#febuwhump 2019

[adrenaline-whump]

Collection: Cadeverse Whumplets

These whumplets were inspired by a variety of prompts – Whumptober 2019 and 2020, Febuwhump 2022, and a few other individual prompts.  Many of these include doodles from the talented pen of @whumpadoodle! Prior to In the Wind:

Stab Wound – They say you might not even notice at first.

Recovery – Post-whump healing with a side of friendly mockery.

Run – Cade finds a bottle with his knee.

Secret Injury – Please don’t tell Hank.

Grief – A tragedy in Cade’s past. [CW: parent death]

Rescue – Who would win: two Memphis crooks, or Cade and one helpful stranger?

Stitches – You’re looking a little green, Cade.

Gunpoint – Sometimes the skip finds you.

Explosion – Wrong place, wrong time.

Disorientation – Post-explosion, Cade deals with ringing ears and suspicious cops.

Human Shield – It’s not stupid if it works.

Sticks and Stones – Donnie and Cade make a good team.

Blindness – The lights go out at the Orpheum.

Hospital – Cade would like to go home now.

  Between In the Wind and Wind Shear:

Fade to Sunrise - A necessary detour to South Carolina.

Hospital. Now. - Cade reluctantly follows Hank’s orders.

Tear-stained – Nightmares are the worst.

Shaky Hands – A stranger notices Cade’s not doing well.

Humiliation – Cade never talks about what happened...except to Liz.

Muffled Scream – The uncontainable rage at feeling broken.

Trembling – Cade tries to treat a panic attack with alcohol.

Used as an experiment - The alcohol experiment has predictable results.

No Anesthesia – Donnie has opinions about Cade’s behavior.

Asphyxiation – Trying to get a choke hold on Cade is NOT recommended.

Dragged Away – Moderation? I don’t know her.

Scars – This date is not going well. [CW: suicidal ideation]

“Stay with me” – Amy knows Cade needs to talk. (comfort followup to Scars)

Baby Steps – Desensitization is good, but proceed carefully.

  “Deleted scene” from Wind Shear (actually written later): Paranoia – It’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you.

  After Wind Shear: Exhaustion – It’s been a really long day.

Embrace – Fluffy comfort with Cade & Liz; recovery from trauma.

Talking is Overrated – Recovery from a virus; Liz is the best.

Migraine – Liz doesn’t mind playing caretaker...

Secrets - ...because sometimes she needs one too.

Scarf – Cade and Liz find a plot hook.

Gunpoint/Forced to Their Knees – Donnie takes a calculated risk.

Touch and Go – Sparring takes an unfortunate turn.

#cadeverse #cade #collection #whumplets #pinned post is updated now

[paramouradrift]

Voice loss

@febuwhump

Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender, Pairing: Zukka Modern AU in which Zuko is the captain of the fencing team

This fic is also up on AO3, and you can find it if you click here. Under the cut is just a preview, because self control? Who is she?

Katara found Sokka on his way from the library. He hadn’t slept at all the night before, and he felt just generally awful to be alive. Checking himself in the mirror that morning, he noticed big dark circles under his eyes and a few pimples forming on his cheeks, so at least he looked as gross as he felt. He waved to her as she strode towards him. “Hey, Katara—ow! Ow! What the hell!?” Instead of saying hi like a normal person, she grabbed and twisted his ear. “I should be asking you that, idiot,” she said, not releasing him. “I hung out with Suki last night, and do you know what she told me? She said Zuko told her you guys were dating. Not friends with benefits—dating. But then I hear that you danced with Ty Lee and some math major for like two hours at the party yesterday. A math major, Sokka! You’d better have a damn good explanation for all of this.” “Alright! Alright! Just, let go of my ear first!” Sokka pleaded. Katara released him and crossed her arms, her expression unimpressed, and entire stance daring him to say something stupid. He rubbed his ear, glaring at her. “That really hurt, you know.” “You’re getting off lightly, I think,” Katara said. “Why did you lie to me about your relationship with Zuko?” “I didn’t!” Sokka squawked. “We just, you know…haven’t really…talked about it. I mean, labels can be so restrictive—hey! No! Stop!” Katara went for his ear again, and he managed to bat her hands away with his art history textbook. They ended up in a stalemate, with Sokka pointing his book at her like it was a weapon, and Katara facing him down like his idiocy was punishable by death and she would be his executioner. “Look,” she said, putting a hand to her brow and relaxing her stance. “I wouldn’t be mad about this if you didn’t drag half of our friends into this mess. Suki was heartbroken, and Zuko apparently drank himself sick last night. Get your shit together, Sokka.” “I’m going to!” Sokka said. “I’m just…I’m not ready to be out or anything. I don’t even know what I’d be out as. I talked to Zuko about it, and he agreed to help me get ahead of any rumors that might spread because of, you know. The kiss.” “Sokka, I don’t know how to tell you this, but it’s 2019, and you’re in college,” Katara said. “Nobody cares if you’re gay or not, and even if they did you’d have the entire fencing team behind you. You’re friends with Toph, who can take down most football players single-handedly.” “That’s easy for you to say,” Sokka said. “You’re not the one who has to live with it.” “No, I don’t,” Katara said. “I just have to live with you and your messes.” Sokka sighed. She was right. “I’ll talk to Suki,” he said. “And I’ll fix things with Zuko.” “Great,” Katara said, patting him threateningly on the shoulder. “See that you do.” He eventually found Zuko sitting with Suki on a long couch in a lounge in the student union. They were talking in low voices, and the bits of conversation Sokka overheard made him duck for cover before they could spot him. “Anyway, I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Suki said. “I had no idea it was like that.” “I’m sorry, too,” Zuko said, his voice incredibly hoarse. He had a tall takeaway cup of tea in his hand that he took a sip from. “How are you holding up?” Suki asked. “How do you think?” Zuko replied, almost too quiet for Sokka to hear. He coughed. “I feel like shit.” “Physically or emotionally?” Suki asked with an amused snort. Sokka didn’t hear Zuko’s reply, but Suki got up to leave shortly after. He snuck out of the lounge and then doubled back so it would look like he had just walked in. “Oh, Suki, hi,” he said, louder than strictly necessary. “Hey, Sokka,” she said, regarding him with mild suspicion. “Can we talk?” (Continued on AO3...)

#febuwhump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday9 #atla #fanfic #zukka #angst

[whumpncomfort]

Febuwhump Day 5: That's Gonna Scar

marriage story (2019)

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday5 #cut #blood #faint #blood loss #collapse #marriage story #adam driver

[autobot2001]

Found Footage

Author: Autobot2001 Genre: Fanfiction Fandom: Transformers Rating: E Warnings: None Pairing: None Description: Prowl wants to watch the footage of the day Jadin betrayed her friends.

@febuwhump Day 16; found footahe

Prowl is unsure why today he thinks he needs to find specific footage. The video still exists in the video archives. Prowl doesn't know when the betrayal occurred, except after the scrap with Sentinel and before 2019 when Jadin attempted to kill Jamie. Bumblebee argues that happened long after Jadin betrayed her friends. Prowl could ask Jamie, Jayce, or J.R., but he doesn't want to bring painful memories back unintentionally. He doesn't think Bumblebee, Crosshairs, Drift, or Hound know the specific date, but they watched Jamie come close to dying. The Autobots call it the nightmare situation. "What are you looking for?" Red Alert asks. Not expecting Prowl to be looking for specific footage, "why? That glitch caused long-lasting trauma for Crosshairs, Drift, Jayce, and J.R. to where I think it's good Jayce and J.R. haven't been here in a few years. It's bad enough watching Crosshairs and Drift worry about Jamie." "I don't know why." "That's not like you." "I know." Red Alert stays in Prowl's office while Prowl searches the system.

Prowl finally finds the footage just as Crosshairs and Drift walk into the room. "Uh, we can come back later," Drift says. "Is there a problem?" Prowl asks. While hoping to hide the video he found, Prowl presses play instead. Immediately, the expression on Crosshairs' and Drift's faces turns to horror as they hear Jadin's voice. Red Alert explains that Prowl sought for the footage of Jadin's betrayal. "N-no, y-you don't want to watch that," Drift warns. Prowl and Red Alert rush to get Crosshairs and Drift out of Prowl's office.

They go to Optimus' office next door until the two are calm. The two security officers are relieved that Crosshairs and Drift calm quickly. Prowl still wants to watch the footage. Red Alert joins him.

The footage ends ten minutes later. Prowl and Red Alert can't believe what they just watched. "No one else is to watch this," Prowl orders Red Alert, "I want this moved to a hard drive and hidden. I don't think Optimus has seen this, and I intend to keep it that way." "Right, knowing Jadin betrayed the three femmes and is trying to kill Jamie is hard enough."

#transformers #transformers fanfiction #transformers autobots #transformers prowl #transformers red alert #transformers crosshairs #transformers drift #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #day 16 #found footage #a day in the past #betrayal #shouldn't have watched

[totallynotlx]

ㄑ𝓀𝑜𝓃𝓃𝒾𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓎𝒶~﹒⟢﹒

Hi! I'm Lixia! You may call me Lili or Lixia, whatever works for you! I'm just a lil meow meow that likes to write sometimes... well, whenever I hyperfixate on something anyways lmao

I sometimes tend to lurk around and not post every once in a while but don't worry, I'm here, it's just the introvert in me showing. Feel free to browse what I have so far tho!

SATO X SUGU X YOU FAMILY DYNAMICS

RATIOMEI THOUGHTS

ㄑ𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 ﹒⟢﹒

​GOJO​ ​SATORU​

ㄑ𝑜𝓁𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝓃𝑒-𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓉𝓈﹒⟢﹒

SOKAI WEEK 2019

​XION APPRECIATION WEEK​

​​TERRAQUA MUSIC PROMPT: LITTLE BIRD

​FEBUWHUMP 2021

THE SUBJECT - PHOTOGRAPHER!NANAMI ONE-SHOT

ㄑ𝓷𝓮𝔀𝓮𝓻 𝑜𝓃𝑒-𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓉𝓈﹒⟢﹒

​​TAKE ME WITH YOU - SHORT ANGSTY GOJO PROMPT

BENEFACTOR​​​ - ​SHORT ANGSTY DAD!GOJO & FUSHIGURO SIBLINGS (MAINLY MEGUMI) PROMPT

ㄑ𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓲-𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼﹒⟢﹒

BAKUGO OMEGAVERSE MINI-SERIES: THE APLHA & THE OMEGA​​​

​**THE ALPHA IS ONLY LINKED ON THE POST

PLAYING HOUSE IN THE RUINS OF US

CHAPTER 1: ENCOUNTERS OVER DRINKS

CHAPTER 2: ???? → RELEASING SOON!

​PLAYING HOUSE TEASERS​​

Credits to cafekitsune for the dividers!

#﹒📜﹒﹙lixia's masterlist﹚﹒ ⊹﹒

[viva-la-whump]

Happy first day of FebuWhump everyone! And yes, I AM doing my fourth whump challenge in less than a year help me

So these will probably be a bit shorter than the ones I’ve done before because, um, I value my sanity? But who knows what’ll happen???

Read and find out!!

#whump #febuwhump #febuwhump 2019 #love me if you dare #cdrama #fanfic #my work #hurt/comfort #h/c #mind control #physical whump #psychological whump #hypnosis #psychotherapy #angst #shot #self sacrifice #crying #blood #unconscious #protectiveness

[stevie-steven-stevington]

Febuwhump Day 22: regret

Fandom: MCU Characters: Peter Parker, Happy Hogan Category: Gen Rating: T Warnings: none Words: 1.6k

read on ao3 

first | previous | next

this literally has no plot lol but i’m sleepy. also i haven’t seen the iron man series in like 2372 years so my characterization is entirely based on hoco bye

this one goes out to @parkrstark, who suggested doing something with happy and peter :)

The kid’s annoying.

It’s a fact. The kid talks too much, too fast, and it’s annoying. That’s just how it is. He wishes that was a good excuse for ignoring the calls. And the texts. And the incessant, unnecessarily long voicemails. He wishes he'd kept a closer eye on the kid because then maybe he wouldn't have missed his own Homecoming to fight his date's dad. He wishes his negligence hadn't indirectly caused a world of trauma for a high school sophomore. He can't fix it now, but he can at least try to make amends. Peter seems like a pretty forgiving kid. 

He starts out small. Proper greetings when Peter gets into the backseat of the car, asking him how school was, letting him ramble on about decathlon practice or chemistry or his friends or...whatever he's talking about. Happy's not really listening, but he hasn't put up the divider either. Progress. He can almost think of Peter's voice as background noise, if he focuses hard enough on the road. Peter doesn't seem to need much input from him, anyway, so as long as he gives a hum or a nod every once in a while, the kid's content to just talk. Happy drives and Peter talks. And it works. Peter's smiling, so that's something. Guilt still gnaws at his insides, even as Peter chatter animatedly about the new LEGO set his best friend, whose name Happy can't remember, just got. They're not close, not by a long shot, but they're okay enough.

After Germany, Peter usually calls Tony when there's a problem. Tony is mentoring him now, something Happy never thought he'd live to see - Tony Stark with a kid. Not because he didn't think Tony would be good with a kid, but because he never thought Tony would settle enough to have one. Which, technically, he still hasn't, but who is he kidding? Most of the calls he gets from Peter, now, are just patrol reports. He doesn't give them every time anymore, but Tony insists that he still gives them whenever something major or out of the ordinary happens. After Germany, Happy listens to every voicemail. No matter how long, how uninteresting, how tangential, Happy listens to all of them. Sometimes Peter actually has a cool story or a funny anecdote - the time he fought a guy in a hot dog costume who tried to steal cash from a taco stand because he was bitter that their mascot had a better suit than him sticks out. Other times, it's just Peter telling him about how he helped a kid find her dog or something in that vein. It's sort of endearing, in a way. The voicemails, as much as he hates to admit it, are nice to listen to. And it's nice to get an update, outside of the weekly lab visits, on how Peter's doing. It's nice to get semi-regular confirmation that the kid is, in fact, still alive. He brings up a story from one of the more recent voicemails one day, because Peter got cut off by his aunt in the middle of his retelling, and Happy's kind of curious as to what came next. "Hey, what happened with that guy you were following the other day? The one you thought was stalking that girl." Peter stops in the middle of his sentence. There's a level of surprise on his face that Happy doesn't like. "I - what?" Glancing between the road and Peter in the rearview mirror, Happy says, "From the voicemail. Last...Tuesday, I think? Something like that." Peter's mouth opens and closes like a fish for a solid twenty seconds. Happy's starting to wonder if he said something wrong when Peter practically chokes out, "You - you listen to the voicemails?" It's a fair question. Happy hates that it is, but it's fair. He's not shocked that Peter still assumes he doesn't listen to the patrol reports, because he didn't before and letting the kid ramble in the car isn't going to change Peter's whole perception of him. He didn't do it right the first time, but he'll get it the second time around. He's not going to let the kid down again. "Yeah, I listen to them," he says, gruffly. Peter nods slowly in the backseat, eyes wide. There's way too much awkwardness going on here. "So are you gonna finish the story?" "O-oh, yeah, sure. So it turns out he was stalking her..."

It's not until Peter steps into the car with possibly the saddest look Happy has ever seen on anyone other than Tony or Rhodey that their relationship really clicks. Peter slides into the backseat, unceremoniously dropping his backpack at his feet, and promptly leans his head against the window and closes his eyes without so much as a hello. Wrong. There's so much wrong here and he haven't even started driving yet. "The hell happened to you?" Happy asks, realizes belatedly that maybe he should've waited for Peter to speak up. Or just let him talk to Tony instead, since they're actually close. Or at least been a little more gentle about asking. Too late now. Bleary eyes drag over to him. The kid picks at a loose thread on his jeans and mumbles, "Nothing. M'fine." "And I'm Iron Man." He gets no reaction. Jesus. "Kid. Did someone say something to you? Or is this like - like a PTSD thing or -" "What do you care?" There's no real bite to it. Just tired resignation. It might be worse. Peter's not even angry about it - Happy wonder, sometimes, if anger is even in Peter's vocabulary - he's just accepted that Happy doesn't like him and never will. God, he's an asshole. He doesn't not like the kid. He's never really not liked the kid. Peter's annoying, yes, and likely will never stop being annoying, but it's in the same way that a younger brother is annoying. Like whenever he speaks, Happy wants him to shut up, but when he actually does, it feels like something's missing. He didn't get that part, before, because Peter never actually did seem to shut up, but he gets it now. And he does care. He never wanted to, but the kid's grown on him. Apparently, he's good at that. "Peter - look, I'm sorry for not answering your calls," he says, and he really is. "I'm sorry I didn't take you seriously. I know I've been a dick, but I'm...trying to make up for it, okay? So if you don't want to tell but, then fine, whatever, but you - you can, if you want." He's met with silence. Okay. He deserves this. Happy puts the car in drive and pulls out of the school parking lot. Regret stirs in his stomach once again.

They're halfway through the drive when Peter says, "There's this guy at school." He leaves it hanging there, still staring out the window as the city flies by outside. Happy's not quite sure if guy at school means a bully or a crush, but the way Peter says it has him leaning toward bully. "Uh huh?" Happy prompts, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. He's always hated having people stare at him when he's upset. Peter doesn't speak for another two minutes. Happy's starting to think he's not going to when he slows to a stop at a red light and Peter pulls away from the window. "He's an asshole. He - he calls me Penis Parker and says I'm not smart enough to be on the decathlon team and acts like I ran over his dog just because I'm a starter and he's not." Does starter mean the same thing on decathlon as it does in sports? Probably. Happy doesn't really think the specifics are that important here anyway. Now that he's thinking about it, he's pretty sure Tony mentioned something about Peter having a bully once or twice before. "I can talk to him if you want. Man-to-man." "No. Christ, why do you and Mr. Stark both jump to scaring the shit out of a high schooler?" "Because we both know you won't." Peter scoffs, somewhere between indignant and exasperated. "That's not even - it's not even that big of a deal. He's a jerk, yeah, but it's not a big thing." "The look on your face when you got in the car said otherwise," Happy says, before he can think better of it. He doesn't want to push too hard and make Peter shut down, but again, it's a little too late. Thankfully, Peter just sighs, fingers running through his hair. "I - it was just something he said earlier. I was already a little on edge today, and he...went a little too far. But I'm okay, Happy, really. You don't have to - I mean, I know you have better things to do than worry about me anyway, but -" "I do worry about you. You have no regard for your own well-being, it's terrifying." "I -" "You're like another Tony, except Tony's a grown ass adult and you're like - fun-sized." "I am not -" "You're tiny and have no sense of self-preservation, of course I worry about you." "I didn't get in this car so you could insult me," Peter says, but he's smiling. There's still a sad tinge to his eyes, but he's smiling. "I'm not insulting you, only stating facts." "Lies. Lies and slander." Happy laughs. "Sure, kid. Whatever you say." The guilt doesn't lessen. But he thinks they're on the road to recovery.

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2019 #febuwhump day 22 #tbh i feel like trash right now so if this one is shit then like. sucks ig idk man #marvel #mcu #spiderman homecoming #peter parker #happy hogan #whump #angst #jude writes #text #mine #long post

[kurojiri]

Over the ledge

Fandom: Young Justice Pairing: Wally West/ Dick Grayson Summary: He was alive, that had to mean something. It had to. Prompt Used: Coma A/N: AU where Wally didn’t die but went to a Coma Word Count: 501 Or read on ao3 or ffnt

There had been days when Dick had thought: maybe this will be the day. When he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from plummeting. To be utterly defeated while finding himself living in a world without his heart.

Dick Grayson had always wanted to believe that he was optimistic, that the superhero world would not destroy them all. He had been a fool, a very naïve hero despite the years of training and experience he had been given. The ways he coped may have been not all that healthy, but Dick had survived since he had been named Robin. Then Nightwing. He had always made himself a support system. One that kept him grounded.

It had worked. Made him see a window to jump into. And one of his favorite contacts had been Wally West, his best friend. They had danced around it, made a game of it when they poorly disguised their feelings, and in some strange reality and push, they had confessed. Eventually. And embarrassingly so cheesy.

They didn’t date right away. Life happened to be very turbulent, Wally stopped being a hero, and the bat family was broken and hurriedly put back into place. (But the cracks had still shown themselves.) So many things changed, but what didn’t was how Wally had still stuck into his life. That had been enough for Dick at the time. Even without the extra pushing of dating.

It had almost seemed that maybe one day it would be nice to reflect. To have a moment even, for Dick and Wally to try it. That had been all what he wanted a day—a moment, and breath to attempt. He didn’t think it had been a selfish request. And it shouldn’t have been.

But when that day happened Dick had thought he lost him. He couldn’t even describe that day without breaking. With his body crumpled. Unmoving. That had made the world seem dimmer. They all had rushed to save him and after hours later Wally had been officially marked as a coma patient. It hadn't meant that he was dead.

(Though, that still didn’t help Dick either when he looked at Wally pale. Not laughing, not joking but silent, and practically still in his sleep. Dick had to listen to the heart monitor to know he wasn’t gone.)

He didn’t recall the first week of visiting. Dick just stayed there when he could, ate when he had been forced to. And just sit there waiting for him to wake up. Being in a coma did not mean he was dead. But it had also meant that time was still moving forward without him. They were all progressing, while Wally just stayed in bed.

It may have been not healthy in that first week. But he had slowly started to pull himself back. Because he knew that Wally would have wanted him to do. Even if, it had been hard to walk away from the room. Wally would wake up.

He had to.

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2019 #Dick Grayson #Wally West #dickwally #birdflash #fic: 501-999 #canon divergence #au: where wally went into a coma #Otl: Over the ledge

[thecattenofcoffee]

Febuwhump Day Three: Taken

As soon as Jameson woke up, he noticed three things. One, it felt like someone had put a hammer to the inside of his skull. Two, he couldn’t see anything. And three, the gag in his mouth tasted bloody awful and it was pointless.

As soon as JJ was fully awake, he tried to get his bearings, quickly finding out that his hands were tied behind his back and his feet were tied together. He could tell that he was on some sort of stone flooring and that he was inside, as he couldn’t feel a breeze of any sort or hear either birds or crickets chirping. He could also tell that he was no longer wearing his hat.

“Oh bugger.” the gentleman thought to himself.

While gently twisting his wrists to test how tight the rope was and see if he could get it untied, he heard angry voices and footsteps approaching. He immediately stilled, hoping to learn more about his kidnappers before they knew he was awake. Both voices were male, he could tell, and one had heavier foot falls than the other.

“I can’t believe ya grabbed the wrong fucking person!” a higher pitched male voice said. An older sounding gentleman growled back, “It’s not my fault they all nearly look fucking identical! The only thing different about them is that they wear! The Boss better be glad I was able to even snag this one, the hero nearly saw me!” the way the older sounding  man spat out the word ‘hero’ made JJ’s skin crawl. Were they talking about Jackie?

The man with a higher voice growled in annoyance. “Whateva. Hopefully the Boss doesn’t mind we snagged this one instead of the stupid magician. We need to wake ‘im up and question ‘im. Hopin’ he ain’t retarded like the purple haired one we tried to snag ages ago.”

“Robbie? What would they want with him-” JJ’s thought process was cut off by a hefty kick to his stomach. A silent groan left his mouth as he immediately curled in on himself.

“Oi! Shithead! Wake up.” the male with a higher voice said as JJ was pulled to his feet. He would have collapsed again it wasn’t for the large hand holding him roughly by the forearm. He felt a hand brush against the top of his head before whatever was preventing him from seeing was roughly torn off, taking some of his hair with it. He flinched and blinked rapidly to try to make his eyes adjust faster to the very bright lights in the room.

The gentleman, if you wished to call him that, in front of Jameson was a lot shorter than him, which took him aback. He wasn’t that tall himself, but he knew better than to judge by appearances. He couldn’t see the other man, but that was mostly because he was standing behind him and JJ didn’t dare turn his head away from the man in front of him. His eyes did, however, quickly scan the room around and behind the man in front of him. He took note of the high windows’ and how the only door he could see was very far behind the short man in front of him.

The short man smiled with a crazy gleam in his eye. “Ah, smarter than most. Immediately looked for escape routes, didn’t cha?” JJ just stared at him harshly. “That’s quite a powerful glare you got there, and if it weren’t for that our employer wanted ye whole, I would cut those eyes right outta ya skull.” The man growled. Jameson’s eyes widened. “Good, you’re sensible as well. Now, Imma take this gag outta your mouth and better answer every single question I ask ya as quickly as possible or your gonna be in a world of hurt. Our Boss wants whole, but he doesn’t mind a little broken, do you understand me?” JJ hesitated before nodding. He had a sinking feeling that these two weren’t going to be happy about him being mute.

The tiny man smiled, it wasn’t a pleasant look on his face. “Great. Now be a good boy, and maybe you’ll be traded off with only mild bruising.” The man nodded to the other one, and JJ felt as the older gentleman slid the gag forward over the top of his head before removing it from his mouth and throwing it to the side. Jameson had to fight trying to spit out the horrible after taste the gag left in his mouth, knowing that the man before him would probably take it the wrong way and strike him.

“Now,” the small man said, “what is your name, pretty boy?” JJ hesitated, he didn’t really want these men to know the manner in which he spoke, but if they had been looking to kidnap Marvin instead of him, he highly doubted it would matter.

“My name is Jameson Jackson.” the speech slide clearly startled the both of them, judging by the small mans face and how the larger one had tried to jerk himself backwards, twisting JJ’s arm uncomfortably, but he tried not to show the pain it had caused him, besides a slight grimace.

“What the fuck is this!? You a fuckin wizard to, eh!” the smaller man didn’t seem pleased. “And why the hell aren’t you fuckin speakin’ normally? We took the gag offa ya!”

JJ tried not to flinch at the man’s tone. “No, I’m afraid that I am not a wizard, and I can’t speak normally. I’m afraid to say that I can’t talk.” The smaller man sneered. He obviously was not pleased.

“Of fuckin course you grabbed a mute.” he growled under his breath. “What the fuck even are the things you are using to communicate?” He sounded genuinely curious. JJ shifted uncomfortably. The man’s hold on his arm had grown tighter, and it was starting to hurt.

“I believe my family calls them ‘speech slides’, it’s the only way I can communicate with them without using sign language.” Jameson said with a frown.

“Wait, you said communicate, does that mean you can talk to them from here?!” the older man said panicked. JJ’s eyebrows furrowed.

“No, only those in my presence can see the slides.” JJ felt so confused. Why did these people want with him, or Marvin for that matter?

The shorter man’s face went blank. “I don’t believe you. Mickey, break his arm.”

JJ’s eyes widened, “Wait- AAAHHHHH!” his mouth flew open, but nothing escaped. Mickey, apparently that's what the older man was called, just let him fall to the floor after breaking his forearm. JJ curled in on himself while staying on his knees. Heavy breaths left his mouth and he felt tears streaming down his face, but he still tried to remain calm.

“Don’t cha ever lie to me again, you got that?” the short man said. “And I don’t want to see even a glimpse of one of the slide things, ya hear?” JJ weakly nodded. “Good. Now stay down, the Boss should be arriving in a few hours.” the man said, before kicking him across the face and laughing as he landed on his broken arm harshly. If he could of gasped he would, but for now he just rolled onto his side and mouthed curses he’d heard his brothers say, even if they were extremely foul.

“Marvin, Jackie, please find me.” JJ thought desperately as he blacked out from the pain.

#youtube #jameson jackson #marvin the magnificent #jackieboyman #robbie the zombie #febuwhump 2019

[whump-my-dear-watson]

Febuwhump day #5 “Major Character Death”

Fandom: Daredevil (TV) Characters: Matt Murdock, Foggy Nelson, Karen Page Word Count: 726 Warnings: as the title includes, a major character death. Summary: (Takes place during the end of IW) Tragedy happens to so many people, but you never expect that it will happen to you.  A/N: Wow, look who’s back with more Daredevil Febuwhump! Am I still salty that Daredevil wasn’t in Infinity War? I think this lil one-shot says it all. 

“Matt, Matt, somethings wrong.”

Matt looked up at his friend, he could smell the fear oozing off of him. Matt’s fist clenched into a fist on instinct, as he did a quick sonar sweep of his surroundings, no intruders. Matt and Foggy were sitting in his living room after everything happening in the city it seemed that the alien attackers have gone. Foggy was helping bandage up Matt, he made it out with just a few scratches surprisingly.

“What’s wrong Foggy?

He could feel his friend starting to hyperventilate, as he struggled to form words.

“My...my hands,” Foggy’s whole body shook as he looked down at his own body.

Matt tried to focus on Foggy. On what was wrong. What he could ‘see’. His findings just made no sense. Nothing was making sense, everything happening so quickly, Matt could feel Foggy’s presence fade and shrink. Matt reached out towards his friend, his hand hitting Foggy’s solid arm, it changed. From his solid flesh, it melted into flaky ashes.

Then he was gone.

It’s fine. Everything's fine. Foggy’s okay.  He has to be. Matt stood up in his living room, it had never felt so empty before. Where was Foggy? Why couldn’t he hear his heartbeat? His breathing rhythm, the smell of his cologne, the feel of the vibrations of his walk, his voice.

Matt spun around in circles desperate to find an answer. Maybe it was just his powers messing with him. Who said they would last forever? Somewhere deep inside Matt knew that it was more than that, it was something too awful to even entertain.  

“Foggy,” he said, his voice no louder than a whisper.

Matt swallowed and ran out of his apartment to the street, all over he could hear wailing and pain, the world was out of control.

Matt’s chest rose and fell with his growing anxiety, fumbling he got out his phone, he dialed Karen’s number, an overwhelming wave of relief pass over him when she answered.

“Matt, you’re okay! How’s Fog-”

“What’s happening? Karen, what’s happening to everyone?”

“Um, no one knows why yet, but all over the world, people are just...disappearing.

“Where? Where are they going? Do you think it’s the...do you think it’s the rapture?”

“I, no, Matt, no one really knows yet, but there are so many accounts of missing, a lot of people are theorizing it’s something to do with the alien invasion.”

“So they’re really gone. Everyone that disappears is just, gone.” Matt’s voice dropped, as he slowly came to terms with the realization.

His phone fell out of his hand, cracking against the asphalt street. Matt didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything.

“Matt! Matt!” Karen's distressed voice still audible from the fractured phone, he couldn’t answer it. He couldn’t talk to her, not now.

Foggy.

Matt’s face contorted into one of pain as his eyes welled up with tears, his chin trembling uncontrollably. Matt sunk down the ground beside his phone, kneeling there in the middle of the street Matt didn’t care what happened to him.

Foggy was the best thing that had ever happened to him. How he had survived until meeting him in college Matt didn’t even know. Foggy is what kept him sane, he was the one who stood by his side but also talked sense into him. He’s what kept him from falling into a dark place that he wouldn’t be able to get out of, Foggy was his supporter, his rock, and now he was gone.

Matt let out another sob, Foggy didn’t deserve this. All he ever did was try to help people, why had he gotten punished?

Matt slammed his hand into the ground. “It should have been me!” he screamed to no one, to everyone. “It should have been me,”

A hollow Matt rose from the ground when normally he feels so much, now he felt nothing. Not pain, not love, everything was gone.

Matt knew that he should be better, for Karen, for Maggie, but somewhere deep inside him, he had made a decision. A decision that he would die trying for. A decision that he would kill for. Without Foggy as his moral compass, he might lose himself, but he had already lost everything. Matt swore on all that is good in this world, he would succeed.

He was going to get revenge.

#am i insisting that matt kills thanos #maybe maybe #febuwhump #day 5 #febuwhump 2019 #major character death #matt murdock #foggy nelson #karen page #daredevil #marvel #mcu #thanos mention #infinity war #au #kinda #this is how i picture it went in iw #but since they are a bunch of cowards #we didnt get it #i love matt #i really do #it may not seem like it #also #as a catholic boy #i think matt would really think of the rapture right off the bat #i mean #a sweet angel like foggy disappears and its only logical to think hes in heaven now #but then thats sad to think that matt didnt go #or karen #ok i rambling

[lildevyl]

FebuWhump Day 7: Imprisoned

A/N:  Okay I know I’m little late for this prompt but I wanted to get it out.  Also, this idea has been in my head for a quite a while.  I’m actually thinking and contemplating when I polish this story idea up a bit to make canon/head canon for my boys.  So, here’s a look at my version of “Corrupted”/Evil Marvin.  HAPPY WRINGING!!!   Oh!  And enjoy the show!!

Marvin was in his dressing room taking deep breaths to calm himself.  His hair was laid by his shoulders and he for once he didn't have his trade mark mask on.  Marvin was extremely nervous tonight.  For tonight was the night!  Marvin finally did it!  He was going to be a big shot!  No more just renting out theaters or children's parties (actually he quite enjoy those, he might still do them) but finally he was going to make it big!  Tonight his show would be broadcast all across Egopolclypse!  All over Septic City!  All over Ipliers!  All over each and every town and city of every Ego would be watching him tonight!  Which was why he was so nervous.  He didn't want to screw it up!

Both Jackie and Silver had triple assured him that there was no need to fret. There was absolutely no sign of the glitch anywhere and for once.  Darkiplier actually agreed to be somewhat civil tonight.  That was as close to as a compliment that Marvin would get from the man.  He actually gave his word that he would not interfere.  So, Silver asked Wilfred a favor as to not do anything. Surprisingly, Wilfred actually agree.  Silver said that both Dark and Will wanted to see how the show would go so they would not interfere tonight.  At least that helped calmed Marvin's nerves a bit.

Taking several more deep breaths and remembering his breathing exercises, Marvin began to calm down.  He opened his eyes, and then noticed a package on his desk.  'When did this get here?'  Marvin wondered looking around his dressing room noticing all the gifts, chocolates and flowers that many fans and admirers sent him.  'Must not of noticed it with everything else here,' Marvin concluded.

Taking the package Marvin saw that it was wrapped in septic green wrapping paper with beautiful midnight blue ribbon on it.  There was card on the package as well.

May tonight go out with bang!  ­- Naes.  It read.  That was an odd phrase, maybe the person didn't know how to express themselves too well.  Marvin decided to open the wrap package and what found inside took his breath way.

Inside the package amongst all the tissue paper was hand made mask.  It looked like his trademark one but this one shimmered and shined!  It made out white porcelain with white zircon gems all around the porcelain.  The inside of the ears had pear green peridot.  The nose, the heart and diamond were made out of red garnet.  The whiskers, spade and clubs were made out of black spinel. Marvin was over joyed!  He couldn't believe that a fan went through this much work and detail for him!

Marvin couldn't help it.  He had to put it on, now.  Go out there with this new mask and show the world how magnificent he truly was.  Not only that but Marvin would be able to show how much he actually admires and appreciates the gift.  Marvin adores and admires each and every one of his fans and this way he could them just how much the truly mean to him.  By showing off their creative work to the world!

Marvin took the mask out of the box and put it on.  Tying the large black gleaming stings behind his head.   Then the pain started.  Burning, suffocation pain!  Marvin screamed and tried to rip the mask off but he couldn't get it off. The Corruption bled into his skin.  The corrupted magic went through his veins making them dark purple to black.  Up to his eyes, changing their color from bright green to dark violent purple.  His bright lushes hair now, a stringy dark green with a blood red ribbon tying his hair back.  His once majestic outfit now, a dark velvety red dress shirt, black pressed pants with purple sparkles.  His midnight blue cape with the stars and moon, now shimmering black with a bright red inside.

When Marvin was able to breath and get a hold of himself he looked in to the mirror and smiled.

"No, no, no!  What have you done!"  Marvin screamed and pounded on mirror.

"Oh, now this is truly a nice turn of events," He said.  "Now let's see how you like being imprisoned, Marvin?  After all you imprisoned me in your mind for years now!  Oh, but I almost forgot.  Tonight's the big night, isn't it?"

"NO!  DON'T!!!  I'm begging you!"  Marvin pleaded, tears beginning to escape his eyes at shear thought of him in front of everyone.  In front of cameras with full control of his magic no less!

"Oh, don't worry Marvin," He assured.  "It will truly and surely be ah - MAZE - ing!"  Maze said flipping his top hat on and strolling to the door.  Before he left, he picked up a cane with a red jewel on the top and gave Marvin a sinister evil smile.  Then he went out the door to perform his greatest trick.

Okay so I just wanted to let you all know.  This idea came from @septic-dr-schneep mind control/possession head canon when Marvin in her universe had gotten possessed, mind controlled by AntiSepticeye.  Maze is based off the Evil!Marvin character by @kisstheashes.  I saw one of her fics with Goretober and practically fell in love with that version.  So, @kisstheashes, I hope you don’t mind me borrowing the idea and using my own interpretation of that character.

Tagging:  @septic-dr-schneep, @starlightxnightmare, @huffletrax, @shadowsonthemoon, @huffletrax, @dolphintreasureart, @the-scribe-speaks, @kisstheashses, @fear-is-nameless

#corrupted!marvin #maze #marvin the magnificent #febuwhump #febuwhump 2019 #i think i'm going to make this canon #when i polish this idea and story up #possible backstory for marvin #going to make this canon #canon #head canon

[citrineleaf]

Yet another Player fic, this time for Febuwhump!

TRIGGER WARNINGS IN THE TAGS!

Summary:

"A pleasant little blip sounded off from one of his devices, signaling that the decryption program had finished its job. “I’ve almost got it,” He reported, the smile on his face turning more genuine,” Just hold them off for a little longer, and I can finish-”

Player doesn’t get to finish his sentence. "

Alternatively, Player just wants to help his friends. But nothing's ever that easy,

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday1 #febuwhump2022 #concussion #whump #violence #blood #Carmen Sandiego #Carmen Sandiego 2019 #CS 2019 #Carmen Sandeigo #Carmen Sandeigo 2019 #Carmen Sandiego Fanfic #CS fanfic #Carmen Sandiego Player #CS Player #Player CS #player bouchard

[syrupness]

New instalment for my series!

@febuwhump Day 15 Prompt: hidden scars

Cold As The Wind That Blows [AO3]

Summary: For something to do in hospital, Casey reminisces about her scars. The ones that are visible and the ones that are not.

Content warning: healing major injury, hospital (and morphine drip) implied/referenced child abuse, sexual abuse, assault causing injury scars, slurs/swearing

Her bruises were almost gone, back to pale skin with just some odd yellow patches as if parts of her had jaundice. The wounds from surgery were still bandaged and healing but she’d seen when they changed the dressings. They would make interesting new star-bursts of scars. Currently new and pink, embellished with pale green stitches, they would shrink and harden over time. She had seen the process many times, and really, what were a few more scars to her?

Tiny lines of white scratched their way up her arms and legs, while cigarettes and beer bottles were memorialised on her shoulders and belly. Casey brushed her hand over her hip remembering the football game that John lost money on. He’d broken the bottle before throwing it at her and the waistband of her jeans had stopped most of the damage. Most… but not all. Only some  shiny patches remained as a reminder, yet she could recall every moment of that jagged glass heading for her. It had spun seemingly in slow motion, catching the light on it’s wet dark brown surface, one full revolution before it reached her.

Such tiny marks but there was so much more to them. The visible was just the tip of the iceberg.

Ice…cold. Ice-cold.

A bitter laugh escaped her mouth as she realised her worst scars hadn’t even left visible marks. Casey had suddenly remembered when John called her frigid. She hadn’t known then what the word meant, she just knew her mind was trying to go away from her body and he hadn’t liked that. It was just a slap, nothing to leave a mark, but it had forced her back into herself. Forced her back into feeling what was happening, and to keep feeling for all the nights after. The police had photographed a catalogue of her mended flesh but that tormented process  had missed this, all these other deep scars.

Frigid bitch. It had taken a few years before she worked out what the words meant and now Casey wondered what other people would think of her. Was she actually frigid, or was she something else? When other people heard her story would they try to understand and would they agree with John? Would they look at the scars that weren’t visible, the scars that were kept hidden and had to be spoken to be seen, or would they turn away in rejection and disgust? She shivered and realised she was… afraid. Casey had thought she had learned all the ways a person could feel fear but this was a new one. To have all her experiences recorded and documented, openly vulnerable to people she didn’t know, strangers picking through and judging her.  

Casey reached for the button attached to her morphine drip. Delving into the past would keep bringing up more trauma, more nightmares, and she needed to sleep. The medication would get the thoughts to stop running around her head, for a while at least. Laying back on the pillow she ran her fingers over an old knot of healed tissue and thought about the differences between scars. On her skin they were a hardening, a numb-patch, but the ones on her soul felt like a weakness, a softening that would ache when it was touched again. The drugs were claiming her but she had one more moment to wonder about The Beast… he had turned their weakness into strength, and maybe she could too…  

#glass movie #glass 2019 #split movie #split 2016 #casey cooke #febuwhump #febuwhump 2022 #febuwhumpday15 #tw abuse implied

[whumpsical]

Febuwhump Day 14: "I didn't mean it."

@febuwhump

contents: trafficking, captivity, discussion of noncon, manhandling

Jian gets a glimpse at how Dickass Lee plans to change his mind

September 2019

(Continued on Day 17: "Please come back." ->)

💝🌻💝🌻💝🌻

"You know what, Jian, someday you're going to have to say yes."

Dickass Lee sat up in the bed, withdrawing his hands from Jian's waist and crossing his arms impatiently. Jian sat on his own hands to warm them.

"I thought you said I--"

"Yeah, well," Dickass Lee interrupted, snippy. He rolled his eyes, more annoyed than angry, and it only stoked Jian's fear. "So, what is it? Are you not comfortable here? Are you not ready?"

Jian shrank and said in a soft voice, "I told you I was never gonna--"

Abruptly, Dickass Lee stood from the bed, and Jian thought it best to shut up. The man silently paced between the desk and dresser, his footsteps quiet on the carpet, while Jian tracked him with his eyes, frozen.

Dickass Lee stopped at the foot of the bed and braced his hands on the mattress, staring at Jian. "What's it going to take?" he asked, not shouting but not so quietly either, and Jian flinched anyway. Dickass Lee went on, slapping his palm against the bed with every point. "I treat you fairly. You have everything you want. I have never forced you or hurt you without a reason. Why won't you just agree to this one thing?"

Jian furrowed his brows at the man's half-truths. No, he wasn't getting brutalized every second of the day, but if everything he wanted was to be a prisoner on a mountain with a man he hated, that would be a pretty sad dream. "Richard, just because you don't treat me like a sex slave doesn't mean I'd let you rape me."

Something flipped in Dickass Lee's eyes and he had his fist in Jian's hair before Jian could realize what had happened. He dragged Jian off of the side of the bed and twisted the grip in his hair, tightening Jian's head straight up to the man's hand, his neck stiff. Jian yelped and used one hand to keep his feeble balance against the floor, the other to hold on to Dickass Lee's wrist.

"Do not ever say that to me again!" the man shouted in Jian's ear. He shook Jian's head with his hand, practically giving him whiplash, and Jian cried out in pain. Say what? Say WHAT?! Jian tried to kick at Dickass Lee's shins, but the man stepped over and behind him, using his free hand to hold Jian by the collar now too, drawing him up and pulling him backwards toward the hallway.

"Aah! Stop, wait--"

"Do not ever even insinuate that I would do something like that," Dickass Lee said as he dragged Jian's body through the bedroom door and turned left. Towards the door across from the bathroom. The fucking murder basement. No, no, no, no, no, no. Jian's chest froze and he tried to grab the bedroom doorframe as they passed it but his sweaty hand couldn't find anything to grip.

"Hold on -- OW -- wait, stop! I'm sorry!" Jian screamed. His socks slid across the wood floor of the hallway and he couldn't get any traction, neither as a way to slow down nor to press upward and relieve the pressure of Dickass Lee's hand in his hair. "Please, no, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry, please--"

Dickass Lee dropped him on the floor with a harsh shove and unlocked the murder basement door before Jian could even flip to his hands and knees. The man reached for Jian's hair again, and the acute soreness had only magnified since the first time, coaxing a whiny sob out of Jian as Dickass Lee tossed him into the room and shut the door behind him, locking it again with Jian alone on the inside.

He didn't open his eyes at first, too afraid of what horrible instruments of torture he might see. But after a moment passed in stillness and Jian was sure he actually was alone in the room, he peeked out through his eyelashes.

There was nothing. A plain room, just a boring spare bedroom. Nothing on the walls besides a single frosted window looking out to undefined darkness.

#eric #Febuwhump #Febuwhump2021 #Febuwhumpday14 #hurt #hostile #whump #captivity whump #grabbing hair whump #begging whump #scared #ocs #jian #dickass lee #sin squad #eric write #noncon whump #this is like ........ mid/late September 2019 #happy valentines day ajshdgdgsgsg

[set-phasers-to-whump]

trapped under a collapsed building

prompt: trapped under a collapsed building (alt no.2)

whumpee: neal caffrey

fandom: white collar

hi! welcome to my final febuwhump fic!! this is loosely based off of an old thing that i wrote for whumptober back in 2019 except it’s much better lol. i hope you enjoy!!

It happens in the blink of an eye. One second, he’s pushing open the door to a storage room, about to peek in and see whether there’s anything unusual inside, and the next, there’s an absolutely deafening explosion, a loud cracking noise, and suddenly the ceiling is falling in on him. 

He dives for cover, managing to slide under a table just as a huge length of broken pipe hits the ground where he’d been standing only a second before. He barely has time to process this before something huge and heavy crashes through the table and lands directly on top of him. Pain radiates through his entire body, and he passes out almost immediately. 

--

He wakes up slowly, not entirely sure of where he is. Bits and pieces come back to him - an explosion, a crash, pain…

The pain is still there. As is the thing causing it. He’s lying on his stomach and can’t see it, but from what he can feel, it seems to be a huge chunk of concrete. It covers nearly his entire body, from his shoulders to the middle of his legs, and it’s extremely heavy. He tries to move it to no avail, coughing in the smoky air, tasting it on the back of his tongue. 

Once he stops trying to free himself, he comes to the realization that he can’t feel his earpiece. He supposes it had probably come out when he’d fallen. He can’t see it anywhere, but nonetheless he shouts, “Peter!” as loudly as he’s able to, considering the pressure on his lungs and the scratchiness in his throat. 

He continues yelling until his voice gives out, for lack of anything else to do. Nobody’s come in, he can’t hear anything that sounds like people, and he can’t move. He’s completely trapped, and completely alone. Everything hurts, but at the same time he’s beginning to feel a curious sort of numbness, which can’t possibly be good.

He stares up at the ceiling and wonders if this is how he’s going to die. He’d always figured that his death would be more…exciting. A con gone horribly wrong, an elegantly concocted revenge plot - that sort of thing. But here he is, pinned down by concrete in the middle of a collapsed building, nobody around and nothing to do except wait. He wonders where Peter is. Whether he’s going to come looking for him. 

--

A few moments earlier

At the sound of an explosion, everyone in the van immediately jumps into action, pushing through the doors with their guns at the ready. A split second later, through his earpiece, Peter hears a cracking sound, a thump, a horrific crash, and then pure silence. 

“Neal,” he says quietly, and sets off at a run, Jones and Diana close behind him. 

He rounds a corner, and the building - or what’s left of it - comes into view. It’s almost completely collapsed. People are staggering out of the smoking rubble, running away, calling for help. He pushes through them like a fish swimming upstream. Behind him, he hears Diana shouting, taking control of the scene and directing people until emergency personnel arrive. He himself does not stop. He approaches the wreckage, and then realizes he has no idea where to start. 

“Neal!” he shouts, because that seems like a good place to begin. “Neal!”

He’s not really expecting a response, and he doesn’t get one. Part of him insists that he should wait for the fire department to arrive. Another part of him insists that he needs to find Neal now - he could be hurt. He could be dead. 

He can’t be dead, Peter thinks. He won’t let himself consider the possibility. He resolutely pushes further into the rubble, coughing in the thick, smoky air. 

He walks around a corner of a partially-standing wall and just like that, Neal is there. He’s flat on his stomach and there’s a huge chunk of concrete pinning him down, but he’s moving. 

“Neal!” he shouts again, hurrying to his CI’s side and dropping to his knees. Neal lifts his head to look at Peter. There’s a scrape down his cheek and tears in his eyes but he’s alive.

“Tried to move,” Neal says in a whisper. “‘S too heavy.”

“Let me try,” Peter offers, not wanting to waste any time in getting Neal free now that he’s found him. “We might be able to manage it together.”

By some miracle, the concrete isn’t as heavy as Peter had feared, and the two of them manage to lift it enough for Neal to scramble out from under it. 

For a long moment afterwards, Neal simply lies on the ground, breathing heavily. Eventually, though, he sits up with a wince. “Everything hurts,” he mutters, raising a hand to his head. “What happened?”

“I don’t know yet,” Peter answers. The possibilities range from the innocuous to the criminal, from faulty gas lines to bombs. “Let’s just get you out of here, okay?”

Neal nods slowly, stopping rather quickly when the movement apparently makes his head hurt. Peter gets to his feet first, then reaches down and helps Neal up, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to keep him from falling when he begins to sway. 

They stumble out of the wreckage together, carefully stepping around the debris, until at last they’re free. The fire department is on the scene now, escorting people to ambulances and moving into the building to free anyone else who’s been trapped. Peter guides Neal to an ambulance, and a few moments later he’s being looked over by a paramedic.

The diagnosis could be far worse - a mild concussion, two bruised ribs, a heavy dose of smoke inhalation, and plenty of assorted scrapes and bruises. The paramedic recommends a trip to the hospital to rule out any internal bleeding. Neal seems a bit put out at this suggestion, but Peter fixes him with a look and he gives his consent. 

--

Surprisingly, the hospital visit takes very little time. Peter sits in the waiting room and calls El and then Jones and Diana, and by the time he’s done speaking to them Neal is back, leaning on a nurse and looking exhausted but fine. 

“Doc says I’m good to go,” he reports, as Peter stands up to take over the nurse’s position. He gives her a quick glance to make sure Neal’s telling the truth, and she nods. 

“You’ll just need to sign a bit of paperwork, and then you’re free to leave.”

The paperwork is simple, and within ten minutes they’re in a cab and on the way home. Neal leans his head against the window but keeps his eyes open, much to Peter’s relief - he doesn’t want to have to wake him when they arrive. For his part, Peter stares at Neal and tries not to think about how much worse everything could have been. What’s important is that Neal is okay. Everything else - at least for the moment - is secondary.

thanks for reading! i am so happy to be a febuwhump completionist for the second year! i had a lot of fun this month, and i hope you enjoyed whichever of my stories you happened to read. love you all so much!!

#febuwhump2022 #febuwhumpday28 #trapped under a collapsed building #white collar #neal caffrey #trapped #crushed #medical #can you believe i used to write in past tense? not that it can't work but oobh it did not do my own writing any favors #anyway i Know i can't be too hard on myself bc i was literally 16 but dude that old fic was so bad lmao #like the bones were there but hoo boy. nice to see i've improved i'll say #anyway thanks so much for reading this :) can't wait to (hopefully) do it again next year!

[stevie-steven-stevington]

Febuwhump Day 21: insomnia

Fandom: MCU Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark Category: Gen Rating: T Warnings: pre-established minor character death  Words: 1.9k

read on ao3

first | previous | next

He's not surprised when he finds Peter sitting on the roof of Stark Tower at 2:42 AM.

Maybe he should be. It's not exactly normal to find your adopted kid on top of a 100-story building in the middle of the night, but Peter's never really been one for normal. It's been a while since he's done anything this odd, though - the first few weeks were full of strange occurrences, all varying degrees of disturbing, but things have leveled out since.

Tonight, apparently, they're backsliding.

Granted, this is not even close to the weirdest thing Peter's done since moving to the tower, nor the most concerning. It only takes a glance for Tony to know that Peter's not up here to do anything dangerous. Just, it seems, to stargaze.

Tony hopes this one doesn't end in a fight. There's been a lot of yelling lately, and he'd really like to get through a conversation without Peter getting upset with him. He knows it's the grief talking, but it still hurts.

Pulling the sleeves of his MIT sweatshirt over his hands, Tony walks across the roof, sits down next to Peter. The kid's not wearing a jacket, clad in Star Wars pajama pants and an old t-shirt that Tony's fairly sure is his own. Or maybe it's Rhodey's - their wardrobe's have gotten a little mixed up over the years and after constant reminders that the whole what's mine is yours bit applies here, the kid started wearing whatever was lying around with absolutely no regard for who owned it. Peter still doesn't quite get that no one will bite his hand off if he gets seconds at a meal or grabs a midnight snack, but at least it's something.

Peter doesn't look over. Doesn't acknowledge Tony's presence save for a minuscule shift in his posture.

"What are you doing up so late?" Tony asks, almost in a whisper. Anything louder might shatter the serenity. He wonders, vaguely, if Peter's still angry with him about their latest fight. Tony doesn't even remember what it was about.

But no, Peter never holds a grudge over their arguments. They never talk about them, after, because Peter never brings them up, just goes back to acting like everything's fine between them after he cools down, and Tony's too much of a coward to say anything.

True to form, Peter shrugs noncommittally and says, "Can't sleep. Kept...thinking."

Tony's learned enough since taking Peter in to know that asking him what he was thinking about flat-out will only cause Peter to clam up and shut down. Instead, he rests his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand and says in the gentlest tone he can muster, "You can tell me about it if you want. Or we can just sit. S'up to you, buddy."

Peter's mouth presses into a thin line and his hands fidget in his lap. He contemplates, eyes fixed on the night sky for a long moment, before ducking his head and letting his bangs hang in front of his face. His hair is just long enough for Peter to hide behind it, since every time Tony suggests a haircut he's met with a shake of the head and a change of the subject.

"I can't stop thinking about - about what Aunt May said to me before..." Peter stops, takes a breath. Tony prays to a god he doesn't believe in that this is not another with great power comes great responsibility situation. "She told me...a few hours before it happened, she told me she'd always be there for me. I was sad about something, I don't remember what, and she - she said she'd be here for me no matter what and then she -"

For a second, Tony almost thinks he's going to say it. It's been eight weeks and Peter still hasn't said the word died.

He doesn't. He cuts himself off before he can finish the sentence, like he always does, like he did even when he gave his speech at May's funeral. Tony has yet to determine if this is a thing he should be concerned about, but figures there are bigger issues here anyway.

Tony opens his mouth, but before he can actually speak, Peter looks up at him and says, "What were your parents like?"

It takes a minute for Tony to even be sure he heard the question right. Peter's never asked about his parents, and Tony's never said much of anything about them, both of them knowing how touchy of a subject it is.

He doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know what Peter is looking for him to say.

His instinct is to brush it off, because talking about his parents at almost 3 in the morning is not exactly what Tony signed up for when he got out of bed.

But Peter's staring at him with those big doe eyes, and maybe opening up to the kid is how he'll get the kid to open up to him.

"My mom was wonderful," Tony starts, the piercing feeling in his chest already surfacing. He cards his fingers through his hair, the sleeve of his sweatshirt sliding down his arm. "She was kind and soft and - and bright. She used to sing, all around the house, when my father wasn't home, and she always told me that I...that I was her favorite person. The best thing that ever happened to her, she said."

A hand slips into his when he pauses. He shoots Peter a grateful smile before continuing. "My dad, on the other hand, was...he was a dick. Full-stop. He was cold and emotionless and I always wondered how my mother could've ended up with someone that terrible. My father - he treated me like I was his invention. Not his son, not the child he was supposed to care for. Just something he created for his own personal gain."

He wants to leave it at that, but there's something he needs Peter to know. "My father is everything I never wanted to be. I - I've spent my whole life trying to be a better man than him. I'm trying, now, to be a better parent that he was."

It's a testament to how much he'd do for this kid that he even says this much. There's more to say, more to unpack, but that's Tony's problem, not Peter's.

Peter's quiet for a moment. Processing. Tony watches the emotions play out on his face, but doesn't really bother trying to keep up with them.

"You are," Peter says softly. He's looking at Tony's shoulder. "You're a great - parent. I know I haven't...I know I've been difficult and mean and ungrateful and -"

"Wait, wait, stop." Tony shifts so he can fully face Peter, who looks at him with way too much confusion in his eyes. "You're not difficult, Pete. Or mean or ungrateful or anything else you were gonna say. You're grieving. You're allowed to grieve. You're going through basically the worst thing you could possibly go through and you're allowed to be angry about it."

Peter looks unconvinced - God, it's like pulling teeth with this kid - but he doesn't push the issue. His fingers tighten around Tony's, and it's only then that Tony registers how cold Peter is.

"Jesus Christ, kid, you're freezing." Tony's pulled off his sweatshirt before Peter can even reply, handing it over to Peter. The wind bites at his bare arms as soon as he does, but Peter's the one who can't thermoregulate. "Don't argue, just put it on."

Peter sticks out his tongue at him, but pulls the sweatshirt over his head. He's still an inch of two shorter than Tony, so it's a bit baggy on him. Peter does the same thing Tony had, letting the sleeves dangle past his hands, and says, "Thanks."

"'Course."

They sit in silence, Peter leaning into Tony's side to replace the handholding. Tony knows Peter has something else to say, but he also knows that Peter needs to say it on his own time. So he sits and he waits.

Eventually, muffled in Tony's shirt, Peter says, "I can't sleep. Like, not just tonight. I've barely slept in the past...week or so, I guess."

Tony wraps an arm around Peter's back, rests his cheek on the top of his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I wanted to handle it myself." Peter's voice hitches. "Because I wanted to prove to - to myself or to you or to the universe, that there was something I could do by myself. That I'm not just this weak little kid who can't take care of himself."

And Tony gets that.

He hates that Peter thinks he has to do this, any of this, alone, but he gets it.

Peter keeps talking. "But I just - every time I try to go to sleep, I end up thinking about her and about how my life is gonna be without her. About the fact that she won't - she won't be there when I graduate. Or when I find out what colleges I got into. Or when I get my degree, or when I get married, or when I have kids.

"She always told me she was going to be the best grand-aunt. She never said grandmother - I think she thought she'd be disrespecting my mom, her sister, even though I don't think she would've - but she always loved the idea of meeting my kids one day, and now she - she can't -"

Peter doesn't break down, as much as Tony expects him to. Which is...progress, he thinks.

Instead, he just lets out a shaky exhale that Tony feels on his neck and murmurs, "I miss her."

The past eight weeks have been a constant reminder that Peter is just a kid. But in this moment, Peter seems smaller than he ever has before.

He doesn't know what to say.

The truth is, it'll never stop hurting. At least, it hasn't for Tony. Peter will never stop missing his aunt, just as Tony has never stopped missing his mother, and that pain will always be there. It will lessen, but it will remain.

Tony doesn't think Peter needs to hear that right now.

So he says, "Come on, Underoos," and takes hold of Peter's sleeve. Stands, waits for Peter to do the same, then leads the kid down into the Tower.

He takes him to his room and tucks him into bed. Kisses Peter's forehead like his mother used to do for him and then climbs wordlessly onto the other side of the bed. Peter doesn't say anything either, just curls into Tony's side and closes his eyes.

It's a solid forty-five minutes before Peter's breathing evens out. Tony lies awake for another twenty minutes after that, to be sure, and then falls asleep with his arms wrapped around his kid and sleeps better than he has in months.

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