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dunmeshichilchuck · 3 months

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For That One Guy On Tumblr

Chilchuck x !fem ! halffoot Reader

So this starts off during the sauna episode. I'm changing it a bit to where that floor has been that cold since the dungeon was created. There will probably be more installments but right now it's just setting things up. Anyway, enjoy.

The last thing you remembered was cold, leeching into your bones. Cold, and the certainty that this would be the last thing you'd ever feel. Your party had left you to die rather than try to heal your wounds, and this floor was too deep for someone else to come along and take pity on you before your body rotted. You were going to become a ghost, haunting this dungeon without ever being able to leave.

And then you opened your eyes again, and you were all too warm.

You took a few shuddering breaths, coughing and gasping. Your lungs burned like they were on fire and your whole body ached. You curled up into yourself, shivering. And then you became aware of what was going on around you. And also that for some reason everyone was wrapped in towels instead of normal clothing.

"YOU MEAN YOU HAD NORMAL RESURRECTION MAGIC THAT COULD DO SHIT LIKE THIS THIS WHOLE TIME???!!! ARE YOU STUPID? WE COULD HAVE AVOIDED THIS WHOLE THING!"

Another....halffoot? Shouted.

"I already EXPLAINED why I couldn't have used normal magic!!" A blond elf woman shouted back in an exasperated high pitched squeal. "It wouldn't have worked! The thread between body and soul was too tenuous! And we'd never have been able to get enough regular meat down there! Anyway I don't understand why you're so against it, I didn't see you arguing against it at the time!"

A blond tall man, blindfolded? For some reason? Interjected. "Marcille is right! Even though the body was in a not so great condition the ice kept it from rotting so all the component parts were still there! We just got lucky that we were able to gather them all together! Once the body thawed resurrecting it was a simple matter! There was no need for special magic like with Falin."

They continued to argue violently while your recently unfrozen brain attempted to make sense of the situation.

Had the half foot somehow had enough pull in the party he'd been able to convince them that they should revive you? You weren't much use on this floor and presumably deeper ones where small traps gave way to larger monsters, so you couldn't work out any reason they had for reviving you. You looked around the small, actually extremely hot room you were in. It was...a sauna? Was it really a sauna? What the fuck?

You smelled something delicious and you looked around to see a dwarf with long black hair and a massive bushy black beard peacefully tending to meat cooking over what looked very much like a wok. What the fuck? They were a high enough level party to have fresh meat down here? That would explain why they'd been able to spare the revival for you.

There was also what looked like a beast girl crouched next to him, watching the squabbling party members with a bored expression on her face. Well. That was just another one of the things to file away and deal with later.

Almost instinctively you staggered to your feet and crouched down by the dwarf to watch him cook. Your stomach grumbled insistently. Even in normal circumstances getting revived made you ravenous. Now you felt dizzy with hunger.

"Ah, hello there!" The dwarf looked up at you and beamed. "Always nice to have new folk eat with us! You must be hungry after getting revived, food should be ready in just a few minutes."

He continued cooking, humming softly to himself.

"Would you...like some help?" You managed to rasp out. Throat hoarse with disuse.

At this point it seemed like the other people there remembered your existence.

"Ah! So sorry, you're awake!" The elf said. "You were out for a long time, I didn't know if the magic would fully take with how long you'd been in the ice."

"How...how long?" You said, almost dreading the answer.

"At least a couple of years, based on the state of your organs and bones" the blindfolded tall man said enthusiastically. "You were lucky! The extreme cold preserved you extremely well and there aren't any monsters down here that would go to the trouble of digging you out of the ice."

You blinked at him.

"How did you get all the way down here?" The elf asked. "Was your party wiped out? We looked but we couldn't find anyone else."

"I'll bet they left her behind." The halffoot interjected dourly. "She probably got injured and they didn't want to waste time resurrecting her or bringing her along."

"what!" The elf gasped. "that's terrible, no one would do that! Why would you even think of that Chilchuck??"

"Like I keep telling you guys, halffoots are treated as expendable! It'd be totally within the realm of possibility! Especially since she didn't sign on with the union or we woulda recorded when her party came back without her or she just never came back at all!" He frowned. "That's why I started the damn thing in the first place but if not everyone uses it it's not fucking good to anyone."

he (chilchuck?) turned abruptly to you. "Anyway, why didn't you use the union? We would have been able to look out for you so this didn't happen."

You stared at him in utter confusion. "....union?"

#dunmeshi #chilchuck #chilchuk tims #chilchuk dungeon meshi #chilchuck x reader

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ratlikeclown · 1 month

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WIP Wolverine x femReader 18+

“God, do you ever suck on anything other than Wade’s dick and cheap cigars?”

He leaned in close to your ear and growled,

“Ya lookin to find out Princess?”

x Deadpool kinda eventually lmfaoooo

FemY/n is mid 20’s - early 30’s

Tw for depression and like drug use mentions ig

🌶️🫵

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Hello 👋 This is the first fanfic that I have written in over 10 years the brain rot is so unbelievably real for wolverine and deadpool rn

its a little embarrassing tbh lmfaoo

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I’m not really sure how to tag this tbh. I’ve never posted on tumblr. . It’s a little spicy and will get more interesting later. I just wanted to toss this small part out for readers to test the waters. Anyway um I’m not experienced writing y/n pov so please be nice.

Your friend, Wade Wilson, couldn’t take no for an answer. You knew that and yet you still had the audacity to tell him ‘no’ three times tonight. And about thirty minutes after you ignored his last phone call there he was, practically knocking down your door. It wasn’t like he couldn’t actually kick in your door, he was just being polite.

The apartment buzzer went off. You sat up from your position on the couch, hoping he’d just give up and leave if you didn’t acknowledge him. Like a stray cat. Or a crackhead.

“Knock knock~” you heard his voice through the door. “I smell Hot Pockets and sadness I know you’re in there”

Gripping the arm of the sofa you waited hoping he’d have the common courtesy fuck off .You heard the door knob rattle. Dumbass.

With a click of the lock, your door swung open revealing Wade, grinning as he shoved his Baby Knife back into his coat.

“Wade, what the fuck? I told you-“

He clapped his hands loudly, interrupting you.

“Let’s go Funshine Bear, the nights young and I’m not going anywhere without you” Wade marched past you, straight to your bedroom humming to himself.

“You look awful by the way, we’ll fix you up though.” He clicked his tongue and crooked a finger in your direction. You huffed angrily, sliding off the couch to follow him.

You stopped in the doorway, almost refusing to step inside. He was elbows deep in your closet drawers, throwing clothes onto your bed, muttering his disapproval at every item he tossed.

You crossed your arms as you watched him.

“Do you have anything that doesn’t look like you took it from the Walmart dumpster?” He pulled a drawer out from the dresser and dumped it on the floor. “You know the one I’m talking about, right? Where all the coke addicted bronies go to have a bone sess before band practice.”

You crossed your arms as you watched him. “Wade, I’m not in the mood to go out.”

You heard him sigh, but continued to riffle through your things.

“That’s nonsense, the plot can’t continue with out you. Annnd we made these plans last week.”

He peeked at you from behind the open closet door. “I’m a little worried about you. You aren’t your chipper self lately”

“I’m just tired” You replied dismissively.

It wasn’t like Wade hasn’t been trying to cheer you up in his own way. For the last few weeks he’d text you obscure and quite frankly disturbing memes at 3 AM. Excitedly offer you drugs that he’s pilfered from the his blind roommate- (he knows you don’t do drugs, he just wanted to brag about stealing coke from Blind Al)

He’s also been sending you the strangest X-Men fan fiction. (His favorites were ‘old man yaoi’ including Professor Xavier and Magneto) Usually you eat that kind of stuff up, finding it funny that you knew some of the people that the fanfiction was written about, like a private joke between you and Deadpool. But worst thing he’s done has beencalling you almost every day and attempting to make plans with you, but you always seem to cancel last minute. So yeah, he has been trying. It just.. didn’t help.

Your eyes flickered to your wall of photos next to the closet door. Pictures of your closest friends and family. Their arms around you laughing, smiling. Pictures of trips and silly outings that meant the world to you. You felt so much guilt and regret looking at them.

Depression was a bitch. It was like a rabid dog that wouldn’t let you get back on your feet. You felt it gnawing at you, causing you to lose interest in everyone and everything. You felt alone. Your eyes fell back to Wade, you watched your friend hard at work trying to match your shoes with a dress he had found. He was clueless. You couldn’t tell him any of this though, it would just make him worry more.

There was someone you did want to talk to though. To tell everything to. Someone that you had grown so close to the last few months.

You missed Logan.

This realization caused your face to heat and anxiety weld up in your chest. You balled your hands into fits thinking about that arrogant jerk. You’ve tried to be a friend to Wolverine. After all this wasn’t his reality. He was your timeline’s replacement. (Idk you should go watch the movie. I’m not explaining it.) and for a while, you thought you were friends.

Lately, if he wasn’t drunk and depressingly moody, he was angry and a massive dick.

“Y/N? Look a little pink at the cheeks are you feeling OK?” Wade was now standing less than a foot from you, his brows furrowed. You hadn’t noticed him move.

Snapping back from your thoughts by Wades voice, you ran hands over your face as you turn towards the attached bathroom.

“Dude, I told you I’m just not feeling good-” You stepped into the bathroom and turned on the faucet “I don’t wanna hang out with-“

“Logan?”

“Your friends.” You finished. You felt your face flush deeper at his name being mentioned.

“That’s what I said” Wade followed you to the bathroom, but thankfully didn’t come in. He stood outside while you closed the door.

“Trust me honey, I know he’s the embodiment of a sentient happiness starved cactus whose father never loved him but-“

You groaned, trying to avoid Wades ramblings you turned the water on full blast, drowning out the remainder of his sentence. You splashed water on your face and ran a comb through your hair. You heard Wade continue talking, almost to himself while also sounding like he was talking to someone else in the room as well. Someone you couldn’t see. He did that often. It was creepy.

You swung the door open frowning.

“-sometimes he stabs me through the face to shut me up, but I know he does it because he’s not good with words.”

Wade smile faded when he saw your face.

“It’s kinda hot”

“I don’t want to talk about it Wade.” You sat down onto your bed with a huff despite the pile of clothes and plastic hangers. You stared at your hands. You felt the overwhelming weight of your anxiety in your chest and stomach. Maybe you should go out. Maybe he won’t show up tonight. Maybe-

“You look like you wanna talk about it Friendo.”

Wade joined you by dramatically pushing all the clothes off the bed, making an even bigger mess of your room. He flopped down onto your bed stomach first, propping himself up by his elbows. He kicked his feet and smiled at you.

“I’m all ears.”

“I don’t know how to start” You admitted.

“Start with an ‘I feel’ statement”

Another sigh escaped your mouth. How did you feel? It felt complicated. You met him a few months ago. At first he was rude and closed off. Then he slowly began to open up, sure you still bickered and fought like cats, but it had playful undertones. (‘Sexy undertones’ Wade had joked) When he was being genuine and open, it felt like you could talk to him for hours. Though he never spoke for too long, he would to listen to you earnestly. Up until a few weeks ago, that is.

“I feel like Logan hates me. I feel like he would rather huff paint thinner than have a decent conversation with me.”

Wade laughed. “Well that’s not true, I can’t get him to huff anything.”

You shot him a look.

“Listen, I invite Mr. Grumpy out every time. But he’s too busy sulking to get fucked up with us. He would rather get drunk and pass out in the floor of the apartment. He probably won’t even show up.” Wade gave you a reassuring look.

“If he does you’re gonna be there with me. We’ll leave if you feel uncomfortable at all.”

He rolled over and sat up, putting an arm around you.

“I’ve just noticed your mood lately I need you to know that I love you.” He gave your shoulder a squeeze. “-and I miss getting fucked up with you.”

“Will you stab him for me if he’s mean?”

“Of course. I always have Baby Knife on me.”

“Fine. Let me get ready”

He jumped off the bed excitedly.

You pushed Wade out the door to get dressed, pausing in the doorway. “Wade?”

“Yes Friendo?” He turned on his heel

“I love you too bud”

He squealed as you closed the door.

~~~

You never understood why Wade wouldn’t just buy a car. He makes decent money (he doesn’t) and could probably afford a nice one. (He couldn’t) At one point you recall him having a weird hyperfixation with the Honda Odyssey (he fucked Wolverine in one) (allegedly)

Instead, you were climbing into the back of a dirty beat up taxi cab that his friend, Dopinder, drove for a living. At least you didn’t have to walk. Dopinder was a sweet guy, if not a little unhinged every once in a while.

“You look quite beautiful tonight Miss Y/N” He complimented you as you settled in the back seat. You smiled at him, appreciating the comment. Wade had picked out your dress and you felt a little exposed and out of your element in it. It wasn’t anything crazy, just a slick black dress with a low neck line. The dress was short, ending a little above the knee. The problem was the slit up the side. You wanted to wear tights under the outfit but Wade insisted on fishnets. ‘You look like a goth baddie’ he had assured you, ‘Like a Hot Topic clearance rack version of Morticia Addams.’

Wade hopped in the front and immediately started to flip through the radio channels. Dopinder usually had on pleasant sounding Indian pop music but Wade settled on some heavily censored 90’s hip hop.

The drive was rocky. Wade, who almost never kept his hands to himself, would grab poor Dopinder while dancing along to the music causing the cab to swerve. A lot.

Having made it to the bar in one piece, you quickly scrambled out of the back, thanking the young man for the ride.

Wade waited for you at the door.

~~~

The bar was loud and dark. One of those typical bars you see in movies, filled with moving bodies and cigarette smoke. Music pumped through the speakers with some people lingering near the bar while others swayed on the dance floor. Wade bounced through the crowd pulling you along towards the bar, where his group of friends took up half the bar area. You scanned the crowd nervously. No Logan. Your muscles relaxed, and you moved with a little more energy.

Wade greeted his friends with various enthusiastic greetings and crude gestures. You smiled in greeting and waved at a friend you recognized but sat down on a stool next to where Wade stood, him blocking you from most of the other bar patrons. There was a part of you that was a little disappointed that Logan wasn’t here. It made sense if he didn’t show up here, this bar was honestly more like a club, upbeat and energetic. He’s used to dark depressing dive bars, places you can drink yourself into a coma and not be bothered. But the few times he had shown up here you had thought that he enjoyed your company, for a little while at least. During times when the others were off doing dubious shit somewhere, he’d sit with you at the bar. You even managed to get him to dance with you once. That all changed recently. Something happened that caused him to be distant and often rude for seemingly no reason.

Everyone seems to be so happy to see Wade and he, them. You didn’t really know why you were here. It already felt overwhelming. You used to love coming here. Drinking and dancing, playing pool badly and belting out shitty country music karaoke with everyone. Lately, things have felt different. You’ve lost interest in a lot of the things you use to enjoy, spending your days just working and rotting in your apartment. This was too much.

Wade touched your shoulder causing you to jump.

“Hey we’re off to play some darts you in?”

You smiled at your friend. “You really wouldn’t want me to play, you’d end up as the dart board.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time Sweetheart” Wade laughed, “we’ll be over there if you change your mind.” He made a heart with his hands and turned toward the group already making their way to the play area.

You sat quietly at the counter with a glass of something sweet and strong. You wanted to feel a buzz but you needed it to taste good. Your eyes scanned the crowd, people watching. You watched people dance and sway to the newest Kesha song blaring through the speakers. You witnessed a near fight over a pool game. You heard Wade’s laughter from across the room, his friends echoing along. You felt alone. It was your fault you told yourself. If you wanted to feel better you would’ve gotten up and joined your friends. But here you sat, being miserable on purpose.

“Hey beautiful, mind if I joined you?” Your head snapped up meeting the face of someone you didn’t recognize. He was good looking, in a vanilla frat boy kinda way. With his backwards hat, sleeveless tank, skinny jeans and all.

But he smiled like a wolf.

“I’m sorry.” You tried to smile politely, but you had a twinge of anxiety growing in your chest. “I’m not really in the mood for company”

The man smiled motioning to the bartender for a drink. “Can’t I just buy you a drink? “

“Really, I’m fine” You turned back to your drink, your eyes unfocused, hoping that if you just ignored him he’d leave. Your gut flipped when you heard him pull out the stool next to you. He wasn’t leaving.

“Come on babe, I can show you a good time”

“She said she ain’t looking for company bub.” A low voice growled behind you. A beer bottle came down heavily in between you and the creep. Your eyes trailed the hairy but beautifully sculpted arm to its owner, though you already knew who it belonged to. Logan. Even in this lighting you could see his rugged face. His hair was styled in its iconic cat ear shape. His beard was trimmed nicely combined with his thick muttonchops. His eyes were a little hazy but beautiful and dark. You met those eyes for a brief moment, he smirked at you before his gaze flickered to the other man.

“Well?” He rumbled, barring his teeth.

“Naw, I was here first grandpa, you fuck off.” The frat guy stood up straight, trying to look intimidating.

“Trust me” Logan chuckled. He straightened cracking his knuckles before raising his fists and extending three razor sharp Adamantium claws from each hand.

“You don’t want none of this”

~~~

“You didn’t have to do that” you looked down at your glass avoiding Logan’s gaze. You heard him land heavily in the bar stool next to you. He tapped the counter signaling the bartender who was very clearly avoiding your side of the bar.

“I wasn’t going to have some limp dick creeping on you.”

“I was handling it”

“You didn’t seem like you were handling anything Princess.” He scoffed.

You shot him a look. He smirked as he chugged his remaining beer, you couldn’t help watch his throat bob as he drank. He finished and loudly set the bottle down. He met your eyes and you looked away feeling your face heat violently.

“You thirsty princess?” He asked as the bartender set down two shots of something before scurrying away. He slid one glass your way.

“No thank you. I have my own drink”

You pushed the glass back his way. He eyed your almost empty cocktail and shrugged.

“Suit yourself” he took the glasses and knocked back both shots simultaneously slamming the glasses back down. After a few moments of silence, where you clearly felt Logan eyeing you the entire time, you sighed.

“I didn’t think I’d see you tonight Logan.” You admitted. Another beer had appeared in front of him, he took a swig. He eyed you, his eyes slowly trailing from your face down your body. They rested at the slit in your dress, exposing most of your fishnet covered thigh. You felt a ping in your lower belly, causing you to cross your legs uncomfortably. His eyes followed to movement. He licked his lips and met your eyes again smirking.

“Why didja miss me?”

You looked down at the growing piles of shredded napkins you had been anxiously ripping apart.

“Yes” you said at last. There was no point in lying. You did miss him. Even seeing him now, clearly drinking away his problems, you couldn’t help but feel glad he was there with you. You were glad he scared away that creep, despite his now passive aggressive demeanor. You met his eyes again.

He snorted and tipped the beer to his lips.“You’re a fucking liar”

You felt your gut squeeze with anger. Why was he treating you this way? You didn’t ask him to step in to a play hero. You didn’t ask him for anything. You just wanted to get out of your shitty apartment for one goddamn night. You balled your fists and spun to face him fully.

“What. The. Fuck.” You clenched your teeth annunciating each word bitterly. “Is. YOUR PROBLEM”

“My PROBLEM,” he practically spat the word,

”is that I have to deal with your moody ass attracting the eye of every fucking creep in this place when you very fucking clearly don’t want to be here.”

You threw your hands up angrily and gestured around the bar.

“I didn’t want to deal with any of this Logan. I just wanted to go out with my FRIENDS, which I used to think you were one. I don’t fucking know what prick you had up your ass lately, but you sure as hell don’t act like you like me. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?”

He was silent for a moment, studying your face, making it turn even redder. Then he laughed. He shook his head laughing and sloppily chugged his second beer.

You had enough. You needed to get away from him. You shoved yourself back, tipping the stool over in the process.

“Come find me when you figure out what you want.” You turned to leave. You made it a few steps before you heard Logan’s voice call mockingly.

“Nice dress by the way”

You didn’t turn to look at him.

“Fuck you, Logan”

~~~

You ran your hands under cold water, leaning over the sink you splashed the water into your face and sighed. You looked into your mirrored face. This was a disaster.

Maybe if you just stayed in the bathroom you can avoid everyone until Wade was ready to leave. You felt bad that you ran off instead of finding him. You would’ve felt safe with Wade.

Your head was swimming, from the alcohol or the interaction with Logan you couldn’t tell.

The speaker above you crackled playing the opening notes to ‘Dirty Diana’, a favorite of yours. A banger Wade would say.

Without warning the door sung open and Logan stumbled in.

“You’re in the wrong bathroom you drunk asshole” you snapped. His eyes met yours from a brief moment before he swayed slightly and took a step forward.

He pushed past you wordlessly and began kicking open the bathroom stalls. They were all empty.

“Dude get out” You gripped the sink behind you, watching Logan warily. You knew deep down he wouldn’t hurt you but you obviously didn’t want him in here with you. He turned to you, taking a step forward.

”I needed to talk to you”

“Yeah, you could have waited til I got out of the ladies room??”

“No.” he growled before in one swift movement he was in front of you, his arms on either side of the sink trapping you between them. Your breath came out in a shudder and your knees wobbled. This honestly was a thing out of a fantasy, something that you were embarrassed to admit you’ve thought about. You had been fighting your feelings for this big stupid man, stuck between thoughts of friendship and lust. God, he wasn’t helping with the latter.

“Logan”

“I’m sorry” he said looking as remorseful as he could under the circumstances.

“What did you need to talk about that couldn’t wait Lo?” You swallowed, gently lifting your hand and placing it on his chest, pushing lightly. His hands moved to your legs keeping you from pushing him further.

“Ya told me to find you when I figured out what I wanted”

“Yeah” You scoffed. “Enlighten me”

~~~

“I want you”

Logan leaned over you, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips. His fingers dug in lightly, the movement making your legs feel like jelly. You gripped his shoulders to steady yourself. He was so firm and warm under your hands.

His face was inches from yours, his expression unreadable in the low lighting. You smelled the smoke and alcohol on his breath.

“God, do you ever suck on anything other than Wade’s dick and cheap cigars?”

He leaned in close to your ear and growled,

“Ya looking to find out princess?”

You felt a ping of desire sink into your lower belly as his hand moved from your waist.

Shivers went down your spine as his hands slid up your torso coming to a stop right below your breasts. One of his thumbs brushed upwards lightly, teasingly.

You sucked in a breath as he lowered his face to your neck and brushed a kiss to the sensitive skin. His facial hair tickling your jaw.

“Logan, you’re drunk.” You croaked out, pulling away slightly, your hands sliding from his shoulders. He moved with you.

You felt his lips brush your skin again, another kiss, before his thumb slid upward against your breast. Fuck. The wet heat between your legs was unbearable. You needed some sort of friction. You definitely noticed the pressure from his pants pressed against your stomach. So close, you just needed anything. You bucked your hips against his, almost involuntarily, causing a rumble to escape his throat. His thumb stroked again.

“That’s a good girl” His head bobbed lower dragging his tongue down as he kissed your neck. You could feel him smile as he sucked the skin of your collar bone in a way that would definitely leave a mark. Holy Hell. What was happening.

You were sick of your neck getting all the attention as you reached up to take his face in your hand. He practically melted at your touch, his breath hitching as you stroked his cheek with your thumb. You wanted him, needed his mouth on yours. You pulled his face up, a little roughly, to meet your gaze. You thought you heard him let out a little surprised chuckle from the movement. His eyes were half lidded as he met yours. He was drunk, and you realized, so were you. You leaned in, your lips feather light against his-

You jumped at Wade’s voice from the other side of the door, calling for you.

Shit. You dropped your hand away from his face.

Logan growled, low and angry. He abruptly took his hot hands from your body and leaned his head to your ear, you felt his lips against your skin.

“Some other time then, darlin’.” He pulled away from you swaying slightly, before grabbing his beer from the counter and yanking open the bathroom door.

~~~

Anyway, thanks for reading. I guess I don’t know if this is any good and I will be posting the rest on Ao3 eventually

#deadpool and wolverine #wolverine x reader #reader x character #logan howlett #wade wilson

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cryptcutiee · 1 year

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Karma Is My Boyfriend

Pairing: Leon Kennedy X Reader (gender neutral) Synopsis: In search of good karma, you do a random act of kindness by paying for the coffee of whoever comes in behind you. That person ends up being a rather attractive man. Tags: Fluff, Comfort Warnings: Use of pet names (sweetheart, sweet thing), age gap (if you squint) Song: Karma - Taylor Swift Word Count: 1.6K Author's Notes: Ahhh hello Tumblr! I haven't posted any writing in a very long time. This is my very first fic on this account, but I do have more in the works. So if you want to see more from me or a part 2 to this, lmk! This is my first x reader story in years so comments and feedback is appreciated!

The day had barely started, yet everything that could go wrong was going wrong. Alarms you set decided not to go off. You had burned your breakfast. The hot water in your shower lasted a total of two minutes before it plunged you into an ice-cold drizzle. Clothes you wanted to put on had mysteriously vanished into thin air. You had dressed in attire you didn't want to wear when it started to rain as you were leaving. It was a bunch of little things adding up to a horrible morning. That didn't bode well for your luck today, which made you worry. Today was significant. You were waiting to hear back from that apartment complex. You needed to get approved for it. The current studio you were living in was crap, and this place would be a major upgrade. With how your day was going, your hope was at an all-time low.

This is how you found yourself standing across the counter from your best friend at the local coffee shop. They were a barista here, and although gossiping on work hours should be frowned upon, they always had time for you. Besides, it seemed slow today. Nobody was in line, and the few patrons lingering around were sitting at tables chatting or working. So you vented about your entire morning as your friend took down your coffee order. You got your usual which was no surprise. With the way your day was going, why would you try something new?

Your friend's eyebrows quirked up at how much of a nightmare your morning had been. "Sounds like you're having a bad energy day."

You leaned against the counter with a deadpan expression. "No shit Sherlock. Normally I wouldn't care, but I can't afford for today to be a bad day! At this rate, I'm going to get denied." You groaned. Anxiety was eating at you, and with how everything had been going, you had little faith in good news.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Your best friend pulled your attention back, "Thinking like that will just make it worse. What if you put some good energy out there, you know, like karma or something?"

You blinked as you took in their words. Karma? You understood the concept of it. Doing bad would attract bad, and doing good would attract good. A sigh left your lips as you stared across the checkout at your friend. "How do you suggest I go about that?" You're sliding your debit card across the counter as you stare them down, waiting for whatever idea they have.

Your friend put on their thinking face, and within moments their expression lit up with an idea. "What about a random act of kindness? You could pay for whoever comes in next!"

The idea rattled around in your brain for a moment. It wasn't like you believed in supernatural forces, but what exactly did you have to lose? "Fine, charge the next person's order to my card. Please don't make a big deal out of it though! I'm not doing it for recognition."

"You got it! Now go wait over by the pickup end. I'll get your order out."

With a nod to your friend, you moved over to the pickup area. Your fingers drummed against the counter anxiously. Eyes darting down to your phone as you waited for that email from the apartment complex. You could hear the bell on the door as you scrolled through your notifications. You listened to your friend speaking to what sounded like a man, but you kept your eyes stuck to your screen. He ordered a black coffee, and then your best friend said the words that made you focus more on the conversion feet away from you.

"I'm happy to say your order today has already been covered!"

When you looked up to see who you had paid for, you may have encountered one of the most attractive men you have ever seen. He had to be older than you, but he looked like he took care of himself. His shirt clung to his fit form, and those arms looked like they could pop a seam on his sleeves. Maybe karma did exist because the universe had just dropped this gorgeous sight right into your lap.

"Oh?" The man's low timber caused something to crawl down your spine. "By who?"

You could see the gears turning in your best friend's brain on how to answer the question. They knew what you asked for but could also witness your reactions from the sidelines. "By the person who ordered before you."

The man quickly put the pieces together, and his eyes glanced at you, the only person waiting for their order.

Mentally you were screaming and cursing at your friend for putting you in this situation, but at the same time, you were thanking them. As if to send the message home, they called out your name and slid your coffee order to you. Your eyes met his, and you felt your stomach do a flip. His eyes were breathtaking. If you looked too long, you thought you'd drown in them. With all the courage in your bones, you mustered an awkward smile. Hand reaching over to grab your coffee, you noticed out of the corner of your eye as the man moved toward you.

"Hey." A slight smile touched his lips as he approached, "Were you the one that paid for my coffee?" He knew it was you, and there was no point in lying to this stunning man.

"Yeah, I did. Don't worry. It was nothing." You replied, trying to shrug it off. "I just wanted to pay it forward. Trying to get some good luck." That same embarrassed smile glued to your face. Talking to this man wasn't in your cards today, but it was going better than everything else this morning.

"I can't just let you do that without introducing myself. I'm Leon, Leon Kennedy." Leon extended his hand out. Your own wrapped around his for a handshake while introducing yourself. "Why are you looking for good luck? Something wrong, sweetheart?"

Your free hand shot up in denial. "Oh no, nothings wrong! I'm waiting for an important email. It's to see if I got approved for this apartment I applied for." There was no reason for you to be telling Leon all of this. He was a stranger, but he was easy to open up to. "My morning was a disaster, and I didn't want the bad luck to continue, so my friend suggested I do something for good karma." You gestured to the barista in the background, your best friend. "Sorry, that all sounds a little silly."

"Not at all." The corner of Leon's lips lifts into a smirk." It's cute, honestly." Those blue eyes of his glimmered with interest as he spoke. It caused butterflies to flutter in your tummy. Suddenly your nerves aren't about the email. They're more about the man in front of you. "Do you have any plans today? I hope I'm not holding you up."

As fast as you can, you shake your head in response. "You aren't! I don't have anything to do today except wait." You watch as your friend delivers the black coffee Leon ordered. Their eyes glance at you with a knowing look. When Leon turns his back to them, they give you a thumbs up before scurrying back to the checkout.

"Then you'll let me repay you by grabbing dinner with me?" Leon grabbed his coffee, a sure look in his eyes. "It's the least I can do for a sweet thing like you, besides it'll get your mind off that email."

Did you just get asked out by some guy you bought coffee for? He was undoubtedly good-looking and had effortless charisma. Saying no would be a mistake. "Sure!" You automatically flush at how enthusiastic you sound. "I mean, that sounds like a nice distraction."

Leon let out a faint chuckle. "I usually get turned down. Maybe I have all the good karma today." Your eyes meet as he takes a sip of his coffee. "You like Italian? I know a good place, my treat."

"I do." Your lips curl into a soft smile. "Do you want to exchange numbers? Here." You open a fresh contact page on your phone and hold the device towards him. Your fingers brush against his as you pass your phone over to Leon. It causes a light blush to paint your features, and you can only hope he doesn't notice. As he's putting his number in, the faint chime of your notification tone rings out.

Leon's eyes dart to the pop-up, and he grins. "Looks like I'm your good luck charm." He comments, passing the phone back to you.

Your eyes automatically search the screen and see an email notification. The apartment complex approved you. A wide smile breaks out on your face. "I guess you are, Leon. Maybe I should keep you around." You can feel his blue eyes on you as you say that.

"Maybe you should." There's a beat of silence between the two of you. It suddenly feels like you got trapped in some romance novel. "So, celebration dinner then? Send me your address, and I'll pick you up at seven." Leon breaks the silence with that intoxicating tone of his.

"That works for me! I'll text you."

Exiting the coffee shop, you feel much better than when you arrived. Your newest contact, Leon, is on the screen, and you can't get that smile off your face.

Karma is the guy on the screen, coming straight home to me.

#.˚ ༘ cryptcreeps #cryptcutieewrites #cryptcutieeposts #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil

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garfinkelstingle · 2 years

Note

heyy, I absolutely loved you timothée's fake ig posts. if you don't mind, could you do a part 3 for that one with blanca as face claim? that's ok if not. ty <3

social media au | timothee chalamet

click here for part one

click here for part two

pairing: timothee chalamet x celebrity!reader

warnings: swearing?? should be about it

a/n: HELLO!!!! it's been a hot minute! life has been lifing pretty hard right now (not even necessary in a bad way just in a "a lot" way) and so i've barely had time to breathe let alone post stuff on tumblr! but alas, winter break is here and i thought why not!!!! hope everyone's doing well & that you're happy with part 3 nonnie, even if it took me a literal eternity!! enjoy :) oh and also merriest of chritsmases to everyone celebrating!!!!

masterlist

yourinstagram

liked by tchalamet, florencepugh and 1,321,439 others

yourinstagram fries before guys ;)

view all 38,392 comments

sydney_sweeney too cute

yourfan97 oh to be a fry on y/n's place...

yourfan62 timothee chalamet is stronger than me because if y/n were to look at ME this way, i would be a puddle on the floor and in no way or shape capable of taking a picture of any kind of her 😭

tchamalet but not all guys right????

yourinstagram obviously

*liked by tchalamet

timmyfan81 timmy really won the jackpot with y/n huh??????

tchalamet

liked by yourinstagram, austinbutler and 1,922,348 others

tchalamet stay spooky

view all 91,392 comments

zendaya scary boi

yourinstagram the scariest

*liked by zendaya, tchalamet

florencepugh you should do a edward scissorhands reboot lol

tchalamet this is my petition for just that

*liked by florencepugh

timmyfan72 he literally looks so good how?????

timmyfan99 pov you've never seen edward scissorhands and now don't want to unless timmy plays edward

yourinstagram the edward to my kim ♥️

*liked by tchalamet

yourfan62 no but i'm like 113% convinced this was a couple's costume you cannot change my mind ever

tchalamet

liked by yourinstagram and 2,834,283 others

tchalamet feliz cumpleaños mi amor ❤️

view all 132,438 comments

yourfan62 will i ever be okay with this??? the answer is NO NEVER EVER EVER

timmyfan89 timmy really is beyond in love with her it's too cute i literally can't 😭😭😭😭

tomholland2013 hey y/n happy birthday mate!

yourinstagram thanks tom!!!

timmyfan91 happiest of birthdays to the one that makes timmy the happiest (thus making us fans even happier) 🤍

*liked by yourinstagram

yourinstagram ti amo ❤️

tchalamet ❤️❤️

yourfan62

liked by timmyfan13 and 27,382 others

yourfan62 NO BECAUSE WHO GAVE THEM THE FUCKING RIGHT TO BE THIS FUCKING PERFECT IM LITERALLY SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP I LOVE THEM SO MUCH AAAHHHHH

view all 1,392 comments

timmyfan73 they are my literal parents i do not care what anyone has to say i am their child and that's that

yourfan93 WHERE DO YOU HAVE THIS FROM?????

yourfan62 they were seen together in LA not too far from timmy's house yesterday 😭😭

timmyfan66 honestly i'd bet my left foot that they're living together i mean she's seen there CONSTANTLY now even when he seems to be out of town

yourinstagram

liked by tchalamet, haileesteinfeld and 3,283,128 others

yourinstagram forever vacay w u <3

view all 45,283 comments

jennaortega too cute!!

florencepugh crashing your vacation next time cause this just looks too good to pass up on

yourfan62 ok but they are literal soulmates i said what i said

timmyfan18 the arms around her neck no i'm nOt okay 😭😭

tchalamet forever & always

*liked by yourinstagram

tchalamet

liked by yourinstagram, tomholland2013 and 2,381,482 others

tchalamet 365.

view all 98,329 comments

haileesteinfeld can't believe it's already been a year of you and tiny foot!!!!

yourinstagram my feet aren't tiny his are just... never mind 💀

*liked by haileesteinfeld, tchalamet

timmyfan71 HOW HAS IT BEEN A YEAR ALREADY WHAT???

harrystyles i do feel entitled to credit considering that i took this masterpiece of a picture

yourinstagram & counting

*liked by tchalamet

yourfan62 NO BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN TELLING EVERYONE FOR CLOSE TO A YEAR TOO I HAVE LITERALLY BEEN CALLING THIS FROM THE BEGINNING IM A FUCKING GENIUS

yourinstagram

liked by tchalamet, florencepugh and 4,382,419 others

yourinstagram time really does fly by fast when you're happy, huh? can't believe it's already been a year of absolute and utter bliss with my favorite person by my side ❤️ here's to infinity to come!!!

view all 373,328 comments

yourfan62 i wanna gloat but i'm also crying because these two are absolute and utter perfection 😭😭😭

timmyfan90 thanks for making timmy happy you're literally all he talks about in interviews!!!

niallhoran happy anniversary bubs!

zendaya otp

timmyfan19 i want what they have 😭

tchalamet i love you

yourinstagram my everything 🤍

timmyfan82

liked by yourfan62 and 7,382 others

timmyfan82 timothee posted this picture on his story yesterday of him and yourinstagram in the car together and honestly my life has not been the same since 😭

view all 162 comments

yourfan62 they are literal couple goals i can't with them honestly

timmyfan18 the way there's nothing i wouldn't do for them

timmyfan73 no bc if they ever break up i will NEVER believe in true love ever again 😭

yourinstagram

liked by tchalamet, ,zendaya and 4,281,390 others

yourinstagram addition to the family <3 say hi to oscar!!!!

view all 180,284 comments

haileesteinfeld omg oscar's the cutest thing ever!!!! can't wait to hang out with him soon 🥺

florencepugh the cutest wee little puppy i have ever seen

yourfan62 THEY GOT A PUPPY TOGETHER I REPEAT THEY GOT A PUPPY TOGETHER!!!!!!!!

timmyfan77 never have a i ever wanted to be a dog more than i do right about now

tchalamet oscar's officially my second favorite living thing in the world

yourinstagram the first one being?

tchalamet you. only you.

yourinstagram's story

1K notes · View notes

dfortrafalgar · 5 months

Text

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings

(also it's far too late in the game for me to be asking this but can someone help me figure out why everyone's blogs outside of the first five people in the tag list dont show up. ive been on tumblr since like 2014 and still cannot figure this stuff out im sobbing)

Chapter 28

[Prev] [Next]

Your maternity leave had started early, not helped by how active one of your babies was at the crack of dawn. Every morning when you woke up to the sound of your alarm and rolled over to hoist yourself out of bed, you felt a kick against your abdomen. When you stood up, you felt that familiar fluttering sensation. One morning, you slept in only a few minutes longer than you normally did, and were punished with a small shove against your bladder that had you involuntarily unloading your urine into your pajama bottoms.

That one made you cry, Law keeping his chuckles to himself as he helped you clean up in the bathroom.

“Stop berating them through my stomach,” you sobbed. “I just pissed my pants.”

Your husband had answered you with a soft kiss to your swollen skin as he bent down to pick up your soiled clothing and bring them to your washing machine. “It happens, darling. It wasn’t your fault.”

Needless to say, it had been an emotional third trimester thus far.

On a Friday evening, you were sitting reclined against the arm of your couch, a book resting on your belly as you munched on some apple slices when Law came bursting through the door. He was frantic to kick off his shoes and shrug off his lab coat, hanging it on the hooks in the entryway before scrambling into the living room and plopping himself down next to you. He was holding a notebook in his hand.

“Hello to you, too,” you stated sarcastically, placing a paper bookmark in your novel to mark your spot and adjusting yourself on the couch to sit with your legs crossed under you.

“I was busy on my break today,” Law stated matter-of-factly, flipping through the wrinkled notebook with a fervor. When he found the page he was looking for, he folded the journal in half and held out the exposed page to face you.

A bunch of squares and barely legible writing covered the lined paper. You squinted. “I have no idea what I’m looking at, babe.”

Law rarely had moments where he got so excited that he couldn’t speak, but this was clearly one of those moments. He would forget that other people didn’t have over 20 years of medical training going back to the age of five. “Sorry, sorry.” He turned the notebook back toward him, using his finger to point out what he had scribbled down. “These are genetic predictions. It’s estimated that about 50% of fraternal twins will be opposite genders, so a boy and a girl. Which means about 25% will be both boys, and about 25% will be both girls.” He moved his finger from one scribble to another. “I have black hair, which I’m assuming to be the dominant gene among the two of us. However, I’m also a carrier for brown hair, because my mother and sister both were brunettes. Accounting for your hair color, I’m estimating that it’s a 75% chance that both of our babies will have black hair. At least one of our babies will have my eye color, but I believe your eyes are the dominant trait. I remember you saying at one point that someone in your family had curly hair, right? I’m estimating a 25% chance that at least one of our kids will have curly hair. If both of our babies are boys, the chances are 75% that they’ll be colorblind, and 25% that only one of them will be colorblind. If both are girls, it’s a 75% chance that both of them will be carriers for the colorblind gene, 25% that only one of them will be. But again, this is all approximations. So then I started thinking about more technical stuff. I have B+ blood, but I couldn’t remember what your blood type was, so we have to go off of the Rh factor, which is dominant with positive Rh, which means that at least one of our babies will have Rh positive blood, likely both. Male pattern baldness is also a dominant trait in most families, but I’m 26 and still have a full head of hair, so hopefully if we have a boy, he won’t have to worry about hair loss. Funnily enough, I learned today that having six fingers on one or both hands can actually be a dominant allele in some genetic lines, but neither of our family members have had any form of polydactyly that I can recall. Just an interesting thought. Anyway–”

Your shoulders were shaking with your laughter. “Law, slow down! Breathe!” Your hands reached forward to grab his shoulders to settle his excited rambling, his face slowly losing color as he was speaking more than he was absorbing oxygen.

You watched as your husband took a long gulp of hair in before blowing it out slowly. “Sorry. I got excited.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re adorable,” you replied, stroking your hand along his cheek. “How long did it take you to write all that down?”

Law glanced one more time at his notebook before closing it and discarding it on the coffee table. “About 15 minutes.”

You snorted. “I hope intelligence is a dominant trait so that both of our kids will be as smart as you.”

“You’re smart too,” he argued back, his voice light and content.

“Not ‘scribble down multiple punnett squares in 15 minutes’ smart,” you countered. “Have you eaten anything yet?”

He shook his head, stretching his arms behind his back. “Nope, I came straight home. I was too excited to show you that.”

You grinned, struggling to lean forward to kiss the tip of his nose. He assisted you by leaning forward on his own legs, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How have you been feeling?” he asked suddenly, diverting the topic. One of his hands came to rest on the crest of your belly, petting the taught skin through your shirt.

“Tired,” you replied. “It’s hard to stand up. Robin said both babies are probably around 2 or 3 pounds by now, but honestly it feels like I’m carrying lead weights when I stand. I feel like a turtle.”

“Any more movement?” he asked, scooting over the cushions to be closer to you, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders to pull you into him. You gladly followed his gesture, dropping your head into his neck.

“One of them moves in the morning still, the other likes to kick when I go to bed. The only reason I’ve been able to tell is because I feel them on different sides,” you groaned. “I don’t know what it looks like with them folded up in there, but they haven’t made it easy on me.”

Law hummed in response, his free hand stroking your belly. The feeling of his palm against your bump felt more soothing than the finest lotion. “I’m just glad that they’re both okay… not like I’m thrilled that you’re in pain, obviously, but…”

“No, trust me, I am too,” you sighed, closing your eyes. “I’ve made it this long now, and both of them are still alive. And pretty soon…”

Your husband knew exactly what you were going to say when your voice trailed off. It was a subject the two of you had been tip-toeing around for quite some time.

The birth.

“That’s the one thing that’s still scaring me,” you admitted. “I’m already high risk, and anything could go wrong. I might have to be ripped open while awake to get them out. I might die, even.”

Law felt his chest clench. “Don’t say that, you won’t die.”

“But we don’t know that,” you sighed, your voice growing more nervous by the second.

“No, you won’t die,” he replied firmly.

You felt mildly guilty for broaching the subject. You knew how difficult it was for him to even think about the slim chance of losing his family again, not when he had come so far and achieved so much with you. You leaned your head upward to kiss the soft skin of his neck, his sideburns tickling your forehead. You felt his arm around your shoulder pull you even closer to him, his breaths shallow.

“I’m sorry…” you muttered.

“Don’t be,” he responded quickly. “I mean it. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His hand dropped from your belly to grasp your own, tilting his head down to meet your own as his lips gently pressed against yours. Your eyes slipped closed, leaning into his tender kiss and wrapping your free arm around his torso. The size of your belly made it hard to be flush against him, but you made do. After all, you would have to get used to cuddling with two babies soon enough.

You pulled away from his lips. “Hey, so how’s the studying been? For that surgery?”

Law groaned, not at you, but at the mere thought of the looming procedure that had been bearing on his mind for the past eight weeks. “I feel like I’m back in med school, that’s for sure. I feel ready for it, but at the same time I can never be too prepared. It’s going to be… a lot.”

Dual heart-lung transplants were very, very rare, and used for the most severe of cases. The procedure had never been performed at Law’s hospital before. Single heart transplants had been done, and a few lung transplants, but never at the same time. Law’s cardiac ward was specifically chosen for the operation because of the young doctor’s expertise in the field. The patient’s life was quite literally in Law’s hands.

A small smirk flashed on his face. “I started wearing gloves in that patient’s room with his family. I don’t want them to see the tattoos on my fingers.”

“Do you not wear gloves for any other patients?” you asked with a small giggle.

“No, I do, when performing treatments. When I’m on rounds, I just stick my hands in my pockets,” he explained. He had one dimple on his cheek that showed up when he smiled. You couldn’t help but peck a quick kiss to it. His stomach suddenly grumbled, startling the two of you.

“You stay right here, I’ll make us some dinner,” he said, making a move to stand up.

“Pancakes,” you demanded with your own mischievous smirk.

“We had pancakes a week ago,” he replied with a smile.

“And?”

Law leaned down for one last kiss on the crown of your head. “Alright. Pancakes it is.”

—

Your pregnancy journal had gone from an anxious possession that you worried would jynx your good luck to a vice that you crawled back to whenever you were bored. The pages were filled with the ink from your pen as you used the prompts to delve into some of the thoughts you kept to yourself, your feelings about your body, your babies, your relationships, the hopes and dreams and the worries and troubles you tried not to stress about. You kept track of the gifts you had received, the words of advice from your doctor, and the unprovoked comments from elderly ladies at the supermarket who liked to comment about how cute of a couple you were when you shopped for food with your husband.

The grouchy, black-haired surgeon with bags under his eyes and a resting bitch face, and you, his slightly shorter, glowing wife with a very large pregnant belly and a polite, shining smile on her face. You were truly a match made in heaven, one might say.

Law had been busier and busier in the weeks getting closer to your due date. As the weather got colder, the holidays came and went, and the new year began, he was diving more and more into his studies preparing for what was easily the largest, most intense, and most serious surgery of his professional career. Some might assume that you would get tired of the neglect, growing frustrated that he wasn’t around to spend time with you in your third trimester, but in reality, you couldn’t be more proud.

The sight of him hunched over your kitchen table surrounded by old textbooks and papers was an image straight out of your college days, where you’d let yourself into his single dorm room close to midnight and find him on his floor in the dim lighting surrounded on all sides by professional journals, research papers, and textbooks from every esteemed surgeon in his field. You’d sit down next to him and diligently push french fries against his lips as his eyes stayed glued to his studies, rewarding you during his sparse downtime with awkward kisses that tasted like salt and firm yet shaky hands that were obsessed with traveling up and down your body.

The only difference now was that Law was that professional in his field, that he was in an apartment, and that you both had rings on your fingers. The french fries stayed the same, but he at least had a piece of mind to feed himself while you watched from the couch and giggled. Every once in a while, he would lean back against his seat and pop his spine with a satisfied groan, toss you a fond look across the room, and go back to reading. Sometimes, you would stand behind him and rub his stiff shoulders, encouraging him to stand up and stretch his legs just as he would do to you to ensure you remained strong during the final weeks of your pregnancy.

The only thing weighing on your mind was the panging worry that he would be in the middle of this massive procedure when you went into labor. You were both informed by your doctor that most twins would be delivered either naturally or induced at around 36 weeks, almost a month before single babies were usually born, and with your due date at 38 weeks being in the middle of May, you had a nagging feeling in your head that he would miss it.

You both tried to hold onto hope that your babies would be delivered any other day that month. He would be gone for only a day, a full 24 hours, in total the day of the surgery. What were the odds that your babies would be born on that specific day? Slim, to say the least.

At around 32 weeks, it was getting hard for you to stand up. Your movements were slow and labored, and you were spending most of your days in your apartment either on your couch or in your bed, standing up when instructed by Law, or Shachi and Penguin when he was at work, to walk laps around your home. The fear of blood clots forming in your legs and traveling to your lungs, as described by your lovely husband in far too much detail, was enough to make you more determined to keep the blood pumping in your body.

“Alright, ready?” Law stated, standing behind you in the kitchen as you slowly made your way through a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“Ready,” you stated back, your eyes focused on washing the silverware in your hands.

His inked hands traveled around your torso and under your belly, lifting up against the bottom of your bump. The sudden relief of having the weight lifted off of your back made an almost erotic moan leave your lips, your grip on the silverware releasing slightly as the tension in your entire body flooded from your veins like a broken dam.

“Feel good?” he asked from behind you with a smirk, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

“Oh my god,” you groaned. “I saw a lot of posts that said that it feels good, but I didn’t think it would feel this good. I wish you could do that constantly.”

Sparse kisses were placed to the back of your head as his hands slowly released their pressure against the bottom of your bump, leaving your back aching once more as your body was forced to bear the brunt of the weight in your abdomen. You stifled a whimper as you were forced to hold what felt like 50 extra pounds on your own again, but Law’s lingering presence behind you with his hands resting idly on your belly soothed your aches subconsciously.

“Busy spring, huh?” he asked, filling the room where the only other sound was the sloshing from your dish washing.

You hummed in response, rinsing your hands and turning off the tap, drying your hands on a towel that lay on the counter beside you. “You could say that.” You turned around to lean against the counter, Law’s hands remaining on your body as you rotated. He leaned forward to capture your lips in his, you rewarding him with a smile.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be more physical with you…” you sighed.

Law pulled away. “Why are you sorry for that?”

You shrugged. “You seem like you’ve been a lot more handsy with me lately, and I can’t reciprocate. And I’m probably not going to be able to reciprocate for a while after I give birth.”

Your husband chuckled, planting chaste kisses across your cheeks. “I’m not ‘being handsy with you’ because I want anything. I’m ‘being handsy’ because I want you to be happy and comfortable. I’m not expecting anything in return. And by the way,” he pulled away to stare into your worried eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking about your post-birth body being somehow inferior to how you were before pregnancy, I know it.”

You averted your gaze, your lips pinching together.

“And I know you don’t like the stretch marks on your belly,” he added.

“Where are you going with this?” you asked, your voice quiet.

“Because I’m going to remind you every day how beautiful you are. Always. Even the changes that come with having a child. You’re always going to be beautiful to me. I’ll never be repulsed by your stretch marks or wrinkled skin or cellulite like you think I’m going to be. The person standing in front of me is a beautiful woman who has given me a life worth living, and I’m going to cherish her and support her through everything.”

Your eyes darted toward his neck, where his glass necklace still sat between his collarbones. He religiously wore it every single day, only taking it off to shower, sleep, and perform surgeries. Likewise, you never removed your glass ring. Hot tears began to form in your eyes, but your lips curled into a smile. Your expression fought for dominance over being happy or sad, and what resulted was a shaky grin, furrowed eyebrows, and watery eyes.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you asked, letting a few lose tears escape the corners of your eyes.

Your husband kissed the damp streaks that your tears left behind on your cheeks. “You fed me french fries on the floor of my dorm room in college. I think that’s when I knew you were going to be my wife one day.”

A bubbly laugh left your throat as your hands gripped his shoulders for stability. “I think I knew when you found me out behind my dorm building that night.”

Law leaned in to kiss you one more time, but a sudden gasp left your lips as your entire body tensed up. A stinging cramping sensation rippled across your abdomen, lingering in your muscles. It lasted about 30 seconds, where your shaking hands clenched the cotton of Law’s shirt, his eyes wide and frenzied as his hands supported your upright posture, before the pain finally dissipated into a mild buzz, then nothing at all.

You stared into Law’s eyes. “Can you help me sit down?”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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reorientation · 3 months

Note

Hello, it's grindr Alice again. It felt so embarrassing, having to say repeatedly that I've got a fresh load in a cunt, a female fertile cunt that's right there between my legs. After having to say I'm a female right there at the counter (yes, there were other people in there listening to us) they took me to a consultation room and asked again if it's for me, and if I know that this pill is for women... I had to confirm that yes, I know, I have all the parts and really really need it... I had to tell them that I was a cumdump just a few hours earlier because they asked how long ago I had sex. I had to write down 'female' on the form they gave me.

Also ironically the guy didn't even misgender me on purpose or anything, because I wasn't brave enough to say that I'm into that on grindr, I guess he just decided that calling me 'a female' is so obvious and natural becasue that's what I am regardless of my 'identity'...

My identity might indeed be just a needy little cunt. She's so desperate and leaking 24/7 - everyone said I'll get less wet on T, but it never happened, I have a constant flooding in my boxers, sometimes I'm even waking up with them completely soaked.

The guy I said I might get fucked by unfortunately bailed. He said he could take me raw in a park nearby, and I made my way there, and waited in the dark, and he never came. I edged for like 4 hours before that and I was so disappointed. I wish there was an app better than grindr, one where I could just indicate my location and the fact that my pussy is available for breeding and people could freely take advantage of that. I need to get railed properly, hard and rough and deep, without all the small talks and wasting time...

Grindr Alice here again: a guy messaged me on grindr while I edged browsing through tumblr. Got me wet. He said he could come and fuck me, that he's half an hour from me but he's willing to drive to fuck my pussy in a park. I said yes... And he actually drove here. We went to a park. He told me to lie down on my back. He fingerbanged me SO HARD and slapped my clit and teased it for what seemed like ages, I was so sensitive and I was doing my best not to moan too loud becasue I was so scared someone would come and see me, lying like that on the grass, spreading my legs for a stranger...

Like, he kept his trousers on but took mine so I was literally just in a t-shirt and my shoes, my cunt leaking on the grass and all over his fingers.

At some point he called me 'a good girl'... Then he corrected himself and said 'good boy' but I heard that 'good girl' and gods it made me gush even harder, it's so hot - he drove to fuck my pussy like a woman's pussy. To finger me, to touch my clit - he commented that it's big but he still called it my clit...

And he came in me. I spread my legs and let a stranger cum inside my cunt in the park. And then walked 10 minutes back home while his cum was dripping into my boxers.

I didn't cum, I felt so good and close, but I can't cum if I'm not the one touching myself I guess... but I loved it. I love it when I don't even cum, just like a toy. Well my grindr name is 'Fleshlight' so that's saying something I guess.

Now I'm touching myself, edging, to the memories of this fuck. Gods. I feel like such a slut. He called me that, and more, while he was fucking me. And he said it's the best pussy he fucked in the past 10 years right after he filled me full of his baby-making seed.

Somehow I'm still scared my implant is gonna fail me... but I can't stop myself from doing this again and again...

(Previously)

It's funny, Alice. You said at the very beginning of your first ask that after five years on T and top surgery, you "pass really well"... but none of that really seems to matter once you've offered a man your cunt, does it? To them, you're "female" or "a good girl" with an oversized clit. It's not indulging your kink, because you haven't admitted that to them - it's just the obvious way that they see you. It's natural. It's a fact.

And once you let that second man come inside of you, it became an urgent fact, didn't it? You had to go and tell all those people that you were a fertile female with a fresh load of cum in your womb. You had to do all that just to escape the consequences of being a needy, fertile little bitch.

And you may have quelled that fertility for now... but there's no escaping the rest of that new identity. God, how long has it even been since you saw a cock in real life for the first time - a few weeks? And you're getting fucked bare by a stranger in a public park, like a bitch in heat. You've barely found out what men's cocks feel like, but you know now that you were made to serve them.

You're a good little whore already, Alice. But I'm looking forward to the day that you realize that getting used bare while using an implant isn't enough for you. I'm looking forward to the day that you lift your ass in the air for a real man to fuck a baby into you.

#kink interactions #reorientation writing #reor: anon ask #ftm misgendering kink #ftm girl #ftm breeding #reor: anon life story #reor: grindr alice

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froggibus · 2 months

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Hi hello!! Hope u r doing well :>

R u perhaps currently working on more Venture stuff? If not could i request ur take on Venture hcs? Wtv hcs u have on them.

Ive been scavenging tumblr eversince Venture was announced and you are one of my FAVS so far when it comes 2 writing them :D!!! (Tysm 4 writing in gen 🙏) plsplspls write more stuff for them but no pressure ofc.

Beach Day HCs - Venture

Genre: fluff

CW: established relationship, showering together, lack of sunscreen, Sloan is a dork

you are too sweet!! I have quite a few venture requests i am working on still (albeit so incredibly slowly :,) ) but i wanted to give you something just for being so sweet ^^ i meant to include Ven in the hcs i did for the event rn but i simply forgot, so hope this makes up for it!!

this is part of our Summer Suntacular event, come check it out!

lifeguard venture please save me

they’re so much fun to hang out with that they can make even the sweltering heat fun

they don’t drink much tbh so they’ll probably pound back capri suns and maybe a mudslide while you’re out

definitely has dork ass water wings

searches the beach for cute seashells and sea glass to give you & somehow finds all the cutest ones

they WILL drag you into the water after them when they get bored (and they’re buff as hell from carrying that drill around—you cannot get away)

probably wear the most confusing bathing suit of all time tbh

board shirts and a rashguard but sometimes they just ditch the rashguard and rawdog it

wears crocs.

builds the most INSANE sand castle you’ve ever seen in your life

it’s giant, it’s structurally sound, it’s modeled after the Temple of Anubis (and surprisingly accurate)

makes you take a dork ass picture of them flexing in front of the sand castle too

they’re terrible at remembering to wear their sunscreen so please remind them (but tbh they’re so used to hot climates they don’t really burn)

however the minute you complain about being too warm they’re all over you about drinking water and reapplying yours

they WILL cuddle with you in the sand no matter how hot you are or how much you complain

good luck escaping them

they probably get super super flustered from seeing you in your bathing suit and can’t look at you without getting all red and shaky

however they cannot seem to tell you how hot you look and instead just look at you with the awooga eyes

as soon as you get home they’re sorting through the shells they picked up today

you have to make them go shower because they’re so used to getting sandy/dirty on excavations

they will “pleasepleaseplease” you until you sigh and hop in the shower with them

summer suntacular | masterlist | ow masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

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violetasteracademic · 6 months

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I know this has been said a million times in a million ways, but I humbly request an audience to September Virgo out for a hot minute and share my dissertation on why the "Three Brothers and Three Sisters is *lazy writing*" take is by far the WORST.

If you found me through my Lucien Vanserra's Hero's Journey breakdown (I'll link that at the end) then you already know I am an absolute nerd about book structure. I do not beef with the other ships and genuinely love and am interested in every character in these shipwars. But I get a little hot when I see this take!

The reason being is that 3 and 3 is not "lazy writing." Lazy writing is:

⚫ Conveniently de-escalating all current stakes and conflicts established in the service of a romantic pairing.

⚫ Poorly pacing a book because now we have to explain why a character was thinking about offering another character 1 ticket to ride his face, but now he quickly wants someone else instead that many people offline don't even know about. Structure wise- (we are talking three act structure here, again I have broken that down in the link I'll post below) this means that by the end of Act One, the act in which the lead of our story has been presented with all of the information and their story has been laid out, they are now crossing into Act Two with clarity and set up, (side note-the first act is typically resolved within the first 20% of the book (or less!) we must resolve an existing romance with one character that has not even gotten its opportunity to be told in depth (i.e. Feyre and Tamlin). And reasonably introduce a new romance. As well as the introduction of new plotlines to accommodate the new romance. It's just... it's a plot and pacing nightmare. I'm getting the sweats even thinking about it.

⚫ Ignoring years worth of details and foreshadowing in an act of fan service because the fandom decided they don't like your character, even if you, as the author, very much do.

⚫ Introducing a brand new plot in the middle of a smorgasbord of unresolved plotlines so a newly introduced side character who has already had a complete arc in service of another main character can now become the next main character, leapfrogging over the remaining main characters who have been around since book one with active storylines in development.

Three and three is not "lazy writing." Three is simply a motif. A motif is an artistic/literary device. Three sisters. Three brothers. Three mountains. Three stars on the night court insignia, ect.

Writing is: Structure. Line level prose. Obstacles. Stakes. Character arcs.

I will absolutely allow the criticism that it is cheesy or corny. That is an opinion, and you are totally allowed to have it. We can respectfully disagree on that and it's no skin off my back.

However, Elriel (as well as Vassien) have the elements that *good* writing is comprised of. Characters with steadily increasing arcs. Obstacles at every turn. Incredibly high stakes. And in my opinion (though of course everyone is allowed their own opinion on this!) some downright BREATHTAKING one liners and line level prose in their interactions from ACOMAF all the way to the bonus chapter.

Please, I beg of you, understand that just because you do not like something does not make it lazy or poorly executed. Art is subjective, and when we use our taste to make objective assertions about things we don't prefer, art suffers.

For more on book structure and the possibilities of Lucien and Vassa's absolutely beautiful potential, hop on over here:

Thank you for your time 😂

#elriel #elriel endgame #pro elriel #azriel x elain #elain x azriel #elriel supremacy

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melancholicmarionette · 7 months

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[Oh shit I did something. I wrote Val and Sam as podcasters. Warning: this is fucking stupid. I literally had to just stop writing bc it made less and less sense as I went on. But I love writing dialogue and it’s silly and this is tumblr. here have a little snack my dudes]

Graveyard Girls Episode 12: Roasting Ember’s Beauty Guru Era at 1 AM

“Hello and welcome to Local Ghost Smash or Pass—”

“I will fucking kill you.”

Valerie had to admit that Sam Manson’s ability to keep a completely straight face while saying the most unhinged nonsense was probably one of the reasons their video podcast was so popular. Her own ability to refrain from actually killing her was the reason it still existed at all. How they’d made it to episode twelve, however, still remained at least partially an enigma.

Though it was overall Danny’s kindness that slowly made his trio of friends into a tenuous quartet, Valerie had slowly become accepted by all of them, once she finally came to terms with Danny’s secret. Sam was the last to come around, though by the time they were both seventeen their tension was less due to fighting over a boy and more due to the fact that they could agree on almost nothing.

Most of Graveyard Girls was the two girls arguing, originally spawned by a viral TikTok Tucker posted, in which Valerie—at Danny’s bizarre request—tried to explain The Bachelor franchise to them and Sam being convinced she was making some of it up. People had been interested, and with Amity Park being a niche-but-also-hot topic, a weekly podcast was born.

“Okay but,” Sam leaned back in a vintage-looking office chair, “if I returned as a ghost, would you sma—” Sam cut herself off with a grunt as she dodged a throw pillow.

The show was mostly the two competing to see who could get the other to essentially rage quit, and while Sam’s personality was surprisingly just as strange as those of her best friends, Valerie was competitive enough to be a worthy opponent.

“You might just be, like, the worst person,” Valerie said, expertly catching the throw pillow as it was hurled back at her. “We’re not even three minutes in and I’m so uncomfortable with the energy you’ve created.”

“So our very last episode is three minutes long and titled Valerie Quits, then?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you Manson?” For a tense moment they stared each other down. “Say it one more time, see what happens.”

“So what is today’s topic, then?”

It was a challenge, to see if Valerie had forgotten it was her turn to start. She had.

They had the Box Ghost to thank for it, too.

“Okay, so—full disclosure,” she began, and she looked at her phone, “it is…1:16 in the morning. And both of us have been awake for like…”

“More hours than usually recommended,” Sam continued, “for reasons. We wanted to get this episode out on time so we are crunching.”

“And suffering.”

“And suffering quite a bit,” Sam concluded, nodding. “So my topic is that Ember McClain is trying to release eyeshadow palettes.”

“You cannot just drop that on me.”

“It was dropped on me,” Sam told her, “I’ve had to live with this. You don’t read the DMs for our official account so you didn’t see it and this poor lady, she has this indie cosmetics company and she slides into our DMs asking ‘is this person for real? I think she’s a ghost? She wants to collab.’”

“Collab…”

“And she sent me like…a mock up. I’m putting it in the google drive so get ready.”

Valerie picked her phone, opening their shared drive and—sure enough—seeing a digital version of a very Ember-esque palette, showcasing both dark and neon shades.

“She’s unhinged. But like…some of the shimmers on here aren’t terrible.”

“That’s the thing—I don’t like the bright blues and greens but there’s potential here. I could make a look out of it.”

“I’ve got conditions—if she wants to start the beauty guru era of her ‘career’ I need a full press release saying it’s not a complex murder plot,” Valerie said.

“I swear under penalty of perjury that I’m not imprisoning your parents in hamster wheels to power my sound system,” Sam affected an impression that would positively enrage the ghostly pop star as she spun around in her chair.

“My mad power-grab via subliminal mind control is so over, okay? That was the old me. Get to fucking swatching.” Valerie continued, snickering. “We kid, but this is actually peak influencer already.”

“We’re writing her YouTube apology for her,” Sam said, and she trained her eyes on the camera before continuing, “you cannot use this. I know you’re watching, I said your name once, and your Obsession is name-searching the universe. You have to do your own YouTube apology.”

“We should edit her name out before we upload.”

“We should.”

“…We’re not going to.”

“No, and a certain somebody’s gonna be on my ass about it. We should perhaps move on…”

#danny phantom #sam manson #valerie gray #like what if I just wrote them as two weirdos talking about weird shit #that’s what I did #fanfic

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with-love-from-hell · 3 months

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An update.

(Created June 9th, 2024)

Hello my lovely readers (both old and new). It has been a very hot minute since I have posted anything and I recognize that. I just wanted to give a short little update on some asks/comments I've been getting recently about my very low activity outside of reblogs.

A lot of stuff has happened personally over the past year or so that has left my thirst for writing completely dried up. I won't go into a lot of details, but there have been a lot of changes in friendships, amongst me training to be a supervisor at work (and completely changing my location of practice and working through a company merger), some more internal conflicts about whether me and my partner are having/adopting kids, amongst many other things. The time I would usually spend writing was during downtime at work, where I had no charting and many cancelations, and that has not been the trend lately- plus there is now a security blocker on my computer that completely blocks Tumblr from use, as well as Google Doc, which were previously the only two places I would draft my writings.

This is not me saying goodbye to writing all together. I still really love and enjoy it, but am needing to find some more free time and get back up the motivation to continue writing, which I have been hoping for over the past 9 or so months, but never happened. Because of this, I haven't moved my blog into "Hiatus", which I'm thinking I'm going to do now to avoid shame over having it open reciecing requests, and feeling too overwhelmed to even respond to them.

So for now, I am putting my blog into Hiatus.

Tips on Kofi are still accepted, but I will absolutely not be asking for any since I know I haven't been giving my all to writing lately, plus there are much more important things your money can be going to rn, like victims of the genocide in Palestine and Palestinian liberation.

In regards to my ongoing series:

I will eventually return to Melancholia, I really just don't know when. I likely will need to do a re-read of everything I've done with it and the parent series before that happens though, which is a lot to go through. I'm not making any promises, but my goal is to finish the series- I will say that much.

As for 5-sides: I completely stopped writing this one for now because I am going through a re-write of the series. Mostly because of the friendship shifts which resulted in 1 individual in the series being removed from my life, plus some shifts in other dynamics in that group. In addition, there were some things I felt I rushed and I could have done better at writing or incorporating devilgrams into the story, so I want to go back and comb through that one as well. I know this one didn't get much engagement because it's OC/my insert content, but it means a lot to me and I will be taking time to re-do it.

As for requests: I am going to put a pause on them until Melancholia is finished (which, like I said, doesn't have a clear timeline). I will also remind folks who do send in requests once they do open back up:

I am not your therapist, so please don't ask me for specific help with a problem you're having. I'm professionally trained and licensed as a therapist, but it is unethical (and illegal) for me to provide services without any agreements, HIPPA compliant technology, or respect for licensing laws that vary state to state, and even if it was, it is not something I want to do in this space. If you need help, please utilize Google or Psychology Today to find any services in your area.

Please keep requests somewhat simple and generalizable to a wider audience. I'm don't necessarily like writing for an mc with a Laundry list of diagnoses/problems occurring at once that seem *very* personal to the individual requesting, as I have many content enjoyers who want to relate to the writing I produce for free. This also takes up a lot more of my time researching to ensure I'm depicting everything correctly. This type of request is much better suited for a commission, given how much time and personalization goes into it. That doesn't mean you can't request writing for a specific diagnosis or problem (such as an eating disorder, self harm, or trauma) though. That I do encourage!

I am a person with a life outside of Tumblr. I have a full time job, an elder pet who needs significant attention, and a decent sized chunk of family and fiends that I am engaged with regularly off of the internet. Please don't harass me about your requests unless I have given you a clear timeline and am not providing updates. If you're just checking in that I have recieved them, I will reply to that and inform you that status of your request. However, you DO NOT need to send me a ton of messages asking the same thing when I had clearly indicated I was/am going to be working on it or that I'm not quite in the space to work on it, but would inform you when I was or tag you in it when its completed. This makes me far less likely to want to write your request. While it doesn't happen often, I've gotten it about commission requests a few times over the past few months and I just wanted this to serve as a gentle reminder.

I do look forward to getting the motivation to write again, and I appreciate all my readers who have supported me (not just with comments, likes, reblogs, and engagement, but financially as well when times were tough). I am so grateful for all of you and I appreciate so much that you all enjoy my writing enough to want to see more. I hope you all understand where I'm at, and can respect that while I take the time that I need ❤️

#obey me!#stormy speaks #melancholia #vermillion skies #5 sides of human

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