Timothe Chalamet Oneshots - Tumblr Posts

Cigarettes

Timothée Chalamet x fem!Reader

An unwanted, yet all so familiar scent filled the room as I tossed and turned in bed, waking up, but not being able to go back to sleep. I turned to my side, not really expecting, but rather hoping that I would see my husband, Timothée, but he wasn't there. I looked around the room until I saw a bare back sitting in the corner, hunched over a desk. Yesterday he talked about some paperwork he needed to do, so I'm assuming he's finishing that up.

He had a cigarette; or, as I liked to call it, a cancer in between his lips. As he inhales, moving it away for a moment, exhaling, as the smoke leaves his mouth in numerous, perfectly formed rings.

The room quickly starts to feel stuffy, as if the walls were caving in on me. I walked over to the window that was to the side of our bedroom, feeling as if I could suffocate at any given moment. I quickly opened the window, taking a long, deep breath as I bathed in the fresh air. Thinking to myself about how I will never take nature for granted anymore. I let the cold air slowly consume the room, sighing with relief as the cigarette smell already started to fade.

The winter breeze hits my exposed legs, as I just now realized I was only in my underwear and one of Timothée's old white button ups. "Morning," he mumbles, not glancing up from his paper, taking another breath of his fake air.

I start heading towards our bathroom, a cough escaping my mouth as I splash cold water in my face, hoping to help relive the throbbing pain in my upper head. But to my dismay, it only made it worse. My head starting to pound from the smoke. The throbbing sensation, now taking a hold of my entire face, as I let out a whimper, wondering to myself why he puts me through this kind of pain every morning.

I exited the bathroom, dizzily walking over to Tim's desk, "Could you either take that elsewhere or put it out already? It's fucking hard to breathe in here!" I said rather harshly. I never meant to sound rude, but using a tone was the only efficient way to make him listen. 

He takes a glance over at me for a second, shock written all over his face. But none the less he listened. He held up one hand in defence while the other put the cigarette out. "Sorry, love," he said with a sigh, running his hands through his brown-colored hair.

I rolled my eyes at him before walking over to the window once again. I heard him getting up from his seat, feeling his toned arms wrapping around my waist not even a second later, bringing instant warmth to my body. He bent down slightly so he could nuzzle his head into my neck, causing me to cringe at the coldness of his nose. He began planting small kisses from my shoulder, all the way to the top of my neck, causing me to shrug him off. "Are you ever gonna quit?" I asked slightly hesitantly, needing to confront him about his issue but at the same time not wanting him to be mad at me.

I could see his shocked face from the reflection of the window. "Stop what?" he asked, now putting on a confused face.

I let out a tired sigh, turning around to face him, "Oh, come on, Timothée Hal, don't be an idiot right now." I snapped at him, crossing my arms.

"Love, I have no idea what you're talking about," he calmly said, only making me more upset with him.

"Like you don't know. You always smell like cigarettes, and I'm tired of having to ruin my own lungs for your unhealthy habits." I said, not looking him in the eyes.

"Come on, it's not that bad," he said, obviously irritated that I brought the subject up.

"It is 6 in the damn morning, Timothée, and you've already smoked enough today to make this whole fucking room suffocate me!" I scoffed, tearing up slightly.

"How many have you had today? Three, five, six, nine!" I yelled. 

"I've had three, it's not that bad," he snapped, starting to walk away from me.

"Oh, it's not that bad? Well, my mistake for thinking having three cigarettes at six in the damn morning is concerning. I don't know why you're acting as if I'm some kind of idiot. I know that you always have at least two full packs on you at all times. But yeah, my fucking bad for worrying about my husband." I said, following close behind him as tears started to form in my eyes, clouding up my vision.

"Okay, I fucking get it!" He yelled, slamming his hands down on a table, causing me to gasp.

"But you don't! We have had this conversation countless other times and you give me the same answer every single fucking time! You say you'll try to quit and that you would do anything for me, but it doesn't mean shit right now, and quit frankly I'm fucking terrified that it won't ever! Why can't you see how much this is affecting me, affecting you?" I screamed back, my heart breaking at the sight of him tensing up as all signs of anger clears from his face.

"Listen, I get it. It's fun for now, but I can't sit back in silence anymore as I watch you slowly kill yourself. I love you way too much for that." I said, my voice breaking as tears were now fully rolling down my cheeks.

He reached his hand up to my face, lightly wiping the tears away, before pressing a kiss on both of my cheeks "I love you too, but it's not that easy to quit, you know," he said, both of his hands now cupping my face as he placed numerous kisses to the side of my head.

"I know baby, but have you even tried?"

"Yes." He mumbled, now looking down.

I rolled my eyes, "whatever then. I'm leaving until you get your problem sorted out." I said, pushing him off of me as I started to walk away, but before I could even take two steps, I feel him grabbing my wrist and pulling me towards him, into a hug.

"Please don't go, baby, I'm so sorry. I promise I'll stop. Just please don't go." He said, pressing sloppy kisses all around my face. 

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I will, y/n please, just don't go. I love you so much." He said, holding onto me as if he were about to fall to his death. 

I brought my hand up to his hair, slightly tugging on the roots of it, placing a small peck on his forehead. After a while, I loosened out of his grip, walking over to the jacket hook, where his cigarettes lied. "So you wouldn't care if I threw these away?" I questioned, holding up three packs of cigarettes, one almost empty but two of them not even opened yet.

He stared at me for a while, taking a deep breath, before taking the packs from my hand, quickly walking over to the restroom before emptying them into the toilet, flushing them quickly, and disregarding the packaging in the trash. Causing the biggest smile to form on my face.

"Give me one second, there's more," he said, walking over to his desk, opening the drawer up and pulling out one more pack, doing the same to that pack as he did to the last three.

He turned to face me, pulling me into another hug. "I love you so much," he said, kissing all over my face, causing me to laugh. 

"I know baby." I said, jokingly, laughing at his scrunched up face. 

"I can always buy more cigarettes." He said with a straight face, trying his best to hold in a laugh.

 "I love you too, Timothée Hal." I said, pushing his head down a little by his hair, forcing him to kiss me. 

Stop taking your hands out of mine

Timothée Chalamet x fem!Reader

'Boys don't cry' by The Cure played silently from the beat-up speaker that was sitting on top of my desk. I was sitting down on my bed with my boyfriend Timothée, who was laying down in between my legs, holding up the book 'The Body' by Stephen King as we read it together. One of his hands was flipping through the pages while the other was enlaced with mine. Timothée and I started dating a little more than four months ago, and ever since we made it official, he has been at my house almost every day. And quite frankly, I'm almost positive that he's at my house more than his own. But I honestly didn't care. I enjoyed his company more than anything.

One word everyone uses to describe our relationship is 'perfect'. We rarely fought and when we did, it was always a petty argument like, 'which cookie is best.' Everyone who has seen us together, all say we are "a match made from heaven," which makes me happy knowing people liked me and Timothée together.

We read a few more pages until I heard Timothée sigh rather loudly, as he closed the book and flipping over so that his face was nuzzling into my neck. I took my hand out of his, brushing some loose strands of his long brown hair out of his eyes. He let out a whinny groan, taking my hand back into his.

After a few minutes, he started to close his eyes, pressing little kisses all over my neck and jaw, making butterflies erupt in my stomach. I let out a yawn, looking down at Timothée. Seeing him peacefully sleeping started to make me tired. I took my hand out of his for the second time, now closing my eyes. I was almost asleep when I felt him jab his index finger into my side, waking me up. I opened my eyes, seeing Timothée with a very unhappy, almost annoyed expression. "Stop taking your hand out of mine," he said with a pouting face. He rolled his eyes, taking my hand back in his, except this time he held it tight.

"Sorry," I whispered, closing my eyes once again.

After a while of silence, I assumed he was sleeping until he spoke up. "I love you," he said, but because his head was buried in the crook of my neck, it came out muffled.

"I love you too," I said, with a smile plastered on my face before wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer to me, and resting one of my hands on the top of his head, lightly holding his face close to my chest.

"Night babe," I whispered, repeatedly kissing his hair, as he just quietly hums.

Sleepy

Timothée Chalamet x fem!Reader

I was currently on my way to pick up my boyfriend Timothée from his house, because we both made plans with a few of our high school friends a while back. I was really excited to hangout with them since I haven't seen them for a while due to Timothée's hectic acting career.

Once I pulled up to his driveway, I pulled my phone out to text him that I was here. Once I sent the message, I picked up my water bottle, about to take a drink, when I heard the passenger door open, then slam shut. I looked to the side to see Timothée slumped down in the seat with his head resting against the car door.

"Hey baby," I said, but got no response in return.

"Baby?" I said again, but this time he turned his head to look at me, a weak smile plastered on his face.

Once I got a good look at his face, I immediately felt bad for him. He looked like he hadn't slept in ages; he had blood-shot eyes, he was slightly paler than usual, with terrible eye bags, and to top it all off, a bad case of bed head. But I still thought that he looked absolutely mesmerizing. "Hi mon amour," he said quietly, almost in a whisper.

I leaned over to place a small kiss on his cheek, which earned a small smile from him.

"I've missed you," he said, grabbing my hand and interlocking it with his own, bringing it up to his mouth and placing a kiss to my knuckles.

"I missed you too," I replied, starting to back out of the driveway.

Once we arrived at the cafe where we would be meeting our friends at, I looked to the side, to see Timothée sleeping; so I leaned over to him, unbuckling his seatbelt and slightly shaking him, trying to wake him up. "We're here."

I heard Timothée let out a groan, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "What's the matter, Tim?" I asked him, moving a strand of black hair out of his eye, then pressing the palm of my hand to his cheek.

He placed his hand over mine, leaning into my touch. "Oh nothing much, I'm just tired." He replied, letting out a sigh.

"We can go home if you're not feeling good."

"It's okay, mon amour, I'm feeling fine, just a little drowsy, that's all," he said, giving me a reassuring smile.

Once we got out of the car, Timothée interlocked our hands together, placing a kiss to the side of my head. "Timmy look, it's them!" I said excitedly, running a little to get to them quicker, pulling him along with me.

Once we reached their table, my friend Sally immediately got up from her seat, running up to us and engulfing me in a tight hug. "Finally, you guys are here. I was starting to think y'all were gonna stand me up," she said, laughing.

"Hey," I said back, laughing a little before all three of us took our seats.

"Wasn't Mike supposed to be here?" Timothée asked.

"Oh yeah, no, he was supposed to come, but he got held up at the office," Sally said, shaking her head a little with her words.

Once the waitress came and took our orders, I turned to Timothée, seeing that he was struggling to keep his eyes open. After a few minutes, I felt a heavyweight go on my shoulder. Looking up a little, I saw Timothée's head resting on my shoulder. I quickly kissed his forehead, mumbling a quick 'I love you' before continuing my conversation with Sally.

After a few minutes, I felt his hand unlock with mine, and I could feel him fiddling with my rings. After an hour goes by, and we finished our coffee and caught up on everything, I decided that it was time to get Timothée home. "Okay, well, we should probably head home," I said with a pout on my face.

"Yeah, of course, of course." She said back, as all three of us stood up.

"Well, we definitely need to do this more often," I said, pulling her into a tight hug.

Once we said our goodbyes and parted ways, me and Timothée walked back to our car, getting inside, and interlocking our hands once again. "Did you sleep at all last night?" I asked Timothée, turning my head to look at him.

"Not really." He quietly said, kissing my lips before resting his head against the door.

Once we arrived at his house, I turned the engine off before turning to face him, "We're here darling," I said, placing multiple kisses on his cheek.

He let out a groan before lifting his head up and unbuckling his seat belt, "Can you come inside, I wanna cuddle," he said with a pout."

"Of course," I said, smiling.

We opened our doors before walking to the front door. Once we made our way to the bedroom, he immediately pushed me onto his bed, situating himself onto of me before burying his head into the crook of my neck. "Je t'aime," he said.

"I love you too,"

Books, pillow talks, and an attention-craving boy

Timothée Chalamet x fem!Reader

I was engrossed in 'If We Were Villains," by M. L. Rio, when I heard the door to mine and my boyfriend, Timothée's shared bedroom creak open—just enough for him to peak in. "Hi love," he chimed, entering the room and settling down beside me.

Despite knowing that Tim was there, my eyes remained glued to the page. "Hey," I murmured, too absorbed in the book to feign enthusiasm.

"What are you reading?" He inquired, shifting to lay down directly on top of me, harshly pressing his face into my stomach.

I awkwardly folded the book so that he could see the cover, prompting him to nod in acknowledgement once he read the title.

For about 20 minutes, Tim tried everything he could to divert my attention away from my book and onto him. But once he realized my unwavering focus on the book, he started to grow bored. With a dramatic sigh, he got up, slamming the door shut.

I flinched a little at the sound, but overall I didn't think too much of it as I continued to read, since I was nearing the end. After I read it from front to back, I closed the book, setting it down on my nightstand, before getting up to go look for Tim.

As I descended the stairs, I noticed an unusual quietness, contrary to Timothée's usual ruckus. Muffled talking reached my ears as I entered the living room, finding Tim asleep on the couch with our old, beaten-up radio softly playing in the background.

I walked over to him, waking him up with a gentle shake; he let out a groan, slowly opening his eyes, before asking, "What do you want?" with a hint of sass.

"I want to cuddle," I whispered, reaching my arms out to him, repeatedly making a grabby hand motion, while giving him my best puppy dog eyes.

"Oh so now you want to give me attention," he said, rolling his eyes and turning away from me.

"Timmy," I whined, sitting beside him and pressing my head into his neck, placing a few light kisses there as a way to convince him to cuddle with me.

When he didn't respond, I pressed my mouth against his ear, whispering, "Please baby," while rubbing small circles on his back.

After a moment of faux contemplation, he smiled, lazily pulling me on top of him, before shifting so that I was under him. Once we both got comfortable, he wrapped his arms around my waist, nuzzling his head into my neck, gently sucking on the skin there, causing me to bite back a moan from the sensation he was giving me. "Goodnight, mon amour," he said with a smirk, momentarily lifting his head up to press a kiss on my forehead before returning his face back to my neck.

"Night night," I sleepily replied, wrapping my arms and legs around him, pulling him as close to me as possible.

Only one bed

Timothée Chalamet x fem!Reader

The anticipation for the premiere of my latest project, 'little women' had my nerves on edge as I sat in the airport, waiting for my Uber. Tomorrow's event promised excitement and anxiety in equal measure – after all, being one of the main characters in a show was a huge accomplishment for me.

As I scrolled through my Instagram feed, a message from my driver notified me of his arrival. Stepping outside the airport, I was met by a cheerful man who swiftly took my suitcase and stowed it in the trunk before we set off on the short journey, engaging in light conversation along the way.

My phone buzzed incessantly with notifications from the group chat comprised of my fellow 'Little women' cast members. Amidst the chatter, the revelation that we had to share rooms due to a booking oversight surfaced. I sighed inwardly, hoping I wouldn't end up rooming with Timothée – a fellow actor whom I didn't like, at all.

"Miss, we're here," The driver said, getting out and walking around to the trunk to get my bags. Once I got out of the car, I heard someone shout, "Y/N!" looking up I saw Florence with her arms wide open sprinting over to me. I smiled at her, engulfing her in a bear hug. We stayed that way for a while until we heard someone calling our names. We turned around to see Saoirse behind us. "We're deciding who's rooming with who." She said, walking back to the hotel's lobby with Florence and I following close behind her.

***

"Oh fuck no!" I yelled, "I'm not going to be sharing a room with this mother fucker." I said pointing towards Timothée.

"Yeah, and I don't want to share a room with her either!" He retorted, crossing his arms and pouting, causing me to roll my eyes at his childish behavior.

After a while of arguing I eventually gave up, knowing I wouldn't win this argument.

I was to share a room with Timothée. Our mutual disdain for each other was palpable as we rode the elevator to the 19th floor.

"Going up," the elevator announced as it started moving.

I shot Timothée a scornful glare, my irritation palpable at the thought of sharing a room, especially with him – the last person I wanted as a roommate.

The elevator opened revealing the floor we would all be staying on for the next few days. We all went our separate ways just wanting to get to our rooms.

Timothée and I were walking down the halls when we saw our room number. Disgruntled and resigned to our fate, Timothée opened the door throwing his bags on the floor and going straight to the bathroom, grabbing a cup, and filling it with water, while I just stood in the middle of the room in shock.

"Uh, Timothée," I called out to him.

"What n/n?" He said with attitude, walking over towards me and taking a sip from his water.

"Look!" I said, pointing to the spacious yet troubling sight – a solitary king-size bed occupying the center of the room.

Any other person from the cast and I would've been totally fine with it. Why out of all the people did it have to be with Timothée? "You sleep on the bed; I'll sleep on the floor,""He said, grabbing two of the pillows and one of the blankets.

Feeling guilt take over my body, I said, "Tim, it's fine; we could just share the bed; we could put a pillow to divide us."

He didn't reply; he just smiled, throwing the pillow and blanket back on the bed before leaving for the bathroom once again. Timothée emerged from the bathroom in casual blue-and-white pajamas, a departure from his usual appearance. He settled onto his side of the bed, slipping beneath the duvet and cuddling against his pillow. He actually looked kinda cute right now. As much as I hated to admit it, he was a really attractive guy, he just has a terrible personality.

I, too, got under the covers, snuggling up into my pillow before drifting off to sleep.

The night passed relatively quiet until the early hours of the morning, I awoke to sudden movement in the room. To my dismay, my eyes slowly opened to reveal Florence, Emma, and Saoirse standing around the bed, brandishing their phones like paparazzi. I shot up, waking Timothée up from my sudden movements. "What the hell are you guys doing in here?" I questioned.

"I think the real question is how you even got in here." Timothée said, with an annoyed expression.

"Irrelevant," Florence said as Saoirse shoved her phone in our faces.

"Look how cute you guys look!" She said, revealing a photo of Timothée and me spooning with his arm wrapped around me.

My face flushed red as I looked down trying to hide my face. After a while of them teasing us, they eventually left. "Hey, um sorry about that, I didn't know I did that in, my sleep," Timothée said, his head down in embarrassment.

I put my hand on top of his making him look at me. "It's fine, really," I said, smiling at him.

Driven by a surge of impulse, I closed the distance between us, our lips colliding in an unexpected union. Timothée responded, his touch gentle yet firm as he cradled my face in his hands. A smile crept onto my lips as I tangled my fingers in his curls, savoring the moment of intimacy. We both pulled away for air, going back for another kiss when we heard someone clearing their throat, jumping away from each other we saw Emma and Saoirse with big smiles on their face, "you owe me 20 bucks, pay up." Florence said, putting her hand out.

"Seriously how the fuck are you guys getting in here?!"

***

This is definitely not my best work ever, so I apologize for that.

Hair dye

Timothée Chalamet x fem!Reader

"Tim, you have to sit still, unless you want to look like Oscar the grouch." I teased, carefully applying more blue hair dye to my boyfriend Timothée's now blond curls.

With less than a week before he had to return to film his latest movie in LA, Tim arrived home two days ago with a list of tasks he needed to complete, including the need for blue hair.

Nerves fluttered within me when he first mentioned dyeing his hair. Since it had been five years since I last experimented with hair dye at the age of 16. And the last thing I wanted to do was to jeopardize his appearance and disrupt the film schedule.

"Are you almost done?" he whined, growing bored.

"Just about, you just have to sit with this in for an hour then rinse it out." I replied painting the last bit of his bleached blond hair.

"Done," I announced, watching as he eagerly grabbed his phone to catch a glimpse of his new hair. His eyes widened in a mixture of shock and distaste, causing a chuckle from me.

"You're dashing, baby," I teased, causing him to roll his eyes.

I retrieved a hair cap from the table to contain the dye and returned to Tim. "Do you still love me, even though I look hideous?" he pouted, turning to face me.

"My love, I hate to break it to you, but I never loved you," I teased, prompting a shocked expression from him before he enveloped me in a hug from behind.

"You really don't love me?" He said pouting in disappointment. "Because I love you," he declared, showering kisses along my shoulder and neck, knowing full well I was ticklish there.

"I love you too, Timmy," I responded, turning around to face him, and immediately he ducked his head down and pulled me into a kiss. What started as just an innocent kiss now turned into a make out session. His lips travelled to my neck, gently sucking on the skin. He was planting sloppy kisses on my collarbone making his way up to my neck. Suddenly, the timer interrupted, eliciting a groan from Tim.

"Well, thats your cue," I remarked, stealing a quick kiss before retreating to wash my hands.

As I turned on the faucet, Tim's voice echoed from the bathroom doorway, "Don't forget the soap! I can't go back to filming with blue handprints all over my body!"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Oh, believe me, Tim, that won't be a problem!"