𝐎𝐔𝐈, 𝐂'𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐈 | timothée chalamet imagines

𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙠𝙚

SOULS
1. the principle of life, feeling, thought, and action in humans, regarded as a distinct entity separate from the body, and commonly held to be separable in existence from the body; the spiritual part of humans as distinct from the physical part
2. the spiritual part of humans regarded in its moral aspect, or as believed to survive death and be subject to happiness or misery in a life to come
3. the emotional part of human nature; the seat of the feelings or sentiments

it was a sunny summer afternoon. the sun was already but the birds were still chirping and the sky still clear. a soft breeze made the flowers and the grass dance, happily and delicately, to its melody.

we were both on a towel. swimsuits on, wet hairs and glowing skins that reflected the water drops in our sunkissed bodies. he'd planned a day by the lake. a day I've always wanted to live.  he even bought strawberries, even cared enough to make my favourite desserts.

he was reading to me my favourite poem and I was laying on his lap. he was petting my hair and I was thinking how lucky I was to find someone like him.

he finished his reading and we stayed there, looking at the horizon until hunger took over me so I got up to get a strawberry. I made sure he was looking at me and bit it, clearly teasing him. his face immediately changed.

'putain de merde Y/N. si seulemet tu savais ce que je pense...'

my lips soon enough turned into an angry pout.

'it's not fair when you speak in french... and you know it...'

a wide smirk was planted on his face, ready and steady to mock me.

'what did you say?' i asked anyway

'je ne sais pas'

'oh for fuck sake, fuck off - timothée!'

he sat me back down by my wrist.

'alright alright, I'll teach you some, what you think?

'i smilled, and he smilled back.

'okay let's say you wanna say' he began, eyes focused on mine. I love it when he looks at me like that. it's breathtaking, honesty. he - is breathtaking «Timmy is the most handsome man I've ever laid my eyes on»' 'you say «Timmy est le plus bel homme que j'ai posé mes yeux dessu»'

I rolled my eyes. cocky motherfucker... I tried to say it. tried and failed miserably. it took me a good amount of tries to pronounce it correctly, no, not «correctly» - perfectly. he insisted on it.

'you have to take me to France one day...' i told him, thinking my 5 minutes lesson would make me able to survive in France.

'no I won't!' he replied as quick as a blink 'you'll say «croassant» instead of «crrrrrroissant», like an uncultured american

'bitch, no I won't! I'm not even american!'

(a/n: love yall my fellow americans but some of you are very uncultured, or maybe europe is too intellectual, oh well)

'but you live there-'

'so do you stoopid asshole!'

'true but' he lifted his index finger, like when we used to do at school, except that he only wants to taunt me

'i have the accent - chérie'

'oh fuck you and your accent! oh, no, pardon me - monsieur, I should have said «va te faire foutre»' i gave him a dry smile, looked away and kept insulting him 'i'll go to France myself! need no man!'

'well...' i felt his slender fingers threading through my wrist up to my neck 'im - your man...'

red. I became red. his touch. his eyes. is words. him. too much. too much for me.

meanwhile, he held my face with the sweetest and most careful way, like he was holding a defenceless baby, and with his gaze pierced on mine, he mouthed 'je time ma petite fraise'

I smiled, softly 'i love you too'

he gave me the look.

'oui, je t'aime aussi'

he clapped his hands. the mf made me feel «french».

'see my french ain't that bad... it just needs a lil bit of ✨🤌spice🤌✨'

'i'll give you the ✨🤌spice 🤌✨miss'

we laughed, kissed, kept ourselves on the towel and connected our souls.

had a real nice time writing this story tbh!!
also pls vote on this story so I can reach more people! thanks for all the support <3
rits <3