#custody tips

[legallotus]

What Divorcing Parents Living Under One Roof Should Never Do 

Learn critical dos and don'ts for divorcing parents living under one roof, with real-life insights from the Ray J and Princess Love conflict.

Divorce is challenging enough on its own, but when divorcing parents continue living under one roof, the potential for conflict escalates. Recently, the public watched this unfold in real-time between Ray J and Princess Love. Their turbulent relationship became a cautionary tale when a video surfaced showing Ray J seemingly coaching their children to declare that their father never hurt their…

[burned-lariat]

I’m trying to see where they are trying to go with Laura constantly being the one to have sympathy for Esme and her saying what stuck out to her talk was her saying Spencer is the father.

I don't get it either. I'm concerned they're giving Esme her plot armor back.

[kids-worldfun]

5 Things You Should Not Do When You Have Custody of Your Child

It doesn’t matter if you have been separated for many years or co-parenting for a few, the knowledge of your rights and obligations is very crucial to making the environment as smooth and peaceful as possible for your child. Disregarding court orders or engaging in harmful behavior can have significant legal and emotional consequences. Understanding child custody agreements is crucial for…

[ranjith11]

Texas Standard Possession Order | Thanksgiving Custody | November 2022

Have questions about the November custody schedule or Thanksgiving custody? This month's visitation schedule is outlined by custodial (blue) and non-custodial parent (yellow). For non-custodial parents, Thursday periods of possession do not include Thanksgiving Thursday. Since it is an "even" year, Thanksgiving belongs to the custodial parent and that week will begin on the Friday prior to Thanksgiving this year. Please reach out to my office if you have additional questions about the holiday co-parenting schedule or need any holiday divorce guidance.

[utilityknif3]

Nsfw!!! tehee

Imagine being Simon Ghost Riley’s ex wife who he can’t forget. You two have a son together and after being on a mission for a few weeks, he wanted to take him out somewhere for some quality time since you had full custody.

Even though he’s been away for only a few weeks, you two haven’t seen each other for months now.

…

Simon knocks on your door hesitantly. He wants to see you, he needs to. But when you open the door, he doesn’t know what to say.

You’re so beautiful, you changed but you’re glowing.

You just greet him with a simple “hi” and let him in. Simon walks in, lowering his head so he doesn’t hit it on the doorframe and you both sit on the couch and wait…

“He’s not here” you say, breaking the silence and trying to make the situation less awkward after a moment of silence.

“Where is he?” He asks with his deep voice and thick British accent that makes your heart melt each time.

“He’s at his friend’s birthday, he’ll be back later…in a few hours” you reply not daring to look at him in the eyes.

“In a few hours…aight” Simon passes a hand through his short blond hair, trying to think of something to say.

…

You two have been trying to hold a decent conversation for an hour now, catching up on your respective lives. He tells you about the struggles of his job and you tell him about whatever’s been bothering you lately…until you felt his gaze lower to your hand, especially the finger where your ring is placed, the ring he placed. The ring you can’t get rid of even though you tried to.

“You still have your wedding band?”

He asks as he stares at the ring he passed on your finger a few years before, as if he was mesmerized. He wished to do it again, and again… see you all dolled up in your pretty dress for him with that beautiful smile on your face. You two were so happy that day, like it was the best day of your lives.

He wished he could fuck you again like the night of your wedding, slowly and steadily. It was so intimate, just the two of you, his hair tickling your jaw as he pounded into you. He remembers the way your arms were wrapped around his neck and the way your hands would move to touch his hair. He remembers the sloppy kisses he gave you while he was listening to the soft symphony your moans were composing.

Simon snaps out of his transe when you answer

“Yes…it’s a pretty ring after all”

He nods.

He feels dumb for thinking that you two still had something; you moved on and it was clear.

He doesn’t want you to know that he kept the ring and a few of your things too. He doesn’t want you to know that you’re the one in his mind when he’s alone jerking himself off and overstimulating his soaked cock trying to recreate what you would do to him. He’s ashamed. The shirt that you forgot to get back from him had already been stained with his cum so many times that it doesn’t even smell like you anymore.

You already moved on but he didn’t, he never forgot your dates where you’d be just the two of you on the couch watching an old crappy movie. He never forgot the long hours he’d spend sleeping on your pregnancy belly while you’d caress gently his freshly cut hair. He never forgot the way your son would grab his big tatted arm in his small hands…He never forgot the feeling of your pussy squeezing him and taking him so well. The way you’d ride him on nights he felt tired, or the way your tongue would swirl around his tip, trying to milk every drop of cum he had left in him.

Simon loves you, he loves everything about you and never stoped loving you…

…

…that’s why you’re on the couch right now with his face buried in between your thighs. Simon’s tongue passes through your folds and teases your clit slowly while you scratch his hair. He’s so good for you, going a bit faster each time he hears you whimper.

The tip of his tongue teases your soaking hole while your toes curl around nothing.

After a moment of this sweet torture, he finally decides that his pants were getting too tight and stops licking you. He lifts his eyes to look at you, his face all red from embarrassment as your hand leaves his hair.

“Please, let me fuck you like you deserve” He asks politely while you’re panting heavily. At this point, his dick is the only thing you’ve been wanting. It’s been a while, too long.

You agree with a nod and he doesn’t hesitate to lift you up and put you gently on the kitchen counter. He used to make love to you for hours on it, it was the perfect height. He could fuck you from the front with your legs over his shoulders or from the back with your boobs pressed against the cold granite countertop.

He takes a moment to appreciate your body and watches you all vulnerable and needy for him. He wants to make you cry, to make you beg for more because he knows you will want more. He’s the only one who knows what’s best for you.

As you adjust your body on the counter, Simon hurries to take his fully hard boner out of his pants and boxers. It’s bigger than you remember, covered of his precum and ready to stuff you full of his semen.

You bite your lip in anticipation the moment he grips your thigh to holds it up. He’s so hot when he’s on top, his eyebrows are furrowed as he lines up his dick with the hole of your soaked cunt.

He puts it in with a low “fuck” escaping his lips. You feel so good around him.

Simon pounds into you, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs, making sure to leave dark bruises on your skin. He’s loosing himself into your folds feeling your burning walls squeeze his cock too much for him to hold his orgasm.

He burries his dick deeply into you, his tip kissing your cervix at each thrust and eventually it begins to feel too stimulating, too good. Simon cums into you but doesn’t stop his hips from moving. The white substance drips down to the counter and his moans are higher and louder. Now, his thrust are messy and uneven because of the overwhelming pleasure he’s feeling trying to bring you to your climax.

You reach it eventually, your own juices melting with his as you two are panting messes. Simon looks at you, at your beautiful face he missed so much. He won’t let you go again.

…

About an hour later, after a good shower, he randomly decides to kiss you and mumbles “I love you”

I know the end is ass idk how to end fics 🤯 and tbh I know that my writing sucks also bc I have great ideas but poor grammar and vocabulary 😓 I promise to get better bear with me 🙌🏾

[healthyboom]

Smooth Sailing: A Guide to Child Travel for Divorced Families

Smooth Sailing: A Guide to Child Travel for Divorced Families is your go-to resource for navigating the complexities of traveling with children post-divorce. Packed with valuable insights and practical advice, this comprehensive guide offers a roadmap to ensure smooth and enjoyable trips for everyone involved. This guide covers co-parenting strategies and communication tips for traveling planning and preparation. Discover expert advice on managing child custody arrangements during travel, promoting family bonding, and creating lasting memories. Learn essential travel etiquette, safety measures, and techniques for keeping kids happy and engaged during trips. Empower yourself with the knowledge and tools to make every travel experience successful for your divorced family.

[luveline]

I would dieeee for some more of Spencer and bombshell after her getting injured😭 him taking such good care of her, the BEST doctors, researching every single option😭 reassuring her rhats shes just as pretty😭

—Spencer looks after you while you recover from a brutal injury. fem!reader, 1.1k

Spencer thinks it’s one of the team's more gruesome injuries. Hotch has been stabbed to mince meat and Emily half-killed, Elle got shot, and he’s had his fair share of violence, too, but he can’t imagine the horror of being hit in the face with a hammer. The pain so close to your eyes, your teeth, your brain, the fear and the sudden crack. He feels sick whenever he remembers the sound, and he was sick the first time he dreamt about the way you cried as it happened. Your strange yelp, the immediate drop to the floor. 

Spencer never hit somebody as hard as he did that UnSub. His gun whipped out possessed across the UnSub’s face, and then drove forward into their nose with a stomach turning crunch. 

They’re in custody, and you’re in bed recovering with some of the best doctors in the world. Spencer thinks you both won this round, even if it doesn’t feel like a win right now. 

“Shh,” he whispers, “shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay, don’t cry.” 

You cling to his chest as though worried he’s going to move out of reach, sobbing. You’re careful not to touch your face or his chest, the soreness too much, but the rest of you is clinging to him. You don’t have to worry, he’s not going anywhere. 

“Please, it’s okay,” he says, the tip of his nose to your forehead. “You can have another dose in twenty minutes. Just twenty minutes.” 

He supposes the pain reminds you of the full extent of the injury, your jaw fractured in two places, your gum traumatised, your face more bruise than anything else. You hate your appearance being out of your control, it’s making you panic —he can feel you shaking.

He’d sat down with your drink to find you already crying, he couldn’t have been gone for ten minutes, but it was long enough for you to fall deep into the throes of hysteria. You’d grappled for him as he sat down to hug you, your face hidden ever since, and now the shakes have started. He’s hopeless. 

But Spencer’s willing to do anything to make it better. “Can you tell me what’s upsetting you? Please?” he asks.

“It’s–” Harder sobbing, your tears dripping down from your chin to wet the thigh of his pants.

He has to calm you down.

Since you met Spencer, you’ve been the comforter. He can’t count how many times something has hurt him and you’ve rushed to save him. You’ve hugged and held and kissed him into smiling, you’ve never let him down, you’ve forgiven him after a hundred stupid mistakes, so Spencer doesn’t care that you’ve been inconsolable for days. He really doesn’t mind that he’s had to look after you this attentively. It’s his pleasure, and he’s getting better at it. 

He presses a few soft shushes somewhere in your hairline, his hand rubbing a circuit into your back with a firm pressure that never tips into roughness. He does it until his palm is numb. He could paint the slant of your back from muscle memory, fingers tripping down the creased fabric of your pyjamas, pulling back up to your neck. He’s never felt such tender sympathy. He hates that you’re in pain, but he doesn’t hate getting to rub your back. This is surely boyfriend territory. 

“You want something to drink now?” he asks quietly. 

You open your mouth to answer, sighing in pain momentarily. “Uh, yeah.” 

“Did you want the straw?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” He can’t force himself away. “You okay for me to move you?” 

“Yeah.” 

You can’t be blamed for short answers. 

There are surgeries to hold your jaw together when it breaks, and while you were unconscious (shock, rather than head injury), Hotch consented as your next of kin for the doctors to make sure things wouldn’t get worse, but it was Spencer who had to advocate for you afterwards. They’d wanted a metal connector to prevent dislocation. Spencer knew this could mean another scar, so he said no, because you might’ve said no had you been awake, and they should’ve asked you anyways. 

When you did wake up, you were vehemently against it. Which is fine, you can heal without it, but it’s scarier to do it unaided. Your jaw could dislocate if you do something wrong, which is not only horrifically painful, but a painfully horrific injury to have. You talk quietly. You take small mouthfuls of soft foods. 

Spencer looks at you now, tearstained, back arched like a kicked dog, and doesn’t know what to do. He wishes he were the one who got injured instead. 

He takes the hospital bed controls into his hand and presses the button to make the top of your mattress elevate. Tomorrow, they’ll send you home, and Spencer will have to construct a nest of pillows for you to sit in while you recover, but it’ll be worth it. Things won’t feel as intimidating when you’re in your own bed. 

“Lean back, beautiful,” he says. 

Your smile is a straight line with eyes lit up. “What for?” you ask. 

“Comfier. Less stress on your head.” You lean back. “Oh,” he adds, “and so I can get a better view of you.” 

Your eyes get impossibly brighter. “What do you think?” you murmur. Your voice sounds scratched to death from crying, tight from holding your mouth a certain way, but pleased anyways. It’s just as pretty as it always is to him. 

“You’re the prettiest girl in the world,” he says, reaching out to cradle your waist, his hand moving up and down the side of you tenderly. 

You have a bruise from under your left eye and bleeding down your neck, and you haven’t slept right for a few days, but you’re undeniably beautiful in Spencer’s eyes. 

You’ve been the most beautiful girl in the world literally from the day you met onward, with as much to do with your heart as your lovely face. He should tell you that, but he doesn’t. 

“Can I have water now?” you ask, covering his hand with yours. 

His confidence wobbles. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Sorry.” He grabs your drink, water spilling down the side to wet his hand. 

“Please don’t make me laugh.” 

“I’m not trying to,” he says pathetically. 

He holds the cup of water to your face and you guide the straw between your lips. Spencer’s sure he’s been in love with you forever, and it’s all but cemented now. 

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader

Simon is silent.

He should be focused. He should be going through the plan, the optics, over and over in his mind until it's memorized.

He should be Ghost, but he's stuck on Simon.

Simon has a baby, and you. He has a family now. A family that will need him.

And you need him.

You didn't say it outright. You didn't ask for anything, actually. You only asked what he wanted, how involved he wanted to be, what he wanted to do. You told him he was welcome in Orion's life, as much or as little as he wanted, and you promised you could continue on without him, if that's what he decided. You talked about the baby's life, custody and trading off and everything else, all while he nodded along, watching the way the sun refracted in your eyes, how it shimmered across your skin.

You don't understand yet, but you will. You and the baby, you're it now. You're the only things that matter.

You're his.

"Alright, LT?" Johnny shouts over the roar of the plane, and Simon can only nod, still lost in the morning stretched to early afternoon, the memories he's so desperately trying to scar into his brain. They're fleeting, and short, and he holds onto the hope that he'll get more of them, more moments, more time.

A buzzer sounds. A light turns green. He takes a deep breath, rolls his shoulders-

and stands as Ghost.

He waits patiently at your door.

His bones ache, still decompressing from the last two weeks, mind and body trying to slowly slink out of fight or flight into something else, something new and unsteady.

Into being... this, whatever it is. A stranger to his child and future wife.

He triple checks his phone on the way to your flat, ensuring he's following the plan, the meeting time, the invite to a T.

Come for a late breakfast, maybe we can take a walk? You're more than welcome to come see him, anytime, and we can chat.

Anxiety crawls up his throat and back down, settling in his stomach like hot stones, tipping him over from one side to the next, nearly making him unsteady on his feet. He trips over his doubt, his fear, his worry again and again, brows creased together as he tries to push it all from his mind.

How is he supposed to leave you two here, again? How will he make sure you're safe? He'll need to move you to a secure home, somewhere in the country, most likely. A small town, where-

"Simon, hey." The door swings open and there you are, Orion on your hip, a soft hand supporting the juncture of his head and neck. He's grown in the two short weeks Simon has been away, the agonizing reminder that he's missed so much.

"G'morning." He rasps, and you smile shyly.

"It's good to see you."

"You too." 'You too' doesn't even begin to cover it, he thinks wryly. Doesn't even begin to encapsulate the breadth of emotion he's holding now, the obsessive circle of thoughts that revolve around you and the baby, his family.

Just standing in front of you, seeing the two of you whole, soothes an ache in his heart, a bleeding hole from a wound that only you could heal.

It's too much, and not enough.

C'mon in. I'll make some tea."

[pathologicalreid]

next of kin | S.R.

disaster strikes and you and Spencer try to take custody of your younger sister

part two

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: actually might be gn! but i'm too scared to say it is. death, orphan-ing, funerals, child custody issues, blood, general cm violence, like actually an abhorrent amount of death. sorry i killed your parents for the sake of my fanfiction can we still be friends? word count: 3.33k a/n: this is the fic that this post is about. i am in fact my own worst enemy. i hope y'all like it actually genuinely i am most definitely overthinking this. if your name is maya im sorry that sucks.

“What did your parents say?” Spencer asked, walking into the conference room that the local precinct had offered to you.

You had been staring blankly at your phone since you got off the call with your mother, “Uh, they said thanks, but no thanks.”

The uneasy feeling had settled in your stomach as soon as you found out the team was being called to your hometown, and you had been nauseous ever since you found out the UnSub’s pattern.

Married couples with an older child who had moved out and a younger child who was still at home.

Your little sister was a surprise, you had incorrectly assumed your parents were done having kids.

Until today, you wouldn’t have traded Maya for the world, but now you sat in fear of your family being targeted by a serial killer. Hotch had offered them a protective detail, but they declined. Self-righteous as they were, they told you it wouldn’t feel right for them to accept help that couldn’t be offered to everyone.

Clenching your jaw, you stood at the table, “I’ll go by later and check in on them.”

Spencer had met your family twice by now. Last Christmas he had tagged along to meet them and celebrate with your family before the two of you spent New Year’s with his mom. Then, while your sister was on Spring Break, they flew out to Virginia, and you and Spencer had shown your family around Quantico and the District.

Maya had loved Spencer, partially because you loved him, but mostly because of his magic tricks.

“Do you want me to go with you?” He asked, stepping up next to you and placing a hand on the small of your back.

You sighed and shook your head, “No, not if you’re needed here.” You reached up and cupped his cheek, smiling softly, “Thank you for offering, Spence.”

He nodded affirmatively, “If you change your mind,” he offered. Gently, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before the two of you returned to the rest of the team.

The fact that your parents lived only five minutes from the police station gave you some relief, but you still felt tightly wound. Everyone had noticed. You just needed this case to be over.

The porch lights were on when you got there, and you used your house key – which you had never taken off of your keychain - to open the front door. “Hey, kiddo,” your dad greeted from the couch. A peek into the kitchen showed you that your mom was wiping down the counters. It all felt so eerily normal.

It was dark by the time you had gotten there. Maya was already asleep, but you tip-toed into her room anyway and kissed her goodnight before going back downstairs. Once you had hugged both of your parents and told them you loved them, you made your way back to the police precinct.

By nearly three in the morning, there was no new information, and the team was starting to consider calling it a night until the police chief got a call.

“We just got a call. Lady reported shouts coming from her neighbor’s house at 86 Meadowbrook,” he informed you, putting his hands on his hips and looking around at the team.

None of them even spared him a returning glance, everyone’s eyes were on you.

Blinking rapidly, you nodded assuredly, “I have to go get Maya.” You didn’t even recognize your voice even as you said it. It couldn’t have been your voice. That was the rasp of someone far away from you.

All of the other voices around you were muffled, you couldn’t hear what people were telling you, let alone understand them.

Maya. Maya. Maya.

Brown eyes. There they were, right in front of your face. “Let’s go get her,” Spencer whispered.

You had been speaking out loud. Repeating your sister’s name like a prayer without even realizing it.

Hotch let you go with them, but he made it abundantly clear to you – and the rest of the team – that you weren’t working this case anymore.

Surrounded by reverent voices in an SUV, JJ drove while Spencer stayed in the back with you. He held your hand tightly in his.

The house was closed off with police tape. Bright yellow plastic fluttered in the wind as you watched your team and other emergency personnel enter and exit. At your insistence, Spencer went in to get Maya, it felt like it had been hours before he walked out, carrying her in his arms.

Carefully, he brought her to you, and you pulled her close to your chest, blocking her eyesight as two body bags were brought out of the house.

You didn’t hear anything after that. You just let yourself be moved to wherever you needed to be, holding your kid sister as she cried for your parents.

They had to take their bodies to the hospital even though they were already gone, and you needed to be the one to confirm their identities. Spencer stayed with Maya while you were busy. She had cried herself to the point of exhaustion, you were grateful that she was sleeping, and then you felt cruel.

By sunrise, she was still asleep, and you had been set up in that same conference room from earlier. Sitting across from you was a social worker, a representative of the state. Your lips had parted in shock as you looked at her, “What do you mean they denied my request?”

In an attempt to be helpful, JJ worked with you to file an emergency request for custody of Maya, and the case worker had just told you that the request was denied. “The state doesn’t believe your request is valid,” she told you.

Your mouth went dry, “I don’t…” you glanced over at your little sister. “Our parents were murdered last night, and they won’t let me take custody of my sister?” You asked indignantly, peering at the social worker. It wasn’t her fault, somewhere in your grief-ridden brain you knew that, but you couldn’t help the feeling that she was somehow your enemy.

“They don’t believe you can provide her with a stable living environment,” the social worker, Brittany, explained.

Narrowing your eyes, you responded, “A stable living environment like a foster home? I’m her sister. We’re family – the only family each other has left.” You stood up, excusing yourself for a moment before walking out of the precinct. Once you were outside, you promptly hurled into the bushes.

That was how he found you, to the side of the building with your hair haphazardly moved out of your face, dry heaving into the shrubbery. Gently, Spencer placed a hand on your back before starting to rub small circles on your back, “You should eat something, love.”

You just shook your head in response, you weren’t hungry. “They won’t let me take her,” you whispered morosely, straightening up, you kept your back facing him.

“What?” He asked, his hand abruptly stopping its movement on your back.

Taking a deep breath and sitting on the curb, you looked up at Spencer. “The state thinks I’m not stable enough to take her in,” you said, resting your chin in your hands.

Your boyfriend crouched down so that he could sit next to you, “Are you going to challenge it?”

“Of course I am,” you cried. “But what happens to her in the interim, Spence? She gets placed with whatever foster home here and I go back to Virginia? I see her when the family court resolves this in two years?”

Treading carefully, Spencer cleared his throat, “What are you going to do?”

Defeated, you shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m…” your voice trailed off. “My parents are dead, Spencer,” you murmured softly, tears welling in your eyes.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around you, “I know, darling. I know. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t think I can do this alone,” you whispered, leaning gently into him.

Spencer turned to kiss your temple, “It’s a good thing you’re not alone then. I’m not going anywhere.” He waited for a moment before continuing, “Give me something to do. Give me a job to take off of your shoulders.”

In the end, you let Spencer take over funeral planning. He thanked you for trusting him before the both of you went back into the precinct.

You had just hung up with a family lawyer who had offered to take your case, letting your phone drop to the floor, you let your arms hang at your side. Someone had taken Maya to get breakfast while you spoke with the lawyer.

At the sound of the phone falling to the floor, Spencer stepped into the conference room, letting the door click shut before him. “Hey, what did he say?”

Pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you took in a deep breath, “Um, he said he’d be willing to take the case if I could put together a case plan to present before the judge.”

Before that phone call, you didn’t know what a case plan was, you could’ve gone your whole life without knowing what a case plan was.

“I need a year-long plan for how I’m going to prepare to have Maya in my custody, but he said a year is the best he can do,” you said, staring blankly at the wall ahead of you. “A year?” You whispered aimlessly, “I’m not waiting a fucking year to take custody of her. I have to take her home, Spence. I have to.” It wasn’t your intention to snipe at him, but you felt like you couldn’t help yourself.

The events of the last twelve hours threatened to take you down, but you had to stay strong for Maya.  

Taking a shaky breath, you looked up at Spencer, “Why is it that every time I convince myself that it’s going to be okay, I get tossed to the ground again?” You asked him.

Maybe because you weren’t fully convinced. Maybe it was because it had only been seven hours. You needed to remind yourself of that.

“She’s a ward of the state?” Spencer asked for clarification, holding you tightly.

Nodding absentmindedly, you rested your head on his shoulder as he swayed gently. “She can stay with me until after the funeral, and after that, she has to go with the social worker.”

The sad look on Spencer’s face told you that he was running out of ideas, and you were coming to the very same conclusion. “We could get married,” he offered.

“Stop, Spence,” you said, shaking your head. You couldn’t believe this was where he was going.

He shrugged helplessly, “I’m serious, Y/N. If we get married, they might think we’re stable, as a couple. They might give us custody.”

Your shoulders slumped, “I don’t want to get married just to get custody of my sister.” It certainly wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Spencer, just not like this.

He nodded understandingly, “I know, but I’m just saying. If that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it.” Placing a comforting hand on your knee, the two of you sat in silence for a moment. “Do you have any ideas?” He asked you carefully.

Looking through the blinds of the conference room, you saw the rest of the team coming back to the precinct. Setting your jaw, you nodded, “I might.”

Opening the door, you had Maya go in with Spencer while you approached your Unit Chief. “Hey,” Hotch said, a glint of sympathy in his eyes. “How are you holding up?” He pulled you away from the people, wanting to give you privacy.

This wasn’t fair, they were still working on an active case. A case that was disturbingly close to you, and yet, you felt you were out of options. “I need a favor,” you blurted to him, wringing your hands. Your nervous energy made it impossible for you to stay still.

Hotch nodded, “What do you need?” He asked, studying your composure with the eye of a profiler.

You took a deep breath, “I was… I need you to call in a favor with someone. Anyone, really. The state won’t let me take custody of Maya, but I can’t let her become a ward of the state. Not when I’m right here, ready, willing, and able to take her.”

“Okay,” he responded, not even pausing to think about it.

Taken aback, you looked at him curiously, “I- that’s it? I had groveling prepared.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly as if he was trying to tell you it wasn’t necessary. “You’ve been a part of this team for years and not once have you ever asked for anything in return for everything you do for everyone else. This is the least I can do,” he told you.

You couldn’t help it. Overwhelmed, you tackled Hotch in a bear hug, “Thank you.” Your voice was low, “Thank you so much.”

Succinctly, Hotch hugged you back before you pulled away, “I’ll go make some calls.”

It was the smell.

The smell that you’d sensed countless times before on the job, the metallic tang of the blood. It should’ve been mostly dried by now – you supposed you were more susceptible to the scent, considering it was your parent’s blood, but it put you on high alert.

Emily had brought you by so that you could pack a bag for Maya, but you found yourself stuck on the landing. To one side, there was your childhood bedroom and Maya’s room. On the other side, there was your parent’s room.

“Y/N?” Emily called your name from downstairs, “Are you alright?”

No, you wanted to say, but you bit your tongue, scanning the house you had grown up in. “This doesn’t belong here,” you told her, glancing behind you as she made her way up the staircase.

You didn’t have gloves, so instead you pointed at the figurine that was resting on the bookshelves, a little bear facing in the direction of your parent’s bedroom door. “This is in the wrong spot?”

Nodding, your eyes followed the ceramic bear as Emily picked it up with a gloved hand. “It’s mine, it should be in my room,” you informed her. Your parents never changed anything about your childhood bedroom, not since you moved out. “It was like it was watching them,” you thought aloud.

“Do you think the UnSub did it?” She asked you gently, her voice was low but steady.

Blinking rapidly, you kept your eyes focused on the figurine, “Little Bear,” you murmured, “They called her Little Bear.”

Emily shook her head in confusion, dark hair swaying as her head moved. “Who was called Little Bear?”

Dropping the bag you had packed to the floor, you buried your face in your hands, “I should’ve seen it sooner.” The victimology, it all suddenly made sense to you. “When I was a kid, there was a family like mine. A brother who was in his twenties when his parents had another baby, a girl. They called her Little Bear.”

Realization dawned on Emily’s dark features, “Like this bear?”

You picked up the bag and started making your way back down the stairs. “Their mother made those figurines. The parents died in a fire two weeks ago – they left everything to the younger sister. It was all over the news. God, I should’ve figured it out sooner.”

“Hey,” Emily said sympathetically, “You had other things going on. None of this was your fault.” Her voice was stern, harsher than you’d ever heard her, as she pulled out her phone and called the team.

Your teammate drove, passing the police station on the way to drop you off. They left for the takedown, and you felt yourself floating into the precinct. Maya was waiting in the conference room for you, watching cartoons on someone’s laptop.

Kneeling in front of your little sister, you tapped the space bar, pausing the video. “Hey, kiddo,” you whispered, reaching over, and smoothing her hair away from her face. “How are you feeling?”

She had cried herself to sleep earlier, and you felt like you hadn’t been around enough. Maya sat up on the couch and rubbed her eyes, they were red, but not teary. “I miss mommy,” she told you, pouting slightly.

You nodded gently, moving to sit next to her before you pulled her into your lap. At six years old, she was all gangly limbs, just starting to grow into her own person. Just old enough to understand death, “I know, baby. I miss them too.”

“They wouldn’t lemme go home,” she continued, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I wanted Thumper,” she whined, sounding younger than she was.

Looking up at the light, you silently begged for your tears to go away. “I got him for you,” you told her, reaching into your bag and producing the small stuffed bunny that you had given her as a baby.

You savored the way her eyes lit up as she grabbed the stuffed animal from you.

“So, you and Thumper are gonna come to stay with me in Virginia. Do you remember going there? You said you liked it?” You kept smoothing her hair back as she held her toy.

She was silent for a moment, “Will Spencer be there?” She asked quietly.

Smiling slightly, you nodded, “He and I live together, so he’ll be there with us.” Slowly, you started rocking back and forth, trying to soothe the both of you simultaneously.

“As long as he doesn’t pull money out of my ear,” she answered succinctly, shutting her eyes as she leaned up against you.

There was approximately an hour before you watched the team return to the precinct, slowly, you laid Maya down on the couch before walking out. “It was a clean shoot,” you heard Rossi tell Morgan, and one look at the rest of them told you everything you needed to know.

The team went back to the hotel, and Spencer filled you in on the funeral arrangements he had made on your behalf. You were about to try to get some sleep when Hotch approached you and told you he needed to speak to you.

“I called a good friend of mine on your behalf, and he gave me some information. We were able to work out a plan,” he told you, sitting across from you in the hotel lobby.

You were about to tell him that a case plan wouldn’t work, but he held his hand out, telling you to wait.

He nodded before he kept going, “He was able to file an emergency request to grant you temporary custody of Maya, and it was granted.”

You felt sick to your stomach, “She’s mine?”

“Temporarily, you’ll have to take care of some formalities back in Virginia, but you have full custody of her,” he informed you. “You’re being granted family leave, and I’ve encouraged Reid to apply for it as well,” Hotch told you, reaching out and placing a hand on your shoulder. “I am… I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through this but thank you for coming to me when you needed the help.”

You nodded absentmindedly, your head still whirling with the information that you had just been given. Stumbling, you walked back to your hotel room that you were sharing with Spencer and Maya.

The funeral was planned, the custody issue was solved, all there was left to do was…

“Baby?” Spencer said softly as you swung open the door, “Everyone else took Maya to get ice cream, I figured it couldn’t-“ his voice broke off at your first sob.

Everything you had held in came bursting out, all of the grief and stress and exhaustion nearly knocked your legs out from underneath you.

But Spencer was there to catch you.

part two

[could-they-be-a-pro-wrestler]

Wrestling lore is really funny to explain to non-wrestling people, mainly because you have to suspend your disbelief much more than you would do for stuff like anime or superhero fiction. Think of it like this; it’s normal for a shonen anime protagonist or a superhero to demonstrate they have superpowers usually because it’s established early on. That also goes for other parts of the lore, such as the world-building, the MacGuffins, and the history of that world.

But in wrestling, characters and storylines change all the time and are ongoing (I’ve seen the term “longform storytelling” used). So you end up with HUGE leaps in logic, such as:

1) There’s a supernatural being from hell who temporarily became a biker gang member, and then went back to being a supernatural being from hell

2) There’s a male model who gave out grooming tips who eventually evolved into Captain America/Homelander.

3) Triple H committed burglary on camera. He invaded Randy Orton’s home, beat him up, destroyed some of his property, and then threw Orton out the window. But it’s all fine because he’s the good guy, so he’s still employed by the WWE.

4) Dominik Mysterio is beefing with his dad, who literally fought for child custody of him in a wrestling match. Keep that in mind anytime you see Dominik not getting along with Rey.

5) Edge got sent to hell, but is okay now.

6) CM Punk was once a cult leader, but stopped doing that after he lost his hair. Then he became the opposite, as in he turned into an anti-authority rebel.

7) A lot of wrestlers, such as Sheamus and Shawn Spears, apparently used to work at WWE as background staff/security guards.

8) Real life famous music artist Bad Bunny is part of the lore and he actually beat a world champion (Damian Priest) in a match. And I don’t mean Bad Bunny is playing a character. In the WWE lore, Bad Bunny is playing himself.

(Feel free to add on any other leaps in logic from pro-wrestling)

[tyranno-solei-rex]

Update I don't think I'm in love with him but I am definitely not normal about him. He's my favorite bandmate -- I'm The Newbie in this ensemble and a lot of the time I feel like they know stuff I don't or like I'm a worse musician than them. He advocates for me: helps me get mic'ed up so other people can hear me, makes dumb jokes and plays off my bits, yells out "SOLEI TAKE A SOLO" during songs when nobody else does, starts playing random chords and invites me to jump in and then compliments my improvving, tells me he's proud of me for picking up on songs so quickly. He's really funny and confident and cool and has fantastic fashion sense and I think I'm a little obsessed with getting his approval. I really like the way his face looks [he's attractive in a pathetic sort of way] but I've determined I just really want him to be my friend. It's not daddy issues cuz my dad freaking rocks so I think I just really look up to him. I just don't usually like people so it's weird that I admire someone this much.

In conclusion I just think I need middle aged friends who give me the validation I so crave to make up for my crippling insecurities and fears of inadequacy when navigating adult life. I do not want to have a romantic relationship with a divorced father of three, guys, don't worry

I am not in love with a divorced father of three I am NOT in love with a divorced father of three

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Heroes To Villains

DILF Yandere Superheroes x Gender Neutral Superhero Reader CW: Noncon, imprisonment, minor violence, gratuitous amount of firearms, super powers, super soldiers, spitroasting, general yandere behavior, bratty reader Word Count: 3.8k (I am sorry this took a bit for me to get to, only took a few hours to write though. I hope you guys love it. Feel free to tip if you do~)

The city you were stationed in was under attack by some fairly destructive super villains. They were either traitors born of the same government program that had produced you and the other super soldiers you worked with or they were sent by another country to attack the retired super agents of your country. Though it was also possible they were a rogue foreigner with a vendetta. All the people making up your squad had been in the military and had made significant enemies.

Their goals did not really matter so much at the moment. It was more important that they were defeated before they caused any casualties.

There were two of them. One of them with an ability to lash out with streams of fire and smoke and another that could jump up really fast and high before slamming down and causing a large explosion on impact.

They were no match for you and your comrades. Red and Ace had handled much worse threats than these two with ease. Ace had been a top pilot before undergoing medical experimentation that left him with angel-like wings and the ability to shoot energy blasts from his hands. The man was like a living B-52. And Red was basically a human tank. Very little could so much as scratch his skin and he had tremendous physical strength.

Both of them had soared through the ranks and had distinguished themselves as competent generals in the last great war. Now they were retired and used their abilities as super soldiers to become heroes and protect the capital from the strange threats that had been unleashed during war time. Mostly the occasional villain. Sometimes a mutant animal.

You had just been a simple medic. Nothing too fancy, but you had hesitantly taken the opportunity to go through experiments that would allow you to heal others much more effectively and without the need for invasive surgery. Most of the super soldiers gained a unique ability and also became more resilient to damage and agile.

And you had gotten those perks too, but not to the degree as everyone else. Though you had gotten an extra ability that most people lacked. Hyper accurate aim with long distance weapons. But you also suffered a drawback when compared to your peers. You got exhausted easily, having very little stamina.

Who could forget the time you had saved the city by firing the railroad gun at the giant robot that used mutated biological components in its construction? Firing a 19,000 pound shell and obliterating an entire giant robot with one perfectly executed shot had been amazing.

You longed for that kind of usefulness again. But currently you were a bit bored, as a long range support unit you frequently hung back a bit. Red and Ace normally cleared everything up themselves without having need of your abilities.

Ace had plucked the hopper from the sky and injected him with a serum that would knock him out cold until he could be taken into custody where his abilities would be removed completely, if they could be. Red had similarly taken out the fire user who had discovered that his searing flames did little more than make Red sweat a bit.

They regrouped together before they started walking back to you, each carrying the limp weight of an unconscious enemy on their shoulders. It would be a few minutes before they got to the rendezvous.

You heard the gruff voice of Red on your comm line.

“We got em’ On our way back now.”

“Affirma-”

You were cut off by a sudden shift underground followed by a woman jumping up from the earth below you and punching you hard enough to launch you several feet.

There had been a third and they had split up to take you on individually.

As you fell through the air you took out your side arm and fired every round in rapid succession. Each one aimed for her heart. Each one hit their mark. But when you hit the ground you had smacked your head pretty hard and the world faded to black.

You woke up in a medical bed in the basement of your headquarters. You were quite dizzy and you felt like you were certainly going to vomit.

You held your hands to your head and your palms flashed.

Much better. If you hadn’t been knocked out you would have simply been able to heal whatever injuries you had sustained in a flash. Oh well you were better now.

Ace walked in to check on you right as you had been getting up. He burst into a smile at seeing you awake. His blue eyes full of joy.

“Hey runt! Glad to see that you’re getting up and about!”

“Who’s a runt!?”

He flexed his biceps to drive the point in.

“Red, get in here, The runt is up!”

You heard his loud steps reverberate upstairs as he bounded towards the basement door and came rushing down.

“It’s been five days, we were beginning to really worry about you, squirt.”

He was smiling but you could tell his red eyes held a lot of concern in them. It seemed like there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how.

“Well, no need to worry. I am not as fragile as a regular person. And I am fully healed now.”

“Yeah… but you weren’t hit by a normal person. And you aren’t as durable as most of us…”

That was Ace.

“Yeah, yeah, I will be more careful, okay? I know my limits. I don’t need a lecture. I took the enemy down and I am okay now so we don’t need to linger on it.”

Ace put his hand to his face and his wings quivered in annoyance as they often do when he tries to lecture you and you just won’t have it.

You rolled your eyes and finally Red spoke up.

“This isn’t the first time you have gotten hurt on the field. Even with precautions like staying back you still end up injured!”

“What’s your point? It's a battle, injuries happen. At least I can heal.”

Ugh, an Ace lecture you were used to. You didn’t need both of them nagging at you.

You rolled your eyes as Red continued.

“Have you ever considered… going into another career? You volunteer at the hospital… maybe you could do that full time?”

That did it.

“Excuse me? I wasn’t in any command position, but I was a trained soldier all the same! I think I can handle myself!”

You stormed away from them and went up the stairs, slamming the door behind you. Assholes. Who were they to tell you what you should consider doing? It was your life and if you wanted to use it fighting genetically enhanced monsters and super-criminals then that was your right to do so.

It would become evident in the future that this incident was where everything started to go wrong. Going forward in battle they always had at least one of them at your side whenever it was physically possible for them to do so.

When you were eventually still injured even with that precaution, even though it was minor, they pressured you again to quit being a hero. They thought maybe you just were too attached to them to leave so they even suggested that you could still be their medic but you would stay on at the base. You could even still operate the railroad rifle that could fire shells from miles away whenever a large foe approached the city.

But you wouldn’t have it. Fuck them. You told them that if you had to form a new squad in a new city then you would do so.

They frantically apologized immediately so they let it go.

It was unfathomable that they would ever allow you to do such a thing. Go off where they couldn’t protect you even a little? Where some inexperienced whelp of a leader would surely get you killed? Not a chance!

But neither could they allow you to remain a front line combatant. Not after the injuries and not with how easily you became fatigued when exerting yourself.

The solution was ugly, but it was what it was. You left them no other option for your own safety.

Though it would make them criminals themselves they had to do it for your own good. They had to keep you here with them where you would be safe and secure. They could turn the base’s AI defenses to keep you here and make sure that you were safe. They could also have it alert them through their comms if you there was any trouble while they were on a mission.

You were laying on your bed with your hands behind your head. You stared at your ceiling and contemplated all that you had been through. The war, seeing comrades on the battlefield ripped apart with no way to save them as they bled out in agony. You had to protect people from that in every way that you could, and if you did die on the battlefield then that was fine by you.

The intrusion of Red and Ace barging into your room out of nowhere pulled you from your thoughts and you regarded them both with a scowl.

“What NOW!? Can’t you guys at least knock? I mean seriousl-”

Ace cut you off with a hand gesture for silence before Red spoke up.

“Listen squirt… we decided something. We can’t allow you to join us on the field anymore…”

“Didn’t you just apologize for saying that after I threatened to leave? Whatever, I am out of here!”

You hopped up to gather your belongings and set out at once, the mere sight of the two heroes making you want to go on a rampage, but Red pushed you back onto the bed, then Ace picked up where Red had left off.

“Well that’s not all, runt. We also decided… you can’t leave here either…”

You started laughing. It had to be some kind of joke. But the tension that filled the room told you otherwise. You looked from Red to Ace and the empty expression from Ace and the guilty one from Red told you that they were deadly serious.

You grabbed your sidearm and launched yourself at Ace, you weaved past Red and twirled yo get behind Ace and held your arm around his neck with your gun aimed at his head. You didn’t speak a word, your intention clear.

There was no way you would be kept here.

You couldn’t go for Red as small arms fire would bounce off of him, but at point blank range Ace was toast. You backed out of the room, pulling Ace along with you. He cooperated fully. Even a pair of overprotective psychos didn’t want their brains blown out.

Out of nowhere a robotic arm emerged from one of the sockets in the walls. It seized your gun and then Ace flipped your positions with him behind you.

They had reprogrammed the defenses of the base to not allow you to have a weapon. These two were not former generals for nothing. They knew how their adversary, you, would react.

You slammed your foot down on Ace’s and smacked your head behind him to hit his nose. Such weak attacks did nothing to dislodge you from his ironclad grasp.

“Stop this childish behavior and just accept things. This is for your own good. If anything this little outburst has proven that you need to be protected because you certainly cannot control your emotions!”

Red was in front of you, still looking at you with that guilty expression.

“I’ll go get your weapons from your room.”

Ace and you watched in the doorway as Red got a sack and rummaged through every single inch of your private space to look for what was now contraband.

“Come on! If you are going to keep me here at least don’t go invading my privacy like this!”

Much to your embarrassment you actually cried a bit as the large man went through all your things.

He started by removing your pistols from your weapon’s display case. Your Beretta M9, your SIG Sauer P320, you… dear god no… not your baby, not your Magnum Research BFR!

You thrashed more as you saw him take that one.

Then he moved on to your bookshelf. He took out your religious text from the shelf.

“Hey, keep your grubby mitts off of that! It’s sacred!”

“Yeah, Red, don’t you think you should focus o-”

He opened it revealing that it had been cut out and housed one of your many sidearms.

“Of course,” Ace said flatly.

When Red finished with all your pistols he moved on to the ones mounted on your wall. Your Mauser M 98, your Browning BLR, and your little Marlin 70PSS.

The rest of the search was much the same. All but one had been found. Red had to get a second bag for them all. The ones in your desk, under your bed, and the one in your mattress.

Well at least they hadn’t found your most precious gun-child…

“Okay I think I got them all. Nowhere else to search. Be truthful, did I miss any?”

You wiped the tears out of your eyes and lied convincingly. You tried to look as defeated as you could.

“No”

Ace moved the two of you out of the way so Red could take your weaponry to the armory. As he started to leave the room he noticed his footsteps sounded odd in one place.

He pressed his large foot down in the spot a few times, narrowing his eyes.

Fuck.

He bent down and realized he could remove the floor board under the rug in that spot.

He found it, the bag unzipped and your M1 Garand joined the rest of your firearms.

“NOOOO!!! That one is my favorite! It PINGS when you use it!”

Now you were truly defeated, they had gotten every single one of them…

“Holy fuck, how many did you need??”

Ace joined in.

“Yeah that’s all a bit… much…”

“If your only offensive power came from guns then you would make sure to have one near you at all times in case of infiltration or emergencies…”

Ace sighed and let you return to your bed in peace. Or what peace could be had in your glorified prison.

Later in the evening they knocked on your door.

“Hey, we made your favorite food for dinner! And made your favorite dessert too…”

That was Red, you could hear the nervousness in his voice. He knew you would hate him now. You ignored them.

“Come on, don't be like this, you have to eat!”

And that was Ace, insisting that not complying with his psychopathic behavior was childish.

You opened the door and took the food tray. Both of them smiled.

“There, see? We can all still get along. We worked very hard on that meal for you!”

You were sure that they had, they were both skilled cooks. You stared at them expressionless and slammed the tray into their faces before slamming the door.

Ace looked furious but Red held him back.

“Come on Ace… they just need to adjust…”

But you refused to adjust. You ate only when they were out of the house. As the days went by you didn’t speak a single solitary word to either of them, you may as well have been a ghost.

Well… it would have been. Had you not been doing your best to make them the two most miserable men on the planet. You destroyed all the toilet paper, clogging every toilet in the base with it, you destroyed the fridge twice, you broke the TV, tore the couch, the robotic arms stopped you, of course, but you could manage to do a bit of damage each time before it stopped you.

Even Red was getting annoyed with your behavior.

They had both tried everything to get you to behave. Punishments ranging from not eating anything but flavorless oatmeal for days to being forced to sleep in a bed with one of them so they could make sure you didn’t cause any destruction while they slept.

Finally they had had enough, things could not continue on like this and it seemed like you may never open your eyes and see that they were just trying to keep you safe. Without them you’d have ran right into the jaws of danger.

They discussed it among themselves and had one more idea. You needed to feel loved in every possible way. They loved you so much after all, that’s what all this had been about, to protect you because they cared for you. But clearly they needed to step things up a notch or ten.

When they came home that day they barged into your room and grabbed you, taking you kicking and screaming into one of the many spare rooms the base had.

They had outfitted it with a huge bed, the walls painted your favorite color, fresh roses filled a heart shaped vase on the nightstand.

“Let go of me! What did you drag me here just to give me a newer bigger room? A prison is still a prison…”

“It’s going to be…” Red started.

“Our love… nest…” Ace finished, blush evident on his face.

“No thanks. Fucking weirdos.”

“Come on, sex is known to alleviate one’s mood!”

“Yeah, just give it a chance”

Ace smashed his lips into yours and kissed you deeply, you looked at him stunned.

They were serious… You wanted to wretch… Fervently you struggled, trying to get out of Red’s grip but he handed you off to Ace who wrapped his wing around you and led you to the bed.

They took your clothing off before moving on to your own. All of you had scars due to combat and training, and you had seen them nude in the showers before, but this was different. For the first time you felt vulnerable and scared under their combined gaze.

You covered your genitals but they each removed and held one arm so they could appreciate the view. “Come on, don’t be like that. Nothing we haven’t seen before,” Ace whispered as he spread your legs apart.

“Red, did you bring the lube?”

“Yeah, right here.”

Red opened a bottle and lathered both of their growing cocks so that they were drenched with the stuff and then pressed some to your hole and massaged it in. They had no intention of letting this be a painful experience for you. They wanted to show how much they cared about you.

You tried to clench. To close yourself off from them. But the probing fingers would not be denied. You squirmed uncomfortably at the sensation of cold lube being worked into you.

“Try to relax, it will be much better if you embrace us.”

“FUCK YO-”

Red cut you off with a kiss. You tried to bite his tongue but his tongue was no more vulnerable than the rest of his body.

Two sets of hand roamed and pet, and groped your body. Gently caressing you as Red made out with you. When they felt as if they had explored every part of your body they flipped you on to your belly, with Red on his knees in front of you. His crotch level with your face.

Ace was behind you on his knees between your legs, holding them still as he wedged himself closer to your entrance, until the tip of his cock was kissing it.

You couldn’t kick because he had control of your legs. You couldn’t punch because Red had your arms pinned. Now they just had to plug your bratty mouth and you wouldn’t have any means of protest. Verbal or otherwise.

They knew you’d try to bite so Red took your mouth, claiming it with his cock. You tried to move and turn away but once Ace sank his cock into your sensitive depths you gasped in surprise so Red took the chance to put his cock in your soft mouth. He did not go in balls deep, neither of them had yet. They wanted you to enjoy it. To relax. Not worry about being hurt or gagged.

Red humped into your mouth carefully and slowly while Ace did the same behind you.

“Damn, for someone so opposed to it you fit me so well.”

Then Ace added, “Your mouth feels amazing babe. He used his thumb to draw lazy circles into your arms where he held them down. He sighed in pleasure when he felt the pleasured moans Ace was coaxing out of you. Much to your dismay.

But you couldn’t deny that it felt nice. Your body relaxed, just a bit, as the men slowly bred a bit of the stress you had been under out of it.

Now that it seemed that you were enjoying yourself, even though reluctantly, Ace decided he could speed up just a bit, rolling his hips as his cock dug further into you.

Red was going a bit faster too now that you had acclimated and stopped trying to resist so hard. He let your arms go, sure that you had finally realized how silly fighting was. The large man stroked your cheek as he continued thrusting into those sweet lips.

Ace was the first to cum, his wings outstretching fully and deep voice gasping as his large nuts filled you with wave after wave of his seed. His large cock twitched inside of you, pushing you over the edge and into your own orgasm.

Feeling all your muffled cries of pleasure right in his prick caused Red to start cumming. He pulled out, not wanting to choke you on his copious amount of semen that he knew all super soldiers produced in spades, instead cumming all over your face.

Ace pulled out of you and was the first to speak.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You didn’t respond, you were still panting from the workout you had just received. You didn’t protest when Ace pulled you into his lap and held you with your head nestled into his chest. Your head laying right on his hawk tattoo. You didn’t protest when red scooted beside him and kissed you tenderly on the forehead. You even let them clean you up and feed you your favorite meal that they diligently cooked for you while you waited politely on the couch. They figured your resistance to them before was just because you had needs that weren’t getting met.

And from that day forward they knew that anytime you got too snarky or rebellious all they had to do was make time to fuck the brattiness out of you.

[zweiginator]

divorced dilf patrick who meets you when you're his waitress at a diner one night <3 he's sad because the divorce was just finalized and custody with his daughter is fucked up but there you are, so sweet. asking if he wants a refill of his coffee. and he talks to you for hours, until he has to go home, it's much too late. he tips you $300, waits in his car to make sure you're safe.

and he comes around more and more. his face lights up when he sees you and he notices how you blush when he asks,

"how are you pretty girl?"

eventually you give him your number. you decide to put the ball in his court. but you're nervous, because it's been days and he hasn't texted or called and you haven't seen him at the diner.

but he messages you late one night. says hi pretty girl.

you shouldn't be this giddy. he's so much older than you.

now, when he comes into the diner, he has you sit down with him when it's slow. he purposely comes later and later to make sure you can. he asks you what clothes you like to wear; he's never seen you in anything but your serving uniform.

so you show him things you like. purses and shoes and dresses. even bikinis that you think are pretty, even though it's february.

and patrick shows up with bags of clothes for you. some are exactly what you showed him, some are things he found cute.

but you don't really cross physical boundaries. there's always been a thick, wobbly wooden table between the two of you. the prying eyes of other patrons and your managers.

but one day you see him out at a local bar. your friends notice patrick looking at you.

you wave to him shyly, sweetly. patrick notices you're wearing these adorable mary janes he bought you. he smiles.

and then he buys you a drink, and then another and another.

and then you're laid on the sink in the shitty bar bathroom, the lights flickering around you as patrick pounds into your wet little pussy, your new shoes dangling off his shoulders. in your fucked out daze you beg him to cum inside you over and over and over and he almost does when your eyes roll back.

but that's how he became a father in the first place.

[kids-worldfun]

Child Support: The Do's and Don'ts You Should Know

In any case, if you are a parent who is actually required legally either to provide for or receive child support, then you have no choice but to accept this. Fact is, child support is one of those things that can feel overwhelming on one side of the equation and like a lifeline on the other. But regardless of your point of view, the laws and policies regarding child support are in place for a…

[ranjith11]

September 2023 Standard Possession Order | Your Complete Guide | Chris Schmiedeke

In this video, we delve deep into the intricacies of the September 2023 Standard Possession Order. You don't want to miss these essential insights into your legal rights and how they are affected by this order. Join us as we uncover the secrets and provide expert tips for navigating through the September 2023 Standard Possession Order effectively.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I think my favorite “fanon” interpretations of nightmare have to be like cartoonishly evil and silly. Or like, old and powerful and grumpy about it and you best get off his lawn.

Peepaw Nightmare, he complains about his back and how “back in my day!” and he calls Killer “boy” when he’s upset with him. “Boy quiet.” “Boy quiet.” “Boy quiet now.”

Killer uses the movements of his tentacles to predict the weather like some older folk say they can feel the weather changing thanks to things like their “bad knee.”

And most of the time NM’s tentacles usually can predict the weather. Nightmare smacks killer over the head with his tentacle like an older man hitting the ankles of youngsters with a cane for being rowdy.

And like peepaw is really knowledgeable about a ton of things but also doesn’t keep up with modern technology and killer uses this to fuck with him for amusement. Convinced him a roomba is some type of highly intelligent pet.

And nightmare knows he’s being fucked with, but he’s just too stubborn and prideful to “get with the times.” And killer knows that he knows, so it’s like a game to see who cracks first.

Peepaw Nightmare uses the “it’s because you’re always on that damn phone” with killer a lot. Even in situations where it doesn’t make any sense. Killer threatens to put him in a nursing home frequently.

And nightmare has this big specific chair thats just for him and everyone knows it but it’s become a game to see who can sit on it for how long without getting caught. (Cross is the only one refusing to probably).

Killer frequently hears “why can’t you be more like cross and dust?” from the old man whenever he’s Had Enough of the antics.

And nightmare knits like cartoonishly evil versions of holiday sweaters for the group and has like the fucked up creepy doll equivalent of a beanie baby or porcelain doll collection. Dust feels like a sort of kinship with dolls and the other dudes have like a comical fear or aversion to them. Nightmare named every one like they’re his kids & the only ones understanding it r error & dust.

Everyone else refuses to call the dolls by name, besides cross who does it in a reluctant creeped out way.

Nightmare & error have old people beef over aus like old neighbors beefing over property lines & mowing the others lawn or something. & nm beefs with color about being a “good influence” on killer.

Nightmare calls dream at random intervals just to curse him out and insult him before hanging up and refuses to answer whenever Dream calls first. The “stars vs bad sanses” “negativity vs positivity” war/balance doesn’t actually exist or is just tipped enough in nightmare’s favor that he doesn’t worry about it so instead the twins just squabble over the golden apple though phone like its a custody battle over a beloved pet.