timothée chalamet requests

☾ request sixteen

your pov

I looked down at the floor, studying the waved lines in the wood and the dots that bruised it.

"I think this is it." Timothée's said. I looked up at him with his hands on his hip and a soft grin on his face.

"Really?" I asked.

His expression dropped. "You don't like it." he sighs, mouth turning down into a slight frown.

I walked around the big, empty living room a bit, the old floors creaking under my steps.

"Well," I began and heard a sigh come out of his mouth again "it's not my favorite one so far, but it's definitely in the top three...I think."

"Y/n, we've seen close to fifteen houses already; and you haven't liked a single one."

I roll my eyes, keeping my back to him. I'm so very indecisive, I knew that picking a place to spend the rest of our lives in wouldn't be easy.

"I'm sorry." I say, closing my eyes from exhaustion of being dissatisfied.

His steps come closer to me. "Don't be." he says, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

We rock back and forth a bit and he kisses the side of my face multiple times.

"If I paint a picture for you, do you think it'll help?" he asks.

"I think so." I smile at his creative idea.

He lets me go and holds my hand, turning us to look at the front door. "I'll probably walk through that door after a long, hard day of work, right?"

"Right." I nod.

"I'll drop my things and hear noise from the kitchen," he says, leading us to it "and there you are!" he says, letting go of my hand.

He walks over to the kitchen island and waves his hands over it. "Dinner's almost ready," he says "we hug, maybe share a little kiss," he winks he walks back over to me.

This kitchen is nice and big, he knows how much I love to cook and surprise him with meals after late nights on set.

"I help you finish up the cooking, change out of my work clothes," he takes my hand and we go to the dining room "we eat here, talk about our days." he smiles.

We back walk to the living room. "After dinner, we'd sit here," he says "on our comfy couch, with the fireplace lit up."

I smile, I am a sucker for a good fireplace and have always wanted one of my own.

"Maybe we'll sip a little wine, play a few of your records? And after a while, we'll get a little handsy." he smirks.

I throw a light punch to his arm, making him chuckle. Leave it to him to make this picture a dirty one after all.

"You know where getting handsy typically leads." he says and we make our way up stairs.

We enter the master bedroom he stands in the center of it as I lean against the doorway.

"The bed will be here," he says, pointing at the wall "side tables on each side. Dresser, mirror." he continues, pointing at where everything would hypothetically go.

He then points at the space next to the window.

"Your vanity would go here," he says "because you like to do your makeup in natural light."

I nod - my boy does know me well. I look around the room, it's spacious, all the furniture we need could fit in here like he's described.

"And then?"

"And then what?" he asks.

"You never finished your story," I said "you just started directing furniture." I laugh.

"Oh!" he says "my story, right; sorry." he smiles.

He clears his throat, waving his hand in a gesture used to present something, right to where our bed would go. "After leaving the couch," he takes my hand "we'd get into bed, get naked," he winks "and then I'd make love to you like our lives truly depended on it; for as long as you want, exactly how you want it," he says.

I giggle, resting my head against his arm; really starting to imagine what our life would be like in this house, or in any for that matter.

"Am I helping you at all?" he asks.

"Yes," I say and he looks down at me, leaning down to kiss me.

He caresses my face in his hands, our lips getting kneaded together. I pull away after he attempts to slip in tongue a short while later.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself on the love making in here yet." I smile and he laughs.

We walk down the hall to a medium sized room.

"This would be nice for guests," I say "get a bed and a dresser or two in here. Your parents could spend the weekend, don't you think?"

"It could work for guests," he nods "or a baby." he says, looking down at the floor.

While we're only looking for a house for just the two of us at the moment, it's spacious enough for a full family. Timothée and I plan on spending the rest of our lives together, no matter where that will be, and we also plan on having a family of our own one day.

I've always known that I want to have children, especially with Timothée. So many people want you to pop out babies the second you settle, and I've never met anymore more advent about doing so than Timothée.

Right after we go married, almost three years ago, he already wanted to start then and there.

But with the both of us just getting accustomed to married life and a new chapter of it overall, I suggested we wait on actively trying.

He agreed and never fully pressed the idea again.

We'd only ever bring it up lightly in conversation, I think we'd come to the mutual decision that the time would just feel right when we could really sit down, talk about it, and eventually start. 

Looking for a house seems like that time, the picture of what our life would look like has truly helped me envision how happy Timothée would be - an additional factor to the fact that there'd be a little baby of ours warms my heart.

"A baby?" I smile, urging him to now paint the picture of what it would be like to have one in this room.

He puts on a wide smile. "The crib would go here," he says, starting to direct furniture again "the changing table here," he races over to the other side of the room with pep in his voice.

He stands in the corner next to where the crib would go. "A rocking chair would go right here," he plants his feet together "we could feed the baby in it, rock them to sleep, sing them every lullaby." he says, never losing his smile.

I walk over to him, taking his hands in mine.

"You really want a baby, don't you?"

He nods. "I really, really, do. Half of you and half of me as a little thing the size of, I don't know, a bread loaf? Who wouldn't want that?"

I laugh, pulling his face to mine for a long and sweet kiss. "Can't you picture it?" he asks, clear hopefulness in his face.

"I can." I nod.

"Really?" he asks, face lighting up.

"Really." He hugs me tightly, kissing me repeatedly.