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laneywrld · 1 month

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things lost and things found | Lewis Hamilton

part one

word count: 9.2k

warnings: smut, smut, more smut, fluff.

There's no way for a friends-with-benefits agreement to fail when both parties understand the rules.

"Do you ever get tired?"

Lewis turns his head to look at her inquisitively.

"What do you mean by that, Clem?" He chuckles.

Clem turns over onto her side, propping her head up in one hand.

"Do you think about having a life of your own without racing but with a family, a wife, and kids? Do you ever want to go home and stay home?"

Lewis stares Clementine in her dark eyes before he turns and looks back up at the blank ceiling.

"I don't know." He whispered into the air. "I don't have much time to think about things like that, serious relationships and such." He winces as he says the words.

"You're not hurting me, Lew, I know what this arrangement is. I was just curious." Clem chuckled, plopping back onto her back. She pulls the covers up to conceal her bare chest.

They lie in silence again, and Lewis is left to think about what she'd just asked him.

He spent a lot of his time in a serious relationship, and immediately after that ended, he was in his single bachelor phase; somehow, as the years went on, it never ended. That's how he's gotten Clementine in his bed.

Of all the girls he chose to spend his time with, Clementine was easily his favorite. She wasn't artificial or an ass-kisser to him; she was simply herself. And Lewis wasn't used to coming across women like that, given his status and all.

Clementine was actually the complete opposite of every other girl in his rotation. She was younger than him, yes, but she was also smart and had dreams she wanted to achieve on her own. He liked to joke that everything about her screamed old lady. Clementine liked that.

What's cooler than an old lady?

"I'm going to take that as a compliment. I can't wait to get old; there's beauty in knowing you've lived; I know I'm going to spend my life fulfilling my potential. It'd be cool to be an eccentric old lady, just happy and peaceful. Content with life."

It was entirely by chance that he ran into her at all that night two years ago. He had been taking a late-night walk in the streets of New York when he first saw her.

Initially, her style caught his attention, but the closer he got to her, the more noticeable was her smile and then her voice. God, she had the voice of an angel. She had that classic American drawl, so sultry and sweet like she was straight out of the fifties but with a twist.

Then he realizes that he's seen her before, and he stops in his tracks, trying to pinpoint where exactly he'd recognized her gorgeous face from.

"Do I know you?" Lewis questions confidently.

Clem halts, her lips puckering in as she squints at the unfamiliar man. "Sorry, Sir. I don't think so."

She surely doesn't recognize him.

And then it clicks, he snaps. "My photographer, Timothy McGurr!"

"Oh wow," she smiles. "I love Timmy. You said he's your photographer?"

"Yes, for the last four years."

"Wow, four years." She marvels, "You model?"

"No." He laughs, shaking his head, "I race cars."

"Nascar?" She wonders, tilting her head to the side.

"Formula One." He corrects, and she hums, impressed.

"I've heard serious things about you guys over there. Anyhow, it was nice meeting you," she trails off, allowing him to introduce himself.

"Lewis." He sticks his hand out, "Lewis Hamilton."

As she shakes his hand, her phone lights up with a notification just as a black SUV pulls in. "That's me. It was a pleasure meeting you Mr, Hamilton." She smiles kindly, and then she slips into the vehicle and rides off into the night.

Lewis stands there for a second. He doesn't know why, but he feels drawn to her for some reason.

The very next morning, he called his photographer for her details. Lewis has always been rather bold, so he isn't nervous when he dials her number. "Hi, Clementine?"

And the rest was history.

Lewis has learned one specific thing about Clem since their rendezvous began. She was an intense person. She liked to talk about any and everything. Lewis didn't mind it, though. It was nice to unpack with someone he knew wouldn't judge him.

She had a way of making anything she asked feel deep. Lewis was both enamored and intimidated by that.

Just as she was intuitive, she was equally as open. Lewis knew he could always bounce the question back to her, and she'd give him the most well-thought-out and theoretical answer.

He loved listening to her talk just as much as he loved fucking her.

"Do you ever get tired?" He ricochets.

"All of the time, and it's sad because I'm still so young, but I often wonder if any of this is even worth it. Is slaving away so hard going to be worth it in the future if I've spent my glory days basking in trying to find glory."

"I have faith in you, Clem. You're already lightyears ahead of the rest of us with that mind of yours."

She chuckles, and they bask in the comfortable silence for a while longer, both looking up at the ceiling of his New York penthouse like they're staring out into the galaxy.

"Do you feel like you have enough glory?"

"No," he answers honestly, "I won't be content until I reclaim my eighth."

From the corner of his eye, he sees her head lull to the side and stare at him. Lewis doesn't get uncomfortable when Clem stares at him like he does when most people do. The idea of her reading into him is flattering more than unsettling.

"If you weren't a driver, what would you want to be?"

"A designer of all sorts, really. Music, fashion, you name it." He lists off, and she lets out an mhhm sound.

"I can actually see that. You have a very creative mind." She praises.

"What about you? What would Clementine Russell be doing right now if she wasn't an actress?"

She chuckles, "Well, for starters, I wouldn't be naked in your bed. I'd probably be somewhere in the middle of nowhere, like Montana." She gasps, "Yeah, Montana! And I'd have a farm full of animals that I'd never eat, and I'd go out and sit and paint or write more stories that no one would ever see. If I could go back in time, I'd just write my stories, not play in them. I would hike the same mountain every day and watch the sunset. Yeah, I'd sit and watch the sunset every day and admire how beautiful everything becomes. "

For some reason, that statement holds a more significant sentiment than she intended.

"You sure do have a way with words."

"I try."

Silence falls over that pair again until she breaks it.

"Do you think I'm annoying?"

"No, never." Lewis reveals, "I actually like having you here to talk to; why do you ask?"

"Sometimes I feel like I talk too much and ask too many questions."

"I think you make people feel seen when you ask questions the way you do." He hums. "Do people ask you questions?"

"No, not really."

"Do you wish people asked you questions, Clem?"

"Yes."

That's when Lewis realizes that all that glimmers isn't gold. Clementine Walker had the life of a star. She could do anything she wanted at any given time. Yet she wasn't content with her life. She was actually rather lonely.

"I write scripts for myself to act out when I want to talk about something." She chuckles dryly. "That's pathetic."

And suddenly, Lewis feels terrible for not asking the woman more questions. He feels like a shit person for receiving her and giving her nothing in return. Clementine was better than therapy for him; who gave therapy to her?

"What if we lay in bed after every meetup and we just talk? I consider you to be a friend Clem. I like listening to you. I like hearing about you, too."

"Okay."

"We can start now?"

"You first." She has a giddy smile on her face as she turns over to face him.

"Why do you think you feel everything so deeply?"

She hums, her eyes casting downward as she allows the question to ruminate.

"I expect everything to be meaningful. I have a hard time seeing anything objectively. Everything has to mean something to me, and if it doesn't, what's the point? If it has no purpose, how am I supposed to accept it? I feel so deeply because every word, action, and situation has to mean something; there has to be a reason behind it. I've never had someone tell me that things weren't that deep; I wasn't taught to brush things off; I was taught to feel and to try to understand everything and everyone."

"I think that's beautiful. You're such a gracious being, you know that?"

She whispers a quiet thanks as she thinks over what to ask him.

"What's one thing you lost as a kid that you wish you could get back?"

"I had a remote-controlled big Homer car when I was a kid, and I used to drive it in the park every day. I got distracted one day and left without it; when I came back the next day, it was gone."

"Who gave it to you?" Clem inquires, and when Lewis turns onto his side to face her, she looks so intrigued by what he has to say. He doesn't think anyone has ever cared so much for what he has to say if it wasn't involving his career.

"My dad, for my sixth birthday. We were poor, so it meant a lot to me; I really cherished it. Felt like I took it for granted, I loved that car so much, but I left it. How could I forget something that important to me?"

Naturally, Lewis opens up to Clementine.

"You can love something and still lose it, which illustrates how much you adore it in the end. You never really know how much you appreciate something until you no longer have it." Clem enlightens.

Lewis wonders how her brain can process such complex thoughts in mere seconds.

"What have you lost?"

"A letter from my dad." Clem hums. "When he was in prison before things got bad with my mom and he stopped reaching out, I was turning eight, and he sent this beautiful card. It was Clementine orange, and when you opened it, a three-dimensional cake popped out with like a million yellow candles. I remember it saying these candles don't compare to the light you brought to the world on this day many years ago." Clem chuckles as she describes the elaborate birthday card. She picks at Lewis' sheets as she speaks.

He sees her lips pressed together, and she turns to face the ceiling again. She doesn't seem like she intends to keep talking.

"I'm listening, y'know. I'd love to hear more." Under the covers, his hand travels down until it catches hold of Clems.

"I-um, He wrote his message in like really elegant cursive, and I was a kid at the time, so I had my grandpa read it to me over and over, like every day, until I had fully memorized it. I had never seen my dad in person. I had never heard his voice, not even over the phone. I had never even gotten a letter from him before. Still, the things he wrote in that letter were beautiful. I remember feeling a little less lonely as if he loved me unconditionally. There were dried tears embedded in the paper material. I knew he cried as he wrote it, and that made me feel like, damn, this is a man who means what he says, feels exactly what he writes. I don't know when I lost that letter or how I just knew when I went for it again. It was nowhere to be found. I'm forgetting the words he wrote to me."

"Have you heard from him since?"

"Once but not directly. When I turned fifteen, he was released. He felt like he wouldn't know how to be a father when he got out. Which I understood. I can't force anyone to have a relationship with me. It must’ve been hard going in when your child is an infant and coming out to her fully bloomed. He cried on the phone to my grandpa every time he argued with my mom. She'd say nasty things to him, like how he'd never be a father to me and how I was better off. I figured when you're locked in a cell, and all you can think about is going home to your child, it must’ve been hard to hear that you would never account for anything. I believe he gave up. Not everyone is strong enough to take on that kind of mental battle."

Even as Clementine describes how fucking sucky her childhood was, she is still showing grace to the people who ruined her innocence.

"He never asked to speak to me during these calls. My mother always kept him at a distance when he was in prison. If he had written more letters than the one he sent to my grandpa, like he wrote that he did, I never got them. She was good at telling him that she didn't want him in my life. I don't blame her either; neither of them was ready to be parents. I got a call on my eighteenth birthday. It was just breathing on the other side for a while. I had a feeling it was him, so I didn't hang up, but it was a gravely voice on the other end and he sounded a little choked up. Said the exact same line from my birthday card, I'm not sure if you like cake, but eat a lot of it today princess. Happy birthday. And then the call disconnected. Kind of fucked me up a little bit because I think I was just getting to a point where I was finally okay with not having parents."

"I'm sorry." Lewis solaces.

"It's cool, builds character." She jokes dropping her elbow and lying completely on her side.

"I pride you on your gracefulness, truly."

"My grandpa always told me that if you can find grace in failings, life becomes more beautiful. If you can find grace in every situation, eventually, those graces will catch up to you. Everyone deserves to have grace; who am I to hold something above someone else because of how it made me feel? You never know what made someone act the way they did. In the end, it may have affected them more than me, but as long as I'm gracious and I consider these kind of things to be a possibility it makes it easier for me."

Lewis thinks back to all the times he handled situations without grace, when he allowed himself to blow up over small things, and how, in the end, it made situations worse than they needed to be. He internally hums at the realization.

"Shit."

She is shuffling from his bed, sheets clutched tightly against his chest.

She gracefully moves around his room, the sheets fitting her like a gown. Lewis props himself up on one arm, watching her gather her belongings.

When she tosses the sheet back onto the bed, he watches as she pulls on her pants and steals his button-up to throw over her thin tank top.

She sits on the edge of his bed, throwing on her worn Adidas sambas.

"It's been a blast, Sir Hamilton." She bows, and he softly launches a pillow at her. She catches it with a sweet grin and places it at his feet. "I have to be on set early tomorrow. My assistant sent a car for me."

"I'll call you when I'm back in town," he suggests, and she nods, letting out a noise of agreement as she saunters over to his bedroom door.

"Be safe out there on the track." She blows him a kiss, and then she is gone, and he hears his front door close gently.

Lewis likes spending time with Clem. She has a way of taking every ounce of stress from his bones.

Lewis wasn't a relationship kind of guy, and he liked that Clem understood that. She wasn't trying to force a relationship on him or was convinced she could change his mind.

Clem was there for the great sex and the even better conversations. The two of them had made great friends out of each other, and they were both content with the status of their association.

Lewis never told Clementine this, but he liked watching her work. He liked how she could put out art, and he could resonate with it. Lewis thinks that Clem is the most emotionally intelligent person he's ever met, which is why everything she puts her hands on just works.

And it shows. Clementine is the kind of person whose words sound like they're straight from classic literature. She has a way of speaking that instantly captivates every person in her proximity.

Clementine was a Jill of trades. She liked to act, but she was an even better writer. This is why she was awarded co-director of her award-winning show after helping to direct only three episodes. He knew she had a knack for all things creative. She liked to draw, paint, and read, and she had a thing for tattoos just as much as he did.

Clementine was actually so fucking cool.

People loved her naturally; she only had to be herself, and it made people gravitate towards her.

Being around Clem was like having the hands of an angel on you. It was impossible to feel troubled, even if you were going through the most unfortunate or stressful circumstances. If you had Clem, trust you'd feel nirvana.

Her words echo in his mind. I write scripts for myself to act out when I want to talk about something.

He switches on his television and clicks on the Netflix app. It's the first option under his 'continue watching' category, and he presses resume.

Lewis loved her show, though he never admitted it. It was artsy and different than what was new and hot now. Clem channeled all of her favorites to make this show. He remembers her describing her obsession with Jim Carrey and The Truman Show. Her favorite movie of all time was Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind, and her favorite character also shared her name.

He knew that Clementine cried when she read Tuesdays with Morrie, just like she did when she watched Requiem for a Dream. She had an odd obsession with The Joker movie and was even more obsessed with the lore of how each Joker is portrayed differently. She always saw herself in Charlie, from the perks of being a wallflower.

She rewatched What's Eating Gilbert Grape at least once a week. If you asked her, Tim Burton was the best director in the world, and she had a special connection to Edward Scissorhands. She also loved anything with a narrator.

She was right. It makes you feel each character a little bit more to hear their every thought.

He now knows that she likes to narrate her own show because she likes to talk about what she feels. No one asks her how she feels.

Everything that Clem likes is so deep and complex, and it fits her perfectly.

He must admit that he had never heard of any of these shows, movies, or books before meeting Clementine. But seeing how passionately she described them had him desperate to enlighten himself. He sees the inspiration of it all in her show.

Every episode starts with a question. Clem appears facing away from the camera, an oversized Carhartt denim jacket adorning her frame. He sees that she is sitting on a mountain, a camera held to her face, taking pictures of the most scenic view he's ever seen.

Her voice emerges through the speaker, yet her mouth is unmoving.

"You can go anywhere in the world under one condition. You'd have to stay there forever, everything unchanged and nothing new will ever come. Where do you choose?"

The camera is still panned out but moves to the side, where he views her relaxed frame from the side. As the camera zooms in she breaks the fourth wall, turning to face the camera. The sky is oddly vividly blue in the background and the clouds are all weirdly perfect.

"Probably here."

As the sun sets, the sky adorned in perfect warm hues, she sets the camera beside her and folds her hands in her lap. She turns to face the beautiful view, and she looks more content with life than she's ever seen.

Her voice rings through the speaker again as the camera pans out, and her body begins to look smaller and smaller against the vast sky.

"You can still see the sunset even on the darkest of days.”

The next time Lewis sees Clem is at her the Cannes movie festival.

She is obviously the lady of the hour, and he's had a hard time catching up with her.

When he finally does see her, his breath hitches as she maneuvers through the crowd and away from the red carpet in a very elaborate gown. She looks like a princess.

Like she can feel his eyes on her, her head turns and she sees Lewis standing amongst a group of other celebrities.

There are three people surrounding her. Zeus, her bodyguard, SK her assistant and finally her publicist Nia.

She approaches him, ready to greet him with a wide grin; Lewis has a grin of his own covering his face as he steps ahead of the group.

"Lewis, Hi!" She pitches, raising her arms to hug him; he happily accepts her embrace, wrapping his own around her frame.

"Can't wait to see you on the big screen." He boosts, and she smiles up at him, ready to reply, when a hand clamps down over her wrist and begins pulling her away, "Sorry, got to keep going, Clem."

She offers him a rushed smile, lifting her dress so that she can exit with speed. Lewis has never once felt like the fan in a situation until it came to Clem.

"So the movie is going to be about cannibalism?" His friend asks, looking through the pamphlet.

"No," Lewis combats. "I mean, yes, but it's deeper than that, the flesh represents..." and he drones on describing the lore of her new movie, Bones and All.

His description is almost word for word the way you described it to him after he asked the same exact question.

"So it's a movie about eating people?"

Clementine laughed, shaking her head, and moved to sit against his headboard. Her skin was still flushed from their previous actions, and her mouth was dry.

"Cannibalism is just the placeholder for many different vices. Everyone has their vices. By using something that damn near everyone looks down on, the symbolism of just how serious these issues are get understood tenfold. Think of it like this, you get mental illness from one parent, and the other denies that you have it. They believe you're perfect, nothing is wrong, but deep inside, there is this illness growing in you and festering out of control that you can't get help for, that won't be accepted."

"Imagine being homosexual, imagine not being able to express that, especially in the eighties; it becomes a bliss you have to satisfy in private. Something you must keep a secret, or something bad will happen to you. Some vices are passed on, like alcoholism or addiction, and even trauma can be passed on, like mental illness; it's about how you have to hide it all, how it catches up to you, and how it ruins you. If you watch it, think about that, Lewis. Think about what each character represents. What is the flesh they're eating?"

Lewis cries during the movie. He sees that he is not the only one as the lights illuminate the cinema, and there are no dry eyes in sight. Lewis would never understand how Clem was able to have such a complex mind and also make it so simple and still artistic to the point where anyone could understand.

Lewis usually hates being forced to attend film festivals. He especially dreads the standing ovations that drag on and on. But he graciously stands for the entire seventeen minutes that her movie receives.

He's always told Clem that, at a certain point, she'd have to let that humbleness go. Lewis was a humble person, there was nothing wrong with it, but he didn't like that Clem thought she didn't deserve praise for her work. He wanted her to know she was the shit.

He feels his heart swell with pride as she marvels at the cheers, whoops, whistles, and applause.

He places his fingers between his lips, letting out a whistle of his own. It dominates the space, and she turns to face him like she knows it is him.

Clementine's grin grows impossibly larger, and she lifts her arm to wave at Lewis. He spreads his arms out in front of him and bows at her.

Clementine chuckles, shaking her head at him.

Although she attends the film festival every year, this was her first time presenting her work as a director. This was a huge deal to her. Not only was she the star actress in the film, but this was hers. Her work, her words, her art, and people loved it and understood.

As two more dreamy minutes pass on and the cinema falls into an air of collective chatter, she folds her hands over her heart and speaks to her fellow costars.

"Holy fucking shit," Timothee curses, "do you understand that we just got a nineteen-minute standing ovation?" He places her head between his hands, pulling it towards him and placing a kiss in her hair. "Fuck, Clem. You're a fucking creative genius, you know that?"

When Clementine finally got used to people she realized that she actually does like parties. Here she was being celebrated by people, some she knew, some she didn't all the way in France.

She is in a mansion in France, fresh off the red carpet, throwing back shots with every pat on the back. There is a thrill in being praised, and with each pat on the back or congratulatory kiss on the cheek she gets, she feels herself levitating.

When Clementine first got the idea for the movie, she stayed awake for twenty-four hours, holed up in her bedroom, typing away at her keyboard as she planned and created rough drafts of a proposal.

If you asked Clem, she doesn't think that she's a creative genius like everyone else believes. She thinks that she materializes how she feels into forms of art that people will understand. She doesn't sit and think long and hard or even look for targeted things to express. She just knows.

Clem wanted to write a movie for those she felt had been denying themselves. For the kids confused about their feelings and things they can't control. From alcoholism, sexual identity, mental illness, addiction, and all the way to feeling lonely and navigating life on your own. She wanted to make a movie that materialized how it feels to come of age without understanding the purpose of life. And she'd done it.

Clem wouldn't say she was particularly close to any of the people here at the afterparty, minus Timothee. They had grown very close since filming together.

Clem actually wouldn't say she was close to many people at all other than her small, tight-knit group of friends and, of course, Lewis. Which is ironic because their entire relationship is built on the basis of sex.

She can't lie; when she first met Lewis, she was instantly attracted to him. He had a certain kind of charm about him that just screamed, You're going to respect me.

Clem liked that Lewis stood ten toes behind what he believed, always. She liked that he was genuinely a kind person and not just pretending for the media. What he put out was actually who he was, and Clementine wasn't used to seeing that in the celebrity world.

Lewis fully intended to be friends with Clementine when he called her that first night, but the longer they were in each other’s presence, the more obvious it was to sense the lingering sexual tension between them.

Clem wasn't offended when Lewis admitted that he wanted to sleep with her and keep her around without the formalities of a romantic relationship.

In fact, she was fine with it.

She didn't judge him when he explained how he wasn't a relationship kind of guy. She listened intently when he described how demanding his job was, and she even hummed along in agreement when he concluded that sex can sometimes just be fun.

It'd been two years since she first met Lewis; she was older and more mature. More demanding of herself.

She was learning to let things go as the days passed and let things come when the world felt.

She feels like she's gotten to know herself better, and she owes a lot of that to the nearly 40-year-old driver who has taken the time to unravel parts of her that no one else bothered.

So when she sees Lewis walk through the grand entrance now dressed in a far more casual outfit than the black Louis Vuitton tuxedo that adorned his frame earlier, she can't help the way her smile makes her eyes crinkle.

She rushes from the bar, slipping past the guests, crowding the home, and speeds up the stairs as fast as her heels can take her.

She lets her dress fall at her feet as she tosses on her own less formal outfit and descends the stairs again in search of her friend.

He sees her first, perched on the stairs with a concentrated face, and he chuckles at just how focused she looks. Her eyes are scanning the crowd, and he waits patiently until her eyes catch his.

When they finally meet, he raises his hand in a cool wave, and she grins, skipping down the stairs. He raises his brows when she finally makes it to him after being stopped time and time again by other partygoers.

"Lady of the hour, huh?" He jokes, pulling her into him.

"I don't even know these people," she whispers, smiling softly and offering a wave as a drunken man passes by and calls out her name. She turns back to Lewis with fogged eyes, "Timothee wanted to throw an afterparty, so here we are."

"You have been celebrating?"

"I've taken a few shots or so." She smiles, "Can we get out of here?"

Lewis nods, "Yeah, of course."

His hand travels down and takes her own, leading her from the full house. "Where do you want to go, love?"

"Anywhere is fine; just want to be far away from people." She sighs.

Lewis peers down at her, watching as she scours the long driveway.

He motions her to his car and she slips from his hold already pacing towards it. She hops into the passenger side when she hears the car unlock and he plops down into the drivers seat.

"Why are you here in France? You didn't tell me you'd be here." Clem inquires as Lewis places his phone into her lap so that she can play music. He always preferred her music taste when they rode in the car late at night.

"I wanted to see the movie and support my friend." He smirked.

"You have to be in Monaco tomorrow!" she gasps. " You can't do that, Lew. You need rest. When did you even get here?"

"I touched down today after qualifying."

"No." Clem disapproves, "I could’ve just gotten you tickets to the premier. You must be so tired."

Lewis shakes his head, "M'fine. Besides, I wanted to be one of the first people to see it." Which was a lie because he was totally exhausted.

"Early flight tomorrow, then?" Clem asks.

Lewis only nods, already knowing her eyes are set on him. Frank Ocean begins to play through his speakers, and he hums along to the song playing. It brings upon his next thought.

"I say you posting in the studio?" He eyes, "Let me find out Clemy girl about to be in the booth spitting."

She laughs shaking her head, "not even, I was just there with Tyler. Did record a few vocals for him though."

"Maybe one day you should, I don't know, release something of your own."

Clem scoffs, "I know you think I can do everything. We're not all great at everything."

"It's true, do you think you can do it all, besides I've heard you singing in the shower; sounds nice."

"So you wait outside of the bathroom listening to me, creep."

He smacks his teeth, removing one hand from the wheel to blindly mush her.

"I'm serious, though. I think you have a beautiful voice."

"Thank you. Maybe one day we'll both stop playing in the studio and do something together." She chortles, "So I guess what I'm saying is, I'll do it if you do."

Lewis smirked, nodding his head. "Deal."

Lewis takes her back to his hotel for the night. He smiles as he watches her from the living room. She is on the balcony, arms spread along the banister.

He approaches her. Like she can sense his presence, she speaks up, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

He doesn't bother looking out to the view. He keeps his eyes on her. "Yeah, very beautiful."

Sometime in the night, the two of them ended up entangled in his bed, both on their sides, as Lewis thrust into her from behind. One of his arms is outstretched and serving as a pillow for her neck, and the other is wrapped around her waist, holding onto her hand as he moves deeper and deeper into her warmth.

He knows that when she squeezes around him for that final time, he's as good as done for, sheathing himself as far as he can get; his mouth drops open as he releases himself in heavy spurts. Clem exhales as he finishes, her grip on his hand loosening slightly.

Lewis doesn't bother to remove himself from her core; the arm nestled between the crook of her neck and shoulder bends until his hand is cupping her jaw and forcing her head back towards him, where he is leaning over her shoulder. He smashes his lips against hers in a searing peck, one after the other, until he holds his mouth against hers. She opens her mouth, and their tongues glide against each other in perfect harmony.

Finally, they pull apart to breathe, and Lewis pulls out with a hiss. They both fall onto their backs, his taken arm still resting beneath her head and his free arm holding their conjoined hands against his chest.

"It gets better and better every time." She admits, and Lewis lets out his signature boyish laugh, turning to face Clem. She is taking the time to catch her breath, a happy, satisfied grin covering her face as she stares up at nothing.

It's like a scene from a movie. The curtains flowed gently against the wind, and the night sky of Cannes was illuminated by stars blazing through his open balcony doors. Clem's exquisite side profile is the main focus.

He reaches over, pulls his phone from the nightstand, and slyly takes a picture before dropping his phone beside him and reconnecting their hands.

"I should go," Clem announces with a sigh. "You have an early morning ahead of you."

"You don't have to go." Lewis tested, "It's late."

"It's always late when we're together, Lewis." Clem reminds.

"I- Just stay the night. It doesn't have to be weird. We know what we're doing."

He feels her head turn against his head and knows that she's looking at him with those same endearing eyes. "Okay," she whispers into the air.

"Besides, we haven't talked." Lewis murmurs, and Clem smiles. "Can't break the ritual. You remember when I asked you where you would be if you weren't you, and you said Montana?"

Clem hums in agreement. "Yeah, what about it?"

"Think we should go one day, you and me. See those animals; climb that mountain."

Clem wills back the tears burning behind her eyes. That conversation occurred two months into their arrangement, and two and a half years later, here he was, bringing up small details to a dream she'd told him about briefly.

"What?" Lewis murmurs, watching her grin.

"Nothing, just surprised you remembered that, is all."

"I remember everything you say to me, Clementine."

"I'd love to go to Montana with you," she whispers after a while. "It's the prettiest in spring."

"Well, we'll go next spring then." Lewis declares.

Clem smiles against against his arm, placing a peck there. "Deal, if you're not sick of me by then, we'll climb that mountain in Montana."

Lewis turns back towards the celing hoping she can't tell that her simple actions had his face burning and had his blood rushing.

"You know in eternal sunshine of the spotless mind when they're laying on the ice?"

"Yeah, Clem." Lewis chuckles. "We've watched it a million times."

"That's what it feels like laying here right now with you."

"Thank you." Lewis grins.

"Her hair was blue." Clem points out. "Her hair changed colors to represent their relationship. Why do you think it was blue?"

"They were starting over. Maybe she was still down about erasing him."

"Huh," Clem sighs, "that's a good take."

"Shower?"

"With you?" She wonders.

"If you're okay with that."

"I just let you fuck me into oblivion. Why not let you clean me up."

Much cleaning hadn't gone down in the shower.

clementine

liked by lewishamilton, tchalamet, and 8,898,465 others

clementine the best week, the most perfect week.

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lewishamilton Amazing movie 🙌🏽 such a deep message.

tchalamet And she's done it again people.

badgalriri Such a beautiful film, queen. ❤️

pharell, You're a literal artistic genius; I look forward to working with you in the future.

user Clemmy + Timmy. The duo we didn't know we needed.

As Lewis saunters around the hotel room quietly the next morning, he keeps a cautious eye on the girl in his bed. He trips over his discarded shoe as he focuses on not waking her up. He mentally facepalms himself as she begins to stir.

Clem sits up, dazed and groggy; she clutches the sheets to her chest as she peers at Lewis, who looks like a deer caught in headlights.

"Good morning," he winces, "Sorry, I was packing my suitcase back up, didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," she rasps, reaching over to grab her phone and checking the time. When she sees that it's seven in the morning, she internally groans but slides her legs off the side of the bed to get ready to pack herself up.

"Woah, hey-" Lewis is by her side in an instant. "Where you going, love?"

Clem pauses, still half asleep she examines him through puffy eyes. "Your flight is at 8:30, right? You're about to head out."

Lewis nods but lifts her legs back onto the bed. "Yeah, but checkout is not until twelve."

When he realizes that she is still glancing at him in confusion, he sits on the bed beside her. "You can stay here, Clem; get some rest before you get on the road. I'll leave the room key with you. Just let them know you're checking out for the king suite."

He laughs as she furrows her brows. "Don't make it weird." he reiterates from last night.

She lets her head fall back against the pillows, more than happy to return to her slumber.

"How long are you going to be in Monaco?"

"About a week."

Clem tried not to think too deeply about his big palm spread over her thigh, his thumb caressing it so tenderly.

"Oh." She mutters, "and then Canada?"

Lewis chuckles, his hand coming up to hold her jaw tenderly, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Look at you," he chuckles, "got my schedule memorized, huh?"

Clem feels the familiar burning in her face as she suppresses her shy smile. "Oh, please." she scoffs. "We've been at this for two years. Of course, I remember the times you begged me to hop on your plane and fly to you so that you could get your rocks off."

Lewis smirks, "Look at that, caught a flight to you this time." And he's bending down and smearing his mouth against hers. He dominates the kiss, his large hand on her jaw keeping her in place for him to use her mouth as he pleases. "Mhmm." he groans pulling away.

"Wanna stay with you here all day, Clem. But I've got a flight to catch."

He is standing and bending over to press one last unexpected peck to her mouth and then her temple before he is at the end of the bed and latching onto his suitcase.

"The keys on the table, okay? Go back to sleep, and order yourself some food for me when you wake up. And text me, okay?"

Clem sits up, still mind-boggled from the kiss, and nods her head.

Lewis smiles, sending her a wave and easing out of the door.

Clementine nearly screams as the door clicks shut, and she hears his footsteps getting farther away.

Casually kissing wasn't a thing between them. Lewis was sweet, yes, but not once has he sat and caressed her and spoken so softly to her. She had never spent the night with him or fell asleep in his arms. And here he was, flipping her entire world upside down and telling her not to make it weird.

It's what she repeats to herself over and over throughout the day as the tender moments with Lewis replay in her head.

He was just being a friend, of course he would show up to support her, right? Of course he wouldn't want her to be on the road late at night or extra early in the morning? And they've kissed before, only during sex but maybe he was wound up in the moment, they were friends with added benefits, did those benefits now include impromptu kisses?

She groans as she checks out from his room and hobbles into the waiting SUV where her assistant waits with her packed bags. "You had a time last night." SK teases as he takes in his boss' disheveled appearance.

"Shut up." Clem grunts, buckling herself in.

SK raises his hands in surrender and then gets back to typing away on his phone. Clem lets her forehead drop against the window as she drives through the beautiful French city.

"Hey, SK?" When he lets out a noise to signal he's listening, she asks him for a favor. "If I asked you to find something for me and get it sent to Monaco, do you think you could get it there before the end of the week?"

SK smacks his teeth, "Girl, please, do you know who you're talking to? I could have it there tomorrow."

"You're the best, SK." she smiles.

"Don't I know it. What is it you need me to get my hands on."

Sure enough, the next morning, Lewis is interrupted by a knock on his door as he clips on his jewelry.

He saunters over to the door his pants hung low and shirtless, swinging open the door to reveal the butler that the hotel provided. When his eyes travel south he see's the luxurious gift box in his hands.

"For you, Sir Hamilton. Delivered early today, pre-approved by your assistant."

Lewis thanks the man, motioning for him to hold still for a second as he rushes to retrieve some hefty bills from his wallet.

He pulls the box from his outstretched hand and replaces it with the bills.

When Lewis closes the door and saunters over to the couch, he plops down and sets the box on the coffee table.

He pulls the stock card from underneath the black ribbon and smiles as he reads over it.

thank you for showing up for me, and congrats on yet another win.

- 🍊

He smiles and taps the card against the box a few times before deciding to open it. He lets out a surprised squawk as he lifts the lid and sees a packaged vintage Big Homer super buggy.

Lewis covers his mouth with his hands stuck between letting out a scream that would resemble a child on christmas day or a cry.

Clementine Russell, he thinks, the woman you are.

He pulls out his phone, snaps a picture of the gift, and sends it to her.

#lewis hamilton x black fem oc #formula 1 #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton imagine #poc reader #f1 #black reader #black reader friendly #black female oc

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lola-la-cava · 1 year

Text

If You’ll Have Me

gif not mine !

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The sunlight peeking through the blinds shone. Two bodies on the bed laid, intertwined. Timothée laid with his stomach against the soft mattress. His arm wrapped around Y/N’s waist.

She opened her eyes, waking from her slumber and gazing at the sight she’d grown familiar to and loved. Y/N admired his slightly parted lips and his unruly curls covering the top half of his face. She pushed them upwards only for them to slowly come back down. Y/N giggled at this and tucked it behind his ears.

“Hm? What is it?” he asked with a raspy morning voice that gave her so much butterflies.

It had been a few months since they started going out and he never failed to make her feel all giddy and giggly like a school girl.

“Nothing, don’t worry. Good morning”, she grinned resting her forhead against his. Timothée chuckled at this and pecked her nose.

They laid like that for several minutes, bathing in each other’s presence. Whispers of sweet nothing and light grazes on each other’s bodies are exchanged. The couple cherished moments like these before the day ultimately pulls them apart like it always does.

Only this time it was different. Timothée was leaving for LA again to promote a new project. It would still be a few weeks before they got to do this again.

Y/N continued to long for a time when she could spend time with her boyfriend without getting interrupted by press junkets, reshoots and award shows. They both did, but most of her job kept her tied down here. In New York. All the way across the country from LA.

Until now.

She’d recently resigned to pursue a more free lance job.

She groaned as she pushed herself up to sit up against the headboard. “Oh God, I can’t believe you’re leaving again”.

Timothée sighed as he looked up at her admiring her features. “I know, but it’ll be shorter than the other trips, I promise”

Y/N raises her eyebrow at this.

He sits up, putting his hands up in defeat, “Honest to God! I just have around 15 interviews scheduled. I’ll be done with in 3 days. I have a talk show to do and a fitting for the-“

Timothée continued to talk, but Y/N also commented. “-Hey, don’t worry. Take your-“

“And I have a bunch of open houses to go to”

Her heart drops at the sudden statement.

The room silences. “Open house, huh? When’d you start looking?”

He scratches the back of his neck, “Around 3 months ago?”

She inaudibly scoffed.

The audacity this man had. They’d been dating for months and not a single word of this came out of his mouth. Was he just gonna lead her on? Make her make a drastic decision about their relationship on the brink of him moving to the other side of the country? Y/N didn’t even know anymore.

But of course, she had no right to influence his choice in this. He’d been working toward where he was for years now. And he had nowhere to go but up. Y/N couldn’t help but be proud of him and support him. No matter what he does.

She put on a small smile.

“That’s great, Timmy. Oh, I’m so happy for you”

“Well, nothing’s really sure for now, but yeah fingers crossed.” he smirks optimistically with a blank stare on the comforter.

He zoned out, imagining their life there. He kind of expected her to handle the news with more enthusiasm. Of course, this wasn’t the ideal way he thought to reveal it, letting it accidentally slip out in a vent, but still. Y/N seemed solemn almost sad. Like the way she seemed whenever he’d leave for another trip.

Timothée’s body tensed all of a sudden. He looked at Y/N with a confused expression

“Y/N?” he called out to her, letting his hand rest on top of hers. She hummed earnestly. “You don’t think I’m moving by myself, do you?”

She sat up at his words, her e/c eyes trained on his. “You’re not?”

He started laughing. Loudly. As if he was teasing her for thinking that. Truly he was cackling because it was so appalling to the point that it was funny.

She frowned at this, “What are you laughing at?” He pretends to wipe away tears threatening to come out of the corners of his eyes and pouted. “Aw, did you really think I’d leave without you?”

“God, Timmy! Why’d you have to scare me like that!” The heart that was previously in her stomach soared. Y/N looked into his eyes for a second before she jumped into his lap to give him a bear hug. She remained clinging onto him.

For a few minutes, they stayed like that. Y/N fiddled with the curls in the back of his head as he rubbed her back. His hand all of a sudden rested on her cheek, bringing her gaze to him. “So, how ‘bout it?”

“I’d love to”

He grinned at her words and placed small kisses all over her face.

“If you’ll have me”

“It would be my pleasure, mon ange”

#timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fic #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fanfic #x reader #timothée chalamet imagine #timothee imagine #timothée fanfic #timothée imagine

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hanihazeljade · 2 months

Text

TikTok Tim

TikTok has been a blast and of course, Richard has been bothering Tim to make an account for siblings bonding. But Tim got himself a newfound confidence and a new way to irritate Lex.

(CW: thirst traps, TikTok, possible femboy content, swearing)

"Can we just talk about Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne?" A TikToker with million followers said, "Like this dude is seventeen turning eighteen in like 3 months and what he done in his almost 18 years of existence?" It showed a screenshot of a headline way back when he was attending grade school that he skipped two grades, "He skipped 2 years in school and even though he dropped for two years, because some tragedy happen in his life, he still managed to graduate high school the same year in his age range." Which is true, but with all hacking the school systems, he graduated.

"And I also discovered that he is emancipated from his foster parent, Bruce Wayne. Like at first it was insane because you got the Wayne to finance you but look at him, he is one of the biggest shareholder in the Wayne Enterprise and he already got so many praise especially from Lex Luthor," and then screen showed a clip of Lex saying, "I commend the young Drake-Wayne, even he doesn't have any degree in business, he knows how to handle one unlike some people that I know that have bachelors degree. But if you think about it, it must be in his blood after all his mother is Janet Drake, that woman is the scariest socialite in Gotham." And the screen turned back to the TikToker, "Dude doesn't have any degree yet get a praise from Lex Luthor? He is a genius I tell you." and with that the TikTok video ended.

It all started with that one video on how perfect and genius Timothy Jackson Drake. And it snowballed to edits, a thirst trap if you will, of Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. One TikTok video and the whole internet has been sleuthing every single picture, video of the new most eligible bachelor of Gotham City. And with that, #tim drake on TikTok have millions of views in span of 2 days. And it also doesn't help that Tim's life has been exposed in the different tabloids since he was a kid, being a member of a elite society especially in Gotham. He doesn't really know and care but with so many people doing a deep dives in his life, it kind of unsettling.

He scrolled again and it was a thirst trap edit. And he decided to exit the app, enough internet for the day.

"Timmmyy." Dick whined as he was begging Tim to make a TikTok account for 1, he can do those trends with Tim and two, he wants Tim to see those thirst traps edit of himself and it has been seven days straight. And Tim's patience has been wearing thin.

"I will, once I finished these reports." he said with no intention of doing it and gonna said that he forgot about it.

"No, do it now. I know your schemes, Timmy." Tim sighed with the insistence, "Then come back here later for you to remind me then."

++++++

"So, my brother Richard has been keep bothering me to make one of this account and apparently, many people tried to make a little clout so I am going to make one to gather all the clout." Tim said with a blank stare but let out a snort at the last part. "I will probably never upload anything again but yep, hope you are happy, Richard." and with that the video ended. 2 hours later after that video got uploaded, his account boomed to 2.3 million and his first video got featured in some internet forums and articles were being published online.

++++++

"And he finally succumbed to the Tiktok." Jason said as soon as he walked to his penthouse and Tim rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing here, oh mighty Jason?" Tim rolled his eyes, sarcasm is dripping to those words.

"I thought you are better than Dick but it seems like I was mistaken."

"Pot. Kettle. Just because I was on the side of edit Tiktok and you are in booktok doesn't make you the top. You are giving pick-me vibes, ngl."

"Did you really just said ngl instead of not gonna lie?"

"Did I stutter?"

++++++

Tim thought it will be cool if he just upload another Tiktok video after months of abandoning his account. He look at the trends and some old trends and he particularly got stuck in the transition videos and he took liking on the one audio edit of Jade West saying, "What's the prob, dog?", and he is a gremlin for a reason.

So, he was there chuckling at himself with the thought of the internet will never know what's gonna hit them.

+++++++

Tim likes to do a little bit of thirst traps in his content but he also like just to gave his audience what he does in his free time whenever he is done reading and signing the needed papers, like typing in his computer or solving a rubiks cube. And he keeps getting millions of views every time and it is such a ego boost for him.

But he also likes the videos with prominent people in United States, most is just him and Lex Luthor doing stupid shits and every time it will happen, both the stocks of WE and Lex Corp is going up and somehow that made both Tim and Lex being close yet hating each other so much.

The Justice League, specifically Superman, is very much annoyed and not happy about Tim's association to one of the prominent villains in the existence. But all Tim does is send them a lip sync video of him with the audio of, "Do I give a fuck? No, not one. How many fucks do I give? Zero. Exactly, so therefore your comment is irrelevant." And he called it a day. He is still fucking salty of about his worst year of his fucking life. He will not going to forgive those assholes when they didn't even apologise.

But somehow the limit of his TikTok freedom is having him doing a thirst trap in a form of being a femboy. Listen. Tim knows he will never be a brickhouse like Jason and Bruce but god forbid his BMI doesn't go up to 20 even in his peak body mass. He was always has been a twink and he also doesn't like that but apparently, that type of body is a perfect "bottom/submissive" material based on the different manhuas he having been indulge himself the past month.

++++++++

Dick was scrolling at his fyp page that was full of animals, gymnastics and Justice League edits - because, and he got in a video of a guy sitting on a red couch doing a simple transition of throwing his black shoe and then changing his casual fit to a more formal attire and it was a smooth transition on Dick's observation and he subconsciously goes to the comments because he wants a laugh at the thirsty comments.

Did anyone notice how smooth that transition is?

Lol, that is a big ass shoes

He is a mighty fine fella

WHY DOES NOBODY IS COMMENTING THAT THE ACCOUNT IS TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE?

Dick blinked once at that comment. And he blinked again. He closed the comments and swipe left. And the comment is right, it take him on Tim's verified account with now two videos.

When did Tim had a 5.6 million followers?!

Tim already on the same following count as him and he was still definitely gonna get more. Dick is now kind off regretting his decision if putting Tim in TikTok.

+++++++

The next month was shown that Tim doesn't have any schedule that follows his uploading, it seems like he upload wether he like. But the ones that broke the internet is the one thirst trap that Tim posted.

Ashley, look at me

Tim made the hand movements for the transition and from the Saint Laurent sweater, it is Jason's, Dick knows because he just saw Jason wear it like two days ago and it was paired with a black slacks and it turns into a oversized silk dress shirt and it looks like nothing underneath and Dick hopes that there is a boxers underneath because God forbids, he will delete Tim's TikTok account. In that video, it showcases Tim's long, pale, scarless legs, which is a fucking lie, he doesn't how Tim did it but that is a fucking lie. And oh boy was the comments are wild.

He is a sugar baby with the money of a sugar daddy

I'm straight but damn

yeah that's it, I'm bi now

I can hit that any time if he hit me up

Wait! I AM CONFUSED

Am I.. into this?

bottom vibes ngl

Dick stops reading the comments. TIM IS HIS LITTLE BROTHER! Sure he's nineteen but Dick felt uncomfortable looking at his brother's thirst trap, that he made himself. He immediately message Tim to stop posting thirst traps and Tim just reply with, 'Well, you have to face the consequences of forcing me to this damn app'.

He will be damned, he thought.

#tim drake #fanfic #chaotic tim drake #unhinged tim drake #dcu #jason todd #dick grayson #tiktok #batman #ceo tim drake #femboy #thirst traps

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hdawg1995 · 4 months

Text

i love the HORROR of City of Blank.

City of Blank is a webtoon about a world where wearing a mask that covers your eyes is how you avoid the unavoidable, ever present, mindless entities known as blanks.

They are weak to water and fire (and electricity), there are parts of the world too humid for them to exist. during winter you can finally see what your friends and family look like. there are parts of the world that never get cold enough, never get rain. The rich and privileged get to live in districts of cities where water curtains the area, preventing Blanks from entering.

imagine you're walking down the street and a strong enough gust of wind knocks your mask off. you're dead. if you're lucky.

Blanks stalk you unknowingly. they aren't aware, they aren't sentient, they are nothing and then suddenly it is a predator. suddenly like a magnet it latches onto your now exposed face.

you have to sleep with a mask, you have to get a mask when you're a child, your school uniform includes a mask and its so fun when it rains, you can see your friend's faces! you didn't know timmy's eyes were blue!

A blank steals your face. Your face. not the flesh of your face but YOUR FACE. it leaves you blind and no way to breathe or call out for help. your eyes stare at you in horror because it doesn't know why it did that, it doesn't understand whats happening, all it knows is thats you and you are dying- sufficating- and they can't do anything for you.

your own face watches you die. you are gone. the blank that stole your face IS NOT YOU. it will become you but it is NOT you. Your name, your voice, your memories, your personality- the blank will inherent them. but it is not YOU and it will NEVER be you.

you just stole someone's face. you went from not existing to existing and your birth was violent and horrific. you become a person. you can feel your organs grow, your bones develop, the memories come back to you but they were never yours.

who are you? who the FUCK are you?? wanted thats who you are, you are wanted and there are people with masks and weapons who will burn, freeze, electrocute you, take your face, and get a reward.

because you killed someone. you are a murderer.

and God forbid you have a child....

because they won't have a face. but they will have a mind. they will have a personality. they will grow and age and god help them if someone they love -a brother, a mother, a aunt, a friend- ever takes their mask off around them because they are a Blank. They are so kind, so sweet, and now they just killed someone against their will, against the will of their own mind and now who are they? who the FUCK are they???

they are wanted. because they just killed someone. they killed someone against their will- not in self defense or to save themselves but because that person lost/took off their mask.

GOD i love City of Blank.

#ramble #city of blank #its not a horror webtoon #but man when i think about it it sure is #its sci-fi #and its so good #spoilers?#i kept things vague

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lilakartoffelbrei · 6 days

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Everyone except Omar enjoys their time at the Blank trailers

#old pleasant valley #OPV:Sommer1 #sims 2 gameplay #Blank #Blank2 #Susie Blank #Timmy Blank #Swen Blank #Mary Lu Blank #Floh Blank #Fred Blank #Rabea Blank #Holly Alto #Omar Lapin #Lola Lancaster #Davis Traumtänzer #ts2

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rivensdefenseattorney · 3 months

Text

Red Fountain Dormitory + Riven's Apartment

Here's all the boys' rooms + Riven's apartment since he wants to be different so badly.

Brandon's Room

Brandon is definitely a maximalist, he follows the philosophy that blank walls are meant to be filled. He's also a bit of a hoarder, so he has a lot of things he's received from his siblings as gifts scattered around. He also a big movie buff, so he has just about any poster you can imagine.

Timmy's Room

Timmy sees his room as a secondary workspace. He's often drafting new blueprints & prototypes, or studying for his next exam. He's absolutely fascinated with aircrafts, and has been building models since he was a child. His curiosity often leads him to taking things apart and studying the components.

Sky's Room

Sky is a simple man, he doesn't really understand a lot about decor, so he lets his friends do it for him. If you see any furniture or decorations in his space, it was most likely put there by Brandon or Stella. His favorite addition however, is the mural that Helia painted for him on the wall. Sky tries his best to make his room inviting for guests-and-strays alike, so he often has a lot of blankets, pillows, and spare bedding. Stella basically treats his room like a secondary home, so he leaves space for her to leave her things.

Helia's Room

Helia's room is like an art gallery. He has too many sketches and canvases scattered about to count. Helia sometimes forgets where he puts things, but he treats it as a pleasant surprise whenever he eventually finds it.

Nabu's Room

Nabu's room is a place for him to decompress. After coming to Magix, he needed a space for him that holds some familiarity. He likes to keep the lights to a minimum since he's used to spending a lot of time in dark caves and deep ocean pits, so he often opts to use candles when he can. He also has a lot of ingredients and artifacts scattered about his room.

Riven's Apartment

Riven likes to keep things simple, so he doesn't have a lot in his apartment outside of necessities. He even made a bookshelf to keep all of his books organized. Eventually, he makes some space for Flora to keep her extra plants since she ran out of space in her room. It somehow turned into her having her own corner in his apartment. He allows Bloom to put books onto his shelf for him to read later. It's also the designated meeting spot for the group, but he doesn't know that yet.

Bonus

How tidy is everyone? (From Messy to Neat)

Side Note*: This is also the order of who would drive Riven the most insane if they lived together.

Messy

Brandon

Helia

Nabu

Sky

Timmy

Riven

Neat

What type of bird is everyone? (From Night Owl to Early Bird)

Night Owl

Brandon

Nabu

Timmy

Riven

Sky

Helia

Early Bird

__________________________

Winx Rewrite Master Post

Red Fountain Polytechnic

Alfea Dormitory

#winx #winx club #winx rewrite #winx fanfic #winx headcanons #winx club headcanons #winx club fanfiction #winx club fanfic #winx club rewrite #winx club headcanon #winx helia #winx timmy #winx brandon #winx sky #winx riven #winx nabu

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theminecraftbee · 2 years

Text

It's the middle of the night when Grian hears footsteps approach where he's made camp in the new Hermitlands of Empires. (Or whatever they're calling it - Hermitopia? Hermempire? He hasn't been paying enough attention; despite it being his idea, he's pretty sure Impulse has already named it.) He's about to roll over and complain about it being LATE, he's SLEEPING, thank you, when he sees who it is.

He blinks.

"Hey, Grian," Pearl says.

"Hey, Pearl," Grian says. "It's late. Uh, hold on."

He grabs a torch and lights it. Pearl's dress has mud all over it. Her eyes are red. She has a strange expression.

"...Pearl?"

"You're a tailor, right?" she asks.

"Yeah, I'd say so," Grian says. "Vital for a number of things. Later I'm actually gonna go offer to make Timmy's seams tighter to mess with him, actually, if you wanna -"

"Haha," Pearl says. It's not really a laugh so much as a forced chuckle to interrupt him, so Grian takes the hint and stops. "Ha. You already know him, huh."

Grian stops for a long time. He... is not sure how to explain Jimmy to Pearl, if she doesn't already know, so he just nods.

"...and he knows you."

"Kind of?" Grian says, making a face.

"Kind of," repeats Pearl.

"Look, Tim and I go back," Grian says, and leaves the explanation at that. He studies Pearl's face. It doesn't yield any results; Pearl's expression is remarkably blank. "It's sort of a weird situation," he tries again, wondering what about it is so offending Pearl. There's another awkward silence. "Uh, look, just help me mess with him?"

"...after I spar with Sausage, and that's not what I'm here to ask you about. I wanted to ask if you could make me a new hoodie," Pearl says.

"And pants, I assume?" Grian adds.

"I mean," Pearl says, smiling for the first time the whole interaction.

"I shouldn't have given the option," Grian complains. "First Scar, now everyone around me. You're wearing pants!"

"If you think you can control that -"

"Nope! Nope, not listening to it." Pearl laughs. Grian considers it a victory. "Anyway, I'll just need the fabric, sure. I don't have time to go collecting. I think that, uh, Chromia? They seem like a textiles place, probably them...?"

"You can cut up the dress," Pearl says, rather emphatically.

Grian pauses.

"You'll have to wear some of my -"

"I don't mind. Grian, please."

Grian stares at Pearl. The dress she'd found herself wearing once she came through the portal is a beautiful thing, practically glimmering with magic. Sunflowers are woven into it in impossible ways. If Grian destroys it, there will be no replicating it, not without the magic that created it in the first place. It's a finer piece of clothing than the tailor in Grian wants to destroy.

She's covered it in mud. Her eyes are red. It is well past midnight.

Grian throws his spare set of clothes at her. "Go get changed, I'll make it a rush order, so you actually have proper clothes."

Pearl sags with relief. "Sure. I'll owe you."

"You absolutely do," agrees Grian. "Remember that, I'm going to collect!"

Pearl doesn't argue. She goes to change. Grian watches after her.

...huh.

Well, he thinks. That's one more thing to worry about on the increasingly astronomical list of things to worry about after they went through the Rift. it's really too bad that has to be de-prioritized under a lot of other things because that is some weird Pearl behavior, but Grian's already getting blamed for too much to try to fix something he's not involved in. Still. Still!

Pearl comes back with the dress, and Grian promises to message her when he's done. She leaves. Grian holds the dress in his hands and wonders what, exactly, he's missing here.

He'd never get rid of such a beautiful dress. It had basically been made for her. He still feels bad destroying it.

...it's worth the IOU.

He gets to work.

#empires smp #hermitcraft smp #grian #pearlescentmoon #the convergence #a bee fic #<- saw other people using the convergence tag hopefully it works #i think pearl would have Complicated Emotions about the whole farming goddess thing now that she sort of Knows you know #this is. one way that could go #anyway this is my nano warmup because i haven't written in a few days and it's in ten minutes lol

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roxygen22 · 1 month

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Still Here (Chapter 11)

Summary: Madison starts school, you find a job, and your family finds a new normal until Timothée calls you with bad news. You and Madison help him through his loss.

C/W: Death, funeral of a parent/grandparent

Catch up on previous chapters here.

Time flew by after that night as you and your family (including Timothée) found your new normal. Madison started school again and quickly acclimated to her new surroundings. She joined gardening and ukulele clubs and thrived socially and academically.

You stumbled upon a part-time job at the library as a grant writer. You visited frequently to get out of the house and use the wi-fi for job hunting (AKA away from your mother reading over your shoulder). One day, you spotted a flyer on their bulletin board and inquired. They needed help finding funding for more youth and adult programs, and you needed a job and enjoyed writing. It was also flexible enough that you could be available for Madison's school functions. Win-win.

In your excitement, you rushed over to Timothée's place. He stepped out of his workshop at the sound of wheels crunching the gravel. A broad grin painted his face when he saw you get out of the car.

"Hey, baby!" he called as he walked up to you. "This is an unusual time for a visit. Not that I'm complaining, of course." He gave you a quick peck of a kiss.

You set your hands on his shoulders. "Remember that night we were fighting about me leaving for school, and I said I have a lot to offer the world and can't do that from here?"

Timothée paled as his smile dropped, unsure what you were about to say next. "Yeah...?"

"I still have a lot to offer the world, but I finally figured out I can do that from here. For here." You clasped your hands and clapped as you jumped up and down slightly. "I got a job at the library as a grant writer!"

It took a brief moment for Timothée to catch up to what you were saying before he joined you in your excitement. "That's fantastic, babe!" He wrapped you in a nearly crushing hug and spun you around. You beamed up at him when he set you back down.

"It's wonderful to see you so happy," he added as he looked down into your eyes.

"I am happy. The happiest I have been in nearly a decade."

<><><><><>

Things were looking up as you got into the groove of your new job. You and Timothée fell into a rhythm of alternating family dinners with your respective parents and date nights for just the two of you. He was also very intentional about making time to hang out with Madison. Once they discovered their shared love of bowling after he introduced her to the sport, it became their "thing" every Tuesday evening, along with dinner at the diner...

...until the Tuesday after Thanksgiving.

It was odd for Timothée to call or text you during the work day. He was very respectful of giving you space to concentrate on your writing and didn't want to be a distraction. You answered immediately, knowing it must be important.

"Hey, Timmy, what's up?"

You heard him sniffle on the other end of the line. "My dad, he-" He couldn't finish before he was overtaken by sobs, but you knew what we has trying to say. You gasped slightly.

"Timmy, where are you?"

"H-home."

"Stay put. I will be right there." You packed up your things and told your boss you were leaving. You sped to the Chalamet's and went to Timothée's house first. It was dark inside, but that didn't prevent you from banging on the locked door. You were met with silence. Next, you ran over to his dad's house. Thankfully the door was unlocked, allowing you to quietly enter. You found Timothée in the living room curled up in his dad's favorite armchair. You sat on your knees in front of him and buried your fingers in his dark curls.

"Oh, Timmy..."

He looked at you, but his eyes were blank. His voice sounded so tiny as he explained, "Dad was tired, so he went to take a nap when I went out to the workshop. Not abnormal these days. But when I came back to check on him..." He interrupted himself by trying to clear the lump in his throat.

You looked up toward the bedrooms. "Is he..."

Timothée shook his head. "No, uh, he's not here. I called 9-1-1, just in case, but he was gone. The funeral home where he had already made arrangements picked him up. [Y/N], he looked so...peaceful. I hadn't seem him not in pain in years. H-he got his w-wish to die at home in his sleep." His face contorted as he was riddled with sobs once more. You pulled his head to your chest and rubbed soothing circles on his back. Once he calmed back down to an all but catatonic state, you laid his head back down on the armrest and stepped away to call your mother to ask her to pick up Madison from school.

"You should go get Madison," he stated plainly when you returned.

"My mom can go pick her up. I am not leaving you here alone, love."

"Alone," he repeated with a slightly terrified and downcast look.

"Hey now," you responded in a soothing tone as you sank back down to your knees. "Even in the moments when you may be physically by yourself, you are not alone, Timothée Hal Chalamet." You made sure his eyes connected with yours before you continued. "You're stuck with me, remember? You have people who love you and will help you through this." You kissed his forehead before he pushed himself upright into a seated position.

"Thank you," Timothée replied solemnly, almost too quietly for you to even hear.

"I can either stay here tonight, or you can come to our place. Mom already offered."

He nodded, contemplating the options. "I don't want to be here right now, but I'm also not quite ready to leave yet, either."

"I understand. Take your time." You stood and squeezed his shoulder as you walked by to the kitchen. Doing the dishes and taking out the trash seemed like a helpful way to keep yourself occupied while he mentally prepared for next steps. After a while, he joined you in the kitchen. He hugged you from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder as you dried the last of the plates.

"Thank you for dropping everything for me."

You leaned your ahead away from his slightly so you could turn your neck to look at him. "It was an easy decision. You needed me. I am here."

"Dad likes...liked...you a lot, you know." You turned your body all the way around to look at Timothée, though you struggled to hide your tears. "And he was absolutely besotted with Madison. Thank you for all the times you brought her over here for dinner. He enjoyed spending time with both of you. I think...I think he even thought of her as a grandchild by the end." You gave him a warm half-smile and nodded in agreement. "Can we go see her now? It's Tuesday."

You looked at your watch. "She should be home now." You walked with Timothée to his house so he could grab some clothes. He usually wanted to take his truck when the two of you went anywhere, but he relented to letting you drive your car this time.

As expected, your mother was already back from the school. She met the two of you on the porch and embraced Timothée. "I'm so sorry, dear."

"Thank you, Mrs. [L/N]." He heard the screen door shut and looked up to see Madison standing by the porch swing, rubbing one arm with the opposite hand nervously. His face softened as he knelt down and held a hand out to her. Madison stepped forward and took it into her own.

"Hey, kiddo. I'm sorry that we can't go out like normal tonight."

"It's okay," the girl practically whispered. "Nana told me what happened." Her face crumpled as she started to cry. You stepped forward instinctually to comfort your daughter, but instead, she threw her arms around Timothée's neck. He quickly wrapped his arms around her in return. He looked up at you with fat tears welling in the corners of his eyes as he was overcome by a mix of emotions.

You placed a hand over your mouth to hold back your own surge of sobs at the display between your two loves. Your mother stepped to your side and draped her arm around your shoulders. Madison had not yet had to face the pain of losing a grandparent, and while he wasn't one by blood, she had grown close to Mr. Chalamet. This was a hurt you could not shield her from.

Madison pulled away, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "I'm sorry. I got your shoulder wet."

Timothée's lip trembled. "Never apologize for tears, okay?" He cupped her small cheek in his hand and wiped a fresh tear away with his thumb. He pulled her in for another hug, this time for his own comfort.

<><><><><>

The funeral was held a few days later. Timothée walked into your living room in his black suit. Under other circumstances, you would have commented on how handsome he looked. Instead, you stood and straightened his tie. He grabbed your hand and pressed it against his chest.

"Please sit with me when we get there," he said softly. "Both of you."

You nodded. "I will, but I will give Madison a choice. This is the first funeral she has ever attended. Let me go talk to her."

You found her sitting outside on the porch swing in her black dress. "Hey, sweetheart. You doing okay?" you asked as you sat beside her. She just nodded. "Timothée asked us to sit with him at the funeral. He is going to sit on the front row, which is usually where immediate family sits. I want to give you a choice. There are going to be a lot of big emotions in the room."

"I want to be with Timothée. He needs us," she stated like it was the obvious - and only - option.

You kissed her forehead and pulled her to you. "My sweet girl. So selfless. If at any point you get too overwhelmed, you can go find Nana and Pawpaw. Okay?"

<><><><><>

It was a beautiful celebration of life. The townspeople showed up en masse to pay their respects at both the funeral home and graveside service. Madison was a trooper and stayed by Timothée's side the entire time until everyone else had left the cemetery.

You pulled Madison aside and started toward the truck to give Timothée a moment of privacy before the casket was lowered. She followed you hesitantly but lost her will to comply when she heard him start crying. She spun and ran back to him, gingerly slipping her hand into his as they both faced the casket. He looked down, first at their clasped hands and then at Madison's face.

"I didn't want you to be alone."

Tears spilled out of Timothée's eyes as he smiled. "Thanks, kiddo." He dipped down and picked her up for a hug. She clung to him like a baby koala. He stood like that for a moment, staring at his father's coffin over his almost-daughter's shoulder, silently thanking him for showing him how to be a good dad.

<><><><><>

Chapter 12

Masterlist

Tag List:

@croatianprincess

@bluizh

@jindongdongie

@groovyqueer

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