t. chalamet imagines

thirty: my kind of woman

author's note: listen to the song while reading this chapter:)
-

it was cold outside but it wasn't cold to the point of being frozen. it was somewhat warm and had a slight breeze, which made it cold. the sun was setting when you had traveled out of the bar in a drunken haze with timothée right next to you.

you spun around on the streets of the city with a half drunk beer in your hand, some of it spilling onto the concrete as timothée followed you, his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"____," he said, pulling you away by your waist from a passing car that was flying by. "you need to be a little more careful."

you hummed at the contact, taking a sip of the drink before he allowed himself to let go of you and watch you twirl around in the streets. he couldn't help but smile, seeing you turn around and look at him.

"what is it?" you asked softly as you came up to him, resting your arms loosely around him.

"you're my kind of woman," he muttered softly, pulling you tightly to him and pressing a kiss to your forehead before keeping you against his chest.

you smiled.

it was cold outside but it wasn't cold to the point of being frozen. it was somewhat warm and had a slight breeze, which made it cold. the sun was setting when you had traveled out of the bar in a drunken haze with timothée holding onto you.