#Get it Ms. Roberts!!

[brookghaib-blog]

The ghost I left behind

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Reynolds x reader

Summary: Y/N and Bob had a life before he disappear, full of love, hope, and a lot of chaos, but they managed each other, she was the only one who truly could make him avoid the void inside his mind. How could he turn his only light into a shadow in his mind ?

Note: I wrote this with Sunshine & Rain.. By Kali Uchis, feel free to enjoy this with that on repeat to really feel it burn. Also please somebody give me HD gifs asap. Also if you hadn't read the preview yet, I recommend it!

Word count: 4,7k

Preview

--

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting an ugly green tinge over the already-drab walls of the 23rd Precinct. Y/N pushed the door open with her elbow, hands full—one holding a stack of wrinkled flyers with Bob’s photo on them, the other clutching the hem of her coat closed.

The front desk officer didn’t even look up.

The bell above the door had long since stopped ringing for her.

She shuffled to the counter. She was wearing the same hoodie she always wore—his hoodie, oversized and faintly smelling of old laundry detergent and smoke. Her stomach was just beginning to curve outward, subtle but undeniable beneath the fabric. Four months.

“Hey, Ms. Y/L/N,” the desk sergeant mumbled without meeting her eyes. “You’re back.”

She placed the flyers down with quiet urgency. “I printed new ones. Better quality. I added a note about the reward this time, in case someone’s seen him.”

The sergeant sighed, his pen clinking on the desk as he leaned back.

“I told you last time. No new leads.”

“I’m not asking for a miracle,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Just—please check if anything came in since last week. A tip. A sighting. A… a body, no, not that, but anything really.”

A uniformed officer behind the counter—young, smug, cruel in that casual way people are when they forget you’re human—snorted. “Lady, you know the guy was a junkie, right? Odds are he got tired of playing house and ran off when the stick turned pink.”

Y/N’s heart splintered. Her hands clenched the flyers. “Don’t—don’t you dare say that about him.”

He shrugged. “C’mon. You don’t have to be a detective to figure it out. He got high and vanished. People like that don’t come back. Especially not to play Daddy.”

“He’s not like that!” she shouted, her voice cracking.

The room went quiet.

A throat cleared gently behind her.

“Y/N?” came the familiar rasp of Officer Cooper, stepping out from a side hallway. Silver-haired and weathered, he’d been on the force longer than most of the others had been alive. He always spoke softly, like he didn’t want to scare away whatever kindness he still believed in.

Y/N blinked back tears and turned.

“Let’s take a walk,” Cooper said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get some air.”

--

Outside, the sky was overcast. Cold. Cooper lit a cigarette but didn’t offer her one.

They stood in silence next to the station’s rusted bench. She stared down at the pavement, at her frayed shoelaces, at the grey world around her.

Then she broke.

“I can’t sleep, Mr. Cooper,” she whispered, voice small. “I dream about him every night. I wake up thinking maybe he’s home, maybe I missed a call. But then it’s just me. Just me and this baby. I don’t know what I’m doing—I don’t have money, I don’t have family. He was my family.”

Cooper nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.

“I know you’ve been kind,” she said, her voice rising. “You’ve listened. But I need more. I need you to put more people on this. I need you to look for him like he’s not just some addict you all gave up on.”

She wiped her face with her sleeve. Her tears soaked through it instantly.

“Please. Just… just try. For me. For him. For our child. Bobby wouldn’t leave me. Not like this. Not without a word. Not him.”

Cooper took a long drag from his cigarette. Then sighed.

“There’s something I have to tell you.”

She froze.

His eyes softened, like he wished he could lie. Like he hated what he was about to do.

“We finally traced a lead. Someone matching Bob’s description was seen boarding a flight out of the country.”

She couldn’t breathe.

“Where?”

“Malaysia,” he said quietly.

The word hit her like a sledgehammer.

“No,” she whispered. “That’s… no, he wouldn’t… He didn’t have money. He didn’t have a passport.”

“He did,” Cooper said, sadly. “We checked. It was valid. Bought the ticket in cash. No forwarding contact. No signs of foul play.”

She staggered back, her body suddenly too heavy. Her hand flew to her belly as if to anchor herself.

“So… you’re saying he left me.”

“I’m saying,” Cooper murmured, “that we don’t believe he vanished. We believe he made a choice.”

“No,” she choked. “No, he didn’t. He loved me. We were building a life. He called me his miracle. We were deciding on a name. He cried when I told him. He held me all night and said he’d never leave.”

Cooper looked down at his shoes.

“I know, kid.”

Tears streamed down her face now, silent and relentless.

“I waited. Every day, I waited,” she sobbed. “I believed in him. I still do. He’s sick, not a monster. You’re telling me he abandoned his child before the baby was even born?”

Cooper said nothing. There was nothing to say.

Finally, she whispered, “Is he coming back ? Did he buy two tickets? He did, right, to come back to me, to us?”

Cooper crushed the cigarette beneath his boot.

“One way ticket. Maybe it's better if you go home, take a breath, and just... you can call me, ok ? I have a daughter just like you and she's an amzing mother, you will be too. You have to go to work, just rest.”

She just looked at the flyers in her hand. For months he just disappear, all her money spent in paper, organizing searches, paying potential dealers for a tip of his whereabouts.

"So this is it?"

--

2 years ago

The Cluckin’ Bucket wasn’t exactly a place dreams were made of.

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like a swarm of angry flies, flickering over cracked linoleum tiles and chipped yellow walls. The scent of fried oil hung in the air like a second skin, clinging to every surface. It was 11:43 PM, just seventeen minutes before closing, and the only two souls left inside were Y/N, wiping down tables, and Bob, in the back room, peeling off the heavy, foam-rubber chicken costume that had been slowly cooking him alive for eight hours.

He winced as he pulled the beak off his head, his sweat-damp hair sticking up in odd places. His T-shirt clung to his back, his jeans sagged slightly on his hips, and his bones ached in that weird, chemically induced way that only came from a cocktail of meth and shame.

He hadn’t wanted this job.

He sure as hell hadn’t wanted the chicken suit.

But here he was—twenty-something, barely scraping by, dancing on a street corner in 95-degree heat to try and convince people to buy discount wings.

He tucked the suit away in its plastic bag, sighing, and padded into the dining area, rubbing the back of his neck.

And then he saw her.

Y/N.

The new waitress.

She was crouched in front of the soda machine, elbow-deep in the syrup line, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, earbuds dangling from her neck. She was humming something—Fleetwood Mac, he thought—but he couldn’t be sure.

She wore her name tag crooked on her chest, and there was a smudge of sauce on her cheek.

But to him? She looked like she belonged in a painting.

He froze for a second too long, just staring.

God, she was pretty. And he was in a chicken suit just minutes ago. And probably still smelled like sweat and fryer grease. Cool. Real smooth.

She glanced up—and caught him.

Her eyebrows rose a little. Her mouth quirked.

“Robert, right?” she asked, tilting her head. Her voice was warm, amused, like she already knew the answer.

His throat caught. “Uh. Yeah. Bob, actually.”

“Bob,” she repeated, like she was trying it on. “Can you help me with something?”

“Sure,” he said too quickly.

She straightened, gesturing toward a box at her feet. “I’m trying to get this up to the top shelf, but it’s heavier than it looks and my arms are, like, noodles right now.”

He nodded and stepped forward, kneeling to lift the box without much effort. He was wiry, but stronger than he looked. She watched him, subtly biting the corner of her lip.

“Thanks,” she said as he set the box down on the shelf. “You’re stronger than you look.”

He gave a sheepish laugh, rubbing his arm. “Yeah, well… spinning a giant arrow for eight hours a day builds muscles, I guess.”

She smiled. “Don’t sell yourself short. That costume? Kinda iconic.”

He turned bright red. “Oh, God.”

“What?” she teased. “I think it’s cute.”

“Cute?”

“Yeah,” she said, wiping her hands on a rag. “I mean, it takes a certain kind of confidence to dance in a chicken suit and not die of embarrassment.”

He snorted. “More like a lack of options.”

There was a pause—just a second too long.

“Still,” she said, voice softer now, “You’ve got a good smile, Bob.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I said, you’ve got a good smile.”

He swallowed, heart hammering for no reason he could explain. She was looking at him. Not through him. Not with pity. Just… seeing him. And it had been a long time since someone had done that.

They started talking more after that.

Little things. Jokes during their shifts. Late-night scraps of conversation while wiping down counters or restocking sauces. She’d bring him a free soda when she noticed him flagging. He’d sweep her section when her feet were too tired to move. Neither of them said it out loud, but it became something—a rhythm, a comfort.

He never told her about the drugs.

But she saw the shadows under his eyes. The way his hands shook sometimes. The way he chewed his inner cheek when he thought no one was looking. She didn’t ask, and he was grateful.

Until that one night.

They were walking out together. The parking lot was empty, bathed in yellow streetlight. The air was thick with humidity. Bob carried his bag over his shoulder, still fidgeting with the zipper.

Y/N was quiet beside him, arms crossed over her chest.

They reached the edge of the lot. Her car was parked beneath the flickering sign.

He stopped. She didn’t.

Then, she turned back.

“Hey,” she said. “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

He blinked. “Uh. No. Why?”

She smiled—and it knocked the air out of him.

“Just wondering,” she said, stepping a little closer. “Because if you don’t… I was wondering when you were going to ask me out.”

He stared at her, stunned.

“I—I mean—I didn’t think you’d—why would you—” he stammered.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Bob. I like you.”

He swallowed. “You do?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Even with the chicken suit.”

And then, because his body moved before his fear could stop him, he smiled—wide and real.

“I… would really like that.”

“Good,” she said, walking backwards toward her car, grinning. “Then don’t keep me waiting.”

He stood in the parking lot long after she drove away, heart pounding, a dumb grin on his face.

For the first time in years, the night didn’t feel so heavy.

--

Central Park in the early evening was dipped in gold.

The last fingers of sunlight threaded through the leaves like warm lace, casting dappled shadows on the grass. It was one of those rare New York days—cool but not cold, the air kissed with early autumn, the sky a watercolor blend of lavender and peach.

Bob stood awkwardly near a bench beneath a sycamore tree, tugging at the hem of his second-best flannel. His fingers twitched in his jacket pocket, where he kept the meth pipe he hadn’t touched in two days.

He was sweating.

Not from the weather.

From her.

Because Y/N was there, spreading out a gingham blanket on the grass near the edge of a pond, her hair tucked behind her ears, a small cooler bag next to her feet.

She looked like someone who belonged in the light.

He still wasn’t convinced he deserved to be sitting beside her in it.

“Okay,” she said, brushing imaginary dust from the blanket. “Don’t laugh. I made too much.”

Bob walked over slowly, hands in his pockets, watching as she pulled out a series of plastic containers and neatly wrapped foil packets. Sandwiches. Potato salad. Tiny cupcakes with blue frosting that had clearly been made with care. Even folded napkins.

“Holy crap,” he said, blinking. “Did you raid a deli or something?”

She grinned. “No, I made it. I… I like cooking.”

“For me?”

She looked at him like it was obvious. “Yeah. Who else would I be trying to impress, Bob?”

He knelt on the blanket, legs crossed, still a little stiff, watching her with barely restrained disbelief. “I just… I’ve never had anyone… you know. Do something like this. For me.”

She shrugged, setting a container between them. “Well, now you have.”

He picked up a sandwich, still stunned. “You made all this… for a guy who dresses like a poultry mascot?”

She chuckled. “I happen to like that guy.”

Bob opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He just smiled—a shy, crooked thing—and took a bite.

Bob sat on the edge of the picnic blanket, chewing slowly, trying not to look too shocked by how good the sandwich in his hand was. “Okay,” he said between bites, “you’re going to have to explain to me how you made this taste like something from an actual restaurant. What’s in this?”

Y/N grinned, tucking a napkin under her leg to keep it from blowing away. “Nothing fancy. Chicken, basil, a little Dijon, homemade aioli—”

“H-homemade? Who even makes aioli? That’s, like, elite-level cooking.”

“I like cooking,” she said simply, with a shrug. “It calms me down. Helps me feel like I’ve got control over something, you know?”

He nodded slowly, finishing the last of the sandwich. “Yeah, I get that. It’s like spinning that dumb arrow—kinda zen, if you ignore the back pain.”

She laughed. “That’s tragic. I cook to relax, and you give yourself arthritis.”

“Hey, I’m not proud.”

She passed him a small container of fruit salad, their knees brushing slightly under the blanket. There was a breeze picking up, threading through the grass, fluttering the corners of the gingham cloth. In the distance, a dog barked, and somewhere near the pond a violinist had started playing faintly.

“You live with roommates? Alone?” Bob asked suddenly, trying to picture what her place might look like. “Your kitchen’s probably better than mine. Mine’s got, like, one working burner and a fridge that sounds like it’s dying.”

She hesitated, then looked down at her hands. “Actually… I live alone now.”

His brows lifted slightly, sensing the shift in her voice.

“I didn’t always,” she continued. “My ex boyfriend and I used to live together, in this little apartment off Bedford. It was cramped, noisy, walls were paper-thin… but it was kind of cozy. It felt like ours.”

Bob stayed quiet, letting her speak.

“He left about nine months ago,” she said. “For someone else. Someone with shinier hair and a ‘real’ job, probably. I don’t know. One day he said he didn’t love me anymore, and that was that.”

Bob’s chest tightened.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

She waved a hand, but her smile was tinged with something older than the moment. “It sucked. But if he hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have taken the job at Cluckin’ Bucket. Wouldn’t have ended up on night shifts. Wouldn’t have met you.”

He blinked, thrown. “That’s… wow. You really think that’s a good trade?”

She shrugged again, but this time with a little smile. “I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

Bob looked down at the cupcakes, the homemade food, the folded napkins. All for him.

He cleared his throat. “I just don’t get it. How someone could be with you and let you slip through their fingers. That guy had the f—freaking lottery ticket and he just… walked away?”

She glanced at him, visibly surprised by the fire in his voice.

“I mean it,” Bob said, quieter now. “If it were me… I’d never let you go.”

The moment stretched between them, warm and tender.

She looked at him for a long time, something soft and wounded behind her eyes.

“You’re sweet, Bob,” she said quietly.

“I’m not,” he replied without thinking. “Not really. But I want to be.”

Her lips parted like she wanted to say something else, but instead she reached for another sandwich.

They sat in silence again, this time heavier.

Then Bob spoke, his voice rough.

“I don’t have anyone either,” he said. “No family. No ties. Just a bunch of mistakes and a backpack that smells like old socks.”

She looked at him. “No one at all?”

He shrugged. “Not since my mom passed. My dad was… not really in the picture. I’ve kinda just been floating since then.”

“Me too,” she said. “It’s like… we’re both ghosts in a city full of people who have somewhere to be.”

That hit him harder than he expected.

He nodded slowly, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“I always thought,” he murmured, “that maybe I was just built to be alone. Like I was meant to burn out early. Some people are just… too messed up to fit.”

She leaned toward him, brushing a thumb gently against his hand.

“You’re not messed up,” she whispered. “You’re just… lost. And that’s not the same thing.”

His heart nearly stopped.

“You’re the first person who’s ever said that,” he admitted.

“Then everyone else was wrong.”

He didn’t know what came over him then—maybe it was the sunset or the food or the warmth of her fingers against his—but he turned toward her, and for once, he didn’t feel ashamed.

“Can I… see you again?” he asked.

Her eyes crinkled with a smile.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

--

present day

The apartment was still.

Still in the way a place only gets after someone is gone—not just physically, but really gone. Like the soul of the place had followed them out the door and taken all the warmth with it.

The late afternoon sun filtered weakly through the dusty blinds, casting long stripes across the bed where Y/N lay curled on her side. Their bed. His side still had the indent of his body, even after months. She hadn’t brought herself to sleep on it, like maybe the dip in the mattress could hold his shape long enough for him to come back and fill it.

Her hand cradled the curve of her growing belly. Just past four months. She was showing now. Her body knew, even if the world didn’t care.

Across from her on the nightstand were the pictures—cheap Polaroids and one dog-eared photo booth strip from Coney Island, taped crookedly to the wall. Bob’s stupid half-smile grinned back at her in every frame. The one where he was pretending to flex with a corndog in hand. The one where he looked away, caught off-guard, cheeks red from laughing at something she said.

Her thumb brushed the edge of the picture. Her throat burned.

“God, Bobby…” Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

A fresh wave of tears pressed from behind her eyes and spilled freely down her cheek, soaking into the pillow. She clutched the blanket tighter with one hand and her belly with the other.

“You left,” she murmured. “You really left.”

She bit her lip so hard it nearly split, the ache in her chest unbearable.

“I defended you. I told them you’d never run. I called every hospital, every shelter. Put up posters with your face in every goddamn corner of this city. I begged the police to keep looking because I knew something was wrong. I thought maybe you were in trouble, or hurt… or…”

Her voice broke, raw and low.

“Turns out you were just gone. Just—just done.”

She sat up slowly, wiping her face with the sleeve of Bob’s old hoodie—still too big on her, still faintly smelling like him, like cologne and smoke and something warmer.

“You saved up that money. You actually planned this,” she whispered, hollow. “You looked me in the eye… kissed me goodnight, touched our baby, and you already knew you weren’t coming back.”

Her breath hitched as her hand moved over the swell of her belly, as if trying to protect the child from the truth pressing in.

“You knew I was pregnant. And you still left. That’s what makes it worse. Not the addiction. Not the lies. That. You knew, and it didn’t stop you.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“I gave up everything trying to find you, Bobby,” she said, louder now, choking on the grief. “I drained what little savings I had. Every cent I scraped together went to flyers, gas, private search sites. I even hired some guy off Craigslist who said he could ‘track people down for a price.’ That was three hundred dollars I’ll never get back.”

She laughed bitterly through her tears.

“I work double shifts now just to stay afloat. Still serving greasy food to assholes who think I’m invisible—coming home to this empty fucking apartment, sleeping in a bed that feels like a coffin.”

She fell back onto the pillow and stared up at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling in short, shallow breaths.

“I really thought you were different,” she whispered. “I did. I thought… maybe this time, it wouldn’t end with someone leaving. I really get left for everything else at this point, not good enough, prettier women, drugs. And maybe that’s worse. Because at least he looked me in the eye and said goodbye. Or maybe…did you find a better woman Bobby?”

Her lips trembled as another sob escaped.

“You said you loved me. You said we were in this together. We made something together, Bobby. We made a life. And you just… vanished.”

She reached for the ultrasound photo tucked into the drawer and held it to her chest.

“I swear he moves and grows everytime I cry,” she whispered. “Like he knows I need a distraction.”

She ran her hand down her belly again, slower this time.

“But I won’t let them grow up thinking he or she was a mistake. Or unworth staying for.”

The room felt unbearably quiet now. Still, again. But this time, colder.

She closed her eyes and curled tighter around herself, the photos, the baby. Everything she had left.

“I’ll do this without you,” she said softly. “Even if it breaks me.”

And in the stillness, in the tiny home they had built, she stares at the ceiling. Thinking. Doubting. Is this all that life can be ? How would she be able to take care of a little human? Maybe this baby wasn't meant for her. Maybe it was someone else's place to be their mom.

Maybe that's it.

Then I will wait. Just until the baby comes.

[s1eepy-bear]

‧୨🌿୧ ₊˚ 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥・𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐

pairing: robert 'bob' reynolds x ex shield agent! f!reader

synopsis: it's your first day on duty and you bring donuts for the team. a silly morning encounter reveals bob's hidden vulnerabilities. you quickly developing an unexpected connection with him.

content: no y/n, silly, fluffy, cute, slow burn

warnings: MDNI! not proof read, bob's abs lol

a/n: i finally thought of a title for this series! i wonder if i'm getting too hung up on everyone else's interaction with the reader, should i focus more on her interactions with bob? let me know <3 Chapter 1

That night, a soft, balmy breeze billowed your open curtains, bringing with it the faint, persistent pulse of New York's distant hustle and bustle.

You lie in bed, soft sheets enveloping you as you try to drift into sleep. Behind your closed eyelids, a persistent image gnawed at you: Bob’s red, shy face. 

A sliver of guilt hangs heavy in your chest for having flustered him so abruptly. You now have a level of access to those in the spotlight that SHIELD had never granted you, and the excitement of your new proximity to the New Avengers had entirely swept you away. You must remain professional.

Just two years ago, Bob slowly inked New York City away into darkness, turning people into shadows one by one, causing severe damage to the city and resulted in numerous injuries.

With this in mind, flirting feels frivolous and irresponsible when confronted with the ghosts of his past. And if he is in a vulnerable head space, you don’t want to be the one to take advantage of it, even if it's unintentional. This isn’t the kind of crush you can afford to have.

With these thoughts plaguing your mind and the heavy exhaustion from the busy work day, you slowly drift off to sleep.

༉ ✧˚₊

The following morning, the sun drenched the landscape, laying a shimmering, translucent veil over everything. A gentle breeze dances through the air, the sun is still low on the horizon.

You woke up extra early to drop by the charming donut shop you frequent to grab breakfast for the whole team. You opted for something simple, sugar donuts, until you learn everyone’s preferences.

You walk into the tower from your car, the bag of donuts in hand, thoughtfully greeting the other workers maintaining the tower along the way.

The light above the sensor in the elevator beeps green when you touch the access key to it and whirs into motion, swiftly bringing you to your desired floor.

The common area where the team welcomed you yesterday is now dark due to the curtains being drawn. The space is quiet, spared from the steady, low hum of the air conditioner running. You check your watch: only 6:10. Most of them are probably asleep.

You decide to take this time to brew some fresh, actually hot, coffee. While the pot gurgles, you tidy up various spots in the common area and kitchen: throw pillows on the floor, a bag of Goldfish crackers left open, a few books and magazines scattered around, dishes in the sink, cereal pieces that didn’t make it to the mouth, expired things in the fridge.

The smell of the fresh brew fills the space as you continue to busy yourself with noting down numerous items, food, and snacks for restocking. You silently note to yourself to get everyone’s phone number so they can get ahold of you if they ever need something.

“Oh, good morning,” Yelena says as she walks out from a corridor, which you learned from her yesterday, leads to the gym.

Her face shiny from a thin sheen of sweat as she makes her way toward you, wiping the sweat off with the towel around her neck. Her short blonde hair is pushed back with a headband.

“Good morning, Ms. Belova,” you greet her back with a mellow murmur, the sound soft enough not to disturb the early morning quiet. 

“No, no, none of that,” she plops herself down on one of the leather bar stools by the kitchen island, the stool legs scraping faintly against the floor.

You tilt your head, a question forming in your head. The coffee maker gives a final satisfying beep, its brewing cycle complete.

“Just Yelena,” she clarifies. 

 You smile at that, “Well, Yelena, would you like some coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

You collect two mugs from the cabinet, the ceramic cool beneath your fingers, and fill them both with fresh coffee. Wisps of steam rose lazily from the dark liquid. The rich aroma blossoms in the air as you set one mug before her. She nods appreciatively.

“So, you think Bob is cute, huh?” Just as you take a sip out of your mug, Yelena inquires suddenly with a playful glint in her eyes. The unexpected question catches in your throat, forcing a sharp, spluttering cough.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” your initial serene expression crumples, replaced by a deep flush rising to your cheeks. You lower your cup to press your fingers between your eyebrows in a flustered manner.

Yelena laughs, a low, throaty sound, propping her elbows on the counter.

“Come on, you wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it.”

“It’s not that I didn’t mean it, it’s just…it was unprofessional,” you avert your gaze, suddenly the bleak marble counter looks very interesting. 

“Who cares!” She lightheartedly rolls her eyes. “We’re hardly a professional organization. You just said what was on your mind.”

“Still,” you insist softly, tracing the rim of your mug with your thumb, the ceramic now warmer due to your body heat and hot beverage.

The Watchtower's dormant systems hummed—a low, almost imperceptible sound that seemed to amplify the awkward quietness. Your downcast eyes catch the wrinkled paper bag of donuts—your saving grace.

“Anyways…care for a donut?” You ask as you hold up the bag. “I settled for something basic since I don’t know what everyone liked. Let me know if you have any preferences,” Yelena gives you a knowing look, taking a deliberate sip of her coffee to hide her lips twitching with suppressed amusement. She is letting you off the hook, for now.

Yelena reaches for the bag, her fingers lightly hover as she carefully chooses what must be the perfect one. She takes a huge bite and lets out a genuine, drawn-out groan of pleasure. “Mmm! This is good, actually good, better than whatever dad tries to make.” 

You let out a quick exhale of a laugh. The tight knot of tension in your chest finally loosens. You pluck a donut for yourself, not bothering with Yelena’s meticulous selection process.

Even with her teasing about Bob, a warm wave of relief washes over you. You've found a connection with at least one person on this team. Well, there's Alexei too, but Alexei is friendly right off the bat, like a big, boisterous golden retriever.

As you and Yelena enjoy your donuts, a quiet murmur of conversation and two pairs of footsteps draw steadily louder. 

“Wow, looks real tidy out here,” Walker’s voice announces from just around the corner.

“Smells real good too,” he steps fully into the kitchen, Bucky Barnes following close behind him. They both are in athletic gear, ready for a morning workout.

“Good morning, Mr. Walker, and nice to finally meet you, Mr. Barnes.” Your lips curve upward in a polite greeting. Bucky simply returns it with a nod and a small smile of his own, while Yelena tosses a casual, “What’s up, losers?” their way.

“Some coffee and donuts?” you offer, holding up the bag. Both of the super soldiers accept enthusiastically. While they chat with Yelena, you busy yourself with coffee and mugs.

"Maybe this secretary thing is awesome after all," Walker remarks complacently with a smirk, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement.

“Walker,” Bucky lectures, his voice a low, warning rumble—probably worrying about Walker's statement being rude.

You smile back at Walker as you set their coffee in front of them on the kitchen island.

"Just part of the job,”

You can’t deny that it feels good to have someone acknowledge and appreciate your work, even jokingly. 

༉ ✧˚₊

After a quick breakfast, the others begin to disperse. Yelena leaves to go take a shower, and Bucky and Walker make their way to the gym. 

You inhale your donut in a few quick bites and retrieve your company-issued tablet from your purse, flipping through various tabs, reviewing the team’s schedule today.

Although each person on the team is sent their own schedule, you keep everyone’s, so you can locate someone if you are looking for them, or if someone doesn’t make it somewhere on time, it’s your duty to check on them.  

A quick glance confirms the mission briefing for tomorrow: the whole team, minus Bob. It seems like Val is utilizing the new support staff—you, to keep him company while the team is deployed. While your role for most of the team is to respond when needed, your duties for Bob involve a slightly more active form of oversight. You have to make sure that he wakes up before noon and eats all his meals. 

For now, you sit in the common area with the curtains drawn open, as you review what would be stacks of paperwork if it weren’t digital. The Watchtower is brighter but not much more lively. Today is everyone’s day off; therefore, some go their separate ways to take care of business. You would usually find the quietness relaxing, but the lack of structure is unnerving. It’s not the kind of stressful, rigid work environment you're used to.

You officially met Ava Starr when she strolled past the common area on her way out. Her movement fluid and silent, as if gliding. Her ethereal, pale blue eyes remind you of a fairy.

With your introduction, she simply mutters, “finally, another girl.” A faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Want a donut?” 

How many times have you said the word ‘donut’ today?

“How thoughtful, don’t mind if I do,” Ava says, giving you a nod of thanks before she disappears.

A moment after Ava leaves, just when the air has settled, a soft padding of bare feet against the tiled floor catches your attention. Bob’s eyes are half closed, still lost somewhere in sleep, as he wobbles slowly across the common area toward the kitchen, oblivious to you. Strands of his brown hair stick out in different directions, appearing golden under the sun. You would alert him, but there’s something so captivating about watching Bob just existing, devoid of nervousness or uncertainty. 

He rubs his eye as he yawns tiredly, reaching a hand up under his shirt to scratch his stomach. The fabric rides up, revealing his abdomen. Your eyes widen, and your heart jolts against your ribcage. His baggy clothes make him look unassuming, even scrawny, but the reality is anything but. Beneath the fabric lay an expanse of taut, defined muscles that spoke quiet strength—a sharp contrast that stole your breath. You swallow thickly.

Fuck.

Still unaware of your presence, Bob's eyes finally open fully, drawn by something in the kitchen. His gaze falls on the last donut remaining on a plate. He absentmindedly grabs the pastry and starts feasting. Mid-chewing, he turns, locking eyes with you, and freezes.

“Oh shit,” he says incoherently, you almost didn’t make out his words. He swallows his bite, his eyes wide from surprise or panic, you’re not sure which, “uh, hey…that wasn’t yours, was it?”

You sputter, a fit of laughter hits you all at once, and you can’t seem to take a full breath. Maybe it was because of how carefree he was the second before, but reverted to his usual self in the snap of a finger, or the fact that there’s sugar on the side of his mouth.

Your laughter evokes a bashful smile from Bob, “So, was that a 'no, it wasn't yours,' or do you just enjoy my cluelessness?” He says, his tongue darts out briefly to lick away the sugar on the side of his mouth. 

“Maybe I do, and the donut is for you,” you say, still breathless from laughing. “You’re lucky that I’m here to make sure no one grabbed two.” 

“Thanks,” Bob lets out a sigh of relief, clearly still a bit embarrassed but grateful. "I…I didn’t know that you were going to be here today.”

“Well, Bob, I have a job here,” you tilt your head with an amused smile as you make your way to the kitchen, to him. “And I’ll be here every day.”

“Right, that makes sense…” His voice trails off. 

A quiet elation blossoms within him in your presence, like a breath of fresh spring air. You, with your gentle smile and disarming frankness, are a stark contrast from those who walk on eggshells around him, wary of rattling the Void. He doesn’t hold that against them, but it felt good being treated like he’s a normal person—no serum, no Sentry, no Void.

A tingly, warm feeling spreads across his chest, a feeling he didn’t even realize he missed. His bashful smile softens further, and his gaze, usually a little distant, settles on you with a warmth that matches the new feeling in his chest. He clears his throat gently. "So," he begins, “what exactly is your job with us…I mean, I know you are our uh, assistant or secretary, but what does that entail?”

“Well, just about anything, I can cook for you guys, get groceries, manage paperwork, clean, be good company,” you list, but pause, “speaking of groceries, you guys are very out. Would you come to the store with me? I’m not sure what everyone likes.”

“Oh, um…” Bob's face falls, his blue eyes clouding with sorrow. "The team doesn't like me going outside," he explains quietly. "Because the Void might come out, you know. And that's... not good."

“So you just…stay here all day?”

“Pretty much.”

You soften your gaze, speaking gently. "Val actually mentioned you're allowed to leave the Tower with a companion. You can't conquer the Void by being cooped up all day, Bob. Besides, we're only going to grab groceries, we'll come straight back if you'd like, and I'll be right there with you." You suggest, being careful not to pressure him into something he's uncomfortable with.

“Are you sure?” Bob fiddles with the sleeve of his sweatshirt—you learn that it’s a nervous habit of his.

“I believe in you. Do you believe in yourself?”

Bob seems to ponder it over in his head and eventually takes a deep breath. “Okay…I will at least try.”

“Alright,” you beamed, unable to stop the big smile spreading across your face. “That’s all I ask.”

Your smile lightened something in Bob, drawing a soft, answering smile to his lips.

Bob nodded, his gaze softening as he held your smile, “yeah…”

You tilt your head, a playful glint in your eye. "So, are you flying us or should I drive?"

button divider by @/bernardsbendystraws

[theegyal]

Hush, [Annie x Smoke ]

Chapter 9 : Family Reunion

Silence felt in the room, hanging between them like a death threat. Their breath sliced through the sanitized air and the steady beep of the heart monitor. Olivia's perfectly curated composure cracked, the fine lines of it splintering across her face.

Elijah pushed himself up, the flimsy hospital gown scrapped against his skin and the dull throb in his skull was nothing compared to the storm brewing in his mind. He looked at the blonde woman standing by his bed, and saw a total stranger.

"Darling," Olivia began, her voice a strained. "You're confused. The seizure—"

"Tss girl I ain't confused," he cut her off. The voice that came out was not Smoke's lazy drawl. It was pure Delta mud, thick with the accent he hadn't used in years.

"I'm tired. Tired of this room. Tired of whoever you are."

Olivia visibly twitched. A flash of disgust crossed her features before she masked it with concern.

"Smoke, listen to your voice. You're not speaking clearly. We need to call the doctor, help you get oriented—"

"Ain't nothin' wrong with how I talk," he said, his eyes narrowing. "You don't even know me" He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet hitting the cold floor.

A bright memory hit him again: Annie, laughing in the kitchen, flour on her nose. The scent of collards and bacon. Her cry of joy when the pregnancy test came back positive.

He stabbed the call button beside the bed with his thumb, his gaze never leaving Olivia's. "I want you to git."

A nurse appeared at the door. "Is everything alright, Mr. Moore?"

"No," he said calmly, his southern accent ringing with authority in the sterile room. "I want this woman gone. She ain't my family. Don't know that girl, ma'am"

12:10 AM

Humiliation burned hotter than any scratch on Olivia's face. She stormed down the hallway, her heels clicking like gunshots against the tile.

She didn't slow until she was in the privacy of a hospital stairwell, the heavy fire door slamming shut behind her. Fumbling in her purse, she pulled out her phone and dialed, her fingers shaking with rage.

"Roberts," a nervous voice answered on the second ring.

"He's awake," she hissed, foregoing any greeting. "And he's a mess. He's talking like some backwoods farmer. He threw me out."

"Ms Manson, I—"

"I don't need your excuses," she snapped. "I need a solution. Whatever you gave him, it's wearing off. I need something stronger. Something to put him back under, to quiet all this... noise in his head. Do you understand me? "

"But his seizures—a higher dose could be dangerous—"

"I don't care about dangerous!" she shrieked into the phone. "I care about fixing what that ghetto woman broke. I want my husband back. Fix it, or I will tell my father your part in this has become a liability."

She ended the call without waiting for a reply, a venomous smile touching her bruised lips.

12:15 AM

Outside, the hospital doors had slid shut, leaving Annie and Stack in, the now raining street. Annie sank into the passenger seat of Stack's car, her body hollowed out, staring blankly as he buckled a fussing Lois into the back.

"They gon' come for us," she whispered, shaking. "After what I did...they'll take Lois."

"Let them try," Stack said. He slammed the driver's side door, the car rocking with the force. "Don't stress about it Annie."

He looked over at her, his usual smirk gone, replaced by a grim resolve. "I ain't lettin' 'em touch you or my niece. Not ever, I'm Stack don't for Goddamn sake ! Ain't Carol told ya what we used to do ?"

She laughed bittersweet at his joking tone.

He hadn't even turned the key in the ignition when a woman in scrubs approached the passenger side's window, tapping gently on the glass.

Annie flinched, expecting security. Stack tensed, ready to peel out.

She hesitantly rolled the window down. It was a doctor, her face tired but kind.

"Ma'am?" She said, looking directly at Annie. "Are you Annie Moore?"

Annie looked at stack before nodding hesitantly. Her heart knotted in her chest.

"Mr. Elijah Moore is awake," the doctor said. "And he's asking for you. Specifically. He won't speak to anyone else until he sees you and his daughter."

12:25 AM

Dr. Roberts hung up the phone, his hand trembling so badly he nearly dropped the receiver. The blood drained from his face. Liability. That was the word that snake used. He knew what that meant when it came from Colonel Manson's daughter.

He was disposable. Just like Clayman was.

He paced his office, sweat beading on his forehead. For months, he'd been caught between two fears: the powerful, political influence of the Colonel, and the immediate threat in Elias Moore's eyes.

I will peel your life apart piece by piece. Wife, kids, your whole damn gene pool.

Stack's threat was no idle boast. It was a deadly promise. Roberts looked at the framed photo on his desk : his smiling wife, his two young sons at a picnic.

His choice was made.

He snatched up the phone again, his fingers fumbling as he dialed the number Stack had burned into his memory.

Stack's phone buzzed just as Annie was getting out of the car. He glanced at the caller ID: UNKNOWN. He almost ignored it, but a gut feeling made him answer, hitting the speakerphone button.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Moore? Mr. Elias Moore?" The voice was panicked, breathless. "It's Dr. Roberts."

Stack smirked, drumming his fingers on the door handle. "Damn. My dear grown-ass best friend. You got some for me ?"

"She called me!" Roberts blurted out, the words tumbling over each other. "Olivia Manson, the daughter of the colonel ! She wants him sedated! A stronger dose. She wants to—Look, she's on her way to my clinic to make sure I do it. I just want peace for my family—"

"Clayman also had one. Tch" Stack responded before hanging up.

12:30 AM

Annie took a deep breath, the cool, rain-washed air doing little to calm the frantic beating of her heart. She unbuckled Lois from the car seat. Her daughter, looked at her sucking her tiny thumb.

Holding her baby tight against her chest felt like holding onto an anchor in a raging storm.

"You sure 'bout this?" Stack asked, calming his nerves from the conversation with Roberts

"He asked for her," Annie answered "He asked for his daughter. I'm taking her to him."

She closed the back door and, with one last look at Stack, turned to follow the doctor back into the hospital, Lois's small head nestled in the crook of her neck.

Stack watched them go until the automatic doors slid shut, swallowing them whole. He was left alone in the car, the rhythmic thump of the windshield wipers counting off seconds like a metronome of dread. He scanned the hospital entrance, waiting, watching.

A bitter helplessness gnawed at him. He could hotwire a car in ninety seconds, but here, he was pinned. Trapped. Manson had him by the throat with a single word: deserter.

If he acted out, that bastard would burn them both. The official story would leak, and Elijah wouldn't just be a man with amnesia : he would be a traitor to his country. They'd be buried so deep in a federal prison, they'd never see the sun again.

Frustration boiled in his throat. He slammed his palm against the steering wheel. He couldn't do this alone. He needed backup. He needed someone who wasn't afraid to get their hands dirty, someone who played by their own rules.

He needed Carol.

He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over her number, he didn't save a name, never need it. A wave of shame washed over him. He had no right to call this number. No right to even breathe her name. The last time he'd asked her for help, she'd paid for it with four years of her life behind bars while he ran.

Fuck— He never once visited her.

Stack swallowed the acid taste in his throat and pressed dial.

The line clicked open on the third ring.

"Mmh... you sure got a whole lotta nerve," was all she said. Her voice wasn't loud, but it was filled with so much ice it burned.

"Carol," he started, his own voice sounding hollow.

"Nah. Don't," she cut him off. "Don't say my name like it still belong in yo mouth. I see this number, I know it's you. You got two seconds 'fore I block this number for the rest of my natural-born life. One... two—"

"It's about Annie,"he blurted out, the words rushing from him. "She's in trouble. Can lost Lois and all, if we ain't act quick"

There was a dead, loaded silence on the other end. He could hear her breathing, a slow, controlled inhale. He knew she was weighing her love for Annie against her hatred for him.

"The last time you told me to help you?" she said, her voice dangerously quiet, "I woke up in jail, pendejo. Tch... talk Elias. And you better pray to whatever sad-ass God still answer your calls that you ain't lyin'."

Stack explained everything, the words tumbling out of him : Manson, the amnesia, the fake life with Olivia, the drugs, the foreclosure. He told her everything, holding nothing back.

When he finished, he heard a sound, something crashing on floor. Yes, Carol Montenegro was pissed. Annie was her everything. Her sister, her best friend. However, something didn't sit right : Stack. That chico had a some balls to call her.

"So, the big daddy Elias Moore finally done got his dumb ass caught in a mud-shit he can't shoot his way out of," she mused, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "And now you come callin' on the dirty Ol' Delta whore you left to rot. That about right?"

"Carol, I—"

"Save it," she snapped. "I ain't doin' a damn thing for you. I wouldn't piss on you if you was on fire, Moore. You hear me? Not even a drop. But Annie..."

Her voice softened, just for a second, the loyalty and love for her friend cutting through everything else. "They not touchin' her baby. Not her man, neither."

"So you'll help?" he asked, barely daring to breathe.

"I'll help Nia," Carol corrected him fiercely. "This ain't for you. You and me ? We square chico, you hear me? We're nothin'. I'm getting back to Chicago tonight. You tell my girl I'm comin'. And this little snow bunny bitch? Don't you worry about her. I'll handle it. I learned a thing or two during these four years in prison."

Before he could respond, she hung up.

12:35 AM

Annie followed the doctor down the quiet hall, Lois's soft breaths warming her neck. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic mix of hope and fear.

When the doctor pushed open the door to Elijah's room and stepped aside, Annie paused on the threshold, her breath catching in her throat.

He was sitting up on the edge of the bed. His eyes, the warm, deep brown eyes she knew better than her own, were clear. And they were fixed on her.

He didn't speak. He couldn't. His gaze dropped from her face to the small child in her arms. Lois,m stared back at him, giggling, laughing.

Annie slowly walked into the room, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

"Elijah," she whispered. She was on the verge of crying, her voice breaking.

"Annie," he breathed her name as an apology, a prayer, a homecoming. He patted the empty space on the bed beside him.

She sat down, carefully shifting Lois onto her lap so she was facing her father.

For a long moment, they just looked at each other, a broken family trying to find the shape of itself again.

Elijah lifted his hand, his movements hesitant. He gently caressed Lois's soft, curly hair. His thumb stroked her chubby cheek. "She... she got my mama's nose," he murmured, his voice infused with melancholy. Tears flowed down his cheeks.

Lois was bubbly. She didn't cry. She gurgled, a happy, inquisitive sound, and reached out with a tiny hand, her small fingers wrapping around his thumb. She held on tight.

Elijah let out a shaky breath, a sound that was half sob, half laugh. He looked from his daughter's perfect face to his wife's. "I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, his eyes pleading with hers. "I don't remember everything yet. It's... it's all foggy. But I remember you. I remember lovin' you so much it hurt."

Annie couldn't hold back her own tears any longer. She sobbed freely, she couldn't care less if her face was ugly.

"Mmh—aah" she wailed like an infant, catching Lois mischievous eyes.

All the silent tears of relief and grief and overwhelming love, damping her face, reddened her eyes.

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his, closing her eyes. Lois was a warm, living bridge between them.

"You're here," Annie exhaled painfully near his mouth . "You're just... you're here."

"I'm here," he promised, his other hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb wiping away her tears. "And I ain't goin' nowhere ever again."

"Welcome home, papa" She smiled, heart full of joy, butterflies flying in her stomach.

As if she could understand something, Lois gurgled, her thumb wet in her mouth :

"Baba ! Bwaba"

The three of them laughed. Allowing themselves to taste the happiness they had been deprived of, for ages.

Tag list :

@thelifeoflagab @juniooox @tadjoa @shamansha @brownskincheyenne @freelandgoddess @Ib-xci @blaqgirlmagicyallcantstandit @iammyownlover @stormynovashambler @summrsovrinterlude @prettygirl2800 @puffmamaa @harleycativy @jasssdee1 @itstayleigh @queenofklonnie22 @bigjh @tadjoa @Isc72 @forzaferrariii , @blxckberrie @avidreader73 @partylikemajima @lolalikesgames @ultralspblr @post-woke @jasssdee1 @lizbehave @rkiiives @underated345-blog @thefutureemmywinner @chknnwffls @maddyf22

[zae-heeyyy]

Recalcitrance

Summary: You and Ms. Grimshaw just can't get along. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 1,763 Tags: fluff, kissing, high honor Arthur Warnings: camp violence, angry Arthur, suggestive themes

a/n: I have mixed feelings about Grimshaw. I think she's a very enigmatic character. Still, based on interactions I've seen with her, I feel this isn't too far off. These always end up super long for some reason. Idk how that keeps happening. Anyway, I hope you enjoy; thanks for reading!

recalcitrance: resistance to authority or guidance, often characterized by defiance or disobedience. It implies a refusal to comply with rules or expectations, despite attempts to persuade or control.

You and Abigail Roberts went way, way back. Working girls stuck to a code; part of that code was looking out for each other and ensuring you returned after one of your "shifts." Abigail ran away for a while, leaving you to assume she'd met a rich man and settled down.

When you met her again, she introduced you to Dutch Van Der Linde and company; you fell in with them shortly after. Since then, you constantly scrubbed blood from clothes, slept on the ground, and ate whatever game Pearson could find for the stew. Many girls you knew would never trade that life for this one, but you had a family to return to, even if they weren't the most conventional. And amidst it all, you'd found something you didn't think possible for you. 

You were drawn to Arthur Morgan instantly. The little things spoke volumes for you—how he checked on you in passing, the moments spent playing dominos together, and his overall politeness towards you. The bar was in hell, but he treated you so differently than any man ever had. Arthur's dumb cowboy act didn't fool you for a second, and you were captivated by him.

After one too many inadvertent shoulder grazes and incidental hand touches, the chemistry between you had become undeniable. Following a game of dominos he let you win, the stocky man asked you to take a walk with him. You weren't too far away from camp before you found yourself pressed against a tree by him in a heated kiss. So many thoughts swirled around your head. You were in the middle of nowhere; it was pitch black, and you were being hunted by the law, yet there against that tree was the safest you'd felt in a long time. 

Then, on another fateful night, you were alone with him at the campfire while everybody else had settled down. A sly smirk crossed his face, and he scooted closer to you, grabbing and kissing your hand. You giggled, maintaining eye contact as he kissed up your arm, gradually, a low groan escaping him. One thing led to another, and he guided you into his tent. You let him have you, and you, him. 

It was then, when you were on the brink of your climax, half-lidded eyes staring upward into his, that you finally understood what people meant by lovemaking. When it was all over, you got up to leave out of habit, but he drew you back into his arms and asked you to stay.

Since then, you've been his girl, and he made sure everybody knew, always kissing you before he left for a job, settling you into his lap at the poker table, or sneaking you away from your chores to spend time with him. You saw each other for what you were, not the labels that had been applied to you. And you loved him so much.

For the first time in a long time, your life was good. Well, mostly, except you hadn't quite mastered the life of navigating Ms. Grimshaw. Over the almost year you'd known her, she was rarely nice to you. She seemed more tame when Arthur was around, but he wasn't today.

By noon, you had gotten sick of hearing her voice, and she seemed more ornery than usual. The nagging was constant: do this, don't do that, do this faster, do this slower. You wished she'd shut the hell up and leave you alone. Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, you saw her speed-walking towards you.

You were sitting, about to light a cigarette, when she approached, red-faced, huffing, and talking fast, "There you are," she started, putting a finger in your face. "Sitting around like always. I have had it with you!" You stood quickly out of instinct and opened your mouth to speak, but she cut you off. "You're useless around here, so why don't you go into town and start selling yourself again. At least then you'd finally be carrying your weight!" 

Her words stung like branding, making your heart race and your eyes sting. The few people left at camp had gone quiet. Mary-Beth looked on nervously while Karen was glaring at the older woman. Your heart pounded in your ears, and you spoke faster than your brain could process.

"All you're good for is being an ugly, hateful bitch." As soon as the words left your mouth, she swung on you. It was a backhanded slap that stung and broke the barrier that was holding back your tears. You recoiled, holding your stinging face.

"Know your place, girl, before you end up somewhere worse than on your back. Now get!" She pointed towards the edge of camp.

"Screw you," you said, quickly wiping away a falling tear, "I'd rather fuck every man in town before I keep letting myself be treated like this." You stepped up to her, " Want me to leave? Well, I'm goin."

And you did. You collected what little belongings you had into a bag and charged out of camp, eyes forward and your head held high. Tilly and Mary-Beth tried to stop you, but you marched down the dirt path until they couldn't see you anymore.

"Look what you gone and did you old hag," Karen spat, "Oh, just wait til Mr. Morgan gets back. Bet you won't be so high and mighty then." 

Arthur didn't ride in until sunset; he searched for you before even getting off his horse. His face fell confused by your absence, and just as he was about to inquire, Mary-Beth and Tilly approached. He knew instantly that something was wrong.

"What, what is it?" His eyes searched theirs. They looked at each other, silently debating who'd break the news to him. It was Tilly who stepped forward, putting a calming hand on Arthur's arm. She talked low and cautious, "Arthur, she—her and Ms. Grimshaw—they—" She was cut off by Karen and Ms. Grimshaw beelining towards them.

Karen's voice boomed, speech slurred. "Go ahead, tell 'em." She waved her beer-clutching hand between Arthur and Ms. Grimshaw, defiantly meeting Susan's gaze before tearing her eyes away to meet Arthur's. "That wench Grimshaw smacked her across the face and ran her out!"

Clenching his fist involuntarily, he leaned into Karen, talking low and steady. "The hell are you talking 'bout?" His chest was rising and falling quickly now.

Ms. Grimshaw stood resolute and waved him off. "This doesn't concern you, Mr. Morgan. This is my camp, and these are my girls and my rules," she finished, arms crossed, staring at Arthur.

Stepping close, he imposed his broad figure on Ms. Grimshaw, flashing a smile that was anything but inviting. He took on a tone he rarely used with the women.

"Oh, Susan, that's where me and you disagree. This may very well be your camp, and you can make up all the rules you want, but she's my girl." His face had straightened into a scowl by the time he finished.

"Well, I'll—" she began incredulously, hands still on her hips, but Arthur threw up a halting finger.

"Look, Ms. Grimshaw, I respect how you run this camp, but that girl, she's off limits. Now, I'm gonna find her and bring her back, and you can raise all the hell you want, but if you lay a finger on her again—" 

"Arthur..." Tilly cut in warningly. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, ending his conversation with Susan. "Where'd she go?" he asked no one and everyone at the same time, speed walking to his horse.

"She took off down the road," Mary-Beth called out, but his horse was already kicking up dirt. Riding as fast as he could, he reached the nearest town at record speed. He hitched the horse outside the train station, forcing the doors open with his shoulder. The place went quiet, everybody focusing on the sudden disturbance. Arthur ignored the looks he was getting, scanning faces for yours. Spotting you took no time, and you stood as soon as you recognized him. He rushed to you, taking your hands in his; concern riddled his face— a rare sight. Guilt washed over you as you looked up into his eyes; you opened your mouth to speak, but he started before you.

"You alright?" he asked, looking you up and down. Dirt had stained the hem of your skirt, and your eyes were tired; his frown grew as he looked you over. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your head to his chest and nodding.

"Wasn't gonna go, just needed to get away for a while," you murmured into his chest. Rubbing your back soothingly, he exhaled with soft, relieved laughter. One arm still around you, he gently tilted your head to meet his gaze with his free one.

"Don't you go walking out on us. Least without tellin' me first."

You agreed with a quick bob of your head, and he pulled your chin in towards his, kissing you on the mouth. He withdrew and gestured to the bench you'd risen from earlier; you both sat. Arthur wrapped a big arm around you, and you buried your face into his shoulder.

"That woman hates me," you grumbled with a pout. Arthur squeezed you closer, and a faint grin formed on his lips.

"Nah, she never liked any girl I brought around. Give her more time." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "It's all outta love, I think," he concluded. You huffed at that, disbelieving.

"She got a funny way of showing it."

"Sure," he chuckled again. He sat for another minute before gently nudging you off his shoulder. Grabbing your bag and standing, he asked, "So you gonna come back with me?"

You tried to sulk but couldn't when he was standing there waiting patiently with his hand out. You finally relented. 

"Fine, but I ain't just gonna take it next time," you declared, taking his hand. A big smile stretched across his face. 

"You ain't gotta do nothing you don't wanna. If any of those fools have a problem with it, send 'em to me." You made your way out of the train station, hand in hand. You paused, gazing at him with a quirked eyebrow.

"I can handle myself just fine, Arthur Morgan." Another chuckle built up in him as he threw your bag on the horse. He turned to kiss the top of your head before grabbing you by the waist and lifting you up on the horse.

"I know, darlin'."

[mentally-ill-simp]

Trusting the RDR2 women to hold your drink

Tw:mentions of alcohol and once again Micah Bell

Karen Jones: You walked up to her rolling your eyes at something you had just heard one of the guys say "my god they are idiots sometimes" you groaned and she laughed "got that right" she took a sip of her own drink sitting at a table a little away from the rest of everyone "could you hold my drink for me really quick?" You asked her with a smile and she nodded taking the drink from you, she sat at the table holding the drink as you left, she made faces and glared at anyone who walked by eyeing the drink keeping it safe until you got back

Mary Beth Gaskill: The girl was sitting on the ground writing away as usual when you approached her "hey Mary whatcha writing" you smiled and she shut the book quick almost embarrassed to show you or anyone what it was "oh nothing" she said her face flushed red, you gave her a small smile "could you do me the biggest favor?" You asked changing the subject, and she nodded "yes of course, what is it?" The girl asked, curious."Could you hold my drink for me?" You asked, holding out your drink to give her, and she nodded, giving a small sweet smile."Of course, " she said. The whole time she held your drink people would walk by and she would give them an explanation on why she was just holding a drink "oh it's (y/n)'s just holding it" and cute stuff like that

Tilly Jackson: You ask Tilly to hold your drink and she happily agrees just working on her sewing much like Hosea she would just put a hand over top of the drink to make sure no one touched it while she worked until you got back

Sadie Adler: You were scared of the woman, but you'd trust here regardless. "Hey Sadie..." you approach her as she cleans her gun she looks up at you "hey (y/n)" she says her usual raspy voice sounding pissed but that was normal "would you mind holding my drink?" You asked her shyly her face softens nodding "yeah of course i can" she spoke nicely and grabs the drink from you holding it between her legs while cleaning the gun, everyone was to scared to approach her about the drink anyway so it was safe

Susan Grimshaw: You walk up to the woman, she was basically the mother of this group she was bitchy sure but she was trustworthy "good evening Ms. Grimshaw" you smiled at the woman "evening (y/n)" Susan stood there with her arms crossed watching the fire in a good mood "would you mind holding my drink for me?" You ask her softly and the woman takes her eyes off of the fire "of course I can darling" the woman smiled as she took your drink. She held the drink close to her protecting it as if it was her own "I can see you in the corner of my eye Mr. Bell you better walk off" she said not even making eye contact with Micah

Abigail Roberts/Marston: "Hey Abigail" you smile at her she had just finished putting Jack to bed and looked exhausted herself "hey" she smiled softly at you "I hate to ask this but would you mind holding my drink for me really quick while I go to the bathroom... I'll owe you one" you smile at her and she thinks about it for a moment "yeah sure I'll watch this for you but you get me one once you come back" she smiles softly and you nod running off, the woman sits there the whole time watching as the people walk by even keeping your drink safe from John when he tries to steal it to drink

Molly O'shea: You look around the camp, finding Molly sitting there by a tree reading. You walk over to her. "Ms. O'shea" you nod and she smiles softly "y'know you can call me Molly" she hated how formal everyone was towards her "alright Molly would you mind holding my drink for me?" You look at her, lips pressed together she nods "yes of course" she takes the drink while you run off and do what you need to, she glares at anyone and everyone who walked by

[mulligans-tavern]

Updated Bad Kids NemesisAlert Files

Figueroth Faeth

Nemeses: Cuspin Clark, Porter Cliffbreaker, Lola Embers, Ruben Hopclap, Alston Hughes

Chosen Nemesis: Porter Cliffbreaker

Notes: Mr. Clark has declared Wanda Childa as his nemesis, known to be an alias of Ms. Faeth. Alston Hughes is mandated by KVX policy to change his nemesis should Ms. Faeth become a client of the bank.

Gorgug Thistlespring

Nemeses: Arthur Aguefort, Sprak LeFevre

Chosen Nemesis: Mary Ann Skuttle

Notes: Mr. Aguefort has declared his intent to remain Mr. Thistlespring's nemesis until such time as Mr. Thistlespring acquires one of his own. Mr. LeFevre recently named Mr. Thistlespring as a nemesis on ground of "theft of prized possession," and Mr. Aguefort cannot be reached at this time to confirm his wishes. Ms. Skuttle has declined to name an official nemesis.

Adaine Abernant

Nemeses: Aelwyn Abernant, Baron from the Baronies

Chosen Nemesis: Oisin Hakinvar

Notes: Ms. Abernant recently changed her nemesis to Mr. Hakinvar from Arianwen Abernant. Mr. Hakinvar recently changed his nemesis from Ms. Abernant to Riz Gukgak.

Fabian Aramais Seacaster

Nemeses: Chungledown Bimothy, Quincey

Chosen Nemesis: Gilear Faeth

Notes: Gertie Bladeshield recently rescinded her nemesis vow against Mr. Seacaster. We do not know who Quincey is, only that his vow of enmity against Mr. Seacaster is powerfully violent. Mr. Seacaster has asked if he can have two nemeses, and settled on Mr. Faeth when informed he could not.

Kristen Chilis Applebees

Nemeses: Robert Dawn

Chosen Nemesis: Kipperlilly Copperkettle

Notes: Ms. Applebees declared "Catlitter Cunthead" as her nemesis, in Ms. Abernant's handwriting.

Riz Gukgak

Nemeses: Kipperlilly Copperkettle, Oisin Hakinvar, Telemaine Lominelda

Chosen Nemesis: Baron from the Baronies

Notes: Mr. Hakinvar recently changed his nemesis to Mr. Gukgak, on grounds of "killed loved one and/or ancestor."

This was a lot of fun. Did I miss anyone? Get in the comments.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Bob and the Superhero Love Story Arc

Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Reynolds/sentry x (f)reader

Tags: fluff, feelings, kissing, comfort, learning disabilities, childhood friends, found family (thunderbolts), some nice times because Bob deserves it

You were just an intern at The Washington Post, clutching your phone as you tried to keep up, typing every word Valentina said with great effort. Your brows knit in concentration. This could be your big story. You didn't want to mess it up.

You looked up off your screen to take a brief look at the new Avengers.

Then your eyes caught on him.Your hand flew to your mouth.

He’d changed.

He used to hunch over like he was trying to disappear into a desk. Now he stood tall—broad-shouldered, navy sweater tight across his chest. His curly brown hair was longer and messier, but it still fell into his blue eyes when he looked down.

Your old classmate, Bob. Your first crush... was an Avenger. A superhero!

You were ten years old.

You were both in the same special needs class in elementary school.

Even if your needs were different.

It was your first day at a new school after you and your older sister had just moved to a new town. It was a small suburban town, with a small school at its center and small classrooms. Your sister had registered you at the main office, quietly informing the principal that you had a learning disability. He nodded and got up to exchange some hushed wispers with the front desk lady. A moment later, the woman offered a soft smile before motioning for you to follow. "Come with me, hun."

Down the hallway, she led you into a quiet classroom where about ten students your age sat. The teacher paused mid-lesson as the door opened, and everyone turned to look at you next to the front desk lady.

"Miss Brown, please welcome your newest student," the secretary said.

The teacher, an older woman with kind eyes and a denim vest, nodded. "Good morning, why don't you come up here and introduce yourself."

You walked up to the front of the class, slightly fidgeting with the hem of your dress and told everyone your name.

Ms. Brown smiled. "It's very nice to meet you, y/n. We don't get new students often around here."

Gesturing to a boy at the far end of the room, she said. "You can have a seat next to Robert."

He sat alone, half-curled into his hoodie, shaggy brown hair hanging over blue eyes. The desk beside him was empty. You crossed the room with your backpack slung awkwardly over your shoulders, pulled the chair back, and sat down. Your hands were slow as you pulled out your notebook and pencils.

"Hi," he wispered, looking up for only a second.

You smiled. "Hi. I’m Y/N."

He nodded. "I know. You told us a minute ago."

"Right," you chuckled, feeling your cheeks heat. You sometimes blabbed when you were nervous. "I like your name, Robert."

"Bob’s okay," he murmured, opening his notebook and scribbling the date in the corner.

At lunch, a few of your classmates came over, smiling and curious.

Feeling like you somehow said the wrong thing, you turned to your desk and did the same, copying down the teacher’s notes.

Your grip tightened on your pencil as the words blurred. Like they always did.

"Hey, I’m Alex," a boy said.

"I’m Kate. I like your dress," added a girl sitting beside him.

A few more names followed. A boy named Timothy and a girl named Gillian.

"So, what do you have?" Timothy asked plainly.

You blinked. "What do you mean?"

He motioned vaguely around the room. "Everyone's got something in this class. I have ADD. Alex is on the spectrum... what about you?"

"Oh," you understood now, swallowing. "I’m dyslexic," you said quietly, pressing your lips together the way you always did when you told someone about your disability.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Bob glance up from his desk, eyes flicking to your notebook before returning to his.

"What’s that?" Kate asked.

"I... I have difficulty reading," you explained.

They gave you a variety of looks. Some curious, others sympathetic.

"I’ve never heard of that," Gillian said. "Sounds awful."

"Gillian," Bob said, without looking up.

Gillian grimaced, giving you an apologetic look.

"It's okay," You smiled, grateful even for that brief defense. "It’s not too bad," you said, even if you didn’t always believe it.

The truth was that the school didn’t have the resources to distinguish between different types of needs. So, they grouped everyone together. And in time, you all became something like friends.

But Bob was still... distant. When you all tried to include him in group games or projects, he’d just shake his head, shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on his desk.

Until one day.

Your sister was late to pick you up, and most of the others had already gone home. You sat on the curb, arms wrapped around your backpack, and then noticed Bob lingering nearby.

You plopped down next to him, your leggings brushing against his scraped-up knees poking through wrinkled cargo shorts.

"Your parents not picking you up?" you asked.

He flinched slightly, then glanced over. His hair was a mess and falling into his eyes. You had the sudden urge to brush it away.

"Sometimes they’re late. Or they forget," he said with a sad little smile, eyes fixed on his shoes. "It’s alright."

You frowned. He smiled, but he clearly wasnt happy. You looked around, trying to come up with something to change his mood.

You froze when your gaze landed on the school playground. "Wanna go on the swings?"

He looked at you, uncertain.

You offered your hand. "Come on. It’ll be fun."

He hesitated. Then, slowly, his hand met yours. It trembled slightly in your grip.

It was that day you first felt it. A little flutter in your chest came with holding his hand. A crush.

From then on, you watched him more closely. How he always sat in the back. How he flinched at loud noises. How his eyes lit up when a teacher asked a question about science, or outer space, or machines.

It was during a group project—the group being your entire class— that you realized how sharp he was.

You and your classmates were brainstorming ideas for a model bridge, and Bob sat at his desk and mumbled something about tensile strength and suspension systems.

Kate blinked. "How’d you know that?"

He shrugged. "It was in one of Ms. Brown’s books."

"Huh. That sounds smart. Let me write it down for the presentation," Alex said, scribbling it down. "Thanks, Bobby."

Bob smiled a small smile. "Sure thing."

And that smile stuck with you longer than it should have.

You enjoyed math's and sciences enough, but your favorite subjects were history and literature. The ones that ironically required a LOT of reading and writing. After your sister showed you a movie about a pair of journalists who uncover a major political conspiracy, you had your goals set on becoming a journalist. And for that, you'd have to ace the humanities.

One afternoon, you were hunched over your history book, researching for an assignment, frustrated nearly to tears. The letters wouldn’t sit still.

"Can I?" Someone asked softly. You looked up and saw Bob, taking a seat next to you, motioning toward the book.

You nodded, swallowing hard and handing it to him. Afraid that if you'd open your mouth, you'd might let out a sob.

He read aloud, voice low and steady. Something about the way he spoke made it all easier. You could’ve listened to him for hours.

You never told him how grateful you were. How safe you felt in that moment.

By the time you both turned sixteen, Bob had started to withdraw even more. You still waved in the halls. Sometimes he waved back, sometimes he didn’t. He was absent more often than not. But somehow, his name always showed up on the academic distinction list that was plastered on the wall at the end of each term.

The crush still lingered, quiet and patient.

He didn’t come to graduation.

And you wouldn’t see him again for a long, long time.

You were twenty-two now.

The surprise press conference was in full swing. Cameras flashed as Valentina stood at the podium, parading the new Avengers. The memory of the recent disaster still lingered in the air.

You’d been on the opposite end of New York during the Void attack, but the moment authorities announced it was safe to return, you were assigned to cover the story. So you rushed to the scene with your press badge and your crew.

You were just an intern at The Post, clutching your phone as you tried to keep up, typing every word Valentina said with great effort. Your brows knit in concentration. This could be your big story. You didn't want to mess it up.

You looked up off your screen to take a brief look at the new Avengers.

Then your eyes caught on him.

One of the team members was clapping awkwardly with the crowd, standing a little behind the others like he didn’t quite belong.

Your hand flew to your mouth.

Oh my God.

"What is it?" Your co-worker, Anthony, asked while snapping pictures with his professional camera.

"Uhm, nothing. I'm just excited about the story." You mumbled, your eyes glued to Bob.

He’d changed.

He used to hunch over like he was trying to disappear into a desk. Now he stood tall—broad-shouldered, navy sweater tight across his chest. His curly brown hair was longer and messier, but it still fell into his blue eyes when he looked down.

But his smile—shy, unsure—was exactly like you remembered.

Your old classmate, Bob. Your first crush... was an Avenger. A superhero!

After the conference, you circled the venue until you found him, chatting with the Avengers. You made your way over.

Only to be stopped by a stone-faced agent.

"Stand back," he said flatly.

"Right. Sorry." You lifted your badge. "I’m with The Washington Post."

He gave you a once-over. "Interns don’t get access to the Avengers."

The comment was meant as a dig, but it didn't work. By now, you were used to being overlooked and underestimated. And you knew you could deal with it with sass when the time was right. You raised a brow and offered a charming smile. "You’re gonna regret that when I’m head writer someday."

He snorted. "Come back when that happens."

"Come on," you said, trying not to sound desperate. "I just want one statement from the team."

"No—"

"I give statement to nice young lady," came a booming voice behind him.

You turned to see the Red Guardian looming like a wall of muscle, casting a long shadow over the both of you.

"We have orders—" the agent began.

"Davai, Shoo, little man. I get brand deal now," Alexei said, swatting him away like a fly.

You blinked, feeling starstruck. "You're the Red Guardian. From the Soviet Union."

"I am him, yes." He grinned a bearded, gold-toothed grin. "Washington Post, you said, da? I enjoy watching senators play... what you call... football. Ridiculous game. The name makes no sense. It's called football, but they hold it in their hands—ne vazhno. it's very violent. Entertaining."

You read a lot about him in your history of the Cold War 101, a required course in your journalism program. Alexei was truly a fascinating figure, a warrior. A spy. A soldier. A human experiemnt. There was so much about him still unknown to the public, and let's face it, probably to himself too.

And he stood in front of you in the flesh.

"Uhhh..." Before you could say more, a quiet voice spoke up.

"Y/n?"

Bob had stepped beside Alexei, eyes wide with recognition. Your heart skipped. His voice was deeper now, steadier.

You smiled, a little breathless. "You remember me?"

He nodded, warm and surprised. "Of course I remember you." His gaze roamed down your body, and a pink coloring appeared on his cheek. He'd changed since you were kids, and so had you.

Recovering, he turned to the others, gesturing to you. "Guys… this is a friend from back home."

They all gave you the once-over, some more skeptical than others. You offered a sheepish smile and wave.

Bob glanced at your badge. His brows lifted. "You’re with The Post? That’s amazing!"

There was genuine pride in his voice.

You smiled back, feeling something catch in your throat. "Well… interning for now. But yeah. It’s a real dream come true." You hesitated, then added, "And you’re an Avenger!"

According to Valentina, he was one of the strongest beings alive, too.

He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You probably don’t remember me that well. I mostly—"

"I remember you, Bob."

He blinked. Swallowed. Opened his mouth—and couldn’t find the words.

The agent came back, signaling to you to wrap things up.

You cleared your throat and lifted your recorder. "Sentry, can I get a statement on this exciting new team-up?"

Bob opened his mouth, then closed it without saying anything. He did this a couple of times.

Beside him, John Walker elbowed him. "Say something before you embarrass yourself."

Bob coughed. "C-can I see you again?"

Walker winced, shaking his head. Alexei let out a deep chuckle, rubbing his belly as he looked between you and Bob.

You froze, lowering the recorder. Then let out a small, surprised laugh.

"I mean, we don’t have to—" Bob backtracked.

"How’s next Monday?" You cut in.

His eyes lit up. "I’d… I’d like that."

You tore a page from your notebook and scribbled your number. When you handed it to him, he looked at it like it was something rare.

"I do not like her," Yelena muttered, pacing the lounge.

Ava rolled her eyes from where she was sprawled on the couch. "What now?"

"Too pretty."

"I know," Bob mumbled sat in a chair, eyes on the floor. "Why would someone like her want to be with someone like me?"

Walker chuckled, chips halfway to his mouth from the bowl he held in his hand. "Nice going, Yelena."

"What?! No—," Yelena exclaimed, then turned to Bob. "I just don’t want you to get hurt, okay?"

"You can’t protect Bobby from everything, docha," Alexei said with a shrug, stretching out over the other leather sofa. "Even heartbreak is part of every mans journey."

Bob frowned. "Heartbreak...?"

"Oh my God," Bucky groaned, rubbing his temples. "Can you all shut up? They haven’t even gone on one date yet."

He clapped a hand on Bob’s shoulder. "Relax, son. It’ll be okay. Not that im, uh... the poster child for romance, but she doesn't seem like the kind to break your heart."

"Plus, you're an Avenger now." Walker piped up. "Show it off... act like it. If you get what I'm saying."

That gave him reassurance. And enough courage to text you that evening and invite you over.

New tech filled the lab at Stark Tower. Bob was tucked into the far corner, flipping through the worn, half-burned files from Valentina’s vault.

Equations lined the whiteboard in his handwriting. On the table beside him lay pages from Tony Stark’s notebooks, dog-eared and annotated with scribbled notes. Every so often, he muttered to himself, tapping a finger on a page.

"Hydrogen density ratios don’t match…" he murmured, then sighed. "Unless the pressure chamber’s offset by six degrees…"

You smiled at the door. Sentry—the mighty Avenger—looked like a very tired, very nerdy engineering student.

You cleared your throat.

He looked up, startled, then grinned sheepishly. "Oh. Hey. Sorry, I was just… working on something for the team."

"It’s okay. Your friend Walker let me in." You stepped closer, glancing over the papers. "Anything interesting?"

"Sam’s flight suit overheats at high altitudes. I thought Stark’s insulation algorithm might be adaptable."

You nodded slowly. "Wow. That sounded really smart. I wish I understood half of it." You chuckled.

"I can explain it to you," he offered, shrugging. "If… that’s something you want to hear."

"Yeah. Definitely." You bit your lip. "Maybe over pizza, though?" You raised your brow in emphasis.

His eyes lit up as he remembered your date. He shoved away at the papers.

"I didn't forget." He rushed out. "I just got carried—"

You let out a soft chuckle. "Its fine, Bob. You don't have to apologize."

His shoulders dropped with a sigh of relief.

You licked tomato sauce off your fingers. "So, you’re solving cooling issues while the Red Guardian is learning how to post on Instagram?"

"He is?" Bob asked before taking a bite of his peperoni and mushroom slice.

You held out your phone. "He’s live right now. Doing a Q&A."

Bob raised a brow. "Wow. Twenty thousand viewers?"

"They mostly ask him about his workout regimen."

He snorted.

The two of you walked side by side down a quiet Midtown street, the city’s hum distant behind you. Hands jammed into his jeans pockets, he nudged a pebble with the toe of his sneaker now and then. No godly aura. Just… a guy.

You laughed softly as you reached your building. "You’re still the same, you know."

Bob looked down. "I don’t feel the same."

You watched him—how his jaw flexed when he was deep in thought, how his brow furrowed like it always had. "You are. Just taller."

At the door, you turned your key. "Thanks for walking me home."

"Anytime." He lingered, hands still in his pockets. "Can I see you again?"

"I’m heading to D.C. next week for a press conference," you said, before joking. "Wanna fly down to meet me, Sentry?"

He smiled. "I might stop by if I’m in the area." Then he leaned in and kissed your cheek before wishing you a good night.

A knock came from your hotel window.

Sunset spilled across the National Mall in orange, blue, and soft pink. Stepping away from your papers and notes you've collected from the day, you walked over, heart skipping as you spotted him hovering over the balcony, wind in his hair, a shy grin on his face.

You threw open the window. "Oh my god!"

"How was work?" he asked.

Shaking your head, you laughed. "This isn’t real."

"I want to show you something." He held out his hand.

"…Are you serious?"

"Trust me."

You hesitated, then pulled on a jacket and boots before coming back and placing your hand in his.

"If you drop me—"

"I won’t."

With a gust of air, you lifted into the sky, wrapped in his hold. The city dropped away beneath you, a sea of lights and honking horns. Your stomach tensed as your hands gripped his shoulders.

"Don’t let go!"

He laughed above you, the sound vibrating agains your ear, and tightened his hold.

"I won’t, I promise." he said quietly.

He brought you to a rooftop that overlooked the Potomac, the city was wide and glittering in the distance. Wind woodshed around as Bob touched down, setting you down gently.

You whispered. "This is… amazing."

By a rusted AC unit, a picnic blanket was laid out with a paper bag and two bottles of Coke.

"Did you do this?" you asked, sitting beside him, knees brushing.

"Do you like it?"

You peeked into the bag and gasped. "Burgers? This is the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to anyone!"

You took a bite of your burger and moaned. “God, this is good. All i had to eat today was a croissant for breakfast." You turned to him. "You really are a superhero."

He chuckled.

"Im not kidding." You insisted.

"What can I say? I’m setting the bar high."

His smile faltered as he turned and looked out at the horizon. "Still doesn’t feel real."

You wiped around your mouth, lowering the burger in your hand. "Must’ve been a massive adjustment, huh?"

"Sometimes, when everyone’s asleep, I just sit there… waiting to wake up. Like this is a dream."

You blinked, unsure what to say.

"You remember everything now?" You asked.

He nodded. "Bits. Enough. Mostly the bad parts."

You placed a hand on his. "Wanna to talk about it?"

"I should." He hesitated. "My therapist says it’s healthy. But maybe not right now."

You nodded. "Whenever youre ready."

He glanced at you. "I was wondering… when we were kids, how did you handle your dyslexia?"

You leaned back on your palms. "It was hard. People often thought I was lazy. Until I finally went to a school that recognized what having a learning disability means."

His jaw tensed. "Thats not fair. Im sorry."

"It's not so bad." You shrugged with an easy-going smile. "I got creative. Audiobooks helped a lot. Or people reading to me. Like you used to."

He looked at you, something tender in his eyes.

You asked gently, "Where did you disappear to after high school?"

His gaze drifted. "Nowhere good. I tried to… change. To fix myself. But Sentry—he wasnt a good solution. I couldn’t stop the—"

He stopped talking when he realized he was about to say "void" and possibly reveal his dangerous alter ego to you. He wasn't sure how you would react.

"I couldn’t stop the bad times. Until the guys helped me claw my way out."

"Its good you have them," you said softly. "And that you’re here."

He finally looked at you. His eyes were glassy, filled with something wounded and ancient.

"Yeah," he said. "I guess it is."

The two of you sat like that. Talking and watching the city light up the night.

After he flew you gently back to your balcony, Bob touched down with barely a sound, the soles of his sneakers brushing against the floor. The wind tugged at his hoodie, making his hair tousled from the flight.

He stepped back, motioning for you to go inside. But you lingered in the doorway.

"Thanks for tonight," you said, your voice low, carried barely above the breeze.

He smiled, looking down at his shoes. "Anytime."

You hesitated.

Then stepped toward him.

Before he could say another word, you leaned up and kissed him softly.

He froze for a second. His breath caught, sharp and startled.

You wondered if it was a good surprise or a bad one.

But before you could pull away, his hand lifted, finding the small of your back, pulling you gently but firmly closer.

His fingers rose to your jaw, warm against the curve of your neck. His lips softened into yours, gradually going deeper, more certain.

You gasped softly against his mouth as his his thumb traced the edge of your cheekbone. The scent of him, laundry detergent and wind, filled your senses. Your hands found his chest, feeling the muscles and ribs underneath his hoodie.

His hand shot out, bracing against the wall beside your head with a solid thud, his body crowding yours back into the doorway. Your blood roared in your ears.

And then you heard a crack.

You pulled back slightly, breathless. "What was that?"

He glanced at his hand, still pressed to the wall… or rather, into the wall.

A small hand shaped hole had formed beneath his palm—brick flaked and splintered, dust crumbling down.

Bob blinked. "…Shit."

You burst out laughing.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Great. Smooth. Way to go, Bob."

"You dented my wall!" you exclaimed, but you were still laughing.

"Yeah, well, you kissed me!"

You stared at each other. Then you were both laughing.

You grinned. "Goodnight, Bob."

He stepped back, hovering just off the balcony, the night air catching the hem of his hoodie like wings. His eyes never left yours.

"Goodnight, y/n" he said, voice low and happy.

And then he rose into the sky.

Bob came back to Avengers tower at around two in the morning.

"Where have you been?!" Yelena ran to him in a range, then pulled him into a hug. "Don't just walk off like that without telling us where you're going!"

Bucky leaned against the wall behind her, his face a mixture of disinterest and worry. "She's right. You could have been hurt."

Bob wanted to laugh, he felt like a kid being lectured by his parents, but in a good way. He's never experienced that before.

"Did everyone forget the part where I'm invincible and have superstrength?" Bob patted Yelena on the back as she hugged him, muttering angrily that if she had to tie him to herself, again, she'll do it.

"Yeah, and what about your other version of pops by to say hello again?" Ava walked up to the living room with her hands folded.

His smile dropped. Ava was right. He slowly relearned to control Sentry's powers, but he never learned to control the Void. Hell, he barely understood what the Void even was, and thanks to Valentina, any scientist who may be able to clear that up was dead.

He didn't feel the void resurface as much since becoming an avenger. Even forgetting about him—especially since things were going so well with you.

"Ah, relax and let the kid have some fun, would ya?" Walker strolled out of the kitchen in bunny slippers and civilian clothing, his presence a welcome disruption of the tension. "You did have fun, didn't you, Bobby?"

Bob nodded eagerly, then slowed his movement when he saw Yelena's narrowed eyes. Now was probably not a good time to mention the fact that he got so excited from your kiss that he broke a brick wall with his hand.

"You be careful of pretty girls." She pointed a finger at him, then turned towards the hallway. "Hooligan, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

As his team all dispersed into their rooms, Bob plopped down on the couch. Instead of trying to wake up from a dream, he played with the strings of his hoodie, smiling as he thought of your laugh.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

A Lesson in Love - Bob

Pairing: Bob / Female!Reader (Referred to as Ms. T)

Word Count: 1.8k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Bob Being Adorable; Valentine's Day Shenanigans; Bob Deals with a Lot of Meddlers; Bob Has a Niece Named Phoebe; Reader is Female, but No Physical Description, Reader Referred to as "Ms. T" (The "T" stands for Teacher because I'm so Creative), No Use of Y/N

Summary: Bob has no plans for Valentine's Day. So, he gets set up to meet his niece's very cute teacher instead.

Master List

Bob didn’t really have any specific thoughts on Valentine’s Day. If he had a partner, he would do something special, of course, but he wasn’t bothered by the fact that he spent the last four Valentine’s Days in a row single. He was deployed for three of them and he didn’t have anything planned this Valentine’s Day. 

Quietly, he was honestly happy with it. Everyone seemed to put so much stress over a random weekday and he was content to avoid the chaos. But there were several people in his life who were not. 

And he was almost completely sure that his mom and Phoenix were scheming behind his back. 

“You still don’t have any plans tonight?” Phoenix asked Bob, who shook his head. 

“No. I was just going to do some more paperwork and probably call it an early night. Maybe I’ll watch that new documentary that Penny recommended.” 

“Please tell me that something in there is a code word,” Fanboy stated, causing Bob to roll his eyes. “Come on, Bob, just let one of us set you up on a blind date.” 

“I have a list,” Phoenix offered, but Bob shook his head. 

“A first date on Valentine’s Day? That’s a great idea! How could that possibly go wrong?” he returned sarcastically, causing Phoenix and Fanboy to share a look. 

But before anyone could speak again, Bob’s phone started to buzz. Fishing it out of his pocket, Bob saw his mom’s contact pop up and excused himself from the table. He answered the call as he walked out of the mess.

“Hey, Ma, what do you need?” 

“Why do you just assume that I’m calling because I need something, Robert? A mother can’t just check up on her son?” Bob waited for a moment before his mom added, “Do you have any plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“Goodbye, Ma.” 

“I only ask because I completely forgot that Phoebe’s parent-teacher conference is tonight and your father and I already made plans. I was going to have our neighbor, Ms. Abel, watch her for a few hours, but obviously she can’t attend the parent-teacher conference for us.” 

“What time is her parent-teacher conference?” 

“Seven.” 

“I’ll just watch Phoebe tonight. That's fine, Ma. I’ll pick her up from your house after work.” 

“Thank you, sweetheart! And maybe you’ll meet someone there—” 

“—Oh, sorry, Ma, there’s an alarm going off, I have to go. Bye.” 

“Robert Martin Floyd—” 

Bob hung up the phone and sighed to himself before heading back inside the mess. What was it about Valentine’s Day that made everyone lose their minds?

“Who was that?” Phoenix asked as Bob sat back down.

“My ma. She asked me to take my niece to her parent-teacher conference for her.” 

“That’s better than paperwork,” Fanboy conceded.

“Is her teacher cute?” Phoenix questioned. 

“Do you hear that alarm going off?” Bob suggested, causing Phoenix to roll her eyes. 

~~~~~

“Alright, you lead the way,” Bob stated, setting his niece on the ground from the car. “You’re the pilot here, Bee.” 

“Come on, Uncle Bob,” Phoebe called, grabbing his hand and pulling him with her. “We’re going to be late!” 

“Bee, we’re ten minutes early.” 

But Bob still let his niece practically drag him through the halls of her elementary school. Phoebe marched him down the ‘First Grade’ wing and stopped in front of a purple door. But Bob held her back from going inside.

“There’s people in there. Just sit and wait for a little bit. We’re early.” 

Bob sat Phoebe down in one of the short chairs meant for children and sat in the similarly short chair beside her. And with his long legs, he looked rather comedic sitting there. Phoebe talked his ear off about all of the art that was hung up and Bob complimented her paintings. 

The sound of the door opening caused Bob to turn his head. A couple stepped out of the classroom, followed by Phoebe’s teacher, who was dressed in a soft pink dress with paper hearts that were clearly cut out by her students taped to it. She bid the couple goodbye before turning to Bob and Phoebe, who jumped up from her seat when she realized that it was her turn. 

“Hi, Ms. T!” 

“Hi, Phoebe,” Ms. T greeted the little girl kindly before turning to Bob.

The wizzo in question awkwardly got to his feet from the child-sized chair under Ms. T’s gaze and tried to subtly smooth his shirt down. Phoebe’s teacher was cute, though he wouldn’t mention that to Phoenix or his mom. She radiated kindness but had that distinct look in her eye that she could quickly knock anyone down a few pegs. 

Bob could quickly tell why Phoebe liked her so much. 

“And who did you bring with you?” Ms. T asked Phoebe. 

“This is my Uncle Bob,” Phoebe stated, pulling Bob forward. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Bob returned, holding out his hand for Ms. T to shake. “My parents couldn’t make it, so I’m standing in for them. I’m Phoebe’s uncle.” 

“I already said that,” Phoebe reminded Bob.

“Oh, of course. I’ve seen your names on some of her forms. Please, come in.” 

Bob took his seat at the front of the room and was relieved that he wouldn’t have to look ridiculous sitting in a child-sized seat again. Phoebe sat in the hallway, coloring and playing with toys, while Bob and Ms. T discussed her progress. 

Ms. T showed Bob a standardized worksheet that listed basic skills with comments about how Ms. T thought that Phoebe was doing. Bob listened to her comments on Phoebe’s performance intently and was relieved to find out that they were pretty much all positive.

“The only area that I think that Phoebe can improve on is her confidence,” Ms. T stated, causing Bob to nod. “She’s smart and a very thoughtful little girl. And if I thought she knew that I wouldn’t say anything, but I don’t think she does. There’s nothing wrong with being quiet or shy, but I don’t want her to ever get discouraged or down on herself.”

“Shyness runs in our family,” Bob stated, causing Ms. T to smile softly. “My dad’s side. So, this isn’t a shock.”

“How is Phoebe at home?”

“She won’t stop talking or bossing me around, but I understand that school with kids her own age is a different environment from that.”

“Yes, it is. She’s very outgoing if it’s one on one or if she’s with her friends, but she just needs a little more support in public situations.”

“I could try and come to more of her school events. I’ll talk to my Captain about moving some things in my schedule,” Bob suggested, causing Phoebe’s teacher to nod. “Not that my mom isn’t here to support Phoebe, but I don’t think that she knows the meaning of the word ‘shy.’”

“I can understand that,” Ms. T mused, chuckling softly. “Well, I can give you a list of some class events that we have between now and the end of the year.” 

She got up from her table and walked to the back of the room to grab a piece of paper. Scribbling something on it quickly, she walked back over and handed the paper to Bob, whose eyes immediately dropped to the number that she had written down. 

“I’m assuming that your mom already has it, but that’s the number to my school phone. And my email too. And here is the kids’ schedule,” she continued, pulling out another piece of paper and handing it over to Bob. “You can feel free to call me during any of the breaks that you see where they’re in specials or lunch.” 

“Thank you,” Bob replied, smiling kindly in return. “I’ll let you know what events I can make.” 

They walked out to the hallway and Phoebe quickly popped up from her table and came trotting over. Staring up at her Uncle Bob with that distinct begging look that Bob always ended up cracking for, Phoebe glanced between Bob and her teacher.

“Ice cream?” 

“Yeah, I think we can get ice cream,” Bob agreed, kneeling down to Phoebe’s height. “But if grandma asks?”

“We got brussel sprouts.” 

“That’s right.” 

Phoebe smiled and bounced in place, eager to go. She bid goodbye to Ms. T, promising to see her tomorrow, before grabbing Bob’s hand and urging him away. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Bob called back to Ms. T, who laughed and waved goodbye to them. 

“I hope to see you again,” she returned before Phoebe tugged Bob around the corner. 

~~~~~

Four Months Later . . .

“Phoebe Floyd,” Ms. T called out.

The crowd of family members—and several supportive naval aviators—cheered as Phoebe jogged across the stage. Ms. T gave her a little badge to signify that she was now a second grader before gently nudging her to join her other classmates. 

And once they went through the rest of the kids, the day wrapped up. Bob picked up Phoebe and spun her around until his mom urged him to put her down so that they could take family pictures. After a few, Phoebe tugged on Bob’s hand until he bent down to her level. Phoebe leaned over and cupped her hands around his ear. 

“Ms. T needs help carrying stuff back to the classroom.” 

“Yeah?” Bob asked, causing Phoebe to nod quickly before leaning in again.

“Can I be the flower girl?” Phoebe added, earning a choked sound from her uncle.

Ms. T was in the middle of gathering the decorations when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning around, she smiled softly when she saw Bob jogging over to her. 

“Need any help?”

“I won’t turn it down.” 

“So, are you excited for summer vacation?” Bob asked Ms. T, who nodded in return. “Do you have any plans?”

“I was hoping that some cute naval aviator with these big dorky glasses and these big blue eyes was going to ask me on a date,” Ms. T stated, causing Bob to flush with embarrassment. “But I don’t know if that will ever happen.” 

“Well, maybe he was waiting for you to no longer be his niece’s teacher before asking you out,” Bob replied, taking the box from her hands. “Which reminds me, do you have any plans for Friday night?”

“I do now,” Ms. T replied with a wide smile. 

[bullet-prooflove]

New Characters Added:

Harry Wilson

Fics:

911:

The Wilds of Africa - Father Brian meets the love of his life doing missionary work in Africa

Animal Kingdom:

Positive - Pope didn't expect for it to happen sooner rather than later.

The Boys:

Addict (NSFW) - Billy realises he's an addict when it comes to you.

Chicago Fire:

The Work Shirt (NSFW) - You decide to torture Dom when he works late.

Chicago Med:

A Reckoning -  You turn to private investigator Jason Crouse after allegations regarding your ex-husband surface. (Nicholas Hayes x Reader)

The Right Time - Jack recruits a helper when he finally makes the decison to propose.

Ms Independant - Your history causes you to struggle when John asks to take care of you.

Endeavour:

Poison Pen - Morse's investigations have dire consquences when Ronnie Box turns up at your door.

Justified:

Checkmate - You make sure Tim never has to go through that again.

Leverage:

Sugar - You’re Harry’s first stop when he makes it back to New Orleans.

Bourbon (NSFW) - The things you and Harry get up to with a 10k bottle of bourbon… it’s sinful.

Court Days - Court days are your favourite days.

The Corkscrew - You realise Harry isn’t the person you thought he is when you see him on a date with another man.

A Southern Man - Harry and you discuss his revealation.

Mayor of Kingstown:

Armour - Robert doesn’t expect you to ask him to stay the night.

Happy Ending - You discover you're not the only one that's struggling to cope.

The Pitt:

At Your Alter - You discover Frank's tattoo when you undress him for the first time.

The Incident - Frank’s world is thrown into turmoil when he learns about your attack.

Mood - Jack reacts badly when you surprise him with a trip to Germany.

A Force of Nature - Jack makes a suggestion regarding Germany.

A Friend of Denny’s - Your relationship with Dennis takes a turn when his parents come to town.

A Cold Day In Hell - Dennis tries to make amends for his actions.

His Fucked Up Wang - John’s forced to treat your ex when he’s rolled into the ED.

Brave Little Boy - Robby wakes up to the baby kicking and gets a suprise.

[tonejo4ever]

Beast Hyde I love mix my two hyperfixations, and I had a fun time doing this. UwU I appreciate so much you liked this crossover ✨🧡

So, what can I say about this? ✨SILLY LORE TIME✨

I think Rachel in this au plays the roles of Lumiere and Ms. Potts, both at the same time, because she is very bossy and protective as a mother hen, but she can be an excellent hostess with Robert. She will prepare Hyde for the dance scene. This time they were childhood friends, because he needed her to have known Jekyll before he became corrupt, and to give her reasons to defend him and believe that her friend can be a good man again.

Jasper is a wolf because I weren't lose the chance to draw a little of him in his wolf form :3, I put him in a similar role he originally had in the comic, someone who listen, and be simpathetic and empathic, but he´s ferocious to control Hyde when he goes angry and let his insticts take over him. He entered the castle as a royal guard and met the prince advisor, Rachel, and they eventually fell in love. They formalized something during the time they were cursed, he carries her on his back and she warms him when he gets too cold.

And Hyde, well, it's the main course! Before being cursed, he had been the cunning and selfish Prince Henry Jekyll, who manipulated other nobles with his silver tongue and charming appearance, to increase his power and influences (Basically, Jekyll, but instead he is evil and greedy :p) Then all that power turned him into someone who thinks he can do whatever he wants (wink, wink). One winter night, at one of those vile balls he had organized for his pleasure and comfort, an old homeless woman came up and offered him everything she had, a small rose… And you know the story. Jekyll rejected the rose and laughed at the homeless woman, humiliating her. She saw that he had no kindness or true love in his heart and she transforms into a beautiful Enchantress. And she said: "You always act like a predator, waiting for your next victim, stalking for sport, and the only person you care about is yourself. Now, you will be a real predator… LIKE A BEAST" 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹 AAAA SO MUCH TEXT This info could be change, I apologize if I had a thypos or bad redaction, i´m not used to writte large texts on the road, but thank you for read all.

[rpking99]

Ms Okumara Getting Heated

Closed with @tokufan400

Continued from here

"I should be asking you that." Robert said. The yellow eyed man sat the papers down on a nearby table before walking to Haru. "You look like your about to melt." Robert said. On his end, Robert was going through the heat as well, his own cloth's hugging his chest and starting to become see through.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." She assured while working, a soft smile forming on her face as she happily looked over Robert's body. Reaching into a draw she pulled out a bottle, filled with a thick translucent liquid "This should help." She hummed before letting it pour into her tits.

Washing over her skin as she met out a deep sigh of relief

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Dennis Goris :: @DennisGoris :: #DueProcess

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

April 17, 2025

Heather Cox Richardson

Apr 18, 2025

Today, Senator Chris Van Hollen (D-MD) posted a picture of himself with Kilmar Abrego Garcia, the Maryland man whom the Trump administration says it sent to the notorious CECOT prison in El Salvador through “administrative error” but can’t get back, and wrote: “I said my main goal of this trip was to meet with Kilmar. Tonight I had that chance. I have called his wife, Jennifer, to pass along his message of love. I look forward to providing a full update upon my return.”

While the president of El Salvador, Nayib Bukele, apparently tried to stage a photo that would make it look as if the two men were enjoying a cocktail together, it seems clear that backing down and giving Senator Van Hollen access to Abrego Garcia is a significant shift from Bukele’s previous scorn for those trying to address the crisis of a man legally in the U.S. having been sent to prison in El Salvador without due process.

Bukele might be reassessing the distribution of power in the U.S.

According to Robert Jimison of the New York Times, who traveled to El Salvador with Senator Van Hollen, when a reporter asked President Donald Trump if he would move to return Abrego Garcia to the United States, Trump answered: “Well, I’m not involved. You’ll have to speak to the lawyers, the [Department of Justice].”

Today a federal appeals court rejected the Trump administration’s attempt to stop Judge Paula Xinis’s order that it “take all available steps” to bring Abrego Garcia back to the U.S. “as soon as possible.” Conservative Judge J. Harvie Wilkinson, who was appointed by President Ronald Reagan, wrote the order. Notably, it began with a compliment to Judge Xinis. “[W]e shall not micromanage the efforts of a fine district judge attempting to implement the Supreme Court’s recent decision,” he wrote.

Then Wilkinson turned his focus on the Trump administration. “It is difficult in some cases to get to the very heart of the matter,” he wrote. “But in this case, it is not hard at all. The government is asserting a right to stash away residents of this country in foreign prisons without the semblance of due process that is the foundation of our constitutional order. Further, it claims in essence that because it has rid itself of custody that there is nothing that can be done. This should be shocking not only to judges, but to the intuitive sense of liberty that Americans far removed from courthouses still hold dear.”

“The government asserts that Abrego Garcia is a terrorist and a member of MS-13. Perhaps, but perhaps not. Regardless, he is still entitled to due process.” The court noted that if the government is so sure of its position, then it should be confident in presenting its facts to a court of law.

Echoing the liberal justices on the Supreme Court, Wilkinson wrote: “If today the Executive claims the right to deport without due process and in disregard of court orders, what assurance will there be tomorrow that it will not deport American citizens and then disclaim responsibility to bring them home?” He noted the reports that the administration is talking about doing just that.

“And what assurance shall there be that the Executive will not train its broad discretionary powers upon its political enemies? The threat, even if not the actuality, would always be present,” he wrote, “and the Executive’s obligation to ‘take Care that the Laws be faithfully executed’ would lose its meaning.”

After Federal Reserve chair Jerome Powell’s warning yesterday that Trump’s tariffs will have “significantly larger than anticipated…economic effects, which will include higher inflation and slower growth,” and his statement that the Fed would not cut interest rates immediately as it assesses the situation, Trump today began attacking Powell. Trump wrote on his social media site that Powell is “always TOO LATE AND WRONG.” His missive concluded: “Powell’s termination cannot come fast enough!”

Firing Powell would inject yet more chaos into the economy, and the White House told reporters that Trump’s post “should not be seen as a threat to fire Powell.” Hedge fund founder Spencer Hakimian posted: “Cleanup of orange vomit on Aisle 3.”

There seems to be a change in the air.

Three days ago, on April 14, Michelle Goldberg of the New York Times wrote that the vibe is shifting against the right. Yesterday, former neocon and now fervent Trump critic and editor of The Bulwark Bill Kristol posted a photo of plainclothes Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) Officers kidnapping Tufts University graduate student Rümeysa Öztürk, and commented: “Where does the ‘Abolish ICE’ movement go to get its apology.”

Today, in the New York Times, conservative David Brooks called for all those resisting what he called “a multifront assault to make the earth a playground for ruthless men” to work together. He called for a “comprehensive national civic uprising” that would first stop Trump and then create “a long-term vision of a fairer society that is not just hard on Trump, but hard on the causes of Trumpism—one that offers a positive vision.”

Brooks is hardly the first to suggest that “this is what America needs right now.” But a conservative like Brooks not only arguing that “Trump is shackling the greatest institutions in American life,” but then quoting Karl Marx’s Communist Manifesto to call for resistance to those shackles—“We have nothing to lose but our chains”—signals that a shift is underway.

That shift has apparently swept in New York Times columnist Bret Stephens, who is generally a good barometer of the way today’s non-MAGA Republicans are thinking. In an interview today, he said: “[M]y feelings about not only Trump, but the administration, are falling like a boulder going into the Mariana Trench. So the memory of things that this administration has done, of which I approve, is drowning in the number of things that are, in my view, reckless, stupid, awful, un-American, hateful and bad—not just for the country, but also for the conservative movement.”

Stephens identified Trump and Vice President J.D. Vance’s bullying of Ukraine president Volodymyr Zelensky in the Oval Office as the event that turned him away from Trump. “America should never treat an ally that way, certainly not one who is bravely fighting a common enemy,” he said. Stephens also noted the meeting had “delighted” Russia’s president Vladimir Putin, who is now “emboldened…to press the war harder.”

We have been in a similar moment of shifting coalitions before.

In the 1850s, elite southern enslavers organized to take over the government and create an oligarchy that would make enslavement national. Northerners hadn’t been paying a great deal of attention to southern leaders’ slow accumulation of power and were shocked when Congress bowed to them and in 1854 passed a law that overturned the Missouri Compromise that had kept slavery out of the West. The establishment of slavery in the West would mean new slave states there would work with the southern slave states to outvote the North in Congress, and it would only be a question of time until they made slavery national. Soon, the Slave Power would own the country.

Northerners of all parties who disagreed with each other over issues of immigration, finance, and internal improvements—and even over the institution of slavery—came together to stand against the end of American democracy.

Four years later, in 1858, Democrat Stephen Douglas complained that those coming together to oppose the Democrats were a ragtag coalition whose members didn’t agree on much at all. Abraham Lincoln, who by then was speaking for the new party coalescing around that coalition, replied that Douglas “should remember that he took us by surprise—astounded us—by this measure. We were thunderstruck and stunned; and we reeled and fell in utter confusion. But we rose each fighting, grasping whatever he could first reach—a scythe—a pitchfork—a chopping axe, or a butcher's cleaver. We struck in the direction of the sound; and we are rapidly closing in upon him. He must not think to divert us from our purpose, by showing us that our drill, our dress, and our weapons, are not entirely perfect and uniform. When the storm shall be past, he shall find us still Americans; no less devoted to the continued Union and prosperity of the country than heretofore.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[daenystheedreamer]

joffmarge demon children

the thing with the kids names is margaery is a) sane and self-actualised and b) has a rabid guard dog who will kill that blonde bitch if he so much as pokes her. so if joffrey goes "i want to name our three demon children maegor rhaenyra and aerion" margaery can say no. and really cersei wouldn't even fight her on that even though she fights her on everything. she would convince herself it was her idea all along. so the kids do have to have normal names. theyre definitely having a set of insane twins tho. anyway guys under the cut

eldest child and daughter PRINCESS CERYSE BARATHEON. hightower targ-adjacent looks from alerie which i see as ash-blonde hair blue eyes. mini cersei and cersei's fave except after she turned 12 cersei started hating her.

eldest son PRINCE ROBERT BARATHEON. i think it would be funny if he had black hair and blue eyes because olenna stockpiled renly semen or found some random who looked baratheon enough. i want this to happen because it would drive cersei insane. because yes it makes it look like the robert genes just skipped a generation and joff IS legit but SHE knows thats not fucking true. otherwise brown hair brown eyes with a strong build. cersei hates this boy beyond measure. he hates her back def a little misogynist but obsessed with mommy marge

PRINCESS TYA BARATHEON dirty blonde hair green eyes. they were sure it would be a son and cersei marge were fighting over naming him after tywin or loras while joff was like maegor >:) anyway turns out to be a girl and cersei is like oh of course we should name her after ms loras and marge is like oh no we SHOULD honour lord tywin. this is also me referencing tya of tya and gowen fame. after cersei drops ceryse as favourite girlgrandchild she picks tya but its just to torment ceryse. tya hates ceryse because when ceryse was in her mean girl era she would bully tya.

PRINCE LORENT and PRINCESS ALICENT BARATHEON twinsies :3 brown hair brown eyes or brown hair green eyes. cersei sees some kind of a reflection in alicent (sad scared insecure little girl) or maybe its more like she sees a trembling mouse and wants to stomp on it. lorent is mentored by loras and the rest of the evil kingsguard so he's not normal.

PRINCE LYONEL BARATHEON, brown haired and brown eyed. gets sent off to myrcella and trystane in dorne and ends up astoundingly normal. meets his dad after not seeing him for eight years and is like man we should kill this guy. meets all his siblings and is like wow you are all insane

PRINCESS JOANNA BARATHEON fourth and final kid, brown haired and brown eyed. cersei thinks a brunette named for her mother is the greatest insult margaery could ever make. dies young maybe in a freak accident maybe due to the red keep's general evil and cersei WILL be making a scene at the funeral and tormenting marge over it. might be what makes marge snap and kill her. alternatively PRINCE CERION BARATHEON and he's cersei's fave in the style of joffrey and when he dies she goes apoplectic. marge thinks they'll bond over it but cersei in fact gets worse

anyway these are some guys i made up for them. is seven too many... i like it for the faith allusion but would marge bother on more pregnancies once she's pumped out a son and heir. if so pick and choose which ones are fun.

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

└➤ series masterlist 。✑ ───┐

warnings: child birth, miscarriage mention

Hattie's mother was an excellent midwife. Over twenty years of experience helping babies come into the world in over four different territories, with her little girl as her apprentice and aid. But she was old now. Fragile and prone to sickness. So when Mary Bradford went into labor with her first child, Hattie was the one called to their little house instead of her mother.

Mary was laid out on her bed in nothing but her night gown, her forehead glistening with sweat and clutching at the sheets as another contraction roared through her.

"You're doing so good, sweetheart," Hattie said as she patted Mary's forehead with a wet rag. "Won't be long now."

The young woman started crying again and Hattie shushed her, took hold of her hand and let her squeeze until it hurt. Then she panted: "I can't! I can't!"

"I'm sorry to say this, but you don't have much of a choice. This baby is coming no matter what," Hattie chuckled lightly.

"Please, please," Mary begged, took hold of Hattie's hand with new vigor and looked her square in the eyes. "Don't let me die."

Hattie remembered Mary's mother. She had been present during the birth of her youngest brother. All that blood. The screaming. Mary's father wailing and clutching at his wife like that would bring her back. Hattie knew she couldn't promise anything, shouldn't promise anything. But she couldn't help but take hold of Mary's sweaty cheek and say:

"I will try my best." Then she grabbed a spare cloth and wiped off her hands. "Now, let's check baby's positioning, yeah?"

Hattie smiled reassuringly as Mary winced and whimpered. Then her face dropped. Not a head. Two little feet. The baby was breech.

"I-Is something wrong?" Mary asked.

"Not much to worry about, but, I'm going to have your husband fetch the doctor. Just in case." Hattie wiped off her hands again.

"The doctor? No! They're only brought in if something's bad!"

"Mary." Hattie placed her hand on her shoulder. "The baby is feet down. I know how to deliver him this way but the doctor will be here in case anything truly goes wrong. I want you both to have the best chance."

"O-Okay."

When she left the room, Mary's husband was sat at a chair in the kitchen. He popped up from his seat as soon as he saw her. "I don't hear any crying?"

"No, no baby yet. I need you to run into town and get Dr. Floyd."

"The doctor? Is everything - ?"

"Everything is just fine, Mr. Bradford," she reassured as kindly as she could. "But I would like him here."

"Of course!" he said before he practically ran from the house.

Robert was still getting used to riding on horseback, but he was much better than when he first started out. At least he finally had some control over the horse Jake had given to him, a beautiful chestnut mare that was stubborn and liked to nip at him. Robert wondered if it was some kind of joke on Jake's part.

But that horse seemed to understand the urgency of the situation and followed Mr. Bradford's own out to that little house in the middle of nowhere.

He could hear the screaming from outside the house. Putting a reassuring hand on Mr. Bradford's shoulder, Robert went inside first.

"Don't push, Mary! Don't push!" Hattie instructed calmly as the laboring mother cried.

It really wasn't the right moment, but when Hattie saw Robert standing in the doorway with his medical bag in hand, she couldn't help but think he looked handsome. Sleeve garters around his biceps. That vest that looked slightly too tight, a chain dangling from his pocket that connected to his timepiece. Spectacles slipping down his nose. He had a single brown curl dangling over his forehead from his ride, and she desperately wanted to smooth it back. She knew he hated his hair being out of place.

He interrupted her train of thought with a small cough. "You called, Ms. Seresin?"

"Yes!" She looked back to Mary with pink tinted cheeks. "The baby is breech."

"I'm assuming you know how to deliver a breech baby," he said plainly as he set down his bag. "What do you need?"

She half expected him to question her ability as a midwife. To completely take over the birth because he was the doctor here. But she shouldn't have expected that of Robert Floyd; she knew him better than that. He was kind and knew what she was capable of. When she told him about her midwifery after she got a call for the first time since he came to town, he seemed in awe of her. It nearly made her blush then, and it definitely made her blush now.

"What I fear would happen has happened," she replied, looking back to Mary who writhed against the mattress. "The shoulders are stuck."

"Let's get to work then, Ms. Seresin."

Twenty minutes later and the baby was free. Screaming like a banshee and perfectly healthy. A little baby girl. Mary cried tears of joy as the tiny little life was placed on her chest, and Mr. Bradford practically burst into the room to see them both.

Hattie and Robert stood off to the side, taking turns cleaning their hands.

There was a look on Hattie's face that Robert couldn't really place. A sorrow. A joy. A hurt. She had been all smiles and laughter when the baby was first born. But now she was lost somewhere else, drowning in it. A memory maybe? He didn't know. But he wanted to find her and keep her from drowning.

"Did..." Robert started but couldn't find the words for a moment. "Did you and Henry ever have any children?"

She looked up at him, lips pressed into a thin line. "Yes. Twins. They...They came too soon."

He took her hand then. Freshly cleaned and still a little wet. Her hand felt so small wrapped in his. He was warm, too. She couldn't tear her eyes away from those veins that bulged beneath his skin and a thin layer of hair. He gave her fingers a squeeze and she squeezed back. Let herself indulge, just for once, when he tried to pull away and she kept her grip on him. He didn't seem to mind, however, because after a sudden intake of breath, he dragged his thumb across the back of her hand.

"I'm here," he whispered to her.

She nodded and gripped his hand just a little tighter. Let him lead her outside to the warm sunshine, fresh air, and the sound of cattle somewhere in the distance. The tears that stung the backs of her eyes abated as she looked out across the plains to the distant mountains, as she felt Robert's thumb rub soothing circles into the back of her hand.

The good doctor had been in Colorado Springs for nearly three months. Summer had now fully set in as the days grew long and the air hot. It was hard to imagine the town without him now. He was a fixture, a constant. Especially to Hattie. His presence in the boarding house drawing room was a comfort. One she hadn't felt since Henry died. Hattie looked down at their joined hands and a sharp pang of guilt and sorrow surged through her. Sour and sobering. With a final, selfish squeeze to his welcoming flesh, she drew herself away from him.

"Thank you, Bob," she said.

"Of course." And he watched her go back inside the cottage before he whispered gently: "Hattie."

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[beardedmrbean]

An Illinois grand jury has filed an indictment against an Illinois high school teacher on 52 additional charges relating to the alleged sexual assault and abuse of a student in 2023.

Video released in April showed 30-year-old Christina Formella getting pulled over during a traffic stop and being taken into custody after being charged with various sex crimes for having an inappropriate sexual relationship with a student in 2023.

Formella had been accused of sexually assaulting the boy in a classroom during a tutoring session before class began at Downers Grove South High School in December 2023. The victim’s mother discovered the alleged assault when looking through her son’s text message thread on his cellphone and then contacted police, prosecutors said.

During Formella's first court appearance March 17, she was charged with two counts of aggravated criminal sexual abuse and one count of criminal sexual assault.

On Tuesday, DuPage County State’s Attorney Robert Berlin announced that Formella had been indicted on 52 additional counts involving previously unknown sexual abuse and assault of the student.

The grand jury indicted Formella on 20 counts of sexual assault, 20 counts of aggravated criminal sexual abuse, six counts of indecent solicitation of a child and six counts of grooming, all felony charges.

Berlin’s office said in a news release March 15 the victim, who was 15 at the time of the alleged assault, went to the Downers Grove Police Department with his parents to report inappropriate sexual contact allegedly committed by the boy’s tutor and soccer coach, who was later identified as Formella.

The Downers Grove Police Department and DuPage County Children’s Advocacy Center opened an investigation, which led to the initial charges.

A further investigation that involved interviews with the victim in which he alleged additional sexual abuse by Formella, determined the sexual abuse began in January 2023 and continued through August or September 2024.

During that time period, Berlin’s office said, Formella allegedly sent the boy multiple text messages that were "grooming in nature." The investigation also found the victim and Formella allegedly engaged in sexual acts about 50 times, both at the school and at Formella’s home. The allegations claim the two engaged in sex acts at least 45 times at the school.

"The new allegations against Ms. Formella, including the allegations of grooming and that the abuse lasted nearly two years, are beyond disturbing," Berlin said. "I thank the victim in this case for having the courage to come forward during what I imagine is an extremely difficult time for him. 

"I also thank the DuPage County Children’s Center, particularly Investigator George Fencl, as well as Assistant State’s Attorneys Jaclyn McAndrew and Michael Fisher for their work not only in this case but for their continued efforts protecting our children."

Formella appeared in court Tuesday morning for a status hearing, where the state filed a second petition to deny her pretrial release, though Judge Mia McPherson denied the request.

Her next appearance is scheduled for Aug. 4.

Bodycam footage of Formella’s arrest showed her appearing confused when police asked her to exit the vehicle during a traffic stop.

They then arrested her and placed her in the back of a police vehicle, where she asked questions about her detention.

Formella could be heard sobbing in the back seat of a police vehicle and asked for her husband, her childhood sweetheart whom she married last year, according to reports. 

"I feel like I’m gonna throw up," she said in the March 16 video, continuing to cry in the back seat.

Formella, who was also a soccer coach, began tutoring the alleged victim after he broke his collarbone, and they began messaging each other on a school platform, according to court documents obtained by TMZ. The pair then allegedly exchanged provocative texts, followed by FaceTime chats that led to the December 2023 sexual incident.  

[blu3-ja3]

Hi! More context for my Cursed Gotham au! More specifically I was thinking of context for Jason and eventually the LoA and Talia. Eventually it led to all of this and I added more details to the Batfam timeline. There have been some changes to quite a few things like certain backstories and ages of certain characters.

So I was thinking that Thomas and Martha knew the Al Ghuls and were friends for a bit, Bruce and Talia both weren't born yet, maybe Martha and Mrs Al Ghul are pregnant together. Anyways during that time they make each other the godparents of their child, skip to them having a falling out because the Wayne's find out about Ra's hobby (League of Assassins).

So because there's paper work when the Wayne's are murdered little Bruce is sent to live with the Al Ghuls for a bit, like I'm thinking a year and a half because Gotham's justice systems are slow and Alfred is having trouble proving that the paperwork stating the Al Ghuls are the godparents of Bruce was nullified. So lil Bruce is trained to be Ras next in line, man's crazy and obsessed with immortality. Anyways lil Bruce just thinks he's being trained for self defense, so he can save people. Because if he could've done the thing he's seen the instructors do then maybe he could've saved his parents.

Alfred gets custody of lil Bruce and sees the kid really enjoys his martial arts. Alfred also sees how much lil Bruce hates being in the Wayne Manor and decides to take Bruce traveling to learn cool ass martial arts from different masters. Eventually when Bruce is a teen he goes back to Ras to finish his training, Bruce doesn't know that Ras is making him into a weapon. Mrs. Al Ghul is dead and Bruce doesn't know how. Talia and Bruce have a bit of a romance, nothing serious but the building bricks for their later relationship that leads to Damien's existence.

Bruce gets curious about Mrs Al Ghul's death and puts his detective skills to work and learns about some of Ras's plans. He learns of Ras making him into a weapon not the part of taking over Bruce's body. He also learns that Ras killed Talia's mother. Anyways Bruce gets pissed and is like nope I'm out, he tries to convince Talia to come with him. Talia refuses and they get into a big argument, they both say some hateful and horrible things before Bruce reveals Ras's hand in killing Talia's mom. Talia tells him she already knew and Bruce says that Talia is just like Ras before leaving.

When he's back in Gotham he's sad loner Bruce Wayne see Robert Patterson's Bats and becomes the vigilante. He gains a bit of a reputation for being extremely brutal and violent. Like I said originally Bruce didn't name himself, Gotham's people named him Batman. I'm thinking of a new reporter who writes articles talking about the local cryptid like being whose fighting crime. Like all the pictures are blurry as hell and all you can see are the squinting whites of his cowl or really blurry Batman shaped pictures of him flying across Gotham and kicking ass. Eventually as an off hand comment the writer calls him a bat man and the name sticks.

Bruce at like 16 is emancipated which officially makes him the CEO of Wayne Enterprise's and the owner of all his father's previous projects and money. Corruption has a chokehold in the business ranks due to a power vacuum. Bruce immediately starts rooting out corruption from Wayne Enterprises, initially wanting to fire everyone and start over completely. Alfred points out that if he does that he'll also fire the innocent people who had nothing to do with the corruption.

So begins Bruce's investigation of his own company, he notices that everyone is underestimating him. They think he's a stupid kid so he uses that to his advantage, he plays dumb for everyone including the media. 'I had no idea Mr. Kendall was embezzling from the company, I was going to give him a raise because if he needed more money then I'd like to pay him more but then Ms. Penelope told me where the money was going and showed me the ledgers, yes exactly... Hmm? Oh I found out because I was in his office looking for a pen, I saw the papers and didn't recognize them. Oh Ms. Sullen's front information just kinda showed up on my desk I hadn't a clue what she was doing!'

Bruce also set up the Wayne foundation to help with Gotham as much as possible; public housing, roads and parks, funding for schools, helping with health care. If Bruce can throw money to help fix a problem in Gotham he's doing it. Gotham loves their Loner, Emo, Socially Awkward Teenager, Golden Boy, Bruce Wayne and they'll defend him till the end. Like the one time a Metropolis reporter who had a live interview with a newly 17 years old Bruce and asked a rude as hell question that caused Bruce to freeze up a bit. The Daily Plant had to make a public apology to Bruce and fire the reporter.

Bruce also helps build and fund Arkham Asylum, in official interviews and outside of official interviews Bruce always has the same stance when keeping the Asylum up and running. That stance is that people deserve a chance to change, no matter how corrupt they think they are. Bruce makes a joke about Batman needing to go to Arkham, not for the vigilantism but for the fashion choices. I love the idea that Bruce Wayne has a bit of beef with Batman.

Bruce went to the Hailey's Circus and witnessed the death of the Flying Graysons, there's video of 18 year old Bruce Wayne running from his seat, jumping a barrier at the front, and quickly scooping up a little Dick Grayson from where he sat next to his parents bodies. In the video it shows Bruce holding the small boy and quickly making his way out of the tent with his butler/caretaker quickly following behind them. Gotham isn't at all surprised when the young man adopts Dick.

I think initially Bruce doesn't tell Dick about being Batman, like he's training Dick because it's a relatively healthy way of getting rid of all the anger the kid has. Bruce also takes the kid to therapy cause Bruce goes to therapy. I think little Dick knows Bruce has social anxiety and is immediately like Take me to all your public events! And Bruce does but is incredibly confused???

But it works well, when Dick feels Bruce getting too anxious about the crowd and attention Dick starts performing circus tricks. It takes all the attention away from Bruce and Dick is used to it, he loves the attention it reminds him of his parents in a way. It's their normal for a bit until one night Bruce as Batman is badly injured and stumbles back home only to collapse in a very visible place for little Dick to see. A Dick who's supposed to be in bed hours ago but couldn't find Bruce after a particularly bad nightmare. A Dick who sees his father figure bleeding out in front of him.

After Alfred saves him, Bruce has to explain to Dick why he kept it a secret for two years. Dick immediately is like I'm going with you, I'm helping you catch bad guys. Bruce is reluctant but concedes for only one case, that case being bringing in the killer of Dick's parents. A case that Bruce had been working on since that night, a crime lord by the name Tony Zuko came to the circus demanding protection money from the ring master who refused. As punishment Dick's parents were killed.

Que Dick making the Robin costume and demands no pants, he's a master manipulator and gets his way. Bruce is very hesitant about all the bright colors as well but Dick reassures him that if he can hide wearing this he can hide wearing anything. Bat doesn't immediately take Robin to find Tony, they kinda have a trial run for like a week. Bat sees that Robin is capable and proves himself to be able to hide well.

They eventually bring Tony to justice. Robin is a little menace that Gotham falls in love with and goons fear. Like I said Dick was the feral murderous Robin, goons can't hear a child's laughter without flinching and getting twitchy. Like Robin is as much as cryptid as Batman because no child can do the absolutely impossible stunts Robin performs on the regular. Not even Gotham's beloved Dick Greyson-Wayne, which starts Dick's public feud with Robin. Dick constantly "tries" to perform Robins tricks and fails, he even goes so far as to fake a broken bone after trying to do a trick at a Gala.

When Dick's like 11 Bruce helps form the Justice League, he begs to meet Superman. When Dick becomes 13 he finally gets to meet Superman, Dick also becomes the leader of the Teen Titans; Cyborg, Raven, Starfire, and Beast Boy. 3 years later Bruce stumbles across Jason Todd stealing the tires off the Batmobile (Dick called everything in the cave bat- as a joke which Bruce joined in on. It was a joke until Bats said Batcomputer in front of the JL and he just committed to the bit.) at first Bruce wasn't going to bring Jason into the vigilante side of everything.

Bruce didn't keep the secret as long as he did with Dick, after a month Dick let it slip accidentally. All three had a serious discussion that night at dinner. Dick wanted to become his own hero but didn't know who just yet. Bruce and Dick came up with the mantle of Red Robin as a temporary mantle until Dick figured out his path. Dick would stay as Robin during the months it would take to train Jason and then once Jason was ready they would exchange mantles.

They make a new robin suit for Jason because Jason is tiny, like he's severely malnourished. The new suit has shorts because Jason likes shorts and more pockets for snacks, Bruce also brings more snacks for patrols. Because Jason is smaller than Dick, Bruce gives Jason a boe staff. At 19 Red Robin helps Superman and Supes tells Dick about the Kryptonian superheroes. Dick becomes Nightwing in honor of Superman and Batman.

Robin at 12 saves a 5 year old Tim Drake from something minor, like baby genius Tim is trying to take pictures of the different species of nocturnal birds in Gotham. Baby Tim is on a roof trying to get closer to the edge with his camera and almost falls but Jason saves the kid. Que a very smart small child becoming absolutely obsessed with Robin and sneaks out to capture pictures of him, Nightwing and Batman. Jason helps form the Young Justice League; Mrs. Martian, Speedy, Kid Flash, and Aqua-Lad.

Two years later when Robin is 14 he's killed by the Joker, who beat the boy nearly to death before blowing up the building Jason was in. Before this Joker was getting increasingly deranged with his laughing gas and traps. Batman didn't notice mostly because he'd been able to cure the joker toxin and escape any trap before it was set off. Superman was off world when Bats called for him so it took a while to get back to earth.

When Superman arrived in Gotham he found Batman beating a nearly dead Joker on a live broadcast. After he had killed Robin, Joker decided to taunt Batman and try to lead him into a trap. Unbeknownst to Joker Batman was fully ready to kill him, Bruce was ready to break his one rule and then turn himself in. But Superman stopped him, he pulled the man away from the unconscious body. The last thing Gotham heard was the broken wail of Batman before the broadcast was cut off.

Joker was taken into custody and placed at Arkham until deemed mentally well. Gotham mourned the loss of the young Robin and kinda turned a blind eye to Batman's sudden increase in violence. A month later Bruce Wayne holds a closed casket funeral for his son Jason who died fighting illness. Jason is buried in the private Wayne plot at the graveyard next to Martha and Thomas Wayne. There is a memorial statue of Robin in the park.

A young Tim Drake tracks down Dick Grayson to Jump City and Titans towers. Tim begs the man to go back to being Robin. Dick refuses to go back, he's mourning his little brother and can't go back to vigilantism. Starfire has to remove Tim from the tower, Tim decides to become Robin himself. Tim sneaks into the batcave and is found by a very confused Alfred. Tim tells Alfred everything including knowing the secret identities of Batman.

Tim at 7 takes the mantle of Robin and does his best to prevent Bruce from killing criminals. Barbra Gordon becomes Batgirl to hopefully prevent Batman from accidentally killing someone in his violence. After a few months of Tim as Robin, Dick holds an intervention for Bruce with Alfred and Tim. They all managed to convince Bruce to take some time away from Gotham and go traveling. Dick promises to take on the mantle of Batman temporarily while Barbra continues being Batgirl and Tim continues being Robin.

Bruce first goes to travel around parts of India while there he meets with Talia again, they're both untrusting of each other until they realize it's a coincidence. They decided to travel India together and in the process have a relationship picking up where they left off as teens. They travel together for 3 months until they have another falling out, less intense as their last one and they both mutually agree to just be friends. Bruce learns Talia is trying to disassemble the LoA from the inside and he isn't happy about all the risks she's taking.

They split up and travel separately, Bruce continues his backpacking across the Eurasian continent. After another 3 months he returns to Gotham having figured his shit out and isn't violent. Dick is happy to give back the mantle of Batman back to Bruce and he becomes Nightwing again. Dick goes to Bludhaven and becomes their vigilante. Bruce and Tim run around and prevent crime until Joker breaks out of Arkham and kidnaps Robin.

Bruce is quick to notice Tim missing because Barbara is his babysitter and the Drake's had to leave for a business trip. Both Barbra and Bruce find Tim within two weeks of him being in Joker's and Harley's capture. Harley snaps a bit from all of Joker's torture and attacks Joker when he tries to harm Tim again. In the fight Joker throws an explosive at Batgirl that catches her off guard and paralyzed her. After Joker is placed in cuffs, Harley reveals that Joker was using Tim as a test experiment for his newest Joker Toxin.

The Drake's are contacted and told it would take time to create an antidote for the young boys. They relinquish their parental rights and vanish from the public eye, Bruce steps in and takes in Tim. It takes 4 months to find an antidote for Tim but there are still lingering effects on Tim from his time with Joker and Harley. So Tim is benched and helps Barbra create the Oracle system to help Batman while he's patrolling alone. Jim is only told the Barbra was Batgirl none of the others reveal themselves.

Stephanie Brown becomes Robin at 10 after she helps Batman take down her father. She stays in Gotham with her aunt and mom after convincing her mother to stay because she has friends here. Steph helps Cassandra and the two become inseparable, Bruce later adopts Cass who becomes Black Bat. Stephanie and Cass ran around together for a few years and attended school together.

Scarecrow releases a batch of fear toxin that was mixed with Joker's Laughing Gas, Duke's parents have an adverse reaction to the conditions and the current antidote doesn't work. Bruce takes in the young boy and covers all expenses to keep the Thomas parents safe until they can find a cure. When Duke was exposed to the Toxin his powers manifested, he and Bruce talked about Duke becoming the Signal.

Bruce and Selina begin their relationship as civilians, Harley and Ivy are released from Arkham and live normal lives in Gotham. Harley becomes a therapist for the Gotham vigilantes, Tim has recovered enough that he requested to become Robin again at 13. Stephanie gives the mantle to Tim and she becomes Spoiler.

Tim starts a new team of Teen Titans with Impulse and Wondergirl, their first mission causes them to accidentally stumble across the cloning facilities where Superboy Prime was being created. They release Kon and they form their team under the instruction of Nightwing and Starfire. Tim leads this team for multiple years and ends up in a relationship with Kon.

Talia is on the run from her father with Damien ending up in Gotham and comes across a freshly revived Jason, she doesn't know how he's back but she takes him in. She finds a second Lazarus pit under Gotham and puts Jason in for a short time. She continues with her plan and takes both Damien and Jason to Bruce. Talia explains to Bruce everything she knows including Ras's plans to steal Damien's body, she explains what she knows about Jason and how to help the catatonic man. She doesn't know how he came back but decided to help him by placing him into the pit.

Bruce takes in both boys and offers refuge for Talia which she denies. It takes months for Jason to have some semblance of normal again, not enough for him to go out patrolling but enough that he's helping Oracle from the Batcomputer. He's still dealing with a little bit of pit madness but not as severe, he's being helped by Roy and his daughter.

After a few months Tim passes the mantle of Robin to Damien and becomes Red Robin until he figures out his own vigilante name. Damien meets Jonathan Kent and they become the superson together, Jon helping curve some of Damien's awkwardness from being raised by multiple assassins. Cassandra also helps because she gets what Damien went through.

Damien is the first introduced to the public and when Jason is ready Bruce makes a story claiming Jason was in witness protection services because he saw the death of Robin. Gotham is so excited to have the boy back as well as the newest Wayne.

So the current Wayne Family is Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Duke, and Damien. Steph has her own family and so does Barbara.

The romantic relationships for everyone are as follows:

Bruce and Selina

Dick and Kori

Jason and Roy

Tim and Kon

Cass and Steph