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One Hit Wonder // Bob Floyd

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

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

Word Count: 4.1k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tits?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you more.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Course love.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, a little.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

my future in your eyes

mingyu still holds onto you, even after all this time.

๑彡 kim mingyu x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 divorced!au/ex-husband!au, post-break up!au, exes-to-lovers!au — fluff

๑彡 paragraph format — 1.1K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 title is taken from zack tabudlo’s as you are.

๑彡 i’m lowk proud of this ngl bc— it’s fluff, but it took me relatively quick to finish?? usually i get stuck for weeks if the wip’s fluff ><

Kim Mingyu is a man of confidence.

Not that he uses his confidence to swindle strangers, as the dictionary suggests the title means. Rather, he exudes confidence — regardless of what he does.

There is always an air confidence around him. He can be in clothes that don’t fit the event’s theme and he’ll still seem perfectly dressed. He can be barely conversant in another language and he’ll still sound like he knows what he’s saying. He can just be standing there, doing nothing, and he’ll still appear like he’s doing something right.

Some people mistake his confidence for arrogance. Most find it admirable. But, in truth, Mingyu hardly cares.

Especially if his so-called confidence vanishes whenever you are in the vicinity and within his line of sight. Just like now.

He sees you in a table with Seokmin. Your back is towards him but he recognizes you, anyway. Despite the distance, he has no problem witnessing how animatedly you talk with your common friend.

It’s almost like he is back in college: you and Seokmin in one row, him and Minghao a few rows back. He can almost hear Minghao state matter-of-factly, "You’re staring," like he often does back then.

Really, all that’s different is Minghao’s currently preoccupied being the groom to comment on his staring. (There are definitely more things that are different now, but he doesn’t want to even begin thinking about them.)

Seokmin catches his stare. Not soon after, specifically before Mingyu can even look away, he sees him leave the table. Seokmin throws him a familiar meaningful look before disappearing into the dance floor.

Truth be told, Mingyu’s confidence comes naturally. It isn’t something that he purposely channels. It’s just always there . . . unless you are involved. Then, suddenly, he has to painstakingly gather the confidence to be near you.

"Is this seat taken?" He tries his hardest to mask his awestruck look with one of kind politeness as he waits your response.

He almost forgot how to breathe when your eyes lock into his. "You may sit if you wish," you offer him a small, polite smile. "I don’t think he’ll be back anytime soon."

"Thanks." He effortlessly returns your gesture before situating himself on the chair your common friend abandoned. "How are you enjoying the party?"

"Really well, actually. I didn’t expect to recognize a lot of people from college." Your eyes don’t leave his as you answer. He tries not to stare back too intently, to look within your eyes to see something . . . anything. "And you?"

Mingyu waits for a beat, gathering enough confidence to say what he wants to. "Better now that you’re here." With me.

He lets out a barely audible embarrassed laugh. He has half a mind to take it back, but quickly changes his mind when he sees you biting your lower lip — an obvious attempt to stop yourself from laughing.

A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. There’s pride in knowing he’s still able to make you laugh, despite it being your first meeting in literal years.

You look down in a presumable attempt to calm yourself down. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, though, as he refuses to lose you from his sight. As such, he immediately notices the sudden shift in your expression.

"You’re still wearing it." Mingyu follows your line of sight — and ends up looking at the source of your comment. His hand on the table, specifically the band of gold adorning his ring finger. "Our ring."

Our wedding ring.

You and Mingyu married soon after graduating from college. It had been a blissful marriage, one that filled a home with nothing but love and support.

Your divorce was on the basis of irreconcilable differences. It was a mutual decision, for the interest of your career paths diverging too far. There was never a bad blood.

"Ye— yeah." Mingyu stutters involuntarily. He clears his throat before continuing, "It’s a great conversational piece."

Although the divorce has been finalized years ago, Mingyu still plays the faithful and loving husband role in front of strangers. He uses the ring on his finger to his advantage: may that be to wordlessly signal that he’s already taken or to gain the favor of a potential sponsor.

Likewise, even if he knows the ring might be a disadvantage, he refuses to take it off — nor to purposely hide it from sight. The same way he never tells a stranger that he is no longer tied to someone else.

"Does it work?" You ask in wonder.

"We are conversing now, aren’t we?"

You chuckle, "Touché."

Mingyu wants to tell you that he hasn’t taken the ring off since you slipped it on his finger during your wedding. Not even after your divorce has been finalized all those years ago.

He wants to tell you his ring finger is thinner near his palm because of his adamant refusal to take his wedding ring off once in a while. Not willing to separate from the only physical reminder of your marriage, not even for a second.

He wants to tell you the ring is more than a conversational piece. He wants to tell you it’s his lifeline, something he can’t bear to lose. But he doesn’t.

Instead, Mingyu uses all the confidence he has gathered to ask you a simple question. "Dance with me?"

He offers you the hand adorned by his wedding ring. He tries not to show the uncertainty he feels by masking it behind a smile.

He almost lets out a relieved sigh when you place your hand on top of his. But he stops breathing momentarily when he catches sight of the sole jewelry adorning your hand.

"You’re still wearing it," Mingyu echoes your comment breathlessly. "Our ring."

He snaps his eyes back to your face, just in time to witness your smile widen. "Yeah," you say. "It’s a great talisman to ward off potential suitors."

He leads you to the dance floor, silently marveling at how your hand still fits perfectly with his. "Does it work?"

"It’s very effective," you assure him. "Although I don’t think it works well against ex-husbands."

Another slow song starts playing right when you reach the dance floor. You and Mingyu unconsciously claim your respective hand placements during your first dance — and for any waltz you danced after.

Then, suddenly, it’s like you traveled back in time.

Mingyu pulls you closer, a ghost of a smirk is at the edge of his lips. "I think it works well attracting ex-husbands."

the name of someone i no longer know

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,406 words

Summary: it's stick season what can i say? also maybe this is whump-tober coded who knows

Content Warning:  alcohol use/abuse, maybe alcoholism, dui mention, police interaction, drunk jake, a little aggression, heartbreak and all around sad

Author Note: what the summary said

Jake had loved California for the reasons that it never seemed to rain. It was flooded with lots of sunshine, beaches and bars. Good music, good friends, good girls and bad decisions to be made.

Until he was sent back to the thick of it - sent to Annapolis to be shipped off for some form of deployment, only to be delayed due to concerns for the ship. Instead of sending him back to California, they'd kept him in Maryland.

Maryland was his personal Hell on Earth.

Flooded with memories of the cooler months, pumpkin patches filled with your laugh, dive bars he'd lost himself in like corn mazes he'd held onto you in. This place haunted him. Especially when it rained and God, did it rain in this damned state.

Another Friday of work slips away from him, until he's at the old bar whose name had been a weapon in the fallout. Jake sits peeling labels of a local beer - they were out of Bud. The jukebox plays a song he doesn't recognize and a couple laughs in the corner of the bar top.

That corner had housed the two of you all those years ago. Conversations about drunken college nights, holidays spent with friends instead of family while deployed, promises made that he'd broken only months later.

His collection of beer bottle caps is turning into a small mountain in front of him. Until the bartender is tapping the wood in front of him. "Last one, pal."

Green eyes groggily flip up to meet his, brows furrowing. "Huh?"

"You've had enough for the night, man." The bartender slides his receipt toward him, the pen alongside it rolling off and onto the floor. The blonde sits up with annoyance.

"I'm fine, first off," Jake slides from the barstool to retrieve the pen off the floor - only to crack his head on the underside of the bar when he stands up, "fuck!"

The man from the corner comes to his side, "Are you alright? That looked like it hurt." When the stranger grabs his arm, Jake rights himself and shoves him back into a barstool.

"Don't touch me." He spits. The stranger holds up his hands to show he's backing off.

"You need a ride." The bartender is pulling his phone from his pocket, Jake shakes his head.

"No, no I'm-" a hiccup breaks his train of thought. The sum of the bill catches his eye and he groans, dropping his initials onto the paper.

"I'll just order you an Uber, where you going?"

"I said no, I can drive." The barkeep nearly gives Jake the stink eye now. As the blonde fumbles his way to the front door, he nearly eats it at the front stoop. He manages to find his way to his truck - a rental no less - he pauses at the sight of an old Jeep Liberty.

The last time he was in Annapolis, he'd bought a cheap one exactly like it off of Facebook Marketplace. He'd needed a way to get around, and considering how often he bounced around, there was no need to buy anything worthwhile.

That same Jeep that you'd refused to get into the passenger seat of one night. You were leaving a friend's Thanksgiving. He'd had too much to drink. You begged him to let you drive, seeing that you were sober - he wouldn't have any of it.

He'd left you in the driveway of your friend's place along the water, snow and all. Annapolis police had him in their custody not even twenty minutes later. Jake had friends in the navy ranks in Maryland, that had helped him avoid a dishonorable discharge at the time - he no longer had those friends.

He also no longer had you.

Jake makes sure his rental is locked before he starts down the road in the direction of the naval base.

His steps are uneasy, a bit sporadic as he walks aimlessly in one direction. A film reel serves as his entertainment for his walk back. Scenes from two years of love, a whole six months of downward spiral toward heartbreak. Total, gut-wrenching and life wrecking heartache. Self-inflicted he now realizes.

The breakup was sharp. His things were packed up. Put into the Liberty. You'd taken your key back, deleted your number from his phone and told him to forget you even lived on the same continent. He'd promised you'd never hear from him.

Jake looks up after a cold round drop plops onto his head. Followed by another. His feet stop walking as he stares up at the rain beginning to fall, the street lamps serving as a backdrop as the downpour begins. He stands there. Watching the rain. His head drops to meet the river running under him, the bridge he stands on giving a viewing point as the speed picks up.

A car slows to a stop just behind him. The headlights make him squint, slowly moving a hand up to block the LEDs that blind him.

"It's a bit wet out here, don't you think?" A voice calls from the side of the vehicle, the door shutting in tandem to another on the symmetrical side of the car.

"Rain'll do that." He snidely retorts, leaning into the jersey barrier along the bridge.

"You think you might wanna find a dry place to settle in? It's getting late, afterall." A second voice consoles him, and Jake realizes why the lights are so damn bright. He'd recognize the striping of the Anapolis police anywhere.

"Ah, I'm-" Another hiccup, "I'm trying to." An older male comes in the rain, graying facial hair, a well trimmed beard as he approaches.

"You look a little lost there, boy."

If only this damn officer knew the half of it.

Neither of them mention his slow reaction times. Or reveal that they'd received a tip from a rather concerned bartender. Instead, they carefully guide him to the backseat of the cruiser. No handcuffs are involved, no harsh words spoken, not a single arrest made.

That doesn't stop Jake from reciting your name, your address and phone number.

Anapolis' police station is dated. The linoleum is scuffed and worn - a creamier brown than he remembers.

"You.. wanna call somebody to come get you, son?"

"I've got- I'll just call her. She'll come." When he pulls his phone from his pocket it's either too cold, too wet, or too dead - or some combination of the three.

The officer with the mustache that matched that of an old friend's hands him two dollars in change, pointing him in the direction of the payphones.

Nine digits. He's got them memorized, though he swore he would forget them.

One ring. Two rings. Four.

Finally- "Hello?"

Your name leaves his lips like a prayer.

The end tone sounds like a gunshot.

Another pair of quarters.

Dial tone. Ring three. Ring four. Voicemail.

Two dollars gone.

"Alright, kid, lets get you sat down for a minute." Jake firms up like an oak tree when the officer grabs his shoulder.

"Hold on, just- I need a charger. Something- she'll call. You've got more change? Just a quarter-" He turns to a nearby woman, desperately leaning toward her, his balance wavering enough that the cop comes to his shoulder again to keep him upright.

"Have you had much to drink tonight, son?"

"I- Didn't- she's gonna call." He mumbles as the officer slowly guides him to a seat. Green eyes look up at the older man and then to the tinted window at the end of the corridor.

"Hate to tell you this... but I don't think she will."

Jake shoots up again, almost falling on his ass.

"She will- I- let me call her again- just one more time-"

The officer resists Jake and his sluggish effort to move back to the phones, finally gripping onto the pilot.

"Sit. I'm gonna get you some water and we-"

"Fuck that. Sir. I just need to get her on the phone- she's not far she-" His words begin on a carousel. Coming back again and again, repeating in the same pattern.

The plastic cup of water in his hands grows warm as he sits in the station. Two officers talk among themselves as they keep an eye on him, mentioning your name. Your address.

The phone number you refuse to use if he is on the other end of the line.

And he waits.

230312 caratland 2023 d-3 – wonwoo dancing to attention by newjeans! (©)

Sixth Sense // Mickey Garcia

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

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

Word Count: 1.7k

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

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A gas explosion. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got her ma’am—“ 

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

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