spiderman angst/sickfic oneshots

can't scream (irondad)

A/n: this chapter is so poorly put together and like only 1000 words so idk take it, it's an unfinished idea 😭😭😭 new stuff out soon maybe
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Peter was trapped.

Peter was trapped, tortured, and terrified. If it weren't for the spider bite, he would probably be dead by now.

He didn't know how long he had been chained in the dingy basement he was stuck in. The walls were grey concrete and there was a single lightbulb hanging above him from the two wires that powered it. The square room was fairly small. If he layed down flat and put his arms up he could barely reach. Not that he was laying out flat very often. His ribs hurt too much to do anything other than curl up into a ball.

There was a large metal door with a series of locks that held him in as well as cuffs around his ankles and hands.

If the cuffs and chains weren't made of vibranium that had been molded around his ankle, he would have been out of here way earlier. But alas, here he was.

He had screamed so much, his voice was completely gone. He had hoped that maybe the walls were thin enough for someone to hear. That the sound of a child's scream would be enough to gain some sympathy from a gentler soul, but alas. They had cut him, stabbed him, beat him until his ribs broke, and he had one bullet wound in his side that was becoming infected, despite them having removed the bullet and sort of bandaged it.

He had a fever and he was so dehydrated he couldn't even sweat anymore. He couldn't cry anymore. All he wanted was for it to be over.

They had taken his hair, cheek swabs, urine samples, they had even cut out samples of his skin, leaving him conscious and screaming the entire time. However, he almost preferred that to when they would test drugs out on him.

He didn't know what substances were being injected into his veins, but he knew that after the initial high (which lasted a maximum of a couple of minutes for him) the side effects were horrid. He had begun losing hair, having seizures here and there. He was pretty sure he had a fairly severe concussion.

His whole side was matted with dark blood and puss through the bandages. He felt his body lock up again as he experienced another seizure-like episode. He didn't know what happened or why it happened he just knew that his whole body would go numb, become paralyzed, and he'd hit his head when he fell. Eventually he'd pass out, wake up, his body would try to throw up (though it was useless, they didn't feed him) and then he would just sit and at some point the process would begin again.

He began begging his captors to just kill him. They just beat him harder instead, laughing in his face, spitting into his wounds. They held his head underneathe a sink full of water, adding pneumonia onto his list of problems.

He sat in the room for days, wheezing from his broken ribs and the additional infection now raging through his body. He continued to have seizures. He continued to be tested and experimented on. He continued to not be able to cry

By the time Mr. Stark found him, Peter wasn't himself anymore.

Despite his wounds being treated, the seizure like episodes continued. Despite his vocal chords healing, he wasn't able to speak.

He wasn't able to look anybody in the eyes.

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Peter woke up from a nightmare with a gasp. He still couldn't talk.

But he could cry.

Friday called out to him, turning the lights on by 25% so she could sense his nods or head shakes whenever she asked him questions. This is how he had learned to communicate his needs.

"Peter, do you want me to walk you through breathing exercises?" She asked.

But Peter wasn't responsive. He just held his hands over his head, fingers digging into his chocolate curls, shut his eyes tight, and sobbed silently.

After a second or two he pointed to his door, trying to spell something out with a shaking hand.

"Do you want me to get Mr. Stark?" Friday guessed.

Peter nodded aggressively, trying to get him here quicker. He felt like he was spiraling. He wanted to be held by his mentor like Tony had tried with him, despite his exponential fear, last night and the night before.

But his body locked up and he fell off the side of his bed, seizing.

It was bad. It was really bad.

Tony walked in to see Peter on the ground, drool falling from his mouth and blood gushing from his nose, his back arching and unarching and his head bouncing against the carpet.

"Oh, oh Peter." Tony said softly, "hey, it's okay. It's all gonna be okay. This is a tough one, but youre so strong. You're so strong and it's almost over, okay?"

Peter groaned as the seizure slowed. He could hear every word. He could feel every barely healed rib. He couldn't breathe from his nose. Instead of cowering away from Tony like he usually did, he pulled himself forward and rested his bloody head on the man's leg, the closest thing he could get to curling up in the man's arms, finally trusting him enough to do so again.

The boy let a tear drip down his cheek as the man kept talking to him, gently using a handkerchief to wipe away the blood from his nose and the drool from his chin.

"It's gonna be okay, Pete. I've got you now. I've got you." Tony said, his own eyes tearing up as he pulled the boy closer, and his move was responded to by Peter curling closer to him.

He was so small. So feeble. Weak.

"I miss talking to you, bud." Mr. Stark said, pulling the boy up over his shoulder so he could rest more comfortably. Still Peter didn't speak, just hugged his mentor tighter, his chest rising in a sudden, emotionful inhale.

It was overwhelming how badly he wanted to speak back. He just couldn't bring it out of himself.

After a couple of weeks he could though.

He got better, with hiccups and silent days here and there, but the reminders of the pain left, and the memories began to as well, being replaced by those of his loved ones all around him.

He relearned how to live.

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a/n 2
YEAH
oops
Sorry 🤷🤷🤷
I am experiencing significant pain in my entire lower body 🥰