#timothee x reader

So as he’s inching for your lips, about to lay his on yours like all the answers you needed right then. Just a taste of you was what he wanted before jetting away. But, your doubtfully titling your head from his gesture. Eyes pondering away from your man who was suddenly stuck confused.

“Baby.. what’s up ?” Timothee breathes and luckily the elevator opens with your attention as well, and even as his hand lingers in yours, your still walking out with a soft bitten lip and a sigh.

Your silence only makes him hurry along after you, “what’s your deal ? Baby- -”

“Nothing.”

Your heading for his bmw. And as taken back as he was, Timothee still naturally opened the car door for you. But he wasn’t going to just move on without an answer. He knows this little routine. He knows you. It’s familiar after all. Except he can’t let himself take it as seriously as you do, not when your nose is tilted upwards and your posture is recognizably dramatic.

It got him bent at first, but when he realizes the pout in your lip, just as he snaps your seat belt in and adjusts it with care, his lips tug a soft grin.

“May I.. get a kiss ? Please ?”

“No.”

“Why ? Baby. Give me a kiss,” even with a bit more assertiveness in his voice, you didn’t want to budge. Not when you know you’ll be missing him again in less than an hour. You’d accept your fate early. So with a huff, you turn and kiss him on his eyelid instead.

Your boyfriend tries his hardest to keep a straight face. Annoyed, yet also amused. And your lips are twitching to fight a giggle as you stare at him now, arms folded and non reactive.

Timmy can’t help but lick over his lips softly and remain close to you as he hovers your passenger seat. “You wanna try that again ?” his tone drops a little, but remains softened and you could melt again. You hate when he does this. Hate the way he gets you to just want to give up any fight and merge into him. You’re being silly to him, but for you, it was serious. Even now as your inching the smallest little smile, you peck his lips softly. Not much. But not whatever that was before.

Timothee’s impression unimpressed as his eyebrows dip in offense, “c’mon princess, you can do better than that.”

Your man was waiting. Expecting. Staying there for you.

You wanted to resist some more. But really who are you to deny the sweetest kisses from the movie star whom tons of girls were desperately aching to have for themselves right now ? Maybe their yearn fueled you sometimes, and you’ll admit it, a little greedy at others. But overall, Timothee had you beat all on his own.

Going in tenderly with a hand to his soft cheek, you give him a real kiss at once.

Sweet, persistent, hungry, and blissful. Like your tiresome and sorry. You could do this all day.

Timmy’s fully immersed in it. Eyes shut with a faint grin against your lips. The second you’re done, you go back in for another. Then another. A sight of relief exiting you helplessly.

“There she goes,” he murmurs in between your soft pecks with a smile, making you hum for it as he braces the back of your neck, “that’s my girl.”

You know completely that this is exactly what he wanted. And you’re annoyed, but your also melting into his hold as your stomachs doing little cartwheels. You’re done for.

Timothee’s kissing you with full confidence, truly carrying the reality of you being his girl, like a promise. You weren’t expecting him to gently pull away with a grasps still on the bridge of your neck as his green meets your eyes finally.

With doing so, he can see it. He’s not anything under being a very astute man. The tiny bit of sadness that was dancing in your eyes right now. The one you’re trying to bury underneath being a little bit of a brat.

But as you’re leaning into him, arms draped over his shoulders not ready to let up just yet, Timmy smiles as he soaks in that exact look.

“.. it’s only a few weeks, my love.”

His tone was a little too sweet. It made you want to crawl into a cave. The feeling you wanted to hide there, along with your urge to tear up a little in all honesty. But you didn’t want to be that girl.

Timothee gently pushed a few strands of hair from your face.

“I’ll make it up to you. You know that.”

“It’s gonna feel like ages, though.. you know I struggle,”

“I know.”

He was being so kind to you right now, bending down to his knee, just beneath your level, even against the gravel beneath the car. Your thumb runs against his cheek, near one of his beauty marks that you so adore.

You really do appreciate his effort a lot. But sometimes you wished he wasn’t as big as the world needed him to be.

You would settle for the gentle hip rubs from his hands now, and his sparkly eyes that were dazing up at you like he was ready to listen to your every word with care. With the weight of it all in his hands, it was a fact he never failed to be an extraordinary boyfriend. And you could say that with pride.

“Will you text me the moment you get out of your meeting ?”

“I swear. And.. show me whatever you find while shopping ? - - I don’t want to miss any cute mirror pics..”

You giggle softly and he smirks. Your lightly playing with the soft hairs curling around his ear. “I wouldn’t want to distract Hollywood’s lucky charm in his super top secret meeting...” You teased, but really you know him wanting to keep you as far from his filming life as possible most of the time, was for good measure. Even though it lingered there in your relationship at times.

Your man only wanted to protect what was between the two of you at most. He knows how much you want to be apart of his world, but he also wanted nothing more than to keep his heart, that being you, away from all the chaos that comes with it.

You couldn’t blame him, with his stardom it was enviable how much people were putting in just to have the tiniest glimpse of the two of you. And you’d never want that to overshadow the incredible hard work he puts into what he loves doing.

So ultimately, you meant your remarks to be with the tone of how truly proud of him you’d been.

You left a soft peck on his cheek again. Timmy scoffed as he looks away with a coy blush.

“You’re a good distraction, baby. Good distraction.” He chuckles with a breathy note and you knew that for now, his word was enough. “Just spare me.. Okay ?”

You were settling into your seat again with lingering eyes on him and a faint blush, your lips that still long to be kissed, mark a sweet “Kay.” Timothee shuts your door gently with a promising look, he circles the car to get behind the wheel.

As much as you didn’t want to, you couldn’t keep your hands off you’re phone during your alone (pampering) time to show your man what you’d been eyeing throughout the day, and it was mostly his fault for asking of you to. Busy as he might be, you could imagine him trying to just peak a look at the spam of photos he knows you’ve sent. Featuring a sequence of you in things from mini dresses to evening gowns. Even shorter sundresses that rises against your thighs just right. Your hand placement where his would be.

Now, Timmy was biting down on his lip in a meeting room with the midday light hitting his phone a little to perfectly. So perfect, he didn’t even have time to push his phone back in his pocket when a photo of you: wearing Givenchy, studded and draped fabric around your cleavage was now appearing in your text messages.

The arch in your back, where your hip curves and makes a shape he would slide his hand over if he’d been with you. To touch you was a different story, but just thinking about it was enough to have his breathing slower, but heavier.

He was about to give himself up right now.

Timothee tried to hide his soft smirk while he’d been in a discussion with his managers, a slouched position in his seat. But Brian narrowed as he watched him from across the table nearby.

Timothee launched forward the moment you sent another.

For the sake of not helping him at all, it been a live photo of course. One of you with your hand slightly tousling your hair a bit and you stood in front of the mirror like an angel, wearing his Cartier bracelet and in his favorite brands. This time a pretty mini denim skirt, and you turned so of course the cuff of your ass was hidden just enough by the fabric, but not too much so, that your boyfriend had been running a hand over his parched lips now.

Leafy eyes completely doted to his phone, even though it was the last thing he should’ve been doing.

He’s a professional for heavens sake.

But when it really came down to it, you were always gonna be something else for him.

Now leaning back in his chair, whispering a faint “fuck” to himself as he scanned over the table again, and back at his screen. What’s on his mind right now was clear. A simple reminder of how he had you last night: begging.

He started typing quickly,

get everything.

He taped send to you before shutting his phone at once and slipping it into his pocket. And on the other end of course, you read the text with a grin on your face that was a bit too excited about your work of just enough thigh — it had truly got you your earnings.

Your actions might’ve been out of pocket, and a little naughty your man would say, but really all it was is that you missed him after all.

☆

One last night.

Dramatically, you might say, before it’s an eternity till you’ll be seeing your boyfriend again. Realistically, three weeks before Timmy isn’t the worlds, but yours again.

You had to get back to your life after all. You had clients, people who need you too. But it’s hard for you not to get so swept up in his world all the time to the point where having to pause it felt like dread.

You almost didn’t want to think of it. Didn’t even want to look at your suit cases lounging around the suite half packed, half rummaged through. You just wanted to be held by him now.

All the time you spent together throughout awards season, promotion, his downtime — quick little satisfactions of love and devotion from your lover. But when he goes back to filming, especially across the world. It’s like preparing for a cold winter.

You’d been sunken into the king sized bed, curled up, warm and cuddling yourself gently in nothing but your underwear and the a complete unknown hoodie Timothee had been wearing countlessly lately. He had provided you one of your own of course, even in your desired color. But you just had to inserted yourself in his. Because it smelled of him, and it made you feel a little less lonely on a night like this.

To make the quite of what was to come even a tad more bearable, the tv flickering across the hotel room was playing one of his films as well. You hadn’t even noted which one at first. You just pressed it the moment you saw your man’s pretty face appear on the catalogue, to transmit the sound of his voice throughout the silent room. Curled up in your comfort now, you watch him on screen.

To be near him any way right now, was better than when even just a mere couple of hours, you’d be back to miles and miles away from him instead.

The sun was almost gone to the next day, and the slip of his key card against the hotel door was faint. Entering in gently, like he’d been trying his best to be quiet in case you’d passed out already. It didn’t even catch you as you’d been immersed in the images of him on screen. Totally oblivious to the fact that real Timmy had been back to you after the long day. Completely no knowledge your boyfriend crept in softly, the jacket on him loose but ready to slip off, and his curls with a tint of sweat from running to meetings and fittings back to back.

When he sees your fame from the doorway, curled up into the most adorable ball. When he saw himself that it was you’d been engaged in, it made his heart skip a couple beats. He’d have to admit it, he knows how much being gone all day really made you feel. Staying back at the hotel or out and about without him he knows how much it means to you. How much you crave him.

He did also adore it.

Timmy leans against the entry frame of the suite. Arms crossed and a soft grin on his lips.

Watching you watch him.

“Miss me or just staring at me ?”

You jump a bit at the sudden interruption of the soft spoken voice you knew like your own name. Your eyes find his frame, the movie star underneath a washed out grey hoodie, and a look of fondness washes over your expression. Tired eyes but pure smile. Timmy took that look in because he knows it so well. The one that makes him feel like he’s the only man on the planet. The untethered admiration you’d given him.

Something he would think there’s no way he even deserves it at times.

“Both..” your voice soft, sleepy, and you have a little sideways smile on your face as you watch him stuff his hands in his pocket and make his way over to the bed.

“I missed you.”

Timmy has the kind of grin on his face that make his eyes shine a bit more, shaking his head endearingly at just how gone you are for him. “Yeah ? Was that what you were trying to say through those photos earlier.. that nearly got me gutted in my own meeting ?”

You held back a giggle but your blush highlighted your cheeks. Your trailed off with a sense of guilt, but also a tiny hint of reward,

“You said you wanted pics of everything..”

“And I got it. But Jesus, baby..” Timothee chuckled lowly as you’d been adjusting yourself when he came up on where you lie in bed, biting your lip to hide the smile that was a little too proud. You watch him remove the covers from your legs gently to get comfortable with you.

So he was folding during his meeting. You knew it.

“Is it so bad a girl just misses her man?..” You repeated yourself with a honeyed tone and soft but longing eyes meeting his glossy ones.

Timothee didn’t hesitate to grab the remote nearby you, directing it at the tv that was broadcasting himself, and powered it off mid monologue. He was hovering you now with a look of total affirmation.

“I’m right here.” He murmured close to your ear, tone breathy and full of devotion before leaving the sweetest kiss on your neck. You could melt right there. Wrapping your arms over his shoulders with a small giggle because it was true. All you wanted.

He is right where he should be. Right here with you.

Your feeling his lips in the perfect spots, making the perfect moves on your skin. You part your thighs just enough so he’ll be able to fit right in between them. He lets his hands drift to gripping your legs to be secured around his waist. Not letting space between your bodies, and only the pure comfort of one another. You can’t say your heart was beating at a normal rate right now. Timmy definitely noticed it with the way his lips curled into a knowing smile, and he just wrapped you around him even tighter.

It made you want to sigh out desperately, with all the worries you had of tomorrow, but the warmth of right now being too good to miss.

Your hand faces his cheek, rubbing soft circles with your thumb as his eyes trail your chest, where your heart beats a thump after the other, to your face.

“That desperate for me, mon amour ?” He teased with that damn charm. His tone silk with a faint cockiness. Like he knows your every move. And a gentle grin, with lips brushing your skin again.

You could have groaned, but your blush just overtook your entire body temperature at this point.

For fucks sake. He’s too good.

You whine with soft laughter to hide your coyness now. You nuzzle your face into the side of Timothee’s neck. His sent filing you up like a high. You wished he would just shut up. Spare the time to make your need sink in, and just make you forget what was to come.

It was what you needed, and you could hope he did too.

So, not being able to hold on another minute, with your hands tangled in his soft curls — you just kiss him. Your lips on his like a careless crash. Needy even. You taste him like you’d never gotten to before. And how it never got old. You can tell Timmy is grinning against your mouth but your too stuck in a haze to care.

But for all the annoyance in the world, he’s not kissing you back.

In fact he drags it out, replenishes, lips barely hovering yours, just to make you chase it.

You wanted to curse. You could hit him right now.

He’s biting back a chuckle. He found amusement in getting you like this. Because every time it’s enviable he’ll give you what you want. But you still fall for the trap every time. Forever for him.

“Timothee.” your huffing impatiently with a whiny tone.

“What, baby ?”

“Kiss me.”

He groans a bit like you were asking him a task.

“Mmm.. nah, I rather get revenge from earlier..”

You had to pause and search his face for a moment before the thought came back to you of earlier today, when you’d revoked your kissing privileges from him first.

You wouldn’t accept that your attempt to be a brat had backfired on you. Because in all reality.. he actually deserved it. In a way.

Instead of protesting, you just roll your eyes and let your exaggerated whine do the talking for itself. Which Timmy laughs at the way you’ve caught your own tongue.

“Yeah. How does it feel, doll ?”

“Shut up, Timmy.”

You don’t care. Truly. You just wanted what you wanted. Him. Your chest falls softy as you just squeeze him a little and rest your forehead into his chest. Eyes a bit glossy as you let your heart sink into what was actually making you cling to him so much.

“In a couple of hours, we’ll both be on a plane.. Separate ones. So just- - kiss me, please ?” Your tone was light as you mumbled it into the cloth above his chest and you can feel him breathe out deeply. The way your hands had been around him now and your legs curled into his body a little more, all made him want to hold on to you and never let up.

And that’s when he pressed his lips to the crown of your head tenderly, with care, then made his way to your lips. Soft at first, then with a deep incline that had you closing your eyes and letting the softest relief go from the back of your throat.

There it is.

You physically sink into his kisses, hands grasping his chin just to get a better feel. Timothee makes sure his hands are cupping you into him as he rolls you against his body. “ma princesse,” he quietly groaned against your lips before parting from you apologetically, and reaching for the ends of his t-shirt to pull off.

You can’t hide your smile, your full body blush, not if you even tried.

Your wrists were being lifted to his lips as he pressed gentle kisses to your palm, your fingertips, and your knuckles with ease and a doting look in his eyes. You could get lost in the way he was observing you now as he loved on the soft parts of you like this. You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and gave him full access before you noticed he’d been positioning himself lower on the bed sheets, Timothee’s curls falling into his eyes heavenly. He lowered himself over your tummy. More kisses here and there.

You automatically parted your legs for your boyfriend. And he’d fit snug. Chest rising as his hands find your calves and lift your thighs over his shoulders easily. Your body jilted as he tugged you closer to the edge of the bed. Closer to him. And his soft lips were still pressed to your upper core while a faint breath danced pass your lips.

Your warm, pulsing under the thin fabric you had on. And he loved it. He also adores the fact that it’s his hoodie you’re in right this second. With green eyes scanning your own, he never lets up from pecking your skin — reaching to push the hoodie out of the way, so that his hands could find the waist band of your thong.

Eyes swelling with devotion, you let him take over completely. Lifting your hips without hesitation so his fingertips would slide the fabric down your thighs, with controlled eagerness, and over your dangling feet. Once they’re out of the way, he puts your legs secure right over his shoulders. Timothee licks his lips once. Then another. Hunger swelling through his narrowed earthy eyes, familiar to you whenever he gave you his mouth. Usually with the light dim, your glowing cheeks on display, his knees against the ground, just like right now.

The subtle sound of your man pressing a kiss to your clit made you hum, it was enough to get your hands sliding through his dark freshly shortened curls, like a forest you knew the pathway by heart. You tug tenderly. “Timmy- -” your panting soft, and your lips part agape when he takes his time to scan your expression — his lips suction around the bud, and a euphoric kind of suck that has him closing his eyes achingly slow, like he’s being transported into another world full of you.

Your jaw goes flying within seconds.

Your moaning again, his name, soft “oh’s” while your other hand catches his locks too. Timothee nestled like home into the way the fullness of your thighs dip around his ears, slender fingers piercing the skin of your ass a bit as well, he moves you against his face, and his tongue gets a boost of its own. Dipping into you once, the taste makes him groan, and it’s totally known to both of you he’s erected just nicely under his joggers by now. “Mmm..” fills up your ears as your man let his digit get coated with your wetness, pleasuring you in little patterns across your cunt.

Your squeezing his shoulders, the nearest pillow, letting your head fall against the cushions.

“Fuck.. fuck, yes…” your moans are more like whimpers and chants — to which he finds adorable, especially when you can’t quite catch your breath; he reaches up to push his hoodie from your torso a little more when it’s crowding him. You suck in your lip as your legs go stiff, like you might lose the feeling in them from the way he’s plunging into your core, but Timmy keeps your legs apart, even directing them upwards for better access to where you drip. And you let his mouth take over your lower half like he’s the king and your his open treasure — that’s when a deeper moan exits your throat, from your veins, from your heart.

“Mmm- - yes ! Fuck — Timothee !” Your eyes go from being closed in bliss to watching him devour your slickness till your a panting mess, “More, more, more..”

“This ? Is this what you want, sweet girl ?” Your boyfriend’s low breathy tone comes in as his index finger finds it’s way of sliding over your folds, pace slow and teasing that makes you tremble, he enters you without any warning and your whimpering like it’s his to take.

“Oh… yeah, I wanna cum- - make me cum, baby..”

You didn’t have to ask him twice. Timmy kept his lips where you need them, loving the floods of pre-cum you left, and one hand was pumping into your clenched entrance.

It drove him crazy you to have you shaking like this.

All for him.

As well as the way he’s known to be a triple threat, he even brings his free hand up to dance above your skin, your perfect chest, and right to your plump lips as he pushes his middle and ring fingers between them. With a moan like a million ‘thank you’s’ to the universe for a man like Timothee — you suck on his fingers like it was your birth right.

Your mind had been at a total halt for the first time today. Nothing but you, him, and the climax that was about to hit you like falling through heaven.

“That’s it- - cum on my tongue like a good girl.. show me how much you’re gonna miss me when we’re apart..”

Like that, you felt the feeling in your legs go numb, trembling like you couldn’t control the urge to let out a scream — Timothee might’ve sucked a bruise onto you by the velocity he was going, the rhythm of his tongue, and the way he flexed his jaw to completely devour you.

With curled toes and a rippled whine, the kind that had brought tears from your eyes — not only from the sensational feeling, but the reflection of his words. You really were a muse for just how much you’d miss him right this second. The muscle memory of his pleasuring mouth on you already engraved to where you gushed right now, and your boyfriend laid his tongue flat against your folds not to miss a drop.

His deep but soft moans echo throughout your core when your legs finally soften. Your tension is destroyed. Your relaxed, and to his delight, dripping with sweetness. — So, with a content exhale, he press a savory kiss to your inner thigh, then he rising and leaves a lengthy one on your knee that said, ‘mine’

Your smile has your cheeks burning nearly, and even more so with your flush. Timothee had a goofy yet cute grin on his face as he climbs on top of your body again, chest heaving but soft giggles filling the air from you as your boyfriend melts into your embrace over him. Kissing you deep and your softly moaning into each and every one, molding with him once again.

You can feel him against our core, harder than you guessed. And fuck did he feel too inviting even through the barrier of his joggers. Rubbing against you. Your breath hitched and you gripped the nape of his neck as you pulled away mid kiss to utter, “Let me take care of you, T..” your hand was already inching down his chest, even as your lips linger his — but he was tirelessly sinking into the opened of your neck. You could feel him taking a soft whiff of your sent.

“Shh, baby… I just wanna be with you- - just let me be with you for now.”

You were showcasing a fond little smile beneath your bitten lip. You could swear right now that you felt your heart beats even sink up while you held him, and his arms squeezed a little tighter around your waist.

There would be hundreds of cities you’d cross over tomorrow, and think of him, your Timmy. And there would be a million faces he’ll encounter in the next couple of weeks and still be ready for you.

But you had him now. A version of Timothee that was the most present, the most loving and completely intertwined with you.

Only a fool would waste that thinking of tomorrow.

He looks over his shoulder at you for a moment and smiles softly when he sees just how sleepily messed up you look. Then his smile grows a little more when he sees the blanket that you hold close to your body.

“Enjoying the view, cara {dear}?” Timothée jokes with a smirk as you break out of whatever trance you seemed to be in. 

“Oh, very…” you joke back, attempting to wiggle your eyebrows but failing miserably as you're still dead tired, making him laugh. 

You sigh as he turns back to the stove and walk over to him, looking over his shoulder at what he’s making. You relax a bit when you see he’s making pancakes and not eggs, since you don’t like the popping sounds when making eggs. You lean your head against his shoulder as you notice two omelets sitting on the counter. 

“And by the way…” he points out as he flips a pancake. “You didn’t scare me, just startled me a little bit, mlle tête endormie {miss sleepy head},” he jokes with you and you roll your eyes. 

“You seemed pretty scared to me,” you tease back as you squeeze yourself into his side, giving his shoulder a little head nudge and making him laugh. 

“What?” You ask with a raised eyebrow. 

“I was just telling Saoirse the other day that I’m not the only one that does the head nudge thing. She didn’t believe me, but you do it too,” he explains and you laugh, shrugging your shoulders. 

“I only do it to you now that I think about it,” you nonchalantly reply and he chuckles. 

“I personally like our head nudge thing. Shows how we love,” you point out and he nods along. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asks seriously and you frown before nodding. 

“You can always tell me your secrets, you know that,” you promise him as you nuzzle your head into his arm a little more, making him chuckle again. 

“I love our little love nudge too,” he admits softly and you grin up at him. 

“Well that’s definitely a good secret,” you agree with him, making him grin too. 

You nudge him again as he switches the spatula into his opposite hand so he can lift his arm and wrap it around your shoulder. He pulls you closer and your arms wrap around his stomach as he leaves a light kiss to your forehead. 

“I was supposed to make breakfast today…” you tell him softly as you yawn and he chuckles. 

“Well, I woke up before you. Didn’t have the heart to wake you after you’d said you hadn’t been sleeping so well,” he informs you with a shrug and your heart bursts even more. 

“You really need to stop spoiling me, T. I may have gotten my heart broken, but I’ll be fine. I don’t need to be spoiled rotten,” you chide him playfully and he rolls his eyes at you. 

“But I like spoiling you. It’s one of my favorite things to do and it’s been a while since I could, so let me have this,” he practically begs and it’s your turn to roll your eyes. 

“You spoil me every time you come home and when you’re not working,” you point out with a raised eyebrow and he shrugs. 

“So? Like I said, it’s my favorite thing to do, ragazza carina {pretty girl},” he snickers and jumps slightly when you pinch his side, making him chuckle. 

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry, just don’t pinch me again,” he playfully concedes through his laughter as you shake your head with a small smile. 

“You’ll be the death of me one day, T. You really will,” you tease him, shaking your head, but you stop and freeze when you hear one of the locks on your door turn. 

After both pausing, you both look towards the door and your breath gets stuck in your throat. Timothée looks down at you for a moment, asking you a single question with his eyes and you shake your head. 

“I’m not expecting anyone… the only people that have keys are you, me, Paulie and…” you list off, pausing as fear overcomes you. 

Timothée clearly understands why you paused, making his muscles tense ever so slightly. He sets the spatchula down on your marble utensil rest before moving you behind him as he watches the door carefully. You both watch on in apprehension and you just pray that it’s not Malcom that walks in. Soon the door opens and the eldest Chalamet sibling walks into the apartment. She drops her bags and turns around for a moment, calling out to someone outside. Then Zendaya walks in and closes the door behind her. 

“The best Chalamet sibling has arrived with a guest,” Pauline announces herself and Zendaya with a grin as she turns to look at you guys. 

“Geez, what’s got you all tense?” Pauline asks when she sees the way Timothée and you stand. 

Your eyes light up once the fear leaves you and happiness flows over you at the realization that it’s only your friends, but Timothée stays frozen for a moment so you gently reach up, grabbing onto his bicep. You squeeze his arms softly and nuzzle into him as Pauline turns to lock the door. 

“T. It’s okay. It’s just Paulie and Z,” you whisper to him and he blinks before his hardened stare changes to a smile as he lets the tension slip away. 

“Sorry, guys. We thought it might have been Malcom. You, Timmy and I are the only ones besides him that have a key…” you explain as you look at them again with a grin. 

“It’s okay. Understandable after all that’s happened,” Zendaya reassures with a small smile as she and Pauline share a quick look. 

“Anyway! What are you two doing here?” You ask them, now excited as you rush over to hug them. 

“We came to check on you. I have a few days off. Z has to go back tomorrow morning though. She’s only here for the night,” Pauline explains as she gives you a hug and you sigh softly as you melt into her for a moment. 

Pauline was practically your own sister. If you weren’t with Timothée growing up, you were with her. Both the Chalamet siblings meant an incredible amount to you, they were always without a doubt there for you when nobody else was. So a hug from either of them felt like heaven and you would do anything to get one whenever you could. Soon you pull away from the hug with her and move on to hugging Zendaya. 

“Speaking of, how are you doing?” Zendaya gently asks as she pulls away from your hug, but keeps a hold of your arm. 

Both her and Pauline watch your face very intently, trying to get a sense of how you're feeling. They know how it feels to get your heart broken and they have a sad feeling knowing you’ve just gone through one. It’s never fun, but they both know that having people in your corner helps a lot, so they both agreed to be those people for you. Plus, maybe they’d get to play a little matchmaking in the process because lord knows you and Timothée absolutely belong together. 

“Honestly? I’m great. With Timmy and both of you here,” you admit, fully meaning it. You probably would be in your bed right now sobbing and not eating much if they weren’t here. 

You grin which makes the other girls smirk sneakily at each other and they share a subtle look when they see that Timothée wears a matching grin when he sees yours. He comes over and greets them himself before wandering back to your side subconsciously, making the girls share another sneaky look as he wraps an arm around your waist. You smile as he does so before your gaze darkens and you cross your arms. 

“Speaking of Timmy knowing about all of this…” you start, but trail off and Pauline straightens up before freezing in her spot. 

“Okay, okay. I see why you’d be mad…” she starts as she refuses to look at you. 

“Oh, really?” You ask her and she swallows.

“I know. I know. I pinky swore,” she mutters and Timothée gasps. 

“You made her pinky swear not to tell me? We swore never to do that, that we’d tell each other everything,” Timothée asks in shock and you groan, putting your head in your hands. 

“Not the point right now, T. We can talk about this later. I’m talking to your sister right now-” you tell him, but again you get cut off. 

“Look, he forced me, alright? He was going to come either way. You didn’t see how worried he was after your call. He literally was almost in tears. He thought he’d done something to upset you and was going to come find out for himself anyway. I couldn’t consciously let him think that, okay?” Pauline explains as she throws her hands up in surrender, trying to save herself while kind of throwing her baby brother under the bus and he gives her a look that says “shut up,” making her shrug. 

“Oops… that was supposed to be a secret too. My point being, my baby brother here is obviously obsessed over you…” she jokes and you feel Timothée tense up a bit at your side. 

“I’m not obsessed with her,” he scowls, giving his sister even more looks telling her to stop and she giggles as she comes over to you. 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay. Can I just get another hug?” she asks, holding her arms open with a small smile. 

You give her a dead stare for a moment, arms still crossed and she almost thinks you might say no. She knows how serious you take your and Timothée’s pinky promises. But you surprise her when you sigh and nod in agreement as you open your own arms for her. She grins and moves forward to hug you once more. 

“He's definitely obsessed with you,” she cheekily whispers out loud enough for Timothée to hear, but before he has a chance to say anything, pulls away from the hug. 

“Oh goodness, is Timmy making breakfast?” she asks as she quickly changes the subject and rushes over to where the bacon sits on a plate. 

Timothée lets go of you and rushes over, slapping her hand and making her drop the bacon. She crosses her arms, giving him a very prominent boo boo lip which makes you and Zendaya laugh at them. 

“Don’t touch it yet. I’m not done and I really don’t feel like making even more than I have to,” Timothée tells her with an annoyed tone and you give him a confused look at his sudden annoyance. 

He walks back into the kitchen, grabs a glass from your cupboard and fills it with some apple juice before placing it down in front of you as you sit at the island. You smile appreciatively as you think about how he must have read your mind because you literally just thought about wanting a drink. 

“Well, he better not burn anything. We just had a very long flight, with a crying baby on board. I don’t want gross, burnt food,” Pauline remarks with a giggle when you give her a look. 

“Oh, no. She has that look… You're in for it now,” Zendaya comments with a small smirk on her face. 

“At least he’s never given me food poisoning… like someone else in this room has…” you goad playfully yet with a hint of protectiveness in your tone. 

“One time! I only gave you bad chicken one time, and you still use it against me!” Pauline cries out as she crosses her arms, giving you a playful glare. 

“Still did it! T has never once gotten me sick with his food,” you reply and she lets out a huff as Zendaya laughs. 

“That’s not fair. You pick him as your favorite to defend every time,” Pauline whines out like a petulant child and you grin. 

“Sorry, Paulie, but you know he’s always come first and always will,” you tell her with a shrug, making Timothée grin now too. 

“Awe, that's so cute. Anyway… how have you two been…? Slept together yet?” Zendaya changes the subject, wiggling her eyebrows at you two in a joking manner. 

Timothée, who was mid flip on a pancake, freezes, letting the pancake drop. You, however, had just lifted the cup of juice that he’d given you and taken a drink, making you choke. You spit it out before coughing violently, which seems to snap Timothée out of his own shock to come check on you. He quickly rushes around the counter and rubs your back until the coughing dies down. Once you’ve calmed back down, you look up at him and see only worry and care written on his face. 

Not wanting to talk after for a moment, you just give him a thumbs up at his silent question of “are you okay?” and when he’s sure you're okay, he gives a firm nod before going back around the counter as you reach for a napkin to wipe your face with. You finally look over at your friends, who wear a slightly disturbed, yet pleased look at your and Timothée’s reactions. 

“What the hell, Z? No. We haven’t, nor will we ever,” you quickly sputter out, eyes on both Pauline and Zendaya, silently begging them to stay quiet. 

“Oh, wait… Timmy, you really haven’t told her?” Pauline asks in a coy tone with a small smirk as she knows what she’s doing. 

You look between the girls again before looking at Timothée and you notice how tense he seems to be. What were your friends hinting at? What was it that made Timothée so tense? You wonder to yourself as you raise an eyebrow, trying to read both your friend's faces as well as Timothée’s. 

“Told me what, exactly?” You ask as you continue to look back and forth at their faces. 

“Told me what?” You repeat your own question when no one says anything, now crossing your arms. 

You jump slightly when Timothée practically slams the spatula back down and you watch as he takes a deep breath as he turns away from your stare. He pretends to be looking though the fridge for a moment and you give the girls a worried look. Zendaya curses quietly, knowing Timothée’s definitely mad at the moment. 

“It's nothing, y/n, don’t worry about it,” Timothée dismisses in a firm, almost cold tone with a shrug and you frown, realizing he used your name. He never does that, it’s always a nickname either in Italian or French. 

Admittedly, he uses Italian more because he likes it more, but he has sprinkled a few in French every once in a while. But it’s always a nickname or a variation of your name or even just something sweet and caring. Never your name, when he uses your name that’s how you know to drop a subject. 

“Timmy…” you whisper as you look at him and he just shakes his head.

You sigh before deciding not to rile him up more. He gives the other girls in the room one last weird look before going back to cooking the last of the breakfast. You give both of the girls a look of your own, practically begging them to tell you what just happened. Although you were in love with Timothée, your best friend whom you told practically (almost…) everything to, Pauline was and is the sister you’ve never had. You two would spill absolutely everything about your life’s to one another, so you knew she wouldn’t hesitate to tell you if something, anything was wrong. 

It stayed quiet for a while and the question bothered you the whole time. Had something happened that he wasn’t telling you? What is he keeping from me? It couldn’t be that he was injured on set. I know about the injury to his shoulder, but what if he’d gotten another and has been hiding it? Is he sick or something? You continue to think as you sit at the counter, a million thoughts rushing through your head. 

Or maybe- did… did Pauline or Zendaya spill about my feelings for him and— you pause and freeze for a moment, giving the girls another begging look, hoping they’ll tell you that it’s not what you’re thinking. 

“We’re not telling you. That’s all Timmy here,” Pauline comments as she grabs another piece of bacon and pats Timothée on the shoulder. 

You again give them another begging look and they just shrug. You then open your mouth to outright plead with them to just tell you. 

"Breakfast is ready,” Timothée announces in a short tone as he finishes plating the food and turns off the burner. 

He grabs a plate in each hand and you grab another before hopping off your chair at the island. You also grab your cup with your other hand before you and Timothée walk over to the table. You set one plate down as Timothée sets the ones he has down and the other girls find a seat. You move to get more plates, but Timothée stops you and motions for you to sit, so you do. Soon he’s walking back to the table and he has the rest of your plates. 

Together you all start to eat and enjoy each other’s company, letting the question be forgotten, not to be brought up again. 

It's been a few hours since breakfast and the earlier conversation had been fully forgotten as you all have been enjoying each other’s time together. You’ve chatted and caught up on each other's lives, Zendaya talked a little bit about the movie she was filming just before Dune 2 and when it comes out. Pauline talked a little bit about the project she was currently working on as well before the conversation moved onto Dune 2. Zendaya and Timothée talked about how much fun they have had on set and how sad they’ll be when it fully comes to a close. You were happy that you all actively ignored the reason they were all here: your breakup, seeing as that was the absolute last thing you wanted to talk about. 

Later the four of you settle into the living room for a movie after deciding to watch one before Zendaya leaves in the morning. You close the blackout window curtains you got for this specific reason as Timothée sets the movie up. When he’s done he comes over and you lift your blanket, letting him get under it. He lifts his arm and you cuddle up to his side before giving him one of the famous nudges that you’d been talking about earlier, making him chuckle softly. You sit curled up next to him all the way through the trailers and are just about to press the play button before a realization stops you. 

“Dang, I forgot my phone. I’ll be back. Don’t you guys dare start the movie without me,” you comment as you push yourself to stand before turning to look at both Timothée and Pauline, who snicker at the memories of when they’d do that to you growing up. 

“We won’t,” Timothée promises with a soft smile and you snort. 

“Somehow I don’t believe you,” you tell him and he gasps, throwing a hand up to his chest like you’ve just wounded him. 

“How can you not believe me? I’m the most trustworthy person to you here,” he playfully declares and you giggle, making him smile. 

“Yeah, right… that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say. Clearly it’s me…” Pauline adds on, making you laugh more when Timothée gives her an offended look. 

“Guys. Guys. Stop fighting. Clearly it’s me,” Zendaya remarks with a smirk and both the siblings gasp. 

“Okay. Y/n, now you have to end this feud. Who is it?” Zendaya asks with a raised eyebrow and everyone looks at you. 

“Well clearly it’s Zendaya,” you joke and she pumps a fist in the air as the other two gasp. 

“I’m joking, I’m joking, I trust all of you equally,” you admit and they all smile. 

“You get no cuddles now…” Timothée playfully tells you with crossed arms and a very cute pout that makes you just want to kiss him. 

“Now I’m going to get my phone. DON’T start the movie without me. Zendaya, watch them, won’t you?” You clearly state as you look at Zendaya, who gives you a thumbs up.

You shake your head, not being able to wipe your grin off your face as you rush back to your room. You look on your bedside table where it should be charging still, but your eyebrows pull together when you don’t see it there. You pause to think of where it could be before pulling your blanket up and shaking it, but nothing falls from it. You then lift your pillow where you sometimes shove it under after checking it in the morning. You smile when you indeed find it sitting there like it’s for the tooth fairy. 

You pick it up and check it real quick, frowning when you see that there’s one call along with like twenty texts. You open it and frown harder when you see all who all the notifications are from: Malcom💕. You quickly shut your phone off and close your eyes while taking a quick deep breath. You decide to just ignore it for now and just go have fun with the people you love just in your living room. 

You drop the phone back on the bed, not caring about anything on it anymore before heading back to the living room. You try to forget about it, but it’s all you can think of. Just as you get close your mind finally forgets about it as you hear whispers coming from the living room. You pause right before turning the corner and listen into the conversation, even though you feel wrong for listening in. 

“Dude, are you an idiot?” Zendaya asks rhetorically and Timothée rolls his eyes. 

“Would you two not do this right now and drop it?” he asks as he crosses his arms, annoyed with his sister and good friend. 

“No, Timmy, we won’t drop this. We’ve both been witnesses to you losing her a hundred times and every time she gets her heart broken or you do. We’re fed up with watching it all,” Pauline seethes, but keeps her voice in a hushed tone and Zendaya nods in agreement. 

“Listen, we’ve seen how heartbroken you get when she gets into a new relationship as well as when those relationships haven’t ended well,” Zendaya states a little more calmly then Pauline had. 

“You think I like seeing the two that I’m closest with be heartbroken?” Pauline asks, almost on the brink of tears herself. 

You know it’s wrong of you to stay here and listen in, but your feet wouldn’t move and secretly you really want to hear what he has to say so you don’t move. Timothée thickly swallows and avoids both girls' eyes, not wanting to face his sister's sadness nor Zendaya’s knowing look, because in the end, he knows they are right. Pauline’s eyes soften once she sees her brother's reaction and she stands to go sit with him for a moment. 

“Timmy, I know you’re really scared to lose her, but we can promise you that won’t happen. We’ve seen you two together. I have more than Z, I’ve seen it since you were thirteen, maybe even longer…” Pauline informs him softly and he looks up at her in shock, making her grin. 

“Yes, you dummy, I’ve known for a long time. That’s when you realized…” Pauline tells him and he gapes at her, not getting any words out. 

“We’ve all known Timmy. We all see it except you two numbskulls, you both are in love, but too afraid of losing the other,” Zendaya points out and your eyes widen. 

You think back over all the years Pauline had tried to tell you things like “he’s in love with you,” “Would you just tell him already, I’m getting bored,” but you never listened. You would always shake your head and tell her that she was crazy. You believed for years that it was always just Pauline seeing what she wanted to see and trying to make it a reality. You never in a million years had the idea that Timothée could ever really share your feelings. He’d dated so many other girls that had you believing you would never be his type and you were always questioning if you were even remotely close to them, so why would he ever see you like that? The next words that come from his mouth, however, will confirm either that he does indeed feel the same way or if you get your heart broken all over again in the span of a week. 

Timothée stays frozen for a few minutes, stuck in his head as he tries to gather his words. Finally after another moment, he shakes his head with a frown. 

“She was just cheated on…” he starts trailing off for a moment as he sits forward, putting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands close to his lips. 

“If I were to make a move…” he continues, pausing as his sister smiles at him. 

“I wouldn’t do it now. That’s just taking advantage of her sadness and I wouldn’t ever want her believing that,” he cautiously explains his thoughts and pauses again for a moment before looking at his sister again. 

“You guys are right. I do really love her. I’ve never loved anyone like I have and do her, but I can’t and won’t do that to her. She needs the time to grieve and get over this,” he finishes off and Pauline sighs, shaking her head in disappointment. 

“If only you could see how she looks at you, how she talks about you to me and others. How she’s talked about you for so, so many years,” Pauline comments sadly as she frowns. 

She knew where he was coming from, he loved you more than anything and would do absolutely anything for you. She respected that he’d do that, put you first over even himself, but she also knew this was a never ending cycle. She knew he didn’t believe a word anyone else around him would say unless it came from your mouth itself. 

“She’s right, Timmy. Y/n looks at you like you hung the stars, moon and sun for her. She looks at you with only love,” Zendaya adds on, hoping it’d drive the nail in the coffin, but sadly it doesn’t really seem to work. 

“Can we just stop talking about this before she comes back,” he cuts the conversation there and both girls frown, feeling like it’s just hopeless, but they agree nonetheless. 

You stood there frozen in place, eyes wide, every breath that had been in your lungs disappeared. Timothée is in love with you… and there’s no denying it, he’d said it himself… 

You silently panic to yourself for another moment before realizing that they’d start to worry if you’re gone much longer. So you suck in a big breath and quickly pull yourself back up straight. “Act normal, not like you just learned something big. Okay, you’ve got this…” you think as you take your first step. “If I act like I heard nothing, they’ll never know…” you lastly think before fully moving to walk back out. 

To Be Continued…

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one of the guards places their large hands on your shoulder, pushing you to lie on your stomach. you see the legs and shoes of the guards around you as metal encloses your wrists. they pull you up, tugging you along up the stairs and through the maze of the castle. in your delirious state, the doors of the aplenty hallways blend together into one shade of brown. when they tug you outside, you are blinded by the sun, deprived of light.

the horizon of sherwood forest is the first thing that you see past the rush of light. the tops of the trees are barely visibly behind the tops of the buildings housing the people you helped. the guards only pause for a heartbeat before continuing their lugging. there is a guard in front of you and two beside you as they escort you in a practiced manner. the gallows are in the center of town, a reminder to all citizens to keep in line. though, only the top of the wooden structure is visible past the crowd standing around. some are unfamiliar, but others are recognizable allies. there are tears in some of their eyes when they meet your defeated gaze, forming a pit in you. ashamed, you look down at the ground, the shackles around your wrists digging into your back. you follow the guard leading you up the wooden stairs and stand before the grand audience. the king stands on a platform on the other side of the crowd, a horrid smile blessing his wrinkled face. the sheriff is already on the platform next to the box to be stood on. you can’t bare to look at him.

most of the guards that led you to the gallows leave to maintain the crowd, allowing the next guest to climb the stairs of death. little john steps onto the platform. he has noticeable bruising on his face and he looks as if he was torn apart and tortured. you look down, seeing some drops fall from your eyes and dampen planks of the floor. you feel his presence next to you and you face him; he’s already looking at you, two guards surrounding the both of you. sniffling quietly, you mouth, “i’m sorry.”

little john shakes his head faintly. “i’m not,” he mouths back, and your eyebrows furrow. “i’m thankful, kit.”

you mouth purses as tears line john’s cheeks, and you have to look away to prevent yourself from breaking fully.

the crowd silences as the king forces their attention onto him. “welcome, taxpayers of nottingham!” you scoff lightly at his title for his people. “today, we’re gathered to witness the execution of two of nottingham’s most… determined criminals.” he looks directly into your eyes from across the crowd. “robin hood and john the giant. they are being charged with countless crimes, of which there is theft on grand scales and the kidnapping and torturing of my son, prince timothée chalamet.”

the king waits a beat for an applause that never comes. the audience is unreactive to the king’s pleasures, but he continues nonetheless. “let’s commence! first, the hanging of the outlaw known as robin hood.”

with the king’s gesture, the sheriff approaches you as the guard to your left unshackles you and grips your wrists. they escort you to the box, the sheriff putting the loop of the noose over your head. “goodbye, robin hood.” he whispers before smugly standing next to you. he gets to kick the box from under your feet as soon as the king gives word.

the word doesn’t come right away; however, as the king revels in the suspense. how you stand helplessly, waiting for his mercy to release you. as he is about to announce your death, there is a lone voice in the silent crowd, “stop!”

the audience part to reveal the voice. timothée stands, breathing heavily and bruised. you can’t help but gasp, the rope scratching at your neck and tears pricking. timothée steps closer to the platform, raising his hands. “they’ve done nothing wrong, they only look out for the people of nottingham. how can you charge someone with death for only helping people?”

timothée turns his head to face his father, who hides his surprise with a cool expression. “robin hood is being charged with grand theft and the kidnapping and torturing of you! my son,” the king eases into a gentle look as if he put on a mask. “you’re suffering. you’re the victim.” there are quiet murmurs amongst the king’s supporters, calling timothée ‘brainwashed’ and the nickname ‘stockholm nut.’

timothée takes in a shaky breath when he realizes that no speech would change his father’s mind. he faces you once again, biting his lip before lowering his hands. without a second beat, he unsheaths a hidden dagger from the waistband of his pants, throwing it at the gallows. the dagger digs into the wood just above you, tearing the rope and freeing you. “RUN!” he yells before the crowd swallows him.

you stand for a moment, trying to look for timothée, but you don’t see him. you quickly turn to your right, seeing the sheriff stunned. you hop off the box and kick the sheriff in the stomach, knocking him off the platform. the guard that escorted you aims his crossbow, but you duck before it hits you, the arrow whistling in the air. you straighten again, approaching the guard as he reloads his weapon. before he can load the next dart, you rip the crossbow from his hands and throw it off the platform in the opposite direction from where the sheriff landed. the guard looks for help before you swipe his legs and he plummets on the planks. the guard next to john holds him by the collar with his crossbow aimed at his temple, but you approach him with adrenaline rushing through your body, dismissing any fear you might have felt before. you punch the guard square in the nose, hearing the cartilage crack. you shake your hand and smile at little john, but the rope that’s still around your neck is tugged. your hands fly to the noose, trying to provide oxygen to your body again. the guard drags you by the neck to the ground and chokes you. you try kicking him with the heel of your boot, but you can’t reach.

the pressure around your neck is suddenly alleviated, accompanied by a groan from behind you. you turn, seeing little john standing over the guard. “we have to go now,” you remove the noose from around your neck, running down the stairs after little john. his hands are stuck behind his back, as he is still handcuffed, but he runs to straight in the direction of sherwood. “(y/n)!” he calls when he realizes that you’re lingering by the crowd.

“we can’t leave timothée! he saved us!” you begin to yell his name.

“we can’t stay here! they’ll catch us again!” little john walks in front of you. “please.”

your breathing becomes frantic. little john can’t be more right, you can’t afford to stay in nottingham after the stunt that timothée pulled. but, timothée can’t stay either. “TIMOTHÉE!” you screech before little john nudges your shoulder. you run to sherwood, but not before screeching his name repeatedly.

your voice is raw by the time you reach the edge of sherwood. little john weaved through town to lose the trail of guards, and you followed him. once you’re in the safety of sherwood, paces from the edge of the woods, you collapse onto the grass. john sits on the ground, bending his legs to loop his arms through so they are in front of him. you notice the red around his wrists as he inches closer to you, hugging you by placing his arms over your head and pulling you close. with the first comfort you’ve felt in what seems like years, you begin to sob into little john’s shirt.

“shh, kit,” little john whispers, slightly rocking you. “it’s okay. we can’t let them know we’re here. we’re in the forest, you’re safe in sherwood.” you cover your mouth with your hand, trying to suppress the sobs coming out. your tears don’t cease to stream, and your shaking hand becomes wet. “kit, look at me.” little john straightens, restrained hands still wrapped around you. you look up to meet his eyes, a conflicted look in them. “breathe with me, count to three.” john takes in a dramatically deep breath, gesturing for you to breathe with him. he developed this breathing method for whenever you got overwhelmed.

you let a small smile form on your face as you mimic his breathing, pulling yourself together for a moment. repeating the breathing exercise, you look around for a rock to break john out of his shackles. john lifts his hands from where they rested by your back and places them on the ground, separating his hands to reveal the chain between them. you find a suitable rock and, still breathing in the emphasized steady pattern, hit the chain with the rock until john is able to separate his hands. “thank you.” he hugs you properly.

you nod, unable to speak through your breaths, and john stands. you try to stand as well, but you nearly collapse, john barely catching you by the shoulders. your breathing quickens and you panic. “let’s go home, yeah?” you nod rapidly, letting little john pick you up. your arms wrap around his neck and he supports your legs. the metal of his shackles digs into your thighs, but you’re too exhausted to care. with your head nuzzled in little john’s neck, you fall asleep.

“(y/n),” a whisper wakes you, causing you to mumble. “we’re at the camp.” you drowsily lift your head to look around. lit by the setting sun, the camp is just as you left it. firepit containing hints of ash, john’s clothing line still between the trees, the chest of your belongings still lined with moss.

john sets you down by the logs, starting the fire. he places pre-cut logs on the fire and begins working on lighting it. you close your eyes, focusing on your breathing until you feel the warmth of the flames and little john next to you. “some berries from the bush. please eat, kit.”

little john places a handful of berries in your tremoring palm, and you slowly place one in your mouth. the juices pop as you chew, and the taste feels too sweet for how you feel. you fall into a fetal position, head landing on little john’s lap. you glumly place another berry into your mouth as john strokes your hair. you stay like this as you eat your berries.

once all of the berries are gone, you’re left to watch the fire crackle. you think back to nottingham, to timothée. “john,” you think aloud. little john hums. “why did he do it?” you ask, thinking about the dagger.

there is silence as he thinks of an answer. “i don’t know. tim put us before himself, though. i respect him.”

you sniffle, rubbing your eye with your sleeve. suddenly, you’re cold. you reach to cuddle into your cloak, but realize that you no longer have it. “bear,” you let out before breaking. “you’re all i have left.” your cloak was taken from you, your bow was broken, your purpose is now impossible, and timothée is gone. “what are we going to do?”

little john sourly attempts a laugh, but it sounds more like he is choking on his words. “i’m not going anywhere, (y/n). i’ll take care of you, we’ll take care of each other together. we can run away, leave nottingham and travel. we can get jobs, and i can whittle you a new bow, greater than the one you had before.” you cry into john’s pant leg until you hear a sound in the distance.

you immediately silence, pressing your palm over your mouth and nose as you look up at john. his face is alert, looking in the direction of the noise. he soundlessly stands, grabbing your hand gently and leading you to the overgrown shrubs that line your camp. john’s grounding grip on your hand doesn’t falter as you both crouch in the grass, listening to the noise.

“(y/n)? john?” the noise grows into a voice. immediately, you jump from the shrubs, recognizing the voice. standing in the amber light of the fire is timothée.

he’s still dressed in the oversized white long sleeve that he had on when he saved you, but it now is littered with holes. his pants have patches of mud, and his hair is disheveled. there is a trail of blood from his head and down his temple, but he smiles nonetheless.

“timothée!” you yell, running towards where he stands, but you trip and fall hard onto the grass. you sit up as timothée falls to the ground in front of you, pulling you into an embrace. your face presses into his chest and you can feel his face in your hair. you hug him like you’re holding on for dear life, as if timothée is the antidote to the deadliest poison. “i thought i lost you,” you hiccup against the cloth of his shirt.

timothée holds you impossibly tighter. “i couldn’t lose you, cupid. i saw you at the gallows, and i didn’t know what to do. days ago, a woman visited the castle saying that she was my new tailor. the guards allowed her into my room, and she said that she knew you. she had john’s knife and gave it to me. whenever i was alone, i’d practice throwing the dagger. i only had one chance to cut the rope, or else–”

“but you did it.” little john cuts timothée off. “thank you, tim. from the bottom of my heart.”

timothée airily laughs. “i couldn’t lose you two. you’re so important to me.” you feel timothée’s hands move, rubbing your back soothingly. “(y/n),” timothée pulls away. you look up to his face, seeing the tears that trail on his cheeks. timothée gently places his hands on the sides of your face, waiting for you to pull away, but you don’t. you lean into him, and he meets you halfway.

when little john described what his first kiss was like with a girl in school, you thought he was ridiculous. he said that kisses were magical, that they could cheer you up instantly from any sour mood. you didn’t believe him until you were kissing timothée. you’re the first to pull away for air, nudging his nose with yours. a genuine smile appears on your face, cheeks straining from your exhaustion. timothée takes in a deep breath, hands still on the sides of your face. you can see his eyes shifting, looking all over your face with a smile. “you hit me with an arrow.” your face contorts in confusion. “cupid, i’ve fallen for you. hard.” the confusion instantly falls as you realize what he is saying, eyes widening in surprise. “you have a heart of gold, always putting everyone before you. when you had the chance to run and save yourself, guaranteeing that you’d be free, you didn’t. you saved john. you saved me.” your lips purse, tears continuing to fall at his confession. timothée wipes away your tears, whispering, “you don’t have to say anything, i just–”

you cut him off with a gleeful laugh. “oh, timmy. i love you. oh, god, i love you.” timothée’s smile widens, any wider would have cracked his lips. he whispers how he loves you before pulling you in again, arms holding you close by the waist. you wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. he pulls away with a laugh of pure joy, kissing your nose before embracing you, kissing the top of your head.

little john cheers, laughing and clapping. “i called it! i knew you were flirting with him!”

“oh, shut it, beanstalk.” you turn your head to face little john, your cheek on timothée’s chest. john has a bright smile on his face, happy for you.

you eventually sit on the logs around the fire between the two most important people in your life. you watch the ambers of the fire dance in the night sky, resting your head on timothée’s arm. his head rests on yours while your hand scratches and twirls the hair at the nape of his neck. “where are we going to go next?” little john asks. “we can’t go back to nottingham.”

“a place where none of us would be recognized, i guess.”

“i’m not the popular prince in my family, so i’m not the problem with that idea.” you snort. “little miss notorious outlaw here is the problem.”

“hey!” you teasingly poke the back of timothée’s neck, making him laugh. “you’re the famous prince, notorious for succumbing to stockholm syndrome.”

“who’s fault is that? you’re the one with the powers, cupid.”

you laugh, a silence falling over you. though timothée tries to lighten the mood, you can’t help but think about the seriousness of his actions. “timmy, you threw away your life to save us.’

“there was nothing to throw away.” he kisses the top of your head. “the best moments of my life all were in the months i spent in sherwood with the two of you. i was never happy in nottingham, and i never would be. there is nothing for me there except a life of wishing for more.”

you lift your head, resting your chin on his shoulder. “then let’s find us a home, my love.”

—

you wake up, stretching and cracking your limbs underneath the warmth of the covers. who knew that sleeping on a mattress was better for your back than sleeping on the forest floor? you lift the duvet off of you, breathing in the scent of freshly baked bread. you sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your lightweight shirt. you stand up from the bed, slipping on a pair of pants before you pad out of the room and into the connected store in just your socks.

“morning, cupid.” you yawn, meeting the eyes of your partner. timothée smiles brightly, wearing an apron. his brown curls are freshly trimmed, but still wild in nature. you notice a streak of flour on his cheek. you walk up to him, pulling him into a hug. “not a shoe day?” you laugh, pulling away to brush the flour from his cheek before you kiss him.

“morning, my love.”

timothée hums contently, squinting with joy. “i love your accent, mon ange.”

“i know.” you hold his cheek, pecking him with another kiss. you walk to the hanger in the hallway, pulling a light overcoat off of the hook. the coat is green, but with personal designs mirroring the nature of sherwood identically. the coat was a gift from timothée made by marian. the coat purposely has no hood, as it doesn’t need to conceal you. you’re happy, helping people legally.

“timmy, have you opened yet?” you yell from the hall. timothée answers with a no. you walk across the floor of your store to the entrance, flipping the open sign and unlocking the door of your bakery. “i’ll take care of the muffins, darling. we still have the premade batter, right?”

you walk to the counter, but your mission to bake the best muffins is interrupted by the bell of the entrance door. you turn around to see little john and marian walk into the bakery. you scoff playfully, “of course you walk in just as we open.”

little john throws his hands up in mock offense. “well, we have to get the freshest bread! look at tim, hard at work to bake just for us!” you laugh, pulling little john in for a hug. “how are you, kit?”

“why are you acting so sentimental? you two were just here last week!” you pull away to hug marian, timothée coming from around the counter to hug little john.

“we do have a reason to come in so early though. john just likes to tease,” marian’s tone is sweeter than usual. her pregnant stomach pokes you as you hug.

“well, i’d like to hear it.” you play along with little john’s bit.

“we’ve thought of a name.” john’s tone is happy, no longer joking. marian holds her stomach.

you clap excitedly. “finally! tell us!” you jump up and down, timothée laughing at your anticipation. marian has been pregnant for a while, but they hadn’t decided on any names until now.

john and marian look at each other before looking back at you two. “robin,” they say simultaneously.

your hand flies to your mouth, timothée’s arm wrapping around your waist. you coo, “john, marian. i’m so honored.”

marian looks down at her belly. “well, after everything robin hood has done for us, there was no other name that felt quite right for our little bean.”

marian and little john stay in the bakery as you and timothée work behind the counter. “any news from nottingham?” you ask, curious. you no longer have ties to the town, but marian briefly visits once in a while. she no longer owns the boutique in nottingham, but opened one in this town. little john works there as her assistant.

“nothing much, except that the sheriff was demoted.” you look up from the muffin tray.

“since marian got the townspeople the gold we kept in that river cave, the people turned against the sheriff. the guard that i gave the insider information to started the revolt against the sheriff, and the king had no choice but to listen to the people.”

you laugh at the sheriff’s loss. “doesn’t deserve to be a sheriff, he’s a cruel person.”

“speaking of cruel people, how’s my father?” timothée leans against the counter with his arms crossed.

“alright, i guess.” marian shrugs. “there aren’t that many people who listen to him anymore, not after the day at the gallows. his guardsmen slowly turned against him, starting with the one who helped little john relay information to me.”

the wind-up kitchen timer interrupts the conversation. timothée silences the alarm and pulls the loaf of bread from the oven, aroma filling the store. little john’s stomach groans. “we did also come for bread.” you shake your head, reaching under the counter and wrapping a loaf, handing it to them.

marian reaches for her coin purse, but you shake your head, pushing the loaf into little john’s hands. “free of charge, i insist.”

you drop your bow to the ground without a second thought, as you’d rather save your best friend than your treasured engraved bow. your hands slowly rise up in surrender, though your eyes flicker undetectably to the boy who trailed you. timothée is nearly undetectable, blended with the shadows of nature.

“don’t hurt him” is all that can escape your hidden mouth. your mind races with thoughts and potential outcomes of being caught, but your mouth is too slow to match pace. the sheriff sickeningly smiles, nodding his head towards you. a guard approaches you, roughly gripping your shoulder and pushing you down until your knees buckle. the impact and the brushing of the tainted grass burns your skin.

with you on the ground, but against your wishes, timothée emerges from the shadows. “let them go, i’m not hurt.” timothée’s attempt at civility is accompanied by his raised hands—a sign of peace. “i don’t want them to get hurt.”

“your highness, we’re under orders to capture robin hood and the giant,” the guard holding you addresses timothée sourly.

“i am of royal blood, and i release you from your orders. i’m not hurt,” he repeats, but his attempt is met with the unsettling laugh of the sheriff. his grip on little john did not loosen with your surrender, and the blade of his knife dangerously shifts with his joyful movement.

“the king, your father, gave us these orders. they can’t be overridden.” his face scrunches into a snarl as he removes the blade from john’s neck. a light mist of relief flutters, but fruitlessly. the sheriff turns the dagger and strikes little john in the perfect spot with the hilt. john’s large figure falls to the ground, unconscious.

you struggle to get to your feet, but the guard presses you further into the ground, the cloth covering your knees beginning to moisten through contact with the hidden dirt. “you said you wouldn’t hurt him if i cooperate! it’s me you want!”

the struggle of robin hood widens his cruel smirk. “i only said i wouldn’t kill him.” his gut-wrenching words are followed by a gesture with his knife—a signal aimed at timothée.

the second guard wastes no time as he pushes timothée to the ground, no remorse for abusing the prince. timothée tries to fight back against him, and seeing john’s body with the grass and timothée’s struggles, your veins rush with adrenaline. “don’t touch him!” you throw your head backwards with all your might, causing the guard to fold. you kick him to the ground once you’re free and launch yourself from the ground toward timothée’s flailing body. screaming fills the air as you reach for him, but your arm is crushed into the dirt with a stomp before you can touch his outstretched hand. timothée is pulled away by the second guard.

you retract your arm, pain coursing as you’re pressed into the ground with a boot to your back. the arrows in your quiver snap. you turn your head to see the sheriff standing over you. the guard who was meant to restrain you raises his shoe and stomps into the ground, followed by the sound of wood cracking—your bow. the sheriff tears your hood from your head, bandana falling soon after. your face has been revealed. “didn’t expect robin hood to be a girl.” you fight tears as you look in front of you.

the last thing that you see is timothée’s hand reaching for you.

you regain consciousness before your eyes open, a cold and itchy material pressing into your temple. your eyes open, fueling the pounding in your head, and you’re met with dark concrete lit only with a distant candle by a staircase. the shadows of the barred entrance lines the floor with streaks of black. you sit up, feeling colder than normal. they stripped you of your cloak, leaving you only in your undershirt and pants.

the cell is grimey and decrepit. the imposingly dark stone of the cell is far from livable, no warmth whatsoever. the view between the bars of the door provides a feeble view of outside. you take in a shaky breath before speaking, “john?” your voice is raspy, making you jump. your call is only followed by silence. you are alone.

you press your hands into what seems to be a thin mattress, but it’s just a cloth strewn over a pile of straw. you lift yourself to your feet, but your bruised arm and the pain in your calf cause you to fall back onto the mattress. your arm isn’t broken, but a patch of purple and yellow bruising decorates your skin. your fingers lift your pant leg, seeing that the guards didn’t strip you of timothée’s tie. it is still wrapped around the cut, dry blood surrounding it.

the pressure around your calf is almost comforting as your mind races through the events that led you to this cell. little john was caught and knocked unconscious. timothée was taken by the guards. there is no doubt that you’d be executed, most likely followed by little john’s, but timothée’s fate is unknown to you.

for the first time in years, you begin to cry. frustrated with yourself, you wipe the tears from your eyes with your sleeve-covered palm, but the salty tears continue to fall. you shake with a sob, pressing your eyes into your dirty knees, failure sinking into your soul.

“you’ve caused me plenty of trouble, but i’ve finally caught you. i won, robin hood.” the sudden voice startles you, head whipping to the figure standing at the barred door. you wipe your face as the sheriff laughs. “crying at your loss?”

you sniffle. “you’ll never win.” your statement was meant to be intimidating, but your voice is shaky and he laughs again. you take a deep breath before continuing, “you torture the people of nottingham. you’ll run out of support and gold.” some confidence snakes back and you stand, walking to the bars despite the dull pain and pressure of timothée’s tie. “then what will you do? go into debt and starve alone.”

“shut up!” the sheriff yells and pounds the bars with his rough palms; you flinch slightly at his outburst. “i’ve won! i caught you! you’re in a cell!” he jabs a finger at you through the bars with every exclamation. “no more escaping into the forest for robin hood, only the gallows at high noon! you and the giant will hang for all the trouble you’ve caused me.”

your sore face scrunches into a scowl before you step slightly closer to the bars. the sheriff’s eyes are mad with anger and power, and you spit in his face. “you little–”

“enough, sheriff.” his outburst is interrupted by a cooling voice. the king steps from the staircase and places a threatening hand on the sheriff’s shoulder. “leave us. i wish to speak to the outlaw alone.” the sheriff stares at you, huffing, before he turns on his heel and ascends the stairs.

the king stands in front of your cell calmly, hands clasped behind his back and jeweled crown glittering in candlelight on his greying head. his cold eyes; however, are the most intimidating feature of his wrinkled face. the portrait from the masquerade does not do them justice. all your confidence from facing the sheriff flees at his glare and you back away, sitting on the mattress and pulling your knees up, arms wrapped around your shins. timothée’s tie presses into your chest.

“robin hood.” his tone is laced with venom as he addresses you by nickname. “i hope you find your accommodations fitting.”

“doing just peachy, your highness,” the sarcastic comment escapes from your lips sooner than you can think. the king represses a snarl.

“the giant is in another part of the dungeon. we made sure to put you two far apart.” his comment jabs at your heart—you likely won’t see john until you’re hanging by the neck.

a cold silence blankets the cell as the king observes you, unsteady breaths and huddled figure—a pathetic form of the great robin hood. the king smiles.

your fingers absentmindedly reach for your calf, touching the tightness of timothée’s tie. you think of him, “is timothée okay?”

the king’s smile falls into a scoff. “physically, yes.” you let out a gentle sigh of relief, your worries somewhat answered. “you don’t deserve to be concerned, you brainwashed him.” he steps closer to the bars of the cell, furs of his expensive cloak lit by the distant candle. “what did you do to my son?” his voice is nearly as freezing as his eyes. “did you torture him? starve him?”

you place a hand on the shin of your injured leg. “i showed him how to live. he feels trapped here, all alone. i showed him companionship.”

“you showed him no such thing. you corrupted him!” his suave mask cracks with anger, making his icy eyes momentarily flare with his frenzy. “he doesn’t listen to me anymore. he fights back. i was forced to post guards at his room to prevent him from coming down here and releasing you. he’s gone mad because of you.”

“he was unhappy here!” your voice cracks with a raised tone. “he told me himself.”

“timothée is a prince.” the king takes in a calming, strained breath. “he’s happy with his privileged life. you couldn’t understand him; you’re a criminal that lives in the woods. you kidnapped my son from my castle, from the masquerade i held in his honor, and you ruined him.” the king lines his words with practiced emphasis—a tactic that keeps him with power clenched in his fists.

though, you deflect his deceit, “timothée is miserable here, can’t you see? he thrived in the forest. you just admitted to forcing him to stay here—he wants to leave! don’t you want your son to be happy?”

the king only stares at you. his eyes gaze into you, fear coursing through you. he turns away from you unprompted, but his wrinkled face looks over his shoulder to meet your eyes. “it brings me great joy to know that your body will be hanging tomorrow. good riddance.”

you grip timothée’s tie. “see you in hell,” you hiss. the king looks forward, extinguishing the candlelight and leaving the dungeon in complete darkness, save for a dark blue hue from a small barred window.

it’s impossible to know how long you were unconscious, and how long you will be left in darkness. the only thing that is certain is that you will be escorted to the gallows when the sun blesses the sky. the warmth of the sun now feels like a curse, a ticking bomb.

if this is your fate, would you take back your actions? you shake your head at the question, pressing the clothed heel of your hand into your temple. no, you would still do it again. you not only helped people, but experienced adventures that filled you with joy. little john.

your eyes prick with tears as you think of him, guilt forming a stone in your stomach. he had the potential to move on from the woods, to live a life and writhe in the domestication of a household. now, because of you, he’ll never be able to move on. he’ll never own a house. he’ll never marry marian. he’ll never raise a family.

you fall on your side, landing roughly on the pathetic excuse for a mattress. your calf momentarily sears with the cursed dull pain. you think of timothée. what will happen to him once you’re hanged? will he ever be free? or will he be isolated for the rest of his years? a sob wracks your body as you curl on the hay. the thought of not seeing him tears at you. you spent everyday with him, and the sudden deprivation pounds your head further.

the thought of him is the sole comfort that leads you to an uncomfortable, sobbing slumber.