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I Just Feel You : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds/Sentry x Empath!Reader

Summary: Bob Reynolds was broken, and he knew that, but he was trying. He was trying to be better, to control himself. But like Stitch had said: broken, but still good. You were beginning to make Bob believe that he was, in fact, still good.

Warnings: fluff, maybe a TINY bit of angst but not really, idiots in love with some pining, SPOILERS I guess for Thunderbolts*, talk of mental illness and drugs, tiny bit OOC Bob

Word Count: 2,603 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

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“The uh, the glowing doesn’t, like…hurt, does it?”

“Your eyes glow, and it doesn’t hurt you, right? It’s the same thing with my powers,”

Bob was mesmerized as you sat beside him in his bedroom, the soft green glow that seemed to envelop your hands as the feeling in the room changed. It had been a low day for him, his insecurities seeming to catch up with him after a failed training session with Walker and Bucky, and he’d retreated into his room to attempt the meditation tactics you’d been teaching him. But then, you’d walked in behind him, and the aura of pure tranquility and peace that poured off of you engulfed him, and suddenly his low day wasn’t so bad anymore.

The team hadn’t known what you had been capable of, at least not at first. You were skilled with the twin daggers tied to your utility belt, and a decent enough shot when you got your hands on a gun, two things they’d learned quickly down in Valentina’s vault. The sudden addition of Bob, along with Valentina locking them into what they’d quickly learned was an incinerator, had only heightened the anxious feelings in the room as the shouting commenced again between the mercenaries sent to their doom.

“Everyone relax!” you’d suddenly called out, a wave of energy almost washing the room in a soft green for a second. They’d watched your body stumble slightly before you shook your head. “We’re on the clock, we have to work together if we’re getting out of here.”

None of them knew you, so why were they listening to you? It was almost as if the second you’d told them to relax, they were hit with a wave of peace, and they were quickly working together to get out of the vault.

An empath, they’d quickly learned, when you’d torn Bob and Walker apart and taken the former to the side, seemingly having a way of calming him down within moments. Walker had read about another empath in SHIELD files Valentina had managed to get her hands on, an alien woman of some kind that had helped fight off Thanos. Other than her, none of them had ever encountered an empath before.

They quickly caught on that there was no lying to you about how they were feeling, because their emotions radiated off them in waves that you could constantly feel. Yelena’s sadness, John’s guilt, Ava’s desire for a family, the pain that Bucky and Alexei tried so hard to hide, you felt it all, all the time.

That’s why, as Yelena had dug herself out of containment within the Void, she’d stopped to tug you out from under the shelf lying on top of you, pushing you forward toward Bob as he battled with his inner demons, running directly behind you.

You’d paid no mind to Yelena hugging Bob opposite of you, or the rest of the rag-tag team you’d assembled trying to tug him back. You simply clung to him, turning to rest his forehead against your own, hand on his cheek glowing a soft green color as you whispered to him over and over again.

I’m here. I’m not going anywhere…I’ll never leave you. I’m here, Bob.

So, based on what they’d already seen and known, it was no surprise to anyone on The New Avengers that you both gravitated to one another day in and day out.

“It’s just pretty to look at,” Bob had mumbled, still watching your hands that now lay in your lap. He lay on his bed, head resting against one of his many worn-in pillows, just watching you from where you sat cross-legged in front of him. “Make me feel something.”

You’d quirked an eyebrow at his request, before reaching forward and laying your hand on his arm. His tranquil demeanor invaded your senses, a stark contrast to how he’d been when you’d first gotten to his room hours before, and you thought back on Alexei’s story the night before about somehow getting to drive Chris Rock around Washington D.C. months before. You pushed the feeling of every laugh you’d all shared that night into that demeanor that felt so much like Bob, imbuing him with the feeling of that night.

A smile stretched across your face the second you’d heard his laughter begin, unable to tear your eyes away. Happiness suited Bob, you’d known that from the moment you’d joked with him outside the vault, seeing a peak of his smile for the first time. He deserved to feel like this all the time: light, happy, free.

“Thank you,” Bob could feel the flush cross his face as his laughter subsided, stumbling over his words for a moment. “For uh- you know, being here. With me.”

You’d simply smiled back at him, lying down beside him on his bed. Bob shifted to his side so he could look at you, and no matter how many times you’d both lain here talking in the past, it still made his heart race to know you trusted him enough to be here in such a vulnerable position with him.

“You don’t have to thank me. We’ll always be here if you need us,”

“Yeah, but uh, you don’t treat me like a child. Unlike most of them,” Bob had mumbled.

It was a harsh reality, but not incorrect, and Bob knew that you knew it. Bucky managed to treat him like a ticking time bomb around every corner, but given the explanation he’d gotten about New York and what he’d done, and the moments that had slowly come back to him, he didn’t blame him. John, Ava, and Alexei were the worst about it, talking down to him like a child, as if he weren’t a grown man capable of making his own decisions and needed to be babysat twenty-four seven.

Yelena tried not to baby him, but she had her moments still. She constantly had a way of asking if he was okay, no matter the situation, and sometimes it had Bob on the verge of snapping. If he wanted to talk about it, he would, he didn’t need to be babysat.

It was one of the best things about you. You never asked if he was okay, simply just sat with him. You talked to him like you did the rest of the team, you let him come to you with his problems. He’d overheard Walker once say to you that you were the “best means of controlling” him, that you could simply imbue him with any feeling you wanted.

Of course, you’d kicked Walker so hard in the shins for that comment that his skin had broken open and needed to be stitched up. In your eyes, Bob was a person, and you refused to ever manipulate him in any way, shape, or form. It’s what made it so easy for him to fall in love with you.

“You know they mean well,” you’d tried to reassure him. “Yeah, they have their…quirks about it, and maybe they don’t always go about it in the best way. But they do care.”

“Not- not like you do,” Bob shook his head, embarrassed to look at you as his gaze drifted across the room to his bookshelf, the one you’d helped personally curate for him with hundreds of books he’d come to adore. “No, you don’t treat me like- like I’m broken. I am, but at least you don’t treat me like I am.”

“Bob, you’re-”

“Don’t say I’m not-”

“You might be broken, but you’re still good,” the smile on your face slowly morphed into a smirk. “That’s from this Disney movie-”

“I grew up in Florida, I’ve seen Lilo and Stitch. I might’ve been addicted to meth but uh- it didn’t entirely screw up my memory,”

The shared laughter between you both died down as there was a shift in Bob’s aura, and it washed over you in another wave of emotion.

It wasn’t the first time you’d felt it, the affection pouring off of him and in your direction. It was always there, growing, and almost always buried beneath his everyday feelings. But in moments like this, it was the most prominent feeling radiating off of him, and it did nothing to stop the flush that covered your own cheeks.

Bob simply watched as your hand found his cheek, layin lightly ontop of his skin as you looked at him.

“That little blue alien has a point. We’re all a little broken, Bob, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t good, or can’t become good. Broken isn’t bad, you just have to put the pieces back together,”

Bob couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, until the feeling that seemed to be flooding off of you and seeping into his very skin and being washed over him. He closed his eyes for just a moment, humming to himself at the feeling as his flush persisted over his skin.

“I- I don’t know what you’re making me feel right now, but it’s…it’s nice,”

“I’m not making you feel anything,” his eyes shot open, to see you still simply looking at him with that tiny grin, thumb still running over the skin of his cheek. “It’s…it’s just me.”

“...I just feel you?”

“Just me,” you took your hand away, not missing the way he chased after the feeling. You held it between you, showing the soft glow around you. “I’d never force you to feel something, not unless you asked. What you’re feeling it’s just all of my emotions mixed together. It’s just…me.”

“I…I like feeling that,”

“I know you do,” your grin became a smirk again as you leaned your head closer to him. “I think you forget, I can feel your feelings…all of them.”

Bob’s grin dropped for a moment as the weight of your comment settled on him. His feelings, loud and begging to burst out of him, were clear as day to you. Of course you knew, but you weren’t making fun of him, you were simply watching him as if you were waiting for him to finally admit it all.

“Can- can I kiss you?”

You didn’t answer with words, you answered with a simple kiss pressed to his lips. Bob responded fairly quickly after a moment, the feeling that he now knew was simply just you washing over him, as you reached out to hold you close to him, completely wrapped up in everything that was you.

Moving from the intimate friendship you’d shared to the now intimate romantic relationship between you and Bob hadn’t come as a shock to anyone, least of all to the pair of you. It was the softest of relationships, the softest of moments shared between you both. Bob always had his up days and his down days, but you were always at his side, allowing him to navigate his life as he chose to navigate it.

The team had been sent out on a mission that didn’t require everyone, and you and Bob had been volunteered to stay back. Neither of you cared much. After Walker had almost sent Bob spiraling in training the other day, a day to decompress was truly needed.

Bob found himself sitting on the common room couch, watching a random movie that he’d had on his list to watch for a while now, playing. You were lying across the rest of the couch, head resting in his lap as you watched along with him, sitting in a comfortable silence together.

One of Bob’s hands was in both of yours, your fingers dancing across his own, tracing the lines down his palms. His eyes flicked down to you every few moments, the smile on his face permanently etched there every time he looked at you.

“What’s your favorite flower?”

Bob paused, eyebrows furrowed as he glanced down at you, but your eyes were still locked onto his hand.

“Uh…an orange blossom. It was- it was my mom’s favorite flower. It’s the state flower of Florida,”

You’d hummed, before suddenly sitting upright, turning to face him, with one of his hands still sitting between your own. Bob watched you as you contemplated something before looking up at him.

“Do you trust me?” you paused for a moment before continuing. “There’s this thing I can do…I’ve only ever done it once, but…I had an idea.”

“I…I trust you,”

His hand laid in yours, palm up, as you closed your eyes. A single finger pointed down to his skin as Bob watched, that familiar green glow emitting as you began to trace over his palm.

There was the smallest of tingles at the feelings, of the tip of your finger and point of your nail tracing around on his palm. The moment you stopped and opened your eyes, you both looked down at his palm.

The smallest outline of a little orange blossom, just big enough to see, etched in that same glowing green on his palm. The light faded, as did the shape itself, molding into his skin.

Bob looked up at you, taking his hand back into his own lap, as you watched him.

“Pretend I’m not here, that I’m not in the room. You’re alone in your room…now think about it, the little flower,”

Bob did just as you instructed, closing his eyes and focusing his thoughts on that little flower. It didn’t take long until that tingle feeling returned to his skin, and he felt a wave of emotions rush over him.

Your quiet contentment, that same feeling you gave off every night as you read yet another book at one of your bedroom windows overlooking the skyline of New York. That hint of anxiety, the one that the team only noticed on missions in the most tense of moments. The overwhelming feeling of affection, adoration, and love that was directed straight at him and only him. Bob opened his eyes, tears threatening to fall as he looked back at you, at the nervous look on your face as you waited.

“I…I just feel you,”

“It’s called an imprint, an emotional imprint,” you explained gently as Bob looked back down at his hand, at the flower that was fading in glow once again. “I’ve done it once before, just never…on someone. I wasn’t sure it would work. I can imbue it with emotion, so say you want to feel warm and content under a blanket, I can place an imprint on it so that that’s what you feel the second you’re under it.”

Bob was watching you in pure amazement, flexing his hand.

“Why give me this?”

“So that you know that, even if I’m not with you,” you took a deep breath, a nervous smile still dancing on your lips. “I’m always with you. I could be halfway across the world, and I’m still always with you. So that you know…you’re never alone. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

There really weren’t words to say for the way you considered Bob’s feelings at every turn. The way you somehow managed to give him the space he needed to fix his own life, while also holding his hand through it.

In a rare moment of confidence, Bob reached forward and tugged you into a soft, sweet, loving kiss. A kiss where he knew you’d feel the way his affection and adoration shift: straight into love.

You did feel it. He never had to say it. A silent confession was all that was needed between the two of you in the dim lighting of the Watchtower’s common room.

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