#fucking nutjobs trying to take baby me from my mom ...

[sessakag]

Now all I can think about is Prey!Papa-Naruto because it would be the wildest funniest thing ever! Poor Hinata is probably trying to make sure her kids grow up to be good morally upstanding people and Naruto is just….Yeah 😬. Funnily enough this Naruto probably wouldn’t have as much of a contentious relationship with Boruto because there’s no way he’s putting work above spending time how he wants 😭. And as a Kawaki hater I’m pleased to say I don’t see this Naruto being altruistic enough to take in some random abused kid so really we’ve got my ideal version of the Uzumaki family 🫢. Anyway, I bet parent-teacher conferences and kiddy playdates and birthday parties are gonna be fun times 🤣. Speaking of bday parties happy early birthday! I hope it’ll be a fun one.

Daddy Prey!Naruto is the funniest thing ever, lol.

For sure, Naruto would spend time with his little mini-me. Who would stop him?

I feel like Boruto would be very aware that his father is a homicidal nutjob and spend his time trying to keep innocents out of harms way, but he does it in ways that are just as bad as his father, because of course, the apple doesn't fall that far from the tree, and that he has this huge blind spot to when his own inner crazy is starting to show, lol. And of course, mess with his mom or baby sister, well then, you'll have a hard time telling Naruto and Boruto apart at all🤭he'd justify his violence and the bodies in his closet because Prey!Narupapa taught him that delusion is just another way to say correct, and there's nothing wrong with customizing your own reality when it's convenient. He'd also spend so much time trying to undo Hima's worst tendencies their dad is teaching her in an effort to help his mom out, but ends up making it worse by teaching her "alternative" tendencies that are just as bad but much more slicker than his father's open bluntness, which ultimately, makes Hinata's job harder, lol. Poor lady, I can see her trying to explain the situation to her crazy husband. Hinata: I'm trying to make sure the kids have a moral compass, Naruto Naruto: The fuck they need that for?

I'll be honest, I really don't know all that much about Kawaki since I don't watch the show, but his design is very cool, and the clips I've seen of him on youtube I vibe with🤭but Naruto being altruistic and adopting a poor orphan? Not fuckin likely at all, lol. Prey!Naruto wouldn't care about any kids but his own🤷🏽‍♀️so you're all set for sure, lol.

Parent-teacher conferences would be lit af😂imagine Naruto's big buff tatted up self sitting in one of those itty bitty chairs at a table lower than his knees while the teacher tries to get him to understand that it's not a good thing that his little girl is drawing her classmates with their heads somewhere other than on their shoulders🤣he would be so insulted and have a very scary diatribe about why Hima's work is "art" not a "red flag". The teacher would resign the next day by the time he was done. Omg birthdays🙈One word: Pinata. Take that as you will, lmao!

And omg, I wanna write Prey!Naruto at a PTA meeting, lmao! And you'd think Hinata was the one that dragged him to it, but NO, he'd go on his own because he's a super paranoid bastard that needs to know what is going on in his orbit and that includes his hellspawns, and if he doesn't like what he hears he'll have to retire a few folks to ensure things are being run for the benefit of his offspring😂

Hima's not doing a kiddy playdate, study date, pretend date, any date. Over somebody else's dead body would Naruto allow his baby girl to do any sorta dating🤣hell naw, and don't @ him about it. End of discussion. Why? Because Naruto knows how guys are, and considering the things he does to Hima's mother on a regular basis, he's dead set on not letting any guy near his daughter until she's at least 80 years old, if she's lucky. Teen!Hima good luck trying to date or get a boyfriend😅especially since big brother's not gonna be too keen on the idea either, lol. And thank you for the early birthday wishes!!💕

I feel like this SOL Prey!Naruto family is set in stone to be a thing at this point, lmao. I'm certainly sold on it. I won't say whether or not I plan on Hinata getting knocked up in Prey, ya'll will have to wait and find out but I definitely think this should be a full SOL fic at this point, lol. It's just too good to pass up🤭

[wh6res]

UP IN SMOKES — DOYOUNG

psych student! kdy | tw. college au, violence, a knife, GASLIGHTING, hallucination, psychosis, swearing, just pure manipulation, minor charac death, there's a court scene, this is a repost! | wc. 10k she a beast

life could’ve been simple;

you shouldn't have met kim doyoung.

what does a freshman in college hate the most other than the high-stress levels of moving into a new dorm? a shitty roomie and a smelly, moldy mattress. the girl you call roommate refuses to help move the mattress because it will ruin her new manicure. what a fucking classic. 

"sounds like a 'you' problem. figure it out yourself, plain jane." 

she said before heading out, annoyingly popping her bubblegum as she kicks a few of your scattered boxes by the front door. you roll your eyes; classes haven't even started yet, so why is she already making your life miserable? as much as you'd like to snap at her, you don't, merely glaring daggers at her back as she finally turns the corner of the hallway and disappears. 

"bitch," you mutter under your breath. 

you eye the abomination that is supposed to be your bed, cursing how you shouldn't have made a 15-minute pit stop to starbucks for a drink when you could've just bought one from the instant coffee vending machines in every corner of the hallway of this dorm building because if you didn't, maybe you could've beaten regina george wannabe from taking the better bed. sighing, you suck it up and start getting to work. life's full of shit, anyway; no point sulking.

moving a moldy mattress is easier than you thought, to say the least. you can't ask for help from the other freshmen you bumped into in the hallway because they, too, are under a huge amount of stress from the move and are busy getting their affairs in order. it was a good thing, though, that a committee was formed specifically for this day to help out the freshmen if they were to stumble upon problems or mishaps with moving in. they were all around the campus, and they prove to be way friendlier than your batch mates. since this morning, three people have already offered help in carrying your luggage — which you have politely declined.

"hey, uhm… is this the stall for the welcoming committee? oh, wait. i'm sorry, there's a sign right there —"ugh.

you mentally shut your eyes in humiliation. why do you have to be this bad, this awkward at communicating with strangers? why couldn't you be born like all those socialites who already (probably) got their contacts filled with new numbers on the first day of school or something?

"yeah, this is them — welcoming committee, i mean. how can i help you?" he smiles, sweet, radiating the epitome boy next door aura as he looks up at you from where he's sitting behind the stall. your eyes quickly land onto the name tag stuck on his varsity jacket before meeting his eyes again. 

"i have an issue with my mattress. it has mold, you see..." your voice slowly trails, becoming quieter as you feel small under the weight of his piercing stare. oh, come on. he's just a guy with a beautiful face, woman the fuck up.

"really? let me see..."

he needn't finish rounding the stall when his nose is hit by the pungent smell brought forth by your mattress. frankly, you weren't that picky. you could've covered it with bedsheets and call it a day, but the odor is too strong to ignore. you mentally hope the smell didn't latch onto your clothes, especially not when someone so cute is around — what a bad first impression.

"oh, god!" he exclaims the moment he lays eyes on it, taking a step back. “now, that has to go. and you lugged it from the fourth floor?" 

ah, yes. according to tradition in these dormitories, which you've only found out today, freshmen get the curse of climbing four flights of stairs up while the seniors strut into their rooms on the ground floor like the hallway is a goddamned runway. 

"doyoung! help me carry these!"

someone calls his name as you both turn your head to spot a chestnut-haired girl clad in the same varsity jacket he's wearing. you grimace at the sight of her. for someone so small, she just had to volunteer to carry all those heavy bags. however, he doesn't move in front of you and brushes her off as if she doesn't look like she's carrying rocks over her shoulders. "i'm already helping someone else! go find taeyong or something. i'm sure that shit's loitering around here somewhere!"

"oh, it's okay, you can go help her. i'll just look for someone else —"

"nah, it's fine!" you try hard to school your face into indifference when you notice his gummy smile. "plus… trust me when i say no other person from the committee will help you with this. this shit smells like my roommate's sweaty basketball socks!"

you can't help the smile forming on your face as you help him carry the mattress off to the side of the hallway, the stinky thing leaning vertically against the wall and behind a huge terracotta plant pot. "don't worry, let's report it to student affairs so they'll get you a new one. congrats! you'll have to share beds with your new roommate tonight, freshie. it'd be a great ice breaker."

the universe truly hates you.

your expression must've been a dead give away because he's suddenly patting your shoulder, regarding you with utmost sympathy. "been there, done that. i hated taeyong, too, when i met him last year. still, for some mind fuck of a miracle, we've grown to be friends and developed a talent of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds."

"highly doubt i'd be friends with a regina george-level bitch, but thanks, anyway," you mutter under your breath. suddenly, you whip your head towards him after internalizing what he just said. "you met your roommate last year? you're a sophomore?"

he scoffs, leaning down to your height to lowly mutter against your ear as he eyes the lobby's front desk. "why? do i look like some 4th year who radiates 'don't touch me' energy?" 

you feel the heat on your cheeks with how close he is, only releasing an exhale when he finally gets out of your personal space. "i'm kim doyoung. you've heard it from wendy earlier, but anyway — i'm a 2nd-year psych major."

"no way!" you exclaim, a little too excited. "i'm taking psych, too!"

"oh, you are? well, if you need anything or if you don't understand stuff…" he winks. "feel free to approach me anytime."

hmm… how sweet of him. 

it was only hours later that you found out who kim doyoung is in your department during the acquaintance party. and for god's sake, you found out from your best friend who is a major in english lit and has never even seen the guy. "seriously, you didn't know he's a genius? i hear the professors call him a prodigy, girl! a fucking prodigy. if i were you, i'd ask for his help in every subject."

"you know i prefer keeping to myself. how'd i know stuff like that when i have no one to talk to in the psych dorms?" you look down, making the ice cubes in your drink clink against each other. "i didn't think he was this big shot or whatever. he looks normal, and everyone treats him normally."

"well, what do you expect?" she hisses, hitting your arm. "the other students don't want to make him feel alienated or something just because he's tons smarter than them. but anyway… the real question is…"

you roll your eyes when she pauses for effect, tentatively leaning closer to whisper under her breath. 

"is he cute?"

you didn't want to answer her question, but he's been stuck in your head since he offered walking with you to the student affairs office. doyoung had smiled his cute gummy smile and had even ruffled your hair before leaving you for committee duties — saying he's cute would be an understatement. 

"you have no idea."

for his first act;

he gains your trust.

fast forward to one year, many things have changed, but the only constant remaining is the handsome sophomore — who is now a 3rd-year, by the way — whom you've met on your first day. coursework has been pretty tough this year. instead of the content written in your textbook, your mind is plagued by the horrible twist of fate your best friend had encountered; she didn't have enemies. or so you thought.

she disappeared in the middle of christmas break last year. her beaten up body was found only a month later, in january, floating around the university's lake. happy fucking new year. 

the first time she chose to spend the holidays with you instead of her family back in her hometown, and that happens? some rotten luck you both have. it's why you didn't put it past her family to hate your guts with strong convictions. it's okay. the feeling's mutual. after all, it had been your best friends' own family, the same ones who had been so willing to take you in when you got kicked out, that were so eager to pin you as the murderer of their child. all under the argument that you have been the last person seen with her. 

oh, the things her mom said about you when she had stormed into the police station, red in the face, tears streaming down her cheeks..."i warned my baby not to hang out with that — that bitch. came straight out of a cursed family, that one. abusive dad, a nutjob mom. that bitch is a danger! probably got her dad's nasty temper and beat my baby to death! i want her on the electric chair!"

in those times, you once again realize this world is fucked up and cruel in every bit of its glory as you fought tooth and nail to defend yourself. but even then, they never believed you — the law will only favor the rich . the prosecution had been so sure it was you until a certain witness appeared and presented himself before the jury.

"do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" 

doyoung raises his right hand, fixing his stare straight at the judge. "i solemnly and sincerely declare that the evidence i shall give will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"how long have you known the defendant?" the prosecutor asks, arms crossed in front of her chest as she paces in front of the witness stand.

the boy briefly meets your gaze, and it's enough to make his heart sink. doyoung can't bear seeing you in those grey overalls when he knows it himself. you're being accused of a crime you didn't commit. "i've known her for one year."

"how'd you meet?"

and the questions went on and on; your defense attorney isn't all too keen on winning the case and had never once yelled "objection!" in her seat, but what could you expect? all the evidence kept stacking against you, and some of those you knew were even fabricated. you've never felt this hopeless in your whole twenty years of living. 

"what's the point in this, anyway?" doyoung snapped in the witness stand, fiercely glaring at the prosecutor. "how is my history — or lack thereof — with the defendant any relevant to the case? you're not even asking me about evidence nor what my statement is!"

"easy there," the prosecutor retaliates, jaw locked. "i have to first measure what exactly your relationship is with the defendant for us to think twice about your statement. who knows..." the prosecutor makes a grand gesture of turning her head in your direction, affixing you with a condescending stare. "she might've just hired you to say these things."

your attorney doesn't come to your aid.

"perjury isn't my thing." 

the prosecutor seems to have taken offense by the tone of doyoung's voice, but he doesn't let her speak further. "the victim isn't all sunshine and rainbows, you know. she'd been a part of a sorority and one with quite a nasty reputation in the college, too. i have to say she made very poor decisions, ones i'm sure her family didn't even know about. you see, they take their oaths and pledges very seriously. the victim wanted out. they didn't like that."

"and you have evidence to support this claim?"

without a moment to waste, he digs around the front pocket of his jeans before proudly presenting a black usb between his slender fingers. "knock yourself out."

the professor calls your name, snapping you out of your reverie. this isn't the first time your mind had transported you back to that particular day in the courtroom, where doyoung had swooped in and saved you from a lifetime in prison. the whole ordeal had been so scary, so frightening that you remember everything vividly as if it had only happened yesterday.

the classroom is empty. even your social psych professor has long packed up his stuff and is already standing by the classroom door. damn. were you that out of it?

"i'm so sorry." you mutter under your breath monotonously as you walk past him and out the door without another word. this is bad, very bad. no one would help, much less lend their notes to someone charged with murder — especially of their very own best friend. whether you were innocent or not doesn't matter to the student body. you've been ostracized, gossips of your problematic family spreading like wildfire, and the ridiculous part is only a fourth of the gossips are true.

the damage is done. 

at this point, you realize with a heavy heart that you have to face doyoung again sooner or later. you haven't talked to him at all since the start of the new school year, ignoring his lighthearted greetings in the hallways, rejecting his calls, ghosting his texts. you are afraid people would judge him harshly for hanging around you. frankly, you were embarrassed to ask any more favors from him with how much he's done for you already and the fact that he had seen you in such a state of vulnerability.

but you also didn't want to fail your subjects and lose the one thing holding your life together — your scholarship.

that is why you found yourself standing before him, in his favorite spot in the library tucked behind shelves upon shelves of books, next to the windows overlooking the empty football field. he's wearing black-rimmed glasses and is clad in the usual navy blue sweater as his head turns to and fro between a textbook and his notebook. the air had been so silent, you hear the aggressive scratches his pencil makes against the paper.

you feel a little hurt when he makes no move to acknowledge your presence, but you think back to what you have been doing and figured he has a right to act this way. 

"hey, doyoung." your voice is meek, hesitant.

"if you're not here to explain nor give me an acceptable reason why you've been ignoring me for the last few months, then please get out of my sight. i'm busy, as you can tell." he is brutally honest, knocking down the remaining hope you have left of ever reconciling with him.

something within you snaps, the steady streams of tears running down your cheeks as you pinned your stare on doyoung's open pencil case lying on the table. you have nobody left. your family — father, specifically speaking — has disowned you for taking a course your heart wanted, and the one friend you have lies motionless in a white coffin buried six feet under the ground. you didn't want to lose doyoung, too, no matter what role he plays in your life.

"i'm sorry," your voice cracks. "life's been… fucking shitty, and i'm sure you of all people know what i've been through. i've thanked you before for — for what you did, and i'm thanking you again right now but — i'm sorry, i'm really —"

your voice cracks when you feel him pulling you into an embrace. you feel the tension in your body breaking loose as you crumble in his arms. all those months grieving and wallowing in self-pity took such a heavy toll that you can't help but tightly clutch the sides of his hoodie, scared he'll slip through your fingers.

one of his hands comes up to push your face against the crook of his neck, muffling your cries in the silent library. doyoung felt like a jerk for snapping at you the way he did. how inconsiderate can he be? however, he felt elated because you sought him out yourself and wanted his help of all people.

his eyebrow raises in amusement. 

well, not that you have a choice, anyway.

it took you a few good minutes to calm down, cringing when you see the wet patch on doyoung's sweater because of your tears. 

"why don't you tell me everything, hmm? i'll help you as much as i can."

you sheepishly look down, fiddling with your fingers as you sit across him, the open textbook and notebook before him long forgotten. "well, i've been so out of it lately? my mind's just a whole bloody mess and i can't focus on any of my subjects at all and if i can't, then i'll lose the scholarship and it's the only thing i have in my life right now —"

"hey," doyoung cuts you off, placing a warm hand against your forearm to calm you down. "you won't lose that scholarship. trust me, okay? why don't we arrange tutoring sessions and i'll even lend you some of my notes from last year. what do you think?"

"okay... thank you, doyoung."

"for the record, you have me in your life, too. i'll always be here for you."

in the first session, you woke up from your deep slumber with only 15 minutes to spare from the scheduled time, but thankfully, your tutor only lives one floor down with the rest of the 3rd-years. bringing nothing with you but a pen and a pad of paper, your textbooks were destroyed as some students from your batch thought it'd be fun to throw them into the lake to "honor" your friend. 

you offer a small smile when taeyong opens the door, sporting an oversized shirt and track pants, eyes wide in shock when he sees you. "hi? can i help you?"

"hello! i'm here for doyoung. he's tutoring —"

"he doesn't live here anymore. his mom bought him a place outside the campus."

what?

"i'm sorry for disturbing you, then. do you by any chance know where he lives?"

that's weird. doyoung never mentioned he's already moved out. you feel a wee bit irritated that he forgot to tell you; it would've saved you the embarrassment of interacting with the varsity player. you weren't stupid, you can see the hints of repulsion in taeyong's eyes the moment he opened that door and saw you standing before him, no doubt thinking about: oh, look, it's the crazy murderer with a fucked up family standing in front of me.

he had shut the door in your face. you stood awkwardly for a good minute in the hallway until the door reopens, taeyong handing you a small piece of paper with doyoung's new address scribbled hurriedly in black ink. he doesn't give you a chance to thank him for he's already closed the door again without another word. 

you opted walking to his place instead of catching a ride because the money you have on you is enough to buy yourself dinner. to say the least, the apartment building is mediocre, not too grand, nor is it too rundown. double-checking the floor level written on the paper before pushing the elevator's button, you then realize doyoung lives on the very top floor of the building.

the hallways are painted a boring brown. some acrylic number signs plastered on the doors are broken, hanging vertically with one screw left. it says on the paper he resides in room 720. taking the right hallway, you mentally count as you eye the mahogany doors. 718… 719… there it is!

when you raise a fist to start knocking on his door, there is a tinge of hesitation surging through you. perhaps being alone with a boy in his apartment is not the best setting for a girl like you should end up in, but this is doyoung we're talking about. if he had ill intentions for you, it would've manifested a long time ago. you shake your head, feeling bad for thinking of him that way as you slowly knock on his front door. not long after, it swings open, revealing the 3rd-year in a white shirt and boxers as he lazily dries his hair off with a small towel. 

"you're late," is the first thing he says to you before spinning on his heel to disappear further into his humble abode. 

"you didn't exactly inform me you've moved out of the dorms. so, whose fault is it?" you retaliate, inviting yourself in and closing the front door shut.

"whatever. let's get started!" he plops himself on the floor, coffee table filled with loose papers as he struggles to find a specific one amongst the mess. "i've already scanned, exported to pdf, and emailed you my notes. it should be in your inbox by now. anyway, answer this quiz i made so i know what i'll be working on."

"you didn't really have to send your notes, doyoung. i could've just read everything from the textbook," you sit down across from him because otherwise, you'll be too distracted to remember information. 

a thought crosses his mind. with what textbook?

"i just think it's missing some essence. that's why i love reading over other psych books in the library for fun. be grateful, those notes are like my babies and i don't simply give them to anyone," he looks at you pointedly. "they've all been summarized and explained in layman's terms so you wouldn't have to spend grueling hours of reading and trying to make sense of the big words as i did — i know that's not the definition of 'fun' normally, but it is for me, and that's why i do it."

"okay, doyoung. you sound so defensive when there's nothing to be defensive about," you tease, feeling pleased with the hint of red on his cheeks as he averts his gaze from yours, muttering incoherent words under his breath.

you spent the following tuesdays, thursdays, and sundays like that; hours upon hours with no one but your tutor, laptops with tangled chargers, a printed copy of his babies, and a mountain pile of loose papers filled with the specialized quizzes doyoung makes to measure your progress. the location varies from a cafe or his flat. but in what you've gathered from the time you spent with him, doyoung's a homebody. cafe tutor sessions are rare, and he always complained about how "noisy" the atmosphere was — "i can't stand it."

but the conversation hadn't always been about academics. 

sure, for the first few sessions, doyoung kept an image of professionalism and had heavily insisted on it — "it's for your learning experience!" — despite your lighthearted teasing. but as time passed and he eventually grew more comfortable in your presence, you find the strict 15-minute break he had initially imposed between 45 minutes of studying turned into hours of talking about whatever; how he likes his eggs in the morning, your favorite coffee brew, his favorite show, your strongest pet peeve. 

and you wholly welcomed the change, not minding that it's practically dark out whenever you go back to your miserable dorm. you feel butterflies in your stomach whenever doyoung offers to walk you home but never had you taken his offer, still cautious of other people seeing you both together despite his constant reassurances. you've already thoroughly ruined your image. you didn't want to ruin his, too. 

kdy the cute tutor, 2:14 pm —last day of midterms! & its all majors today  —good luck —remember what i taught u —lets get ice cream after u cant say no

you shake your head bemusedly. his texting style is the most doyoung thing he does and it's as if you can hear him say these things to you in real life. too caught up in your own world, you fail to detect another student sitting next to you and had nearly fallen off your chair in shock when they spoke.

"why are your notes like that?"

you fight the urge to glare at the person, especially when you turn your head and see lee jeno looking at you in genuine curiosity. he's the only batchmate that treats you a wee bit nicer among the rest. although he isn't technically your friend, at least he doesn't look at you like you're a piece of bubblegum stuck under his shoe like all the others.

"what do you mean?"

"they're… the definitions are all jumbled up. where did you even get that?" 

what? jumbled up? doyoung himself said these notes are a combination of most of the psychology books he had read last year concerning his subjects. how would it be jumbled up? then again, lee jeno was not tutored by the prodigy himself. maybe things are bound to seem "jumbled up" when information is too great to understand for a feeble mind. 

just as you were about to claim these notes aren't yours, the professor has already waltzed into the classroom with a thick wad of papers — the exams. after one last concerned glance directed your way, jeno averts his gaze with a confused tilt of the head. 

hours later, you walk out of the classroom with the biggest smile on your face. aced it, you thought. your hands feel numb with how much you wrote on the essay portion but it's worth it if it meant you get the full 25 points, which you no doubt will as it was a topic you surely tackled with doyoung. speaking of... he sure is a man of his word.

"what are you doing here?" you hiss, head ducked with hair framing your face as to not draw attention from the rest of the students filing out of the testing hall.

"i texted you that we're getting ice cream. remember?"

"i did. but i didn't remember agreeing."

he shoots you a comforting smile, planting his hands firmly on your shoulder. “i told you, y/n. i don't care if they all see us together, so what? we all know you didn't commit that crime and it wasn't your fault you were born into the family you had. i don't care about the trivial things, baby, so don't shy away from me, okay?"

how the fuck can you say 'no' when he's looking at you the way he is as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear? doyoung's just so bewitching that he has you wrapped around his slender fingers. he seems pleased when you stumbled over your words as you come up with a reply, caught off guard by his bold gestures.

"i just — you, uhh — fine..." you gave in, rolling your eyes out of pretense.

he just had to call you 'baby' and erupt the butterflies in your stomach.

it had been doing that for the last few months now and it had only truly manifested today when he took you out for ice cream to celebrate the end of hell week. and since you didn't want to go back to your dorm yet, you asked if you guys can watch some movies in his house but it had simply become background noise to your heart-to-heart talks. and what better accompaniment than the classic, chicken and beer?

you listen to him drone on and on about the little realizations he had on some of his past lectures even when you barely understood anything he's saying. doyoung's so lucky to be extremely good at something he's so passionate about, talks about the human mind and the complexity of a person's behavior will never fail to make his eyes light up in interest.

he calls out your name.

your eyes snap open.

"why don't we get you home? it's past 10 and it's alright, stupid, you don't need to pretend to be interested in my psychological findings." he chuckled light-heartedly, stealing the can of the now room-temperature beer from your hands before you can protest. 

"i wasn't dozing off, i swear."

"i caught you in the act. stop lying."

like all the other times he has you as his guest, doyoung once again offers to walk you home and you decline for the thousandth time. it really isn't that much of a long walk anyway. you don't see the need for him to go out of his way to secure your safety. plus, you were the one who insisted on hanging out in his house anyway. you weren't that thick-skinned to let him take you home, too.

"you're drunk!" he scolds.

“no, i’m not. i can perfectly handle myself."

"but —"

"bye!" 

you feel a little guilty for shutting the door in his face. still, a minute longer of his persistence and you would've taken his offer. unfortunately for doyoung, you are one stubborn girl. only if you don't make brisk movements with your head, then you won't see doubles. you'll be fine, it's just a quick walk and it's not as if you're stupid enough to pass by deserted alleys. 

but you had underestimated the divine prowess of your fucked up fate.

everything happened in a matter of three seconds; one, the blinding headlights illuminate your path from behind; two, you hear the loud honk, and as you turn around — three, the vehicle sends you rolling against the asphalt.

you should have taken the alleyways.

for his second act;

he alters your reality.

when you open your eyes, you thought you were dead and your spirit is wandering elsewhere — because you don't believe in trivial things like heaven and god — until an agitated doyoung comes into view. for a split second, you thought, is he dead, too?

"i'm not dead, you idiot." too dazed, you hardly register his anger. "i can perfectly handle myself, she said. i'm not drunk, she said. this wouldn't have happened if you had simply let me walk you home! you're damn fucking lucky you're alive and breathing right now!"

a person clears their throat.

"i don't think it wise to… nag at the patient the moment she wakes. don't you agree, sir?"

pink splotches on doyoung's cheek as he looks down, embarrassed at getting scolded as he stands closer to your bed. "i'm sorry, doc."

you didn't know when your vision cleared or when you started hearing normally again, but it was enough to find out what exactly had transpired on the very night of your tragic accident. a hit and run. fifty-fifty chance of surviving. doyoung getting a call from the hospital in the middle of the night —"they were trying to contact your dad, but he wasn't answering. i was the last person in your call history." 

six months in a coma. but today, you wake… only to find out your world has crashed and burned.

"what do you mean i lost my scholarship?"

"baby, listen to me —"

"why did they take it away? is it because of my accident? i'm behind by one term only and i swear i can catch up. they need to let me back in the program. there must've been some mistake —"

"your gpa didn't reach the cut-off grade."

that can't be possible.

"but you tutored me!" you claim with conviction, pointing an accusatory finger at him until you groan, bowing in pain as you clutch your head.

doyoung springs into action. the chair's legs screech against the tiles as he jumps to your aid, ushering you gently back against the hospital bed despite your refusal. "you're not well. lay back down, please."

you don't hear a single word he says, not when you had lost something so crucial. "i put in the effort and learned everything you taught me... i aced those fucking mid-terms! i know i did!" you were on the brink of tearing up as doyoung settled himself in front of you.

"i… i actually saw your papers," his lips set in a thin, hard-line. "everything was all wrong, sweetheart. what happened to you? i tried reasoning with the professors, mentioned your state — you know, with your best friend dying — but they didn't relent. i'm sorry y/n. i'm so —"

gone. everything is gone. the money. the dorm. what if they ask you to pay the fees from last year? what if they ask you to pay the tuition fee for this year? you have no money, no family, no relatives. no one to help. who's even going to pay for the hospital fees?

you weren't able to process anything after that. not with the sudden news of your now revoked scholarship. doyoung pulls you in a tight hug. "i was a bad tutor," he says, snapping you out of it. "maybe i shouldn't have pushed you that hard to learn them. why were your answers even mixed up y/n? i thought you knew those topics already…"

he pulls away, observing your confused state as your eyes dart everywhere in the room. "what — how are they mixed up? i know i got them right. there has to be some mistake. you taught me those topics, remember?"

"i did... "he averts his gaze. "but i don't remember teaching them to you mixed up, darling. i think you did that all on your own."

"but… why would i mix up my answers? that's —"

"see, what i mean?" he cuts you off, raising a hand to give your cheek the most delicate caress. "you're not well, baby. you need to be treated, especially with how much you hit your head during the accident. don't worry, i'm here. we'll try asking if you can stay in the dorms at least until you find another place —"

"am i a charity case to you?"

oh, the surprise on the junior's face when you push him away as you pin him with a hard stare. you just don't get it. why is kim doyoung so adamant about helping you? in becoming your hero, even when you never asked him to be? if you let him help you this time around, that'll be the 3rd time he came to save your ass. it's not as if you're ungrateful. simply, you've had enough of his help. you don't know how a person like you, who literally has nothing, can return the favor to someone like doyoung.

"what are you saying —"

"i'm saying…" you fix him a hard stare. "you helping me out doesn't even benefit you in the slightest. so why do you do it?"

he pauses, staring at you with hesitance in his eyes as this seems to be the very first time you've truly seen him speechless. when doyoung opens his mouth, he mumbles, and you hardly make sense of what he said. 

"do you really want to know why?" 

you urge him on with an arched eyebrow, his softened tone creeping into your heart. 

"you're someone special to me y/n. i don't know how or when i admitted it to myself, but you are, and it hurts me to see how shitty your luck is," he cracks a small grin, slowly settling back onto the hospital bed as he grabs your hand. "it's okay to seek help from others. it isn't a sign of vulnerability or weakness. i help you because i want to, and i'm more than willing to take care of you. will you let me?"

you're not blind. you've noticed the way he had slowly started coming closer as he continued to speak, hands held securely in his as he looked straight at your eyes then down at your lips. and so, you act in a way you know that will surely answer his question — with a kiss. 

the man before you immediately reciprocates, overpowering your own eagerness as he curls the tips of his fingers into the roots of your hair. he pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. you can taste his desperation in the way his tongue dances against yours, the kiss transporting you into an alternate reality where your world revolves around doyoung and doyoung alone. 

when he pulls away bleary-eyed, both of you ignore the thin strand of saliva connecting your lips. "how about you come live with me for the time being, my love?"

still high off his kiss and natural scent, you hardly mull over the question he asks you. "okay."

days later, after you've been discharged (he wanted to chip in for your hospital bills but you had given him a firm no), doyoung had been the one to show up at the dorm to collect all your things after leaving you in his apartment. the cutie had refused to simply drop you off and had deliberately accompanied you up the elevator, through the halls, and finally into his apartment. 

"i'll be out for just a minute, sugarcube."

"oh, can you get take out?"

doyoung had smiled, playfully booping the tip of your nose. "no, because i'll be cooking for us tonight as a little celebration for you getting discharged. you'll love it; i'm making your favorite!"

it was funny how the night had been nothing but utter bliss. the foreign feeling of being taken care of sprouting in your chest as you watch him cooking from behind the counter. it felt… nice. but funny enough, as if doing a 360, you both had immediately gotten into an argument the next day. 

"i don't see the need for skipping another day if i feel perfectly fine! i'll figure something out once we get there, doyoung, so can we just —"

"you' re not fine, babylove — hell, you got discharged yesterday! i'm not just about to let you back into the arena with those students. they've only grown more immature since your coma, love. i seriously don't want you near them."

"fine! then i won't talk to them. simple." you throw your hands up. "there. problem solved. now, can we please just go to uni? i need to talk to the dean and the head of student affairs, too —"

"i'm going to uni, not you."

maybe it had been the way he firmly stated his claim, the way his eyes pierced through your soul as if daring you to argue further with him that made you snap.

"i'm not a prisoner in this apartment, doyoung! don't treat me like i have the plague! i'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself — jesus christ, i've been doing it nearly half my fucking life!"

too caught up in your anger, you've failed to notice the tears pouring down his face as he sets his gaze on the floor. 

"you're right," his voice cracks. "i shouldn't be pushy like that. i'm sorry. you just mean so much to me and i'm so scared of losing you again. with your coma — i just — it's like i was fighting a losing battle each day that passed when i saw you in that hospital bed. i've never felt so scared in my whole life and i hated myself for not being able to protect you that night."

his tears run like waterfalls, and when you step forward with your arms wide open, doyoung sobs harder as he pulls you against him. you hardly comprehend what he says as he spoke, shaking against your frail body as you felt his tears stain your blouse. "i'm sorry, i never should've dictated what you felt — i'm so sorry."

"no, it's okay. i was feeling a little lightheaded, anyway. i'll stay here and i can come back to school next semester, right? doyoung? just… please stop crying."

he lifts his head, staring at you with bloodshot eyes before giving your forehead a kiss. you let a relieved sigh escape your lips, melting into his warmth as you prop your chin on his shoulder. if you had only been more attentive, you would've seen the reflection of his wicked grin on the tabletops. too easy.

living with him became a blur after that incident. everything fell into a routine for the next four days as you spent the day watching netflix, eating, reading, sleeping. nothing felt fun anymore. but your peaceful life had ceased during the fifth night — the whispers, they woke you up. you can hear them from behind your door at night, and when you rouse awake, you see doyoung walking around the hallway from the tiny gap at the bottom of the door. you had sighed, falling back into your plush bed as you pray to god, he keeps it down. 

but what he told you the next day rendered you speechless. "me, walking around the hallways? whispers?" he says, confused. "i was already asleep, love. knocked out cold the moment my body fell on the bed."

"but…"

he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes his sweet time skimming through his notes on the dining table, coffee in one hand. "maybe it's just the meds kicking in."

"no, surely it was real! i literally woke up in the middle of the night," you repeat. "it's okay if it was you, doyoung. i'm not mad."

he sets his coffee mug down a little too loud. 

"well, you can't be mad at me, sugar, because like i said — it wasn't me," it doesn't take a genius to notice he's awfully cranky today. you observe him, dark half-moons under his eyes as he relentlessly reads his notes with instant coffee in one hand. 

"you're just imagining things, okay? stop acting crazy."

for some reason, the way he had uttered certain words like 'imagining' and 'crazy' made you curl into your seat in embarrassment. he was right that your doctor did prescribe a generous amount of pills per day, but his tone made it feel off, made you feel like there was something wrong with you even when there wasn't… 

right?

you didn't say a word after that and had hesitantly pecked him on the cheek before he left for school. with the amount of time you're with him, two things stood out to you — his keen sense of observation and his knack for reading people. you highly doubt he didn't notice a shift in your behavior but a part of you thinks it's just the stress talking. he is about to take his finals and had recently started on his research paper. 

every psych student is required to present a paper in accordance with the department's annual theme. it could be anything from proposing a theory (if you dare) to constructing a well-developed psychology model. if you don't turn one in, you don't graduate — the paper's that important, and you've been bugging him for so long about sneaking a peek on what his study is about. but he always refused. 

the next week came rolling around, and both of you had been spending every day together due to the semestral break. the arguments have significantly lessened, but your episodes — eventually, you started calling it that way because that's how doyoung labels it — have only gotten worse. you end up moving out of the guest room and into his. privacy be damned. the whispers stopped momentarily but what came next became your imminent downfall.

the first time you heard it, you thought you were dreaming. but the doorknob kept rattling aggressively even as you sat up. just as you climb off the bed, your half-asleep boyfriend asks where you're going. 

"bathroom," you lied.

you were always the one to snort when it comes to the supernatural, claiming it's all bullshit. yet, as whatever outside continues to fight its way inside the room, the rattling progressing into loud bangs against the door, you're not so sure of your beliefs anymore. you're not crazy. nothing is wrong with you, and you're perfectly fine. this apartment is cursed, and you are going to prove that to doyoung.

grabbing your phone from the bedside table, you turn the flash on, pointing the camera at the door as you take a footage of the mad entity that has been playing games with you. a squeal escapes your lips when a particular bang! reverberates louder in the room than all the others. the phone slips your hand, falling onto the floorboards. you don't bother to retrieve it as you scramble to get yourself back under the blanket and into doyoung's comfortable warmth.

you snuggle yourself plush against his chest, shaking as you wrap your arms around his waist, inhaling his natural scent to anchor you back. 

bang! bang! bang!

you didn't get a wink of sleep last night.

"can't the video wait? there's a new episode of start-up, and i want to watch it already!" he whines, shoving his face further on the throw pillow situated on your lap.

you giggle, shaking your head as you scroll through your gallery to find the video. i'm not imagining things. i'm not hallucinating. i'm not crazy. "here! watch... i'm telling you this apartment is haunted, and the ghost probably likes you, which is why it doesn't bother you —"

your lighthearted rambling cuts off when you notice no sound emitting from your phone. weird. you could've sworn you started recording right when the loud banging has already started. your heart drops upon the wary stare doyoung shoots you before he continues to watch the video. 

no, no, no, no — please!

you quickly scoot over to his side, watching as the video unfolds before your very eyes. the shot was messy as the phone was handheld, not to mention you were panicking at the time. but the video is silent. not a single noise of a rattling doorknob or banging on the door can be heard through your phone's speakers. 

"maybe — maybe you didn't turn the volume up?"

you hardly contain the mortification in your face when you realize the volume's at 100 already. and as if on cue, your squeal is heard in the video and the noise of the phone hitting the floor.

doyoung's silence shakes your whole being. as you kneel before him teary-eyed, your voice breaks. "i swear, i'm not crazy."

but at this point, you don't believe yourself anymore.

for his third and final act;

he triumphs.

his deprivation began in minuscule ripples. 

it didn't take much effort on doyoung's end to convince you to stop studying for a year or two, at least, only until your hallucinations aren't as severe anymore. everyday felt like hell on earth as the fine line between what's real and what isn't has blurred over one too many times. in sheer paranoia of accidentally hurting him in his sleep, you moved out of his bedroom and had started sleeping in the guest room again — much to doyoung's frustration. 

but he's a smart man, one that recognizes an opportunity amidst the hurdles thrown on his path.

"why does my door need a lock outside again?"

he approaches you, who’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, after screwing in the last of the screws that came with the new doorknob. doyoung is familiar with the look written on your face, has observed and studied you enough to navigate his way inside your pretty little head with ease.

he can't have you doubting him, can he?

"you know i'm all about protecting you, right?" he starts. you nodded. "i've been doing it for a year now, and i will continue to do so until you need me to. the world is a bad place, sweetheart, remember? your own best friend's mother tried framing you. your dad disowned you. you've been ostracized in the whole college... do you think i'm just like the rest of them, baby?"

doyoung has already mastered the perfect expression of a kicked-puppy, one that easily pulls at your heartstrings and has you cooing at him.

"no!" you say with conviction, reaching forward to thread your fingers through his. "i know you're different, not like any of them at all. i know you're only doing what's… best for me."

he ignores the underlying hesitance in your tone. that will be corrected, sooner or later.

doyoung tightens his hold as he kisses the back of your hand. such an innocent gesture — but such ill intentions.

"the outside lock helps me in protecting you, love. you don't need to worry about anything. just focus on getting better, alright? i'll keep the bad guys away from you."

it was during his first semester of senior year, a few months back, doyoung and a good few students of his batch had been granted the opportunity to intern for a mental hospital located near the edge of the city. he was supposed to decline the offer but you convinced him to take the spot. it had only been a two-week “job” yet it was enough for doyoung to conclude — he’d rather kill you than subject you to the horrors of what the patients have to go through in the loony bin. 

eventually, the small ripples shift into unforgiving waves, dragging you into the depths as everything comes crashing down before your very own eyes.

it should have been like any other day inside the apartment. doyoung's already gone in the morning to attend classes. though not before setting a tray of your brunch on the nightstand, making sure to lock your door on his way out. he knew your nightmares and anxiety kept you up at night, resulting in longer hours of sleep during the day. 

turns out, you moving out of his bedroom had been a blessing in disguise. coming home to an empty apartment has become his biggest fear yet, and you unconsciously found a solution for him. one that doesn’t have him fidgeting on his seat as he counts down the minutes ‘til he’s back by your side.

doyoung smiles unconsciously as he listens to his professor drone on and on in front of him — his mind at peace, knowing you're safe and sound in your little prison.

until he received a text that made his blood run cold.

ty, 11:34 am —im done.

meanwhile, you rouse awake once more to thunderous poundings against your bedroom door. oh no, you thought. it's happening again. this time, there'll be no doyoung barging into your room, half-asleep and hair messy, as he tries to calm you down. you throw the blankets over you as you sob, hugging your legs against your chest as you try to 'wake yourself up' from the hallucination.

the person outside calls for your name, the desperation in their tone alighting a new-found fear in your heart. you don't know what's real anymore. is this truly happening, or is it another hallucination your fucked up mind has conjured up?

"please! it's taeyong! y/n, can you hear me?"

taeyong?

slowly, your head peaks above the blanket, warily staring at the door. doyoung has warned you about these kinds of things, has practically ingrained in your mind that whoever comes looking for you will take you away from him. not to mention, doyoung slipped one time and said he isn’t friends with taeyong anymore.

the banging on the door progresses.

“are you in there? answer me! i can’t find the key!”

you don’t say anything, merely pushing the covers off your body as you keep your eyes fixed on the beating door. it looks like it’s about to pop out its hinges as taeyong relentlessly fights his way inside your room. what are you going to do? do you open the door? oh. right. you can’t do that on your own accord. the key is with doyoung and he isn’t in the apartment at the moment.

all your thoughts come to a halt when the boy outside sends the door flying open, finally breaking the lock with one powerful kick. you flinch back, his actions pushing you on your feet, wanting to place a maximum amount of distance from the intruder. 

taeyong looks frantic, disheveled as he immediately notices your alarmed state. he approaches you cautiously, hands up to show his empty palms. “hey, hey… it’s just me, y/n. i’m not going to hurt you. i’m not the enemy here.”

“doyoung doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

the look of surprise on his face is an answer in itself. for someone doyoung had proudly claimed to have “broken” you’re still quite quick to catch up on things, taeyong observed. and he doesn’t know what to feel about it — pity? guilt?

“that’s not important!” he claims, boldly surging forward to grasp your shoulders with a firm grip. taeyong felt his heart dropping when you flinch under his grasp. 

“listen to me. we need to get you out of here. doyoung isn’t — he isn’t everything you thought he is!” he can’t help but raise his voice, panic surging through him because there’s not much time left and you aren’t exactly cooperating. you’ve been trying to shrug off his hold the whole time. 

“do you think he actually loves you?”

“he does! stop saying bullshit!”

“doyoung never loved anyone and you want to know why? because he’s too in love with his research to care for anything else!” taeyong felt bad to have been so direct, especially when he sees the tears now falling freely down your cheeks. “listen to me, y/n! i’m not the enemy! if there’s anyone you should be pushing away, it’s doyoung! he turned you into his lab rat! you are nothing but a variable in his study! don’t you get it?”

taeyong grabs a firm but gentle hold of your head, trying to make you look at him straight in the eye for the gravity of what he’s about to say to you.

“doyoung had his eye on you since sophomore year. i told him this was a bad idea and that he should change the topic of the research and he was. fucking hell, he was about to scrap the whole thing until your bestfriend died and did you know what that psycho told me? that it was a sign for him to continue the research! and i’ve been pestering him so much that he moved out because he claimed i was going to get in the way of his discovery.

tell you what, if you can tell me right here, right now, that he has mentioned anything — anything at all — about his study to you then everything i’m saying is a lie.”

you have asked doyoung for the longest time about that research but the answers have always been the same. “not yet, my love. it’s not time for it to be seen with your eyes. soon, okay?”

with a voice not louder than a whisper, you ask. “what… what’s his research about?”

you fail to see the sorry look on taeyong’s face. “in psychology, they say a person only develops psychosis mainly through genetics or drugs. although you’re technically already a worthy “lab rat” considering your mom and upbringing, he wanted to expand the external factors of what causes the disorder — grief, grades, toxic family relations…”

you hear a ringing in your ear and a sudden urge to throw up. only, you didn’t have anything to hurl because your brunch remains untouched on your bedside. 

“but he hadn’t been successful. and that’s… that’s where i came along. doyoung thought the medications he’s been giving you isn’t doing what he wanted it to and he knew he needed a little push. i was… i gave him that push. remember the whispers, the banging on the door at night? it was all me. he made me do it. you know what that means, right? you’re not crazy. you don’t need to stay here cooped up like some kind of pet, believing all his lies as if it’s written in a fucking bible —”

he stops. and if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t’ve heard the familiar beeps of the front door’s automated lock going off. doyoung’s home. 

in lightning speed, taeyong has you sheltered behind him, throwing his warm coat over you in the process, hoping to give the smallest comfort amidst the chaos that’s about to erupt. there’s no point in pretending or hiding — one look at that lock and his crazy friend would know something’s off. 

taeyong feels you flinching behind him with every heavy footstep against the floorboards as doyoung wastes no time in getting to your room. and when he finally appears, hands braced against the door frame, you’ve never been this scared your whole life. his eyes are drawn into slits, fixated on taeyong alone. “how fucking dare you?”

“it’s over, doyoung. give it up or you wouldn’t have to suffer a longer sentence than you’ll already get.” taeyong tried with his whole being to appear intimidating.

“what’re you saying, yong? i meant, how fucking dare you barge in here and disturb my girlfriend in her sleep? that’s not very nice of you…” doyoung sports a disarming gummy smile as he approaches, hand outstretched and beckoning towards you. “c’mere, baby. i don’t think you’ve eaten lunch yet?”

“drop the fucking act, you psycho!”

“what act?” doyoung tilts his head innocently, gaze shifting from taeyong’s and yours, who keeps peeking from over his ex-friend’s shoulder. luring you out is a piece of cake unless taeyong decides to make things a wee bit more complicated, doyoung thought. “i’m just concerned for my darl —”

“we’re leaving.” taeyong cuts him off, breaking eye contact as he places a firm grip around your wrist. he pulls you towards him, farther away from your supposed lover as he tries walking past doyoung. 

but the said man pushes taeyong back with a humorless smile on his face. “and who told you that you can do that?”

a pregnant silence befalls the room as the two men size each other up. they regard each other with such hostility, you can't help but unconsciously fist the back of taeyong's sweater in nervousness, prompting the man to turn his head over his shoulder for a swift second to check up on you.

but a second is all that doyoung needed to deliver the first kick towards taeyong's legs, throwing him off his balance. if it was one thing doyoung knew, is that he needed to eliminate taeyong's agility all together if he wants to win against him. 

but taeyong isn't one to back down. the moment doyoung straddles him on the floor, with a fist raised to throw a punch, taeyong grunts as he rolls them around. doyoung now receiving taeyong's rain of fists as he yells. "fuck you! you manipulative asshole!"

you sat on the corner, horrified of the scene happening before you. you've never seen doyoung this way. he has always been your sweet, caring bunny, but after everything taeyong said, you aren't so sure you even know the man you've been living with. 

"everything i did, i did it for her!" you flinch at the sound of bones breaking as doyoung kicked taeyong's ribs. "she had nothing to lose! i saved her!"

the door is open, you noticed. wide-open and inviting you to make a run for it. and you would have made a run for it...  but taeyong. you can't leave him behind, not when he lays there bloody and grunting in pain as doyoung lets his anger take over him. so, as stupid as may be, you did it. you had to.

"you didn't save me," you say, schooling your face into indifference as doyoung whips around, forgetting about taeyong in the bat of an eye. "you caged me in here, treated me like there's something wrong with me, gaslighted me into believing everything you said! and... what did you say? 'saved me'? you made me go through hell!"

the whole time, taeyong tries his hardest to stand upright, but his broken ribs don't allow him to. the pain too great that he had no choice but to crawl instead, arms pulling his weight as he drags himself across the floorboards, desperately trying to get doyoung's attention back on him even if it meant getting beaten to death.

meanwhile, he had his eyes trained on you the whole time you spoke, sobbing as you walk backward in fear as doyoung approached you with a dark glint in his eye. he doesn't like what you're saying; that much is very clear. he wanted to yell at you, to scream of your ungratefulness despite his constant care but instead, he says.

"i thought we were making progress, baby. i guess i have to drill everything in your brain again. you're not okay, but you will be after i treat you."

you try to fight the urge to look at taeyong as he finds his strength, silently rising up from the floor to ambush doyoung while he's so busy preaching about you. 

"what i said is true, baby. do you actually think this scum over here is doing this to save you? do you actually believe everything he said? i've been here since day-1, my love. literally. and have i ever let you down? no. everything i'm doing is for us. even this damned research!"

taeyong surges forward to put him in a chokehold, but everything happened so fast, and the next thing you knew —

"did you actually think i'd fall for that?"

you didn't know the sound of a knife cutting through flesh could sound that loud, but nothing could beat the strained gasp that tumbled through taeyong's lips as he shakily held the knife pierced through his heart. you would've been concerned about how doyoung got it so accurate in one go or where the knife even came from. but you were too busy screaming, collapsing against the wall as you let out a broken sob. 

"no," you mutter. "no, no, no..."

you can't bear to avert your eyes from taeyong as he lies dying before you. the look of fear in his eyes would forever be ingrained in your mind, and no amount of brainwashing or gaslighting would ever make you forget.

doyoung killed him. you lost.

the knife clatters loudly on the floor as he slowly turns around as if he himself has yet to register what he did. you didn't know what to expect from doyoung's reaction but certainly not the eerie smile that starts spreading on his face. 

"now... how about that lunch, baby?"

✉ : a repost no one asked but i respectfully dont give a fuck <3

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Hey, I recently found your blog and I love your writing! Is it okay if I ask for some headcanons of Daughter of Hephaestus!MC from that one L&L/PJO crossover post? I know that it was it’s an older post.

OF COURSE, IT IS. Old posts or not, I definitely have ideas. I am super pumped people like my writing. Like… it super motivates me to keep going.

Alright, given that this is about a specific MC, I’m naming her… *looks up Greek Heroes* Atlanta. Atlanta Copperfield. As well, we’re going to have some general headcanons before going into the other ones.

LONG ASS POST

General

Atlanta fought in both wars. She’s not the best smith of the cabin or anything, but she was really good with armor and weapons. 

All Hephaestus kids have a Spark that lets them build amazing things. It’s part of their gift from their dad.

Has one of those enchanted belts you can put anything in

Is wicked strong. Like scary, scary strong.

Is semi-immune to fire- not like Leo but can withstand very high temps.

Has a lot of scars from the battles and has a hard time being anything but a fighter.

Left camp due to her PTSD and hatred of herself as she did have to kill siblings during the war. 

May or may not secretly hate the Gods.

Does love her dad but in a very distant way. 

Her mother died protecting her from a monster when she was six. She really hates Hyrdas. 

Witch Queen spell went wonky and the soul latched onto baby Atlanta. Her body changed to match the WQ appearance but no one really notices because God Genes are WEIRD. Seriously- her sister has purple hair. It’s weird.

Atlanta fully accepts she’s in a whole new world because she is used to weird shit.

Reiner

Reiner shows Atlanta around and she just freaks about the not so great armor some of the guards are wearing. Insists on making new ones for them. He shows her to the smithery.

Atlanta becomes a huge help in the castle. Reiner finds himself often sitting with her in the evenings as she designs things. The two build a strong friendship this way.

Thing is the generals don’t realize she looks like the WQ for a while. Mostly cause Atlanta isn’t thin and with long hair hanging down. She’s quite muscular and has her hair in a bun or a ponytail like 99% of the time.

They only figure it out when Atlanta lets her hair down while going for a walk with Reiner in the village, who all now know Atlanta isn’t the WQ cause she’s so nice and builds stuff for them.

Everyone ships her and Reiner. It’s adorable.

Demigods have super quick relationships because most die by like thirty so she is down for a wedding. Yep, oooh, can she make armor for them as their wedding outfits?

Atlanta being semiposessed by the WQ is really fucking scary cause of her demigod blood making her more sturdy and her Spark.

Now, it turns out the Gods are watching and when she gets possessed also get worried because even they feel the WQ is a big fucking deal. Soooooooo… they come to that world. 

Yep, Gods appear in Reiner’s castle and don’t care they see them. (Zeus may actually like the fact they believe)

Atlanta loses her Spark to protect it from the WQ until she is either free or dead. Atlanta as well goes into a heavy depression and is very much a zombie during this time because a Spark is part of her soul.

Reiner is literally the only thing keeping her from giving in.

(Wow this is getting long) Being free gives her Spark back and she throws herself into building weapons and armor. It actually takes Solaire yelling at her to have her realize that Oh shit, Reiner is not acting like himself because she was in a giant fog of working.

Big fight with her and Reiner. Both are really bad at acting like adults with their work because he was worrying over her thanks to Ryland and she was worrying over him…

Atlanta is fucking scary with a shield. She is very strong and can even knock down a wall thanks to a strange metal that appeared in her belt one day. She thinks it might be an apology from her dad…

She totally takes him to Camp while in her original world before they leave. Sophie comes to now that she remembers. Chiron likes him and with his help they create a stable portal.

Her siblings approve.They do make them recite a blessing for Hera and jump over a fire but that’s it. They’re married.

Atlanta makes him a crossbow that is enchanted to shoot fire or ice arrows. 

August

August totally thinks she’s the WQ for five minutes and then she starts ranting about his sword.

Nope, no longer WQ, now she is a sword buddy. They get along fantastic after that.

Atlanta doesn’t run off beginning season2, instead, she stays because running off would be stupid. 

Atlanta dislikes sword fighting. She’s good at it and likes swords but she’s wicked strong so she likes to try and have her fighting resemble that. 

She ends up making a wicked heavy sword that lets her smash all she wants. August is appauled.

“Look, I used to ride a pegasus. Horses do not have wings. That is why i suck at this.” “No, you are simply bad at it because you are to stiff-” “I RODE A FLYING HORSE. OF COURSE I AM STIFF.”

August’s mom loves her when she ends up like fixing everything in their inn because her hands just won’t stop. Asta is like “Marry that woman.” August blushes.

The Gods come to yell when they’re in council. Apparently this is her quest and she must defeat the WQ because *some reason*. Her Spark is removed for a year as punishment for letting her gain a body.

It’s awful. August is terrified for her, she’s a zombie. He prays to the Gods, begging. Eventually Hep is like: fuck this and gives her back her Spark early. Just in time for battle.

Atlanta brings Sophie to the Camp. They all pitch in but still Sophie has to stay for now. She hates it but now knows other magic people!!

Atlanta also brings back necter and stuff but still ends up cursed in the end. 

August Dad is eh about her. Heard rumors but didn’t believe until she lifted a tree off him and did some pretty cool stuff.

Also again, let her at the broken stuff. She’s good at it.

When August’s sword breaks she offers to make a new one but like… for some reason she can never make the right one. it’s super frustrating for the both of them and she is wicked upset about it. And then they meet Aisetha.

“I could make a better sword.” “No you cannot.” “I’m making one that talks to.”

Aisetha does let Atlanta make the armor to it’s wishes but it does look badass so fine.

These two fuckin hate each other, it’s the best.

The wedding has traditional vows and Chiron, as well as a bunch of siblings, come through a portal to party.

Saerys

Saerys does not think this girl is the WQ. It’s obvious she uses physical strength and the WQ is pure magic.

Atlanta does not go to his room in the beginning- she knows this shit is real. But she and Saerys bond over being really strong and soon they end up having contests with picking shit up.

Atlanta picked up Saerys who was picking up Reiner once. 

Atlanta fixes everything still. Also builds random shit everywhere. Eventually, she has to stay with Saerys in his room cause Ryland and Solaire get annoyed when she takes stuff apart.

She can’t help it. Literally. She actually confesses she’s a demigod to Saerys because she feels alone here without any siblings. She may have left camp but she had called them. 

Saerys gets being alone.

Atlanta ends up dropkicking Lennox out of town after she gives everyone a speech about his armor and how they’re all idiots for not realizing it was WQ general armor.

Atlanta isn’t affected by Saery’s heat or strength in Turbo Mode and can hold him down. 

Dying at the hand of the Witch Queen but being brought back removes half of her Spark. She has a harder time making things and thinking. Saerys is there to help though.

Saerys and Atlanta spar a lot.

Chicago also brings them to find the camp and Saerys realizes they will be in danger no matter where. 

The demon gods team up with the Greek Gods to bring Saerys back to life and restore the full of Atlanta’s soul. This also reveals that Atlanta is a demigod to everyone.

Atlanta’s Spark is twisted a little and talks now to her, urging her to create and build weapons. Like messed up weapons of mass destruction.

Saerys and Atlanta struggle a lot with the demon souls possessing Saerys- it’s hard to control them when you also have a nutjob Spark yelling to build things.

At least the stupid Souls like her now, thanks to the Spark giving them ideas.

They warn the Camps about the WQ maybe invading and they get ready.

Atlanta whispers a wedding blessing when they pass each other the rings because they’re already married demon style. Let’s do it demigod.

Altea

Okay, like Saerys she figures that Atlanta is not WQ quick thanks to Atlanta being shit with any magic that is not building things.

Atlanta is given scrap metal because of her need to build things. She doesn’t realize she’s making jewlery with one person in mind until she makes a pretty pair of pink earing and oh.

Atlanta’s crush on tiny Altea is hilarious. Everyone does given Atlanta is the type to give pretty things to her object of affection. Altea is very happy.

Only once did Altea ever agree to be picked up by Atlanta in battle. Never again. Very undignified!

“But fun.” “Stop it my raven.”

Altea meets her family in Chicago and they figure that Iris Messaging still works in the other world afterwards so they chat a lot.

Atlanta’s demigod status is revealed to Altea in Chicago and the two worship Hep and like Athena and stuff but it’s revealed to everyone when Hep comes to give her this special metal so she can make a sword for herself to fight the witch queen.

Atlea compares the Spark to Magic.

Meeting Mireille and finding out Altea’s a princess makes Atlanta feel scruffy. Sure, she’s a demigod but… princess. She’s just a smith.

Altea makes sure she doesn’t feel that way for long. 

Atlanta makes a ring for Altea as a proposal thing. She loves it.

seeing her go fully Magical Girl Mode makes Atlanta fall for her all over again.

Meeting her family is hard, given she is very much a smith, but they do warm up. They also Iris Message some friends so that the Queen and King realize they’re telling the truth about Atlanta being from another world and the demigod stuff.

Lional now wants to learn to smith. Atlanta just wants him to stop poking at the fire.

Iseul

Okay, Iseul does not think she’s the WQ because she doesn’t have the right feel.

Atlanta may have punched him once in annoyance.

they may end up in a fight a few times. They just irritate each other to much.

Their first kiss is during a fight. Everyone was betting on it.

Atlanta’s Spark goes into haywire at seeing the bow Iseul has because she has SO MANY IDEAS

Iseul loves it. Every bit. He is always bragging about this girl to everyone in the village when she goes to get fun stuff to play with.

Imohn ends up liking her when she comes up with an arrow that when fired goes into a dragon made out of fire.

atlanta and Iseul are the worst together. Seriously. No, do not… Atlanta, do not make that! Iseul says it’s okay! NO!

The whole demigod thing comes out when the Gods come during a council meeting to yell at Atlanta for letting the WQ out. She points out she did not know what would happen and no one said this was a quest.

Zeus is not pleased but she lives. Barely. Her Spark is taken from her and she falls into a deep depression.

Iseul is struggling to help her and get his mother to accept her. It all really goes to shit when Ishara ends up in a coma without accepting Atlanta.

Atlanta manages to fight through the depression and help Iseul. They wake up Ishara who accepts her. She also gets her Spark back because that was a lesson she had to learn.

 “It was a fucking shitty lesson.”

Chicago is nuts. “How on earth… you were supposed to be created only a few years ago!” “Go bug Chiron for that… or maybe like Hecate or something.” Camp is a nightmare.

Magnus is horrified the rumors of her being a demigod are true. Ha, fuck you buddy.

“I’m pregnant!!! OH! I HAVE IDEAS FOR THE NURSERY!!!” “NO ATLANTA!” “YES MY LOVE!”

Just these two idiots are awful.

[delicrieux]

dungeons & witches [ richie tozier x reader ] pt.1

summary: (name) is rumored to be a witch and richie want’s to find out the truth. he also has this dorky crush oml

words: 1 910

a/n: this is written for @superwolfiestar ‘s “Beauty and the Beast Halloween prompt challenge”! this is day 8 and prompt witch. Also, I used @horrificmemes  31 Horrific Days v2 [October Writing Challenge] ! same day, prompt basement. i just love the movie IT so much i can’t--

PART 2.

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MASTERLIST.

All of Derry middle school knew who (Name) (Lastname) is…Or, at the very least, the rumors about her. The said girl spent most of her time in solitude, hardly looking up from her books, but it was said that when she did decide to gaze at the general audience that always seemed to be surrounding her, her eyes would shine like small diamonds in a kaleidoscope of colors, and whose ever eyes she met would turn to stone. (Latsname) had a few friends that always tagged along, but they too bit into the rumors and avoided her gaze. There was even gossip, one time a year back, that she had charmed her friends and that’s why they never left her side. Even Greta did not dare to look at her directly. Carrying around old books in complex writings did not help to clear her name, either.  Everyone just assumed that they were filled with spells and curses, when in reality…It was only Estonian since you’re only partly American.

October is quick to approach, and so is the weeks’ worth of vacation kids have to celebrate Halloween and catch a break from studies. As you walk out the stuffy school corridors into the windy, bleak day, you hug your books closer to your body as if that would keep you warmer. You frown softly. Stacy and Gwenda, your two best pal’s, have been at it all morning about how should you all spend the first free day of Fall. Your plans were mostly to brush up on your studies, but you know that will be impossible to do – the girls are too persistent to leave you alone. Perhaps you really have charmed them, by accident, you’re not a witch and do not fully understand the concept of what a witch is supposed to be, but so many people have insisted on you being one that you stopped questioning it all together.

“Last one to Eds has to kiss him mom!” A familiar voice shouts, and soon you see the boy himself getting on his bike as the rest of his friends hurriedly follow. Eddie, you believe his name is, yells something back in return, something frustrated but you hardly hear it as Gwenda and Stacy continue to argue, one standing on either side of you. It happens in a split second: Richie, you know him since you sit in front of him in science class, glances your way and your eyes meet. Directly. You can obviously see the shock and fear morph his face, but all you do is smile sweetly at him. He looks away quick enough to give him whiplash and nearly tumbles from his bike.

“You okay, Richie?” Stan inquires. Another classmate. The rest of their conversation is lost as they ride away.

~*~

“You don’t believe me?” Richie complains once they finally reach Eddie’s house. The three boys share a look, putting their bikes away. Eddie fixes his gloves, then his scarf, and lastly he pulls on the flaps of his cap so it would hide his ears completely. Bill simply shrugs. Stan has the urge to roll his eyes and tell their glasses wearing friend to shut the hell up, but refrains. Richie frowns, “Some friends you are. Wussies. Beverly would believe me.”

“N-N-Not e-even Ben w-would believe you, R-Richie.” Bill stutters. Walking to the front door, Richie shakes his head.

“I’m telling you, guys! I’m fucking telling you! I looked directly into them…Directly into her eyes! And I’m fine!” He grins, wildly, “I must be immune or something…” He adds quieter with a note of awe in his voice.

“Richie.” Stan starts, “Dude…You do realize (Lastname) isn’t actually a witch, right? It’s just some stupid rumor Henry started.”

“Oh, yeah? Then how will you explain the books she carries around, hmmm? Hmmm? Or those two nutjobs that always follow her around?” Richie narrows his eyes, “I rest my case.”

Stan shrugs, “They hang around her because she’s a sweet girl. And—“

“Sweet girl?!” Richie exclaims, “No…! Stan…Stanley, don’t tell me…She got you TOO?!”

“Oh fuck off, Richie.”

~*~

It’s late in the evening when your doorbell rings cheerily. Gwenda and Stacy had left barely twenty minutes ago; did they forget something?, you wonder as you move from the couch and turn off the TV. Your grandmother, from upstairs, yells instructions in Estonian and you vaguely register that she wants you to open the door.

“Oh, hello.” You greet, a note of uncertainty in your voice as you open the door wide and find the same boy you locked eyes with today nervously staring over your shoulder. It is a bit unusual to have a guest visit so late, much less a boy!, and you feel yourself grow uneasy. You flinch from the cold as it pools past your body and into your home. Richie fixes his glasses and clears his throat, but before he can speak you say, “Would you…like to come inside?”

“Oh, sure.”

You lock the door again, just like grandmother taught you, and curiously stare at the boy that takes his hat off to reveal curls of dark brown hair. The warmth of your house is pleasant to your exposed arms – you are wearing your PJ’s and only now do you find yourself mildly-embarrassed. Riche doesn’t care, perhaps he hadn’t realized yet, but you scurry and leave him alone for a moment to grab a blanket from the couch and wrap it around your shoulders, successfully hiding your body from prying eyes. “So…” You start, “What brings you here?”

“(Lastname), be honest with me.” Richie says, “Are you…” He glances away, checking out the interior of the house: old polished wood, a fire place, lots of dark green colors and carpets to match, pictures of a baby girl on the stairwell. “Are you really a witch?”

You blink. A wicked grin pinches your cheeks and with a sharp exhale you exclaim, “Alahazam!”

Richie jerks, startled, “Hey! Not fair, warn me next time!”

Again, an old though commanding voice from upstairs speaking a different native tongue calls for your attention and you direct it away from Richie; the boy himself shrinks in mild fear as he too looks up and into the darkness that pools from       upstairs. You reply something, something foreign that he cannot understand and he gulps. Perhaps you really are a witch and that Alahazam bullshit really was some deadly spell you cast on him. And now he’s trapped. His vacation will go down the drain, naturally it already would’ve since he planned to spend it in the arcade, but now he will be stuck with you. Oh God…What if he becomes the next Gwenda and Stacy? Did you also trap them so skillfully, as you trapped him?

You give Richie a curious look, “It’s Estonian.” You explain. Richie snaps to you.

“I totally knew that.” Now he feels a bit stupid, “But you still didn’t answer me!”

“Did you turn to stone?” You question.

“No.”

“Then I’m not.”

“B-But!” You walk past him. He has no choice but to follow, “What if I’m immune, or something!”

“Then why are you complaining?” You reply with a smile, entering the kitchen and quickly maneuvering it. You hook your fingers on the handle of the white door that stands next to the fridge, open it and flick the light switch; the basement floods with dim yellow light and you look back at him, “You can wait here, if you want. I’ll just be a sec.” Richie shakes his head – no way is he staying in this house alone. He still doesn’t fully trust you or that voice from the second floor, but he will take his chances with you.

Honestly, what is he even doing here? He isn’t quite sure himself.

“They hang around her because she’s a sweet girl” Stan’s voice rings in his ear as he watches you slowly retreat into the basement; your steps creek once you walk on a loose stair. Huh. Perhaps Stan’s love confession for you was not entirely unexplainable. Okay, now he is really being stupid and risking that thing from upstairs snatching him whilst he’s daydreaming alone, so he hurries after you.

The basement is surprisingly cozy, as cozy as a basement can possibly be, that is. It’s warm here, so warm that he unzips his jacket since it starts getting hot. Dust tickles his nose. A few lamps lay in various places. Shelves stand tall and filled with trinkets and old things. Your bike sits hidden behind the couch that has a few pillows and blankets on it. His eyes shoot to the middle of the room as you make your way to the washing machines. A small table with few chairs and a game on its top sends Richie into a frenzy and he breaks into a grin, sprinting down the stairs so fast that you worry he might break his neck.

“Holy shit!” Richie says, eyeing the set-up before he looks at you by the washing bin, “You play Dungeons and Dragons?!”

With a shy smile you nod, “With my grandparents…Stacy and Gwenda don’t really like this game.”

“Damn, (Lastname), and I thought that all you had was Quiqa boards and humans organs.”

“Don’t you mean ‘Quija’ boards?” You correct him. He simply shrugs and examines the figures on the table. He frowns, softly. The campaign looks unfinished, like it was stopped in the middle of an intense battle. Dust had collected over spare days of not using it. Richie’s fingers pinch the small figure of a monster and he picks it up, inspects it in the light, “The—“

“-Demogorgon.” He finishes for you, sending a confused look your way, “Why didn’t you finish playing?”

“Oh.” The basket of clothes lays forgotten for a moment as you turn away from the washer, “Oh, uhm, my…grandmother fell sick, so…” You try to find the right words, “So we couldn’t finish it.” Richie gives you and unreadable look. He then puts the Demogorgon back.

“I’ll finish it with you.” Richie states and you blink. There is a sudden spur in your chest, one of happiness no doubt, but also of confusion and your brows twist; Richie knows you are about to question him, and he really does not want that because he isn’t sure himself. So he simply shrugs, “I’m pretty damn good at rolling dice and! And I have never lost a battle.”

“But…” You start, “It’s a bit late, so…wouldn’t your parents want you home?”

He shrugs again, completely dismissed and you realized you touched on a subject you shouldn’t have, “She won’t mind.” He says simply and sits down, “I’ll just tell her a witch put me under her spell and make a bunch of kissy faces.” He mimics a few ‘Muah muah’s and you giggle.

“They hang around her because she’s a sweet girl.”

Dear God, please please tell him that this tightness in his chest is a heart attack from eating too much sugar at Edds and not caused by some other fairly obvious reason. Also, please tell him that he and good boy Stanley won’t have to be rivals in this…Wait. Rivals in what?!

“Hey, (Lastname)?” Richie suddenly calls you. You hum, “You know Stanley Uris?”

The question catches you off guard, “Oh, uhm, well I only spoke with him a couple of times, so not really, no.”

He gives a stiff nod, “Don’t bother, then. He’s a total dick.”

end.