Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

The Nanny (P7)

Warning - smut, mentions of alcohol, shower sex, oral (male and female receiving), unprotected sex

After Timothée had finished, he left. He just left. He pretty much ignored me the rest of the party, the rest of the day. I was beyond confused. I kept wondering if I'd made it out to be more than it was, but I remembered it all so clearly.

He'd told me I meant the world to him. He said I was a better to Klaus than his mother. He had told me I was one of the kindest people he knew. He had said many things, and we'd had sex. The sex we'd had, had NOT felt like fucking. It felt like making love. For God's sake, he'd told me I felt like heaven! Why would he do all that and leave? Had I pegged him wrong this whole time? Was he manipulative, no, he couldn't be. He was so kind. So what was happening? I felt as though I were going insane.

I spent Sunday staring into space, trying to make sense of it all. When I woke up Monday morning for work, I looked at my phone. I had a calendar notification that Timothée had cancelled all my hours for this week. No text from him, just a damn calendar notification. So, I didn't go in.

I was brooding, in my pajamas, flicking aimlessly through my television apps. I heard a crack of thunder and rain began to pour. I put on some headphones so I could play a video game, but something kept bothering me. I felt like I was missing something in the vicinity around me. That's when I saw it, I couldn't hear because of the headphones, but I'd been catching it out of the corner of my eye. Pebbles were clattering against my apartment's window.

Confused, I stood up and went to the window. I opened it and looked down to see an absolutely drenched Timothée.

"What are you doing?" I shouted over the wind.

"I knocked on your door, but you didn't answer," he screamed, hands cupped on either side of his mouth to sound louder.

"I'm sorry, I was playing a video game. I didn't hear, you can come up," I told him, he nodded and took off running. I went to my door, heart hammering. It'd been silence for two days. What was he doing? He couldn't have texted me. I knew he was dramatic, but my goodness.

I heard the rap on the door and I flung it open. He was dripping everywhere. I bet the only reason they'd let him in at all was because he was famous. He looked a bit crazed at the moment.

"Timothée what are you-"

"You're fired," he said urgently.

"Wh-what?" I took a step back, tears began to fill my eyes. "Don't do this Timothée, don't fire me. I'll never mention it again. I can act like it didn't happen, I can act professional."

"Well I can't," he panted, I noticed his hands were shaking.

"Do you need to come in?" I asked, feeling bad for him even though he was breaking my heart.

"No, I need to say this now or I'll never get the courage again," he said, as droplets coursed down his face.

"I'm firing you because I'm in love with you. Like crazy, madly, in love with you. It's killing me to have you so close but so far."

I was stunned at his confession. I felt my breathing quicken as I looked at him. Was I dreaming this? Had world famous actor Timothée Chalamet really thrown rocks at my window, in the rain, so he could tell me he was in love with me?

"I don't know how you feel, but like I said, I can't brush away what we did Saturday. I can't forget it, and I can't stop fucking thinking about it, about you. I've wanted you to be mine for such a long time y/n."

I was still staring, and I knew he was probably nervous as hell that I was silent, but I couldn't seem to get a word out. Dreaming, I must be dreaming.

"I had a dream the other night where we were married and-"