WAR | Timothée Chalamet

11 | Take Things Slow

Hey ya'll! So I always find it tough writing these kinds of chapters because my brain starts to short-circuit, so I asked my amazing friend ew_n0pee to help write the parts where things got spicy. 

It's nothing mature, don't worry, they don't do anything nastay, just thought I'd give a heads up :)

Their writing will be noted with a  ⁕⚘ symbol.

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Y/N

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I followed Timothée down the hallway, my shoes clacking softly against the ground as I walked. His steps were steady and determined, gifting me some stability as I followed him down an unfamiliar hallway I hadn't dared step into before.

Every now and then he would turn around to see if I was still there, and then keep on walking. Soon we reached a small passageway that was covered with a small blockade of guards. He waved them off, making way for us to stop in front of a tall mahogany door. He glanced at me again, before pressing his hands against the wood and pushing it open.

The door opened with a creak, and I stepped inside to what I assumed was his bedroom. I entered his room, seeing it for the first time. It was almost completely bare, with the exception of a well made bed, and a few tapestries. The large stained-glass windows were open, the night air billowing through the silk curtains.

"This is your room?" I muttered under my breath.

"Do you not like it?"

"It's beautiful," I answered, stepping towards the center of the room.

I wasn't lying, I did find the room beautiful based off of its luxuries. It just seemed so lifeless. There wasn't an ounce of childhood tucked into the walls, making me wonder what the boy's life was like growing up. Another shift of wind toppled through the window, a cold breeze dancing against my skin.

⁕⚘ The cold did not register until I felt his presence behind me, having just closed the door behind us. I hesitantly turned over my shoulder, not knowing what I expected to see.

"What did you need to talk to me about?" I asked, watching him stride across the room towards me.

"Nothing of importance."

"You know it's bad luck to see a bride on her wedding night," I sighed, "that should be of importance to you."

"No, no, no," He shook his head, his curls bouncing wildly around, "I don't care about that."

"Then why am I here?"

"I need you," he muttered, "I just need you."

⁕⚘ Before I could even think of a response, my lips met the corner of his mouth, the heat of his breath running against my skin. My body instinctively turned around to realign my lips with his. I inhaled into the kiss, the thickness of the air filling my lungs. My arms instinctively looped around his waist, pulling him flush against me, as he pressed me towards the bed behind us.

⁕⚘The kiss was desperate, cutting through the layers of tension that had built up around us. We fit together so right. His hands moved down from my face, and I deepened the kiss, swiping my tongue against his soft lips.

The next thing I knew, he was hovering over me, pinning my arms against the mattress. As he made his way towards my neck, I stared up at the ceiling, my eyes blurred dizzily.

Something didn't feel right about this. No, Timothée felt right, the moment didn't. My breath hitching, I tugged at the back of his hair, whispering for him to stop. He lifted his head, his eyes glazed over with worry.

"Are you okay?" he muttered, "is something wrong?"

"No, Timothée, nothing's wrong."

"Did I hurt you?"

I shook my head, sitting up from where I had been held down. There was no use hiding my feelings from him, since we'd be bound by a wedding band in the morning, so I exhaled a breath into the room.

"I know things have been so rushed," I explained, "especially getting married, but I still feel like we should take things slow."

"Do you not want to marry anymore?"

"I do, I really do want to marry you" I sighed. "I just feel like even though everything is going so fast, our relationship doesn't have to be."

He nodded, his eyes flickering to the ground as he thought. I could tell he understood, so I slid off the bed and started to make my way towards the door. It was late, so it was better to be off to sleep.

As my fingers reached for the door handle, I heard him call my name out softly. I turned around to see him staring at me, his figure silhouetted by the moonlight streaming in from the window.

"Stay," he pleaded, "please."

I nodded, retracing my steps back to where he was sitting. We would share this room everyday after tomorrow, so there was no harm in staying today. I climbed in next to him, tucking myself into the satin sheets.

"Goodnight Timothée," I whispered, closing my eyes.

"Goodnight, mon amour."

Although I couldn't see his face, I could almost sense him smiling in the darkness.

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sorry but I LOVE them u can't change my mind