RAILWAY.
Pt. i [<<prev | next>>] [SERIES M.LIST]
B.CHAN x READER [MAIN MASTERLIST]
authors note: darker than what i usually write, may become a series (hopefully will if this does well) it was supposed to be a lot more grrrr but im just kinda testing out the waters rn
summary: hot guy at the club is a fucking monster, just your luck
story warnings: psychological/emotional distress, kidnapping, horror/supernatural horror ,blood and drugging (both non graphic)
wc: 1,286
A few weeks ago, you finally decided to break out of the heavy loneliness you’d been carrying like an iron coat. So when your friend invited you out to a club, you said yes.
It was fun, loud music, flashing lights, the kind of night that tastes like temporary freedom. And then you met him.
Chan.
Charming. Funny. Ridiculously handsome. Dimples that made your heart do a strange little jump. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the dark glow of the club, but when he looked at you, something in his eyes flickered, something sharp beneath the softness.
You ignored it when he tugged you into a bathroom stall, when his mouth found yours, when his hands locked onto your hips like he knew exactly how to steady you. Every alarm bell in your mind drowned under the electric rush of how he made you feel.
Until you felt the tiniest prick at your neck.
You jerked away immediately, hand flying to your skin. “What the fuck?!”
Your vision blotched. Your legs folded. Panic roared as you sank down the tiled wall. Chan crouched with you, smiling so sweetly it made your skin crawl.
“Don’t worry, dove,” he murmured. And that was your last clear thought.
You wake somewhere soft. Pillows. Warm blankets. The kind of comfort that feels wrong once you remember.
Chan. The bathroom. The drugging.
You shoot upright, vision spinning, and stumble to your feet. Footsteps approach outside the wooden door. Your heart ricochets around your ribs.
The door opens.
Chan stands there, dressed neatly now—white button-up, black vest, slacks that fit too well. He looks like he walked out of a portrait. “C-Chan?” you whisper.
He smiles like a wolf made of silk and moves toward you. You try to keep distance, but he herds you backward until you hit the wall.
“Why so scared, dove?” he asks softly. “I’ve waited so long for you. I saved you. You’re safe with me.”
“Saved me?” Your voice cracks into anger. “You drugged me. You kidnapped me! I—I—”
Your breathing spirals. Chan frowns and gently gathers your hands, pulling them away from your hair. Too easily. “Kidnapped? No, sweetheart. I took you away from people who never cared about you. I’ve watched them ignore you for months. You kept hoping they’d change. They never did. You deserved better. You deserved me.”
Your stomach twists. “You don’t know me,” you hiss. “We met last night. You’re—you’re insane.”
His hand is suddenly on your cheek. The warmth turns into pressure, hard, unyielding. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, little one” he whispers, voice trembling with something darker. “You’re overwhelmed. I understand. I’ll help you understand yourself.”
You spit at him. He wipes it away with a slow exhale. “That’s okay, darling. Fear makes people act strangely.”
He leaves and locks the door behind him.
You scream, pound, beg until your throat aches. Nothing gives. Eventually, you curl on the bed and sob until exhaustion swallows you.
Time becomes slippery. You learn there are two versions of him.
Chan, soft, gentle, treating you like something delicate. He coaxes you to eat, hums when you cry, presses warm, careful kisses to your temple.
And then there’s Chris.
You first see him on day two. His shirt is stained with something dark. His smile is too bright for what clings to him. When he touches your face, the scent, the lingering evidence, everything makes your blood run cold. His joy at your fear is unmistakable.
You learn very quickly who to avoid.
Eventually, you try something new. A plan.
“Chan…?” you whisper one night while he’s curled around you.
He hums, happy just to have you close.
“Could we…go outside? Just for a walk? With you. I just—feel trapped.”
His arms tighten, but he melts a little. “Of course, baby. Anything you want.”
Hope sparks, fragile but real.
Morning reveals the truth—outside wasn’t outside.
It was a railway. Old. Abandoned. The horizon felt wrong. Too flat, like the sky was painted onto glass. The tracks stretched endlessly, wood splintered and metal warped.
Chan walked beside you like this was normal. Like this was home.
“People fear places like this,” he said conversationally. “They see decay. They don’t see the beauty beneath.”
You didn’t see beauty. You saw emptiness. A world drained dry.
Your knees wobble. Chan rests a hand on your back, guiding. “Beautiful, isn’t it? People say it’s frightening, because they refuse to look deeper. They only see what scares them. Never the wonder beneath it.”
You nod because you can’t trust your voice. His canines look too long when he smiles.
He talks and talks, about perception, about beauty, about seeing what others can’t. You barely listen. You’re too focused on keeping distance without provoking Chris.
But when his lips hover close, when his hand presses you into the bark of a dead tree—
You shove him and run.
His laughter follows like a blade dragged along metal.
You wander for days.
Cold nights. Sleepless fear. Scraps of food you don’t question too closely. You don’t dare stay in one place too long. You just keep moving, hoping for something, someone.
On what might be day six or seven, you find a building. A prison, or the decayed skeleton of one. You cringe at the shriek yell the weathered metal gate makes and step inside.
The halls echo. Air hangs stale and heavy. You reach a cell block where faint shafts of light reveal broken bars, dark stains, shapes you try not to focus on.
Something wheezes from the last cell.
“H-help…”
Your heart stutters. You edge closer—
And freeze.
It’s not human.
A figure slumps in the shadows, its body thin and warped, its shape wrong in ways your mind refuses to categorize. Where its face should be—nothing but absence. Something dark leaks where features should be. It’s flesh, the colour of ash and ooked like it was melting,
“…help…” it rasps again.
Then it laughs as it lunges towards you.
You stumble back.
Right into someone.
Chan stands behind you like a nightmare you accidentally summoned. The inhuman creature retreats instantly, shrinking into darkness as if he was the monster.
“I wondered when you’d find this place,” Chan says, delighted. “You lasted longer than I expected. I almost ended the game early. But you kept going. Smart little thing.” His tone laces affection and cruelty like twin threads.
Your stomach drops. He knew. He planned it.
He steps closer, brushing your cheek with a tenderness that makes you want to scream. “I’ve felt your heartbeat every day and night. Do you know how scared you were without me? Do you understand how much you need me?”
You slap his hand away.
That was a mistake.
Chris surfaces behind his eyes like a ripple in black water. His grip snaps around your throat, not enough to injure, but enough to trap your breath and your scream.
He forces you back against the rusting bars. Another creature shifts in the next cell, this one more human-shaped, eyes full of hunger and sorrow. It goes to reaches through the bars—
“Okay! I’m sorry!” you choke. “Chan—Chris—please, I’ll listen—I’ll behave—I’m sorry!”
He doesn’t loosen his grip.
In a final desperate push: “You were right! I—I need you!”
Something in him softens. He pulls you away just in time to stop the creature from grabbing you.
You cling to his coat because you’re terrified to do anything else.
“Why…why are you doing this?” you gasp.
Chris strokes your back like calming a trembling puppy. “Don’t worry about the casualties,” he murmurs. “Cause it’s safe when it’s just you and me.”
His voice is tender. His meaning is terrifying.
[dividers by @/strangergraphics]
[please lmk if you want more !! maybe some smut in the next pieces WHO KNOWS. anyways also like i said before it was originally gonna be way way darker but i got scared of people’s reactions so ahhhahahha ]
