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00valentina-writes00 · 1 day ago

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Yandere reader with ambessa would be so funny cuz she'd just think you were cute for thinking she needed to be defended and shit... secretly she has no idea you've been eliminating all the people who argue with he run meetings. She appreciates it! She really does! But soon enough they'll be no one left to help her out with battle stuff and... that wouldn't be beneficial :(

♡♥︎ A War Won in Your Name ♥︎♡

Warnings: Yandere!Reader, possessiveness, murder, obsession, dark humor, Ambessa being terrifyingly amused, reader being completely unhinged but affectionate.

Ambessa Medarda was no stranger to bloodshed. It had woven itself into the fabric of her life, stitched into the very armor she donned every morning. Wars were fought in her name, bodies fell at her command, and empires bent beneath the weight of her power. She was a conqueror, an immovable force—unshaken, unbothered, undefeated.

So, really, she should have seen this coming.

She sat at the head of the grand table in her war chamber, her heavy fur-lined cloak draped over her shoulders as she surveyed the emptiness before her. The chairs that once held high-ranking generals, political advisors, and battle strategists now sat vacant, some still slightly pulled out as if their occupants had only stepped away for a moment.

But they weren’t coming back.

Ambessa tapped her fingers against the polished wood, her golden rings catching the candlelight as she leaned back in her seat. The air was thick with silence, an unusual thing in a room that once buzzed with sharp words and tactical discussions.

She knew exactly what had happened.

And, more importantly, she knew exactly who was responsible.

The door creaked open, and there you were, all soft smiles and bright eyes, as if you hadn’t just systematically wiped out half her advisory board.

“Ambessa,” you greeted, voice light, affectionate, as if you weren’t completely and utterly insane. You carried a tray with her evening tea, setting it down before her with the utmost care. “You seemed stressed during your last meeting. Thought I’d bring you something to relax.”

Ambessa hummed, watching you carefully. She had fought in wars against men twice her size, against warriors who could crush steel in their hands—but you, with all your love-drunk devotion and dangerously soft touches, might have been the most terrifying thing she had ever encountered.

She took a slow sip of the tea you offered, holding your gaze over the rim of her cup. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you?”

Your smile didn’t waver. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Ambessa exhaled through her nose, amused. She leaned forward, resting her heavy arms on the table, the sheer size difference between the two of you almost laughable. You looked so small, so unassuming, and yet—

“I need my advisors alive, my love,” she said, voice smooth, patient, as if explaining something to a particularly determined child.

Your lips pursed, a hint of a pout forming. “They were being disrespectful.”

“They were giving me tactical advice.”

“They were questioning you,” you corrected, a spark of something dark flashing in your eyes. “They doubted your decisions. They didn’t respect your authority.”

Ah. There it was. That righteous, unwavering devotion that had you treating her throne like a shrine and her enemies like insects beneath your boot.

Ambessa chuckled, the sound deep and warm, and she reached out, cupping your face in her calloused palm. Her thumb brushed over your cheek, gentle despite the raw strength she possessed.

“You’re a good wife,” she mused, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet her gaze. “A devoted one.”

You leaned into her touch, preening under her praise. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“And I appreciate that,” she said smoothly, fingers trailing down to your throat. Not in a threatening way—no, this was something else. Something possessive. A reminder of exactly where you stood with her. “But you’ve been a little too… thorough in your protection.”

Your brows furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

Ambessa smiled, slow and indulgent, like a lion amused by the antics of a housecat. “There are barely any advisors left, my love. I need men to lead my armies, to organize supply lines, to run my empire.” She squeezed lightly, just enough for you to feel the weight of her touch. “As much as I adore your dedication, you’re making things difficult.”

You blinked, as if the thought had never occurred to you. “Oh.”

Oh.

Ambessa nearly laughed. It was so genuine, so completely absent of remorse, that it only solidified what she already knew: you weren’t doing this out of some grand plan. No, you simply loved her too much to let anyone else speak against her.

How adorable.

She leaned in, lips brushing against your forehead in an almost tender gesture. “No more killing my generals, sweetheart.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Only the disrespectful ones.”

Ambessa pulled back, arching a brow. “All of them have been disrespectful, according to you.”

“Well,” you drawled, tracing a finger along the edge of the table, “maybe they should have thought about that before talking to you like you weren’t their superior.”

Ambessa sighed, though it held no real exasperation. This was a mess, but it was a mess of her own making. She had known what kind of person you were before she married you—had liked it, even. There was something endearing about your unwavering devotion, the way you looked at her like she was something divine.

She just hadn’t accounted for the fact that you would act on those feelings so violently.

“I need my kingdom intact,” she said, voice firm. “Which means I need men to run it.”

You hesitated, gnawing on your lower lip. “Fine.”

Ambessa tilted her head, studying you. “Fine?”

You sighed dramatically, throwing yourself into her lap in defeat. Her arms caught you with ease, as if it were second nature. “Fine,” you repeated, pouting up at her. “I won’t kill all of them.”

Ambessa chuckled, her fingers sliding through your hair. “A compromise, then.”

You hummed, pressing your face into the warmth of her chest. “I just don’t like people talking down to you. You’re Ambessa Medarda. You should be worshiped, not questioned.”

Ambessa’s lips quirked, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You’d see my entire court executed if it meant I sat on a throne unchallenged.”

You didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”

Now, she did laugh—deep and rich, the sound vibrating through her chest. She cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer as she pressed a lingering kiss to your temple.

“You are so lucky you amuse me,” she murmured against your skin.

You grinned, fingers curling into the fabric of her cloak. “Lucky? No. You’re just as obsessed with me as I am with you.”

Ambessa hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps.”

And really, wasn’t that the most dangerous part?

She may not have been as outright unhinged as you, may not have gone around systematically erasing her enemies like a lovesick assassin—but there was something deeply satisfying about knowing that you would raze the world for her without hesitation.

And gods help anyone who thought to take you away from her.

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane drabbles #ambessa headcanons #ambessa x you #ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #ambessa arcane #ambessa medarda #ambessa medarda x reader

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happyheidi · 3 days ago

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If you're comfortable, could you give more details on how you lost weight? Im around the same weight and would love any tips you or any followers have.

Absolutely! Glad you asked because I have a lot to say on the matter. I’ve been very thin my whole life (I was 5’ 9 when I was like 10) but when I entered my twenties a lot of traumatic things happened in my life that I won’t go into but I am 100% sure they were a reason to the quick weight gain. Looking back on it I am sure that I as a result was very destructive with my drinking and eating. And I have Depersonalization disorder (DPD) so I didn’t “see” me go from like 60 kilos to 130. The day I had to stop to catch my breath after a short hill was the day it truly clicked for me that something’s wrong, so I weighed myself and it said 136 kilos (around 300 pounds). That day I said OK, this has to change on a radical scale! So I got real militant with changing what I eat. I dropped bread entirely. So I started eating ‘knekkebrød (google translate says it’s ‘crispbread’ lol idk) w/o butter, and I stopped drinking, started eating healthy and wrote everything down using a calorie counter.

Diets are not the way to go. You just gain weight when you get of it. You have to start eating in a way u feel you can continue eating in the long run!

I didn’t goto the gym a single day during this (I don’t recommend that tho cus I wish I did it. I think it would’ve helped with excess skin. I’ve started working out now tho and I love it. It’s for strength and better mental health not really weight loss.

But yeah. Nutrition is where it’s at. And why are people so anti cheese? lol. I’m a major cheese girl so I asked a nutritionist about it and she said it’s no problem. It has calcium and protein after all. I know it’s best to eat small portions throughout the day. It’s a myth that eating many times during the day is somehow bad, it’s the very opposite as it helps boost your metabolism, which in turn helps you loose weight, so if it you eat smaller portions 5-7 times a day, that’s apparently the best (adjust it to your life tho). That’s what I did

You have to burn more calories than you gain. That’s the whole about weight loss!

The interesting thing, to me at least, is that I was at my healthiest when I was deemed ‘sickly obese’. The reason I know that is because I had a problem with my body (won’t do into detail but it had nothing to do with weight, and so I had bloodwork etc etc done for months and they came back as healthy as all hell .

That has always been really interesting to me. That when I was deemed “sickly obese” my body was the healthiest it’s ever been. Oh well.. just wanted to share that.

try not to get too fixated on the weight tho. it’s how you feel that’s actually important!

Let me know if there’s anything else ur wondering about ;) hope this helped a little 😌❤️

#ask #weight loss #sorry if there’s any spelling mistakes #I’m on the buss just talking about my weight gain and loss #oh well #nothing wrong with that #it’s a human experience #and hello to stretch marks haha #I’m the stretch mark queen!#(was gonna write SM queen for short but uhm…that doesn’t quite work)#long post #text

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corruptedcaps · 3 days ago

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Secret Crush

Amy’s eyes fluttered open, panic immediately setting in as she realized she was bound tightly to a chair. Thick ropes cut into her wrists and ankles. She struggled, breath quickening. Across from her, another figure groaned, Kayla, her high school nemesis, seated in a similar chair, squirming in frustration. Kayla’s glossy blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, her designer clothes crumpled but still perfect. Even tied up, she radiated confidence and superiority.

“Ugh, what the hell is going on?” Kayla snapped, tugging against the ropes. “What kind of sick joke is this freak?" She said pointedly at Amy.

Before Amy could respond with genuine confusion, the door creaked open. In walked Brad, a guy they both knew all too well. For Kayla, this impressive specimen of a man was her newest ex as of a week ago. For Amy though, he was her her secret crush. Even now in her captive state she couldn't help but admire his cocky grin, his sharp jawline and tousled dark hair.

“Brad!” Kayla spat. “Thank god! Untie me now! This freak kidnapped me and—”

Brad strolled toward them slowly, ignoring her demands. “I’ll let you go, Kayla. But only when I’m done.”

Kayla’s eyes narrowed. “Done? Oh my god you did this?”

"You were never the smartest were you K?" He said with a cold grin.

"You're sick! Is this some sort of revenge for breaking up with you? Because if you are wanting to get back together you can kiss that dream goodbye now!" Kayla yelled to an unfazed Brad.

“You dumping me was the best thing to happen to me. I realised you would only ever love one person. Yourself. I decieded I needed to find someone who wanted me. Who always wanted me.” Brad’s eyes flicked to Amy, and a slow smile spread across his face.

Amy’s cheeks turned red. She bit her bottom lip, heart pounding in a confusing mix of fear and anticipation.

Kayla scoffed. “Her? Seriously? Take that fugly bitch see if I care! You two losers can be happy together, just let me go!”

“It's not quite that simple. While I know Amy here has always harboured a secret crush on me, she's not exactly what I'm looking for in a girlfriend.” Brad said. “Well not yet. That's where these come in.”

He turned back to Kayla and produced a pair of oversized hoop earrings, the metal gleaming in the dim light.

“What… what are those?” Kayla’s voice cracked, panic replacing her usual confidence.

Brad grinned. “These little beauties are special. They’re going to take everything that makes you who you are, your beauty, your confidence, your bitchy charm and give it to someone more deserving.”

He slipped the earrings onto Kayla’s ears. Her body arched back violently, eyes wide with shock. A golden light pulsed from the hoops, illuminating the room as her skin paled, her glossy blonde locks darkened, and blemishes appeared across her face. The glow seemed to drain her essence, her cocky demeanor fading into quiet desperation.

“No… no, please…” Kayla whimpered as the light faded. She sat in the chair, her once-perfect appearance gone. Her shoulders slumped, her voice barely a whisper.

Brad plucked the earrings off her and turned to Amy. His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Your turn.”

Amy shook her head, trembling. “I-I don’t think—”

“Trust me.” Brad said softly, placing the earrings on her. “You’ll love it.”

The moment the earrings touched her ears, her head snapped back. A surge of energy coursed through her body. Her lips plumped, swelling into a perfect bitchy pout. Her waist cinched tight, the ropes slipping from her body as her tits swelled, her modest frame transforming into voluptuous curves. Her fingers stretched, nails growing into perfectly manicured talons.

Amy stood, slowly stretching, her movements confident and sensual. She looked down at her new body, her eyes gleaming with delight. A little smirk played across her lips as she touched her new earrings. She ran her hands over her now-flawless skin and luscious hair before turning her gaze to Kayla.

Kayla stared in horror, barely recognizable in her new, timid form.

Amy smirked, cocking a hip. “God, did I look I look that bad? It’s like looking in a funhouse mirror.”

Brad stepped closer, his eyes raking over her. “No one has ever looked that bad just like no one has ever looked as good as you do now Amy.”

Amy smirked, turning on her heel like a model strutting down a catwalk. She ran her fingers down her impossibly smooth legs, tracing her hips before tilting her chin up to admire herself in a cracked mirror on the wall.

“Good?” She purred, eyes locked on her reflection. “No, Brad, I look divine. I look like the kind of woman men worship. The kind of woman who can have anything or anyone she wants.”

She turned back to him, raking her nails along his jawline, her smirk widening. “And let’s be real, I was always meant to be the one on your arm. You just didn’t know it yet.”

Brad grinned. “I do now, Amy.”

She flipped her long, pigtails over her shoulder, rolling her plump lips together, feeling the weight of them, thick, glossy, perfect. Her movements entrancing Brad and making the buldge in his pants grow.

"Please darling, call me Aimee." She grinned as she turned turned, her eyes landing on Kayla, pathetic, weak, utterly plain. A cruel giggle bubbled in her throat as she took a slow, taunting step toward her, ready to berate her some more.

“My, my, my.” She cooed, tilting Kayla’s chin up with a single manicured nail. “Look at you. I mean… I knew you were nothing without your looks, but this?” She snorted, shaking her head. “This is just… tragic.”

Kayla flinched, avoiding Aimee’s piercing gaze. The once untouchable queen bee looked like a lost, mousy little thing, her dark, lifeless hair hanging limply around her gaunt, blemished face.

Aimee clicked her tongue. “Oh, don’t be so shy, Kayla. Where’s all that big, bad attitude now, huh? Where’s all that superior bitch energy you loved to throw around?” She bent down, her voice a stage whisper. “Oh, right. It’s inside me now.” She laughed, tossing her hair. “And God, it feels so much better on me.”

Kayla swallowed hard, looking away.

Aimee sighed dramatically. “Aw, don’t look so miserable, sweetie. I mean, sure, Brad took everything from you, but look on the bright side, you finally get to know what it feels like to be at the bottom.” Her grin widened. “How’s it feel? Being nothing?”

Kayla whimpered, her shoulders caving in. Aimee pulled back with a wicked laugh and turned back to Brad, kissing him deeply on the mouth. "Mmmm being a bitch is making me so horny baby, let's get out of here so you can fuck me in the back of your sports car."

Brad smirked and nodded, pulling her in close. As they walked toward the door, Aimee cast one final look over her shoulder at Kayla, her expression dripping with cruel amusement.

“Bye, loser.”

With that, she and Brad slammed the door shut, leaving Kayla alone in the cold, silent room, a shell of who she once was.

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #evil couple #power transfer #corrupted jewellery #cc2025 #secretcrush

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babybluebae-933 · 3 days ago

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okay but hang on does mike not know that will is lying about the painting? It’s one of the first things eleven tells him in s4; Will is painting something special and she thinks he must like a girl and that’s who it’s for. whyyyyyy would she tell him that if it’s a painting she commissioned for him?

I don’t think the disappointment in the van scene is because he thinks the painting was actually commissioned by el, I think he knows it’s from will, for him. And his wildest dreams have told him that it meant something special. That he means something special to will. It would be crazy for him to say it out loud because they’re best friends. They’re just friends. And he has a girlfriend, who he… cares about.

But somewhere deep inside of him, he was hoping that will would be the brave one. That he would be the one to do it, to say what’s unsaid, to make mike feel better like he always does. Find a way to explain what’s been happening between them the last two years. He wants to talk to him so bad; he calls all the time, but the line is always busy. Is it normal to be this upset over a best friend? He doesn’t know but he can’t think about it, not really.

He thought will would be brave, the one to admit it. I’m not joking, unless you are. I would be with you forever if you just asked, but if you don’t then I never will either and we’ll just stay like this. The only thing worse than loving you would be losing your friendship. Have you ever felt guilty about how much you cared about a friend that was actually just a friend?

He has just realized what he wanted. It came the closest to the surface that it ever has, he was as hopeful as he ever has been. But it turns out its from el. Or at least that’s what will wants him to think, and why would he lie about that? Friends don’t lie. Will won’t say anything; it was stupid to think that he would anyways.

If mike wheeler had one fucking brain cell to spare, he would figure out that will lied about the painting because he loves him. He made it for him because he loves him, and he lied about who it’s from because he loves him. But that sounds too good to be true, so he concedes within himself and says okay, maybe will made this for me because he cares about me but more important than that, he wants me to be with eleven. It doesn’t even occur to him that will could want to be with him but would rather mike stay with el and never find out the truth if that’s what would make him happiest.

He’s smart enough to figure out what’s really going on in the van scene, he’s just not confident enough to believe that it could be real. It is too good to be true, so it must not be.

Mike is realizing in this moment that he is upset that the painting is from his girlfriend not will. It’s obvious if he did have any feelings for mike, he doesn’t want to share them. And he wants mike to be with el. And because mike cares about will more than anything, that’s what he’ll do. Will told him to say the thing to el? He’ll say it. Will told him el loves him and needs him? That’s where he’ll be.

It’s the same look at the end of s3 after el kissed him and said she loves him back.

Wasn’t that exactly what I wanted?

Why does it feel like this?

Why doesn’t it feel good?

Why am I thinking about will?

There are some desires held so deep within us, you can’t even acknowledge the possibility of it until it’s actually physically happening, it would be too devastating otherwise. To admit even to yourself, that you want this thing that is so stupid and so impossible and so weird and so unacceptable. It’s better to never acknowledge what you want than it is to really really want something that you can’t have. Especially about this stuff. Because it doesn’t end at feelings for will, if this happens it means the entire rest of his life is different. And that sounds dramatic but really it’s not, what if I acknowledge my feelings for this person and what they really are, and what if I can’t have it? My world is shattered, the bubble is burst. And I don’t even get what I wanted. Especially in the 80s. he would be ostracized, judged. Different for life, weird for life. If he can’t have what he really truly wants, why shouldn’t he have the next best thing? A normal easy uncomplicated life with eleven. With a girl.

Mike is smart we’ve seen that. I think he knows el didn’t commission the painting. He's upset that will said the painting is from el, and he’s upset that deep down he really wanted it to be from will. But he doesn’t know what this kind of upset means, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

mark my words s5 will be PACKED full of anxious overthinking overanalyzing mike wheeler and i cannot fucking wait.

#byler #byler nation #byler s5 #the van scene #mike wheeler #will byers #mike and will #the painting #byler brainrot #stranger things s5 #mike wheeler i know what you are #wiseheart

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joongieology · 6 hours ago

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My Wife? My Wife. | Park Seonghwa

Pairing: Husband!Seonghwa x Wife!Reader

Genre: Arranged Marriage, Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!! jealousy, possessive!Seonghwa, simp!Seonghwa, cussing, nudity, mention of worshipping, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), endearments (let me know if I missed something!)

Sypnosis: You're at a Gala waiting for your husband, when you bumped into someone you knew from your university days. To say your husband was jealous would be an understatement.

Note: This is the first time I wrote smut...hope you'll like it!!

Disclaimer: The following content is a work of fiction and does NOT represent the written member in any way. You're responsible for the content you consume.

You're standing on the marble floor of one of the biggest hotel around the world, with your mask in place, and your hand gliding over the slightly wrinkled part of your beautiful red dress, attempting to straighten it.

You're at a Masquerade Gala today, your 'husband' nowhere in sight. He did say he's going to be late—well, technically, his secretary did—but you still felt nervous and out of place. You looked around, everyone wearing a mask, but you're sure that these people are very important people, just like your husband.

You're husband is the young CEO of a big food company, passed down to him by his father, who retired early to 'enjoy the rest of his life'. You, on the other hand, is the heir to your mother's famous fashion brand.

You both never really did anything like other couples do, because your marriage was just out of convenience for both companies, but of course, you have to act like the perfect couple in public, under the watchful gaze of thousands of people who knew you both. Being the children of your popular parents certainly isn't as wonderful as others think.

Your thoughts were interrupted when someone gave you a tap on the shoulder. You turned around, facing the masked man with two glasses of wine in his hands. He looks familiar.

"Want one?" He asked, pushing one of the glasses near you.

"Thanks." You took the glass with a small smile, not wanting to seem rude, though, you wouldn't drink it, the fear of getting poisoned again made you wary of other people offering you food or drinks. Does he recognize me?

Back then, you were at a party organized by your mother, when one of her friends' daughter offered you a glass of champagne. Not thinking much, you drank it without hesitation, but it tasted weird and bitter. Suddenly, you had the urge to puke, and good thing you did, because it contained some kind of cleaning substance. Your mother noticed you immediately among the crowd and brought you to the hospital before anything worse could happen. Later, you found out she did that out of jealousy. Ever since then, you never ate anything anyone gave you, unless you saw it being prepared.

He tapped you slightly on your arm this time, waking you back to reality.

"Are you okay?" He sounded genuinely concerned.

"Y-yes." You choked out a forced chuckle.

"Do you remember me? It's Joong." He confessed, seeing the wariness in your eyes.

With that, your eyes widened and you suddenly found yourself hugging him. He wrapped his arms around you too, smiling a little.

"Oh my gosh! It's been so long!" You were ecstatic to meet him again, your college best buddy. You two always hung out back in your univeristy days, whether while studying, or doing club activities, you were always with him, and him too.

He pulled away from the hug, chuckling, tucking the fallen strand of hair from your bun, behind your ear.

"Yes, it has, indeed. We've both been very busy." That's true, after graduating university, you both had to work for your parents' company, not having time to hang out or catch up with each other anymore.

Suddenly, you felt an arm wrap around your waist. Startled, you looked up at the person, then sighed of relief.

Park Seonghwa.

Even with a masquerade mask on, you still recognized him. How would I not recognize the man I love?

"So it was true." Your gaze shifted upon Hongjoong who was smirking, looking at Seonghwa's arms around your waist then back to meet Seonghwa's eyes.

"It is, of course. You thought you had a chance?" Seonghwa's mocking tone with a mix of anger confused you. What the hell are they talking about?

Before you had the chance to ask, your husband took your hand and pulled you to the elevator.

You looked up at him while he's just staring at the elevator's door, eyes sharp, his grip on your wrist like steel.

When the elevator opened, he dragged you to a room, tapping the card on the lock. He didn't even bother to turn on the lights before pinning you against the wall.

"You think you can just flirt with whoever the fuck you want when I'm not around?" His face so close you can feel his breath on your lips.

"I wasn't flirting with him, I was just—" before you could finish your sentence, he buried his face on the crook of your neck and wrapped his hands around you, inhaling your scent then started planting small kisses from your neck to your shoulder blades.

"You're"—kiss—"mine,"—kiss—"you got that?" His stare made you feel butterflies on your stomach. He was so close that you can feel his hot breath hitting your lips, your body starting to feel hot too.

"God, I've been wanting you for so long." He uttered with his deep voice, looking at your lips then back to your eyes. His lips mere inches away from yours.

Fuck.

You couldn't hold back anymore. You crashed your lips to his, moaning at the feeling of his lips against yours. You felt him smile before he started kissing you passionately, like a man starved for days.

His hands started roaming around your body, hands touching every inch of your skin, leaving not an inch untouched. He took a hold of your hips, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist. When you did, he walked over to the bed, gently laying you down with him on top, not breaking the kiss.

He unzipped your dress, pulling it down then throwing it somewhere in the room. Then, he removed his clothes one by one, leaving both of you in your underwear. That's when he broke the kiss to look at you.

"God, you're fucking beautiful, so damn beautiful, like always." He couldn't help but repeat his praises towards you, finally saying the things he failed to tell you before. He knew he wasn't a good husband to you, and you deserved better, which he, will become better for you. He was the one who planned for you to marry him, kneeling in front of his father, asking for permission to marry you. You didn't know the lengths he had to go through in order to get married to you, and he planned to keep it a secret forever. He would never let others have you.

He started kissing you again, moving over to your neck and all over your stomach, then he came face to face with your clothed core.

"May I?" He asked for your permission first. He would never do anything to you if you're not comfortable with it. He respects you above else.

When you gave him a nod, he gave you a kiss on the forehead first before he unclasped your bra and removing it.

He was looking directly at your eyes while removing your panties and crashing his lips to your wet pussy, finally tasting you. You moaned in surprise, feeling the soft pillowy lips of his against your bare core. You felt his tongue lick long stripes from your core to your clit, then he slowly put in a finger inside you. He started slow, gradually incresing in speed.

Your moans were like music to his ears, something he can listen to 24/7. Even the feel of your hands pulling on his hair felt oh so good. Fuck, he could worship your body all day if you'd let him.

He sucked on your clit then added another finger inside you, his other hand busy fondling with your breasts.

"Honey, faster please." You plead breathlessly. He was taken aback by the endearment, but it sure as hell made him harder.

"My pleasure, wife." He smirked against your clit before sucking it harder and fingering you faster.

He felt your pussy tigthen around his fingers, indicating that you're nearing your orgasm. He moved over to your breast, sucking each of them alternately without his finger stopping.

"Fu-fuck, I'm cumming—" your orgasm hits you before you can even finish your sentence.

Slowly removing his finger inside you, he hugged you while you catch your breath, his head on top of yours. That's when he pulled back and looked at you with a suggestive smile.

"Care for another round?"

Feedbacks are highly appreciated!!

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bookworrm1999 · 3 days ago

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How Far Away? Part 10

Caleb x Mc

Tags: unplanned pregnancy, presumed death, depression, miscommunication

Summary: Mc and Caleb fight right before he goes on a long mission into space. Caleb ends up MIA while Mc finds out she's pregnant. She struggles to deal with the grief while Caleb is fighting for his life to make it back home to her.

AO3

Caleb and you were back in your old apartment in Linkon, a thin layer of dust covered everything as you had been living exclusively at Caleb’s house for a few months now.

You were back in Linkon for your anatomy scan, after the scan, you were going to meet up with Sylus.

Hopefully, he’d be able to help find Ever’s old research in the abandoned buildings of the N109 zone. You were also hoping to ask if he would help Caleb, Sylus’s proficiency in programming and machines would surely help with Caleb’s arm and chip.

It was a few hours until your anatomy scan and you were trying to pack up your apartment. Moving in with Caleb permanently seemed to be the best option now. Keeping an eye on each other but also letting Caleb be there for you, experiencing pregnancy in person rather than over video.

You started to zip your clothes up in vacuum sealed bags, Caleb was taking all of your decorations and putting them in boxes to go to Skyhaven.

Your furniture was going into storage via a moving team later today until you could figure out what you wanted to keep.

With your situation being the way it was, you had contacted your captain and let her know about the situation. Well a watered down version anyway.

She had set up a long distance link to your laptop so that you could work from home for the foreseeable future. You wouldn’t be heading out into the field any time soon.

Things were wrapping up quickly but you did send a message to Tara letting her know what was happening. You had been ignoring her but she was your friend and deserved more than silence.

You messaged Xavier too, letting him know you were moving.

Telling Zayne could come later as you had a meeting with him too.

Finishing your room up, you slowly pulled yourself up off the floor to stand. Groaning as the shift in your center of gravity made it harder to do anything.

Caleb heard this and came running in.

“What’s wrong? The baby ok?”

Laughing and waving him off, you defend yourself

“This is normal in pregnancy, you’re going to have to get used to that. Everything is different, I can’t move fast, get up and down quickly, and my body has weird aches and pains now.”

He comes over to lay a hand on your belly, rubbing it gently.

“I don’t know if I want to get used to you being in pain. I hate that I can’t do anything.”

“Sure you can! You can give me massages, make food for me, rub my feet, get me whatever I need.”

Raising an eyebrow, he laughs

“Sounds more like I’m your personal assistant than your boyfriend. But if you need a massage, I can give you a good one… from the inside.” Waggling his eyebrows in suggestion.

You two hadn’t gone further than kissing and cuddling the past two days. Caleb joked about it but he was the one who was nervous about crossing that line now.

Poking his stomach, making it flinch instinctually

“Uhuh, it’s been so long, I don’t even know if you can get it up anymore. I can’t even remember what it feels like.”

Turning, you raise your hands and shrug dismissively.

Hands come around you and pull you back, his mouth against your neck, hot air tickling you as he speaks.

“Oh you’re going to regret that.”

“Down boy, keep it in your pants until tonight. We still have work to do. The appointment is in an hour.”

Caleb sighs, kissing you before letting you go.

“Aye aye captain.”

Arriving at Akso Hospital with Caleb in tow made you inexplicably happy inside.

Maybe it was because everytime that you had come here in the past months had been by yourself, experiencing your baby growing all on your own.

Having him here now felt like a miracle after thinking he was dead once again.

You were called back into the ultrasound room where a technician awaited you.

They directed you until you were all set up, shirt up with jelly on your belly.

And there they were, the cutest little baby.

Caleb let out a loud whoosh of air as he experienced this for the first time in person

Squeezing your hand, you squeezed back as he held a hand to his eyes. Tears leaking out of the corners as emotions overwhelmed him.

“We’re making our own little family.” He whispered

“That’s right baby, just us against the world.” You raised his hand and kissed it gently, rubbing his knuckles with your other hand, grounding him in the moment.

“Alright Mom and Dad, ready to hear the baby’s heartbeat?”

“Yes!” You both answer enthusiastically. The fast little heartbeat filling the room, making this moment all the more real.

“Now before I forget and let it slip my mind, are we finding out the gender today?”

You had opted to wait until the anatomy scan instead of finding out via blood tests earlier. Wanting Caleb to be a part of the big moment. Looking at each other, you both knew the answer.

“Yes.”

“Great! It looks like you’re having a little girl. Congratulations!”

A girl, the thoughts of the future you want to come about play in your mind. You wanted to protect the phantom of your daughter playing in your mind.

Seeing her play outside in the garden, hopping after grasshoppers, picking flowers to put in the middle of the table, dancing with daddy while wearing mommy’s too big shoes.

She deserved a safe place to grow up and as her mom and dad, you two had to work hard at this plan to provide that for her.

Looking at Caleb, you could tell he was having similar thoughts.

So you squeezed his hand,

“A girl!”

“I hope she looks like you.”

“I hope that she looks like both of us.”

“Fair point.”

The rest of the anatomy scan went well and you headed to a small cafe nearby.

All of the info that Sylus needed and your proposal in a folder in your bag.

Caleb was taking backseat in this but he offered emotional support.

Sometimes you really did think of him like an emotional support dog.

Sitting at a table, you patiently waited for Sylus while Caleb grabbed you a sandwich and a lemonade for you from the counter.

“Hello kitten.”

Looking up, Sylus was there, taking up all the presence in the room.

Your sandwich and drink were smacked down in front of you, Caleb sat roughly beside you.

Not saying a word but crossing his arms, staring distrustfully at Sylus.

You patted his thigh, reminding him silently to loosen up. Sylus was a big part of making your plan succeed after all, not to mention Sylus wasn’t really threatening despite appearances. Feeling Caleb loosen up beneath your hand, you turned your eyes back to Sylus.

His eyes had been tracking all of your movements, he smiled and sat down.

“How have you been?”

“I’m surprised you don’t already know with how you keep an eye on things. I’ve seen Mephisto in the vicinity here in Linkon.”

“You forget that you’ve been out of town often for the past few months.”

“Still.” You wave your hand at him disbelieving.

“ I did notice that you had been visiting the hospital and that you haven’t been working, so I assumed it had to be something with your heart.”

“Well, not quite.”

You stood up and pulled your coat back to expose your burgeoning belly.

The only tell in his expression was his eyes widening as he took in the sight of your pregnancy.

“I see, how did this happen?”

Laughing at the question, “What do you mean, how did it happen? The way it usually happens.”

“I’m just surprised, I didn’t think you were looking to settle down like this so soon.”

“It was a surprise but a happy one.” You reached up and grabbed Caleb’s hand. “We’re very happy but that’s what leads me to why I called you out here.”

“And?”

“It’d be better if you just saw for yourself.” You handed over the information and the proposed plan in the folder.

His eyes quickly scanned the papers, taking it in fast as expected of the leader of Onychinus.

“And you need my help?”

“Yes, they’re not just threatening Caleb and I, but also our baby. We could use your technical expertise in helping with his arm and chip, Phillip’s help too if possible.”

“I don’t know much about these programs. Ever keeps these under tight control. But you must have some way to get them or this plan wouldn’t go far.”

“They’re actually right under your nose Sylus, their old labs that have their notes on the old experiments are in the N109 zone. Caleb will be getting the notes on his arm and chip himself.”

“Hmmm, I can see that this would also benefit me and finally have something to hold over them. This research into protocores in humans is definitely interesting. Perhaps this will let me pay back the favor they bestowed upon us when they framed me for those explosions so long ago.”

“Yes, I’m hoping that this provides some incentive for you. We will take care of some of the people behind it all but the company will still exist; you’d just have to deal with them running around with the head cut off.”

“Very well, I accept. I can assist with the search in the N109 zone for the labs.”

“You’ll be working with Caleb mostly, it’s not safe for me to be out pregnant anyway but we also don’t want Ever to get wind of our connection or my pregnancy.”

The two men size each other up, knowing each other through hearsay and their own investigation but never really crossing paths.

“Can I trust you two to play nice?”

Sylus smiles and leans back nonchalantly, crossing a leg over his knee and crossing his arms.

“I’m always a perfect angel.”

Caleb snorts but agrees to play nice.

“Perfect!”

Sylus gets up to leave, taking the folder with him. He stops and looks back at you, eyes lingering on your hidden belly below the table.

“Congratulations.” His voice sounding a bit choked and sad, not really matching his words. You smiled and thanked him anyway.

Leaving you and Caleb behind, you picked up your sandwich and started eating.

“I don’t like him.”

“Is there anybody you like?”

“You and this sweet girl.” His hand brushing over your belly lightly.

You pout and whine

“I thought I was your sweet girl?”

“I can have two sweet girls!” He says alarmed

“Kidding, she’s my sweet girl too after all.”

Laughing at his sensitivity, he hated making you upset, he seemed to think you’d cry at the drop of a pin. Well, you did sometimes but he doesn’t have to point it out so much.

You and Caleb were waiting in your apartment for the movers to finish taking your stuff to storage. Arranging for Zayne to meet you here and thankfully his schedule happened to align.

Bringing your lemonade home from the cafe, you leaned against the kitchen counter while sipping it thoughtfully.

Sylus would certainly help but you’d most likely need Phillip’s help as well. He was a part of the team that Grandma worked on, he probably knew about Caleb too. Phillip working alongside Sylus to figure out the technical side was all they had to go on.

The real problem was where the work would take place, they’d need some time to study the research when they found it and study Caleb himself.

Caleb had that room in his home where he took care of his arm; but you don’t know if you could convince him to let three different people that he didn’t really trust into it.

The door was propped open as the movers took things out and to a van.

Zayne sidled through the door, looking around with a vague interest.

“I see you’re moving out.”

“Well, we’ve made it official after all. No sense in staying here or keeping it when I’m going to live with Caleb, raising a baby takes a lot of your time after all.”

“Right.”

Caleb stood in the corner, leaning against the wall and keeping a sharp eye on Zayne.

“So what is this about?”

You had prepared a different file for Zayne as you needed him for the more medical side of things.

Risking going to another doctor for help in taking out Caleb’s chip and anything that needed modifying physically with Caleb’s arm; it was out of the question.

Ever had their fingers in a lot of pies and you needed someone you could trust.

Sliding the folder over to him, you watched as he flipped through it. He frowned and looked between you and Caleb.

“I don’t have much experience in surgery in the brain, I could help with the arm but the brain isn’t my expertise.”

“I realize that but you’re one of the only people I know I can trust with this.”

Zayne sighs, bringing his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“It seems like there’s a big overarching story to this, do I even want to know?”

“It’s up to you, I’m willing to tell you but we really do need your help.”

“I suppose I can do some research and practice into refining my surgical techniques for the brain. But you have to realize that this will be a big risk for you.” Zayne looks to Caleb for this.

Caleb nods

“I know. But to make sure she’s safe and our baby is safe, I’m willing to risk it.”

“You’re always willing to risk yourself. It drives me nuts.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.” You sigh, not really meaning it.

Zayne looks vaguely uncomfortable, turning his head to the side to clear his throat.

“I appreciate your trust and faith in me. I will do my best to fulfill them.”

“Thank you Zayne, I know this is a lot to ask but we do appreciate it. We’ll contact you when we’re ready for your help.”

“Right, I’ll get going then.”

He turns and heads out the door without another word. A mover comes in after him, picking up a table before heading back down.

Caleb comes over to you, sliding an arm around your waist. Pulling your back into his chest and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Well, we got the help we need. Now we just need to move forward with the rest of the plan.”

“Right, Sylus will conduct the search in the N109 zone for now but you said that you’ll be heading to meet the Professor next?”

“Yes, he’s one of the people who worked on upgrading my arm and implanting the chips. The rest of the research we need will be with him.”

“Will you kill him then?” Talking about murder so casually was a bit unnerving but it was necessary.

“Maybe, I need to make it look like an accident so that Ever’s head won’t go into hiding or become suspicious.”

“Things are moving so fast now.”

“They need to.” His hand cupped your belly protectively, a visible timer for their plan

Caleb had liaised with Sylus recently, Sylus had found the old labs with little issue. The paper copies sent to them for safe keeping while the digital copies were destroyed on the old computer. Ever would never get their hands on their old research, finding it a lot harder to recreate what they considered to be a success in experiment 001.

He was standing outside the Professor’s home, everyone else out except for his target.

Sylus had provided him with a drive that he could plug into the computer, it would copy everything and then kill the original system, wiping it all.

It made Caleb itch to rely on Sylus like this but the truth was that he had better access to the black market than Caleb did.

She trusted him and Caleb trusted her.

Taking a deep breath, he fell back into his role of obedient attack dog, the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel.

Stepping into this house for what hopefully was the last time, all he could feel was a sense of anticipation and anxiousness. All he had to do was get in, copy the drive and find a way to kill the Professor without suspicion.

Everything depended on how well this went.

Tags: @moonberry69 @supermyeon22 @tinnyrabbit @gavin3469 @marina27826 @crowleysthings @tabi-callico @midiplier

@his-ocean-emissary @rosalyne08

@xaviers-pookie-bear @tsunamethyst @thejujvtsupost @cherrybeomgyu

@gojosballsack69 @apple-lov3r @dinochocochip @violetpurplez @raiyuxa @nickibunny23 @sh3sa1dwhat @playboygeniusphilanthropist @flwerie @lynnlovesthestars @twilightsmissingfur

@kasuumi @i-messed-up-big-time @mcdepressed290 @mc-cos-charm @needsleep3000

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #fanfiction #caleb x mc #caleb x reader

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rockspider556 · 1 day ago

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THE OFFICIAL TEMP & PROBIE SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR STATION 118

(Or: How to Survive the Most Dysfunctional Yet Effective Firehouse in the LAFD.)

Introduction

So, you’ve been assigned to Station 118. First off, we’re sorry. You must have angered someone in upper management.

If you’re reading this, you are either a temp firefighter, a probie, or you lost a bet. Regardless of how you got here, you’re in for an experience that will leave you questioning everything, including basic physics, firehouse professionalism, and whether two men can be so in love that an entire station just collectively decides to never say anything about it.

You will get attached. You will get confused. This guide is here to help you survive the madness.

Rule #1: Don’t Question it

Did you just see a firetruck jump a freeway divider? Did a firefighter just bench-press another firefighter for fun? Did the captain just predict an emergency call before it came in?

Yes. Yes. And absolutely yes.

It’s best if you just roll with it.

Rule #2: The 118 attracts weird calls- Accept this

You’ll see things. Terrible things. Confusing things. Things that should not be physically possible. Examples from past rotations include:

✅ Someone flushing a baby down the toilet

✅ A fighter jet in someone’s living room

✅ More natural disasters than statistically possible

✅ Situations so baffling even Bobby Nash, the most experienced firefighter here, will have to take a deep breath before dealing with them.

Just accept that this station is cursed and move on

(If you hear the words “raccoon” and “rescue” in the same sentence—walk away. We do not talk about the raccoon incident.)

Rule #3: If you cant find Buck, look for Eddie

If you can’t find Eddie, look for Buck.

If you can’t find either, follow the noise.

🔹 Loud crash? They’re there.

🔹 People shouting their names? They’re definitely involved.

🔹 Unnecessary heroics? Yep, that’s them.

Do not attempt to separate them. That is above your pay grade.

(Exception: If Bobby tells you to separate them, congratulations! You’re now part of the problem.)

Rule #4: If someone says “PROBIE, CATCH!” - DO NOT CATCH

Just duck- trust us

🔹 If Buck yells it, it’s already airborne.

🔹 If Chimney yells it, it’s a prank.

🔹 If Hen yells it, catch it and don’t ask questions.

🔹 If Bobby yells it… it’s probably too late.

Rule #5: Be nice to Christopher

Christopher is Eddie’s son. He is the unofficial mascot of the 118 and the only person who can tell Buck to shut up and have it actually work.

Christopher is amazing, and if you are even slightly rude to him, you will be immediately ejected from this station, either professionally or physically.

(Seriously. If Buck finds out you’ve upset Chris, you might just get yeeted out of the firehouse. You think we’re joking? We are not.)

Rule #6: Hen knows everything

You cannot hide anything from Hen.

If you did something embarrassing, Hen already knows.

If you have a dumb question, Hen will answer it—but with judgment.

If you think you can outsmart her, you are wrong.

Your best course of action? Accept your fate.

(Bonus Tip: If you ever need good advice—about firefighting, life, or avoiding Chimney’s latest scheme—ask Hen. She’s your best hope.)

Rule #7: Chimney is either your best friend or your worst nightmare

You will never know which until it’s too late.

If Chimney is laughing at you:

🔹 You fell for a prank.

🔹 You are about to fall for a prank.

🔹 Something ridiculous just happened, and Chimney has already made it his personal mission to bring it up forever.

Do not trust him if he says, “Hey, Probie, can you do me a favor?”

That’s how it starts.

(Exception: If Hen is also involved, run.)

Rule #8: The unofficial married couple energy is strong

They’re even co-parenting a child

At some point, you will witness the following:

🔹 Buck and Eddie bickering like they’ve been married for ten years.

🔹 Buck casually doing things for Eddie like an overenthusiastic husband.

🔹 Eddie rolling his eyes but secretly loving it.

🔹 A conversation that consists entirely of looks, and yet somehow they both understand exactly what’s being said.

Do not ask if they are together. Do not point out that they should be together. This has been an ongoing, slow-burn situation for years, and apparently, we’re all just waiting for them to figure it out.

(Side note: If Chimney is also in the room, he will absolutely narrate their moments like a nature documentary.)

Rule #9: Expect unnecessary displays of strength

Someone at 118 will, at some point, decide that carrying you, the ambulance, or possibly a full-grown cow is a totally normal thing to do. Don’t fight it. Just nod, say “Wow, that’s impressive,” and move on.

Rule #10: Never underestimate Bobby

Captain Nash is somehow aware of everything at all times. If you break a rule, he already knows. If you get involved in nonsense, he saw it coming. If you think you’re being sneaky, you’re not.

Just be honest. It’s easier for everyone.

(Exception: If Buck tells you to do something, assume it is not captain-approved and proceed with extreme caution.)

Rule #11: You will never be the “Alpha” here

It doesn’t matter how strong, fast, or experienced you are. The 118’s hierarchy is absolute and was forged in a trial-by-fire (literally). The sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be.

The pecking order usually goes like this:

🔹 Captain Nash – Sees all, knows all, somehow controls all.

🔹 Hen – The mom friend. Respected. Will roast you if necessary.

🔹 Chimney – The chaos gremlin. Somehow both responsible and unhinged.

🔹 Eddie & Buck – The human embodiment of “Do first, think later.”

🔹 Bobby’s Cooking – It has its own level of authority. Respect it.

🔹 You – The probie/temp.

(Note: If Bobby ever calls you by your full name instead of your nickname, start updating your résumé.)

Rule #12: You will not leave the same as you arrived

If you survive your rotation at the 118, congratulations! You will now find every other station shockingly boring.

Common side effects include:

✅ An instinctive sigh whenever you hear something crash, followed by, "What did Buck do?"

✅A strange desire to always check on Christopher, even though you are no longer responsible for him.

✅ Uncontrollable frustration that Buck and Eddie still haven’t figured it out.

✅ A deep, unshakable feeling that, despite the madness, you kind of miss it.

If you experience these symptoms, don’t fight it. You’ve been claimed by the 118.

🎉Welcome to the weirdest, most dysfunctional family in the LAFD. 🎉

And remember: If they ever actually kiss, you were here first.

May Bobby Nash have mercy on your soul.

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aerinmoriarty · 3 days ago

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(the forgotten Masc photoshoots)

I believe Taylor has been through 2 attempts to have a Masc Era, with the first starting to be rolled out in late 2014.

Many of us are familiar with the Wonderland photoshoot. It blessed us with some of the best pics of Boyfriend Taylor we’ve ever received. But what if I told you there were others?

This photoshoot was likely done on Sep or Oct of 2014. You all may remember what else was going on in 2014. Big Sur in March, tons of photo shoots of Taylor and Karlie throughout the year, more instances of them stepping out together. They were inseparable all summer.

Then 1989 releases in Nov with its heavily queercoded lyrics and references in Welcome to NY and New Romantics with their explicit support and acknowledgment for queerness.

And right around the time of the amazing Wonderland photoshoot and the 1989 release, Karlie and Taylor were seemingly stepping out together more officially. Like it is so unreal to me that this:

And these:

All happened the same month. But there are also additional photo shoots that happened around this time, or in Nov of 2014 that show that this was not just a single isolated photoshoot.

There were a couple of more neutral or femme shoots that had more masc shots included:

There were also shoots where the expressions, outfits, etc are either more masculine or heavily queerflagging.

But I especially love this British Vogue fashion shoot Taylor did cause it’s such a callback to the original New Romantics, a movement that started out in the UK.

There are just so many good photos in here and I suspect there are other photoshoot goldmines I have yet to discover. So I highly recommend we all do more research because I think there is a lot of Boyfriend Taylor that has been lost (or at least rendered harder to find over the years). I need to do some deeper digging to see what else I can find. (And I haven’t posted em all here cause of picture limits)

I also know a lot of us are Enbylors or non-bilors or whatever our cutesy short name is, and I do think this coupled with a love of the Lover and Folklore era photoshoots where Taylor was styled in a more androgynous or gender experimental way does support that.

And also just realistically the fact that we now have a number of photoshoots from a number of eras that feature Taylor styled in this way; it definitely supports the case that the Wonderland shoot was NOT a single fluke of a shoot where she was styled wholly by someone else because that’s the way they wanted to see her. There is a continued queering of Taylor’s wardrobe and image that likely was at least approved if not suggested by Taylor’s team, and by Taylor herself.

So if we have all of these shoots in the latter half of 2014, and there was so much hinting that Taylor was lgbtq at this time…

What happened?

Kissgate.

I believe Taylor and Karlie had a very specific, measured plan in place to allow people to get more comfy with the idea they might be together, and Kissgate was too much, too fast, and caused too much backlash. And that caused one or both of them to want to hide again.

Where could we have been now if Kissgate had been lauded and not made into a controversial thing?

#gaylor #friends of dorothea #gaylor swift #swiftcraft theorist #kaylor #masc era #masc era theory

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son-justdont · 2 days ago

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okay so here's the update regarding my mom's opinions on catws

she fuckin gets it, dude

i talked about how despite everything hydra does to make him look intimidating, you can see that he's very neutral, sometimes even scared. i showed her this gif:

and she said "it's like he's lost"

we talked about how he's extremely calculating and doesn't react emotionally even in high stress or when he's being bested, like when Natasha fucked up his arm, or even during the face reveal. and she said "because they didn't understand the science of it... the serum enhances everything about the person, and he wasn't bad. that's why they had to work so hard and wipe him so much, because he wouldn't ever actually want to do those things." i couldn't help but smile while she was saying this lmao

she also said: "to me, Steve always seemed... independent. it's almost like Bucky relied on him more than the other way around" which is the most stucky thing she could've ever said. she's so fucking right

she was like "wait, so he pulled him out of the water... and then he just walked away?? so now he's just wandering around... and the longer he stays unfrozen, the more he's going to remember everything"

we can't quite yet watch civil war but we are very excited for it lol

oh, and she loved nick fury and she didn't even know who the fuck he was. i forgot to explain beforehand but she understood pretty quick. and then she was very upset when he "died" as well LOL she said "THEY NEED TO STOP DOING THAT." she hated rumlow immediately as well and i was like yeah that's the correct opinion

now i wanna respond to some of the comments under the cut cuz ive been having such a good time lmao

@bucky-boychik-barnes @impetusofadream HERE U GO (one of them is from a different post where i talked about the same thing lmao)

@ilovemosss i read this post out to my mom including the replies and when i read this one she went "YOU ARE!!!!!!!!!"

@sentowritesstuff @stuckydrewx @partofthefandom @musette22 @rillils @skullfragments

she really thought all these responses were so funny and sweet! i however will not be introducing her to ao3 lmfao. she's no prude but she's pretty shy. i'll have to just relay ideas i find myself, i think. if anyone has any non-M rated recs you think she might like based on what she's said, feel free to send them my way haha

honestly she'd probably enjoy herself but i am probably only be showing her Cap and Bucky related stuff LSKDJF we didn't even watch avengers and i sure as hell am not showing her AoU. i'm basically explaining the relevant information as to what went on in between movies. i was like "natasha is an ex russian spy that was groomed to be as a child. that's basically all you need to know" like i didn't even explain nick fury and she was SO UPSET WHEN HE DIED LMAO

and, i gotta spill the beans, but i haven't seen a marvel movie since the first black panther. yeah that includes IF and EG. i know what happens but my interest in marvel PLUMMETED back then and i never caught up. honestly i'm only back into this stuff because i rewatched jessica jones and then wanted to go through the whole MCU from the beginning, saw CA:TFA, went "oh yeah this was all that i liked," and went all in for them.

i have watched TFatWS and i loved it (it seems like the fandom doesn't though LOL) for what it was, so i'll probably show her that. she is gonna be so so so so so upset regarding steve's choice, just like the rest of us. and i'm not looking forward to it lol. but i'll update when that happens too

i'll have to make a post civil war mom thoughts once that happens haha

#captain america #the winter soldier #catws #steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel #mine #mom update #mom watches marvel #i'll only tag to update people who respond in the future so i'm not spamming haha #oh regarding he doesn't react to high stress: the WS doesn't. but bucky does. so he's extremely emotional in the final fight

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partypooper1324 · 3 days ago

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Why Byler needs to be canon (and will be)

I know that this has been said before, but Byler being canon would change so much when it comes to queer love being depicted in movies and TV-shows. If one of Netflix's biggest shows can have an extremely well-written and overall beautiful queer love story between two of the main characters AND in a show that is not being only advertised for a gay audience like, for example, Heart stopper, that means that so many doors would open for queer representation in media. So many new shows would be open to representing queer people correctly (instead of using queer people in shows for brownie points) and normalizing queer characters.

If Byler isn't canon, then that would be tragic for not only Will's character, but also the queer community. My first ever post on my blog was me saying that if Byler isn't canon, then stranger things would be the one of the worst cases of queer baiting. I still stand by this point because if there can be a slide show with over 300 slides proving a queer relationship and it ends up not being canon, then there is no way the directors didn't know what they were doing especially in a show with such a high budget. Queer baiting is devastating for the queer community, but I cannot speak for the queer community as a strait woman so if you would like to speak on any queer baiting issues i'd love to hear your thoughts.

Also, if Byler isn't canon, then Will would have been kidnapped by a monster, bullied, been possessed, fought multiple other monsters, fought with the US military, and then on top of all that, he would confess to his crush who is a man in the 80's and been rejected. Give my man a break and let something good happen to him. This has to be my biggest Byler proof because the Duffer brothers already have queer characters in their shows so I don't see them queer baiting their audience. By the way, they don't even need to queer bait because they already have such a big audience.

Now let's talk about Mike. Again, I've seen people discuss this fact before, but if Byler is not canon, then the Duffer brothers are horrible writers. What explanation could there be for Mike becoming such an asshole to Will for no reason in season 3 and 4 if there could be no internalized homophobia? This character shift would make absolutely no sense because Mike and Will have been best friends for years, so Mike being so awkward when seeing him in the airport would make no sense. He had no problem hugging Will before he moved to California.

In season 3, Will asks to play DnD multiple times and Mike tells him that he's growing up and talking to girls which means he isn't interested in playing "childish games" anymore. He tries to be normal as much as possible this season and to grow up. However, what does little ol' Mike do after Will leaves? He joins a DnD club and he expresses to Lucas that he doesn't have any desire to be popular. This switch would again, make absolutely no sense.

Another big detail is that when Mike goes to California, he goes back to trying to be as normal as possible, as said by Finn Wolfhard. So, when Will is around, he feels the need to be normal and avoid his feelings for Will which he sees as childish (INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA!!!!). There is a video on YouTube by loser sits by herself (go watch it if you haven't already its amazing) where she goes into depth about Mike associating his feelings for Will with being childish, so that would explain why he wants to grow up in season three, but then not having this desire after Will leaves because he doesn't need to because Will is no longer around. If Byler doesn't happen, then what would be the explanation for this switch??

Let me know if you think I missed anything and thanks for coming to my yap session.

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 days ago

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robin's never living this down

robin's pov to this (which you probably 100% definitely need to read first)

rated e, 18+, minors dni | 1084 words | cw: none to me but SOME people may think Robin masturbating in Steve’s bed is weird given the circumstances | tags: mutual pining, codependent platonic Stobin, Steve and Eddie and Robin friendship, dirty talk, masturbation, feminization, baby girl Steve Harrington, robin's pov

😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉😉

The moment Steve goes to the bathroom, her eyes open again.

Eddie is there with him and they’re finally gonna do something about their stupid gay feelings for each other. Good. She’s so sick of hearing Steve wax poetic about how Eddie’s curls are the perfect length to cover their faces if they get intimate. There’s been at least 12 conversations.

She hears a whine and pretends she doesn’t. She’s happy for them, really. But she doesn’t need to hear-

“…eat you out, baby.”

Robin’s eyes go comically wide at Eddie’s words.

Why was that kinda…

She hears his voice, but doesn’t hear anything specific. Probably a good thing. She doesn’t need to hear anything more than that.

Whatever Eddie and Steve do is not her business. Steve will give her a play by play and she’ll nod and not be grossed out even though it does sound like things might be pretty gross in there already.

She’ll support them and-

“I know baby girl.”

Oh.

Well.

She didn’t know Steve is into that.

She didn’t know Eddie could sound like that either.

If she’s honest with herself, she’s always found Eddie to be beautiful. Not in an actual sexual attraction way, but in a best friend who has eyes way. It’s different than how she sees Steve, too. With him, she knows he’s hot because everyone says he is. He’s the picture perfect guy for women everywhere. And Eddie.

She hears a whimper and isn’t sure if it’s Steve or Eddie.

Her hand is in her pants before she even realizes it. She’s wet. She doesn’t even know when that happened.

Oh god, she’s gonna do this. Or at least try.

She can hear every noise coming from the bathroom now, every dirty word leaving Eddie’s mouth. Steve’s voice is pitched so high, he doesn’t even sound like Steve anymore.

She closes her eyes, dips one finger into the wetness leaking from her entrance. She’s embarrassingly ready to go and for what? Why?

She doesn’t let herself think too much more about it when she hears a groan and dips another finger inside. She curls her fingers, but she knows whatever that’s happening in there is almost over. She has to hurry.

She isn’t gonna get there just from her fingers inside. She’s needy sometimes.

Okay, a lot of the time.

But it makes for very interesting experiments when she’s alone in her bed.

She pulls her fingers out, spreads the wetness up to her clit, barely bites back a moan at the tingling pleasure already overwhelming her. She spreads her legs further apart, circling, teasing. She doesn’t have time for this, but god, it’s so good.

Eddie calls Steve sweet girl and Robin teeters on the edge, only feeling a little guilty that she’s using the way Steve comes apart at the seams to get closer to her own orgasm. She doesn’t think about what might come later when she has to look either of them in the eye. She just feels good.

She’s been spending a lot of nights at Steve’s. A lot of nights curling up in his bed with him, sometimes with Eddie there, sometimes not. It doesn’t exactly give her many chances for this, and the thought that she may get walked in on at any second only pushes her to work faster.

She hears a long moan and then whispering and she knows her time’s almost up. She focuses on what she likes: circling her clit faster as she hears Eddie telling Steve he did good. His voice is so soft, so different from how loud and rambl-y he usually is.

”So sweet for me.”

“Look at you letting me take care of you.”

“Next time I’ll get my mouth on you for real.”

Robin’s legs shake as she comes, not able to bite back a moan. It’s possibly the best orgasm she’s ever had, which is hopefully not gonna be true for too much longer. Living with the knowledge that hearing her platonic soulmate and best friend get each other off got her off is gonna take years off of her life.

The bathroom door opens slowly, as if she could have possibly slept through that.

She freezes.

Eddie definitely notices her, but doesn’t acknowledge anything out loud. He grabs pants from the floor– probably Steve’s, but could be his– and walks back into the bathroom.

She tries to wipe her hand off on her shorts, grimaces when she realizes how wet she got. Over Eddie’s voice and Steve’s noises.

The guilt sinks in, but not enough to distract her from the bathroom door opening again.

This time, they’re both coming into the room. She squeezes her eyes shut in hopes that somehow, they’ll believe she actually slept through it all.

Her body feels like a livewire. She’s still shaking.

“Oh my fucking god,” Steve says, and Robin knows he knows.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie’s asking, playing along as if he didn’t see that Robin was wide awake less than two minutes ago.

“Robin, what the fuck. What the hell.”

The jig is up. Steve knows. Eddie saw.

“Shut up,” she groans as she opens her eyes. Her vision is a bit blurry as she tries to focus on Steve, who is right there.

She tries to explain herself, and he teases her, which is fine. It’s fine. She would tease him if he got off to her and whatever girl she ends up actually being brave enough to be with.

He doesn’t question her being a lesbian though. Eddie might later, but she knows Steve won’t. He’s good, understanding of the most complicated things with very little explanation. Maybe they’ll talk about it in the morning, but for now, he kisses the top of her head and she pretends she’s grossed out by them. She feels herself blushing despite not actually being ashamed of what she did.

She leaves, gives them space. Hearing them through a door was one thing, but she will not be in the same bed while they do whatever it is they plan on doing. She’s pretty sure it involved mouths on assholes, and she does not need to be within 20 feet of that happening.

She doesn’t intentionally leave their door open.

But she’s glad she did when she hears Steve’s whimpering only ten minutes later, begging Eddie to fuck his pussy.

Jesus, she’s gonna have to talk to Steve about some new boundaries.

But maybe she’ll have some fun first.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #robin buckley pov

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jazziejax · 2 days ago

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𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐮𝐭𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Lamont Diggs x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Who knew that coming back to city where her parents were raised would lead to something cute happening between her and this random man

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - none…I think…

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 -I don’t even know if this is anyone’s cup of tea but I wrote it. This has been my man since Earl and the dying girl, so don’t even. I’ve searched high and low for anything for him in any way, shape or form and I’ve only seen one. So this was lowkey just for me, but I hope y’all enjoy. As you can see I’ve been in a a little writing rampage a bit but that doesn’t mean get your hopes up.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 3,629+

The morning sun poured into the Porsche panoramic window as the car curried through the Miami streets. The woman driving kept glancing in the rearview mirror, looking at the small boy in the back seat as he nodded his along with the song on the radio. He sat in his car seat, swinging his little legs, his curls pulled into the intricate stitch cornrows she had given him the night before, still fresh on his scalp. She smiled softly as she looked back at him, in his own world as he passionately mouthed the words to ‘As’ by Stevie Wonder. They had been in Miami for almost a month now, and she wanted to check in on how he was feeling about his new school.

“How’s school going, lil dude?” She asked, breaking him from his song trance while she adjusted her shades, pulling them to rest on her head as she slowed down at a red light.

Raheem perked up, kicking his feet a little. “It’s good! I got new friends!” He grinned, looking over at her in the driver's seat rather than trying to look into the mirror. Cree smiled, glancing at him through the mirror. “Oh yeah? Who?” What are they like?”

“Um… Mateo, he’s funny. And Louie, he’s my best friend ever because we like Power Rangers. And—oh!—Melissa! She always shares her fruit snacks with me!”

Cree raised an eyebrow, amused. “Your best friend, huh? Well, what ranger is he?” She asked curiously but fully amused by his storytelling and enthusiasm. She was so relieved that the move from Brooklyn didn’t have that much of an effect on him. They had their struggles at first, new school, and her trying to explain why they up and moved so abruptly, but things seemed to be going better.

“If I’m the blue ranger, he’s obviously the red one, Ma,” Raheem stated, as if it was as clear as day. And to him it was, this was basic ranger knowledge. Cree simply scoffed a bit, jerking her head back at his little attitude even though she wasn’t facing him. “Oh, well excuse me then, Mr.Blue Ranger. Sorry if I want to be sure.” She said. “You know, I liked the Power Ranger before you were even born.” She said, causing the boy to let out a small groan at the words she always seemed to have ready to repeat.

“I know, Ma.” He said, causing Cree to laugh a little since he sounded genuinely disappointed that he wasn’t the first Power Ranger fan in existence. “What else has been up at school?” She continued. He continued to tell her about what he learned, his friends, and he always loved telling her about what they had for lunch and recess his favorite parts of the day. Today, he told her about how they played kickball and he won a pack of gushers from a student. Cree chuckled. “Well, sounds like you’re running the playground already.” She cheesed, even though it sounded a little like gambling since the students sort of better on him to win.

Raheem grinned, dimples popping, before turning his attention back to the colorful backpack on his lap and the new song on the radio, ‘Apparently’ by J. Cole. Soon, they pulled up to the school, and Cree put the car in park near the drop-off area. She hopped out of the car and walked over to his side as she pulled her shades down, opening the back door and looking down at him.

“Alright, little man, you ready?” She asked with a small smile and an expectant brow. Raheem nodded as she helped him unbuckle. Once free, he hopped out with his backpack on. They did their small handshake, three fist pumps before backing away with an explosion, they then pointed at each other, a knowing look on their face. “And that’s what happened to the dinosaurs.” They stated at the same time, causing Cree to laugh at the stupid joke he had come up with while Raheem was genuinely amused.

He then began to walk into the building, being dined by his teacher waiting out front. She waved at her, causing Cree to do the same with a polite smile. Raheem looked back at her expectantly.

“Be good.” She called out.

Raheem nodded his head at that, giving her a small wave as rich brown skin glowed in the Miami sun, his dimples deepening as he smiled wide at her before disappearing into the school building.

From down the lot, Mia stood by her car, watching the adorable exchange while she waited for Melissa to head inside. Her eyes flicked back to the woman standing by the sleek black Porsche, dressed in oversized shades, a cute little white dress that showed liked legs, paired with a light blue flannel and cute blue sandals that showed her manicured toes—nothing too out of the ordinary for Miami, but something about her felt familiar.

It wasn’t until the woman turned toward her car that Mia’s eyes widened in realization.

No way.

Cree.

The Cree.

Mia’s breath caught for a second as Cree rounded her car, and through the dark shades, Mia swore the woman had glanced her way, offering a small, polite smile before sliding into the driver’s seat like it was just another regular morning and driving off.

Mia stood frozen for a second before quickly jumping into her car. She grabbed her phone and dialed up the girls, her voice hushed but urgent.

“Y’all… tell me why I just saw Cree at my kid’s school.”

They immediately doubted her.

“Nuh, uh!”

“Girl, stop playing.”

“I swear it was her! I saw her drop a little boy off—she had on the shades, this cute ass outfit, and everything.” Mia screamed.

“Cree don’t got no kids, girl.” One of the girls said to her.

“I’m telling you, I know it was her. She looked at me. And she was driving a fucking Porsche, don’t non of these bad ass kids mama’s drive no damn Porsche!” Mia tried to get them to understand, but they still didn’t believe her.

“Maybe it was some girl that looked like her. I mean, she ain’t all that to not have a few bitches around here that she favor.” One of the girls stated.

“Plus, what would she be doing out here anyway? Especially with a kid.”

Still met with disbelief, Mia huffed and hung up before calling Shawna and telling her who she saw at Melissa’s school, and this time, she got more of a reaction closer to hers.

Shawna didn’t even hesitate. “Wait… like Cree Cree?” The woman asked, on her cell phone at the front desk of her job at the Plymouth Hotel. “The Cree? The one that made Pretty Little Birds, Cree? Or the Cree Summer, who is equally as iconic in my opinion.”

“No, bitch, not that Cree. The one that made Pretty Little Birds, Cry Baby, all that.” Mia stated causing Shawna to gasp loudly, before quickly looking up and around her surroundings. She paused for a moment before looking back down at the phone, gaping. “Are you for real? Was it really her?” She questioned excitedly.

“Yes!” Mia practically whispered in excitement. “The one who got her money stolen—Cree.”

Shawna gasped. “Nooo. What the hell is she doing in Miami? And at Melissa’s school?”

“I don’t know, but I’m about to find out.”

Without missing a beat, Mia sooner ended the call and opened her Instagram, hit record on her Story, and stared into the camera.

“Y’all… I think I just saw Cree at my kid’s school.”

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Cree hadn’t planned on going to the studio that day.

She was supposed to just run errands—hit the grocery store, pick up some things for Raheem, and maybe squeeze in a quick workout before heading back to his school to pick him up. But it seems as if fate has other plans, because she was texting her good friend, Joey, about that studio he knew about in Miami and getting not only the address, but her own secession for a few hours, and she couldn’t pass up that offer.

She stepped into the dimly lit studio, adjusting her shades as she took in the familiar scent of burnt sage and the hints of weed lingering in the air. The space wasn’t anything fancy— or what she was used to, just a simple setup with soundproofed walls, a sleek mixing board, and a booth on the order side of the glass panel. But it was enough. She didn’t need luxury right now; she needed a place where she could work.

She set her bag down and pulled out her laptop, connecting it to the system while scrolling through some beats she had been messing around with. It had been months since she had been in a studio like this, just her and the music, no distractions, no deadlines, no industry bullshit clouding her thoughts. She cracked her knuckles, took a sip of her iced coffee, and got to work.

The first hour was all about finding the right vibe. She tapped through instrumentals, tweaking bass lines, layering synths, and shifting drum patterns until something finally clicked. The beat she landed on was slow but heavy, dripping with Miami influence—smooth keys, a deep, rolling bassline, and a rhythm that made you want to ride down Ocean Drive with the top down.

She hummed along, letting the melody sink in before pulling out her notebook. Lyrics had been piling up in her head for weeks now, bars scribbled in the margins of receipts, on the backs of grocery lists, and even typed into her Notes app at random times of the day. She flipped through the pages, piecing together the words that fit the mood.

“I'll touch that fire for you

I do that three, four times again, I testify for you…”

She smirked, nodding along as she caught the flow. The pen hit the paper again, and she kept writing.

The next two hours flew by in a blur of recording takes, layering harmonies, and punching in lines until they hit just right. Cree wasn’t rushing anything—she was just feeling it. It was the first time in a long time that making music felt fun again. It’s been months since the scandal of her scamming manager hit the internet and no one has heard from her. Not a post on social media, not a single interview, nothing. And she wanted to stay silent until her case was over because one thing she’d learned from being a celebrity, is to just shut the hell up. Nothing you say will ever protect your ass from people who already set out to hate you, and you never know how your words can be twisted. Plus, this was a court case about her hard-earned money, not some show for people to watch.

By the time her session was wrapping up, she had a solid demo. It wasn’t perfect, but it was her and it was something she was going to work on. And right now, that was all she needed.

She glanced at the clock—Raheem would be out of school soon. With a satisfied sigh, she packed up her things, saved her files onto her hard drive, and made her way toward the exit.

Cree adjusted her shades as she stepped out of the studio, her mind still wrapped up in the music she had just been working on. It had been months since she last dropped anything, but today felt right. Being back in Miami, back in a space where she could create freely, had sparked something in her again. She was zoning out, already thinking about her next session, when—

BAM.

She walked straight into someone.

Her denim tote bag slipped off her arm, and before she could catch it, everything in her hands went flying—Raheem’s iPad, her phone, her keys, and her hard drive, all clattering to the floor.

“Shit.” She muttered, quickly bending down.

“My bad.” A voice said at the same time, reaching to help.

Cree’s heart skipped for a second when she glanced up. The man crouching in front of her was tall, built just right, with smooth brown skin and a face that looked both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. He took up the black phone first, taking it into his hands and quickly checking for scratches before handing it over. “This yours?”

She took it, brushing her fingers over the case. “Yeah, thanks.” She said as she picked up the fallen items from her purse, stuffing old receipts, loose candy, and even a small Power Rangers action figure, into the large bag.

The stranger picked up Raheem’s iPad next, glancing at the colorful case before handing it over. “Got a kid?” He questioned casually with a tilt of his head, though a small smile was on his face.

Cree nodded, shoving the tablet into her bag. “Uh, yeah. Yeah.” She sighed, trying not to overthink the question and get into explaining her complicated life situation.

The man hummed like he had a response on the tip of his tongue but held back. He simply handed her the rest of her things before standing up. “I ain’t mean to run into you like that. You good?”

Cree dusted herself off, slipping her phone into her pocket. “Yeah, I’m straight. It’s cool.”

He gave a small nod, his gaze lingering on her for a beat longer than necessary, like he was trying to place her. She knew that look.

She also knew better than to stick around for it. As attractive as he was, she had no pleasure in dealing with that right now.

“Alright then.” She said, offering a polite nod before stepping past him, and making her way toward the exit. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away.

The man stood there for a moment, brows slightly furrowed. Her face, her voice—something about her nagged at him. Before he could think on it too long, something colorful on the ground caught his eye.

“Oh, shit.”

He bent down, picking up a red hard drive that had a worn Denzel Washington sticker, his character from American Gangster slapped on the front. His eyes flicked up just in time to see the door down the hall close behind her as she exited.

“Yo, wait!” He called out, breaking into a jog toward the exit. “Aye!”He tried again, but by the time he pushed through the door and stepped into the Miami sun, the Porsche was already at the lot’s edge, easing onto the main road. “Hey!” He yelled again, picking up his pace. He made it halfway across the lot before the car merged into traffic. He stood there, hands on his hips, watching as it disappeared down the street.

“Shit.” He hissed softly.

He exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders and slightly shaking his head before looking down at the hard drive in his hands. He flipped it over, hoping for some kind of contact info on it. Nothing—just one word, engraved in smooth cursive in the back.

‘Cree.’

His brows furrowed as he repeated the name in his head. It sounded familiar. Before he could think on it too long, he glanced at his watch. His eyes widened.

“Shit!”

He was almost late to pick up Melissa from school.

Cree, however, had no idea her hard drive was missing. All she could think about was her music and getting to school to pick up Raheem. Well, that and the man she bumped into earlier.

He was fine as hell. Tall, and built just right with his slim but muscular body. He had dreads, his black hair completing his smooth brown skin—it had been a while since she’d looked at a man like that and actually lingered on the thought. Being famous from a decently young age messed with how she saw relationships. She didn’t really get to have many normal ones, at least not the kind that didn’t make it to the public eye or was with someone in the industry. But even if she were looking for something—which she wasn’t, not with how life was going right now—she wouldn’t be dumb about it.

Still, that wasn’t gonna stop her from smiling a little at the thought of seeing him again. He was fine as fuck.

The school’s parking lot was already packed when she pulled up. She had to wait a few minutes before the teachers started escorting the kids out. Getting out of the car, she leaned against the side of her door, eyes scanning the sea of kids until she spotted that familiar brown skin and those neat cornrows.

As soon as Raheem saw her, his face lit up.

“Ma!” He said as he began to run over to her.

Cree opened her arms, laughing as he ran straight into her, wrapping his little arms around her waist. “Hey, baby! You had a good day?” She asked.

“Mhm! We had pizza for lunch, and Ms. Carter let me be the line leader today!”

“Ooooh, big boss moves, huh?” She gave him a high-five before leading him to the car. “Alright, let’s get you buckled in. We might go see GG and ‘nem today.”

She was strapping him into his car seat when she felt someone walking up behind her. Years of being in the public eye, where paparazzi and strangers had no boundaries, had her instincts sharp as hell. Without thinking, she flinched back and balled her fist, ready to swing at whoever was creeping up on her.

“Woah, it’s not even like that!”

The voice made her pause just as she was about to let her fist fly. She paused as she studied the person before her, eyes narrowing—and sure enough, it was the man from earlier. Except this time, he wasn’t alone. He stood with a little girl beside him, hand in hand. She was cute, all big brown eyes and two neat ponytails, smiling up at her politely.

Cree exhaled sharply, shaking her head as she lowered her fist. “Damn, you can’t be sneaking up on people like that.”

He chuckled, holding his hands up in defense. “My bad, my fault. I ain’t mean to startle you like that.” He stated, trying not to laugh at her startled expression since he almost got sucker punched in the face, in front of his daughter.

Said the little girl blinking up at her. “Hi.” She said with a cute smile. Her locs were in adorable pigtails and her brown skin made her chubby cheeks look so kissable under the Miami sun. Cree’s face softened as she returned the smile. “Hi.” She said with a little wave.

The man cleared his throat, breaking himself out of his own stare of starting at the woman before him before extending his arm, something red in his hand. “You dropped this back at the studio.”

She looked down and her eyes widened when she saw her hard drive, immediately reaching for it. “Oh, shit—” She caught herself, glancing at Raheem, who was already watching closely. “I mean, shoot. Damn, I didn’t even realize it was gone.”

“Yeah, I tried to catch you, but you was already gone.”

Cree smirked, tucking the hard drive into her bag. “I be moving quick.” She said, trying to remove the awkward tension that sort of lingered from her almost hitting him, their literal run-in and just all-around speaking since they didn’t know each other.

“I see that.” He smirked as he tilted his head slightly, that same lingering look from earlier settling in his eyes. “You Cree, huh?”

She arched a brow, catching the way her name rolled off his tongue. She liked the way he said it. “I mean, that’s what it says on the back, don’t it?”

His lips twitched in amusement, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he nodded toward the girl beside him. “This my daughter, Melissa.”

Cree looked down and gave her a warm smile. “Nice to meet you, Melissa. This is my nephew, Raheem.”

Raheem, who had been quiet up until now, squinted up at the man before looking down at Melissa. “This is Melissa from my school.” He said, looking back at his aunt, who made a face of surprise since she remembered he mentioned the girl earlier.

Melissa nodded. “Yeah, we’re in Ms. Carter’s class.” She grinned, looking up at her dad. The man’s brows lightly raised as she nodded, indulging in the information the kids delivered. Raheem’s face lit up. “Me too!” He said as if the little girl hadn’t already said that. Cree chuckled as the two kids immediately fell into small conversation, excitedly chatting about their classmates to the adults.

Cree folded her arms, eyes flicking back to the man. “So, do I get a name, or you just gonna keep staring at me like you tryna figure something out?” She asked eyes squinted to block the sun that shined over his head like a halo as she arched a brow at him.

He let out a low chuckle, running a hand over his loc’d hair before finally extending his other one toward her. “It’s Lamont.”

Cree took his hand, shaking it firmly. “Well, Lamont, I really appreciate you returning my hard drive. You don’t even know how much this truly means to me.”

“No problem. It looked important.”

“It is.” She, hosing the device tight in her grip as she moved to finish buckling Raheem into his car seat, before turning back and giving him a knowing smirk. “Lucky you found it.” She said. “I probably would’ve never seen this thing again if it wasn’t for you.”

Lamont smirked back. “Yeah… lucky me.”

@saturnville @henneseyhoe @notapradagurl7 @sy-monee @zillasvilla @slvt4her @saltburnsworld @melaninhawtie @j0ysyndr0m3 @moooonluvr @

#rj cyler #lamont diggs #Lamont × Black!reader #Rap Sh!t fanfic #Rap Sh!t fanfiction #RJ Cyler x Reader #RJ Cyler x Black!Reader #RJ Cyler fanfic #x black reader #x black fem reader #x black oc #x black plus size reader #x black y/n #x black fem oc #rap s!it Lamont #Lamont Diggs Rap Sh!t

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aspenmissing · 2 days ago

Note

Hiii! Hopefully you can understand my request, because I'm awful at explaining things. So, sorry if it'll be a little bit too long xD

As a young father Silco wanted to do his best, to keep his only child safe. So, when Vander and he decided to fight against Piltover (which would led to the big fight on the bridge from season 1) Silco has forbidden his daughter to follow them. Sadly Reader decided to follow them anyway. She accidently got struck by an explosion and became unconscious. Before the explosion happened, Silco saw his daughter for a second and lost the sight of her. Silco couldn't find his daughter afterwards and he had to be pulled away by Vander from the bridge (against his own protests)

Meanwhile Reader was found alive by some enforcers and a member of house (either Kiramman or Talis). Nobody could told, where she came from, so they took her with them. When Reader became concious again, all she could remember was her name. The member of house (Kiramman or Talis) decided to adopt her (and idk why, but if Reader would get adopted by house Talis, I can imagine that Jayce's dad would have found her on the bridge and made this decision with his wife Ximena).

Years passed and Reader became a full member of Piltover's society, but she always felt different. She loved her adoptive family but she wanted to know, where she came from. That's where she decided to visit the Undercity for informations - and met her biological father so many years later.

It's up to you, how exactly Silco and Reader will meet each other ^-^ Will it be angsty or comforting? We will see ~

ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟɪᴇ

ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ x ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ꜰᴇᴀᴛ. ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ/xɪᴍᴇɴᴀ) || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 5348 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴘʀᴇꜱᴜᴍᴇᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴇxᴘʟᴏꜱɪᴏɴꜱ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ, ɪɴᴊᴜʀʏ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ɪ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴏᴏᴅ ɪᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛʟʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ'ꜱ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʟᴏɴɢ! ɪꜰ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ʟᴏɴɢ ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ (ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ᴍɪx ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀꜱ)

Silco had never expected to be a father.

The Undercity was no place for children, and he had always believed that raising one would only make a man weak. Children were liabilities, burdens in a world that required sharp minds and sharper instincts to survive. But when the mother of his child placed a small, swaddled infant in his arms with cold indifference, he had known that weakness had nothing to do with it.

"She’s yours," the woman said simply, her voice devoid of emotion. "I don’t want her."

Silco had looked down at the tiny girl in his arms, her delicate fingers curling instinctively around the fabric of his sleeve. Her eyes, still unfocused, fluttered open briefly, revealing a shade of colour so familiar it made his breath catch.

She had his eyes.

But that wasn’t all. Just below her left collarbone, a small, distinct birthmark shaped almost like a crescent moon stood out against her soft skin. A unique mark, one that made her undeniably his.

"She needs a mother," he had told the woman, though he already knew what she would say.

"She needs someone who cares. That’s not me." There was no anger in her words, no regret, just indifference. She turned on her heel and walked away, disappearing into the filthy alleys of Zaun without a second glance.

Silco was left standing alone, cradling his daughter against his chest as she let out a soft, fragile sound—half a yawn, half a cry. She was so small, so defenceless. The weight of responsibility settled on his shoulders like an iron shackle. He had never wanted to be a father. But in that moment, as he held his daughter close, he made a promise:

He would protect her. No matter the cost.

Raising a child in the Undercity was no easy feat. Silco had always been a man of ambition, of strategy. He had navigated the dangerous world of Zaun with precision, never allowing himself to be distracted. But this—fatherhood—was unlike anything he had ever encountered. And yet, he was not alone.

Vander had been the first to step in. The larger man had always possessed a protective nature, one that extended to anyone he considered family. When he saw Silco struggling to soothe the wailing infant on one particularly restless night, Vander had taken her into his massive arms with surprising gentleness.

"She’s got a strong pair of lungs, that one," Vander had chuckled, rocking her slightly. "She’s gonna be a fighter."

Felicia adored the child from the moment she laid eyes on her. Where Silco hesitated, uncertain of how to comfort his own daughter, Felicia stepped in with the patience and warmth he lacked.

"She’s beautiful, Silco," Felicia had said softly, brushing the girl’s tiny curls away from her forehead. "She looks just like you. And that mark… it makes her special."

The girl had been given many names in jest—Little Terror, Firecracker, Scrap—but none stuck quite as much as the name Silco chose for her: Y/N.

As Y/N grew, she became the light in their dark world. Vander would swing her up onto his shoulders, letting her see the world from heights she could never reach on her own. Felicia would sneak her sweet treats, whispering that it was their little secret.

Silco was not a perfect father, but he was a devoted one. He ensured she was well-fed, warm, and above all, safe. And when the nights were cold, when the nightmares of Zaun’s cruelty threatened to creep in, he held her close, whispering promises he swore he would never break.

The Undercity was no place for children. But for Y/N, Silco would make it one.

Years passed, and Y/N grew into a fiery, determined girl.

Silco had raised her in the only way he knew how: with sharp lessons, but unwavering devotion. She had been taught the ways of the Undercity, how to fight, how to survive, but also when to pick her battles. She was clever, stubborn—too stubborn for her own good, he often told her—but she was his daughter. And he would do anything to keep her safe.

That was why, when war loomed over the Undercity, when the time came to rise against Piltover, Silco had made a firm decision—his daughter would not be part of it.

"You will not step foot on that bridge, Y/N. Do you understand me?" His voice was sharp, unwavering, the kind of command that brooked no argument.

She crossed her arms, glaring at him. "I can fight, dad. You know I can."

"This isn't a fight for you."

"Then what is it for? I’ve trained for this—"

"And I trained you to survive, not to die!" His voice rose, something rare for him, but the thought of losing her, of watching her fall in battle—it was unthinkable.

Y/N clenched her fists, her jaw set. "I just want to help."

Silco exhaled heavily, stepping forward and gripping her shoulders. "I know. But you are more important than this war. You are more important than all of this." His fingers tightened slightly, as if trying to anchor her to him. His mismatched eyes searched hers, looking for any sign that she would listen, that she would obey. "Promise me. Promise me you will stay here."

She hesitated. Her lips parted, and for a moment, she looked as if she would agree. But the fire in her eyes—the fire he had given her—refused to die. She had watched him fight for Zaun, had seen the sacrifices he had made, and she could not stand idly by. Her father had always told her to be strong, to carve her own path, to never let fear dictate her choices.

She didn’t promise.

Silco saw it. The defiance in the way she held herself, the steel in her gaze. His grip on her shoulders tightened before he slowly let her go, his expression unreadable. He wanted to lock her away, to keep her safe from what was to come. But he knew—Y/N was too much like him. And that terrified him more than anything.

And that was his mistake.

The battle was chaos. Explosions painted the night sky with fire and smoke, the air thick with the acrid scent of burning metal, the screams of the dying, and the relentless clash of steel against steel. Piltover’s enforcers fought hard, but the Undercity’s forces were relentless, pushing forward with a desperate fury fueled by years of oppression.

Silco had been fighting, his mind sharp and focused—until, for the briefest of moments, he saw her.

His heart stopped.

She was there, amidst the battle, darting through the smoke and debris, her movements quick, determined. Her eyes blazed with the same fire he had always admired—and feared. She hadn’t listened. She had followed him.

"No—"

Before he could move, before he could reach her, an explosion erupted near her position. The shockwave sent bodies flying, fire and debris swallowing the space where she had stood just moments before.

His vision blurred with smoke and dust. His ears rang, muffling the chaos around him. He stumbled forward, shoving past fallen fighters, his voice raw, desperate.

"Y/N!"

Nothing. No response. Just the howling of fire and the distant, fractured sounds of battle.

His pulse pounded in his ears as he searched frantically, hands clawing through the rubble, pushing aside broken bodies, ignoring the searing pain of his own wounds. He had to find her. He had to.

"Silco!" A strong arm wrapped around him, yanking him back. Vander. "We have to go!"

"Let me go!" Silco thrashed against his grip, his voice cracking with desperation. "I have to find her!"

"She's gone!" Vander's voice wavered, thick with grief, but his grip remained firm.

"No! She's not—She’s—" Silco's breath came in ragged gasps, his struggles growing weaker. "I can still—"

"I'm sorry." Vander’s voice was barely a whisper now, raw with sorrow. "I'm so sorry."

He didn’t stop apologizing as he pulled Silco away, dragging him from the wreckage, from the burning bridge, from the only thing that had ever truly mattered. Silco screamed, cursed, fought with everything he had left—but in the end, Vander was stronger.

And Silco was left with nothing but the fire, the smoke, and the hollow, gaping wound that no battle wound could ever compare to.

The enforcers had found her barely breathing in the wreckage, buried beneath the splintered remains of the bridge and the bodies of those who hadn’t been as lucky. Smoke curled in the air, the remnants of fire painting the night sky in shades of orange and black. Among the enforcers was a man—Meredin Talis. His sharp eyes scanned the destruction until they landed on her small, fragile form. She was unconscious, her clothes scorched and torn, a thin trail of blood cutting down the side of her face.

"We've got a survivor!" one enforcer called out, kneeling beside her.

Meredin crouched next to the girl, his fingers carefully pressing against her throat. A pulse—weak but steady. Relief flickered across his face, though concern quickly followed. She couldn’t have been older than ten. Too young to be caught in something like this.

"Where did she come from?" another enforcer asked, glancing around at the sea of fallen bodies.

Meredin frowned. "I don’t know… but we can’t leave her here."

They carried her away from the battlefield, past the dying embers of a war she had no memory of starting. When she awoke, it was to the sterile scent of antiseptic and the dim glow of candlelight flickering against the polished walls of a Piltover hospital room.

Her entire body ached. The burns, though treated, still throbbed with every breath, and a dull, persistent pain radiated from her temple. She blinked, her vision blurry, before a soft, unfamiliar voice pulled her attention.

"You’re awake," a woman said, stepping closer. Her voice was warm, soothing. "Take it easy, sweetheart. You’re safe now."

The woman—Ximena Talis—had gentle eyes and a comforting presence. Y/N tried to speak, but her throat felt dry, her words caught somewhere between confusion and exhaustion.

"Can you tell me your name?" Ximena asked softly, her fingers brushing stray strands of hair from Y/N’s forehead.

The girl swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. "My name is Y/N."

And nothing else.

Her head throbbed when she tried to think past that simple truth, when she searched for something—anything—beyond those three syllables. Flashes of fire, the deafening roar of explosions, the shadowed silhouette of a man reaching for her—all of it slipped through her grasp like sand.

Ximena exchanged a look with Meredin, concern etched in both of their faces.

"It’s alright," Meredin assured her. "You’ve been through a lot. Your memories may come back with time. Until then… you’ll stay with us."

The decision had already been made. A lost girl with no past, found among the ruins of a war—she had nowhere else to go. And so, the Talis family took her in.

Life in Piltover was different. The air was cleaner, the streets wider, the people softer in their words but sharper in their judgments. Y/N learned quickly, adapted to the routines of this strange, glittering city that had taken her in as one of its own. Ximena treated her as if she had always been her daughter, never hesitating to hold her close on the nights when the nightmares crept in. Meredin was firm but kind, teaching her about the politics of Piltover, about the world she had supposedly always belonged to. And then there was Jayce.

He had been wary of her at first. An older boy, full of energy and curiosity, he had studied her with a mixture of suspicion and intrigue. Y/N, still reeling from the emptiness in her mind, had been quiet, withdrawn.

Their first conversation had been awkward at best.

"So… you really don’t remember anything?" Jayce asked, leaning against the doorframe of her new bedroom, arms crossed.

Y/N shook her head, her fingers gripping the blanket draped over her lap. The room was unfamiliar—too clean, too polished. The bed beneath her was soft, but it didn’t feel like home. Not that she knew what home was supposed to feel like.

Jayce clicked his tongue. "That’s gotta be weird. Kinda scary, too."

She shrugged, not sure how to put the gnawing emptiness into words.

He watched her for a second, then pushed off the doorframe with a grin. "Well, sitting in here all day won’t help. Come on—I’ll show you around."

Despite herself, she had followed him. And slowly, bit by bit, a new life unfolded. Jayce became the older brother she never knew she needed—teasing, protective, always challenging her to races through the courtyard or daring her to sneak extra sweets from the kitchen. He made her laugh, even when the shadows of her missing past loomed over her.

Years passed, and the empty spaces in her mind remained unfilled. Piltover became her home, the only world she knew. She studied, she trained, she became everything the Talis family had hoped she would be. She learned the ways of the city—the elegance of its language, the precision of its science, the unspoken rules of its high society. She attended grand events, dined with powerful people, and walked through shimmering halls that should have made her feel like she belonged.

And yet, something was always missing.

A part of her felt out of place, like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong picture. She saw it in the way people looked at her, in the fleeting glances that held quiet curiosity, in the whispered words she wasn’t meant to hear. They never said it outright, but she could feel it—she was not truly one of them. Not in the way Jayce was. Not in the way she was meant to be.

At first, she tried to ignore it. She buried herself in books, in lessons, in the world of progress and invention that Piltover thrived on. She convinced herself that if she worked hard enough, if she did everything right, the feeling would fade.

But it didn’t.

It only grew sharper with time, gnawing at her in quiet moments, in restless nights where dreams of fire and echoes of voices she didn’t recognize haunted her sleep.

Then there were the flashes—fragments of memories that weren’t quite whole. The smell of oil and smoke, the echo of laughter in a dimly lit space, the touch of rough, calloused hands. Sometimes, she would wake with the phantom sensation of warmth pressed against her forehead, as if someone had once held her close, whispering words she could no longer hear.

Who had she been before Piltover?

She had asked once, but Meredin and Ximena had always been careful with their answers. “You were found,” they had told her, gentle but firm. “You were hurt, and we took you in.”

It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the truth, either.

The feeling of being incomplete, of being untethered to anything real, had become unbearable. And so, one day, she made a choice.

She would go to the Undercity.

She would find out who she truly was.

The descent into the Undercity was nothing like the graceful streets of Piltover. The clean marble paths gave way to rusted metal walkways, and the scent of fresh air was quickly replaced by something heavier—oil, smoke, dampness, and something vaguely metallic that clung to her throat.

Y/N had prepared for this. She wasn’t foolish enough to waltz into Zaun looking like a Piltie. Her clothes were different—no crisp linen or neatly pressed jackets. Instead, she wore simple, worn fabric, loose enough to move in but sturdy enough to last. She had tied her hair back, concealed what she could beneath a hood, and dirtied her hands and face just enough to avoid suspicion.

Blending in wasn’t just about looks. It was about how she walked, how she held herself. She kept her head down, her steps steady but unhurried, moving with the ebb and flow of the crowd. The Undercity was alive in a way Piltover never was—louder, rawer, pulsing with something that felt like barely contained chaos.

But as she moved through the winding streets, something strange happened.

It felt familiar.

Her heart pounded as she turned down an alley, her fingers brushing against the rough surface of a wall. Her mind whispered that she had been here before. The way the buildings leaned into one another, the way the neon lights flickered against the grime-streaked windows—it wasn’t new.

Her feet carried her forward, guided by something deeper than memory.

A corner shop with rusted grates. A broken-down lamppost covered in old posters. A market stall with an old woman selling gears and scrap metal.

She knew these places.

She didn’t know how. She didn’t know why.

But she knew them.

Her breath hitched as she reached a familiar crossroad. Something inside her clenched, a deep pull in her chest, like a long-forgotten voice calling her home.

Y/N kept walking, the feeling of familiarity growing stronger with every step. The streets twisted and turned, some barely wide enough for two people to pass, others stretching into open spaces where the neon glow flickered dimly against rusted metal. She followed the pull in her chest, letting it guide her through Zaun like a thread unravelling, leading her somewhere she wasn’t sure she was ready for.

Then, she saw it—the docks.

The air was thick with salt and oil, the scent of damp wood and rust filling her lungs. The water below was dark, reflecting the neon lights in broken ripples. She stopped at the edge of a platform, staring out at the old wooden walkways stretching over the murky water, connected by rusted chains and precarious bridges.

She knew this place.

Her fingers twitched as a memory flickered at the edge of her mind—laughter, the sound of boots thudding against the docks, the distant hum of voices she couldn’t quite place.

She had been here before.

Her pulse quickened. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to grasp the images slipping through her mind like water through her fingers. She wasn’t alone in the memory. There were others—figures beside her, people she had once known, voices calling her name—

A sound snapped her out of it.

Voices.

She stepped back into the shadows, pressing herself against the damp wooden wall of a storage building. Peering around the corner, she saw them—a group of men moving crates off a boat, their hushed voices tense. The crates were unmarked, but she didn’t need to see inside them to know what was happening.

The man leading the deal stood with his arms crossed, his face partially hidden beneath the glow of a flickering streetlamp. The others worked fast, hoisting the heavy crates onto a metal cart. The conversation was clipped, business-like, but there was an edge to it—a sharpness in the way their hands hovered near their weapons.

Y/N had never seen anything like this before.

She had heard whispers of the Undercity’s dealings, of the illegal trades that happened in the shadows of Zaun, but seeing it first-hand was different. The tension in the air, the way they moved with careful precision, the quiet urgency in their voices—it was a world apart from Piltover’s controlled order.

A cold unease settled in her chest. She needed to leave. Now.

She took a slow step back, careful not to make a sound. Then another. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she turned, ready to slip away the way she came—

CRACK.

Her boot pressed against a loose plank, and the sharp snap echoed like a gunshot in the quiet night.

The voices halted.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

"Oi."

She didn’t wait.

Y/N bolted.

Shouts erupted behind her, heavy footsteps pounding against the docks. She sprinted through the narrow alleys, weaving between rusted barrels and stacks of old crates. Her breath came in sharp gasps, her heartbeat a wild drum in her chest. She had no idea where she was going—only that she had to run.

A sharp whistle cut through the night.

"Get her!"

She swerved down another path, her boots skidding against damp wood. The docks were a maze, twisting and turning in ways that made no sense, and panic tightened its grip on her.

Left—no, right—no, dead end!

She turned sharply, but a figure was already there.

Strong arms wrapped around her, yanking her backward. She thrashed, kicking and clawing, but another set of hands grabbed her wrist, twisting her arm behind her back.

"Let go!" she hissed, struggling.

"Well, well," a gruff voice sneered, tightening his grip as she was forced to the ground. "What do we have here?"

Rough hands grabbed at her collar, pulling at the fine material of her coat, the quality of her clothes impossible to miss. Even covered in dirt and sweat, she stood out like a beacon in the dim light.

One of them let out a low chuckle. "Looks like we got ourselves a little Piltie lost in the slums."

Y/N clenched her jaw, breathing hard, her mind racing for a way out.

She was trapped.

And she was in trouble.

They dragged her through the winding corridors of a building she didn’t recognize. The air was thick with smoke and damp, the scent of oil clinging to the walls. The floor beneath her boots was worn, the creak of wooden planks barely audible beneath the murmurs of men who paid her little mind. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she was shoved forward into a dimly lit office.

The room was large, its centrepiece a sleek desk with scattered papers and a burning cigar resting in a tray. The air smelled of ink, whiskey, and something darker. The walls were lined with shelves, their surfaces covered in old books, artifacts, and maps of Zaun. A single large window stretched across the back wall, revealing the Undercity’s industrial sprawl.

A man sat in the chair facing that window, his silhouette sharp against the flickering glow of neon signs outside. He did not move as she was forced into the seat opposite him. The men who had dragged her here stepped back, their presence looming at the edges of the room, waiting.

Silence stretched between them.

Y/N forced her breathing to steady, though her hands trembled slightly against her lap. The man in the chair exhaled slowly, smoke curling upward as he finally spoke.

"You're far from home, aren’t you?"

His voice was smooth, deliberate. Controlled. It sent a strange shiver down her spine. He had not turned to face her yet, but there was something about him—something that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

She swallowed hard, forcing her chin up. "I don’t know what you mean."

A low chuckle rumbled from him, dry amusement laced in the sound. "Don’t insult my intelligence, girl. You reek of Piltover."

Her jaw tightened, but she had no answer. She could feel his gaze on her, even though she couldn’t see his face.

Then, finally, he turned.

Her breath caught as the weight of recognition pressed down on her chest, though she couldn’t grasp why. It was there—just out of reach, slipping through her fingers like water.

And then, suddenly, she did remember. But it wasn’t him, not like this. Not hardened. Not scarred.

The memory was hazy, blurred at the edges like an old photograph, but she could see him. Younger. Sharper, but without the hardened weariness he carried now. His eyes—same as hers—had held something else back then. Ambition, fire, but not yet the cold, calculating stare that now pinned her in place. And there was no scar, no mismatched gaze, no weight of loss that seemed to hang over him now like a shadow.

She saw hands—his hands—lifting her into the air. Laughter. A voice softer than the one speaking to her now, but unmistakably his. "No matter what happens, I'll always protect you."

Her breath hitched, her fingers gripping the arms of the chair. The memory was brief, fleeting, but it left her reeling.

The man watched her reaction carefully, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Interesting." His voice had dropped lower, studying her now in a way that made her feel stripped bare. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Y/N didn't answer at first. Her lips parted, her breath uneven, as the weight of realization settled in her chest. And then, before she could stop herself, the word slipped past her lips in a whisper.

"Dad."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Silco's expression hardened, but something flickered behind his mismatched eyes—something fragile, something dangerous. The air in the room grew thick, suffocating in its weight. The men standing at the edges of the room shifted uneasily, sensing the shift in tension.

Without breaking his gaze from her, Silco exhaled slowly through his nose and straightened. "Out. Now."

The command was quiet, but there was no mistaking the authority in his tone. The men hesitated only for a fraction of a second before obeying, exchanging uncertain glances before filing out of the office. The heavy door clicked shut behind them, leaving only the sound of Y/N's unsteady breathing and the distant hum of Zaun outside.

Now, they were alone.

Silco’s expression remained still, unreadable at first. Then something in his eyes flickered—something dark and unrelenting. He exhaled sharply, as if the word itself had physically struck him. His fingers curled slightly against the desk, his grip tightening on the edge.

"No," he muttered, almost too quiet to hear. His voice was steadier when he spoke again, but it carried a sharp edge, like a blade pressed too close. "My daughter died years ago. I watched the explosion consume her. I searched for her." His voice cracked for just a second, but he swallowed it down. "I buried her in my mind long ago. Whatever game you're playing, it ends now."

Y/N flinched at his words, but she refused to back down. "I was found on the bridge," she said firmly, her voice shaking but unwavering. "That’s where they found me, half-dead in the wreckage. That’s where they pulled me from the rubble. You think I’m lying? I don’t even remember my past. Not until now. Not until I saw you."

Silco’s expression twisted into something more dangerous, more volatile. His lip curled, his eyes narrowing as rage seeped into every fibre of his being.

"How dare you?" His voice was low, venomous, trembling with barely contained fury. "How dare you come here and wear her face, speak her name, throw memories of my daughter in my face like some cruel joke?" He took a step forward, his presence suffocating, his breath heavy and uneven. "Who sent you? Piltover? Some bitter enemy hoping to break me with a ghost?"

"I came here looking for answers! The memories started coming back—pieces, fragments of a life I didn’t even know I had. I remember Zaun. I remember you. Your face, your voice, the way you used to hold me when the nightmares wouldn't let me sleep. I remember feeling safe, because you were there."

His nostrils flared as he suddenly shoved his chair back, the legs scraping against the floor with a screech. In a blur of motion, he closed the distance between them. Before she could react, his hands seized her by the collar of her shirt, yanking her forward with a force that made her gasp.

"Stop this!" Silco roared, his grip tightening. His mismatched eyes burned into hers, wild and desperate, his breath ragged. "You think you can come here and tell me this—this lie? You think I don’t know what happened that night? My daughter—my Y/N—died! I lost her! I grieved her!"

His voice cracked, but the fury did not falter. His grip loosened only for a moment before he shoved her back roughly. He turned away, running a trembling hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal trying to force rationality into the chaos raging inside him.

"I am her!" Y/N gasped, stumbling back but steadying herself. "I remember things! I remember sneaking sweets with a woman when you weren’t looking. I remember this big man lifting me onto his shoulders so I could see the city from above. I remember you, tucking me in at night, promising that nothing in Zaun would ever hurt me. I remember you, Dad!"

Silco spun toward her, fury warring with something deeper, something fragile and afraid. "Don’t call me that!" he snarled, his hands clenched into trembling fists. "You think I’m some fool? That I’ll just accept this, that I’ll believe some imposter walking into my office, speaking words she doesn’t understand?"

Y/N’s chest tightened, her breath coming in sharp gasps. "You know it’s true!" she shouted, stepping closer, desperation clawing at her voice. "You feel it, don’t you? Tell me I’m lying! Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t recognize me!"

Silco finally turned to her again, ready to fire back with another denial, ready to rip her claim apart—but then he saw them.

Her eyes.

His breath hitched in his throat. His body tensed, every muscle going rigid. His mind screamed at him to ignore it, to refuse what was staring him in the face. But he couldn't.

Because she had his eyes.

That same piercing shade, the same intensity, the same fire that he had once looked down upon when she was small, when she clung to his sleeve and laughed at his stories. That unmistakable colour that had once been filled with trust, with love, with the unwavering belief that he would always protect her. He had seen his own reflection in them before—years ago, before everything had burned.

And now, here they were again, staring back at him.

His breath grew unsteady, his fingers twitching at his sides. The room felt too small, the air too thick. His denial wavered, teetering on the edge of something he couldn’t afford to feel. But it was there, raw and painful, gnawing at him like a wound he had never allowed to heal.

His daughter had his eyes.

Before he could stop himself, his hands moved. He reached forward, almost hesitant, and grabbed at the collar of her shirt, pulling it back roughly to expose the smooth skin of her collarbone.

And there it was.

The birthmark. The crescent-shaped mark he had traced absentmindedly when she was small, pressing soft kisses against her temple as she drifted off to sleep in his arms. The proof, undeniable and cruel in its finality.

His breath hitched sharply, his legs giving out beneath him as he collapsed onto his knees. A choked sound left him—something between a sob and a gasp, something unrecognizable even to himself. His hands trembled as they reached out again, this time not to grab or shake her, but to hold. To make sure she was real.

Y/N barely had time to react before his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into him with a force that knocked the breath from her lungs. His grip was tight, desperate, like he was afraid that if he let go, she would slip away again, lost to the fire and smoke of the past. His fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt, clutching her like she was the only thing tethering him to the world.

"You're here," Silco whispered, his voice breaking. "You're really here."

Y/N felt her own breath shudder, her arms slowly lifting to wrap around him in return. She had come here seeking answers, seeking the truth.

And now, she had found home.

#Arcane #Arcane Fandom #Arcane Fluff #Arcane Angst #silco x daughter!reader

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