#zeffirelli timothee chalamet

[chalamet-chalamet]

Timothée as Zeffirelli in The French Dispatch (2021)

[starlightsuffered]

Best Friend’s Brother

Info - mention of drinking, jealousy, guilt, best friends brother

Zimra and I were best friends. We’d been friends since our ninth grade year and now we were in eleventh. Zimra’s older brother Zeffirelli was a year above us.

I supposed I’d always found Zeffirelli cute. I liked his passion, his wild hair, and piercing eyes. He had the most creative ideas. He loved chess and his cigarettes. I found his speeches interesting when they were usually called long winded.

I’d had a small crush on him for a bit now. The past couple months he and I had gotten closer. I’d joined the chess club and Zimra had been having parties more often. This meant that I was over much more often. I felt jealous of Juliette, who seemed to be his main rival. He was always just kind to me.

I wondered what kindness meant from a boy like him. Surely, he was the type to desire intrigue, competition, or a chase. He was likely the type who wanted to convince a girl to be his. He would probably love to sway a mind.

Last night I’d stayed the night with Zimra. She had been stood up for a date. I’d brought over some alcohol I’d pinched from my older sister. We’d attempted to do a spa night and relax to make her feel better. Unfortunately, Zimra, feeling depressed, had snuck extra drinks. She’d gotten wasted pretty fast since she was slight like her brother.

I’d rubbed her back while she’d puked in the toilet. I’d made sure she got to bed alright. She was turned on her side so she wouldn’t choke. Her sound machine made the sounds of a thunderstorm. I also made sure water and pain killers were placed on her bedside table.

I wandered downstairs to get some food in the morning. Zimra’s mother was out of town. I was surprised to catch Zeffirelli making some pancakes,

“Is Z coming down?” He asked. I shook my head and yawned. I sat on the stool by the kitchen bar. I laid my head down in exhaustion.

“Would you like some breakfast?” Zeffirelli said next.

“Really?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes,” I said gratefully.

“Alright then,” he grinned. He flipped the pancakes and whistled a tune I didn’t know. I enjoyed watching him cook. He moved fluidly. He was so elegant, all long limbs, wild hair, and soft skin.

“I have to tell you something,” she said slowly as he slid the blueberry pancake onto the plate. He pushed the meal towards me. He also handed over the syrup once he was done with it.

“Yes?” I asked. I felt silly as I tried to cut my pancake elegantly. I didn’t even know what that even would entail.

“I-I am doing this new thing where I always tell the truth. I also am apologising to those I feel deserve it,” he explained awkwardly.

I took a bite of his delicious breakfast. It was savoury and sweet and nearly melted in my mouth. He let out a long sigh before I could compliment his abilities.

“I, well, y/n,” he started. He ran a hand through his messy hair. I kept my eyes on him and waited.

“I have had a crush on you for quite a long time. I think you are just the sweetest thing in the world. I know it’s so bad, because you are my little sister’s best friend-“

“I have a crush on you too,” I blurted.

“Wait really?” He asked giddily. He looked at me with the goofiest and most adorable smile I’d ever seen. Then it fell dramatically.

“No, I shouldn’t be happy.”

“You can be happy,” I smirked and leaned across the island. I let my shirt collar ride low. I enjoyed when his eyes flickered down and he gulped.

“It, it isn’t right,” he stuttered.

“Come on Zeffirelli,” I crooned.

“Come on what?”

“Come here,” I coaxed. He moved as if he was out of control of his body. He was soon nose to nose with me.

He leaned forward and pecked my lips experimentally. He looked fiercely dreamy. He touched his lips as if I’d blessed them. I giggled. His gaze snapped to me when I did and he melted.

“I want to do that again so fucking badly,” he swore under his breath.

“Alright then love bug,” I replied. I yanked him to me by the leather jacket he wore. It was ridiculous to wear inside but I loved it all the same. I pressed my lips firmly to his. Our mouthes slotted together perfectly. His large hands moved to cup my face. I felt goosebumps all over. Every time he tried to pull away, I drew him back in. He would make a small adorable noise, and accept my affections.

I was drunk on his lips. My heart was pounding like a drum. My body thrummed with excitement. Everything inside me was on fire with delight. I loved this more than I could express.

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Zimra’s voice screeched from the bottom of the stairs. We jumped apart as though electrocuted. We were both hot with guilt and embarrassment.

“I told you,” Zeffirelli murmured.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming

[escapismthroughfilm]

#118

[gwiyeounsonyeon]

May Writing Challenge Day 16!

Pairing: Zeffirelli x Male Reader Summary: You and Zeffirelli share a few kisses Words: 629/200 Warnings: You burn yourself Notes: were getting into the nitty gritty with this one

☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The sharp sound of the curtain being pulled open is loud in the quiet bathroom but Zeffirelli’s yelp is louder. You raise your brow at him; naked, smoking, and scribbling in his notebook. “What in the hell are you doing now?” The amusement in your voice is undisguisable and he gawks at you. “You’re in my bathroom.” He says indignantly, you tilt your head, unable to fight the smile slowly creeping up on your face, “Yes?” It shouldn't have been a question but your tone pitches anyway, the movement of his adams apple draws the attention of your eyes, then your gaze drops only to dart back to his face. “... While I’m in the bath?” Color rises to his face when he catches your wondering gaze, “It seems you are.” You say simply, you shift your weight to the other foot, the movement rattling the curtains. 

“While I’m naked” His voice had pitched up slightly either out of nervousness or embarrassment, “I’d hope so.” That came out so wrong, both your faces go bright red. He gestures with his cigarette held between his fingers. “Close the–” You dont give him time to finish before jerking the curtain closed. Once shielded from view you let out a unanimous breath of relief. You slide down to sit on the floor, leant against the side of the tub staring off at the far wall trying hard not to think about Zeffirelli, or his… 

You huff frustrated at the flush on your face and your stubborn wondering thoughts and you stick your two fingers through the crack of the curtain. It only takes a moment of hesitation before Zeffirelli is gently placing his cigarette between your fingers, the flush on your face darkens as his fingers brush against yours and you find yourself pulling the cigarette back too soon and nearly dropping it. You dont, saving it by catching the smoldering tip in your hand, you hiss and Zeffirelli pulls back the curtain to see what happened. He plucks the cigarette out of your hand and places it between your lips, he drops his notebook and pen on the floor to pick up your hand to inspect the damage. “Why’d you do that.” You roll your eyes and blow smoke in his face, pinching the cigarette between the two fingers of your other hand carefully. 

“You say it like I did that on purpose.” – “Didn't you?” – “Absolutely not?” He eyes you, squinting slightly. “You dont sound sure.” You roll your eyes again, “Why would I burn myself on purpose?” – “To get my attention.” You look at him quizzically. “And… Why do I want your attention?” He watches you for a moment, you try your best to hold eye contact, swallowing the buildup of saliva that's gathered in your mouth at the pictures your awful brain is putting in your head. It becomes too much and before you can catch yourself, your eyes glance down to his lips, just for a second but he still sees it. “That.” – “That, what?” You respond entirely too fast but before you can start criticizing yourself about how stupid you must seem Zeffirelli leans forward and chastely pecks you on the lips. 

He pulls back entirely too soon, he kisses you entirely too soon and for a few long seconds, you’re both left staring at each other in shock. You swallow before leaning in again but he has the same idea and when you meet in another kiss your teeth click painfully, drawing you apart once more. You let out a choked sort of chuckle and bring the cigarette to your lips, your hands shaking anxiously, “I’m writing my manifesto.” His voice is too shaky, too hoarse but the distraction is good enough, “Let me read it?” – “Absolutely.”

[otrtbs]

top 5 Timothee Chalamet roles!!

Kyle Schieble from Ladybird (he can lie 2 me! gaslight me! manipulate me!) he plays bass and rolls his own cigs what more could u want in a man?

2. Theodore Laurie Laurence (he is everything to me!! to me!!) his one flaw is sister hopping but i'll overlook it.

3. Zeffirelli. French manifesto writing poet. i don't need to say anything more.

4. Paul Atreides!! He looked too good in this entire movie. I went and saw it in theaters twice just for him !

5. And where would any of us be without Elio Perlman? of course he's on the list hahaha

[growup-thatbeautiful]

I feel like you have a Zeffirelli marriage theme going that started with a proposal & now I wanna request a hc for a honeymoon with him. Thank you so much bestie 💖❤️💗

there’s definitely a theme going on lolll

Zeffirelli’s Honeymoon

(why does that sound like a bad comedy movie)

i don’t really think he would want to go somewhere super crowded, and he wouldn’t want to go to the beach because i feel like he doesn’t like the water that much

somewhere secluded and romantic

romance is definitely the main thing he would look for

but also scenery

a place that i specifically know of that has both is Verona, Italy

just hear me out. a) it has a really pretty town b) there ar every nice places to stay that overlook said town on a vineyard or land c) ROMEO AND JULIET (aaand my obsession with R&J comes out at last. feels good)

there’s urban and country options there and you decide to do both of course

you start in the city, seeing all the romantic spots

he insists that you take a picture with Juliet’s balcony

and you get to watch the nighttime lights from a very expensive hotel rooftop where they have anything you could want

then you go into the country. there are homemade meals, endless walking paths, and not very many people!

his love struck side really gets to show there because he can do all the pda in the world and not bother a single soul

you lay out in the grass together on a hill overlooking the city and talk for hours

and you do more than talk

as it’s your job to be helplessly in love with each other, you also climb trees (that zeffirelli gets stuck in), try cooking together (you burn the cookies), and make out in every corner (you get caught so many times)

it would be altogether a fairly calm honeymoon because you really just want to be with each other and bask in the fact that !you’re married to the most wonderful man ever!

taglist loves: @shawnieeboyy @timmyslover

[drownersicons]

[smokeinmotion]

[mondlevan]

the french dispatch headers

“♡” or reblog if you save/use — follow me.

twt: @szamofada

[editschalamet]

like or reblog; please don’t repost without credits.

[chalamet-chalamet]

9/19/2023-Happy Birthday Stephane! ✨🎂✨

[starlightsuffered]

We’re Under the Same Moon

Info - potential love bombing, unrequited love, some mentions of sex, using quotes, exchange student Zeffirelli

I knew he wasn’t interested in me now. He was off in France. Our whirlwind romance in America hadn’t meant as much as I’d hoped and prayed.

Zeffirelli was a French heart throb. He’d come over to America for a study abroad program. Though I was in art classes and he in politics, we’d favoured the same study area in the library.

The connection had been instant. We’d had sex on the third day we’d met. It was hushed and quick, up against the book stacks.

He was adoring, giving me all his attention. He even confessed he couldn’t focus on his studies. He began calling me “ Mon Immortel bien-aimé” as he thrust into me. I was flushed with chills and possessed with smiles. I had always said of myself that I desired violently. I had been waiting for a love like this. Everything had slotted into place so perfectly.

I felt so foolish when I had cried the whole night before his flight. In the morning I’d gotten up early. I had done my hair and perfected my makeup and outfit. I had bounced up to him to say goodbye. I had such same high hopes. I was positive he’d say yes.

I had been planning to ask him to be my boyfriend. This was such a beautiful love story. Two people from different places falling desperately in love. I had a smile on my face as I’d come up to him. He dipped me and kissed me. I’d come up giggling.

“Of Zeffirelli, I’m so glad we met,” I’d said.

“I am too darling,” he’d purred. I’d felt myself melt completely.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you as well.”

“I wanted to ask you to be my boyfriend,” I’d looked at him with a beaming smile. His face had fallen.

After that he’d explained to me he was never looking for a relationship. He was much to focused on his future career. He agreed that we could be friends but he had never felt deeply for me. I’d felt my fairytale shatter.

I knew I was supposed to get over it quickly. All my friends told me it had only been a few months. I felt differently. I had finally felt like what I had to give had been appreciated. I hadn’t felt dumb for moving quickly and falling fast because it had seemed like he was as well.

All these many months later I still felt down. I felt like my one chance at that magical moment was gone, wasted on someone who didn’t feel the same about me.

I was even foolish enough to still write him letters. I never sent them. I wasn’t that pathetic. Sometimes I dreamed I got drunk and sent them to him, and then he wrote me back saying he’d made a huge mistake.

“dear dear

my most distant love—

when i dream of you i wake in a field so blue i drown.”

I rubbed my arms. I wasn’t cold, just lonely. I’d been trying to sleep for hours. I’d tried sounds of the ocean, an audio book, and music. Every time my mind kept wandering to our kisses, his mumbled words into my skin, the last look on his face. Even though my eyes were closed in an effort to sleep, tears kept welling.

I was finally, wondering what I could do or use to get to sleep and stop thinking. I just wanted to sleep. I wanted the racing thoughts to stop. I missed his hands and his laugh and his attention. I missed his smile and hearing his opinion. I missed and missed and missed.

Were under the same moon and I'm sick with that knowing.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming

[larspinfields]

The French Dispatch (Wes Anderson, 2021)

[tchalamet79]

Zeffirelli & Juliette 🔥

"The French Dispatch" 📽️🎞️🍿

[lovelyrocker]

I Mean!

[growup-thatbeautiful]

Can we get some headcanons about Zeffirelli's wedding, please?🥺

you may, lovely <33333 (ooooh featuring my poetry for the first (??) time. i’m tricking y���all into reading it ha

Zeffirelli’s wedding

my very first thought was FLOWERS

then i thought of winter weddings and how poetic that would be

he would do whatever you want, and you would do whatever he wants

so you chose to get married just as fast as you can and still make it as perfect as you can

it ends up being a winter wedding anyway because that time works out the best

so dried flowers! those are so pretty too and super poetic

you’ve kept all the flowers he’s given you on dates and have them drying out in a closet just in case

and now you have something to do with them. so, you spend a day with dried flowers and newspapers strewn across the floor, zeffirelli sitting back as you create yourself a bouquet

what was this about again? oh yeah, a wedding

anyway, it’s a winter wedding

you have the ceremony inside because it’s freezing, but take some pictures outside

the snow stands out against his suit and it falls into you hair. they’re your favorite pictures of the two of you and they reside on your bedside table

the ceremony itself is fairly small and held somewhere sentimental to the two of you

it’s decorated simply with draping fabrics and candles, intimate and charmingly subtle

you’re wearing a wedding dress that makes you feel like a princess, makes you feel absolutely stunning

his mother insisted that you follow the “something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue” rule

you have a veil and a pearled headpiece that was your mothers for something borrowed

your something new is the dress itself

something blue is a sapphire necklace Zeffirelli gave you for your first year anniversary

and something old is his engagement ring, a family ring that he proposed to you with

his family, your family, and close friends are pretty much the only ones in attendance

which means that you get to read the vows you wrote for him and the ones he wrote for you in front of the people who care most about you

dried petals on the trail of your dress, you go first. “zeffirelli, my heart, i cannot imagine anything more important to me than you are. in this moment and so many like it, you have taken every thought in my head and turned it into something warm and something that feels more like home than i can ever remember. not since i was a little kid have i been able to appreciate my existence as i do when i’m with you. i want to be with you forever, and when that ends i’ll keep searching, a lost soul in the darkness, because i’ll know that your light will always find its way home to me.”

then his vows. “lapine, i am convinced that the moment i met you, i finally knew what the rest of my life would look like. i know that you’ll be there in the end, smiling that smile of yours and taking my hand into your own. i have visions of us laughing and crying, dancing and fighting. i knew when i saw you that i had to do everything in my power to make these things come true, the good and the bad. luckily for me, you felt the same way. mon amour, i cannot wait to see what the future holds for us.”

“maybe i’m just a shitty writer

with to many dreams of things that won’t ever happen,

and hopes of places i won’t see,

places i can’t see.

but even if i am just a shitty writer,

you still read my shit,

and tell me that it’s good,

and tell me to keep going,

to write more.

i keep the journal besides my bed,

where i write ideas that i come up with,

in the middle of the night,

so i can write about them tomorrow.

i don’t know what’s going to happen to me,

i don’t know who i’ll

(inevitably)

fall in love with,

if they’ll be nice to me,

if there will be passion,

if i’ll even like being around them,

but i know i’ll write about it,

and i’ll keep the words in my mind,

waiting for a chance to show you.

maybe i’ll end up famous,

for the words i weave,

and the thoughts i create,

and maybe people will know my name,

but whatever happens,

i’ll still send you my shitty poems.

just so i can hear you say you like it.”

“i wrote this poem the day we met. i knew i would fall in love with you. i already had. you support me and hold me up when i can’t do the same for myself. somehow, you’re exactly what i’ve always needed. i love you.“

then you would get the rings from their place tied to the ribbon on your flower bouquet and skip them on each other’s fingers

“you may kiss the bride.”

“i’ve waited my whole life to hear that,” zeffirelli says. and then kisses you.

his smile when you pull apart is absolutely radiant and completely contagious