#caught in a storm

[random-fandom-whump]

Whumptober Day 18: Let's Break the Ice ↳ 9-1-1 Lone Star S03E02

[ladtheove]

When Ra's Al Ghul tries to kill young Damian, Talia entrusts him to Jason to take away and protect

[breezy-cheezy]

Whumptober No. 9 THE VERY NOISY NIGHT 

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

I was lamenting how behind I’m getting on whumptober but!! Then I remembered, day 9 is one I actually did early! Headcanon Diluc deals terribly with storms (dad died, almost killed his brother, all when storming) and perhaps sometimes Venti pays a visit to help :’’) 

The song is Lullaby for a Stormy Night by Vienna Teng! It’s such a sweet one, aaaaa

Please don’t tag with ships! All relationships portrayed here are strictly platonic!

[omgiamwish]

Whumptober 2022 Day 9 - Caught in a Storm

Fic on Ao3 and below the cut!

A/N: this takes place 2 or 3 years before the start of the show

In retrospect, Donnie can admit that they probably should have gone home the moment the first rain drop splattered on Mikey’s beak. The forecast had called for thunderstorms, after all. And Donnie himself had suggested erring on the side of caution and staying inside, only agreeing to go out when Leo and Raph called him chicken.

But alas, they had all become caught up in their glorious game of rooftop tag, demonstrating amazing feats of endurance and agility, and- most importantly- teaming up against Leo. What was a little rain in the face of that?

The flash of lightning lighting up the city didn’t snap them out of their focus on the game, but the subsequent earsplitting crash of thunder certainly did.

Raph tripped and yelped. Mikey shrieked, flinging himself onto Leo. Whether because of Mikey’s weight or his own surprise, Leo slipped and fell on his shell.

Considering Donnie was the only one who didn’t end up on the ground, he feels justified in saying he had the most dignified reaction, regardless of whatever sound may or may not have come out of his mouth.

“Well, gentlemen,” he addressed the dum-dums who thought going outside in late fall with a thunderstorm on the horizon was a good idea, “shall we go inside now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Raph agreed, pushing himself up. “Let’s go home.”

The rain picked up as they raced back across the rooftops, soon turning into a downpour. They’d all been rather wet already when they stopped their game, but they’d all been soaked long before they reached the manhole closest to their home.

Donnie wasn’t particularly fond of the wet fabric of his mask and hoodie sticking to his face and arms, and he was looking forward to stripping everything off and cocooning himself in some nice, dry blankets on his bed. Maybe rigging up a heat lamp if he had the energy for it.

Leo went to jump down into the alleyway when they finally got to the right manhole, but Raph held him back with a hand on his shoulder.

“Uh, guys? I don’t think we should go down there.”

“Wait, what? Why?” Leo questioned, clearly annoyed. “C’mon Raph, it’s freezing out here. Let’s go already.”

“Freezing temperatures would actually produce snow, not rain, and the forecast said-”

“Not now, Donnie!”

Donnie scowled and adjusted his hood. Another loud boom of thunder had Mikey latching onto his side with a squeak.

“We can’t go in the sewers when it’s rainin’ this hard,” Raph explained.

“Yeah? Why not?” Leo challenged.

“Cuz Pops said it’s dangerous.”

“And you’re only saying this now? We came all this way when we could have been looking for shelter instead?”

“Raph didn’t remember ’til now! And you can’t blame Raph for not rememberin’ when you didn’t remember at all. Pops told all of us!”

Donnie had begun half-consciously patting Mikey’s hand, but he realized at that point that it was colder than it should be and that Mikey might be shivering from more than just fear. While Leo and Raph continued arguing, Donnie unzipped his hoodie and guided Mikey under it as much as he could. It wasn’t much protection from the cold, and any protection from the rain was probably moot when they were both already soaked, but it had to be better than nothing.

“Because it’s dangerous, and because I said so!” Raph yelled as more lightning flashed, thunder cracking a moment later. “Now unless you got any useful ideas-”

“Hey, just a thought,” Donnie piped up. “But how about getting under shelter? Literally any shelter. A parking garage, an awning… I will settle for a tree at this point. Just saying.”

Anyway, that’s how they ended up at Mikey’s second-favorite playground- the one with the tube slide and larger fort (apparently the first-favorite has superior swings, taller monkey bars, and cuter rocking animals). Halfway there, Mikey gave up on walking and demanded Raph carry him. Donnie- also tired of walking- wished he could be carried too, but he didn’t want to seem like a little kid. Maybe he should look into some upgrades for his battle shell…

As soon as they got to the park, Leo scrambled up into the tube slide, presumably to sulk. Raph sighed, dragging a hand over his face.

“How long is it s’posed to rain again?”

Donnie checked his phone. “Maybe another hour? The water levels in the sewers might not go down for awhile, though.”

Raph tapped his fingers against Mikey’s hoodie-covered shell. “Do you think Dad will be worried about us?”

“Do you think he’ll even notice we’re gone?” Donnie countered tiredly.

Raph shifted uncomfortably. After a few seconds, he looked over to the wooden fort. “I guess I’ll go sit under there. I wouldn’t really fit anywhere else.”

Donnie looked at the wet wood chips and dirt and shuddered at the thought of having to sit there for even a moment, let alone hours. “You know what, bud? You have fun- I’m gonna go sit in the rocket.”

He turned to do exactly that, but Raph’s hand caught his wrist. “Wait.” He worried his lip, looked conflicted. “It’s drier in there, right?”

“It should be,” Donnie confirmed. “Definitely less windy.”

Raph nodded to himself. “Right. You should take Mikey with you then. I think he’s gettin’ a fever.”

Raph transferred Mikey to Donnie’s arms. Donnie looked down at his sleeping brother then up at Raph. “You’ll be okay?”

Raph smiled reassuringly. “Yeah. I know where you all are.”

Donnie nodded. That was that, then.

‘The rocket’ was part of the fort and was probably meant to be a tower or something. However- in Donnie’s expert opinion- whoever built it shouldn’t have given it a pointed roof and a spinable steering wheel at the top of the stairs if they didn’t want kids who grew up on Jupiter Jim movies to call it a rocket.

Donnie ducked his head and shuffled through the small bit of tunnel and up the three steps that led to the bottom entrance of the rocket. He swept some stray wood chips away with his foot and set Mikey down, careful not to jostle him.

He felt Mikey’s forehead, but he couldn’t tell if Raph was right and Mikey had a fever, or if his own hands were just cold. Taking off his own mask to feel his forehead didn’t bring any more clarity on the subject.

Donnie sighed. There wasn’t much he could do about it anyway. They weren’t at home; they didn’t have heating or blankets or hot soup. Judging by the persistent drum of rain on their wooden shelter, they wouldn’t be getting any of that any time soon.

“Donnie? I’m cold. And hungry.”

Donnie looked over and met his little brother’s eyes for a long moment before he could find anything to say. “Yeah. Yeah, me too, Michael.” Ugh, this sucked. He just wanted to get out of his stupid wet clothes and-

Actually, that was a good idea. Wet clothes plus cold equals bad.

“Hey, Mikey. Take off your hoodie,” Donnie ordered, already shrugging his own off. “And, uh, any other wet clothes I guess. I’ll go wring them out.”

Mikey blinked in confusion but didn’t question it. He fumbled off his hoodie, kneepads, and mask and handed them over.

Donnie took their pile of clothes into the wooden tunnel and set about wringing them as dry as possible. It was somewhat relaxing, at least- getting to squeeze something and feel the water well up between his fingers, hearing it splatter on the ground.

He regathered the now-damp-instead-of-sopping clothes and stood up, careful to stay hunched. Unfortunately, his care was ruined by a blast of thunder loud enough to shake the walls around him.

Even in a place built for people older than ten, Donnie probably would have jumped high enough to hit his head on the ceiling. As it was, he hit his head hard enough that he would likely have a bump for at least a day or two. Dad says they heal fast, and that seemed to be true compared to April, but ow! Pizza Supreme, that hurt!

“Donnnnieeee!” Mikey wailed and Donnie barely refrained from cursing (he would not be the one to teach Mikey those words- he had twenty bucks riding on it).

“Yeah, I’m coming, Mikey,” he called back. He touched his head gently, checking for blood. His hand looked clean under the light of his phone, so he put it away and hurried back.

As he entered the rocket, Mikey tackled him with another wail.

“Uncomfortable! With! Hugging!” Donnie gritted out. But as Mikey continued to cling, Donnie resigned himself to it. “I suppose sharing body heat is the recommended course of action for this situation.”

“Good. Because I’m not letting go,” Mikey sniffled.

Donnie sighed and shuffled over to a spot where he could sit down and stretch out his legs. He really couldn’t wait to go home.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Whumptober Day 9

No. 9 THE VERY NOISY NIGHT

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

Warning: car crash, leg injury, ptsd hinted at, storms

Word count: 887

The case was over and you were driving back, there was heavy rain and strong wind that was supposed to last a few days minimum. And with the hotel you were staying at (and every other hotel) fully booked, it meant that you’d have to drive back. It wasn’t too long a drive, only seven hours. You were each taking it in turns to drive, with Aaron currently driving, you behind the passenger seat. You were lucky enough that you have been supplied with an eight seater - you could all fit in with your go-bags with plenty of room. It was your turn to drive next. You weren’t exactly looking forward to it, your anxiety had been playing up all day and you couldn’t quite pin down the reason.

Sensing eyes on you, you look up, catching your boss’ eyes flicking to you in concern every thirty seconds. “You should get some sleep,” He said, you gave a small shrug.

“I’m not tired.”

“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting off.”

“I don’t know,” You replied, “I just feel like something is wrong, that’s all,”

Aaron gave a nod, “I’m sure it’s nothing,”

“I hope so,” You laugh, “But, yeah, no rest for the wicked it would seem,” Aaron huffed a laugh. The case was in South Carolina, an unsub tryinging to ‘clean; the streets of the homeless. The man was rather easy to find and apprehend and soon enough, you were on your way back. You were only three hours into the drive, all of you running on nearly twenty four hours of no sleep. Derek had gone first, driving for an hour, then Spencer (wanting to get it over with), and now Hotch, then you, and then Emily and the chain would continue until you were home. 

“You could just be tired,” Hotch suggested.

“Yeah, probably,”

Hotch gave a small smile as you yawned, “Get some sleep, I’ll wake you up when it’s your turn,” You nodded, bunching Morgan’s hoodie (that you may or may not have stolen from his go bag) into a ball, placing it on the window and resting your head against it. You were fairly sure you weren’t going to get any sleep, but soon enough, the pitter-patter of the rain against the car drew you into a peaceful sleep.

Aaron softly calling your name drew you out of your sleep, he gave you a small smile, “Your turn,”

You nodded, “You want a makeshift pillow?” When Hotch shook his head, you threw the hoodie on over your head. You jogged around the car, slipping into the driver’s seat. Waiting until Aaron was buckled in, you started the car. 

Twenty minutes in, you felt tired. And sick. Your eyes felt heavy. Seeing a sign for a rest area with a fuel station a mile or two ahead you breath a sigh of relief. You were going to stop and get a coffee. A coffee sounded great right about now. Blinking felt harder, upon this realisation you opened the window, welcoming the cold bite of the air. It did wonders for waking you up. 

The pit stop cam fast, which you were happy about, and you quickly grabbed a coffee, waking Hotch before you did. You made it back in record time with a large cup of coffee in hand, you slipped it into the built in cup holder. After buckling yourself in, you start the engine, resuming your journing (continuing the timer).

There were hardly any cars on the road, which you were happy about. Although, your anxiety started to worsen. You sighed, perhaps the caffeine was causing your anxiety to heighten. You turn the radio on, the volume set at two. You hummed away to the song.

The screech came out of nowhere and the headlights blinded you. The impact crushed your side of the car and you cried out in both in shock and pain from the collision. The airbag released, slamming against your chest and face. 

It takes a moment before your brain registers the pain and then it hits you full force, your chest and face hurt, you feel a considerate ab=mount of pressure on your legs that causes you to wince. You head hurts and you think there might be something dripping down your face. You lift your head up, realising the team are also in the car with you. But there’s no one there. Everyone’s gone.

“H’tch?”

A hand is placed on your shoulder and your head snaps to them. Hotch. He’s speaking but you can’t hear him over hte blood rushing through your ears. “Where’s everyone else?” You watch his lips carefully, ‘everyone’s okay, paramedics are on the way’ you nod, hoping you read his lips right. 

When the paramedics get there, they quickly assess the situation. The car crunched under the impact of the other car, trapping your legs. No fractures or breaks, or permanent damage, nothing that wouldn’t heal with time. You have a concussion and severe bruising from the airbag, but it could be worse. 

A month later, you’re fully healed and your doctors are okay with you being on active duty. You were fine. Except for the nightmare, the fear of cars, the fear of driving, and the irrational connection between coffee and danger.

But that’s a story for another time.

[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

[hookaroo]

Laden of the Torn (19 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 @killian-whump <3

Killian was not feeling lightheaded. Absolutely not. Everything was just fine, thank you very much, and he certainly hadn’t almost lost his footing just a moment ago on a leg that was simultaneously stiff and unsteady, alternately skewered by intense heat or disturbingly muted sensation from toes to knee joint. No, there was no need to stop and rest; he could continue on like this for ages. He was a pirate in his prime, not a single thing ailing him, with all the strength and stamina of a well-rested athletic champion.

If only he could convince himself of the falsehoods he was silently reciting.

He paused to catch his breath, hunched slightly, but mindful of the priceless cargo nestled upon his shoulder. Deliberately avoiding catching sight of his haphazardly bandaged hand--the thumb and forefinger felt icy cold at this point despite the intense throbbing from the wounds above--he squinted at the natural rock spires lining the horizon.

“Look up ahead, little one. Do you see those two angled peaks, like rapiers crossed in battle? I believe I recall seeing them as I left your home. That means we’re nearly there.���

Puzzle only curled tighter against his neck, trembling. Did she know what a rapier was? Could she even understand anything he was saying to her? Wishing desperately that he had some food to give her, or at least a little water, Killian used his sleeve to wipe sweat from his face. Pity he'd been forced to leave the damned map in Lack’s one-handed clutches… this place was such a maze, with so many trails to the impassable, that if he were wrong about his landmark, he could wander until he wasted away and no one would ever know what became of him. Still could, even with the correct landmark in sight, if he were unable to reach it. To say nothing of the venom likely making its inexorable journey throughout his circulatory system, wreaking havoc everywhere it touched…

But he said none of this aloud. Instead, he nudged his cheek gently against the tiny, frightened creature he carried, and whispered the one truth he knew above all others:

“Your papa is going to be so happy to see you.”

***

The pleasant air grew heavy, humidity settled in the zig-zags between rock walls, and only the most oblivious fool would have missed the signs of a brewing storm. An uneasy Killian had no choice but to continue onward, no shelter to be found. The First Clan would not be living in their cave if this area were prone to flash flooding, he reasoned. So that, at least, was a hazard he could probably disregard.

The sky darkened in a matter of moments, a chilly breeze hastening the transition. The gaps between towering razor stones served to channel the wind to a stronger fury, and Killian could feel Puzzle’s trembling intensify. As the first fat raindrops began to fall, he made one more quick survey of his surroundings; he’d really hoped to miraculously find himself back at the First encampment before the storm hit. But no such luck, and the clouds weren’t even giving him the courtesy of a lovely shower before the torrential downpour.

Soaked almost immediately, Killian headed for the nearest patch of semi-flat ground and stiffly lowered himself down for a rest. He could at least try to keep Puzzle somewhat warm, if not dry. The ever-present serrations dug into his hips and back, and he scowled. Why any creature would choose to make this inhospitable landscape home would always be a mystery to him.

A grumble of thunder echoed the sentiment. The baby monkey on his shoulder gave a single squeak of fright before attempting to burrow beneath the sodden collar of his shirt. Too quickly, Killian reached up to try and soothe her, only for searing pain at the base of his thumb to remind him of the bite wounds restricting mobility in his hand. Reflexive cursing caught in his throat, but wouldn’t have mattered anyway as another rumble vibrated the rocks around them.

Gingerly, wincing with every twitch of his thumb, Killian wrestled a few more buttons loose on his shirt. The fabric could not have been any wetter, but it had to be marginally warmer there against the skin of his abdomen, and it would shelter Puzzle from the biting wind blowing past at regular intervals. Killian rested his left arm across his lap to act as a cushion for her, then reached up with an aching hand to stroke her saturated fur.

“Don’t be frightened, love,” he murmured as tenderly as he knew how. She stirred, craving the reassuring touch, but hesitant to leave her self-made shelter. “You’re safe, and the storm will pass.”

He carefully peeled the shirt back from his chest and shoulder, making a visible tunnel from collar down to arm-cushion. And Puzzle could not resist the prospect of a dark, secure hideaway. In a heartbeat, she had disappeared into the tunnel and curled up in the crook of Killian’s elbow, wet fur tickling his ribs, and he couldn't prevent the small, charmed smile that crossed his face. He settled himself more comfortably against the stone and suppressed a shiver as a particularly strong gust of wind blew the rain sideways against his face. He could feel Puzzle’s heartbeat speed up in response to a thunderclap directly above their heads, and he rested his hand near the trembling lump inside his shirt, using one finger to stroke soothingly despite the burn the movements caused.

He couldn't sing.

If it were Alice, he would be singing her favorite songs with her, wrapping her tightly in his arms, and neither one of them would notice a single thing about the storm. But here, he was cold, wet, and uncomfortable, his love trapped far away, and even if he managed to start a verse, he knew he’d never be able to finish.

This small innocent, though… she’d just lost her mother, and was missing her father in the way it destroyed him to think that Alice was missing him, and if someone could be with her and provide her just a little comfort, he would give anything to ensure they did as much as they were able. And so, for Favor’s sake, and Puzzle’s, and the hypothetical reciprocity he’d just envisioned, Killian began to hum softly. None of her favorites, nothing that would conjure a breath-stealing, throat-clogging memory, just an old melody without particular meaning. Puzzle may not even be able to hear much above the driving rain, but she would feel the vibrations and the intentions behind it and perhaps draw some reassurance.

Killian closed his eyes, sheets of water cascading down every inch of exposed skin, washing away mud and sweat and crusted blood. He shivered and hummed and tried not to dwell on the words he’d withheld from little Puzzle. Because he was no longer certain they were true.

“The storm will pass,” he would have told Alice. “They always do.”

***

This literal storm did pass, of course, long after Puzzle’s trembling had ceased and her regular breaths told Killian she’d been able to settle into the untroubled sleep of the very young. He himself had not been so fortunate, and as the downpour became a drizzle and the winds ceased, all of his pains were magnified until he was sorely tempted to stretch out and give up right there.

But then the tiny life at his side fidgeted, a quiet yawn and miniature sneeze awakening protective instincts, and he just couldn’t bring himself to fail her so completely. He groaned softly, shifted positions with a wince, and gathered his strength to continue.

There were puddles now, collected in hollows and crevices, and with his bandages washed clean, maybe he could even scoop up a mouthful of water that wouldn’t taste so much like blood.

“What do you think, princess? Time to prove to Blackbeard that I’m not entirely as useless as he imagines?”

A timid, bedraggled head peered out over the “V” in his low neckline. Killian smiled.

“All right, then. Let’s get you home.”

[whumpshots]

Whump Snippet Saturday #12

"You gotta stay strong, whumpee," caretaker calls over the wind as they carry them further and further through the snow on their back. The storm surprised them, neither of them was prepared for this weather.

But with whumpee's injury, it's even harder to make their way back to their base. Caretaker was barely able to stop the bleeding, now they can't even see what's before them.

"Leave me," whumpee mumbles with that little strength they have left. "At least you have to get out of here."

Caretaker grits their teeth. "The fuck I'm gonna leave you out here. Save your strength, whumpee. I'm gonna get us out of here."

[whumpetywhump]

Handsome Siblings - Ep. 33

[crystalcatgamer]

Hello there, Argo II (Aren’t you lucky to have a demigod fathered by the god of storms?)

The group breaks off into its threes and twos, talking quietly to each other as the rain kept beating down above deck, the ship rocking and trying not to jump with every loud boom of thunder. It starts getting less and less startling, and Jason thinks he might even be able to manage a light sleep like this, nestled among his fellow demigods.

Then the ship shudders something fierce, and they hear Festus roar before it’s lost to the thundering rain. Everyone jolts up just as the ship leans to the side with a groan, sending people tumbling onto their sides.

Jason scrambles for purchase, grabbing onto Piper and Leo before they hit the wall. Percy is braced against it, holding Annabeth protectively and looking at the ceiling as Leo swore something fierce.

A nasty storm turns the Argo II into a glorified rollercoaster, and Percy steps out into the pouring rain to put a stop to it.

(It is a difficult thing to remember that Poseidon is the god of storms, not Zeus.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42257820

[whumpcereal]

whumptober, day nine: sleeping in shifts | tossing and turning | caught in a storm

a softer offering. a follow-up to lightning glass, during jack's recovery. masterlist here. thanks to @darkthingshappen for the encouragement this afternoon!

content warnings for: mentions of past trauma, mentions of consensual spice, conditioned whumpee

future snippet, rest now

“You’re sure about this?”

Jack is tired of that question. He knows why Joe asks; he appreciates that Joe asks. But he doesn’t want to be asked anymore. 

Still, he answers. “I am.” He stops himself from adding the requisite Joe to the end. He doesn’t have to. He knows that. 

“It’s just that I don’t want to do too much too fast.” 

“Joe, we’ve slept together.” 

“Not since–” 

“No, I mean we’ve slept together.” 

When they went out to Montauk. When the storm rolled through. Jack let Joe crash against him, move inside him, bring him back. He waded into the breakers, and he did not drown. 

They didn’t talk about it after. It didn’t seem right. It’s their secret. Speaking it out loud will mean forward motion, and neither of them know if they are ready for that.

But they’ve been home for a week now, and they are still sleeping in their separate bedrooms. 

It isn’t that they haven’t made progress. They kiss good night. They touch; Jack’s hand on Joe’s hip, Joe’s fingers soft on the back of Jack’s scarred neck. 

And then, they part ways in the cramped hallway, Carl at Jack’s heels. 

It doesn’t make any sense. 

“I want to sleep with you. Like we used to,” Jack says softly. He fixes his gaze on the pilly carpet, and he feels Joe’s eyes on the top of his head. It still feels like he shouldn’t say anything, that he should wait for Joe to make the first move, but he knows it isn’t true. Maybe it never was.

He hears the bob of Joe’s swallow. “You want to?”

“Yeah.” 

Joe hesitates for a moment, and when Jack looks up, Joe’s green eyes are wide. “I do too.”

It shouldn’t be so difficult to admit that they want one another, but it is. Jack knows that Joe is afraid of his own desire, that he thinks he’s going to derail Jack’s progress by loving him the wrong way. And Jack–Jack doesn’t know how to trust that what he wants is, well, what he actually wants. 

But he’s pretty sure about this. He is. Warmth pools in his chest, and a tentative smile spreads across his face before he can stop it. “Well, then–” 

“Then–” 

Jack stands, and he moves to the sofa. He braces his hands on Joe’s shoulders and bends down to kiss him. The kiss is soft, and Joe’s lips open to yield to him. The tip of Jack’s tongue moves over Joe’s bottom lip, slips inside Joe’s mouth, laps at Joe with a tenderness Jack had almost forgotten he had. 

Joe moans softly, more breath than sound, and Jack withdraws, pressing one more gentle kiss to Joe’s lips before he stands again. 

“Let’s go to bed.” 

It is Jack who takes Joe’s hand and leads him down the hallway. There is no parting of ways; Jack pulls Joe into his room, and Joe follows, Carl padding in behind them. 

Jack snaps on the bedside lamp. Joe stands on the other side of the bed, his cheeks rosy and his eyes shy. They’ve already made love, but somehow, this is more intimate. 

“You’re not going to sleep in your jeans, are you?” Jack asks. 

Joe looks down, as though he’d forgotten he is wearing clothes at all. He shakes his head. “No.” 

“It’s okay, Joey.” 

They undress, piece by piece, but they do not watch one another. Jeans slide over hips and down to the carpet. Shirts are pulled over tousled heads. Jack slips on the pajamas that lie at the foot of the bed. Joe stands in only his boxer-briefs, his naked chest practically beating in anticipation. Carl watches them both with curious eyes. 

They meet eyes over the mattress, and Jack smiles. Joe smiles back. He turns down the comforter on his side; Jack follows suit on the other. They wait. 

“This is silly, right?” Joe lets go a nervous laugh. “Like, we’ve done this hundreds of times. It’s just sleeping.” 

“Yeah.”

But it’s more than that, and they both know it. Doing this–it’s reclaiming another bit of what Ivan took from them. It’s scary every time. What if it doesn’t work? What if they can’t get it back?

What if he wins? 

Jack lets himself slip under the comforter, and his stomach flutters when he feels Joe settle beside him. Not too close, not touching, but still: Joe is there with him. They are together. 

It’s been so long. 

Joe exhales, his breath shaking. “Okay.” 

“It is,” Jack reassures him. 

He turns on his hip, propping himself up on his elbow. Joe stares at the ceiling, his fingers picking nervously at the top hem of the comforter. Jack reaches over and stills Joe’s hand. Joe’s head turns, and in the lamplight, it’s easy to see the dark circles that are stamped beneath his eyes. 

Jack sighs. “Baby, you look like hell.” 

“That’s very romantic, thank you.” 

“I haven’t taken very good care of you,” Jack says softly. 

“You couldn’t,” Joe whispers. He looks back at the ceiling.

“I can now,” Jack says. He lets his fingers slip to Joe’s face and turns it gently toward him. “I will.”

Joe’s eyes shine. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Jack says, and he knows that it is true. 

“I love you,” Joe says. He closes his eyes and leans into the softness of Jack’s touch. 

“I love you too.” 

A tear slips down Joe’s cheek. “You don’t know what it means to hear you say that again.”

“I might,” Jack counters. He brushes Joe’s tears away with the pad of his thumb. “Rest now, Joey. I’m here.” 

“You are,” Joe says softly. “You really are.”

Jack reaches to turn off the light, and in the darkness, the sounds of their breath are suddenly louder. Carl grunts, but he at least has the wisdom to settle himself on the floor tonight. 

Jack wriggles down into the sheets, and he stretches his arm toward Joe. “C’mere.” 

Joe complies, rolling into Jack’s arms and settling his cheek against Jack’s cotton-clad chest. Jack can feel Joe’s chest rising and falling against him. His fingers slip into Joe’s hair, and Joe tilts his head to press a kiss to the underside of Jack’s jaw. 

It doesn’t take long for Joe’s breath to deepen, for his body to slacken in Jack’s arms. Somehow, Jack knows sleep won’t find him for a while. But that’s okay. He can finally take care of Joe. He wants to, and he knows now that he can do what he wants. 

“Sleep tight, baby,” Jack murmurs. He presses a kiss to Joe’s hair and listens to his breath in the dark.

taglist: @oddsconvert, @darkthingshappen, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @sparrowsage, @aut0psy-s, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @no-terms-and-conditions-apply, @reflected-pain-deactivated20221, @darlingwhump, @squishablesunbeam, @dont-be-gentle-please, @deltaxxk, @irishwhiskeygrl, @keep-beach-city-werid, @keeper-of-all-the-random-things, @hold-him-down, @peachy-panic, @whumpyblogthing, @sowhumpful, @considerablecolors

[random-fandom-whump]

Whumptober Day 9: Caught in a Storm ↳ Krypton S01E04

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Whumptober Day 9: Caught in a Storm

Crawl (2019) / Twister (1996)

The Day After Tomorrow (2004) / Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back (1980)

Fargo S1 E6 (2014) / Avatar: The Last Airbender S1 E12 (2005)

Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) / Hidalgo (2004)

[whumpty-dumpty]

Whumptober 2022 | no. 9 | THE VERY NOISY NIGHT

[hopeamarsu]

Whumptober Day 9: The Very Noisy Night

Whumptober masterlist

King Arthur (King Arthur: The Legend of the Sword) x f!reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Seeking shelter, huddling for warmth, wounds, sexual tension

Summary: It's going to be a long, noisy night and you can't sleep, too worried over his wounds.

Sleeping in Shifts | tossing and turning | Caught in a Storm

You huddled deeper into the furs on the floor and over your body, the dying embers of the flame from the fireplace barely keeping you warm. It was going to get even colder in the abandoned monastery you and your crew had sought shelter from the storm. 

The wind outside howled like a banshee and every once in a while, something heavy and powerful struck the earth, shooking it down to its core. Your only hope was that the torrential rain that accompanied the lightning strikes would make sure this forest wouldn’t burn. The same rain that had drowned you all like rats and made your crew locate in this place by the mountain. 

You didn’t know whether to curse or bless the lads for electing you to take the first shift while the rest of them piled close to the fireplace and began to sleep. Well, all but one it seemed. Your eyes shifted from the open doorway to look at Arthur, who had chosen a spot not with the rest of the lads but a little closer to you. 

“Is your arm bothering you?” You whispered, nodding towards arm draped over his stomach on a makeshift sling. The blond man grinned, seemingly unbothered by the stinging pain he must be in. 

“It’s but a love bite,” Arthur quipped, jovial smile on his lips. 

You knew better though. The boar had nearly taken out his entire arm and it had been sheer luck Arthur had been able to twist in a way that made the tusks only clip his arm, not pierce it completely. The animal had met its demise soon after and was strapped to the back of the wagon. The blood that had spilled from his wounds would haunt your nightmares though. 

“Will you let me look at it once I wake up Wet Stick for his shift?” You were the designated healer in the group after all. The need to make sure he was well on the mend coursed in your veins, calling for confirmation of that. The man had the audacity to wink, offering you another grin. 

“Sweet One, if you want me naked, all you have to do is ask.”

“Arthur…” You warned him quietly, both to keep him quiet as not to wake the lads and not show him just how much he meant to you. How much he’d always meant to you and how much it had scared you to see him hurt like that. 

Sure, you knew the man was capable to look after himself but just like he kept an eye out for the girls at the brothel you had both grown up in, you kept your eye on him. You cared for him and felt fear in your heart every time he went out of his way to get himself in trouble. Arthur seemed to sense something shift in the air between you because his eyes grew warmer, more gentle. 

“Of course, Sweet One. I’m all yours.”

If only he was truly yours, you sighed and smiled weakly in his direction. It must’ve been too weak and too visible, because suddenly Arthur straightened himself and slipped out from under his own furs. He crossed the room in a swagger, despite his injury before lowering himself beside you. Soundlessly, he picked up some of the furs and slid underneath. You were now closer than ever and his proximity made you shiver for an entire different reason than the bitter cold wind howling outside. 

“What’s the matter, love? Tell me.” He demanded softly, his uninjured hand coming up to cradle your cheek. “What has you all worried?” 

“You. That boar,” You whispered, unable to hide from him now that he was this close. His blue eyes were piercing and focused on you, making you feel like you were the center of his world at the moment. You were sure he saw all of you now, nothing remained hidden under the furs. Not your body, not your heart, not your soul. “I am fine, sweetheart, I promise. You did an excellent job with the poultice, I hardly feel a thing.” 

His hand cupped your cheek, cradled it in its large paw. There was something intimate about the gesture and you found yourself wishing you could kiss him. Arthur leaned closer, his breath mingling with yours as he searched for something in your eyes. You tried to keep them open, no matter how vulnerable the moment made you feel. How raw, since you knew you were shit at hiding emotions. 

“Sweet One…” He breathed out, awe in his tone but before you could answer, a shuffling coming from the pile of bodies behind him made both you and Arthur tense. A final flicker of light in his deep blue eyes as they dipped down to your lips and back up again longingly, he moved further away, making you feel colder than the night air around you. 

“I’m up, I’m up,” Wet Stick yawned. His head twisted from side to side, the horrible crack and pop of his bones making you wince. You hadn’t even begun to move, when an arm shot out to rest at your hip. Surprised, you looked at it before turning your wide eyes to look at the gorgeous man who came with the muscled arm.   

“Go back to sleep, Wet Stick.” Arthur’s voice spoke, cutting the air like a whip. His eyes, now darkened with passion, pinned you down. “I’ve got the next shift.”

“Boss,” Wet Stick groaned happily, before flopping back down and falling asleep instantly. Neither of you heard it though, too focused on one another. “I believe you had a wound to inspect,” Arthur grinned, cutting through the tension gathering up like the storm outside your sanctuary. “Will you allow me to conduct my own investigation after that? You’ve kept me up half the night already with impure thoughts and I feel the need to find out if your lips are as sweet as your name.” 

[ace-trainguys]

Whumtober day 9 - prompt is caught in a storm

Not only does Ingo have a head injury and no idea where he is, he’s caught in the middle of a blizzard