reg + timmy + paul

They were surprised to find out you were from the UK. Well, one was. The other smiled and said Jacob had mentioned he’d hired a baker from his homelands. 

Jacob was with his wife, Queenie, who you’d only had the pleasure of meeting twice. Once on the day of your interview – she helped you nail it. And once when Mr Kowalski had worked late and even you had struggled to kick him out of the kitchen. 

You served them their pastries with a smile and told them, if they could wait a couple minutes, you could use the phone in the back and call Mr Kowalski. They had agreed and thanked you. 

However, just as you finally got through to Mr Kowalski’s home and managed to mention the names ‘Newt’ and ‘Theseus’, he shouted down the phone in excitement, called for his wife and then hung up. 

“He said he’ll be here within ten minutes-” 

Your sentence had fallen through when you walked back into the shop front and felt an intense atmosphere settle into your bones. Newt and Theseus were slowly standing from the small waiting counter, making their movements as quiet as they could. 

Meanwhile, there were three customers seemingly looking around the bakery. They set you on edge a little, but rather than rush the moment, you tried to act as normal as possible. 

“Can I help you gentlemen?”

The three men looked towards you and, unlike the smiles of Newt and Theseus, theirs set you on edge. “I’ve heard these are excellent pastries.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Perhaps there’s some more in the back? Perhaps a fresh dozen?”

You looked to Newt and Theseus who subtly nodded. But, as you were about to agree and move to check, you heard a chime from the back door. To which, no voice of happiness followed. 

It wasn’t Jacob or Queenie. 

“Actually, sir, we were just about to close for lunch. And those pastries aren’t the freshest. Perhaps you can come back later?”

“I don’t think so, doll.”

Suddenly, there was a flash of light and a loud crash. Pastries flew everywhere. You weren’t exactly sure what was happening, but as a guy held up a…wand? You reached for the hot skillet, covering the handle with a tea towel, and hit the fourth guy with it. 

He screamed in pain as the hot, fresh jam seared through his skin. 

You ducked as he yelled something and a bright light came from his wand. You swung the pan at him again and the wand fell from his hand, snapping in two under your heel. 

“Get down!” Theseus yelled and, somehow, you knew it was aimed at you. 

So you did. 

A moment later, the jam-guy fell to the floor as if he’d been frozen in time. 

Standing back up, you watched as more lights zipped around the bakery; breaking glass, exploding pastries, staining the walls. 

You were left on your own as one of the other men started firing at Theseus, whilst another did the same to Newt. 

The third was left, trying to sneak up and help the first. So, you took your chance. 

With a swift hit, you knocked out Guy 3 with the skillet. Guy 1 paused for a moment and Theseus took his opportunity; just before you were hit with a streak of light, Guy 1 was sent out into the street and, finally, Guy 2 fled. 

Both yourself, Theseus and Newt walked to the broken window to see Guy 2 land beside 1 just before they turned into…dust? And floated into the air and fled the scene entirely. 

“Nice swing,” Theseus complimented as he turned and looked at you. 

You were shocked, to say the least. Tired and…shocked. 

“Thanks.” You took a breath. “Want to tell me what the hell all that was about?”

Before either of them could answer, Jacob and Queenie slowly walked past before walking through the door. 

“What…”

Newt smiled before rushing over and hugging both Jacob and Queenie who smiled at seeing him, but looked worried for the bakery. 

That was when you watched Queenie and Theseus magically set everything back into place as if nothing had ever happened. Meanwhile, you walked into the back and found Guy 4 still covered in jam and frozen in place. 

“Oh, my god.” Mr Kowalski said as he stood beside you. 

“Oh, my!” Queenie covered her mouth. 

“What happened?”

You held up the skillet. “I, uhh, hit him.”

Behind both of you, Theseus chuckled. “She’s quite lethal with that thing.”

“You okay, sweetie?” Queenie asked you, touching your upper arm. 

You nodded, “Yeah. But I’ve got a lot of questions, though.”

“Naturally,” she nodded. “How about we all take a seat and…talk?”

That was how you found out that magic was real. Witches, wizards, magic schools, spells, enchantments, mind reading, all of it. All of it was real. 

And you’d just saved the Head of the British Auror office with a rather hot skillet of jam. 

And it wouldn’t be the only time in the following three weeks. 

There was a growing battle to find some ex-lover of a Professor at Hogwarts which was a school for witches and wizards from the UK. He was an incredibly bad man and it was only a matter of time before things all went to shit; like World War shit. 

It was determined after two days that the safest place for both Jacob and Queenie was Hogwarts and its surrounding grounds. And, considering you’d saved Theseus’ life, and managed to accept the whole Witches and Wizards’ thing pretty quickly, you were brought along, too. 

Which turned out to be a pretty good decision. 

More than one bakery-like battle took place and, whilst you were only a ‘muggle’, you were also only just a muggle. It meant you were underestimated and managed to fool at least two random supporters of Grindlewald’s into believing they’d walked into the wrong store. 

Sadly, your picture was also connected to Dumbledore supporters so then you were also hunted by Grindlewald’s people, eventually. 

After three weeks, things were still headed in a terrible direction, but small parts of hope still lived on. 

The last battle had just taken place inside of Abaforth’s pub. Chairs and tables were being put back together around you, Abaforth, Dumbledore, Newt and Tina (his partner and also head of the American Auror office) were talking quietly in the corner. 

Jacob and Queenie were in the kitchens, making food for everyone which Abaforth had reluctantly agreed to, meanwhile you were cleaning Theseus’ wounds. 

“I suppose you’ll live,” you said, placing the cap back on the healing balm you always carried with you. 

Being a baker meant a lot of sauce burns and a couple of scrapes to your hands. So, after the sixth time, you’d decided to make your own balm. It was much cheaper than buying it. 

“Honey?” He asked, recognising the smell. 

You nodded, pocketing the balm. “And yarrow. Excellent for healing and preventing infection.”

Theseus smiled. “Thank you.”

“Always happy to help.”

Suddenly, Abaforth appeared beside both of you and the room between yourself and Theseus expanded as you both leaned back. Abaforth, watching both of you with judgement – though you wondered if that was just his expression – reached for the bowl and cloth of warm water. 

“Are you sure you’re not a witch?” He asked you. 

You shook your head as Theseus chuckled. “I’ve asked her the same thing, but she says no.”

Abaforth grunted before walking away. 

Theseus moved close to you as Abaforth walked away, except, before he could say anything, Dumbledore called you both over and gave you, Jacob and Queenie a proposition. 

Move to England. And open a chain. 

“You’d be much safer closer to Hogwarts and we can keep you protected.”

“Of course, MCUSA can protect you in the States, but Professor Dumbledore is right. Hogwarts might just be the safest place.”

It only took Jacob a few moments to decide. Hogwarts was safe, but his home was in New York. 

But a chain wasn’t a bad idea. 

A month later, you found yourself running the second location of Kowalski’s bakery in Hogsmeade. 

And, despite the distance of his office from London to Scotland, you had one very regular customer. 

It had taken some getting used to, having people appear at the fireplace in the waiting area of the bakery, just between the to-go bags and fresh danishes. 

But, apparently news of some excellent bakery items had travelled rather quickly. 

You’d been running the place for just half a year when one evening as you were cleaning up, you heard the familiar woosh come from the hearth in the front of the bakery. 

“I’ll be with you in just a second!” You called out. “But you should know the fresh produce of today is gone! We only have– Theseus.”

There he stood, broad and tall, with a polite look on his face. “Hello.”

“Hello,” you replied. He seemed nervous. 

“Hi.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “You said that already.”

“Oh, right. Yes, I did, didn’t I?”

“Is there something I can help you with? I’m afraid we’re all out of breakfast pastries.”

Theseus chuckled and shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. Okay, he was definitely nervous. 

“Yes, I-I gathered that. Actually, I’m here…well, I’m here to ask you…you see–”

“Oh, just spit it out.”

“I was wondering if you’d accompany me to dinner?” The question he asked came out rather quickly and loudly, which he seemed to be shocked by himself. “Sorry, I was…I was wondering if you would like to join me for dinner as a…date?”

For a while, you stood in silence watching him. 

Over the last nine months, you’d come to learn a lot about Theseus. And you wouldn’t mind knowing more. 

“Okay.” 

He seemed rather shocked you’d responded. “Okay?”

You nodded with a small smile. “Okay.”

Then he smiled. “Okay! Okay, great! Does 7 o’clock tomorrow work?”

You nodded. “It does.”

“Great! Fantastic!”

Rather than leave, however, he still remained inside the shop. You smiled, “Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?”

“What? Oh, uhh,” he chuckled, again. “No, not right now. I-I should probably…go.”

You watched him in an excited tizzy that he couldn’t even start to hide. “Theseus?”

“Yes?” He nearly banged his head on the mantel of the fireplace. 

“I’ve made some stew,” you said, suddenly nervous yourself. “I know it’s not the dinner you were expecting and not date-like but if you’d like to stay…” You paused for a brief moment, correcting yourself. “I’d like you to stay…if you wish for dinner.”

Theseus smiled once more. “I’d like that.”

You smiled, thankful he agreed. “Great.”

That evening, things truly changed between you and Theseus. You were no longer just friends, thrust together in a fight you hadn’t even known was building. You were…a pair. 

A pair of people that shared a simple meal and talked. And would do the same thing tomorrow, and the next day, and the next and…

“Think we set a trend, honey?” Queenie asked her husband as she fixed his tie. 

Grindelwald was still on the run, but after going through so much pain, fear and terror; hope was needed. 

Yourself and Theseus had planned on waiting until things were over before you decided to set a date to get married. But after two more pans were destroyed when you knocked out another group of avid Grindelwald followers, you both decided there was no time like the present. 

Things were calm, for now. 

You’re standing just inside the threshold, robes still creased from sleep, dust on your sleeves from the wind outside.

You had come looking for him — for a quiet moment, maybe, or just the comfort of his voice. But instead you walk into a ring of cold-faced commanders, a daughter of an empire gleaming like forged metal at his side, and Paul, standing at the center of it all like a man carved from stone.

Your heart folds before he even speaks.

The room feels too warm. Or maybe it’s you — heat rising up your neck like shame, like fear, like grief not yet formed.

You stand perfectly still, because you know if you move, something will shatter.

And then you hear it.

“I’ll marry Irulan.”

His voice is calm. Detached.

Like he’s stating strategy.

Like he’s not carving a hole into your chest with every syllable.

You don’t wait to hear the rest.

You don’t want to see if he glances at you when he says it.

You don’t want to know if he meant for you to hear.

You turn. You leave.

You slip out beneath the heavy flap of the tent and into the open night like a breath escaping a dying body.

And then—

You run.

The wind hits you first — sharp and angry, dragging sand across your skin like claws.

The air is dry and violent, howling against the rocks like it’s furious on your behalf.

You trip slightly on the edge of a dune, catching yourself on your hands, the sand biting into your palms. But you don’t stop. You don’t even wipe the tears from your cheeks. They’re mixing with dust now — hot and salt-heavy and blinding.

Your robe whips around your legs as you move, the fabric catching in the wind like it wants to drag you backward, like even the desert is trying to stop you from leaving him.

Your feet sink into the loose sand, stumbling over ridges and stones. The land here is endless. Barren. Beautiful in its cruelty.

And still — you run.

Behind you, there’s a sound.

The tent flap slaps against the wind.

Then — boots pounding the sand.

And his voice, cutting through the storm:

“Wait—please.”

But you don’t.

Not when your lungs are burning. Not when your whole body is screaming don’t you dare look back.

Still, he chases you. Of course he does.

He always comes when it’s too late.

He reaches you just as your knees threaten to give out —

just as the wind reaches a new pitch, shrieking across the dunes like it’s trying to tear the world apart.

“Stop,” he says, breathless.

You spin to face him, eyes wild and rimmed with sand-smeared tears.

“You’re marrying her.”

It doesn’t come out soft. It tears itself out of your mouth like it doesn’t want to be held in anymore.

He blinks, caught. His mouth parts like he wants to lie — to reframe it — but he doesn’t.

“I have to,” he says instead. Quiet. Measured.

Like that makes it better.

Your laugh is sharp and broken. “No. You want to.”

He flinches. And you don’t let him look away.

“You already have power, Paul. You already won. You have the empire, the prophecy, the people. You didn’t need to do this.”

he takes a step towards you, carefull, like you're something fragile.

“I did it for the future.”

“No.” Your voice rises, the wind rushing in behind it. “You did it for control. You did it because the throne wasn’t enough. You want her bloodline, her name, her legacy. You want to own everything.”

Something dark flickers in his eyes — not anger, not quite. Something worse. Justification.

That horrible, steady confidence that only comes from believing your own myth.

“I didn’t understand what this path would take from me,” he says.

You take a step back, your foot slipping in the sand.

“Oh,” you breathe. “So you were naive. You were foolish when you said you loved me.”

His jaw tightens. “No.”

“Then what?” Your voice breaks, finally. “What was I?”

He doesn’t answer right away. The wind gusts, hard enough to make you stagger.

Then—his voice again.

Not loud. Not cruel.

Just certain.

"stay."

And this time it isn’t just a plea.

It’s the Voice.

It sinks into your bones, stilling you.

Your breath catches. Your legs freeze. You hate how easily it happens — how quickly your body obeys.

He steps closer, looking ruined. “Please. Don’t go.”

But you don’t look at him. You’re staring out at the horizon, at the endless expanse of sand that could take you anywhere but here.

And still — you stay. Because he told you to.

Because he made you.

And that’s worse than anything else.

.

Time passes.

Not in days or months. Not in anything you can count.

It passes in moments you don’t remember choosing.

You live in the royal wing now — carved in white stone, where the ceilings echo with silence and the floors are too polished to feel real beneath your feet.

They dress you in silk now. Gold bracelets that you don’t remember asking for. Perfume that clings to your skin like a name you forgot how to say.

You never ask questions.

You don’t need to.

He tells you when to speak. When to smile. When to follow.

And you do.

Because when he uses the Voice — that impossible, low timbre threaded with command — your body obeys before your heart can catch up.

Because that’s what you are now: a creature of response, not desire.

He’s never cruel to you. Not really.

He still touches your cheek sometimes like you’re precious. Still looks at you like there’s some version of you he remembers.

But it’s a hollow thing now. A memory of love pretending it’s still alive.

You sit beside him at court, quiet and lovely and always one word away from motion.

The princess sits on his other side — radiant and cold, untouched.

The world sees a golden throne, a perfect empire.

No one sees the ghost sitting just beneath it.

At night, you lie in silk sheets, facing away from him.

Sometimes he speaks your name softly, as if it might still mean something.

Sometimes he doesn’t speak at all.

And on the worst nights — the ones where you almost remember how to want something — he uses the Voice again.

“Stay.”

“Come here.”

“Don’t cry.”

And you don’t.

Because he tells you not to.

“Timmy are you ready yet?” You shouted from your couch, scrolling on your phone. You signed deeply slightly annoyed with your roommate. You two had plans and he was going to make you late.

“Timothee,” you shouted again.

“Calm down. Calm down,” he said, jogging down the stairs, jumping over the back of the sofa, and sitting down next to you. “I’m here. Why are you so anxious today,” he said, leaning over your shoulder trying to see who you were texting.

Shoving his face away you grinned at your text before putting your phone in your pocket and glaring at your best friend. “We have lunch plans do you not remember?” you said crossing your arms.

Timmy smiled sheepishly and tugged on your arm around you give in and let him wrap your arm around him. “I’m sorry. I was showering and planning on what we are doing after, lunch with your friend.”

Rolling your eyes at his adorableness, you stood up and pulled him out of the apartment. “We aren’t going to lunch with my friend, we are having lunch with Robert,” you said, as you two made your way towards the subway.

“Yeah… Robert… your friend, right?” He asked.

“My boyfriend,” you corrected.

His eyes widened and he stopped walking. You raised an eyebrow and stopped and stared at him. “What? Timmy come one, we are going to miss the train.”

“Boyfriend? W-when did you two start dating?”

“A few weeks ago, I told you. Remember, we went out and he kissed me. And I’ve been hanging out with him. Did you forget mister movie star?” you teased. He was out of town filming a movie across the world when it happened.

You and Timmy have been friends for years. You two met in middle school and been best friends ever since. You were supportive of his career, and he was supportive of yours and the two of you were still roommates even thought you both could afford to live on your own.

Timmy was still staring at you with an odd expression on his face. “So… you two are dating?”

You groaned, linking your arms again and pulling him into the subway. “Yes, we are dating. That’s why I want you two to meet. My bestie and my boyfriend. And please be nice. You are always so rude to my boyfriends,” you say as you two squeeze into a cart.

“Oh. Umm yeah, I’ll be nice,” he said distracted and looking away from you.

You frowned and bumped hip with him. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” he shook his head before shooting you a fake smile. “I’m fine.”

When you got off the train and outside the station you couldn’t help but smile when you saw your boyfriend. You let go of Timmy and run over to him, hugging him tightly. Robert grin and hug you tightly, pulling back to kiss your forehead.

“You look beautiful,” he said, smiling down at you.

You flushed and pecked his chin. “You look lovely as well. Come meet, Tim,” you said, turning around seeing your best friend just standing there with his hands in his pockets. You frowned, waving him over.

Timmy slowly made his way over to you both and you smiled at them. “Rob, this is Timothee, and Timothee, Rob.”

Robert held out his hand and you saw something flash in Timmy’s eyes, something sharp and unsettling, but it was gone before you can identify it. He took Robert’s hand and shook it once before letting it go. Things were awkward and you shot Timmy a confused look, but he didn’t meet your eyes.

“So, you are the Timmy,” Robert said with a grin trying to cut the tension. “She talks about you all the time.”

“Does she?” Timmy said, his voice light but with a noticeable tightness to it. He glanced over you. “Funny. She doesn’t talk about you much.”

You gasped and your eyes widen. “Timmy—”

“I’m joking,” he said quickly, laughing. “She does… sort of.”

You laughed awkwardly as you glared at him, before turning to Robert. “Let’s go get a table,” you suggested, glancing back at Timmy.

He ignored your look and walked towards the restaurant, holding the door open for you and glaring at Robert when you go in and let the door close on him. Timmy fake gasped and grab the door when you turn around.

“Sorry about that Richard,” he said. “The door slipped.”

You laugh again having no idea what to do. “Robert why don’t you get a table. I just remember I need to talk to Timmy about something,”

Robert looks at Timmy confused for a moment before nodding and going over to the host. When he was led towards a table you pinched Timmy’s arm.

“Ouch, what was that for?” He said, rubbing his arm.

“Are you serious? Timmy you are being so rude to Robert. What the hell?”

“Was I?” He asked.

“You know damn well you are being weird. Stop it. I told you to be nice,” you said.

“Okay. Okay,” he said, walking towards the table with you close behind him.

You take a deep breath and make your way over to the table and sit down next to Robert. All throughout lunch Robert tried, genuinely, to include Timmy. And Timmy… he was polite, civil, charming even, but he was also distanced and was constantly pulling you into conversations that excluded Robert.

When you all finished, Robert paid as you stood outside with Timmy. His hand was in his pockets, and he was whistling and looking away from you. You were so upset with him that you couldn’t even look at him.

“So do you want to go see a film or something,” Timmy had the nerves to ask.

You scoff. “Really? That’s what you want to say to me.”

He looks at you then. “What? I thought we were going to spend the rest of the day together.”

You laughed. “Are you kidding me? Timmy, you’ve been so awful. I knew how important this was to me. Why have you been acting like this?”

“I don’t like him,” he said.

“Don’t like him? You’ve barely given him a chance.” You were confused. While Timmy never liked your boyfriends, he would at least give them a chance.

“That’s because I don’t like him,” he said with a huff.

“You are being ridiculous. He’s so lovely and I like him a lot,”

He looked back at the restaurant before looking at you. “He isn’t good enough for you.”

“Okay, you know what, I’m not doing this with you right now.” You said just as Robert came out.

He looked between the two of you. “Is everything okay?” he asked, wrapping his arm around you.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Timmy said, putting his hand on his shoulder and pulled you into his hold and away from Robert.

Robert blinked at you both and you moved out of Timmy’s hold. “Actually, everything isn’t fine,” you said. You grabbed Robert’s hand and turned sadly to look at Timmy. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I’ll see you back home later.”

“W-what? I thought we were going to hang out,” Timmy said frowning.

“I don’t want to get into this with you right now, Timmy. Can we please talk later.”

“Sure. Whatever, I’ll see you later,” Timmy said, walking away. You stared after him for a moment before turning to Robert.

“I’m so sorry about him, Rob. I don’t know why he has been acting like this. He gets overprotective sometimes, but not like this.”

Robert laughed and grabbed your hand. “He’s just jealous.”

You tilted your head. “Jealous? Just because we are dating, I’m not going to shove him out of my life,” you laughed as you two started walking.

“Babe, I didn’t mean like that. I think he’s into you,” he said.

“What? No. We’ve been friends forever. He isn’t into me like that. We are just bestie.”

He laughed. “Are you sure? Maybe it’s my own possessiveness then, but I got the vibe he was into you.” He said it so causal and moved on, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Was Timmy into you? He couldn’t be? Could him?

When you got home you were quiet as you came into the house. You couldn’t stop thinking about what Robert said. He was cool about it, but you weren’t sure if you were. You leaned against front door taking a deep breath.

Walking past the living room, you just wanted to go to your room and deal with whatever was going on with Timmy tomorrow. Of course, you weren’t lucky to be able to escape. The moment you walked past the living room, Timmy stood up from the sofa.

“You’re back. I thought you would be home sooner? Did you get my messages I texted you a few times. And I called.” He had the foresight to look at his feet when he spoke.

“Are you jealous of Robert?” You asked pointblank. You really didn’t want to beat around the bush. You two rarely fought and things were never awkward between the two of you, but now you wanted the ground to open up.

 “Jealous? Why would I be jealous?” He said, looking away from you.

You sighed and walked closer to him and stood in front of him. “I don’t know Timmy, you tell me.”

“I am not jealous. I just didn’t like him,” he said. He couldn’t look at you and sat on the sofa.

You rolled your eyes. You were not going to do this with him. Not again. He needed to give you a straight answer. “You didn’t even try to be get to know him, to talk to him.”

“Was I supposed to give him a friendship bracelet or something?” he snapped before his eyes widened.

You stared stunned at him. “Wow. Okay. Good night, Timmy.” You turned around and made toward your bedroom, but Timmy grabbed your wrist to stop you. You pulled away from him. “No, don’t touch me.”

He let go of you and rubs his face, exhaling hard. “Look… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap or upset you.”

“But you did. So, explain it to me right now.” You crossed your eyes and stared at him not giving him an out at all.

“Robert is just so perfect. He’s smart, he’s funny. I’m sure your parents will love him. And he’s got that ‘I’m not intimidated by Timothee Chalamet’ thing going on. He’s perfect for you. I’m happy for you. So happy for you. I look forward to the wedding day. Will I be a bridesmaid or will I be his groomsmen. He’s probably super kill with me being that. Not caring. And I can see your future now so perfect with perfect babies with your perfect husband,” he said breathing hard when he was finished.

“So, you’ve just planned my life with him. We’ve been dating for a few weeks for fuck sakes, Timothee.”

He could feel his throat closing up and he felt so stupid. “I-I.. I.. I’m sorry.”

“For what exactly?” you said softly.

He bit his lower lip and looked at the ground. “For being jealous.” He looked at you from under his lashes, his eyes softer than you expected. Sadder.

“You could have just told me,” you said moving closer to him and touching his arm gently.

“Tell you that I’m in love with you, tell you that I realize that when I was away and waiting for the perfect moment and then chicken out again and again and now it’s took late and I’m upset with myself, I’m jealous of Robert and now I’m making my mess your problem.”

The hallway was suddenly too quiet. You were too close to him. Your head was spinning, and you had no idea what to say to him. Of course, in your 20 plus year friendship you thought of Timmy romantically. You used to joke that one day you two would fall in love like a romcom, but now? You haven’t given it much thought of late.

“I don’t know what to say, Timmy. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. This is just… I’m sorry.” He sounded so tired and looked as if he was going to cry.

“I think we should.. I don’t know take a breather. This is a lot.”

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I think that’s best. Umm. Maybe I should go stay with Paul for a bit?”

“No, you don’t have to leave. I can go, maybe—” you paused as you looked at him. “Timmy, you mean the world to me. You know that right? I didn’t know about your feelings, I wish you told me.”

“I did too. I think me leaving is best. And before you fight me on it, I don’t think I could stay here while I work through… this.”

“This meaning your feelings for me.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement that you were still trying to wrap around in your mind.

He nodded awkwardly. “I’m just.. umm going to go pack,” he said, slowly walking back towards his room. You wanted to stop him, but it was for the best. Your friendship was… in a weird place right now and time apart will do you both some good.

Still, you went to sit on the sofa and waited for him to be done. He was a bit surprised to see you sitting and waiting for him, but he made sure to mask his expression which just heart your heart. You two never hid anything from each other.

You both stared at each other for a moment, letting the silence speak things neither one of you could say.

Taglist.

@mel-vaz

@gatoenlaciudad

@iloveneilperry

@s-we-e-t-t-ea

@robertpattins0nswh0re

@valencia-rou

@groovyqueer

@tchalamss

@daydreaming-peach

@wandasforyou

@creamsweets

@moon-poe

dylsyn my parents

chalsyn i love how she's a big bob dylan fan, and she's dating timmy who played bob dylan, and he comments bob dylan related things on her posts

y/n bob dylan

liked by tchalamet

ynscine she's so 💀

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- her touch blurs my vision

@chalametandynupdates just tweeted- Timothée and Y/n recently seen in Chicago!

@cineyn replied- THEYRE SO GENTLE W EACH OTHER PLSSS IMMA CRYY

@kylesballer replied- they're still so chill after all this time, mad respect

@paulsatreidyn replied- i love how real they seem, just a genuine couple. you don't see that so much nowadays. especially w celebrities

liked by y/n, ellefanning, oliviarodrigo and 3,277,288 others

tchalamet without you id be nowhere at all

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y/n 💀💀💀

acompleteyn bros ab to eat her in that first pic💀💀

ellefanning love being your third wheel

y/n and tchalamet liked

frenchdispatchtimmy THAT THIRD PIC IS SO CUTEEEEE

bioyn he takes the best pictures of her 🥺🫶

y/n i love you and i miss you

tchalamet liked

tchalamet come back already

fuxkyn can yall just text

tchalamet can you stfu literally no one was talking to you

cafeyn LMAOOOO i love that he still defends her

liked by tchalamet, rachelzegler and 2,278,388 others

y/n hmmm !!!

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ynslipgloss TOO PRETTY

tchalamet life don't mean a thing without you

liked by y/n

ynseyelashes ughhhh so jealous of her life

liked by y/n, tayrussell and 2,654,777 others

tchalamet a thousand miles apart, but you’re the one that holds my heart

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tambortim hes so soft when it comes to her 😭😭😭🫶🫶🫶

y/n please don't make me cry rn

timynstan awww they have polaroids of eachother 🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

liked by tchalamet, yourfriend and 2,377,388 others

y/n reunited💕

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tchalamet AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

tinydanceryn does he ever sing for you, or play the harmonica ?

y/n hell yes

liked by tchalamet

coloringyn LMAOO I would make him sing all my faves from his movies

y/n what do you think i do when he's home ??? hellooooo 🙄🙄

tchalamet ill do anything for you baby

teotfwyn bro he's such a simp for her i love it

lilyn and it's reciprocated too 😭😭

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- WOAHHHH

liked by y/n, florencepugh and 4,177,499 others

tchalamet what would i do if not for you ?

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y/n :(

zendaya yall are the cutest

sunshineyn i want what they have 💔💔

jokeyyn YALL ARE NASTY 😭😭😭

y/n hehe

y/n you're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me

Timothée Chalamet, sitting comfortably on a late-night talk show, was in the middle of one of his now-infamous animated interviews. His laughter filled the screen, infectious and boyish, and for a brief moment, you smiled, charmed by him like everyone else.

But then the question came.

"So, Timothée, who’s your celebrity crush?"

The audience whooped, the host leaned in with a knowing grin, and Timothée, trying to play it cool, gave a little shrug.

He hesitated, his fingers running through his tousled curls in that effortless way only he could pull off. And then, with a tiny, almost bashful smile, he said your name.

Your actual name.

You froze.

The host’s mouth fell open, clearly not expecting it. "Really? Her?"

Timothée’s cheeks flushed pink, but he nodded. "Yeah, I mean, she’s incredible. Just ridiculously talented, you know? And beautiful, obviously. But she just seems..." He trailed off, his hands moving as if to grab the words out of the air. "...Like, really cool. Smart. Genuine. I don’t know, there’s something about her."

You watched the clip in stunned silence, replaying it again. And again. And again.

The internet was already in flames. Tweets, TikToks, and Instagram edits were flooding your notifications. Fans were losing their minds. You didn’t even have time to process how you felt about it.

---

A Week Later: The Met Gala

The Met Gala red carpet was chaos in the best way. Flashing cameras, booming voices, and the rush of silk, sequins, and couture gowns swept around you. You moved down the carpet like you’d done a hundred times before—posing for photos, answering questions, and offering polite smiles to everyone who crossed your path.

But tonight was different. You could feel it.

The buzz in the air, the way reporters whispered to each other before approaching you. It wasn’t hard to figure out why.

“Has Timothée seen you yet?” a cheeky journalist asked as you posed, their microphone in your face.

You laughed it off, tilting your head. "I have no idea," you replied, trying to keep your voice light. "But I think that’s the question of the night, huh?"

You moved on quickly, your heart hammering in your chest. The thought of running into him tonight had lingered in the back of your mind all week, but now, as the moment seemed to inch closer, the reality of it hit you.

And then it happened.

You felt it before you saw him—the weight of his gaze. Turning slightly, your eyes met his, and everything else seemed to blur out of focus.

He looked... breathtaking. A perfectly tailored avant-garde suit hugged his lean frame, the kind only he could make look effortlessly cool. His hair was swept back just enough to still be messy, and his lips curled into a soft, almost shy smile as he walked toward you.

The cameras went berserk.

He stopped just a foot away, his eyes never leaving yours. "Hey," he said, his voice low and familiar, as though you weren’t surrounded by hundreds of people and a sea of flashing lights.

"Hey," you replied, your throat suddenly dry.

He hesitated, his hands tucked into his pockets as he glanced around. "So... I feel like I should apologize."

You raised an eyebrow, your lips tugging into a smile. "For what?"

"For accidentally turning your life into a circus," he said, his grin sheepish, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of red.

You laughed softly, the sound cutting through your nerves. "It’s fine. If anything, you gave my publicist a new hobby. Crisis management is her favorite thing."

His laugh was boyish and genuine, and for a moment, it was just the two of you.

"You really do look amazing," he said after a beat, his voice softer now. His eyes traced the intricate details of your gown like he wanted to memorize it.

"So do you," you replied, and then, feeling a little bold, you added, "Though I guess you don’t need me to tell you that."

He chuckled, shifting slightly closer. "Not true. Compliments mean a lot more when they’re coming from you."

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, and you were thankful for the dimmed lights that kept the moment from feeling too exposed.

Before either of you could say more, a handler appeared at Timothée’s side, gently reminding him he had to finish the carpet.

He glanced at them, then back at you, clearly reluctant to leave. "Guess I’ll see you inside?"

"Maybe," you teased.

As he turned to go, he shot you one last look over his shoulder, his eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite name. Excitement, maybe. Or curiosity.

And as the night wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over.

Regulus walked into his dorm room where you have spent more days than not for the past few months, and sighed defeatedly when all he finds there is Barty laying on top of Evan in some odd position that cannot possibly be comfortable.

“Hello to you too, Black. Thrilling to see you.” Barty’s voice was laced with sarcasm, but there was no menace there as of yet.

“Yeah, yeah,” Regulus grumbled as he threw his bookbag onto his bed and sat down. “You seen Y/N lately?”

“You mean since you were all snuggled up this morning? Nah.”

Regulus rolled his eyes painfully hard at his oldest friend, murmuring a soft sod off before tossing whatever was closest – his pyjama t-shirt – in Barty’s general direction, missing by a good metre. He is a seeker and not a chaser for a reason.

“What of it, Reg?” Evan mumbled, but it was distorted by Barty’s elbow being more or less shoved into his mouth. He could never sit still.

“Just figured she’d be here, ‘s all. She finished class before me.” Regulus falls down onto his bed, curls spilling onto the emerald sheets as he stares at the ceiling, picturing you there and then immediately kicking himself for being that down bad. Then reminding himself with the therapy-speech Sirius has been teaching him, love is a strength not a weakness, it’s good to feel your feelings. Yada yada. "It's been a long day."

“Maybe she got tired of your sorry ass.” Barty laughed at his own joke only to be smacked by Evan’s finally-freed hand.

“Or yours, you sod.”

“Nah, Treasure absolutely adores me.” Barty propped himself up to flash you both a grin. “See, unlike you, I’m fun.”

“Interesting word to substitute insufferable with.” Evan said, leaning his face up from underneath Barty, as if to intimidate him.

“You love me,” Barty drawled before kissing the blond soundly.

“Would you guys please stop flirting?” Regulus’ voice was closer to a groan than anything else. He pressed the backs of his hands to his eyes, seeing stars and thinking of you. Stupid poetic feelings.

“Just because you can’t keep track of your girl doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves.” Barty pointed an accusatory finger at Regulus. “I would classify that demand as rude.”

“Bite me.”

“Only if your girlfriend says yes.” This time it was Evan’s turn of tuning into Regulus’ torture.

“And she would.” Barty winks at him.

This time it’s a pillow Regulus throws at them, and it lands perfectly, smack in the middle of Barty’s face.

“Oi!” He calls as he throws it back. “Either you quit it, or you throw me your jumper, it’s freezing in here.”

“You’re literally in bed, Barty.” Regulus looks at him, unamused. “Just–”

He trails off, gaze falling from Barty to the wall behind him as he pieces the puzzle together and realisation dawns on his face. The other boys seem to have caught on as they both cock their heads curiously at him. 

“Of course,” Regulus whispers, first in marvel and then it morphs into something between exasperation and disgust. “Of course.” At last, he gets a determined look on his face, slapping his palms on his knees as he sits up from bed and grabs his jumper to go.

“Excuse you, what just happened?” Barty says, increasingly louder throughout his sentence as he realises Regulus is headed for the door, thick wool jumper tucked under his arm. “Hey!”

Regulus throws the boys a look over his shoulder, smirking at them and shaking his head before shutting the door and walking off. He barely catches Evan’s “shush, you baby, I’ll warm ya” before he is out of earshot.

A man with a purpose and half a plan stalks off, beginning the treacherous journey from the Slytherin dungeons to the Gryffindor dormitories.

What is the single thing Regulus knows can keep you from him when you’re otherwise attached at the hip? The cold.

What is the one person you go to for anything and everything, especially dealing with the cold? A certain ragged boy with a wolfish smile that he knows is to be found only behind the portrait of an increasingly annoying woman.

“Password?” The Fat Lady asked, quirking a brow ridiculously high as she regards Regulus with a mutual disgust.

“Catulus leonis.” Regulus does not bother holding back the eyeroll at the ridiculous passphrase.

She looks at him a moment or five longer than she needs, almost as if considering not letting him in despite his answer being perfectly correct, before she finally swings open the door wordlessly.

Regulus mutters a harsh thank you, Pureblood upbringing having knocked some politeness into him he is just not able to forego, no matter how severe his beef – as Sirius says – with the woman is.

When he finally approaches the offending dorm, the door opens fast enough to knock some wind across his face, and he is met with a set of black curls and a superfluous frown that both match his own.

“Regulus. Thank Merlin.”

“Good to see you too, Siri. How'd you know it was me?”

"Recognised your footsteps. Now, c'mon."

Regulus pushes in past his brother and his eyes immediately find Remus Lupin’s bed. To the unaware, it would just look like the scrawny boy was innocently laying on his bed, head propped against a mountain of pillows and reading another one of his paperbacks.

However, Regulus knew better and could see the perfect girlfriend-shaped lump underneath Remus’ jumper, shielded by his arms as he held his book over his stomach.

Or, at least shaped like this rather specific form of his girlfriend.

“Hello, amour, I’ve been looking for you.” Regulus’ voice is addressed to the bump on Remus’ chest, but he looks up at him with a quirked brow and a smug smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Didn’t know we were on a pet name-basis, Reg. Good to know.” 

“Absolutely not.” Sirius and Regulus chorus at the exact same time, and Regulus fights back the wince at how painfully similar they are in this moment.

“Reggie,” Sirius finally whines. “Your girlfriend’s been stealing my boyfriend for the past two hours. Do something!”

Despite having a very similar sentiment settled in his own chest, Regulus gives his brother a pull yourself together look as he comes up to stand beside him, near the occupied bed. “I’m fairly certain your boyfriend has stolen my girlfriend equally as much,” he tuts.

“Whatever, just do something.” Sirius waves his hand towards Remus’ still very relaxed state with something a bit too close to a pout forming on his face.

“There’s no need to be jealous, Pads, the poor girl’s just cold,” Remus chides, with a teasing glint in his eye that clearly shows he knows his boyfriend is being dramatic for the bit and not actually upset. "Gotta help 'er out."

“‘M not jealous. I’m needy.” Sirius’ deadpan stare is not affected by Remus’ laughter nor Regulus’ barely-contained snort.

“Glad you admit it,” Regulus says slyly, patting Sirius on his shoulder twice, who immediately shrugs his hand off with a scowl.

“Like you’re any better, you slithered all the way up from the snake pit to fetch her. At least I’m open about it.”

Before Regulus has the chance to retort, Remus puts his book down in his lap and reaches out a hand for Sirius, which he immediately takes. “I told you you could come lay in the bed with us, love,” Remus murmurs and swipes his thumb over the back of Sirius’ hand.

If he did not feel the same way, Regulus would have given Sirius hell for how he seemed to absolutely soften in the sunlight of his boy. “Yeah, I know, Moons, I’m just being theatrical.”

Remus laughs once more, and this time his chest rumbling results in a distinct prrrt! coming from the inside of his jumper. Up through the collar, cheek smashed against Remus’, comes the tentative head of beautiful grey-and-white fur and slow-blinking yellow eyes, still riddled with sleep. 

“Good morning, amour,” Regulus coos, ignoring Sirius’ snort as he drops down to squat beside Remus’ bed so his face is lined up with yours.

You pur, stretching beneath the fabric, a single paw escaping beside your head through the collar as you roll over onto your back. Your eyes remained trained on Regulus, and though he knows cats can’t actually smile, he swears you were smiling at him.

“Sorry to wake you, princess,” Sirius drawls as he looks down at you from where he is leaning on the bedpost beside Remus. “But have you seeped up enough warmth for me to get my boyfriend back yet?”

You make a faux hissing sound before ducking your head down, so it’s just barely hidden by the collar.

Remus laughs heartily, setting his book completely away this time so his hand can come up to rest on your cat-form, petting you through his jumper. “It’s alright kitten, take your time.”

The exposed paw lightly hits Remus’ cheek in retaliation, and this time it is Sirius and Regulus’ turn to laugh at his expense. “Ow! I share my warmth with you and this is what I get in return?”

From the movement beneath the fabric, Regulus assumes you’re nuzzling your head against his chest in apology.

“Amour, I brought your favourite jumper of mine and promise to make you so much hot cocoa if I can steal you back. We can be in your dorm room instead of mine, it’s warmer in there, right?” A smile remains consistent on Regulus’ face as he talks to you.

Sirius pats him on the back, murmuring something about you’re so whipped that he doesn’t bother to pay attention to. 

More movement beneath the fabric, and then suddenly your ears are poking out of the neckline again – because why would you make it easy for yourself and use the big exit, when you can squeeze your way through a tight opening? You’re a cat after all.

Remus seems to be thinking the same as he laughs while you attempt to climb out beside his head, soft fur brushing against his skin and making up for the occasional claw you use for traction. 

Regulus attempts to bite back the coos as he sees more and more of you, recognising your movements as sluggish with sleep, no doubt coaxed into it by finally being comfortable.

“Thanks for today, see you again tomorrow, same time?” Remus teases, head turned towards you as you headbutt him lovingly, finally fully escaped from his jumper and standing on his shoulder. He nuzzles you back and scratches your head in goodbye.

Another prrrt! escapes you in greeting as you saunter your way across Remus and plop onto the small strip of mattress on his side where Regulus’ hands are open and ready to receive you. 

“Hi, sweetie,” he whispers as you allow him to scoop you up into his arms while he’s still squatting beside the bed. He holds you like an infant, tight to his body and securely supported. You immediately begin to purr loudly, nuzzling your head even further into his neck and shoulder.

Regulus does not bother to hold back the slight giggle as your caresses tickle him. 

“Good gods, are you two sappy,” Sirius groans, but when Regulus looks up, there is a wide grin on his face. A slightly teasing one admittedly, but a grin nonetheless.

Then, Regulus recognises where Sirius is grinning at him from – properly cuddled up besides Remus on the opposite side of the bed, arms beneath his jumper, soaking up the leftover warmth from you.

“Wait– how did you get there so fast?” Regulus’ voice is almost incredulous, stopping his greeting of you – earning him a harrumphing meow – to narrow his eyes at his brother. “I didn’t even notice you move from beside me.”

“What can I say; I am a dedicated man.” Sirius nuzzles into Remus’ cheek, not much unlike how you were mere seconds ago, albeit his involved a tad many more kisses.

“You’re weird, that’s what you are,” Regulus laughs as he stands up with you in his arms.

You turn around to look up at him with those big, slitted eyes of yours. When you extend your neck further towards his face, Regulus lifts you higher so you can give him the cat-kisses you so evidently wanted, his lips curling at your touch.

Sirius lifts a brow at the two of you. “Yeah. I’m the weird one.” 

Regulus scoffs at him, but when you continue to caress your furry cheeks against his lips and chin, it is difficult for any menace to remain serious.

“Thank you for your deviant supernatural warmth keeping my girlfriend alive, Lupin, but I’d like to steal her away from you now.” 

“By all means, Black, you’ve already stolen her from me once,” Remus harrumphs, pretending to be some scorned faux older brother but his eyes betray his facade; he is happy for you.

Regulus chooses to ignore it nonetheless.

“Brother.” He nods at Sirius. “Soon to be brother-in-law.” He nods at Remus. “We bid you goodnight.”

“Try not to undo all of Moony’s hard work by freezing her right back up with your freakishly cold feet!” Sirius calls after him as he heads towards the door. He then promptly gives out a soft yelp that indicates Remus corrected him in some physical way.

“Goodnight love, goodnight Reg,” Remus calls instead.

“Yeah, bye, doll!” Sirius adds, whispering more to himself, “he’s mine again now.”

You give out a tired meow that is so cute it makes Regulus’ heart clench with endearment. You cuddle properly up into the crook of his neck as he carries you out, softly closing the door behind him with a smile.

He shifts you in his grip so he can look down at you more carefully. “You are so unbelievably predictable. And even cuter than that again, which is saying something,” he murmurs to you and you respond with quiet meows.

He looks at you curiously. “Are you going to remain in cat form the whole night?”

Your tail twitches teasingly, your only other response is a quiet prrt as you close your eyes into the warmth of his neck again. He laughs, covering your feline body with his hands as he carries you, to keep the warmth in.

He sneaks into your dorm – thankfully often unoccupied as Marlene is with Dorcas and Mary is with Pandora – and settles you down onto your plush mattress and pillows. He undresses and gets ready for bed, while you’re resting your head on the pillow, observing him, but just before getting under the covers, he slips on his jumper.

“It’s so soft I could cry, Reggie,” you had whispered to him when you cuddled up to him when he wore it around you for the first time. “I fear I can never let you go now.”

Regulus slides under the blankets with a knowing smile, opening the hem, allowing you to creep under, chest against chest with your head poking out of the collar to rest at the bottom of his neck. 

“I'm no werewolf, but I’ll keep you warm with my love, amour,” he whispered to you in the dark, one hand combing through your fur protectively underneath his own jumper.

He swears, he could hear the little cat snort against his skin.