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ohtobeleah · 6 months

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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

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sarahsmi13s · 7 months

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Mama's Don't Get Sick Days

whumptober day 18: fever / vomiting / warm soup

pairing: mickey 'fanboy' garcia x reader

characters: mickey garcia, wife!reader, genevieve garcia, jayda garcia, sebastian garcia

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, vomiting, mickey is a dad, parenting while sick, fever, neglecting health, please let me know if I missed any

word count: ~ 2.1k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary: when your a spouse and a parent, sometimes you forget that you can be taken care of as well

You sighed as you sat on the couch. Your head was pounding and your stomach was churning with the whole lot of nothing that was in it.

Running around all morning with three kids, two of them under the age of 5 and one of them was just learning how to walk, was an absolute nightmare with how you were feeling.

Mickey had woken you up with a forehead kiss before going off to work and then your 6 and 4 year old woke you up a little while later with Genevieve crying because she was gonna be late for school.

So, with a splitting headache and sinus pressure, you got her dressed and fed her breakfast before getting all of your kids in the car and taking her to school.

The rest of the day was a blur of chasing Jayda and keeping her occupied and keeping little Sebastian out of things and things out of his mouth.

Jayda was 4 and pretty good at staying out of trouble, but she was still young and had an independent head on her shoulders – so asking for help was never really an option so you had to make sure she wasn’t climbing on things and getting stuck on the closet's top shelf.

Sebastian was 1 and just learning how to walk. So he was getting into anything he reached and if it was on the floor or the table it most likely was going in his mouth.

So, between keeping Jayda on the ground, Sebastian from eating something he shouldn’t, and you not puking every time you bent over or changed a diaper and going through tissues like you were watching the saddest scene 100 times, you were exhausted.

But you had to stay awake even if those two were napping, because you had to pick up Gen from school on time.

“Mama?” Gen asked from her bar stool as you make her after school snack of Goldfish, and her dried mangos that you forgot to pack that morning, and turkey cheese rolls.

You glanced over your shoulder, “What’s up Vieve?” “Are you feeling okay? You look like I feel when I’m feeling icky,” she said, sounding so sweet as she rested her head on the counter. “And I was almost late for school, you always have me up…” “I’m okay baby, just a little frazzled today,” you said before coughing into your arm.

Sniffling, you turned and put the paper plate in front of her, “I’m really sorry about this morning, I should’ve gotten up sooner.” Genevieve took a bite of her turkey cheese roll, “It’s okay I got to school on time.”

You gave her a gentle smile before kissing her head, “Did you have a good day?” She nodded, “I did, Jacie and I played…” You nodded along with her as she proceeded to tell you about her day, listening to her as you took some Cutie slices off of Jayda’s plate and Cheerios off of Sebastian’s tray.

At some point while she was talking you went to check her lunch box to see what she hadn’t eaten.

But as you opened it you were hit with a pungent reminder of what she had for lunch. Tuna and crackers, something her grandmother introduced her to during the last visit.

The smell churned your stomach that last time and anything you managed to actually eat was crawling up your throat.

Covering your mouth, you managed to make it to the downstairs bathroom before falling to your knees and puking in the toilet.

You rested your head on your arm, groaning miserably as you flushed the toilet before regaining your bearings and standing up.

With your head pounding, you wash your hands and swish your mouthwash before going back to the kitchen. “Hey, Jay, Vieve?” You said softly as you got Sebastian out of his high chair. “Yes Mama?” “I’m gonna go sit on the couch, Bash is gonna be in his playpen. Finish your snacks and then you can play okay?”

They both nodded before Genevieve stopped you with a hand on your arm as you walked by, “Are you not feeling well?” You sighed, “No, baby, I’m a little under the weather but don’t you worry, I’m gonna be okay.”

You gave her a gentle smile before going to the living room and putting Sebastian in his playpen. You sighed as you sat down. “Oh lordy… just a few more hours and he’ll be home and I can rest.”

As you curl up under a blanket and move the trash can closer to the couch, you rest your cold hands on your face to try and relieve the pressure in your nose.

You can make out Jayda and Genevieve arguing in the kitchen. “I can take the Sprite to Mama!” “Jay, you can’t reach them in the fridge! Get the crackers!” “I don’t wanna!”

“Girls! Please don’t yell,” you groaned a little from your spot on the couch. “Sorry Mama!”

You sighed and rubbed your head before you heard more loud noises coming from the kitchen and then a little, “Oopsie.”

“What happened?”

“Jayda tried to get a can of Sprite and dropped them…”

Taking a sharp inhale, you look up at the ceiling and let it out before looking at Sebastian, “I’ll be right back Bash. Mama has a mess to clean.” “No! I gots it, Mama! I’ll get a towel,” Jayda said as she ran to the laundry room.

“Okay,” you sighed, at this point it was useless to try and argue. You were tired, you could mop it up later.

“Here Mama, I got you some water,” Genevieve said softly as she brought you a cup. It was over flowing, and you were sure there was a trail of water behind her. But the thought was sweet. “Thank you baby.”

You sipped the water in your glass before sitting it down and leaning back.

“Mama! I brought you crackers!” Jayda shouted, running over with a sleeve of crackers.

You smiled a little, “Thank you Jay.” You reached for them but she held out a hand, “No, I’ll open it!” “Jayda, don’t yell! Mama has a headache!” “Vieve, you’re yelling,” you said gently. “Sorry Mama.”

You looked back to Jayda to see her struggling before ripping it open and spilling crackers on the carpet. “Oops…” She looked up at you and handed you what was left, “Here you go.” “Thank you hun.”

“Why don’t you both go play in your room, Gen. Daddy will be home soon and you can go outside.”

They nodded before running up the stairs.

You sighed and held your head in your hands before sliding to the floor and picking up the crackers and throwing them away.

But your position change made blood rush to your head and triggered your gag reflex. “Shit,” you muttered before gripping the edges of the trash can and just waiting for it. Apparently it was taking its time until you sat up because it all rushed up at once when you did.

Groaning into the trash can, you spat into it before getting up and going back into the bathroom to wash your mouth out again.

You came back into the living room to hear Sebastian crying.

“Oh Bash, Mama left you alone didn’t she. I’m sorry,” you said, picking him up and shushing him gently. “Oh I know baby boy, I’m sorry.”

It took you about 20 minutes of that before he fell asleep in your arms and you laid him down in his playpen.

“There you go, baby.” You sighed and laid down on the couch. “Just an hour, and Mickey will be home…” You cuddled up with a blanket and turned the TV on, “Just need to relax for a little bit.”

Mickey smiled as he walked in, “Hey, guess who’s home?” “Shhhh, Daddy, Mama’s sleeping,” Genevieve hissed from her spot on the carpet.

“Oh,” he winced. “Sorry sorry.”

He put his bag down gently before walking in, seeing tissues on nearly every surface from where you had blown your nose while you chased kids around the house. And then when he got to the living room he noticed the trash can next to the couch.

The girls were coloring in the living room, having come down to watch TV just before Mickey got home, and Sebastian was still napping.

He sighed and went over to you, glancing to see the vomit in the trash can. He knelt down, feeling the saltines break under his weight.

“Hey, baby?” Mickey gently shook your shoulder, putting the inside of his wrist to your forehead, “Shit… you’re burning up.” He patted your face, “Hey honey.”

You groaned a little as your eyes fluttered open, “Hey, Mick…”

“How long have you been like this?”

“What do you mean?”

He arched his brow, “Um, you’re cuddled up on the couch burning up and sweating like I do on the tarmac? Honey, have you felt icky all day?” He censored himself, remembering little ears were in ear shot.

“I um,” you said sniffling as you sat up. Mickey watched you close your eyes and groan as you steadied yourself and he frowned. “Sweetheart…” “I’m okay Mick, just a little-”

Your sentence got interrupted by a sudden rush of sick. “Trash can…” Mickey didn’t even question it and held the trash can up, holding your hair back with his free hand.

“I got you baby, I got ya.”

“Daddy? Is Mama okay?” Jayda asked, a little worry in her voice. “Yeah, Mama’s gonna be okay. She’s just not feeling well, but she’s okay.” Jayda nodded and quietly went back to coloring.

Once you’re done throwing up, Mickey helps you stand. “Girls, Mama and I will be right back, be good okay?” “Yes Daddy,” they both said as they continued to color.

Mickey helped you to the bathroom and sat you on the closed toilet as he looked for the thermometer. “Have you felt bad all day?” You opened your mouth but he spoke again. “And don’t lie to me.”

You sighed and nodded as he held the thermometer up and put it in your mouth.

“You’ve felt shitty all day?” You nodded again as the thermometer beeped and he took it out to look at it. “101.3, fuck, Honey. Why didn’t you call me? I would have come home. Mav would under-”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to take you away from work.” “Screw work, you’re sick and you took care of three kids by yourself. Honey, you’re exhausted and you won’t get better if you don’t let yourself rest.”

You shook your head before groaning a little at the headache the action gave you, “Miguel, you can’t-” You blinked as you stopped mid sentence, your lips trembling as you felt sick again. Covering your mouth, you moved to the floor and lifted the lid to throw up in the toilet.

Mickey frowned, feeling awful for not being here today and leaving you to deal with the kids while you miserable. He squatted down and grabbed a ponytail holder, tying your hair back for you, “I’m calling Cyclone and Mav, I’m not going in tomorrow so I can take care of you and the kids.”

“I can’t ask you to do that… You love your job.”

He looked up at you, almost angry, “Not as much as I love you. And you’re not asking, that’s the reason I’m telling you that I’m not going in.”

You stayed quiet and just shook your head, trying not to get sick again, “I need to make dinner…” He shook his head right back, “You’re not serious, you’re actively trying not to throw up again. Y/N, you need to go lay down with a cold rag on your head. I’ll fix dinner for me and the kids and you get soup.”

You perked up a little, sitting up and looking at him, “Your abuela’s soup?”

He smiled and cupped your cheek, “If that’s what you want then that’s what I’ll make. But only if you take a break and let me baby you until you're better.” “But the kids-” “What did I say?”

You sighed, “Okay, okay fine.”

“Alright now, let’s get you on the couch and I will get any mess left by our girls.”

You nodded and let him take you back to the couch before he got you a cool, damp rag.

“There you go Honey,” he said, laying it across your forehead. “Thank you Mickey. I love you.” “I love you too.”

You smiled at him, “Go start dinner so I can have abuela’s soup, go go.” He chuckled, “Alright, alright.” He kissed the top of your head before going to the kitchen.

“Hey! Who spilled Sprite all over the floor?”

taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @mayhemmanaged @kmc1989 @lovinglyeternal @horseshoegirl @cassiemitchell @fanboyswhore9 @nightowlalltheway @86laura11 @els-marvelvsp @valmare @startrekfangirl2233

hi, if you're seeing this and are currently not on the taglist and would like to be please fill out the taglist form -> whumptober taglist

i can not stress this enough, but whumptober can have some very serious and heavy topics and i want to make sure i am doing my part as an author to prepare my readers for what they are about to experience and that includes not only warnings above but my taglists as well

so if you want to be added check out the masterlist and read that carefully and fill out the form -> whumptober 2023

#vinny's whumptober #vinny's rainy day records #ailesswhumptober2023 #whumptober 2023 #whumptober #whumptober day 18 #top gun maverick #top gun #mickey fanboy garcia imagine #mickey fanboy garcia x reader #mickey fanboy garcia #mickey garcia #whump #angst #tw: vomit #sarahsmi13s

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 2 months

Text

The Life I Didn't Know

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia, f!reader Summary: Mickey Garcia thought returning to Top Gun was the most life-changing thing to ever happen to him. And that was before a ghost from his past confronted him on the tarmac. What you tell him next will change both how he views his past and his vision for his future. Word Count: 4591 TW: Lies, Secret Reveals, Hidden Child, Ghosting, Confessions; Unplanned Pregnancy; Reader is a Mom Note: Written for day 12 of @whumpthemusical's event for "Unplanned Pregnancy" from Waitress. Thank you to @musings-of-a-rose for your ask that inspired this fic 🥰 I'm just sorry it's taken almost 10 months to finish (but I guess it fits thematically 😂). And thank you to @topguncortez and @lorecraft for beta reading for me! 💕

Mickey Garcia always expected the greatest honor of his career would be when he was accepted into Top Gun. However, he never imagined he would be chosen to return as one of the best of the best a few years later. Yet he had done it! Selected along with his pilot and close friend, Payback, as one of the few to train for a top-secret mission. It was a dream come true.

He met most of the other aviators the night before at the Hard Deck, and with one possible exception, everyone seemed very nice and supportive. Then, after the debriefing this morning, he was excited—if a little nervous—about the next few weeks of training. He still can’t believe he was selected as a potential member of the mission. He doesn’t have high expectations for being chosen, but he is still going to try his very best.

After running back out to his car to grab some paperwork, he’s heading for the row of hangars so he can meet Payback to prep their plane for their first practice, a wide grin spread across his face. The fact he is about to fly in a training dogfight with Maverick—the Maverick—still feels like a dream to him. It feels like he’s being trained by Han Solo or Captain Kirk! He is a legend that other legends look up to and Mickey had never imagined he would get an opportunity like this. Could this day get any better?

Mickey should have known better than to send something like that into the universe.

As he reaches the tarmac, Mickey suddenly stumbles to a stop and his face drops as he catches sight of the ghost from his past standing in the way, almost as if waiting for him. But it’s impossible. He double-checked the roster ten times just to make sure there was no chance you were going to be here.

And yet here you are. Five—almost six—years older but still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“Falcon…”

You worry your lip between your teeth just like you used to when you got nervous or were deep in thought, but your eyes shine brightly when your callsign slipped from his lips. “Hey there, Fanboy.”

Oh, God… that voice. Instantly, a thousand memories flash through Mickey’s mind: the first time he laid eyes on you at boot camp with your brilliant smile and Death Star tattoo; flying with you as his pilot, and how he instantly knew he never wanted to fly with anyone else; you dubbing him Fanboy after seeing him nearly burst into tears after running into William Shatner in a coffee shop and him naming you Falcon after the iconic Star Wars ship; all the stolen, secret moments and rendezvous as your friendship blossomed into something deeper despite the risk of Command finding out; the morning he found your letter left on his bunk saying you had transferred and had already left without a warning or a goodbye.

With a Herculean effort, Mickey pulls himself together enough to ask, “Wha…. What are you doing here?”

“I work here. I’ve been an instructor at Top Gun for the past two years.” Your leg is bouncing slightly and you keep clenching and unclenching your hands. “I guess you were in the class the year before I started, but I was so proud when I heard you made it. Of course, I always knew you could.”

Instructors. Mickey groans softly to himself. He had been so focused on what other aviators had been recruited for the mission it never crossed his mind to check who the instructors would be. But it’s too late to do anything about it now.

“So, does that mean you’ll be teaching me?” It’s hard enough seeing you standing before him. But if he has to see you on a daily basis, listen to your lessons, follow your orders…there is no way he’ll make it the next three weeks.

Luckily, you shake your head. “No, it’s all top secret and I don’t have the clearance. I’m not even sure what your mission is. All they’ve told us is that they need the best of the best in the hopes of completing it, so I wasn’t surprised to see your name on the list. I never flew better than with you in my backseat.”

Mickey silently sighs in relief before he jams his hands in his pockets and coldly asks, “If you don’t have anything to do with my mission, what do you want, Falcon? After you disappeared for almost six years, I don’t really have anything I want to say to you. I think it’s better if we keep things the way you wanted it and just pretend the other doesn’t exist.”

He starts to walk around you, but you step in front of him, holding up your hand to block his retreat. “Is that really what you think I did? Left and never gave you another thought? Because you’re wrong. I think about you every single day, Mickey. And I haven’t been able to get into a plane without you in my head. No matter who I’m flying with, your voice is in my headset giving me directions, or doing systems checks, or failing to stump me with random trivia about another movie or tv show just like it used to be.” You take a deep breath as you let your hand drop to your side. “But maybe if I didn’t care, it would make all of this easier. I–”

You are close to tears as your voice trembles with every word, but Mickey is having none of it. “No! Uh uh. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to act like you’re the one who was hurt here,” he says, jamming his finger accusingly at you. “You’re the one who put in for a transfer without even talking to me about it first, so don’t act like you’re the victim. One day, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, flying with the woman I love at the stick, and the next, I wake up to a note telling me you’d left to fly with another unit. No explanation. No nothing. I never even got to say goodbye! You just disappeared from my life and you took my heart with you. But you never gave a shit.”

“Yes, I did! I swear!” Tears now begin to flow freely down your cheeks. You try to close the distance between you, but when Mickey steps back, you stop. Clutching your arms across your chest, you beg, “Mickey, I loved you. If there had been another way, I would have moved Heaven and Earth to stay with you but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Really?” Mickey scoffs. “Why not?”

“Because they found out about us.”

Needing no further context to understand what you are referring to, a cold dread washes over him. “W-who did?”

“Command. They heard from a few different people that we were ‘fraternizing’ outside of our duties. That we had started sleeping together a few months earlier and that it had evolved into an actual relationship.”

Mickey shakes his head as, in a softer tone, he says, “I never told anyone. I swear.”

Smiling warmly at him, you say, “I never doubted that. And just so you know, I didn’t either. But someone must have found some sort of evidence and turned us in. I tried to find out who, but I never had any luck. All I know is I got called into the discipline office and they said they were starting an investigation into our alleged relationship and if it were true…”

You take a deep breath as your arms tighten around your chest. “I knew if they went looking, they’d find out about us so I did the only thing I could think of to save our careers. I told them it wasn’t true but if they were still concerned, I would voluntarily opt for a different WSO or even transfer to another unit if that would clear things up. And they took me up on my offer.”

Missing pieces of Mickey’s past suddenly start to click into place. While it was against regulation for pilots and their backseaters to “fraternize” with any kind of romantic or sexual relationship, the rule was hardly ever enforced. However, around the time you disappeared, a pilot in another unit almost botched a mission saving his injured WSO instead of carrying out his assignment. When it was discovered they were in a romantic relationship at the time, Command began taking the regulation very seriously. Mickey recalls the two of you even had a nervous conversation about it at one point but just agreed to be more discreet while on base.

However, it still left some gaping holes in your excuse.

“But why did you do it? Some anonymous jerk claims we were dating and that’s it? We could have fought it. If you had told me what was going on, we could have both denied everything and there was no way they could prove it.”

“Yes, they could.” Your voice quivers slightly even as you scoff humorlessly. “There was one piece of undeniable proof that would have had us both discharged if they had discovered it.”

“What?”

Tears slip from your eyes as you whisper, “I was pregnant.”

All the air is sucked from Mickey’s lungs. He feels like he’s doing barrel rolls in his jet as the world spins around him and an immense pressure weighs on his chest. “You… you were… what?”

You nod gently. “I had only found out a few days before and I was trying to figure out how to tell you. But then the investigation was brought up and it changed everything. All they had was the word of someone else we were dating, but if they knew I was pregnant with your baby, well, that’s pretty solid evidence. I didn’t know if you wanted kids. Hell, I didn’t even know if I wanted kids. So, I didn’t say anything and they transferred me two days later.”

“How could you not tell me?” Mickey whispers, trying to wrap his head around this life-changing revelation. “I would have been by your side for every minute. We could have figured it out together, we could have found a way to make it work. But even if we couldn’t, I loved you. I wanted to spend my life with you. And if that meant giving up everything else, I would have done it.”

“I know you would have. And that’s why I couldn’t say anything.” You take a few steps towards him. This time, Mickey doesn’t move back, but you still keep a little space between you so you don’t overwhelm him. “I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t let me leave and it would be the end of both our careers. We’d both worked so hard to get where we were, I couldn’t let you throw everything away for a kid I still didn’t know if I even wanted. And by the time I had decided, it was too late to change what I’d done. So, when I reported to Command I was pregnant a few months later, I said it was from a nameless one-night stand I met at a bar right after I transferred.”

Mickey’s head is still reeling from everything you have told him, yet he catches one important detail in what you just said. “Wait. You reported it. Does that mean…did you…do we…?”

“Yeah, Mickey,” you half sob as more tears flow steadily down your face. “We have a son.”

“A son…”

It is the final straw. Stumbling over to the nearby wall, Mickey slides down it until he is sitting on the ground and rests his head on his knees. He has a son. A four- or five-year-old son that he never knew about. Someone who was already walking, and talking, and going to school. Who was his own person with his own personality and likes and dislikes. Who Mickey knows absolutely nothing about.

The two of you had never talked about whether you wanted kids or a family. Until the moment you disappeared, Mickey had never doubted you both loved each other deeply but your relationship had been too complicated by rules and regulations to face what might happen in the future. So, the two of you had lived in the moment and tried to enjoy what time you had together instead of talking about the future. But that didn’t mean Mickey hadn’t thought about it. He had known from a young age he wanted to be a father. He helped take care of his younger siblings growing up and he couldn’t wait to have a family of his own.

So to find out now that he has a child is simultaneously exhilarating and devastating. He could have had everything he had always dreamed of, but you had taken all those early milestones, all those precious irreplaceable moments with his son, and Mickey doesn’t know how to accept that. What if his son never forgives him for not being there? Mickey might not have known he even existed until a few moments ago, but that doesn’t change the fact his son has had to grow up not knowing what it was like to have a father. To have a void in his life where others around him had a loving, supportive presence. Will his son even want him in his life at this point?

He hears you walking over to him and can see your feet stop a few inches from him out of the corner of his eye.

In a voice thick with tears, you whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so incredibly sorry. I just…I didn’t…I didn’t know…” You can’t find the words to finish that sentence.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Mickey raises his head to glare up at you, all of his swirling emotions finding a much-needed target to explode at. “Even if I accept why you let them transfer you or that you didn’t tell me right then, why didn’t you tell me at any point during the last five years! Is it just because I’m here? If I hadn’t come back to Top Gun, would you ever have told me?”

You open your mouth to respond but then close it again as you try to find the best way to answer. “Those are all fair questions. I figured if I told you while I was still pregnant or right after I gave birth, we would still get in trouble. My superiors weren’t happy that I had just transferred to fly with one of their WSOs and this happened but they had to accept it. I flew for another month or two but then I was placed on desk duty until I got this job at Top Gun. I hated being grounded but at least I was someplace consistent where I could go home to my family every night.”

“‘Your family’? Do you mean you…?” Maybe his son has had a father-figure in his life after all.

You seem confused for a moment but as soon as you realize what he is asking, you quickly clarify, “Oh, no, no, no! Nothing like that. My mom moved in a month before I gave birth and stayed so she could watch the kiddo while I was at work.” You duck your head to stare at the ground as you mutter, “But no, there, uh, there hasn’t been anyone like that since you. I’ve got one little man who has my whole heart, and between him and work, I don’t have the time or the energy to spend on anyone else.”

Mickey hates the way his heart warmed slightly at that. He should hate you right now, not be happy that you aren’t with someone. Quickly changing the topic before he lets himself dwell on that for too long, he says, “You still haven’t answered my question. Why now? Why are you telling me about him now?”

“He asked about you.”

“What?”

“Well, not you specifically but he started asking about his dad. He doesn’t understand….” Your voice breaks as your lip begins to quiver. Mickey’s resolve wavers and he starts to reach for your hand but then he remembers the reason you are upset in the first place and lets his hand fall. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “He’s too young to understand and I’m too selfish to admit it’s my fault you’re not there, so I just told him his dad was a Naval aviator like me and he’s off protecting everyone from danger. I was hoping…I don’t know what I was hoping, but it didn’t satisfy him like I thought it would. Two weeks ago, he told me all he wants for his birthday next month is to meet his dad.”

“He…he wants to meet me?” Mickey asks.

You nod. “And I didn’t know what to do. I had no idea where in the world you were, if you had your own family by now, or if you would even want to meet him once you knew. But then a few days ago I saw you were coming here and…it seemed like fate. I knew telling you would be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I couldn’t go home and look into our son’s eyes if I didn’t at least try. That’s why I’m telling you now.”

“So this is just a way for you to clear your conscience?” Mickey asks. “You finally tell me I have a son, and that’s supposed to absolve you of everything? You took nearly five years I could have had with him away from me! I missed out on so many firsts!” Mickey suddenly freezes, all the anger evaporating in an instant as a sober realization sets in. “I still don’t even know his name….”

“Miguel. His name’s Miguel.”

Tears spring to Mickey’s eyes as he whispers, “Miguel?”

You smile at the reverence on Mickey’s face. “It was the only name I ever considered.” Pulling out your phone and tapping the screen a few times, you offer it to him. “It turns out it was perfect. He’s the spitting image of his namesake.”

With shaking hands, Mickey takes the phone from you. Looking down, he sees a little boy staring back at him with a wide grin that’s too big for his face, a mess of dark curly hair, and rich brown eyes that make Mickey feel like he is looking into a mirror. You weren’t far off. Miguel looks almost exactly like the baby photos Mickey had seen of himself at that age. However, he can also see traces of you in the toddler’s face; in the shape of his lips and the cut of his jaw. There’s no way to deny it any longer. This was his kid. Yours and his together.

Watching the waves of emotions washing across his face, you murmur, “I swear, I never wanted to hurt you…either of you. I just didn’t know what to do and then, once I made a decision, I didn’t know how to tell you the truth. The longer I put it off, the more impossible it got to tell you. But you did nothing wrong and I just thought he should have another piece of you to carry with him, even if he doesn’t understand it yet.”

Mickey swipes his finger across the phone and the photo changes to one of you balancing Miguel on your hip as you point towards the camera. He looks younger here but the same joy is evident on his face as he clings to you with one arm and to a ratty-looking Spider-Man plush in the other. Another swipe shows Miguel blowing out a candle on a birthday cake shaped like a Stegosaurus. There is a big “4” balloon floating in the background next to a woman Mickey recognizes as your mother. He swipes again to see a picture of you fast asleep in a rocking chair with an infant Migual curled on your chest. He is so tiny that he could only have been a month or two old. You look disheveled and exhausted even in sleep, yet Mickey doesn’t think he can remember a time you were more breathtaking.

He is about to swipe again when something at the top of the picture stops him. Zooming in closer, he inhales sharply.

There is a small framed drawing hanging on the wall just above Miguel’s crib. It’s of two stick people looking at each other with little hearts above their heads. He doubts a single other person would have ever noticed it, but he would recognize it anywhere. He had doodled it on a note he slipped you right after his friendship with you had developed into a romance. And you had kept it all of these years then hung it so it would watch over your son.

Tears that have been threatening to fall finally crest over his eyes as Mickey chokes out, “Can I meet him?”

“You really want to?”

He nods before tearing his eyes from the phone to look up at you. “Yeah. More than anything.”

“Okay, then yeah, of course you can,” you say eagerly as your face lights up. But then it dims slightly as you add, “But, um, I think it’s better if we wait just a few days.” Mickey starts to protest but you hold up your hand. “I know I’ve already made you wait far too long for this, but we need to figure out some things first and I’m sure once you’ve had time to process everything, you’ll have a million questions. I just want you to be as prepared for this as possible so you both feel comfortable. It’s a big deal and Miguel is the sweetest kid you’ll ever meet, but he is pretty shy around new people and I don’t want to just spring this on him without talking to him first.”

Mickey can’t help smiling to himself. He was the exact same way when he was little. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I already have a thousand questions and I’m sure by tomorrow, I’ll have a thousand more. How ‘bout we say Friday after training? I could come over or meet you guys somewhere or whatever you think is best.”

You hesitate for a minute. “I have an appointment Friday afternoon and I’m not sure how long it’ll last. Why don’t we do Saturday morning? We could meet for pancakes. That’ll definitely get you on Miguel’s good side.”

“Pancakes it is.” Mickey climbs to his feet and holds out your phone to you. But just as you are about to take it, he pulls it back slightly. “Um…do you think…could you send me some photos of Miguel?”

Smiling softly, you say, “Of course, Mickey. As many as you want. And I have some videos too. Do you still have the same number?”

“You still have it saved?” Mickey asks in surprise.

You duck your head. “I couldn’t delete it. I stared at it countless nights with my finger hovering over the call button, but I always chickened out. However, I knew one day I’d find the strength to tell you everything, and when that happened, I’d need a way to contact you so I kept it. I’m still just so sorry it took me this long.”

Mickey sighs as he stares off across the open tarmac. “Part of me gets it, you know? It was a no-win situation given the circumstances.”

“Yeah…” you mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself once again. “I felt like I was in my own personal Kobayashi Maru except no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out how to cheat the system.”

Oh God. The ease at which that perfect Star Trek metaphor slips from your lips once again has Mickey flashing back to all the little reasons he fell in love with you in the first place. However, after the secrets you revealed today, he can’t let himself fall back into what was.

“That might be true, but another part of me doesn’t know if I can ever forgive you for stealing these last five years I could have had with my son.” He scrubs his hand over his closely buzzed hair. “Right now, I just don’t know how to feel about you or what you did. However, I do know that I can be pleasant and get along when we’re around Miguel, though I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get back to a point where we’re friends again.”

You bob your head, tears dampening your eyes even as a small smile spreads across your face. “That’s fair. That’s more than fair. Honestly, I half expected you never to want to see me again after I told you, so I’ll take pleasant. Thank you, Mickey.”

He nods and holds out your phone. As you take it, your fingers brush against his and Mickey feels a jolt run up his arm as he touches you for the first time in almost six years. And based on the way your eyes widened, you felt it too. The two of you gaze at each other, your hands still both holding the phone between you. Mickey feels his heart start to race slightly in his chest, and he wonders if maybe he’s wrong and forgiving you won’t be as difficult as he thinks it is.

But then you pull the phone from his hand and slip it into your pocket. Taking a few steps back, you mutter, “I’ll send you those pictures. And please do text me any questions you have this week. Otherwise, I’ll call you Friday to figure out the details for breakfast Saturday.”

And with that, you pivot and hurry across the tarmac before disappearing into one of the hangars.

For several minutes, Mickey continues to stare at where you had been standing, still half wondering if anything that just happened was real or not. He always knew returning to Top Gun would be life-changing, but he had never expected this in a million years.

Still in a daze, he stumbles off towards the hangar where his plane is housed. As he approaches, he sees Payback already dressed in his flight suit and busy checking out the plane. He looks up when he hears Mickey approaching.

“Hey, there you are. I thought you were just gonna be a minute.” As he gets closer, Payback does a double-take when he notices Mickey’s face. “Oh, man, are you okay?”

Mickey is still wondering that himself, but he says, “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

As Mickey walks past him to put his stuff in his locker and pull out his flight suit, Payback follows him, concern etched across his face. “Dude, you’re a mess.”

“I’m not a mess.”

“Yeah, you are. You look like you’re about to pass out and I can tell you’ve been crying.”

“Yeah, guess I have.” Just then, Mickey’s phone vibrates and he pulls it out to see you have sent him a link to a folder filled with hundreds of pictures and videos of Miguel. Just a brief scan of them makes tears begin to well up in his eyes once more. But when he looks back up at Payback, the smile on his face is so wide it hurts. “But it’s all good. In fact… It’s never been better.”

I have a few ideas for other parts if anyone is interested (but no promises at this point)

Taglist: @green-socks, @lorecraft, @heart-0n-fire, @mayhem24-7forever, @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @airhogger, @piscesvancouverite, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @callsign-phoenix, @shanimallina87, @forever-sleepy-sloth, @blue-aconite, @notroosterbradshaw, @dezthegeek, @blessupblessup, @cherrycola27, @phoenix1389, @nicangelinee, @smells-like-perfect-senses, @boringusername3, @petlaufeyson, @cycbaby, @topguncortez, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @writercole, @onebigfangirlworld, @wkndwlff, @ravenmoore14, @roosterforme, @clancycucumber230, @mamachasesmayhem, @slightly-psycho-multifan, @kmc1989, @ohtobeleah, @deppresseddyslexic, @horneybeach1, @mandylove1000, @aczhang777

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whumpslist · 10 months

Text

The Lincoln Lawyer 2.05 episode "Suspicious Minds"

Character: Mickey Haller, portrayed by Manuel Garcia-Rulfo

Type of whumps: ambushed, brutally beaten, punched and kicked repeatedly, arm broken, knocked out and left unconscious on the floor, fate unknown.

(video source: ©Net.flix)

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topgunruinedme · 1 year

Text

Less than Achievable||o.5

Synopsis: The time Jake was finally shown he meant something to someone's

read on ao3

Previous Chapter - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.

Next Chapter - coming soon!

Tag list: @luckyladycreator2

The slow descent of the sun from the sky washed through the room, the yellow rays slowly turning orange before fading as the sun started to drop from the sky. The overhead lights in the room worked double time to provide full coverage.

As the hours dragged on, their hope faded. No progress had been made.

Javy was slumped over the table, his hands braced on the edge as his head hung limply between his curled shoulder. He was beyond tired, but Jake would be too. He couldn’t stop, not while knowing Jake was counting on him to find him.

His hands were trembling slightly and he gripped the table harder to try to fend them off. His breath shuttered and his chest felt like it was tightening as his water line became heavier. The heavy wave of emotions were crashing over him as he attempted to stay afloat. Guilt, grief, longing, panic, fear.

His head felt like it was buzzing, loud and obnoxious. But also foggy and he struggled to focus. He felt dizzy, like the world was tilting, despite knowing that he was standing up straight.

Vertigo hit him as he attempted to swallow. His throat seized and closed, it felt like there was something in it. A lump, he was choking. Grief suffocated him as he attempted to breath, it was thick in the air. His lungs spasmed and his heart started to race as he silently choked unnoticed by those around him. His lungs burning as sweat started to build up on his brow.

While there were far less people in the room then previously he still wasn’t fond on letting his guard down to let himself grieve.

While the room had been cleared out significantly once Admiral Kazansky had dismissed them, only holding back those who flew the mission. Javy still wasn't fond of the idea of letting his guard down to let himself process and think clearly.

To let himself become vulnerable around anyone who wasn't his family, those who hadn’t picked a side where it was so awfully clear who was against him.

The room was spacious leaving Rooster lounging on the desk tables. The man didn't seem to have a care in the world, twitching every so often but he assumed it was the adrenaline crash finally hitting.

Maverick was leaning against the wall as he sipp ed his coffee with ‘Hondo’. The man shifting periodically wincing his hand absently trailing up to his still sore ribs. The man had been stupid to attempt to teach them while recovering from an ejection.

Phoenix was sitting alone a few seats across from Rooster, despite taking his side the man paid no attention to her. Ignoring her in hope of getting some sleep, the man looked relaxed, his eyes closed as she frowned at him. Oblivious to the world.

She was clearly put off by the fact her WSO had left her.

Bob has retreated to a seat between Fanboy and Payback, having been passed off to the pair after Halo and Omaha had been forced to leave. They had received two strict looks and stern words on keeping the bewildered man safe. Halo placed a kiss on Bob’s forehead and Omaha threw him a gentle grin rubbing his hair as he passed.

Leaving him to sit between two men he had only talked to briefly, during their training outside the football game and the night they all met at Hard Deck.

They hadn’t realized until now how much Phoenix and Rooster had been hogging the young man. Fanboy and Payback sat on either side of the man to protect him from the fierce woman who would turn occasionally in an attempt to catch the shy man's gaze.

They all knew Bob was shy, they had learned that very quickly that first night. The problem was they hadn't realized how shy Bob was.

The man stumbled and stuttered over almost every word that came out of his mouth. He looked like he regretted even opening his mouth, adding his opinion to the discussion as soon as he attempted to talk. Keeping his head down, his hand twisting with the sleeve of his flight suit.

Javy lifted his head briefly to send the man a concerned look. He could see the slight frown on Paybacks lips, as he watched Fanboy and Bob conversed slowly about some try of intergalactic space movie. His arm swung over the back of Bob’s chair protectively not touching the man but leaving it there for peace of mind. Payback eyes met his and they shared the same thought.

Why was he this shy? Had he not talked to them enough to get over it? It had been 3 weeks.

Had Bob been struggling this entire time to talk to them all?

Very slowly over time the stuttering became less frequent. Bob raised his head pushing his glasses further back on his nose, smiling softly at something Payback muttered.

To their surprise the quiet spoken man was quite funny, he had an odd sense of humor. He had fire, claws, and passion.

Jake would have loved to get to know him. Will love.

It would be a pleasant surprise for the man when he got home .

He swallowed hard ignoring the burning in his chest as he breathed deeply attempting to keep his body somewhat controlled.

Attempting to breath fresh air and avoiding being consumed in the sharp guilt of having to correct himself.

Jake was alive. He had to be.

Admiral Bates and Simpson had since joined them. Both brining in their own data and any audio recordings from the flight log that they may need. Neither man bothered to defuse the tension in the room. Instead got straight to work trying to find their missing soldier, instead of assuming the popular opinion and simply marking the man with death.

Neither man seemed bothered that he was a lieutenant as they talked strategy, including him as if he was the same rank. They didn't seem to care that he was far too close to this mission for it not to be classed as tampering or mis-conduct. But then again, perhaps they were all far too close to it.

“You can’t go through there, they would have bogeys in the air by now. There would be no way of getting a chopper in the air without air support until morning at least” Simpson sighed wearily as he pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Simpson had a bulk of the files laid out on the table in front of him, most of them were open. He had commandeered the end of the table to spread out his notes. The Admiral had made it his job to cross reference all their data, collecting enough to attempt to recreate Jakes crash and determine his survival rates.

Unlike Simpson, Bates had a pair of headphones on. He was sitting at the table in between the Iceman and Simpson, a computer in front of him with a silver flash drive that didn't look like the Navy standard. Slowly making his way through all the audio from the mission, going through them all separately as he dotted down notes.

Kazansky had different types of maps laid out in front of him, he was on the other end of the table taking up the stare space filling the void with multiple overlapping maps. They were all covered in different colored markers. it was covered in marks, crosses and different sections shaded off the map. Green shaded areas were failed landings, Orange marks were fatal landings. Purple crosses were possible survivable landings and the black shaded areas were not possible, they were too far away from the last beacon location therefore being crossed off the search area.

Unfortunately there were far more green and orange markings then there were purple.

Dread started to build, weighing heavy in his stomach.

The ensign had surprisingly stayed with them, shifting in and out of the room quietly. Picking up on the Admiral’s dismissal of the others in the room and ignoring them, instead spending his time fetching those working food and drinks.

Javy had been surprised the first time it happened, the ensign scribbling down the coffees onto his pad before turning to him, “Coffee sir?”.

Offering him the same curtsey's as the Admirals a s if they were not their observing the encounter. He had realized that the man would stop to ask for his own, having been so used to ensigns running in and out of rooms to fetch drinks for admirals like they were secretaries.

He had been stumped. He saw the amused twitch of Cyclone's lip as the man continued to run through battle strategies with Kazansky. Cyclone had moved towards the Iceman with a notebook filled with slanted handwriting, explaining which equation when with which color on the map.

He managed to croak out, “A white coffee, 3 spoons of sugar , 1/4 almond milk” he rattled off the order without thinking.

The ensign frowned slightly, taking care to write it down before leaving. He froze staring at the spot the man had been, he hadn’t even thought about it. It had come instinctively.

That was Jake's order, the man always managed to pick the oddest orders out of every place they went. Javy had long ago memorized all of Jake's odd orders so he could grab the man something while he was busy. Jake tended to work himself into the ground while he hyper-fixated on something, so coffee was sometimes the only thing he could get something into the man all day.

Bates moved around the man coming to his side where he was staring at the unmoving E-stat. The man placed an open book in front of him distracting him from his own downfall, forcing himself to stand tall.

Forcing him to steal himself and get ready for war. Because this sure as hell wasn't going to be easy.

Moving his tense muscles until they becom e less rusted and moved smoother, he had to keep going.

For Jake.

Rooster had been relatively silent for the most part, they had not been dismissed by any of the Admiral’s so they had been forced to remain silent. The man sat up from the desk, swinging his legs to the side to move off the desk to drop into the chair. He slumps over slightly his elbows resting on the table as he leaned forward, his hand coming up to brush his hair back in frustration. Phoenix looked over at him with furrowed brows.

“He won’t be waiting,” Rooster said, his head hanging between his bowed shoulder, “If he's alive I mean” he finished weakly from his position slumped in the chair.

His stance was emitting far too much guilt, phoenix eyes narrowed on her best friend, the man she had spent the last 10 years learning to read like a book.

No, no, no, no.

“What did you do” she whispered in growing horror, it clutched at her chest tightly as Bradley showed remorse. “What did you say to him!”

Sure she wasn't a fan of the prick, Seresin was arrogant, impulsive and picked a fight with everyone. But if Bradshaw was saying what she thought he was…

“I told him that if anything happened while we were on the mission. That we would leave him there”.

“What the hell is wrong with you!” Fanboy exploded, launching himself up from his chair almost climbing over Bob to get to the man. Phoenix was gritting her teeth looking at her best friend with an unsheltered expression of horror and disgust.

Oh god. Javy chest clenched and his lungs felt like they were collapsing. The panic he had shoved down earlier came back at full force almost knocking him off his feet.

Cyclone's teeth were gritted and it was obvious that Warlock's grip on his arm was the only thing stopping the man from taking a bite out of the lieutenant.

A heavy hand landed on Javy’s shoulder. He hardly registered it in his panic, not until it started squeezing and releasing to a familiar beat.

Squeeze, release, squeeze, release...squeeze.

Rock and roll in my soul, got me losin' control.

He could remember Jake's pleased grin as he pulled Javy out of his seat, pulling him into his chest into a mock dancing position. Belting ‘slow ride’ off the top of his lungs in their little off base apartment, they had gotten together once they got out of the academy.

He remembered singing along with the man so loud that the neighbors pounded on the walls in complaint.

Squeeze release squeeze..

He ripped himself away from his panic to look at the man. Iceman was frowning down at him in concern, silently nodding his head towards the door. Practically leading him out the door as Javy followed the slight pressure the man provided on his shoulder.

He felt like he couldn't breathe.

He never wanted to breathe again, not without Jake to share it with.

He didn't want his heart to beat another beat, without being able to press his ear against the older man's chest and listen to their hearts beat in sync.

His heart clenched at each heavily beat it let out - torn from its brother - left alone, abandoned.

Mentally he was standing in front of two hole’s in the ground. One was Jake’s, the other hole was empty.

He stood at the edge, looking down on Jakes complementing one little nudge. That little step that would bring him close to his brother again.

To curl up next to him and wait until he could open his eyes again and see the man smile back.

Iceman pulled him away from the classroom and into the silent hall that muffled the arguing inside.

Iceman’s eyes were full of understanding, “Javy” he muttered quietly and Javy's throat closed up. Tear's rushed to his eyes and his jaw trembled, as his heart broke that little bit more.

Because he finally understood.

Iceman wasn't here because Jake was missing. No.

He wasn't here to find him. He was here, because he promised Jake something if he didn't come back.

Iceman’s grip on his shoulder was grounding. Comforting as he tugged the younger man forward into his chest, wrapping his arms around him letting him break down sobbing into his chest. Gripping him tightly, that there was without a doubt he had ruined the Admiral’s uniform. He held onto him like he was a lifeline.

He finally understood, even in Jake's last moments. He had made Iceman promise.

Promise that someone would be there for him, Javy. For his brother, should he not come back.

He finally understood. Why it was never mentioned that he may have to explain Jake's status to an Admiral.

Because it never needed explaining, Iceman wasn't here for Jake.

He was here for him.

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make-me-imagine · 2 years

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Top Gun Masterlist

(Main Masterlist)

If you notice any missing or incorrect links, let me know~

A/Ns: All fics are GN!Reader unless stated otherwise. Fics for the character Maverick are divided between which movie the fic takes place in/around.

Top Gun (1986)

Multiple Characters:

Scenario Match-Up Game

Christmas Scenario Game

Valentines Scenario Game

Headcanons: First Date + First Kiss- Part One (fluff/romantic) *Iceman, Maverick

Incorrect Quotes

Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky:

Headcanons/Preferences:

'Iceman with an s/o who is always cold' (cute/gen)

First Date + First Kiss (fluff/romantic)

Fics/Oneshots:

'The Future Awaits' (cute/humor/fluff)

'Expectations' (angst/comfort)

'Better Late Than Never' (angst/idiots to lovers)

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell

Fic: 'Perspective' (fluff/bit of angst/humor)

Headcanons:

First Date + First Kiss (fluff/romantic)

Anniversaries with Maverick (cute/fluff/romantic)

--------

Top Gun: Maverick (2022)

Multiple Characters:

Scenario Match-Up Game

Christmas Scenario Game

Valentines Scenario Game

Headcanons: First Date + First Kiss - Part One (fluff/romantic) *Hangman, Rooster

Headcanons: First Date + First Kiss - Part Two (fluff/romantic) *Fanboy, Bob, Phoenix, Coyote

Incorrect Quotes

Secret Santa (Choose Your Own Character Ending) *Possible Endings: Bob, Fanboy, Hangman, Rooster & Maverick

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Headcanons: First Date + First Kiss (fluff/romantic)

Fics/Oneshots:

'Just Don't Go' (whump/angst/fluff)

Secret Santa: Part One (suspense/mild Christmas) Maverick's Ending (fluff/romantic)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Headcanons: First Date + First Kiss (fluff/romantic)

Ship Drabble: 'Marriage Proposal' (cute/fluff)

Fics/Oneshots:

'Torture' (fluff)

'About Damn Time' (fluff/idiots to lovers)

'Stranded' (suspense/spooky/halloween)

Secret Santa: Part One (suspense/mild Christmas) Rooster's Ending (fluff/cute)

'Love is Stored in Post-It Notes' (fluff/Valentines Day)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Headcanons: First Date + First Kiss (fluff/romantic)

Fics/Oneshots:

'Drunken Confessions, Sober Reminders' (humor/fluff)

'Home To Me' (cute/fluff)

'He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not' (angst/slow-burn/fluff)

'What Happens in the Haunted House...' (fun/fluff/halloween)

Secret Santa: Part One (suspense/mild Christmas) Hangman's Ending (romantic/cute)

'In Your Dreams' (fluff/slight angst/valentines day)

'Scaredy Cat' (cute/fluff/crack)

Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

Headcanons: First Date + First Kiss (fluff/romantic)

Fics/Oneshots:

'Halloween Party' (fun/fluff/halloween)

Secret Santa: Part One (suspense/mild Christmas) Fanboy's Ending (cute/fluff)

'Comfort of Home' (comfort/fluff)

Robert "Bob" Floyd

Headcanons: First Date + First Kiss (fluff/romantic)

Mood Board: Bob Floyd x Cottagecore

Fics/Oneshots:

Secret Santa: Part One (suspense/mild Christmas) Bob's Ending (cute/fluff)

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Headcanons: First Date + First Kiss (fluff/romantic)

Javy "Coyote" Machado

Headcanons: First Date + First Kiss (fluff/romantic)

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petcr3 · 1 year

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petcr3’s RomCom Party! { a Valentine’s Day event }

Whether you’re celebrating Valentine’s with friends, a significant other, by yourself, or not at all, there’s one thing no one can resist… a good ol’ romantic comedy!

So to celebrate V-Day, I’m hosting a movie party! Send in the movie titles, guests, and snacks that correlate to your favorite tropes, characters, and extra flair! Feel free to be specific in what you’re looking for or let me take the reins! You can make a whole movie marathon or just come for the snacks, it’s up to you! While I can’t guarantee I’ll get to everything (and I’ll definitely be working on this stuff past February 14th) I’m really excited to be taking requests again!

Check out the options below!

The Guest List (aka who I’m accepting prompts for)

Top Gun: Maverick - Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw, Reuben “Payback” Fitch, Robert “Bob” Floyd, Mickey “Fanboy” Garcia, Javy “Coyote” Machado, Jake “Hangman” Seresin, and Natasha “Phoenix” Trace

Leverage - Tara Cole, Sophie Devereaux, Alec Hardison, Parker, Eliot Spencer

Stranger Things - Jonathon Byers, Robin Buckley, Chrissy Cunningham, Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Nancy Wheeler

The Amazing Spider-Man - Peter Parker (as played by Andrew Garfield), Gwen Stacy

Movies (aka tropes, scenarios, etc)

How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days - Dating based on a bet! Specify whether you’d prefer the reader or the love interest to be the one making the bet. Otherwise, dealer’s choice!

13 Going on 30 - Childhood friends/Friends to lovers, perhaps a la the girl/boy/person next door trope!

Say Anything - Grand romantic gestures! Can be for any reason; specify if you like! Maybe a character wants to apologize or someone needs cheering up. Maybe even a love confession!

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World - This one’s all about exes. That could mean exes to lovers, a run in with an ex while out with a partner, or just a simple dating history conversation. If you feel called to, get creative!

Sleepless in Seattle - Anything long distance/related to being apart!

You’ve Got Mail - Enemies/rivals/frenemies to lovers!

Bridget Jones’s Diary - Love triangle or two (or more!) characters competing for someone’s heart!

My Best Friend’s Wedding - Love is in the air… somebody’s getting married! Who knows what could happen? Meet cutes, objections, love confessions, or whatever your heart desires!

No Strings Attached - When friends with benefits become something more!

The Proposal - All things fake dating! Green card marriages, making someone jealous, helping out a stranger at a bar, placating the family… it’s all on the table!

He’s Just Not That Into You - Not so unrequited love! Mutual pining, idiots to lovers, etc.

Never Been Kissed - This one’s for firsts! First kiss, first time, first date, first relationship! Can be a one-sided first (ie, character A’s first kiss ever) a mutual first (both characters have never had a serious relationship before) or a together first (first time the characters have been together).

It Happened One Night - Road trip! Is this a romantic getaway? Is someone running from a bad breakup? Is this just a fun drive between friends that blossoms into something more? You decide!

Snacks (aka extra plot elements/details)

Candy Hearts: a love confession occurs!

Chocolate Covered Strawberries: the story takes place on Valentine’s Day!

Popcorn: the characters sing karaoke (or sing along to any kind of accompaniment)

Pop Rocks: the characters fight! (And then make up because I said so)

Cotton Candy: any kind of hurt/comfort, whether it be emotional or of the whump variety

Bonus (aka flavor of fic)

Musical - Song Fic! Either choose a song or I’ll pick one that I think fits the vibe of your choices!

Rated R - Things get a little heated… (it’s smut)

Sequel - What it says on the tin! A sequel to a previous prompt reply!

Happy Valentine’s Day everybody! I can’t wait for you to join the party! 💘

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ao3feed-chicagofire · 1 year

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Requests Open!!

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/TGyVLlW

by pullmanlv_44

I will take requests for any of these fandoms and characters.

Words: 134, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Top Gun (Movies), Outer Range (TV), Outer Banks (TV), Chicago Med, Chicago PD (TV), Chicago Fire, Panic (TV 2021)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Characters: Robert "Bob" Floyd, Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Reuben "Payback" Fitch, Nick "Goose" Bradshaw, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky, Will Halstead, Jay Halstead, Natalie Manning, Connor Rhodes (Chicago Med), Kim Burgess, Adam Ruzek, Sarah Reese, Christopher Herrmann, Joe Cruz (Chicago Fire), Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz, Kelly Severide, Hailey Upton, Stella Kidd, Clint Barton, Peter Parker, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Peter Quill, Gamora (Marvel), Steve Rogers, JJ Maybank, Kiara "Kie" Carrera, Rafe Cameron, Topper (Outer Banks), Dodge Mason, Ray Hall (Panic TV), Heather Nill, Tyler Young (Panic TV)

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Injury, Whump, Fluff

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/TGyVLlW

#chicago fire #chicago fire fanfic #ao3feed #fanfic

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ohtobeleah · 6 months

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Never Good Enough // Mickey Garcia

Summary: 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?

Warnings: Left Behind trope. Spooky dream vibes. Depressed Mickey. F-18 crash.

Author Note: Day Nineteen of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Left Behind. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Honey, I think you might be reading into this a little more than you should be.” Mickey Garcia could be described by a lot of people as a lot of different things. He could be described by his colleagues as a genuine soul whose love for aviators made excelling in his career easy. His friend could say that he had one of the most endemic memories to date– holding a plethora of knowledge about star wars, star trek and battle star galactica, basically any and all shows and movies that end in the word star at the tip of his tongue.

Fanboy is a team player, he thrives off the people he chooses to surround himself with. He’s a social butterfly who goes from person to person through the night collecting stories and making memories laced in drunken hazes or sober serenity. He could be described as a compassionate person who goes above and beyond for the people in his life. 2

But most importantly, his wife, Y/n, could describe Mickey as a life partner who consistently shows that he is one of the best people you could ever know. He knows how to crack a joke at the right moment and lighten any mood you might find yourself in. His love for his passions and career and his wife surfaces any kind of love anyone had ever seen.

Because Mickey Fanboy Garcia is good people. Simply put– he’s the best kind of person you want on your team.

But despite all that, despite all the kind and gracious things people say about him–Fanboy couldn't feel any further from it.

“But I'm not.” It was the way your husband said it that made you question if you were the one who wasn't taking his concerns as seriously as you should be. Mickey stood in the shower with his head under the warmth of the running water, hiding his tears as the muscles in his back clenched in anger. “Payback was my longest standing front seater, everyone leaves.”

You knew it was hard on your husband to say goodbye to people who he trusted with his life. You could remember the last time Mickey was separated from his front seater. Erin was a dear friend, but you hadn’t seen her in a few years.

“Everyone always ends up leaving me and I don't know what to do with myself.” You had a feeling this could have been about more than just Payback's new posting. There was an underlying tone of self sorrow that you picked up on as you turned around to face your husband as he showered. As you let out a soft but audible sigh, you knew that there had to be more. “Six months–six months is the longest I've had a front seater for and you wanna stand here and tell me I'm not the problem?”

You and Mickey didn’t argue an awful lot, again, he was as kind as kind could be. But he was struggling, he had concocted this ideology in his mind that everyone around him, all his friends, his family, you, we’re going to leave. Abandon him sooner or later.

And it didn’t help that you and Mickey had been working so much as of late that your conflicting schedules were beginning to take a toll on your ability to communicate properly.

“I don’t think it's you babe–” You began as you made your way over to the shower door. The fog from the shower made the glass its home as you pushed it open, watching as your husband's muscles tightened at your response. But you persisted, hesitantly. “Erin, Reuban, even the guys before like Luke and Mitch, they were either stationed out or just got caught up in the reshuffle, I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with you.”

Mickey Garcia was genuinely the best person you knew. So when he turned around with veins popping in his neck from frustration, you didn't know how to process the way his tone echoed off the walls around you. It didn't sound like your husband, the man you loved so dearly. The man who was usually the level headed, logical partner out of the two of you.

“Y/n, just stop.” You had to pause and take a minute to register what was going on. “You've been working nights, weekends, hell you've even been working my days off– I know somethings going on.” You really had to hold your tongue as Mickey let loose. You knew it was coming from a place of anger and frustration, but regardless it was missguided, it wasn't appreciated, and it certainly could have been handled in a better way. “If you’re gonna leave too, just fucking do it.”

Your husband never swore at you the way he just had. Mickey wasn’t himself, you couldn’t recognise the sadness in his eyes. The pain behind his tears. He was crumbling under the weight of being left behind over and over and over again by the people who mattered most.

“You think I’d leave you?” You had to make sure you had all the dots connected before you decided to let your frustration run wild. “You think that because the people you work with change and that I’ve taken on a bigger role in the company that I’d leave you?”

“Everyone leaves me!!” Mickey finally snapped as he ran his hands through his wet, dark brown locks. Completely soaked and clinging to his scalp and neck. “Everyone—so yeah, with the track record I’ve got going babe I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before you decide I’m not good enough for you either!” You stood there completely speechless, in all the years you had known your husband you had never seen him so broken, so full of self doubt and self loathing that he had begun to take it out on you. “I’m not good enough—“ But then, the gentle stream of tears turned into someone more violent and all consuming.

“Honey—“ You cooed as you watched your husband shake his head as painful sobs ripped through his chest. The walls were all closing in on him. Those shoulders of his that you thought could have carried the weight of the world, slumped in utter defeat and soon enough—Mickey Fanboy Garcia was on his knees under the warm stream of water, crying out for someone to stay with him. “Oh Mick, honey.”

“Everyone always leaves.” It came out like a mantra, the voices inside his mind wouldn’t stop. “You’ll leave too, and I’ll be all alone and I don’t know what I keep doing wrong.” You had to do something, consol your husband so that he knew he wasn’t alone. He had his demons but you were there to fend them off, like a knight in shining armor.

As Mickey kneeled under the warm stream, crying into the palms of his hands, you stripped off your clothes. Articles laid strewn across the bathroom floor haphazardly as you stepped into the shower and kneeled with your husband.

But you can't control a nightmare that isn't yours, and you can't decide what happens next in someone else's dreams.

It was only then did the nightmare Mickey thought he was already living turn into an all out hellscape. Your touch, usually so warm and comforting, was as cold as ice. So cold it damn near burned his cheeks. When Mickey looked up to meet your gaze he saw nothing but dark eyes that allowed him to peer into your soul. Nothing remained but a darkness so unholy that it made him jump about three feet away from you into the glass of the shower.

“We all left you Fanboy.” It wasn’t your voice anymore, but Paybacks. “Wake up!” It was your body, but your voice had been contorted into something straight from hell.

Mickey cried as you crawled towards him, he cowered in the corner of the shower as you cornered him in, trapping him without any kind of defense as you chuckled and smirked—the corners of your lips exaggerated to the point it looked as if your lips had been pinned to your cheeks.

“Wake up, don’t you smell the burning fuel?”

In that very moment Mickey gasped as the overwhelming smell of burning jet fuel choked his airways. Suddenly he wasn’t in the shower anymore—he was in the snowy pine fields laying on his back looking up at the clouds above.

“Y/n?” He moaned as he rolled over, still coughing and splattering as he tried to gather his bearings. What had happened? Where was he? Oh. The mission. “Payback?”

Groaning as he rose to his knees, Mickey took his helmet off and looked around the burning rubble and debris from the F-18 he’d just been in. Parts laid sprawled over the snowy field as small pockets of fire burned the twisted chunks of aluminum and carbon fiber.

The more he looked the more he came to terms with what had happened. It was a surface to air missile.

“PAYBACK!?” Mickey shouted as he stumbled weakly to his feet, coughing up blood as he did so from his prominent injuries. How was he even alive? “REUBEN!?” His throat was cut up. Torn apart from shouting and yelling at the top of his lungs as he walked and walked and walked through the forest to try and find his front seater.

A panic deep inside him began to bubble over when Mickey realised that his biggest fear was coming to fruition. And when he heard the helicopter buzzing not too far from where he stood he knew that he was being left behind, he knew he was going to be left behind to die alone.

“HEY!” He shouted as he ran as fast as he could, sprinting through the thick covering of snow as he saw Payback being hoisted into the air. “I'M HERE! WAIT!”

No one could see him, no one could hear him. All Mickey could think about was you, his beautiful wife, being left to stamp his wing into his coffin.

“PLEASE! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!”

But it was all to no avail, the rescue helicopter turned around and began to fly away. In the opposite direction from where Mickey stood. And his biggest fears came true.

Mickey Fanboy Garcia wasn’t good enough to be saved. He wasn’t good enough to not be left behind, and he certainly wasn’t going to be rescued.

He’d been left behind.

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

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

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #mickey garcia #mickey fanboy garcia #mickey garcia angst #mickey garcia whump

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sarahsmi13s · 6 months

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Parasocial

whumptober day 25: stalked

pairing: mickey 'fanboy' garcia x youtuber!reader

characters: mickey garcia, fem!reader, reader's ex

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, stalking, blood, threatening, violence, toxic ex, assumptions of abuse, please let me know if I missed any

word count: ~3.1k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

i'm so so sorry for how late this is

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary: parasocial -> one-sided relationships, where one person extends emotional energy, interest and time, and the other party, the persona, is completely unaware of the other's existence. most parasocial relationships aren't violent... until they are...

Mickey smiled at you as you both sat in front of your camera as you read the live chat.

You looked over your shoulder at him, “You ready?” “As ever.” You grinned and turned back to your camera.

“Hi my darlings! Today I’m here with my boyfriend,” you beamed at the camera as he settled in his gaming chair next to you.

“Today we are playing Five Nights at Freddy’s… again. Yes, I know we’ve played it before but the DLC for Security Breach came out a while back, however, Mickey was super busy but now we can finally get to it!”

You and Mickey sat next to each other, taking turns in sections of the game and reading the chat.

At one point you were watching Mickey focus as he went through the daycare section, his tongue poking out of his mouth just a little. That portion of the game was quieter and a little calmer, so you were focusing on your boyfriend.

So focused that when your phone went off with a notification from your ring doorbell app.

“Oh!” You yelped as you jumped in your chair. Mickey looked at you and chuckled, “You okay?”

You nodded and grabbed your phone, “Yeah yeah fine. Phone just spooked me.” He hummed and continued as you checked your phone.

Your ring camera had apparently picked up movement at your door.

Tilting your head, you watched the video of the feed.

Your eyes widened in slight fear as you watched a figure in a cap and sunglasses with his hood pulled up walk up onto your porch. He moved around a little and approached your door, but you couldn’t see if he did anything because the door was in the camera’s blind spot.

“Mick…”

He hummed to let you know that he heard you but didn’t look away from the screen.

You reached over and paused the game, “Mickey… look at this.”

This time he looked at you concerned before looking down at your phone and taking it from you to look at the footage.

You watched his face carefully, your trembling fingers tapping against your lips.

Seeing a strange, hooded figure on your porch would freak anyone out. They could be someone scoping out the place to rob, they could simply be someone at the wrong address, you could never be sure.

And that’s what made it horrifying.

Mickey looked at you and then at your camera, “Hey, I need to go check on something, I’ll be right back.”

He got up, taking your phone with him as you turned back to the stream.

You didn’t even look at the chat, knowing that it was blowing up with questions and concerns, theories as to what was happening.

“Everything’s okay guys. Don’t worry about it, let’s just have fun and finish this stream okay?” You tried to muster up a smile despite how scared you actually were.

You took a deep breath and tried to finish the section for Mickey so you could just continue when he got back.

About ten minutes later he came back in, he was holding something as he came over.

Mickey was horrible at hiding facial expressions and emotions, so you knew something was up when you saw both fear and anger on his face. You muted your mic before he spoke.

“Babe, stop the stream.”

His voice was low and serious, so out of character. It was concerning and was setting off alarms in your head. “Y/N, I’m serious. Turn it off.”

You didn’t question him, knowing that unless it was serious, he wouldn’t ask you to stop streaming.

Turning your mic back on, you spoke, “Guys, um, something came up. I’m gonna stop the stream here. Everything’s fine, don’t worry. We just need to take care of some things. See you next time. Turn and burn darlings…”

You ended the stream and turned off your camera before turning to your boyfriend, “What’s wrong?”

Mickey showed you the items in his hands. A note and a photo.

You covered your mouth as you looked at the photo.

It was of your bedroom window, you and Mickey by the window as your arms were draped over his shoulders and his hands on your hips as you kissed.

Neither of you had taken that photo.

With shaking hands, you pulled up the note that came with it.

You gasped and tears filled your eyes as dread and fear shredded your core.

“Do you really think you can get away from me? You know you’re mine… don’t you?”

Mickey sat in the ready room, not actually ready at all to get in his plane with Reuben.

It had been two weeks since the initial incident with the man and his note.

“Hey, Garcia, you okay? You look spaced out over there,” Hangman said from across the way.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just… I’ve got a lot on my mind…” Mickey said as he looked at his hands.

You and Mickey called the police immediately afterwards. You gave them the note and the video of the man on your porch. They said they would do what they could, but with this being a seemingly one off incident, what they could do at the time wasn’t much.

But, over the course of a few days, things got worse.

You had gotten emails and more notes in the mail. Each more threatening and disturbing than the last. Photos were sent to you of you and Mickey, all of them covering Mickey with red spray paint.

When you were both at the grocery store, you were looking over your shoulder constantly. You wouldn’t stray from Mickey’s side. And normally he wouldn’t have minded, but you were genuinely scared for your safety and his safety.

Mickey was frustrated that he couldn’t make it better. He felt awful that he had to leave for work all the time.You were terrified to be home alone and you were scared to stream or even upload videos – afraid that even the slightest movement on your end would tip this guy off.

Your fans had zero idea what was going on, theorizing everything since you announced that due to “personal issues”. Some even theorized that Mickey was abusive after what happened on the stream, but you were so quick to shut that down.

Mickey hated that you hate to take a break from what was essentially your job. You loved what you did and you knew that you were doing what this guy wanted, but you had to protect both yourself and Mickey.

You had actually told Mickey to live on base and stay away from you, but he wasn’t about to do that. He wasn’t about to risk you being vulnerable 24/7.

Mickey rubbed his face before he went to explain but Hondo came in, “Hangman, Fanboy and Payback, you’re up.”

Mickey sighed again and got up.

He just needed to get done here and get home.

You glanced at the clock on the stove. It was 4:45 and you had about 45 minutes to an hour before Mickey got home.

You groaned, rubbing your face before shaking about your hands. You were so tense, so anxious. You were on edge from the moment you woke up to the moment Mickey got home.

And it had been like that for days.

You were getting near daily emails and physical mail as well. You barely left the house and when you did you felt like someone was always watching you. You’d stick to your list, not allowing yourself to check something out that piqued your interest just so you could get back to your home as soon as possible.

But even then you felt anxious cause what if they weren’t following you around the store or around town? What if they took your absence as an opportunity to sneak into your home and then wait for you?

You couldn’t rule it out. Because even though this person had never made physical contact with you beforehand it was clear from the notes and the photos that they knew where you lived and weren’t at all worried about getting close to your home with you in it.

You were scared to leave, but you needed food. You could get them delivered, but what if the delivery person that came to your door was your stalker?

There was no winning in this situation for you.

Every sound you heard was someone trying to hurt you. You were constantly on alert and you were sure you were going to have blood pressure issues by the end of this. You were making yourself sick with worry all the time and you most likely had a stress ulcer from it all.

You just need a distraction.

So with the hour you had until Mickey got home you decided to just start cleaning.

You started in the living room, vacuuming the rug and sweeping the hardwood.

You would have to thank Mickey for suggesting you get a quieter vacuum because at least it helped you to hear everything around you a little better.

Once the floor was done, you moved to the tv stand dusting it off and organizing the movies on it.

You had gotten in the zone, so when the front door opened and made you jump. You quickly checked your phone, seeing that Mickey texted you at 5 pm on the dot that he was off and would be home soon. It was currently 5:30.

Smiling and feeling the tension leave your shoulders a little, you walked over to greet him at the door.

“Hey Honey how was-”

Your phone slipped from your hands and clattered to the floor as you took in the man in front of you.

“Oh hey sweetheart, you miss me?”

This wasn’t your boyfriend.

Your heart starts to race and you can hear your blood rushing in your ears.

You started backing away, reaching behind you to feel your way out but you still bumped into things in your haste to escape.

He slowly followed you, taking bigger steps in order to get you to move faster. “Oh c’mon, Y/N. Why are you crying? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

You hadn’t even noticed your dampened cheeks until he had pointed it out, but it didn’t matter. You were the furthest thing from happy right now.

“No, Ryker, I’m not happy to see you. We broke up 10 years ago. What the hell are you doing here?”

Ryker was your ex-boyfriend from high school. You broke up because you had moved and the long distance attempt was awful. And after you broke up, you realized that some of his behaviors were toxic and controlling.

What you thought was him being protective was actually him snapping at any remotely attractive guy in your class for looking at you. He also would make comments about your outfits all the time. And then when you tried long distance, he insisted on knowing your address and that you send photos of your outfits for him to approve.

You only complied with the second request, but it only lasted for about three weeks before you had to break it off. It was too stressful on you and your friends at this school pointed out how his behaviors were huge red flags.

Back then you wouldn’t have thought so, but with him now standing in front of you after breaking into your home – everything clicked into place.

Ryker kept walking toward you, forcing you to take bigger steps backwards and keep your eyes on him and not turn around to run.

“Fucking leave, Ryker. I will call the police. And Mickey will be home soon so you need to leave and stop whatever shit you’re doing,” your voice was trembling as you blindly grabbed the first throwable item you could get your hand on.

“You know, Y/N-”

In the middle of his statement, you threw the item at him to distract him before running upstairs to get to your room to use the fire escape.

As you scrambled your way up the stairs, you could hear his heavy footsteps behind you.

You just needed to get to your room, and then you could get out and get help.

When you got to your bedroom you shut and locked the door before running over to your fire escape as Ryker banged on the door. “Y/N open the door! Do you really think you can get away from me?!”

You whimpered and tried to get the latch open but it’s stubborn. “C’mon you mother fucker,” you hissed as the rusted latch barely moving. “C’mon c’mon! Come on!” You used your weight and finally the latch popped open.

Unfortunately Ryker was able to kick the door open.

You screamed and tried to push the window up but he was faster and managed to grab you.

Thrashing and kicking, you tried to get free. “Let me go! HELP SOMEONE H–”

As you struggled, Ryker grabbed your hair and slammed your head into the window, shattering the glass. “Stop squirming! I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to!”

With your adrenaline pumping, you grabbed a piece of glass and cut the arm pulling your hair to get him to let go before stabbing the arm holding you by the waist.

“Fucking bitch!” He cursed as he dropped you.

You gasped and immediately ran out of the room and tried to get out through the front door.

But in your haste, you tripped on the last step.

This is straight out of a fucking horror movie, get your shit together, you cursed yourself as you pushed yourself up.

You sprinted to the door, but as you opened it, an arm wrapped around your waist and a hand covered your mouth as you were drug back to the living room and thrown on the ground.

Groaning, you crawled for a little and rolled onto your back before looking up at him as you propped yourself up onto your elbows. “Why are you doing this? We haven’t seen or spoken to each other in 10 years…”

He squatted down, “Oh Y/N… you’re still mine, I have the right to do whatever I want.”

Mickey rushed out of his car when he got home. He was ready to finally be home with you and help you to feel safe.

But he froze when he made it to the porch.

The front door was open just a crack and he could hear shouting from inside.

“I’m not yours Ryker!”

Mickey’s stomach dropped at the fear in your voice, but the voice that followed sent both panic and anger through him.

“I will carve my name into your back if that’s what it takes for you and everyone to know that you are mine! You’ve been mine since we were 16!”

Mickey fumbled with his phone as he dialed 9-1-1 and reported everything as he moved to go inside.

“Lieutenant, you need to stay on the phone with me, okay? There’s a unit not too far from you.” “I’m not leaving her alone with him, I’m going inside.”

“Lieutenant-”

Mickey hung up the phone and ran inside, trying to follow the sound of your voice.

He made it to the living room only to find you sobbing on the floor with Ryker kneeling on your back with your shirt cut open at the top.

“Ryker please stop!”

“They need to know that-”

“Hey!” Mickey shouted, getting Ryker’s attention before tackling him to the ground and knocking the knife away.

With the weight gone off your back you did the first thing you could think of, run.

You pushed yourself up off the floor and sprinted to the front door and out into the yard, falling to the ground as your adrenaline faded. Now all that was running through your mind was that Mickey was alone with your crazy ex...

But you saw a glimmer of hope.

Red and blue lights and sirens came flying down the street, the cop car coming to a screeching stop in front of your house.

All you could do was point towards the door and an officer knelt down next to you, requesting you an ambulance as her partner went inside.

“My-my ex is-is the one with-with longer hair… The one-one with the buzz is my boyfriend…”

She nodded, “My partner will make sure he’s safe okay?”

You nodded and clung to her, sobbing into her shoulder.

It was a few minutes before you saw the other officer come out with Ryker and put him in the squad car.

The officer with you looked at you, “I need to go talk with my partner, I’ll be right over there okay?” You nodded and she got up, leaving you to pick at the grass with shaking hands as you waited for Mickey.

“Y/N? Y/N!”

You inhale sharply and look up to see Mickey running towards you. “Mickey!”

He slid on his knees, pulling you into his arms, “Oh my goodness, I’m so so sorry I wasn’t home. I’m so sorry, mi amor.” He held you close, mumbling things in Spanish and English in your ear.

You pulled him back gently and looked him over as he rambled, seeing some bruises but nothing serious. “Hey hey hey, you were there, Mick. You were there just in time, baby. I’m safe, and we got him. He’s going away,” you cooed gently as you cupped his cheek.

He rested his forehead on yours, “You’re moving in with me.” “Mickey, I can’t do that, you live on base and I can’t be there,” you said quietly. “I’m moving off base.” You furrowed your brow, “W-what?”

Mickey nodded, “I’m moving so we can live together. It’ll be a place off base, but close enough that it’s threatening to anyone wanting to try anything.”

You smiled softly at him, “Oh Mickey…” He kissed your forehead, “And we don’t know if that jackass doxed you or not, so moving is your best bet at being safe.”

“You’re right. But I’ll need somewhere to stay tonight, my house is a crime scene.”

“We’ll figure it out, maybe we could stay with Penny?” You raised a brow, “We?” He nodded, “Yes we, I’m not leaving your side until this is settled. I’ll set up a meeting with Cyclone and Warlock to talk about it. But I’m staying with you.”

You smiled softly at him, “Thank you, Mick.” “Don’t gotta thank me, just let me hold you until we stop shaking,” he said and he squeezed your hips gently. You nodded and let him pull you into his lap.

You buried your face into his neck before tears of relief began falling onto his neck. He shushed you gently and rocked you as you clung to him, keeping you close.

You know that with your job, you were never 100% safe. But right now, you were safe, and that’s what matters.

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ohtobeleah · 8 months

Text

Bruises // Jake Seresin

Chapter Two: [Tactile Takedown]

Summary: When a missile is headed right for Roosters F-18, Jake makes a decision that could end up costing you your life.

Series Warnings: Heavy themes of violence, sexual assault, torture. 18+ content. Minors DNI. Mature themes. Being held in captivity. Hostage style situation. Main character death! Whump, Angst. Conversations that discuss antisocial & antisemitism views.

Word Count: 4.4k

Author Note: THIS SERIES IS CONFRONTING, FICTIONAL, AND DEPICTS IMAGES OF TORTURE. DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT IF YOU BELIEVE THAT THIS SERIES WILL BE DETRIMENTAL TO YOUR MENTAL STABILITY. CURATE YOUR OWN TIMELINE.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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Tuesday - April 18th 2023. D-day.

“How you doing back there Hollywood?” Jake asked as you settled into a steady climb, You’d just taken off from the carrier that had taken you out into the middle of nowhere to complete a mission that seemed somewhat impossible. But you were told these guys were the best of the best, that they don't get any better than the Daggers. An elite group of Naval Aviators who had completed some of the most insane covert operations you'd been blessed to read about. “How's my radar looking?”

And now? Well–now you were one of them.

“Radars clean Hangman.” You confirmed all the while trying to calm the pit of nervousness in your stomach. “Recommend increasing to three hundred knots, you've got Dagger Two approaching at around ten o'clock closure.”

“Confirmed.” Jake replied as he pushed up on his throttle, it sent your head into the back of your chair a little from the force of gravity changing around you. “Increasing speed, Rooster you still with me?” It was just the three of you, Rooster, Hangman and yourself. A small yet tactile team of experienced and highly trained naval aviators sent it to disable a rogue insurgent group that was making far too much noise for the United States navy to ignore.

The mission? Dismantle what Nav-Con believed to be one of the two main insurgent camps situated in the middle of a communication desert. With one highly explosive missile and two of the best air to air combat pilots the navy had ever seen, you were tasked with getting in through a valley that had been similar terrain to a mission Bradley had flown a few years prior.

That was why he was chosen. Experience.

Jake Seresin had a reputation, he was the Hangman. He had two confirmed air to air kills and wouldn't lose sleep over a third of forth. From what you could gather since being assigned as his weapons system officer, Jake took risks. Risks that paid off well. He was highly skilled and that somewhat egomaniacal belief that he was a god given gift to aviation made it easier to pull through with such risks.

That was why he was chosen. Taktical ability to compartmentalise.

But Jake Seresin had a fault. He had a single thread loose that if pulled could undo all that male bravado. He cared, deep down, about his squadron. His colleagues had become more like family than anything. He couldn't turn that blind eye that was so necessary to have if this mission were to fail.

And that's why you were brought in. Why you were chosen for such a dangerous mission. You would have been easier to lose against Robert Floyd or Mickey Garcia and the Admirals all knew it. Jake didn't know you. You were a pivotal part of the mission design, a means to an end if necessary.

You were simply expendable:

From the Admirals who had tasked Bradley and Jake with this mission to Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, they all knew that if it were Bob or Fanboy sitting in Jake's WSO seat, he wouldn’t take so many risks. And for once–they needed him to take risks. To not think and just do.

“I'm right behind you, Hangman.” Bradleys voice came through the comms as clear as day. He was taling right behind Jake. “We’re looking good so far.”

“Better not have just jinxed us Bradshaw.” Jake sighed as he made a small turn right, heading down into the canyon below. “We get in, we get out and we go home.”

You had spent the last month revising the mission, sitting in hour long debrief sessions with Rooster and Hangman to go over critical points of the mission. You knew they were close, but there was an underlying sort of animosity you couldn't quite figure out.

And that's why they were both chosen for this mission together. There would be no love lost between the two.

“Still nothing up ahead on radar Hangman.” You spoke firmly with enough conviction in your voice to cover up the fact your heart was racing a million miles an hour. You never thought in your wildest dream you'd make it to TopGun and then further, a specialist unit. But this was not the time to doubt your ability. “All systems go back here, max ceiling is three hundred feet if you wanna keep out of line of sight.”

“Aye aye Hollywood.” Jake had never flown with a weapons system officer before. This was his first mission with one. When he’d been called into Admiral Simpson's office one random Thursday afternoon before finishing for the day–He thought for sure he was about to have his ass handed to him for something he’d surely done.

“Hangman.” Admiral Simpson stood at his desk to greet the aviator who looked a little green around the gill upon first entry. He gestured for the flight suit clad, broad shouldered man to sit in the empty seat beside you. “I'd like you to meet Lieutenant Y/N “Hollywood” Y/L/N, she’ll be joining us here for the foreseeable future.” Jake listened as he sat down beside you.

Without hesitation he sent you a strong smile that took up the entire expanse of his face, completely intoxicating and undeniably hollywood.

“It's nice to see some fresh meat around here, keep the competition guessing.” Jake chuckled as he extended his hand to shake yours. “I'm Lieutenant Seresin, Jake.” He was all confidence and cocky ego until you touched his hand, until your hand shook his back in a friendly gesture. Jake wasn't going to pretend that he didn't feel that sharp spark, that jolt of energy, that lighting strike that ignited his skin when you touched him. “But everyone calls me Hangman.”

“Hollywood here is actually joining us as a WSO Seresin.” Admiral Simpson explained as he let his elbows rest against the old oak desk that put some distance between where he sat and where Jake sat, completely unaware that your presence in North Island was about to completely change the trajectory of his career. “She’ll be your WSO.”

“I’m sorry–” Jake retracted his hand from yours as he shot Admiral Simpson a look, he had previously warned you of this reaction, so you chose to remain silent. Taking in your surroundings and observing Hangman's emotions. It was your job to be observant after all. “Since when do I fly with a WSO? I've never flown doubles before and I don't intend to start now.” Jake argued before he turned back to where you sat. “No offence sunshine, I'm sure you’re great and all, it’s just I don't particularly play well with others.”

“I'm more of a midnight rain kinda girl.” All you did was eye him off with an emotionless expression. Jake didn’t appreciate your tone, he did however appreciate the way your eyes nearly sparkled in the warm afternoon sun that came beaming through the window of Admiral Simpson's office. “I’m not too over the moon about working with you either.” It was a dig. “With a callsign as transparent as Hangman I’m sure I’m in great hands.”

“And I’m sure Hollywood has some outstanding depth to it.” Jake was quick on his feet with his comeback before he frowned a little more and turned his attention back to Admiral Simpson. “Why not Bradshaw?” He groaned, seemingly unimpressed by the decision to dump a WSO on him after years of flying solo. “He doesn’t have a WSO, or Coyote!”

It was then that Admiral Simpson pulled out a cream coloured file from his desk draw and slid it across his desk. He let out a sigh that told you someone wasn’t coming back from this one.

“Because we need it to be you.”

“Approach the canyon entrance with caution.” You directed from behind as you watched the Radar closely. “Remember, we only engage if absolutely necessary.”

“Once we’re in we make this quick.” Rooster spoke firmly, he had been a little hesitant to accept this detachment knowing its risk to reward ratio. But he’d been promised a shore leave after this. A well deserved vacation. “Let’s get to work.”

“Copy, heading into Risk Range now.” That was the name on the cream folder Admiral Simpson had passed you and Hangman on day one. Risk Range. Because once you were in there was no way of pulling you out. It was risky, and a mountain range that expanded as far as the eye could see. “Hollywood, have that laser guide ready for me.”

“On it.” It was like they knew you were coming, because as your radar began flashing with approaching enemy aircraft you knew immediately that they knew. It was a gut instinct.

“Rooster evade left! Hangman break right, we’ve got company.” Jake didn’t waste a second of time reacting accordingly. He broke right as Rooster tailed off. It was the very definition of an ambush, cold calculated and premeditated. “Jake!”

“Hangman on your left!” Rooster's voice came through panicked on the comms as Jake did his best to avoid the enemy aircraft that had seemingly come out of thin air: stealth pilots. Trained to be completely unseen until they wanted you to see them. “Break left!”

“Breaking left!” You twisted and turned and left fingerprints on the canopy as you tried your best to get a better visual. It was madness, pure madness. One two three six how many were there? “Come on, talk to me Hollywood, tell me what you see!” As Jake asked you what you saw you felt your heart pounding inside your chest as you saw a single missile. With wide eyes and panic racing through your veins, you spun around.

“Smoke in the air! Smoke in the air! Six o’clock Hangman break right!”

“Deploying flares!” It was only by the skin of what felt like his nose that Jake was able to avoid a direct hit. These guys were ruthless, where one was evaded another would pop up. “Rooster, talk to me man where you at?”

“I’m here! Hollywood, tell me what you see!” You could have sworn the next few seconds played out like a three hour long Christopher Nolan movie. Time stood still as Jake turned around to expose the full scene playing out on the big screen. A surface to air missile was aiming right for Bradley Bradshaw.

“Jake—“ It was a mumble, a murmur even. It threw a spanner in the cogs of this well oiled detachment you thought you knew everything about. Every angle, every concept, every reason why the three of you were specifically chosen. Because as Jake made a decision that would send the F-18 the two of you found yourselves to be in into the side of a mountain range, you realised there would be love lost, a hell of a lot of love lost if anything happened to Rooster. Bradley Bradshaw was Jake Seresin wingman, period. “It's on him.”

“Not if I can help it.” Jake mumbled under his breath as he swung around and headed straight for where Rooster was.

“Banit coming in hot on your tail Rooster, break right!” It was your confirmation that you were all in, every decision Jake made in the sky affected you and vice versa. There was nowhere to run, not here in this mess. “Jake, deploy flares!”

“Deploying flares!” It was only the smallest of miscalculations that caused it. If Jake had deployed his flares just three seconds prior, then perhaps you wouldn't have been hit. Perhaps you would have been able to save Rooster without sacrificing your own safety. Perhaps if Jake had deployed his flares just three seconds earlier, then the missile that hit the tail end of your F-18 with such force, that it blew the ass end right off the aircraft, wouldn't have knocked you out from the impact.

The explosion was the last thing you heard. The warmth of the fire that kissed your skin was the last thing you felt before everything was cold again. So cold. So cold that it almost burned.

“Y/n!” Jake shouted with a panic in his tone of voice as he shook you softly. “Hollywood! Wake up!” There was blood dripping from your nose, a sign Jake wasn't too keen on but other than that? He couldn’t see any other physical injuries. You still had both arms and legs. “Lieutenant Y/L/N wake up!” It was all so muffled, like you were under water, you could hear Jake calling your name, you could feel him shaking your body, but you couldn't talk, couldn't open your eyes. Until you did, slowly and with a groan. “Oh thank god.” It was the first thing you heard Jake say clearly without the muffled understone. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“What happened?” You asked softly as you tried to sit up. “Where are we?” Jake could recognise the panic taking over your being as he kneeled beside you, helping you to sit up with a groan. He noticed the way you held your ribs on the right side of your body, most likely bruised at the very least from the impact of your parachute deploying. “What happened?”

“We got shot down.” Jake said the four words no aviator ever wanted to hear. “You blacked out on impact.” He explained tentatively, not wanting to scare you any more than you already were. “I pulled your chute.”

“Rooster! Head back to the carrier, abort the mission!” It was the last thing Jake could communicate to his wingman before he lost his radio. The fighter jet was totaled, there was no saving it.

“Hollywood we gotta go! Punch out!” Jake shouted over the warning signals that blared in the cockpit as he spun out of control. There was no worse feeling than burning in. He hadnt experienced it often, only once before–but it still felt the same if not worse than that last time. “Y/n?” When you didn't respond Jake knew something was wrong, as he turned to look behind him he saw you slumped forward and unresponsive. “Dammit Hollywood!” Jake did the only thing he could think of that would help you– he reached over and pulled at the yellow and black ejection handle between your legs.

Almost immediately the canopy went flying as you shot out of the fighter jet. Jake saw your chute deploy–relief flooded his system before he pulled his own ejection handle. It sent him flying high into the sky at the speed of light. He just prayed when he hit the ground he’d be able to find you alive and well.

The time between the moment Jake hit the snow covered ground below to the moment he found you lying between the trees was far too long. He ditched his chute and ran and ran and ran until he was at your side. But there wasn't a mountain he wouldn't climb to reach you. That much was true. You were his WSO. His responsibility.

“Rooster?” You asked as it all came racing back. “Did he–?” You didn't even need to finish your sentence before Jake was giving you some sort of peace of mind.

“As far as I know he turned back to the carrier after we got hit. I haven't seen him doing any flyovers.” Jake explained softly as he assessed your current state. “How many fingers am I holding up?” You watched as Jake held his hand up in front of your face and moved it side to side. You followed his every move.

“Two.” You said confidently, still sitting in the snow. “I'm fine, promise, just a little bruised.”

“You think you can walk?” Jake was helping you to your feet before you even gave him a response. “I'm sorry you're in this mess with me, it's just–” It was your turn to interrupt as Jake wrapped your arm around his shoulders to help you stand. If you had seen him demonstrate this kind of behaviour three days ago you would have sworn black and blue you were dreaming, or that some fictitious creature from another realm had replaced the Jake Seresin you’d been flying with for the past few weeks. But after seeing his harrowing attapet to save his wingman's life without a single second of hesitation, you knew Jake actually cared about the people around him.

“It's fine.” You hissed as you took your first guided steps on wobbly legs after falling out of the sky. “You were protecting your wingman, I would have done the same thing.” Jake had a pretty nasty gash on the side of his head from when he’d landed pretty ungracefully. The side of his helmet cut into his temple on impact. “But now we’re down here, with no backup.”

“E-stats are still working.” Jake reminded you as he continued to help you further into the woods, hoping that it could break the chill of the raging wind. “They’ll see us, hopefully, if we just stay put surely the carrier will be able to track our location.” You knew right then and there that Jake was bluffing, you were smack bang in a communication desert.

“Hangman–” You sighed as he helped you sit down against a rock that was further in, Jake didn't miss the way you squinted as you did so, still holding your ribcage like something was wrong. “I don't think anyone will come back for us.” You did your best to try and block out the pain radiating whenever you took a breath in. “It would make more noise than they want to make.”

“You don't know my squad Hollywood.” Jake smirked as he shook his head slightly with a chuckle. He was right, you didn't know the lengths they’d all go to for each other. Jake reached out to cup your cheeks softly, the pad of his thumb swiped at the blood that had dripped down from your nose. “Someone will come, we just gotta get comfy till then.” There was a moment of silence that passed as Jake really took a moment to drink in your features. Even through all the snow and all the worry your eyes still sparkled the same way they did when he first met you in Admiral Simpson's office. “Your ribs? You think they’re broken?”

“Probably just bruised from the impact.” You replied, lost in your own mind as you stared at Jake’s features. From his eyebrows to his emerald green eyes that you swore swirled with desire. Everything was perfect, even the dusting of that five o’clock shadow that was threatening to expose his not so clean cut navy aesthetic.

“Can I have a look?” You missed the feeling of Jake's hand on your cheek the minute he was gone and had pulled away. You couldn't help but to chuckle as you compiled and started undoing your flight suit.

“You trying to cop a feel Seresin?”

“Would that be the worst thing in the world?” He teased back almost too quickly to not have already been on his mind. Jake was as careful as he could be when you had undone your flight suit enough to expose your black under shirt. He watched as you lifted up the cotton fabric enough so that he could press his palm softly against where your ribs were killing. His heart broke when you whimpered, he knew you were holding back as much as you could. “I know why they call you Hollywood, you know.” Jake thought a distraction from the pain and the situation in general would be good. He kept pressing his fingers around your side trying to see if he could feel anything unusual. He knew it hurt like hell, but when your eyes met his as he looked up at you from where he was kenaling beside you–he hoped the distraction helped.

“Oh yeah?” Jake could hear the pain in your voice as you tried to breathe through his poking and prodding. “What's the consensus?” You groaned through gritted teeth as tears threatened to spill down your cheeks.

“Your dads Rick Neven.” Jake concluded as he finished up his examination. “I thought maybe you were some childhood hollywood hotshot at first but then I overheard Mav telling Mando that you looked just like him.” Jake paused for a moment, reading the terrain of your reaction—when you didn’t totally annihilate him for figuring it out, he pressed on. “You don’t like people knowing you’re practically Navy Royalty, hence your mums maiden name.” He shrugged all the while you worked to fix your flight suit up. “And just like you said, just bruised, not breaks.”

It was hard to believe the same man who hadn’t really looked in your general direction for the better half of the time you knew him was paying this much attention to you now. But then again, he had been the one who got you into this mess in the first place. If you were gonna play the blame game.

“Guess there was some depth to it after all huh?” You referred back to the very beginning, to when you had first met Jake. He smiled at you with that golden boy grin that took over the entire expanse of his face.

“Yeah, yeah I guess there was.” Jake knew just by flying with you, albeit reluctantly, these past few weeks, that you were an extraordinary weapons systems officer. You knew your stuff as well as he knew his shit and together you actually made a pretty decent team. He’d been wrong about you personally though. He kept his distance knowing you were only supposed to be around for this particular detachment then you were off again. There was no real reason to get to know you when you'd be gone in the blink of an eye. But oh how Jake was kicking himself for that thought process. Because now here he was, stuck in the middle of nowhere with the very same WSO he’d been actively trying to not get to know. Something told him though the pair of you were going to have a hell of a lot of time to get to know one another. “The sun's starting to set, we should probably find somewhere to spend the night, maybe make a fire.” Jake looked around, trying to see if there was a place in eyesight where the two of you could make camp for the night. It wasn't ideal, but what else was there to do?

“Yeah–yeah that's probably–” Before you could finish your sentence you heard the unmistakable sound of tree branches being crushed under the weight of footsteps. You spun around to see what was behind you and your heart sank into your stomach.

Insurgents, pointing guns directly at you and Jake.

“Jake.” You whispered as you stood slowly, they didn't make any attempt to move from their positionings. Crouched behind rocks, trees and some were just out in the open. They were everywhere. Surrounding the both of you so that there was no way out.

“Get behind me.” It was the only thing Jake could think about, protecting you. He got you into this mess and he was sure as hell going to get you out of it. He ushered you behind him, making sure to keep turning periodically to look at all angles, wondering if there was by chance a way out of this. “Listen to me, you say nothing, you hear me?” Jake reminded you as he assessed how many you were outnumbered by. “No matter what you don't say anything.”

You’d seen movies before, what could happen to a woman held as a prisoner of war. You couldn’t help it when your mind went straight to that awful place.

“Jake, don't let them take me away from you.” It was the worst situation Jake had ever found himself in. “Please—don’t let them.” You begged as tears streamed down your face. You fisted at the back of Jake's flight gear he had yet to take off. Holding him as close to you as you possibly could. You were beyond terrified.

“Put your hands where I can see them!” One of the insurgents shouted as he stepped closer, still aiming his assault weapon directly at the two of you. “Don’t make any sudden movements besides raising your hands above your head.”

He was wearing all black clothes, they all were. Against the white of the snow it made them stand out like sore thumbs. But they did well enough to cover their faces. No identities were exposed besides your own and Jakes.

“I want your word that you won’t hurt her.” Jake growled as he began to raise his arms around his head. Palms facing out. You didn’t dare to move as Jake felt you balling his uniform in your hands a little tighter. “Don’t you touch her.” Jake had his attention drawn to the insurgent in front of him all the while you had your face buried between his shoulder blades—trying to shelter yourself from this hellscape. “Touch her and I swear I’ll kill you all.”

“Lieutenant, I highly doubt you're an incompetent man, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt when I remind you that you have absolutely no authority or power whatsoever in this situation.” The insurgent snickered as he approached closer. “Take the girl.” He tilted his chin in the direction of his men standing off to the side. Before you could react, they were on you.

“JAKE!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as one of them wrapped their arms around your waist and pulled you away harshly—Jake felt your hands slip from the Normex of his flight suit as he spun around to try and grab your wrist.

“Don’t touch her!” Jake warned again.

“No! No! Stop please—PLEASE!” Jake hated your pleas, your screams would forever haunt his heart. His fingers grazed yours as he whipped around to reach for you. “LET ME GO! GET OFF OF ME!”

“I SAID DONT TOUCH—“ Before Jake could finish his sentence he was in the ground lying in the snow face down. The insurgent making the orders had hit him over the back of the head with his gun. It was enough to make you stop struggling, enough to make you stop resisting.

There was a moment where you just stood there in the detainment of insurgents, taking in everything that was happening. Just how were you going to survive this? This wasn’t in the mission parameters.

“Get them to the truck, before we lose any more light.” The insurgent ordered before he turned around, shouting over his shoulder at his men. Jake lying out cold in the snow was the last thing you saw before it all went black. You felt a pinch at the side of your neck before everything went black and your knees gave in.

“Keep them alive, for now.” It was the last thing you heard before everything went numb. “I want answers.”

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

Tags 🏷️ @americaarse @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @athenabarnes @imaginecrushes @whyareallnamesgone @mjmaximoffbarnes @amiets2 @mads-weasley @gabbyella @ephemeralninon @xoxabs88xox @pedrohoe04 @starkleila @je-suis-prest-rachel @clancycucumber230 @maisie-rebloging-blog @callsign-barbell @obiwankenobis-lap @some-lovely-day @paperbag333 @callsign-magnolia @jhiddles03 @hardballoonlove @shanimallina87 @seitmai @abaker74 @missemrose @starset21 @kmc1989 @phoenix1388 @emma8895eb

#bruises // jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #Jake Seresin Whump #jake hangman x y/n #jake hangman imagine #top gun hangman

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ohtobeleah · 8 months

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Life After Death // The Daggers

Spin off Series to Bruises

Summary: For some reason you’d never know, yours and Jake personal Heaven becomes a check point for the friends you left behind. One by one the Daggers come through on their way to their forever life after death.

Mini Series Warnings: Main character deaths. Mentions of death. Whump. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Platonic reader x Daggers. Specific warnings will be given in each blurb.

Author Note: These won’t be long but they’ll be worth the read for the angst & reunion. (Coming Soon)

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-> Oh Chute // Robert Floyd: When Bob’s parachute fails, he gets to catch up with too people he never thought he’d see again. (2.5k)

-> Bloody Mary // Natasha Trace: Phoenix can’t remember why she has a headache, or why she’s covered in blood. (2.2k)

-> 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. (2.1k)

-> Red Light, Green Light // Mickey Garcia: Mickey knows he had the right of way. (2.3.k)

-> Nuts // Reuben Fitch: Packbacks allergic to peanuts, and Jake wasn’t around with that spare EpiPen. (Coming Soon)

-> It’s Agest // Javy Machado: Coyote should have headed the warnings, but he had other plans. (Coming Soon)

#bruises // jake seresin #life after death //#maverick top gun #top gun fanfic #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun angst #top gun whump

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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Clover Club // Robert Floyd

Summary: After a near fatal accident, Bob comes face to face with the reality that time really is fleeting. Deciding that taking the leap to love you while he has the change is better than to not have had the chance at all.

Warnings: Robert Floyd x Reader. Mickey Garcia x Stepsister!reader. Depictions of injuries sustained from a serious car accident. ANGST! & a lil bit of fluff.

Word Count: 8.3k

Author Note: I don’t wanna hear shit about this one. This is 100% Whump. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m sick in the head—but this entire concept was inspired by Claire’s accident in McLeods Daughter’s. If you aren’t Australian and haven’t seen it just look it up on YouTube. SAD BOI HOUR. Also: this also serves as a milestone post—thanks for the 2k following.

Bob hated his birthday. He had for three years. Not because he didn't like presents or because he didn't like cake. It wasn't because he did have friends and family who would celebrate with him each and every year that passed. It wasn't because he was a lonely person or someone who didn't mind the day being about him.

It was because it served as a memory of the women he lost. A memory he could never ever forget even if he tried. How could he? Reaching out across his bed to be met with emptiness– Bob opened his eyes with a long drawn out yawn. Looking around the bedroom to be met with just himself. Sitting up, Bob threw his legs over the side of the bed. Noticing the date on the alarm clock that sat on his bedside table.

His Birthday–

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

Three years earlier

��This is just perfect, he’s gonna be thrilled—“ Rooster placed his hands on your shoulders excitedly as he shook you slightly. Standing behind you as he admired the birthday decorations that you’d worked hard to hang up around the entirety of the Hard Deck. Fairy lights and birthday streamers. Helium balloons in all different colours, and the birthday banner that read Happy Birthday Bob. “Bobs gonna love it.”

“You think so?” Rooster thought that you and Bob should have gotten together a long time ago. He thought you were two of the best people he knew and the undeniable chemistry you two both gave off whenever you were left alone to your own devices together just seemed like a perfect match. But that was just his opinion. The matter of fact was you and Robert Floyd weren’t even dating. It was more of a situationship than anything else. A blooming romance that enjoyed taking its sweet sweet time developing. “I just hope it’s not too much.” Planning Bob a surprise party for Bob’s birthday wasn’t something you thought you’d ever do, but it had been fun nonetheless.

“No, this?” Rooster questioned as he jumped over the bar, working quickly to pour himself a glass of beer from the tap. “It’s perfect.” Snatching the schooner from Rooster's hand before he could take a sip, you sent him a warning glare. Having followed him right around the bar before he could get too comfortable.

“Penny doesn’t like it when you flyboys come behind the bar—“ You reminded him, watching as Rooster rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders in defeat. Trudging along as he went to sit at a barstool. “I need to pick up Mickey from the airport and stop by Bensons to get the cake. Can you finish getting this place all decked out before the birthday boy arrives?” You wouldn’t consider yourself a hard task master. Simply a bartender who had a thing for the big eyed bigger soul weapons systems officer who’d always given you the time of day. But with the way Bradley Bradshaw was looking at you like you’d just asked him to cut off his own arm—perhaps a hard task master was more appropriate. “Rooster—?”

“Two on the house beers and a bowl of fries and you got yourself a deal.” Rooster beamed as he leaned on the bar. His elbows pressed against oak as you looked at him dumbfounded.

“On the house just means out of my paycheck you jerk!” Sighing as you fished your keys from your back pocket. “But fine, whatever—I really don’t have time to argue.” Stepping out from behind the bar you threw Rooster the keys to the bar. It wasn’t yet open for patrons. “Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Rooster shouted back as you raced out the door. Looking at your watch you had about an hour and a half to get Mickey and Bobs birthday cake before meeting Rooster and the rest of the TopGun gang back at Hard Deck. You’d planned everything perfectly, even reached out to Bob's family. His hometown friends, everyone who was important to him. “Drive safe!”

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

“So, are you and Bob a thing yet?” Mickey Garcia had been in your life since you were about five years old. His mother had been dating your father and as the years went on? He became your step brother. Officially. “I mean—if you’re planning the guy a whole ass birthday I think you should at least make a move don’t you think?” Mickey had been visiting your parents in Seattle on his annual leave, coming back just in time to make it for Bob's birthday.

“I’m pretty content just waiting in the shallow end.” You’d been hurt before. Pretty bad as a matter of fact. Driving back towards the Hard Deck with precious cargo in the back seat. Bob's birthday cake—the massive three layer sponge cake with fresh cream and white chocolate caramel. “We have time, I’m just trying not to get too involved, I mean—I think he might be interested. But I also just don’t wanna get my hopes up. And I’ve already told everyone to say it was you.”

“Me! I haven’t even been here!” Mickey laughed to himself in disbelief. “Bob is gonna know straight away that this was all you.” Mickey was probably right, but you weren’t about to put yourself out there like that. Not when you weren’t entirely sure where you stood. Sure, you’d really like to be exclusive? If that’s what you’d even call it. There’s been a handful of dates, a few moments where eye’s lingered and lips almost connected. But maybe Bob just wasn’t in it. Or maybe you were reading too much into it to begin with. “Besides, he’s different. I don’t think Bob would ever hurt you, not like—“

“Mickey—“ Cutting off your brother with a sigh, you shook your head softly as you drove down the road. “You don’t need to bring him up.” Your ex boyfriend had been that bad, that when you finally managed to get away all you took were the clothes on your back. Mickey was the whole reason you ended up in Miramar—when he’d found out that the daggers were staying as a specialist unit, he hooked you up with a job working for Penny. Keeping you close by surrounded by people who’d always protect you. He never expected you’d stay on your own accord. That accord being one Robert Floyd.

“All I’m saying is Bob is good people, he does like you, talks about you all the time to anyone who falls victim to it.” That made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t really felt this way about someone since high school. It felt childish—but in the best of ways. “Maybe just try to get him to yourself tonight?”

“Can’t, working behind the bar—“ It wasn’t uncommon for you to get side tracked talking to Bob as you cleaned tables and collected discarded glasses. Although you knew Bob wasn’t a drinker, he was one of the only few you’d ever bring a fresh glass to every so often. His order always the same every time. Lemonade with lots of ice, lime wedge on top.

“That has never stopped you before.” Mickey taunted as he looked down at his phone. “It’s beyond me how anyone actually gets a drink whenever you’re working and Bobs in the building.” You couldn’t help but to laugh with Mickey as you felt your cheeks heating at the embarrassment. The smitten kind of embarrassment. “You’re like a moth drawn to a flame—“

“I’ll drop you on the side of the road if yo—“ In an instant, what had been a simple drive back to the Hard Deck as the sun set, turned into a horrific scene of twisted aluminium and bloody bodies.

“WATCH OUT!!” It came out of nowhere, leaving you with little to no time to react more than slamming your foot down on the break. Only to be completely cleaned up by the car coming at you at what felt like the speed of goddamn light. The sound of tires screeching and glass shattering rang through your head as airbags did the best they could to stop your head from smacking violently against whatever part of your car you were thrown against as you rolled and rolled and rolled. Your car ended up at the bottom of the embankment just a five minute drive from the Hard Deck. If you looked close enough with your eyes squinted slightly, you could see it. The lights that had begun to glow a people that looked the size of ants swarmed in.

“Mickey?” You cried as you tried to move. Trapped. “Mickey you there?” There was no response as you listened closely for something, anything to give you a sign of life. Nothing. “Oh, oh god—“ Panic set in quickly as you felt yourself disappearing, the edge of darkness threatening to take you victim as your head spun and eyes rolled. Blood dripped from your mouth. The last thing you consciously remember thinking before coming to a complete stop was the cake sitting in the back seat. The car kept slipping down the embankment, slowly but surely creeping further and further away from the line of sight of oncoming cars. There’s no way it survived. Dizzy and feeling like you were hanging from the roof, you let the taste of iron consume you. Tired, you just needed to close your eyes for abit.

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

Bob had the slightest inkling that you had been up to something. He just wasn’t entirely sure what that something was. But as he came through the front doors of the Hard Deck and was taken aback by all the decorations, the balloons, the birthday banner that read Happy Birthday Bob. He knew in that moment you were behind this entire get together.

“SURPRISE!!!” Everyone in the entire bar cheered and shouted as Bob looked around at all his friends and family that had all come together to celebrate his birthday. It wasn’t something he did every year. Not one big on birthday celebrations. But as he looked around—his eyes scanning the entirety of the bar, looking amongst a sea of people? How could Bob not love his birthday even for a moment. You’d done this all for him he knew that the second he saw the specific way the streamers were twisted. But where on earth were you?

“Happy Birthday man, how’s it feeling huh? Another year older?” Hangman teased as he handed Bob a birthday hat. Something childish alright but it kept with the theme. Bob Accepted it with a smile and nodded in response as he tried to hide the blush creeping over his cheeks.

“Feels good—yeah, hey have you seen Clov?”

“Is she not behind the bar?” Jake responded with a questioning brow. If you weren’t here where the fuck were you? “Ah well, she can’t be too far away right?”

“No, yeah no I guess you’re probably right.” Bob tried to shake the almost gut wrenching feeling he had. Checking his phone to see if you’d messaged him, if he’d missed a call. The last text you sent being the one you sent him on his lunch break—reminding him to arrive on time. Sending you a quick message asking where you were before joining in on the festivities the best he could.

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

It was the smell of gasoline and burning rubber that broke Mickey Garcia out of his unconscious state. His first instinct was to unclip his seatbelt which had him hurtling towards the roof of the car that had somehow become the floor. With a groan, he crawled out of the broken passenger side window—army crawling his way along the dirt and grass that shattered glass had covered without a rhyme or reason.

Laying on his back, Mickey closed his eyes as dry blood covered his face. A deep gash still dripped fresh blood down the left side of his cheek. He could feel it dripping.

“Fuck—“ His torso hurt from where the seatbelt had locked up against him. Probably the only thing besides the airbags that saved his life. “What the hell—?” It shouldn’t have come as an afterthought but it did. “Oh fuck, hey—Clover!” Scrambling to his feet, stumbling as he held his hand to his torso, Mickey crouched down near your window. “Clover can you hear me?” It wasn’t your name, Clover. More so of a designated call sign the resident Aviators you surround yourself with had given you. You’d brought the cocktail with you when you started at the Hard Deck. Asked Penny if you could redo the cocktail menu. A Clover Club had quickly become the special. The mix of raspberry, gin and egg whites winning over the crew who seemed to take you under their wing. “Clover, hey—!” It looked like the scene from Carrie, the one where blood was just dumped over her entire being. Your seatbelt doing God’s work holding you into your chair upside down. Unconscious.

“Help!” Mickey could smell the gasoline leaking from somewhere close to him, so close and so strong it burnt the hair in his nose. “Help me–!” A voice so panicked sent shivers down Mickey's spine as he turned to see the other car. The one who had hit you, the one that had come out of absolute nowhere at a million miles and hour. “Please–” Checking your pulse carefully and as gently as he could, Mickey left you for much longer than he liked as he raced across to the other car, the man trying to claw his way out of the driver's side window. glass cut and dug into his skin as he fell to the ground. Bloodied, broken and bruised.

“You alright?”

“Does it fucking look like i’m alright! You guys hit me!?” Mickey couldn't believe what he was hearing, he did his best to assess the man as he kneeled beside him. “What the hell even happened.” Without question, Mickey knew the man was drunk. He could smell it just as prominently as he could smell the leaking gasoline.

“Okay, we need to get some help out here.” Looking around Mickey could see the Dard Deck just off in the distance. He could run it if he really needed to. Where was his phone? Patting himself down he realised it must have gone flying in the wreck somewhere. “Do you have a phone sir?”

“I did, somewhere, I was arguing with my wife.” Fucking perfect. A double whammy if there ever was one. Drunk and using his mobile. With a throbbing head and a weak constitution for blood, Mickey stood to his feet, making his way back to you. Just in time too, you were coming back to him. Squeezing your hand to gain your attention, Mickey crawled slightly into the car. Assessing if he should hit your seatbelt buckle or not.

“Mickey?” It came out so soft. Barley even audible as you came to. “What–what's going on?” Trying his best to keep you as calm as possible, Mickey sent you a soft smile. Looking up at you as you looked down at him. Blood dripping everywhere.

“Just had a bit of an accident–” Mickey squeezed your hand as he shimmied further into the car along broken glass. “But I feel like we should try and get you out of here, I'm not a big fan of the smell coming from the engine Clov.”

“Oh god, Bob–” It actually pained him to hear you say it. “It’s his birthday, the cake.”

“They’ll be other cakes Clover, but not another you alright?” Trying to keep his voice as calm as he could, Mickey's heart sunk into his chest. Your legs had been jammed up under the steering wheel column. Jagged edges of plastic from your dash stuck into your thighs, ripping them apart like no tomorrow. So deep he wore he saw bone. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better.” Coughing slightly, blood bubbled up forcing you to cough a little more aggressively. “Im so sorry Mic–”

“Not your fault at all.” Mickey was trying his best to keep himself together as he tried to look for his phone, to no avail. “But I do have to go get help so I can get you outta here.” It was almost as if you’d just woken up and realised what was actually going on. Because the minute you felt Mickey slightly pull his hand away from out of your grasp, you panicked. Tears fell with the gravity of being trapped upside down.

“No no no, don't leave me.” Begging as you cried, trying to unbuckle your seatbelt. It had become jammed from the impact. “Mickey don't you leave me here to die, please–please don't leave me.”

“Clov I can’t not get help.” Mickey tried his best to convince you, but you weren't having a bar of it. Clawing at your seatbelt trying to set yourself free as your steering wheel column dug deeper and deeper into your thighs. “Clover stop!” Mickey tried his best to still you, your hair caked with blood as he held you still. He assumed that there was so much adrenaline pumping through your veins that you couldn’t feel the damage being done to your legs. Either that or shock. “You’re stuck, please don’t make it worse by moving—“

“Get me out Mick—“ It was the worst kind of plea for help because Mickey Garcia was in over his head. He didn’t know what to do. On one hand he could find a way, but the damage he could do in the process might outweigh the cost of setting you free. On the other hand? He leaves you here to get help, what if you weren’t to make it? How could he ever live with himself? “I’m serious, get me out!” Screaming at the top of your lungs as you tried with all your might to free yourself.

“Hey shh, shh—listen?” Mickey looked around the roof of the car which had become the floor, your phone lit up across the other side. With his emotions running wild as he tried to reach it Mickey groaned. It was Rooster trying to get a hold of you. “Shit, I can’t get to it.” Just as Mickey was reaching for your phone it stopped ringing out—a loud overpowering explosion consuming you both entirely. Sending the car rolling over a little more down the embankment. Mickey had smacked his head as the car rolled, rendering him unconscious as you laid pressed against the steering wheel still trapped.

“Mickey?” It hurt to breathe. “Mickey!?” It hurt to speak. “MICKEY!” You didn’t know what had happened—what had caused the car to shift again. To roll over. Whatever blood had rushed to your head while you had been upside down was now pumping back through the rest of your body.

And fuck did it hurt.

Rooster stood on the front porch of the Hard Deck biting his cuticle as he listened to your voicemail for the third time. Where the hell were you? You should have been back by now? By a while.

“Dude? Where’s Clover? I thought she was the one who set this whole thing up?” Jake questioned as he came to stand with Rooster, picking up on the decorated pilot's worry.

“Should’ve been back by now.” As Rooster clicked on your contact once again—Jake jumped slightly beside him at the explosive fireball that shot up in the near distance. Just down the road.

“Holy shit what the hell was that?”

“Whatever it was, it can’t be good—“ Watching as the fire ball dissipated and thick black smoke followed in its tracks, Jake and Bradley were both too scared to admit to one another that they both had the same gut wrenching feeling. What if it had something to do with you? “We should check it out—“

“Yeah no doubt.” Before the two men could get very far down the front steps of the Hard Deck, Bob was coming after them.

“Oh my god, what happened over there?”

“We’re gonna go check it out man.” Rooster explained. “Stay here, enjoy the festivities! It’s your birthday.” Bob didn’t want to admit it, but without you there to taunt and tease? He wasn’t having all that good of a time. “Sure it’s nothing.”

“Well if you’re sure it’s nothing we’ll be quick and be back before anyone even notices, right?” Bob stood his ground. Hesitant to drop the subject because what Rooster didn’t know, what Jake didn’t know, what Bob didn’t know—was that they were all thinking the same thing. But no one wanted to say it out of pure fear. “So what are we doing still standing here?”

“He’s right, let’s just check it out and get back before everyone throws a tantrum—“ Jake had become a little less jerky and a whole lot more tolerable since the success of the uranium mission. But he still had his moments.

The road was pretty much a straight shot to where the explosion had been. The three aviators all jogged somewhat seriously towards the fire. The smell of gasoline and what could only be described as a mix of burning rubber, aluminium and human flesh completely consuming them the closer they got.

“Oh shit–” Jake saw it first. The familiar silver of your Toyota Corolla caught his attention as it sat crumbled up in the embankment next to what he could only imagine had been another car. Completely engulfed by flames. “Fuck–” Pausing in his tracks as he gripped Bob by the forearms. Pulling him back as his eyes widened. Realising it was your car. His heart immediately racing in his chest. “Don't do it to yourself man, go back to the Hard De–” Ripping his arm out of Jake's grip, Bob raced down the embankment, sliding down on his arse to avoid the steep incline and force of gravity. “Call an ambulance man–” Jake's voice was soft as he gestured to Rooster who stood completely gobsmacked by the sight before him. There was no fucking way anyone would walk away from this?

“Clover!!” Bob shouted as he stood to his feet. “Clov? Are you there?” In retrospect, yes it was a stupid question to ask. But Bob didn't know what else to ask. “Clov!” When he finally laid his eyes on you Bob held back his imident automatic response to throw up the entire content of his stomach. “Oh my god–” With a hand over his mouth to sooth the urge, Bob tried his best to open the door. Pulling at the handle to absolutely no avail.

“Won't work–” With your head resting against the steering wheel, you mumbled softly with your eyes closed. Conserving whatever energy you had left. Whatever light. “Bob–”

“Hey pretty girl.” Bob’s bottom lip quivered as he pulled himself through the broken window. Being careful enough to avoid the shards that threatened to slice his torso. “What happened, hey? Do you remember?” All he got as a response was a soft moan, anguish evident. “Can you open your eyes for me?” Bob was careful as he moved your blood stained hair from your face. Dried and stuck in the cuts and gashes that covered your cheeks, your forehead. Watching as your eyelids fluttered open and blood dripped from your slightly open mouth. “There she is, hi Clov.”

“Hi–” It was all you could muster up the strength to say. Small almost inaudible responses. “Mickey?” Bob wasn't thinking straight, he hadnt even thought that Mickey would be with you. He hadn't noticed Mickey sprawled in the back after being thrown around when the car rolled again.It was supposed to be a surprise. Pulling himself out of the window to turn back to Jake who had managed to find a way in, retrieving Mickey from the back before placing him on the ground.

“He’s got a good pulse, I don't know shit else Bob, they aren't in a good position–can you get Clover out?” Statement, question, statement, question. That's all Bob heard. He couldn't think straight. Couldn't see, couldn't hear. This was the woman of his dreams he was dealing with. He’d been too afraid to make a solid move on. “Bob!”

“Sorry, Sorry–ill uh, i'll try.” Shaking himself out of his own head Bob turned back to where you sat trapped in the driver's seat. Assessing the situation. “Clov, I'm gonna try to unclip your seatbelt, yeah?” You’d gone back to just responding with groans, eyes closed. “Open your eyes for me.” Bob reminded you as he reached in and around to unclip the belt that had come loose in the last roll. Shifting you slightly forwards when it unsnapped. Your eyes open just barley.

“I got you–got you a cake.” Okay. Maybe Bob could work with this. Keeping you occupied with absent minded conversation while he stayed with you till the ambulance arrived.

“You did? What flavour was it?” Bob's heart dropped out of his arse when he saw the damage that had been done to your legs. Specifically your thighs, completely cut into and torn off the goddamn bone from your sternwheel column. Completing trapping you regardless if he was able to get the door off its hinges. “Clover, what flavour was the cake?” He wasn't giving up, but Bob quickly realised the best thing he could do would be to just say with you, keep you talking.

“White Chocolate Caramel.” There was not a part of you that wasn't covered in blood. Bob knew the human body held a lot, but he’d never seen it leaking from so many places before.

“Well, I'm sure it would have been perfect.” searching for your hand, Bob gripped it as tight as he could. “I'm here okay, I'm not going anywhere, helps coming Clov.” This had to be the sickest joke the universe had ever pulled on Robert Floyd. He had a plan, you see. Bob was pretty sure that tonight would be the night he finally worked up enough courage to ask you if you wanted to date. Start off slow, go with the flow. Enjoy each other's company more exclusively. He wasn't sure if he’d ever get the chance to now.

“Guys, I'm pretty sure there's a dead guy burning over near the other car–” Rooster shouted as he raced down the embankment. “Ambulance is like five minutes away.” Bob didn't reply, he was too caught up with you. His eyes weren’t leaving yours as you just sat there, resting against your steering wheel. Face squished.

“Bob?” It was a sob. Clear as day. Bob noticed the tears welling in your eyes as they fell down your cheek. Mixing with the dried blood that caked your skin.

“Yeah Clov, I'm here.” Squeezing your hand as you gave him nothing back. Your fingers just twitching ever so slightly.

“I really like you, like a lot.” You didn't feel good at all, something was very wrong and you didn't want Bob to go about his life wondering if you did or didn't like him. Despite your insecurities? Bob had been a good friend. Always. You just needed him to know that there was more than friendship on your part. Just in case. “Just need you to know–” Coughing up blood as you really struggled to keep your eyes open and tried on Bob. “Just in case–”

“You aren't dying on me.” Bob was stern when you leaned further into the car. His face just inches away from yours. “You don't get to die on me, God if you die on me Clov i'll be–”

“Angry?” Of course he’d be angry, you ruined his birthday.

“Completely and utterly heartbroken.” Bob finished his sentence before you could let your mind run wild with the thought of Bob being angry at you. “I couldn't never be angry at you.” It was the Silence that fell as your face changed. Stilling as muscles relaxed and your breathing shallow even more than what it already was. “Clover? Hey– Clov you stay with me alright?” Bob panicked as he pushed your hair back out of your face. Your hand fell limp in his as you smiled softly at him just one more time. Your vision blurred and became dark and dazed. Sirens alerted Bob to the fact that emergency services were just getting to you now. They began racing down the embankment with gear they needed.

“What I would give to know what it would be like to be loved by you.” It was the last thing you said before darkness came for you, going completely limp as a steady stream of blood poured from your mouth. Eyes still open as your entire body weight collapsed onto the steering wheel. Bob couldn't believe it. No–he wouldnt let you just fucking die on him.

“Clover!!! Hey, no no no no don't you do this to me! Don't you do this, c’mon, you're alright.” Complete denial had set in as he tapped your cheek trying to get you to wake up. “No baby don't do this, please don't leave me–”

“Sir, step aside!” The paramedics on sight were quick to push Bob to the side. The feeling of his hand slipping out of yours Bob swore he’d never forget. “She's not breathing! Let's get her out of here quickly!” Bob stumbled back as he felt his heart racing, tears streamed down his face until his back crashed against Rooster. Finally breaking as he fell to his knees. Listening to the paramedics as they worked on you. “Where's the defib?” “I can't get a pulse!” “Pass me the saw now!!!”

“Bob?” It was Mickey's voice that pulled Bob out of his own head. Watching as paramedics placed him on a stretch with his neck in a brace just for good measure. “She loves you, you know.” Your blood was all over his hands, his shirt, his jeans. Bob couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think of anything else but how he’d never get a chance to love you as fiercely as you deserved to be loved.

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

As you cleared the empty glasses from the top of the tables, you caught the sight of Bob in your peripheral. Sitting off to the side while the rest of the aviators he’d accompanied to the Hard Deck played a game of pool. Respectfully—it wasn’t Bob's thing. The pool table and booze weren’t what he came to the Hard Deck for. It was and always would be to see you.

“You want another drink Lieutenant?” Still working to clear the table before turning to face Bob with a smirk. “I can make you a mean mocktail.”

“You know I hate asking—“ Bob looked down at the empty glass of lemonade that he held in his lap.

“It’s not asking if I’m offering.” Taking the glass from Bob's hand, you stayed comfortably between his legs as his hand moved to glide against the side of your thigh, fingers playing with the hem of your waitressing apron. “One Clover Club mocktail coming right up.” It all seemed to give you a case of Déjà vu. You’d done this before.

Too many times to count.

“What about the cake?” Bob questioned as his eyes lingered down towards your thigh. Confused, you tilted his chin up with your fingers.

“What cake?” Huh, this was new. This wasn’t what you were expecting Bob to say.

“My birthday cake—“ Reaching out to cup your cheek, Bob left a bloody handprint against your cheek. “You ruined it.”

“What are you talking about?” Storm clouds were quick to take over the sunny sky that had been blistering outside the Hard Deck. Glass shattered around you as three branches smashed into the bar. “Bob! What’s going on!?” Falling to the ground on top of you—Bob protected you from the wild weather and broken glass. Bob used his body as a shield.

“Quickly, follow me!” Rising to his feet Bob took off running. Trying your best to follow him, you stumbled back to the ground. Your legs were numb. You thighs were cut up and bleeding, so badly you could see bone. Flesh torn apart. “Clover! Over here!!”

“I can’t walk!” Panicking you felt your chest tightening as the storm outside got worse. Where had everyone else gone? “Bob! Help me!” The entire Hard Deck looked as if it had been caught in the eye of a hurricane.

“I’m over here!!” His figure has gone, vanished into thin air. “I’m here Clover!” Where the fuck was he? Why did he leave you?

“How do I get to you! I can’t walk, I can’t see you!?”

“Just wake up.” Bob's voice had softened, like he was whispering right in your ear. “Please come back to me—“ Scrunching your eyes tight as you balled yourself into a foetal position a steady beeping came through the thunder. The beeping drawing you back to reality because when you opened your eyes again you were no longer at the Hard Deck. You were in what you could only assume was a hospital bed.

Cold. That’s how you would describe hospitals in one word. They were always so cold. The steady beeping of your heart rate monitor was the only sound you could concentrate on as you slowly but surely looked around. Your arm was casted. Had you broken it? Trying to shift yourself up the bed slightly you noticed how unbelievably heavy your legs were—or lack thereof. Wait—why couldn’t you feel your legs?

“I uh, I just stepped out for a coffee. Didn't expect to see you awake for a while.” Bob’s voice was soft as he stopped himself at the threshold of your room. Holding a large coffee in his hand and a fresh bunch of flowers he’d gotten to replace the practically dead ones that were in the vase across the room. Timidity, he entered. Not sure how to act even though he’d been by your side since you were moved into a room by yourself. “Not saying that you being awake is a bad thing, I just um–the doctors told me not to get my hopes up.” You didn’t say anything in response as you watched Bob fixed the flowers he'd brought you into the vase, discarding the old ones before he came to sit beside you. He looked tired. Scruff has settled in nicely across his chin and cheeks.

“It's that bad huh.” You cut right to the chase. Not wanting to beat around the bush too long with it. Bob just took a sip of his coffee as he tried to hold back tears. He’d gotten pretty good at it over the last week or two. He’d just swallow a bunch of times and clench his jaw to stop himself from breaking down over a girl who wasn't even his to break down over. “Bob?”

“I should go get your parents.” As Bob tried to leave, you reached out for his wrist, keeping him from moving away. He hated the little oxygen tube that fed up into your nose. He wanted to rip it right from your face. But he knew better than to do that. It just hurt to know you’d been through so much. That he couldn't do more to help. “Clov–”

“You won't sugar coat it, please?” You knew if your parents had a chance to explain what was wrong with you, they would give you all the odds and tell you to fight and keep strong. But Bob? He was a statistics guy. A realist. He knew exactly how bad things were. You could see it in his eyes. “I wanna hear it from you.” Running his hand down his face as he placed his coffee on the table beside you. Bob reached for your papers. Sitting back down in the chair beside you as his free hand squeezed yours. The pad of his thumb rubbing softly against the skin of your palm.

“Um–so–” Bob didn't really know where to start. Clearing his throat as he looked back to the woman he loved so dearly. “So you had an accident, a pretty serious one.” Explaining what had happened the best he could with the information he had. “I think a good place to start is that Mickey is already discharged, he’s good, a couple of broken ribs and bruises here and there but otherwise he walked away pretty unscathed.” That in and of itself had been a miracle. It was good to hear though. “A little bit of a concussion but that was to be expected.”

“Why can't I feel my legs?” You really just wanted to get to the worst part of all of it. Bob was reluctant to explain but he knew you would appreciate him just cutting the cord. “Rip the bandaid off Flyboy–” It was something you called him just to tase him. Flyboy. Even as you laid practically on your deathbed, you still had a massive thing for Robert Floyd.

“You broke your back in two places Clov, doctors said you had a pretty high risk of losing function possibly from the waist down.” Bob's entire demeanour changed as he lost the smirk that crept across his face at the pet name you called him. Settling for something more serious as he held your hand and explained what was going on. “They tried to operate, you know, clear the bone fragments that had shattered and tidy everything up. Relieve the pressure on your spinal cord.” Bob paused a he look a deep breath in. he’d had more time to come to terms with this but he still hadnt fully processed it. “The surgery offered slightly better odds on the paralysis front but you were in critical condition–the surgery came with real risk.”

“The risk being, I'll never walk again?” It cut through Bob's heart like a hot knife into butter.

“The doctors seem to think there's a slight chance, but if we’re looking at it from an odds perspective here Clover it's like one in one hundred.” But he told you the truth like you asked him to. Didn't sugar coat the situation at all. He told you openly what you were facing. “There's options like rehabilitation, but the chances of ever walking without aid again are pretty slim to none.” the silence lingered as you processed what Bob had just told you. Frowning, you simply tried to change the subject.

“Did you ever get another birthday cake?” Bob looked at you like you were on some sort of medication he wasn't aware of. “I think if anything you need a cake.” Pushing the hospital blanket off your legs you tried to sit up. But couldn’t on your own accord. “Bob, help me up would you?”

“Y/n” Bob hardly ever used your name. Noone really did these days. It always always callsigns and nicknames. So when Bob said your name it struck a nerve that someone was severely wrong. “I'm not gonna do that alright, just–let me get the doctors for you and ill–”

“I'm fine, see–?” Pushing yourself up with your good arm. A jolt of pain flashed up your spine. Gritting your teeth you tried to act cool. “See, now help me off this goddamn bed.” Trying your best to throw your dead legs over the side of the bed, Bob had to reach out and physically stop you. Forcing you to stop what you were doing. “I'm fine! I'm totally fine!”

“Clover your paralysed, please–don't make it worse just, please, i'll go get the doctors.”

“I dont need some fucking doctor! I need to get out of this fucking bed!” A nurse walking past had heard the commotion coming from your room, stopping in the doorway to see Bob struggling to keep you still in your bed. Paging for someone to come check on you before the situation spiralled out of control. “Bob if you aren’t going to help me get the fuck out!” Not knowing what to do, Bob ignored your pleas for him to leave, how could he do that when you were so clearly not alright. “Get out!! GET OUT!”

“I'm not gonna leave you here alone Clov” Bob tried to hold you still as he saw the doctors coming in. “It's just a lot right now–”

“Fuck. Off. Floyd.” At this point you didn't really know what you were saying as Bob stepped back and let the doctors who knew what they were doing take over. “Get out of here!” It was hard not to take things as personally as he did. Bob knew it was just the process of grief taking effect. It hits everyone differently. You didn't mean what you were saying, but the fact you had just been told you probably would ever walk again had your emotions everywhere. You needed someone to blame, someone to hate. Bob had just been the closet victim.

Watching as the doctors and nurses sedated you for your own benefit, Bob let his emotions escape as tears streamed down his cheeks. Standing over near the flowers he’d brought you. Settling you back into the bed, one of the nurses turned to Bob, offering him a few tissues.

“You shouldn't leave, she clearly needs someone–it’s most likely just the cocktail of drugs we’re pumping her with.”

“Oh I wasn't going to.” Bob was quick to clarify. “Just hard seeing her like this.”

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

Bob had waited until your parents had arrived before he left your side. Since you’d asked him to leave he hadn’t been back. Well, as far as you were aware anyway. He’d slip in to check on you while you were sleeping, but he was too afraid to overstep a line you’d drawn in the invisible sand of your relationship. As days turned into a week, you’d begun to worry irreversible damage had been done to your relationship.

But something Bob couldn’t let go of was the fact he’d watched you die. He’d watched your light fade into nothingness. He’d watched the girl he’d pinned over for months with your intoxicating laugh and bright smile fade to nothing. He’d been given a chance to love you—he wasn’t letting that go.

He saw you out of bed, sitting by the window in the wheelchair the hospital had provided. Knocking gently, you didn’t turn around. For a split second—Bob was going to turn on his heels and dip. But he stood his ground. Clearing his throat as he entered your room.

“You know, I never did get to eat that birthday cake.” Bob started as he came to stand beside you. Noticing the glazed over look in your eyes as you looked longingly out the window. “So I thought, why not share one with my best girl.” A little bit of Bob's southern hospitality jumped out when he sat the small two person cake on your lap. Holding up two silver spoons as he ducked to kiss the top of your head. Chuckling softly, you shook yourself out of your daze. Watching as Bob sat down beside you.

“I'm sorry I snapped at you last week.” It was a heartfelt apology you knew Bob deserved.

“It’s not an issue, really.” Bob was quick on the draw as he shook his head. You didn't need to apologise for grieving.

“Why’d you stay away for so long then?” Silence fell for a moment before Bob decided to just be truthful, be honest.

“I just wanted to give you time, some space.” It was the truth. “I still came by and sat with you while you slept. Checked in with the nurses, your parents, Mickey.” Opening the plastic lid on the cake before he dug his spoon in as he spoke candidly. “You’ve kinda got me in a spiral here Clov and I dunno what to do.” It was Bob's first admission. Taking a spoonful of cake into his mouth as he sat back in his chair. Mimicking his actions you did the same, taking a spoonful of cake onto your spoon. “I'm pretty sure I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, but that could also be the whole I saw you die thing still making it hard to sleep.”

“What did you just say?” Coughing on the cake you just swallowed in a lump.

“The whole I saw you die thing making it hard to sleep?” Bob repeated as he frowned his brows. “I mean yeah, i just can't get the image out of my head, and then there's the blood–”

“No Bob, I wasn't talking about that–'' It wasn't that you didn't care about what Bob was going through, seeing someone die in front of you would be hard on anyone's mental stability. “What do you mean you wanna spend the rest of your life with me?” It felt so natural to say that Bob hadnt even realised how much that could weigh on a person. “Robert Floyd, you know I'm in a wheelchair right? For possibly the rest of my life– you can't do that.”

“Why not?” He was being so casual about it that for a moment you thought you were going crazy. “What law says that?”

“There's no law it just seems–” You paused as you hung your head low. Almost shamefully. “Unfair.” That really hit Bob. “I feel like you'd be more of a carer then a partner and I don't want you being stuck with a girlfriend who can't walk. Do you know how many things I'd be cheating you out of?” It really did sound like you were trying to talk Bob out of whatever decision he’d made about you. “Not to mention the process of–”

“You don't get to think of yourself as any less deserving because of this.” Bob was quick to interrupt as he brought you a little closer to him by your wheelchair. “You are the best person i know–”

“Bob please–”

“You're so funny, you light up any room you walk into.” Bob smirked as he saw your eyes get a little bigger, a smirk trying its best to take over the muscles in your face. “Do you know how many Clover Clubs i've drunk just so i had a chance to talk to you?”

“What do you mean?” You could not believe what you were hearing as you tried to hide your smile, biting your bottom lip softly as Bob softly rocked your wheels back and forth as he admitted his feelings, his little smooth criminal moves.

“I hate eggs, God the idea of drinking raw egg whites makes me want to vomit, but goddammit the way you would always ask, so nicely, so sincerely, how could I say no!” It was the laugh you let out that had Bob beaming. He hadnt heard you laugh in so long. “Even if it was non-alcoholic id still rather drink anything else than raw egg whites.”

“You should have told me!” Between genuine chuckles that evoked tears of joy, your smile had come back. Bob was certain at that moment he was going to marry you one day. “I would've just made you something else, or better yet brought you over something you actually wanted.”

“Now where's the fun in that?” Bob beamed as he leaned in to kiss your forehead. Holding you against him for a moment before pulling away to rest his forehead against yours. “Honestly, if you want to, we’ll take it slow and just see how things go? But this?” Bob gestures to the wheelchair you sat on. “Does not change how I feel about you. If anything it's made me realise just how fleeting time really is and all I wanna do with the time I've got left on this god forsaken earth is love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“You're gonna end up resenting me.” It was hard to trust that someone could love you with how broken you really were. “For all the things i'll never be able to do.”

“I could never resent you.” Bob was as honest as he could be. “Never could I ever resent you for just being you Clov.”

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

Present day

Bob hated his birthday, a little part of him died that day. He would never take life for granted again. He cherished small moments with the people around him more than most people would ever know. Not only would he take mental pictures of life's greatest pleasures, he’d taken up photography in order to make sure he could always look back on the memories he’d made with the ones he loved. If Robert Floyd was around? You’d best be sure there was a camera not far behind.

Yawning as he made his way down the hall, Bob kicked away balloons that had littered the floor of the hallway. He knew you weren't far away.

“Babe, what is all this?” Rounding the corner of the living and kitchen area, Bob froze in his tracks as he locked eyes on you. “What the hell!” Completely stunned.

“Happy Birthday Baby!” You beamed as bright as the biggest star as you stood just slightly away from the kitchen counter. Standing still on legs that had not held your full weight on their own in three whole years. Your cane close by, Bob could see it sticking out from behind the island bench. But that didn't matter. Because as you took three very wobbly steps towards him unassisted? Bob couldn't have asked for anything else besides your happiness. “Been working towards this since you told me I was still worth your love.”

“You will never stop amazing me, pretty girl.” Bob was quick to catch you in his arms as you lost your balance, crashing into him. His lips on your in an instant as he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You were his one in one hundred chance. The love of his life. “I love you so much.”

Robert Floyd hated his birthday. His birthday brought around memories of the women he lost. Forever trapped in that smashed up car. But he’d never for a moment forget how to love the women who he had the chance to love as fiercely and as passionately as he did. He knew a part of you died that day, but he was just thankful to be able to spend his days with the best parts of you that were left.

“I love you so much more, Flyboy.”

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