She couldn’t see, her eyes unfocused, everything was blurred in her vision. She couldn’t hear, her breathing being the loudest noise in the living room she could comprehend. She felt like her lungs were collapsing, no matter how many times she tried to breathe, it seemed like the air wasn’t filling her airways.
Their fight had escalated too quickly, both of them fuelled by their anger. Her anxiousness getting out of control as the dyed blond-haired boy’s voice in front of her got louder and louder. The sudden pain in her face had been the trigger of her current state, her on the floor, desperately grasping her throat, clawing the skin of her neck, leaving red scratches on the surface.
Hwang Hyunjin was watching down on her, his face void of any emotion, but deep in his eyes joy and pleasure could be seen. He felt delighted, he had finally achieved his long-awaited goal of breaking the dark-haired girl, who was currently shaking with anxiety before him.
He approached her slowly and quietly, a wicked smile on his face as the girl’s watery and fearful eyes held eye contact with his. Hyunjin crouched down, harshly grabbing the weakened girl’s jaw, forcing her to keep the eye-contact unwillingly.
“I told you I would break you, that I would destroy you, didn’t I? You can’t run away from me, baby, you won’t ever run away from me.“
The held girl, upon hearing his words, tried to free herself from the harsh grip that was starting to mark her skin.
The towering boy held in one hand the flying wrists trying to hit him, automatically, he moves his hand from her jaw and places it on the fighting girl’s neck before he starts applying pressure.
“You are going to stay with me until I get bored of you.”
That was the last thing the trembling girl heard before losing consciousness in the arms of the boy she once loved.
Even with the unconscious body in his embrace, the crazy and triumphant look in his eyes, and the wicked smile never left Hyunjin’s face.
– WARNINGS: choking, strangulation, murder, description of murder, psychopath!chan, murderer!chan, idol!chan, implied established relationship, implied toxic relationship, wolfgang!chan
She felt the cold, sliver chain digging into the skin of her neck, blocking her airway. Black spots appearing in her vision, her lungs screaming for oxygen, her legs numb because of the weight on top of them.
It had been so sudden, so unexpected. She had been watching her boyfriend perform from the darkness and safeness of backstage, feeling extremely proud for everyone performing on stage.
She could feel the excitement, the adrenaline rushing through the kids' veins. It was the final performance, and they were giving it all.
She knew how dangerous an adrenaline rush could be, when someone's high on the hormone they can feel invincible, even paranoid. Yet, she underestimated her own boyfriend while high on adrenaline.
She couldn't remember how she got to the green room, if she had talked with the other members, if she had congratulated them. Her mind was blank. She could only remember the way Chan took off the silver chain around his body and wrapped it around her neck. She could only remember the way they fell to the floor in a struggle.
Chan was on top of her, eyes dark and empty, pupils dilatated, staring coldly into her eyes. The caring man she knew he was wasn't the person in front of her. The stage had changed him, so much.
She tried to speak, but the grip on the chain tightened around Chan's wrists as he pulled harder, the girl beneath him desperately trying to separate the silver chain from her neck as her skin started to feel like it was burning.
He could see the light starting to fade out, her arms were slowly losing strength, not being able to fight against him. This only heightened the adrenaline level in his veins.
She was choking to death and she couldn't do anything about it. His strength overpowered hers, it always had. She was scared, and he knew it.
Chan had always dreamt of being the reason her soul left her body. Because he loved her, he wanted to be the one to do it, in lieu of a stranger, and the adrenaline just gave him the impulse he needed.
As she became lifeless in his arms, Chan hugged her one last time, thinking he was protecting her.
She had been dancing in her room, blasting her music so loud she was sure it could be heard in the houses down the street. She didn’t feel guilty about it, she was trying to enjoy herself while trying to get rid of boredom.
Well, maybe she did feel guilty, but only for her next-door neighbour. She really didn’t know him, only talked to him once when he moved in a few years back. Maybe that’s why she felt a little bit bad.
Another tap was heard.
Turning her body towards her window, she pulled the curtains apart, seeing her neighbour Chan tapping on his window with a wide smile on his face.
She looked at him with confusion written on her face, eyes filled with curiosity.
Chan reached to grab something out of her visual field, surprising her when he pulled back to show a black pen in his hand. Pulling off the cap, he grabbed a blank notebook and started writing.
“Wanna talk?” read the now inked paper. A small smile made its’ way to her face, her hand reaching out to grab a notebook of her own and to do the same thing Chan did.
A shy smile appeared in Chan’s face, but it turned into a smirk, hand quickly writing a response.
“Well, that’s how they did it in the music video, right?”
That’s when she realized, You Belong With Me had been playing in the background.
King Christopher looked untouchable as he walked down the stairs of the castle. His walk had a certain elegance that made the women of his kingdom swoon over him.
She was one of them. For her, the king was beautiful in every way. He took care of his subjects, always taking into consideration what his people wanted, always searching for ways to make their lives easier. For her, the king was ethereal.
Yes, the King was handsome, very handsome, but she tried to look past that, to appreciate who he was as a human being. She thought that it must be tiring for the king to always have a facade, acting as he was perfect, without flaws.
She knew better than that, but she appreciated the fact that he always tried to look happy so his people would feel at ease.
For her, King Christopher was a good man whom she could only appreciate in the distance. Or so she thought.
The King had noticed her. He noticed how she never really approached him, how she always respected his personal space, and never overstepped boundaries.
He liked her. He liked how she softly smiled at him every time he looked in her direction, he liked how she helped around the kingdom, helping the elderly. He saw how she took care of people, how she really cared for their well-being.
Perhaps he had found his queen after searching for so long.
– WARNINGS: implied depression. the way it has been described is heavily inspired by experience. people may have coped differently. this is in no way a generalization.
Negative thoughts started conquering her once positive mind.
In the beginning, she tried fighting them off, trying to always find something positive in whatever her brain was questioning. And it worked, for a while. But it soon became too exhausting to do so.
She would get home exhausted and head towards her bedroom to rest, to hide from the world underneath the blankets. Skipping meals because her body only had enough energy and will to get her to the warmth of her bed.
Her body acted on autopilot, only doing the minimum to survive.
Chan noticed a small change at first but brushed it off as stress. Until she started to shut the world out. Until her personality started to completely change. Until he noticed her skipping meals too frequently.
She no longer was the bubbly and happy girl she once was. She stayed quiet more often, her talking essence lost deep within her brain, repressed.
Chan missed her old self. He didn’t know what to do to make things better, he didn’t know how to make her slowly come back.
He felt like he was losing her the longer she stayed hidden in her shell.
He started racking his brain, trying to find solutions somewhere in his mind, searching for answers to the situation.
His first step on his plan to help her was with small and discreet actions; hugging her as soon as her eyes opened, giving her forehead kisses before and after every meal, bringing home small plushies he knew she had wanted for a long time, like an Eevee plushie or the bipolar octopus plushie. Gifts and actions that did manage to bring out a very small smile on her face.
Still, it didn’t completely help. She was still keeping to herself, still fighting the battles alone. She didn’t want to burden other people, she wanted to appear strong, like nothing was going on. But the emotional exhaustion was slowly starting to show.
Chan went along with another strategy; he began to subtly check in on her during the day, sending her text messages concerned about her well-being, “did you have a bite today?”. When he had to stay back at the company or dorms, he would text her, “did you manage to rest today?”. She never told him, but she was extremely grateful for his efforts and concern to make everything a little bit better.
One late night she received another message from Chan, who was working until the early hours of the morning. “I love you no matter what your brain tells you,” it read. She broke down as soon as her eyes reached the last word, and her brain fully processed the caring and full of love message from her significant other.
Chan found her bawling her eyes out as he opened the door to their shared room. The message had been the straw that broke the camel’s back.
The emptiness and numbness she felt deep within her being were starting to be too much. The fake happy façade getting too much to keep up with, cracks were starting to appear on the mask she wore every day. The demons in her mind poisoning her with so much negativity and toxicity her eyes started to be void of light. She was alive, but she felt like a walking corpse that felt no emotion.
Chan said nothing, and crawled into bed next to her, immediately cuddling her.
“Just close your eyes, baby. I will still be here when you open them again. Always. I’m not leaving,” he whispered into the night, causing her sobs to get slightly louder, her hands searching for his, clutching them close to her heart.
She didn’t quite believe it yet, but everything was going to get better. It always did.
[ 𝟎𝟐:𝟑𝟎 ] Chan was leaning on one of the four walls of the room. He watched her dance to the loud music playing in the rented local. She was on the imaginary dance floor next to Felix, getting closer and dancing together playfully as if they were a couple.
He tried convincing himself that he shouldn’t be jealous. Chan knew they were just friends, but the feelings he was trying to hide were slowly surfacing, as well as his doubts. Was she getting bored of him? Did she want to end the non-verbal relationship they had? Was that even a relationship?
Chan looked at his alcohol half-filled cup, feeling the urge to drink it as if it was a shot. Although they weren’t dating, there was something clearly going on between them, having spent so many nights together for the past five months.
Finishing his drink and throwing the cup away, chan walks closer to where the duo was. They were drunkenly laughing, finding the words funnier than they usually are.
Chan softly grabs her wrist, tugging it with the same delicacy. She looks at him, confusion was written on her features. She follows him through the corridor connected to the room, the wind of the night entering through the door on the other end, making contact with the naked skin on her arms.
Once outside, Chan reaches to grab her waist, bringing her closer. She lets him, bringing her hands to his neck, running her fingers through his hair. She sensed his uneasiness, his dubious thoughts.
“I told myself I shouldn’t be jealous, but I can’t help myself,” Chan whispered, his lips awfully close to hers. She moves her left hand from the back of his neck to caress his right cheek, Chan closing his eyes at the loving gesture.
“It’s ok to be slightly jealous. We are together, aren’t we?” Said words caused Chan to open his eyes suddenly in disbelief. She was softly smiling at him, eyes full of love and adoration.
Chan swore he was on cloud nine. With a boost of confidence, he gently leans in and kisses her lips, pulling apart a few seconds later before she’s the one kissing him.
It felt like it was just them, sharing soft kisses in the middle of the night, without any worries on their minds.
– SUMMARY: an irreversible "mistake" was made when felix lost control of his body, but it was okay, he would protect them together until they reunited again.
– PAIRING: lee felix x gn!reader
– GENRE: angst
– WORDS: 0.9k
– WARNINGS: description of a crime scene, gore, description of injuries, description of murder, blood, knives, physical fighting, choking (non-sexual), refusal to let go of the body, psychopath!felix
Felix woke up to an eerily empty house, the void of sound and light making him confused and wary of his surroundings. The darkness, the coldness and the silence in the house was very uncharacteristic of it. His partner always tried to make it more welcoming and warmer, always leaving a small light on for safety, always leaving soft music playing on repeat.
As he tried to learn more about his surroundings, he took a quick look to the bright, digital red clock in the room that told him how long he had been passed out.
Three hours. He had been asleep for three hours, and he could not remember anything that happened before he disconnected from the world. Felix didn't know what had happened during that time, and the house so far didn't give him any hint. He didn't know what he had done for the past three hours, he didn't know if he had actually been asleep. He didn't remember laying down in bed and closing his eyes. He couldn't remember anything. He just knew he woke up in their bed, alone, their side of the bed unusually cold.
Feeling the soft sheets, he tried sitting up, the action bringing him a sudden headache, hands shooting up to soothe his temples, immediately noticing a certain moisture in them, not being able to pinpoint what it was.
He tried focusing on remembering, his last vivid memory taking place in the kitchen. They were arguing, he was sure about that. What he wasn't so sure about was why they were fighting. He clearly remembered the screaming match, hurtful words making their way out, both parties unable to stop them from coming out. Their eyes were filled with rage, emitting so much hatred you'd never think they were once a loving couple.
He got up slowly with a small sigh, bare feet making contact with the cold floor, taking his time trying to continue to remember as he headed to the bathroom.
When he got there, he reached to turn on the lights, expecting to see messy hair and sleepy eyes staring back at him. But that wasn't what he faced.
The mirror in front of him showed a horrific reflection that completely froze him in shock. He hadn't expected to see the image staring back at him covered in red stains. What looked like blood splatter was all over his clothes and face, his hands were stained in abundance, as if he had placed them in a can of red paint.
His brain struggled to process the information given to him, but he soon connected the dots.
Fearing the worse, he quickly dashed out of the restroom, praying that his worst fear hadn’t become reality, that he didn't do what he thought he'd done.
But luck wasn’t on his side.
As he got to the end of the corridor and the entrance to the kitchen he knew when he smelled the metallic scent. How he hadn't noticed before was astonishing to him, it was a notorious and strong scent. He tried to believe they were just injured, that they weren't fatal and that they would still be breathing when he got there, but his suspicion was confirmed as soon as he saw them.
They were laying in a pool of dense dark red liquid, in the middle of the kitchen, unmoving.
He got closer with shaky steps, his bloodied hand running through his blonde hair, staining it. The kitchen looked like a massacre had occurred, although not quite. Blood was splattered on the cabinets and the ceiling, the floor filled with bloody footprints, the kitchen counter stained with their handprint.
Suddenly, flashes of what had occurred started playing in his brain. He saw how he lounged towards them, hand reaching to grab their hair. He saw them avoiding him, running towards the door of the kitchen, trying to get out.
The memory flashes continued: him grabbing the knife, yanking their hair, holding the knife to their throat as a threat. He then remembers pain in his stomach from getting punched in self defence, then a slap to his right cheek.
What came next was the murder. He saw how he threw them to the floor, hand to throat keeping them in place, straddling their hips as the sharp end of the knife hovered over their heart. How he stabbed their heart as their pleas fell to deaf ears.
He refused to believe he had done this. It felt like someone else had done it, but this situation, strangely enough, didn't faze him. He didn't feel any type of remorse towards the fact that he had killed them, and that he couldn't bring them back to life.
As he kneeled right by their corpse, with the knife still embedded in their chest, he didn’t feel remorse nor felt saddened by what had happened. He reached to caress their tear-stained face with love, looking into their now-empty eyes as he got closer to leave a soft kiss on their forehead. In a soft whisper, he promised to keep them forever, to protect them until they reunited again.
With caution, he grabbed the knife handle and tugged, quickly covering the wound in case more blood spilled, but none rushed out. Throwing the knife onto the tilted kitchen floor, he picked them up bridal style and walked towards their bedroom.
He refused to let go of them, they weren't leaving him. Not if he could help it.
Unbeknownst to Felix, a presence was watching his every move. He was right, they weren't leaving.
tagged by @timextoxhajima ! thank you for the tag bby !!!
quiz: what element writer are you?
results: frostbite writer
description: "the impossible writer. a walking contradiction, so beautiful, with pain wrapped all wound you. your characters taste the best and worst of this world, just like you did. and they get hurt, covered in scars and with their heart in pieces, but they keep walking, pain in their eyes and in their every step. but just like your characters, you don't give up. everything hurts, but you still go on. your stories are deep, sometimes the reader needs to read through the lines, sometimes not, but the feelings you describe linger in your reader's hearts for long. you're able to leave a print. usually you write stories that carry with them the burden you had to carry, but when you write about a pure love, your readers will find the comfort of a hug from a loved one. you're passionate, love hard and forever. frostbite writers tasted the bitter of life, and know how to keep immortal a feeling. your stories will make your reader lose themselves in another universe, and when they come back, something will be changed forever."
tagging: @luminois @anskiie @riel-precious (tagging u bby bc of the amazing fics you give us on the server🤍) @crispy-chan @chaninfused @blueprint-han @ceruleanskies
note — this idea is credited to @orphic-chan !! I have her permission to use it, so mei I hope you like this :“( and that I did it justice <333 🥺 I’m fond of this blurb xkxjxjjdjdjdjdjd
“Hey look!”
Your face lights up with the pure joy of a child as you run towards the store, gazing through the glass with heightened excitement. Your husband grins at you, walking to where you’re standing and staring at the display case.
– WARNINGS: choking, implied murder, implied murderer!minho, psychopath!minho, psychopath!reader, suggestive (in some way)
“Lee Minho!” she howled as soon as she saw the unconscious girl sprawled out on her apartment floor. She didn't want that image to be the first thing she saw when returning to her home, to her boyfriend.
Her lip quivered in response to her trying to contain her anger directed at the scene in front of her, betrayal clearly written on her face, her eyes trying to hide the pain that was slowly starting to fuel her anger.
At the lack of response, her eyes turned cold, almost emotionless with a hint of excitement and playfulness, as a mischievous smirk slowly appeared. “You really thought I wouldn't find out, Minho?” she chuckled, entertained.
“Oh, no, baby, I knew you would. I just wanted to see how long it took before you figured it out,” he answered in exterior calmness as he walked towards her. He was shaking with such excitement it was becoming hard to hide. “Besides, I wanted to start the game with you, playing alone is no longer fun,” he continued, pouting.
As he stopped right in front of her, his right hand softly and lovingly caressed her hair. As she was starting to lean towards his hand, another hand made it's way to her neck, constricting around it as if it were a snake trapping its' prey, the pressure applied on her aorta leaving her lightheaded. Her coldness towards him immediately vanished.
She felt the hand pulling her forward, making her slightly tumble before the hand that used to be petting her hair ended grabbing her by the waist.
With half lidded eyes, she met Minho's intense gaze on her, studying her. He wanted her to join him. To join him in his deranged games that brought him pleasure.
Closing the almost non-existent distance between them, Minho applied more pressure on her throat, lips grazing each other in hesitant want and restraint.
“Won't you join me, baby?" he hummed. “Won't you help me break her? Our playtoy?”
The hand grasping her throat tightened at her lack of immediate response, a shaky breath leaving her as her right hand went to grab his.
“Come on, baby, don't be shy. Let loose what I know you're holding back.”
“Yes,” her voice whispered.
“Perfect,” he smirked, before kissing her aggressively with pent up anger and excitement.
This was exactly what he had wanted for so long, and he was going to take it.
Poor little victim didn't know what was coming her way. Or, if she would even come out alive.
rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. then, people can send asks with the title that most intrigues/interests them and you’ll post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it!
