#Leah’s whumptober Masterlist

[ohtobeleah]

My Brothers Keeper // Jake Seresin

Summary: Five seconds faster and Jake Seresin wouldn’t be standing in his bedroom telling the love of his life the biggest lie he’d ever told.

Warnings: Relationship breakdown. Jake Seresin x F!reader.

Word Count: 2k

Author Note: Day Four of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Betrayal. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

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“You have to stop taking your grief out on me.” There wasn’t an awful lot more Jake Seresin could have done about it. And the only thing he could think of that could fix the situation he found himself in was to go back in time, fly a little faster, and save your brother and what Jake could only describe as your ‘adoptive’ fathers, lives. 

But he couldn’t bend the laws of physics anymore than he could bend time. So, he stayed standing in your living room—watching as you folded up the remaining bits of laundry you’d been neglecting to put away. 

You hadn’t spoken in three very long, very silent days. The home you shared had become a silent battle ground of unspoken fear, grief and anger. You could cut the tension with a knife it had gotten so bad—but Jake gave you the space you so clearly needed. Until now—

“Leave me alone Jake.” 

During those three days all Jake could think about was how he might lose you because he wasn’t a good enough pilot to be able to save Maverick and Rooster. He wasn’t fast enough, he wasn’t prepared enough—

Hell he wasn’t brave enough. 

“Okay, I cannot, no matter how much you blame me—no matter how much you ask, no matter how much you criticize, ignore my existence or question me, I cannot bring them back baby.” Jake made his way across the space when you didn’t answer him, he missed the way things used to be before that damned mission. He crouched to his knees across from you—piles of washing kept a little distance. But none of that stopped Jake from tilting your chin up so that you had no choice but to look at him as he spoke. Nothing stopped him from cupping your cheeks in his hands just to run his thumbs across your soft and supple cheeks. 

“I’m right here, I’m right in front of you baby—“ You and Jake had been on rocky rounds since he’d called you to inform you that your brother, Bradley Bradshaw and your uncle or, as some would be more comfortable referring to him as your dad, Pete Mitchell had both been killed during a mission. “Please look at me?” Jake continued to guide your gaze to his eyes. He smiled softly when you finally gave him the time of day. “I’m right here, just talk to me.” 

He had to be the one who told you. 

Jake couldn’t leave that task to anyone else—it was the least he could do, considering he had been the one who’d gone after them. 

“I don’t even know who I’m looking at anymore.” There was a sickening feeling that hadn’t left your body since Jake had told you two of the most important people in your life had both died. “I don’t believe you when you say that you, Hangman, did everything you could to try and save them.” 

You never called Jake Hangman, you knew deep down how much the meaning behind his callsign kept him up at night. But here you were, throwing it right back in his face. 

Jake Seresin thought you loved him, understood who he was to the very bone. Jake thought you trusted him, knew his mind, body and soul. He had a ring tucked away in his bedside table—a Diamond worth more than he could afford. But yet here you were:

Just like all the others who ever came before you. 

Jake thought you were different, that you saw him for who he really was. You were Bradley Bradshaw's little sister, the barista who made the world's most perfect oat milk vanilla lattes and just so happened to work at the coffee stand on base while Jake was stationed in Lemoore. Did he know you were Rooster's little sister? Not initially. Did he back down when he’d connected all the dots? No—he still thought you were just the sweetest thing. 

But now you were sitting right in front of him, folding laundry that you’d neglected, calling him a liar after he’d told you all that he knew and all that he did. 

“I don’t believe you when you say you didn’t hold back, that you did everything you could have to get there in time because I know you—“ Jake had dropped his hand a long time ago at this point. But he still sat there right in front of you and took the metaphorical beating you gave his person, his very being. “And I know that deep down, you and Bradley hated each other with such a passion that as soon as the opportunity came up where you could get rid of him? you took it.” 

It was misguided anguish, Jake knew that. But this was getting a little too personal for his ego to handle. 

“Is that what you really think?” Jake asked softly as he watched you get up off the ground with a huff. You’d promised you wouldn’t cry anymore, but you should have learnt by now not to make promises you couldn’t keep. “Do you really think I hated your brother so much that I'd just let him die?” 

It wasn't just a question of morality, it was a question of character. Just who did you really think Jake was? 

“Don’t walk away from me!” Jake hissed as he got up off the living room floor to follow you. Hell three weeks ago he thought he’d follow you anywhere on earth. Now he wasn’t too sure if you’d even let him. “Y/n! Don’t you dare walk away from me.” 

“Leave me alone Jake!” You spat back as you made your way down the hallway towards your bedroom. “Before I say something I’ll regret.” 

“Oh no honey, let's air out all our grievances now!” It was the condescending tone you didn’t appreciate the most as Jake followed you into your shared bedroom. He slammed the door so hard behind him that it nearly came off its hinges. It made you freeze in your place, the loud obnoxious sound of the door slamming shut rattled in your mind as Jake's footsteps grew heavy as he walked closer and closer to you. “Fucking tell me you don’t mean what you said.” He growled with a disdain in his temperament. “TELL ME!” 

You’d never seen your boyfriend so mad before. Usually Jake was pretty content, but it was clear that your suspicions had struck a raw nerve. 

“You killed my brother.” Was all you said as the backs of your legs hit the side of your bed. “And you killed the only man who was ever remotely my dad.” Jake could see it in your eyes—you believed every word you spoke with enough conviction that he even questioned what the truth of the matter was. “You're meant to be the best! But yet you weren’t good enough to save the two most important men in my life!?” 

“I did everything that I could!” Jake was beginning to lose his damn mind as he pulled at his hair and clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might break. “I love you, I really do but you are taking this too far Y/n—I didn’t kill your family! The enemy did, they were the ones who flew a little faster in better jets with better equipment and they were the ones who fired the missile—NOT ME!” 

Jake knew you didn’t believe him, he knew that you’d already left before you had the guts to say it. He could see it written all over your face like a bad breakup song from the nineties. You couldn’t sleep beside the man who you blame with every fiber of your being for the deaths of your father and brother. 

But you just couldn’t pull the trigger. 

“Is this really how it’s gonna be?” Jake asked as he stepped a little closer, his chest was practically pressed against yours as you held your ground. “You blame me, I deny deny deny until my dying breath and we keep going around in circles like this?” The feeling of Jake's palm against your cheek had your tears welling, his thumb brushed against the apple of your cheek and all those stray hairs were now tucked back behind your ear. “I thought you knew me baby, c’mon, look at me yeah? Do you really think that I didn’t do enough?” 

The silence that lingered spoke volumes. Jake knew right then and there that he had to leave, he had to step away. He couldn’t keep doing this—begging you to remember who he was because you were so clouded by your own grief. 

Never once had you asked if he was okay. Never once had you asked how he was, if he was going alright after getting there just five seconds too late. You never asked if he laid awake at night playing that scenario over and over in his mind—never. You never asked because you didn’t care. You didn’t believe he was an innocent man in all of this. 

“You know what?” But Jake Seresin was good at putting up walls to protect his heart. He was good at playing pretend, playing the part in people’s lives that they needed him to be. It was just easier to be The Hangman than it was to be Jake. Standing before the love of his life realizing that he would always and forever be remembered as the man who killed her brother was a role he never thought he’d play: 

But for you he’d do it, and he’d do it well. 

“Fine—I admit it.” Jake stepped back to put some distance between the two of you. He knew he’d never be so close to you again. It broke his heart into a million pieces but if this was who you really needed him to be he’d be that person. “I could have done more, but I chose not to.”

“Jake—“ You’d been thinking about it for days, the possibility, the probability that Jake had more involvement than he was leading you to believe. But hearing him actually say it threw everything you thought you knew out the window, along with your relationship. 

“All your brother ever did was sit on that fucking perch of his and the one time he needed to get off? He wasn’t nearly capable enough to get himself out of a tough situation.” Jake had never hated Bradley, sure they had their tiffs and differences over the years but never did he ever hate the guy. “And Mav? His arrogance finally caught up with him! You should take some fucking comfort in the fact they’re both with your dead daddy now—it’s one big family fucking reunion because I chose to not take the shot when I so clearly had it!” 

It was the biggest betrayal you’d ever experienced. 

“Get out!” 

“What! You’ve been blaming me for everything since before the funerals and now you wanna stand there and pretend you didn’t see it fucking coming?” Jake scoffed as he made his way across the room to collect a few things he’d need before showing up to Coyote's front door with his tail between his legs. 

It was the biggest betrayal Jake had ever experienced. 

“Leave! Get out of my house! Get out of my life before you have a chance to take anything else away from me!” You had never felt such a heartbreak, felt such a loss than when you finally heard Jake admit it. He could have saved them, but he chose not to for his own selfish reasons. 

But Jake was a good man, he had his morals and his own heart to protect. He’d never forgiven himself for not being just a fraction faster—because when he saw that F-14 explode with two of the most important people in your life inside as his thumb grazed the trigger—he knew he’d lost you too.

“Trust me Bradshaw, you’ve got nothing left to fucking lose.”  ***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**~***~

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#ailesswhumptober2023 #Leah’s whumptober Masterlist #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x female!reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman fic

[ohtobeleah]

Poison Ivy // Bob Floyd

Summary: Bobs got the hots for the admirals assistant. Bad. So bad it makes him feral. But what happens when he gets the dosage wrong and messes the whole thing up.

Warnings: Drug Overdose. Spiked drink. Bob Floyd x F!reader. Mentions of date rape drugs. Man slaughter.

Word Count: 1.5k

Author Note: Happy Whumptober everyone! I’m so beyond excited to get to break your hearts for 31 days. So here’s to Day One of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Drugging. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

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“How’d you kill her Lieutenant!” Bob Floyd, with his big eyes and even bigger glasses sat in the police station held up in an interrogation room. He wasn’t talking—not without a lawyer. Sure he did it. He didn’t mean to, but still, he did it. 

***~***~***~***~***

The human body is designed to compensate for loss. It adapts so it no longer needs the thing it can’t have. 

But sometimes the loss is too great and the body can’t compensate on its own. 

“Will you watch this for me?” It was common sense really, especially in this day and age, to not leave your drinks unattended at bars or clubs or restaurants. Your mother had taught you that. “I just need to use the bathroom real quick.” 

“Oh yeah—“ Bob raised his brows as if he was shocked you were trusting him with such a thing. “Yeah sure thing Ivy.” You’d been enjoying a drink or two, or possibly even three after work with a few colleagues. Normally you wouldn’t indulge so frivolously—but the more you worked amongst the Aviators that called North Island home, you grew accustomed to Hangman's incessant pestering with that devilish panty dropping smile and Roosters charming aura that seemingly had you nodding along in agreement to a few fruity beverages after a long day in the Admirals office. “Not a problem.”

“Thanks, I’ll be right back.” And then there was Robert Floyd. The soft smiling, baby blue eye having, kind hearted soul who always had an empty seat available for you to perch yourself up on beside him. He was all encompassing, endearing even. 

The time and energy he’d put into listening to you drone on and on about how your day wasn’t hard to notice. He always had time for you, no matter what. 

As you got up, you leaned in to kiss Bob gently on the apple of his cheek. It was the simplest of gestures that you hoped he perceived as an intention for something more. You wanted Bob Floyd— 

And he wanted you. 

As you walked away Bob's eyes lingered down towards your drink, then back up to scan the expanse of the bar, then again to your drink. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest all the while he fished the small, glass bottle of rohypnol out of his pocket. 

To be fair, Bob had tried to get you to go home with him in the past. He’d tried to give you small hints here and there but you just weren’t getting the hint. And there was just something stopping Bob from outright asking you to follow him out into the carpark so that he could take you home. His tongue always felt tied, so—the next best thing? 

Spike your drink, get you a little giggly and easily influenced all so that Bob could feel what your velvet walls felt like clenching around him. He was no Hangman or Rooster, he didn’t have that confidence or the charming mannerisms. Bob was simply Bob.

And you should have known, it was always the quiet unassuming ones. 

Bob watched your cocktail fizzle as the white substance settled to the bottom of the amber coloured liquid. He stirred the contents with the little black plastic straw and soon enough you’d never even know the beverage had been tampered with—and certainly the last person anyone would ever suspect would be the quiet and somewhat shy weapons systems officer that would bring you coffee in the morning and visit you during lunch. 

He was going to fuck you tonight, wether you liked it or not. Bob knew that much for sure—he was done playing Mr. Nice guy. He was done waiting, tired of always being second to none. Bob wanted you and he needed you, bad. There was no negotiation. He wasn’t about to lose out again. 

“You look a little paranoid there Floyd.” Hangman smirked as he let his hand fall to Bob's shoulder. Clamping down like a vice. “How’s things going with Ivy? You made a move yet?” It was no secret that you and Bob were in the beginning of what seemed to be a blooming romance. 

At the sight of you coming back from the bathroom, Bob shrugged Jake's hand from his shoulder and sat up a little straighter, just a little taller as he sent you an all encompassing smile that ignited your nerve endings. 

If only he knew how you felt about him. 

“If you’d buzz off I’ll let you know in the morning.” Bob hissed over his shoulder and Jake left it at that. He didn’t press or stick around to see the train wreck unfold before his very eyes. He knew Bob didn’t have the guts to ask a lady of your callable to go home with him. Hell, Hangman was quite certain Bob was punching above his weight with you. 

But if Jake had stayed, perhaps if he’d stuck around just five minutes more—you wouldn’t have taken a sip of your drink as you sat back down across from Bob at the small barstool table. Maybe you wouldn’t have gotten lost in the way the corner of his lips curled into only one of his cheeks as he sent you a half faced grin. If only Hangman had hung around, maybe you wouldn’t have noticed the burning taste in your mouth or the way Bob's eyes darkened when you saw the sediment at the bottom of your glass. Oh. Oh no. 

“Bob?” You felt sick to your stomach as He reached across the table to place his hand atop yours. “You didn’t, did you?” 

“I’m not gonna do anything you don’t already want.” Bob cooed, his thumb ran over your knuckles. “Come out to the car with me?” 

“Oh—“ This couldn’t be happening. “No, no—I really don’t think I want to go.” Everything was beginning to spin as you tried to step down from the stool. “Bob?” It came out as a whine for help. Bob was at your side playing worried for his friends as he caught you, your knees felt weak and your feet felt like lead bricks. What was happening? Why, why would Bob do this to you? “I don’t feel good.” 

“It’s alright, I got you.” Bob cooed as he helped you stand—he was quick to wrap your arm up and around his shoulder as your head lulled. Your neck felt weak, atrophied to the point where the muscles just simply couldn’t support the weight of your head any longer. Shit—this stuff worked quickly. “We’re gonna head out guys, Ivy’s not feeling all that great.” Bob explained without hesitation, the sad part was no one ever suspected a thing. “We’ll see you all Monday.” 

“Atta boy Floyd!” Jake teased as he clapped Bob out of the Hard Deck, completely none the wiser as to what Bob had done. But it was always the quiet unassuming ones. It was a goddamn cautionary tale at this point. 

“Come on baby, in we get hey.” Bob cooed as you felt you burning up, he pressed the back of his hand to your forehead as he tried to get your seatbelt done up. Safety first, as always. “You’re gonna be so good for me aren’t you? I’m gonna give you everything you need.” It was his lips against yours that really took your breath away as his digit’s slipped around your neck. You didn’t kiss back. You couldn’t do anything but whimper into him—which told Bob you wanted him. But in fact it couldn’t have been further from the truth. “Shit I dunno if I can wait till we’re home now that you’re making those pretty little sounds for me.” Bob could feel just how strained against his jeans he’d truly become. “Hold on—let me jump in the driver's side.” 

You’re always so hopeful at the beginning of things. It seems like there’s only a world to be gained, not loss. And as you watched Bob open the driver's side door, everything was beginning to darken—you couldn’t hold your eyelids open. Couldn’t see, hear or think. All you knew was that this wasn’t right, it wasn’t what you wanted, that this wasn’t the Bob Floyd you thought you were falling in love with. 

“Bob—help.” You couldn’t breathe. Your throat was so tight, you couldn’t get anything in. Couldn’t fill your lungs. “Please—help me.” People usually say that the inability to accept loss is a form of insanity. It’s probably true. Because as you took your last breath, all you saw was Robert Floyd. 

Unbuckling his belt like the devil himself had whispered over his shoulder and had dared him to do it. 

***~***~***~***~***

“I didn’t kill her.” Bob lied through those puppy dog eyes. “Someone must have spiked her drink! But it sure as hell wasn’t me.” 

***~***~***~***~***

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[ohtobeleah]

Dark Red // Jake Seresin

Summary: Jake Seresin is usually pretty cool, carm and cock sure of himself. But when his wife has an accident? He hits the deck pretty hard.

Warnings: Character death. Mentions of car accidents. Fainting. Jake Seresin x F!reader.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author Note: Day Eleven of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: ‘Fainting.’ Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

It was enough to shake you that was for sure. The sheer force of the car behind you that had run right up the back of you and sent your bonnet into the back of the car in front of you, practically sandwiching you in, was enough to rattle you. 

It was enough to have the airbag deploying in your face, breaking your nose that would surely leave two very black and swollen eyes from the sinus pressure. It was enough to shatter the glass of your front and back windscreens like they were paper thin. The forces had crumbled the aluminum of your 1999 Ford Festiva with ease. Like a paper bag being trot on. The same car Jake was adamant that you finally upgrade from. The same care that you were so attached to. 

Guess there wouldn’t be any love lost when Jake found out that your beloved Festiva was totally gone. She was to put it simply—unsalvageable. But at least you were able to walk away relatively unscathed. 

“Would you like us to give your emergency contact a call?” Jake Seresin had been your best friend for just over ten years. The two of you had only just recently gotten married after dating for eight of those. There had never really been any real rush to put pen to paper and make all the legal arrangements and challenges. You were pretty content in the role you played in Jake's life. But when his career started to see him in more life threatening situations, he started to wonder what exactly he’d be leaving you behind with. It made sense on paper to get married and it made even more sense to share the Seresin name with the six month old fetus kicking it in utero. Little Baby Seresin. 

“My husband’s at work—“ You sighed to the woman checking on your little boy's heart, strong and stable. No signs of distress from his end which was the best possible outcome. “You can probably just clean me up and send me on my way.” 

“Hmm—“ Although there were no obvious signs, Linda Masters thought it would be in your best interests to stay overnight for observations. She was waiting to hear back from your OB. “I’d rather keep you in overnight, just to make sure baby doesn’t decide to change his mind.” 

“Okay, but when you get someone to call, just make sure you let him know that we’re fine.” You were really insistent on that, you knew how Jake could get when it came to you. For someone who was usually so cool, calm and cock sure of himself, he could get a little flustered to say the very least whenever something involved you. “He doesn’t need to leave work, but he can definitely swing by with an overnight bag afterwards.” 

“Oh boy.” You knew that voice from a mile away. “Seresins ganna go into cardiac arrest when he finds out that little miss is sitting in my Emergency Room.” Doctor Benjamin Ocka or more affectionately known by the Daggers as, Doc Ock, cooed as he came up to your bedside. “I was called for a consult?” He addressed the technician who was just packing away her ultrasound machine. 

“Y/n Seresin, six months pregnant, sustained a broken nose and possibly sinus damage from her airbag. There doesn’t seem to be any other major injuries, just a couple of bumps and bruises.” 

Ben chuckled as he assessed your nose, ears, eyes and mouth. Your bloodied nose was huge, swollen as swollen could be. He knew immediately that you were gonna be on bed rest for a few days. Especially when it came to the part in the healing process where your sinuses would swell so much that you wouldn’t be able to see. 

“I’ll call Hangman shall I?” He sighed as he placed his little light into the top pocket of his doctor’s jacket and sat beside you. “Bubs okay?” 

“Perfectly fine, we’re staying for a sleepover just to be sure.” 

“I’m probably gonna need to readjust your nose.” He frowned softly as he kept assessing your face. “Little bit of surgery but we can discuss that once the swelling goes away—if you can breathe and can deal with a crooked nose for a small period of time I might like to hold off on non essential plastic surgery till after Baby Seresins here.” 

Ben was Payback's husband. He was as charming and as a part of your little group as any of the spouses and all Roosters girlfriends were. He cared about the people who took care of his husband in the sky and made sure he got to come home every night. 

“Sounds good, but yes—please, call Jake and let him know we’re fine.” You pleaded. “Lead with they're totally fine, if anything this is just a courtesy call from your wife to say that it’s take out for dinner.” 

“He’s gonna flip out Y/n.” That was your moment of defeat. You sighed into the pillow of your emergency room bed and let your head lull to the side as you placed two very protective hands across your belly. 

“I know.” You grumbled. “I know he is and he’s gonna be so happy about that damn Festiva too.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***

Jake only wore a Garmin watch when he was on the ground because it was connected to his phone. He only wore a Garmin watch so that if someone called him during the day, all he had to do was look at his wrist and decide if the call was worth taking on the clock. 

Jake only wore a Garmin watch for moments like these, where he sat in the middle of a debriefing on this afternoon's drills and saw Payback's husband's affectionate caller ID, ‘Benny Boy’ flash up on the screen. 

“I gotta go.” Jake knew deep down Ben wouldn’t call like this if it wasn’t an emergency. “I’ll be right back.” Jake stood so fast that the feet of his chair made a high pitched squeak against the smooth concrete floor. All eyes were on him, colleagues and instructors alike as he rushed out of the hangar and fished his phone, which had been on silent, out of his pocket. 

His heart nearly stopped inside his chest when his body and mind immediately knew what to ask as his thumb swiped over the screen of his phone before he held it up to his ear. Shaking, Jake knew that it had to be about you—why else would Ben be calling in the middle of the day when they were both on shift? 

“What happened? Is she okay?” It took all the breath out of Jake's lungs when he spoke. He never wanted to get this call. If anyone ever asked him about his biggest fear in life, he wouldn’t say dying in a dog fight or crashing into the pacific. No. He’d say losing the love of his life. “Ben?”

“Hey man.” Ben tried to be as calm as he could be because really, you were fine. There was no cause for concern, just a broken nose. “Y/n had an accident, not her fault, distracted driver situation.” Jake felt like his entire world was crumbling around him as he took panic filled strides towards the locker room. “She’s fine, her nose is busted pretty good but other than that her and the baby are—“ There's a very loud, very audible thud on the other end of the line as Ben checks your lab reports at the nurses station. “Hello?” He questioned with concern laced in his tone. “Hangman? You there?” Ben knows he’s not. “Fuck—“ 

Meanwhile, on the floor of the locker room, laid Jake Seresin. Completely out cold and unresponsive as his teammates sat in their debriefing wondering what the hell had gotten into the newlywed man they all loved to hate and hated to love. 

Jake had smacked his head on the corner of the long metal seat that ran down the middle of the locker hall. He was face down, bleeding pretty bad and had his cheek squished so hard into the grate on the floor it was gonna leave a mark when he peeled himself up. Like those parks you get when you have a killer nap. 

The crimson red that pooled on the tiles was thick and spread thin into the grooves of the tiles. It crept its way across the locker room floor like vines. Jake was under, but even in his unconscious state you were the only thing on his mind. You smile, your infectious laugh, the way you looked carrying his son, so swollen and perfect. His wife. The love of his life. 

“Can someone go get Seresin?” Mav sighed as he held the bridge of his nose behind the podium. “Rooster, go drag him back here before I send him up there blind.” Everyone knew it was an empty threat, but regardless, Bradley stood to his feet with an exaggerated sigh and headed down the hall in the direction of where he thought his wingman had gone. 

Bradley wasn’t expecting to walk into the locker room and see what he saw. He was just trying to make sure Jake didn’t get torn to shreds for ditching during the debriefing. But to his shock horror—as he rounded the corner into the locker room, his heart jumped out of his chest at the sight of his wingman lying face down on the grime covered tiles. There was probably dirt caked into the grouting from when his dad roamed these halls. 

“Holy crap—“ It was the first thing out of Bradleys mouth as he made his way over in a hurry. “Hangman?” The way Bradley said his wingman’s callsign was laced in pure panic. “Jake man, you okay?” Rooster shook Jake's shoulder gently at first—but when the six foot something blonde didn’t stir, he shook him a little harder. “Hangman! Wake up man, c’mon open your eyes.” 

“Mmhph—“ It wasn’t a word, but a sound, and Bradley was happy with that as he rolled Jake over onto his side to start with. 

“Jake you’re bleeding.” It was everywhere. Bradley looked around frantically to try and find what may have been the cause of such a head wound. But when his eyes locked onto the corner of the cold, old metal bench—he knew immediately. “Don’t move alright.” 

“Y/n—“ Jake grumbled as he tried to sit up. “My wife.” It was pure need and adrenaline that coursed through Jake Seresins veins the second he’d come to. “I need to get to Y/n—“ 

“Woah, take it easy Hangman.” Bradley tried to steady Jake as he tried to stand. “You hit your head pretty hard on the bench, we should probably get you to medical?” 

“Hospital—“ Was all Jake groaned as he stood, Rooster watched in horror as the blood gushed from Jake’s gash. It looked deep and angry, like he’d been cut almost through his skull. “I need to get to the hospital.” Bradley can’t keep up to save his soul. “Y/n—“ As Jake stands to his very unsteady feet, he mumbled your name over and over as his fingertips reach up to touch the crimson red dripping down his face. “Oh fuck my head.” 

“I’ll take you to the hospital if you can remember what happened?” It’s the only way Rooster can think of putting two and two together. Why did Jake need to get to the hospital to see you? And why was he passed out of the floor of the locker room? “Jake? Why’s Y/n at the hospital?” It’s a question laced in as much concern as it is dread. You’re not due yet, what if something happened to the baby and that’s what caused Jake to break? “Is she alright? Is baby Seresin alright?” 

The silence that lingered as Jake stumbled his way over towards the door had Rooster's heart caught up in his throat. He knew how much Jake loved you and his unborn child. He knew that the man with the bloodied forehead and the sure fire concussion would move mountains and part seas just to kiss a paper cut on your fingertip. So when Jake stopped in his tracks, swayed side to side as if he was going down again, Bradley knew something had happened that completely rocked Jake Seresins world. 

“They were in an accident—“ 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

It was the way Jake came racing into the emergency room that worried you the most. He slammed right in for the doorframe like he either didn’t see it or like he’d been running a million miles and hour to get to you. 

You hadn’t yet been moved from the emergency short stay area into one of the wards, which you were thankful for the second Ben spotted Jake stumbling towards you with a head laceration. 

“Oh my god, what the hell happened?” You asked Rooster as he rushed in after Jake. He knew he was about to cop an earful. “Bradshaw, why is my husband bleeding?” You barely got to ask before Jake was at your side. 

“He fainted when he got the call you were in hospital.” Rooster explained softly as he pulled up a chair for Jake to sit beside you in . “Here you, sit down man before the room starts spinning.” Bradley ushered Jake to sit as he reached out for your hands. “You and bubs alright? What happened?” 

“We’re fine.” You tried to explain. “Nose is pretty sore but we’re fine.” 

“Baby I swear I can’t ever lose you.” Jake began as he sat as close to your bedside as he could. It was the sweetest thing, although you suspected it was all coming from the concussion you knew your husband definitely had. “You or bubs.” Jake placed a gentle hand across your stomach. “My heart nearly burst out of my chest when I got the call.” 

“I should probably take a look at that—“ Ben interrupted as he sent you a shy, all knowing smile. “Hit the hard deck, did you Seresin?” Ben chuckled to himself as he gave Jake's head the once over. “I specifically remember telling you that your wife was fine.” 

“‘M’panicked, can’t lose her boss.” Jake replied softly as his eyes never left you, it pained him to see you like this. Bloodied and bruised, but alive. “I think I hit my head though.” 

“He smacked it pretty hard on the corner of the metal bench in the locker room.” Bradkey added as Ben started to clean out the head wound at your bedside, he knew there was no point asking Jake to move when the answer was going to be a hard no. 

“I’ll order a tetanus shot because that thing is grotesque and get some antibiotics sorted.” Ben stated as he worked, Jake however—he never took his eyes off you. 

“Did you really pass out when you were told I was in an accident?” 

“Can’t lose you.” Was all your husband mumbled against your hand as he kissed your palm. “Can’t lose you, won’t lose you or baby Seresin.” 

“We aren’t going anywhere, love.” You sweetly replied as you reached out to caress Jake's chin. “I promise.” 

“My head really hurts.” He whispers softly as you chuckled to yourself. “Gotta work on my landing huh?” 

“Yeah bubba.” You sighed. “I need you around for the long hall.” As you gently stroked your husband’s chin you saw his eyes begin to roll as he swayed to the left. Jake's entire body stiffened as he lost all sense of direction, his surroundings were gone in the blink of an eye as he began to seize uncontrollably. 

“Woah! Hey! HEY I NEED SOME HELP OVER HERE!” Ben shouted as you watched on in helpless horror as he went with Jake to the ground. Placing him in the recovery position. “LETS GET HIM BACK PEOPLE!” 

“Rooster, what's happening?” You sobbed behind your hands as tears poured down your face. “Jake?” It was the last thing you remembered before everything went cold and dark. The last thing you remembered seeing when you woke not a few moments later, was your husband and father of your child—hemorrhaging before you. 

All because he bumped his head. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #Jake Seresin whump #jake seresin x female!reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman fic #tw: whump #tw: death

[ohtobeleah]

Sixth Sense // Mickey Garcia

Summary: A freak accident occurs at the Hard Deck and Fanboy is faced with the challenge of being left to care for you, his not so official girlfriend.

Warnings: Mickey Garcia x F!reader. Hurt/Comfort. Gas explosion resulting in hearing and vision loss.

Word Count: 1.7k

Author Note: Day Three of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Sensory Deprivation. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Holy shit, what the hell was that?” It all happened so fast, so fast in fact that the explosion that ricocheted through the Hard Deck didn’t register a sound until a few seconds after the fact. 

Patrons laid strewn across the bar, ducking for cover under tables and bars. Glass from the windows had sliced unsuspecting patrons as it blew apart from the force of the blast. Food and beverages littered the floor, thrown in the panic of the moment as all inside ducked. 

“Everybody okay?” Jake Seresin stayed shielding Natasha Trace with his entire body. “Is anyone hurt?” His arms pinned her down against the hardwood floor at either side of her head. Seconds ago—they’d been arguing over a long standing disagreement over who could tie more Cherry stems with just their tongue in three minutes. Now, Phoenix had never been this close to a man she could hardly stand. 

“Yeah—we’re good!” Rooster replied as he looked around, he’d been knocked on his ass by the bast. Coyote was right beside him, as was Payback. The three of them had been indulging in a game of darts to see who could knock Hangman down a peg or two on the leaderboard. “Bob? Fanboy? You guys okay?” 

“I think we’re alright?” Bob groaned as he pushed himself up off the ground—peanuts were crushed all over the ground around him. Mickey sat back on his knees scanning the Hard Deck. He couldn’t see you. There was a small cut on the side of Mickey's face but other than an artificial flesh wound, he was relatively unscathed from the unsuspecting blast that had pummeled through the Hard Deck. 

“Anyone seen Y/n?” Fanboys eyes continued to scour the entire expanse of the Hard Deck as he rose to his feet and dusted himself off. “Yo, guys—anyone see Miss Barkeep?” 

“She was heading out back to help the gas guy change out the—“ Bob didn’t even need to finish his sentence before he’d connected the dots. “Oh god, Y/n.”

A gas explosion. 

Mickey took a few seconds to register where his best friend's mind had gone, but then he realised. In those few seconds where Fanboy couldn’t breathe he knew he couldn’t live without you before he had a chance to really have you. 

Sure, the two of you were friendly. Probably more than most friends would be. Sure, you sometimes spent the night in Mickey's bed after he’d stay back and help you shut the Hard Deck up. Sure, he spent lazy Sunday mornings with you in the kitchen making breakfast and drinking coffee more often than not. And sure, the two of you enjoyed each other’s company, blatantly flirted beyond belief and made sure to always text each other when you got home, finished work, and stole secret kisses here and there when it was just the two of you. But. You weren’t official. 

And that may have been Mickey Garcia's biggest mistake. 

“Y/n!?” There you were. “Oh my god!” Lying unconscious on the ground a few meters away from where the gas bottles were kept behind the Hard Deck. Penny kept a tight ship—they were locked behind a wire cage that made sure patrons couldn’t fuck around. Something must have gone wrong during the change over, because the gas man wasn’t too far away from you. 

“Hey—hey!?” Mickey was by your side in an instant, the second his eyes caught your body lying there—thrown away and discarded like you weren’t the most important person to him, he was by your side. “Amor? Can you hear me?” 

Rooster had already called for paramedics to attend the scene while Hangman and Phoenix had begun to do whatever they could with their advanced first aid training—using the Hard Decks first aid kit to fix small cuts and abrasions on patrons from lying shards of glass. 

“Y/n?” You had a pulse, Mickey knew that much. But you weren’t waking up. “Please—come on Amor, you gotta wake up for me.” 

“This guys dead—“ Payback calls out. Mickey's mind fills with worst case scenarios the longer you were down for. “He’s got no pulse and the back of his head’s cracked.” He’s an ex paramedic, he knows. “I'm gonna start chest compressions, see if I can bring him back, how’s the kid?” 

You weren’t just shy of Fanboys age, he was the youngest in the group after all. Top of his class, intellectually gifted enough to graduate highschool three years earlier than most ever would. But to Paybacks forty one? You were still a child, in his mind anyway. 

“She’s breathing.” Is all he says before your stirrings. “Hold on! I think she’s waking up!” There’s nothing but a ringing in your ear. A sharp high pitched buzzing that’s incessant and ear piercing. You groan at the sound as you try to blink away the clouded vision that’s plaguing your eyes. But nothing can get rid of the thick fog like blur. “Y/n—it’s me, you’re okay, I’ve got you—“  But you can’t make out who it is. You can’t hear anything but that annoying ringing that won’t go away. Your head hurts, holy shit what the hell happened? 

“I—“ You stutter out. “I can’t see.” It sends Mickey's heart racing inside his chest, even more so than it already was. “I—I can’t see—“ You can't even hear yourself talking so you just assume you’re talking far too quiet. But in reality you're screaming, screaming so loud you’re straining your neck. “I CAN'T HEAR!” 

“Hey—I’ve got you.” Mickey doesn’t know what else to do besides try and calm you while medics make their way around the Hard Deck. “I love you, yeah?” Payback hears Mickey say it before you ever do and his heart breaks. You don’t deserve this. Neither does Fanboy. “You’re gonna be alright Amor, I’m right here.” 

But all you do is cry. You can’t hear a single thing being spoken or see a single thing in front of you. All there is before you are shadows of light and darkness. Mickey's hands squeeze yours and you feel it. His signet ring—the one his Abuela brought him many moons ago. But you know in the darkness and uncertainty that it’s Mickey at your side. 

“If she’s lost senses, Mick, it's gonna be a head trauma of some sort.” Payback keeps going with his chest compressions. “Is there any sign of blood?” You squeeze Mickey's hand a little harder as he goes to pull away to check. You squeeze so hard that he can’t let go, you’re far too afraid of being left alone in the dark. “Fanboy?”

“I—I dunno, probably! She probably hit her head on the ground!” Mickey manages to wiggle free just one of his hands so he can push your hair out of your face. “Shhh—I’m right here.” He tries to soothe you once again, but your cries are just too heartbreaking. “Amor, I am right here with you—I’ve got you.” 

“Please don’t let me die here alone.” Was all you mumbled out. You didn’t know what Mickey was saying or if he was saying anything at all. The ringing was all too deafening. But when you begged him to stay, to not leave your side. Mickey's heart shattered into a million different pieces. “Please don’t leave me.” 

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here.” He traced your face with his fingers, just letting you know he was there with you. Your grip on his hand began to falter as you slipped into unconsciousness again, just trying to find some shelter from the ringing. “I’m right here with you.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Without the surgery your daughter might regain her vision but it’s only a slim chance Mrs Y/l/n—“ Doctor Perry spoke to the woman on the other end of your phone. Mickey had called her on your behalf from the other side of the country, she was already packing her things for the flight she’d booked to be by your side. “I’d say it’s barely twenty percent.” 

“What about with the surgery?” Mickey asked as his eyes looked over you. You looked too peaceful to be in this situation. You knew he was there just by his touch alone. He made sure you knew it was him by his ring as he ran his thumb across your palm. “What’s the odds of her getting her vision back with the surgery?” 

“Almost one hundred percent—if the surgery were to go well. If it doesn’t then she runs the risk of being permanently incapacitated for the rest of her life.” Doctor Perry was a little too blunt for Mickey's liking, but he appreciated the direct route. “She’ll regain her hearing, hopefully, her ear drums were significantly damaged in the blast but they should recover.” 

“Do the surgery.” Your mother barked on the other side of the phone. “My daughter can’t be deaf and blind—what type of future would she have then? What kind of quality of life would she have?” Mickey couldn’t take his eyes off you as you slept. It was better this way, to keep you sedated. That way you couldn’t panic. But he thought about it while the doctor droned on to your mother about the surgery, that no matter the outcome you’d have a life with him. He’d take care of you—learn how to adapt, help you with anything you ever needed. Do anything you ever needed him to do. 

A freak accident that took away two of your six senses shouldn’t be the reason your life ends. You were still alive and oh how Mickey Garcia was grateful to whatever God was on duty that day. 

“Mrs Y/ln?” Mickey interrupted as he turned the phone back his way. Your mother silenced herself mid sentence to listen to what Mickey had to say. “I know we haven’t formally met before but I just want you to know that I’ve been head over heels in love with your daughter since she served me for the first time.” He explained all the while his eyes never left your perfect face. A face he really wouldn’t mind waking up to every day. “And I know there’s a hell of a lot of uncertainty about what may come, but I just want you to know that her quality of life doesn’t diminish if her sight can’t be restored or her hearing doesn’t improve.” Mickey could feel the tears streaming down his cheeks as he squeezed your hand, and as much as he wished none of this ever happened, he knew he couldn’t leave you know. Not ever. 

“I’ve got her ma’am—“ 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

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[ohtobeleah]

Battle Scars // Bob Floyd

-> An Official Flight Deck Blurb

Summary: Robert Floyd doesn’t take his shirt off at the beach. But when the shirt stays on during sex? You start to wonder what he’s hiding.

Warnings: Mentions of parental Abuse. Mentions of Child Neglect. Foster Care Systems. Mentions of family trauma. Bob Floyd x Female!reader.

Word Count: 2.1k

Author Note: Day Nine of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: ‘Scar reveal’ Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

People have secrets they keep close to their chest. Some are small enough to not cause a ripple effect onto others, and some are big enough to destroy lives, crush dreams, alter realities. 

Bob Floyd wore his secrets across his chest. Scars that made his torso look like the Rocky Mountains. Littered with small to medium size scars that healed wrong, healed over, or healed with anger. 

They weren’t pretty. If anything he wore a roadmap of abuse on his body that was hard to face in the mirror every morning. He never wanted to subject anyone to the sight of his scars, some red and raised, others faded but turned a deep purple in the cold. 

“Mornin’ gorgeous—“ Bob's morning voice was something you’d never get tired of hearing. Those lazy Sunday mornings where you’d wake up to find the Naval Aviator already awake and reading whatever book he brought with him in his overnight bag were starting to become your favourite thing. “How’d you sleep mama?” 

“Like a log.” You yawned, creeping closer and closer to where Bob sat on the opposite side of your bed. His T-shirt clad back pressed up against the headboard while his legs stayed covered by the sheets and covers of your warm, inviting bed. “I thought I had an early body clock.” Being a single mum and small business owner left little to no time for sleep-ins, which usually meant you were up before the sun got a chance to kiss the horizon good morning. “But here you are, Mr Military Man with your internalised alarm system.” 

Bob couldn’t help but to chuckle as he closed his book and placed it on the bedside table you cleared just for him. Whatever this was between you and Robert Floyd you really liked it. He was the first man you’d ever paid attention to since your fiancé died. Bob was like a breath of fresh air and so was North Island. No one knew you, no one judged you, no one cared about the demons that haunted you. 

“Force of habit I guess.” He shrugged before he sunk lower and lower, meeting your eyeline once again as you both settled in under the warmth of the covers. “How long do you think we have before Oliver wakes up?” 

“Hmmm—“ You tried to hide your eagerness through a hum that kept your lips pressed together in a fine line. “He knows Sundays are bacon and egg roll mornings.” You began as your arms wrapped around Bob's shoulders. 

His lips were hot against the supple skin of the juncture of your neck, in response your body ignited, sending waves of energy through your body that only Bob could create. He was just different. 

“So like, five? Ten minutes maybe?” Bob looked up from where he’d been leaving small

but affectionate kisses against your collarbone and met you with a lust filled gaze. He was falling head over heels in love with you. “Because I only need like two—“ 

“Oh well in that case we have time for two rounds.” You teased before rolling yourself up and over to straddle Bob's waist. He let you easily. If he wanted to, he could have fought back. The thing with Robert Floyd was that he had a sleeper build. He wasn’t as buff as some of the other Naval Aviators that frequently stopped by the Flight Deck for their morning or mid afternoon caffeine hit. With the amount of sugar and caramel syrup you dosed Hangman with on a regular basis you weren’t entirely sure how he managed to maintain his muscle density. 

But for as much as Bob was a gentle soul, he was strong and fast. He enjoyed a long run every now and again. But for all intents and purposes—he let you be on top. He liked the view. After all, he was just a simple man. Boobs were pretty cool. Especially your boobs.

“Can I ask you a question?” You cooed all the while Bob's hands trailed up your hips. You wore nothing but one of those silk nightgowns that made you look like an angel. The bed hair was cute, Bob liked you first thing in the morning. It was a side of you only he got to see. The side before the makeup, before being put together– he liked it. The authenticity. For what it was worth, Bob just really liked you. 

“Depends what the question is?” Bob replied as his hands squeezed at your hips, rolling you gently back and forth over his boxer brief clad length. “I’m kidding, ask away.” 

He had been expecting the question sooner rather than later. And with how things were going between the two of you Bob knew he would have to come clean. He was just afraid of what you might say. What you might think, and if his scars would be a deal breaker. They were, after all, a part of him that he couldn’t get rid of. 

But even expecting the question to come didn’t make it any less hard to hear. 

“How come you never take your shirt off?” You wanted to approach the question as politely as possible. “You don’t have to tell me, if you aren’t comfortable, I just—I’ve just noticed.” You saw the hesitation in Bob's baby blue eyes as he searched your face for any kind or fear. “Again, you don’t have to tell me.” You reminded the man lying beneath you as his hands stilled on your hips. “But I want you to know that if you’re hiding some sort of third nipple under there—I’m all for it.” You tried to make the conversation a little more lighthearted, Bob could appreciate that. He smiled softly at you while his hands needed at your hips like dough. 

Bob didn’t say much after that, he simply laid beneath you stroking his hands up and down your exposed thighs as his mind ran rampant with memories. He hated his scars, but most of all he hated the people who gave them to him. 

“You’re a waste of space!” The memories were all too prominent even after all these years. “I wish I never gave birth to you!” His mothers words were as cruel as she was violent and unpredictable. 

“You’re the abortion I wish I fucking had.” The abuse Bob endured went with him everywhere, even well into his adult life. He learned not to complain, to cause a scene. “Stop crying for fucks sake kid.” He learned not to show emotion when it wasn’t asked or needed. 

“You did this to yourself, if you had stayed out of the way, none of this would be happening.” But most importantly he blamed himself, for hiding his scars that clearly showed how strong he really was. 

Bob sat up to meet your eyeline. For a man haunted by so many scars he certainly had the softest of eyes. He gently tucked your hair behind your ear and placed a fleeting kiss against your forehead, all before he reached up and over to take his shirt off over his head. 

What you saw rendered you speechless for a few moments as you took in the terrain that was your, well, you wanted to say boyfriend but Bob wasn’t even officially that, torso—littered with scars he surely would have called ugly on the best of days. 

“It’s a lot.” Bob whispered just barely above an audible level as he chucked his shirt off to the side. “But they’re not going away, ever.” It was almost as if Bob had struggled with that notion himself. He wished he could have them removed—expunge from his record. The tales of parental abuse he suffered before collecting more in the foster care system. 

“Oh Bob—“ You tentatively reach out to glide your fingers over one of the many scars that were angry, red and what seemed to be risen. “You don’t have to hide these from me, ever.” Bob's heart was racing a million miles inside his chest, no one had ever touched him the way you were now. With so much love, with kindness, with understanding. “What happened here?” Your fingers gently glided across the scar down near the waistband of Bob's boxers. Right above his hip bone. 

“One of the kids in one of the foster homes I was in.” Bob began, you could tell he was uncomfortable talking about it, but you didn’t stop him. You knew if anything he would stop if he didn’t want to talk about it. “I think his name was Ryan, had an old bow with those barbed edges on it.” You knew where the story was going. “It got wedged in there deep when we were playing around, but our foster parents didn’t have insurance, so they weren’t gonna take me to get it removed—so they ripped it out and poured bourbon over it.” Your heart sank into your stomach. “I was nine.” 

“That must have hurt a lot.” You replied gently as Bob laid back down in your bed with his hands resting behind his head. His roadmap of scars on full display. “What happened here?” You moved your hand to the longer scar across his left peck. It seemed less angry, more healed, but the story attached was just as heartbreaking. 

“When I was eighteen I went back to see my parents.” Bob's eyes were tearing up. He hadn’t ever spoken about this to anyone. Not even the people he trusted with his life. You were the only one. “It was a mistake, I shouldn’t have, but I needed some closure.” Your fingers gently ran the expanse of the scar that had never been touched but another person. Bob wanted to stop you out of fear you’d leave—but he willed you to continue because it felt comforting to be touched with such warmth. “My dad ran at me with a knife the second he saw me—I remember he was rambling on about how I broke my mum's heart when I went with CPS. I’m lucky it was only a graze, he still got me good enough to leave a scar though.” 

“Bob, honey, I don’t even know what to say.” You were a mother yourself. You couldn’t ever imagine doing anything of the sort to your son. Bob reached up to guide your hand across his torso to his wrist—you’d seen those small circle cluster scars time and time again but never bothered to ask what they were from. 

“These are from where my mum and my foster mum would put their cigarettes out on me.” Again, it made your heart sink, but Bob never faulted as he guided your hand around his body, back up to his stomach just above his belly button. Ridged abs peaked through the softness of his skin. “This one is from when I had to have surgery after I got an infection. Doctor said I could have died if my friend and I didn’t walk ourselves to the emergency room.” 

Bob wanted you to touch every last scar that littered his body, he wanted your gentle touch to heal his old wounds. So you let him guide you as your straddled his waist and looked down at the roadmap of torture. 

“These smaller ones are from when my dad swung the whipper snipper at me, I was in his way, I shouldn’t have been there, I remember they wouldn’t stop bleeding and ruined a bunch of my shirts.” 

“None of these are your fault.” All his life, until he joined the Navy and ran as far away as he could, Bob had been told every scar he collected was his fault. The abuse he suffered as a child, from his parents and in foster homes, was his fault. “Someone who loves you doesn’t do this to you.” You reminded the man who laid beneath you. He could hardly breathe with how hard his heart was hammering in his chest as your hands trailed over the expanse of his torso. “Bob I don’t know your history, but from what I can gather about you in the present you are all but the problem.” You were the first person to ever tell him he didn’t deserve the scars he wore, the scars he hid. 

“You’re a really good person, you know that right?” Flashes of your own war blinded your vision for a moment. The lies and haunting rumours that had you running as far away as possible could came flooding back to you in a blur as Bob sat up to kiss your lips softly, tenderly, and all so lovingly. “You don’t know how much you mean to me baby.” The term of endearment sent a shiver down your spine you weren’t expecting. But you welcomed it nevertheless. Bob was a dream, your new beginning. 

“I reckon you’ve got about three minutes to show me.” You teased, deciding now was not the time to bring up your dead fiancé. “With the shirt off—“

***~***~***~***~***~***~

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[ohtobeleah]

California Fornication //

Four— ‘Sun & Moon’

Summary: Jakes got a secret he’s keeping close to his chest almost as close as he’s keeping you. Bradley comes face to face with a demand he can’t comprehend, but he doesn’t have a choice.

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Mental Manipulation. Blackmail. Forced relationship. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader.

Word Count: 3.6k

Author Note: Day Twenty Three of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Blackmail & Misunderstanding. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | California Fornication Masterlist

They say love knows no bounds, but Jake Seresin had very much seen those bounds with his very eyes. Love definitely has bound, he’s seen exactly where it ends. For him it began when what he thought was the love of his life kissed him in the corridor of the Miramar base hospital and ended when that same woman's husband caught him red handed with her underneath him. 

But love didn't truly end there for Jake, but he knew it ended for Bradley Bradshaw. There was no amount of ‘Faking it till you make it’ Rooster could do in order to convince Jake that he had forgiven Katie, his wife, for willingly entering into a love affair with his best friend. He was out well before he ever met you. So the whole “I love my wife” stick he was running with didn’t make a lick of sense. 

But regardless, it worked in Jake's favour, because you were here with him in the morning glow of the amber sun that crept across his hotel bedroom, looking all kinds of beautiful that Jake swore was otherworldly. Angelic if you will. 

“Hi–” You smiled up at him as you laid your forearms across his exposed chest. Jake lazily smiled back at you as he traced unidentifiable objects across your spine, leaving small goosebumps in his fingertips wake. 

“Hi yourself–” He replied as he watched you bat your eyelids, coaxing him for more. “Come here often?” 

“Can't say I sleep with strangers all that often, no.” Jake was without sounding too overly pornagraphic, a really good fuck. He made you laugh all the while his cum coated your velvet walls over and over again. Those orgasms were powerful and took you a moment to recover from each and every time, with every one that followed just as good as the last. Jake was a giver but never turned down the offer either, so when you sank your lips around him for the first time the noises he made made you wish you could have recorded it for a later date. “And I don't plan on making it a habit either.” 

But that's all you wanted it to be, sex. Pure unadulterated lustful sex that made you forget about Bradley and his wife and the heartbreak of not being enough. Not being the one he chose. Not being the one he loved. 

“Well, in that case.” Jake's hand trailed down your spine slowly but with intent to please. “Do you have time before you go cold turkey?” As much as your core approved of the way Jake's hand squeezed at your ass cheek under the bedsheets you were both tangled in, you ultimately decided that you had to pump the brakes for your own protection. Jake was a breath of fresh air, but you weren't stupid enough to let him fall for you.” 

“Don't–” You warned as you rolled off Jake and laid beside him with a huff. 

“What?” Jake pressed as he followed you, it was now his turn to be the one on top.

“Get any ideas.” You explained with a raised eyebrow. “Don't get any ideas” There was a warning tone in your voice, a persistent threat of looming denial that Jake was fun and exciting. “There are no ideas here, got it?” But you knew what became of curious minds, the last guy you took a liking to ended up married. 

“I haven't got any idea, okay.” Oh he had ideas alright, dirty ideas. Dirty ideas where you were crying his name and begging for more. Ideas where Bradshaw would be all but forgotten. “I'm just making small talk.” Jake teased as he leaned in to kiss your neck as you felt his hands make their way out to your wrists. Trapping you against the bed without a way to push him off. Fuck, it felt good. 

“Okay, well don't do that either.” You tried to deny the way Jake made you feel as your core ignited into a needy throb as his mouth left marks up and down your neck, clearly on purpose. 

“Why not?” Jake asked softly through a moan so pornographic it had you holding back your own little whimper in response. He was having far too much fun with this, knowing that he was getting you all worked up underneath him. 

“Because this isn't gonna go anywhere Seresin.” 

“Big deal.” Pulling away, Jake hovered over you as he wrapped his hands tightly around your wrists. “I just met you, for all I know you could be a psychopath.” He shrugged. “I'm not looking for commitment, and don't even mention the word monogamy because I might actually decide that with it being this close to halloween, I could get away murder.” It wasn't anywhere near the answer you were expecting, nor the rational, but Jake made you laugh regardless. He deserved an explanation, even if it was half assed and kind of egotistical of you to assume he’d fall for you. 

“I'm not trying to be mean, I just–I don't want you getting too attached.” 

“Hey, You jumped me.” That wasn't entirely wrong but it wasn't exactly how you remembered the bathroom incident occurring. But you couldn't deny that when you made it back to Jake's hotel room that you weren't all over him like a bad rash. You did jump him, and jump you did. “Not that I didn't mind it, it was great.” Jake made sure to add before you got the wrong idea. “We had a good time, it was actually very good, and I don't know about you but it was some of my best work.” 

“Your best work huh?” You egged Jake on as he leaned in to kiss your lips. You could feel his length hardening against your core as he did so, the blood rushed from one head to the other and like most of the time, Jake Seresin was thinking with his dick and not his actual brain. 

“In the bathroom too which isn't easy, especially in that weird little unisex bathroom of the bar, truly, you had me working overtime.” Jake kissed his way down your chin to your neck. His hands let go of your wrists as he slowly but surely made his way down your chest, making sure to kiss your nipples tenderly as he passed them by. 

“And now?” Jake groaned as he reached your naval, looking up at you through emerald green eyes that reflected nothing but lust back at you. “Now you think you’re my sun and my moon?”   

“Jake–” You whimpered as he sank lower and lower, settling between your legs as his hands pushed your legs further apart.

“That all of a sudden I think all the stars shine bright around you and only you?” Kitten licks, that's how you’d describe the way Jake swiped his tongue across your folds to collect any and all the arousal you were willing to give him, the arousal he was behind. “That you touched me and the heavens opened up and I'm suddenly blinded by the angel that is you?” 

“Possibly–” was it so hard to believe you were a catch? Couldn’t anyone just pick you, choose you, love you for you? Or were you always doomed to be the second choice, the constellation prize. 

“You’re good, I'll give you that, but you ain’t that good sweetheart.” Two fingers slowly pressed themselves inside you and your back arched with pleasure. With expert movements, Jake curled his digits up into your velvet walls and smirked against your sensitive bundle of nerves as you covered your face. Overcome by embarrassment and need. 

“I did jump you, didn't I?” You had to agree that Jake was a very jumpable guy. 

“Yeah–you did.” It was the way Jake curled his fingers up inside you and licked against your clit to keep the pleasure building at a beautiful pace inside your core that had you going insane. Here this beautiful single man was between your thighs, eating you out like you were his last meal and all you could think about was just how mad Bradley Bradshaw was going to be when he found out. 

“Okay well point taken.” You had to curl your hands into the sheets of the mattress to hold off your approaching orgasm, you wanted to hold it, experience the pleasure Jake was very generous giving. “You’re not after me.”

“I'm not after you, you'd have to be at the very least, married for me to fall in love with you.” Jake teased as he watched your facial expressions, he knew you were close, but that didn't mean he was going to stop his assault on you. If anything he knew to not change a single thing he was doing, you were right where he wanted you to be. Just on the edge but not close enough to fall. After all, they didn't call him Hangman for nothing. He liked his women on the edge for as long as he could keep them there. Floating in a paradox of pleasure he created. 

“Oh god Jake, please, I’m so fucking close.” You whined in need of release as your hips bucked and your walls clenched around Jake's digits. 

“We, are at the bare minimum, strangers who maybe get to know each other a little more and have sex whenever and where they please and if applicable, annoy the hell out of the very oh so much in love Bradshaws until our hearts content.” Jake spoke against your core to slow down your orgasms approach, you were far too pretty on the edge to not revel in. 

“We’re strangers who had sex one time, I don't think we should be doing this on a consistent basis.” You hissed just trying to chase your release. It was right there in front of you. 

“We’re strangers who had sex four times in one night.” Jake made sure to correct you as he looked up from his place between your thighs as your arousal coated his chin. “Four times.” He repeated as he showed you four of his digits, two of which glistened in the warmth of the sun's glow and left you feeling empty for a few moments. “Let's not get picky about labels here, Siren.” 

“Will you just give me a damn orgasm already!” Jake smirked as he watched the frustration build inside you. “How irritating can one person be!” You groaned as Jake went back to what he started and hell, it didn't take you long to get right back to where you’d been. “Oh god!” 

“Come on Siren, let go.” Love has all sorts of boundaries. “Let go for me sweetheart.” We know this. We knock them down, build them back up and knock them down again over and over and over again. But does it have to be that way? Can’t we learn, can't we be brave? Can’t we believe because that's all we need? A little courage, a little hope, a little belief. 

“Ohhhh fuughh–” It was blinding, the stars the feeling of pure and utter ecstasy “Jake–!” The way you moaned his name out loud had Jake wanting to cum against the bedsheets. “Oh my god–yes!” His name echoed off the hotel walls and Jake had never heard a prettier sound. “Jake! Jake Jake Jake Jake Jake–ohhhh god.” Your body trembled as you came on his tongue, your core dripped right into his mouth as he ate you until his cravings were satisfied. 

“You’re a vision.” Jake sighed as he crawled up your naked body and let you taste yourself on his lips as you wrapped him up in your arms. “Please don't go cold turkey on us, I could get used to this.” 

“I like men who beg.” You admitted confidently with enough conviction in your tone to have Jake believe you immediately. 

“Does that mean Roosters a begging man?” Jake asked as you rolled him over onto his back, he let you manhandle him till you were straddling his waist. “Because that kinda turns me on just a little bit.” 

“Do you swing both ways?” You asked as you rolled your hips and moved your dripping sex across Jake's hardened length as his hands helped to guide your hips. Rocking you slowly to build the friction he desired. 

“Sexual orientation is just an artificial construct.” Maybe there are no boundaries to love if we choose not to see them. 

“So is marriage, so it seems.” You teased as you sunk down on Jakes length and reveled in the way his mouth opened with pure joy. His eyes ignited with a light so bright you, for just a brief moment, loved the colour green so much it nearly became your favourite. “Love your dick.” 

“Let's make it five times–” Maybe love is unlimited if we’re just brave enough to decide love is limitless. And maybe, just maybe, there's enough love for everyone. In all kinds of constructs. Including but not limited to strangers who have sex to fill hopeless voids of self pity and doubt.   

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“How's the nose?” Kaite asked the second Bradley had come down the stairs of the home they still shared. It wasn't there, they rented, but they were both still very much on the lease. “Can you still breathe?” 

“Unfortunately.” Bradley sighed under his breath as he rounded the corner into the kitchen where his wife stood making herself a cup of coffee. “Why do you care so much about my nose?” 

“I don't care about your nose.” Katie made herself clear as she stirred the two heaped teaspoons of sugar into her mug. Bradley hoped her teeth would all fall out because of it. He also thought maybe, just maybe, he’d switch out the sugar for salt just to see her annoyed. He wasn't a bad person, he just didn't love his cheating wife. “I care about the fact you made a fool out of me in front of ev–” Before Katie could even finish her sentence Bradley was erupting into a boisterous laugh right there in the kitchen. 

“You care I punched Seresin? That I made a fool out of you?” Bradley had to repeat it all just so that had the right picture. “Last time I fucking checked I’m the one whos walking around like some sad kicked puppy who took his adulteress wife back, kinda feel like I’m the fool, not you.” 

“Do you think that little whore of yours went back into the Hard Deck and got to know Hangman a little more?” Katie replied as calmly as she could. “Or do you think she just went home and cried herself to sleep over the fact you broke her precious heart?” 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that right?” Bradley hissed through gritted teeth. “You are the bane of my fuckign existence!!” 

“I may be unbelievable but I'm not the one who's gonna lose her career.” Katie snickered like your career meant nothing, everything you’d worked so hard for, to achieve, meant nothing to her. “And I’ve been thinking, I want you to start trying more, I want you to start acting like you love me–” 

“The navy doesn't pay me enough to act–”

“But my dad will.” 

“What?” Bradley scoffed. “What the hell are you talking about?” This was once the woman Bradley thought he’d spent the rest of his life with, now not a day went past he didn’t think of the days where he woke up next to you. 

“I want a baby Bradley.” Katie said the one thing that made Bradley want to throw up. He couldn't keep doing this, he couldn't create a life with a woman who he didn’t love or like enough to raise a child he didn't want. “And you’re gonna give me one whether you like it or not.” 

“Are you truly fucking demented Katie!?” Bradley shouted across the kitchen so loud it hurt his sinuses. “We aren't having a baby!” It sounded crazy to even say. “I won't, I'm not doing this anymore.” He scoffed and tried to leave, but Katie grabbed at his wrist. “Let go of me you crazy bitch!” 

“I swear to god if you leave Bradley I'll take everything from that girl. Do you understand me?” Katie spat venom his way and immediately Bradley froze. “She will have nothing, no job, no benefits, no income, no one to love her and not only that but I will take everything you have until you are the shell of the man you once were.” 

“Why are you doing this to me?” All Bradley ever wanted was the love his parents had. He thought he had it once, but love held bounds he couldn't forgive. “Why? Why not just take everything I have, everything I am and let me move on?” It was a justified question, why did Katie need to punish you? You hadnt done anything wrong. “I’ll give you everything I have just stop bringing Y/n into this! She’s done nothing!” 

“Because she's the only reason you won't leave and I don't want to lose you because I messed up.” The crocodile tears were the worst part, no matter how many Katie shed Bradley never felt an ounce of remorse for her. She had made her bed and at the end of the day Bradley believed she should lie in it. But he wasn't going to lay with her.  “I love you, Bradley.” Katie cried as she stepped close to him, Bradley remained still, hoping that if he didn’t move she wouldn't see him. “I want to start a family with you, we aren't getting any younger and trust me, that girl you’re convinced you’re in love with isn’t in love with you, I have on good authority that she left the bar with someone last night.” 

“Please don't say it.” Bradley begged, if he knew he knew. He couldn't tell himself it was all in his head. If he knew what you did or more importantly who you did he couldn't forget it. He couldn't undo what had been done once it had been spoken into the universe. “Katie, please, don't say it.” 

Kaite Bradshaw reached out to touch her husband's cheek as she chuckled under her breath. He was truly a broke man. 

“She fucked him honey.” She cooed like it wasn't a knife through Bradley's heart. All this time he’d been protecting you hoping that one day you'd see it was all worth it. That he was worth it, that you were worth suffering for. “Well, Bob said that they were fucking in the bathroom but who knows who fucked who and if they fucked once they left together.” Katie shrugged as she tapped Bradleys cheek three times before she turned on her heels. “I love you, got it?” She spoke with venom in her words. “I am the best you're getting Bradley, me, your wife, and we’re trying for a baby so next time, when we’re out in public? Act like we are or so help me god i'll make your life a living hell." It was then in the heat of the moment that Kaite Bradshaw reached out to slap Bradleys cheek, with force. The force was so harsh to made Bradley turn his neck, it made him question his life, his entire existence and purpose on earth. 

Bradley knew about the concept of blackmail, truly he did. But he never thought he'd end up in an abusive relationship that he couldn't get out of without the  woman he thought he loved getting hurt in the crossfire. Love didn't hurt like this with you, nothing hurt with you. 

“Tell me you love me.” Katie sounded like she ordered Bradley to speak, he did on command like a beaten down dog scared of the consequences that would follow if he didn’t.

“I love you.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “I love you.” 

“Put a baby in me?” Bradley thought about your smile, how infectious it was. He thought about your laugh and how no matter where you were on base he swore he could hear it always. He thought about everything that made you good and pure and he knew he couldn't be involved in ruining your life. He wouldn't let his wife do that to you. He couldn't do that to you, he had a choice to keep you safe and in doing so he was drowning, he was going under in a sea full of hopelessness and depression. But at least you were happy, that was the only thing that mattered to Bradley Bradshaw. 

Even if it was the man who had taken everything from him that was making you happy and not him. 

“Anything for you dear.” Bradley choked back his tears when Katie smiled back at him and reached out for his hand, guiding him back up the stairs. “Anything for you.” All Bradley could think about as he walked up the stairs towards the very bedroom he hadnt set foot in since his wife had come back was you. All the stars shined bright around you and only you. You were the sun and moon to Bradley, the gates of heaven opened whenever you spoke and he was just happy to walk the same earth you did. So he’d do this, he’d live in his own version of hell to keep you happy, to keep you safe, to keep you from being forced to give up the one thing you loved more than life itself, flying. 

“I love you Baby.” Katie cooed as she wrapped her arms up around Bradleys neck and brought him down for a kiss. “Never forget how much I love you.” She didn't love him, this wasn’t love, this was blackmail, this was abusive, this was mental manipulation. 

“Did you say that to Jake too?” Bradley snarled as he gripped Katies waist. She just smirked, she knew she had broken her husband beyond repair. Even you wouldn't be able to put him back together, not when Jake was busy keeping you occupied and distracted. 

“I still do.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

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[ohtobeleah]

Damn You Seresin // Jake Seresin

Summary: After a near fatal car accident sends Jake into a coma, you come to terms with the fact that saying goodbye was always going to be tough. No matter the situation.

Warnings: Character Death. Crush injuries. Car accident. Jake Seresin x female reader.

Word Count: 1.5k

Author Note: Day Thirteen of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Crushed. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

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Although Jake Seresin was a bit of a risk taker in the sky–he was, if anything, one of the safest drivers on planet earth. He never ran red lights or forgot to look at stop signs. He gave way, checked his blind spots, always drove the speed limit and never, ever drove without his seatbelt on. 

He got his Ford F-150 serviced whenever it was due, he rotated his tiers and changed his oil. He took care of his truck and others on the road hoping that good karma would come back his way and keep him just as safe. 

But it wasn't enough. You got the devastating call on Saturday night. You'd been up late working on your thesis for genetically enhanced proteins. The pros, the cons, the effects. It had been a long night, but any minute you were expecting Jake to pull up in the drive. You were expecting him to come through the front door smiling, ready to take you in his arms and carry you up the stairs. You were ready to hear all about Roosters antics and Fanboys latest obsessions. You were ready to fall asleep soundly in your fiance’s arms like you had done a hundred times before and would do a hundred times more if given the chance. 

But Jake never came home. Although Jake Seresin was a careful driver, it just wasn't enough for the drunk driver who had come around the corner at one hundred miles an hour and smashed into his truck head on. Crushing him entirely. 

“It would have been better if he died in the crash—“ You’d been at Jake's side ever since he’d been out of his many many surgeries. He was barely alive–but there was always hope. “He’d be just as dead, but you wouldn’t be feeling like this.”

The doctor who was speaking barely sounded audible, you couldn't focus on anything but the plethora of machines that were keeping Jake, your darling boy, alive. Just barely. It had been just a week and you missed him to a height that you never thought you could miss someone. He was right there, right in front of you, yet he was a world away. Gone. 

“This way, he died in slow motion.”

“He’s not dead–” You hissed as you gripped your fiance's hand just a little tighter, trying to will him to wake up. Rooster all but let out a sob as he crossed his arms over his chest and cleared his throat. Sure, you were Jake's Medical Proxy– but Bradley was your person. He knew you almost better than Jake did. He knew you knew that it was the end of the line–you just couldn't be the one to make that call. 

“Y/n, just listen alright–you don't have to make a decision right now–but, just listen to what she has to say.” At Bradleys request, you listened to the doctor who spoke almost monotone. Rooster came to stand beside you with his hands on your shoulders comfortingly. He just wanted you to be alright, he always promised Hangman that if anything ever happened–he’d take care of you. Bradley always thought Jake would go out in a burning fire ball of Jet fuel, he never once thought he’d be taken by a drunk driver. There one minute…gone the next. 

“On Monday his heart ruptured and they repaired it but on Tuesday, his lungs collapsed. By Thursday his kidneys failed and the sepsis and infection took three more days to kill his brain.” It was hard to hear a timeline of the father of your unborn child’s medical conditions laid out so clearly—but you needed to hear it to clear the delusional fog that was keeping you from seeing the bigger picture. 

“Okay, alright so we give his body time to rest and he’ll pull through, right?” The room was completely still besides the monitors beeping rhythmically. The doctor, Annabella Davis, just shook her head in response as Bradleys grip on your shoulders tightened. 

“Y/n—if Jake had died in the car accident by the side of the road, if you had seen him zipped up in a bag and driven off, he would be every bit as gone as he is right now—but you would know it.” It was almost as hard to hear as the voice that echoed in your memory from that phone call. That call that changed your life forever. “And you can take some comfort in that. I didn’t know him like you did but I would imagine he would have wanted you to have that comfort.” 

Jake was meant to live a long happy life– but here he was, crushed to death by some drunk driver in the car he took care of so that it would take care of him. None of it made any sense to you. Why him? Why you? Why would your child that you only found out about a week ago, grow up without a father, without a dad who loved them dearly and so tenderly. Jake would have been a great dad—he always said he was scared to be anything like his own, but sitting beside his body, broken and bruised, you wished he knew about the life the two of you had created. 

“I love him so much.” But you didn't want him to suffer anymore than he already had. At this point you were just keeping him on life support for your own benefit. You didn't want to let go–until you looked around and took in all the machines that were keeping your fiance breathing. All the machines that were assisting him, pumping his blood, breathing for him. There was no brain activity. Jake Seresin was gone and had been since you first got to his side. He waited that long, just to see you one last time. To say goodbye. To forever remember your beautiful face. 

“Bring me the papers—“ Now it was your turn to say goodbye, to let go. To start a life without Jake Seresin in it. Something you thought you'd never have to do. All because of a drunk driver. “He doesn't need to be in pain anymore.” The tears had begun and you weren't sure if they would ever stop. “Bring me the papers please, Doctor Davis.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*

“Is that–everything?” You asked softly as you stepped towards Jake's hospital bed. The nurses had just finished taking Jake off all the machines that kept him alive. No pain relief, no support. He was just simply him. He looked so peaceful all things considered. 

“Uh yes—yes that’s everything.” Doctor Davis confirmed as she pressed her lips into a fine line.  “It's just a matter of time now.” 

“Okay.” You sighed, taking a seat beside the love of your life for the final time. His hand was cold, unlike all the other times. He was fading. 

“Damn you Seresin, damn you.” Bradley stayed off to the side. He didn’t want to leave you alone but he respected your sorrow enough to give you space. He just wanted to be there—again, just in case you needed him. He had promised Hangman he’d be there, for everything. 

“This is why it took me three fucking years to tell you that I loved you and another three years before I moved in with you.” A small, barely audible chuckle crept through the tears and sadness in your voice as you watched the rise and fall of Jake's chest. He was breathing, but barely. 

“You always thought I was scared of commitment. Scared to commit.” You were a wreck, but you knew that in Jake's final moments you wanted it to be your voice that carried his spirit away. You wanted to be the guiding light for his soul like he had been yours here on earth. “But no honey, no it was never that—it was because I was scared of this, I was scared of just how much I loved you.” 

Bradley Bradshaw had never seen such a love burn as deep and true the way you and Jake Seresin loved one another. Sure he always thought his parent’s relationship was the peak of love. But then there was you and Hangman. And nothing could compare. 

“I was scared of the feeling that I’d never be able to find happiness without you. That’s what I was so scared of Jake. I was scared of this.” In those few seconds where Jake's body completely stilled, you knew he was gone. Your husband was gone and you were all alone. Left to live a life without the one man you never wanted to live without. He was your best friend, your husband, your partner in crime, the father of your child. 

And he was just gone. Without any reason to explain the fact that he was on his way home to you when he was hit, when he was taken from you. When you’d lost the love of your life. 

“Oh my god, damn you.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

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[ohtobeleah]

Panic Room // Jake Seresin

Summary: Between his ex, bird strikes and suicidal mission parameters it’s hard to keep a lid on things. So when you help Jake through a panic attack in the locker room, you become his lifelong lifeline.

Warnings: Panic Attacks. Mentions of bisexuality. Jake Seresin x Platonic!F!reader.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author Note: Day Eight of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Panic Attack. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

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It’s the way Jake's flight suit feels on his body that comes first. Usually the Normex onesie doesn’t bother him, but as he made strides up the tarmac straight for the hanger, it felt like the weight of the world had come down on him. Crushing his existence, petrifying his soul. 

“Hey Hangman—“ He doesn’t register whose voice it is until he sees Fanboy racing up beside him. “You okay man?” Jake doesn’t respond, he just keeps putting one foot in front of the other until he’s found himself back in the locker room. It’s empty, thank god. 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Next it’s the heat, his body temperature has skyrocketed. He can feel his skin boiling against the surface of the sink he’s choosing to rest his palms on while he stares himself down in the mirror. Jake can recognise the reddish hume that’s taking his cheeks hostage and the ruby red rash that’s littering his neck. A physical attribute that gave away immediately what was happening. 

But he couldn't stop the fear from consuming him entirely. 

“No no no no no—“ Not long after the heat had started to overwhelm him, the palpitations began. Jake could feel his heart hammering away inside his chest and while he tried to calm himself down by splashing water across his face, it didn’t seem to help. It didn’t curve the rise of his panic—the overwhelming sense of fear and anxiety that crept up on him like a title wave growing and growing and growing in the distance. 

You know something’s building, but by the time you understand that it’s a wall of water heading your way you’re already caught in its deathly path. Unable to run, unable to get out of the way. You have nothing left to do except to hold your breathe and hopefully float up to the top of the wall of water coming at you at a hundred miles an hour. 

“100–“ It’s a coping mechanism. “96, 92, 88–“ Jake Seresin has done this for many years and he’d continue to do it for many more. “84, 80–“ But it’s not helping, nothings helping. “Okay, you’re okay—“ Nothing ever helps, not the usually cool, calm and cock sure Aviator that people look at for reassurance in themselves. Jake wasn't afraid of anything–not according to his fellow aviators. So when he watched from the rec room as Bob and Phoenix burned in, he knew that he had to get out of the line of sight before he completely lost his mind. 

“Fuck!” Jake pushed himself away from the sink and started to make his way over to his locker, he’d just watched Natasha Phoenix Trace and Robert Bob Floyd fall from the sky before their F-18 crashed into a fiery ball of debris and it sparked the fuse, the ever looming presence of existential danger that lingered over Jake. The fear he had since day one, that he’d burn in and burn in alone. 

The panic attacks though, they started right after his first air to air kill. Something about the gravity of taking another life really made his heart race. They got worse however when Bradley Rooster Bradshaw broke his heart, left him high and dry and said he couldn’t do their relationship anymore. Jake thought it was ironic that his callsign was Hangman when it was always Bradshaw that was leaving him out to dry. 

And being here? In Miramar with his ex boyfriend skulking around like he was the most downtrodden man on planet earth and his colleagues falling from the sky and the goddamn mission parameters that sounded an awful lot like a suicide mission, made up a perfectly concocted environment to seemingly disintegrate the facade of an egomaniacal man who just couldn’t stand to be second place. 

Jake had worked too hard on his exoskeleton persona for it to be flawed by panic attacks. He wouldn't let his colleague see him like this, so weak and broken and– 

“Hangman?” Fuck….

Your voice sounded muffled at first, maybe it was because of the buzzing in Jake's ears or the fact he could practically feel his blood pumping in his veins. “Jake?” But the more you spoke the clearer your voice became. “Fanboy said he saw you run in here, you alright?” 

“Fine.” Jake struggled out as he undid his flight suit and ripped his arms from the sleeves. “All good.” You knew he was lying, you could hear the struggle in his voice. But when you saw how soaked his black T-shirt was against his skin, you knew it had to have been bad. 

“Hangman?” You stepped a little closer, slowly, like you were trying your very best not to spook a wild animal. “You can talk to me, if you want to.” You and Jake were considered for the most part to be friendly. For a little while before you were called back to TopGun—you were his wing woman when you were both assigned/attached to the strike fighter squadron VFA-151 Vigilantes. “But if you say you’re okay, I believe you.” You and Jake had gotten close there at one point, and maybe in another life the two of you could have been more. 

But it wasn't meant to be. He was far too arrogant for his own good and you were far too inside your one head to be able to deal with such an extraverted soul. 

“I’m—“ Jake stopped himself for a moment as he spun around to lean against the lockers. He couldn’t stop the panic as his hands shook and his heart raced, causing him to hyperventilate. “It’s just a—“ 

“Panic attack.” You finished Jake's sentence for him as you moved closer to sit on the bench in front of where he stood. You didn’t want to invade his personal space, but you wanted him to know that you weren’t going anywhere unless he asked you to leave. “My uh—my sister would experience them pretty frequently when we were teenagers, she always felt like she was dying.” 

“I can’t breathe.” Jake had all the coping mechanisms he ever needed in order to persevere through an attack. But right now? With you sitting in front of him as he leaned up against the lockers with a heavy heart inside his chest and skin that looked flushed to the touch—he’d forgotten them all. “I can’t breathe!” 

“Okay.” You stood slowly, reaching out for Jake’s hands to give them a firm squeeze. “Here, squeeze my hand back.” You’d never seen your wingman like this before, so vulnerable. Jake was normally this broad shouldered man with emerald green eyes who could conquer anything. He’d said it himself at the Hard Deck, the mission didn’t confront him. But it clearly did. “Come on, squeeze my hands.” When Jake finally did what you were asking him to do, you smiled softly up at him and reached out for his cheek to gently rub the pad of your thumb across the flushed skin of his cheek. 

“Good, now look at me Hangman.” Jake again did as he was told and you really had to stop yourself from getting lost in his emerald gaze. “Take a deep breath in, hold it just for two seconds, and slowly exhale alright? I’ll do it with you, keep squeezing my hands.” 

Jake never took his eyes off you as he slowly but surely did as you instructed. He slid down the lockers, his knees had become too weak to hold the weight of the world that had crumbled around him. 

“I don't even know why–” Jake tried to speak as he slowly but surely slid down the lockers, his back scratched against the doors as he did so. “Why you’re doing this?” 

“Easy, easy big guy.” You cooed as you followed Jake down as his back slid down the lockers. You sat next to him, taking deep breaths in and exhaling just the same. Still squeezing each other's hands until Jake wasn’t hyperventilating anymore. “And we’re friends aren't we? Or something like that, it's what friends do I guess.” 

“Are they alright?” Jake sighed as he let his head fall to your shoulder, exhausted and completely numb. “Phoenix and Bob?” You knocked your boot against Jakes in return. 

“Yeah, they’ll probably be kept overnight for observation but I’ll check with Mav once I’m finished with you.” You replied as you just sat with Jake, still hand in hand. He didn’t want to let go. “And for the record, I don’t think you should be picking fights with your ex in the middle of debriefing sessions—if you still love him, just tell him man, my god.” 

“Bradshaw doesn't deserve it, he likes to play the victim of his own confidence.” It was the first time Jake had actually confirmed to you that Bradley was in fact the ex that left him out to dry. There had been a few nights over a few beers that Jake had mentioned his ex boyfriend, but never did he ever mention a name. You only started to connect the dots once you were here and had seen the pair of them interact. “I just like stirring the pot.” Jake smiled as he felt his heart rate settling. “Probably stirred the pot a little too much though.” He sighed before admitting defeat. “I haven’t had a real bad one like that for a while.” 

“If you ever have one again, you can always call me.” You say without hesitation. “I mean it, I’ve got you.” 

“You’ve got me do you?” Jake asked as he raised his head from your shoulder. You turned to look up at him and nodded. “Best wingman around, aren't you Ace?” You could tell Jake was settling into his skin again, the panic had begun to subside into his mind again, the adrenaline had begun to deplete and he was mellowing out. He was calming down. You had calmed him down.

“Someone’s gotta look after you.” It was the nonchalant shrug that made Jake chuckle. He liked you, he always had. You were fun and energetic and never had a bad thing to say about anyone, including him. Which was refreshing all things considered, everyone always had someone bad to say about Jake Seresin. 

“And that someone’s you?” Jake even thought to himself a time or two that he could see himself rebuilding his love life with you. Meaningless one night stands were fine, but he wanted more—he needed depth and intelligence that buckle bunnies and Bradley Bradshaw never seemed to give him. All the lights were on and yet no one was home with that man. 

“Unfortunately that responsibility was bestowed upon me.” You teased as you stood and reached out to give Jake a hand up. He took it even though he didn’t need it. “So yeah, I’ve got you anytime you need me.” 

“I’ll do my best to remember that.” Jake replied as he cleared his throat, the room spun for a moment but he caught himself quickly. “I should probably have a shower.” 

“Yeah—just don’t have the water too hot, it can mess with you after an attack.” You explained like it was knowledge that just roamed free in your kind. Jake raised a single brow your way. He knew. He knew by the crescent moon scars in your palms that you knew what it was like to drown on dry land.

“Like I said, my sister gets them bad too.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt t

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #jake seresin x reader #Jake Seresin whump #jake seresin x bradley bradshaw #jake seresin angst #top gun fanfiction #topgun maverick #TopGun hangman #tw: panic attacks

[ohtobeleah]

Odds Are? // Robert Floyd

Summary: A quiet night at the Hard Deck doesn’t stay that way when two men hold you at gunpoint for the combination to the safe.

Warnings: Gun violence. Bob Floyd x F!reader. Character death. Bobby boy whump.

Word Count: 3.1k

Author Note: Day Five of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Held At Gunpoint. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

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“For a guy who doesn’t drink you sure like to hang around my bar an awful lot Bob.” It was one of the quietest afternoons the Hard Deck had ever seen. Monday night was usually the most boring night to close, but every now and then you didn’t mind the lul in patrons. It gave you a good excuse to reset the bar supplies, clean the nooks and crannies that often got missed, refill salt and pepper shakers that sat on the dining tables along with the accompanying sauce bottles. “Do you wanna help me slice these lemons?” 

Bob sat across from where you stood slicing a new batch of lemons and limes into small wedges. He nursed a glass of lemonade between his hands as he nodded in response. Completely and utterly spellbound by the sound of your voice coaxing him to come behind the bar. Uncharted territory for all the Daggers. 

Penny had a rule: No fly boys behind the bar. But you wouldn’t tell. Not when it was half an hour till closing time and Bob was the only patron left in the entire building. 

“I uh, I enjoy the company, Miss Simpson.” 

“What are the odds that I’m going to have to tell you that it’s Y/n again?” You sighed playfully as the heat in your cheeks rose. Bob came to stand behind where you stood, slicing your latest lime. He couldn’t see it, but he knew a smirk was creeping across your oh so beautiful face. “Or Gidget at least.” 

Bob was feeling a little more bold than he usually was, so before he answered he gently pushed your hair to one side to expose the junction of your neck. His fingers danced across your skin igniting your senses as they did so, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

“At least once more, Miss Simpson.” Bob cooed as he leaned in to softly press his lips right below your ear. “You’re dad scares the hell outta me, I wouldn’t want him to think that I would ever disrespect his daughter.” 

As Bob's hands trailed down to your hips to keep you steady on your feet, he heard a soft but audible chuckle escape you as you placed the knife down on the chopping board and spun around to face him. 

“You call what we did last night respectful, Lieutenant Floyd?” The memory sat at the very forefront of Bob's mind. You were the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, physically and emotionally. But in all the time Bob had known you—he never thought you were more beautiful than when you were on top of him, completely naked and on full display just for him, rocking your hips back and forth as the angelic sounds of your needy little whines echoed off his bedroom walls. 

“You didn’t seem to have any complaints.” Bob teased as he pulled you into him. Your hands came flying up to cup his clean cut cheeks as his supple lips ghosted yours. “But no ma’am—that was very disrespectful of me.” Bob let his forehead rest against yours as he took in the way you bit your bottom lips in anticipation. “You should totally reprimand me, you know—for being so disrespectful to such a lovely respectful lady such as yourself.” 

“Hmm—“ You hummed in response. “How about you help me slice these lemons, shut up shop and maybe, I’ll let you disrespect me some more?” 

“You’re a miscreant, Miss Simpson.” 

“And you’re a very good fuck, Lieutenant Floyd.” It was then you reached around to grab one of the lemons that were still yet to be cut and held it up before Bob's face. “But lemons first.” 

Bob took the lemon in his hand before he looked back down at you. His eyes told you he was all in, all in for you and everything you could give him. His lips gently pressed themselves against yours for a fleeting moment. But with Robert Floyd time stood still. 

“Yes ma’am.” He replied before he let you turn back around to get back to the likes you’d been working away at. Sorting them into containers for the next few days. “I’ll uh, I’m just gonna head to the bathroom real quick and then I promise, I’ll be the best bar assistant you’ve ever had.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” You watched as Bob rounded out from behind the bar, you pointed the very tip of your knife at him as he walked away. “But I wouldn’t give up your day job just yet, I know flying multi million dollar fighter jets is life threatening and all, but I’ve had some pretty serious run ins with some pesky lemon seeds before that would just make your heart stop.” 

Bob knew in that very moment he wanted more. Whatever the two of you were, he wanted more. He wanted you at every point in the morning, noon and night. He wanted you day in and day out, hour after hour, minute after minute. Ever since he first saw you shaking hands with Penny after accepting a casual bartending job while you were staying at your dads place, he knew he wanted to know you in some aspect. 

But by god did Robert Floyd fall hard for Admiral Simpson's only daughter. You couldn’t make it easy on the guy could you? No—you just had to be the daughter of the guy who could make or break Bob's career. 

“I’ll be back in a minute—“ You expected Bob to call you Miss Simpson like he always did. Even when the two of you were romantically involved he wouldn’t say your name. It felt too real then. Like if he said your name you’d slip right through his fingers. It was simple ‘darlin’ if it wasn’t Miss Simpson. But as Bob stopped in his tracks and knocked his knuckles on the bar, he sent you a soft smile—half sided and crooked as all hell. “Y/n, I’ll be back in a minute Y/n.” 

“Hurry back, Bob.” Bob's eyes lingered on you for a few more seconds before he disappeared out of sight. You couldn’t contain the smirk that plastered itself across your face as you went back to cutting your lemons and limes. 

You could see yourself really falling in love here. With Bob, the shy but albeit sweet as sweet could be fly boy who just took your breath away with such ease. You always told yourself that you’d never fall for a Naval Aviator—you didn’t want to live that life. But with Bob it seemed so effortless, so simple, so—organically meant to be. 

“Are you still open sweetheart?” A man’s voice broke you out of the daydream you’d fallen into thinking about Bob and all the things that made him, simply him. 

“Oh!” You looked around for the clock, confirming the time before you answered the gentleman poking his head through the front door. “Yeah—yeah I’ve still got a good fifteen minutes before I start closing down the bar.” 

“Sounds like just enough time.” The man smiled as he entered the bar, soon enough he was followed by two other men who all wore black denim jeans in black puffer jackets. “I’ll get a rum and coke if that’s not too much to ask for, sugar.” 

“What brings you fellas in so late on a Monday night?” You asked as you wiped your hands on your apron, your hands were covered in lemon and lime juice. But you went about fetching the gentleman his order. 

“Oh you know—“ One of the men began as he sat up on one of the barstools. “We’re just here to make some quick cash.” You weren’t too sure if you had heard the man correctly as you poured his shot into the cool class. But when you looked up to see the handgun sitting on top of the bar, with the safety off and a fully loaded clip, you knew you had heard him correctly. “You’re gonna finish making me that drink, and then you’re going to give us whatever you’ve got in that till there.” 

Although you could have sworn your heart was about to explode out of your chest from the fear coursing through your veins, you stood firm and kept a stoic look upon your face as you reached for the soda gun. 

“Unfortunately gentleman you picked the wrong night of the week to hold the joint up.” You sighed, going about your business as normal. Finishing off the drink the man with the gun had ordered before you placed it right in front of him on a little Hard Deck coaster. “Float only carries two hundred and twenty five dollars in it at any one time, and that’s on a good night.” 

“All that extra overflows gotta go somewhere, doesn’t it girly?” The man sitting off to the right added as he played with a straw he’d plucked from the dispenser. 

“The hand soaps a little low in the mens.”

Your heart froze inside your chest at Bob's voice, sweet baby boy Bob. “I can refill it if you’d like? I just need the key—“ As Bob looked up to see three men sitting around the bar, he didn’t immediately think anything was wrong. It was only when his eyes saw the hand gun top of the bar that he froze. “Give them what they want—“ 

“Bob—“ You warned as you crained your neck his way. “Don’t.” 

“Oh what have we got here boys?” The main man with the gun chuckled to himself with utter glee when he noticed Bob wearing none other than his service khakis. “A naval man.” He snickered to his buddies as they all got up from the barstools they’d taken seats on. “How’s good old Uncle Sam treating you?” 

“Not as well as you’d expect—“ Was all Bob replied with as he made sure his hands could be seen. His eyes never left yours though as he watched you frozen behind the bar. “Whatever you want, take it—just don’t hurt her.” 

“Oh he’s a hero lads!” The man with the gun laughed as he walked closer and closer over to where Bob had frozen in his tracks. “Lucky for you—she doesn’t get hurt if she just gives us what we want.” 

“Then take it and leave.” Bob hissed, he wasn’t taking any risks here. Whatever these guys wanted they could have it. Nothing was as valuable as your life was. Nothing couldn’t be made back or re-purchased. But there wasn’t another you. 

“Where’s the safe dollface?” The man with the guy who’s eyes reminded you of soulless pits of darkness turned back to face you. “Because odds are you won’t wanna see Mr. Military Man here with a bullet between his eyes, would you?” 

“It’s in the back.” You whimpered as tears streamed down your flushed cheeks. Bob could see how scared you really were, how frightened you’d become the moment he walked in the room. “I’ll take you to it but I don’t know the code—“ You weren’t lying. Penny hadn’t told anyone the combination to the safe. She’d leave it unlocked until you cashed out. Once you put the cash in for the night? That was that—you couldn’t open it again. “And I already changed out the till for the night. So again—I’ve got two hundred and twenty five dollars here, all yours.” 

As soon as you had said you didn’t know the code, the man holding the gun with the dark soulless eyes pointed the gun he held in his head directly at you. Bob moved to step in the way—if that guy was gonna shoot anyone it was gonna be him. 

“Woah, woah, woah, woah—“ Bob panicked. This was not what he had had in mind for a quiet Monday night. “Just take the whole safe? If she can’t unlock it, just take the whole thing.” 

“You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve standing between this gun and that girl Lieutenant.” The man growled as his two buddies went to stand on either side of Bob as you watched from behind the bar. “Keep him busy while little miss over here shows me where the safe is.” 

Your legs wouldn’t move, it felt like you were glued in the spot you stood as the fear rushed through your adrenal glands. 

“Get the fuck over here before I change my mind and shoot you both.” Again you couldn’t move, you couldn’t barely begin to think about moving one foot in front of the other. But then there was Bob. 

“Y/n—“ Bob warned as he turned around to face you. “Just give them whatever they want, and they’ll leave.” He reminded you, making sure to keep his composure as calm as he could. “I’m right here, just show him where the safe is.” 

“Honey so help me god if we don’t get what we came here for someone is gonna end up dead.” The click of the pin being pulled back made you jump before you were rushing around to the other side of the way. “Atta girl—“ 

“Bob—“ You whimpered as you made your way past. He was all that you wish you could have been and more. Brave, heroic, calm. He reached out for you even though the two men who stood on either side of him stopped him from doing so, he still tried. 

“You’re okay, just do what he says, I’m right here, you’re okay.” Never did you ever think you’d find yourself in this situation. Being held at gunpoint in your place of work. Statistically it was bound to happen, you just never thought it would happen to you. Little old you in North Island. A town full of Naval men and women. “Go, I’ll be fine.” 

“Quicker we get this over with the quicker we’re outta here sugar.” The man still holding the gun reminded you as you walked with him towards the back of the Hard Deck. Penny had a small office you would use to do ordering in. In that small office she kept the taking for the week before she would bank them. 

Monday nights were usually bank nights. Which meant there was not left except for a double hundred dollars you’d only just cashed out. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked nervously as you made your way into the office with the barrel of a gun pressed into the small of your back. There was a rather rugged hand guiding you on your shoulders, pushing you along. “There’s a million and one places you could have gone, why here?” 

“My buddy Harrison got tossed outta here not long ago by the bitch who owns the joint.” It was all the explanation you really needed. “Call it cosmic karma—“ You made your way over to where the safe was and pointed it out before you turned back to face your captor. 

“There, again I don’t know the combination—but if you and your buddies can carry it I’ll let you walk out with it.” 

“Oh will you.” The man snarled as he closed in on you. “You’ll just let me walk out with it will you?” He had you up against the wall in seconds—the gun pressed into your jaw. “Why do the real pretty ones have to have such big fucking mouth.” 

“POLICE!” It couldn’t have come soon enough. “POLICE GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!” You could hear the yelling coming from out front as you smirked wildly. There had been a panic button under the bar, the second you saw the gun? You’d hit it without hesitation. 

“What are the odds you can carry that thing alo—“ Warm. That’s how you’d described it. The feeling of the bullet entering your stomach at point blank range felt warm as much as it felt as cold as ice. “Oh.” 

“What are the odds you make it out of here alive?” The man who’d just shot you snickered before he stood back and watched you slide down the wall. Your hand was oozing crimson red as you tried to hold a firm pressure against the wound you’d sustained. But your mind was fogging with every passing second. 

He ran. The man who’d just shot you and left you to die ran as fast as he could out the back door. You saw a police officer run after him in a blur. But time was moving as quickly as it was standing still. 

“Y/n?” Bob's voice barreled down the hall as he came racing through to find you. “Y/n?” He knew you would have been back here somewhere. He’d heard a shot ring out, a single gut wrenching gun shot that had him on edge. “Oh my god—“ 

“I’m sorry.” Was all you could muster up as you bled through your work shirt. “I’m so sorry—“ 

“I—I need a medic!” Bob shouted over his shoulder before he was coming to your aid. He placed his hand over your and pressed a little firmer. “Hey, hey, you’re gonna be alright.” 

“What are the odds of that exactly?” You chuckled softly, Bob didn’t miss the way a little blood painted your bottom lip and the place’s between your teeth. “Bob?” 

“High as all hell you hear me?” Bob replied as he pressed his lips to your forehead. “Y/n baby, do you hear me?” 

“I’m just gonna—“ Bob could see your neck struggling to keep your head upright. “Need to rest my eyes for a minute.” 

“No, no, no, no—you stay here with me.” Bob pleaded as your blood stained his hands. “We still have to finish cutting the lemons.” He tried to make you smile again. “I’ve still gotta show you just how good of a bar hand I can be.” 

“Show me tomorrow?” You felt the cold first, everything was numb before you even knew what hit you. Bob could tell too. He could see the light behind your eyes fading. He knew you were leaving, so Bob pressed his lips against yours gently just one more time. For the last time. 

“Tomorrow, and all the other days after, Miss Simpson.” Bob hoped you’d have enough strength to tell him just one more time. 

“It’s Y/n.” You did, without hesitation. “Please Bob—“

“What are the odds you tell me you love me?” Bob asked as he wiped your tears away with the hand that wasn’t holding yours against your stomach. Trying his best to stop you from bleeding. “Y/n?” But it was too late. 

Your eyes were trained on him but you were already gone. But as Bob cried he whispered it to you for the first and last time. He couldn’t let you go without you knowing. 

“I love you so very much.”  ***~***~****~***~****~****~***~***~***~***~***~

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[ohtobeleah]

Bleed For This // Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: It’s not Maverick that goes down in the Snowy Mountains, but you & Bradley Bradshaw. And someone doesn’t make it back.

Warnings: Character Death. F-18 crash. Bradley Bradshaw x best friend!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Author Note: Day Fourteen of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Bleeding through the bandage. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

It wasn't supposed to end like this, with you standing over the freshly laid dirt that covered your best friend's coffin. It wasn't supposed to end like this, the two of you. Your entire life you had been told over and over that you and Bradley Bradshaw were meant for each other. That the two of you were two peas in a pod, the light of each other's lives, the solace in each other's discomforts. Each other’s person. 

But yet here you were–standing over his freshly laid grave sight right next to the man who he strived every damn day to be every bit like. Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw and the woman whose heart was just as big as Bradleys, Carole Bradshaw. Bradley had always wanted to be every bit like his dad:

Now he was. 

“I should probably get you home.” It was Jake's hand on the small of your back that drew you out of your own little make believe world, where Bradley was still alive and you couldn't feel his blood on your hands. “Come on Kerner, let's get you home.” 

“Yeah–” You sighed in complete and utter defeat, it felt all too surreal to leave your best friend behind six feet under. “Do you think he's cold?”  You asked softly as Jake led you away from Bradleys fresh grave sight. The two of you were the last to leave as grey storm clouds loomed overhead just waiting for the perfect moment to pour down. “He shouldn’t have come for me Jake, if he had just gone back to the carrier, he’d be alive.” You still had your arm in a sling, your collarbone had been busted in your ejection. Your arm had been burned to pieces. “I should have brought him a blanket, it’s gonna be so cold tonight.” 

Jake couldn't begin to understand what it was like to lose someone you grew up with the way you and Bradley Bradshaw had. The two of you were the stuff of legend, the Nepotism duo, the lovers who were too blind, too stubborn, too focused on your careers to realise forever was standing right there. 

“I think he’s happy to be with his parents again.” Jake replied as he walked with you slowly, arm slung over your shoulder. He felt it was his duty to keep an eye on you. Your dad had asked that of him and who was Jake to deny the wishes of Commander Kerner. “You know Rooster, he groomed that stupid moustache every morning just to be a little like his dad.” That made you laugh, for all the times you teased Bradley for his moustache, you never did mean it. 

You were really going to miss that stupid moustache. Hell, you were really going to miss Rooster. You'd never stopped to think about a life without him earth side, and now you were living in it. 

In a world without Bradley Bradshaw. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Two Weeks Prior:

Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. But from what you had tasted of desire you held with those who favour fire. But if you had to perish twice, you knew enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice.

The icy snow made your body shiver and shake. It stung like nothing you had ever experienced before. It made your entire body rigid, like tiny pins and needles were jabbing into every little part of you. But then there was a warmth completely unparalleled to the burn of the snow that you laid face first in. It was a burn so deep that it took your breath away as you pushed yourself up to your knees. 

“Oh, oh fuck.” You hissed as your vision took a second to kick in. Amongst the blanket of china white snow that rivalled that of pure cut heroin, there were burning pieces of fuselage that flickered orange and red embers of fire every which way the wind chose to take them. 

Then it hit you, you’d been hit by a surface to air missile after trying to save your best friend. Rooster didn't have enough time on his side nor the flares to back up his manoeuvres. So without thinking, without a second of hesitation, you covered him and ended up taking the hit. You’d die for him any day of the week. 

“Shit–” Everything hurt as you took off your flight helmet. Your arm was completely burnt to the point your flight suit had melted right into your skin. You didn't know if it had been a flare or a part of your F-18 that was the culprit. But regardless of what had caused the burn, it fucking hurt. 

As you looked around the snowy forest you never imagined that you’d see what you saw next. You thought for sure you were a goner when you’d been hit, that no one would come for you. No one would turn back for you, look for your fighter jet wreckage, look for you. 

“Oh god no—“ You saw him flying across the open field, Rooster, your beloved Bradley, your best friend. He was looking for you. “No no no no no.” And in doing so had a S.A.M right on his tail. “Rooster no—“ And he was hit and hit hard all because he came back for you. 

Your lungs felt like they were on fire as you ran towards where you’d see Bradley pull his chute. Your legs wanted to give in as your muscles threatened to tear right off the bone. Every step, every pain filled stride you took your heart threatened to explode inside your chest. But you wouldn’t stop running, not until you got to Rooster. 

“Bradley!” You shouted when you saw him lying in a debris field of his own F-18, completely blown to smithereens. “Oh no, no no no no Rooster!” You had never run so fast and so hard and with such desperation before. It didn’t matter how much you hurt, you needed to get to your best friend, the love of your life. 

Who the fuck chose the both of you for this mission? Why the fuck did it have to be you? Be him? 

“Roo?” You cooed as you dropped to your knees beside him, the blood was oozing through his flight suit. He’d been hit pretty bad, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out just how bad this really was. “Oh god Rooster why?” 

Bradley was looking at you with all the love in the world, those baby cow eyes, so deep and brown and full of tears, looked at you like you were the light of his life. Because you were. You really really were. 

“Drifter—“ It was a play on your fathers callsign. Slider. It made sense, Goose and Rooster, Slider and Drifter. “Hi, hey—you’re okay?” The utter relief in Rooster's voice was evident the seconds his eyes scanned you up and down. “I’m so glad you’re alright.” 

“Hey.” You cooed as you let a shaky hand push the sweaty blonde locks away from Roosters forehead. “What are you doing down here Roo? You should be back on the carrier by now.” There was a pregnant pause between your question and Bradley’s answer as you watched blood pool at his lips. He was bleeding out and bleeding fast. 

“I had to make sure you were okay.” He admitted as you tried to make a makeshift bandage with the leg of your flight suit. Ripping the material clean off your own body. “I couldn’t—“ The cough was bloody and deep and it made your heart sink, but you knew you could save him. You could save Rooster if you tried hard enough. If you committed every ounce of your life to it. “I couldn’t leave you behind.” 

“Well you’re an idiot alright, you shouldn’t have come for me.” You sighed as you worked with what you had. “I’m sorry, this might hurt but I have to try and stop the bleeding alright.” 

“AAAHHH!” Rooster couldn’t hold in his screams as you pressed your hands into his stomach. The blood seeped straight through the makeshift bandage right between your fingers. “Fuck!! It hurts!” 

“Shhh, shhh it’s alright, I’ve got you.” You tried to soothe Bradley as you felt your tears welling in your eyes. “You’re fine, you’re fine, Rooster, I'm here.” Panic, pure panic was rising in your veins as adrenaline kept you from processing the fact your best friend was lying in the snowy field before you bleeding out through the bandages you had made. “You’re going to be okay, I just need you to focus and stay with me alright? You can do that for me can’t you Roo?” 

Bradley didn’t answer you as you applied previously against his wounds. You didn’t give up though, not for a second. 

“Bradshaw, I asked you a fucking question!” 

“I’ve been in love—“ It was a staggered confession as blood trickled out of Rooster mouth. Bloodstained teeth had never looked so good on a person. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, Kerner.” Bradley’s eyes never left you as he spoke. He couldn’t feel anything but the cold kiss of death. He saw the reaper over your shoulder coming for him. “You’re my best friend, I just—needed you to—to know that.” 

“No.” You refused to believe this was happening as you watched Bradley’s blood seep between your fingers, staining your skin to the point where you knew no matter how much you tried to scrub them clean they wouldn’t ever be clean. “No, stop talking! You’re fine Rooster, please don’t leave me here.”

“I’ve always wanted to love you.” He kept speaking though, through the pain and the tears and the blood, Rooster kept telling you his deepest secrets. His biggest regret would always be not telling you sooner. His biggest regret would be never getting off his perch. “You’re gonna be alright—“

“For fuck sake Rooster you aren’t dying!” It was pure denial as you tried to stop him bleeding. You knew if you could get the bleeding to stop then you could save your best friend. “You can’t die, I don’t know how to live without you, you’re my person, so please, for the love of god just shut up and focus on staying alive.” 

Rooster didn’t speak for a few minutes, all he did was breathe and try to keep his eyes open. He focused on you and your profile, how beautiful you truly were—even in a situation like this. He thought about what it would be like to marry you, watch you grow old like he had since he was three, what it would be like to spend the rest of his life with you. He hoped that whoever did get to be your person next would be able to handle you and all your fire. That they never tried to smother it. He hoped that they would at the very least, add some fuel to the fire that burned in your soul. He hoped that they’d take care of you and love you and let you know how much you bring to this life. 

“Kiss me.” Bradley whispered just above something audible. “Kiss me, please Kerner.” 

“Rooster?” It was at that moment you knew he was going. His face was all clammy and he was oh so cold to the touch. 

“Please kiss me so I can go.” He begged you softly as he placed his hand on top of where your hands were covered in his blood over his stomach. “My dads here.” 

“Well tell Goose you aren’t ready!” The tears that left your body were grief stricken. It was like nothing you had ever felt before. To mourn someone you loved so deeply, so fiercely and so much that to imagine a life without them it took a piece of you with them. “Tell him you can’t go because I need you here.” You cried as you leaned over to press your forehead to Bradley’s. “You don’t get to die, tell whoever’s here for you to fuck off—you’re not dying.” 

“Just kiss me.” Was all Bradley cooed before you leaned in to press your lips against his. It wasn’t the first time, but it would be the last. He was oh so pale and cold as the ice he laid bleeding out on. You felt his blood on your lips and god you’d never forget that feeling. Whatever had struck him had completely decimated his stomach. No amount of bandages could save him. 

You never stood a chance they would later tell you. No amount of first aid could have saved Bradley Bradshaw. 

“I love you, I love you.” It was like a mantra, Rooster kept saying it over and over until you heard him stop. That’s how you knew he was gone. Because the silence was far too loud and far too heartbreaking and the sound of his I love yous would haunt you forever. 

“Damn you Bradshaw, I love you too.” You cried as you laid beside him, curled up against his body for what felt like eternity. When help arrived you refused to leave his side. And you didn’t until someone had you sedated on the carrier—

“I'm so sorry.” Jake sat in the medical bay watching over you as you slept. “I'm so sorry Kerner.” He spoke to himself as he thought about all the times Bradley had told him in drunken bar conversations how much he loved you, his best friend. “But he did what he did to make sure you got out, that you would be alright.” 

“He left me.” You mumbled just loud enough for Jake to hear. He didn’t know you were awake. You weren’t supposed to be, or so he thought. “He told me he loved me, and then he died.” You would have cried if you weren’t so dehydrated. “I lost my person. How do I recover from that?” 

Jake didn’t know what to tell you, so he didn’t speak. He simply held back his own tears and kissed your forehead. 

“I don’t know Drifter, I really don’t know.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Present 

“We’re gonna head out for a drink, just you and me.” Jake explained as he pulled you in under his arm a little more. The two of you were both dressed in your formal wear. It wasn't exactly the attire for casual drinking. 

“Oh, I can't Hangman.” You denied the proposal almost immediately. “I have to head home and sort out a bunch of Roosters belongings.” Jake understood, but he also knew you needed a friend before anything else right now. And what kind of friend would Jake Seresin be if he let the love of Bradley Bradshaw's life drown in her own inner turmoil?

“Yeah, but before you go do that, I think you need to whine about it some more to me first.” Jake knew that the last thing you wanted to do was to have to pack away your best friend's belongings knowing he’d never need them again. He guessed it was the downfall of sharing an apartment off base with the guy. “I'd be pretty pissed off too if Bradshaw left his crap lying around and I had to clean up after him, so, you definitely need a drink or two.” 

You didn't reply straight away as you walked through the cemetery that now held three Bradshaws. But when you did, Jake's heart sank just a little more inside his chest for you. 

“What are you afraid of?” You asked softly as you stopped and turned to face the man who hadnt left your side since you were brought back to the carrier. Completely distraught and shell shocked. “That I’m gonna–” Before you could even finish your sentence Jake interrupted. 

“I'm afraid that you’re gonna keep crawling into my bed after busting into my apartment in the middle of the night.” That much was true, you had done that a handful of times. But to be fair, Jake never locked his door. He really needed to start doing that. “Look, Rooster left his Bronco to me.” Jake sighed as he looked up at the sky, watching as rain threatened to fall. “But he also left me you too.” He explained with a solemn smile. “It's just us now and I don't know, if you need someone to bitch to or just be–” It was your turn to interrupt.

“My person.” 

“I don't know what you mean?” Jake sighed as he looked back over his shoulder up to where Bradley's grave lay. He swore he could see him, watching Jake as he tried his best to comfort the love Bradley left behind. The love he hoped Jake would cherish as much as he did. 

“But you do.” You smiled softly before you pulled Jake in for a hug. You'd never see your best friend again in the land of the living, but you had a person in Jake Seresin. And he was determined to keep his promise to your dad, to watch over you always. He was going to be your person no matter what. 

“I've got you Kerner.” Jake rubbed his hand up and down your back to soothe your cries. He could feel you crying in his arms. You'd been through a lot, lost a lot too. But you weren't about to lose Jake. 

Not now, not ever. “I've got you.” 

***~****~***~***~***~***~***

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw whump #tw: character death #rooster top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw

[ohtobeleah]

Thank You to @ailesswhumptober for providing us with this amazing prompt list for Whumptober this year.

-> Rules & Information below ⬇️

Strictly 18+ There will be heavy themes associated with this whumptober. Please remember to curate your own experience by following the trigger warnings associated and allocated to all blurbs.

The author will not be posting or accepting requests for any other ongoing project during the month of September so that all spare time can be allocated in preparation for whumptober.

All work associated with Whumptober contains mature themes that may be triggering to some.

Masterlist will be updated accordingly as blurbs / One-shots are written and edited.

To be tagged in any work associated with Whumptober please ask in the comments below, only on the Masterlist. Requests on daily postings will not be looked at.

All associated media related for Whumptober will be tagged with #AIlessWhumptober2023

Day One: [Poison Ivy] // Robert Floyd:

-> Bobs got the hots for the admirals assistant. Bad. So bad it makes him feral. But what happens when he gets the dosage wrong and messes the whole thing up.

Day Two: [Dream A Little, Dream Of Me] // Bradley Bradshaw:

-> How are you supposed to sleep when all you see when you close your eyes is your dead and soaking wet husband?

Day Three: [Sixth Sense] // Mickey Garcia:

-> A freak accident occurs at the Hard Deck and Fanboy is faced with the challenge of being left to care for you, his not so official girlfriend.

Day Four: [My Brothers Keeper] // Jake Seresin:

-> Five seconds faster and Jake Seresin wouldn’t be standing in his bedroom telling the love of his life the biggest lie he’d ever told.

Day Five: [Odds Are?] Robert Floyd:

-> A quiet night at the Hard Deck doesn’t stay that way when two men hold you at gunpoint for the combination to the safe.

Day Six: [Mind Over Matter] // Bradley Bradshaw

-> Your mind is not your own when you’re exposed to a kind of ‘Sex Pollen’ your date spiked your drink with. But the worst part of it all is that Rooster takes advantage of your willingness to give your body to him.

Day Seven: [Gift Of The Gab] // Bradley Bradshaw

-> Throat Cancer. It’s never the way Rooster thought he’d go out. But when he does—he gets to give Jake a piece of his mind.

Day Eight: [Panic Room] // Jake Seresin

-> Between his ex, bird strikes and suicidal mission parameters it’s hard to keep a lid on things. So when you help Jake through a panic attack in the locker room, you become his lifelong lifeline.

Day Nine: [Battle Scars] // Bob Floyd

-> Robert Floyd doesn’t take his shirt off at the beach. But when the shirt stays on during sex? You start to wonder what he’s hiding.

Day Ten: [The Eternal Mark] // Jake Seresin

-> When at the Abbott Ranch for thanksgiving, the sound and sight of a cattle prod has you feeling like you’d been thrown back in time into the arms of the man who swore blind he was going to kill you.

Day Eleven: [Dark Red] // Jake Seresin

-> Jake Seresin is usually pretty cool, carm and cock sure of himself. But when his wife has an accident? He hits the deck pretty hard.

Day twelve: [Self-Flagellation] // Tom Kazanksy

-> After the death of Goose Bradshaw rocks the TopGun class. Iceman struggles with the ideology that his death could have been prevented if he wasn’t sure sure of himself.

Day Thirteen: [Damn You Seresin] // Jake Seresin

-> After a near fatal car accident sends Jake into a coma, you come to terms with the fact that saying goodbye was always going to be tough. No matter the situation.

Day Fourteen: [Bleed For This] // Bradley Bradshaw

-> It’s not Maverick that goes down in Snowy Mountains, but you. And someone doesn’t make it back.

Day Fifteen: [One Hit Wonder] // Bob Floyd

-> Robert Floyd was a pacifist, he didn’t enjoy confrontation or anything that resembled an argument. He preferred to use logical responses and persuasive reasoning to identify situations that might not work well in his favour otherwise.

Day Sixteen: [Trade Places] // Jake Seresin

-> It was supposed to be Hangman. And if you could go back in time? You’d let it be him. Without a shadow of a doubt.

Day Seventeen: [My Future & Past Javy Machado

-> You left Javy at the altar three years ago. In that time he put him back together again and moved on. But what happens when you show up in North Island looking to apologise for your actions.

Day Eighteen: [Lessons in Love & War] Bradley Bradshaw

-> On one of your first shifts back at work after the events of ToE. Odette is plagued with an illness that sends her to the emergency room with a very panicked Bradley Bradshaw.

Day Nineteen: [Never Good Enough] Mickey Garcia

-> People always leave Fanboy. He goes through pilots like chump change. Is it him? Is he the problem? What happens when one of the many times you’ve tried to console your husband when his demons become to brutal?

Day Twenty: [The Secrets We Keep] // Jake Seresin

-> A Father, Son & The Holy Shit Blurb. You and Jake argue over the practicality of your entanglement. Suddenly you feel like you have nowhere to run, or hide.

Day Twenty One: [Goodbye, Goodbye] // Jake Seresin

-> Jake & Amilia have been trying for a year, when they do fall pregnant it leads to a much bigger discovery and an even bigger heart heartbreak.

Day Twenty Two: [Before You & After You] Mickey Garcia:

-> Fanboys got a crush on the knew Hard Deck Barkeep. But when he’s still getting over the traumatic loss of his wife, crushes and new beginnings aren’t always so ease. (A Jekyll & Hyde backstory)

Day Twenty Three: [Sun & Moon] // Jake Seresin & Bradley Bradshaw:

-> Jakes got a secret he’s keeping close to his chest almost as close as he’s keeping you. Bradley comes face to face with a demand he can’t comprehend, but he doesn’t have a choice.

Day Twenty Four: Flight Deck Prologue

-> In an attempt to prevent Bob from running for the hills believing you’re a murderer. You sit him down to discuss your past.

~ Complete ~

#Leahs whumptober #Leahs whumptober Masterlist #AIlessWhumptober2023

[ohtobeleah]

Lessons in Love & War // Bradley Bradshaw

-> A Terms of Endearment Blurb

Summary: On one of your first shifts back at work after the events of ToE. Odette is plagued with an illness that sends her to the emergency room with a very panicked Bradley Bradshaw.

Warnings: Fever. appendicitis. Relationship miscommunication, misguided anger. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Jake Seresin x F!platonic!reader.

Word Count: 3.8k

Author Note: Day Eighteen of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Fever/Separated from loved ones. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Those were your days off. Tuesday and Thursday were the days that you bravely stepped outside your little bubble of peace and went back to work doing what you loved. No one in their right mind was about to stop you either, you could handle two full days at a time. Two days in one week was enough for you right now. Mav was in full support of you and Rooster sharing your full time hours. He went in to bat for you whenever the topic was brought up to the higher ups. He was your unofficial proxy. 

“Oh hi there Dotty girl.” You weren’t ready to send your little girl back to daycare yet either. So Odette spent her days with her favourite person besides you, her Tooster, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. “What's got you all sad?”

Bradley had been doing some work on his lap–he was reading up on the signs, symptoms and possible characteristics of depression. You were just a little off at the moment, with good reason. You'd been through so much–more than anyone ever deserved to be put through.

“My tummy huwts Tooster–” Odette mumbled through tired eyes as she padded into the dinning room with her blanky, sucking her thumb. She had been feeling under the weather for a few days now, since Monday–It was now Thursday and she hadn’t started to get better in the slightest bit.  

“Oh sweet girl, come here.” Bradley cooed as he reached out for the little girl who had stolen his heart, he scooped her up under her armpits and sat her on his lap. The first thing Bradley noticed was the heat Odette had to her. “Holy crap, you're burning up baby girl.” He frowned as he placed the back of his hand to her forehead. “You've got a bit of a fever there.” It was worrying, especially since Odette had already had some children Tylenol not long before you left for work. How long had she had a fever for? 

“My tummy huwts–” She nearly sobbed as her little head lulled to the side, she placed her cheek against Rooter's chest to listen to his heartbeat. The kiss he planted on the top of her head as he rocked his knees back and forth to soothe your daughter told Odette that she was safe, that her Tooster would make her feel better. “Tooster–”

“I know baby, I know.” But the fact of the matter was Bradley didn't know. Sure he’d lay his life down on the line for Odette, but he really had no idea how to act when she was sick. It broke his heart to see the usually so energetic and full of life extension of you so down in the dumps and sick as a dog. She hadnt been her usual self for a few days and it was unnerving to say the very least. He did his best however, to keep a confident front up that he had this covered while you were gone. 

Bradley Bradshaw was confident and wise enough to take care of a sick three year old. How serious could a flu be? Or a tummy bug as you were pretty sure it was. 

“How about I make you some soup and we watch cartoons and hang out on the lounge for the rest of the day?” All Odette did in response was nod very tiredly. She hadn’t been sleeping through the night and the little sleep she was getting, was in between you and Rooster, where she felt safest and where you felt like she belonged right now. 

Odette didnt eat her soup, Bradley had tried to get her to have a few spoonfuls of the pureed pumpkin and sweet potato soup he’d heated over the stove but it was to no avail. Your little girl was not having a bar of it before the tears started. 

“Oh sweetheart, don't cry.” Bradley cooed as Odette snuggled as close as she could into her Tooster. 

“My Tummy huwts Tooster make it stowp.” Dot mumbled into Rooster's shirt, clinging to him for dear life as she climbed his torso and laid herself flat as she could on him. All Bradley did was try his best to soothe the clearly uncomfortable three year old he’d been left in charge of today. 

“How about we get you some more medicine to make you feel a little better?” It was the only thing he could really think of in the moment, Dot hadn’t been well sure, but this was a whole new level of unwell. “We’ll get a washcloth for your forehead too baby, that might help.” Bradley was starting to realise that he may or may not have been in over his head with this. He hadn’t gone through this before, he hadn’t ever had to worry so deeply about a child not being well before. He wanted so desperately to take Odette's pain away. He wanted so desperately to make her feel all better like you somehow always managed too. But this seemed more serious than just a cold or flu or random stomach ache. 

And when little three year old Odette Dolan (Bradshaw) started to scream, cry and throw up in the bath Bradley tried to run for her to help her feel better, he didn't know what to do. He knew it wasn't just her being scared of the bath, because she’d been really good in it as of late. The past few weeks she’d gone without a fuss so long as Tooster and you were in it with her. But right now, as Bradley rubbed small circles into her little back and watched as she dry heaved into the bow he held under her chin, he knew he had to take her to people who could actually make her feel better. 

“I think we need to take you to the hospital baby girl.” He sighed to himself, watching as her tears streamed down her puffy face. She hadnt eaten all day, hadnt cried this hard ever. She was in pain–Bradley could clearly see that. “Let's get you dressed and I'm gonna take you alright, see some doctors so that they can help.” Before Bradley could think about helping Odette out of the bath, she slumped into his hold, completely exhausted from crying and trying to throw up. Her fever had yet to break and she was burning up. “Okay, Okay–” That's when the panic really set in. “We’re going right now baby I've got you.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“You know I’d ask what exactly it is that you’re doing—“ Jake made sure to make himself known as he entered your hanger. “But I’ve come to learn overtime that that question doesn’t always have such a good answer.” He didn’t want to scare you, he knew that coming back to work was what you needed in order to move on, get back into a normal routine and make an effort to keep yourself from completely falling apart. The day had almost passed you by and you’d only caught yourself thinking about Jaidyn Dolan like….seven hundred times. 

“I tried to call Roo at lunch to see how things are going at home but he hasn’t returned my call.” You replied while you sat at your workshop desk, working on a part Jake couldn’t quite pick. “Tell me everything’s fine, that we’re okay?” He knew what you meant, you didn’t need to elaborate or explain yourself. Jake knew, hell he knew because that very morning he’d woken Amilia up with his horrendous screams. He’d called out for Bob in the void of darkness. 

“Dots sick isn’t she?” Jake sighed as he stood behind you, watching carefully as you worked. He didn’t want to point out that you were tapping your leg up and down like a mad woman or mention that you were tensing your shoulders, so instead he bent over to kiss the top of your head and kept his hands firmly on your shoulders. “They’re fine Fe—if anything Bradshaws probably just spending his day off sleeping and watching Repunzel for the thirteenth time.” You couldn’t help but to smile at the thought. “Trust me, they’re good, we’re good, everyone’s good and accounted for.” 

“Thanks—“ It was like Jake had talked you down from some metaphorical ledge that you’d been standing on, ready to jump. Only you had been contemplating leaving work early to race home and make sure two of the most important people in your life are safe. “You’re right, he’s probably just sleeping with Dotty.” 

“I can almost guarantee it.” Jake replied. “Besides, you’re off soon enough, no need to stress when everything’s okay Fe.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Everything was not okay. Bradley Bradshaw had never been more freaked out in his entire life. He hated seeing Odette this way, so sick and visibly in pain. This had to be more than just a stomach ache, her fever hadn’t broken in hours, she wasn't keeping food or fluids down and she could barely keep her little head upright as he carried her into the emergency room of the Miramar Base Hospital. 

“Sir–?” The triage nurse was immediately on her feet when she saw Rooster through the little window. “Bring her right in.” Bradley did exactly that, he took the little girl who was burning up in his arms right into the triage room so that Odette could be assessed. “Who do we have here?” The nurse asked softly as she set up her station. 

“This is Odette, Uh–Dot, she prefers Dot.” Bradley cooed as he sat down on the empty chair with Odette still clinging to him. “She my daughter, well, kinda, I’m her mothers partner and I’m one of her medical proxies and emergency contacts.” Bradley felt like all eyes were on him as he explained his relationship to Odette. He wasn't her dad but he was the closest thing she had. “She's been sick for a few days, but today her fevers just skyrocketed and she's not keeping anything down.” 

“Is she throwing up?” The nurse asked as she placed little Odette's arm in a blood pressure monitor. “Any diarrhoea?” 

“She's been throwing up, but I haven't noticed any diarrhoea–” 

“And you said she's had a fever for a while?” 

“Yeah and today her stomachs been hurting pretty badly too.” The nurse could see the worry in Bradley Bradshaw's eyes. She knew enough in those few moments to know that he cared enough about this tiny human to bring her in for treatment. 

“Dot honey?” The nurse cooed as she looked at Odette and placed a tiny admission wristband on her wrist. “Can you point to what side your tummy’s been hurting on?” Odette, albeit slowly, pointed to her right side, just above her pelvis. The nurse sitting across from her immediately typed something onto the report she was writing up and turned back to face Bradley. “Okay Mr. Bradshaw, you can take Dot through to fast track, I'll have her admitted for an ultrasound but if I had to take a good guess here I'd say your little girl's appendix is acting up.” 

“That means surgery?” Bradley held the little girl who was everything to him a little tighter. The nurse nodded in confirmation. 

“You did the right thing bringing her in, we just need you to fill out these consent forms and we’ll take care of her.” The triage nurse could see on Odette file that Bradley was indeed an authorised person to give medical consent on Odette's behalf if you weren't able to. “But yes, she’ll need surgery if it is in fact her appendix, we don't want it to burst and by the looks of things if she's been sick for a few days it could very well be about to.” 

“Okay–” Bradley pressed his lips together in a fine line, he felt sick to his stomach, his little girl was in so much pain. “Okay, uh–let's go Dotty, I've got you baby.” But in all the fuss and worry and focus he’d forgotten one very vital thing. He’d forgotten to message you about what was going on, all his focus had been on Dot that he forgot to message you. Her Mother. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

You hadn’t heard from Bradley all day. Usually he’d send you little updates, let you know when Odette had gone for a nap, if she’d eaten, if she was at  daycare when he picked her up and dropped her off. But today he’d been radio silent since around ten this morning. 

“Roo honey?” You were already on edge with the radio silence, but when you pulled into the driveway to see Bradley’s Bronco wasn’t there your heart immediately sunk into your stomach. “I'm home, you here?” Nothing. There was nothing but a still silence that flooded your home as you went in search for the man who had helped you out yourself back together again. 

“Rooster?” You nearly sobbed out as you walked down the hallway to the bathroom, at the sight of water in the tub you immediately broke out into a heartbroken cry. No. No, not your baby, not your little girl. “Bradley!!?” It felt like you were right there, watching your ex try to drown you baby girl in the bath when your phone rang. 

It was like the ringtone snapped you back into reality and all of a sudden the scene playing out before you was gone. It was just you again, staring at yourself in the mirror across the bathroom. When you looked down at your phone to see that it was just Jake and not Bradley, you cried a little harder and answered. 

“Told you everything would be o—hey woah? What’s the matter Fe why are you crying?” Jake had just picked Amilia up from Paybacks play to drive her to work when your sobbed rang through the truck. “Y/n?” 

“Roosters not here and I can’t find Dot.” Was all you had to say before Jake was pulling over on the side of the road before swinging around. Amilia slammed against the doorframe of the passenger’s side as he did so. 

“Righto, ease up turbo.” She hissed as a frown overtook her face. “And you have the nerve to call me a maniac on the road.” 

“Talk to me when you know your left and rights Oz.” Jake chuckled knowing that Amilia from time to time still had to really think about what side of the road to drive on. “Fe, try to breathe alright, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for why they aren’t home.” 

“He hasn’t been answering his phone all day Jake! He doesn’t do that!” You sobbed painfully as you slid down the wall of your hallway to hug your knees to your chest. “He doesn’t—he doesn’t do that, he doesn’t—“ Jake knew you were having a full on panic attack, he knew because he got them too. Amilia heard it in your voice, the way you tried to breathe through your words. “He left—he took her, I can’t breathe—“ 

“I’ll call Rooster.” Amilia quickly pulled her phone out to call Bradley, his name in her phone was the Chicken Man. “There’s gotta be a good reason he’d just vanish with Dot right?” 

“She’s sick.” Jake mumbled just loud enough for Amilia to hear. “Something could have happened but until we get ahold of him I don’t know what to do.” 

“Voicemail—“ Amilia didn’t wait for Jake to tell her to try again, she was on it before he even had a chance to blink. “Fucking dammit Bradshaw.” 

“We’re around the corner Fe, we’re on our way, just stay on the phone with me yeah?” Jake cooed as tears welled in his eyes, he hated this, hated hearing you so panicked. 

“Fuck! Voicemail again.” Amilia groaned as she tried for a third time to get ahold of the missing lieutenant. “Surely he’s not intentionally ignoring us right?” 

“No—“ Jake sighed frustratedly as he ran a hand across his face. “No somethings wrong, he’s distracted by something, he wouldn’t just go radio silent, not on Fe, me maybe, but not Fe.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Tooster.” She looked so tiny in the middle of the gurney. “My tummy huwts.” But Bradley knew as he walked with the surgical tray who was about to take your little girl in for emergent surgery that she was going to feel a hell of a lot better after. 

“I know baby I know.” Rooster cooed as leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your daughter's forehead. “But the doctors here are gonna make you feel all better.” When Odette spoke soon after, Bradley’s heart sunk into his arse. 

“I want mamma—“ Holy shit, he’d been so caught up making sure Odette got the care and help she needed, that he hadn’t even checked in with you. 

“Mammas gonna be here when you come out of surgery baby, I promise.” Bradley could feel the colour draining from his face as he watched your little girl nod. “And so is uncle Jake—“ Bradley knew he was about to be in the dog house. He should have rung. He should have kept you in the loop. He couldn’t imagine what was going through your mind right about now. 

As soon as the double doors closed, Bradley immediately pulled his phone out of his back pocket and couldn’t believe what he saw. An unknown amount of missed calls and texts from one Amilia Fisher explaining in great detail the way she was going to skin him alive for whatever it is that was keeping him from getting back to her. 

There were a handful of missed calls and text from you throughout the day, just checking in to see how Dot was going. 

And then there was one very important text, a singular message from none other than Jake Seresin that scared the shit out of Bradley. The overall calmness of it all, the time he read it in, the lack of urgency made it all the more worrying—because when Jake got calm? Bradley knew he was about five seconds away from blowing up. 

H_ngm_n: “You better have running shoes on man.”

“Fuck—“ Braldey pressed on Jake’s called ID to ring him as quick as he could. This wasn’t good, not at all. It only took three rings before Jake was answering. “I can explain!” 

“Where are you?” Was all Jake asked, again as calm as ever. 

“I’m at the hospital, Dots fever was skyrocketing so I brought her in, turns out she has appendicitis, she’s on her way into surgery.” It was the most rushed explanation Bradley could give as he ran his free hand through his hair and paced up and down the hall. “Is Y/n okay? Is she alright?”

“We’ll be there soon.” Was all Jake said before he hung up. Bradley felt like he couldn’t breathe, he knew he’d fucked up. He should have called you when he was heading over to the hospital and think back to it he knew he had left the bath water in the bath too. 

He’d fucked up, and he knew that you’d be a wreck too. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

When you first saw Rooster sitting in the waiting room, your heart beat just a little faster. But although you loved him so deeply and so fiercely, his decision not to call you about what was going on had left you wondering if he understood just how important it was for you to know the whereabouts of your daughter right now. 

“Where is she?” You asked sternly. “Where’s my daughter?” Bradley could tell by the look in your eyes that you were pissed, but the love you had for Odette took priority. 

He sat in one of those plastic hospital waiting room chairs, dishevelled and worried that he’d crossed some invisible boundary. Bradley didn’t mean to keep you in the dark, it was never his intention. He was just so focused on Odette that he didn’t think of anything else. 

“She’s in surgery, they said someone would come give us an update as soon as she’s out.” Bradley explained as he stood from the chair he sat in and reached out to draw you into him. But you shrugged him off. “Y/n—“

“How am I the last person to find out my daughter has appendicitis?” You asked through a hiss. “Tell me Rooster how do you forget to tell the mother of the child you rushed to the emergency room that hey—we’re going to the hospital don’t freak out?” 

“I’m so unbelievably sorry.” Jake could tell that Bradley was sincere. “I was just so focused on Dot I didn’t stop to think, she was so upset, I just wanted her to be okay.” 

“Well she’s not alright is she!” It was just the fear talking, the fear taking over your critical thinking capabilities. “She’s in surgery getting her appendix removed and her mother wasn’t by her side to tell her everything would be alright because you—“ You shoved at Roosters chest, he didn’t budge. “Didn’t tell me what the hell was going on.” 

“Y/n, listen to me for a second alright sweetheart?” It was killing him, the idea that you were mad at him for doing whatever he could for Odette. 

“No—no don’t you dare sweetheart me right now Bradley, how could you not remember to ring me? Send me a fucking text?”

“Because I was looking after her! The little girl you left me to take care of! Her fever was getting out of control Fe!” It was one of the first fights the two of you had ever had. 

“She’s not your damn daughter Bradley!” You didn’t mean it, hell the words you spoke even shocked you and you could immediately tell that what you had said cut Bradley deep as his features softened In disappointment and frustration. “I’m her mother, and you should have called me when she was getting worse.” 

“Yeah—“ Bradley stiffened up as he looked over at Jake, he knew just how hurt you were by this mess but he never thought you’d throw Bradley’s ability to care for your little girl back in his face. “No yeah you’re totally right, I’m just gonna go, I’ll uh—I’ll just go back to my house and clean up the mess your daughter fucking makes all day because you’re too scared to send her back to daycare then.” 

It was your turn to be stunned. 

“Call me when she’s out, or don’t, I don’t care.” Bradley hissed as he walked past where you stood with his hands in his pockets and his tail between his legs. 

“I won’t!” You called back as you watched Bradley walk out of the front doors of the Miramar Base Hospital, wondering how the hell he was going to fix this god awful mess. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~****~

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #Bradley Bradley angst #topgun fanfic #top gun fan fiction #top gun fanfic

[ohtobeleah]

One Hit Wonder // Bob Floyd

Summary: Robert Floyd was a pacifist, he didn’t enjoy confrontation or anything that resembled an argument. He preferred to use logical responses and persuasive reasoning to identify situations that might not work well in his favour otherwise.

Warnings: Harassment. Mentions of pregnancy. Violence resulting in death. Bob Floyd x F!reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Author Note: Day Fifteen of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Self Defense. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Robert Floyd was a pacifist, he didn’t enjoy confrontation or anything that resembled an argument. He preferred to use logical responses and persuasive reasoning to identify situations that might not work well in his favour otherwise. 

He wasn’t the most popular kid in high school. Sure he had his buddies, the odd teacher who’d check in on him from time to time to see how he was doing and the occasional overzealous cheerleader who’d try to wear his glasses on a dare. But the ever looming threat that was the majority of the school football and lacrosse teams still managed to shine through all Bob's weak safety nets. 

Knowing he didn’t have the constitution, the strength or the ability to protect himself against six or seven football players at any given time, Bob used his critical thinking skills and offered free tutoring for anyone who promised not to beat him up behind the quad on his way out. 

It worked in high school and all throughout university, it never seemed to phase him all that much during the Naval Academy though because everyone was there for the same reason. Every person on base had a shared interest. It didn't matter what you were eventually going to do—everyone was there for one special goal. To pass basic. So, for a while—Robert Floyd got to let his guard down. He got to just enjoy existing instead of trying to safeguard his existence.

“Is there a reason that you’re staring at me?” Bob didn't realise he’d spaced out until your voice was pulling him back from a perfectly designed world where he, of all people, got the pretty girl standing just a few metres away from him minding her own business. You were standing across the kitchen of his buddies flat. He’d just moved in and Bob was spending the weekend catching up before he was being stationed out to lemoore. 

In Bob's mind you were beautiful. He’d never seen such a beautiful woman before. And he really didn't mean to stare, but your laugh was like a siren call, calling him over to fall in love over and over and over again with the beautiful woman standing across the kitchen. 

“Do I have something on my face or is my top just a little too revealing and you have a perfect shot at my chest?” You were only being sarcastic, but it wouldn’t surprise you if the man with baby blue eyes agreed with your statement. 

But he didn’t, which was even more surprising. 

“Oh no–” Bob's eyes widened at your accusation, he felt like he couldn't breathe as he took a step backwards in a non threatening manner. “I just thought you had really nice–” Before Bob could finish his sentence, you were jumping in to finish it. 

“Tits?” 

“Eyes–” Bob corrected you immediately. He didn’t want you believing he was some sort of pervert before he even had the chance to properly introduce himself. “I think you have really nice eyes.” You had to smile to yourself a little at the sight of the obviously flustered man who stood across the small kitchen from you. He seemed harmless enough. “I’m Bob—“

“Y/n—“ It’s how the two of you met, in that dingy little apartment in that kitchen that couldn’t have fit more than three people in it at any one time. But Bob knew that you were going to be his wife someday—he didn’t know exactly how he was going to pull that trigger or how in the world he was going to get you to fall in love with him, but he knew. 

And you weren’t sure what exactly it was, but the way Bob made you feel effortlessly beautiful and naturally loved had you dropping to your knees to cup his flushed cheeks when he nervously asked you to marry him right after he got back from a mission he swore could have been his last. 

“You and the little guy are all I need.” Bob whispered against your lips when you kissed him so passionately it nearly knocked him off balance. “I love you so much, just wanna be yours till my dying days.” 

“Robert Floyd, you are my best friend, I love you so so much!” 

The wedding was set to be a pretty simple ceremony in a registry office. You didn’t want the fuss that came with a full disclosure wedding. It was supposed to be just you and Bob and your witness. Everything would have been perfect, simple and efficient. 

But then your soon to be husband was given his new posting, and that saw you and Bob packing up your lives in Lemoore to settle in North Island, where a whole new can of worms opened for the two of you. 

“You’re getting married!?” You knew it was Phoenix, Bob always spoke so highly of her. “Holy Cannoli I hope you don’t plan on going swimming with that thing on.” She teased as she took you into a warm embrace. “You’ll sink to the bottom.” 

“I’d been saving since we met.” Bob interjected as Phoenix stepped back and took in the sight of you. “We’re expecting in January, little guys coming around Y/n’s birthday.” 

“Bob—“ Phoenix cooed as you reached out to place her hand on your stomach, Natasha Trace was the first of the dagger’s to formally be introduced to you. “You never said anything.” The bird strike hit all the more harder now. Phoenix knew she carried precious cargo but now the stakes were even higher. Bob had a fiancée and a baby boy on the way. “Why didn’t you tell us, tell me?” 

“I just wanted to protect what was most important to me.” Bob answered quickly. He always kept you close to his heart, always. “Y/n here, she’s my best friend, always has been since she swore I was being a creeper.” You had to chuckle at the memory of the night the two of you first met. “But you guys, Fanboy, Rooster, Packback, Coyote—even Hangman but don’t go saying that out loud, are my family now too—and I want my family to know who’s the most important person to me.” Bob paused for a moment but both you and Phoenix knew what he was about to say before he said it. “Just in case something happens to me, you guys are gonna be her family too.” 

“We’ve got her Bob.” Phoenix cooed as she brought you in for a gentle hug once more. “It’s so  nice to meet you.” 

You had to take a second to really sink in the moment. These were the people who swore every day to protect your fiancé. These were the people he truly considered family. These were his people and in turn they were yours. And it truly sunk in as a rowdy group of men burst through the Hard Deck front doors. These were Bob's people. 

“I’m so happy to meet the woman who keeps my best friend coming home every night.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Well well well–” It was the Texan tone that gave the cock sure aviator away as he came up beside you. “I gotta say, you sure look mighty fine this evening, Mrs Floyd.” Jake cooed as he stood beside you, watching as you ran a gentle hand across your growing baby bump. 

“Thanks Hangman.” You chuckled softly as you watched your soon to be husband over at the bar with Rooster and Fanboy. He looked so happy, so full of life and excitement. “I feel like a blimp but I appreciate the compliment.” It had only been about a month or so since you had settled into your new surroundings. You and Bob would have loved to have been married by now, but the Daggers had other ideas when you had dropped the bomb on them that you were going to do an elopement style ceremony at a registry office. No fuss, no extra expenses, just the two of you and all the love you could possibly give one another. 

But here you were, at your joint Bach party that Hangman and Rooster had every so kindly set up for the long weekend. How in the hell they had managed to get the entire dagger squad the weekend off was beyond you–but nevertheless you were thankful for the experience. Even if you were pregnant in Vegas with a bunch of Naval Aviators running a muck in the casino. 

“How’s the baby on board going?” Jake asked as he hooked his arm with yours and walked with you over to the bar. 

“He feels like some fries and a virgin mango magatia if you're really wondering.” You smirked as Jake pulled out his wallet from the pocket of his jeans. He should have seen that one coming. “

“Coming right up.” Jake made sure you were situated up on the stool beside your soon to be husband before he left you to fetch your food. Bob couldn't take his eyes off you whenever you were in his proximity. He couldn't breathe at the sight of you in that bodycon dress. The white one that screamed bride to be. But the sash slung across your shoulder did that too, as did his own. Only his said Groom and wasn't as pretty on him as it was on you. 

“Hangman getting you some food baby?” Bob cooed as he kissed your cheek. 

“Yep, and my feet are killing me.” You sighed as you leaned in to rest your head on Bob's shoulder. “But I'm so glad we’re doing this, getting this opportunity.” 

“They're good people aren't they?” Bob didn't drink, but he had been nursing a rum and coke for about half an hour now. The ice had mentled and watered it down, which made it easier for him to sip on. “Reckon spuds gonna like them?” 

“Yeah, they are.” You agreed kindly as you watched Rooster and Fanboy carry on over tequila shots. “They needed this more than us, this weekend–but they did it for us.” Bob nodded as he let his hand fall to your stomach. “And yeah–Spuds gonna love them, but not as much as he’s gonna love his dad.” 

“You know husband and father were two things I thought I'd never be.” Bob admitted to you quietly as he kissed your hair on top of your head as you sat with him up at the bar, surrounded by drunk idiots ready to waste their money. “So thankyou for giving me the chance to become both.” You simply answered by picking your head up off Bob's shoulder and kissing him softly. He was the life of your life, your best friend, your life partner and father of your child. “I love you, my bride to be.” 

Robert Floyd was a pacifist, he didn’t enjoy confrontation or anything that resembled an argument. He preferred to use logical responses and persuasive reasoning to identify situations that might not work well in his favour otherwise. So as you smiled up at him and brushed his hair behind his ear, Bob was very in tune with the man off to the left of the bar who had been watching you ever since Jake had helped you waddle over. 

“You’re such a dork, I love you.” Your voice echoed around in Bob’s head as the hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention. His guy was practically undressing you with his eyes. But once again, Bob Floyd was a pacifist. So until it became a problem to worry about? There was no problem to worry about. 

“I love you more.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“PAYBACK!” You sat at the blackjack table with wide eyes watching as the daggers cashed in their chips. “You can't be serious, that's all your money!” Bob's hand gripped at your thigh beside you, he wasn't paying with much but he had a few chips to play. 

“Yeah and I could double it, mama.” The term of endearment was something the entire squad used. You loved it, it made you feel all warm and fuzzy and accepted by your Fiance’s friends. “And if I double it I'm giving it to you and Bob for the honeymoon you two are insistent on not having.”  

“We’re gonna have a newborn man, it's not the time.” Bob sighed, he’d tried to explain it a few times before now that the timing of it all wasn't right. The two of you would save for a rainy day and once your son was a little bigger, the three of you would go on a family holiday. “Keep your money.” 

“Yeah, it's really not necessary Payback, honest.” You smiled as you got up from your seat at the black blackjack table. “I'm gonna go pee, I’ll be right back, Bob honey will you text me if you guys move?” Bob was going to ask if you wanted him to come with you, he would have asked, but he knew what the answer would be. You were fiercely independent, and even a quick trip to the bathroom alone made you feel like you could take on the world. Especially now with a whole human growing inside of you. So, Bob nodded and agreed, he didn't bother to ask. 

“Course love.” 

Bob watched as you waddled away, the love of his life, his best friend, the mother of his unborn child. You were his entire world and there wasn't a single thing on this planet he wouldn't do for you. 

“Are you excited man?” Payback asked as he counted his chips. “You're gonna be a dad, how wild is that?” 

“I'm nervous, that's for sure.” Bob sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. “But yeah–I’m excited, I'm really excited and I'm ready to be there for whatever those two ever need ever.” 

“She's one beautiful woman man i'll give you that.” Payback added. “You’re good for one another, you bring out the best in each other.” Bob knew all this already, The two of you had been together for five beautiful years. And in those five years there had been many men that had tried to take you away from him. But you always chose Bob and that gave him comfort and reassurance in his place by your side. It was your world after all and he was just happy to live in it. And as Bob caught the sight of the same man approaching you as you walked away from the blackjack table that had been lingering around you by the bar, he stood up to head after you. 

“She thought I was staring at her boobs the first night we met.” Bob added as he chuckled at the memory. It was his favourite, it was hard to beat the first time he ever laid eyes on his soon to be wife. 

“Were you?” Payback asked curiously as the dealer got ready to start the next game.” Staring at her tits?” Bob thought about it for a moment before he nodded. 

“Yeah, a little.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

These days it was getting harder and harder to waddle around by yourself, but you enjoyed the independence of it all. You hadn’t even made it to the bathrooms before a man was approaching you on your way. You tried to avoid his eye line but even when you averted his gaze he was still honed in on you. 

“I couldn't help but to notice the sash.” He paused at your side and turned on his heels, walking with you towards the bathroom. “Getting married?” 

“Well if you noticed the sash and could read basic english you'd know the answer to that question already, wouldn't you.” You grumbled as you waddled down the hall with a hand over your bump. 

“Very true, very true.” He replied, keeping in step with your stride. “I was wondering if I could buy you a drink? Non-alcoholic unless you’re into that kinda thing.” That's when you had to stop yourself from putting one foot in front of the other just to process what exactly was going on. 

“I'm sorry, but are you trying to hit on a pregnant woman who's clearly on her bachelorette party?” You laid it out as clear as day for the man who smirked at you, he was basically undressing you with his eyes. 

“What can I say, I have a thing for pregnant women.” 

“Well I can assure you, this pregnant woman is not interested.” You hissed as you began waddling to the nearby bathroom again. “I appreciate the flattery, really, but I'm happily engaged, committed and very satisfied as you can probably see the consequences of.”  

As you tried to walk away from the man who had been following you around the casino all night reached out to grab your arm. In shock you paused and turned to frown at him. 

“Listen you little bitch I was just being fucking nice.” He hissed through gritted teeth as he leaned into your personal space. “You dont get to talk to me like that, blow me off like I’m some fucking dork.” 

“She actually has a thing for dorks man so I can assure you she would be blowing you off if she thought you were one.” Thank god Bob had followed you because right now independence was the last thing you were in search of. “Let go of my wife.” It made your heart skip a beat at the mention of you being Bob's wife. It must have just slipped in the heat of the moment but the man did as he was told. 

“You're marrying him?” The man laughed obnoxiously in your face, it was clear he was intoxicated, you could smell it on his breath and see it swirling in his eyes. 

“She is.” Robert Floyd was a pacifist, he didn’t enjoy confrontation or anything that resembled an argument. He preferred to use logical responses and persuasive reasoning to identify situations that might not work well in his favour otherwise. “So how about you back off and I'll grab you a cup of coffee, you look like you need one man.” 

“Your wife here's really pretty.” He snickered to himself as he pushed your hair behind your ear. “I could cum in my pants just thinking about all the nasty things I'd wanna do with her.” As the man looked over at Bob, you took the opportunity to slap him straight across the face. The impact echoed in the hall and even Bob felt the sting. It was a solid slap, hard enough for him to let go of your arm so that you could walk away towards where Bob stood. “You fucking bitch!” 

“I'm okay.” You reassured him. “Let's just get out of here.” 

“I've got you.” Bob cooed as he checked you over quickly with panic filled eyes. “I'm here, I've got you.” They checked over every visible part of you before he pulled you into him for a hug so loving and protective, his chin grazed the top of your head as he eyed off the man who had been harassing you. “Come near my wife again and we’re gonna have problems man, I'm not kidding, stay away from her.” 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” It must have been the bruised ego, but there was a definite switch that had been flipped inside the mind of this man you didn't even know the name of. “You mother fucker!” Bob knew this was escalating far too quickly, he needed to get you out of the way. So he turned his back on the man who was running right at him with balled fists and anger written in the wrinkles on his face. 

Robert Floyd turned his back on the danger running right at him. He couldn't offer tutoring sessions or use critical thinking skills to alter the course of the next few moments, because all he could think about was making sure he protected you. His best friend, the mother of his child. 

“Bob!” You gasped as he shoved you just enough to get you out of the way. You didn't see when Bob turned sharply to get one good and solid right hook in against the man's cheek, but he did. He got one punch–his only punch ever thrown. But to defend his wife, in self defence, Bob would do just about anything. Bradley Bradshaw had been coming out of the bathroom himself when he saw the hit play out. It was like time slowed down entirely as Bob pushed you away as gently as he could to keep you from being attacked.

“I told you to stay away from her!” Bob shouted as the man stumbled back slightly off balance. “Next time I'm not gonna ask you again pal–” His knuckles were throbbing, but Bob expected that. He’d never throw a punch in self defence before. “Go get a drink of water before I call security.” In Bob's own way, it was his way of still seeing the very good in everybody, you admired him for that. But something didn't seem right as Bob turned around to head back towards you, shaking his hand and mouthing a soft ‘Ow” your way. 

Bob had defended his family and he didn't feel sorry about it for a second, if anything he had a hard on and just wanted to get back to the hotel so he could ravage you. But Bob's single hit had done nothing but anger the man further. It didn't do much to stop the man from slamming his fist as hard as he could into the back of Bob's head. 

“Fucking cunt!” The man shouted as Bob stumbled forward and smacked his head on the corner of the wall. You wouldn't hear anything over your own screams. You couldn't see anything past the tears in your eyes and you couldn't see the man running down the hall with security right on his tail. 

But you saw the blood, the thick crimson blood that had begun to leak out of Bob's head from the impact of the hit he’d sustained. Bile rose in your throat as you sank to your knees before him as he laid on his stomach, bleeding profusely from his head. 

“Oh no–” You didn't know what to do. “Bob honey.” 

“I love you.” It was struggled, but you heard him. “I love you, my wife, my child.” 

“Bob?’ You coraked out. “Baby open your eyes.” You begged Bob as he laid skill in a pool of his own blood. “Oh god Bob no!” Panic had begun to take over your body as you tried to wake up the father of your baby boy. “Bob, open your eyes! Please baby, you're okay.” Again you tried to shake him as hands came to touch your shoulder. 

“Holy crap, Y/n–” Rooster gasped as he tried to find a pulse. “SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!” He shouted at the people now surrounding the scene in the hall. You couldn't breathe, but you could feel Bob's blood on your hands as you wiped them against your dress. 

“Baby wake up, come on you're okay, I know you are–” People don't just die like this do they? One minute they're there and the next second they’re gone. This doesn't happen right? It couldn't happen to you? Could it? “Bob, I love you, you love me, if you love me you'll wake up, you have to! You can't leave me here, not like this baby this isn't how you leave.” 

“Holy fuck what the hell happened!” Jake asked as he raced over. He was the one who pulled you back as Bradley did as he could to see if he could find a pulse. He couldn't. “Y/n, Y/n, listen to me, are you hurt? Is that your blood?” Jake frantically searched over you to see if you were bleeding, but as it turned out, it was just Bob's blood. “Bradshaw what the hell happened!?”

“He was sucker punched.” Was all Rooster said. “I dont even know if he got a shot in first but that son of a bitch fucking hit him!” 

“He was just here.” You mumbled as you shook in Jake's arms, clearly in shock. “He was just here, he can't be gone, he's just hurt.” Jake held you in his arms as you cried out for Bob, the love of your life, the father of your child and your best friend. “He cant be gone, he was just being Bob.” Jake locked eyes with Bradley as he looked over his shoulder. He shook his head, Bob wasn't breathing. 

“You're gonna be okay–” You weren't stupid. You knew that Jake had said you and not Bob, because he couldn't say Bob. He couldn't give you that hope. “We’ve got you, we promised.” Robert Floyd was a pacifist, he didn’t enjoy confrontation or anything that resembled an argument. He preferred to use logical responses and persuasive reasoning to identify situations that might not work well in his favour otherwise. 

But in this case, he did just enough to keep his family safe. The family he’d never get to see grow old.  ***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

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[ohtobeleah]

Before You & After You // Mickey Garcia

-> A Jekyll & Hyde Official Prologue

Summary: Fanboys got a crush on the knew Hard Deck Barkeep. But when he’s still getting over the traumatic loss of his wife, crushes and new beginnings aren’t always so ease.

Warnings: Car Accident resulting in death. Family tragedy. Mickey Garcia x F!reader. Mickey Garcia x Original Character.

Word Count: 3.6k

Author Note: Day Twenty Two of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Greif. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

We cover up injuries with tape and gauze to protect the injury and prevent infection, to save ourselves from further suffering. The hard part though, that comes when you have to rip the bandage off. 

Because that? Well—that can hurt like hell. 

“So the word on the street is that Hyde has a crush on you.” People say that there are five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. For Mickey Garcia? He sat somewhere between anger and depression any given day of the week. “That’s gotta feel good.” But somewhere between the depression and acceptance, sat you. Hyde. 

Jake Seresin had known you for the better half of his life. He was the boy next door, the slightly older but far less mature brother who’d walk you home from the bus stop just to trip you over to see you face plant into the dirt at the same time. So when you had reached out to see if there was any work going in his corner of the world, he jumped at the opportunity to get you behind the bar of the Hard Deck. 

Penny had been looking for a new barkeep, and hell, you fit right in. 

“Hyde’s pretty—“ Was all Mickey replied with as he fed Logan, his eight month old, a bottle. “And nice, Hyde’s nice.” Was all Jake got out of the clearly distracted Weapons System Officer. 

“That’s all? Pretty and nice?” Jake stared down at the little boy who was clearly getting milk drunk faster than Jake was getting real drunk. “Dude—don’t you think—“ 

“Don’t start.” Mickey snapped harshly, it had been a day and a half and the last thing he needed was Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin pestering him about when he was gonna get back on the horse. “I said she’s nice, now drop it, Hangman.” 

Before Jake could say another word, he caught the sight of you sauntering over with a pep in your step and a smile plastered on your face. You brought the sun into any dreary situation, you lit up rooms with your smile and that infectious laugh that sounded like the gates of heaven had opened up truly brightened any person's mood that was blessed enough to hear it. 

“Can I get you flyboys anything else to drink while I collect empties?” You asked politely as you stood holding the empty round collection tray. “Another bottle for Logan Mick?” 

“Oh he should be good, thanks Hyde.” Mickey changed up his attitude real quick while you were around and Jake wasn’t one to not take notice. “But if you don’t mind I’ll grab another beer for Hangman and just a ginger beer for me thanks.” 

“Sure thing.” You hadn’t been in North Island for very long, but in the time you had been you’d come to develop a pretty sincere crush on the back seater with the black curls and the cute kid. “I’ll be right back.” 

Jake wasn’t gonna say anything as you walked away but Mickey beat him to it regardless. 

“She’s got nice eyes too.” He mumbled as he rocked Logan in his lap. “They’re beautiful, just like her smile.” Jake hadn’t ever heard Fanboy say anything along those lines about anyone ever. “She’s a good person—“ He added before he pressed his lips together in a fine line. “But I’m not ready to move on.” 

“I get it.” Jake sighed, he sympathised, truly he did. But Jake Seresin was always in favour of playing the devil’s advocate. “But if there’s anyone who’s going to understand it’s Hyde, she’s good people man, start slow and maybe you’ll surprise yourself.” 

“Slow for me is just saying that another woman is beautiful out loud.” Mickey mumbled as he looked down at a now sleeping Logan, every bit the image of the mother he’d never truly know. 

“Who’s beautiful?” You asked as he came back with Jake's beer and Mickey's ginger beer. “You got your eyes on someone, hey Fanboy?” It was an innocent dig but deep down you hoped that maybe, just maybe, he was talking about you. 

“Oh—no I was just—“ Mickey didn’t know what to say or how to play it off. All Jake could do was watch, he could have thrown a lifeline out to the poor man but the sight of Mickey Garcia fumbling the bag was just too perfect. “I was just saying that I uh—you’re—” He couldn’t get himself to say it, and all you could do was simply try to hide the smirk that wanted to creep itself across your face. “I think that someone’s waiting for you to take their order.” 

“Oh.” You tried to hide your disappointment but ultimately Jake could see right through your faked smile. “My bad, I'll get back to it then.” As you placed your hands in the back pockets of your jeans, Mickey watched with a painful twinge in his heart as you turned around and headed back towards the bar. 

“Smooth romeo, hella smooth.” He teased as Jake took a sip from his beer. He wasn’t trying to push anything, he just thought you’d be good for Fanboy. He needed someone to be friendly with, someone who wasn’t navy to hang out with. Someone to help him heal from the trauma he’d been through. 

Mickey though, he just took the opportunity to throw a single peanut Jake's way. He wasn’t ready to move on, he wasn’t sure if he ever would be. But as he watched you work and laugh with patrons who crowded the bar—he felt his heart flutter.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“I’m driving!” Sophie Garcia was the light of Mickey's life and for the last nine months, she’d been pregnant with their first born. “God please let me drive, I’ve been doing nothing but feeding our son for the past two weeks and I need to feel like something more than a dairy cow.” The college sweethearts couldn’t have been any more in love. 

“So a chauffeur is what you go for?” Mickey chuckled as he strapped little newborn Logan Reece Garcia into his car seat. “Honestly Soph, I don’t mind driving, but feel free if you wanna.” 

He should have driven. 

Mickey hadn’t even finished strapping their fresh out of the womb son in before Sophie was clipping her seatbelt in and turning on the engine of the BT-50 the pair had both gone in for earlier on in their marriage. Five years and going strong. “Alright, well that answers that, doesn’t it buddy.” Mickey cooed to his sleeping son before he made his way to the passenger seat, a seat he hadn’t been in since before Logan was born. “You remember how to drive?” 

He should have driven. 

“I gave birth, I didn't have brain surgery—“ Sophie laughed as she put the truck into gear and pulled out of the driveway, the two of them were going on their first family outing—to home depot for bubble wrap and boxes for the big move. “Yes I remember how to drive.” 

“Okay good, I was just checking.” Mickey strapped himself in and checked his phone, the Garcia family were set to move from Maine to San Diego in just under a week and still not a single person in Mickey's new squad knew he was a new dad. Not Bob or Payback, Coyote or Hangman, Rooster or Phoenix. No one. Not a single one knew about his wife or kid and not a single one knew he was married to the love of his life. His best friend. The human embodiment of true beauty. 

“When should we head around to your mums for dinner?” Mickey asked as Sophie drove the open road boarded by paddocks and empty fields. They lived right on the outskirts which meant farms and the quarry where local contractors got their materials from. Sophie never did like the quarry, it gave her the heebie jeebies every time she drove past, like it was calling to her. An unknown force pleading with her to come closer, to look over the edge. 

“Maybe just after six when Logan goes down for a—shit!” In the blink of an eye Sophie was overcorrecting the steering wheel, Mickey only caught a glimpse of the stray horse that had shot out onto the road right in front of their truck as his wife swerved but managed soon thereafter to regain control. It was unlike any horses Mickey had seen around the farms that boarded his little slice of paradise. After having grown up in an apartment in Brooklyn he wanted his family to know fresh air and grass. 

This horse was different though, it was gone in the blink of an eye. 

“Holy shit—“ Sophie sighed as she kept both hands on the steering wheel and felt her heart hammer into her chest. “That was close.”

“Too close.” Mickey added as he turned around to check on little baby Logan. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” 

“No no I’m okay.” Sophie was adamant about it, she wanted to contribute to the team. “It was just a freak occurrence, Amor.” As soon as Mickey turned around to face the road, Sophie’s eyes trailed from the road to her husband’s for five seconds, no more no less. “I love you.” She had control, she was totally in control of the car her family were driving in. Everything was totally fine. 

He should have driven. 

“I love you too—“ Mickey managed as he drank in the sight of his glowingly beautiful wife, the mother of his child. As his eyes trailed back to the road he saw it, the massive pothole that was just completely unavoidable. “Sophie!” Mickey gasped as she hit the hole head on and overturned on the steering as they ran off the road. The plastic water bottle that had been sitting stagnant in the centre console cup holders became dislodged when they slammed through the quarry fencing and rolled right under the breaks as Sophie tried to hit them. “Hit the breaks!” Mickey shouted as he held on for dear life as the quarry edge approached. Holy shit they were gonna go over. 

He should have driven. 

“I’m trying, I can't!” Sophie tried repeatedly as the truck approached the cliff face of the quarry ditch. “Oh my god oh my god!” As soon as Sophie was able to pull the handbrake in a last stitch effort to stop the truck her little family were in from careening over the edge of the quarry—the two front tires went over the edge as dirty scrapped along the bottom of the cab—stilling the vehicle on a near vertical tilt. 

Airbags designed to protect the occupants deployed and in the process, broke Mickey's nose. He wasn’t prepared for the sheer force of the deployment before it smacked him right in the face. 

“Oh god!” He groaned as he pushed the sea of deflated airbag down into his lap as the view before him came into clear sight. All he saw was the quarry as they teetered on the edge of the embankment. If the truck slid any further forward? They’d fall to their deaths. 

“Holy shit, we’re okay.” Logan had never cried so hard before in his two weeks earthside, the tiny little human in the backseat was just sleeping soundly before all this. Now he was up and hungry and crying out for his mum. “We’re okay—“

“Mickey.” Sophie could barely speak as her hands clutched the steering wheel, her own airbag sat deflated in her lap as fear all but consumed her very soul. “Oh my god.” The car rocked slightly as the wind rushed past and Sophie let out a whimper in fear. “Help—“

“Okay, alright—we’re okay.” Mickey was trying to think about how to get out of this mess without making the car move. They couldn’t stay like this, not trapped on the edge of a ledge that would surely give way. “Can you open your door?” Mickey asked through a shaking voice as he unclipped his seatbelt and opened his car door very, very carefully. He needed to check on Logan, needed to get him out of harm's way. But as he popped the door handle the car slid slightly forward. “Fuck.” He could taste blood but that didn’t matter, what mattered was his family. 

“Uh—“ Sophie shook her head as she tried to open her door. But it didn’t budge—the fencing post had jammed the aluminum framing in as they ran through the fence. “No, no I can’t open my door.” Logan wasn’t settling as his cries got louder and louder. “Mick, please you have to get Logan out of this truck, please—“ 

“Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise—just try and stay still alright.” Mickey was moving as carefully and as slowly as he could to get out of the truck. Once he was out, Sophie really began to cry as she covered her mouth with her hand and moved the deflated airbag to see her knees and thighs were cut up and jammed right up under the steering wheel column. 

She wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

“Hey—“ Mickey cooed as he slowly but surely opened the back door of the truck to unclip his son from his car seat. He was being as careful as he could be to not rock the truck. “Hey little guy you’re alright aren’t you buddy.” Logan was a mess, his little cheeks were red as red could be as his little lungs ignited with oxygen to fuel his cries. “I’ve got you, daddies got you, I’m here, you're alright.” 

“Is he okay?” Sophie cried as she tried to remain perfectly still, only moving her hand to slowly press the window button. “Miguel is Logan alright?” 

“He’s fine.” Mickey replied once he had the two week old out of his car seat and crying on his chest. “He’s fine, I’m gonna put him down by the tree and I’ll be right back okay.” Before Sophie could protest, Mickey was racing over towards the tree that wasn’t far away—he knew there was a rope in the back of the truck he could tie to tow bar off to if he couldn’t get Sophie out, that was plan B. Plan now was to get her out. 

“Shhhh I’ve got you.” Mickey tried to soothe his son as he placed him down on the ground as gently as he could. He took the jumper off he’d been wearing to make a little makeshift bed before he placed Logan in the comfort of his father’s scent. “You’re okay, I’ll be right back.” 

When Mickey returned he saw the full extent of his wife’s predicament and knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but they had to try.

“I’m never driving again.” Sophie tried to crack a joke but all Mickey did was try to open the door. It wouldn’t budge for love nor money. This was bad, very bad. 

“Okay, I need you to try and move your legs.” He could see how jammed up in the column they truly were but it was one of the only hopes left. Maybe if Sophie could get herself unstuck Mickey could pull her through the window or help her out the passenger side. “Come on Amor, you have to try.” 

“I can’t move them.” She sighed through a whimper as she tried to set herself free, the truck slipped a little further and Sophie froze in fear. She was looking death right in the eye now, it was a long way down to the bottom of the quarry. “Mickey—“

“I’m right here, I’m gonna get you out, I just need to buy us some time to figure out how.” He explained. “There’s a rope in the back, I’m gonna tie the truck off to the tree okay, I’ll be right back.” 

Sophie Garcia knew she wasn’t getting out of the truck the longer she stared out into the abyss that was the quarry threatening to consume her. She could hear her baby boy crying out for her but there was nothing she could do but accept reality, accept the hand she’d been dealt. All she hoped in that very moment was that her college sweetheart, her best friend and father of her very first and only child would find someone who could love him like she did, or possibly more. She wanted him to be loved forever because Mickey deserved all the love in the world and more. He didn’t deserve this, to lose the love of his life. 

And perhaps Sophie wasn’t the love of Mickey's life, perhaps she was just his first, maybe there was some greater love waiting for him around the corner. It brought her a calming sort of comfort as she sat there teetering on the edge of nothingness, trapped in the wreck of her actions. She should have been paying attention. 

Mickey grabbed the rope from the back of the truck and tied it around the back of the tow bar, making sure it was secure before he took off running right towards the tall tree that he knew was strong enough to hold the weight of his BT-50. 

But when he felt himself stopping, being pulled back by gravity as he fell to his arse, Mickey's heart sank into the very pit of his stomach. 

“No—oh god no no no no!!” The rope wasn’t long enough. The rope wasn’t fucking long enough. “Oh god no, please no.” 

Mickey felt the truck shift forward as he let go of the rope and raced back to his wife’s side. There wasn’t enough time, he needed more time to get her out, to think, to understand why this was happening. But there wasn’t any time. 

“I love you so much.” Sophie cried as Mickey reached in to try and free her legs from being trapped up under the steering wheel column but he was doing more damage than good. “So much Mickey.” 

“I need you to pull your legs out right now!” At this point Mickey was a wreck, he didn’t know what else to do. “Pull your damn legs Sophie!!” Her bottom lip quivered as the truck shifted forward again, it was tipping. It was about to go. “NNOOOOOO!!” Mickey shouted as he held onto the door and tried to pull it open. He couldn't do anything else to help his wife. 

“Please look after Logan for me—take care of him always.” Sophie cried as Mickey reached in to try one more time to free her. “I love you.” Was the last thing she ever said before Mickey felt two hands on his body before he was being shoved away. The second he fell back onto the ground the truck his wife was still trapped inside of went careening over the edge of the quarry. 

“NOOOO!” It felt like time stood still as Mickey watched the love of his life fall to her death over the edge of the quarry cliff face. He laid on his stomach and peered over to see the crumbled aluminum at the bottom—all twisted and broken and shattered. “NNOOOO!” 

Logan continued crying even when Mickey had found the courage to pick himself and his son up off the ground to try and find a way down. He probably circled that particular part of the quarry for the better half of half an hour before the next car came down the road that was barely driven on. They saw Mickey walking along the edge and stopped when they saw the skid marks kicked up in the grass but no car in sight. 

“You alright there bud?” An older looking gentleman asked as Mickey turned around to face him. Only then did he let himself crumble to his knees when reality set in. He’d just lost the love of his life. 

“My wife and I were in an accident—I think, I think she’s—she’s trapped down in the quarry.” He cried out through painful tears. Mickey didn’t have the courage to say she was dead. “Please help me.” 

“I’ll call an ambulance.” The older gentleman nodded as Mickey sat with his now soothing son on the ground, rocking back and forth mumbling to himself. 

“I should have driven, I should have driven, I should have just driven.” 

Until he saw the same white horse, staring at him from across the broken fence he and Sophie had smashed through. Just watching the man who lost it all in the blink of an eye unravel in the mid afternoon glow. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Are you heading out for the night, Fanboy?” Mickey was one of the last patrons left in the Hard Deck, but he hadn’t taken any notice of the time that had passed as he thought back to the day he lost his wife. The damned day. 

“Uh—“ He was going to say yes, going to head out and make sure Logan got to bed because it was way past his bedtime. But he was sleeping soundly in his arms as Mickey approached the bar. “No actually I was uh—I was gonna see if you needed a ride home actually.” It was the boldest Mickey had been since he met you and had started to develop some sort of feeling or two. “Or if you might just want the company while you shut up shop.” 

It hurts to tear that bandage off, we don’t wanna see what’s underneath. But maybe it’s not the fear of the pain that holds us back, but maybe it’s the fact we’re afraid to see if the wound underneath is still open.

“I’d love a ride home.” You smiled softly with a nod as you felt the heat in your cheeks rise. “And the company seems pretty good to Flyboy.” 

Or if it might actually be healing. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~****~**

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #jekyll & hyde // mickey garcia #mickey garcia angst #mickey garcia whump #mickey garcia x reader #tw: car accident

[ohtobeleah]

My Future & Past // Javy Machado

Summary: You left Javy at the altar three years ago. In that time he put him back together again and moved on. But what happens when you show up in North Island looking to apologise for your actions.

Warnings: Mentions of ovarian cancer. Left at the altar. Relationship breakdown. Javy Machado x F!reader. Platonic Jake Seresin x F!reader.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author Note: Day Seventeen of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: “You look at little pale”. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Jake Seresin had known Javy Machado for the better half of his life. Hell, he knew the man before the pair of them became Hangman and Coyote, that’s how long the pair had known each other. 

So to say when your name and number appeared on Jake's phone like he’d been sucked right back into the past, you just had to know bile rose in the back of his throat and beads of sweat appeared across his forehead. 

“Hey, I know it’s been a while but I really need to talk to you. Is now a good time?” 

Jake looked up from where he was sitting, perched up near the pool table where he could more often than not be found. His heart sank into his chest when his eyes landed on his best friend with his beautiful growing family. His wife of eight months Laura and his three month old daughter Millie. Javy Machado had very much moved on. He’d rebuilt everything you broke when you left him at the altar. And Jake wasn’t sure if he should give you the option to possibly ruin that:

Because deep down Jake Seresin knew if you walked back into Javy Machados life? He’d leave everything behind for you. 

“If you give me ten minutes I’ll call you.” Jake replied. He was going to leave it at that, but broke his golden rule and doubled texted. 

“I’m not gonna stop you from seeing him, but I need you to know that he’s happy now. Jav’s got a wife and kid now.”

Jake pocketed his phone just after he saw the three little bubbles that indicated you were typing back. He hated the way his chest felt so tight. Knowing that you wanted to talk after so long really had Jake's head spinning—he’d once considered you a sister. But then you left his best friend at the altar without any reason or explanation for your actions. 

“I’m gonna head out for the night.” Jake mentioned as he intruded on the new family that were enjoying a little night out. “I’ll see you Monday man.” 

“Yeah, seeya later man, I'll catch up with you.” Javy and Jake both said their goodbyes with parts on the backs and respective handshakes before Jake leaned in to kiss Laura on the cheek. She was as kind as they came. 

“You look really good mama.” Jake cooed as he said his goodbyes to his best friend's wife. “And little Miss Millicent here is just the most precious thing.” She was sleeping in Laura’s arms. Completely milk drunk and dreaming of whatever babies dream about when they’re that old. “Text me when you’re home safe.” 

“Will do Jake, will do.” He was the single cocksure uncle, but Jake was a part of the Machado family. He always had been. He had a place at the dinner table, clothes in the spare room and a half finished decking project in the Machados back yard. He was every bit a part of the family. “Drive safe, text when you get home too.” 

“Always—“ 

Jake made his way out to his truck, the second his door was shut behind him he was pressing on the contact he never had enough courage to delete. Yours. Had it really been three years? 

“I can explain everything.” Jake could tell you were crying. “Jake you have to just listen to me okay.” He hadn’t heard your voice in three entire years. “Please give me a chance to explain—“

“Y/n you left my best friend at the fucking altar what could you possibly say that could explain that?”

Jake sighed as he ran his free hand through his blonde locks. The Hard Deck looked simply beautiful tonight, with festoon lights illuminated the entire scene. “There’s nothing you could say that could make that okay, he loved you, I loved you, and you just—“ That’s when Jake's heart sank, that’s when you interrupted and finally told Jake Seresin what made you leave Javy, the absolute love of your life, at the altar the day you were supposed to marry him, you best friend. 

“Jake, I have ovarian cancer.” You told him in a rush. The silence that fell between the phone call had you wanting to throw up. “I found out the morning of.” You explained, it still felt all too much to handle—but you’d been doing this all on your own ever since you ran out. “My doctor rang, it was urgent and she told me point blank it wasn’t good—I panicked, I couldn’t do that to Javy.” 

“He would have loved you regardless—“ Jake felt awful, he really did. He couldn’t begin to imagine what you had gone through. But he had seen what you leaving had done to Javy and that was enough to have his guard up. That pain alone was enough to keep his wits about himself. Jake liked you, he always had—he saw the good in everything you did for everyone around you. So when you left his best friend heartbroken he knew it was so far out of your character that something had to have been wrong. And turns out there was—you just never told them. You never told anyone, you had simply just disappeared into thin air. 

“Not when my prognosis was six months.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

It felt weird being in North Island, like you were intruding on your ex’s life. You owed him an explanation though, even if it was coming out of nowhere. With the prognosis changing and your life expectancy unexpectedly growing with the treatment and your body's response to therapy, you felt a burning need to apologies to the man who was still and always would be the love of your life. 

“She's just the cutest little thing.” Bob cooed as Laura held her sleeping newborn in the shade of the beach umbrella that had been set up for the two of them for the day. “She's getting so big.” 

“I know–” Laura cooed down at her little girl. “She makes time go a little faster, that's for sure. I wish I could just slow it down, stop her from growing up.” You could see the group from the decking of the Hard Deck. A game of Dogfight football was well underway and of course, Javy was running around without a shirt, looking all kinds of god-like. 

You really missed him, hell he didn't deserve what you did to him. He didn't deserve to believe he wasnt enough for you when in reality he was everything and then some. 

“I thought I told you to wait?” Jake sighed as he came up beside you, a beer in hand as per usual. “Y/n– now isn't the time.” 

“Is that his wife?” You didn't bother acknowledging Jake's statement and simply pressed on with your own as Javy caught the sight of Jake, his best friend, up on the deck with someone he didn't recognise at first. But soon enough he was stopping in his tracks. “She's really pretty.” 

“She's good people.” Jake replied sternly. “And she doesn't deserve the scene that will play out if Javy sees you here, you should probably just go home and ill tell Javy to come over for Beers a little later tonight and the two of you can talk then.” But it was already too late for that, Javy had spotted you and you had spotted him. You sent him a small, nonthreatening wave and soft smile but all he did was remain still–hoping that if he stayed still enough, you wouldn't see him. 

“You alright Coyote?” Rooster asked as he handed him the ball. “You look a little pale?” 

You couldn't be here. It surely had to be the heat playing tricks on him, like you were some sort of mirage that his mind had made up. You weren't here, you couldn't be, you left and he hadn’t heard from you since. It was an impossible idea his mind had surely made up under the influence of the sun's rays. 

“Who's Jake with?” Javy thought if Rooster knew, maybe the idea of you would fade away into the back of his mind. He’d locked any and all memories of you in the back of his mind, forever to be kept in the dark, you had broken his heart and he swore he’d never recover. But he had, he had a beautiful wife and a beautiful little girl to show for it. He was happy. 

“I dunno but she's kinda hot.” Rooster chuckled, not knowing anything about you or who you were. “Dunno man, probably just a badge bunny in town.” Javy Machado had looked death straight in the eye, he had free fallen from heights you wouldn't believe. He had been on suicide missons and come back from the brink of death–but none of that compared to the fear he felt in his heart when he put one foot in front of the other. Taking heavy stride up the beach with his mind racing of the day you left him behind. 

The silence had been so deafening the moment he relised you weren't coming down that aisle. And as he made his way up towards the Hard Deck, the look Jake gave him was something very similar to the look he had given him when he was tasked with telling his best friend you were gone without a trace. He felt the heaviness before he made it to the steps, nothing could compare to this feeling. 

No mission could make Javy Machado as fearful and as angry as he was right now, looking you right in the eyes, the eyes he once thought he’d spend the rest of his life looking into, seeing a future in. 

“Hey Ja–”

“What the fuck?” It was the first thing his brain could conjure up. “What are you doing here?” You could feel your heart beating ridiculously fast inside your chest. Your lungs felt like they were on fire, ignited by a burning desire to leap forward and kiss the man you loved so dearly. 

“I uh–” You had to clear your throat as you looked at Jake who just stepped back, he didn't want to be a part of this any more than he already was. He had given you a place to stay, he’d listened to what you had to say and even he was still on the fence about it all. But he sympathised. He wasn't sure what he would have done if it was him in your shoes. But this wasn't his fight, this wasn't his heartbreak, this was between you and Javy. “I needed to see you, just to talk, I owe you an apology–” 

“You left me on our wedding day!” Javy hissed as he stepped up the three wooden stairs that led up to where you stood. “What could possibly explain that besides the fact you didn't love me enough to want to marry me!” 

Laura could hear her husband from afar. She knew about you. Javy had been very open and honest about who you were to him and what you did. She had helped rebuild the man you broke and the idea you were here, made her blood boil. But she wasn't about to intervene–she trusted her husband more than she trusted herself. 

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” You could feel all eyes on you as you looked past Javy and saw what you could only assume was his entire team and family looking up at the deck. “A little more private?” 

“No.” Javy growled. “NO you came here to talk so lets fucking talk Y/n, you left me! You just walked away like I didn't matter, like we didn’t share a life, like I didn't love you with everything I had and I wanna know the goddamn reason!” 

“It's complicated.” You could feel the tears welling in your eyes but you knew you had to be honest. You had come all this way. “I had some health complications.” 

“Health complications that you couldn’t tell your almost husband about?” Javy scoffed at the thought. “Come on Y/n give it a break, we were together for five years!” You didn't need to be reminded of how much time you spent with Javy. You knew. “I loved you!” 

“I WAS DYING!” You just came out and said it, it was better to rip the band-aid off right? Get it out in the open. “I have Ovarian cancer Javy, I found out the morning of our wedding and I panicked, I freaked the fuck out and ran! I'm not proud of what I did and I never meant to hurt you! But I was told I was dying and I couldn't do that to you!” The world Javy had created in his mind began to crumble around him. He thought maybe you'd gotten cold feet because you didn't love him enough to marry him, he thought perhaps you'd run off with some guy you met, hell he even decided one night after a few too many drinks that you were dead–now he wished he never thought that. 

“And what?” Javy hissed through a frown so prominent it cut straight through your heart. “You thought that I wouldn't? Love you?” He asked condescendingly as rage ran rampant in his heart. 

“I didn't want to be a bourbon!” Your tears fell freely. “I didn't want you to watch me die, it wasn't fair to do that to you.” Jake watched on from a distance as your heart shattered into a million pieces on the decking boards. Javy was fuming, he loved you so much once, hell he’d never truly stopped. “I didn’t want to force you into becoming a caretaker, you deserved better than that and I didn’t want to make you suffer in our marriage.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be there for you–” Javy turned his back on you so that you wouldn't see him cry. He didn't want you to know that you could still have him dropping to his knees and mostly importantly, he didn't want you to ever know that he would give up the family he made in a heartbeat if it meant that he could be with you. 

“I didn’t want you to shackle yourself to a dying woman!” It was the god honest truth of the matter, you didn't want Javy to marry you just to end up losing you. That in your mind was worse than the cruel fate you'd been dealt. 

“I LOVED YOU. It was supposed to be for better or worse, in sickness and health, until we died!! I would have been there for you, WITH you, every single day. And I would have loved you until the very end! Hoping and praying that you would get better! But YOU took that choice away from me!” 

“I”M SORRY!!! I was just trying to do the right thing! I was trying to protect you!” 

“Yeah, well look at how that turned out.” Javy had nothing left to give you, he had no fight left inside him. “I'm done here.” He hissed. “You wanted to die alone, then die alone Y/n, I didn't need this, this apology that only benefited you and your narrative.” Jake had to agree, Javy truly didn't need it. “You broke me, and that woman down there and my beautiful daughter and these people, they put me back together after you broke me, and I won't let you near me ever again so that you can do it again.” 

You watched on broken hearted as Javy gathered his family and left. He looked your way just one more time before he truly left the woman he used to love and if he was being completely honest with himself, still does, crying on the deck. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

[Author Note] I concepted this idea with @callsignspark & we both agree the wife ends up at Jakes doorstep to confront the reader and tells you to leave. Only for Javy to show up three hours later after you’ve gone willing to throw his whole marriage away to love you again.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #Javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado #javy machado fic #javy machado imagine #javy Machado whump #tw: ovarian cancer

[ohtobeleah]

Self-flagellation // Tom Kazanksy

Summary: The death of Goose Bradshaw rocks the TopGun class. Iceman struggles with the ideology that his death could have been prevented if he wasn’t sure sure of himself.

Warnings: Suicide attempt. Suicidal tendencies. Depression. Mentions of pregnancy.

Word Count: 3.2k

Author Note: Day Five of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Self-harm. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

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The warm soapy water soothed Tom’s aching muscles as he let himself slide down the side of the bath till the only thing remaining above the water was his head. Notes of jasmine from your scented epsom salts he swore he never indulged in filled the bathroom as the drip from the leaky faucet filled the void, the silent but all consuming void of nothingness that had followed Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazanksy around ever since he saw Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw break his neck during a freak accident.

It could have been avoided, the death of Goose Bradshaw. If Tom hadn't been so arrogant, if he hadn't started the chain reaction of events that led to Goose's death by cutting Maverick off—perhaps it all could have been avoided. He was so arrogant and sure of himself that he could get that shot, it was just a training exercise, no one should have died. 

The more he thought about it as he sunk deeper and deeper into the water, he knew he should have moved. He knew that it was his fault, his actions, and every choice that led to the death of Goose Bradshaw. 

And that was something he couldn’t live with. 

“Tom!” Your voice cut through the water like a breath of fresh air as you pulled your fiancé up from under the water he’d sunk under. “Jesus Christ what the hell are you doing?” It was the shock of walking into the bathroom and seeing your fiancé completely submerged and not making any attempt to move or get up that was talking. “Tom?” You asked as you assessed his face with both your hands cupping his cheeks. “What are you doing? What’s gotten into you?” You were in search of an answer that perhaps would have been written in the lines on his face—but when Tom reached up to take your hand in his and kissed your knuckles a few times. You knew something was wrong, very wrong. It was the look of dismissal in his eyes. 

The very look you saw from your mother right before she was admitted into the loony bin. 

“I’m fine—“ Tom tried to reassure you as you tried to keep your composure. “Totally fine dear, just thought it was real quiet under the water.” Tom  wanted to tell you about the voices in his head that he’d been trying to silence. Or about the way the burn his lungs felt as he begun to run out of oxygen made him feel closer to Goose. He wanted to be under that water—if you hadn’t pulled him up he would have truly stayed there. It seemed like a peaceful way to go. 

He wanted to tell you that it was all his fault, he killed Nick Bradshaw and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t live with the guilt, he saw that little kid on his mothers hip at the funeral three days prior and ever since he made eye contact with little Bradley Bradshaw—Tom wanted nothing more than to trade places with the RIO he killed with negligent flying. 

But he didn’t tell you any of that. Tom Kazanksy wouldn’t let his walls come down for no one. Not even you—he didn’t want to be seen as weak minded. His father had instilled a great fear of being seen as less than man enough if he were to ever shed a single tear. So the idea of crumbling to his knees, holding you tight and telling you he wanted nothing more than to trade places with a dead man was far beyond the realm of comprehension. 

“I’m fine honey, I was just in my own world for a second there.” You were completely disinclined to believe what your fiancé was saying. The signs were all there. The warning signals had been popping up for weeks. But all you did to keep the peace was nod in simple silence as you sat on the edge of the bathtub. “I love you, I’m sorry for spookin you.” 

“You’d tell me—“ You cooed as you pushed Tom's hair from his forehead. “You’d tell me if you weren’t alright wouldn’t you baby?” The question packed a punch Tom wasn’t exactly ready for. He couldn’t tell you, you’d think he was certifiably insane for having such thoughts. He didn’t want you to worry about him, he was fine, he was totally and completely fine. 

So he lied right through those perfect teeth of his. He held your hand back up to his lips and pressed gentle kisses across your knuckles. His eyes told you a completely different story to the rhetoric he was spinning. Tom was going under, he was drowning in his own sorrow and guilt for a man he’d let down, that he’d killed. But he wouldn’t tell you that, he couldn’t bring himself to explain to the love of his life. 

So he lied. He lied and lied and lied, hoping that one day soon he’d believe himself. 

“Absolutely.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

He didn’t mean for it to happen, Tom Kazanksy never meant for his actions to result in his colleague and friends' untimely death. He didn’t mean to rip a family apart at the very seam. 

But he had. And he couldn’t cope with the guilt. 

“I’m worried about him, Carole.” You sighed as you walked with the newly widowed woman to her husband's grave. “He blames himself, much like Mav.” 

“It’s nobody's fault—“ Carole cooed as she held a bunch of roses in her hand and her sons in the other. Bradkey didn’t understand where his daddy had gone and it broke your heart. “It was just a freak accident—I know my husband wouldn't have put the blame on anyone, and I don’t either.” 

Carole Bradshaw was a beacon of hope to all the aviators who had lost a dear friend. She was the very reminder they needed to keep going, to keep her husband’s legacy alive by doing what he loved the most. 

“I think you should get him to talk to someone if you’re really concerned, even if he doesn’t think anything’s wrong—it always helps to talk it out.” Carole mentioned as she walked with you side by side. “I talk to a therapist about this new chapter twice a week.” She admitted tentatively. “Sometimes it feels all too much, then I remember I have Bradley.” She smiled softly, looking down at her husband’s surviving son. “He deserves to have a mother who’s as put together as can be.” That’s when Carole looked at you genuinely and wholeheartedly saw into your very soul as you held back tears. “Tom needs to be as put together as he can be, for the little one.” 

“I haven’t even told him yet.” You could feel your bottom lip wobbling as you spoke. “I don’t want to overwhelm him.” You were only a few weeks along and hadn’t worked up the courage to tell your fiancé yet. He wasn’t himself, between his need to be alone and his lack of attention to your relationship, you felt as if the news of a child would completely dismal Tom's very delicate mental state. “I’m not sure if he’s ready—“

“Maybe if he knew he’d helped create life then the idea he took it away wouldn’t be as overwhelming.” Carole always knew just what to say even when she was barely keeping herself together. After all, it was her husband's grace you were going to visit—not Toms. “Not that he had any involvement, because it was an accident.” 

“How many times have you told yourself that?”

You had to ask. “You know, before you started to believe it?” 

Carole let out a deep sigh that sounded like it came from her very soul. She squeezed her son's hand three consecutive times and did her best to keep her composure. 

“I tell myself that every day.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Honey?” Days turned into weeks before you had even noticed that the weeks had long since turned into months. Tom was for the most part a shell of his former self. He wasn’t home when all the lights seemed to be on. “Tom baby, are you home?” 

You’d gotten a call from Viper halfway through your shift, he was concerned to say the very least about Tom and the fact he hadn’t shown up for work this morning really had him worried. He’d asked the pilot if he was doing okay a few times since the accident—but every time he pressed, Tom did what he did best and shut the very people who cared about him the most, out. 

“Tom? Honey it’s me baby—Viper called?” You cooed as you placed your keys in the little dish by the front door. The house was eerily quiet for the mid afternoon. Usually the offshore breeze would be blowing through the open windows, but when the air felt still, stale even. Like nothing had moved since you had left this morning. Like nobody had been home all day—yet your fiancés trunk was in the drive. A dead give away. “Honey?” 

It was all very ominous, the stillness of your humble apartment, the ground floor of a four story building on the outskirts of Fightertown. The usually warm and cozy living room felt as cold as ice when you walked on by. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Nothing seemed different or misplaced—but the quiet hum, the bubbling anxiety inside your chest told you something was wrong. Something was off and something terrible was about to happen, or had happened. 

You remembered what your mother looked like the night your dad had taken her to the emergency room. Her night gown was soaked in crimson blood that would never wash out. You tried. 

“Tom? Honey, are you in there?” The bathroom door wasn’t locked, but it was closed shut. Your hand tightened around the doorknob as you let your forehead rest against the painted frame. “Please just answer me? I won’t come in if you don’t want me to.” You sighed to yourself as you closed your eyes and tried to will away the thoughts of your mother. 

You always thought it would be you, mental health instability ran in your family like nothing you had ever seen. But here you were, your fiancé had been suffering and he refused to let you in. He refused to be a burden on you and now? Now you were afraid to open the door, you were terrified beyond belief at what you might see. 

“Tom—“ Your feet felt frozen as you turned the door handle, the bathroom door slowly but surely creaked open. Time stood still as your eyes landed on the broad shouldered aviator lying in bloodied bath water that looked as thick as gelatin. “Oh god! TOM!” 

The shrill that left your body as you rushed over was a sound so painstakingly familiar that for a moment you swore you had heard your father scream behind you. History had a funny way of repeating itself. 

“Tom, honey—open your eyes baby look at me!” You tried to stay as calm as you could. “I’ve gotta call an ambulance.” That was the priority, call for help, stop the bleeding, save your fiancé’s life. You kept repeating it over and over like a mantra that would forever be embedded into your soul. Call for help, stop the bleeding, save Tom's life.”  

The home phone was down the hall and boy did it kill you every second you were gone, but when you came back to the bathroom, you brought bandages and gauze from the first aid kit you kept in the kitchen with you. 

“I’m here baby, I’m here.” Tom was unconscious but he still had a very weak, very faint, hardly there at all paulse. “Please don’t leave us, we’re right here, please please please don’t do this to us.” Twelve weeks, that’s how far along you were. For twelve weeks you had kept your pregnancy a secret from everyone except Carole Bradshaw. For twelve weeks your fiancé had been so distant and so closed off, disconnected even he hadn’t noticed the bouts of sickness, the fatigue, the way your stomach seemed a little more distended then it usually did. You weren’t showing all that much—but you thought the man you loved unconditionally, with your entire heart, with everything you had and more, would have noticed. 

But he didn’t. 

“Come on baby.” You tried to move him from the bathtub but the dead weight of Tom Kazanksys unconscious body was far too heavy for you to handle. “Stay with us, please.” Blood threatened to stain all aspects of the bathroom. The tiles, your clothes, even Tom's skin. But you did what you could with what you had to stop the bleeding coming from his wrists. Slashed deep. You had to hold back the nausea you felt as you wrapped both your fiancé’s wrists tight to stop them from bleeding any more, but judging by the amount of blood in the water and on the side of the bath—Tom had already lost a lot. 

This wasn’t a cry for help, this was so much more. This wasn’t just to feel something, this was to feel nothing at all. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more observant.” You cried as you kept Tom above the water, his head lulled to the side in your hands as you waited for the medics to arrive. “Honey, oh baby we love you so much, please don’t do this to us, please don’t leave.” You had to keep your fingers pressed against his neck, pressed against Tom’s pulse point to remind yourself he was still with you. “If you leave us so help me Christ Tom I’ll never forgive you—don’t you do this to me baby.” 

***~***~***~***~**

“No.” The last person Tom Kazanksy wanted to see was you, but here you were—sleeping in the small hospital chair beside his bed with your hand delicately intertwined with his. “No god no—“ He wasn’t supposed to be here with you. He was supposed to be dead, he wasn’t supposed to be alive where the burden was all too much and the guilt was all consuming. He couldn’t be here. “I’m alive?”

He couldn’t remember what happened after he’d sliced his wrists, but for what he could put together he assumed you would have been the one who found him. He left a letter on your pillow, he wondered if you’d found it. 

“A clinician is going to come in and speak with you soon.” Tom looked over at you as you spoke, your eyes were barely open, but when he finally met your gaze he saw the hurt he’d caused in them. “Tom—“

“You should have let me die.” Was all he said back to you. The words he spoke hurt more than he would ever know. “It’s my fault he died.” 

“Maverick said—“

“Forget what fucking Maverick said Y/n!” Tom snapped as you readjusted yourself in the chair you sat perched on. “I killed him! Goose died because I was flying recklessly and now I can’t live with the fucking guilt—you should have let me die!” 

“There are people who can help Tom.” You were a little more stirn than you would have liked to have been, but your fiancé had just tried to kill himself over his own deep rooted resentment for himself. “God why on earth do you think that killing yourself is the only option here?” 

“Because I don’t wanna go on living knowing I ruined someone else’s life!” He cried, Tom Kazanksy barely ever cried, in front of people anyway. But here he was, crying in front of you after he’d failed at taking his own life. You’d stopped him. “And if you hadn’t come home I’d be fucking dead! I wouldn’t have to live with myself and I wouldn’t have to look at you and wish you’d stop interfering!” 

It hit you in that very moment that when you’d found Tom in the bath he had in fact not been alright, he was trying to drown himself. Only you’d pulled him to the surface. 

“I don’t want you around anymore.” You looked at your fiancé with pleading eyes. “I don’t love you enough to stay, I don’t love you enough to keep fighting the fight I know I’ll fucking lose because I’m not strong enough.” It hurt more than anything else in this world. “You don’t need me, you don’t deserve to have to babysit me wondering when I’ll try again, because I will. I’ll try again until I’m dead and gone and don’t have to live with the guilt.” 

“Tom—“ Tom Kazanksy was the love of your life. He was once the funny and charismatic man who swept you off your feet. But now as you sat by his hospital bed after saving his life, all he could say to you was why did you even bother. “I can’t leave you after this, you need someone—“ 

“If you stay I’ll just end up hating you—“ That was the nail in the coffin of your broken relationship. “I’ll hate you for saving me and I’ll hate you forever, so please, just leave, go.” Maverick stood by the door, he’d come to see if you needed anything. He had heard every word Ice spoke and his heart was broken for you. You didn’t see any of this. 

This was so much worse than he ever thought it was. Maverick watched as you got up out of your chair, crying hysterically as you held a protective hand over your small but there baby bump. He knew. He knew you were pregnant, Carole had slipped up one night when she was in her own head about the entire situation.

“And don’t think I don’t know either.” Tom added as your tears fell down your face. He watched as you stopped in your tracks. “That baby is better off never knowing me.” He hissed as you kept your back turned, he wasn’t the same man you loved. This was the shell of a man you once knew, a broken man who had pushed everyone, including you away. “If you had bothered to tell me I would have asked you to abort it, saved you the trouble of my burden.” You turned back to face your fiancé as he spiraled further into his psychotic break. “It’s one of the reasons I did it, I don’t deserve to be a father after what I did.” 

You took a deep breath as you wiggled your engagement ring off your ringer before you slowly moved back to the bedside. Tom watched you with teary eyes of his own. He couldn’t believe that he was giving up his entire world because he couldn’t handle the immense guilt, the shame, the fear he felt all for kissing one of his friends. 

“You were right.” You dropped the ring into his lap, deciding that if Tom Kazanksy had given up on living that he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your support, your love, your energy or your child. This was different to what your mother went through, this wasn’t just depression, this was selfishness and cruel behaviour. 

And hell—two could play at that game, become why on god's green earth should you continue to try and save someone who didn’t want to be saved?”

“You weren’t worth saving.” You whispered as you turned on your heels to head out of the room as the clinician walked in. Loving Tom Kazanksy had turned into a losing game. But you had just one final thing to say over your shoulder. 

“Say hi to Goose when you see him, maybe you’ll believe him when he tells you it wasn’t ever your fault.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

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