Timothée Chalamet Imagines

-Once Upon A Drunk One Night Stand-

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Oh, fuck me in the ass... WHERE AM I?

Unaware of how I got here and why I was here, I jumped out of the unfamiliar bed and picked up the clothes I wore last night that had left little to imagination. They were scattered throughout the entire room, and the biggest problem was that I couldn't find my damn thong.

''Leaving so soon?'' A pair of bright eyes landed on my worried self and I gasped slightly at his beauty. Fuck, what was his name again? Tom? Tim? Timothée! That was it.

''I- uhm, remembered I had to be somewhere. Thanks for last night.'' I remembered coming multiple times and let me tell you: this boy had the most magic hands and tongue I'd ever experienced. And that says a lot considering I'm a big ass hoe.

I put on my way too high heels, blisters spread over all my toes. It was a mess, and I wanted nothing more than to be home.

''Last night you told me you were free today... Did I do something wrong?'' I shook my head fiercely in response. It was quite the opposite actually.

Truth is, I'm not good at stuff like this. I've never been. Yeah, sex was great, but with me it was never going to be more than sex. Call me crazy, but I was really bad at the whole dating thing.

I took a seat on his soft bed, closer than I wanted, but it was time for me to maybe open up for once.

''No- god, it was great. I'm just- I don't know- not really interested in something more.'' He seemed a bit hurt as he scrunched his eyebrows together.

''That's alright. Just lemme give me you my number in case you change your mind.'' He grabbed a pen from his bedside table and gently grabbed a hold of my arm to scribble down a few numbers on it. I examined it for a bit, hesitating whether to tell him I wasn't interested. But he was nice, and I thought I'd maybe, just maybe give it a shot after all.

I looked up into his eyes and brought my face closer to his, placing a lingering kiss on his lips before I found my way out of his apartment.

On my way home, I couldn't help but think about Timothée. I was blushing a light pink and it felt like my insides were burning.

Never had someone given me feelings like this and it scared the shit out of me. I wanted nothing more than to block him out, but I knew that wasn't possible. He managed to worm his way back into my mind everytime I managed to forget about him.

I was torn between two mindsets; one where I'd drink and party and pick up a new guy to get him out of my head, and one where I'd take a chance and call him.

After contemplating for what felt like hours, my thumb was slowly dancing over the call button.

And then it hit me. Finally, my mind was as clear as it could get and I had made my decision.

''Hello?''

''Hey Timothée...''

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This is as mysterious and minimalistic as it could get, but I hope you like it anyway!

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