Timothée Chalamet Imagine - Blog Posts
Oh? Is that so? (Pt. 1)
Warning(s): Timothee looking so cute that you might faint. Very short, Im tired
Laurie and you have been friends since we were kids, and yet there was always a strange tension between you two.
“Laurie, can put this necklace on me?”
“Why?”
“A date.”
“Wait. WHAT?!”
“A date, a man shall try to court me and I shall have to either refuse or oblig-“
“I know what a date is. But you never told me that you were going on one!”
“Do you have to know?”
“I do”
“and why is that?”
“Um- I-uh”
Uhh I’m dying for like angsty fluff w lee so I was thinking about him w the B1 prompt
Not when I just realized
Lee just realized how much you really meant to him.
Lee (bones and all) x eater!reader
requested by anon.
word count: 687
warnings: attempts of running away
note: i hope this was angsty-fluff just the way you wanted 🪼
find more here: masterlist, Lee (bones and all) master list
The night air was heavy with the smell of wet earth and something else, something darker, metallic, that neither of you would admit to but both recognized. Lee's truck idled a few feet away, parked quietly, headlights slicing through the trees. The two of you stood just off the dirt road, your breathing shallow, your hands shaking at your sides.
You had attempted to escape. You truly had. But Lee was faster. He always was.
You waited for him to sleep, his breathing slow and steady next to you, before you slipped out of the truck. You crept cautiously, not wanting the dry leaves and twigs lying about to give away your footsteps. Your scuffed drawstring bag, stuffed with what little you had to bring—an additional shirt, a canteen of water, a handful of crumpled dollar bills—was thrown over your shoulder as you set foot into the great unknown.
You didn't know where you were headed. Just away. Away from the starvation, from the things you'd done, from the boy who had somehow occupied your whole world.
You'd gone a mile before you noticed his footsteps behind you. Quick, firm.
"Stop," Lee had bellowed, his tone brusque, slicing across the stillness of the woods.
Your heart had raced, but you hadn't turned. Not yet. Not until he slipped his hand around your wrist, tight but not unkind, and stopped you in your tracks. You could have struggled, could have screamed. But you knew he'd never release you without a battle.
And so here you stood, motionless, suspended between what you had and what still lay between you.
"Where you gonna go?" His voice was gentler than you anticipated, but there was something naked in it, something desperate.
You didn't look at the darkness ahead. "I don't know."
"Bullshit."
You turned, your eyes colliding with his. Even in the dim light, you could sense the fear behind them. Not anger. Not frustration. Fear. And it destroyed you.
"You always knew this wasn't forever," you whispered.
Lee shook his head, moving closer. His fingers curled as if he wanted to touch you but wasn't certain you'd allow it. "I never knew that," he whispered, his voice rough. "I never considered it like that. You leaving—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "You can't leave me now. Not when I just figured out how much you mean to me."
Your chest hurt, as if something in you had been sucked out. You wished to yell at him, inform him that he did not get to do this, to pull you back when it was simple and hold on tight when you attempted to leave.
Instead, you swallowed hard. "You'll be alright."
"That isn't true," he stated, his voice cracking. "You know that isn't true. You're the only one who knows."
Your throat constricted. Naturally, you did know. Who but another Eater would comprehend the hunger, the isolation, the way the world would ever reject you? You and Lee had lived together for so long now, traveling from spot to spot, protecting each other, feeding each other. And you were the one attempting to leave now, as if that was even an option.
"Stay," he begged. "I'll get it right next time. I won't exclude you, I promise.”
You hunted his features for the deceit, but none was there. Only Lee, naked and open in a fashion, ever exposed himself to anyone. You did not want to go; reality seeped into your joints like a wound. You'd only been frightened. Frightened of needing him so intensely.
Your fingers quivered, reflecting his, before you finally bridged the space between you, nudging your forehead against his. Lee breathed shakily, his hands staying at your waist, awaiting the invitation. You granted it by inclining towards him, allowing his heat to anchor you.
“I hate you for keeping me here," you whispered.
Lee released a wheezy, half-laugh, angling his head just so that your lips skimmed. "I'd hate me too."
And despite everything, despite the hunger, the danger, the blood that would always stain both of your hands, you weren’t going anywhere.
𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐓
🌟 = Fluff, 🪐 = Angst, ✨ = mild spice, 🎬 = hurt/comfort
{𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝} → open ! || requests are usually open unless they get too much, then I will turn them off so that I could finish other requests ! ||
ONE-SHOTS :
Movie night 🌟🎬 - At home movie date with step-father Timmy.
SERIES:
(not yet available)
BLURBS :
(not yet available)
Movie night
At home movie date with step-father Timmy.
stepdad!Timothée x mom!reader
word count: 1K
warnings: BRIEF mentions of abuse, fluff
note: unedited lol
find more here: masterlist
The day had been long and grueling. Hours of filming had passed, and when you were finally done, your body screamed in exhaustion. Yet even in exhaustion, there was one thing that always made the end of the day worth it: picking up Alice from daycare.
As you pulled up to the small brick building, you could already spot your five-year-old through the glass doors, bouncing up and down on her feet when she saw you. The minute you came in, she ran to your arms, her little hands around your neck as you picked her up.
"Mommy!" she shrieked, her face breaking out in excitement. "Miss Jenna, let me finger paint today! I made you a picture!"
You kissed her forehead, enjoying the heat of her small body against yours. "I can't wait to see it, sweetheart. Did you have a good day today?"
Alice bobbed her head excitedly. "Uh-huh! And guess what? I didn't even take a nap!"
You laughed. "That's amazing, but I bet you're going to be tired later."
"Not a bit!" she protested, yawning right afterward.
You laughed, settling her on your hip as you scooped up her little backpack. "Okay, let's go home."
The ride home was dominated by Alice's constant talk about her day, and as you pulled into your driveway, you were relieved to see the familiar comforting view of home. You carried Alice indoors, unaware that a surprise awaited you.
As soon as you opened the door and walked inside, your breath was taken in your throat. Your downtown home's living room had been fully converted into a movie theater. String lights hung from the ceiling, and they provided a warm, golden light to the room. The blinds were closed, and an ice cream station had been established, complete with various toppings. A new batch of French fries was on the counter, and a popcorn machine was in the corner, the buttery aroma wafting through the air. In front of the couch, a blanket fort had been deliberately set up, packed with pillows and soft blankets.
"Surprise!" Timothée shouted out, his voice full of excitement.
You stood there in shock as Alice struggled free from your arms and ran towards him. "Timmy! You did this?" she cried out, her eyes wide with astonishment. Timothée got down to her height, placing his hands on his knees with a grin on his face. "Of course, I did! You and Mommy had a long day, so I thought, what better way to unwind than a special movie night?"
Alice let out a gasp, her small hands clasped together. "Best surprise EVER!" she shrieked before dashing over to the popcorn machine, her enthusiasm overflowing.
You looked over at Timothée, still in wonder. "You did all this for us?” He shrugged playfully. "Of course. You two deserve it." His tone was warm, full of sincerity. "I thought we could watch whatever Alice chooses, eat way too much ice cream, and just have a nice night together."
Your heart filled with affection as you moved closer, encircling his neck with your arms. "You're great, you know that?" Timothée smiled, hugging your waist. "I do my best."
Alice pulled at his sleeve before he could speak further. "Timmy, can we go now? I wanna choose the movie!"
"Sure," Timothée replied, hoisting her onto his shoulders as she laughed. "What do we watch?" Alice drummed her chin theatrically, then smiled. "Encanto!"
Timothée breathed in. "Awesome choice! But before that, do you want to get some ice cream?”
“YES!" Alice shouted. She jumped down and dashed towards the ice cream corner with Timothée close behind. You saw them with a heart full of love, aware that although Timothée was not Alice's biological father, he loved her as if she were his own. And from the way she gazed at him, with admiration and trust, it was apparent that Alice loved him just the same.
As the three of you finally nestled up under the blanket fort, ice cream in your hands and the movie beginning, you couldn't help but think—this was happiness. Simple as that. Your little family, where you were meant to be.
Your mind wandered back to the past, to the life you had before Timothée entered it. Alice's real father had been another man, a man who should have kept you safe but who had become the reason you had to flee. The relationship had begun well, but with time, his temper had grown worse. The way he treated you, the way he behaved around Alice, had frightened you. When he had raised his hand, even once, you knew that you had to go. Not only for yourself, but for Alice. You battled for sole custody, refusing to leave her vulnerable and never looking back. It hadn't been simple, rebuilding your life as a single parent, but then Timothée had blundered in like a gust of fresh air. He had demonstrated to you that love was gentle, that love was safe. That a man could love a child who wasn't biologically his own as deeply as if she were.
As the first scene of Encanto was played, you turned your eyes on Alice, who was nestled between you and Timothée, her little hands clutching a bowl of popcorn. And after a while, you leaned over to her with a smile. "What do you say to Timothée, sweetheart?"
Alice looked up with her big, expressive eyes at him and smiled. "Thank you, Daddy!" she chirped merrily before grabbing another bite of popcorn.
Timothée froze, his breath hitching as his eyes slightly glistened. He blinked a few times, a hand instinctively coming up to rub his face as a soft chuckle escaped his lips. “Anytime, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling her close and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.
You stretched out, fingers intertwined with his, a reassuring grip of his hand. He gripped it back, his eyes shining with love and appreciation. And as Alice sat through the movie, blissfully unaware of the depth of emotional response her words had elicited, you knew at that moment that Timothée would never be more than a step away, as her father, as your husband, as the center of your small family.
i have a headcannon that paul was a goofy child growing up and often gave his parents headaches.
Forever you
Lee is cursed with immortality, and he finds Y/N's reincarnation every time.
Vampire!Lee x Reincarnation!Reader
words: 3.5k
warning: mentions of death, blood, m*rder, reincarnation, abuse , war (brief)
note: school is taking up my time. Unedited
find more here: masterlist
It was the year 1060, the village sat on the edge of a dense forest, untouched by war but not by whispers of creatures that lurked in the dark. Lee had no business here, yet he found himself drawn to the small stone hut at the heart of it.
A storm had rolled in, and with it, the gnawing hunger he had grown to hate. He needed to leave before he did something unforgivable. But then, the door to the hut creaked open, and she stood there—Y/N, her lantern’s glow illuminating wide, cautious eyes.
“You look half-dead,” she remarked, stepping forward.
He nearly laughed at the irony. “I suppose I do.”
“Come inside before you freeze.”
She wasn’t afraid of him—not when he stumbled in with wounds that should have killed any normal man, nor when his skin remained ice-cold even by the fire. She asked no questions, only tending to him as her mother once had for wounded knights.
Over the weeks, Lee stayed close. He helped gather wood, watched her mix herbs, and listened to her hum old songs that stirred something ancient in him. Y/N was kind, but sharp-witted, never failing to call out his silences.
“You always look like you’re carrying a burden.”
He glanced at her, stirring the pot over the fire. “Maybe I am.”
“Well,” she huffed, leaning against the table. “You should set it down every once in a while.”
It happened by the river. The sun was dipping below the trees, setting the sky on fire. Y/N stood barefoot on the bank, watching the water swirl between her toes.
“You’re staring.”
Lee blinked. “Am I?”
She turned to face him fully, something unreadable in her gaze. “You always do.”
Before he could think, she reached for him, fingers curling in the fabric of his tunic. When she kissed him, it was nothing like the hesitant, fleeting gestures of courtly lovers. It was warmth, life, the taste of honey and herbs.
For the first time in centuries, Lee felt human again.
The night was still, but Lee knew danger when he felt it. He woke to the scent of blood, not Y/N’s, but the slaughtered lamb outside the hut. A warning.
He knew he couldn’t keep this from her any longer.
That night, he found her sitting by the fire, waiting for him. Her eyes followed him as he paced, struggling with the words.
“I need to tell you something,” he said, voice low.
She curled a brow. “Oh? You’re secretly a nobleman? Or—gods forbid—a bard?”
He almost smiled, but the weight of the truth held him back. “I’m not… like you, Y/N. I haven’t been for a long time.”
She tilted her head, curious but unafraid. “Go on.”
He took a breath, then met her gaze. “I don’t age. I don’t die—not in the way humans do. I… survive on blood.”
The silence stretched between them. Then, to his utter shock, she smirked. “You’re not about to tell me you sparkle in the sunlight, are you?”
He blinked. “What?”
“You know,” she waved. “Shimmering skin, brooding forever, that sort of thing.”
Despite himself, a laugh escaped him. “No. I avoid the sun because it weakens me, not because I… glisten.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “So, are you going to eat me?”
His amusement faded. “Never.”
She studied him for a moment before shrugging. “Good. Then I see no reason to be afraid.”
“You should be,” he murmured. “You don’t understand what I am.”
“I understand enough,” she said, softer this time. “You’re Lee. You help me gather wood, you listen to my terrible singing, and you burn the stew when I let you cook. That’s enough for me.”
They stayed together after that. Y/N made jokes about his brooding and inhuman coldness, but she never feared him. They danced under the moonlight, shared whispered stories between breaths, and Lee let himself love without fear for the first time in his immortal life.
But time was cruel.
Sickness took her slowly. Lee tried everything; fetched herbs, stole medicines, pleaded to gods he didn’t believe in. Nothing stopped the inevitable.
“Stay,” she whispered, voice weak in the flickering candlelight.
Lee clutched her hand, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’ll find you,” he swore. “Every time.”
And as her last breath left her lips, Lee sat in silence, knowing this was only the beginning of his endless search for her.
He wandered for years, waiting for the pull, for the feeling deep in his bones that would lead him back to her. And then he found her again. Different life, different name—but it was her. It was always her.
He never told her, not at first. He let her fall in love with him the way she always did—slowly, sweetly, as if for the first time. But the truth always came out. Sometimes she laughed when she learned what he was. Sometimes she was afraid. But always, in every life, she stayed.
And always, in every life, she left him in the end.
And still, he searched.
The year was 1300s and this time he found her in the bustling market square, the scent of fresh bread and spices filling the air, the chatter of merchants blending into a steady hum. But it was her laughter that cut through the noise, clear and familiar, sending a shiver down his spine.
He knew her the moment he saw her. He always did.
For two days, he followed at a careful distance, watching the way she moved, how she spoke with ease, and how she tossed a playful remark to the baker’s apprentice. He wanted to approach, but how could he? How did one explain centuries of longing?
It was she who finally ended his hesitation. Spinning on her heel in a narrow alleyway, she caught him lingering in her shadow.
“Are you following me?” she demanded, hands on her hips. Her sharp stare knocked the breath from his lungs. It was her, through and through—that stubborn courage, that fire he had loved before.
“I was hoping to talk to you,” Lee admitted, voice low, almost reverent.
She raised an eyebrow. “Then speak.”
And somehow, he found himself walking her home that evening, conversation flowing as if they had known each other forever. In a way, they had.
Lee learned that Y/N was headstrong, witty, and too clever for her good. She spoke of faraway places with longing, of adventure and stories that she dreamed of living by herself. She was restless in this life, much like she had been before, though she didn’t yet know why.
He became her shadow, not out of fear but out of need. He couldn’t leave her, not again. He helped carry baskets when she let him, stole apples from carts to hear her gasp in feigned disapproval, and listened to her hum old songs that stirred something ancient in his chest.
“You don’t talk much,” she mused one evening as they sat by the river.
“I talk when it matters.”
“And when does it matter?”
He looked at her then, the last light of the sun catching in her hair. “When it’s with you.”
The spring festival soon came with laughter, dancing, and the scent of blooming flowers. Y/N had dragged him into the square despite his protests, her hand warm in his as she spun them into the crowd. The music was fast, the world around them a blur, but Lee only saw her—her flushed cheeks, the way she bit her lip when she laughed.
When the dancing ended, they stumbled out of the crowd, breathless. Lanterns glowed above them, flickering light casting golden patterns on her face. Without a word, she grabbed his hand and kissed him.
It was sudden, impulsive, her laughter still on her lips when she kissed him again.
“You’re trouble,” he murmured against her mouth.
She grinned. “Then why are you still here?”
Because I always am, he thought, but he only kissed her in response.
Summer turned to autumn, and as the leaves fell, so did the last of his resolve. He had to tell her. He owed her that much.
They sat by the fire in her family’s home, the warmth doing nothing for the chill in his bones. Y/N watched him, something unreadable in her gaze, as if she already knew.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” he began. His hands clenched into fists. “Something about what I am.”
Y/N tilted her head. “You say that like you’re about to confess to murder.”
His silence stretched too long.
She blinked. “Lee?”
“I’m not human.” The words felt heavy, final. “I haven’t been for a long time.”
She studied him, quiet for a moment, before crossing her arms. “You’re not about to tell me you’re some kind of… what do they call them—creature of the night, are you?”
He let out a breath. “Something like that.”
To his utter shock, she only smirked. “You’re not going to start lurking in dark corners and calling me ‘mortal one,’ are you?”
He stared. “What?”
“I mean, if you start hissing at garlic, I might reconsider our whole relationship.”
Despite himself, he laughed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”
“But you love me.”
“Yes,” he said, softer this time. “I do.”
She reached for his hand, squeezing it. “Good. Because I know who you are now. And I don’t care.”
They spent that autumn wrapped in each other, in whispered words and secret smiles. She asked him endless questions—what it was like to live forever, if he had met kings, if he missed the taste of food.
“I don’t remember the taste,” he admitted one night, tracing patterns on her bare shoulder.
“That’s tragic,” she murmured. “I’d die if I couldn’t have honey cakes.”
He chuckled. “You say that as if you haven’t eaten five today.”
She gasped, shoving him playfully. “How dare you keep count?”
“I can’t help it. You get this look—like a fox that just stole from the henhouse.”
She laughed, burying her face against his chest. “Maybe in my next life, I’ll be a baker.”
He smiled, but the words sat heavy in his heart. There would always be a next life. And she would always leave him behind.
The winter was cruel.
She fell ill not long after the first snowfall. It started with a cough, then a fever that wouldn’t break. Lee tried everything; stole medicine, bribed healers, prayed to gods he didn’t believe in. Nothing worked.
He held her through the fevered nights, whispering stories she had loved, pressing cool clothes to her burning skin. He stayed when her strength faded, when her voice turned to a whisper.
One morning, just before dawn, she stirred. Her fingers curled weakly around his, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
“Lee?”
“I’m here.”
Her lips parted in the faintest of smiles. Her eyes softened, full of something deep, something knowing. “You’ll find me again,” she murmured.
Tears burned his eyes. He kissed her hand, pressing it to his cheek. “Always.”
And with a final, shuddering breath, she was gone.
Lee sat in silence, holding her long after her body turned cold.
The cycle would begin again. It always did.
And when it did, he would find her.
Because he always did.
It was the 1800s and in this life, she was a noblewoman.
Y/N.
Distant. Unreachable. A vision draped in silks and adorned with jewels, moving through candlelit halls as though she belonged to another world entirely. But Lee had seen her in every world, in every life. And even if she did not remember him, he knew her. He always did.
She was wed to another. A man of power, of wealth, of status. Someone safe. Someone human. Lee had seen him once, standing beside Y/N at a lavish banquet, fingers pressed possessively against the small of her back. It should have been him. It had always been him. But in this life, she did not belong to him.
So he watched from afar.
For months, he lingered in the shadows of her world, a ghost haunting the edges of candlelight. He caught glimpses of her in the garden at dusk, her face turned toward the dying sun. He listened to the sound of her laughter carried on the wind, a cruel reminder of all he had lost before. He kept his distance, even when the ache in his chest became unbearable.
And then he saw the bruises.
Dark, blooming things hidden beneath the high collar of her gown. The way she flinched when her husband reached for her at the next banquet. The hollow look in her eyes that had never been there before.
Lee had always told himself he would never interfere. That she deserved to live these lives as they came, untouched by the monster that lurked in the dark.
But this time, he couldn’t stay away.
He followed the man through the winding streets of the city, footsteps silent on the cobblestone. The nobleman was drunk, swaying as he staggered down a deserted alley, humming a tune that grated on Lee’s nerves. He reeked of wine, of expensive perfume, of cruelty. The kind of man who took pleasure in his power. The kind of man who believed himself untouchable.
Lee stepped out of the shadows.
"Who’s there?" the nobleman slurred, squinting into the darkness.
Lee didn’t speak. He let the silence stretch, watching as unease flickered across the man’s face. Then he moved.
It was over in seconds. A hand around the nobleman's throat, squeezing just hard enough to feel his pulse thrumming beneath his fingers. The man barely had time to gasp before Lee struck, fangs piercing flesh, warm blood spilling over his tongue. It had been so long since he had fed. He had denied himself for so long.
But this kill was not for hunger.
It was for her.
When the man finally went limp, Lee let his body crumple to the ground, blood staining the stone beneath them. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, but the coppery taste lingered. The taste of vengeance. Of justice.
Then he looked up—and saw her.
Y/N stood at the mouth of the alley, candlelight from the street casting a golden halo around her. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes locked on the lifeless body at Lee’s feet. Then, slowly, she met his gaze.
"You killed him," she murmured.
Lee swallowed, his throat thick with something he couldn’t name. "He hurt you."
She stepped closer, unafraid. "You’re dangerous."
"I am."
She should have run. She should have screamed for the guards. Instead, she looked down at the man who had tormented her for months, the man she had been forced to smile for, to obey, to endure. And then she exhaled a long, shuddering breath, as if some unseen weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
When she looked back at Lee, her eyes were softer. "But you’ve saved me more times than I can count."
Weeks passed, and the rumors of her husband's mysterious disappearance faded into whispers. Y/N remained in the estate, and Lee remained in the shadows, always near, never too far. But this time, he did not watch from a distance.
One evening, beneath a sky heavy with rain, she found him waiting on the balcony of her chambers. The city stretched below them, lanterns flickering against the darkness. The air smelled of wet stone, of lavender, of her.
She stepped closer, the silk of her nightgown whispering against the cool night air. "You always find me."
"Always."
She reached for him then, fingers tracing the curve of his jaw, as if memorizing him for the first time. And then, slowly, deliberately, she kissed him.
It was not rushed, not desperate like their first kisses in other lives. It was steady, filled with understanding. As if she had known him for years rather than weeks. As if, deep down, she had always known.
Lee stayed with her.
As the years passed, he remained by her side, a silent guardian in a world that did not know what he was. He held her at night, pressing kisses to her skin as she murmured dreams of other lives. He traced the lines of her face, memorizing every expression, knowing one day, he would lose her again.
And when time finally caught up to her, when the silver in her hair outnumbered the gold, he never left.
He sat at her bedside when she grew frail, holding her hand, whispering stories from their past. Some she remembered. Some she did not. But she listened all the same, her fingers curled around his, as if afraid to let go.
One night, as the fire burned low in the hearth, she turned to him, eyes heavy with sleep. "Will you find me again?"
Lee pressed his lips to her knuckles, breathing in the last traces of her warmth. "Always."
And when she passed, he kissed her brow one final time before slipping away into the night, the cycle beginning once more.
It was now the 21st century and Lee hadn’t meant to talk to her. He had spent months ensuring that their paths never truly crossed, keeping his distance like he always did.
But fate had a cruel sense of humor.
It was late, the city washed in a misty drizzle, the glow of neon signs reflecting off the wet pavement. He had been trailing her like always, keeping a careful distance.
Then, without warning, she turned around.
Lee barely had time to react before she was standing before him, eyes bright with something unreadable.
“Hello, Lee.”
His breath caught.
No.
She couldn’t have just—
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
The world tilted.
It took everything in him to stay still, to keep his expression unreadable even as his mind reeled. His name. She had said his name.
She remembered.
For centuries, it had been the other way around—him searching, him finding, him remembering while she moved through life unaware of their past.
But now…
Now, she was the one who had been looking for him.
Lee’s pulse pounded in his ears, though he knew it was just a phantom sensation, a habit leftover from when he had been human.
He forced himself to meet her gaze, searching for some sign that he had misheard. That this was just some cruel coincidence.
But her expression held no doubt. No hesitation. Only quiet certainty.
She knew him.
Truly knew him.
“Say something,” she teased, tilting her head. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
He let out a shaky breath, barely managing a smirk. “Funny. That’s usually my line.”
Her lips quivered in amusement, but her eyes remained steady, waiting.
“How?” Lee finally asked, voice hoarse. “How do you remember?”
She hummed, crossing her arms. “Not all at once. It started as dreams—flashes of things that didn’t belong to this life. You were always there, though.” She smiled softly, like she had finally solved a puzzle that had been plaguing her for years. “Your face was the clearest thing.”
He couldn’t breathe.
For so long, he had carried their past alone. Shouldered the weight of lifetimes of love and loss, knowing she would never share the burden.
But now…
Now, she was standing in front of him, looking at him like she had been waiting for him just as desperately as he had been waiting for her.
“You were watching me,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence. “Every night. Weren’t you?”
Lee stiffened.
Caught.
He should lie. Should tell her she was mistaken. But what was the point? She already knew.
“Yes,” he admitted. “I was.”
She didn’t look surprised.
“Why?”
Lee swallowed, debating how much of the truth he was willing to give her.
Because I couldn’t help myself. Because I’ve lost you too many times. Because I swore I wouldn’t get close, and yet I can’t seem to let you go.
Instead, he settled for, “Old habits die hard.”
Her gaze softened, seeing right through him.
Lee hated how easily she had always been able to do that.
“Will you keep running?” she asked.
The question settled between them, heavy and unspoken for far too long.
Lee had run for centuries—run from getting too close, from the pain of losing her, from the cruel hand of fate that always wrenched them apart.
But this time was different.
This time, she remembered.
And she had been the one searching for him.
He exhaled slowly. “I don’t know.”
Y/N reached out then, her fingers curling around his in a way that felt so natural, so achingly familiar, that it nearly unraveled him.
“Then let me find you,” she said, her grip steady. “For once, let me be the one who stays.”
Lee looked down at their joined hands, at the warmth seeping into his skin.
For the first time in lifetimes, she wasn’t slipping away.
And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to let go.
E3 WITH FEM READER X WONKA PLEASE OMGG
A bit of love and chocolate
Willy shares his last piece of chocolate.
Willy Wonka x Fem! reader
word count: 670
no warnings
masterlist, Wonka Masterlist
The streets of the city were quiet at this hour, save for the distant sounds of late-night travelers and the occasional splash of rain against the cobblestone roads. The glow of lamplight flickered against the damp pavement, casting golden reflections that made everything feel just a bit more magical—at least, that’s how it felt whenever he was with you.
Wrapped in a slightly tattered coat and clutching a small paper bag, Willy hurried down the alleyway, his breath clouding in the cool night air. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure he hadn’t been followed. Mrs. Scrubbit had already caught him sneaking out once before, and he couldn’t afford to be locked in the attic again. But seeing you—just for a little while—was worth any risk.
When he finally reached the side street where you always met, he saw you waiting on the worn steps of your small flat, arms tucked around yourself for warmth. The sight made his heart do that funny little leap it always did whenever you were near.
“Miss me?” Willy called softly as he stepped into the light.
You turned, your face lighting up at the sight of him. “You’re going to get yourself in trouble sneaking out like this.”
“Ah, but what’s life without a little danger?” he teased, plopping down beside you.
You shook your head with a fond smile. “One day, she’s going to catch you.”
“She’d have to be quicker than me.” He tapped his temple. “And I’m very fast when properly motivated.”
You huffed a laugh, nudging him with your shoulder. “And what motivates you, exactly?”
“Well…” He grinned, reaching into the paper bag. “Chocolate, mostly.” He pulled out a small, neatly wrapped piece and handed it to you.
You raised an eyebrow. “Willy, that’s—”
“My last piece, I know,” he interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. “And I’m giving it to you, because—” He turned to you, eyes warm, voice softer now. “That’s love.”
You stared at him for a long moment, the teasing edge in your expression melting away. The words were spoken so easily as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and maybe to him, it was.
You took the chocolate from his hand carefully, as if it were something delicate, something precious. “You really are something else, Wonka,” you murmured.
“I like to think so.” He leaned in a little, resting his chin in his palm as he watched you with bright, expectant eyes. “Go on, try it! It’s a new batch. Made it myself, of course—top-tier craftsmanship, a hint of cinnamon, a whisper of nutmeg, and just the tiniest bit of longing.”
You laughed, shaking your head, but did as he asked. The moment the chocolate melted on your tongue, you sighed in contentment. “That’s incredible,” you admitted.
Willy beamed, rocking back on his heels. “I knew it! Love makes everything sweeter.”
“Or maybe you’re just that good,” you mused.
“Both!” he declared, pointing a finger in the air. “But mostly the first one.”
You rolled your eyes fondly, but then your smile softened. “Thank you, Willy.”
His expression turned a little sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I was planning on savoring it, but then I figured… I’d rather you have it.”
Warmth spread through your chest, and before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. He froze for a second, then blinked at you, stunned.
“Goodnight, Willy,” you whispered, standing up before he could say anything else.
He remained seated, mouth slightly open, before breaking into the biggest, goofiest grin you’d ever seen. “Goodnight, dearest,” he called after you as you disappeared inside.
Still grinning, Willy touched his cheek where you kissed him, then got to his feet, adjusting his coat. He had to get back before Mrs. Scrubbit noticed his absence, but somehow, sneaking back through the laundry chute didn’t seem like such a hardship tonight.
After all, he had something even sweeter than chocolate to dream about.
Glasses !
SUMMARY: Y/N and Regulus take Harry to get glasses after he bumps straight into the door frame.
[Regulus Black x Fem Potter! reader]
warnings: Fluff, slightly humorous
words: 0.6k
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It started with small things.
Harry missing his cup when reaching for his pumpkin juice at breakfast. Squinting at his books when Y/N or Regulus tried to get him to read. Tripping over his own feet more often than usual. At first, they thought it was just clumsiness—he was four, after all.
Then he walked straight into the doorframe.
Regulus, who had been sipping his tea, barely blinked as Harry let out a small oof and stumbled backward, rubbing his forehead. Y/N, however, immediately crouched down beside him.
“Harry, love, are you alright?” she asked, brushing his messy hair away to check for any bumps.
Harry pouted, rubbing his forehead. “The door moved.”
Regulus raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “No, it didn’t.”
Harry crossed his arms. “Well, it felt like it did.”
Y/N hummed, glancing at Regulus before looking back at Harry. “Sweetheart, have you been having trouble seeing things lately?”
Harry shrugged. “I dunno.”
Regulus sighed, setting down his tea. “I think we need to take him to the eye healer.”
Harry’s eyes widened in alarm. “A what?”
Y/N chuckled, adjusting her own glasses. “Someone who helps people see better. Like how I wear glasses, remember?”
Harry blinked, looking up at her. “Oh… but you look good in glasses.”
Y/N grinned. “And you will too if you need them.”
Harry frowned but didn’t argue.
The next day, after breakfast (which involved Sirius trying to convince Harry to wear an eyepatch instead of glasses because it was ‘cooler’), they made their way to St. Mungo’s Department of Magical Vision and Sight.
Harry swung his legs idly from his chair in the waiting area, glancing at Y/N. “Did you have to get glasses when you were little too?”
She smiled. “I did. I was about your age when my mum took me for my first pair.”
Harry considered this. “Did Daddy James wear them too?”
Y/N’s smile softened. “Yes, he did. Since he was a boy.”
Harry looked thoughtful. “Maybe I should get glasses… then I’ll match you and Daddy James.”
Regulus snorted. “As if you had a choice.”
Before Harry could respond, the healer called them in.
The eye healer, an older wizard with kind eyes, greeted them warmly. “Alright, young man, let’s see how those eyes are working.”
Harry went through a series of tests, from reading different-sized letters to following a floating quill with his eyes. He giggled when the quill changed colors but frowned when he struggled with some of the smaller letters.
After a few more checks, Healer Aldwyn nodded. “Well, my boy, you’re a bit nearsighted. Not too bad, but you’ll need some glasses to help you see clearly.”
Harry gasped. “Like Mama?”
Y/N smiled. “Just like me, love.”
Harry beamed. “Then I want glasses!”
At the attached vision shop, Harry tried on several pairs, wrinkling his nose at most of them.
“These,” he finally said, grabbing a pair of small, round frames. “They look like Mama’s, but smaller!”
Y/N’s heart melted. “Oh, love, you look adorable.”
Regulus smirked. “Now he just needs to start losing all of his books like you do.”
Y/N rolled her eyes and nudged him playfully.
As they walked out, Harry kept adjusting his glasses, looking around in amazement. “I can see so much! Look, Baba! The clouds are so fluffy! And the sign isn’t blurry anymore!”
Regulus smirked. “That is the point of glasses, Harry.”
Harry grinned up at Y/N. “We match now, Mama!”
Y/N ruffled his hair. “Yes, we do, love.”
Regulus glanced between them, then sighed. “Great. Now there are two of you.”
Y/N smirked. “Poor you.”
Harry giggled, and the three of them headed home—where Sirius, upon seeing Harry’s glasses, dramatically clutched his chest and declared, “MY GODSON LOOKS JUST LIKE JAMES! I’M HAVING AN EMOTIONAL CRISIS!” before proceeding to chase Harry around the house yelling, “NERD ALERT!”
Regulus groaned. Y/N laughed.
And Harry?
He just felt pretty cool.
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