Long Timothee Chalamet Stories

My Step Brother, Timothee (P3)

Info - Timothée being mean but flirty, stepbrother Timmy, mean Timmy, Timothée embarrassing reader, toxic attraction, mention of wet dreams

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Say I'm the best you ever had," he smirked. My mouth dropped open.

"What is this game? One moment you're flirting and the next you hate me?"

"I do hate you, doesn't mean I can't mess with ya," he chuckled.

"No way am I saying that," I snapped.

"What about your show?" He asked. I bit my lip. I did want to see it.

"Yourethebestieverhad," I said quickly and he handed me the remote. I felt hot and prickly with embarrassment. I couldn't figure out his game. Did he want me or not? I found I still wanted him. He was sexy in a way I'd never experienced.

He got up and went to the garage. He began to play his electric guitar. He was actually good. I was so curious, I peeked on a commercial break. He wore a black head band to keep his curls back, and a sleeveless black top, his fingers worked fast on the frets. He looked like a wet dream. This was too much to handle.

The next morning I woke up early, and got ready for the first day at my new school. I had washed and ironed my uniform myself. I had my binder and notebook ready. Everything I needed was here and I was ready to go thirty minutes before everyone else was.

Timothée, true to his character, slid down the banister in a uniform that clearly no one had ironed, and grabbed the milk and down some before shoving a handful of cereal in his mouth.

"That is so unhygienic," I scoffed.

"Woke up late," he said over a mouthful of cheerios. "Ready to go?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm your ride," he smirked.

"Wait really?" I asked in dread.

"Yuuup, comon loser," he chuckled. I didn't want to follow him anywhere, but if we were to get to school on time, I needed to.

"Stop being a backseat driver I saw the damn stop sign," he growled ten minutes later.

"Could've fooled me," I mumbled.

"I promise I'll get you to school on time and in one piece," he snapped. He did as he said and I hopped out immediately. I wanted to distance myself from him. However, he was in my first class.

"You gotta a pencil?" He asked me. I groaned at his utter incompetence.

"Here, it's the last one I'll give you," I said and shoved one at him.

"Thanks Sis," he sneered. I realized he hadn't been lying when he said he knew people here. Students were coming up to him and shaking hands saying they were so happy he was here. Boys and girls, freshman and senior. He must be one of those naturally popular people.

I tuned him out when class started. I needed to make a name for myself here, and the only way I knew how to do that, was through the teachers. I raised my hand desperately for every question asked. I kept hearing Timothée scoffing, but I didn't care.

"I bet you have wet dreams about answering questions correctly," Timothée said to me as we changed classes.

"I bet you have wet dreams about yourself, since you're such a prideful prick," I snarled and pushed past him.

I was excited at lunch. Some people may have been nervous but I could pick a table and make fast friends. The forced interaction was good for me. I confidently walked forward when someone slipped out a foot and I fell forward. My face landed in my lunch and my top was ruined. I looked up to see Timothée's mocking expression.

"Clumsy, clumsy, I guess you can't be perfect at everything," he chuckled.

"I thought you didn't want me embarrassing you!" I snapped.

"This is for that first class, so pathetic," he rolled his eyes.

"Dude that was such an asshole move," came a voice. It was like Prince Charming had come on his white horse. A boy was smiling down at me with perfect straight white teeth, close cropped golden hair, and a gorgeous jaw. He held out his hand to me.

"Hey, no, I tripped her, I'll help her up," Timothée growled and shot out his hand also. I took the other boy's hand instantly.

"I'm Jake, you must be the new girl everyone is talking about," he said, as he used paper towels to help with my disaster of a shirt.

"The office probably has replacements," he offered.

"Why is everyone talking about me?" I asked.

"Because you're with Chalamet. He's known around here, some girls are worried he's your boyfriend," he chuckled.

"He's not," I said.

"I can tell," he nodded to the mess on my tray.

"I'm his step sister," I said plainly.

"Ahhhh, sibling rivalry," he said, but I hated thinking of Timothée as my sibling.

"I suppose, I'm y/n by the way," I said.

"Pleasure to meet you y/n, come sit at my table," he said and guided me along. I looked back to see Timothée scowling.