timothée chalamet imagines

want

timothée's pov

I immediately stopped in my tracks after finally spotting y/n down an aisle.

"What are you doing?" I asked, walking to her.

She turned around with a surprised look on her face. She held her hands behind her back and displaced a nervous grin.

"Just looking around."

"For?" I ask.

"Stuff."

I squinted at her, noticing her strange behavior. I moved my head to see what she was holding behind her back, but she turned her body so I wouldn't be able to.

"What are you holding?" I ask, reaching my hand behind her to grab whatever it is.

She stepped away. "Nothing."

"Show me." I reached for it again.

I chased her around a bit , our footsteps padding against the floor and our laughing filled up the whole aisle - along came a few stares.

Once I held the item in my hand, I chuckled in self-satisfactory after finally getting it. But the stupid grin on my face quickly disappeared.

Y/n looked down at the floor.

"Wh-Why? Why do you have a onesie?" I

I looked around the aisle, leaning in toward her close. "Are you pregnant?" I asked, my voice low and semi-filled with concern.

"No." she replied, snatching the onesie from my hands and threw it into the cart.

"Then why did you grab a onesie?" I ask as she starts pushing the cart down the aisle, and I surely followed her. She doesn't respond.

I step in front of the cart, letting her hit me in the legs with it. "Move." she says.

"Why did you grab a onesie?" I ask again.

"Because I did," she moves the cart to the side and continues pushing it "that's why."

She goes all the way to the register, aligning everything we got on the conveyer belt while I stood behind her.

"We won't be taking this." she says, hand resting on the onesie. The cashier throws it in a bin below the countertop.

All of the items are scanned, y/n pays. I put the bags into our cart and we walk out of the store.

We go to the car and put all the bags in the trunk, getting in after putting the cart away.

"Are you mad?" I ask, reversing out of the parking spot we're in.

She rests her head against the window. "No."

I put the car in drive, heading toward the exit of the parking lot and out toward the street.

Choosing not to make her feel any emotions in the bad side, I cut the conversation and we sit in silence on the drive back home.

About twenty minutes later, we get there. I pull into the driveway and pop open the trunk.

Y/n goes to open the door, leaving it open so we can easily carry things in.

As we come back out for more bags, our neighbors, Celeste and Michael come outside.

They wave 'hi' to us and we wave back. Michael is carrying a car seat with their newborn daughter in it while Celeste has a diaper bag on her.

"How are you guys?" Celeste asks, she and her husband walking over to us.