#a drabble a day in june

[a-spes]

| BUT YOU SHALL BE MINE - Drabble (1.006 words).

| Summary - you've lost. the final battle against the scarlett witch finally came, and you've lost. all the world's greatest heroes are dead, except you.

| Tags & warning - Scarlett witch x R, enemies, wanda is dark, everyone is dead (oops), a bit of angst with twisted comfort (don't even know if it can be called comfort honestly), description of dead bodies, mentions of blood/death/violence/heavy injuries.

| MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

You made a terrible mistake when you didn't die.

Not that it was your choice, you've just had a bit of luck. That's what most people would think, but in your opinion it was more of a sentence. It was nothing more than a cruel joke from the universe, because what's a life where everyone you cherish is dead?

You won't even be able to bury them because there is no bodies to pick up. Only dust, or bits of those you love. You wouldn't even be able to tell what belong to whom — Could that be Tony's arm? Or maybe it belongs to Steve? You are not even sure it's a arm. It could be a leg, or rubble. In that state, it's difficult to say.

But maybe it's better that way. You have never been the strongest one, you would've never been able to carry all their bodies homes. Steve could've, he has a super strenght. Stark would've invented something, or perhaps paid people to help him. But you? You have nothing special. No powers, no skills above the average, nothing except your luck.

You somehow always manages to get out of impossible situations. From being able to escape Nat' when she is angry to survive deadly situations, nothing serious has ever happened to you. You've always seen that as a gift, but it turned out to be a curse.

Your second mistake was to try to get up.

Maybe if you didn't she wouldn't have noticed your presence. You knew you should've hide between two corpse, no matter how disguting that idea was, because maybe you would've escape her gaze. But you couldn't think properly, and condamned yourself the moment you moved. A faint, and painful move, which earned you what? Nothing, because you weren't even able to do more than resting of your forearms before slipping, head first into the mud.

It was painful, and humiliating, but not as much as knowning that there was nothing you could do to avenge your friends. At least, they died as heroes, trying to save humanity, and even if they failed, that's how the world is going to remember them as. They will be martyrs, and you'll be nothing. No one would remember the name of the Avengers' shadow that died squirming on the ground like a worm.

Somehow, you still had that spark in your heart, the urge to fight, but it was useless. If a whole army failed to defeat her, how could you? Maybe your body knew it because it doesn't respond to your requests anymore. You could hardly move your fingertips.

When your vision darkened, you thought it was the end of your pain. It's not that you could see anything anyway. On kilometers, there was nothing but desolation. Bodies piled up, the ones of your friends. Smoke raising in the sky, making you cought violently. And that red mist, the reason for all your woes. It was all blurred because of your tears before the world fade away.

"Ah, look at you," the woman said. That's when you realize that you didn't lose your eyes, her shoes were just blocking your view. "You're covered in blood, broken and lost, but yet ...," she chuckled before resuming her sentence, "you still think you can do something against me. How cute is that," she said, her tone dripping with false pity. Or maybe it was genuine, which only make the situation more humiliating for you.

"You are brave one though," she added, not noticing that you weren't listening. You couldn't, even if you wanted. Your mind was fuzy, and you ears were ringing due to explosions. "The last one standing ..., you should be proud, you know, not everyone can last that long against me," which is why she has been surprised when she felt an ounce of life. She thought her battle was over, that all forms of life had been exterminated for miles around, but it turned out that one hero was still standing.

Not the strongest or bravest one, but still the last one to breath. She kneels beside you, surprised that the last awakened soul resides in such a fragile-looking body. But the woman wasn't oblivious, and she could feel that there was more than that behind those pretty eyes. She wanted to believe that if the last person standing was such an innocent woman, it wasn't by chance. She saw it as a gift from the universe. At that thought, a smile spread across her face. A sweet and caring one, as comforting as the hand she is now running across your cheek. The one you're leaning on, appreciating that ounce of sweetness in your ocean of pain, not having enough energy to care about the person who's giving it to you. Her thumbs brushing your tears away, soothing you as if she wasn't the cause of your pain.

"Such a pretty face ...," she mumbled, "so much potential wrapped in that fragile body," she continued, her words slipping out of your ears until she eventually straightens up. "You know what? The realm of the dead probably won't mind if I keep one soul for myself," she conclued, considering that the small whimper that escaped your lips was an acknowledgement of her statement.

With a flick of the wrist, she envelops you in that red glow you hate so much. Slowly, your body is torn from the earth where your friends lie for the eternity. The red mist takes all the pain away, but also your chances of salvation.

"It's okay, you can rest now, my little soldier," she whispers, and those are the last words you can hear before the world disappears. The last two living creature leaving this desolate land behind in a second, as if they've never been here.

| REQUEST GUIDELINES — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Tag list - @m0nsterqzzz

[kissingarthurclaus]

🌈 Welcome to WLWeek 2024 🌈

Hello everyone, I wanted to put together a nice, low-pressure event dedicated to my fellow wlw self shippers for one week of June because it's pride month, babey!! This is the first time I've ever tried to 'organize' an event, so take it easy on me, I'll try to be as communicative as possible and if anyone has questions about it, asks and DMs are always open!

On to the details! Its gonna last from Monday the 10th through Friday the 14th, and anyone can opt in or out as they see fit! No one is obligated to participate throughout the entire week or from the beginning alone, just do what you feel like!

RULES:

NO PROSHIPPERS/COMSHIPPERS/NEUTRAL, all blogs with that will be blocked on sight!

Obviously don't participate if you're not wlw/not shipping with a female character

Lesbians, bisexual, pansexual, sapphic, and once again general wlw/nblw are welcome!

Essentially I am tolerating NO funny business, and I won't tolerate bullying either so everyone be very niceys and hey, try to support each other! 💖💖💖 now onto the prompt list

Monday June 10th: Favorite style/aesthetic-

draw you and your female f/o in your favorite clothing style (goth, Y2K, cottagecore, etc.) Or what you think their favorite style would be! alt. for writers, write a drabble about going shopping for these outfits with your f/o!

Tuesday June 11th: Morning routine -

draw you and your female f/o getting ready for the day. Who's the early riser and who's dragging them back into bed? alt. for writers, write an early morning cuddle session/chat. 

Wednesday June 12th: Date night-

draw you and your female f/o on a date! Is it a dinner, a picnic? Are you guys dressed to the nines or at home in your jammies? Alt. for writers, write a date gone slightly awry. How do you fix things/compromise? 

Thursday June 13th: Beach day-

it's summertime, draw you and your female f/o in beachwear and enjoying the sun and sand! alt. for writers, write out a nice dip in the ocean! Can you swim? Can your f/o? Does one have to teach the other? Is it nice and relaxed or does it dissolve into splash fighting? 

Friday June 14th: Role/Ship Swap -

draw your f/o as the self shipper and you as the fictional character role they fill! What kind of s/i do they make? Would they write fanfic, draw fanart? Alt. for writers, write a gush post from ur f/o's point of view! 

And that's it!! Do one of them, do all of them, or do none of them, it's your choice! I just wanted to show some love to my fellow wlw self shippers out there this month and so something fun for them!

Now if you got this far and you read the rules make sure to put 'great googly moogly' in the tags when u rb! And don't forget to tag my blog here when you write/draw for this event!!! 🫶🫶 everyone who does will get a rb from me and a little promo as well, and maybe even a follow cause I need more wlw mutuals :3

[blackrosesandwhump]

June of Doom Day 18

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

CW: 2nd pov, illness, sick whumpee, pain

As the day progresses, the throbbing in your temples grows worse, and as it grows, so does the lump of dread in your stomach. You know what it means. You know that sooner or later, the pain will spread to your chest, arms, and legs. You know you need to tell the others before your body betrays the truth.

But instead, you force yourself to keep moving, all the while not saying a word.

“You don’t look so good,” someone observes. You’re not sure who; by that time, the world has turned vague and fuzzy with pain.

“I’m fine,” you mumble back. Just tell them, begs the part of your mind that can still function. Tell them the truth. Tell them, and they can help you.

You ignore the voice. This is your problem, not theirs. The mysterious illness that the dying woman pronounced over you is your business, and you don’t want to bother anyone else.

But later, much later, you lie supine in a dark room as someone sponges your aching body, and you finally realize your mistake.

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 10, Day 12, Day 17

“Can you hear me?” | Fear | “You don’t want to do that.” | Struggle | Grief

<<< previous | next >>>

Contains: royalty whump, restraints, death mention, murder mention, fantasy drug/potion, threats

WC: 620

Mark my words

A door creaked open. Light flashed, illuminating his prison: a dark dungeon cell with a single door, thick wood with only a tiny, barred opening through which a guard might peer to inspect his prisoner and ensure he still drew breath. It swung wide, swaying on its rusted hinges. The seer flinched at the door’s ominous croak.

In stepped a man he’d never seen before.

“Seer-prince,” said the stranger. “Or, rather, former prince.”

The seer thrashed in his chains, choking on words he didn’t have the time or wherewithal to plan. Stifled words of rage and confusion—and fear.

“Your family’s line is ended, and you are a prisoner,” said the stranger. He folded his arms, watching the seer’s struggles coolly. “The former king and queen are dead. You serve a new queen, and a new crown prince.” He smiled. “Me.”

Dead. “No,” he tried to say. “No!”

“Yes. Killed, too, is your brother. And your court. Nothing remains.”

“My . . . brother . . . ?” Only seventeen. Brave and brash. Dead.

“Slain with my own blade. I slit his throat.”

The grey eyes glinted, as if he knew was the seer would ask next. As if he anticipated it.

“My . . . sister . . .” He coughed, forcing out the garbled syllables, as shock and panic burrowed into him even more.

Dead?

The usurper grinned. “Alive.” He chuckled. “And she will remain so, if you do as I say. So, listen well.”

Too much, too fast. His parents and brother, slaughtered. His sister, living—but where? Hurt? What had happened to her? Had she witnessed the murders? Had this killer really kept her alive? To what purpose? Was it too much to hope for? What if this so-called prince was lying?

And how was he to know, locked in a dungeon, with no memories to fall back on because he’d been too much of a coward to face his visions every night?

“I said, listen, seer.”

The voice was cold and cruel, sneering and harsh, but it was not wrathful. It did not shout. Its patience was wearing thin, but that patience endured. For now.

With no other option, the seer looked up. The usurper’s image swam and wobbled.

“I own you now,” said the usurper, “and your fascinating little magic trick.” He smiled. “Ah—yes—I know about your visions, and how you chose the path of weakness to avoid them. There will be no more of that. All you see? Mine to know.” He stepped forward and crouched, and though he lowered his voice, the words only seemed to grow louder. “You will spill every secret, and your precious sister lives another day.”

The revulsion, the thought of coping with the visions every night for the rest of his life until they finally destroyed him, had him shaking his head in horror.

“Oh,” said the usurper softly. “Mark my words. You don’t want to refuse me. I will not make this kind, merciful offer again. So. In case your soft, drug-addled brain didn’t comprehend the first time, I will repeat myself once. Do you hear me? Only once.”

The seer stilled, bile burning hot and rancid in his throat.

“You are mine to wield and to control. There will be no more suppressing of your visions. If you don’t learn to control this gift of yours, and if you refuse to share what you learn with me and the queen you now serve, I will kill your sister in front of you, and then it will be your turn, and your family’s bloodline will be ended once and for all.”

The tears in the seer’s eyes spilled over, soaking into the heavy muzzle that rendered him unable to acquiesce. The chains fell still and silent.

The usurper prince smiled again.

June of Doom Masterlist

<<< previous | next >>>

@juneofdoom

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

[cam-stopped-eating-candles]

@june-doe-event swap Penny drabble for day 6, a swap AU !!

For mine we have Penny lamb, the angriest girl in town >:)

Two hours of detention for fighting. She didn’t even start anything, she only finished it. She digs her head into the desk and scrunches up her hair in her fists. She would be in so much trouble once she got back to their house. It’s all for her foster parents, not even fit to be normal parents, let alone try to wrangle her.

It wasn’t Penny’s house, it was all theirs. At Penny’s house, her home, she had her own bedroom, upstairs. She had her rabbits out her window, her toys and trinkets. Now all she has to her name is whatever she could fit in a backpack, and a cold basement to put it in.

She slouches in her seat and puts her head down, praying that it’ll fly by fast enough for them not to notice. Not that they ever notice when she’s missing. She would be better off just living on her own, she essentially already is.

Only if she were on her own, she wouldn’t have these strangers pushing her around. She had to be home by a certain time to “stay out of trouble” only to be sent downstairs with the door locked. Lest Penny “corrupt” all their real children.

Ever since she was 13, she’s been ostracized from the place she was supposed to feel safe in. Alone in the basement, her only friends are the same animal documentary tapes and dvds. When animals get pushed around, they push back.

She doesn’t have her brother to keep her grounded, she doesn’t have to care for him anymore. She doesn’t get to care for him. It leaves her in a position of complete isolation. And animals raised in isolation, well they tend to go a little crazy. They pace in circles, they lash out, they tear out their fur, they attack their keepers. And they get blamed for it.

After all those years of build up, she just snapped. When kids in the hallway shove her down the stairs, like they always do, she shoves them back.

One kid, she didn’t know his name, whispered something inaudible to his friend, while stepping on her heels. He tried to trip her, but she held onto the rail, and didn’t even think twice as she mindlessly kicked behind her, nailing him in the shin.

“Fucking bitch!” He yelled, and gave her a hard shove downwards.

Only Instead of falling, she swung around, balled up her fist, and went right for the face. She didn’t even register how much it hurt to have her knuckles, slam into his eye. They went back and forth at the bottom of the stairs, gathering a small crowd until it took two teachers to pry her off him.

Which puts her where she is now. He sits behind her in the nearly empty classroom, glaring through her head. Like she did anything wrong.

When her two hours of occasionally clearing her throat is over, she’s pulled into the counselors office. Again.

“Penny, you know this can’t keep happening.” Her counselor says as she sits stiffly at her desk, “It’s like you’re the only one I ever see in here, last week it was the yelling and slamming doors-“

“I was upset.”

“But that’s not how we should react when we’re upset, now is it? Remember we can’t control what other people do, but we can control how we respond to it. We’re going to have to call your parents-“

“They’re not my parents.”

“If you keep up with all this, then your going to get kicked out of school,” she quickly changes the subject, “You’ve already been suspended twice.”

As much as she hated school, anything was better than that house. All the children laughing and giggling upstairs while she picked at her cold dinner, left at her door.

“Well It’s not like you guys are much help.”

————————————————————————

“Jesus, Penny” her foster father sneers at her, the minute she walks through the door, “what the hell.”

“I just got here, what did I even do?!” She yells back, exasperated, clutching tightly to her backpack.

“The school just called, you beat up some kid, you’re always starting shit! You are literally impossible to deal with, you know that?”

“So just fuck me I guess,” she gestures to the bandage over her own nose, “and nothing happened to me?”

“Watch your language! If you’re gonna talk to me like that, you can go to your room.”

“That’s not a room that’s the basement. You keep me in the basement, like a-“

“Oh!” He retorts, “would you rather be sleeping on the street?”

“Maybe I rather would!” She storms downstairs, slamming the door and locking it herself.

She throws her backpack across the room, and frustratedly plops herself onto the old pull out sofa she calls a bed. She digs her face into her hands and blanket she hates, trying to pretend that it’s something a little more familiar.

She pulls out her old hand me down laptop from under her bed, and gets online. At least there’s YouTube. She scrolls through to distract mind, deep breaths, she reminds herself. Don’t break it with tense fingers on the keyboard.

Online she had friends, or acquaintances at least. Girls in chats who will assure her that there’s nothing wrong with her. She has her anonymous love, she doesn’t know her name, but every message she gets sends her heart into hysterics, almost enough to make her forget where she is. It’s her only escape.

She’s not a bad kid, she swears she not. She just wants somebody else to see it.

[spicywhumper]

June of Doom 2024 – Day 06. Flinch

Masterlist // Series: What Comes After // Warnings: implied past torture

It was quite stupid, Billie thought, to still react like this to any loud-ish noises, to barely sudden movements. It was stupid to still expect a hit or a punch or any kind of violence towards her, she knew, rationally, had proof, that she was safe now. She has been safe since she was put under the official care of the O’Neal & Becker Institute.

She knew, she fucking knew Rogers (call me Erin, yeah, she’d fall into the trap of trusting so easily, sure, of course) would never hurt her. The whole point of being under the care of a professional like Rogers was to provide Billie safety so she can heal, so she can recover.

Still, it kept happening. A question asked just a little louder than softly said words, a movement out of reflex so a mug didn’t shatter on the ground, a sigh of frustration when something in a mobile phone didn’t go as planned. Rogers was careful being the trained woman she was, and most of these things happened accidentally or when she didn’t notice Billie was in earshot. And Billie kept trying not to flinch, trying to hold back even more when she was around Rogers.

Always waiting for a slap, but always getting a soft apology and endless patience.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

June of Doom Day 16

"At least it can't get any worse." / Secret / Stranded / Setback

Prompts List | Masterpost

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 300

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

@scaewolf

TW: car trouble, swearing, smoke, implied ambush, implied magic

Whumpee was the only one on the road when the engine spluttered, the entire car shaking as it struggled before finally giving out, forcing them to coast to a stop at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. The sun had set long ago, and as Whumpee turned on their hazards, popped the hood, and stepped out of the car, they couldn’t shake the irrational fear that they were being observed.

Turning on their phone light, Whumpee pulled open the hood and was rewarded with a face full of smoke. They coughed, stumbling back and weakly fanning the air with their free hand, trying to disperse the smoke. Unfortunately, they were no trained mechanic, and couldn’t tell if anything was wrong besides the obvious smoke rising in the air.

Whumpee sighed and got back into their car, leaving the hood open to allow the engine to cool off. They shut off the phone light and checked their signal. One bar. It wasn’t great, but it would have to do. “Stupid shitty car,” they muttered under their breath, dialing the local nonemergency line, “at least it can’t get any worse.”

As soon as the words left their lips, their phone buzzed, the screen turning off. Whumpee cursed, smacking it against their palm, trying to get it to turn back on. “Great! Just great! I charged you three hours ago, how can you be dead already?! You were only running the fucking map you piece of shit!”

Whumpee was so caught up in their tirade against their phone that they didn’t notice the shadows moving outside their car until it was too late.

[kandykarkatwrites]

June of Doom Day 2: “It didn’t have to be this way” | Scream | Double Cross

@juneofdoom

A quick (and my first!) Drabble based off the bridge scene in Last Life between Mumbo and Grian if it went a little different:

“We could still be friends!”

“Mumbo, there’s a way we could still be friends,” He hissed, eyes bloodshot as he swung around his pickaxe, “You could join me.”

Mumbo backed up, avoiding the falling stone. The yellow life examined the scene for an out, the scowl on the other’s face framed perfectly in front of him. He opted to jump up onto the bridge’s railing, running towards the ladder behind the red life.

With one final swing, Grian struck the slab Mumbo was about to step on, watching as he fell onto the dark floor with a scream.

“It didn’t have to be this way.”

[snaillamp]

June of Doom - Day 1 - Monsters and Men

I’ve been a little behind the past couple days cause of exams but I decided to have a go at prompts from @juneofdoom. I’ll post when I can but I will try and complete the whole month. Anyway I wanted to switch it up a little and do something I haven’t seen before. Enjoy >:)

Masterlist

_____________________________________________________________

Day 1: “You don’t want to do that” | Collapse | Locked door | Fear |

Whumper rushed through the halls panting hard. Their throat ached as they scrambled around the corner and down another hallway. ‘This isn’t happening… this isn’t happening…’ they thought to themself as they tore down the hall, their feet squeaking on the linoleum beneath them. They reached their office and slammed the door shut, racing to their grab their phone off their desk. Their fingers shook as they dialled the number for security.

“You don’t want to do that.” A low, growling voice snarled. Whumper felt chills go down their spine, as they looked up to see Whumpee, staring them down like a wolf stalking its’ prey. They wore only stained, baggy sweatpants, their skin littered with scars and healing wounds. Long, matted hair framed their gaunt face. They bared their teeth, as they took a silent step towards Whumper who steeled themself for what was to come. “Besides, they won’t even get here in time.” Whumpee let out a low, sinister laugh, taking another step towards Whumper, who gripped their desk. They could feel their heart leap in fear as sweat began to form on their brow.

“If you hurt me...” Whumper cringed inside, as their voice wavered slightly, “My men will not hesitate to kill you, like the animal you are.” They tried staring down Whumpee, but looking into those cold, empty eyes was not the same, now that the power dynamics had so dramatically shifted. Whumper could not have even imagined a Whumpee doing this. They had broken people, many people over the years, but this was inconceivable.

Whumpee laughed dryly, “Oh, Whumper, you just don’t get it.” They looked down at the floor for a second, before looking up with a new fire in their eyes, “I don’t care.” They cocked their head, a small grin forming on their face. “After all this time, you tried to make me give up, and I refused. Well, you finally won Whumper. I have nothing left to lose.” Their words slid slowly from their mouth, making Whumper’s eyes widen in horror. “I’ve finally given up.”

Before Whumper could react, Whumpee launched themself, with almost superhuman speed, at Whumper. Whumper tried to dodge but was too slow, as a strong, cold, hand clamped down on their wrist and yanked them back. Whumpee was crouching on the desk, smiling menacingly. They noticed the phone was still in Whumper’s hand, and they snatched it from Whumper’s grip, throwing it to the floor. “Well, well, well, it looks the the Whumper has become the Whumpee.” Whumpee’s long fingernails dug into Whumper’s skin as they twisted Whumper’s arm behind their back, and forced them to the ground. Despite the abuse they had endured, Whumpee had remarkable strength and that made Whumper quiver.

Their office was nice, near the top of a skyscraper in a fancy part of the city. It was spacious, and had floor to ceiling windows. The light of the afternoon bathed Whumpee’s face in a soft golden glow as they dragged Whumper towards the window, before shoving their face against it. “Look down.” They ordered. Whumper did not move their head, they would not be ordered around by a Whumpee. “Look. Down.” Whumpee quietly growled into their ear. They gripped Whumper’s neck and pressed on the back of their head, just as Whumper had done to Whumpee so many times before. Whumper’s breath hitched as they looked down.

Below them, there were people and cars, carrying around their daily lives, oblivious to the audience watching from above. “You know what they remind me of?” Whumpee continued, moving to stand above Whumper. “They remind me of ants. They make massive nests and all have little jobs, little paths they follow. But ants… Ants are useful, they harvest from the world around them, making the ecosystem flourish. Every ant is useful, even if it gets eaten by a bird, that bird gets sustenance. Ants are not a waste of space. Do you know what my favourite ant is Whumper?”

Whumper shook their head. “Meat ants. Everyone hates them, because they bite, but they are probably the most useful ant of all. They collect the meat of dead animals and take it back to eat. They help the creature decompose little by little. But my favourite thing about meat ants, is once they find something, they swarm. Thousands of them tearing at the flesh of the creature, reducing it to bones.” Whumpee’s voice grew dark as Whumper gulped, before asking, “So that’s what you’re going to do to me then? Tear me up little by little?”

Whumpee laughed, “No, like I said, ants are useful. Humans, they aren’t. We used to be. Before all this.” They gestured at the city around them, “But we forgot.” They let go of Whumper’s arm before kneeling down next to them, “And when we forgot to be like the ants, we became monsters.” They turned to look at Whumper, their eyes boring into Whumper’s own. “But you… you’re the most monstrous of all.” They stood and turned, walking towards the door of the office. Whumper shot up and turned around, their face growing red with rage and embarrassment. “So that’s it? You won’t even finish me off?”

Whumpee paused mid-stride, turning to look at Whumper over their shoulder, before saying in an unsettlingly calm voice, “No.” They reached for the door knob, but before twisting it, they looked at Whumper from across the room, “Because I’m not going to stoop as low as you. I’m not like you.” As they left the room, Whumper heard their voice a final time as they disappeared, “I may be the animal Whumper, but you, you are the monster.” 


[a-spes]

| UNTIL ONE OF US DIE — Drabble (958 words).

| Summary — you promised to marry her but you didn't.

| Tags & warnings — Part of my "A drabble a day in june" challenge. — Yelena Belova x Reader, childhood friends (lovers?), death (R), angst without comfort, bittersweet, mentions of the redroom.

| REQUEST GUIDELINES — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

Everyone has always lied to her but it was fine, she got used to it. She smiles, pretending she doesn't see right through their games, doing whatever they are expecting her to, even if she knows that the only reward she'll get for it is a bitter disappointment. She is born to serve, and that's what she does the best. They give her a mission, she completes it, and then they are happy enough to leave her alone for a few days — Weeks, when she is lucky.

That's how the world works for her, it always did, but some truth are more difficult to accept. That her family never existed, that she has been ripped of a few years of her life, that her sister died, but also that you didn't keep your promise.

You were just kids but it still counted, didn't it?

It was only a few words that you whispered to each other when you were no older than ten years, something that happened in the secrecy of the dormitory. You both knew it was a dangerous game because no one was allowed to dream but you didn't care. As far as she can remember, you've never cared about anything.

"We can do it," you said, trying the blonde to break the rules with you, but she was too stubborn for that. She admired your recklessness as much as she hated it, knowning you could get in trouble for that. "We just have to make sure that they don't catch us. What they don't know can't hurt, right?"

Except it does, because they always knew. Until recently, she hadn't be able to understand why they kept you around all these years. You were an average widow wrapped in a sick layer of trouble, closer to the girls who received a bullet in their head than to those who held the gun.

You were borned in a place where light doesn't exist, and yet you had the brightest smile. You had no memories of your family. They ripped you from them before you could learn the sound of their voices but that never stopped you from dreaming. You spent your time imagining a life you've never — and will never — know, and it contaminated the others. Even she has sometimes surprised herself dreaming about what her life would be outside these walls.

"One day, I will marry you," you've told her back then, and she didn't believe you until you swore on every you had. Even if it wasn't a lot, it meant everything for the blonde.

It was more than a childish promise, it was the hope of a brighter future, and she held on it. Every time, even now, she sooth herself asleep by thinking about what your life together could be like. You would've the biggest house that can exist, and it would be far from everything, just the two of you, and maybe a dog or a cat. You would both love that peaceful and quiet place. It would be your little secret, a space just for the two of you that no one would know about.

"I'll find you. They can't separate us forever," she told you the day you were moved to a different unit with a few other girls. It was a week before the graduation, and she was scared that you didn't passed. That day, they took away the light of the group, and things has never been the same anymore. Maybe that's why they kept you for so long, to instil hope in the hearts of the other girls, only to rip it from them later. To break them into obedience.

The blonde kept her promise. She's been looking for you since she left that place. You were the last piece needed for the new life she wanted to start, and the most important one. It's been years she hasn't see you, what if she can't reconignise your face? What if you don't even remember her? All these questions were swirling in her head as she was waiting in her car, parked in the other side of the street. It was never easy to track a widow, especially when they seem to have done everything to make you disappear form the files.

After a few months, she eventually got a lead. She found a file about a mission you've been working on a few years ago but, most importantly, she found the widow that was sent in with you, the one she was waiting for in front of her building.

"Where is she?" she asked, showing a picture of you to the woman. The latter frown but when she eventually recognize the young face she was being shown as yours. However, all she gives to the blonde is a sad smile. She didn't need more to understand what those desolate eyes meant.

Yet, she didn't believed until she was shown the place of your grave. She wasn't even sure if you were there, they probably left your body were it died or maybe they burned it. She doesn't know, and she is not sure she wants to. That day, she left the cimetery without the ring she has bought for you when she got out, tossing it in the bushes.

As she walked away, she could still hear your voice and the promise you made that day. The one you've never — and will never — kept. You lied, and you breaking her trust was the hardest thing she's ever had to accept in her life.

| REQUEST GUIDELINES — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

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[buckets-and-trees]

FALLING AWAY

Characters/Pairings: Alpha!Bucky x Female!Omega!Reader Word Count: 1.5k Summary: After his public claiming of you, Bucky still has more in mind to show his takeover of the pack and the lands that he has annexed along with that power.

Content/Warnings: omegaverse; explicit smut: public sex, exhibitionism, vaginal penetration, breastplay, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding, biting/claiming

Author Notes: Sequel to the drabble I wrote for Alpha Bucky in April, but does not necessarily need to be read before reading this. Hitting the breeding kink for @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo June prompt; and the dialogue, noisy sex, and exhibitionism prompts for the first week of Hot Bucky Summer.

There’s only a small part of you that wishes giving in to the leader of the HYDRA pack had been more difficult.

To be fair, you had resisted until the lives of others were at stake.

At that point, standing on principles seemed selfish, especially when it was evident Alpha Bucky Barnes had unequivocally taken the upper hand.

And then he had taken you physically to seal his victory publicly in the town square, knotting you, ripping orgasms from you, making him beg for you, and claiming you with the first mating bite.

Now you walk towards him willingly underneath a full moon three nights later.

For two of those days, the alpha had been relentless in plying your body with pleasure and fucking you through states of pain and bliss into exhaustion.

He had left you alone today, but only to yield you into the hands of a team of betas who had bathed you; plucked, waxed, and trimmed your body hair; buffed your skin and rubbed it with mild sweet oils that complimented your natural scent; cleaned and arranged your hair; and dressed you in an impressive bridal gown of silk and lace, but no underwear.

Many alphas and omegas bonded without a ceremony, but some pairs still chose to participate in the formal affair.

Your omega side had yielded to him fully at his first bite.

This ritual, however, was something that hadn’t taken place in living memory - a conqueror’s bonding, only necessary when one alpha or pack assumed power over another.

As you step up next to him, surrounded by witnesses (official witnesses and unofficial but curious), a shiver runs down your spine as his piercing eyes rove over your heaving chest. He licks his lips.

There is no officiant at the altar, only the two of you.

You know he must feel the piece of you that is valiantly still trying to fight him, because he cocks his chin slightly, and his gaze hardens as he looks down at you.

He takes the half step necessary to close the small amount of space between you. He raises one hand, and traces his thumb over your first bonding mark, eliciting another shiver from your body, but it’s more powerful - visibly noticeable to everyone watching.

Humiliating, but also unfurls a shoot of desire in your belly.

He then lets his hand rest there at the base of your neck, holding you, steadying you.

“Omega,” he utters, the deep tone seeming to wrap around your chest, the only word to signal what he wants next.

And so you tilt your head to the side, baring your neck to him.

A double bonding is biologically unnecessary, some couples engage in it, but the second claiming at midnight on a full moon was the sign of consolidation of power to the alpha and submission by the omega.It was predetory, performative, political.

Though there was the small part of you still clawing at you to fight him, you can not deny the part that had rooted in you that wanted him, wanted this, yearned for this claiming - so much so that you gasp and one of your hands shoots up to tangle in his hair as his teeth sink in to your neck, marking you a second time.

The rush of it is more than physical, though. You are flooded with even more of him inside of you, the bond doubling with the second bite.

His tongue laps at the fresh bonding mark, and you mewl softly and sink slightly into his chest.

“Up on the altar,” he instructs. “Present for me in front of these witnesses.”

His request comes as no surprise, even if you hadn’t anticipated it.

He had fucked you in public before, totally unabashed, why would he not subject you to that again? It had not been detailed in the historical records for this rite, but surely other conquering alphas had done more than merely administer the second bite when it said they claimed an omega for the second time.

And it was well known that knotting and breeding at the full moon enhanced the possibility of conception when an alpha knotted an omega.

All the better to ensure compliance and alliance.

But as Bucky pushes the delicate layers of silk and lace up over your bare ass once you are kneeling on the altar, the semantics leave your mind, and all you can focus on are his movements and the vague awareness that there is an audience to everything happening.

He sinks two of his vibranium fingers into your cunt, and he hums at finding you slick and wet for him already. He pumps those fingers slowly, priming you.

Shamefully, you whine when he removes them. You should be more resistant, more ashamed that he’s going to fuck you in front of a crowd again, shouldn’t you?

But he’s immediately crawling up on the altar behind you, kneeling between your legs, pushing your knees further apart to accommodate your big, burly alpha, the largest man you’ve encountered in your life. He leans over your back, his thighs meeting the backs of yours, his coarse hair a start contrast to your smooth skin there. He grips the back of your neck and turns your head so you’re looking back at the crowd.

His lips are at your ear as he speaks only loud enough for you to hear. “I’m going to take this slow, and I’m going to fuck this cunt until there’s no one left to watch.”

You shudder beneath him.

“You may pretend to be disgusted or ashamed, but after the other night, I think you like it.”

”No,” you breathe, and turn your head away from the scores of eyes glued your coupled actions.

”Yes, Omega,” he says. He moves his hips, rubbing the length of his cock against your wet pussy and the thatch of pubic hair growing damp with the mess of your slick as his hard length moves up and down against you. He tugs at the neckline of your dress until your breasts spill out.

“You like how they watch, you like how it feels to have them watch, to hold their attention, their lust, their envy, their fascination.”

His hands have been skimming over the swells of your breasts, but now he punctuates the last word with a tweak to one of your nipples, and you yelp.

“You don’t have to admit it, ‘mega,” he continues to murmur right next to your cheek, his hot breath affecting you just as much as every other feeling of him against and along your body. “I could feel the moment your body surrendered to the pleasure and debauchery the other night, and I know I will feel you hit that surrender again tonight.”

He gives your nipple another, harsher tweak, eliciting another yelp, but then he palms your breast, and you can’t help but moan.

“That’s a start,” he says, then licks the shell of your ear, causing a ripple of pleasure down your neck and spine.

“Alpha,” you plead - but for what you’re not sure.

He presses you down into the full presentation position, your face and chest forced down to the altar, and he leans back up straight. While his right hand holds you down, his left hand guides the tip of his cock to your entrance, and you keen for him.

He notches just the tip of himself into your tight heat.

“Louder, let everyone hear you,” he says, then sinks in to the hilt with one slow, powerful thrust, and you do moan openly at the fullness.

He has you so full with his cock that it’s like you can feel him everywhere inside you.

“Let them see without question who you willingly belong to now, Omega.” You can’t tell if it’s a taunt or an endearment at this point, but he grips your hip with his vibranium hand and begins to fuck you in a way that has you forgetting every thought that isn’t him in a matter of moments as with a double bond, the way your dual pleasure mingles and feeds off of each other falls away and all you want, breathe, feel, and crave is him. More of him. And maybe that is more of you showing anyone watching how well you take your alpha and how the pleasure he exacts from you is beyond anything you’ve felt before.

“Going to knot you and fill you with my seed until you’re bursting and dripping my spend, Omega, fuck a pup into you.”

And as you steadily are worked towards your first orgasm of the night, you know you will take him and all his complications and complexities because this - this all-consuming feeling that only he has ever given you - is undeniable and you’re insatiable for it and the enigma that is your alpha.

You scream of ecstasy shatters the atmosphere of the room, scattering some away, but drawing some to take a step closer, but you’re oblivious to the effect, and only urge your alpha to give you more.

JUMP TO PART THREE: EVERY MINUTE OF IT full Fine Line Collection

So. Yes. I didn’t think I’d write more for these two, but here we are. How ya feeling, friend?

Technically mean alpha Bucky wasn’t winning the poll I put out earlier today, but he was still haunting my muse, so I had to write him anyway… so I guess that means you’ll still be seeing the poll winner from me later this weekend.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 1, Day 2, Day 7

“Help me!” | Scream | Nightmare

| next >>>

Contains: royalty whump, lady whump, non-POV character death, murder, blood, sort of drug mention but fantasy context

WC: 360

A silent scream

The nightmares never ceased, even as the years passed. That night repeated itself like clockwork.

The grating heaves of her breath as she raced through the halls, listening to the carnage as it drew ever nearer.

The clang of weapons as blades hewed through bodies and slit the air until all she could smell was blood.

The shaking of her fingers as she locked the door and waited for death to come for her, too.

The words, clotted and silent at the back of her throat: Help me. Words she could not say, for if she did, they would find her, and if they found her, they would slaughter her, as they had her mother, the queen, and her father, the king. As they’d butchered her brother, a year younger yet centuries braver than she. His eyes had turned glassy, his throat slashed, his blood soaking into the cracks between the floorboards and staining his vestments—simple bedclothes, not armour, torn asunder in the attack launched by cowards and traitors.

Her brother had died with a command for her to flee on his lips, and she had.

In a room vainly barred and locked, she had stayed still, watching the door.

In life, she had clung to her elder brother’s hand—he unconscious, lost in the thrall of the drug that protected him from the horrors in his own mind but could not shield him from the horrors without. And she had waited, silent.

In the nightmare, the details were ragged as fraying satin—edges blurred, truths melting into gruesome fancy. Blood seeping below the door, soaking into her slippers. Ghostly visions of her murdered family haunting the window, the mirror, the sheen of every tear. She fought, wept, stirred her brother from his stupor, avenged her loss with courage and not cowardice. She screamed. Help me.

In the dream, she always screamed.

“Help me!”

In neither life nor nightmare did her plea change the outcome: a door bursting open, splinters littering the floor like minatory flakes of snow. Flashing steel stained with blood. The thick tang of death flooding into the room.

And a voice.

“Well. What do we have here?”

@juneofdoom

June of Doom Masterlist

| next >>>

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

[anas-aspiration]

Listen

Reader x ellie williams

Short drabble

Summary : A simple June walk in the woods can turn extra hot when you’re ovulating and annoyed. You don’t know how to talk about it but ellie notices the difference of attitude.

Warning: semi public sex, oral r!receiving, fingering r!receiving

“Mm- fuck ellie” you mutter, gripping the tree log beneath you.

Ellie had you leant back on a log facing the a shallow stream that she had just sketched in her journal. She dragged you outside of Jackson on a long walk to sit and draw you cradling your knees in front of this stream she found weeks ago, knowing you were on the first day of your ovulation cycle, and needy.

“You’re so wet baby, you really needed this didn’t you?” She was on her knees with her mouth placing wet kisses on your pussy, using your thighs as stability and softly massaging them.

“Mhmm..” you draw out.

“You want more? Hm?” You nod.

She gradually drags her slender fingers up your thigh, slightly massaging it along the way before sliding a finger into you. You whimper her name as she slowly pumps into you.

Overwhelmed, you glance down at the ground where her journal lies with the page of you and the creek sketched in. She drew you with such care and detail it turned you on even more to know she stared at every inch and curve of your body to make it look so flawless on paper.

She looks up at you and follows your eyes to find what you’re looking at.

“You like it baby? Did so well sitting still for me…you looked so perfect in that tiny top nd shorts..so perfect.” She brings a hand up to massage your boob softly, while adding a second finger to your cunt. “You like me looking at you like that don’t you?”

“Yes ellie” you gasp out.

She picks up the pace and you become taken over by the knot in your stomach and the lewd wet sounds overcoming the sound of the stream a few feet away from you.

“I-uhn..I’m gonna come. Fuck.” You whine.

“I knoww, i got you.”

Your knees begin to buckle and you buck into you hands when you throw your head back as your orgasm hits you like a truck.

“Fuck, look at that baby..” She helps you ride it out, not stopping until you begin to slide down the log.

“Thank you thank you..” You spew out breathless.

With a smirk on her face she assures you and helps pull your panties and jeans.

“We’ll finish this when we get home baby.”

All fucked out, you sigh, knowing exactly whats coming.

A/N! Sorry this is so short. I had a dream and three gingerbread cookies and just had to make some sort of magic happen. But theres more where this came from. And this is lowk bad, like whyd i actually forget how to write..

Please please request

[dearly-somber]

sharp teeth | m.list

pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

sum. Jungkook—a love struck puppy pining for Y/N’s affection. Y/N—an oblivious, hard-headed tsundere too thick to realize a shifter likes her. What could go wrong?

genre. slow burn, pining, mutual pining, eventual romance, shifter/werewolf!au, suggestive at times, eventual smut, i2l (idiots-to-lovers), f2l (friends-to-lovers), fluff, humor, found family, established relationship, high school!au, university!au

total w/c. 23,227 (including drabbles)

overall rating. 13+

collection. mini-series

a/n. Main Series and Drabbles are finally in chronological order, woo-hoo!

Available to read on: AO3, Wattpad

Listen to the Sharp Teeth playlist on Spotify!

© dearly-somber

started. June 30th, 2022. finished.

🌕🌔🌓🌒🌑🌘🌗🌖🌕

Main Series

It’s An Affectionate Thing | Jun 30th, 2022

Naked | Jun 18th, 2022

Yours | Jun 30th, 2022

Warm | Jun 30th, 2022

Purr | Nov 8th, 2023

RBF | Oct 30th, 2023

Because It’s Soft | Feb 26th, 2023

stand still (i’m sniffing you) | Feb 19th, 2024

Twister | Sept 16th, 2023

Haircut | Nov 30th, 2023

Heat Stroke | Jun 10th, 2023

Body Art | Jun 23rd, 2024

I Like Me Better | Jul 6th, 2024

Oh No! | Aug 3rd, 2024

The Moon Will Sing |

🌕🌔🌓🌒🌑🌘🌗🌖🌕

Drabbles

Sharp Teeth | Jun 30th, 2022

Feel The Burn |

In My Bed |

20/20 Vision | Jan 28th, 2024

Y/N’s parents meeting the pack |

Jungkook staying at Y/N’s house |

Girl Talk |

Whine, Whimper, Weep | Sept 26th, 2023

‘cause your love, is my drug |

Graduation | Jul 11th, 2024

Y/N meeting Jungkook’s parents |

Drugs, Sex, and Al•Co•Hol |

Soft Blankets, Cold Days |

All The Right Ways |

Do It Again |

Y/N reacting to Jungkook’s tattoos |

In My Bed, Pt.2 |

Birthday Boy | Sept. 1st, 2024

Cuddling With Your Partner |

Love You Like That |

🌕🌔🌓🌒🌑🌘🌗🌖🌕

Extras

What’s The Prob? Dog. — First Draft.

What’s The Prob? Dog. — Second Draft.

What’s The Prob? Dog. — Third Draft.

[milksnake-tea]

hey all !! normally i wouldn't engage in something like this on my blog, but considering that it's happening to a friend of mine, i felt i had an obligation to speak out. sorry for clogging up the tags/interrupting your scrolling 😭

tldr: @/hxveneru has stolen the works of my good friend @lowkeyren not once, but twice and is deleting any comments calling them out.

edit: they've changed their user to @/yneri; if you've blocked them already, this doesn't really matter bc they're still blocked :) reminder to not engage with them, they're just looking for attention. block and ignore!

i know. fun stuff. proof is under the cut.

please note that i'm doing this of my own accord, and the only involvement ren has had in this post is me asking for permission to post it since, well, it's an issue mainly affecting her.

also i should say beforehand but. don't ??? send them death threats please 😭 we are better than that. i'm mainly making this to spread awareness about the issue :)

reblogs are appreciated to spread awareness.

first stolen work is ren's oneshot "drunk words, sober thoughts!" for aventurine here.

as you can see, it was posted on June 15th, a little over two months before hxveneru posted their own oneshot.

for reference. hxveneru is a new blog and all of their posts are in the month of september, proven here via their archive.

and here's the two oneshots side by side, with ren's on the left and the stolen one on the right.

notice how the oneshots are exactly word-for-word except for the title and synopsis? even the author's note is exactly the same. obviously i can't fit the whole thing here, but this should be enough.

honestly it's. i have to laugh at the audacity to just copy and paste like hello???

and here's the second work that was copied, with hxveneru's "diff scenarios w hsr men" taking from drabbles from two of ren's works.

these are the two fics that were stolen from, with their dates attached. both are posted far before september. links are here and here if you want to double check..

now let's look at the drabbles that were - once again, copy and pasted. first is blade's, again with ren on the left and the stolen one on the right (ren's is circled bc they didn't take the hcs part).

and here is the sunday drabble that was stolen.

so far, those are the only works posted on their blog. i was also informed that they had apparently stolen from @/exuvianen's post here but deleted it, but since said post is deleted, we don't have evidence for that so take it with a grain of salt.

but yeah! just wanted to let yall know out there, especially since the plagiarized works have already gained some traction and have 100+ notes on them. i've talked about them vaguely on my blog before, so if this sounds familiar, yeah this is them.

plagiarism is shitty, i shouldn't have to say that. it is not that hard to just write your own stuff. i know validation and publicity make you feel good, but stealing someone else's hard work is not the way to go. writers already have enough to deal with. just don't do it. what's the point of getting validation if it's not even your work?

again, don't send death threats, please. that's a bit far, and they likely won't even do anything since the plagiarizer has already been called out before and this was their response.

not a single ounce of remorse or shame. people have gotten way too comfortable on here.

also "who the hell is ren anyway" bestie you blocked her 😭😭 and ignored her ask to you. that's why ren can't dm her to sort it out privately btw, in case you were wondering.

anyways! that's all i have to say, thanks for sticking around this long and have a great rest of your day. hxveneru if you see this. hi ig ?? id say smth to you but i doubt you'd take it seriously so i won't <3

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook misses you before he even leaves.

idol!jungkook x reader / angst, fluff / word count: 3.7k

content/warnings: they both cry, they’re so in love and anxious of being apart 🥲 pls somebody give my babies a box of tissue damn it!!! / making out :") might be one of my favs i’ve written heh cherry koo ily

> in which masterlist!

note: hi hiii this serves as a prologue kinda to the giving up drabbles <3 and as to not confuse the timeline, this one takes place in sept 2018 and the first giving up drabble june 2019 ^^ hehe reblogs/feedback are appreciated + as always i’d love to chat abt ur thoughts 🥺

—

“i’ll call you when i arrive at the dorm, baby. let’s pack the rest of my things together, hmm?”

you hum softly in agreement, hiding your face on jungkook’s chest so he won’t see you yawn.

you’re so adorable, he thinks to himself with a grin.

matching his outfits with you in preparation for his travels has always been one of the little ways you spend quality time together. yes, you will be physically apart for most of this year and the next… but if he just pushes that fact in the back of his mind for an hour or two so he can make you laugh with his purposely horrendous choices, he thinks he may be able to leave with a lighter heart.

one last kiss is granted to your forehead, and you nuzzle your cheeks against his warm hands to cherish every ounce of his touch you can manage to steal.

you peek from the small space of the door to smile at your lover, which he then returns rife with fondness. you wave and bid your silly bye bye’s to each other, and it’s you who ultimately closes the door despite the voice in your head bewailing its protests.

it creates a clicking sound as you push it all the way, and after that, the defeaning silence fills your apartment like a toxic gas that makes it impossible to breathe. with no other soul left to witness it, your walls involuntarily come crumbling down. your eyes become blurry with unshed tears, and they fall one by one, some getting caught by your eyelashes. they hang heavy until they inevitably roll down your cheeks, as if they’re desperate not to crash and break, as if they’re horrified of their fate towards doom… much like you are.

recognizing the sensation of your weak knees threatening to give way, you lean your forehead on the hardwood to relieve some of the weight burdening your shoulders.

your chores have piled up while you were recklessly spending every second you had left with your boyfriend. you have better things to do than to cry. however, you can’t control your face that contorts to express the pain of having your heart mercilessly squeezed in your chest, tighter and tighter as the distance between you and jungkook grows, and it will only continue to do so.

you wind up as a heap on the floor, an intricate collection of love yet to be given and shards of memories calamitous and beautiful, knees hugged to your chest as you weep.

you swore you wouldn’t do this. you fucking swore you wouldn’t do this to yourself.

since losing your family, you’ve been alone, trying to survive in this world like a leaf in the eye of a storm, carried by a raging river that travels to an unknown sea. you then promised that no matter how much you affection you’ve grown to have for someone, if there comes a time that they make you feel lonely (skin-on-skin or heart-to-heart), you will be the one to walk away first. even if it hurts, even if it leaves you empty inside. for one, you’ve never liked wasting your time. you know what you want and what you need— someone who will stay within reach. your day-to-day life is far too draining for you to find the energy to beg for love and attention… and for the love of god, there’s already too many people you wish were still by your side.

your friends have witnessed you annihilate hearts and egos, leaving behind a string of jaded lovers.

but jungkook, with his bunny-like smile and endless gestures of kindness… has somehow slithered his way into a space in your heart where no one has ever been.

the apartment feels too empty with him not around. he’s not knocking rhythmically at your door from the inside to announce his arrival. he’s not in the kitchen humming songs while chopping vegetables. he’s not in the shower yelling at you because you forgot that turning on the sink makes his water cold. he’s not in the living room watching a movie on your laptop. he’s not snuggled closely with you and snoring execessively by your ear.

it’s going to be like this for a while. it’s always going to be like this, you realize.

you’re so fucking lonely.

you’ve only gotten used to him being here, and now you need to re-learn what it’s like to be without him.

you’re forced to gasp for air as you sob uncontrollably, interrupted by occasional hiccups that make your body jolt. you taste the salt in your tears as they seep into the crevice between your lips, can feel them beginning to poison your skin.

you let jungkook come too close. he slept on your bed and he learned that you’re always cold. he enveloped you in the safety of his warm embrace and you couldn’t will yourself to leave after the first time. you’ve surrendered to him the control over your body, and also your heart, which you may be breaking alongside your rule but… walking away would mean forsaking yourself.

for the first time, you are crying not because of the absence of love, but the abundance of it. humans are essentially a collection of dead stars that are brought back to life when they are consumed by the electric ache of love and yearning. you are addicted to the antidote that is the touch of another body that burns the same.

you’re free falling.

if you were to choose the cause of your madness, you would choose this.

because for the first time, you are not cursing a name, but the universe and its twisted ways. in your one-bedroom apartment, you don’t feel small; your arrogance is as big as the sun that threatens to swallow the earth whole. the empty space on your bed is now in the shape of the man who loves you.

the back of your head hits the door, and you sigh at the new predicament that presents itself to you: the fluorescent lightbulb at your doorway is flickering as if to signal its impending death.

your bad vision begs you to look away.

it’s too high. it’s too high for you to reach. jungkook isn’t here anymore.

you bury your face in your hands, another wave of tears spilling over before you could get a hold of yourself. your cries are unapologetic; you sound like a little child who got their hair pulled at the playground.

you would much rather wait for him than find a solution. you want to bear the weight of him in every possible way there is. you want to have him in mind every time you flip the light switch, because you always seem to forget that it’s dying after a long day at school.

but for now, all you can do is sit on the floor and smell his perfume on your clothes as you wait for his call.

—

jungkook is still frozen on the driver’s seat, struck with a suspicion that he left something behind in your apartment, but he can’t figure out what else there is besides his heart in the palm of your hands.

he opens up every single compartment of his backpack, but he soon carelessly discards it at the backseat because he has no idea what it is he’s even looking for.

“what is it? what is it? what is it?” he mutters absentmindedly to himself, wide doe eyes still actively darting around the car as he mulls over what could possibly be missing. “am i an idiot? am i just making things up in my head?”

but he is leaving for tour after all, it would be a big headache if he forgets to bring something important.

something important such as…

proceeding with a final inspection, he starts patting around his body, from his chest down to the pockets of his sweatpants.

“ahhh-” he makes a noise of enlightenment when he discovers one of them to be completely empty.

it then becomes vivid in his mind— the memory of him lazily setting down his wallet on your study table before he crawled on your single-sized bed as if it’s his own.

“…shit. i need to go back.”

—

he has a smirk plastered on his face as he jogs his way up to your apartment floor. radiating with pure excitement unbeknownst to himself, he even begins to skip a step with every long stride he makes across the staircase.

thanks to his forgetfulness, he found an excuse to be with you for a few minutes more.

the fourth door straight ahead, he still remembers chanting in his head the first time he visited your building on his own.

he stands before it with the intention to surprise you, but ironically, he is the one who ends up freezing in place. your muffled sobs escape through the narrow cracks of the door, and his hand slowly slips away from the handle until it drops back to his side. his vision becomes unfocused, mind going blank, only registering the shortness of his breath and the powerful punch to his gut.

that sweet, heart-fluttering smile that comforted him must’ve killed you inside.

—

“i won’t forget to call after every show.”

“that does sound nice but…” you scrunch your nose cutely. “i won’t be upset, if that’s what you’re worried about. go straight to sleep when you’re exhausted. i know you won’t have much time to rest.”

“please! you can watch me sleep too.” he pouts. “you know i always make it work. while i eat, while i shower! that won’t change. i need to see you and gain strength… or else i seriously think i won’t survive this one.”

and jungkook hopes that he’s not too much of a burden for loving you.

although, you did tell him once in passing— that anyone can be passionate, but not everyone will bravely go on stage every night to showcase those passions, even if it means testing the very limits of the human body.

“i can’t allow that to happen, can i?” you click your tongue, copying the angry frown of your boyfriend, who you find so, so, so cool.

his features soften after you pinch his soft cheek.

“your hyungs might kill me if i make their little one mope around missing me too much.”

“w-what do you mean?” he becomes flushed with embarrassment. “what kind of things do they tell you?!”

“nothing much.” your eyes shine with a glint of faux innocence. “when we were trainees, jungkook did this… since meeting you, he’s gotten more stubborn… can you tell him to wake up earlier if he plans on showering for an hour? you know, just things like that.”

“aish! jimin-hyung!” he releases a deep sigh to express his exasperation, knitted forehead not doing much to diminish the roundness of his eyes. “i bet one of them is jimin-hyung! i’m right, aren’t i? you- you’re getting too close with him! i can’t allow this- really, i- ah! no! no!”

the burst of laughter that fills the room only confirms his suspicion. you roll over on the bed to cover your face, half of your body collapsing on top of his, and you clutch your aching belly when he begins to aggressively shake you in a joking manner.

“listen, you can’t become best friends! you hear me? don’t! my secrets… what’s going to happen to them? who else can i tell them to?!”

immediately recognizing his poor choice of words once they have left his mouth, jungkook purses his lips in regret, and it’s his turn to feel his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen.

“oh, really?” you slowly sit up as you stare at him with raised eyebrows. “and what kind of secrets do you need to keep from me? huh?”

he doesn’t waste a second to reply, scrambling as to not leave any space for you to formulate more doubts in your head.

“nothing! nothing, baby!” he flashes a dreamy smile in return to your sharp glare. he gently cups the back of your head to pull you back closer, puckering his lips as he tries to meet you halfway. “come here- give me a kiss.”

you ignore his advances, moving away from him with a scoff you don’t even bother to hide. the annoyance bubbling up inside of you feels irrational, and yet you can’t stop it from controlling your body language.

his jaw slacks in disappointment. he despises being denied affection, more importantly, a kiss meant to be shared with you.

“are you mad?”

you turn your back against him, scooting closer to the edge of the bed, but jungkook doesn’t waste time in chasing after you.

“baby!” he whines, seizing your arm and tightly embracing you from the side before you can escape. “i was just joking- i promise- i swear. you’re even the first person i share my secrets with nowadays!”

you sigh in defeat, eyes fluttering shut as you allow him to caress your face and pepper your cheek with loving kisses. loud, and slightly wet, which you used to not be fond of when it came to the lovers you had before, but as for jungkook and his dewy lips, you weirdly don’t seem to mind.

“please don’t be mad.” he coos lightheartedly before ducking his head to press his lips against yours. “i don’t want us to fight before i go.”

“i’m not mad.” your reply is quiet, and it drips with hesitance. “i just don’t want to think about you having secrets while you’re away.”

you turn to communicate directly with his eyes. if you feel sick to your stomach imagining him as a person you’d never have the grace to forgive, you don’t show it.

“you understand where i’m coming from, right?”

he meekly nods.

this is another reason why he is eager to spend all his free time with you, albeit through a screen smaller than the palm of his hand, and perhaps buy you trinkets from every city that welcomes him because everything reminds him of you. he wants to give you the reassurance that he doesn’t have any plans on doing something that may hurt you. this will be excruciating, he knows, but it is also a chance to prove himself as a boyfriend worthy of your tears and sacrifices. this can’t end before it begins. he doesn’t think he’d be able to bear that. he just celebrated his first birthday with you. it hasn’t been long since you uttered the three words he’s been anxiously waiting to hear.

“i love you. please give me your trust for now… i won’t waste it. you’ll see, at the end of this, we’ll be stronger. i promise i won’t forget my responsibilities as your partner even if we’re physically apart.”

he tenderly strokes your hair, eyes filled with galaxies memorizing every inch of your face. he’s scared, too. he’s scared that he’s overestimating himself. too ambitious, too greedy for wanting both the world and the most beautiful person he has ever seen in it to love him. he’s scared of getting too exhausted. he’s scared that you won’t be there anymore when he opens his eyes.

“i will probably mope around, though, missing you too much…” he pauses, then he makes up his mind.

him getting more stubborn since he met you— it might just have some truth to it that he’s too sheepish to say out loud, especially if his members were around to hear it.

“yes, i will seriously be a handful.” he nods to himself. “so i’m already apologizing early.”

“what are those responsibilities exactly?”

“to show you that i love you!” he exclaims in a tone that screams obviously. “to make you happy, to keep you safe… to stay committed to you- yah, you already know these things!”

but still, it’s nice to hear him say it. this bed of roses is a bed of thorns; he has chosen to sleep on it with you.

you giggle heartily at the sight of his face getting flushed. “you’ve been doing a great job then, baby.”

the praise causes his doe eyes to sparkle with glee. “really?”

“really!” his heart skips a beat when you softly cup his face in your hands, wearing that kind smile he can’t help but fall in love with over and over again. “don’t worry, i won’t let you miss me too much. i have my share of the responsibilities too.”

—

he swallows the lump in his throat, shakily sitting on the floor with his back against the door. he doesn’t know how long he stays there. he only knows that it’s near sunrise because the lights across the hallways have gone out one by one.

with an elbow resting on top of his knee, he fiddles with the laces of his shoe with no rhythm or rhyme— silently crying with you, clueless as to what he should do. he didn’t learn about this in school, nor during dance practices. no one teaches you what to do when you hurt a person you love but there’s no fault to fix and apologize for.

every now and then, a tenant passes by, and he is overwhelmed with the urge to scream at them to fuck off and mind their own business.

adding to his frustration is his phone, which has been vibrating with calls and text messages. he only spares them a dismissive glance before clicking the off button. yes, he fucking knows it’s already 5am. yes, he’s still with his baby. however, he is forced to send a reply to his manager when asked if they could finish packing his luggages for him to save time. no. no, no, no.

on the other side of the door, the pitter-patter of mechanical rain tickles your ears. your nimble fingers doesn’t cease on tapping on the keyboard even as your eyes stray to the contact name above the conversation, just to make sure that it’s your boyfriend you’re texting.

to: my jungkook

babyyy the sun is about to rise

so i’m not sleepy anymore :(

you're not home yet?

wait. if you're still driving just reply later

be a good driver before a good bf for now ☺️

ohoh i don’t mind if you don't have time to call anymore. just text me rq before you take off pleaseee so i know you're safe and sound

and after the flight ofc!! 😭

i love you! ❤️

seconds later, a pounding at the door makes your body jolt in shock. you carelessly rush to stand up, the safety measure of looking through the peephole not even crossing your mind before you swing it open.

jungkook stuns you with his presence, chest heaving with every breath as he studies you in a fog of haze. your messy hair perfectly frames your pretty face. your parted lips are raw from the crime of your sharp teeth forcibly putting an end to your crying. your eyes are still damp with tears, and they shine every time the warm light hanging above your head flickers.

if you could only read his mind, you won’t have to worry about him wanting anybody else.

once again, he finds himself helplessly infatuated. why do you have to look utterly bewitching even when you cry? fuck, and your texts… how did he get so lucky? you fuel something carnal inside of him that he has difficulty putting into words.

and so, he allows his actions to speak for himself.

“jungk-” his name is interrupted with a high-pitched whimper caught in your throat. your trembling hands desperately grasp the sides of his hoodie as you stumble backwards, struggling to recriprocate the unrestrained fervour of his kisses.

he’s out of control. he has never kissed you like this before. you don’t know if he doesn’t feel your weak fists punching his chest or he just doesn’t care. you feel dizzy… dizzy, dizzy, dizzy.

you’re confused why he’s still standing at your doorway. you’re terrified of losing your balance. you’re crushing a pair of sneakers underneath the soles of your feet and it hurts. but his fingers are tightly tangled with your hair, the others playing a saccharine hymn along the keys of your spine, and for the pleasure he gives, you can endure to live with the pain.

the familiar taste of mint on his tongue is far too addictive for you not to indulge. you can’t stop craving for more of it, more of him, and you let your lungs burn.

but soon it mixes with the salt in his tears as his emotions crash on the shore like a tsunami. the seal of your lips is broken by a quiet sob, and in shame, he ends the kiss to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“____, what do i do? i don’t want to leave.”

your heart shatters into pieces as he sniffles, voice cracking as he musters up the courage to confess to you in between.

“jungkook…”

the words of sincerity feel heavy on his tongue. he’s never been good at this; always relied on his ability to feel. in spite of that, he wants to bare all of himself to you, and he prays that you believe him when he says- “i can’t imagine my life without you anymore.”

“so don’t. you don’t have to think about things like that.” you sigh as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, subtly swaying your bodies to soothe him. “come on, love. why are you crying…? you know where to find me, don’t you?”

you feel him nod before he mumbles pensively. “here… or school, or the restobar.”

“that’s right.” you chuckle. “just don’t lose your key. i’m not going anywhere.”

but he fears it’s his goddamn mind he might just lose. he squeezes his eyes shut, embracing you tighter as he counts the seconds in his head. he will let go after thirty, then perhaps he will stay for another ten.

in another lifetime, jungkook wishes that he could tell you the same.

—

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