#((but if nicholas pushed it that far-particularly if he tried to lay a hand on emily? he'd cut him to ribbons!))

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"Is she now?" Callahan asked with a little smile, leaning against the table as Lon nodded eagerly, saying, "Uh-huh! It's gonna be a big chocolate bat, with candy eyes and vanilla chocolate chips for fangs! It's gonna be really cool! She made us a pumpkin one last year!"

"Pumpkin, huh? Your pa or your grandpa ever tell you the tale of Stingy Jack?" "Uh-huh! We even carved turnips last year! It was kinda weird, though. I like pumpkins better."

"Have you ever...tasted pumpkin before?" August ventured to ask, at which the boy made a bit of a face, saying, "Like...pumpkin pie?"

"That's one way, but...pumpkin has a lot of applications when it comes to cooking. Pumpkin bread, roasted pumpkin seeds, even pumpkin soup. Your great-grandmother Josephine has quite a few recipes for it."

"Ick!" Lon frowned, sticking his tongue out in response to this-he didn't even much like pumpkin pie, so the idea of pumpkin anything else wasn't all that appealing: As far as he was concerned, pumpkins were only good for carving and throwing guts around with his sister, not so much eating.

"I...I like pumpkin pie."

Both August and Callahan were surprised to hear Erika speak up-in some ways, she looked just as surprised at her own bravery, what with her big eyes and glowing cheeks. Still, it made both men smile, with August venturing to ask, "Is it your favorite flavor of pie?"

"No...I like peach cobbler best."

"Well, Josie has a recipe for that too," he chuckled. "And I think she'd be thrilled to make it for you."

[ticklishtimothee]

giggly mornings (timothée chalamet x reader)

summary: a lazy morning full of laughter with timothée.

a/n: this is my first attempt at writing a reader insert so i’m totally up to constructive criticism!! i hope you guys enjoy this xx

words: 1,015

Timothée is just so fucking adorable, okay?

You know this, of course, but he never ceases to amaze you with just how cute he can be. With you, he is not Elio or Nicholas or Kyle; he’s not even the incredibly talented and sexy actor Timothée Chalamet; he’s just Timmy. goofy, silly, awkward, fun, and loving Timmy, with his messy hair and soft lips.

It’s an early New York morning in your shared apartment, sunlight streaming through the windows. You are laying on your back in bed, and he’s snuggled up to your side, his head resting on your shoulder. The sheets are tangled around his waist, his long legs nearly dangling over the end of the mattress. He looks like a fucking Renaissance painting, but you know it’ll be creepy if you just sit there and ogle him all day.

“Mornin’,” you mumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

He hums in acknowledgment, still far too sleepy to form a coherent reply. You look at him with fond eyes, and start to play idly with his long, dark curls, and he lets out a small, content sigh.

“That feels nice,” he mumbles, curling closer to you as if that’s even possible, finally gaining the strength to speak as his eyes flutter open, squinting against the light.

You chuckle softly, your fingers trailing from the crown of his head and down his neck, sending goosebumps over the skin as he gasps ever-so-slightly. Now you can’t help but smirk, your touch impossibly light as you trace his collarbones, relishing in the way he wriggles slightly.

He’s not exceptionally ticklish—at least, not quite as bad as you, but it really isn’t a hard task to get him giggling.

And giggle happens to be exactly what he begins to do as your fingers trail closer to his underarm, skittering against his soft skin teasingly, and his high-pitched, goofy giggle spills from his lips, just like the sunlight through the curtains of the bedroom.

You can’t help but laugh too, amused at his reactions to such a gentle touch, and even more amused by the fact that he doesn’t shy or squirm away, but rather leans into you even more, as if he can convince you to stop with the way his breath ghosts against your jaw or the way his legs brush against yours as he fights to keep himself from kicking and flailing out.

You found out he was ticklish pretty early into your relationship−well, you’d had your suspicions after those few scenes in Call Me By Your Name, but didn’t confirm them until the third time you two were...intimate, and you dragged your nails down his sides, resulting in a sharp intake of air. When you asked him if he was alright, he had nodded fervently.

“Just ticklish,” he had explained, blushing.

It hadn’t really been the right time to test that theory, but you remembered to try it out the next morning, and you certainly weren’t disappointed in the results. Your hand is at his ribs now, taking time to trace each bone with the tips of your fingers, and his giggles melt into quiet wheezes and squeaks as he lazily tries to bat you away to no avail.

“You’re mean,” he whines, eyes squeezed shut, his brows knitted together as he tries to keep his composure, and his cheeks have flushed a deep pink color, whether from the efforts to hold back his laughter or the embarrassment at his sensitivity, you can’t tell, but either way, it’s precious.

“Oh, really?” you ask, grinning as you tweak at his side, watching him jerk away and watching the way his waist curves and returns to its original position. He’s too beautiful for his own good; you have no choice but to touch him. It’s not your fault he’s so sensitive. “You think I’m mean?”

“Yes!” he replies, and finally, as you dive to grab at his hip bones, he rolls away with a loud laugh, having always been particularly ticklish there. “So mean!” he manages to say between laughs, nearly tumbling off the bed in his attempts to escape your playful torture.

You stop your attack like the gracious partner that you are, letting him catch his breath. However, you should have known that he would never let you get away with such tricks without some form of revenge.

Anticipation prickles against your skin as you see the mischievous, predatory glint start to form in his eyes as he moves back to his original position at your side.

You could always try to make a run for it, but there’s no use—he’ll catch you eventually in this tiny apartment, and you’re in no state to go out the front door dressed in near-nothing. Plus, you can’t say you’re really complaining.

He’s clambering atop your waist within seconds, and he’s light enough that it doesn’t hurt, but he’s definitely got you pinned and at his mercy.

“Payback!” he cries, laughing along with you as he tickles at your stomach, a bit harsher than you had been with him, but oh well. All is fair in love and war, after all.

Your laughter mixes with his like the harmonies of a song, a song that sadly must end, because oxygen is much needed for you both, but a beautiful song at that.

You lay panting, smiling beside him.

He turns his head to look at you, before leaning in to press your lips together.

You wrinkle your nose and push him away. “Morning breath,” you explain to his hurt expression.

He puts on a fake yet well-acted pout, reaching out on hand to tickle your belly again, and you bat him away with a squeal.

“Okay, okay, I’ll kiss you!”

He grins triumphantly and presses his lips against yours softly, and despite your previous complaints, you melt into it easily, cupping his face in your palm. you lay there, kissing for what feels like forever, although forever could never be long enough to spend like this.

He is so fucking adorable, and you feel so fucking lucky.

[hhemeraa-a]

Part 1 - Beginnings, Connections, & Emotions

         “You can’t kill him.”         “What.”         “You heard me, no death.”         “Then give me a gun.”         “No, we gotta be quiet, I didn’t bring one.”         “Then let me go back to the car.”         “No, no guns.”         “Then you’re asking too much of me.”         “It’s—it’s a knife, I’m pretty sure you can just do some… ninja shit, just don’t kill ‘em.”         “Troy, you don’t understand, I’m not—I’m not good with hand to hand—“         “Pfft don’t be so modest Myles—“         “You’re not listening, this is an 8inch tactical knife, they use this in jungles Troy. If I stab him, I’m going to kill him.”         “Aim for the unimportant bits.”         “Troy, who exactly do you think I am?”         “I believe that you’re skilled enough to not kill him. ”         “No, I’m a marksmen. I specialize in sharp shooting, distance fighting. Give me a gun and I’ll make sure he lives, hand me a knife and all you’re asking for is--”         “I think you’re too hard on yourself, it’s not like your brother is coming.“         “I— what?”         “Come on, just give ‘em a good ol’ poke to the side. Afterwards, we gotta pick up—“         Troy began to lean out the window to catch a view of the side of the building, when feet slipped and he nearly tumbled out. Instinctually, a hand snapped out and Myles caught hold of the hem of his pants, fear clear as day in his eyes as feet skidded across the smooth wood floors until they slammed against the wall.         Troy was not light.         Myles was not heavy.         It took a moment before Myles could muster up the strength to start and pull the man back up and Troy’s face popped up and over the window railing just to fall sprawled out onto the floor. His arms felt like jelly and the room filling with the sound of their heavy breathing when he hears the other snort. It was the only thing that stopped Myles from unloading a mouth full of insults.

        “What?”         “I just…”         “What is it?”         “Hahahaha—“         “What??”         “No no that’s… that’s just… I didn’t think your tiny arms would have been able to hold me hahahaha, I was really prepared to hit the ground there—ow, ow, stop it, I’m SORRY HAhahaha stOP.”         Myles wanted to push him out of the window again, face deadpanning in annoyance, but a large warm hand rustled against his hair with a smile that lit up the room.         “Thanks Myles.”         “…it’s nothing…”         “Aye man, you look stressed.”         “Well when your dumbass decides to lean out a third story window, it tends to cause extreme amounts of stress for the people around you. Anything over 10 feet can kill you Troy, fucking idiot.“         “Saving my life, is that it? Were you worried~?”         “…I’m leaving you here, you can walk home, knife and all.”         “Hahaha come on, don’t be like that, I have a date.”         “With that pharmacist? Nurse... or something.”         “His name is Nicholas and yeah.”         “Mmm…”         There was silence as they stood, brushing off their clothes, but Myles could feel something in the air – the conversation wasn’t finished and Troy had this look on his face like he was about to ask something serious.         “I, uh, I really want you to meet him one day. Some day. Uh, soon?”         Eyebrows perked up.         “Is that so?”         “Yeah, I think… I think you’ll like him.”         Troy never brought anyone around Myles unless it was serious, and something in the pit of the blonde’s stomach sank, but face remained rather passive. It was unspoken, but Myles could tell Troy wanted his approval for the people he dated. It was an odd dynamic, one he didn’t particularly like, but he didn’t want to be cut out of that part of his friend’s life.         “Alright, when we’re done here we can—“         “I love him.”         There it was. Abrupt and impromptu as his friend always does with his emotions. This was a test of how well the blonde could control his face.         “…Have you told him?”         “What, with words?”         Myles made to punch Troy and he goofishly cowered away, dramatically putting his hands up in defense. “Myles nooo this is child abusseeee—hahaha ok ok… seriously…” smile faded and he stared at the ground, fingers twisting over themselves as he over thought everything like always, “ no… I… just don’t know how to tell him and I know we’re working right now, but.”                 Troy must really love him.         “You’re so confident with everyone else, what makes him so different?”         “I just… really love him, more than I think I’ve ever loved anyone. Like, more than Jenny from 7th grade.”         “You proposed to her...”         “And she rejected me--”         “…in front of her parents... after a month.”         “Ok so maybe my timing wasn’t right and I was young and stupid, buT that’s why I’m… nervous to say anything. What if I fuck this up?”           “If he’s as great as you say he is, I’m sure… whenever you tell him will be the best moment… but you’re also a fool and I don’t think right now is the time to be having this conversation.”

          Myles had always loved Troy.           In that painful way that made his chest ache, where his face would light up and sparkle just at the sound of his voice or how he could pick him out of a crowded room without a second glance. He knew his favorite food off hand (pineapple) and that he would over compensate for not being able to feel the left side of his chest.  That the scars on his neck embarrassed him or how his smile made the room brighter. It didn’t bother him when Troy pointed out his freckles even though he’d put up the act, or that Troy had a habit of getting to close when he reached for things and that annoying way he would tug at Myles’ ear when he was mad.

          “Do that to your boyfriend.” Myles would snap trying to hold down the red burning at his neck, smacking away at a strong hand that was far too close.           “I do it to people I like.” He’d resume.           ANNOYING Myles would think, but each time he’d let him do it and each time he calmed down.

          Nicholas knew. Not that he said anything about it, but even when they first met and Troy introduced his boyfriend for the first time, Myles could tell with the way that their eyes met that he knew. He didn’t mind, which, Myles thought was rather odd, but welcomed. Perhaps it was because of their dynamic – Myles the long standing best friend and Nicholas the current boyfriend.  It would only hurt Troy if they didn’t get along and both cared far too much to let something as petty as jealousy get in the way. So they tried to get along, and they did. Far better than either had expected. So much so that Troy found it annoying.

          It worked for them.

          “MYLES!”  Soft drunk voice called from the other side of the apartment, Nicholas immediately clinging to the hem of his shirt as soon as he turned.  “Myles,” repeated, this time in a loud whisper.  Nicholas was smashed. “I have a secret to tell you ‘cause yer the bess friend ever, did you know dat???”

        Myles grabbed the man’s waist just before he slipped, dark hair jamming itself into his chest before Nicholas took the lead and held both his hands in his. It had been almost a year and it was the first time he ever touched Troy’s boyfriend. Clear grey eyes blood shot and sparkling up him.         “Nick—“         “DON’T CALL ME THAT, IM” A hand dramatically waved across the air, “Nicholasss”         “…Nicholas, you’re drunk and you need to—are you high?”         “I may have gotten some stuff from the pharmacy and I may be not supposed to do the things with the stuff, I gotta condition, you know dat, but dat ain’t gonna stop me from a goOD TIME.”         “..uh huh… where’s your keeper?”         “Troy? I dunno, he’s, I dunno, throwing up in the bathroom, he’s fine, but shut up, come here, shut up, I have secrets.” Small hands still gripped onto his and dragged him to the couch, tugging as heavily as he could to pull him down onto the cushions. He was thankful that the other was exceptionally weak, even given what little drunk strength he could muster.  Myles could see why they were together and he couldn’t help but be annoyed and happy at the same time.         “Right so, secret.” Lithe frame wiggled itself close, arm draped over his shoulder and leaning in close as if what he could possibly say was the most meaningful thing in the world. “You might know it, ‘cause you’re his best friend which makes you my best friend and, oh gosh, we’re friends right? Cause sometimes you get this look on your face like—YES LIKE THAT. LIKE YOURE ANNOYED.”         Myles burst into a smile – so Nicholas wasn’t as stupid as he looked, he had to give him that.         “I JUST WANNA—you know… be friends and I don’t want you to just… put up with me for Troy’s sake…cause we’ve been together not.. near as long as you and him--” (Myles wondered if this was an ancient form of drunken dialect he was hearing) “         “…this isn’t a very good secret—I’m sorry.”         Nicholas looked like he was about to burst into tears, the rollercoaster of emotions sending him downward.         “IM SERIOUS MYLES.”         “Hahaha I know… You are my friend, Nick.”         “Dun call me that.”         “Well now I have to.”         A sweaty palm pushed against Myles’ face and let out a snort.         “See? If anyone else did that, I’d have stabbed them.”         “You promise?”         “I promise.”         Nicholas clutched at Myles hands again, eyes welling up through a drunken smile.         “Just… don’t cry, if you cry, I’m going to get Troy—“

        “SOMEONE CALL ME.” Troy posed in the doorway dramatically.         “You’re making the face again.” Nicholas snickered before turning to see Troy and gasped. What little distance was between them closed and frail arms flung themselves around the blonde’s neck. “NO, GO AWAY. IM HAVING TIME WITH MYLES.”         “MYLES ARE YOU TRYING TO STEAL NICHOLAS.”         “IM TELLING HIM THINGS, GO AWAY.”         “Things like wat?”         “Like that you believe in ghosts and that one time you ate 27 marshmallows and threw up!”         “BETRAYER!”          Myles felt like he was staring into the void and it was staring back full force. He was surrounded by drunk children and he tried to get up, but Nicholas simply held onto him tighter. Within seconds of their playful bickering (and Myles trying to aggressively finish what was left of his drink), Troy was already on Myles’ opposite side, prepping the couch to lay down across his lap.         “Wait, Troy, no no nonono—“         “IF NICHOLAS CAN CLING TO YA, I GET TO LAY ON YA, ITS ONLY FAI R”         “That’s not how this works—for fucks sake, if you would both geT OFF ME--“         It was too late and as soon as Troy’s face hit his leg, he was out like a light and Nicholas squeezed tighter onto his arm as if this was some competition, face smushed against his shoulder, but even he was started to get droopy. If anyone knew Myles, they would see this as something impossible. Two people attached to him like their lives depended on it within his personal space and he wasn’t even that bothered by it. Well, not much.          “He’s only like this with you, ya know...” Mumbled voice adjusted itself.          Myles silently bristled, the place where Troy’s head lay suddenly feeling like it was on fire.         “…Hey… Nicholas… what was that secret you wanted to tell me?”         “Huh? Secret?” Eyes were glazing over as they closed, resting against with his full weight.         “Secret, secret, secret…”         “You told me you had a secret to tell me?”         “…oh! Oh yeah… yeah…” A long pause.         “Nicholas.”         “ Right... Troy gotta tattoo… just beneath his hip… of an.. .anc h o  r….. really t in y... really small....”         “That’s the secret?”         “Mmmghmhmgmghhmmm…”         Myles grew tight lipped and cursed the drunken shell of a man for even daring to put that thought into his head.

        He silently wondered if he’d ever be able to see it.