#amonthofwhump

[ashintheairlikesnow]

All We Have Is Each Other

CW: Intimate whumper, captivity, defiant whumpee, biting, creepy whumper, obsessive whumper, noncon kiss, vague noncon references, drugging. For @amonthofwhump Tropeathon Day 1: Duel

The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist

Takes place during Jax’s second captivity. As always, Jax is used with oversight and permission from @comfy-whumpee)

-

Savvie rolls dice every time she uses the mortar and pestle in the kitchen to grind up one of her collections of pills and mix it into Jax’s drink.

She’s always gambling with the drugs. The first part of the game is seeing whether he’ll drink it before he realizes there’s something in it. If she doesn’t mix it well enough, he’ll see the cloudy bits floating around in the glass and look at her with terrible sad eyes. Sometimes she can’t take it. She just takes the drink right back out of his hand and pours it out, makes him a new one. 

Other the other hand, sometimes his sad voice and sad eyes piss her off worse than anything else could, and she just tips it up until he chokes and makes him finish it anyway. Or shocks him, pressing the button to the remote and watching his muscles lock up, knowing he’ll look sweeter once he’s fighting the way his muscles jerk afterward, the unconscious twitches he can’t quite get rid of as the aftermath works its way through him. 

Sometimes he even looks scared. Those nights are some of her favorites. Savvie never loves Jax as much as she does when he is scared of her. 

But... she can’t keep him scared all the time. What kind of marriage would they have if she did that? No, the drinks aren’t to scare him, they’re just to make… to make things easier. And she doesn’t always do it! She doesn’t always drug him, but it’s enough that he never trusts her. She knows that. He doesn’t… trust easily. 

That’s okay. 

Their relationship got off to a rough start, that’s all, what with Jax starting off as one of the staff, bought and paid for. Plus, Jax’s dad convinced him Savvie was evil, once upon a time when he ran away from her. Taught him to hate her. She had to have her uncle fly all the way to England to bring Jax back, and it’s taking years to undo all the damage that stupid old man did. 

That’s okay. He’s getting better, he’s definitely getting better. He is. He has to be getting better. 

Still… he’s not an easy man to be married to. Not with having to keep an eye on the remote to his shock collar so he can’t take it off and try to run away again, not with the way he watches her sometimes like he wants to dunk her head into the toilet and hold it there until she drowns. Putting stuff in his drink just lets Savvie be able to relax. 

She doesn’t have to worry about what he might do when he’s so high he can’t do much of anything. Besides, it’s only like one out of every ten nights, sometimes twenty, sometimes she even goes for a month or two without doing it. 

She really doesn’t even want to. If he would just learn to be happy without it, she wouldn’t have to keep drugging him, would she? If he’d just stop being so difficult about being her husband… but that isn’t fair. He can’t be any better than he is, not really. Jax just… isn’t wired that way.

So she has to help him a little, to make it so he can have nights when he can’t stay mad at her. Or at least nights when his anger isn’t able to simmer in there behind his eyes while he says Yes, Miss Savvie or No, Miss Savvie like there’s a gun to his head. 

Still. Trying to give him these evenings where both of them just relax… it’s always a gamble. 

Even if he drinks whatever she makes without realizing it’s spiked, he doesn’t always react the same way. If she’s lucky - if her dice rolls well - the drugs make Jax… softer. He’ll lean against her when some of his strength slides away, not seek out touch but loathe it less. Those are the nights she can coax a sound out of him that isn’t clipped or tense. She still thinks about the night she gave him a back rub and he genuinely fell asleep sitting on the floor between her knees, his head drifting until it rested on her leg, the knots of tension slowly loosening beneath her kneading hands until she got distracted by the movie and forgot what she was doing. 

Sometimes he smiles, when he’s blurry and unfocused. Smiles, enough to show teeth even… God, sometimes he even laughs at some of Savvie’s jokes. It’s rare, but it happens. She loves those nights the best. Those are the nights that their marriage almost feels normal… if she just ignores the dilated pupils and the way he can’t stand up on his own. 

Sometimes he gets so foggy he can’t stop laughing, which is irritating but at least adorable to watch and take videos of to make him look at later on the next day when he sobers up again. Sometimes the side effects make him too scared to smile, his eyes darting nervously everywhere watching the movements of shadows he swears are watching him. She… tries not to give him those pills anymore.

The nights tend to end with her telling him to take off his shirt so she can enjoy the view, or even his pants, too. She usually waits on that, though, because it doesn’t matter how good the drugs are - he always hesitates when it comes to taking off his pants, as soon as his fingers touch the boxers with their oddly rolled waistband. 

It reminds him he doesn’t want to be here. Makes his addled mind come back to the collar he wears around his neck, to the reality of the life they’re living, the marriage Savvie has built all by herself whether he wanted to or not.

And he… he didn’t want to. 

So normally she waits on the getting naked bit until they’re in the bedroom and what he wants matters so much less that neither of them think about it any longer. The drugs, at least, make it harder for him to slow her down in there. 

Savvie tries not to think about that, because she doesn’t remember it that way. She likes the nights best where he doesn’t even try to fight, just lets her pull him upstairs and she gets to bury her hands in his hair and tell him what to do and have him, languid and loose-limbed, follow every command without the tension and misery he usually carries into their bed. 

She doesn’t always roll well. 

Sometimes, she rolls snake eyes… and she gets this, instead.

“Fuck’s sake,” Jax groans, words slurring around the edges, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He pushes clumsily away from her, nearly falling off the couch before he manages to catch himself. “For… f’r fuck’s sake, Savvie, what the fuck.”

His wedding ring glints, light from the TV bouncing off the deceptively plain platinum band. She’s hit all over again with a wave of love for him, for the life she’s built after he was brought back home to be hers forever, just like he always should have been. She’d been an idiot not to see it, not until he was gone and she spent years in prison dreaming about getting him back. 

“Fuck’s sake what?” She asks, voice light, smiling at him and poking him in the shoulder where they sit on the couch. 

He doesn’t slap her hand away, but she sees him look at her and… he wants to. His expression is dark. The light is bouncing off his hazel eyes, too, giving them a strange sheen of white that wipes out the color, obscures even his dilated pupils slowly taking over the iris. “What the fuck was it?”

“What was what?”

“What the fuck did you give me?” He goes to push himself to standing only to have his knees buckle beneath him, crashing him to the floor, barely catching himself on his hands. Savvie’s mouth waters, and she swallows, trying to ignore the flutter of fascinated interest in watching his fingernails scrape the rug as he tries to steady himself. “What the fuck is it, Savvie?”

“It doesn’t matter,” She answers, without changing her own tone, leaning forward with her arms resting on her thighs. Her hair falls in heavy waves down her back and over her shoulders. “It’s not anything that could hurt you.”

This time, he doesn't say Miss Savvie or try out the sad eyes. Instead, he looks away. She can nearly hear his teeth grinding. “Yeah, but once I’m all fucked up, you will.”

“Don’t be rude,” Savvie chides him, but she doesn’t move. He looks good, on his hands and knees on the floor. Well, he looks good all the time, really, but he looks even better on his hands and knees. She knows the physique he’s built with the workout routine she makes him do, knows the muscles there hidden beneath the green sweater and jeans he’s wearing. “You’ve been stressed all week. I’m just trying to help-”

“Fucking shit, the hell you are!” He manages to sit back on his knees, then collapses back until his back hits the edge of the couch cushions, upright through sheer force of will and a bit of good luck. His hands lay limp at his sides, now. When he turns to look at her, his eyes don’t focus quite right - but the fury in them is clear.

Well.

Tonight’s not going to be the best night for them, then, she supposes. She feels the edge of a headache starting up, and sighs, looking mournfully at the movie she’d pulled up for them to watch. Another night, then. A night when the gamble pays off and doesn’t backfire. A night when he can’t remember how to be angry at her.

“Fine,” She says, heavily. “I’m not trying to help you. I’m trying to help me.”Her own voice changes - drops almost a full octave from her usual carefully constructed diction and sweetness to something sharper. “I’m making tonight easier on me. Making you less… less-” She can't think of a good way to end the sentence, so she just lets it hang there between them. 

Jax snorts, looking away again. His head keeps lolling forward until his chin nearly touches his chest before he jerks it back again. “Yeah, I fucking know,” He manages, but his slurring is getting worse. “Shit f’r brains.”

Savvie sniffs, but the fake tears aren't coming as easily as they usually do. She probably accidentally gave him too much again. It’s just sometimes so hard to remember exactly how much the dose is supposed to be…

“I don’t enjoy you being cruel to me any more than you enjoy it when I do it to you, you know,” She says, suddenly… so tired. She spends so much time and effort creating a marriage herself out of a man her uncle bought for her once and abducted for her the second time, and she’s doing this all on her own - no one helps her, not really. And Jax never gives up.

She’d been sure he’d start to settle in and understand by now, but he just… he just doesn’t. And she’s so tired. Her fingers toy with the little black remote to his shock collar. Maybe she should just… just give up on having a good night and punish him for the cursing until he just bites off his stupid tongue. 

No, wait. 

She likes what he does with his tongue, when she gives the order. He’s so good with it now. Maybe… maybe just a small shock. Just to remind him he's hers. She takes a deep breath. “Jax… get on your-”

“On m’knees f’r discipline?” He starts laughing before she can finish, cutting her off, letting his head fall totally back against the arm of the couch until he’s staring at the ceiling. He sounds wild, almost like an animal. Her quiet watchful husband is feral, and Savvie resolves never to give him the pill she gave him tonight ever again. “Yeah, fucking… fuckin’ do it. Second I don’t play along, there y’go. Bzzzt.” He cackles, a cracked bark of laughter she’s never heard him make before. “Shut me up so you don’t hear me say it.”

Savvie’s heart twists. “Say what?”

The laughter dies in him as suddenly as it appeared. He turns his head, or tries to - it mostly just falls to one side until he’s looking at her. Their eyes meet, his all black pupil and hers with nearly no pupil at all. “How much I fucking hate your fucking guts.”

“You don’t hate me.” She says it firmly, as if he’s being ridiculous. “Don’t be mean, Jax. You don’t hate me at all.”

She takes a deep breath. Married couples have fights, even ugly ones sometimes, and they work it out-

“Yeah. I… I really do.” Disgusted, that’s the tone in his voice. Disgusted with her. “I do. I hate you.”

“Why do you hate me?”

The look he gives her is such a blatant are you a complete fucking moron that she can hear his voice even though he doesn’t say a word. 

“No, hold on.” She waves one hand, dismissing her own question. His eyes briefly follow the movements of her fingers, distracted by whatever the drugs make him see there. Trails of light, maybe. It’s probably beautiful. “Hold on. I know why-”

“Do you?” His question is sharp, snapped, even as his every muscle can barely tense enough to move. “Do you fuckin’ really?”

“Yes. I do.” Savvie’s too tired to talk him in a circle tonight. She’s just… too exhausted by her bad gamble, bringing neither the snuggly Jax or the scared one, but this angry, vengeful animal instead.

Her headache is getting worse. 

She grabs her glass of wine off the coffee table and chugs it so fast a little drip escapes the corner of her mouth and runs down her chin. She has to wipe it away, wincing at the… at the idea of how that looks. Her mother would have had a fit about it. If she hadn’t died years ago. “Because I had you kidnapped.” 

Jax is silent, for a beat. He squints at her. “Fuck… what’d you say? Might be hearin’ shit.” 

She laughs, softly. Not her usual laughter, crafted to fill up a room and put all eyes on her. This laugh is barely there, but far more genuine. “No. You're not hallucinating, that shouldn't happen with what I gave you tonight.”

“Oh, good, not this fucking drugging, then, jussss-” His head falls too far to one side and he forces it back up, groaning. “Jusss… others.”

“Only one of the pills does that. And you were cute when you thought there were monsters in the bathroom.” She gets that flat stare from him again and this time she can't hold eye contact, looking down and away, still fiddling with the remote to his collar. “I just. I do know what I did, Jax.”

“Yeah, I fucking know you know-”

“I had you kidnapped.” She takes a deep breath. It feels oddly good to say, like a scene in a movie confessing to a priest. A foul-mouthed priest she’s been sleeping with for over a year. The thought makes her smile, just a little. “My uncle had people watching you, and when I was ready, he knew where you’d be and he abducted you for me. I know that. I know that you’d run, if you could. I’d take your collar off right now if I thought you’d stay without wearing it.”

Jax is silent for so long she briefly wonders if he's flat out forgotten how to talk. Then he shrugs - or tries to, his arms don't quite follow his commands. “You’d find somethin’ else, some other reason for shit ‘round my neck. You fuckin’ like it.”

For the first time, she doesn't deny it. “I do.” She laughs at the way he looks almost comically surprised, unable to keep his usual closed-off expressions in place with the drug coursing through his veins. “What? Can't a girl have a kink?”

“Sure fuckin’ can, but you… you don' have a kink, you got… goddamn victims.”

“... I… yeah. But it-... that's not my point. It isn't about the collar, Jax. Your wedding ring does it for me, too. I could barely wait to get you home after we signed the marriage certificate.”

The glare is back. His hatred is blistering her skin. She watches him try to stand, making it nearly upright before he falls back down again with a heavy thump. 

Her mouth twitches. “You want help, sweetie?”

“Ffffuck you.” 

“Well, I mean, if you’re asking so nicely.” She giggles at her own joke. 

He mumbles something she can't quite hear, trying to stand one more time but quickly giving up. He makes it onto the couch, at least. Savvie stands, turning to grab his ankles, shifting so he’s lying on his back, head and feet each cushioned by the arms of the comfortable, overstuffed couch. He struggles weakly, and it's hard work, but she gets him where she wants him. She barely breathes, taking in his chest rising and falling under his sweater, how his inhales are coming more sharply. 

She can't help herself. 

Savvie climbs on top of him, like she’s done a hundred times. She straddles him, sitting on his hips and leaning down to kiss his neck, nosing under his jaw. At first, his head tips back in resignation - but then he curses and pushes at her weakly instead. “Don’t.”

She grabs his wrists and shoves them above his head. He’s so weak, the drugs have taken all that muscle and made them… useless at holding her off. There’s a shiver of excitement down her spine. “Uh-uh, sweetie. You’re the one who said to fuck you, remember?”

She feels a thrill at saying fuck, like she’s still a kid sneaking swears in her room when her parents won’t overhear. 

“Don't,” He groans. “Sav-... Savvie, stop. G’t off me. I hate you.”

“I know.” She smiles down at him. His eyes meet hers, tired and bleary. Furious and almost resigned. “I know you hate me, Jax… but I love you.”

She leans down, her hair a waterfall curtain, blocking them both off from the world. She can smell the cologne she buys for him, blended with her own pricey perfume. His wrists jerk against her grip and she digs her nails in until he grunts in pain and the skin gives beneath. 

“Savvie,” he whispers. 

“Sssshhh.” She lets go with one hand, shifting both his wrists to her other one, and presses a finger against his lips. “I love you so much,” She whispers. “And I don't need you to love me back, sweetie, I don’t. I just need you to lie for me.”

 She kisses him, then, pressing her lips firmly to his. For half a second, his mouth is slack and unresisting even as his body shudders with disgust. He’s warm, his skin burning up beneath her. Her mouth moves against his, trying to get him to answer her, to open up.

His lips gently part. For a brief moment, Savvie feels the rush of victory.

Then he bites.

Pain blooms in a sudden flare as his teeth bury themselves into her lower lip and he jerks his head to the side, sensitive skin tearing.

“Shit!” Savvie jerks backwards, staring down at him wide-eyed. She can taste her own blood in her mouth. It’s smeared on his lips and his teeth like badly-done lipstick as he gives her a smile that's really a snarl. “Oh my God, Jax-... how dare you-”

“Fuck you! Don't fucking touch me!” He gets his arms more or less under his own control and shoves her off of him. She crashes into the coffee table, the legs giving out, tumbling her to the floor. Pain spikes hot and demanding along her hip where she hits the hard angle of the corner and she finds herself the one lying on the floor, while Jax slowly sits up, wiping blood off his lips. 

Her blood. 

Savvie pulls her fingers from her mouth and gasps. There’s a smear of red, bright and vibrant, the unmistakable sense of blood trickling down over her chin. She tongues at the wound, then winces as the pain flares bright, like he’s bitten her all over again. She considers tears - looks at the loathing in his eyes, the absolute rage written in the lines of his face - and then decides they’re wasted on him tonight. Instead, she just shakes her head. “That hurt.”

“Good. Don' like bein’ the one fucking bleeding for once, huh?” His eyes drift closed. He struggles to open them again, to keep his eyes on her. “Shit feelin’, isn't it?” 

“God.” She swallows. Blood on her tongue is making her feel nauseous and she gets to her feet carefully. Her mouth and hip throb. She’s going to be so bruised tomorrow, going to ache so much. “You’re awful sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah.” He grins. He hasn't bothered to try and get the red off his teeth. “I know. So… so fffffuckin’ get rid of me, then.”

Savvie snorts, limping a little as she moves to pick up the spilled wine bottle from the floor. She could shock him now - that’s what she would usually do. Or call Isaac and have him carted off to spend another month locked in the kennels with the dogs. He… probably doesn’t care about that, though. Anything to get away from her. Anything is better than her, to him.

“Get rid of you?” She drinks the last swallow in the bottle, washing blood down her throat with the wine. “Then what, Jax? I should just… live here alone, without you, for the rest of my life?”

“Fucking-... yes, or go fucking die. I don't fucking care.” The flush of hot anger bleeds away, his voice softening a little. “I don't… don' care, Savvie. I don’t care about you.”

“No. You do.” She feels a burst of desperation to make him understand. “You hate me, right? That’s caring about me, still.”

“Savvie-”

“No. I love you. You are mine, and I am keeping you. This is love, Jax. What I feel for you is true love.” 

He shakes his head, swaying a little where he sits. He tries to push her away again as she takes him by the arm but his burst of energy seems to have used him up. He lets her, in the end, get him onto his feet. She leads him on his unsteady legs out of the room, and he stumbles along with her. 

“S'not love,” He mumbles. She keeps an arm around his waist to help him balance. “Fucking… fuck you. Let me leave, Savvie.”

He doesn't have the strength to push her away, not anymore. He has to use her to stay up as they take the stairs one at a time, although after three or four he jerks away again and uses the railing, leaning heavily against it as he drags himself upwards, inch by inch, step by step. 

She lets him pull away, watching his determination to not need her, how badly he doesn’t even want her. There’s a canyon inside of her, something dark and deep that hurts so much worse than her hip or her torn open lower lip, threatening to claw its way out as she watches the man she has forced to play the role of her husband do anything he can to avoid her touch. 

Her jaw sets. “It is. It is love, and you know what? It’s all the love you’re going to get. Ever. No one else will ever love you.” Savvie’s voice stays low. “You’re not… you’re not lovable, Jax, but I don’t care, I love you anyway. Nobody else would. No one is ever going to even want to love you but me.”

He slumps. The fight’s all gone out of him, for now. Her gamble failed tonight and Jax is buckling under the weight of what runs through his veins, the heavy expectations in her eyes and her smile and her devotion. 

“Fuck,” is all he says, barely a whisper under his breath.

Savvie sighs, touching her fingers to her lip again. The bleeding has slowed but there’s still a spot of red. “Goes both ways, though, I think.”

He doesn't look at her. “What?”

“This… how much you hate me… how I had to kidnap you, and put that thing on your neck to keep you here, how you wish you were anywhere but here with me… you know, I, I get it.”

He has to stop at the landing and lean over, resting his forehead against the wall. 

She lays a hand on his back, leaning over to speak right against his ear. “I get that your hate is all the love I’m going to get, too, Jax. Nobody else will ever love me, either.” 

Her throat feels tight, and she can’t tell if she really feels the twisting nerves in her stomach, the sense of dread, or if it’s part of her act for Jax. Sometimes even Savvie isn’t sure when she means the things she says. Sometimes, even worse, she really does.

“All we’re ever going to have is each other.”

He doesn’t answer her. But when she takes his arm in her hand, he allows himself to be dragged along towards her bedroom. The fight might be gone, but so is the feeling. There’s nothing in his eyes that shows he even heard her.

That’s okay. She can be honest, in the dark, in the middle of the night, knowing that he’s too drugged to remember anything she said when he wakes up again. She’ll lie to herself again by morning. So will he.

She just needs him to lie. 

-

@whumpyourdamnpears consider this my evil savvie gift to you

#whump #amonthofwhump #amow tropeathon day 1 #duel #intimate whumper #obsessive whumper #creepy whumper #noncon touch #noncon kissing #noncon references #sadistic whumper #drugging tw #drugged whumpee #jax #comfy-whumpee #captivity #defiant whumpee #whumpee fights back #amow tropeathon2024 #day1

[copiumm]

Day 1 of AMOW’s Winter Whumperland. I started out nice and easy with a little emotional whumpy whump, but I plan on getting down with the sickness as it goes on.

I’ve never done one of these things before, so I don’t know if I’m following the rules or doing it right but whatever. I just want to write more whump.

Summary: An AU rewrite of Steve finding Bucky. Bucky finds Steve, instead.

#amow winter whumperland 2022 #winter whumperland 2022 #captain america #bucky barnes #steve rogers #fanfiction #whump #hurt/comfort #ptsd #bucky needs a hug #someone get this baby a blanket #its only day one #amonthofwhump

[amonthofwhump]

It's that time of year again! AMonthOfWhump's Winter Whumperland event runs from December 1-12, with a collection of prompts for your inspiration each day. To participate, create in any medium and share your works on Tumblr. Use the event tags or @ us in your post to get reblogged here. Prompt list transcript, tagging info, and a free-to-use post header under the cut.

1: Santa Claus

Claustrophobia

Forced Celebration

Panic Attack

Comfort: Secret Santa Exchange

2: Krampus

Sensory Overload

Temptation

Whipping

Comfort: Decorating Cookies

3: George Bailey

"We've lost everything we have."

Disowned

Drowning

Comfort: Christmas Market

4: The Grinch

Sedatives

Blackmail

Yandere Whumper

Comfort: Ugly Sweater Party

5: Ebenezer Scrooge

Power Outage

Time Loop

Overworked Whumpee

Comfort: Snuggling by the Fire

6: Jack Frost

Post-apocalyptic Winter

Amnesia

Comfort turned to Fear

Comfort: Snowball Fight

7: Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer

Inhuman Whumpee

Exile

Self-sacrifice

Comfort: You’re Not Alone

8: John Mclane

Held Hostage

Russian Roulette

Forced to Watch

Comfort: Rescue

9: Jólakötturinn

Feral Whumpee

Left Behind

Collared

Comfort: Wiping the Other’s Tears Away

10: Tio de Nadal

Conditioning

Left to Die

Final Countdown

Comfort: Holiday Traditions

11: The Yule Goat

Branding

Stitches

Public Whump

Comfort: Trimming the Tree

12: Elf on the Shelf

Trapped

Bedside Vigil

Used as bait

Comfort: Mistletoe (or avoiding it)

Event Tags: #amow winter whumperland 2023, #day1, #claustrophobia, (tag the prompt you're using)

And lastly, here is a post header to use for the event if you like. Happy whumping!

#whump event #amow winter whumperland 2023 #whump prompt list #whump challenge #whump community

[whumpsday]

With the Ides of March coming up, March is the perfect month to get into a whumpy mood! Here's some events to help with that!

March events starting today:

🏃 March Trope-A-Thon (@amonthofwhump), prompts here, a 7-day whump event (starts March 15!)

🎭 Whump: The Musical (@whumpthemusical), prompts here, a 31-day musical-themed whump event

📜 The Whumps of March (@storyweaverofgondor), prompts here, a 31-day literature-themed whump event

🌲 Wollemi Whump Event (@merriam-whumpster), prompts here, a month-long, 15-prompt whump event

🌵 March of Pain (@marchofpain), prompts here, a 31-day whump event

April events starting next month:

🩹 Whumpril (@whumpril), prompts here, a 30-day whump event

🎂 WoW's Birthday Whump Event (@whumperofworlds), prompts here, a 15-day whump event

🌧️ Angstpril (@chaos-company), prompts here, a 30-day angst event

🫀 Whump Wars (@folieadeuxserver), info here, a 10-day points-based Hannibal fandom whump event

In addition, I've made a whump event myself for the first time, though it's not seasonal: the Conflict Whump Challenge has 3-9 prompts depending on how you play it.

Have fun and enjoy the coming spring!

Full list of whump events here

#whump community

[cricket-reader]

Sick Day

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox

Summary: Matt isn’t very happy when he comes home and discovers that his girlfriend had kept her sickness from him. He makes sure she is well taken care of before they go to bed.

Warnings: language, sickness, pet names, Matt being an overprotective simp, fluffy

Word Count: 960

Prompt: Sickfic, headache, cold/fever, blankets, hot drink (except I changed it to hot soup)

A/N: day 5 of March Trope-A-Thon by @amonthofwhump

Today had been horrible. She awoke to see that Matt had left early to go to work. On top of that, she felt like shit. Her head was pounding and she was burning up. Her nose felt stuffy, and her muscles ached.

She got up and took her temperature to see that she had a fever of 100.7 degrees Fahrenheit. She called into work and made her way over to the couch, not wanting to get the bed all disgusting from her sickness. Matt would still sleep there, after all. He didn’t need to come home to a bed that smelled like sweat and sickness. Whatever the hell “sickness” smelled like.

Matt frowned as he entered his apartment. He could hear the coughing as soon as he entered the complex. He could hear shifting on the couch, telling him his girlfriend was camped out in the living room with some blankets.

“Sweetheart?” Matt questioned, setting down his cane. He heard a groan as he walked over to the couch. “Why didn’t you call me to tell you that you were sick?”

“Didn’t wanna bother you,” she mumbled, sniffling a bit. “I know you’ve been busy lately.”

“I’m never too busy for you, love. I would have come home earlier if you called.”

She sighed. “I know, and that’s why I didn’t.”

“Well you should have,” he admonished her. She always did this. Her needs were never one of her priorities. She put everyone before her, and it bothered the ever-loving shit out of him. Because Matt knew she deserved the world. No, she deserved more than that. The universe, maybe.

She just huffed in irritation, knowing that there was absolutely no way she was going to win this argument.

“Have you eaten today?” Matt questioned as he leaned against the armrest of the couch. She cursed how well he knew her.

“No, I didn’t wanna get up.”

Matt just shook his head as he got up to make some soup. He glared in her direction when he heard her shift, knowing that she was trying to get up to help him. “Don’t you even try, young lady.” He put a pot on the stove.

“I just wanna help. You’ve been at work all day while I’ve just been sitting on my ass!”

Matt turned his head in her direction and gave her an incredulous look. “You’ve been sick!”

“That’s no excuse!”

“What if I was the one that was sick?”

“That’s different,” she pouted, crossing her arms as she watched him pour a pre-made homemade soup into the warm pot. She blew her nose with a tissue, her nose already red and raw from blowing it so much.

“And how, pray tell, is that different?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because it’s you!”

“Your logic is lacking, hun.”

She just groaned and flopped back onto the couch dramatically. A cold spell made her shiver. She grabbed one of the blankets and furrowed into it. She had been having hot and cold flashes off and on all day. She couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Turning off the stove when the soup was finished, he put it in a bowl before moving over to the couch. Setting it on the coffee table, he noted that her breathing had slowed; she must have been asleep.

“Sweetheart?” Matt gently shook her awake. He felt horrible for disrupting her, but she needed to get food in her system if she wanted to get better. She groaned, turning to bury herself further into the couch. “Baby, you need to get some food in your body. Then we can cuddle and get some sleep, okay?”

She blinked awake, groggily lifting her hands to rub at her eyes. “Cuddles?”

Matt’s heart melted hearing her soft little voice. It’s moments like that when he falls impossibly deeper in love with his precious girlfriend. He never thinks it’s possible to love her even more, but somehow he does manage. “Anything you want, baby.”

She smiled and took the soup from him. Matt scooted closer to her body and she snuggled against him as she began to blow on the soup.

The soup was hot in her mouth, but it felt good, warming her insides. “Thanks, Matty. You’re the best boyfriend.”

“It helps to have such a great girlfriend,” he flirted with her, loving the skip of her heart whenever he would. She blushed as she lifted another spoonful of soup to her mouth.

When she finished the soup, Matt made her drink some more water. She just huffed in exasperation. “I thought you said after soup I’d get cuddles.”

“Sorry, hun, can’t I just take care of you?”

She shrugged, taking a sip from the glass. “I’m just not really used to it.”

“Which is exactly why I’m making sure you get the best treatment now,” he stated.

“You’re too good for me, Matthew,” she sighed, leaning her head against his torso.

He just chuckled, “I’m pretty sure you got that sentence twisted.”

“Let me win for once, please,” she pouted. Matt sighed and agreed to let her have that one. It was the least he could do after she had asked him so sweetly, after all.

When she finished the tall glass, she set it on the table, making sure to exaggerate the sound of it being empty. “Snuggle time!”

He laughed as he was ambushed by her. Wrapping his arms around her, he picked her up to bring her to bed. She protested, hating being picked up, but Matt just shushed her as he lied her down. He undressed and crawls in next to her. She burrowed closer to her boyfriend, and he could hear her sigh contentedly, smiling against his warm skin.

She really couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.

#amow tropeathon 2023 #avengers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #domestic avengers #marvel fic #mcu whump #hurt/comfort #marvel fanfic #sickfic #sick #matt murdock #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #matt murdock whump #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x y/n #cricket-reader #marvel imagine #marvel cinematic universe

[wolviecat]

KRAMPUS

He would just let the medic patch him up, or maybe not even that. He knew how to take care of himself. But the generals had a different idea, and now he was standing in front of them, trying to ignored their shocked faces at the sight of the electoral-whip wound…

After Zygeria arc Rex because there is not enough Zygeria content

finally drawing from right year of Winter whumperland 😅 @amonthofwhump

#amow winter whumperland 2023 #day 2 #too late #captain rex #Star Wars #my art #fanart #clone wars

[onlythegoodpretzels]

Straight from the sketchbook King Rauru from Tears of the Kingdom. I might color this sometime, but...glowing...so many layers...

I love the idea of him surviving sealed with the Demon King, and he and Link having to share the arm. Usually Link has it. It only reverts to Rauru when he's in a very bad way and can't stop the reflex calling it back trying to survive.

For @amonthofwhump trope-a-thon day 1: Duel

#amow tropeathon2024 #day1 #duel #whump art #whump #totk rauru #king rauru #loz totk #totk fanart #collapsed #kneeling #zonai have such teeny short little legs! I think they're so funny! #my art

[rizzoto-whump]

@marchofpain Alternative prompt: "Please...."

@amonthofwhump day 5: Military - Interrogation

"I-I know nothing about it, C-Captain, please…." Colonel Zhang coughed up blood, purple and red marks marring his skin. "You know about that!"

Captain Van den Berg laughed before flipping the chair, causing the Colonel to stumble to the ground once again. How many times had it been? He had lost count. The Captain beat the Colonel again, striking his stomach, causing more blood to spill from the Colonel's mouth. He then stepped on his shoulder.

"S-Stop."

"Please, Sir--" Captain Van den Berg whispered, his breath hot against the Colonel's face. They were closer than the Colonel realized. "--Just tell me what the fuck I want to hear. And we're done with this nonsense."

The Colonel rolled his brown eyes. What did he actually want?

#whump #whump prompt #whump art #whump oc #military whump #amow tropeathon2024 #interrogation whump #older whumpee #Please #march of pain #OC: James #OC: Ronald

[blackrosesandwhump]

A Punishment Most Vile

A Month of Whump: Impalement

March of Pain 2024: Miserable

BTHB: Slammed into a Wall

Fandom: Original work

Synopsis: The servant boy of an evil magician finds himself in deep trouble and suffers the painful consequences.

CW: torture, magic whump, punishment, impalement

The magician’s workshop smelled of stale magic, pungent and fermented-sweet and unsettling. The orphan boy held his breath as he straightened a stack of ancient books covered in thick blue dust. Given the kind of magic experiments the magician conducted, that dust could be anything. The powdered skin of some strange creature, or maybe the remnants of an experiment gone wrong. The orphan boy didn’t want to find out.

He shouldn’t have to find out, he thought, turning from the books to the puddle of murky, foul-smelling liquid pooled in the back corner. He was eighteen. He should be learning alongside the magician, helping him with his work rather than cleaning up his messes like some dumb servant. Helping him, rather than suffering the punishments brought on by his anger.

You are a servant, though, came the little annoying voice in his head. That’s all you are.

And as usual, he argued back.

No, no, I’m not!

You’ll never amount to anything, will you? You know that.

Just watch! I’ll prove you—

“Are you quite finished?” said the magician from the door. The orphan boy jumped and almost slipped in the murky pool.

“Almost, sir,” he mumbled. “There was a lot of mess to clean up.”

“Is that a criticism?” said the magician.

“No, sir.” The boy turned away, hiding his smirk.

But the magician saw it anyway. His gloved hand shot out and seized the boy’s throat, lifting him just barely off the ground, so that his toes dragged across the grimy stone. The boy choked and spluttered, scrabbling at the powerful hand around his neck.

“I would expect,” said the magician, in a voice dangerously low and cool, “that you would know your place by now. But I see you still need to learn.”

Calmly, as if tossing aside a piece of trash, the magician threw the boy across the room. He slammed into the stone wall and crumpled, whimpering, in a heap.

Just a servant. Nothing but a servant. Nothing but a—

“On your feet! Stand up!”

The boy stood, shaking, knowing what was about to happen. Another punishment. And all because of his stupid mouth and his stupid thoughts.

There was a flash of magic; something hit his chest hard, driving him up the wall with its force. He stuck there, feet dangling off the ground, unable to move. The magician muttered an unintelligible word. The pressure in the boy’s chest magnified to an intense pain, radiating through his pinioned body. He clenched his teeth against it, willing himself not to scream, not to betray his agony and satisfy the magician’s whim.

“You will remain there until you learn what I’ve tried to teach you,” the magician ordered, turning on his heel.

His back was turned.

The boy looked down.

A glowing shaft, oily black despite its underlying green hue, protruded from the left side of his chest. Tendrils of dark magic trailed from its end, smoky and foul.

The boy dropped his head back, squeezing his eyes shut against the shattering pain, against the pulse of his own failure in his impaled heart.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you die. That would defeat the purpose of this lesson, after all.” With that, the magician left, and the boy hung alone in his punishment, with only his own tormented thoughts for company.

@marchofpain @amonthofwhump @badthingshappenbingo

#amow tropeathon2024 #day2 #impalement #marchofpain2024 #day18 #miserable #bthb #bthb card #bad things happen bingo #slammed into a wall #magic whump #magic whumper #torture #punishment #fantasy setting #impaled #blackroseswrites #whump challenge #prompt fill #flash fiction #dark magic #fantasy whump

[whumpers-monthly]

Whump calendar 2023

Attention: I will delete the prompts in all the months except December next month to make room for next year. If you want to save the whump calendar 2023 you should do it now. Also check out my new blog @whumpcalendar where I will post the calendar from now on.

So I made a calendar and @thewhumpyprintingpress made a checklist for all whump events. Let us know if you're hosting an event so that we can add you.

All events under the cut.

So far we've got:

Whumpers-monthly by @whumpers-monthly One prompt every month.

2023 Year of Whump by @soheavyaburden A prompt can either be filled each week or each month, runs the whole year.

January: Whumpuary by @whumpuary 10 sets of prompts

February: Febuwhump by @febuwhump

March: March Trope-A-Thon by @amonthofwhump 7 days of prompts

April: Whumpril by @whumpril

May: Whumpay by @whumpay Mediwhump May by @mediwhumpmay

July: Whumpmas in July by @whumpmasinjuly

September: Whumptember by @whumptember Sicktember by @sicktember

October: AI-less whumptober by @ailesswhumptober Angstober by @angstober Whumptober by @whumptober

November: Comfortember by @comfortember

December: Whumpcember by @whumpcember 12 Days of Whumpmas by @whumpmas 12 sets of prompts Winter Whumperland by @amonthofwhump 1 - 12 of December Hurtcember by @hurtcember Merry Whumpmas by @whumpishprompts

We will add all the other blogs as soon as the promptlists are available.

#whump #whump community #whump prompts #whump prompt #whump events #whump event #whump calendar #whump calendar 2023

[firapolemos05]

@amonthofwhump AO3

Day 2: Sensory Overload

Additional CW: poisoned, migraines, unintentional self-harm

Gajeel whump taglist: @blackberry-bloody , @ostensiblyfunctional

It was those fucking mushrooms.

The mushrooms Jet had stepped on earlier and accidentally got him gassed with a cloud of spores.

It had to be. Nothing else would make sense as to why Gajeel's head currently felt like it was being run over by a train. The fungus had smelled like shit but he'd trade that hell for this one any day.

Everything was too damn bright. Too damn loud.

The glare of the sun sharpened into invisible needles and turned up the saturation of every color around him to maximum. The too-bright grass. The too-bright sky. The eye-searing yellow of Levy's blouse.

“Gajeel? Are you okay?” he heard her ask, concern clear in her voice.

If that toxin had only been affecting his sight, he would've declined anything was wrong and moved on with limited use of his eyes. Annoying, but manageable with his ears and nose compensating and the rest of Team Shadowgear's presence.

But nope. The toxin was fucking over his senses in every aspect it could.

Of course it had to be him, as his shit luck would have it. Of fucking course it had to be the guy with dragon level sensory that already gave him migraines on a bad day.

Levy's voice, the crunch of leaves under Jet and Droy's shoes as they rushed over, the gusting wind, every single bird, leaf, bug, and brook within a half-mile radius. His own pained breathing and pounding heart. Even through his hands clutched over his ears, the cacophony of noise was ripping down the walls of his focus that usually protected his mind from being overwhelmed.

It felt like there was an electric surge under his skin and suddenly he had an acute awareness of everything touching him. The fibers of his clothes itched. The bits of metal braided in his hair scratched at the back of his neck. Something grasped his arm. Despite its gentleness, his nerves prickled and lit aflame as if it burned. That shouldn't have hurt. Why did it hurt? What the fuck was this poison? He couldn't stop himself from flinching away and uttering a low defensive growl from deep in his throat. Even that grated on his eardrums.

The touch recoiled and didn't return.

A sharp tang of blood stung his nose and only then did Gajeel realize his claws had dug into his scalp. A brief distraction before it blurred into everything else becoming too much. His chest was tight. It was hard to breathe. His brain was trying to break through his skull. It was too much. Too much. Too much!

Silence hit like the world pressed an off button.

For a moment, panic took over in the midst of his confusion, his head screaming oh gods did he just lose-

No, no wait. He could still hear himself breathing (at least through the persistent ringing). He could still hear. It's just everything else around him that had decided to clam up.

He smelled the other three around him, and with caution, opened one eye to test his vision. His head still hurt. At some point he must've fallen to his knees, as the ground was much closer than it was before. And darker.

Actually everything appeared darker.

Gajeel finally looked up, seeing the team's alarmed faces in front of him, Levy kneeling down close while Jet and Droy stood a little bit behind her. Close but not too close. He shoved aside the embarrassment to ignore again later in favor of wondering why everything was different.

It felt like a thick filter on a pair of sunglasses and he was not going to complain. It was a blissful mercy. The light was suppressed and while the colors were still a bit too vibrant, this was leagues better than the eyestrain of before. He almost asked about it when he noticed two tangible words floating above Levy's head.

‘Soundproof’ ‘Dim’

Ah. That explained it.

Levy's moving hands caught his attention and her fingers followed the gestures to substitute for spoken words.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

The assault of noise had stopped but Gajeel still hesitated before removing his hands from his ears to respond to her. Some sliver of paranoia expected something to blare out and send him reeling again, but he trusted Levy's magic to hold.

“Mushroom spores,” he signed. Making eye contact with Jet, he added, “the one you crushed a few minutes ago.”

The sound that left Jet's lips did not carry through the soundproof dome, but Gajeel could recognize a curse anywhere. A series of gestured apologies followed in quick succession. Droy shot the man a questioning glance.

Gajeel figured the two stood outside the range of Levy's magic, as the two exchanged words he couldn't hear before Droy began to address him in sign language.

“From the description, it was most likely a Red Screamer fungus,” he explained, and Gajeel almost laughed at how fitting the name was. “The toxin does attack sensory neurons and cause overstimulation, but it is temporary. It should hopefully wear off in a couple hours.”

Ugh. A few hours of this shit? For once he was grateful they chose to take a less intensive job that wasn't too time sensitive. It would've been a nightmare if he needed to fight off some monster or dark guild bastard in this condition.

The discontent must have been clear in his face, for Levy piped up. “If we make camp here and rest a while, I believe I can hold the spells for the duration.”

The nagging thoughts returned, trying to push him to keep moving and not waste time. That nagging voice that always lied to him saying he could walk it off and get work done. Key word: lied. The reality was that bad sensory days always burned him out and it was no different now.

A short, tired nod gave them permission.

#amow winter whumperland 2023 #day2 #sensory overload #fairy tail #gajeel redfox #levy mcgarden #jet and droy #team shadowgear #whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #whump stuff #my work #my writing #Gajeel whump #original

[amonthofwhump]

What: AMonthOfWhump's March Trope-a-Thon is a week-long whump event for all! Choose a prompt from our list for each day, or give us your own spin on the theme.

Where: Share your creations here on Tumblr. @ us to get your entry reblogged here!

When: March 15-22

Who: All are welcome! Writing, art, gifs, playlists, edits, cosplay, anything you want to create.

Tagging example: #amow tropeathon2024, #day1, #duel, #your tags here

Text of the prompts under the cut.

1. Fantasy Setting

- Locked in a Tower

- Victim of a Curse

- Duel

2. Gore

- Impalement

- Bleeding Out

- Nonconsensual Body Modification

3. Environmental

- A Long Cold Night

- Miles To Go

- Flash Flood

4. Nonhuman Whumpee

- Mundane Object is Poison To Me

- "Monster! Monster!"

- Caged

5. Spy/Military

- Interrogation

- Cover Identity

- Battle

6. Captivity

- Kidnapping

- Escape Attempt

- Hunger

7. Team Whump

- "Alright, let's get a headcount"

- Filling in for Another Team Member

- Mutual First Aid

8. Violence!

- No Holds Barred Beatdown

- zoutmatched

- Blackout Rage

Alt Prompts:

Abandoned

Doorstep Collapse

"It's not that deep"

Pursuit

"Take me instead"

#amow tropeathon2024 #whump community #whump event #whump prompt list #writing prompts #prompt list #whump prompt

[whumpsday]

The year continues on with February! Here's what whump events we've got going on this month.

February events starting today:

🐝 Febuwhump (@febuwhump), prompts here, a 29-day whump event

⭐ F-whump-ruary (@f-whump-ruary), prompts here, a 21-day whump event

🐺 Witcher Whump Week (@witcherwhumpweek), prompts here, a 7-day fandom whump event

🪐 Star Wars Whump Week (@whumpspacesw), prompts here, a 7-day fandom whump event

🦹 Villaintine's Day (@black-rose-events), prompts here, a single-day hero/villain event where whump is stated as welcome

these aren't whump-related, but i'm mentioning them too because i like them:

✍️ Writer Appreciation Challenge (@entomolog-t), prompts here, a 29-day g/t event with prompts related to community actions rather than writing itself

🏁 Finish Your Fucking Fics February (@.itsfirecat), prompts here, a 12-prompt writing bingo-challenge aimed at finishing WIPs

March events starting next month:

❓ March Whump Event (@amonthofwhump), prompts probably coming soon, a 7-day whump event

🎭 Whump: The Musical (@whumpthemusical), prompts here, a 31-day musical-themed whump event

📜 The Whumps of March (@storyweaverofgondor), prompts here, a 31-day literature-themed whump event

🌲 Wollemi Whump Event (@merriam-whumpster), prompts here, a month-long, 15-prompt whump event

Lots of fun themed stuff this time of year! Pick your favorite and create something for it! :)

Full list of whump events here

#whump community

[callaeidae3]

A Month of Whump Winter Whumperland 2023 - Day 6: Amnesia

"Do you truly not remember what happened? Your fever was high...and you thought I was someone else. Someone bad."

@amonthofwhump

#amow winter whumperland 2023 #day6 #amnesia #whump aftermath #kindall k series #susan harrison #yuuki takahashi #kk2 #whump art

[cricket-reader]

You Matter to Me

Masterlist | A03 | Wattpad | Recommendations | Inbox

Summary: as a healer for the Avengers, she get to heal a lot. What happens when she doesn’t tell them that each time she heals someone, their injuries transfer to her? Eventually someone is going to find out.

Warnings: language, injuries, self-sacrificing behaviour, brief mentions of past abuse/child abuse

Word Count: 2,209

Prompt: Fantasy, magical exhaustion

A/N: day 4 of March Trope-A-Thon by @amonthofwhump

Lying in her bed, she curls up on herself. The past few missions have been horrible. She wouldn’t tell anyone, but the amount of injuries she had to heal was really taking a toll on her.

Pain. Everywhere on her body there’s pain. She feels like a walking bruise.

She cringes when the door to her room bursts open. “Help! I’m sorry to wake you, but I need your help!” Tony cries out.

Tears well up in her eyes. She just wants to rest. She can’t take it anymore.

“It’s the kid, he got beat up real bad. We think he fractured his ribs.”

She slowly raises from her spot on the bed, leaving the comfort of snuggling into her warm blankets. “Where is he?” She weakly mutters, not having the energy to put her usual sunny disposition into her words.

“He passed out on the couch,” he informs her, already striding back to the common room. She limps her way to the common room. Normally she tries to hide her pain, but after this week’s missions, she can’t find it in her.

Luckily, no one else is in the common room. It’s just a barely cognisant kid, and a person that’s too preoccupied with the kid’s health to care about anything else. She falls ungracefully to her knees, cringing as her knees meet the floor. Her hands hover over Peter’s body before she takes a breath and makes contact with him. Immediately a sharp pain grows in her ribs. Tears gather in her eyes as she continues to take away his pain.

Her head is pounding and her ribs ache. It hurts so bad. This is even worse than when her father and his friends would use her after getting into bar fights. She knew what she was signing up for, but this… this is a little too much.

When Peter gasps awake, she plops down and rests her head against the couch cushion. Tears roll down her face before she turns to cover her face with the couch. Breaths becoming laboured, she can’t hold in the whimper that escapes her mouth.

How is she going to get back to her room? How’s she going to get out of this without getting caught? The Avengers aren’t stupid. They’re going to notice that something is off. Then they’re going to make her stop healing them because they are all too good to take advantage of her. And since she’ll be of no use to them, they’ll kick her out. She doesn’t want to leave. She can’t leave her family. The only family that has genuinely seemed to care for her.

“Hey, you alright?” Peter’s soft voice breaks her out of her racing thoughts. She nearly cries at the kindness in his voice. No one else cared to ask her that question when they noticed she was in pain. In fact, her father and her friends seemed to enjoy watching her in pain. It wasn’t fair, but she knew how life worked.

“I’m fine,” she mutters, straining against the stabbing pain in her ribs with every breath. Peter takes her head in his hands and gently lifts it from the couch so his kind eyes meet hers. Her head pounds and she wishes that he couldn’t see her like this. So weak. A superhero like him would probably laugh at her for being so weak. It’s not like she’s the one taking those punches. She wasn’t the one taking the beatings and saving the world. She just took the pain away.

“No you’re not. What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” Peter sounds so concerned, his eyes raking over her body looking for any signs of abuse.

“No, everything is fine, Peter.”

He squints his eyes at her, his sensitive hearing picking up her laborious breaths and small whimpers. “Who hurt you?” He jumps off of the couch ready to beat anyone that dared touch his precious …friend. Nothing else. Just a really good friend.

“No one, Pete, just… just forget about it okay? I’m fine.”

“Stop saying that! You’re in pain!” Peter frowns, visibly upset at the fact that she keeps lying to him. He thought they were close. He thought she trusted him. It hurts to know that she doesn’t.

“I’m used to it, it’s fine,” she mumbles, head plopping back into the couch. Peter’s brow furrows, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut.

“What do you mean you’re used to it?”

He watches her huff out a big breath before winching and clutching her ribs. The puzzle pieces finally click into place. It’s as if everything suddenly became clear with just one miniscule movement. Eyes widening, he strides over to her. Peter squats down to be level with her, his face dead serious.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone? It hurts you to use your powers, doesn’t it?”

Tears fall down her flushed cheeks, and she curses under her breath. They were bound to find out sooner than later, she had just hoped for the latter. “I was helping,” she whines, trying to prove her worthiness. She was doing something good, he can’t possibly get mad at her for that, can he?

“At the expense of yourself!” Peter yells, frustrated that he allowed her to take his pain and make it her own.

“Well, the pain has to go somewhere!” She fires back, angry that he isn’t grateful. After all she’s done she didn’t think he’d be yelling at her. She hasn’t done anything wrong. She helped them so much.

“You shouldn’t have to be in pain because of us,” he argues, standing to pace. All of this information changes things. How many times has she saved someone this week alone? How much pain must she be in? What has she had to silently suffer through?

“Give me my pain back,” Peter orders, not wanting her to have his pain anymore. Guilt weighs on his consciousness now that he knows she is feeling his fractured rib and concussion.

“That’s not how that works Peter.”

“God dammit! Why didn’t you tell us!”

Her eyes pop out of her head. She’s never heard him this upset before. He’s never been this angry. The fact that she caused it only makes her feel worse.

“Because I knew this would happen!” She cries. “I knew you guys would be mad and kick me out! I deserve a place here after everything I’ve done. I don’t want to leave!”

“You can’t keep taking other people’s pain,” he frowns, dead set on conveying this to her.

“Yes I can. I’m helping! I’m doing something good! Why don’t you understand that? Why can’t you appreciate the fact that I am willing to help you guys?”

“Because, you’re not supposed to get hurt doing it!”

“What is going on out here?” Steve, Bucky, Sam, Clint, and Natasha walk in having just finished training. She sends Peter a death glare, daring him to say anything.

Although he sees her intimidating stare, Peter doesn’t care. This has to end now.

“The pain doesn’t just go away,” he explains, “every time she heals us, the pain is transferred to her. She takes all the pain for us.”

Steve furrows his brows, his serious concerned mama bear face on. Crossing his arms and stepping forward, he asks, “is this true?”

“N-no! Of course not!” She lies. Her eyes flit around the people in the room, heart beating faster.

“She’s lying, she probably can’t even stand up right now because she is in so much pain,” Peter confidently states.

Narrowing her eyes at Peter, she swears to kill him in his sleep. How dare he tattle on her? “That’s not true! He’s making this all up,” she protests, trying to make her voice sound strong.

“Then stand up,” Natasha challenges, one of her perfect brows raising.

Cursing under her breath, she places a hand on the couch to try and push off the ground. Grimacing, she grits her teeth and tries to lift her body off the ground. Breathing heavily, she uses her other hand to try and get into a standing position. Whimpers, so quiet that only the enhanced are able to hear, escape from her as she struggles to stand.

Peter is by her side in an instant, not willing to watch her put herself through more pain. “That’s enough,” he mutters, fed up with her disregard for her own well-being. Why is she being so careless?

Steve frowns as he quietly talks to the people around him. She can feel his disappointed countenance chipping at her soul. He has that effect on people. She never wanted to disappoint her heroes. She can take it, she just needs some rest, and she’ll be fine.

“We can’t continue to let you heal us.” Is the verdict that Steve murmurs, upset by how long this has been going on. How could no one have noticed? How could they have been so careless as to think that the pain just magically went away?

He’s disappointed. Disappointed in himself for not noticing sooner, disappointed in himself for letting a mere kid take all of his pain and suffering that he should have just endured. Why did she never say anything?

“You’re released from duty,” Steve concludes, standing up to leave the room. He can’t stand looking at her, now knowing all of the pain he has caused her.

“Captain, please. Don’t do this! I was helping!” She protests with everything left in her. She doesn’t want to leave her family. She doesn’t want them to get hurt or die. Not when she has the ability to save them.

“Enough!” Steve bellows, stopping in his tracks. “You’re out of here, got it?”

Tears well up in her eyes and her lip starts to wobble. Steve had never used a tone like that with her before. It hurts. “So what? You’re just letting me go now that you have no use for me?”

Steve falters. That’s most certainly not what he meant.

“You’re just like my dad!”

A sentence that cuts deeper than any stab wounds he’s ever received. She’s told him about her home life, about her piece of shit father. And to be compared to him makes his soul break.

Calling out her name as she pushes past him, he desperately tries to right this wrong. She doesn’t stop, though. She keeps running, tears cascading down her face.

Running a hand through his hair, he curses. This is not how it should have panned out. All he wanted was to make sure that she’s safe and out of harm's way. He didn’t want to be the one to harm her. In fact, that’s the last thing he wanted to do. What, after all she’s been through, she deserves better.

“Let me,” Peter says, stopping Steve from running after her. Steve aquieses, figuring it would be better if he could calm down before talking to her. He’s just so upset that he’s been passing off his pain to a literal child. Okay, maybe she’s not a child, but she might as well be one for fucks sake.

“What do you want?” Peter cringes at her angered tone, a twinge of hurt underlying it. She still has tears in her eyes as she rushes to pack her clothes in a duffle she had sitting unused in her closet.

“Steve didn’t mean what he said. He’s upset that you lied to him—to all of us.”

She scoffs, harshly shoving the clothes in the bag. She whimpers, realising that probably wasn’t the best decision with all of the injuries she is dealing with right now. Peter rushes to have her in his arms. He sits down on the ground, gently pulling her with him. “You gotta stop hurting yourself, sweetheart.”

She grumbles in his arms, trying to get out of his grasp. Peter just shakes his head at how stubborn she is. She’ll be the death of him, he’s sure about that.

“Why do you care?” She mutters out, anger and resentment lacing her tone. She doesn’t want to believe that anyone can care about her. Whenever she thinks that, she always gets hurt. No one cares about her. The only reason people act nice to her is because they want to use her powers to heal themselves.

“Because… you’ve been hurting yourself for far too long,” he murmurs, relaxing his hold now that she isn’t trying to squirm away.

“I just want to be wanted,” her voice is muffled with the sound of her small cries. Tears stream down her face, and she curls up into Peter’s warm embrace. He sighs and runs his hand gently through her hair, careful not to make her headache worse.

“You are,” he speaks under his breath. “Everyone here genuinely cares for you in their own way. You are so important to me… to all of us.”

She muffles a sob against his shirt. “You… you don’t mean that…”

“I do. I mean every word of it. You matter to me. You matter so much.”

Peter keeps on mumbling little words of praise and encouragement as she falls asleep in his arms. He will let her know what she is worth. No matter how long it takes. She deserves the world.

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[wolviecat]

Got run over by a reindeer

Sometimes, he wasn’t sure how the Corruscant was still standing, with its lower levels crumbling under the weight of everything a bow it. It was either protected by some higher powers, or cursed to an eternal, unending decay. Lefty would guess second option. There were definitely some demons living here, and not all of them were senators.

For @amonthofwhump day 5

Corrie guard Lefty

#star wars #my art #fanart #Clone wars #corrie guard #clone oc #clone trooper oc