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The Love of Another - Part Two || Cillian Murphy x actress!Reader

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Summary: After meeting on the set of Peaky Blinders, Cillian and Y/N struggle to keep their relationship professional.

Warnings: Swearing, cheating, angst. Some (pretty cringe) fluff at the end.

Word Count: 5.7k

a/n: thank you so much for the lovely feedback on the first part of this! I haven’t written anything multi-part in literal years, but this was fun. some chunky sections of dialogue here, hopefully easy to follow! enjoy x

(Paul is Paul Anderson and Sophie is Sophie Rundle (if that wasn’t obvious already). Y/N’s character in the show is not canon/replacing any of the actresses, just feel free to use your imagination and slot her in somewhere! it is yourself after all.)

“Would you rather have Tommy teach you to ride a horse, or Arthur teach you to box?” The interviewer asked, smiling at the actress in front of her. Y/N chewed the inside of her cheek, tapping her knee as she thought about her answer. “That’s a hard one, because both could end up with me on the floor!” She joked, looking past the camera at the crew who were essentially getting paid to laugh at anything she said. “I have to go with Tommy on this one. It’s probably the least dangerous! Plus, who doesn’t love watching Cillian ride those horses?” The two women laughed together before swiftly moving onto the more serious questions about Y/N’s debut in the series. “I’d have gone with Arthur.” Y/N’s husband sneered, lowering the volume on the TV. Behind him she was sat at the table, re-reading the new scripts she’d been sent and familiarising herself with the lines.

“They pay me to say stuff like that, you know.” She declared casually, not bothering to look up from the page. He turned around and watched as she scribbled down some notes, mouthing words to herself quietly.

“They pay you to brown-nose Cillian?” He scoffed, leaning on the back cushion. Dropping her pencil with a sigh, she finally looked up with raised brows.

“Yes. Just like I got paid to brown-nose every other man I’ve worked with.” She quipped sarcastically, rolling her eyes, and twirling the pencil between her fingers. She waited for him to respond, but the snarky comeback never came. A smart choice on his part.

Despite her only having met Cillian once, her husband still had this bizarre idea that they’d spent every waking moment together during filming. Y/N had become too exhausted to argue about it. Her career and her future in Peaky Blinders was a lot more important than her husband’s petty jealousy, and she certainly wasn’t going to throw away the role of a lifetime because of him.

“Y/N… Your line.” The prompter called, waving the script in the air and tapping the page with her pen.

“Oh, sorry. Can we go from the top?” Y/N asked nervously, looking around at the crew that were becoming increasingly impatient. What was supposed to be a quick and simple scene was turning into an hour of do-overs with Y/N forgetting small details on every take. “I’m really sorry everyone.” She addressed the room, some mumbling back, others just rolling their eyes and whispering among themselves.

Stepping forward off his mark, Cillian turned to the director. “I think we can pick this up next week. Don’t you?” He asked quietly, eyes flitting to Y/N and back again. “Long day…”

“Alright. We’ll set up for this scene first thing Monday morning, but I want it finished and perfect by lunchtime.” He spun in his chair, ordering everyone to go home and rest up on their rare weekend off.

Sighing, Y/N tugged at her hair, freeing it from the clips holding it tightly in place. Paul patted her shoulder sympathetically before leaving set, shaking Cillian’s hand on the way out. Cillian sat down beside her quietly, waiting for everyone else to filter out. Once the room was empty, he scooted closer, slipping his hand in hers beneath the table. “I had it, Cill, I had it.”

“I know.” He soothed, stroking her knuckles with his thumb. “I did it for my sake, not yours. This suit is itching.” He joked lightly, pulling at his collar. Looking up, she felt a smile creeping onto her face. There he was, being cheesy, always trying to cheer her up.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“I think the guest in your trailer might have something to do with it.”

Nodding, she looked down at their hands, at Cillian’s gentle fingers dancing along her veins. She thought about her husband; how he’d travelled all this way and spent the entire afternoon waiting for her. Yet here she was, comfortable in the arms of another man, betraying him for the thousandth time.

Cillian could see the cogs turning in her head. Forgetting to blink, she stared down at the tabletop, studying the cracks in the brown paint. He squeezed her hand softly, reminding her he was still there. “What are you thinking?” He whispered.

“I have to tell him, don’t I?” She asked, not really seeking an answer. For months she’d tried to plan a way to tell him, to come out with the truth and end her marriage for good, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. It wasn’t something she could do over the phone, but she also couldn’t bear to see him in person. She continued to pretend everything was OK, smiling through their FaceTime calls and sending love hearts whenever she couldn’t answer. ‘Couldn’t’ meaning when she was with Cillian.

“I don’t know how I’m going to do it, or when, or where, but I know I have to. I mean, it’s been a year already, and I think I just lost track of time but then – “

“Hey, hey.” Cillian grabbed her face gently, putting a pause to her rambling. “You don’t need to go making any grand declarations today.”

“If I leave it any longer, it’ll just make it worse.”

Y/N seemed to stare straight through him, her jaw tensing beneath his fingers. Part of him wished he could fix it for her, that he could go to her husband himself and tell him the truth to save her the burden. He feared how her husband could react, knowing he had a habit of getting jealous and suspicious whenever she got too friendly with a man. He knew he could handle it but wasn’t sure she’d be able to.

“Y/N!” A voice shouted from the entrance; it was Sophie, looking for her so she could drag her to her birthday night out. The pair separated, Cillian standing awkwardly. “There you are. Come with me, I’ve found the perfect dress for you to wear tonight!”

“I’ll leave you ladies to it.” He smiled, giving Y/N one last reassuring smile before leaving the building. The last thing Y/N wanted to do was go out, but she didn’t want the crew hating her even more after her earlier fiasco, so she dragged herself to the wardrobe department and let Sophie show her the dresses they were going to ‘borrow’ for the evening.

“A vision in red! Happy birthday, sweetheart.” Paul beamed, hugging Y/N tight as she joined the group, her husband in tow. Paul made the effort to greet him - the man lucky enough to steal Y/N’s heart - as he put it. She laughed along, the pang of guilt inside her chest doubling in size. He may’ve had occupancy of her heart once upon a time, but that space had since been filled by someone else, and that someone was currently sat in the corner looking as handsome as ever. Cillian raised his glass to her, smiling, his arm flexing in his t-shirt. She nodded back, the all-too-familiar rush of heat spreading up her neck and to her face.

It was the perfect night for it, considering the football match just a few miles down the road was keeping most of the city occupied for a couple of hours. Everyone chose to pack out the pubs, leaving the majority of the bars fairly empty and ideal for the star-studded crowd to hide out and enjoy their night. It wasn’t often they all stepped out together like this, but birthdays were an exception.

“Drink?” Y/N’s husband asked, throwing his arm over her shoulder. Leading her to the bar, he gushed about his conversation with the Arthur Shelby, and how much of a nice guy he was. She wondered if he’d speak so highly of Cillian, or if his strange vendetta would get the better of him. “Shots for the birthday girl?”

“Oh, not yet. Let me ease myself in.” She laughed weakly, drumming her fingers on the bar.

“Not even one?”

“Why? Are you trying to get me drunk?” She raised a brow, eliciting a chuckle from him.

“Well, you always were fun after a few drinks…” He purred, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. She grimaced at his words, but luckily he didn’t notice as he was too busy waving at the bartender.

He ordered, yelling obnoxiously over the music. Y/N’s eyes wandered across the back of the bar as she absentmindedly bobbed her head to the song playing, mouthing some of the words. “Oh, I’ll get these.” They both turned to see Cillian standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets, a friendly smile on his face.

“It’s alright, mate. I promised I’d get the birthday girl her first drink.” Her husband’s hold on her tightened as he spoke, his fake grin wide enough to blind a man.

Y/N stood there between the two men, her heart pounding as she felt Cillian’s stare on her face. He’d had good intentions coming over, wanting to keep an eye on her, but she wished he’d stayed put at his table. She already struggled to act normal around her husband, and her lover’s presence only made things ten times more difficult.

“Perhaps some shots then? My treat?” Cillian rested his arm on the bar, catching the attention of another bartender.

“She doesn’t want – “

“Shots sound great. Thanks, Cill – ian.” She stuttered, correcting the nickname before her husband noticed. He looked down at his wife, then back at the man beside her who calmly ordered, leaning over the bar so he didn’t have to shout. Funny how she suddenly agreed to shots when he was the one paying…

Cillian passed Y/N and her husband a shot each, and they downed the drinks together. She winced as it burned her throat, sticking out her tongue as she groaned. “Tequila! Are you trying to kill me?”

The Irishman laughed, nodding a last thank you across the bar. “Happy birthday, Y/N.” He smiled sincerely, giving her arm an affectionate squeeze. He left the bar, rejoining the cast and crew and instantly slotting himself into a conversation. She watched him fondly, almost forgetting about the man stood behind her. Stretching his arm over her shoulder, her husband placed the drink into her hand.

She turned and took a sip. “Thank you… Wait, you didn’t take your shot?” She asked, pointing at the full glass on the bar. He shook his head, taking a swig of his beer. “Why not?”

Swallowing with a loud ‘ah’, he shrugged, his expression blank. “I figured it was a moment to be shared between the two of you. Here. Why don’t you have mine?” He slid the shot towards her, tapping the rim of the glass twice. “Go on. It’s your birthday after all.”

“You’ve got some nerve. Can’t you go a day without starting this bloody argument?” She hissed, pushing the shot back to him. Some of it spilt over the edge, leaving a sticky sheen on the bar. “Drink it, and let’s go join my friends.”

“I wouldn’t drink it if you paid me to.” He leaned down to her level, trying to intimidate her, but it didn’t work. She wasn’t scared of him; she just saw him as a pathetic, jealous little boy. When he behaved like this, it made her wonder why she ever felt bad for cheating on him at all.

“Fine. You want to be a child? Then two can play that game, babe.” She spat, turning on her heels and heading towards Cillian. She slipped herself into the group between him and Sophie, linking arms with the woman on her left. “Which one of you is going to dance with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” Sophie squealed, taking Y/N’s drink. “Look after this, will you?” Thrusting it into Cillian’s free hand, she then dragged Y/N into the nearest space, throwing her arms in the air and whooping to the music. They joined hands and spun around like two girls in a playground, shouting the wrong lyrics to the song and giggling uncontrollably.

Y/N twirled around and set her sights on Cillian, beckoning him over with her finger. “I’m not dancing!” He laughed over the music, keeping a firm grip on their drinks. “I’m guarding your drink!”

“No, go on. It’s her birthday.” Her husband goaded, appearing behind Cillian. Y/N frowned as she watched the two men speak, unable to hear what they were saying. Sophie grabbed her and spun her around, putting her back to them.

“Shouldn’t it be you dancing with her?” Cillian asked innocently, gently placing the drinks on the table.

“Oh… I don’t think she’s my friend at the moment.”

Watching his wife dance, he got the sense he was losing her; that she was slipping away from him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He’d noticed how Cillian watched her, that lovesick puppy dog smile pasted on his face and eyes following her every move. He had attended many an event with her past co-stars, and none of them had ever looked at her like that. To him, Cillian was showing off, gloating that he’d lured his wife away from him. He wanted to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face if it was the last thing he ever did.

Y/N stumbled out of Sophie’s grasp, dizzily making her way back to the table. “Everything alright?” She asked, out of breath and reaching for her drink. “It’s a workout dancing with her.”

“Don’t you worry, love. Everything’s fine. I was just talking to Cillian here about you. About the two of you, I mean.” Sniggering behind his glass, he gulped down the remainder of his beer and wiped his mouth, clearing his throat. Cillian’s face contorted in confusion, his fingers gripping the edge of the table, toes curling inside his shoes out of frustration.

“What’s he said to you?” She asked, directing her question to Cillian. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be rudely interrupted.

“So quick to jump to his defence.”

“We’re not doing this here.” Y/N snapped, dropping her glass with a thud. “You are not showing me up in front of my colleagues, my friends.”

“Pick a place then, love. It won’t make a fucking difference.” Her husband could be nasty when need be, but she wasn’t about to stand and take it, especially not with an audience.

“Right - “ Cillian started, cut off by Y/N barging past them both and towards the doors. This caught the attention of her cast mates, which Cillian quickly fed a lie to before speeding after her.

He found her outside, stood against the wall and hunched over, hands clutching her knees. “Y/N, I’m so sor - “

“Cillian, don’t you dare apologise for his behaviour. Do you hear me?” Her voice shook as she spoke, the sudden rush of anger overwhelming her. She slid down the wall, sitting on the pavement, her exposed shoulders flat against the cold bricks. “Who does he think he is? Acting like that in front of everyone? I could lose my fucking job.”

“You wouldn’t lose - “

“Yes, Cillian. I would. If the studio… If the writers found out about this - “

“They won’t.” He asserted, kneeling down so they were on the same level. “They won’t.”

She took a few deep breaths, Cillian’s presence calming her down as he crouched opposite her, his fingers resting lightly on her knees. “You know, for months I have felt like the worst human being in the world. Looking at myself in the mirror and seeing the cheat staring back, the lousy fucking cheat.”

“So, you’re not perfect. You’ve done some, admittedly not great things, but I don’t think anyone in there would blame you.”

“Somehow I don’t think they’d praise me for fucking my co-star behind my husband’s back.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes and rubbing her temple with her fingertips. “God, I’m sorry, Cillian. I’m not trying to… You’re so much more than that, I – “

“It’s alright. You’re upset… And I can handle whatever you throw at me.” He joked, reaching out to pinch her chin.

Hearing the doors swing open, the two flinched, Cillian rising from the ground instinctively. “Well, isn’t this cosy?” Y/N’s husband drawled, sauntering towards them. “So… I was right, yeah? You and him?” He pointed between them, his words directed at Y/N.

“Please…”

“Just answer me. Put me out of my God damn misery.” He threw his arms in the air in defeat, letting them fall to his sides, hitting his thighs with a loud slap.

Pressing her palms against the ground, Y/N pushed herself up, adjusting her dress as she steadied her feet. She approached her husband, and Cillian put his arm out to try and hold her back. “It’s OK, Cill.” She stood looking up at the man she once loved, her hands balled into fists at her side, thumbs picking at the fabric clinging to her legs. “You’re right. You figured it out.”

He exhaled a laugh, kissing his teeth. “I knew it.” Turning away, he ran his hands through his hair, looking up to the sky and sighing deeply. “How long?” He looked back, hands on his hips and brows furrowed. “Y/N, how long?”

“Since my twenty-ninth birthday…” She said shyly, realising just how much worse that made everything look. It had been exactly a year, pretty much to the hour, that she’d shared the first kiss with Cillian that started it all.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Well, I am sorry for interrupting your little anniversary night…” Exasperated, he took a deep breath and exhaled the air with puffed cheeks. “You know what? You are not the woman I married.” He pointed his finger in her face, but she didn’t react. Folding her arms over her chest, she stepped back until she felt Cillian against her, his hands supporting her upper arms. He whispered comforting words into her ear and her eyes began to water as she continued to stare at her husband, distant and unblinking.

Silence fell upon them, and Y/N expected more to be said, but was surprised to witness her husband turn and walk away. Anything else he had left to say was muttered under his breath as he disappeared around the corner. She and Cillian waited a few seconds to see if he would come back, but the street stayed unusually empty and quiet. “It’s alright. He’s gone.” Cillian whispered, and she spun in his arms, clinging onto him desperately.

Her thoughts felt like they were drowning in a whirlpool, like she couldn’t take control of them no matter how hard she tried. The heaviness in her heart had dissipated, but the ache in her stomach and throbbing in her head persisted. “Can we get out of here, please?” She begged, her head buried in Cillian’s chest.

“Shall I tell the others we’re leaving?”

“Just leave it. Please, can we just go?” Her voice cracked as her hold on him tightened, pieces of his shirt screwed up between her fingers.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Lying on the bed, Y/N stared at the ceiling, her fingers ghosting over Cillian’s as he laid beside her. A strange mixture of relief and dread washed over her body, making her feel weak yet incredibly alive at the same time. She wanted to jump up and down, to declare her feelings for Cillian from the highest rooftop she could find. However, another part of her wanted to hide, to burrow under the covers like a scared child until it was safe to come out. She was too afraid to check her phone; it was probably already blowing up with messages from her family and friends.

How could you?

Who was there for you when you were starting out? Did the fame get to your head?

He’s heartbroken! You should be ashamed.

The mere thought of it all made her head spin, and it was far easier to leave her phone on do not disturb and pretend no one else existed for a moment. Her thoughts felt so loud, and she wondered if they both held their breaths for a moment, would Cillian be able to hear the gears twisting and turning inside her brain? Or the steam coming out of her ears?

“Some birthday this was.” She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Am I supposed to feel bad? Like… Is this the point where I’m supposed to cry and scream about how terrible of a person I am?”

“You can if you want to.” Cillian turned his head to the left, and she looked over at the same time, their eyes meeting in the middle.

“No… I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just can’t. I don’t feel bad, not anymore. Is that horrible?”

“How do you feel?”

This was a new feeling for Y/N, for the both of them in fact. Throughout their relationship they’d spoken about everything from their favourite albums to their very particular pet peeves. They’d even spent a whole night debating the existence of aliens, sitting out on the balcony of a hotel room and bickering with each other beneath the stars. The thing they hadn’t really spoken about were their feelings, including their feelings for each other. Those three fateful words were still dangling from the tip of Cillian’s tongue, and there was so much Y/N wanted to say in return.

“I feel… Relieved. I feel free.” Clasping her hands together, she tucked them under her head. “That’s awful to admit, isn’t it?”

“It’s better than pretending.” He rubbed her shoulder soothingly, his thumb slipping beneath the strap of her dress. “Paul was right, you are a vision in red.”

Y/N giggled, swatting his hand away and adjusting the strap. “You are such a flirt!”

They stayed looking at each other, studying each other’s faces as if there was something new to see. Y/N counted the little flecks in Cillian’s bright blue eyes, watching his pupils twitch and change sizes with every few blinks. He added up the freckles on her face, imagining how they’d look if they were connected like tiny constellations across her cheeks. He smiled to himself, his tongue poking out to swipe across his bottom lip. “What?” She asked, eyes squinting with playful suspicion.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” His voice was gentle and quiet, barely reaching above a whisper. It wasn’t necessary in the room they were in. Not a single sound could be heard around them, except for their breathing and bodies shuffling against the sheets. He swallowed his words, assuming that perhaps she wasn’t ready to hear them. It had only been an hour since she confessed to her husband in the street, and he didn’t want to overwhelm her with a big declaration of love. He’d know when the time was right, he was sure of it.

Rolling off the bed, Y/N pressed a kiss to Cillian’s forehead and went to take a shower. Whilst she was gone, he looked around the bedroom, spotting various bits of his belongings scattered from the many times he’d stayed over. Filming for the series was almost complete, and it would soon be time for them to pack up their rentals and head home, wherever that may be. He thought about how things might change now that they technically didn’t have to sneak around anymore. Would people start to notice? Would they be victims of some derogatory Daily Mail headline by morning?

Returning in a towel, Y/N sat on the edge of the bed, combing through her damp hair in the mirror. Cillian knelt behind her, balancing on the mattress as he ducked his head down to press a soft kiss to her shoulder. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the birthday you deserve.” He murmured against her skin. She closed her eyes and hummed, enjoying the feeling of his lips moving across her shoulder blade.

“I think it was exactly what I deserved.” She whispered, turning her head to catch a glimpse of him. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he gazed up at her through his lashes.

“There’s still just under two hours left of it. Do you think we can turn it around?”

“What do you suggest?”

Cillian scrambled to his feet, hitting the carpet with a clumsy thud. Clicking his fingers, he pointed to Y/N, a goofy smile on his face. “You still have that wine in the fridge?”

“You really trust me to drink wine after last time?” She raised a brow then mimed throwing up, clutching her stomach with her arm. “After last time…” She fake gagged, making him grimace.

“OK, OK! Bad idea!”

He stood with one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. Cocking her head to the side, Y/N admired the view in front of her, pinching her bottom lip with her teeth. There was something oddly appealing about Cillian in regular clothes with the signature Tommy Shelby haircut. He wore a crisp white t-shirt with dark jeans, which just happened to be one of her favourite looks on him. It was simple, yet he somehow made it the most attractive thing she’d ever laid eyes on. Her eyes followed the trail of his veins down his forearm, where they reached the hand that sat just above his waistband.

“I’m gonna be honest, that was my only idea.” He laughed, resting his cheek in his hand.

“Cillian…” She said softly, shuffling to the edge of the mattress. “Come here.”

As he approached, she parted her legs, giving him enough room to stand between them. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he looked down, his eyes meeting hers. She looked so beautiful like this; just wearing a towel with unruly wet strands of hair stuck to the sides of her face. Her cheeks blushed a light pink, decorated in a couple of stray droplets of water from the shower.

“Closer.” She whispered, reaching up to grab his shirt. He lifted his knee and rested it on the mattress beside her, using his hands as support as he hovered over her, lowering her until she was laid on her back.

“Is this close enough?” He breathed, his palms flat on either side of her head.

“Almost…”

He lowered himself further as if he was performing a press-up, using the strength in his wrists to steady himself above her. “This will do.” She smiled, bringing her lips to meet his.

Dropping to his elbows, Cillian weaved his hands into her hair, tugging gently at the root. She moaned softly into his mouth, arching her back to inch herself closer to him and press their chests together. He groaned, a shiver coursing through his body as the towel around her dampened his shirt.

Pulling away from the kiss, they each opened their eyes and gazed at the other, panting quietly with heat-flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Their faces were just close enough to still be able to see one another properly without their vision blurring. Y/N sighed, her forefinger tracing the curve of his cheekbone. “Are you OK?” Cillian asked, running the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip.

“Yeah, I just…” She couldn’t concentrate with his fingers under her chin, featherlight and careful across her skin. Blinking slowly, she relaxed into his touch, relishing in the feeling of the goosebumps that prickled her cheeks.

“We can stop if you want.”

“No, no. That’s not what I want. Quite the opposite, actually.” Her words weren’t exactly a lie, but they didn’t seem to match the look on her face.

Worried, he flipped onto his side and laid next to her, his right hand finding a loose piece of thread hanging from the towel and twisting it around his finger. “If you need a bit of space for a while – “

“No, Cillian. Please don’t say that.”

“Alright, I’m sorry…”

“I just don’t know what happens next. Am I supposed to announce it to everyone? Do I file for divorce on Monday? How does this all work?” She laughed slightly, mostly at herself for being so clueless. “I think telling everyone my marriage is over will be the easy part. How do I tell them about us?”

“Well, the divorce stuff can wait for a bit. You don’t need to rush into anything.” He patted the bed, searching for her hand. She turned her palm upwards, letting his slide over the top and their fingers entwine. “As for telling anyone…”

“What?” She rolled onto her side, mirroring his position. “Do you think we should tell people?”

“I was going to say, is there really any need in telling anyone yet? I mean, we’ve kept it between the two of us for this long already and – “

“Yes, but that was because we didn’t have a choice.”

“I know... but just think about it. I think it would be weirder if we charged into work next week and announced it to everyone.”

She stared at a crease in Cillian’s shirt, daydreaming about how things were going to be. He was right. They didn’t need to shout about it, and Y/N certainly didn’t want to draw any attention to herself just yet. She already knew what people were going to think of her and label her as, and she wanted to delay the backlash for as long as possible; whether her husband was going to allow that was another story…

Cillian opened his arms for her, scooting higher onto the bed so his feet were no longer dangling off the edge. She followed, snuggling into him and tangling her legs with his. The silence between them was heavy, like there were a million words going unsaid. Y/N knew that Cillian was everything she wanted, but a small part of her worried about what would happen to her husband. Being married to someone for four years was going to leave a stamp on her forever, but she sincerely hoped he’d be OK, and that he wouldn’t try to inflict a war on her and Cillian. She knew in time that things would smooth themselves out and feel normal, but for now, she was content to sit in her little confusing bubble, just as long as Cillian was in it with her.

“Cill?”

“Mhm?”

“When we met earlier in wardrobe, and I spotted that box, what was in it?” She smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

“You really wanna know?” She nodded. “OK… Well, that box wasn’t actually for you.”

“What?”

“I don’t know what was in it! It was already there.”

“Cillian!” She slapped his chest playfully and he huffed, feigning hurt. “Why did you say it was for me?”

“Technically, I didn’t! You just assumed.” He laughed, watching her cheeks redden and brows knit together. “Don’t look so disappointed! Listen, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow when I give, or rather take you to your real present.”

“Now I’m intrigued.”

“That’s all I’m saying! I’m not going to spoil it.”

“Fine…” He hugged her tightly, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. She listened to his heartbeat, counting the thumps in sets of eight. Looking up from his chest, she was surprised to see him already looking at her. “What about my other present?” She whispered.

“What do you – Oh, right. That.”

She sat up, kneeling beside him so she could see him better. He rotated onto his back, folding his arms across his chest, and tucking his hands under his arms. “Y/N – “

“No, wait!” She turned her head, fixing her messy hair and readjusting the towel around her body. Turning back with a flip of her hair and a dramatic flailing of her arms, she gestured for him to sit up.

“What are you doing?”

Awkwardly crawling closer on her knees, she ran the back of her hand over his cheek, leaving it to rest below his jaw. “Cillian.”

“Y/N.” He chuckled, and she immediately hushed him. She tried her best to be serious, but laughter threatened to burst out of her. “Whatever you’re doing, please get on with it because you’re freaking me ou – “

“Here it comes…” She spoke in her best attempt at an Irish accent, cringing at herself.

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” He threw his head back, belly laughing, and she grabbed him by his shirt to pull him back. Composing himself, he bit his cheeks to refrain from laughing any more. “Sorry… Go on.”

“I love you.”

He was silent, staring at her as he ran his fingers along his upper lip nervously. He knew it was coming, yet it still caught him by surprise, hearing those words come out of her mouth. He’d heard her say them plenty of times when they were in character, but this was different. They sounded so sweet when they finally meant something, and feeling her eyes on him made his heart pound in his chest. “Too cheesy?” Y/N asked, dropping the terrible accent.

“Cheesy, but I liked it.”

Sitting down cross-legged, she reached her hand out for him which he gladly took. He kissed her knuckles softly, keeping his lips there as he looked up at her. “I love you too.” He confessed. Both their bodies seemed to slump as if a weight they’d been carrying had been lifted, and despite everything that had happened, or rather gone wrong, that night, this moment felt right. He kissed her again, before slotting his fingers between hers and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “And we’re going to be OK.”

#cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy oneshot #peaky blinders #cillian murphy

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tolkienrsb · 1 month

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& 2024 Schedule Premiere

It’s almost time for TRSB 2024! Sign ups for artists for TRSB 2024 open in a month. The full schedule for 2024 can be found here.

To start getting excited for this year’s event, please enjoy the opening of the TRSB 2023 Gallery (and the completion of the TRSB 2022 Gallery!) Many thanks to @usuallysublimepenguin for doing the lion’s share of the work to get both galleries ready and online and to @fishing4stars for supporting that effort!

Before the suggestions form opens on March 24th, we want to invite veteran participants to share their wisdom about the event. If you were speaking to someone curious about participating in TRSB for the first time, what would your advice be on picking what to draw? Or, as an author, what do you look for in a prompt?

The mods have given their own answers under the cut. We can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

~TRSB Mods 2024

Mods answer the question:

Fishing4Stars (roles: artist, writer): As a writer I look for prompts that either give me a clear inspiration that I think matches the artist’s idea - or that leave me enough flexibility to write something I find inspiring. Either works! I do get inspired by my favorite characters, but the underlying idea can be a great source as well. I had a blast writing a story focused on Thorin last year even though he’s not a character I normally write for because the underlying prompt, about being an outcast and having a complex identity, inspired me. I loved working closely with the artist on this - I will probably make my ‘involvement level’ preference this year more specific, because I’d love to do that again.

I think my biggest takeaways as an artist after participating last year were:

(1) Be a little selfish when picking prompts: As an artist, I’m responsible for supporting my writers and their works - whether cheerleading, brainstorming, beta reading, or hands off, my writer deserves for me to be excited to read their work in September and give them comments. So it’s to both our benefit for me to pick something I like and want to read. Last year I picked a prompt off the suggestions list that I normally wouldn’t have. It actually turned out really well and I had tons of fun reading it, but it did make me think about maybe giving slightly more personalized prompts this year.

(2) Leaving room for collaboration can be fun: Both of the works I submitted last year were in mostly finished form. The bit of collaboration I got to do to adjust the work to the writer’s story was really fun, though. So this year I’m thinking about leaving some room for the writer to weigh in on the art.

Usuallysublimepenguin (role: artist): I’ve participated as an artist for a few years now and can warmly recommend joining, as it’s been such a joy every time.

Regarding the prompt list, I can certainly echo Fishing4Stars: draw something that you like! The list is great for sparking ideas, but be careful of picking the very specific ones; they might be something the prompter would want to read but not necessarily write. So, if it’s not something you want to draw, do not pick it. Use the list for inspiration, or if the list is too dauntingly large, go for something completely different from your own head.

My prompts have gone from quite detailed "Lothiriel, a new bride getting to know Éomer" to very open "here's one or two characters in a pose I wanted to draw; please fill in the blanks" or "Here's a landscape; please fill in the details." Keep in mind that the open prompts require quite high levels of collaboration, and that the stories might take you to new places you never even thought existed - but for me that works very well. Every single story that came from these prompts are dear to me.

Ettelenë (roles: writer, sometimes artist). Since I am mainly a writer who sometimes draws, I tend to pick prompts that suit the characters or stories I want to tell. The first time I participated as a writer, it was with a prompt/character I never thought I would write about (mermaid Voronwë!), and, surprisingly, it was not the most challenging time. So, to start, writing or drawing something completely out of our comfort zones can actually draw people in. Nowadays, though, as I don't have much time to write a fully complex story with worldbuilding etc, I’ll go for the prompts that I am 100% sure I can bang 5k in the blink of an eye. As for drawings, I usually stick with what I do best, which is watercolor. And curiously enough, the two times I did art for TRSB, it was about the Valar, characters I mostly never write about, but who always spark my artistic creativity.

Raiyana (roles: writer): I have a tendency to fall in love with a piece or an idea and fall HARD… so far, happily, the artists have been pleased to have me write for them ;) And then I find that weird secondary prompt in the gallery, generally during second claims, that tickles Something. I usually filter out characters/ideas I definitely can’t do and then something or someone (often a co mod, actually) will challenge me to come up with a way to do a prompt and spark another fire of creativity ;).

I never thought I’d be able to write a streamer script version of FoG, but here we are…

Lathalea (roles: writer, artist): When I joined TRSB for the first time, as a writer, I definitely felt overwhelmed with the size of the event and the amount of prompts, and then art pieces. It wasn’t easy to pick just one, so many of them screamed “pick me!”. I managed to narrow them down and mull over them for some time. I asked myself what ideas and parts of the Tolkien legendarium spoke to me the most, what “blank areas” of Middle Earth I would like to fill with my works, and how I wanted to do this. What I learned back then is that it worked for me best to focus on a very particular and narrow theme so that I could delve into proper worldbuilding – which is something I live for when it comes to Dwarves and their culture.

Finally, I chose the one that sparked the most creativity in me that year. I feel that for writers who decide to work on a specific art piece, prompts can be a great help, making you enrich your story or add a detail or two that you wouldn’t have thought of otherwise. As a bonus, you get at least one very happy reader: the author of that specific prompt!

One year later, I decided to submit art for TRSB because I liked the prompts so much – I just had to create a piece of visual art inspired by them. It resulted in a great cooperation that explored a completely new subject that I always wanted to focus on but never had a chance to do properly before.

Feel free to surprise yourself and pick prompts or ideas you haven’t worked on before, you never know what way your creativity will go!

Legolasbadass (roles: writer, artist): There are always too many great artworks, so I usually make a list of pieces I’d be most interested in writing for to help narrow down my choices. I look for ideas and characters I am most inspired by and comfortable writing about — though it can also be fun to step out of your comfort zone and try something new! Another really important thing for me is the collaboration level. I really enjoy brainstorming with the artist, sharing my progress with them, and getting regular feedback, so I tend to avoid choosing artists who prefer a less collaborative experience.

When looking for inspiration for art, I usually look at the answers to the suggestions form as well as my personal list of prompts and pick an idea that I’d be most excited to share with someone. The collaborative aspect of the event is what excites and inspires me the most, so I tend not to submit an idea I feel too possessive of. I like working closely with an author and letting their vision inspire my art as much as my art will inspire their story.

#tolkien fandom event #trsb24 #tolkien reverse summer bang #tolkien fanart

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vettelsvee · 18 days

Text

I HEREBY ANNOUNCE MY RETIREMENT | Sebastian Vettel

history series masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

summary: seb has finally done it. he has finally shot the video for the retirement announcement alongside his wife, his three kids, his sister and, of course, britta. everything seems perfect except one thing that the vettel couple has been avoiding: the apple tv offer to do a documentary about their journey in formula 1 for the past 15 years.

word count: 2272

warnings: none of them! just husband!seb with their kids and his wife + the retirement video being shot

taglist: @theseerbetweenus if you wanna be tagged in each part just tell me in the comments <3

feedback is truly appreciated!

2022

Switzerland May 10th

"I hereby announce my retirement from Formula 1 by the end of the 2022 season."

Diana, who was in front of his husband, nodded her head while she was standing next to his sister. The Aston Martin driver was focused on reading everything he had to say thanks to the prompter he had a few meters away from him.

After a pause, Vettel continued reading the speech he prepared with a huge effort for more time that he'd like to remember. The German was absolutely conscious that his life would change the moment that video was published, and he was every time more aware that there was no time to go back.

"As much as I love life on track, there's life off track too," he said. "The decision of me retiring hasn't been an easy one, but after talking with myself, with my wife and many more important people in my life, I came up with the conclusion that it's time to take a step forward. If I say that Formula 1 hasn't been a crucial part of my life, I'm lying and I'd be just a hypocrite. I got many achievements as a driver, but also the biggest one a man could ask for: having the opportunity to form your own family."

Britta, his PR, looked and analyzed her client's voice and gestures. After many years together, their relationship went from a just professional to a familiar one. The woman tried to think about the impact the words of the four-time world champion in the biggest motorsport category would have on people, but those moments were tough to think about.

"As many of you may know, my job demands an enormous effort both physically and mentally. For this reason I would like, from now on," the voice of the bond man began to tremble slightly with contained emotion, "to dedicate more time to my family: my wife, Diana, whom you all know for being the one who made my first victory possible, and the one who's been by my side as a strategist since 2012; and, of course, to my little ones, Emily, Charlotte and Matilda. Every time I come back home, they've grown at least five centimeters!"

The little girls, who were barely aware of what their dad's message would entail, were busy playing with their aunt, Lara, a game she suggested: to stay as quiet as they could, so the winner would be the first to talk to uncle Lando that day.

"I want to be the father and husband they deserve," Seb continued, looking tenderly at his daughters playing and the baby Diana was holding. "I want to be there for every significant moment, every laugh, every tear, every achievement, and every failure, because if there's one thing I've learned over these past ten years is that, in order to succeed, sometimes we must experience failure first."

Diana, with the emotion running through her veins, tightly grasped her sister-in-law's hand while, quickly, tried to wipe away the tears in her eyes.

"I would like to take this moment to express my gratitude to every team and teammate I've been working with, whether they're a driver or not. And last, but not least, to the fans of the sport," he paused briefly:" you've made my life both heaven and hell most of the times, and even though there have been ups and downs during these 15 years, I genuinely thank you from the bottom of my heart for the support you've given me after all this time."

Once Sebastian nodded his head, Britta rushed to turn off the camera that was in front of him. Finally, the German could breathe a sigh of relief, although there was still something more important that he had to face with Diana.

The looks the women gave him were a mix of nostalgia, support and price, though the latter was most prominent. Immediately, the little girls ran to their father, who was still sitting in the chair where he had remained throughout the recording. Seeing his oldest closer, followed by the middle one, he decided to get down on his knees with his arms open and ready to give them a hug.

"Daddy, I'm so proud of you," said Emily, clinging tightly to her dad's neck, "now you'll be able to take us to school because we'll be able to go to school!"

Sebastian laughed, wrapping his daughters with his arms, taking special care not to harm Charlotte who, due to her shorter stature, barely reached her father's chest. She withdrew with a swift movement, and then, once her sister had given her green light, she raised her little arms while approaching Vettel, who picked her up in the air and carried her on his hips.

"I love you so so so much, daddy," the middle daughter of the Vettels said, brimming with joy while playing with the driver's curls.

Vettel gently kissed the younger one's cheek and tousled Emily's hair, affectionately taking her by her shoulders in order to bring her closer to him, on the opposite side where her sister was.

"I've spent a lot of time with the fast guys, so now it's my turn to be with you and mom", the man explained to his girls. "In fact, I'm pretty sure aunt Lara will visit Lando more than once." "Uncle Lando!" Charlotte squealed in his ear, correcting her father. "It's uncle Lando, daddy," corrected the girl.

Lara approached her brother with a knowing look, silently conveying that she would take the girls and the baby so that he could have that intimate conversation with his wife about the documentary that had talked a lot. Sebastian nodded in agreement, and he started to feel a sense of tension as the dark-haired woman extended both hands towards her nieces, and took little Matilda in her arms.

"What do you think about FaceTime with Lando, little ones?" suggested Lara. "We can explain to him the game we've been playing so he can join us the next time he comes over." The girls, excited to talk to the British driver they liked so much —unlike a certain Dutchman who had dated their aunt previously— quickly took Lara's hands and dragged her towards their playroom.

"Yes, yes, let's call uncle Lando!"

Their almost simultaneous voices could be heard in the distance. Finally, only the married couple and their public relations remained.

Britta had tried to talk to the married couple on multiple occasions about the offer that Apple TV had presented to make a documentary about the four-time world champion's career at the end of the 2021 season, but the efforts had been in vain. Now, with the ultimatum that the publicist had received from the streaming platform just a couple of days before, it was clear that they couldn't avoid the topic anymore, and Diana and Sebastian Vettel were aware of it.

"Seb, Di," the older woman began, "I know you both have a completely different view on the documentary, but the answer is simple: yes or no."

Vettel sighed, feeling his body tense up.

"Britta: you, of all people, know everything I went through at RedBull," the German explained, trying not to get upset. "You know that the hate and negative criticism were constant, and they didn't stop no matter how much not only me, but also Di, proved otherwise."

"We need to weigh the pros and cons before making a decision, boy," Britta replied, "even though we don't have much time for that."

"Sunshine," Diana joined the conversation, "I understand you're afraid, but you can't let your past hold you back. Plus, we've matured over all these years, and I think it's the perfect opportunity to silence many of those who spoke, and still speak, against us."

The PR nodded in response to the driver's wife's words, acknowledging that both viewpoints had some merit.

Still, there wasn't a clear answer yet.

"Sebastian, trust me, I completely understand what you're saying, but you have to consider the incredibly positive impact this documentary can have not only to you image, but also to you projects. Obviously, you image was 'cleaned up' the moment you joined Ferrari, and you weren't seen as the enemy anymore, but..."

"Britta", the redhair interrupted, "I'm sorry to cut you off, but I'd like to remind you that during my husband's time at the red team, they were still playing dirty tricks on us," she explained, her voice tinged with anger. "Not only we were hounded by paparazzi almost all the time, they also leaked a private video of us! And do you remember when I went into labor, and they chased Charles, Mick and I? And many other things that you, from everyone, knows."

Neither of the other two knew how to respond to Diana.

"You have no idea what I've had to face," the driver's wife continued, "every day, for all these years. I don't regret accepting the offer Toro Rosso gave me back in 2008 to be an intern while I studied my degree," she explained, "but I don't think I would have accepted it if I had known everything I would have to go through to live my happily ever after."

"Darling..."

"No, Sebastian!" the youngest woman shouted, furious, pushing her husband's hand away. "I don't want to sound selfish, and you both know it well... Honestly, I don't want to be resentful or hurt those who talked shit about us, but I'd love people to know our story, or real story, from our point of view."

Britta didn't know what to say in response to the words of the girl she had known for many years, but she knew she was right. Sebastian, on the other hand, reflected Diana's words for a few moments that felt like an eternity. His wife sometimes was scary as hell, and that was one of those moments he didn't like to face.

Finally, he spoke with a trembling voice:

"Alright, let's do it," he announced as firmly as he could, cautiously getting closer to his wife.

Minutes later, they were all seated on the family room sofa, ready to formally discuss the terms they would set with Apple TV in the upcoming meeting to commit to making the documentary. Once again, Sebastian was the first one to speak:

"I want to make sure that the documentary portrays a complete picture of our years in Formula 1," the man explained. "I don't just want them to focus on the challenges we've faced, but also on the achievements we've made. I want people to understand that there's more beyond all controversies and manipulations."

Diana agreed with her husband.

"I'd like to address the issue of sexism that has been surrounding this sport for years, and everything I've had to face to make myself a place in the industry," she said. "I want to be seen not just as Sebastian's wife and mother of his children, but also as the engineer who made possible not only his first F1 victory, but also two consecutive world championships."

Britta listened carefully to the couple's comments while taking notes on her laptop, essential to discuss the terms with the production company. Once the married couple finished, the publicist went out to explain what she had discussed with Apple TV:

"According to the draft I received," she began to explain, "which, by the way, you haven't read yet, it states that they are willing to work closely with you to make sure that your story is told fairly," she lifter her gaze from the PDF document to look at both of them. "Diana, they would also be proud to address issues related to sexism because it's still very much present in the sport today."

Sebastian and Diana nodded, satisfied to hear the contract details from Britta. However, there was still an important matter for the family to discuss:

"I, also," Vettel continued, "want to establish boundaries regarding the privacy of our personal lives: we want to share our story, but not intimate details, and certainly not about the girls. They are the most important ones here, and even though they're our greatest gifts, they shouldn't be part of this narrative. Also... you know what happens with Michael. That is the best kept secret."

"No problem, Seb," the PR answered, "we'll make sure to add that both in the email I'll be sending and in the meeting we'll be having next month with the program's executives and producers. Not the Michael part, of course."

"Do we already have a date for it?" Diana asked with interest.

"Next month," the older woman replied, noting the busy schedule Sebastian would have leading up to summer break. "Specifically on June 22nd, just a few days after the Canadian Grand Prix."

She continued discussing details related to the production schedule, the technical resources that would be used to have the best quality possible and, most importantly, how the announcement of the documentary would be made and how the episoded would be distributed. She emphasized to her clients that nothing was signed yet, and changes could still be made in the future.

Sebastian and Diana, once again, agreed with everything Roeske discussed with them, felino a mix of emotions between them that they had never experienced before, not even during their worst moments.

"I know we're ready for this new chapter, girls," Seb declared, looking at the two women who had accompanied him throughout his professional racing career and had never left him behind. "They're finally going to hear us, whether they like it or not."

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