I promise - Part 3 (Laundry and Swings)
Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolt!Reader
Click here for all chapter links of this series!
Word Count: About 4.7k...yummy <3
Summary: After your trips to the grocery-store and bookstore, Bob and you foster a domestic routine and begin to get "awfully" comfortable with one another. Due to this, Bob panics a little more than much and the natural conclusion of this is you two rocking upon swings. During deadly hours of the night, of course.
Warning: Slight cursing, Reader emulates mom/dad-friend core and Iâve attempted to make Reader as gender neutral as possible (Do lemme know if Iâve went âehâ somewhere- Do so kindly though, please <3).
Ramble: Hey, people... (like that Shawn Mendes meme) <3 It's been a few- I do have an excuse though. I literally got food poisoning and then my period after recovering from that- And a little before all of this, I had finally finished my exams. I blame this upon that curse you get when writing fan-fiction, ugh- I do hope you enjoy this part, though! Thank you for the support upon the prior parts. I truly appreciate it <3
The Laundry Part and Tea and Pizza:
âBob! Check around for any loose laundry, please!â You shouted as you completed a load.
Sifting through the excess laundry the team had ever so intentionally left behind was quite the mission itself. A mission probably more exhausting than theirs in an eternally gloomy and sorrowful London.  You knew the thought was dramatic, yet your mind recalled the fact Yelena, over text, had disclosed the fact the group wasnât up to much. They sipped upon too much champagne within their first night at a gala and sipped less champagne for days after that. The fantasy of regulating your champagne consumption while partaking in gossip with the supposed âupperâ class seemed so seraphic in contrast to ensuring Johnâs black socks werenât later confused for Buckyâs black socks or even possibly Yelenaâs black sockâŠor Avaâs. You mentally thanked Alexei and Bob for purchasing a mass of patterned socks and your beautiful brain for thinking of assigning everyone different colour laundry baskets. Otherwise, you knew the tower, across all floors, would have been filled with argument about who possesses a particular set of socks and that debate would involve calling someone âBig Footâ.
âIâm looking! Oh, do you want me to bring this sweater of yours?â Bob shouted in response. His words were swallowed into his throat. He didnât want the volume of his voice to be anything close to threatening.
âUgh, I donât know. Itâs my only one until this load is done.â
âYou can use one of mine. I donât mind!â He offered. His volume slightly lower, indicating that he was heading to the room already.
The laundry room itself wasnât most spacious. In truth, it was definitely larger than your prior apartmentâs combined kitchen and living room, yet the immense amount of the wall of washers and dryers gave the room a tight and thick feel. You definitely knew Valentina didnât plan for the penthouse to accommodate more than three. Upon the second day of the tower hosting you and Bob, four men arrived without providing explanation and with boxes in hand. Bob kept a careful eye upon the men as he let his cereal drown in milk while you took a call from Mel. She had explained the situation which left you somewhat relieved. You then told Bob that it was okay to drop his observation and eat. You didnât feel grateful as one should for the thought of providing much needed house equipment. Not when your will to be a good roommate was this misused.
Bob, with various sweaters and gloves in hand, walked in. He dumped the hefty pile into Alexeiâs assigned red basket. He assumed a seat next to you. Your legs were crossed as you watched the laundry toss in a redundant circular motion. He brought his knees to his chest, allowing you both more space to breath. His postured compressed itself, more than the typical. His face was directly beside yours.
âThat vanilla scent isâŠcomforting.â
âThen you get to be comforted all the time.â You joked, offering more sincerity than tease.
âAll the time? Thatâs wonderful.â He nodded. His lips formed a small smile. Through the low lighting of the room, his eyes became delicately stellated.
âQuestion. I know vanilla is my scent and Iâm letting everyone be sorta of branded by it. Yet, what scent would you want to be individually yours? Like, whatâs your idealistic perfume?â You asked one of those questions. The type of question that provided a space for Bob to offer a bit of his soul to you while knowing said bit of his soul would be kept safe and tended to. He found himself ignited by the question. It asked for something he hadnât over-thought of yet and an answer that heâd discovered as he spoke.
âHm, thatâs a cool question. I think Iâd like to smell like a book with notes of coffee andâŠvanilla. You havenât copyrighted the scent, so Iâm stealing it. Just a little.â He squinted his eyes. His dark brows lowered. You knew the motion was meant to be humorous, but your body melted into the sight.
âYou smell like that already, Bob.â You poked his shoulder. The motion caused laughter to erupt from his chest. The room and its size isolated the sound. Suddenly you were glad you were doing laundry.
âThen I donât need perfume.â His face neared yours in faux mockery.
âShow off.â Your voice lowered. You could see the effect of doing so upon his features. Bobâs lips pressed themselves inwards. An unstable, deep exhale escaped him. Despite the baggy state of his sweater, you could see his chest rise and fall rapidly. It felt unbelievably sinister to revel in the sight, yet it felt right. It felt right to you.
A beep disturbed the concentrated air. Due to automatic response, you rose and clicked away at the machine to stop beeping.
âBob, this Avaâs stuff. Could you hold out her purple basket while I toss the clothes in, please?â
âSure.â The word barely left him as he stood up himself.
Once finalising the teamâs laundry, the sun already hid away in slumber. Your soul felt slumber call it upon seeing the couch appear ever so comfy, yet the day of laundry meant you and Bob had consumed little sustenance. That was not good. Thus, you had ordered pizza to keep it simple. You could shove the slices lazily into your mouth which was a benefit.
During the while you two awaited an over-supply of pizza, you both took to showering. Bob finished a little earlier than you. Despite the surplus of sweaters you had waiting for you in your grey basket, he thought to offer you a sweater of his as promised. He left it upon the couch. Bob then decided to conjure a cup of tea for you. He noticed you downed one, no matter the heat, before dinner daily. He recalled your preferences as prescribed at the bookstore and took to accommodating that as much as possible. Once you left your room in pyjamas he attempted to not mentally deem adorable, he held out the steaming mug. Your head tilted as your brows crossed into amusement. His hands practically palmed over the hot surface.
âI do forget youâre practically resistant to heat.â You laughed lightly. âThank you.â You offered him a smile you couldnât resist giving. You fisted your dominant hand around the handle, taking an immediate sip.
His eyes observed you expectantly. Bob hoped he at least made something pleasant to drink. Furthermore, he just wanted to make something that youâd enjoy. He believed you deserved it after all your hard work.
Once you had taken your first sip, you couldnât stop. You couldnât believe it. He made an exact replica of your prescribed ideal tea recipe. The taste and temperature were far better than any cup youâve ever made.
After letting out a low hum indicating that you were pleased, you blurted out your compliments.
âWhat the heck, Bob? This is awesome. Are you sure you donât have barista powers or something? Wouldnât be surprised. Gods, this was more than tea. It was like some medicine that made my exhaustion hurt less. Now I just feel a really good kind of sleepy.â You settled the mug upon the counter. âI need this every evening. I plea, please.â You placed your hands to together to which he immediately tugged down with a wide smile upon his lips.
âIâm glad and Iâll be glad to make you cup every evening. I wonât forget it.â His hands lingered upon yours for longer than co-workers should. Yet, living in a tower wasnât typical of co-workers, hence this could be excused.
In discordance with what your cold hands wouldâve preferred, Bob pulled his hands away and headed for the couch. âGot you that sweater I promised. I can see the goosebumps on your skin.â
âAw, thank you.â Your phone buzzed, indicating that your unhealthy dinner awaited you just a few floors below. âIâll be back with our much-needed sustenance.â You had begun walking to the elevator.
âWait- Itâs going to be colder down there.â He threw the sweater to you, knowing your hands would automatically catch it.
âThank you, again.â You smiled as you wrestled the clothing piece on. You then took to entering the elevator.
When the doors closed, Bob exhaled out harshly. It was already taking to maintain oneâs posture upon seeing more than a slither of their teammateâs upper body. What really got him was the fact you were wearing his clothes. He had reasons for this, yet he kept said reasons to race within his mind rather than confessing them through his lips.
After boxes of peperoni pizza to feed your scientifically altered diet, you slouched against the couchâs back, knees to your chest. You laughed with immense exhaustion laced into the sound. Your body betrayed its needs. It believed this betrayal was a valid requirement. A requirement that enabled you to hear Olivia Rodrigo be comical with ease and Bobâs humoured sighs in response. Throughout the nights you two spent upon the sofa alone, you realised he absorbed himself into any show or movie through his usage of minimal reaction and frequent silence. However, he didnât mind when you offered commentary. Your commentary made the most slow-paced of scenes worth watching. Through another round of your laughter, you yawned.
âItâd be dumb to ask if youâre sleepy.â
âBut youâre kinda...askingâŠanyways.â
âYea, but Iâm kinda suggesting the idea of getting some sleep.â His face shifted to face yours directly. Bob widened his eyes to appear playfully demanding. Their colour was of a tranquil greenish blue that absorbed the stark, alternating light of the TV. Your mind brushed off the heavy weight placed upon your eyelids and absolutely devoured what was before you.
âI like being like this though.â Your lips formed a languid smile.
âWatching Olivia Rodrigo revive SNLâs career while munching upon cold pizza is worth losing sleep over?â His brows raised, curious.
âNo, Bob. YouâŠyou are worthâŠâ Your words left you before realisation. You yawned again, burying your head into a dreadfully soft pillow. It was only dreadful because it made sleep come easy.
Your body sunk into slumber despite mental resistance. Your body rested itself against a soft surface. A surface that felt firmer and more comfortable than pillows. Its fabric was of cotton and not of harsher thread. Your eyes fluttered. In little flickers you saw blurs of illuminating TV light and some sort of blanket wrapping around you. The TVâs intensity lessened as you no longer heard the redundancy of a laughing track and barely edited jokes.
âIf youâre saying what I think you are, I hope you know youâre worth it too. Whatever it isâŠand shall be.â You heard a voice whisper above your head, dreamy and affectionate with a sense of bright hope. Hearing Bobâs voice was merely produced by your dream. The one whereby you saw an Oompa Loompa give Charlie a tour while a thousand Willy Wonkaâs wrapped an infinite amount of chocolate bars stamped with a golden ticket.
The Swing Part and Void-like Chaos:
Your once plain oak desk now had a computer system that was far too modernised for the polished wood it sat upon. Your fingers traced over the keyboard, merely to produce the satisfying clicks. Thatâs why you had purchased it. Not for practicality, but for enjoyment. Due to your current and atypical form of employment, you werenât self-required to hack about. Now Valentina provided you with the technology to access practicality anything, even restricted government documents. It felt too easy. A former version of you would have become an experiment once more to possess such technology, if it called for it. However, you now feltâŠdiscontent at such ease. To remedy your longing for what once excited you, you took to observing your room. Despite the books, posters and everything that assumed you from IKEA, you felt bothered by the blocked window. You sent a proper email to Valentina requesting a repairman to resolve the situation, yet that damned automated AI reply fed into your frustration. The want for a pleasant sky and needed oxygen proposed itself to your brain. You decided to comply.
Once you opened your room-door, the lack of light startled you. You didnât realise how late into the evening it was. You blamed the materials blocking your âviewâ within your room. As per solely part of the benefits of living within a tower, the moon was postured too close to your view. It was as though you couldâve taken a flight of a few hours to become the first âThunderboltâ upon the moon. However, even if that were the case, you wouldnât have done it. The moon held its beauty because it wasnât made to be traversed upon. It wasnât the Earth. It was just the moon. The moonlight settled steady upon the furniture it chose to ignite. Due to the geometric nature of the penthouseâs interior, the shapes of the shadows proved linear and sharp. If you paid too much attention, itâd unnerve you. This then contribute your desire to talk an irresponsible night walk.
You pulled your phone from the counter, immediately shoving it into your pocket. Your hands snagged your headphones that snuggled itself into the pillows of the couch. You decided listen to 5SOSâs 5 Seconds of Summer album for nostalgic purpose.
You sighed, melting into lyrics already. Your thumb was close to clicking upon the play button until you heard an uncomfortable grunt from Bobâs room. Without much thinking or hesitation, you practically slid upon the white tile and knocked upon his roomâs door. After a singular round of knocking, the door opened to reveal a dishelleved Bob. His waves curtained his features. Despite this, you noticed the inconsistent flickering in his eyes. A green most deep and unnatural alternated to a blue so close to white.
âHey.â He exhaled out, exhausted and embarrassed.
âHiâŠdo you need anything? Be honest, even if itâs brutal.â
âJust some company, but you look busy with those headphones.â
Without word, you brought the set down to rest upon your shoulders.
âThere. Not busy anymore.â
He offered a weak smile, turning to the side. His stiff posture while holding the door indicated that you should probably accept his unspoken invitation.
His room wasâŠconsumed, if one could put it that way. The walls opposite his bed were filled with shelves and towers of books without shelves. His nightstand held the weight of even more books and half-finished bag of sour worms. The sole item or items upon his desk were cases of water-bottles. The walls his bedframe rested against had variating lighting displays. All from IKEA and all were currently on. The floor, however, was free of blockage, allowing for ease to pace upwards and downwards. Thatâs what he did as you rested against his closet.
âYouâre allowed to leave whenever you want.â Bob proposed, disturbing the low silence.
âAm I allowed to stay for as long as you want?â You asked, not wanting to leave until he felt steady.
His fisted hands loosened. His pacing slowed. His body turned to you, partially. He kept a bit of himself away from your view.
âIâd like thatâŠso donât put it like that. Youâre welcome to do so.â
âThank you.â You nodded, lips compressing inwards as an uncertain motion of whether to smile or not.
Bob observed you for a moment, trying to ground himself. The floor beneath him didnât feel solid enough. The walls were alive, inching closer between seconds. His clothes drenched in sweat and dried tears. The feeling of shame stuck to his skin. Despite the instability, you were present. Ever so real and kind. To him, one must possess immense kindness to not pity him. You were there for him and that was starker than lazy comments conveying pity. Thatâs what he appreciated about you.
âCould we sit upon the bed? You sit however you want and Iâll follow.â His body shifted, exposing more himself to you. His hands, as per nature would have it, fidgeted with the loose threads of his sweater. âI know itâs an awkward request, but standing is blurring my vision.â
âItâs alright. Iâm ready to test my theory about our beds being different.â You joked, hoping itâd remedy even a slither of his panic.
He exhaled out his laughter unsteadily. As per his request you sat upon the bed, ensuring your legs were to the floor. You werenât one to ever let your shoes make contact with the bed. Bob followed as per his request, assuming a seat next to you. Knowingly, you both let your shoulders fall upon the otherâs. The contact supplied both of you with a rush. The sort of rushing that makes one forget their sorrows for a little bit. You observed Bob, noting his chest rise and fall more regularly. His waves, due to the many lighting displays, were toasted with a gentle glow, thus inclining your hand to tuck away a strand brushing against his eyelashes. Suddenly the gentle motion threw you into a different setting. Before you could comprehend your surroundings, your lungs took irregular breaths which then transformed into intense coughs that escaped your throat. The air was suffocating quite literally. In this place, there were no walls and no floors. The impossible darkness was solid and infinite. By chance, within the benighted world, you saw glowing pupils. You wouldnât ever forget those, not after the teamâs escape from Bobâs mind. Upon recognition, your eyes could trace a silhouette. Bobâs but not quite. You knew who that was. The Void.
âI spared you of your shame-rooms.â The voice once arrogantly shallow and hollow now appeared toâŠflicker?
âReally? Sounds like youâre tired.â
âHeâs been sleeping pretty good to me. Itâs solely tonight heâs been disturbed.â You emphasised your conclusion, wanting the Void to acknowledge his doing in front you. You already knew he had purpose in his actions. âMust have saved up some energy to do this to him.â You mocked, gently and simultaneously rude. You were solely gentle as you knew some part of Bob, sub-consciously or entirely conscious, absorbed this interaction.
âYou say some energy like itâs not more than what he has.â
âUnlike you, he knows what he has and appreciates it. Perhaps you could learn.â
âI have nothing to learn from you.â
âThen why am I here? I know you pulled me into this poorly decorated room of yours for a reason.â
You were given an answer of silence. The realisation slithered across your skin.
âYouâre scared. Scared that youâre wavering.â
Silence lingered once more. It stretched until your vision was freed of the benighted environment. You felt a hold upon your wrist. It soon let go once your arm landed upon the bedâs mattress. Once you realised yourself to be placed back into reality after resolving your coughing, you turned your focus to Bob. Bob who had his brows crossed in aching confusion. His body compressed itself, knees to his chest. His arms laced themselves around his legs, withholding himself from making physical contact with you. A different silence consumed your environment now. It wasnât an answer. It was a product of not possessing an exact definition for whatever that wasâŠwhatever occurred within the literal void. The undefined nature of the occurrence-imposed fear upon you both. You didnât feel fear because of Bob. You felt fear because you didnât know what just happened and Bob wasnât saying anything.
âI didnât thinkâŠI shouldâve known. I shouldâve known.â Bob mumbled, providing no context.
âThis is the first time I remember itâŠâ His voice shook. His head shoved itself into his knees.
You knew he wasnât hearing you at all. His thoughts consumed his senses. You waited until something happened. You werenât going to leave him alone. Not when you knew he was disturbed.
His body had begun shaking and so had everything else in his room. You werenât afraid to touch him, Bob, yet you werenât certain as to whom you were interacting with in the moment. Sentury or the Void presented themselves as possibilities too, hence you knew you had to get Bob back. You connected your headphones to your phone, already selecting the playlist you now titled âGroceries and Bobâ. You blasted the volume, placing the phone as close to him as you could. Afterwards, you let yourself slide off the bed. Being against his closest, embedded into the wall, appeared most safe for now.
The unstable motion of the walls and floor made you feel uneasy; hence you closed your eyes and hoped the music would work. Hoping youâd get Bob back. Once a minute of the song passed, the shaking motion of the room had eased. You opened your eyes and saw it. Bob held your phone against his chest, almost protecting the thing from falling away like everything else did. His eyes were closed until the song executed its final note. His eyes fluttered open, unsure if his surroundings were real and actual.
You lifted your weight from the closet, standing up again. You settled yourself to be within his vision, but not too close in case he required the space to breathe.
âHeyâŠyouâre okay.â You assured him, attempting to dissolve any internal doubt of his.
âAre you okay?â He asked as his focus tossed between you and the now unkept state of his room.
âIâm okay.â You stated, not quite lying yet you were concealing enough for temporary comfort.
As his sight settled from observing his surroundings, Bob focused upon your phone within his hand. You saw how terrible he felt immediately. His eyes dropped to ignited screen. His grip loosened upon the case. His hands still shook, contemplating how to return your phone back to you. You felt your heart compressed uncomfortably. He was about to overthink and needed a distraction.
âI have an idea, if youâre up to it. We both need some air, so how about a walk?â
âIâd like thatâŠâ He nodded, pressing his lips inwards in contemplation. âHereâs your phone.â
You offered him a smile you knew he needed and liked before taking your phone back.
âI did suggest a walk, so we didnât have to talk about whatever you didnât or donât want to talk about. But I couldnât help but notice that solely your room wasâŠI donât think thereâs a correct word for it, but here I goâŠnot quite normal. The entirety of the tower, at least upon our level was totally fine.â You commented, finding your way around the ups and downs of the sometimes sunken and sometimes slightly raised pavement. Perhaps you could offer a proposition to Valentina whereby she can fix the uneven pavement with her infinite income which could gain public preference. This proposition would also provide you with a means of feeling decreased motion sickness. Truly a practical win for all.
âAre you saying that to assure me? Because if you are-â
âYes, and Iâm also informing you that you have more control over your powers now than you think, so thatâs that. Moving on unless you donât want to move on. Your call.â
âIâll move onto something elseâŠthe park. Why are we going there?â
The park was empty, rightfully so at this strange hour of the night. If you two didnât possess abnormal abilities to protect yourselves, itâd be wilfully foolish to be here. The grass was unevenly trimmed, some blades of grass tall and others drying at the root. It wasnât the most pleasant sight to the eye, yet the place had swings. A suitable pair of two rocking tranquilly in accordance with the wind.
You both assumed a swing. You laced your fingers around the chains, already rocking back and forth. Bob wrapped his arms entirely around the chains, legs treading close to the ground. His shoes created crumble-like sounds. It proved soothing either due to childhood nostalgia or just knowing he was by your side â ever so easily agreeing to rock upon swings.
The moonlight solely illuminated you as you rocked higher and higher each time, already gaining a rapid motion. Bob watched in amazement. His sight couldnât resist in-taking the sight of your features melting into the cool, neutral lighting. It remedied any remaining internal panic.
âHave you always liked rocking up that high?â He asked, adoring your will to trust a swing that much.
âNope. Iâd literally sob every-time I was rocked too harshly. Then I grew up and realised I had control of how far I could go by my own force. I just had to trust myself.â The volume of your tone was inconsistent as you now practically lunged far too forward without falling.
âHow do you trust yourself?â
âThereâs a decision to do so firstly, at least for me. Then you realised how far youâve made it and realise youâve always trusted yourself. The reason you didnât realise that was because you faulted your choices to fear way too much.âÂ
âSoâŠas they say, doing it scared isâŠactually still trusting yourself?â
âOf course. Youâre trusting yourself to do it regardless.â
âThatâs good advice, Professor Wise.â Bob had begun rocking himself upon the swing with greater force than before.
âThank you, Mister Wise Guy.â You slightly slowed down, falling into his rhythm of going backwards and forwards.
After rounds of rocking upon the swings, whether consumed by conversation or comfortably silent, the sun had begun rising. Its absurdly already bright rays of light told you two to head back to the tower. You two jumped off your swings, treading upon the path of uneven pavement again. Due to the rudely bright lighting, Bobâs brown waves now appeared golden. It reminded you of Sentury. You didnât realise that you were staring that much until he enveloped his wrist with his hand.
âOh, sorry. You just lookâŠpretty.â You said, not knowing how it sounded due to your bewilderment.
âMe? Sure.â Bob grumbled, not with malice. The tone was faulted to his self-deprecating tendencies. As per normality, you couldnât stand it.
âDonât do that. Youâre pretty like all the time.â You stepped in front of him, walking backwards. The motion provided you with peculiar confidence.
âYou just are. Also, handsome Iâll add.â You grinned, biting your lip. You soon felt as though as fuck-boy, so you immediately dropped the look and motioned your lips into a kind smile.
âYouâreâŠall of that too.â He smiled shyly, looking to the ground purposefully. He wanted his waves to hide his mostly blushing face.
âGood thing weâre teammates, co-workers and roommates.â You were going to add friend, but this conversation didnât feel friendly. Not that complimenting your friend was always romantic.
âGood for Valentinaâs possible PR too.â You added, recalling the recommendations to do Instagram lives as you spoke with Mel. Mel did sound hesitant about that though.
âAs long as weâre not attending fashion shows, then Iâm good.â He sighed, puffing out his cheek as he did so. The mere thought of one seemed to terrify him.
âThough, the idea of attending a movie premiereâŠâ You proposed while gesturing about with finger-guns.
âThatâd be awesome, but Iâd assume weâd need fancy clothes.â
âI mean, we could always give immense instruction about that. Itâs not like Valentina can stop us, otherwise weâre seriously going to do Instagram live and then expose her.â You laughed, now suddenly interested in all the stupid filters thatâd be placed upon as the group as theyâd describe what occurred in the vault. You could already hear Yelena and Alexei burst into laughter they didnât know sounded so alike when trying the bunny one.
âOne day thereâll be a video essay.â He tilted his head stiffly, cringing at the idea of how that possible thumbnail could be designed.
âOo, that gives me an idea of what to watch for tonight.â
The conversation then blended into conversating about dinner, then about breakfast you two had forgotten and then how you two would spend all day reading.
