Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

Interrupted (P6)

Info - still born, depression, stopping therapy, blaming yourself for things, pregnancy, unprotected sex, nudes, manipulation, worried about stealing someone's life, trauma, PTSD, toxic family, conspiracy theories, hate comments, mentions of baby trapping, mentioning Almost dying, oral (male receiving), stalker, mouth fucking

It'd been a year since Lavender. We were healing slowly. The kids especially. I hated how Belle had turned into a little warrior Princess, she no longer clung to anyone. She was always the first to let us know if something was wrong with one of the other kids. Laurie was more serious now, but also more caring. Jude had started talking and walking. Lila and Louis were delights, but very wary. It seemed they only wanted me or Timothée.

Timothée had taken a long hiatus from acting. I felt awful, like I'd taken him away from his world. I felt worse every time I read an article, or he was spotted going out. The world didn't know of our tragedy, he'd kept it well hidden. To the world, Timothée Chalamet had been blessed with twins.

I was falling deeper into the rabbit hole of self doubt. I'd started actively searching hate for me online. They said I'd changed him, stolen him right when he was at his peak. They said he could've changed even more history if I'd just taken my claws out of him. Now I'd baby trapped him, multiple times over so that he was so busy, he couldn't do anything. Then there was the conspiracies. When Zendaya and Tom had joked about us abandoning them on the baby moon, the fans had taken it so seriously. They'd decided that Timothée had been too nice to Z, and I had toxicly made him leave. I felt dismal. I didn't tell Timothée, but I quit therapy.

"Baby, I'd really love to see you play a character in the new thriller from Blumhouse," I said one day.

"Okay, someone has been snooping through my phone," he said, and put his arms around me as I prepared dinner. He kissed up my neck.

"Why don't you ever take parts anymore?" I asked as casually as I could.

"I've got more than enough going on," he chuckled. "Also stop making dinner."

"Why?" I asked. Therapy and my admittance that I didn't blame him had helped Timothée in multitudes. He was practically himself again. Of course he'd always hold Lavender in his heart, but he no longer blamed himself. It was I was wearing a mask most of the time. Now I felt all the guilt of stealing his life. I felt like I'd stolen a priceless gem with a deep history, and not just stolen it, but broken it by nearly dying, and not saving our baby. What Timothée was now was a shoddily glued together piece that I was hoarding for my own personal interest.

"Why?" I asked.

"Mon amour, I haven't spoiled you in over a year. We're going out on the town. We're going to live it up!"

"But, Louis, and Lila," I said worriedly. We had NEVER left them alone. We were a bit overprotective after everything that happened.

"I got my mom, plus the nanny. They'll be fine. Please go out with me my darling wife. I miss showing you off. I got you a new dress and everything. I want another scandalous news article like when we fucked in the water," he beamed.

I felt all the comments about our baby moon flash through my head, and faked a smile.

"Of course," I said gently. I went upstairs and got myself ready for him, but worry kept gnawing at me. As I applied makeup an odd sensation came over me. I opened my Instagram, and snapped a picture of myself and posted it with Timothée tagged. He immediately liked it and wrote "come downstairs already xoxo" underneath. We were rarely so open on social media.

Finally I was done and I came down stairs. Timothée ran a hand down his face in disbelief as I twirled for him. He caught me and kissed me immediately. His hair was extra curly, he must've done it while I was getting ready.