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#historical faceclaim
periodfcnetwork · 11 months
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good morning! the period faceclaim directory is now fully updated with 800+ faceclaims in total and it is linked on the source of this post. if there is anything missing or incorrect, please let me know and be sure to check our wishlist if you want to add more beautiful faces to it ❤
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saskiasgallery · 8 months
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Rachel Hurd-Wood
in Perfume : the story of a murderer (2006)
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libraryleopard · 5 months
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Wrath Goddess Sing by Maya Deane (I take no credit for any photos)
She loved Patroklos, she loved Meryapi, and it had nothing to do with desire, only joy—to see them was joy; to breathe with them was joy; to ride with Patroklos on a cattle raid was joy; scanning the pines for ambush was joy; holding the shield to protect them from Anyasha’s arrows was joy. If she failed, they would die together, and that too was joy.
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solanacreatesgifs · 1 year
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Sofia Boutella as Ahmanet in The Mummy (2017) Part One (1/2)
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torahana · 2 years
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Laurie Davidson as William Shakespeare (Will)
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doctordonovan · 8 months
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❀    ||      ORESTES: this was always going to happen. she's been dead since the beginning. [ insp. ]
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ciaheyhimm · 9 months
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I just watched Centurion and this man is truly something else.
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ladystrallan · 1 year
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Currently working on chapter 4 of IRWIHY season 2
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The ladies go to a party!
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changbunnies · 4 months
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Aurora (18+)
♡ Pairing: Prince!Felix x Duke's Daughter!Reader
♡ Genre: light angst, fluff, arranged marriage au, royalty au, historical au, one sided pining to eventual mutual pining, slow burn-ish ??, eventual smut
♡ Word Count: 21.8k
♡ Summary: Y/N, a duke’s daughter in the southern territories of Miroh, is promised to crown prince Felix in the north in the hopes that the dueling territories will reach peace. Yet, despite how much she initially loathes the idea of being married and away from her family, she can’t help but fall in love with the prince she was promised to.
♡ Warnings: outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, felix is nothing but sweet but it takes the reader time to trust him, attempted cheating (not from reader or felix, you'll see), 1 mention of having children, kind of possesive felix? but not too much, i think that's it but lmk if i missed something!
♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): felix calls reader "my love" (yes this needs a warning), so much kissing!! so many "i love you's!!" (a changbunnies smut staple), reader and felix are virgins, nipple play, oral (f + m receiving), handjob, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie
♡ Notes: you can also read the story on my ao3 where it is divded into chapters here, and if you're interested you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams
♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.
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You knew well the day would come where you would be married off to a family looking to expand their power. You knew that you would have to leave behind all things you found familiar and comfortable to live in your husband’s estate. You knew that your responsibilities as a nobleman’s daughter would catch up with you sooner rather than later. And despite knowing all these things in your mind, your heart had not felt prepared for the reality of your fate in the slightest. 
Your night was spent in a grand ceremony of music and laughter as two families, one yours and the other your now husband’s, as well as commoners from all over the bustling town you would now call home, celebrated your new union. You were now Lee Y/N, wife to the northern king’s one and only son, Felix. And while there was high likelihood that Felix would not sit on the throne for decades, the choice of who would become his wife was still something that had to be decided with the utmost care in the event that an unexpected tragedy befell his father. 
Though you were not a princess, you were the eldest daughter of a grand duke. You were raised in elegance and novelty that most would never have the privilege of living in. You were also graceful, well mannered, and adored by your father’s people in the south, which was something the king valued when seeking out the ideal partner for his only heir. And with your union to the prince now solidified, the country was ever closer to a more unified and prosperous existence. 
The ceremony itself consisted of fake smiles you had long practiced from a young age; a mask of joy and grace to hide your inner tumultuous feelings. When the celebrations had come to a close, and the time came to bid your farewells to your family as they made the long journey back home to the south, you did your best to hold back the tears and see them off with a smile. You played the role you had been taught by your elders well, giving polite words of parting to the commoners who made it the ceremony and maintaining an elegant air around the royal family that you were now a part of. 
Felix let out a relieved sigh when the last of the guests departed, turning to you, his now wife, with a gentle smile afterwards. “Shall we retire for the night as well?” he asks as he holds out his arm, clearly offering it to be linked with yours. You accept the offer easily, deciding that if anyone saw you reject your husband on such an offer it would reflect badly on your family’s manners. The last thing you needed were rumors to circulate about your parents ‘not raising you right.’ 
“I hope you’re not too ill at ease,” he says as you exit the ballroom together, “meeting your betrothed on the same day as your ceremony is quite a shock.” He’s certainly not wrong about that; it was easily the greatest shock of your life. In fact, you spent much of your month-long journey to the northern lands in denial, utterly convinced it must be a falsehood, or some manner of prolonged bad dream you would surely wake from. 
Only on your arrival in the morning, when you had finally seen the royal castle with your own eyes and met your suitor and his family face to face, did your reality smack you squarely in the face. The truth of things could no longer be rejected; you were going to be married this evening whether you wished it so or not. You were left with no choice but to conform in that very moment, to accept your fate for what it is. 
“Yes, it took me no small measure of adjustment, but I am grateful that you and your family have spared no effort in accomodating me.” You offered a kind word- after all, it was no lie that his family were much kinder people than you had expected them to be. Once you reached the age of maturity, your family received countless marital requests from various suitors, many of whom were vile men beneath a mask of sincerity. You had watched your cousins marry into many such families, and found yourself dreading the day it would happen to you as well. 
While it was undoubtedly unfortunate that you were forced into a marriage, the fact that Felix and his family seemed to hold genuine kindness in their hearts made you quite lucky. However, your luck being better than most did not mean you were happy about any of this. Sure, the fact that you weren’t wed to a boorish man who felt the need to treat you like an object was a good thing, but that didn’t change that the freedom of choice was stripped away from you. 
You should feel relief that Felix seems to be a sweet person, or some sort of joy that your new family is seemingly considerate and caring, but you don’t. What you feel instead is.. Well, you aren’t quite sure what name to put to the feeling, though dread felt the closest. Yes, you felt a looming dread over knowing that this was your life now, and you were never, and will never, be given a choice for something different. 
“If there is anything at all I can do to help you in this transition, I ask that you do not hesitate to tell me.” Felix’s voice, while still much deeper than you had anticipated it to be, was soft and kind as he made the offer. You could feel a hint of guilt for not appreciating such a thing as much you knew you should- he’s obviously trying his hardest to be kind to you, and despite that you’re just.. Unhappy. There was no other way to put it. 
“I will, thank you,” you reply in your perfectly rehearsed well-mannered tone. You may hate the situation you’re in, but you won’t take it out on him. After all, he likely didn’t have a choice in this matter either, and he’s been nothing but sweet and accommodating to you thus far. As much as the rebellious part of your brain wishes to kick and scream and throw a tantrum, you don’t want to do anything that would hurt or reflect badly on your new husband. 
“This is my- well, our, room,” He says as you approach two large, ornate doors, decorated with a wood carving of the royal family’s emblem standing proudly in the center: two soldiers mirroring each other with swords raised skyward, and a beautiful, intricately drawn phoenix beholden in the center. “We can enter if you wish, but I do not intend to force you to lie with me when you are not yet comfortable being next to me.” 
“Truly? Is such a thing alright?” You nearly exclaim, unable to disguise the surprise in your voice at his statement. Felix smiles in the same sweet manner he has all night as he answers, “Of course! I know it’s.. Customary for newlyweds to lie together right away, but I have no desire to force you into an uncomfortable situation. And well.. I do hope that we’ll share a bed in the future, but I am more than willing to wait until you are ready.” 
You felt truly taken aback as you stared at him. Sad to say, you half expected his tune to change once the two of you were alone. You'd heard many awful tales of men who are sweet and doting in the eye of the public, but change the moment they are behind closed doors, their true natures and selfish desires exposing themselves once there is no one they have to impress or keep up appearances for. And also sad to say, it wouldn't have surprised you if the crown prince was one of those awful men; men in positions of power love to flaunt and make use of it, flashing their wealth and their status and forcing those beneath them into submission. You were lucky that in your father's lands in the south, you had enough status to prevent those men from harming you explicitly. 
But here you were, in a forgein land, married to a man who was second only to his father, the king, a man who held substantial power over you in every regard now that you were wed, and he was giving you the freedom of choice. And then there was the statement that followed- he wants to lie with you, would likely be pleased if you did so this very night, but is willing to wait until you want to of your own regard. It's possible he is simply a smooth talker, years of diplomatic lessons and high social status turning him into a charasmatic liar, an effortless charmer. 
Was it in his true character to treat women with such consideration, or were you an exception until he got you where he wanted you? Did he sincerely view you are more than an object to be had, or was he going to play the long game, waiting until the moment you lower your guard and become comfortable to strike? Regardless of the answer, you feel truly thankful in the moment. You've had a whirlwind of emotions today, and not needing to immediately lie with your new husband takes an immense weight of your weary shoulders. You're happy to have the space to decompress alone in your own private space offered to you. 
“The maid’s have prepared a room for you further down the hall. Shall I take you?” he asks, the sweet smile having not at all faded. You hesitate a moment before you nod, not wishing to offend him should you appear too eager or if this part of a game he wishes to play, using your vulnerability as a pawn. “Yes, please.” “Very well,” he replies as he leads you further past the room that you are supposed to share together. The walk down the hall is rather quick, ending just a few yards away from your starting point. “I hope you don’t mind, I wanted your room to be in proximity to mine in case you have need of me,” he clarifies as you approach the door to what will be your bedroom for the foreseeable future. 
“Truthfully, it’s more than I was expecting. I appreciate it,” you smile your first genuine one of the night, truly relieved to not have to share a bed with a relative stranger right away, and to have the space you need to process what your life will be like from this night onward. Felix unlinks your joined arms and opens the door for you to enter, his apparant kindness unfaltering. 
The moment you step inside your new room, you are in awe. Even for what is likely a small guest room, it’s still much larger than your bedroom back at your family’s modest estate. The furniture is well crafted and beautifully adorned in gentle blue and white shades. In the corner of the room, you see that your belongings from home have been neatly placed, with essentials on top and personal comforts at the bottom. This surprised you most of all; not only was he kind enough to prepare a separate room for you, but he had all your belongings brought here ahead of time, as if he already knew this would be your answer. 
Behind you, Felix stands in the doorway, having not followed you into the room. He wore an expression of anxious anticipation, waiting to hear what you thought of where you’d be sleeping. He was as patient as he possibly could be, hoping silently that whatever opinion you held would be positive. He truly wanted you to feel safe and comfortable here, so that one day you could grow to have a genuine connection with him. 
When you turned back towards him, your soft smile made the anxiety welling within his breast wash away in an instant. “It’s to your liking?” he asks, and you respond with a nod. “It’s lovely, thank you.” Truthfully, you felt another tinge of guilt for doubting his pure intentions just moments prior. The way relief instantly washed over his face was a clear indicator that he was truly trying his best to make you comfortable. 
“Ah, I’m relieved to hear that!” Felix holds his hand over his heart, as if it had just been racing in his chest; and to be fair, perhaps it was- he did seem genuinely considerate in all his actions, and he must’ve been nervous up to this point. “Before I go, should I call some maids to help you remove your gown? It looks rather intricate, so..” Felix’s observation wasn’t wrong; getting your wedding gown on early this afternoon required the help of your mother, sister, and many others, and you didn’t feel you’d be able to remove everything on your own. 
So, you gave your approval to receive the maid’s help, and Felix nods, “I’ll alert them quickly so you can get your rest soon. Knights will also be posted in front of your room at all times starting now, and maids will come to your room routinely, so please notify them if anything is needed urgently.” He was about to turn to leave but stops, hesitantly meeting your eyes one last time before he departs. “Uhm- good night, I’ll see you tomorrow.” His smile was bashful, and you found his subtle, soft change in demeanor oddly endearing. While you were still very much uneasy about being in this place, and had your issues with being married, it’d be a lie to say that Felix’s earnest efforts to make you happy and comfortable weren’t helpful, and that maybe with him as your husband, you could be happy someday. 
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You groan as you are wrestled from sleep by a quick succession of knocks on your door; not urgent in any way, but loud enough to rouse you out of the pleasant dream you were having. Groggily, you stand from your bed, rubbing your eyes as you step toward the door. You open it slowly, and come to see Felix standing before you with a tray of various foods in hand. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I brought you breakfast. May I come in?” 
You nod and step to the side to allow him entry, letting your assigned guards close the door behind him. “The maids said they couldn’t wake you, so I decided to give it a try at my first available moment,” he explains as he sets the tray down on your bed. “I’m still unsure of your preferences, so I got a little of everything. I hope there’s something here you enjoy.” 
It has been just a few weeks since you officially became a member of the royal family and Felix’s wife, but you still often found yourself being taken aback by just how thoughtful and earnest he was towards you. He seemed to have even the little things in mind when trying to accommodate you, and you often found yourself unsure on how to react to such kindness. In the end, you settle for a simple thank you as you climb back to your spot in bed to eat under the comfort of the blanket. 
“When you’re finished, I would like to take you on a tour of the castle if you’re not opposed. I believe getting familiar with your surroundings will aid in your adjustment,” he says, watching you carefully for any change in expression. It is true that since your arrival, you’ve spent most of your time holed up in your room, not coming out unless there was need for it. 
And though you were perfectly content to continue to do so, you could understand how it would become a problem, not just for Felix but for yourself as well. You can’t spend the rest of your days hiding away in your guest room, and you won’t adjust to your new life any easier if you don’t at least try to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. 
Besides all that, Felix has been incredibly sweet and patient thus far. You owe it to him to try, at the very least. His face lights up when you give your agreement, an earnest delight painting his face. You weren’t sure why he was so eager to offer you comfort, or why he always seemed so happy when you returned his smiles, but that pleasant quality of his was undeniably helpful in easing the ache in your heart. 
"I still have some things to take care of with my father before we begin, so take your time finishing your breakfast and getting ready. I'll be back later," he continues to smile as he stands, seemingly excited about what the afternoon will hold for you (and he is excited! There is so much to show you, and he hopes you love everything the castle has to offer.)
Your maids enter the room shortly after Felix departs, ready to help you with whatever you may need, and to begin tidying up once you've finished eating. You're not sure how long Felix will be, so you follow his advice to take your time, leisurely eating your breakfast and making small talk with the maids as you do. You were nervous to speak with them your first few days here, unsure of what sort of dynamic they had with the royal family, but you all warmed up to eachother rather quickly. They were kind, playful but still professional, and the ones around your age were especially excitable when it came to the prospect of gossip and dressing up. 
Even when you weren't interjecting into conversation, you enjoyed listening to them talk about romance, what they think of the working men in town, what dresses they plan to buy with their savings and what they'll do when they have a free night to spend out. You especially liked to listen to them talk about Felix; some of them had been here for years, and they knew much about him that you hadn't come to learn yet. It seemed that he'd always been sweet and kind, gentle and shy as a boy, but grew more confident with age and experience. Despite that, according to them, there were still many times where you could catch him becoming pink in the face and shyness bloomed over it the way it had when he was still small. 
It made you curious- what did Felix look like when he was shy? You were sure he must be beautiful; you're not blind after all, you can clearly see that the man you married is handsome beyond what words could describe. Being against an arranged marriage is completely seperate from recognizing that the man you were promised to looks like he was sculpted straight from God's own hands. But it takes more than beauty for you to have feelings for someone, and that's why you liked hearing the tales of his youth, moments that reflected that the Felix you met is the genuine him, no tricks and no falsehoods. And maybe one day, you would see him be shy, and seeing it would spark feelings in your gut that you hadn't felt since the time you were a child with your first crush. 
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“Are you ready to begin the tour?” Felix smiles brightly as he holds out his arm for you the same way he had on the night of your marriage. You had just finished taming your hair and tying half of it behind you with a ribbon when he arrived back at your room, free of whatever his duties were and ready to dedicate the rest of his afternoon to you. When you first stepped out, Felix’s timid stare didn’t go unnoticed by the maids, who insisted on helping you despite being told you were capable of getting ready on your own. 
You chose a simple, muted yellow gown with white trim accents to wear from the clothes you brought with you from home. It was one of your favorite dresses to wear casually as it was light, airy, and easy to walk in. You had no plans to do anything extravagant, but your assigned maids insisted on you wearing at least some jewelry, so you let them place a pearl necklace on you with dainty earrings to match. 
And so, the maids secretly beamed with delight at Felix’s reaction to your appearance (though it wasn’t their added accessories that caught his attention in the first place; it was simply you.) “I’m ready, thank you,” you say as you accept his invitation to link your arms together. Felix shifts his gaze from you to the maids, giving them instructions to finish tidying your room while the two of you are out. They bow politely, getting straight to work on cleaning as you step out of your room, and you can hear their soft delighted giggles even as you are led down the hall. 
The tour started about as you expected, with Felix leading you from room to room and stating simple facts such as “this where my older sister and her husband sleep’ or ‘this is the hall where your family will stay when they next visit’ and so on. Typically, daughters move out of their family homes upon being wed, their entire purpose to give their husband’s family a successful lineage and ideal heir, but you suppose a special exception is made when you’re part of the royal family; you wonder how different your life would be if the expectation to leave your family behind wasn’t placed upon you from birth. 
He has a younger sister as well, one who has yet to be wed and who you met only briefly, but you wonder if she’ll be allowed to live in the castle as well when her time comes, if her husband’s family will have guest rooms just as yours will, and if she’ll have the luxury to stay in the place she’s familiar and comfortable for her entire life. You know his sisters aren’t much different from you; women often don’t have freedom of choice, and you especially doubt the princesses ever get a say in what comes next for them (even if the king and queen are caring people), but at least they still have their home, and their family right there with them. 
You were envious of that; you missed your home and your family so much. Would there ever be a day where you could see the place you grew up in again? How much older would your family be the next time you saw them? Your younger sister, who was still small and naive- how different would she be? How much taller, how much more mature? It saddened you to think about, and you had to consciously make an effort to not think about it any further, and focus instead on the things Felix was showing to you. 
He skips past the dining hall and ballroom since you’ve already become well acquainted with them from the wedding ceremony, and instead brings you to the royal library as your next stop. It was an understatement to say it was gorgeous, but you could find no words to do it justice. It was the largest library you’d ever seen, equipped with grand staircases and beautiful handcrafted spandrels carved into the arches. The bookshelves reached up the ceilings and covered every wall, apart from the back section where large ornate windows filtered in sunlight from the gardens outside (which Felix assured you that you’d be seeing soon.) 
“This is incredible, I’ve never seen such an impressive library!” you practically beam, unable to hide your excitement at the impressive collection of books. You’ve always been a fan of literature, spending countless hours losing yourself in fantasy worlds and star-crossed romances. “I could spend all my days here and still not read everything,” you muse with a smile as you wind your way through various bookshelves, taking note of every title that peaks your interest. 
“With such an extensive collection, there’s bound to be something that suits your tastes,” he says with a smile of his own as he follows you through the winding path of bookcases, “feel free to grab anything you’d like! You are allowed to take from the library as you please.” Oh, you intend on doing just that. You suppose you should start with just a few for now though; the library isn’t going anywhere after all, and neither are you. 
It takes some time, but you eventually decide on a handful books to bring back to your room first, mostly fantasy romance titles (because how can you resist the call of your favorite genre?) Felix, who had been watching fondly as you made your selections, quickly instructs a nearby maid to bring your selections back to your room before asking if you’re ready for the tour of the castle to resume. 
In much higher spirits than when you began, you happily link your arms with Felix again, eager to see what else the castle has to offer you. There’s not much more for you to see on the inside; you’re briefly shown the knight’s barracks and the maid’s quarters, as well as the informal living space his family prefers to relax together in when they have the time. (It’s still extremely elegant and beautiful for an “informal” space, but you digress- they’re royalty, after all.) 
He leads you to the gardens next, which until now you had only seen briefly from the windows, and wow, is it more stunning when actually in front of you than you ever would have believed. All the flowers and hedges are well maintained and vibrant in color, a cobblestone path laid before you and winding around the garden carefully, lattice fence work protecting the flowers in the back and maintaining the border. 
There’s ponds littered about, the cleanest and bluest you’d ever seen, the fish inside clearly visible even at a distance. In the center lies a beautiful marble fountain, with large, meticulously detailed sculptures of what you assume to be a goddess to adorn the surroundings. It’s all utterly breathtaking, beyond anything you’d ever seen at home in the south. As you reach the end of the cobblestone path, there lies an iron wrought gazebo with matching seating and a table beneath, right in the center. 
Felix unlinks your arms and steps up first, holding his hand out to you to accept as you proceed carefully up the few steps up to the gazebo. He pulls a chair out for you, smiling when you accept the seat and then takes his own seat directly across from you. There’s still a chill in the air, as spring has only just begun to set in the north, but the sunlight that filters through the iron keeps you sufficiently warm.
“Would you like some tea? You must be tired after all the walking we’ve done,” Felix asks after he’s gotten more comfortable in his seat, the iron cold at first but warming up quickly due to his own body heat. “That’d be lovely,” you answer sincerely, and he smiles again, looking around quickly for any nearby attendants he can call to assist the two of you. Within minutes you are provided with fresh tea, as well as a handful of biscuit style cookies, and you thank the maids for their quick work as warmly as you can.
“It’s been so long since I last walked the entirety of the castle grounds, I’d forgotten how tiring it is,” Felix sighs after he takes a sip of his tea, seemingly unphased by the high temperature of it. You on the other hand are snacking on the cookies you’d been provided as you wait for the tea to cool, having no desire to scorch your tongue and potentially embarrass yourself in front of your husband. 
“Yes, I can’t imagine doing it daily. The maids certainly have their work cut out for them,” you empathize, truly hoping they feel appreciated for all the work they’ve done for you thus far, and have done for what you imagine to be decades for some of them. You didn’t have much help on your family’s estate back home, but it was much less grand in comparison to the splendor of the castle you now live in. 
The moments that follow are serene; you listen to Felix talk about various things pertaining to the castle as you sip your tea, including stories of how he used to get lost as a child and always needed someone's help to get back to where he needed to be. You laughed once, when he told you about a time he got stuck in a utility closet and cried until he was discovered by a maid, who had to spend several minutes calming him down before carrying him back to his room. 
It was a cute story, and you couldn’t help but giggle from how he dramatically explained the darkness that encompassed him and how terrified 7 year old Felix was at that moment. You were worried for a moment after that it’d seem like you were laughing at him and not with him, but the way he smiled at you after he heard your laugh told you he was perfectly happy with your reaction. 
It was the first time he heard you laugh since you arrived- genuinely laugh, and he liked it. It made him feel warm, and gave him hope that you were finally starting to feel comfortable around him. He’d never hurt you, and he hoped that as you grew closer to him, you could genuinely love him one day. That’s all he wants really; to love the person he’s married to, and be loved in return. 
He’s seen it happen before; his parents, whose marriage was decided long before he was born but was the truest form of love he’d ever seen, and with his older sister, who was against her marriage at first but came to be truly in love with the man she was promised to. He wanted that to, to love and be loved with all his heart, to have something special and all his own with the woman he was promised to. And he'd work hard, do everything he could to show you that he was someone worthy to give your heart to. 
You stayed in the gardens for some time, simply talking and enjoying the scenery until the sun began to shift behind the trees. The shade brought a deeper chill with it, a slight shiver crawling over your skin each time the wind blew. “Let’s go back inside, there’s still something I want to show you,” Felix suggests upon seeing the way your body tensed from the chill creeping over you. You easily accept the offer, letting him lead you out of the gardens and back to the castle.
Warmth immediately spreads through you when you’re back inside the castle’s walls, body releasing its cold tension as you let Felix guide you to where he wants to go next, your arm linked in his as is coming to be your norm. You come to a now familiar hall- the one with your bedrooms, and Felix stops in front of the doors to his room, the one you will one day share in the future. “Your room..?” you ask, looking at him inquisitively. 
“I’m not asking you to move in yet, just to see it, if that’s okay with you,” he explains his intentions, ensuring that he means you no harm by inviting you into the private space. Felix has given you no reason to mistrust him at all, and while there is some slight hesitancy due to your own fears, you agree easier than you expected yourself to. He’s trustworthy, you think; he’s a gentleman through and through, and he’s shown you more than once how considerate and respectful he is, so.. Why not? 
The royal knights guarding his room open the doors for you at Felix’s signal, and the two of you step inside together, letting the guards close the door behind you to offer you privacy (not that you necessarily need it at the moment.) His room is similar to yours, with much of the same features, but much larger in scale and with items you imagine are specific to Felix’s own tastes. His furniture holds the same blue and white tones as yours, but with the additions of a lovely yellow, reminiscent of the sun shining in an almost clear sky. 
He has a fireplace, only slightly larger than the one in your room, and you can tell even from a distance that his attached bath is very grand in both appearance and size. The biggest difference from your own room however has to be the piano sitting in the corner of his room, large and spectacular in its handcrafted design. You cautiously step closer to it, carefully running your hand over the sleekly painted black wood, fingertips tracing over the gold leaf accents. 
“This is beautiful,” you say, turning back to look at him when you’re done admiring the beauty of what you can only assume is his personal piano, “do you play?” “I learned as a boy,” he answers with a beaming smile full of pride as he takes a seat in front of the keys, “I haven’t had much time to play recently, but it’s one of my favorite things to do. I always feel the happiest when I’m playing.”
He motions for you to take a seat on the nearby chaise, so you do, sitting comfortably against the soft cushion. “Would you like to hear a song?” he asks, a bit nervous but eager to show you what he can do after years of diligent practice. “I’d love that,” you reply, his infectious joy causing you to smile as well. You watch as he turns his attention to the keys in front of him, his face changing as he closes his eyes, the smile you had become accustomed to seeing fading as he prepared to focus. 
The song starts soft and slow, and while you didn’t recognize the melody, you found it entrancing and indescribably beautiful and serene. You watched and listened in awe as he continued, his eyes still closed and body swaying along with the melody he was playing. His ability to play without looking at the keys or sheet music amazed you, and attested to the fact that this is indeed something he loves to do. 
You clapped when he finished the song, and his expression immediately returned to the vibrant smile he often held. “That was beautiful Felix! You’re really talented,” you praise him earnestly, truly moved by his talent. “Oh, no, anyone who has played as long as I have can do that,” he insists despite the light blush crawling on his features from your compliment. 
“You’re being modest,” you say, hoping he recognizes that you truly mean it, and aren’t just saying so to be kind or polite. You’ve seen a fair amount of people play the piano in your time attending balls and banquets, but saw no one as talented and clearly passionate as Prince Felix. Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to being so openly complimented, or the fact that he had never played in front of anyone but his family, but he found that the praise affected him in a way he couldn’t have anticipated. 
No, it was because it was you specifically complimenting him that made his face flush and heart beat just the tiniest bit faster. Was it strange to hope to hear you compliment him more in the future? Maybe one day you’d compliment his appearance; tell him he was handsome, or beautiful, or cute even. He’d be happy with any of them, as long as they were from you. He'll tell you too- how beautiful you are when you smile, your excitement over your books cute, your very presence endearing. He knows it's too soon to call his feelings love, because how do you fall in love with a stranger in only a few weeks time? But he's certain that one day, maybe not too far off from today, it will be love, and the warmth and joy he feels whenever you look at him will expand tenfold, beyond anything he's ever experienced before now. 
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Since the first time you’d entered Felix’s room and he’d played the piano for you, it had become routine for you to spend most of your days there with him, listening to him calmly play melodies while you silently read your books. It was nice listening to him play while you were reading; it felt like it added a special ambience, and helped you get even further lost in the tales written on the page. 
Sometimes you’d even notice him watching you read from your peripheral, smiling to himself for just a moment before he turned his attention back to the keys. When his fingers grew tired, you’d start to read aloud, oftentimes at his own request. Felix explained that he liked listening to you read, and you imagined that the feeling was similar to how you felt listening to him play piano.
Relaxing, comfortable, serene; that’s how the two of you felt listening to the other. Honestly, you were embarrassed to do so at first; after all, the book you were reading at the time had to do with with a woman in a magical fantasy land falling in love with an elf, and you would’ve been extremely embarrassed if he laughed at the concept or shamed you for your taste in literature. 
However, you found that he listened to you intently, like the tale you were reading from the pages was of the utmost importance for him to hear. He’d ask follow up questions when you were further in the book than he last heard, often asking what happened next and if the characters had overcome whatever trial they had been facing yet.  
Felix remembered all the details of what you read to him- the setting, the character’s names, what their thoughts and feelings were at the point you’d read them to him. It impressed you, as well made you feel warm and a little fuzzy. It showed how much he genuinely cared, that he listened to you and cared about the things you care about, that he wanted to know what you like beyond a superficial level. 
Whenever night came however, you retreated back to your own room, promising you’d return the next day. Maybe it was silly to not officially move into the bedroom you were meant to share when you had begun to spend most of your days there, but you simply weren’t ready to yet. You’d grown to trust Felix quite a bit, but sleeping next to him still seemed a step too far out of your comfort zone. 
You also worried it’d send him the wrong message- you didn’t want him to think anything would come of you sharing a bed just yet. You just found his presence comforting, and that was all. You knew, since the very day you first came here, that he hoped the two of you would share his room when you were ready, but you didn’t want to unintentionally give him something he thought was more than it was supposed to be. 
It seemed so.. Intimate, much more than you had ever been with someone. You liked him, and you trusted him, that much was true- but enough to share a bed? It was nerve-wracking to think about, and while you knew it would happen someday, there was no need to rush it along; especially not when he was giving you the freedom and space to tackle your marriage on your own terms. 
But on nights like tonight, when your heart was heavy and tears pricked the corner of your eyes, you wondered if you should’ve just moved in with Felix already. It was only a matter of time before the warm weather brought rain with it, and alongside the downpour came thunderstorms. You weren’t sure what time of night it was when the crash of thunder woke you from your sleep, but as the grogginess faded and the sound sat with you, your heart ached terribly. 
You didn’t hate thunderstorms- in fact, you didn’t mind them at all, usually finding them quite pleasant to watch and listen to. It was your sister that hated them, who’d crawl into your bed every time one struck, trembling hands rousing you from your deep slumber and clinging to you the moment you awoke and offered her a place next to you. And each time a thunderstorm rolled through, you couldn't help but think about her, sadness encroaching over you without any means to stop it. 
What was the weather like back home, you wondered? Had spring's rain been gentle to her so far or were the storms as prevalant there as they were here? Would your sister suffer through it alone now that you weren’t there to comfort her? Your parents were kind, but you weren’t entirely sure they’d allow her to crawl into bed with them, or to hold her close as she cried the way you always had. 
How much of the remainder of her childhood would you come to miss? In just a few years time, she’ll be a woman the same as you, married into a new family and away from the last of her comforts. You don’t hate where you are now, nor do you hate Felix or the family you now call your own, but you miss the people you grew up with, and your little sister most of all. 
You miss holding her hand, hugging her when she’s scared, wiping away her tears when she’s sad or frightened. You miss guiding her through the lessons you once took, helping her to understand and offering the help you didn’t have then due to being the oldest. You miss giggling together when sharing stories, how cute she looked when happily accepting and showcasing your hand-me-down dresses that were now hers. 
Before you knew it, tears rolled down your cheeks, the ache in your chest unable to be ignored or pushed aside any longer. It was as if all the sadness you’d been harboring surfaced all at once, and the moment one tear fell, another followed, and another, until you were openly sobbing, unable to control or stop it from happening. 
You thought again of Felix, who was just a short trip down the hall from you. Would it be alright to go see him? You promised you’d go to him if you needed something, and well.. You could use some comfort, if you were being honest with yourself. If you lit some candles and tried to read to distract your mind, all you’d effectively do is blur the pages and stain them with your tears, unable to focus on the words in front of you as your mind swirled and processed all your emotions. 
Felix, while still relatively new to you and finding his place in your life, is your family now. Who else can you approach with your melancholy if not him? He’s sweet- he’ll comfort you, he’ll listen to you, he’ll be patient and considerate. In the nearly 2 months since you’d first arrived, he’s always shown you just how gentle of a person he is. And he always seemed genuine when expressing his desire to share his life with you, and be someone you could trust and rely on. 
You take a few deep breaths to steady yourself, wiping the tears from your face as you rise from your bed. Your night guards seem surprised when the doors to your room open and you emerge from them, but ultimately they say nothing, letting you walk down the hall without interruption and closing your doors for you. 
Felix’s guards, who recognize you even in the dim light of the candles on the walls as his wife, acknowledge you with a brief, professional nod when you stop in front of the doors. You hesitate there for a moment, wondering if this is really okay or if you should abandon this idea and turn back to your room, but his guards, who mistake your hesitance as you waiting for them to open the doors, do so as quietly as they can, motioning for you to go ahead and step inside the room. 
Well, there’s no going back now that they’ve opened the doors for you, so you quietly step inside, thanking them softly and letting them pull the large doors shut behind you. The room is dark, the light that would normally pour in from the moon being obscured by the dark rain clouds that hang in the sky. His candles are all responsibly blown out, but your eyes are adjusted to the darkness enough to find your way to his bed regardless. 
You swallow, hand trembling as you reach out to him, shaking him gently and mirroring the actions your sister used to take when she woke you up at night. He groans sleepily, voice deep and gravely as he stirs awake, eyes slowly drawing open, wearily looking for the source of what woke him. Felix sees you standing above him, but it takes his sleep-addled brain a moment to process the sight, half wondering if his weary eyes are playing a trick on him. 
But no, it really is you, looking at him with sad eyes and a quivering bottom lip, and he can feel the tremble in your hand that rests on his shoulder now that he’s fully conscious. He sits up quickly, concern painting his face as he gives you his undivided attention. “Y/N, what’s the matter? Has something happened?” Your voice wavers as you try to tell him, I’m sad, I’m lonely, I miss everyone from home, but it doesn’t fully come out, the words dying in your throat as tears well in your eyes again. 
He opens his arms to you and you crumble into them, burying your head in his chest as you allow yourself to cry. He sympathetically whispers your name, careful as he wraps his arms around you in a hug, conscious of where he allows his hands to rest. He doesn’t know what's wrong, what has brought you to such tears, but he’s glad you came to him with them. It would’ve saddened Felix to later learn that you suffered in your room alone when he would’ve gladly done whatever he could for you. 
And then he hears it- the crack of thunder, lightning illuminating the room for a brief moment before you’re sheathed again in darkness. Was that the problem? Were you frightened? You weren’t of course, but he didn’t know that, and he comforted you through your sobbing as if you were. “It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m here with you,” he told you, his voice a deep whisper, holding you just a bit together whenever lightning struck, fully believing the problem was that you were afraid. 
Despite the misconception, you were comforted all the same. This was exactly what you were hoping for, what you needed to hear. The storm eventually recedes, as does your sobbing, the room becoming ever so slightly more illuminated as the rain clouds pass onward. He can see your face more clearly now when you look at him again, can see how wet and shiny your cheeks have become from fallen tears, but you also appear calmer, your lip trembling much less and breaths less shaky. 
“Are you feeling alright?” he asks softly, carefully, and it is now you become hyper aware of the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, of your head resting against his chest, of the sound of his heartbeat in your ears. You relax your fingers, which you realize were clutching his sleep shirt quite hard, the fabric having become harshly wrinkled from your grasp. He loosens his arms to let you lift yourself away from him, watching silently as you wipe your face clean. 
You hesitate to meet his gaze- not because you feel embarrassed over your outpouring of your emotions, but conscious of how close you just were, and how natural it felt to have his arms around you. Maybe the fact that it felt so right is a testament of how close you’ve grown in the time you've been here, and how comfortable he makes you feel. “I’m sorry for waking you,” you mutter quietly now that you’ve found your voice again; you know his duties leave him tired, so there’s a tinge of guilt you feel for interrupting his rest. 
“Don’t say that, I’m glad you woke me,” he assures you, and he’d reach out and hug you tight again if he knew he could. You believe him- you know how earnest and sincere Felix is, and that he cares about you; maybe not in the way a husband cares about his wife, but cares nonetheless. You should be honest too, clarify why you were really crying so he doesn’t grow to think you’re genuinely afraid of thunderstorms. 
“I, uh- I’m not afraid of storms, that’s not why I was crying. Well, it was, but not because I was frightened,” you explain, and Felix looks a bit puzzled, but nods anyways, listening carefully to what you tell him. You tell him everything- how your sister was afraid of them, how you spent many dark nights easing her fears, and how your tears were born from how much you miss her, and your family as a whole. 
His heart breaks for you, truly, it does. He assumed you missed your family, he took notice of how close you were to them on the night of your ceremony, but there was no way he could’ve known how deep your pain was. And really, he can’t imagine what it’s like to be in your situation. What if it was him who had to separate from his parents and siblings to live somewhere new? Would he be able to handle it with as much acceptance and grace as you have? 
You never complained about anything, even when you were saddened. You treated everyone around you kindly, never spoke ill of anyone or about your circumstances, and that’s when he realizes you have much more inner strength than he’d known. There’s a small prick of guilt he feels for taking you away from your family, but even if it wasn’t him that you married, it still would’ve happened to you someday.
He wishes he knew what he could say or do to comfort you the best; there was nothing that could completely take the ache away, of that he was sure, but if he could make it better somehow then he’d do whatever he could. You can see the gears turning in his brain, can see him struggle with finding the words to say, unsure if what he’d done for you thus far was good enough. 
And there’s a new dilemma brewing in your mind- what do you do now that you’re calm? Do you just.. leave? Go back to your solitude and spend the rest of the night alone? If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t entirely want to go back to your room. Maybe it was time for you to finally move in with Felix, and share the room, share the bed, as you were meant to. It’s a strange feeling you don’t entirely recognize and know what to do with; you just know that you want to stay here, with him, and feel his arms around you again. 
Maybe it’s simply because he’s all you have here; which isn’t entirely true, but it is how you feel. Do you have a family here? Yes, the royal family is your family now too. Do you have friends here? Yes, you’ve grown quite close to your maids and other staff you interact with. But are you comfortable enough to be vulnerable in front of them, or to share your feelings of loneliness and homesickness? No, and in that regard, Felix is all you have. 
Felix is your companion in this lonely place, the person who makes your days brighter and bearable through the melancholy, the one who ebbs away your sadness and replaces it with warmth. And you spend all your days with him, next to him, talking to him, sharing everything, including silence. Would it be so bad to allow yourself this comfort? To finally take a step forward and move into the room you were meant to share? 
There’s a part of you that’s scared to take that step, afraid to confront what your desire to be close to him means, unsure how to unravel and make sense of the complexities of your thoughts. But there is an undeniable truth- Felix is your husband, and that would likely never change. So even if you don’t love him, wasn’t it okay to be close to him regardless? He makes you smile, he makes you laugh with his stories and jokes, he plays the piano for you and listens to you so intently, he makes you feel warm and fuzzy; and he told you he wants you to be here.
Maybe he doesn’t love you yet, but he’s expressed that he wants to, that he hopes the two of you will look at each other fondly and live happily. And maybe you don’t love him yet, but that doesn’t mean that the day you do is far off. You look at him, take in the compassion and concern he holds for you, allow the feeling of warmth to seep into your pores; you may not be in love with him, but you do still have love for him. Isn’t that enough? 
“Felix, if it’s alright.. Can I-,” you pause a moment, shy apprehension prickling your skin, but you collect yourself enough to continue, “I want to stay. Here, with you.” You can see even in the low light how his eyes widen, though it’s hard to decipher whether or not his surprise is pleasant, but you hope it is given how he’s expressed his hopes for the future. “A-Are you sure?” he asks, not at all against the idea, just surprised by your admission.
“I don’t want to be alone again, at least not tonight,” you explain, hoping he understands, “And I don’t have to move in completely if you’re not ready for me to, but.. I spend all my days here with you anyways, so.. I want to, if that’s okay.” Felix’s heart is racing, his face growing pinker by the second, and he feels lucky you’re making this confession in the darkness, where you can’t easily tell how obvious his blush is. 
“Of course you can stay,” he says, shifting more to the side to allow you the space you need to get comfortable under his thick blanket. He’s stiff when he first lies down next to you, unsure of whether or not it was okay to touch you, whether or not you’d even like it if something as simple as his arm being pressed against yours was alright with you. He already knew he was undeniably attracted to you, but he’d never do something if you were uncomfortable, or touch you without explicit permission, even if the touch was meant to be comforting as opposed to romantic.
But you reach out to him first, softly ask him to hug you again, and he’s more than happy to oblige your request. You can hear the rapid beat of his heart as you move in close, and you wonder if he’s nervous; you are too, to be fair. You’ve never lied this close to a man before, or let one hold you in his arms the way you let Felix, never shared a bed with anyone but family. But you want this, and despite the nerves that come with doing something so new to you, you’re happy, comfortable. 
Felix’s heart begins to slow the longer you lie together, as does yours, and the exhaustion that comes with crying, as well as being woken in the middle of the night, takes hold over you. You fall asleep first, though Felix is not far behind you, the soft sound of your even breaths akin to a lullaby in his fatigued state. You’re warm, comfortable, safe; you may not have all the things that were once familiar to you, but you have Felix, a person who radiates kindness and compassion, a person who despite everything, makes you happy. 
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There’s part of you that wonders if sharing a room with Felix was a decision made too hastily; not because he did anything wrong, but because it came with unforeseen challenges. What was the challenge? Dressing, undressing, bathing to name a few. He was always respectful, kept his back turned to you whilst you were changing or kept himself away from the attached bath if you were in it, and you likewise never peeked towards him when the opposite occurred. 
You certainly didn’t regret your decision- after all, you spent all your days with Felix, so it only made sense to spend your nights with him too now that you felt comfortable enough. But there was a certain timidness that came with undressing in the presence of a man, even if said man wasn’t looking and had his gaze fixed to the wall until you were finished. You wondered though, wouldn’t there come a day where he was allowed to look? 
The thought of Felix someday looking at your exposed, bare skin made an unfamiliar feeling well in your gut- one that was entirely foreign to you, but not at all unpleasant. Butterflies, perhaps? You’d read about the sensation in your novels, the characters often expressing how seeing the one they love made their stomach react in ways strange and new. And as explained in the countless romances you read, your heart would race when he held your gaze after you emerged from the bath, your face would flush whenever his touch lingered for longer than what you would consider typical of a friendly relationship. 
It was no exaggeration to say that sharing a room with Felix brought you even closer than before, and once you got past your initial shyness, the weeks that followed were some of the most pleasant you’d had. You settled into a nice routine, sharing breakfast before he had to depart to attend to his royal duties, while you spent the rest of your morning and early afternoon perusing the library shelves for your next read or sitting out in the gardens, sometimes reading in the warm light of the sun, sometimes simply enjoying the scenery around you. 
You’d reunite at dinner time, sometimes sharing that time with family in the dining hall and other times eating in the privacy and comfort of your room. Felix would often insist that you bathe first, ever a gentleman to you, but on days he seemed particularly worn out and exhausted you would do your best to convince him he needed one more than you, encouraged him to relax and let the hot water soothe away any aches. 
No matter the order of the bath, your nights would end the same; you’d spend the last few hours of your day listening to Felix play the piano as you read, oftentimes reading your literature aloud once he grew tired and joined you where you sat, whether that be the chaise facing the piano, the sofa across from the fireplace, or simply the bed. On the nights he was extra tired, his eyes would grow heavy and close as you read to him, and when you gently told him he was falling asleep, he’d mumble that he was still listening, urging you to continue. 
It was endearing, and there was a certain joy you felt in lulling him to sleep with your softly spoken words, knowing that even as the comfort seeped into his bones and urged him to rest, all he wanted was to listen to you. You liked to think it even helped him, hoping that you brought him as much solace as he brought you, hoping that you alleviated and dispelled any troubles simply by being there for him the way he was for you. 
Tonight was another such day; the changing of the season brought with it longer, warmer days, and often the sun wouldn’t begin to sink until you were already well into your nightly routine. The moon had just begun to emerge when Felix settled down on the sofa next to you, making sure he lit the candles before he sat as darkness began to settle in. It was a bit of a challenge at times to read in the dim, wavering light of the candles, but you’d grown used to it in your time as a novel enjoyer, and you welcomed the cozy atmosphere the candlelight brought. 
He listened to you intently at first, but the more you spoke the words from the pages, with your steady, soft and even pace, the more sleep called to him, and it became a struggle for his eyes to remain open. His head rested against the back of the sofa, the cushion acting as a pillow for his weary body. Your softly spoken words, along with the low light the candles brought to the room, were enough to call him to sleep much faster than he’d otherwise expect.
You pause when you notice his eyes have completely closed, not sure if he’s still listening with his eyes shut, or is indeed asleep as you suspect. But when he makes no reaction to your pause, you are certain sleep has taken him, and you smile as you quietly close your book. You set it down on the nearby table, wondering if you should try and wake him, request him to move to the bed, or if it’d be better to bring over a blanket and let him be. 
You look at him, quietly taking in the sight of his sleeping form. Felix is beautiful, even whilst sleeping, and you wonder if he knows that. His eyelashes are long, his freckles a unique and expansive constellation, his parted lips and honeyed skin almost entracing to look at, begging to be admired by all who look. And admire him you did, in quiet moments like this, where everything was serene, in the space belonging only to the two of you, a space where you are the only ones who exist. 
Carefully, you reach out to him, gently tapping on his shoulder until he stirs. “Felix,” you call softly, and he barely opens his eyes, letting out a small, groggy ‘hmm?’ in response. “You fell asleep,” you tell him quietly, voice almost a whisper, “let’s go to bed.” He hums his agreement, which due to his deep, sleepy voice sounds more like a grumble. You rise from the sofa first, offering a hand for stability if he needs it. 
He falls to the bed with a grunt, barely managing to pull the blankets up over his shoulders, and you can’t help but giggle at the display. You work your way around the room before you join him, blowing out the candles until the room’s only illumination comes from the moonlight peaking through the window curtains. You’re not quite as tired as Felix, but you settle into bed regardless, knowing that once you’re under the blankets and comfortably next to him, sleep won’t be all that far behind. 
Felix has been working extra hard lately, preparing for an upcoming ball to celebrate the summer solstice. Apparently they hold it annually, as well as one for the winter solstice, but you had arrived at winter’s end and after that celebration had already concluded. It keeps the spirits of the commoners high, gives them an event to look forward to, and gives them a chance to mingle with those from other, father towns who come in to join the celebration of the season. 
That’s not its only purpose however; it also gives the royal family a chance to meet with other officials and people of high standing beyond that of just letters, and ensure that they continue to have a prosperous, mutually beneficial relationship. Dukes, barons, soldiers who have returned from war-torn fields- it’s important for the king, and by extension Felix, to know where they stand with all of them. 
Of course, you were no stranger to lessons in diplomacy, but you’re sure there is much more Felix has to keep in mind than simply being diplomatic. There’s a lot that goes into the politics of the kingdom, and you can’t imagine the weight that falls on his shoulders, knowing that one day he’ll inherit the responsibility of deciding the future of everyone within his territory. It’s also possible that someday, your knowledge from growing up in the south will be a vital asset to him, and that he’ll seek your input on how to govern the farthest reaches of the kingdom.
You sigh a little, moving in closer to Felix. It’s best not to stress yourself out with thoughts about governing the kingdom, or about the upcoming ball; it’ll be your first ball as a married couple in the public eye, and there’s a separate set of nerves that come along with that. You wonder how much like a couple you should act; should you stay glued to his side, act lovey-dovey for the duration of the night, or would that be unseemly for royalty to do? 
It’s possible there’s no need for you to appear in love- after all, it’s no secret that arranged marriages can be loveless. But still, you think it’d be beneficial for the people to see you genuinely care for Felix- it could set a positive example, and show that the north and south have no need to fight against each other. You think if you just act natural, and don’t put too much thought and effort into “proving” you love Felix, then the people will see your honest feelings come through.  And besides, you told yourself you wouldn't worry about such things now that you were in bed, so your only priority should be going to sleep. 
Felix’s arm rests around your waist, which is normal for you now. After the first night, when he hugged you until you fell asleep, it felt nice to wake up with his arm still there, holding you close. He apologized the next morning when you woke up, worried that he may have made you uncomfortable, though he didn’t have control of where his arm lied once he’d fallen deeply into sleep. You assured him though that it was perfectly fine- in fact, it was comfortable, and you enjoyed the closeness after feeling so lonely. 
It became a natural part of how you slept, his arm always around you, sometimes loosely, and other times strongly keeping you close. Now was one such time you were held loosely, his arm limp with sleep but you didn’t mind; it gives you the ability to easily adjust your position turning so that his hand was against your back and your head could rest close to his chest. Your movement rouses him slightly, and he instinctively holds you tighter.
You whisper an apology for unintentionally waking him with your movement, not entirely sure that he’s even alert enough to truly hear you, but you say it regardless. You guess he does hear you, because he mumbles a response, though it’s not entirely decipherable. “..ove you.” “Hmm?” you hum in question, glancing up to look at him, but it’s no use- he’s back to sleep within seconds, as if he was never awoken at all. Oh well, it likely wasn’t anything important, probably just dreamy ramblings of a tired mind, or an acceptance of your apology. Maybe tomorrow you can ask him if he dreamt anything pleasant, or if you appeared to him in your dreams the same way he had begun to in yours. 
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You were well into the solstice ball, sighing as you stood off to the side of all the dancing, feeling exhausted from everything you were experiencing. You thought your wedding was tiring, but this was somehow even worse; when you got married to Felix, only locals to the town were welcome inside the castle to witness it and celebrate, otherwise chaos could ensue. But with the solstice ball, any and everyone was welcome, and with that came a myriad of people for you to meet and communicate with. 
Most who attended were eager to see the prince’s wife, curious about what sort of woman he’d married, and you couldn’t help but be anxious about what opinion they’d hold of you after seeing you in the flesh. Honestly, you wanted to make a good impression; you’d be saddened if you were unliked by those who would one day be your people alongside Felix. Your father was someone who governed with compassion, and the royal family were much the same, and you hoped they could see you held the same values. 
Still, it was tiring to portray your best self for hours without end, and you took the opportunity for a break at the first moment you could. You stayed at Felix’s side for the first hour of the evening before going your separate ways, him mingling with various men of high status while you traveled the ballroom floor, introducing yourself to as many people as you could. There were still many people for you to meet and talk with, but hopefully they’d understand your need to take a moment for yourself. 
You sipped on some water, your throat thankful for the soothing liquid, having become quite parched from all the talking you’d done. You also looked yourself over briefly in one of the ballroom’s mirrors, making sure everything about your appearance was still neatly in place; you had went out to town with Felix to get a new dress, and it arrived mere days before the ball, just in time. 
You expressed that you were worried about your appearance, the dresses you’d brought from home being expensive and beautiful, sure, but still falling short when compared to the lavish gowns his sisters and mother wore. Felix, who didn’t entirely realize he was speaking his thoughts aloud, said you’d look beautiful in anything, and both of your faces went red, before he coughed awkwardly and quickly changed the subject, saying that they could simply buy you a new dress if you’d needed it. 
You did also consider borrowing a gown from his older sister, but he insisted that was nonsense when they were more than capable of buying something specifically for you, and so you’d agreed to go out to town with him, going to a seamstress well-respected and trusted by the royal family. It was your first outing since your arrival, not because anything necessarily stopped you from leaving if you wanted to, but simply because it required the coordination and cooperation of the royal guard accompanying you, and really, you had no need to leave until then. 
After the seamstress’ daughter took your measurements, and you answered various questions pertaining to color and style, as well as looking over and feeling various samples of fabric, you were free to leave, with the promise that once your dress was ready, her daughter would bring it to the castle, along with an alteration kit if any adjustments were needed. Before returning to the castle, Felix brought you to a jeweler, and you also passed a bookstore, where you couldn’t help but notice your favorite novel was on display.
Felix asked about it when you noticed your subtle pause to look, asked if you wanted to go inside and look around, or buy the copy of your favorite novel that was on display, but you told him there was no need. After all, you still had your very well-loved copy at home (which, while beginning to fall apart, was still perfectly readable and sentimental to you), and countless books in the library you still had interest in before feeling the need to purchase any new ones. 
All that to say, your night on the town was well spent, and you were thankful how well your gown and jewelry came together, and you truly felt good about your appearance tonight. Your maids also dutifully perfected your hair and makeup, and even hours into the night, you found no imperfection with either. Felix also went red in the face when he first saw your completed look, much to the delight of your maids, who had to suppress their gleeful giggles; it seemed they loved when Felix looked at you with awe. 
You allow an attending maid to take your water from your hands when you are finished with it, thanking them with sincere politeness. You give yourself another moment to collect yourself before returning to the main ballroom floor, careful not to bump into those dancing as you make your way through the crowd of people. You hoped to locate Felix, and see whether or not he’s still caught up in whatever political talk he was having when you last brushed past him. 
Instead, you hear a familiar voice questioningly call your name, and you pause, stopping to look around for the source. It couldn’t be.. could it? “Christopher!” you gasp, met with the sight of a boy, now man, you hadn't seen in nearly 3 years, “What are you doing here?” “Didn’t you know? My station is just a few towns over,” he explains with a smile. Honestly, you were completely shocked. Your fathers were close friends, and though Chris was a few years older than you, you’d spent a lot of time together due to the close relationship of your fathers, both personal and professional. 
While your father is a duke, Chris’ was a very well-respected knight, who earned the title of baron due to his unwavering loyalty and dedication to serving your father, having sworn his fealty to him many years ago, before you were even born. Chris had similar ambitions as his father, and dedicated himself to training from a young age, always expressing that one day he’d serve the royal family. Coincidentally, he was also your first, and only, childhood crush. 
And truly, you didn’t know that he lived in a relatively short proximity to the town you now called home. Upon meeting the requirements to join the royal guard, he was sent north to receive further orders, and you’d lost contact with him not long afterwards, with the only news you’d learned being that he married a year after moving from the town you both grew up in- an arranged marriage, same as you. 
His wife, as far as you were aware, was a local girl whose family offered a significant dowry to be married to such a well-respected and honorable family. You wondered more than once if he was happy, and if your father ever considered Chris as a potential husband to you, but in recent times you stopped lingering on such thoughts completely. Your situation was set in stone, and you didn’t bother entertaining thoughts on what-if’s and could-be’s now that you too were married. 
“I didn’t! But it’s nice to see you again, I didn’t expect to see a familiar face,” you tell him sincerely; disregarding the childhood feelings you once held for him, it truly is nice to see a friend from home again. “I was surprised when I heard you were the one Prince Felix married, and so I had to take this chance to see you again, and see the truth of it for myself.” You giggle a little, imagine what Chris must’ve looked like when he learned his childhood friend had married someone so important. 
“I was surprised too, believe me. I never anticipated marrying into the royal family,” you say, smiling as you speak. Though there were hardships that came with being relocated and away from family, now that you were growing accustomed to your life here, you actually found it pleasant. And you really enjoyed Felix’s presence, and while you were initially upset about your marriage, you had truly begun to view it as a good thing in the recent weeks. 
“Did your wife come too? It’d be lovely to meet her,” you ask as a follow up, hoping she was somewhere nearby. “Mm, she’s here somewhere,” he replies, much more dismissive about the topic than you’d expect him to be. It makes you want to ask if his relationship with her is bad, but perhaps that’s not appropriate to ask given the circumstances. “Would you like to dance?” he asks, quickly shifting focus, and you hesitate, a slight frown forming on your face. 
Normally, you wouldn’t be opposed to sharing a dance with a friend, but the circumstances surrounding your lives have changed substantially since you were last in contact. You’re both married, and even if it meant nothing beyond friendship for either of you, there was an image that needed to be upheld at all times, especially in the eyes of the public. And you couldn’t help but think about what his wife, or Felix, would think if they saw you dancing with each other. 
Felix knew Chris by name alone from times you talked about home, but there was no way for him to know what he looked like. And in turn, you don’t know if Chris’ wife knows who you even are, if you’d be crossing a boundary in your respective relationships without even knowing it. Further still, the thought of Felix seeing you in the arms of another and being upset, or even jealous, is enough to deter you from making that decision. 
You’re trying to form something real with Felix despite the circumstances that brought you together, and you won’t do anything to hinder that. You want him to know that you respect your marriage, and that you won’t put his feelings in jeopardy by entertaining the advances of other men. Not that you think Chris means anything by his request, but still- better to be safe about these things than sorry. 
It’s strange though; you already knew you like Felix quite a lot, and care about his feelings, but there’s something beyond that, that makes you want to abide by the sanctity of your marriage. Technically speaking, you only have to be a devoted wife in public. It’s no secret that those in arranged marriages have concubines and secret affairs. If you truly wanted to, you could do the same, but you have no wish to do so. 
Is it loyalty? Love? All you really understand is that you never want to do anything to break Felix’s heart. You also don’t know if he even has enough romantic interest in you to be jealous in the first place, but either way, that’s not an emotion you want to cause him to feel. Some may be happy to see their betrothed jealous, but you’re not that kind of woman; instead, you’d feel rather guilty and apologetic. 
You glance across the crowd, spotting Felix still mingling with his father and other men of high status, completely unaware of the situation you’ve found yourself in. Hopefully, you can return to his side soon, once you're done catching up with Chris. “I’m afraid I can’t,” you finally say, hoping he understands your need to politely turn him down. “What a shame,” he sighs a bit, his hand reaching out to you and settling on your arm, near your shoulder, “You look beautiful tonight. I would’ve loved to share a dance with you, as adults.” 
“O-Oh, thank you,” you mutter, taken aback by the words that left him. The Chris you knew was never so forward, nor did he ever openly compliment you. If you’re being honest, you’re not entirely sure how to respond; this was a situation your younger self would have dreamed of, but now you just feel.. odd. “I’ve always thought you were beautiful, even when we were kids. I never imagined this where life would take us, but.. If it’s your public image that worries you, maybe I could seek you out later, and we could have some alone time?” he continues seamlessly, as if this is a sentence he’s practiced in his head over and over again. 
Again, this is something your younger self would’ve been ecstatic about, even prayed for, but now you just feel.. uncomfortable. You don’t feel flattered by his compliment, nor do you like the implication of his statement, and you recoil away from the hand that lingers uncomfortably on your arm. “We can't do that,” you say firmly, doing your utmost to make it clear you have no desire to partake in a scandalous relationship with him. You liked him once, but you were a kid then, and what you feel now for Felix is much more grounded in reality than the puppy love you had for Chris. 
“Why not?” he asks, looking at you with eyes that would’ve once made you melt. And there is genuine hurt there, which you do feel sorry about, but you simply don’t return the sentiment he seems to have. “We're both married. Shouldn't you be loyal to your wife?” you counter; even if your marriage to Felix isn’t born of “real” love, you have no interest in infidelity, nor do you want to be the reason Chris is unfaithful in his marriage.
“I don't love her, I never have. And though I moved of my own volition, I always wondered what would’ve happened if I stayed behind, and expressed my desires to make you mine. But what of you? Do you love your husband?” His words, his question, make you swallow, unsure how best to respond. You liked him once, that much is true, but you like Felix more. What you have with him.. You value it, deeply. 
It’s easy for a 14 year old to say they’re in love with their crush when they’ve never experienced what real, adult love feels like. There are times, even now, when you’re unsure of what the beating of your heart truly means, but there is one thing that you know for certain- you love Felix, much, much more sincerely than you ever loved Christopher. The difference between loving him, and being in love with him, make little difference in this case. 
Though, the more you’ve thought about it, the more you’ve come to think that maybe you are really, actually in love with him. You wouldn’t desire him if you didn’t, wouldn’t be up at night wondering what it would feel like to kiss him, or what kind of father he’d be to the children you’d one day have. You wouldn’t feel a void in your chest at the thought of no longer being by his side, even deeper than the one you’d felt upon moving away from home. 
And if there is anything your time reading romance novels has taught you, it’s that love is more than temporary butterflies and racing of the heart. Love is more than excitement, than desire, than the heat of his touch on your body; Love, real love, is the comfort you feel in his presence. The safety, the hours spent together talking or relaxing, even in the comfortable silence you share during a meal- that is love.  
When you can’t imagine your life without him in it, when even the mundane sounds fun as long as it’s with him, when you still feel warm and fuzzy in his presence even after the butterflies have passed, that is love. Now that you’ve come to know what life is like when Felix is next to you, holding you, sleeping with you, sharing his voice and his talents with you, you never want to know what the absence of him would feel like. All of that is to say, you think you’ve had your answer all along; You don’t just love Felix. You’re in love with Felix. 
“If I must tell you.. I do. I love Felix, truly. He’s a wonderful man,” you answer honestly, and Chris holds a deep frown. It must feel unfair- that’s how you felt about your circumstances at first. There’s no way for you to know how long he had feelings for you, but you were able to move on, while he clearly hadn’t. And truthfully, you feel sorry for him; none of this is his fault, but still.. You can’t change how you feel. 
“Surely you don’t mean that,” Chris says, a bit desperate, and again, your heart twists. You do mean it, unfortunately for him. And you have no intention of letting him think he has a chance to change your mind, when quite frankly, he doesn’t. Unbeknownst to you, Felix would glance your way whenever he was able to, always wanting to make sure you were handling yourself well.
It was your first solstice ball after all, and he imagined it could be overwhelming and tiring for you to mingle with so many people you had never met before. He just wanted to keep an eye on you, make sure you weren’t getting burnt out from the countless interactions with others. And that’s when he sees it- a man he doesn’t know, his hand lingering on your arm, and you, looking up at him with a troubled expression on your face. 
The look of discomfort you hold as the man continues to speak, hand still on you despite how you recoil.. He can’t help but clench his fists, a foreign sort of distaste bubbling within his veins. He can see your expression change as you speak- still uncomfortable, but not quite distressed. Sad, maybe? Perhaps this guy was being forward with you, and you were trying your best to look sympathetic as you gently turn him down. 
“If you’ll excuse me, there’s something I must attend to,” Felix says politely as he bows towards his father and his peers, not lingering to answer questions, though he really should if he doesn’t want to appear rude. He approaches you with haste, though still careful to not appear in too much of a hurry or frantic- he doesn’t want those around him to suspect something is amiss. The man’s hand is thankfully no longer on you, he realizes as he comes closer- it’d be terribly unbecoming of someone of his status to cause a scene.
“There you are, my love! I was looking everywhere for you,” Felix says with a smile as he approaches you, wrapping you in his arms as if the other man doesn’t exist at all. Your face reddens, heart picking up; my love, he called you my love! You’re aware this is likely only happening because he spotted you and was able to perceive how you felt, but still, your heart reacts to the words nonetheless. 
“Who’s this?” Felix asks as he turns his attention to the man in front of you, his hand resting on your waist in a motion that you’d easily be able to interpret as defensive, possessive. “O-Oh, uhm- this is Christopher. Do you remember what I told you, about how we grew up together due to our fathers being good friends? We ran into each other, and were just catching up,” you explain, and Chris, not wanting to make a fool of himself, easily goes along with your words. 
“Oh, how lovely. It's a pleasure to meet an old friend of yours,” Felix smiles jovially, extending a hand out to Chris. He accepts it, and the two politely shake hands, with Chris feeling a degree of shame and embarrassment. This definitely isn’t his finest hour; but maybe now that you’ve firmly rejected him, he can try to find happiness in his own life, love in his own marriage. 
“My deepest apologies for interrupting your reunion, but I thought it was time my wife and I shared a dance,” he says to Chris before looking back at you with a smile, and it’s so utterly charming that you practically feel your legs turn to jelly, “Shall we, my love?” God, your face must look so red right now. But after the few seconds it takes to finish processing, you gladly accept, offering a timid smile.
Felix bows politely to Chris before he leads you away by the waist, your heart still racing as you follow his lead. Away from the crowd of people, he stops and turns to you, the natural charisma he held melting away the moment your eyes meet. “Are you alright? I’m- I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all, I just..” You smile softly, and shake your head; I liked it, I want to hear you call me ‘my love’ again, I want you to keep wrapping your arms around me and holding me by the waist you want to say, but don't. Instead you carefully lean up, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you Felix.” 
His face grows red, his hand reaching up to his face, fingertips lingering over the spot you kissed him. He smiles cutely, shy and sweet, heart pounding even from something so small. He’s infatuated with you, after all, and any affection from you is enough to make his body react. “Why don't we really go have that dance?” you ask with a smile, holding your hand out for him to take. You shared a dance when you first married of course, as is customary, but this one would be different; as opposed to a dance between newlyweds with no love between them, now you could say you were dancing with the only man you’d ever sincerely loved.
“Of course, my love,” he replies as he takes your hand in his, leading you to the center of the ballroom floor, both of you bashfully smiling and giddy with affection for the other. You do your best to ignore the stares of others around you, most of them just eager to see the display of love from the newest royal couple in front of them, and keep your focus entirely on Felix. You can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger on his lips before he shifts his attention back to your eyes, his cheeks dusted a pretty shade of pink contrasted against his freckles. 
You really want him to kiss you, if you’re being honest, but you don’t think it’d be entirely wise to share your first kiss with the eyes of the entire ballroom on you. Maybe, if either of you can conjure your bravery later on, you can kiss in the privacy of your shared room, free to indulge in the feeling of each other for as long as you wish too. Though, perhaps you should stop thinking such thoughts for the moment, lest Felix realizes you’re blushing way too hard. For now, you'll just enjoy the moment you're sharing with him, knowing now, with all your heart, that your love for him is true.
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The remainder of your night continued without incident, sharing a few more dances with Felix before you separated again to continue mingling. You saw Christopher again briefly, where he apologized for his behavior and then brought you over to meet his wife. She really seemed like a sweet girl, and you hoped that Chris would be more open to the idea of loving her now that there were no “what-ifs” keeping him held back. She also seemed quite genuinely infatuated with him, which you couldn’t blame her for- Chris was strikingly handsome, and you might have still held similar feelings for him if it wasn’t for Felix. 
When the ball came to a close, you were eager to get back to your room and get your aching feet out of the heels you’d worn to match your gown, as well as get the heavy, dangly earrings off your ears. You insist that Felix bathe first, as it will take you quite some time to remove all your accessories, get your hair down from the way it was styled, and out of your intricate gown (not as intricate as your wedding gown, of course, but still enough that you wouldn’t be able to remove it swiftly.) 
He didn’t take all that long in the bath, spending just enough time to wash up and effectively dry off, entering your room after he’s changed into his sleep clothes. He respectfully keeps his eyes away from you until he’s sat comfortably away from where you are at the vanity, your dress off and left only in your undergarments. You were brushing out your hair, making sure it was completely tamed and smoothed down to make washing easier before you enter the bath. 
You take a quick glance at Felix before you enter the attached bath, his back turned to you as he nervously fiddles with his thumbs. You soak in the tub for some time, letting the hot water soothe you until it turns cooler, now comfortably warm as you take time washing your hair and body. Normally you wouldn’t take such a long time in the bath, but it was just so relaxing after the long day you’ve had, and you indulged in the comfort it offered you before you got out to dry off and slip on fresh clothes. 
You half expected for Felix to be in bed already, but when you step out you see that he was waiting up for you, sitting atop the blankets of your bed, back against the headboard. “Sorry I took so long, you didn’t have to wait for me,” you say as you step to your designated side of the bed, mirroring his position against the headboard. “Well, I didn’t want to go straight to bed without having some down time with you,” he explains a bit timidly, and you smile, finding him endlessly sweet. 
The light in the room is low, the only candles lit now being the ones closest to your bed. He sits up straighter, turning to you with a nervous disposition, and you watch him curiously, wondering what’s on his mind to make him look at you in such a way. “Listen, before we go to bed, I, uh- I actually have something for you,” Felix says, meeting your gaze timidly. 
“Really? What is it?” you ask, having not expected to receive anything so suddenly. Well, sudden to you, but Felix had actually been planning this for quite some time. He steadies his nerves and turns to his nightstand, opening the drawer and digging through it until he finds what he needs- a book. You recognize it instantly when it’s in front of you; it’s a new, almost pristine copy of the book you told him was your favorite, the one you insisted you didn’t need when you stopped to look at it the day you were out together. 
“When did you get this?” you ask in surprise, carefully taking it in your hands and ghosting your fingers over the cover. “The same night you saw it, I asked a guard to discreetly purchase it for you,” he explains with a soft, sheepish smile, hoping you’re pleased. “There’s something else,” he says, and you glance up at him in even further surprise. Gently, he takes the book from your hands, opening it to a specific page. 
“I.. before giving it to you, I wanted to read it, understand for myself why it's your favorite. So.. I did, and there’s a part that really resonates with me, and.. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to read it to you,” he explains, and your heart stirs, thumping wildly in your chest. How is he so considerate and perfect? You almost can’t believe it, and you don't even know how he found the time to read it without you knowing, but you can ask him about it later. For now, you're much more interested in the fact that he not only read your favorite novel, but wants to share a part he loved with you, a part that spoke to him, and wants you to listen to him read it in his beautiful, deep voice. 
He swallows, takes a breath, hands trembling a bit as he holds the book open and looks down at the page in front of him. You watch him with full attention, somehow feeling just as nervous; you don’t know what he intends to read, and as you yourself have read this story countless times, it’s hard to imagine which specific part he’d like the most- there were just so many possibilities and moments you loved to try and guess. But then he starts, and immediately, you feel your heart positively melt. 
"Taeryn stares at her, his fingertips ghosting her skin, his eyes transfixed in her stare, her gaze swallowing him whole. And he knows, as his fingers brush her hair softly out of her face, as her cheeks burn and breath hitches with his gentle touch, that he loves her. 
He loves her as naturally as he breathes air; to love her is effortless, as easy as it is to simply be. He loves her for as many reasons as there are stars in the sky- countless, never ending. She engulfs him, enraptures him, a moth unable to resist her bright, beckoning flame. 
And he knows, from the way every synapse in his brain fires when their lips meet, how his blood burns in his veins simply from her touch, that there is no greater feeling beyond this. To be lost in her is God's greatest gift, and he will thank Him for the rest of his days, because what else could compare to the pure bliss of loving with all that you are, and being loved in return?”
The words that you already found so beautiful sound even more so coming from him, and you can’t help but suck in a breath as you listen to him speak the words written on the page, as if he’s mirroring the character, feeling the very same emotion. He closes the book slowly, and your heart races when his eyes meet yours again. What should you say? It was beautiful? Thank you? That doesn’t feel like nearly enough to describe how you feel or how much you appreciate this gesture. 
Felix carefully sets the book to the side, his palms beginning to clam up as he looks at you. He planned this for a specific reason, but now that he’s met with the most critical moment of all, his mouth feels dry, and his chest tightens as his heart accelerates. He wants to tell you he loves you, and maybe he’s been reading the signs all wrong, but he thinks you love him too, he hopes you do. 
Maybe your affection for him doesn’t go past platonic, which he would learn to accept with time, but it would truly break his heart if you didn’t feel the same. So he hopes, he prays, with all his heart, that when he tells you how he feels, you’ll reciprocate. You can tell what he wants to say, even with your lack of romantic experience, it’s obvious; no one commits to a gesture so thoughtful and romantic without the intent to become something greater. Given your time reading romance, that’s something you feel confident enough to say- Felix loves you. And you love him too. 
So you meet him halfway, inching ever so slightly closer to him, looking him in the eyes as you do. His eyes dart from your eyes to your lips and then back again, his breath beginning to go uneven. Felix looks at you, eyes full of love, awe, and wonder, and not wasting another breath, he kisses you, his hands reaching to your face, holding it in his hands. It’s chaste and careful, your eyes remaining closed for several seconds after he’s pulled away, your body buzzing with elation. 
“I- I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but you looked so beautiful today and I-” he swallows, nervous to continue, but pushing through it the best he could, “I wanted to tell you, wanted to kiss you, and I.. love you.” It feels as if a million butterflies are in your stomach, light and erratic in their movement, their excitement unable to be contained. “I love you too,” you admit, breathy and soft, inching a bit closer, and he does the same, until your bodies are only centimeters apart. “Is it okay to.. I want to kiss you again,” he asks, desperately awaiting your approval. You grant him it easily, and his lips are on you again within seconds. 
One of his hands remains on your face, cupping it gently, while the other moves to your waist, arm wrapping around carefully, keeping you close. The foreign feelings you’d never experienced that were in all the literature you read- you feel them now, intense and overwhelming, your senses knowing nothing other than Felix. What is it that novels usually compare it to? Sparks flying? This was beyond simple sparks- it was like fireworks, bright, beautiful, bursting in your blood and filling you with warmth. 
The kisses you share are slow, measured and careful, and you never separate for long, your lips always finding each other again within seconds. Felix is breathless when he finally pulls away for longer than a few seconds, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes looking straight into yours, countless emotions swimming in them. “I want.. can I be honest?” he asks and you swallow, whispering a soft ‘yes’ that you hope doesn't sound too nervous. 
“I.. want you, really, really badly but.. truth be told, I'm nervous,” he expresses sincerely, his cheeks growing a deep shade of pink, traveling all the way up to the tips of his ears. Your face, already flushed from kissing, grows impossibly hotter from his admission. He wants you.. Like wants you, wants you? You want him too, having spent multiple sleepless nights wondering what it would be like to have each other, body and soul. 
“It's alright, I am too,” you tell him honestly. “Are you?” he can't help but ask; not because he doubts you, but rather wanting the affirmation that he isn't the only one with a heart racing out of control. You nod, seeking out his hand and intertwining your fingers. “I am. But I want you too.” God, he almost feels light headed; he can't believe the moment he's secretly dreamed of countless times is actually happening. His face is hot, his blood burns, his heart thumps loudly in his chest, and you want him, you want him, you want him. He takes a breath, does his best to steel his nerves before he speaks again, “We'll go slow, so please tell me if it becomes too much.”
You nod, giving his hand a squeeze, meant to convey that you understand and will do as he requested if you begin to feel overwhelmed. “I love you,” Felix whispers against your lips before he captures them in another kiss, needier this time, more urgent and impassioned. You can't help but let out a noise of surprise at first, but you easily melt into the kiss, eyes closing as you meet his passion with fervor of your own. 
His kisses are slow, just as before, but they feel more purposeful, sensual, and when you feel his tongue against your lips, begging to be let in, you easily oblige the request, opening your mouth for him and allowing his tongue to run across yours. Your stomach flips, the feeling of his tongue curiously exploring and rubbing around yours making you dizzy; you never knew kissing could feel this good.
It's so intimate to share your breath with someone, and you feel your body react in ways entirely new, but pleasant. You spend several minutes just like this; kissing over and over, letting his tongue draw circles around yours, only pulling away when one of you desperately needs a breath. 
“Can I touch you?” Felix asks once he's pulled away again, and the question, along with the deep, breathy baritone of his voice, makes a shiver run down your spine as butterflies once again flutter in your stomach. “Yes,” you breathe, perhaps sounding a bit more eager than you would've wished, but really, you shouldn't feel embarrassed when he wants you just as bad as you want him. 
Again, his lips are on you, but this time he allows his hands to carefully roam your body, gentle and slow in their exploration. Even though he's simply touching you over your clothes, you react to his touch as if bare, whimpering into his mouth when he palms your breasts with both hands and gently squeezes. 
It's easy for his thumbs to find your hardened nipples through the fabric of your nightgown, and again you let a soft sound of pleasure pass your lips. Felix pulls away to look at you, flushed, breathless, and so, so pretty; he's never felt more blessed in his entire life than he does right now. He watches you bite your lip when his thumbs pass over your nipples again, doing your best to suppress what you perceive to be an embarrassing noise. 
“Is it alright if I take this off you?” he asks, stilling the movement of his hands as he waits for your answer. “O-Only if you take your clothes off too,” you answer shyly, and he smiles timidly, finding your request more than fair. “Of course, my love. Whatever you want.” Felix stands from the bed, slowly pulling his sleep shirt up and over his head, likely feeling that you'll be more comfortable if he's the one who's exposed first. And God, you can't believe the physique he'd been hiding underneath all this time; his lean body much more toned than you could've even imagined. 
He feels shy under your attentive gaze, but he continues nonetheless, taking the waistband of his pants into his fingers and pulling them down his legs. His erection, of course, doesn't go unnoticed by you, and you can't help but stare at the obvious tent it creates in his underwear. You've never seen one before, and you're infinitely curious what his looks like, but there's no need to rush to find out; you have all night together. 
Swallowing down the shyness your stare makes him feel, he returns to the bed, sitting directly in front of you. You start to lift up your gown, but he stops you, replacing your hands with his own- after all, he asked if he could be the one to take it off you. You allow him to lift it up to your shoulders before you help him take it all the way off, paying no mind to where on the floor it lands once it has been tossed aside. 
The shy part of you makes you want to cover your breasts and avoid his gaze, but the other part can't help but indulge in the mesmerized twinkle held in Felix’s eyes. “So beautiful,” you hear him say under his breath, his hands now making contact with your skin without a barrier. You look down, taking in the sight of his hands holding and squeezing your breasts. 
Your body shudders when his thumbs once again rub over you nipples, and he loves watching the way your face changes, how your brows furrow and you bite your lip, the way you gasp when he takes your nipples between his fingers, how your eyes close and head falls back when he carefully rubs and pinches them. 
He kisses you when you lift your head again, but he doesn't linger there for nearly as long as before; instead, he begins to trail kisses down your jaw, to your neck. The kisses make you shiver, and you tilt your head to the side, allowing him easier access to your heated skin. He carefully guides you back as he kisses all over your skin, so that you fall back against the bed, head not quite making it to the pillows, but you don’t particularly care.
He takes his time, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your neck, his slow descent to your collarbone and the top of your chest nearly driving you crazy with want. Your breath hitches when he kisses one of your nipples before letting his tongue come out to lick it, lips closing gently around it.
He gives your other nipple equal attention once he's satisfied with his stimulation of the first one he devoted his attention to, and then slowly trails kisses down your body, below your ribs and over your stomach. You feel almost delirious with anticipation, and you half wonder if he's only going slow to drive you crazy (he isn't, of course, but you're becoming much too needy to recognize that.)
Felix caresses your legs, placing kisses over your thighs, as well as just over your panties. There's an obvious wet spot, which you can't help but feel embarrassed by once you've seen that he's noticed. You can't help it- this is easily the most aroused you've been in your entire life. “Want me to take them off?” he asks, and you nod eagerly, covering your face in embarrassment when he chuckles at you. 
“You're so cute when you're shy,” he says, and you let out a whine; why does he have to say it with such a sinfully attractive voice? Your reactions boost his confidence, helping to alleviate some of the nerves he'd felt when you first began. And you really are so, so cute right now; it simultaneously further endears him to you and makes his cock throb. 
“I'm going to take them off now,” he warns since you aren't looking at him, and he wants you to be completely aware of what actions he takes. You peek through your fingers, nervously anticipating what his reaction to your exposed sex will be. He slowly pulls your underwear down your legs, and you take a deep breath before you part your legs for him to see you fully. 
Fuck, you're perfect. There is nothing in the world that could've prepared him for the sight of your glistening heat. He swallows and licks his lips, looking back at you before taking any further action. “Do you need to stop?” he asks, not wanting to push you too far if you aren't ready for this. Truthfully, you are overwhelmed- but in the best way possible, and you definitely don't want to stop here. 
“No, want more,” you admit, trying your best not to stutter or mumble so he hears you clearly. “Tell me if you change your mind?” he says, more like a question than a statement, and you nod, assuring him you will if you feel the need to. He lowers himself so his head is between your legs, and the sight of him there alone is positively dizzying. 
You hear him comment under his breath about how wet you are as his fingers rub through your folds, which does no favors for your racing heart. He then carefully spreads you apart with two fingers, and again, you see him swallow and lick his lips. Fuck, he has to taste you, needs to find out if you're just as sweet as he imagines you to be. 
Everything is so new to both of you, and Felix doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing, but instinct drives him forward. You gasp and shudder when his tongue makes contact with your dripping heat, slowly but greedily licking up all you offer him. When his tongue finds your clit (a pleasant accident on Felix’s part given his unfamiliarity with the female body), the pleasured noise that involuntarily escapes you tells him he should focus his attention there. 
“Feels good?” he asks before he licks again; he’s sure he knows the answer, but he still wants to hear you say it anyways. You nod quickly, another embarrassingly loud moan leaving your lips when his tongue swirls around your most sensitive spot. You’ve pleasured yourself before, in private moments with your own fingers, but nothing, absolutely nothing, compares to how Felix’s tongue feels. 
His lips wrap around your clit, as if kissing it, his tongue alternating between long, flat licks, quick flicks, and swirling around it, and you’re positively seeing stars, eyes rolling back as your head falls back against the mattress. You cover your mouth with your hand, your other hand desperately clutching at the sheets beneath you, legs trembling and thighs unconsciously closing around Felix’s head. 
You feel it, the familiar heat pooling deep in your stomach, your muffled moans quickly turning to desperate whines and whimpers as he drives you closer and closer to sweet release. You can tell however, that your orgasm will be much more intense than any you had ever given yourself, and it scares and excites you in equal measure. But fuck, even muffled, your noises sound so unbelievably sweet in his hears, and he wants to hear them louder, clearer. 
“Take your hand away, my love, I want to hear you,” he separates from your heat long enough to tell you, and you whine, this time in embarrassment, as you lift your head up to look at him. A mistake, in hindsight- the sight you’re met with being more erotic than your heart can handle. His mouth and chin glisten with your juices, the sweat lingering on his brow making his hair stick to his forehead in a way that makes your heart want to give out- he’s just so.. alluring.
“But, the guards,” you try, and he shakes his head, not at all deterred by the fact that they stand outside your bedroom doors. “Don’t care,” he says simply, and you can tell he’s completely serious. There aren’t many things Felix is selfish about in his life, but this, you- he’ll be as selfish as he pleases. “They’re just for me, right? So I don’t care if they hear them, because you’re mine, and they know that too. So please, let me hear you.” 
Oh, wow. How can you deny him after hearing that? With a shy nod, you agree to not cover your mouth anymore, and he smiles, pleased with your response, and quickly gets back to work between your legs. It’s insane how quickly your release builds back up, as if there was never a pause to begin with, and a curse leaves you between your loud, whiny moans and whimpers. Felix has never heard you curse before, but he has to admit he likes how it sounds coming from you, and knowing he has caused you to become debauched enough to do so without being conscious of it. 
Before you know it, you’re seeing white, releasing all over his face as your body jolts and trembles, back arching from the bed as he continues to stimulate you through it. You eventually whine and push his head away from you, becoming overstimulated from all the attention his tongue continued to give you after your orgasm. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he moves up your body, connecting his lips with yours again, and the taste of yourself lingering on him and his tongue makes your head spin. 
Your hands reach for his underwear, trying to pull down the fabric and spring his cock free; it’s a much more forward and desperate act than you ever imagined yourself doing, but you’re so hungry for him that you can no longer think about being demure. You just want him, more than you’ve ever wanted anything in all your years on this earth. Felix takes the hint, not that it’s even subtle enough to be a ‘hint,’ and makes quick work of taking off his underwear. 
The sight of his cock leaves you speechless, breathless; do they all look so simultaneously hot and pretty, or is it just because it belongs to Felix? “Can I..?” you ask, not entirely sure what you’re asking to do- you just know you want to make him feel as good as he made you feel. God, yes, please, Felix thinks, but he just nods with a slightly shy smile, shifting his weight off you and laying on his side next to you. 
You lay on your side as well, pressing a kiss to his lips as your hand reaches for his cock, fingers curiously running along his length, feeling every vein and ridge. Felix releases a shuddery breath against your mouth, your fingers feeling so different from his own, small and soft, but so, so good. Your touch is intoxicating, and his body jolts when you rub your thumb over the tip, spreading his pre-cum all over it. 
A soft groan escapes him when you enclose your fingers around his length, fingers not quite able to wrap completely around and meet your thumb, but it’s more than enough to have Felix feeling good when you start slowly moving your fist up to the tip and then back down. Eventually, as your fingers spread more and more of his pre-cum, his length becomes slick, and it becomes easier for you to pick up your pace, swallowing all the low groans he emits with your mouth.
But you can’t help but think- it felt so good when Felix used his tongue on you, so wouldn’t the same be true for him? Isn’t it worth trying? He opens his eyes when you take your hand away, watching curiously and with bated breath as you gently push him back by the shoulder, having him lay flat on his back as you move to lie comfortably against his legs, his cock a mere inches away from your face. 
He lifts himself up to watch you, supporting his weight with his forearms, breath quickening as you take him in your hand again, sticking your tongue out to curiously lick the tip. The taste of his pre-cum is unlike anything you’ve ever had, and while you don’t think there is anything you could compare it to, it’s not unpleasant. You look up at Felix through your lashes, and God, the sight of you, so pretty and perfect, with his cock in your hand and tongue licking away at him, is enough to drive him crazy. 
Would he fit inside your mouth? How good would it make him feel? Driven by curiosity and desire, you open your mouth, your tongue caressing the underside of his cock as you start to sink your head down on him, and the shaky, breathy groan he lets out in response makes your heart skip a beat and core throb. You keep your eyes on him, watching as his head falls back, his adam’s apple bob up and down, the way his stomach contracts the more you pleasure him. 
The sounds that escape him encourage you to keep trying your best to take more of him in your mouth, retreating just a bit when you’ve taken enough of him to cause yourself to gag. Felix has to make a conscious effort to not buck his hips up and drive himself further down your throat, lest he hurt you or make you gag again, but fuck, it feels unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He knows for a fact he’s going to cum if he lets you keep going much longer, and so, with a shaky breath, he asks you to stop.
You pull off of him the moment he asks, looking at him curiously; you knew he was feeling good, so why did he want you to stop? He sits up completely, capturing your lips in a kiss lest you worry about how well you did for him; you were perfect, you’ll always be perfect, and even if he’s at times too shy to convey that with words, he’ll make sure you know with his actions. “I want to be inside you,” he tells you, lips still close enough to yours to easily kiss you again, to feel your breath against your skin, “do you want that too? Do you want me?” 
God, yes, you want him so fucking bad. Are you nervous? Of course you are, you’ve never been so intimate with someone before, but there’s no one in this world you would rather give yourself to than Felix. You want to be connected to him, physically, mentally, in all ways conceivable. He’s the one for you, the love of your life, the most perfect man you’d ever known, so there’s not a single doubt in your mind, or your heart, that he’s the one you want to do this with, and that you want to do it now.
“Yes,” you kiss him, “I want you,” another kiss, “so bad,” and another. He’s elated to hear you say it, his relief and joy going beyond words. He would’ve waited for you, of course he would’ve, but he can’t deny how much he craves being inside you, making love to you, pouring all his love and affection into you. He loves you so, so much, and it’s reflected even in his most carnal of desires. It’s more than sex, it’s more than simply wanting to feel good; to be with you intimately is the greatest display of love you could ever share.
He lies you down carefully, making sure your head actually makes it to the pillows this time, and he situates himself between your legs, hands rubbing over your hips and thighs as he leaves another lingering kiss to your reddened lips. His hand comes between your legs, and he finds your hole with his fingers, wanting to make sure he knew where to aim his cock. You’re still so wet and warm, and the fact that he’s this close to being inside you feels like a blissful dream. 
Taking his cock in his hand and lining it up, he looks at you, wanting to make sure one last time that you want him to keep going. “Are you ready?” he asks and you nod, completely, 100% positive you want him inside you. “Yes, I'm ready, please put it in,” you practically beg, and that’s all Felix needs to hear to continue. He starts to push in slowly, watching your face carefully for any discomfort or pain, stopping when he hears you let out a small hiss. 
“Are you okay? Do you need to stop?” Felix asks, using all of his self control to make sure he takes good care of you, and makes your first times as comfortable as possible. “I-I’m okay, just keep going slow,” you tell him and he nods, seeking out one of your hands and intertwining your fingers. “Squeeze if you need to, okay? I won’t do anything to hurt you, my love, tell me to stop and I will.” You smile, already knowing he’d do his utmost best to make you feel safe, loved, and comfortable. 
It stings a bit, but it doesn’t necessarily hurt- and Felix’s soothing words, touch, and kisses do wonders in lessening the discomfort you initially felt. Felix clenches his teeth once he’s fully sheathed inside your heat, your warm, wet walls tightly enveloping him making him almost overwhelmed from how good it feels. He thought your mouth was amazing, but this- God, it’s better than anything he could’ve ever imagined. 
You can see how much effort he’s pouring into staying still until you're ready for him to move- clenched jaw, furrowed brows, sweat dripping from his brow from concentration. Contrary to what he expected, he’s the one squeezing your hand, trying desperately to ground himself and not lose control of his body, to succumb to his senses. He’s breathing heavily, forehead once again pressing against yours, but you don’t mind in the slightest. 
You love how close he is, how full of him you feel, how the sting and discomfort slowly dissolves away, leaving nothing but the desire to feel him move inside you. “You can move, I’m ready,” you whisper, and carefully, slowly, he pulls out to the tip before pressing back in one gentle, fluid motion. “It’s okay? Doesn’t hurt?” he asks and you shake your head, timidly smiling at him. “Feels good, keep going,” you tell him, and he easily obliges, wanting nothing more than to lose himself in the feeling of you.
He can’t help but groan, even with the slow pace he’s setting he just feels so good, and the way you look up at him doesn’t do him any favors. Your pretty eyes, your flushed face, the way your hair has messily fallen around you, the way you clench with every sound that tumbles from his lips, letting him know how much you like hearing him- everything, literally everything about you, about this moment, is a blessing to him. 
You wrap your legs around his waist, causing him to push in deeper, and his eyes roll back, head falling forward into your shoulder as another groan leaves him. He gradually starts to pick up his pace, always making sure you’re comfortable and enjoying it before he goes faster, experimenting with angles to find what feels best for you, because everything is already good for him. 
He knows he’s found the right angle when you let out a loud gasp, followed by a moan when he thrusts again, and again, your hand tightly squeezing his, though he knows it’s purely because of the pleasure, and not at all because he’s hurting you or you need him to stop. You curse under your breath again, your nails starting to dig into the flesh under his knuckles, your other hand clutching once again at the sheets beneath you. 
“Feels good? Tell me, tell me it feels good,” Felix practically begs in your ear, his deep voice growing higher in pitch as he drives himself closer to release, his groans turning into desperate sounding whines. “So good, fuck, love you so much, feels so good,” you babble, and Felix whines louder, hips stuttering as he continues fucking into you. He intended for this moment to be sweet and sensual until the end, but he really didn’t anticipate how your walls around his cock would drain him of his composure. 
You don’t seem to mind in the slightest however- in fact, you seem to be enjoying the moment just as much as him, your legs starting to tremble as your second orgasm looms closer and your moans and whines grow in volume. He crashes his lips into yours, your kisses turning much less romantic than before, having devolved into a messy, desperate display of tongue and teeth. It’s a different sort of display of passion, but it is passion all the same, and you couldn’t ask for anything better than this; Felix is perfect in everything he does, and this is no exception. 
You can feel his cock twitching and throbbing, and you know he must be close; so you keep your legs tightly wrapped around him, making sure that when his cum shoots inside you, it’ll be as deep as it can get. Feeling close yourself, and wanting to cum with him, you bring your free hand to your clit, rubbing it in the quick circles you know feels best for you. Within seconds, you’re cumming around his cock, and the way you squeeze and clench around him is enough to send him straight into his, his cum shooting out in long spurts, filling you to the brim. 
You’re both breathless, hearts racing and bodies hot, and after collecting his breath, Felix kisses you again, not messy or desperate as just moment priors, but full of love, truly the happiest he has ever been. He doesn’t pull out of you until he feels himself start to soften, and he mutters for you to wait there for a moment and stay still as he rushes to the attached bathroom for a tissue to clean you up.
You wince a little, a bit tender and sensitive from all the attention you received, but Felix is gentle and careful, as he is with everything when it comes to you. When he’s done, you make your way under the blankets, shifting over to your side of the bed, waiting for him to blow out the candles and settle in next to you. Should you both get dressed? Maybe, but neither of you particularly want to- there’s something special and intimate in staying just as you are now, bare in each other's arms. 
He holds you close, as he always does, kissing the top of your head, and smiling when you look up at him from where your head lies against his chest. “I love you so much,” he tells you and you smile too, pecking him on the lips and hugging him tight. “I love you too,” you whisper as you close your eyes, exhaustion quickly settling over you. You never imagined how happy you would one day become the day you became Felix’s wife, and now you know that it was actually a blessing in disguise, something you didn’t know you needed. 
From the moment he first saw you, Felix knew you were the one, instantly enamored with you. He hoped with all his heart his marriage was one he could be happy in, that his wife would be someone he could truly love, and you answered his prayers from the very moment you entered his life. He doesn’t want to say it was love at first sight, but somehow, he just knew- you were perfect, the one he was destined to be with and love with all his heart, his soulmate. 
It sounds like a cliche he’d find in one of your romance novels, but it’s genuinely how he feels. No one in this world would ever compare to you, and he’d forever be grateful to his parents, your parents, and even God himself, for putting you on this earth at the same time as him, and allowing you to be his wife. He wishes he had words stronger than “I love you,” or that he knew how to articulate himself in a way that would explain the depths of how he feels, but he supposes those simple words will have to do. He loves you, and there has never been anything he's been more certain of than that. 
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alexis-vaughn · 2 years
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emjayewrites · 22 days
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Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton Fanfic)(5/?)
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SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?
INSPO: this post
PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)
WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)
TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @galatially @pausmoon @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @sirlew44 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @weetjy @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @mitruscity @burberryfilms @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @pharaohanubis0 @certifiedlesbianbaddie @blveeeeeee @sugardontbesweet @omgsuperstarg @bluesole16 @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @royallyprincesslilly @jasmindaughteroftheworld @laptiteantillaise @motheroffae @hrlzy
A/N: Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore
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CHAPTER 5: Ups & Downs
Summer break came to a bittersweet end and they were soon gearing up to return to the thrill of racing once more. Everyone had an amazing time exploring Turkey as well as spending some quality time with family in Colorado. With the Dutch Grand Prix just around the corner, anticipation hung heavy in the air as fans eagerly awaited the pulse-pounding action that was sure to unfold on the historic circuit of Zandvoort.
Meanwhile, the news of Lewis signing on for another year at Mercedes sent ripples through the racing world. His decision was met with both celebration and anticipation, as fans eagerly awaited another season of thrilling races and nail-biting finishes. With his focus now shifting back to racing, Lewis immersed himself in rigorous training sessions, honing his skills and pushing himself to new limits. He left a few days before Rorie and Lyric, anxiously wanting to test drive the updated car prior to the race.
The bustling streets of Amsterdam buzzed with excitement as Rorie drove to the quaint town near the racetrack, eager to soak in the vibrant atmosphere that surrounded the Grand Prix weekend. The winding roads leading up to Zandvoort were adorned with colorful banners and flags, a vivid display of national pride as fans from all corners of the world gathered to witness the adrenaline-fueled spectacle.
Rorie made her way through the crowded paddock, she couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity and comfort. She had become accustomed to the hustle and bustle of race weekends, the constant adrenaline rush and the intense competition that filled the air. But this time, things were different.
As usual, she was there supporting her man, yet this time, as with all the other races, her presence was no longer unnoticed or overlooked. The media had taken an interest in their relationship, and Rorie was now under constant scrutiny from paparazzi and fans alike. She could no longer walk around the circuit incognito like she used to and was now photographed just like the other team members' spouses and girlfriends. All eyes were on her wherever she went.
The chaos and clamor that followed her everywhere had magically dissipated for once. It was a refreshing change from the incessant screaming and pushing that usually surrounded her - perhaps the fans and media finally understood the importance of privacy, especially now since she had Lyric with her.
They still continued to take photos however, but maintained a respectful distance nonetheless. The warm scent of fresh stroopwafels wafted through the air, adding to the joyful atmosphere of the moment.
“Ooh, do you want a treat, sweetheart?” she asked her toddler, pausing for a quick second to lift up the canopy. No surprise, he was asleep. “Alrighty then, a treat for Mommy,” Rorie laughed to herself as she continued on her way, pushing the stroller towards the stroopwafel station.
As she stood in line for some warm stroopwafels, Rorie’s mind drifted off to her journey to motherhood and the difficulty of getting pregnant. And now, she and Lewis were thinking about having another, which scared her a bit, making her worry if she would have to go through the same hoops as she did in order to get pregnant with their son.
Rorie was deep in thought when a pack of enthusiastic fans noticed her and excitedly approached her.
"Oh my gosh, you’re Lewis’ wife, right?" one fan exclaimed, causing others in the line to turn and stare at her.
Rorie nodded. “That’s me. How are you all doing?"
"I knew it was you!" another fan interjected, nudging her friend. “I told you, Ella!”
The first fan, Ella, looked down at the stroller. "Did you bring Baby LH with you? Can we see them?"
Rorie felt a small frown forming on her face. Her baby was more than just a prop, but these girls couldn't be much older than fifteen so she let it slide. "Baby LH is sleeping at the moment, ladies. But we can take a picture or I can treat you to some stroopwafels. Your call."
They looked at each other before agreeing on a group selfie.
Rorie smiled warmly as they gathered around her for the photo. After a few minutes and deciding that the photos were satisfactory for their teenage standards, the girls thanked her and went on their way.
Pushing the stroller with one hand while holding a steaming stroopwafel in the other, Rorie made her way towards the Mercedes hospitality motorhome where she was greeted by familiar faces – Toto Wolff, his wife Susie, and their son, Jack.
“Surprised to see you here. How are you, Rorie?” asked Toto.
“Hi, Rorie,” Susie smiled, giving her a hug.
“Hi Toto, Susie," Rorie said with a smile, returning her warm embrace. She then turned to Jack who was busy playing with his toy cars on the floor. "And how's my favorite little racer doing?"
Jack looked up and grinned when he saw Rorie. "Hi Auntie Rorie!"
Rorie chuckled and ruffled his hair affectionately. "You're getting bigger every time I see you."
“Jack was just asking about his buddy Lyric," Susie stated with a grin.
“Yeah, Lewis said that he can walk now, so we can go on the scooter together,” responded Jack with a bright smile.
"Well, here he is," Rorie said, lifting up the canopy to reveal Lyric who was still sound asleep. "But we might have to wait for him to wake up before he can play and I don’t think Lyric is big enough yet to ride the scooter.”
She settled into one of the plush couches in the motorhome, enjoying her stroopwafel and a cup of hot coffee as she caught up with Toto and Susie. They chatted about their families and upcoming races.
Lyric let out a cry as he stirred awake and flashed a smile at Rorie when he saw his mother.
"Hey there little man," Rorie cooed as she picked him up, planting a kiss on his chubby cheek. "Did you have a nice nap?”
Lyric gurgled happily in Rorie's arms as she sat back down on the couch. Toto and Susie couldn't help but smile at the sight of Rorie with her baby.
"He's gotten so big, it feels like just yesterday he was born," remarked Susie.
Rorie beamed with pride. "He's growing up so quickly. And he's such a happy baby, but he's always trying to get his little hands on everything."
Sure enough, Lyric reached out for the rest of Rorie’s stroopwafel
"Uh-uh little man," she said playfully, moving the treat out of his reach. "You're not quite ready for that yet."
Lyric cried out in protest. “No!”
Toto chuckled. "Looks like Lyric inherited his father's sweet tooth."
"Unfortunately, yes," Rorie laughed uneasily as she tried to placate her whining son. He wriggled in her arms, so she decided to put him down on the floor and give him a snack from her diaper bag. "Just one though, okay?"
Lyric replied with a defiant "No!" before grabbing the treat and toddling over to Jack.
"So sassy but so cute," Rorie commented bemusedly at the whole situation. “He also gets that from his father.”
"What about me?" Lewis asked as he entered the motorhome. He had just finished a meeting with his engineers, and seeing his family was a welcome sight. "Hey beautiful," Lewis greeted Rorie with a kiss on the lips before turning to Lyric with a big grin. "And hello my little man!"
Lyric giggled in response as Lewis tickled his stomach lightly.
We were just talking about how much Lyric takes after you with his sweet tooth and sassy attitude.”
Lewis chuckled. “Well, I can’t deny that, he’s my son through and through.”
“He definitely has your charm,” Toto added with a grin.
Lyric reached out for his father, wanting to be held. Lewis happily obliged, scooping him up and settling him on his hip.
“So, what have you guys been up to?” Lewis asked as he took a seat next to Rorie on the couch.
“We were just catching up and having some stroopwafels,” Susie answered, offering Lewis one from the bag she had brought.
“Thanks, Susie,” Lewis said gratefully as he took the treat. “Jack and Lyric getting along well?”
“They are inseparable when they’re together,” Rorie replied with a smile. “It’s so cute seeing them together.”
“Jack is learning a lot from you, Lewis,” Toto commented, proud of his son and the relationship he had with his hero.
Lewis shrugged modestly. “I just try to be a good role model for him.”
“Well, it’s working because Jack wants to be just like you when he grows up,” Susie said sincerely.
Lewis grinned from ear to ear. “That means a lot coming from you guys.”
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The sound of engines revving in the distance became more pronounced as the afternoon steadily wore on, signaling the start of the Dutch Grand Prix. The paddock was bustling with activity as everyone prepared for the big race.
As the minutes ticked down before lights out, Lewis got dressed in his racing suit. He double-checked all his gear, making sure everything was in its proper place as he mentally prepared himself for the intense race ahead.
Lyric, who was comfortably nestled in his father's arms, looked up at Lewis with adoration shining in his eyes.
"Ready to see daddy in action, little man?" Lewis asked with a smile as he bounced his son gently inside the team’s garage. It was a tradition for Lewis to spend a few minutes with Lyric before every race. It helped him relax and take his mind off the pressure of competing.
Lyric let out a happy squeal in response, causing some of the mechanics to chuckle at the adorable scene between father and son.
"Looks like you have your biggest fan right here," Bono commented with a grin as he watched Lyric playfully tug on one of Lewis's braids.
“I believe I do,” Lewis smiled proudly at Lyric before turning back to get into race mode. He placed an AirPod in his left ear, turning his music on the highest setting possible then hit shuffle on his Race Weekend playlist. Bopping his head to the music, Lewis paced around the garage with Lyric perched on his hip, trying desperately to not make eye contact with the various cameras that surrounded them.
Between the usual F1 media and the camera crew from Netflix, the garage was somewhat filled today; a bit too much for his personal liking, yet fortunately, all of the cameras kept a comforting distance. Though Lewis had an inkling of pride of having footage of these moments with his son during race weekend, Rorie still remained a tad apprehensive with having Lyric in the spotlight.
Silverstone Grand Prix changed their original plan of privacy a little, with some grainy pictures of their son’s face appearing on the internet, thus they had to compromise – allowing pictures and videos to be taken, within reason of course, by various media outlets during races.
The sound of engines revving outside grew louder and more intense as the cars began to line up on the grid.
"I have to go now, little man," Lewis said regretfully as he handed Lyric back to Rorie so she could take him out of the garage before it got too noisy and chaotic.
Rorie gave her husband a kiss on the lips before leaving with Lyric to watch the race inside the paddock club.
Lewis took one last deep breath and focused on the task at hand - winning another Grand Prix, which was proving to be difficult due to the awful car they had this season. After this year, he never wanted to see this model ever again. Between the unpredictability and imbalances, Lewis was beyond the point of being frustrated and his focus was just making it through the remainder of the races.
Nevertheless, the show must go on.
He removed his AirPod and placed it in the designated case then handed his electronics off to Bono for safekeeping. After that, he put on the halo and his helmet. Climbing into his car, Lewis stood on the seat to adjust himself before eventually settling down. With a thumbs up for final confirmation to his team, he drove the car from the garage and onto the grid.
Lewis’ breaths came out in labored pants as he awaited for the familiar sound of "lights out".
When the signal echoed through the circuit and the adrenaline rush kicked in, Lewis's heart raced as he revved his engine, pushing onto the gas pedal at full throttle. The cars ahead of him began to move faster as they approached the first turn, and Lewis followed suit, leaning into the turn as he maneuvered the vehicle with expertise.
His car sliced through the corners, his focus unwavering amidst the chaotic ballet of speed and skill, and Lewis felt a surge of determination course through his veins with each overtake and lap.
Meanwhile, in the luxury of the paddock club, Rorie stood front and center of the large television, her heart pounding in sync with the roar of the engines below. She cradled Lyric in her arms as the toddler rested peacefully on her shoulder, watching with bated breath as Lewis navigated the twists and turns of the circuit with unmatched precision.
"Come on, baby,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the thunderous noise of the venue. "You've got this, baby.”
Pride and adoration shone in her eyes as she witnessed her husband's mastery on display, a testament to his unwavering passion and commitment to his craft as he overtook one driver after another, somehow managing to go from P13 to P6.
“Come on, get this fuckin’ podium, baby,” she cheered, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The entire ordeal was edging to the max and Rorie couldn't shake the gnawing sense of apprehension that lingered in the back of her mind. With every daring maneuver Lewis executed, she felt a pang of fear tighten around her heart, a reminder of the inherent risks that came with his chosen profession.
Yet, even amidst her worries, she couldn't deny the undeniable thrill that pulsed through her veins, mingling with the electric atmosphere of the paddock club.
"Go, Lewis, go!" she cheered, her voice rising slightly above the din of the crowd. In that moment, as she held their son close and watched her husband chase his dreams on the track, Rorie knew that they were exactly where they were meant to be—bound together by love, courage, and the unbreakable spirit of a racing family. And when he finally reached the checkered flag, three places below a podium, Rorie rooted for him just the same as she would if he won the Grand Prix.
However, a nearby Verstappen fan couldn't resist chiming in. "Why cheer for him? He didn't win," he remarked snidely, pointing to Max Verstappen's victory.
Rorie turned to the fan, a hint of sass in her voice and a smirk playing on her lips as her eyes slowly scanned the disheveled-looking man. "Oh honey," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm, "you do not know who you’re starting with. Talk to me again when Max becomes the face of F1. And besides," she added with a mischievous glint in her eye, "who needs a first-place finish when you’re the fuckin’ GOAT?”
With a flick of her hair, she turned away from the fan, her unwavering support for her husband shining brighter than ever as she sashayed out of the paddock club to parc ferme. After waiting for ten or so minutes, Lewis appeared, making a beeline to a waiting journalist for his post-race interview, his mind still buzzing from the intensity of the race. As he approached, the journalist greeted him with a smile, ready to delve into the events of the day.
"Hey Lewis, tough race out there," the journalist began, holding out the microphone.
"Yeah, it was a challenging one for sure," Lewis replied, his voice tinged with exhaustion as he wiped his face with a towel.
"Let's talk about those last few laps. You were making some incredible moves out there, starting from P13 and finding your way to P6. What was going through your mind?"
Lewis paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before responding. "Honestly, I was just trying to stay focused and push as hard as I could. Every position counts, especially on a track like this."
Before the journalist could ask another question, a small voice interrupted from behind them. "Dada!"
Turning around, Lewis's face broke into a grin as he spotted his son, Lyric, grinning at him from his mother’s arms not too far away.
“Dada! Hi!” the toddler said with a happy wave.
"Hey there, little man," Lewis chuckled. "Sorry about that," he said, turning back to the journalist. "Looks like someone wanted to say hi."
The journalist couldn't help but smile at the heartwarming scene unfolding before him. "No worries at all," he replied, his tone softening. "That was actually quite adorable. How does it feel to have your son cheering you on, even after a challenging race like today?"
Lewis's eyes softened as he looked at Lyric, his heart swelling with pride. "It means everything," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "No matter how tough things get on the track, knowing that I have my family supporting me every step of the way gives me the strength to keep pushing forward. I couldn't ask for anything more."
The journalist nodded, touched by Lewis's heartfelt words. "Well, it's clear that you have an incredible support system behind you. And speaking of support, your fans have been rallying behind you all season. What would you like to say to them after today's race?"
"To all my fans out there," Lewis began, his voice carrying a note of appreciation, "thank you for sticking by me through thick and thin. Your unwavering support means the world to me, and I promise to keep fighting for you every time I step onto the track. Today might not have been our day, but with your continued support, I know that we'll bounce back stronger than ever. So, thank you, from the bottom of my heart."
With a final smile at the journalist, he turned to leave, making his way over to his family, and scooping up his son. The cameras absolutely adored this, and tried to take as many pictures as possible as the Hamiltons meandered through the congested paddock.
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“It’s the beginning of another great race weekend and we’re in Monza for the Italian Grand Prix!”
Monza held a special place in Rorie's heart, not just because of its rich racing history, but also because it was where she and Lewis had said their vows in a picturesque ceremony at Villa Reale di Monza. Surrounded by close friends and family as well as the beauty of Italy, it was a moment she would always cherish. Things seemed to be falling into place for Rorie - her article for Bustle was receiving positive feedback, she had been invited to some shows during New York Fashion Week, and there were other exciting opportunities on the horizon.
On her way to Monza after dropping off Lyric with Nina, Rorie made a stop in Milan to spend time with Hailey, shop a little, and enjoy lunch together. Although buying overtly expensive items wasn't her thing, Rorie couldn't resist treating herself to something special from Hermes to celebrate her current successes.
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The roar of the crowd brought Rorie back to reality. With Lewis starting at P8, she was praying for a miracle, hoping that he would get a podium. She beamed with pride as she watched her husband expertly navigate his car around the track, overtaking his competitors one by one. With each passing lap, her excitement mounted and she couldn't help but dance in her seat. The entire garage was filled with tension and anxiety as Lewis climbed up in the rankings.
But in a split second, disaster struck.
As Lewis attempted to overtake Oscar Piastri, they were side-by-side through Curva Grande, fighting for every inch of space before they soon made contact at the chicane.
Oscar's front wing sustained damage, forcing him to make a pit stop. With his adrenaline pumping, Lewis pushed himself harder than ever before.
"Fuck, didn't see him," Lewis muttered over the radio. Rorie's heart raced at his words, but she tried not to let it show on her face. Instead, she clenched her jaw in frustration - things were not going according to plan.
“You need to box after this lap,” noted Bono as he sat along with the rest of the engineers. “New tyres.”
"Alright," her husband responded.
Leaning over to Bono, she asked, "Will he receive a penalty for this?"
"Yes," Bono replied sadly. "The FIA mentioned a five-second penalty."
“Fuck me,” she groaned with an eye roll just as Lewis was pulling into the pit lane for his tyre change.
"Five second penalty, Lewis," Bono confirmed.
“Fuck me,” was Lewis' response as he sped out of the pits. "I swear I didn't see him; he was in my blind spot."
"I know, I know. Let's just focus on finishing the race," Bono said softly, trying to calm him.
Once the checkered flag flew, Lewis crossed the finish line in sixth place. It was an nice recovery from starting at P8, but it wasn't enough to secure a podium finish.
“I’m sorry,” Lewis said as he climbed out of his car and walked towards her. He looked defeated and exhausted, but Rorie could see the fire still burning in his eyes. She smiled softly and wrapped her arms around him.
“It’s not your fault, baby,” she whispered reassuringly, trying to comfort him. “You did your best.”
Lewis leaned down and kissed her before pulling away to talk briefly to the media waiting for him. When he finished talking to the them, he walked over to Rorie with a tired but content smile on his face.
Lewis's expression softened as he looked at her. "Thank you for always being my rock," he said sincerely.
Rorie smiled and leaned up to give him another kiss before they headed back to their motorhome. As they walked back hand in hand, they were greeted by cheers from the fans who had been waiting for them outside.
“I love you, Lewis!" one fan shouted as they passed by. "You're the GOAT!"
"Thanks so much," Lewis called back with a wave, genuinely touched by their support.
Once inside their motorhome, Rorie watched as Lewis collapsed onto the couch with an exhausted sigh. She grabbed him a bottle of water and sat next to him, running her hands through his braids soothingly. Lewis closed his eyes and let out a content hum, grateful for her touch.
For awhile, despite how noticeably defeated he was, he made a few jokes. He had a habit of using humor to lighten the mood, even in tough situations.
“Seriously though, thank you for always being there for me,” Lewis said, opening his eyes and looking up at her.
“Of course, that’s what I’m here for,” Rorie replied with a smile. “Wifey for lifey.”
“Wifey for lifey.” Lewis smiled tiredly and angled his head closer onto her lap. “You know what would make it even better?” he asked playfully.
“Hmm, I wonder what,” Rorie said, sardonically as she continued to massage his temples.
“Consolation sex,” Lewis grinned mischievously.
Rorie rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“But you love me,” Lewis teased, winking up at her.
Rorie leaned down and kissed him gently before pulling away with a smirk. “Yes, I do.”
“You know we still have some time before your flight in the morning…” Lewis trailed off suggestively. Rorie had a flight back home to Monaco early tomorrow morning. She was planning to spend a few days with Lyric before she had to go to New York.
Rorie raised an eyebrow at Lewis and smirked. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
Lewis gave her a crooked grin. “I’m always up for some consolation sex.”
“I know you are with your little freaky ass. I have an early flight,” Rorie reminded him, trying to be responsible. “Like a real early flight.”
“Oh come on,” Lewis pleaded playfully. “We can make it quick.”
“That’s what you always say,” Rorie teased, knowing full well that Lewis was never satisfied with just a quick session.
“Throw me a bone here, woman,” he said with puppy-dog eyes. “My car is shit and I’m not performing the way I want to perform. Can’t a man try to impregnate his wife in peace?”
Rorie shook her head at Lewis’s attempt to convince her to have sex with him.
“Fine,” she relented, giving in to his puppy-dog eyes. “But make it quick.”
Lewis grinned and wasted no time in jumping up excitedly, pulling Rorie onto his lap and kissing her passionately. “Bring that ass over here, Mrs. Hamilton.”
Rorie giggled into the kiss, knowing exactly how this would play out. “Yes, Sir.” That comment earned her a growl from Lewis.
“Don’t tease me,” he warned as he carried her towards the bedroom.
“And if I want to?” Rorie quipped as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeper, feeling the familiar electricity between them. They stumbled into the bedroom, and Lewis kicked the door shut behind them and gently laid Rorie down on the bed.
“God, I miss you,” he mumbled against her lips as he began to remove her blouse.
“I miss you too,” Rorie said between kisses as she ran her hands down his torso.
“You drive me crazy, do you know that?” Lewis’ eyes never left hers as he parted her legs wider to fit in between them. “You like that shit, don’t you, baby?” He lifted a leg, leaning closer to place a soft kiss on her ankle. Rorie moaned at the tender sensation, arching her back into a bow, her lids heavy with desire as she allowed him to pull off her pants. “You know how crazy I get ‘bout you right?”
She squirmed when he kissed her bare inner thigh. “Yes…baby…I know.”
“You know?” he whispered against her thigh, inching closer and closer to her panty-clad sex. His nose glazed over her womanhood, inhaling deeply as he savored her scent. “You know I’m ‘bout to tear this shit up, right?”
Fuck, I need you right now, she thought. Words escaped her at that moment, so all she could manage to do was nod.
Chuckling softly, Lewis wasted no time in taking off the last remaining clothing that covered her bottom half, delving into her pussy with unimaginable fervor. His fingers eventually joined his tongue, exploring her moist depths as the sounds of her slickness and cries of pleasure reverberated across the room.
"Just like that, baby," she moaned and Lewis hummed in acknowledgment, which sent a buzzing sensation through her body. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to make her lose control. And as much as Rorie wanted to hold on to the moment forever, she also craved for the release that only Lewis could give her.
Her hands found their way to his hair, tugging and pulling as he continued his ministrations. Lewis groaned against her skin, clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting from her. His fingers moved faster, his tongue working harder until Rorie's entire body trembled with pleasure.
"Fuck," she cried out as she finally reached her peak, waves of ecstasy washing over her. Lewis didn't stop though; he continued to pleasure her until she begged him to stop, tears of pleasure streaming down her face. Rorie lay on the bed, panting heavily as she tried to catch her breath.
"That's a good girl," he smiled, very cockily as he moved from her to sit on his haunches. She watched him curiously as he spread her juices into his beard.
"You’re nasty as fuck," she commented breathlessly.
"What?" Lewis grinned boyishly. “This shit helps the beard get fuller.”
"No, it doesn't," she stated matter-of-factly. “There’s no scientific proof that pussy fluids does that.”
“Mind your business, woman,” Lewis chuckled, pulling her to him.
Their lips met in a passionate embrace, his tongue teasing hers as he explored her mouth. As they kissed, Rorie could taste herself on his lips and it only made her want him more. She moaned into his mouth, lost in the moment and the intensity of their chemistry.
"Shit's good, huh?" he murmured against her lips before nipping at her lower lip. "You taste like nirvana."
“Nirvana? Really?”
“Yes.”
"You're such a weirdo," she teased as she straddled him.
"I'm a weirdo that knows how to please you," he countered, his hands gripping her hips tightly. “Are you gonna ride this dick or are you gonna play?”
There was never a dull moment with Lewis, that was for sure. But she couldn't deny the fact that he did indeed know how to please her in ways that no one else ever had. Rorie discarded the rest of his clothing. Moving her hips against his, she grinded into his hard length before sliding fully down his shaft. Lewis groaned and bucked up into her as she picked up the pace, riding him as if there was no tomorrow.
"Fuck," he muttered, gripping her hips tighter as she rode him harder. "You're so wet for me."
"I always am," she replied breathlessly, feeling herself getting closer to another orgasm. “Only you can make me this wet.”
Lewis smirked and flipped them over so he was on top, thrusting into her with a newfound intensity. Rorie wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer as their bodies moved together in perfect sync.
"You feel so fucking good," Lewis groaned, his face inches from hers.
"You too," Rorie managed to say between moans and gasps.
Their bodies moved faster and harder, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing through the room. And just when Rorie thought she couldn't take it anymore, Lewis leaned down and whispered in her ear.
"Come for me," he said huskily before biting down on her neck.
That was all it took for Rorie to shatter into a million pieces, screaming out Lewis's name as waves of pleasure washed over her once again. Lewis collapsed next to Rorie on the bed and pulled her close to him. They lay there in silence for a few minutes, just basking in each other’s warmth and presence.
“I needed that,” Lewis finally broke the silence, his voice hoarse with emotion.
“Me too,” Rorie replied, sighing happily. “I love you.”
“I love you too, baby.”
They lay together in quiet bliss for a while longer then Lewis sat up and reached for his phone on the nightstand.
"What are you doing?" Rorie asked curiously as she propped herself up on one elbow.
"I'm ordering us some food," he replied with a grin before placing an order at his team’s hospitality center. They usually had everything set up until late on race weekends to feed all the staff and crew.
Rorie laughed at his predictability but snuggled closer to him nonetheless. They were interrupted by a knock on the door not even a twenty minutes later.
"Damn, that was quick," Rorie commented as Lewis wrapped a towel around his waist to get their food.
He came back with two large containers of food and a huge smile on his face. "I told you they're getting better with everything, but honestly I don’t think it takes much to fuck up fries, hummus, and black bean burgers.”
"Wow, you really went all out," Rorie said as she opened one of the containers and took a bite of the burger.
"Well, I wanted to make sure my girl is well-fed after that workout we just had," Lewis replied with a wink.
Rorie rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "You're such a goofball."
"But you love me," Lewis teased, cupping her chin.
"Unfortunately, yes," Rorie joked, playfully swatting his hand away.
They continued to enjoy their food in comfortable silence until Lewis broke it by asking, "So what do you want to do tonight?"
"Hmm, how about we watch a movie?" Rorie suggested.
"Sounds good to me," Lewis agreed before getting up to put on some sweatpants and choosing a movie from Netflix. They cuddled up on the couch and watched the movie while finishing off their food.
“Are you gonna miss me when I’m in New York?” she wondered, batting her eyelashes adorably at him. Lewis was silent for several beats and then he shot her a look. “Lewis!”
“What?” he answered in feigned innocence, a laugh escaping him. “Oh, baby, you know I will,” he clarified in a serious tone, pulling her into his arms.
“Mmmhmm.” Rorie gave him a dismissive wave. “I don’t believe it.”
Lewis raised an eyebrow at her. “Why not?”
“Because,” she replied offhandedly, “you probably won’t have time to think about anything else but racing.”
Lewis chuckled and hugged her tighter. “That’s not true, baby. I’ll always make time for you. And that tight, wet pussy of yours.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing her to throw a balled napkin at his face.
Rorie rolled her eyes at Lewis’ playful antics and let out a laugh. She knew he was just trying to lighten the mood, but she couldn’t help the twinge of sadness she felt at the thought of her leaving for New York in a few days.
“Stop it,” she scolded with a smile.
“Sorry, sorry,” Lewis apologized, trying to contain his laughter. “I promise I’ll miss you like crazy when you’re gone.”
Rorie gave him a mock glare before snuggling back into his chest. “You better.”
“Promise me something?” he asked.
“Anything,” Rorie replied without hesitation.
“Promise me that you’ll take care of yourself and be safe,” he said, his voice laced with concern. “I know it gets crazy everywhere, but make sure you check-in with me throughout your time there.”
“I promise.”
They continued watching the movie in comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s presence.
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Rorie emerged from the taxi, taking a moment to absorb her surroundings. New York City's energy and constant bustle never failed to rejuvenate her. She still couldn't believe she was here, about to be a special guest at New York Fashion Week. Before meeting Lewis, she had only been to a few post-show parties as a regular attendee, but now she had VIP status and her entire week was filled with front row seats at top designer shows and exclusive invitations to the hottest parties.
She quickly sent a text to Lewis, letting him know that she had arrived safely. She waited for a response but when none came, she assumed he was still on the plane to Singapore.
As she made her way into the lobby of her hotel, she couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous about her upcoming schedule. But she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on checking in.
The concierge greeted her with a warm smile. “Welcome to The Ritz-Carlton. How may I help you?” he said.
“Checking in for Aurora Hamilton.”
The concierge typed on his computer's keyboard. “Ah, yes, Mrs. Hamilton. We just finished cleaning your suite and someone will be escorting you up there shortly.”
Rorie raised an eyebrow in confusion. “My suite?” she questioned.
“Yes, we received a last-minute request for an upgrade,” the concierge explained.
Rorie couldn’t believe it. “I’m sorry, what? Who requested an upgrade?” She only booked a room with a view of Central Park, still pricey but nothing like a suite.
Before the concierge could answer, a bellhop appeared and gestured for her to follow him. She thanked the concierge before making her way towards the elevators with the bellhop and her luggage trolley in tow.
When Rorie entered her suite, she was amazed by its spaciousness and elegance. A small dining area greeted her, followed by a large living room furnished with comfortable sofas. The floor-to-ceiling windows provided a breathtaking view of Central Park.
“Thank you for choosing The Ritz, ma’am,” the bellhop said as he finished unloading her luggage. Rorie smiled and handed him a generous tip. “Thank you,” he replied gratefully.
Without another word, he left her to her own devices. Rorie placed her shoulder bag on the dining room table then made her way to the bedroom to freshen up. As she walked into the bedroom, she let out a squeal when her eyes landed on the huge bouquet of roses on the bed.
“No fuckin’ way!”
She walked over to the bouquet of flowers and took a deep whiff as she read the card attached. No surprise that it was from her husband.
I saw that you booked a room and I had to fix that. My queen only stays in suites. Love you Aurora Borealis and enjoy your time at NYFW. - Your Baby Daddy P.S. Hurry back so we can finish our job of making a sibling for Lyric.
Rorie couldn’t help but laugh at Lewis’ note. He always had a way of making her feel special and loved, even from thousands of miles away. She took a picture of the flowers and sent it to Lewis with a message thanking him for the surprise.
Rorie decided to take a quick shower before heading out to explore the city some more. As she turned on the water, her phone finally buzzed with a text from Lewis:
Just landed. Glad you’re safe and like the suite. Call you later?
She quickly typed out a reply:
Yeah. Call me whenever you’re free.
After her shower, Rorie dressed in a lounge set and sifted through emails while she waited for Lewis’ call. Around eleven in the morning, Rorie’s phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime request from her husband. Despite the time difference, and being almost midnight in Singapore, he still managed to call her.
Rorie eagerly answered and was greeted with a tired but happy-looking Lewis. “Hey, babe,” he said, his voice warm and filled with love.
“Hi, baby,” Rorie replied, her heart melting at the sight of him.
“How was your flight?” Lewis asked as he settled into bed, propping himself up against the headboard.
“It was good. No delays or anything.” Rorie replied as she made herself comfortable on the couch in her suite.
“That’s good to hear. How’s the hotel?” Lewis asked, glancing around at the luxurious surroundings behind Rorie.
“It’s amazing. Thank you for surprising me with the suite.” Rorie smiled gratefully at her husband.
“I know how much you love your space and comfort. Plus, it’s only fitting for my queen to stay in a suite,” Lewis said with a smirk, making Rorie laugh.
They chatted for a while longer before Lewis announced that he needed to get some sleep since he had an early start in the morning. As they said their goodbyes and ‘I love yous’, Rorie couldn’t help but feel grateful for having such a loving and supportive husband.
Rorie decided to take advantage of her free time and explore the city. She started by walking through Central Park, taking in its beauty and serenity. She then made her way to Fifth Avenue to do some shopping.
As she walked into one of her favorite designer stores, she was greeted by friendly staff who recognized her from previous visits. After trying on several outfits and discussing options with one of the sales associates, she finally settled on a stunning red dress that hugged her curves perfectly.
Feeling satisfied with her purchase, Rorie continued exploring Fifth Avenue before heading back to the hotel to get ready for dinner with KiKi and some other friends. They decided to go to TAO Downtown for dinner. Rorie arrived at the restaurant and was greeted by KiKi and their friends with enthusiastic hugs. The group settled into their table, surrounded by plush velvet booths and dimly lit lanterns.
“Girl! You really out here doing big things!” KiKi exclaimed proudly at her beloved friend. “Thank you for the shoutout in your Bustle interview. Business has been crazy!”
Rorie smiled humbly, "You’re welcome, sweetie, and thank you."
The group ordered a variety of dishes to share, catching up on each other’s lives and reminiscing about old times.
After dinner, they headed to a rooftop bar nearby for drinks and dancing. They sipped on cocktails and danced under the stars, and it was nearing midnight when Rorie decided it was time to call it a night. Her body clock was still adjusting to the time difference, and she didn’t want to be exhausted for her first day of fashion shows tomorrow.
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Couple Days Later....
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Fashion Show. Photoshoot for a campaign. Meeting. Another meeting. Party. Fashion Show. Interview. Party.
Rorie’s schedule was packed for the week. Thus far, she attended three shows: Kate Spade, Brandon Maxwell, and Ulla Johnson. Tonight, she was attending the Khaite fashion show. The Khaite fashion show was held at a beautiful, ornate mansion in the Upper East Side. Rorie arrived early to ensure she could catch up with designer, Catherine Holstein.
As she walked through the doors of the mansion, she was greeted by the sounds of live music and the smell of fresh flowers. The venue was stunning, with high ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers and marble floors.
Rorie found Catherine backstage, busy making finishing touches to her models' outfits. She hugged Rorie excitedly before showing her around and introducing her to some of the other attendees.
The show began shortly after, with Rorie seated in the front row amongst other A-list celebrities. She watched in awe as the models strutted down the runway in stunning pieces from Catherine’s collection. The designs were elegant, yet modern, and Rorie could see herself wearing many of them for future events.
After the show ended, Rorie posed for the paparazzi, flashing her most glamorous smile and striking a few poses. She knew these pictures would be all over the media tomorrow. Making her way out of the mansion, Rorie was stopped by a group of fans who wanted to take pictures with her. She happily obliged, feeling grateful for their support before hopping into her waiting SUV to be driven to yet another afterparty.
The afterparty was hosted at a popular hot spot in the Meatpacking District and filled with top models, designers, and other notable figures in the industry. The music was loud, and the drinks were flowing as Rorie mingled and caught up with everyone.
As she made her way to the bar for another drink, her phone began to vibrate with an incoming FaceTime call from Lewis. She made her a beeline to the balcony of the party venue, eager for a quiet place to catch up with her busy husband.
“Hey baby,” Rorie greeted him with a smile, admiring his handsome face on the screen.
“Hey beautiful,” Lewis replied, returning her smile. “How’s your day been?”
“It’s been amazing,” Rorie gushed, taking in the sights and sounds of New York City in the background. “I’ve attended some incredible shows today and met some amazing people. I've been keeping updated on everything. How do you feel about quali today?"
Lewis smiled at her question, knowing that she was always supportive and interested in his career. “I feel really good about it. I’ve been practicing hard and I think I have a good chance at qualifying well.”
Rorie nodded, impressed by his determination and dedication. “I have no doubt that you’ll do amazing. I wish you could be here with me though,” Rorie sighed wistfully.
“I know, baby,” Lewis said sympathetically. “But we’ll have plenty of time together after this hectic week is over.”
Rorie's phone rang, indicating another call, and it was Yael on the line. At the same time, Lewis’ phone chirped repeatedly from receiving texts.
"Baby, I have to take this," she said. "Yael keeps calling me about something."
"That's strange," Lewis remarked. "Penni won't stop texting me either. Let me call you back, my love."
Rorie quickly ended the FaceTime call with Lewis and answered Yael’s call. "Hey, what’s going on?" she asked.
"Rorie, we have a problem," Yael said urgently. "Penni and I have been on the phone for the last three hours trying to stop this, but we can’t."
Rorie felt her heart drop. "What happened? Is everything okay?"
"No, it's not okay," Yael replied. "The Sun just posted a story about your family. Something about an affair between your mother and her former boss."
"What do you mean they posted a story?" Rorie asked, feeling confused and a tad irritated.
"I mean exactly that," Yael said with frustration evident in her voice. "Someone leaked this story to them and now it's blowing up all over social media."
A feeling of despair washed over Rorie as she considered the repercussions this could have on her family. She had never had any contact with her biological father, and there were countless reasons for that. One being his irresponsibility and refusal to acknowledge her existence, despite being just as involved in the affair as her mother. But all that didn't matter, because her stepfather stepped up as a father figure and provided for her and her sister. Rorie never held her mother's mistake against her, but that didn't mean she wanted the whole world to know about it.
"We've been trying to do damage control, but it's spreading like wildfire," Yael said. "That’s not the worst of it though."
Rorie had a sinking feeling in her stomach as she listened to Yael's words. "What else is there?" she asked, dreading the answer.
"They were snooping around in your health records. They know about Lyric," Yael said, gravely. "I mean his full name, how he was conceived, everything, but they way there are twisting it…Jesus Christ, it’s fucking disgusting."
"What should I do?" Rorie asked desperately.
"We need you to come back to the hotel immediately," Yael said firmly. "We'll figure out our next steps from there."
Feeling overwhelmed and anxious, Rorie rushed out of the party and made her way back to the hotel as fast as she could. She tried calling Lewis on the way, but he didn't answer.
Once she arrived at the hotel, she was bombarded by reporters and paparazzi asking for a statement about the leaked information.
"I have no comment at this time," Rorie managed to say before being ushered inside by members of her team.
In their suite, Yael briefed Rorie on what had happened so far while mentioning that Penni was working on damage control.
"We're doing everything we can to contain this," Yael stated. "Obviously, this is a huge privacy violation. Penni spoke with your and Lewis’ lawyers—"
"Lawyers?" Rorie interrupted with surprise. "Why do we need lawyers? Did Lewis agree to this?"
Yael looked at her in disbelief. "You don't see this as a potential legal issue? Your personal information and your child's information was leaked without your consent."
Rorie felt a wave of panic wash over her. She hadn't even thought about the legal implications of this situation, she was too focused on the emotional toll it would take on her family.
"But we don't know who leaked it," Rorie said, feeling overwhelmed. "We only know that it was The Sun, correct?"
"Yes, but we have some leads. Nothing concrete yet," Yael replied. "And the story they published about your parentage is really fucked."
Rorie's heart sank as she thought about how this would affect her mother and stepfather. They had worked so hard to build their reputation and now it was being tarnished by tabloids.
"Have you talked to them yet?" Rorie asked, feeling guilty for not being able to protect them from this.
"I've been trying, but they're avoiding my calls," Yael said grimly. "I don't blame them, I wouldn't want to talk to me either if I were in their shoes. You should give them a call later."
"Yeah, I should. Fuck me." Feeling helpless and overwhelmed, Rorie slumped onto the couch in her suite. She couldn't believe how quickly things had spiraled out of control.
"Okay, let's go over our plan," Yael said, trying to stay focused.
"Plan?" Rorie asked confused.
"Yes, our damage control plan," Yael replied firmly. "We need to get ahead of this story before it gets even more out of hand."
Rorie nodded and listened as Yael outlined their plan of action. They would release a statement threatening legal action against anyone who violated her privacy and released this information.
Once her meeting with Yael was over, she spoke with her parents, who were understandably upset about the leaked information. They were worried about their reputation, but ultimately how this would affect Rorie and Lewis.
"We'll get through this together," Rorie assured them over the phone, fighting back tears.
"I just can't believe someone would do this to you," her stepfather, Greg sighed. "We'll have our lawyers look into it as well."
Rorie appreciated their support, but she couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal. Someone close to her must have been involved in leaking the information.
"How are you holding up, honey?" her mother, Marian, wondered. "They’re so nasty towards you about your IVF journey. Lord knows the pain you and Lewis went through in order to have Lyric…and they…I-I’m so sorry, Aurora."
Rorie took a deep breath, trying to hold back her emotions. "It's okay, Mom. We've been through worse," she said, though she didn't quite believe it herself.
"How’s Lewis? We didn’t hear from him yet," wondered Greg.
"He’s still speaking with Penni and our lawyers. He sent me a text not that long ago. I should be getting a call from him soon."
After her conversation with her parents, Rorie spent the rest of the night in a daze. She couldn't believe that someone had invaded her privacy and used her struggles with fertility against her. And to make matters worse, they were now dragging her family through the mud as well. As she lay in bed that night, unable to sleep, Rorie's mind raced with questions: Who could have done this? And why now?
She promised herself that whoever was responsible would face the severe consequences. Rorie never played games when it came to protecting her family, especially when it involved her child.
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TO BE CONTINUED.....
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saskiasgallery · 8 months
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Rose Williams
as Charlotte Heywoo in Sanditon (2019)
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laelawrites · 2 months
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MONA LISA SMILE → PG10
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» summary : they say art transcends languages, and formula one driver pierre gasly begins understand that saying. social media & real person au
» pairing : pierre gasly x artist!reader
» faceclaim : rola
» disclaimer : the exhibit and artworks in this fic are created by jesse mockrin. i do not own any of these works; and parts of the captions used in this fic are directly from the press release of “The Venus Exhibit.”
» a/n : warning, badly translated Japanese ahead. dabbling into mixing real and social media so let me know what you think! I may continue this and make it a two-parter but I’m content with leaving it an open ending, who knows.
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8:04am sent to yuki 🏎️
yuki 🏎️
プラスワンの同伴は可能ですか?
can I bring a plus one with me?
you
もちろんだ!
of course !
yuki 🏎️
それじゃ、また! ☺️
see you then !!
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There was something about being invited to an art exhibit as your friend’s plus one, that’s taking place in a foreign county where you can’t even understand the language.
Granted, Pierre had nothing better to do as this year’s season hasn’t started and most of his winter plans were over by this time, but still; he couldn’t claim to understand the workings of his friend’s brain—Yuki Tsunoda was a complicated person to begin with.
Not to mention that the apparent artist was a close friend of Yuki’s and it being a personal invite on her behalf made him reluctant to go, feeling as if he was intruding. But a handful assurances from his close friend was how he found himself on a private jet off to Tokyo.
And it was because of those assurances that he found himself in a particular predicament.
That being: wandering the space and smiling emptily at anyone who had the unfortunate luck to make eye contact with him, and taking awkward sips of the champagne that was handed to him when he first walked in.
Now, that’s not to say he was complaining because there wasn’t much to complain about in the first place. The free servings of alcohol and the small dinner that was going to be held after the exhibition were all the reasons he needed to initially attend. The art—a form of media that he never truly understood—was simply an excuse.
However, as he stopped in front of another work on the wall to view the painting, he almost came to regret his decision. Yuki was nowhere to be found—Pierre lost him some fifteen minutes ago when a group of people came up to him before being dragged away. And he would have followed if it weren't for the rapid Japanese that spouted from their lips and the clear excitement written all over their faces.
But alas, some things were just not meant to be.
He made another glance at the painting before taking a slow sip of his champagne and turned to scan the crowd before him hoping to spot his small friend. And it was at that moment that he made eye contact with one of the most beautiful women he had the pleasure of laying his eyes on.
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INSTAGRAM
yourinstagram
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liked by yukitsunoda and 883,292 others
yourinstagram ヴィーナス・エフェクト』では、トワレのシーンから聖書や神話に登場する映り込みの物語まで、鏡と女性の歴史的表象を探求している。ヴィーナス効果とは、ヴィーナスが鏡を見つめる姿を描いた美術史上の伝統にちなんで名付けられたもので、ヴィーナスが自分の姿を見ているかのように錯覚する知覚現象である。実際には、鏡に映った彼女の視線は、絵画の鑑賞者やそれを描いた画家とつながっている。L/Nはこれを、女性の自己陶酔を描くと公言しながら、その代わりに彼女を描いた男性画家を憧れの眼差しで見つめる女性の主題を描いた、これらの歴史的絵画そのものの適切な比喩だと考えている。
私の個展にお越しいただき、応援と温かい言葉をありがとうございました!
In "The Venus Effect," L/N explores historical representations of women with mirrors, ranging from scenes of the toilette to biblical and mythological narratives of reflection. The Venus effect, named for the art historical tradition of images that depict Venus gazing into a mirror, is a perceptual phenomenon wherein the viewer is fooled into believing that Venus is looking at her own reflection. In reality, her line of sight in the mirror connects with the viewer of the painting or the painter who created it. L/N sees this as an apt metaphor for these historical paintings themselves, which profess to portray women's self-obsession, but instead depict a female subject gazing adoringly at the male painter who fashioned her.
Thank you very much for coming to my exhibition and for your support and warm words!
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user すごい !
user 美しい
yukitsunoda 招待してくれてありがとう。
Thanks for inviting me.
↳ yourinstagram もちろん!今度お友達を紹介して
ね。ケケケケ
Of course! Introduce me to your friend next time hahaha
↳ yukitsunoda 彼のハンドルネームは pierregasly
His handle is pierregasly
↳ yourinstagram 🙈🙈 あなたは彼をタグ付けする
ことになっていなかった!
You weren’t supposed to tag him!
↳ yukitsunoda ケケケケケケ
hahahaha
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Y/N rolled her shoulders, titling her head back to stare upon the ceiling of her studio that was once painted by, reminiscent to the Sistine Chapel—though she couldn’t even begin to compare her work to the likes of Michelangelo. Talent like his– No. Not even talent. It was a gift he curated with hard work that she couldn’t come close to by any measure.
But staring up at her ceiling, she couldn’t help but fondly shook her head at the audacity of her friend, even if his actions weren’t any surprising as he had the tendency to pull mischievous moves like this. Almost like a fox, if she had to admit.
Placing her phone down, she sighed as she stared at the half-assed canvas before her. Her sketching pad was opened to the page where the drawing she planned on painting laid, and she was supposed to move the sketch to the canvas but her low motivation left a corrigible mess she couldn’t bother to fix at the moment. Her lates exhibit, “The Venus Effect” was successful and she had been in talks for past day about another possible exhibit within the next year, but that all depended on her. And more specifically, her talent to paint which she found lacking with her motivation.
The stress of the past month weighed heavily on her shoulders even if the exhibit was open, and she couldn’t find it in herself to even think about starting a new collection—when normally, she had no problems with jumping straight into a new one.
Unbeknownst to her, her luck would quickly change in the upcoming days as her phone vibrated with another notification.
pierregasly has followed you!
pierregasly has sent you a dm!
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pierre gasly
Hello! I just wanted to say that I thought your work was wonderful, and wanted to thank you for the invite.
Or well, thank you for allowing Yuki to bring me along.
you
Of course!! I thank you for your nice words, and I am glad you enjoyed it.
pierre gasly
Do you have any more exhibits in Tokyo open? I’ll be in Japan for three more days and I’m curious to see more of your work in person.
you
I do not. It's less stressful so I'll open them one by one.
Sorry if my English is no good. I use a translation app to help.
pierregasly
That’s okay! You’re English is very good, I couldn’t tell you use a translator.
You’re doing better than me because I can’t speak Japanese at all!
you
Haha thank you. Not all the time I use translator. Only when I struggle with some words.
But if you want to see more work, I can invite you to my studio because you are in Japan for more days.
pierregasly
I would like that. I’m free tomorrow if you’re able?
you
Of course!! I will send you the address. I will be there all day, so you can visit at any time that you are able to.
pierregasly
okay thanks! I’ll see you tomorrow then.
you
😊😊
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you
角田裕毅、死んじゃったね!!
You’re so dead Yuki Tsunoda!!
yuki 🏎️
えーーー?!?!?
Ehhhh?!
俺が何をした????
What did I do???
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solanacreatesgifs · 1 year
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Sofia Boutella as Ahmanet in The Mummy (2017) Part Two (2/2)
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cillmequick · 5 months
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As always thank you for all the love so far on this story, I appreciate more than you can imagine. This chapter is a little Peaky character light but they (esp Tommy) are coming, I promise! Also, introducing my faceclaim for Emilia’s husband, George - Matthew Goode. I revealed Emilia’s in a moodboard earlier this week. Curious to hear your thoughts!
Summary: How is it that Emilia and George came to be as they are? Where did they begin and how has it fallen apart? We take a look at their relationship, and a not entirely successful dinner party has serious repercussions.
Warnings: Domestic violence, infidelity, references to pregnancy and related issues. Bad language including two (2) racial slurs. Oh, and historically inaccurate medical knowledge on drinking whilst pregnant.
Word count: 4574 PART 3 | SERIES
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Part 4: Pretty Little Liar
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1922
The first time she spoke to him was in the pub near the office. She hadn’t been working in the Ministry offices for long, but the other girls from the typing pool were kind and had insisted she join their regular Friday evening drinks. That had been a month earlier and now she was firmly part of the group.
It was his smile that had caught her eye first, the glint in his flinty grey eyes when he was amused. She had seen him around the office - he was always in and out with files, laughing and joking with the other girls. But so far not with her.
The pub was busy with the usual post-work crowd, crammed in, the windows steamed up with their warmth against the dreary winter’s day outside. It would be Christmas soon; twinkling lights already strung up behind the bar, a few battered decorations hanging from the ceiling and walls.
Ensconced in a corner booth, looking out into the throng, she caught him looking in her direction, standing with a group of other men she half recognised from the office. Unlike most, who would have immediately pretended not to be and looked away, he didn’t. He held her eyes for a few seconds, lips curved in a half smile above his pint and then slowly turned his attention back to his group, entirely unruffled.
“Well aren’t you the lucky one,” chuckled Sadie next to her, nudging her in the side as she followed her stare. “There’s girls who would kill to have George Hornby look at them like that.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Emilia deflected, covering her blush with stubbing out her cigarette; it had burned away to nothing whilst she’d been distracted.
Annie, sitting opposite, twisted in her seat to look and both Sadie and Emilia hissed at her to stop, Emilia’s cheeks growing warmer by the second. The slight kerfuffle caught his eye and he was grinning at her again. “Oh he’s so handsome,” Annie complained, turning back with a pained expression. “Lucky bitch.”
“Isn’t he stepping out with Eliza McKinnon from Accounting?” asked Mabel, attempting a surreptitious look over her shoulder as she lit a cigarette.
“Good thing none of us are relying on just you for office gossip,” teased Kitty, draining her glass. “They split up months ago! He’s very much available.” She winked at Emilia, the two glasses of gin clearly going to her head.
“You should go and talk to him,” urged Annie, grinning.
“What? No! He’s probably not even interested, it was literally just a look.” But her eyes were pulled back to him, only to find his eyes sliding towards her at the same time. She bit her lip as he raised his glass at her slightly.
God he was handsome. And it had been a long time…
“Whose round is it?” asked Kitty, slightly rattling her empty glass against the tabletop.
“Emilia’s,” grinned Sadie, sliding out the booth so Emilia could get out too. With a groan, she shimmed along the burgundy leather bench, smoothing her dress self-consciously as she took their orders.
It was no real surprise when he appeared at the bar, gently shouldering his way in beside her. Pushed closer to her by the ebullient crowd intent on spending their recently acquired salaries, the scent of sandalwood with undernotes of something spicy tickled her senses.
“You’re the new girl.” He smiled, that cat-like, half-lidded grin. “I’m George.”
“Emilia,” she replied, shaking his outstretched hand, holding it and his eyes for a moment too long without speaking, her brain struggling to form coherent sentences.
“‘Ere, love, are you paying for these?” grumbled the barman and she flushed, pulling back her hand to fumble in her purse.
“Allow me.” Before she could object he had handed money to the barman who disappeared to the till, shaking his head.
“You didn’t have to do that, it was my round.”
He shrugged, taking a drag on the cigarette he had hanging insouciantly between his fingers. “And I’m not allowed to buy my favourite typists a drink after a hard week deciphering my deplorable handwriting?” She laughed as he pinched his smoke between his lips and lifted the tray for her, giving her no choice but to let him carry it back to their table.
“Ladies,” he beamed, setting it down.
“I hope you’re not bothering our Emilia, Mr Hornby,” teased Sadie as she reached for her glass, shooting a wink at Emilia, making her wish the ground would swallow her whole.
He stepped back, turning to look at her, lips curved in amusement at her rosy cheeks.
“I certainly hope I’m not bothering her.” The way he held her eyes as he spoke made her insides flip and she cursed herself for feeling - and behaving - like a teenager.
“Of course not. Thank you for the drinks, Mr Hornby.” She took half a step to move back to her seat when he rested a warm palm on her forearm.
“George, please.” He didn’t move his hand, leaning slightly closer so that only she could hear. “Maybe I could buy you another drink sometime. Somewhere with slightly fewer spectators?”
“I’d like that,” she mumbled, feeling like her face was on fire.
He stepped back, and she shuffled back in next to Sadie, who had slid up the bench to make room.
“Enjoy your evening, ladies. See you on Monday,” he smiled, disappearing back to his own group.
“What did he say to you?!” hissed Annie and the others all leant forward to listen.
“He wants to take me out,” Emilia replied quietly to a chorus of whooping, a pleasant tingling running through her body, her arm still warm from his touch. It had been over a year since she’d left Ada’s and she’d barely been on a date. And the few she had been on didn’t go anywhere; the thought of being intimate with anyone after what happened made her feel physically sick. But somehow she felt different when George looked at her like that. Like it might be possible to want to let someone in again.
Tommy’s face floated in front of her eyes and she blinked it away fiercely.
You chose this, she told herself, trying to lose herself in the others’ excitement. It’s better this way.
*****
1928 - Present Day
Hettie ushered them into the warm parlour, gathering coats and hats as they shed them in the hall, their belongings scattering little droplets of water as she hung them up to dry.
“What a filthy night! Go and get warmed up,” she fussed. “Ben, where are those drinks?”
Emilia loved the Hawthorne’s house, it was always so cosy and inviting. Worn around the edges and always slightly shambolic, it somehow seemed imbued with the same irrepressible love of its occupants.
Not something she could say about her own, chilly home.
It hadn’t always been like that, of course. When they were first married she’d poured hour upon hour into decorating and making it comfortable. Back when she’d been forced to resign her role at the Ministry, because she had married, and had nothing but her home for occupation. Though, if it hadn’t been for Hettie persuading her to consider retraining - the library had no such qualms about offering married women gainful employment - she might have gone quietly mad.
As she lurked by the roaring fire, warming her frozen hands, Ben bustled in with a tray of martinis, olives on little cocktail sticks decorating each one.
“Here we go, a few of these and you won’t be feeling the cold anymore,” he grinned, handing them out, giving Emilia a swift hug at the same time.
“I’m not jealous at all,” drawled Hettie, settling herself on the sofa as he handed her a soda water with a dash of cordial. “I heard that some doctors think booze is bad for the baby,” she explained, “Probably a load of scaremongering nonsense but I thought I should probably try not to, all the same.”
“Makes me glad I’m not the one who has to give birth to the thing,” joked Ben, stroking her bump affectionately.
“Yes, because giving up alcohol is definitely the only reason why ‘giving birth to the thing’ is hard work,” she retorted, giving him a playful clip round the ear. She fixed her attention on Emilia with a grin. “If men had to go through all the difficulty of actually having a baby they would have developed a workaround for it decades ago.”
Emilia laughed but felt George tense next to her, his free hand curling into a white knuckled fist.
“Well I’m sorry you’re missing out on these excellent martinis. I think they might be your best yet, Ben,” she gabbled, desperately trying to change the subject.
*****
1926
They had been married now for over two years. A first drink in a bar, a week after their first proper meeting, turned into a romance that took her breath away. He was sweet and attentive and endlessly kind, particularly when she wanted to take things slowly. She regularly arrived at work to find flowers on her desk, or little hand written notes announcing some new treat for them to enjoy. He wooed her in a way she never had been before. Not even by Tommy, their early relationship much less conventional.
But the fact that he wasn’t Tommy was only to his credit as far as she was concerned. He made her feel safe, secure. And unless something dramatic happened in the world of boring civil servants, it was unlikely there would ever be anyone coming for her in the night, to use her as bait against him.
Barely a year later, he asked her to be his wife. And six months after that, they were married in a small ceremony with just those closest to them.
They didn’t begin trying right away - he wanted to be a little further in his career, earning a little more to make their family secure. But it didn’t seem to matter what they did, how energetic their efforts (and they certainly didn’t lack in that department) or how diligent they were with tracking her cycle, or any of the myriad of other things they tried. They just couldn’t seem to conceive.
Eventually he demanded they go to a doctor. A proper one - meaning an expensive one - on Harley Street. There were new medical treatments and practices they could try. Surely something would work…
She endured test after invasive test. She was scanned, prodded and swabbed in every possible way.
All leading to this day.
Sitting in the waiting room, her mouth was dry, her hand held tightly in his.
“Remember, no matter what they say, it’s no one’s fault,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. “I love you.”
She glanced at him with a brave smile just as they called their names.
That day in the expensive doctor’s surgery was one of the worst in her life. Well, top ten away. There were too many contenders for the top five. But the pain wasn’t so much for herself, but rather watching the man she loved fall to pieces before her eyes. Looking back, she knew that was the moment their marriage began to fracture, until all that was left of it was like the distorted image on a shattered mirror. Splintered and broken.
*****
Present day
They made it all the way to dessert without further mishap, easy conversation flowing with the wine and Hettie’s signature cottage pie. Leaving the boys to a heated discussion about cricket and rugby, Emilia and Hettie cleaned up in the kitchen.
“Is everything alright? With George..?” Hettie asked quietly, as Emilia handed her another plate to dry.
“Of course, what do you mean?” She cringed at the forced brightness in her own voice.
“Nothing… I just thought maybe I’d said something wrong earlier…”
Emilia’s hands stilled on the edge of the sink. She’d never talked about their position, not even to Hettie. Not after the row she and George had had about it after they got home from seeing the doctor. She glanced up, seeing Hettie looking at her expectantly, concern knitting her brow.
“Babies are just… a tricky subject for us, that’s all.” She offered her friend a weak smile as her face crumpled into shock. “It’s fine, really.”
“Oh god I’m sorry! You never talk about children…I just assumed you weren’t rushing or… shit, what an insensitive fool I am!” She groaned, hiding her face behind the tea towel in mortification.
Emilia gently pried the cloth away. “It’s fine, and you’re not - honestly. It just isn’t going to happen for us and he still finds that a little hard to swallow. I made my peace with it a long time ago.”
“I’m so sorry, Mils,” Hettie apologised again quietly, wrapping her friend in a sideways hug. “Of anyone in the world, you two deserve it.”
Tears sprang to Emilia’s eyes and she blinked them away, leaning her head against Hettie’s soft, blonde curls. “Some things just aren’t meant to be.” She took a deep breath, pushing a smile to her face. “But you and Ben, you are going to be the best parents. And I can’t wait to be an auntie to this little bean.” She wiped her damp fingers on her apron before resting her hand on Hettie’s bump, feeling the baby kick against her palm.
“Are you two ever coming back?” asked Ben from the doorway, finding his wife wrapped around Emilia. “Or do I need to worry about you stealing my woman, Mrs Hornby?!”
“You should always be worried about that, darling, she’s beautiful,” teased Hettie, separating from Emilia with a brief kiss to the side of her head.
Taking off their aprons the girls made their way back into the dining room, Hettie carrying an impressive looking chocolate cake for dessert, Emilia following with a little bowl of cream.
“Speaking of keeping a watchful eye, what’s this I hear about you and your secret admirer at the library?” chuckled Ben, passing Emilia a slice of cake. George stiffened, staring at her across the table.
“Don’t be silly, there’s no admirer,” she stammered, wishing she sounded more convincing. “Just Hettie telling tall tales.”
“How dare you! I do not tell tales,” gasped Hettie in mock outrage, waving the cake slice threateningly.
“Quite darling! Such slander in front of our unborn child!” Ben grinned, entirely oblivious to the tension jumping in his friend’s jaw. “No, come on Mils, you know who I mean - that suave chap from the patrons event? Just had to be shown the reading room.” He chuckled throatily as Emilia felt the prickle of cold sweat under her hair, George’s eyes boring holes into her. “What was his name…? Shelley… Selby…?”
“Shelby?” asked George, icily.
A coldness fell around the table and Hettie’s eyes flicked warily between her friend and her usually so genial husband.
“Oh now, you know I was only teasing Millie about him, Ben. She just happened to be the person Mayhew asked to show him around. It could have been any of us.”
Ben cleared his throat, confused by the sudden drop in social temperature. “Of course. I apologise, Millie, George, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s only funny because it’s so implausible...”
“It’s fine, I know,” she said quietly, feeling the weight of George’s eyes still burning into her. She glanced his way, frowning at him in rebuke for causing an atmosphere. “This cake is amazing, Het, you’ll have to give me the recipe.”
George cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s first rate,” he agreed, finally looking away from her, smoothing a pleasant smile back across his features.
But the damage was done. The evening never really recovered the same level of comfortable joviality and Emilia made their excuses to leave not long after.
*****
They caught a taxi home and he was silent for the whole journey. Just the sound of the rain, still hammering down, against the windows, the slick swish of tyres on wet roads.
Dodging the puddles on their little garden path she hurried to open the front door as he paid the driver, both tumbling through, blown by the wind. Slamming it against the weather, he shucked his coat off, quickly stalking towards the decanters in the living room as she removed her own more slowly.
She could already tell that the storm outside was going to have nothing on what was coming.
Swallowing hard, she followed him into the room. He was standing with a large whiskey in hand, staring into the fireplace. He didn’t turn around when she came in.
“Go on then,” she said quietly, a firmness in her tone that she was surprised to find. In fact she felt a strange sense of calm wash over her now the moment was finally here. “Let’s hear it.”
“Go to bed, Emilia.” In the past she might have been frightened by the edge in his voice. But not tonight.
“No. You clearly have something to say to me. So go on. Spit it out.”
He exhaled a half-amused breath, turning slowly to face her, a dangerous look in his steely eyes.
“Alright then. That was rather an interesting dinner conversation, don’t you think? Because, as I recall, you told me that you hadn’t seen that man in years before the evening outside the library. So tell me, darling, did you just forget that you’d seen him only a few nights earlier?”
She sighed, clasping her hands in front of her. “I hadn’t seen him in years, until the night of the event. Apparently he’s a patron now. I didn’t know he would be there.” She took a deep breath. “And if you’d bothered to show up that night, instead of fucking Sally Martin, you could have seen for yourself how surprised I was to see him.”
She turned on her heel and marched from the room, heading for the kitchen, but not before she saw the thunderous look on his face.
“This again?! Was I in some way unclear about my feelings about you making such wild accusations, Emilia?!” he raged, storming after her. “I’ve had just about enough of this - you will not speak to me like that in this house. Don’t you project your own sordid dealings onto me - I’m not the one fucking a gangster!”
She froze by the dresser, hand outstretched towards where she had stashed the photographs from Tommy. Slowly she turned to look at him.
“Oh yes, I know all about Thomas Shelby OBE.” He sank what was left of his drink, tossing the glass carelessly onto the table where it wobbled noisily. “After that evening outside the library, I did a little digging. It’s really quite staggering how many favours I’m owed across Whitehall these days.” He grinned, like a shark assessing its prey.
“Oh yes, with the right words in the right ears I had full access to his files. He might be one of Churchill’s little pets but his crimes are quite extensively documented.” He tutted softly, moving closer. “And he’s been a very naughty boy hasn’t he? Illegal gambling, fixing races, racketeering, god knows how many cuttings and beatings. Do you know, I think he might even be behind the murder of a Field Marshall way back in 1921. All hushed up of course, blamed on the troublesome paddies.”
He stopped in front of her, smiling wickedly as he saw her cheeks pale.
“Yes, he might look like money, with his institute for children and donating to libraries and his medals for valour. But underneath it all,” he lowered his voice, face inches from hers, “he’s nothing more than a filthy scum gypsy gangster, isn’t he?”
Anger surged through her veins, her whole body tight, every muscle tensed. “You don’t know a thing about him,” she hissed.
“The thing I can’t work out though,” he continued, leaning back slightly though entirely unphased by her bitterness, “is how exactly is it that you, a banker’s daughter with an education like yours, even knows a gangster like him?”
He paused, staring at her. He seemed to actually be waiting for an answer.
“I met him in a field hospital at the Somme,” she said quietly, shuddering as the smells and the noise all rushed back to her in a blast of memory. “He was injured. And we… we fell in love. As people do when their world might end at any moment.”
She looked away, feeling tears press behind her eyes as for a moment she was far away, on the edge of a field. The ceaseless thunder of shell and gunfire echoed far in the distance as a dark haired man, with the bluest eyes she had ever seen, kissed her like she had never been kissed before.
“So you whored for him in France and now you’re whoring for him again,” he taunted, cutting off her brief moment of reverie.
All her rage came flooding back and before she could stop herself she slapped him across the face. He stumbled backwards, eyes alive with shock and fury.
“I wish I could say I have! But I have never, not once - though frankly god only knows why - been unfaithful to you.”
He pressed his hand to his cheek, a red mark blossoming on his pale skin. “Do you really expect me to believe more of your lies, Emilia? After what you did? To us? To our marriage?”
She swallowed down the sharp stab guilt that had been her almost constant companion for the last two years.
“And what about what you’ve done to our marriage..?”
She reached behind her for the envelope, pushing past him to tip the photographic contents over the kitchen table. Standing back she watched with a certain sense of satisfaction as the colour drained from his face.
“Where did you get these..?” he mumbled, stepping closer to flick between them, his handsome features frozen rigid in shock as he took in image after image of himself and other women.
He saw it before she did. The little slip of paper amidst the photographs. With a cold stab of horror she saw him clock it and lunged to remove it. But he was closer, shoving her away with one hand as he grabbed it with the other.
“Well well…what’s this.. ‘I’m sorry if these hurt you, but I needed you to know I was telling the truth. You deserve so much better, Emmy’,” he read aloud in a slow monotone until the last word, his mouth twisting. “You hate being called Emmy.”
She opened her mouth to reply but he cut her off.
“Signed, T with a kiss.” He looked up at her, the darkness in his eyes frightening as he crumpled the note into a white knuckled fist.
“I suppose I can guess who that might be. You had him spying for you? Following me around?”
“No.. no.. I didn’t know anything about it.” She stumbled over her words as he advanced toward her. She wanted to move but her limbs wouldn’t cooperate, as if her feet had taken root in the floor.
“You filthy little liar,” he snarled, grabbing a handful of her hair, yanking until she gasped in pain, fingers scrabbling against his wrist, pressing against his chest. “All you have ever done is lie to me, you dirty.. little.. whore.” He shook her by the head to punctuate his words.
“Please, George, you’re hurting me. I swear didn’t know—” she begged, the burning pain in her scalp making her eyes water.
“Was it his bastard that ruined our marriage? Is that why your father disowned you, hmm?” She squirmed in his grasp but he only held on more tightly, his other hand coming to grip her jaw. “Because oh yes, I know he’s not dead. He’s still very much alive and kicking up there in York isn’t he?”
She wailed in anguish, trying to kick him and he threw her to the ground in disgust, jarring her knees as she landed on the hard wooden floor.
“Yet another thing you lied about Emilia.”
“My father is dead to me,” she snarled, wiping her eyes and pushing herself back up to her feet. “I haven’t spoken to him in almost a decade - he might as well be dead. And as for the other… do you not think I suffered too? That you were the only one it hurt?
“But this…” She pointed to photos, image after torturous image strewn across the table. “You lied to me day after day after day. How could you do something like this..?”
He lifted his chin defiantly. “Do you really blame me? After what you did?”
“But you made me think I was losing my mind!” He didn’t even flinch. “When all the while you were fucking god knows who!”
“A man has needs, Emilia.”
“I’m your wife! I was right here!” She fixed him with imploring eyes. “I was still the same woman you fell in love with.”
He barked a dry, disdainful laugh. “My wife, ladies and gentleman. And what a fine woman she is.” He stepped closer and she moved away. “The woman I fell in love with was a lie. It wasn’t me who ruined our marriage, Millie.”
“No. But you’re the one who decided it was ruined,” she whispered. “And then you trapped me here in this prison you call matrimony.”
Before he could speak she took off towards the hallway, grabbing her coat and bag, wrenching open the front door, the cold night blowing into the house.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?!” He grabbed for her but she ducked and ran out into the night.
“Emilia!! Come back here at once!” he yelled into the driving rain but she didn’t stop. She had no idea where she was going but she couldn’t spend another night, another minute, in that house. She heard the front door slam and quickened her pace in case he was following her. Checking over her shoulder, she squinted into the downpour, wishing she’d had the presence of mind to grab her umbrella as well as a coat; her hair was plastered to her head already and she swiped it from her eyes with the rain.
He was nowhere to be seen.
A bus was just pulling up at her stop when she arrived so without pausing to think, shelter being her only priority, she got on, shivering as she sank into the worn seat.
There was only one place she could think of going. Of course, she could go back to Hettie and Ben’s, but the shame, the burning mortification of what her life had become, held her back.
A few stops later and she was pushing through the heavy door of the pub, quiet at this late hour. She was lucky it was still even open.
“Emilia..?”
“I need to use the phone Frank,” she croaked, the barman looking at her bedraggled appearance in surprise.
He nodded her through to the back and she rooted in her handbag as she walked, searching for the little slip of paper with the number she needed.
The line seemed to ring a long time before it connected, her foot jiggling nervously as she waited.
“Hello?”
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Ada..? I’m sorry to call so late, but I need your help.”
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PART 5
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But what is the secret?!??? I hear you yell, loudly, possibly with pitchforks. I promise that if you can stick with me, all shall be revealed. As ever, feedback in any form is love 🤍 xx
Masterlists: TOMMY | SERIES | MAIN
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sorenphelps · 3 months
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All the artwork I made for the fanfic Crazy Ex-Boyfriend by @amethystheart2421 for this year's @rsbigbang!
It was a wild run, we got paired up quite late due to our original pairs dropping out of the Bang, and even though it was already December and time was running thin, I decided to make this whole deal a way bigger challenge than it supposed to be... So I ended up drawing all 7 fantasy sequences, trying to mimic a different style for all of them, and finishing both versions of the banners I had in mind. I know, I know, but I swear even I wasn't aware that I am such an overachiever either!
Also, I usually like to hide little details as easter eggs on all of my artwork, so naturally this was the case with these too. I'm gonna list them one by one, also share a little story about each piece, sort of like a "directors cut werk", just so we stick to the screenplay motif. The numbers in brackets lists the order in which I drew the pictures.
The banners (1.,9.): I haven't watched Crazy Ex-Girlfriend the show, so I really had no idea about this whole thing, hence my initial idea of re-drawing one of the official promo posters of the show as the banner. But then Nicole shared the first scene with me when we got paired up, and also told me that her original artist wanted to draw the stargazing scene, which I also really liked. I sketched out both versions to see which one would look better, and also to warm up a bit for this version of the characters. (Nicole also shared some faceclaims, so except Sirius' and Lily's design, I tried to stick to her vision as much as I could.) The Netflix poster was considered the final one for quite a while. The stargazing banner was the last piece of artwork I finished, which I also edited to be used as Chapter dividers. I liked the idea so much I actually referenced the starry sky on the other pictures too. On the Netflix banner, Remus' socks and Sirius' suit handkerchief (how do you call those things in English, gahh) both have the starry pattern.
The western (3.): By this time it was decided that I'd do all fantasy sequences in a different art style, but I couldn't really come up with any specific style which could have fit the western vibes, so the characters are drawn in my own usual style, only the colouring is different. I tried to go for a sepia effect, without using a filter, I think I could pull it off well enough. I was considering to draw Sirius as a Native American for this, because I just don't see him as Caucasian in general, and also, Black Dog sounds like a badly translated indigenous name... But I discarded this idea for the sake of "historical accuracy" (and to save time, haha), as I think they wouldn't visit a saloon this way. I added the starry sky pattern to Sirius' handkerchief and... scarf? (I really should learn how certain textil items are called in English...) There is a wanted poster in the background with Voldy. And I swear I didn't mean to draw Remus looking this horny, it just kinda happened by accident! He is sure VERY fascinated by Sirius'... pistol.😜
The Star Trek (6.): My original idea was to draw like usual and just add so many lensflares to the picture that it's not visible if I copied another style or not. But in the meantime I started to watch Star Trek: Strange New Worlds with my bf and also found out that there is a new cartoon too, so it was then settled. This style is very different from my own, but it was so much fun! It was weird not to draw every single strand of hair in excruciating detail, actually that was the hardest part, haha! I struggled a bit with the placement of the lensflares too, the first version had too many and too bright, it had a disco vibe rather than a spaceship. I wanted to add easter eggs to the background screen, but I was running out of time, so there's only one light blue star similar on the screen! Also now I know that the uniform colors are not really consistent in Star Trek, and Remus’ might have had to be gold as Captain…🤷🏻‍♀️
The Disney (2.): This one sparked the first idea in my head after I read all fantasy scenes Nicole kindly shared with me. When I first sketched this, I still had no idea that I will end up drawing for every chapter and the style copying was not settled either. It started with this piece, I had the vision of the wolf chasing scene from Beauty and the Beast, and we were discussing whether it's plausible to collect berries during the winter or not... I've tried to make the final piece look as classic Disney as I can, and since I could pull it off, it was not a question anymore whether I'd try to do this with other styles for the other scenes. Retrospectively, this one was the easiest to make, apparently my usual style is not that far from Disney (I grew up watching those movies, so it's not a surprise), but I had to really focus on drawing the animals, it's been ages since I last drew any! (The trick is to give them eyebrows, and bam, it's Disney style!) Sirius' armour, clothes and sword has the star, and I also designed his own "crest" with the black dog and a star on his shoulder plate. The whole concept of the picture is Sirius' side being very bright coloured, while Remus' with the scary wolves in the background being very dark. This might have worked better if it was not set in the winter, but I wanted to stick to the Beauty and the Beast vision I had.
The Comicbook (4.): I was very excited for this one, I really like the looks of the old Batman the animated series, and the way some of his comics are drawn. It's such a unique style, I really like the simple shapes and bold contrasts. Well, it turned out I am very bad at this! I struggled quite a bit trying to capture what I had in mind, but I couldn't even come close to it... So I kinda cheated a bit because I just traced the lineart directly from the reference pictures of Batman comic books I found online. I tried to make Remus less buff, but it looked very weird, so I let him keep his muscular Batman body instead. I drew the wolf mask and the whole Sirius panel, and the coloring went smoothly after I finalized the lineart, even though I only realized that I switched the colour schemes of Remus' superhero outfit when I looked up the quotes for the comic panels, oops. Overall I like how it looks, but I am not that proud of it as I had to "cheat".
The Hobbit (5.): I've probably spent the most time with this one! I actually really like Martin Freeman as an older Remus FC, so I was quite excited to do this piece. My original idea was to mimic John Howe's style, as he is the Tolkien illustrator god, but his level of skill and mine are very very far from each other... and as I struggled a lot with the Batman piece, I felt like going for a smaller challenge. That's why I decided to have a go at Alphonse Mucha's art nouveau style. Turned out it was the worst possible idea! 🤣 The whole point of art nouveau is depicting attractive ladies in an ethereal way... But if you switch the ladies with a fat hobbit, the vibe def won't be the same! The first version just looks so extremely absurd, it's both awful and hilarious. By the time I could fix the pose so it wouldn't look as ridiculous, the final style looked nothing like art nouveau... I still have no idea what style it is now, not my own or any of the ones I tried to capture, that's for sure. I considered adding the star pattern to that tablecloth, but I decided that the lupin flowers in the foreground and the whomping willow-like tree are enough reference for this pic! I like how it turned out in the end tho, I think I could do justice for the watercolor-looking coloring technique, and the end result looks a bit like a fancier version of old children's book illustrations... Which is essentially what The Hobbit is, so it all sorted itself out by the end.
The Anime (7.): I like anime (I'm a little picky about them tho), so it was not a question that I would give this style a try! I am a huge fan of cyberpunk (the genre), so initially wanted to do that, I'm such a slut for Ghost in the Shell and I really like the aesthetics of the Akira posters, but after reading the actual scene, it was not really fitting. So I saved the cyberpunk AU for later, and went for the post-apocalyptic vibe instead. Obviously anime had a great influence on my art style, so similar to the Disney one, it was not that much of a challenge to mimic it. However I'm not that good at drawing backgrounds, and oh boy, I really made myself get over this obstacle with this series of pictures! Also as I was more comfortable with this piece, I actually added the starry sky pattern from the beginning to the scarf/blanket Remus has on this picture!
The Sitcom (8.): The original idea was to copy Hanna Barbera's old family cartoons' style, but as my deadline was very close and after reading the scene I realized that it will have a shitton of characters, I quickly abandoned my original plan. So this one is drawn in my own style, sort of, the designs of the characters are more aligned with Nicole's vision (sans Sirius, Lily, and partly Peter). The hardest part was definitely to figure out how I could fit 10 characters into one picture, let alone sitting in a living room! Also, I had to actually draw the living room too, considering perspective and scaling... Something I am not that good at. In the end the coffee table is maybe a little too big, but I needed that to hide the legs of the characters sitting on the sofa, haha! Also, the sofa is the Millennial Dark Green Velvet Sofa, because I also want to have one and it really emphasizes the general existential dread! (Just kidding.) Also also, I just realized that I have no idea how to eat tacos without making a mess (they are not that popular where I live). I added the starry sky pattern to Sirius' shirt, and gave a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles T-shirt to Peter, as he is talking about that in the scene. I wanted to squeeze in further references to the newspaper Remus is holding, but it was too tiny. The star from Knight Sirius' armour is in the background on the bookshelf. Also that globe just makes no sense but I had no better idea how to fill the empty space 😅. Molly is holding a mug with "BEST MOM" written on it, and I intentionally made Marlene's eye colour the same as Remus', who btw should have worn a bathrobe according to the original scene, but it was too late to fix that by the time I realized it. All in all, I am quite satisfied with how it turned out, it has the necessary sitcom vibes. And it is kinda a record for me in terms of number of characters drawn (the most was 12, but that one has no background, so I'd call it a tie!)!! I am very proud of myself for pulling this piece off, it really is the achievement of the year!
TLDR; (I mean really, my rambling is just too long!) I am happy that I was paired up with Nicole, working with her was such a creative process! My absolute favourite thing to do is work on AUs, and she has provided me with the opportunity to do so, I am grateful! It was truly a pleasure to participate in this (even if it's not that clear from all the complaining I just had above, haha)! If you ask me nicely I might show you the cursed first version of the hobbit picture!
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