#horrible split custody arrangements

[bandofchimeras]

more unsolicited advice for poor girls & queer & trans kids: - do NOT MARRY THE UPPER CLASS GUY FOR STABILITY and confuse it for love. - do NOT have his children without a PRENUP & a childcare & custody agreement set up in advance. - you ARE marrying your in-laws. if they look down on you and see you as unworthy of their son, it WILL impact you and any children you have. - re kids: you are making an economic decision. raising children is a full-time job. ensure you are being adequately compensated. - if you can help it, NEVER mask your queerness for this kind of "getting stable" relationship - it will just stunt you late into your midlife and give you a lotta baggage to work through. -usually rich/upper class guys have emotional problems they will feel it is part of your agreement to tolerate & accommodate. be aware, pay attention to red flags or warnings from friends as you are entering an economically dependent position.

If it seems too good to be true, it probably is!

_______________________________________________ Stay safe, and remember if you find yourself being financially, emotionally, or physically abused, there is help out there! Domestic Violence Hotline for US: 800-799-7233 An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Stay smart, remember your worth, stay connected to a community of equals...and FINANCIAL INDEPENDENCE is key!

[val-made-a-mistake]

Currently imagining a scenario where you and Eddie have some sort of split custody arrangement for Venom, and you have some sort of NSFW dream about Eddie, and Venom sees the whole thing because of brain link or whatever, and then shares this exciting development with Eddie the next time he's bonded to Venom

venom is definitely not one to keep a secret, for sure 😭 thank you so much for your request, i hope you enjoy. :) smut-wise, it's a bit more focused on eddie than my previous fics where it was either symbiote-focused or an even split, hope that's okay. this was SO much fun to write!

warnings: brief smut, mentions of oral f receiving, mentions of "striking" the reader but it's totally a misunderstanding, loneliness, mentions of eating people/murder

word count: 3.3k

//////

It had been six days since Eddie had left for Seattle, and honestly, you hadn’t been expecting to fall into this loneliness so quickly. Venom might have been keeping you company by providing you with an endless stream of commentary in your inner conscience, and the chickens were constantly squawking and squabbling and wandering the length of the apartment as per usual, so it wasn’t like the space was totally silent, but still, Eddie’s absence was more saddening than you thought it would be. Over the course of the six days, you struggled to busy yourself. Of course you preferred Eddie having a job as to being without one, but one thing you particularly hated was how vague investigative jobs were, so as a result, you had no idea when he would come back or how long the work would take to be done.

For the time being, it looked like you were stuck here.

Before he’d left, Eddie had asked you to babysit Venom and his apartment, and now that you’d been here for an extended amount of time, you felt horribly restless.

Feeling the weight of the quiet apartment settling in, you cast a glance around the room. The hum of the refrigerator seemed to amplify in the sort-of silence, and you found yourself drawn to staring at Eddie's belongings scattered around.

Your gaze fell on a framed photograph on the shelf – Eddie with a carefree grin, arm slung around your shoulders. The memories flooded back, and a bittersweet smile touched your lips.

As if sensing your thoughts, Venom's voice rumbled in your mind.

EDDIE IS DEFINITELY MISSING OUT WITHOUT US AROUND.

The symbiote's attempt at comfort was appreciated, but it only deepened your sense of solitude.

Sighing you folded yourself into a ball on the couch, tucking your chin into your knees. The TV in front of you was off, and you had no intention to turn it on. For now, it was okay to mull in the quiet.

You mumbled into your knees, “What do you think he's up to in Seattle?" 

CATCHING BAD GUYS. KICKING BUTT. EATING SEATTLE FOOD. ZOOMING AROUND. ACTING PATHETIC WITHOUT US THERE.

“V, you and I don’t know anything about investigative journalism,” you put in gently.

Venom was, of course, offended.

I KNOW A LOT ABOUT EATING BAD GUYS!

“Yeah, but Eddie won’t let you eat bad guys in Seattle any more than he does here.”

It was at that moment that Venom popped out from your shoulder blade, miniature head scowling.

HE SHOULD!

“Wanna go get a bite to eat?” you interjected, effectively ending the conversation. “I’ll even let you drive, if you want.”

Venom grinned much too wide for his intentions to be anything but nefarious, so you quickly added, “No eating people.”

You turned fast and pointed to the pizza box sign in the kitchen. “Eddie might not be here, but that rule’s definitely still active while you’re in my body, okay?”

Venom, for lack of a better word with his gaping mouth full of super-sized fangs, pouted.

YOU ARE NO FUN!

I just don’t want to be involved in any murder, you wanted to say, but slimy, black, glittering goo was already wrapping and contorting around your middle. Venom was enveloping you, taking over.

It was a bit of an unpleasant sensation as Venom’s monstrous gooey head locked into place over where yours used to be, and rows of impressive fangs unfolded in your suddenly super-sized mouth. It felt like somebody had cracked an egg over your head and the yolk was dripping down your body. You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to it. You had no idea how Eddie put up with it.

For how quickly his annoyance started, Venom seemed to get over it pretty quickly. He grinned and licked his lips.

I WOULD LIKE TO GO TO MCDONALDS.

//////

The room was shrouded in the quiet stillness of the night. The dim glow of a bedside lamp cast a warm pool of light on the walls, creating a cozy haven within the four corners of Eddie’s bedroom. You were in bed. Venom, for the first time that day, was quiet.

Under the soft blanket, your eyelids were growing heavy with the weight of the day's endeavours. You still missed Eddie, a lot, so much that your nightly FaceTime call almost wasn’t enough. Seeing his face on your laptop screen was just a further reminder of how far two states away felt, and how binded you felt to him since you met him — he pulled at you without even realizing it, like you’d been sewn together with invisible thread.

Hopefully he wouldn’t be in Seattle for too much longer.

The rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to synchronize with the slowing pace of your breath. As the minutes ticked away, you found yourself on the threshold of the dream world, caught between wakefulness and the gentle pull of slumber. Not even the distant murmur of passing cars was enough to distract you now.

Closing your eyes, you surrendered to the sensation of falling asleep, gently gliding down into the abyss of dreams. Eddie’s bedroom, once familiar and defined, now blurred at the edges, transforming into a surreal landscape of colours and shapes.

As you drifted further into the realms of slumber, a sensation of weightlessness enveloped you. It was as if you were floating on a sea of tranquility, carried away by the ebb and flow of your own breath. The boundaries between reality and imagination began to dissolve, and the world outside melted.

//////

Sometime between now and then, you’d ended up bent over in Eddie’s lap, on a couch that felt just like his couch, but was ambiguous enough that it could’ve been anywhere. Things were slightly blurry around the edges, surreal enough to have you breathless, but real enough that you weren’t questioning your surroundings.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathed as he tilted his head, carefully examining the swelling ass on his lap. Your pussy was dripping, there was a dribble of arousal forming, but in all honesty, he was a little scared to touch you, he didn’t want to hurt you. “I don’t think I’m getting a finger in there, girl. Wow.”

“Luckily, I’m not that fragile,” you responded playfully as you arched your back for him. Eddie bit his lip as this only accentuated the curve of your ass.

“God,” he whispered as he ran a hand up your thigh: he was able to break them apart easily, and he pulled one leg over his lap, wedging you firmly between his legs.

Even though you were already soaking wet, Eddie’s fingers ran over your dripping slit for a moment, as if he were admiring the way your pussy fluttered at his touch in front of him.

God, you could just feel how wet you were, and you bit your lip, anticipating for Eddie to lean forward, and—

Y/N!!!

In an instant you’d jumped awake: you’d sprang to attention without really realizing how you’d done it, scrambling for the lamp. “What’s going on?”

Venom was protruding from your shoulderblade again, bouncing even more than normal, very clearly in extreme distress.

SWEET GIRL. WE ARE RECEIVING VISIONS.

You stifled your yawn with your hand. “V, do you mean, like - like a dream?”

WE ARE RECEIVING VISIONS! RECEIVING VISIONS OF EDDIE EATING YOU! THIS IS VERY SERIOUS! WE NEED TO KEEP YOU SAFE!

Your cheeks instantly warmed, and you froze, scrambling for something to say. “Oh - oh, shit, Venom - that - I’m so sorry, but I really don’t think that was what you think it was.”

HE WAS STRIKING YOU! Venom snapped.

Oh my god. He really saw all of that.

You reached for the water bottle on your nightstand. “V, you seriously don’t need to worry about this. It wasn’t real. It was a dream. Nothing bad will come from it."

Venom was, of course, still hysterical.

IT WAS A PROPHECY! THIS IS BAD!

I wouldn’t mind if it was a prophecy, you thought selfishly before you could stop yourself, but you shoved it down. “Everything’s alright, Venom. Okay? Everything's fine. Let’s just go back to bed.”

I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE FOR CARING ABOUT YOU, Y/N.

You were already sliding back under the blanket. “I’m not asking you to, V. I appreciate it.”

You hesitated.

“Just, uh, next time you’re bonded to Eddie, please don’t tell him about this, okay? It could make him - I don't know, uncomfortable. You know, I - I don’t know how he’d react to the prophecy of him supposedly hurting me, that’s all. I don’t want to worry him.”

(You were hoping wildly that he would accept, and you and Venom would never talk about this again.)

In a move you’d never seen before, Venom raised one gloopy, black tentacle towards you, and recognizing the movement, you extended your pinky towards him. Your pinky and the black goo linked together for a moment, signifying your trust.

Venom grinned, now bouncing significantly less.

I NEVER BREAK A PINKY PROMISE, SWEET GIRL.

You raised your eyebrow.

I TRY NOT TO.

You were much too tired for any of this, you simply turned over to switch off the lamp and finally return to whatever remnants of that dream was left. “Okay then. Goodnight, V.”

//////

It was satisfying to have everything fall back into the natural order once Eddie returned home from Seattle. You returned to your own apartment on the opposite side of town, but of course visited frequently, and Eddie was grateful to be back in a low-stakes environment once more, with a snarky symbiote that would terrify anyone who would try to harm him. Seattle had been thrilling, and he'd recounted the adventure to you several times, but now he was back to something familiar.

The job was done. He was covered for the time being. Freelancing was difficult, but for now, everything would be okay.

In the intervening time, Venom talked about you, a lot. Ever since he met you, he’d taken to mentioning you. But ever since you’d agreed to split custody of the symbiote, and especially since Eddie had disappeared for Seattle, he was talking about you even more.

I AM WORRIED ABOUT Y/N, he said one day.

Eddie was idly clicking through TV channels, watching everything from the news to a police drama to a basketball game zoom past, finding none of them interesting. “Why?”

I DO NOT WANT ANY BAD OMENS TO BE FOLLOWING HER. WE NEED TO KEEP HER SAFE.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, a bit confused.

Venom suddenly popped out of his shoulder, howling.

SHE - SHE HAS -

Before Venom could get any actual words out, Eddie was lifted from the couch as the symbiote rose and slammed his head into the ceiling, denting it severely and sending bits of drywall raining down from the heavens like it was a form of self-punishment.

As quickly as it started, Eddie had been dropped on the couch, red in the face and gasping for air.

Venom hardly noticed: he seemed to be in extreme distress.

I WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO TELL!

Eddie put a hand to his throat, still sweaty and gasping, forcing an inhale. “V - what?”

Venom was beside himself, now.

Y/N IS RECEIVING VISIONS! VISIONS OF YOU!

"Visions? What do you mean, visions of me?" Eddie asked, his concern deepening. Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling half-strangled anymore. His mind was racing, his thoughts a jumble of confusion and worry. "What kind of visions? Is she in danger?" 

He couldn't fathom what could be causing you to have distressing dreams about him.

Right after Seattle? Right after he thought the work was finished?

I DO NOT KNOW. BUT WE MUST PROTECT HER.

Without waiting for further response, Venom oozed off Eddie's shoulder and began slithering around the room, agitated.

Eddie remained on the couch, trying to process this information. "If something's going on, then we need to talk to her, right? Figure out what's happening."

I AGREE. SHE IS PART OF US, AND WE WILL NOT LET ANY HARM BEFALL HER.

He paused, awkwardly.

BUT PLEASE LET HER KNOW I AM SORRY. I WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO SHARE THIS WITH YOU, EDDIE. SHE SAYS SHE DOES NOT WANT TO WORRY YOU. SHE DOES NOT SHARE THE SAME CONCERN I HAVE.

It didn’t matter: Eddie was already grabbing his phone and dialling your number, fingers tapping nervously against his screen.

After a few tense rings, you picked up.

“Hey, Eddie!”

"Hey, we need to talk," Eddie said urgently, glancing at Venom, who was now wrapping himself around the coffee table, sticky and pulsating, in deep despair.

Concern filled your voice. "Is everything okay?"

“Oh, I mean, yeah, right now it is,” he responded wildly, vaguely aiming for nonchalant. “I was just talking to V, you know, and he said something, and - I just kinda wanted to call, y’know, see if you were alright-”

“Oh, I'm fine,” you confirmed, but you still sounded confused. “I don’t have anything going on today, so I’m just spending some time to myself. What did V tell you?”

Across from Eddie, Venom moaned in despair, a mere gooey black glob of depression on his sitting room floor.

SWEET GIRL, I AM SORRY!

“He said you were getting some disturbing visions, and not gonna lie, it kinda freaked me out a bit,” Eddie said sheepishly, hoping you hadn’t heard that. “I just wanted to call and see if you were okay, that’s all. I know this is random. Sorry. Just, with the nature of the last case, y’know, up in Seattle-”

It didn’t take long before he realized he was rambling again about the Seattle case, so he stopped. “Sorry.”

"No, it's okay."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then a sigh.

Of course this was happening.

“Eddie, there’s been a misunderstanding,” you said. “Just, look - do you mind coming over? I’ll explain everything to you once you’re here. This might be better in person.”

Eddie was on his feet in an instant. “Sure, yeah.”

//////

Eddie rushed through the city streets, a mixture of worry and curiosity gnawing at him. Venom was bonded to him again, because he’d rather not think about the consequences of a depressed Venom lingering around the apartment while he was out, and the symbiote seemed to writhe within him with impatience. Or maybe that was just the motorbike rumbling underneath him. Whichever it was, he felt nauseous.

The symbiote had a tendency to jump to conclusions, but Eddie definitely couldn't shake the unease that settled in his gut.

Upon arriving at your apartment, Eddie knocked hastily.

To his surprise, you opened the door with a small smile.

"Hey," you greeted, ushering him inside. "Thanks for coming over."

Eddie nodded, glancing around your living room as if expecting something unusual. Venom, still on edge, clung within him like a sentient black backpack.

He didn’t want to come off as too eager, or too worried, so he just shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and hoped he looked casual despite the storm of questions brewing inside of him.

“So - what’s the deal?”

Deep inside of him, Venom was quivering with fright. As his gooey molecular form had to be closely intertwined with several of his most important organs right now, it was very hard not to notice the sensation.

You winced. “He’s just freaking out about nothing. There’s no bad omens or visions. I just had a dream, and you were in it. Simple stuff. Nothing to worry about.”

“It wasn’t a bad dream?” Eddie said, cautious.

You were definitely closer, now. “Actually, I’d say it was a pretty damn good dream.”

Eddie’s breath was caught in his throat. Out of everything that could’ve happened tonight, he definitely hadn’t been expecting…this.

He was a little confused, honestly. What was going on? The hairs on the back of his neck were raised, but he didn't feel as though he was in danger. On the contrary, he felt quite warm.

“Let me show you?” you offered.

"Okay," he bit out before he was conscious of making the decision, and you were stepping in front of him, and realizing, he closed his eyes on instinct--

The kiss that followed was absolutely dizzying.

There was something so particularly desperate about this: you were kissing, gasping against his mouth and pulling at his jacket, which made the two of you blindly scramble backwards into the apartment, messy and needy. The kiss quickly turned into a battle of control, with Eddie being the one to guide you forward, his hands on your hips. You bit his bottom lip in response, forcing him to open up and then the kiss was all about tongues, wet and sensitive.

You were on the couch when you finally broke apart, gasping.

"Baby," Eddie wheezed, his eyes darting across your face in disbelief, "I - what was that?"

"Is V with you?" you asked, instead of answering the question.

He was apprehensive now. "Yeah?"

"He needs to know I'm not in danger," you whispered, and you leaned forward to kiss him again.

It was much too chaste, and after you pulled away, Eddie was in mute astonishment for a moment.

His voice was scratchy when he spoke. "Disturbing visions, huh?"

You just smiled. "In my dream, we were on a couch, like this."

Eddie still couldn't believe this was happening. The anxiety in his gut on the way over had been completely forgotten now, blurring out of his memory, the future was an impossible thing, there was just this. This was all he had; this was all he wanted. "Were we, now?"

He didn't know what to do, but that didn't seem to matter, you were leading.

You nodded. "It was kinda hot."

"Kinda?" Eddie repeated dumbly, breathless. His voice sounded like a stranger's.

Before he could embarrass himself, Venom's voice rumbled within him, frustrated.

EDDIE, STOP BEING A PUSSY!

Wondering vaguely if this had been a trap all along, Eddie grabbed the nape of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss. Your mouths roved together, and he took the opportunity to pull you over, closer to him. The curve of your bare spine was warm from under your sweater. He kept his hand there, roaming carelessly, drifting up to the clasp of your bra.

You seemed to get what he was going for, and then suddenly you were straddling him, and with you on top of him, he could no longer ignore how interested his dick was in the proceedings.

Slightly, just slightly, you rolled your hips against his clothed crotch, and Eddie choked out a moan.

Oh, fuck. He could feel the sweat materializing and running down his back. This was better than good.

(Venom was definitely going to tease him about this later.)

"What happened next?" Eddie mumbled, looking up at you, his eyes blown black.

You smiled, then crossed your arms and peeled off your sweater. Eddie shifted his grip, holding you by the hips again, and you tossed your sweater elsewhere.

Venom was going absolutely insane from inside him: it felt like he was rumbling somewhere around his large intestine.

DO NOT MESS THIS UP, EDDIE!

Meanwhile, you were, of course, oblivious to the commentary in Eddie's mind.

"I mean," you said, and your voice wasn't smoky like it had been before. It was just curious, with a note of teasing, like this was an everyday conversation. "You ate me out."

He pressed a light kiss to your throat. "Then flip over, baby."

Inside his head, Venom seemed to be having some kind of meltdown. Maybe he had just realized what the dream was. Maybe he was jealous. Either way, he was rambling in Eddie's mind.

SWEET GIRL - SO FRAGILE - SO SWEET - SO DELICIOUS - I NEED TO TASTE -

[maggyme13]

The last Mission (11/11)

AN: HERE WE ARE AGAIN for the last time of this story.

First I own you a reason for the long wait: just after the last chapter, both my sister and best friend became pregnant. Call me crazy, but I feared to jinx it if I continued this story. So I waited until both babies were born and a few months old.

So here we are and I hope you like it.

Wordcount: around 1800

Warnings: mention of misscarriage, asshole general, cursing

Masterlist

TLM-Masterlist

Part 10

Plumbs.

It all started with plumbs and a trip to the market. It ended with them sitting in some prison-cell- interrogation-room- thing.

Obviously it was quickly prepared to keep him and if they would get enough energy they would be able to get out easily.

That much they knew.

What they did not know was what had happened to you. With the last time they had seen you was when Bucky had returned from the market and found Captain America in their hideout.

It was then that the soldier had taken over who tried to lead him away from you to later return to in safety.

Unfortunately it would not come to that: after an hours long chase they were caught and locked away.

Then, two days ago they had been moved and were now locked away in Berlin, Germany. If he was able to trust his knowledge and memories.

At one point well armed men had entered the room that held his glass-cell to give him food and water using a tube for him to drink the soup out.

They were treated better than the soldier had ever been by Hydra when he had been locked away. Apart from the occasional food they were left alone with no word ever spoken to them.

It was irritating and antagonizing.

Just like the rest of the time, they were musing about what might have happened to the two of you, when five well armed men entered. He recognized the patches to belong to the German police special force GSG9. They were followed by a General of the United States and some spec ops guarding him.

“Mr Barnes. This Gentleman wants to ask you a few questions.”, one of the police officers spoke and they nodded in understanding.

Doesn´t look like they like the General much.

“Well, you probably wonder why you are here. Well, we arrested you for the attack on the UN that resulted in a few important people deaths; but unfortunately you have an Alibi. Even though I am not trusting the words of your little whore much. But the Germans do-”

Anger started to burn in their veins. His opponent was speaking about you, that meant he must have met you; spoken to you. And they did not like it one bit.

“- Because of that they are thinking about releasing you. I say it is because they feel guilty. Who wouldn´t after not being able to save a baby.”

A Baby? Their eyebrows rose- First in shock, then confusion.

“Well, I would not in this case. The child of a monster can only turn out as one as well. And it is not like anyone would be loving it, right? You are unable to feel positive things and she will only treat it out of fear.”

Until that moment, Bucky and the Soldier had been coexisting inside the body and mind ; now Bucky stepped back on his own and handed his half of the reigns over to the soldier.

With their combined anger the soldier was able to break out of his restrains within seconds. Much to the surprise of the General and his guards.

Just as quick as the soldier had freed himself, his fist connected with the Generals nose breaking it and the surrounding bones upon impact. His security detail regained their bearings to late and were knocked out quicker than they were able to reach for their guns.

With his new goal in the back of his mind, the soldier made his way over the bodies of the detail (stealing their guns on the way) and dragging the generals body behind him. Now he had to find you and become sure about your condition.

Using one of the stolen guns, he shot the lock to his cell open and stepped outside with the general as his shield.

Outside, he was greeted by the German police officers with their guns drawn and pointing at them.

“Drop him and your weapon!”, the leader ordered once. Twice. Three times in total until he did as he was told. With a loud crack the head of the hostage connected with the floor, cutting the tension for a second.

He knew, unlike their American counterparts, German police officers were taught to shoot as a last resort and as long as he wouldn´t shoot at them, they would not do so as well. So he kept his weapon aimed at them.

“Why don´t we calm down and lower our weapons? If you do that we can arrange for you to speak to Ms (y/n). That is what you want, right? But first you need to lower your weapon and let us take you into custody-”

“SHUT UP!”, the soldier growled, “What did he mean you were not able to save a baby?”

He underlined his question with a kick to the knock out general´s gut.

“Sir, we can talk about-”

“Answer my question.”, he demanded again adjusting his weapon. The soldier knew he was skilled enough to kill or injure at least two of the officers before they would be able to kill him. And he hoped they knew so as well and would disregard their training and answer his demands.

“Due to an incredible unfortunate accident Ms (y/n) had a miscarriage. I am deeply sorry.”

Acting on pure instinct and anger, he was about to take the shot, when the sound of naked feet on tiles caught his attention. And there you were. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw you running towards him. Your hair dripping wet and only a towel around your body.

“I was just taking a shower.”, you told him and a short gush of relieve float down his spine. Taking your appearance as a distraction, the police changed their positions, catching the soldiers attention.

Not wanting to lose you as well, he skillfully moved you behind his body to shield you from any bullet that might come their way.

“Sir, please lower you weapon.”, the leader called out again, “Sir, we have proof that you are innocent of the crime they say you committed. Lower your weapon and we can talk about it. No harm will come to you or Ms (y/n).”

“Soldier.”, you hummed, “They treated me well. Made sure I had food and medical care. Can we take their offer? I am getting cold with only the towel and my wet hair… please?”

Slowly he lowered his weapon and swirled it around so he was griping the muzzle before placing it on the floor and kicking it towards the police.

“If you lie. I will kill every single one of you.”, he promised.

“We know. We will lower our weapons now as well. Ms, do you know the way back to the room you were in first?”

You nodded a yes.

“Then please lead the way, we will be following you. Helmholz has already organized a change of clean clothing for you.”

“Come.”, you whispered and did as told, the soldier hesitantly doing so as well.

Back in ´your´ room, you quickly got changed in the offered clothing and took a seat on the bench again while the soldier was pacing the room like a caged lion.

“I am sorry,”, you finally hummed, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“No. We should be sorry. We failed in protecting you. We caused this. We-”

“To be honest, the General you knocked out caused this whole dilemma.”, Tony Stark piped up from the door, “Easy Iron fist, I am here to offer a peace-treaty. You see. We have evidences that you are in fact innocent of placing that bomb. And that you were controlled by Hydra. We believe you know a lot about them and their plans and so on, and on and on. Because of that I want to offer you a deal: the two of you return with me to the USA and stay at the Avengers-compound where you will get treated for any injuries , be it mentally or physically, and be rehabilitated as much as possible. And with the two of you, I don´t mean Mr Split Personality here, but the two people staring at me right now.”

“Thank you but no thank you. I would rather end up in Jail than to live in the same house as the two people who got me into this situation in the first place.”, you growled, having no desire to have to see Captain spangled latex and the black bitch more than needed.

“Understandable. I am sure we can find a solution to that problem. But can I say that at Steven felt horrible and was trying to find you ever since?”

“Doesn´t change the fact that they made me go to that heli-carrier and didn´t allow me to get my ass out of there once they had what they wanted.”

The billionaire had nothing to answer to that.

“She decides.”, the soldier rumbled and you sighted.

“The compound is huge, I am sure I can find an area suiting your demands. FRIDAY, can you check for me?”

“There three apartments that are at the far east and north of the compound that have their own entrances and can be locked off the rest of the compound.”

“Thank you. FRIDAY.”

“My pleasure Boss.”

“Your call Ms. I will personally make sure that neither of the two will bother you. I will even make sure you have a job. You were a secretary before right? I know someone who could need a new one.”

“Fine.”- Back into lock- down I guess. Not that I am already used to it by now. And it really would be best for Bucky, and the soldier as well. Why did I had to take that damn job in the first place. Screw you benefits!

“Awesome. I will get everything ready and we will depart as soon as possible. Why don´t you order food on my tab.” And with that he was gone.

______

Three month had gone by since then and you had started to feel comfortable in the apartment you were living in now. There had been a small , very small funeral for your dead boy, where only the Soldier/ Bucky had been present and Wanda, who turned out to become a wonderful friend of yours.

Once you crossed path with the Black widow and to the surprise of the two of you, you broke her nose with a punch to the face. Both of you were shocked, but you could not see her reaction, because as soon as your fist had connected with her nose, the soldier had taken over control, thrown you over his shoulder and walked away into a different direction than you first had been on. Captain America was different, Wanda had shown you proof that he had really been trying, with an endless number  of sleepless nights to find you, and so you had had decided to at least give him a chance.

Now only time would tell your future and what it brought for you. One thing you new though. I would not be boring.

AN 2.0: 

Thank you all for reading :)

~MaggY

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Last Mission:

@eyesfixedonthesun22 @sherrybaby14 @lazilysuperbbucky  @lizblinder @queen-aerie @demonlover87 @simplyhemmings-blog  @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @lulasdaughter @lilly-evans-and-the-kpop ​ @past-perfect-future-tense

[hazzabeeforlou]

I don’t understand one thing though—you said the kid has been used for 4 years “no matter what you believe is the truth.” But if a person chooses to believe the official version of events, then he hasn’t been used at all. He’s just a kid to a single mom with a famous dad who lives far away so her parents help her raise him.

Okay this is the last time I’m addresssing this, so buckle up. No other celebrity child is papped, posted, and pasted in articles like he was when first born. In fact they have their faces blurred (like D and E did) and perhaps a reveal in vogue or something idk. They live lives like Bear Payne (whether you believe that’s a thing or not) where their feet are posted and that’s IT. They don’t have geo-tagged locations, they aren’t exposed to crowds during a pandemic, they aren’t used for social media likes by literally every member of their extended family, they have normal custody agreements with their split parents, and they most especially don’t need to be farmed off to grandma and grandpa when single mom goes off to party (and date and set herself on fire whilst high on the Holy Spirit who knows) when an entire other side of their family exists which is ridiculously rich. Take Chrissy T for instance; she’s a mommy blogger but there’s not this level of obsession about her adorable kids. No fan pages or scrap books or EDITS that her mom reposts from FANS? And I guarantee she doesn’t go around encouraging tweets about fans wanting to fuck her kid when they grow up. I just don’t even have words for that one. If F is B and Louis’ kid, god I’m sorry for him. His family has displayed truly horrible views and been incredibly unsafe during a pandemic, and I’d literally never forgive Louis for not scooping that precious child back home with him, getting a normal custody arrangement, and spoiling him and loving him with the same vigor he does to LITERALLY EVERY OTHER CHILD HE COMES IN CONTACT WITH. I would. Truly. Never forgive Louis. So when I say he’s been used for four years I mean it. It’s obvious the C’s love and adore him and that’s great, I mean love is really most of what a kid needs, but some safety and common sense and fucking RESPONSIBILY would have been really really nice for the past over a thousand days.

[illfoandillfie]

A6 - “You want to be with him/her/them, don’t you?” + A49 - “I can’t believe what you’ve done.” + C48 - “Because I care about you!” Part two where maybe a few weeks after they break up Reader finds out she’s pregnant but Roger’s already dating the groupie (but he’s not very happy about being with her)

Oh boy it’s angst city!! Thanks so much for this request!

Original blurb

1000 Follower Celebration

~~~

Calling Roger was nerve wracking to say the least. For one thing you’d barely spoken since he’d told you about the girl he’d knocked up while on tour and you’d kicked him out. There was maybe one or two conversations after that but they'd been short and terse and about when he could come by to pick up his left behind things. For another you were about to confess to being pregnant with his child and you weren’t sure how he was going to react. You weren’t even really sure how you wanted him to react. There was still anger there, and a lot of hurt. You’d loved him with every fibre of your being and he’d thrown it in your face. But that love was hard to completely cut away and part of you missed him. And then on top of all of that confusion and mess there was a child. A baby you didn't quite know what to think about. You and Roger had talked about kids, more than once, and though he desperately wanted to be a dad you’d never been sure enough to agree. Although you’d been coming round to it before he’d gone and broke your heart. It had seemed a blessing that you’d not had a kid to worry about when you split. No custody arrangements to discuss, one less thing tying you to him. But now even that small silver lining was gone.

“Hello?”

Your voice caught in your throat when you heard him and it took all your willpower not to hang up in his ear, “Roger, hi, it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N?” He sounded genuinely shocked to hear from you, “What’s this about?”

“I um...” you couldn’t do it, you couldn’t just drop it on him over the phone, “Can we meet? Your place maybe?”

“Uh how about yours? My place is.....not gonna work,”

“Oh yeah, sure,” you weren’t sure what he could have happening that would render his house off limits but there was some noise behind him, someone talking, perhaps he had some work being done? “Whenever you can get here then.”

“Okay, I’ll um see you a bit later then.”

You hung up quickly, fighting back the urge to throw up. Could you handle seeing him? Would it be any easier to tell him the news when he was standing in front of you?  

You didn’t have to wait long to find out. Roger arrived at your house within the hour, the sound of his car recognisable from half a street away. You waited for the doorbell to ring, twisting your fingers together as your stomach churned. With a final steadying breath you opened the door and found yourself face to face with him. Automatically, without really wanting to, you trailed your eyes over his face, the face you knew so well, looking for anything different. He was still the same although he looked exhausted. But he smiled when he saw you and you were struck by how nice it was to see him again.  

“Come in,” you said softly, stepping out of his way and closing the door behind you, “do you want a tea or a coffee or something? Water? Juice?”

“Water’s fine, thanks,”

You led him into the kitchen even though he knew the way, let him take a seat at the dining table, tried not to remember the hundreds of times you’d sat there together. Pouring the water from the jug you kept in the fridge kept your hands busy as you tried to work out what to say.  

“How come you couldn’t talk on the phone?”

“Umm,”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad you called but I wasn’t expecting it,”

“Neither was I. Look, Rog-Roger,” you stumbled over his name, unsure how familiarly to adress him, “something’s happened. I-I'm pregnant. And it’s yours,”

Roger stopped with his glass of water halfway to his lips and then put it down again, “What? How can- I mean we haven’t... not since the day before I left on tour.”

“Yeah,”

“When did you find out?”

“Yesterday.”

“But we- that night was a month and a half ago.”

“Sue me I’m not great at tracking my period. And it’s not like I haven’t been a bit distracted lately putting my life back together after you-” you sighed, “If you want proof I can pull the test out of the garbage.”

Roger caught your arm as you made to stand, touching you only as long as it took for you to sit down again and then withdrawing his hand, “That’s not what I meant. Just took me by surprise.”

“Me too. Anyway, congrats you’re going to be a father. Again.”

“Does that mean you’re keeping it?”

“Maybe. Yes. I think.”

“I didn’t think you wanted...”

“I was coming round to the idea before you left. Figured we’d talk about it once you were back but... y’know. Is that why you did it? Did you sleep with her to get back at me for not giving you a kid sooner?”

“God no. Y/N, how could you think that?”

“Well I have to think something. And somehow it being an accident seems worse. Did you not care enough about me to use a condom?” You could feel tears beginning to form though you weren’t sure if they were from sadness or anger, “Forget it. It’s done, I don’t want to know.”

“Why did you call? Why did you even want to tell me about the baby when you clearly still hate me.”

You shrugged, “It seemed like the right thing to do. And I don’t hate you. I hate what you did but I can’t hate you as much as I want to. We were happy before. Maybe part of me still wishes we were. And besides, if I do keep it, I don’t necessarily want the kid to grow up not knowing its dad. If you’d still like to be involved that is.”

“Let’s run off together,” Roger said suddenly, grabbing your hand, “We can move away, somewhere people won’t find us. The French countryside or something. We can find a cottage and set up a home for our baby and I’ll spend every moment of every day making up for what I did. We could just leave now. Pack what we need and go. The boys’d be pissed but I’l write to them and tell them where to find us. And your family too. C’mon, let’s just escape together.”

“Rog,” part of you wanted to laugh, “that doesn’t sound like you.”

“Yeah maybe,” He sighed and ran his hands over his face before his shoulders slumped and his whole body sagged under whatever weight he was carrying.

“What did you mean escape?” 

“I um, I did something fucking stupid after you kicked me out.” He paused and looked over at your, the very air crackling between you as you waited for his next bombshell, “I called her. The chick I knocked up in America. She’s living at my place for now. Guess I didn’t expect her to come when I offered but she did.”

You felt a cold fist clench around your heart, “Are you fucking kidding me? It only took you a day to replace me?”

“It’s not like that. I was pissed off and upset. Acted without thinking.”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

He made a noncommittal noise as he shrugged, “She certainly thinks so. I wish she’d just leave or that I could. I came close to telling her to fuck off the other day but I felt too horrible to actually say it. She’s pregnant and in a foreign country and I’ve said I’ll help support her so what else am I meant to do? It’s not how I wanted to become a dad. Always pictured it with you.”

“Jesus Christ Roger.”

“I know. I fucked everything up so much. I’d give anything to be raising your baby instead. Run away with me Y/N.”

[rinthehufflepuff]

Agent M. pt 5

Parings: Clintasha x Reader

Summary: You’ve been on the run for four years, never staying in one place too long, until you stumble across an abandoned house that seems the perfect place to bunker down in for the winter.  Just as you’re getting comfortable, however, and the seasons start to change, the homeowners appear and they are far different from anything you could have expected.  

Warnings: Language, divorce, negative self thoughts/image, descriptions of abuse, talk of suicide, allusions to rape/non-con (not even a full sentence, not graphic at all), mentions of cheating

Word Count: 1709

Series Masterlist

You had met James in sixth grade - it had been the very first day and you had gotten lost in the new building and arrived late to class.  He was the only one who didn’t snicker when you crept in and squeaked out an apology to the teacher.  He was in four of your seven classes and in each one he waited by the door for you after that first class, he said that if you were going to be late then he would do it with you.  He was your first friend in that school and for a long time your only friend at all.  

Middle school had been hard for you, hard for everyone really with all the hormones flying around, but you were in a bad place.  Your parents had split after years of screaming matches and slamming doors and late, alcohol-infused nights because of you and your special mutation.  You had this ability to work with mechanics, no matter how complex.  If you could get your hands on them, you could do just about anything.  Your father loved you for it, the mutation made you invaluable to him and his business and it gave the two of you something to bond over.  Your mother, though, hated that you were different.  She couldn't stand that you were special or different and that you liked it - so rather than attempt joint custody, your mother told you just what she thought of what you could do and left you broken for your father to try and fix.  You were a freak, you had heard it before, but having your mother say it shattered any pride you had in your abilities.  James was there to pick up the pieces.  

It didn't help that you felt like a freak.  None of the other girls in your school volunteered to take robotics, engineering, or workshop.  The few that were in those classes did what they could to stay clean and avoid getting into the thick of the action, whereas you were always dirty and working on something.  Good grades were a breeze despite the accelerated learning pace and double-advanced classes you were placed in despite your protests.  You stuck out like a sore thumb, but James never tried to compare you to the other girls.

James treated you like any of his other friends, of which he had many.  You worked on homework together, joked during classes, and were almost always attached at the hip between classes.  To him, you were just one of the guys.  Sure he was a bit rough, and you were always finding bruises from where he had punched you or jabbed his fingers into your sides, but he did that with all his guy friends.  It was normal.

When your school announced that they were starting a high school, you nearly cried.  You didn’t know if you could handle a big public school after three years of the relatively small private school you had grown used to.  Sure they would only take twenty students from your grade, but you were guaranteed a spot between your high scores and teachers’ recommendations to keep you.  James wasn’t guaranteed a spot though, and that terrified you.  Desperate to not lose your best friend, you took to tutoring sessions and helping with papers and projects instead of just regular homework.  You spent months helping boost his grades and getting him to take tests to get into advanced programs in other schools to entice your own school to keep him, though it meant less time at your father’s shop and helping run his business - something you had always done because of your innate ability to work with mechanics and your love for your father.  Losing time working was acceptable, though, as long as you got to keep your best friend.

You clung to him in high school, relieved to have him in six of your seven classes in the first two years.  The bruises were necessary now.  If you didn’t have them, you didn't have him.  You didn’t mind the trade-off.  James was everything.  Then came dual enrollment with the local college and you spent nearly every waking moment making sure James wouldn’t fail out and leave you alone.  Your course load was double anyone else's at your school, but you didn’t mind.  How could you when it meant that you were able to keep him around?  You needed him.  And if the bruises accompanied snide remarks about your weight and the cuts on your arms and legs because your mind was a maze of pitfalls and shitty mental health you didn't mind.  You probably deserved it anyway.  It would explain why no one else would be your friend.

Every college you applied to received two applications - one for you and one for James.  Why would you go to a college, an unknown place with strange people, without your, now,  boyfriend?  Stanford University had accepted both of you.  You flew through with flying colors, but James, no matter how much time and effort you put into helping him - writing papers, stressing over projects, emailing professors and advisors, - flunked out.  You got a job to pay for the apartment since he couldn’t live on campus anymore.  He stuck with you as you continued school and he started his own business, though he hated that you couldn’t spend more time with him.  You deserved the bruises and cuts.  Deserved the yelling and kicking because you were a terrible girlfriend.  You never did finish the doctorate in electrical engineering, why would you when you had already done so much and disappointed James so severely.  One doctorate and a master’s was more than enough, unnecessary even.  Why did you need them when you could naturally control and manipulate anything mechanical.  It was a good thing you could pay for those degrees because James shouldn’t have to pay for something so wasteful.

You lost your job.  They didn’t want you anymore, they must have realized you weren’t worth much to them.  James’s business, though, took off.  Without school or your job in the way, you were able to spend all your time focusing on James and helping his business.  You had to devote all your time pleasing him - if you didn't he would get angry, his friends would get angry, and you would be punished.  Beatings, being left in the walk-in freezer surrounded by bags you didn’t want to look in and the smell of rotting flesh, and starvation became your standard.  Touches you didn't want, clothes you hated because they made you feel cheap and exposed, and long nights with strange men fractured you further until you couldn’t keep the will to keep living as strong as you once had.  Except, you didn't want to die...you just wanted to get out.  To get as far away as you could and live a little.

Once, in seventh grade, you had seen Heathers.  The movie was seriously fucked up, you hated it, but the girls you were watching it with, in an attempt to be accepted, thought the movie was brilliant.  It turned out to have its uses.

You faked your suicide on your anniversary.  The dining room was on the first floor and James was supposed to meet you there when he was finished with work, so you snatched the opportunity like the salvation it was.  When the table was set and you had arranged everything in the way you knew he would like it, you climbed onto the table.  Secure in your plan, you tied the thin rope just under your bust so it wouldn’t be obvious under the dress you wore and could be hidden by your long hair where it attached to the thicker rope you looped around your neck before you jumped and looped the other end around the chandelier and...dangled.  For over an hour.  James didn't bother to cut you down when he stumbled in, half-drunk with lipstick smeared on his neck and his belt still undone.  You had listened as he cursed and yelled and raged on about how you made everything harder than it needed to be.  About how good he had been to you, putting up with your mental problems and freaky abilities when even your mother thought you weren’t worth being around.  How you should have been kissing his feet for the attention he gave you and thanking his friends for not being so disgusted that they couldn’t enjoy you.  Now you were going to make him look bad to his partners, make him look like a fool for not being able to keep his bitch in line.  

And then he’d left you there, muttering about how he would have to find someone to get you down because he couldn’t be bothered.

Once the door had closed, and you were sure you were alone, you had cut the rope and dropped to the table as quietly as you could, your heart in your throat.  Then you had climbed out the window, snuck to the garden where you had hidden a bag with what you thought you would need and ran.  

James had been looking for you ever since.  You knew because you collided in Alabama nearly two months later while you were trying to get to your father.  He’d nearly killed you then, only failing because you managed to run into heavy traffic and hitch a ride with a truck driver who thought you were just backpacking across the country.

That had been the last time you had seen James.  You knew he had to still be looking, it was why you stuck to the woods and abandoned buildings like you had thought Clint’s house had been.  You hadn’t trusted anyone since James, how could you when everything had gone so horribly?  

But then you met Natasha and Clint.  Yes, those first few days had been terrifying, and you had nearly run in the middle of the night more than once because Clint looked so much like James that at first, all you saw was the man that had betrayed you.  Slowly, though, you began to trust them both.  You just had to hope they wouldn’t turn on you too.

[ericcclaw]

The Importance of Child Custody Attorney In Family Law Cases

A child custody attorney is a family lawyer specializing in dealing with conflicts and issues involving the child/children of a couple going through a difficult marriage. Usually, this type of attorney is needed for consultation or guidance where both parents are in conflict with the custody of their child or children. This can happen before a divorce, during and after a divorce, or even after an unmarried couple splits. The lawyer is expected to handle the legal procedures concerning the child- custodial rights and other issues. The tough thing about being a child custody attorney is you have to hammer out the details between the battling parents, one of whom will get the custodial rights over the child. This could be quite taxing because aside from the issue being too delicate; it could be very emotional too. If you are a parent, you can get the picture of how horrible the proceeding could be for both adults and the child. As a lawyer, witnessing and controlling the situation to some extent could be emotionally draining. Usually, it is decided whether custodial rights would be sole custody, joint, or legal. The child custody attorney is responsible for mediating and helping the parents decide what kind of custody they should fight for and how they should go about it. Visitation rights and plans are also arranged and set by the child custody attorney. A visitation plan often goes such as - a child stays with one parent for the whole week and then stays with the other over the weekends (or every other weekend). If parents want to appeal or revise the plan so that the setup will suit them better, the attorney is expected to give advice again and rearrange the existing schedule accordingly. If you'd like an experienced custody lawyer who truly understands the burden, challenges, and what it demands to fight for your rights and privileges in child custody disputes. Look no further than the office of Mr. Eric Nakasu, the leading Irvine child custody attorney. You can also find out how he has helped

people in related cases like your own, how he can benefit you, and the right measures to build a good case. Call Mr. Nakasu at 1~(714)-916-9800 for a free initial discussion.

[audreysl0ve]

Sneak Peek: Signed, Sealed Delivered prequel

the-notsoevil-queen

replied to your post

“I have so many feelings about your goddamn advent fic, Lisa. I could…”

even if she isn’t I AM, GIMME GIMME GIMME.

Alright.  For you and @x-wishesonfallenstars-x Here’s a sneaky peek.  I’ve written SO  MANY WORDS it’s so sad lol.  this is a small part of what I have. 

“Robin, we have to move.” She says, calmly, but her voice is on the edge of anger and frustration.  She’s ready to fight for this, and it’s a shame, because this is a topic where he feels quite strongly, too.

“One idiot blocks the driveway and suddenly this is an uninhabitable living environment,” he groans, “be more dramatic.”

“It’s not just that and you know it.” Regina says, an eyebrow raised, “Roland has no space here, he has no backyard.  The neighborhood is changing, it’s not for children anymore—”

“Oh, come on. Some college kids are smoking pot, it’s hardly a fucking gang territory.  And you know how rare it is for that to happen, anyway.” He points out.

“Why can’t we just move to where Roland has a yard, and —”

“He has a park,” he argues, “one where a lot of children can play.  I guess the children are ethnic, and from different income levels, and maybe that is a problem for you, but…”  The words sound as bitter and sour as they taste.

“Oh, don’t give me that shit,” Regina says with a roll of her eyes, “I don’t have a problem with the other children, I have a problem with the fact a group of college kids don’t mesh well with families.  They park in front of driveways. They smoke pot in parks and on the street, they are up late, they get noise complaints, and it’s simply not a good environment for Roland.”

“Oh please, this could be the perfect neighborhood and you’d want to move.  I know what this is about, Regina.  It’s about moving him to a pretty little sheltered suburb like your mother would want, and then we could send him off to some prestigious preschool made for kings, or god knows what, and then before we know it he’ll be 18 and have absolutely no idea what the real world is like.”

“I want him to have his best shot.” She argues again (this is a tired refrain).  “Prep schools and nice homes are apart of that.”

“Oh I’m familiar with that argument,” Robin scoffs, “it is the exact one my father made to get my mother to agree to shipping me off to England, and we all know how that turned out.  You act like I’ve been in public school in America my whole life, you forget I’m familiar with this world you are so enchanted with.  Yes, the prep school and the royal fucking neighborhood, that was worth all the pain and abuse I had to suffer, right?  I should appreciate those years more than the years I spent free from all of that?”

“You had a rough time because your father was a mean, abusive addict, your living and school situation had nothing to do with it.  Infact i’m betting it was the only bright spot,” Regina points out, “Roland shouldn’t have the same experience as you unless you are worried you are going to wake up and become Robert.”

Robins teeth clench, hands form into fists, how dare she imply that he could ever become his horrible father?  “The point is if  it hadn’t have been for this shotty prep school nonsense i would have been sheltered from all of that, sure we had little money and the school I attended didn’t have skiing vacations or spring break trips to Paris, but my life when I was removed from that world was so much better.”

“And think of how much better it would be if you had proper education and a stable family.” she shoots back, “let’s not blame our fucked up childhoods on the one thing our parents did right.”

He’s angry, annoyed and just done with this conversation.  He’s not losing this argument, though, not when the idea of Roland in school with snobby, uptight entitled brats physically revolts him.

“I’m not going to cave on this, Regina,” Robin says sternly, “this is it.  We stay in the city.  We’re not bubble wrapping our child in suburban bullshit.”

“You cannot just put your foot down on this issue and refuse to hear any reason,” Regina argues, “I’m not caving either, and I know very well where staying in this environment will lead, and you do as well.  I’m not about to apologize for protecting Roland from this—”

“God, is this Cora I’m speaking to?  You know, I married you hoping you had learned enough from living with Cora to never turn into her, but from this light you are the spitting image of her.  You’re just a little spoiled brat who had everything handed to her and wants to do the same to our son.  It didn’t make you happy, Regina, and it won’t make Roland happy either.  You’re just going to make him miserable.”

He rushes towards her, yelling, encroaching just a bit in her face. He’s gone too far, and he realizes it, because her face falls for a split second, shatters into a pained expression before the cloak of protectiveness goes back up, and her face settles into that blank, heartless expression.

“What are you going to do to me, Robin?” she asks.  She’s not scared, she’s taunting him, pushing at that weak spot.  “You just charged at me like a bull, your hands are in fists already.  Speaking of people turning into their parents, god, you’re one split second away from— ”

“I would never hurt you and you know it!” he growls.

“I don’t know that.  I don’t know anything anymore.  Not when you’ve pushed into my space like this, I wonder if I have to worry about you with Roland.”

“Fucking take it back” he orders, knowing what she’s implying.  This has officially gone too far.  He had no idea how it got to here, how it went from zero to twenty, but they are stubborn, competitive people, and it seems they’re now competing on who can hurt who the most right now.

“I can’t,” she says flatly, “Because i don’t even recognize you anymore.  I don’t know if I even trust you anymore, I don’t know if I even love you anymore.”

The words cut and gnaw at him, but he’s stubborn and angry and not about to lose this battle. “I’m glad you finally said it,” he snarls, “the woman I loved left a long time ago, and I have been trying to see her again, but I can’t.  I’m through pretending.  I don’t love you anymore either.“

There’s a few seconds where he is eager to see pain in her eyes, hoping she hurts as badly as he is.

“Do you mean that?” she asks.  Her voice doesn’t falter, doesn’t crack.  She’s not angry anymore, she’s reached this eery calm state that can scare him at times.

“Yes,” he answers, anger still coursing through his veins, vibrating through his nerves, buzzing and screaming for him to hide his wounds and strike back in full force.

She sighs and nods her head.  “Me too.”  She gets out coffee mugs - one ceramic and one “to-go” cup with a lid.  And then she pours them silently, adding cream and sugar, while he wonders what her next move is.

“Coffee just the way you like it.  Consider it my parting gift to you.  Now leave.”

“What?” he asks, because another rule she had was they never leave each other in the middle of a fight, no going to bed angry, no running off in anger.

“These last few months have been so difficult, and you know why?  Because we’re living together but neither of us are in love anymore.  And I know you’re probably still here because you think it’s best for Roland.  But I’ve lived that, and it can actually be worse, Robin. It’s easier for Roland and for us both if we just move on.”

He’s bitter and he’s angry and behaving like a childish moron when he mutters “If you hate this house so much, why aren’t you the one leaving?” He doesn’t quite intend her to hear but when he looks up, it’s clear his words have been heard.  And she looks…well, hurt, and a bit tense.  “Regina…”

“You’re right,” she says, dismissing his half-hearted apology with a wave of her hand, “I should be the one to leave. But I’m the one who gets Roland ready every morning, and I thought I should be with him now.   Plus you work tomorrow and I’m home with Roland, so it seemed easier.  But it’s fine, I can wake him up now and—”

“No, don’t,” he grumbles, “you’re right.  I’ll leave.”

She doesn’t try to stop him, not even when he gathers an overnight bag and a garment bag and places a generous amount of clothing in there.  He’s waiting for her to cave, to realize he’s serious about this, to tell him she didn’t mean it, to apologize and take him back.  But she doesn’t do anything but pop an Excedrin and draw herself a bath.

How the fuck did it get like this?

He waits for her to call the entire drive to Killian’s.  He waits up for her call while he and Killian watch Die Hard and drink beer.

He’s waiting for her to call and tell him to come home until the sun comes up.

Regina never calls.  Instead she sends a text with a very fair, even split custody arrangement for Roland.  Oh, he wishes it were vindictive, just a bit petty, he wishes, then he could say she wrote it in anger, that things would blow over.

But it’s perfectly civil.  

And when he reads the text, he realizes that maybe this wasn’t just a fight filled with angry words she didn’t mean.

[lilianding3910-blog]

What Occurs If The Lover Dies Before The Divorce Finalises

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[illfoandillfie]

A sequel to A12+A32 with Brian where maybe they didn’t actually break up and she stays with him even though he’s married and maybe he actually leaves his wife for her?

A12 + A32 Blurb

1000 Follower Celebration

~~~

After the fight Brian had left quickly, slamming the door behind him, tyres screeching as he took off, leaving you standing in the same spot you’d confronted him. You don’t know how long you stood there, trying to process everything. The rest of the day was spent in a daze. It was like so much had happened that you couldn’t take it all in, couldn’t feel anything. You wanted to cry or scream or throw things but didn’t have the energy. Everything was just numb as you went about your day. Until you were lying in bed that night and it all hit in a big rush. Your sleep was fitful and disjointed. An hour here, half an hour there, snatched between dreams of Brian and bouts of crying.  

When you did push yourself out of bed you went straight for your phone, calling up your friend Jasmine. You’d spent countless nights with her, discussing your relationships, lamenting lost loves or celebrating newfound singledom. She knew all about Brian already, so if anyone was going to share your heartbreak at the revelation of his family, it would be her. She arrived within ten minutes, pulling you into a hug the moment she saw your puffy eyes. You told her everything – the ring, the wife, the kids. She got every detail of the fight you’d had, listening carefully, never interrupting. And then you told her the worst part of it. Worse than the insincere apology, or the way he’d spat his parting line before disappearing out the door. Worse than all of that was the fact that you still loved him, missed him, wanted him back.  

“Maybe you’re being too harsh on him,” Jasmine suggested, “yes, what he did was shitty and he should have been more upfront about his situation but from the sound of things he isn’t happy at home. But he was happy with you. And you were happy with him.”

You were stunned, “So you think I should forgive him? He’s cheating on his wife, abandoning his kids. And he’s made me an accomplice to it all. And I should forgive him?”

“Not necessarily. I just think you should talk to him properly about it. The fight happened because you were both caught up in the emotion of it all. You were taken by surprise and you lashed out. I think you both probably said some things you didn’t mean. ANd he certainly didn’t get a chance to explain himself.”

“I guess,”

“Look just, I don’t know, meet him for coffee or something. Do it in public if you want. But you’re going to find it very hard to get closure or move on if you don’t know the full story. Give him a chance to explain, tell him why you feel so sick about it. Either he’ll have more to say or he won’t but however the conversation goes, you’ll know what you need to do.”

“I’ll think about it,”

You did think about it. Nearly constantly. You picked up the phone, got half way through dialling his number and then hung up more times than you could count. Part of you wanted to hear him out, see him again. But there was also the fear that he wouldn’t have anything else to say, that nothing would change how horrid you felt about the whole mess, that you were just setting yourself up for more heartbreak. The decision was made for you though a few days later when Brian called.  

“Hi,” his voice sounded odd. A little strained, like he was making an effort to stay calm, “I know you don’t want to see me and I’m sorry for calling but I’ve left a few things at your place. Wanted to know if I could pick them up sometime,”

“Oh, umm,”

“I’m happy to come past when you aren’t home, if you just leave them outside the back door or something.”

“I can do that. Or...” your heart was hammering in your chest but you knew what you wanted, hearing his voice wasn’t enough, “maybe you could stay for a coffee?”

“Coffee? Are you sure?”

“Yes. I feel bad about how things ended and I don’t think I was very fare to you,”

“I deserved it. I shouldn’t have...”

“You shouldn’t have, no, but I’d still like to talk about it. If you’re okay with that?”

“Are you free this afternoon? I can come by around three,”

“Three works for me,”

“Okay, I’ll see you then,”

If you’d been nervous to call it was nothing to how nervous you felt waiting for him to arrive. The clock moved so slowly you were sure it was broken. Everything felt too still and quiet, the calm before a storm, the tapping of your nails against whatever surface was in easy reach the only break. His knock on the door startled you, making you freeze on the spot until he knocked a second time and you gathered yourself together enough to answer.

“Hi,” he said softly, a small, nervous smile playing on his lips when he saw you.

“Hi, come in,” you stood back from the door to let him past, “umm, d’you want tea or coffee?”

“Tea’s fine, thank you,”

With a nod you led him to the kitchen. He knew the way, knew where you kept the tea bags and cups, but he followed you as if he didn’t. Neither of you spoke again until the tea was set in front of you at the kitchen table. Your fingers began tapping against the table top again and you wished your hands were still busy with the tea.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Brian eventually asked.

“Why, Bri? Why’d you lie to me?”

“I should have told you sooner, I know. The thing was that when we started seeing each other I didn’t think it would last that long,”

“So you really thought I was gonna be a one-night stand?”

“Yeah I did. Maybe a few nights at most. I thought anything more than that would be too complicated with everything else. But then I just kept wanting to see you and...”

“And what?”

He frowned a little as he contemplated what to say, “I am not a brave man, Y/N. I’m a coward. I’ve been afraid of ending things for good with my wife. We should have called it quits years ago, before the kids, but she’s stubborn and I’m weak and I guess I wanted to believe things could be fixed. That maybe kids would help fix them. And then you came along and took me completely by surprise. After we’d been seeing each other for a couple of weeks I knew I should tell you about it all. But I was afraid that as soon as you knew you’d leave and I was too much of a coward to go through with it. So I decided to never tell you. I went home and talked to my wife and we came to a decision to break up but it was hard. There were the kids to think of, one not even born yet. There were assets to split, a house to sell, arrangements to make. Plus, the extra pressure from the press potentially getting a hold of the story. It was a lot and I was in the process of working everything out when you found my ring.”

“I don’t think it’s weak to want to fix things,” you said softly, holding your cup tight, “But you understand why I was so upset right?”

“I know, it was horrible what I did and I regret all of it, not being straight with you. I deserved a lot worse than what you gave me. You should’ve hit me or something.”

“Did you mean what you said about seeing a future with me?”

“I did. I know my life is a mess at the moment but being apart from you has been so hard. I guess I thought things would work out. The divorce would go through and then we could have moved in together and... but that’s not realistic is it?”

“I don’t know Brian. The day I found out I was completely crushed. I never wanted to see you again. I thought if I did it’d just end in more screaming and crying. But I’ve missed you so much. All I’ve thought about since you left was trying to find a solution for it all. I called Jas over to try and talk some sense into me and she told me to give you a chance to explain.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“Depends. What’s happening between you and your wife?”

“We had a meeting with our lawyers yesterday, going over the paperwork and stuff. We’ve had to make custody arrangements for when I can see the kids and the house hasn’t sold yet but it’s mostly finalised.”

“If, and it’s a big if, but if we did work things out, how would the custody arrangements work?”

“You wouldn’t have to be their step mum or anything. They’ll mostly be staying with their mum, at least until they’re a little older. But I’ll go round and visit them every week. I wouldn’t ask you to be involved with them at all.”

You nodded, “that makes sense. And there’s no other big earth shattering secrets you’re keeping? No secret family in another country?”

,”No, that’s it,” Brian looked at you, his eyes glued to your face like he ran the risk of losing you again just by blinking.  

You sighed and reached your hand out to lay over his, “I really really missed you.”

[thehillneedstowrite]

I never understood why I wasn’t allowed to sleep in on Saturdays.

Normally, when one is five years old, wake-up times would vary on Saturday mornings, and a slow getting out of bed would be followed by what was called Saturday morning cartoons. The whole idea never made much sense to me, why would anyone have time to watch TV if everyone had school on Saturday?

I was two years old when I started my Saturday German classes. My parents, upon deciding that becoming bilingual would be the best way to spend my time on Saturdays, enrolled me in a class with the Deutsche Sprachshule (translation: German language school) and had me awake at 7.00 every Saturday for me to finish homework, conjugate some verbs and name objects around the house in German as well as their articles before the descent to hell began.

Of all things, there was nothing I hated more than the 15-minute drive to German school every Saturday. From the age of two up to the age of sixteen, I would sit in my mum’s average-size Toyota with nylon seats, waiting for her to park in the main entrance of some massive building and we would walk in together, hand-in-hand, as though I was going to forget where my imminent death had lain.

The cold tiled floor and the open, large foyer that lead into the school did not provide me the atmosphere of learning that one could define as comfortable. The foyer, splitting into three hallways, smelt in the summer of bleach and lemon cleaning product and was only lit by the large windows that encompassed the door. In the winter, there was little light and the smell of damp shoes would fill the space- one would find it preferable to hold one’s breath when walking in. To the left was the only hallway that – to my knowledge – actually existed in this large rectangle of a place that, when I learned to read, was called “Winston Churchill High School.” Not understanding what any of those words meant altogether, I continued my lessons, agitated by the smallest of things: pens tapping on desks, kids who read out loud, and worst of all: people who rubbed the square, multi-coloured puzzle mats that you see in kindergarten classes together to create static, which would magically attract dirt for no reason whatsoever.

The floors often felt grimy and were just as cold as one would imagine the temperature outside to be in the middle of January. The desks were oddly attached to their chairs which often had baskets underneath (“They are for the children who attend class here over the week” my first grade teacher, frau Schertzinger [translation: love singer] explained). Still confused by the fact that there were people who would willingly go here during the week (I could barely survive one day), I stood up from my place on the floor and went over to the windows. It had started to snow in mid-November that year, and I was only thinking about the hot chocolate I would get when I got home.

That’s not to say that the lessons hadn’t paid off.

By the time I entered kindergarten, I was reading in both German and English, and, to the delight of my mum and the fear of my father, preferred to converse and write in German.

If German school was confusing, the concept of Kindergarten was like rocket science. “Why am I going this way?” I would ask my father as we waited for the sun-coloured school bus to pick me up in the morning.

He asked me to repeat the question, in English this time.

I kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t important anyway.

Walking down the short and narrow corridors of yet another school, the only thing that shared any resemblance to my weekend hell was the tiles on the floor. The finger paint, the sensation of sand between your nails and recess were all alien to me. Was I allowed to come here every day? Where was the signs with impossibly long words on them? Where was frau Eeble yelling at me to colour between the lines? Why was my name written on a coat hook and on a spot on the floor? Where were all my friends from German school? Were they late?

I soon realized that everything I liked from German school wasn’t allowed here. I couldn’t pass notes to other students (because they couldn’t read them) and I wasn’t allowed to leave morning circle to look out the window to the trees and the seemingly never-ending street outside. My day was structured, boring and predictable. Soon I got tired of not talking to anyone and took to the limited bookshelf that stood often untouched in miss Iaccobellis’ classroom.

The teachers called my father into school one day and invited him to “observe Johanna’s day-to-day actions within the classroom”. I remember him staying for about ten minutes, then asking if he could talk to my teacher, followed by him leaving.

The next day, I was taken out of class and put into, what I now understand as, an ESL course. When they found out my mum came from a non-English speaking country, they figured the German influence was so large at home that it was hindering my success as an English speaker, which would explain why I didn’t talk to other children or respond to anything but my name.

Little did they know I understood perfectly well what was going on and I chose not to respond. One of my strongest memories was walking up the cold, salt-smelling stairs, holding the cold handrail, making my way up to the small classroom that was to be my ESL class until I convinced my imposing teachers that I was able to comprehend their mindless nattering and gossip.

ESL began to remind me of German class. Nouns, verbs, flash-cards galore, the only thing out of place was my teacher, miss Scenge. With grey hair as crazily wound as she was catholic, she stood about four feet tall and wore the most hideous of black shoes that could have possibly existed on earth. She would take me and my fellow classmate, best-friend-to-be, Brandon as well as a couple of first and second graders and have us sit in a circle as she droned on and on about how some words sound the same and how some words rhyme with other words. She would continue by going impossibly slowly through the alphabet and explaining how the letters s and h together make the sound “shhhhhhh” and would put her finger over her mouth. 2004’s teaching tactics required visual stimulants to otherwise boring and self-explanatory concepts.

After the second month of ESL, I had memorized the layout of the room. Scenge refused to turn the light on (something about the grass colour really inspired her), so the single one-meter by one-meter window provided minimal light to the narrow, white-walled, green-tiled floor that occupied what was now the most boring half hour of my life. There were days when I wished I could go back to German school, knowing that I would have a considerably more entertaining time, should I be there as opposed to here, in which desks that were too high and a woman reading the same alphabet book over and over and over again to occupy my time.

One day, miss Iaccobellis came into the ESL room and asked to see if Brandon and I were progressing at all.

“Johanna?” Scenge called my name, slowly. Ringing out every single syllable as though she was trying to spell out a word like flachswichser (translation: flat wanker) which would be a word that, if I had known it at the time, I would have liked to call her. “Would. You. Like. To. Show. Miss. Iaccobellis. You. New. Reading. Trick?”

Anything to get you to stop talking to me like an idiot, please.

I grabbed Scenge’s alphabet book and read it. It wasn’t a read, moreso than I reciting of lines from a plat. “The cat is C. The cat goes meow” flip. “The dog is D. The dog goes woof” flip. I cared so little about the words or the content of this book that I kept flipping the pages before the one I had just read hit the other half of the book.

Scenge grinned; she probably thought that she was an accomplished ESL teacher. I let her have her moment.

Miss Iaccobellis smiled at me. “You have a real talent for reading, Johanna. Well done.”

“Thank you, mith yak-o-bell-ith.” The lisp was something that ESL couldn’t help me get rid of.

The two teachers exchanged a look.

I didn’t have to go back to ESL the next day.

Balancing kindergarten with German school became a struggle. I still didn’t talk to any of the other kids in my kindergarten class (except for Brandon, but he still didn’t understand English very well so our conversations consisted mostly of pointing and gestures, as well as nods and headshakes.)

With my mum arranging a custody agreement between the two languages, I spoke English on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and German on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but Saturday was the most German filled of them all. Sunday, I stayed in my room after church and re-wrote renditions of Little Red Riding hood, in which the wolf was actually a bunny and that Little Red was very afraid of the forest and would imagine big, scary things trying to eat her. Both German and English versions were available, of course.

Time would pass that my German would slip away, but my hatred and resent for German school would not. Regardless of how many months have gone by since my graduation, my heart sinks when I wake up automatically at 7.00, but the power I feel when I can shamelessly roll over is incomparable when I can waste my Saturdays away, never needing to step out of bed and face the horrible world of schoolwork and activities that would cause me to do otherwise.

Fertig.

[ericcclaw]

The Importance of Child Custody Attorney In Family Law Cases

A child custody attorney is a family lawyer specializing in dealing with conflicts and issues involving the child/children of a couple going through a difficult marriage. Usually, this type of attorney is needed for consultation or guidance where both parents are in conflict with the custody of their child or children. This can happen before a divorce, during and after a divorce, or even after an unmarried couple splits.

The lawyer is expected to handle the legal procedures concerning the child-custodial rights and other issues. The tough thing about being a child custody attorney is you have to hammer out the details between the battling parents, one of whom will get the custodial rights over the child. This could be quite taxing because aside from the issue being too delicate; it could be very emotional too.

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Visitation rights and plans are also arranged and set by the child custody attorney. A visitation plan often goes such as - a child stays with one parent for the whole week and then stays with the other over the weekends (or every other weekend). If parents want to appeal or revise the plan so that the setup will suit them better, the attorney is expected to give advice again and rearrange the existing schedule accordingly.

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