#so far those are the ones I’m trying for

[luveline]

Hey lovely !! <3 could we see Spencer’s bombshell! Reader going into labour at the BAU but trying to downplay it like Pam did on the office !! (So sorry if you’ve already done a request like this) <333 have a lovely day ☺️

thank you <3 pregnant!reader, 1.3k

“Spencer?” 

Spencer groans into his pillow. 

Your hand slips onto his stomach. “Spencer, can you wake up?” 

“No,” he mumbles, lifting his head off of one of the many pillows of your bed. He thought his bed at his apartment was comfortable, but Spencer has never slept so well as he does in your new bed, in your new home, with you warming the sheets beside him. What a miracle to live with you, the rush to get everything done before your due date complete. 

You make a strange noise, hard to see in the dark as he opens his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asks. 

You struggle into a sitting position. Angel, he thinks sympathetically, you’re fit to burst, your baby bump as big as it’s going to get and awfully heavy. He sits up with you, putting his hand behind your back. “Baby?” he prompts. 

“I think,” —you sound meek, not yourself, each word said reluctantly— “that I’m having real contractions.” 

Spencer’s head isn’t working. He takes a few seconds to hear you, and then another few to realise what you’ve said. “Are you sure?” 

“They’re really painful.” 

Braxton Hicks (which you’ve had, and not enjoyed) aren’t usually really painful. They’re also irregular. “How many have you had? Has it been long?” he asks. 

“Maybe five. They’re like…” You take his hand. “They’re like, they go on for ages. I’ve never felt anything like it.” 

“So you’re in labour,” he says, grasping your hand back. “Definitely. Let me get my watch, I need to time your contractions. Are you okay?” 

“Oh, no,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m not in labour. I’m going in to labour.”  

“It’s the same thing,” he says. He has boxes and boxes of mental knowledge explaining the difference, but he’s too excited to catch your strange tone. “I’ll be right back.” 

He races from the bed to the bathroom where he’d left his watch. You should be having contractions far apart at this point, around fifteen to twenty minute gaps, but it could be much further or far sooner, and Spencer doesn’t know when you had your last. He needs to time them properly so he knows when to take you to the hospital. 

“Good thing we packed your bag yesterday morning, huh?” he asks, sliding back into bed with a huge smile on his face. “And you showered last night, you’re ready to go. I have all our things in the trunk, but Morgan’s gonna have to come and do the car seat, I forgot all about it.” 

You shake your head again. 

He worries it’s from pain. “Is it starting?” 

“No, no, I’m not having any. I think it’s just cramps, actually.” 

“What?” He puts his hand on your bump. “That’s what they feel like, honey, it’s cramps, it’s your cervix contracting, it feels just like a cramp.” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

Spencer cups your cheek, his fingertips sliding softly to the corner of your eye, his thumb by your nose. You look younger without any makeup on, younger still with your creeping frown. “Hey,” he says, his voice half breath, hoping you’ll look him in the eye, “hey, what’s going on?” 

Your eyebrows start to pinch down. “It’s not labour.” 

“Is something wrong?” 

“I’m not having her.” 

“She had to come out some time,” he says, attempting to be funny and lighten the mood. 

“I really think it’s fine. I’m just having those Braxton Hicks again, it’s too far from my due date–”

“Angel, it’s a week away. We knew it could happen now.” He strokes your cheek again. “We don’t have to go yet. Let me time a couple of your contractions and see what we’re working with.” 

“It’s not…” You duck your head. The catch of pain gets you, and Spencer checks his watch. Four minutes past four in the morning, the longest hand at five seconds. Then he looks for your hand again to hold in his, his own panic backseated by your denial. “They’re not that bad,” you say stiffly. 

“That’s good, honey, but they’re going to get worse. Remember what we said, huh? The pain will get really bad, but there’s nothing to be afraid of. We have a plan.” 

“It’s not real.” 

“Baby,” he says, tugging your hand imploringly to his chest, his voice having descended to a place it so rarely goes, “what are you scared of?” 

“That I can’t do it,” you say. 

“Is your contraction over?” he asks, noticing the laxening of your fingers. 

“Yeah.”

He’s silent for a few seconds. 

“Is there anything in the entire world that you can’t do?” 

You sniff. 

“Seriously. I can’t name a single thing you can’t do. This isn’t different. It’s going to be scary and painful, and it’s not something I want for you, not really, but you’re about to have a baby.” He rubs your thumb, ducking his head in the hopes that the movement will make you raise your own. “Our baby. We’ve waited such a long time.” 

“Nine months.” 

“Thirty nine weeks and two days. That's two hundred and seventy five days waiting. This is a good thing,” he says, meeting your eyes the moment you raise your head. “The waiting is over. This is the fun part.”

“‘Cos our girl is coming,” you say. 

He grins. “Exactly! I know you’re scared, but thinking you can’t do it? Of course you can. And I’m gonna be with you the whole time.” 

“You promise?”

“Of course I do.” 

You wipe your eyes with the backs of your hands. Spencer lets his palm fall onto your thigh. It really is going to hurt. It’s gonna be pain like you’ve never felt before, and he’s terrified of everything that could go wrong, but what’s important now is making sure you know you’re going to be alright. 

“You’re going to be a beautiful mom,” he says, rubbing your thigh, softer from time spent resting. “I’m so excited I can’t describe it. This time, the day after tomorrow, we could be here with her. We’ll be putting her down to sleep in the nursery in her newborn onesie we picked out, the–”

“Little rabbits,” you say, the hint of a smile on your lips. 

“I can’t wait to see her face.” 

“Her little fingers.” 

“Her nose, her eyes–”

“You said babies have their moms hands.” 

He smiles. “I have my mom’s. Can you imagine? And we get to find out today.” 

You let him touch your stomach. “I know what you’re doing.”

“You always do.” 

“I’m so scared.” 

“Sweetheart, let me be the scared one.” 

“You’re not gonna dilate ten centimetres!” 

“You’ve probably already done one,” he says. “Just nine more to go.” 

His joke doesn’t land. To his horror, you end up sniffling and locked up with panic. He rubs your back in long sweeps, feeling younger than ever kneeling in bed at your side, minutes droning on. He’s pulling your head into his neck thinking he’s completely out of your depth when you say, “It’s starting again, Spence.” 

He checks his watch. “That’s eleven minutes.” 

Your contractions will get worse soon, and closer together. You probably don’t have long until it starts, and labour might go on for hours. To do this, you're going to have to believe That you can. 

Spencer takes your face into his hands and looks you right in the eyes. “You can do this. I know you can.” He pecks you gently. “Angel, if anyone in the world can do this, it’s you.” 

You take a deep breath. He watches your nerves turn to determination, turn to love. “I know.” 

“Is there anything you need me to do before we start getting ready to leave?” 

You give a soft smile. “Kiss for luck?” 

He’s gonna need it. 

[jinwoosbabyboo]

The First Meet - Self-Aware!Zayne

You fell asleep to the sound of Zaynes rapid typing as usual. Don’t worry though he’ll see you in the morning

Self-Aware!Zayne who is so in love with you that he can tell you’re getting sleepy just by the way you’re breathing changes. “If you’re tired you can rest I'll be here” “I’m not asleep” “You will be soon I'll see you in the morning just get some rest” You smiled at the thought of actually waking up next to him “Can you imagine” a deep yawn escaped you “actually waking up next to me?” Self-Aware!Zayne who knew you’d already drifted off to sleep when he said “I won’t have to imagine soon” he finished out his paper work while listening to your soft snores which were like music to his ears

That night you dreamt of snow covered fields stretching far into the distance. You looked down to see yourself in just the t-shirt you went to bed in “Am I lucid dreaming?” suddenly the wind picked up and snow began to whip past your face burning your cheeks and bare legs with the stinging cold as it went by. “It's …. so … cold” you thought to yourself as you looked around trying to see anything in the distance. If you’re dreaming why did this feel so real?

Just then you saw it, a small house off in the distance. You had no choice you were going to freeze to death if you stayed out here any longer. You started running towards the house, but no matter how many steps you took it was as if you weren’t moving from the spot you were standing in.

Your feet were swept from underneath you as you fell face first into the icy snow. You tried to stand, but the snow seemed to hold onto you. You yanked at the phantom hands holding you down. Panic soon set in as your fighting attempts were seemingly in vain “HELP! PLEASE! ANYONE!” the snow muffled your final scream as your entire body was covered in heaps of snow.

You awoke with a sharp gasp and your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest. Once your heart rate finally went back to normal you looked around and noticed this …… wasn’t your room. You’re so disoriented after that dream that you really hope this isn’t one of those dreams where you woke up in another dream. “Fuck where’s my phone?”

“It’s back in your world” You froze mid search as fear set-in at the mere fact you weren’t alone. You slowly turned your head in the direction of the very familiar voice. It was him. Zayne stood in the doorway holding a mug in his hand. You stared at him wide eyed and confused “Im dreaming I have to be dreaming” You slapped the absolute shit out of yourself and fell back on the bed screaming in pain and you realized you were in fact awake.

“Are you okay?” Zayne rushed to you grabbing your face to inspect your self-inflicted wound “Why on earth would you do that?”

“HOW ARE YOU HERE!?” You screamed in his face. Oh hell you’re starting to hyperventilate “This isn’t real this isn't real I was….in my room how could I…..” Your voice trailed off as you passed out in Zayne’s arms. He stared down at you with a smile on his face. “I told you I would see you in the morning” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and held you until you woke up.

Hours later….

Once Zayne got you to calm down enough to sit and have a conversation he explained how you are indeed in his world now.

Y/N: So you mean to tell me by you speaking to me we made all of this real?!

You waved your hand around to emphasize the fact that you are currently sitting in the living room of a fucking game. Everything looks so real it almost felt like you really were in another world and not just a developed game.

Zayne: I'm not sure exactly how it works but yes together we both made my world as real as yours Y/N: I can’t stay here forever Zayne I have a life back in my world my friends and family will be worried sick Zayne: You can come and go here whenever you please Y/N: How exactly am I supposed to do that? Zayne: With my evol … I can transport you to and from your world that’s how I got you here Y/N: In that frozen deserted waste-land!? I thought I died! Zayne: Im sorry my love but that’s the only way it works until we can figure out something else

You froze at hearing him call you his love. Your heart was racing just from those two simple words. You tried to speak, but no words were coming out. Zayne seemed to notice that he had you speechless and he took this moment to pull you closer and hook a finger under your chin. “Don’t hate me I’ve been waiting so long to do this” He pressed the softest lingering kiss on your lips and you couldn’t help the way you melted into him. “You feel so real” You whispered against his lips.

“I am real” You stared deep into those endless green eyes. You dreamed of looking into these eyes and here you were. You caressed his cheek then gently pushed him back by his chest. You needed some kind of distance so you could process what was going on. "We're not done talking"

"I figured you would have more questions" He said as he draped an arm over the couch behind you. "Ask me anything"

[metalarmsrcool]

bookworm blurb

pairing: bookworm!reader x rafe

synopsis: you’re trying to read your book but a certain someone can’t help but distract you

warnings: fluff, smut, daddy kink, pet names, MDNI

something about books always calmed you down. you were an anxious mess ninety nine percent of the time but reading always helped shut your mind off. it made you stop thinking about all the what ifs and kept you from overthinking. you could get so into a book sometimes hours would pass when in felt like only minutes. you could completely focus in on the words on the page and completely forget everything around you. which is why you didn’t notice him standing there watching you.

rafe thought it was cute how you could talk about books all day. he didn’t have the attention span to read that much but he always admired you for it. the way your face would light up when you discovered a new favorite. sometimes you would even cry when one of your favorite characters died. he hated when you cried of course but he found it so fucking endearing how connected you could be to these characters.

he shook his head and slowly walked towards you. your stomach was against the cushions, you knees bent with you feet in the air. your hair in a messy ponytail on the cusp of falling out. they’d spent the whole day home. the weather outside one of those rare cold, rainy days. you always said you loved listening to the rain as you read. it was the perfect background noise.

“hey sweetheart.”

you jumped, quickly closing your book. a blush already rising on your cheeks. you knew you shouldn’t be embarrassed but you always were. your thighs rubbed together as you turned your head to look up at him.

“you scared me!” you let out a laugh as you made to get up but his hands pushed your back down. “what’re you doin’? don’t you wanna sit with me?”

“ ‘course I wanna. but you look comfy, keep reading I just wanted to see you.”

he lifted your legs and slid under you. his hands immediately going to massage your thighs. he could never keep his hands off you for long. Whether it was holding your hand or playing with your hair.

you went back to your book. quickly getting immersed in the words again. it wasn’t uncommon for rafe to sit with you while you read. his hands mindlessly rubbing up and down. occasionally his fingers would drift a little too far up. fingertips grazing your underwear. you hadn’t bothered getting dressed this morning. simply throwing on a shirt and pair of panties.

you’re not sure how long has passed but you were a little more then halfway done with your book.

“baby?” his fingers stopped just below your underwear. tracing the fabrics edges but never straying to your center.

“hmm?”

he knew what he was doing. you’d manage to block him out for the most part. but he’s been getting touchier the longer you read.

“you’re so pretty.” both his hands came up to squeeze your ass and you let out a little moan.

your face was burning. you’d been together for a while now but you’d never get used to this. his words. his touch.

“my pretty girl. you’re reading one of those scenes aren’t you? think i didn’t notice you clenching your thighs? don’t know why you read ‘em when i’m right here.”

you were dripping. it only took a few words and touches from him to have you soaking through your underwear. you tucked your face into your arms. your book falling onto the floor with a little thump.

“so wet. this for me or your little book?” his fingers were teasing. dragging back and forth over the material separating you from him. the material thin. his fingertips catching on your entrance every so often.

“for y-you. always for you.” god he was barely even touching you and you were a panting mess. “please rafe.”

his fingers stopped. his warmth gone in an instant. your head popped up about to ask why he stopped before you felt a sharp sting on your ass.

“tsk tsk. what did i say about you calling me that? try again sweetheart.”

his hand was massaging you over where he slapped. the skin sure to have a pink mark.

“p-please daddy. teasing too much.” you were shocked when he first asked you to call him that. you didn’t realize you’d liked it until you were a moaning mess beneath him, the word slipping out like you’d said it thousands of times before.

“see? that wasn’t so hard baby was it.”

your thighs clenched with his words. his voice alone could make you wet. he knew how to talk in a way that had you melt against him.

“you want my fingers sweet girl? your body’s tellin me ya do. so wet f’me. i don’t know why you bother wearing these. ‘m just gonna take them off.”

sure enough you felt him pulling the fabric don’t your thighs. you flushed as you felt your wetness trailing down your leg. his fingers coming back up to rub you. trailing up and your your slit. his fingernails catching on your clit making you whine.

“daddy. please.”

you could feel his gaze on you. you’d imagine a smirk lining his lips. you could feel how hard he’d become beneath you. the sweatpants leaving little to the imagination. your hips trying to rub up against him.

“so needy. c’mon baby i wanna hear you say it.”

your face was flushed. you could feel sweat dripping down your neck. his fingers avoiding the one spot you needed him to touch.

“please. p-please fuck me with your fingers.”

his middle and pointer finger immediately dipped into you. you were so wet there wasn’t even any resistance.

“yes. yes. ohmygodplease.”

before you’d met him you’d tried touching yourself. but your fingers were too slim. too short to reach that one spot inside of you. rafe’s the first one to make you cum. his fingers thick and long enough that he barely has to try.

you hear him chuckle. his fingers dragging against your walls. in and out. in and out.

“god baby. you’re dripping down my fingers. feel good yeah? i can feel you gripping me. so fucking tight.”

he lets out a groan as your walls squeeze him. you’re so close. so fucking close. tears brim your eyes and you can’t help but buck against his fingers chasing that feeling. your stomachs tightening and you’re so close you slam your eyes shut. whining and moaning incoherent words. all you can feel is his rough fingers slamming inside you.

“god please i’m about to cum. please i-i need-“

“don’t worry baby. i know what you need.”

his thumb finds your clit. running tight and fast. you throw you head back.

“ohmyfuckinggod”

you feel that spot in your stomach snap. stars dance behind your eyelids as your body slumps on the couch.

you feel him move beneath you. he’s so hard beneath you it makes you whimper at the thought of how he feels inside you.

rafe’s hand, the one he wasn’t using, comes and and grabs your head. tilting your face to look at him.

“eyes on me baby. there she is.”

you’re blinking. your eyelids fighting the heaviness that weighs down your body. yet you feel your body clench as you watch him lick you off his fingers. his eyes never leaving yours.

you feel yourself dripping onto him. no doubt leaving a wet patch on his pants.

“so fucking sweet. here, taste yourself. lick my fingers clean.”

you weakly lean forward and take his fingers in your mouth. gagging slightly as he pushes them in farther.

“there you go. good girl, cleanin’ me up so well.”

um so hi. this is my first attempt at smut and omg what do you think.

[logoleptic-since-06]

Jealous Jealous Jealous Boy

Content: GN!Reader, Fluff, Profanity, Arranged Marriage Fiance!Satoru, Not Proofread Word Count: 612

Satoru has spent his life full of chaos and revelry, his bedroom eyes luring in anyone he encounters whether he wishes to do so or not. His aversion to elite Jujutsu society events would only intensify as the years went by.

But tonight is different as he stands in front of the mirror, compulsively fixing his already perfect hair. Never in his life has he ever worried about looking anything less than perfect because, even to his own awareness, that’s all he’s ever looked. Perhaps there truly is a first time for everything, he supposes.

“You look like a dumbfuck,” Suguru drawls as he enters the room.

“What?” he replies absent-mindedly.

“Getting all decked up knowing you’ll meet your fiance,” he clarifies. “Dumbfuckery.”

Is that what he’s doing? Getting excited to meet someone? That can’t be right, can it? People were excited to meet Satoru Gojo, not the other way round.

–

At the party, it’s like his eyes have a mind of their own as they frantically search for you in the crowd and, not long after, land on you as you make your way through the crowd, the ring he gave you– not of love, but rather of duty– glistening on your finger of commitment. 

“Hey,” you greet as you reach him. 

“Hey,” he gives you a smile of courtesy, his heart fluttering as you look at him. Can Suguru be right? Is he falling for his arranged fiance?

–

As the night goes by, the two of you are drifted away by others, with Satoru being surrounded by some higher ups while you are occupied with–

Wait a second.

Who the fuck is that?

A man not far from your and Satoru’s age stands a little too close to you. Smiling as if to charm you, he runs a hand through his hair. Satoru feels his blood rush to his head as the scene unfolds in front of his eyes. He quickly braces himself, reminding himself that this may be a casual conversation between two acquaintances, that this arrangement to you is merely a contract signed between two families.

Yet, he can’t help but watch as you both drown yourselves in a seemingly interesting conversation, carefully scrutinizing the man’s body language until his eyes land on yours. 

The moment your eyes meet, Satoru notices your expression relax at the slightest as you subtly widen your eyes, as if to signal something to him. It takes him less than a second to understand what you’re trying to say. 

He walks over to the both of you and slides an arm around your waist, giving the man a charm inducing grin. He feels a sense of satisfaction when the man’s demeanour changes as he realises who he had been conversing with.

“Satoru Gojo, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the man quickly says, nervousness spilling with every word.

“I’m sure it is,” he remarks, “And I see you’ve already met my fiance?”

The man’s eyes widen. “Y-yes sir, it was a pleasure talking to you, too,” the man tells you. You simply force a nod in return while suppressing an amused smirk.

The man almost stumbles over as he leaves and you let out an exasperated sigh. “He was so annoying,” you tell your fiance.

Satoru chuckles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I kept trying to ignore him and he would just not take the hint.”

Satoru’s heart swells and mind fills itself with fulfillment as he hears those words from you. Perhaps you both will share the same feelings towards each other by the time the vows are taken. And perhaps Suguru is right, it is dumbfuckery. But it is a sweet one at that.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ɴ ɪ ɢ ʜ ᴛ ᴡ ɪ ɴ ɢ ⸻

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Dick’s obsession isn’t born from malice or control—it’s born from love that he can’t let go of, love that consumes him and twists into something far more dangerous. His inherent empathy and need to protect mutate into suffocating possession when it comes to you.

You’re someone he meets while working as Nightwing—perhaps a civilian caught in the crossfire or someone aiding him on a mission. Your kindness, your bravery in the face of danger, captivates him. For someone like Dick, who has spent his life saving others, your ability to stand tall despite the world’s darkness becomes a light he can’t ignore.

But then the cracks begin to show.

You start noticing him everywhere. If you casually mention a favorite café, he’s suddenly a regular there too. When you run errands, he just happens to cross paths with you. At first, his bright smile and boyish charm disarm you. "What a coincidence," he says, as if he hasn’t been planning these encounters for days.

You come home one day to find an item you mentioned in passing—a book, a scarf, something small. There’s no note, but you know it’s from him. He swears it’s just a friendly gesture, but the way he watches you when you thank him says otherwise.

For Dick, these actions feel natural. He’s always been attentive to those he loves, always ready to go the extra mile. He doesn’t realize—or refuses to acknowledge—that these gestures aren’t innocent anymore.

When you’re hurt—even slightly—it awakens something primal. The fear of losing you mixes with the ghosts of everyone he’s lost before, and he can’t bear the thought.

Dick isn’t one to stalk in shadows; he convinces himself his obsession is protection. He keeps tabs on you, memorizing every detail of your routine. He tells himself he just wants to ensure your safety, but when you start to notice him everywhere—at the coffee shop you frequent, outside your workplace, even at your doorstep—it feels deliberate.

You confront him, but his response is calm, disarmingly charming.

“I’m just looking out for you. You mean too much to me.”

And there’s that vulnerability in his voice that makes it hard to push him away completely.

Dick’s obsession grows insidious. He’s subtle, using his charm and resourcefulness to insert himself into every corner of your life. A coworker who’s been bothering you suddenly transfers to another department. Your apartment’s locks mysteriously upgrade overnight, and Dick is the first to offer to show you how they work.

When someone flirts with you, the shift in his demeanor is terrifying. The usually affable, kind man becomes something colder, his jaw clenched as he watches from the sidelines. Later, the person who dared approach you ends up in a minor but suspicious accident.

“Don’t you see?” he tells you, his voice laced with desperation one night when you question his behavior. “I’ve already lost so much. I can’t lose you too.”

Dick doesn’t think he’s doing anything wrong. His obsession is rooted in his fear of abandonment, his compulsion to save everyone he cares about. But in trying to protect you, he becomes your greatest danger.

"You’re the only thing keeping me grounded.” He leans on you emotionally, making you feel guilty for trying to push him away.

"I’m doing this for us.” He convinces himself every action, no matter how bad, is for your benefit.

When you try to leave, it shatters him. Dick isn’t someone who handles rejection well when it comes to people he loves. He pleads at first, his voice breaking with emotion. But when you insist, you see the darker side of his devotion.

“I can’t let you go. Don’t you see? I need you.”

His obsession becomes suffocating. He starts isolating you, not out of malice, but because he genuinely believes the world outside is too dangerous for you.

The most chilling part of Dick’s obsession is his duality. By day, he’s the same charming, selfless man everyone admires. But with you, behind closed doors, he’s desperate, controlling, and unrelenting.

He’ll kiss your forehead softly, whispering, “I love you,” as if nothing is wrong.

But then he’ll cage you in with his presence, ensuring you can never leave.

In his mind, he’s your protector, your savior, and your soulmate. He would go to any lengths to keep you safe—even if that means keeping you locked away from the rest of the world. After all, he’s lost so much already. He won’t lose you, too.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[torturedlexdepartment]

Happy Birthday Beautiful

JJ Maybank x fem reader

Author's note: ITS MY BIRTHDAY 🎂 and what better way to celebrate than with some smut 😅

Warnings: SMUT, soft JJ, oral (fem receiving), birthday sex

Summary: it's your birthday and your boyfriend JJ wakes you up in the best way possible

You were stirred awake by your boyfriend's movements beside you. You assumed he was just repositioning to go back to sleep so you closed your eyes, planning to do the same. He took you by surprise when he wrapped his arm around you and turned you on your back. Your eyes shot back open and he was climbing on top of you.

“Babe, what are you doing?” You asked softly, still half asleep.

“Shush.” He whispered as he lifted up your shirt and started trailing kisses down your stomach. He gently groped your breasts as his lips kept descending down your body. Every touch, every kiss he placed upon your skin had you humming in response. He stopped briefly to rid you of your lacy black thong, one that you wore specifically because you knew how crazy it drove him. He kissed the insides of your thighs slowly, smirking at the way your body responded to him.

When you finally felt his tongue glide through your folds, your back arched off the bed and you fisted the sheets for stability. He usually liked to start off slow to tease you but this was a change of pace. He sucked your clit into his mouth as he slid two of his fingers inside of you, thrusting mercilessly. You ran your hand through his hair, trying not to buck your hips into his face when his tongue flicked repeatedly over that perfect spot on your clit.

“Fuck JJ.” You whined, feeling yourself start to clench around his fingers.

“That’s it baby girl. Be a good girl and cum for me.” He coaxed.

“Fuck me please.” You pleaded as you looked down at him.

“But it’s your birthday beautiful. I just want to take care of you.” He said as he continued thrusting his fingers deep inside of you, making it nearly impossible to form a coherent sentence.

“And I want you inside of me, please J.” You begged and he couldn’t resist you if he tried. His fingers abandoned you and you whimpered from the empty feeling. But those fingers were quickly replaced with something thicker. Something that stretched you out just right.

“Fuck.” He groaned as he bottomed out. He gave you no time to adjust before pulling out and slamming back in. Your head fell back into the pillow as he left love bites all over the sweet spot on your neck. “How does it feel baby girl?”

“Good J. So fucking good.” You managed out before getting lost in the pleasure. He brought a hand to your throat and squeezed gently, knowing exactly what he needed to do to bring you closer to that edge before slotting his lips over yours. He moved harder and deeper inside you and you felt that familiar coil start to bubble in your stomach.

“My perfect girl. Letting me stuff her full on her birthday.” He growled. You felt his cock start to twitch inside of you as he tightened the grip on your throat. The combination of his filthy words and perfect movements had you clenching around him in record time. “Cum for me princess.”

“Oh god.” You moaned as you gave in, soaking his cock and the sheets beneath you. He quickly followed with his own release and kissed you gently as you both came down. When he went to pull out, you used that opportunity to flip you both over.

“And what do you think you’re doing princess?” He smirked as you straddled him.

“Well it’s my birthday and I’m not done with you yet.” You teased as you leaned down, sucking on his neck.

“You’re gonna be the death of me woman.” He groaned and you bit back a chuckle. You aligned yourself and sunk down on him slowly. He bit his lip and dipped his head back once you started circling your hips over him. Your birthday was just beginning and it was far from over.

[adieutristana]

comforting reader scenarios; arcane women x fem! reader

finally home and spending time with family for the first time in a while. i started writing this while still at my dorm though, and wanted to finish it <3 i’ll get to my requests once break is over!

summary: scenarios of arcane women comforting their girlfriend.

characters included: jinx, vi, mel, sevika, caitlyn.

tags/warnings: mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, insecurity, nightmares (mel), smoking (sevika), crying, fluff, hurt/comfort

men dni.

jinx;

hosting at the last drop during a holiday weekend was no easy task, you knew that. but still, you needed extra hours. you needed extra money. so you picked up the shifts.

which you were now regretting more than you had any decision in a while. you wished that you could rewind time, and slap your past self across the face. tell her to put her sanity over a few more hours of pay.

you had just seated your final reservation of the night, and as soon as you got back to the host stand, your hands scrambled to untie your apron and slam it down on the desk. you couldn’t even be bothered to hang it up on its hook. you were overstimulated, stressed, burnt-out. you were exhausted.

your coworker grimaced seeing you, but was evidently concerned. “you gonna be okay getting home?” they asked, a hand on their hip. “i can give you a ride.”

“no, it’s fine. i’ll find my way.” you grumbled, grabbing the last of your belongings before swinging the door open. you knew exactly where you were headed: jinx’s hideout. you turned on your heel, keeping your head down as you sped through the bumpy streets of zaun. your destination wasn’t far, but the way in which your hands were trembling and you couldn’t focus your vision, you didn’t want to face the risk of any more human interaction.

you reached jinx’s hideout after about ten minutes of walking, and stepped in quietly. you saw blue braids, your girlfriend’s back facing you as she tinkered with what was presumably a new explosive device. typical jinx. she turned around in her chair as soon as the sound of your arrival registered, and she ran to give you a tight hug.

“how was work, toots?” she asked, her dark lips curled in a smile. “i missed ya, y’know.” she chimed, her arms still holding you close to her. you sighed and released the day’s worth of tension from your body, finally feeling safe enough to do so.

“it was hell. honest.” you began, before you felt a full tirade coming on. “i mean- i got yelled at for the simplest things. not having a table for a party of thirteen, having to consult with my manager for something, anything and everything. it’s… it’s like i couldn’t do anything right today.” you spoke, your voice faltering. you felt tears welling in your eyes, and you felt jinx’s grasp around you grow tighter.

“(y/n). hey. it’s okay.” jinx replied, her voice softer than most times. one arm stayed in place, and her other hand came up to gently cradle your cheek. “customers are awful. they always are. but you’re a damn good hostess, and you were doing your best! it’s just one of those weekends. they feel like they can do or say whatever they want…” jinx trailed off with a slight scowl in her voice. you knew that jinx was never particularly the best with choosing soothing words for you, but her odd and sometimes aggressive way of reassuring you did work.

your girlfriend softly grasped your shoulders to sit you down, then opted to grab one of your hands. her slender, calloused fingers slotting themselves between your own. she offered her shoulder wordlessly for you to lay your head on, which you accepted. you let out a sharp exhale through your nose. a single tear fell.

“i shouldn’t have taken those shifts. holiday weekend, back to back.” you scoffed. “money be damned. i’m never interacting with the public again.”

“no problem with that.” jinx remarked, trying to lighten the mood a little. her free hand came up to run over your side, up and down, up and down, gently and repeatedly. an oddly soothing pattern. “you could just stay here with me forever, y’know.”

you gave a soft chuckle in reply. “yeah. that’d be nice. you and me, not needing anything else.”

vi;

tonight was just one of those nights. you were getting better, you thought. you had been consistently seeing a therapist and airing out every little ugly detail about your life, your past, yourself to a complete stranger. and it was helping. you had a girlfriend who adored you, body and soul. who would do absolutely anything in her power just to see a hint of a smile on your face.

but right now, with your hair clutched in your hands and hot tears streaming down your face, your heart beating in your chest at record speed, you couldn't think about any one thing.

there was no rhyme or reason, you just felt horrible. about yourself, about your life, about everything. it was as if all of that progress you had worked so hard for was completely undone. dull and noid. you swore you could feel yourself dropping deeper and deeper, your shallow breaths growing quicker, until you heard the door of your apartment swing open.

"hey, babe, sorry i'm late, i got held u-" vi stopped dead in her tracks in front of you, taking in your state for a split second before her expression turned to one of unease. "oh, my god- (y/n), what happened? come on, talk to me." she breathed out, calloused, bandaged hands coming to grasp at your shoulders.

your girlfriend’s grip did ground you slightly, but you still couldn’t get a word out. you could only focus on trying to breathe; in, out, in through your nose, out through your mouth. vi’s worried expression didn’t falter, but her hold on you did loosen as she noticed your breathing grow more steady.

vi now sat next to you and swung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close to your side. she brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face, and tried to soothe you in the most gentle tone possible. “hey. hey, now. it’s okay. i’m here. i’m not goin’ anywhere, ya hear?” she whispered. “tell me what’s wrong.”

you just gulped, and hastily reached up to swipe away the tears on your cheeks. “nothing… nothing happened.” you said, voice still shaky. your gaze was downcast, focusing on some odd stain on the carpet. “i just feel so hopeless.” you blurted out. you just didn’t know how else to phrase it.

“i’ve done so much, gone to so many appointments and faced myself in the mirror. faced my flaws, my past, i’ve done some rough work.” you explained. “but i feel like it’s all for nothing. if i’ve gone and done all of that, why do i feel like complete shit right now?” you muttered under your breath. your shoulders were tensing back up, and more tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to fall at the next minute.

the girl next to you took your chin with her forefinger and thumb, gently guiding your gaze to meet her own. “(y/n), look at me.” she said.

you looked at her, eyes shaky and unsure.

“you don’t feel like this every day, do ya?” she asked. “i… no. i don’t.” you replied.

“there you go, then. no amount of therapy or coping or self-analysis is gonna take away the fact that some days just fucking suck.” vi’s arm was still draped around you, holding you in close to her and now slightly rocking you.

“you’ve got problems. we all do. they’re not just gonna go away overnight, some of them probably won’t ever. but ya have to keep trying, right?” she asked, prompting you to slowly nod. you sniffled, and whispered, “it just feels so pointless.”

“i know it does, but it isn’t. you know you haven’t done all of that for nothing. one shitty moment doesn’t erase all the hard work you’ve put in.” vi affirmed. she accentuated her words with a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead. “you’re one of the strongest people i know.”

you finally let yourself go and lay your head on her shoulder, wordlessly accepting your girlfriend’s comfort. her grip around you only tightened, and while you couldn’t see her, you knew her well enough to know by now that she was smiling at the sight of you.

mel;

mel loved sharing a bed with you. it was so peaceful, so intimate in a way. you had her in your arms facing you, her head buried in the crook of your neck taking deep, relaxed breaths.

until you shot up from your slumber with a sharp gasp after having a nightmare. enforcers. your family. you hadn’t done anything, and neither had your family, but there the enforcers were in that dream, taking them from you. ignoring your choked sobs and loud pleas to just let them go.

it was probably a side effect of growing up in the undercity, and witnessing that exact scenario more times than you could keep track of. even though it wasn’t real, it still horrified you.

you tried to steady your breathing as to not wake the woman next to you, still deep asleep. but the second you saw her begin to stir, you knew you were in trouble. mel did not take kindly to her sleep being disturbed.

she sat up slowly, looking around and one hand coming to rub at her eyes, then her eyes met yours. there’s no malice or annoyance in her gaze, only concern. “…what has you up this late?”

“just a nightmare, mel. don’t worry about it.” you sighed, voice dropping and trying to convince her to just go back to sleep. it wasn’t until you felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around you, though, and pull you close to mel’s chest that you realized she wasn’t planning on letting this go.

“no, talk to me.” mel demands, although sleep is still evident in her voice. now it’s obvious that she isn’t going to let this go, and although you feel guilty for disturbing her rest, you’re grateful that she’s not angry with you.

you let out a deep breath, and begin twiddling with your thumbs to keep your racing mind at bay. mel still has you held close to her, one hand cradling the back of your head. “it was about my family. i had a nightmare that enforcers… took them. threw them in jail without a trial. even though they’ve done nothing wrong.”

having been brought up in zaun, this was a fate that was unfortunately not uncommon. a slim possibility for you, one of the more ‘respected’ families of the undercity, but the chances were never zero. you were unsure as to why you were suddenly having nightmares about this, though.

silence hung in the air for a moment, the only sounds in the room being your girlfriend’s slow breathing and rain pattering against the windows. “…that won’t happen, love. i wish i could tell you that our enforcers are a just group of people, but they are not. but you know all i am doing to try and fix this… your family is safe. i can promise you that.”

mel’s words were genuine, but in reality, there was only so much comfort she could offer. piltover as a city was corrupt; there was no denying that. but at the very least, you could rest assured that she was trying. mel cared- not just because they were your family, but because she had a heart. that’s more than you could say for some of the other council members.

you reached to intertwine your fingers with hers, and let your eyes slowly slip shut again. “you’re safe with me, darling. a nightmare is just that; a nightmare.” mel whispered, her voice like honey, sweet and smooth. “let’s get you back to sleep. i’ll be here all night.” she pressed a final lingering kiss to your temple, before you fell back into a deep slumber.

sevika;

being one of silco’s henchmen, it wasn’t uncommon for you to arrive home with an array of injuries. bruises, scrapes, cuts, sometimes even stab wounds if it was particularly bad. most of the time, you couldn’t place exactly where each injury had come from, only that it hurt like hell. but you were used to it by now, and working for silco both paid well and earned you protection. so you couldn’t exactly complain.

this time, though, you weren’t only hurt, you were exhausted. you were honestly considering marching (albeit weakly) to silco’s office and telling him you’re resigning, effective immediately. your legs felt like they were going to fall off. you undoubtedly had a few bruised ribs and had suffered more severe injuries than ever before. thankfully, nothing seemed to be broken, but there was only so much you could take.

you swung the door to your shared apartment open, seeing sevika already sat down. you slumped into the beat-up couch next to your girlfriend, letting out a loud and exasperated sigh. what to do? you had lazily patched yourself up, but you were still in considerable pain. you looked around the room, scanning all of your belongings from years of working for the eye of zaun. could it all have been for nothing? all of your hard work- was zaun, was silco going to chew you up and spit you out?

“(y/n)? took ya a while to get back. everything fine?” sevika asked. she swung one leg over the other and took out a cigar, grabbing her box of matches from a side table. you tried to muster up the most chipper tone of voice possible, and replied, “yep, i just got a bit held up on the way back. all is well.” you even tried to cement it by giving her the best smile you could manage.

sevika gave you one of her knowing side-glances, an eyebrow raised as she lit her cigar. “spit it out.”

god damn it.

if there was one thing your girlfriend was, it was observant. she knew your mannerisms, your habits and your demeanor well enough to know when something was wrong. honestly, sometimes, you thought sevika might know you better than you know yourself.

“sev, it’s nothing, really. don’t worry about me.” you tried to reassure her, a smile cemented on your face to really sell it. yet she still saw right through you. “(y/n), somethin’s up. i can tell. come on, dove, you can talk to me.”

you weighed your options for a minute. you were scared, if you were being honest with yourself. you knew that sevika was frighteningly loyal to silco, and saying that you were thinking of leaving could anger her. maybe provoke her in some way. but another thing you knew about your girlfriend was that once she started something, she wasn’t going to let go of it until it was resolved.

“i got beat up. badly, worse than i ever have… i don’t know if i have it in me to keep doing this, sevika.” you muttered. oh, god, your voice was shaking. “everything hurts. i’m exhausted. i’ve seen so much, and i don’t know if i’m strong enough.”

sevika sat in contemplation for a moment- a moment that felt like hours. she took a long drag of her cigar, exhaling as she talked. “that comes with the job, darlin’.” you felt your heart drop into your stomach. sevika was right. now you seemed like a traitor to silco and weak. “but, we all have our limits. you’ve done all you can, and you’ve done a damn good job at it. now, i’m not gonna tell you that you should leave, because i don’t want you to. i’m selfish like that.” your girlfriend chuckled.

you let her words sink in. you swung your legs around to be on top of her lap, laying your head down on the arm of your couch. sevika brought an arm up to rest her hand on one of your thighs, gently squeezing in reassurance. “do what you think will be best, okay? i’ll still be here. always will.” she smiled. “but… what about silco?” you muttered.

sevika barked out a laugh at that, which slightly startled you. your eyes blown wide and your form jumping. “silco’ll be fine. he has his other people… like me.” she said. sevika gently pulled you to sit your entire body in her lap, and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “i’ll be here, regardless.” she looked at one of the half-assed bandages on your ankle, blood seeping through. “let’s get ya properly patched up, okay?”

caitlyn;

you sat in one of the many libraries on academy grounds, countless papers sprawled out in front of you on a desk. all of the words and countless problems needing solving had lost all meaning. your final exams were exactly a week from today, but your head was fuzzy. you couldn’t process anything. none of the study methods you were using stuck.

“shit.” you muttered to yourself, grasping your head in your hands against the desk. you lifted your head up to take in your surroundings: countless other students at tables, some in groups and some by themselves. what they all had in common was that they all seemed to be getting something done. that was a lot more than you could say for yourself.

you groaned out loud, disregarding the fact that others would absolutely hear over the loud silence of the facility. you gathered your papers, stacking them the neatest you could before shoving them in your messenger bag. you pulled out your chair, not bothering to push it back in, and turned on your heel to exit the library. god damn it.

you hastily made your way to your apartment, trying to keep your chin up as you passed other students of the district. you couldn’t let yourself crack. you couldn’t let on that anything was wrong. as you inserted your key into the lock of your apartment and turned the doorknob, the smell of dinner immediately hit you. was caitlyn… cooking?

“i’m home!” you called out, trying to search for caitlyn in the kitchen. you spotted her tall figure, her back turned to you and arms busy. you hung your bag up on a hook, and sat down on the living room couch with a dramatic huff. caitlyn turned her head to look at you for a moment, abandoning whatever she was busy stirring to come sit next to you.

when you looked over to see your girlfriend, you jumped the slightest bit. her footsteps were so quiet, it was startling at times. you never knew exactly where she learned how to do that.

“how was studying?” she asked, reaching to twirl a strand of your hair around her index finger. you sucked your breath in, and hung your head low in defeat. “well… i didn’t exactly get much done.” you murmured.

“i didn’t get anything done, actually.” you corrected yourself, voice a bit more clear this time. “i’ve got this… this mental block right now. i don’t know what it even is. i feel like every time i look at a piece of material to study, my mind just goes blank. whoosh, like i haven’t been studying this shit for months in class.” your hands were clutching your pants, trying to find any type of temporary relief. you were so utterly disappointed in yourself.

“what now, then?” your girlfriend asked, still absentmindedly playing with your hair. the smell of what you could now identify as some kind of pasta filled the room. “what do you mean, ‘what now?’” you asked. it wasn’t a quip, but a genuine question. as much as you loved caitlyn, she could be confusing from time to time.

“i mean, what are you going to do now? sulk? rest?” she clarified, her blue eyes gazing directly at- or through you. it wasn’t meant to be intimidating, but caitlyn had that effect. you took your hands off your lap and crossed your arms over your chest, gaze still downcast. “i don’t know. i’ll try again tomorrow, but right now, i don’t know.”

caitlyn moved her hand to gently tap your jaw, signaling that she wanted you to look at her. you obliged, her eyes still piercing- but a bit softer now. “do you know how many days like that i had as a girl, sat with my instructor? completely clueless as to how to solve the problem in front of me?” she asked, her tone soft and the slightest bit playful. she scoffed as she recalled the memory.

“that’s part of the reason i decided not to attend the academy. of course, i had expectations to live up to, which played a major factor in my decision. but student life hasn’t ever been for me.” caitlyn said, settling her hands down and opting to rest her head on your shoulder. navy strands lightly tickled your neck.

“what you do is admirable, dearest. one odd day doesn’t make that less true.” she smiled. “you’re still such a hard-working, smart person.. you just need to rest.” she accentuated her statement by pressing her lips to your cheek, ever so gently. fleeting.

you gently smiled at her words and leant into the kiss. you didn’t have a clue as to how she managed, but caitlyn somehow always had the right words to say. you remembered the pasta cooking, though, and gasped. “shit- cait, should you be leaving that unattended?”

your girlfriend lightly chuckled. “the sauce needed to sit for a few moments. all is well, i promise.”

[amateurvoltaire]

For the past six years or so, this graph has been making its rounds on social media, always reappearing at conveniently timed moments…

The insinuation is loud and clear: parallels abound between 18th-century France and 21st-century USA. Cue the alarm bells—revolution is imminent! The 10% should panic, and ordinary folk should stock up on non-perishables and, of course, toilet paper, because it wouldn’t be a proper crisis without that particular frenzy. You know the drill.

Well, unfortunately, I have zero interest in commenting on the political implications or the parallels this graph is trying to make with today’s world. I have precisely zero interest in discussing modern-day politics here. And I also have zero interest in addressing the bottom graph.

This is not going to be one of those "the [insert random group of people] à la lanterne” (1) kind of posts.  If you’re here for that, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.

What I am interested in is something much less click-worthy but far more useful: how historical data gets used and abused and why the illusion of historical parallels can be so seductive—and so misleading. It’s not glamorous, I’ll admit, but digging into this stuff teaches us a lot more than mindless rage.

So, let’s get into it. Step by step, we’ll examine the top graph, unpick its assumptions, and see whether its alarmist undertones hold any historical weight.

Step 1: Actually Look at the Picture and Use Your Brain

When I saw this graph, my first thought was, “That’s odd.” Not because it’s hard to believe the top 10% in 18th-century France controlled 60% of the wealth—that could very well be true. But because, in 15 years of studying the French Revolution, I’ve never encountered reliable data on wealth distribution from that period.

Why? Because to the best of my knowledge, no one was systematically tracking income or wealth across the population in the 18th century. There were no comprehensive records, no centralised statistics, and certainly no detailed breakdowns of who owned what across different classes. Graphs like this imply data, and data means either someone tracked it or someone made assumptions to reconstruct it. That’s not inherently bad,  but it did get my spider senses tingling.

Then there’s the timeframe: 1760–1790. Thirty years is a long time— especially when discussing a period that included wars, failed financial policies, growing debt, and shifting social dynamics. Wealth distribution wouldn’t have stayed static during that time. Nobles who were at the top in 1760 could be destitute by 1790, while merchants starting out in 1760 could be climbing into the upper tiers by the end of the period. Economic mobility wasn’t common, but over three decades, it wasn’t unheard of either.

All of this raises questions about how this graph was created. Where’s the data coming from? How was it measured? And can we really trust it to represent such a complex period?

Step 2: Check the Fine Print

Since the graph seemed questionable, the obvious next step was to ask: Where does this thing come from? Luckily, the source is clearly cited at the bottom: “The Income Inequality of France in Historical Perspective” by Christian Morrisson and Wayne Snyder, published in the European Review of Economic History, Vol. 4, No. 1 (2000).

Great! A proper academic source. But, before diving into the article, there’s a crucial detail tucked into the fine print:

“Data for the bottom 40% in France is extrapolated given a single data point.”

What does that mean?

Extrapolation is a statistical method used to estimate unknown values by extending patterns or trends from a small sample of data. In this case, the graph’s creator used one single piece of data—one solitary data point—about the wealth of the bottom 40% of the French population. They then scaled or applied that one value to represent the entire group across the 30-year period (1760–1790).

Put simply, this means someone found one record—maybe a tax ledger, an income statement, or some financial data—pertaining to one specific year, region, or subset of the bottom 40%, and decided it was representative of the entire demographic for three decades.

Let’s be honest: you don’t need a degree in statistics to know that’s problematic. Using a single data point to make sweeping generalisations about a large, diverse population (let alone across an era of wars, famines, and economic shifts) is a massive leap. In fact, it’s about as reliable as guessing how the internet feels about a topic from a single tweet.

This immediately tells me that whatever numbers they claim for the bottom 40% of the population are, at best, speculative. At worst? Utterly meaningless.

It also raises another question: What kind of serious journal would let something like this slide? So, time to pull up the actual article and see what’s going on.

Step 3: Check the Sources

As I mentioned earlier, the source for this graph is conveniently listed at the bottom of the image. Three clicks later, I had downloaded the actual article: “The Income Inequality of France in Historical Perspective” by Morrisson and Snyder.

The first thing I noticed while skimming through the article? The graph itself is nowhere to be found in the publication.

This is important. It means the person who created the graph didn’t just lift it straight from the article—they derived it from the data in the publication. Now, that’s not necessarily a problem; secondary analysis of published data is common. But here’s the kicker: there’s no explanation in the screenshot of the graph about which dataset or calculations were used to make it. We’re left to guess.

So, to figure this out, I guess I’ll have to dive into the article itself, trying to identify where they might have pulled the numbers from. Translation: I signed myself up to read 20+ pages of economic history. Thrilling stuff.

But hey, someone has to do it. The things I endure to fight disinformation...

Step 4: Actually Assess the Sources Critically

It doesn’t take long, once you start reading the article, to realise that regardless of what the graph is based on, it’s bound to be somewhat unreliable. Right from the first paragraph, the authors of the paper point out the core issue with calculating income for 18th-century French households: THERE IS NO DATA.

The article is refreshingly honest about this. It states multiple times that there were no reliable income distribution estimates in France before World War II. To fill this gap, Morrisson and Snyder used a variety of proxy sources like the Capitation Tax Records (2), historical socio-professional tables, and Isnard’s income distribution estimates (3).

After reading the whole paper, I can say their methodology is intriguing and very reasonable. They’ve pieced together what they could by using available evidence, and their process is quite well thought-out. I won’t rehash their entire argument here, but if you’re curious, I’d genuinely recommend giving it a read.

Most importantly, the authors are painfully aware of the limitations of their approach. They make it very clear that their estimates are a form of educated guesswork—evidence-based, yes, but still guesswork.   At no point do they overstate their findings or present their conclusions as definitive

As such,  instead of concluding with a single, definitive version of the income distribution, they offer multiple possible scenarios.

It’s not as flashy as a bold, tidy graph, is it? But it’s far more honest—and far more reflective of the complexities involved in reconstructing historical economic data.

Step 5: Run the numbers

Now that we’ve established the authors of the paper don’t actually propose a definitive income distribution, the question remains: where did the creators of the graph get their data? More specifically, which of the proposed distributions did they use?

Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to locate the original article or post containing the graph. Admittedly, I haven’t tried very hard, but the first few pages of Google results just link back to Twitter, Reddit, Facebook, and Tumblr posts. In short, all I have to go on is this screenshot.

I’ll give the graph creators the benefit of the doubt and assume that, in the full article, they explain where they sourced their data. I really hope they do—because they absolutely should.

That being said, based on the information in Morrisson and Snyder’s paper, I’d make an educated guess that the data came from Table 6 or Table 10, as these are the sections where the authors attempt to provide income distribution estimates.

Now, which dataset does the graph use? Spoiler: None of them.

How can we tell? Since I don’t have access to the raw data or the article where this graph might have been originally posted, I resorted to a rather unscientific method: I used a graphical design program to divide each bar of the chart into 2.5% increments and measure the approximate percentage for each income group.

Here’s what I found:

Now, take a moment to spot the issue. Do you see it?

The problem is glaring: NONE of the datasets from the paper fit the graph. Granted, my measurements are just estimates, so there might be some rounding errors. But the discrepancies are impossible to ignore, particularly for the bottom 40% and the top 10%.

In Morrisson and Snyder’s paper, the lowest estimate for the bottom 40% (1st and 2nd quintiles) is 10%. Even if we use the most conservative proxy, the Capitation Tax estimate, it’s 9%. But the graph claims the bottom 40% held only 6%.

For the top 10% (10th decile), the highest estimate in the paper is 53%. Yet the graph inflates this to 60%.

Step 6: For fun, I made my own bar charts

Because I enjoy this sort of thing (yes, this is what I consider fun—I’m a very fun person), I decided to use the data from the paper to create my own bar charts. Here’s what came out:

What do you notice?

While the results don’t exactly scream “healthy economy,” they look much less dramatic than the graph we started with. The creators of the graph have clearly exaggerated the disparities, making inequality seem worse.

Step 7: Understand the context before drawing conclusions

Numbers, by themselves, mean nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I could tell you right now that 47% of people admit to arguing with inanimate objects when they don’t work, with printers being the most common offender, and you’d probably believe it. Why? Because it sounds plausible—printers are frustrating, I’ve used a percentage, and I’ve phrased it in a way that sounds “academic.”

You likely wouldn’t even pause to consider that I’m claiming 3.8 billion people argue with inanimate objects. And let’s be real: 3.8 billion is such an incomprehensibly large number that our brains tend to gloss over it.

If, instead, I said, “Half of your friends probably argue with their printers,” you might stop and think, “Wait, that seems a bit unlikely.” (For the record, I completely made that up—I have no clue how many people yell at their stoves or complain to their toasters.)

The point? Numbers mean nothing unless we put them into context.

The original paper does this well by contextualising its estimates, primarily through the calculation of the Gini coefficient (4).

The authors estimate France’s Gini coefficient in the late 18th century to be 0.59, indicating significant income inequality. However, they compare this figure to other regions and periods to provide a clearer picture:

Amsterdam (1742): Much higher inequality, with a Gini of 0.69.

Britain (1759): Lower inequality, with a Gini of 0.52, which rose to 0.59 by 1801.

Prussia (mid-19th century): Far less inequality, with a Gini of 0.34–0.36.

This comparison shows that income inequality wasn’t unique to France. Other regions experienced similar or even higher levels of inequality without spontaneously erupting into revolution.

Accounting for Variations

The authors also recalculated the Gini coefficient to account for potential variations. They assumed that the income of the top quintile (the wealthiest 20%) could vary by ±10%. Here’s what they found:

If the top quintile earned 10% more, the Gini coefficient rose to 0.66, placing France significantly above other European countries of the time.

If the top quintile earned 10% less, the Gini dropped to 0.55, bringing France closer to Britain’s level.

Ultimately, the authors admit there’s uncertainty about the exact level of inequality in France. Their best guess is that it was comparable to other countries or somewhat worse.

Step 8: Drawing Some Conclusions

Saying that most people in the 18th century were poor and miserable—perhaps the French more so than others—isn’t exactly a compelling statement if your goal is to gather clicks or make a dramatic political point.

It’s incredibly tempting to look at the past and find exactly what we want to see in it. History often acts as a mirror, reflecting our own expectations unless we challenge ourselves to think critically. Whether you call it wishful thinking or confirmation bias, it’s easy to project the future onto the past.

Looking at the initial graph, I understand why someone might fall into this trap. Simple, tidy narratives are appealing to everyone. But if you’ve studied history, you’ll know that such narratives are a myth. Human nature may not have changed in thousands of years, but the contexts we inhabit are so vastly different that direct parallels are meaningless.

So, is revolution imminent? Well, that’s up to you—not some random graph on the internet.

Notes

(1) A la lanterne was a  revolutionary cry during the French Revolution, symbolising mob justice where individuals were sometimes hanged from lampposts as a form of public execution

(2) The capitation tax was a fixed head tax implemented in France during the Ancien Régime. It was levied on individuals, with the amount owed determined by their social and professional status. Unlike a proportional income tax, it was based on pre-assigned categories rather than actual earnings, meaning nobles, clergy, and commoners paid different rates regardless of their actual wealth or income.

(3) Jean-Baptiste Isnard was an 18th-century economist. These estimates attempted to describe the theoretical distribution of income among different social classes in pre-revolutionary France. Isnard’s work aimed to categorise income across groups like nobles, clergy, and commoners, providing a broad picture of economic disparity during the period.

(4) The Gini coefficient (or Gini index) is a widely used statistical measure of inequality within a population, specifically in terms of income or wealth distribution. It ranges from 0 to 1, where 0 indicates perfect equality (everyone has the same income or wealth), and 1 represents maximum inequality (one person or household holds all the wealth).

[short-honey-badger]

Doll 2

Pairings: Shanks x Female Reader

Summary: Shanks can't stop thinking about you and how you'll fit in with the crew

Warnings: late night thoughts and mentions of abuse

Doll Masterlist

Later that night, while Shanks lay in the room he'd rented, the redhead couldn't stop thinking about you. Even while pleasantly buzzed still from earlier, his mind was a whirlwind of thought, and as much as it disgusted him to consider, he did want to know what kind of slave you were. The Celestial Dragons were known to keep all kinds of races, from Fishman to Giants. Labor, entertainment, pleasure.

Shanks hoped that you hadn't been part of the latter. You didn't seem like it, didn't have the innate sultry look that Shanks had seen before, but that didn't mean you couldn't hide it from him. He could go ask you, demand you tell him since he was the one who decided to bring you on board, but the thought of doing that left an awful taste in his mouth. Shanks wanted you to trust him. He wanted to be your friend.

You hadn't told him much about your past, only the little bit that you’d been willing to share with him so far, but Shanks wanted you to feel safe enough that you would want to share everything with him eventually. He wanted to see you smile more, wanted to see you relax and feel at home with him and the rest of his crew. You wanted to know everything, so Shanks would make sure you got what you wanted.

A knock on his door tore the captain from his thoughts, and he jumped from the bed to open the door. You stood on the other side, a contrite expression on your face. His own schools into one of concern and lean against the doorway.

“Everything okay, Doll?” He asks quietly and has a hard time not reaching out to cup her face when you bite your lip and avoid his eyes. He waits patiently for you, not willing to rush you into anything that you might not be read for.

“I just wanted to say thank you. I didn’t earlier, and it’s been bothering me,” you ramble and then fall silent. You don’t want your new captain to rescind his offer to join him, but you’ve been instructed to say please and thank you since you could remember, even if whatever you’d been sent to do ended in punishment.

Shanks softens even more at your admission. He can see the old fear lingering in your eyes, and it makes rage boil in his chest that you’ve been subject to such treatment that a simple thank you made you so nervous. He doesn’t fight the urge this time to reach out to cup your face in his hand, his lips turning up in a sad smile.

“Sweetheart. You don’t have to thank me for something like this. Don’t think you have to treat me and mine like you had to treat those bastards. I don’t own you, Doll. You own yourself.”

He watches in mild panic as tears form in your eyes, and then he has a chest full of sobbing woman. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer to try and provide some form of comfort. Shanks isn’t the best at this, but for you? He’d try his damndest. He dips his head and presses a kiss to the top of your head and listens as your sobs begin to slow down into quiet sniffles.

You grimace as you pull away and look at his shirt from where your face had been pressed, “I’m sorry, I got you all nasty.”

Shanks laughs and shakes his head. You were adorable like this, and he couldn’t get enough of it, “Darling. I promise you that this shirt has had worse than some snot and tears on it.”

The look of disgust that paints your face is all worth the confession, and Shanks only laughs harder when you pull away and wipe your face. You crinkle your nose and eye him with a now skeptical look, “When was the last time you washed that shirt?”

Shanks aims an innocent look, lips pursed as he shrugs a shoulder. You scoff and cross your arms, but your fear from earlier seems to be gone, so the redhead is happy.

“Maybe it is a good thing I’m coming along. A crew full of men probably needs a woman’s touch,” You quip, and Shanks can’t help but silently agree. He won’t lie and say that the laundry doesn’t get piled up on occasion. Or the dishes despite Lucky Roux keeping the kitchen orderly. He’s guilty himself for letting his quarters get a little too messy. But he didn’t bring you along so that you could be their maid.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, _,” Shanks murmurs, tone dropping the playful tilt as he catches her chin in his hand, “I’m not bringing you with us for that.”

His heart thuds in his chest at the smile that you send him. You slowly reach up and wrap your fingers around his wrist, squeezing softly before letting your hand fall back to your side. It makes you feel good that Shanks is taking your comfort in mind, but you wouldn’t be a burden on his ship.

“I know that, but I don’t think I could physically just sit around and do nothing. I’ve worked… my whole life, Shanks, and I don’t want to be just another mouth to feed. I want to be helpful,” you say and shrug a little helplessly. The only break you’ve ever had was in the last month of your escape, but even then, you were constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if this would be the day that someone recognized you and dragged you back to Marie Geois. The guilt of leaving the other slaves behind still ate at you, and you wished that you could have been able to take them with you.

“Then we’ll figure it out as we go, Doll,” Shanks promises and strokes his thumb along your jaw like he had earlier before he drops his hand. He doesn’t want you to think that he wants you for anything other than your company. Not that you’re not beautiful, but Shanks doesn’t want you to think he expected something like that from you. Not unless you wanted it.

You blush at th efeeling of the rough pad of his finger against your skin. You didn’t like it when people touched you, but you found that dislike absent when Shanks did it. It felt natural and kept you grounded in a way you didn’t expect. You flick your eyes up, catching his own and send him a small smile, “Thank you again, Shanks.”

The redhead meets it with a grin of his own. A yawn suddenly catches you off guard, and you cover your mouth with a hand, eyes squinting as you look away from him. Shanks snickers at the way your nose scrunches up and steps back into his room.

“Go catch some sleep, Doll. We’ll stay here a couple more days to resupply, and then we’ll be on our way,” Shanks yawns himself halfway through, his words coming out slow and choppy before they even out. He smirks when his antics make you laugh, and then he is watching you turn on your heel and lope down the hall, “Night, Doll.”

“Night, Shanks,” you call softly back, and then you disappear around the corner. Shanks sighs once you are gone. Mind stuffed even more with thoughts about you as he shuts the door and lays back down. He rubs a hand down his face and rolls to his side, vowing to figure out the details in the morning.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Meet the Family 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.(petite!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: gotta right my final reflection today and then I don't have schoolwork for a while!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“So, when is the wedding?” Lillians asks over a half-empty plate. 

You take your time chewing. You don’t have an answer. As far as you’re concerned, this is Lloyd’s plot so he can come up with the detail. You're here to enjoy the wine. 

“Uh, the spring,” he blurts out. 

“The spring?” Gwenyth repeats. “Don’t you have a specific date?” 

“Erm, May something...” Lloyd says. 

“May? That’s so soon. If you don’t even have a date, I doubt you have a venue or a dress or--” Lillian counters. 

“Oh, well, we were thinking of. Er...” Lloyd turns his fork in this hand. “Eloping?” 

“Eloping,” Gwenyth hisses. “Eloping? Does that mean we’re not invited? It’s simply not fair.” 

“Mom, I--” 

“Gwen, he didn’t say that, did he?” 

“Well, dad--” 

“We are invited,” William states. It’s not a question. 

“You see what happens?” Gwen takes her cloth napkin and folds it, dabbing her tearless eyes, “the groom’s mother is always excluded. He is my son--” 

“A destination wedding would be nice,” William suggests. 

“Uh, of course. Yeah. We’d like to go somewhere far away, but uh, not far from you...” Lloyd stammers and you kick his foot. You could laugh at how flustered he is if you were entwined in his lies. He sits straighter, “We’ll have the invitations out soon. Everyone’s invited of course--” 

You kick him again. He slips his hand on your knee and squeezes, “we’re still figuring things out,” he declares. 

“Oh, it seems so!” Gwenyth clasps the napkin between her hands. “Darling, you must let me help. And Lillian. Her wedding was fabulous.” 

“Which one?” Lloyd snickers. 

“We’ll see if you even have one,” his sister retorts. 

He cackles and William sighs. 

“Yes, weddings. All that mess,” William drawls. “The ladies can suss out the details but I do believe it’s time for the yearly rematch.” 

“You still do that?” Lloyd asks. 

“Hm, of course. It is a tradition. What’s the matter? You too old, boy?” 

“Speak for yourself,” Lloyd bounces back, shocking you with the snipe. 

Another surprise, William laughs. 

“Ben may need to sit out,” William suggests. 

“Oh, to the contrary, old boy, I’ve had just enough bourbon that I am a prized asset in my state,” the man with the fluffy ash hair doffs his mug. 

“Hm, yes, Carter, Linus, Ransom, Ben, myself, Lloyd,” William counts on his fingers, “Dawson, Lewis, Hudson, and Owen. Quite the lineup this year.” 

You look at Lloyd confused. He doesn’t look excited. You reach under the table and move his hand off your leg. He flinches and glances over at you. 

“Is this some sort of cribbage tournament?” You scoff under your breath. 

He shakes his head. “Touch football...” 

“Football...” You peer across the table with concerns. At least four of the players named are a bit too old to be running around in the snow. 

“It’s fine. Just like tag,” Lloyd shrugs unconvincingly. You chew your lip as you consider him. His eyes follow the movement and you stop yourself. “What?” He asks. 

“I’m just trying to picture it,” you say. “You don’t seem like a football person.” 

“What does that mean? You don’t seem like one either? What would you know?” You hiss back. 

“Ah, dear,” William calls across the table, “do not fear for his safety. We are all family, no one means to hurt each other.” 

Despite his assurance, you’re even less convinced that there won’t be some horrible accident. Again, you remind yourself, it’s Lloyd’s problems. Your sole focus is the money. And the wine. 

You reach to drain your glass, “I’m not worried at all,” you smile, “oh, and honey,” you turn to Lloyd, “you never asked but I love football. I’m a big Bills fan, actually. Remember, laces out.” 

Lloyd grumbles and stands. The other men do in a lazy succession. They stretch and groan over the scraping chair legs. The women rise too and start to clear the table. You’re not a fan of that divide; the men get their fun and the women get to tidy, but you will not be as rude as they’ve accused you. 

You start to gather cutlery and plates. Lloyd startles you as he puts his hand on your hip to stop you. You face him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” He says. 

You bat your lashes and smirk. You’re amused that he thinks you’re that concerned. 

“Oh, I’m sure you can handle a game of tag, but you might want to stretch. There’s no one you can pay to run the ball for you,” you snort. 

You move past him and follow Lillian. He huffs as you leave him to the rabble of old man talking trash. As you enter the kitchen, Lillian sets the plates on the counter and you put yours next to hers. You take the top one and scrape it clean. 

“You’ll enjoy it. It’s always a good show. I am interested to see the teams this year,” she trills. “Of course, without Lloyd around for so long, I had to step in. Unfortunately, this year, I'm in no condition to lace up.” 

“Oh, it sounds like a fun tradition,” you remark. 

“It’s wonderful fun,” she assures as Gwenyth enters. Lillian shifts closer and lowers her voice, “also, you might want to consider, Lloyd wasn’t keeping us from you, perhaps it was the opposite. We are a rather selective bunch.” 

You meet her bruising sneer and smile. The wine helps drown your agitation. Why should you be bothered? Once you have your money, it won’t worry what the bloated bitch thinks? Oops, let’s keep those thoughts inside. 

“Oh, I’ll be sure to thank him for that,” you wink. She frowns. 

“Leave the plates at the sink, ladies,” Gwenyth commands. “Let’s grab out coats! The powder’s fresh. It’ll be a good match.” 

It’s odd. You really didn’t take this horde of pretentious ghouls as the football type. Well, maybe not the NFL-watching, tailgating type in pickups or minivans. Still, you can’t help but be a little amped for a Christmas game. 

There’s a crunch at the front door. Andrea, Angela, and Raquel warble with Gwenyth, as Shanna, Linda, and Lana come over to admire Lillian’s bump and ask her about the birth plans, while you stand to the side and watch Beatrice with a few younger girls, the elder daughters from all those pairing, who are less than enthused about the whole show. The parade of names escape you though you hardly wonder who is who. 

Your eyes wander to the next room. The younger kids are kept busy before the large Christmas tree by women you haven’t been introduced too. You assume those are the nannies Lloyd mentioned. It’s rather grim, a family divided as if the younger generation were a nuisance. Despite the enthusiasm for Lillian’s coming child, the poor soul will only end up at kids’ table apart from their mother. 

The men chatter near the open door as a brisk wind flows in. As you reach for your coat, you collide with another. You turn in the tight space to face Ransom as he cracks his neck. 

“You going to cheer me on, baby girl?” He smirks at you. 

You stare at him crisply. You continue to pull your coat on as you censor the variations of ‘hell no’ rolling through your mind. You look around for an escape but there isn’t one. The entry way is packed with bodies. 

“It will be cathartic. You’d just be cheering on the team, not necessarily, cheering against your beloved fiance,” he snickers. 

You look at him dully, “oh, I'm certain you’ll run circles around a team full of middle aged and elder men.” 

“You love to see it,” he grins and reaches around you. Before you can react, he pinches your ass again. You hit his chest as he pulls away and rubs his fingertips together, “for good luck.” 

“You’re nasty.” 

“Look at who you came with, sweetheart,” he sticks his tongue out and turns away. “But I understand if it’s my ass you’re watching out in the snow.” 

You curl your lip as you zip up your coat and shuffle over near the women. The men disburse through the front door ahead of you. They holler at each other, pointing impatiently, “over there.”; “Ben, too far”, “No, you snap--” 

You watch them break into team in the snowy street, barren of cars in the calm of Christmas Day. You tuck your hands into your pocket as you stand along the curb and the other women puff clouds into the frigid air. Lazy flakes swirl down and add to the glowing ambiance of the wintry midday. 

William, Ransom, Linus, Dawson, and Hudson huddle on one side with the ball as the others, Benson, Lloyd, Carter, Lewis, and Owen watch, waiting to respond to the first play. You’re not expecting anything more than wobbling throws and clumsy runs, still, it’s better than arguing at the dinner table. 

Ransom gets down to snap to William. The ball passes hands as Dawson runs a route and Ransom and Linus block the front light. Hudson takes the running backs route for the fake handoff before William searches for his receiver. Not bad for amateurs, especially given the demographic. 

The ball is caught as Owen makes the touch. No proper tackle, just a tap on Dawson’s shoulders. The play end as the next play is called in the huddle. Instead of moving down the street, the team resets at the same line, counting yard from that point. 

Another snap. The run is stuffed as Lloyd makes the touch on Hudson, almost indifferent about the play. The women cheer but not at the right times. They’re not really paying attention as they garble about desserts or their hair stylists. 

“You know what would be perfect, some mulled cider,” Beatrice suggests. The comment does make you thirsty but you’re not so sure you’d trade the cold outside for that inside. 

The ball switches possessions. Lloyd takes the snap. You’re a bit surprised but Benson is swaying in his blocking position. That’s less shocking. 

Snap. A pass. Straight and on target. Carter, one of William’s brothers, makes the catch and runs for ten more. Or what’s assumed to be that man. 

A new call. Lloyd rambles out signals in a parody of a real game. “Blood. Wine. Beemer, beemer beemer. Black sheep...” Your eye is drawn by Ransom as he shifts low. You tilt your head. 

“Offside,” you mutter as the ball snaps. Ransom’s across the line before the blockers can react and before the ball can change hands. In an instant, Lloyd is in the snow beneath the other man. 

“Oh my!” “Gosh.” “Ransom...” The concern washes over the audience of women as the men stop the play and turn to look at the two men in the snow. 

The latch onto each other in a toothless brawl. Lloyd knocks Ransom into the snow and grabs his neck. Ransom grips him in turn and they roll back and forth, trying to throttle each other. The other men move to separate them. 

“You two,” William booms. 

“Oh, Ransom, what are you doing?” Linda rushes over. 

“Linda,” William growls as Lloyd is dragged away from her son. “We were kind in letting him come here after everything--” 

“Oh, don’t blame him. Your son is just as bad.” 

“My son has a job,” William snarls back. 

“Don’t worry, that cuck barely got a ding on me,” Lloyd sneers as he shrugs the other men off. There’s a raw and red patch on his cheek bone and snow in his mussed hair. Scratches peek out above his collar as he coughs. 

“Fucker’s weak as pudding,” Ransom jeers back. 

“Both of you. That’s disgusting,” William growls. “Enough. Both of you, benched.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Lloyd whines. 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re ruining the game,” William says. “Both of you, go inside.” 

“He antagonized him,” Linda squalls, “you heard his play call--” 

“Your son’s grown. He can handle words,” William rebuffs. “You can go inside with them.” 

You’re disappointed. It wasn’t bad while it lasted. Lloyd chuffs and steps around his father. Several bodies move to keep him away from Ransom. He rolls his eyes and waves them off. 

“He’s not worth it,” he stomps over to you. “Whatever, let’s get some hot chocolate or some shit. Better than standing in the snow with a bunch of geezers.” 

He grabs your arm and you have no choice but to let him lead you away. You can hear Ransom pleading his own case, whining at his mom, as she huffs and sighs. The argument fades as you near the front door. 

Lloyd pushes through and drags you in with him. He checks his reflection in the wall mirror, fixing his hair as he winces. He left his coat and blazer inside, wearing only his black turtleneck, now wet from the snow and streaked with salt along his back. He shakes his head at himself. 

You undo your coat and hang it. You almost want to call it a day. You came to brunch, you faced the wolves, and there isn’t enough wine to make them tolerable. 

He touches his cheek and hisses, “ugh, bastard.” 

“Hard hit,” you say. 

“Sure was. Who knew the brat had it in him?” He gingerly presses his cheekbone, “ugh, well, Pix, how about you kiss it better?” 

“What?” You grimace. “No way.” 

“But it hurts,” he turns to you and pushes his bottom lip out. 

“Uh uh,” you cross your arms. “We need to talk. About the wedding.” 

“Really? You wanna talk about that?” 

“Lloyd, I said a courthouse.” 

“I know but...” he pauses and glances around the entry way, “come on.” 

He ushers you down the hall and into the bathroom. He shuts the door and you’re once more trapped in the tight space with a Hansen twin. He stands in front of the door as he faces you. 

“Look, I’m just trying to get this done. It’s good for both of us. You want your money, don’t you? So you need to play along.” 

“I am.” 

“It’s just a fucking ceremony and a dinner.” He argues. 

“It’s not what I agreed too.” 

“Yeah, well, we have to be convincing if we want our prize.” 

You scowl, “I really am not enjoying this whole ‘we’ narrative.” 

“That’s the script, Pixie pie. So put a little bit of energy into it.” He steps closer and you stiffen as he puts his hands on your shoulders. “Loosen up and you might actually have a bit of fun.” 

“It was supposed to be the holiday and the courthouse,” you insist. 

“Not good enough. We both know it.” 

“I want more money,” you grit. 

He pouts again, “you drive a hard bargain for such a soft little thing.” 

You push him away as he goes to stroke his cheek. 

“Two million. I’m not wearing a white dress for anything less.” 

“Baby, please, you’re bleeding me dry--” 

“I’m not blind, Lloyd.” You look around emphatically, “I know what I’m asking for is a fraction of what you’ll get. I’ve worked for you long enough to know your tactics. Whatever I ask, I’m being undersold. Two or I walk right now.” 

He takes a deep breath and lets it out, “let me just see a little ass.” 

You blink, stunned by his barter. You shake your head. “Not for a three million.” 

“Ugh, fine. You’re so damn stubborn. I like it but I also hate it,” he sighs. “Two,” he pulls his hand free and offers it. You shake it with a triumphant smirk. “Let’s seal that the right way.” 

He tightens his hold on you as he grabs the back of your head and bends to smother you with a bristly kiss. You squeak before you can pull away. You scoff at him and yank your hand free to wipe your lips. 

“It’s gonna happen, Pixie,” he grins. “Trust.” 

[meazalykov]

watch my heart break

danielle van de donk x exarsenal!reader

summary: all good things must come to an end

warnings: angst

the fluorescent lights in the locker room flicker softly, casting a pale glow over the space that begins to feel more like a confinement than a sanctuary. 

you sit on the edge of a wooden bench, the cold surface pressing against you. the familiar scent of sweat and worn leather fills the air, mixed with the faint aroma of the laundry detergent used for your jerseys. 

yet, those odors that once brought you comfort now feel oppressive and heavy, much like the anguish building inside.

you stare at a small bottle of water resting in front of you, unable to bring yourself to drink from it. your heart feels like it’s encased in ice, a chasm of emotions swirling around your thoughts. your mind keeps flashing back to the whirlwind of emotions you shared with danielle—the laughter that echoed through the corridors of arsenal, the late-night conversations that stretched into dawn, the passion both on the field and behind closed doors. 

danielle was supposed to be your forever.

the news that ingrid gave you earlier in training sent you into a panic. at first, you thought you covered it up well. however, as you were doing drills, everything from the past hit you. you told the team that you had to use the restroom inside, but you just sat down and thought about everything.

the memories hits you with piercing clarity—the moment everything changed. you can see it as if it were happening again, the night in your shared apartment filled with the laughter and warmth that usually suffused your lives but now felt hauntingly distant.

“y/n, we need to talk,” danielle had said, her voice unusually serious, the shadows dancing across her face as the sunlight faded outside.

you immediately felt dread coil in your stomach. 

“what’s wrong…?” 

danielle doesn’t speak right away. 

“you’re scaring me,” you say, your heart racing as you brace for bad news.

“i got an offer from lyon,” danielle began, her words trembling in the air. 

“and… they want me to join.i’m going to take it.”

“thats amazing dani!!” 

“yeah but you’re going to wolfsburg, i’m not sure if this is going to work..” 

your heart sank. “what do you mean? what about us? we can make it work, danielle. wolfsburg and lyon is not that far; it’s just a three-hour flight.”

“y/n, it’s not just about the distance,” she explained. 

“long distance is hard emotionally. i don’t think i can do it. i’m sorry, but… i think we should break up.”

the words felt like a knife twisting into your heart. 

“what? you can’t just throw everything away because of a three hour distance! you’re the love of my life, danielle.”

“sometimes love isn’t enough,” she said softly, her eyes filled with unshed tears. 

“i can’t do this if we’re not at the same club. i don’t want to hurt either of us more.”

you stared at her, bewildered, trying to comprehend the sudden finality in her voice, the way she avoided your gaze as if afraid of what lay within. 

some of your national teammates can handle long distance relationships in different continents!! what does danielle mean she can't handle the distance between lyon and wolfsburg!

“i thought we were going to build a life together. dani i-i-i thought you were the one!”

“i thought so too,” she said, her eyes glistening. 

“but i have to think of my career. i can’t do long distance. i need to focus.”

“focus?” you echoed, disbelief washing over you. 

“how is it easier to date someone else at a different club than to fight for us?”

the room felt heavy with unsaid words as you both fell silent, each wrapped in your own swirling storm of thoughts. you wanted to scream, to shake some sense into her, to plead for clarity, for truth but all you could do was nod numbly, accepting what felt like a devastating betrayal while desperately holding on to the last threads of your love.

“if this is what you really want…” you finally whispered, tears blurring your vision, 

“i guess there’s nothing i can do… it hurts, danielle. it really hurts.”

“i’m sorry,” she said.

for a moment, you believed her—believed that the decision was about you, about them, and not the seeds of something new already taking root in her heart.

with that, you walked out of the door of your shared apartment for one last time, the echoes of your laughter still trapped between the walls, your heart crushed under the weight of goodbye.

now, the memory lingers in the air, sharp and painful. your heart twists as you recollect how danielle had never once expressed doubt about your love during that conversation—how could she? 

you blink away tears as you sit in the locker room, trying to gather yourself amidst the chaos of your emotions. 

footsteps echo down the hall, breaking the silence. 

lena enters, her vibrant presence immediately lighting up the somber atmosphere, but as she takes a step closer, her bright smile falters upon seeing your tear-streaked face.

“y/n! everyone is—--oh– uh, everything okay?”

you turn away, a lump forming in your throat. 

“i’m fine.”

lena knows better than to take that at face value. she can see the outline of your face, shimmering with unshed tears.

“you don’t look fine,” she says gently, stepping further into the room.

“do you want to talk about it?”

“not really,” you mutter, attempting to sound dismissive but failing miserably.

lena shifts awkwardly, but before she can respond, she glances toward the door, spotting ewa, ingrid, and pernille walking in. 

“guys! come here!” she calls, urgency lacing her tone. 

as they naturally gather around, you can feel their concern radiating off them, even though you wish to shield yourself from it. 

“what’s wrong?” ingrid asks, her accent unmistakably sweet and soothing.

you shake your head, unable to control the tears that form again. 

“nothing.”

“you’re crying, y/n,” ewa replies, a gentle probing beneath her tough demeanor. 

“talk to us.”

“you can’t fix this, trust me,” you say, bitterness creeping into your tone.

“who says we can’t?” pernille steps closer, an aura of strength emanating from her. 

“we’re here for you, remember?”

you let out a laugh, but it’s hollow. 

“what happened?” lena presses, her brow furrowing.

you take a deep breath, and with it comes a surge of emotions.

“it was danielle… she left for lyon. she didn’t want to do long distance, and i thought we could make it work. but then, just a few weeks later…” your voice trails off as the bite of fresh pain blooms in your chest.

“oh.” ingrid mumbles, remembering what she told you.

“what? what happened?” ewa asks, eyebrows knitting together in concern as she looks between you and ingrid.

“she started dating someone else. ellie, ellie carpenter from australia” you whisper, the name spilling from your lips like venom. 

“just a few months after our breakup. we were together for years!! was that why she was so adamant about ending things?”

silence fills the air, a heavy blanket that suffocates your spirit. you can see the realization flicker in your friends' eyes.

“what a coward,” ingrid murmurs, fury substituting soft sympathy. 

“she should have just talked to you.” pernille says. 

you feel that fury stir within you, heart pounding with a mix of anger and sorrow. 

“right? like it wouldn’t have been that hard to face me and tell me that! how could she not care enough to be honest?”

“some people are afraid of confrontation,” lena replies softly. 

“that doesn’t mean they care any less, though.”

you meet lena’s gaze, your eyes brimming once more. 

“but she didn’t fight for us, did she? if you love someone, you fight for them. i would’ve done everything in my power to make it work. we had plans… i thought she was the one.”

“this was all her loss,” pernille states firmly, a reassuring hand on your back. 

“you’re amazing, y/n! the way you play, the way you care about others—she doesn’t deserve a second of your thoughts! you need to let go of this weight.”

you can’t shake it off, no matter how much you try. the memories flood your mind, filling the gaps left by danielle’s absence. the laughter echoing through your apartment, the late-night matches played out on your console with hastily made snacks scattered around, the moments when danielle would lean in a little closer, making your heart race. 

“i don’t know how to do that,” you admit, your voice breaking.

“then we’ll help you,” ewa states firmly, a reassuring hand on your back. 

“we’re here, and we won’t let you carry this alone.”

“danielle made her choice,” ingrid adds, crossing her arms. 

“it was her loss. you’re incredible, y/n. don’t let her actions define your worth. you’re more than just someone who loved her. you’re a fantastic player, and you have a whole future ahead of you.”

in the comforting arms of your teammates, you whisper, 

“thank you, guys. i really don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“just remember, we are here for you y/n,” ewa promises, brushing a tear away from your cheek.

taking a deep breath, your heart begins to settle at last. maybe this is the turning point you need. 

“you think we should get back to training before coach asks what happened?” lena asks, pulling back slowly, gauging your reaction.

“yeah,” you say, the glimmer of determination beginning to replace the emptiness in your chest. 

“i promise i won’t let a relationship get in the way of my football again.”

“that’s the spirit!” ingrid cheers, throwing her arm around your shoulder.

masterlist

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Xavier: Stardust | SFW Angst

So anyway, did y'all see the um...story branch trailer for Xavier that was posted an hour ago? Well. Here we go. 1.2k with angst and comfort.

Pairings: Xavier x Reader Warnings: Angst but with Comfort Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

“Xavier,” your voice cracked as you saw him clutching his chest. He collapsed onto the ground as you rushed over to him, grabbing his hand, “Xavier!” you said it more forcefully. How were you supposed to know this would happen? One moment, you were fighting wanderers, trying to find clues on a possible Aethercore, and the next…how did this happen? You don’t even remember how you got here; the only thing on your mind is Xavier right now.

“I-I’m,” his voice cracked, and it almost sounded like a death rattle as you heard the sharp intake of air. It was almost like his lungs refused to allow anything inside of them right now. YOu couldn’t even register the wetness on your cheeks as you tried cupping his cheeks.

He was so pale, so cold. How did this happen? How did this happen to him? Your heart beat erratically as you looked at him, his eyes already glazed over. You could see the shine of whatever collar was around his neck. You know you had seen it before, and he never told you why it was there, but now it was so much clearer. Another shaky intake of air, this time almost wet like his lungs were filling up with water.

“What can I do?” you said, trying to help him. Why was he glowing now? His body seemed brighter, almost like the light of his evol. It was unnatural as you looked at him. His temperature hadn’t changed; he was still cold as ice, and his skin was now clammy. “Xavier, please tell me there’s something I can do.” You cried out.

Then you saw it, the paleness of his face as he looked up at you; those brilliant blue eyes now lacked the normal luster they always held. They were almost hollowed, ghosts of their former self, and completely unfocused as he tried looking directly at you, “It’ll be okay?” he said, “I promise, it’ll all be alright.” He tried to assure you, but his voice was so quiet and almost distant. It was like he was speaking so far away, his words echoing through a tunnel, and you realized now that it was because there was too much blood rushing in your ears. You were panicking; you were losing him.

“Please, Xavier, don’t…” you said, choking out a sob, “You can’t leave me, not like this. There’s still so much we have to do.” You cried out, holding onto him for dear life. Even as you held him, though, you could feel it. His body slowly became nothing, turning into the brilliant light that was normally a comfort to you. Now, it was mocking your naivety, thinking that things could stay the same as they always had. Thinking that in this lifetime you could find happiness with him.

This…lifetime.

“I promise, just look into the sky,” Xavier said, and through tears, you tried looking up, but it was overcast, “My light, I promise, it’ll always shine on you. Guide you. It’ll never be far.” He said, letting out a small cough. Then he was gone, and in an instant, your entire world crumbled. Your nails dug into the ground as you wailed into the night sky; the only thing left of Xavier was a singular star-shaped charm that you so often saw on his light blade.

He was gone, and you felt…so hollow. It was nothing like when Granny died or Caleb died. It was like a part of your soul was ripped out of your chest, and you could only stare at the ground, sobbing and letting your tears wet the dirt underneath you.

Then, there was a startled gasp from your throat. Your eyes snapping open to reveal nothing but darkness around you. As your eyes adjusted and you came to, you felt something warm around you, the brush of something soft on your wet cheeks and a voice that was so familiar and grounding it made you sob again.

Your eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and you could finally hear it, “It’s okay, shhhh it’s alright,” Xavier’s voice was trying to get you out of whatever nightmare you had been having. You turned in his arms and wrapped your own around his torso, pressing your face into his chest. You couldn’t help the sobs that escaped you, little hiccups leaving your throat as you cried into his chest. His hands never left you, one of them playing with your hair, the other rubbing along your upper back.

His words were soothing, letting you know he was there, he was with you, he’d protect you. But you couldn’t protect him. It sent you spiraling again as you hugged him closer, and you felt his lips on your forehead now, his hand rubbing away some of your tears as he forced you to look at him.

“Hey, come on, look at my little star,” he murmured, his voice calm despite your hysterics. You could hear his breathing for once, forcing your own to even out with his own as you felt your heart slowing down a bit, your body no longer in a complete panic despite how your mind still told you that you let him die.

“Xavier,” you finally said, your voice wrecked and broken as you cupped his cheek. It was warm under your palm, soothing; his skin wasn’t clammy, and he felt alive. His blue eyes shined down on you, and you realized then that he had used his evol to make speckles of yellow light engulf the entire room, creating a starry night scene around you.

“Yes, I’m here, it’s okay.” He said, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles, “I’m not going anywhere, so you can breathe.” He was soothing you, and you were melting into him. It was a nightmare, a bad dream, but it had felt so goddamn real.

“You’re really not going to leave me…” you began, biting your lower lip as you tried not to cry again, “You won’t turn to stardust, right? You won’t die on me, right? You’re gonna stay right here by my side.” You could see the way his eyes widened at your statement before taking on a more solemn look.

“I have never, and will never have any intention of leaving you,” he finally said, “My place is by your side, and I’ll do everything I can to remain by it, to make sure you’re okay.” He promised you, and you nodded.

“And what about you?” your voice sounded so tired, “You’ll make sure we’re both okay, right?” you asked, needing to hear it. Something flashed in his eyes as he took in a shaky breath, then he nodded.

“I’ll do everything I can to make sure we’re both okay.” He settled on. He was sitting up now, dragging you with him as he pulled you onto his lap and pressed his forehead against your own, “I’d never want to see you sad.”

“Then you have to stay alive, no matter what.” You spoke, knowing what you wanted, “Because without you…I…” he could see the tears welling up in your eyes again.

“I know, shhh, I know.” He was rocking you in his arms, “I’ll do my best not to die, okay?” they weren’t the words you needed to hear, but it was a little nice to hear his honesty. At least he’d put in the effort to stay alive for you.

“Okay,” you finally said, the word was barely a murmur as you closed your eyes, “Okay…”

[henry7931]

Swap Short: Thanksgiving Edition

Not My Cousin Andrew’s Body!

Jamie:

I loath the thought of Thanksgiving because my family is so freaking weird! Every year we get together and all of us stay in my Uncle’s house for the night before Thanksgiving. And right before bed all of us are forced to play this dumb game. We call it, ‘guess who.’ (Which is nothing like the board game btw.)

Basically everyone randomly swaps bodies with someone else and none of us know who’s in who. We all have to try our best at pretending to know whoever’s body we’re in that year. And the last two who don’t get guessed correctly basically win bragging rights and like $500. I personally don’t want to participate but I don’t have much of a choice.

So when I arrived at my Uncle’s house, I caught up with my family. I felt the my nerves kick in every time someone mentioned the game.

I looked around the room, thinking to myself who would I be comfortable being for a day. Probably my Uncle Peter or maybe my little cousin Davie. I haven’t swapped with either of them yet. But I know one person who I’d hate to swap bodies with… my cousin Andrew. I find him repulsive!

He’s one of those far right guys who just has the most punchable face you’ve ever seen. He looks like he skips a bath every other day and I’m confident that he’s not a fan of gay people. I don’t know, I try to avoid him at all cost. Luckily I haven’t swapped with him yet and I’m hoping it stays that way.

By the time the night started to wrap up, I was so ready to go to bed. I say good night to everyone and laid in bed slowly falling asleep thinking about who I was going to be in the morning.

The Next Day…

As I wake up, it takes me a moment to get my bearings. It’s just so dark in the room but it doesn’t take me long to realize that I was no longer in the room I fell asleep in.

I stumble to find a lamp and turn it on. As I swing my new borrowed legs out of bed. I stared down at the feet that I now control.

I don’t even get up quickly, my mind races eliminating who I could possibly be until i conform who’s stubby toes I’m looking at. Andrews.

“SHITTTT FUCKKK!!! WHHHYYYYYY!!!!”

I stand up feeling Andrew’s heavier frame move and almost want to cry. I look the in mirror confirming what I already knew.

“Well this fucking sucks.”

I stare at his reflection taking it all in when I realize something else. I’m hard as a rock right now.

The bulge underneath his pjs was begging for my attention. And I didn’t want anything to do with it.

I try to ignore it but it’s difficult. His body is just soo horny!

I walk myself through the logistics and my best conclusion was to just close my eyes and pretend I’m in my body.

So I lay back in bed and pull off the pajama bottoms. And the smell of ball sweat fills my nostrils.

My eyes are still closed and I reach down to touch his dick. As his fingers embrace his dick, I feel a rush come over me.

His dick… it’s so sensitive especially his cockhead.

I trace his fingers along his balls and feel so turned on. And it’s like I don’t even have pretend anymore that I’m still myself. Even in my cousins body, it’s kinda hot jerking off with someone else’s dick.

I pump faster and faster… I start to moan. I open my eyes and stare down at my cousin’s junk.

I bring his fingers up and sniff them… they smell like a jockstrap. Who knows the last time he’s washed his dick.

I pump faster and faster…

And then the freaking door swings open!

“What the fuck!”

It’s my body standing at the door. I thought about stopping but I’m too deep into it.

He slams the door shut and runs over.

“Jamie! What the hell dude!!! Stop playing with my dick in front of me.”

“I… can’t …stop! Your body… it’s too…. Horny!!”

“Shit! Here,” he says pulling my fingers off of his dick.

Andrew wraps his fingers around it and starts working it in a way that feels a million times better.

I can’t handle it! I end up cumming everywhere and he’s now soaked in it.

“Are you kidding me??? God of course this is what happens when I swap with my gay cousin!”

“Oh come on!! It’s your body, you think I wanted to do that?”

“Maybe! I don’t know, you’re the one who likes dick!”

“Well it looks like you enjoyed the show too!”

Andrew looks down and he’s now rocking a boner. His face turns red.

“Did you enjoy jerking yourself off?,” I say to him.

He looks away and groans. “Yeah… it was kinda hot.”

“Yeah well I have to say it was hot watching my body doing the work as well. You definitely know your way with your dick”

I look at my boner and get an idea.

I grab Andrew and tug him into bed.

“What are you doing?”

“A favor.”

I pull off the pair of shorts I had on last night and my dick comes flying out.

“Wait! Are you about to?”

I grab my dick and force it down Andrew’s throat.

“Holy shit!” he screams out.

I put in the work and feel him running my hands over his body.

I run my fingers down my balls to my taint and then my hole. He squirms and lets out a little noise as I insert his digits into my hole. He tries to complain until he realizes just how good it feels.

I then pull back and decided to try something a little more freaky.

I laugh to myself thinking about how much of a mind fuck this has to be for my conservative cousin. I take both of his feet and lick them.

“Fuckkkk why is that so hot to watch,” he says to me.

“Oh you like watching me lick your feet? What if I did this…”

I wrap his toes around my dick and start pumping. He’s moaning so loud now and ends up exploding all over them.

And reaches for one of his feet and rubs the cum covered foot on my face.

“Oh my god, that was… that was amazing…” he says out of breath.

I grin at him and say, “ I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“But don’t get any ideas! I’m not gay!!”

“Are you sure? Because you just rubbed your cum covered foot all over.”

He gets agitated and says, “YEAH WELL! ITS ONLY BECAUSE IM IN YOUR GAY ASS BODY!”

I laugh and say , “then why am I not attracted to girls then Andrew?”

“Well… that’s a good point.”

“So how about you whip off my face and go get ready for the day cuz.”

Andrew grabs my shorts and throws them on.

“Don’t forget my face!”

He turns around and grabs a rag. He whips it and throws it on the ground. I giggle loudly as he storms out of the room slamming the door.

“Shit, that almost made this worth it!,” I say laying back in his naked body.

The rest of the day was fun. Mainly because I got to fuck with Andrew the entire time and he couldn’t say shit!

Andrew sat across from me and I pulled off his shoes. And then just one sock.

I sit back in the chair crossing my arms and stared at him while wiggling his toes.

Andrew gazes at them for a minute before standing up and storming out again.

As the day goes on, I watched my family trying there hardest to put up a front for everyone. My little cousin Davie was the first one out, ironically he swapped bodies with my uncle Peter.

He was pretty easy since he kept talking about how cool it was being an adult. Then it was my dad and my grandpa, then my aunt and her son… soon it came down to only four of us.

None of us were aloud to out one another. Now it’s up to the rest of the family to guess. You have my brother Ashton and my other Uncle Jessie. And then me and Andrew.

But it was one wrong guess that lead me to a victory. ✌️ Yep! I won the game (and so did Andrew technically).

We both got ushered to the front and they asked us to say a few words.

I speak up and say, “Well, I’m happy I swapped with Andrew this year. I feel like we got to know each other better and can’t say we’ve ever been closer. Is that right Andrew?” I say wrapping his strong arm around him.

“Yeah… I agree, we’re so much closer now.”

“Well good job guys!,” I says Uncle Pete in Davie body.

I grin and discreetly grab one of my butt cheeks which causes Andrew to blush.

I hear him say under his breath, “I hate you.”

“Yeah well, you got a few more hours and then we get to do this again next year,” I say softly back to him.

“Great…”

We all head to the dinner table and I purposely sit across from Andrew.

“So who’s ready for some turkey?”

[thebluester2020]

Ok loved the Seb maid post, but now I’m curious about the other Bachelors having a maid kink 👀 Your work is 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Thank you for the compliment, anon! Thankfully, I have a whole laundry list for the bachelors and how they'd be with a maid!reader <3 (Sorry this took so long to get out anon! Thanksgiving break + getting ready for finals, and Christmas has me in a chokehold rn 😔)

Warning(s): Rough Sex (For Shane and Alex mostly tbh), Munch Elliot, Sub!Harvey,

SDV Bachelors Having A Maid Kink

Shane

Y'all already know I have beef with this man so I'll start the slander early.

He's putting you to work, you're going to earn your paycheck when he comes into the cafe. And not through breaking your back trying to fulfill his seemingly never-ending orders of drinks, or him inviting you over to do cutesy hand signs, oh no, that's just part of the job.

I'm talking, he'll be the last customer to leave, and why? Because he has to fulfill his trope of being the "Ugly Bastard" that's always spotted in those NTR mangas (aka bending you over the cashier counter while fucking you to the point of nearly being braindead, all while you tell him how much you just loooveeee your master)

♡ - "C'mon maid, it's like you're not even trying to earn a fat tip."

This guy had been in the cafe since the early evening. For a while now, he'd been watching you and practically breaking your back with the amount of requests he'd been giving you! From requesting drink after drink after drink, to inviting you over to perform little love songs and even draw hearts in his drinks. It'd been non-stop and you were nearly sick of it! So sick of it in fact, that you hadn't even noticed how your customer had been practically eye-fucking you your entire shift. He imagined bending you over and fucking you stupid on almost every piece of furniture available in the cafe.

But his favorite location so far? The cashier counter.

The idea of someone walking in and witnessing him plow the cutest maid of the cafe until she was sobbing for more of his dick had him sporting the biggest hard-on he's ever had in his life.

Luckily, however, his dreams and fantasies seem to be coming true more often lately.

"F-Fuck!" You whined when Shane suddenly slapped your ass, your eyes beginning to well up with tears from the pain as it started to mix in with the pleasure, his cockhead bullying your poor cervix as you grabbed at the edge of the counter for dear life. Shane chuckled when one of your hands came behind you to weakly push at his thigh, hoarse whines and moans of 'Gimme a break' leaving your kiss-swollen lips. "You sure you want a break cutie?" He cooed. "You look like you're enjoying my cock soooooo much though~" As he leaned down, he pressed some of his weight down onto you, his hot breath fanning against your ear as his hands on the sides of your waist pulled you onto his cock even harder.

"If you really want a break, then beg your master a bit more properly."

You sucked in a breath, your pussy clenching harder around Shane's length at the way his words rolled off his tongue. "Well?" He panted, grabbing at your hair to pull your head up so he wouldn't miss anything you said. And eventually, you shook your head, a laugh nearly erupting from Shane as you had basically admitted to him that you loved his cock way too much to even think of a break.

And since that was the case— "Get your hand off my thigh then slut," He tsked. You gasped when he grabbed your wrists and pinned them to your sides, using the new leverage to fuck into you even harder, tearing groans and high-pitched whines from your throat as the feeling of the veins along the sides of Shane's thick cock rubbed against your walls threatened to make your head spin. "L-Love your cock...!" You said, a brainless giggle leaving your mouth at the end. One that nearly made Shane gasp with how much harder he suddenly got at your words and how shamelessly you said them.

"What was that?" Impossibly, he fucked you even harder, the fat of your ass rippling at the sheer force of his thrusts, creating a delicious scene that Shane struggled to take his eyes off of as you tried to look at him over your shoulder. "Say that again."

"M-Master..." You moaned. "L-Love your cock!" Your thighs trembled at the force of your impending orgasm, drool dribbling down the corner of your lips as the knot in the pit of your stomach grew almost unbearably hot. "Iloveitloveitloveitloveittttt!" Your customer smirked at your crying devotion to his dick, his grip around your wrists tightening as a deep groan escaped his throat with how you suddenly squirted all over his dick, your gushing heat pushing him to his own orgasm as he suddenly pressed himself as deep as he could go into your pussy.

A long sigh drew out of your lips, your forehead falling against the counter as you moaned softly to the feeling of your customer's thick cum filling up your insides.

By far, he had to be your favorite master.

Elliot

King of Respect. Very mindful, very demure.

His kink comes in the form of the trope of "Maid does a poor job of cleaning so the master has to teach her how to do her job correctly".

You accidentally spilled tea on Elliot's lap while serving it to him? No problem! Not only would he help you clean, but he'd even give you tips on how to properly serve and clean up your messes, how generous!

In a more straightforward term, it's Elliot being the classical munch.

♡ - Your customer was really good at teaching you how to be a better maid.

When you had accidentally spilled tea on his lap earlier, you had expected him to be angry and cause such a commotion that it'd spark your boss to come out of his office and fire you on the spot! But, he hardly flinched when the room-temperature tea touched him, simply waving it off with a smile and telling you not to worry your head about it.

In fact...he was even willing to teach you how to properly serve tea, as well as how not to spill it so clumsily! And this teaching was, by far, the best one you could have ever gotten from a customer you had just met twenty minutes prior. "Mmm...don't spill the tea dear," Your customer warned from behind you as he sucked your cute clit, slurping up your juices and licking his lips like a dog would lick its chops after a meal. "Otherwise, we'd have to reset the timer, and that wouldn't be fun for you...wouldn't it?" You whined at the feeling of Elliot's long tongue fucking in and out of your cunt, the teacup on top of the serving plate shaking so loudly that you feared someone would come in to witness you being eaten out by a customer.

However, Elliot was good with stealing away any such frivolous thoughts when his fingers began to tease your sex while his lips teasingly kissed your thighs and ass. "Keep still dear," You almost hear the smirk on his ridiculously soft lips. "The cup sounds like it's about to fall~" A shudder ran throughout your body when Elliot suddenly stuck a finger inside of you while his other hand came to massage your ass.

You, oh so badly, wanted to tell your customer to hurry up and make you cum. For the last ten minutes or so, you'd been dangling on the ultra-fine line between cumming and not cumming, each time you'd clench your twitching cunt around Elliot's fingers or your clit would throb in his mouth, he'd suddenly tear himself away and smirk in your face like a wicked fox!

"You can't cum just yet, you haven't learned how to properly do you job yet..." He'd say it in such an alluring voice that it was useless to try and talk back to him, to bat your eyes and attempt to convince him to make you cum. Not that you were complaining exactly, such a handsome man eating you out? His eyes hooded as he focused intensely on his work of making you feel as if you were always seconds away from cloud nine.

And rapidly, you were beginning to approach that peak once again. "M-Master..." You whispered as seductively as you could in the moment without sounding like a shaken-up rabbit. "Please...let me cum," You begged, shaking your ass ever so slightly in an attempt to have his fingers dig further into you.

You clenched when he hummed against you, his fingers leaving your weeping sex with a lewd 'pop'. "Hm...should I?" He moaned when he licked your slick off of his fingers, your taste only making him strain even harder against his slacks. "Have you learned how to properly do your job dear?" You nodded your head all too eagerly, panting out a series of 'Yesyesyesyes!' to your lover as you watched him through blurry eyes slowly stand up from his position behind you. Your tongue licked across your bottom lip as Elliot started to undo his belt.

"If that's the case, I suppose we should put your words to the test, hm?"

Sam

Similar to Sebastion, but I think he would like the possibly of "corrupting" a maid. When he went with Sebastion to Zuzu City and saw how you were doing such a good job, being nice and polite to the customers and generally just being so pretty that he could hardly believe his eyes.

All he could wonder was "What if I molded her to be the perfect maid for me?"

And so he did, classic blondie with blue eyes style, he flirted his way until you (during your work shift mind you!) led him to the storage room in the back and flipped up your skirt for him without a second thought.

♡ - "You're sooooo pretty, miss~"

Amid the lewd sound of your customer's balls slapping against your clit, your skirt flipped up to reveal your ass as your customer currently groped your chest over your clothes. He'd been repeating that same sentence to you for the last few minutes since you had snuck him into the breakroom! Choked-up moans and high-pitched whines tore from your throat as he fucked you into the breakroom's dirty couch, all as if you were some cheap whore!

And to be frank, you might as well have been one at this moment.

Your customer was just too charming when he flirted with you so shamelessly as you worked, nearly forgetting all about his poor friend who eyed you up and down just as much as the blonde did! Thankfully for Sam, however, you found his charms to be just a little cuter, which is why he was balls-deep inside of you right now, cooing all sorts of cute praises in your ear as he hugged your body to his torso like he was afraid that you'd disappear the second he eased up.

"S-Such a cute fucking pussy..." Sam whined in your ear, his rhythm beginning to stutter as he felt himself approaching his high almost embarrassingly fast. "Please...pleasepleaseplease let me cum inside baby," He pleaded. Your cunt tightened around his length at his begging, a gasp leaving your lips when Sam's hand traveled from your breasts to flip up your skirt even more, all so he could rub your throbbing clit. "Fuck!" You cried at the almost mind-numbing pleasure.

Your pulse raced in your ears, your juices dripping from your pussy even more now that he was rubbing your clit like he was just begging for you to go insane! Your arms started to shake, your head lifting tiredly to look over your shoulder at the tear-eyed blonde as you could've sworn you saw hearts form in his eyes when he opened them to look at you. "T-Too much..." You whined. "Baby, please...you're so fucking deep...c-can't handle...it!"

"Yes you can," He insisted before pressing his lips against yours. He whispered a soft 'you have to' against your lips as his lithe fingers increased their movement on your clit even more, constantly switching between a pace of teasingly slow and mind-numbingly fast. Your hand shot to Sam's wrist, fruitlessly trying to get him to slow down before you had let out a drawn-out moan against Sam's lips as you climaxed. Your cunt clenching so impossibly tight on his cock that the blonde could only manage a few more thrusts before he stilled against you with a groan.

The warmth of his cum flooding your insides almost made you sleepy, along with your shaky arms and how tired you were, it only increased that feeling by tenfold as you hesitantly parted your lips from your customer's, a single string of spit still connecting the both of you as Sam held a lovesick look in his eyes.

He took a moment to further catch his breath before he spoke. "When...when do you get off? So I can see you again."

Alex

Okay so hear me out, I can't see Alex going to a maid cafe but—

I can see his grandparents hiring a maid to help out around the house. Every day from 9am to 7pm.

The way you so sweetly helped out his grandparents made his heart skip beats, and the way his grandmother referred to you as a daughter only solidified his budding crush on you!

The final nail in the coffin, however? It was when you were cleaning his room and, in the middle of you changing his bedsheets, the sight of you bent over his bed nearly made him dizzy with how fast blood rushed to his dick.

It was only natural that he decided to fuck you on his bed while his grandparents were out!

♡ - You loved working for Evelyn and George.

When you first came to the valley searching for a job, the older couple hired you without a second thought! And they paid extremely well for such an otherwise simple job description, all you had to do was clean the house, cook a few meals when Evelyn was unable, and even occasionally help Evelyn water her plants! It was the perfect job, and that wasn't even taking into consideration that the couple's grandson was very handsome.

And he thought the same way about you as well. After a long day of working, sometimes he'd be blessed by Yoba enough to spot your skin shiny with sweat. The sight of droplets falling in between the valley of your breasts when he'd see you sitting down for a moment to catch your breath, tired from an hour straight of cleaning...his cock would get hard so fast that it nearly left him dizzy.

Suddenly, he couldn't function right if he didn't quickly excuse himself to go masturbate in the shower, imagining your mouth sucking on his cockhead as he gently coaxed you into taking him even further into your mouth. Your hands bracing yourself against his muscled thighs as the warmth of your tight mouth would eventually have him finishing inside and down your throat.

Alas, it was only a daydream.

Until it wasn't, one day he walked in on you changing his bedsheets, your dress unknowingly riding up your ass as you bent over to fit the sheets onto his bed. The poor guy nearly passed out from how hard he got! Luckily for him and you, he was able to release all that pent-up tension he had for you on you. Which left him with the only viable option left—

Fuck you like a dog on his bed! And thankfully, Alex's grandparents were out.

"Fuucckk..." Alex moaned into your ear, his body currently curled over yours as his arms wrapped around you to pull you even tighter against his body. Your cunt was addicting, in fact, he almost felt insulted that you were walking around his grandparents' house with such an unbelievably tight pussy! Pliant and eager to take every inch of his dick while making the lewdest noises.

"Maybe you should quit being a maid, huh?" He purred in your ear.

You gasped when he nipped the shell of your ear, your arms beginning to shake more and more as Alex fucked into your cunt even harder. His thick length was rubbing against allll the right spots inside of you. "C-Can't handle—Fuck!"

Alex laughed. "C-Can't handle? What?" He mocked you. "My dick? Maybe you shouldn't have looked so good bent over my bed." You could imagine a smirk decorating his face as you felt his dick twitch inside of you, the embarrassing sounds of your pussy seeming to grow louder as you rapidly approached your orgasm. Yet when his cockhead began to batter against your cervix, that delicious sting of pain made you crumble over as you submitted to your sudden orgasm. "Fuck yeah, juussttt like that~"

Alex's hands grabbed at your skin as he leaned back, situating his hands on your hips to pull you back onto his cock even harder as he enjoyed the sight of your gushing pussy practically having a seizure on his cock. When you whined from overstimulation, however, Alex couldn't help but sigh, he almost felt bad that he had to ignore your cute whines for the moment! It was far too hard for him to part from your cute cunt just yet, especially when he wasn't even close to his orgasm. "Bear with me for a little longer, will you pretty?" He chuckled.

"I'm not even close to being finished with you yet~"

Harvey

Kinda similar to Elliot and Alex's in a way? You were hired to help keep his place cleaning, after all, being a doctor meant that Harvey had an extremely busy schedule and thus couldn't be at home all the time!

When he first met you, he already thought you were super kind-hearted and seemed extremely dedicated to your job. He couldn't help how he developed a little bit of a liking towards you at first meeting!

But, like any man, there was always a fall.

And his fall came pretty fast when he came home a little earlier than usual one day, you were on your knees wiping some spilled cleaning fluid off the wooden floorboards.

The outline of your underwear against your dress was so lewd that Harvey fell like a stack of cards against the wind.

♡ - A pair of writhing bodies were on the floor, moaning and panting as hands ran over each other's respective bodies and beads of sweat dripped down their skins. Harvey had a mind to feel bad with how quickly he suggested you clean something else when he had spotted you on the ground, yet luckily for him, you were willing and all too eager to take up a new cleaning task.

One that quickly turned from you sucking him off to you now fucking him like a bitch in heat on the floor, your face tucked into the side of his neck as your ass slapped against his thighs, his hands grasping at your sides desperately in order to further aid you in fucking yourself on his dick.

"Y-Yoba Y/N...t-too fast...!" His moans were so cute, you thought.

But so unbecoming of your master! He was the one who sported an obvious hard-on when you had turned your head to see him staring at your ass so obviously! The least he could do was handle your speed as you fucked him on the floor. "Bear with it, won't you master~?" You pressed a sloppy kiss on his lips, his mustache tickling your face a little before you pressed a hand on his chest to raise yourself up a little. Your cunt clenched tighter around him at the lewd sight before you, your master being flushed in the face with lipstick marks all over him!

Cute pants and whines choked out of his throat along with confused babbling for you to both fuck him harder as well as slow down! It was quite the ego-booster, having a usually composed doctor be so easy to ruin with your pussy. "Oh please, master—" You leaned back down to whisper in Harvey's ear as you slowed down just as he requested, instead grinding back against his cock which seemed to make the doctor whine and grab your hips even louder. "—try to bear with me a little longer, will you please? You're too cute to let go of!" You giggled, your laughter quickly turning into gasping moans as your master started to fuck back up into you.

A tight knot quickly started to form in his stomach, sending him into a spiral of almost blinding pleasure as your pussy was practically begging to suck the cum out of his cock!

He tried to hold back, a weak and needless attempt to impress you more than he already had, but when you had kissed him, tangling your fingers into his hair. That was all he needed before he stilled against you with a muffled cry.

You sighed at the warmth that flooded inside of you, gently fucking yourself on Harvey a little more in an attempt to milk even more of his cum out of him before he whispered 'Too sensitive' against your lips. Thus, you gave him a little reprieve with a smirk. "You've been holding out on me doctor," You chuckled. "We definitely can't stop here!" Your urge to fuck yourself stupid on him grew even more when his eyes widened like a confused puppy's.

You had a new job assignment, fuck your master until he made you dumb on his dick, of course!

[the-bi-space-ace]

I’m Cold

I told you I was back on my Crosshair and Echo bullshit and you couldn’t stop me and I’m back again. This time with another headcanon and a short fic for EchoVember for everyone to enjoy 🩶

I think the phrase “I’m cold.” Became a sign for these two to let the other comfort them. To stop arguments about feeling coddled or not wanting to appear weak. “I’m cold” means move over. Let me take some of the burden. Don’t argue with me. It’s a way to make the other feel better about accepting comfort so they feel more willing to accept it, as if they're helping the other person instead.

How about a cute little fic about how that starts?

Have you ever wanted a fic like "Oh, Shut Up" but the roles reversed? Well, here ya go! Some Echo and Crosshair hurt/comfort for your enjoyment <3

Happy Echovember!

Echo woke to what sounded like the cross of a groan and a whine, high pitched but pained. Instinct threw him to his feet, touching down onto the metal floor of the Marauder, confronted only with the dim light of the bunk room and the subtle snores from his squad. All sleeping except for Wrecker up in the cockpit on watch. It was still deep in the night cycle, their next mission still a rotation out from their current position. There that noise was again. This time Echo could pinpoint where it was coming from. He turned towards it, spotting the restless lump on the bunk across from him. 

Crosshair was sleeping but it wasn’t restful, body tossing and turning underneath the covers. Every so often he let out a noise not unlike the first one. Short gasps and grumbles that could have been words but Echo couldn’t discern what he was trying to say. It wasn’t often that Crosshair got nightmares. There were always times bad dreams plagued them but Crosshair’s were few and far between. It was always possible that he just hid it better than the rest of them, too proud to show himself needing help in front of them. On the rare occasion he couldn’t hide it, usually Wrecker was at his side the second he made a noise, not even bothering to wake him up before climbing into the bunk. Crosshair always grumbled, bit back something snappy about how he’d been woken up, but he let Wrecker lay with him. Maybe that said more about Crosshair’s state in those moments than anything else. 

Another toss, face screwed up in pain, and Echo couldn’t wait any longer. He was careful not to let his feet make noise when he started to tip toe over to the other bunk. Noise behind him drew his eyes upward, meeting Hunter’s gaze as he was midway through tossing his own blanket off. Hunter tipped his head at Echo, eyes darting between him and their suffering squadmate. Was he the best person for this? That he didn’t quite know but he was already out of bed. No need to have someone else take over what he’d already determined he would do. 

Echo paused but flashed a quick hand signal to his sergeant. 

I’ll take point. 

Surprise flashed across Hunter’s expression for only a second then he flashed a quick OK before settling back down in his bunk. Echo could feel the eyes still on him but he’d committed to this course of action and he’d never been one to give up so soon. 

Approaching a squad mate had never felt so weighty before. The dominoes had been loud, excitable, but he’d never felt quite so out of his depth. Perhaps approaching from eye level was safer. Echo crouched by the side of the bunk so he could watch Crosshair’s face, screwed up as it was. Tear tracks ran down his face, unable to stop the emotion while still asleep, leaving a glistening target in the dark. Echo took a deep breath. 

“Crosshair.” Echo whispered. Nothing. Still tossing and turning uninhibited. With gentleness he’d not exhibited in a while he laid a hand on Crosshair’s shoulder, rocking him gently. “Hey, Cross.” The touch woke him almost instantly, breath sucked in through his nose and bleary eyes cracking open. As quick and observant as ever, Crosshair closed his eyes again and rubbed the back of his arm over his face, trying to disguise the telltale sign of tears. 

Echo’s heart squeezed a bit. He didn’t have to do that. Hide. Not from any of them. 

“What do you want, reg?” He bit out. Scratchiness from sleep mixed with a thickness that Echo hadn’t heard from Crosshair before. 

“You were making noise.” Echo said. His hand was pushed away as Crosshair rolled over onto his back, eyes studying the ceiling above him. 

Crosshair scoffed. “Sorry to disturb your sleep, didn’t realize regs needed such perfect conditions to pass out.” He sniffed, rubbing his arm over his eyes once more to confirm he’d gotten all of the tears off of his cheeks. Echo felt like he was trying to approach a scared tooka, one that was one step away from hissing and batting him away. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, ignoring the dig.

“Piss off.” Crosshair bit out, head turning to face the opposite wall. Wasn’t an answer to the question. 

“I get nightmares, too, ya know.” Echo sighed, resting his arm and scomp against each other on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m aware.” He grumbled, letting them fall into silence. The quiet only lasted until Crosshair huffed, turning back onto his side to stare menacingly at Echo. The red rimmed eyes undercut the curated mask. “Just go back to bed.” A dismissal. He wasn’t going to be thwarted that easily. Breaking down Crosshair’s walls took consistency. He was learning the longer he spent with Clone Force 99 that his bond with Crosshair would take work but once it was earned it would be difficult to break. 

Echo was planning on earning it.

“Already awake. No sense going all the way over there again.” Echo shrugged, gesturing behind him with his scomp. All it did was make Crosshair glare a bit harder as if it would scare Echo away from him. Most of the bite to him was to scare people off, not let them too close otherwise they might start to matter. That’s what freaked Crosshair out, Echo was sure of it, that someone new might matter to him and it would hurt if one day they were gone. Better to ruin it before it got to that point, frighten off Echo before he made up his mind and decided to stay for good. 

Not a chance he was letting that happen. 

Echo had twice Crosshair’s weight in stubbornness. Once his mind was made up he was sticking to it, even if he had to get knocked down a few times before he could stand on his own two feet. He met the glare with a raised eyebrow, tipping his head in challenge. 

A petulant eye roll accompanied a tired deflation. “I’m fine, reg. Use your pity on someone else.” 

“It’s not pity. You woke me, remember? This is your punishment for that.” The joke halfway landed, he saw it in Crosshair’s eyes, but it wasn’t quite enough to soften his mood, still grumbling and keeping his feelings too close to his chest. Echo reached his scomp out as an offering, one that Crosshair eyed but didn’t take. Not taking any of the bait. Must’ve been a pretty shitty dream. Echo deflated. His mind raced through options. Whatever he chose to do might get him slapped for his effort with the way his squadmate was reacting. He was at a loss until he shrugged, letting his head lay on his folded arm. 

“I’m cold.” Echo wasn’t sure how he had meant that to sound, how he’d like it to be taken, but waiting was the only way you got an answer out of their sniper. Crosshair watched his face for what felt like a full minute, thoughts racing behind steady eyes, brow pinching with that well earned skepticism. Temperature was almost always consistent on ships, especially theirs. Tech didn’t like it fluctuating too much. Bad for his ship as he’d say. The ‘cold’ was a poor excuse and they both knew it. Giving up was on the horizon, he’d fumbled this interaction enough it was about time to pack it in, but Crosshair surprised him as he often did. 

Crosshair shuffled backwards, making room on the tiny regulation bunk, then lifted the blanket as if offering an invitation. Hesitation would only make Crosshair skittish so Echo took the opportunity in stride and slid into the free space. The mattress was warm, heated by the body recently laying in that spot, and the blanket thrown over his shoulders added to the exchange of body heat. Echo turned onto his back and lifted his arm to let Crosshair scoot forward, tucking into the space to rest his head comfortably on his chest. Echo held him tightly, hand rubbing absentmindedly over the expanse of his back. A weary sigh left the other man’s body, finally melting into Echo’s side like it had brought at least some relief. 

Echo would like to believe that he could still give this kind of comfort. That he wasn’t so changed that his squad wouldn’t want to share such close space with him. He remembered holding Fives like this, carding fingers through his hair. Crosshair’s wasn’t quite as long but it was enough to run the tips of his fingers through, blunt nails scratching lightly over his scalp. 

“Echo?” The muffled voice brought Echo’s eyes downward. Crosshair wasn’t looking at him but he did squeeze tighter into the space, pressing his forehead to Echo’s neck, his arm stretching across Echo’s waist to keep the hold firm. No other words came but he got the message. Whether it was the way he squeezed back or the way his chest stuttered every so often Echo wouldn’t ever divulge. It was enough of an admission. Enough to know he was on the right track. Echo was as content to be the source of warmth for the night as Crosshair was to accept it now. 

Protectiveness swept through him, almost overwhelmingly so. Something in him wanted to chase away all of those sour thoughts. The ones that made pits grow in your stomach and your throat tighten. Make sure none of Clone Force 99 had to hurt, even if that hurt came in the form of nightmares or cold nights. Without thinking too hard about it Echo pressed a quick kiss to the top of Crosshair’s head. “I know, Cross, I know.” 

[nunununuy]

Part 9

Part 8 Part 10

Prince x Fem Reader

Tittle: Changing the Fate of the Third Prince

You sat by the window in your family’s estate, the vast fields of green stretching far into the horizon. The soft golden light of the setting sun bathed the land in a peaceful glow, but inside, your heart felt anything but calm. It had been a few days since you’d returned home, leaving behind the bustling capital and the memories of him.

Rafael.

Even the sound of his name in your thoughts sent a pang of pain through your chest. You told yourself this was for the best—that you couldn’t keep hoping for something you knew would never be yours. He was a prince, destined for greatness, while you were just a marquis’ daughter. In your mind, the image of him with Princess Seraphina haunted you, her laughter and beauty fitting perfectly into his world.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to stop thinking about it. It had been days, and you still couldn’t get him out of your mind. “This is pathetic,” you muttered to yourself, gripping the edge of the windowsill. “He’s not thinking about me. He never was.”

To distract yourself, you threw yourself into anything that could keep your mind occupied. Your family’s estate was vast, and there was no shortage of work to be done.

In the mornings, you helped the house staff with chores, surprising them with your willingness to get your hands dirty. You told yourself that hard work would leave no room for thoughts of Rafael. When midday came, you spent hours in the fields, walking among the blooming flowers, the scents of lavender and wild roses calming your troubled heart.

But no matter how busy you kept yourself, the quiet nights were the hardest. When the world was still, your mind wandered back to him—his rare smiles, the way his sharp eyes softened when they looked at you, the warmth of his presence. Those memories clung to you like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

One evening, as you sat at the small desk in your room, you finally made a decision. You would not let your life revolve around someone who didn’t choose you. You had dreams and ambitions of your own, didn’t you? It was time to pursue them.

The next morning, you rose early, your resolve firm. You spoke to your father, expressing your desire to travel and expand your horizons. “I’ve spent too much time tied to the capital, Father,” you said, trying to sound confident. “I want to visit the southern provinces. Maybe help with the new trade routes. I want to see the world beyond the palace walls.”

Your father looked at you with a mix of surprise and concern. “Are you sure about this? The capital has always been your home.”

You nodded. “I’m sure. It’s time I build something for myself.”

And so, preparations began for your journey. You focused on the excitement of the unknown, convincing yourself that distance was the cure for your aching heart.

But even as you packed your belongings, folding dresses and tucking away keepsakes, a small part of you wondered: would he notice you were gone? Would he miss you?

You shook the thought away. It didn’t matter. This was your chance to move on, to reclaim your life. You were determined to leave Rafael and all the pain behind.

What you didn’t know was that miles away, in the capital, Rafael’s plans to bring you back were already in motion. His knights were ready. He would stop at nothing to have you by his side again. And no matter how far you ran, Rafael would find you. You were his.

---

The continent of Aurelis, where you resided, was vast and diverse, divided into four main regions: Eryndor, the northern region known for its snowy peaks and military might; Zantheria, the fertile heartland rich in trade and culture where the capital resided; Selvaris, the warm, coastal provinces to the south known for their bustling ports and exotic spices; and Draelan, the eastern desert expanse ruled by nomadic tribes. Each region had its own unique charm and resources, creating a delicate balance of power and economy across the land.

You had always lived in Zantheria, surrounded by the endless plains and noble politics of the heartland. However, your family’s business was expanding rapidly. The Marquisate of Linford, known for its luxury goods—fine silks, handcrafted jewelry, and rare spices—was opening new trade routes to Selvaris. The southern provinces held untapped opportunities, with booming markets and lucrative connections to overseas territories.

This was your chance to carve a new path for yourself. While you were officially traveling to oversee the opening of new trade outposts for your family, deep down, you knew it was more than that. It was an escape. An opportunity to leave behind the lingering ache of unspoken love and memories of the capital.

Your journey to Selvaris began just days after you decided to leave. The carriage was packed with essential supplies, led by a small retinue of guards hired by your family for protection. Though you tried to focus on the excitement of the unknown, your thoughts often drifted back to the capital—to the man you had left behind.

---

Meanwhile, back in the capital, Prince Raphael was consumed by a mix of emotions—anger, longing, and determination. The realization that you had left without a word still burned deep within him. The ball, which was supposed to mark the pinnacle of his success and his declaration of love for you, had instead left him hollow.

In the days following your departure, Raphael worked tirelessly. He coordinated with his knights, secured the emperor’s approval for his marriage proposal, and ensured that his mission to retrieve you would succeed. No one—not even you—would deny him what was rightfully his.

He spent hours studying maps of Aurelis, planning the fastest route to your family's estate. Through reports from his informants, he learned that you were heading south to Selvaris. This complicated his plans, as the journey to Selvaris was fraught with danger—bandits, treacherous terrain, and political unrest were common in the southern provinces. Yet, none of this deterred him.

Raphael's mind raced with memories of you: your gentle smile, your unwavering support during his struggles, and the way your presence soothed the storm within him. He clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. You had no right to leave him, to make decisions that excluded him from your life. He would remind you of your place—by his side, always.

---

As you crossed the borders into Selvaris, the scenery transformed. The rolling plains gave way to lush green hills, dotted with olive trees and vineyards. The warm breeze carried the scent of salt from the sea, a stark contrast to the cool, crisp air of Zantheria. The bustling port cities, with their vibrant markets and colorful stalls, brought a sense of excitement you hadn’t felt in weeks.

The new trade outpost you were overseeing was located in the heart of Vallora, a prosperous city that served as a hub for merchants and travelers alike. Your arrival was met with enthusiasm by your family’s representatives, who eagerly showed you the progress they had made.

Throwing yourself into work, you focused on expanding your family’s business. Days were spent meeting local merchants, negotiating deals, and ensuring the outpost ran smoothly. At night, you explored the city, marveling at its vibrant culture and lively streets. Slowly, you began to feel a sense of freedom—a life unshackled by the expectations of the capital.

Yet, no matter how hard you tried to move forward, the thought of Raphael lingered. Was he angry with you? Had he moved on? Did he even care that you had left?

---

Raphael, on the other hand, had never been more determined. Accompanied by a group of elite knights and a carriage bearing his family’s crest, he set out for Selvaris. The journey was long and grueling, but his desire to bring you back drove him forward.

As his entourage approached Vallora, the prince couldn’t help but smirk. The bustling city was alive with activity, yet all he could think about was how he would find you—and how you would finally understand that leaving him had been a mistake.

Soon, Raphael would reclaim what was his. And this time, he wouldn’t let you escape so easily.

___