#June of doom 2024

[juneofdoom]

What up, whump fam?!

June of Doom 2024 Prompts!

We've brought back some old favorites/ popular prompts from last year with a healthy dash of new!

Please feel free to participate with original or fan works of any kind (writing, photos, gifs, mood boards, videos, songs, whatever creative medium your heart desires!). You can do one or all of the prompts on any given day, and if none are to your liking, check out the alternate prompts!

Two rules this year!

As with last year, tag your stuff with appropriate warnings, plzkthnx.

AI-created content is highly discouraged and frowned upon. I have no way of "checking", but I respect the time and effort people put into their crafts and encourage everyone to do the same. This isn't a contest for best written or prettiest art — it's a challenge, so challenge yourself.

[AO3 Collection] - "JUNEOFDOOM2024"

Text list below the cut for easier crossings-off. And don't forget to tag @juneofdoom so I can reblog your awesome here! Have fun!

“Help me.”                                        | Failed Escape | On the Run | Fetal Position |

“It didn’t have to be this way.”             | Scream | Double Cross | Made to Watch |

“Well, well, well…”                            | Hiding | Ambushed | Stalking |

“Does that hurt?”                               | Impalement | Fracture | Punishment |

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”                 | Bite | Swelling | Disfiguration |

“They don’t care about you.”               | Flinch | Broken Promise | Abandoned |

“What happened?”                            | Nightmare | Isolation | Stumbling |

“This is your last chance.”                    | Drowning | Chair | Prisoner Trade |

“I made a mistake.”                            | Accident | Acceptance | Blame |

“Can you hear me?”                           | Fear | Smoke | Phone Call |

“We’re out of time.”                           | Bleeding Out | Collapse | Flatline |

“I can’t stand seeing you like this.”        | Dehydration | Grief | Coma |

“Wait!”                                             | Sacrifice | Adrenaline | Cornered |

“What were you thinking?”                  | Surrender | Human Shield | Outmatched |

“Get me out of here!”                         | Rescue | Chainsaw | Presumed Dead |

“At least it can’t get any worse.”           | Secret | Stranded | Setback |

“You don’t want to do that.”                | Struggle | Blackmail | Desperate Measures |

“I’m fine.”                                         | Self-defense | Allergies | Headache |

“This can’t be happening!”                  | Sobbing | Straitjacket | Dissociation |

“I can handle it.”                                | Scrape | Panic Attack | Neglect |

“Let’s play a game. “                           | Stairs | Pressure Points | Trap Door |

“What’s the bad news?”                      | Poison | Bedridden | Cauterization |

“You’re doing great.”                         | Trembling | Gaslighting | Rules |

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”                  | Blankets | Stitches | Bandages |

“I should have listened to you.”           | Guilt | Backseat | Failure |

“Don’t lie to me.”                               | Rage | Choke | Paranoia |

“Or what?”                                       | Defiance | Display | Last Resort |

“Say something.”                               | Numb | Cold Shoulder | Gag |

“I’m so cold.”                                    | Delirium | Fever | Exposure |

“Breathe, damn you!”                         | Shock | Asphyxiation | Emergency Room |

ALTERNATE PROMPTS

“Who did this to you?”

“Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not okay.”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“You poor thing.”

Attending Your Own Funeral

Broken Glass

Mask

Whip

Obedience

[serickswrites]

Let's Get You Cleaned Up

Warnings: captivity, torture, bruises, restraints, rescue, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort, hurt/recovery

Whumpee trembled in the corner of their cage. Their face hurt and they knew the bruises of various ages that covered their body probably also covered their face. Whumper had been relentless in their beating. But didn't break any of Whumpee's bones. Didn't bleed them. Just battered and bruised Whumpee for hours on end.

Each time Whumper was done with them, Whumper shoved them back in the cage, locking their shackles to the back corner. Each time was a welcome relief from the pain. Each time Whumpee could huddle in the corner and cry by themself. Each time they were safe from Whumper.

But this time was different.

Whumpee could hear screaming and shouting from deep within the compound. Could hear the sound of fighting. Each noise grew louder and louder. Each noise had Whumpee shaking harder and harder. What if someone was coming to hurt them?

The door banged open and Whumpee flattened themself into the corner of the cage. They couldn't help the fine tremor that wracked their body.

"Whumpee?" A voice that Whumpee had hoped they would hear again called. "Whumpee, are you there?"

"Caretaker," Whumpee sobbed. They were saved. Caretaker was there. Caretaker had found them.

"Whumpee!" Caretaker said as they hurried forward. "Let's get you out of there and cleaned up."

"Caretaker," Whumpee sobbed harder. This was real. This was happening. They were saved.

Caretaker quickly broke the lock on the cage doors. They quickly unchained Whumpee. "Whumpee, Whumpee. I've got you. You're ok," Caretaker said as they took Whumpee in their arms.

"You're freezing! Let's get you a blanket." Caretaker started to rise, but Whumpee clung on harder.

"Please," Whumpee sobbed into Caretaker's chest, "don't leave. I...I can't, please."

Caretaker wrapped their arms around Whumpee tighter. "I'm not going to leave you, Whumpee. Not ever. I have you. You're safe now."

[sufrimientilia]

"It’s not as bad as it looks."

Bite | Swelling | Disfiguration @juneofdoom Day 5

cw: broken ankle, hypnosis, vampire whumper, hypnotized whumpee, see above

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Thrall sat hunched over at the base of the stairs, big round tears leaking from those big round eyes. “But I think- I think it’s broken.”

“Don’t be silly.” Vampire descended towards him, regal with every motion. So unlike their precious thrall, always clumsy and uncoordinated. One pale hand slid down the banister. “You aren’t that fragile, are you?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Master,” Thrall gasped out. His ankle definitely looked broken— it was so disfigured his foot twisted the wrong fucking way, and it hurt. It hurt so bad. It was the type of white-hot agony that caught at his breath and made everything spin, fire and needles all over his foot, so desperate to not even move out of fear of making it worse. “I didn’t mean to- I- I didn’t mean…”

“I know, I know. You got yourself all worked up, and now look at you.” Vampire loomed over him, a tall dark presence so imposing it was dizzying. His master always had the same effect— the kind that made everything distort around the edges with the catch of his gravitational pull, like Vampire’s proximity alone made it harder to focus and harder to breathe. Everything blurred as a cold hand came to rest on his head. “Poor thing, tripping down the stairs like that. You really should be more careful.”

It was as easy as that, rewriting impatient shoves into clumsy missteps, soothing away barely contained fear into helplessness. Vampire never hurt him; Vampire was here to help him, take care of him. Tears leaked off Thrall’s chin as a faraway look swept across his face. “I… I fell…”

“Such a klutz.” Vampire stroked a finger down Thrall’s temple. The dizzy feeling intensified. “Maybe you shouldn’t be going up and down the stairs without me, hmm? So dangerous for a human. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Thrall, glassy-eyed and numbed, gave a curt nod. When he looked at the stairs again, they stretched out before him— impossible and endless, going up and up and up. So very, very scary. He clung close to Vampire as they scooped him up into their impossibly slender arms, gasping as his disfigured foot left the ground. “Ahh-! It- it hurts.”

“Poor thing,” Vampire cooed. Thrall was practically weightless in their grasp, and they carried him down the corridor to a dimly lit room with plush furniture. Thrall gasped again when he was laid across the cushions. “There you are. You should rest now. I’ll help you feel better.”

It wasn’t like Thrall was given much of a choice about it. The dull thrum along the bowl of his skull intensified, everything churning until there was just warmth and syrup melting through his veins. It was easy to forget about the agony of his ankle as it gave way to a numb sort of throbbing, still disfigured and swollen and screaming somewhere far, far away, but conveniently tucked just out of his sight. He melted like putty. “Mmn…”

Thrall’s breath caught at the sharp pain suddenly piercing his neck. Vampire fed gently, indulgent but not greedy, gentle and cautious despite the damage already done. Sometimes a little bit of hurt just added some flavor. But now Thrall didn’t hurt at all, heat and warmth blossoming all over, eyes glazing and rolling until they couldn’t stay open at all. Paralyzed into the depths of bliss as a cold slender tongue lapped and lapped and lapped.

His ankle didn’t get set until hours later, when it was so swollen the task was nearly impossible. He blacked out for most of it and screamed for the rest. At least he had Vampire around to help him, to rub his shoulders and nuzzle his neck, to make it all feel better. His master always took such good care of him.

[silencedvoices]

June of Doom Day 6

“They don’t care about you.”  | Flinch | Broken Promise | Abandoned |

Content: manipulation, intimate whumper

Whumpee flinched as they heard the door to their cell open. Whumper walked in looking almost sympathetic, a look that could never be trusted coming from them.

Whumper sighed, "I just got off the phone with your team."

Whumpee perked their head up at that.

"They had a whole lot to say but I um... have something to tell you."

Whumpee was paying so much attention that Whumper thought their brain might explode.

"They agreed that they aren't coming back for you."

Whumper tried to hide their delight as Whumpee's eyes widened in disbelief like they were a puppy that just got kicked.

"What? You're lying. They wouldn't-"

"Oh, but yes they would." Whumpee shivered as Whumper looked them directly in the eyes walking towards them. "That's why they abandoned you in the first place."

"But... they wouldn't. I know my team better than you and... they wouldn't do that."

Whumper kneeled down in front of Whumpee, face filled with some form of concern but there was a fire in their eyes that Whumpee didn't want to acknowledge.

"Oh sweetheart, I hate to say this but... they don't care about you."

Whumpee's heart shattered in an instant. Deep down they knew their team thought lesser of them and probably weren't coming back, but to hear it straight from Whumper really set it in stone.

Whumpee broke down in tears as Whumper cradled them in their arms.

"Don't cry sweetheart. I know it's not what you wanted to hear, but you still have me."

This only made Whumpee cry harder as they melted in Whumper's arms. It felt so wrong, it was so wrong, but what else could they do? They didn't want to acknowledge it, but the only one they had left was Whumper. Even if they hated them. Even if Whumper had hurt them endlessly for so long. They didn't have a choice so they chose the only thing they could choose; to finally give in.

[fairyniceyeah]

💎🍚Eyes on you, eyes on me

Title from Eyes on you (SEVENTEEN)

Summary: While playing a game Jeonghan gets hurt. Jihoon blames himself. - A rewriting of Day 21: "Let's play a game" from Woozi’s perspective.

CW: injury, guilt

Whumpee: Woozi/Jihoon (+ Jeonghan) Caretakers: Hoshi/Soonyoung + Wonwoo

Let’s play a game, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

Jihoon was most definitely not having fun. Not even in the slightest. 

He had long overcome any insecurities surrounding his height, knowing it would be his downfall if he let it get to him. Most of the time it didn’t bother him that he was shorter than most male idols, even some female ones. He’d been able to brush it off with grace, enduring the bit of teasing that wasn’t worse than what Mingyu received for his clumsiness, Seungcheol got hit with just for being the (albeit very pouty) leader and Dino because he was the maknae.

So normally he didn’t mind and he wasn’t about to start getting insecure now.

If anything though, he was angry. Angry at the staff that had hung the signs for the Chaos game this Going Episode just out of his reach. They should have taken his height into consideration, just like people considered that Jun, Minghao and Joshua sometimes couldn’t follow very fast conversation and game explanations or considered the injuries any member had at times.

And he was angry at Hoshi who kept teasing him. He knew deep down that his best friend didn’t mean it at all, in fact he was probably trying to make the episode fun and simultaneously trying to lighten the mood seeing how Jihoon was getting more and more worked up. But right now, it didn’t help Jihoon in the slightest. In fact, it made it worse.

“Should I get you a box to stand upon?”, Soonyoung asked cheekily, winking at Jihoon.

Yeah. Funny.

“Leave it, Soonyoung”, Jihoon mumbled, feeling his nerves fraying.

It was going to be a humiliating episode for him for sure. And he hated getting humiliated unlike Mingyu and DK who he was sure had some form of humiliation kink. Okay, damn, his thoughts were really falling apart.

Even worse, his whole team was probably going to be the butt of Carat’s jokes soon. Vernon, oblivious as fuck, barely was any help and Jeonghan, their only hope, had gotten caught by their general leader when he had tried to cheat.

“Come on, you normally don’t care about being vertically challenged”, Hoshi teased further.

Something in Jihoon snapped at his words. Why couldn’t Soonyoung read the room and leave him alone?

“Go screw yourself”, he snarled, not caring at all that the whole part would need to be edited out due to his use of curse words. He was rather glad.

He wasn’t proud of his actions, of shoving his shoulder into Soonyoung’s chest as he stomped past, but at the moment he couldn’t care less about the hurt look he saw on the dancer’s face.

💎

He stood by the stairs leading down to the ground floor, taking deep calming breaths so he wouldn’t snap at another member or staff, when he saw the sign with the number 17 high up by the stairs. Wait, that was the number their team was looking for!

There was no way Jihoon was going to be able to reach that. He didn’t even need to test if he could reach it by standing on his tip-toes. It was much too high. He’d have to bite the bullet of asking for help.

Ashamed with how he had treated Hoshi, he knew that he couldn’t keep holding onto the anger boiling inside him. It was a team game and he was a team player. After taking another deep breath he called out for his Jeonghan-hyung. 

If anything Jihoon knew he needed Jeonghan to keep him in line should he get snappish again and he wouldn’t take it to heart like Vernon might. Since both of them were the same height it didn’t matter anyways.

When his hyung approached, Jihoon helplessly gestured up at the sign out of reach. 

Jeonghan actually groaned and mumbled: “I hate this game.”

That was just plain unfair. He didn’t get to be pouty too. Right now, Jihoon felt like he deserved to be the only one complaining. He crossed his arms over his chest aching with guilt and annoyance.

“You’re telling me that?”

Jihoon was stunned when he felt Jeonghan patting his head, cooing at him. It was plain rude and he was starting to feel angry again. He understood it was for fan service, yes, and that this section might need to be on camera since they were about to actually do something. Besides, he had already ruined one shot. So to keep himself from cursing at the older, he hit him - maybe a bit harder than strictly necessary - to satisfy his need for violence.

Even then all Jeonghan said was: “Cute.”

Okay. Two could play this game.

“You’re just pissed that you were caught cheating”, Jihoon said.

“I am not”, Jeonghan lied. Jihoon was sure of it. “Only that Seungcheol betrayed me like this.”

Yeah, that had been very unfair of the general leader, Jihoon had to admit to it. Jeonghan may have broken the rules, but again their team consisted of lazy Jeonghan, short Jihoon and confused Vernon while tall Seungcheol had annoying Hoshi and fucking tower Mingyu. It was deserved extra help.

As always Seungcheol started to pout when he heard his full name, yelling: “Hey. Stop pouting. You deserved that!” all across the house.

“Shut up”, Jihoon and Jeonghan called back.

Jihoon crossed his arms again, seeing that Jeonghan followed his example. Now that Jihoon saw Jeonghan stand next to him he felt a bit better. There also was no way that Jeonghan could reach that paper. It made Jihoon feel a bit better about himself, though he would never admit it. 

After staring at it for a few moments, Jihoon’s patience ran out. “What are we gonna do about that?”

“I suppose, I could try balancing?”, Jeonghan suggested. 

Did his hyung have a death wish? Jihoon whirled around to stare him down, disbelief cursing through his veins. How did Jeonghan think that would go?

“Are you crazy? You’ll fall.”

“I won’t.”

💎

Jihoon was about to reply something along the lines of “mighty last words” when Jeonghan just stepped forwards and stood on his tip-toes to reach the paper. His fingertips were nearly comically far away.

“Hold me”, he ordered and grasped onto Jihoon’s hand before he had even the slightest chance to tell his hyung how big of an idiot he was. All he could do was beg him to stop.

“Hyung, don’t!”, he called out, unashamed of his voice slightly trembling. Jeonghan was crazy. They were on the top of a long flight of stairs. If there was one thing the active toddler in him remembered was his parents telling him to never mess around with stairs. You could break your neck, sweetie, or worse. Be careful, please!

Jeonghan, apparently, never had had that particular lecture. He probably had been too lazy to be running around stairs as a child already. But at least common sense from the smarter than average man should tell him it was a terrible horrible idea. Yet, he just held onto Jihoon and edged further and further over the abyss below. 

“Hyung!”

Jihoon held tighter onto him, not willing to let his friend fall. His palms were sweaty and he could practically feel Jeonghan slip further away from him. He may have started working out a few weeks ago but that didn’t mean he could already hold onto a grown-ass man, a grown-ass man much bigger than him no less. Especially not on top of stairs.

“Hyung!”

Jeonghan grabbed onto the paper and for a moment it seemed like maybe Jihoon had been a bit too overly cautious and that they would succeed after all. But then, as Jeonghan tore off the paper, it wasn't enough. No matter how hard Jihoon tried to pull them back up, he wasn’t strong enough. Not to save both of them.

“HYUNG!”, he screamed, their hands torn apart. For a moment Jeonghan’s face seemed frozen in front of him, various emotions painted on his face. Surprise. Shock. Fear. Desperation. Then he fell.

💎

Jihoon’s knees exploded in pain as he fell forward, only his body’s instinct to lean backward stopping him from falling down the stairs as well. 

When he managed to recover from the shock of pain all he could see was his hyung - his loving, doting, smart, amazing, kind, gentle, sweet, helpful, mischievous hyung - laying broken at the bottom of the stairs, managers, staff, members crowding him and then hiding him from Jihoon’s sight. 

He couldn’t control the scream that was torn from his throat.

All Jihoon wanted to do was rush down the stairs to Jeonghan, check on him, see if he was … alive. He surely was alive, wasn’t he? 

You could break your neck, sweetie, or worse.

Jihoon couldn’t move, no matter how much he wanted. It was like he was rooted to the spot, frozen to the ground, set in stone. Everything was blurry.

💎

Suddenly strong arms wrapped around his chest and pulled him back, causing him to fall backwards and collapse into the person. He gasped, throat raw, and then he blinked up at the person. 

His blurred sight - it was only then when he tasted the salty tears on his tongue that he realised he was crying - showed he was cradled in Wonwoo’s lap, the older man holding him tightly. Next to him sat Soonyoung who looked about as scared as Jihoon felt, but much more determined. 

“Jihoon-ah?”, Soonyoung asked gently and held onto Jihoon’s hand. 

For a moment Jihoon swore he could feel Jeonghan’s hand slipping from his again.

“Jihoon-ah? Are you injured? Does something hurt?”, Soonyoung asked and when Jihoon could only stare at him, chest heaving, he cupped Jihoon’s cheek in his hand, his thumb wiping away the tears.

Normally Jihoon would have killed Soonyoung for even thinking about doing anything like this but right now it was the most comforting thing in the world. 

Slowly he shook his head. The pain in his knees had lessened mostly and he knew there was nothing they could do against the bruises there. 

“Jeonghannie-hyung?”, he asked instead, before he was even aware he would ask the question, “is he okay?”

Wonwoo and Soonyoung exchanged a glance that made the blood freeze in Jihoon’s veins. “Please, is he okay?”

“Jihoonie”, Wonwoo finally said and held him tighter, “we don’t know yet. But paramedics are on the way and the others are taking care of hyung right now. We should focus on you.”

Take care of him? Jihoon didn’t understand. He was fine.

“You’re not fine, baby”, Soonyoung said with a sad smile, “you’re pretty scared, huh? I think you may be experiencing a bit of shock right now.”

All Jihoon could do was nod. He didn’t have the strength to lie and he did feel pretty shocked. 

Suddenly Soonyoung let go of him. Jihoon gasped, not wanting to lose the contact. He didn’t want to lose Soonyoung too.

“Hey, hey”, Soonyoung said, sounding a bit further away, “I’m not leaving you. I’m just gonna elevate your legs for a bit, okay? Just until you feel a bit better. Just breathe, okay?”

Jihoon nodded and closed his eyes. Soonyoung’s hands were warm against his calves and he was not only elevating his legs, he was soothingly patting Jihoon’s ankle, giving him something to focus on. His head was still resting in Wonwoo’s lap and only now did he notice that Wonwoo was gently stroking his hair and softly humming a song. 

Ulgo sipji ana

💎

Jihoon let the older members take care of him for once. His heart still hadn’t stopped pounding in his chest and he noticed he was shivering. He was terrified, shocked like Soonyoung had said. He couldn’t bring himself to move, to look, to go to Jeonghan for now. He was too scared of what he would see. He didn’t want to lose Jeonghan. He didn’t think he could ever stop the self-blame if something bad had happened. Why hadn’t he been stronger?

It took a while for Jihoon to stop crying and trembling. It passed like the blink of an eye, an eternity at the same time. Slowly Wonwoo helped him sit up, Jihoon’s back against his chest. 

“Breathe, Jihoon-ah.” The producer could hear the older’s chest rumble as he spoke in his gentle, kind voice. “You’re okay. Hannie-hyung will be okay too.”

You don’t know that, Jihoon wanted to shoot back. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak the words.

You could break your neck, sweetie, or worse.

“I want to see hyung”, Jihoon said, his voice more determined than he felt. “I need to see hyung.”

“Okay”, Soonyoung replied gently and let go of Jihoon’s legs, “let’s go.”

He stood up and reached his hands down to help Jihoon up. With Wonwoo’s hand on his back and Soonyoung holding his hands, Jihoon shakily got to his feet. His knees buckled a bit under him but he managed to stay standing. 

Soonyoung never let go of Jihoon as they slowly walked down the stairs together, Jihoon’s gaze fixed on the steps. He didn’t know how he would react when he saw Jeonghan and he didn’t want to cause Soonyoung to fall down the stairs too if he freaked out.

💎

Once they were at the bottom of the stairs, Jihoon noticed that the bubble of people surrounding Jeonghan was gone. Instead only Minghao was kneeling by their hyung’s side. The younger member was stroking away the tears on Jeonghan’s face. Jihoon didn’t know if they came from pain or shock. Some strands of hair stuck to Jeonghan’s cheeks that Minghao carefully peeled away, gentle as always. For a moment Jihoon could only watch. Jeonghan looked much more peaceful than he had imagined but it was still scary to see him so still.

“Please be more careful, hyung”, Minghao whispered, “it was terrifying. I was taking a break and was watching you and Woozi-hyung. Seeing you fall so suddenly … I … you really scared us today.”

Jihoon swallowed. He hadn’t even had thought about what the situation would do to the other members - he had only thought of Jeonghan and himself. He imagined it must have been so scary, maybe the suddenness of it all even more so than to Jihoon who was involved in the situation.

“I’m sorry, Eissa. I didn’t think”, Jeonghan mumbled. But Jihoon couldn’t believe the next words his self-sacrificing idiot of a hyung said “Are the others okay?”

He didn’t hesitate to interject, stepping forward, away from Soonyoung. His voice came out less angry than he had imagined, weaker than intended. 

“So much is clear. That you didn’t think, I mean. Do you know how terrifying it was to feel your hand slip out of my grip and see you fall?”

Jihoon sat down and wrapped an arm around Minghao who had startled at his sudden appearance, letting the scared younger member rest against him. Even if Minghao was acting strong, Jihoon could see how he was scared and he wasn’t as heartless as some people thought him to be. 

Only then did he finally look at Jeonghan, barely able to meet his eyes. I wish I could have saved you, hyung. I wish I had been stronger.

“I’m sorry, Jihoon-ah”, Jeonghan apologized quietly. “I never wanted to make you go through that.”

Jihoon didn’t really want to hear the apology. He didn’t think he could accept it yet. He knew he should have been stronger. But he also knew Jeonghan never should have played with his health, his safety like this. As loath as Jihoon was to admit it - this was Jeonghan’s fault in a way. He had decided to play. He had trusted Jihoon to hold him - and Jihoon had failed him - but still it had been his decision in the beginning to even try the stunt.

“I know, hyung. Please don’t be so reckless in the future”, Jihoon just said. I’m sorry.

But he couldn’t say those last words, because suddenly the door was flung open and paramedics rushed into the room. Jihoon squeezed Jeonghan’s hand tightly, hoping it conveyed the apology, and stepped back. Immediately Soonyoung was there, wrapping him in his arms again.

💎

Now all they could do was wait and hope that their Jeonghan would be fine.

Masterlist links: Fairy's Masterlist 2024 Fairy's Masterlist 2025 Fairy's Masterlist - SEVENTEEN

[cuddlepilefics]

“You poor thing“ - juneofdoom alternate prompt

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie/Little: Minho

Caregivers: Stray Kids

Prompt by @juneofdoom

"The baby caught the sniffles..."

No one’s POV.:

“Lix, do you know where the thermometer is?” Well, that was not a question Felix had expected to be woken up with early on a Sunday morning. His mind was still hazy when he propped himself up to look at Jeongin. “No”, he yawned, “What’s going on?” – “The baby caught the sniffles”, the maknae explained, referring to Minho. Though he was the second oldest of the group, Minho also had something to him that made even the youngest members swoon. Sometimes when the pressure got too much for him to bear, he slipped into his littlespace, regressing to a far younger mental age. There was no denying that little Minho was absolutely adorable and the members felt oh so very protective of him, so hearing that their friend was unwell had Felix awake in an instant.

While Jeongin still searched the dorm for the thermometer to get a read on Minho’s fever, Felix went straight to the little’s room. “Good morning, lovely”, the Aussie whispered as he approached the bed, “Awake this early on a day off, huh?” He took a seat on the edge of the mattress and gently felt Minho’s forehead, wincing: “Yeah, Innie should definitely find that thermometer. You’re so warm, kitten.” The little only looked up at Felix, eyes glossed-over and red-rimmed. Holding his gaze was the only reaction showing Felix that the other had heard him. “Can you tell hyung how you feel?”, the Aussie tried but Minho just kept looking at him.

“Found it!”, Jeongin announced with a small smile, holding up the thermometer, “Minnie, can you tell hyungs how old you are?” Realizing that their friend had slipped rather young, Felix showed the boy two fingers and hummed: “Are you two?” That was the younger Minho usually slipped and his mental age ranged from two to five depending on the circumstances but this time, he hadn’t even understood the question. He only looked at Felix’ hand curiously before grabbing one finger and holding on tightly. “The baby’s tiny”, Felix beamed, pinching Minho’s flushed cheek, “You poor thing, so tiny and icky, hm?” – “It’s okay, lovely. Let hyung take your temperature, so we can figure out how to make you feel better”, Jeongin shushed when he saw tears welling up in the little’s eyes.

Still clutching Felix’ finger, Minho tugged on it. When the Aussie didn’t react, he gave a hoarse whine. “You’re okay, kitten”, Felix breathed, waiting for the thermometer to beep before laying down alongside Minho. Clicking his tongue, Jeongin tutted: “Yeah, no wonder you got no energy. That’s quite the temperature you’re running.” It disturbed the maknae how Minho lay so still and unmoving. Even at his youngest moments, the little was always squirmy, kicking his legs or flapping the sleeves of his oversized sweaters. Felix lightly stroked Minho’s cheek and let the boy curl up against his side. “I’ll go grab some stuff”, Jeongin announced, ruffling Minho’s hair, “You got him, right?” The Aussie gave a hum of confirmation, so Jeongin quietly slipped out of the room.

Jeongin fetched the bottle of liquid medicine they owned and brought Felix a cold washcloth to hold to Minho’s forehead before setting off to the kitchen to prepare a small bite to eat for the little, so he wouldn’t have to take his medicine on an empty stomach. As he stood at the stove cooking a soft porridge, Seungmin joined him. “What are you doing up so early”, the vocalist yawned, being used to being the first one awake. Jeongin startled a little, having been too deep in thought to hear the other approach, before he sighed: “Minho’s sick and he slipped really young. He’s in babyspace and we’ll try to get some food into him, so he can take something for his fever.” – “Lix is with him?”, Seungmin guessed and his dongsaeng nodded, “I’ll go check on them.”

“Good morning”, the vocalist whispered when he slipped into Minho’s room, “I heard the baby’s sick?” The little gave a pained whimper before looking up at Seungmin, eyes glossy with fever. Cupping Minho’s cheek, Felix hummed: “Mhm, someone woke up really early, feeling really icky and so, so small.” – “Jeonginnie is cooking breakfast for you, little one. We’ll give you medicine and you’ll be feeling so much better in no time”, Seungmin smiled, rubbing the little’s arm. Scanning the assortment of littlegear and sick supplies on the nightstand, he mused: “I should probably make some tea. You’re so quiet today and that whimper sounded like your throat hurt. No sippy cup today, I think.” – “Nah, I think you should go straight for the bottle. Our kitten is to small to drink from a sippy cup today”, Felix agreed, using the cold washcloth to dab at the tears that had started to drip from Minho’s lashes.

Jeongin really hadn’t been long till he returned with a small steaming bowl of porridge, ready to start the challenging task of convincing Minho to eat. Felix sat up and propped the little up against his chest, which earned him a frustrated whine. “I know you’re tired and achy, love”, the Aussie shushed, adjusting their position to make Minho as comfortable as possible, “You can lay back down soon, just have a few bites and your medicine first.” Minho didn’t have the slightest appetite though and turned his head whenever Jeongin would lift the spoon from the bowl. His throat ached, making it hard to swallow and with his nose almost completely blocked, he felt desperate for air and couldn’t bear to have anything in his mouth. Feeding Minho took all of Jeongin’s patience and he already considered calling over Changbin because the rapper seemed to possess endless patience but he did manage to get a few spoonful and the into the little and decided that that was good enough.

Surprisingly, Minho barely fought them over having to take medicine, despite gagging on it before sleepily suckling on the bottle Seungmin held to his lips to help him get rid of the taste. While the vocalist took his turn, laying down with Minho, Felix and Jeongin informed the rest of the group about what was going on and it took Chan all but five minutes to arrive at their dorm to check on his physically oldest dongsaeng himself. When he entered the dancer’s bedroom, he found the boy sobbing with Seungmin holding a tissue to his face. “Min, I know it’s difficult to breathe”, Seungmin sighed, “That’s why you gotta blow your nose. Oh, morning, Chan-hyung.” – “What’s wrong?”, the eldest frowned, rubbing Minho’s back. Running the tissue under the little’s nose, Seungmin hummed: “He had to sneeze and I think his sinuses hurt. Crying will only make it worse though.” – “Aigo, you poor thing”, Chan cooed and pulled Minho onto his lap. He plucked another tissue from the box and tried to encourage the little to blow his nose, though it was hard to tell whether the boy even understood when Chan wanted him to do.

His attempts at blowing his nose only left it so much itchier and Chan barely managed to grab two fresh tissues in time to catch a quick sneezing fit. Gently cleaning Minho up, Chan mumbled: “Bless you. You wanna try again?” The little only burst into tears at that. Sneezing hurt, so no, of course he wouldn’t try again if it might make him sneeze. Exhausted, Minho rested his head on Chan’s shoulder, hands going up to clutch at the leader’s shirt when the older got up with him in his arms. “It’s okay, sweets. It’s okay”, Chan promised as he placed Minho on his hip. The little’s sheets were already damp with sweat, so Chan decided to settle him on the couch for the time being, so he could put fresh sheets on his bed.

By now, Changbin, Hyunjin and Jisung had come over too and Changbin had even had the presence of mind to pick up breakfast for the group as well as cough drops for Minho. Minho lifted his head as soon as he heard Jisung’s voice and made grabby hands for the rapper, the most heartbreaking pout on his chapped lips. Knowing exactly what the little wanted, Chan smiled: “Good morning. Ji, would you take a seat on the couch, please? I’ll place Minho on your lap, so I can go change his sheets. Baby’s all sweaty and overheated.” – “Oh dear”, Jisung sighed sympathetically, immediately sitting down, “Does my Minnie need cuddles?” Feeling flustered, Minho hid his face against Jisung’s neck and made the rapper chuckle. Jisung comfortingly patted his back and smiled: “It’s okay, kitten. Hyung’s got you.”

The group ate breakfast, while Jisung tried to have Minho sip some more tea. It was a slow going though. Cuddling into Jisung’s chest, the little suckled on his bottle but needed frequent breaks to catch his breath. As long as Minho stayed hydrated, the rapper would give him all the time he needed even if that meant his own breakfast would have to wait for a little while longer. “Maybe we could give Minnie a bath”, Hyunjin proposed as he took Minho from Jisung, so the other could eat something, “We still have some menthol bath oil, which should clear up his congestion and if we keep the water temperature low, we might be able to bring his fever down.” – “Great idea”, Chan agreed, “At the very least, Min should feel a bit refreshed after getting all that sweat of his skin. Right, baby?” The younger only looked at him, hoarsely babbling something as he leant against Hyunjin. Sitting upright seemed to demand all his strength, so Chan really wanted to tuck him back into bed after washing up.

Felix filled the tub and made sure the water temperature would still be comfortable. There was no way Minho would rest well if they gave him chills. Seungmin picked out a fresh outfit for the little, choosing a hoodie because he knew how much it soothed his friend to chew on the cuffs of his sleeves. To make sure the other wouldn’t overheat, he paired it with shorts, so there would be enough skin exposed to keep him cool. Minho barely understood what was happening to him when Hyunjin carried him to the bathroom and wanted him to undress. When the other handed him his rubber duck though, Minho gave a little smile.

The water seemed to bring back some of Minho’s energy and he happily played with his cups and ducky before Hyunjin called him to wash his hair. Sighing contently, the little rested his back against the side of the tub while Hyunjin shampooed his hair, taking his time to massage his scalp. “Oh, someone’s got a runny nose now”, Chan chuckled when him and Changbin maneuvered Minho out of the tub. They bundled the little into a towel and sat him down on the closed toilet lid before Chan tried to get him to blow his nose again. This time he had more success and Minho breathed a bit easier after going through three tissues. They got him dressed and after blow-drying his hair, Changbin picked him up and carried him back to his room.

When Changbin placed Minho down on his bed, he couldn’t help but coo. The little was gnawing on the cuff of his sleeve and looked up at him with glossy eyes, not at all pleased to not be held anymore. Giving a scratchy cough behind his sleeve, Minho tried to give Changbin a disapproving look and although it looked absolutely adorable, the rapper got the hint and sat down next to his friend. “Do you want hyung to stay?”, Changbin asked softly. He took a seat against the headboard and encouraged: “Get comfy, love. Hyung will sit with you however long. We won’t leave you on your own, baby.” Minho lay down with his head pillowed by the rapper’s thigh, suckling on the cuff of his sleeve while his friend pulled the blanket up over him. The other members gave them some space, so they wouldn’t wake Minho, only popping in to place the little’s bottle filled with tea onto the nightstand and to give Changbin a cold washcloth to dab the boy’s forehead with, which the rapper did with a fond smile on his lips. He was absolutely right, Min was so loved, he wouldn’t be left on his own, not when there were seven caregivers who would give their souls to make sure he would be okay.

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 15, 28

“Get me out of here!” | Rescue | Gag

Taglist: @scoundrelwithboba, @tildeathiwillwrite

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Contains: restraints, gag, suspicion, non-life threatening injury

WC: 750

Bleeding, fraying edges

Stupidly, the food taster hoped that when the chair fell onto its side—bringing him with it—he would somehow find himself graced with the good fortune of having loosened the ropes on his arms, legs, and torso.

Alas, his luck had at last run dry. His arm, pinned between the chair and the floor, flared with agony and then went numb, deadened to the point where he couldn’t tell quite how injured it was.

Bucking and struggling against the restraints, even with the chair halfway overturned, did little but scrape his skin even more until it was nothing but swollen, bleeding, fraying edges. The knot in his mouth kept his shouts for help woefully subdued, and the thick material sucked away moisture until he was certain he would die of thirst.

By the time the door to his prison reopened, he was soaked with sweat, limp, and on the verge of tearfully agreeing to provide his assistance in murdering a queen.

But the voice that called his name was not the one he expected.

The world tilted the right way again, restored to its proper orientation, and worried hands tore at the gag and the ropes. “You idiot! I told you that you’d get caught up in trouble! Why don’t you listen to me?”

Half-laughing, half-groaning as greatly unwelcome sensation flooded into his arm, the food taster said, embarrassingly sincere, “Okay. I admit it. I should’ve listened. I’m sorry. Now get me out of here.”

“Damn right you’re sorry.” His friend grasped his arms. “Can you stand?”

“I don’t know,” the food taster admitted, a little dizzy when he tried. “How long . . . ?”

His friend replied, but it was then that the food taster realized that his rescue had not been executed independently. A girl in a palace uniform watched him with wide, sympathetic eyes, while a man stood by the door, hunched and silent as he kept watch over the corridor.

“You made friends,” he observed stupidly. The ghost of a smile flicked over the girl’s face.

“Yes. I suppose.” Giving only a raised eyebrow and mere moments as warning, the governor’s son pulled the food taster to his feet, propping him upright to support his trembling limbs. “We, well—we’re not done yet, either.” As if to punctuate this statement, the girl nodded. “She’s looking for someone, too.”

“And we’ll find her,” the girl said adamantly, folding her arms.

The food taster’s stomach sank. “Her? The girl who lured me here? She works for that mad prince.”

As the girl responded tightly, “So do I,” the man by the door went rigid.

“You’ve changed your tune,” his friend said, paling. “I thought . . .”

“He wants me to kill his mother,” the food taster explained in a rush. “The queen. Break some curse and then help poison her. That girl’s the one who—she was looking for me. Because he told—”

A wave of dizziness washed over him as the silent stranger with blood streaking his face and neck turned to meet his gaze.

Overwhelmed by the taste in the air, that salt-and-acid tang of a curse, the food taster nearly gagged.

“You, too,” he said, his heart racing as he pointed toward the man. More cursed gold. How? Why? How many people did the prince manipulate like puppets? “You work for him, too.”

The man’s mouth twisted, and his fingers curled into fists.

“I don’t think so,” said the girl. “I’ve never seen him before. We freed him from another cell here.”

“How can we be certain, though?” the governor’s son asked, cold and wary. “If he can’t say anything?”

The gold around the man’s throat glinted.

The food taster staggered forward, reaching out his non-benumbed hand. “It’s this, isn’t it?”

The metal seemed to sizzle against the man’s skin; the taste of magic burned the air.

The man tried to jerk away, fear and fury contorting his features, but the food taster—the cursebreaker—wrapped his fingers around the chain.

“Explain yourself, then.”

The chain snapped.

The man fell backwards, chest heaving, eyes gleaming and wide, as the cursebreaker collapsed to his knees. Breaking through the fog in his mind—too much magic, too much exertion, too much, too much—came the stranger’s voice, rusty as ancient iron.

“Never mind me,” he rasped. “I want to save her, too. My sister.” He choked as if he suppressed a sob. “I see things. I know things. And I know we have to find her. Now.”

June of Doom Masterlist

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All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[bloody-bee-tea]

June of (minimal) Doom 2024 Day 8 - This is your last chance

Suguru has just put on some real clothes when Satoru barges into his room, without knocking, just like he always does. It earns him an unamused glare from Suguru, but since Satoru isn’t even looking at him it has little to no effect.

“I’m back and I’m ready to relax now!” Satoru declares, as if he’s bestowing a great wisdom upon Suguru and Suguru only raises his eyebrow, waiting for Satoru to catch up to the fact that he’s clearly dressed to go out.

It takes Satoru a minute, which is filled with them just staring at each other and then Satoru takes in Suguru’s attire.

“You’re not ready to relax,” he then accusingly says and Suguru snorts out a laugh.

“Clearly,” he gives back. 

“Why?” Satoru whines and Suguru goes to put on some shoes.

“Because I’m about to go out,” Suguru explains the obvious and does not falter in the face of Satoru’s pout.

“But why?” Satoru whines again though he does step closer to hang off Suguru’s arm, as if he could make him stop with that.

“Because,” Suguru simply says and then laughs right in Satoru’s face when he blinks at him. “There’s a fair I want to check out,” he eventually relents when Satoru doesn’t stop his pouting.

“No, we’re supposed to relax,” Satoru gives back, tugging on Suguru’s arm to drag him towards the bed.

Suguru is not going to be swayed, though, so he digs his heels in and doesn’t budge an inch.

“Satoru, I have been relaxing for the last two days, I’m tired of it. I get that you’d want to do that, though, so no hard feelings if you don’t want to come along,” Suguru says and gently but firmly pushes Satoru’s hands off him.

“Suguru,” Satoru almost cries out, as if Suguru leaving him for one afternoon is the worst thing in the world and Suguru sighs.

“You can always come along,” he gently reminds him with a little nod towards the door. “It’ll be fun. And there are bound to be some food stalls around,” he tries, knowing that if there’s any way he’ll get Satoru go to with him, it’ll be because of this.

“No, that’s not the same as relaxing here,” Satoru decides, stomping his foot on the ground like the child he clearly is and Suguru rolls his eyes.

“Fine, then relax by yourself,” he gives back, because he’ll not be swayed.

He was looking forward to this fair, so there’s no way in hell that he’s going to allow Satoru to change his mind.

“You would just leave me here?” Satoru asks with a scandalised gasp and Suguru shrugs.

“Sure. You’re a grown up, you can handle being alone for a few hours.”

Suguru walks over to the door, before he throws a glance over his shoulder. “This is your last chance, Satoru.”

Satoru huffs and puffs for a short moment before he deflates.

“Alright, wait, I’ll get changed,” he mutters, just like Suguru knew he would and he shuffles out of the room.

Suguru will give him five minute to get changed, which will turn into fifteen at least, he just knows it, and by then it’ll already be half an hour later than he originally wanted to leave, but he has to admit that if he gets to spend that time with Satoru, then it’s well worth it.

~*~*~

Suguru and Satoru are comfortably stretched out on the bed, the TV running and a bag of snacks between them. It’s a bag so far only Suguru has reached into and he eyes Satoru curiously whenever he does it but Satoru doesn’t.

“What’s going on with you?” Suguru asks after the fourth time, because he knows for a fact that Satoru likes these snacks—otherwise Suguru wouldn’t have them in the first place—but still he doesn’t reach for them.

“What do you mean?” Satoru asks, not taking his eyes away from the screen and Suguru looks from the snack bag back to Satoru.

“You haven’t taken a single one yet,” he then explains and Satoru finally tears his attention away from whatever is happening on screen to look down at the bag.

“Yeah, don’t wanna,” he then shrugs off as if Suguru would believe that.

He saw Satoru’s hand twitch.

“Liar,” he immediately gives back. “Why are you being so difficult?”

“It’s hardly difficult of me to not eat snacks,” Satoru sniffs out and Suguru reaches over to poke Satoru in the side.

“Are you getting sick? Is this like with dogs, where the first sign of an impending illness is when they are refusing their favourite treat?”

“Hey, hey, stop that,” Satoru yells out and tries to avoid Suguru’s poking hand, not that he’s very successful with it.

“Then tell me what’s going on,” Suguru tries yet again, because this really is suspicious.

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just—” Satoru squirms away to get out of Suguru’ reach and Suguru allows it.

“It’s just what?”

He doesn’t know if he’s suspecting something borderline stupid to come out of Satoru’s mouth or if it’s going to be something serious—it’s always fifty-fifty with Satoru—and so he braces himself just in case.

“Shoko said I gained weight,” Satoru finally mutters, a faint flush on his face and he’s avoiding Suguru’s gaze. “And we wanted to go out to eat later. So, I’m just trying to not eat so much.”

Suguru blinks.

“That’s stupid,” he then decides and puts his hand to Satoru’s decidedly flat stomach. “Gained weight where? On your earlobe? Hell, I can still count your ribs like this, what in the hell is Shoko even on about?” Suguru demands to know and he tactfully doesn’t mention the fact that Satoru is being vain right now.

“I don’t know, she didn’t elaborate,” Satoru mumbles and Suguru shakes his head.

“Yeah, well, she’s clearly talking shit, I can tell you that. Now, this is your last chance to get some of these as well before I polish them all off,” Suguru then threatens, reaching for the bag again.

Satoru hesitates for a brief moment, before his hand flies out, clutching the bag to his chest.

“You promise I’m not fat?”

That makes Suguru outright laugh.

“Satoru, you’re a goddamn bean-pole. You’re not fat. You’re not even chubby. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Fine,” Satoru huffs out and then stuffs his hand wrist deep into the bag. “It’s all mine then.”

Suguru could fight him for it, but he finds that he doesn’t particularly want to. Right now he’s happier seeing Satoru munch away and he does not think too hard on the warm feeling that’s spreading in his chest.

~*~*~

Suguru feels as if he’s going to faint. His heart is beating so fast in his chest that he thinks it might just beat itself right out of its confines and it makes him vaguely sick.

In all honesty, there’s probably not much he actually has to fear; this is Satoru after all.

He trusts him to not let this change anything should his feelings be unreciprocated. 

And yet–

“Hey, you okay?” Satoru asks him, his head tilted slightly as if that would make things clearer. “You look kind of pale. Are the curses from yesterday still disagreeing with you?”

“It’s fine,” Suguru presses out and forces himself to take a deep breath. He promised himself he would tell Satoru about his feelings today. 

There’s no real reason for this date specifically, it’s just–he’s been pushing it off for so long now, and he just knows that if he doesn’t choose a specific date, he’s probably never going to do it.

“Something clearly is not fine,” Satoru gives back, because of course he would choose today of all days to not take Suguru at face value and Suguru sighs.

“There’s actually something I need to talk to you about. Well, tell you, more like,” he says, his voice faint and trembling and immediately he has all of Satoru’s considerate attention.

“Okay, hit me with it.” He seems eager to hear whatever it is Suguru has to say and now, finally, does the worry set in.

What if Satoru doesn’t like him like that? What if he laughs at him and avoids him and eases himself out of Suguru’s life? What if he reacts with disgust? Suguru doesn’t know if Satoru is into guys, after all, and now he laments the fact that he never even considered this.

He usually overthinks everything, how could he have not done it this time?

“Suguru, breathe,” Satoru warily tells him when Suguru is just about to hype himself into a panic attack and Suguru sucks in a reflexive breath.

“Are you sure you want to talk about whatever it is? It doesn’t seem like it to me,” Satoru carefully says once Suguru has his breathing back under control and Suguru squares his shoulders.

He has carried this with him for so long now, there’s no way he’s going to chicken out now.

“No, I am,” Suguru replies. “I gotta. Listen, I–” he hesitates again. “This is your last chance to back out,” is what comes out of his mouth next and Satoru’s lips reflexively curl into a smile at hearing the now so familiar sentence before he frowns again.

“Why would I back out if it’s something that’s bothering you? I can’t help if you don’t tell me what it is.”

“Oh man,” Suguru whispers, his heart fluttering dangerously in his chest and he reaches out to take Satoru’s hand in his.

He wishes their relationship was less touchy, so this would already hold meaning, but Satoru simply curls his fingers around Suguru’s, clearly not thinking twice about it.

“Okay, listen,” he tries again and he forces himself to look straight at Satoru. “I love you. I’m in love with you. Romantically.”

It takes everything in him to stop after that, to not ramble on and on and then laugh it off as a joke and he keeps his eyes on Satoru’s face because it’s not as if there’s a safe space to look anyway.

But thanks to that he sees Satoru’s brow furrow in confusion for a brief moment before his entire face lights up. His eyes even sparkle and Suguru wonders how the hell he does that.

“I’m in love with you, too!” Satoru then happily says and squeezes Suguru’s hand again. “This is what you were worried about?” he then asks and Suguru does feel a little bit silly for it, now, so he shrugs.

“Couldn’t have known,” he tells Satoru who shakes his head.

“Sure you could have. It’s us, Suguru. You’re my one and only, I’m not shy to say that and you really thought there was a chance that I wouldn’t feel that way?”

“You–could have meant that in a platonic way,” Suguru tries to argue even though he knows it’s futile and he doesn’t even know why he’s doing it in the first place.

After all, this is the outcome he really hoped for.

“Never,” Satoru says and steps close. His eyes drop to Suguru’s lips, his intent clear, and Suguru reflexively licks over them.

“This is your last chance to back out,” Satoru whispers, making Suguru huff out a laugh with that and when Satoru smiles in response Suguru closes the last bit of distance between them. 

It’s just a brief kiss and yet it makes Suguru feel happy and light in a way he has never known before and when he moves back he sees the same blissed out expression on Satoru’s face.

He guesses it’s safe to assume that they will be doing this a lot, and Suguru really sees no reason at all to mind that. 

[somer-writes]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Four & Hyrule & Legend & Sky & Time & Twilight & Warriors & Wild & Wind (Linked Universe), Legend & Warriors (Linked Universe), Hyrule & Legend (Linked Universe), Time & Warriors & Wind (Linked Universe), Twilight & Wild (Linked Universe), Time & Twilight (Linked Universe) Characters: Four (Linked Universe), Hyrule (Linked Universe), Link (Legend of Zelda), Sky (Linked Universe), Time (Linked Universe), Twilight (Linked Universe), Warriors (Linked Universe), Wild (Linked Universe), Wind (Linked Universe), Wolfie (Linked Universe) Additional Tags: Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), June of Doom 2024, Rage, Paranoia, Choking, Betrayal, Mental Breakdown, Blood and Violence, Blood and Injury, Stabbing, Fist Fights, Conspiracy, Warriors (Linked Universe)-centric, Warriors (Linked Universe) Has a Bad Time, Warriors (Linked Universe) Angst, Warriors (Linked Universe) Has PTSD, Legend (Linked Universe) Has a Bad Time, Protective Sky (Linked Universe), Protective Hyrule (Linked Unvierse), Protective Wild (Linked Universe), Parental Time (Linked Universe), Protective Twilight (Linked Universe), Good Sibling Wind (Linked Universe), Twilight (Linked Universe) Has a Bad Time, Wolf Twilight (Linked Universe) Series: Part 26 of Writer's Execution Block || June of Doom 2024 Summary:

The war left Warriors with permanent scars. His paranoia makes his bad day everybody's bad day.

--

this has just been in revision since yesterday morning bc i am so good at doing things on time

anyway this one is day 26!

i hope you like warriors being the Moment and Drama

[juneofdoom]

Ze End!! 💣💥

Doomers! Congrats on making it through June of Doom 2024!

Our AO3 collection has a whopping 255 works in 113 fandoms! That is insane to me (last year was 31 works in 25 fandoms)! I'll keep it open for a bit longer and warn you when it will close.

On tumblr, I reblogged 801 works by 64 participants! I'm so proud of all of you and the hurtin' you dealt out to your blorbos, whether you did one, some, or all of the prompts — or life got in the way/ you got a late start and you're still making your way through the list!

But for those of you who did 30 prompts in 30 days, congrats on being a 2024 June of Doom Completionist:

@astaldis

@autobot2001

@bleeding-handprints

@bloody-bee-tea

@candyfloss-kittens

@crimsonlyinglilly

@daryfromthefuture 🎖️

@evangeliamerryll

@firlalaith

@hummingbird-of-light 🎖️

@kamryn1963

@serickswrites 🎖️

@starry-night-author 🎖️

@tafeekafee

@tildeathiwillwrite

@waywardwizzard

🎖️ denotes second year completionist!

If your name is not on this list and you feel it should be, it's entirely possible I made an error, so just let me know!

You guys made this such a successful challenge! Thank you so much for participating! As a treat, I will divulge that I already have next year's list ready to go, so:

Thanks again, guys! I'll reblog your submissions so long as you keep tagging @juneofdoom! See you all next summer! :D

[serickswrites]

I Don't Feel So Good

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, electrocution, rescue, hospital, cardiac arrest, cpr, unclear character status, forced to watch

"I....I don't feel so good, C-C-Caretaker," Whumpee said as they slumped over in their chair. "D-D-Dizzy."

"It's ok, Whumpee. Help is here. Hold on. Just hold on," Caretaker said, wishing they could slip the cuffs that kept them away from Whumpee.

Time passed strangely for Caretaker. It seemed as though time had frozen when Whumper was in the room with them. But then time passed swiftly when Whumper had left them alone for an hour. And now, time seemed distorted, speeding up and slowing down. It had been torture watching Whumper spend the last hour shocking Whumpee with the car battery. And now that help had arrived, the waiting was torture.

Whumper had rushed from the room, leaving Whumpee still hooked up to the battery, when the sound of a door giving way startled the three of them. "Help is here, Whumpee. We're saved. Help is here."

Caretaker repeated it over and over as they watched Whumpee struggle to breathe. They opened their mouth to say something, but a group of people rushed into the room. Time seemed to jump for Caretaker, the rescuer's movements disjointed and fast. Before Caretaker could say much, they found themself in the back of an ambulance with Whumpee, rushing to the emergency room.

Whumpee lay on the gurney, their face pale and drawn with pain. The paramedic quickly hooked Whumpee up to various leads and monitors. Caretaker squeezed Whumpee's hand tightly. "You're going to be ok. They're taking us to get you checked out, you're going to be ok." Time was slow in the ambulance. Time was too slow. Whumpee needed help. But the ambulance seemed frozen in time for Caretaker.

A monitor screamed a warning and the paramedic looked up. They called to their partner, "They're in V-Fib. I'm going to defibrillate."

Caretaker's heart began to pound. Whumpee was getting worse. "Please, stay with me, Whumpee."

"I need you to step back, Caretaker," the paramedic said as they attached the sticky patches to Whumpee's chest. "Let me take care of them."

Whumpee's eyes frantically searched for Caretaker's as Caretaker pulled away. "I'm right here. You're going to be ok, Whumpee. You're going to be ok."

The paramedic took the paddles and paused before placing them on Whumpee's chest. "Whumpee, I know you're not feeling very good right now. This isn't going to feel great either. But your heart is beating in a rhythm that isn't good or sustainable. I'm going to try and shock you back into the correct rhythm."

Whumpee nodded their understanding, though their eyes were beginning to get hazy.

"Stay with me, Whumpee. You're going to be ok," Caretaker murmured as they started to reach for Whumpee again.

"Clear!" The paramedic said as they pressed the paddles to Whumpee's chest. Caretaker quickly yanked their hand back to avoid being shocked.

Whumpee's body convulsed with the shock. The paramedic watched the monitor. "I'm going to shock you again, Whumpee. Your heart rhythm isn't quite where it should be."

Whumpee nodded weakly, blinking their eyes slowly. "Clear!" the paramedic said as they deployed the paddles once more.

Caretaker held their breath as they watched Whumpee's body move. The monitor continued with the same sound, the same warning alarm that Whumpee's heart wasn't cooperating.

"Clear!" the Paramedic said again.

But as they started to deploy the paddles once more, Caretaker's stomach dropped as they heard the monitor let one continuous streak and the line that had been erratic mirroring Whumpee's heart beat became flat.

"Asystole," the paramedic called out, putting the paddles back onto the machine, "starting compressions."

Caretaker couldn't breathe around the terror gripping them as they watched the paramedic begin compressions on Whumpee. Couldn't breathe around the terror gripping them as the ambulance stopped, pulling into a med bay. Couldn't breathe around the terror gripping them as they stared into Whumpee's half lidded, empty eyes.

"Come on, breathe, Whumpee. Breathe, damn it!" The paramedic said as they continued to pound on Whumpee's chest.

Caretaker started to reach out to Whumpee, to take Whumpee's hand in theirs. Started to reach out to beg Whumpee to breathe, to stay with them. Started to reach out to try and bring Whumpee back to them. But as their fingertips brushed Whumpee's, the door to the ambulance swung open and they were swarmed by the medical team.

Whumpee was wheeled away from them before they could say or do anything. Wheeled away with the medic still performing CPR. Wheeled away to somewhere Caretaker couldn't go.

Caretaker began to sob as they realized Whumpee might be gone. Might be gone to somewhere permanently. Might be....dead.

Caretaker jumped as a nurse put a hand on their shoulder. "Caretaker," they said softly, "let's take a look at you."

"They....they need help," Caretaker whispered, unable to say the words that they feared were true.

"Whumpee has a great medical team looking after them. Let's get you looked at and then I can find out how Whumpee's doing, is that ok?"

"Whumpee....Whumpee needs me. Please, they need me. I need them." Caretaker started forward to try and follow, but the nurse's hand on their shoulder made them stop.

"Whumpee has all the medical team they need. You need to be looked at. Let the doctors do their job with Whumpee. And let me help you. Then I'll look in on Whumpee, ok?" Their voice was calm and soothing.

But Caretaker didn't want to be soothed. Whumpee had been hurt because of them. Had continued to be hurt because of them. They hadn't been able to do anything to help Whumpee. Hadn't been able to get help, escape, or save Whumpee.

And now....And now, Whumpee's heart had stopped beating. Whumpee was.....dead.

"Please, they can't die. Please. Don't let them die," Caretaker said, tears streaming down their face.

"We won't let them die, Caretaker. We're working on bringing them back. Now let's take a look to make sure you're ok."

[sufrimientilia]

"Help me."

Failed Escape | On the Run | alt prompt: “Who did this to you?” @juneofdoom Day 1

cw: referenced captivity, noncon drugging, violent death, mind control, see above

His breath came harsh and fast, pulse beating high in his throat. He didn’t have enough blood in his body for this type of exertion, but it didn’t matter. He pushed and pushed, kept running even if he could barely see straight, fueled by nothing but spite and desperation and the sheer panic buried deep in his bones.

The hypnosis was usually enough to keep him from even considering it. The chronic blood loss prevented the rest. There hadn’t been a day in weeks where he had been lucid enough, and able to walk, and completely alone all at the same time. This had been his only chance. He wasn’t about to fuck it up.

The village wasn’t far. He had counted the seconds from the car rides down winding roads, every turn made past the sounds of civilization, every step he needed to make to get back. He thought about the way to freedom every time he could think, and right now it was the only thing rushing through his mind. Freedom, freedom, freedom.

Glass doors burst open. The chime of hanging bells gave a cheery announcement of his entrance despite just how erratic he looked—whipped by branches, disheveled by wind. Pale and sweaty and trembling all over. “Help-“ he gasped out, barely able to catch his own breath. “Help me. Please. I… Do you-… do you have a phone?”

It was a little after sunrise, probably just minutes after the quaint diner opened, and there were only two, three people there: a waitress, a cook, and some man at the counter with freshly poured mug of coffee. For a split second, they all stared at him like he was batshit insane.

The waitress was the first to react in earnest. “Oh my, dear— are you alright?” She set aside the pot she was carrying and moved around the counter with a cautious sort of haste. Like approaching a skittish animal. “What’s goin’ on?”

He knew what they all saw. Wild eyes, pale sunken skin, those garish bite marks and bruises and friction burns all up and down his arms and neck. He didn’t think about grabbing something at least long-sleeved before taking off. “I just… I need to make a call. Please.”

“Why don’t you take a seat, son?” The man sitting at the counter suggested, concern written into his weathered gaze.

It was refreshing to be around genuine empathy— so refreshing it caught him off balance, had him staggering forward until the waitress reached her hands out to stop him, his breaths so ragged and weary he could barely catch up. He didn’t fight as kind hands directed him into the nearest booth and dark spots scattered all over, noises going muffled in one giant roar. His elbow caught the edge of the table and he ducked his head. “Sorry… m’sorry.”

Maybe he wasn’t as ready for this as he thought. Still, he’d made it this far, and this seemed like far enough. For now.

“…how…for help…him some water…” Voices floated down from somewhere overhead, a broken frequency of noise fading in and out.

He needed to get himself together. Slow long breaths, his pulse slowing down. In and out, in and out. He wasn’t sure how much time passed until a glass of water was placed in front of him, but he took it with shaking fingers and guzzled it down in one go. More fluids in his body was a good thing right now.

“Who are you runnin’ from? Hmm?” The man was somewhere next to him now, offering that overbearingly concerned took and prodding for information like he had asked a few times over. “Talk to me, boy. Who did this to you?”

“Someone bad,” he breathed out, and then he shook his head. He couldn’t say more than that. “A phone… please. I jus’ gotta make one call.”

“We’re gettin’ you some help now, don’t worry.” The man was trying to be reassuring, but he was too close, too close too close too close too close—

He looked up and saw the waitress standing somewhere further back with the cook. She was talking on the phone. Maybe they were doing the reasonable thing and calling 9-1-1, which really wouldn’t be the worst idea… except it was immediately clear they weren’t.

Call him paranoid. But he’d been in captivity long enough to distrust faster than he could catch his own senses.

he’s here he’s here he’s here

He pushed to a stand. “Fuck—”

“Woah, hold on now—“

He shoved past the man and stumbled out of the booth. “No, no! I can’t stay here… I can’t…” Everything tilted one way, and then the another. He staggered in tandem and just barely caught the nearest table for support, clashing into some chairs. “What the—“

The lights brightened into slim glittery bursts. Everything slowed to a blurry haze.

Oh. The water.

The man caught his shoulders when he swayed all the way sideways. “Careful now. Jeez, you really ain’t well. Just take a seat, alright?”

“Jus’ lemme go,” he protested, words coming out heavy and uncoordinated. Like swimming through syrup thick in the air and thick in his veins.

“Of course. I understand.” The waitress’s voice floated closer, so calm and pleasant. She was still on the phone. “Yes, we’ve got the situation under control.”

“Under control? I think he needs an ambulance!” The man demanded. “Who are you talkin’ to?”

It took one horrifying realization and the next to piece together that the man really did have good intentions here.

The man was the only one with good intentions.

The waitress moved in one smooth motion and stabbed the man in the throat with a kitchen knife. Her chirpy attitude didn’t skip a beat, smiling wide as he went toppling over and crashing into the tables, one ugly gurgle following him on the way down. She had that same dumbass head-in-the-clouds look that usually came with a vampire’s compulsion. “Of course, Mistress. I’ll keep him safe in the meantime.”

“Ffu- fuck,” he sputtered out, lurching back so suddenly that the only direction was down, down, down. Hard cold tile against his face.

The waitress wrapped up her phone call, and then her voice floated from somewhere overhead. "Careful now. Let's get him somewhere comfortable."

He tried to drag himself away from the reach of grabbing hands. Like paddling through the deep end. "No..."

Of course. Of course of course of course she’d have the entire town hypnotized. The locals, not the poor randoms passing through— not that writhing heap of limbs down here on the ground with him, blood going slick and sticky over tile.

He should’ve known. He should’ve kept going.

The thought floated away from him. Everything floated away, became distorted and indistinct, so heavy and muddled it no longer made sense. Hands pulling him somewhere, streams of color dragging into tails, warmth drifting sideways slipping sinking buried into darkness.

Darkness that lingered, festered, and receded right back into her arms.

Like he could ever get away.

[silencedvoices]

June of Doom Day 1

"Help me." | Failed escape | On the run | Fetal Position

Cw: medical whump, needles, restraints

Whumpee contently sighs while slowly opening their eyes, squinting at the bright hospital lights. Their eyes widen as they see an IV sticking out of their arm.

Nononono. This cannot be happening again.

Whumpee starts hyperventilating, tears welling up in their eyes. Without a second thought they reach to pull the needle out, but their arms won't move. They look closer to see they are tied down to the bed. They start thrashing around frantically trying to escape the restraints.

"Where am I?" They couldn't possibly be back with whumper. "Help me!"

Caretaker comes running into the room. Their heart drops as they see whumpee thrashing around with a look of pure terror on their tear streaked face.

"What's wrong whumpee? You're in the hospital, you're safe." Caretaker runs over to whumpee's bedside gently pushing the hair out of their face.

"W-why is there an IV? Why am I tied down?" Whumpee's voice breaks, trying but failing to hold back their tears.

Caretaker grabs whumpees hand, gently rubbing circles on their palm. "I know you hate needles, but you need the IV to stay healthy. I didn't want to have to tie you down either, but everytime you wake up you keep trying to pull the IV out and escape. Don't worry. It's for your own safety ."

"So you're sure you're not drugging me or anything."

"No whumpee, of course not."

"I promise I'll be good. Just- take the restraints off. Please? It... reminds me too much of whumper."

Caretaker's heart breaks again at that. They don't understand what kind of monster could hurt whumpee like this. "I'm sorry but the doctor said to leave them on until we can be sure you won't act out. Can I trust you won't try to run out again?"

"Yes. I won't try anything again."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."

Caretaker sighs, "Okay."

Whumpee calms down quickly as caretaker undoes the restraints. Whumpee is still frightened by the IV, but they tell themself they'll get used to it eventually.

"Thank you caretaker," whumpee says with a wobbly smile.

Caretaker smiles back warmly.

Whumpee curls into a ball under the sheets, careful not to mess with the IV. Caretaker stays by their side running their fingers through whumpee's hair until they fall into a peaceful sleep. This is going to be a long recovery, but caretaker promises to be by whumpee's side every step of the way.

[montammil]

June of Doom Day 3 - "Well, well, well..."

| Hiding | Ambushed | Stalking |

Characters: Lawrence, Marshall

CW: Parental/yandere whumper, failed escape, manipulation, forming stockholm syndrome, minor injuries, infantilization

...

Marshall didn't know how he managed to do it, it was probably just pure luck on his side, but he managed to slip out of the house while Lawrence was asleep.

It was the perfect time to finally run away, especially since the older man would be groggy and confused in the morning. And hopefully by then, he'd be long gone from Lawrence's clutches.

The rain beat down on him for hours, but he didn't take shelter or more than a five minute break.

He needed to get as far as he could from Lawrence before the sun rose. Marshall shoved his hands deeper in his pockets to protect them from the icy cold, feeling the water seep through the thin fabric of his shirt.

This was a bad idea, a really bad idea.

But if it meant his freedom, he'd suffer through anything. He'd endure any torture to escape him.

He had no money, no way of getting any, and nowhere to stay for the night. Everything was dependent on a miracle now. It wasn't the smartest plan, but he had to take advantage of the only window of opportunity he was given. As long as Lawrence couldn't find him, he'd be fine. He could figure everything else out in time. Maybe he'd get a job, go back to school, start fresh somewhere else...

Despite his excitement, his heart weighed him down with guilt. He really shouldn't be abandoning Lawrence after everything he's done for him.

The blond loved him more than anything, and he betrayed that love by running.

Yet this was for the best, he told himself. It's the only way he'd be able to live his own life independently. And that's what he wanted.

Or so he insisted to himself.

It was past sunrise when he noticed a tiny gas station ahead of him. He rubbed his arms to bring some warmth to his skin. He was hungry, cold, and exhausted, which was an awful combination to have.

The rain had eased up to a slight drizzle, which provided little relief from the frigid weather. He trudged along, trying his best not to get hypothermia.

"I need help," he breathed to the man at the front, who only looked the slightest bit concerned. "Do you, um, have a phone? It's urgent."

The man opened his mouth, and then paused to look him over. "Sorry, only employees can use the phone. Do you want me to call someone for you?"

Marshall was baffled from his reply, but he didn't have time to get angry right now. He didn't want the police involved, he just wanted a ride to get out of here. He was glad he memorized his father's number--his real father--and gave it to the worker. He made a hand gesture for him to go sit down on one of the chairs a few feet away, and he reluctantly obeyed.

He noticed the man's voice was almost hushed, but he made out the words, "your kid is here", so he relaxed. He stared up at the clock above the counter, watching the seconds tick by.

He bounced his leg to keep himself from nodding off. His eyelids felt like a thousand pounds, threatening to close.

All he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep and forget about all this bullshit.

Marshall didn't know how much time had passed, but then he saw a familiar car pull up at the gas station, but it wasn't his dad's car.

Lawrence got out of the car, looking every part of pissed. He was dressed in nothing but a sweater and sweats, obviously not prepared to come out here.

The blond stormed inside the shop. Marshall straightened and gulped, wanting to shrink back further into the chair.

The bell rang loudly over their heads. "Well, well, well," Lawrence seethed. He stood in front of Marshall, glaring down at him. His body trembled. "Where did you think you were going, hmm?" He reached down and grabbed his wrist. Marshall squeaked in protest. Lawrence glanced over at the employee. "Thanks, Colin, I'll take it from here."

Colin nodded. Lawrence pulled him up, who fought him the entire way. He was frozen, unable to form a single word as he dragged him outside.

Marshall managed to squeeze his wrist out of Lawrence's grip and staggered backwards. Lawrence stepped towards him in attempt to grab him again, and Marshall's hand acted on its own, punching him right in the jaw.

A few painful moments went by before the reality of the situation hit him. Lawrence cupped his chin, rubbing his sore jaw. Marshall covered his mouth with his hand. That was probably a bigger death wish than running in the first place.

When Lawrence growled, somehow more rage evident in his eyes, Marshall bolted to the nearby trees.

He ran as fast as he could, ignoring his body's protests against the exhaustion. His head ached, his lungs burned, his muscles throbbed...but all he could focus on was his impending doom.

He jumped over bushes and logs, dodging branches and rocks as they flew by. The thudding of Lawrence's shoes followed him from behind.

At one point, Marshall tripped over a branch hidden beneath the leaves. He screamed as he went down, clutching his ankle in pain. He could feel blood trickling down his cheek as he turned, spotting Lawrence stalking forward. Marshall got back to his feet and ran again, screaming when the pain shot through his ankle once he put pressure on it.

There was no winning this race. He wasn't fast enough or strong enough. This was always how it'd end.

He ducked behind a tree and crouched low behind the bushes. He listened to the sounds of the forest, hearing Lawrence call his name. Marshall wrapped his arms around his knees and hugged his legs to his chest.

"This isn't funny, sweetie! Just come home already, it's too dangerous out here."

Yeah right, Marshall thought. It was safer out here than being with him.

"Marshmallow!" Lawrence sang. He sounded more gentle now. Lawrence knew how to get to him. Nathan responded best to his anger, Sadie responded to his worry, and Marshall responded to softness. "If you come out, we can just go home and talk this over. We'll watch a movie and snuggle, I'll even let you pick. We can make a blanket fort and have some hot cocoa. And I won't be mad, I promise."

His head throbbed. His stomach dropped as he heard the crunch of Lawrence's footsteps getting closer. It's been so long since he's heard anything other than his voice.

"You know," Lawrence continued, "it isn't very nice to hit me. I'm willing to let it go since I know you were just scared, but only if you come out right now."

Lawrence knew how to play him like an instrument. Each sentence was calculated and precise, knowing exactly what buttons to press.

Logically, Marshall knew he could only hide here for so long. Lawrence knew he was in the area and he wouldn't back off until he found him. He'd rather just give up now than prolong this agony.

He wiped his eyes, the fear spiking each second he waited. Finally, he called out, "I-I'm over here!"

Lawrence found him crouched next to a large pine tree. The moment his eyes met the older man, the tears poured down. He could hear Lawrence sigh with relief. He bent down on one knee.

"Oh, kiddo, there you are." He pulled him into his arms. Marshall tried pushing against his chest to get away, but Lawrence's embrace tightened. He choked on a sob. Lawrence cooed to him, rocking him in his arms. "Shh, you're alright, don't cry. It's okay, I got you now. Let's get out of here, okay? You must be freezing."

"Are you mad at me?" he croaked. He pulled away and cried harder when he saw the forming bruise on his face that would no doubt look much worse later. He had no idea he was capable of such strength, and neither did Lawrence.

"I'm not mad. You listened to me, so there's gonna be no punishment, I promise," Lawrence told him. He cupped his cheek to bring their eyes together. "I've just never been more worried. What if something happened to you? Did you ever think about that?" Marshall remained silent. Lawrence sighed. "We're going home. And then we'll talk about it more after we get you warmed up and that ankle taken care of."

It was useless to argue. He let the blond carry him to the car and closed his tired eyes. It was times like these that Marshall started to wonder if Lawrence was really that bad.

[starryybrained]

JuneofDoom Day 19 - “This can’t be happening!”/Sobbing

Part two of two - Reverb gets exactly what’s coming to him… but he also gets a second chance. (Previous.)

Content: Demon whumpee, whumper-turned-whumpee, whumpee-turned-whumper, demon hunter whumper, female whumper, forced transformation, forced humanization, threatening to kill, gun use

The gun fired, blinding him with a flash of light and throwing Reverb backwards into the wall behind him. He was left in a crumpled heap on the ground. The hunter had fallen to the ground too, but she’d fallen in the way someone who knows how to break their fall does, and returned to her feet in the blink of an eye.

Reverb choked, trying to ask What the fuck was that? — but nothing came out of his mouth. His wings twitched, and the skin between them felt stretched too tight, wrong.

“Uhh..nnghhh..”

His entire body was too small, prickling and twisting and he couldn’t move during it all, he could only watch as his talons shrank away, as his tail disappeared and he lost feeling in his wings, as every little thing that made him him vanished.

Everything became duller, muted. Fuzzy.

He brought a heavy hand to his face, feeling his cheek. It was soft and squishy. Fleshy. He felt his scalp. There was hair there now — and where were his horns!

No, no… this couldn’t be happening —

No fangs, brownish skin, dulled senses, short nails —

The hunter had made him human.

He gasped for air.

… Air?!— He even had to breathe now?

He coughed, gasping for more.

“Wha.. th’ffuck?!” He tried to say, unused to using muscles that were supposed to be his own.

He lifted himself up with shaky arms, looking up.

Holy shit. Holy shit.

The hunter was right there.

His heart beat faster and faster, and he breathed harder, his head spinning from how fast he was taking in oxygen. Reverb felt as though his ribcage was going to break.

The hunter looked down on him.

“Say, maybe I’ll give you a chance — I count down from ten, you run for your life, and if I don’t find you afterwards, then you get to live.”

“Got it?”

Reverb sat on the ground, staring up at her, pathetic in the way he backed away.

Everything shook. He didn’t even nod. He bolted.

The hunter watched him go.

“One.”

Reverb stumbled, not used to running. He couldn’t take flight and it was an awful feeling, being stuck to the ground.

“Two.”

He could still hear her voice. Dammit, he wasn’t far enough —

He scrambled past a dumpster, wondering if that would be a good hiding place but discarding the thought. He ran out into the street, dodging cars and weaving through the city.

“Three.”

He could barely hear her voice anymore, but the countdown continued in his mind. He pushed through pedestrians on the sidewalk who were still out at this hour, ignoring their angry shouts. Who cared that he was inconveniencing them anyway?

Four.

He was sure he’d lost her now. But how sure could he really be? … He continued running, aimless, deeper into the city.

Five.

He’d slammed into a lamppost.

Six.

He held his head, aching.

Seven.

Shit, it hurt!—

Eight.

He turned and on a whim, entered a bar, still clutching his head, avoiding the windows.

Nine.

The door closed with a thud, and he pressed his way deeper inside, desperate.

Ten.

He held his breath.

Nothing happened.

He stumbled his way further into the building, entering the bathrooms and locking himself in one of the rooms.

When he did, he could glimpse a reflection of himself in the mirror.

His breathing quickened again.

He looked disgusting. Pathetic and disheveled and filled with terror.

Something tightened in his throat.

… Reverb watched as the version of him in the mirror started crying.

His vision blurred, and he grabbed his chest as it heaved, sucking in deep breaths, sobs leaving his mouth.

Oh god.

He shuddered, sniffling.

He was stuck like this.

[cuddlepilefics]

“I’m fine” - juneofdoom day 18

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Jihoon

Caregivers: Seungcheol

Prompt: headache @juneofdoom

Tw: emeto

No one’s POV.:

Late nights at the studio were Jihoon’s thing. At least, that was what the producer tried to convince himself of as he punched in the code to unlock his studio. They had just finished a group dance practice session and while the members headed to their respective dorms, Jihoon had a couple more hours of work before him. His sweaty practice clothes still clung to his skin and he shivered when the air-conditioning blew a cold gust of wind down on him. Yeah, he should change into some clean clothes first even if his shower would have to wait till he’d get home. This was neither the first, nor would it be the last time, so Jihoon had prepared a sports bag filled with clean clothes and snacks, which he always kept at the studio for nights like this.

Feeling a little less disgusting now that he was wearing something clean, Jihoon plopped down in his seat and winced. The impact had sent waves of pain through his skull, reminding him of the headache he had been nursing since shortly after lunch. With a heavy sigh, he leant against the backrest and waited for his computer to load the last track he had been working on. The shrill ringing of his phone cut through his tired haze and he sluggishly picked the device up, already rolling his eyes when he realized it was Seungcheol calling. The leader would probably scold him for working late, despite knowing full well that their groups success depended on it.

“I just realized, I didn’t see you leave with the others”, Seungcheol stated neutrally. Massaging the spot between his brows, Jihoon muttered: “Nice observation, hyung.” – “Are you working late again?”, the older frowned. Jihoon furrowed his brows. If he didn’t leave the company building yet, what else would he be doing there? “Nah, not today, hyung”, the producer hummed, “Some of the decorative plants in the hallway on the studio floor looked a little wilted yesterday, so I thought I’d stop by today to check on them. Maybe they need some more water or just somebody talking to them.”

Jihoon wasn’t sure whether the call had disconnected or if he had just stunned Seungcheol into silence. That question was answered when the leader cleared his throat and muttered: “Those are plastic plants, please don’t water them.” Jihoon dropped his pounding head into his hands and waited for his hyung to say anything else. He knew it was disrespectful to be this sarcastic when Seungcheol only wanted to check on him but he was tired, his head hurt and he had no patience for people stating the obvious. “Are you okay?”, the leader finally asked, “Either you’re upset with me or you’re so out of it that you’re hallucinating and actually want to talk to those fake plants.” – “I’m fine”, Jihoon sighed, “No, I am not upset with you, just frustrated and no, I do not want to talk to those plants. Hyung, I don’t enjoy staying late either, so if you don’t mind, let me please get to work because the sooner I start, the sooner I’ll be done.” – “Sorry”, Seungcheol hummed, “I just didn’t think you’d go tonight. You looked really exhausted earlier and if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve guessed you have a headache.”

Realizing how genuinely concerned the older way, Jihoon couldn’t help but feel guilty. He bit his lip and admitted: “Yeah, I have a headache and I am pretty tired but I’m fine, I just need some caffeine. There’s still some coke in the mini fridge, which should get me through the next couple of hours and then I’ll take the shower I’m craving right now.” Seungcheol knew there was no point in arguing and felt a little guilty himself because he knew that their group had only made it this far thanks to Jihoon’s hard work. His dongsaeng was struggling, that much was obvious and it shouldn’t be all on his shoulders. As the leader, Seungcheol felt that it should be his burden to carry but what could he do? He might check on Jihoon in and hour or two to see whether he was heading back though it might get on the producer’s nerves, Seungcheol wanted to make sure that by “the next couple hours” Jihoon wasn’t talking about five hours. It wasn’t like he hadn’t pulled that on previous occasions.

When the call ended, Jihoon muted his phone. He couldn’t afford anymore disturbances because he really wanted to get home soon. The headache was bothering him more than he wanted to admit and finally got himself a bottle of coke, hoping the caffeine fix would take the edge off and make him a little more functional. At least, he wouldn’t have to fight for his turn to shower because everyone else would be asleep by the time he’d get home.

A shudder ran down his back as he took the first sip, the drink so cold that the bottle was immediately covered in little droplets of condensation. Even if the caffeine wouldn’t kick in fast enough to wake him up, the cold surely did, so hr immediately got to work, trying to ignore how badly the screen made his eyes burn. Eager to ease his headache, Jihoon drank his coke quickly and retrieved a second bottle, despite the goosebumps covering his arms. The liquid sloshed uncomfortably in his stomach but he was too tired to care, stifling a breathy burp behind his fist. Ugh, fizzy drinks…. Unable to get his tired mind to focus, the producer quickly lost track of time, frustrated because his work was slow-going.

By the time he had finished up his second bottle of coke, Jihoon’s stomach was more than just a little upset gurgling audibly when he shifted in his seat trying to find a somewhat comfortable position. Not wanting to take any chances, the producer had even pulled the waste bin from under his desk, keeping it right next to his chair for quick access. He tried to burp in hopes of alleviating some of the pressure in his stomach but it only left a sour taste on his tongue, making him feel queasier by the minutes. Unable to stand the pain any longer, Jihoon saved his work and shut off the screen, which immediately dimmed the room a bit, allowing him to rest his eyes. He crossed his arms on the desk and laid his head on them. Taking slow deep breaths, Jihoon tried to quell the rising nausea. He was too tired to deal with being sick right now.

Jihoon didn’t get much of say in that though, soon finding himself burping over the waste bin. A sharp gag sent flashes of pain through his skull and he broke into a sweat despite feeling chilled to the bone. Choking up two large waves of coke, Jihoon could only cradle his head and try to ride out the pain as time seemed to stretch on endlessly. His stomach kept churning and he teared up a little when he lifted his head to glance at the clock. It had already gotten so freaking late without him actually having achieved much, so this misery hadn’t even really been worth it. The heaves just wouldn’t seem to stop, though Jihoon barely managed to bring anything up anymore. He allowed himself a few quiet tears as he leant back in his seat, trying to recover.

His phone cut through the silence like a knife and Jihoon had to suppress the urge to cover his ears and reject the call. Hadn’t he made it clear that he didn’t want to be bothered? Gritting his teeth, the producer picked up the call, his shoulders slumping when he heard Seungcheol’s soft voice on the other end of the line. Suddenly, Jihoon couldn’t be upset over the disturbance anymore, his resolve crumbling when the leader asked him if he was still okay and if he was planning to head home soon.

Seungcheol had fully expected another snappy “I’m fine!”, so when the younger weakly muttered: “I-I, I dunno, hyung”, he immediately knew that something was seriously wrong. He was already putting on his shoes when he promised Jihoon: “I’ll come pick you up. Already heading out. Just wait for me, yeah?” The producer hummed hoarsely voice strained from throwing up. At least, he wouldn’t have to figure out hos to get his sorry ass home.

Jihoon drifted in and out of sleep as he rested his head on his arms, so he had no idea how long it had been since their call and couldn’t even be certain if the call had happened or if his hazy mind had made it up. A gentle hand on his back woke him and he almost teared up again when he found his hyung standing over him. “Why didn’t you mention being sick?”, Seungcheol asked quietly, pulling the other’s long hair out of his face to get a proper look at him. Sitting up with a groan, Jihoon rasped: “Don’t think I’m sick sick. Probably just pushed myself too hard and drank too much coke to make me function. My stomach wasn’t happy about it at all and my head’s still killing me.” – “I mean, you don’t have a fever”, the leader hummed, palm resting flat against Jihoon’s forehead, “You certainly do look awful though. How does your stomach feel now?” – “Still meh but I don’t think I’m seconds away from puking anymore”, the producer breathed.

Seungcheol had gotten him some water to sip on, while the leader took out the trash and packed up his things. “My brother’s out of town this week, so I could take you home with me”, Seungcheol offered, already slinging his dongsaeng’s bag over his shoulder, “I could also drive you back to your dorm but I figured you might want to be miserable in peace.” – “God, yes please”, Jihoon muttered, making the older laugh. “Just hyung is fine”, the leader joked, offering the other his arm, “Come on, up you go. I bet you’re still craving that shower you were talking about earlier. You can go and wash up as soon as we get there and I’ll fetch you some medicine and a set of comfortable clothes to borrow.”

A pained sound slipped from Jihoon’s lips as he struggled to his feet, vision growing fuzzy for a few seconds. He clung to Seungcheol’s shoulder, the leader ready to pick up the bin in case he needed to be sick again. “You good?”, the older asked worriedly, holding onto Jihoon’s arms. Giving a weak nod, the other forced out: “I’m fine. Let’s get going because I really am craving that shower. Gosh, I feel disgusting.” Seungcheol rolled his eyes at his dongsaeng’s persistence to claim he was fine when they both knew the truth but he saw no point in arguing. Linking their arms, the leader guided Jihoon to the car and settled him in the passenger seat with a plastic shopping bag in his lap though he prayed it wouldn’t be needed.

Luckily, it wasn’t. They did manage to reach their destination but no sooner than the car came to a halt, Jihoon threw open the door and immediately coughed up a few mouthful of bile. Switching off the engine, Seungcheol leant over and patted the younger’s back. It was hard to believe that Jihoon was only overworked and not really sick but he always pushed his body beyond its limits, so maybe overworking could leave someone this miserable. “Let’s get you upstairs. Can you walk or do you want to get on my back?”, the leader offered. He doubted that Jihoon would be comfortable with being carried but he also didn’t look like he had the energy to walk.

After a tense moment of silence Jihoon rasped: “Never mention this to anyone ever.” Seungcheol had to suppress a chuckle because the younger looked like a baby kitten attempting to seem intimidating. “I won’t”, the leader promised as he rounded the car, “Here, try to step around it and climb onto my back.” Almost tripping over his own feet, Jihoon stumbled and crashed into his hyung’s chest. The older didn’t comment on it though and carefully pulled him onto his back.

Gently pushing Jihoon towards the bathroom, Seungcheol hummed: “Go wash up. I’ll bring you a fresh set of clothes.” He had already talked to hi brother on the phone and got permission to sleep on his room, so he could give his own bed to Jihoon. After placing sweatpants and an oversized hoodie onto the sink, Seungcheol set his room up with fresh sheets and a lined trashcan, leaving a bottle of water on the nightstand. He really wanted to offer Jihoon some painkillers for his headache but they weren’t supposed to be taken on an empty stomach and he couldn’t imagine the younger being able to stomach anything right now. An icepack for his forehead would have to do.

Seungcheol was already waiting with an icepack and a cup of ginger tea when Jihoon sleepily shuffled from the bathroom. “Hey, I made tea to settle your stomach. Didn’t think painkillers would do your stomach any favor right now, so I thought we could try the icepack first”, the older explained, handing Jihoon the cup, “I moved my stuff to my brother’s room, so you’ll be staying in my room to night. Let’s go to bed now, yeah? You look wiped.” – “You shouldn’t have to stay in your brother’s room, hyung. I could just take the couch”, the younger mumbled but was shushed softly. “He’s fine with it and I don’t mind either”, Seungcheol smiled, “Our couch might look fancy but it’s not really comfortable. You’d be really sore tomorrow, which I can imagine you already are, so we shouldn’t make it worse.”

That wasn’t really what Jihoon jad wanted to hear, so he whispered: “Hyung, I- I don’t want to be alone tonight.” – “Oh”, Seungcheol stammered, having expected anything but that. He wrapped his arm around the younger’s waist, knowing that whatever he might say would only make it awkward, so he just led his dongsaeng to his room and waited for him to crawl under the covers. “You should try to have a few sips of tea. You’ve been throwing up a lot and I don’t want you to get dehydrated. There’s also water if you’d rather have something flavorless”, Seungcheol hummed, relieved when Jihoon accepted a few small sips of tea, “Let’s go to sleep now, yeah? There’s a bucket next to the bed and I’ll be right here. You van wake me for anything.” He carefully climbed into bed next to his friend and smiled when the younger curled up against him, finally getting some rest. Jihoon would be fine.