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winterswift · 5 days ago

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thank you so much 🥺💗💗

can you see right trough me?

pairing: robert reynolds x f!reader.

summary: you didn't think you'd ever love again, but you found a man who infiltrated every crevice of your wounded heart and made it a home once again.

word count: 10,3 k.

tags: post!thunderbolts, sentry is known as an avenger, bob can control his powers better, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, nightmares, pining, books, mentions of y/n, reader is heartbroken, bob is the sweetest person in the world, too many feelings, too many references to the sun (sorry, i had to do it).

a/n: english is not my first language so there might be grammatical mistakes. this fic got so looong, so I hope you like it :).

Someone once said that love wasn’t for girls like you.

Girls who loved too much and fell in love too fast. That their hearts weighed more than they did.

But you didn’t listen, because you were never one to back down from a challenge.

Love was never easy for you. You longed for it, yes, but it always ended up hurting you. Each scar, a stark reminder of the times you loved with every part of you, proved it wasn’t enough. That you weren’t enough.

Then you found a man, the one you truly believed would stay with you for the rest of your life, but he didn’t feel the same way.

You tried, you poured your entire being into that relationship, doing everything in your power to make him stay. But he wasn’t yours, and he never would be.

And when he left, he stripped you of everything: your hope, your dreams, your confidence. He took a part of you that you may never get back.

He left you in ruins, destroying something that had once been sacred. He left you bleeding over the scars he had once kissed.

He left behind the shell of what had once been a woman brimming with life.

He broke your heart, but this time, it wasn’t a deep wound; it was a terminal one. You didn’t think it could ever be repaired.

You didn’t scream, you didn’t cry, but the dull pain numbed you and extinguished the light inside you. You didn’t know how to cope with his absence.

It was no longer just about missing him, but about being in someone’s constant presence, about feeling seen, about coming home and knowing that someone was waiting for you. The extra cup of coffee on the table, the emptiness in your bed where someone used to lie beside you, having someone to talk to about your life. All that was gone.

Loneliness had invaded every corner of your home, becoming a silent companion you couldn’t get rid of.

You learned to accept it, to carry it with you like another burden. Soon, the devastating silence that invaded your home became a comforting presence. It became a refuge, a suit of armor; in solitude, no one could hurt you.

You had accepted that love, after all, wasn’t for you.

Not as an overstated declaration, but as someone seeking protection after having been terribly hurt. You sealed your heart, not to repair it, but to protect it. And perhaps, in this way, what little remained of it would heal.

Love ceased to be a reality for you; it became an idea, a memory of what you once had and lost. What you had most longed for, and paradoxically, what destroyed you the most.

You left it behind, promising yourself that you would never give yourself so completely to another person again, that you would never again be vulnerable to being broken.

To cope with the weight of a broken heart, you needed a new purpose. So, you devoted yourself entirely to your work. The overtime no one else dared to accept, the weekends, the impossible projects, you accepted them all to silence the noise of your own thoughts.

Amidst the chaos of organizing schedules, attending to customers and dealing with overly strict bosses, you found your place: you were in complete control. Your personal life disappeared, even if only for a few hours.

You quickly found yourself climbing the ladder, becoming the perfect professional. The one who always had everything ready, always arrived on time, and never complained when asked to do more than was expected.

You built such a perfect facade that no one could glimpse the broken woman underneath. And you didn’t let anyone see her.

You smiled when necessary, exchanged small talk with your colleagues, but never let them get too close. They saw you as a successful professional, perhaps too reserved, but never broken.

You built a wall between yourself and the rest of the world, for safety, out of fear. The wall became your fortress, loneliness your armour, and indifference your weapon. It was the only way you found to survive.

And so you ended up here, with a smile too forced to be real and a dress that wrapped uncomfortably around your skin. Another charity gala, full of people you would never see again, lights too bright and murmurs too loud. The perfect place to slip into the skin of the person you pretended to be.

Your boss, a whirlwind of demands, had finally freed you from your duties. A sigh escaped your lips, releasing all the tension you’d built up during the night.

You approached the bar, your throat dry and your lips trembling from all the smiles you’d faked. You ordered a drink, not for the alcohol, but for the simple fact of having something in your hands, a distraction. You sat in the corner where the shadows were more prominent and the world a little more distant.

You savored the champagne on your tongue, letting the liquid take effect and relax your muscles. You allowed yourself to relax the mask you’d so carefully constructed, not too much, but enough for the tired, sad woman underneath to breathe.

────・:✧∙✦∙✧:・────

Gala events and social gatherings were never Bob Reynolds’ thing. The crowds and deafening noise had always overwhelmed him, but since acquiring his powers, it had become almost unbearable.

His amplified senses picked up everything: every breath, every overly loud laugh, every clinking of glasses. He heard it all, a constant assault on his nerves, one that threatened to fray the already fragile edges of his self-control.

And he hated it.

He tried to avoid such events, but there were times, like tonight, when he couldn’t refuse. Valentina had forced the whole team to attend; the Thunderbolts needed to be seen, they needed to win the people’s affection.

And there he was, wearing a suit too stiff to be comfortable, surrounded by people who weren’t interested in him or his past, but rather in the influence someone with his power could wield.

He’d distanced himself from the team, from the people, seeking a moment of peace, the calm in the eye of the storm. Then a chill ran through his body, as if something were telling him to look up.

And there he saw her.

Her solitary figure stood out like a flame in the darkness, and he felt drawn to her. She was sitting in a corner of the bar; an aura of stillness surrounded her, completely oblivious to the lively atmosphere. Loneliness seemed to envelop her like a second skin. The melancholy expression on her face moved him, because he knew it all too well.

It wasn’t visible at first glance; it was hidden in her tense shoulders, in her eyes clouded by memories too painful to bear, in the weariness that showed through her fake smiles, the ones that said “I’m fine,” but it never was.

Someone approached her, and she smiled, straightening up with focused, attentive eyes. The image of the melancholic woman vanished in an instant, replaced by someone who seemed to dominate the place with just a glance.

Bob saw himself reflected in that woman. He knew (probably better than anyone else) what it was like to build a facade that hid inner demons, endless sadness, the weight of memories.

He felt, deep down, the desire to approach her. He didn’t know what he would say to her, whether his words or his presence would make any difference, but the need was there. Because he too had been alone and had needed someone to remind him that all was not lost.

He didn’t dare approach her, but his eyes didn’t leave her for the rest of the night. And even after the event was over, after taking refuge in his room, he was still thinking about her.

────・:✧∙✦∙✧:・────

Bookshops had become a safe place for you, a sanctuary; a place where the weight of the world became a little lighter. You lost yourself among the shelves full of stories, in the phrases that resonated so deeply with you, in the soft music and the unmistakable smell of paper.

You caressed the spines of the books affectionately when you saw him. He entered silently, like someone used to going unnoticed, but you did notice him. The way his shoulders slumped, the weariness on his face, that weariness that lingers over time.

Something about him caught your attention; your eyes followed him as he approached the poetry section, the book in your hands forgotten. You watched his broad, tense back and wondered what his story might be.

────・:✧∙✦∙✧:・────

Bob entered the bookshop with a sigh. He’d escaped from the tower, from Valentina’s constant surveillance. He needed a break; he was still overwhelmed by the previous night’s sensory overload.

He was still thinking about her.

As he wandered around looking for a book, he felt someone staring at his back. He’d grown accustomed to it; people always looked at him as if trying to figure out who he was. But this time something felt different, and even before he saw her, he knew: it was the same woman from the gala.

He pretended not to notice her, continuing to look at the books even though her gaze burned into him. Her curiosity about him was almost palpable. He wondered what she thought of him, what she perceived. It was a delicate game. He knew she was watching him, and that thought gave him a strange feeling in his stomach.

It wasn’t discomfort; it was calm. Being observed without prejudice.

After a moment that seemed like an eternity, he looked up. Their eyes met, and the world around them seemed to fade away. It wasn’t an explosion of fireworks or a cosmic encounter; it was a silent connection. An invisible thread connecting two souls recognizing each other for the first time.

A small smile, one of those involuntary ones, formed on his face. Her warm, bright eyes looked at him curiously before looking away, as if she were afraid he would see more than she was showing him.

They didn’t speak; it wasn’t necessary. Bob didn’t insist; aware of the fragility of the moment, he went back to looking for a book. He continued smiling even after she left, the memory of her gaze still fresh in his mind.

He wasn’t sure why, but something deep in his heart told him that it wouldn’t be the last time he’d see her.

────・:✧∙✦∙✧:・────

One week turned into two, but the image of that man in the bookshop remained etched in your memory. You thought about him more often than you’d like to admit: the deep blue of his eyes, the curve of his smile, the intimacy of that brief moment when your eyes met.

It was a curiosity that wouldn’t go away; in moments of quiet, you thought back to that encounter. You thought about his tired face, the strange calm his smile gave you, how, for once in years, you felt that someone had truly seen you: the woman hiding beneath all the pain.

And it scared you. You weren’t used to someone seeing through your defenses. Ironically, that made you even more intrigued by him, by his story, by that melancholy that seemed to accompany him.

Like you, he seemed to be someone struggling with the weight of the world. And you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

So you did what you always did: you lost yourself in your work again. Answering calls, replying to emails, attending meetings; a carefully constructed routine. But your boss had other plans.

He had partnered with Valentina De Fontaine, whom he was helping with her political campaign, which meant more work for you. That day, he had specifically assigned you to deliver some confidential files to the old Avengers Tower.

The building where you worked wasn’t far from the tower, so you decided to walk. The sound of your heels against the pavement calmed your nerves. You knew what kind of woman Valentina was, and her presence made you deeply uneasy, but you had to keep your composure. It was your job, and you couldn’t afford to fail.

The Watchtower towered above you. The building that once belonged to Tony Stark, a symbol of power and heroism, now looked cold and dark.

But you didn’t stop to think about it too much. You moved through the tower’s endless floors; at such a height, the world seemed a little quieter. An assistant showed you where the meeting room was where you were to deliver the documents.

Valentina herself opened the door for you. She had a smile on her face, just as forced as yours. You greeted her cordially and handed her the documents along with your boss’s instructions; the process took no more than a couple of minutes.

At last, you were free to leave that place. Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a man hurried in.

At first, you didn’t pay him any attention, too busy answering emails, but then you felt his gaze burning into you. You turned to look at him and discovered why.

It was him, the man from the bookshop, the one who had been on your mind for weeks.

His brown hair had small golden highlights that shone in the artificial light; his eyes analyzed you with the same precision as the last time, making you feel vulnerable. His smile, however, remained warm.

The realization unsettled you: you had seen him once on television, a memory too fleeting to last, but now, standing in front of you, you couldn’t deny it.

He wasn’t just a man whose melancholy had caught your attention. He was Sentry, an Avenger.

A man who wielded more power than you could ever imagine.

And he was smiling at you as if you weren’t just a passing presence in his life, looking at you with the familiarity that only someone who recognizes the pain and weight of the past could have.

Too nervous to say anything, you could only avoid his gaze. But it seemed that he wasn’t going to let you escape without saying something. When the elevator indicated that it was about to reach the ground floor, his voice prevented you from fleeing.

“Excuse me,” his deep voice made your skin tingle. He smiled, a smile that tried to appear casual but betrayed his nervousness. “I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Robert Reynolds.”

He pronounced his name with a strange firmness that even surprised him. He always asked to be called Bob, a simpler, less imposing nickname. But for her, he wanted to be Robert, perhaps so she wouldn't take Sentry into account. Even so, she never mentioned him, even when he was sure she recognized him.

He extended his hand, and she shook it with a light but firm touch. He trusted his powers enough to know that a simple handshake wouldn’t trigger her worst memories.

“I’m Y/N,” she replied, her curious eyes watching him closely.

There was an awkward pause, the silence in the elevator made heavy by the unresolved tension. Bob scratched the back of his neck, trying to find something to say, but the words stuck in his throat. Finally, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“You work here, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, my boss works with Valentina on her political campaign; I’m his assistant.”

“I see,” he said, not daring to mention that her job would bring her back to the tower, giving him the opportunity to meet her again.

The lift reached the ground floor and opened its doors with a mechanical hiss. She moved to exit, but before she could, his voice stopped her again.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N.”

“Likewise, Robert,” she said, a hesitant smile on her face. She gave him one last look, a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty, before disappearing into the crowd.

“I hope to see you soon,” he added, but she didn’t hear him.

He didn’t expect her to.

────・:✧∙✦∙✧:・────

Despite your initial reluctance, visits to the Tower became a regular part of your routine. Weeks turned into months. Your boss seemed particularly pleased with your efficiency, and soon you found yourself taking on more tasks that brought you back to the Avengers’ headquarters. You had encountered all of them at least once; to say it was unusual would be an understatement.

But the one you saw most often was Robert. You didn’t always talk. Sometimes it was a nod and a small smile as you walked down the hallways. Other times, a shared silence in the elevator. You grew accustomed to his deep eyes watching you. You memorized the deep marks of fatigue on his face.

That day you had a meeting at the Tower. Your boss was meeting with Valentina to discuss some important matters, and you had to be there to take notes. You arrived early, nodded briefly to Valentina’s assistant, and made your way to the waiting room—an area filled with armchairs, tables with a few magazines, and the aroma of coffee.

You were a little disappointed not to see Robert, but you knew it was unusual for him to be in that area. So you decided to sit down in one of the comfortable armchairs and kill some time by finishing organizing your boss’s schedule.

While you waited, something on the coffee table caught your eye. Among the worn magazines, there was a carefully wrapped package, as if someone had left it there for you. You looked around, hoping to find something, someone, but you found yourself completely alone.

You dared to pick it up; the paper crumbled easily between your fingers. You were surprised to see a familiar title, a book of poetry you had seen a few months ago but didn’t dare to buy because of the familiarity of its words.

There was a small note stuck to the cover.

“I thought you might like it.

Robert.”

How did he know? You didn’t remember mentioning it; you talked about books, yes, but not that one in particular.

Once again, it seemed that he had managed to see through your defenses.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the watchful eyes observing you. Bob had made sure to leave the book in a place where you would see it. He had hidden himself in a safe place, too afraid that his actions might scare you.

He remembered perfectly the book you had in your hands when he found you the day after the gala. You had looked at it with interest, but as soon as you started reading it, you had put it down and picked up another one. He had bought it on impulse, because he wanted to know what had intrigued you, and he thought it would be a good way to show you that he saw you, that he saw through the mask.

He watched you take the book, anxiety tensing every muscle in his body. He absorbed every detail: the way you looked for someone else in the room; the curiosity that shone in your eyes; how you took the book as if it were something fragile; the delicacy with which you traced your fingers over its casual lettering.

A warm wave of affection washed over him when he saw the smile spread across your face, and he found himself smiling too at your pure, unfiltered reaction. That was what he wanted to achieve, after all.

It wasn’t about the book, the paper, and the ink, but the feeling of knowing that someone saw you, that you mattered to someone. He had decided to give you something personal and meaningful because he knew you would like it. Even if you didn’t tell him, he didn’t need to. Your expression was worth more than anything you could say to him.

With his heart racing, Bob realized how much he liked your smile. And that the connection he had with you was the most real thing he had felt in a long time.

────・:✧∙✦∙✧:・────

You memorized every stroke of his handwriting; the note was written with the delicacy of someone who knows they are dealing with something meaningful. 'I thought you might like it.' Of course he knew, because somehow this man had the ability to see you as no one else could.

The need to thank him overwhelmed you, with words you dared not say stuck in your throat. You had to know why—why he had taken such an interest in you, why he was so selfless with you. Why he seemed so determined to reach your heart.

You looked for him: the familiar glint of his brown curls, his quiet, calm figure, but you couldn’t find him anywhere. You even dared to ask Valentina’s assistant, Mel, if she had seen him.

You were disheartened when she replied with a polite, “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen him today.” It seemed that you would have to save your gratitude for another time.

You felt the weight of the book in your bag for the rest of the day. Even when you should have been focused on your work, your mind kept returning to that note, to the book, to him. And without meaning to, you found yourself smiling at the memory.

When the day ended and you could finally relax in the tranquillity of your flat, you looked at the book again. You lost yourself in its pages, in the words that touched your heart, leaving a trail of tears on them. It was as if he knew exactly what you needed to hear, and perhaps he did.

The mere thought made your heart race, but it had been so long since anyone had genuinely cared about you that you couldn’t be scared. Instead, you felt grateful for Robert Reynolds’ presence in your life.

Lost in words, you didn’t realize that the sun was beginning to rise until it was too late.

────・:✧∙✦∙✧:・────

You didn’t see Robert again for two weeks. At first you thought he might be avoiding you, but you soon realized it was something else. You didn’t dare ask, but Mel kindly told you that he had been sent on a mission.

It gave you enough time to read the book over and over again; you clung to it like an anchor in a storm. You marked the paragraphs you liked. The spine began to crack from being opened so many times, and the pages began to bend at the corners. You had brought it to life, and you were surprised to find yourself waiting to talk to him about it.

The note was still intact; you had left it on your desk, too afraid to ruin it. Every morning, before going to work, you reread it.

You missed his presence, more than you’d like to admit. You missed that brief moment of calm in your day. Robert, for you, was like the rays of sunshine that appeared after the storm: warm, bright, and hopeful.

The two weeks turned into three. His absence was a constant reminder of how much his presence had changed your daily life. You were back to square one: an empty shell, a woman who preferred to live working rather than face the reality of her sad life.

You clung even more tightly to the book, to the memory of your encounters, desperate not to let that part of you that felt alive again disappear.

And then, after another stressful meeting where you could barely pay attention, he burst into the elevator that was about to close, just like the first time.

He looked different, his eyes darkened by fatigue. His hair was a little longer, falling over his forehead as if he had run his hand through it too many times. But his smile, the one you were beginning to believe was reserved just for you, remained the same.

His body relaxed when his eyes met yours; his gaze softened when he saw you. You knew without him saying it: he had missed you as much as you had missed him.

Your heart raced with a new urgency. He was there. And you, for the first time in weeks, felt like the sun had come out again.

“Hello,” he said breathlessly.

“Hello, Robert,” you replied with a smile, at this point impossible to contain.

There was an awkward pause, where both of you seemed to be thinking about what to say.

“I read the book.”

“You read the book?” they both said in unison, then let out a nervous laugh.

“I… uh… yes, I read it,” you fiddled with the straps of your bag. “I wanted to thank you, really. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s nothing,” his voice was barely a whisper, but it was still clear to you. “Do you have a free moment? I was wondering if… if you’d like to have a coffee. Only if you want to, you can say no, totally.”

It was the first time he had invited you to do something outside the Tower. At another time, you might have refused, but after weeks of not seeing him, you were eager to talk to him.

“I’d love to,” you managed to say, your stomach churning with nervousness.

He smiled at you with that genuine smile you were beginning to enjoy. He led you to a café just a couple of streets away from the Tower; your skin tingled at the touch of his hand as you walked together.

They ordered their coffees and sat down in a secluded spot, letting the silence settle between them. Robert was the first to break it.

“Did you like the book?” he asked hesitantly, as if afraid of your answer.

You decided it was best to show him. You took the book out of your bag, its spine worn and its pages dog-eared from reading it so many times over the past few weeks. You placed it in front of him so he could see it.

“I loved it,” your voice trembled a little at first, but the warmth in his gaze gave you courage. “I… I don’t know what to say, it’s perfect, I can’t stop reading it. I don’t know how you knew I would like it, but thank you.”

You saw the relief cross his face; his eyes returned to the book, looking at it with something akin to affection.

“I saw you pick it up at the bookshop,” he confessed. “You didn’t buy it, but I thought you might give it a second chance, I thought you might like it. I wanted… I wanted you to know that I see you.”

His honesty hit you like a bolt of lightning and completely disarmed you. When was the last time someone had shown so much interest in you? You couldn’t remember.

His words, sincere and full of understanding, had touched your heart. You blinked, trying not to let him notice the moisture that had formed in your eyes.

“Thank you, Robert,” you said, your voice heavy with emotion. “Really, no one has ever noticed me like this before.”

A small, sad smile formed on his lips.

“I know,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on the book. “Me neither.”

And with that sentence, you understood why he could see right through you.

The conversation flowed easily after that. You returned to the book, you showed him the verses you liked, and in return, he showed you his. The coffee grew cold as you continued talking for what seemed like endless hours.

Thus, under the dim lights and in that small, confined space where only the two of you seemed to exist, the walls you had built around yourself began to fall, brick by brick, with every word shared.

────・:✧∙✦∙✧:・────

Things began to change after that, a slow and silent process. In those small moments, away from prying eyes, they shared smiles laden with unspoken words. They stopped walking so cautiously around each other. Robert began to wait for you at the entrance to the building, accompanying you whenever you had a free moment.

Having coffee after work became a habit; they talked for hours, often being the last to leave, with the employees giving them dirty looks from behind the counter. They discovered they had much more in common than they thought: they talked about their passions, about books. Sometimes you complained about how tedious it was to work for your boss, and he told you what it felt like to be an Avenger and carry so much responsibility on his shoulders.

They laid the foundations for a friendship that continued to flourish against all odds. They exchanged messages frequently, sent each other photos of their days, and you found yourself smiling more often. You laughed at his silly jokes, the silence in your house was replaced by loud, cheerful music, the kind that made you nod your head to the beat.

Every day you saw him, every day you spent time with him, you returned home a little happier. You learned more about him: about his struggles, his sensitivity, his sarcasm at just the right moments. He was a sweet, attentive man who knew how to listen, who knew when you needed to laugh and when you just needed someone to stay by your side.

It felt like a monumental step for you. With every cup of coffee, every message, every shared book that reminded you of each other, you were letting him in. Correction: he was infiltrating your heart, and there was no way to stop him. There was no turning back.

You discovered that even with the caution that pain leaves behind, you still wanted him to stay with you. You opened the doors of your heart to him, and he, with his presence, began to illuminate the darkest corners of your life.

And that feeling no longer scared you as much as it used to.

Soon, afternoons at the café weren’t enough, and you started inviting him to your house. You made him homemade food, the kind made with love. You couldn’t remember the last time you set two plates for dinner instead of one.

Robert was excited about the idea. He hadn’t had a real meal in a long time either. None of the Avengers were good cooks, so most of the time they ordered takeout. Sometimes you gave him the leftovers to take to his teammates, and each time he thanked you profusely.

Other times, he would stay up late watching films with you. The experiments they had done on him had taken away most of his memories, so you decided to reintroduce him to classic films: your favorites and those you thought he might like.

The nights grew longer between you; the conversations became deeper. You told him about your life, your aspirations, even things you didn’t share with anyone else. There was something about him that inspired trust: his eyes never judged you; he just listened and was there for you.

He also talked to you. He told you about his past—not everything, but enough. He told you about the few happy memories from his childhood, he told you about his powers, about the constant struggle to control them. And you listened to him, without pressure, just with patience and understanding.

One night, as you were enjoying a film curled up on the sofa, you asked him something that had been on your mind for the last few days:

“Bob,” you called him, your gaze lost on the protagonists kissing after an emotional confession. “Have you ever been in love?”

He sat up straight on the sofa, sensing the change in your voice. You never called him Bob; to you, he was always Robert.

“Not really,” he replied, his eyes fixed on you. “With the kind of life I had, I could never… I just couldn’t devote myself to one person, not completely. Yes, I’ve liked other people, but love? I don’t think I’ve ever felt it.”

Your heart ached when you heard his words. You knew he’d had a difficult past, but hearing it from him made you finally understand how hard his life had been. You wished he hadn’t had to go through all that, but otherwise, you would never have met him.

“I used to fall in love easily,” you said with a bitter laugh. You felt Bob’s gaze on your face, but you didn’t dare look at him. “I was in love with love. I believed that one day I would find that person, you know? The one who is made for you.”

“And what happened?” he asked softly.

“For a moment, I thought I had truly found him. I fell deeply in love; I loved him with every part of me,” you lost yourself in memories. “He was perfect, or at least I thought so; he was everything I had ever wanted in a partner. And then it all fell apart: he fell in love with someone else. He decided that what I gave him wasn’t enough, that I wasn’t enough for him.”

Your voice faltered. The wound, however old it was, still hurt. Robert reached out his hand and cautiously placed it on yours. He gently caressed your knuckles, a silent comfort.

“Y/N… you don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” he said; his understanding always managed to move you.

“It’s okay, I want to tell you this,” you replied, forcefully wiping away the tears that threatened to escape from your eyes. “He left me and for a long time made me think there was something wrong with me. What did she have that I didn’t? He made me believe I didn’t deserve to be loved. So I promised myself I would never be so vulnerable again; I shut myself off and became what I am today. And I hate it, because I miss how I used to be, but I can’t go back to being that person anymore, I just can’t.”

With those words, you finally broke down. Tears began to fall down your cheeks, first silently and then turning into sobs you couldn’t hold back. You were embarrassed for Robert to see you like this, but you knew he wouldn’t judge you.

His blue eyes looked at you with shared sadness, not pity, but with the pain of knowing that someone had hurt you and that there was nothing he could do to reverse it.

He gently pulled you towards him, his arms lovingly enveloping your body. He let you cry as you melted into the warmth of his body, focusing on the steady beat of his heart and the comfort it gave you. It was a completely selfless gesture on his part.

In his arms, you found a sense of security that you thought you had lost forever.

Bob wasn’t a balm for your wounds, nor did he pretend to be. He didn’t try to fix you because there was nothing to fix. He simply understood you better than anyone else. By his side, the weight of your pain seemed easier to bear. He reminded you that you weren’t alone in facing your problems.

Finally, you gathered enough strength to pull away from him. Bob held your face in his hands, frowning as he wiped away the tears that had stained your skin.

“Better?” he asked. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the molten gold that had intertwined with the blue of his eyes, but you didn’t dare tell him.

You nodded, too weak to speak.

He sighed, a little more relaxed, before coming back to you. You curled up next to him, completely exhausted.

You didn’t even notice the silent struggle Robert was facing. He was equal parts sad and angry. He didn’t get angry often, but there was something about seeing the people he cared about hurt that ignited the protective instinct within him.

He wanted to know who had hurt you so badly, who had extinguished that light that sometimes, even when hidden, still shone within you. He clenched his jaw, aware that the last thing you needed at that moment was for him to lose control.

He decided to focus on the gentle movement of your chest with each breath; only then did he realize that you had fallen asleep on him. A small smile formed on his face, happy that you trusted him enough to allow yourself that vulnerability.

Careful not to wake you, he placed a blanket over your body and watched over you as you slept for the rest of the night.

Even when his phone was full of missed calls from the team the next morning, Bob didn’t care.

Taking care of you was worth it.

────・:✧∙✦∙✧:・────

You were right to trust him.

You knew it the next morning when you woke up wrapped in blankets carefully placed around your body. You knew it when you found him in the kitchen, with the sunlight illuminating every feature of his face and that kind smile that always touched your heart.

Despite all his responsibilities, he had stayed. He didn’t pressure you, he didn’t ask if you were okay, he just stayed by your side.

He made sure you had breakfast, washed the dishes they had used the night before so you wouldn’t have to, left you a glass of water and a headache pill, and left with the promise to return later.

And you, with a cup of hot coffee in your hands (one he had prepared), had never felt more loved.

Robert returned the following night, and the night after that.

By letting go of the weight of that confession, you were finally able to speak freely with him. You no longer felt so afraid to talk to him about your feelings, not when he had seen you at your most vulnerable and still decided to stay.

You allowed yourself to enjoy his conversations and encounters more. And you reached a point where you no longer remembered what your life was like before he came along.

Your friendship solidified. Afternoons spent drinking coffee became an unbreakable bond, dinners became more and more frequent, and movie nights became a tradition.

You incorporated him into your life: you looked for new recipes and prepared them for him, hoping he would like them, and you started buying boxes of his favorite tea to keep at home. You even put a photo of the two of you in your living room, and from the smile on Bob’s face every time he saw it, you knew he liked it.

You spent a lot of time together, perhaps more than expected. But it wasn’t about attachment, or feeling lonely; it was that you genuinely enjoyed his company.

Bob encouraged you to come out of your shell, to smile a little more, to talk to those colleagues who had tried so many times to befriend you. Your life didn’t stop when he wasn’t around; he made you happy, but you didn’t need him to be happy. He wanted to be your support so that you could be the version of yourself that you liked best.

And that, for you, meant everything.

But between the trust and friendship they shared, something else was beginning to develop. Something you hadn’t yet dared to name.

You don’t know when you first began to notice the electricity that ran through your body every time his hands brushed against yours, the warmth of his palms when they touched your lower back to guide you somewhere. The sound of his voice, hoarse and deep, and how your skin tingled every time he spoke to you.

You began to be hyper-aware of each of your reactions: how your heart raced every time you saw him, the warmth in your cheeks when he smiled at you, how you lost yourself in the blue of his eyes. Your laughter had become more genuine around him, the kind you couldn’t contain.

You found yourself thinking about him more often, eagerly awaiting your encounters, smiling every time he sent you a message. You missed him when he had to go on a mission, the days seeming endless without any news from him.

One night, while watching a film, curled up on the sofa as usual, you turned your head to whisper a comment to him. You hadn’t realized how close you were; his eyes were already fixed on you, the dim light from the television casting shadows across his face. Your breath caught in your throat; the intensity with which his eyes were watching you, with that hint of molten gold that always mesmerized you, made you blush.

The closeness, the warmth of his body, the electrifying tension; it was no longer just friendship, they both knew that.

They didn’t talk about that moment, but it lingered in their memories, the tension didn’t dissipate, it transformed into an acute awareness of everything they could be if they ever dared to take the first step.

────・:✧∙✦∙✧:・────

Bob didn’t know what to do. His friendship with you had become a beacon of light guiding him through the darkness. From the moment he first saw you, he knew you were different. You understood him like no one else did; you weren’t afraid of him, you didn’t shy away from his problems. You faced them with a smile, because you, too, knew what it meant to carry that weight.

They had forged a real, strong bond that was turning into something more. A palpable tension that both terrified and fascinated him in equal measure.

One he could no longer ignore, not when his eyes were lost in the movement of your lips, in the way your hair fell across your face and his desire to tuck it behind your ears, the warmth of your body against his. How you always fell asleep with your face pressed against his shoulder, how he avoided moving so as not to wake you. How his heart raced every time you smiled at him.

It was a kind of longing he had never felt before.

But he didn’t dare make a move, not when he knew how much love had hurt you. Bob was afraid of hurting you, not only with Void, who always lurked in the darkest corners of his mind, but with the intensity of his feelings.

Could a man like him, with his fragmented past and unstable power, afford to love someone like you? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

────・:✧∙✦∙✧:・────

Of course, the team noticed. No matter how hard Bob tried to fool them, he would never succeed. They had been trained as spies, soldiers, assassins; of course, they were going to notice his absence. No one failed to notice Bob’s increasingly frequent smiles, the endless hours he would disappear for only to return with a happy expression on his face, his apparent attachment to his phone, and how he always seemed to be sending messages to someone.

Yelena, as the closest to him, was the first to see it. But no one wanted to say anything to him. He was happier than they had ever seen him, and they didn’t want to ruin whatever was happening there.

However, she was also very curious and wanted to know who the woman was who had won her friend’s heart (she already knew who you were; she just wanted to hear it from him).

So after a few months, she decided to approach him. It was one of the few afternoons that Bob wasn’t spending outside the complex. She found him in the kitchen trying to make a sandwich, without much success. Yelena leaned casually against the doorframe, watching him with an amused smile.

“So, our Bob has fallen in love,” she blurted out, getting straight to the point.

Bob almost choked on his bread; the tips of his ears began to turn red.

“What? No! What are you talking about?” He tried to sound confused, but his shaky voice gave him away.

Yelena raised an eyebrow, and that was enough for Bob to collapse, dropping his shoulders with a resigned sigh.

“How long have you known?” he asked. He knew there was no point in trying to fool the former Black Widow; she was too sharp, too intelligent.

“For months now, you’ve been disappearing for hours and coming back smiling, practically floating on air,” she said, sounding overly amused. “You bring us homemade food, Bob. Didn’t you think we’d wonder who makes it?”

Bob scratched the back of his neck, not knowing what to say. Clearly, he hadn’t thought that detail through; he was just excited to share your amazing meals with his colleagues.

“It’s… complicated,” he finally said.

“Love is always complicated, Bob,” she said, her voice full of empathy. “So? How do you feel about her?”

He smiled, with a sparkle in his eyes that she had never seen before.

“She is… light. She is one of those people who lights up a room when she walks in, even if she doesn’t think she does. She’s warm and kind, but she also knows how to stand up for herself; she’s lively and very brave. She has a big heart and has suffered a lot, but she keeps getting up every morning, keeps trying, because that’s who she is.”

He paused, searching for the words. “She makes me feel seen, not for my powers, not for my past, but for who I am underneath it all. She’s not afraid of me, she doesn’t make me feel like a lost cause, she smiles at me as if she doesn’t care about all the bad things I’ve done.” His eyes met hers, filled with sincerity. “I fell in love with her, with her smile, with her way of seeing the world, and it’s probably the most real thing I’ve felt in a long time.”

Yelena blinked, moved. She hadn’t expected such an emotional confession; she hadn’t expected Bob to be so in love.

“Wow,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You really love her.”

A shy smile formed on his lips. “I do.”

“Well,” he nodded slowly. “Don’t let her get away, she seems like a good one.”

Bob let out a stifled laugh, a mixture of relief and joy that was beginning to blossom in his chest. The conversation with Yelena had helped him realize how much he loved you; he had finally been able to verbalise his feelings.

Now he just had to pluck up the courage to tell you.

────・:✧∙✦∙✧:・────

The tension had become unbearable, almost suffocating. Every glance, every word, every shared silence had taken on a new meaning, one that neither dared to mention.

One afternoon, Robert accompanied you to your flat after a long day at work and a coffee that felt more like an exchange of prolonged glances than spoken words.

They arrived at your door and the silence, once comfortable, was now heavy with feelings that neither of you expressed. You fiddled with your keys, avoiding his gaze. He stood at a respectful distance, but you could still feel his presence, his warmth enveloping you like a blanket.

Both of you stood motionless in your places, not knowing what to expect.

“Y/N,” his voice was barely a whisper, uncertain. He took a step closer to you, then stopped.

You looked up; his eyes met yours. You lost yourself in the depth of his gaze, in the blue that reminded you of the ocean and the gold that shone like the rays of the sun. You saw through him: the fear, the uncertainty, the longing.

“Bob” his name escaped your lips like a prayer.

He took another step, closing the distance between you until he was standing right in front of you. You could smell his cologne, a scent you had come to associate with safety; the electricity that ran through your body every time he came near. Your heart was beating hard against your ribs, expectant, full of tension.

Robert cautiously raised a hand, his fingers caressing your cheek, soft, a touch that made you close your eyes for a moment. When you opened them, his gaze was already fixed on your lips, then he flickered back to your eyes, asking for permission without words.

He was so close you could feel his warm breath on your face. Your eyes fell to his lips and desire tightened your chest. You wanted, you longed for him to kiss you. But fear, familiar and paralyzing, prevented you.

You remembered the pain, every tear you shed, the deep longing to be loved. That promise you made to yourself and the sweet, lovestruck girl you had to leave behind to keep it. And you couldn’t.

You didn’t have to tell him, he had noticed: how you tensed up in his arms, the change in your gaze. Your heart ached when you saw his disappointed face; you wanted to apologize, you wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but he stopped you.

His hand moved away from your cheek and you immediately missed its warmth. He kissed you on the forehead before pulling away, a kiss that said, 'I know, I don't blame you'.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, his voice a little hoarser than usual, but firm.

You nodded, clutching the keys tightly in your hands, not knowing what to say. You watched him leave, the weight of your decision weighing heavily on your heart.

You knew it was for the best, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

The door to your flat slammed shut, and you leaned against it, breathing erratically. You were sure of one thing: you were hopelessly in love with Robert Reynolds. And the fear you felt in admitting it was almost as great as your love for him.

On the way to the Tower, Robert ran a hand over his face, frustration and fear still present. He had been so close, but then he saw you—saw the hesitation in your eyes. He saw your fear of being hurt again, and he knew he couldn’t be the one to hurt you.

His insecurities, his own fears resurfaced; he could feel Void mocking him in his mind, letting him know that he would never be worthy of your love. That he would only destroy you, because that was the only thing Bob knew how to do.

Good things never lasted long in his life.

Why would you?

────・:✧∙✦∙✧:・────

Despite seeing each other for the rest of the week, things were no longer the same. Glances lingered, silence became uncomfortable, every movement became calculated. The nights became more difficult.

You couldn't sleep, not when every time you closed your eyes you thought of him: his sad eyes, the curve of his smile, the ghost of his lips on your forehead.

You fell asleep thinking about what it would have been like to be kissed by him and woke up knowing that the tension that had built up between you was your fault.

But you didn't know what else to do.

You had let him in, but was that enough? Could you let him love you?

You had spent so much time alone that you forgot what it was like: having someone by your side, the smiles, the butterflies in your stomach. You had forgotten how to be loved.

And you wanted, God, you wanted with all your might to be able to love him back. But fear attacked you, even if he was someone important to you, and you didn't know how to stop it.

Bob wasn't much better off than you.

He had noticed how his eyes had darkened, how his dark circles had deepened. He hadn't been able to sleep in a week; every night was torture for him.

Void was taking advantage of his weakness, mixing memories with nightmares, pressing until he broke his will. And the worst part was that he was starting to believe it, every word.

Every time he reminded him that he was nobody, every time he reminded him that he would never be anything more than a broken man, every time he told him that you would never settle for him. He believed it.

But he hadn't done anything about it, not until that night.

The nightmare dragged him into the darkness, into the part of himself that he tried so hard to keep hidden. However, he was not alone. In the midst of his painful memories, of his fear, there you were. He saw you enveloped in darkness, your eyes filled with tears, screaming his name, begging for help.

And he could only watch as Void destroyed the light he had learned to love, saw you scream as darkness consumed you. Your eyes watched him, hurt, betrayed, and he could do nothing; he was paralyzed.

He had ruined you, and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

He woke up with a start, drenched in cold sweat, his heart pounding against his ribs. He knew at that moment that he had to see you, had to make sure you were okay, that he hadn't hurt you.

He left the Tower in a whirlwind of emotions, walking to your flat lost in his memories. He thought again about your face, how you begged for help, how he had let Void play with his mind to terrify him.

He couldn't let it happen again; Bob couldn't lose you. Not when you were one of the few good things he had in his life. You weren't a superhero, you hadn't been trained as an assassin or a soldier, but you understood him, you listened to him. You loved him without expecting anything in return.

He arrived at your building in the middle of the night, not thinking about the time, how late it was, only caring about you. He knocked on your door with an impatience he rarely showed. He knocked once, twice, three times, until his insistence interrupted your sleep.

You opened the door, your mind still clouded by sleep, your pajamas rumpled and your hair tousled. The dim light in the hallway revealed Robert's figure, his pale face, his wide eyes shining with that familiar golden color. You had never seen him like this before.

"Bob," you whispered, filled with concern. You took his hand, helping him into your flat. His body was shaking, and you could feel how sweaty his palms were. "What happened?"

At that moment, he collapsed, and you barely managed to catch him in your arms as you curled up on the floor together. He hugged you as if he were afraid you would disappear, as if he wanted to make sure you were real, that you were really there with him.

You returned his hug with a heavy heart, gently stroking the curls at the nape of his neck. His face was hidden in the crook of your neck, and you could feel his tears wet the fabric of your pajamas, but you didn't care. You just wanted to make sure he was okay.

"It's okay, I'm here," you said, trying to calm him down. "Talk to me, Bob."

His eyes met yours, filled with anguish. "I had a nightmare, I dreamed about the Void; I dreamed... I dreamed that I hurt you. It was horrible. I had to see you, I had to know that you were okay."

Your gaze softened, you reached out to caress his cheek, he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes.

"I'm here, Bob," you assured him. "You didn't hurt me, you're not going to lose me."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'm not, but I trust you, and that's a start."

And with those words, you showed him how important he was to you. You gave him your trust, something you treasured, and you knew you were making the right decision in doing so.

He pulled you close, cradling you in his arms. Then you heard his voice:

"You don't know how important you are to me. You accepted me, you let me into your life, you made me feel human again; not like a hero, not like Void, just Bob. And I can never thank you enough for that." His voice trembled, heavy with emotion. "I love you, and maybe it's not what you wanted to hear, but I needed to tell you."

His hands caressed your face, and this time he spoke to you, looking into your eyes. "You bring color to my life, you bring me calm, and it scares me because I'm not used to feeling this way. It scares me to hurt you, it terrifies me to lose you. But what I feel for you is real, and not even my deepest fears can change that."

Your heart sank, but not out of fear, but out of understanding. Because you, like him, were scared, and the fact that he opened his heart to you, allowing you to see that vulnerability, changed everything.

Driven by the love you felt for him, which you didn't know how to express, you leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn't soft or sweet. It was a kiss full of desperation, expressing the anguish of months of longing for each other. Full of hope, fear of hurting each other, pure and real affection.

You melted into him, into his warm arms, his gentle hands and his soft lips. You let yourself be carried away by that kiss, by the electric current that ran through your body every time he touched you. And you clung to him even tighter.

Bob kissed you as if your lips were a temple he wanted to worship. And you let him.

They kissed like two souls finally finding their way to each other.

They parted with a gasp, their limbs trembling and their cheeks burning. You smiled at him, your eyes shining.

Bob caressed your cheek tenderly, without loosening his grip on you. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, resting your forehead on his shoulder. "Just... hold me," you asked.

The moonlight shone on their embracing bodies, and you relaxed to the sound of his rapid heartbeat.

They didn't speak again; it wasn't necessary. The connection between you said more than words ever could.

────・:✧∙✦∙✧:・────

They couldn't sleep, not after a night like that. They decided to go out and watch the sunrise on the terrace of your flat. They sat together as the warm sunlight began to illuminate their features.

You moved closer to him, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you intertwined your hand with his. One of his arms wrapped around you, gently caressing your arm.

"Bob," you whispered, looking up into his eyes. "I'm scared, but... I want this to work. I really do."

"Me too," his gaze softened. "But as long as we have each other, I think it will work. We can learn together."

You smiled, leaving a kiss on his shoulder blade. "Thank you for not giving up on me," you said, your voice trembling. "I know I haven't made it easy for you, but you never stopped trying, and you don't know how much that means to me. You saw through me, when no one else had in a long time, and you loved me even after seeing my worst parts."

“That's because I love you on your good days and your bad days. I love you when you're fed up with the world and just want to cry yourself to sleep, I love you when you laugh out loud and when you hum a song thinking no one is listening. I love every part of you.”

Your eyes filled with tears, moved by so much affection. You didn't know what you had done to find a man like him.

"I love you, Bob. Thank you for being my light in the darkness, for making me feel alive again."

He smiled at you, a small, genuine smile. He leaned in and kissed you, gently, full of tenderness.

You had fallen deeply in love, without thinking about the risk. And that thought no longer frightened you, not like before.

Because the pain hadn't gone away, not completely, but the wound was beginning to heal. You had allowed yourself to cry, you had allowed yourself to feel, and you had learned to let go of what hurt you.

You had found someone who didn't see your scars as marks of your failures, but as reminders that you had tried, that you had loved, and even though it didn't always work out, it was real. He drew stars over your scars and made you feel proud of them.

And you loved that about him. You loved him because he had the kindest heart you had ever seen, because with his shy smiles and his gentleness he had given you back something you thought you had lost long ago.

His blue eyes looked at you, deep and sincere, as if he were aware of what you were thinking. You moved closer to him, closing your eyes as the sunlight shone down on you.

In that moment, everything else faded away, as if the universe belonged only to the two of you. There were no superpowers, no broken hearts, no painful pasts. Just two souls who had learned to love each other despite the burdens they carried, who had found peace and comfort in each other.

It was an unspoken promise that, no matter what the world threw at them, they would always have that sanctuary in each other. They would always have each other.

You thought with a smile that they were right: love wasn't for you, but Bob was. He was made for you.

thanks for reading!

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winterswift · 7 days ago