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#no.20
jasmines-library · 5 months
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Lost and found.
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WHUMPTOBER DAY 20. Prompt: “You will regret touching them.” Fandom: Batfam
Summary: After falling into a trap, you are captured by Scarecrow and exposed to his fear toxin. When your older brothers arrive to help you, your fear gets the better of you.
Warnings: Fear, disappointment, beating, hurt.
Word count: 2K
MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS
🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸
You hadn’t been living with Bruce that long. A few years. If that. You were the baby of the family, younger than Damian and in some ways you supposed he resented you for it; always narrowing his eyes at you when passing him the hallway. You often felt estranged from the rest of the boys, never fully understanding their inside jokes or nightly routines. You never felt as though you belonged despite the fact that the older boys had tried to make you feel welcome. 
The one person you had managed to connect with was Alfred. When your time wasn’t occupied by training or patrol it was often spent curled up in the study with a book and excitedly explaining it to him. Reading was one of your passions; it allowed you to escape the harsh realities of the cruel world and alfred was glad to hear you rant, it often resulted in him mirroring the smile on your face. 
It was a late autumn night when the call came in. You were lounging on the window seat watching the rain batter against the glass. Your brothers were out on patrol and you were the only one left home, so you floated over to the phone, answering it and bringing it to your ear. 
“Hello?”
There was static on the other end of the line, followed by a shuffling. And then came the voice of a child. “Please… please help me.”
You began to pull on your suit, listening closely to the girl speaking over the phone. 
“My friend she-”
“Calm down.” you told her. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”
She rattled off her location through sobs. “Please hurry.”
“It’s gonna be okay.” You reassured her. 
Once you had calmed the girl, you slipped out of the exit of the batcave and began to race through town. It was a quiet night. The rain had pushed many people inside, so the lack of people on the streets really threw you off, but you decided to warn your brothers where you were going, just in case. 
“Nightwing?” You asked over the comms, hoping that he wasn’t too occupied to answer. 
“Raven?” He wrinkled his nose. “What are you doing out?”
“A call came in. A young girl said her friend was cornered by a group of armed criminals. I’ve got it handled, but I thought I'd give you a heads up.”
“Copy that Raven.” 
The line went silent again as you continued to push your way into the city until you reached the location that the scared girl gave you over the line. Only, there was no one in sight. You called out into the darkness but there was no reply. And then, there was a sharp prick to the side of your neck. 
~
When you awoke, your hands and hands were bound together by old rope that scratched at your skin. The floor was dank and dusty and your mask had been torn from your face. You could feel a small nic along your eyebrow, and your entire body ached. 
Without full use of your hands, you struggled to sit up when you noticed the figure leaning against the wall across the room. Tall and masked with a straw hat, he loomed over you, observing you from afar. You used your legs to inch yourself away from the humanoid figure, but he outpaced you, squatting down in front of you and trailing a gloved hand along your jaw.
“Hiya little birdie.”
“Get off of me.” You spat.
Scarecrow tutted, but removed his hand. “I’m glad to see you. You see, I've been watching you for some time. I’ve seen how miserable  you’ve been. And I've been waiting for a chance to get you alone. I have to say though, it was much easier than I anticipated.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
The villain chided. “Mm, I have something more fun in mind. You see, I've been experimenting with something new. Well, new and improved. You see, my old fear toxin, it was good but you couldn’t really feel. If you know what I mean? So I did some experimenting and I've finally created something I've just been dying to test out. So I figured, why not have some fun while I'm at it?”
“They’re coming for me.” You told him with narrowed eyes. “And you’re gonna be a dead man?”
He tilted his head, resting his hand on the door before he stepped out and shut it completely. “Are they?”
He bolted the door shut, leaving you in the dimly lit room where a thick, green smog began to billow through the vents. You tried to back away from the smoke, but it surrounded you, cascading down all four walls. You took a deep breath, taking in all of the air you could, but it didn’t last long, eventually you couldn’t stand the burning in your lungs and you were forced to inhale the substance, choking as it filled your lungs. 
When the green began to fade away, vanishing into the air, you were left alone in the silence. Though it wasn’t long before the door was broken down by heavy pounding, and the masked face of your brother burst through the door. 
“Y/N”
You breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Jason. Oh thank god, I thought you weren’t going to come. He told me that you none of you would and I-”
“Shut up.”
You stilled. “What?”
“I said shut up!” He kicked you hard to the ribs eliciting a yelp from you. 
“Jason…?”
“God, are you as stupid as you look? Shut it.” Jason kicked you harder, each one growing in intensity and followed by a snarky remark. You tucked your head to your chest, pressing your hands tightly to your ears until eventually, Jason vanished into a cloud of green and you were plunged back into emptiness. 
“Oh god… Y/N.”
It was Tim’s voice, shaky as he raced towards you. His hands gripped your arms as he forced them away from your ears. You half glanced up at him, doing a double take when you saw the look set upon his face. It was tender, but laced with worry. You wanted to reach out into his arms, but you were hesitant. 
“Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” He bent down and removed the frayed rope from your wrists, you rubbed them. Tim then swung his arm around your shoulder to help you up, but you only made it a few steps towards the door when he flung you over his shoulder, sending you plummeting to the floor with a sickening crack as your skull collided with the ground. Your head throbbed as blood dripped from the crack that had opened in the back of your head. 
“Silly girl.” Tim laughed. “You really think we care enough to come and help you? After you were foolish enough to fall for his trap? You always mess things up Y/N. You’re a burden. Nothing more. Bruce’ll be glad to finally be rid of you.”
“Tim, Please-"
He reeled his fist back to land the final blow. You scrambled backwards, raising your arm above your face to protect yourself, but no pain came. And Time was gone. 
Fat, hot tears were rolling down your cheeks by the time that Damian entered the room. He narrowed his eyes at you like he normally did. They were so full of hate. You closed your eyes, biting down on your trembling lip and sinking against the wall. 
“Get up.” He demanded, voice thick with venom. 
You squeezed your eyes shut even tighter. 
“Damian… please don’t. I don’t need to hear how-”
“I hate you.”
It was only three words, but they cut right through you like a bullet. 
“I hate you.” He gritted out. “You ruined everything. We were fine without you. We were happy. And then you came along and you- you took all of that away. You’re a disappointment. And I hate you.”
Damian didn’t move to hurt you, but you supposed in some ways that's what hurt the most. Not the pain and the beating, no. That’s not what you were scared of. It was disappointing your family. You grimaced as Damian left, waiting for the cycle to start again.  
~~~ 
Damian didn’t think he had ever ran faster in his life. His boots slapped against the concrete as he raced alongside his older brothers. He had never been more scared than at the lack of your voice over the comms. The four of them had been trying you for hours but had had no such luck. That was until Alfred managed to snag your location on the computer. And so the four of them ran. 
Dick’s heart thundered against his ribs. He feared what Scarecrow had done to you. He had heard the stories; witnessed the horrors. But he couldn’t bear to fathom what your mind would conjure up. You had seen too much. 
When he pushed his way into the warehouse, it was dark. And silent. The four of them kept their eyes peeled for a sign of anything, but there was no sign of you or Scarecrow. That was until Damian spotted the frame of the door poking out from behind a metal cabinet. It took two of them to haul the heavy piece of furniture away. It squealed awfully as it scraped across the floor. When they pushed the door open they had to squint to see you hidden in the corner of the room. Your eyes were wide and you were hyperventilating at the sight of them.
“Y/N?”
“No, no…” You shook your head, trying to back further into the wall when he took a step towards you. 
Jason tried too, but it only worked you up more. 
“Not all of you…please. Please…”
Jason knelt down beside you, reaching to touch you gently, but you flinched away.
“It’s not going to work.” A voice laughed out from the doorway. 
The brother’s whipped round to face the scarecrow. 
“What have you done to her?” Tim spat. 
He chuckled deeply. “She’s been exposed to my new fear toxin. See, I don’t know what she’s  been seeing but whatever it is, you guys are clearly an important part of it.”
Tim gritted his teeth. “You are going to regret touching her.”
They surged forwards, pinning him towards the wall. He fought back, but was no match for the anger-fueled vigilantes. When he slumped to the ground, they were tasked with the even more challenging job of getting you out. But when they moved towards you, tears rolled fatly down your face as you sobbed. 
“Please…” You shook. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t hurt me please.”
Damian froze. “What?  
“You’ve done enough…please.” 
You flinched as the youngest of your brothers laid a hand on your shoulder. 
“Y/N? It’s us. We’re real, I promise.”
You shook your head. “...no”
“We’re not gonna hurt you, kid.”
“You already have…”
Their hearts stopped simultaneously and Dick swallowed thickly. 
“I’m sorry Y/N.”
Everything went black as his fist collided with your head.
~~~
You sat up abruptly. You were back in the safety of your own room, tucked away in your bed. Although you were more aware of what had happened, you couldn’t shake the fear that rolled over you. But you weren’t alone when you woke up. You were surrounded by a sea of familiar faces.
“Y/N?” Dick asked when he noticed your eyes were open.
“Yeah.” You murmured groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
“Are you okay?”
You just shrugged meekly.
“Oh y/n/n we were so worried.” Damian said. His tenderness was foreign. 
“What did you see?” Dick asked hesitantly. 
“All of you. Disappointed in me.”
“Oh kid.” Tim looked at you with sad eyes. “We would never be disappointed in you. We love you so, so much. And we couldn’t be prouder of you.”
“But I fell for his trap. I-”
“Uh Uh. You did what you thought was right. How were you supposed to know?”
Again, you just shrugged. 
“We’re proud of you, little wing. So proud.”
🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸
<- DAY 19 ⛤ DAY 21 ->
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cyberwhumper · 5 months
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The fevered mess curls tighter around itself every time the doctors step into its cell. Its eyes never leave them, tracking each and every movement with the attention of a predator despite its body being ravaged by the fever. What an indignity to the once powerful animal, now reduced to a shivering, whimpering piece of meat.
They pull the blanket off and Horus whines as they manhandle it, weakly attempting to resist but easily subdued. The shots come soon after. Every prick of the needle feels like they're injecting molten metal straight into its veins, provoking the usual struggle and bite response in reflex. They draw blood and take its temperature, then release it. If it pulls off the feeding tube, they reinsert it. Periodically, the process is repeated again and again.
Horus is so exhausted that the only thing it ever seems to do is pull the thin sheet back over itself once they leave, the only item that brings it any comfort in the empty, cold cell. Hours turned into long and agonizing days, so painful it refused to move or eat. Sometimes it's so confused and delirious it can't understand what they're saying at all, and it cries and howls desperately late into the night as if begging for help. For someone, anyone, to come save it and make the pain go away. For any comfort, any human interaction, anything at all.
And once the morning comes, they take its temperature again, and the process starts anew.
Tag list: @whumpsday // @demondamage // @squidlife-crisis // @whumpedydump // @cyborg0109 // @whumpfish // @astrowhump // @the-scrapegoat // @whatwhumpcomments // @dustbunnywhump //
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lost-shoe · 1 year
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Supernatural - Baby (11.04)
Whumptober 2022
No. 20 IT’S BEEN A LONG DAY
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whump-side · 5 months
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Whumptober 2023 No. 20: “People don’t change people, time does.” Blanket | Found Family | “You will regret touching them.”
Two mimirs...
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celtic-crossbow · 6 months
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Whumptober 2023
No. 14 Water inhalation | No. 20 Blanket | No. 23 Shaking
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (platonic to relationship)
Setting: Alexandria (pre-commonwealth)
Warnings: Injuries/Illness (temperature induced), CPR, Smut
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One minute, he was there. The next, he was gone. 
You and Daryl had been traipsing through the snow for hours. The storm was supposed to be days away, so when Eugene had evidence of a large storage facility up the mountain that could contain food and weapons for the remaining communities, of course Daryl volunteered to check it out. Which meant you were going by default. 
Everything had been going well before the snow started to fall. Daryl had been nonplussed about it and refused to turn back. You had already been hiking for two days. When the white blanket was up to your shins, you could see the lines of worry etched on his face but he said nothing other than you were closer to the facility than to Hilltop. The two of you could take shelter there and wait it out. 
That had been a few hours ago. Now, walkers were reaching out of the snow, tripping you up and snapping at your ankles. Some were beginning to freeze but still moving, albeit slowly. Your knife sank into another skull, the hold on your foot falling away. Daryl had trudged ahead to take care of the lone corpse still on its feet. The wind was too hard for his crossbow to be accurate. You couldn’t afford to waste the bolts. 
You kicked the rotted hand away from your foot and looked up ahead of you, squinting to see through the near whiteout. “Daryl?” There was no sign of him or the walker. “Daryl!” You called a bit louder, knowing he probably couldn’t hear you over the howling gusts. ‘Where the hell did he go?’ A tendril of worry began to take root in your gut as you dragged your heavy legs toward where you had seen him heading. There was something on the ground and you wondered if he had dropped the walker and moved ahead to scout. 
As you drew nearer, your heart stopped. What you were seeing was a hole in the snow…and Daryl’s crossbow teetering on the edge. 
“No. No, no, no!” You began peeling off your pack and your weapons, dropping to your knees at the edge of the ice with caution. It hadn’t held Daryl’s weight when combined with that of a walker. Your gloved fingers collected his weapon and tossed it back toward where you left your own. “Daryl!” The water was black, unmoving. It felt like the mountain herself was telling you she had claimed your best friend, leaving you to stare into the void that had taken him from you. 
The mountain didn’t seem to know you at all. 
You grabbed the flashlight from the side pocket of your pack, holding it in your mouth while you stripped out of your jacket, gloves, and hat. Not giving yourself enough time to think twice, you dove in. The water was a shock to your system, so cold that it burned and you felt like your eyes would freeze in their sockets. But you couldn’t dwell, you couldn’t stop. The clock was ticking for you both. 
You spotted the walker first. Daryl’s knife was still in its skull as it sank lower than the beam of your flashlight could reach. You spun in the water, feeling the fatigue and cold seep into your muscles. You couldn’t stay much longer and the knowledge made your chest hurt. 
He wasn’t moving when you spotted him, sinking slowly just as the walker had been. Like a corpse. By the time you reached him, you weren’t sure you could still get you both out of the water. But that would never stop you from trying. You hooked an arm around his chest and began the ascent when you realized you couldn’t see the opening you had dove into! 
Panic gripped you when your hand met ice. We’re both going to die down here. Thankfully, luck seemed to be on your side for this part at the very least. Just a few feet further, your hand pushed out of the water and into frigid air. You wasted no time in breaching the surface, Daryl’s name on your lips before you could even drag in your first breath. His wet hair was plastered to his face, but there was no time to assess him now. You needed to get you both out. 
Getting the archer far enough out of the water to keep him from sliding back in while you climbed out yourself almost took what energy you had left. Somehow, you managed. Fear of the ice not holding the two of you was tingling at the edge of your thoughts but your number one priority laid unmoving beside you. 
“Daryl?” You said his name with urgency, brushing away his hair to find his skin the palest you’ve ever seen, lips so blue that they appeared to be purple. “Fuck!” You weren’t that knowledgeable in CPR but you knew the basics and just had to pray it would be enough. 
Tilting his head back, you pinched his nose and placed your mouth over his, forcing five rescue breaths into his frozen, starving lungs. Compressions came next, difficult to do adequately when you were shivering so hard that you thought your bones may rattle apart below your skin. 
You couldn’t lose Daryl. You had figured that out long ago, back on the Greene farm. Something about his rough and jagged edges pulled you closer to him, not something he had been happy about, mind you. But as the months passed, you watched him soften. Not just toward you, but in general. He was your person, whether or not he ever returned those feelings. You wanted nothing but to see him happy, even if it wasn’t with you. Whatever it took to keep him in your life. 
That same sentiment applied now. 
“Come on, b-b-breathe for m-me!” Two more breaths and then back to compressions. You felt tears sting your eyes, knowing they would freeze on your face if they fell. “Please, Daryl.” Just as you pinched his nose and leaned in for the next breath, his back arched weakly and water gurgled within his throat. 
You were quick to roll him to his side, not sure where you summoned the strength when you felt so incredibly tapped out. When water gushed out of his mouth and allowed for a series of gasping coughs, you let your head fall against his bicep, your free hand rubbing and patting his back. 
“That’s it. That’s g-g-good. Just k-keep breathing.” You sat there for a few moments, both of you shaking hard enough to disturb the snow around you. You weren’t sure what to do next. You knew that removing your clothes had to wait since the layer of water in them would help insulate your bodies for at least a few minutes. You needed shelter. And fast. Or when they sent a team up the mountain, it would be to find you and Daryl and put you down instead of gathering supplies. “W-W-We’ve gotta m-move. Are y-y-you with me?”
“Mmmmm’h-h-h-here.”
You allowed yourself only a second to give thanks to whatever deity might exist that you were able to hear his voice. That you were able to bring him back to life. Now, you needed to keep him alive. God, you needed to keep both of you alive. You slipped on your jacket, hat, and gloves and grabbed everything, including the extra weight of his crossbow. 
“W-W-We have to g-get out of the w-weather. B-B-Build a fire.” He didn’t answer but you didn’t have time to grow concerned. He rolled deeper onto his side to get his hands underneath himself and began to push himself up. You knew there was no way he could manage without you, so you didn’t even let him try. Every moment was a moment closer to death. 
You slipped your hands under each of his arms and helped haul him upright. The archer swayed on his feet before curling inward with a miserable noise you could barely hear. With your small arms around him, you began trekking through the snow with careful steps. There was no way of knowing if you were on solid ground. 
By your calculations, it had been about 45 minutes since Daryl had first fallen into the water. You knew nothing about hypothermia, but his skin was still dastardly pale, his lips alarmingly blue. He was shivering more violently than you and had begun to stumble more than he walked. Without the knowledge of proper care, you had no choice but to go by what you had seen in movies. 
Shelter was first. You needed to get him out of the elements. He wasn’t much help in navigating, walking whichever way you steered him. If you didn’t find something soon, you yourself would start to deteriorate and you’d both be doomed. 
“Y-Y-You awake over there? Got m-m-me hauling y-y-your heavy ass all b-by myself here!” You sighed in relief when you felt him shift to take some of his own weight. Daryl was a fighter, always had been, even before the turn. “Oh, h-h-hey there! I thought you may have been p-p-pussin’ out on m-m-me!”
“F-f-f-fuck y-y-y-you.” 
“S-such a ch-ch-charmer, D-D-Dixon!” You goaded, squeezing him as tightly as you could. 
You struggled another ten minutes or so before spotting the silhouette of a building. While the thought of being out of the frigid wind was nearly euphoric, there was still the matter of clearing it; making sure it was safe. Daryl was barely on his feet. A walker would kill him before the cold would. You had no choice but to leave him outside. 
You directed him into a grove of trees at the corner of the building, trying to find a place where he could be shielded from the merciless gusts. Once you lowered him next to a tree, you took your first good look at this face. His hair was nearly frozen, even his goatee and there appeared to be some ice or snow in his eyelashes. His teeth chattered behind bloodless lips, eyelids drooping. Jesus, he was knocking on death’s door. 
“G-G-Gonna ch-check the b-building. S-S-Stay put and D-D-Daryl?” Your fingers were stiff and tingling under your gloves when you grabbed his chin, shaking his head gently to persuade his eyes to focus on you. “S-S-Stay aw-wake.” His shoulders jerked in what you assumed was a grunt. With a tight smile, you placed his crossbow beside him and patted his knee before heading inside. 
On the bright side, you had found the storage facility. There was no time to check it for supplies now, though. You turned the knob on the office door, finding it mercifully unlocked, and then pushed it inward. Without entering, you tapped the blade of your knife heavily against the metal frame and waited. 
When the noise drew no walkers out of the shadows, you entered, your flashlight beam sputtering. You probably fucked it up in the water. Oh well. The office was small. An old desk, a small bathroom, and a filing cabinet with some boxes stacked in the corner. You could use the boxes to start a small fire and crack the window to help keep the area ventilated. A fire indoors without an actual fireplace was never ideal but you and Daryl need the warmth or the outcome would be much worse than some smoke inhalation. 
Satisfied, you dragged your shivering, aching body back outside, pulling the door closed so a walker wouldn’t wander in while you grabbed the archer. He was right where you had left him but your pulse quickened at finding him slumped forward and unmoving. 
“D-D-Daryl!” You fell to your knees beside him, foregoing the flashlight so you could grab his shoulders and shake him somewhat roughly. There was no way you could feel for a pulse. You were almost completely numb. Luckily, the condensation of each breath was visible. “W-wake up!” You shook him again and when his blue eyes peeled open to slowly blink at you, you could have cried. “C-C-Come on.” He didn’t argue when you grabbed beneath his arms and pulled. He had almost no strength to help but enough to get him on his feet. The first thing you noticed was his lack of shivering. You weren’t sure why but that didn’t seem like a good sign when you yourself were about to shake right out of your skin. 
You grabbed the strap of his crossbow and slung it over your shoulder before starting toward the building. The journey wasn’t far, you stuttering praise and reassurance that you weren’t even sure he could hear. When you finally made it inside, you were able to move with more urgency. You lowered Daryl to sit against the desk. You dumped out one of the drawers of the file cabinet and placed it on the floor, tearing up papers and boxes. It wouldn’t be the most glorious fire and you’d have to almost continuously feed it to keep it going, but it would be warm. 
You fished for the matches in your pack, knowing the water probably fucked up Daryl’s lighter. It was hard to find them in only the dying beam of your flashlight but you did nonetheless. It took a few tries to get the flame to catch but finally it started to burn. You reached above it and cracked the window open before adding more cardboard from the boxes. It would burn a little longer than the papers. 
Your attention was then on Daryl. You pulled the blankets from your packs. They weren't very thick but they were dry. You spread the first on the floor and tossed the other at the bottom of it. Like you, his clothes were nearly frozen, crackling when you touched them. “Hey.” You said quietly, touching his freezing cheek. He didn’t respond. And he still wasn’t shivering. Your breathing became irregular and you could swear your frozen body began to heat up when you thought of what was coming next. 
“Fuck.” You muttered. It felt wrong to not have his permission to remove his clothing, but it was a matter of life and death. You would just have to ask for forgiveness later. The archer was completely lax, making stripping him down quite the task. Your own body seemed to be starting to shut down by the time you dragged him over to the blanket and rolled him onto it. Closing your eyes for the sake of his modesty, you grabbed the waistband of his boxer-briefs and tugged them down his legs. With quick movements, you tossed the second blanket over him. 
As an afterthought, you pushed the desk from the corner to both barricade the door and to hang the wet clothing across so it could all dry. Removing your own clothes was about the last thing you could handle, staggering as you draped them across the desk with Daryl’s before you found yourself staring down at the covered archer. His color was no better and from where you stood, you could hardly tell if he was breathing. 
“I’m sorry.” You whispered, pulling the blanket up just enough to slide under it with him. According to the movies, you needed to lie together to warm one another. Not just together but together. With a deep breath, you grabbed his shoulder and rolled him toward you, cradling his head just below your chin. Even with your own chilled skin, you found him to be absolutely freezing. You positioned one leg between his and the other over his hip, trying very hard to ignore certain parts that were touching. With a twist of your upper body, you were able to grab your pack to use as a pillow and then started to rub your hand up and down his arm. “Come on. You’re Daryl fucking Dixon. You kill zombies and ride a motorcycle. I refuse to tell people that some snow and ice took you down.”
The room gradually warmed and you thought just maybe you felt some warmth returning to Daryl’s body. Your own shivering was becoming less and less jarring. Your hand moved from his arm to his back, the flesh cold and slightly damp. When his breath went from shallow and quiet to ragged tremors and he began to violently shake, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had done it all wrong. Was he dying? Would you be the one holding him when he took his final breath? Would you be forced to drive the blade that kept him from turning?
“Please, don’t die, Daryl.” You sobbed, holding him tighter while your tears fell onto his wet hair. Your embarrassment at being butt-ass naked and pressed against your best friend was forgotten, every thought consumed by grief as if he were already gone. “There’s so much I need to tell you. You can’t die until I do.” Without thought, you pressed your lips to his forehead and pulled him close enough to feel his cool breath against your neck, your vision graying at the edges. “You can’t die.” You whispered, finally giving in to the pull of exhaustion. 
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The fire had long ago burned out, sunlight driving away the shadows behind your eyelids. When you blinked open your eyes, you could see the snow still lazily falling. You felt panic grip your heart. You propped yourself up on your forearm and peered down at Daryl, almost crying with relief. Some color had returned, his lips pale but no longer blue. His skin had pinkened, gradually returning to its natural tan. You dropped your forehead against his temple. 
“Oh, thank god.” He was breathing deeply and evenly, his body free of tremors. Only resting. You felt the chill of the room sweep beneath the blanket from where you had moved, and your eyes widened. “Shit, the fire.” You made to get up but an arm snaked around your waist and held you. “Daryl?”
“Warm.” He murmured against your collarbone.
“I can get the fire going and we can get dressed. I had to get us warm. I had to get you warm. I’m so sor—”
Daryl hummed and only tightened his hold. “Warm now.”
Your heart pounded a tattoo into your ribs, your blood rushing so loudly in your ears that you wondered if he could hear it. Slowly, hesitantly, you rested your head back on your bag. 
“Ya cold?” 
You hadn’t even realized you were trembling but the answer to his question was a quiet “no, I’m okay.”
“Yer shakin’.” 
“Yeah.” You watched as he tilted his head back to catch your gaze. He looked tired but otherwise, his color was steadily returning and his skin felt like fire against your own. Could it be a fever? “You…um… you’re really warm.”
He hummed, nuzzling his nose against your lower jaw. “What’d ya wanna tell me?” He rasped. You felt the tone of it straight down to the apex of your thighs. You tried to press them together, forgetting his leg was caught in between. 
“Tell…,” you cleared your throat, “tell you?” You managed to squeak out. When you felt his lips press against your pulse, you stopped breathing, suddenly very aware of the lack of space between your naked bodies. And the press of his arousal against your stomach. 
“Mmhmm. Las’ night. Y’said I couldn’ die ‘til ya told me.” He continued to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, slowly ensuring your ability to summon any coherent thought would be inaccessible. 
“I…did.” You tilted your head back, granting him access to the full canvas of your throat. Daryl moved up onto his forearm, his other hand wrapping around the back of your neck. 
“Well?”
You lowered your head, causing him to move back but not much. He kept his face centimeters from yours, your lips almost touching. 
“Well what?” You kept your eyes on his mouth, your breath stuttering when he dragged his tongue over his lower lip. The hand on the back of your neck came around to grasp your chin, your eyes flickering up to find his already looking back. That mesmerizing blue was nearly lost to his dilated pupils. His gaze was so intense that you tried to look away but his gentle grip remained, keeping you there. His head tilted slightly, lips whispering against your own. 
“I didn’ die.” 
Your mouth crashed into his, teeth clicking and tongues dancing. It wasn’t at all what you imagined but you had both come so close to death only hours ago. All that pent up anxiety and fear boiling to the surface to present itself as desire and passion. 
You gasped when he used his weight to push you onto your back, settling himself between your thighs with nothing between his cock and your needy pussy. If you could think straight, you’d be embarrassed of how wet you were. 
When he pulled away to look down at you, you whined at the loss of him, chasing his lips but coming to a halt when he wrapped a large hand around your throat, effectively rendering you immobile. 
“Tell me.”
“I…” You felt too open, too vulnerable. What if you spilled your heart, held it out to him, and he rejected you. A voice in your brain told you to consider that you were currently pinned under his naked body but your fear of losing him— of scaring him away— quickly silenced it. “Daryl—“
“Tell me this ain’t whatcha want n’ it stops.” 
Gone was the lust driven archer, replaced by soft, kind eyes that were searching your own. You laid a hand over the one on your neck, then moved it to trace the line of his jaw. 
“It’d be a lie.” You offered quietly. “I’ve wanted this since the farm. Since you called me a ‘oompa loompa with tits.’” The corner of his mouth ticked upward for the briefest of moments. “I’ve wanted you.” He kissed you again, slower this time, a slow dance of lips and tongues that left you breathless when he pulled away. 
You felt the tip of him nudge against your entrance and pulled your legs up to anchor your thighs over his hips. Daryl pushed into you slowly, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth to keep from groaning. He wanted too badly to hear the sound you were making. Your small hands were on his back, fingernails dragging over soft flesh and raised scars to leave red marks in their wake. 
By the time his hips pressed flat against you, his cock nestled inside your warmth, you were both panting. He started slow, a steady push and pull that had you arching into him, reveling in the feel of the movement inside you. It was all you thought it would be when you pictured this while alone with your thoughts of him. All that and more. He was gentle, attentive. He listened to the hitches in your breaths and the quiet moans, getting to know your body and what you liked. 
Daryl placed a hand on either side of your head and pushed himself up, dipping his head to your chest to map the flesh with his lips. His facial hair rubbed against your skin with a delicious scrape, the minute pain just enough to cause your hips to buck underneath him. You felt him smile around the nipple between his teeth. 
“Daryl.” You breathed his name while your petite fingers wrapped around his shoulders and held tight. There was a familiar burn in your lower stomach, the knot pulling tighter and tighter with each thrust. “You feel so good.” You whined, feeling your body begin to buzz as your orgasm crept closer. You wanted him closer, wanted to feel more of him. It would never be close enough. “Please. Please, please, please.” Tears gathered on your lashes, your head shaking.
“Sshh. I gotcha.” The archer grunted, moving faster to chase his own release. When you pulled at him, he was more than willing to comply, lowering to his forearms so you could catch his mouth. His hand inched down your body, wedging between to press his thumb against your swollen clit. You pulled your mouth away from his and arched into him. Two or three tight circles was all it took for you to fall apart. 
“Daryl!” You cried, holding tightly to him as wave after wave crested, your body spasming. “I love you.” You whispered against his ear, your eyes closed and brain shrouded in a blissful fog. You felt his movements stutter before stopping completely, his warmth spilling into you. His hips rolled lazily a few more times before you felt more of his weight come down on you. It was a little hard to breathe but you’d be fuck if you’d complain. 
As if he could hear your thoughts, Daryl pulled out of you slowly and rolled to your side, adjusting the blanket and pulling you into his arms. You were still processing how this all happened. Last night, you were both frozen and you were begging him not to die. Now, you were both sweaty and sticky and clinging to one another after doing something you never thought you’d get to do.
And that’s when doubt began to creep in. What did this mean? Did he just take an opening when he saw one? Did he actually want you? He hadn’t said much aside from what he needed to in order to get your permission. And then you had— ‘oh my god’ — you said you loved him. 
“Yer thinkin’ real loud righ’ now.” His raspy voice startled you enough to flinch. 
“Sorry.” You mumbled, not really knowing what else to say. You really had said enough, hadn’t you?
“Did ya mean it?” Daryl shifted to lie on his side, resting his head on one end of your pack while you did the same on the other end. It suddenly felt like there were miles between you. 
“Yeah.” You whispered, keeping your eyes on where your hand lay in the space between your bodies. “Yeah, I did. I do.” With a deep breath, you continued, already resigned to the inevitable. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. This doesn’t have to change anything.”
“Ya think I don’ feel the same?”
When you lifted your eyes, the incredulous expression on his face perplexed the hell out of you. “Wait… do you?”
“Do ya even hafta ask?” He chuckled and pulled you close again, burying his face in your hair. “From the start, crazy girl.” You laughed, you weren’t sure why, but it felt like the right thing to do. Daryl was a man of action, never so much for words. And thinking about it now, he really had shown you over and over. 
“What now then?” You absently traced shapes onto the left side of his chest, giggling when he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 
“Still snowin’. Guess I need ta make sure yer nice n’ warm ‘til we can make our way home.” 
Laughter erupted out of you as the blanket was pulled over your heads and he rolled you onto your back again, kissing and nibbling at any piece of skin he could manage. 
And you didn’t worry about the cold anymore. 
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sparkchemy · 5 months
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lithium223 · 5 months
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losthavenmine · 5 months
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Whumptober 2023 Day 20 || "You will regret touching them."
The Quick and the Dead (1995)
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ladtheove · 1 year
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What if Nightwing managed to find and rescue Jason from the Joker.
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whumptober 2022 - day 20      ↳ stabbed (alt prompt)
whumpy embroidery time!
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aceofwhump · 5 months
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Whumptober 2023
Day 20 - Blanket
Sleepy Hollow 2x09
@whumptober @whumptober-archive
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whumpetywhump · 5 months
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Whumptober Day 20 - Blanket
Ancient Detective - Ep. 17
Dear Parents - Ep. 25
Killer And Healer - Ep. 8
Mysterious Lotus Casebook - Ep. 30
White Christmas - Ep. 7
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WHUMPTOBER 2022 - DAY 20 - Fetal Position
Gotta draw Dragon Hybrid Zhongli >:D >:D
-NO ROMANCE INCLUDED-
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meraki24601 · 5 months
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Whump Prompts
Whumptober day 20! Prompt: Blanket 
For this one, I’m stuck thinking of all the wonderful ways blankets can be used in whump or hurt/comfort. They could be kind or mean. 
Emergency workers wrapping a rescued Whumpee in a blanket
Caretaker lying next to a half-frozen Whumpee, spreading a blanket over both of them to trap the heat
Caretaker rolling a sobbing Whumpee into a human burrito.
Doctors pulling a thin blanket over Whumpee’s head when they were too late to save them
Whumper draping a blanket over Whumpee’s mouth and nose before pouring water on their face
Whumper taking away Whumpee’s blanket when they’ve misbehaved
Whumper tearing a blanket into strips to use to tie Whumpee up
There’s just so much potential in a lovely square of fabric!
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whumpypepsigal · 5 months
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Whumptober 2023 | No. 20
Alternative prompt: Panic
Gen V s01e01: “Luke, it’s gonna be okay. Calm down.”
@whumptober @whumptober-archive
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whumpshots · 5 months
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Whumptober #20
Trope of the day: “You will regret touching them.”
_
Whumper's sick joy is visible in their smile as they explain to caretaker what they did to whumpee ... to the broken shell that is finally safe and at home. Caretaker didn't expect to find whumper that fast, but they seem to pride themself with their actions.
"They stopped screaming so fast ... almost as if they gave up immediately," whumper says with a happy sigh, knowing how provocative they are acting.
Anger makes their fists shake, they jaw clench as they take a step towards whumper and look them in the eye. Their own voice is low and almost soft when they finally utter their answer. “You will regret touching them.”
A spark in whumper's eyes is enough to make caretaker realise that they have already won. Whumper is scared. Because they should be.
When caretaker patches up their bruised and bloody knuckles, all they can think of is the satisfaction they felt when whumper lost their defiant smile.
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