#THE VERY NOISY NIGHT

[rookthorne]

Safe Haven | ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱ

Pairing; Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count; 1.4k Warnings; hurt/comfort, fluff, Bucky's PTSD, pet names A/N; Probably the lightest entry that I've written for this event. Y’all need it considering what’s coming next. oops

WHUMPTOBER MASTERLIST

The yearly tradition of a blanket fort on the 4th of July gets an upgrade.

The day had been looming closer and closer, a constant reminder of just what awaited the two of you when it finally did arrive. 

Whilst a ‘joyous’ holiday for America - the fourth of July - it only leant itself to a night full of concern on your behalf, and fear that manifested in that god awful monster, PTSD, for Bucky. 

Which lead to this very moment - in the checkout line at your local grocery store, a basket on your arm full of ice cream, chocolate, and candy. All of Bucky’s favourite things jam packed like a game of tetris. You had learnt very early on that the hulking mass of muscle and metal that was your boyfriend, well, he had a sweet tooth. 

Actually, sweet tooth was an understatement. 

“Buck, baby, you’re already sweet enough,” you laughed as you watched him dig through the freezer for another tub of his favourite ice cream. He’d just finished his first tub only five minutes ago. 

Bucky looked up at you with wide eyes and a pout like he had been caught red handed with his hands in the cookie jar - which, technically speaking, was true. “But,” he started, still slowly rooting through the frozen shelves for his hidden treasure while maintaining an innocent air during the eye contact. “It never hurts, y’know, sugar. I can always be more sweet on you, doll.”

Alpine had piped up with her opinion at that very moment, a chain of small chirps heard over your laughter while her fluffy paws pattered over to her dad in the kitchen, her eyes watching the frozen fish with obvious intrigue. “That’s right, малютка,” Bucky said quietly, scratching her chin.

The constant beep of the scanner grew louder as you got closer and closer to the belt and you were snapped from your daydream of happier times by the chime of your phone. Bucky.

“Hey, babe,” you greeted, juggling the basket and tucking your phone into your shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Bucky sounded stressed, and it broke your heart. 

“I’m almost home, I promise,” you said quickly, desperate to soothe him over the phone. “Where’s Alpine?” 

Bucky huffed over the phone and muttered something you couldn’t make out. “Babe?” You urged.

“She’s sitting on the arm of the recliner and staring at me.”

“Good,” you assured, unable to keep the smile from your tone. “She’s my spy when I’m not home, you know that right?”

It was silent for a beat and then Bucky spoke so softly, so quietly, you almost couldn’t hear him. “Please, come home.”

Oh, hell. 

“I’ll be there soon, I promise, sweetheart. Hang in there for me.”

Click.

As though the universe knew of your urgency, the clerk was scanning through your groceries at an alarmingly fast pace. You paid, thanked them, and rushed out into the carpark. “I’m coming, Buck.” 

You had never taken the stairs into your apartment so fast as you did at that moment. The door opened when you reached the landing to reveal Bucky standing in the doorway, dishevelled and honest to god, scared. 

“Hey, baby,” you greeted, grateful when he offered his hand to take the bags of snacks. “I’m so sorry I took so long.”

Truth be told, you hadn’t been gone for long at all, but you knew how time dragged on for him when he was like this. Bucky only shook his head and offered a small smile, turning into the apartment so he could place the bags on the kitchen counter. 

Alpine greeted you in the entryway, her usual chipper attitude dulled to one of dutiful alertness - she was just as, if not more, protective of Bucky as you were. “Hey, little one,” you smiled, the soft fur of her neck between your fingers a balm to your nerves. “How’s our man doing?” A small meow in reply and you nodded your head solemnly. “I thought so.”

“I can hear you, you know.” Bucky called from the kitchen. 

“I know,” you said back. “Only good things, Buck, I promise.”

Bucky appeared in the entryway. “A lot of promisin’, doll.”

“I know,” you repeated firmly, watching his expression shift from guarded to sad in a blink of an eye. “And I’m gonna keep every single one of them.” Bucky didn’t flinch away when you reached for him and wrapped your arms tightly around his middle, and you smiled into his chest. 

“Thank you for the sweets,” Bucky mumbled into the crown of your head and you squeezed him tighter. 

“Have to make sure you stay sweet for me, baby,” you joked and pulled away to look up at him, a small smile working its way onto his perfectly kissable lips. “Now, c’mon, let’s get set up.”

The two of you got to work on the blanket fort and you threw in the pillows that Bucky insisted he did not need, but you very well knew he did need them, and placed the snack platters with two giant bowls for the ice cream on the small table. Alpine watched over every single move like a dutiful foreman and made it known when she disapproved of not being allowed to begin snacking early. 

“You have to wait, you cheeky girl,” you chastised, moving her away yet again from the platter of crackers and cheese. Alpine’s bottlebrush tail slunked out of sight and down the hallway with an air of disapproval that could be matched by no human. 

“I wonder where she gets her attitude from,” Bucky wondered aloud, that damn cheeky smirk plastered onto his smug face. You launched a pillow at his face in retaliation and he laughed when he caught it in his hand. “Easy there, or I’ll hog the ice cream.”

“Like hell you will,” you retorted while you adjusted the platters on the table, careful to make the overflowing bowls of candy not spill. Bucky chortled and left to grab more blankets from your bedroom. 

It was the perfect opportunity to get Bucky’s present ready. 

You dashed towards the bookshelf and pulled out the hidden box from behind your display of nicknacks, and hid it underneath the small table for when the time came. 

At last, the three of you were huddled in one of the best and cosiest blanket forts ever while a Disney movie played in the background. Bucky’s head was in your lap and you played with his hair, occasionally dragging your nails over his scalp to make him shiver. Alpine was curled up at Bucky’s stomach where his hand rested on her soft fur while she purred contentedly. 

“How are you feeling, babe?” You asked quietly during a musical number. Bucky shifted his shoulders slightly and shook his head slowly. His eyes had glazed over at hearing the loud whoops, cheers, and hollers throughout the complex and in the street below.

Steeled for this very moment, you rested a hand on his broad and muscled shoulder. “I need you to sit up for me, can you do that?” Bucky looked confused but did so, careful to not disturb Alpine where she lay. 

You leant forward and pulled the box free from its hiding place, and Bucky eyed it with the highest suspicion. “Easy, tiger,” you whispered and Bucky’s lip twitched up in a small smile. “This is for you.”

Bucky took the box slowly and placed it in his lap. The blue wrapping paper came away easily with his strength and he froze at what lay before him. “I don’t-”

“They’re headphones, baby,” you interrupted - you had seen the tell-tale sign of his anger born from confusion in his small head tilt. “They’ll help lessen the noise of the fireworks.” 

Bucky’s hand twitched as it grabbed a hold of one of the speakers and pulled it from the packaging. It was a navy blue pair with small cat ears poking up from the headband. Alpine sniffed at them and chirped loudly, pawing at the ears and Bucky smiled. 

The whooping got louder and you could hear the fizzle of small firecrackers in the street, and going by Bucky’s sudden stony expression, he did too. Alpine pawed at his knee insistently. “Put them on,” you urged, “it’ll help.”

Bucky did so and he froze at the feeling of pressure at his head, but you soothed him by pulling him back down into your lap. He went without resistance and settled into hesitant calm when Alpine moved to sit on his hip with a quiet meow. 

“That’s it,” you cooed, using one hand to play with his hair and the other to fiddle with the remote so the audio of the movie would play through his headphones during the worst of the fireworks. “Relax, baby.”

Bucky’s hand came up to rest on your knee and he squeezed it once as the windows lit up with blue, white, and red flashes.

“You’re safe,” you promised with a smile, resting your hand over his shoulder and feeling the cold metal of his prosthetic. 

малютка = baby

Graphics & Header made by yours truly.

Masterlist | Library | AO3 | Wattpad

[geminihurt]

Whumptober 2022 | Day 09

The very noisy night | Caught in a storm

"I am so wiped, man. I'm so out of it"

X-men Evolution 2x06 | Scott and Alex Summers

[one-piece-aus]

Whumptober Day 9

Sabo x Reader

You could say it is the sequel to this story but that's up to you.

TW: Survivor's guilt

"Get up lazy bones," Koala orders, shaking Sabo awake.

"Huh?" Sabo stirs but becomes less sleepy when Koala hits him on the head with his pillow. "Ow! I'm up, I'm up."

"It's your turn to watch," Koala states dropping the pillow next to him before going over to her sleeping bag.

"Right... right..." Sabo rubs his eyes, trying to remove the tiredness from his body.

The blond sits up and reaches for his top hat. He glances over at Koala who had already fallen asleep in no time. Sighing to himself, knowing he'll be alone with his thoughts, Sabo stares at his hat now in his grasp, specifically the two photos inside. His hand takes the pictures and brings them out so he could see them clearly in the fire's light.

One is of Luffy and Ace all grown up, surrounded by the elder brother's fire that protects them from the marines. The other is of [Y/n] who is cheerfully reading a book to a few rescued children. Sabo half smiles gazing over the photos, seeing the people he loves with enthusiasm, yet his heart is squeezed at the sight since he knows Ace and [Y/n] are gone. While an excuse could be made for why he wasn't able to save Ace, nothing could be said for the loss of [Y/n].

"Why... why did I let you die, [Y/n]?" Sabo asked as if you could hear his words, yet only silence responds. The blond brushes the rim of his hat as he thought back to the event. "I was there, I could've..." He paused, unsure what he could've done to stop your death. Sighing to himself, figuring he best not ponder on the matter any longer tonight, he placed the pictures back in his hat.

"Sabo..." 

"Hm?" Sabo glances over at Koala, thinking the feminine voice was her, but the redhead continued to snooze away. Sabo narrowed his eyes at the girl before placing his top hat on his head. "That's rather strange."

Sabo did his best to ignore his speculating thoughts of where the voice came from. He tried distracting himself by manipulating fire, but he had begun to grow uneasy, feeling eyes on his back. The area seemed to have dropped in temperature as he shiver when chills ran across his arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

"Sabo..."

"Who's there?" Sabo inquired standing up.

"Sabo..."

Cautiously, the fire human glanced around, trying to identify where the voice came from. He couldn't be imagining it if there was a source. Picking up his pipe, he extended his flames to his weapon and waved it around like a torch.

"Sabo..." the voice called once more, this time sounding a little distant away from him.

Sabo headed in the direction of the haunting voice, determined to know the source. He wished to know why it called to him. The voice continued to lead him by whispering his name, luring him to darker and colder areas. Sabo wasn't aware how far he had strayed from camp until he tripped and faceplanted into the soft ground.

"Wait..." Sabo lifted himself up and analyzed the ground. "Snow? When did-"

"Sabo..."

The blond looked up to see you standing in front of him. His eyes widen as a mix of emotions filled him when he laid eyes on the woman he never had the chance to fully love.

"[Y/n], what- what are you doing here? I thought- I thought you- you..." Sabo didn't want to say it.

"Sabo..." Your lifeless eyes bore into his and you place your hands on his shoulders. Arrows begin to stick out of your arms and the poisoned tips leak their substance down your flesh and onto Sabo's. Tears run down your eyes as ice freezes him in place. "Why did you not protect me?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sabo! Sabo! Snap out of it!" Koala cried, frantically shaking the poor blond awake.

"Koala? When did you- I- [Y/n]-"

"Calm down, Sabo," Koala tells him and makes him lie back down. "You were muttering in your sleep again, crying this time too."

"Oh..." Sabo pressed his fingers to his cheek and felt the damp trail that his tears left.

"Uh... anyway, it's your turn to watch-"

"Actually Koala, could you get Hack to do it instead?" Sabo requested, and pulled his cover back on. "I don't think I'm in the right state of mind to keep watch."

Sabo could hear the girl protest but had already zoned out of his surroundings as he laid eyes on you standing in the distance.

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whumptober #9: The Very Noisy Night

Option: Sleeping in Shifts

The worried team/crew sleep in shifts as they wait on word from the whumpee. Their mission went south a few days ago now, and the worst was assumed when they missed several check-ins in a row.

How long is it until the whumpee emerges with what's left of their crew, energy and (by the looks of things) blood?

[squigglywindy]

Whumptober Day Nine

There; it's over.

@shyrule @sploogs it's been a hot minute since we talked about this on discord, and fair warning, it has very little in common with my vision. But, here it is. The time I finally sort of got around to whumping Time.

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #9

xxx the very noisy night

“Storm’s really picking up,” Mulder remarks as the wind starts up again, howling through the trees while the rain beats down on the roof as if it’s trying to break in.

“Sure is.”

“It’ll be dark soon.”

“Very astute observation, Agent Mulder,” Scully responds, and he knows she’s trying to sound annoyed but she’s not trying very hard, and he can hear the affection in her voice.

They sit quietly for a minute on the wood floor, backs to the front of the couch, the storm raging outside. There’s a fire in the fireplace, and Mulder’s head leans comfortably against Scully’s shoulder. They share an old checkered blanket that Scully had found in the bedroom of the little cabin, and it would be nice under different circumstances.

“They’re not coming, are they?”

Scully sighs, and Mulder feels the weight of her face against his head. “No, I don’t think so. Not tonight, anyway.”

Mulder lets out a discontented hum. “Man. I knew I shouldn’t’ve left my road trip snacks in the car.”

“I think I have a breath mint, if you want I can check my pockets.”

“No!” Mulder says quickly, a well-timed jolt of pain in his side reminding him that he would rather they both stay put. “No, no, don’t get up. Not on my account.”

“You know I’m going to have to get up soon and put some more wood on the fire.”

“I know, I know that. But for now, can't we just--can't we just sit here?”

Scully’s head nods gently against his. “Sure, Mulder…How’re you feeling?”

“Just dandy.”

He adjusts his head, nuzzling it against her as he tries to get his neck into a comfortable position, finally settling for being slightly less uncomfortable than he was a second ago. And then he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. 

“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?” It’s more of a warning than a question, and she sounds worried. “How are you, really?”

A low rumble saves him from having to lie: the slow, loud roiling that comes when thunder first rolls in. They both look up.

“That sounded close.”

“Yep. Looks like we’re in for a loud night…The fire really could use some more wood. Alright, Mulder, sit up.”

Mulder groans. “Do I have to?”

“Yes. Come on!” Her voice strains slightly as she pushes Mulder off of her and into a sitting-up position. He grimaces at the movement, sucking in a sharp breath through clenched teeth, arm curling instinctively around his side.

 “Oooowwww. That smarts.”

Scully rises to a crouch, looking at Mulder with that expression she gets that’s a blend of concern and irritation at him for not seeming concerned enough.

“Mulder,” she says, and he thinks he’s in for a lecture. Instead she says (interrupted briefly by another flash of lightning and a crack of thunder), “I’ll take a look at you in a minute. Why don’t you get your shirt off?”

The idea of trying to take his shirt off makes him grimace. Instead, he watches silently as she crosses to the neatly stacked logs near the kitchen entrance and bundles a few of them into her arms before carrying them to the fireplace and setting them carefully on the flames. For a second, it seems maybe the wood has extinguished them, but then the blaze starts working on the fresh fuel and jumps upward with renewed vigor. Scully looks at her handiwork for a satisfied second before turning to Mulder, and her face falls into a pouty frown. 

“I thought I told you to take your shirt off.”

Mulder lifts one corner of his mouth. “I thought it’d be more fun if you do it”

She doesn’t look amused, and he doesn’t hold out long before he gives in, crumbling under her firm stare. 

“Fine. I didn’t wanna do it because it’s gonna hurt.” He’s fully aware of how whiny he sounds. Scully’s expression softens, in spite of it, and she sighs as she kneels down in front of him.

“I’ll lift it up, then, and you hold it.”

There’s a particularly loud rumble of thunder, near enough to shake the windows, and the lights flicker. The two agents make eye contact, but neither says anything. 

“Alright, here we go…” Scully pinches the edge of Mulder’s shirt and pulls it away from the wound, working with delicate concentration. “Hold on to that.”

Mulder does, grabbing onto his shirt with one hand and immediately letting out a yelp as Scully starts prodding at his side with significantly less care than she’d just been using.

“God, Scully, would it kill you to be gentle?” he asks, squirming. “That thing took a chunk out of me already, I--…What?”

Scully’s mouth is twisted to one side as chews the inside of her cheek and her eyebrows are pulled down and pinched in the middle, and as cute as it is he can tell by the expression that something is wrong. 

“Scully…”

“I’m going to ask you one more time, Mulder, and I need you to be honest with me please. How are you feeling?”

He looks at her for a long moment, trying to determine from her face how afraid he should be right now, and trying to hide how afraid he is already. He swallows, but it doesn’t do much to ease his suddenly dry throat. 

“Not great,” he finally says. “Not sure what it even is exactly, I’m just feeling a little…off. C’mon, Dana, what’s the matter?”

“The area around the wound is showing signs of infection.” She presses the back of a hand to his forehead before he can respond and makes a discontented noise. “Damn it. And a low-grade fever, I think.”

“Infection?” Mulder doesn’t try to mask his disbelief, though he probably couldn’t if he tried. “It’s been a--a few hours! Now, I’m no doctor but doesn’t that seem a little quick?”

“I mean, yes, but I--” She shrugs helplessly. “Malaise, fever, redness and swelling around the wound, skin warm to the touch--I don’t know what else it could be. It’s possible that thing in the woods that bit you had something in its saliva that’s causing this? I don’t know, but I’ve never seen an infection progress at such a rapid rate before.”

“And we’re stuck here.” Mulder lets out a long sigh, closing his eyes as the seriousness of the situation settles in. The rain seems to beat louder than it already was, the wind rising to accompany it. “All night.”

“Hey,” Scully says. “Mulder, look at me.”

He does.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m gonna do a thorough search, see if I can find some medical supplies. I’ll be right back.”

She doesn’t even have the chance to stand before the lights flicker again, and this time they go out. The light of the fire is enough to see her face by, though, and Mulder sees his frustration mirrored back at him. 

“Well, so much for that,” he says. 

“There are matches and a lantern on the mantle. Candles, too.” She makes quick work of lighting the lantern, but they decide to save the candles just in case they need them later. Before she sets off on her search, she helps Mulder from his spot on the floor and onto the slightly musty-smelling couch (with only minimal groaning from Mulder) and tucks the blanket around him. “I’ll only be a minute,” she says, pushing the hair back from his forehead. “Hang in there.”

Mulder watches the lantern light disappear as Scully goes into the bedroom, then shifts a little in an attempt to get comfortable--as comfortable as he can, anyway. The wound in his side is really starting to throb.

It’s going to be a long night. 

xxx to be continued...

[proudfreakmetarusonniku]

Day 9: The Very Noisy Night, with inspiration from the extra prompt Sleeping in Shifts.

An AU where Tommy and Dream are survivors in the apocalypse. Tommy, a thief, tries to raid mad scientist Dream's base and gets caught up in his experiments on the living dead as his unwilling protege. Warnings for child poverty, children in very dangerous situations, guns, kidnapping, abuse, and sleep deprivation.

AO3 link, if you prefer.

The world may have ended three years ago, but Tommy’s world ended last month.

See, when the dead stopped staying dead, he was twelve-and-a-half, huddled up in an abandoned building with a stolen loaf of bread and a knife being the only two things to his name. Society collapsing meant little to those outside its reach, and Tommy was quick enough to avoid the shambling masses, or at least escape their grasp if they got too close.

Zombie movies were wrong about all that biting shit, anyway. The dead couldn’t infect you because they were just corpses. Thing was, though, if you died, no matter what, you’d come back as one of them. Peacefully in your bed or throat torn out, didn’t make a difference. And if there was one thing Tommy was good at, it was bullshitting his way outta death.

So, he’d been having the time of his life, really. He’d gotten some friends for once- Tubbo, who could make generators and cool shit like that and even found them an old 3DS they could play Animal Crossing on, and Ranboo, who looked fucking ridiculous in a neat suit trawling through the ruins but had an eye for the coolest of scavenge- and they’d wandered place to place, bartering and exploring but mostly stealing supplies. After all, theft was Tommy’s speciality.

Through that, honestly, Tommy’s life began in stride as the world’s life waned. He had friends- family, really. He had enough that he didn’t starve for days between meals all that much anymore, especially after the plants started growing in the cracks. Tubbo had found a wilderness guide, so they knew what to pick, and the taste of wild berries was something he’d grown used to. And, inexplicably, he had respect.

That wasn’t something Tommy had ever intended to get, but apparently, the three of them helped more than they hurt. Bandits tended to have more than settlements, so it was absolutely just business, definitely. Tommy wasn’t some kind of Robin Hood; he was just a Tommy, no matter what people said. Tubbo and Ranboo might have liked the praise, but it grated on Tommy.

(After all, if he was so special, why did no one ever help him?)

And then, of course, he had to go and fuck it all up.

Sixteen-to-the-day and too cocky by half, Tommy had gotten it into his head to pull off the most daring raid of his life. For food and trinkets, not for anyone else’s gain. Never for anyone else’s gain. That’d be fucking stupid, and Tommy- well, he was an idiot, but not in that way.

Everyone knew that nothing good was going on in the old apartment building. No matter how many dead they’d cleared out- burn them and their ashes can’t do much of anything- there were always more around the apartments. There were always lights on in the building, but no one knew who lived there (not even Tubbo, who’d have had to have been the one to get a generator for them, unless they could also build their own). Anyone who tried to enter never left.

All in all, it seemed like a fun challenge.

What could be up there? Maybe impossible tech, or a secret weapon, or maybe even a very pretty girl? That would be the best reward, Tommy thought, because women were more pog than anything in the world. Except women weren’t a reward and that was a horrible thing to think, so he discarded the thought.

Turns out, the world didn’t work on fucking video game logic, and instead of some grand revelation, all he got was a shotgun to his face.

Tommy remembered the sheer paralysing agony of that one thought. I am going to die here. At the time, it felt like a tragic inevitably. Now, it felt like a naïve wish. At least if he was dead, he wouldn’t feel anything anymore. After all, while the dead might move, there’s no soul in them, nothing but wild animalistic rage. No hurt, no tears, no desperate drive to escape. No missing anyone.

No, no, God knows that Tommy used up the luck that’d let him just die quickly long ago. Instead, he’d looked into where the face of his attacker would be- shrouded by so many layers and a complicated gas mask that all he could make out were eyes that might have been green- and he definitely didn’t cry, and he didn’t beg for his mama because that’d be stupid considering she died when he was little, and Tommy wasn’t stupid.

With the only bit of softness the maniac had left in him- or perhaps, a cruelty more than Tommy could name- he’d lowered his weapon, and said that while Tommy had to repay him for his impudence, he could choose whether that was as another body to study, or a living assistant, because, to quote, Tommy was young enough he could be moulded into the perfect protege, and stupidly Tommy chose to live.

And that’s how Tommy Innit wound up curled up in the world's barest apartment back-to-back with a fucking psychotic mad scientist, ankle chained to the radiator so he wouldn’t try and run again and given the order to stay up and watch the doors until further notice in case the subjects break out. His arm was already smarting from the last time he’d tried to fuck around and be a “disobedient little shit”, as his captor had oh-so-lovingly described him as.

Tommy wasn’t scared, though. Au contraire, he was feeling fucking excellent. Au contraire meant the opposite, right? The fancy fella who had all the books taught him that. Wil-something. He was nice. Nothing like Dream, no matter how much he tried to flip to awkward kindness after threats and pain.

He didn’t like thinking of the bastard as Dream, though- taking on a new name after the end was a thing everyone did here, of course, something to do with growth, but Dream wasn’t one of them. Tommy refused to think of him like that. No, he was worse than the dead he loved to study so much. At least they didn’t draw shit out.

No, Tommy wasn’t scared. He wasn’t shaking, and he wasn’t at all feeling tears build up in his eyes. He wasn’t fighting the tempting urge to fall asleep, because Dream would make him fucking regret it, the agony of fighting against the lulling void overwhelmingly difficult. He could stay up on night watch all day every day no issues. None at all.

He could hear shifting. Banging on the doors, scratching, screaming, and no matter how much Dream had reinforced them, every sound made him terrified it was about to be broken down, and the test subjects would descend on the both of them and rip them to shreds. At least Dream had a gun. Tommy wasn’t even allowed a knife, after his last stunt, and he felt so much weaker now. At least in the past, maybe he could break a nose with a lucky punch. Now he could barely get off the floor in the morning.

The apartment was mostly converted into a lab, and Tommy could hear the machines through the thin floors, too, a cacophony of noise. Less a gentle hum and more a crashing wave, it still was drowned out by the struggling of the dead. Tommy couldn’t hear his own heartbeat over it though. He couldn’t hear Dream’s snoring behind him (how the fuck the man managed to sleep through the cacophony, Tommy didn’t know, especially since this hellhole of a “home” didn’t even have a fucking bed), and he definitely didn’t start hyperventilating from panic whenever he stirred slightly.

And the cacophony didn’t make his ears ring, didn’t make him wish that the building would just collapse. It didn’t. It didn’t make him cover his ears with his hands and hum the songs Tubbo and Ranboo had taught him under his breath. It didn’t make him wish more than anything he could see them again. Tommy was an idiot, but not a sentimental idiot.

No. Tommy was fine. He’d lived through the world ending, and he’d live through his own ending too.

(Whether he wanted to or not.)

[geminihurt]

Whumptober 2022 | Day 09

The very noisy night | Caught in a storm

"Is this how it ends?"

When the Devil calls your name 16 | Ha Rip - Jung Kyung Ho

[sheepaleepz-but-art]

Full moons suck

whumptober day 9 :)

[painful-pooch]

She Makes the Nights Better

Whumptober 2022 (@whumptober)

NO. 9 - THE VERY NOISY NIGHT

Sleeping in Shifts | Tossing and Turning | Caught in a Storm

This is 100% a homage to Brumaria - a ship of @actress4him 's Kamaria and my bb Bruno

Taglist: @straight-to-the-pain, @whumper-in-training, @ocean-blue-whump, @for-the-love-of-angst, @thethistlegirl, @whumperofworlds, @poc-whump, and @hopepetal

CW: PTSD, fear of thunderstorms, trembling, sleepless symptoms, and fluff (yeah I know, what kind of a monster puts fluff in Whumptober... Read it and WEEP, plebs)

Don't ever say I don't give fluff to the bbs or... I'll stab an OC lmfao

Boom. Crash. Crack.

Those are the never-ending sounds that keep Bruno on his back, gazing up at the sky with what he can only assume looks like the thousand-yard stare. He can’t find the courage to close his eyes and allow for the warm embrace of slumber take him to the field of dreams. He can’t because he knows that his field of dreams become a pit of nightmares and bloodshed.

That’s the price of being a warrior; a clash between one’s morals and the reality of the atrocities they partake in. The only way to stop them is through a glorious death by the hand of another warrior, ascending the stairway to another life where they will never have to hurt another. Until then, a warrior is tormented with the cries and screams of those they have vanquished in war, the look in their opponent’s eyes when life is escaping from their mortal shell, the taste of bitter victory tainting their own tastebuds.

Bruno clenches his jaw and rolls over to the side, his back to the woman he loves and adores with all his heart. He can’t let her know the constant pain he’s in, the reminders of his past mistakes eating away at his core like parasites. His breathing is becoming labored now, his body attempting to protect him, but the dam is broken now within his damaged mind.

Nothing can stop the flow of memories taking over, seeing each of his friends fall at the hands of his enemies. Seeing their hopes and dreams vanish as quickly as a candle being blown out at night, only the faint fragrance of the wick’s smoke left as a reminder of a time when the candle was lit. He feels so lost and alone now, rolling back over and curling up, his hands at his ears when the next session of roaring thunder making him almost whimper pathetically.

I can’t make it stop. No matter how much time passes. It won’t go away. I can’t do it. I can’t keep going with these nightmares.

“Bruno?”

He keeps his eyes shut, not wanting to face the possibility that the voice is simply a figment of his imagination; of a time when he had Miranda by his side.

A gentle hand at his cheek forces him to open his eyes, staring into the emerald, green pools of Kamaria. His heart skips a beat, and he can’t breathe, her beauty always catching him off guard. His lips are trembling, words unable to form in his mind as he wonders what she is thinking.

She is going to see me as a coward. A weak man… She’s always braver than I could ever be. How could I ever be with someone like her?

“I’m sorry… for waking you up. I’ll be fine,” he murmurs, hoping she would believe him and go back to sleep. Then again, he knows she is just as stubborn, if not more, than he is.

She gives him a look and presses her lips to his forehead, pulling back and stroking his hair back. “Don’t be sorry, Bruno. What can I do to help?” She asks, her hand right back to his cheek, stroking away his tears with her thumb.

“I- I don’t know anymore… I’m scared. What if I lose you? What if-”

A kiss to his lips cuts his words and he’s taken aback, not knowing what to do. His face feels so hot and warm, to which he is certain that he’s blushing like some schoolboy.  

She laughs softly and shakes her head. “You won’t lose me. Not if I can help it. Would holding me help you?”

Bruno flinches at the next crack of thunder and he immediately holds her to him, hiding his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in and a wave of calmness washes over him. “I think it would be rather helpful,” he mumbles into her skin, pressing his own kiss to her neck softly. He places his arms around her and for once in a long time, he feels safe.

“I think so too, Bruno,” Kamaria whispers back, adjusting to her new position and hugging him to her. “Will you be able to sleep?” She asks, but by the time she looks down at him, his eyes are already closed and breathing softly. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She presses another kiss to his head and she’s certain she can see a small smile on his face. “Goodnight, Bruno.”

“G’night, love…” Bruno barely yawns back, thankful to have her by his side. Life is always hard for him, but for just those few moments, he’s able to sleep. He loves her so much and that night, he dreams of love and laughter instead of gore and fighting.

[exquisiteagony]

blooddrunk au, 1144 words

[another-whump-sideblog]

Jane’s Pets Pt. 25: The Very Noisy Night

TWs in the tags

Previous

Masterlist

Next

Sleeping in shifts | Tossing and turning | Caught in a storm

Puppy refuses to sleep unless Kitty promises to stay awake. She managed to convey this to them through some charades and good questions on Kitty’s part.

They need to sleep in shifts because they don’t know when Bunny’s going to come back upstairs, and one of them needs to be awake when he does.

Puppy’s been allowed to sleep and eat more than normal. She tries to be grateful, but it’s hard when she knows that the kindness Master is giving her is only given because she doesn’t need the extra entertainment. She doesn’t need to see Puppy hungry and tired when there’s someone downstairs who’s starving and exhausted.

Spending so much time upstairs, Puppy has been able to count the days. She’s sure her counting isn’t perfect, but she has a basic idea of how long it’s been.

Bunny has been in the basement for months.

Puppy watches Kitty toss and turn. They need to get some sleep, but it’s hard while knowing what’s happening to Bunny downstairs.

Puppy knows that Kitty has been struggling, and not just with worry about Bunny. They’re having trouble staying in the present, the current situation reminding them too much of when Jane took their name. But they won’t talk about it.

If Puppy was allowed to speak today, she’d tell them that it’s okay that they’re afraid for themself and not just for Bunny. But she’s not, and Kitty has never appreciated physical comfort much, so she watches them toss and turn. She hums, hoping she can at least help them get to sleep.

~~

There has been a loud storm outside for quite a while. It makes the house shake. Rain pounds against the walls, wind roars, and thunder claps.

You can remember times when you were caught in storms like this when you didn’t live in a house. You can feel the rain on your skin despite knowing you’re sheltered.

You keep forgetting where you are. You try to remember what you’re hiding behind to protect yourself from the elements before remembering you’re in a house. Why are you in a house? Your head hurts.

It’s so noisy. If only you could sleep, it wouldn’t be so bad, but it’s too loud and too cold. You just need to ride out the storm. When it’s super bad like this, it ends faster, so you just have to hold on a bit longer.

You’re so hungry. You won’t be able to sleep when the storm is over, you’ll have to find something to eat.

You just need to survive the storm. It’s a good thing you found this spot, you can barely feel the rain at all. Or the wind.

That doesn’t seem right. Why can’t you feel the wind?

You open your eyes and find yourself where you’ve been this whole time. Your head hurts.

God, was it all a dream? You’ve been down here so long. Maybe Kit and Dollie were dreams too. Maybe this is all there’s ever been. Or maybe you’re actually caught in a storm, and the basement is a dream.

You try to focus on what you can feel. If you can just feel the rain, maybe you’ll wake up outside. And you do feel it, but it comes from all directions and the drops don’t stay on your skin after making contact.

Wait, you can feel some of the rain dripping down your face! It is real, it’s-

It’s just tears.

Compared to the rain, the concrete beneath you is solid and unyieliding. You can feel the burns and cuts on your skin vividly, much more vividly than the rain and wind.

You’re not caught in a storm. Not literally, at least.

A/N: Let me know if I should tag anything else!

Tag list: @eatyourdamnpears @ghostsinthecloset

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

On These Bloodcurdling Nights

Whumptober 2022 Day 9!

Summary: Written for Whumptober 2022 Day 9. Set in my Httyd Zombie AU. It’s Astrid’s turn to keep watch at night.

Warning: Zombies, Psychological horror

Rating: Teen and Up

Characters: Astrid, Hiccup, Toothless, Snotlout, Fishlegs, Ruffnut, Tuffnut

Pairing: /

Words: 728

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: THE VERY NOISY NIGHT - Sleeping in Shifts | Tossing and Turning

Whumpee: Astrid, Toothless, Hiccup, Snotlout, Fishlegs

Author’s Notes: No matter how many one-shots I've written for JaK and it's continuations so far, I still find more things to write about.

Like this idea right here! I've been thinking about this concept ever since I read the prompt for today.

Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Enjoy!

AO3

Astrid shoots awake in the middle of the night, she didn’t mean to fall asleep. She woke up because Toothless roused her, he’d grabbed hold of her vest and yanked, hard, because she was nodding forward and would’ve fallen right into the fire the teens had made to keep warm tonight. It’s on the tiled floor and they left the windows open.

A little uncomfortable with this realization, she takes her chair and moves it back a little. She was sitting so close because she wanted the heat, she didn't think she would actually nod off.

Seated once more and Toothless lying back down, Astrid takes a look around the room at everyone as they lie on their sleeping bags. She’s supposed to keep watch, so that’s what she should do. She can tell who’s asleep and who’s still trying to sleep.

The twins, for example, are out like a light and snoring. They had no problem dozing right off. Astrid thinks everything that’s happened in the past couple of months just seems to… slide right off them. Like water off a duck’s back, as the saying goes.

She's not angry at them for it. At least there's someone getting some sleep.

Snotlout is in the process of dozing off, though there’s that infamous sleep start keeping him from his sleep. She’s been watching him toss and turn. Every time it happens, he tries the other side. Again. He’ll probably give up eventually and stay up with her. She can hear him grumble and mumble under his breath, growing more and more frustrated.

Fishlegs doesn’t even try. Too frightened, he lies awake on his back, looking out the window at the clear night sky. He tries to count the stars, but not even in an attempt to sleep, but just to try and calm down. He's quiet and lies so still he hardly dares to breathe.

And then there’s Hiccup, who’s been out cold for hours already and hasn’t moved a finger with Toothless lying by his head, also without sleep. The only reason why they still know he’s alive is that they can see him breathing. And because his dragon isn’t freaking out. But who can blame him? He lost his leg recently, it’s only natural that he would sleep this much once it finally finds him. He lies the softest as they found him blankets for under the sleeping bag and two pillows. One for his head, the other for his leg. It's to help him rest.

It’s a good thing that he can sleep sometimes. For some reason, the nights aren’t quiet here.

The undead, they’re… They’re screaming.

None of them know why. The only one who would want to investigate can’t and Astrid is much more concerned with keeping their group away from the zombie horde. That doesn’t stop the night from being filled with shouting, crying, screaming. Every noise the human throat is capable of; they’re making it and they have no clue why. They sent shivers down her spine, they make Fishlegs whimper. They had no idea some of these noises were even possible before they settled here.

But alas, they can't ask Hiccup to move, not in his state.

This city that they're in is the most crowded they've been in since the pandemic ruined the world.

It’s honestly a surprise that anyone’s getting sleep tonight. She knows that they’re keeping Snotlout up and that this is why Fishlegs has such an easy time not giving in to his exhaustion. As for why Astrid could nod off, she is just so fatigued and her body doesn’t usually do well with a lack of sleep.

She rubs in her eyes. It’s unbecoming of her, but she actually wants to whine and then kick something nearby. That’s how frustrated and sad and angry she is at… Well, at everything! She wants to act like an overstimulated toddler desperate for a nap.

Right now, she hates those noises from the undead the most. She can’t even see them out there, something knocked out the power to all the streetlights in their area. So these are bloodcurdling screams coming from the darkness outside and they come every night without fail.

Astrid covers her ears and presses her forehead against her knees, but she can still hear them. She can always hear them. Every. Single. Night.

[honmyoseagull]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Dark Wolverine (Comics), Dark Reign (comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Daken Akihiro/Lester | Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter, Daken/Bullseye, Bullsnikt Characters: Daken Akihiro, Lester | Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter, Norman Osborn (mentioned), Namor the Sub-Mariner (mentioned) Additional Tags: Whumptober, Whumptober 2022, no. 9 - Freeform, The Very Noisy Night, Sleeping in Shifts, Tossing and turning, Caught in a Storm, Ghost Ship undertone, Disembowelment, Harm to Marine Creature, kraken - Freeform, Off-screen massacre, Cold, Drowning, Unresolved Traumas, Dysfunctional Relationships Summary:

One stormy night allows for tiny lapses in behavior. Daken might allow himself to care. Bullseye might allow himself to indulge. But it never gets easy with people so adept at lying to themselves or inept at understanding their own feelings…

@whumptober-archive

[10ths-writing-corner]

Whumptober #9- The very noisy night

The bright, digital red clock marked 2:30 am. The dapper jolts awake when a lightning strikes and is followed by thunderous thunder. His heart raced a million miles, especially when his eyes weren’t completely adjusted to the dark. He breathes in and out to calm himself, and soon feels on the other side of the bed. To his surprise it laid empty, he would’ve expected for someone to be there sleeping next to him. He sighs quietly before turning to the edge of the bed, letting his legs dangle towards the floor.

The wooden floor was cold, as soon as it made contact with his feet it sent a chill through his whole body. If it weren’t for the thunderstorm, the hallway wouldn’t look as terrifying as it did just now, but the fact that the kitchen light was on brought relief to Jameson. As he suspected, Henrik sat at the kitchen island, a mug of recently brewed coffee in hands and next to him a stack of papers, and his phone. His long, brown hair was completely down, tho a bit messy and fluffed up. Though, before Jameson could come any closer, he made sure to knock on the wall to make himself present, he didn’t want to startle the doctor after all. Well, startle him the least he could. Jameson couldn’t really help walking around so quietly, even if he wanted to.

Still with the light knock, Henrik jumps on his chair, icy blues searching his surroundings but soon land on Jameson, and relief is evident on his face.

“Jamie, my sweet.” He spoke in a hushed tone, maybe because it was the middle of the night, or maybe to hide the ever growing worry in his voice. “Did the thunder wake you?”

Jameson nods while he walks towards where Henrik was, “{Are you okay, dear? Why didn’t you wake me?}”

“You looked so peaceful, I could not simply disturb you.” Henrik chuckled tiredly, though a sigh escapes his lips when Jameson takes a seat next to him and lays his head on top of his shoulder. “I was doing the tossing and turning, I feared if I stayed in bed any longer I would have awaken you myself.”

“{Is there something troubling you?}” Jameson signed in concern, though he holds on to Henrik’s arm and hides his face when another thunder shakes the house. Henrik can only smile warmly before wrapping both his arms around his beloved.

“I am sure it is nothing.” Though as soon as he said that icy blue eyes flickered to his phone, disappointment quickly filling his eyes when no notifications made his phone light up. And Jameson didn’t miss that.

“{You’re worried about Jackie.}” Jameson stated before placing his hand on top of the doctor’s in a comforting manner. There’s silence between them that one could hear the pitter patter of the rain hitting the windows clearly as day.

“It is too obvious, huh?” Henrik remarks with a quick smile, but soon that smile soon turns into a frown with concern. “He is reckless, all the time. Especially when it comes to flying. I sent him the text, writing him that he should spend the night here but he has not answered back.”

Jameson bites his lip, he knew Henrik was right about Jackie and now it made more sense why he was up rather than sleeping and getting ready for his next shift. He then gets an idea, and he quickly taps Henrik’s hand. Once Jameson gets the doctor’s attention, he starts signing. “{How about we take sleeping shifts? After all, you still have work in a few hours. I will keep an eye in case he comes in and needs help. Would that ease your worries, my dear?}”

There is a pause while Henrik thinks, he knew Jameson was right and he definitely needed the sleep hours. Especially if the storm got worse, there was no doubt he would be called in earlier if needed. He sighs in sort of defeat, but he did place a gentle kiss on Jameson’s forehead. “You are too kind, my love. Alright, alright. Only for a few hours. If my phone rings, you wake me up, yes?”

Jameson nodded with affirmation before gesturing the doctor to come and lay down on the couch with him. Of course, Henrik ended up falling asleep within minutes of laying his head on his lap, not that Jameson minded. At least he would have some sort of company while patrolling for the hero’s arrival. They can only hope he is staying safe out there.

Tag list

~~~~~~~~

@dmnfox @number1120 @chey-doodles @randowaffle @caesardoe @itsonlyparker @definitely-asexual-volcano @potatoarenice @lilsprout-exe @lildevyl @gotta-get-that-pma @hellspctre @justaninnocentstudent @anon-jameson @droid-dreamerr @glitchyartist @antis-gauge @ghostofodellion @miishae @ongaku-ato-kakikomi @innocent-angel3 @mysterio-is-the-truth @synder-sync @n-anon @immabethehero @fankayart @k--sm

[ichoosechoasandbeingqueer]

Thunderstorms and Kisses

This is Day 9 of Fili whumptober!

Warnings: thunderstorms, ptsd

Word count: 2060

The thunderstorm outside sounds far to similar to the battle for Fili. Narni helps him through it.

Please refer to the warnings of this story.  If you go past this point you are consenting to reading this content. 

The thunderstorm outside roared in rage, the sounds echoing through the deep caverns and halls of the lonely mountain. Those who lived closest to the walls of the mountain watched the strikes of lighting with fascination and fear, in awe of the way nature could be so terrible and powerful at the same time. Those in the mines could feel the tingles of electricity through the walls of stone as the bolts hit their mark on the earth, those skilled enough being able to see through the walls and caves of their home without their eyes. Others, such as Narni, were simply heading home to wait out the destructive anger that the world was putting them through.  

It was strange to see the usually bustling mountain so empty, and as the darrowdam made her way along her home’s long and deserted halls she felt the longing in her heart. Such as storm always brought her a sense of awe, the crashing and rumbling reminding her of the forge and its organized chaos, its lightning’s flashes reflecting the wonder that sparks in her eyes as she watches the embers burn and the metal bend and shape against the anvil. Storms where wild and free, just as her soul was.

Her feet were light against the marble halls and the small basket she carried was heavy and full of ingredients she would make into treats after dinner. Dinner that Fili was at home preparing for them both. A smile tugged on Narni’s lips at the though. Her prince was talented in many ways, she had known that from the beginning of their courting, but his talent of cooking had surprised her in the best way. While she preferred to bake, her prince put as much heart onto his cooking as he did his forging, and that knowledge alone let there be no comparison to any other’s cooking (except maybe Bombur, not that she would ever admit it to her wonderful lover).

She let the smile turn into a grin as her door came into sight, simply imaging all the wonderful aromas that would greet her as she walked inside. Perhaps Fili would be waiting for her with a spoon in his hand, rushing to her to taste what his hands had so carefully created for her, or perhaps he would be so focused, so entranced at what he was doing he wouldn’t even hear her come in? Would he let her dance around him as she baked? Would he chase her out of the kitchen with a grin, promising her all the time and help in the world after he was done, sealing the deal with a tender kiss? Or would they get lost in each other, forgetting all about dinner as the thunder clouds rolled overhead?

Selfish as it was, she didn’t care as long as he was there. His duties as heir left little time to spend freely with each other and on nights such as these, night where they could be alone together, tucked up in one another’s embrace, she was reminded just how important their bond had become. How strong their love had become.

Turning the handle with full hands was a dilemma but she got it done without dropping anything, having to race to the kitchen table before the eggs rolled away from her. She blinked once, twice at the darkness of the room and the lack of warmth coming from the stove.

“Fili?” she called out to the empty room.

Leaving everything where it was on the bench, she began to wander their quarters. She went straight to their bedroom, checking there first in case he had simply fallen asleep after a long day of meetings and drama, but when she stuck her head into the room and its was just as empty, dark and cold as the kitchen. A twinge of fear stirred in her stomach as she checked the bathroom and balcony with the same results. Had something happened that he would be called upon so late? Had the storm broken through the barricades at the gates?

She called his name again and again, her voice growing in worry each time his name fell from her lips. The last room was the office, and she almost tripped over her skirts in haste to get there, but again she was met with darkness and cold. She had turned to leave, a plan to hunt down her beloved’s brother to see if he was with him when a sniffle caught her ears.

She scanned the room again catching a hint of movement under Fili’s desk. It was small and at first, she had thought it a mouse seeking shelter from the storm, but as she crept closer, the mouse turned out the be the very dwarf she was looking for.

Tucked as far as he could get himself, Fili hid under his desk, his knees propped under his jaw and his hands over his mouth. Red rimmed eyes looked up at her with a look of desperation and fear as he sniffled again.

“Fili?” she asked gently, kneeling down to see him better. His name brought no reaction, but as a louder crash of lightning struck outside and the walls of the mountain groaned in protest of the abuse, Fili whimpered and tucked his face deeper into his hands.

She was by his side in an instant, her hand rubbing his soothingly. He flinched away at first, his head flicking up like he had not realized she was there before recognition settled in his eyes and he gasped onto her with a grip like iron. Narni opened her arms for him and he tucked his head into her chest.

“I’s too loud,” he mumbled miserably, his entire body shaking, “too loud,”

“Oh my sweet, sweet jewel. Do you mean the storm?”

He nodded and sniffled again, “Too loud. I don’t wanna fight again,”

“Fight? Why would you- oh,” she cut herself off, realizing just why her prince was so distraught. The sound outside, the one that warmed her and made her think of her safe space in the forge reminded him of battle, the clashing of metal not one of creation, but of destructing, pain and death.

“Oh, Fee, it is just a storm. There’s no fighting, I promise. You are safe my one. If you just come out-”

Her words meant to heal and calm were drowned out but another gust of howling wind, her brave lion curling up on himself again and holding his hands over his ears.

She hated to leave him here like this, but as quickly as her feet would allow it, she raced out of the room and around their home, grabbing an armful of things from each room and dumping it at her beloved’s feet. She was like a dam possessed as she raced to do another round, rummaging through her basket still sitting on the bench waiting for her.

Fili peaked his head out from behind his hands as she cursed, watching her rub the spot on the top of her head that she had smacked against the wooden desk in her crazed haste. He sent her a worried look with wide eyes and a quivering lip, and as she caught it, she sent him a grin and kicked off her boots. Soon enough she was crawling back to his side, dragging pillows and blankets and warm fluffy coats with her. Again, Narni worked in a hurry, tucking the soft things around them and barricading themselves under the desk.

Affectionately and leisurely now, as not to scare her prince more than he already was now she was by his side, she wrapped him their softest and thickest fur. It was a gift he had presented her after days of hunting, skinning and preserving in an attempt to win her heart in the early days of there courting, the fool not realizing that he already held it in his hands. She chuckled at the memory as she wrapped it around his shoulders and over his head and ears. Their horrible looking stuffed cat plushy made it into his arms, Narni’s favorite wool jumper went between him and the cold stone wall and the blanket from their bed made it around both of them. The rest of the cushions went against the legs of the table and at its mouth, tucking them both in and away from the world outside.  

Fili’s sapphire eyes gazed across her work in wonder, hugging the furs closer and slowly coming out of his ball. She felt her heart melt for him and she leaned back and opened her arms once more, her prince wasting no time to scamper into them.

She pulled him close to her, encouraging him into her lap as he dug his nose into the crook of her neck, hiding himself away in her hair. For a while they sat there like that, her hands rubbing circles into the skin of his thighs and back, listening to him whimper and cry, the storm only getting louder as it passed over head. His body shivered and tensed when the lightning hit somewhere close, but slowly and surely his grip began to loosen and he lifted his head from her neck.

Narni peppered kisses against the crown of his head, spreading down to his brows and further to his nose as he slowly came out of his safety embrace. Her hand trailed up his side to wipe away the tears that fell onto his cheeks, kissing away the streaks that stained his face and running her fingers through his beard. He leaned his head back to reach her lips, but she instead kissed his chin, trailing down his jaw and neck.

He moved again trying to line his lips with hers, not missing the way she smiled as she missed again, and he give a small whine.

“So impatient my dear prince,” she tutted, kissing the side of his mouth and drawing another whine from the darrow. He looked up at her with wide begging eyes and she caved, pulling him closer and letting him hurriedly place his lips on hers.

Narni let her fingers wonder into his hair, pulling on his braids as he kissed her, their bodies fitting against each other like two pieces of a puzzle. He paused, pulling back with a dazed look making her giggle. She pecked his lips once more and ushered him to rest his head again so she could take out his braids. Complying wholeheartedly, he relaxed against her again, his eyes drooping as she worked her fingers through his golden locks.

“Thank you,” he murmured, running his hands along her sides, “for staying with me,”

She smiled, tucking his beads into the pocket of a nearby jacket so not to lose the precious heirlooms, “Always, my treasure. How are you feeling?”

“Better, though the noise still hurts,”

“I already have plans to have earmuffs created. You know the ones that the miners use when using blast powder? Something like that but softer… would that help?”

The blond gave a nod, “I think so. I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would be so bad. I didn’t even make dinner, the kitchens a mess and I-”

“Hush now none of that,” the dam scolded lightly, “You are allowed to hurt Fili. Besides if your hungry I have some chocolate chips? I was going to make cookies but this seemed a more appropriate call for chocolate,”

The prince chuckled, the rumble vibrating from his chest, “You always know how to please a darrow, but maybe we could just stay like this for a bit longer?”

“Of course jewel. Lay with me?”

Fili gave a nod and she laid, wrapping them both in their blankets again as he snuggled into her side and laid his head on her chest. He hummed at the feeling of her gently raking through his loose hair and again his eyes began to close.

Quiet humming sounded through their little fort of safety, pulling his thoughts away from the rumble outside and onto the smooth sound of Narni’s voice. She hummed an old Iron Hills lullaby from her childhood, smiling down at the prince that slept soundly in her arms, his face smoothing out and finally finding peace.

“Good night my brave lion,”

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ 

See full 31 day whumptober 2022 Master List here