K-pop sickfics/hurtfics

Jisoo blackping - kidnap

Big thanks to my sister who wrote this chapter. I couldn't figure how to make it, so she did it for me.
This chapter kind of has a creepy vibe.

In this chapter none of the blackpink members live together.

@Lavender_Mxtcha here's your request hope you like it.
1300 words.

Jisoo first noticed the letters in early October.

At first, they were harmless—strange, sure, but not overtly threatening. Folded neatly in pristine white envelopes, the letters were always left just outside her apartment door in Hannam-dong. No postage, no return address. Handwritten. No one ever saw who dropped them off.

' You shine so brightly. Like something that doesn't belong in this world.'

That was the first line of the first one. She remembered it vividly. She tossed it after reading it, brushing off the slight chill it gave her. Fans could be poetic, after all. Obsessive, yes, but usually harmless.

The second letter arrived three days later.

' I know your schedule. You're always home by 10:17pm. You microwave soup. You hum while brushing your teeth. You don't lock your balcony door.'

She froze.

Her blood ran cold as she turned toward her living room. The curtains were drawn, and the dark glass of the balcony window reflected only her silhouette. She remembered waking up two nights ago thinking she'd heard something shift outside. She'd checked, found nothing, and gone back to sleep.

From that night on, she kept the lights on.

She told the others—Jennie, Lisa, and Rosé—but tried to downplay it. "Some creep is leaving weird notes," she'd said with a soft laugh that didn't reach her eyes. "It's probably just some sasaeng." Jennie offered to stay with her. Jisoo refused. She didn't want to be seen as scared.

But she was. Deeply.

The next letter wasn't a letter. It was a Polaroid.

Jisoo, sleeping. Her face peaceful, turned to the side, hair splayed across the pillow like ink. The photo was taken from above.

Her bedroom window was on the second floor.

That night, she didn't sleep. She stayed curled in the corner of her couch, holding a kitchen knife and watching the door.

The police were called. They said they'd investigate. "Probably a deranged fan," they said, filing the report without much concern. "We'll check the cameras in the area." Jisoo nodded. She knew they wouldn't find anything. She'd already looked—her home cameras were all disabled. Someone had pulled their plugs from the wall.

And then, for a week, nothing.

No letters. No photos. No signs. A heavy silence. She dared to hope it was over.
Until the scratching began.

It came at 3:12am—always 3:12. A slow, methodical dragging sound at the front door. Sometimes a soft knock would follow. Sometimes a voice—barely a whisper—repeating her name.

"Jisoo... Jisoo..."

She stayed frozen in bed, phone in hand, heart pounding so loud she could barely hear.

The scratching continued for seven nights.

Then it stopped.

The eighth night, she vanished.

It happened fast.

Rain pounded Seoul like a war drum. The city lights melted into neon rivers on the pavement. Jisoo was home, alone, editing videos on her laptop. She didn't see the figure watching her through the sliding glass balcony door.