#Endorse your travel

[samerpal]

"First, I would like to thank everyone who supported me.🙏🌹

This is my new platform, friends, after my old platform was deleted for reasons unknown to me.

I ask for your help in sharing my story again to keep hope alive for me and my family, friends.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.♥️

My family and I appreciate your cooperation and hope to reach the desired goal and save us.🙏

Attached are the verification links for the old account from the supporters.

Link vetted by @ibtisams

Link vetted by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi

Link vetted by @sar-soor

My approved number by the families in need and endorsed by the supervisors is 196."

@90-ghost @ibtisams @nabulsi @aces-and-angels @sar-soor @sayruq @fairuzfan @palestinegenocide @vakarians-babe @northgazaupdates @northgazaupdates2

Trapped Family in Gaza Appeals for Help to Survive 🕊️🇵🇸🙏

I Samer Abu Ras, am reaching out to you with a heartfelt humanitarian appeal, after the ongoing war in Gaza has cast its dark shadow over my life and the lives of my family. Our lives were once filled with peace and stability before the onset of this catastrophe, but now, we find ourselves living in a situation described as nothing short of tragic.

Please note that the conversion rate is 1 USD =10 SEK

10$ = 100 SEK

50$= 500 SEK

100$= 1000 SEK

200$= 2000 SEK

My wife, Shurooq, our three children, and I are now homeless, without a source of income, and without hope for the future. My family and I have lost our businesses and our home due to the war, and we now have nothing left but the cold streets and troubled hearts.

My children are suffering greatly as a result of these horrific events. They have lost the security and stability they once enjoyed and are now facing new health and psychological challenges that threaten their lives. As a father and husband, I feel powerless in my ability to provide adequate protection and care for them.

My child, who is a year and a half old, is experiencing hardships far beyond his tender age. Since the war broke out, we had to flee our home and seek refuge in a tent in a displacement camp. My child lives in extremely difficult conditions, deprived of safety and stability. The tent does not provide adequate protection from harsh weather, and food and medicine are scarce. My child suffers from malnutrition and illness, lacking basic healthcare. He cannot play or grow in a healthy and suitable environment. My only dream is to see him grow up in a safe place full of opportunities

In the face of difficult circumstances, Samer Abu Ras and his family find themselves facing serious challenges in their daily lives. They reside in a modest tent lacking comfort and security, suffering from a shortage of clean water and food, and encountering difficulties in accessing necessary healthcare. Despite these challenges, they continue to express hope and resilience in confronting adversity, holding onto hope for a better tomorrow and a return to a more stable and secure life.

I appeal to you today, dear friends, to extend to me a helping hand in escaping this hell. Regardless of the size of the donation, every drop of generosity will contribute to alleviating our suffering and rebuilding our lives anew.

We need your help to secure the funds necessary to travel away from these destructive wars and seek a safe and stable environment where we can build a better future for our children

Let us stand together in these difficult times and let hope triumph over despair by providing support and assistance to those in dire need. Let us be part of the solution and build a better future for ourselves and future generations.

Thank you for listening and for the potential generosity of your giving, and for your generous donations that will change the lives of my family for the better.

With sincere gratitude and appreciation

‏Samer Abu Ras and family.

@heba-20 @soon-palestine @marnota @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @i-am-aprl @nabulsi @sayruq @communistchilchuck @palipunk @palestinecharitycommissionsassoc @faggotfungus @ghost-and-a-half @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @three-croissants @interfacefox @appsa @akajustmerry @feluka @flower-tea-fairies @90-ghost @victoriawhimsey @ficsforgaza @aria-ashryver @mangocheesecakes @humanvoicebox @plomegranate @queerstudiesnatural @commissions4aid-international @palestinegenocide @ghost-and-a-half @bibyebae @heritageposts @norrriey 🍉🌹🍉✍️

🌹🍉🇵🇸❤️🌹🍉🇵🇸❤️🌹🍉

[onelonelystory]

the other day a bag that should have been PURPLE TAGGED!!!!!! ended up in the cart completely unmarked and I cut my hand open when it unbalanced me so I’m sorry but I’m not feeling very charitable rn lol

[tooies]

NOTE FOR FUTURE READERS: this post is referencing a specific phenomenon in which american liberals will try to refute criticisms of the democratic party by relating said party to hitler, for some reason. i am not saying that the democrats are hitler. i just think it's weird that people keep bringing him up as though calling your candidate "99% hitler" or saying "if hitler time travelled here to endorse harris then i would shake his hand and say thank you mr. hitler" is going to make people want to vote for them. thank you for actually taking the time to read this message

criticize the democrats once and there will be 100 american liberals in your notes using butchered aave to explain to you the hyperspecific situations in which they would be willing to elect hitler as president of their country

[sneakerdoodle]

‼️ new fundraiser spotlight‼️

i wanted to make a separate post calling attention to @abdalhadiaburas 's campaign, which has been set up with the intention to help his family survive displacement & rebuild their lives after they'd lost their source of livelihood

before the escalation of the genocidal war on October 7th, Abd worked as a lawyer, with his own advocacy bureau set up in a commercial building in Gaza City. his instagram is full of pictures of him at work, traveling, or enjoying a peaceful time at shopping malls and restaurants in Gaza, and of his young family members. on his gofundme campaign page, however, you can find photographic evidence of his family's current life in displacement.

so far, Abd's campaign has received $633 CAD out of $60,000 CAD goal.

❗Abd's campaign has not, as of yet, received verification, but he was kind and patient enough to talk to me in private both on tumblr & instagram, allowing me to confirm that the same person was running the tumblr blog/campaign and the instagram account.

as i am not an Arabic speaker or part of the Palestinian diaspora, i am not qualified to conduct any further checks. you are welcome to practice your discretion until (hopefully) more endorsement comes along; however, if you trust the process laid out here enough, please enagage, follow Abd's blog and donate!

i'm going to be tagging some of the people who reblogged the summary of my first interaction with Abd, now that new proof has been added to it:

@beedok @dark-hour-shenanigans @killjoycatlady @just-browsing1222 @silly-seer @07170 @orbees @turnipchamber @katealot @pronouncingitwang @hananono @ferretly @pegglefan69 @ontheboundverse2 @bellincurl @vie-0nl1n3 @kixflip (thank you all!!)

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 1

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Summary: The Atreides daughter is sent off to Giedi Prime to marry the Harkonnen heir in an attempt to quell the feuding Great Houses. The bride, however, must prove her grit and earn the respect of her new family if she is to survive her new life. Perhaps she will find that she had more Harkonnen in her than she thought.

TW: none (for now)

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (just not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, cannon what cannon

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Please bear with me, it has been ages since I've written anything and this is my first ever work of fanfiction. I've never written in the second person before so if you catch any mistakes, especially in verb tenses, please let me know. English is not my first language. Also, this might start out a bit slow but I promise things will pick up soon.

The smell of grass and the crashing waves of Caladan brought you comfort as you stood before the starship that had been rented from the Spacing Guild.

Your brother had insisted on accompanying you to Giedi Prime, but a round trip would have been unnecessarily expensive, even with the vast wealth of your Great House. Besides, it would be foolish to deliver the heir of House Atreides to the home world of their sworn enemies. It was bad enough they had to send you there.

"Give them hell," Paul teased as he hugged you goodbye.

You laughed, but you knew his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He had faith in your strength and ferocity, but he had much less faith in the hospitality of the Harkonnens.

"I'll miss you," you pull away and try to give him a reassuring smile but you, yourself, are not so certain of your fate.

You made your way to your mother, next in line to bid you farewell.

"Remember your training." Lady Jessica held your face and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. She had already given you all the advice she could.

You take her hands in yours and kiss them. "I will," you tell her solemnly.

You finally make it to your father, whose eyes are already welling with tears.

"My darling princess," his voice cracks as he lays a hand on your cheek. The Duke may seem a stoic man to most, but those who truly knew him knew he had a big heart.

Perhaps it is because you are one of those people that you finally feel that weight in your chest that you've been dreading since the signing of your marriage pact. It will be a truly long time before you would see your family again. If you could ever see them at all.

The Duke waves at an attendant who approaches with a silver tray. Leto takes the dagger resting on it and places it in your hands. "To remind you that you will always be an Atreides, that you will always be my daughter."

You let your tears fall as you hold the gift close to your chest.

"Don't cry now," your father pulls you into a hug, hoping to hide his own tears, "or I might never let you go."

You let a laugh slip through the sobs. You knew it was already decided and it is your duty to fulfill. The Sisterhood and the Emperor himself endorsed the match. Nothing could change it now.

The harsh light of Giedi Prime's black sun assaulted your eyes as you made your way down the starship's gangplank. The stark, high-contrast black and white made everything a pain to look at. You were thankful for the veils of your travelling gowns for providing you at least some shade.

You were greeted by House Harkonnen's steward, Jaromir Naggul, and swiftly led into the imposing, Brutalist fortress of their stronghold. You were almost happy to escape the infrared outside.

"Your belongings are being sent to your new quarters as we speak," Jaromir, a lanky but stately man, informs you. "You may change out of your traveling clothes and rest there. The Baron will receive you in the throne room in the afternoon."

You note his accent and the mild contempt in his voice, as if you were an inconvenience.

"This is Iassa," he gestures to one of the servants that had been following you through the halls. "She is your assigned slave. Should you need anything, you may tell her."

The word almost knocks the breath out of you.

You eyes turn to Iassa in her pale gray robes and you give her a polite nod. She hastily curtsies in return.

You knew the Harkonnens and even the Emperor kept slaves, but you suppose it never occurred to you that you would be charged with one yourself.

"Of course," Jaromir continues, "any of the servants in the fortress will be at your command, but Iassa will be in waiting for you in particular."

"Of course," you reply coldly.

"You will be staying in the guest wing for now," Jaromir says as he shows you the door to your quarters. "Of course, until your wedding. When you will then be moved to the na-Baron's apartments."

"...of course," you repeat, grateful again for your veils that they hide your dread.

You are silent as Iassa helps you into a black gown for your audience with the baron. It is the fashionable color in the Harkonnen home world. Although there were many other 'fashionable' traits on Giedi Prime, this was the only one you felt comfortable adopting right now. The complete lack of hair in every individual you had seen was certainly unsettling, but you sensed it would be rude to speak about it.

"What is the na-Baron like?" you ask.

Iassa pauses her fastening of your dress, she swallows. "He is a fearsome warrior, my lady," she keeps her gaze averted, "handsome and popular with the people."

Her voice was shaky but she seemed genuine. You only wonder if those words hold the same implications here as they do back home.

You look over to Iassa as she fetches your shoes. It's not difficult to see that she fears you. You cannot help but feel that that is all there is. You are still an off-worlder. An Atreides no less. She harbors no respect for you.

You take care to style your hair in the fashions of Caladan, fastening a falcon-like pin at the back of your head. The symbol of your house. Perhaps it is a risky choice, to be seen as defiant by the baron should he notice, but you could already feel the black sun beginning to drain the life out of you. The thrill of quiet defiance would have to sustain you for now.

Jaromir returns in time to fetch you and you are led to the throne room.

The baron's grotesque floating body looms over you and his subjects. You had never met any of the Harkonnens before but you were sure that was him.

"Welcome to your new home, Lady Atreides," the Baron utters your last name with thinly veiled loathing. "Let me present my nephew, Feyd-Rautha."

A tall muscular young man steps forward. Stately and regal as a Harkonnen could be, he looks over you with condescending eyes.

He certainly looked like a warrior, and you could see how the people of Giedi Prime could find him handsome, but you find yourself wanting to spit in his face.

"Forgive me for not greeting you when you landed, my lady," the na-Baron bows to you. His gravelly voice sends a chill down your spine, "I was preoccupied at the time. I trust you have settled well?"

You curtsy in turn, "I'm sure my lord had important duties to attend to. I am grateful for your hospitality. My rooms are very comfortable."

"Do not find them too comfortable young lady," the Baron calls from afloat his chair, "your wedding celebrations are to begin and you will be sharing rooms with my nephew before long."

Feyd-Rautha smirks at this and you are almost willing to cast decorum aside to slap it off his face.

"Tomorrow, your groom will take part in the arena to demonstrate his prowess as a worthy husband and leader, as per the traditions of our house," the Baron announces. "I'm sure you will make a point to attend."

"I would not miss it, dear Baron."

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

[ahaura]

im sure its been said already but as the election draws near more and more liberals will come out of the woodwork to shame people with a conscience to give away their vote to the democrats for free. i'm already seeing posts saying "why aren't people more concerned about a trump presidency?" you want to know why? it's because people already know he's bad. everyone already knows what he is and what he's done and what he'll do. there's nothing to discuss. he's a racist despotic worm of a man. there's nothing else to say.

biden is currently president. the genocide is happening under his watch. he's the one funding isra*l and arming them; he's sidestepped congress more than once to give them weapons. by oct. 27, the biden administration already knew that "Israel was regularly bombing buildings without solid intelligence that they were legitimate military targets." the state department/biden have engaged in atrocity propaganda, cast doubt on the legitimacy of the death toll recorded by the gaza health ministry, and so on. the united states is currently in the process of trying to pin the "war in gaza" on netanyahu (see sen. schumer's speech) after months of backing blatant genocide as a means to act as if they're "doing something" about the genocide (Instead of, say, threatening to cut off all aid to israel with the condition that all hostilities in gaza, the west bank, and occupied jerusalem are halted immediately and permanently, allowing palestinians freedom to travel, allowing aid into gaza, etc etc etc.)

the long and short of it is that liberals view their own lives as being worth more than palestinians'. that's it. they'll vote for another 4 years of the guy ushering in genocide and supporting apartheid + settler colonialism because he isn't outright attacking them (despite various laws and rulings happening both at the supreme court level and at the local level all over the country that will endanger people). they'll settle for the illusion of safety and security and shame anyone with a conscience and accuse them of "supporting the republicans" when in an actual democracy you would be able to use your vote as leverage to extract concessions from those who want to be elected. that's how it's supposed to fucking work.

democrats are not owed people's vote. if biden loses, it will be biden's fault; it will be his campaign's fault; it will be the democrats' fault. trump is bad; the republicans are bad. we already know this. this is not an endorsement of either. but if democrats are too cowardly and feckless and servile to the motivations of the american empire and never do anything for their constituents then why the fuck should anyone vote for them. you want to get mad at someone, why don't you do something useful and stop worrying about team-sports with a purely selfish basis and start hounding the people in power who are supposed to serve you, the voter.

[ch4mpagnedrought]

friendly game

[full series]

mdni ! art, tashi, patrick

summary: pinning two of the greatest tennis players of our future will not work with you and tashi, in fact, you’ve learnt to share your prizes.

deep breaths. you take deep breaths when taking your racket out of its bag, all five fingers wrapping around the grip tightly, that is so intensely watched by two pairs of curious eyes from above in the stands, inaudibly gawking at the way your black tennis dress, sporting a small nike logo above your left breast, flourishes from around your thighs to expose the surfaces of your skin that don’t see the sun very often.

maybe the single most important game at the 2006 US open, between two upcoming tennis prodigies that also happen to be best friends. an oxymoron on the court really, tashi’s in white, you in black, her in adidas, you in nike, her hair in a tight braid, yours slicked into a low bun. eyes are torn completely apart as the both of you travel across the court, rebutting every single one of each others moves like a choreographed dance, the jaws of your audience slacked open. everybody remains paralysed, leaving the squeaks of your shoes and the heavy grunts of your labour to echo across the stands—until hands grip onto neighbouring knees and the final shot is swung.

“yes!” you shriek, throwing your racket to the ground in ecstasy, letting it bounce back behind you and the strings to shrivel from the force. from across the court, tashi heaves with squinted eyes, watching your celebration with parted lips and stepping closer to the net where you meet her—your arms wrapping around each others glistening shoulders and chests pressing firmly against one another, “good game” she tilts her head to whisper her appraisals and you hum a sweet note, flashing her a smile while the two men blink down at you. their minds completely empty apart from a state of euphoria, seeing two of the most beautiful women they had ever laid their eyes on embrace after a game that was essentially life or death. already replaying the erotic extensions of your legs at every side step, hips swivelling and slender arms extending to shape an image from within the deepest depths of their minds.

the same way that they stood completely still and fixated onto the images of you at the celebratory party hosted for you and tashi. the blonde haired boy taking sips of his drink between all the thoughts that expel from the image of you, mid underhand serve, and run through his mind. while the other faces an image of tashi, mid overhead, and tries not to make it obvious that his gaze slips into imagining anything other than what is underneath those clothes she endorses.

even when you notice their toying eyes, approaching you sat knee-to-knee with tashi at a table having just spent the last twenty minutes dancing with one another that hadn’t gone unnoticed by them either, “art donaldson and patrick zweig, right?” their eyes are momentary frozen wide before art exhales an exasperated breath, choking up on nothing. “in the flesh” patrick mumbles, fidgeting with the rim of his coke bottle. your eyes dart from one boy to another, left to right, both of their shoulders tensing as they watch tashi’s lips uncurl from the pink straw of her orange drink, guiding the bottle towards your own lips, pressing the straw into your mouth nonchalantly to share a sip of the beverage, and the sweetness of her lip gloss.

“that, that game…it was seriously breathtaking” art chokes out to the both of you, looking down admirably at you and noticing the small freckles the sun has peppered on your nose that hadn’t been visible from the top of the stands. tashi thanks him, putting the straw back into her own mouth and projecting a mental image of you and her swapping more than saliva into patrick’s mind.

his feet shuffle on the spot, shaking away the thought, “you dealt with the loss much better than i would’ve.” lightheartedly he jokes, gesturing towards tashi and sending her a small smile, “how do you two stay friends?”

“we’ve been friends since childhood,” tashi takes a glance at you, but you’re already looking back, “there’s no bad blood, we learn from eachother.” the palm of her hand flattens on your thigh momentarily, leaning back further into the couch. patrick and art huff, elbowing one another, “just like us.”

they flatter the two of you, showering you with compliments, all while trying to make it seem as if they hadn’t been discussing what exactly they would say to you for the past couple hours, until you and tashi were standing in front of their hotel room door, silently leaning closer to hear whatever was going on inside. “they don’t have time to come here” a muffled voice speaks from behind the door, and another groans loudly.

you and tashi share a small smirk, holding back laughter when she knocks on the door to hear a sudden ruckus.

“hi” “hey” they sing simultaneously, mouths agape like two little dogs, panting at the sight of a treat, or drooling at the ring of a bell. neither you nor tashi even have the time to greet them, patrick opening the door a little wider and beckoning you inside, coming together on the floor of the questionably coloured carpet with a single can of beer in the middle.

patrick leans back onto his hands. “so, when did you two become friends?” tashi points a finger between the two, wrapping her arms around her knees and tilting her head in curiosity. “we’ve been bunkmates since we were twelve” he answers, and art glances down at his crossed legs with a nervous smile. you nod your head, whispering a small “cute” under your breath and brushing patrick’s wrist with your fingers when taking the beer he offers, making the hairs on his arms stand upright. the beer is warm and bitter, and you pass the can to tashi after leaving a wet imprint of your lips that art would try to discreetly swipe his tongue over only moments later.

“you share girls often?” you ask and patrick’s brows quirk up, corner of his mouth tilting upwards. “this is our first time.” art says, pinkish blush spreading across his nose and the apples of his cheeks that implies his mind is drifting somewhere else. “why? are we not your type?” tashi laughs, leaning over towards art and tucking her hair behind her ears, his eyes following her closely, “aren’t you two everybody’s type?”

the boys shift in their positions, patrick lifting his hips up into the air briefly to get a little more comfortable and art pressing his hands into his knees, sharing a glance between them. all of the breath you exhale meshes into a palpable energy, and your gaze switches between art and patrick in a way they’ve already grown to love, their faces twitching with an eager awkwardness, “are you each other’s type?”

art chuckles out, “no…no.” he denies with a head shake, patrick peering over his shoulder at him silently, “no, we’ve never done anything like that.”

your’s and tashi’s eyes meet briefly, lips turning up into a smile.

“well…” patrick begins and art immediately jerks his head towards him, hoping that he wasn’t about to say the one thing he didn’t want to share, “i mean…”

“patrick, no.”

“don’t be shy, you have to tell us now” you tempt, a playful glint in the glance you give art.

patrick clears his throat, “you know, i just, taught art how to jerk off” he explains casually art’s right of passage while he holds his head in shame, painting an image of him being covered in his own ejaculation, over his stomach and legs like he had just “spilled milk” all over himself.

“that was a really adorable story” tashi hums, placing a hand on your shoulder to hoist herself up from the floor, and reaching out to help you up too. two pairs of eyes follow you around intently, admiring the tips of your fingers that swipe over various objects in their hotel room and feeling a little embarrassed about how obvious it is that they cleaned it only around 10 minutes ago. random pairs of boxers making an appearance from underneath the two single beds that they had pushed together, and an alarming amount of cigarette ash on the surface of the drawers.

tashi’s hand finds your wrist and guides you onto their bed where you take a seat patiently, criss-crossed, waiting for one of the boys to catch on and join you, while they are utterly immersed in the idea that the two of you are real and really in their bed.

silently, you usher them towards you with a tilt of the head, both of them jumping to their feet, basically leaping onto the bed so all four of you make a square, knees very slightly brushing against one another. theres a silent anticipation, tension weaving around all of you and luring your bodies closer. you take a quick look at each of their faces, their dilated pupils and irregular breaths, and move your lips closer to art’s, watching him inhale deeply like he wants to take all the air from your lungs for himself. then patrick, that selfishly attempts to lean his face closer before you can pull away.

you look towards tashi, who inches her face closer to yours, lips parted slightly and meeting in the middle for a kiss. in your peripheral vision, it’s hard not the notice the way that art and patrick are restraining themselves from punching a fist into the air out of joy, loud and shallow breaths caressing your cheeks. your mouth opens wider, leaning in deeper to consume every part of tashi’s lips in a hungry craze while her hand reaches into your hair to pull you closer. the two other men that keenly wait had slipped out of mind, still staring with a captivated stillness when you pull away from one another.

all you have to do is lean back onto your hands for art to pounce onto the side of your neck that becomes exposed, while patrick leans in to plant a kiss onto tashi’s jaw. on the surface their lips travel across the curve of your necks, heads fallen back, suctioning until they can taste the flavour of your perfume that lingers on your skin, while your hands exchange messily beneath; art’s touch feathering on your arm and reaching for tashi’s shoulder, and patricks arms intertwining with art’s to extend and touch your’s and tashi’s thighs.

patrick nuzzles his lips into divot the beneath tashi’s ear, journeying across her shoulder and onto your own in one smooth line, nearly head-butting with art when he shuffles to grace tashi with the same tender attention.

your hands scrunch into patrick’s dark hair, body involuntarily aching until you draw him closer to your face by the chin to connect with his lips. he balances himself in front of you, planting his hands at your sides to allow him to move even closer to you all while tashi hums into art’s gently mingling lips.

pulling back from patrick, you move onto art’s swollen mouth that glistens with lip gloss, tasting the remnants of tashi and yourself on them. all four of your faces coming together in the middle, so close that there is a dangerous lack of oxygen.

tongues pressing flat on top of another, swiping over bottom lips to feel every ridge and an accumulation of hot air. you become lightheaded at the different hands that grope over your figure, being pulled in by the back of your neck. there’s a contrast in the way each one of them kisses; tashi’s lips are familiar and firm, patrick’s are similar in their starved manner, and art’s yearn to take every molecule you are made of and ingest it.

tashi catches on immediately to the way that your left hand squeezes hers and pulls back to leave only art and patrick breathlessly grasping onto the others torso, noses pressing against each other at every tilt of the head and tongues slipping astray. the moment is only short, you and tashi glancing at one another, unbothered at whether they have noticed that you’re gone or secretly fulfilling a guilty hankering.

“okay.” tashi says, slapping her palms across her legs and sending a smile at the two boys. bottom lips slicked with one another’s saliva they remain frozen, only inches apart.

“goodnight, we have an early morning tomorrow.” you buzz, patrick and art separating only to let you slide past them on the bed, tashi following close behind and you wrapping your arms around her bicep absentmindedly.

neither one of them are able to make a sound, mouthing a “goodnight” that isn’t audible, admiring the way both of your curly brown hair sways behind you, walking out in the matching shorts they wonder if you ever swap.

they look at one another, then at the imprints in the floral blanket that your bodies left, scrunches where exactly you sat that they are both ready to smush their faces into. all while you and tashi stand outside of their hotel room once again, tuning in to the muffled dialogue about art’s grandmother before scurrying down the hotel hallway—hand in hand.

[romanticoms]

not allowed

title inspo not allowed by tv girl

1.1k; 18+ MDNI. p in v, fingering, cheating (i don't endorse), semi public sex, light spanking & edging— please practice safe sex, and don't cheat.

a/n: hi omg after weeks of letting this crap rot in my drafts, my first fic just had to be about homewrecking, thank you to @tosuckmyweenis hehee, going from random asks to actually being convinced to post this, gave me the happy tears :")

There you were, sitting still looking pretty for the party as you served up the refreshments, opening doors as guests just piled up for your husband's party, it's only a few days until he leaves to god knows where—

"Mr Kennedy!" You opened the door to find your husband's best man, you knew him from his work and the next thing you knew he treated you way better in a few words rather than years of whatever your husband had to offer you, obviously you cleared your throat, simpering as he did. "I kept my promise," He replied coyly, nodding before you widened the door, letting him in.

You caught him getting a glimpse as you shut the door, the way your minidress wrapped around your curves, the fabric lying over your ass, god, he wanted it all to himself. He quickly let those thoughts vanish, at least temporarily. "So, where could he be?" His head scanned across the room to find your husband. "Star of the show's asleep, he had too much to drink." You shrugged. "Bummer," He let out a rather amused smile, not seeming down at the absence of your husband.

You watched as guests come and go, a few hours pass by as you watched the crowd dissipate. You waved goodbye before shutting the door, somehow Leon was still there; a bottle in hand as his attention was still on the football match on the screen. It's not customary to kick your guests out, especially if they've done so much for you— and still are.

"You're still here? I thought you'd leave like the rest," You asked, hoping he didn't get the wrong idea. "Figured you'd need some company, can't leave someone like you unaccompanied.." He teased, raising his bottle up as he watched you get one for yourself from across the room, he watched as you raised your ass up, it was your luck the bottles were sitting all the way down in your fridge. He kept his mouth shut, his gaze never turning away from your curves, how he'd imagine himself pressing his bulge over that thin fabric he'd barely call a dress.

Scratch the small talk, you two knew how this was going to end up, so why bother dragging it? He watched as you placed both of the open bottles on the table, taking a swig while he watched you. His calloused hand wrapped around your waist as he forced you to his lap, you didn't exactly protest. "Doesn't seem like you wore this for him," His hand crept up your dress, reaching out to the band of your panties, pulling it with a single finger before letting the band slap against you. "Y'gotta be a good girl, stay quiet, yeah?" He nodded alongside you, making sure you heard him right. "Don't want a whore like you to be caught fucking your husband's bestest friend, right? Or is that what you want— to be caught?" He sneered, watching you hide your face as you tried to ignore his harsh words, but fuck— you only grew more and more sensitive and vulnerable to his degrading language. "Oh? Poor baby's grown so used to being degraded," He cooed as his fingers slid under your panties, down to your slick covered cunt. His fingers curling inside your velvet walls, tongue sticking out in between his teeth as he did so. You whined, shaking your head as you tried to back down from his harsh teasing.

"Don't deny it, baby. You've been waiting for me, haven't you? Isn't that why you're wearing this?" He whispered, his free hand trailed to the hem of your dress, flipping it up before you helped him hold it. His free hand travelled up and down your waist while you rode against his fingers. He gave your waist a squeeze tight enough to bruise before briefly letting go, smacking your ass almost right after, a whine escaped your lips as you buried your face on his collar, getting a whiff of his expensive cologne that somehow got you more aroused. "I told you not to make a noise, right?" He muttered, spanking you once again. You bit your lower lip to silence your wincing. "That's more like it, such a good girl." He cooed, almost pretending as if he wasn't shaming you for indulging in what the two of you wanted. Somehow his constant switching between degrading and praising you only got you more and more aroused. "M-Mr Kennedy, 'M gonna cum.." You whined. "Not yet, baby, need you to cum on my cock." His lips curled at the corners, he let out a groan as he watched you comply, both hands undoing his pants, then sliding both his pants and briefs right off. His exposed cock only got harder the moment the cool air hit surface. He watched you grind against the tip before taking him all in, his head threw back instantly. "Fuck, y'so tight," He groaned, a hand rested around the headrest, holding a bottle while the other had a grip around your hip tight enough to bruise. "L-Leon.." You panted, watching him handle you all while nonchalantly taking swigs at his beer, his hands slid off from your hip to your clit, brushing his thumb over it while staring into you as you drifted into pure ecstacy. "C'mon, sweet girl," He coaxed as your orgasm came crashing. A thousand fireworks frolicked in your mind, your body refused to stay still as he continued to fuck you. "That's it, my sweet girl, doin' so good for me." He cooed, brushing a piece of your hair away from your face. "Fuck, I'm gonna stuff you— sweet thing." He grunted, "You'd like that, yeah? Fucked dumb by your husband's friend— now you want his kids." He broke into a small chuckle at the end of his words, watching you squirm and deny all while he overstimulated you, his thumb flicked your clit while he continued to thrust into you. "Leon! 'S too much!" You mewled, your nails clawed through either side of his broad shoulders. "Oh, fuck, sugar— y'milking me dry over here." A hard chuckle came at the end of his words. You could feel the hot sticky jizz spurt inside you, as you squirted all around his cock. The feeling died out the second his cock slipped back out, spraying a few more strings all around your stomach.

You were a crying mess, tears ridden halfway as Leon's thumb brushed them off alongside a few strands of your hair off your face. "Oh- shh. Wouldn't wanna wake your husband up to see you like this, huh?" He dragged your face to his shoulder by a hand on the back of your head, you wept nearly incessantly before he pressed a kiss on your forehead. "There, there. Let's get you cleaned up," His voice merely a low timbre as he brushed the back of your head with his thumb upon running his fingers through your hair.

[jaeminify]

synopsis ☆ jaemin tries his very best to make sure you're included in every one of his plans, even if it means travelling for a day and spending most of your evening in the hotel. jaemin, however, makes it up to you and makes sure you know how much he adores you.

inspired by the live mark and jaemin had. thank you leo boys <3 not much plot and there might be some details that don't add up, but it's just porn without a plot. suggestive at most! jaemin is a bit of an exhibitionist... horny af too

"Yeah. Yeah, no I know... No, I didn't say that."

Jaemin is on the phone when you slide in the key to your shared hotel room and he isn't alone. To his left he has his close friend, Mark Lee, a mutual friend of yours through Jeno Lee, who was your close friend and a sibling to Lee Donghyuck.

You were sure the two of them had just finished up discussing plans regarding the new business they were planning to open the following month and had taken up quite the time of your evening (that was meant to be shared with you). Mark seems to get the idea. He doesn't have to be told twice to know when to get out of a couple's room, simply because his girlfriend had been the one to remind him to leave the second they were done talking about business.

Well, Jiyeon wasn't exactly Mark's girlfriend anymore. As of last week she had been upgraded to fiance with an engagement ring that blinded anyone that glanced at it. You helped Mark pick it out because you were her best friend, you were happy to see the happy could thriving.

Mark sends you a small wave when you slip on the room slippers and walk into the living room.

Jaemin never travelled anywhere without booking the best of places for you. Had he travelled alone he would get a room facing the building opposite, but with you, he called the hotel owner personally to make sure he had the view of the city. He was ready to book the penthouse suite but settled with the honeymoon suite when you caught him looking at the website. You weren't sure what he was booking them for— you assumed it was an early anniversary gift for his parents, so you chimed in and pointed out the view from the honeymoon suite was just as beautiful as the penthouse, so Jaemin didn't think twice when he confirmed his reservation.

You were surprised that he wanted you with him during his conference, but you were relieved when he told you that you didn't need to attend any major events.

You enjoyed being Jaemin's plus one, and you knew that Jaemin loved being yours. It made any events you attended a lot more enjoyable, but if your presence wasn't necessary, or if a plus one wasn't really required, both you and Jaemin knew when to take a step back to let the other shine.

Jaemin owned multiple businesses that his father passed down to him whereas you held multiple shares and owned three different buildings that your mother was considerate enough to give willingly, considering she refused to let your elder sister chip in when she wanted the buildings you, now, owned.

"Did you guys just finish up?" You whisper softly to not interrupt Jaemin's call. Your boyfriend had his back to you and Mark, standing out at the balcony while trying to keep his voice levelled.

Mark nodded, "Barely. He's on the phone with Jung now," Mark made a face. "I think he's still trying to convince Jaemin to endorse his company."

You scoff at the information Mark tells you, "Jaehyun had his chance six months ago to come up with a plan but he fell flat on his ass when he stole the copies from Suh & Co." You shake your head, "The nerve he has."

"You're telling me," Mark runs a hand over his face. "I think Jaemin and I can continue this tomorrow with the law firm. It's getting late and I don't want to take up your time too."

"Thanks, Mark." You smile at Jaemin's friend and give him a polite hug, wishing him goodnight as you shut the door behind you after Mark leaves.

"...That's not going to happen." You catch bits of Jaemin's words as he speaks to Jaehyun on the phone, trying to not get irritated on behalf of your boyfriend at the pile of stress Jaehyun's adding.

You decide to comfort Jaemin with a small hug, if you could even call it that. You simply hook your arms onto his shoulders the kiss the back of his neck. As you slide your hands down from his shoulder you feel rather than see, that he has his shirt unbuttoned. You move to step away from Jaemin but your boyfriend is swift when he catches your hands with his free one and laces his fingers with yours.

He turns around so he's facing you then pulls you in closer to wrap an arm around you. While eh talks to the person on the phone, he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead as if to say hello, i'm glad you're back.

That was the beauty of being with Jaemin. Even if he was busy, even if he was caught up in something he would never let you go unnoticed. Or rather, he'd never make you feel as though you had to beg for his time or for any effort, because he did it as if it was as easy as breathing. Adoring you, loving you and cherishing you was something Jaemin mastered in.

You cling onto Jaemin, wrapping your arms around his middle and looking up at him with your beautiful doe eyes that makes Jaemin smile even if his words are ugly as he speaks to Jaehyun. He holds his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he uses both hands to cup your cheek.

"You're so beautiful," He mouths to you as his thumb grazes your cheek.

Before you can even respond, Jaemin's right hand is quick to grab his phone then you hear, "Listen, Jung, I could stand here all night and pretend that I'm thinking about giving you another shot, but I'm not. So, thank you for trying. I hope Donghyuck is a lot more understanding than I am."

Jaemin hangs up and places his phone on the table behind you on the balcony. There's a lovely breakfast table for you both to sit on, but it was nearing midnight and all you could see was concrete jungles of buildings and the sound of heavy traffic increasing as the night was young.

You smile when Jaemin wraps you in a hug and nuzzles his face against your skin.

"Missed you so much baby," He whispered, when he pulls away, his hands slide to your waist. "Where'd you go?"

You stretched your arms and grinned, happy to share all the details of your night with your lover.

"I managed to get the last slot for a good massage then hopped into the sauna before coming back to the room."

"God, a massage sounds so good right now."

"You're not getting it from me," You laugh when Jaemin pokes your sides, you can feel the grin on his face.

"I'm thinking about something else that's a lot better than massages, baby."

"It hasn't been that long since the last time we had sex, Jaemin." You whisper against his lips, knowing that the harder you try to resist Jaemin's advances, the easier it'll be for him to make you crack.

You feel your knees weaken when his hands start to caress your lower back, teasing touches that feel so light you aren't sure are even there, but the rough pads of his fingertips that slide under your skirt is enough to confirm that his touch, is very real. Jaemin isn't the type to rush in to anything he does. He's witty and tactful. He acts when he knows there'll be a reaction, and with you, he knows every little thing that makes you tick, moan, and scream.

"Hasn't it?" Jaemin's breath is hot against your lips as he teases you. Leaning in with his head tilted as though he was ready to engulf your lips with his, before pulling away to trace your cheekbone with the bridge of his nose. "You're just so irresistible, doll."

Jaemin's hands are now completely under your skirt, lifting it up to expose your laced underwear, not caring if the two of you were standing on the balcony with opposite buildings standing parallel to the hotel. He didn't care who saw you two. All that was in his mind was your pretty face and the way your skin felt against his.

"Did Mark leave?"

You nod breathlessly, subconsciously gripping the front of his shirt to pull him closer when you feel him knead your skin. Jaemin pouts, confusing you for a second until a flush of arousal returns at his next words.

"Shame," He tutted, "Could've let him watched how good of a girl you are for me."

You almost moan at his words, nearly collapsing to your knees to suck his aching cock. You feel it throbbing against your thigh. Jaemin was just as turned on as you were but did his best to now show it.

"But," He starts again, "I don't like the thought of sharing you with anyone, pretty girl." Jaemin smiles, you aren't sure what he's thinking but he seems satisfied. "You're mine, right? Aren't you angel?"

"Yours. . ." you breathe out, clinging onto his skin now, latching your lips to his neck as you desperately beg for more. Jaemin hums in satisfaction when he feels you suck his neck. He loves to mark you up but it feels more fulfilling when he wakes up to the scratches you left on his muscled back, and the marks you leave on his neck. "Only yours."

"That's fucking right." He growls, leaving a hand on your waist while the other reaches up to cup your jaw, leading you up to his lips.

He pulls away without any warning but slips his hand into yours to let you know he isn't going anywhere far. He knows how needy you get, especially when you're riled up, the last thing he'd want is to upset his baby or make you think he was going to leave you high and dry. You can't think straight so you watch Jaemin with heavy eyes, admiring the way his physique looks under his dress shirt.

You hear him slide the door leading back into your room shut, before another click. He's locked you both outside.

Before you can say anything, Jaemin sits himself on the chair by the breakfast table and guides you to straddle his lap. There's a slight wind that brushes against you two, but Jaemin doesn't seem to care when he cups your face to let you rest your forehead against his.

"I'm gonna fuck you on this table until we're both satisfied, that sound okay, angel?"

If you weren't riled up before, you definitely were now. Jaemin smiles at your eager nod, enjoying the way your hands work your way to unbutton his shirt while he plays with your tits over your shirt. It's his, but he likes you in his clothes. His cock rises even more at the thought of him getting to fuck you in his clothes.

"That's a good girl," He cooed when you slip his shirt off his shoulders, revealing his buff shoulders and toned body. He'd been working out recently, mostly to keep his mind occupied from work, but it's paying off because you get to ogle him and he likes being the centre of your attention.

Jaemin flexes his pecks and rests his hands on your hips to guide them. He feels you start to grind your pussy onto his cock over his jeans and he bites back a moan. "Naughty baby, so eager to have my cock inside you aren't you?"

He kisses your cheeks, nose and eyes then neck.

"Taste so good, I'm gonna be taking my time with you doll."

And he does. The whole, damn, night.

[venusandsaturnsrings]

Many thoughts of guard dog boothill... -chubby darling anon

MY SWEET!! thank u for sharing the boothill brain mwah mwah!! love u always U^ェ^U

there’s an issue, however… boothill doesn’t make a very good bodyguard, much less a guard dog. he has a habit of causing more trouble than he protects you from, something about his ego, which means that the second he gets even the slightest idea that someone’s looking at you a bit too long?? he’s lunging at them. all sharp teeth on display as he loads his gun with whatever bullets he can grab, inside or outside his body. even if the person was just looking past you, boothill sees it as a personal slight; they were obviously trying to rile him up!!

he’s not exactly the kind of guy i can imagine in a hybrid scenario, mainly because he’s such a mashup of parts already, but a being a dog would suit him… perhaps an australian shepherd… food for thought…

anyways, hiring him as your body guard?? a bad choice and also very bold of you to assume he’d agree!! he’s the travelling type, being a galaxy ranger, so consider this: forbidden lovers.

you were the esteemed child to an esteemed set of parents that expected no less than perfection of you. on one such interastral expedition, boothill happened to be on your planet for reasons he wouldn’t disclose but it all came down to an evening you shared. there was a reception of sorts for an upcoming book your family had endorsed, so you were expected to attended and, at your mothers word, perhaps look for a suitable partner. this particular breed of gathering wasn’t your speed, nor did you have any interest in scouting amongst the primarily geriatric body of people for a potential spouse. inevitably, you ended up tucked off on a balcony, some sort of fruity cocktail in hand as you idly played with the stir stick and waited out the party to its end. that was until a tall and out of breath gentleman stumbled onto the same balcony with a sharp whistle and sigh. it took a couple moments for him to notice you timidly staring, but when he did he jerked out a hand for you to shake and announcing himself as ‘boothill’ with a strangely charming accent. thus began a series of secret meetings and stolen kisses between giggles and the walls of places you’d never been; boothill was quite good at expanding your comfort zone.

eventually, your parents did find out and were livid that you’d been fooling around with a ‘no good wanted criminal,’ and demanded you see him one last time to have him turned in to the authorities. they didn’t realize just how slippery he could be or just how you had been waiting on the chance to finally leave so, you slipped out with all that you needed in the middle of the night to a grinning boothill. he promised to take you to even better bars and shooting ranges on much cooler planets so long as you stayed with him (you couldn’t possibly leave now).

[the-astral-express-archive]

Honkai: Star Rail CN | Star Travel Notes: Silver Wolf & Summer Game Recommendation: Robin's Music Classroom

Artist: Ukiing不倦

Publisher: The Family

Genre: Rhythm, Educational, Companion

Version: 2.6

Age rating: 6+

Introduction: A karaoke game endorsed by the renowned interstellar star Robin. Learn music with Robin as your companion while gaining courage and strength from her songs.

This content is for entertainment purpose only and does not represent the actual plot and setting of the game.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Hi there,

Saw your post about Cajun/cowboy Alastor and OMG! I don’t have many ideas other then maybe he plays poker for souls or something like that and maybe a reader comes into town and is just as good at poker as he is. And he cannot seem to win, leading him to become mildly obsessed over winning their soul.

Thats all I have as I don’t know much about cajun/cowboy stuff.

I’ll let you know if I have any other ideas!

Thank you!

Alastor - [ ACE OF HEARTS ]

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A/N: Omg, I love your take on cowboy Al! It got me thinking about it for days. I have never played poker, so I had to watch multiple YouTube videos to understand the game while writing this. Hopefully, it came out accurate enough! Also, this is a very, VERY traumatic/smut-heavy fic I'm working on, so please be aware and know I don't endorse anything I write.

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ GUN PLAY… ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON….eventually.] + [ SLIGHT/IMPLIED AGE GAP ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/BLOOD/CANNABILISM ] + [ KIDNAPPING…sort of?.. ] + [ PARENTAL PHYSICAL AB*SE…eventually..] + [ ANGST/TRUAMA…]

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**Cowboy Alastor** is known for his record of killing, is a skilled bounty hunter, and is far from a decently moral one. Everyone assumes his motives, guessing who his next target is and if he’ll ever feel guilt for what he does to them.

He doesn't.

What kind of demon would he be if he did…

Besides, the people he kills owe him in one way or another, all in debt to the red demon by their stupidity and lust for life, so he feels nothing for them when the time comes for the price of their deals to be paid.

Alastor arrives for them in the dead of dry nights, taking their last breath with a single bullet to the head or a clean cut across the throat. Their pleas do little to affect his decision.

“A deal is a deal…”

He reminds them that escaping a bloody end is impossible, already solidified by their selfish desires, and no amount of begging will change his mind. They curse his name, glaring at the grin on his face as he draws nearer with deathly intent in his eyes, and it only grows as he derives pleasure from their refusal to cooperate.

The riches, the riding, and the roughness he endures daily are nothing compared to the satisfaction he gets from killing. Others may deal in chasing oil, farming land, and cattle, but he stakes his fulfillment in the business of blood.

**Cowboy Alastor** dabbles in gambling when he's not off-striking deals with lowly souls or wreaking havoc on those he deems deserving.

Every city south of New Orleans with a bar or saloon welcomes his visits and not by choice.

Those who don't meet his standards or demands of hospitality drop from the face of the earth at his will, burning to a crisp full of the dead occupants who so lightly offended him, and never to be rebuilt out of fear he'd return to demolish it again.

He surely would, but no one has yet to test the theory in fear of a painful death by his hands.

Alastor leisurely travels the expanse of Louisiana's countryside, partial to riding wherever the wind blows, but he’ll always return to the rumbling city of New Orleans.

Whether for personal reasons or because his beloved mother wished to see him, it becomes second nature for the deer demon to reside there randomly. It was his hometown, after all, and he preferred the taste of whiskey from a familiar place over foreign alcohol in far-off dusty taverns he'd never visit again.

The saloon he fancies sits opposite the central townhouse, a tall building at the end of a main street that never seemed to rest.

Lafitte’s Blacksmith Bar

Summer nights brought out and drew in more people, filling the bar with patrons who knew of his deeds and those who’d only heard scarring stories about him through the ladder. The knowledge of a red reaper roaming the towns of Louisiana varied, but their fearful respect of him was abundant the moment Alastor stepped foot into the bustling bar.

He was there, in good spirits for the most part, but still an impossible threat they couldn't brush off.

**Cowboy Alastor** greets the silent patrons with a sly grin, tipping his hat to the fear-stricken owner who eyed him from behind the packed bar.

“Don't let me interrupt the fun, Cher. I'm not here to cause you trouble… that's if you're kind enough to indulge me.”Alastor chuckles, not waiting for a proper response from anyone as he stalks over to his usual spot in the smokey parlor.

A group of cattlemen stiffen in their seats as he walks by, all grabbing their drinks as swiftly as possible before leaping up from their table to avoid him, and their skittish actions cause Alastor to laugh as he settles into a particular backroom booth.

It was customary for people to keep their distance from him, some deterred by his striking appearance while others simply didn't want to risk involvement with a known killer. He saw nothing wrong with their aversion, glad that his reputation proceeded him, but there were those single few who saw him as a challenge rather than a threat.

Poor fools…

Mortal or not, he ran into them regularly, welcoming their duels like a bored child getting a new toy to destroy, and though he knew they'd fail to win against him, he'd never turn down a good game.

Ever…

**Cowboy Alastor** lets the saloon wind into chaos again, humming along to the melody of music and rowdy singing while getting comfortable in his secluded spot.

His hat rests low on his head, shielding most of his red gaze from those who look his way, only leaving the view of his Cheshire smile and effectively signaling his oddly calm demeanor. Alastor slipped his riding jacket off, tossing the tailored burgundy clothing across the back of the booth, his leather and suede black gloves following suit.

“What a day it's been…” he mumbled while flexing his long fingers, relaxing his posture while leaning back and rolling his neck until a soft ‘pop’ was heard.

Consequently, the tension tangled in his limber body from riding all day unraveled. Alastor sucked his teeth at the feeling, licking his lips as a satisfied groan left them, and just as he sat forward again, the owner hurried to his table with a bottle of alcohol and a tray of cigars.

“Your usual, Al,” he split out, setting the items in front of him with shakey hands, and Alastor clicks his tongue at the nervous tick. He'd come to this bar for years, and the old man still trembled in his boots around him. The poor fool wouldn't dare admit his fear either, rushing off as soon as he reached for the bottle, and though some might consider his retreat rude, Alastor found it amusing.

Flattering, even.

**Cowboy Alastor** drinks slowly, letting the whiskey burn his tongue and drowning the malt taste with languid drags from a cigar.

Eyes scan over him, women whisper about him lustfully under the rowdy music, and the men keep their senses about them with happy trigger fingers.

Because as they say: “Red Reaper, Red Reaper. The devil's solemn deal keeper. Beware him & the hell he seeks…”

Alastor imposes his intensity, grinning at those who stare too long, watching the women who drink him in with an equally sultry stare, and daring the men to throw a bullet his way with a knowing smirk. He invites trouble, waiting for it like a preying snake in tall, dry grass, but after some time, he assumes no one in the saloon will accept his invitation.

That is until you step in, looking lost among the worldly thrills of a bar but unafraid to venture further into it with an air of certainty surrounding you.

**Cowboy Alastor** makes no move to approach you, laid back as ever, as he observes the gentle way you speak to men who drunkenly approach you. They make offers to dance, almost crowding your more diminutive form as you trail to the bar.

“Sorry, boys, but I'm here on business, not pleasure. Now, run along..” you wave them away playfully, purposely flirtatious but avidly stern.

He expects them to continue bugging you; you're a doll, after all, prettier than most women he's seen. However, the men retreat politely, leaving you be as the owner approaches your side, and you immediately turn to hug him despite his apparent concerned expression.

Alastor observes the exchange closely, reading your lips perfectly while sipping at his drink, and it's all too easy for him to assess the situation.

The daughter of a businessman returns home after finishing school in the north, wanting to visit him at work as a pleasant surprise, but he's far from happy about a young lady like yourself being out late at night in a place like this.

You're too mannered to be seen around the patrons, it's dangerous for you to ride alone in the evening, and your father isn't pleased you intend to stay out to celebrate your school completion.

He tells you it's best to go home, that he'll come with you, but you insist on staying and remind him, “I'm not your little girl anymore, Daddy!..” The older man can't seem to rein you in, having to drop the lecture as a small brawl breaks out in the corner of the saloon, which draws his attention immediately, and this leaves you to wander the scene freely.

A perfect time for Alastor to reel you in close and personal…

**Cowboy Alastor** whistles when you walk past his area, catching your attention with a short, soulful melody, and you quickly notice him in the dim back room.

“Hi there, lil’ lady. Searchin' for somethin'?” He inquires playfully, tone bordering sensual, and his grin slipping into a closed smile as your gaze settles on him.

You’re curious, not scared of him like most are, and the moment he speaks to you, questions race through your head.

Who is he?

How have you never seen him here before?

Why, in God's name, is he sitting away from the masses?

Is he a rider, a hunter, or maybe a convict?

It was hard to tell from a distance, so without a second thought, you flashed him a gentle smile, gradually approaching where he sat, “Hello, and who might you be, sir?” You chirp a greeting, resisting the urge to bite your lip as he stares into your wandering gaze.

Alastor assumed you’d been away from the South too long to realize who he was, that your father's earlier warning didn’t sprout from overprotectiveness but rather fear of his presence.

You didn’t see him as a threat, nor a danger, but a new face in an old town.

He chuckles, putting out his cigar after taking a particularly long drag from it, blowing smoke past his lips with a coy hum. You blink as the convoluted air fans your face, unbothered by it and itching for a taste of tobacco yourself. It’d been a few years since you’d let loose, not allowed to frequent bars or act unladylike in the limelight of northern modesty.

“A loyal patron, but it’s been some time since I’ve paid this place a visit.” He answers you politely, an odd trait that most men only reserved for themselves but refreshing to experience.

“Oh, well, that’s nice to hear, but your name is what I would like to know.”

A tender smirk stretches your lips, a red hue dusting your cheeks as he tips his hate apologetically before uttering a response, “Alastor Hartifelt. A pleasure to meet you, Miss…��� he pauses, quirking a brow at you expectantly, and you take a moment to analyze him further.

You've heard your father utter his name many times before your departure to the north. He'd described him brutally, having less than pleasant things to say about bounty hunters in general but especially about the man in front of you now. You'd heard people talk of his deeds, deals, and evil.

He was dubbed the ‘Red Reaper’ for a good reason, lurking around in the bitter nights and drawing blood from one poor soul or another in his travels.

Supposedly, he was a terrifying monster, but you'd always found beauty in the demented. It was one of the reasons your father had sent you away, but fortunately, the influence of the posh upper class did nothing to change your consciousness.

Besides, the rumors had failed to mention how attractive the red reaper was, let alone dashing. He seemed nice enough hadn't flashed his weapon, threatened, or catcalled you disrespectfully.

So, you found no harm in telling him your name, “Y/n L/n. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Hartifelt.” You blink slowly, drowning in his red eyes, unconsciously swaying where you stood, back to a wall that hid your presence near him from your father's eyes and the curious stares of others.

Alastor glanced at the space beside him, silently asking that you join him, but unlike most women, he rarely took an interest in, you didn't move until he asked you outright.

“Would you care to join me for a drink, Miss L/n? I'd like to have your company for a while..”

He doesn't speak any louder than needed, using every bit of charm he has to lure you in, and you let him believe he's succeeded with a sensual laugh and purring laugh.

“Why, I thought you'd never ask..”

**Cowboy Alastor** asks a lot of questions. Subtly gathering information about you that he has no use for.

You give him answers; some are lies, others are indiscriminate truths, but you can't bring yourself to be completely honest with a stranger known for his cunning. He keeps your glass full, pacing the liquor with you, reveling in your gentle laughter after every sip, and softening faster and faster the longer you conversed.

You kept your wits about you as best as possible, inviting his fleeting touches but never going further than whispering in his ear or tapping a finger under his sharp chin when he'd stare too long.

Alastor didn't mind your soft hands on him, nor your lingering gaze and confident provocations. He absentmindedly returned the gestures just as boldly.

Your fifth glass of whiskey was running low, and without a hint of hesitation, he refilled it alongside his own. You watched as the amber liquid filled each glass, utterly relaxed as he spoke to you tenderly, “You say your father sent you far up north. May I ask why?…”

He peers at you, sliding the transparent glass into your waiting hand, and you chuckle wryly while taking a sip. “Daddy says it was for my good. You see, my mother is a stickler about manners, and I didn't have much of any growing up. Ironic, seeing as I was raised well enough.” you paused, frowning at the memory of your strict but loving mother.

She was lovely to look at and kind most of the time, but her ambitions for you outweighed her patience. Alastor noted the haunting sadness in your eyes but said nothing as you continued, looking out into the crowd of patrons fussing about as you did.

“My mother died a few years back, leaving daddy to handle me, and when he realized he couldn't manage the business and a daughter, he sent me away. Couldn't blame him either; I was getting into trouble left and right and had some bad habits on the rise, too.”

His ears perked at the words ‘bad habits’ leaving your lips, naturally drawn to knowing a mortal's darkest secrets, so he pressed for clarification.

“Bad habits, you say? I couldn't imagine a sweet thing like you havin’ such things.”

You scoffed, glad your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol buzz to mask the blush his comment invoked, “Well…I did. Still do if I'm honest.” you admit in a hushed tone, knocking back the last of your drink before glancing his way.

“It's hard to resist doing things you're good at.”

Alastor leaned back into the seat, drink in one hand, the other fixing his hat so it sat back on his head. The adjustment gave you a peek at his fluffy red hair and the distinctive blood-marked x on his forehead. You thought to ask what the mark meant but saved the question for later, as he agreed with your statement.

“Very true, ma chere. Although I'm one for killin’, your passion may not be so grizzly and easier to alleviate.”

“My father thinks gambling is just as bad as killing. It doesn't matter if he's addicted to it himself or not. If I do it…I'm the devil's daughter in his eyes..” You roll your eyes, an action that jolts a nerve Alastor hasn't felt in years and subconsciously doesn't ignore.

“Gambling? That's your unproper poison?” he narrows his gaze as you nod lazily, a few ringlets of your hair falling from its pinned-up style as you do, resting on the skin of your shoulders and neck.

Soft.

Your locks look soft and silky to the touch, tempting him to run his fingers through it, across your skin, and, god forbid, under your dress.

A heavy breath settled in his chest at the possibility, a familiar rush coursing through him as you moved your lips to speak, “Yes. I see a stack of playin’ cards, and I just can't help myself. I got rather good at playing too but when you beat everyone in town at it people start to be less kind about your reputation.”

You laugh, attempting to make a light-hearted joke but ultimately grimacing at the mention of lousy sportsmanship from others. You couldn't help winning a challenge in poker, and many saw the talent as disgraceful, which prompted I'll rumor about you.

“That's a shame, sugar. Everyone deserves a chance to play a good game of their choosing.” he feigns concern, meeting your curious eyes as you shift to face him, “Everyone except me if my father has anything to say about it. Still, I suppose it's best I let it go…” you sigh, grabbing the bottle of whiskey to pour another shot.

Suddenly, you freeze, feeling his body heat invade your space. Alastor tilts his head down close to yours, breathing in your scent discretely before pressing his lips to the lobe of your ear as he mutters into it, “Why don't you play a game with me, chere? One lil’ round for fun… right under your daddy's nose, hm?”

The burn of excitement seizes your body, a shakey breath leaving your lips as his voice settles in your mind, inviting you to indulge his offer. That same heat pooled in your core with every second he spent in your space, inhaling the scent of bourbon and sweet sugar cane grass he rode through radiating off him, words just as inviting and addictive.

For a horrifying, well-feared killer, he sure did entice a woman like any natural-born gentleman…

It was a deathly combination you knew he often used, killing or not, and though it'd be wise to avoid his idea, you didn't want to risk missing an opportunity for the thrill.

It'd been so long, too long, and what's the worst that could happen?

Losing to him?

You'd never lost to anyone before, and you were confident that fact wouldn't change -even going up against the Red Reaper himself.

**Cowboy Alastor** relishes when you utter a ‘yes’ to his offer. His grin widens menacingly for a split second as he sets his glass down next to your empty one, conjuring up a meticulously detailed deck of playing cards and placing them on the table.

“You can choose which game we play, sugar…”

Alastor shifts away from you, letting you regain your composure and watching as your delicate fingers reach for the top card of the deck.

“Poker. A favorite of mine..” You didn't think twice before answering him, admiring the red and black ace in your hand, wondering where he acquired such personalized playing cards.

“Poker it is then, chere,” he smirks wickedly, removing his hat entirely to set it on the table before gingerly plucking the card from your hold and sliding to sit opposite you while dishing out equal amounts of cards between you.

Your eyes light up under the oil lamp's golden hue, studying the flick of his hands as he worked, trying hard not to wander up to his piercing gaze. Afraid he'd immediately see your attraction to his nimble hands, well to him in general, and use it against you somehow, so your focus remains on the hand dealt and not him.

As you both plucked your respective set from the table, studying the cards intently, you asked the singular most crucial question every poker match was built on.

“What will the bets be,” Your innocent inquiry earns sultry laughter from him, filling the air, raising feverish chills on your skin as he stares at you through half-lidded eyes.

“I prefer bargains of the soul, my dear. The use and price of one's existence is always more valuable than money, don't you agree?”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx

A/N: Don't be mad AT ME, GUYS, PLEASE. I HAD EXAMS LAST WEEK. I'm SORRY FOR DROPPING OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH… sort of, but I'm back now (please do hate me :((( ). Uh, so I might merge “Down in the Dust” with this because both stories kinda originated in my brain at the same time. However, since this is a request, I wrote a two-part tangent smut as a sort of prequel to the other fic! Also, the phrase “Save a horse. Ride a cowboy” will be unironically used…I'm sorry (I'm not lol) ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ] VOLUME WARNING!!! 🗣️

Fun fact: In the South, we have a rule that if you take a cowboy hat and end up wearing it, they catch you with it (preferably in the mutual interest of getting to know each other). That cowboy gets to fuck you (hopefully, but technically you're initiating a flirting game wearing their hat, lol). It's a cute concept and one any Cowboy Alastor enthusiast should think about. ❤️ credits to the creator.

[another-lost-mc]

a/n: a continuation of this AU because there's no way they're letting lucifer & co have all the fun.

protecting what matters most | the dateables [the demon brothers]

1.4k words | sfw | gn!Reader

content/warnings: family dynamics and slice of life. fluff and angst, mention of character death and passage of time, mentions of raising children, platonic relationships with the demon brothers and dateables.

— Diavolo considers the pros and cons of allowing Lucifer and his brothers to continue visiting you in the human world after the exchange program ends. You helped lay the foundation for long-lasting peace between the realms, after all. Relations with the Celestial Realm aren't as chilly as they were previously, thanks to the glowing praise and endorsement of Simeon and Luke.

— Diavolo decides that maintaining a positive relationship with you can't do any harm. He also knows that Lucifer asking for permission for his family to visit you is only a formality. He knows they'll find ways to sneak out of the Devildom to see you whether he gives them permission or not.

— Diavolo misses you too, if he's being honest with himself. He remembers you fondly when Barbatos serves him a blend of tea from the human world, or when he scrolls through the gallery on his D.D.D. and comes across photos of you from various parties you attended at his castle. He denies those feelings at first but they're impossible to ignore when Lucifer and his siblings start seeing you on a regular basis. They return to RAD after a short weekend trip to see you and their moods are soaring. They share stories and pictures and videos with him, but it's not the same. They explore the human world with you and get to be part of your short but fulfilling life—who wouldn't be jealous?

— Diavolo contacts you personally and suggests catching up somewhere, just the three of you (of course, Barbatos will be there too). He brings up the possibility of visiting you too, when his busy schedule allows it. He ignores the shifty side-eye that Barbatos shoots him, and you accept his offer eagerly but you're worried about distracting him from his duties. His warm laughter makes you smile, and he reaches for your hand across the table and pats it gently with his own. You didn't think he'd let the brothers keep you all to themselves forever, did you?

— Uncle Dia likes to surprise your children with impromptu visits at seemingly random times. Sometimes Barbatos contacts you in advance to schedule play dates for your family and the Young Master. Diavolo holds your children's hands as he leads them through whatever amusement park or family-friendly outing he's planned. You mention casually that your children are better behaved than Diavolo is at times, and Barbatos nods in silent agreement. There are times when Diavolo arrives on his own, looking a little guilty when he explains he found a fun excursion he thinks your kids would enjoy. Barbatos shows up a few minutes later looking very annoyed that the prince managed to escape his paperwork again. It's too late for Barbatos to drag him away now; even he's not capable of refusing the sad, pleading eyes of your children begging for Uncle Dia to play with them for a little while longer.

— (Diavolo is generous with his gifts for your family. Too generous, despite your protests. Hotel Corvo suites are always available for you to use, all expenses paid for, because it pleases him to know that your family is safe and comfortable when you travel together. He collects a small amount of human world vacation properties that are also available for your family to use whenever you'd like. The demon brothers conveniently plan their own holiday to visit you when you go on vacation. Diavolo joins as well if he can convince Barbatos that they all deserve a break.)

— Your children flock to Uncle Barb (or Bah-Bah when they're very young) like little chicks. He is surprisingly gentle and mild-mannered with all of them, confident in his ability to care for them and infinitely patient with their wide-eyed wonder and innocent curiosity. When they're toddlers, he sits at a child's sized table with them and sips water from a plastic tea cup. He teaches them how to brew tea properly when they're old enough to enjoy it. Some of your favourite photographs are of him and your children baking together in the kitchen, and your youngest braiding dandelions into his hair. To Barbatos, watching your children grow up is like watching the young prince grow up all over again. Being in your family's presence is soothing for his old, weary heart.

— (You tell Barbatos early on that you don't want him to ever tell you about the future. You're not sure what he already knows and you don't want to know. He honours your request to a certain extent. There are rare instances when he shows up unannounced, usually in the late evening or early morning hours. He anticipates your heartache and sleepless nights following the tragedy or misfortune he hoped wouldn't come to pass. He makes tea and sits with you, offering you his company in silent apology for not being able to spare you that pain.)

— Uncle Sol is a menace. He is a somewhat regular visitor at your home and is always eager to lend a hand with the most mundane tasks. He insists that he likes babysitting your children if you need him to, and he's your children's second-favourite babysitter if Uncle Levi can't come over. Yours is the family Solomon will never have, and he considers any opportunity to spend time with you a blessing. He insists on helping you in the kitchen too. You try to ban him from cooking, but your empty threats fall on deaf ears. Sometimes you wake up to the smell of something wafting from the kitchen. He has the decency to look a little guilty when you find him at the stove with one of your children sitting on the counter next to him. It surprises and horrifies you that one of your children loves his cooking. (You don't know now, but each generation of your descendants will have one resilient soul who also loves his food.) Your children learn from a young age one very important rule: if a stranger is in trouble, call the police; if you or your family is in trouble, call Uncle Solomon. For all the headaches and mischief he causes, he never fails to show up when he's needed most.

— (Solomon considers your happiness and safety one of his priorities. You learn after your wedding that nearly every demon gave your spouse some version of the shovel talk, but you’re surprised to learn that Solomon did too—and apparently his was the scariest. You don’t know about all the sneaky ways he helps your family over the years, but he agreed to your one stipulation: no violence in front of the children.)

— Uncle Simmy and Uncle Luke are the best! You're genuinely shocked when they invite you to the café they opened together, located conveniently in your family's hometown. Simeon teaches your children how to cook properly when he visits, and he tells them fantastical stories loosely based on your own adventures in the Devildom. Luke helps your children make sock puppets to act out little plays they all come up with; if Simeon finds a way to include them in his newest volume of TSL, it's his little secret. You don't see the angels as often as the demons. Sometimes they invite your family to enjoy brunch at the café before it opens, or they stop by after a long day to join you for dinner. Luke takes lots of pictures and videos (since Simeon still can't figure that out himself). He shares them with Barbatos who posts them in the special group chat the demons all share for that sole purpose.

— Luke introduces Michael to your family one morning when he happens to be visiting the café the same time that you are. Your children don't hesitate to crowd around his chair and ask him rapid-fire questions about his hair and his pretty clothes and the yummy cake on the table in front of him. He looks between you and your children awkwardly, but he asks Simeon for extra forks so they can have some too. He offers a hesitant smile when he leaves the café nearly an hour later. Starting the year you meet him for the first time, your children receive holiday and birthday gifts from Uncles Simmy, Luke, and Mikey.

— (Each generation passes down old and new photos of the demons, angels and the whimsical sorcerer who cherish and protect your family. Your distant relations point to old photos of Luke, with his cherubic face and small stature, and coo about how cute he was back then. Luke, grown up now and dedicated to his guardianship of your family, blushes and smiles fondly at so many wonderful memories. The moment is short-lived and he grumbles when Simeon ruffles his hair affectionately like he used to.)

[thefrogdalorian]

The Best of Both Worlds

Din Djarin x Female Reader Modern!AU

Summary: When a new Star Wars TV show called The Mandalorian premiered, you found yourself completely enamoured with the titular character. Enjoyment of watching the lone bounty hunter travel through the galaxy quickly turned to obsession. There was just something about the show that captured your imagination. Now, you spend much of your free time — when you're not working a fast-paced, minimum wage and incredibly stressful job at a prestigious London Museum— speaking to your online friends about your love for the show. There's just one thing... Despite how much you love The Mandalorian, no one knows the identity of the man behind the helmet... either in the show, or in real life. You only know him as Mando. No one has ever seen his face, no one knows his name.  Even after the countless hours of speculation from fans online, which even you have occasionally participated in, no one is any the wiser to the identity of the mysterious man who wears the shiny armour.  Surely, given the depth of your love for the show, you'd recognise if the man who you spend so much time obsessing over online was to ever cross paths with you. Right?

Content Warnings: Reader is AFAB, uses she/her pronouns and in her mid 20s. Age gap between her and Din is noted but not really central to the story. Grogu is human, hints of past trauma/child abuse before Din adopted him are mentioned but not described in detail. Some mature scenes later on in the fic but not explicit smut... because I just cannot write x reader smut! Author's Note: SO very excited to finally share this fic! Thank you to the lovely @suresnips for being my beta. I really appreciate you ♡ This baby was originally my NaNoWriMo 2023 project and was inspired by this post from @toxic-seduction that I saw one evening and couldn't stop thinking about! POVs will alternate chapter to chapter from Din to reader. It was fun to write that way! Set in London for a few reasons: partly because I love the movie Notting Hill and it has some of those vibes (if you squint), also, the village where Din lives is based on Elstree Studios just outside London, where the OT was filmed and ultimately because NO WAY was I writing a modern!AU set in the states, it would've been painfully obvious a Brit wrote it. While there are lots of references to places in London, I don't live there so it might not be truly accurate (Londoners don't come for me). Also, to be political for a sec, reader works at the British Museum and I hate that institution. This was actually the line of work I was interested in when I was at Uni but for many different reasons I did not pursue it. However, it works for the plot of this story and as you'll see, she doesn't exactly love it either and goes on a few rants. Just wanted to make that clear that her job there is not an endorsement of it or anything. I can't stand them or their historical apologist bs and I wish we would give back all the things we stole (including the Parthenon Marbles)! Finally, it was incredibly important to me that the actor behind Mando in this fic clearly be the fictional character of Din Djarin rather than the real person Pedro Pascal, because rpf is not my jam! I hope I did that pretty well but just wanted to warn that if you're expecting me to use Din as some kind of way to write a Pedro fic, this won't be for you! Okay, I'll shut up now! This fic is fully written, just needs editing so hopefully I'll get a couple of chapters up each week, but life happens. I'm very proud of this one and I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also if you would like to be added to my taglist for this fic, please let me know! Happy reading ♡

❁ My Masterlist ❁ Read on AO3 ❁

Why Does It Always Rain On Me? [Reader POV]: After a dreadful day which saw you drenched by a rainstorm after leaving a hectic day at work, you reflect on your love for Mando and upcoming excitement for the sci-fi convention you will soon be attending with your internet best friend.

He Is My Only Priority [Din's Pov]: The character of The Mandalorian is known and loved by millions. But there is another, much softer side to the man who portrays him that Din Djarin is determined to keep hidden from the world, despite the challenges that presents for him and his beloved son, Grogu.

This Is Why (I Don't Leave The House) [Reader's POV]: Your internet bestie arrives in preparation for the Star Wars convention you will attend together. Everything is set for the greatest weekend of your life! Until you arrive at the con and find yourself overwhelmed by all the crowds and noise. At least you have numerous incredibly realistic Mando cosplays to distract you from how stressed you feel, and there's one in particular which is uncannily accurate...

Curiosity Killed The Cat [Din's POV]: Despite his reservations and against his better instincts, Din heads to a Star Wars convention that he was invited to. Although he fears that his cover will be blown, curiosity gets the best of Din and he can't resist attending a panel. But Din doesn't exactly find the answers he was looking for. Instead, he finds something far more precious. Something that he would never have expected...

He's So Tall (And Handsome As Hell) [Reader's POV]: Being back in the real world and returning to work after an incredible weekend at the convention where you had so many fun experiences is taking its toll on you. The thought of collapsing on your couch in front of The Mandalorian is the only thing keeping you going. However, the universe has other plans for you. News of an out-of-hours tour for a private client that you are asked to lead almost sends you over the edge, but when you finally meet the man, he is the opposite of what you were expecting. Weirdly, he seems familiar...

With A Little Help From My Friends [Din's POV]: Din returns to the set of The Mandalorian to begin filming a new season. Despite his experience and capability, he finds that he struggles to focus as his thoughts remain firmly fixed on a certain someone...

You're The Sunflower [Reader's POV]: Despite feeling certain that you'll never see the ridiculously handsome man you gave a tour of the museum to, a special delivery is about to change everything...

Your Face Hung Up High In The Gallery [Din's POV]: After a difficult few days of filming The Mandalorian, Din is excited to spend time with you as he finally takes you on your first proper date...

Have I Known You Twenty Seconds or Twenty Years? - (Reader's POV):  Despite a messy evening which led to you waking up in an opulent hotel which you have no memory of falling asleep in, memories of kind brown eyes and breathless kisses soon come flooding back to soothe your soul. Your relationship deepens as the two of you spending time together whenever your busy schedules allow. But one night, a turn of events causes you - despite Din's reassurances - to wonder if everything you have been working so hard to build together has just come crashing down around you...

There's A War Inside Of Me - [Din's POV]: The realities of the secret he is keeping from you begin to weigh heavily on Din's mind and he seeks advice from a certain curly haired co-star on what his next move should be. Things don't go exactly according to plan, not least because of the typically awful English weather...

It Could Be Love, We Could Be The Way Forward - [Reader's POV]: With your respective busy jobs keeping you and Din apart, a mystery date after a hectic day at work is exactly what you needed.

The Calm - [Din's POV]: When filming overruns and conspires to keep Din from the fun weekend he planned for you, he agonises over his decision. Fortunately, he manages to salvage the weekend, even after a calamity involving a rowboat...

The Storm - [Reader's POV]: The happiness you feel in response to a question Din posed to you is somewhat clouded by lingering doubts. Yet your affection for each other helps you to push those emotions down, until a weekend spent at his cottage changes everything...

P.S. - I tried to be inclusive for all body types and skin tones in this fic, but if I missed something, I do apologise. If you do spot something that takes you out of the fic, I am more than happy for constructive criticism as I wouldn't want anyone to be excluded on those grounds. I am always trying to do better and would love to know where I went wrong so I can improve and be more aware of these things going forward, so I would appreciate it if you could let me know if you do spot anything. Thank you so much! ♡

[sugarrrsweett]

On purpose -2

Roman reigns x oc

Lauren is handling her ex-boyfriend from colleges divorce, he and Lori embark on a journey that proves how things happen for reasons. Either hers or his will it work out this time.

Her thoughts are slanted and this is somewhat proofread.

Previous part

This was my last case as a divorce settlement lawyer before I returned to being a prosecuting attorney. When I first went to law school it was to be a criminal attorney but when I graduated I was desperate to get out of debt and get a job so I settled into a smaller firm that paid well and was able to pay off my debt a few years ago but over time every last case became my last until the next one came along. I meant it this time Joe Is my last case and hopefully it's open and shut.

Making my way into the next conference and meeting I had with Joe walking down the long white minimalist halfway, with bright white lighting and pieces of furniture here and there and a mixture between abstract and a kind of Picasso. Opening the big gray painted white oak door laying eyes on the tall, brown eyes that I hadn’t seen in damn near twenty years, his hair was wrapped in a military style bun with his salt and pepper beard and he smelt more than heavenly when he reached in for a hug before we broke apart. I watched him drink in my grown woman's body. I hadn’t always had the curvy of curves but after college my grown woman body really settled in and I was more than in love with myself.

“Hello Joe, can you give me a bit of background or insight into your marriage over the last few years?” I said sitting down getting right into it sitting himself across from me and the polished oak table that matched the door. Looking back and forth between Joe and my pen and notepad as I waited for him to answer the question.

“Hi Lori, I'm doing great thank you for asking, haven't seen you in a while but that's okay.” he said sarcastically, having a conversation with himself using a bland tone before seeing my face and sitting up clearing his throat. “It was amazing the last few years but i've been working a lot between the traveling and long distance she couldn’t handle it and wanted to divorce about three years ago but I wanted to save us and suggested counseling and that i'd cut back on working and for about seven or so months it worked and everything was blissful but then I got an amazing storyline and it projected my career up and i started making more money but then i was way for way longer and we barely got to see each other and a few months ago she served me and said it was over and she didn’t want to try again.” he listed I wouldn’t dare and say I knew him because he’d changed so much since since id last seen him but i could see sadness in his eyes when he listed off the last few years with his wife Juile.

“Okay so what do you do for work?” I asked, jotting everything he’d just told me.

“I'm a wrestler, including endorsements of at least five million more if I book a lot.” he told me

“Okay and your wife wasn’t able to travel with you?” I asked him looking up.

“No, she gets sick in a car long distance and she works as a trauma surgeon so it’s hard for her to take time.” he explained watching me write it down, before asking my next question i made sure to make direct eye contact with him. “Did you at one point or another cheat on your wife with anyone whether that be emotionally or physically? I need you to be very honest with me.” I asked, waiting for something to change to tell if he was lying. At this point Joe had spoken with firmness in his tone and kept his answers short but detailed.

“No, because i was working so much i was too tired for sex at the end of most days.” he said staying firm with his tone and maintaining eye contact not seeming nervous at all.

“Okay and I don’t expect you to know this but did she at some point cheat on you in any way?” I asked keeping the same vibe, not one of tension but honest and open.

“No, she didn’t” continuing to answer firmly.

“Okay, and during the counsouling what was the conversation like?” i said counting to ask my normal oeping questions.

“Same things i just said working long and late and she felt like we weren’t married anymore and she felt neglected.” he reiterated

“And finally do you have any children?” I asked him

“Five, two set of twins four and six and a older daughter who just made fifteen.” he said making my eyes slightly bulge out of their sockets.

Damn

Hearing his deep chest laugh

“Sorry its just damn anyhow is there anything else i should know?” I asked him.

“No” he quickly gave

“Okay we’ll be intouch and figure out numbers and settlement later it seems like you both are ready to move on, this should be finialized by nexty month.” I said walking him out the door wanting to get the day over with.

Finally getting home just after ten o’clock I was beyond worn out and itching for a bubble bath, unlocking my front door hearing the automated voice announcing my arrival, my mother was standing in my kitchen over the stove.

“Momma, whatcha doing here?” I asked her sitting my briefcase down and stepping out of my heels my height dropping as I took them off one by one. Standing over with her hands in her hips looking at me some kind of way.

“Is that how you speak to someone let alone your momma?” She said with her ‘fix yourself tone’.

“Where Joe?” She asked looking behind where I was sitting and into the walk way.

“At home probably” I said standing and looking through the pot seeing chicken that hasn’t been fried yet as well as red beans with sausage and rice on the stove.

“I told you mama we’re not just going to fall out of the sky into a relationship, I’m just his divorce attorney.” I told her leaving the kitchen to go into my room and take my bath for bed.

Turning the faucet on and filling the tub floor with bubble solution slipping out of my clothes and into the water feeling the water warm and the bubble form on and around my wet body. Taking in a deep breath peacefully before my momma busted into the bathroom.

“Momma!” I said frantically gathering the bubbles to cover me before she smacked her teeth at me and with a wave of her hand said.

“Girl I’ve seen every crevice of your body you ain’t special.” She said sending a small ping to my heart but nonetheless shaking it off.

“That doesn’t matter, momma I’m grown you can’t do that.” I pouted at her. “God why does she always make me feel like a child”

“You worried about the wrong things you need to worry about how you gonna get Joe back, he’s doing more than well for himself with his play fighting.” She pointed

“What happened to this all being immature and besides that was a long time ago.” I said sinking I to the bath wanting her and this conversation to stop.

“Girl money is forever don’t be dumb now I’m going to finish the food and be on my way since you wanna act like you don’t care about nobody.” She said with an attitude walking off. Which made me sigh and just lay there and enjoy the warmth.

Getting out of the tub sometime later I dried my body off and did my nightly routine, slipping into a big tee-shirt before dipping into the kitchen for some food seeing a plate made and everything else cleaned up. Eating my food I thought about yet another guilting conversation with my momma.

I didn’t understand why she flipped from mommy dearest to getting like that. Finishing up and putting away my dish I slipped into bed and allowed sleep to take me.

-