My Biggest Strength Is My Biggest Curse.

He should've won!! (Adrian still did good, congrats to him)

Timothée Chalamet at the Academy Awards on March 2, 2025. 💥💥💥

𝐋𝐄𝐄 - 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐋𝐋

🌟 = Fluff, 🪐 = Angst, ✨ = mild spice, 🎬 = hurt/comfort

{𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝} → open ! || requests are usually open unless they get too much, then I will turn them off so that I could finish other requests ! ||

ONE-SHOTS:

Forever you 🎬🌟 - Lee is cursed with immortality, and he finds Y/N's reincarnation every time.

SERIES:

(not yet available)

BLURBS :

(not yet available)

Navigationˎˊ˗

{𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝} → open ! || requests are usually open unless they get too much, then I will turn them off so that I could finish other requests ! ||

About the blogˎˊ˗

what I do -> write fanfics and on some occasions, headcanons about timothée's characters

what I write about -> Harry Potter, Marauders, Characters played by Timothée, RPF, etc.

P.S. I don't have an upload schedule, but I try to post and make fanfics as much as possible. My stories are best when I am motivated. It keeps the fun and excitement in making these stories when I'm more motivated. :>

masterlist, prompt list

rules and disclaimersˎˊ˗

yes ! → fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, character x reader, mentions of smvt, bl00d/g0re, slow burn, RPF

no ! → smvt, kinks, p3do, non-con

I do not write smut under any circumstances. If you'd like to make a request, you can choose from the prompt list or submit your own idea.

I've received a few disrespectful comments in the past and have chosen to ignore them. I will continue to do so with any future hate comments. Just a reminder, I am a minor, so these kinds of messages are especially inappropriate.

If you don’t like my writing, feel free to scroll past my blog—there’s no need to send hate comments.

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY MY WRITING AND CLAIM IT AS YOUR OWN.

I’m pretty indecisive, so if you notice my blog changing from time to time, it’s just me figuring out which colors I like best hehe!

If you come across my work being copied or reposted, please let me know!

Meeting Walburga

Regulus brings Harry to meet his grandmother

[Regulus Black x Fem Potter! reader]

word count: 785

warnings: hurt/comfort, Walburga being a meanie to Harry

-

Regulus wasn’t entirely sure why he agreed to this.

It was a terrible idea. He knew that. Y/N knew that. Even Kreacher, who had loyally followed him into this new life, had given him a wary look when he mentioned visiting 12 Grimmauld Place.

Yet, here they were.

Harry held Regulus’ hand tightly as they stood outside the Black family’s ancestral home. The looming townhouse was as dark and unwelcoming as ever, its iron-wrought serpent door knocker glinting in the dim London light. Regulus exhaled sharply, tightening his grip on his son’s small hand.

“Stay close to me,” he murmured.

Harry nodded, his green eyes wide as he stared up at the tall building. “Are you sure she won’t like… hex me?” he whispered, only half-joking.

Regulus almost smirked. She would if she could.

Instead, he knocked.

The door swung open almost immediately, revealing Kreacher. His large, bat-like ears twitched as he looked down at Harry. For a long moment, he was silent, his expression unreadable. Then, to Harry’s surprise, the elf bowed low.

“Master Regulus,” he croaked. “Young Master Potter.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. Master Potter? No one had ever called him that before.

Regulus gave a curt nod, stepping inside and ushering Harry in after him. The house smelled the same—dust, old magic, and a hint of something burning in the fireplace. The walls were lined with dark portraits, and Harry nearly jumped as one of them moved.

But before he could get a proper look, a voice rang through the house—sharp, commanding, and dripping with disdain.

“Regulus.”

Harry turned toward the voice and saw her.

Walburga Black stood at the foot of the grand staircase, dressed in deep emerald green. Her sharp features were set in stone, her dark eyes taking in her son before shifting to Harry.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Regulus straightened his shoulders, his grip on Harry’s hand firm. “Mother.”

Walburga’s lips thinned as her gaze swept over Harry like he was an insect. “So,” she said slowly, coldly. “This is what you’ve been reduced to. Raising a half-blood.”

Harry stiffened, instinctively stepping closer to Regulus.

Regulus’ expression didn’t change. “He is my son.”

Walburga scoffed. “He is James Potter’s son.” Her voice was venomous. “A disgrace to the family name.”

Harry felt his face grow hot, but before he could say anything, Regulus spoke—his voice steady, but edged with steel.

“He is my son,” he repeated, quieter this time. “And I will not tolerate you speaking of him that way.”

Walburga’s eyes darkened. “You dare bring him into this house?”

“I brought him here so you could meet your grandson,” Regulus said, his tone even. “Not to hear your outdated prejudices.”

Harry bit his lip, gripping Regulus’ sleeve. He didn’t understand everything, but he knew she didn’t like him. He could feel it.

For a long, tense moment, Walburga simply stared at them.

Then, to Harry’s utter shock, she let out a low chuckle.

“You’ve changed,” she murmured, her gaze locked onto Regulus. “Not that it matters. The blood in your veins remains the same. That thing” —her eyes flicked to Harry— “does not.”

Harry flinched.

Regulus’ jaw tightened. “Come, Harry,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “We’re leaving.”

Harry didn’t hesitate, stepping quickly in line beside him as Regulus turned on his heel.

As they reached the door, Walburga’s voice rang out again.

“When the time comes,” she said, “you’ll regret your choices, Regulus.”

Regulus didn’t stop walking.

Kreacher, who had remained silent through the exchange, gave a deep bow as they passed.

As soon as they stepped outside, Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Regulus glanced down at him. “Are you alright?”

Harry hesitated, then nodded. “…She doesn’t like me.”

Regulus sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “That doesn’t matter,” he muttered. Then, more softly, “I do.”

Harry blinked up at him.

“…Mama does, too,” he said after a moment.

Regulus smirked. “Of course she does. She’s your mother.”

Harry smiled a little, shuffling closer to Regulus as they started walking again.

“…Do you think Kreacher likes me?”

Regulus chuckled, glancing back at the house. “I think he’s figuring it out.”

Harry hummed. “I liked him.”

Regulus raised a brow. “You did?”

“He bowed,” Harry said simply. “I think that means he kinda likes me.”

Regulus shook his head in amusement. “You are far too optimistic.”

But as they made their way home, he found himself silently grateful.

Harry would never know the cold walls of that house. He would never be raised in darkness, surrounded by cruel whispers of blood purity and superiority.

He had a family.

A real one.

-

previous chapter <- -> next chapter

Uncle Moony and Siri 🌟

Uncle Moony and Uncle Siri visit

[regulus black x fem potter! reader]

warnings: fluff

It was a quiet morning at the Potter-Black household, the kind that Y/N had learned to cherish. The storm from the night before had passed, leaving behind a crisp autumn breeze that drifted through the open windows. Harry sat cross-legged on the living room floor, carefully stacking his wooden blocks, his tongue peeking out in concentration.

Regulus was sitting in the armchair, a book in one hand, a cup of tea in the other, looking as composed as ever. Y/N was beside Harry on the rug, sorting through his toys when suddenly—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The front door shook under the weight of impatient knocking.

Regulus barely looked up from his book. “I am not answering that,” he muttered, sipping tea.

Y/N sighed, already knowing who it was. “If we ignore him, he’ll just keep knocking louder.”

Sure enough—BANG. BANG. BA—

“Alright, alright!” Y/N called as she stood up and approached the door, throwing it open to reveal a very smug-looking Sirius Black, leaning casually against the frame.

“Why, hello there, darling sister-in-law,” Sirius greeted dramatically. “Your favorite Black has arrived.”

Behind him, Remus stood with a patient smile, holding a small box wrapped in brown paper. “I told him to knock like a normal person,” he said apologetically.

“I did knock like a normal person,” Sirius said, grinning as he stepped inside. “With enthusiasm.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but stepped aside to let them in.

At the sound of new voices, Harry perked up. His little face lit up, and he scrambled to his feet. “Uncle Siri! Uncle Moony!”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter as he scooped Harry up, spinning him in the air. “There’s my favorite kiddo! Getting bigger every time I see you, huh?”

Harry giggled wildly, his tiny hands gripping onto Sirius’s robes. “Faster, Uncle Siri!”

“Not in the house,” Regulus said flatly from his armchair.

Sirius ignored him and did one more spin before setting Harry down.

Remus crouched beside Harry, handing him the small package. “I brought you a little something, Harry,” he said warmly.

Harry gasped, taking the package with wide eyes. “A present?”

“Just a little one,” Remus said with a soft smile. “Go on, open it.”

Harry eagerly tore into the paper, revealing a small enchanted book filled with moving pictures of magical creatures. His face lit up. “Wow!” He carefully flipped through the pages, watching a tiny Hippogriff flap its wings before running to Y/N. “Mama, look!”

“That’s amazing, love,” Y/N said, ruffling his hair. “What do you say to Uncle Moony?”

“Thank you, Uncle Moony!” Harry beamed.

“Anytime, little one,” Remus replied, ruffling his hair in return.

Sirius, meanwhile, flopped dramatically onto the couch, stretching his arms across the back. “So, where’s the good tea? Or—better yet—firewhisky?”

Regulus finally looked up from his book, narrowing his eyes. “It’s eleven in the morning.”

“And?” Sirius smirked. “I was up late doing very important things.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Sirius, was that very important thing a drinking contest with Mad-Eye Moody?”

“… No?”

Remus sighed. “Yes.”

Harry, still absorbed in his book, sat himself right next to Regulus in the armchair, leaning against him. Regulus instinctively wrapped an arm around the boy, holding his book in one hand while absentmindedly carding his fingers through Harry’s messy hair.

Sirius watched them with a smirk. “Never thought I’d see the day. My little brother—a proper parent.”

Regulus shot him a glare. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Sirius grinned. “It means I’m still processing the fact that you—the grumpy, brooding Black—ended up raising my godson instead of me.” He leaned forward, winking at Harry. “But don’t worry kid, I’m the fun uncle. When you get older, I’ll teach you all the best pranks.”

Harry giggled. “Really?”

Regulus scowled. “No.”

“Yes,” Sirius countered, nodding at Harry.

Y/N snorted. “No pranks today, at least. I’d rather not clean up whatever chaos you unleash.”

Sirius sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave.” He paused, then grinned at Harry. “For now.”

Regulus groaned, rubbing his temple. “Why did I let you into my house?”

Remus chuckled, sipping his tea. “Because you secretly love us.”

Regulus scoffed but didn’t argue.

Y/N just smiled, watching as Harry curled up happily between them all, his laughter filling the house. Whatever storm had been outside last night, whatever nightmares had tried to creep in, Harry was safe here—with his family. Even if Sirius was a bad influence.

-

previous chapter <- -> next chapter

master list

The Battle of Hogwarts

The Potter-Black's fight in the Battle of Hogwarts.

Regulus Black x Fem Potter! reader]

word count: 815

warning: mentions of war, death, hurt/comfort, almost dying

The air crackled with curses and screams, the ground trembling beneath every explosion. Smoke stung Harry's eyes as he ducked behind a crumbling stone pillar, his chest heaving. His wand hand was steady, but his heart was racing. Across the battlefield, Death Eaters swarmed like shadows, their masks faceless and unforgiving.

“Protego!” Harry shouted, deflecting a curse aimed at Neville. He spun, firing off a Stupefy toward a masked figure. The spell hit true, and the Death Eater crumpled. He was about to move again when something caught his eye through the smoke.

There—at the heart of the chaos—were his parents.

Y/N and Regulus stood side by side, backs to each other, fighting with the synchronized precision of two people who had spent years learning each other’s rhythms. Y/N’s wand slashed through the air as fiery runes lit up the darkness, forming ancient symbols that struck down three Death Eaters in a single sweep. Regulus was a blur of defensive magic, shields shimmering like a protective cocoon around his wife as he deflected curses with ruthless efficiency.

“Come on, you bastards!” Y/N snarled, hurling a Blasting Curse that shattered a marble column, toppling Death Eaters beneath the debris.

Regulus cast a cutting hex, sending another enemy sprawling. His eyes flicked up for the briefest second—and locked with Harry’s across the battlefield.

The look said everything: Stay safe. Stay alive.

Harry gave a grim nod and turned back into the fray. But even as he fought, the image of his parents—unbreakable, untouchable—stayed with him.

Not far away, Danny, now 15, stood with her back to the Great Hall’s shattered entrance. Her hair was tangled, and her lip was bleeding. Her wand hand was firm, though, her father’s lessons echoing in her mind.

“Stay grounded, little star. Predict their movements. Strike hard. Strike smart.”

The Death Eater before her sneered beneath his mask. “Look at you. A little girl playing hero.”

Danny’s grip tightened. “Avia Ignis!” she shouted.

Golden, bird-shaped flames shot from her wand, screeching as they slammed into his shield. The Death Eater staggered. Danny didn’t hesitate. “Expelliarmus!”

The man’s wand flew from his grasp, and Danny followed with a swift “Stupefy.” He collapsed in a heap.

Breathing heavily, she turned—just in time to see the ceiling above her crack. Massive chunks of stone and timber groaned as they began to fall.

Her eyes widened.

Run.

She bolted toward the corridor, sprinting with all her strength as the ceiling collapsed behind her. The noise was deafening. A jagged block clipped her shoulder, sending her sprawling. She scrambled to her feet, heart hammering. A deafening crack sounded above her, and—

The world turned to darkness.

Hours later, the battle was over. The Dark Lord was gone, his forces scattered or captured. But Hogwarts lay in ruins, and the losses were staggering.

Y/N stood amidst the rubble, her hands trembling as she gripped Regulus’s arm. Her eyes were wild, scanning the battlefield for any sign of their daughter.

“She was there, Reg,” Y/N gasped. “Near the Great Hall. I saw her fighting.”

Regulus, pale and bloodied, pulled her into his arms. “We’ll find her.” His voice cracked.

Harry appeared beside them, face streaked with dirt and ash. “I’ll help look.”

The three of them moved toward the hall, stepping over shattered stone and fallen bodies. Y/N’s breaths came faster with each step. Her eyes landed on a collapsed archway, a familiar child-sized wand lying just beyond the rubble.

“No,” she whispered. Her knees gave out, and she collapsed with a broken sob. “No, no, no.”

Regulus knelt beside her, pulling her into his chest even as his own shoulders shook. Harry stood frozen, unable to look away from the wand.

The silence was suffocating.

And then—

There was a faint shift beneath the rubble.

A small hand, scraped and bloodied, pushed through the stones.

Harry lunged forward, yanking rocks away. “Danny! Danny, we’re here!”

The debris shifted further, and with a low groan, Danica emerged. Her curls were matted with dust, her face streaked with grime, but her eyes were bright and alive.

“Mama?” she croaked.

Y/N scrambled to her knees, pulling Danny into a crushing embrace. “Oh, my baby—my baby.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she rocked her daughter back and forth.

Regulus dropped beside them, cupping Danny’s face. “You’re okay, starshine. You’re okay.”

Danny’s lips quirked into a wobbly smile. “Told you I was good at dueling, Baba.”

Harry barked out a watery laugh and ruffled her hair. “Yeah, Hazzy’s proud of you, squirt.”

Danny leaned against Y/N’s chest, eyes fluttering closed. “I’m sleepy,” she mumbled.

“That’s okay,” Y/N whispered, kissing the crown of her head. “Rest, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

As the first light of dawn broke through the shattered ceiling, the Potter-Black family sat together amidst the ruins—bruised, battered, but whole.

previous chapter <-

Uhh I’m dying for like angsty fluff w lee so I was thinking about him w the B1 prompt

Not when I just realized

Lee just realized how much you really meant to him.

Lee (bones and all) x eater!reader

requested by anon.

word count: 687

warnings: attempts of running away

note: i hope this was angsty-fluff just the way you wanted 🪼

find more here: masterlist, Lee (bones and all) master list

The night air was heavy with the smell of wet earth and something else, something darker, metallic, that neither of you would admit to but both recognized. Lee's truck idled a few feet away, parked quietly, headlights slicing through the trees. The two of you stood just off the dirt road, your breathing shallow, your hands shaking at your sides.

You had attempted to escape. You truly had. But Lee was faster. He always was.

You waited for him to sleep, his breathing slow and steady next to you, before you slipped out of the truck. You crept cautiously, not wanting the dry leaves and twigs lying about to give away your footsteps. Your scuffed drawstring bag, stuffed with what little you had to bring—an additional shirt, a canteen of water, a handful of crumpled dollar bills—was thrown over your shoulder as you set foot into the great unknown.

You didn't know where you were headed. Just away. Away from the starvation, from the things you'd done, from the boy who had somehow occupied your whole world.

You'd gone a mile before you noticed his footsteps behind you. Quick, firm.

"Stop," Lee had bellowed, his tone brusque, slicing across the stillness of the woods.

Your heart had raced, but you hadn't turned. Not yet. Not until he slipped his hand around your wrist, tight but not unkind, and stopped you in your tracks. You could have struggled, could have screamed. But you knew he'd never release you without a battle. 

And so here you stood, motionless, suspended between what you had and what still lay between you.

"Where you gonna go?" His voice was gentler than you anticipated, but there was something naked in it, something desperate.

You didn't look at the darkness ahead. "I don't know."

"Bullshit."

You turned, your eyes colliding with his. Even in the dim light, you could sense the fear behind them. Not anger. Not frustration. Fear. And it destroyed you.

"You always knew this wasn't forever," you whispered.

Lee shook his head, moving closer. His fingers curled as if he wanted to touch you but wasn't certain you'd allow it. "I never knew that," he whispered, his voice rough. "I never considered it like that. You leaving—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "You can't leave me now. Not when I just figured out how much you mean to me."

Your chest hurt, as if something in you had been sucked out. You wished to yell at him, inform him that he did not get to do this, to pull you back when it was simple and hold on tight when you attempted to leave.

Instead, you swallowed hard. "You'll be alright."

"That isn't true," he stated, his voice cracking. "You know that isn't true. You're the only one who knows."

Your throat constricted. Naturally, you did know. Who but another Eater would comprehend the hunger, the isolation, the way the world would ever reject you? You and Lee had lived together for so long now, traveling from spot to spot, protecting each other, feeding each other. And you were the one attempting to leave now, as if that was even an option.

"Stay," he begged. "I'll get it right next time. I won't exclude you, I promise.”

You hunted his features for the deceit, but none was there. Only Lee, naked and open in a fashion, ever exposed himself to anyone. You did not want to go; reality seeped into your joints like a wound. You'd only been frightened. Frightened of needing him so intensely.

Your fingers quivered, reflecting his, before you finally bridged the space between you, nudging your forehead against his. Lee breathed shakily, his hands staying at your waist, awaiting the invitation. You granted it by inclining towards him, allowing his heat to anchor you.

“I hate you for keeping me here," you whispered.

Lee released a wheezy, half-laugh, angling his head just so that your lips skimmed. "I'd hate me too."

And despite everything, despite the hunger, the danger, the blood that would always stain both of your hands, you weren’t going anywhere.

✮⋆˙ 𝐀 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲-𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐩

╰┈➤ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, Willy Wonka, ever playful, boops his wife Y/N’s nose while teasing her about her serious focus on the factory’s caramel. Their lighthearted exchange is filled with affection, reminding them both that even in a world of chaos, love and laughter are the sweetest creations.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 675୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

⊹₊⟡ ⋆ 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚖𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈·✦

The sweet aroma of chocolate and caramel filled the air, mingling with the hum of machinery and the faint, whimsical tunes of the Oompa Loompas as they worked in the background. Willy Wonka, with his vibrant purple coat and signature top hat tilted slightly askew, was striding through the factory, his cane tapping rhythmically on the floor. But today, his usual focus on his candy empire was entirely derailed by one thing—or rather, one person.

His wife, Y/N, was seated near the caramel mixing station, completely unaware of the mischief brewing in Willy’s mind. She was absorbed in watching the caramel’s glossy swirl, the soft glow of the factory lights reflecting off its surface. She loved moments like these—moments where she could quietly enjoy the magic of Willy’s world without interruption.

Willy, however, had other plans. He stopped a few feet away from her, his blue eyes sparkling with playful energy as he tilted his head, observing her. She looked beautiful, as she always did, but there was something about her calm focus that made him want to disturb her peace in the most endearing way possible.

Clearing his throat dramatically, Willy stepped closer, the heels of his shoes clicking softly against the tiled floor. Y/N looked up at him, her lips curving into a warm smile.

“What’s that look for?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at the mischievous grin plastered on his face.

Willy didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned on his cane, peering at her as though he were studying one of his latest candy inventions. “You’ve got something,” he said finally, his tone light and teasing.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “Something? Where?”

He pointed vaguely at her face, his finger hovering in the air. “Right there. On your nose.”

Instinctively, Y/N’s hand flew up to her face, brushing at her nose. “Did I get it?”

Willy’s grin widened, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Nope, still there. Hold still!”

Before she could react, he leaned in, his finger darting out to gently boop the tip of her nose. His touch was soft but precise, and the moment lingered in the air as Y/N blinked in surprise.

“Boop!” he exclaimed, his voice lilting with pure delight.

“Willy!” she cried, her laughter bubbling up as she swatted his hand away. “What was that for?”

“For fun,” he replied with a dramatic flourish, spinning his cane in a circle before resting it on his shoulder. “A nose as cute as yours deserves a boop every now and then.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Insufferably in love with you,” he quipped, leaning closer so their faces were mere inches apart. His grin softened into something warmer as he added, “I couldn’t resist. You looked too serious staring at all that caramel.”

“Well, someone has to keep an eye on things while you’re busy being a menace,” she teased, poking his chest lightly.

“Oh, I’ll take that as a compliment,” Willy said, straightening up with exaggerated pride. “After all, isn’t a little mischief the secret ingredient to happiness?”

Before Y/N could reply, Willy leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “You brighten this place more than any candy ever could,” he said softly, his voice losing its playful edge for just a moment.

Y/N’s cheeks warmed at his words, and she reached out to gently tug on his lapel. “You’re lucky you’re charming, Mr. Wonka. Otherwise, I might have thrown caramel at you for that boop.”

“Ah, but what a sweet revenge that would be,” he replied, his grin returning full force.

Laughing, Y/N shook her head, letting him pull her to her feet. Together, they walked hand in hand through the vibrant chaos of the factory, the scent of chocolate and sugar swirling around them. Willy’s finger occasionally darted out toward her nose, threatening another boop, and each time she batted him away, her laughter echoing through the candy-coated wonderland.