i am 21- mdni! 18!+blank/nameless/ageless blogs get blocked! fanfiction writer mental health blogger i have a lot of opinions if you disagree, please be nice abt it or i wont reply 🫶 #welcome to my blog urghhhh lewis pullman on wattpad and a03 @ fandomx00
1nb means one night blurbs that usually take over the course of one day or two to write and its unedited *names are not genre color coded* 18+ MINORS DONT INTERACT
! REQUESTS OPEN FOR LEWIS CHARACTERS !
smut/hot/fluff/angst/family/dark themes or violence - FIC RECS
Bob Reynolds
Rhett Abbott
Rocco Gauthier
Calvin Evans
Bob Floyd
Todd Stevens
Harrison Knott
i had to find you, tell you i need you - 6.4K
orpheus - 2.5K
ok but imagine - adult! luke from prey at night
love me anyway wc: 19.6K - righty | epilogue wc: 6K
on u - craig's pathetic freakout - wc: 6.2K
when did you get hot? : mini series - dan wc: 45K
Imagine: Luke from Prey at Night, having his first Christmas with his and Y/n's child.
Such A Funny Way - Jordan Weaver
imagine: what happens after the date night with Cameron...
How do you want me to respond? I don't want you to respond. I'm gonna text her tomorrow. Put the phone down.
REMARKABLY BRIGHT CREATURES (2026) — dir. Olivia Newman
The six times Miles Miller pushed himself into the unknown of his recovery + the one time he learnt to let go.
Miles Miller x OC
Summary: In which Miles plans the perfect date night. Bobbie gets fed. And the centre does not hold.
A/N: Jeez I have no idea how this got so long. Thankfully I'm kind of happy...ish with this chapter? We get a look at the progression of their relationship and next time we shall (finally) have smut! And then hopefully down the line go full blown Miles voyeuristic, overstimulated pegging smut. But alas for now, we have ALL the angst.
 It would all be perfect, just like she was. Everything was planned down to the smallest detail. He had to do this, he owed it to her.Â
 The last few weeks had been the happiest Miles could ever remember being. Gail had made it her personal mission in life to help him rediscover himself, to tentatively start the process of finding new interests, new distractions, for when the urge to relapse took hold. For Gail, the ability to introduce someone to her worlds and try new ones, free from the usual judgement, was something she revelled in. He certainly was a drive-in 'guy', a lazy afternoon in the library guy and never again a nightclub at 3am guy. He'd loved rediscovering the nature that had sheltered him as a child when his home life felt like it crumbling around him as they'd gone hiking together. Cooking had been his next revelation as the skills he had developed covering kitchen staff at the El Royale were fine tuned with the help of his neighbour Mrs Jenkins. It had given him the confidence to invite his work colleagues over for watching the football and carved for him a niche he could finally feel comfortable in. A setting where he could introduce his girlfriend to his friends and watch with pride as she won the sweepstake week after week with no end to the gloating.
 While Miles hadn't shared Gail's love of football, it gave them valuable space apart as Miles drove the long journey to St Mary's Church in the city, to avoid the gaze of the town in his private moments, while Gail practiced her own religion at the stadium. The gentle repetition of baseball had begun to win him over, although more as a sleep aid when the voices became too loud. More than anything though he had thrust himself into carpentry, using his hands to hammer and weld his house into something that he could no longer recognise.
Something new. Something better.
The rickety floorboards that signalled his fathers return were slowly replaced with solid oak, the cold basement that had been his timeout turned into a haven for his woodwork, and the mold stained walls repainted, transforming the ambience of the whole house into something warm and welcoming. Miles still didn't know if his future lay in Kalida but if he could make a home for another child, to give them a better chance than him, then it would be something.
 With the house now prepared, he had to get himself looking as presentable as possible. He showered, cut his hair (leaving the side of the fringe dangling as he always did), and then showered again, just in case today was somehow the day.
 He and Gail had made good on their promise to go slow after their initial hiccup at the drive-in, but time hadn't lessened the memory. Even the most mundane task could be interrupted by a phantom kiss, the brush of a shirt turned a caress along his ribs, the touch of a comb her fingers raking along his scalp. On its worse days his whole body felt a nervous energy that he'd try and push onto the house renovations, but the pattern remained constant. The distraction led to mistakes, which led to a trip to the garage to find the tool box, his eyes would glaze over to his secret stash of playboys and he'd give in to his urges until the shame extinguished his desire and sent him spiralling. It was just another thing he'd have to change to be normal enough to be worthy of a relationship.
 Miles brought the steaming iron away from his new buttoned up baby blue shirt and tentatively put his arm through, ignoring the strain on his shoulder where the shotgun pellets had lodged. The new clothes smell still felt alien to his senses, but the soft, fitted shirt hugged closely to his body, instilling him with a sense of confidence he'd not felt since first trying his concierge uniform.
 Their last date had been a surprise for his birthday, he'd planned drinks with Gail and his friends from work but she'd insisted she drive and make a stop beforehand. They'd driven in the direction of the nearest steakhouse but as the parking lot came into view she turned down a side road, taking them behind the few shops that lined the main street. He'd jokingly asked if she was going to kill him and dump his body round the back of the butchers, but she just chuckled and said 'worse, we're going shopping'.
 Gail's flatmate Amber worked at the only men's clothing store in town so when she appeared under a singular overhead door light, wedging a back door open with her foot, he knew he was doomed. What followed was an afternoon of browsing and eventually modelling until he had come out with nearly a whole new wardrobe. And against all the odds, he had enjoyed himself.
 Miles' anxiety had threatened to creep through his cheer every time he had come out of the changing rooms and saw her eyes flicker like camera shutters preserving every one of these moments as though they were worth saving. Like the image of his body was worth saving. The thought made him dizzy, with what emotion he couldn't decipher.
 But Gail had instinctively known it would be a huge step for him so she took it in her increasingly honest lightness of touch, gently teasing when things got too serious, distracting Amber when Miles needed a moment to collect himself and never pushing for an outfit he didn't like. And when he found the clothes that he wanted, she approved them unconditionally, never commenting that they were all long sleeved.
 His doubts had lingered with him, following step by step all the way as he walked the two women to their front door after birthday drinks. Of course his girlfriend would want him to clean up better before they took the next step. But to his surprise she'd simply kissed him good night and under the quiet of the crisp spring breeze she had whispered how proud she was of him, before wishing him a happy birthday and enveloping him in a hug that only broke once Amber started wretching into the bushes. He knew then he wanted every birthday spent with her.Â
 So now he just had to prove it to her. He cooked his finest three course meal with the freshest ingredients from the local farmers market and recipes from the most prestigious of his cookbooks. Now all there was to do was to place the final detail: A bouquet of roses he'd brought from the florist, to sit proudly in the centre of the fold-up dining table.
Gail walked up the steps to Miles' house at 7pm sharp. In truth she had wandered the block for the last twenty minutes in an attempt to not appear too eager. She'd not felt butterflies before a date in years and it made her feel sick in more ways than one. While neither of them had outright stated it, a sense of import weighed heavily over the approaching dinner that felt tangible. It was certainly not the only date they had been on alone, but it was the first one where his neighbours would be able to peak through the curtains and see a single woman, with a reputation no less, enter the home of a single male. But there was no way Miles felt ready for that, right?
The town's gossip network had barely tolerated their relationship after the evening at the drive-in. The story had been told by the Walkers in hushed tones to their next door neighbour, every vaguely hinted, just scandalous dear, detail left open enough to leave everything to the Marchs' imagination. So imagine everything they did to the Stevens. Who just had to mention it to the Greenwalds at the grocers, within ear shot of Mr Robins who filled in the blanks he missed to Ms Stewart at the school playground.
At first the spotlight had almost been too much to bear as the heads would turn in quick succession whenever Miles passed, igniting his paranoia tenfold. It's not paranoia when they are all watching me. His time in the El Royale had trained him to see threats in every shadow, and now it felt like they were enclosing in on all sides. As much as he resented the lies they believed about him being a war hero, at least it gave him a blanket of security. A blanket that now felt like it could be snatched from under his feet at any moment, with him left out in the cold.
However, he had persevered. He tried to muster spite for the people he had grown up with, to take their petty arrows and fling them back like Gail could, but he rose to every occasion with a mumbled reposte and hurried shuffle away. So he would try again, and again, the weight of his failure making it harder still, until an overheard 'what would his mother have said?' finally broke his resolve.
Gail had seen the toll it took on him, had provided him with a way out, smiling with every word as her heart broke, but he had refused. Seeing her try to surpress her love with every ounce of strength and failing, all for his sake, how could he do any different?
So he held her hand more tightly on every date and when the paranoia and anxiety became too much he focused on her, their fingers intertwined, until eventually the interest died down, the heads no longer turned and the gossipy whispers became just background noise. He may not be able to rage against it, but he could drown it out by loving her more intensely than ever.
He must just be desperate for comfort the poor thing the voices eventually concluded, it's just a short term thing, he'll come to his senses, her mask will slip, someone just needs to be the one to tell him what she's really like ...
And as Miles learned to block it out, Gail heard it all replayed in her mind as she pushed the buzzer.
The door flung open before the buzzing had stopped.
Miles stood before her, his new clothes catching her eyes for just a moment before she met his gaze. To her he looked like one of the saints he prayed to, a medieval mystic who had lived the life of a hermit and denied their body any succour until they beheld the divine. She didn't know if she could ever get used to it.
"Gail, y-you came... You look absolutely incredible. Not that you don't always. Just more so-or different incredible um-"
"Easy for you to say. My poor middle aged, substitute teacher, where did you go?"
Miles blushed, cheeks reddening to the hue of her lipstick, as her gentle teasing stirred that anxious desire that gathered at the pit of his stomach whenever she left him so expertly tongued tied.
"Not that I'm complaining, but you better let me in before my boyfriend sees us and gets jealous."
"Oh! 'Course." He turned to the side and ushered her in, scanning the street for rogue spies in the frame of neighbours' windows before sealing themselves safe from the outside world.
"Tch, your boyfriend sounds like a tyrant, an a-angel like you should be allowed to kiss whoever she wants."
"Mmhmm what a shame that I only have eyes for one then."
"W-What a lucky person."
"If that's lasagna I smell, I think he's made me the lucky one."
Gail folded her own jacket before handing it to Miles who stood straight at the coat stand, reverting back to the fresh faced bell boy he'd once been at her beck and call. "If you're hungry now, I have the pate all served up?"
"That sounds perfect, thank you."
"Great! J-just through here then." He offered his elbow and led her through the lounge and into the dining room, pulling her seat out before walking over to a small side table of drinks, "Can I get you anything?"
"Just a beer thanks. I'm easy", she smiled.
"Ask and you shall receive", he bowed as he poured himself a small glass of wine and grabbed a bottle of beer before sitting next to her, their knees just inches away from touching. For a guy who doesn't get innuendo, he sure acts like he understood...
The dining table was only small, one of the dwindling number of relics from his childhood. He and his small circle of friends would be relegated to it while the adults entertained themselves on the larger table that now was nothing more than timber in his workshop. It was dressed in a newly bought cotton cloth that disguised it's cheap folding legs and made it look at one with the elaborately decorated room. On the walls, small uplights lined the wallpaper, their warmth enshrining their haven in a soft glow like something from one of Gail's favourite Austen novels. Only the closed curtains gave any indication to a world outside what was just theirs.
Gail heard rather than saw Miles' sweaty hands rub against his trousers under the table to ground himself. "S-So how's work?" He asked.
"Good, it's lambing season so everything is busy and messier but we're on a good run of healthy lambs so can't complain. Actually, it's me, of course I can. Mr Tillerson is brainstorming more signs to put up as far as Wabang to drum up more business. It's actual hell."
"He looking through books again for quotes?"
"Worse, music lyrics. Don't think I can take another day of depressing country music but he'll move onto the next shiny distraction soon enough..." She took a swig of beer. "And if he doesn't, I'll take a job as a stripper, music will be better then. Pay too." Gail picked up her fork and shovelled a huge chunk of pate into her mouth, barely able to surpress a hearty groan at how good it was. She caught the flicker of pride in Miles' eyes as the tension disapated from his shoulders in response to her second bite, allowing him to finally relax enough to start eating himself.
"Oh, and just to give you a heads up, Mrs Jamieson's dog passed away... She's pretty beat up about it as you can imagine" said Gail.
"I'm s-sorry to hear that, she came by the shop with him a lot. She seemed to really love him." Miles' looked over to the waving tail of Bobbie who sat almost hidden under the curtains on the window sil. He held onto his fork that bit tighter.
"Yeah, that's why I mentioned it. 'Figured you being a goodie two shoes you could see to 'forget' to charge her or something. She cried on me. I just patted her while she made me feel emotions. I hated it."
"Sounds like you handled it well."
Gail looked unsure as she spoke, unused to what she assumed must be him taking the piss out of her. "Pfft, as if. She was crying and I just stood there while she soaked my blouse." She tried to play it off as a joke but Miles didn't take the bait - instead he placed his hand lightly over her arm on the table and softly stroked the crook of the elbow.
"Mrs Jamieson is a strong woman. She wouldn't have liked a fuss, and she definitely wouldn't have cried in front of you if she didn't trust you to stay calm."
"I've done this job for years, I should know what to do by now, not just luck into it." She plugged her mouth with her beer before her voice faltered.
"I think you're more intuitive than you realise. She asks about you, you know? When she comes to the s-shop I mean. Just how you are, not fishing for anything. Said once how much her dog likes coming to see you. That's high praise from her, only conversation I used to get out of her was how much she hates the other staff."
That dragged the laugh at out of her. "Get Luke or Dan to give her a free shop then, she won't think I told you she cried either. Kill three birds."
"Noted, sweetheart." He said, meeting her smile as he retracted his hand and took a sip of his wine.
"So, work good with you?"
 He nodded. "Honestly... It's been really good. Old boss is finally back from her heart surgery and so wanted a catch up on how I'd been.... S-She was really supportive actually. Dan and Luke had kind of filled her in on everything, although think she'd heard about us anyway. She just asked if I was happy, so said I was, and she just patted me shoulder and said that's good. She asked how therapy is going, said I can take time off if ever I need it and she'd cover for me." He looked down at his empty plate and hunched his shoulders over as he often did when he was embarrassed. "E-Even mentioned about seeing to become a permanent supervisor", he whispered.
 "That's amazing Miles!" Gail lit up. "She must have been thinking about it for a while to mention it as soon as she came back."
Nothing could excite her like someone else seeing what she saw in Miles.Â
 Face still set down, his embarrassment only magnified but it wasn't enough to hide his delight at hearing Gail's enthusiasm. "Actually I think... D-Dan and Luke vouched for me. Probably because I let them home early and do the stock checks myself."
"Or they just like you and think you're good at your job" she insisted, thrusting her fork at him to punctuate her point.
"What, and just let myself accept a c-compliment?"Â
 She laughed, "Okay point taken."
 The conversation continued over the main meal and into desert. Gail had to give it to him, his cooking really was incredible, even Miles eventually relented that the chocolate profiteroles were 'not half bad'. They talked about their friends, reminisced about Bobbie's last trip to the vets and argued who was going to win the world series. The chatter flowed easily, the topic bouncing from one to the next and deepening when needed, before teasing brought them back. The smell of wine and beer eventually overpowered the gentle perfume of roses and seasoning, loosening their hands and tongues as Miles took the initiative and started to flirt. Hard. Unsubtle and awkward, but carried with a sincerity that downright scared her. What the fuck...
 Gail had always been the one to initiate casual flirting but as Miles' foot caressed her ankle in a deniable, barely there touch, she realised. Miles wanted to have sex. Today. With her.
And just like that, all the gossip, the voices of doubt in her head, the years of betrayal and ostracization converged, from shards of broken glass that had cut her a thousand times into a full and clear picture. She was going to destroy the man she loved.Â
She knew it was possibility but he had retreated into his quiet and mild mannered demeanor since the drive in with such meekness that the iceberg had disappeared from view. And now they were barrelling straight towards it. I'm such a fucking idiot, fuck fuck FUCK
She had to stop this, she just had to think how.
 "You taking the job then?", she asked, attempting to distract him to bide her time to stop the litany of fucks that ran across her mind.
 But Miles suddenly looked unsure again, he got up quickly, cleaning the plates in front of them and mumbled a short 'I don't know actually'. What had she done? Gail followed him in his retreat to the kitchen, forcing him to carry on, "I haven't decided what I want to do yet. I've been getting the house back together so at least I can have the option to sell it, but once that's done I haven't really decided. They deserve someone to take the job who will stick it out. If I say yes and then leave a few months later I would feel like I betrayed their trust. It would be wrong."
You're too good Miles... Don't make this so difficultÂ
 "They've been so good to me down at the shop but I don't think I can be a store clerk for the rest of my life.... I-I... used to work in hospitality...", his voice faltered and he turned to the sink to plunge his hands into the water and start scrubbing the plates like he had to wash away every atom ever associated with dirt.
His back now fully turned to her he continued, "and I was g-good at it. I like helping people. I was thinking maybe... o-opening a restaurant?" He paused as though bracing for an incredulous laugh that never came. Relaxing, he continued, "Seeing the guys and you eat my food and enjoy it? I.. I like it. I could make the restaurant from scratch, make the furniture myself, maybe hire people like me, veterans with have lost their way in life... Maybe I could even teach cooking? I don't know it's s-silly..."
"Never silly Miles. It sounds like..." Heaven, everything I could want with you, "a good plan."
He turned then and looked unblinkingly at her, eyes searching for what exactly, she wasn't sure. "Maybe. The only issue is this town isn't really big enough for what I have in mind..." She could see the question start to form behind his gaze. Would you leave with me?
She panicked.
"If you are thinking of leaving, why'd you ever come back to begin with?" She blurted out. This had always been the sticking point with him, what kind of man came back here after escaping? Someone who wouldn't want to be with you, that's who. She had tried to surpress the question, let his assurances drown out the constant doubt bubbling away under the surface, and now finally she had panicked and let the lid off.
But instead of the bombshell she thought she had unleashed, Miles just turned around, a gentle smile tugging his lips like he had expected this question for months. "Here I'll show you." He opened the cupboard and pulled out a single can, placed his finger in the ring and pulled.
Meow meow meow.
On cue Bobbie came barrelling out of the dining room and sat patiently as Miles' feet, gazing up lovingly a the can of cat food held aloft. "Come here Princess", he cooed, lifting her up and placing her gently on the counter with her supper.
He stared adoringly at her, stroking her back as she ate. "I came back because I needed to be... a-accountable", he spoke softly, trying not to spook either Gail or Bobbie, she wasn't sure. "I started using after I left the second time. Something happened... and I thought I would be able to kick the habit once it was resolved but I-I couldn't. I Moved to San Francisco, figured I could distract myself there, but instead of being alone in a desert, I was just alone in the middle San Fransisco. It was so easy to disappear in the crowd and just... Sink into the darkness."
Bobbie sensed the tension in his pets and turned to start licking his hand. "I was ashamed to come back looking like this, but I had to. I had to be surrounded by people who cared about me, even though it hurt. And it worked. I know it's not perfect, and I h-hate how some of them treat you, but it was what I needed."
"I did come close r-relapsing a few months ago. It's hard for me to be in this house sometimes when it's quiet and, you know how my depression can get... But then I found Bobbie a-and...", he choked, "she saved me. I now have someone of my own that I need to be accountable for. I need to be sober for her, that's all there is to it." He wiped his thumb under his eyes, "... And she brought me to you."
He finally looked back at Gail then, giving every iota of energy he had to force all his feelings for her into just one look.
"I feel so b-blessed now. For the first time I feel I can be myself and it's because of everyone. I have my job, my Church, therapist, friends, Bobbie-", he laughed like the joy was overflowing through him, "my cooking, knitting, clothes, carpentry, walks in the woods- and it's all made perfect when you're there with me Gail. I don't need to be here anymore, I can move on and keep myself together. I...I see that now."
He pushed himself off from the kitchen counter and walked cautiously towards her. For Gail, she felt like a rabbit preparing for the wolf to strike.
"You'll do great, Miles. No matter what. I know you will." And just like that the damn broke, and she started to cry.
He stopped in his tracks. He looked like she'd thrown a bucket of ice over him. "Y-You're saying that like you won't be there to see it", he asked cautiously, waiting for her to laugh and start teasing him. But it didn't come.
"Please Miles, this is an amazing evening. Let me keep it as a happy memory?"
"I... I can't if you're planning on breaking up with me. I-Is that what you mean?" He pleaded. His stomach lurched, how had he judged this so wrong? Gail stood holding herself in a hug and said nothing. "Where's this come from? Please... I'm s-sorry but this is too important to me."
She sniffed, but her voice was firm. Almost cruel, "Too important for you now. Give it time, maybe a month from now, maybe even a few years, you'll realise how much better you can do."
He became incredulous, "With who Gail? No one ever even looked at me before you did."
 "You just needed help being more confident, like you said, 'finding yourself again'. And you are."
 "So when you suggest all these different places... Buy me clothes, encourage me to try all these hobbies..."
"-I wanted to be able to play some part in you getting the future you deserve. Maybe even be a thing for you remember once in a while when you're watching a cheesy sci-fi movie. But that's it." She smiled sadly as the tears kept falling.
 Miles' arms were wild now, begging in gestures what he could not say with words. But he tried anyway, desperate he pushed on, "a-and why can't you be my future? Why can't we watch those films together? Gail I still don't understand... I thought we were doing well together? P-please you're telling me I'm losing you and you won't give me a straight answer. What did I do wrong? I can be better-" could he? In all honesty it felt like was giving her his best version- that's what the dinner had all been about, and if that wasn't enough...
Hearing him beg like it was his fault broke her heart, so she resolved to do it herself. She snapped, unable to hear his anguish, "It's not you! This fuckin' town is right. I've tried- I've tried so hard to escape it but I'm never getting out of here. I talk a big game about going to college, getting my degree, becoming a vet like Mr Tillerson- But this is me! Just this. I'll never have the money, I'll never be smart or brave enough to do it. And definitely not enough to deserve you. All I can ever hope for is to be a vet's secretary, in a hellhole that fuckin' doesn't care what happens either way."
 "And i-ive told you, you are all those things- I can help with the money-"
 Gail snarled, "Saying it doesn't make it true! You see the good in people Miles' and guess what, it's not there. I'm not like you, you can go anywhere and be anyone, and you will, so long as I don't latch on. This is for the both of us"
 "Are you done?", Miles stood straight now. He looked taller than he ever had done before.
 "Don't Miles...", she sounded so tired now. "Don't give me the speech again. It won't work-"
"Then let me show you."
 Before she could reply, his lips slammed into hers as he destroyed every modicum of distance between them. He knew now how Gail liked to be kissed. His hands framed her cheeks in holy reverence, the tender touch a stark contrast to the desperate licks of his tongue as if he could get her to yield, to open her mouth to him, he could sing his love into her and just maybe make her stay. But she broke away, a single hand to his chest to hold him back.
 "It's okay Gail, I can do this. L-let me... uh make l-love to you. I'll do whatever you want."
He leaned to kiss her again but she turned her face away in his palms. "No Miles, I won't let your first time be like this."
 "I-I-I don't mind-"
"Please Miles... Don't make this so hard."
 He finally stood back from her then but took her hand against his chest and pressed it against his racing heart. "N-No...", he swallowed thickly, "No. If you want to end this I won't ever stop you, but I won't pretend I don't love you. And I-I think you love me to, and it scares you and I know it does because it scares me too."
 "Miles-"
 "Please. Just... I've messed up. You've been in pain and I didn't see it and I'm s-sorry but I need to tell you everything this time before I lose that chance."
"Okay... Okay... I'm sorry I never wanted to hurt you like this. I.... Fuck-.. fuck, Miles."
 "You don't have to say it Gail, it's okay."
 "No, nothing's okay...", she hiccuped. "But I do... Feel the same way. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me Miles, I'm just so sorry."
 "Then stay, please. Let's sober up and then just hear me out. If you want to leave then I'll understand but I want to tell you. You've been feeling like you don't deserve me when i-ive been a monster. I'm ready... I'm ready." He repeated it to himself like a mantra as he leaned close, forehead bumping into hers as they swayed together, their drinks catching up to them as exhaustion curled around their bodies and led them by the hand to the sofa. They clung to each other as they fought to stay awake, but sleep claimed Miles first, tears still stained to his cheeks as he wrapped his legs around her, entwining their whole bodies together. He kept her bracketed in the length of the sofa, her head nestled into his shoulder as his back blocked her from the view of the rest of the world. Gail stayed pressed to him, mind racing as to what he wanted to tell her, but she could give him this. She could listen, and then maybe he could let her go peacefully.
 When they awoke, the sun barely creeping through the closed windows, they held each other close, exhaustion melting from their embrace but they lingered for hours longer, both fearing to break the quiet truce incase it was their last.
Eventually Bobbie's demand for breakfast stirred them to action, the routine of the day performed with a finality which weighed down every step. The house was silent. Stale beer and wine still clung to their clothes and invaded their every pore. His house smelt like the dive bar they had their first 'date' in.
They sat together on the floor of his kitchen. Neither of them could remember how they got there but as Miles looked at her hunched between the wall and the fridge, he thought he could still see that sparkle in her eyes as she looked at him, the one that told him what he needed to know. It gave him the courage to face it. With Bobbie curled on his lap, she offered herself to his shaking hands. And for the first time, he told another soul about the El Royale.
The six times Miles Miller pushed himself into the unknown of his recovery + the one time he learnt to let go.
Summary: Gail and Miles go on their first official date to the drive in. Gail teaches Miles how to kiss and then some. Miles wrestles with his voyeuristic tendencies. And Bobbie the cat gets a good nap.
A/N: Don't worry, we'll definitely building up to a chapter when Miles gets to indulge his voyeuristic side and enjoy it. Hope you enjoy a small taste of some of the smut to come, but alas they're still idiots.
Content warnings: non-consensual voyeurism, heavy making out, swearing.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 3
The date hadn't even started, and yet Miles knew he had fucked it up. Miles ran around his bedroom like the anti-Mary Poppins, pulling open drawers and flinging the contents onto any surface that claimed them first. He stood half dressed in a freshly ironed pair of jeans and black socks as he scoured every possible place his favourite shirt could be. All of his clothes had been from before he was conscripted for war, and all of them now hung over his slighter frame like a kid trying an elder siblings outfit. It had taken him the first two decades of his life to shed his baby fat and now he longed for it to fill the spaces he once occupied again. The diet of War, heroin and shame had reduced his appetite and he hadn't dared to brave a clothes store since he'd returned. He'd made improvements over the last few months, slowly but surely he could look at himself in the mirror without breaking down, but that didn't mean he could manage someone else fussing over his appearance.
 Since coming back to his childhood home after the El Royale he had cut his own hair, the evidence obvious to anyone who looked hard enough to see his jagged neck line. When he had first put back on the clothes he had worn when life had been normal it had given him comfort at first, a gentle hug around his body that said everything could go back to how it was. But even before the war the cracks had started to show, the phantom pain of the now healed cigarette burns that littered his body a testament to his inability to completely hide to his past forever.
 He needed his long sleeved shirt.
 Behind him, oblivious to the chaos before her, Bobbie played in the ever increasing mountain of soft clothes, purring happily as another pair of socks bounced between her paws.
 The date hadn't even started and yet Gail knew she had fucked it up. Thursday night for a date? They both had work in the morning and being the good boy scout he was he'd probably want to go straight back home to get some sleep as heaven forbid he not work at 100% capacity for one day. And a drive in? They're going to be surrounded by horny teenagers while she has to caress the gear stick like a weirdo to keep her hands off him.Â
 Her flatmate Amber helped her fix her makeup in the bathroom mirror while she tried to keep her worries off her face so she didn't mess up the lipstick with a grimace.Â
 "Earth to Gail", Amber repeated drawing her back to their messy flat.
 "Mhm?" The eyeliner brush rhythmically lulling her into a more peaceful state.
 "You not hear the doorbell?", Amber looked amused as she took one last look at her work.
 "The...? Oh fuck that will be him. Shit, where's my stuff."Â
 Amber just laughed and presented her her handbag from under the sink. She took one long stare and then quirked her eye brow up, pulled a couple of condoms from her trousers pocket and dropped them one at a time into the mouth of the bag.
 "You be good you hear?"
 Gail rolled her eyes before leaning in for a quick kiss to the cheek in thanks.Â
 "Scout's honour."
 She reached for the bag but Amber grasped it just for a beat longer.
 "I mean it. He's a sweet man but every time you look at him he looks like Bambi in the headlights of a runaway truck. Just... You know. Go easy."
 She nodded, "I will. See you later."
 She didn't like the sound of doubt that was in her voice. She liked Miles, of course she did. He was sweet, handsome, funny in his own quiet way and good with animals, but most of all he had stood up for her. In other words, he was too good for her. And here she was, chancing dragging him down because he was too innocent to realise the damage she could do. They hadn't even had their first proper date and already she was preparing herself for the heartbreak she was too selfish to stop.
 By the time she had made it down the stairs Miles stood at the doorstep, his hair slicked back and jumper covering every inch of skin as he still had to brace against the cold. He looked perfect. Over one arm rested a brown coat while his other hand held out a bouquet of wild flowers. He must have picked them himself to avoid the gossip spreading of who a bunch of roses could be for.
"H-hi, sorry I'm late. Bobbie had taken what I was going to wear and turned it into a nest. H-hope you like middle aged substitute teachers".
 "You look amazing Miles" she said simply. Warmth crept up his neck in response, rubbing his injured half of his face against his shoulder as he often did like he was trying to erase the blush from his cheeks.
 "Not compared to you Gail. You look like an angel... You're radiant, you're... C-cold". He instantly offered up his coat towards her which she accepted. It smelled of his aftershave and not a little bit like damp and wet cat. "Oh and the flowers are for you too. O-obviously."
 "Thank you... They're really nice actually." The disbelief that she could enjoy receiving flowers was kept suppressed as to not worry Miles that he'd miscalculated. His nerves were on full show now his hands had nothing to fuss over and he continued to stare at her like a fish out of water who'd never expected to get this far on land.Â
 While previously she had enjoyed tormenting him every time he had come with Bobbie for a check up, now she could see how much doing this right meant to him. With a deep breath she braved the first step of the safety of the door frame and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. He took a sudden suck of air as his body tensed up. Gail quickly retreated, scared she'd misread his nerves but his face showed no signs of anguish. On the contrary he looked beatified as he fought to keep his composure as to not give away how affected he was by a simple kiss. The sparkle in his eyes caught by the street lights drew her in as he bit his lip to try and suppress the small moan that rattled around his teeth.
 "Oh wow I ummm."
 Meow.
They both swerved their heads towards Miles' car as the tap tap tap of cat claws ran down the passenger window.
"Ah! I hope you don't mind but I brought a third wheel, Bobbie is a better conversationalist than I am."Â
Fuck, it's going to hurt when you leave
Oh God, it's going to hurt when you find out
Â
 Despite all common sense to the contrary the date went better than either of them could ever have imagined. Certainly better than anyone in town would have imagined now they all knew. Miles had driven to the back of the drive-in lot, a mumbled 'I normally just park here' the only acknowledgement that he'd avoided a number of better spaces. But Gail didn't mind, she'd been someone's dirty secret before and she could do it again, especially if it meant it protected Miles in the process.
 They made comfortable small talk until the start of the first feature as Bobbie curled up asleep in the back seat. It was an older classic about a group of scientists who thaw out an alien from the past who ends up sucking the life out of everyone around him. Miles wasn't going to think too hard about that one. It was a film he'd read about in magazines during slow periods at the El Royale but he had never had the chance to go to the theatres. In all honesty it was kind of disappointing, the monster design was boring and the tension paper thin compared to his favourites, but Gail was enthralled. He was pretty sure she was laughing at parts that weren't supposed to be funny but her running commentary filled the long scenes of exposition and despite his critical brain he found himself swept along. Gail noticed how truly joyful he looked as he started to join in with her quips but she couldn't understand how how much this meant to him to be able to reconnect to this lost part of his teenage self that adored these movies.Â
 The second film was much stronger. Giant ants invading a desert town. Short, simple and to the point and perfect in every way. What bit they could make out anyway. The distance between them and the screen was all the more noticeable now the film demanded their attention and Miles could sense Gail's frustration at missing the dialogue, but she said nothing.Â
"Hey, would you mind if we moved up a bit?" He offered.
 She wanted to shout YES, of course she would, but the front rows haf filled up and any advancement would like mean being surrounded by their neighbours on every angle.Â
 "...Only if you're okay with that."
 "I am." He confirmed, the same confidence in his voice as he used at the diner when he defended her.Â
 He drove straight to the middle of the audience.
Â
 Despite his confidence in her, Miles' habit of keeping the injured side face covered still lingered. It was subconscious at this point as he rested his hand on the window but it meant he couldn't see who resided in the car next to them. On the other side the Knotts' kids watched the film while their parents slept in the front.Â
 With a lull in the action as the film started it's final act, Miles' gaze finally wandered to the neighbour cars. He still didn't look to the driver's side as to not be too obvious and draw attention.Â
 The two cars diagonal to them belonged to groups of teenagers who hooted and hollered at the film, attention completely enraptured in the movie. In front, Mr and Mrs Mears sat in the back of their car, the husband's arm draped over the shoulder as she looked like she'd fallen asleep. Everybody's a critic.
 But it was the Ford in his rearview mirror that truly caught his attention. The blue frame shook side to side, half hidden under the shadow of the truck behind them. He knew he shouldn't look but old habits died hard. The nausea hit him as he realised how easily his mind was taken over by the urge to watch again. He knew it was wrong, an invasion of the couples privacy, while he sat next to his date no less, but the anticipation of seeing one of them rise up, maybe even naked sent the blood flow straight down. His right hand moved from the window and clenched the steering wheel hard, knuckles going white as images filled his mind of what was going on. He didn't have long to fantasie though as the swaying died down, the car finally silent as darkness settled over it. He had to strain his eyes as the changing brightness of the film flickered over the car window giving him only briefest opportunities to catch the couple, like a cheap series of peep show slides. Â
 Just when he was about to give up they came up for air. They looked to be in their thirties, the woman doing up her beige blouse, hair still a mess, and the man shirtless, at ease with his state of undress as he kept going back to kiss at her breasts. She swatted him away so he went back and kissed her neck. The idea of putting his mouth to her pulse point and sucking sent a bolt of electricity down his spine. The idea of the man putting his mouth to his throat sent his eyes wild.
 Miles panicked and grabbed at the half empty bag of popcorn between them and rested it on his groin. However the noise alerted his companion who quickly saw the telltale signs; flushed look, dilated pupils, lips wet with spit. Her friend's warning forgotten she beamed. Brilliant.
 "Miles", she whispered. His face turned suddenly like he'd been slapped. "If you have a thing for giant ants it's okay, you can tell me". She stroked his hair in mock sympathy.
 "Is it the hairy legs? Or the way they stepped on that guy? I may struggle to help you with this one but upon my honour I will try."
 He blinked a couple of times, not knowing how the squirm out of this without her looking at him in disgust. He choked on the sense of shame that clogged his throat. Had she seen what he was looking at?
 "I...No-no it.. it just happens sometimes. I don't know why, I'm so sorry."
 "Hey, it's okay I'm just teasing. And never apologise for something like that, none of that guilt crap with me". She lowered her hand to his jaw line and stroked soft circles to release the tension.Â
 "Please don't take this the wrong way but have you ever been with someone before?"
 The tension came flooding back. He knew this question was coming but despite all the time he had to prep his answer nothing had ever been enough. Miles tried to protect himself by turning his gaze away but her hand held firm and kept him looking at her, their back straining slightly to close the distance between chairsÂ
 "... N-No. No, I haven't. I-Is that o-okay?"
 "Of course it is baby. We'll go slow, I'm not going anywhere." A quick kiss to his cheek sealed the deal and she let go of him to relaxed back against the window.Â
 Miles continued to watch her as the movie played on, long forgotten. She looked so beautiful reclining back in her seat, legs propping themselves back onto the dash board like she had lived in this space her entire life. She slotted right into his life like she was made for it. And maybe if he worked at it, he could fit into hers. He just had to make sure he kept her protected from his perversions.Â
 "Shit, Miles... Don't look behind you but it's the Walkers and they're staring right at us." Gail pushed herself further back into the corner of her seat, retreating as far back as possible without looking like she'd been caught in the act. "They'll tell the whole town by the time we even get home. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I'm being so selfish-". She looked so small of a sudden, her previous defiance against the town that had turned their back on her wilted in supplication as soon as Miles got caught in the crossfire.Â
"Can I k-kiss you?"Â
"What? Miles..."
 He gulped, finding his strength. "F-fuck the Walkers. Do you want to kiss me?"
 "Since the day I met you."
 And at that they wasted no further time as they surged forward on their knees, popcorn falling to the ground, the angle awkward as Miles framed the sides of her face and brought her lips to his. His enthusiasm pushed her immediately backwards onto her butt so she spread her legs to welcome his body in. The gap between them ensured he couldn't press his torso to hers so he doubled his focus on kissing her, closed mouth kisses pressed short and sweet to hers but with more pressure than finesse. It only took a matter of seconds for him to realise he didn't know what he was doing. He had seen all sorts at the El Royale but he didn't know if what he saw was for polite company or it was something dirty to avoid. He tentatively tried to open up to test the waters but his nerves screamed at him to barrel through until it was over.Â
 A gentle shushing drew Gail away from him so he followed the sound until a single finger to his lips stopped him. He didn't need for her to say anything to know he was fucking this up. His eyes were wet as he mumbled his apology but that just gave her the opening she needed to tease his lower swollen lip with her tongue, the tip tracing the edge causing him to moan. In truth his arousal hadn't wained since he'd caught the couple behind them and now every flick of her tongue felt like sparks against him threatening to set him alight.
 He kept his mouth lax as he let her play him like a fiddle. Miles drew one hand away to stable himself against door as her tongue got more insistent, working it's way into his mouth and tracing the edge of his teeth. Her nails ran along his scalp in sweet contrast to the softness of her lips. He keened, she thought he heard him call for god, but it was muffled as she slipped her tongue fully inside. Her hands came to hold his sides over his jumper to keep him steady as she felt him sway above her. It was only when she broke away to catch her breath she saw the bulge in his jeans straining towards her. She wanted to bring her thigh in, watch him rut against her leg like a dog in heat as he begged her to let him cum.
 Shit where had that come from?. When no more kisses came, Miles took matters back into his own hands and tried the same action on her, tracing her mouth, beseeching entrance into her warmth and she welcomed him eagerly. Finally his enthusiasm produced results as he messily wrestled with her tongue. The show of dominance felt like honey to her core, but if he wanted dominance he'd have to earn it, so she caressed back, giving it her all as she went light headed from the lack of oxygen. She expected a tussle but Miles yeilded instantly, moaning into her mouth, sharing the most intimate song between them. He went slack again as he struggled to keep his weight off her, his whimpers echoing in the car like the most beautiful symphony. Gail was addicted. She had to hear this every day. Hell, she'd stay in this god forsaken hellhole if it just meant she could touch him just once more.Â
 They came up for air again and this time Miles steeled himself and kissed a line from her mouth, down the line of acne scars like holy relics.
"You." kiss "are." kiss "perfect."
 He wanted so badly to say I love you, those three traitorous words bubbling up his throat the more desperate he became. But he couldn't, it was so pathetic, this was just their first date and there he was, ready to propose to the first woman who had touched him.
 And then her hand traced the line of scars on his face and for once he didn't feel disgusted, he felt cherished, "I lo-".Â
 He caught himself just in time and nestled his face into her neck and latched onto the hard line of muscle and sucked and licked to keep his mouth busy to stop himself from ruining the night. But god, this felt good. He replicated the man in the Ford, teasing her neck with his teeth until Gail cried out "Miles! So good baby."
 Maybe he could risk it further? His hand not on the door rested against the curve of her breast, not daring anything more forceful. Her voice slurred as she egged him on, "m'sweet cleverr boy. That's it... So good for me."
 At that Miles lost the battle with his body and collapsed against her as he lost his grip on the door. He knocked the breathe out of her, clanking their foreheads together as the gear shift stuck painfully into his ribs. He pushed himself back quickly -
"Oh I'm sorry im-"
 Gail just laughed as she pushed herself up, back protesting at the awkward position they'd been in.Â
 "Miles that was amazing, you're amazing." She cleaned the excess saliva from her face with the back of her hand. She laughed again in amazement and leaned towards where the Walkers had parked, middle finger stuck up proud and shouted, "Hey Walkers, fuck-"
They were gone. So was everyone else.Â
 Miles fixed his hair and looked out towards the empty screen. "Shit, I missed the ending... w-wonder if they beat the ants."
 "Miles Miller I swear-"
 "What, I can't tease you?" His smile reached his eyes for the first time she'd known him. She realised now his face was almost as messy as hers as he pulled his collar into place and tucked his jumper back into his trousers before lying back against the car seat, catching his breath like he'd run a mile.
 "You kiss like that again and you can do whatever you want."
 "Like 'shakes at the diner?"
 She rolled her eyes, "You're so sweet it's disgusting."
 He leaned towards her and stole a final kiss to the tip of her nose.Â
 "You love it" The I hope you do left unsaid as he tried to appear confident, his racing heart shouting to the contrary. "But don't worry your reputation is safe with me."
The six times Miles Miller pushed himself into the unknown of his recovery + the one time he learnt to let go.
A/N: Hi everyone! So after saying I can't write full fics, the boredom took hold and here we are. I've (attempted) to write a Miles a few years out from the film so hopefully it still reads as him even if he is a bit more functional. Should get the chapters out pretty quick and then disappear back into the shadows of lurking from whence I came. Mwah xoxo
Content warnings: eventual smut but for now, canon typical drug use, swearing, Miles' PTSD and period typical sexism.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 1
What absolute fucking idiot decided a veterinary practice needed to be open seven days a week in a deadbeat town where half the population had farm animals that were eaten as soon as they limped funny. The man on the sign staring right back at her that's who. Somehow he'd managed to get the teeth to shine on paper liked they were made out diamonds. Shame Mr Tillerson couldn't put those magic powers into running a viable business.
Kalida Veterinary Practice: Give me your old dogs, your poor lost strays, your huddled masses of hamsters yearning to breathe free from pain.
Gail Peters had her notice written up before the sign had even gone up. Mr Tillerson had worked on that sign for weeks, trying different shit eating grins and speed reading every major work of literature for a quote to parody. He laughed every morning he came through the door and read that sign, flashed the same pose to Gail and gave her a motivational pep talk to hype her up for the most beautiful, perfect day of work ahead.
The end times couldn't come soon enough. And still, in this whole godforsaken town, to this most godforsaken resident, he was probably the one who she would be sad for if they got hit by a bus. Which was why, on the last day of winter, nine hours into a shift with exactly zero customers, she sat at the front desk, nose deep in a travel guide of New York. She would find her way out of this town one day. Gail plotted out the art galleries she'd visit on her first week in the big city as the sharp ring of the doorbell startled her, book crashing to the floor as she caught her breathe. The demise of Kalida Veterinary Practice has been delayed by one more day. Damn it.
A quick cluster of knocks banged against the front door as a shadowy figure peaked its head around the window, eager to see if there was any life in the building. She couldn't make out any of the strangers details, outdoor lights were a luxury they couldn't afford, but he buzzed with an anxiety that set her on edge. So it was either it was a real emergency or an axe murderer, win win.
"Sorry, hold on one moment" she called out. The figure stilled and disappeared to stand outside the solid door. She unlocked it and there stood a man she'd only seen out of the corner of the eye as she went about town. A man who took up as little space as possible, like a cryptid who disappeared as soon as you turned to focus on him. Now the rain had solidified him into a mess of soaked clothes that tied him to the ground, the hood of his coat drawn forward over as much of his face as possible. He was holding a bundle of towels that seemed to shift slightly.
"Hi. Um, it's Miles right?" He looked shocked that he knew him but nodded once.
"Yes Miss, and I'm sorry to come just before you're closing but..."
Meow.
He looked down, his eyes softened as he bounced the bundle up and down. "I found her just outside the back of the convenience store I work at in one of dumpsters. She was trying to climb out but it looks like a dog or something got a hold of her."
Gail put her arms out to take the cat bundle and he carefully transferred her over. "Thanks Miles, let's bring her to Mr Tillerson."
"Oh thank you, thank you. I thought I hadn't made it in time..." His jaw clenched as he tried to calm his breathing. He looked like he had run a mile but if he came from the SaverMart it must have only taken three minutes top. Huh.
She gave him a reassuring smile and ushered him inside from the cold. The cat turned it's tiny black head to find Miles again and meowed. "I think she likes you."
He blushed, "Oh no, she probably just wants to take another swipe at me. She was pretty feisty. Didn't want to go down without a fight did you sweetheart?"
He pulled his hood down and tilted his face towards her, healed scars lining the side of his visage, skin tight and raised in a scattershot of small wounds. She had heard about him of course, the war hero who left town and mysteriously returned years later, face marred in some way that he never talked about. She couldn't understand why someone would come back after finally escaping. Rumors swirled around the town but he had seemed happy to let the consensus settle on him being in a car accident. No one ever asked for details on something so commonplace.
She felt awkward suddenly, his eyes looked sad, incongruent with his attempt to address the elephant in the room with grace. Gail figured he did this often to make the other person feel comfortable. "Don't worry Miles we'll get her fighting fit as soon as possible and then she can finish the job."
She brought the cat into the vets office and left Miles and Mr Tillerson to wrestle the stray. As she closed the door Miles turned and gave her a small nod in thanks, ducking his head just enough for the flailing paw of the unruly patient to swipe his chin.
------------------------
Gail sat back at her desk, book lazily hanging from her hand as it went unread. The clamour of trays and utensils crashed to the floor disturbing her peace, the carcophany only drowned out by the screaming match between the cat and Mr Tillerson. Soft coos eventually calmed the both of them as Miles settled his "little sweetheart" long enough that she could be sedated.
So that was the man everyone had talked about when she first arrived five years ago. He had just left then but that hadn't stopped everyone talking about the pride of the town like he'd single handedly won the war. She couldn't help the twinge of jealousy, even his shadow shone brighter than she did here.
Gail had always wanted to go to New York as soon as she had escaped home. And at twenty two years old she scraped enough money so go all of two towns closer. But hey. She'd gotten further than the last five generations of her family. As small as Kalida was it was still bigger than her hometown of farmsteads and the same two bars selling the same two brands of beer that served as the towns nightlife.
For all of one year she was content enough, she had a small circle of friends, a flat, a stable job as a secretary for the town doctor and the local lakes on her doorstep. Sure there wasn't the Metropolitan but there was a decently stocked library, a drive in theatre and a minor League baseball team the town over that she never missed.
But she hadn't got far enough to escape her past and now she needed out.
And here was the man who had and found the outside world wanting. The all American hero in the all American town with his buttoned up shirt, hazel curled hair and the crucifix shining around his neck. He seemed nice but he'd be just like the rest in the end, and you know what? Good for him. What did she care. A town like this would always bend backwards for people like him.
The door opened and Miles came out with the same damp clothes but fresh towels for the cat as it slept soundly in his arms. Mr Tillerson followed behind, "Okay Miles, we'll see you next week for her check up and make sure she takes these tablets every day. Gail, here's the bill for Miles. Once he's paid you head off and I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for all your hard work today."
Bullshit, she thought as she hid her book under the desk. But as ever, there was no sarcasm under her bosses overwhelming positivity.
"Have a good evening, sir."
Miles stood in front of the desk with the cash in his hand. His eyes locked in on Gail in a way that made her squirm, studying her throughout her goodbyes. What the fuck's your problem?
Miles eyes grew wide, mouth agape in horror.
Shitshitshitshit had she said that out loud?
"I-I-Im so so sorry I didn't mean to-"
"-No I'm sorry I don't- I don't know where that came from, it's been a long day."
"I deserved it it's okay-"
"No you didn't I-"
They both stopped their apologies just long enough to let the other speak but when neither did the tension disapated and Gail started to laugh. Miles looked startled before visibly relaxing. He still giggled nervously in an attempt to match her reaction, turning his face into his shoulder, hiding his wounded cheek.
"I am sorry," he mumbled. "Don't answer but it was just... I noticed you didn't seem to like your boss very much. Just wondered why and guess my face forgot it was in public. I-I didn't mean to make you u-uncomfortable." He faced her properly again and put the money down on the counter with a barely there "thank you".
Oh wow, someone's more perspective than they look. Blunt too. Huh.
She took the money and handed him the receipt. He took it gratefully and started his retreat when Gail recovered enough to clear her voice. "It's not that I don't like him."
Miles turned his head, his shoulders squared out like he was preparing himself for an onslaught. She stammered as she quickly tried to placate him like the scared animals that came through their door. Her voice mellowed, "he's the kindest man I know, even when I've given him no reason to be... He just makes it harder to leave."
He smiled sadly and nodded like he understood. But there was no way someone like him could. Miles looked like he wanted to say something else but his mouth opened around empty breaths that died in his throat. She let it go. She was tired and she wanted to go home and listen to the baseball.
"Have a good evening Miles. And be careful, black cats are bad luck."
"Bad luck for her but you're good luck for me, aren't you Bobbie?" He raised her up and nuzzled his chin against the top of her head before quickly recoiling. "Ow, got me good didn't you?" He said to himself. Gail saw him suck in his bottom lip to flex his chin to feel out the extent of the cat scratch.
"Come here a sec." He heard rather than saw the desk drawer close as she got up and walked towards him.
And then something weird happened. He froze. Did he think she was going to hit him? No, of course not. He was boyish sure, but he was a good head taller than her and even under his baggy clothes she could see the outline of his biceps. That didn't stop her instinctively slowing her steps to walk quietly as she saw his eyes scrunch close the closer she came.
He swayed just slightly as he fought to keep himself present, hearing Bobbie's weak cries for help and the fear of being shouted at for being a freak all caught up to him as the slam of the desk drawer sent him back to the El Royale. What had she picked up? A gun? Not again- And as quickly as it started to spiral, a soft touch to his chin brought him back around.
"Here, it's just a plaster." She flattened the edges, face close to his to check she had covered it all. No one had come close to touching his face since that dreaded day at the El Royale. She was... Careful with him. He braced himself for her hands to wander up his jaw to satisfy some morbid curiosity for what his scars felt like but instead her hand retracted as soon as the plaster was secure.
He all but ran out of the door leaving her stood alone in the practice. Her gaze followed him as he went out again into the rain, his hood kept down as the rain soaked his hair. Shit Gail, what did you do this time? She would have to make it up to him. The sign of Mr Tillerson stared back at her.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Chapter 2
Miles sat by himself in the corner of Wabang's number one and only dive bar, a cold glass of whisky kept his hands busy as the melting ice refilled the glass quicker than he was drinking it. The sound of chatter and music drowned out the thoughts he'd driven all the way down the highway to escape from, the hum of the engine a barrier from the terrifying silence of his home.
Even the air felt sticky here, the years of stale beer defying science and congealing into every nook and cranny. Miles didn't recognise the music playing over the speakers. Nearly all of his cultural touchstones stopped the day he was shipped to war. If Wabang was stuck in the past compared to the rest of the world, then what did that say about him that the music here felt too modern for his tastes? He felt like one of characters from a B sci-fi movie that he used to love, stuck in a time he wasn't built for. Now those films felt too quaint to hold his attention. He missed them. Missed the person he was that could enjoy them.
The sleeves of his cardigan cocooned him from the draft of the window. The table was decidedly less comfortable than ones on the otherside of the bar but this corner let him keep the scared side of his face under shadow. The only way this night could get any worse was if a drunk came up to him demanding to know what had happened.
Miles had given up people watching. It felt too painful seeing all these folks hang out together without a care in the world. Like the earth wasn't rotten to the core. Like they could get drunk and drive home safely, trust each other not to take advantage and do it all again the next day and expect the same safety again and again. Maybe there was someone behind the mirrors here watching them, waiting for their moment of weakness. So naive, so stupid.
He worried the ends of his crucifix, trying to drive the thoughts away. He wouldn't be like his father.
"Hey, is this seat taken?"
Miles looked up slowly like he was coming out of a deep sleep. Above him stood the receptionist at Bobbie's vet. She looked... Radiant. Maybe it was the sips of whisky talking and he had lost his tolerance or the oppressive bar made everyone look like an angel sent to the depths of hell to rescue it's most loathsome inhabitants.
"Um... Umm ah yeah, yeah of c-course". Even in his stunned state he remembered his manners and stood as she sat down with her beer.
"Didn't have you pegged for a place like this Miles". She pretended not to notice the way his eyes glazed over at her choice of words. Work was boring sure, but teasing Miles these last few weeks had become her new favourite sport.
"O-oh no I guess not. Could say the same-um...". He fussed with the sleeves of his cardigan again looking decidedly uncomfortable as he dropped what he was saying. She wanted to smile at his discomfort but for once that wasn't why she approached him.
"Ha, it's okay. This is exactly my kind of place, you can say it". It was unfair how easy he made it to tease him when she was trying to be nice.
"I... Didn't want to come across as rude. There's nothing wrong w-with that."
"Not rude, just honest. You... Aren't like most people around here. You don't say just what people want to hear, even though I think you'd rather just not say anything at all".
He smiled his small impish grin that she had come to appreciate when he came to his appointments for Bobbie. A genuine small, a small trophy she had to win from him.
She kept waiting for the shoe to drop as he turned on her like most of the town did, but he hadn't. He gave her the same polite greeting every time he visited and as he went to leave he lingered longer than she would let anyone else do for casual conversation. Their chats always ended awkwardly however as Miles seemed to hesitate to leave like there was something else he always wanted to say but couldn't. But then again, maybe she was projecting as that was certainly her reason. She couldn't deny it anymore, she wanted to know more about him. No, what she wanted was for him to finally disappoint her so she could move on. She wanted to ask why he came back, what had happened to cause him to look so sad when he thought no one was watching. Why had he froze when she came towards him that first day?
"I try to be honest... Had bad experiences not being. But im sure you notice I'm not the best at not putting my f-foot in it."
"About that.." she murmured as encircled the rim of her beer bottle with her nail, talking to it rather than him. It made Miles feel strange seeing her become the uncomfortable one. "I actually came over the apologise-".
"-y-you don't have to-"
"-Yes I do", she had solemnly. He knew better than to argue. "I shouldn't have shouted at you that first time. And... You looked uncomfortable when I put the plaster on but I didn't know what to do so I panicked and kept going and I shouldn't have done. So I'm sorry. And... I'm sorry this sorry has taken so long."
"W-we do a lot of apologising don't we?"
"Yeah and I hate it. I've never been wrong about anything ever before so let's agree to stop being idiots before you damage my reputation for being a bitch."
She thrust out her hand for him to shake. He shook his head in disbelief and quietly laughed as he firmly took her gesture of goodwill in a warm embrace.
"Miles Miller," he said, "sorry about everything all of the time so let's leave the apologies implied."
"Gail Peters, never wrong about anything ever so no apologies needed."
"The ho-honour is all mine."
They let go, the surrounding bar long forgotten in their bubble they'd made between them.
"By the way, I don't think you're a b-bi-... You know what, if that means anything".
His admission shouldn't have made her heart skip a beat. His boyish looks came through all the more the more sincere he became, like he was shedding whatever experiences had tried to whether him down. She wondered if he did this for anyone else as often as he did for her.
"It...", she sighed, "Does, actually." As cute as vulnerability was on him, didn't mean she had to like it on her. "Doubt you'd find many people who'd agree with you."
"-Why?" He countered quickly. Well, well it's not just me who has questions.
"No one tell you about me?"
"Honestly I've not heard anyone but Mr Tillerson speak of you- sorry no that came out wrong, shit- sorry um."
She kicked his foot under the table. "Miles Miller you didn't even last a minute."
"I know! I know! Im-... Implying you know what right now", he laughed.
Mischief sparkled in her eyes. Gail leaned forward on her elbows, and gave him her best come hither finger. He leaned forward but maintained a polite distance. Rolling her eyes she used that finger to hook into the collar of his shirt. She wanted to tug him forward but that voice of caution that she heard only on birthdays and major holidays stopped her. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable again but to her surprise he swallowed once. Hard. And then leaned in further without encouragement.
Giddy, she whispered, "Tell you what, I'll forgive you and answer your question if my good little Catholic boy swears again".
Oh god this wasn't something he needed to learn about himself. "-Fuck."
He hadn't even realised he said it until Gail pulled back and cackled like a banshee in triumph. Their neighbours turned to give them the hard stare but only Miles was affected as Gail came down from her high, slapping her hand over her mouth the stifle the giggles. God, he wanted to hear that again.
"Touche Miles, you know how to give a girl what she wants and then some.'
He was still halfway across the table by the time she halooked hesitant. He stole a glance at the woman before him before retreating his gaze to the safety of bins. Breathe Miles. First steps. 1...2...3...
"That depends... W-were you successful?"
"What do you mean?"
He fully turned to her now, his pinky finger latching onto hers. Be brave. "You said you were out here trying to find a date?... D-did you?"
She stared at him dumbstruck. Is this what she had hoped for all evening and danced around? The All-American boy going out with the town washout? He belonged to another world than her... Didn't he? She wasn't so sure anymore. Last night he had spoken about the town in way she did under her breath every time she was shunned from the community. And he saw right through the righteous facade despite him having everything to gain from it. Maybe...
Maybe he wouldn't let her down.
"Well that also depends, does what I told you last night bother you?"
"What they did bothers me, but no. Not you. Never you. You don't. I-I... It's not my scene but I don't judge those that do."
She pointed at his crucifix around his neck, "Sure, but doesn't he?" Miles shrugged.
"I've learnt he's got bigger concerns... You don't mind about my... thing?"
"No." Short and simple. That's all the was to it for her. "But, you know if you're seen out with me your stocks will plummet faster than the great depression right? I can't even say mine will go up, they'll probably think I corrupted you."
He laughed at that but she couldn't put a finger as to why.
"F-fine with me, losing my share in the town's gossip column sounds like a win on it's own, not to mention the date with the smartest, kindest, most beautiful woman I know."
"Well Mr Miller, with an offer like that how can I refuse?"
"Well you always can, if you want to. Id never want you feel obligated. I'm... I'll need to take it slow but I want to see where this can go if you do".
She nodded vigorously, "Of course. There's a double bill at the drive in of sci-fi movies on Thursday. Fancy it? Obligation free and we can figure out after if you're a diner man afterall. Oh and bring Bobbie, this is all secretly a ploy to hang out with your cat"
"That... actually sounds perfect."
"Great!" She clapped her hands together. "Now!" She announced as she clamoured to stand, joints creeping from being sat on the concrete for hours, "please tell me you can drive home as I'm still a wee bit drunk".
Miles let Gail lift him up off the floor but his legs were still jelly from dehydration and exhaustion. "I-Im sorry I don't think I'm up to much right now." The shame of being so useless after she had so kindly accepted an invitation for a date threatened his fragile semblance of control but Gail propped him against her and started towards the payphone.
"That's okay! Mr Tillerson will pick us up, he's... Kinda cool like that."
"He'd do that? Heh, You really need to treat him better."
"Yeah yeah, not the first date he's picked me up from a dumpster and play your cards right and it won't be the last."
But the innuendo was lost on Miles as he basked in his thoughts. They didn't scare him right now. The chorus line of the voices of the dead slept as he planned the date in his mind.
Sci-fi movies huh? Maybe I can be that person again.
Summary: You'd promised Bob during your escapade at the pumpkin patch that you'd let him fill you up. And Bob was going to hold you to that promise. (Sequel to Dark Maze but can be read as a particularly filthy standalone.)
Tags/Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY, tantric sex, cumplay (kinda), p in v unprotected, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, squirting, a little cockwarming, fluff at the end, surprise love confessions
A/N: Even as I was finishing up Dark Maze, this was rolling around in my head, begging for me to write it instead of finishing the original story. I even told myself I wasn't going to write for a little bit to give myself a break, but this little sequel wouldn't leave me alone. And I got it done before the end of October (in my timezone at least)!
Now here's hoping some other smutty idea hits me over the head and takes me away from the never-ending Bucky enemies-to-lovers fic that won't leave me alone.
"One more. You can give me one more, right, baby?" Bob cooed into your ear.
You were flat on your back, Bob's weight on top of you both grounding and pinning you down. Your legs were wrapped tight around his waist, and he had one hand on your ass to coax you impossibly closer to him with each grind of his hips, the other shoved between your bodies, lazily rubbing your clit. It must have been an awkward angle, but your mind was too busy floating in a haze of pleasure to think about the logistics. Your whole being was awash in sensation - the heaviness of Bob's body on your chest, the soreness creeping its way into your limbs, the almost overwhelming pulses of pleasure between your legs, and, above all, how impossibly full you felt.
You'd lost track of how many times you'd cum; Bob'd been begging for one last one for what felt like hours as he alternated between desperate, sloppy thrusts and grinding his hips into you so deep that you swore you could feel him in your stomach. Every movement caused more of his spend to stream out as he fucked his cum into you, the lewd squelches echoing off the walls of your bedroom along with the slap of skin on skin. All the while, Bob was alternating praises and pleas in your ear, his desperation only growing with time.
You smoothed his wild hair away from his face, cupping his jaw with your hands and lifting Bob's head to face you. He was breathtaking - eyes glassy with blind pleasure, lips bitten red and slick with spit, cheeks flushed from the heat of your bodies and his exertion, sweat beading on his forehead. You wiped the droplets away, and he closed his eyes with a shudder at your gentle touch. Though he was the one pinning you down, coaxing seemingly unending orgasms out of you, you both knew he wasn't the one in charge, just the willing instrument of your pleasure.
"Need you to cum again, angel," Bob practically slurred, gazing down at you with a blissed out worshipfulness that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. You loved him like this. He was pure, raw devotion and adoration made flesh. All of the anxiety and worries of the outside world and even the ones that plagued his mind were stripped away, leaving nothing but the here and now of your bodies pressed together. It was primal, and his desperation was palpable. You felt it in your chest as surely as he did.
Your fingers curled in his hair, lightly tugging enough to make his hips stutter, both of you gasping. You wanted to speak, but words evaded you. They felt too heavy on your lips, so you squeezed, tightening around his thick length inside of you. Bob's lashes fluttered as he let out a groan, hips twitching forward, somehow even deeper.
"You want more, baby? Need me to cum inside you again?" You whimpered in response, hands moving down and letting your nails dig into the muscles of Bob's back. "I'll fill you up. Give you more. I'll keep you so full."
Leaning down, Bob captured your lips, drinking in your cries as he snapped his hips forward, starting to fuck you in earnest again. Somehow you were still so sensitive, every movement - each rubbed circle on your clit, each time the fat head of his cock rammed into your G-spot, each clench of your walls around his thick length, each slide of Bob's tongue against yours - sent little jolts of electricity through you. Your legs twitched, squirming under the assault on your body, both trying to pull away from the sensations that were just the right side of too much and trying to press harder against him, greedy for more.
Somehow Bob understood. He always did. When he finally broke the kiss, Bob rested his forehead on yours, panting lightly. "I know it's a lot, angel. You're taking me so good. So fucking good. And still so fucking tight for me." He groaned, eyelids fluttering as you clenched around him again at his words, your cunt gripping him tight. "Fuck, baby, you feel amazing. Don't worry, I'll take care of you."
Bob leaned back just a little, and you let out a pathetic whine at the new distance between your bodies. "It's okay, baby. I'm going to make you feel so good," he murmured as he easily manhandled you into the position he wanted, pressing on the backs of your thighs to lift your legs higher. The next thrust went impossibly deep, and you shuddered, a mix between a sob and a gasp catching in your throat. Bob's eyes lit up like your reaction was the best praise he could ever get, and he wasted no time pressing his body flush against yours, peppering every inch of skin he could reach with kisses.
He babbled as he fucked you, telling you how beautiful you looked under him, how incredible you felt around him, and promising to take care of you, to make you cum. You loved when he got like this, when words flowed out of him like water, the filter between his brain and his mouth obliterated by pleasure. His voice washed over you, working in tandem with his cock and his hand and his mouth pushing you higher and higher, each word, each thrust, each stroke, each kiss nudging you closer to the precipice of your release.
When you were on the edge, Bob could sense it. He pulled back just enough to look at your face, absorbing every detail, drinking you in like your impending orgasm was his own and he needed to see you fall apart before he could.
"That's it, that's it," he murmured, picking up speed as you hurtled towards your release, hips slamming into you and shoving both of you farther up the bed, his hand practically vibrating against your clit. The pressure inside of you was building so high, it felt like you were going to explode. "Need to feel it. Need you to cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock."
You wailed as you came, gushing your release around Bob's cock, soaking both of you in your cum. Pleasure washed over you in thrumming waves, your body shaking with it.
"Oh, fuck!" Bob cried out, his hips stuttering as he fucked you through your release, only removing his hand from your clit when your whole body started twitching with overstimulation. "God, you're so fucking beautiful. I love you so much." Only a few more thrusts, and Bob followed you over the edge, sobbing your name as he shot rope after hot rope inside of you, practically collapsing on top of you.
You both lay there, gasping and panting desperately for air. For a minute, your vision whited out, your whole body feeling weightless even with Bob's full weight holding you down. Your throat was raw and scratchy, your face wet with drool and tears, your body absolutely spent. You should be completely fucked out, floating on pure pleasure, unable to even put two words together, but your mind echoed with Bob's words - "I love you so much."
Sure, he'd said it before. But it was never serious. He'd said it jokingly - after you'd defended his love of pineapple on pizza to a disgusted Walker who claimed it was sacrilege. He'd said it in relief - when you'd saved him a seat next to you in the debriefing room when he was running late. He'd said it in gratitude - when you'd get an extra order of fries for him after he claimed he didn't want any food because you knew he'd get hungry after he smelled yours. He'd even mumbled it while cumming before, but it was always bitten back or growled out like he couldn't help himself. You'd always told yourself it was just because he felt so good and that he didn't mean it, because he never brought it up after.
You'd been so careful not to say it even in jest. If those words left your lips, you couldn't play them off as a joke or an exaggeration or even a moment of passion, because you meant them with every fiber of your being. You loved Bob Reynolds, and you had no idea if he felt the same way.
After a few minutes, Bob shifted himself off of you, careful to keep your bodies connected, skin to sweaty skin. He lazily brushed the trails of tears away from your eyes, wiping your chin, and placing small kisses everywhere he touched. When he tried to pull away to go get something to clean you off, you protested, clinging to him, not even allowing his quickly softening cock to pull out of you. You craved the fullness of him just as much as he had needed to give it to you.
You did allow Bob enough distance to grab a blanket, draping it over the both of you as you laid side by side, your head tucked under Bob's chin, resting against his chest. It was always soothing to sleep next to him even in the coldest rooms; he really did radiate heat. Lying pressed against Bob was like lying in the sun on an early summer day, when the heat caressed your skin, warming you from the inside out.
Even with your head full of his words, it didn't take long for you to start drifting off. You were bone-deep exhausted, completely worn out from a day of exploring a pumpkin patch and a long night of passion. But you were awake enough to hear when Bob whispered into your hair the same words that were rattling around in your brain.
"I love you."
Slowly, you leaned back, looking Bob in the eye. He looked bashful, sheepish like he had at least partially thought you were asleep but pleased like he'd hoped you weren't.
"You mean that?" you whispered. Your hand moved up, cupping Bob's cheek. His own hand moved to rest on top of yours, cradling it. His eyes gazed into yours, the deep blue looking almost black in the dark.
"I do," Bob whispered back, before anxiously adding, "If…if that's okay with you."
You bit your lip, nodding up at him. His shoulders relaxed.
"You don't have to say anything back," he started. "I just wanted to tell you how I -"
"I love you too, Bob," you said with a smile. It felt natural on your lips, like it was a universal truth you'd always known. To know Bob was to love him. And, over the last half a year, you'd gotten to know Bob very well.
"You mean that?" Bob echoed your words, but the lovesick smile on his face made it clear he just wanted to hear you say it again. So you indulged him, just like you always did.
"I do. I love you, Robert Reynolds."
And he repeated the words back to you before capturing your lips in a slow, sleepy kiss.
Divider Credit -> @/strangergraphics
Images in header are not mine
Cross-posted to AO3
Hope you liked it! Feel free to like, reblog, or comment!
Please do not repost or reproduce in any way. You do not have my permission to use this for AI scraping.
Summary: You love going to pumpkin patches. Bob couldn't care less about them. But he loves being with you, so he willingly goes with you and the rest of the Thunderbolts to one without complaint. He's so good, in fact, that you take the opportunity away from any prying eyes to reward him (and yourself a little bit too, let's be honest here).
Tags/Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY, fluff, pumpkin patches, clingy Bob, semi-public sex, dry humping, usage of the term 'good boy,' dirty talk, LOTS of dirty talk holy shit, a ton of whining and whimpering as well, praise kink, possessive reader, sub!Bob, dom!Reader, switch!Bob, switch!Reader, biting, handjob, masturbation (f), oral (m receiving), hair pulling, mention of p in v, cum play/breeding if you squint, fingering (f receiving)
Reader: Member of the Thunderbolts/New Avengers. Loves/has gone to pumpkin patches before. Described as a loner. Likes dark mazes/being in the dark without fear. Not a fan of crowds.
Sequel: Full Up
You weren't sure whose idea it was to go on a team bonding trip to a pumpkin patch, but it was a damn good one. Even though you'd had to wake up at what Walker deemed was the "asscrack of dawn" to get there right as the place opened, it was worth the effort.
Bob, however, couldn't disagree more. He was already a night owl on the best of days, but last night had been rough. No matter how much he tossed and turned, sleep seemed to have evaded him. He caught a few hours of rest before you had to shake him awake and drag him out of bed. You'd suggested he stay back and get some rest, even offering to stay with him even though you'd been so excited to go to the pumpkin patch. But he'd stubbornly refused, even resisting your tempting reminder that you'd be alone together in the Tower.
So Bob trudged along behind you, one hand clamped around a steaming paper cup of over-priced coffee and the other tucked into your back pocket. He'd been that way all day - within arm's reach of you at all times with a tired look on his face that plainly said "I'm not here of my own volition but I'm dealing with it." Every time you met his eyes though, his expression would soften. It was like he melted a little bit at the sight of you, a small, lovesick smile that he couldn't hold back slipping out for everyone to see.
The weather was perfect, the air brisk without being frigid. Smells of fried foods from the main shop area and the camphorous, almost minty evergreens from the fenced off Christmas tree section filled your lungs with each inhale. It was still fairly early in the morning on a week day, so there weren't many kids running about, but you could hear the ones who were laughing and chattering as they zoomed around. Multicolored leaves crunched under your boots as you both leisurely wandered around the grounds.
Somewhere along the way, you'd slowly gotten separated from everyone else. Yelena dragged Ava to the petting zoos as soon as she saw some newly-hatched chicks in a popcorn cart that was converted into a chicken warmer. You lost sight of Alexei somewhere around the corn maze, so he was most likely either stuck in it or had found an audience to entertain/unwitting civilian to annoy. The last time you saw Walker, he was headed to the food stalls for some early lunch, muttering something about barbecue. And Bucky? No clue where he snuck off to. One minute he was there, the next gone. So it was just you and Bob checking out all the smaller attractions since you'd already hit the bigger ones.
You mentally checked off the things you'd already done as you walked by them: haysack slides? Check. Duck races? Check. Silly photo ops? Check. You'd even ridden a few small fair rides that they had on the grounds, including a little pirate ship that swung back and forth and a spinning ride called "The Cornado." You'd picked a bushel of apples and a wheelbarrow full of various pumpkins for the Tower, all of which were taken to the front for easy pick up when leaving. The only thing you could think of that was left was the mercantile store, but you'd wanted to save that for last to keep the fresh pressed cider and the frozen pies you'd eyed earlier cold on the drive back.
The disappointment that the trip was coming to an end must have showed on your face, because Bob seemed to notice. The hand that was in your back pocket moved up to your hip as Bob wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you hip to hip with him. Kissing the top of your head, Bob murmured into your hair, "You okay?"
"Mmm hmm," you confirmed, both of you slowly coming to a stop. That suited Bob just fine. He maneuvered you closer, pulling you in front of him so he could wrap both arms around you tightly. Automatically, you leaned your head against his chest, soaking in the warmth of him snuggled up close to you. "I think we've run out of things to do, though," you said with a hint of regret in your voice.
Bob frowned, starting to carefully examine the various attractions around you. "That can't be right," he murmured. "We've only been here for a few hours."
"Yeah," you said sadly, "That's about how long it takes to experience one of these." It always amazed you the little things you took for granted that Bob just never got to experience. You had always done things like this - gone to pumpkin patches, picked apples, went to haunted corn mazes, took long car trips to admire the changing autumnal landscape. But all of this was new to Bob. He grew up in the middle of Florida where the fall months meant slightly less hot weather but that was about it. Pumpkins weren't something to be found at farms but passed by untouched in grocery stores. Same with apples. There were haunted houses, sure, but Bob's anxiety kept him away from them in fear of getting mocked for being afraid or lashing out at a scare actor. And palm trees didn't exactly change colors with the seasons. You wanted his first real autumn to be fun, to be special. But here you were at the end of the trip, and it didn't seem to matter how many apple cider doughnuts he ate or silly rides he went on, Bob's only enjoyment seemed to be in watching you.
The thought made your chest feel warm. Your relationship was still fairly new, a little under six months. You'd always hovered around each other, ever since The Void Incident, as the team had dubbed it. You were both slow to trust but couldn't stay out of each other's orbits. Despite both of you being loners by nature, you and Bob kept finding excuses to be near each other and, eventually, to touch each other. You were usually standoffish at best, so the idea of someone you'd only known for a few months putting his hand on your arm as you spoke or cuddling up next to you on the couch during movie night sounded absurd. But with Bob, it was different. He always felt right. And it still felt that way, his arms wrapped around you, engulfing you in his natural warmth to ward off the crisp autumnal air.
You don't know how long you two stood there, but finally Bob spoke up. "I don't remember going to that barn." He pointed towards the far end of the property, at an old, faded red barn that you'd somehow managed to overlook. It must have just seemed like background setting to you, a part of the farm that was seen and not experienced. But even from here, you could see a sign on the outside even though you couldn't quite make out the words.
You smiled up at Bob. "I don't think we have. Good eyes," you remarked. Pink crept up Bob's neck at your compliment, threatening to flood his cheeks with more color than the brisk breeze had already brought out. It made you smile even wider. Craning your head back, you stretched up to give your boyfriend a kiss. He froze at first, startled like he always was when you showed him affection unexpectedly. But he quickly melted into you, letting out a pleased hum against your lips. You both stayed that way for a few moments, just savoring the feeling of being connected, of sharing warmth between you both metaphorically and physically. That is until you heard some children in passing groaning in disgust at the two adults kissing. You broke apart with laughter, both chuckling in amusement and a little self-consciousness. You smiled apologetically at the parents who were shushing said children, but they smiled back in a way that told you they understood exactly how you were feeling.
Bob cleared his throat. "So, wanna go check out the mystery barn?" He pulled back reluctantly, linking your hands together. You nodded in agreement, and the two of you set out across the lawn.
As you got closer, you could make out the words "Dark Maze" in orange lettering lined in black. From the corner of your eye, you could see Bob's confusion as he furrowed his brow.
"What's a dark maze?" he asked between sips of coffee.
"What it says on the box - a maze in the dark." Bob shot you a slightly annoyed look, and you laughed, tipping your head back in amusement. He tried to hide the smile tugging at the corner of his lips by draining the last of his drink, but you saw it anyway. He tossed the empty paper cup in a trash can as you walked. "It's a hay maze in a barn. They block out all the light so that you have to feel around to get out."
Bob wrinkled his nose at the idea, clearly not a fan. "What?" you asked, poking at his side with your index finger.
"Ow," Bob muttered under his breath, rubbing his ribs with his now-free hand.
"Oh, you big baby," you cooed at him, dodging his playful swat at you. "Want me to kiss it better?"
"Maybe later," Bob admitted with a small, boyish smile. He pulled you back even closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist again. It made walking a little difficult, but it was worth the effort. "So, you like dark mazes?" he prompted.
"Yes," you said decisively, nodding your head. "It adds some challenge. Like with the corn maze? You could see where the footsteps were heaviest, so it was pretty easy to see which trail was the right one. But you can't see anything in a dark maze."
"Sounds kinda…spooky."
"It could be," you conceded. "Like a haunted corn maze. But most of them are just hay bales in a barn. Not to mention, if you get too claustrophobic, there's an easy way to fix that." Reaching into your pocket, you grabbed your cellphone, easily turning on the flashlight and beaming it ahead of you. Bob nodded in agreement but stayed quiet as you put your phone back and for the rest of the admittedly short trek to the barn.
It was exactly like you expected it - an old but sturdy barn smudged with rust-red paint that hadn't been touched up in years, flaking away in some places to expose the faded browns of the wood beneath it. Fresh hay bales blocked the opening, that grassy, slightly sweet smell hitting your nose even before you had fully walked up to it. As you stepped closer, you got more of that old wood scent that always seemed to linger in barns like this, along with the faint echo of cigarette smoke, like someone had snuck off to light up away from the main crowd of people. There were two gaps in the hay marking the twin entrances into the maze itself. The light penetrated enough for you to see the first turn in one of them, but shadows quickly ate up the rest of the path.
Turning to Bob, you immediately clocked his unease. He was shifting from side to side, shoulder rhythmically brushing yours as he very slightly rocked his body back and forth - a stim you'd noticed he did both to occupy himself when bored or soothe himself when mildly anxious. There was no doubt in your mind it was the latter. His free hand was gripping the edge of his sweater, worrying the material between his index finger and thumb. You suspected he would probably be twisting the fingers of both of his hands together if one wasn't resting on your hip, thumbing the belt loop there.
"Hey," you said, tone gentle but careful to keep it light. "You know, we don't have to do this."
Bob had been staring straight ahead at the entrance to the maze, but, at your words, he whipped his head to look at you. It would've been comical if not for the genuine concern in his eyes. Your fingers itched to smooth the little crease between his eyebrows, but you held yourself back, not wanting to push too far. For Bob, there was a line between compassion and condescension. He generally loved and appreciated being comforted when he was having a rough time, but he loathed being talked down to or treated in a way that made him feel like he was incompetent. The line could be a little vague at times, something Bob was deeply apologetic for and you tried your best to be respectful and patient about.
"But you want to," Bob said simply, his words lilting up at the end, almost like it was a question.
You wrapped your arm around his waist, mirroring how he held you, and gave him a little squeeze. "Honestly, it's not that big a deal. I didn't realize this place even had a dark maze. I wouldn't be heartbroken if we skipped it."
"I don't want you to miss out on something because of me," Bob confessed. You couldn't help but smile.
"You didn't want to do any of this," you said. Bob opened his mouth to protest, but you shook your head to stop him. "You're happy to do this, because I want to do this. And that's because you're a sweetheart and a good boyfriend."
Bob ducked his head bashfully. He shrugged like it was nothing. "I'm happy when you're happy," he mumbled.
You squeezed his waist again, resting your head on his shoulder (or at least as much as you could due to the height difference). "See? Good boyfriend. So if I miss out on one small attraction, it's not the end of the world."
"You were so disappointed when you realized we'd done everything," Bob protested, a little whine in his voice.
"And I'll be disappointed again after this," you said with a laugh. "It's like when you've opened your Christmas presents. The end happens eventually." At his continued hesitation, you added, "I can always go alone."
His body tensed instantly. That was the exact wrong thing to say. Bob Reynolds was a stage five clinger.
At first, he wasn't the most physically affectionate. Back when you were just friends, he'd freeze at most touches, even if you had explicitly asked and gained his permission. Part of it was lingering fear of the Void. He didn't want to drag anyone back to their worst experiences just by making the mistake of touching him. But once he realized that only happened when he was feeling intense negative emotions, Bob allowed people to touch him, even if he still flinched a little. The other part was his background. Physical contact wasn't something he typically associated with comfort. And you, being a loner for most of your life, pretty much felt the same way.
But, as soon as you both warmed up to it, you couldn't keep your hands off of each other. And that began even before you started dating. Bob would stand too close to you, and you'd lean into it. He was always making excuses to touch you - hand on your lower back or arm as he'd pass you in the hallway or in the kitchen, volunteering to be your sparring partner despite his 100% losing streak, and eventually offering for you to sleep in his bed some nights where you'd inevitably wake up to him wrapped around you. For reasons that escaped you at the time, you loved it. And it had only gotten worse after you started dating. Sometimes Bob even seemed annoyed that you had to go to the bathroom alone, something the rest of the team teased him about. So the idea of you going into the maze by yourself for five, ten, or - heaven forbid - fifteen easily avoidable minutes of isolation sounded like the pinnacle of torture to Bob.
He was shaking his head before you even finished speaking. "Absolutely not."
"No, really. We don't have to…" you started, but Bob was already tugging you towards one of the openings.
"I'll be fine just as long as I can hold onto you," he insisted, pausing as you reached the entrance. Bob firmly took your hand in his and gestured for you to go in front of him, letting you lead the way.
Judging from the set of his jaw and the determined look in his eyes, you knew there was no talking him out of it. "Okay," you conceded, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. "If you get claustrophobic, let me know. I'll turn on the flashlight."
Bob nodded his consent. "I'll use my safeword, I promise."
You beamed up at him. "That's all I ask. Well, let's head in!" You tugged on Bob's hand to come with you. He paused for just a second, closing his eyes and taking in a deep, calming breath through his nose, letting it out through his mouth. When he opened his eyes and met yours with a smile, you both knew he was ready.
The maze turned dark almost immediately. One second you were turning the corner, the next it was pitch black. You put your free hand out in front of you, finding the hay wall and starting to follow it. A few steps in, and it felt like you were in a whole other world. The sounds of the pumpkin patch fell away, leaving only the faint crunch of hay under your feet as you moved forward.
It somehow made everything feel much smaller, like you hadn't stepped foot in a large barn but into a small, enclosed room. While you could understand how some people could feel claustrophobic here, the sensation made your shoulders droop, relaxing muscles you didn't even realize were tensed. Even though there weren't many people at the pumpkin patch, being out in public was always a little draining. It was worth the effort to do something fun, but a place like this just felt like relief.
Until you ran face first into the hay wall.
Sputtering, you brushed the straw away from your face as you started to back up. Right into Bob.
You let out an undignified squeak as your back met his chest. It was like backing into a brick wall. Well…if a brick wall was warm and wrapped in a soft sweater. So basically a comfortable brick wall.
You felt his hands move to your hips, grabbing them to steady you. Heat radiated from them even through your jeans. Bob always ran hot, so he practically exuded warmth, like your own personal heater. If you stood like this for long enough, you knew you'd feel it through your jacket too. And, just being this close to him in utter darkness, you could feel another type of heat somewhere he wasn't touching. Part of you desperately wished he was.
"Sorry," Bob murmured. You successfully fought the urge to squeeze your thighs together but were unable to hold back a small shiver when his hot breath caressed your ear, a sharp contrast to the brisk autumn air, sending goosebumps down your arms. Bob gave your hips a gentle squeeze seemingly not in a hurry to move. "You okay, angel?"
Not if he kept touching you, you wouldn't be. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" you said with a laugh that was much huskier than you meant for it to be.
"I'm doing all right. This isn't as bad as I expected." Bob admitted. "It's kind of nice." He wrapped his arms around you from behind, sliding his hands along your ribs, enfolding you in his warmth. Bob's hugs were like stepping into a bubble bath after a long day or slipping under a cozy blanket on a cold night - warm, comforting…and something you preferred to be naked while enjoying. "Cold? I felt you shiver."
Honestly, it was a little pathetic just how quickly you were getting worked up. Bob had just barely touched you and it was through multiple layers of clothing, and you were already wet. But it was more than that. It was Bob himself. He was exhausted, that much was clear. From the dark circles under his eyes, to the way he'd slept soundly in the car with you in his arms, to the sheer amount of coffee he sucked down in the few hours you'd all spent at the pumpkin patch, it was undeniable. But here he was, in a barn in the dark in the middle of upstate New York instead of where he wanted to be - wrapped up all warm and cozy in your bed. But he was happy, truly happy to be in either place because it was with you. And that knowledge combined with the sudden intimacy of the dark barn and his hands on you? It was enough to make you start thinking of ways to repay Bob for his kindness that wasn't for anyone's eyes to see but yours.
"Maybe a little bit cold," you admitted shakily. When did your breathing get so shallow?
"We can head back to the car and grab the blanket," Bob offered, breath still hitting the shell of your ear in hot waves that seem to course down your body. You could feel your cheeks heating up, doing your best to ignore the pulse that throbbed between your legs at the soft timbre of his voice. He was being so sweet, and here you were squirming like he was doing a striptease…a thought that definitely didn't help your current situation.
"No, I'm okay," you tell him, pausing before adding, "You keep me warm enough."
His chuckle vibrated through you, and you bit your lip, pleased that Bob couldn't see your face.
"Let's get going," you said, reluctantly stepping out of Bob's arms. You could feel him tense, as if he was going to protest and keep you there, but ultimately, he let you go. Bob fumbled for a few seconds in the dark to find your hand, but once he did, you both set off again.
You were determined to be more cautious, to go slower and take your time to avoid running into a wall again. But this maze was apparently best suited for you to use both of your hands to navigate: one to trace along the side and one in front to prevent running into things in the dark. And each time you ran into a hay bale, Bob would inevitably run into you, his body momentarily pushing yours against the straw wall. In those moments, you felt everything - his strong chest against your back, his hips against your ass, his voice murmuring apologies directly against your neck. Which inevitably led to the temptation to ask him to pin you to the wall on purpose. Or even better - to turn the tables and pin him instead.
Eventually, you had enough. You needed to fix this, or you would spontaneously combust.
"I'm stopping," you told Bob, waiting until you felt his steps falter before coming to a halt yourself. You took his hand, pulling it to your side and letting it rest on your waist. He curled his fingers, and you could feel his touch dig in lightly through your jacket.
"What are you doing?" You couldn't help but note Bob's voice was breathier than before. He almost sounded…hopeful.
"We can't keep running into things." Somehow you found his other arm in the dark and maneuvered him to where he had both hands on either side of your waist, leaving both of yours free to fully feel out the path ahead.
Bob leaned forward, pressing the front of his body against your back. Even though the barn was dead quiet, muffled by the insulating hay, Bob whispered his words directly in your ear. "I like this much better."
Your eyes fluttered shut, and you couldn't quite hold back another shiver as his breath ghosted over the back of your neck. Bob pulled you impossibly tighter against him, once again wrapping his arms around you. As his hips pressed up against you, the slight hardness there made it quickly become apparent you weren't the only one affected by his closeness. "You are cold," Bob said, his voice rumbling in his chest and vibrating through you, before he pressed a kiss to the side of your neck. His hands moved down, toying with the waistband of your jeans. "If you don't want to go back to the car, I can warm you up." His words, his closeness, his warmth, all of it washed over you.
You could picture it: Bob's hand sliding into your panties, groaning as he feels how wet you are for him. He'd press his fingers inside of you, slipping one in first, then a second before starting to pump them in and out. Maybe he'd even work his way up to three, really stretching your greedy pussy. The thought made you clench around nothing. It would be so good. He'd get you off while rubbing himself against you until he came in his pants, moaning your name. And as much as you wanted that, wanted his hands on you, his fingers inside you, his words in your ears, you couldn't allow it. Bob had done so much for you today. It was time that you did something for him. To him.
In one quick motion, you turned in his arms. Bob was temporarily stunned by the sudden movement, and he easily let you walk him backwards, slamming him into the nearest hay bale. He let out a little gasp of surprise at the contact, and you swallowed the sound, cupping his face and tilting his head to the right angle to kiss him deeper. You didn't give him any time to protest before delving your tongue in his mouth, swirling it around his. He tasted like the coffee he was drinking - overly sweet, just the way he liked it, with a hint of the warmth of cinnamon and clove from pumpkin spice flavoring. Bob responded to you instinctively, letting out a plaintive, needy whimper as he kissed you back, practically melting under your assault. His hands grasped at you, fisting one in the back of your jacket, the other gripping your ass and grinding your hips together. By the time you pulled back, Bob just laid against the wall of hay, panting to catch his breath. You didn't let up, immediately starting to press open-mouth kisses up his jawline.
"Baby," Bob breathed, his voice shaky as you nipped at the corner of his jaw right below his ear. "What are you doing?"
"Getting warmed up. Don't you remember? You offered," you answered, teasing him.
"This wasn't exactly what I had in mind," Bob admitted. He made no move to stop you as you kissed your way down his neck, tilting his head to give you better access. "But I'm not complaining," he quickly added.
You hummed against his skin in approval. "Good boy," you murmured, smiling against his skin at his sharp inhale of breath at the pet term. You slipped your hand between your bodies, cupping him, feeling him stiffening even through his jeans. Swearing softly under his breath, Bob bucked his hips against your touch. Despite the cool weather, heat coursed through you, pooling between your legs. "Mmm, is this all for me?" You squeezed his bulge through his pants, reveling in the deep groan that punched its way out of Bob's chest.
"Y-yes. Always for you," Bob whimpered. He rolled his hips against your hand, letting out a breathy grunt directly into your ear as he did. "Only for you. Yours."
His words lit a possessive fire inside you, lust sparking in your stomach. You didn't fight the urge to press your thighs together, letting out a quivering moan at the delicious friction. Bob's breath stuttered at the sound, and he started to paw at your jeans, fumbling to unbutton them. You stopped him by squeezing even harder, just enough to be slightly painful. He gasped, not quite in pain but not just arousal either. But it had the intended effect; his hands stopped.
"I didn't give you permission to take my clothes off," you growled out, giving his neck a reproachful nip of your teeth.
Bob shivered under you, a full body one that went from his head and rolled down his body. "Wha…" he started before pausing to clear his throat. "What do you…?" His words trailed off, but his intentions were clear.
You lifted your head, breathing your words directly into his ear. "Be good for me, and let me take care of you, baby."
"Y-you don't have to do that," Bob protested but couldn't hide the anticipation in his voice, the way his breath caught in his throat. Always so damn considerate.
"I want to," you murmured, kissing back down the column of his throat. His Adam's apple bobbed under your lips, breath hitching as you scraped your teeth over it. "You've been so good all day. You deserve a reward."
Dragging your lips to the side of his neck, you bit down hard enough to leave light imprints of your teeth. His head fell back against the hay bale, letting out a quivering moan, rolling his hips up against your hand.
"Shh," you shushed him, listening to his muffled whimper in response. He was definitely biting his lip to keep quiet, trying so hard to obey. Even through his jeans, you could feel his cock throb for you. "You know I love those pretty sounds you make for me, baby. But you gotta be quiet. Can you do that?" You could feel his neck shift under your lips, like he was moving his head to nod, and you found you couldn't hold back the smirk that curled your lips. "Can't see you in the dark, sugar. Gotta use your words."
"Yes, ma'am," Bob said breathlessly, instantly. Always so eager to follow directions. "I'll be good for you. So good. Just…please don't stop."
You could feel your clit pulse at his words and pressed your thighs together to relieve the ache that was quickly building, barely holding back another moan of your own. "I know you will. You're always so good for me," you praised.
With a practiced flick of your hand, you undid the button on Bob's jeans and slid down the zipper. Normally, you would tease him, draw this out by running your fingertips over his inner thighs or let your nails scratch lines down his chest to his stomach, feeling the muscles there quiver under your touch. But there was plenty of time to play when you got back to the Tower, to the privacy of your shared bed. Right now, you had to make this quick.
You slipped your hand past the waistband of his boxer briefs, wrapping around his thick length. Bob let out a muffled cry at the contact and thrust his hips instinctively, seeking the delicious friction your touch promised. You could just picture him in your mind's eye: face twisted in pleasure, those beautiful eyes screwed shut, cheeks turning pink as he held himself back, biting his lower lip hard to stifle his moans. You thumbed the sensitive head of his cock, reveling in the twitch of his hips as he fought to keep them still.
Bob was always sensitive, especially when you took charge in the bedroom. But this was something else all together. He was falling apart in record time. You kissed up to his ear again, sucking lightly on each patch of skin you encountered. Not hard enough to leave marks but enough to make Bob squirm from the suction.
"Oh, you love this, don't you?" you breathed into his ear, chuckling almost mockingly at his little whine of embarrassment. "Who would have thought my sweet Bob would love getting taken apart in some dark barn where anyone could find you. What a dirty little boy." Bob bit back a whine as you released him. Taking half a step back, you brought your hand up directly under his mouth, grazing his lower lip, palm flat. You could feel how wet his lips were from where he had just barely started to drool. Which was exactly what you were hoping for.
"Spit," you commanded. He did as he was told, spitting into your palm. You brought it back down to his cock, wrapping your fist around his silken length and stroking, his saliva lubricating the slide of your hand. Bob's resulting moan thrummed through your body, and you felt your already damp underwear starting to become almost unbearably sodden. This was supposed to be about him, about Bob, but you couldn't help yourself. Without your vision, all your other senses were enhanced. The little breathy pants and whimpers Bob fought so hard to hold back but just kept slipping out. The weight of his arousal in your grasp, hard and hot, tip wet with precum. The lewd squelching as slick hand stroked him up and down. It was almost overwhelming.
You undid the front of your jeans with your free hand, slipping under your waistband, letting your fingers slide over your slick folds. As you stroked Bob, you began circling your fingers around your clit, breath stuttering when you touched your swollen nub. Even though you couldn't see it, you could practically feel Bob's head jerk towards you, trying to find your face.
"Fuck," he swore softly. His voice was thick and delightfully husky, sending a shiver down your spine and straight to your core. He sounded so fucked out already. "Are you touching yourself, angel?"
"Yes," you breathed, matching the pace of your fingers to the strokes of your hand on Bob's cock. You bit your lip for a moment, humming with pleasure. "Couldn't help it. You feel so good. You sound so fucking good, baby."
He brought his hand up, cupping your face. For a split second, you thought he was going to press his fingers into your mouth, so you parted your lips in anticipation. Instead, Bob's lips crashed against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth like it belonged there. Your teeth clacked and noses bumped into each other, but it didn't matter. It was clumsy and awkward and so fucking good. Even though Bob had initiated the kiss, you quickly took control, pressing him back harder against the maze wall. You sucked his tongue noisily, your tongue circling the tip of his just how Bob liked when you went down on him. You found it didn't really matter that neither of you were being quiet anymore. All that mattered was your shared pleasure.
Part of you, the part that was thinking with the brain between your legs and not the one between your ears, almost wanted someone to show up, to hear Bob's whines and moans, turn on a light and see just how easily you take him apart. Possessiveness surged through your body, and your pleasure-hazy brain pictured what Bob would look like if someone discovered you now - lying flushed against the hay bale wall, lips red and kiss bitten, chin wet with your combined saliva, his deep blue eyes glazed over from pleasure. And the centerpiece would be his fat cock, the tip a dark, angry pink, glistening as you stroked him hard and fast. For a split second, you wished you had some way to mark him, to claim him as yours for everyone to see - your name tattooed on his chest, hickeys branding your mouth on him, maybe even a collar with your name on it so no one could mistake exactly who he belongs to.
The thought made your cunt pulse with arousal, flooding your fingers even further. You increased the speed of both of your hands, drinking the whimpers from Bob's mouth like they were nectar from the gods. At this point, there was no saving your underwear. It was drenched, your slick spilling over and starting to dampen your jeans. It didn't matter that you'd only been at this for a handful of minutes - you were already close. And judging from the way his balls tensed, lifting up towards his body, so was Bob.
You pulled away from his mouth, ignoring his mewl of protest, and dropped down to your knees in front of him. He whined again, but you leaned in anyway, licking your lips in anticipation. Before you could wrap your lips around him, Bob's hand slid into your hair and, fisting it, pulled. Hard. You let out a loud moan, your own hips stuttering at the sharp tug even as he pulled you away from your prize.
"No," Bob whimpered, his tone almost petulant. "Inside. Wanna cum inside you."
Your eyes rolled back at the idea, and you felt that delicious little flip of arousal in your stomach. The idea was so tempting. It would feel so fucking good. It always did. Bob was just the right thickness, filling you up so good. You'd come without touching yourself on him before, just letting the fat head of his cock ram into your G-spot over and over until you were writhing and crying his name. Your hole clenched around nothing at the thought, almost feeling the echo of his throbbing dick inside of you as your muscles tighten. But you couldn't. It was too risky. Anyone could stumble into the two of you in the dark at any moment. The longer you took, the higher the chance of it happening. And there was no telling how long it would be until your teammates started searching for you. That's all it took for your brain to start functioning again.
"No, baby. It's too risky," you cooed up at him, keeping your voice soothing. "You know how you get when you're inside me."
Bob let out a loud whine, your instructions to keep quiet pushed aside by the desperate urge to fuck his cum into you. "Please," he begged, not bothering to hide the whine in his voice.
You leaned in again, and Bob reluctantly relented, keeping his hand in your hair but not tugging you away. Stroking his length one more time, you let the drooling head of his cock trail along your plush lower lip, tracing your mouth . He let out another moan, this one loud and wanton with desire. "We gotta hurry, baby boy. Don't want anyone finding us," you cooed up at him, continuing to stroke him lightly. He let out another little noise of complaint at your words, but it was less frantic than before. "You understand that, baby? Do you wanna use your safeword?"
"No," Bob answered instantly, desperation plain in his tone. "I…I understand. Please don't stop."
"I won't stop," you said. "And when we get home, you can cum inside me. You can fill me up over and over again as many times as you want, baby. But only when we're back home in our bed."
Bob let out a plaintive whimper at your denial, but you could feel his cock twitch in your hand. He liked the idea. "Promise?" he asked imploringly, voice cracking on the word.
"I promise," you murmured, planting a soft kiss on the head of his dick. Unconsciously, you licked your lips, humming in pleasure at the familiar taste of him - salty, slightly bitter, and something just undeniably Bob. Your tongue darted out, seeking more, swirling around the tip of his cock and pressing another kiss there, this one wet and open-mouthed. Then you pulled back slightly, just enough to blow cool air on his wet skin.
Bob groaned, the sound strangled in his throat. "Fu…fuck! Fuck. Please," he pleaded, snapping his hips and letting out a whine at the friction as his cock fucked your hand. "Baby, don't tease. Please. Need you."
His sounds shot straight through you, the fingers on your neglected clit starting up again at a punishing pace. In the quiet of the maze, Bob's ragged breath and the schlick of your fingers sounded loud in your ears. You let him fuck your hand as he started to babble, so far gone that all shame had left him. "Been good for you. S'good, please," he begged. "'M a good boy, please, baby. Need you."
You took pity on him and leaned in, taking him in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, tonguing his sensitive slit, all the while drinking in all the little noises he made. Starting shallow, you fisted his length in time with your motions, running your tongue along and under the sensitive head of his prick each time you withdrew. You rubbed your clit in time with each movement, pairing your pleasure with his. With each bob of your head, you took more and more of him in. Normally, you would take your time, revel in the weight of him on your tongue, the delicious stretch of him in your mouth, but you didn't have time to wait. Someone could be along at any minute, and you had already pushed your luck as far as it could go. It didn't take long until you were able to take Bob's full length, nose pressing into the wisps of hair at the base. You breathed in, forcing your throat to relax, savoring the feeling of him pulsing inside of you as he filled you fully. His hips twitched like he wanted to thrust but was holding himself back. You pulled back from him just long enough to murmur praises up at him, your cunt leaking even more at the sound of Bob's answering moans.
It wasn't long before Bob practically started shaking - he was close. And you knew just how to send him over the edge. Reaching into his jeans, you rubbed the knuckle of your index finger against the patch of skin right behind his balls. When he let out a little gasp, you pressed up on that spot, pairing that sensation with a firm suck, your cheeks hollowing around his cock. Bob came with a strangled cry, unable to hold himself back from thrusting as he spilled inside of you, painting your mouth with his cum. You choked a little at first but forced yourself to breathe through your nose and relax, doing your best to swallow all of his release.
When Bob started swatting you away, whining from overstimulation, you gave his cock one last lick from base to the tip before tucking it back in his underwear. There was some rustling from above you, and Bob slid down on his knees beside you. You leaned in for a kiss, but Bob's hands found your shoulders, sliding one of them down to the hand that was still in your jeans, long forgotten, too distracted by Bob's orgasm to think about your own. He gripped your arm, tugging your hand free.
Before you could properly protest, Bob cut you off. "You didn't cum," he said, voice raspy and tinged with desperation, like he needed you to cum to breathe properly. Bob slipped his hand down your waistband, replacing yours that he had pulled away. He groaned at the slickness of your folds, letting his fingers circle your throbbing clit. "God, baby. You got this wet just from getting me off?"
Biting your lip, you nodded before realizing once again that he couldn't see you. "Mmm hmm," you hummed affirmatively, not trusting yourself to form words.
"Fuck, you're so perfect," Bob muttered, his other hand finding your cheek and drawing your lips to his. Just as your mouths met, Bob slid two fingers inside of you. You gasped, grasping his shoulders, nails digging into his sweater and biting into his skin. Pumping his fingers into you at a blistering pace, Bob eagerly swallowed all the little noises you made. You rolled your hips to meet the thrusts of his hand, ignoring the way your thighs started to burn from the effort. Bob curled his fingers, each surge of his hand nudging that spot inside of you that made you lose your breath, your body turning to jelly beneath his expert hands. You panted against his lips, hurtling towards the precipice of your release. All it took was one hard grind of his palm against your aching clit, and you went over the edge, crying out into his mouth as your body shuddered with release.
Bob slowed his pace but kept pumping his fingers inside you, working you through your orgasm. He murmured praises in your ear - "So good, you did so well for me, baby," "feel so perfect around me, squeezing me so good," and his favorite "thank you" which he repeated over and over again breathlessly.
Bob reluctantly pulled his fingers out of you, kissing away the little whimper you let out at the feeling. As you started to re-button your jeans, a slurping sound met your ears, followed by a muffled, throaty moan from Bob. He was sucking on his fingers, tasting you on them. Despite still coming down from your orgasm, your clit throbbed at the sound, and you bit back a pathetic little noise. As hot as it was doing this in public, you suddenly wished you were back home in your bed so Bob could put that mouth to better use.
Once you'd recovered (and after Bob had cleaned your slick off of your own fingers as well, not helping the situation of your very ruined underwear), you stood up and fumbled for your phone. A few swipes and you clicked the flashlight on, wincing from the blinding light. Just as you suspected, Bob looked wrecked - hair messy like he'd just woken up, his clothes wrinkled like he'd been rolling around on the ground, and covered with more hay than could be justified by the dark maze. If the state of him wasn't enough to indicate what you'd been up to, the flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, and dazed smile would clue even the most casual onlooker in. And his fly was still down. You motioned to it and brushed him off as best you could as he fixed his jeans.
You both straightened yourselves up, Bob brushing hay off of you and sheepishly wiping away a stray droplet at had gotten in your hair while you covered up any damp spots on the ground with errant pieces of hay. One last overall check and a much-too-brief kiss, and you both headed out of the barn hand in hand. You kept the flashlight on, not bothering to feel your way through the rest of the maze.
"So, did everyone have a good time?" Bucky asked, not looking away from road as he directed the question at the rest of the group.
"Yes, dad," Ava called out with a smirk, popping another piece of kettle corn in her mouth from among the pile of rustic snacks in her lap. The outing definitely made an impact on her. You'd never seen Ava so playful before. Bucky rolled his eyes at her.
"Would be having a lot more fun if Peanut was here," Yelena grouched. She was slouched in her seat, looking at photos of the admittedly adorable baby goat that Ava and Walker had talked her out of buying/walking out with under her jacket.
"I disagree with that," Ava said. "He'd be eating all my candy. And he'd probably poo everywhere."
"And he'd be adorable doing it," Yelena grumbled.
"I had a great time! I defeated the corn maze in record time!" Alexei exclaimed, practically vibrating in his seat. He still had a few errant leaves and strands of corn silk sticking out of his jacket from where he had barreled through the maze instead of walking through the paths. "And met many nice people. Very interested to hear the stories of the Red Guardian!"
"Yes, I'm sure they didn't feel like they were being held captive by a large, loud Russian man," Yelena pointed out, not taking her eyes off her phone.
"Yes, exactly! They were captivated by stories, Lena," Alexei agreed, the point once again going completely over his head.
"Barbecue was all right," John said grudgingly, a toothpick sticking out of the side of his mouth. He lounged back in the front seat of the van, eyeing the dash like he wanted to put his boots back on it but was unwilling to risk Bucky's wrath. "Where did you disappear off to, Bucky? One minute you were there, the next I didn't see you for an hour, hour and a half."
"I was there," Bucky said flatly, his tone brooking no questions.
"I bet he tried the bouncy castle," you quipped, grinning when Bucky shot you a look in the rear view mirror.
"Or he was getting his face painted," said Yelena, finally glancing up from her phone when she sensed blood in the water. "He just washed it off before rejoining us."
"Why take all the time for face paint only to wipe off?" Alexei asked, genuinely curious. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a smudged heart on his arm with crude black and white spiders on it. "I got painting of my little malyshki!"
Despite her best efforts, Yelena didn't duck her head fast enough to avoid you seeing her fond smile.
"No, seriously," John said, his attention fully on Bucky now. "Where the hell were you?"
"None of your business, Walker," Bucky answered keeping his gaze flat as he stared at the car ahead of them.
"He was out front with a caramel apple and a pumpkin spice coffee," Ava stage-whispered back to you, making you giggle. Bucky definitely heard her, but he didn't acknowledge it. Walker had the grace to not say anything either, just glancing at Bucky with a little smile before turning to gazing out of the passenger side window.
"What about you two?" Yelena asked, turning to you and Bob, who was half-dozing on your shoulder and hogging the blanket you'd brought to share.
"I'd say we had a pretty good time. Made sure to check out all the attractions at least once," you said with a fond smile down at your sleepy boyfriend. "I love a good pumpkin patch."
When Bob didn't offer up an answer, Yelena prompted him again. "And what about you, Bob? Or were you too busy making puppy dog eyes at your girlfriend to notice we left the Tower?"
"I did things," Bob protested, the firmness of his tone betrayed by the big yawn he let out.
"Checking out your girlfriend doesn't count, Bobby," Walker called from the front. Bob narrowed his eyes, shooting a playful glare at the blond.
"I did things!" Bob said again, his voice rising in pitch a little defensively. When you glanced at him to check to see if he was actually getting upset, he caught your eye and winked. "I won at rubber ducks. The water pumping thing."
"The duck race," you added helpfully. Bob gave your arm a squeeze in thanks.
"Yeah, I won the duck race," Bob said. "But that wasn't my favorite part."
Walker groaned preemptively.
"If you say it was spending time with your girlfriend, I'm going to be sick," Ava deadpanned.
"That's a given," said Bob. "But my favorite part of the pumpkin patch itself was the dark maze." He glanced up at you, giving you an impish grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief. You took a breath, willing the heat that was rising in your cheeks to go away.
"What's a dark maze?" Ava asked. John opened his mouth to speak, but Ava cut him off. "If you just say 'it's a maze in the dark,' I'm going to phase into your room at night and shave your head."
John closed his mouth.
"It's a lot of hay bales in a barn with all the light blocked out," you answered for him. "You have to feel your way through it."
"No wonder you had good time," Alexei chimed in, wagging his eyebrows at Bob. "When girlfriend gets scared, she holds you close. Smart man, Bob!" Your eyes darted to the super soldier, but he didn't seem to be implying anything by it. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Bob's grin get even wider.
"It's not scary," you said quickly, trying to redirect the conversation. "It's just dark. It's kind of relaxing, honestly."
"It was nice," Bob said. Slipping his arm out from under the blanket, he sought out your hand, lacing your fingers together. His thumb rubbed what looked like soothing circles on the back of your hand. But you knew better.
Bucky finally spoke up again. "So, what I'm hearing is that everyone had a good time."
"Yes, dad!" Ava called out again, chucking a piece of popcorn up at Bucky. He deflected it, and it hit Walker instead, who glared at both of them with no real heat behind it.
"Yes, Bucky, we had a good time," you called. "Thank you for taking us."
"Brown-noser," Ava playfully taunted, throwing a piece of popcorn at you, which you handily caught in your mouth. She stuck out her tongue at you.
"Would've been better if Peanut was here!" Yelena pouted.
While the rest of the team kept up the banter, you turned to face Bob. He was already looking up at you, but not with adoration in his eyes but something else. Heat. Hunger. Anticipation. Bob licked his lips, and your eyes flicked down to watch the pink flash of tongue. Suddenly, you became aware of every inch of his body connecting with yours - his thigh against yours, the weight of his torso leaning into you, the warmth of his palm touching yours, and his thumb still stroking small, maddening circles on the back of your hand.
He leaned up, whispering in your ear. "I hope you haven't forgotten your promise. Because I'm holding you to it."
Promise? You didn't remember making him a promise. Your mind wandered, tracing the events of the day - the pumpkin patch, the petting zoo, the corn maze, the barn…and then it hit you.
"You can fill me up over and over again, as many times as you want, baby. But only when we're back home in our bed."
"Promise?" Bob had asked imploringly, his voice cracking on the word.
"I promise," you murmured.
Your eyes widened, and Bob smirked. He actually smirked. Your sweet, precious Bob was staring at you like he couldn't wait to eat you alive.
Something told you that, despite his lack of sleep, Bob was going to hold you to that promise all night long.
Divider Credit -> @/strangergraphics
Images in header are not mine
Cross-Posted to AO3
A/N: So, uh…yeah. Haven't written smut in…well, an embarrassingly long time. But I went to a pumpkin patch a few weeks ago, and I LOVE the dark maze there. It made me get to thinking about spending a day with Bob at the pumpkin patch and what kind of fun you could get up to with him in the dark… The perfect excuse to write Bob all subby and whiny, just the way I like him. Not insanely happy with how this turned out but proud of myself nonetheless. Enjoy!
Hope you liked it! Feel free to like, reblog, or comment!
Please do not repost or reproduce in any way. You do not have my permission to use this for AI scraping.
Summary: Things after the Void Incident are overall better for Bob Reynolds, but that doesn't mean it's any easier living in his head. A series of inconsequential events lead to an inevitable conclusion and a secret that Bob keeps from the others. Featuring the power of friendship and Alpine the cat.
Tags/Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, the Void, discussion of mental health, discussion of bipolar and depression, dissociation, depersonalization, self-isolation, negative self-thoughts, mentions of past childhood abuse, general really negative self-talk from Bob, discussion of how depression affects others, Alpine's a bit of a dick at first, protective Yelena, a little bit of Wintersentry if you squint
A/N: This fic is dedicated entirely to @theboardwalkbody. Without her, I don't think I would write Bob half as well as I do thanks to her many insights and our conversations about him. Hurt/comfort isn't my normal genre, but I tried to do this justice. If you want to read better hurt/comfort or angst for Bob, I highly recommend her fics, particularly Engravings (18+), Better Than Meth, or Another Thanksgiving. No More Secrets has such a fantastic breakdown of the kind of things Bob could've gone through in Malaysia layed out in sickening detail as well.
Bob didn't mean to leave his door open. He thought he'd closed it when he slunk back to his room, but sometimes it didn't catch if he didn't close it a certain way. He'd meant to say something about it to someone, but it felt like such a petty thing to complain about in the scheme of things. After all, he had a nice, warm place to sleep, plenty of food, and people who at least pretended to tolerate him. It was more than he'd ever had. So what did it matter if the door stuck?
He didn't even notice it was open. There was light; he knew that much. But his eyes had unfocused, and it could have come from anywhere - his laptop that was propped half-open where he'd forgotten about it on the floor, a part in his blackout curtains that shielded his room from the blinding lights of New York City, or maybe he'd just left the light on in his bathroom. It was no matter. He had curled himself up in his comforter and let the darkness inside of him take root. He was too tired to fight it.
Sometimes he wondered if Bob wasn't a real person.
He'd always considered himself Bob. Not Robert or Robby. Not Rob or Bobby. Bob. B O B. And the highs and lows were a part of Bob, one that he tried desperately to dull or smother or erase.
The person who came out the other side? The one who came down after being hypomanic, the one who had to apologize and clean up the mess? That was Bob.
The one who surfaced after weeks of depression dragging him down, the one who had to force himself to eat and shower and change his clothes? That was Bob.
But on days like this, he wondered that maybe he was the Void all along.
Maybe the thing he feared all along was the secret truth he'd also been avoiding. That Bob was just the Clark Kent to the Void's Kal-El - a mask worn to hide the true identity lurking underneath. A facade of humanity developed to set the others around him at ease. The cover he wore to seem like a regular, functioning human instead of what he really was - deeply and profoundly broken.
After all, the Void was there. It was always there, tucked away beneath Bob's skin. His proverbial Superman suit that came out in times of danger. He just didn't always get the option of ducking into a phone booth to change into his real skin. Sometimes, it just peeked through anyway.
It hadn't even been a bad day, not in the traditional sense. Sure, he'd burnt his toast in the morning and singed his finger pulling it out of the toaster. It didn't even really hurt. Just a temporary sting. Then the burn disappeared as if it was never there to begin with. Walker'd laughed at his misfortune, but there was no real malice behind it. Bob knew that.
On the surface, Bob brushed it off, flipping Walker off and stealing a piece of his bacon. But he felt the slight in his chest, like there was a knife whittling away a piece of him, leaving nothing behind but a little chunk of emptiness.
Bucky had been trying to get him to train for weeks. He reasoned that everyone on the team should be able to defend themselves in any situation. That went double for Bob, who didn't want to use his powers for fear of triggering his mania or, worse, his other side. So better to learn some basic combat skills rather than risk triggering something potentially world-threatening, right?
That was much easier said than done, especially when everyone on the team save for Yelena had super powers. And she was literally a brainwashed child assassin, so it wasn't exactly even odds. So, by the time Yelena had pinned him for the final time, the frustration in his chest had grown so steadily that Bob was almost shaking with sheer rage. Yelena didn't seem to notice. She gave him a pat on the back - a literal pat on the back like he was some kid who'd struck out in Little League instead of a grown ass man who was capable of sucking up millions if not billions of people into his own fucking pocket dimension of interconnected shame rooms. Then she told him he'd do better next time. Bob was so livid, so viscerally furious that he couldn't even fake a pleasantry, just storming out of the gym, acting like he didn't see the concerned looks his teammates shot each other.
After he cooled down, Bob spent most of the rest of the day in a daze. He'd picked up his newest book, an old, classic satire about military incompetence but, hours later, realized he'd started reading an entirely different book about a writer in a town plagued by vampires instead. Didn't even notice his bookmark wasn't in it. Just opened to a page and started reading. If you could even really call it that. Bob could barely recall anything he'd read. It was like the words floated out of his mind as soon as they entered, leaving only the vaguest recollections behind.
It was Thursday, which meant New Avengers movie night, but he'd forgotten. All the days of the week seemed to blur into each other anymore, if they'd ever particularly stood out to him at all. It took Yelena calling his phone three times before Bob even heard it ring. She'd been nearly about to barge into his room to check on him when he answered. He muttered something about losing track of time while reading, but, judging by the looks everyone gave him when he trudged out into the main living room, no one really bought that explanation.
The team had apparently squabbled about what movie to watch. At least Bob assumed so, judging by the only somewhat playful snipes Alexei and Walker kept shooting at each other. He didn't really pay much attention anyway. It was all noise and lights and movement to him. Just as long as he stared at the screen, no one would know he couldn't even begin to start concentrating on it.
When Ava leaned over and asked him if he was liking the movie, he just nodded and gave a noncommittal 'mmm' sound. It seemed to pacify her well enough, even if he didn't face her when he answered. She probably just thought he was absorbed in the action (drama? comedy?). Bob didn't see the look of concern Ava shot Bucky or notice how the older man watched him more than the actual movie. And he definitely didn't notice when Bucky left the room. Or when he came back. But Bob did notice what - or rather who - Bucky came back with.
Bucky'd brought Alpine to the Watchtower a few months ago. Bob was excited at first. He'd never really been around a lot of cats, but it was hard to not admire them. They were beautiful creatures - all sleek fur, big eyes, and graceful limbs. They could be serious or silly, temperamental or sweet, smart or dumb as a bag of rocks, but they were above all other things - mischievous, a trait Bob greatly admired in others. And Alpine was no exception.
In her first week, she'd broken a record number of things in the Tower, more than Alexei's carelessness or Bob's clumsiness had in all the previous months combined. Glasses were shattered, teammates were tripped, and all hair ties were missing, even the ones Yelena had hidden in a zipped closed backpack. Alpine calmed down after that, slowly finding her groove in this tower full of superheroes, soldiers, and assassins.
Bob had wanted to pet her right away, but Bucky advised against it. She was finicky, he'd said. She'd come to you when she wanted to. It's how Bucky had come to have her in the first place. He'd tried to get her inside at his old apartment in Brooklyn, but she resisted (or outsmarted) all his attempts, leaving nothing but tufts of fur and a lot of scratch marks in her wake. But one day, Alpine simply followed him inside. She'd just decided it was the right time and slipped past him when he opened his door, a flash of white the only thing that alerted Bucky to her presence.
And she did acclimate. Besides Bucky, Yelena was her favorite. The cat would slip into Yelena's quarters to stalk her guinea pig, Robert Jr. Unfortunately for Alpine, try as she might, she just couldn't scare little Rob into running from her. Unlike his namesake, Robert Jr. didn't give one solitary fuck. He was the most relaxed animal Bob had ever met. Either he was a genius who realized that he was safe with Yelena, or he was a complete moron with no survival instincts whatsoever. Bob secretly thought it was the latter. After all, he had to have something in common with his namesake. (Bob told that to Yelena once. She didn't think it was funny. Stared him down with her patented 'disappointed little sister' glare until Bob muttered an apology.) So when Alpine realized there was no chase to be had, she made due with following Yelena around everywhere, like a pale, fuzzy shadow. It made sense. All animals seemed to like Yelena.
It wasn't too much of a surprise when Bob saw Alpine sitting in Ava's lap. Ava was very cat-like herself: stealthy, mercurial in nature, sharp as a knife and twice as deadly. However, it was a surprise just how loudly Alpine purred. For such a quiet, (mostly) polite cat, Alpine's purr was closer to a lawnmower motor than the delicate meows she gave Bucky whenever it was feeding time. Alpine always seemed to find Ava on the days Bob would see her with bruises under her eyes, walking like she was trying her best not to limp - the heavy pain days. He'd read somewhere that cats purring helped with pain and wondered if it was true. Regardless, Ava seemed happy for the quiet company.
Alpine seemed almost amused by Alexei. Despite how bombastic and relentlessly loud he was, she never flinched from him. Maybe it had something to do with the sheer volume of toys and treats he got her. If Alpine came running by at top speed, Alexei was almost always right behind her holding some new, catnip-filled toy.
Walker had taken a while for Alpine to warm up to. The first time he tried to pet her, she hissed at him. Bucky tried to bite back his smile, secretly proud of his girl's judgment, but Bob had noticed it. Walker had grumbled that he was a dog person anyway and usually avoided crossing paths with the cat. Try as he might to seem unaffected, Bob noticed all the times he let Alpine smell his hand to see if maybe this time she'd let him pet her. He also noticed the table scraps he snuck to her, ignoring Bucky's command that Al wasn't allowed to have any human food. Eventually, his hard work and diligence paid dividends. Bob had caught them in the living room, snoozing on the recliner together. John would be dad snoring, having fallen asleep during the halftime of some game, and Alpine would be napping on his chest, occasionally giving him a little swat with her delicate pink-toed paw if his snoring got too grating.
But try as he might, Alpine just couldn't stand Bob. He did everything that he thought might work. He gave her space, and she gladly took it. But the second he'd let her smell his hand, she'd hiss at him. Bob stayed out in public areas, reading quietly, hoping she'd jump up in his lap or maybe even next to him, but it seemed like she purposefully avoided those spaces when he was there. He bought her cat toys and treats, but even her favorite catnip-infused stuffed mouse and her beloved Churu couldn't get her to come anywhere near him. And sleeping in the living room was impossible. Bob had no idea how John did it so regularly. Must have been a dad thing.
He tried his best to push down the hurt. But every time those canny blue eyes flickered past him like he wasn't even worth a sniff, it was hard not to take it personally. And, with the day he'd had, the last thing he needed was to be rejected by a dumb cat.
Bob didn't feel the couch shift when Bucky sat down next to him, but it was impossible to ignore the lump of white fur that was suddenly in his lap. On instinct, he froze, watching.
Alpine seemed to be frozen as well. Everything had changed quickly for her in the last few minutes. She'd been taking a nap on her cat tower, then she was scooped into Bucky's arms and brought out into what was currently the loudest (and most occupied) room in the entire Watchtower. And, just as unceremoniously as she had been picked up, Bucky had dropped her into a lap. But not just any lap.
Bob saw it when Alpine realized where she was. Or rather, who he was. Her eyes narrowed, pupils constricting to tight little slits. Those fuzzy ears rotated back on her head, flattening slightly as she flicked her tail irritably. Bob didn't dare try to touch her. Even he could read that body language.
And, just as soon as she was on his lap, she was gone, jumping down and walking away with her tail high in the air, looking every bit like the affronted princess she was. The only thing Bob was left with was a small scratch on his thigh from her sharp back claws and an ever-growing emptiness in his chest that he'd been fighting back all day.
Bucky apologized profusely, trying to explain, but Bob waved him off. He didn't remember his words exactly, but he could imagine what he'd said. It was okay. It was a nice gesture. Cats are finicky. Maybe next time.
He surely made some excuse to leave. He must have. He didn't know what words, if any, he spoke, but Bob could remember the rumble of using his voice, the dryness of his lips as air breezed past them, and the way his mouth made that weird, uncomfortable clicking sound like his saliva was too sticky and was catching on his tongue and against his teeth. Maybe they called out after him. Maybe they just watched him leave, the room painfully and suddenly quiet. Or maybe they didn't notice at all. Bob didn't know, and he couldn't find it in him to care. He just felt…nothing.
Bob didn't mean to leave his door open. He really didn't. He always closed rooms when he entered them, had ever since he could remember. Closed doors were essential. They meant silence, solitude, safety. But closed doors also meant darkness.
He'd always tried his best to mitigate it. Turning on all the lamps in the attic of his childhood home and open all the blinds. Turning on the hallway light when he'd crash on someone's couch to sleep off a bender. Turning on all the lights on in his room in the Watchtower or at least turn on his bedside lamp. But today? Darkness had already taken root.
As he curled up under his comforter, he felt its tendrils spreading like an infectious disease through his bloodstream. His body was so interminably heavy. His limbs felt weighed down, like someone had tied weights to them that Bob drug behind him with each step. Even his arms felt leaden, not even swinging at his side as he walked, just hanging limply. The thoughts in his brain were a swirl of everything and nothing, becoming a kind of weak, static noise at the back of his mind. Idly, the thought that his fingertips looked darker than normal flickered through his mind, but it left as soon as it appeared, leaving the comforting oblivion of nothingness behind.
Bob knew it was depression. He wasn't stupid. He'd always known that's what it was, even when he didn't have a word to put to it.
There were a lot more better days than there used to be. After tons of hard work, Bob had so much than he ever did before - a therapist who actually listened, medication to help regulate his mood swings, a stable home where he felt safe, and a strange little team that he was starting to feel like were actually his friends.
But it didn't go away. The simple truth of the matter was what he'd secretly known all along - he was unfixable. Even before the serum, Bob Reynolds was damned. He was always a freak. A mistake. A toxic mishmash of polluted genetics soured by a lifetime of shit that happened to him and because of him. There was no pill that would stop it. No breathing techniques that would control his spiraling mind. No inner work strong enough to erase all the trauma that had been imprinted on his soul against his will. Bob could mitigate all he wanted, turn on all the lights, close all the doors to keep out the pain, but the depression would come. Those closed doors couldn't shut out the one person Bob most wished to escape from - himself.
It didn't always manifest like it did in the middle of Manhattan that day when the team came together for the first time. To stop you, his mind whispered, and he couldn't deny it. They'd walked into the shadows of his mind once, but that was enough. There might be no escaping the Void, but Bob would be damned if he let his friends experience that hell ever again.
The team didn't know. They weren't idiots, though. They knew he was going through a depressive episode, but Bob had made damn sure that none of them saw him like this. He ignored the way his phone buzzed with calls and texts. He ignored the knocks on the door and invitations to join them. He even ignored the sound of hushed, concerned voices, no doubt talking about him. He didn't do anything so much as cracking open a window or snagging the trays of food they left outside his door lest anyone see how his body painted the room black with living shadow. It was hard enough just keeping the inky tendrils of the Void from creeping under the doorframe.
Occasionally he'd get the energy to send someone a text, just to let them know he was all right and he'd reach out when he felt up for company. When the shadows retreated from his body, he'd let them in. They always made it their mission to make sure he was stable. It was most likely out of obligation or fear, but Bob appreciated it anyway. He'd burdened them enough with the ticking time bomb that was his powers.
Maybe it was selfish to not tell them he wasn't as in control as he put on, but Bob cherished his time in the Watchtower. Despite the wildly fluctuating, scary ass powers, it was the most stable Bob had been since he was a little kid. Maybe even more stable than then.
He should be preparing them for when he stopped being able to control the Void, to keep it locked behind a closed door. But he reasoned what were they going to do? Yelena had said it herself - all they did was punch, kick, and shoot guns. It wasn't that they weren't strong as hell; the Thunderbolts absolutely were. They were superheroes even though the most power they had was some knock off super soldier serum and one glitchy ghost. What could they do against the darkness inside of him, the one that absorbed all the light around it, like pulsing, coiling Vantablack?
It may not be a permanent solution, but at least in his room, the Void was contained.
Bob didn't see the way the lights waned and flickered in the hallway. Didn't see the grey looks on his teammates' faces after he slunk out of a room thinking no one noticed the way his smiles didn't meet his eyes. Didn't see the pain in his friends' faces when they'd find yet another uneaten meal left at Bob's door - Yelena's hastily wiped away tears, John's uselessly clenched fists, Ava's hanged head, Alexei's drawn face, or the way Bucky stared at his door for minutes on end as if willing Bob to show some sign of life.
No, he kept the door closed, thinking that was enough. That he was protecting them from it.
But the Void couldn't be so easily contained. It curled around the Thunderbolts when everything was quiet, the same as it did for Bob. It always did, and it probably always would.
But it was easier with him around. Who else would watch shitty reality TV shows with Yelena, mocking all the horrible contestants with her? Who else would laugh at Walker's horrible dad jokes? Who else would sit with Ava on bad pain days and quietly talk to distract her? Who else would listen to Alexei's stories about his glory days in Mother Russia? And who else looked at Bucky like he was just another person, like he had zero expectations for the super soldier outside of how Bucky treated him?
But there was one resident of the Watchtower who was completely unaffected by the shadows that draped over everyone else. She saw the crack in the door and took it for the invitation it unwittingly was. Just a nudge, and she slipped through. Her fur gleamed brighter in the darkness, like the light had finally found a foothold in her coat and shone all the more radiantly for it.
Little paws padded their way through the room. Tendrils hovered near her as if yearning to touch but afraid, as if the light she brought was too much even for its inky blackness to siphon away. Her stride was easy but determined, like she had a plan and no shadow monster could stop her.
In one dainty bound, she hopped up on the bed, making her way to the gloomy lump at the center. She didn't stop, didn't even hesitate. She climbed atop the pile of shadows, did one circle to mark her spot, then sat down. As she closed those crystalline blue eyes, Alpine the cat began to purr.
His mind was too full to hear her, ears ringing with the kinds of audio crackles and whines that come when you've heard no sound for too long, like phantom tinnitus. But he could feel the way the little weight on his chest rumbled. It made a sound like a little motor humming, the noise penetrating deep into his bones. It didn't make the static go away, but slowly, little by little, it was shaping it. Like the static was tuning into the frequency of the rumble, the sounds becoming progressively less discordant. It didn't make the hurt go away. It didn't make his thoughts clear up. It didn't make him feel less sad. But it did make the room feel a little brighter.
With each breath, Bob found himself sinking in deeper and deeper into his pillows, his eyes growing heavier and heavier with each susurration. It wasn't a leaden feeling like the Void, a hollow tiredness that radiated through his body. It was the kind of tired that came from a long day full of wrought emotions. The kind of day there's nothing to do but sleep it away and hope that the morning treats you better.
"Alpine?" Bob murmured deeper and slower than he normally would. It was his voice but wrong, twisted. Like there was a dissonant, almost metallic buzzing that rose, matching the static in his mind when he spoke. Somehow, she purred even louder.
He reached up, his hand brushing a soft warmth on his chest. Even with his eyes mostly closed, he could see her. The light from the hallway lit on her fur, and it seemed to him almost as if she glowed like a beacon. Alpine nuzzled against his hand impatiently, and who was he to deny her chin scritchies?
Her purr vibrated through his skin now, echoing down his arm, into his bones, and straight through his body. This must be what it felt like for Ava. It didn't make the pain go away, but she made it easier to bear. Just knowing he was a warm bed for one cat. Just knowing he was chosen at last, that he was worthy.
As he drifted off, Bob felt his lips twitch in the close approximation of a smile. Maybe she didn't hate him after all.
Bucky managed to catch Yelena before she stormed down the hallway. He put both arms across the entrance, barring her way.
Yelena was less than amused.
"Bucky, this isn't the time to play games. I need to check on Bob," she said curtly, pushing on Bucky's flesh arm.
He didn't budge.
"It's okay. He's asleep."
That wasn't exactly the answer Yelena was expecting.
"Did you…check on him?" Yelena asked, brow furrowing in confusion.
When Bob got depressed, they each had their roles. All the team members pitched in to make sure Bob got his needs met even when he was unable to meet them himself. It didn't matter that he couldn't make it downstairs to the kitchen for food. They brought it to him. If he needed company, one of the team would be there for him. If he needed to leave the Watchtower and get some sunshine or go on a midnight walk, there was always someone ready and willing to go with.
But at the end of the day, it was Yelena who was in charge of the serious stuff. She was the closest to him and the one who understood him the best. It only made sense. She'd have hard talks with him, listen to every single one of his irrational spirals and heartbreaking confessions. She'd ramble about anything and everything if he needed to hear someone's voice instead of his own inside his head. And she was the one who'd stay with him when he couldn't sleep alone. For Bucky to be the one to look in on him…well, that wasn't exactly normal.
Bucky shrugged. His face was just as infuriatingly unreadable as it always was. The former Winter Soldier had a poker face that would put most spies to shame.
"Did he…?" Yelena's voice trailed off, glancing down the hallway at his door. She didn't see any telltale shadows at the foot of his door, but that didn't mean anything. Despite Bob's claim that he couldn't control the…Other Guy, he was damned good at keeping his Void form under wraps.
Of course she knew. They all knew. Even if they hadn't checked in on Bob - using picks to unlock and re-lock his door, Ava partially phasing through while invisible to look - it was hard to disguise the feeling of the Void. It was like a cold chill down your back, a storm cloud at the edges of your thoughts, a shadow in the corner of your eye. Walker had joked that it was like the Tower was possessed, but no one, including himself, laughed. They'd agreed long ago that, as long as Bob had it handled, that they wouldn't say anything. They let Bob have his "secret."
Bucky gave a terse nod, and Yelena closed her eyes. She took in a deep, calming breath through her nose and let it out through her mouth slowly before opening them again.
"But you said he's asleep," Yelena insisted. "He doesn't really…sleep while he's the Void. He just kind of…lays there. It's different. He only sleeps when the Void is gone." It seemed like a form of dissociation more than anything. Bob's breathing never evened out the way it did when he was actually asleep. Yelena's theory is that he was actively in the Void itself, probably back in that horrible attic, tinkering with random gadgets and playing with the Rubik's Cube he could never seem to solve. She tried once to break him out of it, to go into the Void and find him. But, instead of sucking her in and turning her body to shadow, the black, writhing tentacles repelled her, physically pushing her away. The Void only wanted Bob.
"He is asleep," Bucky said with the kind of firmness that meant he was sure of it.
Before Yelena's own thoughts could spiral, Bucky interrupted them. He placed a hand on hers. She hadn't realized she'd started picking at her sleeve until she stopped, a nervous tic she had accidentally gleaned from Bob.
"Alpine is with him." He said it like that was an explanation, like that meant anything to Yelena other than the fleeting thought of how strange that was since Alpine couldn't seem to stand Bob.
"I'd hoped when I brought her to the Tower that she'd help." Bucky's words were quiet, like he wasn't used to revealing what he was thinking. Which he wasn't, unless it was to guide or criticize. The only person Bucky ever seemed to open up to was Bob, something Yelena hadn't thought was that odd until just now.
"She's…special," Bucky said simply. "She's brought me a lot of comfort. And from what I've seen, she's done the same for everyone else."
Now that Yelena thought about it, Alpine did seem to always show up when she was really needed. When Alexei got lonely and she'd catch him starting to rewatch his old recordings, Alpine would show up with a toy in her mouth, ready to play. When Ava was having a bad pain day, Alpine always seemed to find her, ready to keep her company and let the soothing vibrations of her purrs help ease Ava's discomfort. When Walker started to get unusually quiet and withdrawn, Yelena would find them asleep together in the living room, both snoring gently. And when Yelena was having a bad day, one where she had to fight the urge to break into the alcohol supply her dad insisted on keeping behind lock and key, Alpine would attempt to play with her guinea pig or follow her around the whole day.
When Yelena looked up into Bucky's patient eyes, they had a knowing gleam in them.
"Why now?" Yelena asked quietly, searching Bucky's face as if she could find the answer there. Why did Alpine wait this entire time? Bob had gone Void before when she was in the Watchtower. What made this time different?
"I'm…not sure," Bucky admitted, ducking his head as though he was embarrassed of his own uncertainty.
Yelena glanced down the hallway and noticed something she hadn't ever seen before. When Bob went Void, he was always so careful about it. He'd message them and say he was fine but needed some alone time. He'd draw all the curtains to make sure no one could see in. And he'd shut and lock the door. Yelena had pulled up video footage of it before. You could see the doorknob shutting, hear the telltale sound of a lock clicking into place, and even see the jiggle of the handle where Bob made sure it was firmly locked. This time, there was a crack.
"Did you open the door?"
Bucky shook his head. "No. I found it like this. Went to look in on Bob and found them asleep together."
They stood in silence for a while, thoughts whirring in both of their heads. They stayed like that for a while, each staring at the impossible inky blackness that threatened to flood out of the open door and into the hallway. Yelena's hand itched to close it, to keep the roiling darkness at bay. Or at least to join Bob, to stay with him and keep him company while he fought the kind of battles she went through but amplified by a million. But she didn't need to. Alpine was already there.
Bucky didn't stop Yelena this time when she walked past him. He didn't stop her when she pushed the door open a fraction more, just enough to see the mass of shadows on the bed in the shape of her best friend and the bright, white pile of fluff on his chest whose fur seemed to catch the light of the hallway and amplify it, shining like a beacon in the pitch black room. She didn't hear footsteps, but it didn't surprise Yelena when Bucky was suddenly right next to her, inching the door open even further to see for himself.
He had been right. Even from here, they could both see the slow, deep rise and fall of Bob's chest, the one that meant he was fast asleep.
"I don't really understand it," Bucky said, his voice the ghost of a whisper. "But I'm glad. He looks…almost peaceful." Maybe his super soldier eyes could see better than hers could. All she could see of Bob was the shape of his head against his light blue pillow. The Void never seemed to have any features besides his outline, but maybe Bucky saw something she didn't.
When they left, they didn't shut the door behind them. They only closed it back to the way it was before they inched it open.
Yelena's own words to Bob echoed in her head as she and Bucky walked away, the ones she spoke to Bob in the Void all those months ago, the ones she meant with every fiber of her being.
"You can't stuff it down. You can't hold it in all alone. No one can. We have to let it out, we have to spend time together. And even if it doesn't make the emptiness go away, I promise you, it will feel lighter."
They'd done their best to help Bob, but she had been right - the emptiness doesn't go away. It seemed obvious now that they were wrong to let Bob keep his secret, to let him isolate himself. It had seemed like the right thing to do. Certainly, Bob would be embarrassed and scared and upset when he found out he wasn't protecting them the way he surely thought he was. But maybe they weren't saving Bob that pain. Maybe they were just saving themselves from it.
Bucky didn't seem surprised when Yelena called a team meeting that night, both to update them on the new development and to tell them her decision. No one disagreed. The looks they shared when they thought she wasn't looking were unmistakable; the team was worried. But they weren't afraid. They all trusted Yelena. And, at the heart of the matter, they trusted Bob, too.
When Yelena knocked on Bob's door the next day, she didn't even have to turn the door handle to open it when he told her to come in. She just pushed against it, and it gave way easily, gliding open to reveal his room the way it was when Bob was having a good day - curtains open to let in the natural light, Bob on his bed idly watching TV while mindlessly playing with a fidget toy, the room in the perfect state of organized disarray Bob preferred to keep it in. There was a new edition, however. Alpine was curled up next to him, her purrs audible even from the doorway.
"That's new," Yelena said, gesturing at the little fuzzy motor humming in his lap.
Bob's smile wasn't as full as it was on regular euythmic days when he wasn't leaning either manic or depressive. He was still in the throes a depressive episode, after all. But it was a genuine one. When he stroked her fur, Alpine purred impossibly louder.
"Yeah," Bob said, his voice stiff with disuse but not as slow and hazy around the edges as it had been before. "She joined me last night. I don't know why."
He gestured for Yelena to join him, and she did, settling down to watch some old 80s sci-fi movie Bob had turned on. She didn't recognize it, but that wasn't a big surprise. It looked nostalgic and fun, and judging from the small smile on Bob's face, it was exactly the kind of comforting thing he needed.
"You always have your door closed," Yelena noted, gesturing at it. "But it wasn't closed when I knocked."
"Oh. I guess I…forgot to close it last night," Bob said, pausing as if thinking. He shook his head as if physically banishing his thoughts from his mind. "That's weird."
"Hmm. Maybe that's a good idea." Yelena noticed some sour gummy worms Bob had been snacking on. She'd monitored his door all morning to try to catch him if he left it, but he hadn't budged. This must've come from his personal stash, aka his bedside table for those late night sugar cravings.
"What is?" Bob asked, taking the opportunity to grab a few more himself.
"Not closing the door all the way," Yelena said after she chewed and swallowed one gummy, savoring the tingle on her tongue from the addictive citric acid and sugar combo.
"What do you mean?" Bob asked, dangling one of his gummy worms in front of Alpine, who pawed at it lazily for his amusement. She purred even faster when he chuckled at her antics.
"You always lock yourself in here on bad days," Yelena noted. Even out of the corner of her eye, it was unmistakable when Bob's whole body froze. This conversation was not going to be an easy one. Fortunately, she had an ally in Alpine, who nudged Bob's free hand with her forehead. His muscles loosened slightly as he pet her.
He didn't respond for a while, just sitting there watching the TV with a faraway look that meant he wasn't absorbing anything on the screen at all.
"Sometimes it's just easier that way," he mumbled, almost as if talking to himself.
"I get that," Yelena said, going in for another gummy worm and popping it in her mouth. She spoke between chews, making sure not to smack her lips and irritate Bob's misophonia. "Sometimes you need to be alone when you feel down. Calm down. Regulate your emotions. Not lash out at others."
Bob nodded his head, relaxing even further.
"But look what happened when you didn't lock yourself in," Yelena said, gesturing at the fluffy white cat. Just half a day ago, she had publicly shunned Bob. Now she was in his lap, looking up at him and making kitty kisses with her eyes, not minding that he didn't seem to understand and return them the way Yelena had seen Bucky do.
Bob hummed his acknowledgement of her words but kept his eyes on the screen as if he couldn't look at Yelena directly.
Yelena relaxed further into the bed, pulling a spare blanket off the floor to cover her. Her movements were careful so as not to drape it over Alpine, who she knew very well detested being covered up.
Today wasn't the day for the full conversation, Yelena knew that. But she couldn't resist putting in one last thought before she turned the conversation to other things, mindless things like reality television and idle Tower gossip.
"You know, sometimes you just gotta leave the door open. You never know who you'll let in."
Divider Credit -> @/strangergraphics
Images in headers are not mine.
Hope you liked it! Feel free to like, reblog, or comment!
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hiiii does anyone wanna beta read my Bob R x Rhett x Reader fic? I'm kinda nervous about it just because I've never done something like that before. It's pretty long right now clocking in around 15K and there will be more...
edit: I HAVE ONE NOW <3 thank you to everyone who offered, I really wanted someone I was mutuals with and I did :)
The devil is a real being. As real as a bear. And I know, for I have seen him and fought with him. But I have encountered and gathered a many righteous brother and sister also.
LEWIS PULLMANÂ as William Lee
THE TESTAMENT OF ANN LEE (2025) — dir. Mona Fastvold
