Timothèe Chalamet Imagines

✵cherry✵

I forget that he's tired too. He works such long and sporadic hours with constantly changing breaks. He can never rely on solid sleep. I run my fingers through his hair, tucking his curls behind his ears and lightly scratching my fingers through the tangles. He grins at this, eyes still closed, and I know how much he loves when I do this. So we sit here for a while, his head in my lap, my fingers in his hair, until I get uncomfortable again.

"Tim... can I, like, lay down?" I whisper. Even my whisper is loud. I didn't realize how peacefully quiet it was.

He jolts his head up.

"Oh my god - yeah, I'm so sorry, yeah," he instantly moves off of me and I gratefully move my head down, laying on the couch.

"Should we have some macaroons?" he asks, eying the bag.

"Absolutely."

So we open the macaroons, delving into their sweetness and giving ourselves stomach aches before dinner. We watch a random show about people picking their dream beach houses and just lay there for a while. My legs rest on Timothèe's lap, and he lightly drums his fingers over my skin.

"Can you pass me the cherry one?" I ask Timothèe, not willing to sit up and grab it myself. I was right. Now cherry sounds better than ever.

He bends forward slightly to peer into the box.

"Um... it doesn't look like there's a cherry one in here," he says innocently.

"What?"

"Yeah, no. But I think this yellow one might be lemon - what?" he asks, when he looks back at me.

I bite my lip as I try to push down the disappointment, and he must see the crushed look on my face. I know I asked her for a cherry one, and I swear I watched her put it in.

There is a moment of silence.

"Well did you eat it?" I ask him accusingly. My voice is watery. I wanted that cherry macaroon so badly. Nothing sounds better to me right now.

He raises his eyebrows at me and sits back on the couch.

"No, I didn't eat it," he responds. He's watching me like I'm the most confusing thing he's ever seen.

"Well... but... but I wanted the ch-cherry one," I start crying. This is the worst thing ever. I've gone this whole pregnancy with all of this pain and all of these emotions and all that I want right now is a cherry flavored macaroon. Is that too much to ask for?

"Y/n... it's gonna be fine. Look, there are other flavors here. Do you want lemon?" he asks. He's rubbing my leg softly to try and comfort me, but to no avail. I only start crying harder.

"N-no. I d-don't think the baby will like that. You know she can taste it too in there, kind of! And she has opinions too!" I wail. I don't care if I sound like a pathetic, emotional disaster. I want that cherry macaroon and I know that she does too.

I cover my face with my hands and sob even harder, still laying on the couch. My tears stream down the side of my face awkwardly and I can't help but sniffle disgustingly. I peek through my fingers when Timothèe doesn't say anything.

One hand is in a fist over his mouth, and... is he...

"Are you... laughing?" I ask through my tears, awestruck.

"Uh... no. No, sorry. No," he says, bringing his hand down to is lap and pursing his lips together.

I sit up against the armrest of the couch, my crying altered by this.

"Yes you are! You're laughing at me! But I j-just wanted a cherry m-macaroon!" I start sobbing again, burying my head in my hands once more.

"Y/n, no. I'm sorry." He slides out from under my legs and walks around to my side of the couch. He wraps his arms around me, (rather awkwardly), from behind and kisses the top of my head lightly.

"I'm sorry you didn't get your cherry macaroon," he whispers in my ear.

I pull my hands down from my face, sniffling.

"It's... it's okay, I g-guess," I say pathetically.

"How about you go upstairs and take a bath and I'll run back and get one for you?" he asks me gently. I can't see his face because he's still hugging me from behind, but I'm pretty sure he's not laughing anymore. His chin lightly touches my shoulder as he talks, and his curls tickle the side of my face.

"Okay." I say quietly. He unwraps his arms and walks around next to me. I take his hand as he lifts me off of the couch and helps me up.

After helping me up the stairs, he runs the bath for me while I change out of my uncomfortable, tight clothes and into a fluffy bathrobe.

When I get into the steamy bathroom, he's leaning over the edge and checking the temperature of the water. It smells like lavender, and I see the bath salt on the counter. He must have dumped some in. There's also a big, fluffy towel sitting on the counter, and he's even lit a candle for me.

"Ohhhh," I start to wail again. He whips around and stands up straight as I start crying again.

"What's wrong?" he asks, concern flitting over his features.

"You're... you're too g-good for me!" I whine through tears. I see a flicker of a smile on his face, but he shuts it down quickly, realizing that laughing at me was not a good decision last time. He walks over to me and wraps his arms around me once again, hugging me tightly.

"That's just straight up not true," he says into my ear. But it is true. He's done everything for me. He's getting me another macaroon. Walking all the way down there even though it's dinner time, and we should be eating, and he's probably hungry even though I'm not, because honestly I'm a little nauseous and I ate to many macaroons, and I don't even know how good a cherry once sounds anyway. And maybe I am being ridiculous about this one cherry macaroon - no. I'm definitely not being ridiculous.

He rubs his hands over my back.

"It's okay. You don't have to cry." His voice soothes me, and after another thirty seconds, my sobbing subsides into the occasional sniffle.

"Does a bath sound good?" He asks. I nod over his shoulder, and he feels the movement.

"Okay. Here." He pulls back and unties my robe, hanging it up on our towel hook. He leans down and presses a light kiss to the baby. This sweet gesture almost makes me start sobbing again, but for once I'm able to contain it. He carefully helps me into the bath, holding my hand the whole time so that I don't slip.

I welcome the warmth on my sore body. The lavender seems to soften my muscles instantly.

When I'm completely in, resting my head back and closing my eyes, he presses a final kiss to my temple.

"Okay. I'll be back soon. I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too," I reply. My voice sounds weak and pathetic. But I've been through a lot in the last thirty minutes, not getting my macaroon and all, so I give myself a break for that.

I relax into the warm water and wait for Timothèe to come home, distracting myself with imagining the day when our daughter finally comes and all of this is over.

I'm so nervous that when I leave for college I won't have enough time to write and all of you will lose interest
:((( I DO NOT WRITE for the reads but I hope that I can still connect with all of you and I'm worried that I'll loose this amazing sense of community. I want to take you along on this journey of moving across the freaking country!!! I'll try to write a ton of stuff in the next month so that I can post evenly in August and September. anyway that's kinda pointless but I love you all sososososo much!!!

ALSO GO READ chalabitches imagines because they're so good and she's so sweet and she's helped me through so much. ok I hope you're having a beautiful day/night/morning. <33333