#timothee chalamet angst

[hamlets-ak]

you don’t think i’m a bad person ? ༊*·˚

༘♡ regulus: you don’t think i’m a bad person ?

༘♡ y/n: all i think is that i love you

in which you find out that regulus got the dark mark

You leaned against a pillar, your back feeling the cold transferring from the marble to your exposed back, making shivers run to every part of your body. The music coming out of a pianoforte filled your ears, fading all the other sounds of people surrounding you, dancing, laughing, chatting…

The House Elves did great job with the decorations. The place was filled with white roses, his favorite. Your eyes traveled to the fresco at the ceiling, falling down to the paintings hanging on the walls and moving slowly to the marble ground in front of you.

There was no point of you being there if he wasn't. You had examined every single face in the room and none of them belonged to him. To your one and only. To the light of your eyes, the light of your soul, the light of your everything. To your Regulus Black.

Regulus Black, the person you would kill every star for, burn every tree, drain every ocean. You would trap all the earth's oxygen in a jar and give it to him, you would shrink the moon so he could carry it in his pocket. He was your everything.

And it was killing you like a slow-acting yet painful poison the fact that it's been a while since you exchanged your last words. He had decided to abruptly cut the ropes connecting you without any explanation.

You had written him plenty of times about how much you missed him. How much you missed the days you were lying in bed together wrapped around one another, his hands on your forehead as he was staring at the ceiling calm and serene, and your eyes sinking into his stare. You would give the world to go back to these days, when you were walking around the room feeling his eyes fixed on you, and you pretended that it didn't affect you at all.

You had written to him that your life didn't have meaning without him. You were miserable.

Only then did he send a letter to you with two sentences written in a sloppy handwriting you've never seen from him. It concerned you because even though you could tell that it was his handwriting, his letters, it wasn't his hand that was writing it:

Dear Y/N,

I'd rather see you miserable than dead.

Burn the letter.

R.A.B.

Of course, you didn't burn the letter. If these were his last words to you, you wanted to have them, even if they hurt.

Every time you read those two sentences, you could feel knives piercing your heart, breaking it, and letting it fall in pieces right in front of his feet.

You breathed out heavily, feeling like you were suffocating, like you couldn't breathe. So, you decided to go for a walk around the manor. Besides, there was no point in you staying at the ballroom and watching all the people having fun, when he wasn't there with you.

You made your way deeper into extremely quiet halls, then to another and then another, as if drawn by a supernatural force to a lane that was leading to another world.

Weak square lights were balanced at the pillars, as the gleaming moon was pouring her pale light inside. Everything was dark but you kept walking.

Suddenly, the sound of your shoes started to quieten and got replaced by a painful scream. It turned your blood cold, utterly horrifying. Your body froze for a few moments before you took out your wand.

From the last door to your right, you saw a faint light coming from a half-opened door. You moved slowly deeper in that direction your grip tight around your wand ready to attack or defend yourself from the scream.

Another animalistic scream was heard and you felt paralyzed by fear. You gulped but you kept going until you heard another painful cry followed by sobs. You weren't sure if it was a wild animal or a poor child.

« Fuck! », the voice cried loudly. Your lips separated and your wand fell down. Without much thinking you burst into the room, letting the door hit back at the wall with a thunderous sound.

Regulus was curled on the floor, his back balanced against the cold wall, legs close to his pounding chest. His dark curls were concealing his face that was buried between his legs.

The moonlight slipped through the window swimming inside to give light to his form. His tie relaxed hanging from his neck and the sleeves of his shirt raised as he was holding tightly his left forearm, pressing his fingers on it.

If it wasn't for the damn moon you wouldn't have seen anything, but your eyes fell immediately on the place he was holding.

Your lips quivered and you stood there like a statue looking at him, not being able to move or say a word.

« Y/N, I'm not joking, get the fuck out of here! », he shouted looking at you angrily. You opened your mouth taking a few steps back. Regulus had never raised his voice like that, not to you, not to anyone. You were completely terrified by his tone, his mad expression, and the Dark Mark stained on his arm.

« What the hell Regulus? What is this? », you asked your voice high as you kept shaking your head in disbelief.

« What does it look like to you? », Regulus glared back at you. His face was deformed by pain. Your lips couldn't stop trembling and your eyes brought tears that were streaming like small rivers down to your cheeks. You wished the old Regulus could come to you, hug you tightly, and with his tongue lick the sorrow away.

« Regulus, » you murmured his name sweetly like a prayer. Regulus breathed out and covered his face with his palms. He started to cry as well because he hated being the reason of your tears. If he could cry for both of you and stop those drops from running down your chin, he would.

« Please, get the fuck out of here! », he screamed at you through sobs. Watching him like that made you walk closer. Regulus wouldn't hurt you, not your Reg, not the guy that was putting flowers behind your ear.

You sat right beside him slowly slipping on the floor. Regulus shook his head. He couldn't understand why you weren't leaving.

« Please, leave, » he murmured. Even if you wanted to leave, you couldn't. You were drawn to him like a magnet. You loved him so much, nothing mattered to you. He was in pain, that's all you saw, you wanted to take his hand and kiss it. You wanted to kill anyone who did this to him and caused him that much pain.

« I am not going anywhere, Reg, » you said, voice soft.

« You don't get it, Y/N, » he replied. « I had to do this! » You touched his shoulder and pressed your eyes shut tightly. You were so scared of him, but you loved him too much. If he was going to be your doom, let his shoulder be the last thing you touched. « I had to, » he cried even harder.

« Why? », you asked. You didn't know what else to say. « Because of your parents? » Regulus lightly raised his gaze for you to meet his swollen gloomy eyes. « We made plans, remember? That we were going to get the fuck out of here. »

« And you think he wouldn't find us? », Regulus asked with a bitter smile. You didn't speak back. « Y/N, I didn't do this because of my parents. » He looked away.

« Then? »

« I did this because of you, » he said and bit his lips. « I did this because if I didn't, he said he would hurt you, in ways… you don't even want to imagine. » You gulped and for a moment felt completely vulnerable and exposed.

« Me? Wh-why? »

« Because the only way he could get me, was through you, » his lips quivered for a moment. « Because Y/N, you are the only thing I care about in this life. » More tears ran down your cheeks as you looked at him. You sealed your lips together to get strength. Your arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. For a moment he stayed still, surprised by your reaction, but then he tied his arms around you too, holding you for dear life. « That's why I wrote you this stupid letter, » he said to your ear. « I can't be with you, Y/N, not like that. » His forehead touched yours lightly rubbing his head against yours. You held him on the back of his neck, feeling his curls tangling between your fingers.

« I missed you so much, » you said. He wrinkled his eyebrows pleadingly, the fingers of his left hand wrapping around your wrist to feel your pulse. He was shaking and felt heavy, as if the earth was dragging only him down and no one else. Frozen thumb drew the line of your most prominent vein. He tried to show you how it felt to be with someone like him; someone heavy, and cold, and helpless; someone in pain. But you didn’t care because you were holding his head steady and would never let it fall.

« You're killing me, » Regulus sealed his eyes, shaking his head. He let his fingers slip down. « Please, don't say that. We can't. I can't do this to you. »

« Regulus, listen to me, » you said, lightly lowering your head to look straight into his eyes. His gaze couldn't meet back yours and fell to the floor. « There is nothing that can drive me away from you. » He left a shaky breath slowly raising his stare.

« You don't think I'm a bad person ? »

« All I think is that I love you. »

#hamlets-ak #regulus black #r.a.b #regulus arcturus black #marauders era #regulus x y/n #regulus black fanfiction #regulus black imagine #regulus x reader #regulus fanfiction #regulus angst #regulus black x reader #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee fanfic #timothee angst #timothee chalamet angst #bones and all #you don't think i'm a bad person? #all i think is that i love you #angst

[strawberriescherrieskiwi]

Scars from the Past

Anon request:

Request- Timmy scaring you during a fight and making you flinch. I'm a slut for angst and you write it so deliciously. Happy ending of course.

Wordcount: 1.2K+

Description: Arguing with your boyfriend isn’t a new thing, but when you start thinking about all your repressed trauma, things take a turn.

A/N: The Angst is alive in this one. Thank you for the request. I’ve never been a fan of Angst but I enjoyed writing my last few Angst ones.

Warning: Angst, mention of past abuse, couple arguing. 

“Timmy I am done with this argument,” you sighed, walking into the house and putting the groceries on the counter, rubbing your temple.  You couldn’t even remember why you two were fighting anyways, it’s been going on for days now. 

One of you would bring it up and then you two were going at it again. This time it happened in public and while you had no problem arguing with your boyfriend, you hated doing so in public. It was a private matter and everyone in the store didn’t need to hear about your relationship problems.

Timmy came into the house moments later, scoffing. “Of course when I bring him up you don’t want to talk anymore, typical,” he said, slamming the bags on the table.

You narrowed your eyes at him, going through the bags and making sure nothing broke in his anger. “Can you not slam things right now,” you said.

“Not until you tell me about the flirty text from Matt on your phone,”  he said, voice raising in anger.

You stared at him for a moment, unsure if you wanted to answer. In the years you’ve been together, you’ve never seen Timothee so upset before, yelling as angrily as he was now. You never had to fear him before, you never believed he would hurt you, but you could feel the fear crawl up your throat as if a hand was tightening and cutting off your airway.

“Timmy,” you whispered, helplessly. Matt was a co-working, one you were not interested in, and the moment you received his flirting text you shut him down the next time you saw him.

But Timmy didn’t notice as he opened and slammed cabinets putting away dishes.  “If you want to be with someone else so badly then at least have the decently to tell me?” He was shouting, but you were trying to breathe and not let your hands tremble.

Your boyfriend before Timmy was horrible to you and while you mentioned it to Timmy before, you never went into details about how bad it was. How your ex used to get drunk and yell and scream at you and then it escalated to him throwing things at you and hitting you.

Your eyes closed as the memories forced themselves to the surface. It was difficult for you not to tremble. “I-I, just want you,” you mumbled terrified right back in your own apartment with your ex. The past and present blurring terribly.

Timmy scoffed again, walking towards you. “Of fucking course you say that to my face,” His hand reached out and you flinched as tears ran down your face. 

You both froze. Timmy’s hand, which was reaching for the apples in the bag behind you, dropped to his side as he stared at you with wide confused eyes. Your fear could only see how close his hand had been to your body. You imagined he was going to hit you, or grab you roughly and throw you to the ground. 

Your Ex loved throwing you down and kicking you. A sob tore from your throat and your legs gave out. Timmy was quick to try to catch you, but you cried more, begging him not to hurt you. In your fight to get away from him, he let go of you and you crashed to the ground.

“Mon Amour… no... I-I. I would. I would never hurt you,” Timmy whispered, dropping to the ground, but still not moving any closers lest to frighten you more.

You pulled your knees to your chest, sobbing quietly. You were so ashamed that you were scared, that you were crying. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you sobbed to him.

“You’re sorry? You have nothing to be sorry about. I-I’m sorry. I scared you, my whole world, I’m so sorry.” You could hear the pain in his voice as he tried not to sob himself. It wasn’t about him right now, it was about you and he would be damned if first scared you and then broke down and made it about himself.

You worked on breathing deeply, reminding yourself that you left your ex. That you were with Timmy and he would never hurt you. That you loved him, that you were safe, you weren’t in the past, this was your kitchen of the love you shared with the love of your life.

“Do you want me to leave? Call someone? Is there anything I can do Mon Amour?” He asked after a moment.

“Hold me,” you begged.

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, Timmy was wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his chest. His hands rubbed soothingly up your arms and back as he smothered kisses along your head. “I love you. Never would hurt you. Love you so much, forgive me,” he begged so quietly you barely heard him. “Your safe.”

Slowly you calmed down, breathing the scent that was Timmy, beagles, shampoo, and something earthly. His scent grounded you and you wrapped your own arms around him tightly, needing him close.

He didn’t ask, but you knew he wanted to know. You should have told him sooner, but you were afraid. You were afraid he would think you were damaged and break up with you, or worse when times when old wounds burned, that he would take that as his opening to hurt you as well.

“He used to get angry, yell, throw things and hurt me,” you whispered into his chest. Timmy nodded against you, rocking you both slightly.  “You don’t have to tell me,” he assured you.

“I want to,” you said as all your past abuse and fears spilled from your lips. You cried again, but he never stopped rocking you and kissing the top of your head.

“You are so strong, Mon Amour. God, you are so strong, to leave, and know you deserved better than that,” he whispered.

“Only after a year,” you said, beating yourself up.

“Doesn’t matter. You still left. And I’m sorry for yelling at you. For getting jealous and for scaring you. I was out of line,” He said, tentatively touching your face. You looked up at him, his own face just as soaked with tears as yours.

“You deserve the world, Mon Amour. I want nothing more than your forgiveness, but don’t give it to me until I earn it.” Timmy hated that he did this to you. That he resurfaced these memories, that because of his anger, you feared for your safety. 

He wanted to be the person that wiped your tears and protect you, not the person that caused them or needed protection from. His heart ached as he stared into your sad eyes. Slowly moving closer, gauging your reaction, he wiped your tears and kissed both your eyelids, then your cheeks, nose, and forehead before pausing at your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked wistfully.

Instead of answering with words, you kissed him sorrowfully, painfully, and lovingly. You knew your fear was misplaced and that he wouldn’t hurt you. You’re happy with him and one fight wouldn’t change that. You knew you two would have to talk about the fight and you weren’t as over what happened to you as you believed you to be, but you already forgave him.

“Never again, I’ll scare you. Ever, I promise,” he mumbled against your lips.

“I believe you. I trust you.”

                                                        Taglist.

@gatoenlaciudad​

#timothee chalamet imagines #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #timmy x reader #timothee chalamet angst #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet

[thebetawolfgirl]

A PR Nightmare pt 2

Pairing: Timmy x Reader

Warnings: Angst with a happy, smutty ending.

A/N: @tchalamss Part two up!

A PR Nightmare pt 2

Timmy had searched everywhere, called everyone but he still couldn’t find his y/n. If was even worthy to call her that anymore.

He had no intention of going to the Met this year, he had specifically told his manager he would not go. But those fucking Jenners always find a way to twist the arms of everyone around them to do what THEY want. He had said no photos either, but it was the MET GALA. You couldn’t avoid photographers even if you tried.

Now here he was sitting in his empty bedroom unwashed and unshaven for days.

He had known the second his foot hit the last step to the front door something wasn’t right. A feeling of dread and fear washed over him like a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head when he walked into an empty and eerily quiet home, he through the house slowly, his fear and dread slowly growing when he reached the table in the hall and saw the note with the picture and her hurt words on the paper.

‘NOOOOOOO!’ He roared crushing the paper in his fist stormed up the stairs to the bedroom and found only his belonging in the wardrobe and drawers.

He nearly tore the house apart looking for y/n hoping she was hiding somewhere in the house to punish him. He grabbed his phone and with shaking hands called everyone he knew asking if they had heard from her or where she could have gone.

That was three days ago. After going through every contact on the phone book, talking to everyone, even getting his entire management to search for her, he came up with nothing.

He crawled into their shared bed, curled up under the sheets with her picture and waited to rot or die.

He ignored his phone and on the second day when Kylie came to see him he told her to fuck off that this was all her fault and she ruined his life!

After telling her he would kill her if she or her family came near him again he slammed the door in her terrified face and crawled over to the sofa and curled up in to a ball.

He honestly didn’t know how he ended up in the bed. But he woke up after a week hearing the bath water running and home cooking. He lifted his head squinting at the open curtains and groans covering his head with the covers, when he heard a small voice of an angel.

‘You’re awake, finally.’

He shot up like a bolt and felt his head spinning before he lifted himself off the bed and onto the floor forgetting he hadn’t eaten a thing in a week and a half, but found the strength to crawl over to her and wrap his arms around her ankles whimpering and clinging to her.

She pushed his hair back helping him to stand unevenly on his feet, as he moved his arms to hold her waist and let his head fall tiredly against her shoulder and began mumbling incoherently while sobbing.

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’

‘Shhh, it’s okay. I’m home now.’ She whispered to him holding his head up making him look at her.

‘I should never have left you the way I did. Mark contacted me and explained everything, how you completely ignored her the entire night. How you only talked about me. When you did talk of course.’ She smiled at him running her thumb over his cheek as he swayed against her.

‘Now we’re going to get you into the bath and get you washed and in fresh pyjamas, then we’re gonna get some food. You haven’t eaten in a week, so we need to build your strength up again.’

He nodded, more awake now ‘I’m sorry.’ He croaked his voice raw from lack of use.

She pecked his nose nodding

‘Me too, I should’ve stayed and let you explain everything.’

She helped him into the bathroom and washed his hair gently untangling his curls, smiling when he moaned closing his eyes, then she helped him get dressed.

They spent the next few days rebuilding his strength back to as it was.

During that time they talked about everything, with Timmy deciding to terminate the contract with Kylie Jenner. When y/n began to protest he shook his head ‘I can’t lose you again, y/n. I can’t. That was the worse time in my life. I can’t do it again. I know my priorities now, it’s you!’

She nodded and leaned forward to peck his lips when he pulled her against him to deepen the kiss. She tried to pull away ‘Timmy, we should wait until you’re stronger-‘

He silenced her by pushing his tongue passed her lips and deepening the kiss pulling her against him. She climbed onto his lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders kissing him more intensely.

Timmy flipped them over pinning her beneath him and began to undress her, she pulled his T-shirt over his head messing his curls up and smiled pulling him down for another kiss.

He removed her blouse and tossed it aside and made quick work of their jeans and underwear.

She sat up with him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he lifted her up before lowering her down on him, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rocked with her at a steady pace as he kissed up her shoulder and neck.

She tugged on his curls gently pulling his head back and kissed and nipped his neck causing him to groan from the back of his throat, he held her tighter against him thrusting into her faster and her harder until they both came hard clinging to each other and he lay her back against the pillows trying to catch their breaths he kissed and nipped up her chest before meeting her lips in a long lasting kiss before resting his head on her shoulder burying his face in her neck.

She breathed heavily running her fingers through his damp hair and down his back gently then up again as he closed his eyes falling asleep to the sound of her heartbeat.

They had many obstacles ahead of them, but if they could get through the Jenners they would survive anything.

Whatever came next, they were ready for it.

@tchalamss

@sufferingstarlight

@gatoenlaciudad

@kteezy997

@lixzey

#lil timmy tim #timothèe chalamet #timothée hal chalamet #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet smut #angst with a happy ending #timothee chalamet angst #part 2 #timmy x reader #timmy fanfics

[timottea]

Could u do an angst t x reader in which like yn n him broke up months ago but like they kinda run into eachother n talk if that makes sense

HI oh my god this was buried embarrassingly deep in my reqs but if you're still around i hope you like it my love 💗

cw: swearing, angst, one guy being a creep on the street but other than that we good fam

“could i have that to go?”

your head snaps up from returning your wallet to your bag, ears piqued as you wait for more conversation, for the french undercurrent, for the way he – and only he – will thank the barista a thousand times before exiting.

“thank you, thanks so much, man,” timothée says, and it’s too late to bow out gracefully.

scanning the coffee shop quickly, it’s a damning conclusion: either you make a break for it out the front door and pray he doesn’t notice, or you hide behind that particularly leafy fern in the corner. either option is mortifying, but wouldn’t it be just as mortifying for you to make small talk with your ex that steers clear of oh timothée you broke my heart by the way there’s still a ton of your shit at my place which definitely doesn’t still hurt to look at.

timothée takes his coffee and croissant and turns for the door and there it is, that unmistakable walk, and you’re eyeing up the fern when all of a sudden he’s standing right in front of you.

his green eyes are clouded with emotion as he looks at you, eyes flitting across your face. as if he could ever forget your features.

you duck your head quickly, but the damage is done. the feelings come rushing back, and you’ve no choice but to steady yourself against the counter of wooden stirrers and sugar dispensers.

you hand him the sugar instinctually. he’s in you. every detail lives on, even one month later, right down to how he takes his coffee.

he takes a breath, nodding his thanks as he quietly takes it from you, fingers brushing against yours and it hurts, it hurts so much, this thing that you used to do together.

“thank you,” he mutters, stirring the sugar into his cup. “and i’m sorry. i’ll find a different coffee shop.”

“that’s not gonna help,” you laugh bitterly, handing him the creamer. you’d give anything to forget.

timothée nods knowingly, laughing brokenly, and swirls the creamer into his coffee with another thank you. too polite, too stilted, too painful.

“it doesn’t help that you’re everywhere,” you force yourself to say it, heart aching at the pain in his eyes. but if the universe isn’t sending you some sign for closure, then why are you both standing in this coffee shop at 2pm on a random tuesday?

he stirs his drink once clockwise, then twice anti-clockwise, and you wait for him to tap the stirrer against the rim like he always does, but he doesn’t and it’s new and why is it suddenly blurry in here?

you blink rapidly.

it’s been a month. he’s making new habits now. he’s made new habits now. probably with somebody new. definitely not with you.

you move abruptly, snatching up your coffee and pushing the exit door when it’s screaming at you to pull, but timothée’s faster and he yanks it open for you.

“i thought i could do this but i can’t,” your words smush into his shoulder as you brush past him. you’re already halfway down the street when he catches up, his long strides doubling yours.

you stop suddenly with sudden intent to rip the bandaid off and he skids to a halt, nearly colliding with a stop sign.

sheltered under a scaffolding, you wrap your arms protectively over your chest in an attempt to hold together your broken heart.

“timothée, i can’t do this,” you repeat tearfully, looking up at him. he swims in front of you and you blink back tears only for them to splash onto the concrete. traitors. you knew you should have hid behind the plant.

at your tears, the weight on his chest doubles, a desperation so impossibly heavy he’s certain he won’t breathe right ever again.

“i’m sorry,” he croaks around the lump in his throat, and you can tell he means it. really means it. he’s aching with it, earnest eyes baring his entire soul as they blink back their own tears. “i know this is selfish and just a really shitty thing to do but i can’t see you again and not tell you – i have to tell you—”

“you mind not taking up half the sidewalk?” a stranger shouts, shoving his way past timothée but not before scanning your body sickeningly.

you shudder, tightening your arms around yourself, but when timothée goes to call him out, you grasp his arm. electricity pulses through you as if you touched a livewire, lighting every cell of your body. you flinch as if shocked, clasping the hot coffee cup in your hands as if it could somehow ground you.

“i have to tell you how unbelievably fucking stupid i am,” timothée tries again. you watch the way his hands shake around his own coffee cup, how the bag containing his croissant rustles against his nervous fingers. it takes everything in you not to reach out, to stop the shaking.

but that would mean one month of hard work down the drain.

“look, i really can’t do this,” you sniffle, looking just over his shoulder. you can’t meet his eyes. he’s standing right here, looking at you so tenderly. “we broke up. you broke up with me.”

timothée shifts his weight from foot to foot. his hands long to reach out, so he slides them into his pockets, anxious fingers twisting those rings around and around.

“i just wanna talk,” he says over the city noise.

shaking your head, you push yourself forwards.

he follows. of course he follows. he was the one who taught you this neighbourhood.

“i…” timothée falters, worrying his lip between his teeth. “i really miss you.”

you meet his eyes and it’s a mistake.

“you’re making it worse,” you wince, wiping under your eyes. you turn away and he lets you, and that really hurts.

“i’m sorry, i’m a dick, i know this is impossible,” timothée speaks so gently it almost shatters you.

you look back.

“i can’t go anywhere,” you choke, desperate for him, desperate for reprieve. “i can’t walk down the street, i can’t watch tv, i can’t go get a damn coffee without you being there.”

he deflates as your words sink in.

“and even if you’re not actually there, you’re still there,” you rant, gesturing to the buildings around you, the backdrops to the first time he showed you the best place to get bagels, and the best shutter to make out against, and the best street to dance in the rain on.

“you say shit like you miss me and i can’t move on,” you sniff, scrubbing furiously at your cheeks as more tears fall.

“i can’t move on,” he stresses, laying his heart bare right there on the dirty, messy street. “you think i wanted to end this?”

eyebrows furrowed, you stare at him in confusion. “you’re the one that did!”

“because i was hurting you, not because i stopped loving you!”

“what, timmy—” you balk, incredulous. “you never hurt me!”

he steps closer. “all those times i had to leave you, months at a time, with shitty phone signal, when all i could give you was a fucking hoodie to sleep with.”

you step closer. “that’s why you ended it? man, didn’t you see it? i was so close to loving you. the only time you’ve ever hurt me was when you ended it, you asshole.”

timothée can’t help it. he grins. smug bastard.

closer, toe to toe, you’re convinced he can hear your heart thumping inside your chest. desperate to fight the smile playing on your lips, you shake your head, stubborn to the very end.

“wait, wait,” his voice drops, serious again. “yn, i need to tell you how sorry i am, truly, i never intended to end it, i just thought that would be the least painful thing moving forward—”

“screw you, timmy,” you laugh happily, still shaking your head even when he closes the gap, and, oh, his hands still cup your face. guess some habits die hard.

“say it will be different this time,” you whisper against his lips. “say you’ll give me every damn hoodie you own.”

“and the best phone signal in the world, i’m talking all the fucking bars,” he adds, thumbs stroking over your jaw.

you’re still laughing against his lips when they find yours.

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #timothee imagine #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet blurb #timothee chalamet x y/n #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet angst

[timchalamet-devoted]

Be My Lover

A/N: This one could be considered angst, I suppose? I'm not entirely sure what to call it, but just know that it's a desperate love confession.

Summary: After years of knowing him, you visit him in the late hours of the night, unable to keep it within you any longer.

Pairing: fem reader x Timothée

Info: desperate love confession, written from the first person, yearning

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Y/n- Are you OK? What is this?"

"Hey, uh, this was a really rash decision- I mean- I don't even really know what I'm doing here; it just sort of came to me that I should tell you -"

"Y/n, for goodness sake, it's a nightmare out there, get inside" He said as he pushed the front door open further, trying to usher me inside.

"Just shut up, before second guess my myself!"

He opened his mouth for a second to protest, but closed it evidently changing his mind. His eyes searched mine, slight concern mirrored in them.

Water droplets relentlessly splattered across my face, rolling down my neck, soaking my clothes until they clung to my skin.

My breathing escalated at the thought that the moment was now. That I had to tell him.

I waited for a few beats, recollecting my thoughts, before taking a deep breath.

"Timmy-" I wrung my hands together, uncomfortable in every possible way.

"Timmy, you first must understand that there is no easy way to say this, but I love you. You know me, I disregard my feelings most often, and I certainly have done so again this time. Maybe it's because I was afraid of all that I could lose if I let them get the better of me, and yet here I am. I've known you for the longest time, I've watched you grow and thrive and become one of the most remarkable actors of our time, fall in love and experience heartbreak. I was here of all of it. I know all of you inside and out, what makes you happiest and what pains you. I've stared into your green oceans for seven years, had the absolute joy to spend hours in your company, hold you on my arms and laugh along with you. And yet for all that time, I never took the second to realise that I loved you, Timothée. It was completly been boyond me." I felt hot liquid cascading down my cheeks, a sharp contrast to the cold rain droplets. My voice shook, frightened of what the consequences were going to be.

Was I going to lose him? This could ruin everything.

The thoughts punctured my heart, but I showed myself no mercy, willing myself to continue.

"It has been an unquenchable fire that has only grew once I started working with you. It's blinded the rest or my senses, so the only thing I see is you. I've fallen in love with your soul, with your uncompramised kindess and care, your blissful attitude and easy going nature, and how you can simply walk into any room and set it alight instantly. I used to lay in bed at night, wondering what was wrong with me for wanting you to kiss me, and hold me in your arms, and love me. I used to scold myself and shut down thse thoughts, reassuring myself that I loved you because you were my best friend. But I finally acknowledge," You paused,

" that I am unconditionally, and irrevocably in love with you." He sucked in a sharp breath at your words, as his eyes widened taking in what tou just said. His eyes flickered to yours for a second before falling to to his feet.

You inspected him, contemplating what was best to do next. A sudden surge of courage urged you on. You stepped up to him, face inches away from his. You could feel his warm breath against your wet skin, as you gently took his hands in yours, your way of asking him to look at you.

His eyes met yours, heavy with an emotion that you couldn't quite pin point, but hoped with your entire being that it was the same one that pumped through your heart.

"Timothée, my Timmy" your voice was gentle as you uttered the last words, "please, be my lover, and let me be yours."

Not a second later, his lips captured yours, passionate but tender. You could feel the love rolling off his tongue. He brought you closer to himself, your body flush against his, soaking his own shirt.

When you pulled away, the feeling of his lips against yours that lingered brought your heart joy, as a new found hope flooded your mind.

And finally, he spoke the words that you had been waiting an eternity to hear.

"I'd be honered, my dear y/n. He grinned up at me

"I love you"

#timothee #timothee chalamet #timothée #timothée chalamet #timothee imagine #timothee x reader #timothee x y/n #timothee fluff #timothee chalamet yearning #timothee chalamet angst #love confession

[chalametsimp]

When Doves Cry

Pairings: Timothée Chalamet x Reader

Summary: You and Timmy get into an argument before he leaves for filming, but you have something up your sleeve.

Word Count: 1,545

Warnings: angst, fluff

Authors Notes: I wrote this while half asleep, and also on my phone so 😌 sorry if this is more angst than fluff. Maybe I’ll make a part 2?? Credit to Prince for the title 😋

masterlist

Mercury. Cyanide. Amatoxin. Three of some of the most toxic substances to humans when ingested. Ever since he left to film for Dune, you felt like you had drank an awful concoction of all three. Every single day. Gut retch. Gut retching guilt, to be more specific. He said it was fine, but you couldn’t get the damn image out of your head. The image of him standing in the doorway, one foot out the door, ready for his newest venture. One foot stuck holding on for dear life, needing to stay just to be around you. Eyes blind with tears.

“You should have just told him!” Is the number one thought swirling through your head, besides memories of him. The memories felt like ghosts, because he was so far away from you. Living ghosts. You so desperately wanted to evict those ghosts from your mind and have him here as a physical tenant instead. He said it was okay, but you still can’t help but hate yourself for ever being a source of his sadness. It tore at your heart; up and down, side to side, and in directions that aren’t visible to human comprehension. But there wasn’t anything you could do about it at this point, the situation had gone beyond the point of no return. It just wouldn’t do any good to fess up now, you would feel worse admitting that you could have maybe told him sooner, you didn’t have to keep it a secret.

“Please, please,” he had called out into the thick air between you, followed by a plea in the shape of your name, “please just cancel on her and come see me instead! Say something came up! Like a funeral or something?”

“You can’t be serious, do you really think I would do something like that?” Your eyebrows furrowing together with confusion and contempt. Did he really think that you would do something like that?

“No, I- no,” he paused, trying to find the right words to say. He dishearteningly set his bag down on the ground to run a hand through his hair “I wouldn’t expect you to do that, you’re not a bad person, you’re a fucking angel,” pause again, a soft sigh followed that one “MY angel. And I want you to be there with me, at least for the first month, this shoot is going to be so long, I don’t want to get settled without you there. I’d do anything to have you with me.”

You so so badly wanted to be there for the first month, but you had a mandatory work thing for the first two weeks. You had already planned the surprise for him, to come see him as soon as your work was done.

“Timothée, babe, do you hear how selfish you sound right now?” This time it was your turn to sound desperate. You had worked so hard on this elaborate surprise, you felt like you needed so badly to go through with it. You regretted the word as soon as it had left your lips. “A funeral? Are you crazy?”

You regretted it even more when all he said was “I’m going to miss my flight, I love you. I have to go.” He didn’t have anything to say to you.

It was true, he did almost miss the flight. So that wasn’t a lie. When the plane had touched down and service was restored, his phone had a plethora of messages of adoration from you and anguished apologies. He forgave you. The two of you could never be upset with each other for very long. It was almost as if there was an unspeakable bond between the two of you. It was beautiful and terrifying. Terrifying because of how lost you would be without each other.

Now thinking about how he sounded while trying to convince you to cancel on an imaginary girls trip made you want to just crawl into his side of the bed and cry. So pleading and desperate. You now feel terrible for your original visceral reaction. When he had first propositioned that, it made you upset that he would try to get you to lie and screw over a friend like that, instead of just waiting. You had just been irritated by your own work all day and also in a funk of your own at the thought of being without him for even two weeks.

You can’t help but feel like a fool now. It was a made up situation. One that was hand crafted to convince him that you would be out of the country, so you could properly surprise him. You felt like it would eliminate any sneaking suspicion. Instead it was just a spark for an argument fueled by longing, needing and sadness.

You curse yourself. For calling him selfish. For calling him crazy. For not fessing up. For not double checking beforehand to see if his favorite restaurant in LA was open. The bags under your eyes were apparent, telling a story of your long morning. Your story of five am grocery runs. Of an impromptu five hour Air BnB kitchen experiment recreating Timothées favorite lunch, because his favorite place was closed on this particular day. Of course this particular day. Was the universe punishing you? Could the universe be this cruel?

Everything was worth it to treat him. You needed to make it up to him. Not just because of the guilt, but because you truly care for him. Part of caring for and about him means that you need to treat him in a way he deserves. Missing a night of sleep to flight, brining, prepping and cooking something for him was a small sacrifice to be made if it meant it would make him happy.

You had also purchased a couple of other things at the store. Which included the cutest picnic basket you had ever seen, it made you think of him. Maybe because it was cute and also maybe because he was always on your mind. You didn’t care either way, you got it. Inside it you packed up the lunch, your present for him and a bottle of his favorite “grocery wine”.

Your hands wrapped around the handle tightly as you walked through the set looking for him. Your fingernails matched the red of the gingham pattern that the basket was lined with. It was a stark contrast to your eyes brimming with tears.

He hadn’t been at his trailer so you had set off to find him. You were starting to feel defeated, maybe he had gone out to lunch or was on break or talking to his boss.

You stopped feeling defeated when you heard his voice call out your name, you could’ve swore you felt your heart stop along with the feeling and you turned to the direction of the call. The floodgates opened and hot tears were now streaming down your cheeks at the sight of him, even from such a distance. You felt like such a sap until you could see his face as the two of you sprinted in each other’s direction. You could now see his own tears. Seeing him in such a way made you nearly slam the basket down and open your arms wide for him. For which he immediately accepts when you finally reach each other and before you know it he’s almost knocking the both of you over from how fast he was going and he embraces you, face instantly pressed in your neck. His arms are tight around you, and he inhales deeply, drinking in that smell that’s uniquely you. He felt like a fein.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” he was quiet. You didn’t realize this until later but the reason he was so quiet was because he was trying to keep down the sob that was threatening to spill from him.

“Well I’m really here,” you whispered, arms moving to hug him back tightly, hand moving to rub circles into his back “and I’m really, really sorry. I’m so so so sorry.”

He pulled away from you begrudgingly and took your face into his hands, not caring one bit about the tears that were rolling from your eyes to your cheeks to his hands.

After looking at you for just a moment, his tears started up again and he pinched your cheek lightly before pressing kisses all over your face. “I don’t care about any of that, I don’t care, all that matters is that you’re here, right now, with me.” A smile now spreads across his face and he chuckles, eyes darting around to the onlookers. He didn’t care if he looked like a crying mess.

“I missed you,” you breathed out, hands reaching to parallel his, rubbing your thumb softly against his wet cheek “Let’s get out of here, yeah? I brought you something.”

His face lit up and he sniffled, wiping his face now with the back of his sleeve. “I’ll go anywhere with you.”

You spent the rest of the day and the night together, seemingly glued together, cherishing your time.

And then you realized that the universe where you ended up with this man, could never ever be cruel.

#timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet angst

[timothee-mybeloved]

Heaven is a place on earth with you.

In which a beautiful affair blossoms between two actors

In other words: timothée chalamet x f!costar!reader

Heavily based on the song Video Games by Lana del rey

(This could also be read as gender neutral since I didn’t use any descriptions aside from the brief mention of reader wearing a sundress)

warnings: one line completely stolen from the movie Requiem For a Dream, pure fluff, secret relationships, allusions to sex (it’s not detailed), timmy and reader being in love and that’s about it.

He used to take you driving around the dark streets of New York, it would be late at night, just the two of you. The windows rolled halfway down as the wind blew through your hair.

You would feel his eyes on you, looking at him and wondering is he real? It’s a question you’ve always had in the back of your mind. Surely, someone who treats you this good can’t actually be something more than just a figment of your imagination.

Night after the other, you would find yourself waiting for these late night rendezvous, away from the public eye and the crowded streets. You weren’t ready to be seen yet and neither was he.

Sometimes, when you were feeling really brave, you would venture out into the world together in broad daylight, being extra cautious of what you did. It was hard; not being able to touch each other however you pleased but it was better than having to be bombarded by paparazzi.

Press tour had started, which meant you had to be traveling around a lot. You found yourselves in Italy, the hot and sunny days required extra light clothing. A sundress adorned your curves as you walked the quiet street, holding his hand as he guided you back to your shared hotel room.

You looked beautiful, he thought as he started undressing you, taking his time to memorize each and every part of your body, working his way up to your lips. He tasted like cigarettes. Not that he was a heavy smoker but the occasional relief was necessary every now and then to calm his nerves.

You were lying in bed now, with your limbs entwined with each other, his hand stroking your hair. The question still lingers and you find yourself sharing your thoughts with him.

“Are you real?” You ask him, not really expecting him to answer but he does “Only when I’m with you.” You’re thinking that this is probably the best thing to ever happen to you under such unexpected circumstances.

His hand is still in your hair and it’s quiet again. Before you met him, you were never one for comfortable silence, but now it comes as naturally as ever. You don’t mind it. In fact, you’d be willing to spend the rest of your life in silence if it meant you’d be spending it with him.

“You’re so beautiful.” The words come out from his lips suddenly. “Whenever i see you i can only ever think about one thing.”

You’re intrigued “And that is?” You inquire. “I always thought you were the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” He says and you stare at him, like a deer caught in headlights. How does he always manage to make you feel like a little girl who just found out what it’s like to fall in love?

“Timothée...” you softly whisper after what felt like an eternity of silence. “I love you.” Dropping it on him but you feel relief wash over you when he cups your cheek and pulls you in for a big kiss.

“I love you.” He says it back, going in for another kiss.

Suddenly coming to the realization that everything you’ve ever done was for him, everything that you’ve said and done has led you to this moment, has led you to him. Heaven is a place on earth when you’re with him.

They say that the world was built for two and it’s only worth living in knowing that he loves you. Shutting your eyes at the thought, you move closer to him as his arms wrap around your bare back, nuzzling your face in his neck before going to sleep.

“I love you so much.” He whispers, knowing you can’t hear him but wishing he could scream it off of every rooftop.

#timothee chamalet #timothee fanfic #timothee x reader #timothee x y/n #timothee chalamet x you #timothee imagine #timothee fluff #timothee chalamet angst #timothee x costar reader #dune part one #call me by your name #elio perlman #lady bird #little woman #laurie laurence #paul atreides

[skyebounded]

hey i love your work so so much and it really brightens my day and i was wondering if maybe you could write a fic about timothee chalamet being jealous of one readers other male celebrity friends and he's all touchy. it doesn't have to be smut but it is very appreciated thank you.<3

Hello Love, I would love too! Here you go, I hope you enjoy it. Sorry if you don’t. 😬

Cheeky 

© Skyebounded, do not use my work, but you may share it.

Masterlist

premise: Timothée gets a little jealous over a decision that he’s made, but it isn’t made any better when you decide to toy with him. 

Pairing: Timothée Chalamet x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, swearing, smut, slight angst (!!Unedited work!!)  

Word Count: 1.9K

A/N: Hello Lovelies 💙 I can’t believe I wrote this as fast as I did, I’ve never done that..

Anyway, thank you for the request, I hope you like it, and I am sorry if you don’t. xoxox!!!

Even with the crowds surrounding you, the constant movement from the sea of bodies, and the loud music, you could feel his presence, especially the feeling of his eyes on you. They hadn’t left your form since you sat down, shamelessly watching your every movement. You were currently sitting next to Jacob, who was one of your close friends, one that  Timothée knew as well, who was perhaps being a little more touchy than he usually was. It didn't bother you, you knew he meant nothing by it, he was just feeling the overall effects of the alcohol that he had been consuming, he was unintentionally flirty, but you weren’t sure if  Timothée knew that.

“Yeah so I’ve been thinking about getting a new watch, what do you think? I mean this one's good, but I feel like I can afford a better one now, and so I think it's time, right?” 

Jacob places his hand absent-mindedly on your thigh, teetering his wrist so you can get a better look at the watch in question. You quickly glance over at  Timothée, who is currently leaning against the wall adjacent to you. There were people beside him, trying to talk to him, or so it looked like, but he couldn’t be any less interested in what they had to say.

His stare was like daggers, he was in no way trying to hide the sour taste in his mouth at watching the pair of you. Watching as he brings the cup to his lips, taking small calculated sips, his eyes instantly meeting yours. There was something in the way his eyes bore into you, almost as if he was warning you, telling you to be careful or else, something that in fact made you feel giddy.  

It had been Timothée’s idea not to tell anyone about your relationship, something about ‘wanting to keep you all to myself..’ and ‘no one else needs to know,’ and you had been fine with it, keeping it to yourselves, but from the looks of it he was no longer in agreeance, and it made you smile, just a bit. You knew the effect that you had on him, especially when you would give someone else too much attention, and it delighted you. 

You take a slow sip of the drink in your hand, the same one you have been sipping at slowly for the past hour, slowly turning your attention back to Jacob, moving slightly closer, using the music as your reason.

“Jacob, I don’t know anything about watches,” you laugh, leaning into him slightly. 

Part of you wanted to toy with  Timothée a little, nothing too far, but just enough to irk him slightly. A harmless game. 

Jacob joins in your laughter, leaning in closer to you in response. “Yeah, I figured,” he smiles, “I don’t know why I asked.”  

He shrugs, as he takes a sip from his fifth drink of the night. “I will say this,” you start, picking up Jacob’s hand to get a better look at his watch, “I think that you should get another one, but in gold, I feel like that's your color,” you say with a smile. 

You might have been mistaken, thinking that you saw a bit of blush creep to his cheeks at the comment. You playfully touch his shoulder to add to it all. You quickly steal another glance at  Timothée, only to see that his eyes hadn’t left you in the slightest, if anything they had gotten a darker exposure to them. His jaw was tense, and his eyes narrowed. It was unmistakable, the roll of his eyes, followed by a scoff that you couldn't hear, but knew was made. 

You watch him set his cup down on one of the tables, and wander off. You quickly drop your hand from Jacob’s shoulder, afraid that you had gone too far.

“Will you excuse me, I’ve got to find the restroom.” 

Jacob nods, offering his hand for your drink, which you give him with a small ‘thank you.’ before scurrying off to find  Timothée. It wasn’t hard to find him. You pushed your way through the clusters of people, chasing after his tall figure, only to have your hand grabbed and pulled into a dark room. 

The door clicks shut behind you. The only light in the room was a faint glow from the night, peering through a window, perfectly illuminating his face, and his dark curls.

“What the hell was that?” He asks. 

He kept his voice even and calm, but you knew he was upset. 

“What?” you feign aloofness. 

He wasn’t amused, that much was clear. His hands find your hips, pushing you back against the door with a soft thud. 

“You know exactly what I am talking about, my dear.”

You relax your face, trying to think of a way to tell him that you knew it bothered him and that you were doing it on purpose, for that very reason. You decided that probably wasn't the best idea, so you continued with your innocent scheme. 

“Babe, it was nothing, I don't understand why you’re getting so upset.” 

 Timothée scoffs, this time loud enough for you to hear, “Nothing, really? He was all over you, I saw it, and you were all over him.” 

“You’re overreacting, I promise it was nothing,” you pause, running your hand up his chest. You couldn’t help the small smile that was taking form on your glossed lips. “I promise, it was nothing, I am yours.” 

 Timothée’s eyes narrow, tracing your face as he thought about what you said. “Yes, you are…and I think you need reminding,” he remarks. His lips catch yours, hard. The shock of it renders you dazed for a single moment, one that he takes advantage of, letting his tongue brush past your lips and into your mouth, claiming you with his kiss. You instantly moan as his hands begin to roam your form, committing each and every curve and detail of your body to his memory. His hand snakes down your body, dipping under your dress and straight to your heat. His fingers press against the wet lace of your panties, a smirk on his face. 

“Look at you, still wet for me I see, and to think, I haven’t even done anything.” 

You don’t miss the hoarseness of his voice, as he speaks, an indication that he was trying to keep himself under control, you knew it all too well. You don’t say anything as his hand comes up to caress your throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure against it. His lips come back to yours, hungry for more. 

He pulls your panties aside, letting his fingers explore your dripping cunt. You suck in a deep, shaky breath when you feel them tease your entrance, slowly tracing your hole before he sinks two of them into you. Moving them around, curling them, just so he can brush your sweet spot, all to watch you squirm under his touch. 

He pulls his lips from you to get a better look at your face. Your lips swollen, pupils blown, brows knitted together, absolutely perfect, and all for him to see.  Timothée brings his fingers to thrust inside you, smiling when he sees the way your face contorts, and the way you try your hardest to refrain from fucking yourself on his fingers. 

“So beautiful.” he coos, his pointer finger stroking your cheek. 

“Timothée,” you plead softly. 

You needed him to do more, to satisfy the ache between your legs, the very one that he was simply taunting. 

“What my darling? What do you need?” 

He knew, and you knew he did, but the point was to hear to say it, for you to admit and keep admitting that he was the one for you, that only he could satisfy you, and so you bite.

“I need you, to fuck me..” you say. 

A sinister grin grows on his lips. He pulls his fingers from you, leaving you with a void that you so desperately needed filled. He brings his hands to pull the thin fabric hiding your pussy off of your legs, and into his pocket. Hiking up your dress, so it rested against your hip.  You hear the sound of his belt unfastening, and you sneak a peek, watching as his pants drop just enough for his cock to spring free. A soft whine leaves your lips at the sight, and he hears it, chuckling to himself. 

His hands find your hips once more as he lines himself up to you. His cock runs through your folds collecting your juices. You tilt your face up at the sensation of his tip teasing against you, a small moan making its way past your lips. Slender fingers wrap around your chin and pull down, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

“I want your eyes on me,” He thrusts into you swiftly, as you suck in your breath at the delicious stretch of him inside you. He pushes himself further into you, letting pleasure consume him. He draws himself out of you, only to come back with full force, rendering you drunk at the drag of his length. “Pretty girl,” he draws out again, watching your mouth fall open in a desperate attempt to let out a cry. “Only like this for me and my cock, aren’t you?” 

You nod not sure if you would be able to make a sound. “Use your words, mon amour..”

Your eyes widen as you look at him. “Yes  Timothée,” You breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, but it was good enough for him. He smirks, both of his hands grabbing your thighs, urging you to jump. Once you did, he had you pressed harder against that wall, pumping in and out of you with fervor. His lips grazing yours with each jolt, his breath fanning across your burning cheeks. 

“Fuck, I love seeing you like this,” he mutters. 

You could tell he was getting close, the way his voice became shaky, his thrusts becoming more sporadic and yet the pace never failed. You clamp your mouth shut as a moan ripples through you, closing your eyes as you focus on it.

“I want to hear you, I want everyone to hear you, my love,” he whispers in your ear. 

His hand snakes between you once more, finding your clit with ease, as he rubs circles into it, sending subtle jolts of pleasure through you, all while he picks up the pace of his thrusts. 

The sounds that begin to leave your mouth are albeit sinful. It doesn’t take you long like this before you are coming undone around him, your walls squeezing him tightly, pleasure coursing through your body. It takes him a few more thrusts before he too follows after you. “Fuck,” he mutters into the crook of your neck as he empties himself into you. Both of you do your best to catch your breath, your chest still heaving.  Timothée gently sets you down, holding you steady. 

You look up at him, a smile on your face.

“You know, you’re quite hot when you’re jealous,” you say with a wink. It's then that he realizes the game you’ve been playing. With a gentle shake of his head, he scoffs, unable to stop the grin from forming on his face. 

“Cheeky.”

You pull your dress back down, knowing that you weren’t getting your panties back anytime soon. 

“Shall we go?” 

 Timothée nods, taking your hand and pulling you out into the bustling hallway of the house. As you make your way down the stairs, you catch Jacob’s quizzical gaze.  Timothée pulls you to his side, pressing his lips to yours so that everyone can see, you are his. 

“I love you,” he mutters against your lips, and you can't help but smile.

Hope you liked it! 

#Timothee Chalamet #timothee chamalet #timmy chalamet #timothée chalamet #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet x reader #Timothee chalamet x y/n #Timothee chalamet x you #lil timmy tim #timothee x you #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet fanfiction #anon request #smut #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet angst #fanfiction

[redtaylorsversiongirlie]

imagine; musician!reader x timothee chalamet

warning; angst but ending with fluff!

you stood on the stage in front of thousands of your fans, microphone in your hand as you sang one of your most well-known song 'fight for me'.

in this moment, it reminded you so much of timothee but it wasn't about him. it was about someone who you used to date, someone who never fought for you. when you two were arguing, he just left the apartment and never talked about it again. and you then knew that that will be exactly the reason you two will break up. you two didn't face the problems together, he left you to face them yourself.

earlier that day you had the concert, you and timothee argued. you two rarely did and when you did, it was just something small and silly and you two were lying on the couch, cuddling, just half an hour later.

but it wasn't the case this time. you prayed the god and everyone who's up there for you and him to be okay.

you weren't sure why you two argued or why it started or who started it. but before you knew, you were yelling at each other like mad. you remember screaming something about him being far away for too long because of his new movie that was being filmed in france. that was very hypocritical of you as you just few months ago finished your tour around europe so you and timothee were apart for a while. and few minutes of exhausting arguing, he left, slamming the door so hardly behind him that you were afraid they'll fall out.

you couldn't help but to start crying on the stage, in front of all these people who will surely soon make up rumours about the reason why you cried.

as you stopped singing, the fans didn't. it made you smile that they liked the song you have written from the bottom of your soul and they were singing it. you knew that that was the best feeling an artist could ever experience.

you wiped your tears just so the next round could stream down your cheeks as the fans sung;

i'm the best girl for you, can't you see?

so why don't you fucking fight for me?

when they finished, they started screaming and clapping, making a bright smile appear on your face despite the tears.

when the fans saw you holding up the microphone to your mouth, they went quiet.

you took a deep breath. "i. . . i just wanted to thank you all for supporting me and—"

everyone started suddenly screaming. you furrowed your eyebrows and turned around, determined to find the reason of the interruption.

timothee was standing behind you, a big flower bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hand.

you gaped at him and when you finally realized that he is actually there, you threw your arms around him and hugged him tightly. he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist.

"what are you doing here?" you said, loudly so he could hear you through the fans screaming.

he didn't say anything. he got on one of his knees and pulled a little box from the pocket of his jacket.

and now not only the fans were going wild but your band mates too.

your mouth opened, tears of happiness threating to fall out of your eyes.

"y/n y/m/n y/l/n," he said, opening the box, revealing a ring with a huge diamond. "will you marry me?"

you didn't wait a second before nodding. you got on your knees so you two were almost the same height as he slipped the diamond ring on your ring finger. you kissed each other like you never did before as everyone rooted for you.

you were sure this was the best night of your life.

#timothee chamalet #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet angst

[petersasteria]

timothee chalamet masterlist

Chalamet!Reader → What You Don't Know Won't Hurt

One Shots → You're Losing Me Summary: Your relationship is dying. → because i liked a boy Summary: it's in the title.

#timothee chalamet #timmy chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet angst #lil timmy tim

[timotheechlamett]

hiii this is my first request ever and I was wondering if you could do a timmy angst fic! I identify as female so maybe something where he neglects reader pls

BROKEN BOUNDARIES

this ask definitely tapped into my subconscious, writing this felt super super personal.

NOT PROOF READ AT ALLL.

WARNINGS: angst, toxic!Timothée, toxic!Reader, foul language, ANNGSTTTT.

let me know if I missed anything.

__________________________________

He was away for work again.

He’s away for work and for the first week he called me non-stop, texted me between cuts, until he wasn’t. I simply chalked it up to the fact his scenes were getting more intense, there would be more takes, not as much free time.

It’s been a week since he last called me, now there’s only two days before he comes home.

Of course he texted me a few times letting me know what he was doing on set and how much he missed me, but days since I had heard his voice. It killed me to miss my boy so much.

And then came the pictures.

The day he was coming home I found out he indeed had time to call me. Instead the days, almost weeks before his arrival, he was pent up on yachts, going to clubs, even a very lengthy outing with his co-stars the night prior to his flight. It wasn’t that I had an issue with him having fun, it wasn’t about cheating, not about a type of envy having the bonding experiences you should with your co-workers as an actor.

It’s completely about the fact he intentionally didn’t call for seven days and I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach, what I feel is strictly pain.

I throw my phone down on the bed and collapse on the surface just the same.

I love him with my entire being and I know he does too, or I thought? Does he in this moment? I feel almost betrayed, I feel forgotten, put off.

This is not the first, second, or third time something like this has happened— Honestly, I’d lost count during the years of us being together. It was a fact of principle and that I had made a point to tell him the last time, that it hurts, it hurts deeply to be so disregarded.

I could cry, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere, right? I could blow his phone up with how hurtful it is, but that would also be a dead end.

I rake my mind for solutions. I laid there for what felt like hours before picking up my phone.

—

‘Hey!’ My friend answers.

“Hey, are you busy this weekend?” I ask.

‘No not at all, why what’s up?’

“I’m- I was wondering if I could come up there for a day or two, I need a girls weekend.” I sigh.

‘You know you’re always welcome here. Why are you even asking? Are you okay?’ She questions.

I let a tear slip and steady my voice, “No, yeah I just need a couple days for me. I’ve been in the house for nearly two months.” I try and manage a chuckle.

‘Will you be here tonight? I thought Tim was..coming back today?’ She prods cautiously.

“He is but I-,” I close my eyes and will myself to be calm, “I’ll explain when I get there okay?” I nearly whisper, two more tears fall from my eyes. There was a pause.

‘Let me know when you leave, okay? I love you.’

“I love you too.” I end the call, getting to my feet and start packing my bag.

It wasn’t long before I had everything I needed for the weekend, I sit the duffle bag on the bed before showering and changing into a clean comfortable outfit. I check the time.

‘7:32 PM’

I could be there in two hours if I leave now I thought to myself.

I rip some notebook paper from an old journal and write Timothée a note explaining where I am, who I’m with, and that my phone won’t be on.

Petty? Probably. But it feels good.

I make my way down the steps and move to open the front door only to have it opened for me.

“My love!” He embraces me, I use my free hand to wrap around him, I indulge the feeling remembering how his warmth feel, how he smells, before pulling away.

“I missed you, missed you so much.” He beams as he kisses my head, standing before me with a wide smile until he saw my bag. I curse myself mentally.

“Where are you going?” He questions, I step aside and he steps into the loft setting his bags down.

I remain silent for a minute, taking him in. He didn’t look the least bit fatigued by the 14-hour flight, by being away for such a period, he looked well rested even. Meanwhile I could feel the bags under my eyes, the knot in my throat prevents me from saying anything immediately, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

“I um-“ I press my temples with my free hand, “I’m gonna go to The Hamptons, to Rae’s, for the weekend. I just need some time to myself-“ I finally get out.

His face falters and I can feel the tension thicken like being drowned by waves, “Baby, I just got back, please just stay til the morning ?” He cuts in before caressing my face with a grin like nothing was wrong.

This tension is one-sided.

I look up into his eyes feeling myself tear up, “No. No I can’t.” I say quietly, pulling in a sharp breath, “Timothée you— I cant keep getting put off. I can’t keep getting treated as second when you’re away you-“ Hot tears fall down my cheeks, i drop the bag, he lets me go, “I told you how shitty it feels, multiple times, you keep doing it. Why?” My voice breaks as the tears continue to fall.

“W-What do you mean? How shitty what feels?” His voice raises slightly, his face scrunched looking at me.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about.” I let out a soft chuckle, tears continuously streaming down my face, “You act like you do nothing wrong regardless of how many times I bring it up-“

“I didn’t do shit-“ Hee cuts in.

“No Timotheé! You did the ONE fucking thing you always do! You’ve had a whole week to talk to me, seven days! I’ve gotten a mere text for half those if that, I saw the pictures-” I choke on the word, his jaw clenches, “Pictures of what!” He moves closer as he yells, “What did I do-“ I cut him off.

“You’ve been fucking off for nearly two weeks, not caring how it would make me feel, you’re girlfriend,” I’m sobbing now, “Remember me?” I take in a heavy breath.

“I haven’t been fucking off? I do care how you feel I just-“

“It takes seconds to call and let me hear your voice,” I run my hands roughly through my hair, “Seconds that you couldn’t fucking spare out of a week plus!”

“Baby please-‘ He moves to grab my hands.

“No, you don’t get to charm your way out of this,” I wipe my face, “Not this time.” I push past him and grab my bag heading towards the door, I feel resistance.

His hand tightens around the back straps of my bag, “Please don’t, please, I’m,” He pulls me closer to him, caressing my face with his hands, “I’m sorry, please,e Ii’m sorry-“

Tears pool in our eyes as we stare at one another, “Please don’t leave-“ He closes his eyes and sets his forehead on me, his tears falling against my cheek as my own mix with them.

I take a shaky breath, “You keep breaking the boundaries I’ve set,” I sniffle, “I’m tired of being disappointed,” I look up, meeting is teary eyes, “By your empty promises.”

I pull away from his embrace and gather my things, walking to the door, “There’s a note for you upstairs.” I call back not looking at him.

“I love you.” He chokes.

I glance over my shoulder at him, opening the door and throwing my things in the back of my car, starting my drive to The Hamptons.

I see the half mark sign and feel an overwhelming sadness, hot tears testing my eyes. I blink them back.

Love is kind, love is patient.

Love does not dishonor.

Love does not fail.

“You’re okay. It’s gonna be fine.” I repeat to myself.

Love always perseveres.

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #lil timmy tim #timmy chalamet #timothee #timothée #chalamet #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet angst #timothee chalamet one shot #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee x y/n #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee x fem oc #elio x oliver #elio cmbyn #paul atreides smut #paul atreides #dune 2021 #cmbyn fandom #timothee chalamet x armie hammer #paul atreides fanfiction #paul atreides fic #paul atreides x you #paul atreides x y/n

[lemon-boy-stan]

“BETTY”

summary: you dated timothee in highschool, but broke up with him after you found out he cheated on you at a house party. now, in 2022, you’re a famous influencer on instagram, and timothee hosts a party where you need an invitation, as a way to get your attention. the guards let you in.  genre: angst, fluff. pairing: timothee chalamet x reader. a/n: this is based on the song “betty” by taylor swift, so i suggest listening to it while reading! also, this took me really long as i wrote it over several days, so i hope you guys like it! warnings: swearing, sexual refrences, slight makeout scenes, loves-me-loves-me-not vibes, lots of pining. 

“betty, i won’t make assumptions about why you changed your homeroom, but i think it’s because of me / betty, one time i was riding on my skateboard and i passed your house, it’s like i couldn’t breathe / you heard the rumors from inez, you can’t believe a word she says / most times, but this time it was true / the worst thing that i ever did was what i did to you”

FEBRUARY 2007, HIGHSCHOOL

The day they put you in the same class as your boyfriend, you were so happy that you couldn’t contain your emotions. It was your last year of highschool. Ever since you’d started dating Timmy, they never put you in the same class.

Sure, you’d have a few subjects together - art, maths, drama - but the only times you’d really get to hang out on campus were at break times, at recess and lunch. 

You’d called him as soon as you’d read the email, his face lighting up on the screen. “Can you believe it?” you threw your left hand up as you held your phone in the other hand, “I can’t believe it! They finally put us together! I'm actually excited to go to school for once!"

Timmy grinned and laughed at your enthusiasm before turning serious, making you frown as he pushed back his dark curls on his head. "Y/N," he spoke softly, "I need you to promise me something." and now you were frowning, too, "yeah? What is it, Tim?" and his face darkened as he choked out the words, "just. Just don't listen to anything that people say... about - about you, or - or about me... okay?" and your eyebrows furrowed together; you didn't think he was being serious, but you smiled, nodding, "okay! I promise."

Timothee sighed in relief before smiling again, “thank you. Okay, I love you, but I have to go. Do you want a ride to school?” you grinned before scowling, “not if it’s a ride on your stupid skateboard. I hate that thing.” and Timmy laughed, shaking his head, “no, I’ve learnt my lesson not to have two people on it. So, I’ll come pick you up soon. Okay, now I really have to go.” Then he turned to yell across his shoulder, “yeah, mum! I’m coming!” you giggled softly as the camera moved unstably and the screen cut to black.

You'd gotten dressed a lot faster than you usually did, making your mother surprised as she stood in the doorway of your room. "Hi, mum!" you grinned at her shocked face as you slid on a silver bracelet (you were always still in bed whenever she came to wake you up). 

Your mother frowned before laughing,  "good, you're awake and dressed. I was just going to yell at you to hurry up. There's a Timothee waiting outside for you." you rolled your eyes, "mum, you've known him since he was five." and your mum shrugged, "yes, but ever since he's started dating you I just don't trust him." You scowled before huffing, "Well, I do." and your mother smiled, moving to the side so that you could get through,  "you'd better get going, you don't want to be late on your first day." you grinned, "okay!" before. running up to the front door, nearly hitting the flower vase as you swung it open.

"Timmy!" Timothee laughed again as you burrowed into him. "Hi," he said softly, "hi, I love you." he spoke the words softly and inhaled your scent, making you smile into his black sweater, "I love you, too."  Timmy stroked your hair softly before taking your hand, "come on, let's go."

You didn't like to go on your phone in your boyfriend's car (he'd put the playlists of both your favourite songs on the radio and you'd sing your hearts out the entire drive) but as your phone buzzed, you couldn't help but look down at the message.

First of all, it was a completely random  message, from a completely random person on MySpace. Well, not someone completely random. The girl's name was Rachel, from the popular group at school. She was known for spreading a lot of rumours, so you were kind of scared as to why she, of all people, was talking to you.

princessrachell7: did he tell you yet?

You frowned at your  screen, typing back: "did who tell me what?" and three little dots appeared on the screen as Rachel typed: "did your boyfriend tell you about what happened at Isabel's party?" and now you were frowning even deeper as you wrote back, "no." and princessrachel17 said, "Well, i slept with him. We were kind of drunk. sorry ha ha" but she didn't sound sorry as you stared at your screen and your eyes filled with tears.

Timothee's car jerked forwards violently and he swore loudly at someone on the road before turning to you, "sorry about that. Someone just stopped and - hey. Hey, are you okay? Baby? What's wrong, sweetheart?" half of his attention was on you, another half on the road, but you knew that his thoughts were in another dimension. "Timmy," your throat was dry and your sight was  watery, "I need you to be serious with me." and he took your hand, turning down the music, "yeah, of course. What's wrong?" he'd arrived at school, but he'd stopped the car so the two of you could talk. You knew that people were watching, but people were always watching the pretty boy and the ugly girl.

The words finally came out as the tears began to spill, "Timmy. Did you. Rachel said - she told me on - on MySpace - that you - did you and Rachel sleep together at Isabel's party?" the last few words came out as a jumbled sentence, but you were positive that Timothee had heard it, and that it was true. Because otherwise, why would his face be slack, and why would he look like he'd seen a ghost?

Timothee went quiet, letting go of your hand as the tears fell from your cheeks. "Y/N," he began, in that tone that you knew was going to start an argument, in the tone he always used at the start of an argument, "please. Just listen. I swear..." he sighed heavily, "I swear I didn't mean to. I just... I drank a lot, and she was pretty... but she’s nothing compared to you. Please, can we please just talk about this?”

You narrowed your eyes and pursed your lips, “fine. If you want to ‘talk about it’, we can talk about it. So, how was she?” and Timothee sighed again, this time putting his head in his hands, his dark curls shaking. “I told you,” he said finally, “I don’t know. She was different, I guess -” different. The word stung. “Oh, yeah?” you brushed away a strand of your hair, “how different?” and Timmy sighed again, “I don’t know, but I know it wasn’t the same as you.” 

It was a nice sentiment, but you didn’t care. You were still upset, and you were still hurt. You rose up, forcing the tears to stop, slamming his father’s car door open, ripping off the silver Tiffany bracelet from your wrist, making Timothee flinch as you threw the birthday present on the leather seats of his car, the bangle dropping to the floor with a clatter. There were seven charms on the bracelet - seven charms, for the years you’d known him, two of them were special, because they represented the years you'd dated him, but the bracelet didn't matter anymore. You wouldn't be needing any more charms on it.

You slammed the door shut as you left, ignoring his pleading calls for you to return. You held your head high, walking as fast as you could in the black stilettos that your boyfriend had said looked pretty on you. You kept walking and walking until your foot twisted on the uneven road. You tried to get up, but you couldn't, and you were so glad that no one was around to see you fall. Everyone was in class.

Well, almost everyone.

Timothee ran out of the car as soon as he saw you fall and heard you cry out in pain. He wished he could be by your side sooner, but he got there as fast as he could. Timothee pulled you into his arms and sushed you as you cried, gently rubbing your ankle.

Normally, you would've continued to let him comfort you, continued to drown in his grasp... but today, you didn't. Because today, he wasn't your boyfriend anymore, and he wasn't your best friend, either. Today, he was just a guy who'd cheated on you; a complete stranger.

Even though you were in pain, you pushed Timothee away and shoved him off. You ignored your ankle, just like how you ignored the distraught expression on his face.

Even though you were stubborn and tried your best to pretend that he wasn't there, Timothee was persistent. "Y/N," he called after you, "Y/N, wait, come back! Where are you going?" and you whirled around at him, tears spilling from your eyes furiously as you glared at him, "to change my homeroom." the words stung, but they didn't sting as badly as seeing you in so much pain stung.

Timothee sighed softly, watching as you walked out of his life.

"but if i showed up at your party, would you have me, would you want me? / would you tell me to go fuck myself or lead me to the garden? / in the garden / would you trust me / if i told you / it was just a summer thing? / i'm only seventeen / i don't know anything / but i know i miss you."

MARCH 2007, HIGHSCHOOL

It had been a month since you'd broken up with Timothee. You dropped out of drama, and changed the subject to another creative arts elective, media, where you learnt how to make films and movies. The lessons took your mind off things for a while; as did your friends, who supported you and became extremely anti-Timothee, making jokes about him and calling him names like ‘Traitor Tim’ or ‘Hell Hal’, after his middle name.

They even made you feel excited about your birthday, which was kind of funny, because you’d thought the thing you would dread the most was your birthday, seeing as Timothee had kissed you on the date two years ago, but as it began to get closer, you were beginning to feel just a little bit better. 

Your birthday was on a Thursday this year, and your friends were planning the party with you. You shook your head as they discussed it over recess. “I’m not inviting him, Claire! I don’t want to see him on my birthday.” Claire rolled her eyes but sighed, “okay, fine.” but your other friend, Eliza, shook her head; “no, you should invite him. Everyone else is invited, even Rachel. I would hate to be in his position.” so you sighed, “fine, whatever.” you hastily put the envelope back in the pile.

Timothee had found out about the party before retrieving the invitation from his mailbox. His new girlfriend, Rachel, had texted him about it. 

Rachel was kind of like Timothee’s rebound girl, but he wasn’t sure if he saw her as a girlfriend. He knew that Rachel saw him as a boyfriend, but even when they had sex together, Timothee just didn’t feel anything special. 

He didn’t want to date Rachel anymore. He wanted to go to Y/N’s party, to see how she was doing, but he wasn’t sure if Y/N even wanted him there in the first place. He’d been cut off by her family, completely exiled. He always knew Y/N’s mother didn’t like him, but her dad had always liked him. Now they all hated him - over a stupid, drunken mistake.

Timothee groaned as he threw the invitation across the room, the room which still smelt of Y/N, which still reminded him of Y/N. 

He had so many of her things in here: the silver bracelet, the expensive Tiffany bracelet he’d gotten her for her fifteenth birthday, the DIY photo album full of polaroid photos she’d made for him for Christmas, the photo from when they were kids and the same photo they’d re-made last year on the shelf right next to it, another photo of them when they were five, sitting on Santa’s lap, another photo from a New Year’s Eve party, where he used the night as an excuse to kiss her for the very first time... the list was endless, and it wasn’t full of just photos.

Timothee groaned again, throwing his head up, fisting his curls frustratedly, “fuck.” because he was still in love with her, he knew that now. Why else wouldn’t he have any feelings for Rachel? Why else wouldn’t he have chucked all of Y/N’s things away already? That’s exactly why you can’t go to her party, Timothee thought to himself, because you’ll just make things worse.

“betty, i know where it all went wrong / your favourite song was playing from / the far side of the gym / i was nowhere to be found / i hate the crowds / you know that / plus, i saw you dance with him / you heard the rumors from inez, you can’t believe a word she says / most times / but this time / it was true / the worst thing that i ever did / was what i did to you.”

APRIL 2007, THE HOMECOMING DANCE, HIGHSCHOOL

Timothee still couldn’t believe what Rachel had told him. Or maybe, he just didn’t want to believe it: that Y/N, his Y/N, had a boyfriend. A different boyfriend, a boyfriend who wasn’t him. The rumor was that they’d met at her part-time job, and he had just graduated from school. The only reason that Timothee had gone to the dance this year was because he’d found out that Y/N was taking her new boyfriend as her date.

You smiled softly, pulling Adam close to you. Adam Park was a pretty boy with dark hair, pale skin, and green eyes. His father was Korean, and his mother was Italian. Adam was sweet and kind, tall and smart. He was funny, too. Your friends made fun of you because he was almost exactly like Timothee, except that his hair wasn’t curly. 

Okay, so maybe Adam was a rebound. Maybe you were hoping to run into Timothee “accidentally”, to show off your new handsome boyfriend, just like how Timothee had started dating Rachel a few months ago after you’d broken up with him, but you doubted that Timothee would even make an appearance. The only year you’d ever seen him at a dance was the year you’d started dating him. Timothee never went to these dances, because he despised the large crowds of people. Rachel was here, but she didn’t have a date.

You tried not to sound so disappointed as Adam brought you over to the dance floor. It’s my favourite song, you thought to yourself, I should try to smile. So you smiled as you let Adam sway you to the beat of the music... but then time stopped. Not because Adam was going to kiss you, but because Timothee had decided to show his face at the dance. He had moved to a corner, and was trying to blend in to the colours of the gym’s walls, earphones in. Even though he was just wearing a dark hoodie, you could spot him anywhere.

And then time moved again. Your heart became cold, and your eyes narrowed, even as you smiled. You didn’t feel sad anymore. You felt like a bitch. And bitches, well... they kissed guys in front of their ex boyfriends, just to make them jealous. Because sometimes, they still loved their ex boyfriends. 

Timothee blinked as he saw Y/N pull Adam close, a smile on her face. He frowned, because he knew that it wasn’t a real smile. This was a fake smile, a smile that was pursed as it reached her ears. This was a smile that was forced. This was a smile - Timothee flinched as time itself stopped. Not because he’d seem something scary, but because he’d seen something painful. Because he’d seen her kiss him. Y/N kissed Adam, her new boyfriend, a boyfriend who she didn’t even look in love with. 

As Timothee slunk away from the party, retreating back to his house and into  his bedroom, tears began to swell up in his eyes. Why did she kiss him? Why did she kiss him? Why did she - CRASH. There was blood on Timothee’s hands. He looked down at the floor, where shards of glass lay scattered and broken on the ground, the picture frame that had been holding the Santa photo shattered on the carpet. Timothee stared at the photograph before sliding down against his bookshelf and sobbing, his head shoved into his hands, the blood, sweat, and tears dripping down his clothes.

“you heard the rumors from inez / you can’t believe a word she says / most times / but this time it was true / the worst thing that i ever did / was what i did to you / but if i showed up at your party / would you have me / would you want me / would you tell me to go fuck myself / or lead me to the garden? / in the garden / would you trust me / if i told you / it was just a summer thing / i’m only seventeen / i don’t know anything / but i know i miss you / i was walking home / on broken cobblestones / just thinking of you / when she pulled through / like a figment of / my worst intentions / she said, “james, get in,” / “let’s drive,” / those days turned in / to nights / slept / next to her / but / i dreamt of you / all summer long.”

MAY 2007, HIGHSCHOOL

Timothee walked on the road back home, listening to yn's playlist on his new l-Pod, his girlfriend's red bug screeching over to the curve.

"Timmy!" he hated the way she said his name. Rachel smiled at him, her blonde, whispy hair blowing out the window as she lifted her sunglasses, her green eyes blinding him. "What are you walking for? Come on, babe! Let's go somewhere!"

Babe, thought Timothee bitterly to himself, that's what Y/N used to call me before you came along. But he got in anyway, and as he took out his earphones, with Rachel's car playing an indie mixtape, Timothee forgot about everything bad that had happened.

Soon, he and Rachel had crashed their lips together, their bodies tangling under the hot Summer sun. But as Rachel squirmed beneath him, Timothee didn't see her at all. He saw Y/N, the entire time.

"betty, i'm here on your doorstep / and i've planned it out for years now / but it's finally sinking in / betty, right now / is the last time / i can dream about / what happens when / you see my face again / the only thing / i wanna do / is make it up to you."

JANUARY 2022, PRESENT DAY

Timothee was sure that you'd forgotten about him by now, but he definetly hadn't forgotten about you.

It was a warm day, and he was back in New York, and was outside your apartment at the buzzer on the doorstep. There were people staring at him, but he didn’t care. There were always people staring at him. His agent had found your address. Ever since he’d seen you in an interview (you were a well-known social media influencer), Timothee had fallen in love with you.

He watched all of your videos and all your interviews. He never missed a single post on social media, although he secretly hoped that you didn’t know that he was following your accounts, because he was pretty sure you hated him.

It had been nine years since he’d seen you, nine years since you’d broken up with him and moved houses, changing schools completely. It was his fault, he knew that now. It was his fault that you’d shut him off, and his fault that he didn’t have you in his life anymore. He’d spent nine years without you, and he was a mess.

He tried to imagine what would happen if you let him up. Would you start to cry? Would you yell at him? Would you throw something at him and tell him to fuck off? Would you panic? Or would you be happy that he was there? Would you smile and cry and say you loved him? Or would you slam the door in his face? 

Timothee shook his head, exhaling shakily before turning away. Then he left, walking anywhere his feet would take him. 

You stared out the window, looking down at the boy with curly dark hair. You knew who he was. Hell, everyone knew who he was. Timothee Chalamet. A famous actor, a famous award-winning actor. People knew him, but they didn’t know him like you did. They didn’t know the sad boy who would always be happy for you, the boy who loved you better than you loved yourself. 

But he was also the boy who left you, the boy who chose someone else over you. And yet here he was, standing outside your apartment, a bundle of flowers in his hand. A bundle of your favourite flowers, although you didn't know how he'd still remembered. Then again, he'd never missed a single of your posts, so of course he remembered.

But then you saw him leave, saw him walk away, taking the flowers with him, keeping his head low. And you didn't mean to, but you began to cry, shoulders shaking as the tears fell from your cheeks.

"the only thing / i wanna do / is make it up / to you. / so i showed up at your party / yeah, i showed up at your party / will you have me? / will you love me?"

Timothee sighed heavily, scrolling through his Instagram feed. It was you. He knew that now. It had always been you, you and never Rachel. He looked at you, smiling up at the screen, a puppy in your arms.

It was a black and white Pomeranian, and his name was Christopher. Timothee had always said Christopher was a stupid name for a dog. That was probably why you called it that, though Timothee doubted that you either cared about or remembered him anymore.

He'd bumped into you at the coffee shop down the road. You'd known who he was, but it didn't appear that you'd remembered who he was. Timothee wasn't so sure. In highschool, you had an incredible memory, always being able to remember facts and things other people said. You could memorize song lyrics, movie lines, and even the things from your childhood that most people would forget.

He was positive that surely you remembered something about him - or you pretended not to know him. He knew you weren't following his Instagram, but you were only following three people.

But today, after the puppy interview, he knew he needed to get your attention; he just couldn't figure out how.

Timothee sighed again, staring at your Instagram profile. Another post caught his eye, an older post. You were at a gala, partying with your friends in a big ballroom. And Timothee smiled. That was how he was going to get your attention.

After seeing him in the coffee shop, you wanted to pretend that you didn't care about him. That you didn't know who he was. Hell, you'd spent nine years pretending he didn't exist, even though a you'd seen his face all over the internet.

But now you'd seen him again, in real life, not in an article or movie trailer. And it did things to your heart you never wanted it to do. You started remembering things you'd thought you'd forgotten, things you'd forced yourself to forget... the good and the bad things, the small and the big things.

You searched for him in your followers to get your facts right. Not about who he was, but if he knew who you were, if he remembered who you were. You watched all his interviews. You watched all his movies, even though you'd always avoided watching them in the past.

You started listening to his music again, on the old I-Pod you'd stolen from him, which was the only thing of his you still had. You checked his posts every day even though you didn't follow him. He didn't post much.

That was when your phone went off - as you lay in your bed, eating pretzels and apple sauce, watching one of his latest movies, Dune. It was an Instagram notification. You had a thousand more followers than you'd had yesterday, and three texts from your friend Claire.

Christopher sat at the foot of your bed, whining as you paused the film, almost as if he didn't want Timothee to go. You cocked your head, "I'm just replying to Claire," but the Pomeranian huffed like he didn't believe you.

It appeared that Claire was freaking out. She'd sent a video link and two other texts, "THE PUPPIES ARE SO CUTE." and then, "HE HAS A CRUSH ON YOU? OH MY GOD SO JEALOUS WHAT" it was the second text that caught you off-guard, causing you to click on the video link, a Buzzfeed interview.

He was pretty. His dark curls fell into place all over his pale, almost porcelain skin, dark eyes glinting mischievously. You were paying more attention to the movie than the interview, but then he said something that made you look back down.

Timothee unfolded the piece of paper as he played with the three baby Labradors. He looked at it and said, "celebrity crush? Oh, I'm not too sure. I mean, I guess if I had to choose, I'd say maybe Y/N. No, I don't know her that well, but I've seen her stuff and I think she's got a nice personality. Also, I guess... she's kind of cute?" then he talked to the puppies and moved on to another question.

And Claire sent you another text. "OH MY GOD. MY PRODUCTION TEAM JUST TOLD ME. YOUR BF'S THROWING A MASSIVE PARTY. VERY EXCLUSIVE. YOU SHOULD GO!" you thought that maybe, just maybe, the party was a coincidence. It was probably another cast party for Dune.

But then again, said the little voice in your head, what if it wasn't?

The same entity that spoke in your head made your fingers move unwillingly, replying to Claire's message in a way that you didn't want to. "OMG! MAYBE I WILL GO. Can you send me the details?" and Claire replied just as enthusiastically as she had texted you, "yes, of course, babes! Go get your man."

And suddenly you regretted replying to Claire.

"will you kiss me on the porch / in front of all your stupid friends / if you kiss me / will it be just like i dreamed it? / will it patch your broken wings? / i'm only seventeen / i don't know anything / but i know i miss you."

It was finally Friday. The guests began to arrive at midnight. Timothee didn't really like parties, but he knew Y/N did. Hopefully, word had spread, and hopefully, she would show up.

But it was almost two o'clock now, and the party ended at three. He'd asked security to tell him if she came, but obviously she hadn't.

It'd taken you at least three hours to get ready, only ten minutes to get there, and of course, you were late.

You spent another six minutes in your car outside the function, pretending to fix your lashes, while you were actually worying if you should go or not.

At two thirty you got your shit together. There were guards outside the function area, and you'd only realised they were talking to you the second time they'd adressed you. "Miss, if you don't have an invitation we need to see some ID. If you could just tell us your name and show us your card we'd be happy to let you in. The host is more than accepting of certain - Miss, are you sure you're alright?"

"Oh," you blinked, having seen Timothee looking out the window of the second floor; his back was turned but it was definetley him, "oh, right. Sorry. My name... Y/N. Here..." you fumbled to get your ID, your nails a bit too long to function with. Finally, you got the clasp open, sliding the card out from your wallet.

The guards examined it for a while before exchanging glances. One of them went into the building and the other two stepped aside. There was still that doubtful feeling where you would never accept how successful you'd become. "Enjoy the party."

The formalities of the The evening had long gone disappeared. The big chandelier from the ceiling glittered like a kaleidoscope as the expensive people as the expensive people swayed to the beat of the music, feasting on small portions of finger foods.

Normally you would join them all on the dance floor, but this time you didn't. You knew Timothee hated parties. It was another reason you went; he knew you liked them. In highschool, Timothee always threw big parties for your birthday but hated when you threw parties for his birthday. Even the night with Rachel, you'd learnt he was at her party as a chaperone for his friends. One of his other friends ended up being the designated driver that night.

Timothee had escaped to the balcony. It was too loud downstairs, and there were too many bright lights. He was scrolling through his phone when one of theguards approached him. Timothee sighed, "it's fine if something's broken. No one's sick, are they?" and the guard shook his head. "It's Y/N. She's here."

Timothee's stomach flipped, "where?" following the guard down the stairs. There were two sets of staircases. One on the left side of the ballroom, and the other on the right. You'd seen Timothee on the left side of the second story, so you made your way over to that staircase, but you couldn't find him anywhere. As you made your way back down, doubt began to settle in your body.

Maybe your friend had gotten it wrong. Maybe it wasn't even Timothee's party to begin with. Or maybe it was his party, but he'd gotten his PR team to host it and was actually just chilling at home, eating pretzels in applesauce and laughing at how stupid you were to actually believe him. You shouldn't have taken him seriously. Not the guy who'd cheated on you....

"Y/N." his voice cut through your heart. You didn't even have to see him to know who he was. You knew just from the way he said your name. You'd told yourself you would forget it, and yet here you were, falling deep into every syllable. His name escaped softly from your mouth as you looked up to meet his eyes, stepping down so you were at his level. "Timothee."

You tried to look away, but he pulled you gently towards him. And you knew it was coming, but you were still shocked as he pressed his lips against yours, the action sending tears down your cheeks. He gripped you tight as if he were afraid you might break, would he ever let go. "I'm sorry," he said finally, "I love you." and you put your head into his neck, "I love you too."

you can find my timothee fics beneath fics for the marauders here!

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[strawberriescherrieskiwi]

Overthinking until I’m Drunk

Request

Part Two to Friends don’t look at friends that way.

Wordcount: 3.8K+

Description: You were trying to move on. You got a boyfriend and partied and put Timothee out of your mind, but you could help but think, friends don’t look at friends that way. And it only get worse when Timothee arrives at bar in London

A/N: Thank you thank you thank you to all the amazing people that asked for a second part, to everyone that has read all my fics over the last year and a half. You are all amazing, I love you all and can never been more grateful. I hope you all enjoy this.

Warning: Angst, smut, rough sex, slight dub-con, domTimmy, cheating.

“Can I have 6 shots of tequila? Oh, and one of those limoncellos you made me last night?” You said to the bartender blinking eagerly at him.

“For you anything,” he flirted.

You laughed, throwing your head back at something that didn’t warrant that reaction, but you were a bit drunk so everything was funny. “I wouldn’t be flirting if I was you. My boyfriend is not a fan of it.”

“He can fight me then.”

“You know he would take you up on that,” you chuckled, throwing yourself into one of the barstools and waiting for him to make your drinks. You felt good, the best you’ve felt in months, but then again you’ve been partying a lot more.

Scanning the bar you caught sight of your group of friends, and your boyfriend laughing at something and you smiled softly. He was radiant, and every woman in the room was jealous that you two were dating. You’ve only been public for about a week, but it was going on.

“You seem to be having a good time,” a voice, one that you knew so well, said from your left.

Your smile left your face and your mood dropped. You turned and caught Timmy’s eyes. “Timmy, hey. How have you been?”

“How have I been?” He scoffed.

“Yes. How have you been?”

“You would know if you answer any of my calls or my text,” he spat out.

You closed your eyes. You deserved that. You’ve been avoiding him for months. Before you were at least answering text half-ass, you both were, but then Timmy became proactive. 

He wanted to see you. Constantly asking when you would meet up, and have a movie night, but you couldn’t see him. You didn’t know if you would ever be okay with seeing him again, not when you still ached for him. 

But he made it clear. You were friends and only would be friends. So you needed to figure that out, needed to learn to be his friend. The issue was you wanted more and until you didn’t you would stay away from him

“I’m sorry, Timmy. I’ve been busy.”

“Hmm, partying, drinking…. Getting a boyfriend.”

“So you heard?” You questioned looking away from him.

“Well, I did come up when you announced it.” 

You groaned closing your eyes, thinking of your stupidity, your bitterness that led to outting your relationship.

“Y/n Y/n” Shouted some paparazzi trying to get your attention as you walked down the street.

It was early in the morning and after a night of partying you had a killer migraine there was nothing you wanted more than a greasy burger from your favorite burger joint but no a swarm of vultures had to surround you the moment you stepped out of your house.

“Y/n come on give us a pretty picture.”

“Y/n have you gained weight?

“Are the rumors about a Marvel deal true?”

“What about the rumors of drugs and excessive partying?

You groaned pulling your hat lower on your face. “Guys, I am just going to get food, can you let me breathe?

“Answer the questions and we will,” one said.

You rolled your eyes knowing that would never work, but your vision was starting to blur with the lights and you wanted to be left alone. “When it partying a problem, I’m young and enjoying life. 

“And drugs? Are you taking them? There are rumors about Cocaine?”

“No, I have not and have no plans to take drugs.” You huffed trying to push past them, only now noticing that had you boxed in and pressed against a wall.

“Any truth to the rumors about you and Timothee Chalamet?”

You flinched at his name and then laughed, bitterly. “What rumors?”

“That you two have broken up?”

“Kind of have to be dating to break up with someone. We are friends, only friends, always friends. Nothing more.”

“There are pictures of the two of you two kissing.”

“Yeah, that’s not true. We are not dating. I am seeing someone that is not Timothee.”

“Really who? Someone better?” They were baiting you. You knew that, but you were so frustrated.

“Timothee is a great guy, but not mine, it won’t happen. I am happy with Tom Glynn-Carney.”

‘The English actor? Do you plan to live in New York for London then?”

“If I do that then however will you stalk me them?” You said sarcastically before pushing past them and slipping into the burger shop.

“I’m sorry that dragged you into it, but you should be happy. I made sure they knew we aren’t together just friends,” You said.

“Y/N. I know you are upset. I-I meant well when I said that.”

“I know you did and we are not fine. I’m fine with us being friends.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not, I’ve been busy. Why the hell are you in England anyways?” You questioned with narrowed eyes. You thought you could avoid running into him in London, but of course now.

Timmy was silent and for a moment you thought he came because he knew you were there, but why would you follow you across the world? You were avoiding him, but you were just friends, there was no reason to do that. So you dismiss the idea.

Just then, the bartender placed your order in front of you. “Here you go, darling,” he grinned.

Sighing in relief to be out of this conversation you grinned taking the tray. “Thank you.” Then you turned to Timmy.

Neither of you said anything as you looked at each other. You’ve known each other your whole lives there was never an awkward moment, never a moment like this, but you stared at each other, both willing the other to say something but neither of you did.

So you nodded and walked back to your table. The moment you arrived your friend group cheered and Tom pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You alright, love?” he asked, against your face.

Your eyes were still glued to the bar. Still glued to Timmy’s green eyes. His eyes were swimming with pain, anger, and something else. 

You were sure yours were similar, but you had to stop getting pulled into his gaze into his web. There was no way that you would end up with each other. Neither of you wanted to hurt the other, this was the best way.

Closing your eyes you leaned against Tom, turning your head into his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

But one thought circled your mind. Friends didn’t look at friends that way.

An hour later you danced to the music pumping through the speakers. You were even more buzzed than before. You felt as if you were floating on cloud nine. Tom's lips were attached to your neck and you giggled as you carded your fingers through his hair.

Most of your friends were on the dance floor and you two had the booth to yourself. “Tom we are in public,” you teased but tilted your neck giving him more access.

“So,” he teased back.

You giggled again, eyes closing but a heat pricked along your skin and you knew that Timmy’s eyes were back on you. He was burning holes into you and you should have ignored him, but your eyes opened and searched for him.

He was glaring at you. His eyes were hard and clouded with the amount of alcohol he’s had since you last caught his eyes. Jealousy blazed and he was nearly shaking with anger. He had no right. You were friends, that is what he wanted he couldn’t be jealous. He didn’t have the right.

Pushing Tom away you took a big intact of air.

“Are you alright?” Tom asked, concerned.

Still with your eyes on Timmy. “Yeah. I just need a moment. A bit overwhelmed,” you laughed nervously.

You got up and quickly made a run to the bathroom. You placed your hands on the side of the sink, panting heavily. You needed to stop with Timmy. It wasn’t going to happen. He had to stop looking at you like that. You closed your eyes willing yourself to calm down. 

The door opened behind you. You heard the lock turn and someone walk up behind you. So close you could feel their body heat. You hated yourself for already knowing who it was. You cursed yourself for drawing this out for avoiding him and not talking before it came to this.

“Timmy, what are you doing in here?” Turning around, leaning against the sink you opened your eyes to stare at him.

“I-I don’t know. You’ve been avoiding me and you are all I could think about and I’m overthinking everything about us about our friendship and if we.. if we were more. And I’m drunk and upset and I just.” He moved closer cupping your face and kissing you.

You gasped and he forced his tongue into your mouth, pulling you closer, squeezing your sides. You moaned, melting into him and giving in to the kiss and kissing him back. You should push him away, but you pulled him closer. Timmy hoisted you onto the sink, forcing your thighs apart and situating himself between them.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you said when you broke apart for air. Timmy’s lips continued to press into your skin, moving to your neck. Just seeing Tom’s marks pissed him off and he bites down roughly on your neck.

You whined, your hand dropping to the mirror behind you. He sucked and bit harder and flicked his tongue over the bruised skin. “Timmy stop. We can’t do that. We are friends just friends.”

“Friends don’t look at each other the way we do,” he said, moving to the other side of your neck, his hands moving under your skirt rubbing your cunt, you gasped bucking against his hand

“So wet for me already,” he said smugly pushing your underwear aside. “And so responsive,” he added, pushing a finger inside of you. 

“I have a boyfriend,” you whined. And then you remembered that you did have one. One that was in the club probably waiting for you. You shoved at his shoulders until he groaned and pulled away.

His lips were swollen and his eyes a dark green they were almost black. All you could see was desire and lust in his eyes. You knew you looked the same, but you couldn't do this. No matter how much you wanted this, you could do this, now when it was just jealousy and lust for him.

“I can’t believe you did that. What the fuck is your problem?” You shouted.

“My problem? My problem is you. It’s always been you. God I came already to London for you. Fuck I was stupid and wrong. If we were friends if it wouldn’t feel this way to be apart for you. I wouldn’t be so drunk every night to numb the pain. I wouldn’t be so jealous and hurt because I fucked up but I love you.”

You sucked in a harsh breath but you didn’t say anything you couldn’t say anything.

“I left New York, you know. The city made me sick, everything reminded me of you. I went to France. Stayed with Pauline, but it was still all about you and then I heard you were here and I had to come.”

“What do you want me to say, Timmy.”

“I don’t know but it’s been hell without you. I-I just love you,”

“Don’t say that” You said, closing your eyes.

Timmy closed the distance between the two of you. His hands cupped your face. “It’s true.”

“Timmy please, I have a boyfriend.”

“It doesn’t matter you are mine,” he said and his lips were back on yours roughly, his finger back inside of you.

“Timmy. Fuck we can’t do that.” Your words didn’t match your actions, your legs opened wider and you moaned.

“You wanted this. You’ve always wanted this. I wanted this.” Timmy grabbed your jaw, kissing you once more. You bite his lips, forcing your tongue into his mouth this time. 

All coherent thoughts left your mind. You gave into your desire all the things you wanted. “Please,” you begged against his lips.

Smirking, he pulled back to stare at you. “Tell me you want this. That you want me.” He demanded.

“No.” You couldn’t you might sleep with him but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. Not after everything he put you through.

“Difficult when we both want this.” He growled, pushing two more fingers inside of you, and roughly pressing on your clit. Your hips jumped and your mouth opened in a loud moan of his name.

“Fucking say my name. Mine only. You’re fucking mine, right?” He said, thrusting in and out of you quickly. His fingers spread you open and fill you deliciously.  You moaned, riding his fingers as you got closer and closer to your release.

“Timmy, don’t stop please,” you gasped tugging on his hair, kissing him needily.

“Always wanted to hear you say that,” Timmy groaned, pulling away from you. You whined, reaching for him, but he just smirked, pulling down his pants and stroking his cock.

“Beg for my cock.”

“No,” you said stubbornly.

He pinched your clit.

“Beg for my cock,” he repeated.

You bite your lips, looking away from him.

Timmy narrowed his eyes moving closer. He spanked your cunt hard and you moaned trying to keep your sounds to yourself. He chuckled spanking your cunt again and again until you were sobbing and begging him to fuck you.

“Wasn’t so hard,” he laughed, lining up his cock and pushing into you, filling you completely with just one harsh thrust of his hips.  You choked, his cock was bigger than anyone you ever had before.

“Big so big,” you whined.

“Shush, it’s okay, got you.” He said, kissing you sweetly. He moved his hips slowly barely thrusting giving you time to adjust to his size. Your chest was pressed together and you could feel how fast his heart was beating.

When you relaxed against him, he pulled his hips back until his cock was almost out and then he was sinking back into you. His thrust instantly picked up speed, fucking you brutally.

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. Your eyes rolled back and you trembled in his hold, as he wrapped his body around yours. “Tell me you love me,” he begged.

“Timmy please don’t.”

He dove his hips faster, taking one of your legs and putting it on his shoulder, allowing him to sink deeper. His lips attached to your neck. “I love you so much. Tell me you love me. Tell me that despite how stupid I am, you love me.”

You sobbed as his cock pounded into you at an ungodly pace, his hips slamming into your clit. “Fuck you are the worse. You hurt me all the time, but I love you. I love you so much. Always have.” Your walls tightened around him, and you grabbed a fist full of his hair and kissed him as you came.

“Shit shit Merde,” Timmy whined into your mouth, thrusting a few more times before spilling inside of you.

You both held each other close as you came down from your high. You shook in his hold, tears falling down your face. 

Timmy pulled back in a panic, wiping away your tears. “Hey no no, don’t cry. I’m sorry fuck don’t cry,” He pulled out of you, causing you to whine and cry harder.

“I’m sorry. I’m always fucking up and hurting you. I don’t know where to even start to make this up to you, you are my whole life my whole heart.”

“Then why did you push me away? Why did you say we were just friends and that’s all we could be and then look at me like that all the time? Why did you come here?”

“Because I’m a coward and I’m stupid. I thought pushing you away was best for us. You are my best friend. At first, I didn’t know how I felt and then I missed you crazily, and then my thoughts were consumed by you but I thought it would be best to still be friends. I didn’t want to risk our friendship, risk losing you.”

You laughed through your tears. “And look how good that turned out.” You pushed him away getting to your feet. You wobbled and Timmy moved to help but you glared at him. Grabbing the sink you steadied yourself.

“I know I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“You’ve said that a few times,” you said, pushing past him and reaching for the doorknob.

Timmy put his hand over yours. “Where are you going?”

You sighed turning around. “To go tell my boyfriend that I cheated on him.”

Timmy removed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. And I am too.”

You walked quickly out of the bathroom. Flinching when you heard the sound of the mirror breaking. You took a shuddered breath, willing yourself to keep walking to ignore the sound of your heart shattering as well.

                                             Taglist.

@gatoenlaciudad

@iloveneilperry

#timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamat imagine #timothee chalamet x you #timmy smut #timothee chalamet fics #timothee chalamet angst

[thebetawolfgirl]

could you PLEASE do something like timmy and y/n are in a relationship and they absolutely love eachother but he has to do that PR shit with Kylie and y/n is heartbroken when she sees the pics of them at the met gala and whiles she’s in LA and they in NY, she packs her things from their shared apartment and leaves Timmy without a word. Fact is they broke up, u choose the ending!💓💓

A/N: Holy Cabbage my first request! Be cool Beta! So i changed one thing, but I hope it’s to your standard and you enjoy it.

Warnings: A bit of angst!

A PR Nightmare

Timothée Chalamet was a man madly in love, not with LRD or any of the other PR women he’d been pictured with, although his photo gallery was full of his girl. Y/n Y/l/n, dear God even her name sounded like a prayer. She was beautiful, the most beautiful human being he has ever met. And not just physically but inside too, she had a heart of gold and a soul as pure as freshly fallen snow. She would offer her help without even a second thought, like it was as normal as breathing to help others.

Yes she was the one for him, he thought as he lay beside her in bed early morning watching her eyes flutter open and smiled at her. ‘Good morning my love’ he leaned forward brushing her long hair away from her face and placed small kisses on her shoulder as she hummed and slid over to lay her head on his chest ‘Do you really have to go into work today? We could just stay in bed all day’

He sighed running his fingers up and down her back. ‘I want nothing more than that, but mark says he needs to see me and it’s urgent. So it’s unavoidable I’m afraid.’

She sighed nodding and kissed up his chest and neck slowly reaching his lips and held his face and pecked his lips.

‘Make it a quick meeting and I’ll be here waiting for you my love.’

He hummed returning the kisses and groaned when she moved away.

He got up with her and got dressed quickly wanting to get back quickly so he could spend the entire day with her as she walked into the shower room.

When Timmy returned she knew there was something off about him. She only had to take one look at him to know he had been crying and ran over to him and took his face in her hands ‘Timmy? Timothée look at me baby, what’s happened talk to me.’ He pushed her gently against the nearest wall burying his face against her neck mumbling ‘They’ve put me into a relationship with Kylie Jenner.’

She closed her eyes and held him tight. ‘It’s okay, we’ll figure something out, okay?’ She held him close as he nodded against her neck her T-shirt damp from his tears.

Three months later y/n was at home alone in LA while Timmy was asked to do some work in New York. She was scrolling through Twitter not really looking at anything when she got a notification from Instagram. There dressed in all white was Timmy on the Met Gala carpet smiling lazily, with Kylie Jenner at his side smirking away.

Y/n felt her heart stop, he never said anything about attending the Met Gala this year, y/n stumbled to the bathroom hearing her heartbeat in her ears and threw up.

When she was finished she walked upstairs and began packing her things in the bedroom she had been sharing with Timmy. She grabbed her phone and printed out the photo using her Instax mini printer and stuck it on a note she would leave for Timmy ‘Hope you had fun.’

She walked downstairs and left the note on the table in the hall and locked the door behind her.

She knew he didn’t have a say in the contract, but he lied to her about his business in New York, and she never thought he would do that to her.

She drove off into the night, her phone switched to silent in her bag.

@tchalamss

@sufferingstarlight

@kteezy997

@lixzey

@gatoenlaciudad

@wandasforyou

#lil timmy tim #timothèe chalamet #timothée hal chalamet #timothee chalamet angst #timmy x reader #timmy fanfics

[notjohnlegere]

Heyy, I just read it “toxic” and I’m begging for a part two😩

Maybe she finally leaves him, but after some months he comes back and they ended up together again? Maybe a little smut✨

Back by popular demand, Toxic pt. 2 ✨

———————————————————————

Done...Maybe

———————————————————————

Done...Maybe

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

sequel to toxic. the reader finally breaks up with timothée for good and he flips out. smutty ending, but some heavy stuff beforehand. if you like accurately written timmy, this isn’t for you.

*obligatory mobile formatting apology*

———————————————————————

He did fine...for a week.

He was faithful, polite, and loving. For a moment, you naïvely thought that maybe your old Timmy was coming back to you. How dumb you were for thinking that.

You were moving your things back into the bedroom when you heard the news. Your phone blew up, as it always did when your boy did something extravagant, but this time it was worse than you could’ve ever imagined.

You packed up your stuff and quickly left, your best friend Naomi graciously helped you move your things and still offered her spare room to you. You were a complete blubbering mess the whole time. You didn’t deserve her.

Naomi had asked her boyfriend to leave for the night. To give you two some girl time, which you knew was just code for you getting in trouble. Which you understood, you completely deserved it.

As you sat on the couch next to her, the both of you holding glasses of wine, a romcom quietly playing in the background, you braced yourself for yelling that never came.

“Do you really hate yourself that much?”

You were taken back by her quiet question, not really sure how you were supposed to answer it. You didn’t hate yourself. At least you didn’t think you did.

“What are you talking about?” You responded. She quickly snapped up your deflection.

“You know what I’m talking about.” Naomi said, taking a small sip from her wine glass. “You keep letting him hurt you. Over and over again. And you always go back to him. Don’t you know you’re just giving him the satisfaction of controlling you?”

You were quiet. She spoke up again and continued.

“I can’t keep doing this with you.” She said sternly. You could tell she was upset. She was so nice to you and loved you so much, she never got this serious unless there was a big problem. “I love you, and you will always have a friend in me, but I can’t keep supporting this watered down self-harm.”

You took a big gulp from your glass and thought about what she said. Watered down self-harm. Was that what this was? Did you think you deserved the hurt? Even worse, did you secretly like the pain? You had never really considered this angle before. But you trusted your friend, and you knew that if she got to this point, you had a serious issue.

“I won’t go back.” You said.

“You said that last time and ended up sleeping with him.”

“I can’t go back. I won’t allow myself. You’re my best friend. You’re more important to me than some stupid boy. Even if I did think he was the one.” You let out a weak laugh in attempt to cover your shame. Hot tears rolled down your cheeks and she put her arm around you. “God, why am I so stupid?”

“You’re not stupid.” She said your name. “You’re just desperate. Desperate for his love, and he doesn’t want to give it to you.”

That stung like a knife hitting your heart straight on. However, you knew she was right.

“If he really loved me he wouldn’t keep hurting me.” You came to the conclusion yourself and let out a sob.

“It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna find someone who will be better to you than him. And you’re gonna be so happy and in love you won’t remember his name.”

*

“I’m done, Timothée!” You shouted. You had reluctantly gone back to your apartment to retrieve the last of your things. This time Naomi came with you, but she was downstairs.

“Done with what?! Everything we’ve gone through?!” His voice was booming so loud that it cracked. For a moment you thought you saw pain in his eyes.

No. He’s not going to take advantage of me again. He’s no good.

“Everything we’ve gone through?! I’m the only one that’s gone through something and that is hell!” You shouted and he flipped the coffee table in the living room. This caused you to flinch. Never in all your years of knowing him have you seen him express such emotion.

“You can’t go!”

“Fucking watch me, Chalamet!”

He lunged at you and you froze in place. He didn’t put his hands on you, but he came very close to grabbing your arms. Your eyes widened and you felt tears beginning to fall down your face.

“I love you.” He said softly.

“No you don’t.” You croaked. “If you did, you wouldn’t treat me like you do. You wouldn’t cheat on me when you know how bad it hurts me. You wouldn’t call me crazy when I cry, and you wouldn’t say I’m psycho for having an opinion. You don’t love me. You just want to get your dick wet.”

His jaw was slack and he was frozen. He watched you gather up your things and storm out. You had finally put him in your past where he belonged.

*

Three months had come and gone, and time had barely let you know. Things moved more smoothly now. You didn’t have constant drama in your life, and you felt like everything was slipping by you quicker than ever. You weren’t sure if you were alright with that or not.

You had decided on one random Friday evening that you would go to a local bar and relax. You had brought along some extra work from your new class you had picked up, considering you were at the bar so early. You doubted anyone would bother you, and the place was always so quiet.

You didn’t plan on drinking that night. You just wanted a seltzer water and some good, greasy food. You were sitting at a table by yourself in the corner when you saw a bachelor party burst in the door. Shouting, partying, men being men, you changed your mind on not drinking. It gave you a migraine, and to make it all worse, you saw a familiar tuft of curls in the party of at least a few dozen.

He didn’t see you for a while, but when he finally did he just stared for a moment. He was giving you a look you had never seen before. It was so deep, so desperate. He looked like a sad puppy, a boy that had lost all lust for life, a broken heart personified.

No. He’s not going to take advantage of me again. He’s no good.

That’s probably what you would’ve told yourself if you were smart. And sober. But you were neither of those things.

There wasn’t even a greeting exchanged between you two. You waved your finger and he ran to you, his lips on yours and his tongue in your mouth within an instant. His party cheered, you knew that they had no clue who you were, but that was the least of your worries.

You drank him in and ate him up, tasting the familiar flavor of alcohol and cigarettes, something you never knew you’d miss.

“Take me.” You messily whispered against his lips.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

You were off your feet and he was dragging you to the bathroom before you had a chance to react. The room spun, and you clung to him as if your life depended on it, because you felt like it did.

“Timothée-“

“Shhh.” He shushed you with his lips once you were in the small bathroom. He slammed the door closed behind the two of you and locked it.

You gasped when you felt his hands slide under your top and grab your breasts. Everywhere his hands touched seemed to light you on fire.

“Fucking incredible tits.” He mumbled in a drunken slur. His mouth left yours and your shirt came off, the fabric quickly being replaced by his lips. Your bra followed suit.

“Oh, fuck.” You gasped when his mouth clamped around your nipple. Your fingers ran through his curls as you looked down, the blurry sight of your boy causing your core to throb. Almost as if he knew, his hand came into contact with your underwear under your skirt. You bucked your hips into his hand.

“So fucking desperate for me.” He whispered, grabbing hold of your underwear and tugging them down. “Bend over the sink and take my big cock like a good girl.”

You felt weak in the knees when you turned around and bent over the sink willingly. He grabbed your hair and pressed you further into the sink. A soft beg came from your lips before you could even think about what was happening.

“Please.”

“Fuck.” He swore as he bottomed out all at once, filling you fully. “You’re so tight and wet. When’s the last time you got fucked?”

“W-with you.” You stuttered, clenching your muscles around him. You let out a yelp when he began to thrust, hard and deep.

“Yeah?” He teased. “Didn’t get anyone else to take care of you?”

“N-no. Oh fuck me, oh god.”

“Why?” He slowed down. What a fucking tease he was, he knew exactly what he held over you. His hand gripped more at your hair. You let out a cry.

“Please just fuck me.” You were nearly in tears. You needed him so bad it almost hurt.

“Answer me and I will.”

“I-I don’t know.” You gasped when you felt his hand come into contact with your clit.

“I know.” He breathed into your ear. “Because this pussy? Is mine.” He lightly slapped your clit to get his point across.

“It’s yours!” You begged and ground your hips back against his.

“Nobody could ever satisfy you like me, and we both know that.”

You were about to beg again when his hips finally began moving against your body again. You threw your head back and shouted.

“I-I’m gonna-“

“No.” He stopped you from speaking with his hand. “Me first. Then you.”

You felt small to his words. You couldn’t believe the control he had over your body, but you didn’t have time to think about that right now.

Ragged thrusts, wild grunts, your hair being pulled so hard you feared it might fall out, and he sputtered. He filled you with his seed and pulled out.

“Please please please let me cum.” You gasped, desperately pressed your hips back. You looked into the mirror and didn’t see him in the reflection. You nearly decided that he had left you to fend for yourself when you felt hands on your thighs.

A soft growl and an all-too-familiar mouth came into contact with your soaking and throbbing core. Your eyes shut tightly and you threw your head back. You were crying out for him so loudly you knew you’d get kicked out and blacklisted as soon as you trudged back into the restaurant floor, but you didn’t care. It felt too good.

“Right there, right there, oh Timothée just like that.” You cried as you ground your clit into his lips, your orgasm taking you over as you soaked his face with your juices.

You nearly collapsed when you came down, but strong, slender arms gripped your waist. He held you back against his chest.

“So good, so good for me.” He cooed into your hair quietly. “I love you. Fuck, I love you so much.”

You stayed silent. You didn’t love him anymore.

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ao3 is johnlegere, find my fics there too. requests are open, send one in my ask box. hope you enjoyed :)!

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[timchalamet-devoted]

Nowhere to go

A/N: It took much longer to finish this one, and it really is unlike the other ones I've written before. It also focuses on much heavier subjects that may be uncomfortable for some.

There is some fluff at the end, but it is mainly angst.

Summary: After an awful falling out with her family, the reader is left completely alone on the streets with nowhere to go and no one to call for aid.

Paring: fem reader x Timothée

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, experiencing a panic attack, difficult family relations

----------------------------------------------------

You slammed the door behind you, not daring to look back. You tore down the front porch, through the garden and onto the sidewalk, not stopping there, but only picking up your pace. You tightened the thin jumper around your freezing frame as the cold night air engulfed you sending goosebumps all along your exposed skin.

Tears started brimming your eyes, and soon spilled out accompanied by gut-wrenching sobs.

Not only had your parents isolated you your entire life but now they tried to stop you from doing what you truly loved. You simply had to leave. It was a decision you had to make, and you knew that, but the consequences were ones you were in no way prepared for.

The city traffic roared, and the almost taunting laughter and lighthearted chatter of others echoed through the air seemingly shaking your surroundings. Your head pounded uncontrollably from the deafening noise that overwhelmed all your senses.

With a shrill scream, you fell to your knees, hands clutching your head. Your eyelids were tightly shut as you begged for it all to stop, tears cascading down your skin without end. The world around you was spinning out of control, making you unbearably dizzy. You were sent into a frenzied panic as you realised that you had nowhere to go, and as pathetic as it sounded you had no home of your own. It felt as though your heart was beating so loud, it would surely break from your ribcage at any second. Your breathing picked up into wild pants as you started to hyperventilate, finally acknowledging that you were completely lost; a lonely girl on the streets.

After some time, your sobs finally quietened down and you managed to pull yourself off the ground, however, your legs were still weak. You fathomed that you couldn't stay here in the middle of the street, pitying yourself all night and that you had to find someplace to stay, at least temporarily. You fumbled with the pockets of your jumper, pulling out your phone. You scrolled through the list of contacts, unsure of who you could call, and who would care enough to pick up. You stopped, finger hovering over Timothée's name. He was your best friend of seven years, who you knew for sure would be willing to drop everything for you, and yet you hesitated. You were unsure why, but eventually, you turned your phone off, stuffing it back Into your pocket. Perhaps you were guilty of disturbing him, not wanting to burden him with your problems.

You walk for what seems like hours, head-heavy and fatigued, and your legs barely able to keep you up. You had no destination in mind, but hoped you would find a solution somewhere along the way. However, you grew more and more hopeless as the minutes ticked by. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a bar, thankfully, still open. Desperate for some form of distraction, this was a welcoming sight.

Once through the doors, the harsh stench of alcohol hit you.

You called the bartender over, ordering a shot of their strongest liquor, fishing out a few notes.

You drank your pain away, gulping down shot after shot, losing all sense of reality.

By the time you stumbled out of the bar, it was already 1 in the morning, and you were utterly drunk, to the point where you couldn't see more than a couple of feet in front of you. Your mind was clouded your vision blurry. You were barely conscious and thinking clearly was certianly not something you could master at this point in time. You wandered some more, feeling numb, emotionally and physically exhausted.

Astonishingly, despite your state, you were somehow able to recognise the neighbourhood you were in as the one where the studio in which Timothée's newest film was being shot. You had an inkling feeling it was because you had been there so often.

Absentmindedly, you trudged through the trailer park and up to the building, finally crumpling to the ground and resting on the curb. It was dark all except a single lamppost that illuminated you and some of your surroundings. You could feel your sore eyes prick with tears again, as they slowly flowed down your cheeks and pooled at the corners of your mouth, some seeping in. Bouncing you leg, you anxiously bit your nails, desperately trying to think of something to do.

It was the late hours of the night, around 2 am you presumed, therefore you were expecting the studio to be empty. However, your breath hitched as you heard a voice; a familiar one at that. You wait, still with anticipation as none other than Timothée turns the corner. He spots you instantly.

You look up at him with heartbroken and pleading eyes, attempting to blink back the tears that streamed down your face. His face visibly breaks seeing the pain etched onto your beautiful features.He rushed over to you, embracing you in a tight hug, trying his best to comfort your weak frame, heavy with sobs. Your bitter tears dampened his shirt as he cradled you in his arms, fingers raking through your hair.

Then the rain started, soaking you both, and yet he continued to rock you from side to side, a single lamppost illuminating the two of you.

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