You Know How Everyone Thinks Timothee Looked Sick/tired During The Dune Event Last Night? Maybe A Fic

You know how everyone thinks Timothee looked sick/tired during the Dune event last night? Maybe a fic where he’d actually not feeling well and has to miss it and he’s extremely bummed but reader wants to him to rest because he’s been working so hard for his next project Marty supreme and it’s taking a lot out of him. Physically and mentally.

Thx ☺️ love you 😘

🥰 I hope you don't mind a slight tweak where he did go to the event but came home wiped out and irritable.

Written from female reader perspective.

Most Meaningful Role

You could sense Timothée's foul mood before he even reached the front door after the Dune 2 Q&A. It was evident in the little things - the speed at which he pulled into the driveway, how hard he shut the car door, the muffled growl when he dropped his keys trying to get inside. If he was a cartoon, you would have seen a little dark storm cloud floating above his head.

IG credit: tchallamett

The aura of the room changed dramatically as he stepped across the threshold. He never even verbally responded to your greeting. Instead, he flopped down on the couch next to you and laid his head on your lap.

You softly gazed down at the boy turned friend turned love of your life, trying to exude calming vibes to counter his ire. You noticed the purple circles ghosting his eyes masked the beautiful constellations of freckles you adored. Out of habit, you extended your hand to play with his hair, but you hesitated ever so slightly due its new shortness before diving into the longer locks at the top.

Timothée noticed, rolled his eyes, and sighed heavily. "I know, I know, my fans don't like it either."

You gently tugged his hair to turn his face toward you. "They don't understand how much you sacrifice for your roles. How much you put your heart and soul - and health - into your craft. I- I'm worried about you."

He scoffed. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You are exhausted all the time. I don't even remember the last time you came home happy. The last time you had the energy to go out on a date or a walk in the park or..."

You were interrupted by a low, exasperated grumble. Timothée sat up quickly and walked away from you to the kitchen island, all but slumping as he leaned with all his weight on outstretched arms on the counter's ledge.

Fed up, you continued. "Remember. I was here, watching you starve yourself for Beautiful Boy. I was here as you went straight from Bones and All to Wonka to Dune 2 to ACU, and now Marty, watching as your poured your energy into your fans and work instead..." you paused, unsure whether you should continue down this path. "Instead of us. I can't believe they still have you doing press for Dune anyway. Isn't it a bit overplayed by now?"

You instantly cringed, knowing you had crossed a line as you saw his shoulders tense, which blunted your surprise as Timothée slammed his hands down onto the cold marble counter with enough force to rattle the silverware in the drawers below. He turned on his heel, insult clearly written on his face.

"Over-? Guess which movies paid for that brand new car of yours in the driveway, huh? Or this house?!" he snapped back heatedly.

"Timmy, I-"

He held up his palm to cut you off. "No! I had to listen to you rant. Now you get to listen. Acting is the ONLY thing I feel a little bit good at. Take that away, and I-" his voice faltered. "I have nothing," he finished quietly.

In the deafening silence that followed, you visibly deflated, shrinking into yourself and hugging your knees on the couch.

"That's - UGH!" Timothée groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face. As you stared down at the plush carpet, you saw him tentatively pad closer in your peripheral vision. He sank to his knees when he reached the couch, looking up to lock eyes with you.

"That is *not* what I meant, Peach," he stated in a much calmer tone. "Without acting, I- I have nothing to offer. To you. The world. This face," he said, pointing to his own, "won't last forever. I have to make the most of it while I still look young."

"You're going to age prematurely if you keep up your current pace," you quipped tersely, breaking his gaze by moving your head to rest your chin on your elbow. "It won't be the end of the world to be typecast into the settled and married dad role, especially if that is what you are."

Your heart was nearly beating out of your chest. This wasn't how you wanted to tell him, but your emotions got the best of you.

Timothée sat back slightly. "I'm not a..."

You could almost hear the gears turning in his head. You shifted to look at him once again, your eyes now bloodshot from holding back tears.

"Dad?" he breathed.

You nodded. "I took a test this morning. Wanted to tell you when you got home."

"Oh. Oh, Peach! That's- I- " Timothée stammered. "You- we- we're going to have a baby?" he repeated with bewildered excitement. He practically launched himself from the floor, throwing his arms around you and peppering your cheeks with kisses while you laughed. He pulled back and held your face in his large hands, gently wiping a stray tear from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

It was heartwarming to see genuine happiness light up his face once again, even if just for a fleeting moment before his eyes fell to the ground. "This should have been a happy occasion, but you are probably going to look back at this moment and just remember me yelling at you. One of the most important moments of your life, OUR lives, and I stole the wind from your sails." Now it was his turn to cry as he rested his forehead on your knees.

You gave him a moment to wallow, using the time to carefully think through what you wanted to say. You carded your fingers through his chocolate locks. "Timmy, you will *have* to slow down and take care of yourself if you are going to play a meaningful role in your child's life and mine. Pun intended. Is- is that still a role you want?"

Timothée moved to rest his chin on your knee so he could look up at you with his red-rimmed puppy eyes. "More than anything."

He pushed himself up from the floor to sit beside you on the couch. "May I?" he asked nervously, gesturing his hand toward your stomach. The corners of your mouth pulled into a soft smile as you nodded, to which he replied with a huge grin. *This* was how you had pictured this moment.

Timothée gingerly placed his hand on your belly and laid his head on your shoulder, idly rubbing semicircles with his thumb. He exhaled a contented sigh while you resumed watching the sitcom his arrival interrupted. Within just a few minutes, his idle movements ceased, and soft snoring began. Amused, you rested your cheek against the soft pillow of curls atop his head.

"Rest while you can, love," you whispered as you laid your hand on top of Timothée's on your stomach and let out a contented sigh of your own.

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Tag List: @croatianprincess @bluizh @jindongdongie @groovy-lady @pmak2002

@pmak2002

October Prompts 🎃

Word prompts to use for doodling or writing

ruffled hair

apple scent

full of colors

walks in the forest

autumnal

falling leaves

chestnuts

umbrellas

ravens

Oktoberfest

pumpkin spice

cornfields

black cat

spooky

first wine

flying kites

whispers

picking apples

ghosts

sweater weather

acorns

pile of leaves

harvest

fog

Jack-o-lanterns

campfire

witches

samhain

stormy days

seance

trick-or-treat

Oh I just wanted to let you know that my URL is now groovy-lady so that’s why I haven’t been getting notifications about your fics.

Oh!! Good to know! I will fix it in my taglist ☺️

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Condition: Moles, Acne, Dry, Greasy, Freckled, Scars, Birthmarks, Bruised, Sunburned, Flawless

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Other: Glassy, Bloodshot, Tear-filled, Clear, Glinting, Shiny

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Texture: Greasy, Dry, Soft, Shiny, Curly, Frizzy, Wild, Unruly, Straight, Smooth, Wavy, Floppy

Length: Cropped, Pixie-cut, Afro, Shoulder length, Back length, Waist length, Past hip-length, Buzz cut, Bald

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Height: Short, Tall, Average, Petite, Giant

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Condition: Clean, Dirty, Manicured, Scarred, Wrinkled

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Tone: Deep, High, Soft, Loud, Raspy, Melodic, Monotonous, Hoarse, Clear, Gentle

Volume: Loud, Soft, Whispery, Booming, Muted

Pace: Fast, Slow, Steady, Hasty, Measured

Expression: Cheerful, Sad, Angry, Calm, Anxious, Confident, Nervous, Excited, Bored

Feeling nostalgic and wishing to have teenage puppy love like this again 🥹

Wish

This is my first one-shot featuring an actor rather than one of their characters. Timothée reminds me a lot of my first love and high-school sweetheart. We grew apart later in life, but I still look back fondly at moments we had like this.

Summary: You are heading off to college across the country. Your boyfriend, Timothée, surprises you with a sweet gesture on your last night together.

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"Come on," Timothée whisper-yelled as he looked down at you from his perch on your shared apartment building's fire escape.

You peered up at him nervously. "What are you doing?"

"You'll see if you ever get up here," he playfully mocked and then disappeared over the roof ledge.

Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down, you chanted to yourself as you pulled yourself up the ladder one rung at a time. "Doesn't he know I'm scared of heights?" you grumbled.

Your irritation melted when you finally made it to the top. Timothée stood by a telescope and a palette of blankets and pillows.

"I want to look at the stars with you," he said sheepishly as he gestured to the setup.

Your heart melted. You had no clue when he could have snuck away to set this up. The two of you had spent nearly every moment of the day together, trying to make the most of the remaining hours. The next day, you and your parents would be driving across the country to move you into your dorm room.

Timothée had the telescope trained on the moon. You both took turns looking through the apparatus, then laid down on the blankets with your pinkies linked to stare up at the sky. You looked over to take in his profile, the sharp angles of his jaw and nose, his curly head of hair.

"Thank you for this."

He squeezed your hand. "I find comfort in the fact that we will still be able to look up at the same moon, at the same stars, even though we're thousands of miles apart. When you look up, know that I am thinking about you." He rolled to his side to face you. "That I love you."

Your breath hitched, "You do?"

"At the risk of sounding super corny, to the moon and back," he replied with a big grin.

"I love you, too, Timmy." Your trembling lips met his as you tried to stifle your tears. "I'm going to miss you so much." Your voice broke and betrayed you.

He reached over and held your cheek. "Hey, shh, none of that. There will be plenty of time for tears tomorrow."

You saw his eyes move to something above you. He leaned up on his elbow and pointed to the sky. "Oh, look! Look! It's a shooting star!"

You sat up to look where he was pointing. "Timmy, that's just an airplane."

"I know, but we can pretend. Annnnnnd it distracted you from crying." He winked. "Make a wish."

You closed your eyes and smiled, complying with his silly instructions. You felt him staring at you.

"What did you wish for?" he asked softly.

"Well, if I tell you, it won't come true," you pushed playfully at his shoulder. His small smirk fell from his face as quickly as it began. He gently lowered himself back down to the blanket once more.

"I'll tell you mine because I don't want it to come true."

You gave him a puzzled look.

He looked up into your eyes and took your hand in his. "I wished you could stay. I'm saying it out loud because it would be selfish of me to genuinely want it to come true. You got a full ride to the school of your dreams! This is an amazing opportunity for you, and I'll be damned if I'll be the one to hold you back."

"Oh, Timmy." You laid down and snuggled into his side. The two of you stayed like that for hours in relative silence before he walked you back to your family's apartment.

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Timothée helped you and your parents load up the last of your belongings the next morning. He shook your dad's hand and gave your mom a hug before they stepped up into the truck, leaving the two of you alone for one last lingering moment.

He pulled a small, flat box from his pocket. "Open this on the way," he said as he handed it to you.

You looked down at the box and ran your thumb over the ribbon. Fat tears fell from your eyes as you looked up into his. Timothée pulled you into a hug, and you sobbed against his chest. You felt him plant a kiss against your hair.

"I am going to miss you so much, [Y/N]. But that has nothing on just how proud I am of you for pursuing your dreams. You are going to do amazing things." His voice cracked at the end.

"I love you, Timmy."

"I love you more."

He lifted your chin and drew you into one last kiss. Your tears mixed as your lips moved together. You pushed yourself away and wiped your face before hurriedly climbing into the back seat of the truck. You knew if you made eye contact that you might not have the strength to leave.

Timothée shut the door behind you. Now that you were buckled in and committed to the journey, you risked looking up at him. He looked as pitiful as you felt. His greenish blue eyes were red and puffy. His hands were stuffed in his pockets like he wasn't quite sure what to do next. As the truck moved forward, he loosened one to wave. You placed your hand on the window, wishing you could touch his one more time. You stared and waved until he was out of sight.

Your attention then fell to the gift in your lap. You gently tugged at the bow and opened the box to find a bracelet with delicate moon and star charms. Underneath, there was a small, handwritten note:

Don't forget to look up.

Love, T

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