Books, Pillow Talks, And An Attention-craving Boy

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.

Haunted House

Jonathan Crane x fem!Reader

"Johnny, please. I don't want to go in," I whined, tugging on the sleeve of my best friend, as we started to near the entrance.

"Come on darling, I'll be right next to you the whole time," he said, intertwining our fingers together, giving my hand a small but reassuring squeeze.

I nodded my head, holding on to his hand tighter when I realized we were the next people in line to go in. "Okay, next," the lady said, nodding her head to Jonathan and I.

"Have fun," she sinisterly said, smiling widely at us, causing me to hug Jonathan as if my life depended on it.

"Don't be scared, love, she says that to everyone," he said, laughing a little as he hugged me back.

We walked through the blood-stained door to be greeted with a room that looked identical to a meat locker. Taking a deep breath, I looked around the room noticing that there were meat hooks, hanging animals, hanging body part, black and white flashing lights making it harder to see, not to mention the room was so cold that smoke appeared whenever someone talked, or even breathed.

I looked over at Jonathan, seeing an amused look on his face. He had this psychopathic, crazed look in his eyes, making me nervous at the thought of this amusing him. "Jon, I don't like this," I whispered, looking up at him.

"How? This is so fascinating. The affects the smoke, the blood, the animals, not to mention the screams. Don't you like it?" He said, smiling like a little boy who just got handed ice cream. 

I knew he liked these things. He has been trying to convince me to go with him to a haunted house for years. But something about him getting pleasure from other people's fears seemed a bit off to me. But I never really cared to think about it. I was just grateful enough at the fact that he let me cling onto him, since he was the polar opposite of affectionate. He hated giving and receiving any form of affection.

"No, I don't Jon," I said, giving him a weird look as he just rolled his eyes in response. 

We kept walking for what seemed as if forever, when all of a sudden, this overly tall guy that was wearing a white apron with blood and slashes all over it and who was carrying a big, butcher knife, jumps from behind the door causing me to let out the loudest, blood curling scream I had ever heard. I practically jumped onto Jonathan, burying my head into his neck, on the verge of tears, as he was now forced to carry me.

All he did was let out a laugh, reaching over a little to pat me on the head, "It's okay little one, I'm here to protect you." The mockery in his tone being very apparent.

After the second jump scare, I ended up forcing Jonathan to carry me until we reached the end of the haunted house, making him swear on my life that he will never bring me to another one of these things ever again. 

Worries and apologies

Timothée Chalamet x fem!Reader

I slammed the passenger door of my fiancé's car shut as I stormed inside mine and Timothée’s house, not caring enough to wait for him to get out of the car. I walked into our bedroom, crawling into bed, and pulling the blanket up to my neck, my back facing the door.

I sat there taking in everything that had happened earlier that day, growing more upset as I replayed Timothée screaming at me in front of our family and friends over and over again in my head.

Timothée and I had planned on going to dinner with our close friends and family as a way of spending our 3 year anniversary, but it didn't go as any of us expected. We ended up getting into an argument before we could even leave the restaurant.

I laid in the dark as tears started to form in my eyes as I tried to sink further into the mattress, wishing that I could just disappear.

I eventually decided that I was going to stay at a hotel for a few days, since I figured Timothée wouldn't want to see me. I grabbed the telephone that was on the side table, dialing a hotel's number as I waited for them to pick up. Once they did, they informed me that there would be an available spot in an hour. They said that they just needed to get it cleaned and that they would call back when it was ready. So I made a reservation before I got up from my bed, walking into my closet, grabbing my pajamas and a couple of outfits before stuffing them into a small bag. I went back into bed, waiting for the phone to ring, when I heard the bedroom door opening and then slamming shut. I jumped a little at the noise as I pulled the blanket up more, hoping that he wouldn't try to talk to me. However, my hopefulness soon disappeared as I felt the bed dip.

I pulled the blanket further up my body, as I tried to pretend that he wasn't there. Which worked up until I felt his arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer to him until my back hit his chest, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. I sat there, not moving, waiting for him to talk. It didn't take long before I heard him speaking in a calming tone, slightly whispering. He almost never spoke that way with me unless he knew I was unhappy with him. He thinks that if he lowers his volume, it will make up for raising his voice at me, but it doesn't.

"Y/n, I'm sorry for earlier. I shouldn't have raised my voice at you. It won't happen again, I promise." He said, pressing a kiss on my neck with every word he spoke.

I knew that what he was telling me was the truth, but I couldn't help but feel like it wasn't. So I stayed put. I felt him holding onto me tighter as I started to feel bad. I was about to roll over when I heard the phone starting to ring, "hello, who is this?" I heard Timothée say, as I closed my eyes, hoping that it wasn't the hotel. 

"Oh uh no I would like to cancel that reservation." He said in a serious tone.

I looked up seeing him with an unreadable look on his face, soon enough he put the phone down as he turned to the side to face me, "You were going to leave?" He asked me, moving a strand of hair away from my eyes.

I didn't know what to say. How could I tell the man I am about to marry that I was thinking of leaving him for a few days? So I just nodded my head.

"Please don't ever leave me, I'm so sorry." Timothée said, his voice breaking, before engulfing me into a tight hug.

 "I won't, I’m sorry, I forgive you," I whispered in his ear, wrapping my arms around his neck, playing with the tips of his hair. 

"Promise?" He asked, keeping his head into my neck, not wanting to look at me.

"I promise," I said, pressing a kiss on the top of his head as I pulled his body closer to mine, my heart melting when he wrapped his arms around me.

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,"

Fuck it

Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

"Stiles, shut up the fuck up," I whispered, trying my hardest to contain my laughter.

Stiles and I were in literature class, sitting next to each other, which normally would be a good, effective thing. But, however, for some reason, he wouldn't stop putting his cold hands under my shirt me.

He reached over towards me for the fourth time in this class, trying to stick his hands under my sweater. However, I slapped his hand away before he could reach my stomach, causing a loud noise to fill up the classroom. "L/n, Stilinski, care to explain what's going on back there?" Our teacher asked, giving us his best disappointed face, but we knew that he loves us way too much to actually be mad at us.

"No, sir," I said in a polite tone, but I was flipping Stiles off under the table.

"Okay, well, back to what I was saying-" the teacher continued, but I tuned him out after the first couple of words.

I was scribbling down random shapes on my paper when I felt Stiles'  cold hands reach under my sweater, pressing against my stomach. "Holy fuck!" I screamed, a little too loudly.

"Okay, that's it. Out of my class right now!" The teacher yelled. This time, he wasn't joking around.

We awkwardly gathered our things, before exiting the class, but as soon as the door shut, we both broke down laughing. "As unfortunate as the situation was, you have to admit; it was pretty funny." He said. 

 "Fuck you, dipshit," I said, shoving my hip into Stiles'.

"You love me," he said, flicking my forehead.

We were walking down the hallways until we decided to take a backtrack and just go on the roof instead of the principal's office. And since Literature was the last class of the day, it didn't really matter that much is we dipped. 

We were sitting down on the edge of the building, talking about the most randomest things when Stiles cut me off. "Hey n/n, can I ask you something?" he asked, looking down as he nervously fidgeting with his rings.

"Yeah, of course,"

"Well, I ju–I just wanted to–fuck it." He said, grabbing onto my face, pulling me into a kiss.

Once we broke apart, his eyes anxiously looked at mine, hoping I shared the same feelings as him, but after I didn't respond, he scrunched his face up. "Y/n, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking–"

I cut him off by pressing my lips back to his, except this time when he went to pull away from me, I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him in place. After a while I pulled away, sending him a smile. "I like you," I said, red tinting my cheeks.

"I like you too," he responded, going to kiss me for the third time, but got cut off by the school bell.

"Guess that's our cue," he said, getting off the ledge, and helping me to get off as well.

"Bye Stiles," I said, kissing his cheek, before walking out the door.

P.s I love you

Peter Parker x fem!Reader

It was around midnight and I was sitting down at my desk, trying to complete my English paper that's due in the morning. I was finishing up the 3rd paragraph when I heard the sound of light tapping noises on my window. Knowing it was most likely my boyfriend Peter, I got up and walked over to the window, opening it for him.

When I pulled back the drapes, a light gasp escaped my mouth at the sight that was in-front of me. Peter was in his spiderman suit, which was littered with rips and stains. He had a black eye, a busted lip, and his entire body was stained with what I believe, and in the back of my mind, what I hoped, was his own blood.

I quickly unlocked the window, helping him in. "What the hell happened to you?" I whisper shouted.

He lifted his right leg over, stumbling into my room. I quickly grabbed onto his arm, trying to help him stabilize. I dragged him over to my bed, kneeling down in front of his legs, to examine his current state.

He had his head down, trying to not make eye contact with me. I let out a huff of annoyance as I got up from my kneeling position, "Wait here," I said, leaving my room so I could get some supplies.

Once I came back, he was sitting down on my bed, with the top of his suit off, revealing his toned abs. I walked over towards him, crouching down, giving him my best disappointed look. "Look—" He started, but I cut him off.

"I don't want to hear it."

Was that a little harsh? Yes, yes, it was.

But in my defense, he promised me that he'd take a break from fighting today, since he was already badly injured from a fight he had lost a few days ago. It hasn't even been 4 hours and he has already broken his promise.

Once I finished cleaning the blood off his face and chest, I left the room once again to dump out the blood-soaked water and to wash my hands. "Y/n, please don't be mad at me," Peter said, giving me his puppy dog eyes.

I ignored him, walking over to my dresser, pulling out a pair of basketball shorts and an oversized t-shirt, which originally belong to Peter. I tossed it at him, sitting down at my desk so I could finish my essay.

A couple minutes go by and I hear him shuffling around. I assume, so he could change out of his suit. "Y/n—" He whined, hugging me from behind, and sticking his head into my neck.

"What?" I replied, harshly.

He spun my chair around so I was facing him. "I'm sorry," he said, taking my face into his hands and pressing a light kiss to my lips.

"Please forgive me?"

"Fine, but you better not show up at my window tomorrow all bloody," I said, pointing my index finger at him and giving him a jokingly stern look.

"yes ma'am," he laughed, pressing another kiss to my lips.

"Can we cuddle now?" He opened his arms wide, giving me a goofy smile.

I laughed at his expression. "I got to finish this." I said, showing him my computer.

"I'll do it for you if we can cuddle right now." He offered, raising an eyebrow.

"Fine," I gave in, knowing that if he did my assignment, I would most likely get a higher grade on the paper than I would if I did it.

I stood up from my chair to be immediately thrown over his shoulder. He walked over towards my bed, throwing me harshly on it before he got in as well, laying down on top of me and burying his head into the crook of my neck, his hair tickling me a little. "Good night Petey," I said.

He took his head out of my neck, giving me a disgusted look, making me laugh once again at his face expression. "Night," He mumbled, falling asleep on me.

*** The next morning, I woke up to be greeted by an empty bed. I groaned, sitting up as I looked at the clock. A small gasp escaped my lips when I realized that I was about to be late for school. I got up, sloppily putting on my outfit, before walking over towards my desk, praying that Peter hadn't forgotten to do the assignment. I scrolled down, feeling my heart flutter at what he had written. Not only did he finish my paper, but he also wrote a brief note at the bottom.

'Sorry, I had to leave. I didn't want to deal with Aunt May. Meet me under the bleacher at lunch. PS. I love you.'