Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

The Snarky French Boy (The end)

Warnings - mentions of sex

"Y-you can't stop thinking about me?" I asked.

"I truly can't, I-I want to be your boyfriend. I want to love you. I want to be your one and only."

"Who are you and what have you done with Timothée?" I demanded.

"No, no, baby," he said and that last word made me buzz. Was I his baby? Could I possibly be?

"I'm crazy about you, I know it sounds fake but I am," he said, and he kissed my nose gently.

"I-I need you to explain," I said, closing my eyes so I couldn't be distracted by the sight of him.

"I've never felt this way before. I'm used to coasting through life, doing what I want, you changed that. You're different. Usually when I have sex, I'm happy because my cock feels good. With you, fuck I can barely explain it. It was like, well fuck I'm so bad at explaining."

"No, try," I urged.

"It's like my body was on fire. I didn't care about my stupid cock, I cared about if you got off. I started noticing the little things about you. I thought about your soft hair, your honeysuckle scented skin, your freckles, you sweet nose, the way your chest moved because your heart was going a million miles an hour, like mine was."

"Timothée this is just so weird, I can't really fathom this," I said gently. "Not because I don't like you, but this is so wild."

"I want to convince you!" He said earnestly.

"You've changed me y/n," he said seriously. I've been an ass. A pretentious ass! I have lived my life thinking I'll never leave my boring small town and that morphed me into a person that didn't care. I said it didn't matter what I did because I wasn't achieving my dreams, but you changed me. I care how I act toward you. I was forcing myself to be rude. Remember on the mountain? You comforted me when you didn't have to. You're miraculous. I've never even used these words before, but you're different."

"To be honest, Timothée, I'm having a hard time, this feels fake or like we'll bomb eventually when the awe wears off," I said sadly.

"Didn't you have an instant connection to me?" He asked.

"Yes," I admitted.

"Well, I feel the same with you, I was better at hiding it," he told me.

"I can't believe I've fallen head over heels for someone. I didn't think it was possible, but it is. Why do you think I bothered you so often? I couldn't stop thinking about you. I've not touched anyone else since I ate you out, it was heaven."

"Oh, Timmy, I couldn't stop thinking about you either!"

"Good! I want you to be as obsessed with me as I am with you. I know I can't draw, but if I could, my sketch book would be just as full of you as yours is with me," he told me, caressing my cheek.

"Really?" I asked.

"But I can write," he said, and he handed me a notebook I hadn't seen him bring in. I looked through. The first few pages just had my name l over and over again.

"At first, I was so awestruck I couldn't think of what to say," he admitted.

I turned some pages and saw lengthy entries about me. How my skin smelled like roses, how my hair was perfect, how my lips looked so kissable, and many entires on how wild and weird this was.

"I know I've been an asshole, I tried to distract myself in different ways, I lied to myself, but everything comes back to you. I know you deserve someone you don't have to teach to be kind and empathetic. But at my core, I want you, and all you entail. I can't imagine wanting anyone else," he told me gently.

"I don't feel burdened by you," I said slowly. "I'm just worried about long distance honestly."

"Didn't I tell you? I only spend my summers in France, during the school year I'm in New York," he chuckled.

"Really!" I asked.

"Yeah," he smiled.

"Oh Timothée, you are absolutely everything, I'm obsessed with you. Know that I never wanted Byron, I was yours the moment you walked down the stairs," I told him.

"My girl," he said sweetly, brushing a thumb over my cheek. Then he was kissing me passionately.

He was a quick study, eager to be the perfect boyfriend. Even when he summered in France he never strayed. It was as if he was obsessed with me, like I was with him.

We moved fast because he was a whole new person with me. His parents were elated. He asked me to marry him very quickly, and I didn't mind, I knew he was the one. Many years later we had a cobblestone house in France, five children running around, and we were just as in love as before. I'd fallen for a snarky French boy, and I wasn't about to stop falling.