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freak-accident419 · 2 months ago

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thank you so much for reading 💕💕 also omg what a coincidence I forgot brokeback mountain was released in 2005

'i wish you were a girl'

Rhett Abbott x Reader

Summary: Rhett comes to you for help. You always had this weird relationship with him—a weird in-between of platonic and romantic. However, Rhett had a reputation to hold, meaning you could never go too far with him. The worst part, however, is that he truly likes you as much as you do.

Word Count: 1.1k

Content: (drabble-ish), non-woman!reader, male!reader, non-binary!reader, genderqueer!reader, inspired by 'as you are' film, influenced by 'brokeback mountain' film, are they lovers? worse, closeted Rhett Abbott, forbidden love, no happy ending (feel free to request a 2nd part), kissing, comfort, cuddling, events canon to the show, this is my pride month fic xx

Rhett Abbott was straight.

At least that's what the default assumption was in Wabang, Wyoming.

It was a western, conservative territory. Otherwise, there was an unspoken "don't ask, don't tell" etiquette among townsfolk. It wasn't too much of a burden to be queer, considering there was an out lesbian as the Deputy Sheriff. But that didn't mean Joy Hawk hadn't faced any hardships at all because of it.

Rhett Abbott was raised to be a "real man." He instantly got fixated on the concept of bull riding in his childhood and he was always teased by his elders whenever there was a girl his age right next to him.

There was nothing wrong with being queer. Rhett was taught to be respectful and kind, and that's what the Abbott family was all about. But if Rhett was queer? It was never a conversation. He was "too masculine, too much of a ladies' man" to be, so there were no concerns there.

Surely enough, that statement would soon be challenged once you came into the picture.

You were Rhett's close friend, knowing him for a few years now. It all started with you helping him shotgun a Miller Lite at a lively bonfire party. He fucked up with the first can and wound up spilling it all over the ground. As you witnessed his pathetic endeavor, you decided to assist him with a new can, puncturing the hole for him. Obviously, you both got drunk that evening, but Rhett seemed to be more hammered than you. The friends he came with were nowhere to be seen, so you stayed with him the entire time, driving him home once you finally sobered up. Ever since that night, you never left his side.

But that was years ago. Now, you had a much deeper connection, one that was more unconventional than anything. Don't take this the wrong way, it was beautiful. But it also wasn't comprehensible. It reached places farther than just friendship, yet it didn't quite meet the criteria for a real, romantic relationship either.

There was one thing for certain, however. Rhett Abbott simply couldn't be with you. It was well known—rather, well assumed—that he was straight.

So he didn't question this very moment; his head on your lap as you stroke his brown locks. Apparently, Rhett got into serious trouble. He wasn't specific about it as he blabbered to you in a panic, but he also knew you weren't the kind to pry. You would just do things for him without asking.

"Will you be my alibi for last night?" You could hear the urgency over the phone just through his anxious inflection.

He needed you. "Yeah. Sure."

And so, he came to your place in pursuit of solace. And you provided. After all, that's what friends were for.

Rhett lightly shifted his position on the couch, continuing to revel in your touch. His blue eyes bore into the wooden wall across from him, feeling the stress from his brother's actions slowly fading away.

He knew he shouldn't feel anything for you. He knew it wasn't right, to fall for his close friend. He knew it wasn't right to fall for someone like you.

"You okay?"

But he couldn't help it.

"What?" Rhett huffs in alert, slightly turning his head to face you.

Your hand that was in his hair lightly pushed him back in position to convey he had nothing to worry about. "You've been quiet," you mumble, gentle fingers continuing its ministrations, "something else bothering you?"

The man on your lap sighs deeply. "Everything's just so fucked up," he mutters bitterly, almost nuzzling your thigh with the slight stir of his nose.

Rhett was six feet tall, weighing around 150 pounds. He would frequently work on the ranch, having his fair share of chores. He would get into bar fights and he rode bulls for a living. But none of that mattered right now; he felt like the smallest person on earth as long as he was in your arms.

"Thank you for doing this," he mumbles, shutting his eyes briefly in exhaustion, "I know it's very... inconvenient."

"Yeah, well," you scoff softly, "you should know by now that I'm used to your troublemaking tendencies."

He let out a quiet chuckle in response, inhaling deeply in order to ground himself.

"Mm. Yeah," he sighs, before a bittersweet thought crossed his mind. "What would I do without you?"

Rhett sat up, untangling from your arms. He was beside you on the couch, searching your eyes with a hint of desperation. He needed to be close to you.

He felt like a magnet. It felt like you were falling—an excruciatingly slow fall towards him. You weren't sure what came over you, because your face moved closer and closer to his until your lips touched.

He kissed back.

You were kissing Rhett. And Rhett was kissing back.

Your hands were limp as your mouth moved with his, feeling his gentle, moist lips meshed with yours. He was lost in the sensation, exploring the foreign territory of intimacy with you. He kissed you deeply, his tongue already parting your mouth to taste you. Yet, while it felt like a millennium, the kiss concluded promptly.

Rhett sank back into his spot on the couch, and the two of you just stayed there motionless, processing what had just happened.

It's always been deemed so wrong, but it felt so right. He wasn't supposed to kiss a platonic friend. He wasn't supposed to kiss someone who wasn't a woman. He wasn't supposed to kiss you. No matter how much his body seemed to crave it.

Women were his forte, and that was the end of it. From childish crushes on girls in grade school, to hopeless yearning for Maria Olivares in high school, he's always liked women. And sure, his cowboy peers may have looked fairly attractive to him. And maybe that librarian always seemed to have a pretty smile on their face. But it didn't mean anything. There was no way it could have been sexual attraction. Rhett Abbott was straight. He had to be.

After all, everybody expects the bull-wrangling, church-going Abbott offspring to be a well-respected, good old fashioned role model of a man.

Rhett gulped, overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and regret as his next words would break the long streak of silence.

"I wish you were a girl," he murmured.

He wasn't looking at you, as his eyes were glued to the floor—glassy and scintillating.

You expected this of him. You knew it in your heart that you loved each other. But Rhett was stubborn and he had a reputation to hold. He never wanted to risk being a disappointment. Even if that meant hurting you.

"I'm sorry," he utters.

You always knew it was never going to work out.

"Me too."

You just didn't expect it to be this painful.

#Rhett abbott x reader #Rhett abbott #lewis pullman #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds

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freak-accident419 · 2 months ago

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'i wish you were a girl'

Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Rhett Abbott was straight.

At least that's what the default assumption was in Wabang, Wyoming.

Surely enough, that statement would soon be challenged once you came into the picture.

There was one thing for certain, however. Rhett Abbott simply couldn't be with you. It was well known—rather, well assumed—that he was straight.

"Will you be my alibi for last night?" You could hear the urgency over the phone just through his anxious inflection.

He needed you. "Yeah. Sure."

And so, he came to your place in pursuit of solace. And you provided. After all, that's what friends were for.

He knew he shouldn't feel anything for you. He knew it wasn't right, to fall for his close friend. He knew it wasn't right to fall for someone like you.

"You okay?"

But he couldn't help it.

"What?" Rhett huffs in alert, slightly turning his head to face you.

The man on your lap sighs deeply. "Everything's just so fucked up," he mutters bitterly, almost nuzzling your thigh with the slight stir of his nose.

"Thank you for doing this," he mumbles, shutting his eyes briefly in exhaustion, "I know it's very... inconvenient."

"Yeah, well," you scoff softly, "you should know by now that I'm used to your troublemaking tendencies."

He let out a quiet chuckle in response, inhaling deeply in order to ground himself.

"Mm. Yeah," he sighs, before a bittersweet thought crossed his mind. "What would I do without you?"

Rhett sat up, untangling from your arms. He was beside you on the couch, searching your eyes with a hint of desperation. He needed to be close to you.

He kissed back.

You were kissing Rhett. And Rhett was kissing back.

Rhett sank back into his spot on the couch, and the two of you just stayed there motionless, processing what had just happened.

After all, everybody expects the bull-wrangling, church-going Abbott offspring to be a well-respected, good old fashioned role model of a man.

Rhett gulped, overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and regret as his next words would break the long streak of silence.

"I wish you were a girl," he murmured.

He wasn't looking at you, as his eyes were glued to the floor—glassy and scintillating.

"I'm sorry," he utters.

You always knew it was never going to work out.

"Me too."

You just didn't expect it to be this painful.

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freak-accident419 · 2 months ago

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is it fair of me, as a non binary person, to ask for more gender neutral reader fics or should I go back in my corner

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freak-accident419 · 3 months ago

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happy pride!

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

here's what i believe each lew character's sexual orientation is:

bob floyd identifies as bisexual! in my own personal headcanon, his family has always been supportive. he's got a sister who's an out and proud lesbian, and another who's bisexual, so it felt natural for him to come to the conclusion that he was also bi, as he didn't have to face judgment from his family.

rhett abbott has a complicated relationship with sexuality, and he's still working to unlearn the puritan ideals and toxic masculinity instilled in him from birth. but, once he figures things out, he realizes he's bisexual.

robert reynolds doesn't really label it. he's attracted to girls, guys, and everyone in between.

miles miller is similar to robert, in that he doesn't label it. he's attracted to whoever his heart fancies!

ben mears is bisexual. in the book (ignoring the movie version) ben should've gotten together with dr. cody. i said what i said.

harrison knott is straight as they come. nothing fruity about him.

calvin evans has a different relationship with sexuality. obviously he lives in a time in history where it is not safe to explore one's sexuality publicly, but i think he would be open to girls and guys.

#happy pride month!#I love this so much

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freak-accident419 · 3 months ago

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hypothetically... if I were to write a Rhett Abbott x reader miniseries...

#lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader #bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #Rhett abbott #Rhett abbott x reader #Rhett abbott x you #outer range

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freak-accident419 · 3 months ago

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party 4 u

Rocco Gauthier x Reader

Summary: You attend a frenemy's pool party, only coming because your boyfriend Rocco was invited and wanted you to tag along. He doesn't know you're uncomfortable with the host because you didn't want to seem like the obnoxiously jealous partner. With only a few drinks to impair your judgement, you finally tell him what's wrong. Ensuring that you don't doubt him like this ever again, he finds a convincing way to reassure you. (Riff Raff Rocco x GN!Reader)

Word Count: 2.8k

Content: 18+ Smut, MDNI, gender-neutral reader, gender neutral language for reader, Lewis Pullman's Character Rocco from Riff Raff 2024, few uses of Y/n, graphic depictions of smut, pool party, jealousy, missionary, penetration (no specific genitalia for reader), creampie, reader is a bit insecure in here, random made-up side character for the sake of the plot, half-inspired by Charli XCX's 'party 4 u', I haven't finished the movie so I'm sorry if he is slightly ooc

Taglist: @funkyfable Happy reading! <3 Reblogs, comments and likes are much appreciated!

You didn't even want to come here in the first place.

As you looked around the colorful fluorescent lights that were reflected across the pool's surface, you felt like you were being judged. Watched. It made you feel so self-conscious.

Rocco was your boyfriend of several years. He loved and cared for you like any man should for his partner, except he was blind to one predicament you faced.

Your friend group was complicated. Well, not the whole group, but just one person in it. You didn't really get along with Leah. You tried to, you swore it, but it was just not meant to be. Complimenting, conversing about things you had in common, and friendly smiles just didn't seem to work. The primary issue was her crush on your boyfriend. She specifically despised you for dating Rocco, as you entered the friend group late as a result of becoming his partner.

She liked Rocco. Who wouldn't, though? He was charming, sexy, and incredibly sweet. You didn't blame her for crushing on him, after all she probably knew him longer than you did. However, respect goes both ways. She would flirt with him shamelessly, as if you weren't already his. And that terrified you. Leah was different. To you, she was prettier. Funnier. More extroverted and outgoing than you were. She could easily steal his heart with her charms, taking him away from you.

You never spoke to him about your concerns, however. You didn't want to seem like the typical jealous and insecure partner with major trust issues. Even when she would drunkenly admit to you how much she feels that she deserves your boyfriend more than yourself, you still felt like you didn't have the authority to call her out. You didn't want to be obnoxious. You didn't want to seem insecure. You didn't want to lose him.

So you stood there on the patio with your hard seltzer in hand, watching the two interact in the hot tub with the rest of your friends. You could see them laughing, joking, and it made your heart burn more than your throat did from the alcohol.

You didn't want to be here because of this. It was Leah's party, celebrating God knows what, and she invited Rocco. You even tried to give him excuses not to come with him, but he insisted, practically begging you to accompany him. Of course, you felt like you couldn't tell him about the whole Leah-wants-him-and-hates-you situation, so you eventually gave up on refusing. You were only here at this stupid party because of him. Not for her. Not for whatever the hell she was celebrating. But for him.

Your feet were sore. You hated distancing yourself like this, just standing here and being a witness to an imminent crime of thievery.

As the evening progressed, you drank enough alcohol to be more tipsy than before. From afar, you continued to see her flirt with your boyfriend, and you couldn't do anything about it. You felt glued to the ground. Stuck. As if your throat was restrained by barbed wire and your lips were sewn shut. It wasn't right for you to talk to Rocco about your concerns. You were just being dramatic. It wasn't a big deal. You were being a stupid, jealous, insecure partner. And if he found out about these feelings, he would break up with you and run into Leah's arms.

You couldn't handle watching this anymore. Her touching his shoulder, their shared laughter. Dammit. You dried your feet as you walked back inside the house.

After snickering at a joke, Rocco turned his head and noticed you disappearing inside. He barely interacted with you tonight, feeling both guilty and needy. Earlier, you told him how your migraine weakened any desire of entering either pools, so he didn't question your isolated state. But enough was enough, and he missed you. So he stood up, excusing himself out of the bubbling jacuzzi.

Inside, you gripped the handle of the refrigerator, opening it to find a bottle of water. Before you could take the cap off and hydrate yourself, you felt a pair of warm, large hands grasp your waist, as well as peppered kisses on the back of your neck. Rocco's chin rested on your shoulder, letting out a soft hum. "How're you feeling, baby? Better?"

You sigh in relief, enjoying the short-lived comfort of your boyfriend's affectionate embrace. "I'm fine," you answer quietly, finally sipping some water before placing it back in the fridge.

"Are you sure?" He presses a kiss to the side of your neck. "You look like there's something on your mind, babe."

You knew he wasn't the one at fault, you knew he was concerned for you, so you should've been kind to him. But just thinking about how he and Leah interacted with each other in the hot tub compelled you to be cold towards him. "I said I'm fine," you repeat indifferently, walking away from his arms.

Rocco huffs irritably, rushing after you. "Y/n. Don't be like that. Come on, you've been quiet and distant all night, what's wrong?"

"I told you, it's nothing," you run a hand through your damp hair in exhaustion, entering one of the guest rooms as you wished he would just leave you alone.

Suddenly, he grabbed your wrist gently to make you look at him, his deep blue eyes burning through yours. "I know when something's up, I'm your boyfriend, for fuck's sake. Just be real with me. Please," he nearly begs, eyebrows furrowed in desperation.

“Rocco, there’s nothing—”

"No, no, don't give me that 'nothing' bullshit—"

"I'm telling you the truth, there is no—"

“Y/n—"

“I’m serious, there’s nothing—”

“Goddammit, Y/n, just tell me what’s going on!”

“It’s Leah!” You exclaimed, the alcohol in your system and the intensity of the moment making it easier to confess. You felt a tinge of instant regret, knowing that Rocco would disapprove of your jealousy, and therefore be tempted to break up with you. Your eyes shut tightly in shame, sighing from fatigue. However, that scornful reaction you were expecting just didn’t happen.

Rocco pauses silently. "That's what this is about?" He mutters, searching your eyes for clarity.

“Yeah... I just..." you mumble before raising your voice, beginning to pace back and forth, "She likes you! And hell, everybody in our friend group knows that! And I really, truly, desperately tried getting along with her, but she's always hated me, and that’s because I’m dating you! And—and I don’t want to seem like the paranoid, jealous partner, but god, if only you heard the things she told me when you weren’t around!”

You finally ceased your pacing, standing in front of him with glassy, bloodshot eyes. “I didn't want to tell you all this because you would think I'm jealous and possessive, and then you would leave me for her... Hell, I'd get it if you did. For starters, she's known you longer than I do. She’s pretty, and charming—”

“Y/n—”

“And funny, and cool—”

“Y/n—”

“And I just can’t be at her level, so I’m sorry that I’m not good enough for—”

Rocco silences you by pressing his lips against yours in a brief, yet strong kiss. His face was close to yours as he spoke, "You're always gonna be good enough for me. Shit, you're way too good for me. If anything, I don't deserve you."

His hands were still gripping your shoulders from the kiss. “Look, I know that Leah likes me. It’s fucking obvious. I just figured that as long as she was respectful about our relationship, then we can keep being friends. But clearly, she hasn’t been, and I’m glad you told me about this. I’ll go talk to her soon. And if shit goes down, we’ll stop hanging out with her—the both of us. Okay?”

You frown, feeling a shameful pang of guilt. "I don't wanna be the reason your friendship with her is ruined, I don't—I don't want to affect your relationships just because you're with me."

"Baby, she's always been kind of an issue. I dealt with it in the beginning because I thought I could see past it, but clearly it's affecting you. And I don't like knowing how she makes you feel, directly or indirectly. You said she tells you about her feelings for me?"

You nod hesitantly, recalling the conversations you had with her. "Yeah. I mean, sometimes she would even make jokes about her stealing you from me—"

"Babe!" He exclaims, almost chuckling from how ridiculous that was. "Are you serious? You should've told me about this, I didn't know she says these kinds of things to you behind my back!"

"Yeah, well, that's why I didn't want to come. Just being around her makes me feel, I don't know... shitty about myself. I only came for you," you explain reluctantly. "I didn't want to seem paranoid and jealous to you, so I kept all that to myself. She knew I thought that way, too, so she always felt permitted to say anything about you to me... Riling me up on purpose."

Rocco huffs in exasperation, rubbing his forehead. "Fuck... I'm so sorry, baby, I should've seen the signs... I should've—should've—"

"Rocco, it's okay—"

"No, it's not! I didn't know how terrible she was treating you! Whatever bullshit she fed you, it isn't true." He cups your face. "Baby, I would never leave you, not for anybody, let alone for her, okay? There is no one else in this world that is more beautiful, funnier, and intelligent than you. I love you. You're everything to me, you know that?"

"Yeah," you mumble, your faltered response not convincing him.

He scoffs, looking back at the crack of the slightly open door, then at you. "Do I seriously have to prove it to you?"

"No, no, I do know, it's just..." He silences you once again with a deep kiss, his hands dropping to your waist with a light squeeze. You kissed back without hesitation, feeling him back you up against the door so it slammed shut behind you. He expertly locks the doorknob beside you before grabbing you by your thighs to lift you up, laying you down on the bed.

His lips don't leave yours as he undresses you and himself, which was a simple procedure due to the skimpy nature of swimsuits. He was used to seeing your naked body after having sex with you multiple times over the years, but he couldn't help but run his palms down your skin as if experiencing it for the very first time.

Rocco's lips traveled to your neck, leaving wet kisses there. You giggled softly at the ticklish sensation, in which he smiled, crashing his lips against yours once again. He was in love with the sound of your laugh. In fact, he was in love with everything about you. Obsessed, even.

Your eyes shut gently as you sighed deeply, feeling his hand reach between your thighs. You loved the way his warm, slender fingers would caress your flesh, knowing every place and stroke that made you feel good. He smirked to himself as he felt his fingertips dampen when they came in contact with a specific area.

With the smallest time possible in making you wait, his fingers finally slipped into your warmth, making you moan softly. You could never grow tired of that liberating feeling of Rocco's fingers stretching and exploring your tight walls. He didn't just use his digits to prepare you for his length, but he also wanted to simply please you. He enjoyed massaging your velvety insides, fingertips reaching the places his cock barely grazed. And he knew it drove you wild.

"I'm all yours, you know that?" He mutters, nipping your neck before his eyes looked into yours.

You were too much focused on the pleasure to fully comprehend his words, only nodding in your dazed state. When his words finally reached your brain, you sighed, "mm—Mm-hm..."

A soft whine escaped your lips as his fingers left you, Rocco now positioning himself between your legs.

The shocking thing about Rocco was that his favorite position was missionary. Well, not necessarily shocking, but ridiculously unexpected. Everyone he could have told would be surprised to hear it, considering it was too much of a vanilla position for a guy like him. It was Rocco, for fuck's sake.

The 'why', however, is essential. The main reason why Rocco loved missionary was because he got to see your face every time he made love to you. The wrinkle in between your furrowed eyebrows, the way your eyes went half-lidded, the way your lips parted to let his name leave your throat. It was the most intimate position he could be with you, and he didn't give a flying fuck if that made him a vanilla loser. Sure, he was always open to exploring the most wacky and kinky positions with you, but nothing could top missionary. Compared to every angle you two experimented with, missionary made him cum the fastest. It was just so good to see every single facial expression caused by the pleasure he brought onto you.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as his hands propped himself on the mattress. Rocco kissed you passionately on the lips before you felt his girth stretch you open, making you let out a lustful gasp. Your hands gripped his forearms as you feel his cock enter completely inside you. He could never get over this feeling. Your body was incredible, and never failed to make him feel amazing. He was obsessed with every aspect of you. Obsessed with making love to you.

Rocco grunted as his hips pulled back halfway just to push against you again, starting to thrust at a steady, back-and-forth pace. You loved the way his length moved in and out of your hole, making your insides flutter.

"Fuck, baby... You feel so fucking good," he murmurs under his breath, "there's no way I could ever think of leaving you, fuck no..."

Eventually, his pace increased to the point where the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the small bedroom with every thrust. The loud, wet plaps turned Rocco on, driving him to move faster. Both of you were pretty vocal, and you usually were when it came to sex; something your friend group would complain about if they ever had the misfortune of being in the area. As Rocco slammed into you roughly, the bed creaked repeatedly, its frame hitting against the wall.

"This bed sucks ass," you snicker under your breath, making him chuckle in response.

His hands moved from your hips to your limp wrists, holding them in place on each side of your head against the pillows. You whined softly, enjoying the control he had over you. Being under him was always a moment you indulged in.

Rocco's movements never faltered, his cock hitting deep spots that made you cry out his name. You felt yourself closer to the edge every time his length would piston in and out of you. Sensing how close you were with the way you pulsed around him, he released one of your wrists to bring his hand down, touching your sensitive flesh. Your body nearly spasmed, moaning louder than before as these overlapping feelings of pleasure drove you to the edge.

"I—I'm close," you whimper, clenching around his thick girth.

"I know, baby, I know," he mumbles, burying his face into your neck, "me too."

You both panted and breathed heavily, letting out lewd groans of arousal. Rocco's thrusts began to stammer, growing unsteady the closer he got to his orgasm.

"Fuck," he huffs, desperate to cum at the same time as you, "oh my God..."

"Mmm," you whine, out of breath, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming—"

"Fuck!" Rocco groans, spilling deeply inside you as you cum at the same time, your tightness gripping his cock. The sensation drove him insane as his release concluded with brief, remaining spurts that coated your walls. He held you tight, pressing his body close to yours, still snug inside of you.

He loved being inside of you. He loved cumming inside of you. He felt like it meant something much more than sex or lust. Like it meant something greater.

He slowly pulled out, huffing in disappointment at the loss of your warmth. He kisses your lips deeply, continuing to hover above you, tasting you sensually. His tongue parted your mouth, carefully slipping inside to move with yours. Your taste was addicting. The two of you had then made out for a long, breathless time, a passionate way to come down from your highs.

Soon enough, the kiss ended as Rocco finally rolled off of your body. Unable to function without your touch, he brings you in close with your head resting on his bare chest. You heard his heartbeat, unintentionally adjusting your own breathing to sync the rhythm.

His lips touched the top of your head, lingering for a bit. His palms stroked your bare shoulder and bicep affectionately. “I love you so much, baby...”

You kissed his chest gently, overwhelmed with reassurance and satisfaction.

“I love you too.”

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freak-accident419 · 3 months ago

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OH THIS IS AMAZING IM SOBBING :(

bob definitely cries after sex

(the way that I had started writing this even before I received that ask)

summary: it tends to all come crashing down once the tide washes off.

tags: post intercourse, nothing explicit mentioned, fluff, mandatory slight angst, healthy crying, shoutout to bob's big blue gentle eyes and soft curls, intimacy, hurt/comfort, healthy relationship, this man needs to be held and I volunteer as tribute

word count: 0.9k

masterlist | taglist | ao3 | @eyelessupdates

buy me a coffee ♡

Bob’s forehead drops to your shoulder, his whole body going limp over yours; its warmth seeps into you seemingly even more intensely than it did before, and you can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as it’s tightly pressed against your own when you both silently fall into that comfortable matched rhythm.

You feel hazy, fingers mindlessly curling around the hair at the back of his neck when he nuzzles the juncture between your shoulder and neck, warm breath fanning over your cooling skin, soft curls tickling it.

You stay like this for a little while, light and comfortably quiet – you wouldn’t ever want to move in moments like this, would let him cling to you like a second skin forever if you could, if your body didn’t eventually have to remind you it has needs outside of him. You know that if you don't get up, the idea of having to do it is only going to get worse.

Your hand slides down against his back, mouth gently pressing against his cheek as a preemptive apology before you have to break it to him; “C’mon, ‘gotta use the bathroom” you mutter softly, to which he responds with a soft, tired noise before he reluctantly slides himself off of you in order to let you go from the cage of his own limbs.

He flops back onto the mattress with a sigh, one arm lazily flung over his eyes while you quickly shift to grab a tshirt and an underwear to wear before you head towards the bathroom linked to his room.

When you come back, you find Bob sitting at the edge of his side of the bed, still shirtless, turned away from you, shoulder sagging. You crawl back over the bed and settle behind him, fingers running along his bicep, tracing lines down his arm as you press soft kisses against his bare shoulder. “You okay?” you murmur, nuzzling into his hair.

You feel him nod, but it is small, barely convincing, so you’re quick to sense something is wrong. Your intuition is easily confirmed when you push the hair covering the side of his face to take a look at him. “Bob–”

“I’m sorry,” he quietly breathes out when he looks at you, soft eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t even know,” his head shakes, and he turns away from you as he tries to hold it back, to not have you see him like this.

“Hey,” you softly call. Your hand comes to cup the back of his head, fingers threading gently into his hair. “That’s okay”

He nods like he’s trying to convince himself of it, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. “It’s not you. It’s not anything you did,” he hurries to explain, voice hoarse. “It’s just– I don’t know,” he shrugs, finally turning back to look at you. “A release of tension I think. But it’s so much, and so fast, and I don’t know what to do with it” he chuckles, the ghost of a smile appearing over his face for a second before he brushes it off by rubbing a hand over his face.

You don’t say anything, just watch as he tries to steady himself. You try to make it easier for him, more comfortable, your thumb soothingly running back and forth at the nape of his neck. It’s quiet for a while – you let him cry, let it soak, because you know it’s the good kind of cry, the kind that will make him feel lighter afterwards, the kind that he needs to move forward. You hold him like you know how much it costs him to feel this much, this intensely.

Bob eventually turns to look at you after a while, deep blue eyes gentle, breath trembling as it leaves him. “It just– It feels a lot. How you make me feel safe. Loved.”

Your heart leaps inside your chest, stomach fluttering in a way you can’t explain, blooming with an overwhelming warmth at his words. You could almost cry too; the deepness, the softness in his glassy eyes, the sincerity and the vulnerability of it all as he looks at you.

“Maybe that’s why your body lets go” you nod, grinning softly as you reach to take his hand in yours. “It just has to get used to it.”

He lets out a breath that sounds like half a laugh, half a sigh. “I guess that makes it sounds a little less pathetic”

You smile, leaning forward to press a kiss just beneath his ear. “It’s not pathetic,” you say. “It's honest and a little sweet, if you ask me” you smile, reaching to wipe away the remaining trails of tears over his cheeks.

He chuckles and sniffles quietly, head leaning to settle at your shoulder, hand letting your fingers intertwine, tightening around yours, gently squeezing in silent affection. He sighs softly when the hand that is not holding his buries into his dark locks, and again, you remain like this for a while, dwelling in that floating atmosphere, time stilling while it all quiets down, while you hold him until his breath gets even again.

“So I'm gonna have to make you get used to it, huh?”

You feel him smile against the fabric of your shirt. “Guess so,” he grins as he looks up at you, a glint of playfulness shining inside his eyes beyond the sheen of remaining tears.

Everything in that gaze alone makes you want to try your hardest.

—

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