#me when i’m orla:

[katz-chow]

I saw your fic about you not liking Konig. But how? Your blog name is literally called @konigsblog

yo @konigsblog

this is so sad 😞 i’m my own person i promise!! i am a real person.

#katzspeaks #WHY IS THIS SO FUNNY TO ME #me when i’m orla: #man i wish #anyway check out orlas work #she’s queen

[unfortunate-arrow]

A Brief History of the Lynch & O’Donnell Families

Day 5: Oneshot for @kathrynalicemc’s Lineage Challenge

The Lynch Family

In 1612, with the British finally settling the area of Ireland known as Ulster, a Slytherin wizard by the name of Cathal Lynch began building a manor in a north-westerly costal corner of County Donegal, Ireland. It was a remote area, and Cathal cast a charm to make his manor appear as ruins to the muggles in the nearby villages. Upon finishing the manor, Cathal married a member of a prominent Irish pureblood family. From then on, the Lynch family kept out of the mainstream. They liked their privacy, but continued to make advantageous matches in marriage. They were also known for being mainly Slytherins with the occasional Ravenclaws and every century or so, one would be sorted into Hufflepuff or Gryffindor.

But, as time passed, the family began to splinter in viewpoints. The majority held the belief that muggles and muggleborns were inferior, but a minority disagreed. Duels became common at family gatherings as none seemed to have the sense not to attend gatherings at the manor. It was common to see siblings fight siblings, parents fight children, cousins fight cousins, and more.

However, none were as infamous as the 1897 duel. It was a chaotic affair, which had begun between brothers, and left Tadhg Lynch dead. No one ever confessed to casting the fatal spell and for nearly twenty-five years, the death was covered up as a tragic accident. Then, Tadhg’s twin brother, Cillian was arrested for the murder as the twins had publicly disdained one another. Cillian died in Azkaban in 1931, but maintained his innocence until the day he died. No one would ever discover the evidence to show that Cillian’s claim was, in fact, correct. 

Cillian had married Orla O’Rourke in an arranged marriage and together they had one son, Conor Ryan. Conor, who shares a name with his youngest grandson, broke the mold and was sorted into Hufflepuff. In fact, Conor broke the cycle of violence. He didn’t live in Lynch Manor and married a muggleborn named Ciara Mallon. Conor and Ciara had two children, a son named Doyle and a daughter named Ailis. While Doyle fit the mold of a traditional Lynch, Ailis broke it. She was a Ravenclaw, but she also married a muggleborn. 

The Lynch family merged with the O’Donnell family in 1962, when Ailis Ciara Lynch married muggleborn Seán Michael O’Donnell. This particular branch of the Lynch family would also end in 1998, with the death of Doyle Brannigan Lynch.

However, in another timeline, the Lynch family doesn’t end. Instead, it continues through the sons and grandsons of Oscar Theodore Lynch, the only son of Tadhg Oisín Lynch and Niamh Brigid Kelly.

The O’Donnell Family

Numerous muggle families with the surname O’Donnell have existed, particularly in County Donegal, where the surname was associated with the dominant ruling clan of a medieval and early modern Irish kingdom. However, this particular O’Donnell family truly began in 1835 with a Mr. John O’Donnell. The son of an Irish speaking farmer, John was ten-years-old when the Great Famine (or an Gorta Mor) hit. Despite the many departures and emigrations, John elected to remain in Ireland to help his ailing father. His father died when John was twelve, during the year known as Black ‘47. However, as John was primarily an Irish speaker and a Catholic, he struggled to find work after his father’s death and after selling the family farm. 

In 1868, John met a young woman named Bridget. He fell hard for her and a year later, they were married. John and Bridget had three children. Their eldest and only daughter, Sorcha lived three years. She fell fatally ill with influenza, which claimed her life in 1873. In addition, John and Bridget had two sons. The older boy was named Michael and he would pass away in 1910 from undiagnosed lung cancer. Their younger boy was named Jacob and he lived a long and fulfilled life, dying in 1947 at the age of 71.

Jacob fell in love with a woman named Mary. They had two sons. Their elder son, Eoin, was born in 1899 and passed away in 1920. Eoin had become involved in the Irish War of Independence and was killed by British soldiers during a train raid. Their younger son, Lorcan, was born in 1905. He was just fourteen when the war broke out and was forbidden to join the fighting. This edict was mostly enforced after Eoin’s death, as Jacob and Mary feared losing another son to the war. Despite this, the O’Donnells still openly supported Irish independence and were quite satisfied when the fighting ceased and the Irish Free State was established.

In 1925, while struggling financially and trying to find a job as a teacher, Lorcan decided to try his luck in Dublin. He found a low-paying position that was accompanied by housing and took it. This choice led him to meet his future wife, Rose Boyle. They were married in 1930 and moved back to Donegal in 1934. Lorcan and Rose faced difficulties in conceiving a child, so they were only able to have one child. Their son, Seán Michael O’Donnell, was born on June 30, 1936. 

In 1947, the O’Donnell family was informed that Seán had magic. So, Seán was sent to Hogwarts, where he was sorted into Ravenclaw. Eventually, he would become an auror before retiring in 1975, after the death of his beloved wife. Seán would also spend the 1975-76 school year as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. 

The O’Donnell family merged with the Lynch family in 1962, when Seán Michael O’Donnell married Ailis Ciara Lynch. This union resulted in five children: Cian Jacob O’Donnell [bachelor, 1965-2002], Ryan Michael O’Donnell [married to Penelope Dawn Haywood, 1973-?], Cara Róisín O’Donnell [married to Rowan Indu Khanna, 1973-?], Sara Ailis O’Donnell-Lee [married to Barnaby Abernathy O’Donnell-Lee, 1973-?], and Conor Lorcan O’Donnell [married to Ruth Abigail Lyman, 1973-?]. Seán and Ailis would later gain ten grandchildren, but would never be able to meet them as they both passed away when their children were young. 

#lineage challenge #the lynch family #the o’donnell family #hphl #hogwarts legacy #hphm #hogwarts mystery #hpma #magic awakened #my writing #this a repost (as the formatting had gotten fucked up) and a rewrite of an older piece that has been deleted #the top row is the hphl gang (the lynch twins & orla) ; the others are the hphm gen of the o’donnell family #okay… so the formatting is still a little fucked up #but even though it still irks me i’m not going to do another repost #(that one would probably be fucked up as well) #(there’s a double title if you’re viewing it when not signed in)

[polestargios]

not me getting to part four in midnight horizon where kantam and cohmac feel like something is wrong everywhere and completely forgetting about everything that happened in the fallen star

#sw #the high republic #the high republic spoilers #it literally all came back to me like a frickin flood bro #immediately sad #they have no idea what’s happening on starlight and idk if i’m ready for them to find out #i’m not emotionally prepared to read another perspective of that #and when cohmac finds out about orla oof

[konigsblog]

Orla so..i saw this imagine on twitter from chrissdd and all imma say is..

I’m going feral over this.. like i nutted so much when i saw this🥹

this is a late response, BUT OHMYGOD ... 😮‍💨🤭 who's the artist? i'm curious... thank you for showing me this, my dear :33 !!!! 💐🌷💗

[kneelingshadowsalome]

i'm not sure if that's true but i've seen somewhere that bunnies can symbolise fake innocence so...,.,.. (also im so sorry this is so long :,))) )

idk maybe just the image of women in könig's head seems to be something similar? they're sweet and helpless and need someone bigger to protect them. in that way they hold more power - no one ever assumes that a woman could be cruel or downright evil.

and so does könig, even though it's almost a conscious choice to him. he'll let women use him and manipulate him so long as he gets the privilege of being approached by them first despite being visibly much bigger and stronger. and that also being exactly the same as people feeling special when someone's pet likes them, especially cats (usually very distant and seemingly unaffectionate) or bunnies (again, easily scared and also distant in their own way) 🥲

(and speaking of this. i keep thinking about an au where. idk how but reader and köni simply go to the same church (possibly with their families) and he sees her as this sweet innocent girl and their families know each other so well and his parents love her but she turns out to be the one who shows him that sex outside of marriage is actually very fun and so is witchcraft lmao 😭 im sorry)

I’m so into the whole bunny thing, esp after what Orla & Syl (@/konigsblog and @/comfortless) just posted…….

I'm 110% sure that König gets both protective and predatory over someone (seemingly) innocent and meek, he's drawn to her like a bee to honey. His mind and soul and hands are so dirty that he seeks redemption through protecting this adorable little woman who reminds him of a helpless pet. He wants to feed and protect and stroke her, make her love him and only him, with her, he becomes the epitome of a pick me boy. He just wants her to be his little bunny girl, let him scratch her from behind the ear or some place else...

And our shy but endearing bunny babe doesn’t dare to tell this big, affectionate giant that he’s trying to make it look like she’s the dumb, clueless one in this scenario when in reality, König is the one who’s on a leash here... Poor guy! With every little wink of her imaginary tail, she gets him to do whatever she wants: manipulating this big dork is laughably easy. Not that she wants him harm, but who wouldn’t want to play cat and mouse with someone who’s basically asking for it? She can provide him the rush of the chase he so seeks, just a small bite of her lip makes this poor man hot and bothered already.

König always apologizes for getting carried away, for being a little too rough with her when he kisses her raw and gets a little handsy. He doesn’t want to seem demanding or coercive: but she’s just so sweet that he can’t take it… He's about to cry and wank and crumble during his pathetic confessions to her, only she can grant him mercy, always being so lenient with his heated advances. He's just a weak man, she's too good for him, bla bla bla – she pets his head while he sighs in her tits, hard again after just cuddling her.

They have to wait until marriage, that's what he always pants when hovering above her, so hard she can feel his whole cock through her dress. She’s going to make a grown man cry soon with those vein-popping boners she gives him, and the hardest part is to stifle her giggles at how easy it is to tease this poor guy... König doesn’t even know that she’s not that innocent, far from a virgin actually with how she’s fantasizing about him every night with her 6” dong with suction cup. One time he almost caught her playing with herself when he came rushing back to her room after forgetting some godforsaken book there...

#torturing könig #again! yay! #it's like free therapy #könig x “christian” bunny girl #answered

[vapolis]

Hey, I just saw the ask about why Jax is closer to Orla than the MC. It made me think about a post I saw somewhere (I’m too lazy to track it down, sorry) about the difference between a guard dog and an attack dog. The big one being that a guard dog is inside, a part of the family. An attack dog is barely above a weapon, and is kept outside and mean.

I see the vision and agree!! since reading that post, I've thought about it a lot and how Jax and the merc have parallel paths in a way. the difference being one has been treated with care and respect, given the role he plays, and the other has been left to fend for themself and be useful when needed.

#asks #c: jax #c: mc

[agaypanic]

The Fella Part 9 (James Maguire X Quinn!Reader)

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Summary: The girls have been waiting for months to see Take That in Belfast. When a polar bear is on the loose and Mary forbids them from going, they have to take matters into their own hands.

A/N: only took a million years but i finally wrote a new part lol BIG thanks to @crumpets-are-better-with-jam for writing out the episode’s script for me, without them I probably would’ve never found the time to be able to write this. Also the word g*psy is censored and used as little as possible because it’s considered a slur but some say that if you say it with the right context it’s ok, but i don’t wanna take any chances, you know?

***

The weekends were always the best part of the week for Y/n. No school or work, no obligations except for church on Sunday, and being able to sleep in late. Y/n wished to be an adult, so her life could be like this every day.

But this was going to be the weekend of all weekends. Months ago, the girls and James scrimped and saved every coin and bill and were able to buy concert tickets to see Take That in Belfast. And today was the day of the concert. The girls sat all squished together on the couch, watching said band on the TV, with James perched on the arm of the sofa, subtly clinging to Y/n. Their relationship was still a secret somehow, today marking their third month together. They were honestly surprised nobody noticed how their affection was more than friendly.

“God Almighty.” Grandpa Joe spoke in horror, glaring at the screen. “I don’t know what the world is coming to. Bloody perverts.”

“You’re overreacting, Da,” Mary said from the kitchen. Joe scoffed in disbelief.

“Overreacting? That lad’s got no trousers on, for Christ’s sake.” Michelle grinned at the detail that had been pointed out.

“He’s wearing too much still, if I’ve anything to say about it.” She muttered to the girls, who giggled apart from James and Clare.

“Why do they keep touching themselves?” Grandpa Joe asked the telly, as if it would provide any answers.

“‘Cause they’re artists, Granda,” Erin said, but he just grumbled.

“Dirty English bastards is what they are.” He turned to look at James. “No offense, son.” Although he didn’t really sound like he cared whether or not he had offended the boy. Y/n patted James’ thigh in comfort as the scene on the TV changed from the girls’ beloved boy band to a news anchor. 

“Come on, girls. Time to hit the road here.” Gerry announced as he came in. He gestured at James. “Have they roped you into going as well, son?” Y/n laughed, leaning against James to look at her father.

“Hardly. He’s practically riding Gary Barlow. Aren’t ya, Jamie?” He rolled his eyes at the statement, as if they had had this kind of conversation a hundred times.

“I’m not! I just respect him as a songwriter, that’s all.” Michelle rolled her eyes at him, as if she had also had this kind of conversation a hundred times.

“Aye, dead on, James, so you do.”

“Will we need our passports, Gerry?” Orla asked, giving her lungs a break from blowing on her mother’s spray tan.

“For Belfast? I don’t think so, Love.”

“Belfast?” Joe asked, but was ignored.

“Are we not a bit early, Daddy?” Erin asked, checking the time on the wall.

“It’s a two-hour drive with traffic, love.”

“This thing’s in Belfast?” Sick of not being acknowledged, Grandpa Joe stood from his favorite chair to stand with the girls and Gerry.

“Da, it’s eight hours till the doors open,” Y/n said, almost laughing at her father’s sense of urgency.

“I know. We’re cutting it fine.” He seemed completely serious about the matter, which just made Y/n want to laugh more.

“Belfast?” Joe said again, now effectively catching the room’s attention. “Sure, why didn’t you just sell the wains into white slavery and be done with it?”

“Gerry will be with them, Da.” Mary tried to reason, but that just seemed to set him off even more.

“Well, that’s worse. Sure, they hate his kind there.”

“My kind?” Gerry asked, not knowing what Joe could possibly be talking about.

“Pricks.” Y/n laughed, shrinking in her seat when Gerry whipped around to look at his daughter in offense. “Sorry, Daddy.”

“That is enough!” Mary finalized, still working in the kitchen. “They’re going to the concert, Da, and that’s the end of the matter.”

The news switched to another topic again. Something about how a polar bear escaped from Belfast Zoo. Hearing the name, Y/n started to worry.

“Now, will you see sense?” Grandpa Joe asked his daughter, pointing at the TV. Erin snorted.

“Aye, Granda, ‘cause an escaped polar bear’s gonna track us down and kill us. As if Mammy’s bothered by that.” There was a beat of silence, and suddenly, all the girls were panicked.

“Wise up, Mammy!” Y/n squealed frantically, shooting up from her seat on the couch to get a good look at her mother. “As if a polar bear’s gonna rock up a Take That concert!”

“He wouldn’t get a ticket for a start,” Orla added. “They sold out months ago.”

“You’d be surprised, girls,” Mary said.

“The concert’s nowhere near the zoo.” Gerry tried to reason. As usual, Joe countered him.

“But he’s not in the zoo anymore, is he, Simple Simon? He’s sauntering about Belfast without a care in the world!”

“Aye, keep up, Gerry,” Sarah said, blowing on the wet tan that coated her fingers. 

“What I’m saying is that it would be quite a lot of ground for him to cover.”

“They’re quick on their feet when they wanna be, love,” Mary said. Y/n sped to her father, grabbing him by the shoulders to make him face her.

“Daddy, please, don’t listen to her.” She pleaded. “We should go now so we’re not late. Please, Da!” Gerry put his hands on his daughter’s wrists, rubbing his thumbs over the joints while giving her a sympathetic look.

“Oh, love, I’m sorry, but I’d rather keep my head.”

“Come on, Mary.” Michelle pleaded with the girl’s mother. “If you don’t let Y/n and Erin go, then our ma’s won’t let us go.”

“Well, neither they should, and I’ll be ringing them to say as much.” The teens looked at Mary in despair as she went to the phone, likely to ring everyone’s mothers. While dialing, Mary looked back to the living room. “Look, girls, I know how much you were looking forward to seeing This and That.”

“Take That.” Erin corrected.

“But there’ll be other concerts.” Y/n laughed humorlessly, resting her head on her father’s shoulder momentarily before letting go of him completely. 

“No, there won’t.” She felt hysterical. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Months of looking forward to this concert just to be banned by her mother because of a polar bear. Only something like this would happen to her. “The fact that this one’s happening is a miracle ‘cause no one good comes here ‘cause we all keep killing each other!” James shifted on the arm of the couch to make room for Y/n to sit next to him. He rubbed her back as she leaned against him for support, devastated.

“And now we’re overrun with polar bears.” Sarah sighed, pulling out a cig.

Frustrated, Y/n stormed up to her room, the girls and James close behind. They had found her face down on her bed, screaming into a pillow. James sat beside her, pulling the pillow out of her grasp before she could suffocate herself. While everyone settled in Y/n’s room, she rested her head on James’ thigh. Her anger and sadness were slowly washing away from James rubbing her back.

“This is so fucking unfair.” She muttered.

“I know,” James responded, brushing hair out of her face.

“Well, I dunno about you lot, but I’m not letting that fat furry fuck ruin the biggest day of my life,” Michelle announced harshly, pacing the floor.

“What can we do?” Erin asked, lying across her sister’s legs.

“Right, listen, girls.” Michelle drew their attention. They hoped that she had come up with a plan to save the day, but were quickly let down. “I’ve never told anyone this before, but… sometimes, when Robbie’s being interviewed, it’s like he’s sending me messages through the TV. You know, like telepathically or whatever, It’s like he’s saying…” She sighed, clearly in a dreamy daze. “We’re meant to be together.”

Everyone stared at her.

“Aye, maybe don’t tell that to anyone again, Michelle,” Erin said. “Ever.”

“I think she might be more cracked than Orla,” Y/n muttered to James, who snorted.

“What?” Orla looked at Y/n after hearing her name.

“Nothing, love.”

“Look, this is too important,” Michelle said. “I’m going to that concert. I’m not afraid of a fucking polar bear!” Everyone enthusiastically agreed. They shouldn’t pay mind to a random bear or what their parents have to say about anything. Nothing would stop the girls and James from seeing Take That.

“I’ll kill it with me own two hands, if I have to.” Orla declared. 

“Bring it on!” Erin egged on.

“Okay. We seem to have gone down a weird road here, people. I think we just got a bit confused.” Ever the realist and anxiety-riddled girl, Clare tried stopping her friends from the odd discussion. “We don’t actually have to fight a polar bear, and if we did, I wouldn’t fancy our chances because, well, they’re massive.” Orla looked around, confused.

“But there’s six of us.”

“Aye, I think we’d have a real chance,” Y/n said, albeit slightly sarcastically.

“The point is, the polar bear’s not the one stopping us from going to the concert. It’s our mothers, and we’ll never get them to change their minds.” Y/n gasped, sitting up suddenly, seeming to have an idea.

“So we fight Mammy.”

“No, definitely not.” James shot down the idea immediately and welcomed his once again pouty girlfriend to rest in his lap. Michelle leaned toward the group like she was gonna tell them a secret.

“We’re not gonna try and change their minds.” She smirked, and everyone became slightly fearful because Michelle always had less than bright ideas that she’d have them execute. “We’re gonna do something else.” 

“What?” James asked.

***

“I’m still trying to figure out whether or not this is a good idea,” Y/n muttered to James, who she clung to while sitting on his lap. Michelle had somehow convinced everyone to sneak away and get on a bus to Belfast. The group sat in the back of the bus to avoid anyone who may be suspicious of six teenagers traveling by themselves. There wasn’t enough seating for all six of them to sit together, so everyone squished together, and Y/n sat on James’ lap. No one said anything about it besides the comment from Michelle about how James must be giddy to be so close to a girl. He told her to fuck off.

“Same here.” He sighed, hands gripping her closer as the bus crossed a few bumps on the road.

“We’re gonna get caught; I just know it,” Clare said anxiously to the group.

“We’re not gonna get caught, Clare, because as far as our ma’s are concerned, me, you, and James are ’round Erin’s, and Erin, Y/n, and Orla are ’round mine,” Michelle explained, trying to calm Clare down.

“But we’re not ’round yours, Michelle,” Orla responded, confused. “We’re on the bus to Belfast.” 

“Christ.” Y/n rolled her eyes, having heard her cousin say this multiple times since they left the house.

“I cannot explain it to her again. I’m gonna scream.” Michelle looked away from Orla, probably because she would strangle her if she had to deal with the confusion for another second.

“What’s in the suitcase, Michelle?” James asked, staring at the case his cousin had set on the remaining seat near the group. Y/n could’ve sat there, but Michelle wanted a close eye on whatever was in the suitcase without holding it in case they got caught. Everyone stared, curiously waiting for an answer. There was a beat of silence.

“Vodka.” You brought an entire suitcase full of vodka?” Erin asked incredulously.

“Jesus, Michelle, you’ve got a problem,” Y/n added.

“No. There’s mixers as well. I’m not a savage.” Michelle took a second to think, looking down at the case. “You can mix vodka with cider, right?”

“God, I am boiling.” Clare sighed, fanning her face.

“Gee, I wonder why, Clare.” Y/n laughed, looking at her friend who was completely bundled in jackets and scarves.

“What are you wearing?” Erin asked.

“Yeah, you look like a fucking Provo.”

“I don’t want anyone recognizing me, okay?” The bus paused its venture, opening the doors for people to come in and out.

“No one’s gonna recognize you, Clare.” Michelle chastised.

“Clare Devlin, is that you?” Panic ran through everyone. The voice sounded very familiar and fear-inducing. The girls looked towards the front. Sister Michael was moving past the seats and right for them.

“Jesus Christ.” Clare squeaked, trying to hide in her mountain of clothes. Erin leaned into her.

“Relax, Clare.” She said. “She has no authority over us at the weekend. She has no right to question us, and if she tries to, I’ll tell her as much.”

“Aye, I’d like to see you try, Erin.” Y/n hissed to her sister before Sister Michael reached the group.

“Morning, girls.” She said.

“Morning, Sister Michael.” Everyone said in unison.

“What takes you to Belfast?” There was a heavy pause. The girls were silently trying to decide who would speak and what they would say. Erin volunteered herself, speaking quietly from nervousness.

“I’m not really sure that’s-”

“Speak up.” Sister Michael interrupted her. Erin gulped.

“I’m not really sure that that’s any of your business…” Sister Michael stared blankly at her. Everyone waited for her to jump and murder Erin for saying such a thing. Soon, she found words.

“I’m going to assume that was an ill-judged attempt at humor, Miss Quinn.”

“Yes,” Erin whispered, sinking into her seat. Y/n silently prayed that the bus would start moving so Sister Michael would be forced to leave and find a seat somewhere. But God never seemed too kind to the girls.

“Now, answer the question.”

“... We’re going to the museum.” Erin devised a good lie; the girls just hoped they could keep up with the inevitable follow-up questions.

“Which museum?”

“Ulster Museum,” Clare answered.

“What for?”

“A project,” James responded.

“A history project.” Y/n amended. Sister Michael looked at the two. It seemed like she was about to ask why Y/n was in James’ lap, but she decided against it, not wanting to go through the trouble.

“What about?”

“Ulster,” Erin answered once again. Sister Michael gave an unconvinced hum and turned around to find a place to sit. Everyone sighed in relief as the bus started to move again.

“A history project,” Clare said in disbelief. “This web of lies we’re spinning is getting out of control now, girls.” Y/n put a hand on her friend’s shoulder to take her attention.

“If it makes you feel any better, Clare, I actually have a history project due soon.”

“I thought we finished that,” James said quietly to her. She turned to him.

“Yeah, but now I’ve gotta put it all together.”

“It’s grand, Clare,” Michelle said, rolling her eyes at Clare’s constant anxiousness. “I think she bought it.”

“Of course, she didn’t buy it. She’s onto us, I’m telling you. Oh God, I’m sweltering here.”

“Then take it off,” Erin said.

“I can’t take it off; I’ve nothing underneath it.” Everyone paused, looking at her confused.

“What, not even a bra?” Erin asked.

“Jesus, Clare, you’ve no bra on?” Michelle asked incredulously.

“I haven’t got a bra on,” Orla commented.

“Aye, me neither,” Y/n said.

“What?” James practically choked. Suddenly aware of his girlfriend’s body and this new information, he moved his hands down to sit at her hips. Y/n shrugged.

“They dig.”

“What’s she doing now?” Clare asked, and everyone looked at Sister Michael, who sat a few rows ahead of them. She was reading a book, laughing every now and then.

“Reading her book,” James answered, as if they all couldn’t see it. She suddenly turned to the woman in the seat next to her. She had a look of disgust while the woman ate a sandwich. “Now she’s looking at the woman beside her.” Sister Michael stood from her seat. “Now she’s getting up.” She moved towards the back of the bus, closing in on the girls. “Now she’s coming this way.” Soon enough, Sister Michael stood before the group, staring at them. “Now she’s standing right in front of us.”

“What’s he doing?” Sister Michael asked, looking weirdly at James.

“Now she’s-” James’ words were halted by Y/n putting a finger to his lips.

“Stop narrating, Jamie.”

“I want to sit here.” Sister Michael said with finality, pointing to where Michelle’s suitcase sat. Michelle started to panic.

“What? Why?”

“Well, you’re just such wonderful company, girls, what with your stimulating conversation and razor-sharp wit.” Everyone knew she was being sarcastic. Except for Erin.

“Really?” She asked, seemingly flattered. Sister Michael rolled her eyes.

“No, not really. The woman next to me is eating an egg and onion sandwich, and the smell is enough to turn an Orange March.” The girls cringed at the description. Sister Michael grabbed the suitcase, trying to move it. But she was evidently struggling. “Christ, but this is heavy.”

“Sister, no, let me,” Michelle said, leaning over to grab the case.

“What do you have in here, girls?”

“It’s not ours!” Clare quickly responded with a shriek. Everyone glared at her lie.

“Not yours?”

“We have never seen it before in our lives, have we, girls?” It was better to just agree, so that’s what the girls did. They nodded, giving different mutters of confirmation. 

Sister Michael turned to look at everyone else on the bus.

“Excuse me, everyone. Can I have your attention, please?” She raised her voice to get everyone to listen. Confused, the passengers looked at her while she pointed to Michelle’s suitcase. “Does anyone own this red suitcase?” No one claimed it. “Now, let me be clear. No one can claim this bag, is that correct?” Everyone confirmed her question. She looked down at the suitcase. “I think we have a Code Red on our hands. Driver, pull over!”

***

The girls were definitely fucked. Everyone had to evacuate the bus while they waited for the military to come and extract the suitcase. Now, a crowd watched as a military robot examined the case.

“Jesus Christ!” Clare squeaked in a panic.

“Aye, this isn’t great,” Erin said, watching the commotion. Michelle shrugged.

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“They’re about to blow up an entire suitcase of vodka, Michelle.” 

As Michelle and Erin quietly argued, Y/n leaned into James’ ear.

“And here I thought Clare’s paranoia would be our biggest problem.” James rested his head on Y/n’s, eyeing the situation in front of him in disbelief.

“Why is this place so mental?” He asked. Michelle scoffed.

“That’s enough, James. You have serious fucking anger management issues. Do you know that?” Before anyone could give a rebuttal, there was an explosion. The robot had successfully eliminated the threat in the red suitcase, which was the girls’ ticket to a good time.

There were lots of talks among the soldiers over the radio. The girls silently celebrated when one said they could pack everything up. Soon enough, they’d be back on the way to Belfast.

“Powerful smell of vodka down here, over.” The girls froze in their places as they heard the soldier over the radio. God really did seem to have it out for the teens.

“Vodka, did he say?” Sister Michael asked, slowly turning to her students. “Interesting.” The girls gave her nervous smiles. Suddenly, Y/n pointed over Sister Michael’s shoulder.

“Oh my God, Sister! What’s over there?!” Sister Michael whipped around, and Y/n made a break for it. All of her friends followed after her. 

They ran like hell, not knowing where they were going. After a while of wandering around, they slowed to a walk down a dirt road, all trying to catch their breath. The girls debated whether or not they could reach Belfast on foot, especially with that polar bear on the loose. But the conversation dwindled as some men came into view on the side of the road.

“Is it just me, or is that g*psy an absolute ride?”

“As usual, I think it’s just you, Michelle,” Y/n said, groaning at her sore legs.

“Michelle, you cannot say that.” Erin scolded.

“What?”

“They’re called ‘travelers now. Y’can’t say ‘g*psy’ anymore. It’s insulting.”

“Okay, but you just said it, Erin.” Y/n pointed out. Michelle and Erin continued arguing over the correct word to use for the men. It continued for a while, and only stopped when they had gotten closer to the men.

“Howya, girls.” One of them said, with a bit of a slurred speech. The girls politely greeted him and continued walking. They got a few feet past them when the one who greeted them started calling after them. “Hey, hold on.”

“What does he want?” Clare asked in a panic.

“I don’t know,” Erin replied, just as nervous.

“I’m talking to you!” The man shouted. The girls ignored him, but he kept walking after them. “Hey, are you deaf or what?”

“Just keep going.” Y/n urged her friends, grabbing James’ hand to yank him along while she pushed her tired body to go faster. The teens started walking more quickly, and soon enough, the shouting man and his friends were all tailing after them. 

“Get back here!”

“Faster. Walk faster.”

“Am I gonna have to come after you, am I?”

“Jesus Christ, he’s following us,” James muttered, now being the one to pull Y/n further.

“Run!” Y/n yelped, breaking into a sprint and out of James’ grip because the sudden change in pace had caught him off guard. Everyone ran after her, the teens to catch up with Y/n and the travelers to catch up with the teens. The girls were terrified, except for Orla, of course, who could always find the fun in a fucked up situation.

“Piss off!” Erin went to the edge of the dirt road and came back to the strange men waving a giant stick around. They backed up in alarm, and the girls stopped to stand behind Erin.

Except for Y/n, who was still running like hell. James yelled for her, but she couldn’t hear him over the thumping of her feet and heart. She didn’t even notice that her friends had all been left in the dust behind her.

“Jesus fuck!” Y/n screeched when she was grabbed suddenly by the shoulders and yanked back into someone’s chest. The person who caught her breathed heavily, slightly using her as a crutch. Y/n immediately recognized the whines and groans of exhaustion and smacked the man in the arm. “Scared the fuck out of me, James.”

“I know, ‘m sorry.” James brought her closer to him, back pressed against his chest as he rubbed her arms up and down to comfort her. “Can’t run off like that, love. Could’ve lost you.”

“Sorry.” She apologized sheepishly, and James kissed her head to show she shouldn’t be. When the couple regained strength, they turned around and started walking back to the group that was currently arguing with the strange couple of men when they abruptly ran to the side of the dirt road. A van sped past them as if they weren’t even there, honking the horn and stopping in front of the stand-off of travelers and teenage girls. Y/n and James hesitantly watched, not knowing what was happening.

Soon, Erin stuck her head out from behind the van so her sister was in her view. She waved her over frantically.

“Y/n, come on!” Erin then disappeared, likely into the strange van. Knowing everyone else was probably in there, and not wanting to be left stranded, Y/n broke out into another sprint, leaving James in the dust once again.

“Not again.” He mumbled.

***

When Y/n had snuck away from her family and hopped on a bus to Belfast with her friends, she obviously didn’t expect the bus plan to go to shit, and she and her buddies would be riding around in someone’s van. Yet here she was, jostling around in the back, surrounded by half-assed Take That shirts. Erin was trying to converse with the driver; Rita was apparently her name. Meanwhile, Michelle hogged a cardboard cut-out of Robbie Williams, and Clare and Orla were sifting through all the different merchandise.

“Robie?” Clare said to herself as she held up one of the shirts to look at before frantically digging through the rest of the boxes. In the driver’s seat, Rita seemed to have some type of drunken meltdown. Clare turned to Y/n, panicked like always. “Y/n, what are we gonna do?”

“Pray.”

“She’s spelt ‘Robbie’ wrong on every single t-shirt.”

“Huh?” 

“How are we gonna break it to her?” Y/n snorted. That was not what she expected her dear friend to be worried about.

“Clare, we’re being driven around by some crazy tipsy woman, and I bet she doesn’t even know which direction Belfast is in. And yet you’re worried about a spelling mistake?”

“I find it disturbing.”

“I find your priorities disturbing.” Rita continued talking in her drunken, weepy state, leading to another discussion between Erin and Michelle about the correct label to use for the intimidating men they had run into.

But everything was cut short by the van ramming into something, causing everyone to jerk forward. There was a moment of silence as everyone tried to figure out what had just happened.

“Jesus Christ.” Michelle groaned, rubbing her head as she sat up.

“What was that?” Erin asked no one in particular.

“Did we hit something?” 

Orla opened the sliding door of the van and stuck her head out. Everyone heard a gasp of both surprise and delight.

“Oh my God, it’s the polar bear!” The sentence made everyone, excluding Rita, who smoked her cigarette in the driver’s seat, jump out of the van and surround the body. 

“Orla, this is not a bloody polar bear.” Y/n sneered, looking down at the dead sheep that lay before her feet. Everyone slowly looked over at her.

“You’re soundin’ like James,” Michelle said in slight disgust.

“Shut up.”

“Get it shifted, girls!” Rita commanded from the van, taking another drag. Reluctantly, the girls grabbed the sheep carcass and tried carrying it to the side of the road to clear their path. There was a lot more struggling than they intended.

“Why’s it so heavy?” Erin said with a strained voice. “Aren’t they meant to be ninety percent wool?”

“Just put your back into it. The sooner this is done, the sooner we’re back in the van and on our way to see Robbie.”

“Shut it about Robbie, Michelle!” Y/n groaned, trying to pull the sheep. There was much more arguing, and after a very short while, the girls decided they were officially over this task.

“Fuck this!” Michelle shouted. “Let’s just make James do it, the lazy bastard!” Everyone dropped the sheep on the ground and waited for James to do all the work.

But he never did. It was just the girls on an empty road with a dead sheep and a crazy woman. 

“Wh… Where is James?” Clare asked, looking around, hoping he’d suddenly pop out of a bush or something. 

Y/n thought long and hard. She might have been the last one to be with James. Backtracking to her last known moments with James, Y/n gasped and raised a hand to her mouth. The girls looked at her expectantly, waiting to find out where he was. Her response was an embarrassed and horrified whisper.

“I left him with the travelers.”

***

It took much persuasion, mainly for Michelle, but the girls had gotten Rita to go back for James. It was primarily the revelation that James was the one who had the concert tickets. After a long drive, the van skidded to a stop in front of the traveler’s stands of vegetables and fruits. James was among the men, helping them. Y/n yanked the van door open, relieved that her boyfriend hadn’t been mugged or stranded or something else of the sort.

“James!” She yelled in delight, immediately catching his attention. He grinned but stayed stuck in his place.

“What are you playing at? Get in the van, fucko.” Michelle commanded, less thrilled to see James than Y/n was. The man who first chased the girls put a hand on James’ shoulder.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, James.”

“With all due respect, this has nothing to do with you.”

“Yeah!” Y/n added, desperately waiting for her boyfriend to get into the van.

“The way you treat this fella, it’s disgraceful.” The traveler reprimanded.

“Fucking excuse me?” Y/n felt beyond insulted.

“What’s going on, James?” Michelle asked.

“Jonjo and the lads…” James looked at said lads with a smile. “They just get me. And it turns out, I’m a really good salesman.”

“He’s a natural,” Jonjo said.

“So, what, you’re a g*psy now?” Michelle asked, clearly thinking this was an unfunny prank.

“Traveler.” Erin and Y/n corrected in unison, Erin louder than her sister.

“Actually, g*psy’s fine,” Jonjo said. Michelle smirked, finally being able to prove to Erin that she was right. Rita yelled at everyone to hurry up, and Michelle nodded.

“Right, get in the van, come on. And do not test me ’cause we’ve already missed PJ and Duncan.”

“Is that who was supporting them?” Clare asked. When confirmed, she pouted. “Oh, I really like them!”

“I’m not leaving, Michelle,” James said with finality.

Y/n sighed, stepping out of the van. The tense gaze James had for his cousin softened when his girlfriend walked up to him.

“Not even for Gary Barlow, Jamie?” Y/n knew she made the right move because now James looked unsure of himself.

“I don’t really rate him as a, as a songwriter, y’know?” Jonjo said. The horrified look James suddenly had painted on his face made Y/n smile, both because she knew that the girls would now be leaving with him and because he looked so adorable. 

James took off his fanny pack and handed it to Jonjo in disappointment, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m sorry, Jonjo, but you’ve just crossed the line there.” 

Y/n wrapped an arm around James’ back and guided his sad self to the van, where the door was just behind them. She brought him to the back of the van so he could mope a bit in peace. The girls all talked excitedly amongst themselves about the concert.

“I’m sorry I stranded you,” Y/n said quietly, moving her hand down James’ back to squeeze his hand. He squeezed it back and smiled softly down at her.

“I’m just glad you came back.”

“Of course, I came back. You have the concert tickets.” James shoved Y/n away and couldn’t hide the growing grin from hearing her laugh. “Kidding, kidding.”

After a long drive, long lines, and a big fight to get to the barricade, the Derry girls were finally able to enjoy Take That in all its glory. They screamed the lyrics, jumped to the beat, and danced all together in excitement. They didn’t care about the consequences when they would get home to their parents, who were probably worried sick. They didn’t worry about how they’d get home that night. All that mattered was that they were currently in the presence of one of their favorite bands of all time.

Somewhere in the middle of the set, the excitement winded down a bit as a piano intro played. Y/n squealed, tugging on James’ sleeve, as she recognized what was dubbed as her and James’ song, A Million Love Songs. James grinned at her excitement.

“Oh my God! I have something for you!” Y/n exclaimed over the music, digging around in her pockets. James looked down curiously as she brought out a folded piece of paper. “If it’s bad, you’re not allowed to make fun of me.”

“What is it?” James leaned down so he was closer to eye level with Y/n, making her blush. She pinched the edge of the paper, creasing it a bit.

“Do you remember when Erin became magazine editor, and we were going through those essays and… and Michelle found mine?” James nodded, remembering the day clearly because he was devastated when he heard the title of her little essay. “Well, I figured, since it’s our third month together and all… I wanted to give it to you.” He was gentle when taking the paper from her, so incredibly curious about what she had written. “Especially since my fancy isn’t so one-sided as I thought.”

All Y/n could focus on was the beautiful song in the background and the beautiful boy in front of her, reading words that had come straight from her heart when she thought her love for James was just a hopeless crush. She didn’t know if it was a good sign, seeing him become more flustered and blushy as he read on. When he was finished, he slowly and carefully folded the paper back up while Take That started to play a more energetic song.

“Again, you can’t make fun of me if it’s bad!” Y/n shouted over the noise. “I know Erin’s the writer or whatever, but- oof!” She was interrupted by James pulling her to his chest, arms wrapped tight around her and face buried in the crook of her neck. She immediately returned the affections. 

“It’s amazing.” He said in her ear. “Amazing, and lovely, and perfect. Just like the girl who wrote it.” Unable to help herself, Y/n brought James’ face to hers and kissed him with such passion, a passion he reciprocated instantly. It was as if it was only them existing at that moment.

Of course, it wasn’t. Clare would later tease and squeal at the two and interrogate them about when they had finally gotten together and why they didn’t tell her. Too enamored with the men just feet away from them, the rest of the girls didn’t even notice the couple.

And somewhere in Derry, while the rest of her family was fighting, Y/n’s father Gerry smiled fondly at his television where he saw his daughter having the time of her life at a Take That concert with her best friends and boyfriend. A boyfriend he’d absolutely be asking her about in private when he had the chance.

~~~

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[shelbystales]

Ceramic Lessons - Part one

Cillian Murphy X Reader - Masterlist

Summary: after much insistence from his sister, Cillian attends a ceramics class with her. To his surprise, he feels a connection to the teacher, you. Will this connection go any further or will it be smashed like a bad ceramic project?

Warning: nothing so far, this is a slow chapter.

A/N: this is my first time writing for Cillian, so a small reminder that this has nothing to do with his real life. I’m not sure where this is goin or if it is going anywhere but here it is. I`ve been going to some ceramic classes myself and let me tell you… it`s sexy as fuuuck.

English is my second language, so I apologize in advance for any grammar mistake

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Cillian never imagined himself stepping into a ceramic studio on a Saturday morning. He was convinced to attend after much insistence from his sister Sile, and it was weariness that eventually persuaded him.

She had been attending the same class for a few months, and according to her, it was the best thing one could ever imagine. The connection with ceramics and the meditative state during the class provided her with some peace that no therapy ever could.

Cillian had gone through a divorce six months ago, leaving him emotionally strained. His siblings, Orla, Sile, and Páide, had been trying to help him cope, as it was a complicated divorce. However, he found solace in focusing on his work and being there for his son, which led him to isolate himself a bit. His siblings have been trying to get him out of that isolation, something that he admired (because it showed they cared) but never asked for.

Almost every Saturday, Cillian and his brother used to play poker, an activity he despised, but was forced to attend by his brother. Spending hours staring at cards and poker-faced men was far from his idea of fun. So, when his sister Sile kept praising the ceramics class, it began to seem not such a bad idea.

The studio was located in a serene corner of the city, surrounded by greenery, and the entrance door was a soft baby pink, contrasting with the white walls. It had no name calling you in, if you passed in front of it, you would never know it was a pottery class studio.

"Ready for the best experience of your life?" Sile asked excitedly as they walked towards the door.

Cillian smiled and replied, "Let's see."

The pink door swung open, revealing a spacious area with a wall adorned with glass doors that led to a small garden filled with large plants and some garden benches and tables. The rectangular space wasn't too wide or too deep, just the perfect size. It felt homy and welcoming.

An incense burned, filling the air with the scent of citronella, a fragrance Cillian wasn't sure he liked yet.

The studio's floor was made of burnished concrete, and the white walls were adorned with numerous shelves overflowing with various ceramic works.

In one corner of the room, Cillian spotted some equipment he recognized as a pottery wheel after watching a video of his sister creating a small vase. In another corner, workbenches were filled with an assortment of tools.

Cillian found himself standing in admiration for a minute, taking in the surroundings. Everything appeared chaotic yet perfectly organized at the same time.

On the veranda, around the tables and chairs, there were women chatting. Other women were scattered throughout the space, and a man was cutting and weighing the clay.

"Come on, let me introduce you," Sile said, pulling her brother's arm, and he went along with it.

The women greeted him and tried to hide their whispers and smiles, but someone who has been in the spotlight for many years could pick up on those nuances. He took a deep breath and decided to ignore the attention while answering a question from one of the women about his latest film.

After, another question followed and then another… Cillian wanted to escape from that place. He looked at his sister, who gave him an apologetic look and tried to change the subject, but it wasn't necessary.

"Alright, shall we?" a sweet and gentle voice interrupted, capturing the women's attention as they began to stand up. Saving Cillian from that interrogation.

Looking back, Cillian saw the woman whose voice it was. You, with your hair tied in a completely messy bun, wore loose, worn-out denim overalls with straps, and they were completely stained, which he assumed was clay. Under the overalls, you had a simple black workout top, and you were pulling pottery wheels to form a semicircle in the center of the room.

You seemed like a reflection of the studio—messy yet perfectly presented.

"This is our teacher," Sile whispered. "Isn't she beautiful?"

Cillian tore his eyes away from you and frowned at his sister, questioning her true intentions for bringing him here. It wouldn't be the first time Sile tried to set him up with someone.

"Come, let me introduce you," she said, pulling him by the arm again. This time, Cillian hesitated at first but allowed himself to be led by his sister.

"Y/n, this is my brother, Cillian," Sile introduced as they reached you.

With a gentle smile, you greeted him with a nod. Sile has been telling you for ages that she’s trying to convince Cillian to attend one of your classes. "Hi, Sile talks about you a lot. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Well, welcome to my class."

"The pleasure is mine," he replied, smiling. "Sile says this class is the best thing in her life right now, so I had to come and see for myself."

"Really? That's good to hear, Sile” you said genuinely happy “Oh, I guess we better protect your clothes from stains. Sile, please go to the kiln room and get an apron for your brother so he won't get his clothes dirty," you said, and Sile nodded leaving you both.

Looking around, Cillian noticed all the women putting on aprons and getting ready.

"Have you worked with clay before?" you asked him, and he shook his head.

“No, i haven’t" he answered

“Hm, I hope you enjoy it. Oh, don't get frustrated if you can't make anything you like today," you smiled "It's harder than it looks, but I’ll help you through it" you chuckled and turned your back, walking over to the man who was cutting the clay.

The man's name is Loui and he uses your studio to produce his art. As he is still a small artist, he doesn't have much financial return, so his way to pay you for the space is by helping you during the classes. He’s also quite a good friend and confidant .

As you talked to Lou, Sile returned with a black apron and handed it to Cillian.

"There was a hot pink one inside, almost took it, but felt sorry for you," she laughed.

"Good sign of character," he joked, putting on the apron.

"Come and get your clay," you said, handing a piece of clay to each person. "Today, we'll work with 300 grams. You can make plates, vases, or jars. So big pieces today guys" you explained to everyone

"Can we split and make two things?" one of the women who bombarded Cillian with questions earlier asked.

"No, Helena. We'll work with the whole piece of clay, stepping out of our comfort zone," you replied, and she nodded, a bit frustrated.

After everyone got their clay, they moved to the workbench, now covered with marble slabs, and began kneading the clay as if they were kneading bread dough.

You turned on your sound box and put on some nice lo-fi music before going to Cillian and explaining to him this step.

"This step is the most important," you said, standing next to him, who observed everything a bit lost. "We knead the clay to remove air bubbles and make it smoother. If there are bubbles, the piece might crack during firing. Let me show you how it's done." You took the ball of clay gently from his hand and guided him to the counter. "To avoid back pain, it's good to put your supporting foot forward and use your whole body to move." You began explaining and kneading the clay. "You make the movement with the palm of your hand pushing, and pulling with your fingers. It will form something like a cow's face." You made two holes in the indents of your palm and two on the side that wasn't kneaded. "See?" You asked with a smile, and he nodded, seeing that it indeed resembled a cow's face. "Now, your turn. Do it for about five minutes and you should be good" you left the clay on the table for him and watched him make his first move.

As usual, for someone who had never done it before, Cillian's movements were a bit off.

So, for him to feel the right movement with his wrists, you approached and pressed your hand on top of his.

"Let's go, without fear. You can press the clay harder. Don’t need to be gentle," you instructed.

Cillian was afraid to admit it, the moment your hands touched his, he felt himself blush. The choice of words were also a bit ambiguous, making him blush more.

With some instructions, you corrected him, and by the end of the five minutes, he was doing the movement almost perfectly.

"With practice, you'll get the hang of it," you said with a smile. "But now, it's good. Choose a pottery wheel and have a seat. I’ll be right with you."

Cillian followed your instructions and chose a pottery wheel to start his work.

“Liking so far?” Sile asked, sitting next to him.

“Better than poker” he answered making Sile smile “a little of an arm workout as well” Sile chuckled

“Yeah, where do you thinking I’ve been gaining all these muscles” she flexed her arms, showing off her biceps

“You are adorable,” Cillian said with a smile, not impressed by her biceps.

You finished helping one of the students set their clay on the wheel and went to give Cillian some attention.

You had to admit that having him in your studio was a bit weird. Yes, Sile has been telling you for ages that she would convince him to come, but to actually have him here, it’s weird.

I mean, he is Tommy fucking Shelby and now fucking Oppenheimer. Why the hell is he here in your tiny and messy studio? It was almost as if you felt intimidated by his presence.

Just treat him like any other student, you told yourself as you walked towards him.

As you approached him, he felt a mix of nervousness and excitement. Making his heart beat a little faster, a feeling that he weirdly enjoyed.

"So, what do you intend to make?" you asked, curious, while adjusting the wheel's position in front of him.

"I'm not sure yet. Maybe a vase," he replied, looking at the lump of clay in front of him.

"Going with the classic. Great choice. Alright girls, and Cillian” you chuckled as you were now, talking to everyone “now let's start rolling. Anyone needs anything, I'm here.” You turned to Cillian and sat in front of him on a tiny wooden bench. “You need some more attention. I’ll guide you step by step. Let's begin. First, wet your hands to prevent the clay from sticking," you suggested, showing him how to do it. "Now, place the clay in the center of the wheel and press lightly with your hands to secure it. Press the pedal, you will see it will start spinning. Adjust the speed on your feet as you feel more comfortable with it"

Cillian followed your guidance carefully, feeling the cool texture of the clay between his fingers. Slowly, he started shaping it, giving form to what would be the beginning of a vase.

"That's right, mold it slowly, feel the clay, and let it guide your hands," you encouraged him. “Now here, different from before, you have to be gentle, the clay won’t suport much pressure. Just feel it.” You explained to him.

Cillian followed your instructions, but it was indeed more challenging than he expected. Once he seemed to be doing good, you stepped away from his side, letting him explore the clay on his own.

The clay didn't quite follow Cillian's hand movements, and just when he thought he was getting the hang of it, the clay would break or warp in a way he didn't intend.

"Having a hard time there?" Sile asked, laughing, after Cillian gave a frustrated slap to the clay, trying to reshape it in the pottery wheel.

"I think I wasn't born for this, Sil" Cillian grumbled.

"Patience, bro," Sile said with a smile. "Ask y/n for help. She can assist you."

You were helping another student mold a large bowl, the biggest piece in the room. You applied pressure to the student's hand, which in turn shaped the clay.

The atmosphere in the room shifted between moments of conversation and laughter to moments of absolute silence, where everyone was fully focused on their work. This current moment was one of silence, and you were completely dedicated to assisting the student, appearing almost in tune with her.

Cillian thought about calling you over, but he preferred to keep observing you work.

Your face radiated with a large smile, even though it was now speckled with clay. You looked in your natural habitat, completely confident, happy. You looked like a genuinely happy person to him.

"I'm going to leave you now," you said to the student.

"No, I'm going to ruin everything!" She said, laughing. "Please, help me finish."

"What!? No way. You need to finish it on your own; you can do it," you chuckled.

"What if I mess everything up?" She asked, feeling insecure.

"Then you make another one," you replied. "Remember, with clay, you can always start over," you winked at her and gently removed your hands from the piece in front of you.

Walking around the room, you assisted another student before going over to Cillian, who was struggling to mold a not-so-promising sphere.

"Having difficulties?" You asked, sitting in front of him again.

His extremely blue eyes met yours, and for a second, you felt a flutter in your stomach that took your breath away. Little did you know that he felt the same.

"Yeah, I can't seem to get the clay to obey me," he replied after clearing his throat.

"Okay, do what you were doing. Let me see what we can improve," you said, and he nodded. He began to apply pressure to the clay, shaping it into a vertical cone.

He continued working on it as you observed his moves, analyzing his technique.

“Ok, i know I told you to be gentle, but try applying more pressure to your fingers, you have to maintain a steady motion, your fingers here are weak, they’re not doing much work” you advised, your voice calm and encouraging “here, excuse me. Let me show you” you place your hands over his, providing a subtle help. “Feel the clay respond to your touch, almost as if it’s guiding you, but at the same time you have to guide it, so no weak fingers” you smiled

Cillian couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. There was something about you that just made his blood rush faster through his veins.

It wasn't just the touch itself, but the way you looked at him with those warm and encouraging eyes that sent shivers down his spine.

In that moment, the sensation of your hand on his felt intimate. almost as sexual tension grew between the both of you. He assumed this feeling might have been a projection of his own desires, a reflection of the void left by his recent divorce. But he couldn't deny the way his heart skipped a beat when your hand touched his.

The way his eyes intensely locked onto yours, and the subtle lingering touches exchanged during the process, sent shivers through your body as well.

You tried to focus on the task at hand, helping him shape the clay, but your heart raced with every brush of your fingers against his.

This had never happened before in your classes, and you'd had many male students before.

You tried to push those feelings aside, reminding yourself to be professional, but you found yourself drawn to him in a way that surprised and excited you.

With your guidance the clay finally started to get a nice vase shape and you broke contact with him completely. After breathing deeply you smiled

“I think you’ve got it now” you said and he cleared his throat and nodded

“Yea, thank you” he answered almost in a whisper

You stood and went to the kiln room, to get a glass of water.

You felt like you needed a break after an intense moment like that and wondered if he felt the same, or if it was your simple desire for that hot Hollywood star.

"So, did you like it?" Sile asked her brother after the class ended.

She was placing her vase on the shelf. She had done a much better job than him, her vase was almost perfect. Each student had a designated space on the shelf where their sculptures were left to dry.

"I liked it," he replied, taking off the apron.

"Are you coming back next week?" She asked, with excitement in her eyes, happy at the idea of having her brother with her during the classes.

"I think so," he answered, his gaze fixed on you as you praised one of the students for their work.

Sile did a little dance of joy. "We need to ask y/n to make some space for you on the shelves," she said excitedly and went to talk to you.

After Sile told you that her brother would continue with the classes, you looked at him, smiled and approached.

"I'm glad to know you liked it," you said. "The vase turned out well."

"It was a good challenge... and the vase is mediocre. Leaning to one side and squashed on the other," he laughed.

"It's great for a first project, Cillian," you smiled. "Let me make some space around here," you said, and began to rearrange the shelves.

Upon closer inspection, Cillian noticed that each shelf had a name written on it. Judging by the number of shelves, it seemed like you had many students.

You took the vase from him and showed him where his shelve would be.

“I must say i’m happy to hear we will meet again next week” you told him and he smiled

“So am I” he told you, with his piercing blue eyes locked on yoursl, once again making your body go through weird waves of excitement.

Shit, is that his super power? you asked yourself.

You thanked everyone for their presence and you wished them a happy weekend as you went on helping Loui clean the studio for the next class.

#cillianmurphy #cillian murphy #cillian series #cillian x fem!reader #cillian fluff #cillian fic #cillian x y/n #cillian one shot #cillian x reader #peakyblinders #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #thomas shelby #oppenheimer

[drinkcrywrite]

DERRY GIRLS APPRECIATION WEEK

↳Day 5/7: Favourite Scenes/Moments

ID under cut

[image description: 10 large gifs made up of five smaller gifs from various episodes of Derry Girls. Gif 1: From 201, 5 gifs from the failed rappelling event. In the top left corner is "#10" in a black outline.   1: Clare clutches the side of the cliff, and hysterically screams at the crowd below. Caption reads, "Don't let the Jaffa bastard hurt me!"   2: Erin and Michelle stare up at Clare off-screen and look shocked, Michelle laughing. Caption reads, "Jesus, Clare! Fuck-a-doodle-doo."   3: Clare looks up at Philip at the top of the cliff. Caption reads, "Last night you said you hated Catholics. Admit it!"   4: Philip at the top of the cliff yells down to Clare. Caption reads, "I said I hated athletes. I'm not much of a sports fan."   5: Erin and Michelle stare up at Clare. Michelle cups her hand around her mouth and yells. Caption reads, "Catholics does sound a bit like athletes, to be fair to him, like." Gif 2: From 201, from the failed differences/similarities brainstorm. In the top right corner is "#09" in a black outline.   1: Philip raises his hand and calls out a suggestion as Clare smiles next to him. Caption reads, "Protestants are British and Catholics are Irish."   2: Jon calls out a suggestion as Orla sits next to him clutching her teddy bear. Caption reads, "Catholics really buzz off statues and we don't so much."   3: Sister Michael nods and smiles. Caption reads, "I do enjoy a good statue, it has to be said."   4: A shot from the back of the room as all the kids raise their hands and call out suggestions. Caption reads, "Catholics watch RTE! Protestants love cleaning! Protestants are taller!"   5: Jenny adds another item to the board titles differences, which is covered in writing. Gif 3: From 305, the discussion of Rob's sexuality. In the top right corner is "#08" in a black outline.   1: Joe excitedly gestures to the other parents off-screen. Caption reads, "He's a gay!"   2: Rob stands next to Joe and nods. Caption reads, "Oh, right. Yes, I'm a raging homosexual."   3: Sean & Geraldine look at Rob off-screen, Sean speaking. Caption reads, "Seriously? Our daughter's a gay."   4: Rob smiles at them. Caption reads, "How is she finding it?"   5: Sean nods while Geraldine answers. Caption reads, "Aye, she's not fully qualified, so to speak." Gif 4: From 204, when Michelle brings out the drug scones. In the top right corner is "#07" in a black outline.   1: Orla smiles and nods. Caption reads, "Aye, they do look like good craic, in fairness."   2: Clare gasps and points hysterically at the scones. Caption reads, "They're drug scones! She put the drugs in the scones!"   3: Michelle rolls her eyes and speaks condescendinly. Caption reads, "Anyways, drugs aren't illegal when you put them in food."   4: An older woman enters the room and takes the container of scones out of James' hands.   5: Michelle puts her hands to head and looks panicked. "Caption reads, "What the fuck just happened?" Gif 5: From 105, when Deidre asks Mary to take Michelle and James with her. In the top left corner is "#06" in a black outline.   1: Deidre looks angrily at Mary off-screen. Caption reads, "I hope to God it's not the gay thing you're offended by."   2: Deidre continues speaking. Caption reads, "Because I'd be disappointed in you, Mary, I'll not lie."   3: Mary looks contrite as she responds to Deidre. "Of course not. I mean if anything, the gay thing sort of cancels out the English thing."   4: James looks fed up. Caption reads, "Again, no gay thing."   5: Michelle grins as she looks at James beside her. Caption reads, "You wouldn't move over there, James? I can't see past your massive closet." Gif 6: From 306, when Clare receives her first kiss. In the top right corner is "#05" in a black outline.   1: Clare looks around the party at all the people dressed as clowns and screams. Caption reads, "Nooooo!"   2: Clare looks annoyed at James off-screen. Caption reads, "Not hundreds of lesbians, James, hundreds of clowns."   3: Laurie, with her clown mask on top of her head, speaks to Clare off-screen. Caption reads, "Well, that's a pity cause I was sorta plannin' on kissing you tonight."   4: Laurie kisses Clare with a hand on each cheek and slowly pulls back, Clare keeping her eyes shut.   5: Clare giddily smiles at the others outside the party and nods that Laurie did in fact kiss her. Gif 7: From 206, when James comes back aftre almost leaving with his mother. In the top left corner is "#04" in a black outline.   1: James sits in the car looking pensively out the window.   2: Clare, Michelle, and Erin stand in the crowd looking upset as everyone cheers behind them.   3: James yells down to the girls from the bridge overlooking the crowd. Caption reads, "I. Am. A Derry Girl!"   4: James and the girls run to each other, Orla jumping into his arms and Michelle wrapping her arms around him.   5: The kids all walk away from the crowd smiling, their arms around each other's shoulders, James with the fake USA flag around his shoulders. Gif 8: From 307, when Erin and Granda Joe talk about the Good Friday Agreement. In the top right corner is "#03" in a black outline.   1: Granda hold Anna on his knee and smiles as he speaks to Erin. Caption reads, "It's what you think that's important."   2: Erin looks sadly at Granda off-screen. Caption reads, "People died. Innocent people died, Granda.   3: Erin continues talking. Caption reads, "Nothing can ever make that okay."   4: Erin looks worried. Caption reads, "What if we vote yes, and it doesn't even work?"   5: Granda smiles at Erin. Caption reads, "And what if it does? What if no one else has to die?" Gif 9: From 106, when everyone joins Orla onstage at the talent show. In the top left corner is "#02" in a black outline."   1: Clare stands and looks slightly nervous as she shouts. Caption reads, "Actually, she's our dick."   2 Michelle looks exasperated as she stands to join them going onstage. Caption reads, "Oh, for fuck's sake."   3: All the kids join Orla onstage and start dancing along with her.   4: Sister Michael watches the kids dancing onstage and her mouth twitches, as if she wants to maybe smile, in a rare show of emotions.   5: The kids jump onstage and put their arms around each other in slow-motion. Gif 10: From 101, when the kids are in detention. In the top right corner is "#01" in a black outline.   1: James clutches the wall in desperation. Caption reads, "Michelle, I can't hold it any longer."   2: Michlle mocks Clare as Clare sadly chews a sandwich. Captione reads, "But will you ever get yer self-respect back, Clare?"   3: Erin opens the window and starts to climb through it.   4 Orla holds the nun's head up and grins. Caption reads, "It's funny how she sleeps with her eyes wide open, isn't it?"   5: Michelle and Erin turn accusingly to James as he continues to pee in the trashcan.]

#derry girls #derrygirlsweek #derrygirlsedit #derrygirlsgifs #userbbelcher #chewieblog #dailytvfilmgifs #filmtv #cinematv #shinylightblue #rupzydaisy #*gifs #dgalledit

[look-at-the-soul]

The Photoshoot-Part 49

Cillian Murphy series 2014, 2015

Thank you, Flor @justrainandcoffee for making this moodboard!My heart just can’t take how beautiful it is!

Cillian is away, busy with Peaky Blinders matters.

Word count: 3,204

“So Cillian's flight is tomorrow right?” Isla asked her daughter as they reached the steps of her house.

“Yeah, we can drive him in the morning and then go and have brunch.” Yael proposed.

“I’d love to!” As they stopped so Scout could smell a bush, Isla noticed something else. “What’s the matter?”

Yael took a deep breath as she started to play with the leash in her hand.

“It’s everything with the adoption process, there are days where I try to be strong and positive and days where I don’t think I can’t do this.”

Isla wrapped her arms around her daughter instinctively, trying to comfort her.

“Baby, hang in there, don’t loose hope. I’m sure you’ll get good news soon.”

As they started moving, Yael looked up, trying to find some answers. “I swear I don’t want to sound like pessimist, but what if we don’t? What if this never moves forward?”

“Have you talked to Cillian about this?”

But her daughter shook her head.

“My sweet girl, I know this is hard… but I also know you’re the strongest woman I know. When you were a little girl you went through every surgery, every physical therapy you took and you were so brave.”

Tears blurred Yael’s eyes as she felt her mum’s hands caressed her arms. Back then you were my rock, you showed me I could be strong just like you. Now, Cillian is your rock, don’t leave him out.”

“You’ve been my rock too, I love you.” Yael expressed full of gratitude, wrapping her arms around her mother. “I’ll talk to him, or trust the process more likely.” She chuckled nervously.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to finish the process, it’s just a matter of time.”

“That’s the scariest part actually, but I know you’re right.”

Yael tried to leave her worries in each one of the steps of her home. Trying to focus on the blessings she already had.

Scout practically threw himself once he spotted Cillian, over excited to see him again.

“How was your walk?” He walked forwards to greet his wife with a quick peck on the lips.

“Great! We had a gorgeous sunset and Scout got to chase the birds.” Isla explained her son in law.

Cillian turned to look at his wife, to confirm his mother in law’s statement.

“It was breathtaking, take a look.” Yael supported her Mum’s words by showing her husband the pictures she took.

“Wowzers.” It looked like the scene belonged to a painting. “I was talking to my brother and was thinking of doing some improvised dinner? What do you think? Shall we go somewhere or…”

Yael took a long swing of water, but with her free hand, she made a sign that was okay with his plan.

“I think it’d be better if we make something and have dinner here, you need to get up early for your flight.”

“Yeah? Grand!”

“Why don’t you call Orla? Perhaps she’s free as well.” Yael proposed, loving the excitement in his eyes.

“Well and what are we having for dinner?” Isla asked, ready to help.

“We ate hamburgers this week.” Yael bit her lip.

Then, she saw the look in her husband’s eyes.

“What are you thinking of?” She wriggled her eyebrows at him, waiting for an answer.

“Mexican. I really want tacos.”

Just the mere thought had the three of them drooling.

Yael took her purse and walked off into her husbands arms. “We’ll go quickly to the store to get everything.”

“Don’t forget the chips for the guacamole.” Cillian made sure Isla was out of sight to pat playfully his wife’s bum.

“We’ll be right back. If you need anything else call me.”

Whislt a short trip to the grocery store to get everything for dinner, Yael made sure to add a couple of protein bars for Cillian and several snacks to have at home for her and her Mother.

As they were strolling the hallways of the store to go to the checkout, Yael stopped on her tracks when she noticed an elderly woman trying to reach an item on one of the top shelves, before she could react, a young boy approached and with all the familiarity of the world, encouraged her to step back, a tender smile on his face.

The cashier smiled at Yael and her mother as they were ready to the check out.

“That’s her grandson.” The cashier explained, as if she could read their minds. “She lost her husband a couple of months ago and they used to come together every week to get their groceries. Now her grandson moved in with her and they get just as what’s on the list that the grandpa wrote down.”

Yael gave her Mum a long look. She felt her heart swelling.

“That’s adorable.” Isla agreed touched by the boy’s gesture.

“I know right? Good people still exist.” The cashier added finishing with their items.

“I think it speaks volumes about him, huh?” Yael threw the pair another look as the grandma and grandson walked past them.

“He’s so young and yet he made the choice to go back in town to take care of her.”

Swiping her credit card to pay, Yael thought of her own grandmother and all the moments they shared together at the cottage in the Lake District. “Bless him. Thank you.”

“Have a nice day.” Added Isla taking some of the bags.

“I obviously don’t know that boy’s parent but you’ve t agree with me, this isn’t only because of him, I think he probably saw that kind of selflessness in his parents.”

“Yes and no.” Isla differed, catching Yael’s attention. “Sometimes unfortunately the example is so wrong that you’ve no other option but do the completely opposite. Sometimes people show you just what you don’t want to be.”

Just like her own father, Yael thought.

On their way back, they talked about not knowing what that woman might been through, but either way it was admirable. A few blocks away from her house, Yael got a phone call and asked her Mum to put her phone on speaker.

“Yael Lieberman?” The voice called. She went by Murphy now, but some people still called her that.

“How can I help you?”

“Vogue UK, I’m Naomi Wilson PR.” Yael’s heart started beating faster. “We’d like to know if you could take the photos for the December cover.”

“Yes, of course.”

She was informed they weren’t allowed to reveal the name of the celebrity yet, but they’d arrange all the expenses on her behalf for the travel.

“Honey congratulations!”

Cillian and Scout joined them in the garage as they were hugging. “Why are we so happy?” He immediately thought they got news from the adoption process.

And Yael shared the details of the last call she got from the magazine.

About an hour later, Pad arrived with his wife Elise, and their son, Connor.

“You’re with the beard again?” Cillian teased his brother.

“Lost a bet, that’s why.” His brother replied. “Ugh diaper.”

Elise waved at them and went into another room to change it, but first she let them know Pad was a disaster with the nappy and she preferred to do it her way.

“You brought the avocados right?” Cillian asked his brother in a low voice, Yael was very specific about that ingredient.

“I hope four is enough.”

“The more avocado, the better!” Yael shouted from the pantry, joining them a moment later with a couple of colorful bowls. “That smells nice.”

Cillian took over with the beef once more, while Isla got the sodas from the refrigerator. “Look at you! Stop growing.” She got a cooing sound from Pad’s son.

“He’s heavier now, wants to climb everywhere.”

“And eat everything.” Then looking at Scout he warned; “watch out buddy, he’s gonna grab your tail and bite it like there’s no tomorrow.”

Luckily, Scout stormed off the kitchen when he heard the doorbell.

“Oh you’re glowing!” Yael greeted Orla with a hug. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She blushed giving her sister in law another hug.

Then Yael turned to to her niece. “I got some chips for you, they’re in the pantry.”

“Thanks auntie!”

As the Murphy siblings gathered around the kitchen, Cillian rushed to their reading room to take a phone call, there had been an issue with his check-in so he’d have to stop by the counter earlier.

“It’s good to see you Isla.” Orla chatted. “Hey, maybe we can call Mum and go for lunch one of these days.”

“That’d be nice.” Yael agreed taking a bite of the beef, she chopped peppers and onion in case anyone wanted to add to their tacos.

“There’s a new place downtown and it’s ugh amazing.” Elise joined the conversation.

Yael looked at Paiddy’s wife, surprisingly they moved in sync. As the girls shared more details for their plans, Cillian’s brother shared a few comments with him about something related to dinner.

“Sienna why don’t you give your aunt the present you got for her?” Orla encouraged her daughter.

The child’s face lit up and she rushed to retrieve her mother’s purse.

“We went shopping the other day, and as I was looking for a decorative bowl, Sienna found something.” She explained with a wink.

As Paidy’s son tried to reach the food in the bowl, Yael grabbed him playfully, spinning him around but being extra careful to not make a blunt movement.

“What are you trying to get? Hmm? You want tacos too?” Yael changed the child to her opposite hip and started playing with Connor and Sienna. “Okay little Miss, what did you get for me?”

Wrapped in a paper bag, she offered it to her and the kid smiled proudly as she waited excitedly for her aunt to see. Yael played along, making big gestures of surprise and suspense.

Both of them giggling happily as their aunt held out a jumbo mug with the word auntie written al around in capital letters, and it was enough to melt Yael’s heart. “Oh Sienna! This is so sweet… I love you, you know that right?”

Leaving the mug carefully on the counter, Yael wrapped her free arm around her niece just as Cillian was coming back from his call. Finding Yael holding Connor and giving Sienna instructions to help with the tacos. And the scene was enough to ignite something within his heart, something bigger than he had ever experienced.

For an instant, he couldn’t help but think how wonderful his wife would be as a Mum, and he wished from the deepest part of his heart that they would be able to finish the adoption process.

****

Cillian took his wallet and phone from the table, he had been for hours at the wardrobe fitting. Endless shirts, ties, handcuffs, peak caps and suits, all made for him with the best fabric around, the quality of not only the materials, but each piece as well was beyond this world.

“Can I help you with anything else?” Someone offered.

He politely declined the offer, feeling his shoulders tense, hands inside the pockets of his jeans. Staring back at himself in the mirror, he released the tension of his jaw and relaxed his posture automatically after noticing he had been standing as Tommy Shelby.

“Cillian.” Steven’s voice caught his attention. “Are you done here?”

“Yeah.” Cillian nodded, not being able to avoid one more look at his reflection. There was no coming back now, the transformation was taking place on the outside with the wardrobe and now the haircut -not so bold this time at least-, but it was happening on the inside as well.

The thoughts, the looks, the posture. Tommy Shelby was taking over little by little, word by word from the script that he couldn’t help it but take a step back to allow this enigmatic character re-emerge.

“You’re so quiet. Everything alright?” Steven asked as they took the elevator towards the production offices.

“Yeah, just… thinking.” He trialed off.

It was as if he was hosting a battle between who he really was and Thomas Shelby. It might sound crazy, but that’s the way he felt.

“So I got to write around the ideas you gave me, I actually love it… would you like to add anything else?”

“No, just the Institution part we talked about.” Cillian explained. “I don’t know how further you wanna go with that, I just want to ask you to involve this part of the charity…” he made a pause and looked towards the window. “There’s a side of Tommy that he genuinely cares you know? Despite the heartbreak, the pain. It’s right there deep inside.”

Steven nodded profusely. Catching what Cillian meant and he already had intertwined a couple of ideas based on that.

“To me your point of view is needed because of this exactly.” Steve pointed at him from the other side of the desk. “You know Tommy better than anyone else.”

“Better than you even?” Cillian cocked an eyebrow.

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Steven praised, he was not surprised at all by the quick change between Cillian and Tommy, he knew what he was doing. “What do you think about the intimate scenes?”

“We’ll you can’t have this type of man without sex, right?” Cillian toyed with a string on his jeans.

He wanted to run his hand through his hair but it was gone now. “Do what you’ve to do.” They e already discussed how openly some of them would be.

“You got serious with the training this season.”

Cillian laughed awkwardly. He was used to his wife’s teasing him for getting beefy for the role but someone else noticing it and pointing it out made him want to hide somewhere.

“Do you realize you’re pushing not only Tommy but me to the limit with all of this?”

Tommy would go through an intense internal turmoil after some events. And the whole bunch would put him under such pressure that he was afraid to explode any minute. The character itself was a challenge, a completely different mindset, the total opposite of how he’d react.

Steven leaned back on his chair and with a smile of satisfaction he replied; “yes, but you can do that and even more.”

And now it was time for Cillian to chuckle.

But deep down, he felt genuinely proud to know Steve trusted him so openly.

“I got a couple of books about the Russians, it’s interesting how no one suspected a thing back then.” He wanted to be well documented about the facts that happened in real life. To him a script was much more than just lines to memorize, he needed to feel a conection, understand the characters motives. And getting around to understand the reason why it was part of the series, could help him to bring more realism into his character.

And now it would be slightly different as a producer of the series. He had a major power decision, he’d have a more active role in making choices.

“I’ve a couple of songs I’d like you to hear.” Cillian stated and Steven knew that this meeting would be longer than he expected.

*

“Hey babe, sorry I didn’t hear my phone.” Cillian apologized as his wife answered.

“It’s fine, I thought you were busy.” Even though he couldn’t see her, he knew she was smiling. “How did it go?”

“Grand, grand,” he tried to move a few steps away from the noise on the street. “Tomorrow I’m going to check a few locations with Steve.”

“Oh that’s nice, send me photos if you can.”

“Will do. I called you this morning.”

“I slept in, we did actually.” Yael chuckled. “Scout and I cuddled because you weren’t around to wake us up.”

“Ah, now I won’t let you sleep.”

Yael laughed. “No, I mean you start the shower and then downstairs to make breakfast, well you know.”

“I get it, I’ll tiptoe next time.” Cillian offered. “To let the princess sleep.”

Enjoying the teasing, Yael thanked him for being so thoughtful.

“Ya, how’s everything over there?” He shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“I took Mum to an exhibition downtown and it was incredible, spent most of the day window shopping and now I’m organizing some photos to deliver them tomorrow.”

“You’re not going to see that fan of yours, right?” He teased. Started calling the weirdo her fan.

“Goodness no, I delivered those via mailing.” She chuckled and the sound of her laugh made his body tingle. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” He laughed and smiled like a silly young boy in love. “Miss you bossing around.”

“I’m not bossy.” Yael defended.

“Before I left the hotel this morning, I kept thinking phone, wallet, key.” He mimicked her voice. He tried in an lousy attempt to remind himself of what she’d say before he walked out the room.

“But that’s not being bossy, you sometimes forget something.”

“Of course you’re not, I’m only messing.”

“I really want to see you already, the house is not the same without you… last night I slept with my Mum in the guest bedroom and Scout joined us.”

“Soon babe, I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’ll cook you a huge steak.”

“Oof that sounds tempting.” Cillian eyed Steven from the corner of his eye. “I gotta go, I’m having dinner with Steven and then he’ll drive me to the hotel.”

“Say hello from me, love you!” Yael requested before he replied he loved her back and hang up.

Patting his shoulder, Steven asked; “How’s the Mrs?”

“Good, her Mum is visiting so she’s busy.”

“Happy to hear that, she’s lovely.”

With a nod, Cillian followed him inside the restaurant, pulling his beanie a little to cover his head fully.

“Never been here before.”

Steven stood up to greet someone while Cillian looked at the menu.

“The owner it’s a friend of mine since high school.” The producer explained.

“Woah that’s a long road, but it’s nice you stayed in touch.”

“He’s a good pal, had a tough road but he always kept a good spirit.”

After ordering for their meals, Cillian exchanged a bit of information of his screen off time with Steven, they talked about timeframe but were careful to not talk about very specific parts of the upcoming season in case anyone could listen.

“May I ask how’s the adoption process going?”

With a sigh, Cillian leaned back. “Slow but it keeps moving, my mother in law has an interview tomorrow and my parents already did theirs.”

“Are they taking the news well?” He questioned.

“Better than I expected, you know there’s still this stigma around adoption,” Cillian shook his head, “I firmly believe these kids deserve a loving and safe environment. The struggle it’s been hard because there’s all this burocratice around that makes people feel disappointed.”

Steven shared his own point of view about it, not so different of his own thoughts.

“If I can do anything to help, don’t hesitate.”

“Thanks man, I appreciate the offer. We just have to wait and hope for the best.”

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy this series, remember your comments it’s what keeps this alive!

And I’m working on the Tommy Shelby playlist of all the songs that’s been mentioned in the story 🥰✨

Tag list: @lyarr24 @garrison-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @winchestergirl22 @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @strayrockette @forbidden-forest-witch @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @blondie-22 @thenattitude @moral-terpitude @babaohhhriley @queenshelby @ange-thoughts @shaddixlife @sloanexx @cilliansangel (cant tag) @rangerelik @already-broken144 @alessioayla @paprikabadger @dolllol2405 @conversationpits @itsilvermorny @lafell @imichelle-l-rigby @yrli8 @cutecurly-hair @cillspropertea @hyperfixationsonshuffle @sydneyyyya (can’t tag) @abbymcguire @shelundeadxxxx @elk96 @pono-pura-vida @lovemissyhoneybee @slimeantha (can’t tag) @kmc1989 @ironpen

#That’s what Cill said #cillian murphy oc #cillian murphy x fem reader #Cillian Murphy x OC #cillian murphy fan fiction #cillian murphy characters #cillian murphy fiction #Cillian Murphy x Tommy Shelby

[soap-ify]

hi cutie! 💋 i’m new to the cod fandom and an aspiring writer >_< i came across your writing and i love love it sooo much, so i was wondering if you could give some advice on what keeps you motivated to write? and if it’s not too much, could you share some of your fave writing or writer recommendations?

reading your work has my heart doing laps! thank you for your hard work and for sharing it❣️

HI anon you are just so lovely. i hope you know that i've been smiling at this for like the past minute now. i'm so happy you enjoy my writing!

motivation for me mostly comes in random bursts (and goes just as quickly) and i suppose my true motivation is just the fact that i'm very hyperfixated on cod right now. though it's very important to enjoy what you're writing, since that's what helps me the most to keep going :3

and as for my writer recs, i wasn't going to tag because i get shy but i'm too exhausted to find the links SO here you go! please be mindful of all the warnings in their works.

@suimon the entirety of di's masterlist will leave you giggling and kicking your feet trust me!! all of her works are simply amazing, and the way di writes simon is simply chef's kiss.

@rowarn one of my most fav fics is written by ro you totally need to check their works out!! writes simon so beautifully. (little secret that i started this account only because i got inspired by one of their fics)

@stargirlrchive again one of my fav writers on here! anissa's writing makes me all red once i finish it it's just that good.

@comfortless syl has the type of works that'll leave you deep in thought for the next few hours once you finish reading them. they're always just so gorgeously written, makes me sob!

@loveindefinitely all of love's series are so good!! just so interesting and fun to read.

@dmitriene ALL OF JULY'S WORKS ARE SO BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN! literally has me reading some sentences over and over because they are just so good.

@crashandlivewrites begging and scratching at your walls to check out crash's pornstar!price series. while you're at that, check out all of her works >:3 literally has me biting my fist all the time.

@konigsblog orla's works make my mind literally go blank and i mean this in the best way possible! also one of my inspirations when i was first starting this blog >:3

@luvit elli's writing is literal perfection like. literally one of my fav gaz writers out there EVERY WORK IS JUST SO! undescribable.

anyways these are only the ones i can remember at the top of my head right now while being like. super sleepy. but honestly every writer i rb on this account is purely amazing so i recommend you to check all of them out!

#anon omg i'm so curious as to what you'll write now!! #sweet sweet anon sending lots of kisses over to you #ruru mail

[octoberconstellation]

When maisie peters said “I still argue like my mother” and when luke hemmings said “mum I’m sorry I’m still falling” and when noah kahan said “I’m still angry at my parents for why their parents did to them” when ed sheeran said “my dad was wrong cause I’m not like my mom” and when alec benjamin said “if I could realize that it’s your blood that I bleed, maybe I could love myself they way that you love me” and when taylor swift said “who am I supposed to talk to what am I supposed to do?” and when chappell roan said "won't make my mama proud" and when orla gartland said “we all become our mothers in the end”

#taylor swift #maisie peters #luke hemmings #noah kahan #alec benjamin #ed sheeran #Orla Gartland #today was a long day for me #chappell roan

[bananasofthorns]

this will be the death of me

“Aphim. This game is your redemption - so I assume it goes without saying that you anticipate winning.”

Towering somewhere above him, his superiors stare. He does not bother with the futile action of craning his head back in an attempt to match Their gaze.

“Yes.”

“Good. Since you’re already in the game, you wouldn’t mind...taking care of a problem, would you?”

“Of course not.” He pauses. “What kind of problem?”

“The kind of problem that could end this whole thing. It would be very bad for all of us.”

“I see.”

“There is someone who...let himself in,” his superiors continue, distaste coloring Their voice. “He intends to disrupt this whole thing and make it so that there is no game. We haven’t been able to See him yet, but you’ll know him when you see him.

“If you could get rid of him, well. That would be a benefit to us all.”

“Of course. I’ll do as you wish.”

“Excellent.”

<><><>

“There are people coming,” Apate says, peering out of the shitty cave they’re in.

“Who?”

“I was gonna ask you that.”

Aphim joins her at the mouth of the cave with a frown. “Why would I know?”

Not far below them, two people - a blond man and an auburn-haired woman - are making their way up the mountain. The slowly setting sun lights them from behind. Except for the circle at the start, Aphim doesn’t recognize them from anywhere.

“Well, your eyes went all glowy earlier, so—” Apate shrugs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tells her.

“Your eyes glow?” the blond man calls up. There’s a half-smile on his face, like he finds the concept amusing.

Aphim frowns at him. “I don’t think so.”

Apate seeing the tattoos active was bad enough, especially since she seems to have inexplicably come from somewhere outside the game. He doesn’t like the idea of two more strangers knowing about them, even if they shouldn’t know what the tattoos mean.

Luckily, the topic drops and the man and woman introduce themselves as Beau and Orla, respectively.

“Were you two thinking about settling here?” Beau asks, surveying the area.

Aphim shrugs. “I haven’t laid claim to anything.”

“I’m going wherever you’re going,” Apate adds cheerfully.

Aphim closes his eyes and briefly asks the universe for strength. “Do you want her,” he asks Beau flatly.

“I...don’t think that’s how that works?” 

“Unfortunate.”

Beau laughs. The sun behind him makes him shine gold at the edges. Aphim looks away.

“We were thinking about settling near the border,” Beau explains, “but if you two are planning to base around here, we could find somewhere else.”

“I haven’t decided on anything.”

“We could base near each other, maybe.”

Aphim blinks. He hadn’t expected that offer; for a death game, Beau seems to be happy to make friends. Still, he finds he doesn’t hate the idea.

“Alright.”

Apate doesn’t offer any objections to his agreement, though if she had, he probably would’ve ignored them.

“Should we keep looking, then?”

“Sure. I’d like to get more than three whole coal,” Aphim adds acerbically, shooting a distasteful look over his shoulder at the cave.

“Oh! Well, if you need coal.”

Beau holds out his hand. Without thinking, Aphim matches the gesture. He startles when Beau drops a few pieces of coal into his palm; their skin brushes when Beau moves away. His fingers are warm.

Aphim tilts his head in confusion. The simple kindness of the gesture is disarming.

“Thank you,” he says, belated but genuine.

Beau’s grin is as bright as the sun setting behind him.

<><><>

There isn’t much to do in their mountainside hole except sit and wait out the night, so Aphim inevitably finds himself studying his companions - or, in Apate’s case, ignoring them. She has settled so close beside him that they’re nearly touching, so he has no choice but to focus some of his attention on her, but she at least stops trying to talk to him when he doesn’t respond to anything she says. It’s a temporary respite; he savors it.

Across the small room, Orla still seems on edge, but Aphim can’t blame her. It’s only the first night and they all have little more than stone tools, but wariness is vital for a game like this. He wonders how far she’ll make it.

Beau is the one in their small group that intrigues him the most. His easy-going cheer from earlier is gone, replaced by fidgeting discomfort. Aphim puzzles over the change; it could be something as simple as claustrophobia, but he doubts it. 

Beau won’t look at him anymore. He’s not sure why that bothers him as much as it does.

The night passes slowly. None of them have the resources for a clock yet, nor did they leave a hole in the wall to see out of, but mobs still rattle and groan outside. Other than that, they sit in silence.

Again, Aphim finds his attention drawn to Beau, but this time he finds Beau already looking back. They both freeze. Aphim’s heart kicks up a beat.

At the center of Beau’s eyes, where his pupils should be, is a glowing purple symbol that Aphim knows better than he knows himself. You’ll know him when you see him, his superiors had said. The realization sweeps through him quickly. He can almost feel the tattoos on his arms burning.

It is neither the time nor the place to confront Beau. He settles for a sharp grin and a wink. It’s teasing, just on the wrong side of threatening.

Beau looks away first. Aphim studies the tense line of his jaw and wonders.

#oc tag aphim #beauphim #banana writes things #gay people headinhands #campaign the reckoning begins

[konigsblog]

Hey Orla, I need your help. I’m stuck in a deep dark mental hole with Gaz and Soap right now. Can you try to save me with some Gaz x Soap x kitty!reader please? The meaner the better of course 🖤🖤🖤

aw :( i hope you feel better soon!! my dms are always open! :3 🎀

cw: hybrid (cat-human), dub-con (?) gaz x hybrid!f!reader

gaz is a mean, ignorant owner; ignoring your loud orgasms and heats to play video games all day, and scolding you for getting off on him — distracting him from his important games!

he's so fed up of your disobedience and misbehaviour, humilating you for rubbing your swollen, needy pussy back and forth against his shoe and covering him in your sweet cum, before moving to his thigh and grinding your hips back and forth against them. at first, he tries to ignore you, rolling his eyes when you purr too loudly for his liking...

he'll place the controller down, tugging on your collar and forcing you to look at him while he takes his dick from his loose boxers, and eases inside your slicken hole. your cheeks are tearstained, and your ass sore as he bucks into you, filling you up with his meaty girth. you don't want this though, it's too sore for you, since you're unprepared. you haven't had any time to pump your toys into your pussy to stretch yourself out. :( you just want to be fingered, to have your clit toyed with — maybe have a few of your cat toys stuffed in your cunt!

but gaz also has euphoric needs, don't be selfish, kitty... :3 he might lift you up, putting his dumb cat hybrid on their back and fucking into your cunny while you meow and purr loudly, your core tightening as you ride your orgasm out. but, gaz doesn't stop there — he continues for hours, because... well, this is what you wanted? it seems like that atleast, you were pawing at his boxers all day! :(

once he's finished using that pretty hole, he'll make you clean off his veiny cock, your juices dripping. stuffing his dick down your throat, cornering your head in and running his hands down your supple skin. gaz grinds into you, picking up a toy and fucking your pussy with a large cat toy!!

“don’t cry at me, kitty--this is what you wanted, hmm?” he teases, one hand on your throat, choking you brutally and cruelly while you take his big dick down your sore throat. you attempt to pant, heaving as he continues fucking into your pretty lips.

or even stuffing your cunt full with a toy all day, tied up for being a naughty, dumb cat...

#orla speaks #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz call of duty #gaz mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle garrick cod #gaz x female reader

[weyrleaders]

here have another one lol the fact that flirting with jax leads to the reveal that yall have been flirting back and forth for ages makes me want to scream in the woods at 3am so thank you for that @vapolis

i have no idea how the prosthetic eyes work so i took some liberties for the sake of what little plot there is

Aster has always preferred to work alone. At the end of the day, the only person you can really count on is yourself. So why risk relying on someone else when they won’t always be there?

That said, he does enjoy working with Jax. They may be acquaintances at best, but Aster does appreciate Jax’s work ethic. He doesn’t have to plan around Ray’s faux impulsivity, or Ray’s knack for wasting valuable time, or the odds that Ray will make a detour to fuck a stranger in an alley. Ray’s unwillingness to do whatever it takes to get results. Ray’s—

Aster sighs. The little fucker’s not even around and he’s still managing to get on Aster’s nerves. And Aster’s fairly certain why that is.

He glances over at Jax. He’s leaning against the ledge, peering down at the mansion below with one hand on his gun. They’ve been waiting for a few hours, but now the guests have started to arrive.

Aster keeps quadruple-checking his gear without taking his eyes off Jax.

“McClair?” He asks, just loud enough for Jax to hear, the first word either of them has spoken since they settled in to watch.

“Not yet,” Jax replies.

“Then we have a few minutes,” responds Aster. Both glocks are loaded and ready, holdout pistol secured in his right boot, holdout switchblade ready to be stashed in his left. It’s redundant to go over it all again. The third time was enough.

Jax is still looking down at the mansion, scanning the crowd as they head inside. It really is strange to see him out of his usual clothes, foregoing designer button-downs for nondescript street clothes. Which are probably also designer, to be fair. Aster wonders how many weapons he managed to fit in his coat.

“Can you please do me a favor and just fuck Ray already?” Aster asks, sliding his knife back into his boot after testing the sharpness.

Jax doesn’t startle easily, and he doesn’t visibly react beyond cutting his eyes over at Aster for a brief second.

“Excuse me?”

Aster sighs again.

“Our staff meetings—”

“It’s hardly a staff meeting with only four people,” Jax mutters under his breath.

“—are getting unbearable. I know you want him, and while I do have to question your taste—”

“You wore a denim jacket with jeans last week.”

“—I won’t judge you for it,” Aster continues. “Please, for all our sakes, take the bastard to bed and get it out of both of your systems.”

Because that’s how Ray operates. Almost always once, rarely ever twice, and Aster can count on one hand how many other hook-ups have become any sort of semi-permanent arrangement. Not because he cares or has any interest, but because Ray’s an over-sharer who never shuts up and Orla has specifically forbidden him from cutting Ray’s tongue out with the first piece of rusty silverware he can get his hands on. He even asked nicely.

Aster is going to lose no matter what, really. He doesn’t know anything about Jax’s sex life and would love for that particular status quo to remain. But having to sit through Ray’s little play-by-play of what they manage to get up to because they’re stuck in the same room would be worth not having to deal with the weird sexual tension that happens whenever Ray and Jax make eye contact across Orla’s desk. At least the detailed summary would only be once. The longing gazes are forever.

Jax glances over again and narrows his eyes before turning back to the mansion.

“How do you think I feel when you fall over yourself to agree with Orla on everything?”

“That’s different,” Aster hisses. “Of course I agree with her, she’s my boss. McClair?”

“I think that’s his car,” he reports. “She said you did well on that last job and you were practically drooling.”

“I was not—”

“As your coworker, I’m telling you—McClair’s here, we have two minutes—that it’s not going to end well.”

“Stop dodging my original point,” Aster says, keeping his tone very carefully flat as he stands. He makes his way to the edge of the roof where Jax is keeping watch just in time to see their target go inside.

Jax makes for the fire escape as Aster takes his original position at the ledge. As soon as Jax is out of sight, Aster taps their joint mission channel on his SocialLink to get his attention. Jax sends back an acknowledgment.

Aster watches the mansion for any sign of movement. His eyes are better, even if he can’t keep up the fancy tricks for long.  Jax is good, but he can’t be expected to watch the front door, the side entrances, and all the windows at the same time.

Jax tracks down McClair’s car once the valet leaves it unattended. It wouldn’t be fair to continue their discussion, since Jax can’t reply, so Aster just hangs back and lets him work. There’s a brief moment where a woman pauses by one of the windows, and Aster zooms in to watch her face and body language while taking mental notes of what she looks like in case they have to track her down later. But she doesn’t show any sign of alarm or confusion and wanders off after a moment, so Aster returns to his patrol.

McClair isn’t actually the target. They’re here for the prototype in his car. Aster doesn’t know what it is, exactly, just that it’s very valuable and very secret. And he’s selling it to Orla for a lot of money, which is in the small case that Jax is supposed to leave in place of the prototype.

It’s not as if McClair can safely meet with any of them without risking his reputation or job—and thus any more interesting toys he may be willing to part with later down the line—so he and Jax are once again on pickup detail. Aster does a lot of that, lately. Mostly because Ray has Orla convinced he lacks the patience for it and would likely fuck it up. Asshole.

“Done,” Jax reports in a hushed whisper.

Aster enhances his vision and hits the override for his eyes so they can move faster. Everyone is still inside and no one has lingered at the windows. The valet is still waiting by the door and hasn’t so much as glanced in the direction of the parking area. It’s still a very long couple of minutes until Aster hears Jax making his way back up the fire escape.

Aster closes his eyes and reverts their settings back to normal, massaging his temples. He’s going to be eating those black market headache meds Echo got for him like candy tonight.

“As I was saying,” Aster grates out, “watching the two of you dance around each other like school children is painful. You’re both adults. Stop making all of us suffer when you know he’s going to say yes before you even finish asking.”

“And as I was saying,” counters Jax, “you should really be careful about throwing those rocks from inside that glass house of yours.”

Aster sighs.

#rywd #mara i am tagging you because you wished i had for the last one thank you so so much im glad you liked it!! :D

[vapolis]

Hey just wanted to pop in and say I love that there are obvious ways that like certain ros connect with merc and like perceive them (I say certain cause I haven’t done all the routes and I’m not a fan of assumptions) but also this underlying vibe of this alien-ness too. Like in certain ways merc, jax, and orla are similar people. There’s this understanding that comes from operating in their world in the way that they do. Like speaking the same dialect while being three completely different people. Or three people from the same hometown with certain similar understandings but having wildly different lives.

I dunno, maybe it’s just me but I’ve always kind of gotten this feeling that merc is something knowable but never understood in some ways. Like jax and orla probably felt human before their current careers, and they do now, and they will when all is said and done. Maybe they don’t like the people they used to be, or maybe they’ll twist or untwist certain emotions or morals but human nonetheless. Sometimes merc gives the vibe that they don’t feel like a person. They feel like a collective, a mass grave, a midden heap, thoughts that claw and scream and hold uncomfortable vows of silence never at the right moment. Maybe they were a person before, but now they’re an amalgamation of the people they’ve died as. Like each time it’s harder and harder for them to wiggle and crawl their way out of the corpse pile. And it gives their interactions something spicy. Like jax and orla aren’t afraid of them, but whenever they’re directing or dealing with merc, it’s like they’re testing a hundred year old gun, with their bare hands and knowing that there’s a 8 out of 10 chance it’ll fire and fire well and do what you wish it to do, but there’s this 2 out of 10 chance that it’ll backfire and take your hand off. Like they’re not afraid, they’re still gonna test it, still gonna use it. But that 2 out of 10 looks a lot less comforting when you realize how much they’ll be needing that gun. And I feel like they interact with that amount of maybe wariness because neither jax or orla are dumb, certainly arrogant but never stupid. But no one trains their dog to fight in the pits and then lets them sleep in the same bed as them (which actually isn’t this kind of their romances, in which, case, I mean, should probably be fine right? Merc’s well fed… kinda. Probably.)

"merc is something knowable but never understood in some ways" OH HO HO I love that description of them. it's true in some way.

especially considering what you then say about them feeling like a collective of people, a mess grave (which goes so hard as well as the end of the ask I'm still 😵‍💫😵‍💫) that vibe certainly is something they grapple with as time goes on and their memories get weird as mentioned a little already. I love that you picked up on it and how that changes the way jax and orla interact with them.

yes, they're a tool meant to be used but at the end of the day they have their own mind made up of ghosts haunting them at night and the things left over from when they were someone else for the day and orla and to an extent jax are very aware of the fact. they want to use them but it's always a what if.

what if today is the day the merc snaps? what if tomorrow is the day we can't reign them back in? what if the day after tomorrow they turn on us? has that happened before? can they free themself of the burden of what once was and what they have done with their own hands in the name of others?

it's always at the back of their minds, even if they'd never say it. there's no fear, really, because they don't fear death itself and certainly not by the hands of merc, but a good amount of caution that warns them not to set them off too early.

#asks #c: jax #c: orla #c: mc #im gonna be thinking about this a while ty anon