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paradiseprincesss · 2 days

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OMG OMG OMG. now i KNOW you aren’t taking requests. but im helping you out with your cillian story. reader is having an affair with cillian, they meet either on set or at an awards show and she’s whipped for him. but he just won’t leave his toxic wife. all to the song fantasize by ariana 🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️

fantasize - cillian murphy x reader

masterlist

notes: thank you to my pookie @ilovetoxicfictionalmen for helping me with the idea of this entire thing she served and she did not come to play i love her - okay so this is my first actual cillian fic and lowkey i was nervous to post it but slay? this is lowkey based off the ariana grande scandal lol and also completely based off fantasize by ariana grande (unreleased). also sorry if theres any mistakes i edited it but i got lazy like halfway through lmaoo

summary: cillian falls for a young, talented singer who finds out he's married, and she gives him an ultimatum; either get a divorce and then she'll give him a chance, or don't ever talk to her again because she's not that kind of girl. after nearly a year of not speaking, news breaks that he's divorced his wife - and suddenly, he shows up to her home in los angeles begging for her love because he can't seem to forget about her.

word count: 9.1k

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, cheating/affair, divorce, age gap (unspecified but reader is early 20's and cillian is 47), fingering, p in v, general smut obviously, pining (a tad bit), pathetic desperate cillian, cillian doesn't have kids in this au

"over here!"

"one more, just look here for a second, gorgeous!"

"are you going to be performing tonight?"

"when is the album dropping?"

the cameras flashed in your pretty face, and the reporters and paparazzi continued to yell out questions and take pictures of you as you walked down the carpet in a rush to get inside.

tonight was the oscars - it was a pretty big deal in hollywood, and as an a-list singer, you were invited to attend of course. yes, you were fresh onto the scene, so young you had barely finished high school by the time your name was being plastered in the tabloids, but now a few years later, you were a household name. your voice captured the hearts of many, and you were ever so grateful for your adoring fans.

after the release of your debut album, your fame skyrocketed. barely entering into your twenties, you already had multiple musical awards ranging from ama's to grammy's. there wasn't a person alive who didn't know your name. not only were you a talented singer who's voice hit octaves that could shatter glass, but you were a beauty icon.

with your iconic sense of style and that gorgeous face of yours, you weren't hard to miss. everything down to the last detail about you had many swooning, including some of the biggest names in hollywood. tonight, you wore a stunning, black, sultry gown custom made by vera wang herself, and matching black pumps that were from valentino. your stylist absolutely delivered on your hair and makeup so tonight - all eyes were on you.

you were rumoured to be performing at the oscars this year. the rumours had started to circulate a few weeks prior with fans getting all amped up about a possible performance from you. however, tonight you were just there to attend and look stunning on the carpet, as well as maybe catch up with some of your fellow celebrity friends. you weren't the type to step out onto every red carpet, so when you did, you made headlines.

as you stepped away from the flashing lights and the buzzing reporters, you finally made your way into the venue where the oscars were being held. this year, they had set things up a little differently than they usually did. most of the time, it was like a theatre of some kind. rows and rows of seating like you would see in the movie theatres, but this year, they switched it up. instead of the normal seating arrangements, they had cloth covered round tables with name plates.

your team got you seated at a table quite close to the front; the venue was already pretty much fully packed once you got inside, actors and singers alike were all mingling with each other. tonight, you were seated at a table with a few other young singers and talented individuals - billie eilish and olivia rodrigo being two of them.

"you look amazing." billie said to you as soon as she noticed you, and olivia looked up from her phone with a smile. "you totally do, i love this dress on you!" olivia agreed sweetly.

"oh my gosh, look at you two, though!" you say, excitedly catching up with two of your closest friends in the business. the three of you continued chatting for a while amongst yourselves, and billie pointed to the table diagonally across from yours.

"dude, cillian murphy is sitting over there - holy shit." she laughs, and you and olivia peek over at the table billie gestured to.

there at a table sat the cast of oppenheimer, and even for someone as famous as yourself - you were starstruck at the sight of him. he was undeniably gorgeous...and definitely way too old for you. you were aware that cillian was a very private guy, never really stepping out into the public eye other than to act or do a quick interview every now and then, but seeing him in person had your head spinning. he was even better looking in person than any photos that you'd ever seen of him.

as you, billie, and olivia stared at the seasoned actors and actresses seated across from you, cillian glanced over - and all three of you looked away, feeling like silly, teenage school girls. "shit," you giggle, "that's embarrassing."

"awkward." billie laughed, and olivia laughed along with the two of you. the topic of conversation switched quickly, and the three of you continued to talk about everything under the sun. eventually, the lights started to dim and the room started to go quiet as the host stepped out on stage. you'd never been to the oscars before, only other award shows, so you were watching in awe as this was your first year attending.

throughout the award show, you stole little glances at cillian; he was mesmerizing, and his blue eyes were truly breathtaking. halfway through the award show, cillians name was announced and he accepted an oscar for his performance in oppenheimer. you applauded along with the rest of the crowd, and he did his little acceptance speech before joining the rest of the cast back at his table.

while he stood up there, you couldn't help but notice how perfect he was - not a flaw existed on this man. as you watched him with hearts in your eyes, you almost felt your heart leap out of your throat as the two of you made eye contact for just a second. however, he quickly returned his gaze to something else, almost looking flustered to have looked your way.

afterwards, cillian and the rest of the cast all did a little cheers to his award. they put their champagne glasses down and continued to watch the host on stage. whilst many talented actors and actresses went up to claim their oscars, your eyes were focused on something else - rather, someone else.

you couldn't help but keep looking over at the older man across from you; nobody in hollywood had truly captured your attention the way he did. love at first sight, perhaps. sure, your sweet personality and jaw-dropping beauty had many a-list men and women swooning, but you never felt inclined to date someone in the same industry as you - they usually had a reputation. there was always something wrong with them, whether they were substance addicts or a serial cheater; you didn't want to stick around and find out.

your heart rate spiked when those stunningly blue eyes you'd been staring at all evening suddenly locked with yours once more, and you looked away hastily, out of both sheer embarrassment and awkwardness from being caught staring. you immediately started to pay attention to the award show, not daring to glance back over at his table. after the host wrapped up the show, everyone got ready to head to the oscars afterparty.

you made your way to the venue with billie and olivia, along with some other young women your own age, and headed straight to the bar. you ordered a cosmopolitan, then another, and then one more. after socializing and drinking, you went to one of the many tables scattered across the room. sitting down, you sigh and sip on your third cosmo of the night.

"excuse me," an smooth, irish accent came from beside you, "d'you mind if i join you?"

looking up in awe, you see none other than cillian murphy himself - looking handsome as ever in his suit - standing with a glass of whiskey in his hands. you felt at a loss for words, but nodded and swallowed. "not at all." you say, gesturing for him to sit.

"i'm sorry," he laughs softly, "i had to come over and say hi. i'm actually a bit of a fan. i watched your performance at the grammy's a few months ago - you're incredibly talented. you have a beautiful voice."

as he tells you this, you felt your jaw drop. cillian murphy, the man himself, thought you were talented? you look at him with an adoring smile, and nod as you took everything that he said in. if you were being honest; you didn't think he even knew who you were.

"that means, like, so much coming from you. i saw oppenheimer and your portrayal of him was amazing. everything you do is...amazing." you gush, and he smiles bashfully. honestly - you found it quite endearing that he was even approaching you and talking to you like this; wasn't he well known for being so reserved and frankly, a little shy or even awkward?

"ah, i appreciate that." he smiles softly, "it's admirable how successful you are - especially for someone so young."

you bit your lip as he mentioned your youthfulness, feeling both mentally and physically weak in the presence of this man. you felt your head spinning; was this really happening right now?

you shrug, trying to play it off as cool as possible. "i appreciate that, truly." you say softly, looking at him with the same starstruck expression as before.

he was quiet for a good minute, taking in your every detail. you noticed his eyes lingered to the dip in your dresses neckline, before speaking again in his gorgeous irish accent.

"m'sorry, you must get this all the time, but you're absolutely stunning." he says casually.

you thought you'd misheard him at first when he said those words. this was cillian murphy of all people - and he was casually throwing out compliments to you. not to mention he was more than twice your age; it was almost morally wrong. almost, but it seemed that neither of you seemed to care about that. not that you really should, anyway.

"t-thank you! i think that, um, you're..." you stammer out, but trail off. you were three drinks in, a little past tipsy, and so utterly starstruck by him that you couldn't muster up the courage to tell him how attractive you found him.

he seemed to understand your nervousness, and gently, he placed one of his hands on your upper thigh with a soft laugh. "nerves?" he asks sympathetically, and you nod your head, laughing along with him. "it's your first time at the oscars, right?"

"yeah," you confess with a smile, "sometimes, i feel like i'm still not used to the whole 'celebrity' thing."

"understandable, you're s'young. it only makes sense." he tells you, once again reminding you of how young you were in comparison to him, whilst his hand was literally resting on your thigh. "if you want, we could go back to my hotel room to chat. you know, to ease your nerves if crowded rooms aren't your thing."

you almost had to stop yourself from fangirling out loud, and with a small nod and a soft smile, you take him up on his offer. "y-yeah, okay. sure."

you were almost certain that he wasn't taking you back to his hotel room for the sake of rescuing you from your social anxiety, but you let it slide. i mean, he's cillian murphy - you'd let just about anything he did slide.

he softly took your hand in his, walking you out to the exit with him, and a few people glanced over in surprise. you tried to pay them no mind, but you knew how it must've looked to others. cillian and you got into his car with his driver, and the both of you headed back to his hotel. once the two of you got to his room, he closed the door behind him and threw his suit jacket over the back of the couch.

you stood there a little awkwardly, mostly because you were so nervous, but also because you'd never been this close with a man so much older than you before. cillian made his way over to you, and softly put his hand on your waist, his thumb trailing little circles over the fabric of your dress.

"is this okay?" he asked softly, and you nodded.

"mhm." you answer, looking up into those striking blue eyes of his.

his other hand trails up your spine, and then to the back of your neck, running his hands through your hair gently. softly, he pulled you closer, closing the gap between the two of you. you were in shock; but you kissed back. it was electrifying. here you were, standing in cillian murphy's hotel room, kissing him. you thought that surely you were dreaming.

the two of you continued to share a few more kisses which then turned into making out, and suddenly you were laying back on his bed with him on top of you. he continued to kiss you deeply, hands roaming all over your body until something seemingly got stuck in a loose thread on your dress. as you both pulled away hesitantly, you noticed something on his hand gotten stuck on that loose thread - a ring.

and no, it wasn't just some regular old ring, and surely not one just to accessorize. the gold band shone on his ring finger, and you saw it for what it was - a wedding ring. you looked down at the ring, and then back at him. how could you have not seen it before?

it seemed in this moment, he knew he'd fucked up as he cleared his throat and started to stumble over his words.

"i-it's not-" he tried to explain, "i'm leaving her."

you looked at him in shock, and in the heat of the moment, you pushed him off of you with a scoff. "you're married?" you ask angrily, "are you fucking kidding me?"

"yes, but-" he tried to interject, but you weren't having it.

"that's disgusting," you spat, "have some respect, jesus christ."

you were already getting up from the bed, grabbing your purse from the kitchen counter as your designer heels clicked against the wooden floors. everything went south so quickly; from when you met to how you ended up in his bed, making out - it was all just one big blurry mess to you now. you didn't know he was married, and if you did, you never would have accepted his offer to come back to his hotel room - let alone let him put his hand on your thigh.

"wait, please-" he begged, following you as you collected your things, "i can explain."

"really?" you asked sarcastically, "you can explain how you're married, yet you decided to take a woman less than half your age to your hotel room?"

"yes," he exasperated, "i'm leaving her, i swear. we're getting a divorce."

you scoffed, this wasn't the first time you'd heard this excuse. hollywood men were sleazy. this was a known fact, and you'd lost count of the amount of men who had slid into your dms telling you that they were getting a divorce or leaving their woman for you. it's not like you ever replied or cared to give in, but still - you knew what they were like.

cillian knew what he was saying was wrong on so many levels - but he couldn't stop himself when it came to you. within seconds of seeing you, you drove him wild. you were a type of beauty he'd never seen before, someone you just feel instantly drawn to.

"well," you say, after a riviting moment of silence, "we'll see about that." you turned to grab the door handle with your purse thrown over your shoulder.

cillian suddenly reached out to grab your arm out of instinct, not willing nor ready to let you go just yet. "please," he sighed, "please - just give me a chance." he said, feeling extremely pathetic for begging like this.

you stayed silent and shot him a stern look, and he took this as his opportunity to continue whatever tangent he was already on. "i'm trying to divorce her as quick as i can but it's just so complicated" he explained, "you're just so gorgeous, fuck, and you're- you're everything i want- no, need."

you stayed quiet for another few seconds, once again trying to process what was coming out of this mans mouth.

"listen," you sigh, "i don't mess with married men, i'm not that kind of girl - but if you actually go through with that divorce - if you're genuinely serious about that, then maybe we can talk."

and with that, you pushed his arm off of you, stepping out of his hotel room and slamming the door behind you. as much as you wanted him to be yours - you knew it was wrong. you were meant to be on your own, not with a man who was married to another woman. what kind of woman would that make you if you were to let something happen between the two of you? you could never do anything like that. i mean, you would but, you were just too nice - and too hot.

you found his driver outside of the hotel, and you told him to drive you back to your hotel. that night, you took a steamy shower to try and clear your mind - but you couldn't shake the thought of him. usually, you paid no mind to any men, married or not, but if you were being honest; you couldn't stop fantasizing about cillian.

you couldn't help but think of him in all the wrong ways while you were laying in bed. you didn't even know why. that night, you had trouble falling asleep, your mind was far too occupied by fantasies of what it would be like to be his. this was only the beginning of such fantasies that would play out in your head for many months to come, but you didn't stop yourself from imagining them.

you'd fantasize about him all the time. if he was yours, you'd give him every part of you, nine to five and five to nine. your life hadn't been the same since you met him. sure, you hated it at first but soon, those little fantasies started to fuel you. you knew he was crazy about you, too. he'd even create little burner accounts to stalk your social media to see what you were doing - but you never wanted to give off the impression that you felt the same. at least, not yet you didn't.

it had been a hectic last few months with all the award shoes and red carpets that came after the oscars, but now you had some downtime. award season was over, and that meant you had more free time to stay out of the public eye and work on your second album, which you were excited to share. however, there was another small reason why you chose to stay out of the public eye.

photos of you and cillian, hands intertwined, had leaked to the media. apparently, the two of you in your inebriated states didn't notice some fans lingering around the area hoping to catch a glimpse of some celebrities. those people snapped some photos of the two of you, and then sold them to multiple media outlets.

the backlash was what you expected - sort of. the media had painted you to be the innocent one in this scandal, and rather cillian the one in the wrong. to be fair, that's what the truth was anyways, but you were glad that in this day and age, you had the internet backing you up and not ripping you to shreds. there were multiple articles talking about how "cillian murphy, 47, tried to take advantage" of you and how he was straying from his wife for "someone who was more than two decades younger."

you were pretty silent on social media for a while, and you only got around to updating and posting like you normally did just last week. the comments scared you as you weren't sure what people would have to say, but everyone was surprisingly supportive of you. there were minimal to no comments about the whole cillian murphy scandal, and things seemed to have died down just as quickly as they started.

now, a few months later after those pictures head leaked - cillian was still with his wife who he claimed he was "divorcing." you knew that it was most likely a front, but deep down; a part of you wished he had gone through with it, and even worse - you wished you had gone through with throwing caution to the wind and having your way with him that night. as wrong as it was, you felt your heart aching at the thought of him. sure, you were young and you didn't really know what love was, but you were pretty certain that this. was. it.

you wanted to know so badly why he was still with her, he was clearly not happy and had wandering eyes, so why was he still staying? it was a puzzle to you, and you felt yourself overthinking the simple question constantly, often letting it consume your daily thoughts. cillian wished he could tell you why, but he knew it would sound shallow. if he was being honest - he didn't love his wife. maybe at first when they got married when he was your age he did, but definitely not anymore.

their love had grown stale, and it's not like he really had a reason to stay faithful anymore besides his morals, but those morals didn't do him any good whenever he thought of you or better yet, saw pictures of you. him and his wife didn't share any kids together thankfully, and he often found himself zoning out every time they spent time with one another; his thoughts going to you instead. his wife had indeed seen the pictures of the two of you, but she was determined to let it go. apparently, the two of them were going to marriage counselling for it.

you scoffed at the idea when you read an article about it because you thought it was ridiculous. there was no point saving a man who didn't want to be saved, it would never work. but of course, you kept this all to yourself - you didn't want to give off the impression that you were okay with being the other woman because you weren't. shamelessly, you would constantly search his name up on social media or online to see any articles with updates about his marriage - and yeah, you were aware how bad that habit had gotten.

your fantasies were vivid, the memory of his hands trailing up and down your body on repeat in your mind all the time. the feeling of his lips pressed up against yours on that one, fateful night - you couldn't forget it. but that's the thing, as much as you wanted him and so desperately craved him - if he wouldn't leave her, you knew you couldn't force him to. you weren't going to wait forever, especially for a married man, and cillian knew that if he let you go, he'd come to regret it for the rest of his life.

his wife could tell. she knew that his mind was always going back to the thought of you - she could see it in the way he was acting towards her now, the way he touched her, the way he spoke to her - it almost seemed like he would try and pretend that she was you.

"honey, i don't know why you're so upset." cillian calmly explained to his wife, who was currently shouting at him in their shared home in dublin.

"you aren't even trying, cillian! it's like you don't care anymore - after over two decades of marriage you're just done?!" she screeched at him, and he rolled his eyes in frustration.

"oh, come on," he groaned, "don't be like that."

"oh, really? like i'm the one who had an affair with someone less than half my age." she sneered, and he knew that technically, she was right. she hadn't cheated on him, but he did cheat on her.

"were going to marriage counselling for it, i don't understand why you're so mad at me! i told you, we didn't even go past kissing." he huffed, and his wife was seconds away from losing it.

"how does that make it any better?" she yelled, "i know you still think about her, cillian. i went through your god damn phone! i saw the accounts you made to see what shes been posting. i know you wish that it was her in bed with you at night, sleeping by you. i saw the way you were looking at her in those pictures!"

cillian went silent at the bomb that his wife just dropped - and he couldn't even deny it anymore. of course he wished it was you in bed with him at night, and yes; if he had it his way, you'd be in her place instead. he imagined what a life with you could be like; the two of you living in a quiet, little suburban house with a few pets, and a beautiful garden - and you with a wedding ring on your finger, not his wife who he stopped loving years ago.

"you're thinking of her again, aren't you?" his wifes voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he looked at her as she had tears in her eyes.

"don't cry, please-"

"do you even love me anymore?" his wife sobbed quietly, interjecting. he sighed, staying silent, and she continued to speak to him through her tears. "i think it's best if you get it out in the open - maybe you hoped i wouldn't notice, but i've been married to you for over twenty years. i know you, cillian."

with a sigh, he looked down in shame. he couldn't bring himself to say anything, it seemed that his words got stuck in his throat at this very moment.

"your silence is enough of an answer," she said quietly, "but tell me cillian, you owe it to me after all you've put me through - do you love her?"

"i-i don't know i-" he stammered, knowing full well what the truth was; he did love you. he fell in love the moment he laid eyes on you. he fell in love with your youth, your radiance, your beauty, everything about you made this man weak. he'd barely known you for an hour and yet, he could confidently say that he loved you.

"you do know," his wife murmured, "you and i both know."

"well maybe i do," he whispered, "i can't change how i feel."

"twenty years, cillian! does that mean nothing to you?" she yelled, her rage apparent now.

"what do you want me to fucking say?" he spat back, knowing full well he was in the wrong here; but all his morals went out the window at this point, "i can't undo what i've done, and i'm sorry, okay? i'm sorry, but i also can't change the way i feel about her!"

"what's wrong with you? i don't even know who you are anymore!" she screamed at him, and now both of them were going back and forth, the argument escalating at an alarming rate.

"i don't care!" he shouted back, making his wife angrier.

"so, what now?" she screamed, "d'you want to get a divorce? is that what you want?"

"you know what? yes! in fact, i've wanted one since before i even met-"

"don't say her name." his wife spat, and that pushed cillian over the egde.

"i'm getting the divorce papers by the end of the week, and you're going to fucking sign them, i'll tell you that much." he seethed, and his wife started to throw whatever she could at him in a blind rage. as cillian ducked away from a dish being hurled at him, he decided to get one last dig in. "oh, by the way - i knew from the moment i met her, i'd much rather that she have my last name instead of you."

when you read the article titles and news headlines, you felt your heart drop.

"oppenheimer star cillian murphy and his wife have seemingly split - here's what we know."

you quickly wash down your glass of wine, and put your phone down in disbelief. you felt the guilt sink in slowly, and it made you want to cry; you couldn't help but feel like this was your fault. that you destroyed a marriage, and you had taken a man from another woman. you knew if that even if you weren't a hundred precent of the reason they divorced, you were at least a part of it. you were sure of that.

when you found out about his apparent divorce, you were shocked to say the least; you had finally come to terms with how he was probably never going to have the guts to leave her, and that was okay with you now. you didn't want to get dragged into a messy scandal, you were okay with letting him do what he wanted - he wasn't yours to keep, anyway.

up until now, he just didn't have the heart to leave her, as the media would think he'd only left her because he got the fame, and now he wanted some young, hollywood beauty. sure, it was partially true that he had left her for a younger woman that he so desperately wanted, but they didn't know how much he loved you. the media didn't know how badly he needed to have you.

and now that you were in the picture, those rumours would look like they were true - and it would be an absolute mess. the media would eat it up. so now, to force yourself to try and move on, you were talking to a bunch of other guys, but they just weren't him.

today, you were at another event where you were currently sitting at the bar, waiting for your favourite cocktail; a cosmopolitan after your second glass of wine. tonight, you needed it more than ever. this was a huge event, as you were one of the biggest stars attending, along with some other big names in hollywood. you heard about who else was going to be there, and cillian's name was included in that conversation. you felt stupid for thinking he wasn't going to be there, his fame had skyrocketed after oppenheimer - of course he'd be there.

tonight, you made waves as you walked the red carpet in your stunning, custom made gown by none other than donatella versace herself with the perfect mix of accessories and matching heels. you looked dolled up.

oh, and you also came with another man. that's right; you walked the carpet with your rumoured new boyfriend, evan peters.

when people saw the two of you step out onto the carpet together, they lost their minds. evan was quite a bit older than you, but still - he was a little over ten years younger than cillian. once the two of you were posing for pictures as the flashing lights consumed your vision, he wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your cheek softly. the photographers were eating this up; and they were shouting your name left and right, along with various questions.

"over here, look over here!"

"how long have the two of you been together?"

"did you have an affair with cillian?"

"what happened with cillian murphy?"

"did you hear about cillians divorce?"

the questions were progressively getting more invasive, and the two of you stepped into the venue of the event, wanting a break from the cameras and flashing lights. evan headed to the bar with you, but excused himself for a moment.

of course, the moment you were alone, you saw cillian, along with some other cast members from oppenheimer, walk in. you recognize pretty much all of them right away, and you do your best to look unengaged and pretend that you didn't even notice him.

cillian saw you instantly, but before he could even say anything or go over to you - he saw your new man return to the bar, wrapping his arms around you from behind and placing a soft kiss on your cheek. in that moment, he thought he could actually feel his heart being ripped into two, but he kept his composure and smiled at his cast-mates happily.

"another drink already?" evan teased, a smile on his face, "everything alright?"

"mm, yeah. everything is fine." you say cheerfully, even though deep down your heart was hurting at the fact that the man now sitting in front of you wasn't the man that you were in love with. "i just get a little overwhelmed at these events, you know that."

"right, i'm sorry." he says softly, taking your hand into his. "you look gorgeous tonight, sweetie."

the way he complimented you and the environment you were in felt all too familiar, and flashbacks of your night with cillian came flooding back into your mind. you mentally shook them right out of your head for the night. you didn't want to hurt your own feelings again, so for the remainder of the night, you avoided him and stuck by evans side.

cillian on the other hand thought he was going crazy. did you see the news articles about his divorce? were you in love with someone else? did you even think about him?

the following weeks had gone by in a blur as you were currently promoting the anticipated release of your upcoming album, and things were going so well for you - but you felt empty inside. you thought you were losing it, driving yourself insane over a married (well, no longer) man who you'd kissed for a few minutes in a hotel room.

two weeks ago, you broke it off with evan. you were certain it wasn't going to work, he was such a sweet guy and you knew he deserved someone else because your heart didn't belong to him. it belonged to cillian as much as you didn't want it to.

what was it with you and this man?

after breaking it off with evan, you debated texting cillian. perhaps it was just bad timing and now that he was divorced, things could work. maybe you just needed a little time apart just so that you could make your way back to each other. as you picked up your phone to try and muster up a text, you opened your social media to see that tmz had a new article up:

"cillian murphy and estranged ex-wife seen out together in dublin - what does this mean for the former couple?"

and below, there were pictures of him and his ex-wife walking side by side on the streets of ireland, and a few pictures of them in a little cafe together, seemingly just talking - but this was enough to drive you up the wall. you were done; you were out the door, and he was out of chances.

bye.

if he couldn't make up his mind, you would make up yours. opening your text messages, you scroll down to his contact. it had been months since the whole oscars incident, and neither of you had ever talked after that - he didn't even reach out to you after his divorce. so, you figured that this was just a waste of time; maybe it was best to move on from the fantasies in your head.

and with that, you blocked his number and tried not to let your anxiety consume you. to be honest, you were sort of hoping that maybe things would've worked out between the two of you; it felt like it was meant to be - but now you weren't too convinced.

currently, cillian was cooped up inside of a hotel room down in los angeles and he knew that you'd most likely seen the pictures, everyone had at this point. he tried to message you for the first time since the hotel room fiasco, but as he tried to explain it to you, his texts kept going green - you'd blocked his number. he tried calling, but the line just went dead each time.

the pictures were taken so out of context, but how would you know that? you wouldn't. in reality, cillian had agreed to meet up with his ex-wife as they were supposed to talk about divorce settlements. that was all. the two of them walked around, enjoying the sun as they tried to talk about it civilly. his estranged, and now ex-wife, took the whole situation surprisingly well.

sighing, he grabbed his car keys and his jacket, and got into his car while speeding recklessly down the freeway; his heart beating exhilaratingly. as he sped down the freeways of los angeles, he took a moment to appreciate the beauty of it all. the palm trees and the pink sunset - it reminded him of you. vibrant and beautiful. so young, so reckless, and so carefree.

as you were winding down for bed, you heard the doorbell of your beachfront property being rang repeatedly. in a state of confusion, you make your way downstairs and started wandering towards the front door. who the hell would be on your doorstep ringing your bell at such an hour? swinging the door open, you find cillian standing there like a pathetic, love-drunk fool.

"are you fucking kidding me?" you deadpan, looking at him with an expression that said the same thing as your words. after nine months he decided to show up at your doorstep? how did he know where you lived?

"i know," he began, "i know i look insane but i'm- jesus, i'm fucking crazy about you."

you stare at him wide-eyed, as this was not what you were expecting to see this evening. "cillian," you sigh, "i saw the pictures-"

"i can explain," he interjects, his voice laced with desperation, "please."

there he was; standing outside your house in the middle of the night, begging for you because he couldn't let you go. begging after he'd left his wife of twenty years for you.

"fine, just come inside. i don't want any more leaked pictures online." you grumble, opening the door fully so he could come in.

once he got inside, you closed the door behind the both of you, walking to your living room together. this was the first time in months that you'd actually talked - and even though you tried to deny it, your heart was racing at just the sight of him stood there, desperate for you. as you sat across from him on your couch, you looked at him silently, letting him say what he needed to.

"i'm so sorry for the mess that i've created." he said quietly.

"you should be." you respond cooly, trying not to let his words effect you in any way. you knew better.

"i know the last nine months have been insane," he says, looking at you with remorse, "but i mean, you can't deny what we have. i've never felt this way about anyone - i wouldn't have divorced my wife if i didn't think this was something worth fighting for."

you rub your temples, "cillian," you groan, "you can't be saying shit like that."

"why not?" he retaliated, making you scoff. "you told me to reach out to you once i was divorced and you'd maybe give me a chance. i'm doing what you asked me to, baby please-"

"don't baby me," you scoff, "you didn't tell me from the beginning that you were married. let's say i do forgive you, and we do this for real - how can i trust you?"

"i-i don't know, but i'll do anything i can to make this work." he pleaded, "i haven't stopped thinking about you since the day i met you."

"jesus, you're crazy." you groan, and to that he agreed.

"yeah, i know," he agreed, "m'fucking crazy about you."

you threw your hands up in defeat as if to say "well?" and he just looked at you in awe, his salt and pepper hair complimenting his gorgeous blue eyes. he continued to stared at you. he certainly wasn't trying to hide hide how attracted to you he was.

"the pictures of you and your ex-wife..." you said quietly, looking away from him, "i can't trust you, cillian."

"we were just talking about settlements," he said, "you know better than anyone how the media is; they blow shit out of proportion and take everything out of context. i swear that's all it was."

"you can't just show up like this..." you trail off, a frustrated sigh leaving your lips.

"is this because of your new guy or somethin'?" he huffs, and you roll your eyes at him. "no," you explain, "i'm not even seeing him anymore, we broke it off weeks ago."

"oh," he says, his eyes lighting up, "well, that's good to know."

it was silent for a moment, the two of you sitting there in each other's company, both lost in thought.

"why?" you ask suddenly, the question lingering in the tension filled air.

cillian looks at you confused, "what?"

"why does it have to be like this?" you ask, feeling the weight of your emotions bring you down. "why does it all have to be so complicated? why did you have to make it so complicated?"

"if this is about my marriage-"

"of course it's about your marriage!" you exclaim, your emotions getting the better of you, "i've spent the last nine months driving myself insane over you - god, i don't even know why. i feel this overwhelming guilt because of your divorce and-"

you pause, getting choked up as every last feeling from the last nine months decided to reign it's terror on you in that very moment with cillian sitting right across from you on your couch. every ounce of guilt that was compiled up inside of you, every bit of anger and resentment, and every negative emotion poured out from the depths of your slightly broken heart.

with teary eyes, you finally look at him again. "i feel like i wrecked your marriage, and i-i don't want to be that type of woman."

"you didn't wreck anything." cillian says, moving close to you as he placed a hand on you, rubbing your back soothingly. "i was in the wrong - i should have told you the truth. i should have done a lot of things differently. if i could go back in time, i would."

"but you can't!" you say as the tears start flowing, covering your face with your hands.

"i can't, no," he agrees, "but i'll change, i'll do anything for you."

"are you insane?" you shout at him with tears pooling in your eyes, "i don't know why you-"

"because i fucking love you, that's why." he said suddenly, looking you dead in the eyes as you both went silent.

"i'm sorry?" you ask in shock, meeting his gaze.

"because," he sighs, "i've fallen in love with you."

"you barely know me-"

"but i want to," he insists, moving closer to you. "just one chance, please."

looking up into his gorgeous blue eyes once more, you felt yourself go weak. he chased you down for months, left his wife for you, showed up at your doorstep - what more could he do to prove he was all in for you? with a trembling breath, he reaches his hand to softly cup your face, wiping your tears away with his thumb. his eyes search yours for any trace of a mutual feeling, for any indication that you might've wanted him as badly as he wanted you.

as he was leaning in, the gap between his lips and yours was getting smaller and smaller by the second. despite everything that was said in the last ten minutes, you didn't stop him. you didn't back away because deep down, you knew you needed him as much as he needed you. the pull between the two of you was unexplainable.

softly, he kissed you for the first time in nine months, and instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his neck. as you tangled your hands in his greying hair, he pulled you closer by your waist. while his tongue was exploring your mouth, you boldly get on top of his lap. straddling him, you run your hands in his hair once more and deepen the kiss.

"tell me you feel the same way, i know you do." he whispered against your lips, pulling away just enough so that he could get the words out.

"i feel the same, cillian." you confess in a breathless whisper, and he starts to pepper kisses down your neck, trailing them along to your collarbone.

"thought about you every fuckin' night," he murmured against your skin, "m'gonna cherish you, my love."

"i fantasized about you all the time." you admit out loud, grinding your hips down onto him.

you could already feel how hard he was underneath you, and you bit your lip at the feeling of his clothed cock pressing up against your cunt.

"mm, yeah?" he groaned, "tell me, sweet girl."

his hands took hold of your waist, helping you grind down on his lap. "i thought about y-you..." you whimpered, feeling yourself soak through your panties already.

"well, don't get shy on me now." he said lowly, his hands reaching up to squeeze your breasts, rolling your clothed nipples between his fingers softly. since you weren't wearing a bra, he had easy access.

with a soft moan, you try your best to answer him as his bulge rubbed against your cunt and his fingers tweaked your nipples, causing you to lose all inhibitions. "t-thought about your cock stretching me open," you confess, "and- f-fuck, i thought about you bending me over, making me scream all night."

"how about i help you live out those fantasies of yours, hm?" he growled, pulling you into a sloppy kiss.

as you melted into the kiss, he reached his hand down and slipped them past the waistband of your pyjama pants. he pushed your panties to the slide and let his fingers swipe through your soaked folds, making you moan into the kiss. the feeling of his fingers just simply brushing against you was heavenly, and you knew you needed more.

"you're fucking soaked, baby." he groaned, biting your lip softly between his teeth.

in an instant, he was pushing you down onto your couch. you shimmied your way out of your pyjama pants with his help of course, and he also assisted in pulling your panties down, too. as he tossed them to the side, you felt your heart palpitate at what was about to happen.

he gently inserted his middle finger into you at a slow pace, your slick walls clenching down on him from sheer neediness.

"that's a good fucking girl," he praised softly, "feels good, baby?"

"m-mmhm," you moaned, looking up at him as he hovered over you.

with one hand, he continued to play with your tits, tweaking the nipple between his fingers and with the other hand, he was fingering you gently. the act was so intimate yet sinful at the same time, it had your head spinning. the way he kept eye contact was driving you insane as you looked into his icy blue eyes.

slowly, he inserted a second digit into your drooling hole, your back arching at the intrusion and slight stretch. you let out a quiet moan, and he started to curl his fingers, fucking you with them faster and faster.

"let me hear those pretty moans, sweetheart," he cooed, "i wanna watch you as you cum on my fingers."

"f-fuck, right there-!" you whined, arching your back even further.

as he fucked you on his fingers rapidly, you could feel the coil in your stomach about to snap. as your slick walls clenched down on cillian's fingers, you moaned his name out over and over, feeling yourself drenching his hand.

"fuck, you're so pretty." he complimented, watching your reaction as you came undone on his fingers for him.

after your chest was heaving and you were left a panting mess, he pulled his fingers out gently. he helped you slip your pyjama top off, and you assisted him in undoing his belt buckle.

as he pushed his pants down, his cock sprung out. your mouth watered at the sight of it, needing nothing more than for him to be balls deep inside of your aching, needy cunt right now. he got on top of you hastily, stroking himself a few times before he lined himself up with you.

he teasingly brushed his pale, pink tip through your sticky folds as his pre-cum leaked out, and you whined with desperation.

"i fantasized about stretching you open on my cock." he admitted suddenly, biting down on his plush lips. "i thought about how you'd look with it buried deep inside, begging me to let you cum."

his vulgar words went straight to your core, and you looked up at him with a rosy hue covering the apples of your cheeks.

"show me," you whimpered, "make me beg to cum on your cock."

it didn't take much convincing before he suddenly pushed into your warm hole, stretching you out beyond belief. you could feel him fill you fully, and you almost choked on air at the sensation of his cock actually splitting you open like he promised. even though your cunt was dripping, he was still met with some resistance just from how tight you were around him.

"jesus, baby," he groaned, "what a tight fucking pussy."

"uh-huh, y-you're so big-" you squeak, and he started to move in and out at a fast pace, barely giving you time to adjust.

as his cock filled you fully, you swore you could feel him bulging in your stomach. his fat, veiny cock was reaching places you didn't even think were possible to reach, and places that his fingers certainly couldn't. he continued to push deeper inside of you with harsh thrusts, knocking the wind out of you each time his cock brushed up against that spongy spot inside of you.

you closed your eyes as your slick started to drip down onto the couch. you'd never been so soaked in your life. he tapped your cheek a few times, causing your eyes to flutter open. softly, he cupped your face with one hand while the other held an unwavering grip on your leg, lifting it up over his shoulder so he could fuck you even deeper.

"look at me, sweetheart," he commanded softly, making you clench on his cock. "oh," he noticed, "you like it when i talk to you like that, huh?"

you indeed liked when he talked like that - scratch that, you fucking loved it. he could feel you squeeze his cock with your dripping cunt each time he just spoke, his voice bringing you closer and closer to the edge once more.

"cill, i-i...fuck!" you screamed as his cock brushed up against that sensitive spot inside of you, causing you to suddenly lose all ability to speak properly.

"hm, sweetheart?" he cooed lovingly, but continued ramming into you ruthlessly.

your pussy was soaked and stretched, and as you kept your eyes on his - you watched him in awe. the way his pink lips were slightly parted, his salt and pepper hair disheveled, and his brow furrowed. it was driving you into a permanent state of euphoria.

"i love you," you gasped between breathless moans and incoherent begging, "so much."

your pupils were blown, staring up at him with such intensity he thought he was going to break right then and there.

"fuck, sweetie," he groaned, "i love you, too."

"i-i'm gonna cum, r-right there-" you begged him, "please, can i?"

"cum on my cock, cum right fucking now." he almost growled, pounding your tight, sopping cunt mercilessly. his pace never wavered, and he continued to fuck you into euphoria, studying you as you tipped over the edge from his thrusts.

with a groan, he came with you. he filled you with everything he had, fucking his cum so deep into your cunt you could almost feel him bruise your cervix. after his cock spurted the last bits of his cum into you, he was a panting, love-drunk mess propped up above you.

you were just as fucked out, smiling at him dopily while his cock remained buried inside of your warm walls. cillian brought his hand back up to your face, brushing a strand or two out of your face before placing a gentle kiss on your swollen lips.

"my love," he whispered, voice saccharine, "you are everything to me. everything."

"i adore you." you say softly, letting a heavy breath out.

"we'll make this work, i know we will. i just can't live a life without you in it." he tells you.

the crowd cheered, giving you a standing ovation as you finished your performance. you smiled bashfully and yelled "thank you new york!" into the microphone as the final show of your tour ended, and you waved goodbye to the thousands of fans in the arena.

rushing backstage after your show, you run into cillians arms and he hugs you tightly. he places a soft kiss on your head as you smile up at him sweetly, and looks at you with a proud expression on his face.

"you were amazing, love," he says softly, pulling you into his side as the two of you walk into your dressing room, "m'so glad i could join you for the last half of your tour. love watching you perform, s'amazing."

"oh, cill," you smile bashfully, "shush, you're too sweet."

"my lovely wife," he sighed, kissing you softly, "i'm just so proud of everything you've done."

you sigh blissfully as he holds your hands in his, and you head back to the hotel your staying at before your flight tomorrow morning. as your head hits the pillow, you feel exhausted and like you haven't slept in ages. cillian wraps his arms around you, spooning you as you turn off the light.

"goodnight, mrs. murphy." he whispers softly, holding you in his arms.

now you didn't have to fantasize about what it was like to be his anymore - he was all yours now, and you were all his. last name and all.

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#cillian murphy #cillian fic #cillian murphy imagine #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x oc #cillian fanfic #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x fem!reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fluff #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy angst

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stars-and-the-min · 3 days

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☆ the wrong way to hard launch (15) | OP81

summary : oscar's girlfriend is a walking pr problem for literally everyone (including herself) social media au

pairing : oscar piastri x zhou!fem!singer!oc

a/n tantalisingly close yet still a bit too far (first oscar podium of the season!!!) also btw this is gonna be my last post for a little bit, i'm in my exam season, i just wanted to let you guys know!

masterlist | last part | part 15 | next part (tba)

YOUTUBE

comments

omg proof of life

3:28 the subtle comedy of her being so close to the f1 world while being scared of going fast 😭

we need more interviews of her! she's an absolute delight to listen to

don't be shy, release the uncut version

choosing your bf over your literal blood-related cousin is lowkey wild ↳ i mean if you think about it like this: would you rather be driven at high speeds by your cousin who would mess with you or your boyfriend who worships the ground you walk on?

MESSAGES

from the phone of oscar piastri

INSTAGRAM

selinabui 🎵 Florence + The Machine · Cosmic Love | Florence, Italy

liked by oscarpiastri and 492,384 others

selinabui i took the stars from my eyes and then i made a map tagged: cameliazzz

oliviarodrigo obsessed with you 💜 ↳ selinabui @.oliviarodrigo liv, baby, we did not plan these tours well, were we aiming for missing each other by two days?

28kaslina24 the florence and the machine lyric caption >>>> WELCOME BACK QUEEN!!!

oscarpiastri Who'd you have dinner with looking that pretty? ↳ selinabui @.oscarpiastri just this f1 driver, i think he drives for mclaren ↳ landonorris @.selinabui yeah i had a blast at dinner 👍

tina_kim not 100% sold that this is actually her posting... why are they playing mind games with us ↳ pastry81 @tina_kim oscar commented so i remain cautiously optimistic

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 2h oscar piastri trending on twitter for two reasons: getting adopted by charles leclerc and that video of him very unsubtly checking out his girlfriend ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 2h i felt like i was intruding but also he was very very attractive in a way that is concerning

jackpot ☆ @slayridgo · 3h lina's reply to olivia's comment made me realise that taylor, olivia and empty bottles are just... bouncing around europe at the same time and that thought was so funny i just had to share it ↳ jackpot ☆ @slayridgo · 3h i have all three tour calendars open and they're narrowly missing each other by like a couple days- selivia are both in the same venue in paris in the SAME WEEK but EB is performing june 10-12 and olivia is june 14-15 but by june 15, EB are in amsterdam all while taylor is in the UK and after taylor's UK leg finishes, she's going to amsterdam which is the same time EB's UK round begins and while olivia's on break ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 49m the music girlies are having a blast

june @linafesting · 2h wait not me just realising that EB's break almost perfectly coincides with the F1 summer break... ↳ june @linafesting · 2h where's that reddit theory that EB planned the tour around the F1 calendar, how long does it take to plan a tour???

INSTAGRAM

oscarpiastri Circuit de Monaco

liked by charles_leclerc and 277,486 others

oscarpiastri Feeling the Monégasque love this weekend 💛 tagged: mclaren, charles_leclerc, sennabrazil and institutoayrtonsenna

ninisf1diary Oscar Piastri-Leclerc 😭😭😭

piastri_lina pls don't fall victim to the monaco curse pls pls pls

TWITTER

opal @pxastrixxx · 7h SHE isn't even attending the monaco gp like figures... ↳ 🕯️manifesting EB3 🕯️@.linabelles · 4h fyi she can't go bc she's performing two sold-out shows milan on race weekend, you would know this if you used your brain

Kas 🎸 @EB_KAS · 3h got put in time out bc i laughed at lina when she walked into a doorframe, someone avenge me ↳ Lando Norris @.LandoNorris · 2h Did she happen to be on the phone with my teammate? ↳ Kas 🎸 @EB_KAS · 14m embarrassingly, yes

president linami @.linaminami · 7m i'm like crying wdym lina was so distracted on the phone with oscar she WALKED INTO A DOORFRAME ↳ president linami @.linaminami · 6m GIRLIE THIS IS SLIGHTLY PATHETIC GET OFF THE GROUND 😭

kayla @luna_apocolypse · 1h somewhere in milan selina bui is screaming bc jenson button is commentating the monaco grand prix ↳ pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 1h context??? ↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 47m omg sorry i forget that a lot more f1 fans follow me now 😭 lina had a massive childhood crush on jenson button, there's a photo of her like two inches from the tv staring at him

jess @OPIXSTRI · 21m why do lina and i have the same taste in men :) surely there has to be a jenson button to oscar piastri pipeline out there

INSTAGRAM

selinabui

liked by lukaszhang and 332,185 others

selinabui but it's the monaco grand prix! i never miss the grand prix!

emptybottlesbar All tuned in right before Milan Night 1 🙈

oscarpiastri How's your head? ↳ selinabui @.oscarpiastri i think u know from experience :) ↳ cameliazzz @.selinabui there are CHILDREN on this app

moonbeamlina got catfished by the selfie bc why was the rest just f1

TWITTER

TMD Tour News @EB-TMDTour · 2h A fan close to the stage interrupts the welcome speech to tell the band about the results of Formula 1 qualifying. I realise how crazy this sounds as I'm typing it up, but I'm being dead serious; congrats to Oscar for a P2 position! #TMDWorldTour ↳ lukas 🔛🔝 @lukiepookie28 · 2h i'm dying they just paused the show for the results, we're only one song into the show, lina's barely gotten thru introductions and then you just hear: "OSCAR P2!" like DAMN way to get her attention

EB Updates @emptybottles_news · 2h Fan: Oscar qualified P2! Lina: Huh? I heard Oscar, what's happening? Oh my god, is qualifying over, how'd it end up? Fan: Piastri P2! Leclerc on pole! Zhou P20! Lina: Oscar P2? *pause* There isn't anything being investigated is there? ↳ piaa⁸¹ @ papayaeightyone · 2h "there isn't anything being investigated is there" LMAO SHE'S TRAUMATISED FROM IMOLA 😭😭😭 ↳ kay ♡ @ blackcatluna · 1h zhou p20 hurt a little actually, she was so unfazed ↳ jules 🌿 @juliiaapxp · 53m i mean she clearly watched the practice sessions, she knows that the saubers have been dreadful this weekend, she probably expected that result

lina bui x2 grammy winner @urdaisea · 12m why was she so darn hot tonight... is this that famed oscar piastri effect?

president linami @ linaminami · 1h i need her biblically ngl why did that smirk make me blush so hard tonight, i've watched basically every show on these grainy ass live streams but tonight's one got me kicking my legs in the middle of the night

EB Bar @theemptybottlesbar · 23m hey... hey... how y'all doing? ↳ oscalina real ?! @emptyginbottles · 18m i've been tense since fp3 and now i'm being seduced by selina bui so i'm probably not doing very well mentally ↳ kay ♡ @ blackcatluna · 1h with all the love in my heart, tell them to stop being so hot

piaa⁸¹ @.papayaeightyone · 21m oscar is gonna open up this app with hundreds of thousands of EB fans down so bad for his girlfriend and he's gonna get it

INSTAGRAM

lukaszhang Milan, Italy

liked by liam_zhang and 300,496 others

lukaszhang post-show shenanigans tagged: eb_jonno, aidan_ebass, selinabui and cameliazzz

aidan_ebass some of us, i don't wanna name names, are becoming alcohol-dependent ↳ selinabui @aidan_ebass i'm not playing with u, it's jonny ↳ eb_jonno @.selinabui i can't be offended by something that i wholeheartedly agree with

cameliazzz for the record, i don't recall any of this

emptybottlesbar you can be drunk but never camilina ijbol drunk ↳ selinabui @emptybottlesbar you were born in the year 1993, this is embarrassing for everyone ↳ linasgirl4 @.selinabui SHE'S BACK TERRORISING HER MANAGEMENT ACCOUNTS I'VE NEVER BEEN HAPPIER

TWITTER

pookie piastri @op81ln4 · 2h thoughts and prayers to lina bui bc she decided to have a concert in the middle of the monaco gp where her boyfriend starts from the front row ↳ emme @flowersforcami · 1h technically... the show starts at 5pm and the grand prix should end by like 4:45pm... she could very much so watch it ↳ camilina gfs fr @ drummergf · 1h unfortunately i think they run a soundcheck plus hair and makeup in the lead-up to the show, that's also the reason why she couldn't watch quali! it all takes a bit and cami has said that they eat lunch then start preparing for the show then have a quick dinner then often grab supper after the show ends

Formula 1 @.F1 · 5m 🔴 RED FLAG 🔴 Sainz runs off in Casino Square and there are three cars behind which have made contact #F1 #MonacoGP ↳ emme @flowersforcami · 2m lmao yeah no lina aint watching shit...

MESSAGES

from the phone of selina bui

TWITTER

TMD Tour News @EB-TMDTour · 1h Lina addresses Oscar Piastri's podium finish at the Monaco Grand Prix! "Guys, I know, you don't have to yell it up to me today, he texted me backstage during intermission." #TMDWorldTour ↳ lukas 🔛🔝 @lukiepookie28 · 1h LMAO I WAS LITERALLY WONDERING WHY INTERMISSION FELT SO LONG TONIGHT

opal @pxastrixxx · 1h oscar got his first podium of the season and does she even care? ↳ opal @pxastrixxx · 1h the whole race when it was cutting to the ferrari wags and absolutely nothing from the papaya garage... the silence was loud ngl ↳ piaa⁸¹ @papayaeightyone · 28m can you stop bringing her up if you clearly don't like her? she's in the middle of a world tour, she physically couldn't attend bc she's performing to 17000 people in milan, and fyi, she did care, she congratulated him in private, not everything about their relationship is a spectacle, get a fucking life :)

liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 17m her comedic timing 😭 she's baiting us all, i swear... she started the encore with the most melodramatic sigh and the sweetest voice with the acoustic guitar, and then she pulled the rug out from under us all ↳ liv is SEEING EB LIVE!! @olivielina · 15m she said: oscar, if you're still watching... *a couple seconds of guitar strumming with an angelic smile, you think she's about to give the most lovely speech of how proud she is of him* stop 🥰 NOW IF I WERE OSCAR PIASTRI--

↳ kayla @luna_apocolypse · 2m he's so goofy sometimes it's so indearing like no wonder she's so down bad

emptybottles_official Italy

liked by emptybottlesbar and 310,182 others

emptybottles_official Florence and Milan, you guys were absolute DREAMS! This past week in Italy has been nothing short of magical, and we hope we lived up to the love you've shown us since our debut. These shows have been a long time coming for you guys! 🔜 Zürich, Switzerland 🇨🇭

emptybottlesbar ABSOLUTELY PHENOMENAL NIGHTS!!!

marie_h.sb the milan shows were a new kinda crazy

tina_kim italy has always loved them so much, my heart🥺

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

taglist @ririyulife @ashy-kit @fionaschicken @namgification @cherry-piee @urfavsgf @eiaaasamantha @sp1rl @destinyg237 @iloveyou3000morgan

#f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x oc #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smau #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smau #f1 fic #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 social media au

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tofuxuan · 2 days

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a path of no return ᶻ °ᡣ𐭩 . °

✘ boohill x reader ༯ 𓍼 angsty , death of a loved one , sorta abandonment , grieving (not really) , lowkey confusing perspectives idk , [name] isn't used , you probably die , NOT PROOFREAD ₊✩‧₊ based on the lyrics of 'half return' by adrianne lenker. (ps please invite me to your boothill themed birthday party, thanks) this is written b4 boothill's full release so idk much abt his lore or why he's a cyborg. this is pretty short like 600+ words

standing in the yard, "tag, yer' it!" sweet laughter erupted from both your husband and daughter. he has his daughter tackled in a hug on the green grass of your backyard, of course they were playing tag on the hottest morning. you playfully groaned, "hey! don't hurt yourselves!" you yelled from across the plain of grass.

in unison, their heads turned to the direction of your voice. in an instant, your husband stands up right and lends a hand to your guys' daughter. hand in hand, they start walking towards you.

"ugh, boothill... she's gonna have rashes all over her now..." you silently apprehended him for his recklessness and in response, he gives you a bashful smile. you could never be angry at him for long so you forgave him in a heartbeat when you saw his smile, plus he was helping to teach his daughter to walk. but that doesn't mean that the rashes aren't going to form so you pick up your daughter and tell boothill that you're going to give her a bath.

you have her sitting in the bathtub, her back facing towards you. "you have such pretty hair, [///]. please never dye it." you commented solemnly, it was never supposed to be serious but you'll miss it. "but mama! can i dye it when i'm older?" you could hear the frown in her voice but it was a sincere appeal. a downturned smile appeared on your face when you heard what she had to say. "of course."

dressed like a kid. "seriously?" boothill protested when you brought up the idea of matching outfits for a family photo. normally it wouldn't be a big problem but you suggested actually matching outfits as in him having to wear something his daughter picked out (a pink dress!).

he stopped saying no when [///] melted his heart with her puppy eyes. he caved in and awkwardly fit himself in the dress that was intended for women (it barely fit). nonetheless, all of you guys gave your biggest smiles. [///]'s was the biggest out of all of them.

strung up by crappy magnets on your cheap fridge.

the house is white (i had no ideas for this one)

when [///] learned how to walk, you and boothill both thought there was an intruder but when you both saw her around the corner, you looked at each other with idiotic grins. "did you know she could walk?" "nuh uh"

and the lawn is dead

when your planet was destroyed, so was yourself. you had lost your pride and joy, your daughter. you knew she wasn't a biological daughter but she was your daughter.

on top of that, boothill disappeared and you had no one to go to. everything you worked on was now missing or gone completely, you felt the grief wash away the quick feelings of contentedness you previously had.

you would never see your daughter dye her hair.

the lawn is dead

you picked up a job as an ipc worker. they were the only ones who helped you in your time of need but under the one condition to become one of the ten stonehearts (idk how that works but don't bash me).

you first learned of boothill's survival after you heard a commotion about a rowdy ipc hating galaxy ranger. after digging information from your co-worker, aventurine, you found out his name, the one you felt so familiar to saying.

when the wanted posters were hung up by magnets on every surface, you knew it was the man you once loved.

is he out for your blood?

the lawn is dead

there he was. face of your former husband with the body of a cyborg.

"'ya dirty ipc shirtbags. doin' nothing but sit 'ere lazily." it was the stupid southern accent you remember. when he looked at you, his smirk dropped.

bang

#─ ⊹₊⋆ ☹︎ odettes cry for help #hsr #hsr boothill #boothill #boothill hsr #boothill x reader #hsr angst #hsr x reader #hsr x reader angst #boothill angst

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lisbeth-kk · 2 days

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May Prompts (29) Hero

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 29)

Summary: Rosie lets us get one more glimpse of the wedding, before the tale of new beginnings for all of them are revealed.

Twenty-Nine Years Old

Papa had of course composed a waltz for our wedding, and after I’d danced with my husband, still strange to call him that, it was Dad’s turn. Papa still played but had switched to the waltz from Dad’s and his wedding now, and the waltz I’d danced to with Dad all those years ago. It was such a precious moment, and when it was played again, by the string quartet this time, I found myself in Papa’s arms.

“Thank you for making us a new waltz,” I said and looked up at him.

“You’re welcome, Bee. It was my pleasure.”

His smile was the one I called “the Bee and Dad smile”. It was warm, genuine and radiated love and affection.

***

Timothy had been the first speaker and had used most of it to praise The Fab Four for raising me in the most unusual fashion. He avoided any “government secrets”, which I deduced was due to uncle Myc’s meddling.

“He’s a fucking hero, your Timothy,” uncle Greg told me later that evening, not entirely sober.

“Language, Gregory,” uncle Myc scolded him, which earned him a swat on his…yeah, well, I guess you can deduce the rest.

Dad’s speech was as incoherent and rambling as expected, bringing back anecdotes of Ted the bear’s last real meal, my theatrical announcement regarding Dad and Papa’s love for each other in the train carriage, how proud he was of me, and in the same sentence also thanking uncle Myc for being the best uncle.

“Sorry, Greg. That was before you and…” Dad said with an embarrassed grimace.

The uncle in question just waved it off, while looking adoringly at uncle Myc.

And of course there was praising of Papa for being the best thing that had ever happened to either of us. By the time he finished, there were tissues, sniffles and stifled sobs all around.

***

I had looked forward to Papa’s speech, having heard his encomium of Dad at their wedding, but it became instantly clear that his speech to me would surpass my wildest expectations. He started it with addressing me with words no one but me and Dad had ever heard, and I sought out Timothy’s hand and held on for dear life, lest I’d be transformed into a puddle of tears.

“My precious girl, my heart. I couldn’t believe my luck the day John brought you home to Baker Street. To be given the privilege of raising you, is the greatest honour I could ever receive. From that very first day you trusted me to take care of you as well as your father did. You gave your love freely, without any hesitation, and even if I wasn’t your legal parent from the beginning, it didn’t matter to you. But it mattered to me. The first time you called me Papa…”

He closed his eyes for a moment to gather himself, clearly overwhelmed by the memories. Dad took his hand and squeezed it soothingly. Before he continued the speech, he looked down at Dad and a silent conversation took place. Releasing his hand from Dad’s, Papa straightened and started to speak once more.

The anecdotes Papa told, differed from Dad’s. My first trip, to Barts of all places, were described in detail. How Molly had scolded him for bringing a seven-month-old toddler to the morgue, his pride when he witnessed my first graduation in the dojo, getting my yellow belt, how stunned he was that I got along so well with his brother, (I still can’t believe he mentioned him), and his certainty that Timothy was my soul mate just like Dad was his.

All this sentiment elicited another round of sniffles, which a decade ago, would’ve made my Papa roll his eyes, but he’d softened over the years, I realised. Not that he would ever admit to it, mind you.

***

One year later, things had changed considerably. Dad and Papa had retired and moved to Sussex, and Timothy and I got the best Christmas present, the deed to 221 Baker Street with the clause that Dee could inhabit 221A for as long as she liked.

I’d missed my childhood home and I never thrived in that other part of the city. Timothy couldn’t believe our luck and made plans for creating his own writing den in 221C. Papa’s lab had been stripped bare, so it really was a blank canvas to do with as we pleased.

And then it was the biggest thing of all. A new life was growing inside me. The ultrasound showed a healthy foetus, but the sex was impossible to discern because of the position. We didn’t want to know anyway. The important thing was that everything was alright. Being a doctor’s daughter, I knew quite a lot about how bad things could get.

When we got home, after I’d texted my parents that everything was going well inside my womb, I rummaged around for my mother’s book with all the children’s names in it. She had made no notes in it, neither had Papa in his quest for alternative names for uncle Greg. I wouldn’t have minded seeing his scribbles, but now that I was going to be a mother myself, I felt conflicted thinking about the mother I never knew. Come to think of it, I’d never even seen her handwriting.

***

Timothy had asked me about my childhood a few days after I discovered that I was pregnant.

“If you can sum it up in one word, image, or a sentence, what will it be?”

I didn’t have to think twice before answering.

“My parents and their love for me and for each other.”

Timothy just nodded, not the least bit surprised by this.

“I would like to name the baby after them,” I said, which Timothy fully agreed to.

His sister had named two of her four children after their parents, and Timothy was rather fond of my family, despite his bickering with them.

“I consider it a love language,” he told me.

“Don’t you dare tell them! The consequences might be…something sinister,” I said.

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @raina-at

More tags in the replies

#may prompts 2024 #may 29: hero #sherlock fandom #rosie watson #sherlock #john watson #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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earthtoharlow · 8 hours

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Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand

Series Masterlist

3. Still Down

If I put all my faith to you, will you be faithful? Hold me down baby I know that ain't easy to do

“Hi! I’m here a little early…wearing sparkly pants.” Maryse Monet’s message reads like pre-emptive admin before a blind date but, in reality, it’s not necessary: the 25-year-old singer/actress is instantly recognizable and not just to me. As I arrive a young woman approaches her and asks for a selfie. “Your music changed my life.”

Maryse immediately pulled the young woman in a tight embrace and thanked her, making sure the fan knew how much she appreciated it.

We had originally had a reservation booked at a fancy restaurant in New York City. Maryse’ suggested we meet at this charming deli shop out of the state of NY, much to our bewilderment. It was only upon our arrival that we discovered the reason behind her unconventional choice – she had recently made Kentucky her new home.

“New York will always hold a special place in my heart,” she confided. “But now, my heart is in Kentucky. It’s a welcome change of pace.” While not explicitly mentioned, it was evident that her relationship with her rapper Jack Harlow played a significant role in her decision to make the move.

In the wake of her recent Grammy wins, we begin to discuss the impact of her success on her upcoming sophomore album and whether the accolades added pressure to her creative process.

“Winning two Grammys for my debut album was truly surreal and humbling,” Maryse began, her eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and determination. “While there’s certainly an added level of expectation with each release, I see it more as an opportunity than pressure.”

Maryse went on to explain how the recognition reaffirmed her artistic vision and gave her the courage to push the boundaries even further with her new album. Rather than feeling constrained by expectations, Monet embraced the challenge as a chance to elevate her craft and connect with her audience on a deeper level.

“As an artist, I’m always evolving and exploring new avenues of expression,” she continued, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “The Grammys serve as a reminder of the impact music can have, and I’m excited to channel that energy into my sophomore album.”

When I asked her how the sophomore album is going, Maryse's eyes began to sparkle as she leaned forward like she was about to tell me a secret. “I’ve been pouring my heart and soul into the writing, exploring new themes and melodies that reflect where I am in life right now.”

“With my debut, I was in this whirlwind romance, and every lyric seemed to overflow with joy and passion,” she recounted with a wistful smile.

While on tour last year it was revealed that she and Jack Harlow had broken up after being together for almost a year.

“This time around I found myself navigating the painful aftermath of a breakup,” she confided, her voice tinged with vulnerability. “What was meant to be a continuation of love songs transformed into a raw exploration of heartbreak.”

She went on to describe how the experience of love and heartbreak had shaped her songwriting. “This album feels like a deeply personal journey,” she explained, her expression thoughtful yet resolute. “This next album will be the breakup album everyone thought they were getting with the first one.”

And what does Jack Harlow think of having break up songs about him?

With a playful grin, Maryse quipped, “Oh, you mean my muse? He’s been incredibly supportive throughout this whole journey.” Chuckling, she added, “He’ll be fine with the heartbreak songs. He knows it’s all part of the process.”

When Maryse isn’t working on music, she’s reading scripts. Fresh off her role as Belle in the live-action adaptation of Beauty and the Beast, she’s now set to appear in the remake of The Color Purple. “Acting is a new challenge for me, but it’s incredibly rewarding,” she said.

Leaving the deli, I felt a profound sense of respect for Maryse Monet. She’s a testament to resilience and creativity, navigating the complexities of love, heartbreak, and success with grace. Her journey from New York to Kentucky, from singer to actor, and from heartbreak to healing is one that inspires and captivates. As she continues to evolve, one thing is certain: the world hasn’t seen the best of Maryse yet.

****

LIFEOFMONET

liked by milaj, dojacat, urbanwyatt, easymoneysniper,jackharlow, torikelly, and 587,567 others

lifeofmonet: Never thought I would be on the cover of vogue 🥺 this means EVERYTHING TO ME I am so grateful and excited for this next chapter…..LOVE YOU ALL!!!!!!!

view all 6,789 comments

mariahthescienctist: So beautiful!

user: ICONIC

user: we finally getting a break up album!!!!

user: how can someone be so beautiful

saweetie: Yessss💜

user: the confirmation that she’s back with Jack and moved in with him 🥹🥹🥹🥹

urbanwyatt: welcome to Kentucky 😅

user: Jack has a big storm coming

jackharlow: so proud of you 😍

As Maryse walked into the house, she felt a wave of exhaustion run through her. Today at the studio was emotionally taxing and she was happy to finally be home. She kicked her shoes off and placed them on the shoe rack, and let out a sigh of relief.

In the living room, Jack was lounging on the couch flipping through a magazine. As Maryse walked closer she noticed it was the latest issue of Vogue, featuring her on the cover. Jack looked up, a broad smile spreading across his face as their eyes met.

“Hey there, superstar!” He greeted, setting the magazine aside and standing up to hug her. “How was the studio?”

“Tiring, but good,” Maryse replied, melting into his embrace. “What about you? How was your day?”

“Pretty relaxed,” he said, holding her at arm’s length and looking her over. “I spent some time reading this.” Jack gestured to the magazine. “I’m so proud of you, you know that?”

She blushed, feeling a mix of pride and shyness. “You read the whole thing?”

“Every word,” he confirmed, his eyes twinkling with admiration. “It’s a great article. You come across so genuine and talented. They captured you perfectly.”

Maryse laughed softly, shaking her head. “I don’t know about that, but it was a fun interview. And it was kind of nice, meeting at Morris Deli and then walking around the Highlands. Felt more personal.”

He nodded, his expression turning serious. “I loved what you said about New York and Kentucky. ‘New York always has a special place in my heart, but now my heart is in Kentucky.’ That hit home.”

“Well, it’s true,” she replied softly, reaching out to take his hand. “This place, this life we’re starting to build here… it’s special.”

Jack pulled her close again, kissing her forehead. He grinned playfully, “Oh, you really love me, huh?” he teased.

Maryse laughed, feeling her cheeks warm. “Well, you’re pretty special,” she replied, matching his playful tone. “I guess you could say you’re worth the move.”

He chuckled, pulling her even closer. “Worth leaving the big city for small-town life? That’s saying something.”

She nodded, looking up at him with affection. “Yeah, it is. But honestly, being with you feels like home no matter where we are.”

Jack’s expression softened, and he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I feel the same way,” he said quietly. “I was just messing with you. I know how much you’ve given up to be here, and it means the world to me.”

She smiled, her heart full. “It’s not giving up anything when it means being with you. Besides, Kentucky has its charm. I’ve discovered a lot of things I love here.”

He raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh, really? Like what?”

Maryse pretended to think for a moment, tapping her chin. “Well, despite all the white people… everyone is friendly, the scenery is beautiful, and there’s this amazing guy I get to come home to every day.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re too much.”

She leaned in, planting a quick kiss on his lips. “And you love it.”

Jack sighed contentedly, pulling her into his lap. “Yeah, I do. More than anything.”

As they continued cuddling on the couch, Maryse couldn’t help but think about how hectic the coming year was going to be. Her schedule was packed with studio sessions, promotional events for the Color Purple.

The excitement of her career’s momentum was tempered by the nagging worry that their busy lives might pull them apart again. She didn’t want a repeat of last year, when their packed schedules had created a wedge between them.

She took a deep breath and snuggled closer to Jack feeling the warmth of his body against hers. “Hey,” she said softly, her voice tinged with hesitation. “Can we talk about something?”

Jack looked down at her, concern etched on his face. “Of course, what’s on your mind?”

She bit her lip, gathering her thoughts, and he gently pulled her lips away with his thumb, stopping her. “Don’t do that,” he murmured. “Talk to me, M.”

Maryse sighed, trying to organize her thoughts. “This year is going to be really busy for me. Probably even busier than last year. And while I’m excited about everything, I’m also worried. You know how things got between us when we were both so busy.”

He nodded “Yeah, I remember. It was tough.”

“I don’t want that to happen again,” she continued, Maryse’s voice barely above a whisper. “I know this year is supposed to be your reset year, and I don’t want to mess that up for you. I just… I don’t want us to drift apart.”

Jack pulled her closer, his grip tightening protectively. “Hey, we’re not going to let that happen again. We’ve learned a lot from last year. We’ll make time for each other, no matter what.”

She sighed, feeling a bit more reassured but still worried. “I know, but it’s hard. We both have so much going on. I just don’t want us to become strangers living in the same house.”

He lifted her chin, making her look into his eyes. “Listen to me. You’re the most important thing in my life. We’ll figure it out. If it means rearranging my schedule to be with you, I’ll do it. This reset year isn’t just about my career; it’s about us too. And I’m not going to lose you again.”

Maryse smiled, feeling a tear escape and roll down her cheek. “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

Jack wiped the tear away with his thumb and kissed her gently. “We’re a team, remember? We’ll face this together.”

Maryse nodded and was quiet before a thought popped in her mind. “Maybe we should go on vacation before it gets too busy.”

He grinned, his eyes lighting up at the idea. “That sounds perfect. I haven’t been on a real vacation in years. Any place in mind?”

She thought for a moment, then said, “Somewhere quiet and relaxing. Maybe a beach? We could use some sun and sand.”

“That sounds amazing,” Jack agreed. “A chance to unwind and just be with each other.”

She nodded, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought. “Yeah, just us, away from everything. We need that.”

Jack kissed her forehead, a look of determination in his eyes. “Let’s make it happen. I’ll handle all the planning. You just pack your bags.”

“Just so you know,” Jack said, a playful smirk on his face, “I’m probably gonna burn in the sun while you get a nice tan.”

Maryse laughed, playfully nudging him. “I’ll make sure to bring plenty of sunscreen for you, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, shaking his head with a chuckle. “I’m serious though. I turn into a lobster if I’m out in the sun too long.”

She grinned, loving the banter. “Guess I’ll just have to keep you in the shade then. Or maybe we can alternate between sunbathing and hiding under an umbrella.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said, pulling her closer. “As long as I get to spend time with you, I don’t care where we are or what we do.”

She smiled, feeling a wave of warmth and love. “Same here. I just want us to have some time to relax and enjoy each other’s company.”

He kissed her gently, his eyes filled with affection. “It’s a date then. We’ll escape to the beach and have the best time ever.”

She nodded, her heart full. “I can’t wait. It’ll be perfect.”

“I’m thinking we hit up a nude beach,” Jack teased, not being able to hide the mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Maryse couldn’t help but gasp and playfully hit his arm. “You’re unbelievable!”

Jack laughed, enjoying her reaction he leaned in, stealing a quick kiss. “What? It could be fun! Totally freeing, you know?” He pecked her lips again, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

She shook her head, giggling. “I don’t think so. The only person who gets to see me like that is you.”

“You damn right!,” he said, still chuckling before he kissed her again, softer this time. “But you have to admit, it would’ve made for an interesting vacation story.” Another kiss.

“Sure,” Maryse replied, rolling her eyes with a smile as he kissed her again. “Maybe in an alternate universe.”

He laughed and continued to steal kisses between words. “Alright, no nude beaches,” he said, punctuating each word with a quick peck. “But seriously, anywhere with you is perfect.”

She smiled, her heart swelling with love. “Just us, no phones, no work.”

“Deal,” he said, kissing her forehead, finally giving her lips a break. “It’s going to be amazing.”

Jack then smiled, pulling her closer. “Alright, no more yapping. Let’s go cuddle.”

He stood up and offered his hand, helping her off the couch. She took it with a tired smile, leaning into him as they walked to the bedroom, hand in hand.

Once they were under the covers, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. The warmth of his body against hers was comforting, a feeling she had missed during their time apart. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“Goodnight, M.” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. His voice was soft, filled with affection and relief that they were together again.

Maryse snuggled deeper into his embrace, feeling safe and content. “Goodnight, Jack. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied softly.

As they lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of them in their cozy little bubble. The tension and worries of the day melted away, replaced by a profound sense of peace.

Maryse laid still for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. Then, unable to resist, she gently poked him in the side.

“Are you asleep?” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.

Jack groaned softly, opening one eye. “Well, I was,” he teased, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing, I’m just so glad we’re together again,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as sleep began to overtake her.

“Me too,” Jack whispered back, watching her as her breathing evened out and she drifted off to sleep. He stayed awake a little longer, his mind drifting over the events of the past year and the journey that had brought them back to each other, but none of that mattered anymore as Maryse was finally back snuggled underneath him.

He kissed the top of her head, a smile playing on his lips as he closed his eyes. The familiar rhythm of her breathing, the way she fit perfectly against him—it was all he needed to feel at peace. For the first time in months, he felt truly at home.

As sleep began to claim him, he held onto the thought of how lucky he was to have her back in his arms. No matter how busy their lives might get, this was what mattered most: the love they shared and the promise to face everything together.

And with that comforting thought, he finally drifted off to sleep, happier than he’d been in a long time.

*****

AN: little filler chapter! next chapter is when the real fun begins and they go on vacation :) let me know your thoughtsssss

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#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow concepts #flashing lights

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drenched-in-sunlight · 20 hours

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okay forgive me cuz i only just started playing elden ring and getting into the lore n such but like,,, if the dlc's main story from the player perspective has anything to do with becoming miquella's consort and elden lord like some ppl are saying, do u think maybe then messmer's thing is defending marika and her order from those would would usurp them? maybe you've talked about that before and i missed it BUT. idk. i love the mama's boy thing a lot it's very cute and honestly this early on i think it really has some merit too :3

yes i did discuss the idea that Messmer is acting as Marika's secret executioner in the shadow when the first trailer dropped, & with the newly released story trailer, i think his role is even more sinister than that: the one plunging a whole world in flames for his mother's ascension....

i never really thought about the significance behind the lore that the Haligtree had to be watered by Miquella's own blood to grow, but now if you factor in Messmer's "tyranny" and that shot of him raising his spear and the camera panning up to the giant tree either bleeding gold or absorbing it... is he destroying civilizations to nurture the Erdtree? is he the main force at the start helping Marika become a God??? hmmmm there's a lot to unpack here ...

im excited to find out what does it all mean with everyone when the DLC drops! i hope you enjoy your time with the game !! :D

#varilien #er brainrot #reply

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 1 day

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Hard Habit to Break

Chapter 2

Pairing: EddieMunsonxOriginalCharacter

Summary: When a chance at the career he always wanted came knocking at the same time that she received the worst news of her life, they were forced apart. Long distance, time on the road, and stories in the tabloids destroyed anything they had left, leading him down a dark road, playing the role of the bad boy rockstar his manager wanted from him. Now tragedy will bring him back to the town he swore to never step foot in again and face to face with her for the first time in years. Will he be able to stick to the plan or will she be the one habit he can't break?

Word Count: 5.6K

Trigger Warnings: Cancer battle, death of a parent, grief, addiction

18+ Only

Now

“Do they need anything else from her right now?”

“I don’t think so. What more could anybody possibly do right now, anyway?”

“Then we should get her home. She needs to get out of this place and get some rest. Tori? Tori?”

“Huh? What?” she mumbled, shaking herself from her stupor, shocked to find her best friend’s eyes so close to hers. The gray blue of a stormy sea, mirroring the feelings rushing through her right now. A tumultuous tempest that she couldn’t make sense of. Her hands were frantically reaching for purchase but finding none as she was tossed around on angry waves that were threatening to swallow her into the depths and drown her.

Robin was kneeling in front of her now, her jean covered knees pressed against the tile. She took both of Tori’s hands in hers, keeping her tethered to this space, this chair, this horrible stark white space that she wanted to escape. Everything was so bright, too bright, the glare of it hurting her already burning eyes, aching from exhaustion. She wanted to tunnel down into the floor beneath her feet and disappear, curled up in the Earth, becoming one with the dirt, just like her mother would soon. No more pain. No more grief. No more heartache. Only darkness and peace.

How was she supposed to do this? How was she supposed to face this world without the person who guided her through it? How was she supposed to go on motherless? No one to tell her she was doing it right or call her out when she was messing up. Isolated, alone, roaming aimlessly with no one to point her on the right path?

“Babe, are you okay?” Robin asked carefully, each word laced with deep concern. “Sorry. That’s a stupid question. Of course you’re not okay. Do you want to go home? You know, you don’t have to do anything else today. Nothing has to be decided right now. It might be better to wait until Lacy’s here so you can do it together.”

“Yeah. You should go home, get some rest, and deal with everything tomorrow. It’s been a hell of a day. Honey, it’s been a hell of a few years for you, especially these past six months. Maybe you need to take a break,” Nancy piped up from the chair next to her, her hand coming to rub what she clearly thought were soothing circles on Tori’s back.

Tori knew she meant well but her touch was anything but soothing. It just made her want to jump out of her skin, conjuring memories, flashes of her mom’s hands doing the same thing whenever she was sad.

The time she sat next to her on the bathroom floor all night in fifth grade when she had the stomach flu. Sophomore year when Jenny Simmons has been so mean to her, lying and telling everyone she’d made out with Eric Hoffman behind the bleachers. Junior year when she stormed in the door, sobbing, because she’d just had her first fight with her boyfriend. Five years ago when she’d had to watch that same boyfriend get on a plane and leave her behind. She had come home, barely able to talk, collapsing into a ball on the floor. A year later when she’d made the hardest decision of her life and her mom had held her for hours, rubbing her back as she released all of the pain that was shredding her from the inside, assuring her that it would all be okay.

Now nothing would ever be okay again. How could it? How much could she lose and still keep moving forward? How many pieces of her heart could be lost before it stopped beating altogether?

“I…uh…yeah…” she mumbled, her brain complete mush, as if someone had run it through a food processor, her thoughts minced into pieces she couldn’t fit back together. She was unable to think, unable to process, unable to do much of anything at the moment. “That’s a good idea, probably.”

“I know it is,” Nancy delicately told her, taking charge of the situation as usual. Her hand came to rest under Tori’s elbow, gently guiding her to her feet. “Let us drive you home and get you to bed, okay?”

“Lacy…I have to call…she needs to know…I have to tell her that…”

“I already took care of it,” Robin assured her, taking her other arm, her two friends slowly guiding her through the building and toward the door. She simply allowed it, too tired to argue, too broken to do it on her own. “I called her at school. She’s going to head home first thing in the morning, okay?”

Tori nodded, anything else felt like too much work. She should have been prepared for this. She’d been preparing for this eventuality for the last five years. It had been a certainty for the past six months but she still wasn’t ready. She would never have been ready to say goodbye, would never be ready to live in this world alone, a girl without a mom. That’s what she was now and it didn’t matter that she was twenty-eight, a grown adult who should be able to survive on her own. It wouldn’t have mattered if she was fifty-eight. She didn’t know how to do any of this without her mom. How do you say goodbye to someone who’s been with you your whole life?

Even now, she wanted to call her, to ask her what to do next, to fall apart in her arms and let her fix it the way she always fixed everything. But now it was up to her and Lacy was coming home tomorrow. She was going to be looking to her big sister to take care of everything, to take care of her. Tori could barely care for herself right now. How was she going to take care of anyone else?

It didn’t matter. She had to. She had to find the strength within her somehow. Her sister was going to need her to be the strong one, to handle everything, to step up and be what their mom no longer could.

Tori was only vaguely aware as they tucked her into the backseat of Nancy’s car, mumbling, “What about my car?”

“I called Dustin and he and Steve are going to drive over to the hospital to get it,” Robin told her as she slid into the passenger seat. “They’ll drive it back to your house for you, okay? You don’t have to worry about anything besides taking care of yourself right now. We’ve got you.”

Tori nodded, resting her forehead against the cool glass of the window. She was so tired, running on empty, nothing but fumes left in the tank. The last five years had been hard, the last six months had been awful, but the past month had been hell. Long hours sitting at the hospital, spending any time when she wasn’t at work sitting vigil by her mother’s bedside from the moment they told her it was the end. They couldn’t say how long or when but it was inevitable. There would be no more going home.

Her eyes slid closed, her body desperate to shut down, but horrific images of the last few hours flashed through her mind. The haunting sound of that endless tone that had signaled her life had been irrevocably changed. She snapped her eyes back open. No. She couldn’t relive it. It had been awful enough the first time.

“Did you call him?” asked Nancy, her hands held tightly at ten and two, forever the responsible driver no matter the circumstances.

Maybe she could just let Nancy handle everything. She was good at that, stepping up and taking charge. Maybe she could go to the funeral home tomorrow and make all the decisions, take care of Lacy, deal with her dad while Tori allowed herself to sink into blissful nothingness.

“I tried,” Robin answered with a shrug. “But you know how it is. He’s not exactly the easiest person to reach these days. He’s always busy or flying off somewhere. I left a message for him with his people.” Her tone took on a haughty air as she snorted. “He’s all Mr. Fancy Pants now. Barely has time for those peons he left back in Hawkins. Hopefully he gets it. I can try again tomorrow.”

“I mean…I know the circumstances are awkward and she doesn’t usually want us to say anything but he should know about this, right?” replied Nancy, her eyes glancing up to the rearview mirror, checking on Tori for a moment, before returning to the road. “He loved Linda, too and…”

“Yeah, I know.”

Their mindless chatter was nothing but background noise to Tori, an incessant buzzing in her skull that she couldn’t make sense of even if she tried. And quite honestly, she didn’t have the energy or the desire to make much of an effort at the moment. It didn’t matter what they were talking about. None of it mattered. How could anything possibly matter more than the catastrophic thing that had just happened?

Her eyes glazed over as the world blurred by outside her window. A couple holding hands as they strolled down the street together, a man walking his dog while bopping his head to whatever music was playing through his headphones, an employee on the sidewalk having a smoke break.

These simple moments of people just living their lives filled her with an irrational sense of rage. How dare they. How could the world just keep spinning as if nothing happened? How could these people just keep on living their lives as if something unspeakable hadn’t just happened? Why wasn’t everything stopping to acknowledge the tragedy? Why wasn’t it recognizing the awful loss that had occurred?

Nancy pulled into her driveway and the car went silent as she turned off the engine. Tori opened the door and made her way up to the porch mechanically. She grabbed the knob, turning it, but nothing happened. Tori stood, glaring at the door as if it had done something terribly wrong to her. Robin appeared at her side, dangling her keys from her fingers. She swiftly unlocked it and three of them headed inside.

Tori froze just inside the door at the sight of the hospital bed in the living room, the image sending new waves of grief crashing over her, threatening to pull her down under their swells. The entire room tipped and she reached out, instincts kicking in to grab onto something to stop the inevitable crash, when Nancy caught her around the waist, keeping her upright.

“Whoa there,” she said softly, brushing her hair back from her face. “I got you. It’s okay. Come on. Let’s get you upstairs, alright?” Her eyes turned to Robin, her head tilting toward the hospital bed.

Robin took the hint, heading in to pull the curtains around it that they had put up for her mom’s privacy. The hospital bed had become a necessity six months ago when her mom grew too weak to make it up the stairs anymore. Tori had taken to sleeping on the couch, wanting to be near in case she needed anything in the middle of the night. For the past month she’d slept on a cot in her hospital room. It felt wrong now to be heading upstairs to her room, to a bed she hadn’t slept in for months, even though there was no reason not to anymore.

“Did anyone call my dad?” she questioned quietly, not sure where the thought had come from, logic somehow breaking through the haze of grief for a moment.

“Lacy was going to do that, babe,” Robin assured her, somehow returning without Tori even noticing, the blond now on her other side. “Everything that needed to be done tonight has been taken care of and everything else can wait until tomorrow. All you need to do right now is get some rest, okay?”

Robin led her to the bed, holding her hands and sitting her down as Nancy rummaged in her drawers, finding Tori a pair of sweats and an oversized shirt. The two of them helped her, tugging off her clothes, lifting her limbs, pulling the pajamas on, as if she were a toddler who was incapable of independence. But that’s exactly how she felt right now. She was still just a little girl, a little girl who wanted her mom, who wanted the person who always took care of everything to come and take care of all of this because she didn’t want to. She hated the universe for forcing her to.

Tori glanced down at herself and frowned, some small part of her brain recognized the shirt she was wearing. It was a shirt she never wore, not anymore, because it was attached to another kind of pain, a different loss. It was a shirt that stayed tucked away in a drawer, hidden from sight but always there because she couldn’t bring herself to toss it.

Seeing it was always like having her heart torn from her chest all over again. But in this moment, not even that pain, the pain that was so unbearable she thought she’d never recover, the pain that was the worst she’d ever felt until tonight when she learned there was another level of hell, couldn’t break through. That awareness of what it meant couldn’t break through. She was already in agony and the last thing she gave a shit about was what she was wearing.

“Alright, how about we lay down now?” Nancy urged, lifting her feet and turning them toward the bed as Robin gently pressed down on her shoulders, her body sinking back into the mattress compliantly.

Robin pulled the blanket up over her, tucking it under her chin, and sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing her hair back from her face. She fought the urge to slap her friend’s hand away, illogical anger coursing through her at the gentle gesture that should have come from someone else.

“Just try to get some sleep, okay?” her friend urged. “Close your eyes and get some rest. Everything else can wait until tomorrow.”

Tori’s eyes moved to her bedroom doorway at the sound of someone walking in the front door downstairs. Her brow furrowed in confusion, wondering who would be coming into her house at this time of night. But that was a silly thing to think because she realized she had no idea what time it even was.

“It’s just Steve and Dustin. They were bringing your car home for you, remember?” asked Nancy quietly, her hand sliding over Tori’s hair before cupping her cheek. “Just go to sleep, Tori. We’ll go down and take care of them.”

“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded softly, her hand grabbing onto Robin’s, clutching it tightly. “Please? I just…I don’t want to be in the house all alone.”

“Never. We’ll be right here all night, okay?” her best friend assured with a squeeze of her hand. “And we will be here when you wake up.”

Tori murmured her understanding, the sleep she’d been fighting for hours finally winning its battle as her eyes closed, exhaustion taking over as she slipped into sweet oblivion.

___________________________________________________________

The plain, yet organized space, was a stark contrast to the messy, disheveled guy sitting on one of the dark leather couches. A large glass window that ran along the wall would allow any passers-by to see his agitation as his leg jiggled with frustration, fingers raking through his tangled waves. In the corner was a soundproof booth with thick padding to allow for maximum noise isolation but he didn’t need that when he had nothing to work with. Speakers and amps that sat silent, waiting for music that he couldn’t write.

“Son of a bitch,” muttered Eddie, yanking the pencil from behind his ear to scribble out lyrics he’d already written over twenty times.

This song was turning out to be a pain in his ass. Every single time he thought he had it, he would try to play it and it sounded all wrong. And it wasn’t just this song. It was any song. Something that used to be as natural to him as a river flowing downhill, following the natural curve of the Earth, had suddenly become impossible.

He chewed on the end of the pencil, metallic and rubbery in his mouth, eyes screwed tightly shut as his head moved to the beat, struggling to find the right words to lay down with it. The problem was, he didn’t even like the music. The intro was messy, the bridge was leading nobody anywhere, and the hook definitely wasn’t hooking anything. And the chorus? Forget it. Their fans would boo them right off the stage with the bullshit he’d been coming up with.

“Man, you’re going to give yourself an aneurysm if you don’t chill out,” Gareth teased as he entered the studio, dropping into a chair that sat in front of the control board. “It’s our time off, Eds. Give it a rest already.”

Eddie glared at his friend, “I can’t give it a rest. I can’t get this goddamn song to work. I can’t get anything to work. Everything I write is fucking wrong lately. It’s like I’ve lost my mojo or something.”

Gareth chuckled, shaking his head, “You haven’t lost anything, man. You’re just overworked. If we’re not on tour, you’re locked in the studio writing. If you’re not writing, then you’re making calls, figuring out the next show, always trying to make everything bigger and better than the last time. You never stop, man. I swear you never even sleep. Maybe your brain is trying to tell you to slow down. If I were you, I’d listen to it. We can’t have our frontman burnt out or all of this work is for nothing anyway.”

Eddie groaned, tossing the pencil onto the table with annoyance. It bounced and then hit the floor, rolling off and under the soundboard. For the last three months, he’d been having a block, finding himself incapable of writing anything that was worthy of another Corroded Coffin album. Every single time he tried, everything just came out absolute shit. He was close to losing his damn mind over it.

They were at the top of their game right now, the hottest metal band in the country. How were they going to stay on top if he couldn’t come up with any new material?

It happened to so many bands. They became an overnight sensation, sold out stadiums, records gone platinum, only to hit their peak then slide backward after a few years. Pushed to crank out albums quickly, the quality of the craft deteriorated as concern became about keeping up with demand and striking the iron while it was hot. All those people behind the scenes, pulling the strings, wanted to cash in on their payday. And if your band failed? So what? They had thousands just like you waiting in the wings for their six minutes of fame.

Fame was a fickle bitch and if a band didn’t constantly stay relevant, it could snuff out like damp fingertips suffocating a candle’s flame. Instantly and without remorse. Eddie couldn’t let that happen to Corroded Coffin. He wanted them to be one of those groups that stood the test of time, their albums still being bought and played long after they’d left this earth. He didn’t just want fame. He wanted immortality, a legacy he was proud to leave behind.

His body buzzed with nervous energy, needing something to take the edge off. Eddie pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying at the already torn and flaking skin. He was always hearing it from Amanda, their make-up artist, when she had to buff all the dead skin off his lips and then slather them in Vaseline.

But not being able to do the one thing that he’d always been sure of, the only thing he knew he was good at, had him on edge. And the only thing that might help, he’d sworn off of, promised his friends he wouldn’t touch that shit again. He’d almost sent the band crashing and burning, torched everything they’d worked for and he couldn’t risk that again no matter how strong the urge was. He couldn’t just toss two years of being clean down the toilet because of some writer’s block.

“Eds, you’re starting to make me a bit nervous, man,” Gareth told him, angling his body toward him, elbows propped on his knees. He could see that look on his friend’s face, the look he hated, the one he’d worked so hard to keep off his face for the past couple years. “In fact, you’re making all of us nervous. You’ve been off lately. You’ve been real twitchy and moody. It’s bringing back memories, man, memories none of us want to relive. You’re not…”

“No,” Eddie snapped, his hand slamming against the table as he lurched to his feet. His fingers ran through his hair roughly, one of his chunky rings getting caught in the strands, pulling and causing him to wince. “No. I haven’t touched that shit, okay? I haven’t touched it since…that was different. I was in a really bad fucking place, man. I’m not in that place anymore. I dealt with all that shit in rehab and I am still dealing with it. I’ve got it under control. I’m just pissed off at myself. This is what I do, Gareth! I write and play music. If I can’t do that…what the hell else am I even good for?”

“That’s not true. Music is not the only thing you’re good for. Even if all of this ended tomorrow, you are so much more than just a rockstar, Ed,” Gareth assured, rising to his own feet, waving Eddie’s worries off as if they weren’t this giant monstrosity sitting in the middle of the room, keeping him up at night, causing him to chainsmoke until his throat was on fire. “Every writer goes through this shit, man. You really think you’re the first musician who struggled to write? Take a few days off. You can’t force it so give it a break. Do do something relaxing for a while. Get a room at The Biltmore. Chill by the pool and have a few drinks and get some damn sleep and maybe a little sun. You’re starting to look like the undead, my friend.”

“Thanks asshole,” he huffed, snorting with a roll of his eyes. You could always count on a friend to give you the brutal truth and Gareth was an expert at that. Of course Eddie needed that dose of reality from time to time. It was what kept him grounded. It was what kept him clean.

“I mean it. I say this with all love, man, but you gotta do something different. You’re looking less rockstar and more Dracula, and not in a sexy way. I mean, some chicks might be into that pasty, sunken eyes look but only if you can stay upright long enough. Call Gianna and see if she can meet you for the weekend. We don’t have to be in this damn studio for another two weeks. So, get the hell out of here and take advantage of the time off. They’ll have our noses back to the grindstone before you know it.”

Eddie considered his friend’s words. A weekend at The Biltmore didn’t sound half bad. He was drained, absolutely fatigued, running on nothing but black coffee and a dream. He’d been pushing himself hard for the last few months, harder than he ever had, angry that he couldn’t get one damn song right. Music was the only thing that kept him sane anymore. It was the only thing that mattered in his life anymore. Without it, he didn’t know who he was and that terrified the shit out of him.

He’d had more sleepless nights than he could count, his brain unable to quiet, desperate to find that next great song. That anthem that would have kids from California to Maine banging their heads, devil horns raised proudly. Maybe he did need a break, a chance to reset. Who knew? Maybe it would get his creative juices flowing again.

Inviting Gianna, now that part he wasn’t so sure about. The last time they’d talked she’d called him a selfish prick, told him to go to hell, and hung up on him. Eddie might not be the smartest guy in the room but he knew how to take a hint. Spending a weekend with him was probably the last thing she wanted to do. Whatever. It was only a matter of time, anyway. He’d known this was coming because it always did. None of them ever lasted.

He hadn’t had a relationship last longer than a couple months since…nope. He shut that thought process down, a door slamming in his brain. That was the name they didn’t speak. The name he did not allow his brain to even think. That name always led to pain, pain that led to…other things. Things he was trying to stay away from. Things he swore to the guys he wouldn’t touch again and he intended to keep that promise. So that name stayed locked up tight where it belonged.

Fingers snapped in his face, jerking him from his thoughts. Gareth stood in front of him, brows meeting in concern. “Hey man, you still with me?”

“Yeah.” He laughed hollowly, shaking his head. “Sorry. I guess I must be even more tired than I thought. I was just thinking that maybe you’re onto something. Maybe I do need to take a break. Maybe I’ll even make it a whole week instead of a weekend. Sleep until noon, order some room service, watch some crappy movies, lay in the sun so I can stop looking like Nosferatu….recharge my battery, you know?”

“There you go!” Gareth exclaimed happily, clapping him on the back. “So you thinking just a solo trip or inviting your girl?”

Eddie snorted, “I’m going solo on this one. Besides, I’m pretty sure she’s not my girl anymore.”

Sighing, his friend gave him the look, the look Eddie had received more times than he could count, especially these last few years. He squeezed Eddie’s shoulder and he knew what was coming but he really didn’t want to hear it again. He knew he was hopeless when it came to relationships. He knew he sabotaged every single one but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. No matter what the guys said, it didn’t make a difference, and it just pissed him off that they felt the need to keep harping on something that wasn’t going to change.

“Eds, you’ve got to stop chasing every single damn girl away,” Gareth groaned. “It’s been years, my friends. Years with an ‘s’, meaning plural. You’ve got to move on at some point. It’s like you think you don’t deserve to be happy but you do. I swear to you, you do. You know she wouldn’t want this for you. She’d hate to see you doing this to yourself. You say you’ve let go and moved on but it sure as hell doesn’t seem like it. I don’t know if you’re still holding out hope that one day Tor…”

Eddie’s hand slapped over his friend’s mouth, cutting him off before he could finish her name. Gareth knew the rules. They all knew the rules. He’d been very explicit about the rules with every single one of them. The rules were in place for a reason and saying that name was the number one no-no. Gareth knew what hearing that name did to him. His friend shoved his hand away, rolling his eyes.

“Fine, you’re holding out hope that one day the person we don’t name is going to suddenly show up and want you back but it’s not going to happen. You guys broke up four years ago, Eds. You can’t keep destroying every single relationship you have because you’re still waiting for the one we don’t talk about. I know you hoped that one day things would be different and…that unnamed person would come find you but it’s not happening, man. You two haven’t even spoken in four years. Don’t you think it’s time to move on? I’m betting she has.”

“Hey, Eddie!” called his manager, Arty, as he walked in. “I’ve been looking all over for you. What the hell are you doing in the studio, kid? Did you miss the memo that you’ve got two weeks off? You should be out living it up and enjoying your break because I am going to work the hell out of you guys when it’s over. The fans are anxious for the third album. We gotta keep the fires burning red hot, you know. Anyway, we got a message for you. Usually, we ignore that shit because it's just fans trying to find a way in, but this one sounded like it might be legit so I wanted to double check. It was from someone called Robin.”

One simple word, two syllables, a name, and he was spiraling. Jesus, had they known him and Gareth had been talking about her? Was the universe playing some perverse trick on him? His stomach twisted, muscles tensed, the wrench spinning and spinning around the bolts that held him together until he was twisted so tight he couldn’t move. Everything went rigid, strained to its maximum threshold, ready to snap under the slightest pressure.

The blood whooshed through his head like a tidal wave, pounding in his ears, behind his eyes. Eddie’s hand came down on the table, propping himself up, knowing he had to find out what the message was even if it had the potential to destroy him. There was only one possible reason that Robin would even bother to try to reach him after the last conversation they had.

“She said…” Arty paused, bringing the yellow notepad closer to his aging eyes, unaware of how tightly Eddie’s hand had wrapped around the edge of the table. “Tori’s mom passed away a few hours ago and she felt like you should know. They haven’t made any arrangements yet but she left a number for you to call her back if you want to know the details.”

Arty held out the slip of paper proudly, smiling like he’d just done Eddie some massive favor. The man had no idea what he’d just done. He’d taken over their management almost three years ago once they got too big for the guy they’d had before. When playing smaller venues turned into massive arenas, Todd could no longer handle it. He was more of a small time guy. That was when Arty swooped in, a guy who’d worked with some of the biggest names in the industry when they started to take off. That was his specialty, not getting you to the top but helping you stay there once you’d reached it.

He knew about Eddie’s substance abuse issues, but he never knew why he’d first touched the stuff. He didn’t know why the idea of forgetting everything, of not being in control of his own faculties, of just allowing himself to get swept under the bad boy rockstar image had been so appealing to him. But Arty had been the one to kick his ass and get him into rehab, telling him he was going to destroy everything, that he was a ticking time bomb sitting in the center of the band, that was going to explode and decimate it all if he didn’t get his shit together. He’d seen bigger bands than them fall apart over the same shit.

Eddie’s eyes darted over to Gareth’s, his best friend since they were kids, the one who understood exactly what this meant, how this news was causing him to spin out of control like a car careening on the highway. That careful wall he’d built around anything that had to do with her was crumbling apart around him, massive chunks tumbling and smashing to the ground to expose everything he worked so hard to conceal.

Gareth stepped forward, taking the paper from his hands, looking down at the hastily scrawled set of numbers as if Robin herself were going to leap off the page. He looked back up at Eddie, eyes wide.

“Vacation plans changed?” he asked knowingly and Eddie didn’t miss the flash of fear in his friend’s eyes, the way his jaw stiffened into granite. He knew exactly how hard it would be if Eddie made this choice. He knew what the potential fallout could be. But he was going to have to take the risk because what other choice did he have?

“I guess my vacation time is going to be spent in Hawkins…” Eddie murmured, eyes falling back to the paper again, his brain struggling to catch up with the decision he’d just made, the repercussions of what he was about to do.

“Hawkins? Where the hell is Hawkins?” Arty asked with a snort. “Sounds like some podunk town if I ever heard one.”

Eddie lifted one eyebrow along with a shoulder. “That’s exactly what it is. Some podunk town in Indiana.”

“So, what the hell is in Hawkins that’s got you spending your precious time off there?”

“Everything,” he whispered, snatching the paper back from Gareth and striding out of the room.

Here it is! Hope you all enjoy. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts. I am forever trying to better my writing so feedback is always welcome and reblogs are always appreciated. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist. And if you do, please make sure your age is on your profile. I will not add if it's not.

Taglist: @browneyes528 @chevelle724 @tlclick73 @transparentenemypenguin @missmarch-99

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andypantsx3 · 10 hours

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hi andie!! 🥺 i have a few lil questions for you, if you don’t mind 🥺 (you may choose to answer this publicly or privately, whichever is more comfortable for you!)

would you have any tips/advice for writing/posting on a schedule? 🥺 how do you manage to stay on top of releasing/writing parts of your series consistently? do you keep daily goals? internal deadlines? a system? 🥺

i’ve always adored how organised you are with your fics!! and how regularly you write and update too 🥺 i am currently ~~trying to write and post more regularly (esp the ones for ficsforgaza!) but am stuck on how/where to start 🥺

Hi Sellie my love!! Omg yeah of course I'm happy to answer!! Idk that my system will work for you because everyone is different but I'm happy to explain my process!

These days I do not have much time or large stores of the right kind of focused energy it takes to write, mostly due to work and other personal life things I have going on right now. So I'm all about keeping goals microscopic as hell, removing blockers that distract me, and removing any pressure to write, actually lmao. I find that I'm most enthusiastic and productive when I don't feel like it's another obligation to deliver on, in the midst of all the other thousands of things I am responsible for in my day-to-day, if that makes sense?

In terms of goals, I have a loose one of writing just 100 words a day, but I cannot emphasize enough how loose it is. I do not ever try to make up for days I missed because that just adds more pressure. I do not try to push myself into doing it if I'm not feeling it because the last thing I want is for writing to feel like anything but a fun hobby. If you intend to take the Andie approach, I would advise you to set a goal that you think is so small you could achieve it by sneezing on your keyboard. Meeting goals is like, proven to release dopamine & boost your mindset, so it's more important overall to meet any goal than it is to have an impressive one.

Relatedly, I only promise things on a schedule when I know 100% I have the enthusiasm to meet it. I don't set deadlines to motivate myself, rather I let the deadlines be motivated by me, if that also makes sense? And if I have competing fics, I will prioritize working on whichever one has an actual deadline (like I set aside all my other fics to work on the one for Lore's a/b/o collab) because I know the boost I'm going to get from delivering on that is going to help me write the other ones after anyway.

I also try to remove as many blockers as I can so that writing is easy as pie. I write when I know I can control most of the factors that would sabotage me—early in the morning. If I can help it, I usually try to write first thing before I log on to any of my socials in case there's some spicy discourse I'm going to be absorbed by. It's also essential for me to do before work because work sucks the absolute life out of me right now, and I am almost never in the right headspace when I get home. Also no one ever tries to call or text me first thing in the morning so there are fewer distractions at play and it's quick work to just sit down and bang a few lines out.

I also set up my fics so that it's easy for me personally to work through them. They are all planned in advance so I know where I have to go with my writing and I'm not stuck waiting for an idea. But they're also not planned down to the detail, so that I don't feel like there's nothing left for me to explore mentally when writing!! That helps keep things directed but still interesting to me, so I feel motivated to keep returning to them.

It's really all about finding what works for you! Reflecting on what you've written already, when did you feel most motivated to write? What time of day was it, most often? What fic was it and how had you planned that/what was the subject material? Was it when you'd had a deadline to work against, or when no one knew you were working on it? Recreating those conditions to the best of your ability is what I think will help you stay engaged.

And again I cannot emphasize how much more important it is to stay motivated than it is to deliver anything regularly or on an impressive timeline. The motivation is the key to helping you to keep delivering long term. If you write something regularly for 2-3 months but then burn out, that's not gonna help you!! And honestly, meeting small goals and feeling good is actually going to motivate you to write more and faster anyway, so it's a win-win lol.

#i hope this makes sense!!!!!!#feeling a lil bit jumbled this morning so it's not as directed and articulate as i would like but i hope the key points are clear & helpful #ask andie

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little-reader · 3 days

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Woody - Season Two Released

Masterlist

Carl Grimes x Male!Reader

If you were unaware, this is the second season of "The Son Of A Monster." You may not understand the following if you haven't read the first season. Thank you.

Warnings; Graphic Gore, Death, blood, Slow-burn, Sexual tension, homosexual relationship (If you didn't know), Cursing, Negan is the Readers dad, Enemies to lovers story. Fighting. Zombie Apocalypse. (The Walking Dead TV show)AMC rights, I do use the storyline and some scenes.

“I gotta go, Woody.”

The voice sprang through Carl's head, bouncing around and mixing. The words he heard a week ago. However, he hadn’t seen him since the day he left and he wasn’t brought back. He was pissed, to say the least. Something told Carl he wouldn’t have made it back, but he refused to hear that voice.

Something went wrong with the plan. Negan didn’t back down, even when his son was brought out before him. A second later shots rang out, and everyone had to fend for themselves. Rick didn’t tell Carl much, but they couldn’t find out where he disappeared to, Y/n smith had slipped out somewhere, they weren’t sure where and when he got out, or if he even did. Rick said the cars all pulled out, and he didn’t see Y/n when they were leaving, which calmed Carl down.

Carl stayed up at night watch, hoping there was a slight possibility he might appear out of thin air. Walk down the street with his stupid smile and his arms out. Carl wasn’t in love, he felt more than that. The cold nights he spent that week, watching the roads and trees sway, only made Carl more disappointed that he couldn’t find Y/n. He was truly pissed.

Iris held her stomach, for just about eight months. She worried about the timing, where would she go, without the father of her twins. The father who was gone, even if he was here, was foolish and reckless. Her feet were swollen, and her eyes tired. She helped at the clinic. The past week, they took shots from Negan’s men, some getting hurt and needing medical help. They needed as many hands as they could get. She was there all night and most of the day to make sure everyone was okay and healed.

Iris made friends with the new people when she first came here. They understood her the most, nicer in a way, and she helped them. When she first came here, the people were shocked to find out she was pregnant, mainly because of her age. She was brought in kind arms, which she accepted and gave back. Rick trusted her enough to watch Judith when Carl was busy or if no one else was able to. That gave Iris practice.

She enjoyed the days she got to watch Judith. They would sit on the porch, watching the clouds move, and play with handmade blocks. Kids were something Iris always loved. She adored them and wished to have her own. Though, now how the world was, she was scared. Not just about the kids, but about herself. Would she be safe having to look out for two kids, or would she even be able to make it past birth? Either way, it was her or her kids, and at the moment, she wasn’t sure who’d she choose.

She sat with Judith beside her on the carpet in the Grimes living room. There was a search for Y/n, not a very big one, and barely a search at all. They said they’d keep an eye out for him, but they didn’t even like him. Rick did, he had explained to the men countless times that Y/n was a kid, and kids don’t always understand the world, or what was good or bad. Iris knew that was true, and she was glad Rick had that mindset, especially with Y/n, the son of his enemy.

Judith smiled as she played, surprisingly the day was calm. A group just came back from taking one of the first stations down, they celebrated for another day to live and buried the ones who fought.

She had made Judith a bowl of mushed corn, which she enjoyed. Iris kept finding it around the carpet or on her mouth or hands. She chuckled to herself, wiping the baby's hands for the fifth time, this time making sure it was fully off. Rick was home, in the kitchen with a few others. They were formulating a plan for the next station, well the main topic.

“The kids have been lost for a week, are we even sure he’s alive?” Aaron asked, looking at the map they laid across the kitchen counter. The map had marker lines, pins, and prints marking it, pointing to the places, stations, and whatnot, for them to seek or destroy. Each marking had a certain color, one more important than the other. They were searching for him, Y/n. So far, not a track, means no luck.

“Have we checked in with Hilltop or the kingdom, he might have been able to slip in with one of them,” Toby suggested, his finger running across lines.

“No, we haven’t heard much from the kingdom since the war started, Hilltop has a group of saviors captured, Aaron didn’t see him there,” Rick stated.

Iris wasn’t sure why Aaron continued to help, after the death of his husband, Eric. Though, he lost a family member and gained one on the same day. A baby, cute one too, Grace.

“What if he went back to Negan.”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Rick shut the idea down in an instant. This made the others think.

“Aarons right, what if he went back, it's his dad after all, so what if he ran back to him-”

“Rick's right, he wouldn’t do that.” It was like Iris appeared out of thin air. She shut the man down, just in a second. “He wouldn’t do that. Hell, he's a stupid boy, but he knows when to be smart..”

Toby shifted on his feet, looking up at Iris. “How could we know?” He asked, softly.

Iris smiled. “Because of Carl. He wouldn’t break his promise to him. He cares too much. You may not see it now, or even ever, but Y/n has a heart. Big one too, and Carl? He sees himself in Carl, before all this. If he’s still alive, he either captured, trying to make his way back, or holed up somewhere injured.” She was very serious, her tones stone cold and eyes cutting into their throats. “Find him, if he’s not at Hilltop or the Kingdom, check the woods, near Baste Creek, where that big field is. Carl can probably show you where it is.”

Rick nodded as Iris was called by the baby roaring in the living room. They had a lot to think about, even though there wasn’t much time to spare.

Carl held the knife with the carved “H” in it. What did the “H” stand for? He pondered that for days. He thought of names, repeating them. He thought it might be a state or shop logo, but the carving was too gritty to be those.

It wasn’t that Carl was locked in his bedroom. He was able to leave, but he wasn’t allowed in any of the fighting going against the two teams. Carl saw a man, three days ago, and his dad scared him off. He said it might be a savior spying on them. That Carl refused to believe. He went back and left food for him, writing “sorry” to let the person know he was friendly.

He might go back, see the man again, ask him the three questions, and show his dad he wasn’t a savior. That would leave him vulnerable, but he was willing to risk it. Something he said before that caught his interest.

The morning called. He sighed and bounced off of his bed. It was early. Because of how many people were out, Carl had the duty to make sure everything was safe. He had stations on the wall, gate, or checking the garden and pantry.

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his hat as it shifted in his hands. He was surprised how long it kept with him, and how long it stayed together. He brushed his hair down with his fingers, shaking his hand from the loose hair that attacked his fingers. Carl ran his thumb over the rim, brushing off the dust, and placing it on his head.

His feet crossed his room and into his closet, grabbing a pair of jeans, a grey long-sleeved shirt, and his flannel.

He didn’t like brushing his teeth, but knowing what it used to be like, he did it anyway.

“Hey,” Carl said, making his way downstairs, and seeing Iris with his little sister. She smiled at him, as she picked up Judith and rested her on her hip.

“Where are you off to today?” She asked, following him into the kitchen. Carl shrugged as he grabbed himself a bottle of water.

“Garden duty, then pantry.” He stated, turning to her with an awkward smile. “Might go outside and hunt, or fish.” Iris nodded and placed Judith down by her feet, cooing at her.

“Are… you okay?” Iris asked, leaning against the counter. Her voice was laced with concern. Carl hummed, and nodded while looking at the floor, “You know, I remember when I was your age… about when the world ended.” She smiled.

Carl's brows almost touched. “How old are you?” He asked, obviously confused.

“That's rude.” She smiled and sighed. “I’m not Y/n’s age. Only a little bit older. Nine-teen. Which makes me four years older than you.” Carl looked a little shocked. He nodded slowly. “When I was fifteen, I used to have mental breakdowns about boys.” She laughed at herself. Iris shifted off of the counter to pull out a chair from the table and bring it over. “It was childish, but, to be fair, I was a child. Now I miss that part of me… anyway, the point is, you're allowed to feel that way. Upset, angry, tired. They're all normal.” Carl bit his lip anxiously and nodded, placing his water bottle on the counter.

‘I, uh… I don’t know.” He sighed and cracked his knuckles. “I guess I’m upset. I mean, I don’t know what happened to him, he said he’d come back and he didn’t, or he hasn’t. All I have is this knife he gave me.” He dug through his pocket and grabbed the switchblade, placing it in front of Iris. She looked shocked and picked it up. “I don’t even know why he gave it to me.”

“Because he adores you.”

“What?”

Iris smiled and looked at the knife. “He never let me touch this knife, you know.” Carl looked at the knife in her hand with a confused gaze. “He didn’t tell you?” He shook his head. Iris sighed and handed the knife over to the younger boy. “It, uh, it belonged to this boy he used to know. After the apocalypse, I hope he told you about his mother?” She asked. Carl nodded, remembering their moment in the fields a month back. “After that, Negan had a small group. Four of them, they would search. Sometimes starve out there. Negan would make sure he had food, and go hunting for days. He almost died at some points with run-ins. One day, his dad came back with a woman, Harriot. She ran a camp with another man, Bert. Anyway, he stayed at that camp for two months before something happened… I'll let him tell you about that part.” She sighed, then pointed to the knife. “That knife was owned by a boy named Husten. They were best friends, more than that really. He fell for him, and Husten saved him with that knife…” She smiled. Carl could tell she was saddened, but maybe not by him dying. He wasn’t quite sure why, but if Y/n was still alive, he hoped he’d open up to him more.

“So, the ‘H’ means Husten?” Carl questioned running his finger over the “H”. She nodded. “That's what I’ve been wondering for the past week.”

“It's a promise, Carl.” She stated, signaling to the knife. “A promise he will come back, and you need to trust him.”

The garden was quiet. No one around. He had a lot to really think about. He did not do it often; hoping for no one to be around. He dug into the dirt with his fingertip, finding a worm. He picked it up and placed it in the palm of his hand. The thing that will live past humans. He’d often see Daryl eat them when they would scavenge, or before Alexandria. Carl thought it was disgusting, but useful if he could hold his stomach eating things like that.

He watched the poor worm wiggle in his hand. He made a hole back in the dirt, and placed it down, watching it sink. However, he stayed sitting. His knees bent and his arms wrapped around them as he stared at the dirt.

Carl found himself daydreaming a lot recently. He couldn’t help it. He wished for a lot. For the war to stop, for the deaths to stop, for his lover to come home, for them all to agree and make up. He knew this could never happen, maybe Y/n coming home, but the rest? No.

His heart pounded as he closed his eyes. His mind drifted elsewhere.

He could see the laughter in the distance. It bounced in his brain and stuck to his skull. The sun shone into his eyes and blinded him unless he placed his hand over his brows. He remembers the gentle hand of his mother. The lawn in the back of their family home, or the old school friends, when their mothers would allow play-dates. He remembers when his mother would wait outside the school every day for him to get out. Something he could only wish to see again. The smile, which he can barely remember, placed on her sweet face. The memory of a mother. Would that be for him and Y/n? Only the memory of him?

The laughter walked away, and the dream shifted. He could see him. The smile, the two kids, the house in a field. The dream he had months prior. He wished it were true. The two children. The smiles, and the change. The happiness.

He wished for the other boys to kiss again, on his lips or cheek. He missed him. He would be missing him.

He also missed the freedom of the woods. Sure, there were lots of walkers. But the nature was free and quiet. It was a god sent.

He missed the walks outside the most. With him and his group, a bunch of badasses, strong and independent. I could feel him needing to be back in those woods.

He found himself in the pantry, with a small bag. If he was going to go out, he would do it for a reason, and to him, this was a good one.

Carl thought of just going outside for no reason, but that would be fruitless. So, he grabbed himself a water bottle, and a nutrition bar, and left for the escape wall. He didn’t really need to, he could have just gone through the gate with no problem, but for “old” times' sake, he would go over the same wall they used to.

He knew the paths like the back of his hand. The smell felt like home. His boots felt comfortable with each step. He felt his heart race. Memories came flooding back, of when he and Y/n would sneak out and goof off. They would go to the boarded-up house and sit on the rusted couch, reading comics. That, or the field, and sit and stare at the sky. Carl could hear the laughter, like before, in his ear.

Y/n ran through the field, Carl chasing after him. The stupid grin on his face as he ran off into the tree line. They had been out most of the day, messing around at an old game store. They had a small stash in their bags, but y/n ended up setting off the alarm, and instead of trying to turn it off, he ran out of the store in a second.

Carl finally caught up to him. Only because his face was smushed into the dirt. “You dumbass.” Carl laughed as the other boy lifted himself out of the mud, spitting a bit.

“God, I think I swallowed something.” He started to gag and spit. Carl laughed and hit the back of his head. “I'm serious… I think it was a beetle… I’m gonna puke.”

Carl had to hold his hair back as he puked into a nearby river. He had laughed the whole time. That was the first time Carl really realized the other boy was human. When he realized he felt things, and he wasn’t a monster like his father.

He smiled at the memory of the boy. Something he couldn’t forget even if he tried.

Carl was back at the house, where they’d hang out a lot. He needed to be sure the boy was there or not. There was something he noticed. Blood, dripping into the house. It was old, a week. Carl knew, this could be it, he could be here alive or dead. He hoped alive, and he hoped he was here.

He held his gun out. His hand reached out and opened the door, that was locked the last time he was here. He looked around, then slowly opened the door and pushed in. The room was like not messy. Almost the same. He closed the door, making sure he was quiet, and made his way through the living room. The house wasn’t so large, but large enough for someone to hide.

He followed the blood trail into the bathroom. The bathroom cabinet had been ransacked. A bloody towel sat on the side of the sink. Medicine spilled on the floor, an empty cup, and then some bandages gone. Something happened to the other boy. Carl made his way to the kitchen. It looked like he was fine, the blood trail ended in the bathroom.

Cans of food were missing, and Y/n had a log kept up, making sure no one was in his home. Carl looked through it. Finally. He found some writing, with a bloody fingerprint. It had to be him. He had written what he took, and the date. It was in fact the day after he went missing. He must have got here and left. Carl was confused. Why saddened he found his way home, and where was he now?

He then decided to make his way upstairs, ensuring no one was downstairs. The floorboards creaked under his feet. The fine railing under his calloused hands.

There wasn’t much. The bed was unfixed, he must have stayed, then left. Carl wasn’t sure where he went off to, but at least he knew he survived the incident with Negan. This let his hopes run.

Carl felt the sheets under his hand, rubbing his thumb under them. Something peeked out of the corner of the pillow. Carl lifted it. His eyes widened. Notes, papers, and photos. All were collected together in a neat pile, hidden from anybody who would break in, and not search under the pillow.

Carl sat down and placed his gun on the nightstand. He started to go through the sheets.

The first paper had been written on.

Home needings: The back wall in the third bedroom is growing mold. Flooring is coming up in the living room. The wallpaper is peeling in the nursery. The stairs need to be rebuilt…

Carl smiled at the paper and placed it beside him. The next thing was a stack of pictures, some drawn and some photographed. There was one with a woman and a baby and Negan, but he was younger, WAY younger. Carl thought he looked happier. The next was just the woman, showing off her ice cream. He flipped again. It was Y/n, with a bat in hand as he swung. Carl sighed but kept going.

Family photos, some of him and Iris, and then sonograms. Carl flipped to the last photo. This one shocked him. It was him asleep, with a bowl in hand. He remembers this. They went on the porch one night, past bedtime, and watched the stars with a bowl of corn, Y/n’s joke. He ended up passing out, but he thought y/n did the same. Rick scolded them that night.

He smiled and placed the picture back.

He started flipping through the papers. A lot of them were from magazines, pictures of the world before… and some adult content that Carl had thrown under the pillow. It was obvious how long the other boy had been staying here, even before the two met. There were also drawings of Alexandria. Some of the walls, with little notes, say “The escape wall”. There was one of Judith and Iris together. Not detailed, but Carl could tell who it was.

Then, there was the lake, with a hat, Carl’s hat, floating in the middle of it. On the back of that drawing, was a note: There was a lake and lakehouse about five miles west of the house. It’s nice too. I didn’t have a chance to check out the lakehouse, or shed, or whatever it is. There might be some supplies. The lake had a few biters in it, I almost drowned the other day. One grabbed my leg, but I was able to play it off, I didn’t want to worry Carl.

He remembered Y/n telling him he was just a pro at holding his breath, now he has proof that he’s a loser. Carl laughed at the thought and placed the paper down. Another drawing. This time, it was two hands, fingers touching, with a smaller picture of a different boy attacked. “H”.

The field is just above the lake and lake house. It's quiet. I went back today to make sure the gate around it is strong and there are no biters in the field. I almost got bit by a copper head, killed it, and ate it. Saved some for Carl, he said it was gross and I could keep it. Iris liked it though, but she likes it a lot. A few days ago, when me and Carl found it together, after the lake, we shared a moment. I wasn’t sure if it was just me, and I guess I won’t be sure. I know something though, I like the feeling of our hands touching. It reminds me of Hue… I miss him.

Carl felt like he was invading at that point, and decided to gather up everything and place it back into the pile it was once in, and under the pillow. However, he noticed something shining. He grabbed it and lifted it. A homemade necklace, with a shard of some kind. It had a beautiful print on the outside, like a plate. He placed it back safely, and made the bed, feeling like he had too.

He set back home before someone noticed he was not there.

@ritosparty ❤️

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