Imagine Book 2

A Christmas Surprise Gone Awry- Timothee Chalamet (Actor)

Fem Y/N

The warehouse was abuzz with activity. Cameras rolled, crew members scurried about, and the faint hum of holiday music played on someone's phone. Timothée Chalamet stood at the center of it all, immersed in his craft. The towering Christmas tree set for the scene glittered with ornaments, but none of it caught Y/N's eye as she approached the set's entrance. She held a bouquet of crimson roses and a small gift box wrapped in shimmering gold paper—a surprise for her boyfriend.

Y/N had been planning this visit for weeks. Despite Timothée's hectic schedule, they had always made time for each other, but the holiday season had kept him busier than usual. She missed him terribly, and when she'd learned that his latest project had him working late even this close to Christmas, she couldn't resist showing up unannounced to make him smile.

The security guard at the entrance let her in after she explained who she was, his tone warm as he wished her a Merry Christmas. Excitement bubbled in her chest as she made her way through the maze of equipment and cables, searching for Timothée.

It didn't take long to spot him. His unmistakable frame stood near the center of the set, just off-camera. Y/N's heart swelled as she watched him—his hair tousled perfectly, his face lit up with that electric charisma that had captivated millions, but which she knew was truly hers when they were alone. She hesitated for a moment, wanting to savor the sight of him before revealing herself.

And that's when her world came crashing down.

Timothée leaned forward, his lips meeting those of a striking woman in a fitted red dress. Y/N froze, her breath catching painfully in her throat. The woman's arms draped effortlessly over his shoulders, and they kissed as though the rest of the world didn't exist. The bouquet slipped slightly in her grip, her fingers trembling.

She knew Timothée was an actor, that kissing scenes were part of the job. But this wasn't in front of the cameras. They were off to the side, out of view of the main setup. Her chest tightened as the painful thought lodged itself in her mind: What if this wasn't acting? What if I'm not enough for him anymore?

The first hot tear spilled down her cheek before she even realized it. Her feet carried her backward, away from the set, until she found herself outside in the cold. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, dusting the pavement. The December air bit at her skin, but she barely noticed, too wrapped up in the storm of emotions raging inside her. She sank onto a nearby bench, still clutching the roses and gift, as silent sobs wracked her body.

__

Inside, Timothée had just wrapped up a rehearsal with his co-star, Clara Paget. The director had asked them to run through their kiss one more time to perfect the angle and chemistry for the upcoming scene. They'd obliged, stepping aside to avoid holding up the crew. It had been professional, nothing more—a fact that seemed obvious to everyone on set.

"Nice work, you two," the cameraman said as he adjusted a lens. "Timothée, you're good to go for ten minutes if you want to grab a coffee."

"Thanks, man," Timothée replied, running a hand through his hair. He was about to head toward the craft services table when the cameraman stopped him.

"Oh, by the way," the man added, "I think your girlfriend's outside. I saw her heading out a minute ago."

Timothée's heart skipped a beat. "Y/N's here?" he asked, a smile breaking across his face.

The cameraman nodded. "Yeah, but she didn't look too happy. She was crying."

Timothée felt his stomach drop. Without another word, he turned and rushed toward the exit, his thoughts racing. Why would she be crying? His chest tightened at the idea of her being upset. Y/N was the most important person in his life, and seeing her in pain—especially during the holidays—was unbearable.

Outside, Y/N shivered as she tried to steady her breathing. She stared at the bouquet in her lap, the deep red of the roses now blurred through her tears. She'd wanted this to be a moment of joy, of reunion and celebration. Instead, she felt like a fool.

"Y/N?" Timothée's voice called out, breathless and worried.

She stiffened but didn't look up. She couldn't face him, not with her emotions so raw. Footsteps crunched in the snow, growing louder until he was standing in front of her.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, crouching down to meet her eye level. His voice was laced with concern, his brows knit together as he searched her face for an answer.

Y/N shook her head, brushing away her tears with a gloved hand. "It's nothing. Just go back inside. I shouldn't have come."

Timothée frowned. "What are you talking about? I'm so glad you're here. But you're crying, and it's freezing out here. Please tell me what's going on."

Her resolve cracked under the tenderness in his tone. She met his gaze, her voice trembling as she said, "I saw you. Inside. With her."

Timothée blinked, momentarily confused. "Saw me with who?"

"With her," she repeated, her voice breaking. "That woman in the red dress. You were kissing her."

Realization dawned on his face, followed quickly by a look of horror. "Oh, Y/N. No, no, no. You've got it all wrong."

She looked away, her shoulders hunched. "I was trying to surprise you, you know? For Christmas. But it's obvious you don't want me anymore."

"Hey," he said firmly, reaching out to gently cup her face, forcing her to look at him. "That wasn't what you think it was. That's Clara Paget—my co-star. We were rehearsing for a scene. The director wanted us to run through it off-camera before we filmed. That's all it was. I swear."

Y/N searched his eyes, her tears threatening to spill over again. "You're not lying to me?"

"Of course not," he said, his voice soft but insistent. "Y/N, you're the only person I want. Always. That kiss meant nothing—it's just part of the job. But you? You mean everything to me."

His words settled over her like a warm blanket, melting away some of the hurt. She wanted to believe him—needed to believe him. And as she looked into his eyes, so full of sincerity, she felt the first flicker of relief.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I should've known. I just... I didn't think."

"Don't apologize," he said, pulling her into a tight hug. "I get it. If I saw you kissing someone, I'd probably lose my mind, too." He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there. "But you've got nothing to worry about, okay? You're my girl."

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, leaning into his embrace. "I feel so stupid."

"You're not stupid," he assured her. "You're just someone who loves me enough to show up on set with flowers and a gift. Speaking of which..." He glanced at the items in her lap, his smile returning. "What's this?"

She blushed, handing him the bouquet. "Merry Christmas. I thought you could use some holiday cheer."

Timothée took the flowers, his grin widening. "They're beautiful. Thank you." He then gestured to the gift box. "And what's in here?"

"Open it later," she said, her cheeks still pink. "You've got a scene to shoot."

"Not yet," he said, leaning closer. "I've got a few minutes. And I think I owe you something first."

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers, soft and insistent. The kiss was warm, tender, and full of the love she'd doubted just moments ago. Y/N melted into him, her hands tangling in his coat as the world around them disappeared. For those precious moments, it was just the two of them, snow falling quietly as their love reaffirmed itself.

When they finally broke apart, Timothée rested his forehead against hers, his breath visible in the chilly air. "Better?" he asked, his voice teasing but affectionate.

"Better," she admitted, her lips curving into a smile.

"I really do have to get back now," he said reluctantly, his hand brushing a stray tear from her cheek. "But thank you for coming. This is the best Christmas surprise I could've asked for."

She handed him the gift, her heart lighter than it had been all evening. "Merry Christmas, Timothée."

"Merry Christmas, Y/N," he said, stealing one last kiss before he headed back inside.