My Inbox is always open for requests and asks.☺️ (Don't be fooled by the many SentryAgent Fic's, I write for a lot of other Marvel Ships/Characters too 🫡)
Also, if you want to get tagged in future projects let me know.🫶🏼
(Last updated 08/08/2026)
You can now also find all my works on AO3 as well!
SentryAgent
Lost bets and new oppotiunities 17,2K
The Aspiring Hockey Player John Walker x Tattoo Artist Robert Reynolds. AU (Age Gap Fic)
Part 1. 3.9K
Part 2. 5.8K
Part 3. 7.5K
And have mercy on those who doubt 11K
Soon-to-be Deacon Robert Reynolds x Soon-to-be Nun female Reader x Priest John Walker
Trapped, in a fucking Rom-Com? 8K
My Approach on a SentryAgent Rom-Com
Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. 8K
Demon John Walker x Priest Bob Reynolds AU
Rust and Blood 11,2K
ExMilitary John Walker x Vampire Bob Reynolds
Part 1. 5.5K
Part 2. 5.7K
Late Night Calls
A short yet fluffy One-Shot 1.6K
The one who always stays behind 1,3K
A One-Shot of Bobs inability to die and having to deal with the consequences
The ballad of the broken prince and the soft pirate 13K
Pirate John Walker x Prince Bob Reynolds AU
Your prayers won't save you 15.9K
Priest Bob Reynolds x Disowned Nun Fem Reader x Demon John Walker
John Walker is an asshole 4.9K
Bob is watching the video that he isn't supposed to watch and has to deal with the consequences
John Walker is an asshole pathetic 3.5K
Now its Sentry'S turn to watch the video
Just the two of us 12K
Alpha Biker John Walker x Omega Nerd Bob Reynolds
A castle made of stones - The SentryAgent Cellmate AU 6K
Prisoner Bob Reynolds x Prisoner John Walker
Not in the same Way - The Professor x Student AU
Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.
Roleplay Shenanigans
John Walker Lee Shaw the Homewrecker
Bob Reynolds Miles Miller the Bellboy
3. 2. 1. Let's Go!
The SentryAgent Coffee Shop AU 12K
Cooper Redfield x The Void aka Voidfield 8K
Old habits and new memories
Sex, Drugs and Rock'n Roll more Sex 28K
WinterSentryAgent x Fem Reader Drug Dealers AU
Part 1. 14K
Part 2. 14K
Honor among Criminals 15K
Bank-Robber SentryAgent x Fem Reader x Sheriff Bucky AU
Oops!…I Did it Again 12K
MobBoss Steve Rogers x MobBoss Fem Reader x MobBoss Bucky Barnes
Caught in Headlights 2.5K
Evil/Mean Sheriff Bucky x Innocent/Naive Fem Reader
Hide and Seek 4.2K
Kidnapper/Stalker James Barnes x Fem Reader
Starrlight
Textmassages 1K
A One-Shot of the rest of the team being a little annoying while Ava and Yelena try to figure things out
Pairing: Rhett Abbott x gn!Reader x Miles Miller x Bob Reynolds
Prompts: distant scream, racing heartbeat, the sound of footsteps behind you, someone's breath on your neck
Warnings: zombie apocalypse, guns, light blood and gore mention, angst, established polyamorous relationship, a little emotional manipulation at the end
Note: Written for the Lewfreaks drabble event! I've had a few ideas for zombie AUs with a few different lewships and x reader pairings, and this was great to get a taste and prep for my longer fics with them! Apologies for how rushed it is, enjoy!
Word Count: 1.1k
You could still hear them.
It was distant, but there. The screams as people tried to get away, fighting with all they had to survive for just a minute longer. Shoes scraped across the ground as the undead groaned; the squelching of blood and flesh filled your senses as they feasted on their unfortunate victim who just wasn't fast enough to make it out. But you couldn’t dwell on it for long, not when you had to focus on keeping up with Bob and making it out alive.
Of course, the zombie outbreak had to happen on the one day you and Bob went into the city, full of people bustling through the streets and going about their day, not knowing this would be their last normal day on this earth. The phone lines were up just long enough for you to set up a rendezvous point with Rhett and Miles before the connection went dead.
Dodging every bloodied hand and snarling mouth that couldn’t wait to sink its teeth into you, you and Bob made a head to the edge of town. Where the city ended and the forest began was where Rhett's truck would be waiting for you.
Your lungs burned, desperate for you to slow down and catch your breath, but there was no slowing down when it meant your life was on the line. You ignored the way your heart raced, like it was about to explode right out of your chest, Bob's hand in yours being the only thing stopping you from thinking about what this meant for you all. The world was literally ending before your eyes on a random Wednesday afternoon. What bullshit.
“There!” Bob pointed ahead at that all-too-familiar GMC Sierra that came into view. Finally. You made it back to them. You could see a figure perched on top of the truck, like it was on lookout. It was hard to make out, but there was no doubt in your mind: it was Miles.
“Rhett! Miles!” You shouted, waving your hand up at them as Bob tugged you along.
Rhett's head shot up so fast he almost gave himself whiplash when he heard your voice. Relief filled his chest when he realized you and Bob were there together, holding hands as you ran through the grass. Yes, yes, they're alive, they're here, yes, yes, yes. He was about damn ready to celebrate, but then he saw it: the horde behind you. They were catching up; those nasty fuckers moved faster than the movies predicted.
“Come on, hurry!” Miles shouted as he cocked his gun and shot one of the dead behind you. He wanted to jump out and carry you both back to the truck himself, but he knew he needed to cover you while Rhett kept the engine hot and ready to take off. “Come on, baby! You can make it!”
Six long strides were all it took for you to reach the bed of the truck. Bob wrapped his hands around your waist and hoisted you up first as Miles kept firing. The truck engine rumbled as you pulled Bob up next. The moment you two were in, he pushed you two behind him, out of his line of fire as he shot the undead straight between the temples. The former hotel clerk once made a vow to never lay his hands on another weapon, but now that it was the only way to keep his loves safe, he’d fire as many rounds, kill as many of these things as he needed to.
Beating on the back window, Bob yelled to Rhett, “We’re all good, go! Drive, drive!” Rhett had never hit the gas pedal fast enough, flooring it just as those ragged, bloody hands dared to touch the metal of his truck.
Out of breath and exhausted, you dropped yourself on top of Bob's chest, feeling his breath on your neck as he hugged you tight, like he was afraid that if he let go, somehow the dead would still find a way onto the truck and sink its teeth into you.
Once you were far away enough from the dead, Miles let his rifle fall to the side, immediately shifting his focus onto you both. “Oh, thank god!” Miles nearly sobbed as he hugged you tight, burying his head into the crook of your neck. Your chapped lips kissed his cheek, the air feeling lighter, like you could finally breathe again.
Miles pulled away but didn't let go of you when he pulled Bob in, tears of relief streaming down the former hotel clerk's reddened cheeks now that he finally had you two back in his arms. “M’ never letting you two out of my sight ever again.”
“Mi, we're okay, we’re okay. We were fast enough that we got out just in time. We’re okay, Miles.” Your reassurances didn’t stop him from rubbing you up and down your arms and legs, checking for any bites or scratches he may have missed.
Rhett watched you three through the rearview mirror. He wanted so desperately to hop into the back with you and hold you in his arms. When he and Miles saw what was happening on the news, he thought it must've been bullshit; no way this was actually happening. And then he heard your voice on the phone.
You sounded so scared, fear and panic clear as day in your voice as you described to them the carnage you'd just seen. Rhett never wanted to hear that sound in your voice again. But instead of doing that, he gripped the steering wheel for dear life, silently letting the tears build up behind his eyes as he thought about what would have happened if they hadn't found you.
The longer you drove, the darker the sky grew. Gunfire and the groans of the dead went from overwhelming to nothing the further into the forest you went. You, Miles, and Bob stayed huddled together in the bed of the truck, but your eyes never wandered from your cowboy in the front.
“Rhett…” you trailed off, opening and reaching through the small window to touch his shoulder. Rhett shuddered, refusing to look at you. “Pull over.”
He tried to sound strong, but you caught that tremble in his voice. “Can't. Gotta get us somewhere safe; it’s almost dark out, and we got no shelter.”
“We're far away enough from any city that I doubt the dead will be coming by, at least not tonight.” When he still didn’t listen, you pulled a move you knew was mean, but it was the only way he’d stop and get some rest. “Rhett, please, I just wanna hold you right now. After today, that’s all I want. Just need you in my arms and tell me it'll all be okay. Please…”
Breaks screeched to a stop, the low rumbling of the engine ceasing as Rhett pulled the keys from the ignition, his shoulders hunched, head low as he whispered, “We’ll sleep here for the night.”
Tagging all the participants: @lalalunascope , @abbottsdarling @crispy , @fandomxobackup , @hi-res-tm , @prettygirlwyattrussell, @theboardwalkbody , @rhettled, @bowlingforgerbils, @lollypopunicorn14
And also tagging @lewmagoo the mother of lewcest!! 🩷🩷🩷
From the sensory prompt list I chose Comfort
Warm water rushing over your body
Comfortable drifting into sleep
‘Dirt covered boots clambered up the porch steps, in desperate need of getting inside to his ‘Bub.’ As soon as he opened the front door, he instantly noticed the heavenly scent of Miles homemade chicken pot pie. The foul smelling and sweaty cowboy made sure to take his boots off and leave them on the shoe rack by the door.(Miles had chewed him out several times before for tracking dirty shoe prints through their shared home.) As he entered the kitchen his heart skipped a beat seeing his love setting the table for the two of them. ‘Ain’ you a sight fer sore eyes’ Rhett mumbled with a crooked grin that only expanded as Miles started to blush. With a chuckle and a quick kiss to Miles cheek, he commented about how delicious dinner smelt. ‘It does but you smell like livestock’ The slightly shorter man said with a soft smile whilst he gently urged him to go take a shower before supper. Rhett left to go wash off the hard day’s work but not before squeezing Miles’ ass, causing him to squeal and Rhett to laugh.
Dirty clothes now thrown in the hamper, Rhett turned on the shower valve and after getting the water to the temperature he wanted, he got in; some of the dirt from his body instantly being swept away down the drain. He lathered the lavender scented bar of soap in his hands and rubbed it against his body while the warm water cascaded over him. He scrubbed quickly to hurry and eat dinner with his husband.
After turning the faucet off and peeling back the shower curtain Rhett hopped out of the tub to dry off and throw on his sweatpants and a very faded hoodie. When he entered the kitchen there his beloved was, beautiful as can be, setting the table. ‘Perfect timing’ Miles beamed, ‘Dinner’s fresh out the oven.’
Rhett grinned and kissed him while cradling his face gently in his rough, calloused hands. Slowly pulling away “Let’s dig in.” The cowboy muttered.
Dinner was filled with lighthearted chatter about both of their days, how Miles is considering planting cucumbers in their front garden and that ‘the tomato’s are growing faster than I expected them to.’ They both laughed over Rhett mentioning how he had to dodge a mama cow after accidentally getting to close to her calf, Damn ‘ear knocked me on m’ ass’ he chuckled while Miles full on belly laughed. As they finish up dinner and wash the dishes together a comfortable silence befalls them. partially due to how sleepy the both of them are, when everything is put away, leftovers put up, dishes cleaned and lights turned out they head off to bed.
With one last goodnight kiss, Rhett turned off his bedside lamp. G’night, cowboy, love you.’ Miles mumbled already half asleep. ‘Love you too bub.’ Rhett sleep riddled voice rasped while pressing a kiss to Miles’ hairline. And as he lay there drifting off to a restful sleep he couldn’t help but be grateful for the life he has now. Nights no longer felt cold. They no longer were plagued by loneliness and despair like before. His nights were now soft and warm. Filled with love. All thanks to the sweet man that was peacefully sleeping in his arms.’
(if there's a short drabble mixed in please forgive me).
Rating: 18+
Word Count: 3,323
NSFW Alphabet Template
Note: This is something that has been a WIP since November of 2025, but during tonight's LewFreaks Drabble Event I sat down and got back to work on it. I do plan on finishing the rest of the alphabet.
Spent, Bob relaxes on top of you but he doesn't pull out just yet; he lets himself go soft inside you. It makes his heart ache from the intensity of the love he feels to think that, when he's inside you, it's almost as if the two of you are one person - that there's no end to him or you, and he wants to keep that deep connection between your body and his for as long as possible.
With your bodies flush against each other you can feel the thrumming of his heartbeat and the rapid rise and fall of his chest with his breathing. Over the next few minutes you'll feel the way it slows back down to normal. The heat of his body and the weight of him on top of you makes you feel safe.
When he's fully soft and his breathing returns to normal he slips out as he rolls off of you. You can feel his cum leak out of you. He lays on his side facing you, a soft smile on his face and affection in his tired eyes. You roll over to face him and he pulls you in close, once again making your bodies flush. He'll place soft kisses on your lips and forehead as he gently plays with your hair or brushes his fingertips over your back. “How was that?” he'll ask and of course you'll say it was “so good” because, with him, it always is. You'll ask him if it was good for him, too, to which he will reply the same. The two of you will exchange delicate kisses and “I love you’s” until you're either both asleep or able to get up and get cleaned up.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Of His: Bob’s relationship with his physical appearance is complicated and he tries not to look at his body for too long.
On really good days, when his confidence is through the roof, he looks at himself and thinks he looks pretty good, especially after the effects of the Sentry Serum. He will allow himself to be prideful about how he looks cleaner, how he looks healthier, and how good the lean muscles fill out his skin. He'll take better care of himself, he'll dress himself with more care and thought, and he'll carry himself differently, standing up straighter with his head held high, no longer hunching over and staring down at the floor.
On really bad days, though, when that confidence is gone and he's full of nothing but self-loathing, he will rip himself apart. He'll scrutinize every inch of himself; the cut of his hair, the wrinkles in his face and at the corners of his eyes when he smiles, the sound of his voice and the way that he laughs, the hair on the backs of his hands and on his feet, and every blemish on his skin.
Before the Sentry Project he was underweight, malnourished, and had hardly any muscle mass. Between the drugs, low funds, lack of access to regular healthcare, and the food and housing insecurity, his body was more or less wasting away. His hair was always greasy and he always felt sweaty, a combination of naturally running hot and a side effect of the methamphetamine and other chemicals he took into his body. He didn't always have access to a shower (sometimes he resorted to sponge baths in public bathrooms), and sometimes depression would fill him with apathy and rob him of the energy to even be able to care to bathe. He also was prone to picking at his skin - yet another side effect of the chemicals he self-medicated with, but also due to his struggles with anxiety. Bob would try to avoid looking at his arms and thighs as much as possible, the track marks and scars from self-harming filled him with shame whenever he saw them.
Now, with the serum having enhanced his physical form, he feels like a foreigner in his own skin. His muscle mass and bone density were increased, the latter of which helped in repairing the damage sustained to the enamel of his teeth from the years of meth use, no access to dental care, and chronic jaw clenching (yet another combination of stress/anxiety and the drugs effects), and he now was a healthy body weight. But it didn't repair everything. Beyond how it did nothing to help his mental health it also left him with his old scars to serve as constant reminders of how cruelly he had treated his own flesh when he was overcome with the impulse to punish himself; when he was full of self-directed rage, hatred of himself, and mental/emotional pain… so much pain. He hated how the serum seemed to enhance him and yet do nothing to repair the things he hated most about himself, things he wishes would have been fixed, both physically and mentally. Especially mentally.
Looking in the mirror these days he feels like he is living in a body that isn't his and that the only things that serve as reminders that this is, indeed, still his body, are his face and those scars. Really, the majority of his days are spent hating the body his soul resides in. You keep telling him that he is beautiful, that every single one of those things he hates about himself are things worth loving, and that you love every single part of him just the way he is, but his self-loathing runs deep and burns strong. Over time your words will start to help him love himself but it's not going to happen overnight.
Of Yours: It's hard for Bob to choose because he loves everything about you; your smile, your eyes, the sound of your laugh, the softness of your skin and every mark on it. Every last part of you is beautiful to him.
He is just a man, however, and is not above desiring parts of you that you reserve for his eyes only. He loves running his hands over the curves of your ass and thighs, loves placing kisses along your collarbones and over the swells of your breasts, and he absolutely loves laying you back, parting your legs, and tasting the sweetness of your core. In all honesty, in a sexual context, that's his favorite part of you - he loves the way you taste on his tongue as well as the pleasure it gives you when his head is buried between your thighs and he has his fill of you. It's like he's addicted to the taste of you and he could spend every waking moment of his life with his head between your legs, his mouth on your sweet pussy, and your hands fisted in his hair as you whimper and moan his name in pleasure.
But if you were to limit his options by asking him the classic, “are you an ass, tits, or legs man” it's your tits - he loves the softness of them and the way they fill his hands. He'll never admit it out loud, but they also comfort him on some primitive, biological level. Some days, when he's particularly stressed out, he finds himself itching for them, wanting nothing more than to either lay his body on top of yours, or for the two of you to be laying on your sides facing each other, and to latch on to your breast. With his skin against yours and his mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking on it, he feels calmer, as if the stress and tension in his body just melts away. On an occasion or two he’s even fallen asleep this way.
On a more wholesome level, he'll choose your hands. You're always so gentle with him. He loves the way you carefully brush his hair back with your fingers when you catch it fall into his eyes. The way your soft hands feel running over his skin, soothing him when he's upset. He loves when you hold his hand in yours, a gentle reminder that you're there with him, and serving almost as an anchor, keeping him present rather than letting him run away in his own mind. He loves the way they hold him and care for him, the way they never hurt him.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
The second you told him it was safe for him to cum inside you his brain short-circuited. It took him a moment to process what you had given him permission to do: to slide himself inside of you, letting him feel every un-dulled sensation with not even a single atom between his hard cock and your dripping pussy, and to let himself empty into you. The pleasure of cumming inside you without a condom altering the sensation was intoxicating and far better than how it felt with a barrier wrapped around him, and miles better than how it felt to pull out and finish using his own hand. He’d done it before with other people, Bob was no stranger to poor judgement and risky sex, but this time it was different. But now he is doing it with you, and the love he feels for you only increases the pleasure he feels as he floods you with his spend.
D = Dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)
Bob caught you changing once. You thought you were alone so you left your door open a crack as you changed and he happened to walk by. He didn't mean to stare, but he found his feet rooted to the floor and his eyes locked on you. Your back was to the door and he was silent. You didn't even know he was there as you pulled your shirt over your head and, after tossing it on the ground, reached behind you and unclasped your bra, letting that fall to the floor as well. He watched the way your body moved as you undressed. The way you shimmied slightly as you grabbed the bottom of your shirt and pulled it over your head, and how you did the same when you slid your pants over your hips and down your legs. He adored the way your hair got messed up from your shirt dragging over it. He stared at you as you stood there wearing nothing but your underwear. With your back bare he could see the sides of your breasts when you lifted your arms up to fix your hair.
When you started to turn around he bolted with his heart pounding in his chest and his cock pulsing as it stiffened from his arousal flooding through him. If he had had the opportunity he would have gone and jerked off, but he didn't have the time, so he buried the feelings down and had no choice but to wait for the aching in his pants to subside. Eventually it did, and he thought that would be the end of it, but it wasn't. That night he dreamt of you. In his dream he was flooded with the confidence he wished he could possess all the time and not just during episodes, he didn't just freeze and stare at you. Instead he entered your room and pressed himself against your back and let his hands roam the sides and front of your body. In his dream you melted into his touch. He had you. And in his dream he felt you come undone around him at the same time that he emptied himself into you.
He woke up then, just as the wave of pleasure washed over him. For a second he thought the feeling was just from the intensity of the dream, but as he regained more awareness he realized that the pleasure wasn't all subconscious when he felt the wet spot in his boxers. He slid his hand beneath the covers and felt the front of his underwear to confirm what he was feeling - the material was indeed wet and sticky. Bob was a bit mortified that he had been so worked up with lust that he had had a wet dream, something that hadn’t happened since he had hit puberty. This is definitely something he plans to take to his grave.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Bob can't tell you his body count. He knows it's on the higher end, he just can't give you a number. It's not that he lost count just due to frequency, it's just that between mood episodes interfering with his brain's ability to store memories properly, benders, and blackouts, he doesn't remember every time he's ever had sex.
He's had a few girlfriends, and several hookups. The drugs and the mania would flood his brain with dopamine and often would leave him seeking out pleasure. Add that heightened sex drive together with impulsivity and poor decision making and he was left with a sexual appetite that was to be reckoned with. It led to some pretty risky choices, and more than once he'd woken up in a house he'd never seen before completely naked next to an equally naked stranger. He could never say if anything actually happened during those instances, but he felt it was safe to assume that, based on the level of undress and the proximity of his body and theirs, something indeed did happen. Sometimes there was concrete evidence in the form of dried cum coating his cock, but other times it was pure speculation.
Of course a high body count doesn't necessarily equate to skill, but Bob, when not in a drug or drink induced haze, never left anyone unsatisfied. Eager to please, Bob always listens to his partners. Not just their verbal instructions but their body language and other vocalizations, their pants, moans, and whines. Whenever he's with someone he tunes in to the cues their body is giving indicating their level of pleasure and lets it guide him: the way his name was moaned after a particularly strong suck to his partners clit told him he should do that more; a yelp after a particularly deep thrust told him he should ease up; the way his partner grabbed his hair and pulled his head forward as he was between their legs told him to push his tongue deeper inside them as he tongue fucked them; the way his partner would repeat, “yes, just like that” over and over like a fervent prayer told him that the pace in which he thrusted his cock in and out of them was just what they needed. With a sober mind, Bob's level of attunement to his partners never left them with any unmet desires.
F = Favorite position
He loves it when you’re on top.
He loves when you throw your leg over him, take his throbbing cock in your hand, guide it to the entrance of your soaked pussy, and sink down on to it. You go slow, feeling the girth of him stretching you, and sigh with pleasure just as he emits a moan at the sensation of your tight warmth engulfing him. His hands grip your hips tightly, fingertips pressing into your skin, when you've sunk down on him completely. He can either take control or let you keep it; sometimes there's a battle for dominance if both of you are in the mood to be the one in charge. The position easily allows for both scenarios. He likes it when you’re in charge and praising him. But he also likes to grip your hips and fuck himself up in to you while spilling praises of his own for you. Neither of you mind taking turns being the more dominant or submissive one. Does Bob have a preference? Yeah, but he definitely loves both, and sometimes his mental state will have him wanting one over the other, too.
Another big reason for this being his favorite position is that he can watch the way your tits bounce as you ride him.His hands leave your hips and slide their way up your body until they reach your tits. He cups them in his large hands and gives them a firm squeeze. The moan it draws from you encourages him to keep going. He rolls his thumbs over your hardened nipples, listening to the way it makes your breath catch. The whimper that escapes you when he pinches and gently tugs them is music to his ears. He’ll guide you to lean forward so that he can reach your tits with his mouth. He’ll place kisses over your chest before he sucks at your nipples, using his hand to attend to whichever isn’t being attended to with his lips and tongue.
The absolute best part of you being on top? When you straddle his head and sit on his face. He’ll get you to cum on his tongue, your wetness will be coating his nose, mouth, and chin, and he won’t let you go. Not after just one. He’ll wrap his arms around your thighs and hold you there to see how many he can pull from you before your legs are completely incapable of holding you up anymore. And even then he’ll be your support. He won’t stop until either he’s had his fill of your cunt or until you’re actually tapping out.
G = Goofy (are they goofy or more serious in the moment?)
He might start out goofy leading into foreplay, but once the hunger gets too strong it's like a switch is flipped inside his brain and his demeanor shifts as he hones in on you. At that point it becomes all about making sure you feel good. If something silly or a little embarrassing happens in the middle he’ll play it off and have a laugh about it with you, it’s not going to detract from the activity, but for the most part it’s all about pleasure. Unless he decides he’s gonna be a bit bratty….
H = Hair (how well groomed are they?)
Depends on where his moods have been.
Grooming is hard to keep up with when he's feeling low so shaving is one of the first things to get tossed out the window. Showering is hard enough without adding the extra steps of shaving. Facial hair he keeps up with more, because he hates how itchy his face gets the longer his beard grows, but body hair? He couldn't care less. The dark curls grow wild and untamed.
When he's feeling alright, or higher than alright, he has the energy to keep up with his typical grooming habits. He doesn't leave his skin bare, but rather just tames the hairs below the belt. You adore when he has a happy trail. Sometimes he does shave from his belly button to his bush completely, especially if it had grown too wild and he doesn’t have the patience to just trim and shape it up, but when he does you don’t like it any less (and besides - it’s his body, so you just like whatever he wants to do with his hair anyway). If he does shave it completely you like to run your tongue along where the hair would otherwise be, and you especially like to lick along the veins there that become prominent when he’s flexing or a little dehydrated. You also like when it starts to grow back in and the hair, though sparse, comes back in around his navel and lower.
He does his best to keep his balls completely shaved, though, when he’s able to keep on top of shaving. It’s something he does so that you won't be deterred from sucking them into your mouth when you go down on him.
Hey, guess who I did again. Their post-fic lives have been too happy, so I needed something more angsty out of my system. I hoped to do more, but this one got out of hand. tw: Miles' PTSD.
This was written for the Lewfreaks weekend drabble event we're doing weekly/fortnightly. If you'd like to join, head on over to the lewships community for info or DM me, but you can do any Lew character and ship i.e. sentry agent!
This was written under the sensory prompt for 'First sip of Coffee in the morning'
Stunned at how harsh Miles’ tone was, Ben’s arms slowly fell away from his boyfriend’s shoulders as they squared up. “What-?”
“Don’t…” Miles was trembling, his fists locked by his sides, eyes watering but defiantly refusing to let the tears fall. “How dare you.”
If there was one thing Ben’s wife never did, it was let an argument go, but Miles did. Months had passed without an angry word said, just quiet ‘mhmm’s and a roll of the eyes as a gift to themselves in an effort to keep the peace. When Ben’s friends used to moan about the “old ball and chain” and how “it was never just an argument about the laundry, it was about respect or blah blah blah”, Ben would just laugh. If Miranda felt his laziness was about respect, she told him. Straight up. But neither man had dared to utter anything that could appear angry, lest their perfect happily-ever-after be jeopardised for a second. They weren’t good at disagreements; otherwise, maybe Ben could have explained himself better and desculated. Instead, he just crossed his arms - if it wasn’t about the laundry, then what?
“After everythin’ he did to me, you think I want to be like this?” Ben thought Miles would yell, but his voice was stripped of all emotion as it used to do when he talked about Straker, just so he could get through it. “I’m doin’ this for us, because if I don’t… then…”
They’d danced around it long enough. He tried for softness, but it came out clipped as he pressed, “Then what, Miles?”
“Then…” Then what use am I? What if you realise I’m worthless? What point was there to everyone else dying so I could live? “Then I’m… gonna go feed Dot. G’night Ben.”
It wasn’t directed at him, but it hit him all the same as Miles spat his name out, walking past him into the kitchen.
“No, you don’t get to drop it. Wait-” But without thinking, Ben grabbed Miles by the wrist and with too much nervous force, he yanked him back.
Miles froze, and with him, so did all of the air in the house.
He couldn’t believe he did that. Bile crept up his throat. For a second Ben just kept his eyes fixed on where his hand held his boyfriend, the muscle tight under his grip… Slowly, he followed the trail of goosebumps, up the cardigan that was bunched around his elbows and then to his face.
It stabbed Ben right in the heart. Miles looked terrified… He stared at him like he was face to face with his old boss again.
Ben’s anguish must have been as clear as day as suddenly, Miles stepped back, horrified.
He went back to his old ways and apologised. “I… I’m sorry- I need to be alone”
“Miles-”
Before he could say anything more, Miles was gone. The bedroom door slammed shut with an almighty bang. Ben knew better than to crowd him, so he just… stood there. Because what else could he do? He’d accidentally set off Miles before - it was something he was still learning to forgive himself for as they worked together to unpack everything that had happened, but seeing Miles look at him like that?... Once his entire body stopped tingling, and his face no longer felt on fire, Ben snuck out behind the shed for a smoke. And then another.
At least I didn’t say it was both our faults, huh, Miranda?
The clock struck midnight as he ground the last cig into the grass. Ben knew it was unfair, but he couldn’t help it. Over the last couple of hours, replaying the argument in his mind, he just felt himself getting… angrier. He’d tried so hard to give Miles space, to be there when he needed him. And now finally it had spilt over; he had run away. What about him? He’d lost so much. His entire childhood was destroyed by Straker and Barlow, and never had Ben asked for any consideration-
Then he thought, maybe he should have done. Maybe Miles wouldn’t feel the need to prove himself so much if Ben would let him into his shit too.
Fuck. What a day.
What routine they had managed to agree on mostly revolved around bedtime, and for as angry as Ben still felt, what better way to show he was serious about establishing a new routine that helped both of them than by sticking to it now. He went back inside and found that maybe… Just maybe, Miles felt the same way. The bedroom door was slightly ajar. They had promised that no matter what happened, they wouldn’t sleep in separate rooms out of anger.
When Ben entered, he could tell Miles was still awake under the covers, but as he got changed and slipped in, he heard him exhale. Relived. It was torture lying there, not holding him, but Miles had an incredible ability to take up almost no space in bed after years of his tiny bunk at the El Royale. It felt like an entire continent lay between them, yet somehow, hearing the steady, calming rise and fall of Miles’ breathing, Ben eventually fell into a gentle slumber. Sleeping hadn’t come easy since Miranda died. Maybe the routine was helping him too.
And when Ben awoke, he didn’t open his eyes. Not at first. There was their second agreed routine, initially made in jest but that had quickly become one of Ben’s favourite parts of the day. While he loved to lie in, Miles always woke up early, so it was only natural that he made the first cup of coffee. Much to his disappointment, it was rare that Ben got the pleasure of waking up with Miles in his arms; it was just too difficult for him to lie there and enjoy it when the house was quiet. So when Ben heard him breathing next to him with the radio on for company, he didn’t know what to make of it.
Eventually he braved it. His lid opened in increments, the morning sun cutting through the blinds, and there, sat against the headboard, was Miles. He couldn’t make out his expression, only that his leg shook nervously up and down.
“You don’t have to stay”, Ben murmured, his voice weighed down by sleep.
Miles didn’t turn to look at him, but he did relax a bit. “I know… I want to, though. I want to learn.”
Ben didn’t think Beethoven or Sinatra had made music that sounded so beautiful to his ears, but just as beautiful was the feeling of a hot cup of coffee pressed into his hands, the same as every other day, and he hoped, every day to come. He could tell just from the first sip that Miles had spent just as long as and with just as much loving attention to get it exactly how he liked it.
With something approaching a smile, Miles hummed. “It was both our faults.”
They clinked their mugs to that. They would face last night together... After their morning cup of coffee.
Fandom: Thunderbolts (MCU)
Rating: M
Warnings: No Warnings Apply
Relationships: Bob Reynolds x F!Reader
Tags: No use of Y/N, Established Relationship, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Banter, Drabbles, Playing With Hair, Brief and Light Non-Descriptive Sex
Word Count: 1077
Series: Scenes From The Avengers Watchtower (a drabble collection)
Cross-Posted to AO3
Author's Notes:
Another collection of short drabbles (3). Started this a bit ago but worked on it more during this weekends LewFreaks Drabble Event because it fit perfectly with the prompt "fingers brushing through hair" from the event's Sensory Prompt List.
Summary:
A short collection of drabbles focused on running your fingers through Bob's hair.
Event Participants Tag List: @hi-res-tm, @lalalunascope, @abbottsdarling, Crispy, @rhettled, @fandomxo, @bowlingforgerbils, @fairyheart, @prettygirlwyattrussell, @lollypopunicorn14 (if I missed anyone please let me know!)
Enjoy!
TRESSES
Bob joins you on the couch, laying down and resting his head on your lap as the late afternoon sun shines in through the window. He shifts a few times, making himself comfortable, and closes his eyes once he finds the right position. You look down at him affectionately. A lock of hair hangs across his forehead. You gently brush it back, fingers barely touching his skin. A soft smile forms on his lips and his body relaxes, you feel him practically melt into you. Tenderly you card your fingers through his hair causing goosebumps to erupt over his skin as he sighs from the comfort it brings him. It's not long before he drifts off.
Bob has been rocking his hips into yours, each thrust drawn out slow and long, loving you tenderly for quite some time now. After a deep and ardent kiss he pushes himself up slightly, shifting his weight from his forearms to his hands and hovers over you. He looks down at you, his heavy lidded and lust-clouded eyes flashing gold for just a second before returning to deep blue. You smile up at him, your heart swelling with love. Strands of hair cling to his face, stuck there with the sweat beaded on his skin.
“I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you, too.” Gently you reach up towards his face and brush the hair off his brow. “You're so beautiful,” you whisper.
“No. You are.” Bob dips his head back down to punctuate his reply with a kiss as he continues to rock into you gently.
Bob’s street-level style of fighting had been deemed “insufficient” and, as a result, he has been getting training in tactical fighting and self-defense. He had grumbled about it, with his powers he didn’t really see much of a point and he would rather have more time for himself, but he had been told that if he’s going to refuse to use those powers then he better learn the alternative. He begrudgingly agreed.
You popped down to the gym right as his training session wrapped up, as was your routine lately. He’d go down for training and you’d meet up with him once it was done. You would have loved to sit in on the classes, but he had asked you not to. He didn't want you watching him fumble and make mistakes and was still feeling too embarrassed about it. Despite your multiple assurances that he doesn’t look stupid doing it like he thinks he does, he doesn't believe you. So you respected his decision and gave him space.
He walks up to you when he spots you, wiping the sweat from his face with a rag as he works on catching his breath. “I swear I sweat more than ever now,” he sighs when he reaches you, his chest still heaving with heavy breaths. “And that’s saying something.”
You nod softly. He wasn’t wrong about that. “How was it?” you ask.
“Oh, you know. I love being told I have to do things I hate doing,” he replies sarcastically with a shrug of his shoulders and his face scrunching in the way it always does when he's dripping with sarcasm.
A small smile spreads across your face, “I can tell. You’re absolutely glowing right now.”
Your smile pulls a lopsided one from him in turn. “Yeah, that definitely has nothing to do with these bright ass lights reflecting off the gallons of sweat I’m soaked in.”
“Nope, not at all. It’s all pure joy,” you joke. Then, on a more serious note you add, “you’re hot.”
“Boiling actually,” he responds while wiping more sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. It made no difference.
“No! I mean, you’re hot,” you laugh.
“Oh.” A chuckle escapes him. “Well, I knew it. You are crazy. Crazy and blind,” he rolls his eyes but you catch the way he smiles at what you had said.
“Shut up and take the compliment,” you playfully hit his arm.
“Ow!” he feigns hurt at your light touch and pulls his arm away from you with an exaggerated look of shock on his face.
“Don’t quit your day job,” you tease, “you’d never make it as an actor. That performance was terrible.”
“I don't have a day job,” he says smugly. “Or a night job. So really I have all the time in the world for it.”
Shaking your head you tell him, “you do have a job.”
“Oh yeah. ‘Be The Sentry’. It's going about as well as any other job I've ever had. I'd be fired if I wasn't a liability.”
“Bob,” you say, tone steady, not to dismiss or admonish him, but to steady him and keep him from spiraling.
He sighs, “I know. ‘You’ll get it.’ But in the meantime?”
“You will,” you offered your support and to lighten the mood you add, “and in the meantime… your job is to get sweaty from all this on-the-job training.”
“Now that I am good at. The getting sweaty thing,” he smirked.
You chuckle, “yeah you are.”
There is a comfortable lull in the conversation and you just look at him and smile. Even covered with a sheen of sweat from his exertion you still found him to be so beautiful. Tenderly you reach up and brush a lock of his hair, that had been plastered to the side of his face, neatly behind his ear.
“You wanna go upstairs and do something that you actually like?” A devious look spreads across your face as you ask the question quietly, making sure his trainer, who was milling about the gym, wouldn't overhear.
Feigning naivety he replies, “yeah? What would that be?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Something that might help you cool off,” you shrug as you reply with fake innocence.
He raises an eyebrow and questions, “Cool me down or heat me up again?”
A sly smile pulls at your lips, “Could do both if you would like.”
His tongue darts out briefly as he wets his lips and then gently bites down on his bottom lip. He nods, and a whispered, “yeah” escapes him. His voice drops to a deeper tone and steadies as he finishes his statement. “Yeah, I would like that a lot better than this.”
“Come on,” you say softly, lust now burning through you, “let’s go.” You gently grab him by the arm and lead him up to his apartment.
The Best Part of the View - A Sunshines Fic
(Bob Reynolds/Todd Stevens)
briefing: Whilst on vacation in Banff, Bob's in awe of the view, but Todd's view is also very beautiful to him.
words: 4.9k
warnings: inaccuracy regarding how Lake Louise looks, PURE FLUFF, Todd being so annoyingly nonchalant but also very outwardly in love.
author note: My Contribution to the LewCest Community Event (it's only for you guys anyway, but still)
Prompts: Body warmth as someone holds you against them, Ring slipping onto finger, Sound of a nearby waterfall(if you squint),
By the time Todd realized Bob had stopped walking again, he was already six or seven steps ahead. Todd sighed dramatically and turned around. Bob stood near the edge of the trail, backpack hanging from both shoulders, staring through a break in the trees toward the water like he'd never seen a lake before in his life. Which, considering the color of this one, Todd supposed was fair.
Lake Louise looked almost fake.
The water was such an impossible shade of turquoise that Todd had spent the first ten minutes after they arrived quietly convinced someone had cranked the saturation up on the entire landscape. Mountains rose sharply around it, their peaks still streaked with pale remnants of snow despite the summer warmth. Dark evergreens framed everything, their reflections breaking apart whenever the breeze disturbed the surface.
It was the kind of place people put on postcards. The kind of place that made Todd understand why people willingly got up before sunrise while on vacation. Mostly.
He adjusted the strap of his camera around his neck and called back, "You coming?"
Bob didn't look away.
"Yeah."
Todd waited. Bob continued standing there. Todd smiled.
"Bob."
"I said yeah."
"You said that thirty seconds ago."
"I know."
"Generally, when somebody says they're coming, there's movement involved."
That finally got Bob to look over. His expression was almost offended.
"Look at this."
"I am looking at it."
"No, you're looking at me."
Todd raised the camera.
Click.
Bob stared. Todd lowered it.
"Now I'm looking at both."
Bob broke into a grin. "You've taken, like, thirty pictures of me already."
"Forty-two."
Bob blinked. "You counted?"
"No."
"Then how do you know it's forty-two?"
Todd started walking backward down the path again.
"I have a gift."
"For being annoying?"
"Among other things."
Bob laughed and finally followed. The sound carried easily through the quiet morning air. Todd turned around again before he walked into a tree.
They'd been in Banff for three days. Three days of Bob staring out rental-car windows like an excited kid, pointing at mountains Todd could already plainly see. Three days of Bob taking approximately five hundred phone pictures, then insisting Todd look at every single one as though Todd hadn't been standing right beside him when they were taken. Three days of restaurants, scenic drives, coffee on their hotel balcony, and Bob repeatedly saying some variation of, "Can you believe this place?"
Todd could.
What Todd was having slightly more trouble believing was that he'd managed to keep the ring hidden for the entire trip. It was currently buried inside a zippered pocket in the backpack Todd was wearing, tucked inside an old glasses case beneath a packet of tissues, two granola bars, sunscreen, and a tiny first-aid kit.
Bob had nearly discovered it yesterday. He'd been looking for painkillers after dinner and started rummaging through Todd's bag without asking. Todd had crossed the hotel room so quickly Bob had stared at him like he'd completely lost his mind.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You just practically tackled me."
"I did not."
"You moved faster than I've ever seen you move."
Todd had taken the backpack from his hands.
"These are mine."
Bob had stared. Todd had stared back.
Eventually Bob had narrowed his eyes and said, "You're weird."
Then he'd gone looking through his own bag instead.
Todd had spent the next fifteen minutes sitting on the edge of the bed pretending his heart wasn't trying to claw its way through his ribs.
He'd planned this for months.
Not Banff specifically.
The proposal.
The ring had been hidden in three different locations back home before he'd finally decided Bob was too likely to stumble across it accidentally.
Todd had also learned very quickly that carrying an engagement ring around while trying to behave normally was nearly impossible.
Everything suddenly became suspicious. Every time Bob touched his jacket, Todd panicked. Every time Bob moved one of his bags, Todd panicked. Every time Bob asked what he was doing on his phone, Todd panicked.
Apparently, attempting to make one of the biggest decisions of his life look like nothing at all required far more acting talent than Todd possessed.
The hiking trip around Lake Louise had always been the moment, though. Or at least the idea of it. Todd hadn't picked an exact spot.
That felt too rigid.
He wanted somewhere quiet. Somewhere beautiful. Somewhere Bob would want to remember. And considering Bob had spent the entire morning looking like he'd stumbled into another universe, Todd was pretty confident he'd chosen correctly.
They followed the trail along the shoreline, sometimes close enough to the water that Bob could crouch down beside it, sometimes weaving slightly inland beneath the trees. It wasn't crowded yet. A few other hikers passed them in the opposite direction. Couples. Families. Someone jogging, which Todd privately considered an act of hostility against vacations everywhere.
Bob moved at a leisurely pace. Todd had accepted that they weren't hiking so much as wandering.
Every few minutes, Bob found something else deserving inspection. A particularly twisted tree root. A little cluster of wildflowers. A bird he couldn't identify. A clear view of the mountains. Another clear view of the exact same mountains from six feet farther down the trail.
Todd photographed most of it.
And Bob.
Mostly Bob.
Bob crouching near a cluster of tiny purple flowers. Bob squinting toward the opposite shore. Bob adjusting the straps of his backpack. Bob looking over his shoulder because Todd had called his name.
Click.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Click.
"Todd."
"Keep walking."
"You're being weird again."
"I'm always weird."
"Yeah, but you're being a different weird."
Todd froze for half a second. Bob smirked. Todd lifted the camera and took another picture.
"Very observant."
"You know there are other things here besides me, right?"
Todd glanced toward the enormous mountain directly beside them.
"Haven't noticed."
Bob's mouth twitched. "You're ridiculous."
"Keep moving."
Bob did. Todd watched him go. And smiled. He really was happy. That was the stupidly simple truth beneath everything. Todd was happy. Not in some huge, explosive way. Not constantly. Life didn't work like that. There were bad mornings and irritating afternoons. Bills. Laundry. Work. Grocery shopping. Bad moods. Missed calls. Arguments over whose turn it was to clean something neither of them wanted to clean.
There were nights when Bob couldn't sleep. There were days when Todd couldn't figure out how to say what was bothering him. There were moments when being together took work.
But beneath all of it—
Todd was happy.
Bob had somehow turned ordinary into something Todd actively looked forward to. Breakfast. Errands. Sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. Listening to Bob talk about something Todd only halfway understood while he cooked dinner. Finding Bob's shoes in the middle of the floor and complaining even while he moved them out of the way. Waking up and knowing, before he even opened his eyes, that Bob was there.
Todd loved him.
It had stopped feeling dramatic a long time ago. It felt fundamental now. Like something Todd carried without thinking. Like breathing. Like gravity.
Bob wandered slightly ahead again.
Todd reached up and checked the camera battery.
Eighty-seven percent. Good.
He checked the storage. More than enough.
Bob glanced over his shoulder. Todd immediately took a picture. Bob rolled his eyes.
"Subtle."
"Thank you."
"Wasn't a compliment."
"Still taking it."
They continued. Todd's nerves began creeping in slowly. Nothing had happened yet. He hadn't even chosen a spot. But his body apparently knew what his brain was planning and had decided to start preparing for catastrophe early. His palms felt warmer. His stomach had tightened. Every now and then, he became acutely aware of the weight in his backpack despite the ring weighing practically nothing.
He could feel it anyway.
Tiny. Impossible. Waiting. Bob stopped yet again. Todd almost laughed.
This time, though, he understood why.
The trees opened beside the trail. The lake stretched outward in front of them, bright beneath the morning sun. The mountains rose behind it in layers of gray and green, reflected vaguely in the water below.
There was nobody immediately around them.
The trail continued along the bank before disappearing behind the trees.
Bob stepped closer to the water. Not too close. Just enough. His shoulders relaxed.
Todd stopped behind him. Something in his chest tightened.
There. Maybe.
He looked around quickly.
A fallen log rested a short distance off the path, angled toward the water.
Todd glanced at Bob. Still looking away.
Todd quietly slipped the camera strap over his head. He moved carefully. He crouched beside the log, adjusted the camera, checked the framing. Bob was visible. The shoreline. The mountains. Enough open space behind him.
Todd's pulse jumped.
He switched from photo to video. Checked focus. Checked again. And again. Because apparently his brain had stopped trusting technology. He pressed record. A small red symbol appeared on the screen. Todd stared at it.
This was happening. Oh, God.
He stood quickly.
Bob was still oblivious. Todd nearly laughed from sheer nervous disbelief. He jogged the short distance toward him. Bob heard him coming and glanced sideways.
"What were you doing?"
"Nothing."
"Camera?"
"Landscape."
Bob looked toward where Todd had left it.
"...You left your camera."
"I know."
"That's usually the opposite of how photography works."
Todd slid both arms around Bob's waist from behind. Bob stopped talking. His body softened almost instantly.
That got Todd. It always did. No hesitation. No stiffness. Bob simply leaned back against him like Todd was where he'd been expecting to end up anyway. Todd tucked himself closer. His chest pressed gently against Bob's back. His arms crossed low around his middle. Bob covered Todd's hands with his own.
For a while, neither of them said anything. They just looked. The breeze moved softly through the trees behind them. Water touched the shoreline in tiny, uneven sounds. Somewhere farther down the trail, someone laughed, distant enough that the sound barely reached them.
Todd rested his chin lightly near Bob's shoulder. Bob's thumb moved slowly over the back of Todd's hand.
"This is insane," Bob murmured.
Todd swallowed. "Yeah."
"I don't think pictures even look real."
Todd looked at Bob's profile instead. "No."
Bob smiled faintly.
"I kinda don't want to leave."
"We've got a hotel."
"I mean Banff."
"Oh."
Bob leaned his head slightly toward Todd's. "Could live in the woods."
"No."
"A cabin."
"No."
"By the lake."
"Absolutely not."
Bob laughed softly.
Todd smiled against his hair.
"What? You don't wanna become mountain people?"
"I like central heating."
"Cabins have heat."
"I also like delivery."
"We'd survive."
"You'd survive. I'd become bitter."
"You're already bitter."
Todd squeezed him. Bob laughed again. Then settled. Silence returned.
Todd closed his eyes for one second. Just one.
He tried to memorize the feeling. Bob's hands over his. Warmth through their clothes. The smell of pine and sunscreen and the faint clean scent of Bob's shampoo. The breeze brushing past them. The lake ahead. The terrible pounding of Todd's heart. Remember this.
He opened his eyes. The camera already was. That thought nearly made him lose his nerve.
He kissed Bob's temple. Bob hummed. Todd loosened his arms. Bob instinctively caught one of his hands for another second before letting go.
Todd stepped backward. His legs already felt strange. Bob stayed facing the lake. Todd took another step.
His hand went to the zipper on his backpack. His fingers fumbled. Of course. He finally got it open. Found the glasses case. Opened it. The ring box was inside. Todd stared at it for half a second, then he took it out.
His hands were shaking. Not slightly. Actually shaking.
Todd exhaled.
This was ridiculous. He'd imagined himself nervous. He had not imagined his entire nervous system staging a revolt.
He stepped backward once more. Dropped carefully to one knee. Nearly lost his balance.
Recovered.
Looked at Bob.
His throat closed.
"Hey."
Bob hummed absently. Todd swallowed.
"...Bob."
The second time came out differently. Bob heard it. Todd watched the change happen. Bob's shoulders shifted.
He turned. And stopped. Completely.
For one strange second, neither moved. Bob stared at him. Todd stared back.
Bob's eyes dropped immediately.
Todd.
One knee.
Small box.
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Todd's hand shook so badly the box visibly trembled.
That broke the silence.
Bob breathed, "Oh my God."
Todd laughed once. Except the laugh caught halfway out because suddenly his eyes were burning.
"Oh, no."
Bob's hands came up toward his mouth.
"Todd."
"Don't—" Todd rubbed quickly beneath one eye with the heel of his free hand. "Don't do that yet."
Bob stared at him, already glassy-eyed.
"I'm not doing anything."
"You're doing the face."
"What face?"
"The crying face."
Bob gave a tiny, strangled laugh. "I'm not crying."
"You absolutely are."
"So are you."
"I know."
That somehow made it worse. They both laughed.
Todd looked down for a second.
He had a speech. He'd practiced it. In the shower. In the car. Once in the kitchen while Bob was outside getting the mail. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. At least he had.
Now his mind contained roughly three words.
Bob.
Love.
Marriage.
Todd took a breath. Then another.
"I had this whole thing."
Bob's expression crumpled a little more.
Todd pointed at him with the ring box.
"See? That's exactly what I meant. Stop."
Bob laughed through the tears now slipping down his cheeks.
"Sorry."
"No, you're not."
"I'm really not."
Todd looked at him. And everything he'd rehearsed suddenly mattered less. Maybe that was okay.
"I love you."
Bob's lips pressed together.
Todd nodded once as if confirming it to himself.
"I love you so much."
Bob wiped at his cheek. Todd continued before his courage could disappear.
"And I know that's not exactly groundbreaking information."
A shaky laugh from Bob.
Todd smiled.
"But..."
His voice caught. He stopped for a second to breathe. Bob waited. Not impatiently. Not even moving, just looking at him. Todd felt something inside him settle. A little. Enough.
"You make my life better."
Bob inhaled softly. Todd looked briefly toward the lake. Then back at him.
"And I don't mean you make everything easy. Because you don't."
Bob laughed wetly. "Wow."
"No, shut up. I'm trying."
"I'm sorry."
Todd smiled helplessly. "What I mean is...life is still life."
He looked down at the box in his hand.
"Stuff still sucks sometimes. We get annoyed. We get tired. You leave your crap everywhere."
"I do not."
"You do."
"Proposal's going great."
Todd laughed, and this time it came easier. Then he looked up again.
"But even when stuff sucks, I want you there."
Bob went very still. Todd's smile softened.
"I want you there when it's good. I want you there when it's boring. I want you there when we're pissed off at each other. I want grocery stores and bad movies and vacations and laundry and all of it."
His eyes burned again. He let them.
"I want every ordinary thing with you."
Bob covered his mouth. Todd's voice lowered.
"I admire you."
That seemed to hit Bob differently. His brows drew together. Todd nodded.
"I do."
He swallowed hard.
"You're...good, Bob."
Bob looked down.
"No. Look at me."
Slowly, Bob did. Todd kept going.
"You're kind even when nobody's asking you to be. You care about people. You care about me in ways I didn't even know I needed somebody to."
A tear finally escaped Todd's eye and slid down his cheek. He ignored it.
"And I don't know where we're gonna be in ten years."
Bob smiled shakily.
"Hopefully not living in your lake cabin."
Bob made a tiny noise that might have been a laugh. Todd smiled.
"But I don't really care where we end up."
He looked straight at him.
"As long as you're there."
Bob's hands dropped slowly from his face.
Todd opened the ring box. The band caught the sunlight. Bob stared. Todd's entire body seemed to start trembling again. He breathed in. It wasn't steady. Not even close. Neither was his voice when he finally asked.
"Bob Reynolds..."
Bob's face crumpled. Todd smiled through tears.
"Will you marry me?"
Bob didn't answer. Todd had just enough time to register this before Bob moved. Fast.
"Bob—"
Todd's warning became a grunt as Bob practically launched himself at him. Todd toppled backward. The ring box flew from his hand—Thankfully closed. It landed harmlessly in the grass beside them. Todd hit the ground with Bob on top of him.
"Oof!"
Bob's arms locked around his neck. Todd stared at the sky for half a second. Then burst out laughing.
"Jesus Christ!"
Bob buried his face against Todd's shoulder. Todd wrapped both arms around him. His laughter dissolved almost immediately into something shakier. Bob was crying against his neck. Actually crying. Todd squeezed him harder.
"Hey."
Bob shook his head. Todd laughed softly.
"Is that a yes, or did you just decide to kill me in Canada?"
Bob pulled back. His cheeks were wet. His nose was pink. His hair had fallen forward into his face. Todd thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful.
Bob kissed him. Todd barely had time to react before Bob's mouth was on his. He smiled into it. Reached up. Held Bob's face between both hands.
The kiss was messy. Too emotional to be graceful. Bob kept laughing into it. Todd did too. Their noses bumped. Neither cared. Bob kissed him again. And again. Todd's thumb brushed a tear from Bob's cheek.
Bob pressed closer. Then, somewhere in the middle of another kiss, Bob whispered against Todd's mouth.
"Yes."
Todd froze. Bob kissed him again. Todd's hands tightened against his face. Bob smiled against his lips.
"Yes."
Todd laughed. A completely helpless sound.
"Yeah?"
Bob pulled back just far enough to look at him.
"Yes, Todd."
Todd stared. Bob's eyes filled again.
"God, yes."
Todd pulled him down. The kiss that followed was softer. Slower. Todd could feel himself smiling the entire time. Bob's hand slid into his hair. Todd's other arm wrapped around his back. They stayed like that until eventually Bob started laughing again.
Todd pulled away.
"What?"
"We're on the ground."
"You tackled me."
"I got excited."
"You could've said yes like a normal person."
"You're asking me to marry you and you're complaining?"
"I'm saying I almost died."
Bob kissed the corner of his mouth. "You survived."
"Barely."
Another kiss. Todd smiled. Then suddenly remembered.
"The ring."
Bob's eyes widened.
"Oh my God."
Todd twisted his head.
There.
The box sat in the grass two feet away. Todd sagged with relief.
"Jesus."
Bob started laughing. Todd carefully pushed himself upright. Bob moved back enough to let him sit.
For a moment they simply sat facing one another on the ground. Both disheveled. Both teary. Both grinning like idiots.
Todd reached for the box. Bob stared at it as Todd opened it again. The ring was still there.
Of course it was. But Todd still checked. Bob laughed softly.
"You thought it escaped?"
"After you body-slammed me? Maybe."
"I didn't body-slam you."
Todd looked up. Bob's smile grew.
"Okay. Maybe a little."
Todd shook his head.
His hands were still shaking. Maybe worse now. He carefully lifted the ring from the box. Bob's breath caught at the sight of the full ring. Todd saw it, the tiny change.
Suddenly this part felt different.
The question had been chaos. Tears. Laughter. Falling over.
But this? This was quiet.
Todd held the ring between his fingers. Bob looked down at it. His expression softened completely.
Todd swallowed. "Hand."
Bob looked at him. "Huh?"
Todd smiled. "Give me your hand."
"Oh." Bob laughed nervously.
Then lifted his left hand. It was shaking too.
Todd stared. "You're worse than me."
"No, I'm not."
"You absolutely are."
"I just got engaged."
"So did I."
Bob blinked. Then smiled.
"Yeah."
Todd's chest tightened again.
"Yeah."
Bob held out his hand. Todd took it gently. Warm palm. Long fingers. A faint roughness at the base of Bob's fingers.
Todd had held this hand thousands of times. Crossing streets. Watching movies. Walking through stores. Half asleep in bed. Without thinking. Now he held it like something fragile.
Bob's fingers curled slightly around his. Todd ran his thumb slowly across Bob's knuckles. Then repositioned the ring between his fingertips.
The metal felt cool. Surprisingly cool.
Todd noticed everything all at once. The smooth edge against the pad of his thumb. The tiny weight of it. Bob's palm resting against his. The faint tremor running through both their hands.
Todd looked up. Bob was already watching him. Todd smiled. Bob's eyes immediately filled again.
"Oh, come on."
Bob laughed.
"Shut up."
Todd looked down before he started crying again too.
He brought the ring to Bob's finger.
The first touch of metal against Bob's skin made Bob inhale.
Todd paused. "You okay?"
Bob nodded quickly. "Yeah."
Todd's voice softened. "Yeah?"
"Put it on."
Todd smiled.
Slowly, he slid it downward. The band passed over the first part of Bob's finger easily. Then caught gently at the knuckle. Todd stopped. Bob's fingers flexed.
"Wait."
"What?"
"No, no—it's fine. Just..."
Bob laughed nervously.
"My hand's shaking."
"So is mine."
Todd steadied Bob's hand between both of his. Their wrists touched. Todd could feel Bob's pulse. Fast. Probably matching his own.
He adjusted the angle slightly. Pressed carefully. The ring slipped over the knuckle. Then slid smoothly into place.
Both of them went silent. Todd's breath left him.
There it was. Resting at the base of Bob's finger. Perfect.
Bob stared down. Todd didn't let go. Not yet.
His thumb moved slowly over the band. Warm now from Bob's skin. Todd traced the edge once. Then again. Something about seeing it there made everything feel suddenly, overwhelmingly real.
Not the kneeling. Not the question. Not even Bob saying yes.
This. The ring on Bob's hand. Todd's ring. Bob wearing it.
Bob's lips parted slightly. He turned his hand. The sunlight caught the metal. Bob turned it back. Todd watched his expression change.
Awe. Disbelief. Then a smile that appeared slowly.
"...I'm engaged."
Todd laughed softly. "Yeah."
Bob looked at him. "So are you."
Todd's smile broke wide. "Yeah."
Bob looked down again. He touched the ring lightly with the fingers of his other hand.
"It's really there."
Todd swallowed. "Yeah."
Bob turned his hand once more. "I'm gonna marry you."
Todd's eyes burned. He shook his head.
"You're gonna make me cry again."
"You've been crying for ten minutes."
"I've been emotional."
"That's crying."
"Don't ruin this."
Bob laughed. Todd leaned forward. Their foreheads touched. Bob's hand slid gently around Todd's wrist. Todd looked down again. The ring sat between them.
"I'm gonna marry you," Bob whispered again.
Todd closed his eyes. "Yeah."
Bob smiled. "You're stuck with me."
Todd opened his eyes. "God, I hope so."
Bob kissed him. Softly this time. No rushing. No tackling. Just the warm press of his mouth against Todd's while Todd held his newly ringed hand between them.
When they separated, neither moved far. Todd brushed his nose lightly against Bob's. Bob smiled.
Then glanced toward the camera. His expression changed. Todd saw it. Bob slowly looked back.
"Todd."
Todd bit the inside of his cheek as Bob pointed.
"...Is that recording?"
Todd looked over. The tiny red light was still visible. He looked back.
"Maybe."
Bob's mouth fell open. "You recorded it?"
Todd smiled. Bob stared.
"You recorded the whole thing?"
"Assuming the camera didn't fall over when you attempted murder, yeah."
Bob's eyes filled again. Todd immediately pointed at him.
"No."
Bob laughed.
"Todd."
"No more crying."
"You recorded it."
"I wanted us to have it."
That shut Bob up. Todd's expression softened.
"I wanted you to be able to see it."
Bob looked toward the camera again then back.
"Me tackling you?"
"Unfortunately."
Bob laughed.
Todd stood first. His knees protested. He held out his hand. Bob looked at it, then at the ring, then smiled. He took Todd's hand. Todd pulled him upright. They didn't let go. Todd retrieved the camera. The recording was still running. He stopped it. Saved. He checked the thumbnail. Bob leaned over his shoulder.
"Did it get us?"
Todd scrubbed briefly through the footage. There they were. Tiny on the screen:
Todd behind Bob. The lake. The hug. Todd stepping backward. Bob turning around. Todd kneeling. Then, Bob flying into him.
Todd snorted. "Oh, my God."
Bob started laughing. "I didn't realize I ran that fast."
"You almost took my head off."
"You were fine."
"I disappeared from frame."
Sure enough, the footage showed both of them dropping completely out of sight. For several seconds there was nothing but mountains and lake while their laughter played from somewhere below the camera.
Bob covered his mouth. Todd laughed harder.
"This is terrible."
"It's perfect."
Todd looked sideways. Bob wasn't watching the screen anymore. He was watching Todd. Todd's laughter faded into a smile.
"Yeah?"
Bob nodded. "Perfect."
Todd leaned over and kissed him. Then Bob took Todd's hand again and they continued walking.
The hike was different now. Nothing around them had changed. Same trail. Same lake. Same mountains. Same morning. But Bob kept looking at his hand. Every few minutes. He'd lift it slightly. Turn his wrist. Watch the ring catch the sun. Todd pretended not to notice at first. Eventually he stopped pretending.
"You keep staring at it."
Bob glanced over. "No, I don't."
"You literally are right now."
"I'm checking it."
"For what?"
Bob looked down. "To make sure it's still there."
Todd squeezed his hand. "It's not going anywhere."
Bob smiled. "I know."
A few minutes later Todd caught him doing it again. This time he didn't say anything. He simply lifted their joined hands and kissed Bob's knuckles.
Bob looked at him. Todd kept walking. Bob's smile became ridiculous.
"Todd."
"What?"
"Nothing."
Todd smiled too.
They wandered along the lake like that. Hand in hand. Every so often Bob squeezed. Todd squeezed back. Sometimes their arms swung gently between them. Sometimes Bob's thumb rubbed over Todd's knuckles. Sometimes his thumb drifted instead to the ring. Todd noticed every single time.
At one point Bob stopped abruptly. Todd nearly walked past him.
"What?"
Bob pulled him back. Then kissed him. Todd made a surprised noise before smiling into it.
When Bob pulled away, Todd blinked.
"What was that for?"
Bob shrugged. "I'm engaged."
Todd laughed. "That doesn't answer my question."
"It does to me."
They kept walking.
Later, they stopped at another overlook. The trail rose slightly there, giving them a wider view across the water. Bob rested his forearms against a wooden railing. Todd stood beside him.
For once, Todd didn't reach for the camera. He simply looked. The sunlight had shifted higher. The lake seemed brighter now. Tourists moved in tiny shapes farther down the shoreline. Clouds drifted slowly around the peaks.
Bob exhaled.
"This is gonna be really hard to top."
Todd glanced over.
"I wasn't trying to."
Bob turned his head.
"No?"
Todd shook his head.
"I already got what I came here for."
Bob stared at him. Todd held his gaze for approximately two seconds before Bob's face did that thing again.
Todd groaned.
"Oh, no."
Bob laughed.
"You can't say stuff like that."
"Why?"
"Because."
"Because what?"
Bob reached over and grabbed the front of Todd's shirt. He pulled him closer.
Todd laughed.
"Violent today."
Bob kissed him. Todd slid one hand to Bob's waist. The other stayed on the railing. When they pulled apart, Bob rested his forehead against Todd's temple. For a few seconds, they simply breathed. Then Bob looked down. His left hand was resting between them. The ring gleamed softly. Bob rubbed his thumb over it. Todd covered his hand. Their fingers threaded together. The ring settled between them. Todd felt it press lightly against his finger.
New. Solid. There.
Bob looked at him. Todd smiled. Bob smiled back. Then they turned toward the trail. There was still plenty of it ahead. More trees. More water. More stops Bob would undoubtedly insist on making. More pictures.
Eventually lunch. Eventually the hotel. Eventually phone calls and messages and people losing their minds when they found out.
Later.
None of that mattered yet. For now, Todd adjusted his backpack. Bob moved closer. Their shoulders bumped. Their hands stayed intertwined.
And together they continued down the trail, sunlight flickering through the trees ahead of them.
Bob glanced down one more time. At the ring. At their hands. Then up at Todd.
Todd caught him. "What?"
Bob shook his head. "Nothing."
Todd squeezed his hand. Bob squeezed back. And they kept walking.
imagine: she's fresh out of the shower with clingy bob R
note: drabble/imagine idk what to call it, based off of multiple prompts from HERE
Warnings: slight nudity, fluff fluff fluff, very unedited
others were apart of this event~ tags: @abbottsdarling, @bowlingforgerbils @fairyheart, @hi-res-tm, @prettygirlwyattrussell, @theboardwalkbody, @lollypopunicorn14, @lalalunascope
Living in a cute little two bed house with Bob, when she steps out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her, the smell of laundry lint lingers in the air.
She pads down the hallway to their bedroom where Bob stands there, tall, with a baggy blue sweater stretching across his frame. He senses her the minute she walks in the door, "C'mere."
She smiles stepping in closer to her boyfriend, her hands come to scrunch the material of his freshly warm sweater in her hands, pressing her face into his chest. The scent of the sandalwood fabric softner told her it was fresh out of the laundry.
Bob snuggles into her, obsessed with the oatmeal and Shea butter scent from her body wash, the vanilla lotion that makes him hum against her in contentment. It was all her and that's all he needs.
His hair tickles against her throat, his arms wrapping around her tight, "M'all wet."
"Don't care," he mumbles, burying in further, his superhuman body heat radiates from his arms, hands, chest, to help prevent a chill.
So she gives in further, melting in his embrace, her fingers thread through his hair. It causes littering of goosebumps on the back of his neck.
"I'm gonna get cold,"
"No you're not, Im keeping you warm," he begrudged, almost whines while squeezing her tight.
She squeals when her feet lift from the ground, Bob tossing her on to the bed, next to the clean clothes that scramble from the action.
"Now I'm definitely freezing," she comments with a playful flare in her eyes, he shakes his head. Knees placing on the bed so he can crawl over her, causing the clothes to dip even more.
Then his body weight is set on top of hers like the perfect cozy blanket. Her hands slide underneath his sweater to splay against his waist to pull him closer. His nose nuzzles into her jaw, then sweetly angling his head to lay a butterfly kiss on her nose.
His voice darkened, not with lust but with the way she honey soaked his heart with her mere presence, "Is it better now?"
The more the two settle, the more the laundry topples over on to them, "Yes," she whispers, dipping her chin to purse her lips slowly before laying a soft kiss that spoke of the eloquent nature between them.
I'm working on the sequel to I Want My Boyfriends to Kiss and making some good headway. So for the Lewfreaks Drabble Event that some of us did this weekend, I worked on this fic. So here's a sneak peak of the straight up filth ahead!
Warning: SMUT, MDNI, 18+ ONLY, voyeurism, punishment, dom!John Walker, very light humiliation, John calls Bob "Bobby" with permission, Bob gets called a "good boy"
"I tried to stop her…" Bob protested but his heart wasn't in it.
"Mmm hmm. I could see that from the way you fought so hard against those restraints," John teased. "You definitely didn't fall to your knees the second you saw our girl all dressed up for us."
You'd been biting your tongue while listening to their back and forth but found yourself unable to hold it any longer.
"The only part of him that fought restraint was his cock."
You didn't even get to see the comical look of betrayal on Bob's face as his head swiveled to glare at you. Just as you suspected, the machine under you buzzed in response, vibrations ramping back up - your punishment for speaking out of turn. You'd braced yourself for the inevitable outcome of your misconduct but couldn't quite fight the whine that escaped through your gritted teeth as pleasure started taking hold of you again, picking up right where it had left off.
Soon, the vibrations died down again back to a pleasant rumble, leaving you panting and whimpering in response.
"You know better than to speak when you're not spoken to, princess," John admonished. "But she has a point, Bobby. That cock ring looked like it was ready to pop off you."
Bob opened his mouth to once again assert his supposed innocence, but John cut him off.
"That's enough out of you. Unless you want to be tied up and put on a vibrator of your own when I get back." His voice was contemplative, as if he was mulling the idea around in his mind and finding it not entirely unappealing. "Or better yet, do. That sounds like a fun way to spend the night."
Bob's silence was all the answer he needed.
"Good boy," John practically purred. The resulting shiver than visibly ran down Bob's spine sent a jolt through your own, your cunt giving a particularly hard throb that had you clamping your mouth shut to keep the needy noises you were dying to make inside.
"Don't worry, baby. I promise you'll enjoy it, too."
I Can Tell You Miss Me // Dallas X Todd Stevens - (Rated 'E')
hey guys!!! i had an absolute blast taking part in the lewships drabble event tonight, everybody was so, SO supportive, and it was so much fun to challenge myself to write for a pairing I don't normally focus on. I know it's super cheesy, but I hope you guys enjoy it!
It’s too dark for five pm. Wyoming in the summer is supposed to be endless, flat sun until nine, nothing but blue for miles. But it’s been storming for days, and the skies are grey and heavy, rain beating across the shitty metal roof of Dallas’ trailer louder than waves against rocks. Louder than a cop knock after a noise complaint. Louder than his dad’s voice in the back of his head calling him a thousand and one different things for getting down on his hands and knees for another man like it’s all he knows how to do.
It’s still not loud enough to drown out his heartbeat, though.
Todd can hear it pounding in his ears, blood rushing, as he struggles to catch his breath. It’s a little overwhelming—all the fucking noise. Until somebody else’s voice cuts through it all, hot breath curling around his ear from behind;
“That’s it. That’s my good little rich boy, takin’ what he wants.” Dallas murmurs, watching his fingers disappear inside Todd over and over again. He’s got Todd laying on his stomach, clothes tossed onto the floor, knees pushed up underneath him from support. The shorter haired man is still fully clothed, though, standing at the foot of the bed with his ratty white t-shirt softly pressing into the small of Todd’s back, those cheap ass work jeans of his (that are covered in fucking grass stains and God knows what all else) barely concealing what the younger one knows is waiting for him underneath.
They’ve done this before. Every summer since he turned 18, when his family returns to their cattle ranch to escape the miles of too-hot asphalt in the city, he and Dallas sneak off for a quick fuck on the shitty mattress the older guy keeps frameless pushed up against the far corner of his room. Todd always complains about what a shithole this place is, and then Dallas always points out that it’s better than doing it out in the field where anybody could stumble upon them, and then they both stop talking for a while as they touch each other too eagerly for people pretending that this doesn’t matter.
It’s funny. Once you lie to yourself long enough, it’s easy to convince yourself it’s true.
“What’ve you got goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, honey, hmm?” Dallas rasps, slipping his free hand down to the vee of Todd’s thighs to guide his hips faster, forcing the younger man to rock back onto the thrusting of his strong, calloused fingers. He adds a third one, curling them just right to drag a pathetic cry from high in Todd’s throat (he’s done this enough times by now to know every inch of Todd’s body- knows it better than he knows his own). Dallas buries his face against Todd’s shoulder, gently nipping at his skin, before breathing out, “What’re you doin’ thinkin’ about anythin’ but me? Huh?”
Todd's eyes flutter shut, red-hot embarrassment burning its way down his back just from Dallas’ fucking mouth. “...Somebody’s pretty damn full of himself.”
That gets him a quiet laugh and a playful slap on the ass, before those fingers are removed (he doesn't whine- he doesn't), and he's rolled over onto his back.
He’s bait in a trap. A pathetic fucking rabbit thrashing around in a tangle of ropes, as a wolf bares down on him from above.
Dallas loves to play with his food. They never get enough time—not really—but what they do get, the ranch hand knows how to spend. He likes to make Todd undress real slow, touches him gently (for a while, at least), works him open for way too long just to see him squirm.
And then he breaks. Sure as winter.
Ripping his work shirt off over his head, Dallas undoes his jeans just enough to get his cock out, and then he drops down, one forearm beside Todd’s head, the other guiding himself forward between the other man’s spread legs. And then he stops, the head of his dick just barely pressing against Todd’s hole. Dark, squinting eyes peer down, searching his face for…something, before his face breaks out into a toothy smirk. “And somebody’s bein’ real mouthy tonight…you must not want it all that bad, huh, honey?”
Alright, now this time, he does whine. He’s too far gone to even be ashamed of it. With shaking, desperate hands, he grabs onto Dallas’ shoulders, and drags to drag him closer. “No, no, c’mon, please. Don’t- Don’t be like that.”
Dallas laughs again and presses a deceptively sweet kiss below Todd’s jaw. But he doesn’t keep going, even when Todd tries to grind down against him to get him inside where he belongs. “Ask me nicely, Rich Boy.”
Shame, and pride, and want claw their way up from his guts, ripping his insides into vulnerable shreds. The thundering of the rain, and his heartbeat, and all those thoughts in his head have returned in full force, making him dizzy all over again, and all he can do to try and make it all go away is melt passively into the mattress, fluttering his eyelashes up at his cowboy like some goddamned damsel in distress. He knows it’ll get him what he wants- it always does. “...Please. I need it.”
“There he is.” Dallas whispers with pride, before kissing him on the cheek, then both of his eyelids, and then finally, finally, his lips, prying the younger man open with his tongue to get at the heat of his mouth. After that, it’s like they’re both trying to climb inside each other, biting, and licking, and crawling as close as they can in the time they have left, before Todd has to sneak out without anyone else seeing. When he pulls away, his eyes are glazed, and it makes Todd’s stomach go tight as a drum to see. “There’s my good boy, bein’ so sweet for me.”
He groans and strains his head up to bring their mouths back together again. And Dallas gives in easily, lets him kiss him for another minute, before he drags his wet mouth away to suck in a steadying breath, and inch forward, sliding all the way home in one go.
Eight months out of the year, Todd walks around with a hole inside his chest that aches so loud, it keeps him up at night, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. It’s that lying thing all over again. He tells himself it isn’t there, and by the end of the Spring semester, he almost believes it. And then all it takes is Dallas filling him up again, pinning him down with his strong, heavy body, to remind him what it feels like to be whole. Sometimes it even brings tears to his eyes, how unfair it is that there’s a part of him he never asked to give up just walking around Wyoming like it doesn’t bother him one bit. Like he doesn’t feel it too.
But he has to, doesn’t he? With the way that Dallas looks down at him, eyes all hungry and hopeless, hands grabbing onto him like he’s scared somebody’s about to rip him away? He has to feel it, the way they fit together just right.
Hey everybody! I was cordially invited to participate in the Lewcest Weekend Drabble Event! *Sensory Edition*
Pairing: Miles Miller x Corporal Lewis Ford (modern au)
486 words.
Prompt: Jacket draped over your shoulders. Pure fluff!!!
Tagging the other wonderful participants: @abbottsdarling, (Crispy), @fairyheart, @fandomxo, @hi-res-tm, @prettygirlwyattrussell, @theboardwalkbody, @rhettled, @lollypopunicorn14, @lalalunascope,
I think that's everything! Enjoy!
Miles had worn his nicest cardigan on his date with Ford.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t his warmest.
The desert got cold at night, a fact that Miles had forgotten, never having anywhere to go in the evenings. His soft, cable-knit cardigan in a pale gray was not doing much to block out the chill as he and Ford walked around the little town where they had eaten dinner.
“Nice night,” Ford said conversationally. He was a man of few words, as Miles had learned in the course of getting to know him, but it was sweet that he was trying. “You can’t see this many stars in Sacramento.”
Miles nodded. It was indeed very pretty, the clear, dark sky above twinkling like diamonds. He wrapped his arms around himself, fighting off a shiver, and smiled at the other man. “Did you ever learn the constellations as a kid?”
“In Brooklyn?” Ford snorted. “Nah, the light pollution was even worse there.” His gaze dropped to Miles’s arms and he frowned softly. “Hey, you cold?”
“I’m fine,” Miles lied. The last thing he wanted was to cut the date short.
Ford clearly did not believe him, his perceptive blue eyes squinting slightly. But he seemed to let the matter drop, resuming their walk. “I can spot Orion’s belt and the big dipper, and that's about it. They had a land navigation course at Camp Mackall that included star charts, but I didn’t bother applying.”
“Oh, I remember reading about that one, but I was already at Fort Benning…”
Miles looked away, briefly, at a bar lit up with fairy lights, distracted by the twinkling, when he felt a weight land on his shoulders — dense, warm fabric that smelled like Ford’s cologne.
It was Ford’s jacket. “Oh!” Miles clutched the collar so that it wouldn’t slip off. “Lew, you don’t have to —“
“‘Course I do.” Ford was smiling at him, apparently immune to the cold in only his button-down shirt. “What kind of asshole would I be if I let my boyfriend freeze to death?”
*Boyfriend*. That warmed Miles up even more than the jacket. He slipped his arms into the sleeves — too long for him, but that was just as well, as it kept his hands nice and toasty, too. “Thank you,” he said quietly, leaning up press a kiss to Ford’s cheek. “But if you get cold at all, I want you to take it back, okay?”
“If I get cold at all,” Ford murmured into Miles’s ear, “you can always warm me up at the motel.”
Miles blushed, giddy at the thought. He brought up a hand, the jacket’s cuff brushing over his knuckles, and patted Ford’s chest. “Maybe we should head back then.”
“Sure.” Ford pulled him in for a quick hug, kissing the top of his head. “The stars can wait when I’ve got you.”
Miles stayed warm the entire way back to Ford’s car.
Well, here is my humble contribution to the Lewcest Weekend Drabble Event! *Sensory Edition* ❤️❤️❤️
Pairing: Jordan Weaver x Bob Reynolds (Blazed)
Wordcount: 1.8K
Prompts: -Walking into a warm room after being out in the cold -Coming home to your door cracked open -Warm water rushing over your body -Fingers brushing through hair -Eyes meeting for the first time -Clenched fists -Pain after punching something -Lights passing by as you drive at night
Warnings: Mentions of past drug abuse, physical fights, blood, Jordan being a pervert for a moment, cursing,
Tagging: @prettygirlwyattrussell @hi-res-tm @lalalunascope @iristheplanet16 @theboardwalkbody @fairyheart @rhettled @bowlingforgerbils AND @abbottsdarling (Lysa, I want you to know that when I went through with my editing, I shamelessly thought about this as some kind of prequel to your camboys fic, and yes, that would technically mean that Jordan lives in the MCU 🫣😂❤️)
--------------
It rains approximately 35 days a year in Los Angeles. 35 days out of 365, of course, the night the police officers let Jordan Weaver go was one of them. The drops were thick and cold, drenching his thin tank top and pants that they arrested him in three days prior. His arms crossed, he tried to warm himself up, mumbling curses under his breath. „Fucking Cops, not enough evidence who would have guessed that huh?” He spat on the ground of the apartment complex, seeing red everywhere. „Fuck that Goldman bitch, who does she think she is?”
His hands shake, fumbling with his keys, he brings one of them to the lock and comes to the realization that the door is already open. Fuck, what was he supposed to do now? His bat was inside, if he called the cops, they would just laugh at him before shutting the line.
Well, it's not like he had anything worth stealing, maybe the intruder noticed that themself and left immediately. Careful not to betray himself, he opened the door, using the screen of his phone as the only source of light after closing the door behind him.
There were his clothes scattered around the floor, his kitchen covered in empty takeout boxes and half-full protein shake mixers. His workout equipment was still in its place. His heart jumped out of his chest when his feet met the baseball bat lying on the carpet, showing little droplets of his blood. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared with the only rooms left, the small bedroom and the even smaller bathroom.
Jordan could peek into the bathroom from the hallway, nothing strange, but from the bedroom, from beneath the door shines a dim light. Since the cops busted him in the middle of the day, Jordan is 100 percent sure he didn’t leave it on. His phone ends up in his pocket, holding on tight to the knob, shoving the door open with his foot.
The unnatural warmth of the room sends a pleasant shiver through his spine, the source of light being his bedside table and on the bed, well it was definitely not what he expected. Snoring mixed with mumbles filled the room. There was a man in his bed, nothing out of the ordinary except that Jordan had never seen this man in his life.
To make matters worse, he was in scrubs, maybe he left from the psychward, maybe he is a serial killer or a psychopath. With little steps, he approaches the bed further. If there is one thing Jordan had, it was extraordinary knowledge of humans, this man was definitely not dangerous. He put the bat down and accidentally hit the bedframe, the stranger seemingly unbothered by the noise. Technically, he could kill him; there is probably a law for that. He could ruttle him awake and throw him out of his apartment.
Yet the way the brunet man rolls around, clinging to one of the pillows, drooling a little from the corners of his mouth- how could he? Maybe that guy just needed a good amount of sleep, Jordan has been in worse places before. With an exhausted breath and a shake of his head, he walks to the bathroom or rather the shower. The warm water running down his body attempts to wash away the shame, memories and troubles of the past few days. To a certain extent it works, afterwards he feels at least a little better, his mind occupied with what he should do with the man, that is until he steps into the living room.
With only a towel wrapped around his hips, he observes as the stranger hastily searches through Jordan's wallet, holding a twenty-dollar note to his chest as if he just hit the jackpot. Everything that happened so far crashes over him in a big, dangerous wave, fists clenched so strong his knuckles turn ivory white, jaw so tight it may break his jawline.
The poor stranger doesn’t stand a chance. Jordan is on him in a heartbeat, punching the wall right next to his head. „What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Wow, the scared, horrified midnight blue eyes staring back at him were something else. Jordan has to bite the pain coming from his hand down as he grabs the slightly lacerated collar, pinning the man against the wall completely. Is that gold? Flicking between the blue? Anyway, „Answer me or I'll call the cops!”
„I’m- I’m Bob and I don’t remember, I don’t remember how I got here.” Jordan allowed himself a good look not missing the trembling and the injection sites. „You a methhead?” There would have been nicer ways to phrase it, but right now Jordan didn’t have the patience for it. Suddenly he is the one pressed against the wall, for the first time ever he clearly underestimated someone. He should have kept the bat nearby just in case.
„Not anymore. I think. Sorry for disturbing you. I-I leave.” Bob drops the bill but does not make it to the front door, the brutal knock freezing every cell in his body. „Jordan, you little piece of shit! I know you are there. You still owe me my money!”
Did he lock the door when he came back? The answer comes in the form of Terry pushing the door open until it cracks the wall behind it, ignoring Bob and coming straight for Jordan. The crack that follows lets Bob flinch, the blue in his eyes losing the battle, gold replaces it all over.
„Leave him alone.” Jordan, who is curled up on the ground, holding his nose and hissing, looks up, not believing his own eyes. That Dude is floating above the god damn ground.
Terry, who is probably stoned out of his mind, doesn't seem to notice and leaps at Bob and gets smashed through the wooden front door, head hitting the railing with a sharp, metallic crank. To their luck, nobody in that building seems to care or dares to come.
Bob collapses while Jordan manages to stand up, inspecting Terry and fortunately finding a pulse. The growl is what catches his attention next. Bob wants to stand up but falls again. With urgent steps, Jordan is on him, lifting him and placing him on a chair. „Fuck dude, you knocked that shithead down without effort, you have to tell me your gym routine.”
„My what? Oh my god, is he dead!?”
„Chill, just unconscious.” While talking, Jordan paces his apartment, shoving everything he can into plastic bags. “Listen, you can’t stay here.”
„Wasn’t planning to. What are you doing?”
„Can’t stay here either, too much shit going on. I can drop you off somewhere, friends, family?”
Gaze drifting off, and lips pressed together, Jordan doesn’t need long to count one and one together.
„You’re alone?” Bob nods in defeat, why should he even try to lie? „Well, if you want to, you can come with me, I guess everywhere is better than here.” Bob shyly looks over to the unconscious man, he wanted to become a better person, but apparently it only got worse.
„Hey, it's the least I can do for you since you got rid of that pig for me, no reason to get all shy.” Bob almost slides from the chair as Jordan throws some clothes into his lap.
„Take them or else people think you broke out of a psych ward, you didn’t, right?” Again Bob nods, even though he is not sure, his mind is covered in a layer of fog.
„Good, superboy, now get dressed.”
„I’m not a dog.” Jordan's smirk is as amused as the huff that fills the air. One step out of the living room and Bob gets stopped by him blocking the way.
„Well, you still slept in my apartment, don’t you think I deserve some compensation for that?”
Bob could do the same thing to him as he did to Terry still, he chooses not to. Why? Honestly, he doesn’t know. Bob turns around for the lower part, feeling Jordan's eyes on his ass the whole time, hearing a lick of his lips once. For the upper part, he turns around, and Jordan's jaw drops to the floor. „Damn, you are shredded.“ Poor Bob can’t help himself but blush and the stupid yet genuine comment.
Before Terry can wake up they are in Jordan's car, hitting the road, but that is not where Jordan's eyes are fixed.
„What?”
„I’m just jealous my clothes look better on you than they do on me.” After a while, a comfortable yet static silence settles between them, both having so many questions. As Jordan is about to ask one, Bob takes the word before he can. „Sorry, I’m just not in the mood to talk, okay? Later.”
Jordan can live with later, so he is not poking. Bob, on the other hand, feels bad since he is the one who agreed to the ride.
„What about you? You a dealer or something? Was that guy an unsatisfied customer?”
„No, no drugs, I’m a life coach actually.” Bob can’t hold back a giggle, the conviction in his voice not making it better. „So you are one of those dudes that tell you that meditation and waking up at 5 am is the answer to aaaaaall your problems?” Bob definitely hit a nerve here. Jordan's lips form into a thin line, his eyes widen, then turn into a hard glare.
„First of all, it is way more complicated than that. Some people need years, if not decades of practice…” Bob really wants to listen, and for the first five minutes or so he does, the second his head rests against the car window, admiring the lights of the traffic, the streetposts, and the apartment windows they pass. They lure him to sleep in no time.
At first Jordan doesn’t notice and goes on and on and on until a snore catches his attention. He should be pissed, he really should, but how? The rain has stopped, and given the high temperatures, the humidity causes Bob's curls to turn even more curly. There is already a stain of saliva on his shirt, and he looks just so peaceful. So all Jordan does is take a deep breath and reach behind him for a jacket.
The second he draped it over Bob, he clung to it, curling up like a newborn. Mindful not to wake him, he brushed the strand of hair that covers half of his face behind his hair. So it doesn’t tickle him, not because Jordan wants a better view of Bob's face, that would be absurd. On the other hand, what in his life wasn’t right now?
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Thank you for reading! I hope you had a good time! ❤️❤️❤️🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼❤️❤️❤️
Hello! I am back from vacation and on my laptop once more! Here is a snippet from my miles miller x lewis ford modern au fanfic. Starting at the ending because that's what my brain felt like writing. 1,214 words of a happy Miles. 😊 Enjoy!
On the border of Nevada and California, Miles Miller sat outside the El Royale with the entirety of his worldly possessions and waited for his boyfriend to pick him up and take him home.
Home.
Not his mother's tiny mobile home in Indiana, and certainly not his room in the back of the motel where he had been sleeping for the last year and a half. No, home was now a place he'd never been, a house in Northern California with a bedroom, an office, a proper kitchen and a sunny backyard. Ford had asked him to move in a few weeks ago, now that Miles had met the prerequisites for an online Bachelor's degree, as well as having a job lined up at the VA medical center. It was nothing fancy, just administrative work, but it was leagues beyond his hospitality position at the El Royale, and it meant that he could continue to save up for school.
Miles smiled a little at referring to his boyfriend by his last name in his thoughts. It was habit by this point — everybody called Ford by his last name, even his closest friends. Only his parents and Miles had the honor of using his first name, Lewis, and Miles often went one step further and called him Lew — Lew-Lew if he was being cute.
Ford was the sort of boyfriend who let Miles be cute without making him feel like less than a man for it.
Had it only been six months since they met at this very motel? It felt like they had known one another much longer than that. Or maybe Miles's life had changed so much afterwards that his past felt like a lifetime ago. He had friends now, and a therapist, and proper medication, and financial support from the institution that had broken him in the first place.
And Ford, of course, who had supported him every step of the way. God, he loved his boyfriend so much.
The one thing he didn't love was the distance between them. Twice a month visits and nightly video chats simply weren't enough, which is why when Ford asked him to move in, he had agreed without a second thought. He had given way too much of himself to this decrepit motel already, and he had no love for Nevada, the state that had witnessed his free fall after being honorably discharged from the army, with no safety net to catch him.
Indiana wasn't an option, either. Not after leaving the church.
He used to think that he was permanently damned, cut off from eternal salvation on the technicality of being gay. Most days he didn't believe that he was destined for Hell anymore. Especially not the days that he spent with his boyfriend.
And now that would be every day.
A familiar silver SUV pulled into the El Royale's parking lot, and Miles leapt to his feet. Ford stepped out, gorgeous as always in a wool peacoat turned up against the unseasonable chill in the air. "Heard someone needed a ride," he said with a small smile, which Miles knew on anyone else would be a besotted grin.
Miles didn't bother to answer, simply throwing himself into his boyfriend's arms and burying his face in the crook of his neck.
Ford wrapped his arms around him immediately. "Missed you," he said quietly, without any sort of pretense.
Miles took a deep breath of Ford's warm, familiar scent, and tried not to cry. "Missed you, too, Lew."
Ford gave him a minute, one of his hands reaching up to gently run through his curls. "You're growing your hair out," he said approvingly, like Miles hadn't already sent him a selfie that morning of his longer bangs, no longer smoothed back into that "professional" style that motel management had insisted upon. "Looks good on you."
Miles made a muffled sound of gratitude, then pulled back to gaze at his boyfriend adoringly. He looked the same: beautiful blond hair brushed back, a faint stubble on his chin, his scars and birthmarks making him even more handsome. Instead of saying any of this, Miles put his thoughts in a kiss, a proper one that Ford returned, quickly turning his knees to jelly.
"We need to get going before I forget what I'm doing here," Ford teased when they finally parted. His voice was steady, but there was a flush to his cheeks, and his blue eyes sparkled with affection.
"Yeah..." Miles agreed absently, even though all he wanted to do was kiss his boyfriend some more. He cleared his throat and stepped back, gesturing to the pair of plastic storage bins on the curb and his duffle bag resting on top. “I’m all packed.”
Ford raised an eyebrow before popping open the trunk of his car. "That's everything?"
Miles nodded, picking up his duffle so that Ford could put the bins in the trunk. "Never bothered settling in much. Most of that one bin's the stuff you sent me, anyway."
"I figured." Ford shut the trunk and opened the passenger door for Miles, like a gentleman. "I made space for all that at home, and your books."
Miles held back tears for the second time in only a few minutes. "Thanks." He pressed a kiss to Ford's cheek and then buckled himself into his seat, duffle held in his lap.
Ford came around to the other side and started the car. "We'll stop somewhere for lunch, I'm assuming you haven't eaten yet.”
Miles bit his lip to hide a smile, knowing that his boyfriend was using this as an excuse to treat him. "No, sir."
"Don't start with me, Miller, I'm driving." Ford cut him an amused look before pulling out of the parking lot. "Nice hoodie, by the way. Pretty sure that's mine."
That's because it was Ford's. It was too big on Miles, but he didn't care, snuggling into the dark fabric. "You left it last time you were here. I'm not returning it."
Ford chuckled and turned onto the highway. "Suit yourself."
The El Royale shrank rapidly in the rear view mirror and Miles sighed in relief, already finding it easier to breathe.
Like the motel, the old interstate had seen better days, and Miles's duffle jangled with every bump the in the road. "What do you have in there that's making that funny noise?" Lew asked after the third time It happened.
Miles smiled sheepishly and pulled out the reception bell from El Royale's front desk.
Ford burst into laughter. "Jesus Christ! You swiped the bell?!"
"I did." Miles giggled, holding it up proudly like a badge of honor. "I figured I'd spare my replacement the agony, at least until management gets a new one."
"Very thoughtful of you." Ford cast him another quick, affectionate glance. "I'm real glad you're coming home with me, Milly, but I'm even more glad that you're leaving that shithole behind. You deserve so much better than that."
"I know." Miles blushed softly, putting the bell away and settling more comfortably in the passenger seat. "You tell me all the time."
"That's because you need to hear it."
The motel was long gone by now, nothing ahead but his future. Miles was very much looking forward to it.
good men die too (so i’d rather be with you) [on ao3]
"Walker." Bob abruptly stops in his tracks, hands shoved in his pockets. The wind picks up in the distance, trees shuffle around them. "How come you always know what I'm thinking?"
"You are not that difficult to read."
"Or maybe you look too closely."
John turns to him with an unreadable look on his face, "At you? Always."
or,
Bob is sure he fell into the picture perfect depiction of right person, wrong time. After all, fate has a knack for tricks and choosing the worst possible time to bring people together.
[ ⏮ previous round - winner: boxer shorts ]
[ 🔞 get around john and view the final image here or on ao3 ]
thanks everyone!!! there will be another, dirtier bonus image next weekend! if work doesn't kill me lol
In 2004, Yelena Belova is reeling from the recent loss of her sister, believed to be a suicide; Ava Starr is just trying to keep her crush under wraps; and Bucky Barnes, head of the theology department, wants his favorite students to survive their last year of college and, hopefully, make it out alive.
Or: There's a killer on campus, two girls fall in love for the first time, and one tired professor wishes kids would stop breaking into his office.
