Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

My Boyfriend's Sister's Boyfriend (The end)

The cottage was like a dream come true. I didn't touch my phone. Timothée had me on every surface the house offered. He even had me in the lake and the hot tub. I felt all loved up and happy. At night he read me the letters he'd written me. I always ended up crying, and then making love to him. It was blissful.

"I don't wanna go baaaaack," I whined as he drove.

"I know Mon Amor," he said, kissing the hand he held. He never drove with two hands anymore, one was always in mine.

"But we have to pack up your place," he beamed. While at the cabin, Timothée had asked me to move in with him. Since I was practically living with him already, I was happy to agree. We were going to get a completely new place. I was planning to cut contact with my family for a while.

I was ready to start over with Timothée by my side. I was going to get counseling, and thankfully, my job had been gracious with me. I was going to be able to stay. It seemed like everything was going to work out.

"How much stuff do you have?" Timothée asked.

"It won't be hard to pack up, my place is small," I said as I punched in my code. I dropped my belongings when I saw what was in my house.

A large banner saying "intervention" was hung up. My heart hammered as I saw many of my family members, and a few of my friends. Dillon was on a FaceTime, so he wasn't breaking the restraining order I had against him.

"Holy shit," Timothée said in horrified awe.

"This is a whole new level of crazy," I gasped.

"Y/n, we've gathered here today because we care about you. This isn't like you at all, and we fear it's a psychotic break, or that you are a victim of brain washing." My mother's hands were shaking as she read from her paper.

"You've got to be kidding me," I said in exasperation.

"We care about you, this is why we want you to realize what you've done. You're ruining your life."

"No, you don't care about me!" I snapped. "You care about your facade as a wholesome family. You care about being related to your friends. You don't care about me, you care about yourselves."

"You aren't acting rational," my father dismissed me.

"It isn't rational to leave someone who is abusing me, who I'm not in love with, who I'm only with to make you guys happy?"

"You do love him, he's just brainwashed you," my mother snapped at Timothée. Timothée rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"I have literally never been happier than I am with Timothée," I said, with a choked sob.

"This is what we're talking about, you're hysterical, you're in tears," my brother was next to speak.

"I'm crying because you all are being horrible, and you keep brushing over the fact that he abused me," I shouted.

"Honey, a mark or two doesn't qualify as abuse," she said superiorly.

I whipped my shirt off. I was riddled with hickeys, but I didn't care. The bruise was in the final stages of healing, which meant it looked awful, and it was a multitude of colors.

"This isn't a minor mark, he kicked me to the floor, then stood on me. He has choked me, and pinched me," I showed them my arms. Most of them were grimacing. Some couldn't bare to look.

"Why did you have to do something so vulgar," my mom gasped, now choosing to focus on the removal of my shirt, instead of the bruise.

"Dillon, why do you even want me back?" I demanded.

"You're mine," he said simply. I rolled my eyes. Of course, if he had to be a victim of cheating, he had to be the most dramatic victim of cheating. If he was going to get me back, he had to be sooooo irresistible that I left who I cheated on him with. He had to be the best at everything.

I broke into sobs, retreating into Timothée's arms for comfort. He clutched me tightly, soothing me by patting my head.

"You all should be ashamed of yourself," Timothée snarled. "All she has tried to do is make you happy, and you all treat her like garbage. She is finally is putting herself first and you put her through Hell."

"Who are you to talk," scoffed Dillon.

"I'm her boyfriend," he snapped.

"Wow, not only did you sleep with him, you are with him now. How much more shame can you put on us," my mother wailed.

"She won't be speaking to you all for quite sometime," Timothée said for me.

"You can't speak for her!"

"Yes he can!" I shrieked. "Get the fuck out of my house or I'm calling the police!"

With that threat they began to file out. They hissed vile things to me as they left. When they were finally gone, I sunk to the floor in tears.

"That was horrible," Timothée said, pulling me into his arms.

"They completely ignored me," I sobbed.

"There is no way you could have done it in a way that you'd get what you wanted," he said. "You took your shirt off for God's sake, baby. They didn't answer to that."

"You're right," I said, letting him comfort me. His fingers went under my chin so he could lift my head up. He kissed me gently, lips moving languidly against mine. I sighed into the kiss, knowing the most important person was on my side.

I cut off contact with my family. Eventually they stopped trying. I think they story they told everyone was that an evil man had convinced me to cheat on poor Dillon, who had done nothing wrong. I didn't really care to know. They were all toxic.

Timothée and were married a year later. The wedding was small, and mostly his family. He and I eventually moved to France, where he became a big name in the acting business, like he'd always dreamed. I made friends more easily in France, where no one's minds were tainted towards me. I finally had a group of support again. I found out I was pregnant a few months after Timothée's first big premiere. We were ecstatic.

We knew our story wasn't very normal. I knew some would always think we were naive, but our love didn't fade. I would forever be thankful I met my ex boyfriend's sister's boyfriend.