SFW Timothee Chalamet and Reader Imagines

All Over Again

Warnings - death, vampire Timothée, suicidal thoughts and actions, self harm, listless existence, naturally very thin reader (not a warning just fyi), mentions of love making and self dislike, vampire attack

It would be Nora's 255th birthday if she'd been alive with me. I'd promised in my vows "to death do us part" and I'd hoped for that. I'd hoped that death of us BOTH, would be what parted us. I had not planned her untimely death in a vampire attack, and my death from be stolen from me.

A vampire could not kill themselves. The magic that made us so would always self preserve and take over if it was tried. This is why I'd always ended up ripping the hit men I'd hired for myself to shreds, why the blade never cut too deep, the poison never dissolved in my system, and the gun never created a wound that wouldn't heal

I had abandoned trying long ago. I lived a listless existence. One of my only hobbies, was walking. I would traverse Europe on foot, walking days at a time, only stopping when even my energy was drained. I'd find an animal, help myself to some blood, and pass out in a crowded wood, knowing I was always the most dangerous thing around.

Today I walked through a lovely little town. Even I could see it was quaint and colorful. I basked know the way the sun burned my skin. It was never unbearable, but often a nice reminder that I could feel something. I wasn't completely numb and wasting away.

I was passing by a shop when I saw her. I stood stock still. It was her, it had to be. Was I hallucinating, dreaming? Had I finally died and reunited with her? Her movements had the same grace, she had the sam wavy dark hair, the same sweet brown eyes. She was still incredibly thin, some might've said too thin, but she wasn't for me. I adored her body. The knobbiness others looked down upon, the bones that stuck out. It wasn't her fault, she ate just fine, and she had often cried that she didn't look like the other fuller women. I would always shut down her fears with a session of love making. Now she was here again, buying Paradise Lost, her favorite book!

I rushed into the shop. She was handling the large volume with care. She had the same long, thin fingers, made for playing instruments. The same sweet voice when she asked the books price, though perhaps a bit high pitched than I'd remembered. Her face was just as angular, and lovely. Her dark eyelashes called to me, as did her sweet wide mouth. Oh to kiss that mouth again.

"N-Nora," I finally said, tapping her arm. She turned to me. I noticed the small differences. A few more freckles than my girl, slightly fuller cheeks, eyebrows thicker.

"No, I'm y/n," she said and smiled. She took the hand I'd out stretched.

"I'm Timothée Chalamet," I said, in a hushed whisper.

"Why are you looking at me like that Timothée?" She asked with a giggle. Her laugh wasn't quite as endearing, but I felt a pull to her all the same.

"Because, I think I'm looking at my soulmate, all over again," I said with complete sincerity.