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ashintheairlikesnow · 11 months

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A Good Time Coming

CW: Creepy whumper, mind-controlled background characters, defiant whumpee, some brief references to past noncon

If Lord Guilford Wentworth were not the wealthiest man in seven kingdoms, he would have been perhaps the most easily forgotten person Kiraya had ever seen.

When Babbage led Kira into what the butler called ‘the small sitting room’, she found herself in the single largest such room she had ever been in in her life, with Wentworth seated at a table with tea and slices of thick freshly-baked bread laid out before him in quite the spread. He was lighting a candle using matches, failing repeatedly to get one to stay lit for more than a moment or two, before finally the fifth one caught.

He dropped the matches into a glass of water thoughtlessly, one by one.

Ceilings soared above her head, and artwork that must have cost a fortune was arrayed on every single wall. Sculptures and statues were settled here and there on tables or stands. In the center of the whole bizarrely luxurious mismatched mess was Wentworth himself, a steaming cup of strong black tea before him.

He looked like no one in particular, whatsoever.

He appeared to be a man in his late thirties or perhaps early forties, with average brown hair and average build, slightly squinty eyes behind spectacles whose color wasn't clear, maybe brownish, maybe not. Nearly the moment her eyes moved to gaze out the windows at the impressively designed and carefully landscaped gardens outside, she realized she struggled to remember any exact features on his perfectly normal, blandly handsome face.

He looked up at her, slipping his knife into a small jar. What came out was so strangely brownish-red and viscous that at first Kira thought he had dipped the knife into drying blood. Her breath caught, stomach turning as flashes of darker mythologies she had read during her studies ran through her mind.

Then she blinked.

It wasn’t brownish at all, it was just simple berry jam. She exhaled in relief. The strange moment with the creature locked away must have her nerves absolutely frayed.

The lord’s smile was firmly fixed in place, and his eyes were cold and pitiless. His voice was cultivated, artificially so. “My goodness. Is this the new magician?”

“It is, sir, yes.” Babbage cleared his throat slightly. He stood even straighter in the man's presence, as if he were worried he might be called out on any posture less than perfect. “May I present Miss Kiraya Losna of the Tiendra, sir. Miss Losna, this is Lord Guilford Wentworth the Fourth, advisor to His Majesty King Leonin the Brave.”

Kira would eat her tragically lost hat if he wasn’t the first, second, and third Guilford Wentworths, too, but it wouldn't do to bring that up again, after the strange way that Babbage had acted before. She forced herself to smile and dipped into a curtsy, her skirts swirling around her feet. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Wentworth.”

He did not stand, or bow, only tipped his chin to look her over. She supposed she had come as an employee, and maybe he didn’t give the same courtesies as he might do with actual guests, but the rudeness felt a little unsettling all the same.

He looked her slowly up and down, and Kira felt his gaze on her body like an oil slick might be felt on the wings of a seabird. She lifted her chin, just a little, and straightened her shoulders. Unsettling bastard that he was, she would show him no sign she noticed.

“You…” Lord Wentworth trailed off, and his smile shifted to a slightly quizzical frown. “You look quite awful, Miss Losna.”

“I-... what?” She glanced down at herself, and then winced. “Oh.” There were reddish stains at roughly the same height as her knees, from where the water and dried blood had mixed, and likely similar stains on the back of her skirts, too. The cloth was torn - apparently her protection spell hadn’t protected her clothing from the creature’s claws - and she already knew her hair was coming out of its updo and her hat was gone. She felt herself flush, embarrassed more at the simple fact that she felt ashamed of herself at all than at anything else. “My apologies, Lord Wentworth, I only-... well, I just…”

He waited, looking absurdly patient. When she simply trailed off, he tipped his head in curiosity. “You… what, Miss Losna? Were you caught in the storm? I was sure I heard the carriage arrive before it began…”

Oh, had he? And yet he certainly had made no effort to come and greet her with his butler...

“Miss Losna requested to have a look at the serpent in person immediately upon arrival, sir.” Babbage spoke hurriedly, and Kira fought the urge to smile gratefully at him for covering for her nerves so smoothly. “She was somewhat overcome by an attempt at an attack on her person."

Now Lord Wentworth stood, and everything about him changed.

He wasn’t particularly tall - Kiraya Losna was taller, actually, and would have been even if she weren’t wearing her walking boots - but he became quickly imposing when the leer fell from his expression and was replaced by an entirely different piercing stare. “You saw it? Alone? And it attacked you?”

His voice was meant to hold a tone of worry, Kira thought, but all she heard was something like… jealousy, which made no sense at all. Jealousy and anger, and she thought of the magic on the siren's skin, the look of resignation in the beautiful creature's eyes.

The way the siren had said, He named me Areyto, because I dance to his tune.

She set her jaw, and kept her posture ramrod straight. She fought the urge to take a step back even as Wentworth came closer. “I did, yes. I stepped inside and the creature did attempt to take me by surprise, but I had cast a protection spell on myself and so his goal was not achieved. He quickly abandoned whatever idea he had about such an attack and went back to his waters."

Wentworth’s eyes narrowed, shifted to the side and then back again. For just one single second, she saw in him an inhuman wariness, like one of the big lions in the hills eyeballing what might be prey… or another predator. Then he plastered the gentle concern back over it, but any chance she would have believed it to be sincere was already gone. "Were you much injured, then, Miss Losna? The creature should not have been able to even begin to mean you harm... but of course, that's why you're here. But if you are injured, I could have my physician see to-"

"This blood is not mine," Kira said quickly, voice brusque. Her heart raced but she kept her expression of perfect outward calm. "It was on the floor already. Based on what I saw, I believe it belongs to the creature himself."

The wariness in him only grew more visible, more obvious. His eyes went to the butler, thoughtfully, and then back to her. A serving-girl entered, with the same damn blissfully hazy smile so many of the servants seemed to wear, beginning her work on dusting the various sculptures and surfaces as if she were living out her wildest dreams. “The thing is injured? Did you… cause it to bleed?”

“No, Lord. As I said, there was blood there when I came in. There were marks on the doors, Lord Wentworth, and they are not the marks of a sea serpent as you stated in your letter.” Kiraya took a deep breath and told herself to be strong, despite the way the man’s eyes narrowed and both the butler and serving-girl turned - briefly - to look at her. “You are keeping a siren in magical chains, and he is trying to break out. He will break out, and within two months or less if I don't miss my guess."

Wentworth turned abruptly away from her. “Babbage. Nadette. Leave us.”

Babbage hesitated, glancing sidelong at Kira, then back at Wentworth, uncomfortable. His eyes were clear again, and Kira wondered if his own spellwork was fading fast, as the siren's faded. If the whole household would soon recall just why they found the work so wonderful. “My lord... the young lady is unmarried. You should not be alone in a room without a chaperone. The gossip, my Lord-”

“I said leave us. Send in Grant and Ellwen.”

Babbage swallowed, his eyes flickering into fog and out again, then he snapped his fingers and pointed as he turned on his heel. The serving-girl followed him as he left, carefully closing the door behind her, leaving Kiraya alone with a man she suspected was nearly two hundred years old… or more. Who knew how long he had been living as a series of men with the same name and face?

“Do you even… pay your staff?” She asked, once she and the lord were entirely alone.

“Of course I do.” Irritated, he went back to his seat, picking up his tea as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, sipping and making a soft sound of contentment. “They are not slaves, Miss Losna. Each was hired after being recommended by an already-employed member of my staff. They come with the highest of references from past employers.”

“How much?”

“I beg your pardon?” Wentworth’s eyes narrowed.

“How much do you pay them? Their salaries, sir?”

“... that is quite an impolite line of questioning, and frankly irrelevant to your work, Miss Losna, which is the only reason I have brought you here and all we need to be discussing. Rest assured my servants are well compensated-"

“It is-... my apologies for interrupting, sir, but it is very relevant to my work when magic rolls off of them as thick as heavy perfume,” Kira said, forcing her voice not to tremble under the strength of his regard. She had walked into a trap, in this house, one set long before anyone had ever heard her name or hired her. “They've been made to see a serpent where a siren sits, haven't they? They have been magicked into believing whatever you tell them, thinking themselves content? So that you have the household you desire, with none of the little troubles that come with human beings. You have committed a crime, Lord Wentworth."

He sighed, as if all of this was quite tiresome and not serious accusations that could have all his grand wealth taken from him by the crown. “I have not hired you for your detective skills, Miss, but because you are a magician. I expect you to enforce the spellwork on my siren before he breaks fully free, take the very generous remuneration I have offered you in return for your services, and be gone.”

“The use of magic of any kind to influence the minds or hearts of others is depraved,” Kira said, but she struggled to keep her voice even. The storm continued outside the windows, and it would be hours before the cab returned to take her back to her lodgings. “And it's damned illegal, at that. It’s a terrible crime, punishable by-”

“Death by drawing and quartering,” Lord Wentworth cut her off, voice dry and unbothered. “I am aware. I believe the head of such a person would be displayed on a spike for all those who use magic to see and learn from, as well. I intend to suffer no such indignities, Miss Losna. None whatsoever."

“Too bad.” Kira found her breathing coming faster, her ribs straining the boning of her dress when her lungs expanded, making her a touch dizzy. “Unfortunate, indeed, because I will not work in such a household, I will tell others not to accept you as a client, and the siren will break free very soon whether you like it or not. Will you walls come crumbling down on that day, my Lord?"

He was smiling now, and yet it was far colder than any frown. “No, dear heart, they will not. You will enforce the spellwork, you will take your payment, and be gone from here afterward… singing my praises.” He chuckled with good-natured humor, as if his hideous joke was truly quite hilarious indeed.

Kira felt her temper flare and forced it back down with every bit of determination she had. “I assure you, Lord Wentworth, I will do no such thing. I simply will not.”

“You will, I assure you, do just as you are told and then leave with no unpleasant memories to bother you. Although I am told there are nightmares, in some with stronger wills…” Some of his humor faded, something wistful in him then as he looked at the rain lashing against the windows, the way the trees blew in a violent wind outside. Thunder rumbled, seemingly further away, the storm moving on. “I could never quite do away with those. My wife used to take laudanum to sleep..."

"Which wife?"

His sharp eyes took her in all over again. "What did you say?"

"I said. I-" Kira’s mouth was dry, her fingertips felt chilled. Cold settled in her chest, laying like a weight over her heart and lungs as she fought to keep her voice even. “I said... which wife required laudanum?"

He gave a humorless chuckle. "I have had four. Three of them have been unable to sleep without assistance from either my siren or some sort of morphia. Four of my children so far have needed it, too. It's a family concern."

"Like tuberculosis? It does seem to do away with your wives quite alarmingly-"

"No." He shook his head. "No, no. That's wholly an accident of fate. That was not me."

"In... in any case. I must refuse this work, and take my leave of your home, respectfully. I will not contact you again, nor charge you for-"

“No.” He shrugged, taking another sip of tea, dainty and distinguished. “Simply put, love, you are going nowhere."

"Don't call me love-"

"The magicians who work for me are paid handsomely, you know, and they remember everything except for what exactly it was they worked on.” He smiled at her, as if they were having a lovely chat over tea and not the sickening litany of criminal actions that kept rolling so easily off his tongue, twisting her stomach in knots.

“I will-... I should report this.” She shouldn't have said that out loud. She was trapped in this man’s home as he casually admitted to crimes worse than nearly any other, and saying she would report him for it? What absolute stupidity.

The storm outside was too violent to risk and yet she felt a wild urge to run out into it and hope that the wind would somehow hide her from pursuit. This man clearly felt absolutely no fear of what could result from her knowing about the creature this early, when they had hardly spoken ten minutes of time and she was refusing the work.

“You could,” He acknowledged. He began to smear the jam on the bread again, the knife scraping in a way that nearly drove her mad. It seemed impossibly loud, despite the thrashing of the wind and rain and the nearly-constant roll of thunder outside. “I am personal friends with His Majesty, who I imagine would be quite upset if someone maligned my character.”

Her heart was pounding. “... have you even spelled the king? This... this is madness.”

His knife paused. He looked up at her without raising his chin, his perfectly average little face bathed in a malevolent smile. “I am a loyal citizen,” He said, gently even, as if speaking to a dim-witted child. “But I am well-read and quite experienced in the machinations of politics. I offer advice, and often he finds it worthwhile to listen. Simple as that.”

“I… I’m going to take my leave, sir.” Kira managed a bow - somehow. “I appreciate the generous of-offer of compensation, but I will… I cannot work on any job where my duties involve profane magics. It violates my most sacred vows. I will. I will leave the city when the weather clears and trouble you no longer."

Kira turned, ready to run.

Instead, she found herself faced with the single largest two men she had ever seen in her life. She hadn’t even heard them enter, but now they blocked the door.

They watched her with impassive, fogged-over eyes in flat faces, arms crossed before them. They must be twins, they were so similar as to nearly be identical - men with dark hair and dark, close-cropped beards and dark eyes. She had to look up and up and up to see them, and they looked down at her, even though she was not a short woman by any means.

Lord Wentworth’s chair scraped behind her.

When she spun to look back at him, the two men behind her made their move. She darted to one side, but she wasn’t fast enough.

Wentworth caught her by her skirts, sending her crashing without dignity to the ground as the cloth ripped with a sound that seemed deafening. The breath was knocked out of her and she gasped, mouth open like a fish out of water. One of the huge men grabbed her by the arms and dragged her back upright, holding her like a squirming little girl as she coughed, begging her lungs to work, finally inhaling audibly.

She caught Wentworth across the chin with her boot, and felt a brief flash of fierce joy in the sight. Then his hand slammed palm-flat into the side of her face with a crack and she slumped, the world a dizzy spin. A trickle ran down from her nose, and she tasted copper when she licked her lips.

The strap of her magic kit was pulled off of her, and she groaned, struggling weakly to grab at it and failing. “No, giv-... giv’t back…”

“Take her to her room,” Wentworth commanded. All the quiet artifice and nobility had gone, leaving something altogether coarser and far colder behind. Kira’s vision blurred as she tried to look back up to see his face, and he slapped her again, and again, and again until she stopped trying to look up at all, until she hung boneless in the rough, thick-fingered hands of the guards.

Her hair hung in her face, fallen loose entirely now. Her face felt hot on one side, throbbing with her racing pulse.

Wentworth sighed. “What a pity it had to begin this way. Well, no matter. I have had at least one marriage begin much worse than this. We have accommodations already prepared for you, Miss Losna. My staff here will see you to them.”

“No,” She said. It came out a croak. “Nnnn-... no.”

He slapped her - a backhand this time - and she cried out. The thunder swallowed it up, as if the very sky was mocking her. At her sound of pain, Wentworth's smile finally looked sincere. “Do not refuse me, Miss Losna, it isn’t wise. Ask any of my wives or children, and they will tell you it's best to simply do what I wish. You will do the work. You will be paid, and then you will leave remembering only a fearsome serpent and a normal house, and what delightful company I was. Or… you can continue to refuse, remain a prisoner in my home until I tire of you, then find yourself utterly adoring each and every moment of my time, giving up your freedom and future in service to your morality... and then losing all those things anyway, as everything about you becomes mine."

He moved one hand up into her hair, fingers sliding along her scalp until he gripped tightly and wrenched her head backwards, forcing her eyes up to his. His forgettable face burned with an old fury. Her throat was bared to him, her vision blurred and swimming. She had a moment of irrational terror that he would open her veins, somehow, with the butter knife covered in jam. Simply slit her from ear to ear, and there would be no way to tell the difference between strawberry and sugar and blood.

“Refuse me and it may as well be a farewell letter to all you love,” Wentworth whispered. “Lose your future, lose the promise and dreams you have had. Find yourself washing my dishes as if it were the greatest future you ever could have imagined… and find yourself in my rooms at night, if I want you. There's nothing all that new or interesting about you, but perhaps you'll surprise me. Refuse me and lose the life of a renowned magician. Instead ,spend it being content in drudgery. Sacrifice all that you are and become whatever tiny, mean little thing I command you to be, and love every single second of it."

She spat in his face.

He wiped at his cheek. “Fine. Lose your life to my desires, if you wish. That is a sacrifice I am quite happy to make. Better women than you already have."

He let go of her hair and went back to his chair, sitting down, picking up his little cup of tea, and going back to his morning as if nothing had happened at all.

The men dragged her away, all her kicking and pulling and struggle meaning nothing to their strength and solid, immovable obedience to command.

“Oh, and Miss Losna?” Lord Guilford Wentworth called after her smugly, “Let me be the first to welcome you home."

Taglist: @grizzlie70 @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings @there-will-always-be-blood @latenightcupsofcoffee

For @whumptober 26, 27, 28

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aziraphalesbookkeeper · 11 months

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“Varian.” The boy pauses. The body slowly turns. In a slow, eerie movement, Varian tilts his head. He looks like a doll with an unblinking stare. It’s creepy as hell, but not as unsettling as what comes out of his mouth. “Hello, Horace.” Or: Every full moon, Varian becomes a little less of himself, and a little more of something else.

Whumptober Day 30: Bridal carry AILESS Whumptober Day 26: Magical Exhaustion or injury / Curse / Came back wrong

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quietlyimplode · 11 months

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the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 26 - You look awful

Warnings: injuries

Word Count: 1.3k (gif not mine)

Summary: aftermath of the taking of the tower. The avengers reunite.

A/N: <3

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

2014

NEW YORK

Tony feels sick.

Pulled into consciousness as he feels the air on his fall face; he twists in the wrongness of being held and flown all at once.

“Tony— no!” a male voice calls.

He feels like he’s falling even as he’s picked up again, pressure on his stomach; the movement jarring and causing him to vomit into the air.

“Oh—no.”

He looks up and sees Sam and his wings, before the ground rushes to meet him.

Natasha hugs Clint, taking his head in her hands and pushing her forehead to his.

“You look awful,” she whispers, her hand coming away with blood.

“Are you—“

She sees Yelena behind him and her face morphs.

“You both came to rescue me?”

She pulls Yelena into a hug.

Steve stands awkwardly behind them and Yelena looks to him.

“I’m umm, Steve,” he says waving a little.

“I know who you are, Captain America,” she smiles.

He nods, chagrined.

“How do we get out?” Clint asks looking around, “where Tony, Pepper, Maria and Sam? Have you found them?”

Steve nods, and Natasha sits back down, the sun rising, overhead.

It feels like it’s been such a long night.

“They should be on the ground now,” he replies.

“Sam will come back once Tony is safe.”

Clint looks around, Christmas paraphernalia everywhere.

He feels sad, and guilty that they weren’t here to help.

Despite all the building movements, there’s only parts of the budding where the concrete has fallen, smashed and sunken; some of it still feels untouched.

“What happened here?”

Steve paces around.

“The electricity went out, I think someone tried to attack the building - there were shadows around—“

“We killed some Hydra men,” Yelena adds helpfully.

“Oh, okay,” he pauses, “it must have been them? They must have entered the building, because Jarvis wasn’t responding, then the building shut down. I couldn’t leave, until you and Bruce came,” he says to Natasha.

“Do you think he’s okay?” he adds worriedly.

Natasha nods.

“He’ll be okay, the Hulk will take care of him,” she assures.

“We found Maria, and then Sam, and Pepper; but Tony, it took us a while to get to him, he was knocked out,” she finishes.

“What’s a Jarvis?” Yelena asks .

“AI,” Clint tells her, “but like a good one that helps a lot.”

She sees Sam in the sky and points.

They move to the edge of the building and he waves as he lands safely next to them.

“Who’s next?” he asks, offering a hand.

“How’s Tony?” Natasha asks, pushing Yelena forward.

“He’s okay, he’s with Pepper, they’re taking them both to hospital now. Maria is organising everyone well.”

The sun is brighter now, opening over the city, as it begins the day; most blissfully unaware of the commotion of the tower.

“I’ll come back,” he promises, taking Yelena’s hand, “and I won’t drop you.”

He grasps his back.

“Good, because that would be a stupid way to die,” she deadpans.

Sam nods, and takes off with her; leaving Steve, Clint and Natasha standing on the precipice of the building.

“Is your head okay?” Natasha asks softly, sitting on the edge of the open building.

Clint perches next to her.

“Flew threw a window with your sister in hand,” he tells her, “then there a building coming down around us.”

Natasha checks him, and finds a gash in his hairline.

“I think it’ll need stitches,” she winces.

He touches, and copies her face, “I guess we will see Tony at the hospital anyway.”

Sam returns and she motions for him to take Clint, who argues to take Natasha and then rolls his eyes and takes Steve instead.

“Your turn next okay?” Natasha tells him, nudging him, “otherwise I’m kicking you off the building and Sam will have to save you.”

Clint grumbles and nods, and they wait side by side as the sun continues to rise.

The hospital is not Natasha’s favourite place, but for her friends she’ll take it, reframe it as a place of healing, and supposed safety.

One look at Yelena’s face, though, and she can feel the anxiety roll off her.

In an instant, she grabs at her hand and squeezes.

“It’s okay,” she says in Russian, “it’s not for us.”

It does nothing to alleviate the anxiety and fear but somehow pushes her to follow Clint into the med bay to get his head stitched.

“I’ll stay with him,” she offers, watching Natasha as she looks around and tries to see any of the others.

Her hypervigilance does nothing to help calm Clint as he does the same, both of them stressed at the outcome for Tony and Bruce, even Maria and Pepper.

Steve and Sam had left them - wanting to figure out the Tower and make sure if there was anything to happen they were there to help.

Steve also reasoned that he was probably the only one strong enough to move anything and Sam had the knowledge to reboot the tower, or at the very least thought he did.

If they could do that, then maybe, they could find out who tried to infiltrate the tower.

The doctor starts with Clint and Natasha rises, Yelena stays and nods swapping positions, so she can see what the doctor is doing.

For Natasha it feels more protective than curious.

She doesn’t really know what happened between them in the hours they were alone together, but the tentative trust seems to be something that both of them had built.

Leaving, Natasha sees Pepper’s blonde hair, and almost runs towards her, her relief at finding her mostly unscathed, except for what looks like a few bruises and cuts, is explicit as she hugs her.

“How’s Tony?” she asks.

Pepper starts to cry, and apologizes for it.

“I’m sorry, I just.. The building fell underneath us and I thought he was dead. We were trapped before - his arm, was caught. He’s in surgery now, they say it’s just to make sure the bones heal right.”

She hides her face and Natasha rubs her back.

“Come with me,” she says, and leads her to Yelena and Clint, sitting her down gently.

“He’ll be okay,” she promises.

Clint says hello, and Natasha introduces Yelena, who nods but doesn’t say anything, unsure what to do with tears and a weeping woman.

“Do you know where Maria is?” Natasha asks, wanting to set eyes on everyone, now they weren’t in a falling building.

Pepper shrugs.

The doctor had finished with Clint, giving them the instructions for cleaning the wound, then looked around.

“Does anyone else need anything?”

Shaking her head, Natasha smiles.

“No thanks,” she nods, despite the bruises on her ribs where the Hulk had grabbed her, or even the headache that seemed to be building from before the day started.

The doctor checks with the others and then leaves them in the room.

“God I’m tired,” she admits, openly.

“Me too,” Clint groan, leaning back on the plinth.

Yelena sighs.

Taking a moment in the quiet, no one dares to break the silence, each in their own thoughts.

Tony lays unconscious, surrounded by Natasha, Rhodey, Clint, Steve, Sam and Pepper.

Yelena had left, with a promise to return, swearing to Natasha she’d be back.

Bruce still hadn’t turned up, but there’s been no reports of the Hulk smashing anything, and Fury had promised to look whilst they all waited for Tony to wake up.

Natasha stands, feeling strange and not wanting to be around anyone.

It started to feel too much.

Clint looks at her sharply before she signs she needs to go to the toilet.

He nods and leans back into his chair.

Leaving, she looks for a stairwell, a spare room, anything to break down in.

She feels the flood of emotions and the let down from the adrenaline, feels the loss of home and safety in an area that was supposed to be the safest.

She could have lost her friends.

Family.

Natasha feels tears coming as she squats in the corner of the room, obscured by chairs and lets the emotions come.

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darkkitty1208 · 11 months

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Entry for Whumptober 2023, prompt no. 26: Working To Exhaustion.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Doctor Strange (Movies), Iron Man (Movies) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Tony Stark/Stephen Strange Characters: Stephen Strange, Tony Stark Additional Tags: Mentioned Wong (Marvel), Ficlet, Exhaustion, Humorous Ending, Stephen Strange is So Done, Tired Stephen Strange Series: Part 19 of Whumptober 2023 Summary:

To say Stephen is exhausted would be an understatement.

#whumptober2023 #no. 26 #working to exhaustion #marvel cinematic universe #doctor strange #iron man #fic #stephen strange #tony stark #ironstrange #my writing

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ajpendragon · 1 year

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Doubts

John blinked vigorously to clear his vision, forcing the two projections floating in front of him to merge back into one. A flick of his finger and the ship schematics spun in front of him, faster than he had intended it to. The movement threw him off balance, a rare occurrence in zero gravity, only possible because of his exhausted state. He drifted back into the wall, colliding with it roughly.

“John, it has been roughly 72 hours since you last slept. It would be wise to take a break. You are too tired to be any use at the moment.”

“I’m fine, EOS. I have to check everything. All of us are going to be on that ship, and I won’t risk a repeat of last time. I can’t risk my brother’s lives like that. I have to make sure it’s safe.” He continued stubbornly glaring at the schematics, even as his vision swam in front of him. His arms felt too heavy to move, and if he weren’t free-floating in space, he would have been collapsed on the floor.

The hologram flickered out, and he knew EOS had put her foot down. She would not allow him to work any more, even when he desperately wanted to. “You need to rest. You will be of no use to your brothers if you continue on like this. You look awful, and you are so tired you can barely function.” Her voice softened slightly. “Working yourself to exhaustion to avoid thinking about your problems is not healthy, John.”

He pulled himself slowly down the hallways towards his bed, conceding the fight. He was too tired to argue, and that in itself was clear proof that EOS was right. He never gave up on an argument if he could help it.

John knew exactly what the chances of finding their father still alive were. The likelihood that they were going on a rescue mission was slim to none. People didn’t survive on their own in deep space for as long as Jeff had been gone. All they were likely to find was a body. They had to go, he knew that. To finally have an answer after all these years would be worth everything. But if anything he could do would make it safer, he had to try. Dad wouldn’t have wanted them to recklessly risk their lives on the very unlikely chance that he was still alive.

John had not been good enough to save his father.

His brothers were all he had left.

And he refused to lose them too.

*******************************************

Alan clutched the photograph tightly in his hand. There weren’t many paper pictures left, most saved on computers and phones now, but this one was special. Each of his brothers had one as well, but his was the most well-worn. Everyone else didn’t need the picture as much, having enough clear memories of Dad that it wasn’t as necessary for them, but he did. He had been too young to remember much when Dad disappeared, and with the years, the few memories he had faded. He knew that Scott looked like Dad, everyone said so, but what they never mentioned was the little scar on the corner of Dad’s chin, just barely visible in the photo.

They didn’t mention how his eyes looked so much like Gordon’s, or how his smile reminded them of John. They never mentioned the smile lines around his mouth just like Virgil’s. In fact, as Alan stared at the picture, he could see each of his brothers there. Everyone except himself. Each of his brothers remembered when Dad was around, too. They had dozens of stories, which Alan had heard many times over the years. They knew where they fit in the family with Dad there. They remembered a life with him.

But Alan hadn’t. He didn’t remember his Dad more than bits and pieces, and he was pretty sure most of those memories were from his brothers’ stories. He couldn’t remember a time before. He knew he was a capable astronaut, pilot of Thunderbird 3, valued member of International Rescue, but with his Dad home, where did he belong? His piloting skills couldn’t measure up to someone like the great Jeff Tracy. He was still young. What if Dad pulled him off rescues? Alan had proved himself to Scott, but his dad wouldn’t know that. All he would remember was the child he had left behind.

He curled up on his bed, still grasping the photograph tightly. His father’s face stared back at him, his smile now feeling mocking instead of the comfort it usually was. What would Dad say when they found him? Would he even remember him? Would he be proud of him, or disappointed in what he had become?

He wanted Dad home, there was no question about that.

He just hoped that he wouldn’t be a disappointment next to the child Dad remembered.

*******************************************

Gordon flipped the light on, banishing the shadows to the corners of the room. He wasn’t sleeping anyways, so might as well do something. A book was picked up and just as quickly tossed aside, unable to hold his attention. He tried jumping jacks, continuing until his breathing came heavy, but he was no more ready for sleep now than he was before. He briefly considered pranking one of his brothers, but quickly discarded that idea. They needed their sleep, and he wasn’t thoughtless enough to deprive them of it. He ended up settled cross-legged on the floor, staring at his fish tank, watching the animals drift slowly through the water.

The motion, though calming, wasn’t enough to occupy his entire mind, and the shadows began to creep back in. Ever since he had found the beacon, he had been fighting them off, but they continued to return, only growing stronger in the dark of night. No matter what he told them, they refused to leave, doubts long-hidden that had not been forgotten with time, only buried.

What if Dad was didn’t want him? He was the odd one out, the only aquanaut in a family of pilots. While the rest of his family had spent their entire lives attempting to leave the ground behind, with varying degrees of success, he had embraced the restraint of earth. Water was his element, not air. He hated flying. He hated space.

Dad had never said anything to dissuade him from his passion, but he had never encouraged him either. Maybe he had been hoping time would cure Gordon of the foolish notion of remaining earth-bound. It probably should have. The rest of the family was so connected, so similar in their desires, their wants, their loves. But no matter how much they tried to convince him otherwise, Gordon knew the truth. His father’s shadow stretched over everything he did. He had made a place, a name for himself while Dad was gone, but with him back?

He didn’t belong.

*******************************************

Virgil settled his headphones more securely over his ears, adjusting his position on the bench. It wasn’t often that he played his electric piano, much preferring the grand in the family room. The sound was better, and there was always a brother or two around to share it with, but tonight felt like a night to be alone. They were each processing in their own ways, him as much as anyone. He and his father had never gotten along as well as some of his brothers, Virgil reminding Jeff too much of what he had lost.

But they had shared some loves. Jeff had loved music, not as much as Lucy and Virgil, but he had some favorite songs. Lucy had recorded him one night, hiding the camera in the corner to catch his singing, something he never would have done if he had known he was being watched. It was an odd choice for an astronaut’s favorite song, but Jeff had always been a realist. He knew the dangers to be found in space, but he felt compelled to go anyways. It was worth the risk to him.

Of course, the risk hadn’t just taken a toll on him, but on his children as well. Especially now that they knew there was a chance he could still be out there, the song held a whole new meaning. Virgil pressed the start button on the recording, settling his hands on the keys as he played accompaniment to his father’s voice.

Can you hear, can you hear, can you hear my voice?

Coming through, coming through, coming through the noise

The recording continued, Virgil fighting back tears to be able to see the keys. He could imagine his dad singing the same song out in the vastness of space, hoping desperately that someone would hear him. That someone would save him.

It's so dark, it's so dark out here in space

And it's been so long, been so long since I've seen a face

My eyes are shut but I can see

The void between you and me, mm

And I feel, and I feel like I'm going insane

Virgil could only imagine what it would do to someone to live for so long on their own. When they first found out there was a chance Dad was still alive, he had done a deep dive into all the medical research he could find with any bearing on their situation. He knew the effects of low or no gravity on a human’s body, and how to help. He knew what to do if Dad hadn’t been eating enough, how to rebuild a body after prolonged nutrient deficiency. But there wasn’t enough research on what solitary confinement did to a person’s mind. He knew it was bad, that it had been banned as a punishment for years for a reason, but no one knew how to fix the damage it caused.

He didn’t know how to fix it, and he didn’t know how to deal with that. He was supposed to be the one who fixed everything, and he couldn’t let everyone down. His brothers were believed in him. His dad was counting on him.

He didn’t know if he believed in himself.

*******************************************

Scott pushed himself harder, forcing his limbs to cooperate and propel him even faster down the path. His brothers would have tried to stop him from running at night, but they had all gone to bed hours ago, and he had needed the release. His thoughts were too loud to allow him to sleep, and so he forced himself to go even faster, hoping to leave them behind.

What if Dad didn’t approve of what he had done with International Rescue?

His brothers risked their lives almost daily. What would Dad say when he found out about that?

Tracy Industries now was quite different than it was when Dad left. Scott had done his best, but some of the decisions he had made weren’t very popular. What if his dad didn’t agree with them either?

He ran harder.

What if he had made a mistake in allowing Alan to join on rescues? True, they had needed another astronaut after Jeff’s disappearance, but he was still so young.

What about the scars that each of his brothers bore, both on their skin and on their hearts? He should have been the one to bear those. They never should have had to. What would Dad say when he saw them?

It didn’t seem to matter how fast he went. He couldn’t outrun the voices. They grabbed onto him, closing his throat and tightening in his chest, cutting off his breathing. They took the face of his father, fuzzy and distorted by time, all glaring at him, shouting the same thing. “I’m disappointed in you, Scott. You failed me.”

Scott collapsed to his knees, clasping his hands over his ears to drown out their shouts. All the fears he had fought for years were coming back to haunt him. All the decisions he had made questioned. All the thoughts that kept him awake at night crowded forward at once, demanding to be addressed.

No. Scott pushed himself to his feet, refusing to buckle under the pressure. It didn’t matter what Dad said when they got him back. They were going to get him anyway. It didn’t matter if it was hard or dangerous. They were International Rescue, and that’s what they did. It didn’t matter if the person they were searching for didn’t approve of them. They saved people. And they were going to save their dad.

If he hated Scott when they found him, then so be it. Scott knew he had done what was right, and he could live with a clear conscience, and the knowledge that his brothers were alive because of him. He had done his best, but if his father couldn’t see that, he didn’t know what he would do.

If his father hated him, he didn’t know if he could live with it.

*******************************************

The next night, wrapped in the warm arms of their father, doubts were laid to rest, and they all knew they would be okay.

Dad didn’t hate him.

He wasn’t a failure.

He was worth believing in.

He belonged in this family.

He wasn’t a disappointment.

He was good enough.

*******************************************

He was finally home.

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firstdegreefangirl · 11 months

Text

Come Lay Down

"Roy.” Jamie rubs his eyes as he stops at the bottom of the stairs. “You comin’ to bed? ‘S late.”

He’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and nothing else, and there are lines across his skin to mirror the wrinkles of the sheets. Jamie went to be hours ago, is only awake now because he needed to use the bathroom. And apparently because someone has to make sure Roy takes care of himself.

“I’ll be up in a minute,” he says, without looking up from the folder he’s reading. “Just going to finish this set of articles first.”

“Roy.” Jamie stumbles on his way across the living room, still not completely awake. “It’s almost three. C’mon, you aren’t really gonna make me sleep up there all by meself?”

“You’re a big lad, you’ll be fine.”

Read the rest on ao3 here!

#katie writes #kw23 #royjamie #ted lasso #roy kent #jamie tartt #whumptober #whumptober 2023 #fic #no. 26 #working to exhaustion

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topguncortez · 2 years

Text

Day 26: No One Left Behind ➢prompt: "Why did you save me?" ➢character: Robert "Bob" Floyd ➢warnings: hazing, underaged drinking, toxic parents, near drowning, fear of water ➢word count: 3.3k ➢masterlist | whumptober | library

Bob never liked large bodies of water. He grew up in a landlocked town in the middle of nowhere Wyoming. The only things to do in the summer were to run in the backyard through a sprinkler or to go to the pond. Everyone went to the lake, it was the place to be during the unforgiving summers. Kids, teens and adults would spend their days on the sand shores, fishing, sunbathing or playing in the water. Bob didn’t like the lake because of what lurked underneath the surface. He had seen the pictures of the large fish that fishermen pulled out of there. He had heard the rumors and the legends of different ghouls and demons that supposedly haunted the waters and would pull unsuspecting swimmers into its depths. But what really sealed the deal for Bob hating the lake, was when his younger brother pushed him off the family pontoon.

His parents didn’t realize Bob had gone overboard for several moments, he usually was behind them in the back, silent and holding on to his lifejacket tightly. But it was Bob’s older sister who shouted that the then six year old Bob was in the middle of the lake.

“Mom! Bob fell over!” She shouted.

“Oh my god!” His mother shouted and his dad quickly turned the boat around. Bob was luckily wearing a life jacket, but was kicking and splashing around, trying to get the lake grass off of his legs. His glasses had fallen off and were sinking towards the bottom, which caused more panic as he couldn’t see what was going on. When his father got close to him, he jumped into the water and swam over to where he was. Bob clung to him, his hands tightening around the shirt he wore.

“Kick your goddamn legs, Rob,” His father cursed as he swam them back to the boat. He lifted up the little boy into his mother’s arms and Bob clung on tightly to her.

“Oh my baby boy,” She cooed, and dried him with a towel, “I’m so sorry we didn’t notice.”

“Well maybe if he would fucking talk,” His dad cursed again, stepping up onto the platform of the boat, “Fucking say something next time or swim your ass back to shore.”

“David!”

“Well?” His father shrugged, “Kid needs to learn to do something for himself. Quit fucking babying him.”

Ever since that day, Bob did all he could to avoid water. But that seemed to be a bit of a paradox when he joined the Navy. His dad even laughed at him when he came home with his enlistment packet in his hands.

“You can’t fucking look at water without panicking. The fuck did you join the Navy for?”

“To help pay for school,” Bob said softly, “And they’ll teach me at boot camp.”

Which was true. His father had told him from a young age that they would never be able to pay for his college. That he would have to figure it out by himself. His older siblings didn’t go to college. His two older sisters MaryAnn and Elizabeth both married local ranchers. His brother Michael was set to take over the family ranch. But Bob was determined to not be stuck in no named Wyoming for the rest of his life.

And Bob was right, they did teach him how to swim in boot camp. It wasn’t beautiful, but he could pass the swim test and keep himself above water. But Bob knew that he wasn’t going to willingly jump into the pool and go for a swim. It also helped that he was wearing a life jacket the whole time, which gave him some comfort. After boot camp, Bob had gotten his acceptance letter into the Naval Academy. His mother cried when he told her, and didn’t stop crying until after they dropped him off in Maryland. Bob had never been to the east coast before, nor spent this much time away from his family. What kept him going in boot camp was the fact that he would be home in ten weeks. Now he was moving across the country.

Bob had three roommates in his tiny four person dorm; Geco, Tank, and Hermes. They were almost the polar opposite of Bob. Each of them were nearly 6’2 and built. Hermes currently holds the class record for fastest PT test. Though Bob couldn’t compete with them physically, he competed with them in the classroom. They envied the way Bob just understood everything that was being taught in their classes, and hardly had to study for exams to do perfect. Bob had offered to help them study, but they all shot it down. Most people in the class had envied Bob, and labeled him as the enemy, except Y/N.

Y/N, like Bob, was also on the outskirts of their class. She was a legacy student, her dad being the current commander of the pacific fleet. She had gone by her mother’s maiden name, so she could make a name for herself fair and square, but it was unmistakable who’s daughter she was, with her bright blue eyes and blonde hair. Oh, and the way she was ice cold. Unlike Bob, she didn’t let the whispers and the jokes bother her. She let them bounce off her back and continued on with her studies.

“Hey, Frost,” Hermes said. Bob was currently in the library, sitting att a table across the room from where Frost was. She had been there as long as Bob had been, her nose in a text book, “We’re having a little party this weekend at the SigEp house. You should come.”

“And why would I do that?” Y/N asked.

“Cause I’ll be there,” He smirked and held his hands out. Bob watched as Frost rolled her eyes and turned around, “Come on, don’t be so cold,” She continued to ignore him, which was something Hermes couldn’t stand. Bob watched as he clenched his jaw, “Fine. Just so you know, the only way you’re here is because your dad is fucking Iceman Kazansky. He probably couldn’t stand having a fuck up as a daughter and had to do some chairty work.”

Bob’s eyes widened at Hermes' words, and waited to see what she would do. He watched her body shake as she gripped her pencil in a vice grip, causing the wood to splinter. Hermes also watched her, and let out a laugh seeing no response from her, and advised his little posse to leave her table. Bob waited for them to leave, before standing up from his own table and walked over to her.

“You deserve to be here,” Bob said softly. Y/N looked up at him and his heart faltered a bit, seeing the tears in her eyes. His jaw dropped and he quickly dug in his backpack, looking for the packet of kleenex he usually kept on him. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as she watched him dig around in his bag, before stretching his shaky hand out and offering her the kleenex. She smiled at him and took it.

“Thank you, Bob,” Y/N said.

“You know who I am?”

“Of course, Bob Floyd, political science major. You sit in front of me during intro to strat,” Y/N said and packed up her books. Bob watched her as she moved quickly, “Thanks again. And I’ll see you at the party.”

“Y-Yeah!” Bob called out to her. Once she was out of the library Bob cursed himself, “What the hell? You’re not going to the party. You don’t party.”

— — —

The music was too loud for Bob’s liking. He didn’t understand how people would like their music this loud. He couldn’t even understand what was being said. The house was hot and stuffy, with people all over the place. Bob found a corner of the kitchen that was somewhat uncrowded and close to the table of snacks. He was nursing a cup of sprite that he had poured himself and snacking on the various mixes. Bob had never been to a party before.

His eyes scanned the kitchen, looking for Y/N. He knew that she was either already here or showing up late. He had watched Mean Girls before coming to the party, to somewhat understand what to expect. Apparently, you didn’t show up to parties at the time the host said they started, so Bob waited nearly an hour before arriving. He also felt slightly overdressed in his khaki pants, button up shirt, and vans. His roommates were wearing jeans and tshirts, and Bob made a mental note to go shopping for some.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Bob turned around and let out a breath, “Bobby Floyd? At a party.”

“Hangman,” Bob sighed, “How are you?”

“How am I?” Hangman said, “I am magnificent. How are you? And why are you here?”

“I was invited,” Bob said.

Hangman raised his eyebrows in surprise. Jake Seresin was two years older than Bob, and had met him during recruitment over the summer, and was one of the peer leaders in his tactile movement and strategy class. Jake was also the quarterback for the football team, and had perfectly styled blonde hair and a bright smile. Bob had tried to hide in the back of the class, but Jake easily picked him out of the class, and told him he was “taking him under his wing”. Bob took in the sight of Jake’s outfit, dark blue jeans, a fitted black t-shirt, and cowboy boots.

“So really, why are you here?” Jake asked again.

Bob opened his mouth to answer, when he heard Y/N’s voice enter the kitchen. She walked right past him, a couple girls right behind her. His blue eyes watched as she greeted some of the other party go-ers and poured herself a drink. Jake followed Bob’s eyesight and smirked.

“The admiral’s daughter!? Way to go Bobby Boy,” Jake clapped him on the back, “I knew you didn’t just decide to show up cause you were “invited”.”

“Why is it so hard to believe-”

“Go talk to her,” Jake said.

“Oh no, I-I can’t,” Bob shook his head, “She’s with. . . him.” Jake squinted his eyes and looked back up at where Y/N was now being crowded by Hermes. She looked uncomfortable as he put his hands on her hips and tried to pull her back into his chest.

“The dude trying to force himself on her? Hermes? Nah, she’s not into him.”

“Well, he looks into her.”

“Bob, trust me, she’s not into him,” Jake said.

“How do you know?”

“Cause she’s walking over here right now,” Bob lifted his head up and his eyes widened as she walked over with determination. Jake took a step back as Y/N put herself by Bob, and wrapped a hand around his waist.

“Babe! You’re here!” She smiled and kissed his cheek, “I told you, Adrian, my boyfriend is here.”

“My fucking roommate? Next you’re going to tell me that his crying at night is actually cause you’re giving him head and not cause he misses his mom,” Hermes joked.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Y/N sassed. Jake smirked at Bob, who looked uncomfortable. Jake rolled his eyes, and subtly grabbed Bob’s hand to put around Y/N’s waist. He jumped at the feeling and Jake just nodded.

“Listen, Hermes, how bout you and the freshman jock squad go take a walk,” Jake said, “You guys are fucking wasted. Now go, or I tell Coach Smith and we run Death Hill until someone really dies.”

The group all agreed and disbanded. Y/N waited a bit, still keeping her arm around Bob until they were out of eyeshot. She sighed and untangled herself from Bob’s side, and Bob had to fight back a frown.

“Thanks, Floyd,” She said and walked away from him.

— — —

It was a beautiful night, and Bob could see the stars for once. That was something he missed since moving out East. You could hardly see the stars at night due to all the city lights and pollution. Back home, Bob would lay on his roof and look at the stars until the late hours at night. It helped calm him. He knew all the constellations in the sky, and could tell you their stories, and what season they are most prominent in. Currently, he was looking at Orion, and recalling one of his favorite stories about the constellation.

He wondered if Y/N liked the stars too. He was surprised how quiet it was outside, most people preferred to be inside the sweaty, hot house. Those outside were couples making out, girls having a drunk heart to heart, or people smoking weed. Bob had been offered a joint, but was too scared to do it. He had smoked weed once with his older sister, and could remember how angry his dad had gotten when he threw up on the floor. Bob swore he wasn’t going to try the drug again.

Bob’s moment of quiet was cut off by a hand landing on his shoulder. He jumped and looked over his shoulder at Hermes, Tank and Geco standing behind him. He felt his stomach drop and he scrambled to try and get away, but Tank and Geco grabbed his arms.

“Bob, I don’t think we have properly introduced you to the SigEp house,” Hermes smirked.

“I-I’ve been here before,” Bob said.

“Oh yeah, with Seresin,” Hermes nodded, “Your little butt buddy? Oh wait. . . that’s Frost isn’t it. Sorry I forget, that you like both of them to fuck you.”

“I don’t do-”

“I don’t give a fuck who fucks you in the ass, Floyd. But stay away from my girl.”

“She’s not yours,” Bob sneered. He wasn’t sure where that came from, but he hated the way Hermes was talking about Y/N. She wasn’t an object he could own.

“No? Then why was she just sucking on my dick and not yours?” Hermes laughed and Bob felt himself deflate a bit, but shook his head.

“Just let me go. I’ll leave the party,” Bob said honestly.

“Oh no. . . No can do. Bobby Boy. It’s time for NIGHT SWIMMING!” Hermes yelled loudly, which seemed to get the attention of some of those in the house, because a group came rushing out. Y/N was dancing with Jake when she heard the commotion from outside. Her and Jake shared a look before pushing through the crowd to go outside. Jake saw Hermes first, standing up on a chair and cursed.

“Shit. . .” Jake said, “It’s Bob.”

Y/N pushed her way through the crowd and made it down the deck to the pool. Bob looked terrified in Geoc and Tank’s hold as Hermes was taunting him. She had been to enough frat parties to know what was going to happen. Hermes grabbed a random beer as Tank held Bob’s chin open. He dumped the alcohol into Bob’s mouth, not caring that he was fighting against the hold on his arms and choking. The crowd seemed to instigate the brutality even more as the three boys stripped Bob of his clothes.

“Adrian! Stop, just let him go!” Y/N pleaded.

“Oh look Floyd, you’re little girl friend is here. Hope you can swim!” Hermes yelled.

“Throw him in! Throw him in! Throw him in!” The crowd cheered. Bob was frozen in fear, only in his underwear and socks. He tried with all his might to push out of Tank and Geco’s arms, but it was no use as they pushed him into the deepest part of the pool. The crowd all cheered as Bob was tossed in, the boys high fiving each other.

“Help! Help me!”” Bob yelled as he started thrashing.

“Calm the fuck down Floyd,” Hermes spat.

“I can’t swim!” Bob felt his lungs starting to close up as he breathed in water. He frantically kicked his arms and legs, trying to keep himself up. The panic rose in his chest, and suddenly he felt like he was back in the lake as a child. He couldn’t see much other than blobs of people staring at him.

“Bob!” Y/N ran towards the edge of the pool. Hermes grabbed her waist to stop her, but she kneed him in the balls, “Burn in hell.” She spat at Hermes, before jumping into the pool.

Bob’s head started to spin as he felt his body being pulled under. He could feel the tears running down his face as fear had him in a vice grip. Y/N swam to him fast, and wrapped her arms around his chest.

“Calm down!” She yelled, worried that Bob was going to pull her under as well, “I got you, kick your legs with me.”

“I can’t!” Bob gasped out.

“You can,” Y/N grunted and wrapped her arms under his armpits. Jake had made his way down to the side of the pool, and knelt down. “Breathe, Bob, I got you.” Bob took a deep breath as Y/N reached the edge of the pool. Jake grabbed Bob’s arms and pulled him out of the water. The crowd around was shocked as Bob laid on his back, coughing up water. Y/N pushed herself out of the pool, and helped roll Bob on his side, so he didn’t choke. Bob let out a sob, as he pushed himself up to his hands and knees.

“We got you, Bob,” Jake said, rubbing his back. Y/N wasn’t sure what to say, brushed the wet locks of blonde hair out of his eyes.

“The bitch can’t swim!” Hermes chuckled.

“You could’ve killed him!” Y/N yelled at Hermes.

“Just pointing out the weak ones,” Hermes shrugged.

Y/N clenched her jaw and went to stand up, but Bob grabbed her wrist. She looked down at him and he shook his head. His chest was still heaving up and down, his blue eyes wet with tears. Y/N nodded and knelt back down next to him.

“Alright. . . EVERYONE GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE!” Jake yelled and the crowd quickly dispersed. Jake was angry and looked down at Bob, who seemed to be doing a bit better, “I’m going to get a towel. You okay?” Bob nodded and Jake looked at Y/N, “Frost?”

“I will be,” Y/N said and Jake nodded, walking towards the house, “I’m so sor-”

“I’m sorry,” Bob said, “Your dress is ruined.”

“Are you really concerned about my dress?” She asked in disbelief, “Bob, you nearly died and you are worried about my dress.”

“Seems expensive,” Bob waited a moment, sitting down on his butt and running a hand through his hair, “Shit. . . my glasses.”

“Oh, I think they are at the bottom,” Y/N peered over the edge of the pool, and sure enough, his glasses were sitting at the bottom, “I can get-” He grabbed her wrist again to stop her.

“Why did you save me?”

“You needed-”

“No,” Bob shook his head, “Someone would’ve jumped in eventually when I went passive. But why did you save me?”

“Because. . . I like you Bob,” Y/N admitted, “A lot. And I should’ve done more to stop Adrian, and I am so sorry for what they did. This is going to be dealt with. They won’t get away with this, I plan on letting my-” Her words were cut off as Bob grabbed her face and kissed her. She froze for a split second, before kissing him back. Bob’s hand caressed her face as her hands went to the back of his neck. Their kiss was split up by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them.

“Well, excuse me for interrupting and saving my mentee from pneumonia,” Jake said, and handed Bob a towel, “You going to be okay, Floyd?”

“I don’t plan on going swimming anytime soon,” Bob said looking up at Jake and then at Y/N, “But yeah,” He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers together, “I’ll be okay.”

#top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick imgaine #bob floyd #bob floyd fan fic #bob floyd fan fiction #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #whumptober #no. 26 #why did you save me #tw: drowning

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clintbartonruinedmylife · 11 months

Text

Whumptober 2023 - Day 26

"Working to exhaustion, You look awful"

In the end, Clint thought, it would’ve been better to call the Avengers - or at least some of them - to help him. But he had thought he would manage alone. Maybe he would laugh later.

He was tired as fuck but he managed to kill all the evil aliens alone on his own. It took him more than one day but he won. All alone. On his own. He, a mere human. No super soldier, no magic, no technical gadgets. Just him, his bow and arrows and his stubbornness.

When it was over he slumped down, sat on the ground and just stared at the mess in front of him. And he was tired. So, so, so tired.

“Hawkeye?” someone said but Clint didn’t react. Only when the person touched his shoulder did he look up, bleary-eyed. It took him almost a whole minute to realize that the person was female and had a worried expression on her face. She hunkered down beside him and looked at him.

“Hey,” she said, a smile on her lips now. “How do you feel?”

Clint realized that she wore the typical EMT clothes.

“Tired,” he said. “Just tired.”

“M-hm,” she nodded. “I can only imagine. Are you injured? Do you need something.”

“A bed?” Clint asked and the smile broadened.

“I think that’s a good idea,” she nodded. “Don’t get me wrong, but you look awful. Tell you what. I’ll take you with us to the hospital, we’ll check you through and I promise you a bed. How does that sound?”

“Good, I guess,” Clint yawned and he could actually hear his jaw crack.

“Come on then,” she said and helped him get up, brought him to the ambulance and helped him get in it. And Clint was already asleep on the stretcher by the time she closed the door behind him.

#whumptober2023 #no. 26 #working to exhaustion #you look awful #marvel #fic #clint barton #hawkeye

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eternal--returned · 5 months

Text

Masao Yamamoto ֍ Ambrotype #26 (2022)

#masao yamamoto #ambrotype #no. 26 #photography #fav

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one-piece-aus · 2 years

Note

Hello, if your requests are still open for the remaining days of whumptober, can I ask for Rosinante and Day 26: No One Left Behind? Thank you!

Why yes, they are open! Thank you for your request and I hope you enjoy! ^-^

Whumptober Day 26

Rosinante x Reader

"What's taking them so long?" you wondered out loud to yourself, hanging your head back at looking at the snowy clouds.

Your husband had instructed you and Law to stay on the boat but the boy couldn't sit still and wait. Maybe you should've gone with Rosinante to retrieve the fruit. No, you would've just gotten in his way. The fellow may be clumsy, however, give him a stealth mission and he sneaks with skills rivalling a ninja. You smirk at the thought, that's your hubby for ya.

"It shouldn't be taking them this long." You frown glancing back at the island. "The navy's here, at least I thought I spotted them earlier. Maybe that's why they're taking forever to get here."

You scan the waters, searching for any ship nearby, but the snow made it difficult to gaze at anything further than sixty feet. You huff and fold your arms, crossing your legs over the other, that's when your sense of temperature registers in your brain. You were freezing playing the sitting duck.

You pulled your coat closer together as chills shook your body. You never quite minded the cold in the North Blue, but that was because Rosi had been at your side to warm you up. It's one of your favourite affections you share, and the smiles you shared with each other warmed your hearts. There's no other you'd rather walk through the icy north with, even when he had to go undercover.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"No no no no, you're not doing this operation on your own!" You opposed, waving your spoon at him.

"[Y/n], I have to do this on my own," Rosinante told you, lowering his spoon. "It's my brother, I... I want to reason with him, get him to side with us. I don't want him to end up in prison like every other pirate, he's my brother... and I don't want to betray him, he would never forgive me if I arrested him."

"That's why I'm coming with you," you stated after swallowing a spoon full of boiled cabbage. "You're bound to slip up if you're on your own. Besides, I don't want to sleep alone at night, you know how cold it gets."

"I would be shivering non-stop without you," Rosinante smiled, pulling you in for a side hug.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"That's it! I'm going to look for the two myself," you declared and climbed out of the boat.

Treading through the snowy train, you scan the area for the two. Worry swirled countless thoughts in your mind. What if they went back already? What if Corazon got hurt and that's why they weren't back yet? What if they ran into trouble? The questions feasted on your anxiety. You couldn't hear your body's senses over the noise in your head. Fortunately, your reflexes kicked in and you jumped back just in time when a large spiderweb came down in front of you.

Eyes widen, you felt your breath leave your body, and your heart scrambled. An island-sized birdcage stood before you. There's only one who could wield string like this, only one capable of crafting it in such a way.

Doflamingo's here.

"ROSINANTE!"

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bearsinpotatosacks · 11 months

Text

Never Be the Same - Whumptober 2023

Billy's mum walked out on Neil and him in 1978. Billy wants answers but Neil doesn't want to answer them, leading to the first time he ever hits Billy. It isn't the last.

For day 26 of @whumptober Also on AO3. Shows child abuse so be warned

Words: 850

Sounds of scraping and cutting filled the air as they ate. The food was bland, his dad wasn’t a very good cook, mum wasn’t either but she had practice. Neil thought cooking was a woman’s job, that was until his mum had walked out. He had to learn or they’d starve.

“Stop playing with your food and eat,” his dad said.

It was bland and boiled. His peas were more grey than green. He had to eat them or he’d go hungry, but that seemed more appealing than choking this down.

“If mom was still here, she would’ve made something better,”

“Watch your mouth,” Neil snapped. “You don’t talk about that woman, didn’t we talk about that?”

He stopped moving his knife and fork. His eyes stung as tears welled up. He hated when his dad shouted at him, he hated disappointing him too. It was a simple request but so hard at the same time. He’d gone to bed with her there and woken up without her. It was natural to be curious, right?

“That we don’t mention mom again,”

Neil cleared his throat. The way he looked at him made him unable to not meet his eyes.

“We don’t mention that woman again.”

The tears overflowed as he tried to carry on eating his dinner with shaking hands. He heard his dad’s chair screech across the floor. His shoes smacked against the linoleum as he slammed his hands against the table. Billy dropped his knife and fork. He kept his eyes on his plate, his hands under the table as he tensed them to hide the fear.

“Why are you crying?” He said, voice stern and not raised. “Why are you crying, like a pussy, over her?"

"She left us, Billy, she left us, so she doesn’t deserve your tears. No one does." He lent over him. He could feel his breath on his neck as he flinched away from him.

"But why? Why did she leave?" He asked.

He knew he shouldn’t. Neil didn’t like him asking questions. He said he knew best so why question that. His mum had liked him asking questions, she wanted him to know that the world was big and beautiful and there were so many possibilities. It was hard for him to know when to stop questioning for his dad and start for his mum. It got confusing.

"Because we weren't enough for her," he said, then grabbed him by his collar. "Are you looking at me?"

He tried to nod but the tears kept falling. Neil took this as his cue to lift Billy from his chair. His body was shaking as he stood him up, legs trembling.

"I can't have you holding onto people who are never coming back, so repeat after me, 'She's never coming back and she doesn’t care about me',"

He didn’t say anything. His body was shaking so much that he couldn’t. And the thought of his mum not caring, the only person who felt like did half the time, made everything seem bleak. If she didn’t care then what hope did he have? If she wasn't coming back, was this his life? Awful dinners and tense conversations?

"Say it."

Neil’s face was red from anger. Billy could feel it rising and about to blow. He was really going to get it tonight.

Smack. Billy stumbled back a step. The tears had been wiped from his face. Had he just done that? Had he actually just done that? He didn’t hit him, he shouted and was strict but he didn’t hit him. Had he actually-

"Say it!" He grabbed his arm hard enough that the skin when red, then white.

"She's never coming back and she doesn’t care about me,"

"Again."

"She's never coming back and she doesn’t care about me."

"Good, now go to bed,"

"But I'm hungry!"

"Bed! Now!"

He walked away in shock. He almost couldn't move. The tears didn't come back as he trudged up the stairs. He felt the pictures on the wall were staring at him, not caring but judging.

Once he’d reached his room, he hurried over to the phone on his desk. His mom had given a number to call for emergencies, she’d only called once just to give it to him, she probably didn’t want his dad finding out. He’d tried calling back but got nothing. He was going to give up trying soon, after days without contact and still no answers, but after tonight, he had to give her one more chance. He needed her.

Ring ring, pause, ring ring, pause, ring ring, pause. After waiting again for the phone to pick up, to hear her voice on the end of the line, he got nothing. He couldn’t call again. His dad would get suspicious and if she did pick up he could easily pick up the landline downstairs and listen in. That’s the last thing he needed.

Instead, he was left with the harrowing fact that he’d hit him. He actually hit him. He didn’t hit him.

Well, he guessed that now he did.

----

I had this idea as soon as I saw the prompts for Whumptober. A lot of the prompts this year remind me of stranger things? Maybe it's because I'm in an 80s media mood with my top gun special interest and stranger things has a lot more whump (at least my style of whump) possibility for whumptober.

Poor Billy too. I wanted to show him as a vulnerable kid, one who wanted his dad's approval and was sensitive. I also think maybe deep down he still wanted his approval, but also didn't want to want his approval. Conflicted feelings baby. Thanks for reading! @whumptober-archive

#whumptober 2023 #fic #no. 26 #shaking #alt prompt #child abuse tw #stranger things #pre-canon #neil hargrove #billy hargrove #billy's mom #billy hargrove's mom #pre-stranger things 1 #bear writes #child abuse #hitting #angst #whump

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