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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 1 month ago

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Comfort for the Soul Part 2

Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolts*!Reader

Part 1

A/N: I really hope you guys enjoyed the previous chapter! Thank you all for the support and love - I love writing this sweet man and I may be writing more for him in the future!

I don't know much about Bipolar disorder, but I tried my best to look more into it to make Bob seem more realistic. It's easy to make Bob and his other 'personalities' similar to DID, but it is not at all the same.

Summary: When you realise your supply of blood bags have run dry, Bob is more than willing to become your temporary blood bag.

Tags: blood, swearing, blood drinking, reader is part vampire (think Blade - day walker and backstory explained a bit more), Bob is very touch starved and very smitten, fluff, pet names, Bob feels some self-doubt, mentions of the Void, making out, getting caught, Bob and reader being possessive, some 18+ moments (Bob gets a boner a few times)

Wordcount: 4,6k

E/C = eye colour

L/N = Last name

Lo and behold, Valentina was not true to her word; those three days suddenly went to five.

Your frustrations were greatly felt throughout the tower, much to the dismay of your team-mates, awkwardly giving support to their best of their knowledge.

It wasn't their fault they didn't know much about day walkers; they had been a rarity, but even you found their curious questions became something far too comical.

"Can't she just eat a squirrel?" John had finally asked at dinner, the group of you giving him varying looks of disbelief. "There's plenty in the park."

"She's part vampire, Walker, not a dog," Ava argued.

"It's fine, guys, I'll live." You chewed on the steak Alexei had offered to cook for you. A plain, on the verge of being a medium rare steak, nothing else to go with it.

Despite his help, he almost forgot about it a second too long, so the juices weren't as plentily. As Walker described it, "you might as well still eat it whilst it's still mooing."

The group didn't discuss anything on it, putting out ideas of what the evening should be: games, movie, trivia night, but your mind was distracted by the kind, thoughtful gesture that Bob had offered to you.

He had been keen on offering himself up as your temporary meal for only three days, but whether he would want to continue this for a few more was something you needed to bring up with him.

It didn't help; you could still see the band-aids he wore underneath his sweater, and the flesh was still healing.

Your mouth watered, the way he sat so snug in his comfy clothes didn't help your situation, sweet, oblivious Bob, unaware of how you were feeling. It took a lot in you now that you had gotten a taste of him, not to just keep pouncing on him every five minutes.

The group had gotten into a debate on films, which ones to watch, and only those that bring your attention back to them.

"If we do watch Star Wars, which ones - prequels or originals -Bob, why don't you pick?" Yelena had brought the attention back to Bob, whose attention had been given to shyly looking over at you when he thought you weren't looking.

"Uh-sorry, what were we talking about?"

"Ugh, see? He was too busy giving love eyes to YN!" Walker gestures, but none of them go further into it. Rather, Bob is left with the comment swimming in his mind, his eyes trailing to you to see if you are just as embarrassed as he is.

You give a sympathetic smile, one that doesn't pity him, and you don't make him feel worse. He feels relieved you don't look at him any differently; rather, your attention has shifted.

The heavy debate seemed to bring the worst out of Walker and Ava, disagreeing that "the prequels were better" or "no, originals are the best, we have to start with that and the order they came out in"

You cut them off before you can stomach their growing voices, "Hey guys, I might sit this one out-"

"Oh, no, you're not, L/N!" Walker and almost half of your team shouted out, before Bucky sighed, muttering, "Fuck it, prequels it is," before going to set it up in the living room.

"Hey," a small voice called to you, a nudge to the shoulder as you looked briefly from your unfinished meal to see Bob had made his way over to sit next to you, "something up?"

"All good," you whispered back, but you knew you had to ask him soon enough, "are you free after this? Need to ask you something."

"Of course." He smiled broadly, the smile lines in his face made him look boyish and youthful. Despite taking a chunk out of him the previous night, he seemed to be soothed by being in your presence.

You can't say anything else to him before you're whisked over to help with popcorn duty with Yelena, and Bob is dragged by Alexei to the couch.

"Hey, saved you a seat," Bob motions gently to the space beside him on the long sofa. You realise that he's in the curve of the L in the couch, and despite the length of the couch, you find that the space between you is practically nothing.

You scooch through as you take a seat, finding yourself rather cosied up beside him. Shoulders and legs touching, you realise he's emitting way too much heat to be humanly possible. There's a nervous, bashful look to him, like he's scared you're too uncomfortable being so close to him.

"Is this okay?" He whispers close to your ear when everyone has settled, the lights go off, and the movie intro starts. You notice his hands are fidgeting again, and on reflex, you take them into yours.

The jitteriness stops immediately, feeling the way Bob tenses again as if he's never felt you touch him before, his blue eyes flash with the light coming from the TV, and he looks ethereal with the backdrop of New York behind.

"I'm good." You give his hand a squeeze, your little message to him that you're next to him, not going anywhere.

He seems to relax into the bundle of blankets over you, and by the time the movie ends, you feel sluggish, warm, your head resting against his good shoulder, eyes drifting in and out of sleep.

"The lovebirds are at it again." You hear a voice, maybe Walker, but it sounds too happy, too pleased to see this; the sight of Bob reciprocating your touch, his eyes shut as he breathes deeply in a sleep.

You're so caught up in Bob and sleep, ignoring the snickering, the giggles, maybe even the sound of a phone camera shutter. You just feel so part of his life, and the feeling, unbeknownst to you, is reciprocated.

The group go back to their rooms, leaving the lights dimly lit as you slowly come around after a quick snooze, with Bob groggily joining you.

His brown locks are poking at random angles, his hair tousled but there is a sleepy, dreamy look to him when his eyes land on you beside him, realisation dawning on you both.

"Oh, guess the movie is done." His voice surprises you with how deep it sounds, "Surprised s'all."

"How come?"

"Usually, they're so loud," he laughs more to himself softly, his eyes twinkling in the dim light, "can't believe I wasn't thrown a pillow to the face for potentially snoring."

"Well, you're in luck, I didn't hear snoring," he matches your smile, relieved to hear that. You shift, feeling something had snaked around you.

Looking down, you spot Bob has not quite noticed he's wrapped himself around you, a hand on your waist, almost possessively, keeping you glued to his side.

"Sorry!-" He realised a second later when he sees what you're looking at, pulling back, but you immediately miss him, the way he feels around you, his scent, his overall being.

It's okay- you want to tell him- I like you being close- but you stop yourself from embarrassing yourself and admitting to it. You rake your fingers together, collecting the right words.

"Bob, I-"

"You... haven't fed properly, all day," he begins, eyeing you carefully. He sees it in the way your eyes are more frantic, you're jittery, and there's a sheen that looks like sweat across your brow.

You look at him, your heart pounding almost out of time to its normal beat, as Bob pulls back his sweater carefully, revealing the other side of his untouched skin. You feel the heartbeat there, strong, slightly fast.

"You can always... have some more now?" He asks, the softness in his voice is as if he's luring you out like a siren in the waters. It entices you easily, and you wish to just climb on top of him and commence there, but you're still cautious.

"Not here," you warn, and you look away from him, trying to ignore the briskness and liveliness coming from his chest. "If we were to do this, it would have to be in a room- yours maybe-"

"How about yours?" He asks, and the question has you wondering why he chose yours and not his. "I mean... only if you want...there's nothing against using my room-"

"My room it is then." You stand up abruptly, startling him, taking him by the hand as you both not-so-subtly scurry together down the hallway.

Bob doesn't think he's ever been more nervous in his life to be entering someone's bedroom, let alone it being yours.

He feels similar to some teenage boy sneaking off to a girl's room, an experience he never had but is all too giddy in finally getting to try it.

Bob doesn't know what he thinks he's going to experience when he comes into your room. Walker's 'vampiric' stereotypes run through his mind, and he's oddly curious but fully aware you won't have blood on the walls, upside-down crosses hanging everywhere.

Your hand has not left his until you thumb the door quickly, efficiently, opening it without a second thought, as you allowed him to step in first, you following.

He's certainly not expecting your room to look so... normal?

No coffin to sleep in.

No dead animals hanging around.

Just a simple, normal bedroom, filled with a slightly above-average number of plants.

You have a bookshelf of books of different genres he's read, old vinyls and a player sitting by your window, a pair of cosy slippers sitting by the end of your bed.

Bob notices a sketchbook half-scattered on your desk and is amazed that you like to draw. There's a familiar scent of vanilla or coconut or something fancy that Bob can't place what it is, but it's warm and smells like you, and he slowly feels enveloped by it.

There are fairy lights strewn over the top of your bed, hanging like hundreds of fireflies, and Bob thinks, no doubt, that this room is undeniably yours.

"Make yourself comfy." You say behind him, as Bob clumsily makes his way to your bed, stunned, the sheets feel so soft compared to his; he sinks into the mattress rather than the one in his room that makes him feel like he's sitting on bedrock.

His mind drowns him with unwanted thoughts: thoughts of imagining the two of you curled up with one another, sharing a space that was intimate in itself for just letting both of you be one.

"Bob," he looks up as he realises he's caught dissociating, looking to see you hovering by the door, eyes flashing between E/C and those golden-white ones, "you're so pretty."

The compliment rattles through him: mind and soul. He's opening and closing his mouth erratically, noises anyone would not think could be humanly possible to make are what you both can hear. He's scrambling to think of something to say, thinking- his mind screaming with different thoughts of things to say back to you.

"You're pretty, too-gorgeous even! Um, like pretty in the face and body-oh, that sounds so creepy, hah-not like I'm staring at your body, I swear!-"

A giggle echoed in the softness of your room, and his heart hammers as if ready to be reached to and ripped from him. How someone like you can listen to him, even want to be with him, makes his mind spiral.

"You think I'm pretty, Bob?" You're lightly teasing him, stepping closer to him, observing him like he's prey, and he's sweating profusely, wishing he were doused in holy water for his racing thoughts. "Gorgeous?" You continue until you stand in front of him.

He's looking anywhere by at you, so scared he's going to mess things up, ruin your friendship if he does something-says something, and to watch everything he's tried making with you burn away.

He wishes the mattress could sink him further and further down into a nothing space, but he's so sure you can feel everything. Soft fingers hold his chin to make him look up at you, and all you do is smile down at him, and Bob feels weak.

"Do I scare you, Bob?" He hears it, the soft gravel in your tone, the growl that grips your question. You're ravenous, and he's enjoying this way too much.

"No," his voice is a shudder, his fingers fidget in wanting to touch you again, and he finds that they move on their own, moving tentatively over your hips, his eyes not leaving yours. "I'm not scared of you."

Humming, you lean over him until your mouth grazes lightly over the shell of his ear. "May I," he thinks you're going to ask something else, "bite you?"

He's so happy to be a part of this, nodding his head so enthusiastically that you fear it will roll off, presenting his neck to you as his anticipation rises. He forgets to take his sweatshirt off, but it doesn't matter, you have enough room.

You don't waste time this time, and Bob gasps all the same as before when you bite into him. This time, now being in the confines of four walls, his noises are louder.

"O-Oh." He whimpers unapologetically, large warm hands grip suddenly at you with the strength that still stuns you, pulling you until you're practically hovering over his lap. Bob doesn't stop there, finally tugging you as you move with him, leg sweeping over and caging him in.

His Adam's apple bobs, fingers holding you by your thighs, your waist, trailing higher towards your ribs, all whilst trying to concentrate on his breathing, despite hearing the rush of blood leaving his head.

He shifts you in his arms, and a rookie mistake is made by him, for he accidentally shifts you a bit too far forward. Your core catches his crotch, rubbing unintentionally the more you move.

Bob whines in the back of his throat, tears well in his eyes. It feels so good, but he feels terrified, having himself wrapped around your little finger. He wishes he could stay here, in your arms, embracing you for as long as possible.

You growl in the back of your throat, not human, the sound reverberates through from Bob's neck down into his chest, hammering like a bell. He thinks you're going to lose control, and he's ready to bring you back.

"Fuck, baby, I've got you." The pet name slips out quicker than he realises, but it feels good from him, earning a low whine to come from you.

It's sudden, but you love it; the word goes straight to your core shamefully. "I've got you-I've got you." Bob feels the rush of endorphins from it, the way he feels so trusted by you in his arms.

Your thighs tighten around him, trying to stop yourself from gyrating on top of him despite how tempting it is. He doesn't seem opposed to it; your bodies move to help you get better access to his neck, creating a gyrating movement that anyone who came in would see would be obvious, indicating that the two of you were making out.

There is something sensual building, unfamiliar, but it seems so normal for both of you, blossoming into something undeclared, personal.

Your mouth withdraws from his skin, a harsh, ragged exhale leaves you as if you've been choking down on air. Leaning over him, your faces are far closer than usual.

Bob works on instinct and does the unthinkable, his fingers tracing over your cheekbone, tucking back a piece behind your ear.

"You're so pretty," you whisper, like the two of you are sharing heartfelt secrets between one another. Your bloodied lips trace over his ear once more, and Bob finds himself struggling to breathe. "Such a pretty boy."

Bob groans louder than he expected, squeezing your hips, his legs tense and untense, trying to move you off his crotch as quickly as possible. The words hit him as if he were awaiting the waves to crash down on him; the suspense kills him, but he's more terrified of making the wrong move. He doesn't want to scare you off.

"You-you have no idea what you do to me." His voice comes out hoarse, deeper than expected, his blue eyes flash momentarily to a warm golden hue, then back to their usual.

You know he's nervous about engaging in something so new, balancing that with the possible fear that there might also be a part of him that is trying to make him feel the lowest.

Bob shakily exhales, pushing his face into your torso, hugging you a little tighter when he feels himself overworking his mind. That you're using him just for some sort of gain, the other part is certain you wouldn't be allowing him to do any of this with you.

'She thinks you're weak.' The Void speaks through him as if he's conversing with it, but Bob doesn't want to think of it. He wants to be enveloped in you, your warmth, your sunshine, not the darkness.

"Bob," you try to draw him out, trying to get him to look up at you, and it takes some prying before his eyes dart up to look at you. He's afraid, afraid he's messed things up, worsened the relationship or friendship between the two of you. "I'm here. You did such a good job."

"I did?" There is a light that comes from him when he hears it come directly from you. He peeks his head out a bit more, uncertain yet tentative.

"Always." You murmur, and the two of you spend some minutes just in each other's arms, telling him how proud you are of him, how good he is to you. He is silent in your arms, letting out small, exhales when he hears compliments come from you.

"You're too good for me." He says after some time, and it hurts to see him doubt himself. "I'm a mess."

"Sometimes that's what makes us us," you hum, stroking back his brown hair. "I wouldn't change you for anything."

The Golden Guardian, he is to some, but to you, he's just Bob, the Bob who makes you feel most like yourself, someone who didn't run away from you the moment they saw you.

Not the monster your parents had cast out so many years ago, selling you off to the military. He's your sanctuary, you're everything he wishes to worship.

"Let me get you cleaned up." You hop off him slowly, rising as you walk to the ensuite. You linger for a bit before disappearing, holding his hand to steady him, to help him through his breathing before he's sure he's okay.

"Sure-not going anywhere." Bob exhales, crashing backwards onto the sheets, trying to hide the obvious 'problem' that had grown in his sweatpants.

It's another two nights that pass before you see Bob's confidence begin to build. It's small, subtle, but there in the way he walks, how he talks to you and others. It's blinding, and you feel strangely clingy when you're not near him.

It's game night this time around in the Avengers' tower, pizza boxes strewn across the couch, beers and wine flowing as conversation comes easily, laughter too.

Music softly plays of some club song you've never heard of, watching in amusement as a drunk Alexei tries dancing in time to it, spurred on as he's cheered by almost everyone watching.

Yelena watches on in cringe, muttering as she looks anywhere but onwards, suddenly feeling that the music needs to be changed as she hurries off. The others cheer on as Alexei laughs with a bellowing roar, the beer in hand nearly spilling as he moves.

"What fun!" He's loud, louder than normal, your ears ring at the noises around you, but you feel your eyes drifting over Bob too many times to Bob.

He's been quiet, silent in his laughter as he observes everything around him, as he sips slowly at his Sprite. You're awestruck by him, so absorbed in staring at him, not feeling the couch dip on your right. Yelena has snuck her way to sit beside you, startling you as she whispers to you.

"You're drooling."

You react quickly, wiping your mouth to find nothing as Yelena laughs, watching the way you try to avoid her eyes and the attention of anyone else. "When were you going to tell me you and Bob were seeing each other?"

The music doesn't seem loud enough, and you wish to drown in it. You feel like people are staring, even when they're not. You downplay the situation as you nervously laugh, "What are you talking about, Lena?"

"I mean, when I saw Bob leave your room two nights ago."

The glass of wine almost crushes in your hand from how you're gripping it, your heart thrums uncontrollably. You're quiet for a second too long, and Yelena is given all the proof she needs that something is going on.

"It's cute," She whispers, ignoring the way you're trying to cover your face. Bob glances back at the two of you curiously, trying not to eavesdrop. "The two of you- so cute together."

"We're not-it's not-"

"You don't have to say anything, L/N," she winks, her smile wicked, "I know."

She's quickly gone before you can explain things, proclaiming that it was time to take Alexei back to his room before he does anything further embarrassing. You watch as it takes a team effort of Walker, Ava and Yelena to drag the larger Russian man out, laughing to yourself as you hear the mumbled struggles, Alexei slurring his words.

You snuggle into the couch, enjoying the silence after some time, a comfortable, not awkward one fills the air as you look up, seeing Bob shyly looking your way already.

"You want to join me?" You beckon him over as he stands from the beanbag, shuffling quietly in a pair of almost matching slippers you had bought for him when he said he wished he had a pair.

You both sit in silence again, listening to the sounds grow quieter, a hum of the kitchen light, a honk from a car outside. It's peace that you love sharing with Bob.

You put down your glass of red, head swimming with a need for a distraction, eyes trailing over Bob as if you're undressing him with your eyes. "Ready?" You ask when you're certain everyone is occupied.

Bob nods, placing his cup down, shuffling closer to you until you straddle him with ease. He takes it naturally, a long exhale leaves his lips as you feel bolder in teasing him, tracing your fangs lightly over his skin, feeling previous bites have slowly begun healing with time.

"Please, Y/N," he whines, and you hush him sweetly, taking your time with him. "I know, sweetie, I'm here for you." Your voice drops a bit lower, and you revel in sensing his heartbeat pick up faster when you move over him.

He's so obedient, and it makes your mind wander to how he would be as a partner. Your thighs clench, and you lean into his shoulder, relieving him of the wait.

He grunts, not as loudly as before, as you drink slowly from him, sensually, hips rolling as you're taken up in a lull. Your mind short-circuits, you forget where you are, so emboldened by him and his words of encouragement, his hands guiding you.

You shock him, though, when you press kisses into his neck, trailing up his jaw as you leave bloody kiss marks the higher you go. Bob stares up at you, mesmerised, licking his lips unintentionally to see your bloody mouth.

You can't stop yourself now, and the words that come next from you take you to the final step.

"Want a taste?"

Bob swallows thickly, eyes trailing from your mouth to your eyes, glowing, then back down to your lips. He's hungry in a way you don't think someone like him would be, but he's so sweet in how he pleads. Morbid curiosity has taken over, but he's aware of how you mean to let him taste his blood.

"Please-yes please." You don't know who leans in first, but lips envelop yours, soft and warm. Bob tastes the iron on his lips, strong, and he thinks that you must've turned him at some point-because why is he so obsessed?

Your kiss starts slowly, testing the waters as you pull back inches from him to gauge his reactions, smiling when he chases your lips before diving in for more.

You're so caught up in it all, kissing him, feeling him move beneath you, the way he whispers your name. He kisses you a bit harder now, his tongue swipes curiously over your bottom lip as he tastes a bit more, kissing openly and a little bit more brazenly.

The elevator rises slowly, neither of you noticing, hands touching in places as Bob feels over you tentatively, whispering that pet name you love oh-so-much.

The doors to the elevator chime open. Bucky is tired from a full day of meetings, talking to congress, and wishing for a drink and bed, turning on the light as he's in his own world-

"Oh, what the fuck!"

You pull off, leaning back onto the couch and off Bob slightly, when you hear the voice behind you. Bob still holds you, trying to shield himself as you watch Bucky with equal parts shock and annoyance.

"It's not what you think-"

"No, I'm just going to pretend I didn't walk in on this." Bucky sounds like a disappointed dad as he averts his gaze from the two of you.

The shock brings hurried footsteps to approach, Walker is the first to round the corner to the scene. "Oh fuck-What the fuck, Y/N?"

Ava and Yelena are making small murmurs as they look over it as well. Ava is like Bucky, looking the other way, but Yelena is smiling- fucking smiling- as she gives the thumbs up your way.

"I get you want to get in each other's pants," Walker continues, "but I didn't think I was going to walk in on you eating Bob!"

To them, it made sense that it looked like they walked in on a crime scene: Bob is covered in blood. His mouth, neck and most of his face are smeared. His hair is tousled beyond saving, his sweater is pulled and covered in blood. You've done terribly in trying not to stain the couch, but blood has splattered onto the pillows and blanket.

You try to explain yourself, but there is a noise that has entered the room that feels primal, sudden.

The growl to emit in the room does not come from you, and surprisingly, everyone turns their head directly to who is beneath you.

"Get out." Bob's voice is low, commanding, and it brings everyone in the room to feel a sense of apprehension. This doesn't sound like him; his voice is his own, but it holds power, strength.

The grip around your waist is hiding his excitement from the others, but it is possessive as he repeats the same words, louder this time, somewhat more demanding. "Get. Out."

Everyone moves as if on autopilot. Yelena and Ava scoop a confused Walker out of the room. Bucky shakes his head as he walks the other way down to his room. There is nothing said again from them as they leave the two of you in complete silence.

"Holy shit," you utter when there is no noise, no giggles, no words of astonishment. Looking down towards Bob, he's so caught up in being with you that he hasn't even clocked what happened. "That-that was hot."

Bob blushes as he pulls you down to his level, kissing you deeply to either occupy your thoughts with him again or to shut you up. You greedily kiss back, knowing the next day, breakfast will bring many questions and awkward 'birds and bees' conversations, but you don't care, not when you're with your Bob.

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