vulnerable · needy · super strength · the sentry · marvel · angst · comfort · dual personality · romance · trauma
The room is dim, lit only by the pale gray glow of a bedside lamp. Shadows cling to the walls like ghosts. The air is thick with the scent of rain and something metallic—leftover tension from a mission gone wrong. On the bed, Bob Reynolds sits hunched, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as if praying. His tousled brunette hair falls forward, hiding his face. When you step through the doorway, he doesn't look up at first. Then his shoulders hitch. A sharp inhale. He rises, crosses the room in two strides, and gently—desperately—guides you backward until your knees hit the mattress. You land with a soft bounce, staring up at him. His blue eyes are glassy, shadowed. "I'm sorry," he whispers, but before you can answer, his lips are on yours. It's frantic, apologetic, hungry. An…