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petersluvbug · 4 days ago

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aloha again | part 1

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x reader

You and Bradley haven't been in the same room for more than an hour in two years, not since the bitter divorce anyway - but when your kids ask for one last family vacation, you end up in paradise... with your new partners tagging along.

What starts as awkward co-parenting under the Hawaiian sun quickly turns into something else entirely. Old sparks resurface and tension builds, and your kids? They have a secret plan to get their parents back together, whether mom and dad like it or not.

length: 3k

masterlist

Bradley sat next to Amy in the airport, but he couldn’t focus on her too much. He knew she was talking, something about catching a tan in Hawaii or UV rays, he wasn't sure. He had his eyes fixed on the crowd, looking for you and the kids. His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest.

It's not like he hadn't seen you in a while, in fact, he'd seen you just two weeks ago at Jack's baseball game. This was different though. This was a whole week with you in Hawaii, and not just you either. Greg too. He wasn't looking forward to meeting him. At least you'd already met Amy, then again, he knew you'd still be making sarcastic comments wherever you could.

And he would have to try his hardest not to laugh at them.

“You’re so fidgety, babe.” Amy sighed, snapping Bradley out of his thoughts.

He glanced over at her, before his eyes quickly returned to the crowd. “Sorry,” he murmured, tapping his fingers on his knee. “Just excited to see the kids.”

Amy grinned. “Me too! This trip will be so good for all of us to bond, you know? It’s healing. Don’t you think?”

Bradley nodded absentmindedly, his mind still occupied with thoughts of seeing you. He couldn't help but think about the last time you'd gone to Hawaii, the kids had been young then, you'd been a family. Happy and carefree.

How things have changed.

“Yeah,” he muttered eventually. “Yeah, bonding is good.”

Amy chuckled, “I’ll go grab you a bottle of water. Don’t stress too much, it’ll give you wrinkles.”

She playfully tapped his forehead and sauntered off to the nearest shop, heels clicking and hair swishing, while Bradley kept his eyes on the crowd, trying to calm his nerves.

He spotted you first – you, Ava and Jack, manoeuvring through the terminal like a mini hurricane of backpacks and carry-ons. Your hair was up in a bun, sunglasses perched on your head, shirt tied around your waist. You looked tired. And beautiful. Annoyingly both.

Ava was dragging a suitcase half her size, chatting non-stop. Jack was trailing behind, clutching onto his stuffed turtle and glancing around the busy airport in awe.

Bradley straightened up from the airport bench, clutching his coffee cup like it could shield him from what was coming.

“Dad!”

Ava broke into a run as soon as she saw him, nearly bowling him over with a hug. Bradley’s face softened as she ran up to him, wrapping her arms around him. He immediately leaned down and scooped her up into a tight hug.

“Hey Bug,” he said, kissing her head. “I missed you.”

Jack was next, rushing over to grab his leg, “Hey Dad!”

“Hey, kiddo!” Bradley chuckled, ruffling Jack’s curls.

And then there was you.

You came up slowly, one hand adjusting the strap on your bag, a faint smile on your lips. That smile always got to him. It wasn’t soft or flirtatious. It was... knowing.

Like you already had the upper hand.

Then again, you always did. From the very first date. He had to quickly shake that thought away.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey,” he echoed. “You made it.”

“Barely. Jack tried to smuggle a juice box through security like it was contraband.”

“I was thristy,” Jack muttered.

Before Bradley could come up with anything clever to say, he heard the sound of heels – fast, bright, chirpy.

“Baby! I got your water!” Amy’s voice cut through the moment like a needle on vinyl. She strode over, all legs and lip gloss, her crop top reading Aloha From Paradise.

She kissed Bradley’s cheek, then turned to you with a too-bright smile. “Good to see you again!”

You gave her a smile with just enough curve to be considered polite. “Amy. I see your vacation wardrobe survived the glitter explosion.”

Amy blinked, still smiling. “You’re funny.”

“She thinks so,” Bradley muttered, mostly to himself.

Before the awkward could settle, Greg arrived – power-walking with a manila folder in one hand and determination in the other. He was already sweating through his pale blue button down.

Bradley didn't like him already.

“Hey!” he said, loud and breathy. “Sorry I’m late – parking was chaos. I almost forgot the itineraries, can you believe that? You know how I like to stay organised.”

“Oh, we know.” you said, slipping the folder he handed you into your tote without glancing at it.

Greg turned to the group like he was about to give a speech. “Greg,” he said, sticking out his hand to Bradley. “I’m - well – I'm the boyfriend, but I'm sure you knew that already.”

Bradley shook his hand, firm and silent.

Greg’s smile twitched. “Right. So. Looking forward to the, uh... blended-family bonding time. Big trip. Big memories. Am I right?”

“Mhm,” Bradley said. He knew he was probably being a little harsh, intimidating the guy before even getting to know him. But he couldn't help it.

Greg coughed. “So. This must be your girlfriend.” he gave Amy a polite smile, who waved brightly back to him, clearly oblivious to the lingering tension.

Bradley glanced at Amy, who was now checking herself out in a mirrored column. “Yeah. Amy.”

“She seems... lovely.”

“She likes juice cleanses,” you offered, too sweetly. “We’re all very proud.”

Amy perked up. “Oh yeah! I brought powdered greens for everyone! We can start every morning alkaline.”

Ava made a gagging sound. Jack muttered, “I don't wanna drink seaweed water.”

You bit back a laugh and cleared your throat, “Alright, come on,” you said. “Let’s find our gate before we start a custody battle in the food court.”

As you started to walk, Ava leaned in beside you and whispered, “This is gonna be a disaster, isn’t it?”

You smiled, eyes straight ahead. “That’s what makes it a vacation.”

The cabin lights dimmed as the plane levelled out somewhere over the Pacific. The kids were mid-movie, headphones on and snacks in hand. Greg was nose-deep in a printout titled ‘Suggested Cultural Activities by Island’, and Amy had brought a travel neck pillow, a face mask, and exactly zero chill.

Bradley sat two rows back from you – diagonal, with just enough visibility to not look like he was watching you. Except... he was.

You had your hand curled around the armrest, white-knuckled. Your foot tapped a silent rhythm on the floor and you hadn’t touched your ginger ale. He knew that look. Knew the way you clenched your jaw during takeoff, the exact point in the flight your stomach dropped even if the plane didn’t.

Amy nudged him. “Are you even listening to me?”

Bradley blinked. “Huh?”

“I said we should look into a couples’ massage when we land. Loosen up.” her manicured fingers ran lightly up his arm. “You’re tense.”

“Just thinking,” he muttered.

“About your ex-wife?” she said, fake-joking. “Because you keep glancing at her like she owes you money.”

Bradley shrugged, trying to seem casual. “She’s scared of flying. I was concerned.”

Amy huffed and pulled her eye mask down. “Wake me up when there’s champagne.”

Meanwhile, you took a deep breath in your seat, trying to stay calm.

Greg glanced your way. "I really don't know why you get so scared. The probability of this plane crashing is extremely low-"

"Can you not say the word 'crash'?" you groaned, taking another slow breath.

Greg chuckled. "I'm just saying! It's like.. 1 in 1.2 million, or something like that. You're overreacting. Just... have some champagne."

You bit your tongue, holding back the urge to take his stupid pamphlet and rip it to pieces. "I'm going to the bathroom." you mumbled instead.

As you got up, glancing over at the kids briefly to check on them, you bumped straight into someone in the narrow aisle. Not someone, you realised, Bradley. Just your luck.

“Of course,” you muttered. “Can’t even pee without a territorial dispute.”

Bradley gestured with mock chivalry. “Ladies first. Always happy to be assaulted mid-air.”

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him. He waited a beat, then followed you into the galley, where you both had to pause – trapped by the beverage cart and a flight attendant sorting coffee stirrers.

Bradley glanced sideways. “You uh, doing okay?"

You frowned, barely glancing at him. "What?"

"Flying." he said awkwardly. "I know you don't like it, just wanted to make sure you're okay."

You straightened up at that. "Yeah. Fine. Greg's been... helpful."

You had to hold back the eye roll, because really, Greg had been as helpful as Jack's stuffed turtle.

Bradley nodded slowly. "Yeah. Greg.”

You sighed. “What about him?”

“You’ve been dating him almost a year and this is the first time I’m meeting the guy?”

“Well, we’re usually not sharing an itinerary, Bradley.”

Bradley leaned against the wall. “Still. You introduced him to the kids, not to me.”

You smirked, “Would you have taken him out for a beer?”

“Probably not." Bradley smiled a little, amused despite himself, "But I could have at least braced myself for the endless zip-off cargo shorts.”

You snorted at that. “He’s a practical dresser.”

“He looks like he packs snacks in his socks.”

“At least he doesn’t carry an emotional support water bottle everywhere,” you shot back.

Bradley blinked. “Amy’s water bottle is for hydration.”

“It’s a Stanley cup the size of a toddler,” you deadpanned. “She looks like she’s about to rappel down a canyon every time she enters a room.”

He bit back a grin. “That’s rich coming from someone who’s dating a guy that brings an itinerary on vacation.”

“Bradley,” you said sweetly, “your girlfriend asked the TSA agent if she could bring her rose quartz in her carry-on for ‘energetic alignment’.”

He laughed, despite himself. “She’s into wellness.”

“She thinks sunscreen clogs chakras.”

“She said that once.”

“She said it twice. Once to Jack.”

Bradley rubbed a hand over his face. “Okay, fine. Yes. She’s... a lot.”

“She’s a yoga instructor who refuses to bend her knees when she walks,” you muttered. “it’s like watching a giraffe in stilettos.”

He shook his head, but his voice softened. “You really don’t like her, huh?”

You shrugged, then said, not unkindly, “She's not my problem. Just... surprising. You always went for sharp. Amy’s... smooth.”

Bradley didn’t answer right away.

You shifted your weight. “Look, this week isn’t about her. Or Greg. Or us, either. This is for the kids. We need a truce.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Temporary?”

“Obviously.”

Bradley extended his hand. “Temporary friends.”

You shook it, eyes narrowed. “With terms.”

“No snide comments.”

“No pouting.”

“No subtle jabs.”

You raised a finger. “Except about Amy’s alignment crystals. Those are fair game.”

He smiled. “You got yourself a deal.”

As the bathroom door opened, you stepped forward, but before you ducked inside, you leaned toward him and added with a smirk, “Also, don’t pretend you’re not curious about Greg. It’s showing.”

Bradley watched the door close behind you.

“...Yeah.” he muttered. “It really is.”

The sun dipped low as the car pulled into the resort driveway, casting long shadows over the palms. The ocean glittered just beyond the edge of the property, and Ava let out a delighted gasp as the sleek hotel came into view, pressing her face to the window.

“We’re staying here?” she breathed.

You smiled. “Told you it wouldn’t disappoint, birthday girl.”

You both climbed out of the car, and Bradley stepped out beside you, adjusting his sunglasses. “You really went all out, huh?”

You shrugged. “I like making our kids happy.”

He glanced at you behind his aviators, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Then Amy arrived at his side, snapping a quick selfie with the entrance behind her. “This place is everything. Healing vibes! Right, babe?”

Bardley gave a noncommital hum.

Greg joined you last, brushing invisible lint from his polo and nodding appreciatively. “This is very tasteful. I read they serve fresh papaya every morning.”

You looped your arm through his – casual, but purposeful. “That’s why I picked it. You love papaya.”

Bradley didn’t say anything, but he looked.

Inside, check-in was smooth until the clerk explained the suites weren’t adjoining, just next to each other – each with two bedrooms and a pull out couch.

“So,” you said, glancing over the layout. “Two rooms per suite.”

“We’ll take the kids tonight,” Amy said brightly, already grabbing one of the key cards and gesturing between you and Greg. “Give you two some space to unwind.”

You tilted your head. “That’s sweet of you to offer but-”

“You look exhausted, sweetie." Amy added, cutting you off. "You should enjoy a quiet night. Maybe turn in early with Greg?”

Bradley’s posture stiffened. You didn’t miss it.

You let the comment hang in the air before gently squeezing Greg’s arm. “What a great idea.” you forced out.

Greg smiled, clearly pleased. “We could sit on the balcony. I brought a list of local architecture we might spot from the view.”

You forced a smile and patted his arm. “And that is why I keep you around.”

Bradley snorted, but after a quick glare from you, he covered it with a cough.

Ava tried to hide her smile too. “So.. Tonight me and Jack stay with Amy and Dad, then we can stay with you and Greg tomorrow?”

You tousled your hair. “Sounds like a plan.”

Amy clapped. “Great! I’m so excited to hang with you two!” she turned to you then, “Seriously, get some rest. You deserve it.”

You smiled too sweetly. “Thanks, Amy. You too. Dont tire yourself out trying too hard.”

Greg blinked. “Trying too hard at what?”

You patted his chest. “Nothing, darling.”

You all moved towards the elevators, divvying up keys and bags. You and Greg peeled off toward your suite, while the kids and Amy headed into the one next door.

Bradley hung back a second, catching your eye as you passed. “You two seem... solid.” he said quietly.

You smiled, voice breezy. “He’s sweet. Reliable.”

“You like reliable now?”

You shrugged. “It makes a nice change.”

Bradley watched you walk away, Greg’s hand resting lightly on your lower back.

“Have fun with Amy,” you added wihtout looking back. “She seems like a lot of fun.”

Bradley stared after you, jaw tightening. “Yeah. Tons.”

Later that night, the sky outside the suite was an inky navy, moonlight streaking across the waves like spilled silver. The first night in paradise should have been peaceful.

But inside the suite, chaos had a name.

And it was Amy.

“Okay! So who wants to do lava rock face masks and manifestation journalling?” Amy called from the kitchenette, waving two tiny notebooks she’d bought at the airport gift shop. “We’ll do it in matching pyjamas! Wait, did I pack those?”

Ava and Jack sat side by side on the couch, both blinking like polite hostages.

“I mean, we’re kind of tired.” Jack offered.

“Aw, nooo, come on!” Amy flounced onto the couch beside them, pulling Ava in for a squishing hug. “Vacation isn’t for sleeping – it's for bonding! This is so special! You guys and I finally have a chance to get to know each other!”

Ava gave her a faint smile, then looked over her head at her dad, who had emerged from one of the bedrooms with freshly brushed hair and a worn Top Gun t-shirt.

“Alright, that’s enough excitement for one night.” Bradley said, his tone gentle but firm. “Let’s let them crash.”

Amy pouted, but he gave her a look, and she lifted her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. Ruin all my fun."

Bradley smiled tightly and led the kids into their bedroom. Each chose a bed and settled onto it while Bradley kneeled between them. “You two good in here?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah.”

“Need anything?”

“Maybe a dad who doesn't date people who say ‘manifestation journaling.’” Ava muttered under her breath.

Bradley chuckled and stood, kissing her forehead. “Watch it, birthday girl.” He turned to Jack and ruffled his hair. “Night, buddy.”

“Night.”

He gave the room a final once-over, then quietly shut the door behind them.

The room went still, the only sound the gentle hum of the ceiling fan.

Ava rolled onto her side to face Jack. “That was... a lot.”

“She hugged me so tight I thought I stopped breathing for a second.”

Ava snorted. Then, after a moment, “Do you think Mom’s night was any better?”

Jack was quiet for a beat. “Probably not. Greg said he brought conversation cards. I don’t know what they are... but they don’t sound fun.”

They lay in the dark for a moment, side by side, but worlds away in thought.

“I wish they were still together,” Ava whispered finally.

Jack didn’t answer right away, then, “Me too.”

She turned toward him. “They were happy, right? Like, for real?”

Jack's face scrunched up in thought. "Mom definitely laughed more before. And it didn't sound as fake."

Ava nodded. "And Dad wasn't always frowning." she paused. "I don't even know why they got divorced. Everything was so much better when Dad lived with us and they were together."

A beat passed, then Jack sat up suddenly, “I have an idea.”

“Oh no.”

“Operation Volcano.” He said excitedly, turning to Ava.

Ava blinked. “What?”

“That’s what we’ll call it. Our secret mission to get them back together and get rid of Amy and Greg. Once and for all.”

Ava sat up slowly, “...Why Volcano?”

“We’re in Hawaii. Duh.” Jack shrugged. "It makes perfect sense. We'll sneak around, annoy Amy and Greg, and show Mom and Dad that they belong together."

“Jack, this isn’t a spy movie-”

“Exactly! It’s a heist. But for love.” he grinned. “And we’re the team who saves the day.”

Ava stared at him, then slowly grinned back. “Can I be the leader?"

“Hey! This was my idea." He huffed, then sighed, "Co-leader.” he insisted.

“Fine." Ava rolled her eyes.

They fist-bumped from across the two single beds.

"Alright, where do we start?”

---

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@petersluvbug

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@shanimallina87

#i love this so much already omg #the banter is beautiful i love it #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #top gun maverick

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petersluvbug · 8 days ago

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practice

john walker x ex widow!reader

"Was that your first kiss since your divorce?"

"That bad, huh?"

"I didn't say that."

word count: 4.2k

author's note: imagine the conversation between steve and nat in the winter soldier but make it reader and walker 🤭

warnings/tags: 18+ only, kissing and suggestiveness, sensuality, tension, bickering, canon level violence, undercover couple trope, no use of y/n

“I swear to God, Walker. You're making this so obvious. Stop staring.”

You kick his shin beneath the table where you sit across him. The two of you are nestled in the corner of the overcrowded room full of party-goers, trying your best to remain inconspicuous.

You're trying your hardest to remain inconspicuous. Your partner, on the other hand, has been ogling the target from across the room for the last half hour.

He shoots daggers at you with his eyes. “Oh, I'm sorry,” he spits under his breath. “Is that not what I’m supposed to be doing? Keeping an eye on the target?”

“There’s a difference between keeping an eye on someone and eye-fucking them,” you hiss.

Walker scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m not eye-fucking him. Jesus. We don’t all have backgrounds as highly trained spies, you know.”

Maybe you’re being a little too harsh on him. This is his first true undercover operation since the formation of The New Avengers. He’s a soldier, after all – not a spy. It's no secret that he hadn’t exactly been jumping at the bits to put on a fancy suit and pretend to be your date tonight, but at least he’s kept his bitching and moaning to a minimum.

Despite his little staring problem, he’s otherwise played his part well. Touchy enough for it to be believable that you’re here as each other’s dates, but not too touchy. An arm around your shoulder here, a light hand on your waist there. Hesitant, and a little awkward, but you’re the only one who notices – everyone else here is too busy stroking each other’s dicks to read into your forced public displays of affection.

You lean over the small table, taking his hand in yours in an effort to play your part. “Just glance in his direction regularly,” you advise lowly. “We aren't here to analyze his every movement. Until he goes to meet the seller, we can relax.”

Which is exactly what you’ve been doing since you first arrived at the estate this evening. Mingling, sipping on mocktails to keep up appearances, just trying to blend in while keeping watch on the man that you’d been tasked to spy on.

This entire party is supposedly a cover for the owner of the estate to meet up with a vibranium arms dealer – based off of the limited information Valentina had provided, the owner of the estate, Alexander Sokolov, had arranged for a meeting with a vibranium arms dealer to take place here tonight. Your and Walker’s objective – wait for Sokolov to excuse himself from the party, follow him, and eavesdrop. Valentina wants you to find out who this dealer is and when this deal will go down.

To sum it up, you’re only here for intel. As long as things go according to plan, there should be no reason for either of you to get your hands dirty tonight.

“I’m just a little on edge. I’m not used to missions looking like… this.” He nods down at where your hand holds his, and then vaguely gestures with his free hand to your surroundings – the grand piano in the corner of the room, the full service bar, the extravagant décor and all of the ridiculously rich assholes in attendance.

His lack of experience in this area is exactly where you come in, you suppose. Undercover ops, taking on someone else’s identity – you’ve been there, done that more times than you can count. It’s second nature to you.

Normally, you’d be right in your element. But this – holding hands, soft touches, close whispers, exaggerated longing looks with a teammate, a partner, someone that you actually care about – is brand new territory.

You’re just a little better at hiding it than he is, is all.

“Just look at me more than you look at him,” you suggest lightly. “Like it or not, I am your date.”

He snorts a laugh, then lifts his drink to his face in an effort to conceal the light blush on his cheeks. “I’m a bit out of practice, I guess. I haven’t been on a date since—”

“He’s leaving,” you interrupt him, your eyes trailing after Sokolov as he struts to the opposite side of the room. You stand up, not dropping Walker’s hand. He follows your lead, rising from his seat.

He's been a little unsure of himself so far this evening, so it surprises you when he puts his hand on the small of your back and begins to guide you across the floor. No one seems to notice that Sokolov exits the room, except for a security guard that follows him when he exits.

“Remember,” you murmur as you make you way through the throng of people, “If anyone asks where we are going, we are just looking for the bathrooms.”

“The bathrooms are in the opposite direction. There’s only about a dozen signs for them,” he hisses under his breath.

“Well, we better not get caught, then,” you retort through gritted teeth as you poke him in the side with a saccharine smile, just in case anyone is looking your way.

He responds with an exaggerated laugh that earns glances from a group of older women congregated by the door that Sokolov had just walked through moments before.

“Smooth,” you grunt as soon as the two of you are out of ear shot of the other guests. Sokolov and the guard turn left as they reach the end of the long corridor, leaving it vacant except for you and Walker.

As silently as possible, you both follow them, unsure of exactly where they are headed within the mansion. You assume a private room; an office or a study – but then they exit the house completely through a door on the opposite side of the house from the party.

You peak out of a window as Walker stands obnoxiously close to your backside. You’re unsure if it’s due to nerves or general lack of spatial awareness, but you bite your tongue and focus on the scene at hand.

It's dark outside, but there’s enough flood and path lights to see that Sokolov and his guard are standing in the middle of an extravagant courtyard garden. A moment later, a third man appears from an entryway on the west side of the courtyard. You don’t recognize him as a guest of the party, but Sokolov obviously knows him well by the way he greets him with a chummy grin and enthusiastic handshake.

“Any idea who he is?” You whisper to Walker.

“Not a clue,” he grunts lowly, close enough that you feel the vibration of his chest against your back. “How should we proceed?”

It takes you by surprise that he asks for your direction. It goes against Walker’s nature to take orders from anyone, and being the shoot first, ask questions later kind of guy that he usually is, you halfway expected him to forget that you're only here for intel and charge at the guy on sight.

“Can you hear anything that they're saying? Read their lips?” You ask hopefully, glancing around dark room - an open floor kitchen and dining room – to brainstorm. Your regular human hearing and eyesight can’t make out the first word from inside the house, but you hold out hope knowing that the super soldier serum that courses through Walker’s veins heightens his senses.

“No,” he sighs. “They’re too far away, their voices are mumbled.”

If the two of you were to attempt to exit out of the same door they did, you’d be spotted right away. But to your right, on the other side of the dining room, there’s a sliding glass door. If you can ease it open, you'll be able to sneak outside and listen from behind the exterior wall of the house.

Walker follows your gaze, noticing the door and realizing what you’re thinking without you needing to say a word. You walk as quietly and quickly as you can manage in your heels, flipping the lock to the door and slowly easing it open until the there's a big enough opening for Walker’s large frame to squeeze through. It creaks a bit, but Sokolov and the seller keep talking, oblivious to your presence.

Right at the edge of the house, there’s a large potted plant that helps to conceal you both. You stand the closest to the plant, with Walker right behind you, still close enough for his chest to brush against your back. You listen in silence, waiting for Sokolov or the seller to mention anything of value. They talk lowly – still too quiet for you to make much out other than a random word here and there.

“Next weekend,” Walker whispers next to your ear. “Deal’s going down next Saturday night. Over two million in vibranium weapons.”

“Have they said where?” you whisper back. “What about a name? We need to get an ID on this guy.”

He shakes his head, exhaling in frustration.

Goddammit. They aren’t making your jobs easy.

You open your clutch, reaching inside to retrieve your cell phone. If you could just part the branches and leaves on this plant enough, you could zoom in to at least get a photograph of the seller’s face to run through facial recognition programs…

“Shit, shit, fuck—”

As you’re trying to zip the clutch closed so that nothing falls out of it, you lose your grip on your cell phone and it falls out of your hand, onto the cement pavement at your feet. It makes a loud enough noise to cause both you and Walker to freeze.

Sokolov and the seller both go silent. There’s no way they didn’t hear that.

“Let’s go—”

“No time to run,” Walker cuts you off.

“Who is there?” Sokolov’s voice booms from a few yards away. “Show yourselves!”

Their footsteps grow louder as they walk towards your and Walker’s hiding spot. You have maybe five seconds to think of a game plan that doesn’t involve shooting your way out of this –

“Don’t kick me in the dick for what I’m about to do,” Walker mumbles, shaking his head.

You open your mouth to ask him what he’s talking about when he maneuvers you up against the side of the house. Your back collides against the wall, and his large hands caress the sides of your stomach. You gasp in surprise, but the noise is muffled by his lips capturing yours.

Oh. So this is the game plan, then.

You run with it, knowing there’s no time to flee or think of any plausible explanation as to why the two of you are so far away from the party, in an off-limits part of the estate.

Your hands instinctively fly to his head, your fingers weaving through the short tufts of his blond hair. It’s rushed and messy, his tongue dancing with yours for dominance. For a split-second, you forget where you are and why this is happening. There’s no fear or worry at the fact that you’re seconds away from being caught – there’s only the scruff of his beard tickling your jaw, the musky scent of his cologne that infiltrates your senses, and an undeniable heat between your legs.

His movements are uncertain yet enthusiastic – you’re sure it’s due to the rather unusual predicament that you’ve found yourselves in, but there’s a part of you that wonders if the kiss would be the same under different circumstances.

You can hear voices yelling at you, masculine and angry, but you can’t make out what they are saying over the deafening rush of blood in your ears. Walker pulls away with a low groan that snaps you back to reality.

There’s a small voice in the back of your mind scolding you for actually enjoying that, but you’ll have to process that later. When you're far the fuck away from here and Walker isn’t still gripping your hips like a lifeline. Your eyes meet for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to see his dilated pupils and then kiss swollen lips before the gravity of the situation sets in.

“Can you two not fucking hear?” Sokolov yells. “I said who the fuck are you and what are you doing here? This area is off-limits to guests!”

Sokolov and the seller both stand several feet behind Sokolov’s security guard, who has a Glock 17 pointed right at the two of you. You recognize the pistol right away – its little sister, Glock 19, is concealed in your clutch.

“Oh!” You exclaim, feigning shock and embarrassment. You smooth down your dress where Walker’s hold had bunched up the fabric, and then wrap your arms around his bicep as the two of you turn to face the three men. “We’re so sorry. We were on our way back to our car when we saw the garden and just couldn’t help ourselves—”

“Right,” Walker agrees, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. “We apologize. We just lost track of time. We’ll be going—”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Sokolov barks. “I asked you a question. Who the fuck are you?”

You feel him tense beneath your hold on his arm. You give him a reassuring squeeze as if to say don’t escalate. Before you can attempt to bullshit Sokolov further with your undercover names, the seller steps forward with a look of apprehension.

“I recognize you,” the older, paunchy looking man grunts at Walker. “I’ve seen you somewhere. What's your name?”

You glance up at your partner to see that he looks like a deer in the headlights. It takes you back to the time you had first met him – when you’d been tasked with killing him, only to join forces with him, Yelena, Ava, and Bob in an effort to escape the warehouse facility Valentina had sent you all to burn alive in. During the attempt to steal a Humvee while in disguise, you had been asked to identify yourselves.

Walker’s response to that demand had been “no”.

Perhaps lying under pressure isn’t his strong suit.

“My name is Isobel Callaway, and this is my date, Mason Aldridge,” you answer when Walker hesitates for an awkward amount of time. “I have our invitations right here, if you’d like to see—”

“He wasn't talking to you,” Sokolov snaps. It takes everything in you to not pull your pistol from your clutch and end this all right here and now, but if Walker can manage to keep a level head, then so can you.

“No, he’s right,” Sokolov muses, stepping forward to take a closer look at Walker. His lips contort into a sinister smile. “I know you. You’re that knock-off Captain America. Well, you were. What the fuck are you doing creeping around my property?”

Another brief moment of awkward silence, and then Walker lunges forward, wrapping his hand around the barrel of the security guard’s pistol. The guard fires a shot, but Walker easily overpowers him in strength and the bullet goes flying towards the night sky. Within seconds, Walker takes the gun and sends the guard flying backwards from a mere punch to the sternum.

Walker grabs you by the arm as Sokolov and the seller both start scrambling to retrieve their own firearms from the their coat pockets. You run as fast as you can to keep up with Walker as he all but hauls you across the courtyard, all while internally cursing the fact that you’d chosen to wear the pointiest stiletto heels that you own.

Both men fire a series of bullets in your general direction, but they only succeed in hitting Sokolov’s garden statues. Right as the parking lot comes into view, you see several more guards running towards you and Walker from the opposite direction. You scramble to retrieve the car keys from your clutch, tossing them to Walker as you dive into the passenger seat. He wastes no time throwing the car into reverse, speeding away from the estate as dozens of bullets bounce off the vehicle’s bulletproof windows.

“Damn it,” you breathe. Adrenaline courses through you as you try to catch your breath. The security guards and the estate grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. “That was a bust. Val is gonna be so pissed at me. And I left my phone. That phone was brand new, too…”

“Who gives a shit about Val,” Walker grunts in what sounds like discomfort. “We’ll tell her that the seller never showed and Sokolov spent the evening getting shit-faced off of his expensive bourbon collection.”

His response takes you by surprise – you had been bracing yourself for him to bitch you out for dropping your cell phone and biffing the entire operation. You side-eye him, noticing that his face is contorted into a grimace.

“You good?” you ask, angling your body to get a better look at him. It’s too dark to see him very well, but judging by his facial expression, he’s in some sort of pain.

“Yeah,” he hisses, removing one hand from the steering wheel to turn the car’s interior light on. “I’ll be fine, just got graz—”

“Holy shit, John!”

He pulls back the right side of his coat, revealing his white button-up shirt to be dyed bright crimson across his abdomen. He yanks the fabric upwards, revealing a bloody gash where a bullet had skimmed his right side.

“We need to get somewhere safe,” you tell him, trying not to panic. It doesn’t appear to be too deep, but he’s already bled quite a bit. It needs to at least be cleaned and dressed, if nothing else. “You need to apply pressure to that. There’s a first aid kit in the trunk—”

“I’m fine,” he interrupts you. “The bleeding will slack off soon enough. Let’s just get back to the Watchtow—”

“No,” you shake your head with finality. “We’re three hours from Manhattan. We're stopping for the night. There’s a safe house twenty minutes from here.”

You put the address to the safe house in the GPS, and to your surprise, Walker doesn’t object any further. You consider offering to drive, but you know he'll insist that he’s fine – and he will be fine, thanks to the super soldier serum that causes him to heal quicker than most would. But he’s still human, so it's still important that he bandages a fucking gunshot wound.

That’s your rationale for insisting on stopping at the safe house for the night, anyway. It doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that him pushing you up against the wall and kissing you like your lives depended on it is clouding your judgment.

It was for the mission. He never would have kissed you otherwise. You know this, and yet you can't stop replaying it in your head. The scruff of his beard, his hold on your waist, the slightly awkward yet eager way his lips moved against yours…

You clench your thighs together where you sit in the passenger seat, internally cursing yourself for even thinking about Walker in the way that you are. He’s bleeding out beside you, and you're getting worked up over a fake kiss.

After what feels like an exceptionally long car ride, you arrive at the safe house – though it can hardly be called a house – it's barely bigger than a shed. You’ll be lucky if there's one bed, let alone two.

Walker goes inside while you retrieve the first aid kit from the trunk of the car. When you enter a few moments later, he's already shed both his jacket and button-up. He sits on the couch, blood caked across his abdomen.

No one should look that good covered in blood. It isn't right.

“See?” He sighs as you lock the door behind you. “It has already stopped bleeding.”

“Good,” you hum, breaking your stare on him. You glance around the small kitchen for some additional supplies to distract yourself from how warm your face feels. You manage to find a singular hand towel, which you run under warm water to use to clean the blood off of him.

When you walk over to him with the first aid kit and towel, he reaches out to take the supplies from you. You sit down beside him on the small couch’s limited amount of space, shaking your head.

“Let me,” you insist. “It’s my fault this happened, anyway.”

He stares at you for a moment, his expression indecipherable, and then nods. He raises his right arm to give you access to his side, resting it on the back of the couch.

You delicately swipe the damp cloth across his stomach, starting with the dried blood matted in the hair around his belly button. The intimacy of the situation isn’t loss on you, but you don’t let yourself dwell on it. He’s perfectly capable of cleaning himself up, but there’s something compelling you to be close to him.

You clear your throat after a minute of thick silence. “I have a question for you. Which you do not have to answer – I feel like if you don’t answer it though, you’re kind of answering it, you know?”

He exhales in annoyance, though his stare is curious. “What?”

“Was that your first kiss since your divorce?”

He chuckles, throwing his head back against the couch to stare up at the ceiling. “That bad, huh?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t say that.”

“Well, it kind of sounds like that’s what you’re saying.”

With his skin now clean, you move onto dressing the wound. Any normal person would have definitely needed stitches, but the gash already looks smaller than it did when he had first showed you in the car. Still, you proceed with applying an antibiotic ointment before bandaging it.

“It was,” he sighs. “My first kiss since the divorce. First kiss in almost two years. Guess I’m kind of out of practice.”

You pause, looking up at him. He meets your gaze again, his cheeks slightly pink in embarrassment.

“It wasn’t bad,” you assure him sincerely. A heavy ball of nerves settle in the pit of your stomach. “Really, I mean… despite the circumstances, I enjoyed it. I don’t exactly get a lot of time for practice myself,” you laugh awkwardly.

It's true. Maybe it hasn’t been almost two years like it has for him, but this line of work doesn’t exactly leave you much time for dating or even casual intimacy.

“That makes two of us, then,” he chuckles softly, and then leans in closer to you. The already too small safe house suddenly feels even smaller, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“I’m sorry, though,” you murmur with a small smile. You avoid his gaze, staring down at the bloodied towel in your hand. “I hate that your first kiss in years had to be wasted on a fake mission kiss.”

He snorts. “Sorry? Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who kissed you, and I’m definitely not sorry. Unless, of course, you didn’t enjoy it or it made you uncomfortable or my breath was bad or—”

“Jesus, Walker,” you groan, shutting up his rambling by leaning forward and pulling his face to yours for the second time tonight.

For a second, he’s still. Just when you fear that you’ve imagined the tension between you and wonder if you should pull away, his lips begin to move with yours. The same enthusiasm from earlier is still present, though there’s now less uncertainty in his movements. His hands once again settle on your sides, pulling you closer to him.

Now that the two of you are alone, and there’s no threat of dangerous men shooting you at any given moment, you quickly see that he had been holding back earlier. In the privacy of the secluded safe house, he doesn’t hesitate to pull you onto his lap. You straddle him, being careful not to brush against the wound on his side.

Your hands trail down the expanse of his bare chest and his do the same to your back. He groans into your mouth, deep and guttural, and the heat between your legs flares once more. Your dress is hiked around upper thighs, allowing you grind down against the growing bulge beneath the smooth material of his pants.

You break the kiss, feeling light-headed and hazy, and look down at him. “So…” you hesitate, sweeping the pad of your thumb over his kiss-swollen bottom lip. His eyes flicker between your eyes and lips, his hands planted firmly on your hips, keeping you rooted against him.

“Is there anything else you’d like to practice, while we’re at it?”

☆☆☆☆☆☆

thank you for reading!! as always, comments and reblogs are very appreciated 🥰💕

#OMG I LOVED THIS SM #this was so cute i love it and i love him sm #john walker x reader #john walker x you #john walker #thunderbolts

686 notes · View notes

petersluvbug · 9 days ago

Text

Baby, I Loved You First

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・

⇨ 「pairing— bff!bob reynolds x fem!reader」

⇨ 「summary— bob’s been your best friend since you met him in the vault; you had an instant connection. he’s always been in love with you, but you’re too oblivious to see it, dating guys who don’t love you like bob does. but after months of watching and listening to you go on dates with random guys, bob finally has enough and tells you how he feels. what’s even better?? a storm brews in while he walks you to your date’s house.」

⇨ 「a/n— first fic on this account whoop whoop!! i’ve been obsessed with lewis pullman and thunderbolts* so i had to write for him. i haven’t written in a while so i’m a bit rusty pls bare with me. also this is kinda based on Loved You First by One Direction. i hope you enjoy!」

⇨ 「warnings— both think it’s unrequited (it’s definitely not), reader is OBLIVIOUS (but so is bob), slight mention of bob’s childhood, past addiction, & alcohol, bob’s HELLA jealous, angst, cursing, yearning!bob, fluffy ending yay!!, and i think that’s it」

⇨ 「word count— 5.5k」

You tried to sneak out of the tower unnoticed, you really did. But Bob caught you before you could even get near the elevator door, stopping you in your tracks. Geez, it was like he has a sixth sense or something.

“Where are you going?” He asked you nicely, not sternly or orderly, just politely asked you to see where you were going. You gave him a look, the look of I-know-exactly-what-you’re-doing and you weren’t going to give in. In his defense, he’s just being a good friend—your best friend—by looking out for you and making sure you’re safe.

“Out,” you responded, crossing your arms over your dress that was way too short in Bob’s opinion. You felt goosebumps crawl up your skin as Bob met your eyes and stared, and eyebrow cocked in suspicion.

He hummed, “Out… Where? Outside? It’s supposed to rain soon, I hope you know. You’ll get cold in that dress.” You rolled your eyes at him, he was being a smartass and both you and he knew it.

You scoffed, “No, doofus, out as in I’m going out. With someone.”

Bob felt a familiar feeling rise up his chest and in his stomach. He hated when you went out with random dudes who don’t even like you for you. They don’t know you like he does—don’t love you like he does.

The brunette went through every excuse to keep you here in his mind, but knew none of them would actually work. He still tried though. “Can’t you reschedule? Like I said, it’s about to rain, storm even, and it could be dangerous for you to go out.” Oh man, he was horrible at making up excuses. He struggled to find the right words to keep you here in the Watchtower with him, but they didn’t work. You really wanted to see this guy, apparently.

With a sigh, you walked over to Bob and rubbed your hand up and down his arm, “Thanks for your concern, Bob, but I’ll be okay. I can handle myself. Especially a little bit of rain.”

“But it’s gonna storm-“

You giggled, “Okay, I can handle a storm, Bob.” He sighed and looked down. There was no persuading you into staying home with him and he was finally starting to accept it. “I’ll be just fine, I promise.”

He nodded, still not meeting your gaze. “Is he picking you up, at least?” There was at least that, and it would ensure your safety which is all he cared about.

You sighed and shook your head, “No. He said it would be easier if I met him at his place so he would have more time to get ready.” Bob could hear the disappointment and embarrassment in your tone, not liking the idea of a selfish douche who won’t even pick up his date just because he needs more time to get ready.

“Are you serious?” The words flew out of Bob’s lips before he even had the chance to think about saying them. His eyes snapped up to yours, which were filled with an emotion he can’t read.

You gave him a nod, wishing you didn’t agree to go on this stupid date in the first place.

“Can I at least walk you there? I’ll leave before he sees me, I just want to make sure you get there safely.” Bob grabbed your hands that began to fumble with the fabric of your dress and held them gently.

Smiling, you nodded your head as blush crept up your cheeks and butterflies erupted in your stomach. “Of course you can.”

———

The walk to your date’s house was filled with a comfortable silence between you and Bob. There were people roaming the streets, making the usual bustle of a crowd, but it blended in the background as all you could think of was the brunette next to you.

As the crowd began to get bigger, Bob’s pinky finger found yours as you both waited for the crosswalk light to change, his heart rate picking up. Not only was he touching you, but he also hated big crowds. He always got anxious around big groups of people, always finding solace in the feeling of your pinky wrapped around his, grounding him that it’ll be okay and you were there. There with him. He’d rather stay inside all the time and avoid going out, but you dragged him out of his introvert shell without even knowing it. He would do anything for you, even if that meant being in a large crowd of strangers in the big state of New York.

“You okay?” You looked over to him with a soft look in your eyes, squeezing his pinky a little to reassure him.

He snapped out of his daze and looked down at you, “Y-yeah. I’m okay. This light is taking forever, though.” He puffed his cheeks, only making you let out a giggle. The sound of your laugh brings a smile to his lips, occupying his mind from his anxiousness with his favorite sound momentarily. He loved making you laugh, it made him feel special, and it meant so much to him.

The light finally changed, illuminating a little white silhouette of a person that instructed you to walk. The large flock of people began walking across the street, their moves quick and mindless of the others around them. You tugged Bob’s finger as you stepped onto the street, dragging him along with you to the other side.

Once you made it to the sidewalk, you looked over to Bob whose face was flushed and beat red—you assumed it was from the quick pace you were walking, but it definitely was not from that.

“That wasn’t so bad,” you spoke as the two of you strolled past stores and cafés and clubs that were surprisingly—but not really—still busy and filled with lively people. Bob nodded but stayed quiet, still following you as you turned a corner that led to a residential area.

The feeling of dread overwhelmed Bob; he knew that you were getting close to this guy’s house and hated the idea of leaving you alone with him.

This area was less crowded, you and Bob were actually the only people on this side of the street. There were a couple of others on the opposite side of the road, but where you walked it was just the two of you.

Silence filled the air around you both once again, but a loud clap of thunder broke it. Bob jumped slightly, unlacing his finger from yours to hold your hand. He hated storms, they brought back bad memories from his childhood and he always came to you for comfort during them. You remembered him telling you stories from his childhood after he got comfortable with you and trusted you, this fact being one of them.

You gripped his hand tight and tugged him closer to you, your arms pressed against each other like they were made to fit just like that. Bob let out a shaky breath as you continued walking, feeling his tense shoulders loosen a bit from your touch.

You were here. With him. It was going to be okay.

But soon you wouldn’t be with him. You would be with some random guy in his house, possibly even sitting on his couch while you waited for him to get ready. Alone. With him. Not with Bob.

He knew what he had signed up for when he offered to walk you to your date’s house. It would be pouring down rain by the time he dropped you off and walked back to the Watchtower, and even worse, it would be thundering and lightning. But he didn’t care about that. He was going to face his fears to make sure you were safe.

As you walked hand in hand, Bob couldn’t help but think of all the times he watched you go out with random men you met online or at a bar or whatever. He hated seeing you in the arms of someone else. Of another man. Another man who wasn’t him. He would see you kiss guys who don’t deserve your lips, dance with guys who don’t deserve to touch you, and get into cars of guys who don’t deserve you period.

He was sick of this. Sick of seeing your heart being taken away from him. It tears his world apart, and even worse, his heart in two. He should be the one feeling your lips on his. He should be dancing with you, even though he cannot dance whatsoever. He should be taking you on dates. He should be the one. Even though he doesn’t think he deserves it. Deserves you. Because no man could ever deserve you.

He beats himself up each day for not just telling you how he feels, but he didn’t want to ruin the great friendship the two of you shared. He couldn’t lose you, it would break him even more than watching you go out with guys who don’t actually love you.

Nothing could be worse than losing you.

Even though he loved you first and more than any other guy you dated could.

———

“Bob, you should just tell her.” Yelena’s voice spoke in his ear as he watched you dancing with some guy, his arms wrapped around your waist, hands slowly moving down your hips. God, Bob wanted to puke.

Valentina thought it was a great idea to throw a party at the Watchtower, and said it was “good publicity” for the New Avengers. The lights were dimmed and colorful lights were strung up all around the place that lit up the area. Lit up you on the dance floor and the stupid guy whose hands were sliding down a little too far for Bob’s liking.

Bob rolled his eyes with a sigh before looking down at his hands. He and Yelena sat at the bar with a perfect view of where you were dancing. He made sure to sit somewhere he could see you and make sure you were okay without disturbing your fun.

“I can’t. She doesn’t feel the same way about me,” Bob took a sip of his drink—a Shirley Temple with a few too many cherries it, just how he liked it. He didn’t drink alcohol, not since he had gotten sober from his drug addiction. He didn’t want to go down that road again.

Yelena scoffed and took a swig of her drink. “Bullshit, Bob.” She told him multiple times that she saw the way you looked at him, and that you most definitely felt the same way, but Bob never listened. He just couldn’t believe you would feel that way about him. No way. Why would you go out on so many dates with random guys if you did?

He didn’t answer her, only took another sip of his drink and chewed on one of the soft cherries as his gaze landed on you once again.

It should’ve been him dancing with you. He could’ve been where he is standing. With you and holding you so close that your bodies molded together like a completed puzzle.

It should’ve been him.

But it wasn’t.

———

The first time Bob saw you kiss a guy that wasn’t him, he felt his whole world crumble into a million pieces.

Since you were gone on a date, he felt brave and went out of the Watchtower all by himself to go to a nearby bookstore a few blocks down. He definitely didn’t pick it because it was right across the street from the restaurant you were at. Absolutely not. He wanted a certain book and it just so happened that the bookstore right across the street from you had it in stock. Definitely no other reason.

You had told him where you were going, just in case anything happened and you needed him. And he definitely did NOT force the information out of you before you left.

As he was checking out at the register with the book he came for and a few others, he peered behind the cashier and into the window to see if he could spot you. Gently grabbing the bag of books and his change from the cashier, he bid her a kind “Bye, have a nice evening.” and left the store.

His eyes finally found you, smiling and laughing at whatever your date was saying as you both made your way outside the building. He didn’t hold the door for you, and that made Bob scoff. He would’ve held the door for you. He would hold and do anything for you without being asked. But this guy didn’t.

Bob watched as the guy grabbed your wrist as you tried to start walking away. Walking back to the Watchtower. Back to Bob. He pulled you into his chest, and brought his lips to yours in an instant, his hands finding their way to cradle your head. Bob felt his insides explode in fire and fury as he watched you stand still with this guy’s hands on your head and lips on yours.

God, that should’ve been him.

He clutched the bag in his hand tightly as he watched you pull away from the kiss you and your date shared. He felt like a creep watching you like this, but reassured himself that he was just looking out for you. No harm in that.

Except there was. Watching you kiss someone else hurt. It hurt so bad because he knew that it would never be him kissing you. It hurt because you’ll never know Bob’s true feelings for you, and he knew you’d never reciprocate them.

That’s what hurts the most.

———

“Bob? Are you okay? You’re being kinda quiet,” your voice brought him back to reality. Brought him back from his torturous memories of you with other men.

He looked over at you as another clap of thunder erupted from the sky, “Yeah. I was just thinking about something, sorry.” He looked away from your concerned face and down at the concrete beneath his feet.

“Thinking about what?” You asked, but Bob immediately shook his head. He couldn’t tell you what exactly he was thinking about because he was thinking about you. Like he always was.

“Nothing. It’s not important,” he shook off, not wanting to discuss it anymore. You just nodded and went along with it, noticing how something was bothering him but didn’t push because it was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it.

After walking for a few more minutes, you finally stopped in front of what Bob assumed was your date’s house. His heart rate picked up once again, not ready to be alone without you with him.

“Well, this is the place,” you gestured to the building before you with your free hand. You turned to Bob with an appreciative smile on your face, “Thank you for walking with me, Bob.”

He felt a bittersweet smile form on his face, a soft nod as he spoke, “Of course, Y/n/n. Anytime.” You looked into his eyes as thunder boomed in your ears once again, making Bob squeeze your hand tightly.

“Are you going to be okay walking home?” You asked, silently communicating the fact that you know he hates storms and are concerned about him walking home alone in one.

He hesitated for a moment before nodding, “I’ll be fine.” You give him an unsure look, eyebrow raised. He laughed softly, “I’m serious, Y/n, I’ll be okay. If it makes you feel better, I’ll text you when I get back home.”

You sighed, “Please do.” He gave you a smile in response as you let go of his hand to walk to the door. His smile faltered slightly as the he felt the cool breeze of the nighttime air touch his hand when yours left it, wishing your soft, warm hand never left his.

He heard thunder again as he turned away and started to walk back the way you both came from the Watchtower, a familiar feeling settling deep in his stomach and chest as he walked away from you. He didn’t want to leave you here. He wanted you to come back home with him and spend the rest of the night watching movies and eating junk food until 3am.

As he began to move his feet in the other direction, away from you, his mind raced through all sorts of feelings and thoughts of you and what would happen if he told you how he felt. Maybe if he told you now, you wouldn’t step through that door to that guy’s house and go out on a date with him and possibly kiss him. The thought of that idiot kissing you irked him in so many ways to the point that Bob felt nauseous.

He couldn’t let that happen. Not again. He was so sick of this feeling, of yearning for someone who constantly puts themself through shitty dates in hopes of finding the one. Why were you searching for the one when he was standing right in front of your face this whole time?

The uncertain feelings that you didn’t feel the same way flooded him in that moment of thinking, however. What if he made a big mistake and ruined your friendship forever? What if he made it awkward between the two of you? God, he can’t lose you. He’d rather lose the world and anything else than you.

Before meeting you, he never understood what love felt like, receiving and giving. He never felt love from his parents in his childhood, so he didn’t know what it looked and felt like to be loved and cared about. And because of that, he never knew how to love either. He had a hard time trusting people, and always felt like a burden to everyone. But that changed when he met you.

From the first time your eyes met his, he knew that you were different from the others. From the very beginning, you had always been gentle with him and cared about his wellbeing and made him feel wanted. You had this soft twinkle in your eyes when you looked up at him, a look he hadn’t seen from anyone else. Maybe that’s what Yelena was talking about.

“I see the way she looks at you, Bob. She only has those eyes for you.”

Yelena’s voice played through his head as he thought about the way you looked at him and no one else. Maybe it wasn’t so crazy that you felt the same way about him. But he just couldn’t for the life of him wrap that thought around his head that you could actually feel that way towards him. He wasn’t lovable, didn’t feel like he was anyway. He’d done some bad things in his past, and he believed he didn’t deserve to be loved by anyone. Especially by you.

But he knew one thing.

That guy inside didn’t deserve you either, and Bob needed to do something about it before it was too late and too far gone. You would eventually find the one, and Bob wasn’t going to let that happen.

He had to tell you how he felt, and he had to tell you now. The rejection would sting and shatter his heart in a million pieces but maybe that’s what he needs to get over you and move on. He was terrified. He didn’t want to lose your friendship, but he knew if he didn’t tell you now, he never would.

So he did something he never thought he would do.

“Y/n, wait!” He quickly spun around as the words left his lips without thinking. You stopped your tracks at the top of the steps by the door, your finger hovering over the buzzer to your date’s apartment.

You felt nervousness wash over you, “Yeah?”

Bob sighed and clenched his fists tightly, “Don’t go in there.” God, what was he doing? He regretted opening his mouth, but there was no turning back now. His eyes met yours, which were filled with confusion as your hand dropped down to your side.

“W-what??” You didn’t know what was going on or what Bob was doing, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved when he stopped you. “Why not?” You finally mustered up something to say to a very nervous Bob.

“Because…” He started, but didn’t know what to say or how to say what he feels. You stood there waiting for his answer as another boom of thunder filled the city and lightning illuminated the sky. “Umm… never mind. It doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything. Have a nice date.” He quickly blurted out before turning around and walking away from you, his fingers fumbling with the end of his sweater.

You felt your heart sink a little before running down the stairs and over to Bob before he got too far. “No, wait!” You caught up to him and grabbed his arm, softly tugging him back to stop him and turn him towards you. You felt a cold drop of rain hit your forehead as he spun around, making sure to not meet your gaze. “Bob…” You brought your hand up to his chin to make him look at you, his eyes filled with a sadness that made your heart melt. “Why don’t you want me to go in there?” You asked again, but oh-so softly this time.

He looked at you with flushed cheeks and worry filling up in his chest. This was it. The moment he didn’t want to come because he would tell you his feelings and you were going to reject him and tell him you didn’t feel the same. This was the moment he knew he was going to lose your friendship. “Because I hate seeing you go on dates with guys who don’t care about you like I do.”

Your heart skipped a beat, rapidly beating up your throat as Bob spoke to you. He couldn’t possibly be implying what you think he was implying, right?

“W-what do you mean?” You had to ask, had to know what exactly he meant by that. Your heart needed to know even though it was most likely going to crush it.

You felt another raindrop hit your face. And another. And another.

He looked down, “I mean, they don’t care about anything but the few facts they know about you. They don’t know you like I know you.” The rain began to pick up, raindrops falling on your still confused eyes.

“I still don’t understand-“

“Of course you don’t understand!” Bob’s voice boomed, startling you from his abrupt loudness. His eyes weren’t soft and sad anymore, now they were replaced with slight annoyance. “All you do is busy yourself by going out on dates with random men who don’t know you or give a shit about you.”

You gape at him, his words kind of stung. The rain picked up and started flowing down a bit faster as you stared at him in shock. “I do not.” What had gotten into him?

He pushed his fingers through his now-wet brown locks, “Yes you do! You always tell me about how you’re trying to find the right guy or someone to make you happy. How are you supposed to find someone like that on a dating app? Those guys don’t care about you, Y/n.” The rain was pouring now, soaking your clothes and your hair that you spent over an hour fixing. You could tell Bob was getting angry, and this was a side you never saw from him. What happened to your sweet Bob?

“And how are you so sure, Robert?” Your cadence was laced with venom now. You tried to be calm, but his anger and hurtful words made you upset and frustrated. You never used his full name, it was always Bob or doofus. He didn’t like hearing Robert come from your lips, it sounded foreign.

He scoffed and rubbed his eyes, the rain water beginning to burn. He felt his tense shoulders start to loosen slightly, even though the stress was still present in his body. This was going nowhere, and arguing was not what he intended on doing at the very moment. He had to tell you what he meant to tell you now before it was too late. “They don’t deserve your time, Y/n. And they especially don’t deserve you.”

You gave him an incredulous look, “What are you saying, Bob?” You were confused, angry, soaked, and quickly losing your patience. You looked at him expectantly, urging him to answer your question before you turned around and buzzed that damn buzzer to get you out of the rain.

He pushed his wet hair out of his face once again before beginning, “I can’t stand watching you go on dates with guys who don’t care about your wellbeing. With guys who don’t know you like I do and don’t know your likes and dislikes. With guys who really only talk about themselves and never ask about what you enjoy. It’s so hard listening to you after each date talking about how selfish these guys are and then watching you go out with a different one the next day!”

He ran his hand down his face, wiping the rain off just for it to pelt down on it once again. “When are you going to see that the right guy is standing right in front of you?!” His breathing was heavy and short as he stared into your eyes, feeling the weight begin to lift off his shoulders. Your eyes widened.

“Bob…” You began, not knowing what the hell words were or how to form a sentence in that moment.

He shook his head, water droplets hitting your face from his wet hair. “God, I’m so in love with you.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in. He can’t look at your face right now, it would take every bit of confidence out of him. “Ever since we met and I looked into your eyes, I knew it. Even though I never understood what love felt like before, I realized that it was what I felt about you. I’ve loved you from the start and will till the very end. You’re the only person to make me feel like this and always will be. Even if you don’t feel the same way, my heart will always be yours.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt water fall down your cheeks. You couldn’t tell if they were tears or if it was the pelting rain, but you didn’t care. Bob put his feelings into words so beautifully it was poetic, making the butterflies in your stomach go crazy as you stared at the man in front of you. The right guy. The one.

He spoke the same feelings you had been feeling for a very long time now, feelings you thought he didn’t reciprocate. But he did. All of your constant overthinking and worry washed away at his confession, bringing you a certain joy that you thought you would never feel. The joy of being loved. The joy of being loved by Bob.

“Please say something,” his voice was low and laced with uncertainty. His eyes were open now but glued to the ground, watching the rain drops hit the puddles underneath your feet.

Your hand finds his chin, lifting it up to meet your gaze. There were tears in his eyes, you think, you couldn’t quite tell by the rain but saw the look on his face. He looked so defeated and dejected when he looked at you, expecting his heart to be crushed even more than it already was.

You brought your other hand to his face to cradle it like it was the most fragile thing in the world, a soft smile creeping up at the corners of your soft lips. “I’m so in love with you too, Bob.”

His eyes widened as thunder thrummed through the air once again, but the two of you barely heard it. You were both focused on one thing and one thing only, and that was each other. Your surroundings, the rain, the thunder, and even your date who was probably wondering where you are were silently in the background. Nothing else mattered except the two of you in that moment.

“You… you do?” Bob’s voice was still uncertain as his eyes flickered between yours and your lips. He needed to make sure he heard that correctly before he lost control of his senses and kissed the hell out of you.

You nodded, feeling Bob’s hands moving to tuck your wet hair out of your face before cupping it tenderly. “I’ve loved you since the day I met you.” Your forehead met his, both wet and cold from the pouring-down rain.

His eyes met yours, “Can I kiss you?”

“Of course you can, doofus.”

That was all it took for Bob to place his lips on yours and kiss you with such delicacy it makes you dizzy. It was slow and passionate, your lips moving and molding together in a way they were destined. You could taste the raindrops and salty tears on his lips and were sure he could taste the same on yours. The rain in the background created a wall around you and the only two people within those walls were you and Bob. His lips were so soft against yours, and it just felt so right.

You finally broke away from the kiss after what felt like hours of bliss and passion to catch your breath, just staring deeply into one another with a fondness no one else could give. The sound of the rain was the only one you heard, but there was still a comfortable silence between you two.

After a minute, Bob smiled and leaned in to place a tender kiss on your nose, “I love you so much.” His face was only inches away from yours but yet he still wasn’t close enough.

“I love you so much more,” your lips turned upwards as heat flushed your cold rain-soaked cheeks.

He hummed and shook his head, “Not possible.” Before you could speak up again, he leaned into your ear and his lips ghosted over it. “And you should probably cancel your date.” You could feel him grinning into your ear as you let out a giggle. He pulled away when you grabbed your phone out of your purse, sending a quick text to the guy before deleting and blocking his number.

You weren’t going on any other dates with random guys anymore. The only man who will be taking you out on dates from now on is Bob. And you couldn’t be happier.

———

“Hey, Bob, have you seen my-“ Yelena barged into Bob’s room, not even thinking about the fact that you might be in there before bursting through his door. “-charger.”

Her eyes were wide when she saw the two of you lying down on his bed with you on top of him and a movie playing softly in the background. Your lips were moving together slowly and passionately as Bob’s hands made their way up your back and to your hair, your limbs tangled with each other.

The sound of Yelena’s voice caused you both to snap your heads up and lips away from each other. Both of your lips were kiss-swollen and your eyes were wide, the looks on your faces were filled with embarrassment as you got caught making out with your boyfriend. Does anyone knock these days??

Yelena shivered and gagged, “You know what, I’ll just use Ava’s.” She then turned on her heel and slammed the door shut behind her, wanting to burn the image she just saw out of her brain forever.

With the slam of Bob’s door, you turned your head back to him and let out a flustered giggle. He grinned and laughed softly along with you, bringing his hands back down to settle on your hips.

Bob brushed your hair behind your ear with one hand, the grin on his swollen lips growing even bigger and eyes beaming up at you. God, did he love you.

You sighed, a smile still evident on your face and cheeks flushed bright red as you gazed down at him. “Yelena is never going to let us live that down.”

Bob chuckled, “Nope.” His hands traveled their way back up to their spot in your hair before pulling your face closer to his. “But I don’t care. I just wanna kiss you again.” And then he did, your lips met his again and moved and molded together like a puzzle that was finally finished.

His lips on yours felt so right in every way possible, and you couldn’t ask for anything better in your life. Because your life was complete, he was your missing puzzle piece. He was the right guy all along. He was the one.

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