Yandere BTS Oneshots.

The Silent Slasher's Love || JHS

Y/n stood by the edge of the village square, the wind carrying the faint scent of pine and freshly baked bread from the bakery nearby. But there was something else in the air—fear. The once lively village was now under a cloud of dread, and it all started when the Silent Slasher began his reign of terror.

"Y/n, are you really going out tonight?" her best friend, Jihoon, asked as he adjusted his jacket. His eyes darted around nervously, as if expecting the killer to appear at any moment.

"Yes, I have to," Y/n replied, pulling on her thick wool scarf. "Grandma's medicine won't pick itself up, and she can't go a day without it."

Jihoon sighed, shaking his head. "Why can't you just stay home for one night? It's not safe with that psycho out there."

"The Silent Slasher only strikes at random, right?" Y/n tried to sound casual, but her voice wavered. "It's been a week since his last... attack."

"Yeah, and what if he decides tonight's your turn?" Jihoon's voice dropped, a mixture of concern and frustration. "Just because no one knows his pattern doesn't mean you should test your luck."

Y/n chuckled, though it felt hollow. "Don't worry. I'll be quick. Besides, I'm not afraid of some guy in a bunny mask."

Her confidence was partly a front. The Silent Slasher had become a ghost in their village, slipping through the cracks of their small world without leaving a trace. Every victim was found the same way: no signs of struggle, no fingerprints, just a lifeless body and that damned bloody bunny mask left beside them, like some sort of sick calling card.

Jihoon grabbed her arm gently. "Promise me you'll stay on the main road. No shortcuts. No detours."

Y/n nodded. "Promise."

The sun had already dipped below the horizon by the time Y/n left the pharmacy with her grandma's medicine. The street lamps cast long shadows on the empty streets. Even the usual sounds of village life—children playing, dogs barking, the chatter of neighbors—had vanished. Everyone stayed indoors after dark now, and with good reason.

She clutched the small paper bag tighter, her steps quickening. The Silent Slasher. It was a name whispered in hushed tones, passed from one terrified villager to the next. No one had seen his face, but everyone knew the stories—about the mask, the black outfit, and the clean, efficient way he ended lives.

Halfway home, Y/n's heart started to race. Every noise seemed amplified, every gust of wind felt like it carried a whisper.

Snap.

She froze.

Her eyes darted to the dark alleyway to her left. Nothing but shadows. She tried to shake it off, telling herself it was just the wind, or maybe a stray cat.

Keep walking, she told herself.

But her legs refused to move. She could feel it—the sensation of being watched. A cold chill ran down her spine as she slowly turned her head.

A figure stepped out from the alley, tall and broad, his face obscured by a blood-stained bunny mask. His black outfit clung to his muscular frame, and in his hand was a long, gleaming knife. He didn't speak, didn't make a sound, but the sight of him was enough to freeze her in place.

"Oh my god," Y/n whispered, her throat tightening.

He tilted his head slightly, observing her, as if deciding what to do next.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest, and she felt a scream rising, but no sound escaped her lips. She took a step back, her mind racing with possibilities. Could she run? Could she fight?