#febuwhumpday13

[corvidscreams]

Febuwhump Day 13: "Again"

Once more, the hands of time turn back.

[cupcakeslushie]

Febuwhump Day 13: You Weren’t Supposed to Get Hurt

[linecrosser]

Febuwhump 2026 - Day 13 - "Again"

Training until you are about to puke your lungs out. Not by choice. Forced to do it.

Pose Inspiration from @whumpberry-cookie 's Blorbo Whump Pose References

[checkeredflagggs]

Febuwhump Day 13: “I Don’t Trust Anyone Else”

pairings: gen

summary: a story about y/n, Redbull’s new second driver, told in non-sequential order

a/n: I love febuwhump and have participated before for other fandoms but this is a first for me — attempting to compete it via smau only. Hopefully I can write a complete story eventually and I will be posting it on its own masterlist in the correct order to read but it’ll be written based on the febuwhump prompt list! @febuwhump

a/n2: based on the 2024 year; sorry checo but you got replaced earlier!

a/n3: oops but my Logan bias is showing in this one

Masterlist | Taglist

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

Taglist

@msimpala-67 @anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @Voidvannie @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @yawn-zi

[b0amagination]

“We both knew I couldn’t let you go forever, darling.”

Febuwhump 2026 | Day 13 | “Again.”

Febuwhump tag list: @chaotic-orphan @whumpinthepot @ziptiesnfries

[theloveofwhump]

Under Controlled Conditions: ‘Again’

Chapter 17

Previous  |  Next

Febuwhump Day 13

AJ let out another deep breath. They had mostly been left alone and together this week, taking the chance to heal. AJ’s braces had come off and as much as he hated it, he’d give credit to Dr Hudson, he had improved the serum, he was still sore and had wicked scars but his bones were healed. 

If only the same could be said for Darius. 

The brother that sat across from him was not that same man as he’d once known. He was quiet and deathly pale, he flinched all the time, especially around other people. AJ had heard him sobbing when he thought AJ was asleep. He still had black eyes and a broken nose from the beating he had taken.

Beating…. Yeah right.

It had been on day three of their mini break that Darius had rolled over in his sleep and his t-shirt had rode up, baring his back. AJ had seen the dark purple handprints on each hip even in the darkened room. The further bruising in a line down his back, teeth marks highlighting each one. With a dawning horror AJ had pieced together what must have happened. The crying, the flinching, the monotone voice. Shit.

Once Darius had woken, AJ had tried to broach the subject. Darius had shut him down with curt replies and refusals to engage. AJ decided to just come clean.

“Your shirt rode up in the night Darius, I could see all the bruising. I know you were assaulted and I’m here for you. Always. If you want to talk, I’ll listen and you know I’d never judge.”

And Daruis had slowly told him, bit at a time, about what that fucking bastard had put him through. And his former fucking friends had allowed it, encouraged it even. AJ had held him lightly, arm round his shoulders as Darius had sobbed.

“The worst thing is AJ, It w-was my f-fault. I didn’t fight at f-first. I just let them.” The admission came out in painful gasps.

“I just g-gave them permission. I j-just let him collar me and he handed me over to that m-monster like I was nothing. Not even a person.”

“Darius”, AJ soothed, his voice gentle.  “This is not your fault.”

“It still hurts AJ…. Inside me….. I can still feel him.”

Anger like he’d never known had burned through AJ as Darius had cried himself back to sleep. AJ rocked him gently, trying to emulate how their mother had held him, when he’d been sick or upset.  In contrast, his mind was a violent rage of fury. When he finally got his hands on those motherfuckers, he would tear them apart.

Several days of trying to help Darius passed before Dr Hudson returned to their cell. His gaze lingered on Darius for a moment before the hint of concern was quickly masked.

Two of Dr Hudson’s thugs stepped forward, pulled them apart, cuffed their hands and led them to the lab. Several chains hung low from the ceiling and the ever present camera watched on.

Dr Hudson addressed them both. “We have a big day tomorrow, securing some extra funding for your tests”, the doctor smirked then continued. “The serum seems to be working well on injuries, but we’re still not having a lot of luck with scaring and external healing times. I’ve adjusted one of the formulas to hopefully help….

So, whose turn is it today?”

Darius shuffled forward, eyes dull. AJ grabbed him and pulled him back. Darius flinched again and sorrow swelled in AJ. He shoved Darius behind him, this time he would protected his big brother, no matter what it would cost him. 

“Very well, uncuff him please and get him into those shackles. The doctor nodded to the ceiling chains. 

AJ’s hands were briefly freed just as Calvin waltzed the lab. He leered at Darius and in a voice loud enough to carry, confirmed AJ’s fears.

“You ready for round two yet? The bodyguard enjoyed your time together. So much, in fact, he’s booked in another visit”.

AJ exploded forward and wrapped his hands round Calvin’s throat, determined to throttle the life from his worthless body. Two goons rushed into the lab and wrenched him off. AJ shrieked at Calvin as his wrists were wrestled into the hanging shackles, arms held aloft in a V shape above him as he continued to yell, words spat at Calvin like poison. 

“Enough, both of you”, Dr Hudson held a hand up and slashed it through the air. “Calvin. You can take observations today, it’s probably best if you two are kept at a distance”.

Dr Hudson wired AJ up to a variety of monitors and took his base line readings. He motioned to a lab technician who nervously came forward, holding a syringe and test tubes to take his bloods.

AJ grinned down at the timid med tech. “I used to do your job once, for these very same people, keep that in mind during your next 1-1 with the good doctor.” The tech paled further and fumbled the needle into his vein. Amateurs, AJ thought while he bared his teeth at the man.

Whilst his bloods were taken, Dr Hudson cut his shirt from him and injected what he supposed was his beloved regen serum into various points across his back.  

He came to stand in front of AJ and motioned someone behind him as he spoke. “Sorry we keep going for the back. But it does have 31 pairs on spinal nerves, makes for a good test site.”

AJ felt the heat of the metal before it pressed into his lower back. His skin sizzled, the sickening torment held him in its grip as he burned. The pain was exquisite, it shrieked through every part of him as he balled his hands into fists, holding tightly to the chains he was shackled to. 

The burning metal lifted from his skin, he let out the breath he was holding as his body shook involuntarily. The burn throbbed and pain pulsed from the wound. 

“Again”, Calvin ordered.  The doctor threw him a warning glance but gave a nod. 

The metal rod was applied to his shoulder blade and rolled downward slowly. AJ felt the skin stick then pull away as it moved. He groaned out his agony through gritted teeth, panting when it was removed.

“Again”, the prick ordered.

“Again”

“Again”

AJ lost his battle with himself to stay quiet and screamed as the hot metal pressed into him again and again, the smell of cooked flesh filling his nose. His burnt skin stretched and split open with each tiny movement, he could only imagine what his back resembled. He slumped in his bonds and begged. 

“Ok, ok, please stop. Please.”

Calvin laughed cruelly. “Ok, Darius, your up next.”

“NO”. The shriek from AJ echoed sounded through the lab. Darius was fighting to get away from the man restraining him, tears running down his face. 

“No”, AJ said, quieter this time, defeated. “Just continue with me. Please.”

As the metal continued to burn agony into his flesh, he heard Dr Hudson muttering behind him. The sound felt distant to him now, the fiery torture of his back had his overwhelming attention. 

“Look, this is a lot better”, he observed AJ’s skin, taking close ups of certain areas. “It’s healing a lot nicer and quicker than I expected. It’s still scarring badly though. Humm.” The muttering voices continued, AJ found he didn’t care. 

Calvin moved in his peripheral vision and added some more branding irons to flames AJ hadn’t noticed in the corner of the lab earlier, an oven of some sort. The irons looked to have letters on them, he vaguely wondered why you’d need letters. 

Calvin moved again and AJ lifted his head and grimaced an approximation of a smile at him, fury raging in his eyes. 

“I. Will. Fucking. Kill. You”, he grout out.

Calvin just smirked and looked at the doctor. After a few more notes and measurements, Dr Hudson gave a nod. He typed a final note into his iPad and levelled a glare at Calvin.

“If you kill him, you’ll be the one explaining why to Shadow”, the doctor threatened. “Keep that in mind.”

Calvin saluted and removed the first iron from the fire. He ran a finger over AJ’s chest then stepped back before AJ could kick him.

“Ah AJ. I’ve been thinking of how we carved ‘Traitor’ into Darius, how lovely it looked and how nicely the scars have set. I thought we should match it on you too.”

AJ focused on the iron in front of him. The letter ‘T’ glowed red hot, heat shimmered off it. AJ set his jaw and glared at Calvin.

AJ thought how this punishment is less than what Darius received. Will never be as bad as what happened to his brother. He grinned at Calvin as the first brand made contact and then seared into his skin. Hot, white agony erupted and his body shook violently again. He howled, head thrown back in an agonised scream as tears streaked down his face.

He would not break, he would kill them and then spend the rest of his life helping Darius recover. They just had to get through, had to survive. 

@febuwhump @notlikeothernurses @secretlythegodofdesire @frankieronny @stars-hide-our-fires @sondersunbeams @macknus @chaotic-orphan @hueningplushie @sunrise-lemon-bar @vivisectophile

Let me know if anyone wants to be on the tag list!

[maggie-atwood]

Trust

@febuwhump Day 13: “I don’t trust anyone else”

Fandom: The Walking Dead (TV)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era: Alexandria (S5-6)

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: dead bodies, blood, stitches

A/N: A little sweet moment as a palette cleanser, since some of the prompts have been doozies!

You drag another body off of the street to the awaiting pickup. Carefully, you lift it from under its arms, and heave it into the bed of the truck. You pause for a minute, wiping the sweat off of your brow with the back of a gloved hand, and survey the area.

Alexandria looks like a warzone after yesterday’s disaster. Parts of the wall are barely standing, houses are stained black from fire, and the streets are littered with bodies. Among them are a mix of long-dead walkers, the assholes who attacked the town, and some of your neighbors. But at this point, they’re all bodies. And they all have to move.

Organized by Michonne, the survivors of Alexandria work in teams to clean up the town and erase the lingering reminders of yesterday’s death and destruction. You work alongside two other residents to load up the bodies on this block and bring them outside of the walls to be burned. Everyone completes the task in a somber silence. No one has the heart or energy for the usual lighthearted camaraderie, so most of the communication is done through hand gestures, grunts, and the universal slamming on the side of the truck to know when it's full enough to move.

It takes all day, but it gets done. It’s your turn to drive when the final bodies are loaded into the pickup, so you guide it out of the gates slowly, maneuvering carefully through the blockade of ruined cars out front to the dump site. Once there, two more Alexandrians help you unload the bodies into the heap, quickly doused in gasoline and lit up with a match. You don’t even stop to watch the black smoke unfurl into the early evening sky. All you want to do is go home.

You park the pickup just inside the gates and hop out. You give a lazy wave to the other workers, most of them also finishing their sections and calling it quits soon. Eyes on the ground - now stained in reds and browns from the bodies - you make your way back to your house, thinking of nothing except the hot shower and your bed that await you.

The house seems empty when you get there, which makes sense: Rick and Michonne are with Carl in the infirmary, and Carol has been cooking and delivering food to all of the houses to ensure that everyone eats. That just leaves Daryl, who honestly could be anywhere right now. He’s not an easy man to keep tabs on.

But after you kick off your boots and drop your ruined gloves on the front table, you head upstairs to your room and find the man in question sitting on the floor next to your bed. You nearly jump out of your skin.

“Jesus, Daryl,” you say, clutching your chest. “You nearly k-” You almost said killed me, but you caught yourself. With so many people killed yesterday, it didn’t feel right to say it now, even in jest.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“It’s fine,” you say, your heart rate returning to a normal speed. “What’s up?” You look down at him. “Why are you on the floor?”

Daryl looks down sheepishly. “Didn’t wanna get yer bed dirty,” he says, indicating his messy clothes. He probably had a worse day than you yesterday.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, nodding for him to get up. 

He hesitates, then he starts to stand up slowly, clearly struggling. You step forward and hook your arm under his and help him up. He grunts in pain, but makes it. You drop him down onto your bed.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, sitting down next to him, concerned. You’ve never seen Daryl like this before.

He angles his body away from yours, and that’s when you spot the red stain on his angel wing. 

“‘m sorry,” he says, stumbling over his words. “I need yer help t’ - I don’t trust anyone else.” He looks down again, the tips of his ears going pink.

“Of course,” you say softly. You carefully slide his vest off of his shoulders and hook it on the bedpost to wash later. When you turn back to Daryl, you gasp. The bloodstain on his shirt is way bigger than you thought.

“Is it-” you start to ask, but can’t finish the sentence. Because if it is….

“Nah,” Daryl says quickly, glancing at you over his shoulder. “‘s not - that. Jus’ got stabbed, is all.”

That makes you chuckle. “Just got stabbed,” you repeat. “What a world we live in.” Daryl scoffs out half of a laugh, which for him, is a lot. You smile, and get to work.

Even more gently than before, you help Daryl out of his shirt, unbuttoning the front and sliding it off of his arms. You toss it onto the floor; you don’t even think Carol can get that stain out, so it’s probably garbage now. Then you go to the bathroom to get a towel and a cup, filling it at the tap before returning to your room.

You settle onto the bed behind Daryl, sighing lightly. His back is littered with scars, both new and old. They stretch across the soft skin from shoulder to shoulder, and even down to where his pants sit low on his hips. You know that this is why he came to you: he is ashamed of his scars and doesn’t let many people see him. It took him nearly a year to even show them to you, after keeping a shirt or his vest on in even the oddest of situations.

Dipping the towel into the cup, you start cleaning the wound. Daryl hisses and you whisper apologies in his ear as you wipe as much of the blood away as you can. The cut is deep, but thankfully, it seems to have stopped bleeding by now. But by the looks of it, it was for quite some time.

“It’s probably going to need stitches,” you tell Daryl sadly. Another scar added to his collection, you say only to yourself, not wanting to upset him further.

Daryl shifts, digging around in the pocket of his tattered jeans, then reaches back and hands you a curved needle and a spool of thick thread.

“Borrowed ‘em from Denise,” he explains, sensing your quirked eyebrow without even having to see it. 

“Smart man,” you reply slyly, taking them. Using your knife to cut it, you thread the needle. “Ready?” you ask, your hand hovering over his back. Daryl just grunts his response.

Careful only to use just enough force to break the skin, you pierce the needle through and start to close up the wound. You can feel Daryl’s shoulders tense under your hands, but then he loosens them again. You work quickly, knowing how uncomfortable Daryl is in situations like this and not wanting to drag it out any longer than it needs to be. 

When you tie off the last stitch, you sit back and admire your handiwork. The stitches aren’t perfect, but they get the job done. The scar will certainly be neater than the ones that surround it. You walk to the bathroom again, dumping the now-pink water into the sink and the towel in the hamper, and grab some bandages and tape from the medicine cabinet.

Back in your room, Daryl watches you from the bed.

“Final touches,” you tell him, holding up your supplies. He smiles faintly.

After you bandage him up, Daryl turns to face you on the bed, looking down at his lap. He’s still shirtless and visibly uncomfortable.

“Here,” you say, grabbing the vest from behind you. Daryl narrows his eyes but allows you to pull him up and help him into the vest. You step back and smile at him standing there with his jeans slightly askew and his vest on, open, exposing his muscular chest. “Now this is a look,” you say with a grin.

“Shut up,” he mutters, but then he pulls you into a one armed hug, mindful of the care you took to dress his wound. “Thank you,” he whispers into your hair.

“You’re welcome, Daryl,” you whisper back before wrapping your arms around him tight, grateful that after such a disastrous night, you still can. 

[rachelteazer]

Febuwhump Day 13

"Again"

How to Train Your Dragon | Hiccup/Astrid | 482 words | AO3

--

“Hiccup,” sighed Astrid, sounding annoyed. “Really? Again?”

He laughed shallowly, unable to defend himself, and even that small movement hurt. “Uh – please don’t tell the others?” came out before he could help himself.

She gave him a smile that he hoped was affectionate and not just condescending. “Come in, then.”

He limped into her hut and she closed the door behind him. “What was it this time,” she asked, heading for the medical supplies she kept under her bed. “Were you trying out the flight suit or just some ill-advised manoeuvre?”

Hiccup winced as he sat on the end of her bed. “It was a really cool manoeuvre, actually,” he said, a bit petulantly.

She snorted. “Sure. Tunic off.”

He struggled out of his tunic while Astrid rummaged through her supplies. She looked up when he was done, and made a face. “Oof, Hiccup. How high was the fall?”

“High enough,” he hedged.

She handed him a pot of salve, which he started applying to the grazes and scratches on his arms. He was very aware of her watching him while he did so.

“What?” he asked, curious rather than aggressive.

“Are you sure you don't want Fishlegs to –”

Hiccup cut her off with a groan. “Please, Astrid. Not now.”

“Alright,” she said, scooting closer. “But we're talking about this later.”

“Fine.”

Astrid gestured, instructing him to raise his arms. He put the pot down and complied, wincing as she started pressing each of his ribs.

“I'm not sure you're going to be able to hide this from the others,” she said.

Hiccup bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to flinch too much as her prodding continued. “I'm sure I'll think of something.”

“You're not very good at acting. Or lying.”

“Thanks, I – ouch!” he yelped. “Astrid!”

“Don’t be such a baby. I have to see whether any of them are broken.”

“You could be a little gentler,” he grumbled.

She rolled her eyes, but her next touch was lighter. He watched her as she worked, a little crease between her brows as she concentrated.

“I'll just… tell them I fell off a cliff,” he tried.

“Hiccup, how is that less embarrassing than what actually happened?”

He laughed, but quickly stopped when it hurt too much.

“Well,” sighed Astrid, sitting back. “None of them are broken. You just need to rest.”

“Oh, yeah, I'm great at that.”

“I'm serious. You're grounded for the next few days.”

Hiccup groaned and flopped back onto the bed. “Fine. But you have to explain to Toothless why we're not doing an evening flight.”

“I'm pretty sure he already knows.”

“Yeah, you're right.”

The bed creaked. Astrid lay down beside him and put an arm, very carefully, over his chest.

“You're an idiot,” she murmured, and this time Hiccup could hear the affection in her voice. He hummed against her hair, and closed his eyes.

(Masterlist of my Febuwhump fics here)