#america x ireland

[karpachev]

A little (lot) late for Christmas, but happy holidays nonetheless 🥂🍻 ⸜(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)⸝

Thought i'd draw something cute (or at least try hshshjfjd). Sorry for hetalia spam, i wont stop :D

[isupportzaynxliamxziam]

Saturday, 26 February 2011

The boys travel to Belfast as they and 8 other X Factor contestants of The X Factor perform at the Odyssey Arena as part of The X Factor LIve Tour. They start their gig with Only Girl (In The World), followed by Chasing Cars, Kids in Ameria and My Life Would Suck Without You

credits to Rebecca M's YouTube

They end their show with Forever Young

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part One)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Smut, Age-Gap, Daddy Issues

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

It was a Friday evening when you came home after a long day at school. At 19 years of age, you were in your final year with only six weeks to go until graduation and whilst you were one of the oldest students in your class after having spent a year in America with your father, you sure were not confident.

You struggled to settle in, especially after your mother Sarah remarried rather quickly, and whilst you liked your stepfather Frank a lot, you felt somewhat out of place at his house.

Frank had a big family, including three brothers and one sister. His oldest brother happened to be no other than Cillian Murphy, an actor you had admired since you turned sixteen. 

Your mother told you about him before he showed up for dinner one night, cautioning you to be friendly, and ever since that evening, getting Cillian out of your head was impossible. 

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him walk through the door. He looked even more attractive than he did onscreen. His slightly grey hair, piercing blue eyes, and strong jawline sent shivers down your spine. 

Cillian was in his forties, just like your stepfather Frank, but this did not really bother you, and as the evening wore on, you could not help but feel increasingly drawn to him. Thus, when you heard that he would come over again tonight, you were ecstatic. 

As soon as he walked through the door, your heart raced faster than usual, making it hard to catch your breath. 

"Hi," you managed to say, forcing yourself to stay calm despite how much you wanted to reach out and touch him. 

"Hi Y/N, how have you been?" he replied, taking off his jacket and hanging it up and following you into the living room after your mother yelled out from the kitchen, telling him to take a seat as Frank would be home soon.

"I've been well. And you?" you asked, and he confirmed that he too kept well following which there was an awkward silence between you two for a few moments, both of you clearly feeling the magnetic pull toward each other. The chemistry was undeniable, making it difficult to focus on anything else but your growing desire for one another. 

Finally, breaking the silence, Cillian spoke softly, saying, "So, what do you usually do on Fridays?" 

You hesitated for a moment, trying to think of something interesting to tell him.

"Fridays, I am at school," you chuckled, and Cillian felt silly for asking.

"Right, of course. Frank told me you spent a year in America hence, you have not finished year twelve yet. How was that like?" Cillian asked as he moved closer, his gaze burning into yours.

"It was good. I learned a lot about different cultures," you told Cillian, feeling your heart racing. 

"That must have been quite an experience! So, what made you come back? Your dad lives over there, doesn't he?" Cillian asked, leaning back against the couch with a hint of flirtatiousness in his voice.

"Yes, he does. I missed Ireland, though, and I needed to finish school to start university," you explained. "My friends here in Dublin are great, though; they made the transition easier," you then informed Cillian, who nodded in understanding, continuing to study your face with those captivating eyes before, finally, his brother Frank arrived home.

Your heart sank, feeling the sudden interruption, although you could sense the anticipation and excitement between Cillian and you. However, you both knew that now was not the right time because Frank was present.

Frank and Cillian engaged in some small talk while you sat in and listened, which is when Cillian brought up his recent fight with Danielle.

Danielle was Cillian's wife, a beautiful actress, but you did not care for her. It seemed she always got under your skin. Even Frank admitted that Danielle could be somewhat high maintenance and, clearly, Cillian was over her constant antics.

It seemed to you like they fought a lot , and even though it wasn't your business, you found yourself wondering if, perhaps, Danielle might be part of the reason why Cillian felt so drawn to you. There was a certain magnetism between you two, even if you had not explicitly acknowledged it yet. Cillian's wife had always irritated you somehow, and the thought of him potentially wanting to escape from her was tempting.

"Do you mind if I crash here tonight? I am not keen to go home," Cillian eventually asked his brother Frank as it was getting late, and, of course, he did not mind.

"Sure, you can have the guestroom upstairs, man," Frank suggested, knowing full well that his wife would not appreciate him sleeping elsewhere on such short notice. But he was his brother, after all, and thus, he did not care about the consequences. 

With that, your mother handed Cillian a pillow and blanket, and your father poured him another glass of wine before they continued their conversations.

Just as they talked, you could not leave your eyes off him, imagining what it would be like to kiss him and what it would feel like to hold him close. You blushed just thinking about it and tried concentrating on the adult talk around you.

This continued for quite a while, but since both your parents had to work the following day, at around ten o'clock that night, they decided to retire to bed, leaving you and Cillian alone on the couch.  

As they left, Frank gave Cillian a pat on the shoulder, wishing him a good night and then, after a little small talk between you and him, Cillian too made his way upstairs, leaving you all alone on the couch. 

Your eyes locked onto Cillian as he walked away, and you could not help but stare at his rear end as he ascended the stairs. Your heart started racing again, your body craving to get closer to him. 

As he reached the top of the stairs, he glanced back down and caught you looking at him.

As his eyes met yours, a shared understanding was passing between you. It was a silent agreement that neither of you could ignore. The electricity between you was palpable, and it was clear that something had to give.

Your eyes alone motivated Cillian to come back down, and as he slowly descended the stairs, he never once broke eye contact with you.

Silently, he then approached you on the couch, sitting beside you and placing his hand gently on your thigh. 

"This has been a good evening," he whispered, causing your heart to race wildly.

"What do you mean?" you asked, feigning ignorance, but both of you knew exactly what was meant. 

"Oh, nothing specific," he responded, his eyes searching yours, the desire between you two evident.

You could not control the heat radiating from your cheeks nor the swelling in your chest.

With his hand still on your thigh, you nervously cleared your throat.

"Why don't we watch a movie? You do not seem tired yet," you nervously suggested, desperately trying to change the mood.

Cillian raised an eyebrow, seemingly intrigued by your suggestion.

"Are you sure that watching a movie is what you want to do?" he asked, his voice deep and husky.

His fingers moved gently along your thigh, drawing circles, and sending shivers down your spine.

"No..., or maybe yes. I do not know," you stammered in response before inhaling sharply.

"Fuck, I am sorry, Cillian, I just find myself struggling to keep my eyes off you," you then blurted out, your heart pounding loudly in your ears, feeling like a fool.

He chuckled lightly, his warm breath caressing your cheek. "I have noticed, and, to tell you the truth, I can’t keep my eyes off you either," Cillian told you before he paused for a moment, his fingertips grazing the sensitive area behind your knee.

"So, instead of watching a movie, do you want to show me where you sleep?" Cillian asked teasingly and with quite some confidence, causing you to gasp.

A mix of excitement and fear coursed through your veins as you struggled to breathe properly. "You want me to take you to my room?" you murmured, allowing his hand to move higher up your thigh.

"Yes," he whispered, his voice dripping with lust.

“But, you are married,” you ought to point out, causing Cillian to chuckle again.

“Yes, I am, but I am sure you can keep a secret,” he told you, and you nodded shyly, cheeks blushing.

"You know, I haven't had sex in weeks," he confessed, his voice more profound than ever, causing you to swallow harshly. He certainly knew what he wanted, and he was rather direct and forward about it.

"Is that true?" you asked, your heart racing.

"Yes," he replied, running his finger along your thigh, sending shivers down your spine. "But I won't pressure you into anything," he reassured you.

You were taken aback by his candour but also found it oddly arousing. "I... I have not either, I mean never...I never had sex before," you admitted, biting your lip nervously.

Cillian smiled, reaching over to place his hand gently on your cheek. "Don't worry. If you're ready, I'll take it slow and ensure you feel comfortable." His tone was reassuring, causing a wave of relief to wash over you.

Feeling emboldened, you stood up from the couch, brushing off any lingering embarrassment. "Alright," you whispered, moving closer to him, and as you reached out to touch his face, he took your hand, leading you towards your room.

The room was quiet, lit only by the moonlight filtering through the window. As you led Cillian to your bed, a sense of anticipation filled the air.

The silence between you was suddenly deafening, heightening the tension. Each step seemed to echo in your ears as if amplifying the magnitude of the moment. As you reached your bed, you turned to face him, your hearts pounding together.

His eyes bore into yours, conveying a mix of desire and tenderness. He slowly reached for your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"It will feel good Y/N, I promise," Cillian told you in a low, reassuring voice.

Your heart raced, and you felt a flush of nerves sweep through your body.

"Okay," you whispered, your lips trembling slightly, and as you let go of each other's hands, you couldn't help but glance down at his crotch, wondering what lay beneath those dark jeans.

You could see the longing in his eyes, mirroring your feelings. Without further ado, he took off his shirt, revealing his toned physique.

"May I kiss you?" Cillian then asked, seeing that you had not crossed this line just yet.

"Yes," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. As you inched closer to him, you could feel your heart racing in your chest. The room was now bathed in moonlight, casting an ethereal glow upon the scene. You gazed into his eyes, lost in the depths of their intensity before, finally, his lips crashed onto yours in a passionate kiss.

Cillian's hands roamed your clothed body as your tongue danced around his. His touch was tender as if he were taking great care not to scare you off. Slowly, he removed your shirt, exposing your delicate skin to the cool night air.

Your breasts quivered in the moonlight. Cillian's eyes widened, clearly appreciative of your natural beauty. He gently cupped one breast, causing you to shiver slightly.

"No bra, huh?" he teased, his voice rough with emotion. You blushed, feeling exposed but also exhilarated by his words.

"Uh-uh, I don’t like wearing a bra," you simply stammered in response as, quickly, he unbuttoned your jeans as well, and you nervously wiggled out of them.

"You are beautiful," Cillian told you, gazing over your naked figure, and you blushed in response.

"I-I didn't think you would find me attractive," you stammered, your voice cracking slightly.

Cillian smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't underestimate yourself, Y/N. Now, lie down and let me show you how good I can make you feel," he commanded, his voice deep and authoritative.

Obediently, you lowered yourself onto the bed, your heart racing in anticipation.

Cillian soon he followed suit, positioning himself between your legs, his hands gently exploring your curves.

He trailed his fingers down your stomach, tickling your soft skin and making you giggle. His fingers traced the outline of your breasts, eliciting a shiver from you. Finally, his hand reached your hip, encouraging you to open your legs wider.

Slowly, he slid his fingers down the inside of your thigh, stopping just short of your clothed crotch. He gazed at you with hooded eyes, his expression intense. You found yourself holding your breath, anticipating his next move.

Cillian, sensing your growing impatience, decided to remove his pants, revealing his thick, hard cock straining against his briefs. Your eyes widened, unable to look away from the powerful erection before you.

As he leaned forward, he whispered in your ear, "Do you trust me, Y/N?" His voice was low and husky, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You nodded without hesitation, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Yes, I trust you," you answered, your voice wavering slightly.

"Good, then take off your panties for me," Cillian said, his voice low and seductive.

Your eyes widened, and you hesitated briefly before nodding. With trembling hands, you removed your last piece of clothing, leaving you completely vulnerable and exposed.

Cillian leaned forward, capturing your lips in a fierce, passionate kiss, sending a surge of excitement through your body. His hands travelled down your smooth back, stopping just above your ass, before slowly sliding back up, teasingly tracing the curve of your lower back.

"Open your legs for me. Let me touch you," Cillian commanded, his voice hoarse with desire. You hesitantly complied, moving your legs apart so he could touch you.

"You look so fucking sexy like this," Cillian then whispered before proceeding to gently slide his index finger across your entrance, circling it teasingly.

Moaning involuntarily, you arched your back, seeking more contact. Cillian obliged and tentatively slid his finger into you, causing you to gasp. His eyes were locked onto yours, watching your reaction closely.

"So tight," he whispered, gently kissing your neck, and you took a deep breath, trying to relax and calm your nerves. It was strange being in this new territory, experiencing something so intimate with someone you barely knew.

"Have you ever touched a man before?" Cillian then asked before wiggling, with his free hand, pulling down his briefs.

"No," you stammered as you looked at him. He was even bigger than you thought and more imposing than you imagined.

"Give me your hand, Y/N," Cillian said gently before reaching for it and guiding it towards his cock.

"Touch me," he whispered, his voice a deep rumble. Nervously, you obeyed, feeling the heat radiating from his body as you tentatively wrapped your fingers around his thick shaft. Your heart raced, and you could feel the warmth of his flesh against your palm. Cillian closed his eyes, savouring the sensation as you began to stroke him gently.

At the same time, he circled his fingers over your clit, applying light pressure as he experimented with different rhythms. You groaned, feeling your body start to heat up.

As you continued to play with his shaft, Cillian increased the intensity of his movements, causing you to whimper in delight. The combination of your touches and his expertise sent a wave of pleasure coursing through your body.

Cillian pulled you close, kissing you deeply, his hand now circling your clit firmly, drawing moans from your throat.

His mouth left yours to trail kisses down your jawline to your neck, causing your body to shudder with desire. His fingers moved faster, pressing harder, as your body quaked, losing control of the waves of pleasure washing over you.

"Oh god!" you cried out, gripping his shoulders tightly, your fingers digging into his skin as you drowned in the sensations cascading through your body. Your mind went blank; the only thing you were aware of was the overwhelming sensuality filling your world.

"Sssh, your parents are right next door," Cillian warned you. "You need to be quiet," he told you, but it was not just fear of discovery that made you quiet; it was the intensity of the moment.

Every muscle in your body tensed, waiting for the next wave of pleasure to crash over you. Cillian, with his experienced touch, knew precisely what you needed. Gently, he shifted your body, guiding you into a new position.

As he settled on top of you, right between your spread-out legs, you felt his hardness against your softness, the contrast making you feel even more desirable.

"Do you want me to wear a condom?" Cillian asked, hoping that the answer would be no.

"I am on the pill. What would you prefer?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Cillian smiled devilishly, knowing you were curious about what was to come.

"I would rather fuck you bare and cum inside you," Cillian said confidently, his tone filled with raw masculinity. His confidence seemed to be having a powerful effect on you, making you wetter than you realized.

"But I'll use a condom if you insist," he added, his voice softening.

"No, I trust you," you replied, finally embracing the adventurous side you had been hiding from everyone else.

Without further ado, Cillian kissed you deeply while supporting your weight with his strong arms. He teased your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, causing a pleasant tingle to shoot through your body. The sensation was both foreign and familiar, amplifying the connection between you two.

As his hands roamed your body, his fingers explored your secret places, triggering even more feelings you had never experienced before. Your arousal grew rapidly, and you found yourself yearning for more of his touch.

Cillian, sensing your growing eagerness, shifted your position again, spreading your legs wider apart and then positioning himself against your entrance again.

His length was already leaking precum into your slid and the feeling of it mixed with your own arousal created a sensation unlike anything you'd ever experienced before.

"Is it going to hurt?" you asked nervously, breaking the intense connection you shared. Cillian smiled reassuringly, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you softly.

"Only at first," he assured you, his eyes brimming with tenderness. "I'll go slow, alright?" Cillian asked, his voice deep and commanding, causing you to nod.

“Okay,” you whispered as he began to press his tip against your entrance, slowly, gauging your readiness. Your body tensed and quivered in anticipation, each movement from Cillian causing you to writhe in excitement.

The head of his cock finally entered you, causing a sharp exhale from you as your body accommodated his size. Despite the painful sensation, there was also an indescribable pleasure in taking him deeper. Your breath caught in your throat, tears welling up in your eyes.

This was it, this was your first time, and you could not help but feel overwhelmed. You grasped Cillian's shoulders tightly, finding solace in his strength and experience.

"You're doing great," Cillian reassured you, his voice soft and tender. "Take deep breaths and the pain will fade," Cillian encouraged you as he pushed into you further.

"You are taking my cock so well. Such a good girl," he whispered, his voice laced with desire as you nodded, trying to concentrate on the task at hand.

Cillian gently started moving his hips, slowly pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in, giving you a chance to adjust to his size. You winced in pain but also felt a strange sense of empowerment that this man's presence was enough to make you feel desirable despite the pain. Each thrust brought a mix of pleasure and discomfort, but as you got used to his size, you learned to focus on the sensations and not the initial pain.

The feeling of him filling you, his cock gliding effortlessly in and out, was beyond words. The erotic friction between your bodies heightened your arousal exponentially. You became addicted to the rhythm of his hips, the sound of his grunts, and the way his sweaty skin slapped against yours.

Cillian, reading your body language perfectly, sped up his pace, picking up the tempo and pushing deeper inside you. The pleasure became more intense, overpowering, and overwhelming.

The rhythm between you both picked up, a perfect symphony of moans and grunts echoing throughout the room. Your body bucked beneath him, craving the fullness of his cock, the sheer force of his passionate embrace, and the unyielding intensity of their connection. With each thrust, the walls seemed to disappear, leaving you suspended in a sensory-rich universe where nothing existed except for the primal, primordial need to mate.

You moaned louder, and Cillian placed a hand on your mouth.

"Shh, remember to be quiet," Cillian told you with urgency, and you nodded again, understanding the gravity of the situation and how it would affect your relationship with your family if discovered.

This newfound sexual awakening had brought forth a wildfire that burned brightly yet dangerously close to the flammable tinder that was your family's innocence.

His hands were rough from years of playing his craft, yet gentle when they caressed your body. Every touch left a burning trail across your skin, igniting passion within you.

You grabbed onto Cillian's shoulders with all your might, his muscles rippling under your palms. Your cries mingled with his growls, creating a symphony of animalistic fervour. Your entire being seemed to be alive with electricity as you moved together in perfect harmony.

Cillian's hand found its way to your breast, squeezing and pinching the sensitive nipple. You let out a soft moan, arching your back to push your chest closer to his hand.

Cillian responded by placing a warm, rough kiss on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart raced, fuelled by the intensity of the moment. His fingers trailed down to your lower stomach, brushing against your clit, making you squirm with desire. His touches were both rough and tender, combining elements of dominance and affection that sent your body spiralling into ecstasy.

His tongue danced along your earlobe, making you pant with anticipation.

"Let's change positions. I am not ready for you to cum just yet," he eventually told you as he could tell that you were close to orgasming again, following which you would probably be too sore to continue.

"I want to enjoy this for a little longer," Cillian teased, and your lips parted slightly, surprise written all over your face. It seemed impossible to deny yourself such a release after coming so far. But something about Cillian's words, his voice full of control and authority, made you trust him completely.

You reluctantly agreed, though deep down, you ached for the satisfaction of reaching climax. Instead, you focused on the sensations coursing through your body, each stroke of his hand drawing you closer to the edge without allowing you to fall over.

"How do you want me?" you asked, feeling daring in the darkness of the room. Cillian's eyes gleamed with desire as he contemplated your question.

"Turn around and present your ass to me," he ordered, his voice deep and authoritative. Your heart quickened with excitement at his dominance, obeying him instinctively. You turned around, presenting your bottom to him, feeling vulnerable yet excited by the thought of being taken from behind.

Cillian grabbed your hips firmly, pressing his hard cock against your wet entrance, eliciting a soft moan from you.

As he prepared to enter you from behind, he whispered in your ear, "Remember, it might hurt a bit more in this position, but I promise it won't last long."

You nodded, trying to brace yourself for the unexpected sensation. Feeling a surge of power and control, Cillian positioned himself firmly behind you, holding you tightly. As he took hold of your hips, you felt a sudden burst of pain, but your determination to please him kept you steadfast.

"Breathe, darling," Cillian whispered in your ear, his deep voice echoing through your body, bringing both comfort and arousal. You closed your eyes, focusing on the sensations as Cillian pushed forward, gradually filling you up. The stretching sensation combined with the lingering pain caused you to whimper softly, but Cillian continued to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, promising relief soon.

With every thrust, you grew accustomed to the pain as he hit your cervix, focusing instead on the pleasurable pressure building up inside you.

Cillian began to speak dirty, his words fuelling your arousal even more.

"That's it. Good girl. Take it all, feel how good it is," he commanded, guiding your body to accept his larger size. His tone, a mix of dominance and love, left you yearning for more.

The rhythm of your bodies became a symphony of groans and gasps, the energy between you two undeniably potent. Your moans echoed through the dark bedroom, a testament to the raw desire you both harboured.

Cillian gazed to where you were connected, and the evidence of your innocent lost spurred him on even more. There was a smudge of fresh blood on his cock, a mark of his conquest over your virginity. It filled him with pride, and he wanted to claim you entirely. He increased the pace of his thrusts, pounding into you with a savage intensity. He pulled your hair back, exposing your neck, then kissed it softly, his lips trailing down to your collarbone.

Your moans turned into a low wail, halfway between pain and pleasure. Cillian's touch became rougher, his movements more urgent, mirroring your own growing hunger as he covered your mouth with one of his hands.

"Don't scream, okay? We don't want anyone hearing us," he whispered; his breath hot against your ear. His other hand gripped your hip, steadying you as he thrust into you harder, faster. You cried out, the pain shooting through your body like an electrical current. Despite the pain, your body responded instinctively, meeting his thrusts with a rhythm of its own.

Cillian's lips moved closer to your ear, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur.

"I can feel you wanting to cum, aren't you, sweetheart?" He knew exactly what buttons to press to get you going. The simple mention of your desire was enough to make your knees go weak, and you could no longer bear the exquisite torture of his cock lodged deeply inside you.

Feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, you couldn't help but lose yourself in the sensations coursing through your body. Your hands fisted the sheets, seeking purchase amidst the swirling chaos of desire and confusion.

"Good girl. Keep taking me a little longer,” Cillian whispered in your ear, his deep voice causing your body to tremble. Your mind was reeling with the sensations coursing through your body, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else. The only thing you could focus on was Cillian's cock, driving into you harder and faster. Each thrust elicited a sharp cry from you, but the pain only served to heighten your arousal.

He gripped your hair, pulling you backwards slightly and angling your head towards his shoulder.

"Keep breathing, baby," he whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your neck. Your heart raced with anticipation, your whole body pulsing with desire.

Despite the pain and the discomfort, you craved more. You knew there was something special about this man, something irresistible that drew you in. Your body ached for him, and your soul yearned for the connection he provided.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed into your ear, his rough voice making your stomach flutter.

"Almost there. Good girl. I am going to fill you with my cum soon," Cillian promised, his voice heavy with lust. Your breath caught in your throat at the mere idea of his cum filling you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his cock, begging for it to penetrate deeper.

With each thrust, Cillian's voice dropped lower, becoming rougher with desire.

"That's it, baby. Let go and take me all the way," Cillian urged, his voice hoarse with desire. Your muscles contracted rhythmically around his cock, milking him until he couldn't hold back any longer and you climaxed together, his hand covering your mouth as you did.

His voice rose with excitement, "Fuck, baby!" he growled into your ear, the sound resonating deep within you. With a final powerful thrust, Cillian erupted inside you, his entire body shaking violently. His arms held you tightly, burying his face in your neck as he came. Your body shook beneath him, wracked with aftershocks of pleasure, the room filled with the scent of sex and sweat.

"Hmm," Cillian groaned, still inside of you, releasing the last of his cum.

His chest heaved heavily as he tried to catch his breath. Your body was limp and heavy beneath him, spent from the intense sexual encounter until, eventually, he pulled out of you.

Cillian looked down at where you were joined, his eyes fierce with passion.

"Don't move," he said, keeping you on all fours as his hand reached underneath you, finding the wetness between your legs as you leaked his cum from your gaping hole, tinged with a tinge of blood.

Cillian's thumb rubbed the outside of your hole tenderly, spreading your combined juices over the entrance before slipping a finger into you slowly. You gasped, your body reacting to his touch despite your exhaustion.

"So full with my cum," he marvelled, admiring your resilience as his fingers circled and probed inside you.

"Is that blood?" you asked, looking back over your shoulder.

"Don't worry. That's normal," Cillian assured you gently, his thumb continuing to rub the entrance of your body, coaxing it to accept his finger again.

"This was our first time together, and it may take some getting used to," Cillian pointed out as if he wanted to do this again sometime.

"You will probably be sore for a few days," Cillian warned, pulling his finger out of you, and as he did, you felt the residual warmth of Cillian's seed inside you.

"Please...please let me clean myself." You whimpered, ashamed of the mess you had become.

"Not yet. Not until I take a picture of your pussy, leaking my cum," Cillian said before he reached for his phone, switching it on.

"Let me take a photo of you right now". With his index finger, he spread open your labia, showing off your hole, filled with his cum and blood. "There. This proves you are mine", he added, his voice low and dangerous.

You blushed, feeling embarrassed and exposed. "Can we please just clean up now?" you implored, wishing you could somehow disappear from the situation, which was both, arousing and embarrassing.

But Cillian was relentless, snapping photos of you and your exposed body. The sight of your defiled body filled him with a mixture of satisfaction and possessiveness.

As he took photos, Cillian's dominant side intensified, his eyes darkening with lust. He spoke to you in a tone that brooked no argument, telling you to remain silent and still. The combination of his authoritative manner and your fear of his reaction, if you refused, made it impossible for you to object.

After taking multiple pictures, Cillian finally decided that you were sufficiently documented.

With a sense of triumph, he switched off his phone and returned it to his pocket.

He stood up, allowing you to pull yourself into a sitting position. You felt incredibly vulnerable, with your legs spread wide apart, leaving you exposed. You were completely at his mercy, and you knew it.

Cillian approached you, his steps deliberate and confident. As he knelt beside you, he ran his fingers gently along your inner thigh, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake.

Your skin prickled with awareness at his touch, and your breath caught in your throat. He traced circles around your entrance, teasing it with his touch. Your body responded involuntarily, pushing forward into his caresses.

"We should get a hotel room next time," Cillian suggested, his voice laced with a hint of arrogance, knowing fully how much he had affected you.

You nodded, trying to regain control of your racing thoughts. "Yes, that would probably be better," you agreed, not daring to look directly at him as, finally, he reached for the tissues on your bedside table.

Gently, he began to clean you up, carefully removing his seed from your body. You could not bring yourself to watch, instead looking away and focusing on his movements, which were slow and gentle, never rushing. When he finished, he offered you the tissues to clean yourself further. Grateful, you accepted them and proceeded to do so, feeling a mix of shame and relief wash over you.

"I should probably leave you now," Cillian said, standing up and putting on his clothes.

"No, wait." You insisted, suddenly needing to express your gratitude. "This was fun. Thank you," you said, and Cillian smirked.

"I will show you more fun after school next Tuesday if you are game," Cillian said, giving you a suggestive grin.

"Tuesday sounds good," you replied, trying to match his boldness, even though you were unsure if you were ready for more.

Cillian leaned in, placing a light kiss on your forehead. "Be good," he commanded, flashing you a devilish smile. Then, he left your room, leaving you alone to process everything that had just happened.

Your body trembled, still humming with the aftermath of their intimate encounter.

You couldn't believe what had just transpired between you two, but at the same time, you found yourself wanting more.

Your cheeks flushed as you recalled Cillian's commanding presence and the raw intensity of their connection.

[ellecdc]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFMbHSqg/

I talk like this and people like to make fun of it because of it

Can I request for marauders to defend me and pampering me afterwards. Please, thanks

okay, first of all: people make fun of you? - what are their names? where do they live? tell them I wanna talk..... secondly: thank you for your quick requests after my post! you're my hero <3

poly!wolfstar x reader who has a distinct accent (reader's gender not specified)

CW: bullying, making fun of someone's dialect/speech, swearing, pet names.

You knew there was a chance that the laughter was not at your expense at all. Perhaps they were actually laughing at what you said, not how you said it. Or, perhaps they hadn't even been listening to you at all. But your throat still constricted painfully when you heard the girls a few seats down the table in the Great Hall from you start laughing after you interjected in your boyfriends' conversation.

The girls had been particularly catty with you before, though you weren't entirely sure why; perhaps it was because you were dating two of the most popular boys in school, perhaps it was because you were different, or perhaps it was because that's just the kind of people they were.

You'd heard them make comments about your accent before, and though it was a bit of an insecurity of yours, you tried to let it slide off of your back.

You just didn't understand what the big deal was - especially considering you were attending school in the United Kingdom for heaven's sake; if you drive 30 minutes in any direction, the accent of that region is going to be different!

People in England speak English with a variation of a British accent; people in North America speak English with a variation of an American accent; people in Ireland speak English with an Irish accent; and people from your mother country speak English with their own accent too!

So why was it you who was teased for your inflection?

"You okay, Y/N?" Peter asked you quietly from his place across from you. He may as well have shouted it, however, as the sound of your name with the company of any concern acted like a siren call for your two boyfriends, both of whom immediately dropped their conversation with Marlene and James to turn to you.

"What is it, dolly?" Sirius asked immediately, noticing the slight shine of your eyes. You tried to smile at him and shake your head; you did not want to make a big deal out of this.

"Dovey," Remus chided as he gently nudged you with his elbow. "What's the matter?"

Your eyes inadvertently flit to the girls down the table before you turned back to your boyfriends and Sirius' eyes darkened.

"Did they say something to you?" He asked gruffly.

"No! No, please, I'm fine." You begged.

The sound of voices mimicking your pronunciation permeated the air as they repeated your words.

"Oi!" Remus called harshly - so completely unlike his usual calm demeanour.

"What the hell is your problem?" Sirius added.

The girls, not showing any signs of shame waved the boys off "oh come on, it was just a joke! Y/N knows that."

"You're right, you are a fucking joke." Sirius spat as he stood from the table and gathered his book bag. "Come on dollface, we're leaving."

Remus stood as well and helped you from your place at the table. Your face was so hot from embarrassment and the blood rushing to your head left a ringing in your ears. As you left the hall, you failed to notice the shouting from James, Marlene and the others in your defence.

The first few tears fell as you were ushered to Gryffindor tower. Neither boy said anything as you walked - Sirius clearly trying to shake off his rage for your benefit, and Remus keeping a steadying hand on the small of your back the whole way there.

By the time you got to the boys dorm, Sirius let out a shuddering breath as he dropped his bag and turned to you as he opened his arms.

"Come 'ere sweets." he called to you, and you immediately fell into his waiting embrace.

Remus followed up behind you and soon, you were in the middle of a Sirius-Remus sandwich as they rubbed soothingly at your sides and peppered kisses on your head.

"You know they're wankers, right?" Remus finally asked.

You snorted at him before nodding against Sirius' chest.

"We love your voice, and your accent, and your jokes. We can't get enough of it, baby." Sirius added.

"Stop." You moaned.

"It's true!" Remus interjected, before Sirius continued.

"Honest, I almost told James to shut his fucking mouth 'cause I couldn't hear my sweet lovie over all of his yapping. You're always on me about being rude, though, so I bit my tongue. You're welcome."

You chuckled at that, and you swore could feel both boys smile above you.

"There you are; I missed that sound." Remus said, punctuated by a kiss to your temple.

"I have some studying to do, but I was wondering if you could read my textbook to me while I took notes?" Sirius asked you. You looked up expecting to see a smirk on his face but were surprised to see a faint blush dusting his cheeks and a shy smile on his mouth.

"Wait, really?" You asked incredulously.

He huffed a laugh but held strong. "Yes, really! I wasn't kidding; I love the sound of your voice."

"Maybe later you can read my novel to me too?" Remus asked shyly from behind you.

You couldn't help but laugh at the two of them. Whether they were just appeasing you or not, you couldn't help but admit the sound of you reading to them for the rest of the afternoon sounded really nice.

[cillianhead]

Heeyy, love your work💜 aaand I was wondering could you write dad's Bestfriend! Cillian and how your dad keeps asking Cillian to go on a double date with him and his wife since he's been single for a while, but Cillian doesn't want to and (you're at your house) or then somehow you and him end up in the same place later and talk about it? one of you confesses they're glad he didn't go cos they had feelings for the other and then things get heated 😉😉

Sorry if it's all over the place, I have so many little ideas in my brain rn lol

Thank you☺️

Thank you so much for your request, I've literally been thinking sooooo much about the idea of Dad's BestFriend! Cillian and how I wanted to write about it, I hope this is what you were looking for!

Enjoy <3

Illicit Affairs || Dad's BestFriend! Cillian Murphy x Reader

warnings: SMUT, age gap (Cillian is in his 40s, reader is in her 20s), taboo relationship, unprotected P in V, oral sex (f receiving), a bit angsty, having to hide their relationship, jealousy, some homophobic comments I guess?? (not from Cillian), general adult content!! (Cillian isn't an actor/famous in this also he moved to America... in this!) (Also this fic is quite long... so that's a warning!)

18+ Minors DNI

Cillian Murphy was that charming Irish man who lived just down your street. He had moved there around five or six years ago, you couldn't really remember, it was when you were just seventeen. He had moved here in the hopes of getting away from his ex-wife back in Ireland and starting over. Your dad was incredibly welcoming to him when he first moved in and they quickly became good buddies. Your dad was into sports and drinking beer, cooking out on the grill, and all that classic dad stuff. Cillian enjoyed that stuff too but he was much more into the arts than your dad ever could be. You two bonded over that. Cillian taught you how to play guitar, you'd write songs together, you'd go to concerts of bands you both liked.

Now you were twenty-four, in your last year of college and Cillian was still around, you still got together and went to concerts or played the guitar together every now and then, though you were more busy now and so was he. You'd had a crush on him ever since you had laid your eyes on him but you understood why it was wrong, understood why he was off limits. You couldn't help but grow jealous though when you'd see him bring home women every now and then and then see them leaving in the morning. It wasn't an occasion that happened often but it got on your nerves regardless, you knew you had no right to feel that way. But it still made you feel sick to your stomach.

Of course, you'd had a couple of boyfriends, none of them were all that serious. You hated yourself for comparing them to him, knowing no man could ever compare to the man that Cillian is. Your dad was oblivious to your (not-so) little crush. You had to keep it that way, not that anything was ever going to happen between you but you knew your dad would be uncomfortable with the idea of you having a crush on one of his best buddies.

"Cillian's comin' over tonight, Y/N." Your dad popped his head into your room, you just nodded and smiled before he left. You still lived at home since you studied not too far from home, your parents were more than happy to let you live there for as long as you needed but you had plans of moving out soon, as soon as you graduated.

"Thanks, Dad... I already know that." You chuckled. Your mom was downstairs cooking dinner and you had also received text messages from the man himself, earlier that day informing you he was coming over, so you were very much aware that he was coming over.

Cillian: Can't wait to see you. It's been a while, kid. xxx

You'd read the message over and over and over again. Your heart fluttered each time you did so. You hated how he called you 'kid', you were a grown woman, you weren't a kid anymore. You really hated it because you knew you didn't hate it. In fact, the nickname made you all shy and giggly, it made you like him even more.

It was around six when your mom called out for you that dinner was ready. You had tried your best to look nice, for whatever reason that may be. It wasn't anything too crazy or too dressy but it was definitely nicer than how you'd normally dress when you had guests over. A small black skirt that was a bit risky with how short it was but you could definitely get away with wearing it and a tight long-sleeved black shirt, tucked into it. You could hear chattering from the dining room, the sound of Cillian's chortling made you smile as you entered the room to find yourself meeting the back of the head of an unfamiliar blonde woman, sitting next to Cillian, and making him laugh. Your smile had dropped.

"Oh, sweetie!" Your mom waved you over to the table, the food had been served, both parents sitting on either end of the table while you had to sit and face Cillian and this strange blonde lady. Was this his girlfriend? You knew it had been around a month or so since you'd last seen him but surely he hadn't gotten a girlfriend in such a short amount of time. "This is Cassandra... we've been friends since college, I thought it would be nice to introduce her to Cillian... I've always said how I thought they'd get along."

You just nodded politely, looking Cillian in the eyes to see the discomfort staring back at you. Cassandra was beaming, as any woman should be if she sat beside Cillian, you just glared as you prepared your plate of food. You remained civil, of course, nodding along to things being said and laughing extra hard at jokes your dad tried to make. But you couldn't get rid of the big fat elephant in the room, Cassandra. She was pretty enough, with long blonde hair (obviously bleached, you thought), and makeup done elegantly but it was a bit much. Lip fillers to the max and smooth botox-filled skin. But the thing was... her perfume was obnoxiously loud for a smell. It filled the room like someone had bombed the place with perfume-scented grenades and it absolutely ruined the food. You don't know how Cillian could just sit there, breathing in her perfume without vomiting all over the place. You were sitting across the table and it was horrible, practically on the verge of a migraine, how bad must it be having to sit right next to her?

You scolded yourself silently for trying to put down this woman in your head. She hadn't done anything wrong except breathe near Cillian. It wasn't her fault you had some sort of weird jealousy issues when it came to him.

"...What... what do you do for work, Cassandra?" Cillian asked politely before taking a bite from his fork, looking at Cassandra with genuine interest. That made your gut churn.

"Oh... well I actually work for the Catholic church just around the corner," Cassandra smiled. "I actually go around... um... telling people about Catholicism and its benefits, trying to get them to join." You took a sip of your wine with a cheeky grin on your face as you saw Cillian's discomfort with her response. You knew fully well he had no issue with people practicing religion but you knew how he felt for people to go around and shove their beliefs down people's throats. With the slightest bit of alcohol running through your veins, you found some courage to feign interest in her line of 'work'.

"That's really interesting, Cassie," You hummed delightfully, your parents looked over at you cautiously. You knew you had crossed a line by calling her 'Cassie'. "What are your thoughts on gay people?" The room went silent. The drop of a pin could be heard.

Her face went beet red at this question. Your mom gave you a disappointed look before faking a smile. Cillian looked amused before turning to Cassandra, everyone waiting for her response.

"I... erm...." She was looking around the room. Now maybe you had guessed wrong, maybe she was totally fine with gay people but you had a feeling her answer was going to be the complete opposite of that. "I think... if someone wishes... to live that lifestyle... then they should... keep it to themselves..." You cringed at that response. "I think God... I think God would not approve of... that sort of lifestyle." Bazinga. Cillian was immediately put off.

"I didn't realize you spoke for God himself." Cillian chuckled as he looked down into his glass of wine with that mischievous smile that mirrored your own. The two of you giggled at each other, Cillian seemed sort of relieved in a way that he didn't have to deal with this bozo of a woman anymore and your jealousy had disappeared along with the food on your plate.

Eventually, Cassandra left hurriedly. Your mom scolded you for being rude but you just shrugged it off. Cillian stuck around to hang out with your dad as you and your mom cleaned the dishes, you could hear them chattering on the back porch, probably about the latest baseball game or your dad trying to convince Cillian to come over one day for a barbecue.

"Go bring these to your father and Cillian, sweetie." Your mom hands a pack of beer which you take carefully as you nod.

Walking out to the back veranda, Cillian sat with a cigarette in between his lips. How could someone be so pretty? You sat the beers down on the small coffee table before turning back around to keep helping your mom but were quickly stopped by Cillian's hands curling around your wrist. Electric jolts ran through you with his touch. "Why don't you join us, kid?" Cillian hummed.

"Alright." You politely sat down beside him, he sat in between you and your father. It was a lovely summer's night, the crickets chirped and the sun was only just setting at almost nine at night. It was quiet and peaceful and warm. Cillian's presence especially helped provide that atmosphere.

You tucked your legs up into your chest, you and Cillian occasionally sharing glances at each other while your dad and he continued to talk about subjects that didn't capture your interest. Every time he looked at you, you felt like you could explode, his eyes so captivating and simply electrifying. "Here, love." Cillian passed the cigarette over to you, and you took a small drag. Your dad gave you a disapproving look but shook it off as you passed it back, letting out the bellowing smoke from the chambers of your lungs and mouth.

"Weird seein' my little girl smoking a cigarette," Your father grumbled, cracking open a cold one and handing it over to Cillian. "S'not right, you've grown up too fast." While he opened himself a beer, Cillian laid his eyes on you, sucking in the thick smoke of his fag.

You just rolled your eyes at your father's comment. "If it makes you feel better... the only time I have ever smoked a cigarette is when I've been around Cillian." You giggled, looking over at Cillian to see him tilting his head at you, playfully nudging you.

"Hey," He whispered. "Don't dob me in, kid!" His voice was low and husky, you felt yourself squeeze a little at the tremor his tone caused.

Grasping your lip in between your bottom lip you just shook your head as you leaned your head against the wall of the house, staring out at the sunset. You sat out there for a little while, sharing puffs of the cigarette with Cillian until your dad got up, grumbling somethin' about how he was going to help your mother. Leaving you and Cillian alone together. Alone.

"Your parents are pretty eager to hook me up with someone," Cillian said, breaking the silence between you.

"Yeah?" You sucked in a breath.

"Yeah," He took a sip of his beer, setting it down on the table before stretching an arm back and laying it behind you, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. You were flustered, being so close to him, in this sort of dim lighting. "Apparently, I'm goin' out this Saturday to go on a double date wit' your folks... and some woman named Naomi."

You bit back a scowl. "Oh... that's nice..." You lied through your teeth, Cillian just let out an amused huff. It gave off the impression he was irritated with something but you couldn't quite pick up on why he would be annoyed. He wanted you to stand up and tell him to stay, to tell him to be with you instead, he wanted you to be angry, he thought.

You knew who Naomi was. She worked with your dad, you had met her a few times. She was incredibly bright, charming, and nonetheless beautiful, ageing gracefully. Cillian and her were going to get along quite well, in fact, you felt yourself grow sad over the fact they would probably flourish as a couple. You and Cillian sat in silence for a little while longer, you didn't know what else to say. You felt ashamed that this wasn't just a crush you had, you harbored genuine and strong feelings for him that you knew he could never reciprocate. It was wrong. But how could you not want to be with him? He was the best man you'd ever met. Cillian was kind, he understood your silence, and he made you laugh until your ribs hurt. He comforted you like no other, without even trying and god... he was magnetic, the most handsome man you'd ever seen.

"She's not the woman I'm interested in though," Cillian groused, his fingers fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, his thumb occasionally brushing over the bare skin on your shoulder. You turned your head to look at him with a frown. His face perfectly aligned with yours, hot breath on your face, his pale blue eyes lit up by the rising moon. You could kiss him at that moment... but you wouldn't. You shouldn't. "Y/N..." He took in a deep breath, and your heart raced, it seemed like he was about to confess something. "I..."

"Come on! Let me walk ya home!" Your dad stepped out, and you immediately hopped up and out of the seat, not wanting your dad to see the close proximity you and Cillian were in, not that anything was happening between you two. Not that your dad would see anything you were feeling at that moment. "Sorry was I interrupting something?" Your dad murmured obliviously, disappointment painting both of your faces.

"No... no... I'd better be goin'," Cillian stood up, brushing himself off before pulling you into a tight hug. "See ya round, kid." He whispered into your hair before letting go of you, he gave you a longing stare before turning away.

"Bye, Cillian..."

Your heart sank as you watched him go. Curiosity that ate away at you bubbled in your stomach. What was he going to tell you? Surely... it's not what you were thinking? Sitting in your room that night, you struggled to think about anything else. You hated the idea of Cillian meeting this Naomi woman and falling in love with her. You hated that you felt like you had some sort of possession over him, he wasn't yours and he never would be.

Stormy Saturday rolled around and you had no plans, you just watched your parents get ready for this double date of theirs as you wallowed in self-pity and the sky opened up, just as moody as you were. They pestered you on why you were so grumpy, you just shrugged them off, blaming it on hormones. With every step they took towards the door, your heart broke more and more. You wished them goodbye before sitting on the couch with a tub of ice cream to soothe away the pain. An hour went by and you figured the date had started by now, Naomi and Cillian were probably planning their marriage straight away and you would have to watch him give himself away, you would have to sit in the church pews and resist from standing up and screaming when the minister asks if anyone has any objections. You imagined yourself watching their first dance, watching Cillian stand up and tell the world how she's the most amazing woman he's ever known and that he loves her. You imagined having to congratulate him, you imagined growing old and alone, still just as in love with him as you are now. You groaned at your silly thoughts.

"Get over yourself." You said through gritted teeth, talking to yourself as you bit back tears.

You had some stupid rom-com on, only further reminding you of how painfully alone you were and how desperately you wished to be the one Cillian wanted. You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts by your phone buzzing beside you, quickly picked it up when you saw it was your dad calling.

"Hey dad, how's it going?" You asked with a casual hum, plopping another bit of the vanilla ice cream into your mouth.

"Have you seen Cillian? He's yet to arrive." Your dad sounded worried, he was never a worrier. "He said he was going to show up earlier but we haven't heard from him since... have you heard from him?"

"No, I haven't, is he okay... do you think?" You sat up fully now, setting the ice cream aside. It wasn't like Cillian to not respond at all for so long. If he wasn't going to show up, he'd at least let the people know. You hear a loud strike of lightning outside, shaking the room.

"I don't know, I don't know, Y/N, it's been an hour and a half, he should be here..." Your dad grumbles. You can hear the sound of your mom apologizing to someone else, no doubt Naomi was the person she was apologizing to. Sorry, your future husband hasn't arrived, you imagined her saying. "Alright, I'm gonna go, we're gonna stick around here for a little longer... call me if you hear from him."

The call ends and you're left with an uneasy feeling in your chest. What if Cillian was hurt? You tried to brush away that feeling, getting up and putting the ice cream back in the freezer and the spoon in the sink. A knock at your front door, as loud as the thunder outside made you jump about halfway across the kitchen. Who would be knocking at this time? Especially during this weather?

You rush to the door, the rain pouring out, the trees just about to be ripped out of the ground with how harsh the wind was and you open the door, scowling at the wind.

"Y/N." Cillian gasped out, he looked straight out of a movie scene. Soaking wet. He took a step in, dripping all over the place. His eyebrows furrowed together as he approached you.

"Cillian, what? What are you doing here?!" You exclaimed, shutting the door. "My parents are worried sick about you!"

"I...."

"Why aren't you at your date?" You interrupted, scolding him like a naughty child. He was shivering as he took off his sopping coat, leaving him in a white button-up shirt that was equally soaked. It didn't leave much to the imagination, with the already somewhat translucent material and the water leaking through. It stuck to every inch of his skin like cellophane, his nipples peeked through, his chest and stomach on full display. You stopped yourself from checking him out any further, growing flustered as you felt him corner you in the living room. He had a wild look in his eyes.

"Cillian?" You ask again, concerned. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his eyes locked on you. He didn't seem to really care that he was as wet as a dog.

"Y/N..."

"Cillian..." You repeated.

His eyes said everything he was thinking. Hunger, love, and deep untamed desperation. You winced a bit at the feeling of hand cupping your face. "I love you." He whispered and you gasped.

"Cillian..." You whispered back, hesitant to respond to what he just said. "Have you... have you had something to drink tonight?"

"I'm completely sober, kid," He grunted as he leaned in to kiss you, hot breath on your neck as you quickly turned your cheek to him. You pushed him away, you knew this was wrong. You took a step away from him, and Cillian gave you a look of hurt. "Y/N, baby, I need to tell you this. I have to know you feel the same way." His voice was shaking. The room shook with him, you sat down on your sofa and curled your body up into a tiny ball. "Look at me, kid, look at me." "Don't call me kid!" You yelled with tears in your eyes, finally looking him in the eyes. Cillian jumped a bit at the sudden outburst, it wasn't like you to yell.

"Y/N..." Cillian whispered, a look of hurt.

"We... we can't... I don't know... what's going on right now... but this isn't right... you're my dad's best friend..."

"And you're my best friend's daughter," He sat beside you, placing his hand on your thigh and the other on your chin, making you look at him. "But it doesn't.... it doesn't change these feelings... I have for you."

"Why?" You shook your head away, trying to hide the hot tears that slipped down your face. "Why would you have feelings for me? You could have anyone... and you decide me." "I didn't decide this," Cillian sighed, he leaned in and pressed his face into your warm shoulder. His cold wet hair tickles along your jawline. "But I want you... it doesn't matter... any woman could beg to have me... I'd still want you, Y/N. No one else matters... I need you." Your heart ached. It felt like Cillian had wrapped his warm hand around your poor heart and squeezed it until warm raspberry jam spilled out of his fist. You felt torn.

"Don't cry, baby..." His voice was low and every bit of you wanted to fling yourself at him, to confess your undying love, to run away to Paris with him and never come back. The way he called you baby was delectable. But you couldn't stop thinking about your parents, about the look on their faces if they saw this. "Y/N... baby..." "Stop calling me baby..." You cried, turning your face full of anguish towards him. Cillian's lip quivered, thumb swiping away your tears. "I don't... I don't get it. I just don't get it, Cillian... why... you? Why... me?"

"You are the most extraordinary person I have ever met, kid..." Cillian's petal-like lips whispered to you oh-so-gently. Your eyes locked on the way his mouth moved as he spoke. "I... I know it's wrong, I know I'm a fuckin' creep... for feeling this way for you... I'm old enough to be your goddamn father... I've known you since you were... just seventeen-"

"How long... have you... you known...?"

"Since you came home from your trip to California last year..." He replied all too quickly. "I saw you with that stupid boy... Kyle or whatever the fuck his bloody name was and all I saw was red... I didn't... I couldn't handle seeing you with him." You bit back a smile. "You're too good... for any of those college boys..." He grumbled. "A lady like you... she needs to be treated right."

You can treat me right Cillian, you thought. "I've never wanted them... the way I've wanted you..." "Fuck..." He let out quietly, biting his own lip in response. "You can't say things like that." His blue eyes were just a sliver of what they once were, pupils were blown wide as if he were high from just staring at you. "Most brilliant girl... fuck... that last gig we went to... I wanted to wrap me arm around you and kiss you silly... claim you as mine... but... I was too afraid."

"What gave you the courage?"

"I've just had enough," Cillian swiped another tear off your cheek. "Had enough of waiting... I can't wait any longer..."

"I can't wait any longer either... it's been eating away at me, the idea of you with anyone else. I just... I can't picture you with anyone else."

Cillian grinned at you, still shivering from his wet clothes. You put him out of his misery, connecting your lips. After all this time, what felt like an eternity, you kissed. The oxygen around you no longer mattered, you had each other to breathe in now. This kiss was not slow and romantic, it was violent like you were trying to consume each other, trying to see who could win in this cannibalistic fight. His hands grasped at your waist, pulling you onto his lap and wetting your clothes with his soggy ones.

"Take my shirt off..." He whispered, he didn't have to ask you twice.

You unbuttoned his shirt as best you could while it was wet before ripping it open and revealing his delicious skin. "You're so pretty, Cillian..." This moment was surreal. The man of your dreams, twenty years older than you, with crow's feet and grey hairs, and the most beautiful soul you had ever found, sitting in front of you with his body on display for you. Your soulmate. You both had known it for a long time now. Making out on your couch was unacceptable to Cillian so he picked you up and carried you upstairs with your legs wrapped around his slim waist.

He had been in your room plenty of times before but never for reasons like this. Never with the desire to rip all your clothes off and crawl inside you. Cillian closed and locked the door behind you before throwing you down onto your well-cushioned bed. You watched him slide out of his shoes and pull off the sticky shirt that draped off his shoulders. Now he was completely shirtless and was prowling towards you like a tiger to its prey. "Gonna take your clothes off of now, love, is that alright?" He asked quickly, fingers slipping underneath the waistband of your shorts. You nodded desperately, your brain lost in some sort of fog of disbelief and horniness.

"God..." You whispered as you helped him shimmy off your shorts and you pulled your shirt quickly over your head. Leaving you in nothing but some small boxer shorts. He grinned madly.

"S'pretty..." His hands slid up your waist until both hands cupped each of your tits in his hands. "Fucking hell, kid." You rolled your head back at him calling you that, groaning at how it turned you on and gasping as you felt his hot mouth latch itself onto your hard nipple.

"Cillian... oh my god!" Your fingers tugged on his hair before he pulled off of you with a pop.

His lips were quickly back on yours as he pulled down your shorts, now you were completely naked and he knelt down on his knees so his face was perfectly aligned with what was between your legs. Your pussy was already soaking wet for him, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. "You are the most beautiful thing..." He whispered, staring directly at your throbbing cunt. "And the sweetest." His mouth worked deliciously on you and as if his tongue wasn't already enough, he slipped a finger into you, fingering at your g-spot.

"Oh!" You writhed around on the sheets, thighs tightly locked around his head, wet hair sticking to your soft skin. He was truly devouring you, like a man who had been malnourished for years, he feasted on you as if you were his last meal. And when you came on his face, he moaned loudly. The orgasm crept on you and hit you out of nowhere, you couldn't hold in the noises that came out of your throat.

You were delirious as you lay there, whining as he continued to finger you. "Fuck... I could eat your pussy all night long, baby," Cillian panted, chin dripping in your juices. "But I've gotta be inside ya."

"I'm... on the pill..." You murmured out, he pulled his finger out of you, sucking it clean as he undid his slacks. He moaned lowly at your words, letting his pants and underwear fall to his ankles. Cillian carried you up until your head rested on the pillows now. It was romantic the way he was handling you, the moment was so intimate as he stroked his cock, lining it up with your wanting hole. "I've thought about this... for so long..." "Me too, baby." Cillian huffed, rolling his eyes back into his skull as he fit the head of his cock into your pussy, pushing the rest in there slowly but surely. You arched your back against him, whimpering as he pressed fully into you. "So good." Cillian groaned as he leaned down and bit down on your lip, pulling it away and watching it pop back into place before properly kissing you. You made out while he remained still inside of you, his hands on either side of your head as your tongues twisted together. The first thrust sent your body into a state of euphoria as he began picking up the pace, rocking his hips in and out of you. Your fingers ran scratches up and down his back. Your bed old and creaky, slamming against the wall as soon as he fucked you hard and fast while remaining still so painfully romantic.

"I love you," You gasped out. "I love you... Cillian!"

"I fuckin' love you so much," His head hung low, and you got the perfect view of him above you. His face flushed and his eyes fixed on your own face full of pleasure. "You're mine, all mine... and I'm yours."

"All mine..." You repeated with a moan, clenching around him, feeling your own high slowly begin to grow.

"You're takin' me so good," Cillian's praise made you throb, his grunting making you gush around him. "My good girl, my best girl."

The look of love in his eyes and in your own could be seen a thousand miles away. Your souls' grand reunion, your bodies becoming one, and your love finally coming out into the open, like a beautiful fruitful spring after a long and dark winter. "I'm close, Cillian."

"Cum around me, love, I wanna feel you come undone." "I want you to cum inside me..." "Fuck," He groaned, hips stuttering into you. "I'll give ya what you want since you asked so nicely." Your vision went white, ears ringing as your hot sweaty bodies pressed together, fitting so perfectly together. Never had anyone made you cum like this before. Your orgasm washes over you in foamy waves, like a stormy ocean hitting the shore over and over and over again. Cillian's rhythm slowed down as he rutted into you, warm cum filling you, and you felt so relieved, this was how it was always meant to be. His lips pressed sloppy kisses to your neck, moaning directly into your ear, both of you riding out your intense highs.

He stilled, letting a bit more of his seed spill into you before he hissed as he pulled out. Cillian lay beside you, wrapping an arm around you as shook softly, still feeling the effects of your own orgasm hitting you. His eyes examined you so gently, a dopey smile on his fairy-like face and his hair beginning to grow curly from how wet it was.

"Cillian..." You whispered, rolling over onto your side to look at him. "I love you." "I love you, kid." He whispered back, holding you like he had the world in his arms. To him, you were his world.

"We'll be okay, right?" "We just... have to keep this a secret... from your parents..." Cillian said, disappointment evident in his voice.

"Yeah... I know..." You pressed your face into his bare chest, loving the warmth. "Cillian... I wish you knew how strongly I felt about you."

"I feel the same way."

You shared sweet nothings with each other. Still, in disbelief, this was actually happening as you fell asleep with smiles on your faces, in each other's arms. Unfortunately in the morning, you'd have to suffer the consequences of your dad walking in on you and Cillian resting peacefully in your bed.

-

hi! sorry this was so long but i hope you enjoyed <3

also sorry if there are any major mistakes!

[hottpinkpenguin]

My request for the Peaky Blinders event: Tommy Shelby + A + B 🖤

A/n: yayyyyy my first Peaky Blinders request!!! thank you @astrangegirlsmind <3 hope it scratches the itch

Ask Me Stay - Tommy Shelby X Bodyguard Fem!Reader Word Count: 4331 Content warnings: non-canon, canon-typical violence, Arthur being Arthur, swearing, references to WWI, alcohol/drinking, implied smut, fade to black

There weren’t many females in your business. In fact, you were the only female bodyguard you’d ever met. Initially, it worked to your advantage: no one expected the full-figured beauty with the expensive silk gown and the pearl necklace to have two Brownings strapped to the inside of her thighs, or a switchblade sewn into the suede of her clutch. You looked much more the part of an expensive consort than a bodyguard, and it was a role you played well, leaning into the role of glib, can’t-hold-her-liquor arm candy. No one expected a woman to know how to slice a throat, throw a punch, or pick a lock. But after the element of surprise was lost in a market, that was it. No one was quick to forget you, and your business was only as good as your anonymity. So, once you’d worked a handful of lucrative jobs in any one area, you moved on. One town, one city, to the next. You’d crossed international lines, too: America to Ireland to England. Adjusting your accent had taken work, but it had been essential. The longer you could blend in as a local, the longer you could stay in any given place. 

Normally, a bodyguard’s dependability was a selling point, and their reputation was something they honed over years and years of diligent work in one area. You didn’t have that luxury. For all your gifts and guile, if you stayed too long anywhere, you ended up with a target on your back. You were too easy to pick out once people knew what to look for. At first, bouncing from one market to the next had proven near-disastrous for your business. Only able to take on a few jobs in a city, without a reputation and name recognition to trade on, you’d been forced to take meager, shit-paying gigs for washed up nobodies. The kind of men - because they were always men - who treated you like the escort you pretended to be. Even though you weren’t there to warm their cocks, you were there to save their hides. They didn’t seem to care much about that, especially after a few tall glasses of booze.

But then, you’d gotten wise. A few lucky hires later, your father had wised up to the importance of referrals. If your clients couldn’t re-hire you, you’d ask them to refer you somewhere. Usually to a contact in the business, based out of a different city. That suited you just fine, for reasons already discussed. Once this took off, the money started flowing in. You were able to buy better sidearms. Spend more on expensive gowns and jewelry to look the part. Your clientele started to ratchet up in status, in stakes, and in payoff.

It didn’t really all add up until one night in December, right before the Christmas holiday, when you’d been enjoying a rare evening off with your father. You’d been stretched out on the couch while he was pouring over the accounts, as usual, when he sat back from the open ledger with a shocked sigh. 

“I don’t fucking believe it,” he murmured under his breath. 

You’d swiveled your head around, recognizing the look of shock on his face as he rubbed his salt-and-pepper stubble (more salt than pepper these days, you realized) in distant thought.

“What is it?” you’d asked, bracing for bad news. Usually your father only commented on the accounts ledger when something was wrong. 

“You’ve got a perfect record, Little Doe.” He turned to you, using a childhood nickname he reserved for only when the two of you were alone, far from the eyes and ears of potential clients. “Perfect.”

You hadn’t really understood his point until the next client meeting, which happened to be the very one you were sitting in now. 

All the politicians, gangsters, and celebrities you’d been paid to protect: not a single injury among them. The countless expensive payloads you’d been paid to guard - diamonds, cash, drugs, you name it - not a single loss. Six years in the business without a single issue? Now that was priceless. 

You listened as your father made this point to the potential client, his eyebrows arching slightly as he contemplated a six year, no blemishes selling point. Thomas Shelby was a man of few words, preferring instead to sip dispassionately on a glass of Irish whiskey and let your father make the sale. You watched him carefully, smoothing your face into a mask of disinterest that matched his. Tommy’s reputation preceded him, as did yours, apparently. You and your father hadn’t been in Birmingham more than a month before the leader of the infamous Peaky Blinders had darkened your doorstep, cash in hand for a job he said needed the utmost discretion and impeachable talent.

“Your cost is steep,” he commented drily as he reviewed the bill your father had slid across the cherry wood poker table.

“I assure you, Mr. Shelby, our cost matches our service.” It was your father’s usual line, and, to his credit, he let it land with as much weight as ever. You’d noticed he was overselling Thomas Shelby - sounding a little too eager, maybe even bordering on desperate - which you knew was a reflection more of your father’s eagerness to secure the goodwill and the good referral of a well-connected gangster versus any real financial pressure to land the job. You were practically drowning in excess cash, a problem you’d been totally unacquainted with until quite recently. Thanks to your father’s astute management, savings were being made to ensure that the two of you wouldn’t have to clamor for gigs for quite a while. You doubted very much that, if it weren’t for Thomas Shelby’s name, your father wouldn’t have given him a sit down at all, preferring instead to celebrate the upcoming new year alone with you in relative peace and prosperity.

Thomas Shelby took another sip of his whisky as he scanned the receipt. His eyes lazed over the figures, then up to your father’s stoic expression, and then over to you. You were always present for client meetings, but didn’t speak until the contract was signed. Typically, you didn’t have to. All that was required of you to seal a deal was a coquettish smile, and maybe a timely demonstration of your skills (you’d left more than a few bullet holes in the walls of the flats you rented and in the Fedoras of your potential clients). 

“I assume this is your expensive daughter?” Tommy Shelby’s voice oozed with something halfway between derision and curiosity. You weren’t sure whether to be insulted or intrigued. Your father nodded, motioning for you. You rose from the chair in the corner of the room and stepped forward, giving Mr. Shelby a small nod of greeting.

“And I assume you typically play the role of what… a whore, when you’re working?” You fought down the rising heat that threatened to stain your cheeks. You heard your father clear his throat and fidget self-consciously. 

“I can dress for whatever part you would prefer, Mr. Shelby,” you replied coolly. “Most of my clientele are men of means, and a pretty woman dangling from their arm is a common sight. Makes it easy to blend in and do my job. If you’re unaccustomed to having beautiful women entertain you, then I’m sure we can reach a different arrangement.” 

Thomas Shelby’s expression gave away nothing as your sly insult hung in the air. You suspected he knew as well as you did that your words were rather empty, however clever your retort. You had to force your eyes not wander away from his, as alluring his sharp cheekbones and full lips may be. He held your gaze, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as if he could read your attraction to him. You lifted your chin, halfway between a challenge and an invitation. You wondered if you imagined a small quirk at the corners of his mouth, as if he were fighting against a smile. 

“What my daughter means is that she-”

“Done.” 

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until you felt your shoulders relax with your exhale at his words. Your father had been in such a rush to save what he’d felt certain was a meeting gone sideways that he fell short of words for a few moments, his mouth closing and opening without any sound. Thomas Shelby rose, all brusque and business-like, as he withdrew a hefty wad of cash from his overcoat and casually tossed a handful of bills on the table.

“Your advance,” he commented offhandedly as he finished his drink with a hearty gulp. 

“When’s the job?” you asked hurriedly as he made towards the door. He hesitated briefly, hand on the doorknob, and even though he didn’t look back at you you felt your skin crawl under his attention.

“I’ll find you when I need you.” 

The door opened, a brief blustering December breeze jostling its way inside before Thomas Shelby stepped out into the Birmingham night and closed the door behind him.

You exchanged a stunned glance with your father. He was sifting through the bills left on the table. 

“He’s paid the entire balance,” your father murmured in a mix of disbelief and suspicion. For your part, you weren’t surprised, although you barely registered your father’s words. You found yourself peaking out into the dark street, pulling back the curtains just slightly. Down the empty road, you could just barely make out a dark silhouette retreating into the late night blackness. Only the orange-gold end of his cigar betrayed Thomas Shelby’s location. You cracked a half-smile as you watched him vanish around a corner, his words echoing in your ears:

I’ll find you when I need you. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Four Months Later

“You’re fuckin’ jokin’.”

“Always such a way with words, Arthur.”

Tommy gave his older brother a withering glare as he motioned for you to step out of the darkened doorway. The glass-windowed door closed behind you with a heavy thud, bumping you deeper into what could only be described as a War Room. The Shelby brothers - Arthur, Tommy, and John - plus a stern looking dark-haired woman that the boys referred to as “Polly” were seated in plush, leather-backed chairs around a dark cherry-wood table. Surrounding the table on all four walls were maps, each of them marked up with pen marks, small red pins, and thread connecting points too small for you to read from this distance in a dizzying array of carefully laid out networks. The smoke in the room was so thick you wondered how your eyes weren’t watering. 

Aside from Tommy, the other three pairs of eyes sifted you over with suspicion, surprise, and no small amount of scorn. Tommy studiously avoided your gaze - and those of the others, you noted - and instead stood at the head of the table, bent over a large ledger. He’d barely exchanged a word with you since showing up unannounced at your doorstep two hours ago with the curt instruction to “pack for three days”. Aside from telling you that you were London-bound with his eldest brother, Arthur, you didn’t know anything about your assignment. 

“Introduce yourself, darlin’, we’re waitin’.” Polly’s voice was husky and dripping with hilarity, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. You doubted she was used to seeing another woman in this room, let alone a non-Shelby woman. 

“The name’s y/l/n,” you replied, clearing your throat a bit before continuing. “Mr. Shelby engaged my services several months ago, on retainer.” 

The youngest brother, John, chuckled wickedly and lifted an eyebrow at Tommy, still glued to the ledger book.

“That so, eh Tommy? Hope you didn’t shell out too much from the coffers!” He turned towards you, raking his eyes up one side and down the other in an obvious appraisal. “You always had an eye for a bargain, Tommy.” Your eyes narrowed at his insult. He shook his head and scoffed at you. “Since when do we make decisions about protection without consulting the family?” he pressed on. 

From across the haze, Arthur roared up out of his seat, practically vibrating with rage. His complexion was mottled under his patchy mustache and his eyes were bleary with whiskey. “I’ll tell you when, Johnnny Boy! Since Thomas fuckin’ Shelby elected himself the fuckin’ king of the Blinders is when!” 

Tommy didn’t give any indication that he’d heard either of his brothers’ outbursts before he replied back in a bored drone, “since the family is what we need protection from, in the first place.”

A breath of quiet descended over the uproarious Shelby clan as Tommy’s words sunk in. You weren’t entirely sure what was so revelatory about his declaration, but you found yourself holding your breath as your eyes darted from Arthur’s precarious dance on the edge of apoplexy, to the cold glare of Polly, to John’s self-congratulatory smirk, and lastly settling on Tommy’s ever-confident, disinterested face. Much to your surprise, he shot you a subtle wink you were certain only you could see. You felt your shoulders relax a half inch. 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Arthur’s whisper shook with fury.

“You know what it means, Arthur, don’t be obtuse.” Tommy lit a cigar and gently brushed his dark hair out of his face. He leaned against the table, retucking the hem of his crisply ironed shirt (impeccably well-tailored, you noticed idly as your eyes traced the seam up the side of his body) into the waist of his pants. You squirmed at the sight, suddenly lost from the conversation swirling around you.

“What are you playing at, boy?!” 

Tommy inhaled deeply from his fresh cigar as he fixed Arthur with the expression of an exasperated parent. 

“I’m not playing at anything, Arthur. I’m trying to make sure that the investments you’ve insisted on handling are executed properly and without incident.” 

“Incident?! What kind of fucking incidents are you expecting?”

“The kind of incident that usually starts with you being drunk at 10 am, like today.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ dru-”

“Arthur, don’t bother denying it, we all know. It smells like a goddamn distillery in here.”

John and Polly watched the volley with interest and a hint of fear. For every fraction of composure that Arthur lost, it seemed Tommy only grew more confident and cutthroat, bearing down on his brother’s insecurity with a viciousness that made you realize why he’d earned himself such a reputation on the streets of Birmingham.

“I do not need a fucking wet nurse!” 

Shit. You barely missed the whizzing whiskey glass that Arthur launched at the side of your face. An impressively accurate throw for a man that both you and Tommy Shelby had written off as a messy, 10am drunk. 

The glass collided with the door you’d entered through, shattering itself and the pane of frosted glass on the door in a rain of shards. Instinctively, you covered your face, just in time to feel the stinging bites of a few fragments dig in the skin on the back of your hand. 

The room erupted in a brawl before you’d risen from your crouch. Your hand had reflexively found its way to the butt of your pistol, diving into what looked like a pocket on the outside of your skirt, but was actually a split seam that allowed you direct access to the holstered guns you kept on your thighs at all times. Tommy Shelby had been faster. Before you’d been able to draw your weapon and fire a warning shot towards the eldest Shelby, Tommy had dove across the table at him, his hands wringing the collar of his shirt as the two collided with the back wall. A few of the intricate maps fell from their perches. Arthur’s chair tipped over with a heavy thud. Polly shrieked, John was yelling and trying to insert himself between the two. You were surprised once again by the accuracy of Arthur’s arm as he landed a few well-made punches against Tommy’s face. Tommy, for his part, responded agilely, wrenching Arthur up from the floor and pinning him against the table, his free hand drawn back for a haymaker. Polly’s voice ratcheted up another octave as she attached herself to Tommy’s fist in a weak attempt to stop him. John had wrapped his thick arms around Tommy’s midsection and was trying - futilely - to wrestle brother off brother. Arthur was taunting Tommy, his meaning lost to fury-fueled growls and obscenities, his voice gargled underneath Tommy’s choking grip. A trickle of blood had made its way down Tommy’s face from his nose and was beginning to stain his shirt collar.

Your shot split the chaos clean in two. An eerie quiet descended over the scene as the four frozen Shelby’s looked up at you as if they’d forgotten you were there. The bullet hole you’d left in the cherry-wood table half an inch from Arthur’s left ear smoldered with a thin trail of smoke.

“It looks like Arthur isn’t the only one who needs minding around here,” you commented coolly as you spun your Browning around your finger in a flashy show. You’d never been able to resist a little showmanship when it came to your guns. 

Whether it was your chastising or the sudden realization of just how out-of-hand this family meeting had gotten, you couldn’t be sure. But you saw the moment that Tommy Shelby’s eyes shuttered up. He buttoned away his rage with a self-conscious clearing of his throat as he straightened his tie. He lay off Arthur, who sprang up like an animal released from a trap. He eyed you warily, but looked properly reprimanded. Without much fuss, he grabbed his brown newsboy cap from the floor, smacking off the dust on his knee, and exited hurriedly. There was a noticeable hush on the gambling floor outside, where the Shelbys’ main book-rigging operation was headquartered. You could tell that whoever was out there - about twenty men, from what you remembered upon entering - was trying mightily not to make more of a scene than what was already done. 

John and Polly both slunk back to their chairs, looking at each other and then at Tommy and finally at you as like scolded pupils waiting to be dismissed. Tommy nodded at them absently and they both left, daggers shooting from their eyes at you. You didn’t miss the note of begrudging respect in Polly’s exceptionally brief nod as she closed the door with its busted pane of glass behind her. Leaving you and Thomas Shelby alone. 

You waited for him to speak, although you weren’t entirely sure he would. He had begun busying himself with re-hanging the maps that had been dislodged by the brother-on-brother melee of a few moments before. Which meant his back was turned to you. You watched as he wiped at his bloody nose with a handkerchief, dabbing away the trail of blood that had stained his chin and neck, before shoving the soiled square of fabric into his pants pocket. 

“Please forgive our manners, Miss y/l/n.” Thomas Shelby’s voice was so quiet you had to strain to hear him. You sank softly into one of the leathered chairs, swiping away some stray hairs from your forehead. 

“It’s quite alright, Mr. Shelby,” you replied softly. “Families are complicated. Doing business with them, even more so. Trust me, I know.” Your mind flashed to a few memories of rafter-shaking shouting matches with your father from earlier days in your career, when the money flowed less freely and the gigs were fewer and farther between. 

“It’s not alright, actually. I’m rather thoroughly embarrassed by my decorum… lack thereof, I should say.” Tommy turned towards you, still unable to raise his gaze from the floor. “My brother, Arthur. He’s a… he hasn’t been the same. Since the war. No one really has…” Tommy’s voice trailed off into a fog of memories, his eyes clouding over like you’d seen in so many others who’d seen the trenches of Europe. You waited, patiently. He resurfaced with a shiver a few moments later, half-turning towards you.

“Arthur needs more minding than I can give him, at this present moment. Besides, no man wants his baby brother acting as his keeper. I thought… well, I thought a beautiful woman like you would make a more… fitting partner for my brother’s business meetings.”

You felt your neck and cheeks redden at the compliment, your gaze dropping to your lap where you were fidgeting with your hands. Stop that, your inner voice chided as you clasped your hands together. You’re acting like a damn schoolgirl. 

“I guess I didn’t… I didn’t properly anticipate Arthur’s reaction. I should have addressed the topic with him first. Privately. Not in front of family. Or guests.” Tommy looked at you, sipping what was left in John’s abandoned whiskey glass down with a small grimace.

“You seem to have a great deal on your mind, Mr. Shelby,” you offered in conciliation. “Mistakes happen. To the best of us.” 

A moment of quiet descended on the two of you. Tommy was fidgeting with his shirt again in what you realized was a nervous tic. 

“Besides, Mr. Shel-”

“Tommy. Please. Call me Tommy.” He cut you off with an insistence that was so candid it felt almost intimate. Your throat went dry for a moment, but you forced yourself to swallow and nod. 

“Besides, Tommy. I am a woman who can take care of herself.” You reached across the table to place a pointed finger on the bullethole you’d left on its surface. Tommy followed your motion, chuckling at your quip. 

“Yes, you do seem to be… rather skilled at handling yourself.”

“My talents lie primarily in handling others, actually.” Normally, you’d have the wherewithal to deliver a double entendre like that with confidence, but this time the words slipped out before you had a moment to appreciate their subtext. Your flush instantly deepened as Tommy let out a surprised chuckle, his face splitting into what you realized was the first smile you’d seen him wear since you’d met. If it weren’t for the horribly grounding nag of humiliation, you were quite certain the sight would have melted you on the spot.

“Well, skilled handler or not, I owe you an apology. I put you in harm’s way, needlessly, and thrust you into the middle of a dynamic you never should have had to see. It was careless. I make a point of not being careless, Miss y/l/n. I swear to you, it won’t happen again.” 

His voice turned raw  and dark with sincerity, his cheeks reddening with a faint flush. He ran a hand raggedly through his dark hair, a few pieces falling haphazardly loose from his usual coiffure to hang roguishly across his forehead. You had to force yourself not to sigh with a forceful want. 

Rising quickly from your seat, suddenly acutely aware of your own awkwardness and in a rush to leave, you bowed graciously in his direction as you began making your exit. “I am packed and ready to go, sir, at your order. I believe I’ll bring my things to the Garrison down the corner - that’s yours, isn’t it, sir? I’ll wait there for further instruction.” 

“Please, y/l/n, that isn’t necess-”

“I can see you need your priva-”

“I’d much rather you stayed clo-”

“I’m no more than a few hundred steps, Mr. Shelby, surely you don’t need me closer than th-”

“I’d much prefer if you sta-”

“Thank you, sir, for the job and the riveting morning, I’ll be waiting at the Garrison, as I sai-”

“Y/n.”

Tommy had tried to intercept you before getting to the door, but he’d had to settle for a gentle grasp on your forearm. The suddenness of the moment and the intimacy of the gesture caught both of you a bit by surprise. The way he spoke to you - as if some sort of internal need was pressing its way out of his body into the syllables of your name - caused your breath to tangle in your chest. 

“Don’t go.” His voice was so soft you wondered if you’d imagined it. Up this close to him, you could see the facets of blue in his eyes, like cold spring water or an early fall sky. You had the dizzying sensation that you might fall into him if you kept staring at his eyes, so you settled for dropping your eyes to where his hand was still snaked around your forearm, his grasp gentle but demanding. 

“I- Mr. Shelby, I really ought-”

“There’s much to discuss, with your assignment,” he murmured quickly, gently pulling you away from the door. “And it’s Tommy.” You allowed him to lead you back to your seat, part of your mind yelling about why you were trying to scamper away while the other half railed about the impropriety of the moment. Adhering to strict moral codes and boundaries with your clients had always been essential, no matter how heavy-handed your performance while on the job could be. The lines felt dangerously close to blurred at that very moment, but from the treacherous hammering of your heart against your ribs, you were quickly realizing that you were not very much bothered by that realization at all. 

“If you don’t want me to go, Tommy, just ask me to stay.” Another bold statement slipped out before you could grab the words back. This time, however, you found yourself plunging headfirst into the moment rather than balking at it. 

A wicked smile spread across his face as he leaned against the table across from you, crossing his arms across his chest and considering you as if seeing you for the first time. 

“Very well, y/n. Stay, won’t you?” That smoldering quiet voice again, practically making your toes curl then and there. 

“It’s my pleasure, Tommy.”

[slightlyhozy]

“Through the Cold, I’ll Find my Way Back to You” || Chapter One - “Honey, Don’t Feed it, it Will Come Back.”

Characters - Púca! Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Original Female Character

Summary - Maisie Quinn, after inheriting a home in Ireland from her late grandmother, slowly learns a dark past about the land in which it was built on.

Word Count - 2,184

Warnings - Nothing for this chapter other than light animal death!

A/N - SO EXCITED FOR THIS!! I will try to be consistent and write interesting chapters, we will get a real introduction to Andrew in the next chapter, I just wanted to introduce Maisie first and the setting. Please leave thoughts!

If you don’t know, a púca is a monster across European mythology that tends to be a shapeshifter, commonly taking form as a horse, goat, dog, cat, ect. They also take forms of humans which tend to have animalistic traits. They are known to play tricks on humans but never truly harm them. There’s a lot on them, so if you’re interested, I recommend looking into it. I am pretty consistent with the traditional idea of them but I will add my own elements as well. I will also explain any important information or facts if I feel is needed, feel free to ask as well!

“What’re you doing now?” I can hear Elsie snacking on carrots through the phone.

I sigh, hauling another box off of another, using my earbuds, we had been able to call all day despite the time difference. “Right now,” I grunt, setting the box on the ground, moving to search for my box cutter. “I am unpacking everything for the studio…” The room in question was a beautiful conservatory with beautiful glass windows curving upward. Outside, bushes with thorns and small berries could be seen, desperately in need of a trim.

“How different is it over there? I mean, you must’ve noticed something by now.”

“Well,” I huff, stepping back to appreciate the natural light coming into the room. “I live 40 minutes from Wicklow, which is nice…But I do miss the city already; it feels all so stretched out now.” It was terribly ironic of me to complain about Europe being big in comparison to America, but after being raised in downtown Seattle all my life, to be thrown into a village where I have to drive to get my groceries was different.

“We miss you.” Elsie pouted. “Who’s going to bring disgusting vegan dishes to every game night?”

I let out a laugh straight from my chest. “Sorry, babe, you just need to find another pretentious vegetarian then.”

Carefully, I pulled out my easels and canvases I hadn’t used yet. The room was mostly boxes, with only two work benches being built and a random spinny chair thrown out. Making this house look like the ones on Pinterest was going to be a process.

“Say, are you and Lydia going to be able to make up here for Christmas?" I ask, fighting the wooden easel to unfold.

I can hear her hiss, disappointment sinking in. “I… I don’t know, May…It’s just…busy right now. You know, if we can’t this time, we just will come up for our anniversary! We’ve always wanted to go to Ireland.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” My voice came out a bit more upset than I hoped, and I could feel the burning in my eyes, a small sniffle escaping me.

“Maisie..” Elsie said sweetly, making me butt in immediately.

“No! No, it’s ok. I get it. You two are working…married, busy, have all your friends there, it’s fine.” I hated how I reacted—so reminiscent of a child, I didn’t even notice the tears on my face.

“Maisie, I…” She paused, seemingly looking for the right words. “It’s going to be hard for a while, ok? But you’ll make lots of friends! And we will still talk every day, ok? Don't feel bad because you’re upset; it’s okay to be upset.”

“I know, thank you.”

I had moved from Seattle to New Castle, County Wicklow, a few weeks ago. A year before that, my grandma had died, who, other than Elsie, had been my best friend. The loss still hurt, but hopefully something good was coming out of it. In her will, I was left to this beautiful property near Greystones. The house itself was pretty humble but charming and well kept. The garden was very large yet outgrown. After living in the hustle and bustle of a city like Seattle, I needed this, something different, it was like she knew.

My grandma inherited the house from her grandmother, who’s grandmother owned the home before the "famine." My Irish family had left Ireland some time in the 1840s to New York, where we eventually found ourselves in Washington. Thinking back on how hard it had to have been to just be Irish in either country made me a bit proud to find myself back at this house, just like how the women before me wanted.

While modest, the home was well built and was a good distance from the beach, which I had been utilizing for walking Lenny. Since the 80s, our richer part of the family had used it for a vacation home, but as my grandmother got older, the only thing she made sure of the home was keeping it clean, despite the fact it was empty now.

——————————————————————

A while later, still unpacking, now in the kitchen, Lenny began doing circles around the kitchen, licking at my leg. “Shit, you’re out of dog food.” I whispered to myself, leaning down to pat his head. Now that I had actual utensils, pots, and dishes, I could finally move on from adapting to their version of Chinese takeout and cook myself a proper meal.

At the grocery store, I spent a lengthy time deciding which shape of pasta was the most appealing.

In my pasta-induced haze, a voice broke me out of it. “Gosh, you look just like her, all grown up.” I turn my head to see an older woman, around 70 or so, smiling up at me.

“Oh, did you…”

“Know Evelyn? Of course, I met you when you were just a wain.” Heat rose to my cheeks, It was always embarrassing to meet someone who knew you from your family in public. All I could think about was getting out of it. “I saw your…pictures on Facebook, and I mean, it was identical until…”

My hand instinctively went up to my head. “Oh? My hair? Yeah, uh, I mean, at least it’s going to a good place.” A few months ago, I had completely cut off the long hair I had growing down near my waist into a pixie cut; liking how it’s growing out, I plan to keep it.

“Such a shame what happened.” The older woman shook her head. “She was a good woman, ye grandmother.”

Awkwardly, I nodded along.

“Nice to see the property put to use, I hope the stories don’t get to you though.” That caught my attention.

“Stories?”

“Oh? You don’t know? There’s a saying that hundreds of years ago, when your family bought the land, it belonged to a monster…called a púca…Something about it torments the humans who lived on the land in an attempt to scare them off.” A small giggle escaped me; I was no stranger to legends and myths.

“It’s all coincidences though; lots of dead animals are found near the property; I’ve never heard of any real trouble happening.” She smiled sweetly. “God is on your side.” Obviously, being a devote atheist for over 10 years, I had no real fear of any monsters.

“Oh!” The woman beamed, reaching into her purse for a pen and notepad. “Here’s my number if you need anything, love, just a call away.” I watched as her shaky hands scribbled down her home phone, pressing it into my hands. Mary.

“Thank you, Mary; I’ll be sure to get in touch.” I smile as we part, my mind drifting back to the word. Púca… It sounded like puta. I stifled back a laugh.

——————————————————————

Later that night, while Lenny was eating out of his dog bowl in the kitchen, I guarded my large bowl of pasta on the makeshift pillow-blanket couch I had crafted for myself. I sighed softly, checking my phone every minute in case someone wanted to ask me how I was or send me a funny video. Instead, I sat alone in the room, rewatching episodes of Gilmore Girls until there was nothing left in my bowl.

As I washed out my bowl, laying it on the rack, Lenny ran around my legs with a toy, eagerly waiting for me to throw it across the house for him. I smiled fondly down at my boy, the only thing keeping me from losing my mind. “Hey boy, want me to throw it?” I cooed at him, kneeling down to his level, excited by my tone. He wagged his tail and did circles, coming back to me with the small rope. Taking it, I tossed it across the floor, enjoying his nails scraping the tiles as he ran towards it, prompting returning it.

After a few rounds of this, a scratch on the door caught my attention, causing my brow to raise and my anxiety to heighten. It’s fine. I thought to myself, tossing the toy again, watching him retrieve it. It could be anything. Anything? Like a…no. Stop. Wiping my face, I waited for Lenny to come back. As he trotted to me, the scratching was louder, more aggressive.

Setting him off, the small retriever began to bark at the door, his little body jumping back each time. Shushing him, I walked to the window, looking out; there was nothing I could see. Púca. I scoffed, shaking my head; it was just my brain. I took a deep breath, opening the door slowly, unreasonably anxious about what I might see.

As I did, my leg instinctively went to barricade the door, Lenny barking at the small creature in front of me. I didn’t know how to react to the fox in front of me; it stepped back slowly, looking at me, making sad chirp-like sounds. My brows furrowed at the sight. “Ok…” I drifted off; my initial thought was that the animal was hurt, but the way it walked around my patio indicated otherwise. Perhaps whoever took care of the house before fed it, but it hadn’t come before.

Being a natural animal lover and suck up, I close only the glass door, letting me see him still. The fox pranced around still before sitting down in front of the door, clearly with no intention of leaving. Lenny stood, his tail high on alert. “Lenny!” I called out disapprovingly as I heard his familiar low growls. In a small bowl, I scooped some of his food with a few pieces of left-over pasta on top.

Laying the bowl down, I went back inside; even if it wasn’t aggressive, I didn’t want to invade its space, even if I was guilty of interfering with nature in the first place. My eyes drifted over the animal’s fur; it was a warm brown all around, and the ears and feet were black. Under the jaw and belly of the fox, the fur was white, as was the tip of its tail. Mostly, I was looking for signs of mange—anything to indicate it was sick. On cue, it looked up; the way its green eyes flashed at me caused my face to stiffen as I saw the reflection of light in it’s eyes. I looked back; there was no light to cause the eye to shine, and as I looked back, it was gone. The house was silent except for the low growling of my dog and the crunching of the fox’s feast.

——————————————————————

“It was so weird!” I complained to Elsie over the phone, clutching my colorful robe, tea in the other hand.

“Maisie, usually you make amazing choices, but this was dumb.” She said it matter-of-factly.

I shake my head, pacing around the cold floor. “How? It was hungry, Elsie; what was I supposed to do? Let it starve.”

“No, you’re supposed to call the Irish Animal Control, obviously. It could have had rabies.”

“Rabies? I don’t think so.” I chuckled, so sure of myself. “It wasn’t like…foaming at the mouth or aggressive.”

“Maisie, when animals have like…early rabies or something, they act oddly tolerant to humans, was there mange? Was it dehydrated or anything?”

“No… It looked really healthy, actually. It just wanted food; no one got bit, no one got hurt. Elsie, It isn’t that big of a deal; it’s a one-time thing.”

I heard a deep, disappointed sigh escape her. “Maybe you should’ve been raised in the mountains…Look, when you feed animals, they expect that you will give them food; they’ll come back. When I was little, growing in Bend, I accidentally fed a raccoon once, and she brought generations of baby raccoons for years.”

Walking to my porch, wanting to enjoy my tea with the cool air, I open the door. “If it comes back, I just won’t feed it; I learned my lesson, ok.” My eyes immediately drifted down in front of me.

“Maisie?”

“Uh, sorry…” Carefully, I set my tea on the railing. On the concrete, I stared at a small rodent in front of me, absolutely gutted. “There is a mutilated mouse on my porch.” I said breathlessly, always hurt by any dead animals.

“Oh, see! Now it’s rewarding you!” She complained over the phone as I stayed silent.

“Do you think they’re like cats? Like, they’ll bring you dead stuff because they think you stink at hunting or something…” I wasn’t too sure what to do with the body.

“I don’t know,” Elsie said flatly. “What I do know is that you should stop feeding it; just for your and Lenny’s sake, I don’t want you calling me at 3 am because you have to get rabie shots in your ass, ok?” On my side of the phone, I nodded, immediately looking for a reason to hang up. “Oh shit, it’s already so late, ok, Maisie, I love you; I’ll call you later, ok?” Thank god. Is all I could think.

After using a poop bag to toss the animal into the outside bins, I went to pull out my laptop, pulling up my laptop and searching: What is a Púca?

[ladylooch]

Bones - Part 4 [Mack x David]

A/N: *inhales and exhales heavily* Here we go.

I'm sorry...... & good luck. Would love it if you came to talk to me in my asks about this one.

Word Count: 5.1k

Rangers Looking To Make Moves, David Carlson could be one of them.

Insider Sources Hint at Huge Deal Between Stars and Rangers.

Rangers In Search Of Forward Depth: Potential Move Involving David Carlson?

“Mack? Ready in about five?” Her editor, Sonja, asks as she power walks by Mack’s cubicle. 

“Yep.” Mack answers back absentmindedly. She is currently scrolling through her newsfeed, scanning the ballooning elephant of David’s trade rumors. 

Mack tried to talk herself out of looking, but she hasn’t been able to put her phone away. Social media is a dangerous drug. Mack considers herself an expert navigator, but these rumors involve her life outside of 280 characters. The line between reality and rumor has begun to blur. While this happens in her brain, David says nothing. He probably has his reasons, but Mack can’t help but feel betrayed. Why isn’t he talking to her about this? Doesn’t he trust her? This feels like something they should be talking about, even Lucie said as much at breakfast last week.

Mack finishes reading over the comments of speculation. The rumors seem to be trending towards Dallas or Seattle. Mack’s stomach drops out when she realizes how far away both those options are.

“Ready?” Andrew, her colleague asks. Mack nods, putting her phone into her desk and gathering her notebook. The entire walk to the glass enclosed conference room, Mack tries to shed her personal life. Normally, she steps over that threshold and she can become whoever she needs to be to tell a story. Not today.

Today, Mack is quiet, listening to her team members add productive discussion for next quarters issues. Several locations are floated around that should make Mack excited and jumping to go for them. None of them do. Instead, she finds her focus trailing out the window to the building across the street. The world moves around her, but Mack feels stuck in place. Her least favorite thing.

“Mack, how is your hand not up?” Cecilia, another team member, asks. Mack turns back to her.

“What? Sorry?” Mack’s eyes divert to Sonja who looks back at Mack with a neutral face.

“Would you like to volunteer for Ireland?” Sonja repeats.

Mack has been dying to go to Ireland. There is so much to do there, so many different directions she could take her story, and although she has lived in and traveled all over Europe, she hasn’t made it there yet. She is constantly chatting with her coworkers about how she wants to do a story there. But now her hand stays in her lap. How could she leave the country with it being such tumultuous times at home? What if she leaves and David is traded? Coming back to New York and him not being here would slice her open. 

“When?” 

“Three weeks, but you could go as early as Thursday if you want more exploring time.”

“Oh. Um.” She anxiously rubs at her thighs. “I-”

“You could go after Cabo too.” Sonja answers. Cabo is the Allstar trip she has put together for the Rangers with recommendations from her colleagues. Everything is scheduled including a huge house right on the water. It has multiple pools, a hot tub, a private beach, and exclusive access to the Yacht club. 

“I’m gonna have to say no.” She hears herself say. WHAT!?She shakes off her inner demon who wants to launch a ‘just kidding’. Her whole team looks back at her with surprise. “I just need to stick around here right now. If that’s okay? I’ll take something close.” 

“We have that story on hidden gems in America? A lot of them are on the East Coast. Easily day trips.”

“Yeah, that sounds great!” Mack answers with enthusiasm she doesn’t actually feel.

The meeting moves on, but Mack can’t. Did she really just turn down Ireland for New Hampshire? With everyone’s assignments in hand, the meeting ends. Again, Mack is slow to react. Sonja stays behind.

“Are you okay?” She asks when it’s only the two of them. “You are not yourself.”

“I am a bit distracted.” 

“Anything I can help with?”

“Nope. Thanks for letting me stick around though.” Sonja laughs, shrugging.

“Something is definitely up if you’re missing out on Ireland. Let me know how I can support you, okay?”

Mack nods then Sonja power walks off to her next meeting. After swiping her phone from her drawer, Mack avoids sitting down at her cubical and heads straight to the bathroom at the back of the office. She walks into the last stall, letting her back hit the cool tile. Mack’s head finds her hands, awkwardly shoving her nose to the side due to her phone.

What the hell is happening to me?

Her phone starts to vibrate against her face. She pulls back, seeing David’s picture.

“Hello?” She answers quickly.

“Hi, are you home?”

“No.” Worry settles into her voice.

“Oh okay, no worries. I left my wallet at your place. Just figured it out, now Woody is buying me lunch.” He chuckles. 

“Oh, you can go grab it after lunch?”

“Okay, can I wait for you to get home too? Kinda miss ya.” 

“Yeah.” Mack smiles to herself. 

“I’ll take a look at your bathroom sink too. The water pressure is horseshit.”

“I put in a maintenance request.”

“Why? They didn’t fix it right last time? I hope they come up while I’m working on it so I can teach them what to do.”

“Please don’t.” Mack sighs, but she can’t help a little giggle.

“When will you be home?” He asks her. Mack can hear traffic whizzing by him as he presumably walks along a sidewalk.

“Probably a few hours.” She mumbles. 

“Alright. I’ll entertain myself.” He assures her.

When Mack gets home, she realizes that means he cleaned her entire apartment, fixed her sink, and has dinner in the oven. 

“Wow…” Mack trails off as she walks in. She puts her work bag on the counter and smiles at him by the stove. “Thank you. I haven’t had much time to clean.” She murmurs.

“I know.” He nods, toweling off his hands with the one over this shoulder. “I’ve been keeping you at my place a lot. I figure if I created the problem, I should clean it up.” He puckers his lips for her. “Hi.” He greets her after their kiss.

“Hi.” She smiles. It doesn’t quite brighten up her face or reach her eyes, which David takes notice of.

“You okay?” He tilts his head at her.

“Yeah. Tired.” She lies. 

Well, maybe not fully. She is tired, but the things that are keeping her up at night are things she could be discussing with him. Yet, Mack believes that if he wanted to talk to her about any of this, he would have already. She swallows hard, trying to will the anxious energy in her body away. David’s hands on her hips hold her in place when she tries to move around him. 

“I’m not believing that.” He smiles sympathetically. “But if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.” Mack nods. She brushes her hand over his stomach as she walks past. She heads to the fridge to grab a sparkling water from inside. David watches her as she cracks the cap open, taking down a few gulps. She hiccups as she pulls the bottle down from her lips. “Why don’t you go change? That outfit looks great, but you should be comfy with the weather we are having.” He points to the window where sheets of snow fall down. 

“Oh that escalated.” Mack murmurs. She walks to the window, looking out at the droves of swirling snow flakes. She sighs, happy to be in here watching it than still commuting home.

“Mack.” David calls softly to her. She looks over her shoulder at him. “Go.” He encourages her, head tilted towards the hallway. She nods again, doing as he asks and wandering down to her bedroom. 

She knows she is spacey and acting weird. But she isn’t quite sure how to act with him right now. A giant elephant is sitting on her chest and he is behaving like everything is normal. Mack quickly changes into a soft sweatsuit in a sage color. She pulls her hair back into a pony tail, then pulls on new, warm socks with reindeer faces on them that her mom put into her Christmas stocking.  When she walks into the main area again, the TV is playing local news. The sports section is on but it rolls through without any mention of David, other than his goal a few nights ago, the last time the team played.

“It’s weird you’ve had so many days off.” Mack says, leaning against the counter by the bar stools. 

“Yeah. I hate it.” David shakes his head. He pulls the towel off his shoulder, tossing it onto the counter.

“What are we having?”

“Spatchcock chicken and asparagus.”

“Fancy.” Mack smiles at him. He stares back at her. 

“Why are you over there? C’mere.”

“You’re so sensitive today.” Mack rolls her eyes. “If you wanna cuddle just ask. No need to get grumpy that I’m standing across the room from you.” She tries to keep her tone light, but it’s a little snippy.

“Kay, get over here I want to cuddle.” He begrudges. Him and Mack both know she is deflecting. She doesn’t want him looking at her too closely right now.

Mack walks across the kitchen, sliding her arms around his waist. David crushes her into his chest and she can’t help but melt into him. Her shoulders drop, jaw unclenches, and mind quiets completely. The trade rumors dissipate. The worry about what could happen to them floats away. It’s just the two of them holding each other in her kitchen. David’s hand smooths over her pony tail, then begins to rub long strokes up and down her back. Mack turns her nose more into his chest. David tightens his grip on her, then drops his mouth to her hair.

It’s clear they both needed this hug. 

They don’t break away until the timer for the chicken goes off. David pulls it out. As it rests, he roasts the asparagus. Mack puts together a salad with leftover vegetables in the fridge. Then they sit down and eat dinner together with a glass of wine each. When it’s over, Mack and David move through the apartment in sync, cleaning up the main space. As the dishwasher roars to life, Mack flips all the lights off and takes David’s hand to lead him down to her room. 

There, they make love to each other. It’s soft and slow, filled with gentle smooches and quiet moans of pleasure. Afterwards, they tangle their limbs together. David falls asleep first, surprising to Mack. She studies his face as he sleeps, seeing the lines on his face soften in his slumber. With David out, a familiar monster begins to awaken inside of her. 

It comes out in the quiet, darkness of night. It confuses her and brings back all the things that had melted away when she was in David’s arms. A huge lump fills her throat. She rolls over to her other side. Doing so makes David’s hand fall off her hip. A cold shiver rolls through Mack as she buries her nose into the pillow case beneath her face. 

During sex tonight, David had murmured really sweet things to her. He told her he loved her. He told her how beautiful she looked today. He told her how much he missed her while they ran through their different, separate days, that the world gets quiet when she is in his arms. But he didn’t say anything about the rumors that swirl around him in his professional life. Every time he has an opportunity to tell her and he doesn’t, Mack can feel herself retreat a little more. 

Right before he drifted to sleep, David had sleepily murmured that he couldn’t wait until they find a place together. The memory of that now has a single tear dragging down Mack’s cheek.

Because for the first time, she doesn’t feel like her and David are on the same page. He is already thinking about them moving in together. She’s never thought of that. She’s never thought of anything beyond the current day with him. Now he sees a future for them that Mack isn’t sure she wants this way. A future outside of New York isn’t of interest to her. If David isn’t in New York, there is nothing tying them together anymore, therefore if he leaves New York nothing ties him to her anymore. 

Meanwhile, she has stupidly turned down assignments to stay with him. Her brain is consumed of thoughts of him even when she is away. Panic begins to thread through Mack’s body. She’s too in love with him. This is all way more than she signed up for. She never wanted this. He’s changed her entire life and she went along with it.

How could she have let this happen? How could she have let it go this far?

Mack rolls to her back, staring up at the ceiling. Tears race from the corners of her eyes, falling into her ear canals. This has gone too far. She can’t do this with him. With perfect timing as always, her monster starts to whisper:

You’ll never be able to keep him. You can’t pretend all the time to be good enough for him anyway.

Mack shudders at the words that slice deep into her soul. She wipes her tears then wills herself to sleep. 

In the morning, this will all look different. She is sure of that. 

Long before the sunlight streams into her room, David awakens her to make love again. He is above her, dragging his cock through her core with soft strokes that set her on fire. When she shudders through her orgasm, he fills her up with his own, then collapses into the bed next to her. As his breathing evens out, he brings her into his side, holding her close to him.

“I’m excited about our future.” David murmurs, fingers getting slower. “We’re gonna give Lucie and Connor a run for their money.” He kisses the top of her head. 

Guilt swirls through Mack’s body. 

David continues planning for a future with her while she is choking in fight or flight. 

A tear slides silently down her cheek. David’s soft breathing behind her tells her he has fallen back to sleep. 

Mack blinks more tears down her cheeks, bottom lip trembling.

He deserves so much better than this. So much better than her. Those words are no longer the dark monster from before. Instead they’re just the truth.

And she’s going to make sure he is free to find what he deserves.

In his arms, attempting to memorize his touch, she starts to make her plans. The Ireland assignment comes to mind.

On Thursday, she’ll go there. Do what she was always going to do.

Run.

Or fly… like the humming bird he compares her to.

He won’t be surprised. He’ll be hurt, sure. But he’ll move on. He has to.

She tells herself this is all for his freedom. 

But deep down, the monster reminders her its for her own.

- - - & - - -

(David)

On Thursday, David looks down at the burger he ordered, mouth salivating at the big, half pound patty dripping cheese and bacon grease. Now this is a damn burger. One he might even find in his home state. Props to the place for sticking to the owner’s midwestern roots. He assess the sandwich, deciding two hands on this one would probably be best.

“That looks fire.” Connor murmurs. He opted for a French Dip sandwich and fries. 

Between the two of them, there isn’t a green vegetable in sight. 

“I’m going to crush this.” David confirms. He unrolls his silverware set, putting the napkin in his lap just in case some drippage misses his plate. Connor does the same.

“I’m so excited to have beef. Haven’t been able to have it at home since…” Connor trails off. David raises an eyebrow. Connor grins then shakes his head. “I can’t tell ya.”

“Slut.”

“Can’t get enough of her, man. Don’t act like you don’t get it.” 

David smirks. He does get it. In fact, he almost cancelled on this lunch so he could stay home and bury himself between Mack’s thighs again and again. But Mack said she had to get some work done, so here he is for the second time in two days eating lunch with his D partner. Mack and David had transitioned over to his place last night to meet up with the Woods. He loves that she is comfortable working from his place when he isn’t there.

David swipes a tater tot through some ketchup then pops it into his mouth. He hopes by the time he gets home Mack is doing better. She was weird when he left this morning, weird last night too. He is glad they have some time together before he goes on the road this weekend. Mack has an assignment in New York that is keeping her home with him during that time. All he wants to do is go to the rink, order glutinous take out and fuck. 

Connor hulks down a huge bite of his sandwich as David digs into his burger. He needs his napkin immediately, swiping it across his covered lips. 

“So how you doing with everything, man?” 

David swallows.

“What do you mean?” He asks, then goes in for a second bite.

“With the rumors.”

“Oh. I’m not listen.” David dismisses. “I can’t worry about that shit and play. It’s too hard.”

“Yeah, I get it. I was the same. Where are you at with your contract?”

“Doug said we would talk about it after the season. My agent doesn’t think here is any concern. It’s not like I’m gonna ask for the bank.”

“No, but get what you’re worth. I need you around here with me. Can’t handle the Hischier girls by myself.” David chuckles. Silence fills the space between them as they both take a few more bites. “How is Mack taking it all?”

David pauses mid-chew. He shakes his head slightly, then answers when he swallows.

“We haven’t talked about it since none of it is true.”

Connor looks up quickly from his fries. They hover in his pile of ketchup as alarming blue eyes look across the table at David.

“Yeah, but you warned her and everything right?”

David’s tongue runs along his back molars as an awkward silence fills the table.

No, he didn’t.

“I mean, no? She knows that shit out there isn’t true.”

“Sure, but you told her that right?” Connor clarifies, pointing at the center of David’s chest.

David stares back at his defensive partner. Slowly, Connor’s mouth falls into a cringe.

“That is not the person to leave in the dark on those rumors, man.”

As if Connor’s words are the final puzzle, it all clicks for David. The way Mack was this morning. How she turned away from him immediately after sex last night. How quiet she has been, almost to the point of calculated. His heart hammers to a stop in his chest then a big intake of air raises his huge shoulders.

“Oh FUCK!” He yells. 

She’s running.

He knows it and the awareness cools his blood, sending a chill down his spine.

“What?” Connor asks, concern etching his brows together.

“She wanted me to go to lunch with you so she can run. I’ve gotta go, Woody.”

In a calmer moment, David would pull out his wallet and throw down a few bills. But a glance at his phone tells him he doesn’t have time. He’s been gone for over a half hour. She might already be packed and he’s gotta stop her. His long, athletic stride carries him the five blocks back to his place. He rushes by Philip without a greeting, then pounds the up button on the elevator.

“Come on!” He shouts when it takes too long. He eyes the stairwell, but his heart might explode if he runs up all those flights of stairs. The doors open and he almost barrels over a couple and their kid as he rushes in. “Sorry.” He mumbles, pushing the button for his floor, then the ‘close door’ one repeatedly until it does. He bounces on his feet, heart pounding in his ears as he attempts to catch his breath. The doors open, he flies into the hallway, not seeing her. He tries the door on his place and finds it open. 

Fuck, he hopes she is still here. 

“Mack!” He yells. 

No answer. 

His sneakers slap hard against the wood floors as he heads down the hallway. He can see her pony tail floating in the doorway. Instant relief flowing through him.

She’s still here. 

His relief is short lived when he walks forward and sees her packed suitcase on the bed.

- - - & - - -

(Mack)

Mack is zipping up her suitcase when she hears the apartment door open. Her gaze snaps to the doorway. David’s hurried foot steps rush down the hallway. She frowns, then goes back to stuffing her phone charger into the side pocket. This is not ideal, but she planned for it. She is ready for this interaction. Ready for him to beg her to stay here with him and prepared with an army of reasons why they are never going to work, now or in the future. 

“Mack, stop packing.” He calls to her from the hallway. Mack freezes. Of course he already knows. She keeps going, putting the suitcase on its wheels. They meet at the door of his bedroom. “Babe, I’m not going anywhere. I talked to management. None of this is real. I’m not being traded.” Disappointment has Mack sighing internally. She wishes he had told her this days ago.

“Okay.” Mack shrugs, keeping a blank face. David frowns. His eyes move to the right, looking over his room. Every single thing of hers is gone, down to the collection of hair ties on her side of the bed. “I’m heading out of town for awhile on a long assignment. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” David chews on the inside of his cheek, searching her face. He shakes his head slightly, looking confused and hurt.

“Mack, what are you doing?”

“I’m packing.” She swallows hard, hating the way her voice wobbles slightly.

“You’re going out of town. Why do you need your house slippers?” He motions to where they used to sit by the door.

“Because I want them at my place.”

“So, you going out of town means you aren’t going to keep anything here either?”

“I don’t see the point to that.” Mack shrugs. “Like I said, I am heading out on a long assignment. I’m going to be gone for awhile. I’m not sure when I will be back, so I’m taking everything with me.” 

“What?” He questions. “Where are you going?”

“Ireland.”

“Since when? You just told me two nights ago you were here in New York through the Allstar break, and suddenly you’re leaving for an undetermined amount of time?”

“Yeah. That’s this business.” She says flatly, unemotional. David shakes his head.

“What is happening?” He whispers, getting closer to her. He reaches out for her cheek and Mack immediately pulls away. “Is this about a few nights ago? I didn’t mean-“

“No. It’s not. But that was a reminder to me how… different we are. And I think we should be realistic about our shelf life.” David’s eyebrows furrow together. That hurt him. Mack looks away, not wanting to see the sting on his face.

This is inevitable, the monster reminds herself. She’s just pulling the plug before they go back to hating each other and make this harder for everyone around them.

“Shelf life?” He sighs heavily, stepping aside for her to pass by him. He is hot on her heels into the main area of his place. “What the fuck, Mack? We love each other.” 

“For now.” She shrugs her shoulder, going to her purse and double checking she grabbed everything she needed from the main area. She finds her water bottle and phone where she put them a few minutes ago. She’s officially packed. Mack grabs the key to his place, trying to ignoring the light up, corn key chain and the way it burns her skin in her hand. “I can give you your key back.”

“Stop.” David snaps, enclosing her hand with his. He grabs the keys out of her hands. He shakes his head, looking at her, panic all over his face. “Just…” He licks his lips, looking out at the city. “Talk to me.” 

“I am. You don’t like what I’m saying.” She retorts. 

“I don’t understand what you’re saying. We literally had an incredible night and I make a comment about how I’m excited to move in together someday, and you’re running now? What are you afraid of?” He emphasizes the last line at her, pausing with his hands out to the side. The Iowa keychain in his hand is blinking red, green and blue. Mack stares at it, pursing her lips. A huge lump swells in her throat. She tries to swallow but can’t. 

“I just don’t think this is going to work.”

“What?”

“You and me. So I think we should.” She moves her hands apart. “Go in different directions.” 

Stunned, David straightens. He blinks, trying to absorb the blow of her words. He runs the hand without her keys in it through his hair then blows out a heavy sigh. His hand roughly rubs at the stubble from where he shaved his beard off yesterday, leaving only his signature mustache. Mack blinks off the slight hitch of his breathing on the inhale. 

“Okay.” He nods his head, taking another deep breath. 

David stands on the other side of the island, green eyes intense with emotion as he pins her to the cabinets behind her. He shakes his head then stands to his full height. The keys in his hand slide across the counter to her. They skid to a stop next to her right hand. His arms cross over his chest.

“Okay, I’ll see you when you get back then.”

“David.” Mack rolls her eyes, throwing the keys into her purse.

Why won’t he let her go easily? How can’t he see what she sees? How different they are? How this started with them hating each other and grew into this thing that was never supposed to happen? How she isn’t meant for this WAG, farm wife, American lifestyle that he wants? She needs to be free- wings wide open so she can breathe. Not turning down assignments and worrying about moving to Dallas.

David doesn’t say anything else to her, just stares her down. Mack can tell he is holding everything he can inside. For her benefit or his, she can’t tell.

“I don’t know when I’m coming back.” She reiterates.

“Okay.” He is eerily calm now.

“So we should go separate ways.” 

“No.” He says clearly and assertively. “You wanna run from me, baby? Then just run. Go. But when you’re done with that, and you come back home, I’ll still be here, loving you. You can move your shit back in then too.”

Mack swallows, looping her arm through the handles of her bags, looking down at them because she can’t look at him. 

“It’s for the best.” She repeats. 

“Mack. I love you. So much.” He whispers, words rough and callused like his hands from working the farm his whole life. The words sound painful as if they rip up his body when he says them. Nothing like the ones he whispered to her last night when they made love. 

It almost gets her to stay.

She hesitates for three more seconds, but her mind screams go. So she does.

“Goodbye, David.” 

He puts his head in his hands as she turns to walk out of the kitchen. She can hear his heavy, uncontrolled breathing behind her until the closed door cuts them off. 

Mack doesn’t breathe the entire ride down the elevator. A numbness comes over her as she tries to convince herself to keep moving forward. She thought she would feel better after doing this. That she was holding them back, him mostly, and cutting the tie would give her back that feeling of freedom she craves. The freedom that he deserves too.

All she feels now is dead inside.

Mack walks out of the building, strutting across the sidewalk with her hand high in the air to hail down a cab. She isn’t sure how her feet are moving so fluidly with how violently she shakes.

“Goodnight, Ms. Hischier.” Philip calls cheerfully behind her.

“Bye!” She calls, waving over her shoulder. She can’t turn around. If she turns around, her feet are going to go right back through that door. 

And she just can’t.

This is not who she is.

She isn’t a WAG. She isn’t a farmer’s girlfriend. She isn’t anywhere close to wife material or a forever kind of girl.

She is a runner. A lone wolf. Who should have taken that elevator home a year ago instead of jumping into bed with her brother-in-law’s teammate. 

The words continue on like a self-deprecating mantra she can’t silence. 

David deserves better. He deserves a wife. Someone who wants to settle into that small country life with him, or in Dallas, and stands next to him through the storm. Not someone who can only see this working if all the cards are stacked in their favor.

Mack, I love you. So much. His voice rings through her brain.

“Fuck.” Mack sobs, shakily trying to breathe in the back of the cab as it pulls away from him. 

Over her heart, her fingers clutch his number on her neck. She pulls, snapping the necklace off her body.

“Ow.” She whispers to herself as her head falls back to the head rest.

If this was what she needed to do, then why does it hurt this damn bad?

Read more Mack and David here.

[brainstirfry]

im making a thread of things that happened in the wolverine's canonical lifespan. Cause they had movie that was supposed to be his ORIGIN story, but it gave 5 minutes to one experience in his childhood and 45 cumulative seconds to like THREE major wars he was in. So just to highlight how rich this character COULD be with culture across actual CENTURIES here's some shit that Logan Howlett lived through since he was born in the year of our lord, 1832. (By the way, as of earlier this month, that makes him 192 years old cause I think some people just wanted him to have the same birthday as hugh jackman which is great and I support it but I also can't find any evidence that it's actually true.) the last note I will make is that 1832 is neither the date supported by the comics and I've heard that it's not even true for Origins, but it's the most commonly cited and I think it will all be okay. it will all be okay in time. Oh yeah, and spoilers for x men origins Wolverine.

- For historical background, 1801 in America saw the election of Thomas Jefferson, who was the THIRD ever president of the US, so just for context the revolutionary war was just under 30 years prior and the events of Hamilton the musical will shake out within 3 years.

- Anyways in Canada after the American revolution the British split the territory in half, upper and lower Canada and all the British loyalists in the North American colonies went up there. 20 years after the split was the war of 1812.

- Washington Irving was alive during what would be Logan's parents? Time? which I mention because I think Beast would quote him and it would send Logan into a flashback that's the only reason

FROM HERE OUT Logan was probably alive for these things:

- Charles Darwin visits the Galápagos Islands in 1835 but it's hard to say how that really fits in with there being 'evolved' mutants but it's an interesting thought.

- Telegraphs were being widely used by the 1840s. Cool

- there's the Great famine in Ireland late 1840s which kicks off a lot of immigration to the US, in time for the gold rush starting around 1848. Also during this period Edgar Allan Poe hits national fame

- Ok finally getting to the First fucking thing we even see in Origins after the initial opening scene. This is being shown WHILE credits are rolling: the civil war. (1861-65) (Idk if him and Victor are still living in Canada at this point or if they've emigrated to the US after being on the run(?) but it doesn't really matter since Canadians did fight in the war regardless, mostly on the union side, obviously. By this time, they're both certifiably adults. Also Abraham Lincoln is assassinated.

- the late 1870s had graham bell's telephone and Edison's lightbulb. And wax cylinders for music on phonographs. Battle of Little Bighorn in Montana in the summer of 1876

- 1886 I wrote "statue of liberty put up. damn."

- 1890's: Wounded Knee, Carnegie hall OPENS, Sherlock Holmes first appears in a newspaper. kinda thought that was interesting. 93 there's a depression in America that foreshadows the Great Depression, then oh this one is important,

- 1894 has the first motorcycle production in the US! wow.. later Logan will buy his favorite '48 panhead "new off the line"

[blackhill2245]

You jokingly call billie eilish

Crack fick ngl, billie x platonic fem reader

I sighed in boredom. It was the middle of the summer holidays, and I had shit to do.

I've done all my homework, who the fuck gives homework over the summer? Anyway I've finished all that, and I've finished all my personal projects and I've painted and re did my room... twice!.

So I sat there scrolling on Instagram falling asleep, despite it being 8pm. I see all my friends out having fun on holiday and I'm here in shitty ireland, like how dull can my life be?

I groan about to throw my phone across the room, again, when I get an idea. I giggle to myself and lay on my belly, fliping through my contacts, deciding to ring celebrities and see what happens. I click on Taylor Swift. I don't like her music, but like I don't care. Anyway, I try calling her, but it instantly declines, so I try again, and I get an automated response saying I reached my limit. I groan, flopping back on my back and decide to see if anybody posted on their story in the two seconds I was away.

I rush past all the boring shit before seeing billie eilish posting about her dog shark. Suddenly, I had a light bulb moment, and I pressed on her profile and pressed DMs, I pressed call and waited.

Just as the call was going to end, it answered, "i pause for a moment shocked before belting."

"BE MY, BE MY BABY! MY ONE AND ONLY BABY!" I stop singing, looking at the phone wide-eyed and red in the face. I looked like a mess, having just woken up my hair everywhere. My makeup was ruined because I didn't take it off before I napped.

"What the fuck" I hear a man say as billie laughs turning red. "Well?" I'm not gonna lie I was sitting myself.

"Yo! What the fuck!" She laughs rolling onto her side and sitting up showing her brother Fineas in the background who looked confused.

I take a deep breath about to start singing again before billie interrupts me, thankfully.

"Yo, whyd you call?" She asks, recovering from her laughing fit she moves to sit next to Fineas.

"Girl, I was bored," I whine, not moving from my awkward position, I was sitting up, but my face was smashed into my pillow.

"You're gonna get your makeup all over your pillow," fineas notes, I shrug. "This shit doesn't come off, it's like.... water proof, " I try to think, but I just give up in the end.

"Hey, where you from?" I hear some commotion on the other end as billie leaves speaking as she walks away coming back with her spider, or teranchula, same thing.

"Ireland," I roll my eyes, "get me away from hear." I drag out the sentence rolling off the bed, showing how much I hated it here. "Didn't expect you to answer." I sigh, head crooked arms splayed out legs looking like a dead spider.

She laughs to herself, handing her spider to fineas, who looked like he wanted to throw the thing across the room. "I don't usually, but what's the harm?" I look off screen "hello little man" I coo sitting up my dog rocky cokes into my room, I hear billie asking who I'm talking too so I flip the camera to show him off.

We ended up talking for an hour before I had to go for dinner, yes I have dinner at 9 Sue me.

I was sad to end the call, but the billie said, "Sad you have to leave, girl, what your um oh wait here." I raised a brow, not understanding what she meant, but then I get a notification that BIlly_boy2901 started following you, "hey is that you?" I laugh at the name, "yea can't have people knowing about my secret account you know?" I Humm "smart" I sigh saying goodnight before we ended the call, for some reason I wasn't really in shock which I thought I would be, she seemed so normal I don't know I thought she would be different but whatever.

That night, I had dinner and went to bed. I talked to billie in the morning despite it being so late in America that she stayed up to talk. I smiled to myself, thinking about how sweet she was.

Girls, my first fiction, ahhahaha anyway, hope you enjoy ❤️

[apocalypseornaw]

Don't Blame Me (Pt 3/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean confronts Crowley who recounts exactly what did happen to you, sparing no details to Dean's horror. You look for a way to ward yourself from Dean finding you.

Dean was half in shock when you blinked out. You were alive? When he looked at Crowley he knew the anger he felt showed in his eyes because the demon took a step back even before Dean grabbed him, slamming him back into a wall. "BRING HER BACK"

Crowley shook his head slowly "I didn't send her a way and I try not to summon her. She gets upset, it causes a mess. She killed ten demons the first time I summoned her and let's just say I like keeping her as calm as possible"

Dean shook his head before pulling the demon blade up to hold the point against Crowleys neck "Last time I saw her she was getting on a plane. What the fuck did you do to her?" Crowley laughed sharply "What did I do? Squirrel you should really ask what did you do?"

Dean's grip loosened at Crowleys words "What do you mean what Dean did?" Sam asked as Crowley untangled himself from Dean's grasp. Crowleys eyes were on Dean when he said "She made a deal. I didn't go after her soul. It was already in hell"

Dean shook his head "She wouldn't. Y/N knows the risks" Crowley shrugged "and yet she did for you" "for me?" Dean asked and Crowley sighed "This is dramatic. Her soul already went to hell so contract fulfilled. She's gonna try to kill me but.." before Dean or Sam could ask Crowley touched two fingers to Dean's forehead. Flashes of an Okami, pain of claws ripping into his chest and the heartbreaking sound of your sobs tore through Dean's head.

"She couldn't face losing you so she made a deal. Be glad I took over when I did. Lucifer and his flunkies were having fun with your girl" "She wouldn't agree to be a demon" Sam argued but Crowley shrugged "A little over four hundred years of torture. A hundred of those were under Lucifer and Zachariah. She's stronger than most of the souls in hell but the things they did to her.." he trailed off and Dean could feel his jaw clench with anger even before Crowley met his eyes "No angelic interference for her, guess she wasn't important enough. I needed an attack dog. Someone who if they were spotted working at my side the threats were taken seriously"

"So you've been using her?" Sam asked. Crowley scoffed "I gave her freedom from the racks. I put her body back together so she'd have it. I made sure to keep her off the angels radar. I've gotten her to kill a few dozen demons but nothing she wouldn't have done in life. How the hell have I been using her? Would you two prefer me to have left her to an eternity of whatever being decided to plunge a blade or other things into her?"

Dean swallowed down the bile in his throat at Crowleys words and the images that accompanied them to ask "Why didn't she let me know?"  and Crowley laughed again "Did you not see that little performance? She was afraid you'd hate her so she stayed off the beaten path" "Then why did you bring her here tonight?" Sam demanded.

"She's wrong for lack of better terms. She shouldn't care like she still does, shouldn't have so much left of her human personality. Her soul was stronger than I gave it credit for. If she stays a demon she's gonna e a threat to my throne" Dean swung without thinking and connected a hard punch to Crowleys jaw "You've kept her from me for years, YEARS. and now you're only telling me so she can't dethrone you? The only reason I'm not killing you is so you can help me find her"

Ireland, Scotland, Australia, New Zealand and South America. It was hard to find a coven that would play well with a demon, let alone one marked by the king of hell as his right hand woman but you finally did. 

You sat in the middle of the circle, watching the woman paint sigils onto your skin. Once she was done she rejoined the circle. You sat silently as they chanted, the sigil glowing then absorbing into your skin. You looked at the head witch "No one can summon me now?" She nodded "Your boss can probably still get a feed on where you are but no one can summon you" you paid her the fee and thanked the rest of the coven before blinking out. You were back in Washington state, almost at the Canadian line. 

-------------

You had a cabin there, somewhere you stayed when Crowley didn't need you at his side. Somewhere you were able to ignore everything that had happened. You weren't right as a demon. They weren't supposed to feel, weren't supposed to care yet here you were. 

------------

You washed your face then looked at yourself in the mirror letting your eyes slip to black. Even as a demon you were held together by paperclips and rubber bands. The memory of the look on Dean's face flashed through your head and you smashed the mirror. What the hell were you supposed to do now?

@lacilou @suckitands33 @lyarr24 @decadentstrangernacho @nix-rose @irgendwas122 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @tas898 @starkleila

[daughterofcain-67]

𝙾𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙾𝚞𝚛 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎 : 𝙴𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

(Soldier Boy x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: just a conclusion of this story where Y/N finally get their happy ending and Ben gets the life he’s always wanted 🩷

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Ben being self conscious of future parental abilities, Y/N being reassuring, the smallest amount of angst if you squint, but mostly just pure fluff 🥰

One Year Later

You hadn’t dreamed of returning to the states. You and Ben have had such a blast exploring the world together, seeing places you had only wished you could have seen before. You had no idea how beautiful other countries were.

You and Ben had visited France, Italy, Greece, Scotland, Ireland, Switzerland, Costa Rica, Peru, Thailand, and New Zealand. The two of you had seen so much over the past year and it had been the best experience you’ve shared in your life, and the best part that you were able to share it with Ben with no one chasing either of you. Neither of you had to be on constant guard for Vought or The Boys, neither of you were on any watch lists because both of you were presumed dead in America. So that gave you and Ben the freedom to roam wherever you wished.

It genuinely seemed to help Ben too. He didn’t have as many flare ups and there weren’t any other explosions. The nightmares he had seemed to subside at least a little. You truly thought that this adventure was helping Ben, that retirement looked good on Ben.

For the past couple of days, you and Ben had gone to Canada after hitching a ride on some cargo plane - your main form of transportation at this point. The two of you were staying in some cabin in the mountains. It must’ve been some sort of guest home to someone because there was still furniture in the cabin despite there. Not being any sign of anyone staying in the building for a while.

Ben was asleep and you were currently laying in bed beside him, staring at the ceiling. You knew it I would only be a matter of time before you and Ben would be on the move again. Maybe a different part of Canada, maybe a small area so the two of you could finally have that fresh start. Maybe the two of you could end up having a cabin like this of your own. After all, you still had some money left - before you and Ben left the country you went back to your bunker where you had a safe full of savings. You were glad you never touched it because well, it would now give you and Ben a start for wherever you both decided to permanently retire.

Suddenly, you could feel movement from beside you and when you looked down you saw Ben’s eyes shut tight. You could tell he was grinding his teeth and when you looked down, you noticed he was clutching down on the bedsheets tight, so tight that his knuckles looked white.

Another nightmare.

You moved to where you were laying on your side and you placed your hand on Ben’s chest as you tried to shake him awake.

“Ben? Ben wake up! Come back to me, Babe.” You urged and you shook him a little harder and his eyes finally shot open.

You let out a breath of relief before you lifted a hand and gently caressed his cheek, causing him to look at you and his gaze softened.

“I woke you up, didn’t I?” He said before he looked away from you but you shook your head and kissed his cheek.

“I’ve been up for a while. You didn’t wake me.” You promised sweetly as you wrapped your arms around his torso as best as you could as you laid down again.

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s just the same stuff… Little less intense than before. Not by much.” He told you and you frowned softly, knowing he was dreaming about his time in Russia then his time with Mallory.

You snuggled closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder, only to feel him move and he kissed the crown of your head.

“Less intense is a good thing… right?” You asked softly and you felt him take a hold of one of your hands before he flipped it upward.

“It is. And they getting fewer and further between.” He reminded you and pressed his lips against your palm, causing you to smile a little.

“Well… why don’t we find something to do to get your mind off of it?” You asked and he shifted his head so he could look at you.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well I was thinking…” You trailed off, a little hesitant to bring it up because you weren’t sure how he was going to take the suggestion.

“Y/N, you know I’m not good at these guessing games. I’m not a mind reader.” He told you and you bit your lip a little. Then you moved your hands away to sit up while you formulated your thoughts.

“I was just thinking that… well, we’re close enough to the states without crossing the border again. Vought, Homelander, they all think we’re dead so they aren’t a threat and they haven’t been one for the past twelve months. Do you think it would be possible to finally… I don’t know… settle down maybe?”

Ben heard the delicate tone in your voice and he could tell that this must’ve been on your mind for a while. It was comforting to know that you were beginning to think the same thing that he was. The former hero slowly sat up with a little groan before he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his lap before he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“How long have you been thinking about it?” He asked gently.

“Not long honestly… right before we cane to Canada actually. Middle of the flight on that cargo plane.” He heard you confess and he smiled a little, wondering what got you started on thinking about it on a flight of all places.

“So… where is you’re thinking of settling down?”

“I dont know.. I like this cabin, maybe we can build one a little bit bigger though. Just incase.” He heard you say and Ben lifted a brow.

“Just incase of..?”

“Oh you never know. Maybe we can make some friends here in time and maybe we could have little gatherings and what not.” You said a little too quickly, making Ben a little skeptical. But he decided to shrug it off for now.

“You really think people are going to want to he friends with former American supes turned fugitives?” Ben asked and you smiled.

“No, but I’m sure they’ll want to be friends with Ben and Y/N who are just a couple that moved into the community.” He heard you say and he grinned a little before he looked down at your hand, admiring the band on your finger.

He recalled how happy the two of you were when you both had your simple wedding. Nothing too extravagant but you both ended up getting your rings a little later but it was perfect. You had the little ceremony in New Zealand, bought the rings in France, and had your honeymoon everywhere else. All of this was definitely a unique experience for him but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

“So we won’t be telling them about… well everything.” He said and you nodded.

“The point of a fresh start is to leave everything behind, remember? A clean slate, one where we aren’t heroes and we can just enjoy retirement.” You reminded and he nodded a little.

“Well… I suppose I like the idea of a cabin here. It’s peaceful and quiet.” He said as he thought about it.

“Why don’t we go into town today and see if we can find somebody to talk to about the cabin and everything?” He suggested and he watched as your eyes lit up with the idea.

“Okay! I’ll go get ready.”

Ben felt you start to move away from his touch and he smiled at how happy you seemed to be. Although for the past week or so you had seemed happier than usual. He couldn’t help but wonder why but he was assuming that it was simply because you were thinking of staying here in Canada. It must’ve been something simple.

As he watched you scramble around the room to get dressed, you turned around and looked at him and you smiled beautifully at him.

“Are you gonna get dressed or am I gonna have to drag you out of bed?” You asked him, causing Ben to chuckle to himself before he finally sat up and tossed his legs over the side of the bed before he started to stand up.

“I’m coming, I’m coming. You’re much too energetic for me this morning.”

“I told you, I was already awake before you woke up.” You reminded him before you finished getting dressed.

“Yeah I guess that’s true.” Ben agreed before you spoke again.

“By the way, we should go to the grocery store while we’re going to town. I need to pick up a couple of things.”

You and Ben had been in town for the past couple of hours and you’ve already looked into a couple of people to discuss buying property. Price checking never hurt anyone after all.

But when you and Ben both found a price you could work with the both of you made the arrangements. They gave you an estimate of when the cabin would be done so you and Ben would have some sort of time frame. You just had to hope the owners of the cabin you and Ben had been crashing in wouldn’t be making an appearance anytime soon while your new home was being built. So you two were on the way to the store.

While you were at the store, you and Ben grabbed some groceries. Naturally Ben grabbed a liquor of his choosing, not much to your surprise.but as the two of you roamed around the store you noticed a couple with the woman carrying a stroller. You happened to glance and you saw the most beautiful little girl sleeping with a stuffed blue dog from some cartoon. It warmed your heart and filled you with serotonin, but you tore your gaze away and started to think.

“Do you think you and Homelander would have had a good bond if you were there to raise him?” You asked as you started to step towards the baby clothes.

Ben glanced toward you and realized you were looking at some of those onesies, the tiniest clothes he had ever seen really but he wondered why you were bringing all of this up. Then he started to grow suspicious and wondered if he should wait about asking about his suspicions.

“I’d hope so. I didn’t have any kind of bond with my old man, so I’d hope that I’d do something different and be better for Homelander. But obviously Vought had other plans.” He said.

“What about Ryan?” You asked and you gazed up at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Well if you had the chance, if you chose not to listen to Butcher… would you have stayed with Vought and helped raise Ryan?” You questioned.

“I really don’t know. I don’t think that option would have been open anyway even if I wanted it to be. Vought got rid of me once because they didn’t want me to know about Homelander. I doubt they would have let me stay just because I’m the runt’s grandfather.” Ben said and put his hands in the pockets of the jeans he wore.

“I think it would have gone well. If you had the chance anyway. I’m sure that you could have raised Homelander well and had that father-son sort of bond.” You insisted but you could tell Ben wasn’t really convinced.

“Look at the way things turned out with my team. No wonder they left me to rot with the Ivans without a second thought. If that’s how I am as a leader of a team then what the hell kind of a father would I be?”

Your heart sank at his words and you reached out before you took one of his hands. Ben intertwined your fingers out of habit and you spoke again while giving his hand a soft squeeze, “You’d be the kind of father that learned from the mistakes of his past. The kind of father that would be able to help your child get past similar issues if the time ever came up.”

He didn’t exactly respond but he looked at some of the clothes you were looking at. Then you placed a hand on his arm.

“Ben, the fact that you’re think about all of this now and the fact that you don’t want to end up like your father only proves that you’re stepping in the right direction.” You encouraged. He nodded hut you could tell that he wasn’t fully convinced. There were times when Ben was sort of a hard man to persuade. You figured this would be one of those things that just needed some time for him to adjust to.

“On a different note… what do you think we should have for dinner tonight?” You changed the topic, to which Ben let out a hum.

“Well… what about burgers or something? That seems like it would be pretty simple.” Ben suggested, though you couldn’t help but feel nauseated by the amount of grease that came with eating a burger. Ben must’ve taken notice.

“Why the cringe? I thought you liked burgers.” He said.

“I do, normally. Lately I think the grease from certain things has been messing with me.” You admitted, causing Ben to tilt his head a little. You noticed the concerned expression on his face.

“Is it something you need to go to a doctor for? Maybe we should find one while we’re in town.” You shook your head.

“No, I don’t think it’s bad enough to need a doctor. I think it’s one of those things that will be resolving itself soon.”

“How can you be so sure about that? What if it’s something serious?”

“Ben? Trust me, I’ll be okay. It takes a lot more than a little sickness from grease to kill me.” You promised.

Ben grunted with skepticism and reluctance but he wouldn’t fight you on this. Not unless it would get worse and he needed to drag you to a doctor himself. But he couldn’t help but wonder when things changed. He cleared his throat as he tried to think of some other suggestion.

“Well there’s always spaghetti, something easy. Maybe we could grill some chicken or something.” Ben said.

“That could work. Why don’t you pick up the ingredients for that? I have something I have to look into.” You told Ben before you leaned up and kissed his cheek. Before Ben could say anything, you were already gone.

Ben watched you leave, checking you out before he shifted his attention and went to get the groceries.

He thought about the pieces of the conversation where you started asking him about Homelander. He wasn’t sure how he should feel about his son anymore, even in your little hypothetical world where Vought as out of the equation. Would he be well equipped? He knew you were trying to be encouraging about his parental abilities, but he still felt like he wouldn’t be a good father, even if he wanted to be.

However, what Ben was wondering the most was what brought that conversation on in the first place? Sure he supposed neither of you had talked about Homelander within the past year so he supposed you had the right to be curious about it. But he wondered why you wondered about it now. Maybe he’d ask you about it on the way home.

Or rather the place you would be calling home until your cabin was built.

He couldn’t wait until the both of you had a cabin though. He was ready to finally have a permanent little spot to call home. Ready to have a special place where you both could reside for the rest of your days, a fortress of solitude, a place where you could finally be alone and unbothered by anyone. It most of everything he wanted.

You found yourself at the vitamin section and you picked up what you needed. You definitely had some news to share with Ben, but you weren’t exactly sure how to tell him. You knew that Ben was growing suspicious of you though, and you were glad he didn’t exactly question you further about the problems you had with grease. It wasn’t your fault the smell of it made you queasy now that you were pregnant!

After you grabbed the prenatal vitamins, you walked over to the register and bought them yourself separately and double bagged the bottles before you started looking for Ben again somewhere in the grocery section.

You wished he believed in himself a little more. Sure he had some issues with his leadership, but you hoped that once he would find out about his kid he would start becoming a little more confident in his abilities.

You found Ben looking at different pasta sauces as if he couldn’t decide on which one he wanted to pick. You smiled to yourself before walking over and you slipped your hand into his. He looked down at you and your heart still seemed to flutter at the sight of his smile but then he looked at the shelves once more.

“Can’t decide if we should get normal spaghetti sauce or if we should get Alfredo.” He admitted.

“Well, why don’t we get both? Whatever we decide to use tonight we can use the other one sometime during the week.” You suggested.

“I think that’ll be fine.” Ben agreed and he grabbed both and put them in the basket but then he noticed the bag in your hand.

“You went and bought something already?” He asked.

“I did. But it’s just some personal stuff that I didn’t want you to wait on me for.” You said, hoping he’d buy the excuse. Luckily for you, he didn’t pry.

“If you say so.” He seemed a little short and you could tell he wasn’t sure if he should necessarily trust your behavior. You didn’t blame him for the skepticism but you still wanted to figure out the right way to tell him the news, you wanted to make sure he would take things well which was why you brought up Homelander.

By the time you both got back to the cabin, you decided you’d go and take a shower before you’d get a head start on dinner for you and your husband. Ben stayed in the kitchen to put the other groceries away.

As Ben was putting groceries away, however, he noticed one of the bags were double-bagged. Growing curious, Ben decided to peek inside and when he did he found something he hadn’t expected to find.

“What the hell?” He muttered to himself as he picked up a bottle of vitamins and when the label, he was shocked.

“Prenatal vitamins?” He read the label out loud and he looked at what else was in the bag you bought.

Inside the bag, he found a some pens and some stickers that looked like they belonged in some sort of scrap book. There was a book that was sort of a week by week guide of what to expect when you had a baby on the way. Ben heard the bathroom door upstairs and he knew you were coming. He ran a hand through his hair before he put everything down on the table.

Ben turned around when the footsteps stopped and he found you there, clutching the towel you must’ve been drying your hair with and you were dressed in one of his shirts and some leggings. The look on your face was nearly unreadable. From it looked like, Ben thought it was some sort of fear, but what did you have to be afraid of?

“So… I guess I forgot to bring the bag upstairs with me.” You finally said and he watched you walk over, draping the towel over one of the chairs as you started picking up the items Ben put on the table.

“How long have you known and decided not to tell me?” Ben asked.

“Ben, I didn’t decide not to tell you. I’m not shitty enough of a person to do that to you.” You began, feeling kind of offended that he would phrase it like that.

“I know this is something you’ve always wanted and we’ve talked about it before. I wanted to figure out just how to tell you, wanted it to be, you know, at least special. But I wanted to know if you still even wanted kids after you found out about Homelander and Ryan.” You explained.

“Which was why you were asking about it at the store…” Ben finally realized.

“Yeah… that about sums it up.” You sighed and you sat down in one of the chairs in the dining room and you looked back up at him, “Are you upset with me?”

“Upset?” Ben questioned, unsure why you’d ask a silly question.

“No, Sweetheart. I’m not.” He finally answered and he reached out and moved the chair you were sitting in before he knelt down in front of you, “I’m honestly thrilled. I’m still not quite sure about how my parenting skills will be but I think I’ll have some time to figure it out.”

You smiled when Ben took one of your hands and gave it a comforting squeeze, “I’m kind of disappointed that you didn’t get to tell me in the way you wanted to.”

You laughed a little, “Well, it’s not like you can forget about it now for me to find a way to tell you. So I guess this kind of saves me some brain work.”

Then it was Ben’s turn to let out a little chuckle. Afterwards he stood up and you snickered when you heard the way his knees popped. You looked at him and he pulled you up by the hand before he wrapped your arms around you in a sweet embrace. You smiled as you let your head rest on his chest. You heard the way his heart seemed to beat faster than normal, making you wonder if it was excitement, nerves, or some other emotion he was feeling.

“You still haven’t told me how long you’ve known.” He commented before he planted a kiss on the top of your head, you hummed softly.

“I don’t know… maybe a week and a half now?” You said in more of a questioning tone since you couldn’t remember exactly.

“You mean before we hitched a ride on the cargo plane?!” Ben said and he pulled away from you, looking at you as if you’d gone mad, “Are you crazy? We could have stayed in the last country we were in before we came here. Isn’t that dangerous for you to be flying in the condition you’re in?”

Somehow you knew Ben would get protective the moment he found out you were expecting. Although you couldn’t complain about it too much. It was sweet in its own way.

“It would have been dangerous if I were further along. I know I’m less than a month in, at lest I think so. So it couldn’t have been that bad.” You tried to reassure and you watched Ben’s jaw tighten, displeased with the response.

“We need to find a doctor and they’ll tell us how far along you are. It’s a good thing you suggested we settle here this morning.” He said and you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Well I wasn’t exactly going to suggest we go somewhere else anytime soon.” You admitted with a slight chuckle trying to lighten the mood. Ben exhaled a little before he leaned down and tried to kiss you on the forehead, but you pulled away.

“Nope. I want one on the mouth.” You pointed your finger to your lips.

When Ben leaned down to grant your little request, you ducked down and got out of his grasp. Ben gave you a look of confusion and you had a mischievous look on your face. “Gonna have to catch me first, Soldier Boy.”

Ben watched you turn on your heel and you scurried out of the front door into the cabin. He wasn’t sure where the sudden playfulness came from but he thought it was cute that you thought you could slip away and get away with it. He gave you a few seconds of a head start before he ran after you.

He continued to run until he caught sight of you running through the trees. He smiled to himself and he picked up the pace a bit and he watched as you stopped at a creek. You looked to either side as if you were trying to figure out which way to turn but by the time you stepped foot in one direction, Ben turned you around to face him and he had a smirk on his face.

“Caught you.” He smirked and you giggled before you cupped his cheek just as he leaned down and captured your lips with his.

You smiled against his mouth and you felt one of his hands roam down just to settle at the small of your back as he pulled you closer, as if he didn’t want you to run off again. When you pulled away, his forehead was on top of yours and your thumb caressed the top of his cheek.

“Why don’t we stay here for a while? It’s a pretty day and we’ve never sat here at the creek since we’ve been here.” You suggested softly and Ben smiled and rolled his eyes.

“You’re something else, aren’t you?” He said.

“What?”

“Nothing, Sweetheart. Just quit running off like that. Especially right now. Or there may be consequences.” He said, making one of your brows arch upward.

“What kind of consequences?” You smirked.

“The kind of consequences where I make sure you won’t be able to run anywhere.” Ben said with a smirk, causing your cheeks to turn a deep shade of red. Ben chuckled deeply at your embarrassment but then he held your hand and he walked with you a little closer to the creek.

You were right. It was a beautiful day and Ben sort of wished the two of you had come out here sooner. He sat down in one spot of grass before he pulled you down into his lap. You sat between his legs and Ben had his arms wrapped around your smaller figure. One of his hands were on your lower abdominal area while his chin rested on your shoulder.

His mind started swirling again as he kept you in his arms. He couldn’t believe this was real. What if he wasn’t good enough to be a father? What if all of his worries he talked with you about earlier would come true? He knew he would never lay a hand on his kid like he did his teammates, you would definitely find a way to kill him if he ever did that. But Ben knew his father never his him but he was still an abusive fuck. He didn’t want to turn into a monster like that.

He’d never forgive himself if he did.

You could feel the way Ben was starting to tense up and you placed your hand on the one he had over your stomach. You knew he was worried about what would happen, you knew he had so many doubts in his mind, but you hoped that the further along you would get, the more confident he would be in himself.

“For the record, Ben…”

“Hmm?”

“You won’t turn into your father…”

Ben lifted his chin off your shoulder before he turned and looked at you. You turned your upper body to face him and you saw the look on his face, knowing he had so much self doubt in his mind.

“You’re going to be an amazing father without any of his influence. Our baby won’t end up anything like Homelander because they’ll have two parents who love them dearly. They won’t ever need for anything, and they’ll love you and admire you for everything you are just as I admire you for everything you are.”

Ben’s gaze softened, as did his demeanor, and he lifted a hand to caress your face, “And they’ll love you and admire you for the amazing woman you’ve always been. They’ll be lucky to have you as a mother.”

You hummed softly before you leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips once more.

When you pulled away, you leaned against his chest before you looked outward into the sky, admiring the sunset and the way it seemed to bounce off the water from the creek. You and Ben had a new journey ahead of you and while you and Ben may be from an older era, you knew this journey came just at the right time.

Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @nancymcl @jackles010378 @hobby27 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @prettyinplaid94 @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @capricxnt @k-slla @david-tennant-obsessed-blog @deangirl96 @mimaria420 @ashdoctor @muhahaha303 @angelbabyyy99

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART ONE: ONE NIGHT STAND

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut, Age Gap

Notes/Background:

As mentioned before, I have decided to rewrite this story which is a story I have become invested in. I made some changes to the background, location and interactions between my characters so that I can follow a story outline and whilst the reader in this fic has a very specific racial and social economic background, I decided to use reference to “you” and “Y/N”. I hope no one is put off by this.

The fic plays in 2022 and, in midst of going through separation, Cillian has decided to take six months off from acting in order to volunteer at the Gaiety Theatre’s School of Acting, located in the heart of Dublin.

The following characters are relevant to this story:

Cillian (46)

In this fictional piece, Cillian is 46.  Just six weeks ago, he moved out of his material home following yet another argument with his wife Danielle who, just like him, works in the industry. She is an actress.

He now rents an apartment in Dublin while going through the initial stages of divorce and, whilst he is struggling to adapt to his new life, he knows that it had been coming. Their marriage had been in distress for the past two years, ever since Danielle cheated on him with another actor while on set.

Danielle (42)

Danielle is Cillian’s soon to be ex-wife. She, too, is struggling to adapt to the new living arrangements but has already gone on a few dates in order to get her mind of the separation.

Danielle will play an important part later in this fic.

Dermont (50)

Just like in real life, Dermont is Cillian’s friend who has been trying hard to get Cillian to go out and let his hair down.

Dermont too is married, with children, and will play an important part throughout this fic.

Nina (13)

Nina is Cillian’s daughter who he sees occasionally now that his wife makes it difficult for him to gain access to his children. Nina, however, has her own mind and does what she wants, causing some trouble for both of her parents.

Nina’s biggest passion is dancing and she attends an elite program at the Dublin Academy of Dance. The lessons take place twice per week, after school.

Nina also has a close relationship with Cillian’s mother, aka Grandma Murphy.

Max (16)

Max is Cillian’s son and spends a little more time with his father than his mother would like. At 16, he too does his own thing and, just like his father, he enjoys acting.

Kit (32)

Kit is Cillian’s personal assistant and will play a bigger part in this fic later on.

James (24)

James is your on and off boyfriend throughout this fic and attends acting classes with you.

Lorraine (23)

Lorraine is one of your friends. Lorraine also attends acting class with you.

Emma (23)

Emma is your best friend. You share a small studio apartment with her which, essentially, is all you can afford. Emma moved to Ireland with you in 2019 after you both received an international scholarship through an UNESCO project. Both of you migrated to America as children, without parents, and went through the so-called foster system there. You never found a real home back in the US and Emma was always the one who kept you in check and, whilst you were dedicated to your work, you did some things in your teens of which you were not exactly proud of.

You (22)

After having been in and out of foster care in the US, in 2019, you moved to Ireland through a scholarship program.

You are interested in literature, theatre, acting, music and, in particular, dancing.

You are an incredible dancer and teach ballet and contemporary dance to students at the Dublin Dance Academy after spending most of your days at the Gaiety Theatre’s School of Acting, learning how to act on stage.

You are in your final year of studies and your dream is to act, on stage, in front of a large audience. Unfortunatly for you though, you are rather self-conscious about your past and sometimes struggle with confidence.

What you do not know however is that your life is about too change following a night out in Temple Bar with your best friend. You will leave your past behind and become more confident with the help of someone who you never thought you could connect with.

CILLIAN’S POV

‘Common Cill! You need to get out of the house and have some fun. Let’s go for a pint. Or two…’ Dermont said to his friend as they were sitting on the couch, talking about how Cillian’s wife had caused some problems again with the children’s school. Cillian was frustrated and the exhaustion was written on his face.

He felt depressed and upset that it had come to this as, for years, he tried hard to stay with Danielle for his children’s sake. Eventually though, he gave up and this meant that he could see his children less often now, only three out of seven days per week, unless, of course, Danielle changed her plans.

After twenty years, the love was gone and so was the passion. Danielle was no longer loyal to him and Cillian had to revaluate his life at the age of 46. The two of them fought a lot and this affected the children who, just last week, said to Cillian’s mother that they were glad for the fact that their parents had finally called it quits.

Ever since their separation though, Cillian acted like hermit and stayed at home. He watched TV or listened to music, not feeling the need to go out until, eventually, his best friend had enough of it.

“I don’t know pal. I am not in the mood” was what Cillian said while Dermont barged into his friend bedroom and opened up the cabinet, looking for something for Cillian to wear.

“Too bad. We are going out. I am not taking no for an answer” Dermont responded before telling his mate to go and shower which, eventually, he did.

YOUR POV

It was Thursday evening, around 6 o’clock when you sat in the university library and packed up your books and laptop before making your way to Temple Bar. As usual, you were late and your friend Emma was probably already waiting for you.

Ten minutes later, she indeed greeted you at the door of the overcrowded pub, telling you that you were being impolite for keeping her waiting.

“I am sorry. I got caught up reading. Drama School is back next week and I need to be prepared” you said, apologising to your friend before giving her a tight hug.

“Nah, don’t apologise. I was just teasing you. I couldn’t possibly be angry at you” she smiled in response and, the truth was that, instead of being angry, she felt truly sorry for you.

You had recently broken up with James again and the break up itself was a difficult one. You were on and off, breaking up continuously, but this time you were certain not to go back to him. He had cheated on you after you had been with him for three years and the fact that he could do something so cruel broke you.

In the end, however, you stopped drowning yourself in self-pity and when Emma called you up, suggesting a girls’ night out, you agreed to join in.

Unfortunatly for you, however, your other friends, Nora and Lorraine did not come. They both attended Drama School with you and decided to see a play at the Gaiety, which was something you couldn’t afford to do. Thus, it was just you and Emma and Emma was certainly the odd one out between the four of you.

She was not in the same class with you and the others but, instead, studied fashion design worked as a bartender in Chelsea. She had dropped out of Drama School last year and was funky, outgoing and somewhat weird.

“So, are you ready to get tanked?” Emma asked as you simply stood there when you walked in, still pondering about your failed relationship.

“I rarely ever drink Emma” you reminded her and, the truth was, that you didn’t like to go out to bars and pubs either. You much rather sat at home with a good book in your hand while listening to some music.

“Well, too bad! Go and find a seat for us. We are going to get drunk and bitch about everything we hate about men, and believe me, I have a long list" Emma joked before disappearing into the crowd in order to fetch you a drink.

Just as Emma walked off, you looked around to see if you could find a table inside the crowded room but, to your disappointment, most of them were already taken.

It was a long weekend so the fact that most people were out drinking did not really surprise you and, when Emma returned with drinks in her hand, you could not help but laugh. She had purchased the most ridiculous looking cocktails, featuring both, a lot of cream on top and a Hawaiian style umbrella sticking out to the side. They were sickening to say the least but, unbeknownst to you, each of them had at least three shots of tequila.

“What is this? It looks and tastes awful” you then told her after you took a first sip from the large glass before, suddenly, you felt a slight nudge on your back which, ultimately, caused you to tumble forward and slosh your drink all over your friend’s shirt.

"Fuck” you spat as the man behind you who clearly ignored you even after running into you, so you turned around and scowled him.  

‘An apology would have been nice’ you said with frustration as Emma was drying off her shirt.

‘An apology?’ he asked with a thick Irish accent before telling you that it was you who stepped back and pushed into him and his friend.

“I did not!” you said before you swallowed nervously. “You ran into me” you then pointed out again as your eyes were drawn to the stranger’s eyes. They were several shades of blue, just like the deep of the ocean. You had a thing for men with big and beautiful eyes and despite your annoyance with this stranger, you had to admit that he was rather attractive.

He was Irish for sure. His accent was strong and his skin was pale, featuring many tiny little freckles. He had slightly greying hair which were not too short and not too long either. They looked a little messy but this style was exactly what suited him.

He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and a pair of jeans that looked a little worn around the knee area. His boots, too, were worn but probably expensive, made from brown leather and, around his right wrist, he wore a basic watch and on the other, he featured a leather band.

"Well, okay. I am sorry, alright? I don’t need an argument right now” the stranger said while you assessed him and it was obvious to both of your friend that you had caught each other’s attention. This handsome stranger was looking at you just as you were looking at him and his friend decided to take the lead.  

“Yes, my friend here can be a little clumsy at times” he said to you before shaking your hand and introducing himself.

“I am Dermont by the way and I am less clumsy than my friend here who, as an apology, will buy you a drink” he joked, causing the blue-eyed stranger to furrow his eyebrows.

“I will?” he asked Dermont who gave him a quick a but reassuring nod.  

“A drink would be nice. I am Y/N and this Emma” you said before shaking both of men’s hands and then asking for the other man’s name.

“And you? What’s your name?” you wanted to know.

“Cillian” the stranger responded and, after you told him that it was nice to meet him, Dermont prompted you both to follow them to the bar, which was when Cillian pulled his friend aside, asking him in a whisper about what he was doing.

“Helping you out with the ladies, mate. The one wearing the dress has caught your attention and there is no reason for you not to pursue her now that you are single again” Dermont whispered back while Cillian quickly shook his head.

“There is! She is in her mid-twenties at the most which is too fucking young” Cillian pointed out but Dermont was determined to make it happen anyway.

“Yeah, and? You don’t have to marry her. Just have some fun. Let loose. Take her home. I don’t know” Dermont said before making an interesting observation. “Despite, she clearly has no idea who you are so this is a huge bonus” Dermont told him before turning to you again and asking you what you wanted to drink.

“Gin and tonic would be nice” you said shyly before thanking him for the gesture.

“And your friend? What will she have?” he then asked for politeness sake but Emma was still not impressed by what happened.

“Nothing. I think I am leaving. I am all sticky and wet” Emma said angrily to the man who was looking at her somewhat dumbfounded now, which is when you spoke up and smiled.

‘Listen. She has had a bad day so, would you give us a minute please?’ you asked, not wanting the men to leave just yet.

You had your eyes on the clumsy blue-eyed stranger and, albeit the fact that he was clearly at least twice your age, he was cute, handsome and intriguing.  

“I got to go home Y/N. I smell of Tequila now. It is gross. I am sorry, but you are coming with me, right? I cannot leave you here by yourself” Emma told you quietly but you shook your head.

“Would you mind if I stayed? These guys look harmless and the clumsy one is kind of cute” you asked before glancing over to the stranger again, causing Emma to furrow her eyebrows.

“He is twice your age” she pointed out.

“And your point is?” you chuckled before you gave her a cheeky smile.

“Okay. He is attractive. I give you that. But you need to be careful, alright? He might be married or weird. Or possibly both” Emma lectured you and you raised a very important question, which clearly outlined your intentions to her.

“He doesn’t wear a wedding ring so I doubt that he is married” you pointed out before looking over towards the blue eyed stranger again and, immediately, your eyes met his. “So let’s say that he isn’t married or weird, would it be wrong if I was to hook up with him just for one night? I never had a one night stand before but he’s really hot and I really need to get over James. This could really help, you know…” you said, causing Emma to laugh.

‘It’s not wrong to have a one night stand silly. You are young and should let your hair down once in a while. James has been holding you back so I would say, go for it…” she told you, giving you the reassurance you needed.

“Now go and get him tiger. And text me if you are not coming home so that I know that you are safe” Emma then said and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her.

“Yes mum” you joked before giving her a hug and disappearing into the crowd again to follow the stranger.

***

After a minute or so, you approached Cillian again. He was holding a gin and tonic in one hand and a pint of Guinness in the other. His somewhat random friend had disappeared and, without questioning him about it, you took your drink from his hand and walked over towards a quieter area with him.

“I am sorry about your friend” Cillian then said carefully while you smiled at him and leaned back against the wall.

“It’s fine, really” you told him almost shyly as he glanced at you with those sparkling blue eyes. They were large and magical and blended in nicely with his pale freckled skin.

“Where did your friend go?” you then asked while secretly hoping that he too had taken off.

“His wife called. He had to leave and told me to apologise to you for not saying goodbye” Cillian explained and you quickly realised that this was a set up.

“Really? His wife called, huh?” you thus teased, causing Cillian to laugh.

“Yes. That’s what he said. Although, to tell you the truth, I think that he was trying to set us up so, if you prefer, we can just leave it at that and go our separate ways” Cillian then said with great honesty and your jaw dropped.

“I knew it” you then laughed in response while trying hard to look surprised.  

“How so?” Cillian asked.

“You aren’t a good actor. I didn’t believe you for a second when you said that his wife called. He told you to say that, didn’t he?” you chuckled causing the handsome stranger to furrow his eyebrows.

“I am not a good actor?” he asked. He was surprised by your statement but now knew for sure that you really had no idea who he was.

“No” you said, earning you a chuckle.

“Well, I suppose I wasn’t trying to put on an act” Cillian pointed out with laughter.

“Okay. Fair enough” you responded.  “So, are you married?” you then asked, wanting to make sure.

“Why would my friend be trying to set me up with you if I was married?” Cillian asked surprised, chuckling again.

“I don’t know, but these things happen, so I want to be cautious. It just doesn’t make sense for someone like you to be single, you know…” you stammered before realising that you must have sounded like an idiot right now.

“Someone like me?” Cillian chuckled before answering your question. “I separated from wife six weeks ago, so I am single but, to be clear, I am also not interested in dating right now” he then pointed out with more seriousness and you smiled.

“Good. Because neither am I” you explained and, after a while, you got talking about more entertaining topics like books, music and even art.

Just like you, he was obsessed with literature and theatrics. He loved music and music was what you talked about the most. You learned that he had children and you told him about having migrated to Ireland from the US.

Talking with Cillian was fun. He seemed educated and very smart. He was funny too and, after about three drinks and endless conversations, you ended up asking about his age. You were curious and learned that he was in his mid-forties but, when he asked you about your age, you lied.

“I am 29” you said, making yourself a whooping six years older than you actually were.

“Really? 29?” he asked over yet another drink and you nodded shyly.

“Yes. Why?” you asked and he smiled.

“You look much younger” he admitted and you bit your tongue. You knew that lying was wrong but you also knew that, if you had told him your real age, the night may have ended right then and there. There was no way he would have been interested in you if he knew that you were half his age.

In the end, he believed you and, within the next half an hour or so, you were both up to your fourth drink and this is when Cillian glanced into your eyes and saw some uncertainty laced with a heavy dosing of lust.

But lust, you saw in his eyes as well and it did not take him long to close the last inch of air in between you and felt you jump at the contact.

“Do you want to go somewhere else? Maybe somewhere a little quieter?” he then asked after almost two hours of talking and drinking, which, really, turned out to be exactly what you were waiting for. He had never done this before but also knew that he had nothing to lose. He wanted to take his chances with you and knew that it would, possibly, lead to more.

“Yes. Sure. Where do you want to go?” you then stammered as his eyes just dropped to your mouth again before, slowly, he leaned in, his lips just millimetres from yours now without touching them yet.

“Where do you live?” he then asked carefully, almost whispering the words into your ear and thereby testing the waters, but you knew that you could not have taken him home with you as you were living with your friend in a tiny studio apartment.

“Darndale, but my place is being renovated at the moment” you lied again. “How about you?” you then asked and he smiled.

“Not far from here” he told you with a hint of reluctance as well and, when you suggested for him to show you his place, he nodded carefully.

“Okay. Yes. Let’s get a taxi?” he asked and, once again you smiled and gave him a reluctant nod.

***

After you got into the taxi and Cillian gave the taxi-driver his address, it did not take you both very long before you finally started to make out.

The sexual tension that had built up between you was unreal and, just as you sat there, next to this stranger, like a shy little girl, his hand came to caress your leg as if this was the most normal thing to do.

He had a certainty about him which both intrigued and aroused you and, just as his fingers traced over your skin, he could feel you trembling.

As your tainted breath became shaky, Cillian leaned towards you, this time to taste the remnants of the liquor from your lips, and you let him.

His actions caught you by surprise but you gave into the kiss nonetheless. It felt good, incredible, and passionate.

After kissing your lips for a few minutes in the back of the taxi, Cillian then leaned down further and helped himself to the delicate skin along your neck. He kissed and licked and sucked at the sensitive skin until you were writhing and making impatient little sounds from your throat. He then buried one hand into your hair and attacked your mouth again, capturing those rosy red lips with his ow.

His tongue soon demanded entrance and you were in no position to refuse. Your hands grasped at Cillian’s body as you gave into the onslaught of his tongue, darting in and out, teasing and caressing until both of you were breathless. Cillian’s mouth tasted sweet and yet bitter, the liquor still lingering on his lips. It tasted so good and you wanted more.

You were moaning freely against his mouth, your hands taking on a life of their own to roam across his back which is when Cillian broke the kiss and flirting time was over.

The taxi pulled up in front of his apartment building and you stepped out together and walked through the lobby.

***

The building itself was much fancier than what you were used to and, after less than a minute, you arrived at the elevator and Cillian pushed the button. Your heart was beating fast in your chest now and, just as you waited, you turned towards Cillian and pressed your lips against his again.

Without reluctance, he deepened the kiss and began to gently probe your mouth with his tongue. His hands roamed your body, caressing and kneading and you pulled yourself up against him feeling the length of him against your leg.

It was almost like the beast within you both had been unleashed at the same time and, when the elevator's bell chimed and the doors opened wide, you both stumbled into his penthouse.

His hands were on you in an instant again and the erotic sensation of this man’s touch alone sent a quiver through your body. He was so much older than you and, yet, you kissed and caressed each other like two teenagers in heat.

“I never…you know” you stammered nervously as Cillian’s hands were everywhere as you somehow managed to find your way in to his bedroom within mere seconds.  

“You never had a one-night stand?” he asked just as you found yourself being pinned against the wall in the heat of the moment.

“No. Never” you responded, knowing very well that this was all this was going to be. A one-night stand. Nothing more and nothing less. That was what you both wanted and he made sure for you to know that before he took you upstairs.

“Do you want to stop?” he thus asked gently but you shook your head. You did not want him to stop. He made you feel good. Too good.

‘No’ you whispered eventually as you moaned with lust when his lips connected with yours again and you swung your arms around his neck, tugging on his curls.

You kissed and then caressed each other while you began to grind yourself against him, feeling the length of his hard cock through the denim of the jeans.

“Fuck. You are something else. Simply stunning” Cillian then whispered into your ear after nibbling on it gently, eliciting another loud moan from you.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this kind of thing before?” he then teased and you shyly shook your head.

‘No, but I want to. I want you to fuck me. Right now” you whispered, running your hand over his crotch and it was becoming way too difficult for Cillian to control himself now. He wanted you as much as you wanted him.

‘Good. Because I am unable to hold back much longer’ he then said before spinning you around, which is when, finally, you got a good look at where you would be experiencing your first time with anyone but James.

To your surprise, Cillian’s bed looked like something out of a magazine with a white comforter and an abundance of pillows resting against a large wooden headboard that arched backward toward the wall. Lamps on either side of the bed cast a warm yellow light around the room, making the entire space feel soft.

Just as you looked at it, the blue-eyed stranger came up behind you, kissing your neck and whispering into your ear again “let me take this off for you”

The man’s hands then went to the back of your dress where he released the zipper and, just as he did, you pushed the fabric to the floor and stepped out of it before kicking off your shoes. You were now undressed, wearing nothing more than a pair of black lace panties, and then, when you turned around to face this much older man again, his eyes went straight to your naked breasts.

‘Fuck, they are perfect’ he said almost inadvertently as he caressed your firm flesh before, finally, pulling each of your nipples slightly.

‘They aren’t too bad’ you giggled as his hands massaged your firm numbs before they wandered deeper and deeper until he made contact with your lace covered core.

“Lay down for me” he then ordered as your breathing increased with the sudden flash of heat radiating from both of your bodies. You could feel his eyes on your breasts still as you complied with his request and climbed on the bed.

“As you wish” you stammered nervously, hoping that he wouldn’t realise how inexperienced you truly were. You had only had sex with one man before and you most certainly were not in your late twenties, which is what you had told him earlier that night.

As you laid there though, you watched as the handsome stranger began to undress himself as well and, when his shirt finally came off, you could see his pale freckled skin which aroused you. His chest was covered with a patch of hair, some brown and some grey, matching the grey streaks of hair on his head. Then, there was also some hair which traced downwards from his belly button and you could not wait to see more.

‘You are fucking perfect’ the stranger told you as you looked at him with lust and hunger and, just as you thought you couldn’t get any more excited, he pushed down his briefs and revealed his raging erection to you which was glistening with precum already.

It stood up proudly and you realised that, unlike you, he was comfortable with being completely naked like this. He was bigger than James which, too, aroused you but also made you blush and panic a little.

You starred, and starred and still starred at his cock when he finally joined you on bed with a sleek smile on his face.

As soon as he landed on bed with you, his lips connected with yours again but, this time around, there was some more force and urgency to his kisses. He demanded you to part your lips and you complied, allowing him to slide his tongue into your mouth just far enough to touch yours.

He flicked it up and down quickly while pulling himself further into your core which, ultimately, pushed you onto the back of the bed.

Despite the heat and passion, the stranger remained rather calm and you loved that and hated it at the same time. You could not help but want to speed him up as you could already feel your heart pounding rapidly and vibrating through your chest. But he clearly had experience and knew not to rush it even despite the fact that you were both slightly drunk.

“Your lips are perfect. So soft and sweet. I could kiss you all night” the man then marvelled and you smiled as no one had ever kissed you like this, not even your boyfriend.

“You should. You are incredibly good at this” you stammered and then you shivered again as you felt his fingertips squeeze your hips.

“At what?” he asked just after you sucked his bottom lip between yours and grazed your teeth as deep as they would naturally go. You felt his jaw clench. In fact, you felt every muscle in his body tensing and then tensing more.

“At kissing me. In fact, I don’t think anyone else has ever kissed me like this before” you said shyly as your ankles were now locked behind the stranger’s knees and you didn’t remember consciously placing them there but, then again, you didn’t remember consciously doing anything since the moment you kissed him.

“That’s good. Then, perhaps I should kiss more than just your lips, shouldn’t I?” he then teased and, immediately, your hand pulled him by the nape of his neck further, right back against your mouth.

“You should kiss every part of my body” you confirmed and the stranger groaned against your lips with pleasure before moving his hands from your hips down your thigh tusking as much pressure as he could manage before he spread his fingers out as he journeyed just as ferociously back up.

“Every part you say?” he then teased as you tilted your head back, closing your eyes and using your sense of touch to the full while inhaling his scent.

“Yes, every part” you moaned and he looked up, seeing your soft closed eyes and plump lips in ecstasy and his view trailed down your neck and between your breasts.

“Very well then” he said as his hands slid around your back and he gripped the small of your back with his powerful fingertips.

The stranger soon felt you shiver and let his tongue slid up from the centre of your collar bone to the centre of your throat where he felt you suddenly gulp.

He sure was good at this, good at teasing you and he knew it too as he had a slight chuckle at your reaction to his touch and kisses.

You moaned loudly as he kissed you everywhere, which was something that sent shivers down his spine and yours. At same time, in between his assault on your tender skin, you smiled against his, trailing kisses over his throat and to his ear.

Lips and hands were everywhere now and his hands pressed firmly against your skin as he explored your body. He started at your thighs and pressed into your tight belly. He completely encased your rib cage with his large hands before lightening his touch as he began to caress your breasts.

‘Please don’t stop’ you moaned as, finally, the stranger hoovered over you and you were laying under him.

He then made it priority to grab your face with both hands and hold you in the longest, hottest kiss he knew you would ever have. He kissed down your neck and you used your strength in your arms and legs to press yourself up into his mouth until, finally, he let his tongue flick over one of your nipples.

‘God yes’ you moaned.  It was too much for you to try and keep your hands from his body and you fought to keep your hands from trembling at the least as you streamed your fingers through his hair and made a request by tugging him further into your breast. He complied willingly, for a moment but was soon lost over your long flat stomach that he could feel quiver under his tongue. It was unlike anything else you had ever felt before and he hasn’t even gotten to your sex yet.

"What are you going to do to me?” you moaned and this stranger well and truly adored how nervous you were and how much you wanted him at the same time. You were a quivering mess and his lips and fingers did not relent.

‘Well, hopefully, I am going to make you cum” he mused, making you realise that, indeed, he knew very well what he was doing to you and your body, playing it like an instrument and tuning it to his will.

‘With, uhm…what…?” you huffed out as you could barely focus your eyes as you looked down at him just as his hands melted into your panties and lifted you up by the ass in order to take them off.

“I want to taste you and make you cum with my mouth” he clarified as his face was so close to your aching core and you gave up trying to watch him when your vision blurred from the throbbing heat wave through your body.

When this handsome stranger finally pulled down your lace panties, you heard a high pitched squeal that, a moment later, you realised came from your clenched teeth.

‘Fuck, you are perfect everywhere, aren’t you?’ he then said with a low and dark voice while glancing at your aching pussy before, with the width of his shoulders, he pushed your knees apart, opening you wide for him as he kissed you just above your core, causing you to moan.  

‘You are so wet already. I can see it’ he then said and you shuddered at his hot breath against your pussy and soon felt his fingers join in, running gently over your soaking mound.  

“Oh god. Please” you then, finally, shouted, a gasp and yell all wrapped up together, as his wet tongue lapped at you, long steady strokes over your entire wetness while he held your lips open with two of his fingers.

‘That feels so good’ you moaned as his tongue circled around your clit, flicking at it, then returned lower to slide inside you as far as he could go, then back up again to your clit.

Your hips involuntarily started pushing up against him and it wasn’t long until the feeling of him pleasing you like this became too much for you to bear. Trying to hold back, you shifted and squirmed beneath him and an involuntary scream escaped you.

‘It’s too much” you moaned as he used his hands to spread you open even wider while circling your clit. No one had ever pleasured you like this before and you bucked, writhing against him as his tongue ran over it.

“I can’t, you need to stop, oh my god please” you fought with yourself, denying yourself what you craved the most. You could cum right then and there, explode against Cillian’s lips with desire, but it felt too heavenly and too intense. You did not know if you could withstand it, feeling overstimulated already.

“You can” the stranger whispered while pressing two of his fingers inside of you, pushing them right up against your g-spot as he watched you arch your back and cling on to the sheets.

“Please. I can’t…” you screamed out, moaning, your legs quivering.

“Yes, you can” he repeated with a sly smile before continuing his onslaught on your sex.

‘Fuck, oh god” you screamed again, still trying to fight your own release which felt too intense and too surreal.

“Give in to it and let me give you what you need" the stranger then told you and, with that, you knew that he wouldn’t stop until you came. So, you decided to let go for him even if that meant that you may make a fool of yourself.

As his mouth returned to your mound and his tongue kept on at you, you felt yourself climbing and climbing and climbing towards the unfamiliar feeling. And, when he finally sucked your clit into his mouth again, you were sent over the edge.

‘Fuck! Oh god! Cillian’ you moaned as your orgasm washed over you and your legs began to quiver. Your body shook uncontrollably and your hands came flying down, getting caught in the stranger’s hair, pressing him against your sex before pulling him away again.

“Enough! Please” you choked as he wouldn’t relent and continued to suck and lick until you slowly calmed down.

‘See, I told you, you could do it’ the man then chuckled and you could not help but laugh and cry all at the same time.

‘Fuck’ you gasped. ‘I didn’t expect to cum like this” you stammered nervously, causing the stranger to smile and look at you with both, admiration and confusion.

‘Then what did you expect?’ he teased before he moved up and kissed your lips hard, making you taste yourself on his lips.

‘Not sure, actually. I just never had an orgasm from oral sex before’ you stammered nervously after he pulled away from you and used his palms to spread your lips.

‘Really?’ he asked, adoring your shyness and you nodded before moving your hand to his cock.

“Really” you said while stroking his cock, eliciting soft moans from him. “But I still need you inside of me. I want to feel you” you then told him while he positioned himself between your legs.

“Do you have condoms?” Cillian then asked, seeing that he was entirely unprepared for this.

‘No, but I am on the pill” you said nervously, knowing that things were about to become real. He was going to slide into you and you were nervous about it for some reason.

‘Good’ he responded. ‘I can’t wait to feel you’ Cillian then said as he ran his hands up the inside of your thighs, sliding them toward your pussy before using his fingers to spread your labia slowly and gently, dipping his index finger inside to cover it in your slippery juices again.

‘Please. Stop teasing” you moaned as Cillian moved the tip of his finger upward to find your clit, which had grown under the excitement and was now protruding from the protection of its hood. The sweet smell of sex filled his nostrils as he made small, slow circles with his finger.

‘So impatient aren’t we’ Cillian teased while angling his length downward to touch its head against the lips of your pussy. It was like a drug to watch himself rubbing against you, coating the head of his penis in a sheen of your slippery wetness.

‘Yes, please. I want your cock inside of me’ you begged again as you thrust with your hips forward, wanting him to penetrate you and, after a little more teasing, so he did.

“Like this?” Cillian teased as, slowly, but surely, he entered you and you moaned at the sensation.

“Oh god yes, fuck” you cried as he stretched you and began thrusting in and out of you almost right away after you pushed yourself against him.

‘God you are so tight’ Cillian groaned as he watched himself slide into and back out of your pussy. His cock was shiny, coated with your natural lubrication as he began to fuck you and, soon, his thrusts became harder and faster.

‘I feel so full…This feels so good…’ you moaned as ecstasy came in quick hot waves as the stranger pumped into you and you began to moan louder than before. You experienced an uncontrollable urge to howl that you could barely hold back and the stranger then suddenly gripped you as tightly as he could manage.

You both used every muscle in your bodies to create one living, writhing creature rather than two. Eventually, you cried out too loudly though and the man took you with the deepest most passionate kiss he ever possessed as you spiralled into a lazy heap.

‘You are taking my cock so well…’ the stranger groaned after a while and then he lifted upward, prompting you to raise your knees off the bed.

‘Fuck’ he continued on as he pressed into you again and you lifted your legs completely in to the air. He grabbed your ankles and held them in the air above his shoulders, continuing to thrust with the same speed and energy as before. Bringing your feet closer together increased the tightness for both of them. Spreading your legs apart gave him the entire view of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy and provided more stimulation for your clit which is when, without warning, you came hard.

‘Oh my fucking god’ you screamed and, as the muscles in your pussy tightened around his cock, the handsome stranger slowed his thrusts leaving himself almost all the way inside you. You let out a long, loud moan again and then bent your knees and pressed them tightly together, with your whole-body quivering.

He kept his swollen cock deep inside your as he felt the muscles inside your pussy squeeze him tight. He could feel several distinct strong squeezes amidst the overall tightness. Then you gradually softened before going completely loose. He rubbed your upper arms finding that they had exploded in goosebumps. He pressed his body forward as you relaxed your knees, sliding to lay himself on top of you. He kissed you first on the mouth and then on the sides of your neck, just under your ears.

‘You look so sexy when you cum’ he then said as, over the next few minutes, he mapped out a field of kisses across your neck and collar bone. He placed his kisses like stepping-stones in a slow, connected, but wandering path. Passionate. Loving. His erection was holding strong inside your warm pussy, but he hadn't moved his hips at all and you began to kiss him back, first slowly, then more rapidly. He felt your knees lift off the bed as you slid your hands down his back, grabbing his butt. Even though he was still completely inserted, you pulled him tight against you. You were ready for more.

“Can you cum again for me?” he then asked but you weren’t sure. You never came more than once, so you doubted your ability to cum a third time.

‘I don’t know’ you admitted, but the stranger smiled.

‘Well, we will see, won’t we?’ he teased before pulling out of you after all

"I want to fuck you from behind. Common” he then said as he sat up on his knees and you rolled over and positioned yourself on all fours.

His cock had softened slightly while you had stopped fucking, but it was now back to being fully erect. He watched the tip bounce slightly as it pulsed in time with his heartbeat. It looked and felt thicker than usual.

‘Fuck, look at this pussy of yours. You are soaking’ he groaned as he put his cock in his hand and positioned himself behind you. He angled himself downward to meet your inviting pussy and then he pushed in, with one single thrust.

He felt as though he was able to penetrate you more deeply in this position and, with each consequent thrust forward, you shrieked as the tip of his cock hit your cervix.

Your bones seemed to ache from the feeling of his stomach muscles clenching hard against your back as he rutted into you. You pushed your ass back against him, and you found your rhythm, bodies slapping, panting and grunting in the dim light of his bedroom.

The pleasure was overwhelming and, every time you were about to cum, he teased you and slowed his movements.

You had both hit a plateau where everything seemed sensational but you could not last much longer.

"Fuck me hard. I want to cum again” you gasped and so he did. You requesting him to fuck your harder had provided that extra bit of stimulation that was ultimately too much. In an instant, he shifted from feeling like he could last forever and was now into impending orgasm countdown. He wanted to hold off long enough for you to cum together, and he was suddenly very close. But so were you. Again.

“Fuck, you feel so good” he groaned as he spread his knees a bit wider so he would be lower, and his angle of penetration would rub closer to your clit.

“I am so close again” you then moaned as he also shortened his thrusts so the head of his cock would come completely out of your pussy and then only go about half-way back in. He let go of your hips and bent over to cup your breasts while kissing your back.

‘Then let go for me’ he groaned as he, too, was about to explode and raised his torso back up and pulled himself completely out of your pussy.

The air of the room felt cold against his cock compared to the heat from inside you. He used his hand to rub the swollen head of his cock up and down against your pussy lips teasing you, but you pushed backwards and engulfed him again.  

"Fuck me hard," you repeated, almost yelling.

"What's that? You want me to fuck you hard?" he asked, pulling out again.

"Yes," You answered with a moaning voice. "Please."

"With this?" he asked, tapping the head of his cock against your pussy.

"Yes. Fuck me with your cock. Hard and fast” you gasped and, with that, he roughly pushed back into your wetness, spearing you on as your mind bubbling orgasm overwhelmed you.

You suddenly screamed, shivered and convulsed in orgasmic bliss and it was when you fully gave into him, that Cillian reached his high as well, filling you with his warm seed.

‘Fuck, that’s it’ he groaned as he thrusted back in. His shaft began to throb and he felt himself spurt once as he thrust in, then again as he pulled back. He continued to feel pulses of his orgasm come faster than he could fuck you now but you were past it. You were at your peak and the sensations of your pussy changed again, prolonging your orgasm, as he pushed through his own load inside of you. It was a fantastically satisfying feeling. As the pulsing continued, he wondered how much cum he was leaving inside you. It felt like a lot.

‘Jesus. God. Stop please’ you moaned as it became too much and he slowed down. His cum had leaked down his shaft and was covering the entirety of his cock, your pussy and its lips, pushing out on the sides of your tight hole as he finally withdrew from you.

After he pulled out, some streaks of your combined juices poured out of your slit and onto the sheets which, for some reason, felt incredibly satisfying.

‘Now this was not how I had expected tonight to turn out’ Cillian then said as he looked down on you with even more lust after you collapsed onto the bed, still panting and with your legs spread. Seeing his achievement aroused him all over again and he took his fingers to spread the lips of your pussy apart to get a better look.

‘Me neither’ you confirmed just as Cillian pushed two fingers into you and, you couldn’t help but shriek for which he appeared delighted.

When he pulled them out, they were covered in cum and you looked at him and yourself before reaching for his hand and guiding it to your mouth.

‘Jesus, really?’ he asked surprised as you stuck out your tongue and licked his fingers clean.

‘Really. I wanted to see what you taste like’ you winked and, just as you had sucked your combined juices from his fingers, he kissed you again passionately, tasting you and himself on your lips.

‘You are in for a long night’ he then warned you and you could see that he was already hardening again which certainly surprised you for a man in his mid-forties. He was clearly eager to make the most of this one-night stand and so were you.

With that, you both rolled out of bed and made your way into the shower for round two and then returned to the bed for round three.

Round four and five then took place in the morning and, after hours of passionate sex, a lack of sleep and Cillian cooking you some breakfast, it was time for you to leave.

‘Will I see you again?’ you asked as you were about to head out of the door. You hoped that he would be giving you his number after the amazing night you had shared but, unfortunately for you, he was true to his word.

This was nothing more than a one-night stand for him. He was not interested in dating again, nor was he ready to date anyone just yet. He told you this and that, in his opinion, you were far too young for him, though he did not even know your real age yet.

You accepted his position and kissed him once more before leaving his apartment, somewhat saddened by the fact that he did not want another date with you.

All you knew about him was his first name and the fact that he was incredible in bed. You knew that you would never see him again and, with this in mind, you soon returned to your old habits.

Over the next week, while pondering on about the handsome stranger you’ve met and shared a night with, you got back together with James. Much to the dislike of your friends, you were stuck in a cycle again and could not break it. James, once again, had a hold on you and after yet another argument with him, you made your way to Drama School on Monday with some bad temper and anger.

You enrolled into a new class and rocked up late and somewhat unprepared while your two friends were already waiting for you, in the hall next to the lecture room which is where you had to sign in.

‘Guess what?’ one of them said but you were too tired and depressed to take guesses. You were up all night again, in tears, as James was keeping taps on you and this was something you did not like.

‘I am not in the mood’ you thus said while looking through your schedule.

‘We have a new teacher for our practical work and he is fucking hot’ Lorraine said, while your other friend rolled her eyes.

‘He’s not that hot’ she said, sighing while looking at you. Clearly, you were not listening.

‘God, did you even watch Peaky Blinders?’ Lorraine then asked you both without getting an answer for you.

‘No, should I have watched it?’ your other friend then asked.

‘Yes. It is a brilliant show. He is brilliant. Hot and single’ Lorraine said like an eager little schoolgirl.

‘And old’ your other friend pointed out.

‘Y/N hooked up with a mid-forty-year-old guy a week ago and she said she had the best sex ever, so don’t knock it before you have tried it, isn’t that right Y/N?’ Lorraine teased but you did not respond. You had other things on your mind until, suddenly, you saw a familiar face in the distance, talking to the principal of the drama school.

‘Y/N?’ your friend then said, nudging your shoulder but all this did was make you drop your books. Your mouth stood open, gaping, as your eyes followed the principal and her companion.

‘Y/N! What’s wrong with you? Did you see a ghost?’ Lorraine laughed and you sure did.

‘Something like that’ you said while pointing to the principal and the handsome stranger by her side.

‘That’s Cillian Murphy. He is our new prac teacher’ Lorraine giggled and then you dropped your coffee too.

‘Fuck’ you said.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

Tag List

@fastfan

@elenavampire21

@dolllol2405

@allie131313

@cilliansangel

@coldbastille

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@cdej6

@kathrinemelissa

@landlockedmermaid77

@crazymar15

@damedomino  

@lauren-raines-x

@miss-bunny19

@skinny-bitch-juice

@odorinana

@cloudofdisney

@weepingstudentfishhorse

@allexiiisss

@geminiwolves

@letsstarsfalling

@ysmmsy

@chlorrox

@tommyshelbypb

@chocolatehalo

@music-lover911

@desperate-and-broken

@mysticaldeanvoidhorse

@peaky-cillian

@lelestrangerandunusualdeetz

@december16-1991

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

@romanogersendgame

@randomfangirl2718

@missymurphy1985

@peakyscillian

@lilymurphy03

@deefigs

@theflamecrystal

@livinginfantaxy

@rosey1981

@hanster1998

@fairypitou

@zozeebo

@kasaikawa

@littleweirdoalien

@sad-huffle-nerd

@theflamecrystal

@0ghostwriter0

@stylescanbeatmyback

@1-800-peakyblinders

@datewithgianni

@momoneymolife

@mcntsee

@janelongxox

@basiclassy

@being-worthy

@chaotic-bean-of-smolness

@margoo0

@vhscillian

@crazymar15

@im-constantly-fangirling

@namelesslosers

@littlewhiterose

@ttzamara

@cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon

@dolllol2405

@pkab

@babaohhhriley

@littleweirdoalien

@alreadybroken-ts

@masteroperator

@stevie75

@shabzy96

@rainbow12346

@obsessedwithfandomsx

@geeksareunique

@laysalespoir

@paigem00

@lkarls

@vamp-army

@luckystarme

@myjumper

@gxorg

@eline-1806

@goldenharrysworld

@cristinagronk16

@stylesofloki

@faatxma

@slut-for-matt-murdock

@tpwkstiles

@myjumper

@cloudofdisney

@look-at-the-soul

@smellyzcat

@kittycatcait219

@theliterarybeldam

@being-worthy

@layazul

@lyn07

@kagilmore

@50svibes

@mainstreetlilly

@ourthatgirlabby

@bitchwhytho

@takethee

@registerednursejackie

@sofi128

@mrkdvidal1989

@minxsblog

@heidimoreton

@laylasbunbunny

@laylasbunbunny

@queenshelby

@camilleholland89

@forgottenpeakywriter

@vintagecherryt

@indierockgirrl

@mrkdvidal1989

@bluesongbird

@dudde-44

@gasolinesavages

@kissforvoid

@bluebird592

@1eugenia1isabella1

@esposadomdp

@lulunalua23

@lovelace42

@bookklover23

@iwantmyredvelvetcupcake

@moonmaiden1996

@marlenamallowan

@cyphah (cannot tag)

@majesticcmey

@cleverzonkwombatsludge

@throughgoeshamilton

@alessioayla

@elenavampire21

@justforfiction

@cilliansangel​

@alannielaraye (cannot tag)

@satellitelh​

[irish-dress-history]

Attention American Viewers:

Lost Painting:

This lithograph was published in The Ulster Journal of Archaeology in 1856. It is based off a portrait of Owen Roe O’ Neill (Eoghan Ruadh Ó Néill) which is believed to have been painted before his death in 1649. The original painting was sold to an unrecorded buyer in America in about 1884, and its current location is unknown. The portrait is of great value to the cultural history of Ireland. In it, O' Neill wears a bairéad (Irish flat cap) and brat (shaggy Irish mantle), making it a rare, detailed portrayal 17th c. Irish dress.

Dr. Hiram Morgan of University College Cork is looking for the original painting. If anyone knows where it is, please email him at h.morgan@ucc.ie. (More info) (Also, please send me a photo of it.)

The original portrait is an oil painting on wood and is approximately 12 in x 16 in (30 cm x 40 cm). According to the 1856 description of the painting, "The colour of the hair [. . .] is not decidedly red, but only approaching to it. The tinge of redness, however, is quite sufficient to have distinguished him amongst a number of dark-haired men; and the complexion is clear and ruddy." A partially illegible text on the back of the painting reads, "Owen Roe O’Neill at the Court of [. . .] by the celebrated Dutch artist, Van Brugens".

The Ulster Journal states that the lithograph was "faithfully copied" from the painting, but if it really is an early 17th c. Dutch painting, I doubt the lithograph is an exact copy of it. 17th c. Dutch paintings tend to fill the whole canvas. They don't fade out at the edges.

A 1645 portrait by Dutch artist Bartholomeus van der Helst. Notice how the lace on her sleeves continues all the way to the bottom edge of the canvas.

If we had the original painting, it might show us more details of the garment O' Neill is wearing under his brat.

There is also a color print of this portrait by John D. Reigh. It was originally published in 1888 and was probably made after the original painting left Ireland.

I would guess the Reigh version is less accurate to the original than the Ulster Journal version. In the Ulster Journal version, O' Neill's face looks more like a distinct individual, whereas, in Reigh's version, O' Neill looks more like a generic manly man. 17th c. Dutch portrait painters tended to excel at capturing distinct individual detail, as seen in the van der Helst example above. I'm not an art expert though.

Keep an eye out, people in America. Owen Roe O’ Neill might be hiding in an attic or antique shop somewhere in the US.

[cillianhead]

Anything about cillian with a beard!

Cillian with a beard... oh my god don't even get me started.

Anyway here you go my love <3

Three And A Half Months || Cillian Murphy x Reader

warnings: SMUT, also a fluffy sweet fic, oral sex (f receiving), face riding, mentions of blood but nothing too graphic, general adult content ahead.

18+ Minors DNI

Last night you had reunited with Cillian. It had been three and a half months since you had last seen each other, the longest you had ever gone without seeing one another, he was away shooting for a new film and it was in the states so traveling back and forth between Ireland and America grew exhausting. Of course, as soon as you saw each other, you had no time to process the beard on his face, just the fact he was there. Nothing else mattered except him being there, right in front of you, to touch and to hold. So you went at it like rabbits, knocking over furniture, breathing each other in like feral animals, making love until you were sore and panting for air. No amount of late night phone calls could ever truly compare to the feeling of having his cock deep inside you.

The next morning arrived, light pouring through the curtains and lighting a still sleeping Cillian in a golden light, the rays gave him a tiny halo, one you thought he rightfully deserved. You just smiled to yourself, the both of you still completely nude from last night's love making, you felt at peace, lying in bed with the love of your life, his arm draped over your waist heavily, the sound of his slow breathing, and the indescribable feeling of his warmth beside you. Every time you looked at him, a metaphorical slow romantic guitar would play, your heart would swell and overflow with love, and your eyes stung with the happy tears that seemed to always come. That was the thing about you, so incredibly emotional, Cillian always teased you about it. You'd cry at any chance you could get, whether it be because of hormones or because you saw a cute cat or because of the beauty that Cillian is. And when he had come home with that rugged beard that made him so handsome and so deliciously masculine, you felt weak in the knees, you cried but not from your eyes.

"Mornin' me love," The irish lilt of his voice mixed with the grumble of his morning voice brought you out of your daydreaming. "Lookin' so beautiful f'me." He leaned in, placing a soft sweet kiss to your cheek. You couldn't feel uglier with your messy bed hair and your puffy face after a long night's rest. But to Cillian you were the apple of his eye, no other woman could ever possibly compare.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too," He chuckled at your confession. "Those three months and a half went on for far too long but I'm here now, lovie."

"No, no..." You shook your head with a childish grin. "I missed you while we slept... missed you for every moment... was watchin' you sleep."

Cillian laughed contagiously, you giggled too as you felt him pull you closer to him, your bare chests touching. He nuzzled your nose with his own, this moment so full of love, so intimate and private. You felt like the luckiest person in the world to be with him. The light painting you two in a golden hue, the moment felt so surreal, like something out of a wonderful dream or something you'd see right before you die, right as your soul becomes free.

"What've you got planned today, Cillian?" You hummed, you both huffed out hot puffs of air on each other's faces, neither of you caring that you hadn't brushed your teeth yet. Just relieved you could finally touch each other again, relieved your souls could finally reunite and recharge, that your bodies were flushed together, it wasn't possible for you two to be any closer (physically at least).

"Nothin'," Cillian murmured quietly, stroking your hair softly. "Just planned on spending it with my favorite girl, thas' all." You felt yourself grow flustered, nuzzling your face into his chest before glancing shyly back up at him, growing more flustered at the sight of him and his beard. That beard that made your heart race and in between your legs throb with desire.

"Cillian..." You whined, catching your bottom lip in between your teeth. He was so fucking pretty and even after all this time of being together, you could never get over it. It made you feel like a giddy little girl with a silly school girl crush.

"Hmmm?" He hummed. The deep vibration sending jolts of arousal straight to your core. "What is it, baby love?"

"Your beard..." You ran your fingers along the hair accumulating across his jawline and cheeks, clenching your thighs together. In all the time you and Cillian had been together, he had always been clean-shaven, of course there'd be the rare occasion where he forgets to shave for a day or two and has a bit of stubble but nothing ever this long. Cillian had that knowing look on his face, he very much knew the effect he had over you. Arrogant was not the word you would ever use to describe Cillian, in fact he was an incredibly humble and modest man but when it came to riling you up, teasing you, he was quite arrogant then, arrogant in the way he knew every little inch about you and would use that against you. He enjoyed teasing you, enjoyed getting you where you were weak because he enjoyed watching you squirm. "It's so...." You trailed off, biting your lip once again with that flustered look on your face.

"...So what?" Cillian grinned, a cheeky glint in his blue eyes as his hand slipped further down your back until it rested on your bare ass. "Go on, tell your husband how wet his beard's gotten ya, love." Well that was unexpected.

You let out a bashful squeal, diving your face into his chest to hide the look of desperation and embarrassment on your flushed face. You heard him laugh, amused by how easily aroused you were. "Cillian... don't tease me... it's been three months..."

"And a half!" He added.

"...Since I last saw you, you can't blame me... especially since you look sooooooo fucking good with a beard..." You were looking him in the eyes now, his own pupils blown wide and a small one-sided smirk on his face. You slipped your hand down his abdomen before your fingers wrapped around his already hard cock, he let out a small breath at the feeling of your gentle hand.

"C'mere, Y/N," Cillian groaned, grabbing you by your waist, picking you up like you weighed nothing and sitting you up on his stomach. "Wanna taste you... s'been too fuckin' long."

Your arousal pooled on his stomach, getting off on the slight friction against your clit every time he breathed in and out but it wasn't quite enough. "Cillian... baby..." You huffed, too shy to make the first move, he gave your ass a gentle slap.

"Go on, sit on me fuckin' face," He was growing impatient, licking his lips. "Show me how much you love my beard, know you're soaking wet 'cause of it, silly girl."

He wasn't wrong and so you meekly crawled until your pussy was aligned with his hungry face. You hovered your hips hesitantly over his nose and lips, your thighs on either side of his head. He roughly grabbed ahold of your plush hips and pulled you down until he was suffocating in your sopping cunt.

"Fuck!" You mewled, your pussy ached with how turned on you were. His tongue lapped up at you, his nose perfectly brushing your clit as he fucked his tongue in and out of your tight hole. You never understood how he could breathe with your weight fully on top of him, he'd always give you some form of punishment if you didn't sit on top of his face like he was just a chair so you did as you knew he wanted. He always reassured you that he loved it, that being under you with his face buried in you was heaven on earth. And who were you to deny him what he so desperately craved when it felt so unbelievably good? He especially loved it when you took control, when you gave into the pleasure and rode his face, used his face like it was just something for you to cum on. He also knew the consequences of growing out his beard, he knew it'd turn you on, and this was exactly what he was hoping for. He knew once you came all over his face, he'd smell you in his beard for days.

Cillian was in pure bliss as he felt your fingers interlock with his hair, holding onto him for support as you began rocking your hips back and forth on his tongue and nose, moaning so fucking loud that the neighbors could hear. It had been so long and the feeling of his beard scratching your thighs and sticky folds made the experience so much better. The new sensation was only making you moan louder and louder.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck... Cillian..." You were gasping, Cillian groans into your pussy, encouraging your rough movements. "Missed this so much! Missed your face..." Fuck. The feeling of his nose pressed right where you need him, right against your throbbing clit, it was like he was made for you. You loved his nose and you always told him so.

Cillian was breathing you in, feasting on you, like all there was was you. Well at the moment, that was true. All he could hear, see, taste, and smell, and feel, was you. He could feel cum leak slowly out of his cock, not being able to handle how turned on and rock hard he was, he needed some kind of release. But there was no way in hell he was going to touch himself, not when he could have his hands grasp onto your hips, holding you down on his face even further. He hoped one of these days that you would eventually become one. That he could have your delicious cunt permanently on his face, even if it meant suffocating to death.

"Cillian... I... fuck..." Your head was rolled back, hand gripping desperately onto the top of his head, too lost in the pleasure to think about how you could be hurting him but you knew if it was too much for him he'd tap out which he never does. You knew Cillian would take whatever you gave him. "I'm cumming!" You choked out, your hips that were previously fucking his face slowed down a bit, stuttering your movements as you came. You hadn't came this hard in months, your fingers could never compare, nor could your vibrator, or showerhead. You had fully collapsed on top of his head, thighs squeezing his head like a vice as you saw stars. Your vision going completely white. Cillian lapped up all of it, taking it gratefully, face completely drenched and well ridden as you pulled off of him with a gasp.

"Bloody hell..." He grunted, gasping for air. You sat on his chest, still too weak or sensitive to move. Cillian smiled up at you dopily, high off of feeding off you. It only turned you on further how he got off on your pleasure. "Tastes so good... missed that so much... think I know what I'll be doin' all of today, love." You shook your head at Cillian, giggling a bit.

His face was drenched and beard sticky with your cum. Your cum formed perfect little droplets within the hair on his face, looking like he had just dipped his whole face in some sort of body of water, your cum had made it all the way to his forehead somehow. You blushed as you hopped off of him, you always felt embarrassed afterwards.

"Oh my god!" You exclaimed, seeing a bit of blood staining his teeth, you looked down at your groin to make sure you weren't bleeding (maybe you got your period?) but your heart sank at the realization you had managed to bust his top lip with how hard you rode his face. "I'm so sorry, Cillian! I'm so so sorry!"

He sat up with a frown, rubbing at his mouth to see the bit of blood on his fingers. He grinned like a mad man at the sight, standing up to look at himself in the mirror. You didn't understand why he was so happy about it. Beard coated in your creamy cum, face flushed, and his top lip bruised and swollen from where it had been repeatedly rubbing against his teeth. Cillian was pleased with his appearance and the newly made wound on his face. You stood up on shaky legs, cupping his face, worriedly.

"It's okay, love," Cillian reassured. "I'm fine, just a bit of blood, it'll heal by tomorrow I'm sure."

"No! I hurt you! I'm sorry I wasn't thinking!" You felt so guilty, you felt like the worst wife in the world. You brushed your thumb along his wet beard with a sad look on your face.

"Y/N," He said firmly, grabbing a hold of your waist, giving you a soft kiss, giving you a taste of yourself. "I wish you could understand just how much I love it when you ride my face. Best fuckin' thing in the whole world, how many times have I told you I'd die a happy man if it meant I got to drown in ya? Hmmm?" He smiled, you still frowned up at him, feeling guilty at his reddened lips. "Fuck, I don't think I could look sexier right now, I mean look at me! I don't really care f'me on looks but c'mon... you make me beautiful, Y/N..." Cillian looked delicious, he was right, you wanted to pounce him then and there and sit on his face all over again. "If people ask what happened to my lip, I can make up some flimsy excuse about how I fell on my face or some shit like that but smile to myself... knowin' the real story..." He licked his lips before continuing. "Knowin' that my goddess of a wife got herself off on my face because she loves me so much..."

His voice was soft, his hands caressed your naked body as he leaned in and kissed you. His beard was the best feeling ever against your lips. "I am sorry though... Cillian... I should've been more gentle..." You murmured. Cillian shook his head, he loved it when you were rough with him.

"I know a way you can make it up to me, darling," He hummed with that mischievous grin before gently pushing you down onto your knees, face right next to his deliciously hard cock. He moved his hips so that the head of his dick pushed at your lips, slapping you gently across the face with it. "Can't promise I'm gonna last very long though..."

"That's fine, Cillian... love the taste of your cum..." You said smiling as you lovingly took him into your mouth. God he looked so pretty with his beard.

-

<33333

[cowgurrrl]

From the Dining Table

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: I feel like I should just leave the author’s note blank because there’s nothing I can do to make it better

Summary: “The love was there. It didn’t change anything. It didn’t save anyone. There were just too many forces against it. But it still matters that the love was there.” [4.5k]

Warnings: oh it’s so sad, mentions of bullying, hard conversations, goodbyes, June ruining everyone’s night yet again

Red Dirt Girl becomes the number one movie in America the first weekend it's in theatres. Box office numbers are insanely high, promising a high payout for everyone involved, and people are already talking about sweeping the competition during awards season. Peter sent flowers to your house to congratulate you, and you and Lilly are scheduled to do as much press together as possible before you leave for Ireland. It's the best-case scenario. So, why can't you let yourself feel good about it? 

Instead of basking in your accomplishments and the pride you feel for this project or going out to celebrate on the clear Friday night that settled over LA, you're packing boxes. You're only taking the things you can't live without, but going through your stuff and deeming what you need and don't is exhausting. The rooms in your house feel especially empty as you silently walk around, thinking your way through the tasks. You consider calling Ryan or your mom to fill the eerie quiet but decide against it. You'll have to talk about Joel if you call either of them, and you don't think you're ready for that yet. So, you open your notes app and try to find the strength to do at least one thing on your list of boring, necessary things that need to get done.

Your to-do list feels never-ending and daunting every time you glance at it. You haven't even thought about finding another manager despite it being the most pressing issue besides your move. You'd been with Mel since you came to LA and thought she'd be your manager for at least another four or five years. She wasn't perfect, but she always made sure your name was being spoken in the important rooms and fought tooth and nail for you. She was ruthless on your behalf. She got you to where you are today. That's not nothing. 

You sigh and pull your hair into a ponytail, debating on going through your books or closet, when a loud knock sounds from downstairs. To call it a knock is a little generous. It sounds like someone is pounding on your door, but you're not expecting anyone. You grab the baseball bat from your bedroom closet before walking down the stairs and approaching the front door. Your knuckles turn white around the grip as you peek through the peephole to see who could possibly be pounding on your door at nine pm. The second you figure out who it is, you drop the bat and scramble to open the door.

"Ellie?" You ask, cutting her off mid-raised fist. Her hair is in her face, and she's wearing her glasses, your porch light casting shadows over her eyes. A big backpack is slung over her big hoodie, and she looks distraught.

"My dad said I can still talk to you if I want. Is that true?" She asks breathlessly, and you look behind her to see if Joel or Sarah dropped her off but find nothing. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Come in," you say, opening the door wider for her to come in. She takes two long strides over your threshold and into your home while you wrack your brain about how to handle this. Is there a handbook out there for talking to your ex-boyfriend's daughter? "Please tell me you didn't ride your bike here."

"No, I took an Uber." She says nonchalantly as you follow her into your living room. You chuckle and turn to ask her if she wants water or a snack but stop yourself short when you finally get a look at her black eye.

"Oh, my God! What happened?" 

"It's not a big deal." She says as you force her to sit at your dining table, put her backpack down, and carefully take her glasses off her face. She winces when you put your hand on her chin to turn her face so you can see her eye better. Under the glow of your kitchen lights, you find a swelling bruise on her jaw and a cut on her nose. How did you not see her injuries in the dark? 

You rush around, gathering ice and a bandaid for her nose. She doesn't say anything as she sits there, looking pretty miserable, and your heart aches at the pout of her lips. You hand her an ice pack to hold to her head while you clean and bandage the cut across her nose. None of the bruises look especially scary, and despite a little blood staining her cheek, she's perfectly fine. You take out your phone flashlight and shine the light across her pupils, watching them dilate accordingly.

"Are you a nurse all of a sudden?" She asks, and you smile as you put your phone face down on the table in front of you. 

"No, but I've played them enough on TV to know how to check for a concussion."

"Oh, is that the requirement?" She asks, and you hum. She fights a smile as she breaks eye contact with you to look down at her hands, which you notice are also bruised and cracked. "Dad told me you guys broke up." She says quietly. She looks so defeated with her slouched posture and nervous foot tapping. You know now is not a time to lie to her.

"Yeah, we did."

"Why?"

"It's complicated." 

"That's exactly what Dad said," she says. The idea of you and Joel parroting each other from opposite sides of the city pulls all the air from you and leaves you floundering. "I'm not a kid. You can tell me what happened." And she's right. She's fourteen. She's old enough to understand how relationships work, but you don't know if it's your place to tell her what happened. You don't know what you're allowed to tell her. You don't know if you're overstepping or how to fix it if you are. 

"Sometimes," you start uncertainly, hoping the words will find you along the way. "Sometimes, two people can really care about each other, but that doesn't mean they'll be together forever or even good for each other." You say, and she makes a face.

"That sucks."

"Yeah, it does," you sigh. "Now that I told you that, can you tell me why you're showing up at my doorstep at nine o'clock at night?" You change the subject, and she bites her bottom lip as her foot tapping speeds up. 

"Dad and I got into a fight." 

"Does it have anything to do with your shiner?" You ask, nodding in the direction of her black eye.

"He didn't even try to hear my side of the story!"

"Which is?" You ask, and she very quickly dives into a story of a kid who's been picking on her all year. She said she told Joel what was happening, and he said something about ignoring it or talking to the teacher, which wasn't working. Apparently, the kids' parents are some big-shot tech people the teachers don't like dealing with, so they were just gonna let him do whatever until the end of the school year. Today, he said something along the lines of Sarah's mom coming back and Ellie's mom never being able to.

"And I never even knew her! But that's still my fucking mom, and I know how sensitive Sarah is about Angela, and I just got so angry that I hit him. A lot." She says like she's waiting for you to argue with her, but you can't even imagine yelling at her after hearing that. You open your phone and open your notes app.

"What's your teacher's name?" You ask. She tells you, and you have to take several deep breaths to stop yourself from finding the teacher's phone number and calling him to ask him if he thinks it's acceptable for a student to taunt another student's dead mother. "I'll call the school on Monday, okay? That kind of behavior is disgusting, and you were justified in what you did." You say, grabbing her hand and squeezing. She nods and smiles softly as she looks at you, her dark brown eyes looking right through you. 

"You know, I don't usually like most of the people my dad dates," she says. "But I really liked you." Her use of the past tense cuts deep inside you, and you swallow thickly.

"Yeah. I like you too," you smile. "But, just because your dad and I aren't together anymore doesn't mean we can't still hang out or talk. I still care about you and your sister, and I've got quite a few movies I still need to watch." You say, and she nods, but there's something sad in her movements. You wonder if Joel told the girls about Ireland and how they reacted. Even if he didn't, Ellie is smart. She sees the boxes in your living room and the stuff piled together. She knows something is happening. Something that will impede future movie nights and emergency visits in the middle of the night. She shifts in her seat and lets go of your hand to tug at her ponytail, effectively retracting from you.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Did you love my dad?" She asks, and you bite the inside of your cheek, shaking your head. You think about lying or just not answering her question altogether, but that's not fair. She opened up to you. She trusted you, and you know what it feels like to have that trust broken or not reciprocated. You stare into her eyes and try to not get emotional.

"Yeah, I did." 

"Did you break up because of us?" 

"Honey, no. No, not at all," you say, perching on the edge of your chair so your knees are touching. "Your dad and I... have very different lives and schedules, and we tried. We really, really tried, but I don't think the timing is right for us. I don't know if it'll ever be right for us, but you and your sister had nothing to do with why we broke up, okay?" You say, slouching a little to get in her eye line, and she nods. "When I found out about you guys, I wasn't scared or intimidated. I was excited because your dad only ever told me how beautiful, and brilliant, and amazing, and kind his daughters were, but when I met you, you exceeded all that. You and Sarah have become two of my favorite people on this planet, and there will never be a time when I don't cheer you guys on or want what's absolutely best for you. I mean, if I didn't like you, do you think I would've opened the door?" You ask, and she laughs. The sound makes you smile, and you put your hand on her knee. 

"You, Ellie Miller, are going to do incredible things, and I can't wait to watch it." 

"Thank you." She says softly, and you nod. There, in your kitchen, you share a quiet moment with Ellie where neither of you needs to say anything more. The love says everything you can't bring yourself to voice just yet. If you squint, you can imagine what her mother must've looked like. All big eyes and toothy grins and wavy hair. But even without any actual Miller DNA flowing through her veins, you see Joel, too. You see how he raises his eyebrows or can't hide what he's thinking to save his life. You see his smile. You see his kindness and anxiety. You see all the best parts of him. This time with her feels like a warm hug, as much as a goodbye. Nostalgic and sad and welcome all at the same time. You don't know when you'll be able to sit at a table with Ellie Miller and just stare at her again, but you know if you never see her again, you can count yourself lucky to have met such an amazing young woman. She must make her mom so proud.

"You know I have to call your dad to tell him you're here, right?" You ask quietly, and she nods. You sit there for another second before grabbing your phone and walking into the next room to call Joel. Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at his contact information, a picture of him with his tongue out still set as his contact photo. You took it on Facetime when he was still in Texas. He was complaining about how his stomach hurt from eating too much barbeque, and he was pretending to be dead. Even after everything, it still makes you smile. You press the call button before you lose the courage to do so. He picks up on the second ring.

"Hey, I can't really talk right now. Ellie and I got into a fight, and she ran off, and I don't know what to do. Has she talked to you? Do you know where she might be?" He says quickly, sounding frantic as he shuffles with something on the other end.

"Yeah, she showed up on my doorstep about thirty minutes ago. She's fine. A little upset, but she's safe." You say and hear him sigh with relief. 

"Thank God. Okay, I'm comin' to get her. Can you keep her there until I can get to your house?"

"Of course."

"Thank you," he says. Neither of you immediately ends the call, but you don't say anything either. You can hear him breathing and imagine him standing there, flush with worry, and grinding his teeth despite the number of times you've told him to stop. It's the closest you two have been in weeks. "I really fucked up." He finally says, and you take a breath.

"All the best parents do."

"Yeah?" He asks, that familiar lilt returning to his voice. Your heart squeezes, and you nod.

"Yeah. Reminds your kids that you're human too."

"I guess," he says. It's quiet for another five seconds before he clears his throat. "Thank you for takin' care of her."

"She's a good kid."

"Yeah, she is." 

"I'll..." you start. You know you're talking in circles but don't want to get off the phone. He waits you out. "I'll see you soon." You finally say, and the phone moves against his ear.

"See you soon." He says, hesitating before ending the call. You exhale and stare at his contact photo for another second before locking your phone and walking back to the main living area. Ellie has moved from the dining room table to the couch, an old leather-bound book in her hands. You tilt your head to read the title. Much Ado About Nothing. One of your favorite Shakespeare plays that you never got to do. You perch on the edge of the couch near Ellie and smile when she puts her book down to look at you.

"That book looks older than you." 

"That's 'cause it is. It was my dad's in high school." She says, and you look at her, confused. 

"What?"  

"Yeah. He said his music teacher bought it for him or something. Dad really liked him. Wrote his name down in the acknowledgments in his first album and everything." She shrugs like it's nothing. Suddenly, you're back in New York with Joel, his hand over your heart as he listens to you recite a centuries-old monologue.

"He told me he didn't study Shakespeare in school."

"He probably didn't want you to know he's a massive nerd. He loves it. He made us go to the Globe Theatre when we were in England. It was actually pretty cool," she yawns. "I'm tired. Can I go lay down in one of the beds until my dad gets here?" 

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, that's fine. My room is up the stairs and to the left. I just got new pillows, so that'll probably be the most comfortable." You say, your brain still struggling to piece together what she just said. She yawns again and gives you a thumbs-up before standing with her book in hand and disappearing up the stairs.

Joel told you he didn't know anything about something you, apparently, both love. Why? Was he quizzing you? Was he trying to figure out if you actually know what you're talking about? Or was he trying to get another perspective? Did he pretend not to know so you could explain it to him in your own way? How the fuck did you not know? You want to call and ask him all these things, but you don't. You wait.

You rotate between anxiously pacing your living room, checking on Ellie (who's snoring in your bed with the book open next to her), organizing and reorganizing your stuff into boxes. Anything to keep your mind busy until Joel can get there. From the time you ended the call to when your front door opened and closed quietly, twenty minutes had passed, but it felt like a lifetime. Joel walks into the living room like it's his own house and smiles when he sees you, looking around the room for Ellie. He wearing his own glasses and a plain black shirt with jeans. The bags under his eyes are prominent, and his hair is messy. He looks exhausted.

"She went upstairs to lie down and fell asleep. I didn't want to wake her up." You answer his unspoken question, and he nods, his shoulders visibly dropping.

"No, that's okay. I'm glad she's gettin' some rest," he says, sighing deeply. "Did she tell you bout our fight?" 

"A little bit, yeah," you say, and he grimaces. You glance between the place where you and Ellie were sitting and him. "Do you wanna sit?" You ask, and he nods. Carefully, without even grazing each other, you sit across from him and stare at him. You don't know what you're supposed to say. You don't know if you're supposed to say anything. 

"You still doin' that movie with Pike?" He beats you to it, and you nod. There's no frustration or anger in his question, only curiosity. 

"I leave for Ireland in two weeks." 

"Ireland's beautiful." 

"It is." You say, not sure how else to respond. He shifts in his seat and looks at his hands as he nervously taps a rhythm into your table. 

"Thank you again for takin' her in and makin' sure she was safe. I really appreciate it." He says.

"I'm just happy she knew she could come here."

"Me too," he says. "Can we... do you wanna... I just need to say I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, but I did, and I'm sorry. I should've been better and more honest and less of a dick. You didn't deserve that." He word vomits, and your fingers twitch to reach for his. You take a deep breath and stare at him, watching his emotions play out behind his glasses.

"Thank you for apologizing," you say. "And I'm sorry, too. For everything. I wish things could be different."

"We could start over. Maybe try again," he says, his voice sad like he's trying, but he knows your answer won't change. "I don't... I don't know how to do this. But I wanna learn. I wanna learn for you." His words cut straight through to your heart, and your eyes flutter shut. You pinch the inside of your thigh to stop tears from forming, and take a shaky breath. He doesn't rush you. When you open your eyes, he's staring at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

"Sarah's gonna need you as she figures her mom out. It's gonna be hard, and she loves you more than I've ever seen a teenage girl love her dad. Ellie's gonna feel out of place, and she's gonna need you too. It wouldn't be fair to any of you to add this," you gesture between the two of you. "To that mix. It'd be too much. None of us would feel good about it. We'd all walk away a little burned and lot pissed off. I don't want that for us." You say, and he nods.  

"It's a nice dream." He says sadly.

"It is," you agree. "Can I ask you a question?"

"'Course." 

"When did it stop being fake for you?" You ask. He shakes his head, and his Adam's apple bobs.

"It was never fake for me. It just took me a little longer to figure out," he says, and you pinch your thigh again. "What bout you?"

"Texas," you admit, only a little ashamed at how late your answer is in comparison. "When you called me every day from Texas. That's when it stopped being fake for me," a tear spills from your eye, and Joel wipes it away before you can. His thumb is warm and familiar, and you almost lean into his touch before it can disappear completely. "This sucks."

"Yeah, it does."

"Do I, at least, get to know what songs on the newest album are about me?" You joke, and he laughs. He presses his lips together and rests his head on his hand as he looks at you.

"All of 'em," he says. "All of 'em are about you. Bout meetin' you or the way you talk in your sleep, but a lot of 'em are about New York."

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah."

"That was a good time," you say. "Ellie, um... Ellie told me about your trip to the Globe Theatre. Told me all about how much her dad loves Shakespeare," he chuckles like a kid caught with candy, and you smile. "Why'd you tell me you didn't know anything about it?"

"I don't know," he shrugs. "I really don't. I was thinkin' bout it the other day, and I just remembered seein' how much you loved it. Your eyes got real wide, and you got so excited, and I just... wanted to hear you talk about it. I think I would've stayed there with you all day if I could've." He says. You have to look away from him to hide to tears pooling in your eyes. 

This shouldn't be this hard. You're supposed to meet someone you love, and nothing else matters, and you get to be with that person forever. It's hard, but you get your whole lives to figure it out together. Who did you hurt in a past life that took this opportunity away? It's not fair. You want to rip the sky apart and scream at God and demand an explanation. You want someone to blame. You want more time. You want him, and not just the good parts that made you fall in love with him. You want the broken and ridged parts he's still hiding from you. You want the parts he hates. You want to lay them out on the table and show him you don't flinch when they catch the light. 

He puts his hand on your shoulder as tears fall from your eyes, and you sniffle. His thumb presses soothingly into your skin, and you let him. You shouldn't, but you do. You don't fall into his arms and sob like you want to. No, just like every juncture of your life thus far, you let yourself cry quietly and without fuss because there are things to do. And when you're done, you turn to look at him and see tears staining his cheeks too. You cover his hand with yours and squeeze his fingers, and he takes a deep breath.

"What are we gonna do now?" He asks. You pull his hand off your shoulder and hold it in your lap, both your hands covering his large one. You smile through your tears and kiss the top of his hand.

"I'm gonna go to Ireland, and you're gonna release your album. It'll hit the top of the charts overnight, and people will be singing your praises from the rooftops and speculating on what different songs mean like they always do. I'll lie in interviews and say I haven't listened to it, but I will because it'll be yours. You and the girls and Tommy'll go on tour, and I'll be there filming, and we'll try to talk when we can, but our schedules will get in the way until we don't think about each other all the time. I'll probably lose my mind because it rains so much in Ireland, and you'll go from selling out stadiums to crying at Sarah's graduation. And we'll both work way more than we should. And life'll go on like we were never really here," you say. "And maybe one day, when we're in LA at the same time, and nothing is stopping us and our schedules align, we'll get a coffee. And we'll talk. And we'll try again." You wipe Joel's tears away and try to keep yourself from falling apart. 

"I'll mark it on my calendar." He says, and you laugh. You squeeze his hand and nod.

"I'm counting on it, Miller."

You sit there for a few more minutes before you stand and hug him. It's quick. It has to be, but it's enough to settle your heart for a moment. Joel goes upstairs, scoops Ellie in his arms, and carefully carries her out to his car. He buckles her in and turns on the air conditioning so she doesn't get too hot in the California night. You stand outside, watching him be a dad, with your arms crossed over your chest. He shuts the door quietly and walks over to you.

"I hope you have a lot of fun in Ireland." He says sincerely.

"Thank you," you say. "I hope you have a great tour."

"Thanks," he nods. He looks over his shoulder to check on Ellie in the passenger seat before turning back to you. "I should get her home. She's had a long day."

"Of course." 

"I'll, uh... I'll see you around, okay?" He asks, and your heart jumps to your throat.

"I'll see you around, Joel." With that, he walks to the driver's side door, and you walk back toward your house, the space between you growing and growing as you get further away. Your chest hurts, and you know you're gonna go inside to cry some more, but you don't turn around. Not until he calls your name.

"I love you," he says from where he's standing in front of his truck. "And I don't expect you to say anything or change your mind, but I wanted you to know. I love you." Your hands are shaking, and your throat feels like it's tightening, but you manage to give him a weak smile.

"I love you, too." 

And then, he gets in his car and drives away with his daughter in the front seat. You go back to your empty house and your piles of stuff, and you cry, and in the back of your mind, you think, if I never speak to Joel Miller again, I think that's okay. I think it has to be.