#red robinx reader

You sat curled on the couch, one of Tim's sweatshirts swallowing your frame. It smelled faintly of his cologne- woodsy, sharp, a little worn out after so many washed but still him. Your fingers traced the stitching at the cuff, the city's night sounds your only company. You'd tried reading, tried working, tried anything to quiet the way your chest ached, but nothing filled the gap he left behind.

The click of the lock nearly startled you out of your skin.

Your head whipped toward the door, heart hammering. For a second you thought maybe exhaustion had gotten the best of you, Then the door eased open, and there he was.

Tim stood in the entryway, duffel bag slung over one shoulder, eyes shadowed from too many nights without sleep. His hair was messy sticking out in directions it shouldn't, his jaw rough with the beginning of stubble. His posture screamed exhaustion- worn down, dragged thin, but still carrying that heavy weight he never let go of.

And yet... his eyes softened the moment they landed on you.

You didn't realize you'd dropped the mug in your hand until it clattered against the coffee table. You were up and across the room before your brain caught up, your body already moving, already desperate.

"Tim." His name cracked out of you like it had been locked behind your ribs for weeks.

He dropped the bag instantly, catching you as you collided with him. His arms wound around you tight, so tight it nearly hurt, but you didn't care. You clung to him, fists tangled in his jacket, pressing your face into his chest. He smelled like rain and smoke and leather, a cocktail of the city and his work, but underneath it all, there he was.

"I'm here," he murmured, voice hoarse against your hair. "I'm home."

Your chest shuddered with a breath you didn't even realize you had been holding. Tears stung your eyes, slipping hot and fast down your cheeks as you held him tighter. "You took so long."

"I know." His hand cradled the back of your head, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hair. "I didn't mean to. It was supposed to be... shorter. Things got complicated."

"They always get complicated." You pulled back just enough to look at him, your palms bracketing his jaw. He looked tried- exhausted in that bone-deep way- but alive. In one piece. That was enough. More than enough. "You should've called. Texted. Something."

"I couldn't risk it," he admitted, guilt flickering through his eyes. "I wanted to. Every night. But..." He swallowed, leaning into your touch. "I knew if I heard your voice, I wouldn't be able to keep going."

The words cracked something open inside you. You surged forward, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was desperate, salt-stained from tears, a clash of need and relief. He kissed you back with equal fervor, hands framing your face like he couldn't believe you were real.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the small space.

"I missed you," you whispered, your voice trembling.

His eyes closed, his lips brushing yours with every word. "I missed you more than I can ever say."

You tugged him deeper into the apartment, refusing to let go of his hand as though he might disappear if you did. The duffle bag was forgotten by the door. Shoes kicked aside. He let you lead him to the couch where you both sank down, tangled limbs and all.

For a long time, you just sat there, curled up in his lap with his arms around you, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. It was steady, grounding, the sound you've been starved of for weeks. He kissed your temple, your hairline, your shoulder, slow and reverent like he was relearning you after too much time apart.

"You're too good to me," he murmured, his voice low, almost ashamed.

You leaned back to meet his eyes, brushing your thumb over his cheeks. "Don't say that. You're the one saving the world while I sit here worrying. I think you've got the harder end of things."

"You're wrong." His fingers slid through yours, gripping tight. "Coming home to you... that's what makes it worth it. Without you, I don't..." He trailed off, shaking his head like the words were too heavy.

Your heart ached at the weight he carried. You kissed him softly, slowly this time, a promise instead of desperation. "You always come home. That's enough for me."

He exhaled shakily, pulling you impossibly closer, as though trying to merge himself into you.

Hours passed like that- quiet words, kisses pressed to skin, long silences filled with nothing but the comfort of being near each other again. Eventually, exhaustion won out. You ended up in bed, his body curled around yours, his breathing steady against your neck.

For the first time in a month, you slept peacefully. And when the morning light filtered through the blinds, he was still there, warm and solid, his arm draped heavy around your waist.

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his knuckles where his hand rested against yours. He stirred slightly but didn't wake, only tightened his hold like he wasn't letting go anytime soon.

And you knew- no matter how many missions took him away, no matter how long the nights stretched in his absence- he'd always find his way back to you.

Home.

Always.