#June of doom

[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

[sil-writes-fiction-too]

The Fragility Of Human Life

Lucifer x GN!Reader

Genre: sickfic, angst, lots of hurt and very little comfort

CW: sickness, illness

A/N: this is a very short one and at first I really wanted it to be a fluffy, hurt/comfort sickfic but... well... it turned into full angst instead. I'm sorry ç_ç. I haven't written for Obey Me in a hot minute and this is what I came up with?? Poor Lucifer! This is my entry for Day 29 of June of Doom ( @juneofdoom ). I used the prompt "fever", more or less.

Very few things can scare a man like Lucifer. What could possibly pose a threat to the Morning Star himself? A snap of his fingers could be enough to burn anyone and anything down to ashes. He doesn't fear for his life, no. He didn't when he fought in the Celestial War and fell and he doesn't now. However... he fears for the people closest to him. His brothers, first and foremost. Any moment spent in fear has always been dedicated to them. He feels responsible to them, he must keep them safe. Even if sometimes that means being disliked. Up until now that was all he cared about, keeping his brothers safe... but then they came along.

He disliked them at first, not trusting them even for a single second and treating them like a potential threat to his family. I mean, what kind of human would just start collecting pacts with the Seven Rulers of Hell? Not an innocent one, if Solomon was of any indication. He could understand Mammon doing something so moronic as to forge a pact with the new human student... but his other brothers? Clearly this human was more cunning than they seemed. At least that's what he used to think back then. He still remembers the fear and the anger he felt when MC had meddled into his family's affairs, going up to the attic and getting involved with Belphie despite the fact he had made it very clear they were to stay out of his business. He remembers wanting to eliminate them right then and there as his family threatened to fall apart in front of his eyes.

He is very glad he didn't.

Because there are few things that scare a man like Lucifer... and there are few things that make him as happy as MC does. This one human came into his life, completely flipped it upside down, helped his family find happiness and harmony again... and stole his heart in the process. Never in a million years did he think he would ever fall in love with a mortal. If what Lilith felt was even remotely close to what he feels for them, then Lucifer is even prouder of being in the Devildom rather than the Celestial Realm. He'd do it all again if it meant being with them.

But one thing Lucifer wasn't ready for was being faced with the fragility of human life as a demon who is completely and hopelessly in love with a mortal. It is a harsh awakening every single time, whenever MC gets hurt or makes an absent-minded comment about how short life is. Such comments are now banned from the House of Lamentation. He wasn't prepared for the icy cold fear that grips at his chest every time he is faced with MC's mortality.. the same fear that squeezes his heart right now as he looks down at the trembling human curled up in his bed.

According to Solomon, MC caught a very bad case of the flu. He was quick to add that it generally is a non-threatening sickness, but the concern was more than evident on his face nonetheless and it worried Lucifer and his brothers half to death. He has to be calm and logical about this, but he can't help but still be afraid even though it is more than clear that his human is not going to die from this. It's just that... this is MC we are talking about. They are a force to be reckoned with. They faced countless threats bravely and always came out on top and with a smile on their face! They even came back from the dead once, for Hell's sake! But now they look so fragile and defenseless as their body is wracked by violent shivers.

“Lu...” comes their weak voice, immediately yanking him out of his anxiety-fueled ruminations. “My love...” he is quick to respond, sitting down beside them and gently clasping their hand in his to bring it up to his lips and press a gentle kiss to the warm skin. Their grip is so feeble... it fills him with dread despite Solomon's words.

“I'm so cold...” they chirp in a frail voice that makes it sound like they are about to cry. It absolutely breaks his heart. He doesn't waste another second and pulls the blankets all the way up until they come up under MC's chin, then he removes his heavy coat and gets into bed with them, curling up around them and wrapping them tightly in his strong arms. The way they sigh and further sink into his embrace makes relief wash over him. Even more so when their shivers seem to simmer down a little. This is fine, he will protect them no matter what, be it from other demons or from this god forsaken flu.

He knows they will be fine and back to normal in a few days, but until then he won't be able to ignore the truth of the matter. And the truth of the matter is that MC is a human, a creature much more frail than a demon. They are not blessed with immortality and, one day, he might have to finally face the fact that no matter how much he loves them... he will have to let them go. He wonders if, when that happens, he won't suddenly cease to exist as well. Because no matter the perspective he tries to take while thinking about it, he simply cannot fathom being able to live without them by his side. The beating of his heart doesn't exist without them. They are the breath that fills his lungs and the vitality that courses through his veins. With them gone... what could ever remain of him if not an empty husk?

[serickswrites]

Say Something

Warnings: captivity, restraints, gag, cruel whumper

"Say something, Whumpee," Whumper ordered as they double checked the cuffs on Whumpee's wrists.

Whumpee didn't reply.

"Oh, come on, Whumpee. Don't be that way. Say something. Anything!"

Whumpee didn't reply.

Whumper straightened and crossed in front of Whumpee. "Say something, Whumpee."

But still Whumpee did not reply.

Whumper pinched Whumpee's cheek, shaking Whumpee's head roughly. "What, cat got your tongue?" They stared into Whumpee's tear-filled eyes. "You better say something, or you won't like what happens next."

And though Whumpee desperately wanted to respond, wanted to stop any future pain, they didn't reply. Couldn't reply. Whumper had gagged them so completely and thoroughly that even though Whumpee tried their hardest, they simply couldn't reply.

[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.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

June of Doom Day 4

"Does that hurt?" / Impalement / Fracture / Punishment

Prompts List | Event Masterpost

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 950

Tag List:@juneofdoom @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf

CW: captivity whump, chains, team whump, multiple whumpees, caretaker turned whumpee, impalement, blood, magic whump, healing whump, magical healing, screams, separation, implied death

----------

“You awake?”

Caretaker groaned and rolled over, chains clinking, trying to get comfortable on the hard ground. “No.”

Whumpee chuckled weakly. “Wish I could say the same.”

“Mmph. How’re your bruises feeling?”

“Could be better… could also be worse.”

Caretaker cracked an eye open. Whumpee lay across from them on the other side of the cramped cell, staring at the ceiling. The bruises Whumper had given them on their last visit were still visible, even after Caretaker had used their magic to heal them. Caretaker now sported matching bruises, an unfortunate price for their healing magic. “D’you want me to… y’know…?”

Whumpee shook their head. “It’s as good as it’s gonna get. Try to regain your strength. We don’t know when Whumper’s gonna—”

Slam!

Both Whumpee and Caretaker jumped at the noise of the door to their cell block being shut with a force that shook the foundations. Whumpee sighed through their nose as footsteps approached. “Fucking jinxed it,” they mumbled, pushing themself into a sitting position.

Caretaker smiled despite the dread coiling in their stomach and followed suit. They pressed their back against the cell wall, crossed their legs, and rested their chained wrists on their knees. It was a small change, but the familiar posture grounded them as the footsteps stopped outside their door.

A key rattled in the lock, and Whumper stepped inside, arms folded. They scowled when their eyes landed on Caretaker’s face, no doubt noting the matching bruises on Whumpee. “I thought I made it quite clear that you weren't allowed to use your healing magic.”

Caretaker met their gaze, hoping that their fear wasn’t evident. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Whumper hissed through their teeth. “Knew I should’ve put you in isolation,” they muttered, eyes darting to Whumpee. Their scowl deepened, before being replaced by a thoughtful look, the expression of someone who had just come up with an idea.

They turned back to Caretaker. “No matter what I tell you, no matter what I threaten or do, you’re still going to disobey me. Is that correct?”

Caretaker’s jaw tightened, and they opened their mouth to say that yes, they would disobey, they didn’t care about Whumper’s orders, but Whumper’s attention was already back on Whumpee. 

“Healers like you are valuable,” they mused, “but you’re new at this. You don’t know the price, not really….”

Caretaker frowned. What did they mean by—?

Whumper pounced, yanking Whumpee up by the collar of their shirt in one hand. They thrust their other hand to the side, a black metal spear forming from nothing. Before Caretaker could register what was happening, before the pleas to stop could form, Whumper rammed the spear into Whumpee’s stomach, pinning them to the cell wall.

Caretaker cried out, tears of fear and horror spilling down their cheeks as Whumpee sagged, gasping, as blood welled out from around the spear and red dripped onto the hard floor. “Nononono!” They shouted incoherently, tugging at Whumper’s leg. “P—please! Please! Not them please!”

Whumper ignored them, dark eyes fixed on Whumpee. “Does that hurt?” Caretaker couldn’t see their face, but their tone was casual as if they were asking if Whumpee would like a cup of tea. The spear began to turn, twisting in Whumpee’s gut.

Whumpee’s breathing hitched, their mouth opened and closed as they struggled to form words. “I… yes….”

“Good.” Whumper kicked Caretaker away. They slammed against the wall, stars dancing in front of their eyes. They could only watch as Whumper yanked the spear out of their victim, as the blood began to flow freely from the gaping hole in Whumpee’s abdomen. Whumper unceremoniously dropped them to the floor, the spear dissolving back into nothing.

Caretaker didn’t wait for Whumper’s permission. They crawled across the floor, chains clattering, fully intent upon Whumpee. The blood was warm under their hands, a stark contrast to the chill stone floor.

“Whumpee! Whumpee can you hear me? Whumpee!” Their hands hovered over the wound, still pouring viscous scarlet liquid.

Whumpee groaned softly. “It… hurts….”

Caretaker’s vision blurred from more tears, but they stubbornly swiped them away and pressed their hands to Whumpee’s abdomen. Heal, they commanded, drawing deep into their well of magic.

Their hands began to glow a faint golden color. It was harder to summon so soon after the last healing, but Caretaker had no choice. Whumpee would die without them. 

Heal!

Whumpee’s wound began to close, the skin and internal organs knitting themselves back together. Caretaker closed their eyes, clenching their jaw in anticipation.

Even though they knew it was coming, the first wave of pain still caught them by surprise. Caretaker gasped as an invisible knife seemed to embed itself into their stomach, slicing and cutting and tearing and twisting, sending waves of fire across their entire nervous system. They slumped over Whumpee’s body, hands still over their wound.

H—

“That’s enough.”

Strong hands seized Caretaker’s shoulders, yanking them away from Whumpee. They cried out and tried to pull away, but weakened as they were, they were no match for Whumper. Caretaker barely noticed as the chains fell from their wrists.

“All magic has a price,” Whumper hissed in their ear, pulling them towards the door, “I hope this exercise has demonstrated that for you.”

“No…” Caretaker mumbled, struggling against Whumper’s grip, “Don’t leave them! They’ll die!”

Whumper barked a harsh laugh. “Oh, you think I care if they live? Let this be a lesson to you: you can’t save everyone. The sooner you learn that, the better healer you’ll be.”

The cell door slammed shut before Caretaker’s eyes with an air of finality. “No!” They screamed, a sob building in their throat as Whumper dragged them away. “Whumpee! No!"

The door to the cell block shut. Another barrier.

"...no…." Caretaker whimpered, sagging in Whumper's arms. "...please...."

Whumper gave no response.

[cricket-reader]

Mutual Agreement

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox

Summary: whilst on a mission, you and Bucky get caught in the cold. Your body doesn’t handle the temperature well, being you’re not a supersoldier. Your state brings back memories of Bucky’s life before Hydra, making him fear for your health.

Warnings: language, hypothermia, crying, mentions of death, fluff

Word Count: 1,551

Prompt: Delirium | Hypothermia | Stabilisation

A/N: Day 4 of June of Doom by @juneofdoom

Bucky never showed his emotions. He was a closed book, and he intended to keep it that way. But that all shattered to pieces one fateful mission.

You and Bucky had been assigned to take down an abandoned Hydra base in Russia. Bucky had wanted to go alone, but Steve insisted that he went with a partner. That partner just so happened to be you, the girl that Bucky admired from afar.

You were strong, intelligent, and beautiful. He admired you for that and all the good you had done. You were better than him in every single way.

Finding and destroying the base was an easy matter. It was abandoned, therefore, there were no surprise attacks. It was the perfect mission. No injuries, no deaths, and most importantly to Bucky, not even a hair on your head was harmed.

Things only went downhill from there.

The getaway vehicle you had parked in the forest refused to start again. It didn’t matter what Bucky did, the vehicle refused to start up. On top of that, it was freezing in the vehicle. Almost as cold as it was outside, without the wind, of course.

If your shivering was anything to go by, Bucky knew you both couldn’t stay there. On his GPS, the safe house wasn’t far away. The supersoldier could make it on foot no problem. He just wasn’t so sure about you.

Internally, his thoughts were running rampant. On the outside, he looked as calm and collected as usual.

“We shouldn’t stay here. Do you think you can walk to the safe house?”

You bit your lip. “Sure.”

Bucky didn’t trust the tone of your voice whatsoever, but he didn’t let it show. He had to get you to warmth before he lost you.

You both exited the useless vehicle, and trudged your way towards the cabin.

It didn’t take long for your hands to start shaking, and your steps to begin faltering. You had to stay strong, though. You couldn’t face the embarrassment of failure in front of a teammate that you swore hated your guts.

The feeling in your face as well as your feet had long since vanished. Your fingers hadn’t had feeling since you reached the vehicle. These were not good signs, but you resigned to deal with it since the cabin was coming into your view.

Bucky noticed you lagging behind before you did. His heart raced, wanting to pick you up and bolt to the cabin where he could get you warm. He knew, however, that you would not like that notion. You’d probably smite him if he dared lay a finger on you. You liked your space, hating when people invaded it. Because although you were kind, you too had boundaries. Physical touch just happened to be yours.

It wasn’t until you tripped and fell into the snow that he decided, “screw that” and picked you up from the ground. You were trembling so hard, as cold as ice and it fucking scared him.

You let out a small noise of protest as he gathered you in his arms and began to run to the cabin. You could do it yourself. You just needed a little rest, that’s all.

Bucky slammed the door to the cabin open and slammed it shut before running to set you on the ground. He took off your soaked jacket and boots. You gently pushed him away, not really able to put any force behind it. “I can do it myself,” you muttered indignantly.

Whilst Bucky usually loved your sense of independence, it only served to frustrate him. He pouted with his signature grumpy face, arms crossed and all. He watched you peel off your drenched socks. Your fingers were still trembling.

He just wanted to help. You turned to go to one of the rooms, hoping to find a new pair of pants that weren’t wet.

You overestimated your ability to walk. Tripping over nothing probably had to be the most embarrassing thing you had ever done in front of Barnes. He didn’t hesitate to catch you. In Bucky’s arms you wanted nothing more than to melt into a puddle of shame.

Bucky muttered something to himself as he carried you to the nearest room. He set you on the ottoman in front of the bed before going to ruffle through the closet. He found some clothes for you to wear.

He turned around to give them to you, so you could change yourself. When he saw you falling asleep, he dashed to your side. You couldn’t fall asleep on him now. “C’mon, wake up,” he muttered, not a trace of worry evident in either his tone or on his face. He was determined to keep calm in front of you. Freaking out would do no good.

You blearily opened your eyes. It was so cold. Why were you so cold? You were in the warmth now. You should be fine.

“I’m gonna change your clothes now, okay? Is that alright?” Bucky asked. He didn’t want to do anything without your consent, but if worse came to worse, he would have to. He just needed to stabilise you before things got any worse. You just groaned in response. Cursing under his breath, Bucky dutifully peeled off your pants and dressed you in the sweats he had found. He left your shirt on, since it wasn’t affected by the snow. He didn’t want to do anything more. Not without your consent.

In your state of delirium, you barely noticed that he had picked you up and carried you to bed. You barely noticed the way he took care to wrap you in multiple blankets.

When you woke up, you were incredibly warm. You were also practically trapped in a cocoon of blankets. Groaning, you unwrapped yourself from the layers upon layers of blankets.

You tiptoed your way into the hallway. Looking around, you didn’t see Barnes anywhere.

You furrowed your brows when you heard a muffled sound coming from the bedroom down the hall.

You creeped to the door and pressed your ear against it. You could hear ragged breaths and choked sobs coming from behind the door. It had to be Bucky. No one else would be out here. However, you’d never seen him cry. He always was so strong given what he’d been through. He was resilient. So what could have prompted his tears? Did he have a nightmare? You knew from Steve that he was struggling with them. Your hand hesitated at the door handle. How you longed to go in there and comfort him, to wrap him in your arms and tell him he was safe now. But you knew he was a private person. He hated it when people saw him vulnerable, and you didn’t blame him.

All it took to break your hesitance was a sob.

Bucky had a hard time keeping everything in. He didn’t mean to let it out, but god he couldn’t help it. Seeing you look so pale and weak, your ice cold skin and shivering body… it reminded him of Steve. Little Steve back when they were kids. He thought Steve was going to die that cold January night. Bucky had stayed with him the whole night, praying to anyone that would listen to not take away his best friend.

It was like history was repeating itself and just the thought of you dying tore him to shreds. Now, Bucky didn’t believe in any god, not after all he went through with Hydra, but you bet your ass he had prayed. He didn’t get too far before his emotions caught up with him, hitting him head on like a bus.

That led him to the moment where you burst through the door. Your concerned features swept Bucky’s distraught figure. He was in the corner of the room, curled up into a ball. He didn’t even notice you, too busy trying to get air into his lungs.

Your heart tore at the sight of him so broken. You gently moved up beside him and kneeled just a few feet away. “Bucky?”

His red, watery eyes looked up at you like you were a ghost. Those eyes widened as he scrambled to make himself look like less of a mess. He sniffled back his tears and ran his hands over his eyes. Red creeped onto the tips of his ears and the back of his neck, completely ashamed you were seeing him like this.

His body froze when you wordlessly wrapped your arms around his body. He wanted to cry all over again. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him as if he were something precious. It took him a few seconds before he returned the gesture, hesitant to touch you. He could hurt you… or what if this was all just a figment of his imagination. Bucky didn’t want your tender hold to disappear.

You both stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for the rest of the night. Not a word needed to be said between you both. In your silence was a mutual agreement. An agreement that no one had to know about Bucky’s meltdown. An agreement that you wouldn’t ask questions. An agreement that this is what both of you needed. Some comfort.

[bleeding-handprints]

Day 16 - Alt: Whip

Filling all @juneofdoom prompts with exactly 100 word drabbles!

The next lash wrapped around his ribs, tearing open the skin at his side. Blood ran down his torso and soaked his already ruined pants. He panted, too out of breath to scream as another lash burned across his back, and another, and another.

They seemed to come slower now. Perhaps that fucker was getting tired. Not as quickly as him, though. With every hit, it became harder for him to keep himself up. The ropes around his wrists had to take more of his weight, straining his aching shoulders and stretching the bruised and bleeding skin of his back.

[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.

[jedi-lothwolf]

June of Doom Day 2: "Who Did This to You?" (Alt Promt)

Fandom: The Clone Wars

Summary: After a fight, Obi-wan goes to talk to Cody.

    "Can I come in?" Obi-wan asked Cody.

    Cody looked at Obi-wan. He seemed shaken and looked like he had been in a fight. His lip was bleeding, he had a colorful bruise on the side of his face, and his arms were wrapped around his stomach as if it hurt. "Come in."

    Slowly, Obi-wan walked in the room. Sitting on Cody's bed, he sighed.

    "Who did this to you?" Cody walked over to his bedside table and grabbed a tissue.

    Hesitantly, the Jedi started to speak. "Anakin did."

    "What?" Cody hadn't meant to ask.

    "Anakin, did."

    The clone walked over to Obi-wan and sat beside him. Gently pressing the tissue against his bleeding lip. "What happened?"

    Moving Cody's hand so he could speak, Obi-wan told him what happened.

    "It was an argument. Anakin gets angry faster than he used to. I think the war changed him. He's always been somewhat angry, it's just how he is. I've tried to help him, but I'm not sure anyone can."

    "Are you okay?"

    "I'm okay. I know Anakin will come find me to apologize. I'm okay."

"Does this happen often?" Cody asked quietly.

"No. We argue but we hardly fight."

"Let me see your side."

Sighing, Obi-wan moved his arms. Carefully, Cody moved the Jedi's clothing out of the way. A colorful bruise had started to form. It was a mix of dark purple, red, and yellow.

The clone stood after readjusting Obi-wan's clothing. He walked over to his bedside table and opened the top drawer. Grabbing a bottle of Tylenol, Cody shook two of the pills into his hand. "Here." After he handed the man the medicine, he grabbed the glass of water on the table and passed it to him.

"Thank you."

"Of course. Stay as long as you need."

After taking the medicine, Obi-wan laid down on the bed. Cody didn't like how normal this seemed to his general. While shaken, he didn't seem surprised.

Laying down beside Obi-wan, Cody knew he would watch the two close. After all, he couldn't stand to see people he cared about hurt.

[fairyniceyeah]

💎🦌Day 22: "What's the bad news?"

Poison/Bed-Ridden/Cauterization

@juneofdoom

Day 21: "Let's play a game"

Summary: It was only a stomach flu…

CW: emeto, seizure, hospital

Whumpee/Sickie: Joshua

Caretaker: S.Coups + Jeonghan

Day Zero

"I'm going to turn in for tonight”, Joshua whispered and lifted the blanket he had been sharing with Jeonghan off his legs. 

Jeonghan turned his attention away from the movie that was playing - it was voluntary movie night instigated by BooSeokSoon in Jeonghan’s dorm - towards his fellow 95liner. Joshua had seemed a bit off, a bit pale all day and now he winced as he moved to detangle himself from Seungkwan, who had fallen asleep on his lap. The youngest vocalist just turned in his sleep, mumbling something before becoming still again.

“You okay?”, Jeonghan whispered, not wanting to have the other’s attention on them. He doubted Joshua would appreciate that.

The other vocalist nodded. “I’m fine. Just a bit of a stomach ache. I think dinner might be having an issue with me.” His hand had moved to cradle his abdomen but other than that and his paleness he seemed good. Maybe an early night wouldn't hurt.

“Do you need anything? Meds, hot water bottle?”, Jeonghan questioned but received a shake of Joshua’s head as an answer.

“I’ll just lie down. If I need anything, Cheollie and Minghao-yah are at our dorm after all”, Joshua answered as he stood up and then said a bit louder, so that everybody awake could hear him: “I’m going to sleep. Good night.”

A chorus of “Good night”s followed him out.

Day One 

“Cheollie, it’s not even six am”, Jeonghan complained into his phone which’s ringing had disturbed his sleep, “why are you already up?”

“I haven’t turned in yet”, Seungcheol answered with a sigh. That had Jeonghan’s attention. “Shua is sick. He has been throwing up since he came back from yours and he’s running a decent temperature…”

He wanted to continue but Jeonghan, having rolled onto his stomach to actually be able to use his phone without the danger of falling back asleep, interrupted him: “He told me yesterday he had a stomach ache from dinner. Why didn’t he say he was nauseous?”

“He said it only really got bad when walking and in the elevator. Anyways, I already spoke to a manager - I’m staying home with Shua today. He’s asleep right now and hasn’t been throwing up every half hour since four but I don’t doubt he’ll feel awful when he wakes up. He’s also still at 38.3°C”, Seungcheol explained, “since I haven’t slept and was with him, the manager said that it’s best that I stay to catch up on some sleep and to stop the risk of contagion. So, congratulations, you’re in charge today.”

In the evening Jeonghan had convinced the manager that it didn’t matter if he went to see Joshua - he’d been cuddling with the sick member the whole past evening, if he was to get sick he’d get sick. 

“Hey”, he whispered as he entered his best friend’s bedroom. Joshua was sitting up with a pillow propping him up against the headboard. He was looking ashen-gray and the very definition of sick. There was a bucket sitting on the floor by his head, clean but still wet from the water used to clean it out. Joshua was reading a book though it seemed like he wasn’t taking much in.

“Hi, Han-ah”, Joshua greeted, looking up. He placed the book away without putting a bookmark - so he really hadn’t been paying attention to it. “What are you doing here? You didn’t sneak in, did you? It’s bad enough that I might have infected Cheollie already.”

“I came to see how you were, dumbass. I was worried and besides, we were cuddling. If I am destined to get sick, I already have been cursed”, Jeonghan answered and sat on the edge of Joshua’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Awful”, Joshua mumbled with a sigh, “my stomach feels like it’s been turned into lava. The cramps are terrible, the vomiting is worse. And I’m so cold from the fever.”

As if to make his point, he shivered.

“I’m sorry, baby”, Jeonghan said and brushed a sweat-soaked curl away from where it was stuck to Joshua’s equally sweaty forehead, “is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not really. Before he went to nap, Cheollie already gave me some fever reducers, pain meds and the anti-emetic”, Joshua mumbled before his voice turned bitter, “then I threw it all up and Wonwoo had to help me.”

“You know none of us mind”, Jeonghan comforted, “how long ago was that?”

“I don’t know. Forty-five minutes? Something like that”, Joshua replied, “no, don’t say it.”

Jeonghan smiled at him. “Why don’t we try some plain rice? Mingyu made it specifically for you and gave it his best.”

Joshua snorted, then seemed to regret that as the motion pulled at his aching stomach. “We’re an Asian household. I think we’d die if we didn’t have rice available at all times.”

“Fair enough. I’m actually scared for Jihoon-ah, just thinking about it”, Jeonghan joked. Then he turned serious: “You should really try eating. You need some strength.”

Joshua acquiesced. 

Five minutes after he’d had some rice, Joshua had to bury his face in the bucket again, choking up the few bites he had managed to swallow. As he managed to stop gagging and with trails of spit dangling from his lips, he rasped: “I told you.”

Seungcheol sent Jeonghan home to his dorm half an hour later, claiming Jeonghan needed his sleep - which was rich coming from the insomniac general leader but Jeonghan felt guilty enough about making Joshua eat that he just went quietly. 

Day Two

Jeonghan woke up to a text message.

Seungcheol (04:28): I’m staying home with Shua-yah again.

They all were worried, every single member not really focused on work that day. Joshua hadn’t been able to keep anything down for over twenty-four hours and his fever was steadily burning. Not even the hot water bottle seemed to be able to soothe the pain and sore muscles. He was basically bed-ridden by then, his strength not enough to drag himself to the bathroom even if he wanted to. Jeonghan received a picture from a manager during vocal practice - Seungcheol and Joshua curled up on the leader’s big bed together, both asleep and Joshua so tiny in the eldest’s arms. Nobody needed to know that Jeonghan put it in his folder of his favorite Seventeen pictures.

Jeonghan didn’t go to see them that day.

Day Three

They all had a day off. Jeonghan had forced himself into the other apartment. Seungcheol needed sleep. Joshua needed to get better. And Jeonghan was worried. 

“Go sleep, Cheollie”, Jeonghan whispered, so as not to wake the sleeping Joshua.

“But …”, Seungcheol protested, nervously biting his lip, eyebrows furrowed. “He’s so sick.”

“I know. But you need rest”, Jeonghan said, opening his arms for the exhausted leader. Immediately Seungcheol had thrown himself into the embrace, obviously overly tired and exhausted, overwhelmed by caring for a member so sick. If Joshua wasn’t better soon, they’d have to take him to the hospital. Already the company doctor had given him some IV fluids and meds but it seemed it had only helped make Joshua sleep. “I’ll take good care of him for you.”

Seungcheol nodded, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Wake me if you need help. Anything.”

Jeonghan laughed softly and shoved him out of the door. “Rest, ddaddu.”

Then he was alone with Joshua. He made himself comfortable in the chair beside the bed, opening the book Joshua hadn't touched for days.

“Hey, Shua, baby, wake up for me”, Jeonghan whispered, stroking sweat-soaked hair plastered to Joshua’s forehead back. “You need to eat lunch.”

It took a good while for Jeonghan to get Joshua awake and even then his eyes kept falling shut. It was obvious just how exhausted he was, how ill he was. “Han?”, he rasped, voice nearly gone from repeated vomiting, “I’m so tired. I just want to sleep.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I know”, Jeonghan mumbled. He hated himself for disturbing Joshua’s rest like that but he hadn’t eaten in so long and he was growing weaker. If he didn’t manage to eat until that evening they had agreed to bring him to the hospital. “But you need nutrients and fluids. And we should take your temperature again.”

“I’ll just throw up again”, Joshua protested weakly, “I don’t want to eat.”

“If you don’t eat I’ll take you to the hospital now”, Jeonghan said softly. It wasn’t a threat. It was worry. 

“No. No hospital. Please.”

As Joshua protested, never having been a fan of hospitals and likely feeling too wretched for the trip, Jeonghan nearly wished Joshua had agreed. Except for Wonwoo’s gastroenteritis, he couldn’t remember seeing a member so sick before. Maybe they shouldn’t wait till evening for a hospital visit but getting Joshua to agree looked like an impossible task. Forcing him would be no good either. So Jeonghan sighed and pulled out the thermometer. 

Joshua kept his eyes closed, fingers entangled with Jeonghan’s as they waited for the results. “39.5°C”, Jeonghan read with worry, “Shua, it hasn’t gone down at all today. If anything, it’s up.”

“Just give me some painkillers for my stomach if I have to eat - they’ll help with the fever too”, Joshua muttered. Jeonghan nodded, running his fingers through his hair for a moment. 

“Give me a moment, I’ll get the meds and food.”

Joshua didn’t respond.

“How is he?”, Wonwoo asked from where he was perched on a kitchen chair, watching Mingyu cook. 

“Fever is still high. He doesn’t want to but I told him he needs to eat. I have half a mind to just pack him into a car and drive him to a hospital”, Jeonghan sighed and slumped down on the chair beside him. Wonwoo sighed.

“Do you think it could be what I had?”, he asked worriedly. 

Mingyu turned around from the stove at that moment. “Why aren’t you taking him to the hospital?”

“I don’t know”, Jeonghan said to both questions. “He really doesn’t want to go.”

“He also has a fever going through the roof - he isn’t thinking clearly”, Wonwoo pointed out, “but it’s your choice.”

“I just don’t want to force him. You know he hates hospitals. He doesn’t like needles. I want him to be comfortable”, Jeonghan said with doubt in his heart, “can you make him some soup, Mingyu-yah?”

“One step ahead of you, hyung”, Mingyu said, pointing to the stove, “it’s already done.”

“Oh, thanks.” Maybe Jeonghan shouldn’t have been surprised. They all were so close with each other and caring for each other in their own ways had easily become second nature to them.

When Jeonghan entered the bedroom again, carrying a steaming bowl of soup, Joshua was fast asleep again. There was a bit of bile in the bucket, Jeonghan saw, grimacing. Joshua had nothing left in himself to throw up.

Waking Joshua was hard. No matter what Jeonghan tried - whispering his name, gently shaking his shoulder, calling his name loudly, using the cool cloth to try to shock him into wakefulness - it didn’t work.

Jeonghan felt himself start to tremble when he realized that, no, Joshua wasn’t asleep. This was not sleep at all, it was unconsciousness. Fear was gripping Jeonghan’s heart as he stumbled a step back. Was his fever that high? As he lifted his hand to touch Joshua’s forehead he found it burning.

“Cheollie”, he yelled, panicked. He was so out of his depth. “Seungcheol! I need help!”

The door behind him crashed open, admitting Mingyu and Wonwoo first - having been the closest - followed by a half-asleep leader who suddenly looked wide-awake the moment he laid his eyes on Joshua and the trembling Jeonghan.

“What happened?”, he asked, pushing past the other two rappers.

“I went to get him some food but when I came back, he … Shua … he wouldn’t wake …”, Jeonghan started, trying to suppress his tears. He whirled around as Joshua made a sound, somewhere between a groan and a grunt. 

Jeonghan heard somebody start to sob when he took in the scene. Joshua’s body was tense on the bed, back arched as his eyes were rolling behind closed lids. Everyone of his appendages was trembling and then…

Then Joshua began to seize.

Jeonghan was helpless to watch, as Seungcheol ordered Mingyu to call an ambulance and told Wonwoo to time … it. His eyes were fixed on Joshua, who was groaning, making these awful sounds that didn’t even sound quite human as his body was thrown from side to side. Seungcheol ran to pull the blanket off Joshua, receiving a kick in the stomach by an uncoordinated limp, but he didn’t even seem fazed.

Two hours later the four of them, Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Mingyu and Jeonghan, were sitting in a waiting room in a random hospital. They hadn’t seen Joshua since the ambulance had sped off with him shortly after they had arrived. The paramedics had been mumbling about low blood pressure but a too high pulse, a fever burning over 40°C and bad dehydration. Joshua had looked so small, hooked up to so many machines.

Now, all they could do was wait. 

Seungcheol was pacing. Wonwoo was just staring at the opposite wall. Mingyu was trying to distract himself with his phone. Jeonghan hadn’t yet stopped crying.

They had let the other know, of course, leaving Jun, Hoshi and Woozi in charge. It would normally be a disaster waiting to happen but as far as Jeonghan knew they were all just gathered in the 8th floor dorm waiting for news and taking comfort in each other's presence.

Jeonghan startled badly as the door opened and a doctor walked in. Hopeful eyes turned up to her and she gave them a tight nod in greeting. 

“Joshua-ssi is asleep at the moment. Our fears of a burst appendix or other infected organs have been proven wrong and his fever has gone down a bit. He didn’t have another seizure”, she said. Mingyu breathed out in relief, leaning his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder, who pulled him close. Seungcheol had stopped pacing, instead listening intensely. 

“What’s the bad news?”, Jeonghan asked quietly. Why would the doctor start with telling them what it wasn’t? Why wasn’t she saying what was wrong with Joshua?

The doctor sighed. “It appears as if Joshua-ssi is suffering from Escherichia coli or in short E.Coli.”

Seungcheol frowned. “Food poisoning? Food poisoning can do that?”

“Basically, yes”, the doctor said, “E.Coli is food poisoning. But in Joshua-ssi’s case it has turned into bacteremia. It’s an infection or rather poisoning of the bloodstream caused by bacteria entering the blood due to a scrape or cut. We think that due to the excess vomiting Joshua-ssi’s esophagus was torn a bit, causing the bacteria he was throwing up to enter his blood. Due to this, he developed sepsis.”

“Oh, God”, Seungcheol mumbled and collapsed into the chair next to Jeonghan. The younger gently took his hand, needing the support as much as the leader did.

“How are you treating him?”, Wonwoo asked, as always able to keep a clear head.

“We put him into an artificial coma so his body can rest. He is receiving oxygen and antibiotics to treat the infection”, the doctor explained.

“Is … is he going to be okay?”, Jeonghan whispered, not daring to look up from where he was fiddling with Seungcheol’s team ring. 

“If the medication helps as much as we hope, yes. But we need to wait and see how it progresses before we promise anything”, she answered.

“Can we see him?”, Seuncgheol said.

“Not yet. We’re keeping him in isolation for now, so he can’t get into contact with any other germs. If he gets better in the next two days, you’ll be able to see him.”

Day One of Joshua being able to return to their schedules was likely one of the best the group had ever experienced. 

Two weeks after the initial hospitalization, including three days in coma, Joshua was allowed to return home to the dorm. He was still weak, pale and mostly sleeping the days away. Three days later the fever returned and he was bedridden in the hospital again. It was touch and go for a while.

But now, nearly two months later, Joshua was with them at the photo shoot scheduled for that day. All members, even those who were already finished with theirs and allowed to leave, stuck around to watch him together.

Joshua was really glowing under the flood lights.

Jeonghan couldn’t help but smile as Seungcheol pressed his hand.

“He’s okay, Han-ah. He’s okay.”

Day 23: "You're doing great"

Masterlist link: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's June of Doom 2024

[blackrosesandwhump]

June of Doom Day 22

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

CW: 2nd pov, poison, agony, death wish, psychological whump

“…the bad news?” you hear someone say. The voice reaches you from far away, across a vast gulf that yawns open between you and—everything. Your entire body—lungs, heart, limbs, eyes, even your mind—feels disconnected and strange. Numb. Blank. At least you can still hear. For now.

“…nothing we can do…poison has to run its course.” A different voice. It fades out, then filters back in, a moment, or days later. Time has no meaning in this blank nothingness. “…let them rest until it’s over.”

What’s wrong with me? The words form, desperate, on your tongue and die there, trapped and unspoken. Nothing works. Nothing feels real. Nothing except—

Briefly, horrifically, your senses return. You lie in a lake of fire, your body flayed and disintegrating as you gasp for air and find only ash. It creeps into your lungs, choking you. A scream builds up in your scorched throat.

Please, kill me.

But instead of death, something cool washes through your mouth. A moment of small relief. You gulp it down, before everything turns blissfully numb and blank again. The vast abyss splits open and swallows you, grateful, into its depths.

“…bedridden for now,” comes the familiar voice across the expanse. “…don’t know how long they’ll take to recover.”

@juneofdoom

[juneofdoom]

June of Doom 2025 💣

By popular vote, here be the 2025 June of Doom prompt list for your doomsday planning!

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!

Rules/ FAQ!

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.

You can combine this challenge with other challenges!

You can start/ finish this challenge whenever the heck you want!

You can mix and match prompts from different days!

I'll post reminders and such the closer we get!

[AO3 Collection will be up late May 2025]

And don't forget to tag @juneofdoom so I can reblog your awesome here! Have fun!

[sil-writes-fiction-too]

A New Life, You and I

Levi Ackerman x GN!Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort (more comfort than hurt), fluff

June of Doom, Day 7: "What happened?"/"Stumbling" (late entry) @juneofdoom

CW: mentions of injuries

A/N: this is very short and I wasn't sure where I was going with it, but I think it's cute. This takes place after the last chapter of AOT, Levi and the Reader are in an established relationship and live together in a small cottage :,)

A loud, clattering sound coming from the kitchen pulls your attention away from the book you were reading, startling you. At first you think that perhaps some sort of critter has managed to enter your little home and that it made a ruckus in its exploration of the kitchen while searching for food, but then you hear a familiar, annoyed grunt coming from the room and suddenly you are on your feet and running.

“Levi??” You call out with concern more than evident in your voice, and when you reach the kitchen you let out a small gasp at the sight of Levi on the floor surrounded by various utensils, bags of tea and a miraculously unbroken jar of honey. His wheelchair waits abandoned in a corner of the room, quite far away from him. “What happened?” You ask as you hurry over to help him get back up.

He grunts again as he tries to not weigh you down while you pull him up. “I fell.” He mutters in a flat tone, as if you asked him a stupid question, and it makes you huff a little. “Yeah, no shit...” You mumble as you carefully help him back into his wheelchair, holding back a little hiss from how tightly he is gripping onto your arms for support. Once he is sat back down you take a look at the mess still strewn about the floor. “... Were you trying to make yourself some tea?” You ask while you bend down to pick up all the stuff that fell down, noting the open overhead cabinet that's definitely emptier than how you left it.

He huffs, his shoulders stiffening up a little as he looks to the side. “Yeah...” he grumbles rather dejectedly, and you immediately recognize the embarrassment and annoyance in his expression. It breaks your heart.

When things finally got to an end a couple months ago you felt nothing but relief. You and Levi both survived and maybe you'd finally get a chance to leave the past behind once and for all. Sure, that relief soured pretty damn quickly when you realized just how extensive Levi's injuries were... but he was still alive and breathing, and you thought that, compared to everything else, this was just a small hurdle. Nothing you couldn't face together... And you still feel like this.

However, as happy as you were to finally have Levi at home with you, that's also when you began to realize that perhaps this was a little more than a small hurdle. For Levi especially. After everything that's happened he mostly looked tired, rather than sad. At first he looked like he accepted his new living conditions rather quickly and that he didn't let the changes bother him too much... but you see it sometimes. The way his frown deepens when he accidentally drops something after absentmindedly reaching for it with his right hand, the flashes of pain across his face whenever his injuries start acting up for whatever reason... and the frequent antsiness in his demeanor whenever he gets up off his chair to try and walk for a little. That last one in particular seems to take a toll on him.

The doctors have encouraged him to try and take a few steps every once in a while, but they were very clear on him needing support and not pushing himself too hard in order to avoid injuring his body further. And you, on your end, made it very clear to Levi that he can rely on you. You know he is grateful for your presence, he'd never take it for granted or see it as a nuisance... but it is more than apparent that he wishes he wouldn't have to rely on you for so many things, especially when it comes to the simplest of tasks. He was humanity's strongest no more than a few months ago, for God's sake! And now he can barely take a couple of steps without stumbling or folding like a piece of paper. You can almost hear these thoughts echoing from his mind.

“Mh... You know, we should move all this stuff somewhere else. Keeping it up there is just impractical.” You state as you clear a small space on the kitchen counter to accommodate all of the things Levi uses to make his tea. You make it a point to arrange all of the items neatly, cocking your head to the side when you are done. “I think we need some cute jars for all those tea leaves... and maybe a little rack?” You scrunch up your nose in thought as you observe the little tea corner work in progress. You hear a small scoff behind you.

“I'll come with you to buy that stuff. I don't trust your tastes.” He comments in his usual sarcastic tone, making you laugh. “How very dare you!” You exclaim as you turn to him with your hands placed on your hips, pleased to see that he already seems to be less tense than before. “Uh huh, remember the curtains that didn't fit the windows? 'Oh Levi, these are just perfect for the kitchen!' and then they didn't even reach all the way down.” He repeats your words from when you first started decorating your shared home, but still uses his deadpan tone while imitating you. Honestly it just makes you laugh harder. “You're an ass!” You huff in mock annoyance, crossing your arms over your chest. “And you keep buying mismatched stuff...” He grumbles, secretly adoring the sound of your laughter.

You sigh, raising your hands. “Alright, fine, that may be true... I will make sure to consult the real artiste when we go on our next shopping trip.” You say jokingly, making him scoff again and roll his eyes at you.

“Hey Levi...” You begin while stepping aside so he may get closer to the counter. A simple “mh?” is the response you receive. “Would you make a cup of tea for me as well?” For a moment he stills, with his hand in mid-air as he was reaching for one of the bags that contain his tea leaves. “I like yours the best...” You add as a smile slowly curls your lips when you notice the tips of his ears turn slightly red.

“...Yeah.” The way his voice softens makes your heart melt in your chest.

[serickswrites]

I Made a Mistake

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, burns, cruel whumper

"I made a mistake," Whumper said as they surveyed Whumpee with cruel eyes, "in thinking you would be interesting. You have been so boring, Whumpee."

"Please," Whumpee begged as tears streamed down their face. Whumper had hog tied them hours ago and their body hurt beyond belief. "Please, I will do anything. Please!"

"And that is exactly what makes you boring, Whumpee," Whumper sneered, "you are so fucking predictable."

Whumper disappeared from Whumpee's line of sight. "Please! Please! Tell me how to be interesting! I'll be exactly how you---AAAAAAAAA!" Whumpee's pleas turned to high pitched screams of pain as Whumper pressed a burning hot poker to their exposed stomach.

Whumpee's world became nothing but burning pain as Whumper continued to press the poker into their well burnt flesh. Whumper leaned down and stared into Whumpee's eyes. "There is nothing you can do. So I will have to have what little fun I can take from you."

And they pressed another hot poker to Whumpee's side.

[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.

[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.