#collab with jooniescupcakes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

girlmeetsliv3 · 5 years ago

Text

Q & A

The 2K follower special is here. Thank you to everyone that submitted a question. The transcript is below for those of you who would rather read. Hope you enjoy ♡ ♡ ♡

I do apologize in advance as my mic picked up on every little sound. Such as me rubbing my arm soothingly and my accidentally hitting my ankles against my chair. Also, sorry for the long pauses this was the third take and it was the best one.

youtube

Hi everyone, this is Cloud. I’m doing this Q & A special as a thank you for getting me to two thousand followers which I really appreciate. It’s twenty questions long, I don’t think it’s going to take a long time. I do apologize in advance if I’m a bit awkward, I’m alone in my room talking to a mic. So, I do apologize in advance.

1) Where are you from?

I’m from South Florida, but my family and I are Latinos.

2) What made you decide to write specifically yandere? And would you ever post a nonstandard story on the blog?

So, what got me into yandere or what really opened me up to writing it was the fact that when I was twelve or thirteen I was really into wattpad stories. A couple years ago, when I revisited them I realized that a lot of them painted these abusive relationships in a positive light or just romanticized them a lot. Which is terrible, because when I read that I grew up thinking that’s how relationships were supposed to be. That your partner is supposed to be possessive, kind of controlling, and a bit handsy sometimes. Which is obviously very wrong.

What I like about yandere, what got me into writing it, was the fact that I could portray these relationships that had been romanticized when I was younger - that the media often romanticizes - that it’s not healthy. It’s not good. Specifically, people who are inexperienced the way I was. I think you can hear about all these red flags and different things, but if you’ve never been in a relationship and you don’t really know what a red flag looks like I think it’s important to know those signs. I think that’s why I write my stories.

On whether I would ever post a nonstandard on the blog, I have wanted to write other stories but I don’t think I’ll do it on this blog. Just because this blog is so centered on being a yandere blog and my followers/readers sort of come to my blog expecting something. So, I would probably open a second blog and just write other stories on that.

3) Who is your bias?

I like to think I’m OT7 bias. I love all seven of the members and support them, however, the people who first caught my attention from BTS were Tae and Yoongi.

4) How long have you been writing?

So I’m twenty now, I would say I’ve been writing for over ten years now. I actually got in trouble a lot back when I was in elementary school and middle school because instead of paying attention I would just write little short stories or chaptered stories, that just really made no sense, during class. I would just write it on scraps of paper instead of actually taking notes.

5) What got you into writing?

I think like a lot of people I was really into books. I loved books so much. I want to get back into them, but I think a lot of people can relate when I say I’d rather read a 100k story than open up a book. What got me into writing was definitely reading, I read so much. I carried a book with me everywhere. I read so much that my parents told me I had to stop reading - that’s the level I was at. (insert awkward laugh) What got me into reading though was this little, not really popular, book called Twilight. I was eight when I saw the movie and then I got the book for my birthday. I just fell down a rabbit hole after that of just reading.

6) Your favorite fic so far?

That I’ve written would definitely be Datura. I just love it so much, it holds such a special place in my heart - all those characters.

7) What’s your favorite non-yandere fic?

I have several, I even have a blog called @girlmeetsfics (shameless plug) dedicated to all the stories that I find. Cause I have my likes locked. But, right now my top three are: @rkivenamu, I’m sorry if I mispronounce these usernames, Let’s Be Bad Guys. I’m a slut for OT7 in space, I just am. That story is so phenomenal. So well written. The characters are so interesting. The stakes are so well written. I think it’s difficult to get action done well in books, you can get tension, but when it comes to action scenes its difficult to elaborate on them, but she does it so well and you really feel that the character’s lives are in danger and that anything could happen at any second. I’m actually such a fan of that story and love it so much that I followed her or them and I put on the post notifications to be notified for when she would update again.

In second place, I have @btssavedmylifeblr Void. If you haven’t read that - you’re missing out. It’s amazing. It’s phenomenal. I love the character’s so much. Again, I’m a sucker for space stories, I just love sci-fi.

And then recently @gukslut Rattled is such a beautiful and heartbreaking tale. It’s so human. I’ve never read such human characters before, they are just so real and raw and I just love it. So, I would definitely recommend checking it out.

8) Is there any style of writing that you try to emulate?

Some of my favorite authors are those turn of the century authors: J.M. Barrie, Lewis Carrol, etc. I really love those stories. If you’ve ever read some of those authors - Edgar Allan Poe and some of Lovecraft - they are third-person point of view, but its this weird blend between you being a person in the story and the story being told to you.

9) Name a trope you hate.

I don’t really hate anything. What I don’t like to maybe read or write is a boring protagonist. I don’t like a character that is so blank slate that they just have no personality. Or nothing to do and they’re just there to be pushed around. They’re a really passive protagonist and don’t get me wrong, you can definitely do a passive protagonist right. I just really don’t like protagonists that are a blank slate, that you have to force yourself to give them a personality. That there’s no personality given to them by the author.

I do understand that the stories I write, and the most popular stories are, self-insert or member x reader but I think you can manage to get away with still having some characterization there.

10) What is a dynamic you always include in your stories?

Something I like to highlight a lot is codependency. From my personal experience, a lot of the toxic relationships that I’ve been in - even though they haven’t been romantic, mainly platonic - suffer from codependency or it’s definitely one of the dynamics that play a significant role. So, its something I always like to highlight in these relationships. With co-dependency, it might not always seem bad to be entirely reliant on someone, especially if your self-esteem isn’t that high (self-esteem as defined by Adler & Stewart), but it can really quickly turn toxic in the hands of the wrong person or even in the hands of the right person.

11) If you had to pick to be the OC of one of your stories who would you be?

This is going to sound weird and kinda masochistic, but I would be interested in being the OC of the Violent Delights story. Even though all the character’s in that story are so beyond intense and given how it ends. Well, the series might not end like that I’m still not sure. But given how the one-shot ends, it’s kinda depressing but that is the OC I would be.

12) Any upcoming fics you’re excited to write about?

I’m excited for Violent Delights. I have something in the works, regarding that story, with a really popular writer on Tumblr. Hopefully, it works out. I really hope it does, but I’m really excited for that story and I hope you guys are too.

13) Would you ever write for other groups that aren’t BTS?

I’m not sure. I really want to write girl groups, I think that’s my main thing. I think the yandere dynamic with women changes a lot. There’s this stereotype that most yandere tend to be girls, because misogyny, and whatnot but I really want to write a girl group. I don’t know which girl group…(thinks about it a little) eh, I kinda do. So yeah, definitely girl groups.

14) If you could do a collab, who are the top 5 writers you’d want to collab with?

The first two are the ones that got me into yandere or at least writing yandere, which are @sweetbunnykook and @chinkbihh. Min, @jooniescupcakes, I’d love to collab with Min. Recently I discovered, (by recently I mean two months ago) @taequois she writes some amazing yandere stories and she isn’t afraid to go there and I love that. I really like dark stories.

15) Are there any discontinued stories you can see yourself coming back to?

I would love to go back to Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso. I’d love to go back to them and rewrite them - completely change them. I wouldn’t delete them perse, especially not Paradiso because that is the first story I ever wrote on the blog, but I think I’d reformat them and make them really long one-shots.

16) What’s your favorite animal?

My favorite animal used to a cheetah. I don’t really have a favorite animal anymore. The only animal that I can say that comes into my mind isn’t even real: it’s because I finished watching Avatar so a flying bison would definitely be my favorite animal. Realistically, maybe a cheetah and my second would be a cat (I really want a cat).

17) Would you ever write a hybrid story?

I would never say no, because I don’t know what the future entails, I’m just uncomfortable with hybrid stories. By that I don’t mean that they make me uncomfortable, I mean that I don’t know enough about them to feel comfortable writing them. There was a while between me saying I was going to write an ABO story and then me actually writing Lilies of the Valley because I had to do a lot of research. Search thinks like tropes because I really wanted to avoid a lot of cliches. I actually read and there are a lot of really good hybrid stories. So, I don’t know if I would ever write it. I am open to it, but I have a lot of works in progress right now.

18) Is there anything that’s a hard limit for you?

Yes, I think I could never write sexual assault. I know a lot of my stories feature dubious consent because of the situation the protagonists are in, but I don’t think I could ever write explicitly sexual assault. So that’s definitely a hard limit for me.

19) When is the next part of pon coming out? Before or after you finish lotv?

The reason pon has taken so long is that I have to catch up from where the second part ended to the end of the one-shot. Part three is essentially the one-shot. Obviously things are going to be different, but from where the story ended to the end of the one-shot which is insane. It’s a lot. Pon only has like five parts, I wanna say, so it’s definitely a lot. I have some of the outline worked out, but it’s a lot.

I can’t say right now if it’s before or after Lilies of the valley. I have most of Lilies of the valley written, I don’t think there is going to be more than ten chapters - maybe twelve at most. I want to say a mid to late June deadline is what I have right now. My plan is to put out prince of nothing part three and then the day after put out Violent Delights. So look forward to that, please.

20) Do you see yourself doing this in the long run?

I wanna say yes, I’ve only been here a year and it feels like such a short amount of time looking back because so much has happened. I never thought I would reach 2k followers. I never even really thought I would reach 1k, to be quite honest. So, I see myself doing this for maybe one more year - I don’t know. With the way things are going on in the world, things are difficult but at least now I have time. Time to write, even though god knows sometimes I just can’t.

I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I really enjoy doing this and it makes me really happy. I feel like I have a safe space on this blog to go to when things get tough in life and I’d really like to thank you all for giving me that. For giving me a platform in which I could express myself and share my stories because for the longest time I thought that no one really wanted to hear them. So, again I’d like to thank you all so much for that.

Okay, so that’s the end. I’m sorry that this was a little long, I will have a transcript (this right now). So again I’d like to thank you all again for 2,000 followers. There is a lot more coming, I have a lot of surprises planned for you guys that I am currently working on. I’m recording this on Friday and plan to upload it on Sunday. Again thank you all, this is Cloud signing out. Kisses. Bye.

#2k followers #Q&A #girlmeetsliv3

12 notes · View notes

ddaenqu · 6 years ago

Text

Numinous

“I was told you guys have...an exchange system?”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?”

pairings: yandere ot7 x reader

themes: Magic Shop AU, Non-Idol Verse AU, Mature

summary: You went to the mysterious group of men after hearing of their incredible power to give new memories in exchange for bad ones, hoping to erase the trauma caused by your past boyfriend. Little did you expect them to take your boyfriend’s place.

A collab between @jooniescupcakes and @ddaenqu

This is where you belong

»»————- ♡ ————-««

Trigger Warnings: Violence, degradation, blood, abusive relationships, heavy manipulation, heavy gaslighting, yandere behaviours, obsessive behaviours, brainwashing, hypnosis, mentions of murder, stalking, kidnapping

»»————- ♡ ————-««

The wind brushes through your hair, an odd feeling of dread and uncertainty chipping away at your insides, the goosebumps on your skin rise to the abrupt chills. You look around and then back to your phone, focusing on the blue text that held all the information about this place, your friend managing to somehow pull-off rambling through her texts, she almost seemed adamant that you go to this spot.

How good could it be? You thought, mostly because it seemed hidden away, behind tall buildings and next to little stores and businesses that didn’t look well-kept.

It was silent and empty, occasionally a few people walking here and there, a few kids leaving a store, but other than that, it was just lonely. The streets weren’t overcrowded with cars, luckily for you, as your head and body couldn’t possibly walk through consistent beeping and yelling.

Your friend, Hana, had said that the store is squished between two other stores, and easy to miss if you don’t look closely. Now, you’re not one to doubt friends, but you’re sure confident isn’t wouldn’t be the word to describe this whole thing, especially if it’s a shop that sounds like it’s meant to be hidden. You wonder how she even stumbled upon this place if it’s “easy to miss”.

You’re about to walk further down the sidewalk, looking for this “amazing” store as Hana claims, when you see a certain storefront blending in with the brick wall and white wall from the two stores on each side, offering no space for the tiny little shop to expand.

It had a dark oak-like door, the windows were covered with light blue patterns, two lanterns on top of the windows. Above the door was a symbol, one you had never seen anywhere. On the side, there was a little rectangular box jutting out, with the words “Magic Shop” in bold, they weren’t plated in neon, but except a softer glow, one that was similar to a lightstick or lava lamp.

Your friend had failed to mention it looked like one of those places that were supposed to give card or palm readings, maybe even a therapeutic center. You wouldn’t be surprised if she sent you to one, a low blow on her part, but it wasn’t something she did with ill intent.

She had only mentioned that when she went in, she was pessimistic and very skeptical at first—and you’d be lying if you didn’t feel the exact same way as well—but leaving the place, she felt new and fresh. The exact thing you were looking for. At least, that’s what Hana had told you. She gave you their card, although, there wasn’t really an address printed on there, it was written down on the back with lazy handwriting.

At first, you told her that you didn’t want to deal with this, you had enough to deal with and talking to some magical therapists weren’t going to help you in any way. You were going to throw away the card and call it a night before she practically begged you to go. That if you didn’t go, she would kick you out of her apartment, where you currently lived since you refused to go anywhere near your own.

A sigh left your lips and finally pushed the door open. A small bell rang above your head, a soft and gentle chime. You noticed the outside was nothing like the inside, it was quite open and warm.

Dark bookshelves, little trinkets set up to some of the books tucked in, their spines covered in a light grey of mist-like dust. There were black leather couches settled against the white wall, the polished wooden floor reflected the dim light fixtures and white vintage lamps. It was beautiful, you had to admit that, as if you walked in on another era of interior style, a whole different generation.

“Hello?” An uplifting and giddy voice, lighthearted and filled with hope, breaks your attention away from the small golden trinkets sitting on dusty shelves and tables.

Your head turns, a cashier front, much resemblance to a small booth, and a tall, broad man standing inside it. Light brown-caramel hair that shone in the light, his plush lips pulled into a graceful smile. He was warm, welcoming, and absolutely charming.

You stared for a second, not expecting someone to immediately greet you upon arrival. Hesitantly, gripping the fabric of your clothing, you walk towards the small booth. The overwhelming man standing politely, but also unrestrained, waiting for you.

“Hi,” you say plainly, not sure of what to say.

The man was undoubtedly handsome, a man that you’d see on the front page of some fashion magazine or walking down a runway. Not in some beaten up store on the street where all the bankrupt businesses live.

He only smiles, his stare was unwavering as much as it was unnerving, beating down on your small form compared to his.

“It’s a bit cold—this afternoon,” he says with a hint of tenseness pulling at his words, obviously eyeing your attire. You had thought he was showing prejudice or disgust with his tone.

You let out a nervous chuckle, “yeah, didn’t really expect it to be this cold.”

The awkward silence settles in, you almost feel sick. You were never one to start conversations—or, well, you’ve forgotten how to do it without being uncomfortable. You could never keep them either. Especially with someone as good-looking as he was.

You go to pat down the pockets of your jeans, finding the item—the real reason why you were here, and holding it up to him. A small and thin polaroid picture of you and your ex-boyfriend sitting down on a couch, huge smiles present on both as they laughed their problems away

“I was told that you guys have—,” you begin, solely watching his eyes scan the tiny item with indifference, “—an exchange system?” It sounded dumb coming from your mouth. “A friend had recommended me coming here, so I’m not quite sure how this works. She didn’t tell me much either.”

Then something suddenly clicked in your mind, she didn’t tell you anything about the procedure except that it had an exchange system, she rarely mentioned it and focused her attention on her feelings and results from it.

He nods. “It’s fine, most people don’t know what this place is,” he pauses, “may I ask who he is?” His tone sounds displaced from his happy accord.

Were they allowed to ask personal questions? Were you supposed to answer them?

You sensed that you shouldn’t be discussing your own problems—memories that you don’t want to bring up. Or has it been so long that you don’t know what formality is anymore?

You feel something rise in your throat, letting out a forced cough. “Ex-boyfriend,” you state plainly, fear biting your insides as certain memories flash to that one word.

His almond-brown eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite understand, his eyes alone spoke too little, and his words were nothing but plain sentences. The feeling that swarmed his eyes left before you could put a word to it. Instead, it was just the vivid lights in his eyes.

“I’m guessing not a good one,” he comments, “if you don’t mind me asking, once more, what happened?”

You put on a small smile, one that you’ve tried very hard to entertain with your lips, as memories of one night and before all the others had a flood in with your ex-boyfriend when he was still your boyfriend. It hurt, you wouldn’t deny that—it was painful, but it just felt gross remembering it now. Especially with someone else in the room.

“Just—uh—not a good guy,” you began, “fought a lot, he couldn’t really control his temper, so, one thing led to another.”

You stop and look up at him expectantly, waiting for him to piece together what you had explained, and maybe the pained expression on your face would help him.

He nods stiffly, a grin still present and his lips crinkled at the sides. He didn’t say anything, his mouth didn’t open, he let the warm and speckled silence to dance across the room and sit through the dim lights cast upon you and him.

The room felt alive at that second. Even if the walls were so tight, the doors all closed, and the bookshelves sitting peacefully. The room sparked with something.

You need to get this over with.

The moment you get home and see Hana, you’re going to give her a piece of your mind.

You cough, again, “well, I was told by my friend that you can help me. An item for an item, or an item for just anything?”

He nods warmly, “of course, what are you here for?”

The Polaroid picture in your hand taunts you as you place it down in front of him, on the counter that separated the both of you. Strangely secure in your mind, that there was an obstacle between you two.

“I want a new Polaroid camera, and so I give you that—this Polaroid picture.” Your hands leave the tiny and flimsy piece of plastic for the last time, “I want a new one so I can throw my old one out.”

“Why a new Polaroid camera?” he asks, then adds quickly, “when there’s so much to choose from. Not that your choice wasn’t good.”

“It’s fine,” you assure, your eyes stayed on the picture before flicking up towards his brown orbs, expecting him to have some sort of expression mixed with pity, and yet you see nothing. “I wanted a new one because my old one had broke not too long ago.”

“Is that so?”

No, it was not, but you nod anyway.

He hummed. “Why get a new Polaroid camera if you can just get a whole brand new camera with better features?” he suggested, his hands are nicely folded on the wood countertop. His eyes advert down to the small picture, eyeing it with curiosity, almost as if he was noting each feature down he could name.

His tone, you notice, changed. It was usually light and airy, up for anything, maybe low on some areas, but it sounded limited and condescending as he stressed on the idea of why a new Polaroid camera wasn’t the best choice.

“It costs more, and besides,” you breathe in, “it’s not about the price. It’s like a—uh—”

His body is hunched over the counter, his head pushed forward in an attempt to get closer to you. That odd and misplaced smile always seemed to make your mind twitch, his smile didn’t feel like how a smile is supposed to.

You’d think he’s expecting something to come out of your mouth.

“Like a what?” he pressures on, and your train of thoughts ceases to his voice.

“Fresh start,” you continue, “my old Polaroid is something I want to forget. It sounds cliché, I know, but it is broken—” your hands move to your words, pointing at the rectangular picture, “—he ended up breaking it, on accident.”

As if him throwing the priceless object down onto the wooden floor while a flurry of derogatory names left his mouth—was an “accident”.

He nods once more. Would it kill him to say “okay” or just give an approving hum?

“I just want to be able to use my Polaroid camera without having to bring up bad memories.”

“Yes, but still having a camera identical to that one thing that ties you to the past,” he notes, pushing the picture away from him, “wouldn’t it just be the same effect as the old camera? You’re not having a fresh start, you’re just reliving the past with a new camera.”

He’s right. You know he’s right and it doesn’t hurt your pride, surprisingly, but it makes you think. Your eyebrows drew together into a pensive state and your lips skewed to one side.

“You’re right,” you agree reluctantly. “But a whole new camera is too much. I couldn’t ask that of you—I mean, not to discredit you, but I just can’t see it.”

His body moved back slowly, his shoulders are no longer hunched and his body is lean standing. “There’s always a price for something, I understand that,” he begins and his fingers prodded the small piece of plastic before picking it up and studying it in his hand, discomfort present in his lips, setting the picture farther away from you and closer to him. “But, I shall give you a new camera with no expense, none really.”

This is a joke, you automatically assume. A scam of some sort.

Suspicion and surprise were clear on your face, and for once, his lips that were so prettily turned into a grin faltered and dropped into a straight line before regaining its usual look.

He leans over the table, and in a soft voice, he asks, “do you not believe me?”

You swore you could feel his breath tickle your face, heat bunching up in your palms. His words are heavy against your own, your conscious sounding them out to you as if it was a curse.

You stammered with heat growing on your cheeks, “I didn’t mean it that way, I just—” you cut yourself off, “I didn’t really come here expecting this, I just wanted a new Polaroid camera."

He chuckled, "don't worry, love, really. A fresh start is what you wanted no matter how you put it." He clasped his hands together, going to wipe his palms down on the black fabric of his pants, you’d assume. His bottom torso was covered by the expansive counter.

Your hands were fidgety, pinching the ends of your shirt or toying with the lint in your pockets. You needed to call Hana, away from him, you add as you watch him place your item somewhere under the counter.

It’s not that he was a bad guy, he seemed entertaining and understanding. He spoke according to your emotions, he’s observant but too observant. It just didn’t feel right—something didn’t feel right.

The room felt restless despite all the furniture still being in place as it was when you first entered, the lights never flickered and did well to keep this place well lit, and the books on the dusty shelves and the gold-like trinkets on the tables had not moved.

“I see you’re still uncertain,” the man spoke softly, this time he seemed distracted or uncomfortable about something, evidently making you feel uncomfortable. “Please, sit down and think about it more if you need, it’s a one-time chance after all.”

Your head perked up to the thought of you staying any longer you had planned. Your mouth worked faster than your brain, spitting out an excuse: “Actually, I have to—”

“Stay for tea, at least, or not a tea person?” he inquired with a determined tone. You noticed his fingers were tapping consistently against the wood. “Water? Coffee? You can think it over while taking a drink break, right? I’m sorry for pushing the ‘new camera’ thing.”

His apology was very genuine, the point where guilt had bubbled up and overthrown the unsettling feeling resting at the tips of your shoes, minutes away from wanting to run out of the shop—now, wanting to offer this much as a courtesy.

His body left the small cashier still, and it’s when you noticed how much he towered of you. His height was tall as it was, but his broader body made it seem as though you were trapped. The thick line, the countertop gave helped you feel somewhat secure throughout your conversation. Like a border, he couldn’t just get around, although, that's what you told yourself.

As he was leading you to one of the leather couches in swift and elegant movements, you wondered, as he was taking out a silver tray you could only assume was real gold from how pristine and beautiful it looked, you wondered, as he was pouring tea gradually with clinks with spoons against glass, dropping as much sugar as you please. You wondered, how far did courtesy go?

“Take a sip, I added a bit more sugar since the tea is quite strong,” he said and poured a cup of tea for himself, no sugar added.

Hesitantly, you brought the rim of the teacup to your lips, tasting a sweet and bitter liquid slowly scalding your tongue. With forced repression, you look up at him and gulp. “It’s good,” you lie through your teeth, but he takes the bait anyway.

The man nods and says something ought to do with your decision before leaving the room in a slow manner, occasionally you could feel his gaze on the side of your face, but you being the only one in the room told otherwise.

With a sigh, your body finally is able to rest, your back finding comfort in the plush couch, making you slink down further. You didn’t even notice you were this tired. Closing your eyes, wouldn’t be so bad, just to rest them before he comes back.

You feel a vibration in your back pocket, a minimal vibration you note with a drowsy conscious. Hana probably, she always checks in with you whenever her paranoia gets the best of her. You know you should be checking the text or calling her just to ensure you were alive and well, however, your body couldn’t find the strength to move and pull out the phone.

It felt nice; cozy and warm. Blanketed with sleep.

Resting your eyes is what you reminded yourself, and you’ll open your eyes to find that man telling you the shop was closed, for you to come back tomorrow.

But it was just black. Pitch black.

»»————- ♡ ————-««

The next time you woke up—or at least you think you did, you heard hushed voices all around you, surrounding your body as you tried to move, but your body felt heavy and stiff. Hands caressed every part of your skin, some drawn out long on your face and lips, others stayed to hold the soft supple skin of your stomach, but you didn’t know whose hands they were.

Time after that had been hobbled, seconds turned into hours and hours turned into minutes. You remember asking someone with a giddy smile, loud whenever he talked that your ears popped and rung, you had asked them whether it was day and night. He replied with a rhetorical question, at least you think it was rhetorical, and said it’s whatever you believe it is. You don’t remember asking him anything again.

You remember the cool touch of someone’s palm pressed against your forehead, frizzy pink hair that resembled bubblegum, or blurs of bright blue.

You remember colors, smells, feelings, and the soft whispers that caressed your ear every now and then. Colors, but you can’t remember faces. You’ve tried hard, you think, you hope that you did. Trying to jog your memory; remembering who your friend was down to your parents, and down to a guy you had a relationship with in the past. You forgot his name and face, and soon, you forgot who he was at all. He was blank. An error in your memory, someone of a block to your memories.

Your place of living was gone, nonexistent for days, and your family, with names you can dot if you tried, but faces scratched out with pennies. You don’t remember if you had even worked, or if you went to school. And every night, it would just be blank—these people you don’t know at all, playing like memories.

“It was a bad dream,” they told you—someone told you. Someone with light grey hair that you remember seeing splotches of often, their warmth made you feel gooey and most of all, safe.

When your vision started clearing and the fog in your mind dissipated into small headaches, you finally processed these senses and people to names.

And when you woke up to seven people watching you or cooking your food, or folding your clothes, or caring for your health. You felt safe. As if they had been here the whole time. They were your everything—and you were theirs.

»»————- ♡ ————-««

You quickly fell in place with the relationship - not that you were out of the relationship in the first place, it just felt peculiar. Maybe it was because of the headache that often came knocking, or those awfully strange dreams, showing you a life you had never lived. When you ended up pouring out your concerns about the dreams that the boys woke you up from, there was an answer ready.

“Trauma,” Namjoon smiled, tendrils of his grey hair gently falling on his forehead, “do you remember that accident, baby? I don’t think you would, but it was really harsh on you. The doctor warned us that you might have these strange dreams, but they’re all symbolic. Maybe you can write down one of your dreams and I’ll ask the doctor to explain it to us.”

You never found a reason to question his answer more. Why should you? The answers satisfied you. They made sense, and there always was proof.

You felt so happy, waking up next to 7 other bodies tangled together. You noticed a pattern, Jimin would always be next to you, arms thrown over your figure, Namjoon and Jin at the edges, as if making a barrier so the others won’t fall off. Yoongi claimed his position next to Jimin, often throwing his legs over said male, Hoseok squeezed next to Yoongi and Jin, never minding the lack of space. Taehyung and Jungkook usually were on the other side of you, but there were those moments when you woke up to find one of them lying on top of you, dreamy smiles on their faces.

Jin would always make breakfast, brown hair still messy and uncombed, Yoongi accompanying him if he woke early enough, yawning and scrunching his dark eyes. In fact, Jin would make every meal, unless you were craving a snack, you would run to Jungkook, who hid an unhealthy pile of your favourite snacks. Tired faces showed up to breakfast, the youngest always clinging on to you before Jimin could. Even the seats at the table were scheduled, changing every mealtime. While you wolfed down your delicious breakfast, Jin would pile more food onto your plate, using his seat next to you as an advantage. On the other side, Taehyung feeding you, smiling playfully at Jimin’s pouting face from across you. Namjoon at the head of the table, Yoongi across him, rolling his eyes at the youngest trio’s attempts to get your attention. Something that never changed, was that you and Hoseok cleaned up. You enjoyed the time you spent with him, laughter erupting from all his stories.

After that, they slowly file out for their shifts at the shop. Namjoon first, always. He would smile at you, a peck and he was gone, past the wooden door. In his absence, Jin would monitor the rest of you. Yoongi and Hoseok stole you away in the mornings since their shift was after Namjoon’s. The three of you would lie in the bedroom, giggling about things that didn’t even make sense, or they would show you some things they had composed, sharing a deep love for music. You fell in love with Hoseok’s bubbly tunes, his blue-black hair bouncing with every word, ending in peals of laughter. Yoongi’s darker, sharper words always captured you without fail, wrapping itself around your heart and tightening.

When they were gone, you were bombarded by Jungkook and Jin, slipping in and dragging you out to either play one of Jungkook’s loud video games or sample Jin’s heavenly dishes. Although you were never good at the games, you played them without fail with Jungkook and Jin, Taehyung joining you at times. While Jungkook taught you how to shoot at the virtual targets, Jin whipped up a meal that absolutely blew your mind.

Then it was Taehyung and Jimin. They would always have new clothes or accessories ready for you, surprising you. The price tags read at least 4 figures, but they would never tell you where the money was from and you knew the shop couldn’t possibly generate them so much because they barely ever accepted cash. Dressing you up and approving of the clothes was how they spent their time with you, but sometimes you would just laze around, playing. Jimin would pick you up and start doing a dramatic waltz while Taehyung would watch, swooping in and grabbing you to dance with him. Before they left, you were attacked with kisses and words of affection, mostly from the frizzy pink haired male, wearing his round glasses as he mumbled sweet nothings in your ear.

They would return just in time for the final meal of the day that included everyone, dinner. The meal would be spent laughing and talking about amusing customers, or annoying ones. During this time, Taehyung and Jimin would let the others know about the clothes you wore, and how you looked in them. Talking about you, if your medication was finishing, or if your dreams returned. You would hurry to clean up, excited for the rest of the evening. Everyone would pile up at the hall and jump onto the large couch. You would find your place right in the middle, nestled comfortably between all of them.

Someone would switch on a playlist and music will flood the room. Soft dreamy music, the kind that makes you want to lie back and sleep in the warmth surrounding you, sometimes, catchy beats singing about love, cherry pie and chocolate eclairs that makes you want to sing along and dance. While you lay in the beaten up couch that they refused the replace, you think about how lucky you are to have them.

After an hour or so, everyone would stand up, ready to go to bed. Jimin, who would loyally hold on to you and growl at anyone who tried to take him away, finally complied and would stand up, sighing, heading back to make sure his younger friend didn’t steal his spot in the bed. The minute your head touched the pillow, you would fall asleep.

Or on some nights, you would lay awake, after a crappy day or bad dream, and crawl out of the mess to go to the balcony. Namjoon stood there, waiting for you, his hair gleaming in the moonlight. When you reached him, he would instinctively pull you in, murmuring a greeting.

“The dreams again?” He asks, voice hushed.

“Yeah..will they ever go away?” You ask, scared of the answer

“Maybe, over time, they might fade. Until then you just gotta hang on there,” he taps your head, “we’ll do whatever we can.”

“You’re already done so much.”

All you get in reply is a dimpled smile.

»»————- ♡ ————-««

During weekends, the shop is closed. Since there’s nothing to do, you go out with your lovers.

“Are you ready?” A voice floats up to where you are, dressing.

“Almost!” You call back, pulling your (H/C) hair into a ponytail.

You hop down the stairs, excited at the idea of going out. After staying in for 6 days in a row, anyone would be excited at a chance to get out. All of the boys were dressed in comfy clothes, bickering amongst themselves about something. At your arrival, they look up, smiling. Compliments swirl around you, filling your ears, bringing a pleased look on your face.

8 of you didn’t fit inside Jin’s car, so you had to sit on someone’s lap. This was a headache to deal with, as everyone will launch into a huge argument. Namjoon and Jin had given up trying to solve this fight a long time ago, so the others took it into their own hands. All the boys were a bit off today, and the fight over you went out of hand.

“All you do is hog her!! Nobody gets to even sit with her because you and Jungkook take her away!” Taehyung was furious, red blotches appearing on his tan skin.

“I do not! Last time, she sat on your lap! Stop making everything about you!” Jimin yelled back. Dread filled you as you realized Jimin was about to break off into another tantrum, and nobody wanted to deal with one of those.

“Can you fucking stop yelling for once? What the fuck are you, 10? Just shut up and sit down, Y/N’s with me today.” It was a rare moment to see Yoongi snap, but his words instantly shut everyone up.

You crawl in with Yoongi, quiet as a mouse. You could see Namjoon pulling Taehyung and Jimin aside, reprimanding them with booming words that even had you wincing. Hoseok, seated at the back with the doe-eyed male, frowned at the sight. Jungkook was also quiet, looking scared. Some part of you was anxious; what if Namjoon cancelled the trip?

The car ride was extremely tense and awkward. Taehyung had a stone face on, glaring at everything, and Jimin’s eyes were filled with tears, sniffling occasionally. When you finally reach the park, you jumped out quickly, grabbing on to Yoongi. Something you learnt quickly was that when you were out, you should be holding at least one of the boys. They hovered by you, constantly. You weren’t sure what to make of it. Overprotectiveness? Possessiveness? You let your mind wander, thinking about the strangely constricting lifestyle you lived when suddenly, a force sent you sprawling on the ground. 7 pairs of feet rushed towards you and asked you questions. Managing weak replies, you glance at your attacker.

A middle-aged man stood, awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot. He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a hard fist slamming into his nose. You heard a sickening crack, and a small blood fountain spurted the red liquid everywhere. Hoseok was fuming, his hand bloody and drops of blood decorating his flawless skin. Hoseok broke the man’s nose.

“You fucking bastard, how dare you?!” He seethes

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” the male gasps between cries of pain.

“Beg,” Jin states, at the confused reaction he continued, “get on your knees and beg for her forgiveness.”

After the unknown man catches sight of the serious and angry expressions of all 7, he realized that he was trapped by some sick monsters. Fearful for his life, he threw away his pride and complied to the order.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. And I- please forgive me,” he was on his knees, forcing himself to say the words.

‘You don’t - just go to a clinic or something,” you sigh, shooing the stranger away, before turning back to your boyfriends, “What were you thinking?!”

They seem shocked at your response, words barging towards you, “But he hurt you!”, “Are you supporting him?” “Don’t you love us?” “I should’ve killed him when I got the chance.”

Gaping in shock at the crude and ridiculous words, you challenge them, “What are you saying? You would kill him?!”

“More than that. So much more,” Jungkook’s face was void of any emotion as he stared at you, eyes blank.

“I - I can’t believe you! Why are you attacking someone you don’t even know? Humiliating him like that? Can you imagine what people will think?” You yell, disappointment and shame making its stand in you.

“He hurt you, Y/N. That was nothing, Jin just asked him to apologize. Why would it matter what people think?” Namjoon frowns at you, “when did it ever matter? They weren’t here when you were suffering, we were.”

“Y/N, we know you don’t remember, but we do. Every minute after we heard you got hurt, we were so worried for you. We camped in that hospital for days, Yoongi didn’t want to fall asleep just in case something happened, Jimin suffered panic attacks almost every day, Jungkook and Taehyung blamed themselves, we all did. I felt like a part of me was dying,” Hoseok steps up, his dark eyes showing all the raging emotions in him, anger, betrayal, fear, “we were so scared.”

“Even Namjoon locked himself away, not eating, not working,” Jimin’s soft voice floods your mind, “I couldn’t breathe, it hurt so much.”

You are faced with glassy eyes, tears collecting in pools, threatening to fall in burning tracks. Why didn’t you think of that? Of course, they were thinking about you, and that life-threatening accident. It’s always them who suffer for an incident that happened to you. They put you in front of their own wants, ever so selfless for you. But you, you were so selfish, mistook their care as possessive actions that crossed boundaries.

“Since then, we can’t stand seeing you hurt. We’re reminded of that accident, and it’s always haunting us. You don’t deserve to go through that ever again. We’re doing this for you, it’s only for the best. Do you still not trust us?” Haunting images fill your head, pictures of you, or one of the boys, hurt and bloody, lying on the ground, lifeless. How would you have felt?

You just sniffled, tears resting on your waterline, wobbling. Shame and rage fill you as you realize your selfishness. After all they’ve done, you brush off their efforts and-. Namjoon pulls you out of your thoughts, his warm hand resting on your head. He rubs his other hand on your back, softly murmuring comforting words and shushing your destructive thoughts.

Then there’s only 7 of you, only you and them, surrounded by nothing but raw emotion. You stay like that until it’s time to go. Suffice to say, you didn’t feel like going anywhere without them anymore. Smug smiles are shared behind your back, but you never notice.

»»————- ♡ ————-««

Everything was basically perfect. You moved on from the incident at the park but the emotional baggage that came along with it never left you. The weight of it pulled down on your delicate frame, and it showed itself whenever you were upset at any of the boys. The emotions seeped in and messed with your thinking, whispering its shattering words in your ear.

Sometimes, you had nightmares of the situation you dreaded so much, lifeless bodies on the floor, motionless and still, only the possibilities cornering you in. As you woke, panting this morning, you had one of these dreams, tears frozen on your cheeks. Crawling out of bed, you are surprised. Where were all the boys? Confused you walk out. Silence. The smell of Jin’s cooking wasn’t there, nor the playful banter of the younger boys. Namjoon’s authoritative commands didn’t drill into you, Yoongi’s groaning didn’t bring a smile to your face, and Hoseok’s laughter had disappeared, leaving a cold, quiet room.

In the living room, you are met with a note. Scrawled, you note, in Jin’s messy handwriting: Sorry, darling. Had some work to finish so we’ll be back later with food. Love you, stay safe. It wasn’t signed, because the message was from all of them, though Jin was the medium through which it was written. However, you did notice tiny, colourful hearts scribbled in the corners of the paper. Jimin. The name strikes in your head as you observe the messy, metallic lines.

Just as the clock strikes 10, the door swings open, a gust of cold air sneaking into your home, along with 7 tall bodies, panting and huffing. The cold air is foreign to you in your warm room, sending a shiver running through you. Catching sight of your lonely figure, you are attacked by your lovers, asking questions and planting kisses. Before you fall prey to their quick, soothing kisses, you see Jungkook’s shirt. The plain white shirt was wrinkle free and pristine, except for a dot of crimson red, growing larger. His face also has the liquid smeared on it, down his jaw and on his brow. You immediately lunge for him, pulling him into you and asking him about the substance.

“It’s not mine” were the only words he could offer as an answer. None of the boys answered, choosing to avoid your questions and distract you with the tempting aroma of fried bread and more.

Later that night, you wonder about his words, the memory of his bloody shirt sending huge, shocking waves of deja vu through you. Where had you seen it? Your answer comes in a dream, distant but lurking in your mind constantly.

»»————- ♡ ————-««

You stand up at the sound of a harsh knock at the door. It looks like you were in a small, cramped room, furniture piled up everywhere, papers and cutlery lying on the ground. A voice comes through, instilling fear to your being,

“Y/N! You can’t hide anymore, you little bitch! You think I wouldn’t know?”

What did you do? Who was that?

A flash blinds you, but only for a few moments. A heartbeat or two passes and then-

You wake to another strange sight. A bathroom? White walls, stained with disgusting colours and revolting odours. You find yourself seated on cold square tiles. Standing up, you hold on to the wall for support, head pounding and muscles sore. You manage to pull yourself to the sink, ice cold to the touch, and turn on the small faucet. You look up and are faced with a pained image of yourself. Bruises, cuts and marks litter your dull skin, your lips are pale and dry, eyes red and puffy, the burning tracks painted on by salty tears. You look like you lost way too much weight to be considered healthy, and your limp figure tells you the same. How did your dream self end up like this? Then you notice it, the very familiar smear of blood, a small streak on your right cheek, and a bigger on one your brow. Red circles grow on your dirty white shirt. The flash is back, and blinds you again, sending an intense, painful shock to your head. This triggers your wake.

»»————- ♡ ————-««

A thin layer of sweat covers you, the thick covers suddenly seeming suffocating. You toss the limbs on top of you and rush to the bathroom. In the mirror, you carefully examine your face. There were no marks, but in that dream, it felt so real, so alive. Was it even a dream? You’ve had dreams of you in various situations, but never something so shockingly real. Could it be that this wasn’t a dream, but a vision? A look into what was to come?

No, you dismiss the thought, you looked younger in that dream. Maybe half a decade younger than you are now. Was it… a memory? The boys had expressed that there was nothing that happened before the accident. It was always like it had been, just with more careful steps. Then, how would they explain this? You knew all you had to do was ask Namjoon, and the answer would come, the answer you wanted to hear.

But was it the truth? Something inside repelled at the thought, forcing you to keep quiet, saying you can’t trust them. Something said it was for the best, and you believed that something. What was really going on? Why were you so hurt in that dream? You wanted answers but couldn’t find them. That night, as you crawled back into bed, you swore to yourself that you would find the answers that had been locked away for so long.

»»————- ♡ ————-««

The next day there was another ‘job’, all seven gone. You decided that it was the perfect opportunity to sleuth around. You didn’t want to be caught, what if you were just overreacting and suspecting them of something terrible? But what if you were right? There was only one way to find out, and you took the risk.

The door swung open followed by a barely audible creak. Your feet landed in the black carpeted floor of Namjoon’s office, hands stuck onto the wall. You took another couple of delicate steps towards the large mahogany table, pristine and organized as ever. Making sure you didn’t leave any obvious tracks behind, you set to work, flipping through the tall piles of papers and files. They were covered in figures and words you didn’t understand. Sighing in defeat, you were about to leave when you see something from the corner of your eye. A cramped, old, folder, labelled Y/N.

You lunge for it, forgetting the risky situation you are in, and hurriedly flip through it, devouring every word scribbled. There were pictures of you, younger, sadder, sickly, it was like they documented so much of your life. Letters, essays, diary entries and jokes, all of which you had told your friends and had written, you presumed. Then, nearing the back, you see one written Magic Shop. There was a picture of you looking in at the shop, then a couple of notes. Abusive ex, new camera, new memories, want to forget, new life, happier relationships. Then there was another note, mixed chemicals into a tea to keep drowsy before a session. Below that, in Yoongi’s almost indecipherable writing, 3 PM, first hypnosis session; replace and wipe out characters from memories.. Repeat every 2nd day of the month.

Yesterday was the 2nd of this month! You notice a smaller, neater note. Story; dating for 2 years, accident, memory loss. Constant repetition will lead to her believing (brainwash with story).

When you pick out the book to inspect it further, a smaller diary falls out, labelled Dreams. You open it and scan the writing to realize it was a record of your dreams, linking it to events. Broken bottles on floor, figure passed out on couch = ex boyfriend would often go out and drink (alcoholic), Y/N would find him passed out on couch.

Ex-boyfriend? You’ve only ever dated them! Your head spins at the new information, and the flashes return, blinding you. You stumble back into the table, heart pounding and astonishment bubbling inside you. Slowly you piece together what you have found, and try to understand the bewildering revelation. You had a boyfriend, and he was abusive? After that, for some reason, you ended up at the Magic Shop, and then you were hypnotised to forget him. They came up with an entire story and forged documents to make you believe in it too. And like a fool, you fell for the trap.

However, you couldn’t bathe in guilt and embarrassment for long. Behind you, a soft click resonated through the whole room. You spin around, to face your nightmare. 7 of them were there, Jin leaning against the door to block any form of escape in the cool room. They didn’t look like they were ready to attack you, or harm you. They stood, calm and collected while staring down at you with a disappointed look. Casually dressed and in casual stances, looking perfectly normal, except for their eyes. The dull, dark orbs seemed so void of life, a lack of emotion in the bottomless abysses. You could feel their gazes burning into you, calling you to drown in the endless pits.

Namjoon stepped forward, shaking his head slowly, “And what do you think you’re doing?”

His voice sent shivers down your spine, but you refused to break.

“Finding out the truth. The truth you hid from me. What is all of this? Hypnosis? New memories?” You shoot back, blinded by your anger.

“No, it’s the past. The past you wanted to forget,” his answer surprised you, you asked for this?

Your eyebrows furrowed, but before you could ask anything, Namjoon cut in, “he hurt you. Broke you into pieces and shattered you over and over,” sharp intake of breath, “you were lost and wallowing in your depressive life. By chance, you heard about us. You heard that we could exchange things, feelings, emotions, memories, in a sense. In your terrible, desperate state, you came searching for us as a last resort. Well, Jin explained it to you, and you told him what you wanted. Anything to get you out of that hell, you told him, and you were willing. Later, we warned you of the consequences, you won’t remember anything, you’ll lose contact with your old life, become a whole new person, a blank slate. You didn’t care about what you left behind and your decision was absolute. You made up your mind, we couldn’t change it.”

“But - there’s no way - I wouldn’t want that, stop lying to me!” You exclaim, not wanting to believe his convincing words.

“Why would I lie? What would I, what would we, ever have to gain from you? In any situation, you were a bother, a client, but over time, we grew fond over you. If you were us, would you have anything to gain from a broken, abused girl? No, you wanted this. You wanted to throw away your old life, to run away, like a coward. We couldn’t object, and now, look at where we are. You came to us, not us to you. Why are you trying to fight? You don’t have anywhere to go, nobody to run to, except us. We’re all you have. We were here during your worst and helped you heal, but now you accuse us of brainwashing you? Manipulating you? You could’ve left at any time, but you decided to stay and carry it through.” His words ring in your head, you caused this, you, it was all you.

“The tea, it was drugged?” You ask, unsure of your own recollections and thoughts.

“Not drugged, it was calming. Chamomile tea, ever heard of that? It was to help you relax,” Jin shrugged away your words.

Yes, the more you thought of it, it made sense. He wasn’t putting in sugar, it was tea leaves. The scene fixes itself in your head, a fresh picture. Your memory was already in bits but that dream showed the state you were in before, and that was convincing enough to tell that you were desperate to run away.

“You’re the one who called us, you’re the one who asked us to save you. I thought you were smarter than that. Instead of going through this… foolish confrontation, you could’ve just asked us. Don’t you see it yet? This is where you belong.” His large, warm hand was outstretched towards you, and you took it, the warmth instantly comforting your own cold hands.

Cold, after committing a crime, you think, the hands of an ungrateful sinner. The words echo in your mind, making their mark on you, forever binding you to the devils you sold your soul to.

After all, it was always you, right? You wanted to see them, you agreed to the deal, you allowed them to hypnotize you, they accepted you. Selfish, stupid, self-centred, imbecile, you scold yourself, idiot, how could you? It’s what you wanted. Looking around the smiling faces, so forgiving, so loving, you agree silently. This is home, this is where you belong.

549 notes · View notes

likeamourningglory · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter Seven

Pairings: BTS×Reader, Secret Yandere!×Reader

Warnings: Contains mentions of blood, death, gore, stalking, obsessive behaviour, yandere character and mature content. Please read at your own risk.

Words: 1.5k

---------------------------------------------------------

“Ah, back again so soon? I wish we didn’t have to keep meeting like this,” Officer Jeon sighed, standing, slim fingers fiddling with the wrist cuffs of his white button-up— crisp and impeccable, not a single wrinkle in sight, you thought. It was almost scary how put-together he looked; clean-cut to the point of intimidating.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

He didn’t sit down, hands firmly placed on either side of the table. A hulking figure looming over you, and despite the barrier, you felt small— so small under his heavy scrutiny, those judging eyes glinting with the cruel edge of justice.

You prided yourself in your strength, in matters of the mind and the heart; there were only a handful of moments in your life when you felt helpless— but this… this meticulously, painstakingly picked apart your carefully crafted illusion of control.

Your rabbit heart raced within your chest, blood rushing, roaring loud in your ears. It beat hummingbird fast, a hard thump thump thump that carved its presence into your very being, knife sharp. The hot blood in your veins were frozen with winter, the creeping frost numbing every corner in the Arctic tundra of this crushing fear.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t even breathe. Not in this agonizing cold— lips blue, bones snapping like flimsy twigs. Powerless, ripped of control.

Swallowing, mouth dry, you took in a shuddering breath, shoulders trembling with the motion. You played with a loose thread at the hem of your skirt, pulling and pulling; it unraveled at the seams, falling apart at the mercy of your fingertips— a idleness borne from a restless anxiety.

“I don’t— I’m not really sure,” you muttered, syllables escaping in a shaky breath, a soft and near inaudible hush.

Officer Jeon slammed his hand down, a loud smack of an open palm against the wooden surface. The desk trembled, protesting under the abuse. You flinched back.

“You see this?” He tapped his finger solidly on an unassuming paper file, the gruesome contents splayed out like the massacred body, limbs askew, blood pooling in an ocean of red. Your gaze flickered down involuntarily, catching sight of the continuous, awful nightmare plaguing your every waking moment.

Bile rose in your throat, acid burning you from the inside out, but you only swallowed down the poison, the sour bitterness. Little tremors wracked your body, running in a cascade of spider legs down your spine. It’s like you were constantly on the vibration setting of a cellphone.

You were a fucking cellphone, you thought, hysteria bubbling inside your stomach in an overflowing cauldron— a churning, nauseating mess of bright, psychedelic colors, questionable to the eye and even more so to the mind. A mere device to be used and tossed away once defective.

“Someone was murdered at this time and place—,” Officer Jeon said, sliding a sheet of paper in front of you. Your eyes stared blankly at the swimming words, not quite processing them.

“We have CCTV cameras on this street,” he continued, flipping through the folder casually, pulling out a few printed photos. Grainy pictures of the cafe, two figures huddled close, their faces not quite discernible due to the distance and lighting.

Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach— dread piling in thick, black ooze, clumping in ugly masses and clogging your arteries with disgusting dregs.

“Is this you,” he asked, already aware of the answer, cocking an expectant eyebrow. You gave a small, meek nod. “Can I get a verbal confirmation? Murder is a serious business, after all. Wouldn’t want any mix-up.”

Officer Jeon gave a grim smile that you couldn’t return, only mustering up a halfhearted smile, weak and quivering. Your breath left you in a whoosh, gaze staring down at your fisted hands.

“Yes, that’s me.”

He only hummed, unsurprised, tapping the top of his pen against the wooden surface of the table, a steady tapping that rang like a gavel in the silence— the hammering of nails sealing your coffin shut.

“And what were you doing so late at night?”

“I was meeting up with a friend.”

“At a cafe when it was well past closing time?” His voice was dubious, not only ready to poke holes through your reasonings, but to completely tear them to shreds.

“He works at the cafe, and we were planning to just hang out for a bit,” you tried to explain.

Officer Jeon released an explosive sigh, leaning back in his seat. Carding his fingers through dark curls, he stared at you, a hardness in his gaze. “Listen, three people entered this alley, but only two came out. It’s my job to catch the culprit, to catch whoever did this,” he said, gesturing at the papers. “And I’ll be honest with you— as someone who is connected to not just one murder, but two? You’re not looking so great.”

“Please, Officer— I didn’t do any of this! You have to believe me, I would never kill someone. I was only meeting up with a friend,” you insisted, tears stinging your eyes at the unfairness of it all.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t meet up with your friends anymore,” he offered with a sardonic smile, a cruel expression on his otherwise handsome face. You forced back the tears, unwilling to cry— not here, not until you were alone.

“You know what they say? What the other officers tell me?” He didn’t wait, leaning forward with a gleam in his eyes. “That you’re the one who killed them.”

Your breath hitched, and you immediately denied it.

“That a murderer hides behind that sweet face,” Officer Jeon continued, words a delighted croon in the face of your turmoil.

You shook your head furiously, nails digging into your skin through the material of your skirt.

“Maybe you lured that poor man into the alley.”

“No, I didn’t, I swear—.”

“What were you hoping to gain, hmm? Money? Or do you just get a sick thrill over killing someone? Of having them on your knees, begging for their lives?”

“Please—.”

“Did you like hearing him scream, Y/N? Did you like the feeling of his blood on your hands as the life slowly drained from his—.”

“I didn’t do it!” You screamed, chest heaving, hands over your ears as if they could block away those accusing words.

“He grabbed me, pulled me into the alley— I don’t know what he wanted, and I don’t want to know what he would have done. But I never even thought about killing him.” And despite your breathy voice, syllables strained under distress, there was steel in your words. “I was scared, so scared. But Yoongi saved me, and—.”

“Yoongi? Min Yoongi?”

You shut your mouth with an audible click, but nodded slowly, hesitantly. Guilt hung over you in a thundering storm cloud, and you crossed your arms over your chest, protecting yourself— from the outside world, from everything.

Officer Jeon tilted his head, an unreadable expression on his face, eyes dark and dangerous. You wanted nothing more than to leave, cold and clammy in your seat. And like some divine deity was finally listening, he dismissed you.

“I think we’re done here for the day,” he said absently, a faraway tone to his voice.

You stood on shaky legs, nearly crying in relief. Muttering a farewell, you strode to the door, ready to leave and erase the proceedings from your memory when—

“Oh, and Y/N? We’ll keep in touch.”

You shuddered at those words, a warning, a threat— you bit down hard on your bottom lip at the implications. Yanking the door open, you left without a backwards glance. Head held high, you strutted out of the police station; a confidence painted on your features that didn’t mirror the broken person inside the interrogation room.

You were a strong person, you reminded yourself, hiding the quiver in your lips. You made it just around the corner before you collapsed on the ground, knees hitting the cement with a painful thud. You sat with your back against the brick of a wall, lungs struggling to take in each painful breath, panic clawing at your chest. Closing your eyes, you tried to force your breathing to slow, counting. Inhale, exhale.

Inhale, exhale.

It could have been hours, it could have been a few minutes; you didn’t know how long you were sitting on the sidewalk. But it was pathetic, /you/ were pathetic. You chuckled bitterly, shaking your head. Everything was a fucking shitstorm. And just when you thought you could catch a break— that something good happened for once, meeting Yoongi, spending the day with Taehyung… inevitably, it spiraled down to this.

Everything always went wrong.

And now, you shifted the blame to poor, unsuspecting Yoongi— what kind of monster, were you. How could you do that to him?

You were going to succumb to madness, this chaos mere seconds away from driving you insane. And you didn’t know if you were strong enough to stop it.

———————————————————

Taglist: @vannilacake @blackpanther4550 @xsunnyhoseokx @amiraclerenee @nooooooooona

This is a collab with @girlmeetsliv3 @sevenincubistolemyheart @jooniescupcakes @junglekookbook @smileyoongle @seven-souls

I’ll be adding the previous chapters to my (soon to be made) masterlist soon.

#bts #bts angst #yandere bts imagine #yandere bts #yanderexreader #bts imagines #btsxreader #yandere au

77 notes · View notes