#june of doom 2025

[screengifs]

@juneofdoom 2025 Day 27 EMBRACE: Brokeback Mountain (2005)

[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!

Angst, hurt/comfort, and lighter/ funnier forms of whump are also welcome! Torture takes many forms. :)

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!

[Text List]

[AO3 Collection] - "JUNEOFDOOM2025"

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

Previous Dooms: 2023 || 2024

[cricket-reader]

Carving Skin Until My Bones Are Showing

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox | Taglist

Summary: You'd thought that everything was fine, until one overheard conversation shattered the illusion, your rose-tinted glasses fading to black. The words cut deeper than anything you've ever heard, and suddenly, you're re-evaluating everything: your relationship, your body, your worth. Now, the man you love with everything you have exists peacefully beside you, as if nothing's changed, while you slowly unravel in silence. You're left wondering if he's already halfway out the door, and you're just the last to know.

Warnings: disordered eating, fainting, body image issues, insecure!reader, misunderstandings, female reader (no y/n)

word count: 4,059

A/N: it's a few days late cause i kept procrastinating on making the banner, whoops | prompt fill for day 30 of @juneofdoom | "This is it isn't it" | Doubt | Crying

{Read on A03} | what i'm listening to

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Sam.”

Bucky’s voice carries across the room and into the hallway, voice laced with mild exasperation. Sam, sitting across from him with an unimpressed look on his face, takes a sip of his coffee. You smile at the sight of Sam, his presence a welcome, if not completely unexpected, surprise at the start of your morning. He must have gotten home early from the mission he was on.

“She’s just so clingy,” Bucky says. “She literally won’t leave me alone. It’s almost annoying at this point.”

You freeze in the doorway, smile slipping off your face in an instant. His words tear through your heart, leaving a hollow ache in their wake.

“That just means she really likes you,” Sam says, shrugging his shoulders.

Bucky huffs, rubbing a hand down his face. “You don’t understand, man. It’s bad, like really bad. I can barely get any of my shit done with her begging for my attention twenty-four seven. I just need some damn space to breathe sometimes.”

You didn’t think you were that bad. Sure, you really liked to drag him away from his work for cuddles—but that was only because you thought he needed the breaks. You know that he used to run himself dry, never letting himself rest until he practically passed out from exhaustion. You didn’t want that cycle to continue. It wasn’t like you forced him to do anything. He could always say no to you. In fact, he has said no to you a few times before—when the work was too important to shove aside for later. All those times he allowed himself to be pulled away, reluctant as he was—how many of those times had he been covertly annoyed with your insistence? How many times did he wish you would just leave him alone?

Your stomach twisted, guilt looming over you. He struggled socially, ran on a limited battery when it came to social interactions—why did you think it would be any different with you? Why did you think you were special? Of course, Bucky is sick of you. When’s the last time that Bucky had some time to himself without you bombarding him with affection and small talk?

“She’s spoiled, that’s what she is,” Bucky grunts, shaking his head. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes. Spoiled? Is that what he really thinks of you? How could he say such a thing? And to Sam, nonetheless. “She eats way too damn much. She’s been gaining so much weight recently; it’s honestly a problem. She ain’t gonna lose it any time soon either with how fucking lazy she is.”

Sam snorts. “Sounds like someone needs to go on a diet.”

“Tell me about it,” Bucky huffs before taking a sip of coffee.

A wave of mortification crashes over you, tears gathering in your eyes. Heart pounding, you take a shaky step back, determined to run back to your room before either of them catches you eavesdropping.

You race back to your shared room, tears blurring the hallway beyond recognition. Once in the safety of your room, you sink down to the floor, back pressed heavy against the door. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps as you press a hand over your mouth—as if that alone could muffle the sobs wracking your body. The betrayal is sharp, sinking its claws into your chest and twisting deep inside of you. How could they say those things about you? How could Bucky say those things about you?

You weren’t that clingy, were you? You just liked being close to him, liked the warmth of his presence, the way he always made you feel safe. And sure, maybe you indulged a little too much lately, but had it really made that much of a difference? Have you clung so much that Bucky has started to resent you for it?

The words replay in your head, each repetition hitting harder, sinking deeper. He sounded so frustrated—so tired of you. Like he was already pulling away, one step from slipping through your fingers completely.

And could you even blame him?

You’ve seen the women he works alongside, the kind of people who seem like they belong in the world. Strong, confident, beautiful. Not needy. Not desperate. Not… you. Maybe he was just now realising what you had known all along—that you weren’t enough. That you never had been.

A fresh wave of tears burns your eyes, but you swallow hard, forcing them back down. You wouldn’t let this be the end.

You could fix this.

You could give him space—stop clinging, stop being so needy. You could take up less room, be less of a burden. And if you skipped a few meals, if you pushed yourself harder, maybe you could be someone he actually wanted again. Someone he’d be proud to love, instead of someone he merely put up with.

You just had to be better.

You would be better.

When you emerged from the bedroom for the second time that day, you made sure to make your arrival audible lest you walk in on them still talking about you and your shortcomings. Whilst you couldn’t stomach any breakfast, you needed your caffeine fix. Bucky greeted you with a wide, beautiful smile and a kiss on the forehead.

It almost made you sick—the way he was able to talk about you like you were the dirt underneath his shoe, only to turn around and play the role of your sweet lover. How could he act like everything was okay when he clearly held resentment against you? It almost makes you wonder how long he’d put up with you for the sake of maintaining this relationship—how long since he’d noticed your defects and realised that he deserved better. You almost feel selfish for keeping him tied to you. Now that the secret is out, there’s no point in dancing around the subject. And yet… here you are. In a kitchen you share with a man who doesn’t love you like he used to, and the man he entrusted with his troubles over you.

Just a little longer, you pleaded. You just need a chance to prove your worth. Bucky won’t have to worry about your overbearing clinginess. He won’t have to be embarrassed to be dating someone of your stature. Bucky deserves the best after everything that he’s been through; you were determined to be that for him in whatever way it took.

You startle out of your thoughts from the movement at your feet. A white ball of fluff looks up at you, meowing incessantly. You reach down to scritch between Alpine’s ears. “Hey, sweetheart,” you coo at her, abandoning your quest for coffee in lieu of holding your baby girl. At least Alpine appreciated your affliction for affection.

You don’t miss the look that passes between Bucky and Sam.

Stomach churning, you suddenly don’t feel the desire to make your coffee anymore. In fact, you don’t even want to be in this room anymore. “I’m going to go over to Nat’s,” you say, hoping that Nat isn’t too busy today.

Bucky’s brow furrows. “Weren’t we going to see that movie today?”

Shoot. You had completely forgotten about that. “We can go later, Nat wanted me to come over right away in the morning.”

“Let me make you your coffee before you go.”

“That’s okay, I’m stopping to get some for Nat and me,” you say, dismissal clear in your tone. It would have made you feel bad to act this way before—before his cruel words effectively tore your heart and spirit to shreds. You gave your baby Alpine a kiss on the top of her head, promising her that you’d be back soon before seeing her back on the ground. You grabbed your purse and sped out of the door without even saying goodbye to the two men.

You spent the majority of the day with Natasha, dread curling around your insides every time you thought about going back home, back to Bucky.

You had promised him that you’d be back to see the movie; however, so, too soon for your liking, you say goodbye to Nat and walk back to your apartment.

There’s a vase of your favourite flowers sitting on the counter when you enter. You frown at the sight, not sure why he would bother when he’s obviously upset with you.

You walk into the living space to see Alpine curled up on Bucky’s lap, his work laptop abandoned on the coffee table. Bucky greets you with a smile, setting a protesting Alpine aside to stand up and give you a welcome home kiss.

“What time were you thinking of for the movie?” He asks, arms resting around your waist.

Frustration begins to creep into your chest. If he had a problem with your clinginess, why is he initiating contact? That’s not fair. How are you supposed to leave him alone when he does stuff like this? “Doesn’t matter to me,” you shrug, not able to meet his eyes.

“There’s a showing in an hour, how does that sound? We can go get dinner afterwards.”

“Sounds great,” you replied.

The movie would have been great if you hadn’t sat there stewing in your own anxiety the entire film. Afterwards, Bucky took you to your favourite restaurant where you ordered a salad with the dressing on the side. Bucky’s brows furrowed at your unusual choice, but he didn’t say anything. The dinner was stilted and awkward, both of you running out of things to talk about sooner than usual.

For the next few weeks, you successfully distanced yourself from your boyfriend. You ignored the way your heart ached every time you saw Bucky alone on the couch, wishing you could go over and snuggle up to his warmth. You learned to ignore the hunger pangs, the way your stomach felt like it was eating itself. Your head split open with the force of the headaches pounding against your skull, vision swimming every time you stood up too quickly.

It’s fine, you told yourself. Who really needed breakfast anyway? Why eat lunch when you could have a few snacks? Bucky was right, you really did eat too much. You could survive on one meal a day, snacks thrown in when your hunger got the best of you, or your hands began to shake too much. You were getting better for him, though, so it didn’t matter. You were eating less, clinging less—just like Bucky had wanted; so why wasn’t he happy yet?

The bed felt colder than usual.

You used to sleep tangled up in Bucky’s arms, leeching off of Bucky’s furnace of a body. You used to tuck your perpetually cold feet against his legs, laughing off his grumbling about how your toes felt like icicles.

Now, you curl up at the farthest edge of the mattress, not willing to accidentally touch him when he clearly wants to be left alone.

You used to look forward to getting home from work, ready to melt into your supersoldier’s arms at the end of a long, tiring day.

Now, you’re filled with dread, wondering if this time will finally be the last.

You used to love the shared dinners at the worn table you had found at a thrift store long ago. Bucky and you would take turns choosing what meal to prepare—you had been on a mission to introduce him to the world of flavour the 21st century had to offer; he always used to say the best part of the ordeal was watching your expectant face as he tried the first bite.

Now your stomach twisted at the mere thought of eating in front of him. His words echoed through your brain with each bite you took—it was enough to make you sick.

Bucky had grown short and snappy with everyone (except you) lately; Natasha had complained ad nauseum about your grumpy boyfriend the last few times you’d hung out. You couldn’t help but think that all of those weeks of your overbearing clinginess were finally catching up to him, as if talking to Sam had opened the floodgates. He has finally realised what his problem was: you.

You really were too late to fix this. No amount of distance could fix what damage had been done. Bucky had a foot out the door for a long time now, and you had been too oblivious to notice.

It was a typical Tuesday when Bucky sent you a text that shattered any hope of repairing your relationship.

>>>Hey, after work, can you come straight home?

>>>We really need to talk.

The cursor blinked steadily even as your hand shook. Tears quickly blurred the damning texts beyond recognition—not that you’d ever forget those words; the words that signified the end of the best thing to happen to you.

After crying in the bathroom for the entirety of your lunch break, you passed through the rest of the day in a haze. Your coworkers knew something was wrong, of course, they did, but you didn’t offer up any explanation.

You felt something press against your throat as you slid the key into the lock, suffocating you with every step you took towards him. There was no point in prolonging the inevitable any further. You wouldn’t continue to drag Bucky down.

The vase of flowers was still sitting on the counter—he’d been buying you a new batch every time they started to wilt. Was he cheating on you? Was that why he was getting you flowers so much more often? The thought was something you’d have previously thought inconceivable, but now you weren’t so sure.

Breaking you from your thoughts, Bucky called out your name from the living room. You forced your gaze away from the flowers and to the living room.

Bucky was sitting on the sofa, hands clasped in between his knees and head hanging low. Your stomach swirled at the sight. This was it, wasn’t it? He was going to cut his losses—cut you from his life.

You crossed your arms, tucking your hands out of sight to hide the way they trembled. You waited for him to say something, not willing to be the person to instigate the conversation.

“Could you sit down?” Bucky asks, sounding so small as he gestures to the armchair. You walk over to the chair, despite wanting to stay as close to the exit as possible—ready to run away as soon as his words cut through you like a knife.

Bucky sighs deeply, his hands running over his face. You almost reach out for him, wanting to comfort him, wanting to kiss those lines away from his forehead. Stopping yourself, you remind yourself that it’s not your place, not anymore, and it hasn’t been for a while now.

“This isn’t working anymore, doll,” Bucky says, not even able to look at you. You saw it coming a mile away, and yet it doesn’t take away the anguish those words bring you.

You know you should say something, but words seem to escape you as soon as you open your mouth. Instead, a hot ball of grief and shame lodges in your throat. Tears spring to your eyes, despite telling yourself that you would not let him see you cry over this. It’s for the best, you try to tell yourself. You were but a stepping stone to Bucky’s recovery. You should be grateful that a man like him even offered you a second glance. Despite the way things ended, you know that you’ll look back on all the memories you made together and smile. Because, for once in your life, you knew what it was like to be loved so wholly. You knew what it was like to have a man who cared so deeply, loved so openly, and gave you enough devotion to last a lifetime.

“Yeah,” you agree with him for the sake of things. You hope he won’t look too deeply into your unshed tears, the way your voice wobbled and the way your body trembled. “I… I should go.”

“Doll-”

You cut him off before he can get another word in. “No, just… let me-”

Standing up to run away from this awful conversation, you feel the world sway around you. Black fades in at the edges of your vision as you stumble forward. You think you hear Bucky calling out your name under the sharp ringing in your ears. Clenching your eyes shut, you brace yourself for the hardwood floor.

—

“Doll?”

You groan as something prods your side. Just five more minutes, you think, burying your face into the warmth surrounding you.

“Sweetheart, please!”

Is that Bucky? Why does he sound so worried?

Blinking up at your boyfriend, you find that you’re both in the living room. Bucky’s clenching onto your body like a lifeline. “What’s wrong, Bucky?”

He stares blankly at you for a few seconds. “Doll… you just passed out.”

“Oh,” you eloquently respond.

The fog covering your brain begins to lift bit by bit. You were both sitting down… Bucky was… he was breaking up with you.

Jolting, you scramble out of Bucky’s arms, pushing him away, away, away.

“I’m sorry,” you say, covering your heated face in shame. “I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

“Don’t be sorry, honey.” He scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you say, despite knowing full well that ever since you started skipping meals, you’ve been prone to blacking out if you stand up too fast.

Bucky frowns at you, eyebrows furrowed. “I feel like you aren’t telling the truth right now.”

“It doesn’t matter, Bucky.”

“Like hell it doesn’t matter! You just fainted. If I hadn’t been there to catch you, you’d have cut your head open on the side of the table. Tell me what’s going on!” Never before had you heard Bucky sound so worried.

“Why do you care so much?”

“Why do I–Why do I care?” Bucky scoffs in disbelief. “You did not just ask me that.”

“You’re finally breaking up with me, you don’t have to pretend to care about me anymore,” you shoot back, venom lacing your words as you extricate yourself from under his arm.

“Breaking… I wasn’t going to break up with you,” Bucky says as if the idea alone was unimaginable.

“Bullshit! I know that you’ve been wanting to break up with me for weeks—months even!”

“Where the hell would you get an idea like that from?”

“I heard you talking to Sam last month. You told him that I was clingy and lazy and fat.”

Bucky looks positively bewildered at your words. “I would never say any of that crap!”

“But you did.” You cross your arms, daring him to continue lying to you.

“Why the hell would I ever say that? I sure as hell don’t think any of that-”

“Oh, give it up, Barnes. Who else would you have been talking about? Who else is such a spoiled, lazy, clingy, fat-”

“Oh my god,” Bucky interrupts you. “Are you talking about that time I was complaining about Alpine?”

Your heart stops in your chest. “What?”

“I was telling Sam about how annoying it was trying to work from home. She’d always sit on my damn laptop and yowl in my face until I payed attention to her.” Bucky shakes his head—his bemusement is quick to fade, however. “You seriously thought that I was talking about you?”

Sniffling back tears, you nodded your head.

“Oh, Jesus, doll. Why didn’t you say something?” Bucky wraps his arms around you. “Hell, if I ever said something like that, I’d expect at least a slap to the face.”

“But I was too clingy, always cuddling you and giving you kisses-”

“Is that why you haven’t so much as touched me the last few weeks?”

“I thought you wanted me to stop,”

Bucky squeezes you tighter. “Never. I’d never want you to stop. Doll, I thought you were mad at me. I kept buying you flowers and making your favourite dinners to try and get you to forgive me. But you didn’t even give them a second glance, and half the time you’d already eaten or you’d just push the food around on your plate.”

You melt into his embrace, his reassurances a balm over the lingering anxiety of being too much for him. “I was just trying to make you like me again.”

“Doll,” Bucky pulls away from you, sounding completely gutted. “You should never change yourself to make someone like you more. I love how clingy you are—I missed you so damn much.”

“What about…” No, you can’t ask that—you don’t want to hear his answer. “Never mind.”

And Bucky, damn him, doesn’t let it go. “What about what?”

“It’s nothing,” you say, pulling away from him.

“Doll, please don’t shut me out,” Bucky pleads, using those sad eyes that always make you fold.

“It’s just… You never… Do you have a problem with what I look like?”

Bucky’s frown deepens. “Of course, not. Doll, you are so damn beautiful-”

“But I could be thinner. Lots of other girls are prettier and skinnier,” you interrupt him. You freeze at the way his face hardens.

“I love you just the way you are, sweetheart. You don’t have to change a god damn thing about you. You want to know who drives me crazy? You. You want to know who I want to spend the rest of my life looking at? You. When I fell in love with you, I fell in love with all of you. It’s always going to be you. I don’t want no one else, got it?”

“I…” You stumble over your words, tears burning in your waterline. “I started skipping meals again. That’s why I passed out.”

Bucky’s face turns ashen. “You… you stopped eating because of me?”

“I didn’t completely stop eating! I had snacks and dinner most days. It’s not that big-”

“So help me god if you were about to say that it’s not that big of a deal,” Bucky interrupts you, voice sharp. “You need to eat, doll. This beautiful body cannot live without food.”

“I just thought… I thought if I started skipping meals and working out more, I’d look more like Nat or Sharon or-”

“If I wanted someone that looked like them, I’d ask them out. You wanna know why I asked you out? It’s because I thought you were hot. It’s because you’re as gorgeous on the outside as you are on the inside. I don’t want you to look like Nat, I don’t want you to look like Sharon. I want you to look like you.”

Bucky says it with such conviction, you can’t help but allow the tears to fall down your face. “You really mean that?”

“Of course, babydoll. You’re it for me. Don’t want no one else.” Bucky pulls you back into his arms, nuzzling his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder. “Call off of work tomorrow.”

“What? I can’t-” You screech as he lifts you into his arms. Clinging to him like a koala as he makes his way to your bedroom, you protest every step of the way.

“Hush,” he says, laying you down on the bed. “I have been deprived of your cuddles for too damn long. We’re gonna order whatever you want, and snuggle all night long. Then tomorrow, I’m going to make you a giant breakfast and we can go on a picnic for lunch.”

“I don’t ever want my best girl doubting my love for her again, got it?” Bucky asks, leaning over you.

You huff at his antics, rolling your eyes. He pinches your side, only the hint of a grin belying his angered expression. “Got it?” Bucky asks again.

“Yes! Okay, I got it!”

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you know just how loved you are,” he says as a promise before leaning in and kissing your lips.

That night, as you snuggle into his warmth, you endeavour to never let a misunderstanding like this tear you apart again.

Taglist: @hallecarey1 @harleycao @filmsbyblair

[multiverse-of-multifandoms]

@juneofdoom 2025 Event Day 22: "Stay with me." Katniss Everdeen & Peeta Mellark in The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2

[writinggremln]

June of doom 8 - "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Concussion | Mugged | Drugged

Part 2

"Hero?" Villain nearly cackled at the sight. Hero was a lot of things. Hero was a beacon of light, a bringer of hope, a shining star in the middle of the darkest sky. Brave, kind, strong. Incredibly stubborn. Annoyingly stubborn. Frustratingly stubborn.

What Hero wasn't, well... Hero certainly wasn't the moaning, pathetic mess that was laying in front of Villain's estate. It couldn't be. But then again, that physique was certainly their nemesis'. The stance however...

...left a lot to be desired.

Hero's body was hunched forward, their legs shaking as they wobbled and fought to stay straight. "V'll-.. V'llain..." they slurred. Oh my God, were they drunk? The villain's lips curled upwards. This was a rare sight.

Villain crossed their arms over their chest. "Taking a stroll, my darling?" Their eyes followed Hero's shaking hand, which was aiming (and failing) to reach out to them. Oh, they were enjoying every second of this. "It's dangerous to just roam about in this area, though." They eyed the trembling hero from head to toe. "Especially in your state."

Hero slurred something that sounded like either "shut up" or "fuck off". Not that it mattered, since it came out as garbled nonsense anyway. The villain laughed.

"You don't look so well, darling." They tilted their head to the side, leaning against the wall, as if they hadn't a care in the world.

"Villain, I..." Hero froze suddenly.

"Hm?"

"I..."

"...Hero?" Villain tensed a little. Hero let out a loud whimper before they fell on their knees with a loud thud. They were still shaking, but they seemed... unresponsive to the villain, who now sat on one knee in front of them. Villain slowly put a finger on Hero's chin and tilted their head to see their face better.

They were not drunk, they realized. They were drugged. Their eyes were too unfocused and unaffected by the blinding light coming from Villain's house.

"Hero." Villain demanded. "Hero, look at me."

The hero didn't even blink.

"Hero, darling." That seemed to spark something. Hero groaned and Villain cupped their whole face with their hand. They raised the other, showing off their middle finger. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Hero only blinked, a bit of drool pooling on the bottom of their half-opened mouth. Villain sighed. The other was worse than they thought. It was a miracle they were able to walk to Villain's house. Wordlessly, they hoisted the hero up in their arms and brought them inside.

"...whyre..." Hero grumbled in their arms.

"Hm?"

"Mphr..."

"Please use your words, darling. I can't understand a thing you say." The villain said as they layed the drugged hero on their bed.

"..why... why armh.. why are you..." Hero trailed off and let out a deep sigh, as if even talking took most of their energy. Maybe it did.

"You're the one that came to me." The villain whispered in their ear as they shifted Hero into a more comfortable position. "Why did you come to me?"

Nothing.

"...Hero?"

Still nothing. The villain groaned, a bit annoyed. "You're no fun like this, you know." They patted the hero's cheek gently. "You better pull yourself together, darling, or I'll get bored."

"Huh?..." Oh, good, they were back again. "V..Villain?"

"Hello, darling." The villain kept their hand on Hero's face while the other scrolled on their phone. "I'm gonna call the doctor. And when this is over, I'm going to make you tell me exactly who did this to you." They stroked the their cheek. "Am I clear?"

Hero only whined and leaned their face on Villain's hand.

"Good." The villain smiled and pressed call.

[otaku-girl-ao3-fics]

Baby steps |  Sergei x Reader | Kraven the Hunter | M | 2.6k

Kraven the Hunter | 2.6k  | Sergei x Reader | Mature

30 days, 30 fics | Aaron Taylor Johnson character masterlist | AO3: Otaku_girl

Summary: After a long hunt, Sergei returns home feeling overwhelmed. You find him in the midst of sensory overload. Comfort and fluff ensue.

Author's notes: June of doom day 18 - How long have you been like this?

Baby steps

“How long have you been like this?”

You cross the room in a matter of moments, sinking down onto your knees. You daren’t touch him, not yet. Not until you are sure that your touch will be welcome.

Sergei lies curled up at the centre of a mound of throws and blankets, all past hunts, not a single scrap of manmade fabric in sight. His brow is furrowed, little wrinkles of pain around his eyes and mouth as he curls tightly into a ball, bare skin covered in a light sheen of sweat despite the chill in the air.

Blue eyes creep open and you feel your heart breaking. Sergei reaches for you with unsteady hands, flinching as he encounters the woollen fabric of your dress instead of bare skin. 

“I’ll take it off in just a moment, Sergei. It’s too cold out here for me. Let’s get you to the bedroom, hm? Can you tell me what happened, darling?” You wince as the term slips from you without meaning to. Sergei has never been a fan of being babied outside of your little sessions as you have taken to calling them for a lack of a better word. He’s so used to being in charge, to being the one who fixes things, to being someone worthy of looking up to, that slipping into that kind of headspace where he gives up control and allows himself to be soft isn’t easy for him. It’s why the two of you don’t do it nearly as often as you would like — nor as often as you know, deep down, that he would like. 

He makes it to his feet slowly, wincing as the low afternoon sunlight catches him just so. You press one of the furs to his chest, waiting until he curls around it protectively, before you drape a second over his head, shielding him from the worst of the light. Skin on skin would be better right now, but until you have him in the bedroom, furs will have to do. 

“There’s my good boy. Not far to go,” you murmur, guiding him carefully. 

“Too much.” His low, rumbling voice is barely loud enough for you to hear, but you let out a low hum of your own to let him know that you have heard him. The walk to the bedroom isn’t far, the door closing behind you with a click. You note the way that Sergei flinches, even that sound too much for him to bear. 

Guilt gnaws at you. You knew when he came back from his last hunt that something wasn’t right. Too many days away, too long under cover, no satisfied smirk or quietly whispered story of success as the two of you lay beneath the stars and got reacquainted. You should have known better than to leave him alone, to go about your day as usual, while he slept in following your rather enthusiastic reunion. Sergei never sleeps in. 

“Have you eaten anything today? Or drunk anything?” He doesn’t need to say a word for you to know what that expression means. It wouldn’t surprise you if he doesn’t realise nearly a day has passed since his return. “You really are in a bad way, aren’t you, sweetheart? It’s going to be okay.” 

You brush back a sweat-soaked curl as he sits on the edge of the bed, eyes following you like a hawk. They’re unfocused, you realise, taking in the hazy edge to his gaze. It’s as if he is not fully aware of what you are doing, yet knows that you are still here. That you are someone he can trust. 

Read the full fic here:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/66677335

AO3: Otaku_girl | 30 days, 30 fics | ATJ character masterlist

[whump-imagines]

Do You Need an Ambulance?

Kelly x reader

WC: 1500 ish

She calls Kelly to take her to Med in the middle of the night.

This one is since Kelly was so close behind in my poll the other day.

@juneofdoom day 5 quote in bold below.

------

A stabbing pain through your abdomen woke you from a sound sleep. You'd had some mild pain with some nausea when you'd come to bed but this was fifty times worse.

You rolled hoping that the shift in position would lessen the pain. All it did was cause your stomach to roll so violently you thought you would puke all over the bed. You managed to get yourself up and into the ensuite before emptying your stomach onto the floor. “Ugh. Damn it.” You muttered as you carefully lowered yourself to a clean spot next to the toilet.

You threw up once more before you began to dry heave. It was excruciating, intensifying the pain you'd already had even more.

When you finally stopped, you were exhausted. Your head was pounding and you felt clammy as you started to shiver.

You managed to clean up the floor before you stood gingerly. You made your way to the vanity and when you spotted your reflection you cringed. Dark circles were stark under your eyes and your skin was so pale it almost seemed translucent.

Before returning to bed, you grabbed the thermometer from the medicine cabinet. You placed it under your tongue as you flopped back onto the mattress. When it beeped you looked at the read-out: 102.2°. “Perfect,” you grumbled. “I need Kelly.”

You grabbed your phone and cringed when you saw it was only 3:51 in the morning. You tapped Kelly's name on the screen and were shocked when he answered after only one ring.

“What's wrong?” He was immediately on alert.

“Are you guys on a call? Why are you awake?” you asked, ignoring his question.

“We just got back from a fire,” he explained. “I just got out of the shower. What is wrong?”

“I need you to come pick me up,” you offered. “I don't feel good. I think it might be appendicitis.”

You could hear a staticky noise you assumed was him running his hand across his scruff. “Why do you think it's your appendix?”

“Nausea, vomiting, fever, and abdominal pain. Like really bad abdominal pain,” you explained. You shifted on the bed again and sucked in a sharp breath at the flare of worsened pain. “Fuck. Kel, it really hurts. If it's not my appendix then something else is really, really wrong.”

“Do you need an ambulance?” he asked.

“No!” You protested. “Ugh, no. I just need you to come and drive me. Please.”

“Just a second, let me tell Boden.” You heard muffled voices through the phone. “I'm coming. I'll be there in a few minutes.”

“‘Kay.” You stood and headed out of the bedroom, planning to meet him outside but even walking was making the pain worse and you ended up settling on the couch instead.

Kelly kept talking, trying to distract you. After a few minutes you heard his car shut off. “I'm parked. I'll be up in a minute.”

“I'll be here,” you tried to joke as you hung up.

The door swung open and Kelly immediately knelt beside the couch. He pushed a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. “Sweetheart, you're not looking so hot.”

You scowled. “Rude. The thermometer disagreed. It said I was 102 degrees of hot.”

Kelly just rolled his eyes at you.

“I was going to try to meet you outside, but even walking makes it hurt more.” You shifted trying to make yourself more comfortable. Tears welled in your eyes and you quickly blinked them away. “Can you carry me?”

“Of course, I can.” He kissed your forehead softly as he pushed to stand. He easily slipped his arms under your back and knees and lifted you. “Let's go get you fixed up.”

“Yes, please!”

If you thought walking hurt, it had nothing of riding in a car. Every bump in the road felt like absolute torture.

Kelly squeezed your hand, offering the only comfort he could. “Just try to breathe, sweetheart. We're almost there.”

You closed your eyes, trying to picture yourself anywhere else.

“Hey,” Kelly squeezed harder, “stay with me. Don't fall asleep.”

“I'm here,” you squeezed his hand back. You wanted to explain you were picturing white sandy beaches and rolling mountains but couldn't seem to get the words out.

What felt like several minutes later, Kelly pulled up to the ambulance entrance to Med. He quickly rounded the car and scooped you out of the car.

Maggie saw Kelly coming through the sliding doors with you in his arms. “Incoming! Rhodes! Halstead! Treatment two!”

“Jesus,” Will muttered. “What happened?”

“She thinks it's her appendix,” Kelly explained.

“What do we have?” Connor asked joining you in the treatment room.

“Possible appy,” said Will. “Why do you think it's your appendix, Y/N?”

You groaned. “It hurts.”

“Where?” Connor asked.

“BP is 160/90, heart rate 105, pulse ox 96% on room air, and temp is 102.5” Monique rattled off.

You gestured vaguely. “Here.”

Someone pressed near your belly button and you cried out in pain.

“She said she threw up earlier, too,” Kelly added.

“Hand me the ultrasound,” Connor requested. The wand was pressed near your right hip bone and you gasped in pain. “Alright, yeah. Appendix is starting to rupture. We need to get her into the OR right now.”

Kelly appeared at the head of the bed and kissed your forehead again. “See you soon.”

You smiled. “Love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

“Let's move,” Will ordered.

They quickly got you up to the OR and situated for surgery. Connor leaned over you and explained that he would be right back after scrubbing. “I'll get you feeling better, deal?”

“Deal.”

A few hours later

Your eyes fluttered open to a bright room. You felt like you were floating or that you'd had several drinks. Looking around, you spotted a handsome man in the chair beside your bed.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He smiled at you as he noticed you were awake.

You giggled. “You're pretty.”

He chuckled. “Back at ya.”

“So pretty,” you slurred. “What's your name?”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “It's Kelly. You don't remember me?”

“Kelly.” You tried out his name. “I think I like you.”

He laughed, a beautiful, full body laugh, and it was the most amazing sound. “I'm glad. I don't just like you… I kinda love you.”

Your mouth dropped open in surprise. “Wow.”

“Guess what?”

“What?” You grabbed onto his forearm waiting for his response.

“We’re engaged.” He slipped a ring out of his pocket and onto your finger where a tan line was already visible.

“Wow!” you exclaimed again before yawning. “I'm sleepy.”

Kelly leaned over to kiss you softly. “Go ahead and sleep. I'll be here when you wake up.”

Another hour or so later

“Everything looks good,” you heard Connor say. “Her temp is down, so the antibiotics are doing their job. She should be awake soon.”

“How long will she be here?” Kelly asked.

“Uhh, probably two days of IV antibiotics before we will discharge,” Connor answered.

You groaned.

You felt Kelly’s fingers against your cheek. “Are you awake?”

You cracked an eye open just enough to see him sitting beside the bed. The room was dark but you could tell by the light around the shades that it was bright outside. You shook you head.

“You know who I am?” Kelly asked, smirking.

You scowled at him. “Why wouldn't I know who you are?”

“When you woke up in recovery you told me I was pretty and asked what my name is.”

You snorted. “Well, you are pretty.”

“How're you feeling?” Connor asked.

You shifted, assessing. “Sore, but way better than before.”

“Good. Sore is to be expected,” Connor said. “Do you need more for pain?”

“I think I'm okay right now. I am kind of starving though.”

Connor gave you a sympathetic look. “Sorry to break it to you but you're stuck with clear liquids only for at least a few hours. I can have the nurse grab you some broth and jello if you want.”

“Better than nothing, I guess.”

He nods. “I'll have it brought up. Then just grab a nurse if the pain gets worse, okay?”

You gave him a thumbs up and he disappeared out of the room.

“Sorry for making you miss half your shift,” you told Kelly.

“It wasn't half my shift. It was only three hours of my shift. And there is no where I would have rather have been that taking care of you when you needed me.” He chuckled. “Even if you don't know who I am.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ass.”

“You love me,” he argued.

“That doesn't mean you can't be an ass.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

“Whatever you say, dear.” He stood and kissed your forehead. “If you're feeling up to it, you have a few more visitors wanting to see you.”

You smiled. “Yes, please. I'm always up for 51.”

He nodded, as if knowing that would be your response. “I will go grab them.” He turned to leave winking at you as he went. “I love you.”

“Love you most!”

[lilacxquartz]

a moment of panic; choso kamo x f!reader

plot: choso was still new to relationships, let alone taking care of people, so when you risked becoming seriously sick, it almost broke him — cw: psychological pain/panic/anxiety for this one, maybe some sick fic elements, reader likes to pretend she’s more fine than she actually is, choso freaks out a lot

for june of doom, day 5: “you’re not looking so hot” for the theme of hypothermia • w.c: 2k • more june of doom stories • read on ao3 • masterlist

Choso held your onto your hand as you both walked along a river bank that wasn’t too far from home. His fingers were weaved tightly through yours and on occasion, his thumb would brush against your knuckles. He was still hopelessly new to dating—to being with you—but he knew that these quiet moments with you were everything.

However, nearly everything you did, gave him pause. You were much more impulsive than he was and that made you unpredictable. Choso loved that you were always about living in the moment, but it also worried him, because it meant that you had a bad habit of downplaying serious things.

“Careful,” he murmured as you walked along the slippery edge. There were gradually less stones fitted this far into the walk, so the chances of an accident occurring was becoming more and more likely.

“I am being careful,” you assured him, leaning into his side before straightening your back once more. Though just as you said that, you failed to fall back into step and crashed into the water instead.

Choso’s reaction was immediate. He rushed to your side within a second and pulled you out before you could even begin to process what had happened. One moment you were trying to balance yourself and then another, your whole world tilted as you slipped off into the river. All you could do was blink as he sat you down on the grass, fretting and fussing over you.

Choso kneeled in front of you, keeping you steady by holding onto your shoulders. Any composure that he held onto just moments before had vanished, replaced with a tone that sounded panicked, “Are you okay?” he kept asking as he scanned your body with worried eyes. “I’m so sorry, I should have caught you.”

You shook your head as you tried to come back down to earth. In your mind, bad things only happened if you allowed yourself to freak out. Therefore if you said you were fine, then you were. “I’m alright, I promise. Just a bit cold, but it’s no big deal.”

Choso froze at that mention. “Wait. You’re cold and you’re soaked. I think Shoko said something about this…”

You tilted your head. “About falling into rivers?”

“No, no, no. When she was teaching me about emergency field medicine, she said in the unlikely event that someone experiences…” he trailed off, trying to jolt his memory, “something about when cold meets warm? Hypo…hyper…therm…?”

“Choso, are you trying to say 'hypothermia’?”

He paused. “…Yes.”

You sighed as you watched him quickly succumb to panic. “I think it might genuinely be fine. Like, it was just a quick dip into some water. You have to be really, really cold for it to be serious.”

However, Choso simply wasn’t having it. He reached out and wrapped his arms around around you, pulling you into a tight hug. “Is this helping?”

“I think you’re colder than I am, actually,” you joked, trying to keep things light.

“Oh, right…” Choso trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I forgot that me being a death painting means I’m not that warm.”

You picked yourself up from the ground as he followed you up as well. “You’re too sweet, Choso. Look, we’re not too far from home, right? So let’s just go back and I’ll run myself a warm bath or something.”

He nodded along warily as you spoke, hovering his hands around you just in case you somehow fell in front of him. He tried to remain calm, but he couldn’t stand to see you in pain or sick. He loved you so much that it almost hurt.

“S-sure,” he stammered out, “but I’m going to be carrying you back.”

You blinked at him, tilting your head off to the side. “I didn’t break a leg, though. I can walk back—“

Although, before you could say anything else, Choso had already scooped you up and held you against him. “Yeah? And what if you trip and fall and break your leg on the way back, hm?” he murmured, refusing to back down from needing to protect you with all that he had.

You leaned your head into his body as he walked. “You’re so cute when you get like this,” you sighed, “but I promise you that I’m fine.”

When you had both reached your shared home, Choso walked you in and sat you down on the sofa nearby. He then took a step to determine your condition which resulted in his lips dragging into a frown.

Just after taking one good look at you, he could already tell that something was wrong. Your face lacked its usual complexion and your breathing sounded shallow. Any visible skin appeared to be blotchy, too.

Within an instant, he dug his hands into his pockets to grab onto his phone. He still wasn’t used to modern technology, so something like a phone was still a strange concept to him. In fact, when you had first started dating him, he took so long with texting that you caved and ended up buying him an older flip phone instead. In a way, you liked that more, because you spent so many nights just rambling away as Choso happily listened.

“How does this thing work…” he mumbled as he tried to bring up a number, but failing to do so as his fingers were too clumsy. The panic was making him second guess himself in everything that he did. “I need… Shoko’s number, but how do I… it’ll be in contacts, right? But how…”

You branched out a hand in an attempt to help. “Here, let me. You want to call Shoko, right?”

Choso stopped his fussing and just nodded, handing you the phone. “Yes, please. I’m sorry that I’m so useless.”

“You’re not useless,” you were quick to comfort him as you brought up Shoko’s number, letting it dial before pressing the phone back into his hand. “There we go. You’re fine.”

“Um,” Choso started as he greeted Shoko on the line, trying to keep his voice calm as he did so, even as the panic could be clearly heard. You heard as your name got thrown around in the call a few times as he tried to explain the situation as best as he could.

Admittedly, you didn’t feel too great. There was an insistent bone-deep chill that settled into your core that you couldn’t shake off and that wasn’t the only thing. Your vision was starting to swim, too. Swirling patterns formed as you tried to blink them away but to no avail. You tried to keep awake as Choso talked and got to work around you, peeling off the soaked clothes from your body and patting you dry with a towel. After that, he slipped in and out of the room, gradually covering you in as many blankets as he could find.

He then took a step back and blinked at you.

You blinked back.

“How does she look?” he repeated a question that Shoko must have asked him. “I don’t know, she doesn’t look so hot. Kind of out of it? Wait, what do you mean let her sleep it off and call if it gets worse—“

Just as he was in the middle of asking Shoko what else to do, however, your vision finally went out and then, so did you. Your head was the first thing to tilt as your eyes rolled back, and then your body followed next, crashing onto your side on the sofa.

“I-is she supposed to faint?” he whispered into the phone, looking at you with sheer terror etched into his eyes. “Oh, right, of course not… wait, you’re coming here? How long—oh yes, I can let you in when you get here. Yes. Okay. Thank you so much.”

Choso set the phone down on the coffee table and then crouched by you, looking at you with such fear that he could barely function. He then remembered something that Shoko said about tending to people, taking on the decision to turn your body over into a recovery position.

And then eventually, the front door knocked.

Choso almost tripled over his own two feet as he rushed to the door, allowing Shoko to step inside.

He unintentionally crowded her, trying desperately to act calm but continuing to fail as his emotions surfaced. “Is she going to di—“

“—Calm down,” Shoko said, holding up her hand, “and move aside.”

Choso gulped hard but he allowed Shoko the space that she requested. Instead of hovering by her, he watched intently from a distance as she pulled on a pair of gloves and set to work.

“All this from falling into a river?” she asked in disbelief.

Choso nodded and strained out a response. “Yes…”

Shoko sighed deeply and then leaned back, allowing her palms to rest over her thighs. “I’ll be honest, she doesn’t look good, you were right about that,” she admitted, pausing to recollect herself for a moment, continuing right before Choso was about to freak out some more.

“Is she going to di—“

“—No,” she stopped him. “She’s going to be just fine. In fact,” she added, crouching right by you once more, “I’m going to help her out by speeding things up a little.”

Choso blinked as he watched Shoko’s fingers fan over your body, settling the pads over the clammy contours of your skin. She took one deep breath before letting it out and channeling her reverse cursed technique, pushing it into you.

It was an immediate sensation and it felt as if she was transferring a pleasant sensation directly into you. Slowly, but surely, she pulled away the cold that had since then enveloped you and let replaced it with a gentle warmth.

And just like that, you had stirred back to being awake again. Your eyes fluttered open and you looked much better than before.

“Choso?” you mumbled out, still disoriented from everything that had happened.

From the second his name had left your lips, Choso bridged the short gap between him and you, pulling you into his chest within a heartbeat. His arms circled around your back and your face was pushed into his chest, holding onto you like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Are you okay now?” he asked.

“Well, I can’t breathe—“ you replied, your words sounding muffled as you spoke into his chest.

“What? But Shoko fixed you…”

“Choso…”

“You’re fine, right?”

“Choso—“

Shoko was quick to intervene. “I think you’re holding onto her a bit too tight.”

Choso blinked, but finally got the memo. Albeit reluctantly, he pulled back and loosened his hold on you. You were fine. Sure, you looked a little dazed and maybe a bit too out of it for his liking, but you seemed much healthier than before. “Oh,” he said simply, “you’re okay.”

You nodded and leaned back into his chest, willingly that time. “I’m okay.”

Not that you intended to do so—and so quickly—you fell back asleep. Shoko remained where she was, insisting on an overnight stay to keep an eye on you, so technically, Choso should have also been fine. However, as soon as your breathing out, he finally let everything that he was holding onto, spill out into the open.

All of his worries, anxieties, fears—it was all a mess. Shoko looked away and pretended to look at her phone to not make it more awkward than it had to be.

Heavy tears rolled down his cheeks as he shuddered out ragged gasps of air. Choso held on tightly around you again, doing it as tight as possible without crushing you that time. “Don’t do that to me ever again,” he pleaded, “please,” he added, “I hated thinking that you were going to die. I hated it so much. I love you so much. Too much. More than anyone else.”

He then pulled back, still looking sad, but he wiped any remaining tears away. He hated having to be strong for you when you were in pain, but he would deal with it again and again if it meant being with you for as long as it could last.

[madmarsii]

Wolf and Little Goat

June of Doom 2025 | 9. Hammer

---

“You heard the story, right?” Whumper circled around Whumpee, swinging the hammer playfully. “About the baby goats?”

Whumpee sank deeper into the corner. He didn’t dare to breathe. Didn’t dare to look up.”

“Mother told them not to open the door to strangers. But they didn’t listen. Do you know who was waiting outside?”

Whumpee whimpered, curling in on himself, shoulders hunched like he could somehow disappear into his own body. Every beat of his heart slammed against his ribs, frantic, deafening—a terrified drumroll building toward a nightmare he couldn’t wake from. His breath caught in his throat as Whumper strode closer, his heart hammered faster and faster, so much so Whumpee hoped it might stop and spare him of what was about to come

“A wolf.”

Whumper smiled, his mouth full of sharp teeth. He moved closer to Whumpee, grabbed his wrist and yanked him to the middle of the shed.

Then came the blow, sudden and brutal. Whumpee didn’t even register the swing before agony exploded in his ankle. A white-hot burst of anguish shot through him, short-circuiting his senses. His vision blacked out, then flashed blindingly white as he screamed.

Pain.

This much pain will surely kill him.

“I told you not to run.”

Whumper’s words were in haze.

“I told you there would be consequences—but you had to be just like another baby goat, right?”

Whumpee couldn’t breathe. The pain was overwhelming. Monstrous.

“But we can play this game. Look,” Whumper grabbed him by his hair and yanked his head to the side. “Do you see that box? There’s wolf waiting inside.”

“Please,” Whumpee choked. “No.”

Whumper smiled again, his beastly teeth catching what little light there was . “You should run, little goat.”

---

I only took a little part of the prompt, but the story wanted it that way. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless <3

@juneofdoom

[beheworthy]

@juneofdoom 2025 | Day 21: Breaking Point Thor Odinson in the Marvel Cinematic Universe

[every-whump-in-a-while]

Toby is shot and passes out from blood loss, is psychically overwhelmed by all the people in the hospital, and nearly collapses while attempting to convince Oz that he's fine.

@juneofdoom Day 4 - "It's really not that big of a deal."

Oz's voice shaking while they wheel Toby in, "I'm not happy with this whole shooting thing" - great stuff.

[screengifs]

@juneofdoom 2025 Day 20 WOUND CLEANING: Beauty and the Beast (1991)

[juneofdoom]

[cricket-reader]

Shadows Wrapped Around My Neck

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox | Taglist

summary: One night, your boyfriend’s anger goes too far. Deciding you’ve had enough, you run away to the apartment of the only man who makes you feel safe—the man who has shown you nothing but kindness and respect: Spencer Reid.

warnings: domestic abuse, strangulation, alcohol abuse, violence

word count: 5,050

A/N: prompt fill for day 17 of @juneofdoom | "Give me another chance" | Bruises | Begging

{Read on A03} | what i'm listening to

Large hands wrapped around your throat, cutting off your air supply. Your hands reached up to his wrists, nails biting into his skin as you desperately tried to pry his hands away. As the air left your body, the face in front of you blurred, black seeping into the corners of your vision. The last thought that crossed your mind before you passed out was that you didn’t want to die, not like this.

You woke up with an aching throat. Your head felt like it was going to explode as soon as you opened your eyes, the bright light seeping in from your bedroom too much for your sensitive eyes. Clenching your eyes shut, you tried to piece together what happened last night—it wasn’t rare for you to wake up with chunks of your memory missing and bruises littering your skin.

When you got home from work, you were so tired. The week had been long, facing nothing but one problem after the other at work and trying to douse the fires by yourself before they consumed the business was not easy work. You had settled down on the couch, thinking you could take a quick nap before your boyfriend came home. In your state of exhaustion, it hadn’t even crossed your mind to set an alarm.

By the time your boyfriend got home, you were still sleeping peacefully on the couch, his supper nowhere in sight. He woke you up by pulling you violently off the couch by your already bruised wrist. He had berated you and belittled you for what seemed like hours, and you had had enough. This whole week had been nothing but constant abuse, from both work and home. You had snapped. Stupidly, you had yelled at him, telling him that he can make his own damn food. Following it up with a rant about how he never did anything–how he was so lazy and useless probably wasn’t the best idea, but you were sleep deprived and your patience had been growing shorter and shorter with each passing day, your short fuse had been lit and it was far too late to extinguish it by the time the consequences came.

You had come so close to dying. You weren’t stupid, you knew that it only took minutes for death to occur from strangulation–if Spencer were here, he’d probably be able to tell you several statistics about domestic violence and strangulation.

It was almost funny. Before, you had only wished that something like this would happen. Death seemed like the only way out of this relationship. No one would believe you if you had told them, and even if they did believe you, you had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. But it seemed fate had something else in the cards for you when you met the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI. They had worked with your boyfriend on a case a few months back. You had met Agents Emily Prentiss and Jennifer Jareau when you went to the police station with a note from the serial killer–unsub is what they called him. He was targeting you next, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to be as scared as you should have been. You were at a really low point in your life then. With nothing to live for, you had numbed yourself to your surroundings, barely keeping your head above water as you trod the choppy waters.

Emily could see it; of course, she could—she wasn’t a profiler for nothing, after all. Perhaps that was why, even after the case was solved, she invited you out with JJ and a woman named Penelope, who you found out was also a member of their team. Life was finally starting to look up for you. You had friends again (all of your previous friends had been cut out of your life when your boyfriend moved you to Virginia). You knew he didn’t like the fact that you had made friends again, but he never forced you to cut them out of your life. It was probably your saving grace that he didn’t.

Eventually, the girls’ nights turned into invitations to go to team events. Emily always teased that you were her plus one when you tried to refuse to go, citing that you weren’t a part of the team. She liked to say that you were her arm candy for the night, playfully flirting with you the whole time. She never failed to make you laugh.

It was there that you properly met Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Morgan, and Dr. Reid. Without the threat of a serial killer looming over them, they were a much more fun bunch than you had originally assumed. Rossi was an excellent host, only rivalled by his ability in the kitchen. Hotchner–Hotch as he told you to call him, actually smiled and laughed a few times (which you were told was a rare occurrence). Morgan effortlessly teased you as if you’d been a part of their little group for ages. Reid was a walking encyclopedia, always ready to share random tidbits of information with you.

You felt like you had regained some control over your life. No longer shackled to work and home, you found yourself feeling liberated. Whenever they were free, it seemed at least one of them would try to rope you into some kind of hangout. Your favourite was when Spencer would meet you at the library or a cafe. There was something so cathartic about sitting in each other’s presence, reading your own books, and not having to fill the space with idle chatter. And when you two did talk, you found his endless source of knowledge and rambling adorable.

They pulled you from such a dark headspace, and you couldn’t imagine what your life would be like if Emily had never invited you to get drinks that one Friday night.

Your boyfriend had never hurt you like he did last night before. He had a drinking problem, you knew he struggled with it for a long time. At the beginning of your relationship, he told you that he was getting clean because he didn’t want to be like his father. He really tried, you know he did. Every time he would slip, he’d wake up the next morning, tearful at the sight of bruises you hadn’t had the night before. He’d promise to get sober before the whole cycle started over and over again. The worst part about it was how you kept making excuses for him. He would never hurt you sober. It was the alcohol. He didn’t mean it. He loved you.

Last night, however, was your last straw.

He could have killed you. It was the first time you had truly thought you were going to die from his rage, and you knew that it was only the beginning. It finally clicked for you. He wasn’t going to change. No matter what he said, he wouldn’t get sober–not even for you. If last night was any indication of your future, you knew that you’d die by his hand. You couldn’t let that happen. You’d let this relationship go on for far too long, giving him way too many chances to clean up his act. Well, he had his last chance. There were going to be no more excuses. You couldn’t keep living like this. Not when you knew of kindness and gentle hands, not when you knew of sweet words and laughter. You deserved better. It had only taken seven brilliant people to convince you of that fact.

Your boyfriend walked into the room, a tray of food balanced in his hands and an apologetic smile on his face. “I made you breakfast, babe,” he said.

You sat up in bed, stomach swirling and head pounding violently. You needed to get out of there. Pushing yourself off the bed, you stumbled into the wall. Black spots danced across your vision as your boyfriend frantically dropped the tray on the bed to steady you.

You blearily pushed his hands away from you. There were red scratches littered on his hands and arms, only serving to further remind you of what those hands were capable of. “Go away,” you said, bracing yourself against the wall to try and regain your strength. You surprised yourself with how rough your voice sounded. “I’m leaving, I’m done.”

The way he said your name grated on your nerves, knowing this tone better than the back of your hand. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was just so mad. Please, babe, I love you so much.”

You scoffed, brushing past him to your closet. “I’m done. We’re over, okay? Just… just leave me alone.”

He followed after you. “Give me another chance, babe. I promise it’ll never happen again. I’ll get clean, okay? Just please don’t leave me.”

“I can’t even tell you how many times you’ve told me that. I can’t believe you. You never change. It’s like you don’t even want to help yourself. It’s honestly pathetic. I gave you too many second chances; I won’t give you any more.” You rifled through your closet, looking for some clean clothes to throw on. You could come back to get your stuff later–maybe you could convince Derek to come with you in case your boyfriend started to get violent. You knew that your boyfriend would be way too intimidated to even try anything if Derek was watching over you.

“So, what?” His voice rose with every word. “You’re just giving up on me? On us? After all we’ve been through-“

“You mean after all you put me through?” you snapped at him, your throat aching with the effort of speaking so much.

“Oh, don’t do that.” He pushed your shoulder, forcing you to look at him. “This is ‘cause of that stupid fed, isn’t it?”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, I know about your little dates with that pathetic little loser. You thought you could keep that from me? I can’t believe you’d leave me for someone like that!”

“I’m leaving you because you hurt me all the time, and I’m sick of being your victim,” you said, eyes brimming with fury.

“It wasn’t even that bad! You’re just exaggerating everything. Besides, you have nowhere to go. I’m the only one that cares about you-”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you interrupted him, “I have friends now. They care about me way more than you ever did.”

“So you are leaving me because of them. I knew it! Which one is it?”

“Oh, get over yourself! You always wanted to see what wasn’t there. I should’ve known; jealousy issues are like one of the first red flags.”

You tried to stomp out of the room, clean clothes be damned, but he grabbed your arm, his grip bruising. “Let go of me!”

“You’re not leaving me!” He yelled, spit flying into your face. “You can’t leave. You’re all I have, and I can’t lose you.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you tried to kill me.”

His grip falters, hurt flashing across his face. “I wasn’t trying to kill you, baby. I love you. Why can’t you understand that? You just make me so angry sometimes. It’s not my fault.”

“And I’m supposed to believe it’s my fault?”

“Yes!” He aggressively agreed. “It is your fault. I wouldn’t be forced to hurt you if you didn’t make me so mad. I can’t help it sometimes. That doesn’t mean I wanted to kill you, though. I really do love you… even when you make me angry.”

“Well, I don’t love you.” You shift in his grip, trying to get free. “I don’t think I’ve loved you for a while now, if I’m to be honest with you.”

You watched as betrayal swept over his face. It was quickly replaced with rage. “You fucking bitch!” He screamed, backhanding you. “I gave you everything! Without me, you’d be nothing. How could you be so ungrateful? After all I’ve fucking done for you?”

You scrambled away from him, face stinging and heart beating out of your chest as you watched the man you used to love unravel before you. You’d never seen him this angry; he wasn’t even drunk this time.

“I’m sorry!” you cried out, blocking your face with your arms as he stalked over to you. “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry!”

“You’re an ungrateful little whore. I bet you’re screwing all of your new friends. I can’t see why else they would put up with you.”

A sob caught in the back of your sore throat as he continued to rant about how worthless and stupid you were. You wished Spencer were here. Out of everyone on the team, it was probably him whom you had grown closest to. He invited you out so often, you doubted that he had anyone else to share his life with. It made a part of you sad that he was so lonely he’d resort to hanging out with you (someone he only knew because one of his coworkers picked up on your abject misery), but it also, selfishly, made a huge part of you glad that you were the one he chose time and time again to rid him of that loneliness.

So maybe your boyfriend’s jealousy over Spencer wasn’t completely unfounded, but could anyone truly blame you?

Spencer was everything your boyfriend wasn’t. He was so kind, so inherently good. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he’d never raise a hand to anyone he dated. His words would never turn needlessly cruel, his hands would never bruise the skin of his lover in the name of anger.

You latched onto his kindness and held it tight. You didn’t realise how much you had needed it before Spencer—didn’t realise how rare it was for your own boyfriend to give you even an iota of kindness. The scraps of love and kindness your boyfriend gave you weren’t enough. You needed someone who could care about you more than half the time; someone who didn’t only show you care when he felt like it. You wanted someone who put as much effort into the relationship as you did.

A sharp pain shot through your scalp, disrupting your line of thought.

“Are you even fucking listening to me?”

Your eyes watered as you sat up to try and alleviate the pain. “Stop, you’re hurting me! Let me go!”

“Promise me that you’re not going to leave me! Promise me!”

“Okay! Okay, I promise! I’ll stay, I’ll stay… just please stop hurting me.”

Your body shook as a violent bout of coughing took over. It felt like shards of glass were lodged in your throat, scraping your esophagus raw and bloody. Your boyfriend sighed as he released your hair, crouching down beside your trembling figure. “I’m sorry, baby. You just shouldn’t make me so mad. You can’t leave. We love each other, and we’ll be together forever.”

You flinched as he reached up to smooth down your hair, bile rising in your throat. You just wanted to leave. But there was no way you’d be able to escape—not with him in the room with you. You wondered what Spencer would do in this kind of situation; he’d know what to do. He practically dealt with volatile people for a living.

Thinking back on it, you remembered him rambling about de-escalation tactics out in the field. Whilst you weren’t dealing with a serial killer, you could probably apply that knowledge to the situation you found yourself in. If you could just play along with your boyfriend—convince him that you’d stay with him, maybe you could run away the next time he leaves you alone. You just hoped you could be convincing enough to fool him for however long it took for you to get alone.

“Come now, eat your breakfast before it gets cold,” he said, voice soft and gentle as he guided you from the floor to the bed.

“I’m not hungry,” you rasped, the words barely audible. Frustration flickered over his face. Heart racing, you said, “I need rest. ‘m tired.”

“Okay, baby. I’ll go put this away, and we can cuddle. I know how much you like cuddling.”

Tears in your eyes, you watched him walk away. The only times he had cuddled you since moving to Virginia were after he hurt you. How you didn’t realise that until now was beyond you. He used to be so open with his affection, sitting down to watch a movie with you pressed against his side. Sweet kisses and cuddling in bed–not pushing for more.

You didn’t want his comfort anymore. The last thing you wanted right now was to cuddle him. You wanted to be as far away from his hands–the hands that almost killed you–as possible.

When he came back into the room, you were sniffling on muffled sobs. He made a pitying sound before climbing into bed next to you. His arms felt stifling as he wrapped them around you, pulling you closer to his body.

“Shhh, just go to sleep, baby. I’m right here. Everything’s going to be okay,” he cooed, his hand running over your head in what was supposed to be a comforting motion.

You closed your eyes and forced yourself to relax. Just a little longer. You just had to hold on for a little while longer.

When your boyfriend finally did leave the apartment after you convinced him to get you food from your favourite restaurant, you wasted no time in grabbing your dead phone and your coat. Slipping on a pair of shoes, you booked it out the door. The restaurant was in the opposite direction of Spencer’s apartment, ensuring that your boyfriend wouldn’t run into you on the way over.

By the time you arrived at his apartment, you were shivering, your hands frozen, and your shoes drenched with the slush and snow that covered the sidewalk. You buzzed up to his apartment, praying that he was home. You had nowhere to go if he wasn’t.

A woman exited the building, glancing at you. She did a double-take upon seeing you, her dark eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Are you okay, hun? Do you need somewhere to go?” Her voice was thickly coated with a southern accent, warm and soothing.

“I just need to get in the building.”

“Sweetheart, if someone is hurting you, I can get you help.” She handed you a card from inside her purse. “I’m a doctor at the battered women’s shelter down the road. Let me take you there.”

You realised then that you didn’t have the time to cover the bruises that no doubt were painted on your skin before leaving. “I got out. I’m okay, my friend lives here. He’ll help me.”

“Alright, sugar, but if you ever need anything, the shelter has room for you, okay?”

You nodded, thanking the woman for her kindness. You must’ve really looked awful if the woman’s face was anything to go by. Shame curled inside you, its tendrils wrapping around your heart. You didn’t want Spencer to see you like this. What would he think of you for staying in such a toxic relationship for so long? Would he blame you for not getting out sooner?

Slipping into the warm building, you tucked your hands back into your pockets in search of warmth. You climbed up the stairs, breaths laboured as if you were trekking a grand mountain. By the time you reached Spencer’s floor, you had to lean against the wall to clear some of the spots dancing in your eyes.

You knocked on his door four times, leaning against the frame. There was no response. Knocking again, you hoped that he was just busy with something in there—that he just didn’t hear you. You didn’t know what you would do if he wasn’t home. After knocking on his door three more times, your hope flickered out. You could’ve cried if you hadn’t shed all the tears that you had earlier that day.

Instead, you walked over to the side of his door and slid down against the wall. You could sit and wait for him to come home. Best case scenario, he was out shopping or at the library; worst case scenario, he was on a case and wouldn’t get back for several days. Whatever the situation was, you felt safest staying here. There was no way your boyfriend knew where Spencer lived. You didn’t have anywhere else to go that he wouldn’t think to check. You just hoped that no one kicked you out of the building.

You grumbled as something nudged you out of unconsciousness, not ready to wake up just yet. You were tired and sore–everything hurt, and you just wanted to fall back into blissful sleep.

The prodding was relentless, however, so you reluctantly opened your eyes. Craning your sore neck up, you were greeted with concerned brown eyes and messy, curly hair. Spencer called out your name, his brows furrowing as he took in the angry red handprint on your cheek.

“Spencer,” you croaked out, voice frail and hoarse. “You’re here.”

“What happened?” He asked, crouching down to your level. He took your face in his hands as he peered into your eyes. He furrowed his brows, breath stopping at the sight of your bloodshot eyes. He lifted your chin, inhaling sharply at the mottled bruising wrapped around your throat. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

“I didn’t know where else to go, ‘m sorry. You were close.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he chided. “You should have called me. How long have you been waiting for me?”

“Phone was dead. What time is it?”

“It’s almost four in the morning.”

Your eyes grew large. “But it was just six o’clock.”

Frowning, Spencer bit his lip. “We should get you to the ER.”

“I’ll be fine,” you protest, knowing full well that you couldn’t afford a visit now that you’ve run away from your boyfriend, who put himself in charge of all your finances back when you first moved in together.

“No, you’re not. You were strangled. Brain damage and death can occur even weeks or months after the fact. They need to make sure you’re okay.”

“How will I even pay for it? What if he finds me there?”

Jaw clenching, Spencer still managed to speak with an even voice. “Don’t worry about those things. Please, just trust me. I won’t let him hurt you again.”

“I do… I trust you,” you murmured, eyes brimming with unshed tears. You couldn’t remember feeling this safe in such a long time. It was really nice.

“Good,” he said, voice betraying just how much it meant to him to hear you say that. “Is there anyone else you want me to call? I can call one of the girls. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind letting you stay with them.”

“Can I not stay with you?” You did your best to hide your disappointment from him. It wouldn’t be fair of you to expect anything more of him. You guys were just acquaintances, friends if you wanted to push it. Of course, he wouldn’t want to have to put up with you. You didn’t have to tell him who did this to you, and he didn’t seem all that surprised either. He probably thought you were foolish for staying with your boyfriend. You wouldn’t be surprised if Spencer would blame you for staying with him after all the times he’s hurt you.

“No, of course you can… I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable or anything.”

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” You tilted your head. “You make me feel safe.”

His face did something strange then, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Can you stand?”

You nodded, not wanting to further agitate your voice by saying anything else. You had already spoken too much. Hopefully, the pain will go away soon.

Spencer helped you to your feet, steadying you with firm hands. He helped you down the stairs and into the car you knew he rarely used. He had told you about his dislike of driving, and you felt bad that you were making him drive you to the hospital because you weren’t strong enough to get away from your ex-boyfriend sooner.

The doctors gave you a clean bill of health, instructing you to rest your voice and instructing Spencer to keep an eye on your breathing for the next few days. On your way back, you picked up some bruise cream, a toothbrush and toothpaste, tea and honey, and takeaway.

By the time you both entered Spencer’s apartment, you were exhausted. You could tell that Spencer was, too. If the dark circles under his eyes weren’t indication enough, he kept yawning intermittently, making you yawn as well.

“I don’t know about you, but after we eat, I’m going to sleep for the next week,” Spencer said, placing his keys in the bowl.

“Gonna hurt,” you whispered, eyeing the food Spencer set on the table with weary eyes.

“I know, but you really need to eat. Besides, the soup shouldn’t bother your throat too much. Do you want me to put on the kettle?”

You nodded your head. As you watched him ready the water for tea, you felt something warm in your chest. You weren’t used to being taken care of so attentively. Most efforts made by your ex were half-assed at best. Spencer was always thoughtful. It was like he could anticipate your needs.

Taking your phone out of your pocket, you figured you should probably text the girls. They didn’t know what was going on with you, but you figured it would be better if they heard it from you and not someone else. Tapping Spencer on the shoulder, you held out your dead phone.

“My charger is in the bedroom by my nightstand. Feel free to move it if you need.”

You nodded your head, wishing there was a better way to express your gratitude. You watched the device turn on, the logo flashing on the screen before your lockscreen popped up. Cringing at the picture of you and your ex-boyfriend, you made a mental note to change it as soon as you got done texting the girls.

Your heart dropped to your stomach when you unlocked it to see hundreds of missed calls and angry texts from your ex. He was murderous. Each text was worse than the last. Sniffling back your cries, you swiped over to the group chat Emily invited you to. You stared at the blinking cursor for what felt like hours, the screen blurring as the tears built up in your eyes.

You jumped when Spencer called your name from behind you, clutching your phone to your chest. Rubbing the tears from your eyes, he came into focus, concern written all over his face. “Let me see.”

“‘ave to text the girls,” you weakly protested. Sniffling, you typed out a brief message, making sure to emphasise that you were fine and safe with Spencer now. Once you hit the send button, you handed your phone over to Reid.

He frowned when he pulled up your ex’s messages, brows furrowing deeper and deeper with every threatening word aimed at you. His hand was white-knuckled around your phone, shaking with uncontrolled rage.

Usually, the sight of a man this angry would scare you, your relationship with your ex having thoroughly damaged your acute stress response, but you knew that Spencer wasn’t angry with you. He was angry for you.

“How long has he been like this?” Spencer asked you.

You shrugged, “Like what? Explosive? Usually only when he drank.”

“Did he do that often?”

You nodded your head. “Alcoholic.”

He glared down at your phone some more, the fire behind it strong enough that you almost worried your phone would spontaneously combust.

“Do you think less of me?” you whispered, eyes trained on the soft rug you were standing on.

Out of your peripheral vision, you saw Spencer’s head shoot up. “How could I ever think less of you for this?”

“I should’ve left the first time-” cough- “he hit me.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. That… that asshole should have never hit you in the first place.”

“I made so many excuses,” you whimpered, curling in on yourself.

“Do you… Do you want a hug?” Spencer asked, voice tinged with rigid uncertainty. You nodded your head, and faster than you could blink, warmth engulfed you as Spencer gently pulled you to his chest, arms wrapping around you with care. He held you steady as you cried, soaking his shirt with salty tears and snot. Normally, you’d be too embarrassed to let anyone see you like this, but after the day you had, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

You both stood there for what felt like hours. It was only as your cries began to taper off that Spencer said, “The tea and food are probably cold now.”

Chuckling, you wiped away the remnants of tears as Spencer grabbed you some tissues.

After the tea and food had been reheated, you and Spencer sat down to eat. Spencer put on your favourite movie, surprising you that he cared enough to remember something as simple as that about you.

“Even if I didn’t have an eidetic memory, I’d remember what your favourite movie was,” Spencer had said after you shot him a confused look. You felt your cheeks warm, heart fluttering in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. You were grateful for the dark room. He didn’t mean anything by that; he was just being kind. There you were latching onto the first drop of kindness again, desperate for the care you’d been starved of for so long.

You didn’t remember watching the last bit of the movie, but by the time you were aware of your surroundings again, you were being tucked underneath covers that smelled of cinnamon, a gentle kiss placed on your forehead, and the words, “Goodnight, angel. I love you,” echoing in your brain.

[multiverse-of-multifandoms]

@juneofdoom 2025 Event Day 13: Electrocution Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes in Captain America: The Winter Soldier

[writinggremln]

June of doom 18 - "How long have you been like this?"

Stabilization | Left for dead | Flare

Stupid. That's what they were. Stupid. An idiot. A fool.

Villain should've known never to trust the likes of Other Villain. That slimy bastard. After everything Villain did for them, they dared leave them for dead, with Supervillain still roaming around.

Villain hissed as they tried to move for the upteenth time. "Fuck..." They muttered and put a hand over their wound. They had tried to keep the blood from flowing, they really had. But it was no use. Every shift, every move they made, it only made matters worse. Their vision was already getting blurry.

Villain cursed as they tried to get up again. Logically, they knew that they should stay put, to minimize the damage. Logically, they knew they were being irrational. But they were a villain, one who had run away from Supervillain's clutches. The same Supervillain that was probably looking for them right now.

Villain whimpered and more blood leaked out of their abdomen. "Shit." Villain saw black spots as they leaned their head back against the wall, tears in their eyes. Would they die here? Was this how they died? Alone, betrayed, cold, in hiding?

They felt something fall out of their pocket. Dazily, the wounded villain peeked and eye open; it was the flare Hero had given them.

Hero, their nemesis, who was too trusting for their own good. Villain laughed at the irony. Who were they to judge on trusting others?

The second they had realized Villain was teaming up with Other Villain, they had given them a worried look and a flare.

"Just in case." They insisted. "You know I can't directly help you. But if anything happens..."

Villain laughed and with an impish grin said that they were only keeping it just to get the hero to shut up and not look at them like that. Hero blinked before giving them a soft smile. "Please, don't hesitate to use it."

So Hero was also a fool then. If the villain used the flare now, Supervillain would probably invastigate and find them like this. However, Hero...

Would the hero be quick enough? Or, if Supervillain found them first, would Hero be able to save them? Would they even want to?

Only one way to find out. Villain thought bitterly as they grabbed the flare with shaky hands. Before they could regret it, they lit it up. And then everything went dark.

Hero was patrolling with Sidekick when the sky lit up. Both the heroes glanced towards the red dot in the sky. Only one of them knew its meaning.

"What the hell?" Sidekick mumbled. "That looks like ours. Is one of our teammates in trouble? No, that doesn't make any sense, there weren't any missions, so why-"

"That's not from our team." Hero's mouth felt dry and they licked their lips nervously. "Sidekick."

Sidekick flinched slightly at the look on Hero's face and their tone. "...yeah?"

"Listen to me carefully." The hero grabbed their sidekick's shoulders in a near-crushing grip. "Call Superhero and tell them that I'm taking care of it. Do NOT come after me and do NOT send for help."

"What the... Hero, what's going on?"

"You have to trust me." Hero clenched their teeth. "Please, trust me."

Sidekick started at them in shock. They had never seen Hero so stressed. Still, they gulped and nodded. "Okay..." they grabbed their communicator. "Okay, go. I'll tell them not to worry."

Hero nodded grimly. "Thank you."

"Be careful."

The hero smiled grimly. "Who do you think I am?" And they bolted.

Rooftop over rooftop, with the wind rushing in their ears, the hero ran and parkoured, their eyes following the red light, which was dimming as every second passed.

What seemed like an eternity later, Hero finaly found the villain... on the ground, with a pool of blood under them.

"Villain!" Hero nearly shrieked. "Villain!"

They fell to their knees beside their nemesis, not caring if they were covered in blood or not. The villain was unresponsive. "Villain, no, no..." Hero put a hand on the villain's cheek and tilted their head. "Villain, talk to me, please."

The wounded villain's eyes fluttered and the hero felt their heart soaring sith relief. "Oh, Villain. How long have you been like this?" How did you end up like this?

"Ggh.." Villain tried to move. Hero stopped them. "H-Hero..?"

"Yes, yes it's me." Hero's eyes widend at the sight of the hole on Villain's side. "God dammit, Villain, I told you not to trust them."

They heard the villain laugh. "Y-Yeah... you did. Great j-job, Hero." They winced and the hero put a gentle hand over their wound and an arm around the villain's shoulders, pressing their almost cold body against theirs.

"Let's get you somewhere safe, yeah?"

"Why don't you leave this to me, hero?" A voice behind them purred. The hero flinched and the villain went still in their arms. They didn't need to turn around to know whose it beloned to.

Hero licked their lips. "Supervillain." Their voice was somehow even.

"No, no, no, no, no..." Villain mumbled and Hero shifted so the villain's face was presses against their chest. "Hero please, please run..." they heard the villain whisper and they felt a pang in their chest at how broken their nemesis' voice sounded.

"I'm sure you have other problems you need to take care of." Supervillain said casually, staying right where they were. Hero turned their head to meet their gaze, their expression neutral. "Don't bother with the likes of them. So, go on." They made a dismissive gesture at Hero. "Shoo."

Hero's eye twitched.

"Hero, leave, leave me, please." Villain mumbled against their chest.

Hero's grip tightened. Never. They'd never leave them.

Supervillain tilted their head. "I don't see you leaving, little hero."

Hero gave them a thin smile. Well, it was obvious what they had to do.

The hero gently released their villain and stood up. Slowly, they turned around fully, their body shielding the villain's.

Supervillain grinned. "So is that's how it's going to be?"

Hero huffed out a small laugh in return. "I'm afraid so."

Hero tried to ignore the fact that they had told Sidekick to tell the others that they were taking care of it. That they didn't need anyone coming after them. That they were all alone.

...Shit.

The hero hadn't counted on Supervillain, of all people, being here.

Shit.

They blinked and Supervillain was standing right in dront of them, a knife in their hand.

Shit.