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whump-me-all-night-long · 4 years

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The Scoop of a Lifetime - 27

Whumptober Day 27 - OK, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD?

Tagging @mnmlover2002 @cupcakes-and-pain @appy-polly-loggies @lave-e @lovely-little-whump let me know if you want to be added/removed!

CW: extreme weather, flashback/nightmare to battlefield-type setting, Wildre is kind of creepy here, but also comforting? Let me know if I missed anything!

Masterlist // Previous

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There was a loud crack and then a boom. They were surrounded by gunshots and explosions. Their head was pounding, their ears were ringing, their vision was blurring. They were shaking and sobbing and breaking. Blood dripped down their forehead, tears dripped down their face, sweat dripped down their back. Their ankles protested and cried out and broke a little more with each step.

The next explosion was louder, closer, scarier. They whimpered, their limping pace slowing. Their legs finally gave out under them, and as they collapsed to the ground, they could feel the broken bits of concrete break their skin and dig into them. They ignored the blood leaking from their scraped up palms and knees, their body folding neatly in half as they tried to make themself as small a target as possible.

please someone anyone help me save me i don’t want to die don’t let me die please-

The explosion overtook them, gravel and metal and glass flying through the air around them. They felt cuts and bruises and sores blooming across their body and they wanted to scream but it was so loud. Their mouth was open, their vocal cords vibrating, but they couldn’t hear themself. A piece of rock hit their shoulder, shaking them, and it seemed to feel more real more painful more deadly. They squeezed tighter into themself, darkness beginning to spread from the edges of their vision.

Devin jerked awake at the next explosion. They looked around, shrouded in near complete darkness, their heart pounding, but there was no threat. Instead there was the silhouette of a very grumpy man standing over them, a hand lifted outward, as if to touch them. They blinked up, uncomprehendingly.

“What happened?” they asked groggily. “What- where- what?”

He leaned down in front of them, in front of where they were laying in a bed they didn’t know but did. “Devin, you were having a nightmare.” He spoke in a smooth, low voice.

“A- a nightmare?” They shook their head, brow furrowed as they scrambled to make sense of their memories. “No. No- there was a- an explosion, I know, I saw it, I was there. There were explosions and guns and people and oh god I almost died-”

He put an arm on their back, rubbing soothing circles as their breathing picked up. They tried to focus on the touch, but their mind seemed to keep spinning, bouncing from one fragment of a thought to the next. “Yes. There was an explosion, l-Devin.” He hesitated, not that Devin could see much in the dark. “You were there, but that- that was days ago. You’re fine now, just a mild concussion and some scrapes and bruises. The doctor cleared you, said you’d be okay.” He repeated this in a manner that implied he’d had to remind them several times.

There was a burst of blinding light followed quickly by a tumultuous boom. Devin thought this is it i’m going to die i’m still trapped in the gunfight they’re going to kill me flinched, a racking sob escaping their clamped lips.

The man paused for a moment before leaning in and wrapping his steady arms around their shaking body. He rubbed along their back and arms gently, murmuring softly, “Don’t worry, now. It’s just a thunderstorm. The raid is over, we won. You don’t need to be scared anymore. It’s just a bad storm.” He repeated quiet reassurances until their breathing returned to a normal pattern, their heart to a normal speed.

Devin nodded slightly. “It- it’s just a storm, just a b-bad storm,” they echoed shakily, leaning into his embrace.

“That’s right,” he whispered. “Now, are you good? Because it’s the middle of the night, and I’m exhausted from the last couple days.” He made to pull away, but they gripped his arms with a surprising strength.

“No!” they cried. He froze and they begged softly, “Stay. Please, stay, until- until I can fall back asleep.”

He tilted his head slightly, before giving a shallow nod. “Okay, just until you go back to sleep.” He pulled the rest of his body up onto the bed, his large frame dwarfing their own. His arms tightened back around them, and they seemed to melt into his chest.

Almost immediately, their body relaxed and they were slowly rocked to sleep to a quiet chorus of “You’re okay, Devin, you’re mine, love, I won’t let anything happen to you,” that soothed the stormy seas of their mind.

Wildre stared down at the small body pressed into his own, the chaotic storm outside the walls of the house fading away in his mind. Devin seemed so much smaller, more fragile, more breakable like this.

Their cries had woken him up, from all the way down the hall, and he had shot out of bed, thinking someone from that other damn meddling gang had broken in, had found them, and was hurting Devin. He had stumbled down the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the thick socks he wore. He had flung open the door only to see Devin thrashing around in their own sheets, sobs ripping free of their throat. Their brow was furrowed and they seemed terrified, in pain, in need of help.

He had reached out, had gently laid a hand on their shoulder to wake them up. They had flinched back and for a moment he had thought, Good, they woke up, before he realized that their eyes were still closed. They curled in on themself, their whimpers of pain growing louder.

He shook them more insistently. “Devin,” he said, voice thick with sleep. “Devin, love you have to wake up.”

They woke up slowly, as if with great difficulty. When their eyes had opened, he had expected them to widen with fear, with anger, at the sight of him. Instead they were blown open, irrational terror written over their face. Their eyes had locked onto him, and where he thought he’d see disgust, hatred, horror, he saw pure trust, a cry for help.

Now, the two of them laid here, together, on the bed not quite big enough for the both of them. Once he was sure Devin was asleep, he had tried slipping away, back to his own too-big bed, but they had immediately stirred, reaching for them. Not wanting to wake them back up, he had simply stayed put.

He was no longer tired, the events of the late night, or early morning, depending on how you looked at it, had made sure of that. He remained like that, half sitting against the headboard, half reclined on the bed. He knew his neck would regret it in the morning, but he thought again of the trusting look Devin had given him. He knew they probably thought he was someone else, Duncan, or one of those other names they had repeated while they were delirious with fever. That one in particular, that they spoke with so much emotion.

He shook his head to clear the thoughts. There’s no use dwelling on these things. Instead, he watched over Devin as the storm settled and the sun rose, slipping back out of their bed, their room, as he saw them beginning to wake.

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evilwriter37 · 4 years

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Whumptober Day 27: Wait it Out

Rated: teen

Warnings: none

Pairings: none

Word Count: 784

Summary: Hiccup and Toothless are caught in a blizzard far away from Berk.

The sky was growing dark and the temperature had dropped. Hiccup flew Toothless as hard and fast as he could. He had to get back to Berk before this storm started. And he could tell it was going to be one Hel of a storm, what with how dark the clouds were and how they’d gathered. He didn’t know how many hours he had until it would start.

“Come on, Toothless, come on!” Getting caught in a blizzard could mean the death of them. A blizzard meant the temperatures would drop to far below freezing, the wind would pick up and tear at them, the snow would blind them and encase them in frigid white. Hiccup couldn’t let that happen.

About an hour later, the temperature so cold that Hiccup could feel it through his fur-lined leather gloves, the first snowflakes began to fall. They were fat, coming in small flurries. Hiccup lifted up an arm to shield his eyes from them.

“Toothless, come on!”

The dragon made a sound of complaint and worry, put on more speed. They would be back at Berk in two hours.

If they even had two hours.

Then Hiccup made a quick decision. There was no making it back to Berk like this, not right now. He turned Toothless around, and he made a confused sound as he followed the command.

“We’re heading to Dragon Island,” Hiccup told him. A gust of wind carried his voice away, but hopefully Toothless had heard him. Dragon Island was closer than Berk. They could go there and set up shelter and weather out the storm.

“I should have listened to Gothi,” Hiccup muttered angrily, and the anger was directed at himself. “I should have fucking listened to Gothi.” Gothi had warned of a blizzard, had told the Dragon Riders not to go far, but Hiccup had done it anyway after hearing news of a nearby Dragon Hunter ship. He hadn’t found the ship, had instead been led into the middle of nowhere.

Hiccup continued cursing himself as they flew. The wind began to pick up, and Hiccup was shivering in his furs. It would be warmer not as high up, so Hiccup brought Toothless lower. He could barely feel the temperature change.

In the distance, a dark spot began to grow on the horizon, and it wasn’t clouds. The clouds were already gathered. This, instead, was Dragon Island. Hiccup whooped for joy. Shelter was close by, and that meant warmth.

“Good job, Toothless!” Hiccup congratulated his dragon, who had been flying hard for the past few hours. They landed at Dragon Island. The cave Hiccup wanted to go to was on the far side of the island, but he couldn’t risk flying any longer, not with the wind and low visibility. He’d entirely miss it from up high.

There was already about a foot of snow on the ground from past storms. Toothless tramped through it at Hiccup’s direction, heading for the cave. Hiccup had some wood in his saddlebags, having brought some just in case he’d need to quickly build a fire.

Visibility was brought lower as night fell and the storm progressed. The wind began howling, the sound shrill and long and lonely. The snow whipped this way and that, and Hiccup could hardly see.

But, Toothless knew where the cave was. They found it, entered it with relief. Hiccup sighed as he carefully dismounted. He tried to wipe snow from his eyes, but that just got more on his face. He shook out his hair. He was shivering violently, his clothing soaked and freezing.

“O-okay,” he stuttered. “T-time to g-g-get that fire going.” He clumsily took the wood from the saddlebags, dropping a few pieces. He cursed when one landed on his foot. But, despite all the struggle, he got the wood into a pile with some dry kindling, and Toothless shot a blast to light it.

Hiccup didn’t want to take off his furs, but they needed to dry. Toothless was still shaking snow off himself, pacing around the fire to keep warm.

Once his furs were off, Hiccup sat in front of the fire with his knees pulled up, shivering. For the moment he wished that Toothless was warm-blooded, that he could provide him with more body heat. But Toothless was surely cold too. Maybe Hiccup could give him some of his.

“Toothless, come here.” Hiccup beckoned with his hand. His dragon and friend plodded over, settled himself around Hiccup, keeping him by his belly. Hiccup curled up against him.

“There. That better, bud?”

Toothless let out an affirmative rumble.

“Yeah, it is for me too.”

And, wrapped together like that, they waited out the storm.

#whumptober2020 #no.27 #ok who had natural disasters on their 2020 bingo card?#extreme weather #httyd #how to train your dragon #fanfiction #whump #hiccup!whump

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green-eyed-whumpster · 4 years

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Whumptober: Promp 27

- Whumpee couldn’t bring themselves to lift off of the ground, and shivered as the cold concrete seeped into their skin. Thunder cracked overhead and rain pounded the concrete ceiling of the abandoned building they had taken refuge in.

Whumper didn’t think they would risk escaping in this weather. Their mistake. Yes, it had meant walking through rain so hard it felt like individual blows, and slipping through mud so deep they almost sunk into it, but it was worth it to collapse in their temporary haven.

They shuddered as their wounds, reopened by their frantic movements and stumbled panic, bled into the water dripping from their skin, staining the puddle a beautiful and disturbing display of desperation.

Crack.

They flinched under the threatening sound and whimpered softly.

It was okay. They thought. Whumper won’t come for me here. Hopefully.

#whumptober2020 #no.27 #ok who had natural disasters on their 2020 bingo card?#extreme weather #whump prompt #escaped whumpee

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abused-sides · 4 years

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Moonlight [Whumptober 2020]

Prompt: No. 27: Ok, Who Had Natural Disasters On Their 2020 Bingo Card? [Power Outage]

Synopsis: The boys are presented with an opportunity.

Trigger warnings: Cults, gaslighting/manipulation, restraints, kidnapping, non-con, humiliation, treating people like property, blood, knives, violence/beatings, a person in a cage, guns, body horror/gore, reference to murder/hate crimes/child death/minor character death, vomiting, non-consensual drugging, burn scar mentions and brief descriptions, off-screen dumpster diving, major characters talking about potentially dying (but I don’t write major character death so no worries there), branding/burning, nonconsensual body-modification, murder threat, some gross bodily fluids, blackmail, vomit eating threat, domestic and child abuse mention/implication, toxic masculinity mentioned and preyed on, survivor’s guilt, implied suicidal thoughts past and present, chronic back pain, pretty detailed description of an allergic reaction (if you have food allergies it could potentially trigger a psuedo-reaction), being lured into a trap, I Swear That Logan Is A Good Boy (like almost-unsympathetic logan), murder threat, let me know if I missed anything

Word count: 1103

October 23rd. 11:48 pm.

Thunder boomed outside.

Logan and Janus gripped onto each other. Neither Bates nor Styx had been back since bringing Logan in. Logan had stayed focused on exercising. As much as Janus insisted he shouldn’t wear himself out, he spent every moment he could building up his endurance and upper body strength.

The storm started as a drizzle around noon, then the wind came in, knocking the droplets against the narrow windows at the top of their wall. Around sundown, the first lightning strikes came. Logan stood on one of the desks and a box to peek out the window.

“God, there’s so many fuckin’ guards,” he snapped. “He fucking doubled his forces since we left.”

“Yeah, and they’re more loyal than we ever were.” Janus shifted uncomfortably. As much as they all hated it, Remus made sure to lock Janus back up every time he left. “I think he started them at a younger age. Probably around the time we were picked up, just brought in slower.”

“I’m going to kill that man,” he said lowly.

Logan eventually settled back next to Janus. It was a few hours later when the hanging light, just a bulb and some wire, flickered and then shorted. Logan gripped Janus’ hand as the darkness swallowed them.

They breathed heavily. Bates was shameless in the light. What would he do when no one could see?

The door slammed open. Janus bit back a scream. A cone of light streamed through. Logan held his hands up and Janus flinched away from the brightness.

“It’s time to go.”

Remus pulled Janus’ chains off and grabbed his and Logan’s hands.

“Remus?” Janus stumbled after him. “Are you sure?”

“There’s not a lot of time, just follow me!”

Janus squeezed his eyes shut and let himself be dragged alone. Part of him wanted to curl back into the darkness, lay low and let whatever would happen happen, rather than deal with the punishment of being found.

And to think, he was the one to lead the escape in the first place.

What happened to him?

“STOP!”

Janus’ vision blurred, his mind freezing. Remus and Logan tugged at his arm desperately but he couldn’t move.

“Janus,” Remus begged.

“Remus?” The guard came close enough in the black for the moonlight to highlight one side, just enough to tell where they stood. Their gun rustled as they slid it in their holster. “Is that Janus and Logan with you?”

“Please, I’m sorry!” Janus wailed. He trembled, thrashing against Remus’ grip. “Please, don’t!”

It took Remus a moment to realize Janus was talking to him.

Logan tugged on Janus’ other arm. “Let go of us!” He snarled.

“Orders from Bates,” Remus said weakly. “You heard of what happened when they picked this one up?”

“Yeah…” They sighed solemnly. “I did. Be careful in the dark. I almost shot you.”

Remus laughed nervously. “You be careful with that trigger. I’m on a time limit, though, so I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Remus.”

Janus dug his heels in as Remus dragged him down the hall. As soon as they turned the corner, they broke back into a sprint, flying through the corridors. Remus dropped their hands and threw up a classroom door.

Inside, an oil lantern lit up the room. Just on the edge of the glow was Virgil’s cage, the small boy himself curled up painfully, his pale skin littered in marks. Styx jumped to his feet and dropped his book, eyes wide.

“Remus? What are you-”

Remus snatched the lantern and slammed it in the side of Styx’s face. The glass shattered as Styx screamed. Remus lifted it up again, and brought it down hard on his head. He crumpled to the ground.

Janus ran to the cage and Remus handed him the key. As soon as he got it open, Virgil launched out and curled into Janus’ lap.

“We don’t have time, it’s okay,” Janus whispered. He kissed Virgil’s head quickly and stood with Virgil in his arms.

Remus shrugged his jacket off and tossed it over Virgil’s bare body. Janus held it securely and followed him back into the hall.

Logan breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s go. Some people rushed by talking, Bates ordered them to check on us.”

“They didn’t see you?” Remus asked in panic.

“No. Let’s go.”

They didn’t realize Remus was taking them deeper into the school until they reached the centre garden, where Virgil had his allergic reaction. Janus pulled him closer to his chest.

“We’re leaving?” Virgil whispered.

“Yes. Yes, we’re leaving.”

They crossed the garden and headed back into the school.

“Almost there,” Remus whispered.

They passed through the art wing, broken sculptures and cracked frames littering the ground. A few pieces still hung, but were too water damaged and dust-coated to be understood.

“Remus.”

They stopped in front of a large window. Moonlight glittered over them. A figure stood several feet out, staring at them.

Remus held out his arms, shielding the boys behind him. “Why does it matter if we leave? How does that hurt you?”

“Because I want you,” he knife caught a gleam of light, “and you’re mine.”

He charged. Janus stumbled back with Virgil, and Remus leapt to the side, but Logan met Bates’ pace. They grunted as Logan slammed into him, his grip holding Bates’ hand and knife in the air. Logan pushed, and Bates fumbled back, before Bates took Logan’s legs out from under him. Bates raised the knife.

Remus leapt. Logan scrambled to his feet, while Bates and Remus hit the ground. Janus hurried to set Virgil down and help Logan pull Remus up. A scuffle, a fumble, and a gasp with a slice—

Bates’ face crumpled in pain. Remus pulled the red blade out of Bates’ side, his hand covered in blood. He shoved the knife in Logan’s hand. Pale and shaky, he pulled his flannel off, revealing his sweat-coated skin as he tied it tight around his waist.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Bates; the blood pooling around him; growing and growing.

Virgil grabbed Remus’ clean hand. “We need to go,” he rasped.

Despite insisting he was fine, Virgil allowed Janus to scoop him back up and carry him. They made it through the rest of Remus’ path without any more interruptions. The burst outside, and didn’t stop until they found the cut in the fence Remus planted weeks ago, and slipped through. No one was around when they plunged into the treeline.

And they were out. The moon shone on them unobstructed, and they could go anywhere.

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whumpish · 3 years

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Ok, Who Had Natural Disasters On Their 2020 Bingo Card- Extreme Weather

Whumptober No. 27

The team has been caught in a torrential downpour on a mission. It shows no signs of letting up when they hear there’s a flash flood warning in effect. They’re told to stay indoors. It really isn’t too much of an issue for them at the moment, they’re on higher ground and inside. They watch as new channels show streets flooded with floating debris. Lifeboats carry people stranded on their roofs. They gather to get together and leave, but a quick head count reveals they aren’t all there. A and B are still out, they never returned. And A can’t swim.

#whumptober2020 #ok who had natural disasters on their 2020 bingo card?#extreme weather #no. 27 #whump prompt

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theundercovermarvelfan · 4 years

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Whumptober 2020 - Day 27

Whumtober Challenge @whumptober2020

Day 27 Ok, Who Had Natural Disasters On Their 2020 Bingo Card? Earthquake | Extreme Weather | Power Outage

The rain came down in torrential sheets. Lightning pierced the sky about once per minute, while thunder rolled through with almost a palpable force. The wind whipped around at a staggering force, already picking up debris.

“I think it’s about time to get the hell out of here,” Clint announced over the comms.

The five Earthbound Avengers were scattered throughout the area. Bruce had remained behind in the Quinjet, Natasha and Steve had infiltrated the compound and taken out their target, Clint had been posted in a tree on a hill to provide sniper support and Tony was flying overhead for aerial support.

And then the storm had rolled in.

Clint had eyed the dark clouds warily during the mission. He didn’t like the way that they look or how quickly they had been moving. He had Bruce check the weather radar from the jet, and he had reported that a storm was indeed heading their way, but there weren’t any significant warnings associated with it. But Clint couldn’t shake the ominous feeling in his gut. After all, he had grown up in Iowa, affectionately nicknamed Tornado Alley. He had learned early only to have a healthy vigilance when it came to thunderstorms.

“The storm’s coming at me from the other side of the Quinjet,” Tony said, tension lacing his tone. “I’m not going to be able to fly toward it, I’m gonna have to land and hoof it in.”

“Yeah, you’re going to want to get your ass out of the sky and ditch the metal suit before you get fried, Stark,” Clint said as he was climbing down out of the tree he had been perched in, blinking rain water out of his eyes.

The blur of red streaked out of the sky and landed heavily not far from Clint.

“Natasha and I are heading back to the jet to regroup with Bruce,” Steve said.

“You might want to have a more stable option ready, Cap,” Clint said as he squinted at the sky, noting how the lightning was flashing much more frequently than it was just a minute ago. The storm was progressing really quickly. “Bruce, any weather alerts?”

“A tornado watch was just issued for the area just a few minutes ago,” Bruce reported.

“I always forget, which is worse, the watch or the warning?” Tony asked, his tone unusually tense.

“Warning is worse,” Clint said -- vaguely aware of how he had to talk louder in order to be heard over the roaring wind -- as he started to hurry in the direction that Tony had landed. “We’re still in the ‘could happen’ territory and haven’t crossed into the ‘probably will happen’ arena. You get rid of that armor, Stark?”

“Yeah, the armor’s on an autopilot retreat,” Tony said. There was a bright flash that emanated from Tony’s location, causing Clint to skid to a halt for a moment. “And I’m very glad I’m not getting cooked in it right now.”

Clint started moving again, hurrying until he managed to spot Tony, who was heading toward Clint.

“We need to get to lower ground,” Clint said quickly, motioning Tony to follow him down the steeper side of the hill.

“The jet is that way,” Tony said, pointing in the opposite direction.

“The jet isn’t going to be any use if a tornado comes through and throws it like a ragdoll,” Clint said, quickly crossing the distance between them and grabbing Tony by the arm. “Right now, we need low ground.”

“But, Bruce said it was only a watch--”

“Clint, Tony, we’re back at the jet with Bruce and the tornado watch just got bumped up to a tornado warning,” Steve suddenly snapped over the line.

“Get out of the jet,” Clint ordered, tugging Tony after him as they headed down the hill, Tony now hurrying along and falling into step beside him.

“We’re out and looking for a safe place to hunker down,” Natasha assured him. “You and Stark need to do the same.”

“Working on it,” Clint confirmed.

The ground under their feet was losing it’s stability by the moment with the torrential downpour and they were half running, half sliding down it in their haste. Clint’s gaze darted around as they ran, looking for something -- anything -- that they could use for shelter. The lightning was now flashing nonstop, the thunder a continuous roar that vibrated down to Clint’s bones. There was also something else behind the drone, something higher pitch that sounded like…

A freight train.

“Go, go, go!” Clint shouted as he shoved Tony in front of him and toward a small rock outcropping he had just spotted. It was too small for both of them, but anything was better than nothing at this point. “Cover your head,” Clint yelled as Tony wedged into the outcropping, Clint wedging in as close behind him as possible.

Just in time for the world to be torn apart.

Clint squeezed his eyes shut and threw his hands over his head. And then all that they could do was huddle there and pray that the incoming tornado decided to spare them. Clint could feel debris striking his exposed back, some small impacts and others large enough to send jolts of pain through him. The wind was now a defining roar, drowning out even his voice to his own ears as he tried to yell at Tony to keep still when he felt him shifting -- later finding out he had just realized that Clint was still exposed and was trying to make more room for him.

Then, it was as if he had been grabbed around the middle and ripped him violently out of the outcropping, flying through the air for a brief few months before everything suddenly went black.

XxXxX

“Clint! Clint! Where are you!?”

“Clint! Can you hear us!”

“Clint!”

“Clint… Over here! I found him!”

Clint blinked blearily as a flurry of voices slowly made their way into his consciousness. Brown, green and red blurs drifted around him dizzyingly. His whole body ached with pain, and there was a strange sensation of something falling on him. Water?

“Clint? Can you hear me? Please?”

At the sound of Natasha’s voice, Clint’s head instinctively shifted in that direction. A gentle hand put pressure on his shoulder, another hand carefully weaving into his hair. Slowly, the world began to return to focus.

“Nat?” Clint rasped.

The relief that washed over Natasha’s face was enough to knock her back on her heels. “He’s alive!” she called over her shoulder. “Bring the Quinjet around!”

“Wha’...?” Clint murmured, still not understanding what was going on.

“You got your ass kicked by a tornado, Feathers.”

Clint’s eyes wandered up at the sound of a new voice. Tony. And then it all came rushing back to him so suddenly that it took his breath away. Clint eyed Tony critically. He had some visible cuts and bruises and he looked terribly disheveled, but he was still in one piece.

“You’re going to be okay,” Natasha assured him. “I don’t see anything too serious here. You must not have gotten pulled into the tornado, just thrown by some of the outer winds.”

“Is tha’ all?” Clint said as he huffed something between a laugh and a cough.

“Steve and Bruce are on their way with the jet,” Natasha said. “They’ll be here in a minute and then we’ll get you all nice and put back together. Okay?”

“Sounds good,” Clint sighed.

It was yet another reminder that no matter what evil the Avengers were fighting… Mother Nature was going to do whatever the hell she wanted.

#whumptober2020 #no.27 #ok who had natural disasters on their 2020 bingo card?#extreme weather #Avengers #MCU #fic #tornado tw #clint barton #hawkeye #tony stark #Iron Man #Steve Rogers #captain america #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #bruce banner #fanfiction #whump

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faofinn · 4 years

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Ok, Who Had Natural Disasters On Their 2020 Bingo Card? - Whumptober Day 27

@whumptober2020

Christmas was, unsurprisingly, one of Finn’s favourite times of year. Alongside the food and social side of it - Fao had often managed to get leave - there was also the childish excitement of presents. The fact it was his birthday only made things better.

They often stayed at Fao’s house, the brothers going down a few days before to get things set up before their parents joined. Finn loved it, time alone with his brother was a rarity (not that he resented Jess or Ely’s presence) and having the place to themselves was just an added bonus. Despite the whole place and multiple bedrooms, Finn still ended up in Fao’s bed, often dragging his duvet in before they’d even unpacked.

It had been a cold winter, the snow already lying a few inches on the ground. Sleet and hail had battered them as they’d driven down, ominous and foreboding. Inside though, they’d soon started a fire, getting it set up and roaring as they waited for the house to warm up.

They’d had an easy night, the pair only heading to bed in the early hours of the morning. As usual, they’d snuggled together, Finn’s curled into Fao’s side and watching the flurry of snow out of the window. The wind hadn’t let up, howling as it battered the house, almost rattling the windows.

Fao fell asleep first, exhausted and more than slightly tipsy. Finn stayed awake for a little longer, letting Fao’s heartbeat softly lull him to sleep, trying to focus on that instead of the storm outside. It took a while, but eventually followed, arm draped over Fao’s chest and tucked under Fao’s duvet.

When morning broke and Fao’s alarm rang out, neither brother moved. There was an uninviting chill to the air outside of their duvets and both snuggled closer.

“Mornin’.” Fao’s voice was still rough with sleep and he cleared his throat. “Sleep well?”

Morning.” Finn echoed. “‘s cold.”

“Yeah? You’ve got all the blankets.”

Finn grinned sleepily. “Yeah.”

“You’re always cold. Spare a thought for poor old me and my ancient bones.”

“Yeah.” Finn pulled the duvets closer. “At least you admit you’re ancient.”

“Am compared to you.”

He laughed. “Nah, just ancient.”

“Sure, sure.”

"True."

“Can we stay here all day? I don’t wanna move.”

“Neither do I. I just want to stay snugged.”

“Yeah. When’s Mum coming up?”

“We’ve got a few days.”

“Don’t have to move then.”

"We have to get the house sorted. And I want to make a snowman."

“You'll freeze your balls off.”

“I’m not going to be naked.”

“You're always cold.”

"Indoor snowman?" Finn joked, pushing his hair out of his face. "Are you gonna go make breakfast?"

Fao huffed. “Whilst you stay all warm in bed?”

"Yeah. Go on." He wriggled, pulling his knees up and pressing his feet to Fao's back.

Fao yelped, but dragged himself out of bed, throwing on a hoodie. It was absolutely freezing, which had been fine under the duvet and blankets but not now he was up. He slunk off to throw something together for breakfast, using the opportunity for a smoke. He didn't make it fully outside, but he at least had the back door somewhat open. Tomas and his dad had smoked in the house, so he wasn't exactly bothered by it, but he doubted Finn would appreciate it. He made tea and started on pancakes, and called up the stairs to his brother.

“Finn! I've made tea and I'm about to cook pancakes. Get your fat arse down here!”

Oddly enough, there was no response. Usually Finn was all too eager for food, claiming he was still growing even in his early twenties. Everyone had doubted that, but when he'd suddenly shot up and grew several inches, he took them all by surprise.

Even asleep, Fao's calls would usually rouse him, especially when it promised food.

The silence really did worry him, and Fao took the pan off of the heat before he headed upstairs, fearing the worst. He hoped Finn had just fallen asleep and hadn't heard him - the house was big, after all - but there was always the other possibility.

Of course, things couldn't be simple. Finn was buried under the duvets and posturing. He wasn't breathing.

“Fuck.” Fao muttered, dragging the duvet back. “Finn?”

His younger brother groaned slightly, his muscles contracting and staying tense.

Fao rushed closer, kneeling on the bed beside him. He clearly wasn’t breathing, body tense and stuck. He swore under his breath, half English half Gaelic, and hurriedly looked for Finn’s meds. The blister pack in the bedside drawer was empty and he had no idea where Finn had put his supply.

He tried to check his phone too, and of course there was no signal. Stupid fucking countryside. Weather didn’t help either.

“Fuck’s sake Finn, you never bloody make things easy, do you?” He swore at his brother. Where were his bags? He’d probably buried his meds in there. But did he have time? It was that or nothing. He had barely any kit anyway, they were fucked without hospital. And especially fucked without midaz.

He finally found Finn’s stuff, and his meds. Thankful the packet was full, he fumbled to get the dose out. It hurt him to see Finn like this, it wasn’t fair. Nothing had set him off, nothing had changed.

His midaz didn't change anything, Finn continuing to seize despite them. Sweat collected on his brow and there was a blue tint to his lips as he forced his head back into the bed. He couldn't keep it up much longer.

Fao swore again. He'd not even shown a flicker of resolving, just as tense and slipping into cyanosis. He grabbed a second dose of midaz and gave it, though he knew he shouldn't. He had no other choice, Finn wasn't breathing anyway. What harm was it going to do? Couldn't exactly make things worse. He needed far more resources than he had. And he needed to not be in a freezing cold house in the middle of a snowstorm.

The second dose finally did something, Finn's body finally relaxing and his chest able to rise and fall. It took a moment for him to breathe, exhausted and sore. He still wasn't with it, his body barely functioning anyway, but he continued to breathe heavily, trying to resolve his hypoxia.

Finn wasn't the only one breathing heavily. Absolute relief washed over Fao as his brother took that first proper breath, and he sat there for a good few minutes with his hand on Finn's chest, feeling the rise and fall.

It occurred to him then that Finn's phone might have service. He was reluctant to move, but he could see it on the other bedside table, and scrambled up to get it. One tiny bar. It was enough, it had to be.

Hands shaking with adrenaline, he called for help. But the weather was getting worse, and he had no idea if they'd be able to get to them.

"Emergency. Which service?"

“Ambulance.”

"Ambulance. Is the patient breathing?"

Fao was back with Finn on the bed, his free hand on his chest once again. “He is now.”

"Is the patient conscious?"

“No.” Fao took a slow, deep breath, trying to fight the rising fear.

"Okay. What's your address?"

Fao gave it. “He’s had a bad seizure, wasn’t breathing for a decent amount of time. He’s had to have a double dose of midazolam just to stop it. I’m a doctor but he needs a hospital.”

“Okay, I’ve arranged an ambulance, help is on its way. He is breathing now, right? I need you to keep an eye on that and let me know if anything changes.”

“He’s breathing.”

“That’s good. Does he have seizures normally? Is he epileptic?”

“He is, but this was worse than his normal.”

“Alright, thank you. How long was this seizure?”

“I didn’t see it start. He looked like he’d been going for a while, so I gave the first midaz after a minute. It was a lot worse than normal, and the midaz didn’t make any difference at all, so I gave him another minute or so and gave the second dose.”

“So he’s had two doses of his midaz? And he would only normally have one?”

“Yeah. The two is his ‘worst-case scenario’ plan.”

"And the second dose has helped?"

“Yeah.”

“Good. Keep an eye on his breathing for me."

“I am doing.”

"That's good. You're doing really well. The ambulance is on its way, but the roads are very dangerous right now so they may take a little longer."

“Yeah, I guessed as much."

"Sorry, we are trying our best."

“No, it's okay. We're pretty rural, that weather’s shit.”

"Yeah, the service isn't too great either."

The line crackled and Fao gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I-” The phone cut out and he swore. Had the signal cut out? Pulling it back from his ear, he realised the phone had died. Fucking Finn and his inability to charge his phone. Fao nearly threw it across the room, frustrated. Now they were even more fucked. He moved to plug it in, and then the lights flickered and died.

Fucking power was out.

He went back to his brother, moved him into his lap and stroked through his hair. “I've got you, Finn. You're okay.”

Finn made a quiet noise, lip turning up in a slight smile. He liked the contact, registering somewhere deep down, and Fao was warm against his back.

“That's it, I've got you.”

He was already gone, breathing for himself but exhausted. His breathing had started to even out, though there was a tinge to his lips.

Fao let him rest. He wasn’t anywhere close to out of the woods, but he was breathing for himself and seemed to be relatively stable, despite the double dose of midaz. He leaned back against the headboard of the bed, his jaw tense. How the hell were they going to get out of this one?

Finn stretched out, screwing his face up. Everything hurt and he wasn't sure why. He fidgeted with his feet, rubbing his fluffy socks together.

There was a brief flash of panic in Fao as Finn stretched out, his back arching, before he realised it really was just a stretch. Sighing heavily, he rubbed his arm. “Hey, you’re alright.”

He fought against the heaviness, forcing his eyes open. Fao. A lazy smile graced his face as he let his eyes close again, relaxing against Fao.

“That’s it, get some rest. I’ve got you.”

Content, Finn let himself sleep again (not that he had much choice). The bed was comfy enough despite his aches, and the drugs only helped lure him under.

With the power out, the heating wasn’t working properly. The room began to chill off quickly, and Fao shivered. He knew he couldn’t leave Finn, just in case, and so had to make do with the heavy blankets on the bed. It wasn’t perfect, and in an ideal world he’d get the fire going again, but Finn was far too heavy and content in his lap.

Finn protested at the weight, trying to wriggle out and crying out as he moved. It was cold, and the weight on him was only colder. He pressed closer to his brother, his pjs damp and sticking to him.

“Hey, it’s to keep you warm, you daft shite.” Fao said good naturedly. “Give it a minute, you'll warm up.”

He didn't want it. Why didn't Fao understand? He kicked out, twisting away from it.

“Alright, alright. No blankets? Fine. I'll keep them for me.” He grumbled, draping it over his shoulders instead. “You can freeze.”

Without the attention, he quickly lost his fight, mainly forgetting what he'd been fighting against. He shuffled about a little as he struggled to find a comfortable position.

“Just try and sleep, you're okay.”

Finn slept until he woke himself shivering. His eyes flicked around the room, trying desperately to focus.

“It's okay, you're okay. Just cold, let's get you warm.” Fao murmured, draping the blanket from his shoulders over his brother. “That's better, hmm?”

He frowned, trying to push it away. He wanted Fao, not his blanket.

“It's to keep you warm, Finn.”

"No."

“Yeah, just a blanket.”

He groaned, pushing it off. Nothing was focusing or falling into place and the panic only rose.

"Off."

“You’re alright, it’s okay.” Fao reassured.

How could it be alright? His face screwed up as tears fell, clumsily raising a hand to scrub at his eyes.

“Hey, hey. You’re okay Finn, I’ve got you.”

“Cold.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a blanket here for you?”

“No. You.” Finn finally looked at Fao, frowning.

“I’m here, yeah.”

A small smile made its way to his lips. “Hug?”

“Hug and blanket, yeah?”

“You.” He murmured sleepily, trying to push himself up onto Fao.

Fao wrapped his arms around him, aware his brother was freezing cold. With no power and the weather getting worse, he had no idea how long they were going to be stuck. Finn needed a hospital, but now the phone had died who knew how long it would take for an ambulance. If they even got one at all.

#whumptober2020 #whumptober day twenty seven #ok who had natural disasters on their 2020 bingo card?#extreme weather #power outage #snow #christmas? ish #whump writing #whump prompt #no 27 #seizure #ambulance #slightly sketchy medication dosing #don't try that at home kids #midazolam #Finn Daniels #Faolan Blackwood #snowed in #brothers in more than arms

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ohanahoku-ao3 · 4 years

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Whumptober Prompt 27

A Drought in Paris. Also on AO3 here. @whumptober2020

"That's it, men. The last of our water is gone." The captain announced to the musketeers. "I suggest we all start praying for rain."

Aramis sighed, taking off his hat to scratch his head. "I've never seen a drought this bad before."

"It makes me wonder how the farmers back in my town are faring. I imagine their crops are all but ash by now in this heat," d'Artagnan said.

"We're lucky that there haven't been any fires recently. In this heat, with no water? Paris could burn to nothing before anyone could stop it." Athos mused, shaking his head.

"Well, at least we can be thankful for the crime rate going down due to this heat," Porthos said with a grin as he laid down the winning hand for their card game.

/////\\\\\

"What was that you were saying about the crime rate, Porthos?" Athos called as he sent a man crashing headfirst into a wall.

"Forget I said anything," Porthos grumbled, pushing another man down into his chair.

Once the town's water supply ran out, tension had run high in the city, people's tempers were worn thin. Those without water attacked those who still had a meagre supply, and people accused one another of being selfish and greedy.

"Now, stop this!" Athos ordered. "Fighting will only make your body thirst for water more. Those who still have water are urged to share but are not required by law to do so. If you start this again, you will be sent to prison." He warned them. "This drought cannot last forever, so be patient and remain calm. It will rain soon."

The men in the tavern settled down, tired out already with the heat and lack of water in their systems.

/////\\\\\

"Hey, d'Artagnan." Athos called from the barrel he and the others were sitting around. "Come join us for another round of cards! We've got to put Porthos back in his place."

Said man chucked. "You can try, mates. But you're going up against a master."

d'Artagnan pushed away from the wall that he'd been leaning on and made his way over to them. His face was flushed red as he reached them.

"You don't look too well, d'Artagnan." Aramis said, standing up to grab his arm as the young man's eyelids fluttered. "Come on, I think you should lie down." He told him.

"Kid doesn't look good at all," Porthos commented as Aramis guided the young landowner to the bunker.

/////\\\\\

"How is d'Artagnan?" Porthos asked.

"Not any better than the rest of us," Aramis said, starting to feel a little wane himself. His vision blurred slightly around the edges, and he swayed on his feet as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Maybe you should go lie down yourself," Athos told him, squeezing his shoulder. "Go on and get some rest."

They watched as the musketeer left to do just that.

/////\\\\\

Halfway through the next day, Porthos joined the others in the bunker after having collapsed in a dead faint while trying to break up another dispute.

That left just Athos and a few of the other musketeers that had not yet succumbed to the heat.

Athos rested on the ground, back against a pole as he watched the sunny blue sky for any sign of rain, for even a wisp of a cloud. But there was not even a hint of rain.

His breath wheezed in and out of his chest, his throat bone dry and aching for the sweet relief that only water could provide. His vision was fading in and out, and his ears were ringing faintly, The man stuck in a seemingly endless dizzy spell.

Grey seeped into his vision, and soon he had blacked out.

When he came to, it was to the blessed feeling of water droplets refreshing dry, cracked skin. He blinked his eyes open as his tongue darted out to catch the raindrops, looking up to the dark night sky as the rain poured down.

He laughed, struggling to his feet as he called out to the others.

The drought was finally over!

#whumptober2020 #no.27 #ok who had natural disasters on their 2020 bingo card?#extreme weather #the musketeers #fic #heatwave

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uuuhshiny · 4 years

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Charlie Hunnam in King Arthur: Legend of the Sword

P.10

#mine #Charlie Hunnam #King Arthur: Legend of the Sword #whumptober2020 #no.27 #OK WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTERS ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD?#sword shortcut so it's #Power Outage #;)#uuuhshiny's gifs #CH GIFS #bbelcher #chewieblog #USERTOPH #whumpedit

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someonefantastic · 4 years

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Ok, Who Had Natural Disasters on Their 2020 Bingo Card?

Forgot to cross post this yesterday whoops. Anways, we're getting so close to the end and I am both very excited and also sad to see this go. Oh well, at least we have four more days! I had such fun writing this, pining shules is such fun and I hope y'all enjoy reading this! Probably takes place between 3x13 and 3x16 Heavy T rating due to slight nudity and some innuendos but it's still SFW. Also warning for scars/past trauma (nothing too bad though) Summary: It was all Shawn's fault, that much Juliet was sure. It was his fault they were stuck in the woods in the middle of the storm and it was his fault they'd have to find a way to get warm. Unfortunately she was having a very hard time staying mad at him... it was probably the hair. also on ao3 ___ It was all Shawn’s fault.

Or at least, that’s what Juliet told herself as she trudged up the river bank. It was rainy and wet, a mixture of mud and leaves sloshed beneath her toes. Her shoes had long disappeared, swept away by the raging waters and she mourned the loss of those heels. Her clothes clung miserably to her skin doing little to protect her from the onslaught of rain pelting her. Groaning, she brushed her soaked and tangled hair out of her eyes.

Behind her was another groan as Shawn waded towards dry land. Reaching the grass she turned around, hands on her hips as she watched him peel himself from the river. If she hadn’t been pissed at him she may have admired the way his flannel clung to his skin, revealing a surprisingly toned upper body or the messy damp hair that hung just barely over his eyes. But those were memories for a different day because she was fuming.

“What the crap was that Spencer?” It was more of a demand than a question and he squinted up at her.

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed. “You’re mad at me for saving your life?”

She shook her head, scowling. “You didn’t save my life, you almost killed us!” She paused for a moment before deciding to add, “Plus I had that guy!”

Throwing out his hands he began to walk towards her, “Jules please, he was about to shoot you. It was either a bullet or the river.”

She humphed, turning away from him. “You still could have killed us.”

She heard him sigh and a hand was placed on her shoulder, “Jules, I’m sorry. I panicked and made a rash decision. I just… got…” Another sigh, “scared.”

Her anger froze as his words struck her. He was scared. She had seen a lot of emotions from him over the past few years- knew he could be kind and gentle in addition to his usual brand of eccentric- but she had never seen him scared. Truly scared, not just running away from a supposed ghost or a suspected murder. More importantly, he was scared for her. Her heart twisted, emotions that she’d felt before but never paid much mind starting to bubble to the surface.

“I forgive you, Shawn,” She started, turning around and offering up a small smile. “But next time, let me make the rash decisions. I am the one with the training after all.”

He gave a nod. “Deal.”

Thunder rolled in the distance and she found herself frowning yet again. It had been raining for three days straight- an anomaly for typically warm, sunny Santa Barbara- and it seemed like another thunderstorm was upon them. She looked around, trying to get a sense of their surroundings but she recognized nothing, the rain doing little to aid her quest.

“I think we’re lost.”

He spun in a circle, eyes darting around. “Agreed.”

She gave another heavy sigh, and shivered, her wet clothes barely defending her from the frigid air. “I guess we’ll just have to lay low for now. Hopefully, they’ll send a search and rescue team out soon or the rain will die down.” A violent shiver wracked her body. “But for now, we should find some way to get warm.”

“Aw man the one time I didn’t bring a tent to a crime scene.” He joked and she rolled her eyes.

Spotting a nearby pine tree, a small smirk broke out across her face, “We don’t need a tent.” She trekked towards the tree, ignoring his confused looks. “You don’t happen to have a knife on you do you?”

Still bewildered he reached into his pocket, producing a small swiss army knife. “Never leave home without it.”

She raised an eyebrow, admittedly a little impressed by his forward-thinking. Taking the knife from his hands- and ignoring how her fingers tingled as they brushed against his- she started breaking and cutting down pine branches. Shawn soon jumped in, following her lead as they gathered the material. Once they got enough, she then began leaning them against the trunk of the tree, forming a tent-like structure.

When they finished, she stepped back, hands on her hips to admire their work.

“Wow,” Shawn spoke up from beside her, “That’s amazing that you know how to do this.”

She shrugged, “I was a girl scout.”

“Doesn’t change what I said.”

She turned her head, ready to thank him but her eyes went wide as she noticed him shaking violently. Glancing down at her own hands, her worry tripled as she watched them tremble.

“We need to get warm.” He said, staring at her with concern and she wondered if she looked as cold as he did.

She nodded and beckoned him into their makeshift shelter. It was a tight fit, the design leaving them with little wiggle room. She wound up face to face with him, their chests pressed together and their noses inches from colliding. A shiver ran down her spine- though not from the cold- rather it was from his warm breath ghosting over her skin. It smelled like pineapples and mint and it took every bone in her body to keep her from leaning forward and tasting him herself.

The air hung tense around them and she had to duck her head, attempting to break the hold he seemed to have over her. This had been a very bad idea. Why on earth did she think that being near Shawn would be a good idea? She was trying to avoid these feelings for pete’s sake. They had been dancing around each other more and more as of late. She was attracted to him for sure, a realization that had hit her after football pants and charming smiles and coming to terms with the fact that she didn’t hate flirting with him. But she couldn’t act upon it. She wasn’t ready, he wasn’t ready, it wasn’t their moment.

He shivered against her, snapping her out of her thoughts as she examined how his face had gone unusually pale. Her own body was freezing, a permanent chill that seemed ingrained in her bones. This wasn’t working. They needed to get warm faster. If one or both of them got hypothermia, it would cause their bad situation to get even worse.

She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing what she had to do but hating that she had to do it. With a sigh, she opened them, biting her lip. “Shawn… we need to get warmer.”

He cocked an eyebrow, a smirk breaking out over his face. “Detective O’Hara, are you asking to cuddle with me?”

She shook her head, beginning to shimmy out of their shelter. His face dropped and he sat up slightly, looking at her through the opening. “Jules, I was joking, I didn’t mean to make you leave.”

Rolling her eyes, she sat back on her haunches, pulling off her suit coat. “Yes, Shawn we can cuddle.” Her tone was exasperated but she couldn't help but inwardly smile as his eyes lit up. “But-” She held up a finger, effectively silencing whatever flirty remark he had, “we need to do something else first.”

“What-” The question died in the air, his eyes going wide as she began to unbutton her blouse. “Jules…”

Heat began to crawl up her neck and into her cheeks as she watched him stare dumbfounded. She took a deep breath, attempting to quiet her nerves. “Skin to skin contact is the fastest way to get warm. Plus with our wet clothes, we’re just waiting for hypothermia to set in.” That was good, that was logical and she couldn’t argue with logic.

Unfortunately, he could. A sly grin spread across his face as he got out of the shelter. “Just admit you want to see me naked.”

She shot him a glare which promptly lost its effect as she shed her shirt, his eyes lingering on her newly exposed skin. “Not naked. We’re keeping our undergarments on. This is purely professional.”

“Understood.” He nodded, pulling off his flannel. “Just two co-workers cuddling half-naked in the woods... super professional.”

Sighing, she cocked her head to shoot him another look but froze at the sight of his bare chest. His baggy shirts really did not do him justice. He was surprisingly toned, fit in all the right places but not overly muscled. Running from bad guys sure had its perks. He had filled out nicely, no longer the skinny lanky guy that she had first met- she didn’t mind Shawn then but now… he could get her hot under the collar with just one look. His arms looked particularly nice and she wondered what it’d be like to be held by him.

Closing her eyes, she shook her head, trying to rid the hundreds of nonprofessional thoughts that were racing through her mind. Now was not the time to be imagining the guy you had to cuddle with for warmth in some not exactly appropriate situations. When she opened them again, he was staring at her curiously, clad in just boxers and she suddenly couldn't remember how to speak.

“Jules please, I know it’s a lot to take in but try to control yourself.” He was joking of course but it did little to stop a blush from forming across her cheeks.

She removed her pants quickly, not giving herself any more time to think before getting back into the shelter. He crawled in behind her- taking some time first to pull some extra branches over the opening and situate their clothes at the entrance- and lay down in his previous spot. They weren’t as close as before but it was close enough and she felt her face heat up again. He was very attractive from afar but now… up close… she almost forgot how to breathe.

The two lay in almost silence, wind swirling around outside of their shelter and an awkward tension hanging over them. He was staring intensely at a spot above her and she couldn’t help herself from taking advantage of the opportunity to look over his body. He really was toned, and smooth, and she wondered what it’d feel like to run her hands down his chest.

Closing her eyes, she tried to ward off any more unprofessional thoughts with little avail. When she opened them again, her attention was caught by a faint scar in the middle of his rip case. It was long and thick and faded yet still there and she knew it was from heart surgery. She wanted to ask him about it, wanted to know his secrets and dive into his past but she also knew now wasn’t the time.

Her brain instead switched to her own scars and her stretch marks- bullet and knife wounds, cuts and scrapes from broken bones or on the job injuries- and she shifted uncomfortably, arms moving to cross her chest, suddenly self-conscious. She wanted him to think the best of her but it was hard when her body was so broken and worn.

“I’m sorry Jules.” His voice snapped her attention back to his face, eyebrow cocking at his expression. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Her eyes widened and she realized that he noticed her shift in mood, though he drew the wrong conclusion. She shook her head, “If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. This was my idea after all.” Biting her lip, she avoided his eyes. “Besides... I’m not uncomfortable because of you.”

He made a little sound of curiosity but didn’t say anything else, clearly waiting for her to continue and she sighed hating having to be vulnerable before him. “I’m just… maybe… a little…” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, “self-conscious.”

His eyes widened, “Jules...”

“I know, I know, it’s stupid.” She was quick to backtrack. “I see these scars and marks and I just think I’m broken and I know it’s not true but that’s just how I feel.”

Eyebrows creasing, he adamantly shook his head. “It’s not stupid at all. I know feelings suck sometimes…” She looked down again and he sighed. “Look Jules, I have a giant scar on my chest.” He gestured to the area, making her cheeks tinge pink. “It’s the part of me that I like the least but so far in my life barely anyone’s thought I look ugly with it and if they did, then it was their loss. It’s part of who I am no matter how much I dislike it and it tells a story. I’m sure your scars do the same so you don’t have anything to worry about.” She offered him a small smile.

“Besides, I think you’re… I mean you’re… well-” He bit his lip and hope rose in her chest, curious to what he’d have to say- curious if this was their moment after all. “You,” He finished and the moment ended.

She was quick to recuperate from her disappointment, shaking it off and smiling at him. “Thanks, Shawn.” The smile turned playful. “And if it makes you feel any better, I think you’re not too bad yourself.”

In a flash his signature smirk was back, eyes dancing. “It’s the hair, right? Girls dig the hair.”

She laughed, “Sure. It’s totally the hair.”

Chuckling, he grabbed her hips, pulling her closer. Suddenly, she found that it was very hard to breathe. Her body was pressed flush against his, noses inches away from touching. She was so close she could see the splatter of freckles over his nose, flecks of brown in his eyes, the stubble that lined his chin.

“Sorry,” He muttered but his eyes showed no sign of regret.

“You need to stop apologizing.” Her voice was low and husky and frankly, she wasn’t sure how she was able to speak.

His eyes flickered from her’s to her lips. “Noted.”

She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Would it be slow and soft, their lips caressing in a gentle dance? Or would it be hard and fast, as if they never wanted to breathe again? Her stomach clenched, heart beating so hard that she thought he might feel it through her skin. She wanted so badly to kiss him, to run her fingers through his hair or down his cheek, feeling his stubble scratch against her palm. To pepper little kisses across his scar and see that Shawn Spencer that he didn’t dare show to the world.

But she couldn't kiss him. Not today.

Today they were just two co-workers, lost in the woods during a thunderstorm. They weren’t dating, she wasn’t his girlfriend, they were just friends. Friends who had to snuggle half-naked for warmth but friends nevertheless.

“Shawn…?” She asked, breathlessly.

His voice was barely a whisper, “Yeah?”

She swallowed heavily, trying hard to get the words out. “I guess we should get to the snuggling part.”

“Well...” He shrugged goofy grin back on his face. “If you insist.”

They shifted as best they could inside the small shelter, maneuvering so that one of his arms was under her- just above her shoulders- and the other was wrapped around her upper back as he held her tight. Her arm hooked around his neck, the other going to his lower back. They were even closer than before- something she didn’t think was possible. She could feel the heat from his body spread through her own and she wondered what it’d be like to get to sleep next to him every night.

Their gazes were fixed on each other, an unspoken tension between them. She was transfixed by his eyes, captivated in a way that she never wanted to be free from. The line between friends and more than that was there, so evident and begging to be crossed with one simple kiss. She could do it, she could kiss him and change their lives but a clap of thunder caused her to jump a little, effectively destroying her resolve.

Now just wasn’t the time. Instead, she ducked her head, resting it against his chest as he tucked her under his chin. His breathing was steady, peaceful, and combined with the rain and the warmth in her chest, she found herself growing tired.

“Good night Jules,” He whispered and she wanted to reply back but the next thing she knew she was fast asleep.

When she woke, she'd have a world of problems and emotions to sort through but for now, she was perfectly sleeping next to Shawn. It turned out, being held by him was so much better than anything she could dream of.

#whumptober2020 #no. 27 #ok who had natural disasters on their 2020 bingo card?#extreme weather #psych #shules #shawn spencer #juliet o'hara #fanfic #nudity tw #innuendo tw #scars tw #past trauma tw #pining #skipps writes #psych fanfic

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kaesaaurelia · 4 years

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hellquake

For @whumptober2020 day 27: OK, Who Had Natural Disasters On Their 2020 Bingo Card? (specifically "earthquake" and "power outage," kind of.)

Continues on from day four, wherein Aziraphale met up with a distraught coworker, waited for Crawly at the base of the Tower of Babel, and then it fell on him, day five, wherein Aziraphale did his best to help the citizens of Babylon, and was caught by demons for his trouble, day eight, wherein Aziraphale found brief and unexpected camaraderie among the prisoners of Hell, day eleven, wherein Hell tried to make a deal with Aziraphale, day twelve, wherein Crawly finally stops by, and doesn’t help, day fourteen, wherein Hell subjects Aziraphale to a very unpleasant experience, which is admittedly kind of Hell’s brand, and day twenty-four, wherein all the lights go out and someone (who could it possibly be???) springs Aziraphale and guides him through the tunnels of Hell.

Aziraphale/f!Crawly. Content warning for structural collapse and being buried alive briefly.

As Aziraphale and his mysterious... savior? Secondary kidnapper? Well, whoever they were, as the two of them hurried through the pitch black tunnels of Hell, tripping over each other and little stones in the corridors, Aziraphale felt something wrong. He'd been spiritually uncomfortable the whole time he was in Hell; the whole place was hostile to him, and he could feel it. It was like something was pacing just outside his physical body, waiting to seep inside him and claw him apart if he didn't pay attention. But this was different. This was... The hairs on his body all stood on end before he perceived the rumbling from behind them.

His guide broke into a run as the ground began to shake, first mildly, and then violently. Stones rained on their heads and Aziraphale's miracles were barely adequate to keep the bigger stones from shattering any of his bones as they fell to the ground. Hopefully whichever demon had taken pity on him was able to deal with the problem sufficiently themselves. Was it Crawly? Aziraphale hoped so, but he didn't dare say her name out loud, in case it got her into trouble.

(Not that he wasn't still cross with her, of course. He was very cross, and that was why he wanted to see her.)

The earthquake -- hellquake? -- became more and more severe, and Aziraphale's guide lost their grip on his wrist, but Aziraphale grabbed their arm himself -- whoever this was, whether they were saving him or using him to scheme, they probably didn't deserve to be crushed by a collapsing tunnel in Hell, and he clung to them as the whole tunnel collapsed around them.

Aziraphale stilled, because it was taking all his strength, miraculous and otherwise, to keep the crushing weight of the dirt and stone above him from crushing them both. His companion had gone still too.

With difficulty, Aziraphale made it so that some stable slabs of stone were by coincidence managing to hold up the worst of the collapse and they were only really buried in gravel and dirt. Retroactive miracles like that were hard, and he didn't really have the energy for more than one, so he'd hoped his companion might be awake to help, but easing one hand around their waist, they stayed still.

"They" was perhaps superfluous now; Aziraphale was pretty sure this was Crawly. Not that he had paid any mind to her physical form, of course. He tried not to think about that as, hanging onto her with one arm, he did an awkward sort of sidestroke through the sand and dirt and gravel around them, swimming them out of the collapsed section of the tunnel until they fell into a clear portion of tunnel.

And -- Aziraphale had to blink several times to be certain it was real -- there was light coming from somewhere above, somewhere very far away. As his eyes remembered how to see again, a long, long staircase coalesced in front of him, ending in a pinprick of maybe-sky somewhere very far above them. He turned the body of his companion face-up and found that it was Crawly, dusty and unhappy-looking and so horribly still that Aziraphale was certain she'd be headed to the recorporation line sooner or later.

He wiped some of the dust out of her face, because it seemed undignified to leave the body like this, even if it wasn't occupied anymore, and recoiled as Crawly began to cough.

She opened her eyes -- they were luminous in the dark -- and Aziraphale helped her sit up. "Angel," she said, looking very relieved. And then, after a moment, she looked so terribly worried. "Angel, I'm --" A coughing fit interrupted her. "I'm ssorry, I didn't -- it wassn't -- you have to believe --" She began coughing again, but her meaning seemed clear enough to him.

"Perhaps you shouldn't speak for a bit," said Aziraphale, helping her to her feet. "We've got a lot of stairs, it looks like; you'll want to save your breath.”

[next part]

#whumptober2020 #no.27 #ok who had natural disasters on their 2020 bingo card?#earthquake #power outage #good omens #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #ineffable husbands #fiction #buried alive #structural collapse #text #kaesa op

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