#timothee chalamet fan fiction

[avenging-fandoms]

I was wondering if you could writing something where y/n and timothée are sleeping together and she starts talking because she's having a wet dream with him so he listens to her and makes fun and is dom idkw only if you want thanks🧚🏼‍♀️

your body laid flat on the bed on your stomach, one leg over timothee's as your arm draped over his stomach. timothee laid on his back, arm over his eyes with his hand on top of yours. there was a slight breeze from your fan that circled the room, your cat leaving the room to drink some water and sleep on the couch.

you whimpered and started to stir, moving back to your side and laying on your back. you mumble something and timothee moved his arm from his eyes, and peeked them open when he heard you speak. he watched as your body moved, his hand rubbing up and down your side as he watched your face turn, thinking you were having a nightmare.

"fuck me, please" is what made his sleepy eyes shoot right open. he rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times, getting a clear image of his beautiful fiance next to him. you wore a tank top that showed off your hard nipples, and just your underwear that timothee could see was soaked thanks to the moonlight.

"more, timmy, fuck yes" your fist gripped the sheets and he covered his smirk, running his fingers up and down your stomach. your body reacted to his touch and he smiled with victory, fingers pressing down under the hem of your underwear.

you wake with a small gasp, timothee not removing his hands. "good dream?" he teased and you felt your cheeks get warm.

"you heard.. you heard me sleep talking?"

"i think you were sleep fucking, baby" he smirked and kissed your jaw, down your neck and your fingers grip his hair. "'more, timmy, fuck me please'" he mocked your voice and you hit his shoulder. "what did you want more of?"

"you" you whimper and he shakes his head, pushing his fingers farther down.

"you've got to be a little more specific, baby. i'm right here"

"your fingers! i want you to fuck me with your fingers" you sigh and kiss him deeply, rolling your hips up into his fingers.

"was that so hard?" he smirked and pushed two fingers inside of you, making you gasp and grab his wrist. you pull your lips in between your teeth, moving your hips up into his hand. “so needy, baby. tell me, what was happening in your dream?” timothee’s hand stops moving and you whimper, trying to move his hand but he stayed still. “tell me, and i’ll keep touching you” he whispered in your ear and bit your earlobe.

“it-it was our wedding night. you.. you were underneath..” timothee’s middle finger slowly started circling your clit, his eyes hooded as he watched your lip quiver.

“dreaming of our wedding day already, hm? i just asked you to be my wife 2 days ago” you smile and turn your head, kissing him deeply, straddling his waist. his hands gripped your ass, smacking it a few times and your hips grind down into him. “what was i doing under your dress, huh?” timothee sat up and wrapped his hand around your neck, his thumb rubbing over your jaw and lip.

“you.. you pushed my dress up and ate me out underneath my wedding dress” your hips grind against his hard on and timothee smiles, flipping you onto your back and pulling off your underwear.

“well why don’t i practice for the big day?” timothee spread your legs and let out a satisfied breath as his fingers rubbed up and down your soaked pussy. you gripped his hair and pulled his face forward, his mouth latching onto you. his tongue lapped your clit, middle finger fucking you slowly.

“fuck, timmy, more!” you beg and he slid his ring finger into you as well, moving his fingers faster as he watched your thighs trembling more and more. your panting got heavier, and timothee curled his fingers, and that’s exactly what you needed. timothee’s thumb rubbed your clit and you suffocated him with your thighs, riding out your high with timothee’s slow clit rubs.

you released the grip on his head and timothee sat up, your eyes falling to his hard on, and you were practically drooling. your fingers quickly pulled down his underwear and spitting on it, grabbing his hips and pulling him into you. “so needy for my cock, baby” timothee kicked off his underwear and you put timothee’s cock in you, the both of you letting out a moan.

timothee thrusted his hips against yours, looking down at you. “you are so gorgeous, baby. so fucking pretty. you take my dick so good baby” his words made your stomach flutter, his hands bringing your hips up so your shoulders were still on the bed.

the new position had your fingernails poking holes into the sheets and tearing them as his dick his your spot over and over. “faster, don’t stop, fuck!” timothee granted your demand, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead as his hips slapped into yours. your eyes rolled so hard to the back of your head and you pushed timothee off with your feet, body twitching furiously as your vision was blurred with black and stars.

“baby..” you regained your breath and held a hand over your mouth as you look at timothee. “yn, look what you did..” your eyes scanned his body, watching as he drips from you squirting all over him. your face turned red and you hid behind your hands, rolling on your stomach. “oh no, there’s nothing to be ashamed of” timothee laid on top of you, sliding his cock into you slowly.

“oh my..” you gasp and timothee moved your hair out of your face, kissing your cheek as he moved his hips. “fill me up, timmy. put your cum in me”

“fuck baby, oh my god” he whimpered in your ear, wrapping an arm around your neck and your cheek resting on his forearm. timothee let out a whimper and bit your jaw, pressing his hips deep into yours as he filled you with his seed. he kissed your face and shoulders, pulling away from you and kissing your back, massaging your hips. “let’s go shower, beautiful”

timothee helped you up and turned the water on the perfect temperature for you, the both of you stepping into the shower. timothee smoothed his hands over your hair and then his. you put some of his shampoo in your hands, scrubbing it into his curls. he left out a sigh and closed his eyes, rubbing his thumbs over your ribs.

you then shampooed yourself, timothee laughing as he takes over and turns you into george washington. “what, you don’t want to bang george washington?”

“please never say bang again” he cringed and you laughed, rinsing out your shampoo. “ahh! baby please get out of the way, there’s shampoo in my eyes” you laughed and held onto the bar as you were pushed to the side. timothee viciously rubbed his face and hair free of shampoo. “im so sorry, but i thought i was dying”

you both finished your shower routine and got out, drying off and getting into new pajamas. you in underwear and timothee’s shirt, and timothee in just his underwear. you snuggled into timothee’s arms after you change the sheets, his fingers playing with your hair as you both fall asleep to the sound of your fan.

[goldenatreides]

- training season -

[ paul atreides x reader ]

2.7k words, oneshot, smut, friends to lovers

summary: in a pinch, a dusty old weapons closet is just as good a hiding place as any.

content warnings: 18+ (minors shoo!) no use of y/n, all characters are over 18, f!reader, smut, religious imagery, mentions of violence, use of the Voice, implied consent, m/f pairing, fingering, PiV sex, semi-public unprotected sex, creampie, uhhhhh overuse of italics, gurney halleck jumpscare,

author’s note: you will pry my italics and religious imagery from my cold, dead hands. i need to be sedated. all feedback is appreciated and lmk if u find anything wrong, it’s my first time writing in a decade i think!! thank you to @earthshells for editing and teaching me about shrimping in bjj <3

🤍 masterlist 🤍 about 🤍 read on ao3 🤍

The clash of two blades resonates through the training room of Caladan.

Paul swipes at your side with his blade but you dodge, elbowing him hard in the ribs, catching him off balance. As you back away, he grabs your arm and pulls you down with him, pinning you against the ground; your face down on the cold stone floor, his legs straddling your back.

Your chest burns at the impact, flush against the floor. You feel his entire weight on top of you, heaving from exertion. His legs keep one arm locked at your side, under him, the other still caught in his grasp, pressed to the ground. Your blade scrapes against the stone.

“Do you yield?” His voice is much closer than you expect. His breath is close, tickling the back of your neck, too close, too warm—a shiver snakes down your spine.

(Why does it do that?)

Dark messy curls fall into your field of vision, some brushing the shell of your ear. A prickle against your jugular taunts you — his knife at your throat. Your shield buzzes with the contact.

(Ah.

He’s pressing it harder today than ever before.)

You make a small noise in answer, sound muffled by the ground.

Paul shifts his weight on top of you by sitting up, his legs still caging your back, knife at your throat. He relaxes the hand that holds yours bound.

(That’s new.)

Instead, Paul grabs a fistful of your hair at the back of your neck, lifting your head slightly. It hurts — but you can’t lie and say it’s… entirely unpleasant.

(Oh.

That’s new too.)

“Well?”

You can hear the teasing grin in his voice. Years upon years of training with him and still, he knows your left side is your weakest. But you’ll be damned before you give Paul the satisfaction of beating you for the third time in a row this week.

You wriggle slightly under him, testing his hold — why is he still clutching your hair? — and finding it looser than you expect, you rotate, using your free arm to lurch back and upwards suddenly, knocking him off you. You hear him land to your side with a thud and a surprised grunt, blade clattering to the ground.

Fingers curling around the hilt of your blade, you spin around, hooking your legs against his to trap him. Now, you straddle him, your knife pressing against his throat.

“What’s gotten into you today, Paul?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” he answers, still grinning.

His eyes are deadly, dark green.

Ignoring his choice to play stupid, you hiss: “Do you yield, Atreides?”

His holtzmann shield buzzes a bright red at his neck.

Your pulse buzzes too.

(Just the adrenaline.)

You want to wipe the smug grin off his face. He could have won so easily, you were distracted, why didn’t he?

Maybe he let his guard down too soon, or maybe — and you’ll never forgive him in this case — he’s going easy on you.

You feel the pinprick echo of his hands clutching your hair. A knot ties in your stomach, but you refuse to associate the two feelings.

(It must be close to lunch by now.)

Surely that must be it.

Paul laughs. It’s bright, airy — did your heart just skip a beat?

“Never.”

He reaches for his blade — that he shouldn’t have lost in the first place, he knows better than that — and as you lean forward to stop him, he uses your momentary distraction to free his other hand.

Which he promptly knots into your hair again, pulling you down by the back of your neck. Your legs slide out from under you against the slippery stone floor. Curse whoever built this castle.

Your own shield joins the buzzing, his knife finding your neck once more, yours still pressed against his, noses a hair’s width away.

His chest moves yours with each breath, every exhale waving strands of your hair that escaped his grasp.

You lie frozen above him for a moment or two. His eyes are so close you can count every individual lash, his pupils so blown you can see yourself reflected back at you.

Something about them is different today.

You’ve been staring at those eyes your whole life. Countless wishes cast on those same fallen lashes, gold flecks sparkling through a sea of forest green. You’ve seen them beam with childish mirth when you stole pastries from the kitchen, both your hands sticky from the bun you shared, giggling under a heavy oak table. You’ve seen them sorrowful and sullen, his under eyes as dark as bruises as he snuck into your room for comfort in the middle of the night after a bad dream, innocent adolescence.

Now, from so close, they’re dark, darker than you’ve seen—a raging sea, so bewitching it can drown you with no warning if you don’t tread with caution. You’ve caught glimpses of it before, in darkened hallways and after too many glasses of crimson Caladan wine, when he didn’t think you were looking—but never with such feverish intensity.

(Just the adrenaline.

He’s just caught up in the fight.)

Paul’s lips part slightly as his chest heaves up and down beneath you. You feel heat creeping into your cheeks, and a mirroring rosy blush dusts his high cheekbones. Few faint freckles dot his cheeks during the summer season and you see them now like clusters of little stars.

His eyes never leave yours, but his tongue darting out and slightly wetting his parted lips grabs your attention and you can’t help but stare. You trace your gaze along the dip in his cupid’s bow, the regal arch of his pointed nose, the cheekbones sculpted as if from marble of antiquity.

(Oh, Maker.

I’m staring.)

You cough to clear your throat from the thick silence that settles over the two of you, broken only by your mingled breaths. His mouth closes, lips curling into a coy smile as he sees you flush more under his stare.

“Something wrong?” his voice comes out husky, deeper than you’ve heard before. Why was the room suddenly so hot? The castle’s heating never worked so well.

You refuse to meet his piercing gaze again, mortified at the situation, desperate to look anywhere but at the boy below you. The boy —your childhood best friend, you remind yourself in an attempt to clear your head of whatever is happening—is different today.

(And whatever is happening is definitely not happening.

It’s just Paul.

He’s just messing with you.)

Still avoiding his eyes, you sit up, excuses already tumbling from your mouth—cut off by Paul tightening his grip on your hair, sending electric sparks tingling at the roots of your scalp.

Your breath hitches in your throat as his voice comes out not fully his own—distant, many echoing voices folding in his own all at once, commanding your undivided attention and acceptance:

“Look at me.”

Your stomach falls through the floor as your eyes snap to meet his. Maybe all those lessons he skipped to hang out with you were not so useless after all.

You feel every point of contact with him a thousandfold. His hand in your hair, yours on his chest, his toned waist between your ever-so-slightly trembling legs. His other hand drops his knife, and slides up to rest on your waist, lithe fingers delicately brushing the stitches of your clothing.

“Paul—” Your voice comes out more of a whispery mumble than you expected.

(Maybe the floor will open up and swallow me whole.)

The hand in your hair relaxes, and his palm slides down to the back of your neck, fingers light as a feather. They hook your jaw, cupping your cheek. You think you’ll suffocate under the weight of his gaze on you.

Paul breaks the stare first, his eyes clinging to your mouth.

His thumb gently traces the outside of your lips, teasing your bottom lip. You hope he can’t feel how your pulse thunders against your neck, your heart threatening to escape your chest at his very touch.

(He definitely can.)

Heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway outside break the spell and you both freeze in a moment of panic. A familiar voice calls out for Paul, as you jump off him and he scrambles to his feet.

He looks around the room quickly, and seeing an old and dusty weapons storage closet, he grabs your hand and pulls you into it, shutting the heavy door as quietly as possible behind him.

Not a moment too soon, as you hear Gurney Halleck’s voice coming from the training room.

“Paul?”

After a beat of silence, Gurney sighs in frustration and you hear the training room doors click as he leaves.

You and Paul breathe a sigh of relief. You’ve both skipped out on one too many tutors this week, but the consequences can wait until…later.

Your eyes adjust to the lack of light in the closet. In the inky darkness, you feel Paul standing in front of you, so close in the cramped space that with each breath his chest flushes against yours. He smells of cedar, of bergamot, of honey. Comforting. Familiar. Paul.

What the hell just happened in that training room? You’re not willing to break the heavy silence first. Neither is he.

Instead, he kisses you.

Your mind goes blank as you feel his lips, softer than a pillow, press against yours. The kiss is gentle, shy, nothing like the fierce training you were practicing earlier, nothing like the commanding voice of the Atreides heir.

(Oh, fuck it.

Maybe it is happening.)

As Paul starts to pull away, you open your lips and kiss him back—feverish, hungry, devouring—your heart hammering out of your chest.

It was as if a rubber band had snapped, releasing whatever was holding either one of you back. He deepens the kiss, and you melt into it—his lips crashing against yours, his tongue tracing against your own. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth and softly pulls, wrenching a deep moan from you that he stifles with his lips.

His hands find your waist and he pushes you back against the wall, lifting you up. You wrap your legs around his middle as he presses into you, his hips slotting perfectly between them.

The sudden movement sends a rack of old weapons crashing down, a cacophony of metal and plasteel, undoubtedly ancient and expensive, startling you both.

He pulls back from you for a moment and breathes heavily, both of you straining to hear if anyone noticed. As you relax, he presses his forehead against yours. A stray curl brushes your lashes. If someone were to find you here, like this, you’re both good as dead for the foreseeable future.

In the darkness, your labored breaths intermingling, his voice comes out as barely a whisper.

“Is this alright?”

Your head spins and you think if you don’t have him right now, immediately, you might die.

Instead of answering, you grab Paul’s face and pull him back in for a kiss. He moans into you, a deep guttural groan, rolling his hips forward, starving hands roaming against breathless skin.

Heat pools in your stomach as he continues to roll his hips against yours, his lips plush and addicting. You knot your fingers into his unruly curls, gently tugging and the groan that leaves his lips is more holy than a hymn.

(Maybe you could stay like this forever.)

He peppers desperate butterfly kisses along your lips, along your jaw, along the length of your neck. As he presses his lips to your pulse in the crook of your neck, you hear him chuckle as you feel the thud-thud thud-thud thud-thud of your racing heartbeat.

His hands fall from your waist to cup your thighs as he continues to kiss and nip at your neck, grazing his teeth along your pulse, leaving barely a mark. The heat between your legs only grows, electricity shooting upwards with every push of his hips. Even through the layers of cloth you can feel him against you and every cell in your body screams more, more, more.

Paul’s hand slides up your inner thigh, and grazes a sensitive spot through the fabric of your underwear. Instinctively, you arch into it, but he stops and pins your back harder against the wall until you can’t move an inch, trapped by his arms and his presence.

You know he’s grinning like a devil in the dark. You don’t want to wipe it away this time.

He toys with the waistband of your underwear, slipping a finger behind the fabric, teasing in lazy, languid strokes. You whine softly, unspoken begs for more of his touch that set your cheeks ablaze and your head whirling.

“What is it?” Paul asks, lips at your neck, kissing at a delicate spot right under your jaw.

“Please,” you groan.

His breathing is ragged as he continues toying with your waistband, a teasing finger occasionally traveling down between your legs.

You think you’re going to die waiting.

“Please what?” He’s toying with you, his voice laced with honey.

If you do die, you’re going to drag him to hell with you.

But in between bruising kisses, all you manage is a whimper that Paul swallows with his kiss.

“Use your words, my star.”

His lips trace the shell of your ear sending electric shivers down your spine. His teeth tug slightly at the lobe and the world echoes until the only thing left is him and his hands and his voice.

“I need you, Paul,” you breathe, the words leaving your mouth before you even think of them, pulled out by his Voice, “Please.”

A lithe finger finally slips under the fabric, pushing it aside. His thumb traces hurried circles around your clit, everything already slick from his relentless teasing.

He presses his lips to yours again, silencing his own groans. Just as the knot in your stomach starts to build, he slides a finger down your slit, and you sigh at the loss of his rhythmic movement.

But you don’t have time to voice your discontent—you feel him slide one of his long fingers inside you and you press into his touch. You don’t even have time to think before another finger slips in and you feel the slight burning stretch. Your head falls back against the cold wall as you pant, and his hands work in and out, chasing your pleasure.

You dig your nails into his back. His hand works faster and faster, and in between whispered curses and pleading prayers you find your release.

Through the haze of your high and waves of bliss, you’re vaguely aware of Paul’s belt buckle falling to the ground, somewhere. In the tangle of roaming hands, messy hair and skin plastered with a thin sheen of sweat, Paul’s shirt buttons come undone — likely by your doing — and your own soaked underwear gets lost in the dark — definitely Paul’s doing.

However, you’re very aware of every inch of Paul as he slides himself into you, your name falling from his lips like a prayer over and over again.

“You’re doing so good for me, my star,” Paul sighs into your ear, his hips flush against yours, fully inside. “You’re doing so well.”

With every thrust of his hips, you welcome the feeling of fullness as your nails rake down his back, leaving delicate red marks and half-moon indentations. Every push, he reaches a deeper part of you, his hands guiding your hips to meet him again and again, goosebumps covering your skin at his feverish touch.

Through half lidded eyes, you see his silhouette in the dark, tousled dark curls haloed by a sliver of light from the doorframe, strong shoulders and toned arms keeping you pressed against the wall even as his hips stutter in his desperate rhythm inside you.

He falters and you feel him twitch, consequences be damned, as he sinks completely inside you, hands bruising your hips and voice groaning as his own release catches up to him.

He looks almost holy this way, completely undone inside you, and whispering your name as if it can save him.

(Maybe it can.)

[sp7-mr]

throwing my phone out the window after seeing this 😊

"oh no....I don't have a phone either"

[anystalker707]

Read before requesting

Requests' status

Meet the author

♱ MCR MASTERLIST

♱ MCR MASTERLIST II

♱ MCR MASTERLIST III

࿐ ONE PIECE MASTER LIST

࿐ ONE PIECE MASTER LIST 2

↳ ONE PIECE KINKTOBER MASTER LIST

❦︎ ATTACK ON TITAN MASTER LIST

♱ EXTRAS MASTER LIST

Includes: ⋆ HAIKYUU!! ♡ CREEPYPASTA ☽ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⭐ ACTORS MASTER LIST

Includes: ᯓ★TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET 🌿 HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN 🩵 CILLIAN MURPHY ✩ MARK HAMILL

[meetmyothersouls]

Halloween Special

🎃 Hello Everyone 👻

Welcome to my second annual Halloween Special! So happy to be bringing this back for my followers this year! Last year it was a big hit and I’m even more excited this year since I’ll have two people to write for! For the rest of September and all of October I will be writing imagines for Jonah Hauer-King and Timothee Chalamet that are all horror, spooky, and fall themed! With this, I am able to combine two things that I am passionate about: writing & horror!

Here’s how it works:

I will pin this post and below will be a list of prompts and a brief description of what I can do with each prompt. I will have a selection for JHK and TC. Most of these will be stand alone works but if there’s is a part two wanted I will gladly write one! Of corked if you want to send in your own spooky request feel free to do so!

Here we go!

Jonah Hauer-King

🎃 Pumpkin Patch/Corn Maze - Reader and Jonah have a cute fall date in this setting.

👻 Detective Work - Reader is a detective investigating a gruesome murder with her new partner Jonah.

🎃 The Through Hike - A series I planned but haven’t stared yet. It involves mountains and zombies. I’ll leave it at that 🤭

👻 Room Service - Reader is a house keeper at a hotel when a man keeps calling her into his room with a strange request.

🎃 I’m Scared - Reader is camping for the first time with Jonah.

👻 Who You Gonna Call? - Reader is a famous ghost hunter and brings her boyfriend Jonah on one of her expeditions.

🎃 Surprise Me! - I’ll create an original spooky story just for you!

👻 Pick Your Poison - Give me your own ideas and I’ll turn it into a story!

Timothee Chalamet

🎃 Please Continue - I’ll continue any prompt from last years Halloween Special (located in Masterlist Vol. 2)

👻 Cruise of Nightmares - Reader and Timothee go on a cruise but after a storm things seem…off.

🎃 One of us is Lying - A golden age murder mystery. Someone in the house has killed the maid and no one’s leaving until we find out who.

👻 Skinwalker - Something seems weird about Timothee’s new friend.

🎃 You’re not Scared, Are You? - Reader takes Timothee to a haunted house.

👻 I’ve Got a Secret - Reader and Timothee are newly dating and reader is definitely hiding something.

🎃 Surprise Me! - I’ll created a story just for you!

👻 - Pick Your Poison - Give me your own ideas and I’ll turn it into a story!

I’ll change the prompts up in October or if we’ve gone through all of them before then!

For now, I’ll link Masterlist Vol. 3 here so you can all access it still.

Jonah tags: @danielabetancourth @luna2034 @wandamaximoffbae @twinkledinkleg-blog @justagirlwholovedtoread @nonsensical-nonsence @paramorelvrr @thedonswife13 @miniemonie2001 1 @jonahhauer-kingg

Timothee tags: @dayafied @soulofendlessbook @fashphotolife @scentedkittenperfection @weasleytwinscumslut @timotheel0ver @mxciscastleintheair @marvelmaniac2000 @lovelyrocker @divine-1 @love-poems-only @starberry-cake @inlovewithphantasy @alexagirlie @misswestfall @softhecreator @livresjaunes @timmymyluv @inannamoon @harrys-thick-thighs @s-we-e-t-t-ea @timolaurence @its-schmackin-dude @justagirlwhoneedshelp @kteezy997 @sufferingstarlight @xoxoloverb @tropicalrozmajzl @iloveneilperry @syirnge @patronsaintofthetwinks @roseboysareprettier @onlyenoughiamweird

[lovelyrocker]

Consequences Part 2

RPF

Warnings: Talk of Cheating, STD, Language, Angst, 

Parings: Timothee Chalamet x Reader

Word Count: 1,244

Two weeks was how long you had to wait for the test results to come in. Timothee and you both got tested for every other STD it was possible to get tested for safe measures. He’d only known the extra for several days before he’d slept with her. Not long to know where and who someone had been with. 

Your home was cold the last few weeks. Timothee had been staying in the guest room. You didn't talk to one another aside from one or two words here and there. You could hardly look at him. All of the feeling and rage that you thought you’d pushed aside when you found out he cheated was filling you now. Yes, when you found out he cheated you cried and was pissed. But those feelings quickly faded when you saw how much his actions were eating him alive. You saw that it really was a mistake and he learned from it. You had no doubt that he would never do that again.

Now you were enraged that he could even think of cheating, even if he was drunk. You were betrayed and so hurt. And now, you are terrified of having this disease. This constant reminder of someone else’s careless actions. Someone who was supposed to love, take care of you, keep you safe.

You both sat in the doctor’s office in front of the desk, waiting for him to come into the room. Waiting, more waiting. Timothee’s leg bounced with anxiety. He fiddled with his fingers as he absentmindedly looked around the office. He was scared. But unlike all the other times you would hold him and assure him it would be okay, you didn’t. Because you didn’t know. You weren’t even sure you were going to stay with him after this. Deep down he knew that, too.

The door opened, making both of you jump as the doctor walked in. “Good morning.” The doctor said cheerfully. It made you roll your eyes. “I have both your test results here.” He said placing two folders on his desk. He looked up at the two of you. “Are you sure you want to do this together? Normally we do this separately.”

“We’re sure.” Timothee answered, rubbing the palms of his hands nervously on his jean clad knees.

“Alright then,” He opens the file. “We’ll start off with Ms. Y/L/N.” He looks over the paper in his hand. You’re holding on to your bag tightly, heart racing. “All of your STD panels came back negative.” You and Timothee both exhale in relief as the doctor’s eyes scan the page. “No HIV or anything like that.” He looks up at you. “You are a little anemic so I would make sure you get more iron in you. You can get over the counter supplements.” 

You nod your head. “Okay.” You take another breath. “Is that all?”

“Yeah. You are a very healthy young lady.” He placed the paper into the folder and grabs Timothee’s. “Now Mr. Chalamet.” He lifts the page out of the manilla folder. “Your STD panel came back inconclusive.” 

“Inconclusive? What does that mean?” You ask before Timothee can open his mouth. 

“Most of your results came back negative.” The doctor explains. “But Your HIV results aren’t clear.”

You reach over, taking Timothee’s hand, entwining your fingers. He squeezed you hand with both of his. “So, what do we do?” You ask, looking at the doctor.

“We will do another blood draw. Retest.” The doctor looks at Timothee. “I’ll be honest with you,” His hand tightens around yours. “You have some abnormalities with your white blood cell count. Have you been sick lately?”

Timothee shakes his head. “Just tired. With my work, I-I-”

“You could just be overworked.” The doctor looks over the page again. “I don’t want to take any chances. We will do another blood draw and run a few other tests.” The doctor closes the folder. “Do you have any questions?”

Timothee swallows hard and looks at you then back to the doctor. “Can you not sugar coat it?” He says finding his voice. “What are the odds I'm infected?”

The doctor takes a breath, removing his glasses. “It is harder for a woman to give it to a man, but you admit to not using protection. All it takes is one time.” He exhales again. “But your white blood cell count shows something is going on. The results do align with being infected, yes.” You felt Timothee go rigid. “Even though you haven’t passed it to Y/N doesn’t mean you are in the clear. But these results can mean a dozen other things as well. Is it probable because you were exposed, yes. Is it 100% positive, no.” 

“When does he get retested?” You ask.

“Right now.” The doctor stands. “Follow me and I’ll show you to the lab.”

You hold his hand as you follow the doctor and watch him squint when the nurse sticks the needle into his arm. You drive back to the apartment, Timothee showing no sign of emotions the entire drive. He doesn’t talk or even look your way. He doesn’t comment about your results or even look away from the car window. 

When you got home, he walked into the apartment and straight to the guest room. You followed him, opening the bedroom door. He was laying in the bed, back to the door. You didn’t say anything. You crawled into the bed behind him and wrapped your arms around him. The moment you embraced him he broke. The tears fell down his face as he sobbed hysterically. You didn’t say a thing, just held him. Timothee cried until he had nothing left in him. No tears, no energy to let his body be wracked with his own fear and self-loathing. 

When he finally calmed, he just laid there with no emotion on his face. You still stayed silent. You just let him know you were still there by holding him tight, as close as you could. 

The room had been quiet for a long time, you thought he’d fallen asleep. You were surprised when you heard his voice groggily speak. “I’m sorry.” He says, barely audible. “I’m sorry I fucked everything up.” He turns in your arms and his eyes are puffy and red. He looks exhausted. You fight the tears that you know he can see fill your eyes. “We were supposed to be together forever. Just you and me. We were supposed to have a family and grow old in the city.” He begins to cry again. “I messed it all up and I am so fucking sorry.”

You pull him till your foreheads meet. “Shh.” You whisper. “Stop it.” You wipe away his tears. “You’re not alone.” I pull him close, tucking his head beneath my chin. “I’m here, with you.” You kiss the top of his head. “I’m not going anywhere.” You feel him hold you tighter.

You could feel the fear pulsing through him. Before you were ready to leave Timothee, to let him and his cheating self, deal with the consequences of his action on his own, all alone. Which was how you felt when he first cheated. Alone.

In your arms now were the broken pieces of the love of your life. And there was no way in hell you were going to leave him alone. No matter what.

Part 3

[saradobiebauer]

I know you're all screaming for Chapter 3 of "Luck of the Not-Irish," but in the meantime, I wanted to let you know my new novel came out today.

As some of you know, "Fate of the Moon" is based on a Charmie fan fiction, but there are some serious plot changes this time around. It's still Armie and Timmy, though, just with different names.

Check it out for some veiled Charmie love today ha >> https://www.amazon.com/Fate-Moon-Sara-Dobie-Bauer-ebook/dp/B0BRVXBBV4/

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

In Your Dreams

Moodboard by @softhecreator

Chapter Three: Would It Really Kill You If We Kissed?

AO3 info one two three four five six seven epilogue

All my work is 18+.

I know you don’t belong, I know you  don’t belong to anyone. No, you can’t be tamed, love. And maybe I was wrong, maybe I was wrong for this, but you feel like the sun on my face.- All Time Low, Favorite Place

She was dreaming again. 

Lately, most of her Tim-related dreams were sexual in nature, and this one was no different. Of course, she could only really recall what was said and the actions they took rather than any actual sensations. 

Her head was bobbing in his lap as he sat on one of his couches, her tongue laving over the barbels in his shaft.

“Fuck, Lea,” he grunted before pulling her mouth off his dick and into his lap. “Lemme have you, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” she giggled.

“C’mon,” Tim muttered, aligning himself with her. “One last time, baby. C’mon.”

“One last time?” she questioned. “What’re you talking about?”

“Won’t get to do this anymore, even in dreams,” he breathed as he pulled her down onto him. “Fuck, that’s it. Bounce on it for me.”

She was too distracted by his body and general presence to question him further and did as she was told, and—like always—only really dreamed of the words between them.

“I love you, Lea,” he groaned into her mouth. “I love you so much.”

“Dream-Tim is the best,” she told him with a grin. “Wish I could have this all the time.”

“It’s me,” he insisted. “It’s me, baby. I’m real. You can have this whenever you want. If you want this, just fuckin’ tell me.”

“Don’t distract me from how hot you are with your dream-fantasy shenanigans,” Lea told him, running her hands over his bare chest.

“Dammit,” he moaned. “Fuck it, I’ll take what I can get.”

The dream faded away, morphing into his bedroom, where they lay tangled together amongst his sheets.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I love you more than anything in the world.”

Flushing despite the knowledge that it was a dream and therefore not the slightest bit real, Lea buried her face in his neck. “You’re a dork even when I dream you up, huh?”

He hummed, but didn’t respond directly. “You won’t forget me, will you?”

She pulled back, looking up at him with a frown. “What’re you talking about now?”

“When I’m gone,” he clarified, “I don’t want you to forget me.”

“What, you mean when you’re traveling or something?”

Even in her dreams, he still gave her that sad smile. “Or something, yeah.”

“No, I won’t forget you,” she told him slowly. “Though you should know that since you’re in my head.”

“Good,” he murmured, kissing her again. “I’m not in your head the way you seem to think, though.”

“Eh.” She waved him off. “Dream semantics.”

Tim looked at her for a long while before quietly asking, “Will you miss me?”

She blushed, burying her face in his neck again. “I always miss you. Whenever you’re not with me, I miss you.”

He wrapped her in his arms, kissing her temple.

“Why’re you asking me weird things, anyway?” she wanted to know.

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart,” Tim said. “Just let me hold you.”

“Uh.” She blinked. “Okay then.”

His arms tightened around her, and he held her closer.

It was late at night in the middle of June when she got his text.

Her phone buzzed from where it sat on her bed, and she went to pick it up.

Tim

Come to the park with me ?

She frowned, wondering why he was randomly asking her to meet him somewhere so unusual. Still, she didn’t have anything else to do. She wasn’t visiting her mom back in North Carolina until the following month.

When?

He texted her back almost immediately.

Now, if you can.

She was always excited to see him, and she hadn’t seen him at all since May, too, so she squirmed happily as she replied. 

Okay! See you in a bit!

Lea managed to get ready in record time, pairing the ruby heart necklace and earrings he’d gotten her with a white ruffled top and bubble skirt from Saks.

She shot him a quick text that she’d see him in a bit, and then she skipped out the door.

——

She never got tired of hanging out with Tim. He was most definitely her best friend by that point.

He was sitting on a bench in Central Park when she found him.

“Hi,” she said with a grin, plopping down next to him on the bench.

“Hey,” he greeted, and then he looked over at her, turning towards her in the process, and she saw…

What the fuck?

He looked… well, he looked dilapidated, frankly. He’d always kinda looked nineteenth century orphan-esque, but now… now he looked starving. Starving and very, very sick. He was skinnier than normal—which was saying a lot, ‘cause he was already thin as a rail—and his cheeks were sunken in. His eyes were sunken, too, with dark circles under them, and his skin was even more pallid than it had been when she’d seen him last.

“Tim?” she asked tentatively. “Are you okay? You look like you should be in the hospital, not hanging out with me.”

He smiled at her slightly, his eyes sad. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“You look sick,” she pointed out, brow furrowing in concern.

“I know,” he said with a soft, barely-there chuckle. “Sorry you gotta see my sorry ass looking so awful. I’m sure it’s unpleasant.”

Lea shook her head with a frown. “No, I’m always happy to see you, I’m just worried.”

He sighed, leaning his head back against the bench.

“Don’t worry about me. Told you that before.” He sounded out of breath, almost.

“If I looked the way you do right now, would you worry about me?”

“Of course I would, sweetheart,” he muttered. “No way around that.”

“Then it’s hardly fair of you to not expect the same of me.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose not.”

“And wouldn’t you want me to tell you what was wrong if I was sick?”

Tim was silent for several moments before softly repeating, “Of course I would.”

“Then you should tell me, too, don’t you think?”

He sighed. “I’m sick, Lea.”

“Are you, y’know, getting treatment?”

Another sigh. “It’s terminal.”

Her mouth fell open in shock. “Terminal as, in, like— you can’t mean you’re—“

“I’m dying, yes.” He said it with such nonchalance that she wasn’t even sure if he was serious, but he didn’t laugh orsay he was joking, so he had to be serious, right?

Still, she hopefully said, “You’re joking, right? C’mon, tell me you’re joking.”

He looked at her sidelong. “No, I’m not joking. I asked you to come here so I could see you amongst the flowers when I went.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re dying now?!” 

He nodded slightly, a small dip of his chin. “Wanted to be next to you for it.”

“But— but why?” she asked brokenly. “Why are you dying? When did this happen? Why me?”

He stared at her with those sad eyes. “I’ve been dying since I met you.” She opened her mouth to speak, and he added, “It’s not your fault, and I wouldn’t change a thing if I had the choice. I’m happy I got to meet you. I’d do it a million times over. I just wish I’d had more time with you.”

“I don’t understand,” she said tearfully. “I don’t know what I’ve done to… to make you so sick, but—“

“No point in dancing around it, I suppose,” Tim mused. He watched her for a moment, considering. “I’m an incubus.”

She blinked at him. “A— a what?”

An exhausted smile. “An incubus, darling.”

“A demon who feeds on…” she trailed off, too embarrassed to say the words aloud. 

“Sex and orgasms, yes,” he confirmed with a tired sigh.

“Oh, well, um…” She recalled the dreams she’d had, the inexplicable pull she felt towards him, his strange ability to disappear. “I kinda figured you were a fae, but that… makes sense, actually.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You believe me?”

She shrugged. “You can just poof in and out of places. Plus, the dreams—“ she cut herself off. 

His lips split in a slow, lazy smirk. “The dreams? If I had more time, I’d insist you tell me what you remember from them.” Lea blushed bright red, and he laughed softly.

“You’re very sick, Tim,” she said instead of answering him. “If you need, uh…” A gulp. “Someone in order to get better, then I know there’s countless people who would jump at the opportunity—“

“Won’t work,” he cut her off with another sigh.

She blinked at him. “What? Why? I doubt anyone would even mind the whole life-sucking issue.”

“Suppose I should explain this to you.” He exhaled. “We don’t take anyone’s life force. I don’t even know where that idea came from. We actually prolong the lives of those we feed on.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You do?”

Tim nodded. “It’s possible for a human to survive indefinitely if one of us is feeding on them regularly. We’re symbiotic rather than parasitic.”

“Well… you should have no issues finding meals, then, if they have nothing to fear.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” He looked away from her, gazing out at the trees surrounding them. “Finding a meal isn’t the issue. The issue is it no longer has any effect. I’ve tried plenty of times.”

“No effect?” she asked, concerned for this strange new friend she’d made these past few months. “So what, you’ll just starve?”

He hummed. “It would seem so.”

Tears prickled at the back of her eyes again. “I… I don’t want you to die, Tim.”

He turned his gaze to her once more. “I don’t mind it, really.”

She furrowed her brow. “You don’t want to live?”

“Of course I do,” he nodded, “but I don’t really mind the idea of dying.” At her shocked expression, he chuckled. “I have lived a very long time, Lea. Death doesn’t scare me.”

It was several seconds before she recovered from her shock. “And just like that, you’re fine with it being over?”

“Well,” Tim chuckled, “I’d certainly prefer to stay alive, but…” he paused, his eyes warm with affection as he gazed at her. “But if I’m going to die, I want it to be while I’m looking at the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Is that the real reason you asked me to come out with you today?” she asked. “So you could flirt?”

He smiled softly. “If you like.” 

His breathing was shallow, and his voice was breathless.

He was going to die. He was very close now.

“I don’t want you to die, Tim,” she said again tearfully. “Why… why can’t you eat? Is there anything I can do?”

Another sweet, gentle smile. “Nothing I could ask you for.”

Her heart leapt with frantic relief. “So there is something I can do!” Eager to help, she clasped his hand in hers, not really registering that his breathing evened out at her touch. “Tell me. Tell me so I can help you.”

“Alright,” he agreed reluctantly, his voice a bit stronger than it had been before. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you.” He took a deep breath. “Most human women can’t have the child of an incubus. They’ll waste away if they try. But there is an occasional woman who can. These women are our mates, intended for a specific one of us, should they accept what we have to offer.”

“Which is?” she prompted, though she had no idea how this could relate to her at all.

He stared at her thoughtfully before saying, “Safety, wealth, happiness, children, more pleasure than they can comprehend, and an eternity of worshipful adoration and love.”

Jealousy towards his mate—whoever she was—swirled in her stomach, acidic and burning, her hand tightening around his unintentionally. “But why does that mean you can’t feed?”

“Once we meet our mates,” Tim began, “we can’t feed from anyone else. If they don’t accept us in time, we will starve.”

“So she rejected you?” she asked, shocked.

He shook his head. “I haven’t been rejected. I haven’t said anything about it until now.”

“Then you should tell her!” Lea insisted, standing up abruptly. “Tell me where she is, and I’ll tell her myself. I’m not letting you die, stupid. I—“

“Lea.” He grabbed her hand again. When she looked down at him in surprise, his expression was resigned and fearful all at once. “It’s you. You’re my mate.”

Tag list

@ellamaianderson @shika1200 @blackqueenstarseed1 @gatoenlaciudad @esmaada @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @softhecreator @timolaurence @timmymyluv @oddlyenoughiamweird @leecrunchybones @s-we-e-t-t-ea @almostg @leespparker @bubblebuttwade @glizzymcguirex @starberry-cake

To be added, please ask 💗

[destielholmes]

DARKNESS 6 - Part 2

                                                              6

It was getting warmer by the second, my t-shirt was starting to glue to my body, and I just wanted to rip my jacket off. Isaac remained next to me, which confirmed his family was behind his appearance. I was happy he engaged with my little conversation – even if it was just a bit, even if his family made him be by my side – it still made me happy.

While I was struggling with my inability to control my discomfort from the heat and thought Isaac's little stay would end after I had my lunch, he proved me wrong as he told me to follow him outside. I tried to hide my sweating body from my parents as we walked outside. The faint breeze hit my face, which made me melt. I opened my jacket slightly to welcome it in, but it wasn't enough to satisfy my dehydrating body. The taste of the sweetness of the air made me want much more. I want to show you something. He told me as he watched me dissolve within the breeze. Heat wasn't a concern anymore, as he captivated me. I followed him, keeping a safe distance, afraid to scare him off with my voice or annoy him with my figure, I remained invisible. I wanted to explore his little world.

Through the trees we've been that same morning, skipping the blood that the ground drank, he took me away from my safety and closer to my desire. We walked for a while, the same skinny trees kept the landscape on our horizon, but I didn't know anymore where we were. I was lost in that forest, with only my captor to lead me out.

Whilst the fog seemed to be long gone, the heat kept rising, and I couldn't keep my composure. I had to show him again the marks he left on me, and I was afraid he would leave me. I took my jacket quietly, not to disturb his newfound patience. I tied my enemy to my waist and kept the pace. This far away from the house my parents wouldn't see.

When the trees started to fade a new place came to view. Much like my little friend, back at the old house, this one also shone to the sun. But unlike my little friend, Isaacs friend was much bigger, tranquil and unmoving. Down in a small quarry, surrounded by trees, was a lake. The water wasn't pristine blue, but I could still perceive the fish swimming around. A wooden deck was built at the side we came up through, which had a few things laying around, asserting it wasn't abandoned. Isaac helped me down past the rocks and to the lonesome deck. Down there, the air stood still, no wisp of breeze, only peace remained.

Isaac pulled off his shirt, forcing me to stop my cheeks from redden, averting my eyes from him. One more minute and you'll melt. He jumped in the greenish water, making it come to life. He wasn't wrong, I almost looked like I had already disturbed the quiet lake.

I took the jacket away from my waist and dropped it with the rest of the clutter, like he did, and jumped after him. The water wasn't too cold, just enough to take my warmness away. I opened my eyes to see the greenness void. I felt his movements though the waives he made. If I could've held my breath longer, I would have felt all of them. I came up to the surface where Isaac was waiting for my approval. I giggled with ecstasy, and he smiled – for the first time. I made certain to carve it into my memory, so I wouldn't forget this moment. He made me want to live so I could hope for another moment like that.

He turned around, diving into the new movement of the water; I followed. I'd dived deep into it, so I could touch the ground, to understand that it was real. Resurfacing with a found spirit of existence, I let out a scream of joy, that was answered with another scream from Isaac. It was pure bliss, another human communicating with me. Could I be normal too? I felt butterflies in my belly, coldness at the surface of my skin, I felt the air I was breathing... I was alive.

We laughed at our stupidness. I danced in the water, as the leaves danced in the air. I forgot about me.

I couldn't tell how long we stayed floating around, I wondered if I could stay there forever, but my wrinkled-up fingers told me no.

Isaac helped me out of the water, as the weight of my clothes pulled me back in.

I told him that was the most thrilling thing I've ever done. He smiled and handed me a chair. We sat in the sun's direction, waiting for the heat to hunt us again. We felt like completely different people. I wondered if he would let me be his friend. I stole a glimpse of him – water drops shining with the sunlight, glued to his body, others fleeing to the wooden floor. The image of the innocent young boy was being erased from my mind, replaced with him. His cut curls, his new framed features, his frowning face, his muscly body, his pleasant voice... I wanted to drown within him and his peculiarity.

I'm sorry. He spoke. I would have responded if I wasn't drunk with him. The bruises. He clarified. I wasn't sorry. They would keep you with me for as long as they dwelt. I told him not to worry, that I would keep them away from my parents.

He explained that it wasn't his intention to hurt me. I was afraid. He murmured.

I smiled, amused at his statement, and asked if he was afraid of me. He looked back at me – of course.

I pushed him for a reason, and although he didn't want to respond at first, he eventually told me. You took away my freedom.

Copyright © 2023 DestielHolmes.  All rights reserved.

Author's note: Thank you for reading! Btw I've edited all chapter on wattpad and fixed some spelling errors. I encourage you to read it all again because it's been a while too. Don't forget to support the story, like and comment. I would also appreciate if you could vote on the chapters on wattpad. Thank you!!

          ← 2.5                               MASTERLIST                                2.7 →

[cocosstories]

Should I make a list of the boys/characters i will write for?

let me know

[nepentheansea]

・𝘴𝘬𝘺𝘦'𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵・

© nepentheansea all works are my own and contain mature content! 

do not repost, write off as your own, or translate. Feedback appreciated 🍋 love ya <3

𝘚𝘬𝘺𝘦 | 𝘴𝘩𝘦/𝘩𝘦𝘳 | 20𝘴 | 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 | 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯 | 𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘯 10 | 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳 & 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳

☀ 𝑳𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔

𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘗𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦

𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘭 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦

☀ 𝘙𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴

𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦

𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘖𝘧 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦

𝘊𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴

ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴇᴅ ᴅɪᴀʀɪᴇs

𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐇𝚰𝐅𝐓𝐒

☀𝑴𝒚 𝑶𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔

𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 & 𝘍𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘩 & 𝘚𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘺

𝘚𝘭𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯 𝘉𝘰𝘺 𝘚𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘳 𝘛𝘰𝘮 𝘙𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘗𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

☀𝑴𝒚 𝑳𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔

♡𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘴 𝘑𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘰𝘯 ♡𝘚𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 '𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵' 𝘙𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺 ♡𝘛𝘰𝘮 𝘎𝘭𝘺𝘯𝘯-𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘦 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘍𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘗𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘊𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘺 ♡𝘌𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘙𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘎𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 ♡𝘚𝘭𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴

[paradisepout]

Timmy winning awards for playing both roles would be iconic 👏🏾 😅

Nadia 📢 we need to talk about that Timothee Chalamet look alike contest drama. Like I know there was football and formula 1 but this was far more enjoyable

Sports RPF but it's between two twinks that competed in the Timothee Chalamet Lookalike Competition. I'm gonna write and then turn it into a feature film where the real Timothee Chalamet plays both parts and wins the Oscar for Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor.

[lokisgoodgirl]

hi fav writer - I have a question :)

Saw that you're also a fan of Timothee Chalamet (so am I haha) and now I'm wondering if you like Dune and Paul Atreides? Do you read or write fro him too?

have a lovely day

Hiiiii love! Good LORD do I LIKE DUNE?!??! Girl I BREATHE Dune 🤣😂 I had a Dune-dad who got me into the series when I was young, and so ofc when the first movie came out we went to see it and I was a GONER from the moment Chalamet smouldered his way onto the screen. Sitting between my dad and husband like an absolute whore. So YES! I love Dune. Massive nerd. Come talk to me about what makes the ornothopter engines fly (SPOILER: It's a giant mollusc)

I don't write for Paul, because my brain can't handle more than one fictional boyfriend at a time and that space is occupado at the moment. Plus, I'm not sure what that would look like. Lots of sand in awkward places. If I ever did go down that road I'd probably make a new account, I wouldn't want to bombard anyone with something they didn't sign up to 🤣 Plus - I feel like I'd mention too much nerdy shit. You don't need my Dune nerd shit when you're trying to be horny. Like the mollusc thing. BUT IF I DID.....Here's some oneshots you could expect from Paul Atreides x Reader

All the smutting smut with Paul on a sandworm. Absolutely. Ultimate danger-fuck.

Prescient wankst

Cockwarming and trying not to sweat as he fucks you in the stillsuits (logic be damned)

Gom Jabbar except he eats you out

Kriss knife fight to the death for your honour

xx

[septimaseverinaficrec]

Info & Quick Access

This blog is my fan fiction rec blog. None of these stories are mine. I DO NOT OWN AND WRITE ANY. Canon Male Characters x F!Readers and some GN!Readers. Because I want to escape from real, mad and chaotic world for a while with my blorbo.

All of them are rated G -> E (Mixed). Please consume with responsiblity.

Below 17 DNI please.

Blorbo

Game of Thrones | House of the Dragon

Oberyn Martell

Daemon Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Star Wars

Cassian Andor

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Din Djarin

Tolkien Elves

Mirkwood Elves

Legolas | Thranduil

House of Feänor

Feänor | Maedhros | Maglor

Others

Finrod | Glorfindel | Ecthelion | TROP!Elrond

Assassin's Creed

Altaïr Ibn-La'ahad

Ezio Auditore

Arno Dorian

Jacob Frye

Dilfs

Emperor Cleon (Apple TV Foundation)

Thomas Shelby

Luca Changretta

David Tennant's Characters

10th Doctor | 14th Doctor

Crowley

Alec Hardy

Tom Sturridge's Charaters

Dream of the Endless

Jake (Bittersweet)

Nicholas Hoult's Characters

Robert Montague Renfield

Tom Hiddleston's Characters

Loki Laufeyson

Prince Hal/Henry V

Thomas Sharpe

James Nicholls

Robert Laing

Jonathan Pine

Will Ransome

James Conrad

Orlando Bloom's Characters

Paris of Troy

Timothee Chalamet's Characters

Willy Wonka

Prince Hal/Henry V

Pedro Pascal Characters

Javi Gutierrez

Dieter Bravo

Javier Peña

Joel Miller

Bridgerton

Anthony Bridgerton

Benedict Bridgerton

???

Sherlock Holmes (BC)

[meetmyothersouls]

Posting some Halloween prompt fics tomorrow evening!

Stay tuned!