The Arrangement {Timothée Chalamet x Reader}

two strangers

The queen stood in the foyer of the castle, feeling bare without her crown. She wore a green dress with a black apron tied to her skirt, a few flecks of gold on the hem of her skirt, and on her bodice. She wore no gloves, flats instead of heels, and few pieces of jewelry. She wore her bracelet, a pendant from her father, and her engagement ring from her king. The queen kept retying her apron, fearful that the bow didn't look good. The apron began at the waste line of her dress and ended a bit before the end of her skirt. She pressed her hand over the black cloth tied over her hair, missing the weight of her crown.. She was nervous for the outing, she was very nervous.

You twist your bracelet around your wrist, waiting for Timothée. You felt bare without your glitz and glam. You tap your feet anxiously, you were so nervous, not used to the unplanned night. There's a loud creak from the corner of the loud room. You press your fingertips to your lips at the sight of the man walking from the big doors that lead to another room. He looked...Hot. Green slacks, black shoes, a funny white head piece that so many men wore in the South. Sitting atop his crazy hair, two thick white strings dangle down onto the black coloured shirt he adjusted the cuffs of as he walked. Rolling them up to his elbows and then rolling them into a cuff. He swats at his hair which is crazy. And not his usual hair which is more like restricted, planned. His hair was product-less and untamed completely. It was curlier than it usually was, and waved in every direction. He looks up at you and smiles slightly. You puff your cheeks out, shocked by the way he looked.

You walk outside of the castle and climb into a carriage. It pulls into the village, and stops just after the first street. You climb out of the shuttle, Timothée following you out. You walk down the block in silence with Timothée, your flats tapping against the cobblestone. Once you're closer to the building you can hear the loud jazz music. It sounded very upbeat and warm. Eventually you can see the loud, bright pub. Warm lights spill out onto the sidewalk and you stare at the welcoming building, thrilled to be going inside. You hurry your pace and tap your feet anxiously by the door. You didn't often like to go out but you were so excited. And Timothée was taking his sweet time walking towards you. He opens the door for you and as soon as the atmosphere of the room hits you, your anxiousness hits you like a brick wall. You shy away from the opening. Timothée plants his hand in the centre of your back and shoves you in. You stumble in and are immediately engulfed in the crowd. People in every direction and you couldn't move without bumping into someone. You rise onto your tiptoes, looking for Timothée. Your key giveaway was gone, and without the gold atop his head you couldn't spot him, you spin a circle and remain unable to find him.

He appears by your side and you feel relieved as soon as you notice his presence. "Do you want something to drink?" He calls over the loud music and chatter of people.

You shouldn't, you had only ever had champagne. Never drinks from a pub. Who knew what could happen if you drank? You could make a fool of yourself, embarrass the West to a point where the South quits on you. Or where Timothée spreads the events of the night and turns you into an irresponsible queen. You should not drink. "Yes please." You say, taking Timothée's outstretched hand. You mentally scold yourself as you let him pull you through the people.

You've been stranded in the corner of the room, half empty pint in hand. Your stomach twists, Timothée had been talking to people and you had left to go to the bathroom, when you had come back he was gone. So, you stood alone. You walk towards an empty booth and sit down, staring at the liquid in your cup. Where had Timothée gone? Had he left the actual bar? Or just gotten swarmed with people, swept away by the crowd? You weren't sure and felt mildly uneasy that you were now alone in this crowded room, you felt uncomfortable. You sigh and stare at the translucent liquid, you kinda wished Timothée was sitting with you, talking your ear off about things you didn't care about. That would be better than being alone. You huff and send ripples through your drink. Screw it, you were going to find him. You find an empty booth and pull yourself atop the table, scanning the crowded room. Where was this bastard? You scowl, why was he so difficult to find? You considered shouting to get his attention, that was if he could even hear you over the atmosphere. You stare around impatiently. Where the hell was he?