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agendabymooner · 10 months

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goodnight n go ! max v. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

“it’s bad enough we get along so well.”

summary: there’s a way to make a graduation celebration better than to have her photos taken by the paparazzi, and max verstappen makes sure she remembers that. OR the dutch driver is making it hard for sylvie to dislike him. (1) (2)

content warning: use of explicit language

note: i wrote too much blurbs yesterday of max verstappen.

masterlist

liked by max33verstappen, lewishamilton, tillymarie

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lando.norris proud of you best friend!!!

charles_leclerc congrats sylvie!! (the master debater part isn’t that necessary)

tillymarie so so so proud of you lovie ! keep it up !

Photos were taken left and right by the time her family stepped out of the Sheldonian Theatre. Her black grad gown, she couldn’t wait to take it off. There’s three or five paparazzi that were by the gates, asking to get her photos taken— but she didn’t want to look in their direction, wanting to celebrate her accomplishments with her sisters and her mother after the grueling four years of school. Was she ever thankful that her private school had offered the advancement program.

She was a graduate at 18– all thanks to the program and the money that her mother had invested into her education. Sylvie was so much like her sisters, but she had gotten into her post secondary education earlier because of her intelligence. Tilly had moved a year up after having herself assessed, but Sylvie… She's the only one who’s managed to get to college early due to the practically perfect marks that she had gotten throughout the years.

“Sylvie, can you just pose with your sisters for a moment?” Her mother begged as she held the digital camera, lens pointing at Sylvie, Stevie and Aimee. “We need a photo to put up in my study.”

“Maman, there’s a lot of paparazzi,” Sylvie whined, stomping her feet lightly. “I’m sure they got something for us.”

“They’ve been told to stay within a certain distance,” Stevie nudged Sylvie. She smiled and murmured, “Now smile. I need some photos to post.”

“I don’t like you,” Sylvie grumbled before her mouth quirked, hearing her mother’s camera clicking. That… and the many clicks of the cameras from the gate did too. It was meant to be a celebration for her family and friends only. It turns out, her life was everyone else’s too.

Posing for a few more pictures, Blanche Ford finally put the camera down and grinned. “Well, do you want to get your photos taken with your friends?”

“Already had enough taken earlier, Maman,” Sylvie sighed, “I want to go home and see Soren now.”

She didn’t want to celebrate. The past few weeks were rough. The Spanish GP had taken a toll on her energy and mental wellbeing; the last thing she had wanted to do was host parties or call for celebration. Whatever they had planned for today, that wasn’t her doing.

All she wanted was to see her two week old nephew and retire to bed after.

But her family had a different plan. She only found out when they made the drive back to Brackley.

Their home there had been built long before anyone was even born. It was only purchased by Blanche by the time her divorce papers were filed and signed, making it a home for her three daughters. They grew up there, and they didn’t even know that a few minutes from their place was the Mercedes AMG Petronas headquarters. It was funny how that worked because Tilly never really met Toto despite visiting the town. Sylvie still laughed about that.

The estate was something of a peaceful place. Sylvie loved it there. She made it a goal to spend her Christmas breaks at home seeing as university was only 27 minutes away. Now, not only was she staying there again, but Tilly and Toto moved to another neighborhood that’s only 10 minutes away from their estate. It was an easier commute for Sylvie if she wanted to visit Soren.

But her thoughts washed away when she opened the front door and heard the screams of, “SURPRISE!”

Sylvie caught the graduation cap that she nearly dropped. What the hell is going on, she asked herself.

The foyer wasn’t fully decorated but anyone who had never seen the full estate would say otherwise. Balloons that spelled out ‘Congratulations’ were hung up and reflecting due to their metallic appearance. The marble columns by the two spiral staircases were fully wrapped in artificially made hydrangeas and other perennials that made the muted foyer colourful. As if those weren’t enough, the arch leading to the halls were decorated with garlands and flowers, string lights putting a wedding reception to shame because of how warm it made the house’s appearance.

“You are not supposed to be here,” she finally found her words as she pointed at Toto, who was merely laughing at her bluntness as he approached her with a smile, hugging her as she wrapped her arms as much as she could around him.

“Congratulations, maus,” Toto grinned, “I’m so proud of you.”

That party that Tilly and Blanche held for her started there, but the discomfort that she was feeling while she wore her university uniform was unbecoming. So while she was having a conversation with Lando and George, she excused herself for a second to head upstairs and change her clothes.

Life really was full of surprises, Sylvie told herself hours after she opened the door to her bedroom and found her vanity area cluttered with shopping bags and piles of books. She could have sworn that she hadn’t purchased any books lately, too stressed out to even look at a back synopsis. She also knew that there were some things sent to her by designer houses and brands that were trying to hire her — graduation gifts, her agent told her a day ago. But those gifts were downstairs according to Tilly. So she wasn’t exactly sure where this came from.

Looking at the corner of her bedroom, however, she moved quickly as she grabbed the blue envelope from the foot tall teddy bear that she swore she never had either. The envelope was addressed to her. Well… it’s addressed to a “B. Mustang” making it easily known to her who had written the content inside. Regardless, she opened the envelope and read the message.

“Mustang,

Congratulations on surviving university. I heard it sucks there. I hope you like this bear— I called him McLaren. At least we have something to not argue about, no?

Also I hope you like the gifts I got you. It’s the least I can do. Enjoy your celebration! Wish me luck for the next race.

Love,

O. Cadillac.”

She had never been so frustrated over a man before. She swore. She hated having to see his face at the paddock or the garage but she had never been so angry about appreciating him or liking him. He made it difficult for her to dislike him, she hated that.

She wanted to toss out the Dior, Cartier and whatever the fuck were dropped off at her bedroom. Everything that came from him, she wanted to throw out. Even McLaren the Teddy Bear. She wanted to despise him so much because of how shitty their history had turned out to become. But it’s not going to work like that anytime soon, she told herself. She was going to work with him one way or another and she’d have to work with him professionally. Clearly hatred didn’t work out for her— she was so grateful for the gifts he had gotten her and she was slowly returning the same feeling that he had.

She told herself that she could stay in her room for another fifteen minutes and looked down at the letter in her hand. With a sigh, she pulled out her phone and began typing. Her right hand typed and searched for his name and the other began to open the little bags first.

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centuriespast · 6 months

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Truth Descending on the Arts and Sciences to Expel Ignorance from the University Robert Streater (1621–1679) Sheldonian Theatre, University of Oxford

#good luck #with that

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granada1443 · 7 months

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Douglas Murray introduces Kevin Spacey’s recital of a scene from William Shakespeare’s Timon of Athens. His performance was part of an annual series of free lectures in honour of Sir Roger Scruton, hosted in the Sheldonian Theatre at Oxford University.

Starting from the fifth minute of the video, Kevin recites Shakespeare. October 16, 2023

youtube

#kevin spacey #Youtube #shakespeare #oxford #theatre

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grandmaster-anne · 1 year

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14 March 2022 The Princess Royal, Patron, the Butler Trust, attended the Annual Award Ceremony at the Sheldonian Theatre, Oxford, Oxfordshire. Her Royal Highness later attended the Butler Trust Awards Reception at Keble College, Parks Road, Oxford, and was received by Mrs. Ann Campbell (Deputy Lieutenant of Oxfordshire). 📸: Jose Aguiar FRSA

#i'm calling this suit #the suit of 2022 #princess anne #princess royal #annegagements

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legolasbadass · 1 year

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Office Hours, Part 16

Summary: Lorelei Browning has just secured a job as an assistant professor at Exeter College in Oxford. Naturally, she is eager to prove herself and meet every challenge sent her way, but what she does not expect is the tall, handsome stranger who will quickly become much more than a colleague…

Relationship: Richard Armitage x OC (Professor AU)

Word Count: 4k

Rating: E

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my darling @linasofia. Thanks for all your help and support, I don’t know what I would do without you ❤️

Read on AO3

The rain drumming against the windows of Blackwell’s distorts the view of the Sheldonian Theatre and the dozens of people running or biking through the street in search of shelter. Though the cold dampness still clings to me, inside the bookshop, it’s calm and cozy. After chatting with the shop manager to plan a visit with some students for my upcoming Tolkien and C.S. Lewis in Oxford course, I make my way upstairs to the third floor for the secondhand books. Browsing through used and antique books has always been a passion of mine, and I feel at peace as I step into the quiet corner of the bookshop and run my fingers over the discoloured and sometimes cracked covers and flick through yellowed pages, some with notes and names inked into them.

I spent most of the time between Christmas and New Year’s at my parents, trying to figure out when I should call Richard, only to realize that I certainly couldn’t have such a meaningful conversation with him on the phone, so after much deliberating, I’ve resolved to go to his house tonight. Hopefully, he’ll be there, otherwise, I just have to pray that we’ll bump into each other soon. After all, Oxford is rather a small town.

With a pile of books in my arms, I step toward the next bookshelf containing more volumes on Old English. I always find very special books here, and it doesn’t take long before I spot something interesting. As soon as I reach for it, however, someone else grabs it, and I jump, having thought myself alone in this alley. To my surprise, the culprit is none other than Dave, one of the librarians working in Duke Humphrey’s Reading Room at the Bod.

“Professor Browning,” he greets me with a smirk.

“Oh, hi, Dave,” I say hesitantly. “How are you?”

“Good, good. I haven’t seen you at the Bod lately.”

“Well, it was the holidays, so you know.” I shrug. “Plus I actually finished the book I was working on, so I’m taking a short break from research.”

“Finished your book, eh? That’s great!” he says, but his mind seems elsewhere. “Hey, listen—can I call you Lorelei?”

“Er, yeah—of course,” I answer, somewhat startled by the flow of the conversation.

He smiles. “Good.”

I nod, wondering when I will be able to end this awkward small talk and return to the books all around me. “So you’re interested in the role of women in Old English literature?”

“What?”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “The book you’re holding. Woman as Hero in Old English Literature.”

“Oh.” He takes a look at the book cover, frowning. “No, that’s not really my thing. I’m more into modernism, actually.”

“Right. So can I take a look at it then?”

He smirks. “I’ll tell you what—I’ll give this book back to you if you agree to go on a date with me.”

“What?” I reply with an incredulous chuckle but quickly realize he’s serious. I suddenly recall that time Richard and I spent the afternoon at the Bod and how he had voiced his suspicion about Dave’s feelings toward me. I hadn’t believed him at the time. “Listen … I’m flattered, but I’m not interested.”

“You have a boyfriend.”

It’s not a question, but the fact that he refuses to accept my disinterest forces me to answer him. “It’s complicated. My boyfriend and I broke up recently, but I don’t want it to remain that way.”

Dave shakes his head slowly. “You know, getting back with your ex is rarely a good idea.”

This time I don’t stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Well, thanks for the advice, but I think I know what’s right for me.”

“What if your boyfriend doesn’t want to get back together with you? Would you consider my offer then?”

I sigh in annoyance. “Dave—”

“Come on, it’s just one date.”

“She’s not interested, mate,” a familiar, rumbling voice suddenly asserts from behind me, and my heart leaps in my chest. “She made that perfectly clear.”

“This is none of your business,” Dave retorts.

“I think you’d better leave,” Richard says, his voice calm, but the threat underlying his words doesn’t escape Dave’s notice, and soon enough, he drops the book back onto the bookshelf and tells me, “Call me if you change your mind,” before heading out toward the stairs.

Before I can say anything, Richard hastens to stand before me and asks, “Are you okay?” his voice laced with concern. It takes everything in me not to jump into his arms.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you.”

An awkward silence settles between us, and I find myself watching him intently, filled with nearly overwhelming longing. The collar of his trenchcoat is raised, and combined with his damp, unruly hair, I can tell that the rain has only intensified since I took refuge in the bookshop. I know him well enough to recognize the softness in the depth of his blue eyes, and it sparks hope in me, but despite having imagined this moment hundreds of times since we broke up, I can’t seem to find the right words.

“How are you?” I begin hesitantly, my fingers fiddling with the edges of the pages in my hands.

He looks at me for a moment, then gulps. “I’m alright. You?”

“I’ve been better,” I answer with a shrug. Then, without really thinking, I add, “I finished my book.”

Richard’s face lights up, and he smiles. “You did? Lorelei, that’s amazing—I’m so proud of you.”

We share a tender smile, gazing into each other’s eyes. Then, as though suddenly realizing that such intimacy is far beyond what we should be sharing with one another given the circumstances, we both look away, and heat rises up my cheeks.

He clears his throat. “I should go.”

“No—wait!”

He halts, eyeing me curiously, and with a hint of longing, if I’m not mistaken.

“We need to talk,” I blurt out before I lose my courage again. “I want us to talk, please.”

With a sigh, he scratches his beard with one of his large hands. I suddenly realize that his beard is slightly longer and more unkempt than I remember. “I guess you wouldn’t want to talk here, though, right? Too public. Anyone could see us.”

My heart tightens in my chest at his bitter tone. I hate myself so much for hurting him.

“I don’t care if anyone sees us,” I reply, my voice trembling slightly. “I don’t care if Professor Bennett or even the Rector sees us.” Richard’s face softens as I pause, and though I don’t want to have such an important discussion in a public place, I can’t stop the words from pouring out of me. “I never should have asked you to keep our relationship a secret so long, much less lie to my parents about us being colleagues. I’m so sorry for asking that of you. The truth is I was scared! I worked practically my whole life to get to this point—to become a professor—but being at Oxford is more than I ever could have dreamed of. I don’t want to make excuses; I just mean that—I knew I had to prove myself, because I know I can lose this position. My plan was to dedicate myself wholeheartedly to my courses and my research so that I could prove I earned my place. And then I met you and you turned my whole life upside down so quickly.”

“Lorelei—”

“No please—let me say this. In just a few months, you’ve come to mean the world to me. And that was scary because suddenly I found myself daydreaming about you in class and during meetings, and spending time I should have been focusing on my research with you. And then I thought—what will people think if they find out? It might give them a reason to undermine me—they might think I’m not so dedicated to this job, and because my place at Exeter isn’t assured, I thought it would be best if no one knew about us. But what I didn’t understand is that, no, my job at Exeter isn’t assured, but I could still do everything right and not be offered a permanent position in a few years. I can do my job to the best of my abilities, but I don’t have a say in the college’s final decision. I do, however, have a say in this—in us . I can’t sacrifice my career for you, but I certainly don’t want to sacrifice what we have for my career. I want to be with you no matter what. If teaching at Oxford doesn’t work out for me in the end, there’s other jobs out there—but there’s only one of you, and nothing is worth giving you up. I’m just sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

My heart hammering in my chest, I hold my breath as I wait for him to say something— anything , but he merely looks back at me with a frown. A few moments go by, that gnawing silence lingering between us, and a small voice at the back of my mind begins to sow doubt in my heart.

What if he doesn’t want me back?

“Look, I know I don’t deserve a second chance. And I certainly don’t expect you to forgive me in a heartbeat. But I hope that maybe … maybe in the future, we can at least be friends if this doesn’t work out.” My voice falters over the word friends , and I have to bite my lips and look away to stop myself from crying.

Another moment of silence ensues, but then Richard takes a careful step toward me. I would only have to raise my hand to touch him; the thought makes my heart flutter, and when I take a chance and look up at him, I find him gazing back at me with such raw tenderness that I feel the whole room spinning around us, and those three words I have longed to speak come to mind. But then he kisses me. His lips are slow and somewhat hesitant against mine, reminding me of the gentleness I thought I would never feel again. I had not forgotten what it felt like to be kissed by him, but I had thought we had shared our last kiss, and to be in his arms once more and feel his beard scratching my cheeks as his tongue tangles with mine reminds me of what I almost lost.

As though sensing my thoughts, Richard pulls away and rests his forehead against mine, his deep blue eyes filling my vision. “Lorelei…” he whispers, his voice heavy with emotion as he rubs his nose against mine.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice breaking.

Richard shakes his head and silences me with a kiss. “I know. And I’m sorry for what I said that night.”

“You have nothing to apologize for!” I hasten to say, recalling his tear-stained cheeks as he held onto my hand in the car. “I was totally selfish and inconsiderate!”

“Maybe, but you were also concerned about your career, and I knew from the beginning that was your priority.”

“My career is important to me, yes, but so are you,” I say earnestly, causing him to smile. Then, not knowing how else to express the myriad of emotions swirling through me, I drop the books I’m holding onto the nearest shelf and wrap my arms around his neck to pull him toward me for another kiss. We forget all about our surroundings as we lose ourselves in this embrace, our lips perfectly in sync as though not a minute passed by since we last tasted each other, but in the end, we’re forced to pull away to breathe, and that’s when I notice that we have attracted the attention of other people in the bookshop.

“We’re putting on a show,” I chuckle as he kisses the top of my head.

“I’d invite you over but I walked to get here.”

“You walked?” I asked incredulously, thinking of the unrelenting rain crashing over the city today.

“Yeah, it helps me clear my head….”

He doesn’t need to say anything more for me to understand, and another wave of guilt takes hold of me, but Richard reassures me with another kiss, this time on my cheek.

“My car is parked right around the corner,” I say in sudden realization, eager to escape the curious eyes of other customers in the bookshop.

“My place?” Richard suggests.

“Okay,” I reply shyly and let him lead me away.

***

I can hardly believe I’m standing in Richard’s house.

An awkward silence reigns over us as we take off our coats and boots, as though we have forgotten how to act around each other, but being here reminds me of all the happy memories we shared, and I feel the cracks in my heart start to heal. I’m here. Richard is here. Everything is slowly returning to how it should be.

The house is messier than I’m accustomed to; dirty dishes fill the sink, and a few bottles of wine and whiskey litter the counter. In the sitting room, cushions and throws lie haphazardly on the sofa while various glasses, books, and a half-eaten bag of crisps cover the coffee table.

“Sorry about the mess,” Richard says sheepishly, scratching the back of his head before rushing to clean up a little in a desperate attempt to cover the evidence of his heartbreak.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him with a shy smile. Messes like this stress me out, as Richard very well knows, but right now, I couldn’t care less. I only have eyes for him. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever come here again,” I admit in a low voice, my fingers digging into the flesh of my arms.

Hesitantly, he steps toward me, his eyes boring into my own as he says, “Let’s put it all behind us, okay?”

I nod and blink to chase away the tears clouding my vision. “And no more secrets.”

Richard smiles, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. “No more secrets.”

Nothing else needs to be said. With that promise, all the tension leaves our bodies, and when I smile in return, he pulls me into his arms. My body moulds itself to his, and wrapped in his most reassuring embrace, I feel at home. My eyes flutter close as I bury my head in his chest and breathe him in; I had almost forgotten what he smelled like, and now I simply can’t get enough of him. I can’t seem to be close enough to him even though no air remains between us, and I can hear his heart beating as though it’s my own. Slowly, I pull away just enough to meet his gaze, and understanding my intentions, Richard leans in to kiss me softly, his lips slowly melting with mine and his tongue lazily tangling with mine as he buries his hands in my hair. But the kiss soon becomes more heated, filled with barely contained longing and lust as neither of us can ignore our need for one another.

I clumsily move backwards, trying to pull him toward the stairs, but Richard has other plans. Without ever breaking the kiss, he stirs me toward the sitting room instead and lowers me onto the sofa, making sure that my head is comfortably propped against a cushion before he begins to explore my curves. His large hands rest on my waist, squeezing my skin through my jumper before moving higher until they rest just below my breasts, setting my skin on fire. Though we were only apart for two weeks, it feels like an eternity has passed since we were last intimate—since I last felt alive—and my body responds eagerly to his caresses. Already, I burn for him, and I can feel my arousal pooling between my thighs, begging for his attention.

After countless ardent kisses, Richard breaks the kiss to pull my cable knit jumper over my head. The cool air stains my skin with goosebumps, but the heat in his eyes warms me instantly, and when he presses a wet kiss on the exposed skin of my breasts just above my bra, I let out a desperate whimper that causes him to hold onto me more tightly. The rest of our clothes soon lie forgotten on the floor, and when he presses his naked body against mine, allowing me to feel the intensity of his desire against my upper thighs, sparks erupt along my spine.

“Oh, my darling girl,” Richard whispers hoarsely as he caresses every inch of my breasts before closing in on one tip, sending a wave of heat down to my core. “I was beginning to wonder if I had exaggerated your beauty in my mind.”

The tenderness with which he speaks these words speaks to feelings far beyond lust, and my heart swells with the depth of my love for him.

“Richard,” I whimper, but words are beyond my reach when he worships my body like this.

Burying my fingers in his hair, I hold him against me, encouraging him to continue his careful exploration of my body. He sucks on one of my beaded nipples with every hint of enjoyment and teases the other with his fingers until I can barely breathe, my longing for him reaching new heights. Then his kisses dip lower, along the inner curve of my breasts, then down my belly until he reaches my navel. He pauses to meet my gaze, and in his eyes, I see all my feelings reflected. Almost unconsciously, I reach out to hold his hand, intertwining our fingers and burying my other hand in his hair just as he scatters more kisses on my skin, and more heat spills from me.

Never tearing his eyes from mine, he spreads my legs further apart and buries his head between my thighs to press a kiss against my core. My responding moan echoes through the room, hanging in the air above us as a testament to our shared passion. Then his tongue caresses me, tracing the length of my opening before reaching my clit. His beard is already soaked with the proof of my arousal when he pulls away slightly to say, “God, I missed your taste,” his rumbling voice laced with lust, before he returns to feast on me.

Arching under him, I rock my hips to heighten the pleasure he offers me so willingly and passionately, but as delightful as his tongue is against me, I crave more. I try to tell him as such between breathless moans, but Richard doesn’t need words to know exactly what I want—what I need . With one last swirl of his tongue against the most sensitive part of my body, he crawls back up so that we are eye to eye and cradles my face. As I trail my hands across his broad chest and caress the soft curls between his pectorals, I kiss him, tasting myself on his lips. Into the kiss, I pour everything I’m feeling; my remorse, my need, and most of all, my love, desperate to offer him the reassurance I failed to give him before.

Richard continues to kiss me as he reaches between our bodies to guide himself to me, and when his hardness meets my core, we both moan in relief. But then he stills.

“Ah, shit,” he groans, and I whine in frustration. “Wait here—condoms are upstairs.”

“No, it’s fine,” I hasten to say, slightly breathless as my whole body hums in anticipation. Richard frowns in confusion, so I add, “Timing wise it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, looking deep into my eyes.

“I’m absolutely sure,” I reassure him.

He hesitates for a moment more, but eventually, his ardent need takes over, and he meets me once more, and I wrap my legs around him as he enters me, filling me deliciously. With nothing separating us, I feel more connected to him than ever before, and by the raw, tender look in his eyes, I know he feels the same. When he is all the way in, he stills, letting me adjust to him and soak him in as he shelters me with his strong body. His lips hover over mine as we share our breath, savouring the feeling of being one once more, and only when I tentatively roll my hips does he give in to the temptation.

No more words are needed as our bodies speak for us. Richard thrusts once, twice, almost instantly finding the perfect angle, but his movements remain sensually slow, prolonging the pleasure we missed during our separation. Sighing and moaning into his neck, I follow his movements, abandoning myself to all the delicious sensations he stirs within me as I cling to him, my arms and legs wrapped around him. Nothing stands between us, and our hearts beat in unison as our bodies move as one. Our mutual sounds of passion fill the room, and as he groans my name in my ears while slamming his hips against mine, I feel overwhelmed by all the sensations filling my heart.

This is what I was afraid I had lost. Not just this blissful pleasure only he can give me, but the intimacy between us and the comfort that comes with it. In his arms, I’m home, and I know now that he is worth more to me than anything. And with that reassuring realization, I let myself go completely, my back arching as wave after wave of scalding pleasure consumes me. A few more thrusts, and he follows me over the edge, leaving us panting and clinging to each other.

After a while, our breathing slows down, but we remain wrapped in each other’s arms, savouring our closeness. No words are spoken, and now that the spontaneity of our passionate moment is over, I can sense a small uncertainty lingering between us, a certain shyness that hasn’t been there since our very first date. Richard presses a few lingering kisses on my cheeks before pulling away, then he stands to retrieve his briefs, offering me a glimpse at his muscular back and perfect bum. Desire stirs within me at the sight, but then he turns around and offers me a sweet smile.

“Do you want some tea?” he asks as he tucks my hair behind my ear, and the gentleness of his touch brings a smile to my lips.

“Sure.”

He doesn’t bother to put on the rest of his clothes before stepping into the kitchen to fill the kettle. I stay on the sofa, watching him intently, imprinting in my mind every single one of his movements; the way the muscles of his shoulders flex as he opens the cupboard to grab two cups, the way he scratches his beard as he waits for the water to boil. It’s such a simple, almost insignificant moment, yet I have never loved him as much as I do now.

Reaching for his discarded shirt, I pull it over my head and make my way toward him. He seems completely absorbed by his thoughts and doesn’t notice me until I wrap my arms around him from behind and squeeze him tight, pressing a kiss onto his spine. I hear him chuckle, then he spins around to return my embrace, one of his large hands holding the back of my head. We remain like this for a while, and I close my eyes as I listen to the steady beating of his heart. How I had missed that sound.

“Richard?”

“Hm.”

I hesitate slightly, but when I look up to meet his tender gaze, the words come to me easily. “I love you.”

Richard simply stares back at me, his mouth hanging open slightly. Then he smiles, and the look in his eyes shares his answer even before he manages to speak, his voice somewhat breathless as he cradles my face. “I love you, too.”

Our lips meet halfway in a soft kiss, and soon he lifts me into his arms and carries me to his bedroom, our tea completely forgotten on the counter as we lose ourselves in each other once more.

Tag list: @lathalea @linasofia @mcchiberry @fizzyxcustard @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @i-did-not-mean-to @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @enchantzz @myselfandfantasy @notlostgnome @laurfilijames @swoopswishsward @quiall321 @dianakc

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters or added to my tag list!

#richard armitage #richard armitage fanfic #richard armitage x oc #richard armitage x reader #richard armitage x you #professor au #office hours

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yourlocalfaerie · 2 years

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Some Oxford snowbaz date ideas. (I live here sometimes. I’d know)

the science museum

the ashmolean museum - it’s basically for art (they do brunch on the roof)

the museum of natural history

the storybook museum

botanical gardens

sometimes there’s a market on Broad Street

crazy golf (it’s called the Junkyard Golf Club and it’s insane)

picnic in university parks (uni parks)/ port meadow/ Christchurch meadow

punting (it’s boat stuff. I really can’t explain it better)

playhouse (a personal favourite, it’s cheap and the ones that are performed by students are rather good). There’s a large playhouse that fits a couple hundred and a small playhouse that fits 50 round the corner.

The Sheldonian theatre (that’s more opera/ orchestra type stuff than plays)

The “oldest” coffee shop in the UK or to spice things up, the “oldest” tea shop in the UK which is just across the road (Literally). I’m sceptical as to whether they are truly the oldest.

Bookshops (Waterstones, Blackwells) blackwells has a massive basement full of books, I love it. There’s also some smaller bookshops obviously.

Tour the historical prison ?? I’m running out of ideas.

There are ghost tours around the city but that’s just tourist stuff.

Magdalen Deer Park

There’s at least 2 board game cafes I know about.

(I shall keep thinking)

#snowbaz #Simon snow #baz pitch

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patrice-bergerons · 1 year

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Completely by chance I stumbled onto a performance of Verdi's Requiem at the Sheldonian Theatre in Oxford last night - and this will sound ridiculously dramatic but given who Morse is, are you doing it right if you aren't at least a little dramatic about the finale yourself? - but listening to it I felt that I needed a requiem...for this show, for Thursday and for Morse, and perhaps for all the other, personal things I've left ungrieved. I am so good at avoiding endings. But I feel oddly settled this morning and I don't know maybe there is something to be said for I will get over it I've just got to be dramatic first approach to life, and certainly to music.

#also the sheldonian is such an intimate venue #i thought my eardrums were going to burst during the terror of the judgement day parts of dies irae #but you need that sometimes i think? to face the terror head on #ahhh it was a spiritual experience #also when i say i avoid endings #it took me seven? years to watch the last ep of f.ringe??#so that i am watching tonights finale live is a major thing for me

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cr0ftisprocrastinating · 1 year

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The view as mentioned in Chapter 12 of Creep - Legal Rooftop Activity (plus crying)

“Everyone started to move, and Draco’s hand gripped her arm again, helpfully guiding her towards the roof. She let him.

“Even the sight of the spires from this angle wasn’t enough to break her out of it. Draco tugged her along to the end of the balcony, away from the other muggles. The day was perfect, a beautiful, sunny winter's morning. Her breath misted in front of her and she shivered slightly. Before she realised what was happening, Draco had draped his jumper over her back. She inhaled deeply, the smell of him grounding her slightly. She took another breath, looking out at the Sheldonian Theatre in front of them.”

#dramione #draco x hermione #dark academia #a03 fanfic #oxford #fanfic

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lorriloo1109 · 2 months

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SOCS SATURDAY. Photograph

My favourite photograph of all time is one that I have in a prominent place in my living room. It is one of me and my Dad taken just before I went into the Sheldonian Theatre to recieve my degree. I was still dressed just in my black suit and no gown and mortar board on. I was just me. And I had my Dad with me. That was special. My Mum refused to come but my Dad did and I will always remember,…

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econosurancee · 10 months

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What is the History of the Sanders Theatre?

Sanders Theatre is a revered institution in Cambridge, Massachusetts, known for its unique architectural style and illustrious history. This notable structure has not only been a hub for academic activities but has also witnessed a rich lineage of cultural events and performances.

Origins of Sanders Theatre

Built in 1875, Sanders Theatre was designed by the renowned architect Henry Hobson Richardson. The theater is part of the Memorial Hall at Harvard University, which was established to commemorate the Harvard graduates who sacrificed their lives in the American Civil War. Richardson designed the theater with a unique blend of American and European architectural styles, giving it a distinct, awe-inspiring appearance.

Architectural Significance

With a seating capacity of 1,166, Sanders Theatre is revered for its design that facilitates unimpaired sightlines and exceptional acoustics, making it a popular venue for concerts, lectures, and university ceremonies. Its design is said to be inspired by the Sheldonian Theatre, built by Christopher Wren at Oxford University, reflecting a combination of Romanesque and late Gothic influences.

Historical Highlights and Modern Usage

Sanders Theatre has served various functions throughout its existence. In the early years, it was a site for the Harvard community's crucial gatherings, such as commencement ceremonies and faculty meetings. It has seen the likes of Theodore Roosevelt, Martin Luther King Jr., and Winston Churchill, among others, give noteworthy speeches.

In modern times, the theater continues to host a variety of events, including Harvard's annual Christmas carol service, musical concerts, and the popular "Harvard Thinks Big" talk series.

Protection of Cultural Heritage with Professional Liability Insurance

Preserving such an iconic structure is a massive responsibility, and it's not without its risks. This is where Professional Liability Insurance in Cambridge plays a crucial role.

This type of insurance, often adopted by professionals entrusted with the upkeep of historic structures like Sanders Theatre, provides protection against potential claims arising from errors, omissions, or negligence in their professional services. It’s an important risk management strategy that professionals working in the conservation of Sanders Theatre might consider to safeguard against potential liabilities.

Visiting Sanders Theatre

Sanders Theatre is located in Cambridge, Massachusetts, at the heart of the Harvard University campus.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Sanders Theatre's history is steeped in academic pursuits, distinguished speakers, and an array of cultural events. Its rich past and continued relevance underscore the importance of structures like these in preserving cultural and historical narratives. And just like those responsible for its upkeep would secure Professional Liability Insurance in Cambridge, it's vital for us to safeguard and appreciate our historical treasures.

Origins of Sanders Theatre

Architectural Significance

Historical Highlights and Modern Usage

In modern times, the theater continues to host a variety of events, including Harvard's annual Christmas carol service, musical concerts, and the popular "Harvard Thinks Big" talk series.

Protection of Cultural Heritage with Professional Liability Insurance

Preserving such an iconic structure is a massive responsibility, and it's not without its risks. This is where Professional Liability Insurance in Cambridge plays a crucial role.

Visiting Sanders Theatre

Sanders Theatre is located in Cambridge, Massachusetts, at the heart of the Harvard University campus.

Conclusion

Econosurance Address: 125 Cambridgepark Dr. Suite 301, Cambridge, MA 02140, United States Phone: +16178642444 Website: https://econosurance.com/ Google business profile: https://goo.gl/maps/JVTwMwVyQyMxJjBV8

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