#marvel whump

[alyon-was-here]

parkner whump doodle that im not proud of

[manic-pixie-mayhem444]

Matt Murdock experiencing sensory induced pain and sickness lives in my head rent free.

Matt Murdock…

Grimly rolling out of bed with a massive hang over groaning to himself “what did I drink last night?”

Still tastes it.

Barely chokes down an alcaseltzer tablet.

Matt Murdock leaning against the wall of his shower, the water is too loud, the pipes are scraping his ears, he’s dripping sweat, his head is thumping. Not sure if he is about to be sick or pass out.

Blankets stuck to dried wounds on his arm. He tries to pull of his shirt wincing as it peals of his back.

Matt Murdock finally not just flirting but actually invested, his stomach twisted in knots he’s never felt. His face ghostly pale as he struggles to focus on controlling the tension in his body.

Matt Murdock collapsing against his mother with a migraine so bad he isn’t entirely sure he’s going to survive. She just holds him and tries not to let him since her eyes are watering. She finally has a chance to take care of him and make up for leaving.

Matt Murdock having a panic attack at work and leaving very abruptly because he can’t breathe and too much is happening.

Matt Murdock in college taking off his shades, rubbing his eyes… pencils on paper screaming at him, chalk on the professors chalk board making his teeth hurt. Finally on the verge of tears he slams his text book shut and walks out. Later tells the professor he is so sorry he just wasn’t feeling well and he had to leave.

[budzdorovanatasha]

ooo could we get a fic with Nat being forcibily quarantined due to horrendous cold which shes totally denying she has, R is assigned duty to look after her?

It's a bit short, but I hope you like it! :))

------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm not sick," your girlfriend huffed, crossing her arms and giving a congested sniffle.

"Mhmm, of course not," you agreed, pushing her gently in the direction of her suite.

"Well then why-"

"Because we are just going to spend some quality time together," you interrupted, fingers trailing down the length of her back soothingly as you walked. She didn't say anything, knowing you were just forcing her to rest and recover.

When she'd entered the kitchen that morning, things hadn't exactly gone as Natasha had planned. She'd sniffled and sneezed her way through breakfast (seventeen times to be exact), got thrown in a coughing fit, and had used up the entire box of tissues.

Tony had shouted 'Quarantine!' and well, you kind of agreed. One, you wanted nothing more than to actually care for your poor girlfriend. And two, the Avengers had a pretty big mission scheduled for the following week, and if everyone came down with what Nat had, it would not go very well. You were fine if you got sick, but the entire team was a definite no.

So, here you were, guiding your very sick girlfriend to her suite.

"So, you're not sick, but maybe we could just have a relaxing day in bed? We never get to do that anymore," you fake-whined. Nat could never say no to you and your puppy-dog eyes so she nodded, clearing her throat.

"Tea?" you asked innocently. Her eyes narrowed.

"I want something warm, but no coffee," you shrugged.

"Sure, then."

You nearly rolled your eyes. The woman was mature when it came to everything but being sick.

Her breath caught and three stifled sneezes were sent into her shoulder.

"Bless you." You had wanted to say so much more, to run over there and pull her into your arms and tell her to let them out until she had rid herself of the horrendous cold, but that wouldn't go over well, so you settled for the simple, common response.

"Thank you."

Well, at least she acknowledged that. When you'd first met Natasha, she wouldn't even acknowledge that she had sneezed.

"Tea's done," you murmured, moving over to the bed where Nat had removed the decorate pillows and made room for the two of you to relax, the bed tray up and ready for the mugs.

You climbed in next to her, barely allowing any space between the two of you. That was how you both liked it, close, protected, and warm.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," you responded softly, setting the mugs down. "What should we watch?"

"Whatever you want," Nat answered. You glanced at her, taking in the glassy eyes, red nose, dark circles under her eyes, and flushed cheeks. She'd probably fall asleep fifteen minutes in, if she let herself.

"Casablanca?"

That was never a wrong move in your girlfriend's book, and she nodded, leaning into you and pulling the covers snugly around your laps.

You'd made it five minutes into the movie before she just couldn't ignore her twitching nose anymore. She suddenly sat up and pulled herself away from you, hiding her nose behind her hands as her breath hitched.

"H'h-htsch! T'tch! Hutsshoo!"

Natasha stayed there for a moment, seemingly not quite sure if she was done. Your hand found her back, a soothing, comforting presence for her.

"n'tsch!"

"Bless you," you offered quietly.

"Thank you," she sighed, pulling a tissue from the box on her nightstand. When she settled back into you, you chewed your lower lip.

"Baby?" you whispered.

"Mmm?"

"Do you maybe not feel well?"

It was quiet for a moment. You thought she might not answer, so you tried again. "Natasha-"

"I think I may have a cold."

It was quiet, barely said, but it was enough.

"Oh, baby, let's get you better," you murmured. You pressed your lips to her temple and relief washed over you when the air around her seemed to settle as she relaxed further into you.

[hersheysmcboom]

Thor: (His voice a low rumble, devoid of its usual thunder) He… he had his moments. Truly. Days where the sun seemed to shine from him alone. He would clasp my shoulder, call me his son, his heir, and speak of my future with such pride… I would feel… worthy.

Bruce: (Softly, almost to himself) The high after the low. It’s… it’s a classic pattern.

Tony: It’s a pattern with a name, Point Break. It’s called love bombing.

Thor: Love… bombing? A strange, mortal term. It sounds… violent.

Steve: It can be. In a way. It’s when someone overwhelms you with affection, praise, and gifts after a period of… well, after they’ve treated you poorly. It’s not real. It’s a tactic. It keeps you off-balance, makes you question your own memory of the bad times. It makes you stay.

Thor processes this, his brow furrowed in deep, pained thought. The silence stretches. Then, his head snaps up, his eyes wide with a new, dawning horror. He looks at each of them in turn, his expression one of gut-wrenching guilt.

Thor: Is that… is that what I do?

Clint: What?

Tony: What?! No!

Bruce: No! No! No!

Steve: Thor, that’s… that’s so much different.

Thor: How? The joy I feel when we are victorious! The affection I hold for you all, my shield-brothers! The… the grand gestures! The feasts I provide, the tales of your bravery I shout from the rooftops! With Jane… the storms I conjure for her, the way I swept her from her world to see the stars… Was that not like my father? Was that not the same manipulation?

Steve: Thor, listen to me. There is a gigantic, universe-sized difference between love bombing and just being an affectionate, enthusiastic person. What you do comes from a genuine place. It’s consistent. You don’t follow up a kind gesture by shoving us into the Bifrost and telling us we’re worthless. The intent is everything.

Thor: (Looking down at his hands) I always wished to be like him. To command respect. To be a king worthy of his legacy.

Tony: And that’s another part of the whole messed-up abuse playbook, Goldilocks. He sets himself up as the ideal, the thing you should aspire to, so you’re always chasing his approval, knowing you’ll never quite measure up. It makes him look bigger by making you feel smaller. Jarvis, pull up the Mark XLII schematics. Let’s start a new sub-routine. File it under “Odinbuster.”

Steve: Tony, no. You absolutely should not.

Tony: Oh, come on, Cap! What’s the point of being an Avenger, having this fantastic arsenal, and a borderline unhealthy need for vengeance if you can’t use it to beat up your teammate’s emotionally abusive, all-powerful father?

Steve: How about not getting instantly vaporized by him? This is a being who, and I want you to really let this sink in, scares Thor. The guy who fights aliens and gods for fun is wary of this one.

Tony: You’re forgetting the time we basically arm-wrestled Galactus. This is just one guy. A god, sure, but one guy. The Hulkbuster could…

Steve: The Hulkbuster would be a very expensive, very shiny paperweight to him. A distracting one, for about two seconds.

Clint: (Sarcastically) And on his tombstone, it will read: “Here lies Tony Stark. He died as he lived: stupidly, and with terrible follow-through.”

Tony: You are hereby officially banned from my funeral. And my will. You get nothing. And Steve, are you seriously telling me you wouldn’t even consider taking a shot?

Thor speaks again, his voice quiet, pulling the focus back to him. The fight drains out of the room.

Thor: You think me a fool, then. For still loving him. Despite knowing all this.

Steve walks over and puts a firm, steady hand on Thor’s massive shoulder.

Steve: No. Thor, no. That’s the really messy part. That’s what makes it so hard. He’s your father. The love you have for him… that’s real. It’s the other stuff that’s the lie. Untangling that… that’s the fight. Not one for a suit of armor.

[saintsofviolence]

everytime im feeling down i just rewatch this exact bit and bam... ugh immaculate whumperflies

[caffeinefafnir]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

WHAT IF... THE OTHER HALF HAD SURVIVED THE SNAP?

FINALLY!! After almost two whole years... One of the fanfics that has kept me going through these goddamn awful years.

(Not your traditional fanfic, please read the notes) The roles are reversed and the OG 6 are gone, how will the others manage to save half the Universe when they can't even manage to get their own act togheter? Can this even work out without the Earth's mightiest heroes??

WARNING: major character deaths, mentions of mature topics like mental health problems, overall angsty as hell

Final chapter arriving this week (somehow correcting translations is incredibly nerve-wrecking for me as of lately)

[scuttling]

Febuwhump 2026 - Day 1

Prompt: "I like you better broken" Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) Characters/Relationship: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Word Count: 836

Febuwhump 2026 Masterlist - AO3

Tony doesn’t mean to say it. 

Bruce knows that. Bruce knows they have a good working relationship. A good friendship, even, if you can call coming together in times of crisis, running models and trading quips a friendship. Tony’s are snappy, Bruces’s are dry, and that works. The relationship, friendship, whatever, it works.

Tony needs someone who can keep up with him, who can follow his patterns of speech and behavior closely enough to know he’s about to say something crazy before he says it. He needs an equal and opposite ally pushing back against the Tony of it all, against the brilliantly blinding, overcompensating force of nature he can tend to become when he gets in his head.

When Bruce is with him, he feels like that someone. That ally. When he’s with Tony, he feels as close to complete as he can be for someone so deeply, fundamentally fragmented. He feels understood.

He knows Tony doesn’t mean to say it. 

But he knows Tony means it, and that’s actually much worse.

Tony is pacing the lab, hands moving like his brain is sprinting ahead of his mouth, eyes flicking between screens that all show the same thing: threat projections, casualty estimates, a big green silhouette labeled OPTION A.

Bruce sits off to the side, notebook balanced on his knee, tapping the cap of his pen against the pristine white pages.

“We’re not trying to sideline you,” Tony says, already defensive, already mid-argument with a version of Bruce in his head that’s fighting back on this. “It’s just, when things go bad, they go really bad, and the Hulk is—” He exhales, rubs a hand over his face, like it costs him to say it. “—reliable.”

Bruce’s pen stops.

Tony keeps going. Always keeps going.

“You’re brilliant, okay? Obviously. Incredible human, world-class. But in the field, under pressure, when the city’s on fire and the clock’s running out—”

He laughs once, short and breathless, props himself against the desk with a hand on his hip.

“I mean, come on. You know this. You’re most effective when you’re… not the one holding the wheel.”

Bruce stiffens, his shoulders curling tight, drawn in like he’s bracing for impact. He doesn’t intend for it to make him smaller, but it does that too.

He’s not angry. He’s not even hurt, really.

He’s tired. Deeply, excruciatingly, tired.

Tony looks over at him, notices the aching tension in Bruce’s body, exhales.

“Hey, buddy. I didn’t mean—”

Bruce swallows.

“So,” he says quietly, voice steady in that fragile way that means it took everything to keep it that way. “You like me better when I’m not… here.”

Tony blinks. “No. That’s not—”

“You said I’m more effective when I’m not holding the wheel.”

“That’s—contextually—”

“You said he’s reliable.”

Tony furrows his brow like he thinks Bruce is taking his words the wrong way, like he’s mad at his mouth for saying them in the first place.

“Well, yeah, because he doesn’t—hesitate.”

Bruce closes his eyes and nods once, a sharp motion that slots his feelings cleanly into place.

“There it is.”

Tony opens his mouth. Closes it. Tries again. He reaches a hand toward Bruce, not quite touching his rigid spine.

“Bruce, listen to me. You’re not lesser. No one thinks that. You’re just—different roles. Different strengths.”

Bruce lets out a soft breath that almost sounds like a laugh, looks up at Tony with tired, wounded eyes.

“Everyone says that,” he murmurs, “like it’s kindness. I’m sure their intentions are good," he adds with a nod. "But what I hear is this: when I’m scared, when I’m fractured, when I lose control—that’s when I’m useful. Effective. And that’s what’s preferred.”

Tony’s chest tightens. “That’s not what I—”

“I know,” Bruce says, gently. Too gently. “You didn’t mean to say it.”

Tony takes a step closer. “Bruce—”

“I just need to understand,” Bruce continues, voice soft, precise, as unemotional as he can manage. “If the Hulk didn’t exist… would you still need me?”

The room feels smaller, like it’s closing in on them, sucking the air out of the lab and Bruce’s lungs at the same time.

Tony doesn’t answer fast enough. Hesitates, for one second, maybe two, but Bruce notices.

His heart is already thundering. He can feel it, loud and quick in his chest, can feel the green clawing at his throat like the other guy’s waiting for the answer, too.

He nods again, slower this time. Acceptance, not agreement.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s… okay. It helps to… know.”

Tony’s eyes soften. His mouth curves down in a pained, earnest frown.

“Bruce, that pause? That wasn’t what you think. I just—”

Bruce stands, raises one hand slowly to stop him. Not a threat, just a signal.

Tony swallows audibly, and Bruce tracks the tightening of his throat as he does.

“I’m going to go lie down,” he says calmly, with the ghost of a smile that hurts more than it should. “Before I become the version of me everyone prefers.”

[deaddovemars]

If you had to pick a favorite whump trope to read for each of your favorite mcu characters, what would they be?

E.G. Hidden injury, bursting into tears, fainting, etc

My favorite has to be hidden injury!!

I love whenever a fic has JARVIS/FRIDAY or another AI reporting that one of the team is injured a little "too late" because of all the privacy protocols. This usually goes hand in hand with identity porn! Like Matt is the new lawyer for the Avengers (after he starts defending vigilantes and heros). The team notices that this blind civilian seems to have a lot of bruises. They let him have his privacy tho. UNTIL Tony gets nosy and has JARVIS track Matt's injuries and gets a report that this guy is like losing a loooott of blood.

So for all my faves it's gotta be hidden injury. Especially Peter since his super healing has him think that it's ok to keep his injuries too himself because he heals quickly. And maybe its a form of self harm because he thinks he deserves to suffer in silence.

Gah I love whump