Looking For FIC Help! Trying To Find A Fic That’s A Jake Seresin X Reader(?) One ! My Friend Read It

Looking for FIC help! Trying to find a fic that’s a Jake Seresin x reader(?) one ! My friend read it and recommended it to me but they can’t find it anywhere so— 🧎🧎🧎

They said it was obvi a Jake x reader where the dagger squad made the reader feel a bit scared/insecure! And there’s a moment where they break down in the hospital cause Jake got in an accident ! Making the daggers feel bad!

Tags

jake seresin jake hangman seresin top gun hangman hangman x reader jake seresin x reader top gun: maverick x reader jake seresin fic jake seresin x reader angst

The ghost I left behind - V

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x reader

Summary: Y/N and Bob had a life before he disappear, full of love, hope, and a lot of chaos, but they managed each other, she was the only one who truly could make him avoid the void inside his mind. How could he turn his only light into a shadow in his mind ?

Word count: 11.4k

Y/N's pov

Y/N woke with a jolt.

The pavement beneath her was cold, even through her coat. For a moment, her vision spun—bright lights above, blurred figures running, shouting. Her lungs burned like she'd just surfaced from deep underwater, and her ears rang with the echo of something… distant. Something awful.

She sat up slowly, disoriented. This was New York. The same street she’d been on before everything turned. The clinic was gone from sight now, swallowed up in the chaos of the crowd. People were rising to their feet, groaning, dusting themselves off, confused like her. Some cried. Some screamed. Others simply wandered aimlessly, eyes blank.

Where was Bobby?

Her head turned frantically, searching for his face, scanning over strangers and shadows. “Bobby?” she croaked, but her voice was swallowed by the noise. She stood up too fast, staggered, and her hand flew to her stomach instinctively.

The baby.

Her heart thudded. She reached into her coat pocket with shaking hands—and her fingers brushed glossy paper. The sonogram. It was still there. She pulled it out and held it tightly in both hands like it was the only thing grounding her to the earth. The tiny smudge in the picture—the tiny life she was fighting for—was safe.

She let out a breath that was halfway to a sob. Then, as if sensing her distress, her baby kicked—just once, firm and clear—and her hand flew to the spot, cradling her stomach.

“I know, baby,” she whispered, voice cracked and full of ache. “I know. I’m here.”

But was he?

Where was Bob?

She spun around again, more desperately this time, her hair falling into her eyes. “BOBBY?” she yelled now, throat raw. “BUCKY? YELENA? ANYONE?”

No one answered.

No one familiar.

Just the blaring of distant sirens, the hum of helicopters somewhere overhead, the sound of feet on pavement and confusion bleeding through the city.

Her body moved on its own, staggering toward the sidewalk. Her legs felt like jelly. Everything felt heavy. The smell of smoke and dust lingered in the air, and the ground vibrated faintly under her feet, like the world was still shaking from whatever had happened.

She reached a low wall and sank down slowly, curling in on herself. The sonogram fluttered in her fingers like a fragile leaf. She ran her hands over her stomach again, more gently this time, as if to reassure herself for the hundredth time that her baby was still okay. The thought of losing him, especially after everything… It was too much.

Her hand slipped into her coat pocket again and pulled out her phone. Cracked, screen flickering with life. She stared at it, willing it to work. Willing someone—anyone—to call. But there was nothing. No messages. No Bob.

Was it even real?

Her mind flashed back—violent and disjointed.

Bob’s face twisted with pain, his tears, the blood on his knuckles as he beat the Void senseless. The sound of Yelena’s voice calling out. The feel of Bob’s hand in hers. His voice: "You are… everything." The sudden pull, the blinding light—and then waking up here.

Was it just another illusion?

Was he really there, or had her mind played the cruelest trick yet?

Her lips trembled, and she buried her face in her hands. She tried to stay strong—for the baby, for herself—but the silence was deafening. The uncertainty unbearable.

A whimper escaped her throat.

Her back pressed to the wall, her arms curled protectively around her belly, and she let the grief unravel. Grief for the confusion, the fear, the loss, the aching not knowing. Grief for Bobby—if he was even real—if she had ever really had him back.

The baby kicked again. She smiled through tears.

“I’m still here,” she whispered. "I’m still here.”

Her breathing slowed, just enough to hear the trembling silence in her chest.

Y/N wiped at her cheeks with the sleeves of her coat, rough fabric against soft skin, not that she noticed. Her eyes burned.

The people around her had mostly cleared out. Sirens were growing distant. Police were trying to direct people away from the chaos, medics calling out for injured civilians. But none of them were for her. No one looked for her. Not even the team.

Maybe they were never really there, a part of her whispered, cruel and quiet.

But then she remembered—Mr. Cooper.

He had called her, right before the world turned inside out. She had never called him back.

With a shaky breath, she reached into her pocket again, pulling out her battered phone. She turned the brightness down just enough to keep it from shorting out. A thin crack ran through the middle like a scar, but thankfully, the phone still worked.

She tapped on his name and lifted the phone to her ear.

It rang only once.

“Y/N?” His voice came in a rush—tight, worried, breathless. “God, kid—are you okay? I tried calling you back, but then the phones went dead, and.. I don't what happened—Jesus, are you hurt? Where are you?”

The tightness in her throat returned immediately.

She swallowed it down.

“Yeah,” she croaked, trying to make her voice sound normal. Normal. “I’m okay, I—I’m fine, Mr. Cooper. Just… caught up in all that mess. Something happened downtown. I think it affected a lot of people.”

There was a pause on the other end. She could almost picture him—standing in his kitchen, hand bracing the edge of the counter, brow furrowed behind his thick glasses. His worry was palpable, stretching across the line like a tether.

“You don’t sound fine,” he said softly. “Are you sure you’re alright? Where are you now? I can come get you.”

She almost said yes. Her body screamed for safety—for someone to take the weight from her, just for a moment. For someone to look at her and tell her she didn’t have to carry all of this alone.

But she couldn’t.

She needed to be alone. To think. To break. To cry.

“No,” she replied, quietly. “No, it’s okay. I’m walking back now. I just need to be home. I just… I need a little time, that’s all.”

He hesitated. She could hear it—his need to say more, to offer help, to insist.

But he knew her. He’d known her for long enough to hear what she wasn’t saying.

“Alright,” he said finally, with a gentleness only someone like him could offer. “But if you need me—even in the middle of the night—you call. I mean it.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Thanks,” she murmured. “I will.”

They hung up.

She stood there for a few more seconds, clutching her phone like it was an anchor.

Then, slowly, she turned and started walking.

The streets felt emptier than usual. The shadows felt taller. Her feet carried her forward on autopilot. She passed broken traffic lights, turned-over garbage bins, a restaurant window blown open from the pressure of whatever had hit the city. There was a scratch on her arm she hadn’t noticed until now, and her boots were scuffed from the fall.

Everything felt surreal. Like the city had been turned slightly inside out and then sewn back together in the wrong order.

Her apartment came into view.

As soon as she stepped inside and locked the door behind her, the silence swallowed her.

No more voices.

No Bobby.

No team.

No Void.

Just her.

She slipped her coat off and dropped it on the floor. Her body ached. Her back throbbed. Her eyes burned. She shuffled to the couch and sat down, curling her legs beneath her.

Her hand moved again to her stomach—her constant reminder that she wasn’t completely alone. He was still there. Still safe.

The sonogram sat on the coffee table where she placed it gently, her fingers lingering on the image.

She stared at it.

The tears came without warning.

She cried without sound at first, tears streaking down her cheeks and chin. Then came the hiccuped breaths, the full-body ache, the sobs she couldn’t swallow back. She buried her face in her hands and let it come. All of it. The fear. The loss. The impossible pain of seeing Bobby again—really seeing him—and not knowing what part of that had been real. Of hearing his voice. Of holding him. She felt like she had him again just to lost him minutes after. Just when things were moving for the better and her grief was getting easier, this thing appears, gives her her Bobby, made her relieve everything, and went away.

She cried for her younger self.

She cried for her baby.

And when she couldn’t cry anymore, she sat in silence, her palms resting on her belly.

“…What the hell happened?” she whispered into the dark.

There was no answer.

But her baby kicked again—soft this time, like a gentle reassurance.

And somehow, despite everything… it helped. Nothing was making sense. If was leaving her past, Bobby appeared as punishment, but how come those people that she never knew, or encountered before, made an appearence. Was it real ? Then where are they ?

Exhausted physically and emotionally, she falls asleep without noticing. No dreams, no faces, just an exhausting sleep in hopes of waking up better and half forgetting. Go on with the rest of her day, and restart her grief.

But a call came. Mr. Cooper was calling her. Which made her jump from her sleep, unaware that she had even fallen asleep. Scared of the sudden call, she picks up and answer as fast as her brain could process.

"Mr. Cooper, hi! what's...?"

"You turn the TV on, right now" He said in a raspy firm tone.

Confusing her even more. "What ? Mr.Cooper, why are you calling me to watch the news ? I'm resting, I will meet you later and tell what happened, everything fine plea..."

"I said, turn.on.the.TV.now Y/N.", as a dad scolding her, Y/N just does as he says, still not understand the urgency to watch whatever that she do later when she's fully rested.

Turning the TV, the news appeared, being splashed in every channel possible, doing a piece on what seemed to be a new team that were now the New Avengers.

"Oh...hell no, what the actual fuck."

Bob's pov

The press had a field day.

“Thunderbolts Save New York!” “Shadow Anomaly Contained by New Avengers!” “Sentry: Hero or Weapon?”

Everyone suddenly had opinions about them, but no one seemed to have answers. Inside the compound, though, it was just them—no press, no chaos, just post-mission exhaustion and a growing sense of what the hell just happened?

Alexei was already in celebration mode, sitting backward on a chair like a kid in detention. “They called us the New Avengers! I told you, didn’t I? All it took was a little global disaster, and boom—we’re legitimate!”

Yelena snorted. “You screamed ‘Thunderbolts assemble!’ like an idiot.”

“I wanted a moment, Yelena!”

Walker shook his head. “Next time, yell it before we get thrown through a building.”

Ava mumbled from the corner, rubbing her temple, “At least they spelled my name right on one headline. That’s a win.”

Bob was the only one still standing, leaning by the window, arms crossed but a weird energy in his posture. He had a faint smile, like he was too buzzed to come down from whatever adrenaline rush he’d been riding since they landed back in reality.

He turned toward them. “I mean, that wasn’t nothing, right? We did it. Whatever it was. I blacked out after that Void-whatever showed up and now I’m back in New York with a press badge taped to my ass.”

Yelena raised an eyebrow. “You don’t remember?”

Bob shrugged, almost chipper. “Bits and pieces. Some wild dream stuff. Did we fight something? Did I do anything embarrassing? Don’t say crying, I’m emotionally evolved.”

“Define evolved,” Ava said dryly.

Walker, who’d been quiet for a second too long, finally turned toward Bob and asked, “Hey. You… remember anything about Y/N?”

Bob blinked. “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” Walker said, more pointed now. “Your girlfriend.”

Bob gave a crooked smile. “You guys know about her now? Valentina told you, didn’t she? Let me guess—she used that to recruit me. ‘Tragic story, guy ditched his pregnant girlfriend, big ol’ redemption arc.’ Classic spy move.”

He laughed, but no one laughed with him.

He looked around. The mood had shifted. Everyone was staring—not accusatory, but... odd. Sympathetic. Guarded.

“What?”

Ava tilted her head. “Bob, do you really not remember anything? In the Void?”

“Just flashes. Feelings, mostly. Stuff that didn’t make sense. Shadows. Screaming. A... woman. But I figured it was all in my head.”

Yelena walked toward him, gently. “It wasn’t. She was real. We saw her.”

Bob’s laugh faltered. “No, I mean—she’s a memory. That’s how it works, right?”

Alexei shook his head slowly. “No, Bob. We met her.”

Walker leaned forward, eyes serious. “She was with us. We were in some kind of mind trap or construct, sure, but it wasn’t just you. She was there. Talking to you. Touching you. Holding you.”

Bob looked between them, heartbeat rising. “You guys are messing with me.”

“We’re not,” Yelena said. “You held her. Told her you were sorry. Told her you loved her.”

Bob’s face fell. “No, that… that’s not possible. I would’ve remembered.”

“You don’t remember her saying to you you’d finish the baby's crib?” Ava asked softly.

Bob sat down slowly, as if the weight in his chest had just become too much. “I… I thought that was a dream.”

Walker’s voice was quieter now. “She was real, Bob. And when we came back… she wasn’t with us.”

He stared at the floor.

The room was quiet again.

Bob looked up slowly, eyes wide but full of dread. “Where is she?”

Yelena swallowed hard. “We don’t know.”

Bob sat there, stunned. His brain was still trying to catch up, to rewind through fragmented shadows, memories half-formed, a scream, a soft laugh, her hands on his face. It hadn’t been just a dream. She was there.

“She’s probably in the city,” he said suddenly, voice dry, eyes distant. “She lived here. We—we lived here. Small apartment just above a laundromat off 36th, near the bridge. The kind of place you don’t show your parents but you make it work because it’s yours. She hated how the window leaked in the winter. Always shoved towels under it to keep the cold out.”

He chuckled for a second. It was hollow.

“She might be there. Or around. She never liked going too far out of the neighborhood.”

The others exchanged a look. Alexei leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on his knees, watching Bob like he was defusing a bomb with his words.

Bob’s shoulders began to rise and fall unevenly. The smile had drained, replaced by a creeping realization behind his eyes. His mouth opened like he might speak again, but nothing came out—just a short breath, almost like a hiccup from the back of his throat.

Then the panic hit.

His hands gripped his knees, hard.

“Oh God,” he whispered. “What the hell do I do?”

“Go to her,” Yelena said softly.

“No—no, you don’t understand,” he muttered, shaking his head, palms pressing into his temples. “I left. I left her—knowing she was pregnant. I walked away. I just left. And then I got grabbed by Valentina like some stupid lab rat for some twisted ‘fix-the-golden-boy’ science project, and I thought I was going to die there.”

He looked up, eyes glassy, chest heaving like the weight of everything he ran from had finally caught up with him.

“I never thought I’d make it out. I didn’t think I’d have to face any of this again. I told myself I was saving her from me. That if I just disappeared, maybe she’d have a better shot. Maybe she'd forget the mess I was and move on. And then… then I survived.”

He looked around the room at their faces. “And I don’t know what the hell to do with that.”

Ava spoke gently. “You go to her.”

Bob let out a tight, bitter laugh. “And say what? ‘Hey, sorry I vanished, missed half the pregnancy, ditched you in the worst moment of your life—mind if I come back and finish building the crib?’”

His voice cracked halfway through, and he rubbed a hand down his face, hard.

“She probably hates me. She should hate me.”

“You don’t know that,” Walker said, his tone oddly soft for once. “You don’t know anything until you see her again. But I’ll tell you what’s worse than facing her? Never trying.”

Bob swallowed thickly.

“She looked at you like you were still hers,” Yelena added. “In there, whatever the Void made, it was twisted, sure. But she still looked at you with love. With pain, yeah. But love, too.”

Bob went quiet. For a few seconds, no one said a word.

Then—he exhaled shakily and whispered something, like it had only just re-entered his mind.

“Guys…”

They looked over at him.

He blinked, stunned again by the weight of it.

“I’m going to be a dad.”

His voice cracked, and it wasn’t just shock this time—it was awe. Dread. Hope. Regret. All of it.

“I missed five months,” he said. “I missed appointments. Her cravings. Her first checkup. I wasn’t there when she probably cried herself to sleep because I most probably put her through hell. I missed everything.”

“But you’re here now,” Alexei said, gently but firm. “You still have time.”

Bob looked down at his hands, noticing for the first time how badly they trembled.

“I know I’m not the same person I was when I left. I’ve been clean since Malaysia. The withdrawal nearly killed me. I’ve been through hell trying to be better… but I never once thought about how I’d come back. What I’d say. What I’d do if I ever saw her again. And how will I even tell her that, how will that even sound ? Hi baby, I wasn't good so I left the country and found new friends, I'm so much better know, which would be impossible if I stayed here, by your side, taking care of you, in our home. Yeah, that sounds great. You know what that sounds like? I'll be blaming her for not being better!"

Walker crossed his arms. “We'll figure it out. Together. If she knows she knows that what you did was not the way, but was more desperation than being a deadbeat.”

Yelena nodded. “And he knows what that is like.”

Walker just looks at her, a shoked expression slap on his face. "What the hell did I do to you? Jesus."

“She might not want to see me,” Bob said, barely above a whisper.

“She might not,” Ava agreed. “But she deserves the choice. And you deserve to say it to her face.”

Bob finally stood, slowly, like the weight of his guilt was a physical thing slung across his shoulders.

“I need to find her,” he said quietly. “I need to see her. Even if it’s just to hear her say it’s too late.”

Y/N's pov

The scent of fries and charbroiled beef did nothing to ease the twist in Y/N’s stomach.

She sat at a booth by the window in a corner of the burger place, her cheek pressed against the cold faux-wood table. Outside, the neon lights of the city flickered with life, completely unaware that her world had been flipped upside down. Again.

Mr. Cooper sat across from her, silent, drumming his fingers lightly against his milkshake cup. Their number was still being called up at the counter—order 68—but neither of them moved. No appetite. Just tension and confusion and the low buzz of the news still replaying in her mind.

“The New Avengers—unofficially named, of course—have emerged after a battle outside Manhattan’s southern district. The team includes the U.S. Agent, Russian super-soldier, Red Guardian, Black Widow’s sister, and… a man we’re still learning about. A man who, eyewitnesses claim, flew and tore through solid steel. They’re calling him ‘The Sentry.’”

She flinched again at the title. It didn’t fit. Not with the man who used to sneak an extra shake into her takeout bags just to see her smile. The one who got nosebleeds too easily and talked in his sleep. The one who vanished five months ago and hadn’t left behind anything but a phantom of what used to be.

Mr. Cooper finally broke the silence with a gentle throat-clear and a hesitant voice.

“So… this is awkward,” he said, looking at her sideways. “You never mentioned him being a superhero. Or a super soldier.”

Y/N groaned, lifting her head off the table and glaring at him as if it were his fault.

“He’s not. I don’t even know what the hell is happening. We met because we worked together—he used to spin a sign to promote the restaurant's food.” Her voice cracked somewhere between disbelief and exhausted sarcasm. “Does that sound like a super soldier to you?”

Mr. Cooper leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Jezz! He spins a sign for a living and you let him date you and get you pregnant?” He gave her a crooked smile. “Kid, you’re a pretty lady. You kno—"

“Can you focus on the dead man I’ve been looking for four goddamn months who just reappeared out of nowhere as a freaking avenger?” she snapped, louder than she intended.

The people in the next booth looked over briefly.

Mr. Cooper coughed into his fist and looked away. “Yeah. Sorry. Right.”

Y/N folded her arms across her chest and leaned back into the booth, trying to breathe. Trying to think. But the noise in her head was deafening. Bobby. Bob. Alive. Right there on TV. Eyes glowing. Smiling like he belonged there. Like he’d always belonged there.

"He sure looks happy as hell." She said letting out a heavy breath.

And he never called. Not once. No text. No note. Nothing.

Her fingers curled around the sonogram still tucked inside her coat pocket.

“He just… left,” she murmured, eyes trained on the linoleum floor. “Didn’t say a word. Not one. And he was in New York this whole damn time?”

“I mean…” Mr. Cooper’s voice was cautious. “For what it’s worth, we don’t know that. There hasn’t been any official word on when he got back. Maybe he wasn’t in the States until now.”

“He had to see the posters,” she whispered, fury rising in her chest like a slow boil. “I plastered them everywhere. I went to every station, every hospital. He was all I thought about. And now he just shows up on the news with some dumb hero name, fighting like he’s Superman and pretending like he didn’t leave me behind?”

Her voice trembled by the end of it, rage and grief all tangled into one.

Mr. Cooper leaned forward, speaking softer now. “I know you’re hurting, kid. I know this feels like some cosmic slap to the face. But there has to be an explanation. People don’t come back from the dead just to pretend nothing happened.”

She looked at him, eyes glistening, but her jaw locked tight.

He added, “As far as we know, there’s no record of him even coming back from Malaysia. If that lady Valentina had anything to do with this, and he was part of one of her experiments, you know she was on trial for those sketchy projects.” He trailed off, grim. “They probably kept him buried in some black site until now, he had to gain some kind of power.”

Y/N didn’t say anything for a long time.

Her food number was called again. Still no movement.

“I just…” She exhaled, pressing a hand against her belly, where the baby gave a soft kick, as if responding to her heartache. “If he’s been here… If he knew... Why hasn’t he come back? Why isn’t he banging down my door? Why isn’t he groveling on his knees, begging me to forgive him for leaving me?”

Her throat clenched around the words. She hated how small they sounded. How hurt.

“Is he with someone else?” she asked suddenly, the words tumbling out like they had a mind of their own. “Did he just move on? Decide the whole father thing wasn’t for him, and now he’s flying around in spandex trying to save the world instead?”

Mr. Cooper reached out, placed a hand over hers gently. “He didn’t look like a man who moved on. Not to me.”

Y/N blinked down at the table. "How do you even know that? Let's recap, I tell I'm pregnant after a huge fight about his addiction, because I was scared of losing him, days later I wake up, he left without trace, I look after him, he's in Malaysia, now he's a super hero. Oh yeah! It doesn't sound likke he moved on and built a new life, without me."

Her heart ached. Not just because he was alive. But because now she had something even worse than grief to wrestle with.

"Mr. Cooper. I give up. I can't take anymore, I...when that thingy came I had this dream, nightmare, hallucination, whatever, he was there. I thought that it was real, those people were there, I'm having a hard time figuring out what's happening, but...if it was real than he saw me too, why isn't him here? He.moved.on." Tears blink in her eyes, she looks away.

"I can't take the stress anymore, I'm just getting myself together, and I just putting all this anxiety and stress on the baby, I can't keep going in a path without a destiny." She picks up a napkin that rested on the table to wipe her tears, and looks at Mr.Cooper. "There's always other people, other women, he's a hero, and he's going to be rich now, bet ther-"

“Y/N.” Mr. Cooper’s voice was sharp, firm, cutting her spiral like a blade.

She stopped, her eyes snapping up to meet his. He wasn’t angry, not really. But there was something frustrated, protective in the way his brows drew together.

“Why do you always go there?” he asked. “Why do you keep acting like him leaving, or cheating, is the only explanation?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“You’ve been so damn strong these past months,” he continued, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “I watched you tear up half the city looking for him. I watched you yell at cops who wouldn’t listen. You made those missing posters by hand. You begged strangers to keep an eye out. You didn’t let anyone talk shit about him—not even me. You told everyone who doubted him to go to hell, because you knew he wasn’t the kind of man who’d walk out. You believed in him.”

He paused, voice softening.

“So why is seeing him now—alive—turning into this total collapse?”

She shook her head, overwhelmed, trembling with exhaustion and rage and heartache.

“I don’t know,” she choked. “Because it’s easier to believe he left on purpose than to admit that maybe... maybe he’s been back and just didn’t want to come home.”

“No.” Mr. Cooper shook his head slowly. “You don’t believe that. You’re scared of that. There’s a difference.”

Y/N looked down at her stomach.

“I spent so long hoping. Waking up at night thinking maybe I heard the door. Every time the phone rang, I jumped like it was him. I let people call me delusional because I just knew he wouldn’t leave me like that. And now that he’s alive, I feel like... like I can’t breathe. He never made me feel like he didn't want me, or once made me doubt him.”

“Because hope is dangerous,” Cooper said gently. “But it’s still yours. And you don’t have to throw it away just to protect yourself. You don’t have to build a worst-case story in your head just so it hurts less if it’s true.”

She looked at him then, fully, eyes glassy and tired. “You really think he’s not out there forgetting me?”

“I think if Bob Reynolds is even half the man you made him out to be... then he’s out there panicking. Terrified. Not sure how to come back. Because maybe he thinks you moved on. Or that he hurt you too badly. Or that you’ll slam the door in his face.”

Silence stretched between them.

The burger order had been ready for fifteen minutes. No one cared.

Y/N leaned back slowly, wiped under her eyes with her sleeve. She exhaled shakily.

“I don’t want to be angry anymore,” she whispered.

“Then don’t be. Be ready.” Mr. Cooper smiled gently. “Because I don’t think this story’s over. Not even close.”

The footage of the Thunderbolts—no, the New Avengers—flashed across the screen again. Images of chaos, the sky cracking open, then the clean-up crews, and finally a group photo: grainy, chaotic, half-captured mid-motion—but there he was.

Bob.

Looking so different and yet unmistakably him. Taller somehow. Stronger. Almost glowing.

Y/N’s eyes were glued to the screen, her burger untouched.

“Do you really think that woman—Valentina, whatever—could have something to do with all this?” she asked suddenly, her voice low, cautious, like speaking the name might summon something.

Mr. Cooper blinked, caught a little off guard by the shift. “Valentina de Fontaine?”

She nodded. “They said she was behind the team, right? And now all this... stuff happens. And Bob’s with them. So I’ve been trying to piece it together, but it doesn’t make any sense.”

Mr. Cooper sighed, taking a bite of his fries before answering, reluctantly. “She’s in trial right now. Big federal investigation. No full details, but... I heard she’s being charged for working with the OXE Group.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat.

“What’s the OXE Group?” she asked slowly.

He didn’t look at her at first. Just watched the news crawl at the bottom of the screen as if he were still deciding whether to tell her the truth.

“They’re a private military research firm. The kind of people who used to do black site work. Off-the-record stuff. Real shady.”

“Okay...” Y/N pressed, her voice tightening. “But what does that mean? What is she actually in trial for?”

Mr. Cooper finally turned to look at her, his expression sobering. “Illegal human experimentation. Enhancement trials. Word is, they were trying to recreate the super soldier program without oversight.”

The booth felt colder all of a sudden. Y/N’s eyes widened, her breath catching.

“Human experiments?” she repeated. “You mean like...”

He nodded, grim. “Like testing on people without consent. Drug trials. Mutation injections. Splicing DNA with alien tech. You name it.”

She slumped back in her seat, her hand going to her stomach again like second nature, like she needed the grounding.

Her voice cracked. “What if... What if she did something to him?”

Mr. Cooper frowned. “Y/N...”

“No, I’m serious!” she shot back, panic bubbling up. “What if he didn’t just leave? What if he was taken? Or experimented on? What if he got—changed—and that’s why he didn’t come back? What if they hurt him and wiped his memory, or used him like a weapon?”

“Y/N, we don’t know any of that,” he said gently, but her mind was already spiraling.

“It would make sense!” she snapped. “I saw him. I saw him in that facility, and he didn’t look like himself. Not just stronger or taller or whatever. He looked wrong. Like he was fighting something inside of him. And what if it wasn’t just him fighting—what if it was something they put in him?”

Mr. Cooper rubbed his temple slowly. “It’s a stretch, but... honestly? With people like Valentina? I wouldn’t rule it out.”

Y/N covered her face with both hands, overwhelmed by the thought.

“He always hated being weak,” she whispered. “He never said it out loud, but I could see it in how hard he tried.”

“And now maybe someone used that, maybe someone other then you saw what he had to give.” Cooper added grimly.

She dropped her hands and looked up at the screen again, the soft glow of the TV painting her worried face. Bob’s image flickered again—his silhouette standing strong beside the others, like he belonged there. But there was something distant in his expression. Something hollow. Something that didn’t look like the man she fell in love with.

“I’m not even pissed anymore,” she whispered. “I’m scared. What if he doesn’t come back because... he can’t?”

Mr. Cooper reached across the table and placed his hand gently over hers. “Then maybe it’s time someone went and got him.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away.

But her eyes, still glassy from earlier tears, were now clear with something else.

Determination.

"You think I should go there ?"

Mr.Cooper just smiles softly. "Maybe. You already went everywhere for him. This looks like a last trip."

The Next day - Bob's pov

The watchowerbuzzed with movement and low chatter as the Thunderbolts prepared for something that felt more serious than any mission they’d been on: Bob’s return.

Alexei was in his element—straightening a collar, wiping nonexistent dust from a navy-blue suit jacket, inspecting the polish on Bob’s shoes like a proud older brother sending a kid off to prom.

“You see this? This is what redemption looks like,” Alexei said, stepping back to admire Bob. “This says: ‘I am responsible man who has fought gods and folded laundry.’”

Bob stood stiffly in front of the mirror, hands tugging at the uncomfortable sleeves. “It says I’m about to ask for a job at a bank.”

“You look good,” Ava said simply from across the room. “It’s clean. Grown. It says you took this seriously. That matters.”

“She liked me messy,” Bob muttered under his breath, glancing down at the crisp fabric, the sleek hair combed back. “She said I looked more like me that way.”

Yelena, seated on the couch, rolled her eyes. “That was before you got sucked into a lab, exploded in the sky, and became some walking nuclear sunrise. You’re not just the guy that was struggle to keep yourselve together anymore, Bob. You’ve changed.”

Bob frowned. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Walker stepped in then, arms crossed, voice blunt but not unkind. “Look. You go there looking like you haven’t slept since 2019, she’ll think you’re still spiraling. But you show up like this? It says you’ve been trying. You want her back, right? Then show her you didn’t just survive — you got your shit together.”

Bob sighed and looked at himself again. The suit was neat, dark, serious. The tie Alexei picked was a shade too bright, but he let it be. His hair, slicked back, made his features sharper, more intense — and somehow older.

“Do I really look like… me? Do you think she will like this?” he asked, quieter this time.

Ava shrugged. “You look like someone who fought to come back.”

“And is about to cry,” Yelena said, deadpan. “But that’s your brand.”

Alexei grinned, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Trust us, this is the version of you she’ll want to see. Not the one who left, the one who chose to come back.”

Bob didn’t say anything for a moment. He took one last look at himself and nodded—just slightly.

Alexei, walking beside Bob, leaned in and whispered, “If she cries, cry with her. If she yells, nod wisely. If she hugs you… propose.”

Bob laughed for the first time all day, nerves still twisting deep in his chest. “Noted.”

He didn’t feel ready—not even close.

Alexei was fussing over Bob’s lapels like a proud uncle before prom, squinting critically at the clean lines of the suit. “You look strong. You look professional.”

“Fashion is how we prepare for emotional battle,” Alexei declared, adjusting Bob’s cuffs. “You must dress like the man you want her to believe in. Smell good. Stand tall. Speak deeply.”

“Alexei, you sound like a shampoo commercial,” Ava said from her spot near the mission board, clearly unimpressed.

Yelena rolled her eyes. “He’s not seducing her. He’s trying to apologize. Just tell her the truth, idiot.”

“Tell her the truth?” Alexei scoffed. “Fine. Tell her: ‘Hello. I have become golden space god now. I will protect you and make you rich. Also, I will buy you several dogs. Jewels. Maybe matching capes.’ Boom. Proposal.”

“Yeah,” Yelena muttered, “you just described a sugar daddy.”

“Is that not good?” Alexei blinked.

“That’s not great,” Ava shot back.

Walker leaned forward, trying to restore order. “Can we all just stop arguing about sugar daddies for one second?”

But that second was long gone. Ava was now arguing with Alexei about power dynamics in relationships, Yelena was threatening to punch someone if they didn’t shut up, and Walker looked like he was about five seconds from walking out.

Amid the chaos, Bob slowly sat down on the edge of the chair by the wide Watchtower window. He didn’t say anything. Just stared out at the distant lights of the city. A city she might be somewhere in. Alone.

They kept bickering around him, their voices overlapping, but Bob wasn’t listening anymore.

Then, softly, without looking at them, he spoke.

“I’m really scared.”

Silence fell, thick and immediate.

The team turned to look at him. Even Alexei’s big grin faded a little.

Bob kept his eyes on the skyline, his voice low and honest.

“She’s been abandoned her whole life. By people who were supposed to stay. Family. Friends. Even strangers who promised better and never meant it. And now I just—” he swallowed hard—“I went and added myself to that list.”

He clasped his hands, fingers threading and unthreading like his nerves were on a loop. He finally looked at them, eyes wide with something between guilt and fear and rawness that none of them had ever seen from him.

“I don’t know what to say to her. I don’t know if she even wants to see me. But she deserves the truth. And the choice.”

Yelena blinked a few times, her voice quieter when she spoke. “Then that’s what you give her.”

Alexei stepped closer, this time without a joke. He reached out and straightened Bob’s jacket collar.

“You wear the suit,” he said, firm but kind. “Because you are not just scared man anymore. You are also someone who came back. Someone who shows up. And sometimes... that is everything.”

Bob looked down at his shoes. The suit didn’t feel like him—but maybe it didn’t have to. Maybe it wasn’t about who he used to be.

Maybe it was about who he wanted to become.

Just as the room began to settle—after the shouting, the sarcastic digs, and the tail end of Alexei offering to re-style Bob’s hair himself if it meant calming him down—the doors to the Watchtower meeting room hissed open.

Mel stepped inside. She had that look of someone about to drop a grenade in the middle of the room and then walk away.

“Hey, uh—sorry to break up whatever group therapy session this is,” she said, tapping her tablet nervously, “but you’ve got a situation downstairs.”

Everyone turned.

Bob stood near the window, still fidgeting with his collar, his mind halfway between meltdown and autopilot.

Mel glanced at her screen. “There’s a woman and a guy asking for you. She’s being very... insistent.”

Bob blinked. “For me?”

“Yeah,” Mel said, nodding. “She says her name is Y/N L/N.”

The name hit him like a punch to the ribs. He froze. The breath left his lungs in one swift exhale.

“She’s here?” he said, barely audible.

Mel gave a wide-eyed shrug. “And some guy with her—says his name is George Cooper.”

Bob’s brows furrowed. “Who?”

Walker squinted. “You don’t know him?”

Bob shook his head. “No. Never heard of him.”

“Probably someone helping her,” Ava muttered. “Friend? Neighbor?”

“Or he’s just muscle,” Alexei offered. “In case she decides to throw you out a window.”

Bob swallowed thickly.

“She’s here?” he repeated, almost like he didn’t believe it. “In this building?”

Mel nodded. “Refusing to leave. She said if you don’t come down, she’s coming up. I told her that wasn’t exactly allowed without clearance and she said—and I quote—‘He’ll want to see me. Tell him I’m here. He’ll come.’”

Silence dropped over the room.

Alexei stood, clapping once. “WELL! This is very romantic. She crossed enemy lines to see you.”

Yelena looked at Bob. “You gonna faint or do something useful?”

Bob’s heart was racing. He glanced at Mel again. “She’s okay? I mean... she looks okay?”

“She looks pissed,” Mel said, matter-of-fact. “But yeah. Alive. Loud. Standing on both feet.”

Walker leaned back in his chair. “So. What’s the move?”

Bob licked his lips, nervous. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

Ava gave a soft exhale. “Start with 'Hi, I’m sorry,' and work your way up.”

“Do not start with ‘I’m a superhero now,’” Yelena added, arms crossed. “She might hit you.”

Alexei looked far too excited. “Tell her you’re going to take care of her forever and buy her a houseboat.”

“Guys,” Bob muttered, pressing his fingers to his temple. “I don’t even know who that guy is. What if she moved on? What if he’s her—God, I don’t know—boyfriend?”

“Then she wouldn’t be here, asking for you by name,” Yelena said calmly.

He was shaking.

Not with fear exactly—but something deeper. The kind of anxiety you only feel when you know you're about to come face to face with the thing you both miss and broke.

Bob whispered, “I’m really scared.”

That was enough to quiet the room.

He looked down at his hands. “She deserves better. And now... I don’t know what she’s going to see when she looks at me.”

Walker leaned forward on the table, his voice low. “Give her the choice, Reynolds. That’s all you can do.”

Mel stood awkwardly in the doorway. “So... what do you want me to tell them?”

Bob took one breath. Then two. Then forced himself upright.

“Tell them to come up.”

Yelena gave a small smirk. “About damn time.”

Mel nodded, giving him a soft, understanding look. “Got it.”

And with that, she stepped out, letting the doors seal shut behind her.

Bob stared at the floor.

“She’s really here.”

“Yeah,” Ava said. “She is.”

He swallowed.

Bob immediately turned to the rest of the team, his chest rising and falling too fast, hands shaking.

“I can’t do this. I seriously cannot do this. She’s here. She saw me on TV, and now she’s here, and I have no idea what she’s going to say—what if she just wants to scream at me? What if she’s already moved on and she’s just here for closure or to give me back my things—oh God, what if she brought a box of my stuff? That’s what people do, right? Boxes?”

Alexei clapped him hard on the back, nearly sending Bob stumbling forward.

“Relax, golden boy,” he said with a grin. “At least she came when you look good. If this was five hours ago, you’d still have pizza sauce on your shirt and look like a wet rat. Now you look like a gentleman. Hair all slicked back. Like James Bond but sad.”

“Very sad,” Yelena added, dryly. “Like James Bond who’s been crying in a Denny’s parking lot.”

Walker grunted. “Real supportive, guys.”

Ava leaned forward, her tone softer. “Bob. You’re spiraling.”

“I should be spiraling,” Bob huffed. “She’s probably been through hell and I left her—what do I even say? ‘Hi, sorry I ghosted you and joined a black-ops team and maybe died a little bit in Malaysia, and now I have godlike powers but still can’t hold a normal conversation’?”

“Yeah,” Yelena said with a shrug. “That, but slower.”

Alexei was still grinning. “What if she’s just here to take you back? Huh? Ever thought of that?”

Bob blinked at him, confused.

“I mean,” Alexei continued, “she saw you on the news, looking heroic, cape blowing in the wind—metaphorically speaking—and she thought, ‘That’s my idiot.’ Maybe she’s just here because she wants you back.”

“Exactly,” Ava chimed in. “You don’t know what she’s thinking. You’re panicking over something that hasn’t happened yet.”

“She came, man,” Walker added. “She didn’t send a letter. She didn’t text. She showed up.”

Bob ran a shaky hand through his hair—well, tried to, forgetting it was slicked back with gel now and recoiling in horror. “God, it’s so crispy.”

“Don’t touch it!” Alexei scolded, slapping his hand away. “You ruin that hair, and all this is for nothing.”

Everyone turned as the elevator down the hall gave a soft ding.

Bob went pale.

“They’re coming up,” he whispered. “Oh God. They’re coming up.”

Yelena gave him a nudge. “You don’t have to be perfect. Just be honest. And breathe. In through the nose. Out through the dramatic monologue.”

He looked to them, chest rising and falling, eyes wide.

Then he nodded. Slowly.

“Okay,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Okay.”

And Bob—dressed like a gentleman, scared out of his mind—stood facing the door, waiting for her

The elevator let out a soft chime, and the doors slid open with a mechanical hum.

Y/N stood there like a storm held in a glass bottle. Hair a little windblown, eyes sharp and already glossed with too much unshed emotion. Her coat hung off one shoulder, and beside her stood Mr. Cooper, arms crossed, watching with the protective stiffness of a man about to throw someone through a wall if needed.

The moment her eyes locked on Bob, she froze. Just for a second. Because what she saw was so jarringly not what she expected.

He stood across the room in a suit. Hair combed back, posture stiff as if he were pretending to be someone else. A mock version of composure. And yet—beneath it, she could still see him. Still Bob. Still the same guy who used to burn toast and tell jokes that didn’t land, who once danced in the living room holding a broom like a microphone.

Her mouth fell open.

“Bobby…” she began, voice strained, “What the fuck?”

Bob flinched. She hadn’t even raised her voice, but it hit him like a slap. Still, without thinking, without breathing, he moved forward, arms open.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry, I know—I just need to—”

He embraced her.

Y/N’s breath hitched sharply against his chest. He was warm. Real. Solid. And for the briefest of seconds—less than a heartbeat—she didn’t push him away. Her hands even hovered, as if they didn’t know what to do.

He smelled the same. Felt the same. She hated that her body remembered.

Then she came to.

“No—no!” she gasped, shoving him back with both palms against his chest. “Don’t you dare. You don’t get to hug me like that, like nothing happened!”

Tears spilled from her eyes now, but her jaw clenched with fury. “Where the hell have you been?! What was this, Bobby? What was this?! You disappeared, and now you’re in a goddamn suit, on the news like everything’s fine? You left me! You left me!”

Bob stumbled back, hands raised, chest heaving. “I know. I know I did—please, I—I swear I’ll explain, just—can we… can we talk? Alone?”

He looked past her to Mr. Cooper, then the rest of the team hovering awkwardly in the background. They were trying not to look like they were watching, but they definitely were.

Yelena was half-tucked behind Ava, who was subtly gripping Alexei’s arm to stop him from chiming in. Even Walker looked frozen mid-step, unsure if he should intervene or back off.

Bob turned to them with a shaky exhale. “Can we have a minute? Please?”

Mr. Cooper looked to Y/N. “That what you want?”

Y/N glanced around the room, then back at Bob. She wiped the corner of her eye with the sleeve of her jacket.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Yeah… please.”

The tension in the air shifted as the others nodded and slowly made their exit. Alexei gave Bob a small, reassuring pat on the shoulder as he passed—though it was more like a seismic jolt.

“I’m watching you,” Yelena muttered under her breath as she followed the others out.

Walker pointed a finger at Bob.

The doors shut behind them.

Now it was just Bob and Y/N, the silence closing in like walls. The city glowed faintly through the tall windows. The room suddenly felt too big. Too quiet.

Bob took a tentative step toward her. “I—don’t know where to start.”

Y/N folded her arms, brows pulled tight. “Try the part where you vanished into thin air.”

His throat tightened. His hands trembled.

“Okay,” he whispered, eyes locked on her. “Okay.”

“I didn’t think I’d get to say any of this,” he started, his voice dry and cracking. “I didn’t plan on saying anything at all.”

He finally looked up at her, his eyes red-rimmed, breathing uneven. “When I left, I didn’t just leave because of the pregnancy, Y/N. I’d already… been thinking about leaving. About… disappearing. I’d been thinking about it long before I knew. That test—God, it broke me. Not because of the baby. Not because of you. Because I knew right then I wasn’t the person you needed me to be.”

He swallowed hard and stepped forward slowly, careful not to spook her.

“You know how bad it got. I—I thought I had it under control, the meth, the withdrawals, the spirals, all of it. But I didn’t. I relapsed again two days before you told me. I—I’d been hiding it. I was so ashamed. I couldn’t even look you in the eyes some nights. I’d lie awake next to you and think about how much I was failing. How I was just—burning your life down with mine.”

He rubbed his face roughly, eyes shining as his breathing caught. “And then the test. And you. You looked so happy. And I—I felt like I was standing in front of this life, this beautiful life you wanted, and I was the wreckage in the way. I thought… if I stayed, I’d keep failing. That I’d be angry all the time. That I’d scream, or break things, or—God—for the first time in my life, I was scared of myself.”

He looked at her now. Fully. Face open and wounded, stripped of anything but his truth.

“So I did what cowards do. I ran. And I didn’t just run—I collapsed. I went to Malaysia because it was dangerous. Because I thought I’d die out there. Because dying felt easier than telling you I was broken. I thought I was doing you a favor. That you'd be better off. That the baby would have a clean slate, and you’d hate me, sure—but you’d survive. You’d thrive without me.”

Silence.

A few seconds passed, and he saw it—her breathing uneven, her hands curled tight at her sides.

And then she broke.

“You know me, Bobby,” she cried, voice trembling but laced with fire. “You know me.”

He barely had time to brace himself before the words poured out of her in sobs and gasps and fists clenched in grief.

“I love you so much I could feel death creeping into my chest every night you didn’t come back. I stopped eating. I couldn’t sleep. I would scream into my pillow until I passed out. I waited for hours by the door every time it rained, thinking you’d be cold and coming home. I sat in hospitals and police stations—God—I put up flyers, Bobby. I looked in every building, every alley, every damn street like a maniac because I knew something had to be wrong!”

Her hands trembled as she wiped her face with her sleeve, but the tears kept coming. Her voice broke again, smaller now.

“All I ever wanted was for you to come home. To have you here. I—I would’ve moved with you. To anywhere. Anywhere. You could’ve said the word and we would’ve started over. Just me and you. I would’ve helped you through everything. I wanted to help. But you didn’t give me the chance. You didn’t even give me a choice.”

She was sobbing now, her chest heaving, and Bob could only stare at her, broken open.

“I want our kid to know you. To love you. I wanted him to have what I never had. You keep thinking you’re some monster—that you ruin everything, that nobody gives a shit. But you leaving took my whole life with you. You took my happiness and left me to hold the pieces!”

Bob stepped closer, slow and trembling. His voice came out hoarse.

“I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was saving you.”

She laughed bitterly through her tears, shaking her head. “Well, you didn’t save me. You wrecked me.”

Bob nodded, lips pressed together as tears welled in his eyes. He looked down at her—then unconsciously, his eyes dropped to her stomach. She was showing now. Just enough.

“I missed everything,” he whispered, his hand trembling like it wanted to reach out but didn’t dare.

Y/N nodded silently, wiping her cheek.

“You did,” she said.

“Bobby…” she exhaled slowly. “You’re on the damn news. The Avengers, the Watchtower, all of this? You’re dressed like a damn wedding crasher—how the hell are you a superhero now?”

Her voice cracked. Confusion, disbelief, anger still curling in her chest like smoke.

“You don’t have powers. I know you. You had bad knees and a caffeine addiction and you used to pull your back lifting grocery bags. What the hell happened to you? What—what was that thing in the sky that took over the city? I saw you in it. I thought I was losing my mind.”

Bob blinked, lips parted like he’d been caught off guard. He looked down at the floor, then back up at her with a deep, ashamed breath.

“I wasn’t supposed to make it,” he said softly. “When I left for Malaysia… it wasn’t just to run. I signed up for something. Something I knew was dangerous.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, a pang of dread in her gut.

“What kind of something?” she asked carefully.

Bob clenched his jaw. “Human experimentation.”

Her eyes widened, horror flashing across her face. He rushed to keep speaking before she could spiral.

“It was Valentina. She was… recruiting people. Not for the Avengers, not at first. For something else. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t want answers. I thought—if it worked, maybe I’d be someone. If it didn’t… I’d just disappear like I always meant to.”

Y/N shook her head, horrified. “Bob—Jesus Christ.”

He nodded, shame deepening his voice. “It worked. Somehow. I don’t know how to explain it. They gave me something. It rewired everything. My body, my mind. I’m not… me anymore. I’m something else now. I can fly. I can tear steel apart. I can hear a pin drop from across the city. I don’t get tired. I don’t bleed. But…”

His voice wavered. He looked up at her with eyes that were begging to be understood.

“There’s something inside me. Something that came with the powers. A shadow. A presence. They call it The Void.”

Y/N stiffened at the name. Her breath caught.

Bob swallowed hard, nodding slowly.

“It’s real. That… thing that covered New York? That was me. Or, part of me. I don’t remember all of it—I black out when he comes. But it’s like… he waits. Like he watches from behind my eyes, waiting for a moment to crawl out.”

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes again.

“I didn’t know what I’d done until I woke up in that lab. Until I saw what was left behind. It wasn’t supposed to happen. I didn’t even know I could do something like that. I—”

He broke off, breath shaky.

“I don’t want these powers. Not if they come with him. I’m scared, Y/N. Every second. Because if I lose focus for one moment, if I get too angry, too desperate, too… weak—he gets out again. And next time, he might not leave anything standing.”

Y/N’s face had softened now. Her arms weren’t crossed anymore. She was just… standing there. Listening. Absorbing it all.

Bob stepped forward, a hand to his chest like he was trying to ground himself.

“But if I have to… if I have to… I’ll use it. Because I’ve seen what he can do. And I’ve seen what I can do when I keep him under. I think I was meant to help. Meant to protect people. Even if I’m scared.”

He met her gaze again, with more resolve this time.

“I don’t want to run anymore. From you, from what I’ve done, from what I am. I just want to… figure out how to live with it. With him. With the powers. And I want to do it with you.”

Y/N stared at him in stunned silence for a moment.

Then she took a trembling step forward.

“Do you really want to be that guy?” she whispered. “Or are you still trying to disappear, just in a different uniform?”

Bob flinched like she’d slapped him—but he didn’t deny it.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m trying.”

Y/N stood in front of him, arms limp at her sides, staring down at the floor. The silence was no longer sharp—it was dull, thick, almost protective. She was processing. Still trying to stitch everything together, the pain and confusion and love all colliding at once inside her chest like a storm without direction.

Bobby shifted, watching her with quiet, careful eyes.

“…Are you able to forgive me?” he asked, his voice a near whisper, almost afraid the sound might shatter whatever moment this was.

She didn’t answer. Not yet.

“I mean… we don’t have to be anything. Not if you don’t want to. I don’t want to force you into something just because we—because this happened,” he continued, motioning vaguely to her belly, to the air between them, to everything. “But I want to be there. I want to be there for you. And for the baby.”

His voice cracked.

“And I want you. I love you. I never stopped. Not for a second. But… you went through hell. And I was the one who lit the match. I didn’t protect you. I hurt you.”

That last part hung in the air like a confession he was ashamed to even say out loud.

Y/N still didn’t say anything. Her eyes flicked upward for only a second before she turned her head to the side, blinking hard. Her heart was racing, her head was buzzing. All of it was too much. The powers. The Void. The abandonment. The hug. The apology. The love. The ache. She loved him. God, she loved him—but what if love wasn’t enough? What if it never had been?

And then… she felt it.

A soft, unmistakable push from within her. Tiny.

She looked back at Bobby, the emotion behind her eyes unreadable—but deep.

Without saying a word, she stepped forward and gently took his hand in hers.

Then, she guided it to her belly.

His fingers spread over the fabric of her shirt, and at first, he just looked at her, confused—until he felt it.

A kick. Strong. Rhythmic.

His eyes widened. A stunned breath fell out of him.

And then… his knees buckled, slowly, reverently, until he was crouched in front of her, both hands now resting on her belly, forehead pressing softly against it like he was praying. His eyes fluttered closed, and he tilted his head ever so slightly, as if listening with his whole soul.

And he heard it.

A heartbeat.

Steady. Fierce. Alive.

Bob’s breath hitched. His lips parted in disbelief, awe folding into tears.

“We made that,” he whispered.

Y/N’s hand lifted, slow and gentle, resting on top of his head—his hair stiff with gel, slicked back against the version of him someone else dressed up to be a man who looked like he had it all together. But beneath it… she missed the curls. The mess. Him.

She let her fingers slip through what little softness she could find, her thumb brushing the nape of his neck.

“We can take it slow,” she said, voice raw, almost hoarse from holding back too much for too long. “We can do it.”

His head tilted up to look at her, his eyes glassy, his whole world held between her hands and the heartbeat beneath them.

“I just need to… readjust,” she said, inhaling shakily. “I don’t know what to do just yet. But… I can do it.”

A small, sad smile tugged at her lips as her gaze met his.

“I want you.”

Bob blinked, breath caught in his throat.

She nodded gently, her hand still cradling the side of his head.

“He wants you, too.”

Bob closed his eyes again, pulling in a breath like he’d been underwater all this time and finally came up for air.

And for the first time in months, everything stopped hurting—just for a moment.

Bob stood slowly, eyes never leaving hers. He looked unsure, reverent almost, as if standing in front of something holy.

This time, when he moved to embrace her, it wasn’t frantic or desperate—it was gentle. Careful. A silent apology. A prayer wrapped in human warmth. His arms curled around her back as hers slid around his waist, and they just held each other for a moment, feeling every tremble and heartbeat, the months of pain melting into skin-on-skin comfort.

He pulled back just slightly, enough to see her face. His hands cradled her waist, thumbs brushing slow circles against her sides. His voice was low, a little hoarse.

“Can I… please kiss you?” he asked, breath shaky. “I really need it.”

Y/N looked up at him, eyes still glassy with leftover tears—but softer now. Open. She nodded, slow.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Me too.”

Their lips met in a kiss that wasn’t rushed or polished—it was real. It was raw—it all came crashing together in that one, perfect kiss.

And it felt like him. Like Bobby. Like home.

She tasted salt—his tears, or hers, she couldn’t tell. One of her hands moved to his jaw, fingers curling against the line of it, while the other gripped the back of his neck, pulling him closer, needing him. His arms wrapped tight around her, and he let out a low sound—half-laugh, half-sob—into her mouth as their kiss deepened.

They could almost feel the ghost of another version of them—laughing in the kitchen of their tiny old apartment, dancing in their socks, sneaking kisses between burnt grilled cheese and a mattress on the floor. That old life flickered like a film reel behind their eyes.

He kissed her like he was trying to memorize her again.

She kissed him like she’d never let him disappear again.

When they finally pulled back for air, they were both breathless, foreheads touching. Their hands lingered—on waists, on cheeks, on the edges of clothing. Like letting go might mean waking up.

Y/N looked at him through her lashes, still catching her breath. Her voice cracked with a laugh.

“…Is this how you dress now?”

Bob blinked, then glanced down at himself—the stiff suit, the buttoned collar, the slicked-back hair.

Y/N made a face. “I hate it. You look so… ew.”

He burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking. “What?!”

She nodded, pointing dramatically at his head. “That’s not my Bobby. That’s a… stockbroker.”

“A what?” he said, grinning.

“Messy Bobby. Large hoodie Bobby. Hair-like-you-just-woke-up Bobby. That guy?” She grinned through the teasing, stepping closer, fingers already mussing his gelled-back hair with playful aggression. “That guy was hot. This guy looks like he’s about to lecture me about my Roth IRA.”

Bob chuckled, letting her mess it all up, curls flopping forward again. “Okay, okay. I’ll ditch the suit. Alexei’s gonna cry, though. He made me wear it.”

“Why?” she asked, still smoothing his hair out to her liking.

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “We were… planning on coming to see you. The team thought I should look… presentable. Impressive.”

She raised a brow. “Well, you failed. Miserably.”

He laughed again, and for a moment, it was just joy. Simple, real joy.

Then his smile softened. “Still worth it, though. You’re here. You kissed me. Twice.”

She smirked, a glimmer of playfulness flashing through the exhaustion in her eyes.

“That was charity.”

“Oh, yeah?”

She grabbed the collar of his too-stiff suit jacket, pulled him forward, and kissed him again—slow and deliberate.

“Still charity,” she whispered against his lips.

And Bobby just laughed into the kiss, his arms tightening around her.

The elevator doors slid open again with a soft ding. Bob straightened, still holding Y/N’s hand, only to freeze when a man stepped into view behind her.

Middle-aged. Slightly rumpled jacket. The kind of no-nonsense posture that screamed authority with too much paperwork. Bob blinked. So did the rest of the team.

Alexei leaned in and stage-whispered, “Who’s the guy? Is that your dad? Did you bring your dad?”

Y/N shot him a look. “No.”

Bob tilted his head, confused. “Uh… sorry, who…?”

The man extended a casual, unimpressed nod toward Bob. “Name’s Cooper. George Cooper. I work at the precinct downtown.”

Bob blinked again. “Wait—like… a cop?”

Walker narrowed his eyes. “Why is a cop here?”

Cooper kept his arms crossed. “Because I’ve been the one picking up the pieces while your golden boy here ghosted the entire tri-state area.”

Yelena raised her eyebrows and turned to Bob with a snort. “Ooooh, I like him already.”

Bob looked at Y/N, still processing. “You brought a cop with you?”

“He’s not just a cop,” she replied, gently but firmly. “He’s my friend. The only one who gave a damn when you disappeared. When nobody took my reports seriously, when they called me crazy—he helped. Every step.”

Mr. Cooper glanced sideways at her, not showing much emotion, but his voice softened. “She didn’t have anyone else, man. I’m not here to cause problems. Just had to make sure she was okay. That you were actually here and not another hallucination.”

Bob rubbed the back of his neck, heart squeezing in his chest. “Right. Yeah. Okay… sorry, I just… wasn’t expecting…”

Alexei interrupted with a grin. “It is okay, Bobby. She brought backup. Like real soldier. I respect it.”

Yelena nodded. “Honestly? After everything, he should’ve come with more backup.”

Walker crossed his arms. “So what now, cop? You sticking around?”

Cooper held up his hands. “Nope. I’ve done my part. She wanted to talk, I made sure she got here safe. That’s all.”

Y/N looked over at him, smiling faintly. “Thanks, Mr.Cooper.”

He gave her a brief nod and headed for the elevator. “You know how to reach me, kid.”

As the doors closed behind him, Bob turned to Y/N again, still wrapping his head around it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t know you had to go through all that.”

Y/N met his eyes. “That’s because you weren’t there.”

Silence lingered for a beat—one heavy with mutual understanding and all the things they still had to say.

Alexei, ever the mood-breaker, clapped Bob on the back. “Well, at least she showed up while you still looked dashing. I told you—hair slicked back, suit crisp. You’re like billionaire crime-fighter now.”

Y/N squinted at Bob. “God, you still look ridiculous.”

Bob gave her a sheepish grin. “I know. I was trying to impress you.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “Like that would work on me.”

Tags

thunderbolts robert reynolds bob reynolds bob thunderbolts robert reynolds x reader

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starfulhabitz

1 year ago

Praying someone can help me find this cod Drabble fic thing jdjdjd

It was about Gaz going into like—a school to talk about stranger danger n’ the reader is the classroom teacher 😭❤️ it has been in my head for a hot minute whew

Tags

cod x reader kyle gaz garrick kyle gaz garrick x reader kyle garrick x reader task force 141 x reader

49 notes View Post

starfulhabitz

1 week ago

Light On

Simon Riley masterlist

Anthology complete - 2/2/24

Simon has a new neighbor. His new neighbor has a baby.

Simon Riley/female reader Single mom, neighbors fic. Fics are listed in chronological order

Simon discovers something unexpected Simon realizes where you live Simon gives you a hand Simon comes over for dinner Simon eavesdrops Simon spends time in the garden Johnny learns his LT's secret Simon helps you out last minute Simon gets a phone call Simon accompanies you to the park Simon steps in Simon answers the phone in the middle of the night Simon learns something about you You miss your neighbor Simon's choice has consequences Simon tries to make amends Simon has you over for dinner 🎄Simon helps you and Emmaline pick out a tree Simon shares his space Simon shares his bed Simon takes you on a proper date Simon thinks he could die here You tell Simon about your grief 🎄Simon takes his family to a holiday party 🎄Simon has himself a merry little christmas Simon discovers one of your fears Simon comes home from work Simon takes his girls to the aquarium

Tags

simon riley simon riley x reader

6K notes View Post

starfulhabitz

1 week ago

My Sun, My Star

A/N: I'm so weak for Winter soldier Bucky. I cant wait to write more of him, I love this sad guilt ridden man.

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky x Reader

Words: 6756

Warnings: Breaking and entering, Minor violence, Injury and Blood, Winter soldier Bucky, GN reader but also Pregnant reader, mild language, I'm not sure if this is fluff or angst or both??

Summary: You wait up late for your boyfriend Bucky to return from his mission, but it isn't Bucky who finds you.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Epilogue | Bucky Masterlist

Like what I do? Consider buying me a Coffee!

________________

Your eyes blinked slowly, heavier with each passing second, yet you still managed to open them once again. Glancing at the bright white numbers of the digital clock you watched it change to 1:46 AM, causing a groan to pull from your lips. Bucky was supposed to be back tonight (yesterday technically) from his latest mission, but he still had yet to show up at your shared flat.

You checked your phone again, the lack of notifications mocking your tired eyes. You let out one more sigh before you turned off the mindless babbling of the TV and stood up to get ready for bed. You were sure Bucky wouldn’t want you waiting up so late in your current condition anyway, he had been harping you about getting enough sleep and water and everything in between.

“I’m only four months pregnant, Bucky. I’m fully capable of staying up late” You had said to him.

“Five months, Doll, and it’s about your cortisol levels. It’s not good for you or the baby, and it could lead to them being underweight” he said, reciting exactly what the doctor had told him during your last checkup.

“Four and a half,” you argued as you stuck your tongue out at him, “and she was talking about getting chased by a bear kind of stress, not staying up to watch Bake Off.”

You snorted at the memory of just earlier that week, a small smile coming to your face as you went through your nightly routine. You continued to check your phone here and there as you went, “Did you get back safe? How’d your mission go?” you had texted two hours ago, yet it still remained unread and unanswered.

‘Maybe one more quick text wouldn’t hurt,’ you thought to yourself as you typed out the simple message and hit send.

“Stay safe, okay? I love you.”

You sighed as you set the phone down, “it’s okay, everything is okay,” you assured yourself as you pulled one of his large hoodies over your head, enjoying the way the hem brushed against your bare thighs and the sleeves threatened to swallow your hands. “He’s a former assassin and a super soldier! Nothing is going to happen that he can’t handle,” You stated firmly to your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes remained unsure despite your voice’s conviction, but you did your best to ignore it, focusing instead on the achingly tired look they held.

“Yes, I know. It’s finally time for bed, little one,” you mumbled sleepily as you felt your baby kick against the walls of your protruding belly, being quick to climb between the layers of blankets and lonesome sheets. “Fuck, that's cold…!” you swore quietly as your bare legs hit the icy fabric- having gone unwarmed by your personal space heater and super soldier.

Thankfully sleep came easily, the thought of waking up to Bucky’s sleepy, scruffy face only further urged your body to wind down so the moment would come sooner.

----

Bucky’s phone buzzed again in his bag, lighting up with your smiling face as your text displayed on the screen, but nobody reached down to check it, as everyone found themselves in a far more urgent situation.

“Keep him busy, Rodgers! I just need one more minute!” Tony yelled as he dug through the equipment in the quinjet, “For fuck’s sake, who organized this last?”

“What do you think I’m doing…!” The blond grunted with a justified hint of frustration,” Sam? Any help??” He shouted with a pointed look, telling more than asking as he struggled to restrain his thrashing friend. A swift metal fist flew toward his already battered face, barely giving him time to duck out of the way and attempt to restrain it again.

“Honestly? Seems like you’ve got this one,” Sam said, holding up his hands.

“SAM.”

“I’m coming..! God, can’t either of you old men take a joke?”

No one knew exactly what happened, Bucky had gone off on his own in the Hydra base they were exploring. It was supposed to have been recently abandoned, something about the agents leaving in an urgent rush that left files upon files sitting out in the open. It was supposed to be a simple mission; everyone goes off in teams, gathers what they can, and makes sure there are no surprises. But Bucky assured them that he would be fine to go on his own, he hadn’t had a sign of relapse in over a year, and he would only be picking up what looked important. A simple job.

He should’ve listened.

It was when he didn’t return to the jet with the rest of them that they started to get worried.

“So, where’s the Manchurian candidate?” Tony jested, looking at his watch. They were supposed to leave maybe 10 minutes ago, not terribly late by any means, but enough to start getting worried about Bucky’s quietness over the coms.

“Man, come on.. ” Sam sighed at Tony’s joke as he crossed his arms.

“Bucky?” Steve tried calling over the coms, ignoring both of his teammates, but the line remained all too quiet.

They found him finally in the basement level of the office building, old discarded computers lining the walls along with cabinets upon cabinets of old files and other equipment. He hadn’t even realized it was a trap until he stepped right into it, triggering a switch that had the computers and hidden speakers flashing images and sounds that assaulted his senses with fragmented memories long forgotten.

He should have listened.

Sam had found him first, on his knees in the middle of the floor with hands desperately covering his ears, trying to block out the incessant noise. Hauling his teammate to his feet, he rushed back to the jet, calling everyone off from their search before anything else could be sprung.

At first, they thought he might be fine- quiet, but fine. He had given them a small smile and a wave of his hand as everyone tried to check in with him, taking a seat as the jet took off to go home. It had all seemed relatively normal until they were halfway back and the unseen battle inside him must have taken a turn.

“Got it!” Tony yelled as he pulled out the dart gun, aiming quickly as he fired two shots into Bucky’s chest, readying a third as he waited and watched for the tranquilizers to finally take effect. It was slow as Bucky continued to struggle against the drug’s drain, his body and mind turning into slow-moving molasses. Low grunts emanated from his throat as the last of his strength ebbed away, leaving nothing but forced sleep in its wake.

“Was two really necessary?” Steve asked as his shoulders finally relaxed, the strain and worry now temporarily over.

Together they dragged the drugged-up assassin into the jet’s small quarantine area for the remainder of the trip, satisfied only when they heard the mechanical locks slide into place. It wasn’t much, and they knew that and if he really wanted to there would be no stopping him from getting out, but it was something- enough to give them a few seconds of preparation if nothing else.

“I’m not giving a super soldier only a single dose, you two metabolize things like this way too fast and I’m not taking any chances with the Tin man over there.”

Bucky- no, the Winter Soldier, seemed to still be out of it when they finally landed, sat up and leaning against the wall, head slumped forward just as they had left him.

“Alright, let's just get him into one of the holding rooms for the night. We’ll work on resetting him-” Tony lifted his hands as the two men glared in his direction, “- on ‘fixing him up’ as soon as he’s been secured.”

Sam shook his head as Tony corrected himself, taking notice of the lit-up phone in Bucky’s bag, buzzing with an only recently delivered message. Sam had quickly become one of your closest friends after you were introduced to the team. He was one of the few people Bucky trusted with his life and between his sarcastic jokes, his incredibly loyal nature, and his willingness to give Bucky shit whenever he deserved it, you knew very quickly how great a friend he would be.

But now his stomach twisted as he saw your name flash across the screen, the alert quickly minimizing itself as it joined the other messages you had sent that night. How was he gonna break this to you? The last thing you needed was a bunch of unnecessary stress on your shoulders, but it’s obvious you were beginning to worry over their late return. Sliding the phone back into its rightful place Sam told himself that he’d call you once they had things more figured out.

“Heart rate still seems to be resting. With any luck, he’ll remain knocked out until we get inside,” Tony relayed as he monitored the Soldier’s vitals and pressed the button to open the heavy quarantine doors.

The doors slid into their resting positions with a soft click.

As soon as that click landed on sensitive ears, vibrant blue eyes shot open. Sparing not even a second, the Winter Soldier surged forward from his seat, not nearly as far gone as he left them to believe. With the element of surprise, the Soldier easily knocked past his teammates, throwing his body weight against them and knocking Sam and Steve off balance, leaving him a good headstart as he dashed out the jet’s open door.

“Fuck, Bucky- Wait!,” Steve swore as he stumbled out behind him, having to use his super soldier speed just to keep pace. But between the settled darkness of the night, and the winding alleyways the brunette stuck to, Steve was left falling behind in no time. “Shit,” Steve swore as he slowed to a stop, looking around for any sign of his compromised friend.

However, the streets lay barren, the fluttering of moths in the streetlights the only sign of life on the entire block.

---

The heavy thud of his boots echoed against the alleyway’s pavement. He wasn't sure where exactly he was headed as his silhouette slunk between the warm light of the streetlamps, but part of him- a currently repressed part of him- knew that safety was bound to be just ahead.

His heart beat smoothly as he kept his pace, every other step falling in time as he rounded the corner. Blindly, he let himself be led by instinct and his feet maneuvered the city’s countless paths with a mind of their own. They slowed before a little apartment building and as those emotionless eyes looked up, he knew this was it.

The lateness of the hour had almost assured that no one was around as he slipped inside, footsteps padding up the stairs before stopping at the third floor. His heavy boots left nothing but wet prints in their wake as he wandered down the hall, impossibly silent, as even the notoriously creaky boards dared not announce his presence.

The closer he got, the more the back of his mind itched, as if something- someone- was begging him not to go any further, but he refused to listen; he knew this was where he was meant to be and where he would find what his body was so inexplicably drawn to.

With each step his head turned on a swivel, looking for the sense of safety and familiarity that the other half of him seemed to find here- and desperately wished he wouldn’t discover. Just as his foot was about to take another step he stopped. ‘No. Here.’ His gut told him, turning to the door.

His door.

Your door.

The former assassin bypassed the lock with ease, quickly slipping in before shutting the door behind him. A dim light illuminated the living room, the little lamp you left on for him casting its orange glow over his surroundings as he surveyed them.

A few mugs stand beside the sink, framed photos dot the wall and side tables, and a veritable nest of blankets lay across the couch. It was obvious someone had been here, and recently. A deep breath pulled into his lungs, causing his head to tilt to the side in contemplation as an unfamiliar scent hit his nose, something just as earthy as it was sweet and speckled with distant notes of… him?

“Hmmph”

His sensitive ears picked up the soft grunt from down the hall immediately. His shoulders squared and tensed as his body leaned into a defensive position. Cautious fingers pulled the knife from his boot, ready for whatever may come at him as he approached.

The sounds of soft breaths lead him to a door left ajar. Light just slipped past the curtains into the darkened room. Badum… Badum… Badum… a heartbeat pulsed in his ears as he took a step closer, leaving the door open and letting further light fall onto the source of the noise.

His wolfish gaze ran down your form as you lay there on your back, swallowed in the extra fabric of the old sweatshirt. Your hand rested casually over your stomach as your other one squished gently against your cheek. Your legs lay bare to the world after having kicked the overbearing sheets away, leaving just a glance of your underwear for him to take in.

“Mmph” You grunted again as you shifted, your face now turned to him as that earthy scent of yours gripped him like a vice and refused to let go.

Your sweet sleep became interrupted though- much to his dismay- as the phone on your nightstand began to light up and buzz incessantly. Still, as a statue he watched as you groaned, propping yourself up on your elbows as you went to check what your device could possibly want at this ungodly hour.

With one loose fist, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes away, blinking consciousness back into them until you saw Bucky’s illuminated figure before you, standing tall and quiet as he watched you intently.

“Bucky..?” You couldn’t hide the grin that spread across your face as you saw the familiar face of your lover lit up by the bright light of your phone screen. But the longer you looked the more you noticed.

His eyes were all wrong, his gaze was devoid, that’s the only way you could put it. Devoid of meaning and humanity, it seemed every gaze- every movement- was a means to an end. Empty… save for a flicker of fear; It was probably the only thing in those eyes right now that registered as human. The fear of someone who was lost, unknowing of their purpose, and confused as to why your gaze was made his cold heart falter.

His expression was flat and stoic, save for the knit of confusion that pulled his brows together. His stance was tense and prepared, the discrete knife still glittering in his hands as he took another step forward, his head slowly shaking in response to your question.

A gasp caught in your throat as you finally understood. Glancing at your phone you saw it was Sam who was calling, undoubtedly trying to tell you what you now already knew.

“Soldat…” You whispered, trying to hide the way his name sent shivers across your skin. Your phone went black then, as you didn’t pick up in time and you were left blind by the sudden darkness.

You and Bucky had talked about what to do if you found him like this, “You call Sam and Steve, Okay? You find a place to hide and you stay far away, no matter what you hear. There’s no reasoning with him,” He had told you.

So much for that

Your phone lit up again with Sam’s urgent call, its revealing light sending ice down your spine as you saw the man nearly standing over you now, just a hair’s breadth away.

Your hand rose slowly, shaking as you tested a reach for your phone, stopping dead in your tracks as he let out a disapproving grunt. Your head nodded slowly as you gulped, returning your hand to your stomach as you watched his gaze finally shift away.

With unbothered calmness, he looked toward your phone to see Sam’s face and name scrawled across your screen. Wordlessly he reached over and pressed the ‘decline call’ button, cutting the call short and leaving you two in perfect silence once more.

Panic began to rise in your throat as his gaze turned back toward you, darkened now only by the lack of light. With slow movements the Winter Soldier reached out, putting the knife away as he crouched down, as if trying to attract a skittish animal.

Your whole body tensed as his reach came closer, eyes screwing shut as you waited for the worst, “Please… Just don’t hurt her…” You whispered, fear and desperation rattling your voice, just as it did your anxiety-filled body.

But the pain never came. Instead, the cool touch of metal fingers ran down your cheek, barely denting your flesh as he relished in its softness. Your eyes peeked open cautiously, as his fingers moved along the slope of your jaw, tilting your head up as he came to your chin.

His eyes had changed, you noticed, instead of being a harsh blizzard, they had now settled into something more human, something warmer and… yearning?

“Soldat..?” You questioned as you watched his lips part, his senses focused only on the way your body reacted to his touch. You were sure he could hear the rapid pattering of your heart beneath your ribs, its pace only increasing as his fingers moved down your neck and to the exposed collarbone in your loose neckline.

“Красивый [Beautiful]...,” was all he could reply. It came out so soft you weren’t sure you heard it at first, it’s quiet reverence meant for your ears and your ears only. “Из-за тебя он чувствует себя здесь в безопасности...? Замки дерьмовые, видимость слишком высокая, но ты… [Are you why he feels safe here…? The locks are shit, the visibility is too high, but you…]” He continued, quiet and unbothered as if he assumed you couldn’t understand him.

“He’s been bugging me to get better locks all week…” you replied with a huff, quickly shutting up as his stare found your eyes again. Between Bucky’s ramblings in the night and Natasha’s tendency to only gossip in Russian, you had made an effort to learn it; You were still learning, and your pronunciation was shit, but your understanding had gotten far better.

“And you have a good ear…” He spoke in English this time, the vague hint of an amused smile pulling at the assassin’s stern lips. You couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever done that before. If that odd little smile had been seen by anyone else- anyone still living that is.

A breath of relief left you as your lips stretched to mimic his, the tension easing out of your body a little by little.

His metallic touch continued to linger, running down your covered chest until it settled on the waistband of your underwear, the cool metal trailing across your ticklish skin.

“Ah, wait, Sol-” You jumped at his touch, grabbing his wrist, despite knowing you wouldn’t have the strength to stop him if it’s what he wanted.

But instead of dipping his fingers lower, he simply tugged the oversized hoodie up, gathering it over your chest and exposing the firm baby bump concealed below. His head tilted to the side as he listened to the tiny heartbeat that fluttered in your belly as well as the thuds of its little movements against your skin. Slowly, still with that inkling of a smile, he turned to look at you, his hand hovering just above your vulnerable midsection as if awaiting permission.

Heat rose to your cheeks as you hesitated. On one hand, you felt a surprising amount of calm under the assassin's touch, his need for your approval only increasing your sense of security. But on the other hand, Bucky would never be able to live with himself if something happened to you or the baby, accident or not.

“Oh. I-”

CRASH.

You nearly jumped out of your skin as were cut short by the loud noise. The door to your apartment slammed open, surely breaking the hinges with the sheer force of it. Over a dozen heavy boots stormed into your apartment as the lights turned on, flooding your senses and forcing the Soldier’s attention elsewhere.

Your hand found his instantly, the heat of his calloused skin a comfort to you just the way Bucky’s was, especially as it squeezed around yours just the same. Sitting up properly now your sweatshirt swallowed your pregnant form once again and you peeked out to see just what was going on.

Through The Winter Soldier’s defensive stance in front of you, his knife is now drawn once more, you watched a small armed group, covered in black tactical gear raid your home, all guns pointing towards you- or more accurately- the former assassin attempting to shield you. You recognized the symbols on their vests as the team’s secondary security force, having even met a few of them over the years. But where was the rest of the team? Where was Sam, and Steve, and Tony?

“Step away from the civilian!” “Put your hands in the air!” “Sir, drop the knife!” They all shouted, overlapping with each other as each of them rushed out their demands.

“Don't shoot! It’s okay! It’s okay!” You rushed.

You tried to slip your hand from his, but he only held fast, “Soldat, please… It’s okay, just do what they say… They don’t want to hurt us. Please,” You urged, giving his hand a gentle squeeze,

His defenses faltered as he listened to you beg him to stand down. It wasn’t the usual begging he heard in his line of work, and coming from your lips had his walls cracking in an unprecedented way.

He shouldn’t have looked back at your eyes, wide and pleading, as they shook his walls further. Moving slowly he turned, kneeling before you despite the way the armed group yelled at him not to. You just held up your hand to them, pleading for them to be as gentle with him as he was with you.

“Мое солнце [My Sun]...” The warm flesh of his hand came up easily to cradle your face and a small smile pulled at him again as you leaned into his large palm. “Я только что нашел тебя. Я не потеряю тебя снова так быстро[I’ve only just found you. I will not lose you again so quickly]. ”

Your heart both swelled and pained for your Soldier. You looked into his eyes and saw a sense of certainty, a sense of knowing, you hadn’t seen from him earlier. “Oh… my soldier, my star,” Your fingers entwined with the hand holding your cheek, ”You can not lose me in any way that would last…” You whispered to him past the shouts, the commotion, and the tension, like you were the only two in the room.

“Sir, put the knife down!” A young squad member called again, his voice far more concerned than his superiors. You didn’t recognize him or his number and you figured he must’ve been new. His gun trembled in his hands as he shouted again, but as the Soldier failed to move and the kid’s finger unexpectedly twitched, there came a sudden-

BANG.

“Ah-!” Your face twisted with pain as you pulled away, “Fuck…!” Your hands instinctively grabbed your leg, clamping over the shooting pain in your calf that hit you- well- like a bullet.

You winced again as you pulled one of your hands back, the raw skin of your leg angrily letting you know that it did not like being brushed against. Warm, wet crimson covered your fingers as you looked down, becoming slightly dizzy at how much had already covered your palm. You were thankful it only seemed to be a graze, but the burn you already felt and knowing you were losing blood had your stomach lurching in uncomfortable ways.

Concern painted the assassin’s expression as you recoiled away from his doting touch, but as the unmistakable warm, metallic smell curled into his nose, his expression darkened dramatically. What was once kind, curious blue eyes now saw nothing but red as he caught sight of the wound slashing across your skin. His jaw set firmly, almost audibly grinding his teeth as he stood and turned to the young kid.

You looked back at the newcomer as you tried to breathe through the pain, the horrified look on his face telling you that he knew he was a dead man walking. His face went ghost white as the super soldier stalked toward him and through even worse trembling hands he raised his gun to shoot again.

“No…!”

A sickening thud rang out as the bullet hit the assassin square in his good shoulder, getting lodged in the muscly flesh. His shoulder jerked back at the force, but it wouldn’t stop his stride as he closed the gap. Another shot rang out, but with the solid vibranium arm now covering the barrel it did little to help this poor dumb kid. Snatching him by the neck, you watched as your assassin held him up until his feet kicked uselessly in the air.

Every gun immediately trained on him and with their proximity you knew they wouldn’t miss a fatal shot if it came to it.

“Stop! Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! Soldier, put him down!” You yelled as you maneuvered towards the edge of the bed. “Please, don't shoot, I can fix this!” you continued, trying to convince yourself as much as you convinced them. Familiar voices joined in on your plea as Sam and Steve finally entered the picture, urgently trying to talk down both the Winter Soldier and the secondary security team.

“Bucky, It’s okay... Just put the kid down, alright?” Steve tried to reason with him, “He’s new, he doesn’t know what he’s doing yet.” Steve tried his best to stay calm and patient, but the young man was beginning to change colors now. “Bucky, put him down before you do something you can’t come back from.” But Bucky’s ears were deaf to the outside pleas and the Winter soldier refused to listen.

“Ah..!” You whimpered as you tried to stand and approach the commotion. The pain in your leg reached new heights as you tried to put weight on it, causing you to tumble to your knees almost immediately. You clutched your belly, hoping the sudden jostle wouldn’t upset the baby too much as you tried to get up again.

“Hold on, Y/n. Stay down for a minute so we can wrap your leg…” Sam asked of you, moving over to help as soon as he saw the blood on your hands, “You’re losing plenty already.”

“No, I have to…. I can’t let him get hurt,” you argued, pushing away his helpful hands as you tried to stand again. You heard the crashing thud and rushed voices as you shakily got to your feet, leaning all your weight on your good leg. As you looked up again you came eye to eye with worry-filled icy blues.

“Sol-”

“Мое солнце [My Sun]...” He interrupted, his metal arm snaking around your waist to pull you in possessively and away from those who threatened your safety. On the other side of the room, the nervous kid now coughed and wheezed for breath, but you were just happy to see he was still alive.

“Please just listen to them. You’re already hurt, don’t get yourself killed…” you pleaded, your hand barely brushing over his bleeding wound before pulling his hand to your rounded belly. He tried to keep his expression steady, but you saw the way his eyes widened slightly as he looked down. “She needs someone looking out for her and I can’t do this on my own. I can’t keep away all the dangers of the world…” Your forehead rested against his as you tried to shift your weight, whining as you gave up and moved back. You couldn’t deny that this part of Bucky was her father too, even if he had been hidden away for ages, she was still his too. Whether Bucky would see it the same way you weren’t sure, but right now you were just concerned with making sure he got out of this alive.

“I can’t do this without you…”

The silence felt deafening as he considered. He never had to think about other people relying on him, not like this. His orders had always been to leave no threats, to finish his job and move on, no matter the cost to him. But the pain in his soft, fleshy shoulder was getting harder to ignore. The way his blood-soaked shirt clung to his arm now climbed to the forefront of his mind as he watched your big eyes stare back at him, desperate to understand. He was between a rock and a hard place.

“I’ll be right beside you the whole time..” You assured him, “We both will, but please let everyone get us some help.”

A gentle nudge pushed against his palm as his thoughts swirled around him, snapping him back to a single line of thought and he knew then. Defeat laid heavy on his shoulders as they slumped, accepting what must be done., “Мое солнц [My Sun] …”, He said, “Если вы так хотите, то я не буду жаловаться [If it is what you wish, then I will not complain].”

You couldn’t tell just how long you had been holding the breath you let out, your muscles relaxing as he finally held his hands up. The security squad began coming forward with an array of cuffs, but it was Sam who stopped them this time, glancing back at you for confirmation as he assured them that they could take it from here. Despite the arguing and the hesitation, they seemed to relent, shifting their focus now to their injured colleague.

Both Sam and Steve looked tired but relieved as they turned to the two of you, bloody and pained in your current state. Though they weren’t quite better; both of them looked like they had been the unfortunate punching bag of a certain super soldier mere hours before. Sam had bruises lining his arms from where he was surely blocking blow after blow and Steve smiled a bit with his busted lip, dried blood still stuck in the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s get you two to the tower…”

----

The journey to the tower was quiet, your soldier never letting you out of arms reach as you all boarded the armored truck, and made your way up the tower and to the lab.

Doctors tried to treat the both of you, but as soon as anyone dared to come close your assassin was right there to growl them back. They’d hardly be able to get past his possessive hands even if they could manage to get close, his touch keeping you pulled beside him at all times.

“Soldat…” you warned him, but he was too preoccupied gathering the medical bag they had been dropped. Coming over to you, there was no warning as he scooped you up from the ground and set you on a table to get to work.

“Oh-!” You exclaimed as you held onto his strong shoulder, quickly getting plopped back down on the corner of the cold metal table. A shiver ran down your skin as you shifted against the sleek table, watching as practiced hands scoured through the medical bag, producing everything he needed as he went about fixing up your leg wordlessly.

You were beyond thankful for the haze of the (baby-safe) painkillers as his fingers slid over the raw flesh. Despite the gentle numbing of the painkiller your fingers still lay tangled in his hair as he worked, only tugging in discomfort as the gauze wrapped tightly around your leg.

"Thank you..” You said when he finally finished, moving back to appreciate his work before giving it a satisfactory nod. His eyes had grown distant again, bits of confusion and uncertainty swirling in the storm of his eyes, and you reached out to stroke your thumb across his cheek. His stony cool expression remained as you touched him, his mouth staying a firm line as he instinctively leaned into your palm. You watched him for a moment before you continued, knowing that his thoughts must be far away.

“It's your turn now, big guy.... your shoulder is still seeping and you can’t keep losing blood like this," You urged him just as you had on the ride to the tower. He had refused to listen then, letting nothing else occupy his mind until he knew you were fully taken care of. But now as you sit safely before him, the only looming threats being Sam and Steve who seem to haunt the hallway outside, he finally relented.

You moved to stand, needing the angle to effectively dig out the bullet still lodged in his muscles, but he held you still with a single large hand on your shoulder, "Stay," he urged you with that low rumble of his. His eyes lingered on yours, ensuring you would do as he asked before he began to move again, gathering the supplies you would need.

He slid his bloody shirt off, revealing the weeping wound beneath and the scars of many wounds past. You expected him to stand in front of you, maybe sit so you could take care of him, but that didn’t seem to be the important thing right now.

He climbed up onto the cold table where you sat, curling onto his side with his back facing the door so his wounded shoulder sat closest to you. His head lay in your lap with a look of unmatched serenity as he pressed his forehead against your rounded belly. And there he rested, quiet and unmoving as he took his quiet moment. But he was far too exposed like this, far too trusting of “threats” lurking outside, and he almost reminded you of Bucky again. Was Bucky fighting to come back…? Was the Winter Soldier trusting you to watch his back? … or was he accepting of something you weren't sure he knew yet?

"Are you sure? It's going to be harder to take the bullet out this way. I don’t want to hurt you more than I have to," you tried to explain as you pulled out the forceps.

But he simply shook his head, "I know my time here is short, my Sun..." he said with an even tone, no semblance of fear to shake his voice, "Please let me enjoy it like this…."

Your voice caught in your throat as he answered, his blunt acceptance and knowing catching you off guard. You wished beyond anything that you could soothe him, to tell him no one was going to hurt him or take him away again. But you wouldn’t lie to him, so instead you said nothing, Your words rasping as you replied, "Of course, My star…."

The room was quiet as you worked, the only noise the sweet mumblings from your boyfriend's lips as he filled your baby’s ears with loving promises. His body let out a grunt and a soft squelch as you finally tugged the crushed bullet out. Pain creased his brow but his words never faltered and neither did the nudges or kicks he got in reply.

Carefully you cleaned up the blood, packing the wound as best you could, but you were sure Tony and his team would be redoing it soon nonetheless.

A sigh escaped him as he heard you putting away your tools, "My Sun?" he asked.

"Yes?"

“Is it time…?”

You cast your eyes downward, looking into those confused and swirling blues as they watched you with unbridled hope.

You nodded, wiping away the tears that welled in your eyes, “It’s time…” you whispered.

He nodded, thinking quietly as he looked down at your belly again, his hand smoothing over the skin he’s exposed, “Will I see you two again…?”

Your heart broke at the slight waver in his voice, “Oh, my star…” you said, resting your palm against his cheek, “It’s just like I said, ‘you can not lose me in any way that would last’. I’ll see you again and again, in this life and the next,” you assured as you leaned down to kiss his temple, a small smile forming at the corners of his lips. Tears blinked from your eyes as you continued, “I don’t know when, or for how long, but you will see us again. You can always come home to me, and I will always be there to welcome you.” You leaned, slow as not to scare him, and kissed him gently as he turned again to look at you.

It was awkward at first, but you didn’t mind, you couldn’t imagine the last time the Winter Soldier had felt such gentleness, let alone a kiss.

But the moment was ripped away as the door opened, Steve, Sam, and Tony all standing in the doorway. “We’re ready for him,” Tony said simply, “Let's get this started so my lab techs can go home….”

-----

You watched behind thick glass as Tony and his team of technicians attached various wires and machinery to Bucky’s body. Sam and Steve’s hands lie on your shoulders, trying to comfort you as you watch them finish tuning and placing everything. You watched as his blue eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling, as still as a statue as he let them do their work.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to watch this…” Steve tried to comfort you, but you only shook your head.

“No… I promised I’d see him off,” you replied, then thought with a pause, “Despite all the warnings Bucky gave me I’m happy I got to see him face to face…”

“Well, it helps that he wasn’t trying to beat the shit out of you…” Sam mumbled, getting an immediate nudge from you right in one of his bruises, “ Ow…okay, point taken.”

You smiled and shook your head. It was true though; despite the fear, blood, and death that dripped from his moniker, despite the pain you endured in his presence, you would do it all again. Bucky had hidden this part of him from you for so long, only ever showing you half of his face. And though you know he wouldn’t like it, you’re happy to finally see him in full light- to know and love him completely as he’s meant to be.

Tony says something that’s hard to make out through the glass, but you see him give a thumbs up to you all so he must have been ready. He moved to the switch, hesitating for a moment to let you say a quick goodbye.

Your Soldier’s eyes found yours right away, but there was no trace of sorrow for you to see, no discomfort or fear. In fact, he seemed almost excited; excited and hopeful that when he saw you next he’d have a bundle of joy to look forward to as well.

“Мое солнце [My Sun]...” you watched him say beyond the glass.

“I’ll see you again, My stars. I’m sure of it…” You replied with a soft smile.

He had just enough time to smile softly back at you, an image now pleasantly etched in your brain before Tony flipped the switch and the reset procedure began.

You covered your eyes quickly as Bucky’s body began to convulse, his strained grunts and shouts breaching containment despite the way he tried to hold it all back. The sounds of pain continued for minutes, but it felt far longer. Though, it wasn’t until it got quiet that you began to worry.

“Is it done? Is it over...?” You asked the men on either side of you, afraid to peek past your hands for fear of the worst.

“Doll…?” you heard the familiar voice call, gritty and rough from its recent use but still carrying that same soft tone he used with you.

Your heart swelled, “Bucky...?”

_____________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @simpxinnie (sorry I forgot to tag!)

It's been a while since I've written for our favorite sad man, so if I've missed you/you want to be added to the taglist, DM me to let me know!

Tags

bucky barnes x reader bucky x reader bucky bucky x you james bucky buchanan barnes bucky fanfic bucky barnes x you bucky barnes imagine bucky x y/n bucky imagine

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starfulhabitz

1 month ago

Personal Space

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x reader

Summary: you love your personal space. Unfortunately, Bradley also loves your personal space.

Pt. 2

You never understood why Bradley stuck around. Since the academy you’d preferred to stick to yourself; get your head down and get the job done. Especially with a surname like Mitchell. You didn’t want your father and grandfather’s reputation to negatively proceed you, and by the time people had put two and two together as to whom loins you came from: you’d made your own reputation so Maverick never made much of a difference to it.

But still, having dinner in the mess you’d sat down, when someone came and thudded down next to you and began eating themselves. “I’m Bradley” he said when you finally looked up at him. You raised a brow “Bradshaw?” You ask and he nods: you recognise him from the photos your dad pinned up in your two’s hanger. You hum “and you are?” He asks “not important.” You reply, deciding you’d lost your appetite and stood to clear your plate “good talk!” Bradley said, but you were already walking away.

He’d next encountered you when you were running around the academy, early morning; before any naval training would take place. He hummed and decided it was perfectly acceptable to interrupt your jaunt with his presence. “Hey! Up so early?” He asks as he tries to match your pace from a standstill “could ask you the same.” You reply bluntly “well I wanted to get a run in before-” “well there’s your answer.” You reply, cutting him off. “You run really quick.” He says as you try to keep your pace increasing to shake him off “goodbye, Bradshaw.” You say, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes and taking off at a pace he couldn’t sustain. He just stops and shakes his head smiling, you were funny.

Eventually, you’d both gotten up in the air and were quick to earn your callsigns “Rooster” and “Hen”. Bradley earned his because he was up before the chickens, you’d earned yours because the chicken kept fucking following you around like you were his mother. You were sat on the aircraft carrier, your trainee group learning how to land on a ship deck and you’d finally gotten a moment of peace that evening. You sat on the edge of the deck, feet dangling over the edge as you watched the sunset, not moving when you hear someone slip into the space between the barriers beside you.

“Oh look my chick is back.” You mumble sarcastically and Bradley laughs loudly at you. “You love me really” he says, looking at you as if he wanted to you agree with him “you seem to keep telling yourself that, don’t you?” You hum, turning to watch the sea lap against the grey metal. You can feel him fidgeting beside you, as if antsy to say something. “What?” You ask, finally turning to look at him. “What?” He repeats, looking at you with raised brows “you want to ask me something. You’re fidgeting.” You point out “so ask me or fuck off” you say, turning away again. “Your last name is Mitchell” he says and you roll your eyes “you can read and hear. Two things I’ve learnt today.” You huff, again, with sarcasm. “Are you related to Pete Mitchell?” He asks, looking at you and nearly holding his breath “you finally put two and two together?” You ask and he lets out the breath.

“Yeah, he’s my dad.” You say after a while “I was a whoopsie baby my mother didn’t want anything to do with” you tell him. “He used to fly with my dad.” Bradley almost whispers, voice just a few octaves above. “I know” you nod “he’s practically wallpapered all over our hanger.” You say “so are you” you eye him. “He pulled my papers” he says, again after a few moments of silence “I know” you say “do you know why?” He asks “yes.” You reply, and he could tell you weren’t going to elaborate. “Y’know I’m not a fan of your dad, but I really like you.” He says and you just look at him with a blank face. “Yup” you hum to yourself and he raises a brow “just as Mother Goose was described” you say, and Bradley’s face immediately lights up with a huge grin, stretching and arm around you and pulling you into his side.

“Get off me.” “Yup, yep, sorry.”

For your first deployment, the academy set it up that you’d at least be with one person from your training squadron, and today the list of names were coming out; they were scribbled on the back of a napkin and pinned to a notice board.

“1. Haywood & Solomons, 2. Hughes & Shelley & Omaha, 3. Cooper & Parker & Cromwell & Smith, 4. Bradshaw,” you crossed your fingers as someone read out the names, then yours was read alongside Bradley’s “oh for god’s sake” you grumble, turning to see Bradley practically jumping for joy. “This is great! Me and you, Hen!” Rooster cheers and you just stare at him “should’ve called you leech cause you’re acting like one. Calm down.” You instruct and he tries to chill out, but the cheeky smile on his face was indiminishagble.

He only became more unbearable then, with you every working hour, your wingman on the missions you’d fly, inseparable despite your complaints. “Where’s your boyfriend?” Hawk asked you, as he came to sit with you for lunch. You shush him loudly. “Woah woah I only asked where he was.” “Speak his name and he shows up. I’m trying to hide.” you say in a hushed voice “plus he isn’t my boyfriend” “sure” he scoffs but the daggers being shot into his head silenced him easily.

“Hey Hen! Hawk” Bradley greets as he sits down. You grunt and point an accusatory finger at Hawk “this is your fault, jackass” you say and he laughs at you, him and Bradley engage in conversation as you just eat, having learnt the skill of drowning him out. “What about you, Hen?” Hawk asked, drawing your attention away from your plate and up to the two men alongside you, you raise an eyebrow - letting them know you were insinuating that you weren’t listening to their conversation.

“Do you want a family?” He ask and you just nod “really?” Hawk asks “that’s cute, didn’t take you for a family gal” he jokes and you harshly kick his leg under the table “kids and everything?” He asks after the pain subsides. “Yup.” You say and Bradley hums “I didn’t know that” he says and you just look at him “you never asked.” You reply simply, and that was true: he hadn’t. He was quite prepared to spend the rest of existence chasing after you, whether that meant giving you your first kiss on your deathbeds.

The two of you even went to Top Gun together, training to be the finest naval aviators of them all. And boy, you two fought to be the best; tongue and teeth, blood sweat and tears, everything. The decision came down to one final dogfight. “May the best aviator win” Rooster jokes, sticking out a hand to you. You eye it and internally question if you were insane, before leaning up to peck his cheek. “Prepare to loose, chicken.” You say, leaving him frozen in his place while you head to your plane. That day, Bradley was seriously off his A-game, and you came out on top.

A Mitchell finally Top Gun.

“Congratulations!” Bradley says excitedly on graduation day when you victoriously lifted the trophy above your head. You turned to him and he leant down slightly - you weren’t stupid, you knew what he was intending to do. “Thank you, Brad.” You say, turning to walk over to where your father was stood - knowing that was probably the only time Bradley wouldn’t follow you. That was the first time you’d ever called him anything short of Bradley Bradshaw.

“I’m so proud of you honey” your dad says, hugging you tightly and you embrace him back, smiling widely “thank you, dad” you respond and he looks behind you where Bradley was stood a while back, watching the ordeal. “Is that-” “yes” you tell him and your dad just looks at you “I wouldn’t get all teary he follows me like a lost puppy” you grumble but he just grins “he’s a good kid, hon.” He says and you shake your head “he’s definitely something”

“So how does their relationship work?” Bob asks Hangman, watching Bradley talk your ear off and you just staring ahead into space, blankly. “You see Bobby my boy,” Jake begins “Hen loves her personal space” Bob nods “Rooster also loves Hen’s personal space.” Bob nods again, now understanding. “Haven’t they done everything together though?” He asks “I think it’s more the fact that Hen does something and Rooster just kinda goes with it” Phoenix said and Bob hums, as Bradley continues to converse one-sidedly with you.

“He means well” you hear from beside you as you stare out from the hanger, turning to see your honorary uncle Tom walking towards you, you run towards him as he embraces you tightly “hey Ice” you smile, sweetly. “Hey sweetheart” he croaks. “I mean what I said.” He states and you raise a brow “he means well” he nods towards the man doing his required push ups on the ground with Hondo. “I know, Ice.” You tell him. “No, I don’t think you do” he hums and you raise your eyebrows at him. “The kids in love with you. You’ve either got to let him in or tell him to get out.” He says, “you’re living together for goodness sake”. “It was cheaper” you argue “we both know the accommodation is subsidised.” He states, matter-of-factly, patting your shoulder as he turns to go talk to your dad when he walks into the room.

It was true, you and Bradley were sharing accommodation. “Hey Hen, they’ve offered us shared accommodation back in Miramar” Bradley says, coming over with a pamphlet. “Why?” You ask, taking it out of his hands. ‘Married couple accommodation’ it states and you raise your brows “you getting ahead of yourself, Bradshaw?” You ask and he shakes his head “the guy assumed our callsigns were cause we’re a couple” he tells you and you just hum. “Well I’d rather stay there than in an apartment.” You say simply, giving him back the leaflet and refocusing on the plane you were working on repairing. “Seriously?” He asks, voice overly hopeful. You look at him and shrug “just go get the damn house, Bradshaw. Before I change my mind!” You say and he grins, turning and breaking out into almost a jog to head to confirm your living situation.

You take a moment of hesitation, before loudly groaning and heading out onto the tarmac, getting down and doing push ups alongside Rooster. He turns his head and looks at you and you just raise your brows at him. “Hey honey” he grins “hello Bradley” he nudges your hip with his own. “I’ll drive us home.” You tell him, and he raises his eyebrows “Home?” He asks and you huff “okay, Bradley I will drive the two of us back to our shared accommodation that we accidentally got given.” You say and he laughs loudly “home sounded better.”

Then after the mission, the whole Dagger squad got permanently stationed in San Diego, other than deployment, so they urged the new additions to the base to buy their own properties closer to base rather than on it. You and Bradley were sat in the Hard Deck, a long time before it was open, the rest of the Daggers spending time on the beach while the two of you were scouring Bradley’s laptop for a property. Well, Bradley was.

How about this one? He turns his screen to you. You shake your head “I want grass in the garden. I want to plant flowers” you say as you point at the paved back of the house, explaining that it’s a waste of money to have it ripped out. Bradley nods “Mkay, garden” he says, moving back to look again.

“How about this one? Beach front, close to the running track for you. Only a walk from the Hard Deck. White picket fence, really” he hums, turning the laptop again “garden?” You ask and he nods “garden.” He nods with a grin. “Shall we go look?” You ask and he raises a brow at you. “You said it’s a walk from the hard deck. Let’s go.” You say, putting the address into your phone and immediately recognising the street name, Bradley quickly falling into step with you as you walk towards the property.

You look at it and place your hands on your hips. Bradley was right. Pretty damn perfect. “Can I help you?” A lady asks, walking outside of the house, clipboard in hand. “Oh no, we’d just seen this property online and wanted to take a look.” Bradley tells her. “Well I’ve had a no-show on a viewing. How’d you like to take a look?” She suggests, motioning to the open door. “Okay” you nod, following her into the house.

“Obviously the kitchen, living room, even a deck out back with a huge garden and high fences” she says nodding out the window and you hum. “Out the side there’s an entrance straight to the beach” she motions, then starts heading up the stairs “three bedrooms, attic space, bathroom” she says “I’m guessing it’s just you two at the moment?” She asks “oh we’re not-” Bradley begins “yes, just us.” You confirm, shutting him up. “Okay, so there’s a large room for your bed and then if any new additions are to join, you have the space for them” she smiles and leads you back out front.

“It’s not cheap, it’s California. So I understand if you’re not prepared to pay that much money, do you mind me asking what you do?” She asks “we’re naval aviators.” Bradley says “stationed here?” She asks and you both nod “ah! I get why you’re looking for a property here!” She says and Bradley looks at you. “I really like it, Roo.” You say, and Bradley has to stop his jaw hitting the floor at your nickname. “It’s your call, honey” he says and you look at the lady and smile as she offers her hand “we’ll take it.”

“How shall we split the payment?” You ask Bradley as you walk back to the Hard Deck after organising a meeting with the realtor to actually finalise all the kinks and bumps. “I don’t mind doing the down payment then we’ll take it in turn paying the loan” he suggests “we can get a joint bank account and do it that way” you say and he agrees as you settle back into your seats at the Hard Deck. “Where’ve you two been?” Hangman asks “we bought a house.”

One evening, after you were all moved in and were hanging out at the Hard Deck after a long day or routine flying, you were sat outside with Rooster; watching the sunset. “When are we getting married then?” You ask and he spits out his beer “what?” He asks, eyes wide and getting progressively more giddy. “Well we live together, we have a joint bank account, and Jake keeps telling me we’re practically married. So when are we getting married?” You ask as he hugs you tightly “whenever you want, baby” he says, kissing the top of your head and pulling a ring out of his pocket to get on his knee. “Will you marry me?” He asks and you raise a brow “didn’t I just say that?” You ask bluntly “just say yes, please” he begs and you nod “yes. Yes I will marry you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You confirm as he kisses your lips gently.

“Okay get off of me now.”

Pt. 2

Tags

Top gun xreader bradley bradshaw x reader rooster bradshaw fic

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starfulhabitz

2 months ago

Robert "Bob" Floyd Master List

₊˚⊹ Robert "Bob" Floyd ₊˚⊹

˖⁺‧₊ Key₊‧⁺˖

♡ xFem!Reader

☁︎ xDisabled!Reader

ꨄ︎ Soulmate AU

One Shots & Two Shots

Joy in Shattered Glass ~ Written for @/sailor-aviator's Christmas writing challenge!

(Coming Soon!)

Requests Open!

Once an Asshole, Always an Asshole ~ A second chance romance! Reader's Best friend! Natasha Trace and Asshole! Bob Floyd (In Progress) ♡ ( x Reader )

Series

Sneak Peek

Prologue

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen (Coming Soon)

Part Fifteen (Coming Soon)

Fated to Run - Fated to Fly ♡ꨄ︎ (COMPLETE. WC 24,700+) ~ A four part soulmate AU where the words "Oh, it's just Bob" are scrawled onto the readers skin, but it's not Bob who says them, but the first person the reader meets who talks about Bob! A little twist on the soulmate thing!

1 2 3 4

Tags

robert floyd bob floyd robert bob floyd bob floyd x reader robert floyd x reader bob floyd x y/n bob floyd x you robert floyd fic robert floyd imagine robert floyd x you

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