#and you all get to sit with trying to figure out the story that i would want to apply this quote to duke with aint that fun

[gamercookies]

Giving thanks for..

Genre: smut, enemies to lovers.

Word count:2.8k+

Warnings: rough!ni-ki, shy!y/n, fingering “under the table”, worshipping, unprotected sex, teasing, dirty talk, praising, throat-fucking, hate-fuck.  Note: I love making these stories idk why but they peak my interest so much!! I know it’s not thanksgiving yet but imma be busy on those days I’m off, but plz enjoy :3 and take care of urself 💕🙏🏼

You’ve been enemies for a really long time. Ni-ki, which you couldn't stand him, had been teasing and humiliating you throughout school. But then, out of the blue, he invited you to his family's Thanksgiving dinner. Sure, there would be the usual “I‘m grateful for…” moments, so you figured nothing too surprising would unfold, right?

Today you were just chilling at home alone while your parents were at their hometown enjoying thanksgiving dinner, you felt bored, alone. Of course you didn’t want to go because you didn’t feel like it. But once you finished an hour call with them, you stared up at the ceiling from the bed. 

You sigh in boredom, sitting back up from the bed. “What am I gonna do, I’m all alone.. I guess I can make dinner for myself and watch some Netflix or something.” Suddenly you receive a notification from your phone, you assume “oh! Maybe my parents sent a picture of themselves!” You check but your excited expression turns into shock and confusion.. it says: “Hey y/n, sorry to annoy you as always lol 😂, but anyways I was wondering if you’re interested in coming over to my house for thanksgiving I have no one to enjoy besides my parents.” 

“What?! Ni-ki.. he seriously invited you to his thanksgiving dinner, seriously?” You tell yourself blankly staring at the message for minutes. You roll your eyes and reply: 

“Fine. 😒Only because I also have nothing to do, fine I’ll come over. What time?” 

He types back: “Around 6PM, it will just be a normal thanksgiving, nothing out of the ordinary. 😊” 

… 

It’s 6PM and you’ve just arrived in front of his home, and you ring the doorbell. You stand there waiting for him or someone to open. You know you look stunning in that red dress, which perfectly highlights your curves without being overly short. Then Niki opens the door, “Hey y/n, come on in, I’ll introduce you to my parents.” As he gestured you to walk in. “Thank you.” You say, as he shuts the front door leading you to the dining table. You see a neatly organized dinning table, with a candle in the middle.  

Ni-ki clears this throat and speaks, “Mom, dad. This is y/n, a “friend” of mine I invited, I hope you guys don’t mind her.” His mom replies, “N-no we don’t mind! Hello, y/n. Please I don’t mind you inviting her over, please sit down and join us for dinner today.” You look at his mother and smile politely, as you take your seat. “Hello, Mrs. It’s nice to meet you, it’s kind enough of your son to invite me over, since my parents are at their hometown enjoying thanksgiving.” His father speaks behalf, “Oh no worries! That’s very nice of our son to do that, inviting someone like you over, you seem a very well polite girl so there’s no harm in that.” Ni-ki then sits down next to you, “Yeah, I felt like that’s a nice thing to do behalf that it’s thanksgiving, we should be kind to each other, right y/n?” As he says that sarcastically. 

You feel a bit nervous about meeting his parents, but you manage to smile and nod. “Of course, it's a good thing to invite friends over." You say softly, trying not to show how anxious you really feel. To pass the time waiting for the dinner his parents and especially you talk about how you’ve been, your parents, mostly about your life. But then his father asks, “Do you have a boyfriend yet, young lady?” 

You blush slightly, feeling a little embarrassed by the question. "Well, I haven't found anyone who really catches my interest yet," you admit shyly.

"Maybe one day soon though!" You add quickly, hoping to change the subject before things get too awkward. 

But it gets interrupted as soon as the food arrives. You smell all of the delicious aromas wafting from the dishes. "Wow... everything looks amazing!" You exclaim enthusiastically, trying to cover up your earlier blunder. “Who’s cutting the turkey today?” 

Niki looks around, his parents and you seem to be waiting for someone to cut into the turkey. He takes a deep breath and stands up. "I'll do it," he announces confidently. "After all, it's Thanksgiving.” With that said, he walks over to where the turkey is sitting and grabs a knife. He gives it one swift stroke, carving off a piece of meat before placing it onto a plate. You can’t help but deny the way he looks in that suit, the way he picks up that knife, it’s like you wanna touch him.

But you then take a bite of some turkey and gravy - it's even better than it smells! As you all savor the meal throughout the evening, saying what you’re grateful for, besides Niki.. and of course, remembering to keep dinner etiquette in mind, everything was smooth. But soon enough you feel ni-ki leaning against you, his hot breath in your ear. “You look damn good in this dress.. I can’t help but notice it so much.” You blush deeply at his compliment, your heart pounding in your chest. You're not used to receiving compliments like this, especially not from someone as attractive as him. “T-thanks.. I mean I have to look presentable to your parents..” After you finish your food, you place your fork down gently and lean back in your chair. You take a deep breath to calm your racing heart. “Was the food good, sweetie? I made it this morning.” His mother smiles softly at you. 

Before you could respond, you feel a hand sliding up and down your thigh making you gasp quietly. “What the..” you mutter to yourself, as Ni-ki continues doing that under the table. You try to play it cool despite losing focus on the conversation. 

"O-oh, your food was amazing!", you respond sincerely, doing your best to ignore Ni-ki’s wandering hand. "I've never had such delicious mashed potatoes before..." He then leans over you and whispers with a small smirk, “I didn’t invite you just for a normal thanksgiving, I also wanted something else.. to tease and make you feel humiliated in front of my parents.” But then, Ni-ki’s mother speaks trying to get your attention, “Sweetie? You okay..? I was asking you where do you plan to go for vacation next month with your parents?” Ni-ki then slides your panties aside and inserts 2 fingers inside you without warning.

“O-oh! I was thinking maybe Thailand-ah!” You say making you blush in embarrassment, “Sorry about that.. it’s just something accidentally hit me. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, doing your best to keep a neutral expression. 

“Thailand sounds lovely! It’s a wonderful place to travel.. when I was young..” she continues talking while you continue trying to hold your moans infront of them two. “Ni-ki.. stop that.. it’s embarrassing..” you whisper to him. “Come on~ your pussy deserves my fingers in you now, you make me crave you so much in that dress.” He says in a low, sultry voice. 

His mother notices the blush on your face and the discomfort in your voice, but assumes it's due to the heat of the room or perhaps nervousness from being in new surroundings.

"Oh dear, I apologize if we're making you uncomfortable. We just love sharing stories about our travels!", she says reassuringly. 

“N-no Mrs.. it’s not your fault it’s just it’s a bit hot right now.”, as you manage to choke out between stifled moans. Ni-Ki’s father then speaks, “We’ll clean up the mess, why don’t you show her your room.” 

Ni-Ki inserts a third finger, making you moan quietly. “Yes of course father, I’ll kindly show her my room.” And with that both of his parents head to the kitchen with the dirty plates, and utensils. You finally pull his hand away from your pussy, “What was that for Ni-ki!? You can’t just do that while I’m talking to them.. that’s embarrassing. I nearly came all over your hand.”  He winks, “Oh really? because I really wanted that pussy of yours.. I couldn’t resist.” “Now come on, let’s head to my room, shall we~?” He takes your hand to make you stand up so you can follow Ni-ki upstairs to his room. Once the door is closed behind you, he pins you against it.

"You know," he murmurs seductively, "Your little moans were music to my ears..." Before you can respond, he silences you with a passionate kiss. His tongue explores your mouth while his hands roam freely over your body. “I should worship your pussy.. eating you out, making you moan..~” 

You quickly responded blushing deep red. “N-no that’s a bad idea.. especially right now..” Hearing your protests, Ni-ki pulls away with a playful grin. "What's the fun in all this if we don't take risks?" He teases, pressing himself closer against you. “No im going home, I’m not doing your kinky ideas with you.”  Ni-ki seeing you attempt to leave, grabs your wrist tightly. "Running away so soon?" He chuckles darkly, pulling you back towards him. Without warning, he kisses you passionately once more. His other hand reaches down to cup your breast roughly through the fabric of your dress. 

“Mmph! F-fine I want it! But this is a one-time thing, we are still enemies.” You stumble to say, as he releases your wrist and moves to unzip your dress hastily. "Just remember..." he whispers into your ear, "This doesn't change anything between us..." And with that, he pushes you onto his bed and begins undressing you fully, and he kneels in front of you. “Let me worship your pussy.. I can tell it’s already wet from my fingers, naughty girl..” 

"F-fine! Go ahead," you finally relent, biting your lip nervously. “But only this once."  His tongue laps at your clit with expert precision, causing waves of pleasure to ripple through your body.

"Mmm...so tasty..." he murmurs against you before continuing his relentless assault on your sensitive nub. “Ah~! Fuck.. k-keep going..” you moan but you quickly cover your mouth making sure no one hears you. Ni-ki increases the pressure of his tongue on your clit. His hands grip your thighs tightly, holding you in place as he devours you and makes your legs tremble, "Oh God...I'm close!", you gasp out, writhing beneath him. Noticing your impending climax, Ni-ki slows his pace slightly, prolonging your torture. He looks up at you with a devilish grin.

"Not so fast, sweetheart..." he purrs, "I haven't finished yet." You whine desperately, “N-no please I’m close! I need to cum..”

"Oh, is that so?" he teases, trailing his tongue along your inner thigh. "That's the point isn't it?" he teases again, "To feel pleasure so intense that you can barely stand it?" “N-Niki!" you cry out, clenching the sheets beneath. "Please...don't tease me like this! I really need to cum.. come on.” Niki chuckles darkly, his eyes filled with mischief as he watches you squirm underneath him. He knew how to push your buttons, knew exactly what to say and do to get a rise out of you. “What's wrong, sweetness?" he purrs mockingly, "Can't handle a little teasing?" You whine again and looks at him with pleading eyes, “No! I mean yes! Just shut up and let me cum! You asshole! Please.. I need to cum so badly..!”

Niki laughs, his hot breath tickling your skin as he leans in closer. 

He takes a moment to savor the desperation lacing your words. "Fine," he concedes, sliding a finger inside of you. "But only because I want to see those pretty eyes roll back into your head." “Yes please..! I’m gonna.. fuck! Gonna..”, You quickly grab a pillow to cover your moans as you cum onto his face. Niki licks up every last drop of your sweet release, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. He pulls back slowly, standing up to look down at you with a satisfied smirk. “Good girl, I might just fuck you right now while we at it, how about you ride me?” 

"No way I’m not riding you! You’re an asshole!” As you stand up from his bed. “Plus your parents are washing dishes, we can’t just do that..they might hear us!” He smirks pushing you back onto the bed, “Oh come on.. we could make some noise, who cares about them..” He tries to persuade you. “You might like it when you’re handcuffed, I have them.” 

You roll your eyes and scoff at him, “Ugh.. whatever I’ll ride you while I’m handcuffed…” “Really?” Niki asks surprised, “Well alright then.” He goes to his drawer and takes out a pair of handcuffs. “Put these on.” “Alright.”, you say as you hold out your wrists for him to cuff you. Once he locks them, he smirks, “Fuck, you look sexy like this, handcuffed.. I can easily do anything to you.” He reaches down and unzips his pants, freeing his thick member. It throbs slightly as it bobs free from its confines.  "Here," he says, offering you his shaft. "Why don't you start by sucking on this?"

“Alright, I’ll please you..” You say as you lean down taking his cock in your mouth. You bob your head slowly licking his tip before sliding down further, taking half of his dick in your mouth. Without warning, he thrusts deeper into your mouth. His cock hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him. “Mmph!~Too big and deep.!” You manage to say while he doesn't stop though; instead, he continues to fuck your face ruthlessly.

You tease him back by saying, “I’ll pull my mouth out-” “No you won’t,” he says. “Or else I will kick you outta of my house and make sure you never return.” Then he forces his way inside your mouth again, his member hitting the back of your throat, forcing another round of gags from you. As he keeps fucking your throat, you slap his leg hard, trying to signal him to stop. Ignoring your weak attempt to resist, Niki continues to thrust into your mouth. He can feel the familiar tingling at the base of his spine, signaling his imminent release.

"That's it..." he groans, "I'm gonna cum..."

Before long, he explodes inside your mouth. His hot seed fills your mouth and spills onto your chin as he rides out his orgasm.  "There..." he pants, "That wasn't so bad was it? Now why don't you get those pretty legs of yours moving and ride me like a good girl." “O-okay..” You stutter out as you position yourself to sit on his cock despite being handcuffed. With a single thrust, he buries himself deep within you. 

"Fuck..." he groans, "So tight..." As he begins to move beneath you, bucking his hips upwards to meet each of your downward thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as they make love roughy. "Ride me baby," he growls, "Show me how much of an asshole you think I am." “Fuck.. you..! Ah~!” , you moan out quietly. “J-just don’t thrust up more..” “Oh, is that what you want?" He teases, "Don't worry, I'll make sure to keep things gentle for you." Despite his promise, he continues to thrust up into you ruthlessly. His large member filling you over and over again until both of you are panting heavily. "You like that?" he growls quietly, "You like being fucked by an asshole like me?" 

“I hate you so much! Ahh~” you continue to moan out as you start to ride him faster, grinding your clit against him as you ride him. Niki groans deeply as you grind against him, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He can feel the heat building up within him again.

"Fucking hell..." he mutters, "You're such a naughty girl..." With one final thrust, he buries himself deep inside of you. His hot seed spurts inside of you as he releases inside of you. “Fuck.. I’m cumming too..!” Niki grunts as he feels you tighten around him, your own climax rippling through your body. He can feel every spasm and twitch of your pussy as you cum. "Good girl," he murmurs, "That was quite the show." As he uncuff and removes the handcuffs from your wrists, “There.. am I still an asshole to you, y/n? Despite panting you responded, “n-no.. you were good, I give you that. I guess we aren’t really enemies anymore.” 

Suddenly you both hear a knock, his father was yelling from the door while Ni-ki’s mother was standing next to him, “Ni-ki, y/n, Are you okay? I hear some noise and wanted to make sure you guys were okay!” 

Niki sighs as he hears his parent's voices, realizing that they've been too loud. He quickly pulls up his pants and straightens out his shirt. "Yeah dad, we're fine," he calls out, "Just having a little fun." He looks at you with a smirk, "Guess we better clean up real quick."

You smirk and laugh at him, “I told you this could’ve happened.” He laughs softly, "Yeah, you did." Niki gives you a playful wink, "Maybe next time we should try to be quieter especially you, y/n." As he listens to his parent's footsteps fade away, he relaxes again. Turning back to you, he grins mischievously. “One last thing.., I’m grateful today for eating your pussy, y/n.” 

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 7: You Don’t Choose Your Family

Y/n gets a surprise visit of her father at the apartment. It's not that she's not happy about it...but you don't choose your family.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, mentions of divorce, D&W.

A/N: hey!! I am BACK!! I am absolutely not done with the story nor my exams but do not worry about anything. Chapter 7 is here (*applause*) and it's the continuation of the last one😚 we are also getting more of the Logan x reader I promised you 🤭 hope you like it!!!! enjoyyyyy <3

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist / Previous Part

Y/N wasn’t expecting the call.

Her evening was supposed to be low-key —grading papers, maybe catching a show with Logan and Wade later. But when Logan called, everything changed.

When she arrived, her father was comfortably seated on the couch, chatting animatedly with Logan. Logan looked both polite and slightly panicked— caught in the middle of a conversation he didn’t initiate. The sight almost made Y/N laugh. How Logan always ended up trapped with the chattiest person ever was a mystery.

“Dad!” Y/N greeted, pulling her father’s attention away from Logan.

“Hey, kiddo!” Your father, Daniel, stood up with a grin, acting as if this surprise visit was the most normal thing in the world. “I thought I’d drop by and see how you were doing.”

Y/N gave him a quick hug, still trying to process the unexpected visit. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

“Just figured I’d come check on you in this new place of yours!” he said, waving it off as no big deal.

Logan stood, relieved now that Y/N was here to handle things. “I’ll let you two catch up,” he murmured, retreating toward the kitchen.

“Thanks, Logan,” Y/N said softly, before turning back to her father. “You’ve met Logan?”

Daniel nodded. “Yeah, nice guy. We were just talking about his work—special ed teacher, right?”

“Yeah, he is,” Y/N replied, adjusting to the idea of her dad sitting in her apartment, chatting with Logan of all people.

A moment later, the door opened, and Wade strolled in after his shift at the bar, his usual grin plastered across his face. He spotted Y/N and her dad sitting in the living room and raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, what’d I miss?” Wade asked, dropping his bag by the door.

“Wade, this is my dad,” Y/N introduced, trying to keep the situation from becoming even more awkward.

Wade immediately brightened. “Ah, family!” he announced with his signature charm, shaking her dad’s hand. “I’m Wade. Roommate number one— the one who makes sure this place doesn’t burn down.”

Y/N tried not to laugh while Logan snorted from the kitchen. Daniel chuckled, easily won over by Wade’s humor. “Nice to meet you, Wade.”

Wade flashed Y/N a grin before slipping off toward the kitchen, joining Logan who was standing by the counter, quietly observing from a distance.

“So that’s Y/N’s dad?” Wade asked, leaning against the counter. “What’s the verdict?”

Logan shrugged slightly, glancing back at the living room. “Talks a whole lot. Very intense. Protective. Y/N’s surprised by the visit.”

Wade crossed his arms, clearly intrigued. “I know, she was at the bar when you called. Did he mention why he’s here?”

Logan shook his head. “Not really. Just asked me a thousands questions in less than ten minutes. I didn’t want to pry.”

“Good call,” Wade nodded, then peered over the counter toward the living room again. “He staying for dinner?”

“No idea.” Logan replied, though the question hung between them as they began preparing something simple.

From the kitchen, Wade called out, “Mr. Y/L/N, are you staying for dinner?”

Before Y/N could answer, her dad jumped in with a grin. “Absolutely.”

Y/N shot a look in Wade and Logan's direction, as if to say, I wasn’t planning this, but they simply exchanged a glance between themselves. They shared a silent understanding— something about the situation was off. Wade raised an eyebrow, while Logan gave a subtle nod, signaling that they were both on alert now.

With no turning back, they set about preparing a simple meal, something easy but filling— pasta and a salad. While they worked, the soft hum of Y/N and her father’s conversation continued in the background, though they couldn’t help but tune in occasionally, catching snippets of what they were saying.

———

“So,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “What brings you here, Dad?”

Daniel leaned back on the couch, his eyes scanning the room. “Do I need a reason to visit my daughter?”

Y/N gave a small, hesitant smile. “No, of course not. But you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“Wanted to surprise you,” he replied with a shrug, though there was something in his tone that sounded off. “Thought I’d check out your new place. Make sure it’s... decent.”

Y/N nodded slowly, sensing the subtle judgment in his words. “It’s fine, Dad. I like it here.” She let her eyes drift to the kitchen where Logan and Wade were working, grateful for the slight distraction.

Her father followed her gaze, raising an eyebrow when he saw Logan. “So… Logan, right?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said quickly, confused as to where this was going. “What about him?

“He seems like a solid guy. You sure you two are just... roommates?” He asked and she bit the inside of her cheek, bracing herself for where this conversation might go. 

“Yes, Dad. We’re just roommates. That’s all.”

“Alright, alright, but what about Wade?” he asked,

“What's going on with you?" she blurted, raising an eyebrow as a grin threatened to break through.

Her father held up his hands in defense. “Just asking. Your mother and I used to talk about stuff like this, you know.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the mention of her mom. Her father rarely brought her up that way, especially with how tense things still were between her parents, even decades after the divorce.  It was usually more an inappropriate comment her mother didn’t deserve. 

“Oh, really?” she asked carefully, not sure where this was heading.

“Yeah,” Daniel continued, his tone softening a little. “Back before things went... south. We used to wonder what you’d end up doing, where you’d live, and who you’d end up with. She always had these big ideas. Thought you’d find someone nice. Maybe settle down with a guy like one of these guys.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond but paused, momentarily stunned by his gentler tone. Her father, for once, wasn’t launching into some bitter comment about her mom.

“She really said that?” Y/N asked softly, her curiosity outweighing her hesitance.

Daniel nodded with a smile. “She did. We were always so worried about you, you know? But it wasn’t just about who you’d end up with. We would imagine your entire future, what career you’ll end up choosing, how many dogs you would have— cause you always wanted one and we always told you ‘You’ll get one when you'll have your own house’…”

Y/N was quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. It had been so long since her father had spoken about her childhood without bitterness that she almost didn’t know how to respond.

“I didn’t know you guys had my whole life planned,” Y/N chuckled, her voice softer now, her guard slowly lowering.

Daniel glanced over at her, smiling. “Yeah, well…we did that with your brother— although we didn’t expect any of his life choices, but that’s another story.”

For the first time in years, Y/N felt a connection with her father. A sense of mutual understanding that didn’t come laced with tension or resentment. It was brief, but it was something.

She smiled, a real one this time. “Thanks for telling me all that, Dad. That means a lot.”

Daniel reached over and squeezed her hand, his touch firm but comforting. “I missed you, honey.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight between them lighten. “I missed you too.”

Before the moment could grow too emotional, Logan called from the kitchen, “Dinner’s ready.”

Y/N looked toward the kitchen and then back at her father, who was already starting to stand.

“Well, let’s see what your roommates can do in the kitchen,” Daniel said with a faint smirk.

As they made their way to the table, Y/N couldn’t help but think that they’d actually had a good conversation. One that hadn’t ended with her dad tearing her mom down or leaving her feeling caught in the middle. Maybe things weren’t perfect between them, but for now, this small moment of peace was enough.

Daniel took the seat next to Y/N, while Logan and Wade sat on the opposite side. The conversation started politely enough, with Wade doing his usual job of keeping things light. He shared stories from his bartending adventures, as he always did, earning a few chuckles from James, who seemed to enjoy Wade’s humor.

The smell of the simple pasta dish Logan and Wade had thrown together filled the apartment. The atmosphere was initially warm, with everyone engaged in casual conversation.

“So, Wade,” Y/N’s dad said as he twirled his fork through the spaghetti. “Y/N told me you're a comedian?”

Wade grinned. “Yeah, I make people laugh for a living. Or at least try to. It’s a tough crowd out there.”

Daniel nodded. “Well, we could all use more of that these days.”

The conversation ebbed and flowed easily at first, moving between work, the city, and Y/N’s life in the apartment. Wade cracked jokes here and there, and Logan offered his quiet, thoughtful input when needed. It felt comfortable, almost like a normal family dinner.

But then, the conversation shifted.

“So, Y/N,” her dad began, his tone changing ever so slightly. “Have you heard from your mom lately? Still living the California dream, I assume.”

Y/N felt her body tense, and she shot a quick glance at Logan, who was watching her father closely. Wade picked up on the shift too, though he didn’t say anything.

“She’s doing fine,” Y/N replied cautiously. “We talked last week, actually. She’s been busy with work, but she’s good.”

Her dad gave a small, dismissive shrug. “Work. Right. And still with that guy, I suppose?”

Y/N's eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes. His name is Paul.”

Her father sighed, shaking his head. “I just don’t get it. She moves halfway across the country, barely checks in, and now with your brother all the way in Europe—”

“Dad,” Y/N interrupted. “She didn’t move across the country to get away from us. She moved for herself. And we’re fine. Sam and I are doing just fine.”

Daniel scoffed softly, setting his fork down. “I’m not saying you’re not fine, Y/N. I just don’t see how a mother can be so far away from her kids and not feel guilty. If I were her, I’d—”

“Well, you’re not her,” Y/N cut in, her voice sharper now. “You’ve been divorced for years. She didn’t abandon us, and she still cares. You don’t need to keep bringing it up like she left us to fend for ourselves.”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he glanced between Y/N and her father, sensing the rising tension. Wade shifted uncomfortably in his seat but stayed silent, eyes flicking to Logan for some kind of cue.

“I’m just saying,” Daniel continued, his voice lower now, “she could have stayed. Made more of an effort. But she left.”

“She didn’t leave us, Dad,” Y/N said, her patience wearing thin. “And honestly, Sam and I— we’re adults. We didn’t need her to stay and ‘raise’ us anymore. You’ve moved on with your life. Why can’t you let her do the same?”

Her father’s face tightened, and the air in the room grew heavy with unspoken frustration. For a moment, it felt like everyone at the table was holding their breath.

“I know you’re grown, Y/N,” Daniel said quietly, his eyes hard but sad. “But I don’t think a parent ever stops worrying about their kids. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Y/N sighed, trying to keep her voice steady. “I am okay, Dad. But you’ve got to stop blaming her for everything. This is your issue, not mine. Mom’s living her life, and I’m living mine.”

The room was thick with tension now, and no one knew quite what to say. Y/N’s father looked down at his plate, clearly feeling the weight of her words. Logan glanced at Wade, who shot him a silent look of understanding—they both knew when to stay out of family affairs.

After a long pause, Daniel finally spoke, his voice quieter than before and looking at all the people at the table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag things down.”

Y/N softened and shook her head. “I know, Dad. But you’ve got to let this go.”

There was another silence before he nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

The mood at the table lightened just slightly as everyone tried to return to their meals, though the weight of the conversation still hung in the air.

For a moment, there was silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, as if on cue, Wade jumped in, his voice cheerful and light. “You know what’s great about family dinners? Dessert! Who’s ready for some ice cream?”

The sudden change in tone broke the tension, and Y/N gave Wade a grateful look. Her dad, too, seemed to relax, chuckling at Wade’s enthusiasm. “Ice cream, huh? Now that’s something I like to hear.”

As Wade made his way to the kitchen, Y/N’s father glanced around the apartment again. His eyes landed on the fridge, and something seemed to catch his attention. “Hey, is that the picture I think it is?”

Y/N followed his gaze, realizing he was looking at the family photo she had put up weeks ago.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, her voice softer now. “Wade and Logan insisted that I should put it up when I moved in.”

Daniel stood and walked over to the fridge, staring at the picture for a long moment. His expression shifted, a mixture of nostalgia and something else—regret, maybe. He ran a hand through his hair, his voice quiet when he finally spoke. “That was a good day. One of the last before things started to go wrong.”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. Something about the way he was looking at the photo made her heart ache.

“It was,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daniel turned to face her, his eyes softer now. “You’ve grown up so much, Y/N. I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of you. No matter what happened between me and your mom, I’m proud of the person you’ve become. And I’m sorry for…all the mess that we caused.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words. She gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

The moment hung in the air for a beat longer before Wade returned with bowls of ice cream, his voice breaking through the heaviness. “Alright, dessert is served! I got vanilla, chocolate, and this weird one Logan bought—pistachio whatever. Anyone feeling adventurous?”

Daniel chuckled, the warmth returning to his expression. “I’ll stick with chocolate, thanks.”

The atmosphere lightened once again, and they all sat back down at the table, enjoying their ice cream and talking a bit more.

As the plates were cleared and the remnants of dinner were packed away, Y/N walked her father to the door, feeling the tension of the evening settle uncomfortably between them. The earlier argument still simmered, but it had cooled to a manageable level.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” her dad said quietly, standing in the doorway. “It’s just hard, you know? Seeing you grown up, dealing with your own stuff, and not being able to do anything about it.”

Y/N offered a small, tired smile. “I know, Dad. And I appreciate that you care. But I’ve got this. You don’t need to keep fighting old battles.”

Daniel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I just still see you as my little girl. Hard to let that go sometimes.”

Y/N stepped forward and hugged him tightly. “I’ll always be your little girl, Dad. But you’ve got to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Her father hugged her back, his arms wrapping around her in a way that felt both protective and regretful. “I’m sorry for bringing all that up. It wasn’t fair.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes. “It’s okay. Just���next time, maybe we can talk about something else?”

He smiled. “Deal.”

With one last hug, Daniel stepped out into the hallway. “I’ll call you soon. Let me know if you ever need anything.”

“I will.” Y/N said, watching as her dad gave her one last nod before heading down the hallway.

When she closed the door, Y/N leaned against it, letting out a long breath. It hadn’t gone perfectly, but at least it was over. She turned around to find Logan and Wade standing there, watching her with quiet concern.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I had no idea he was going to show up like that. I didn’t mean to put you both through all that drama.”

Wade, who was leaning casually against the kitchen counter, waved it off. “Are you kidding? This is mild compared to some of the shit I’ve seen and heard.”

Logan stepped closer, his expression soft. “You don’t need to apologize. Family stuff happens. We’re in this with you.”

Y/N blinked, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks, but it was just… a lot.”

Logan nodded. “We get it. You don’t choose your family, but you can make your own, you know?”

Wade chimed in with a grin. “And lucky for you, you’ve got us, the best family you could ever create.”

Y/N laughed softly, the warmth of their words settling into her chest. “Thanks, guys.”

Logan gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and Wade, sensing the need for space, stretched dramatically. “Alright, I’m out. This emotional rollercoaster wiped me out. I’ll catch you both in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Wade,” Y/N said, shaking her head with a smile as he disappeared into his room.

Logan gave Y/N a lingering look. “You good?”

She nodded, still trying to shake off the heavy emotions of the night. “Yeah. I just need a minute.”

Logan gave her a small nod. “Take your time. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.”

Logan disappeared into his room as well, and Y/N sank into the couch. The living room was quiet now, and for a while, she let herself just breathe. The weight of the conversation with her dad still lingered, along with the tangled emotions from the night. She found herself staring at nothing, lost in her thoughts.

The hours slipped by unnoticed, the apartment dim and silent around her. She didn’t realize how late it had gotten until she heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Startled, Y/N turned her head to see Logan walking into the living room, his hair tousled from sleep.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, concerned.

Y/N let out a small, humorless laugh. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I did,” Logan said, sitting down on the couch beside her. “But I saw the lights were still on and thought you had fallen asleep here.”

Y/N sighed, her eyes fixed on the floor. “Sorry. I guess I didn’t realize how much time passed. I’ve just been… thinking.”

Logan watched her closely. “About what?”

Y/N shrugged, trying to find the words. “I don’t know. Everything, I guess. My dad, my mom, the divorce… I don’t want to cry about it. It feels like I’d be a little girl again, crying over something that happened so long ago. Like I can’t move on.”

Logan leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as he looked at her. “It doesn’t matter how long ago it was. If it’s still hurting you, it’s okay to cry about it.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to swallow the lump forming in her throat. “But I shouldn’t. I’m not a kid anymore. Fuck, I’m a grown ass adult in my thirties. I can’t let this stuff affect me like it did back then.”

Logan's voice softened. “Y/N, you’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling. You don’t have to hold it in just because it’s been years. It’s still part of you.”

Y/N felt the tears prick at her eyes, but she fought to keep them at bay. “I don’t want to cry.”

“You don’t have to,” Logan said gently. “But if you do, I’m right here. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Y/N’s defenses crumbled at his words. She felt the dam break inside her, and before she could stop herself, the tears started to flow. At first, it was just a few quiet sobs, but soon she was genuinely crying, her shoulders shaking as the weight of everything she had been holding in finally spilled out.

Logan didn’t say a word. He simply shifted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a comforting embrace. Y/N buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking his shirt, but Logan didn’t seem to mind. He just held her, letting her cry, offering nothing but his presence.

After a few minutes, Y/N’s sobs began to quiet. She stayed in Logan’s arms, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek. It was calming, grounding.

“I hate this,” she whispered after a long pause, her voice hoarse. “I hate that it still hurts.”

“I know,” Logan murmured softly. “But it’s okay. You’ve been carrying it for a long time.”

Y/N wiped her eyes, her breathing evening out. “I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Logan said.

Y/N sniffled, pulling back slightly to look at him. “Thank you. For being here.”

Logan gave her a small smile, his hand still resting on her shoulder. “I’ll always be here for you. You know that, right?”

She nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over her, and maybe something else. “Yeah. I do.”

After another long moment of silence, Logan shifted, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You should get some sleep.”

She nodded. “You’re right. I got school tomorrow.”

Logan stood up and offered her a hand, helping her up from the couch. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a little lighter. “You need to rest too, you know.”

Logan chuckled softly. “I will. But I’m not the one who just went through a rollercoaster of a night.”

Y/N gave him a grateful look as they walked toward their rooms. “Night, Logan. And… thanks again.”

Logan stopped at his door and gave her a soft smile. “See you tomorrow.”

With that, they each retreated to their rooms, leaving the quiet of the apartment to settle around them once more. But this time, the silence felt a little more peaceful, a little more comforting.

XXX

[insidekatmind]

Between Friends and Feelings- Pope Heyward and JJ Mayback (love triangle)

The light of the sunset reflected on the waves of the sea, creating games of golden and blue light, while the cool wind gently brushed your skin. It was a quiet evening, a little different from usual, but you knew something was about to happen. The sun was slowly setting behind the hills, and you were sitting on the beach, your legs crossed in the warm sand, trying to relax. But something in the air felt different, and you knew it. Things were changing.

JJ and Pope had always been a part of your life. There had never been a time when one of them wasn’t by your side, though lately, their behavior toward you had changed. While once they were happy being just friends, now there seemed to be a silent competition between them. You couldn’t ignore it, even though you tried not to think about it too much.

"You like watching the sunset, right?" JJ said, breaking your thoughts. You turned and saw him approaching, his mischievous smile still present, but there was something different in his eyes, an intensity you couldn’t ignore.

"Yeah, it’s my favorite spot. I told you it would be nice to watch the sunset together, didn’t I?" you replied, trying to sound natural. But the truth was, his gaze was unsettling, as if he wanted to say something to you that you weren’t ready to understand yet.

Not long after, Pope arrived, and you immediately noticed that his posture was more tense than usual. His eyes, always calm and observant, weren’t quite the same. He was looking at you differently, as if he was searching for something you couldn’t define.

"You're here watching the sea too?" Pope asked, his tone calm but with a hint of nervousness that didn’t escape you. "I thought you’d prefer being in the city, with the music and the crowd."

"Even though I like having fun, sometimes it’s nice to be alone, you know?" you replied, trying to keep your composure.

The two of them sat down next to you, but the atmosphere had shifted. It wasn’t the usual company of friends sharing laughs and stories. There was an underlying tension that you couldn’t ignore, and you couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Then JJ spoke again.

"You know, there’s something special about you," he said, his voice lower, as if he wanted to tell you something he had been holding back. "I’m not saying this just because we’re friends, but really, you’re unique. I don’t understand how anyone could not notice."

Your heart beat faster. It wasn’t the first time he had said it, but this time he seemed more serious, more sincere. The way he was looking at you made you uneasy, but at the same time, it made you feel an energy you couldn’t explain.

Pope took a deep breath, as if trying to decide whether or not to say something. "Yeah, but sometimes I think it’s easier to see all of this when you’re not so focused on yourself. Sometimes I think people don’t really see you," he said, looking you in the eyes with a certain intensity.

"I know you care about me, Pope," you replied, trying to understand what he was getting at. "But I don’t see how this fits into... everything else."

"It’s just hard not to notice you," he said, in a soft voice. "And I feel like you’ve always been more than just a friend to me. But maybe that’s just my head making me think that..."

His gaze was sincere, but also filled with something unspoken. His admiration for you was clear, but the fact that he hadn’t been able to tell you exactly what he was feeling made you uneasy.

JJ, seeing the uncertainty in your eyes, spoke up immediately. "Don’t worry too much, Y/N," he said, trying to calm you down. "I don’t want to make you nervous. It’s just that... sometimes I think we should be more honest with ourselves, with what we feel. We can’t always hide behind jokes and laughter."

And right then, the silence that had settled between you all became heavy. You knew there was a tension none of you three seemed able to face. Your mind raced, trying to understand what was really happening. You had always cared for JJ and Pope, but now you felt like something more was emerging.

The sunset was now fading, but the dying light only heightened the confusion you felt. The two boys were there, next to you, but their gazes on you were too intense. You didn’t know how to respond.

"Y/N..." Pope whispered, moving closer slowly. "I don’t want to lose you as a friend, but there’s something I can’t ignore anymore. I..."

JJ interrupted him, laughing nervously. "Pope, not now, come on," he said, but his smile didn’t seem as spontaneous. "We need to be honest with her, right? We can’t keep hiding what we feel."

Their eyes met for a moment, and you realized words weren’t necessary anymore. The tension between them, and your uncertainty, had reached a breaking point. Everything that had gone unsaid between you was finally coming to the surface.

[cioud-berries]

Mutual Benefit || Chapter 4

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i know i said i wouldnt post for a while and then immediatly posted the next day but i just couldn't help myself. I did stya up till 6am working on this tho LMAO. 

as i mentioned last chapter If wanna know where I am at with the chapters, or even just my life, or just wanna talk, you should join my discord!! It'd be great to see you there! (Link in quotev and wattpad bio) or here: discord.gg/SPNmyV8qJR

Summery:

Posts season 2: Spoiler warning!! Being forced into an arranged marriage, [Name] tried her hardest with her unreceptive husband Salo. After his death, she was forced to replace his council position, trying to figure out who she was as a person. Sevika never expected to get anywhere close to the council, let alone join them. As the stigma around people from Zaun still stood, she struggled to gain the respect from her new fellow councillors. With so many differences how could the two really help one another?

Chapter Warnings:

Season 2 Spoilers

Word count: 2,005

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        Anyone who saw [Name] would assume she was on her afternoon jog with the way she was running through the streets of Piltover. With a regular shirt and pants on she was making her way to her office as quickly as possible. 

        Earlier that day, she received a letter from Sevika that she is willing to hear [Name] out on her plans. She immediately threw Sasha at her nanny and bolted out the door. Sevika wouldn’t arrive for another hour or so, but she now needed to prepare a presentation to try to convince Sevika to fully commit to helping her. 

        When she arrived at her late husband’s office, that had now been given to her, she pulled out the box with all of her files in it, laying them out on the floor in a specific order. Looking them over, she began to write the story in her head that she planned to tell Sevika.

        [Name] was so deeply in thought that she barely heard the loud knock on the door. Carefully jumping over the papers she opened the door to see Sevika waiting for her. “Hi.” She happily exhaled. “I am so glad that you agreed to meet with me.” [Name] turned around, leading Sevika into the room.

        “What’s all of this?” She asked judgmentally while looking down at the mess of papers.

        “Uh.” [Name] hesitated. “My plans.”

        Sevika gave [Name] a sour look while sitting down on the couch that these ‘plans’ were laid out in front of. She looked back up at [Name] waiting for her to continue. “Well, go on.” She leaned back in the chair as [Name] beamed back at her. 

        Bending over, [Name] picked up the first few papers handing them to Sevika. She began to explain the beginning of her plans, the safe deconstruction of the Hex Gate. Sevika handed the papers back after briefly looking over them. 

        [Name] took the papers, grabbing some more. Yet again, Sevika’s eyes were drawn to the behind that was being so beautifully shoved in her face. The second [Name] straightened up and turned back around to Sevika, she could tell. How could she not with the way Sevika’s lips upturned into a sly smile with her eyebrows raised, almost as if she was beckoning [Name] forward.

        Without a beat, [Name] scolded her. “Come on, keep up. If you wanted to just sit there and look at my ass all day, you should’ve just asked for that instead.” She shoved the papers into Sevika’s hands, continuing on with her explanations.

        Sevika couldn’t lie that the way [Name] yelled at her, did make her pay attention more. But maybe it was because she was paying attention to more than just her ass. 

        [Name] went on to explain every single material that would be extracted, and exactly how much of each material would be gained. It was very clear that she did a lot of research on everything, with the help of Caitlyn Kiramman’s database of course.

        Then began the explanation of what exactly she wanted to do with so much metal and machinery. “Of course I want to plug up that airway first.” She started “The one Jinx exploded.” [Name] added for clarification.

        “Jinx didn’t blow that thing up.” Sevika wanted to defend Jinx’s name now that she was dead. “I did.”

        [Name] was shocked at this revelation, not knowing how to respond other than. “Why would you do that?”

        “That Kiramman girl was going to shoot at Jinx with a child in the way.” Sevika explained in a harsh tone.

        [Name] was shocked. Having a child of her own, it hit her closer to home. She didn’t want to believe Sevika’s words but there was no reason to not believe her. Caitlyn was slowly becoming a good friend, but she did hear rumors about what she was like while [Name] was away.

        “Um… Well…” She looks down at her papers, trying to collect her thoughts again. “It still needs to be sealed up quickly. Which is why I would want these plans to be in effect immediately.” She got back on track gaining momentum. “Aside from that I was thinking of using some to reinforce the mines first. This would allow workers to be safer and travel quicker in the mines. Going back to the game, this also would benefit Piltover with the productivity increase of coal and gems. Which in turn, will make the other council members want to vote for it. I then wanted to put a majority of it into housing, once the mines were revamped...”

        Sevika shook her head in disagreement, throwing her papers back into the floor. “Housing needs to come first. If there are less deaths happening in the mines, then there would be more people out on the streets. Which would cause more dead people laying out beside buildings and violence.”

        [Name] thought for a moment, trying to reconfigure her plan. “How to make it sound like this would benefit the council.” She mumbled to herself while her eyes were locked to the papers below her feet.

        Sevika caught it though, throwing out an idea. “If there are more homes, then there will be more people able to work in the mines. Then if the mines are improved, less people would be dyin overall and they would be gettin more money that way.”

        [Name] looked up at Sevika with a smirk on her face “That could work.” She walked over to her desk, grabbing a notepad and pen. “I would just need to get the annual death toll caused by both homelessness and from mine collapses, to really drive the point.”

        “I can tell you now that those numbers you’re gettin are nowhere close to the reality of it.” Sevika watched [Name] from the couch.

        “I don’t doubt it.” [Name] huffed. “About what percentage of people do you think gets reported? So I know how much I should account for.”

        Sevika thought for a moment, thinking about all of the people she has had to bury in her life. “I would say about half.”

        “Half?” [Name] asked out of shock. “We need to create a better system of keeping track of that.” Sevika silently agreed. [Name] walked over with her pen and paper, ready to jot down any more notes that Sevika had.

        Thinking back to how everyone does things with the benefit of themselves in mind, Sevika finally began to question [Name]’s intentions, needing to know what the catch was. “Why are you doing all of this?” Sevika asked plainly.

        [Name] looked a bit confused at her question, not knowing why Sevika was worrying about her intentions. “To help improve the life of people in Zaun?” She said in a questioning tone, like she's asking if that is the wrong answer.

        “You told me that everyone does things to benefit themselves.” Sevika explained. “So how does all of this benefit you?”

        [Name] thought for a moment. While she originally did this with good intentions, she knew Sevika was right and that she did benefit in some way. “I guess I’m doing it because I understand how it feels to be forgotten about by your government. And I don’t want people feeling like that.” 

        Sevika was shocked, and almost disgusted. “You’re a princess, how could you ever begin to understand how we feel?” 

        “I wasn’t always a princess.” [Name] snapped back, not liking Sevika’s tone. “I will say that my country's issues weren’t as bad as Piltover’s and Zaun’s, but it was still enough for us to revolt and overthrow the government.”

        Sevika went quiet, trying to connect the dots of her story. But she still didn’t have enough information to fill in the whole picture.

        [Name] too was thinking, she could tell that there was another reason, and she was trying to figure it out. “I am also doing this because of my late husband.” She tested those words out to see how they felt.

        “Your dead husband?” Sevika questioned with a raise of her eyebrow.

        “Yes, my dead husband.” [Name] confirmed sorting through the reasoning. “He hated Zaun, and did everything in his power to knock you all down and make sure you never got up again. I never agreed with it so I am now trying to reverse his damage.”

        “So you’re doing all of this,” She motioned to all of the papers on the floor, “to make yourself feel better.”

        “In a way, yeah.” [Name] didn’t like the way Sevika worded it, but knew that she was right. Sevika looked at her in a way that screams ‘Are you serious?’ She could only defend herself. “What? Would you rather have me raise taxes in honor of him?”

        “No.” Sevika huffed out. It did make her feel better that [Name] was getting an emotional gain and it was not some sort of darker meaning behind her kindness.

        “That’s what I thought. So as I was saying…” She again continued her explanation. Sevika now was voicing her opinions more, correcting her on things that she had gotten wrong. As more time went on, the hungrier [Name] got. “I think this is a good spot to stop and have a lunch break.” 

        Before Sevika could even begin to think of protesting, [Name] was out the door, going to have someone get them food. On her return, things were silent, [Name] didn’t want to continue talking about the plans and Sevika didn’t care to talk either. 

        “Sasha, my daughter, is quite infatuated with you.” [Name] said into the quiet air, trying to start a conversation. Sevika merely raised an eyebrow at her. “She really likes your arm replacement. She keeps begging me to get her one just like yours.” [Name] chuckled at the absurdity that was her daughter.

        “I don’t think she wants to go through the process of losing an arm,” Sevika said.

        [Name] walked over to the couch, sitting down beside Sevika, on the side with her mechanical arm. Sevika still had her cloak on to hide it, but it had slipped off, revealing some of the metal.

        “I don’t think she understands that you lost your arm.” [Name] looked back up at Sevika. “She thinks that you just replaced your arm with this one because it makes you look cooler.”

        Sevika snickered at the ridiculousness of the comment. Things went quieter again, this time it was heavier, but not in a bad way. Their eyes were locked for a few seconds, but it felt like minutes to [Name].

        Looking back down at the arm, her fingers inched closer to it, wanting to touch it, wanting to touch her. “If you don’t mind me asking; How did you lose your arm?” 

        Sevika noticed her wandering fingers and moved her arm closer to her, not wanting it to be touched. “It got blown off.”

        [Name] realized she had been caught, pulling her hands back to herself. “I’m sorry.” She spoke sincerely.

        “This arm has helped me in many ways.” Sevika added, looking down at it, pushing aside the apology.

        Things yet again fell quiet between the two. They both stared at each other, almost like a staring contest, each of them wanted to see who would look away first. Sevika’s eyes traveled down, scanning over her body. She gave the same smirk she always did after appreciating good body. 

        [Name] was flustered, but didn’t want to show it. Pulling away first, she stood up, walking over the notes. “We should… uhm… continue with this until the food gets here.” 

        “If that is what you want.” Sevika replied in a cunning tone, leaning back into the couch and letting her legs spread wider. [Name] continued on. Sevika was still adding on, but her tone was different. 

        With the way she was speaking and presenting herself to [Name], it was making it very hard for her to focus on the task at hand. Which is exactly what Sevika wanted. [Name] could only hope for the food to come faster to break up the tension.

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Overall Masterlist

Discord link

[slight-gaming-addict]

Hello! Can I please request for prompt 6 one shot with Idia x reader please? Idk if I’m doing this right so please ignore this if I am

~ you're unaware of the past inhabitant still living in your newly bought house ~

pairing: idia shroud x gn!reader

warnings: mentions of a dead body and blood, supernatural elements, gunshot wound, possible grammar errors, probably more warnings

word count: 1.4k

event masterlist | main masterlist | ko-fi

ʜᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ

Everyone you know called you crazy for even thinking of getting a house like this. The cursed house that hasn't had a single owner keep the house for more than a month before it was back on the market again. The real estate agent was ecstatic as she led you through the house after your interest in it, showing you each and every thing that's been done to it over the last year that it's been on the market to try and attract new buyers.

With all the new modern renovations that have been done, you would've thought that it would be at least double the price than it was, and you soon learned why it was so cheap on the market.

Some years ago there was apparently a gruesome murder of a young man that happened in the house, and it's never been the same ever since. Every single person that's stayed in this house has left as quickly as they arrived, claiming that they'd awake to things being thrown around the house and voices echoing throughout making it known that they were not wanted there.

You've never really had a paranormal experience before, but you'd be lying if you weren't the slightest bit curious if the stories about the house are true. You don't have another option anyway, the house being the only place in the neighborhood that's in your budget, and you don't really see the appeal of sleeping in your car.

The real estate agent is practically bouncing on her feet as you officially sign the deed to the house as well as the check for the down payment that you still feel should have been higher, but you're not going to complain.

A couple of weeks later, you have practically everything unpacked—not that you had much—and are settling into the house nicely. You haven't had anything that they said has happened in the house happen to you, so you figured the rumors were just that, rumors.

It isn't until late one night that something happens. You're rinsing off a dish in the sink when a mug that sits next to you on the counter suddenly falls off and shatters to the ground.

You jump, dropping the dish you had in your hand into the sink. You look down at the smashed pieces on the floor next to your feet and take a step away from the glass. Looking around the room, you see nothing out of place that would cause it to happen, and you didn't think it was that close to the edge of the counter, but after a couple minutes of contemplating how it happened, the only reason you come up with is you accidentally bumping it, even though you don't remember doing it.

The next day, you're back in the kitchen making breakfast when the blender suddenly starts from across the room. You jump once again at the sudden noise, turning around from what you're doing. You walk up to the blender with confusion, not even remembering plugging it in. Trying to turn it off, you hit the power button, but the blender continues to whirl. You hit all the buttons, but nothing seems to turn it off. Eventually, you reach behind it and yank the power cord out of the wall, letting the blender finally come to a stop to plunge the room into a sudden silence.

You shake your head, trying to rationalize it, but not knowing how. You guess faulty wiring could come into play, though it's not that likely it's the only excuse you have. Your mind wanders to the rumors of the house and the reasoning why countless other people have left previously, but you don't have a choice right now, needing somewhere to live. You just hope you don't regret the decision to stay later down the line.

A week passes and small things keep happening around the house, things being knocked off counters, lights turning off as soon as you flip them on, and furniture being shifted from its position. The thought of leaving crosses your mind a couple of times, but all the things that happen seem so minor that you don't feel like you're in any real danger.

It isn't until one night that it changes. You're walking into your bedroom from the bathroom, getting ready to go to bed when you hear a low voice emitting from the corner of the room.

"Why won't you just leave?" Your heart jumps into your throat as you turn to face the noise, letting out a small scream as you see a figure in the corner.

Idia lets out a small scream similar to yours when he realizes that you can actually see him in the room. "You can see me?" He asks in disbelief as you push yourself against the opposite wall with wide eyes.

"How did you get in here?" You say, his questions not even registering in your mind that's completely scrambled at the moment. You would have probably recognized him from the images online from all of the articles about the house if you weren't too busy thinking someone broke into your house.

"Hey, wait-" He tries to speak, but you're preoccupied with grabbing the first thing you can and swinging it directly at him. You watch the object phase right through him and hit the wall behind him before dropping to the ground. Your eyes widen as a puff of light smoke covers the area where he just was before dissipating completely.

"What the-" Your eyebrows crease in confusion, looking at the now empty spot where the person just was.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't throw things at me." His voice sounds from next to you this time causing your body to jump and spin around, finding him standing next to your bathroom door this time.

"How did you-" You look back at the spot he just was in wonder as to how he got across the room without you seeing him. Looking towards the person once again is when his appearance finally clicks into your brain. "You're Idia..." As soon as the words leave your mouth, he's groaning out in annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm the poor guy who was murdered in his own home because he couldn't hear the intruder walking into his room from his stupid noise-canceling headphones." You just stare at him, trying to process the information of you physically speaking to someone who's not alive.

"But, how are you here?" You ask, your voice quiet as if you're scared of scaring him off.

"I wish I knew." He sighs out folding his arms over his chest in almost a defensive position. The last thing Idia remembers was sitting in front of his computer, ready to drown out the world around him and finally use his noise-canceling headphones when suddenly everything went dark.

He didn't hear the person breaking in through the headphones and the next thing he knew, he was staring down at the scene in front of him. His body was lying face down on the keyboard, blood dripping down onto the floor from the gunshot wound in his head, and even from seeing all that, he was the most upset about his brand new headphones getting blood all over them, and the very expensive keyboard getting completely ruined.

He's been wandering around the house ever since, watching the police come in and do their investigation, and the first people to move in since the incident. He didn't even mean to do it at first, but he knocked a painting off the wall when he saw them get settled in what was once his room. He saw their reaction and figured he could continue to move and knock things over, trying, and succeeding to run them out of the house.

He'd do it for every single person that would move into the house, working flawlessly, until you that is. He's not even sure how you're able to see him, no one else could.

"You're the reason why no one's been able to stay in the house." You say, everything starting to come together in your mind, like seeing a ghost, or spirit, or whatever you'd call it, standing right in front of you is an everyday occurrence.

"Yeah, well they were loud. Especially the ones with a newborn, it was like a screaming fest in here, I couldn't even hear myself think." Idia speaks out in a small huff.

"You realize every time you scare someone off you're just going to have to deal with more people coming in to check out the place." You say, looking at him expectedly.

Idia opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then closes it again.

"Fine," he says after a few seconds.

"So I can stay?" You ask with a small smile. Idia just sighs out before disappearing through another light mist. You're taking that as a yes.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

buy me a coffee ♡

[silly-of-the-str1ng]

Dream come True?

A/N: ughhh i love this one, very silly and sweet Billie, direct continuation of the first part- psst go read that first to understand the story! anyways enjoy babes 😘

NOT proof read, may have some weird sentences here and there and untrue information!!

warnings: none

word count: 1.5k

summary: Billie makes you sorta 100% jello during her show

“Wait, wait, what happened? Did you get the tickets?!” Amber’s voice was high-pitched with excitement as soon as she answered, cutting through the panic-stricken rush of words spilling out of your mouth.

“Amber, you won’t believe me, but-” you paused, heart still hammering in your chest, trying to make sense of the unreal situation that had just unfolded in front of you, “Billie Eilish... was just in my mom’s bakery. Like, she was right there, sitting down, talking to me…”

“Wait, hold on,” Amber cut in, her tone now serious with disbelief, “Did you just say Billie Eilish was in your bakery?”

“Yes!” You could barely contain the excitement in your voice, your hands shaking as you paced around the empty bakery. "I was just making croissants, and she walks in like it's no big deal, like she's just another person. I didn’t even recognize her at first, and then I thought, ‘No way,’ but—then it was really her!”

Amber let out a loud gasp on the other end of the phone. “Wait, did you talk to her?! Did she get pastries?”

“Yeah, I told her the pastries weren’t ready yet, and she sat down and... we talked. And then—get this—she offered me tickets to her show. Like, VIP tickets. She said she'd get me up front. And I almost said no!” You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it now. “I was going to turn her down because I thought it was too much, but then I just—she was serious. She’s so... chill. And then she left, and I didn't even get a picture or anything—”

“Oh my god, wait.” Amber’s voice was a mix of awe and jealousy. “Are you telling me that you almost didn’t take the tickets? What’s wrong with you, are you trying to lose your mind?! You know how rare that is, right? Billie Eilish just offered you VIP tickets, front row, probably on the house, and you didn’t snap a picture?! I would’ve died, Y/N! DIED! You could've been in the same room with her! You could've had an actual conversation and—”

“I was in shock!” you shot back, pacing faster now, trying to organize your thoughts. “I didn’t even know what to say to her! It was Billie Eilish, Amber. She’s a literal goddess. And I was standing there like an idiot with flour all over my hands, trying to act normal.”

Amber was quiet for a second, clearly processing what you had just told her. Then she sighed, her voice much softer now. “Okay, well, it sounds like you really had a moment, Y/N. I mean, she must’ve liked you if she’s offering you that kind of access. I think she saw how genuine you were. That’s not something everyone gets to experience.”

You paused, leaning against the counter, letting Amber’s words sink in. She was right. Billie didn’t have to do that. She could’ve easily gone to any other bakery, or at least pretended to be too busy or too famous to care. But she didn’t. She was real. And she seemed to see you as just another person in the crowd, not a screaming fan who would lose their mind over the chance to meet her.

“I think... I think I'm still in shock,” you muttered.

“Well, you should be!” Amber laughed. “But seriously, Y/N, you have to go now. You can’t just let that opportunity slip away.”

“Of course I’m going,” you replied quickly. “I mean... how could I not?”

“And when you meet her again,” Amber said, almost with a warning tone, “You better have a good outfit. You cannot look like you just rolled out of bed again.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll figure it out,” you said, already thinking about what you’d wear. “I can't believe this is real. She... she liked my bakery, Amber. She said she might come back. What if she actually does?”

“Then you're gonna need to be ready,” Amber said with a laugh. “Just make sure you don’t fall apart when you see her again, okay?”

“I won’t, I won’t. I swear,” you muttered, your heart still racing, but now it was a different kind of racing. A kind of exhilaration that only came from knowing you had just crossed paths with someone you'd only ever dreamed of meeting.

“And for the record,” Amber added with a smirk in her voice, “You have to tell me everything—EVERYTHING—that happens at the show. Don’t leave a single detail out.”

“I won’t,” you promised, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling inside you. “This is going to be insane.”

---

The day of the concert finally arrived, and you could hardly focus at work. It had been a blur of checking the time and watching the clock tick closer and closer to the moment when you’d finally be standing in front of Billie Eilish, at one of her sold-out shows, no longer just a fan on the outside, but someone she had actually invited.

When the time came, you found yourself standing at the entrance of the venue, security scanning your pass with an eyebrow raised at the VIP badge that had your name on it. They nodded you through without question. Your heart thumped against your ribcage as you walked through the corridors, past all the other fans who were waiting for the doors to open, and you found yourself at the front, where the stage was. And there, standing beside it—was Billie. She was chatting with the crew, her black hair falling in soft waves around her face, dressed in the kind of casual outfit that still made her look like she had stepped out of a magazine.

Your breath caught in your throat as she spotted you, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Y/N you came!” she smiled as she walked up to you and pulled you in for a warm hug, many your breath hitch involuntarily.

You stood there for a moment, frozen in shock, as Billie Eilish—your idol, the very person who had left you speechless in your mom’s bakery wrapped her arms around you.

 Her embrace was warm, genuine, as if she hadn't just turned the world upside down by offering you VIP tickets. She smelled faintly of something sweet but rich, like coffee and vanilla, and for a second, you couldn't believe this was real.

“I—uh—yeah!” you stammered, trying to play it cool but knowing you were failing miserably. “I, uh, can’t believe this is actually happening.”

Billie laughed, a low, melodic sound that made your heart skip. “I can’t believe you almost didn’t take the tickets. You’re fucking crazy. But I’m glad you did. It’s good to see you again.”

You felt like you were on another planet, standing beside her, watching her move so effortlessly between the fans and the crew like she wasn’t a global superstar. “I—um—wow, you look amazing,” you managed to say, the words almost tripping over themselves in your mind before they came out.

Billie was in a dark blue jersey with the number “80” in big bold letters on the front- she had her iconic glasses on and her baggy shorts as usual- but fuck it didn't make it any less hot to see it in person.

 Billie gave you a playful wink. “You too, though. You’ve got that whole ‘I like concerts a little too much’ vibe going for you. I dig it.”

The compliment made your face flush, looking down at your own merch, your cheeks naturally coming more red as you met Billie’s pale blue eyes. “Thanks. I, uh… I didn’t really have money to buy any new merch so, I got some of my old stuff,” you said, motioning to your outfit, her “Happier than ever” album image plastered on the black shirt and ripped jeans mixed with a few rings and your dangling star earrings. You’d hoped it looked casually stylish enough, but compared to the crowd around you, you felt like an awkward fish out of water.

“You look great,” Billie reassured you.

You tried to ignore the heat buzzing in your chest as she turned and ran away, probably having to get ready for the show, and you didn't mind, you were finally able to feel what it was like to be at a real, huge concert. As the lights dimmed the arena erupted with cheers as Billie popped up on stage, people were screaming in your ears the whole time but you didn't care, all you could do was watch Billie as she danced across the stage without a care in the damn world.

The show went on for a while before the song Billie had been featured on, starting playing- one of your favorites… Guess.

Billie jumped out onto the stage again, the song playing as she sang, everything felt absolutely perfect, the lights, the bass of the arena that made you feel your damn insides moving, everything.

Then? Billie looked straight at you, smiling slyly as she sung the best part of the song-

I wanna

Try it, bite it, lick it, spit it

pull it to the side and get all up in it

kiss it, bite it, can i fit it?

Charli likes boys but she knows I'd hit it.

god damn, you would've combusted right then and there when she added on that little

Charli call me if your with it 

mouthing your name instead of Charli’s when singing the line.

god damnit.

[lawstarsliet]

“ luffy boyfriend head canons !! ”

✦; luffy x gn! reader, fluff. purely self indulgent lol

[ part i | part ii | part iii ]

# sleep & cuddling

Luffy is the kind of person to love cuddling. Whether he’s the big spoon or the little spoon doesn’t matter to him as long as you’re both nice and cosy.

He tends to move a lot, yet somehow always ends up clinging onto one of your limbs.

There’s never a night where he isn’t all cosy up against you, all snores with the occasional sleep talk.

Sometimes you’d wake to bite marks all over after one of Luffy’s dreams of giant banquets.

Lose all hope of getting out of bed before he’s awake. It is not happening. He’ll have all his limbs stretched out and wrapped around you till the morning.

Or at least until the smell of breakfast wakes him.

# dates

Dates with Luffy almost always end in trouble.

Trying to have a picnic on the beach? Giant killer crabs and Sea Kings come crawling and wreck everything.

Date night at a small and cosy restaurant? The bounty hunters in town manage to find the two of you, chasing you out of town.

The only play safe is the Sunny. Sitting on the figure head is always enjoyable. When the ship is not under attack, at least.

Even with how chaotic things would get, by the time noght came the two of you would be wrapped up in each other’s arms, as peaceful as could be.

Luffy wouldn’t give up those times for the world.

# jealousy 

Luffy isn’t an inherently jealous person. He’s pretty easy going, and tends to laugh things off. If you get asked out by someone he doesn’t know he wouldn’t let it bother him, brushing it off.

“ I know you only like me, why would i worry?

If he knew them, however, it would likely be a slightly different story. Especially if they had went out of their way to ask you out.

He would grumble about it for hours, about how they could do that when they knew you were spoken for, and soul likely refuse to speak to them too.

He wouldn’t need much to move on from it, though, seeing as, at the end of the day, you’re all his.

Being jealous of people pursuing him, however, would be hell.

Romance isn’t something Luffy has ever been used to. Heck, getting together was a nightmare in on itself. But dating him was worth the trouble and more.

He couldn’t tell if someone was flirting with him if they had smacked him in the face with a love letter.

This was both a blessing and a curse.

On one hand, you had nothing to worry about. Anyone who bothered to ask him out would only end up

The more pushy suitors, however…

A well placed death glare or a little PDA worked well.

Thankfully, even though Luffy was one of the the best people ever, he didn’t get many since he’s the straw hat pirate’s captain.

[maul-of-shame]

Oh my god you’re out here acting like you’re some badass queen for having a horrible ship but you just sound like a middle aged bored mom who read a Colleen Hoover book and now makes it their entire personality because they’re bored. Also what’s with the big red letters? You don’t sound like a mean girl who’s making a point, you sound like a loser who’s in desperate need of a dose of reality.

Galadriel is like an older sister (or even a mother figure) to Elrond, which is why their relationship is so comforting. You trying to ruin that does make me upset cause I’m tired of people having no sense of media literacy. Not everything has to be shipped and definitely not something as dumb as this.

Also, fuck that stupid Sauron/Galadriel ship. It’s straight up people romanizing abuse and it’s disgusting. Canon!Galadriel would have never fallen for Hallbrand’s shit or Sauron’s charms and the way the Rings Of Power writers took a strong, mature female character and made her in to an immature schoolgirl (when she’s literally one of the oldest elves, older than Gil-Galad) is fucking stupid and actually misogynistic. I’m so tired of people taking strong female characters and watering them down to make them into a love interest for the villain or make her a cringy villain too. It’s dumb

So yeah, fuck Rings Of Power for destroying canon and destroying Galadriel’s character, fuck those Sauron/Galadriel shippers for being weird, and fuck you for taking a comforting, platonic relationship ship between two characters who have both been through a lot of shit and romanticizing it.

Also, fuck you for erasing Celebrian. I know you probably can’t comphrehend a female character being great without a sword in her hand so take that sword and shove it up your ass.

A word of advice, don’t touch the Lord Of The Rings when you clearly do not understand any of the characters, their relationships, or the meaning behind them. Just write your own book at this point with your own characters and leave the beautifully written stories of Tolkien alone.

Oh nooooooooo, did I offend you and your little Nazgûl toys? Did my horrifying act of (gasp) shipping two FICTIONAL characters make you sprint to the safety of the anonymous ask button, cloak fluttering dramatically behind you, so you could deliver this righteous tirade?🥺🥺🥺

Oh, how will I ever recover from being called a middle-aged Colleen Hoover mom by someone who’s clearly more pressed than the One Ring under Sauron’s hand? Truly, I’m shattered.🙄

Better a badass queen than some self-appointed Warden of the Fandom Wastes, skulking around like Gollum clutching your “precious” canon interpretations. Honestly, the only crown you’d ever wear is made of your own insecurities and bad takes, and even that sits crooked because it’s weighed down by all the irrelevant, unsolicited opinions you can’t stop flinging around. At least I’m out here enjoying myself—what’s your excuse?

You’ve got thoughts on the big red letters, do you? How utterly precious. Let me roll out the crimson carpet for you, since it seems they’ve left such a deep impression on your clearly delicate sensibilities. Here, let me give you more big red letters, because I wouldn’t want you to feel deprived of the melodramatic theater you seem so desperate for:

BIG. RED. LETTERS. JUST. FOR. YOU.!!!!

How’s that? Feeling better? Maybe this will soothe whatever irrational rage my formatting has triggered in that oh-so-fragile ego of yours. You’re acting like I personally painted the Eye of Sauron in your living room. Imagine being so pressed over font choices on the internet as well. It’s giving “I’m mad at PowerPoint for existing” energy, and frankly, it’s embarrassing.

You're embarassing yourself honey.

I wrote a reply, but I doubt you have the intelligence to understand it—or to hear it over the sound of your teeth grinding. Don’t worry, though! I hear Nazgûls get special dental benefits under Sauron’s health plan! Might want to book that appointment before the Mouth of Sauron starts mumbling your excuses for you!🦷🦷🦷

[TW: long salty rant]

First of all, if you’re so confident in your opinions, why are you skulking in my inbox as ANON, like Gollum trying to steal his precious back?

If you’re going to talk big about media literacy and "ruined characters," at least have the courage to do it without hiding behind the shadowy safety net of anonymity. You don’t sound like a defender of Tolkien’s legacy.

You sound like someone who got rejected by the Council of Elrond and has been bitter about it ever since.

Second, your entire rant reeks of irony. You complain about media literacy while writing paragraphs of projection, completely ignoring that this is fan content.

FAN. CONTENT.

You know, the space where people explore different interpretations and tell stories that resonate with them? Oh, but no! We must all bow to your singular, unyielding interpretation of Tolkien’s work, or else risk being smote upon the mountains of your judgment! Get over yourself. Seriously.

The best part? You’re mad about me "ruining" Galadriel and Elrond’s "comforting" dynamic by exploring a different take, but in the same breath, you’re tearing down Rings of Power Galadriel for being "immature" and "cringy." Sweetheart, pick a lane. You’re out here defending canon while also trashing it—what is this, the mental gymnastics World Championships? I have to say, your flexibility is impressive, careful of pulled muscles.

And so I have a sword up my what now?

Oh, my dear anonymous bard of bitterness, that’s quite the reach for someone who’s clearly got a scroll of the Silmarillion shoved so far up their ass that they probably recite Quenya conjugations in their sleep.

What’s next? Are you going to accuse me of erasing Melian because I didn’t write her into my Elrond and Galadriel fic either? Or maybe I’ll get yelled at for not including Bill the Pony in a Kingsman AU (he will be besties, don't worry)?

Let me make this very clear for you, Elvish Choir Master of Overreach, Herald of the Screeching Essay, Defender of the Lore That Nobody Asked You to Protect, Wielder of the All-Caps Argument, and Keeper of the Scroll That’s Shoved So Far Up Your Ass You Probably Quote “Ainulindalë” When Ordering Your Morning Coffee (truly, your titles grow longer than Treebeard’s introductions, yet none of them seem to include “Maker of a Valid Point.”!")-

Celebrian is not missing because I "don’t comprehend strong female characters without swords." She’s missing because, brace yourself, not every single piece of fanfiction has to feature every single character from Tolkien’s works.

Shocking, I know. Truly, I can hear the Valar themselves weeping at this revelation.

But here’s the thing: I’m not writing a Celebrian-centric fic. And you know what? That’s okay. You can unclench now.

Let’s really talk about your oh-so-bold suggestion to shove a sword somewhere for a sec. That’s your masterstroke? That’s the hill you’re dying on?

If we’re being honest, your insult is so dull it wouldn’t cut through soft butter on a sunny day, let alone make me flinch. Sting is officially handing in its resignation because it’s mortified to even share a sentence with you. You’re out here acting like you’ve got the sharpest blade in the Shire, but all I see is someone frantically flailing with a broken spoon.

And then there’s this laughable attempt at moral superiority. You’re swinging around words like you’re a defender of Middle-earth itself, valiantly protecting Tolkien’s legacy, when in reality, your argument is about as sturdy as a sandcastle at Helm’s Deep. You’re not a warrior—you’re the Mouth of Sauron after a bad day, spewing nonsense and hoping someone will think it’s profound. Newsflash: it’s not.

Let’s be clear: your little temper tantrum reeks of someone who just discovered the caps lock button, a bunch of adult words and decided to let it do all the heavy lifting.

I’ve seen hobbits throw better shade after three pints of ale.

You’re no mighty protector of canon—you’re just another basement-dwelling troll who thinks yelling loud enough will make people take you seriously.

And your sword suggestion? I’d recommend you point that creative energy inward, maybe use it to figure out how to construct an actual argument instead of regurgitating clichés you probably heard from your "leader" of choice in your private toxic fandom echo chamber. Don’t worry, though—I doubt you’ll hear any of this over the sound of your teeth grinding or the faint whistle of your Nazgûl screech echoing through your mom’s basement.

Maybe take a break, Denethor—chew on a tomato or two, cry into your cloak, and try again when you’ve leveled up from hobbit insult level: preschool.

Honestly, you’re not even mad about Celebrian being “erased.” You’re mad because I dared to write something that doesn’t align with your precious headcanons. And instead of just scrolling past, you decided to play Tolkienquisitor in my inbox, as if you’ve been personally tasked by Eru Ilúvatar to uphold canon.

I'm sorry (no) to break it to you but nobody crowned you King (or Queen) of Arda.

Not every single piece of fanfiction needs to involve every canon character just to meet your Tolkien purity test. If that’s a requirement, maybe you should write the fic. Oh wait....- you’re too busy spamming inboxes with this unhinged bullshit. My bad.

Here’s the thing, Bearer of Misplaced Rage: nobody asked for your unsolicited essay about the sanctity of Celebrian. But please, do continue climbing the Tower of Tolkien Purism like you’re on some holy quest. Maybe at the top, you’ll find the self-awareness you so desperately lack—or perhaps just a mirror to reflect your ridiculousness back at you.

You wanna talk about erasing characters? Fine.

Let’s talk about how you erased common decency, social awareness, and basic literacy by barging into my inbox with this drivel. The lorebros tirades and scroll-up-the-ass syndrome are bad enough, but now you’re out here flinging insults like “shove a sword up your ass” as if you just invented edgy. Sweetheart, that’s not edgy—that’s the kind of thing a D-list internet troll would type before running out of Wi-Fi.

So, let me leave you with this, oh Guardian of the Fanfic Gates: the next time you feel compelled to compose another Screed of the Self-Righteous, maybe take a moment to ask yourself, “Does this make me sound like a reasonable human being, or just a Balrog throwing a temper tantrum in a lava pit?” Because right now, I’d wager Smaug hoarding gold has more chill than you do.

And let’s not even start with your hilariously misplaced outrage about me shipping Elrond and Galadriel while we both apparently agree that Saurondriel is not our cup of tea. You’re yelling into the void about something I never even said or supported. Congratulations! You’ve officially argued against a strawman!

Here’s your Orcish participation trophy!

Thank you, Supreme Chancellor of Canon Policing, Overseer of the One True Interpretation, and Gatekeeper Extraordinaire of Tolkien’s Sacred Scrolls. I am truly humbled to be graced with your unsolicited advice, delivered with the self-importance of someone who thinks they’re the Mouth of Sauron but comes off more like Gollum arguing with his own reflection. Truly, I don’t know what I’d do without such pearls of wisdom.

But let me give you a word of advice, oh Lore Purist in Chief, President of the Fanfiction Police Union, and Guardian of the Shire’s Moral High Ground: I will touch Tolkien’s world, twist it, flip it like a pancake, and build something entirely new on top of it because guess what?

I’ve already done it.

And I’ll do it again.

And the best part? I don’t give a single, solitary fuck about your opinions, your outrage, or your sad little attempts to gatekeep Middle-earth like it’s your family heirloom.

You think your tired, sanctimonious “write your own book” line is a gotcha? Sweetheart, I already have. Several, in fact. And guess what? I’ll write more—more stories, more ships, more reinterpretations—and there’s nothing you can do but sit there in your self-proclaimed Chair of Canonical Superiority, furiously typing out essays that no one but you cares about. Go on, keep clutching your pearls and scribbling your fanfic hate manifestos, but let me promise you something: I’m not stopping. Ever.

It’s honestly adorable that you think your little decree will somehow shame me into putting my pen down. What next? You gonna summon the Valar to smite me for daring to reinterpret a fictional world?

Send an eagle my way, please—I’ll need it to carry all the fucks I don’t give about your opinion.

And let me be clear, Warden of Tolkien’s Spirit: your outrage is just fuel for my creative fire. Every time you whine, I just want to write more. So congrats, you’re officially my muse now, Pontiff of Perpetual Fan Rage!

You know what’s truly laughable? Your holier-than-thou act of pretending you’re the sole arbiter of what Tolkien “meant.” Tolkien’s works are complex, layered, and ripe for reinterpretation—that’s the beauty of storytelling. But no, you’ve decided you’re The Chosen One who understands it all, while the rest of us mere mortals stumble around in the dark.

Honey, if you’re the shining beacon of understanding, I’d rather take my chances in Moria without a light.

So, High Inquisitor of Gatekeeping™, continue shouting into the void, continue crying about my creative choices, and continue being mad about fanfiction. Meanwhile, I’ll be over here doing exactly what you hate: writing more, creating more, and caring less about your irrelevant opinions.

Go back to your dark little corner of Middle-earth, chewing on your bones—or was it cherry tomatoes this time?—and maybe weep dramatically about how "nobody understands your self-proclaimed brilliance". Honestly, your energy is giving less "Steward of Gondor" and more "Steward of Mom’s Basement."

Do you light a big, dramatic bonfire every time someone disagrees with you, or do you just sulk under the glow of your monitor, waiting for someone to tag your ship so you can descend like a Nazgûl in a hissy fit?

You’re out here acting like you’re defending Tolkien’s honor, but let’s be real—you’re just pressed that not everyone worships at the altar of your very specific, incredibly narrow, terminally boring interpretation of his works. It’s okay, really. We get it. You’ve been sitting there so long with that “scroll of canon” shoved up your ass that you’ve convinced yourself you’re a scholar.

Spoiler alert: you’re not. You’re just the guy crying into a bowl of instant noodles, mad that someone dared to take creative liberties with a fictional story.

To my knowledge, the Tolkien Estate is NOT sending you a paycheck to defend their lore. You’re not a martyr. You’re not a scholar. You’re not even the fun kind of fan who shares cool lore facts. You’re just the guy screaming, “That’s not canon!” into the void while the rest of us are out here enjoying our fandom like adults.

Here’s a thought: maybe instead of crying about other people’s ships, you could take that energy and, I don’t know, apply it to something useful. Learn Elvish. Build a model of Barad-dûr out of your tears. Or maybe, just maybe, stop weeping over cherry tomatoes and touch some grass. I hear the Shire has a lot of it.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have characters to write, ships to build, and a very long scroll of I don’t care to finish signing. Good day, Esteemed Minister of Misguided Rage.

Morning people! It's just above 8am but a Lorebro called (screamed)! XD

[breadandblankets]

duke is an excellent reader and a better writer, however he the things he remembers from books and movies are less direct quotes and more themes and messaging

if you ask him to name the characters from a book he just read he will just shrug at you, and he couldn't quote a line if he tried

he Will however use his powers to fuck with jason who Can quote things he's read by heart. jason an eighth of the way thru a college level lecture on the Lord of the Rings and PTSD and duke will interrupt him with: "How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand… there is no going back?"

jason will just stop in his tracks and LookTM (pride, exuberance) at duke, and duke will look blankly back, before jason realizes that duke just ghost visioned him and get soooo mad (he pouts dramatically for approximatly 0.5 seconds before duke asks a pointed question and the ramble continues)

[hostilemuppet]

also also i see a lot of people saying that "mouthwashing should be a movie!" and i cannot begin to explain to you how mouthwashing wouldnt work in any other medium

[majimassqueaktoy]

Ngl it's very funny to see fans getting into arguments and Discourse about these games and then I'll see them be like "I've never played/watched X Y or Z game" like how are you gonna get aggro about something you only know about through vague tweets??

[warlordfelwinter]

i wonder if fiver mentioned being azem to the ancients during his story. cause they never bring it up i don't think, although they do mention azem quite a lot. but fiver's well aware at this point of where his soul came from. entirely possible hyth, and emet if he's not still pretending not to believe it, would figure that part out on their own, given they could see how similar his soul was to azem's. like imagining hyth listening to the story about the world and people getting split into pieces and putting "exact same soul color" together with "why is he so easy to talk to" and Realizing

like at the very least if he'd taken out the convocation crystals it might have helped his case cause how do you explain him having those, emet

[inbabylontheywept]

bad dating stories time: the shoe incident

so in highschool, my best friend wasnt allowed to go on dates unless there was another couple there to keep an eye on him. part of this was his parents being insane, but also, part of it was him being insane. in a problem with no reasonable parties, there are no reasonable solutions.

at some point in my junior year, my sorta-gf broke up with me, and i just wasnt feeling dating, which was bad for my friend, because he had a good thing going with a girl he met in court.

he kind of hounded me about it. kept pushing me to just put me feet back in the dating pool and i wasnt real thrilled about it, because i knew he was pushing me for his own benefit, not mine, so i kept telling him to fuck off, and after a few weeks of being told that i would date when i was damn well ready, he eventually said: okay. what if i paid for the date AND found you a blind date AND all you had to do was show up?

and i shouldve said no, i know, but i let him wear me down, and i will own my fault in that. a date starting on such a stupid premise could never have gone well.

but he still managed to find a way to make it worse.

i dont know how long he tried to set a blind date up. it couldve been multiple attempts. he couldve stooped to this immediately. but what happened in the end was that he called a girl from the ward he attended - a girl that he knew had a giant, mushy crush on him - and he said: hey! how would you feel about going on a date this weekend?

(you know, implying it was with him, but never actually saying it.)

and she said YES WOW I WOULD LOVE TO and he said great! and then he called me up and said he found me a date.

i did not learn about his crimes until several weeks later. i will die swearing before god almighty that i would never have allowed this travesty to happen if i had known.

that was on a monday. the date of the date rolled around that friday evening, and im sorry to confess, i really phoned the whole thing in. i showed up in my favorite comfy outfit, which was also a fashion crime: basketball shorts and flipflops and a baja hoodie. it was super comfy but it made me look kind of crazy. i picked him up first, and then i picked up his date next, and then we went to pick up my date, and thats where you're gonna get the play by play.

i arrived, walked across the yard, and knocked on the front door. she opened it almost immediately, like shed been waiting right by it, and i could see her expression go from OMG IM SO EXCITED to super disappointed, then disgusted and finally pissed. and because i didn't know about my friends sins, i thought it was from my outfit. which seemed... harsh. like, hey, im allowed to be quirky, fuck you. also its a blind date, i thought the deal was that we were both going to be sad broken sacks of mortality.

anyway, we looked at each other for several seconds before she slammed the door in my face.

i looked back at my friend. he was sweating bullets. i dont know what he expected from this, but there was this big long pause where we both tried to figure out what to do, and then the door opened up, and her dad invited me in, and he said she was gonna need a few minutes to finish getting ready, and that in the meantime we could sit and talk.

we did not talk. we did sit. i sat down on the couch, and he sat down in a chair across the couch, and then instead of talking he cleaned his pistol on the coffee table. i wasnt actually sure if it was a threat, or if it was just a fidget thing for 40+ year old republican men, but when i tried to help he got snappy so i just watched him put a pistol back together.

he was okay at it.

eventually my date came downstairs, still mad as hell for reasons beyond my ken, and i felt pretty guilty for being such a mess because i thought that was why she was so angry. i tried to make up for by walking her to the car and getting the door for her, just generally trying to be extra polite, but before i could make it back to the drivers side, her dad called me back to the door. so i flipped around, went to the door, and immediately regreted my decision.

soon as i was within range, her dad got waaaay too close to me, leaned in, and said "whatever you do to her, i will do to you," and my brain went into overdrive making three consecutive realizations.

realization one was, damn, the pistol thing was a threat. that sucks. what an asshole. realization two was, wait, im autistic and even i know theres a 0% chance me and my date even hold hands, least of all boink. does this guy actually think there's even a 1% chance of anyone in that car getting laid tonight? is he an idiot? and then realization three went through, which was wait, is this guy threatening to fuck me? and unfortunately, with my brain doing so much processing, my mouth was left to run amok, so somewhere between realization 2 and 3, i said:

"i can't get pregnant"

which, i swear, wasn't actually me trying to be a smartass, it was just me pointing out that he couldn't actually follow up on that threat. it just wasn't possible. we do not live in the omegaverse and im not scared of you.

still, it was an insanely catastrophic thing to say, and the moment we both heard it, we bluescreened. that single sentence obliterated both of our momentary streams of consciousness like a saltine in front of a sand blaster. problem was, he'd probably gone his whole life not even realizing someone could say something that stupid, and making that realization was going to cost him a lot of thinking time. me though? i had been saying shit like that for 17 years, i didnt have to rewrite my expectations of human nature, i just had to plan an exit and start striding. so i was already halfway back to the car before i heard "hey. hey come back. Hey. Hey. HEY. HEY WAIT. HEY GET BACK HERE. HEY-"

and then i was in my car, and i drove away.

if this happened today, he'd have called her, and the whole thing wouldve imploded then and there, but back then, there were still a decent number of teenagers without cell phones. especially the teenagers of insane, gun toting parents. so she just said: whoa what was that all about? and i said: dont worry about it, he'll tell you about it when you get home.

and she said: ok and went back to staring daggers at me and my friend.

WHICH SURPRISINGLY isnt even how the story ends.

we went to an improv comedy show, and it was a disaster. it shouldve been like, 7/10 tops, but between my date being mad, and my friend having a good time, and me having the existential terror of knowing that a guy with a pistol was probably waiting outside his house for me to come back, it was easily 11/10. i laughed way too hard at everything. especially the jokes that flopped. id sit there in this mostly silent room and laugh until i dry heaved a little, and my date was absolutely disgusted, and even my friend was a little embarrassed, which would just make me laugh harder. i laughed so hard that night i could barely talk the next day. and then the show ended, and my friend said, you know, that was a good time, but i think we should maybe do something a little chiller? who wants to walk around the park? and his date said yeah, and my date said no, and i finally had mercy on the poor woman so i said, look, im gonna drop you off. and i am so, so sorry about this, but im dropping you off like a block away. super duper sorry.

do talk to your dad about the pistols thing if you dont want this happening more in the future tho.

and she said: okay. so i dropped her off, and she walked a block down, and that was that.

then i drove my friend and his date to a park that was good for wandering. i figured they wanted something more private, so instead of following them around point blank, i chose a park with this 30 foot rope tower, and i climbed to the top and i said: hey i can see you anywhere from up here, you are officially chaperoned from a distance. get panopticoned idiot. except my friend really is an idiot, and he didnt really get the whole 'now i dont have to third wheel so insanely hard with you guys' thing so he climbed up the tower too, and then his date followed behind him, so there are three people basically sitting together on top of a telephone pole.

and then they started making out.

i was close enough to hear it.

i didnt really know what to do so i was just kind of sitting there, dissociating, when some college kids came around and started shaking the tower. my friend's date went aaaaaaaaaa im afraid of heights :( and my friend went oh, dont worry, ill hold you tight ;) and i went hey, im gonna climb down and ask them to stop.

so i did climb down, and i did ask them to stop, and they flipped me off, which i wasnt even mad about. at that point i was i was like yeah, it would be weirder if this wasnt a mess. gods plan has been to fly this day like a 747 into my metaphorical twin towers and brother he is close enough for me to see him grinning through the cockpit window. still, eventually the college students got bored, so they climbed up the tower, which gave my friend and his date a window to climb down, and together we walked back to my car.

now, i cant explain why this is, but sitting back in the drivers seat was my carriage-back-into-a-pumpkin moment. i'd been chill about all the chaos, just rolling with the punches, but sitting down made me realize how much of a shitshow the day had been, and while i couldnt go back and fix all of it, i could go back and fix one thing.

so i told my friend and his date, hey, you two, stay here and don't do anything weird. don't. then i walked back to the rope tower, and i started picking up the shoes the college students had left at the base in order to climb.

about halfway through this, i realized that if i took all their shoes, they might think i was in it for the money, and i actually wanted them to know i was in it specifically to spite them. fuck those guys. so i put all the right shoes back, gave myself a 100 foot headstart, yelled "nice shoes, assholes", did a little jig, and started running.

my advice to everyone is that college students are faster than you think. even with the headstart, and the whole climb down the tower thing, i was still only fivish seconds ahead of them by the time i got to my car. i flung the door open, looked in the backseat, didnt see anyone, flung the stolen shoes in the backseat, heard two "ow"s, took that as proof of presence, jumped in and pealed out of the lot.

my friend and his date popped up a few seconds later. they were, uh, doing something weird in the back seat. my one request - obliterated.

they climbed up to ask where the hell all the shoes had come from, and i was like yeah i stole them from the college students, and they were like oh. cool. hope you had fun. and i was like, i did. i did. but speaking of fun, what were you doing back there?

and for the first time in my buddies life, i think he was actually embarassed.

[seafoam-taide]

I love love love my dear Entropy I think about her all the time I love her <33 I have to write about her she is always in my thoughts. Don't click these tags open unless you really want to read them there is . There's lots. THERE WERE TOO MANY IT KILLED SOME OF THEM. WHY DIDN'T IT TELL ME TAG LIMIT I KEPT TYPUNG !!! That's so sad and I can't even put the rest that I typed up here bc I forgot it already because my brain fucking sucks. Whatever whatever whatever rahggg beams Entropy thoughts directly into your brain you know exactly what I mean now

[kurooh]

HORNY BRAINROT.

☆ includes: aged up! various characters from bnha

☆ warnings: 18+ content, reader is gn or fem depending on the scenario, drug use (weed & alcohol), somnophilia (consent given prior!!), nsfw. not proofread

thinking of izuku coming back home after a long day at the agency; he bends you over the kitchen table you were both about to eat on, and he skips dinner and goes in for dessert between your thighs.

sucking on eijirou’s cock desperately while he pushes your head down and tells you to take it. when he gets close, he yanks your head off him and you switch to jerking him off, your eyes closing as his cum sprays on your face. he groans loudly when you sweep your fingers across your wet skin and then suck on them, looking up at him innocently.

always a lover of public sex, dabi fucks you in alleyways, on rooftops, behind cars at night, and all across the city. he especially enjoys taking you from behind, your back pressed against his chest and his hand wrapped around your throat — he often fucks you like this in sight of the sky during the #2 hero’s patrols.

sometimes hitoshi can’t sleep, so he gently pulls the blankets away from your sleeping figure, admiring you in the dark. he’ll kiss your tummy, hips, and pelvis, then peel away your underwear, his tongue rushing to taste the sweetness between your folds. when you cum, you moan as though you’re in a dream, rarely waking up — occasionally he’ll make you cum so hard you wake up gasping his name.

keigo finds himself feeling overwhelmed when you ride him, his eyes rolling back and his entire body shaking each time he sees your greedy pussy swallow the whole length of his cock. as he unravels more and more, his wings represent how he feels with their wild movements. when he cums loudly, his wings rush in, wrapping around the both of you, pulling you close to him.

despite his shy demeanor, tamaki is a FREAK. he’ll have you sit in a chair, blindfolded, limbs tied to the back and the legs. then, he’ll tease you with kisses and touches, lightly slapping your thighs if you try to pull free to touch him. after a long while, he’ll spread your pussy open and spit onto your clit, then tease you further.

speaking of spitting, katsuki enjoys spitting into your pussy as well, or making you spit onto his cock to lube it up for sex or jerking him off.

i offer u: denki + hanta tag team. hanta’s on his back, your back is on his chest, his cock is stretching out your ass. while he’s thrusting up into your ass and holding you close, denki’s fucking in and out of your pussy with his overstimulated cock. his cum drips from your cunt and trickles down hanta’s cock, adding more lubrication. a threesome with these two would be insane because they would try out every position and cum once from it before stopping.

despite hating it when you edge him, shoto loves it. he’ll sigh shakily, hissing out, “ah— god, make me cum already, stop fucking with me!” but when you let him get real close, he begs you to stop and edge him. it’s confusing but ultimately he enjoys it, and always cries when he cums after edging.

drinking with katsuki always gets rowdy; he’ll show you off, get jealous more easily, and fuck you harder. after a night at the bar and way too many shots, he hops into an uber with you and heads to an expensive hotel instead of your home. katsuki books a big room, the one with the best view of the city and streets (it’s also 2-4 stories up from the lobby). when you get into the room, he practically rips your clothes off, pushing you against the big window overseeing the people and cars beneath. then, he fucks you right against the window, your tits pressed against the glass.

dry humping with eijirou in his agency office with an unlocked door, his hard cock rubbing against your pussy through layers and layers of clothing. when his precum is dripping through his underwear, and your panties are soaked with your slick, he removes whatever’s in the way, besides your underwear. when you start to get loud as his clothed cock creates more friction against you, he pulls off your wet underwear and stuffs them into your mouth, saying, “shh, baby. you have to be quiet, okay? don’t want any of the staff coming in, right?”

sharing a joint with keigo on the balcony of your shared apartment, plumes of smoke swirling around you as he spreads your legs. he always enjoys making out with your pussy before he eats you out, taking your folds and clit between his lips as he drags his tongue against you. he stares up at you with reddened eyes, desperate for your approving moans and facial expressions.

being fucked doggy style by izuku, either in your pussy or ass, as he praises you and your beautiful reflection in the mirror. “oh, you’re so gorgeous.. make me feel so damn lucky every time i look at you.” if you refuse to look, he leans over you, his pecs pressing into your upper back as he tugs your chin. he demands, “watch yourself cum” or “if you look away, i’ll stop pounding you”

shoto always cums within a few minutes of 69ing with you.. the way you desperately hump at his face and gobble down his cock always proves to be too damn much for him. he used to feel embarrassed, but now he just pushes through the overstimulation and adjusts you how he likes, slurping at your pussy loudly as you moan on his cock.

sexting with denki during his work hours, and sending him sneaky photos of your tits/ass/pussy when you know he’s busy. he’s always so quick to read your messages, and he rushes to the bathroom to hide his boner in a stall. he texts you to tell you what he’s gonna do to you, how desperate he is, or he’ll send mirror selfies, his hard cock visible through his pants.

phone sex with dabi, who easily makes you torture yourself. and god, does he sound good — he tells you what to do, rewarding you with his moans/groans or pictures. he’ll talk you through your orgasm, demanding that you keep fingering yourself or stop to ruin it. if you sob over his instructions, he’ll briefly reassure you, and then tell you to shut up and do what he says (he reminds you to be a good girl/slut or threatens to not fuck you).

god.. hitoshi loves filming you going dumb on his cock. most of the videos in his ‘us vids’ folder start off with him praising you as he moves the camera around your body, capturing every inch of you. “so pretty, god damn.” as the video progresses from gentle to rougher, his hand is wrapped around your neck, squeezing enough for you to gasp often. you’re a mess, babbling pleas as you cry his name, eyes rolling back and drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. by the time he’s cumming, you’re begging for him to fill you up, not a single other thought in your head. later, still filming, he thumbs away the saliva at the corner of your mouth; he kisses you and asks if you’re okay.

food play with tamaki, who eagerly gobbles strawberries off your tits, or the whipped cream designs all over your pelvis. even after your skin is free from all the sweetness or its residue, he licks you hungrily, then starts to bite hickeys into your skin. he blushes when you pinch one of his sensitive ears between your fingers and give it a tug — “tamaki, put your tongue to good use and eat me out.”

[friendshiptothemax]

I was on a plane this weekend, and I was chatting with the woman sitting next to me about an upcoming writer’s strike. “Do you really think you’re mistreated?” she asked me.

That’s not the issue at stake here. Let me tell you a little something about “minirooms.”

Minirooms are a way of television writing that is becoming more common. Basically, the studio will hire a small group of writers, 3-6 or so, and employ them for just a few weeks. In those few weeks (six weeks seem to be common), they have to hurriedly figure out as much about the show as they can -- characters, plots, outlines for episodes. Then at the end of the six weeks, all the writers are fired except for the showrunner, who has to write the entire series themselves based on the outlines.

This is not a widespread practice, but it has become more common over the past couple of years. Studios like it because instead of paying for a full room for the full length of the show, they just pay a handful of writers for a fraction of the show. It’s not a huge problem now, but the WGA only gets the chance to make rules every three years -- if we let this go for another three years and it becomes the norm? That would be DEVASTATING for the tv writing profession.

Do I feel like I’m mistreated? No. I LOVE my job! But in a world of minirooms, there is no place for someone like me -- a mid-level writer who makes a decent living working on someone else’s show (I’d like to be a showrunner someday, but for now I feel like I still have a lot to learn, and my husband and I are trying to start a family so I like not being support rather than the leader for now). In a miniroom, there are only two levels -- the handful of glorified idea people who are already scrambling to find their next show because you can’t make a decent living off of one six-week job (and since there are fewer people per room, there are fewer jobs overall, even at the six-week amount), and the overworked, stressed as fuck showrunner who is going to have to write the entire thing themselves. Besides being bad for me making a living, I also just think it’s plain bad for television as an art form -- what I like about TV is how adaptable it is, how a whole group of people come together to tell a story better than what any of them could do on their own. Plus the showrunner can’t do their best work under all of that pressure, episode after episode, back to back. Minirooms just...fucking suck.

The WGA is proposing two things to fix this -- a rule that writers have to be employed for the entire show, and a rule tying the number of writers in the room to the number of episodes you have per season. I don’t think it’s unreasonable. It’s the way shows have run since the advent of television. It’s only in the last couple of years that this has become a new thing. It’s exploitative. It squeezes out everyone except showrunners and people who have the financial means to work only a few months a year. It makes television worse. And that is the issue in this strike that means everything to me, and that is why I voted yes on the strike authorization vote.