Timothee Chalamet Smile Novels & Stories

“Not just talking. You were smiling.” I paused for half a second. Damn Marcus and his semi functioning memory. Tariq dropped his fork like it was breaking news. “Smiling? Like actually smiling? Not the polite one or the fake public one, but the real kind?” “I smile all the time,” I muttered. “False,” Rafeal said. “You smirk, you glower, you look vaguely constipated sometimes, but smiling? That’s rare, my guy.” Tariq barked a laugh. “So who was she?”

“Never going to be me.” He chuckled, and his gaze subtly darted to Sloane at the exact same time her eyes settled down on him. Levi turned to me, still wearing his signature smile. One would think he never frowned. And he was a man that hardly got upset. I don't recall ever seeing him crash out. We could be in a tight mess, wondering how to get out of it and you’ll turn around to find Levi smiling. But it wasn't creepy in any way. He had a natural smile. And was a charmer in many ways.

Flashes from their camera phones came nonstop. “Smile, Sam,” Damian whispered, his lips pressed on her head. “Show your friends that you’re happy. Afterall, isn’t this what you wanted? Big smile, darling.” “Stop mocking me,” she hissed. Damian only chuckled, his fingers caressing her back seductively.

He wouldn’t think twice about a nobody like me. Yet, despite my better judgment, I found myself reaching for my phone. Before I knew it, I was typing his name into the search bar. Articles and a few pictures popped up—his sharp jawline, the confident set of his shoulders, and that intense, piercing gaze that seemed to see right through the camera. He looked every bit the powerful mogul he was rumored to be. But it was his smile in one of the older photos that made my heart stutter—a rare, genuine smile that softened his entire face.

“I’ll stick to my tea.” “Fair enough,” he says, smiling in a way that softens his features and makes him look less like the calm doctor and more like… I can’t find the words. He has a beautiful smile, if I’m being honest. It lights up his face, sharpens the angles of his already-handsome features, and those dimples—God, those dimples—make it almost impossible to look away.

The soldier stared at Cinthye directly, handed her a tablet. Her grip on the tablet tightened. Damien appeared on the screen, alive and smiling. Except it was different, the kind he wore before killing someone. "Little actress, if you're watching this." His smile vanished. "Do not come for me." A gun struck the back of his head, blood splattered across the camera. Someone cursed in the background, Damien was laughing. He actually laughed. He looked at the lens, somehow it felt like he was looking at her. "Cinthye, I love—"

His grip was firm, almost bruising, yet it grounded her. And damn it, she hated how safe it felt. “Smile,” she whispered softly through her clenched teeth, the edge of a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. Roman glanced down at her, stunned for half a heartbeat. “What?” She tilted her chin toward the cameras, eyes glinting. “You’re feeding them what they want. Give them control, they’ll crucify you. Smile, Roman. Show them we’re untouchable.” He hesitated. Then, reluctantly, he did.

The door creaked open slowly as Caleb stepped into the apartment, his body visibly drained, but his face… His face was radiant. A soft smile stretched across his lips, not the smirk he wore when bluffing through a business meeting or the polite curve he gave Adrian or Crystal. No. This was different. This smile held life. Emotion. Hope.

A warm fuzzy feeling fills his heart when he sees her smiling at him, it has been so long since he saw this angelic smile of hers. He thought she would never smile at him again. Still maintaining his smile, he says. “I’m sorry for—well, I don’t have anything to apologise for but if it makes you happy, then I’m sorry.” Leila nods at him, holding a calmness to her demeanour. “When are you going to sign the papers? The games are almost here and I don’t want to go as yours.” Pain and confusion rip through Tatum as the words leave Leila’s lips. He thought her smile was the beginning of things going back to normal.

The guests smiled awkwardly, whispering behind champagne flutes, their curiosity barely masked by politeness. Roman reached for Tessa’s hand. She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t hold on either. Her fingers stayed limp in his grasp. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, close enough to her lips. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft. It was a statement — one meant for the cameras, not her. The flashes exploded again, drowning out the sound of her unsteady breath. When he pulled back, he whispered against her lips, “Smile. They’re watching.”