The Yellow Wallpaper - Chapter 1
Entity!Ateez x Wanderer!Reader
Synopsis : You seem to find yourself lost in the backrooms, only to meet 8 entities that can’t get enough of you
Content & Trigger Warnings : AFAB!Reader but gender neutral pronouns are used throughout this story, Stalker themes, violence and gore described, Supernatural abilities/beings, Backrooms AU (I’m using things pulled from Backrooms sources however it will not be fully accurate so I can twist it to fit my story), Please be warned that this story includes death and concepts of cannibalism (Even if it’s by an entity), Sexual comments made during physical violence, please look at the Masterlist for the overall warnings
Author’s Note : Hi guys :3 I ended up getting inspired to create a backrooms ateez AU so here’s the first chapter :) Reader will be using they/them pronouns in this fic because ik the nonbinary and trans hoes gonna love a backrooms AU
Word Count : 3.1k
Series Masterlist
Tingling.
The only sensation in your body when you abruptly sit up; catching your breath as if you’d just woken up from a nightmare. Little did you know, you were now living one.
Sweat clings to your skin like a needy child, your chest heaving when you look around you. This isn’t your bedroom.
Confusion mixes with the fear and adrenaline already coursing throughout your being. Your throat feels tight, like a rope is wrapped around it. You feel as if you’re suffocating with anxiety and a pit in your stomach is filled with dread.
Where am I? Is the only coherent thought you have inside that skull of yours. Everything else is a jumbled array of words.
Your eyes well up with tears after a few moments of shock, just sitting on the carpet that you notice feels damp. You finally start to get past the state you find yourself in while observing your newfound surroundings.
Had you wandered into the back of a store? Maybe you’re just dreaming? Maybe you’re a sleepwalker and just didn’t know? There had to be a reasonable explanation for this. Something logical, something solid, something real.
Yellow wallpaper covers the hallways around you, florescent lights are flickering and already giving your sensitive eyes a growing ache. It smells of mold, but also something sterile and familiar, nostalgic even. You can feel the humidity in the air but you still have the chills. The air feels moist but like an AC unit was left on. Kind of like the produce isle of a grocery store.
The thought of you being equal to vegetables kept in the perfect conditions causes a shudder to roll down your spine.
What’s going on? You exhale a sigh while closing your eyes again; silently praying that when they open, you’ll be back home.
Yet when they open back up, you’re still met with the oddly empty space. There’s not a whole lot of anything here, you note from your spot on the floor.
You blink away the tears, finally standing up. You may not know where you are but that doesn’t mean you’re in trouble or in danger. You know it’s important to stay cautious, but you shouldn’t let panic overtake you just yet.
You take a deep breath in, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out. Something about holding your breath can be very regulating, until you no longer have the choice to breathe.
You dust off your clothes, who knows how dirty this floor is. Now to just find the exit.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚
You’ve been wandering aimlessly for a few minutes now. There’s no signs, no furniture, just endless halls and rooms of the same yellow wallpaper. The anxiety was still there but you were determined to get out nonetheless. Your body wouldn’t let you break down when it was in fight or flight at this current moment.
Your heart is pounding against your ribcage, you can feel your heartbeat in your eyes, even see it pulsing in your field of vision. You thought about calling out to someone in the building, but what if they were the one that took you here in the first place? Your feet keep a steady pace throughout the direction you’ve picked to walk in. Your body on autopilot to find a way out while your mind is still conflicting itself with screaming for help.
What if someone locked me in here? What if this is an experiment? Like the maze runners! You knew this wasn’t what was actually happening. But your brain can’t help but to come up with scenarios that scare you even more.
You shake your head, physically removing the thought from your mind like an etch a sketch. Yet it still lingers in the back of your awareness.
You stop walking momentarily when you realize this just isn’t working. You’re lost and this place really is like a maze. Maybe there’s a map somewhere that you can find? You aren’t sure how long it could take to find that.
…
How long could you be here for? You begin to speculate. What if I don’t find my way out? It’s only been maybe 20 something minutes but that’s still a long time to be lost in a building. Especially one that looks the exact same everywhere you look.
You tap your fingertips against your pants, the denim material catching against the edge of one of your nails.
“Fuck—!” You exclaim, jumping in pain slightly, wincing when you revel in the fact that your nail just broke, tiny droplets of blood bubbling up and dropping onto the floor.
That’s when it hits you. A trail.
You can leave a trail.
Albeit, the blood from a broken nail wouldn’t be a large enough amount to last you very long, it was still worth a shot.
You walk straight down the hallway you’re in, making sure to leave big enough blood splotches in the damp, beige carpet you’re standing on. A few steps away from where you’d turn the corner, you glance down at the floor and see a drop of blood.
Thinking it must’ve just fallen when you weren’t looking you take another step forward, only to see another droplet in the carpet. This one couldn’t have been from you. You’re still a few steps away from it…
But just in case, you turn back around, going back down the hall to where you know you left blood. But it’s gone.
Your eyebrows furrow, tongue poking at your cheek in confusion. Your expression switches to one of concentration once an idea takes root in your mind. You swipe some of your blood onto the wall, big enough for you to see clearly and then make your way back down the hall. Once again you see the bloody mark on the wall, but this time it’s not even fully down the hallway. You turn back around once again to where you know you left the mark, but it’s also gone.
Hysteria is slowly setting into your bones. What’s going on?
You couldn’t be sure but now logic was out the window, something here is wrong.
You begin to run down the hallway, sprinting into random directions in an attempt to see something— anything new. Anything different.
You just keep seeing the same walls. The same carpet. The same electrical sockets. The same oddly placed surveillance cameras. Everything is the same, same, same. A fully fledged meltdown is on it’s way and you can feel it.
You keep running. Running until your feet are sore, running until your lungs are begging you to stop, running until your sides hurt.
Finally, you stop running. You’re absolutely winded. Gasping for oxygen and no matter how much fills your lungs, it’s not enough.
And then you scream; your body yelling at you with everything in it to get out of here. It’s driving you crazy and it’s been god knows how long. Not very long but too long. You finally break down, falling to your knees, breathing unsteady and shaky. Whimpers escape your mouth while you curl in on yourself. Everything is just too much.
Then the lights flicker, but it’s not the same as before. It goes out entirely before turning back on. You glance around you, tears still wet against your cheek. You immediately notice two things. The first being that an electrical socket moved when the lights went out, and the second being that one of the rooms up ahead is entirely pitch black.
Your nerves tell you that you shouldn’t go in there, at least not without a light. You’re still in an unfamiliar environment. But where are you gonna find a flashlight? You’ve already tried walking through all the lit up areas. Following the lights like a bug to a porch light. What if it’s the dark that leads to the outside world?
You wipe at your face with the sleeve of the jacket you’re wearing, wanting to appear more put together. Then it hits you.
Do I have my phone? You finally think, how could you forget about your phone?
You begin to check your pockets, your jeans don’t hold anything, and neither does your left jacket pocket. But the right one feels heavier. You slip your hand inside and feel the familiar touch of your phone case. A sigh of relief subconsciously exhales from your mouth as you close your eyes for a moment.
I guess I just assumed I didn’t have it anymore… You unlock your phone and hit the phone app. Dialing the emergency number you’ve memorized your whole life. Then it rings…
And rings…
And rings….
And then the call just drops, your phone making a disconnected noise. You check your service, it’s completely out in here.
But why did it ring if there’s no service? This makes no sense… You begin to get frustrated. You contemplate what your next move is. So you stand back up, and turn on your phone’s flashlight. A light is a light, you comment internally.
You tread carefully into the pitch black area, the buzzing of electricity and nothing else unsettles you, particularly when there’s an absence of luminescence. Your breath feels like it’s caught in your throat when you hear a noise. Automatically you spin around.
Nothing is there. But now you feel like you’re being watched. Is it just paranoia? Is it the truth?
You decide to ignore the clawing reaction your body seems to hold onto in this moment. You feel disoriented, like you have a high fever.
You push yourself further into the darkness of the rooms and halls bordering you. Something shifts in your peripheral vision and you whip your head towards it. Giving yourself a dizzying sensation, you stabilize yourself.
Suddenly you hear something sharp scratching at one of the walls. You slowly twist your being towards the noise, not wanting to alert whatever it is of your presence. But you know that won’t work; you know that it knows you’re here.
You flinch when your eyes connect with the black physique of something standing against a wall in the dark. Your flashlight hasn’t landed on it yet but all you see is the shape of a body with white glowing eyes and razor sharp teeth.
You swallow thickly, your mouth drying out and now parched from all the previous activity and stress responses. You point the light of your flashlight in the trajectory view of the entity.
It moves quickly back into the shadows once the light lands on it. The swift movement sets off alarms in your subconscious mind.
In the brief flash that it was in your view, you made a quick finding. You found that it was a man, approximately 5’6” to 5’9” but you couldn’t be sure. You saw the tiniest color of something red or ginger in the facial area. Was it hair? Blood..?
Your voice is meek and quiet but still holds a tone of authority in it. “Who are you?” You demand him to answer. But he stays silent.
“Say something—!” You shout in agitation, lifting the phone back into his line of sight but he’s faster. He knocks the device out of your hand, hissing when a shine of it hits him in the face.
“Stop that.” He finally speaks, his body language conveying that he’s angry and sensitive to luminesce. You look at him and then peek back at your phone on the ground. You hurriedly reach for the electronic, he connects the dots instantly and before you know it, he’s lunging at you.
His form tackles yours down to the ground, the back of your head hitting against the hard surface. The carpet did nothing to soften the fall. You go to push him off but he pins your wrists beside your face, framing you against the floor.
The odd glowing of his face gets brighter now, almost like a lightbulb. You’re 100% sure that if he were in normal lighting, he wouldn’t look so odd. However, in the dark, it’s almost like he’s wearing a mask.
It’s hard to describe his unreal characteristics, but it’s like his body naturally blends into the shadows. You can tell he’s pale so it doesn’t make sense to you. The glowing of his eyes and teeth seem to be slightly projected to make himself be perceived as a bigger threat. It’s like the whites of his eyes and teeth are so bright they’ve created their own glow in the dark effect.
“What are you—” You start to question before he slams the palm of his hand over your mouth. He’s straddling you, and leans down towards your neck. He breathes in deeply, and it becomes rickety at the end. The hum that reverberates from him is wobbly, like he’s starving. Distress floods your senses, and you lick the palm of his hand, hoping it would get him to move but it barely works.
He grimaces slightly at the feeling, his face scrunching up in the smallest amount of disgrace at your action. “Wait your turn.” He scolds, his face mischievous.
You’re in the middle of trying to figure out what that means, one of your worst fears popping up into the blank slate that is your psyche.
And all at once, you feel something pierce your neck. If not the jugular, it was close by to where his teeth sunk in. Your eyes widen at the prickle of blood that slips from the wound and into his mouth. The pain didn’t fully settle in until you mentally caught up to the situation. The panic in you causing the pain to worsen now that your attention was on it. Then it’s like a dam breaks, and your neck is spurting blood past his lips. It’s fast paced and messy as you watch in horror at this… man? Thing? Feast upon your body.
You’re aware of the pain but his hand is muffling any noise you could possibly make, and that’s only if he hasn’t destroyed your vocal cords yet. You’re terrified, and wondering how long you have to live.
He proceeds by biting down harder, and in the midst of the pain you could swear that a bit of your flesh is ripped from you and goes down his esophagus. You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs, moving the chunk of your skin and muscle down to his stomach.
Your body, in which is pinned underneath him, is flailing and failing. You’re squirming in agony, your muscles aching and begging for the pain in the side of your neck to stop. All the movement you’re making doesn’t change his position on top of you.
He pulls back, your carotid artery pushing out more and more liquid gold to this man. He swipes at the bloody mess with his thumb, looking you in the eyes as he sucks on his digit.
“Sorry lovely… Captains have to take care of their boats or they’ll crash. We wouldn’t want my body to fail on me, now would we?” The ginger haired man smiles down at you. One of the overhead lights flicker on. Unfortunately for you, the radius of the light doesn’t influence him. But it’s enough for you to see his pretty features even in the poorly lit area.
You’ve had entirely too much of this. The pain is now spiking and unbearable. Everything around you is slowly fading out, and you realize you’re losing consciousness. Your eyes flutter, rolling into the back of your head and you can tell he’s enjoying the view when he tilts his head.
“Oh poor baby…” He mocks whilst you’re bleeding out. Mocking you as you’re dying under him.
“Here, have a little taste of heaven.” He quips, removing his hand from your lips. Uncovering them as your body begins to still on the carpet, now soaked in your blood. His index and middle finger gather some of the ichor as he digs into the gaping wound near your collar.
You don’t feel much anymore. At least not physically. You feel discomfort and the pressure of his fingertips clawing into you. But you don’t feel shooting pain as much now.
His two digits switch from the hole in your neck and instead replace themselves with the hole that your mouth is.
“There you go… tastes good doesn’t it?” He whispers to you and then your eyes shut for what you think will be forever.
𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚
Your eyelids flash open, sitting back up abruptly. The palm of your hand flying to your throat as you gain consciousness. A whimper of distress sounds from you because the second you started to stir, you remembered what happened. Only to find there’s no wound, no blood, no monster.
This is too familiar, you find yourself thinking in a fright. You momentarily considered that maybe you woke up from a nightmare. Then you look around and recognize your atmosphere. The same yellow walls and carpeted flooring.
But there’s no indication of you ever being attacked, except for the memory that’s lingering around. No hemoglobin coating your clothes or the background you find yourself in. No mysterious man who just added new trauma to your little human brain.
You can’t even tell if you’ve been in this specific spot yet. You’re stuck here, trapped and unsure what to do or where to go. What if he comes back? What if there’s more of him?
You don’t allow yourself to wallow there. The last thing you remember happening hasn’t processed yet, and quite frankly you don’t want it to process or be real yet. Living in denial with no proof it ever happened is a blessing and a curse. Ignorance is bliss when it is foolish to be wise or whatever that one author said.
Why acknowledge something right now if it won’t help you get out of this situation?
There’s really not much for you to do except roam the building and hope something catches your oculi that is abnormal.
This is all abnormal.