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ginnysgraffiti · 3 days

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jealousy, unprotected sex, violence, anger, cursing, fingering, 18+

&. PAUL ATREIDES x yn

could you blame yourself?

no, not really.

not the way you claimed it, at least.

you always placed so much trust and respect in the visions that paul witnessed in his dreams, for they usually concerned the holy war or future events not clear to his complete awareness yet.

however, you never expected something like this.

you couldn't say exactly if it was due to the fact that you and paul had established an increasingly stronger connection and intimacy, but you were sure that it was definitely because of other factors.

paul and his intuitions had been (disturbingly) accurate for weeks, and your boyfriend was even able to see your sexual needs in his visions.

you liked it, yes. it turned you on like hell, and you knew it had the exact effect on him.

you recognized paul's gaze when he had visions of that kind, you glimpsed it through his hungry eyes and you experienced it when his strong hands destroyed your body.

you lived with a certain constant tension, but your inner self knew that you just wanted that moment to come.

"shut that fuck up! take my cock like the slut you are!!" paul's hand slapped your butt, causing a bitter tear to fall from your face.

this excited him greatly and with his other arm he twisted your legs around his waist, making you arch your back to welcome his wet and warm dick as deeply as you could.

you didn't know if it was your fault, but paul was so furious he would have swallowed you alive.

"look at me in my eyes, damn it! or do you want me to call him, uh? to call your beloved feyd rautha and make him fuck you like i do!?"

"paul-"

yet another thrust of his hips brought your hip bones to clash painfully with each other.

you left a loud and pleading moan but his quick fingers choked you in time and reduced it to a pathetic strangled scream.

"who's the one who touches herself while feyd's name slips down her tongue?! her damn fucking tongue! uh?!"

"p-...paul it was just a-a...a vision-"

deadly move.

the bed creaked and for a moment you imagined the springs surrendering to its bloody rhythm.

your boyfriend grabbed your hair mercilessly, almost detaching them from the roots, while his cock was destroying your inner walls beyond limit.

you were crying, but you were just choking on your own moans and sobs, like a sinful child.

it was just a vision, in fact...but now he was going so rough and raw that crying more made you feel real slut.

your sight was still granted to you, even if your retinas were caged in tears as hot as spice.

you could see him, see your boyfriend taking your pussy with a heavenly expression on your face, perhaps the one you wore in his dirty visions.

his mouth was wide open with pleasure and his eyes closed with excitement. he moved his hips for his own burning pleasure, making you aching, sore and wet all in.

"I don't know what would turn me on more, maybe you really deserve to end up in his maniacal arms! you would regret it of course, but it would be too late to go back!!"

you wished somebody could hear you for your own sake.

the wet and sticky tip of his cock was roaming roughly inside you, but the initial pleasure had reduced you to an unbearable burning sensation. you could feel your chest confiding with every sob, but his hands would travel again, landing on your throat already full of purple, almost black bruises.

"you're so soaked, you little whore. you don't even deserve it, on my sheets!!" he groaned, his own anger causing every vein to pump on the smooth skin of his neck, making him there red with anger every time the jugular pumped before your eyes.

he grunted like an animal too proud for the zoo. he wanted to destroy you until you couldn't stand up anymore.

humiliation.

you could feel his tip reaching the deepest places. you knew that paul didn't care about protections in these extreme cases (even if it was the first time he was so out of it), thus implying that he would even risk pregnancy to satisfy his dick to the point of nausea.

"you hold on too well-"

you held the sheets for dear life when you felt him pushing away but replacing his sex with one of his agile fingers between your sores.

you gasped as he pecked at all the soft spots of yours. he knew too damn well you were too vulnerable and breakable when it came to his experienced hands.

at the same time you knew how much effort would be required of him to make you suffer precisely, hoping he would get tired.

"so fucking sensitive-"

he inserted another finger, moving at an exorbitant speed. you could feel your wetness even reaching his wrist.

ashamed again.

"p-paul-...i beg-"

he entered you using his thumb to reach your clit.

you moaned as he lapped at your walls, sliding his sizzling tongue into the heat.

he raised his lips sucking greedily, sliding two fingers in once more.

his grunts made everything wetter.

your body came moaning and shaking, your eyes rolling back.

you whimpered as you felt his cock filling you up, preventing you from coming any further.

"p-...paul, you know you're...the only one i love! a vision doesn't mean anything! i-...i- had always loved you, you're the boy of my life, the one who always had all his trust posted about me. so i ask you praying...believe me..."

your boyfriend moved one inch, hitting your weakest and most stimulated point.

you could feel a slight gag rising in your sore and dry throat as the last bit of lucidity left your body in a deep sleep.

[...]

when you wake up a strong pang pierced your forehead, making the room square and moving around you.

paul was curled up on you, not completely resting on you so that his weight didn't give you even more trouble regaining consciousness.

his white and puffy cheek was resting on your bare breasts, a hint of saliva at the sides of his red and swollen mouth.

you couldn't move so you didn't even try, until you felt something holding you back.

paul was lightly sleeping thanks to a bene gesserit relaxation technique, you could now sense that he was completely alert and attentive to your needs.

his delicate hand was hugging your wrist, listening to your heartbeat since you had probably passed out.

you knew that in the end, he loved you more than anything on that planet.

you were his duchess already.

#timothee chalamet #timothée chamalet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee x y/n #timothée x you #dune part 2 #dune movie #dune #paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides smut #paul atreides x you #&. PAUL ATREIDES #PAUL x reader

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bonesandchalamet · 1 year

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lessons in french- t.chalamet

pairings: timothee chalamet x reader

warnings: google translated French

a/n: first post on this account 😁 my main is @thatsdemko 🫶 feedback is always appreciated xx

“and how do I say ‘I love you’ again?”

“Je t'aime.” he says, mouth full of a buttery croissant you fetched from the bakery across the street. it’s your morning ritual, the boy who lives across town comes to your apartment and you get him “New Yorks finest croissants”— at least that’s how he puts it as.

your recent discovery was of his ability to speak a different language, French that is, and ever since you’ve been begging for lessons due to your upcoming trip to Europe. you could say New York public school systems failed you, as you barely remember a lick of the words he makes you repeat.

“and what about stop making a mess of my sofa.” you scowl brushing the pastry crumbs that scatter the cream colored seats. he mumbled a sorry as he finishes his last bite, a delighted moan escapes his lips.

“why the sudden interest in the language again?” he asks brushing his hands on his pants rather than using the crummy paper napkin that’s already wadded up and disintegrating from the butter of his hands.

“because I’m going to Europe in three weeks! I can’t look like an idiot.”

“certaines choses ne peuvent pas être changées.” he lightly giggles shaking his head watching your face scrunch up trying to dissect the sentence, but you fail. some things can’t be changed

you huff an annoyed sigh, arms crossed over your chest, “I wish I never bought you that croissant years ago.” you joke watching his acting skills come to life as he pretends to be hurt.

“now you’re just being straight up rude, amour.”

—

“so when a nice guy offers me a drink at the club what should I say?”

“J'ai un petit-ami.” the same buttery croissant fills his mouth, he watches you saunter across your tiny New York City living room. he admits, you not knowing any French is fun for him. it means he has all control of what you repeat back and what you write in your journal for the trip. this one might’ve just been the icing on the cake. I have a boyfriend

“J’ai un petit-ami? doesn’t that mean something else?” you question, head cocked to the side watching him shake his head in response as he swallows the pastry.

“nope.” he replies, reaching for the hot coffee you’ve provided him, he slurps the contents watching your pen move vigorously across the page. he thinks it’s cute how focused you are, he loves how close you hold the notebook to your face and how you spell out the words in a way only you will know what they mean.

“so are all French people assholes? I’ve been reading up on your people.”

he laughs, “my people?” he watches the red hue light your face, hands up in defense, “that’s what the internet says!”

he laughs once more telling you to never believe the internet, although he did play you into thinking the words “I have a boyfriend” mean something completely different, so maybe he is apart of that collective group.

—

“repeat it to me once more, amour.”

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?” do you want to sleep with me tonight

he chuckles a little to himself trying to find a serious tone, “that’s exactly what you should say to the cab driver.”

you chuck an orange at him watching his hands go up in defense as he allows the fruit to hit him the arm, two of you laughing, “this isn’t funny, Timmy! I leave in twenty-four hours!”

he watches you collapse against the cream colored sofa beside him, legs extending into his lap, “how am I supposed to order croissants for you across the world?” you bat your eyelids in an affection way, it’s your last hope to get help— the pastry was already the key to his heart. it gets him to do anything.

“what a dilemma that is.” he shakes his head, fingers tangling through his curls that fall in front of his eyes, “just don’t forget your notebook and you’ll be fine. do you remember how to order?”

“un croissant š'il vous plaît.” a croissant please

“tu est parfaite.” you are perfect

—

his phone buzzes in his pocket, it hasn’t even been a full day since you landed in Paris and you’ve been buzzing him like a mad woman. it’s his first time being in your place alone, he’s in charge of watering your plants. he notices you’ve left him money for his croissants and an extra key in case he misplaces the one you already gave him.

“bonjour mon ami how is Paris?” he picks up the phone plopping down onto your cream colored sofa and pressing speaker so he can listen and eat.

“did you know j’ai un petit-ami is I have a boyfriend?! you lied to me!”

he laughs, the familiar sound spreads a smile on your face despite your angry tone, it’s nice to hear him. even if you’ve been texting him, his voice is what you miss right now, “I guess you’re right my people are assholes.”

“damn right, chalamet! and I learned a little something from the bartender last night, tu es un connard!” you are an asshole

“Je t'aime!”

#timothee x reader #timothee blurb #timothee chalamet #timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee chamalet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #Timothee chalamet x y/n #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothée chalamet #timothée x reader #timothée fanfic #timothee x you #timotheé chalamet #timothée x you

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why-say · 1 year

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Timothée x reader imagine

Warnings: smut, college smut, self-insert, public sex, friends with benefits, slight weight mention (it’s not specific but it’s mentioned), this one may be more plot that smut, stranger x you x Timothée

word count: 1.8k

This is arguably the best thing i’ve ever written.

I started an etsy account selling phone cases so check that out maybe :)

✿ஜீ۞ஜீ✿•.¸¸.•*`*•.•ஜீ☼۞☼ஜீ•.•*`*•.¸¸.•✿ஜீ۞ஜீ✿

You got to class late. That wasn’t usually you, but everyone has bad mornings and today was yours. You entered your class from the back of the classroom and saw all of the seats at the front full. You had no choice but to take one near the back, a few seats over from the last person you wanted to sit next too.

“Hello.” You say curtly. He replies back but with a smile and you find that odd. You and Timothée had an agreement. You wouldn’t interact outside of your late-night booty calls. It had worked to keep things less messy like you both wanted.

You try to ignore the interaction and focus on the lesson, but you can’t see the front or the professor at all, there were too many heads in the way. You raise your hand to let him know and ask for a seat at the front but before you can get his attention, Timothee pulls your hand down.

“Just sit on my lap. You’ll be able to see better, I don’t mind.” He says, he’s already looking away like he’s so sure you will.

“Absolutely not! What? That’s so inappropriate, I’ll just…” Your voice trailed off.

You’ll just what? You were busy for the rest of the week so you couldn’t take notes later and the professor didn’t look like he would stop talking anytime soon. Would it really be that bad? It’s innocent right? It’s not like he would start fucking you in class.

“You’ll just what?” Timothée teases? A knowing smile ghosting over his face already.

“Shut up. It’s just so I can see, you know the rules.”

You move and now you are perched lightly on Timothée's lap. No one in the class even turned to look at you. You were sitting near his knees, trying to keep all your weight off of him and keep listening to your professor who was now fiddling with his computer while still talking.

You didn’t see how Timothée could take notes like this, but he didn’t seem to mind and neither did you.

Before you could start writing you felt Timothée move his hand around your waist. He pulled you further into his lap, so your back was flush with his front. You turned your head to meet his eyes. Timothée was a tall man but in this position, you were looking down to see him. You liked it.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Making you and myself comfortable, now continue writing.” He replies, he faces the professor though you can see his mischievousness peeking through.

You could never understand him, but you turned back to continue your work. You feel relaxed. Usually in class you were speed writing, and your brain was going a million miles a minute but today you felt relaxed while still writing. You didn’t understand why. Surely it couldn’t be Timothée? His presence couldn’t be the thing making you feel different. You took a moment to think and that’s when you noticed his arm never left your waist. He was making circles on the side of your body, softly stroking. You turned to face him, and he looked so calm you didn’t even think he noticed what he was doing.

His eyes turned to look at you and you cut your gaze away quickly. You weren’t going to let him distract you outside of your arrangement.

“Shhh, just relax and enjoy it. mkay?” Timothée suddenly whispered. What?

You didn’t understand what he was talking about. It wasn’t until you felt his other hand at your knee make its way up, his other hand still holding your waist.

His hand met the bottom of your skirt, and he kept going, slipping under the skirt. Your body felt hot. You shifted so you were now crossing your legs. His hand was trapped between your thighs, cutting off his movement. You didn’t know the kind of reaction he would give but you were happy to put a stop to whatever he was doing. Or were you? Your breathing was heavier, and your body was still hot.

But it was so inappropriate.

You heard him laugh quietly in your ear. He moved his hands, and you uncrossed your legs. You thought that was that.

The teacher kept talking though you weren’t listening anymore. You couldn’t pay attention to anything with your thoughts ruminating. What was Timothée doing? Why wasn’t he keeping to the arrangement? Did he want you outside of the late-night booty calls?

The light to the classroom goes off and your pulled from your thoughts. You look around and no one is freaking out, so you assume the professor is putting on a film. Your thoughts are correct as an old black and white movie appears. You can’t see anything but the screen except the heads of the people in front of you, but you can’t make out who they are.

“Relax, He put on an old film because we had time left and he finished talking.” Timothée says, still whispering but even lower because it’s so silent. People are still talking to their friends but they’ were trying to keep it lower than the movie which is pretty quiet.

“Okay.” Is all you can think of to say. You're ready to get back into your deep thoughts when you feel Timothée's hands return to where they belong. Where they belong? You couldn’t believe you just said that. Or thought that?

He placed his hands on each of your thighs and moved your legs to the outside of his. His own legs keeping your spread wide open. You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything because in reality you really really needed him. It was all you could think about right now and if he didn’t finish what he started you were going to pop.

With his knees keeping you spread bare his hands made work of you. He slipped his fingers past your underwear, feeling the wetness already there. His fingers lightly pressing into you then back out, shallowly thrusting.

The class was so silent you knew you couldn’t make any noise, but your mouth let out an involuntary moan. No body turned around, so you hope no one heard you.

“I’m not plugging your mouth baby it’s all up to you to keep quiet. Or don’t.” Timothée murmurs.

His words don’t require a reply, but you nod your head anyways, already lost in pleasure.

Sex with him always felt good but it was something about the public humiliation that could happen at any moment that made you feel this all so much more.

His finger continued to work into you, almost prepping you but you couldn’t figure out what for. He flicked your clit unexpectedly and you let out a sharp cry. It wasn’t so loud, but you heard some shuffling a few rows down and to the side. Timothée didn’t stop his assault on your body while you glanced around the classroom. No one was looking but honestly you didn’t care.

You grounded your hips further down trying to feel him deeper, and as if reading your body Timothée moved his hand so two fingers were deep inside your cunt and the heel of his hand was rubbing your clit. His fingers were twisting and pumping into you in ways that made you hold your breath to keep your moans in. You tried to close your legs as a reflex but his own just spread you wider.

The classroom felt like an inferno, and you were ready to cum. Timothée removed his hand from your cunt unexpectedly. You let out an involuntary whine in response.

Timothée moved your further down his now closed thighs, towards his knees. You didn’t understand why? Was he not letting you cum? Had somebody been watching.

You searched around the classroom and to your complete and utter dismay somebody had their eyes on yours. You couldn’t see exactly who it was, but they were standing near the door at the back of the classroom. You knew from what you could see it was a man and his arm was moving weirdly. Before you could try figure out who it was or what he was doing, you felt hands move you again. Too dazed to struggle you didn’t know what was going on until you felt your exposed and dripping pussy meet the head of Timothée's cock.

You felt him slowly pull you down his shaft. Your cunt accommodating for his size and length with an uncomfortable stretch. It was always a struggle trying to fit Timothée inside you, that was why you always prepped yourself with your favourite toys before you saw him. The lack of preparation allowed a strained cry to slip through your lips. You couldn’t think to care who had heard that, but you opened your eyes anyways when you heard a distant grunt. The man at the back of the classroom had your attention and apparently, he had Timothees too. But he wasn’t stopping.

If anything, the attention from the strange man had made Timothee work harder to thrust into you. Because of how wet you were he couldn’t be fast because people would hear, but that didn’t stop him fucking you hard. It felt like he was fucking your breath away with every thrust and you were delirious. Your sensations were limited to just this feeling, the fullness of your cunt, the heat inside your body and the ache at the bottom of your belly.

You could hear Timothée's soft moans and groans in your ear and that was what set you off. Timothée followed behind you quickly after his thrusts turned harder. You felt his warm cum hit your insides and you let out a sigh of content. You wished you could've swallowed his cum instead, but this would do.

Timothée was still panting in your ear, and it wasn’t until you felt something warm and wet hit the side of your face and hair that you remembered the stranger. Both you and Timothée turned back to look at him. He was there, you could see his chest moving up and down rapidly. Timothées hand moved to the liquid on your face. He gathered some on his fingers and placed it in his mouth. He smirked and you didn’t know why until he did the same to you. It was cum.

Moaning at the taste of the strangers cum on Timothees fingers. You looked back up to the stranger and saw him wave before leaving.

These the weirdest lesson you’ve ever day. And you kind of hoped to have it again. You didn't know how you were going to leave the classroom without people knowing what happened, but you didn't care right now.

~~~

Y’all tell me if you liked the longer fic? the plot? idk i need feedback!!

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oneshots-heaven · 1 year

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“Sleeping Mates" — Timothée Chalamet

What are you supposed to do when your best friend answers to your ’Can't sleep' text with a cheeky ’Come sleep with me' but you refuse due to your feelings for him?

WARNING True heartfelt fluff with some spice and angst Timothée Chalamet x Reader

You were tossing and turning in your bed, the sheets already stripped down to your hips as the city lights flooded your room. Your body felt on fire, and while your limbs felt tired and begged your mind to find some rest, it didn’t. You were wide awake, grasping your pillowcase, quietly groaning into it.

It had been the third night this week you struggled to fall asleep, and by now you knew you couldn’t blame it on the weather, neither on the city lights. It had thundered on the first night you couldn’t sleep and spent the entire next day blaming it on the weather. The second night, it had been chilly and rained all day, perfect temperature to have a good sleep, but instead you had stayed up almost the entire night.

You knew it must be another reason for you to be so restless lately, but you couldn’t explain to yourself what it was. There was nothing wrong in your life right now, literally not a single thing you had to worry about. While of course, there were the usual ups and downs life had to offer, you were doing good.

Turning back onto your back, you sighed as your hands searched for your phone, laying somewhere close by in your bed. Blinking against the bright screen, you checked the time.

2:38 AM.

Your tired arms gave in, laying the phone back down as you stared at the ceiling. The street lights brought the tiniest bit of light into the darkness of your room. There was only that, darkness filled with tiredness and admittedly, a bit of loneliness, as you felt like the only person awake around your block.

Grabbing your phone again, you checked the time once again. Not even a minute had passed, and it would only become more painful if you kept staring at it. Your finger hovered over the touchscreen, having no clue what to do. No solution came to your mind, everything only seemed to make it worse.

Unconsciously, you opened the messages, seeing the last chat with your best friend. You had sent him a video of his sister and you mocking his last fit, to which he had answered with some angry emojis. It still made you smile as you knew how eager he had become with his fashion looks, he liked making a statement and trying new things.

You stared at the chat, swiping upwards, reading some of your older texts. Timothée and you had been best friends for years now after having met more or less by pure coincidence. It was the easiest friendship you’ve ever had in your entire life, and somehow neither of you had ever questioned it, what you truly were, what you were supposed to be. It was just easy, he could focus on his movie career and you on your degree. Sometimes you didn’t hear from each other for weeks or even months, and yet you still always knew you had a friend for life. It felt like a lifeline.

One that you felt the need for now.

To: Timothée

Can’t sleep

This was stupid, he probably wouldn’t answer anyway. Knowing him, he was knocked out since 11 PM, peacefully sleeping in his bed two streets down the block.

Just as you wanted to put your phone away again, it buzzed in your hand. You blinked in surprise, yet frowned as you checked it.

From: Timothée

come sleep with me

You slightly sat up in bed, your eyes still fixed on his response, your hand clutched hard around your phone, as if you could lose it any second. Your chest suddenly felt like a panicked void, completely caught off-guard. You blinked and read the text again. For a second you weren’t sure if this wasn’t just a fever dream, however it was very much real, it was right there.

And yet it still felt surreal, although there was no reason to be surprised like that. Timothée and you were as close as the text hinted, saying stuff like that wasn’t a rarity. From the day you’d met, there had been this unspoken closeness between you two, a space where you could be whatever you wanted to be. It felt so natural that you had never questioned it, not until now. While you had had sleepovers at each other’s places and shared hotel rooms multiple times in the past, it just never was as intimate as inviting someone to purposely sleep besides you.

This had to be a joke.

All of the sudden, after whatever much time had passed, your phone buzzed again.

From: Timothée

are you there or asleep already?

You pressed your lips together, your fingers itching to type an answer.

To: Timothée

No, I’m here. Still can’t fall asleep.

Seconds later, your phone buzzed once more.

From: Timothée

open your door then

Disbelief kept you right where you were, hesitating. He wasn’t at your door, that was ridiculous. Why would he come over in the middle of the night? You tried to fight it, but the what if in your head was much louder. You let go of your phone, pushing the blanket aside before you stumbled through the dark hallways of your apartment. You must look like an absolute mess, but with the force you unlocked your door and pulled it open, it was clear you didn’t care at all. All your heart desired was to see if he was actually there.

Clothed in a hoodie despite the nightly freezing temperatures outside, Timothée stood in front of your apartment door, his eyes flying up to meet yours. His face softened as he caught sight of you. “Hey,“ he mumbled, still sounding groggy from his previous sleep.

Overwhelmed by the fact that he was actually here, you glanced at him wordlessly for a brief moment, before replying a soft ’Hey’.

“Can I come in?“

You nodded, unable to form any words with your numbed tongue. It felt like your brain had stopped working, a complete malfunction of basic behavior. You remained standing in the doorway before ever so slowly stepping aside for Timothée to step in. You hadn’t expected this, you hadn’t expected to see him at this hour.

Timothée walked further in your apartment as you closed the door behind him, starring at his back, right until he turned back around to you. “You okay?“ he questioned, making you feel caught.

“Yes,“ you breathed.

Pushing his hands in the pockets of his loose fitted sweatpants, he said, “Just can’t sleep, hm?“

Pressing your lips together, you leaned against the kitchen counter, nodding. You felt so out of place. What was this? Why did this feel not like usual, not like any other situation in your friendship and instead so different?

“Have had trouble sleeping for some days now. I don’t know why, I just can’t seem to find any rest.“

“Want me to make some tea? Talk you tired?“ he offered. “No offense, but you do look pretty exhausted.“

You chuckled quietly. “Well, I am pretty exhausted. But you don’t have to do all that. I just need to finally fall asleep.“

“Let’s go to bed, then.“

There were a million questions in your head, putting in question all sort of things. Go to bed, together? What will happen then? Will you sleep next to me? But first and foremost, why are you here now? While all of this was highly confusing to you, you didn’t stop yourself from following him to your bedroom. Your bed was the proof of your restless nights. The covers laid crumbled aside, pillows were laying everywhere, but were they fit right. Nothing about your bed looked comfy right now, but rather like a chaotic, stressful mess.

Timothée, without another word, made the space his own, grabbing one of the bigger pillows and fluffed it out before doing the same to the other. Stripping his sweater and throwing it on the ground, he stood on the other side of the bed, looking at you. He was still clothed in his low hanging sweatpants and a t-shirt, yet your cheeks flushed at the sight of him.

It was the ease with how he did things. Without hesitation, without fear, because that was what your friendship had always been about—safety without any doubt. His smile offered the same comfort that you’d always known, and although the confusion didn’t leave you, you felt a little more relaxed to get into bed, just as he did too.

This was just like any other sleepover, this didn’t mean anything more than any other time before, or at least that was what you told yourself. Timothée laid next to you, hauling under the same blanket as you, feeling so close yet far away in your queen sized bed.

The city lights brought enough light into your bedroom to see the contours of his face as you took a glimpse at him. Your fingertips tickled in desperate desire to touch his face, to draw your finger along his strong jaw over to his soft lips, but you denied yourself to give into that desire. Your hands stayed where they should be, laying to close to your body on either side. You laid in your own bed like a corpse, paralyzed to move or make yourself more comfortable, because you felt so fearful to get too close to him, and he seemed to notice.

“Relax,“ he whispered into the dark.

“I am relaxed,“ you assured him, lying through your gritted teeth.

He snorted quietly, suddenly you felt his hand shaking your shoulder lightly. “No, don’t lie,“ he said, his voice sounding like a true beg. “You’re tensed as hell, no wonder why you can’t sleep like that. You need to let your body loose, like you’re sleeping in a hammock.“

“In a hammock, you say?“ you laughed. “I don’t think—“

“Yes, don’t think. Don’t overthink anything right now, that’s too much brain activity.“

At this point, you felt like he was mumbling bullshit, you could hear it in his voice. Before you texted him, he must’ve been asleep or close to sleeping already, he sounded groggy, yet ever so concentrated on making you feel just as sleepy.

“I cannot not think. That feels impossible.“ you argued, which was the truth, especially now with him next to you in bed at this late hour. It was in the middle of the night, he should’ve been fast asleep and instead he had been suddenly standing in front of your door. You couldn’t concentrate on sleeping when your body was so hyperaware of his.

“Why?“

The worst possible question because you had no answer to that, or rather you feared the answer to that.

“I don’t know, I just can’t.“

His fingers brushed back and forth over your arm, creasing it, as he said, “Everything’s ok, Y/N. You’re fine, you can rest.“

You gulped, tensing more up if that was even possible. Why would he say such thing? Your mind spun around, and by now you were sure that you were losing yourself in absently overthinking about the meaning of your friendship. Timothée was the greatest friend you’d ever had, there was no argument in that, and you would do anything for this boy, and still you wondered.

He pushed himself up on his elbows as he noticed how you still couldn’t relax and rather laid rigged up beside him. “Come here,“ he said, ever so quietly, as he opened up his arms for you to move closer.

For a brief moment, you simply starred at him and the small space between the two of you. In the briefness of it all, Timothée looked like he may regretted his words, yet held his arms wide open. The confusion yelled loudly in your head, trying to draw further attention to itself but you had ignored it, already having pushed yourself over the mattress into his welcoming arms. They came around you, holding you against him.

His fingers continued to brush over your shoulder down your arm as you snuggled deeper into his arms, face on his chest, and closed your eyes. This felt like peace, and that was all you had longed for in a very, very long time. Yet the question didn’t leave your mind, perhaps bothering you until you would free it from your soul.

“Why did you come here, Timmy?“

The movement of his fingers stopped abruptly, his breathing becoming rigged, as you had definitely caught him slightly off-guard with that question. His chest moved up as he breathed in deeply, your head moving with it. What a dangerous, little question.

“You texted me in the middle of the night, and I just—“ he mumbled, you could feel his lips brushing your head that was laying in the crook of his shoulder. You hung on every word he said, desperately waiting for him to finish his sentence and as he did, you swore you felt like you’d just died. “I just thought you needed me.“

You breathed out, feeling his hand brushing gently over your head. The darkness was your savior, it did not let Timothée read your thoughts out loud as they were written all over it. As confusing as this was, it warmed your heart that he had made his way blocks over in the middle of the night, just because he thought you needed him.

And you did.

All you were lacking for the past few nights was the sense of comfort that perhaps only he could bring back with ease. A gesture like this, God knows a smile from him even, was enough to give you peace, and that realization was scary. When did you put all your source of true comfort into one person? Especially one that was so close, yet never yours? Why did you do that?

“I did,“ you whispered. “I had hoped you’d answer.“

His arms around your body tightened, pulling you even closer to him, if that was even possible. “I’m glad you texted me.“

“Why?“

You felt his head falling back deeper into the pillow he was laying on. “I was glad to be or even feel like the person you’d call in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep.“

Take your entire hand and crush my heart in it, it’s yours, that is all it ever was.

Your thoughts spun with every continuing breath as the airy silence crawled over you two, and in that moment, everything halted in time, or at least that was how it felt like to you. A painfully long moment filled with even more questions, more confusion and longing. For days, your body had craved to finally find some rest and just as you possibly could get it, you wanted to do anything but to fall asleep. Although this may didn’t mean as much as your heart interpreted in his words, you wanted this to last forever.

“Timmy?“

He hummed in response, his fingertips running gently up your back, caressing it until you leaned onto your elbow to properly look at him. He loosened his embrace around you, yet refused to fully let you go. His gaze went up, meeting yours, you could barely make it out in the almost pitch-black darkness.

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to be that person but you.“

“Really?“

Disbelief resounded in his voice. What a fool he was for not believing you. If he only knew what he did to you—for years. How much you cared, how much you wanted him to care. How much you needed this, and how much you wanted him to need you as well. It tore you apart that he couldn’t see that, and it felt like torture even thinking further about this. Why hadn’t you never act on this? Why had you always denied yourself the truth, especially when it was right in front of your eyes?

Why even, why still?

Timothée’s hand rushed forward, catching the strand of hair that was about to fall into your face, slowly brushing it behind your ear as you went against all fears and doubts and leaned forward, connecting your lips together without further hesitation. You felt his body stiffen, his mouth not moving a bit, not even responding. Just as reality came crushing down onto you and you hasted to move away from him, his hand pulled your face closer again as his lips crushed harder onto yours. You gasped into the kiss by the sudden surprise, leaning more on him.

Blood rushed in your head, making you feel dizzy in his embrace. Your heart stumbled over its own beat as he pulled you even closer, those soft lips brushed over your bottom lip, luring a moan out of your mouth as his tongue slipped in, brushing against yours.

Was this even real?

His hands traveled carefully, almost a bit fearful down your waist to your hips while you melted into his touch, longing for it even more now than ever before. You’d always been close, but not once had you crossed this line, it always had felt taboo. You had believed Timothée could never like you in this way, more than just a friend, but the way how he moaned into your mouth as you gently bit his bottom lip proved you otherwise. He may desired you, too, at least a bit.

Your hands found the collar of his shirt that you grabbed and pulled him on top of you, desperate to feel his weight on you. He chuckled against your mouth, “Stop it, I’m going to crush you.“

“Don’t be silly, Tim,“ you breathed, before he placed one hand on each side of your head and leaned down to kiss you once more.

“I really don’t wanna crush you,“ he whispered in-between each kiss he planted on your lips, “because that would be a terrible way of ever losing you.“

Suddenly, the lightness got a little swept away by the serious undertone of his voice. Had he ever feared to lose you?

“You’ll never lose me if you only keep kissing me like that.“

His mouth twitched to a smile that made him look so gentle and wholesome, yet his dark eyes told a different story. They had changed into a deeper hue, longing gazing, eyeing every inch of you in the dark night. Leaning down on his elbow, he used his other hand to brush with his finger along the lines of your jaw, his gaze following the movement, until he reached your lips. As he brushed over your lips, you opened your mouth, letting it dip in, and wrapped your lips around it to suck it.

His breath hitched in the very moment of it, as he let out an airy laugh. “Don’t do that,“

You frowned, insecurity overwhelming you within seconds. “Why not? Sorry—you didn’t like that, did you?“

“No,“ he said, “I wanted for you to finally sleep, but if you keep doing stuff like that, I will most definitely try to keep you from sleeping.“

Shivers crept up on you, tingling all over your body, as your brain immediately shifted to imagine the reality of his words, and all you were left with was the desperate need to make it happen. Suddenly, every part of your body uncovered its aching for closeness that you had denied yourselves for too long. All those forbidden glances at each other, all those feelings that you couldn’t ignore, all the built up through the years of friendship finally found its purpose, and you would be damned if you let that chance slip.

Your hand carefully reached forward, brushing aside the brown curls that fell into his face, caressing his cheek, “For once, I don’t wanna sleep.“

“Good,“ he breathed, and your lips met in the perfect middle of it all. Your hands grabbed after his face, pulling him closer down to you—him still on his elbows in his ridiculous fear to crush you, as he seemingly forgot that he was rather a lightweight, but you adored his wariness. He’s always been like that, taking care of you, looking out for you, wherever you went. Your mind had been attracted to him, before your body did.

His lips began to wander to your cheek slowly down your neck, which you recked unconsciously to offer him even more space, marking every inch with a kiss. Just as your hands wandered, too, trailering down his sides to the hem of his shirt. You’d seen him shirtless before, many times, this, however, would be different. You’d pull off his shirt with intention, and he let you. Breaking away from your neck, leaving you whimper for a second, he kneeled in-between your spread legs. You followed his suit, hands still on the hem of his shirt, as he held up his arms, letting you pull it off in one swift movement. Your chest tightened at the sight of him shirtless. There was something that kick off serotonin in your head as soon as you saw him like this.

“Don’t look at me like that.“

You met his eyes. “Like what?“

“As if I’ve got anything good to offer you. I don’t—I’m not—“

Your shoulders sunk in, face softening. “I like you just the way you are, Timmy.“

Chest heaving, his gaze also softened at your words. His hands found your face again, as he whispered against your lips, “God, you’re too good to be true.“

You melted in that kiss, as you never felt closer to him than in this random night that you wished would last forever. Morning shouldn’t come too soon, who knew how long this would actually last, but until then you would believe his words as the truth.

“Can I take your shirt off, too?“

You nodded, wildly, offering him your arms in the air as he did the same to you, undressing you. You hadn’t worn a bra or anything underneath your oversized shirt, so you were instantly exposed to him, much to his surprise. His adam’s apple hitched visibly, as he took in the sight of you for a moment. “You’re so beautiful,“ he hushed, crushing his lips back onto yours, bringing you down on the bed again. “So damn beautiful.“

And he proved his words. You felt him all over your body, appreciating it with his mouth and his hands, showered you in kisses and intense waves of shivers. He sucked on the softest parts of your breasts as he lightly flicked the nipple of the other, sending your brain into another dimension. Who would’ve ever thought of this happening?

As his head hovered over the lower part of your body, hands on your sweatpants, he glanced up, meeting your eyes. “Is this real?“ you questioned.

Timothée came back up to you. “Yes,“ he replied. “It’s always been real.“

Please do not come at me for not writing smut in this. I wanted to keep it wholesome. 😭

#timothee chalamet imagines #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet fic #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x y/n #timothée x you #timothée chalamet fanfic #timothée chalamet ff #timothée imagines #timothée imagine #timothee x you #timothee x y/n #timothée chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet fluff

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roxygen22 · 7 days

Note

Thanks to the snack wars video he did with Austin butler we know timothee has a sensitive stomach when it comes to spicy foods. Maybe during date night he gets sick from spicy food and Female reader takes care of him. He feels bad for ruining date night but she promises he didn’t.

Plz

Spicy

>>puke warning<<

Timothée squirmed in his seat next to you in the movie theater. You and he had been excited for months about seeing this particular movie and were ecstatic to get midnight tickets on opening night. At first, he only made tiny shifts. You thought maybe he was just trying to get comfortable, but the frequency intensified about halfway through the film.

"Are you alright?" you whispered.

Timothée nodded, though you could see from the light off the screen that his face scrunched in discomfort. Suddenly he jumped out of his seat and ran toward the aisle. You sat there in shock as you watched him race down the stairs and out of the theater.

After about 10 minutes and no sign of Timothée coming back, you got up to check on him. You pardoned your way past the folks you were interrupting and found your way to the men's restroom. You paced for a moment, unsure of what to do next. You bounced on the balls of your feet and psyched yourself up to crack the door open and call out to him, but before you could, you heard the miserable sound of him puking.

"Timothée?"

He retched once more before responding. "Babe, go back to the movie."

"I don't want to see it without you, love." All he could muster in response was a groan. "I'm going to go buy you a bottle of water. I'll meet you in the hallway when you're able." You walked over to the concession stand and stood in line to get him a drink. He weakly walked out of the bathroom as you got back to the hallway.

You uncapped and handed Timothée the bottle of water. "Here, drink this," you instructed. He took the bottle with a shaky hand. "Any clue what caused this?" You gently placed the back of your hand against his forehead to check for fever.

"I went to that crawfish boil that Austin invited me to."

You crossed your arms. "Let me guess, the food was spicy?"

"Yeah, like the kind that makes you sweat and your nose run."

"Timmy..."

"I know, I know. But I didn't want to be rude. His family went through a lot of trouble to cook all that food. And once I got past the heat, it tasted really good."

You just shook your head. It was just like your Timothée to be polite at his own physical expense.

"I think I can go back in now." You looked at your watch. At that point he had missed at least 30 minutes of the film.

You paused. "I- I think we've missed too much of it. We'll just come back another time."

His face fell. "I'm sorry I ruined our date night."

"You didn't ruin it, love. But next time, try to lay off the spicy food before we are about to see a three-hour movie."

Timothée held out his pinky and linked it with yours. "I pinky promise."

You grinned and kissed his cheek as you walked arm-in-arm out to the car.

<><><><><>

Masterlist

#timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #Timothée x you #Timothée x reader #timothee x you #timothee x reader #Timothée Chalamet x you #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee fanfic #Timothée fanfic #sickfic #hurt/comfort #movie night #date night #established relationship

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lixzey · 4 months

Text

Letters

a/n: PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION ‼️‼️‼️This has very detailed scenes which may not be suitable for everyone. The last four letters will be the same, so heads up!

warnings: mentions of panic attacks, fighting, mention of a gun, slightly detailed murder, mention of a lot of blood, police officers, ambulances, implied post-traumatic stress disorder, trauma, and foster homes

The Fourteenth Letter

As soon as the plane landed, Timothée quickly made his way off of the plane—he was practically pushing through passengers just so he could make his way out—he had no time left to lose; he needed to find Y/n as soon as possible. Timothée was, without a doubt, scared. He wasn’t sure what would be waiting for him at the address he had in his hands.

What if he had the wrong address? What if the place was long gone? What if….Timothée couldn’t even bear to think about the worst-case scenario—even if it was possible. What if’s and maybe’s were scattered throughout his mind. Timothée wanted to think positively—that she was alright, safe, and sound at least—but those negative thoughts were inevitable, given the contents of Y/n’s letters.

Timothée sighed, running a shaky hand through his curls as he strolled to the airport’s exit. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest as he scanned the area for the car his manager had arranged for him, his mind racing with all the possibilities of what could be.

When he finally spotted his ride, Timothée stepped in and gave the driver the address, urging the driver to drive as fast as he legally could. The driver looked at him skeptically, eyebrows knitted in confusion, but nonetheless did as Timothée asked. As the car weaved through the crowded city streets, Timothée’s phone rang all of a sudden. The young actor sighed, picking up the call.

“Timmy, darling?” His mother’s voice spoke from the other line. “Where are you?”

“I’m on my way to a friend's,” Timothée lied, staring out of the car window.

“Oh, alright,” Nicole hummed, though Timothée felt like his mother knew that he was lying. “Anyway, there was a young woman looking for you just fifteen minutes ago.”

Timothée’s brows knitted in confusion. “Looking for me? Who was it?”

“I didn’t catch her name, but she left a letter.”

Timothée’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of a letter. “A letter?”

“Yes, a letter,” Nicole confirmed. “Like the last time.”

“The last time?”

“A basket of letters. Did you receive them?” Nicole asked. “I asked Pauline to drop it off at the hotel you were staying at in Paris, since she was going the same way.”

“Oh,” Timothée said, gaping at the realization. The letters were delivered to his childhood home, and his mother asked his sister to drop them off. But who delivered the letters? Was it Y/n? “Who delivered the basket, Mom?”

“The basket was left on our doorstep, sweetheart,” Nicole replied, sending shivers down Timothée's spine.

It was possible that it was Y/n who delivered the letters, but she sent them. She had mentioned in a letter before that she had used all of her extra money for stamps and such, meaning she had sent them in the mail. How the hell did the letters get compiled? Who the hell sent them to him, if not Y/n? Why the fuck were the letters delivered too damn late?

Finally, the car pulled up to the address he had scribbled on a crumpled piece of paper, snapping Timothée out of his daze. He quickly thanked the driver and stepped out onto the bustling sidewalk, his eyes scanning the old run-down building with a large signage with Oregon Sweet Angels Children’s Home written in peeling red paint on a fading yellow background.

Timothée took a step closer, peeking through the boarded windows for a sign of Y/n—or maybe a glimpse of what was inside, of old photos hanging on the walls, or if there was anything else left that could lead him to her, as it was obvious that the children’s home was long forgotten.

The actor sighed as he sat on the steps of the old building, disappointed at the fact that he had traveled forty hours for nothing. Maybe it was stupid of him to assume that he could find her; he had received the letters too late.

Taking a deep breath, Timothée fished the fourteenth letter from his pocket. “Fourteenth, four more left.”

August 15, 2023

Dear Timothée,

I just had a panic attack. I haven’t had a panic attack this bad since……

I heard a loud, echoing gunshot from outside of my apartment, and I just froze in place. I couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and couldn’t think. Because a gunshot tossed me back into the system for the remaining years of my childhood—if I could even call that a childhood.

It was the summer before I started high school.

My aunt still treated me like shit, the bare minimum, and all that. CPS still came by every week, making sure I was happy—I wasn’t—and healthy. It was annoying to act like I was okay, that everything was alright, and that there wasn't anything wrong when clearly there was. But who was I to complain? I was the orphan forced to be raised against the only family I had left's will. In everyone else's eyes, I was happy and loved. But not one of them bothered to look behind the damn curtains.

I constantly stayed in my room, making sure the door was locked and my headphones were right beside my bed.

Why, you ask?

It's because my aunt brought home a man, her fiancé; let's call him Leo.

It's not that I didn't like Leo—he was kind, he always gave me books, and we'd bond over our shared love for literature—but they always fought. It wasn't like normal fights; they would yell, they would scream, and it involved a lot of hitting and breaking things—courtesy of my aunt, I suppose, because she was the only unhinged person I've ever known. Their fights would always revolve around cheating; my aunt constantly accused Leo of cheating when he didn't. He was loyal, even though my aunt wasn't the best pea in the pod. Leo loved her, but my aunt kept on looking past that, always believing things he wasn't even capable of doing.

I was honestly scared that Leo would one day realize that my aunt was not the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Leo was like a second father to me; he said he sees me as his own and that he'd love to adopt me once he and my aunt got married.

But all that never happened.

I was sitting in my room, reading peacefully, when I heard them fighting again. At first, I didn’t pay much attention to it because their fighting was practically normal at that point, and I was used to it by then. I shook it off to the side and put my headphones on, but before I even got to play the song from my playlist, I heard a loud, deafening echo of a gunshot from the living room downstairs. I quickly got up; my ears were ringing and my vision blurred as I held the doorknob, opening it with shaking hands. I stepped out of my room, slowly creeping down the stairs, peeking over the railings.

The first thing I saw was Leo.

Lying in a pool of his own blood, slowly dying.

I stood there, frozen. The sight of the wound on the left side of his chest, where the bullet pierced through, sucked the air right out of my lungs. The white Persian rug underneath Leo’s pale and lifeless body absorbed the blood, staining it completely and making my mind blank out. All I could hear was the loud firing of the gun, taking Leo’s life in an instant, that easily.

My aunt stood there, the gun still in her shaking hands, as she stared down at her fiancé’s body, realizing what she had just done was not reversible. She didn’t notice me approaching Leo’s body. I wanted to scream at her; I wanted to charge at her and hit her again and again for killing the only person I had left who cared and loved me after I lost everything that I’ve ever known. But I just stood there as tears flowed down my cheeks, feeling hollow and broken inside—the first time I ever felt that way. After what felt like an eternity, my aunt finally looked up at me—the gun against her forehead—and before I could utter a word, she fired the gun, taking her own life just as easily as she took Leo’s.

I fell onto my knees as the ringing of the gunshot replayed again and again in my ears like a fucking merry-go-round, choking out sobs as I stared at the lifeless bodies in front of me. I didn’t know what to do. Again, I wanted to scream and shout, but nothing came out of my throat other than raspy breaths. I knelt there like an idiot for what felt like forever, wondering what I did to fucking deserve this. How the fuck could anyone hurt a little kid?

Eventually, I grabbed the phone—Leo’s phone—from the coffee table and dialed 911 with my hands shaking. A little while later, the police and ambulances arrived, and immediately one of the RMTs rushed towards me. I was still kneeling in front of Leo’s body, so the RMT wrapped me in her arms and slowly escorted me out to one of the ambulances. I was shaking and sweating while one of the police officers who responded asked me questions about what happened.

I couldn’t.

The scene kept replaying itself again and again. I just kept on crying silently, until the RMT who took me out of the house said it was better to take me to the hospital first to recover from the trauma, and a psychiatrist would be better given what I had to witness. I just sat there until I saw bodies getting loaded into the other two ambulances—Leo and my sorry excuse for an aunt’s bodies—in black body bags. I never, ever expected that I’d see someone I loved die in front of my eyes again. First my parents, then Leo.

I was then whisked away to the nearest hospital. The hospital where I woke up three years prior. I was back to square one, now a literal orphan. No more family.

I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. I spent a week in the hospital, crying and crying again and again until I ran out of tears. Psychiatrists, therapists, nurses, and doctors all tried to help me open up, but none of them were ever successful.

After my stay at the hospital, I was thrown into foster care—Oregon Sweet Angels Children’s Home—for good this time. I spent my first few days stuck in bed; I didn’t have the energy to mingle with the other kids my age—I was thirteen, turning fourteen in a few months at that time—no one wants a broken girl for a friend, and it’s sure as hell that no one wants to adopt a teen who has nightmares each and every goddamn night.

Now, the trauma’s haunting me. Every fucking time, and this one isn’t all of it.

I’m all alone now.

My parents died, Leo got murdered, Ava moved out, and Julie’s moved to another state. Who do I have left now, Timmy? Do I have you? I'm scared that everyone I’ll love will leave me. You weren’t even mine to begin with, but I’m still scared to lose you.

I've been praying again and again for somebody to save me—a knight in shining armor, for all I care—but no one’s been heroic enough. All that I did to try to undo it, all of my pain, and all their excuses. I was a kid, but I wasn't fucking clueless. At eleven, I understood that someone who loves you wouldn't do any of this. All of my past, I tried to erase it. But now I see, would I even change it?

What was I fucking made for?

All my love,

Y/n

Timothée felt his heart clench, tears pricking his eyes, threatening to fall as he finished reading the fourteenth letter. Y/n had been through so much, so fucking much. She was just a little girl—a little girl who had already gone through hell and back again and again. Timothée felt his stomach twist with guilt, even though it wasn’t his fault.

Or was it?

Had he received all of her letters earlier, Timothée would've reached out to her sooner. She had been so alone and traumatized for years, living through a nightmare that a child should never have to experience. Timothée pressed the letter to his chest, wiping away the tears that had fallen down his cheeks with one hand. He stood up, tucking the letter back in its envelope and putting it back in his pocket.

Timothée took a deep breath, turning around to take one last look at the children’s home—the place where Y/n spent four years of her life alone—before making his way back to the car that was waiting for him.

He wasn’t going to give up. He was going to find Y/n, he was going to be the hero she desperately needed, and he wasn’t going to stop until he did.

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darkacademiablues · 7 months

Text

Timothée Chalamet slaying the fashion week without attending any shows.

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ginnyluvstimmy · 2 months

Text

welcome home (timothée x f.reader)

[ where timothée breaks up and realises you're the only one he actually craves for ]

Hollywood.

It was where you had met.

Between the clapperboard, action! of the director, the hair and make-up sessions which annoyed both of you and the low quality jokes just to kill time.

Luca Guadagnino had personally requested your presence among those pages of the script, and he himself said that he had been admiring your career in the world of Hollywood since time.

You were both Italian, this bonded you and created mutual respect.

The way your Italian accent rolled off your tongue when you spoke to Luca drove Timothée crazy.

Insane.

Maybe the sexiest turn on he could receive.

Just as his delicate, clean, casual French stunned you, you too had figured out how to make him take the bait.

The moments you treasured the most were those behind the scenes. The laughter, his schizophrenic outbursts from the excitement of filming, his unpredictable moves, his pleasant speeches.

The way his curls made him look like a puff, his green/grey eyes where you could get lost in the edges of the foggy jungle, his French cheekbones that mirrored him, in your eyes, like a gentleman from the 1800s, and how his bottom lip was definitely more full and inviting than the one above.

You immediately started hanging out regularly even off camera, without the buzz and movement of filming.

No weeks passed that he confidently proposed to you.

It was no longer a matter of pretending for the production staff, you two weren't in the spotlight and maybe you loved each other even more.

But then came the commitments, the premieres, the collaborations, and suddenly you found yourself with a different plane ticket in your hand every day, and you rarely saw Timothée.

This displeased both of you, especially since he wasn't in a very different situation.

But then the pace slowed down and the world collapsed on you.

Kylie Jenner...

You scrolled through Instagram posts. Kylie.

You read every film article. Kylie.

You checked every interview, questionnaire, news of the day.

Kylie.

Timothée he had left you for her, another.

Without warning, without a reason, without a moment to say goodbye and explain one last time.

You were exhausted, physically and mentally, and the suitcases from your countless business trips were still at the entrance.

Months, months passed...and every time you called your ex-boyfriend he neglected you with 'I'm busy', 'I'll call you back later, ok?', 'it's hard to explain, you wouldn't understand'.

What was there to explain? Did you do something wrong? Did you forget his birthday? The monthly anniversary?

Absolutely not, you weren't the type.

The only relief you felt was listening to the opinions of the fandom and the parazzi: they were much less convinced of this relationship than you already were. It was a sign, it definitely meant something...but every day was torture without his laughter, his cuddles, his French kisses.

It all felt too real.

More months passed, and he didn't show up.

Valentine's Day was approaching and you would have felt a new knot in your stomach gathering in you.

Suddenly, the last person you thought would call, made your cell phone ring.

You picked up, waiting for Timothée to speak first and give you a good explanation.

A very good one, you hoped.

"Hey, Y/n..." His voice cracked and you could tell he was sobbing.

"Listen I...I swear I can explain it all..."

You waited on the other line, you weren't in the mood to answer. If you had done so you would certainly have screamed so loudly that you would have broken his eardrum, throwing that whole situation of the Kardashian in his damn face.

"Can I come to your place...?"

You were about to say a harsh 'no' when you realised he would have shown himself anyway.

You hung up, and the house reverberated with a dull hum.

[ ... ]

He showed at your door with a red rose, red and swollen eyes and his entire figure soaked wet by the heavy rain that was pounding the neighborhood gravel.

You let him in, without saying a word.

He stopped at the carpet in the entrance, as if he suddenly realized that that house was yours and yours alone and he no longer had anything to do with it.

"My manager forced me..." He whispered, but his faint voice died in the air before he could reach you.

"Sorry?"

"I said...my manager forced me. The whole thing of Kylie, it was for...money, you know. I haven't decided on it, my staff has the power. I'm sorry if I didn't warn you, I couldn't...I had to make people believe it was real, you understand me?"

You knew you should have felt immense relief at those words, but they made you even more nervous.

"You're completely out of your mind..."

"But it's true! I'm telling the truth Y/n...she...she never gave me the slightest attention, it was a dirty game, we were both pretending just to live together on the edge of decency! You know I could never leave you from one day to another!!"

You let him stay at the entrance, as if you wanted to see the mat suck him alive.

But Timothée couldn't wait anymore and hugged you tightly, sobbing like a child in the crook of your neck.

His tears ran down your skin, his arms setting a fire in your stomach.

"Je t'aimerai toujours, tu sais..."

"Ti amerò per sempre anch'io, Timothée."

#timothée chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothee chalamet #lovers #timothee x reader #timothée x reader #timothee x you #timothée x you #timothee x y/n #timothee chalamet imagine

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writinfortim · 2 years

Text

waitress at hooters

WAHH thank u all for the feedback on my first concept, i appreciate it!!! kisses 4 u all, enjoy this one xo

;fluffy prank

You set the camera up on your fridge, almost falling off the chair.

He’s been acting foul lately, pranking you every other day. So you decided to play with his heart strings and hit a few nerves on the way.

You never usually do intro’s, because let’s be honest.. we all skip them. So you just get straight to the point.

“ Today we’re gonna irritate the shit out of Timothée. “ you announce with the biggest smile glued to your face.

You get off the chair and lift it up.

“ Please girls, do me a favor and irritate your boyfriend today, “ you pat your chest, “ do it for me. “ You say placing the chair back in its place.

“ I’m gonna tell him like ‘ hey babe, i’m off to work ‘ and the rest i’ll pull it out my ass. ``You shrug.

“ I at least know where I work, Hooters. Anyone that knows about Hooters knows that girls wear these cute, revealing outfits. “ you spin for the camera.

Showing your white sports bra, written Hooters across it and short orange shorts.

“ Guy’s usually go there for the food.. and the girls. “ You roll your eyes.

“ Honestly, I've never been to Hooters, like ever. I don’t know if he has? but.. I hope I'll get a reaction out of him. “

“ I don’t know if he’ll be like oh okay enjoy whatever or wait.. where the fuck are you going? “

You take a deep breath to prepare for all the arguing to come.

“ Timothée! “ you yell.

“ What? “ he practically shouts.

“ Come here! I wanna show you something. “

“ Whachyou wanna show me? “

“ Well if you don’t come down.. you won’t.. see it? “

“ Is it important? Is it worth me coming all the way down? “

I roll my eyes.

“ Alright I guess you won’t see what I have.. on. “

You hear hurried footsteps.

He’s fixing his flannel when he comes into sight.

His eyebrows reach the 7th sky. “ Ayo.. “ he crosses his arms. “ What you got this on for? “

“ Do you like it? “ you spin around.

He nods while you’re admiring your ass on the body length mirror.

“ Looking real nice, looking real plump. Looking like a peach, “ he says proudly.

“ I’ve been doing my, “ you do a squat, “ squats. “

“ Yeah? “ he hugs your waist, his hand sliding down your figure. Squeezing your ass.

He kisses you, “ But.. “ he sits down on the couch, adjusting his waist.

“ What’s this for? Is it for me, like right now? “

you kneel between his legs, “ Did you forget what i told you about? “ you pout.

He furrowed his eyebrows. Thinking. Hard.

“ What? “

“ Really? “ Now you’re gonna pull shit outta your ass.

“ Last week we talked about it. ``You stand up.

“ I’m going to work. “ you announce.

“ Going to work on what? me? “ He pulls his tongue out, proud of his joke.

You push his head away, laughing. “ No! “

You check time on your phone, “ Fuck, it’s almost time for my shift.. “

He grimaces, sliding off his headphones, placing them around his neck. “ Now you said, what? “

“ I have to work tonight, I told you about it. “

“ Work tonight? “ He’s lost.

“ Babe, “ you look at him with a blank face. “ That’s how I know you don’t listen when I talk to you. “

“ I listen to everything you say, that’s why I'm so confused right now. “ He empathizes his words with his hands.

“ Um, I have to go. “ You pick up your bag that’s placed next to him. He snatches it out of your hand and stands up.

“ You gotta go? “ He places his phone inside your bag.

“ Where we gotta go? “ he asks.

“ I have to go. There is no we, give me my bag! “ you jump trying to take it back.

“ Where we going? “

“ Timo- “

“ Where we going? “

You give up. “ I’m going to work, for fucks sake. “

He walks up to the kitchen island, “ Where ya job at? “ He practically snatches the car keys.

You follow him, “ Where’s my job at? Look at my boobs, “ You gesture to the logo on your chest.

“ I am. Trust. “ he smirks.

“ Okay, either you can drop me off or i can drive- “

“ Okay stop- W-what are you playing dress up for? “ he turns serious suddenly.

“ I’m going to- what do you mean? “ you whine, acting tired of his questions.

“ You’re going to work, where? “ he laughs irritably.

“ Hooters! “

“ For what? “

“ Okay timothée, now you’re just wasting my time. Give me the keys and my purse. “

“ You have like a deal with them? Like is this a photoshoot or something? “

It’s like you’re talking to a wall.

“ No, I’m going to serve people! “

He scratches his chin, “ Serve peo- Y/n what is this? “

“ I mean you know i’ve been spending a lot of money and like i just need more of a social life, all the girls are really nice and they literall- “

“ When did you meet the girls from the Tooter? We've never been there. “ he places his hands on his hips, your purse sliding to his wrist.

“ I went. for my interview- “

“ When? “

“ Last week! “

“ You’re joking, right? “

You look at him.

“ You gotta be joking, like.. “ He looks around, laughing.

“ No, I'm leaving now. I'm already late as it is. “ You take your bag effortlessly from him.

He looks at you, frozen.

“ Do you want me to get you anything from work? “

he slouches on the spot, looking at you like you just said the sky is blue.

“ Bring me any- what are you talking abo- You don’t have a job! “ he says, shaking you by the shoulders.

“ I have a job at Hooters! I'm a waitress! “

“ No! “ He throws his hands up in the sky.

“ If you did i would know, you would’ve said hey, babe love of my life i’m off to work and i’d be like okay babe have a good day not like- what the fuck? “

“ Babe, “ you pat his chest, “ relax. “

“ Yo, I'm just trying to figure it out, “ he sways a hand between you two, “ communicate. “

“ Well I just want to make sure, y’know, you’re informed I'm going to work. “

“ Y/n, take your ass to the couch. “

“ Timothée, the only place I'll take my ass to is Hooters. Wait let me practice on you. “ You put your purse down.

“ Practice what on me? “ He sits on the island stool.

“ So I'm like walking towards you, a customer. “ You walk towards him, doing the most.

“ What are you moving your hips for? Just fucking walk. “ And by his tone you know he’s so over this.

“ Hi! Welcome to Hooters, What can I do for you? “ A hand on your hip, you smile showing your teeth.

He flips his hat backwards, “ Yeh, no. I don’t even think they say that shit. “

“ Alright now you’re just being a hater. “

“ Nah cuz you just made that up. Do it again. “

Oh he’s playing along now.

So you do it again.

“ Hi, welcome to Hooters, what can I do for you tonight?.. That was good! I feel like I'll get really good tips. “

“ Just explain to me, why would you wanna go to work? At Hooters out of all places? “ He blinks.

You hold one finger up, “ well first of all ; very good tips! seco- “

“ I give you the best tip that you’re ever gonna get! “

“ Tim, it’s money. And i need the extra cash, i shop a lot. “

“ Ok now you’re lying. You don’t need no extra cash. “

You’re lying through your teeth. You shop with his card and he rarely lets you spend anything so you absolutely do not need extra cash.

“ T, i just want to make new friends, meet new peopl- “

“ Pandemic! Y/n, pandemic! “

“ Yeah but everything’s opening back up! so.. “

“ And what about it? you wanna be all up in people’s faces now? “

“ I’m not gonna be in people’s faces.. i’m gonna like wait tables and shit “

He holds his wrists above his head, looking at your forehead. “ So you’re saying, you’re going to work today. At Hooters. “

“ Yes! finally. That’s what I'm saying. “ you sigh.

“ What time is your- what’d you call it.. shift? “ He asks curiously.

“ I gotta be there in thirty minutes. “

“ They have applications? Can men work at Hooters? “

You didn’t expect that one.

“ As a Chef maybe? “ you play along.

“ I’m a fucking Chef at Hooters then, where my outfit at? I'll put it on right now. “

“ Please stop fucking around, i’m running super late. “

“ Nah,” he gets up and gathers your stuff.

“ We’re late. We both gonna work at Hooters and we both gonna get tips! How about that? “ He says throwing a fit. What a drama queen.

“ Oh fuck no, this is my job! “

“ Ight.. you done? “

“ Yes, hand me my things please? “

He does. “ Thank you, are you driving me or not? “

He ignores you and walks towards the staircase.

“ I take that as a no, “ you follow him.

“ Can you at least give me a goodbye kiss? “ you ask, smiling. This is perfect.

“ No, I thought we communicated as a couple. But no, next thing i know you’re married and have 4 kids. “

“ I'm not married and I don't have 4 kids. “

“ What if you do? “ He says with a sass.

“ Alright, I love you, “ you lean in to kiss him but he just turns his head the other way. “ Ah! “

He’s upset. And overdramatic.

“ What’s the address of this Hooters shit? “ he asks when you start making your way out.

“ It’s right down 190th St. Queens. It’s not that far, it’s a good drive. “

“ Ok, I'll be here. Have a good shift. “ He forces himself to say.

“ Bye! “

He rolls his eyes and prays to god you didn’t see him.

“ Tim! “ you call out.

“ What? “ his heart fell to his ass. Maybe you saw him. “ Go to work! “ He says, reaching out for the tv remote.

“ Come here.. “ you laugh.

“ Go get some tips, blah blah blah.. extra cash. “ he mimics your words.

“ It’s a prank! “ You say, jumping next to him. “ Look up, on the fridge. “ you point out.

“ I’m not looking up the fridge. “ he flips through channels.

You run to hop on the counter and grab the camera.

“ Say hi to everybody! “

“ Y/n, get this off my face. “ He hides the lense.

“ Oh, you look defeated. “ You throw your head back in laughter. “ I’m not defeated. I’m irritated. “

“ Ha! what’d i tell y’all! I know exactly what buttons to push. “

“ Bro, go to work! “ he pushes himself off the couch.

“ It’s a prank! I’m not working at fucking Hooters! “

You can’t help but be filled with pride. You’re the only person that can get him this worked up.

“ Go so I can have some peace and quiet around here. “ He gestures to the door, laughing.

“ Oh, peace and quiet, that's what you want? “

“ Yeh, cuz you keep playing with me! I'd rather not get played unless it's in a different type of way. “

“ Alright, shut up. “

“ Your prank wasn’t even that good. “ he shrugs while sitting on the carpet.

“ Do you guys see how salty he is.. loser! “

“ The people will let you know that it wasn’t that great!” he points to the camera that’s filming him.

“ You like my outfit tho? “

He smiles.

“ Good to know. “

“ Nah you just wait.. you wait. Just you wait. “

You sit down next to him, “ Kiss me? “

He shakes his head, “ Go to the Chef’s at Hooters they’ll kiss your ass even. “

“ You wish you could. Okay guys it’s the end of the video, i got him real good. “

“ If that helps you sleep at night. “ He takes his phone out of his pocket.

“ Thank you guys for watching! Like the video if you think I got him. “

He looks up. “ Y’all still know who the real world champion prankster is tho. “ He says confidently.

“ Blah, “ you pull your tongue.

“ She knows I'm right. “ He wraps his arm around your neck. “ Don’t you? “

“ You sure like my outfit though. `` You tease.

His fingers dancing on your collarbone, “ Is the camera still on? “ He looks at the lense and tut.

“ ight, bye guys. “ And cut.

#timothée chalamet #timothee x reader #timothée x you #timothée chalamet fluff #timothée chalamet imagine #chalamet #tchalamet #timothée x reader #timothée chalamet x reader

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bonesandchalamet · 7 months

Text

isn’t you - t.chalamet

masterlist

requested: y — “timmy Is with Kylie but fall in love with co-star!Reader.”

pairing: Timothee chalamet x costar!reader

warnings: writers strike is not existent in this fic + angst

a/n: this is for my Timmy girlies 🥲 I know we are hurting out there rn…

it was a low key relationship— at least according to him, until this weeks US open and he’d hit the front covers making out with his new girlfriend.

you’d never grown close to timothee chalamet, not with his good looks and charming humor did you allow yourself to grow attached to a man who wasn’t available. sure, you could be friends, men and women are friends all the time, but there was something else about Timothee that just made it impossible to be friends with him.

“so tell me,” the reporter starts, her eyes dazzling with excitement as she scans both of your faces for the same energy, but you lack it. no amount of caffeine and self preparation could make you happy to sit beside the world renowned actor, Timothee chalamet, “have you guys gotten close throughout filming? I mean, it’s been almost year you have to be best friends by now, right?”

it’s Timothee who laughs, he does his typical adjustment in his seat, leaning forward he begins to speak, “I mean we’ve gotten close, I’ve begun to pick up the little things she does.”

the reporters eyes grow wide, she’s begging for me, “like what?” she asks, and you cock your head to the side to get a good view of his side profile.

he chews the inside of his cheek when he’s slightly nervous, you’ve noticed this before, he fidgets with his rings too, and finally he opens his mouth, “I don’t know, I can’t think of anything right now.”

“you have to have something in mind.” you finally say, a rush of blood flows to your cheeks as you and the reporter wait for what feels to be like minutes, but really is seconds, before he finally comes up with something, “how you set out coffee for me every morning. you never get it right, but it’s still a nice gesture.”

the reporter presses her hand to her heart, “y/n, do you have anything that Timothee does that helped you grow close to him?”

where do you begin? his laugh, his smile, his jokes, his voice, his charm. you could go on and on, but you can’t pick those. not without making it so obvious you were in love with him, so you’ll result to something less awkward.

“his jokes, that reeled me in for sure.”

—

the interviews are done. it’s the press conferences and red carpet debuts are all that are left. Timothee is known for always having a hand around his female co-stars waists, or even just being close to them, which will make things ten times harder to resist him.

the tiny black midi dress shows your curves and all other assists to your physical beauty. standing in front of the cameras, you smile and pose. it’s not long before you feel a hand against the small of your back and the scent of his cologne.

“you look,” he pauses for a second, moving his body in front of yours, so it’s just you two, his eyes scan you up and down slowly before finally reaching your eyes, “beautiful.” he exhales the words, it’s almost faint against his lips but you hear him.

suddenly, he’s moved back beside you exposing you back to the bright flashes of the cameras and you’re trying your best to pull away from him, but he’s like a flame and you’re the moth. he finds his way to pull you closer to him, and without even knowing it he’s falling. he’s slowly, but surely, falling deeper into a feeling he thought he’d felt for another woman, but it wasn’t until you showed up tonight.

“you’ll be the death of me.” he mutters silently to himself before moving along the carpet by himself now. he takes a quick chance to look back at you, you’re smiling and posing with another male costar who’s perfectly cozy beside you, and that’s all the reasons for him to turn around and join you on the other side. what was he jealous of? you were single for all he knew, he was the one who shouldn’t be running back to smile beside you.

“it’s hard to resist you.” he admits, he turns his body away from the cameras slightly angled towards you.

your eyes flicker up into his, beautiful big and round, your pupils are dilated at just the very look of him, “what do you mean?” your lips attempt to curve into a frown, but you force the resistance and keep them poised into a smile trying not to let the emotions get to you.

“I mean,” he pauses, his head tilts down closer to your ear. you can feel his warm minty breath run down your neck, “I can’t have you, but I want you. you make my life a living hell.”

“dido.” you reply. finally moving from his grasp, turning your body you face the cameras and walk down the carpet until you’re at the end. he’s feet away from you, chatting with another costar, but his eyes don’t leave you. you can feel them scanning every part of your body as you move around to the sound of people cheering your name.

he fights every instinct to touch you, to kiss you like he did on screen, or pull you into him. he stands beside you angry, mad at himself, for falling too soon for another woman that wasn’t you.

#timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee fanfic #timothee x y/n #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet imagines #timothee imagine #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet #timothée x reader #timothée fanfic #timothée imagine #timothée x you

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why-say · 1 year

Note

Hi there! I have a question and a request.

So my question is, are you planning to have a masterlist soon? So we can find all your fics? 😁

And my request is, the reader is having super bad cramps bc of her period and she feels so sick. Timmy read somewhere that orgasms are good to ease the pain so he and reader have an intense love making session not caring about how much of a mess they make ❣️

Thank you!

I just posted a small masterlist for my fics thank you sm for reminding me and i love this request!!

You can find my masterlist here

I started an etsy account selling phone cases so check that out maybe :)

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

timothée x reader imagine

Warnings: period sex, nipple play, slight dumbification

word count: 582

✿ஜீ۞ஜீ✿•.¸¸.•*`*•.•ஜீ☼۞☼ஜீ•.•*`*•.¸¸.•✿ஜீ۞ஜீ✿

You were in bed. Your period had just started this morning after two days of cramps. Timothée had been with you when he could, patting your back, rubbing your hair all of it.

It was unexpected. Your last boyfriend had steered clear of you at any mention of your period and you expected the same from any man including Timothée. It was pleasantly different. He was sitting in a small arm chair beside your bed scrolling on his phone.

“Did you know that apparently sex and orgasms can relieve period cramps?” He said with a small smirk.

You hadn’t had sex with him yet due to the nature of your friendship and this wasn’t what you expected.

“what?” you reply.

“yeah look,” he shows you the article and it says exactly what he said. “with your pains this bad maybe it’s worth a try? right?”

“But isint that wrong?” You say. Your ex never even went down on you, period sex was out of the question. But Timothée seemed different.

“Wrong? To help you feel better? That’s all i want baby it’s not wrong.” Timothée purrs.

He moves off the chair and sits on the bed behind you, by your head. Moving his running fingers from trailing your stomach to moving up and down on the skin below your shorts.

Your breaths get a little more erratic and uneven. Felling hot already from his teasing.

“okay.” You almost whisper, but he hears you anyways.

like lightning, he flips himself so he’s hovering over you between your thighs. Timothee kisses you. Its a passionate kiss you never thought you could share with him. He pulls your shirt up, barley removing his lips from yours.

His hands find your nipple easily. You let out a strangled moan through the kiss. Your nipples had always been sensitive but during your period it was the worst. That’s why you always worse loose shirts during it, never a bra.

Your body felt hot, you knew you were sensitive but when your body let out a rush of fluid, you realised how sensitive you were. Timothée had made you cum just by playing with your tits.

“fuck, that was amazing baby.” He purrs in your ear, releasing your mouth to cry out.

He pulls your shorts and underwear down. You had almost forgotten you were on your period but him removing and discarding your tampon had brought you right back into the moment.

“Are you sure you want to-” He cuts you off with a sharp thrust into you.

“I wouldnt put my cock somewhere i didn’t want to be and trust me baby i wanna be right. fucking. here.” He says with a growl behind his words, emphasising his last words with deep thrusts.

You let out a throaty moan. Ready to come again so soon. Timothée was amazing as you knew he would be but it was the tabooness of it all that made you feel like you were about to burst out of your skin.

“your squeezing me so tight baby, strangling my cock. feels so good.” You moved your hands to his back, brining him closer.

His pace slowed but his thrusts were hard and deep. You came again on his cock, he followed right behind you.

Timothée was panting, his body draped over you.

None of you said anything but you both knew you would be doing this again. You weren’t sure it was a cramp reliever, but it did distract you blissfully.

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imnotoverlyobsessive · 5 months

Text

Title Of Your Sex Tape

Chapter Seven: Maybe This Is Danger

AO3 one two three four five six seven eight

All my work is 18+.

It’s 5am, we feel so good it’s almost frightening. It’s 5am; I’m made for you, we can’t deny it.- Måneskin, HONEY (ARE U COMING?)

Lea stirred, rolling over in the warmth of the bed with a soft, unintelligible murmur. Squinting her eyes open, she saw…

She saw Tim fast asleep beside her, his curls hanging in his eyes and his lips slightly parted. Her eyes widened in surprise, and then she remembered everything that had happened the night before.

He’d… and then she’d… and they had…

Holy fucking shit.

Lea pushed herself up into a sitting position, blinking at the light filtering through the curtains that lined two of the walls of Tim’s bedroom.

The blankets had pooled at her hips, and she flushed at the realization that she was still naked. Climbing out of bed, she wobbled a bit on unsteady feet.

“Be careful,” came Tim’s raspy, sleep-ridden voice. Lea’s head whipped around, and she saw him rubbing his eyes blearily. “What’re you doing up, anyway? Come back to bed.”

She blinked at him over her shoulder. “I— shouldn’t I, y’know… leave?”

He frowned at her. “Leave? Why in the hell would you leave?” he scoffed quietly. “No, Lea. You most definitely should not leave. You should come back to bed and get some more rest before I take it upon myself to fuck you again.”

“You want me to stay?” she squeaked out, shocked. “Don’t one night stands usually leave, like…?”

“Yes,” he said impatiently, “I obviously want you to stay. I’d rather be holding you at the moment, as magnificent as this view of your ass is.” He paused. “And what the hell do you mean one night stand? Who said this was a one night stand?”

It took her a second to process this. “I… I’m not a one night stand?”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “No. I thought I made it abundantly clear that I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“You— you do?” she stuttered out, astonished.

“I really, really like you, y’know. Of course I want you to be my girlfriend.” He paused, looking a bit nervous. “If— if you’d want that, I mean. I figured since you said you like me, you’d want to be with me, too. Was I wrong?”

She looked down at the floor. “You weren’t wrong, no.”

“So… what’s the issue, then?” he said slowly.

“I mean… you, like…” She didn’t know how to relay her concerns about his career without shaming him. It wasn’t that what he did was wrong, that wasn’t it all.

“What is it?” he asked gently.

“You’re a pornstar, Tim,” she explained, her voice quiet.

He was silent for a moment. “So?”

“So… doesn’t that make, like… dating not an option for you?”

His frown deepened. “No. Why would it?”

“Well…” she hedged. “You sleep with other girls for a living. Like. That’s your whole job. Am I just not supposed to be jealous of that?”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Are you jealous of that?”

She flushed. “Yeah, of course I am.”

“Baby,” he sighed, propping himself on an elbow, “sex between you and me has meaning. Sex at work is literally just work. It doesn’t mean anything the way it does with you. If you agree to this, I’d only be with you romantically, and other than work, I’m not touching anyone else.” Another pause. “Is that something you’d want with me?”

“Of course I want that with you, Tim,” she sighed.

“Then…” She could almost hear him gulp. “Would you be willing to look past my job?” He hesitated. “I— I promise I’ll be faithful to you.”

“I know you will.” She clasped her hands beneath her abdomen, wringing them anxiously.

“God, your tits look amazing when you do that,” he observed.

She glanced down at herself, realized he could see her body, oh god, how had she not thought of that, of course he could see her, even in the low light of his bedroom, and she scrambled back into bed as quickly as possible, pulling the covers up over her head.

“Why’re you embarrassed?” Tim asked, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her against his bare chest. “You’re way too sexy to be embarrassed about your body.”

“I’ve never done this before,” she reminded him in a grumble. “I’m not used to guys seeing me naked.”

He hummed thoughtfully, pulling the covers down to reveal her head and burying his face in her curls. “No other guy ever has to see you naked if that’s what you’d prefer,” he murmured. “I certainly wouldn’t have any objections to that. In fact, as your boyfriend, I’d prefer that.” His arms tightened around her slightly. “I… I am your boyfriend, right?”

She smiled softly despite herself, closing her eyes and leaning into him again. “Yeah.”

In the weeks that followed, Lea’s relationship with Tim changed very little, for all intents and purposes. She helped him when they were at the studio, complied whenever he wanted to take her shopping or to dinner, and she did homework on his couch.

There were a few things, however, that had changed. For starters, Tim freely admitted that he was now going to do exactly as he liked in relation to her without holding back in the slightest, which generally involved touching her, kissing her, and a lot—a lot—of sex.

He was an extremely touchy-feeling individual, always had been, and it seemed that the floodgates had been opened, meaning he was forever holding her, nuzzling her, kissing her, and/or groping her. She didn’t mind it, really. In fact, she enjoyed it so much it was downright embarrassing.

One Monday evening, she dozed lightly after they’d finished. He was running his hands over her skin affectionately, occasionally squeezing her breasts without thinking about it.

“Lea?” Tim asked after awhile.

“Mmf,” she grunted into the pillow.

“Do you really have to go home tomorrow?”

“I have class the day after, so yeah,” she mumbled.

“You could just stay here,” he pointed out, pressing a slow kiss to her bare shoulder. “With me.”

“But it’s a school night,” she reminded him, parroting back what her mom had told her every time she’d wanted to have a sleepover on a Sunday.

Tim snorted. “You’re an adult, sweetheart. You can stay here if you want to, whether you have school or not.” He started kissing her neck and squeezing her breast. “I don’t work the days you have school, y’know. I could drive you. We could fuck before you went in and when you got home.”

He twisted her nipple, and she whimpered softly, biting her lip. “Are you, like… asking me to stay here… long-term?”

“Mhm,” he hummed against her skin. “Makes it easier, don’t you think?” With that, he slid a hand between her legs. “I could hold you whenever I want, kiss you whenever I want. Fuck you whenever I want. Wouldn’t that be nice, baby?”

“Mhm,” she breathed as he started rubbing her clit.

“I want you with me all the time,” he told her. “You make me so happy, Lea.”

“You make me happy, too,” she admitted.

“Yeah?” She could feel the smile on her skin, hear it in his voice. “God, I fuckin’ adore you. Move in with me, sweetheart. Please.”

She giggled. “Okay. I’ll stay here if you want me to that bad.”

“Oh, I want you in a hell of a lot of ways.”

“Fuck, baby,” Tim groaned, his hand tightening in her hair as he fucked her mouth. “Just like that. Fuck.”

At that exact moment, there was a swift rapping on the door to his dressing room. “You’re needed on set, Tim!”

“Alright,” he called out in a voice that was far too controlled-sounding for someone who was currently having their dick sucked.

Lea pulled off of him and wiped the saliva from her lips without looking up at him. It was harder now that they were having sex and living together. He said he liked her an insane amount, but it was growing into more than that for her. She was fully cognizant of the fact that she was falling in love with him and could do absolutely nothing to stop it. So this— having to let him go so he could be with other girls the same way he’d only just been with her, it was… difficult. She did it, though. She adored him, so she did it.

He put two fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face up. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I know you want it. I’ll fuck you as soon as I’m done, alright?”

She nodded, allowing him to help her to her feet. Sliding a hand into her hair again, he pulled her in for a kiss that was hungry and desperate. He pulled away after a moment, though.

“Wish it wasn’t Mackenzie.”

“You really don’t like her, huh?” she observed.

He grimaced. “She yells at the production crew and is incredibly entitled. No, I don’t like her. No idea how I managed before I had you.”

With a wink, he strolled from the room.

“Tim!” came Mackenzie’s high-pitched screech through the door of the dressing room. “You can’t just storm off to fuck your girlfriend at the end of a scene!”

“I need my fluffer!”

Lea looked up from her phone at the sound of his voice, blinking in surprise, and was about to stand, unsure of what to do as she heard the sound of his bare feet on the linoleum. The door to his dressing room opened then, and his eyes searched the space frantically for her before fixating on her unblinking stare.

She glanced down at his dick. He was hard still, leaking precum from the tip. Within seconds, he locked the door behind him and strode over to her.

“Fuck,” Tim groaned, reaching for her breasts with one hand and her ass with the other.

She moved away hastily, her back hitting the wall. He froze.

“Baby? What’s wrong?”

This was a valid question for someone who didn’t—couldn’t—understand her predicament. After all, she’d never refused him before and was always eager for his touch.

“You were just with another girl,” she reminded him.

Tim looked confused. “Yeah, for work,” he said slowly. “I was having to think about you to stay hard.” He took a hesitant step towards her, gauging her reaction closely. “The girls they put me with, they’re either gonna be my type in about twenty years or they’re these tiny little things with nothing to grab onto. It’s very difficult to imagine you’re them when they look nothing like you.”

She tensed at the further reminder of other women. How many had he fucked that day? She didn’t want to know.

He took another step forward. “Please, baby,” he practically begged. “I’ve basically been edging for the past two hours, thinking about how much I want you, that I wasn’t here to take care of my baby girl, fill her little pussy up and keep her satisfied, and if I don’t get inside you, I’m fairly certain I’m going to go insane.”

He was close to her now. She could kiss him if she wanted. It wouldn’t be difficult. No more than it usually was with their height difference, anyway.

“I wiped myself down,” he promised. “Don’t you want me to give it to you nice and hard, just the way you like?” He was speaking softly, his offer of pleasure oh so tempting. “Fill you with my cum and use my fingers to keep every drop inside you so you’re never empty?” After a moment, he added, “That said, I won’t pressure you if you really don’t want to.”

God, Lea could never resist him when he talked like that. Her lips parted, and his gaze fixated on them. He knew her tells.

His eyes dilated, and he slammed his mouth against hers, gripping her thighs briefly and reaching up beneath her skirt to yank her panties down and off.

Tim stroked between her legs, groaning when he touched her heat. “So fucking wet for me,” he muttered, kissing her hungrily.

He tasted different.

She ignored it.

Tim pressed her up against the wall, his nude body looming over her. “Pull your shirt down, angel,” he purred. “Let me see those tits.” She did so, reaching into her bra and shirt and pulling her breasts from their confines. He reached up to tug her nipples, twisting them lightly. “Fuck, baby. I wanna watch them bounce while I remind you who owns that pretty little pussy.”

Something odd about Tim, she had learned, was that despite his choice in career, he was inexplicably possessive.

“You do,” she breathed as he hiked her legs up around his hips, holding her up by her ass.

Tim slammed into her with a groan, and she inhaled sharply, her head thunking against the wall behind her. “God, Lea,” he gasped, immediately fucking her hard and fast against the wall. “Fuck, no one feels the way you do.”

“Tim,” she moaned, her eyes fluttering. “I— that’s so good, I—“

He leaned forward to mouth at her neck, and she arched against him. “Yeah?” he rasped in her ear. “Feels good getting fucked, babydoll? You like it?” He started mouthing at her neck and squeezing her ass, his fingers digging into her skin.

“I like it, I like it,” she chanted desperately. “Fuck, don’t stop, more—“

“My greedy girl,” he murmured, slamming into her. “So tight and wet for me, baby. All for me, isn’t it? Pussy’s all mine?”

“Uh huh,” she managed to force out. “God, you’re so big—“

“Nobody else could fill you up like I can, could they, sweetheart?”

“N— no, I—“

Tim rewarded her with another thrust. “Good girl. That’s my good girl.”

“More, please,” she begged, holding him close. He felt so good inside her. “Please, don’t stop, please—“

“Anything you want, Lea,” he promised, kissing her hungrily. “I’ll fuck you anytime you want, make you cum as much as you want, but you whatever you want. Whatever you want, fuck.”

“You,” she said without hesitation. “Just you, please, oh god, Tim, I—“

“I know,” he murmured, nipping at her lower lip affectionately. “You’ve got me, sweetheart. ‘m all yours.”

He wasn’t, not really, but she told herself that that was okay. It was okay.

“Are you mine, Lea?” he wanted to know, watching her with dark, lidded eyes. She nodded eagerly. Apparently, however, her lack of verbal response was inadequate, because his grip on her ass tightened enough to bruise, which she kinda hoped it would, to be honest. “If you’re mine, tell me. Tell me you’re mine. Only mine.”

“I’m yours,” Lea managed. “I belong to you, just you, I—“ Her words were cut off by a particularly harsh thrust that made her body jolt and her eyelashes flutter. “Oh, fuck, Tim, I—“

“That’s it,” he grunted. “You like it? You like it when I fill your greedy little pussy, my fuckin’ pussy, baby, all mine, I own it.” He was babbling, but his words made her clench around him. “You like it when I fuck you all full of my cum, Lea?”

“Yes,” she whimpered. “Need this, need you, need you inside me like this, I need it.”

“Of course you do,” he crooned, his voice a sugar-sweet murmur against the shell of her ear. “Poor, innocent little Lea. Had my dick and now you can’t get enough, huh? Got turned into a greedy cockslut, didn’t you?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, hauling him up to kiss her again. “Only for you, Tim,” she promised. “Only if it’s you.”

“Always me, babydoll,” he agreed easily. “Nobody else. Not ever, you got that? Only dick you’ll ever take.”

“Yeah,” she moaned, tangling her fingers in his hair as he jackhammered into her, the sound of skin slapping against skin bouncing off the walls of his dressing room. She didn’t know if anyone outside the room could hear them, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care one way or the other. “Yeah, Tim, just you, just you, I swear—“

“Fuckin’ take it, sweetheart,” he growled, sucking a fresh bruise into the sensitive skin of her throat. “Take this cock like the dirty little slut I turned you into.”

“Harder, harder, more—“

“Nuh uh,” he snapped sharply. “Who decides what you get, Lea?”

“You do,” she acquiesced with a whimper even as her walls clenched down on him.

“That’s a good girl,” Tim praised, his voice raspy and thick with arousal. She was drenched; the sounds of their desperate, hungry fucking were wet and obscene, but she never wanted to hear anything else but that, the sounds of them together and his voice telling her that he adored her, that she belonged to him. “My good girl.”

She wished she could take him deeper inside her, wished she could melt into him entirely, and her legs tightened around his waist as he pounded into her. “Fuck me, please, god, Tim, fuck me—“

“I am fucking you, greedy girl,” he pointed out with a dark chuckle. “Splitting this little pussy open on my dick.”

“Uh huh,” she whined, her walls clenching around him rhythmically. “Yeah, that feels— oh fuck, Tim, gimme—“

“Givin’ it to you, baby,” he muttered. “Gonna fuck you as much as you want, I promise.”

“Kiss me,” she pleaded, suddenly overcome with a desperate need to feel his mouth against her own. “Kiss me, please.”

She could feel his smile against her lips when he obliged her, tugging her lower lip gently between his teeth before sucking her tongue into his mouth. She moaned, her fingers tightening in his curls, her breasts pressed against his chest.

When Tim pulled away, he began pressing wet, messy kisses into the skin of her face and neck, mouthing at the tops of her breasts. Still, he fucked her, each slide of his cock somehow better than the last, and she wished, however impossibly, that she could have this forever, that this complete and utter bliss could never end.

“Baby,” he groaned, panting hotly against the already flushed—sensitive, bruised—skin of her throat. “God, baby.”

“‘m yours, Tim,” she whimpered, her eyes clenched shut from the overwhelming amount of pleasure coursing through her veins like a drug. “All yours.”

“You’re goddamn right you are,” he almost growled. “Wanna feel this tight little pussy cum for me. You want that, baby? You wanna cum all over my cock?”

Want fluttered in her abdomen, and she nodded eagerly. “Yes, please, please make me cum.”

“Touch yourself, then,” he demanded, fucking her harder, impossibly harder. “Rub that pretty little clit until you cum.”

As soon as the words registered in her fucked-out brain, she snaked a hand between them, brushing a fingertip over her throbbing, oversensitive clit, and he rewarded her by digging his fingers into her ass and slamming into her.

“Good girl,” he praised, watching her face closely, eyes dark and pupils blown with lust. “Rub it, sweetheart. So pretty when you cum, when you’re getting your sweet little pussy pounded.”

She barely even needed to move her hand at all because his thrusts were jolting her body enough that that was all that was needed to stimulate her, really, and she moaned, her hips trying to roll against his but unable to with the tight hold he had on her. She couldn’t speak; all that came out of her mouth were mindless cries of, “Unh, unh, unh, ah, oh—“

And still, through it all, Tim talked to her. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Cum for me, Lea. Such a dirty thing, aren’t you? Needing to be fucked and filled, to cum with a cock deep inside your slutty, eager little pussy?”

She could do nothing but moan wordlessly, her toes curling as she neared her peak.

“C’mon, babydoll,” he groaned. “Can feel you ‘bout to cum, sweetheart. C’mon. Give it to me. Own this pussy, every fuckin’ orgasm you have belongs to me. My pretty little slut, fuckin’ cum for me, baby, c’mon—“

And then she did, her back arching and muscles spasming as she cried out. Tim didn’t even give her body time to calm down before he crashed his lips to hers, kissing her bitingly as he fucked into her.

“Gonna cum,” he warned into her mouth, and she wrapped her arms around his neck to encourage him. “‘m gonna—“ He wasn’t able to finish the thought, because he flooded her with a groan of her name, his thrusts becoming harsh and slow and deep.

It wasn’t until several minutes later, when they were relaxing on the couch with her in his lap, that it occurred to her that she was in love with him.

The happiest of birthdays to my bestie @softhecreator, you’re fuckin awesome girl and if anyone tells you different lmk and I’ll take care of it 😘

Also yeah I was horny when I wrote the smut here idk what else to tell you bro 🤷‍♀️

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 @camille-1019 @lixzey @shycreationdreamland @gossamer19 @chalametbich

To be added, please ask 💗

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roxygen22 · 4 days

Note

Sick Timothee with fem reader as caretaker plz ❤️

Thanks to You

Summary: Fem!reader takes care of feverish Laurie

A/N: Decided to write using Timothee's Laurie as the main character because the time period makes fevers much more scary.

Laure's restless stirring awakened you. You blinked, unable to focus since it was still dark out. You reached your hand out to place gentle, comforting pressure on his arm, as you often did if he was suffering a nightmare, but instantly drew it back in shock. He was putting off more heat than your fireplace.

You grabbed the oil lamp on your nightstand and raised the flame. There was a sheen of sweat blanketing his forehead and chest, though he was shivering like he had been out in the snow. "Fever," you breathed out worriedly.

You jumped out of bed and quickly set to work gathering supplies. You immersed a cloth in water and wrung it out to place on his forehead. You rubbed the herb poultice Mrs. March had shown you how to make onto the soles of his feet and covered them with socks. He shifted his head side to side, mumbling your name.

"[Y/N], [Y/N]," he muttered weakly.

You ran your fingers through his damp curls. "I'm here, my love. I'm here."

"[Y/N]?" Laurie's glazed eyes opened, but they never focused on you.

He's delirious, you thought to yourself. You looked out the window, countenance falling as you realized the blizzard meant you could not send for help. The whole town was snowed in. "You have to get better, Laurie," you stated as you cradled your slight baby bump with your free hand.

He became slightly more alert as the dawn arrived. You took the opportunity to get him to drink some water. He was shaking so much from the throes of fever that he could not hold the cup without spilling. You sat beside him to support his head and hold the cup to his lips. You were grateful to see that at least some water made it into his mouth. Exhausted, he flopped his head back onto the pillow and looked up at you.

"Y-you should k-keep your distance. You d-don't n-need to get sick, too," Laurie said through chattering teeth.

"Nonsense. Who else is going to take care of you, hmm?" You half-smiled, not quite enough to reach your eyes. You wet the cloth again and gently wiped his neck, chest, and arms. "Are you hungry?" you asked when you finished, but there was no response. He had already fallen asleep again. You surveyed the dark purple circles under his eyes and the pallor of his skin.

You rose from your perch by Laurie's side to start some soup for when he woke again. He came to about an hour later. You helped him sit up against the headboard so he could eat. He scowled when you attempted to spoon feed him. "Come on, now. You need to eat something to keep your strength, and I'm sure you don't want to spill hot soup in your lap," you chided. He rolled his eyes and acquiesced. You chuckled. At least he was feeling good enough to give you an attitude.

The food did him some good, because soon he wanted to get up and move around. You helped him to the front room to his armchair. While he read by the fire, you changed the damp sheets. It wasn't long before he was ready to lay down again. The two of you repeated this cycle throughout the day.

When night came once more, the fever ravaged again. You covered him with every blanket in the house and practically laid on top of him to warm him up. The shaking eventually relented, giving both of you a reprieve. You fell asleep sitting next to the bed, holding his hand while your head rested on your arm.

You woke to the feeling of a hand playing with your hair. You groggily raised your head and were greeted by Laurie's smile. "Good morning, my dove."

You smiled at the nickname and placed a kiss on his forehead. "Your fever broke," you said in relief. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. "I was so worried."

"I'm alright, thanks to you."

<><><><><>

Masterlist

Tag List:

@croatianprincess

@bluizh

@jindongdongie

@groovyqueer

#timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #laurie laurence #theodore laurence #little women 2019 #timothée x you #timothee x you #sick fic #hurt/comfort #timothée x reader #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet x you #reader insert #female reader #pregnant reader

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lixzey · 7 months

Text

Letters

info: mention of blood and hospitalization.

a/n: This one is the last short letter. Get ready for destruction in the final ten letters.

The Eighth Letter

Timothée sighed before opening the eighth letter. What had happened on the day she wrote the seventh letter? He ripped the letter open; it was dated July 23, 2023. Two weeks after the seventh one. Why the hell was this one dated two weeks after the last one?

Dear Timothée,

Sorry, I haven't written in the past two weeks. I just got back from the hospital, I've been admitted for something you won't understand. Everything's terrible, and I can't stand it anymore.

It's bullshit, all of it. The past keeps coming back to haunt me.

Fear is the mind killer; it really fucking is.

I can't do this anymore.

My life is a nightmare. Help me.

Please.

All my love,

Y/n.

Timothée stared at the letter; there were stains of red—blood—on the edge of the paper. Timothée suddenly felt a sense of fear wash over him.

What happened to Y/N? Why was she in the hospital for two weeks? What happened in the past eleven years before she started writing to him? Who or what came back to haunt her? Where is she now? Was she alright? Timothée's mind was spiraling; he had to find her.

Timothée grabbed his phone and dialed his agent's number.

“Can you get me a private investigator? I need to find someone.”

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colorspoem · 1 year

Text

დ ᕯ 🆁𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀 -`ღ´-

യ ﾟ꒰...슪䩞﹅ 𓏸𓈒 𝕟ᴥᩚ[ꦞ] ៳𝕻𝒐ᩚ𝘀𝘁 𖣠⸝៸㍿ֵ★ » ᓭི༏ᓯྀ💬🎣 ꕤ.ﾟ𝗹𝕚𝗸ᦕᩨ ✿𝆬 ᥰᩚ 𝕽𝖊𝖻𝗅𝗼ິ̫𝗴 ꙳ ଳ͘🏑🌐🌳ᨀ 𝖼𝗿ᦸᩚ𝗱𝗶𝘁𝘀 ⟢ ✿⃝㍈ ꩅǝᩙ ᯾❜

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yup-thats-me · 2 years

Text

Hope you're happy, but don't be Happier || Timothée Chalamet x reader

pairing: asshole!cheater!Timothée x fashion!designer!reader

warning: cheating, hyperventilation, angst

summary: Timothée did what you thought he'd never ever do. He cheated.

a/n: ik I said I wouldn't be writing for a while but if I don't write this now, my mind will torture me.

note: I'm in no way hating on the girl. I just named her Kate. If anyone's name is Kate, don't come at me. She's just an oc

title: inspired by the song Happier by Olivia Rodrigo

masterlist

THE burning sensation of the amber liquid down your throat gave you a sense of relief. Music blasting from behind those loud speakers had given you a headache but you refused to leave just yet. Looking around the club, your eyes searched for the blond girl who in the first place brought you here with her, because according to Florence, you needed to "forget about the dickhead".

The 'dickhead' being one of her costars, Timothée Fucking Chalamet, or more simply put, your ex-boyfriend of two and a half years.

Your relationship was beautiful at the beginning. Timothée was so sweet. Bringing you flowers everyday, complimenting you any given chance, taking you on numerous award shows. You even had attended the Oscars with him as his dare this March but what you missed were his lack of affection towards you.

From the last months of your relationship, he became distant from you. Texting you at intervals of two days, and they were also times where he would leave you in read and apologise the next day saying he was busy. You being you, you believed him. Thinking his schedule is tight as always but that wasn't the case. No.

Things took a turn when he said he'd be attending the Coachella this year. It was not rare but what was rare was that he said he wouldn't be able to take you with him. Giving the excuse of having an important meeting with a director.

You didn't wanted to believe him at first, but you did nonetheless. Your own schedule was packed. Being a top fashion designer for PRADA had its perks. You were even at the NY airport to bid him goodbye. He had even kissed you on the cheeks.

"I'm feeling so bad that I have to go without you, mon cherié. I'll miss you greatly", he had said.

Lie. A. Fucking. Lie

Although you wouldn't have known it was a lie if it wasn't for Florence. She had gone to your office the next day he had left, to give you some company.

•••

Florence was sulking in one of your comfiest leather chairs scrolling through her phone. You on the other hand, were drawing on a piece of paper, a new outfit inspiration striking you.

Your eyes were concentrated at the sketch in front of you when a gasp distracted you. Picking up your head, you saw Flo now sitting straight, a hand covering her agape mouth. Your frowned.

"What happened, Flo?" You asked continuing on your sketch.

She regained her composure, opening her mouth again to speak before she closed it again. "Nothing."

You stopped drawing the lines. "What is it?" You crossed your hand over your chest, a demanding look on your face.

"Nothing! I said," she avoided your stern gaze set on her.

You stepped out of your chair, going behind her to take her phone from her grasp. Before she could retract the device when she felt your presence behind her, but it was too late. The phone was in your hands now.

A playful smile adorned your lips as you unlocked the device, knowing the password. Your eyebrows knitted again seeing blurred video of a guy kissing some girl. After a minute or two, you finally figured what the video was.

It was your Timmy, kissing a girl while the music from behind them blared. It was a girl. A girl who was not you.

"I didn't wanted you to see, Y/n. Sit down," Florence got up fron her seat, placing her hands on your shoulders to sit you down on her chair instead.

The phone fell from your hand but Florence was too worried about you to pick it up at the moment. Your hands covered your mouth, tears already falling from your eyes.

Your breaths became ragged. Short inhales and long exhales. A minute after, you were hyperventilating. Florence dropped down on her knees in front of you, her hands holding yours tightly.

"Y/n. Y/n. Look at me," she commanded you. "Breathe with me okay?"

You nodded your head shakily. You began to breathe with her. Inhaling when she is, exhaling the same. After about fifteen minutes, you were breathing normally again. Florence was hugging you, your side pressed to her body as you sobbed in her chest. "How could he Flo? HOW COULD HE!" you screamed.

Florence was trying her best to not cry watching you cry. You were like a sister to her.

"Shh. Shh. Everything will be okay."

You sobbed and sobbed for what felt like years when you felt like the tears ran out. Florence was still there, sitting beside you. "I believed him. I trusted him. He threw it away. He forgot about me."

Three days later he returned. When he first stepped in your shared house, he felt out of place. The lights were out. Not a sight of you. Usually, you'd jump in his arms when you'd hear him coming through the door.

"Y/n?" He called for you.

You stepped out from the dark kitchen, your hand over your chest, teeth gritted, trying to hide the anger.

"Ah! Y/n. Missed you baby," he came to hug you but you pushed him away making him frown.

You shoved your phone in his chest stumbling him back a bit. With a confused look, he took your phone as looked at the illuminated screen. As soon as he realised what he was watching, a guilt filled look took over his eyes.

"Baby this is now what it looks like," he began. Typical.

"Yeah? What does it looks like to you Timothée? Because to me it looks like you're kissing a girl and YOU SEEM TO BE ENJOYING IT!"

He shut up knowing he'd messed up. "Huh. That's what I thought."

You walked past him, bumping his shoulders harshly in the process. Your went upstairs for your packed suitcase. Timothée was still looking down when he heard the door unlock. He ran to you, grasping your wrist.

"Where are you going?"

"Why does it matter? We're done Timothe Chalamet. Hope you're happy."

That was the last time either of you had seen each other.

•

Now at the bar, those good times with him came back. It's been hardly been a month. It was hard for you to say the least. You were staying at Florence's. She was kind enough to let you love with her till you'd buy a new apartment. Your hands pulled at the roots of your hair out of frustration.

"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," a voice known all too well was heard from beside you.

Turning your head, the sight before your eyes made your blood boil.

There Timothée was, his hands on this gilr's waist, who you presumed was the same girl from Coachella given by her appearance, placing sloppy kisses on her neck. She even strained her neck to provide him more skin to kiss to.

You placed the glass on the counter so loudly, you swore you heard it crack on impact. With a loud voice you spoke, "Another one please."

Your actions made them both stop and part form each other. Timothée leaned from beside the girl to look at the doer. His eyes widened when he recognised you.

"Y/n?" He questioned.

You turned to him, the fakest smile on your lips. "Timothée. What a coincidence,"you said through gritted teeth.

Before any of you could speak another word, Florence came back. She too when saw Timothée's face, her lips turned to a line. "Timothée."

"Uhh. A what a coincidence indeed. Anyways guys meet Kate my girlfriend, Kate meet Florence Pugh and Y/n L/n...my former acquaintance."

"Kate" turned to you. "The Y/n L/n? OMYGOD, I love your outfits!" She chirped.

You smiled at her, not wanting to come off as rude. Oh well she stole your man. "Thank you. And just so you know, I'm not one of his fucking acquaintances. Timothée's my ex of two and a half year," you said getting up from your seat. "I'm going to get some fresh air," you told Florence, notting the way she smiled at you proudly.

You walked out the people-filled space out in the parking lot. Timothée came out too, following you.

"How have you been?" He asked awkwardly.

"A month. A fucking month. It's all it took for you to get over me." You completely ignored his question.

He sighed. "Look I'm sorry Y/n. I shouldn't have done it. Can we be friends at least?"

"Sorry? You think that's gonna make us friends again? You go out there, without me, kiss some random girl, and had the balls to say you missed me? You fucked up Timothée."

Silence fell over the two of you. You being too angry and guilt was eating Timothée. Although you were fucking angry with him, but you couldn't deny the way your heart fluttered seeing him for the first time in a month. You yearned for him even when you didn't wanted to. There was still a part of you that begged to be with him.

You sighed deeply, begining to walk in.

"Timothée. I hope you're happy, but don't be happier."

#timothée chalamet x reader #timothee x you #timothee imagine #timothee fanfic #timothee x reader #timothée x you #timothee chalamet x you #timothee x y/n #asshole!Timothée

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