#fluff elio

[blank-house]

Very important question. Would the guys tell the other two if they had a crush (generally or at mc specifically)

Also would the other two notice that their friend is falling? Who would be the most likely to notice?

Hmm… maybe not? Elio might but only to Percy— and that’s because he tells Percy everything. But I don’t think the guys would share their crushes. I think they’d only let the others know once they started dating haha

But that being said, I think all three of them could more or less tell if their roommate is starting to crush on someone. They would have their own tells, some more obvious than others lol. And with that said— I think Percy is most likely to notice when his bros are falling!

[tinysupervicki]

“She…appeared in my arms…”

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡Sugar Rush 🍰

You've ordered: an assorted dessert tray! enjoy!

"Have you got a sweet tooth?"

Various Timothèe Chalamet characters x reader | word count: 1,565 words

Summary: just little drabbles about baking with various timmy characters!! 🍰

Warnings: none!

Note: i didn't do every timothèe character, just some of my favorites!

lee (bones and all) (cherry pie) 🥧

baking with lee would be really cute and also very chaotic. he'd hug you from behind as you'd mix the ingredients to make the dough for the pie crust. he'd definitely sneak tastes of the cherries you're using. lee's actually a pretty good cook and really enjoys baking. he'll be at the stove, sautéing the cherries in sugar and vanilla, while you place the crust in a pie tin. once you pour the cherry mix into the crust, he'll stick his finger in what's left over and smear it on your nose, making you gasp and do the same to him. then he'll smear it on your lips just so he has an excuse to kiss you. once the pie's done, you two clean up and enjoy it together while reading comic books or watching a movie.

laurie (little women) (apple tart) 🍎

laurie would be such a sweetheart when baking. he'd insist that he should do all the work and you shouldn't lift a finger. eventually, you convinced him that you two should do it together. you two would find yourselves goofing off rather than baking. he'd throw flour at you and you'd smear butter on the tip of his nose. you two would laugh before finally deciding to take this seriously. laurie would work on the crust and you'd sauté the apples in sugar and cinnamon. laurie would come over and stick a spoon in the gooey apple mix, giving it a try. you swear, you'd see his eyes light up. once the tart's in the oven, you two would clean up, still messing around as you'd cover each other's faces in soap suds. once the tart is baked, you both curl up on the couch with a blanket, laurie reading to you as you two enjoy your sweet creation.

elio (call me by your name) (peach cobbler w/ ice cream) 🍑

i feel like you'd be working on making peach cobbler to surprise him. but it'd be ruined once he hugs you from behind and glances over you, asking what you're making. you'd have to tell him and he'd laugh, finding it incredibly sweet that you're making a dessert for him, with his favorite fruit at that. he'd ask if he could help and you'd happily oblige. much like lee, elio's a rather talented cook, telling you the right amounts of cinnamon and sugar to use, etc. but obviously, he'd see the peaches and cut himself a few slices, snacking on them when you weren't looking. and when you'd catch him, he'd just laugh and offer you a slice, which you happily took. after letting the peaches soak and sauté, he'd help you make the crumble that goes on top. you'd feed each other pieces of it and exclaim about how good it is. you'd sprinkle it on top of the peaches and put them in the oven. i can imagine you putting on some music and you two laughing and dancing around the kitchen together. once it's done baking, elio would go get some ice cream and you two would sit on your balcony, watching the sunset while enjoying the tasty peach dessert.

yule (don't look up) (brownies) 🍫

it was your idea to bake, yule having his arms wrapped around you from behind as you'd get the ingredients together for making brownies. obviously, you two would goof around, yule sneaking chocolate chips into his mouth, or smearing some of the batter on your nose. you'd giggle and kiss his cheek as he took his turn mixing the batter. he'd probably make a joke about setting some batter aside for him to make weed brownies (pls tell me i'm not the only one who can see yule being a stoner-). while the brownies are baking and you're cleaning up, he'd splash you with water and you'd chase after him with a spoon covered in leftover batter. you're finally done cleaning and the brownies are done! you two probably sit in front of the tv, yule having you in his lap while you feast on the brownies, watching a movie together.

paul (dune) (spiced lemon turnovers) 🍋

i feel like specific fruits would be native to arrakis, specifically citrus fruits. with the use of spice in most foods, it makes a delicious combination. you'd be in the kitchen/ food storage area of the freman sietch, being tasked with preparing desserts for whatever event was going on. as you're cutting lemons, you'd hear the door creak open, turning around to see paul. he'd probably make up some excuse, saying he was looking for stilgar and got lost. he'd peek over your shoulder and ask what you're making. he'd be pretty intrigued, asking if he could help you out. once you agree, you'd have him kneed out the dough for you while you finish cutting and crushing the lemons before cooking them with sugar and spice. paul would find it odd that you're adding spice to the dessert, so you'd give him half a spoonful of the lemon filling and he'd be shocked by how good it tastes. he'd stand behind you as you show him how wrap the turnovers. you'd turn around and realize just how close he was standing, his breath hitting your cheek. he'd give you a soft smile and lean over to kiss your forehead, praising you on how talented you were in baking. you'd smile and let him try, some of them coming out great, some of them looking kinda wonky. but it was still great fun to bake with your boyfriend. once they were done, you two took them out to the other freman waiting outside. you'd tell them that paul helped you out and they wouldn't believe you. it would take forever before they'd stop teasing him about the funny looking turnovers.

wonka (wonka) (chocolate chunk cookies) 🍪

wonka was working on making cookies in the main kitchen of the factory (this takes place after the wonka movie!). you'd given him the suggestion to put his chocolate in other things, like cookies or cake. he'd decided that cookies would be rather simple....he found out quickly that they were not. he told noodle to go get you and your jaw dropped when you saw the mess: flour everywhere, sugar in his hair, a bowl of batter sitting there with a spoon in it, and wonka's chocolate wrappers strewn on the floor. you'd laugh, wetting a rag and wringing it out before going up with willy and wiping the flour and butter off of his face. you'd ask him if he needs some help, to which he'd nod, feeling a bit embarrassed. once you've laughed for a bit longer, you help him clean up the kitchen, then gather all the ingredients once again. he'd watch you with sparkling eyes as you'd pour in perfect amounts of sugar and flour and melted butter. he swore you were a magician, to which you'd laugh and agree. you'd have him try mixing the batter and chop up chunks of his chocolate, placing them into the cookie dough. making little balls of dough and placing them on a sheet tray, you'd pop them into the oven, willy standing in front of it like a child. you'd watch with him, gently playing with his hair and talking about whatever. the timer would go off, he'd get so excited as you take them out of the oven. he'd probably bite into one while it's still hot and burn himself, making you giggle a bit. once they'd officially cooled, he'd try one and tell you he should start selling your cookies in his factory. you'd put the cookies in little bags, planning to give them out to noodle and the others later.

hal (the king) (spiced rum cake) 🍰

even though you're the queen of england, you love baking. hal would tell you that the cooks could bake for you or that he'd hire a special pastry chef just for you. he didn't want to see you, his beloved, working too hard. you'd laugh and tell him you rather enjoyed it, that it helped you relax. you'd be in the kitchen, measuring out flour to make a cake. hal would be looking all over the castle for you, until he'd eventually open the kitchen door to see you with some flour on your face. you ask him if he'd want to help you out and he'd say he'll just watch....which ended up being a lie. he practically did everything for you since he was worried you'd cut yourself or burn yourself. you couldn't help but find it rather cute how your husband dotted on you like that. while making the rum soak for the cake, he'd sneak a swig, insisting that you have some too. sooner or later, you two are both a little tipsy, practically baking while drunk. luckily, you had taken the cake out before you two started drinking. he'd wrap his arms around you, pressing a few kisses to your face and mumbling about how great of a baker you are and how he loves you so much. it was cute watching him cut you a slice of the cake and feed you some, the two of you sharing soft kisses between bites. and guess what...the servants were watching from behind the door the whole time!

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[olteacup-writes]

BORED

Percy Tozaki / Gender Neutral MC *can be read as romantic or platonic

-

sum; mc sitting cross-legged on the couch with a pile of hair clips and hair ties in their lap, messing with Percy’s hair, while Percy is sitting on the floor, playing video games (totally not Deja's...)

-

“Can I play with your hair, Percy?”

That one question leads you where you are now, sitting crossed legged on the couch with Percy sitting on the floor, a gaming control set on the floor next to him as he looks across the many games Deja had. You were also preoccupied, looking for inspiration on what to do with his hair before finally picking out a style that you wanted to attempt to try out, zooming in on the photo you leaned down to show Percy. He reached out for your phone and scanned what you were showing him; he gave a brief smirk before nodding at the picture.

“Are you sure you have the abilities to do that though?” he commented with his signature smirk, letting you know that he was just being a tease.

You let out a huff before playfully rolling your eyes at him. “Of course I can, I'm a natural at everything I do!” He let out a chuckle before picking up a video game and showing it to you; you quickly recognized what game it was. You played it not too long ago with Deja on a rainy day; it was also the day you goofed off in the rain… and the day Cameron almost got sick for not wearing any protection from the rain. 

“Good choice.” Lifting up a thumbs up at his decision, he brightened a bit before crawling over to insert the disk into the gaming console. Surely Deja won’t mind if you made a new save for Percy, right? It was for a good cost after all; you got to play with his hair while he got to try out a new game, a win for everyone. Well, everyone besides Deja, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her! After quickly inserting the game, he crawled back over, setting himself right back to his old location.

Grabbing a brush, you started by making sure his hair didn’t have any knots before trying to style it. At first his hair was unsurprisingly smooth and well taken care of. That was until you got to a certain part that seemed to be twisted up in a knot, a small tangled mess in an area above his ear. Judging by the looks of it, it was most likely tangled due to Percy messing with it.

For some reason the hair lock didn’t seem to want to cooperate with you; genteelness didn’t seem to be suited to dealing with it, plus your patience was starting to fade. Running the brush slightly harder didn’t seem to work; in fact, it seemed to make it worse. Seeing as the hairbrush was now combined with the tangled mess, you tried to retrieve the brush with more force and once more before you lost all sense of capability to wait. Tugging the brush as hard as you could without actually using brutal force, you jolted suddenly once Percy groaned in pain.

“Watch the hair, sweetheart." He started caressing the spot that you had so ‘brutally’ yanked, “You’re trying to make me bald, aren’t you? So jealous, this is your way of sabotaging me!” He shot you a teasing glance; once he turned back to his video game, the screen showed a “GAME OVER” sign. Percy sighed as he clicked on the retry button. The game loaded back to where it had saved before Percy died by getting distracted from talking to you.

Rolling your eyes at him, you gave him a cheeky smile before pushing his head down, focusing back on trying to get the mess he had in his hair out. Luckily the brush had been freed from the mess, and not wanting to risk it getting stuck again, you decided on using your fingers to comb through Percy’s hair.

Slowly you started to comb your finger in his hair; the tangled knots in Percy’s hair got caught in between your fingers. Instead of yanking on them as you did with the hairbrush, you simply guided your other hand to help unravel the mess. Under your touch, you felt Percy tense up as you gently tugged and ran your fingers in his hair. A light shiver crept upon him as he relaxed into the soothing touch.

Surprisingly, the method of using your hands seemed to work better than having used the hairbrush to eliminate any kind of knots. As your finger kept caressing and smoothing out any out of place hair strand from Percy’s head, he started leaning into your touch ever so slightly, and before you both knew it, he had found a comfortable position where you had total access to his head. Using your fingers to run down his hair quickened the process and had left Percy and his hair more relaxed.

Running your hands through his hair was also quite fun; as odd as it seemed, it was nice to have your hands occupied in something that didn’t require you to use your brain so much. Instead, it was similar to floating down a lazy river, a somewhat calming experience for both parties. You looked back at your phone, grabbing the essentials you needed to start styling Percy’s hair.

By the time you finished Percy had finished a few levels in the video game he was playing. You examined your work before adding in one final touch, finally deciding you were done. You smiled and praised your work, you shook Percy’s shoulders to get him free from his trance at the screen. He paused the game before he looked up at you, “Finally done? My ass started to hurt a bit, you know.”

He gave you a grin before standing up and making his way to the bathroom to check out what you had done to his hair. You followed after him once you pushed all the materials to your side; you leaned at the doorway when you neared him. “I know, awesome, isn’t it?” you remarked at your ability. You watched as he rolled his eyes at your teasing before nodding. “I do look good, but I think that’s just how I always am. Though you did do a good job, I'll admit.” You brightened at the compliment, completely disregarding what he said before. In short words, you enjoyed playing with Percy’s hair; you got the feeling he also liked it.

-

yayy, a very short fic i made for percy... oh god im gonna be so tired in the morning BUT I DID IT I GOT OUT OF WRITERS BLOCK!!

also if blank house has any problems with this i will remove it as quickly as possible!

[theseshipsshallsail]

Summary:

Thanks to an especially virulent strain of the winter flu, his headstrong boyfriend’s voice crackles and rasps; punctuated by the occasional rattling cough that shakes him to the bones. His skin is pasty. His lips are chapped. Every flash of animation, it seems, comes at a cost of energy he just doesn’t have, and eyeing the general detritus of Kleenex boxes and lozenge wrappers that litter the wooden coffee table, Oliver’s hard-pressed to remember if he’s actually seen him eat.

Elio’s been slouched on their tan three-seater since the first light of dawn: swaddled in an oversized sweatshirt and some plaid pyjama pants as he rifles through various files of staff paper and his ubiquitous notebook. I’d much rather fail at originality than succeed in imitation, he’d declared last Wednesday, lamenting each scathing critique from his pompous review panel, yet much as Oliver appreciates his righteous indignation, his protective instincts can’t help but bristle at the fact he sounds utterly miserable, to boot.

Thanks to an especially virulent strain of the winter flu, his headstrong boyfriend’s voice crackles and rasps; punctuated by the occasional rattling cough that shakes him to the bones. His skin is pasty. His lips are chapped. Every flash of animation, it seems, comes at a cost of energy he just doesn’t have, and eyeing the general detritus of Kleenex boxes and lozenge wrappers that litter the wooden coffee table, Oliver’s hard-pressed to remember if he’s actually seen him eat. 

There’s been plenty of herbal tea to soothe his scratchy throat. Nasal spray. VapoRub. A regular dose of Tylenol from the Walgreens two blocks over. But nothing that falls under the category of food. An untouched plate of toast on the nearby bookcase bears out his suspicions, so Oliver raids the kitchen cupboards for a can of chicken soup, then heats the contents on their gas-powered stove; wincing in sympathy when Elio convulses with a gut-punch sneeze, swearing and hacking in alternate breaths.

Several minutes of snotty sniffing later, Oliver turns off the burner then pours the simple meal into an old Columbia Lions mug: the one Elio’d claimed for his own upon his initial move to the States. The other man’s squinting at a dog-eared composition sheet when he eventually returns to the couch, and Oliver figures his blocked sinus is the culprit as he pinches the bridge of his cherry-red nose; probably trying to banish the cobwebs.

“Scoot up, Patient Zero,” he says, sitting down carefully beside him, and when Elio blinks sluggishly his mercurial eyes are nothing but dull slits of colour beneath his heavy lashes; the light of their freestanding lamp shade apparently too much to bear. “Tell me again how you never get sick?” 

Elio summons a gimlet glare. “I'm not sick; I’m dying,” he groans - the edge of a wheeze rattling the vowels - but he accepts the mug all the same, and Oliver hums indulgently as he sweeps an unholy assortment of balled-up tissues into a neat little pile. 

“Your stubbornness is commendable,” he says, pleased to see Elio make short shrift of the steaming liquid, if not the noodles themselves. “But do yourself a favour and get some rest, yeah?"

“Un mal nécessaire.” A yawn: barely stifled. “I have to finish these -” 

“Not today you don't.” Oliver rescues the mug from his slightly-drooping hand. “Even us creatures of habit deserve a night off.” 

Elio smirks; slow and playful. “Is that so?” he says, nodding at the Sophomore Ontology coursework partially obscuring the living room rug.

Which, yes. Fair enough. But -

“I’m still new to the syllabus,” Oliver replies, nudging him gently with his knee. “Professor Johnson’s lesson plans were shoddy at best. You, however, have a fever of thirty-eight.” As the flush on his sunken cheeks can attest. “So don’t pretend you’re not ready to pass out from exhaustion.”

A grunt is the only acknowledgement he receives, and Oliver’s all set to try a different tack when Elio slumps sideways like a stringless marionette. It’s completely proprietary - the way he claims his unsuspecting lap as an ad hoc pillow - but Oliver’s quick to adopt his role as a piece of human furniture, uncaring of the knobbly shoulder blade digging exorbitantly into his thigh.

Little victories, he decides, and reining in a grin, smooths the messy curls from his maestro’s clammy forehead. 

“Do you need anything else?” he asks instead, the slim column of Elio’s neck spasming amidst his muttered grumblings. “A blanket? Some water? There’s a fresh bottle of vitamins in the bathroom cabinet…”

“Just your support in these harrowing times,” Elio murmurs, the arm around his middle snugging tighter, so Oliver follows his own advice as he drags a knitted Afghan over the curve of Elio's body - fishes a dog-eared copy of The King Must Die from between the sunken cushions - then crosses his legs at the ankles as he settles in for the duration. 

[jar-of-maise]

stellaron hunters found family (i)

Blade thinks to himself for a moment, in truth he has an inkling about the so-called “power” and it’s origin, but keeps it to himself for the present. For now, he contents himself with watching Silver Wolf and Kafka argue. It’s a rather one-sided affair but entertaining to watch nonetheless. 

Sam returns from a mission later and Blade gets the honour to witness one of the duo’s legendary video game duels. It’s fun to watch and Kafka joins him on the couch as the Silver Wolf and Sam battle it out. Sometime, when it’s late in the night and Silver Wolf has finally dozed off, Kafka puts on a movie. It’s an action packed one, with horrid flashing lights and cinematics that has Sam worked up to the nines. 

“That’s not how it works in real life.” He grumbles, pointing at a rather risqué interrogation, “movies aren’t made the same anymore,” he adds unhappily when the following escape scene ends with the lead actor bursting out through a window. 

“Oh well, it’s value is in entertainment. Realism is secondary,” Kafka says delicately, she’s examining her nails carefully though Blade isn’t sure how she is given the dim lighting of the room. 

He hasn’t been paying a lot of attention to the movie, more preoccupied with not moving so Silver Wolf doesn’t wake up since Kafka always insists he be a human pillow. 

“You’re just comfortable Bladie, don’t overthink it,” she once said to him after a mission where she had insisted on sleeping on his shoulder. 

Even now, she’s leaning against him on the couch, legs thrown over to the other end of the sofa. Silver Wolf is resting against his other side, snoring lightly, somehow oblivious to the noise and explosions of the movie. It’s not like they try to turn the volume down either. She’s also got his coat draped over her lopsidedly like a blanket. No one had wanted to get a blanket when asked and naturally it just happened to be the day when all their couch covers were in the wash. 

So Blade sacrifices warmth. Not that he runs cold, it’s a strange juxtaposition, because the heart beating in his chest is certainly cold, but his body itself still runs hot. Warmer than the average human for some strange reason. Perhaps he’s simply keeping the furnace fire he can no longer use in his body instead. 

It seems it comes in handy, as Kafka and Silver Wolf always use him as a pillow. Even Elio, for all his prissy, posh cat ways, isn't immune. Maybe Sam is the only one who doesn’t see Blade as a portable heater…then again, Sam is self-sufficient, relying on machinery alone to accomplish tasks. 

Speaking of Sam, he’s sitting on the ottoman. Blade isn’t too sure why, there’s space on the couch – there was a reason they had needed to upgrade it several times in the past, but when he sees Elio stalk into the room from the hallway, he thinks he knows, especially when cat-Elio jumps onto Sam’s lap to get scratches. 

The night wears on and soon, not one but two people are fast asleep on each of Blade’s sides. He’s pretty sure Kafka is faking it, but knows very well that Silver Wolf is dead to the world. Not even a hard shake would make her wake up. The ending credits of the movie are rolling on the screen and still, neither have woken up. 

Blade gestures at Sam, who stands up and takes Silver Wolf back to her room, coat and everything. Elio is perched on his broad shoulders, amber eyes gleaming as they walk away. Thankfully, Silver Wolf sleeps deeply. Blade supposes it’s one of her many strengths, especially since she is still a child. 

Left alone with Kafka, Blade thinks that it really would be rude to leave her on the couch, even with a blanket and pillow. Well he doesn’t have a coat to give her and the one Kafka wears is much too small for the night so he takes her back to her room. He makes sure to remove her sunglasses, pistol(s), jacket and katana. 

The door is carefully shut, done in a way that wouldn’t make a noise and wake Kafka up. They share a trait there, that they are both light sleepers. With Kafka and Silver Wolf secured, Blade begins the trek back to his own room. It’s dark in the hallways, but occasionally, a window opening into the starry seas appears.

[darkacademiablues]

[pussydestroyer10110]

I LOVE ELIO AND WHEN I SAY LOVE I MEAN LOOOOVE

Timothèe Chalamet was such good casting for Elio and I can proudly say I've read the book and watched the movie (this is fucking astonishing because I normally lurk around the internet)

There's barely any of these so I'll make one myself

•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡

ELIO PERLMAN X MALE READER

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Summary: You take the place of Oliver. Elio is 18, you are 20. This takes place in the part of the movie version where Oliver leaves and Elio is left heartbroken but you however realise you can't live without the love of your life so you drag your ass back to him.

—————

Have you ever heard of the phrase distance makes the heart grow fonder? Well in your case that statement is very much true.

You'd just arrived at the airport and your flight was due to be boarding any minute yet you had a sickening feeling in your gut with every step you took closer to that gate. You were about third in line, your passport open on the page with your picture, when suddenly tealisation hits you like a freight train.

This was wrong.

You shouldn't be here.

You should be with him.

So you closed your passport and bolted murmuring 'excuse me' every time someone got in your way because you were now a man with a mission. The wheels of your suitcase could barely keep up as they groaned from your frantic dragging, it was now that you were thanking the lords above that you only travelled with one item of luggage.

You made your way into the main foyer and ran towards the main entrance trying to flag a taxi.

"Scusi, do you need help?" A small woman asked from the side of you seeing your struggle of trying to get a taxi.

"Yes, I need to be in Crema as soon as possible but none of them seem to notice me." You say with a pitiful tone laced with spite.

"Crema?" She asked.

"Yes, I need to visit someone very special to me before it is too late." You reply looking downcast.

"I am going to Crema, I will give you a lift." She said sympathising with your unfortunate situation.

"Really! Thank you so much I'll be forever grateful!" You say in disbelief of this womans generosity.

She just smiles and nods her head. You couldn't resist and wrapped your clumsy frame around her in a loving hug, she laughed and patted your back.

"Come on we must leave if we want to make it by the end of today" She demands ushering you towards the car.

You place yourself in the passenger seat as she gets in the drivers and quickly pulls out of the hellish car park. Your leg bounces up and down in nervous excitement. What if he never forgives you for leaving? What if you were just a summer fling?

What if he didn't want you to return?

"Tell me about them" She says.

And that's how you spend the seemingly never ending journey, rambling on about the boy you had fallen in love with in a scarily short amount of time. The conversation wasn't completely one sided as she tells you about a husband she has waiting for her in her small residence in Crema and how she's been so excited to see him and her little boy - Lèon.

You ride was filled with a love sick aura as you discussed those who you loved dearly and she didn't even blink when you mentioned your lover was a boy. By the end of the journey you'd made a new friend.

The beautiful place of Crema began to appear with its trees lined paths and cobbled roads, outside was nearly dark now as the last 5 hours had been pure travelling with your new companion. She drive the car through the quiet streets before she reached the dusty path that had begun to feel like home over this summer.

She stopped the car and turned to look at you.

"Go in there and you tell that boy you love him and if no one accepts you here come to mine and I'll gladly make up the spare bedroom." She says smiling widely at you.

You lean over and hug her tightly.

"Thank you so much, you don't know how much this means to me." You tell her.

Before you could say anything else though she shooed you out the car wishing you luck.

Nerves started creeping in along with all the negative outcomes and scenarios playing on repeat through your mind as you approached the doors of the Italian villa. Your hand clenched into a fist - your knuckles pale - and knocked on the door thrice.

The sound of rushed footsteps and the noise of blanketed voices talking in Italian caused you to stand up straight with a nervous smile etched on your lips. The door opened and the woman known as Mrs Perlman or as she insisted you called her Anella, had her face turned away from you still in conversation with Mr Perlman.

As soon as she turned her head towards you she let out a gasp and then smiled widely pulling you in for a big hug.

"What are you doing here (___)!?" She said happily.

You were unsure of what to say.

"I ..... couldn't leave?" You said with anticipation.

"(___) my son is in love with you and if you are in love with him then I give you my blessing" She poke quietly and you couldn't help but let tears begin to pool along your water line.

"Go, he's in his room, he hasn't stopped crying since you left." She told you.

With that you bolted up the stairs running towards the door that you'd acquainted yourself with, knocking gently.

"Leave me alone" A voice that sounded almost like a whimper said in Italian.

You turn the handle and peak your head around the door seeing Elio's thin form curled in the bed you used to sleep in, your shirt clutched tightly in his hands.

"Go away" His voice was so tired and fragile.

You went to the bed perching yourself in the space by his upper body. You saw the redness of his cheeks and the paths of the tears leading from his closed eyes, it broke your heart to see his agonised body lying tense in front of you.

Your hand approached his hair and you brushed a stray curl off his forehead, only then did he open his eyes.

As soon as he saw you he leapt into your arms and collapsed into sobs, fingernails dragging along your arms, trying to draw your body impossibly close.

"(___)" He said softly almost as if he wasn't sure you were really there.

"I'm here my love." You whisper moving your arms to wrap around his waist and resting your head on top of his.

You sat like this for what seemed like seconds but was actually nearly half an hour, he just kept whispering your name and clawing your arms and back while sobbing desperately in your arms. Finally his cries subsided into sniffles and he relaxed slightly in your arms.

He looked up at you and you raised your hands to cradle his face in your palms.

"Why are you here?" He asked as if he was scared of your answer.

"Because I love you and I can't imagine my life without you in it." You said before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips which conveyed all the emotions you couldn't put into words.

He kissed back before pulling away with a smile.

"I love you too. Promise me you won't leave again." He asked.

"Of course not, I plan to stay as long as you'll have me." You respond, every word being the truth.

And that's how your life went, a life full of romance and happiness, one where you never left each other for anything that wasn't completely necessary.

It was just you and Elio.

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AHH ANOTHER ONE DONE THIS MIGHT BE MY FAV

Don't judge its 1am so sorry for any shitty mistakes or anything

It's short but something, I had an English exam today and I think that might of sucked all the good writing out of me so my condolences

[heartburiedingreece]

I'm really gonna have to start writing nigelio fics cause there's like less than 50 of them and soon I'll have read them all

[cannibalizedlove]

MY MASTERLIST FOR TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET

Head Cannons

Male! Reader, smut and fluff.

(Timothée Chalamet characters)

Something In Common

Male! Reader, fluff.

(Elio Pearlman, Call Me By Your Name)

Acceptance

Non-binary! Reader, comfort.

(Lee, Bones and All)

Just The Way You Are

Trans! Reader, smut.

(Elio Pearlman, Call Me By Your Name)

Races and Bars

Male! Reader, fluff.

(Timothée Chalamet)

Voice like whiskey

Cowboy! Reader, fluff.

(Laurie Laurence)

Hauntingly yours

Male! Reader, Ghost AU.

(Timothée Chalamet)

Wingman

Fem! Reader, platonic.

(Timothée Chalamet)

Dream Boy

Male! Reader, comfort.

(Paul Atreides, Dune)

Can I get you something

Male! Reader, fluff.

(Jimmy, Entergalactic)

divider by @/aquazero

all written by me, do not repost.

[1donteatpancakes]

Hii , i wanna continue writing like i was before lmaoo pls send request !! ( Smut , fluff , and angst ) .

characters i will write for :

kyle scheible

laurie laurence

paul atreides

willy wonka

I’ll definitely write for others , just lmk !!

Bye babes <3

[tinysupervicki]

“Let me help you…”

(I can’t get them on my mind lol)

[ijustwantogohomehogwarts]

I did not abandon my Lee and Gracie book! My horse broke my arm and my laptop is falling apart so typing is literally impossible! Please bear with me!

I might make the original Bones and All post (the intro to the story) stupid long and add all the parts to that...not sure yet!

I have TONS of saved drafts for Timothee Chalamet though....if anyone wants me to post something?

I miss you guys! Thank you for the love!!

(This literally took me 14 minute to type)

[bloomflwrss]

a/n: ig these are my late night thoughts while listening to lana so enjoy this 👍🏻👍🏻

Call Me By Your Name | Part II

Description: eating peaches, kissing, slightly spicy, hand running up and down elios thigh, fluff , NO SMUT

I sat across from Oliver in the dimly lit room, the table between us adorned with ripe peaches. Their sweet aroma filled the air, mingling with the anticipation that hung between us.

"Do you want another one?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, my heart pounding in my chest.

Oliver's eyes met mine, a small smile gracing his lips. "Yes, please," he replied softly, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.

As I reached for another peach, our fingers brushed, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through me. I couldn't help but feel a surge of longing, a desire to bridge the gap between us, to taste the sweetness of the moment before it slipped away.

We ate in silence, the only sounds the soft rustle of the fruit and the occasional exchange of glances filled with unspoken words. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, the world outside forgotten as we savored each other's presence and the simple pleasure of sharing peaches together.

As we sat together, enjoying the quiet moment, my mom entered the room, her presence bringing a sense of warmth and familiarity. "How are my boys doing?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with affection.

I glanced at Oliver, feeling a rush of both nervousness and excitement at his presence. "We're doing well, thank you," I replied, a hint of a smile playing on my lips.

My mom's gaze turned to me, her expression softening. "Elio, why don't you play something on the piano for us? It's been too long since we've heard you," she suggested gently.

I sighed, feeling a mixture of reluctance and uncertainty wash over me. Before I could respond, Oliver's hand found its way to my thigh, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. I felt my cheeks flush with warmth as I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

Oliver grinned playfully, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Come on, Elio," he teased, his voice low and teasing. "I'm sure it would be amazing to hear you play."

Feeling a surge of both embarrassment and determination, I stood up from my seat, my heart pounding in my chest. With a deep breath, I made my way to the piano, letting the familiar keys soothe my nerves as I began to play, losing myself in the music and the moment.

As I settled in front of the piano, my fingers instinctively found their places on the keys. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the familiar melodies fill my mind.

I started with a gentle, melancholic tune, allowing the music to express the emotions swirling inside me. Each note flowed effortlessly from my fingertips, weaving a delicate tapestry of sound that enveloped the room.

As the melody unfolded, I felt a sense of release, a letting go of the worries and doubts that had been weighing on me. The music became my refuge, a sanctuary where I could lose myself completely.

With each passing moment, I sank deeper into the music, letting it carry me away on its wings. And as the final notes echoed softly through the room, I opened my eyes, feeling lighter and more alive than I had in a long time.

As the final notes of the melody faded into the air, I slowly lifted my hands from the keys, my heart still racing with the echoes of the music. I glanced around the room, feeling a sense of calm settle over me.

Suddenly, I felt a presence beside me, and I turned to see Oliver standing there, a soft smile playing on his lips. Without a word, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, his touch sending a shiver down my spine.

I watched as Oliver turned and made his way towards the door, disappearing outside into the warm summer evening. And as I sat alone in the quiet room, I couldn't help but feel a sense of longing, a desire to follow him into the night and lose myself in the magic of the moment.

[theseshipsshallsail]

High above the sodium street lights of One Hundred and Fourteenth Street, the heavy storm clouds cast a sombre shadow as Elio haunts the cracked, living room window in Oliver’s studio apartment; occasionally sipping a dark-roast espresso from the unwieldy Dial-A-Brew on the formica kitchen counter.

He’s seldom been a fan of absence makes the heart grow fonder - especially when forced to subsist on a paltry diet of fleeting visits, priority mail letters, and expensive late night phone calls - and as Elio examines the warped casement frame he’s quick to recall the evenings Oliver held the receiver over this very spot, affording both him and his parents a unique flavour of the city he calls home. 

Beyond that, however, there’s a building sense of anticipation as he studies the sky to the east. He certainly hadn’t expected to be out and aboutthis early. Not today: his first proper morning in the States. It’s the weekend, for starters, and after a fifteen hour flight from Malpensa - let alone the tedious baggage delays at JFK - he assumed he’d nap ‘til noon. His muzzy brain, albeit, clearly had other ideas, and Elio’d blinked into reluctant alertness at five a.m; lulled by the muted, Hispanic rhythms drifting from the private courtyard below.

Truth be told, he can’t quite believe he’s really here, but the crushed-velvet twilight is somewhat hypnotic in his chimeric state, and Elio sags ever so slightly when a familiar pair of arms slink slow and securely around him: banishing the pre-dawn chill.

“Hey,” he hears, Oliver’s voice gravelly with sleep. “Everything okay?” 

“Non preoccuparti…” Elio squeezes the barely-hidden tension from his bicep. “Everything’s perfect.”

“And yet you’re awake?”

“And yet I’m awake,” he repeats, carefully balancing his half-full coffee mug on the shelf of a modular bookcase. “Blame it on the time difference, mon cher.”

Oliver hums: low and contemplative. “Long haul schleps are brutal.”

“They are indeed,” Elio agrees, thankful for his current circumstances regardless. “Still. You needn’t get up just because I am.” 

His boyfriend grunts. “I’m not up.” 

“You’re not?” Elio murmurs, savouring the warmth of his larger body. 

“Nope,” Oliver says, his reflection grinning inanely. “Far from it,” he adds, failing to stifle a laugh. “I’m only here to tempt an impoverished college student back to my bed.”

Elio snickers. “Is that so?” he replies, pressing a kiss to his bristly jowl. “And does this impoverished college student have a say in the matter?”

“Assolutamente.” His accent is damn near perfect. “Though I doubt he’ll take much persuading.”

“Ah… la naïveté of youth,” Elio laments as he checks the two-tone Chronograph at Oliver’s wrist, then places his lips right there; right atop the steady thrum of his timpani pulse. “Easily corrupted by the desires of a dissol-”

“Oi!” Oliver sputters: eyes narrowed in faux reproach. “I’ll show you a dissolute!” he growls, and the next few minutes devolve into breathless giggles and retaliatory jabs as he scrabbles his expert fingertips over Elio’s heaving rib cage. “I don’t recall you minding my desires when I brought you off in the airport bathroom…”

“I’m jet-lagged, not dead,” Elio gasps when they’re finished jostling; heels digging deep into the tufted rug when Oliver attempts to make good on his promise. “Aspettare! Aspettare! I want to watch.”

“Watch what?” Oliver asks, face buried in the crook of his neck. 

“The sun, bien sûr! I want to see it rise.” Elio nods at the window; to where a vivid palette of fuschia fire is already splitting the pale blue horizon. “We haven’t done that in forever.”

Oliver sighs: fettered with regret. “We haven’t, have we?”

“Not since we borrowed my parents’ rowboat at Easter.” 

And scandalised a couple local fishermen in the process.

“Every forever derives from a now,” Oliver tells him - dropping another kiss to the hinge of his jaw - and Elio burrows close as they settle in for the duration; safe in the knowledge they’ll be echoing this moment for untold years to come.

[haocovr]

I need jeamin to do that with me 😕

room 119.

genre: jaemin tooth rotting fluff, comfort, established relationship, nonidol!jaemin, suggestive perhaps? college au ofc

note: this is for the anon with the jaemin brainrot hehe... ty for the idea! not proofread but tbh... kinda obsessed with this and yeah it made me incredibly lonely soooo... i hope you enjoy muahaha

you hadn't heard from jaemin all day!

granted, it was still early in the morning, but you trusted him enough to not skip classes again. for the third time. this week.

it's chilly out as you make the short walk to his dorm building across the literature room in which you shared a philosophy class. you assumed he would text you if he was skimping out on lecture, again, but it was radio silence.

you were worried to say the least. it was often that he would skip, but he never, ever was the type of lover to go m.i.a on you.

hiking your backpack tighter on your shoulders, you trudged through the bright orange and yellow leaves. their dull crunching sound under the soles of your shoes are drowned out by the wind blowing past your ears.

finally reaching his dorm room, you roughly knock on the door. sniffling and wiping your nose. annoyed and cheeks red from your 10 minute walk to scold your sleepy boyfriend, you rock back and forth on your feet, a pout evident on your face as you let a couple seconds pass before knocking again.

however your hand never reaches the white wooden door, jaemin swings the door open, bed head on full display as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

your gaze rakes down to his neck and bare torso, following his happy trail all the way to the sweatpants hanging low on his hips, landing your gaze down to his feet clad in cheetah print socks. you look back up at him, letting your eyes linger back on his chest and collarbones.

you both stand at the door way for a while, he's amused at your reaction, no matter how many times you've seen him like this, it never fails to leave you incredibly flustered. and he's so grateful he's the only one who gets to make you feel like this.

"well are you gonna chew me out for skipping or is me being half naked a good enough apology?" he rasps.

too much time passes and he snaps you out of your thoughts with a chuckle, pulling you into his warm apartment by your wrists. his bed was pressed up against the left side of the wall, covered in posters and fairy lights. his room smelled like pumpkin pecan waffles and you couldn't help but let your eyes soften at the framed picture of you on his nightstand.

he has a drawer designated to your chapsticks, lip balms, hair ties, rings, nail polishes and any other trinkets you've left behind any time you visit him.

dragging you over to his bed as he plops on the mattress, tilting his head up to look at you, as you push his bangs back with your palms, he pulls you in from your belt loops, you let your arms hang over his shoulders, pushing his face deeper into your stomach once he rests his forehead on your ribs.

you notice the matching string bracelets you both bought on your first date together, hanging loosely on his wrist, you feel the fraying string as he trails a palm under the back of you shirt.

he feels warmer than the hot packs you had slipped into the pockets of your large jacket.

lifting his head up, he gives you an almost drunk grin. as if though your perfume made him as tipsy as his favorite bottle of peach soju he keeps tucked away in his bright purple mini fridge.

you continue to rake your hands over the hairs at the nape of his neck but stop one he removes your arms from his neck in order to help you slip the coat off your shoulders. standing up for a moment to untie your scarf and tuck his head into the crook of your neck to pepper a few smooches on the exposed skin where your shirt slipped from the friction of your coat being dragged off.

"you okay bunny?" you whisper, worried he skipped class for more than just an extra couple hours of sleep.

"never been better," he says genuinely and you can hear the smile on his face as his breath raises goosebumps near your spine and upper arms.

he sighs as he removes himself, he seems almost annoyed that he has to be apart from you for even a moment, as he helps you slip off your shoes and rests you against his pillows.

once he has you on the mattress he hikes up his sweatpants before tugging you down a bit by your bare ankles. he moves you a bit lower, allowing himself to rest all his weight on your chest, wrapping his buff arms around your hips. immediately closing his eyes and absentmindedly reaching for your arms. once found, he tugs your wrists yet again and not so subtly drapes your left arm over the top of his shoulder blades.

the skin is unbelievably soft and warm, and you can't help but instinctively begin scratching lightly against his thick, broad shoulders, trailing your nails down the middle of his back, reaching towards the band of his boxers.

you trace all the way back up to trace a heart over his left shoulder blade. you sensed how his pulse sped up and a smile take over his face, as the feeling of his cheekbones poking your sternum became more prominent.

right after, you feel him deeply exhale, as though he's needed this more than you know, but was too afraid to use words.

his grip around you tightens and you take this as an opportunity to crane you neck down and return the favor of peppering kisses near the top of his spine.

feeling him relax over your body is better than attending art history class for. sure.