Timothèe Chalamet Imagines

✤ trashed ✤

Your POV

"Timmmmmmy." I pull wrap my hands around his neck and pull him down to my level, whispering in his ear.

"What," he whispers back, grinning at my stupidity.

"I am so. Drunk." I whisper in his ear over the loud music, still with my hands wrapped around him.

"Yeah Y/N, I know," he whispers back, playing along with me.

Honestly, work has been so stressful lately that we went out tonight and I let myself get absolutely trashed. We're at a club in New York City, the music surging around us, the lights low, and I can't even remember how many drinks I've had.

"Let's dance!" I shout.

He pulls back and winces. I accidentally shouted right in his ear.

I bring my hand up, covering my mouth in horror.

"Oops... I'm so sorry... did I make your ear fall off?" I ask.

He shakes his head, grinning and looking at the ceiling.

"No Y/N, I still have both ears, see?" he says. He pulls back his curls showing me his ears.

I nod with relief.

"Come on!" I tell him. I grab his wrist and pull him to the middle of the floor, jumping around and dancing with him. Several times I almost slip and crash to the ground, but he catches me by the arms at the last second.

"You are so drunk!" he yells over the music, laughing at my lack of stability.

"You are so hot!" I yell back.

He just shakes his head and grins.

We dance haphazardly to a few more songs before he pulls me aside.

"Why'd we stop?" I yell. My voice sounds all loopy and funny. I start laughing at it.

"Just needed a break," he answers. I love that when he talks to me he has to lean down for me to hear him, and his curls tickle the side of my face. That makes me giggle even more.

"What?" he asks.

"What?" I say with a sheepish grin poking him in the chest with one finger. I stumble over my own feet and reach out, catching myself on his shoulders.

"Okay Y/N, I think it's time for us to go home," he says, assessing my state.

"Nooooo!" I whine, giving him my pouty face.

"Y/N, look at you. You're stumbling over your own feet," he says, grinning at my stupidity in this state.

Looking into his eyes, I find a moment of clarity and seriousness. He's so beautiful. The light behind him illuminates his curls, giving him a sort of halo. His face is painted with a small, almost shy grin. I love shy Timmy. Some nights he's the life of the party, but some he's more reserved and just hangs back, watching and absorbing everything. And I know he only had one drink tonight just to make sure I was safe. When I look into his eyes at this moment, I see all of his sweetness and generosity in them.

"So? Should we go?" he asks.

"Only if you give me a kiss!" I say, my voice unnaturally bubbly.

He leans down and kisses my lips lightly, pulling back with a cringe. I frown.

"That is not what a girl wants to see after you kiss her," I say.

"Sorry. You just taste like straight vodka," he says. "Now let's go."

We leave the club, and he practically holds me upright as we make our way through the sea of partying bodies and out into the cities crisp night. He flags down a cab, and the driver actually recognizes him.

While they chat about Timmy's movies, I slump my head against his shoulder, my eyelids feeling heavier by the second. I listen to them go on about Call Me By Your Name, and I almost fall asleep completely.

When we get back to his apartment complex, he thanks the driver and gives him an autograph before we walk inside. We take the elevator all the way up to his apartment and he unlocks the door.

I stand at the doorway and slump against the doorframe.

"I can't walk to the bed," I whine, shutting my eyes. I suddenly feel his arms wrap around me and my eyes snap open. I squeal as he carries my bridal style down the hall to his bed, and throws me down on top of the covers.

"Shoes off!" he says, tugging off my shoes and throwing them to the floor. I stare at his ceiling and laugh lazily. "You need pajamas," he says. He disappears into his closet and comes back out holding his Glossier sweatshirt and some of his sweatpants. He comes back over to me and lays them on the bed next to us. I sit up too quickly and almost fall back onto the bed, but he puts one hand on the small of my back to keep me up.

"Thank youuuuuu!" I say. My voice sounds so strange; words slurred and uncontrollable. I stand up next to the bed and shimmy out of my skirt, tearing off my top right after. I'm about to put on his sweats, but he's sitting on the edge of the bed right in front of me and I get an idea. Grinning stupidly, I saunter over to him with what I think is a sexy walk. By the look on his face, I'm pretty sure it's not. I slide my hands around his shoulders and sit on his lap, facing him.

"Ya know... we don't have to go to bed yet." I move my body up against his and he laughs, shaking his head. I lean in and kiss him roughly. He kisses me back, but not as passionately as I want him to. I wrap my fingers into his hair, pulling at it.

He pulls away a few inches.

"Y/N, not tonight," he whispers.

"Whyyyy?" I whine.

"Because you are so, so trashed."

"That doesn't matter. I want to have sexxxx with you," I say, my words slurred.

"I am not having sex with you while you're drunk," he says firmly, but still with a small smile.

"Fine," I sigh.

He gently lifts me off of his lap and sits me on the edge of his bed. He helps me pull on his sweatpants and tugs his sweatshirt over my head. He has to roll up the sweatpants three times because they're so long on me. I cuddle in them, inhaling the scent of fresh linen, lavender, and a hint of his cologne. It washes over me and calms me, making my eyes grow even more tired.

He shuts off his lamp, grabs something from his closet, and leaves for a minute. I hear the bathroom sink run for a moment before he comes back, changed into sweats. The hood of his sweatshirt is pulled up, and his curls make it poke up around his head.

He walks through the dark and crawls next to me in the bed, instantly wrapping his arms around me and nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck.

"I loooooove you Lil Timmy Tim. My little rapper," I say in a sing-song voice, curled against him.

"You sound like a lunatic. But I love you too. Now go to sleep, because I already know that tomorrow you're going to wake up and feel like hell," he whispers in my ear.

I smile as I fall asleep in his arms. I know I'll feel awful tomorrow, but at least I'll have him to take care of me.

I cannot believe all of the support on this. I just started writing these for fun and as a creative outlet, but it has grown so much and it's crazy that I'm about to hit 10k reads. as always, message/comment any requests. I feel like I know all of you, and I love you all so much (: thank you <3