#if you look at the details of anything they say they are so full of shit. genuinely in the running for biggest hypocrite in the cast

[lazysoulwriter]

not today, lando, not today. - lando norris.

----

Lando had been a cocky little shit all day. Not in a mean way, just in that insufferably smug, teasing way of his—full of himself, playful, with that infuriating smirk that made you want to roll your eyes every five minutes.

He had mocked you at breakfast, laughed when you almost dropped your phone in the pool, made fun of your music taste while driving, and then absolutely destroyed you in every game you played together, just to rub it in your face afterward.

And you? You didn’t argue. Didn’t snap back. Didn’t even give him the look.

You just let him be.

But now, in the dim light of your bedroom, it was your turn to play.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, Lando barely looked up from his phone. But then you let the towel drop, revealing your delicate, baby pink lace lingerie, and suddenly, he was very, very attentive.

His breath hitched.

Already in bed, wearing nothing but sweatpants, he sat up instantly, eyes dragging over your body like you were the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen.

— Fuck... — he muttered, reaching out to touch your waist.

You took a step back.

— No.

Lando blinked.

— What?

— You heard me. No.

Your voice was soft but firm, and the confusion on his face was almost amusing. His brows knitted together as he tried to figure out if you were messing with him.

— But, baby... — He tried again, reaching for your wrist, only for you to pull it away. — What did I do?

You crossed your arms, tilting your head slightly with an almost smug smile.

— You were an asshole all day, Lando.

— No, I wasn’t! — he defended himself immediately, then hesitated. — Okay, maybe a little bit. But you didn’t even say anything!

— Exactly. I saved it for now.

The panic in his eyes was delicious.

— Oh, no, baby, come on… — He crawled to the edge of the bed, desperate to pull you closer, but you dodged him, walking over to the mirror to let your hair down, acting as if he weren’t even there.

— You should’ve thought about that before being an insufferable little shit all day.

Lando groaned, running a hand down his face.

— Okay, okay, I was a dick. I’m sorry, alright? I swear—

— No.

The word was firm, and yet, laced with something so teasing, so damn tempting, that he shivered. His eyes darkened as he watched you turn toward him, leaning against the dresser, your posture relaxed despite the tension in the air.

— I’m gonna lose my mind — he groaned, gripping the sheets. — You look so hot, and I can’t even touch you?

You laughed, finally walking toward him, stopping right in front of where he sat on the bed. His eyes roamed slowly, drinking in every detail of the lace, the soft curves of your body, the way your lips curled into that victorious little smile.

— Goodnight, baby — you whispered, leaning in just enough for your lips to almost touch his… and then you pulled away, moving to your side of the bed.

Lando cursed under his breath, falling back onto the mattress with a frustrated sigh.

— I hate this — he grumbled, turning to face you in the dark. — But I also love it.

You smiled against your pillow, feeling the heat of his stare on your skin.

He might’ve been a cocky little shit all day, but right now? Right now, he was just a desperate man in your bed.

And nothing was sweeter than that.

----

[azzifuddslover]

UNRAVEL - chapter six

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

tw: swearing, light sexual content (not much detail)

themes: angst, jealousy

word count: 6.7k

a/n: um… hey! first of all, i’m so sorry for disappearing for like a month. school has been kickin my ass 🥲 anyway, i have been contemplating continuing this series and was so convinced i’d never write again. obviously i decided against that! this chapter really started pickin up the pace and WHAT ABOUT IT. please go easy on me i understand this is awfully written, but keep in mind i haven’t actually wrote anything since early january. lemme know how y’all feel about this chapter, maybe even share ur live reactions? i would love that! enjoy and happy munch madness pookies

soaking up the high of an absolute blowout of a game, paige and azzi walk giddily to the blonde’s apartment, with paige leading the way. their giggles echo throughout the hallway matched with ear to ear grins. paige casually unlocks her apartment door, glances over her shoulder and pulls azzi into the open space by her jersey.

azzi lets out a louder laugh, her dimples popping out as she stumbles into the room. paige places both hands on either side of the brunette, keeping her stable and balanced.

“you played so good today,” paige tells her, locking eye contact.

azzi smiles, her cheeks flushed from both the game and their proximity. “you think so?” she teases, raising an eyebrow.

paige’s grin grows at her comment, her eyes softening as she leans in, pressing her lips gently to azzi’s cheek. she moves her hand to cup the back of her head, holding her closer. the contact is light but warm, only causing azzi to flush more.

“yeah,” paige whispers, her voice lower, “you were incredible.”

azzi’s grip on paige’s shirt unknowingly tightens, her body mere inches away from the blonde’s. she ducks her head, suddenly shy.

paige steps backward, dragging azzi with her until they’re both seated on her bed— close enough that their thighs are full on touching. paige’s hand never leaves azzi’s frame.

azzi opens her mouth, eyes searching paige’s face. after a moment of hesitation, she closes it, unsure how to approach this topic.

paige notices— of course— and scrunches her eyebrows. “what’s wrong?”

“what, nothing,” azzi shakes her head, “i just need to tell you something.”

trying not to jump to conclusions, although she can feel her heart begin to race, she says, “okay.”

azzi loosens her grip on paige’s shirt, “someone asked me out on a date.”

definitely not what paige expected— worse, even. “a guy?”

azzi waits a moment before nodding, her lips creating a line.

paige feels a knot form in her stomach, the words hitting her harder than they should— as her best friend. she forces herself to remain calm, her eyes flicking to azzi’s face, searching for any sign of how she’s feeling about it. “what’d you say?”

azzi’s expression is unreadable as she glances away, almost ashamed in a way. “i said yes,” she whispers, “his name’s tyler, he’s pretty nice.”

paige nods, plastering a soft smile on her face regardless of her disappointment. “that’s great, azzi. really. i’m happy for you,” she says, though her voice doesn’t quite match the enthusiasm she’s attempting to project.

azzi looks at her, clearly noticing a subtle shift in paige’s tone. she bites her lip, her gaze continuing to flick between her friend’s face and the floor. “thank you, p,” she mumbles.

silent for a minute, paige clears her throat, “‘course, az,” her voice is gentle. she shifts slightly on the bed, creating a small distance between her and the brunette.

“i think you’d like him,” azzi speaks up, “he’s really sweet. good looking, too,” she exhales a weak laugh.

paige only hums in response, looking down. “maybe,” she agrees, “if you’re happy, that’s all i care about. i just want you happy.”

azzi’s heart swells in her chest at the sincerity behind paige’s words. god. she scoots closer, their thighs brushing against each others once again. the brunette leans in, connecting her full lips to the area below paige’s ear, staying there a second longer then she should.

a pleased sigh escapes paige’s lips, her body tensing from the unexpected closeness.

“love you, p,” azzi mutters, quiet enough that paige is unsure if she said it at all.

instead of responding, paige turns toward azzi, offers a kind smile and stands. “alright, come on,” she holds her hands out for the younger girl; when their hands meet, she tugs her up into a standing position. “let’s get showered and then we can grab some food. sound good?”

azzi nods, already thinking of the food she’s been craving. she feels paige squeeze her hands before dropping them, turning away to find some comfortable clothes.

going through the motions, paige cannot help but feel a sense of unease settle in her chest. it’s not a full blown feeling, but more of a quiet, nagging discomfort she can’t quite shake. azzi has a date. azzi. her best friend. her azzi— going on a date with someone that’s not her.

she shallows dryly, making primal effort to shut these feelings down. it fails, to say the least. her mind continues to wonder back to azzi’s words, almost in a haunting manner. someone asked me out on a date. fuck.

after paige and azzi had dinner, enjoying each others company and having unnecessarily long conversations, azzi heads off to her room she shares with caroline.

paige brushes a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear and sighs, her mind racing with the way azzi had smiled at her and her soft giggles that make her stomach flutter for no reason at all. she takes a deep breath, suddenly deciding to pull out her phone and text nika.

p: i’m coming over

the walk is short before paige is standing at nika’s door, knocking lightly— she pushes the door, finding it open, entering without waiting for a response. nika looks up from where she’s sitting on the couch, scrolling on her phone.

“hey,” nika nods once, “what’s up?”

the blonde crosses her arms, trying to appear more casual than she really is. “azzi has a date,” her voice betrays her by cracking on the last word, the sudden tightness in her throat making it sound much weaker than intended.

nika raises her eyebrows, obviously shocked at paige’s statement. “a date? with who?”

paige shrugs, “a guy named tyler. i don’t know, she didn’t go into much detail— just said ‘he’s nice, i think you’d like him,’” she scoffs softly, her voice growing quiet, “like i could ever fucking like someone who’s after azzi.”

nika knowingly smirks, playing with the tips of her brown hair. “why not? i thought you said she’s your best friend— nothing more. what happened to that?” she tilts her head, teasing her friend.

paige’s cheeks flush, her gaze dropping to the floor. “cmon, nik,” she mutters, leaning her head against the wall, “i don’t know— it’s complicated, okay? i mean, she is my best friend. but sometimes, it’s just more than that. i hate it.” (she loves it.)

the croatian’s expression softens, feeling paige’s frustration radiating off her. she sets her phone down, leaning forward slightly. “you know, it’s okay to admit it, p. everyone can see how much you feel for her.”

a shaky breath escapes the blonde’s lips, her eyes shutting for a second. “fuck,” she mumbles, embarrassment washing over her features. “is it really that obvious?”

nika smiles, her voice gentle. “yeah, it is, but that’s not a bad thing, paige. it just means you’re human— you’re allowed to feel this way.” she pauses, letting the words settle for a moment. “you don’t have to figure everything out all at once, take your time. but i’m always here whenever you need me, you know that, right?”

paige walks towards nika, taking a seat next to her on the couch. she squeezes her friend’s hand, conveying her appreciation. “thank you, nik.”

“always,” nika nods, “and if it makes you feel any better about this whole date thing, azzi hasn’t mentioned him to any of us. if she likes him so much, don’t you think she’d at least tell caroline?” she raises an eyebrow, eyes widening slightly.

paige tilts her head in thought, “caroline doesn’t even know?”

“not that i’m aware of,” nika replies, “so i’m sure she doesn’t like him too much. plus, i’ve seen the way she looks at you. you can’t fake that, lemme tell ya.”

paige meets her friend’s eyes. “what way?” she asks, her voice curious.

the corners of nika’s lips curve into a grin, “like you hung the goddamn moon. she loves you, p.”

paige exhales quietly, her gaze dropping. “she wouldn’t go on a date with someone else if she loved me,” she suddenly rises from her seated position, heading for the door. “thanks, nika. i’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

the croatian nods once, understanding that paige needs to be alone right now. “see you, paige.”

with a final glance over her shoulder, paige offers a small, appreciative smile before stepping out and into the hallway.

the walk back to her room is silent, but her mind continues to drift back to azzi— her best friend, the one she trusts and loves most, and now, the one with a date.

why can’t azzi see it? why can’t azzi see her? she’s willing to do anything for her, yet here she is, going out with someone else. a guy, to make matters worse. paige would fucking climb mount everest in the dead of winter, down, and up again, just for azzi. all for her.

flopping onto her messy bed, she stuffs her face into a pillow— she screams.

you could hear the obnoxious chants and cheers of the gampel pavilion all the way in the locker room, where the uconn women’s basketball team prepares for their game. the excitement outside was palpable, but inside, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation.

paige leans against her locker, eyes scanning her teammates who were also getting ready until they found a set of very familiar brown eyes. azzi only offers a half smile which paige doesn’t return.

the two haven’t spoken— besides easygoing conversations during practices— in a few days, ever since azzi left paige’s room after mentioning her date. they haven’t even texted, which they’ve done everyday since meeting during USA basketball all those years ago. it’s unusual— azzi hates it.

the brunette breaks eye contact, looking down to tie her shoes. her pulse is steady, yet her thoughts are pure chaos. why wasn’t paige talking to her? did she say something to upset her?

a loud cheer from the stands outside broke her from the over consuming thoughts. azzi glances up only to find paige’s eyes still dead set on her, unwavering. the sophomore didn’t look away. she couldn’t.

without breaking eye contact, paige slowly tugs her shirt off, revealing her toned stomach and her, only in a sports bra. the motion was deliberate, controlled, almost in a teasing manner. azzi’s cheeks flush, her gaze flicking down to her chest, then back up to paige’s face.

paige, making sure to keep her eyes on azzi’s, slips on her jersey, then her warm up shirt over top. she makes it a point to move slow, liking azzi’s gaze on her— liking it even more when that gaze lowers.

paige was enjoying this— enjoying how azzi’s eyes that she loved so much seemed to follow her every movement. even when paige finished dressing, azzi’s eyes momentarily fell again, soaking in the sight of paige.

quickly, however, paige straightens, her focus shifting entirely. she tied her shoelaces and was out of the locker room before anyone else, leaving azzi behind, and speechless.

this is going to be a long game.

driving towards the basket, the sound of the ball bouncing on the floor floods paige’s ears.

she throws it up, getting hit on the arm. the whistle blows instantly as the ball swooshes through the net.

“yeah p!” kk yells, holding her hand out for a high five.

the players on the floor huddle paige, who continues to gather her breath. azzi hesitates to take the place next to paige, but nods in her direction regardless. “nice shot,” she tells her, her voice light.

paige exhales before placing a hand on azzi’s lower back, just above her waistband. it’s a gesture she uses with all their teammates, yet it speeds up the pace of azzi’s heart nonetheless.

paige easily makes the free throw, and the game resumes to their usual quick momentum. azzi makes most of her shots, only missing two off of bad passes while paige collects 23 points off midrange jumpers and driving layups. the two get pulled out during the fourth quarter, both out of breath but satisfied with their game tonight.

“you played well,” paige notes, nodding once at the younger girl.

azzi— still flustered at their little moment in the locker room— glances at paige, cheeks turning a light shade of red at the compliment. “thanks. you did, too,” she responds, choosing her words carefully.

paige’s gaze lingers on azzi for a beat too long, taking in her features that are coated in sweat— yet she manages to still look good.

the two watch the game in silence, not bothering to continue their conversation. they focus on the players that usually don’t play, hyping them up and cheering whenever their shot falls. it isn’t until azzi decides she’s had enough that she speaks up.

“are you mad at me?” she asks, making sure to keep her tone causal and calm. she doesn’t want to upset paige further by raising her voice.

paige scrunches her eyebrows, clearly caught off guard at her sudden question. “what, no? what makes you think that?”

azzi offers her a half shoulder shrug, “i don’t know. we haven’t talked lately; it makes me think i did something to upset you.”

“az,” paige mumbles, feeling guilty over their lack of communication over the course of the last few days. “i promise, i’m not mad. i could never be mad at you.”

with that, she scoots her leg closer, thigh coming in contact with azzi’s. she doesn’t bother meeting her eyes— although she can practically feel her staring, the silence thick between them.

azzi takes it a step further by resting her arm around paige’s chair, her fingers beginning to play with the tips of her blonde hair.

paige’s tenses, but relaxes almost as quickly, unable to ignore the warmth blooming in her chest. she tries to keep her focus on the game, but it’s difficult to ignore the way azzi lightly tugs at her hair, the soft pressure somewhat comforting.

the game winds down with the team leading by double digits. the final buzzer goes off— the team lines up, high fiving the opposing team and offering the usual “good games.”

on their way back to the locker room, after spending a couple minutes with fans and the media, paige finds herself only a couple feet behind azzi. she quickens her pace, jogging up to her best friend and throwing an arm around her shoulders.

azzi stumbles forward a little at the unexpected weight hitting her. she laughs, not hesitating to wrap her own arm loosely around paige’s waist, her fingers gripping the jersey ever so slightly.

“hi,” paige giggles, a smile clouding her serious expression that was once there.

“hey,” azzi says, her eyes immediately finding paige’s.

“wanna go to mine?”

azzi unintentionally bites her lip, nodding rapidly. paige laughs at azzi’s eager reaction and squeezes her shoulder gently.

the two make their way back to the locker room, never breaking contact. they slowly pack their bag, stuffing their shoes in along with other gear they brought.

kk nudges azzi, catching her off guard, “az, you see the coach’s face when you hit that three right in front of him?” she laughs, recalling the memory. “that’s cinematic, if you ask me.”

“i would’ve quit coaching if i were him,” ice points out, joining in on the laughter.

azzi quietly chuckles, although she’s missed the opportunity to look at his face, like they were saying.

paige, looking proud as hell, wraps her arm around her shoulder like she had before, holding her closer this time. “aren’t you guys glad i got her to come here?”

“oh please,” azzi tilts her head towards the sophomore, “i didn’t come here just for you.”

paige quirks an eyebrow, barely holding back a laugh, “okay, az, sure.”

“i didn’t, asshole!” azzi exclaims, half serious, half sarcastic. she shoves paige by the arm.

paige steps back, “mhm,” she hums, continuing to tease her.

but azzi just rolls her eyes, deciding not to entertain paige. she finishes her bag and throws it on her back before walking out and into the hallway, with paige on her trail— like usual.

she cannot help but hear paige’s annoying giggles coming from behind her. she turns her head mid walk, throwing paige a swift glare, only causing more chuckles out of her.

their walk to paige’s dorm isn’t long, but enough to make azzi throw herself on the older girl’s bed, groaning as she lays face first into the soft comforter. after a moment of silence, she turns on her side, letting out a little sigh.

paige watches her, blue eyes roaming the length of azzi’s body all laid out on her bed. she tosses her bag to the corner of the room before walking towards azzi, laying besides her, on her back.

azzi licks her lips. fuck, did she look good.

“i missed this,” paige breaks the comfortable silence while adjusting her position, now facing azzi.

“missed what?”

“us hanging out like this— talking. just me and you,” she explains, quietly. “i missed you.”

azzi, nervous all of a sudden, smirks, “wow, you’re dramatic. it was only a couple of days.”

azzi’s words hang in the air. paige’s expression shifts from soft to irritated at azzi’s response. she pulls herself up into a sitting position on the edge of her bed, her face scrunched in annoyance. “okay, forget it then.” she crosses her arms, her tone sharper than it once was. she adds, “sorry for missing my best friend, i guess.”

azzi follows paige’s movement and sits up as well, scooting a tad closer. although her tiny smirk still remains, she can tell paige is actually a little frustrated. “i was only messing around, p,” she says, “i missed you too. i miss you after not talking for a hour. i always miss you.” she reaches out, squeezing paige’s hand in hers.

azzi rests her other hand against paige’s neck and jaw area, and not giving paige a chance to reply, the younger girl leans in, pressing a featherlike kiss to the side of her head. the another— delicate, slow— on her cheekbone.

azzi leaves a trail of wet kisses down paige’s face, continuing down her neck like she’s done so many times before. she adjusts her hand— that’s still in paige’s— to rest on the blonde’s stomach, feeling her abs under her shirt.

a sigh of pleasure escapes paige, her eyelids fluttering shut. azzi’s fingertips tease the bottom of paige’s shirt, traveling slightly in, grazing her bare stomach.

“azzi,” paige whispers.

azzi hums against her skin, never disconnecting her mouth from paige’s flesh.

without another word, the older girl shifts completely, moving her body to face azzi once again. azzi— not expecting the quick movement— jerks back, but paige is fast to react, grabbing her nape and pulling her in. their lips meet and paige knows. knows this is exactly where she’s supposed to be, forever. with azzi, touching azzi, kissing azzi.

azzi can’t help but kiss her back, desperate and sloppy. they’ve kissed before, but this time around feels different. maybe it’s the intensity, the buildup— or perhaps it’s paige’s murmured words, barely audible for her to hear.

“fuck, az,” paige mumbles between kisses, “you feel so good.”

paige focuses on the sensitive spot on azzi’s jaw, sucking as her hands find themselves underneath her shirt, on her bare hips. azzi groans in pleasure, her head tilting back, granting paige better access.

the minute paige removes her lips from azzi’s jaw, the brunette is quick to remove her own shirt, throwing it off to the side. she’s left in only a sports bra— paige’s eyes widen, her cheeks redden.

paige doesn’t wait any time attacking azzi with another messy kiss, this time incorporating her tongue, swiping it over her bottom lip. her hands explore azzi’s body, fingers tickling her skin.

“you’re so goddamn beautiful,” paige murmurs, “my god.”

azzi falls back on the bed, dragging paige with her. “you’re beautiful,” she whispers against her lips.

the heat between them intensifies. their pace picks up as they begin removing each article of clothing, starting with paige’s shirt, exposing her toned muscles. next comes azzi’s sports bra, leaving her in nothing but her basketball shorts.

paige’s mouth wanders, sucking and kissing her way down azzi’s laid out body— all for her. she doesn’t stop until azzi’s nipple is fully against her lips, dark and peaked.

“jesus, baby,” paige mutters. her hand sneaks down to azzi’s waistband, ready and waiting patiently (impatiently) to yank it down.

the use of the nickname makes azzi shutter undoubtedly. this is everything, she thinks. paige is everything.

encouraged by the little sounds azzi makes, paige gently tugs at her shorts, as if to ask for permission. when she receives a frantic nod in response, she slowly pulls them off her, taking her panties too before tossing both into an unknown corner of her room.

her eyes revert back to azzi’s body, laid out completely bare on her bed. for her. jesus, paige could almost cry from happiness— she’s wanted this for so long, it’s hard to remember a time where she didn’t.

she leans forward yet again, pressing a closed mouth kiss to azzi’s now swollen lips. “i love you,” paige whispers so faintly azzi wonders if she imagined it, “i swear to god, i love you. so much.”

azzi stills. was it just sex talk, or did she actually love her? she genuinely couldn’t tell— but she wasn’t about to question it now.

(paige means it, though. from the depths of her soul— with everything in her, she means it. if this isn’t love, than what is?)

azzi allows paige to continue her trail of wet kisses down the length of her frame, licking and leaving marks that’ll appear tomorrow. when she reaches her glistening clit, paige glances up. “ima make you feel good, okay?”

azzi meets her gaze. “okay.”

and she does.

they don’t talk about it much after it happens. they choose to go back to pretending as if nothing had happened— like they didn’t completely come apart for one another, kiss every inch of each other’s bodies.

the two continue their normal routine, eating breakfast with the team, having the usual conversations. they share minimal words, hardly ever looking one another in the eye.

caroline notices, of course. she pulls azzi aside during practice while the others work on their personal drills. “az, what’s up with you and paige?”

azzi tenses at her name. “huh? nothing— what makes you think that?”

caroline raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “you two have been avoiding each other all day— not even looking when the other passes by. did something… happen?”

azzi holds her breath, knowing she can never lie to caroline. she adverts her gaze to the opposite side of the gym, where paige is practicing with kk and ice. her heartbeat intensifies, recalling the memories from the following night. her delicate tough, her teasing tongue, her soft lips. her everything.

“no need to say anything, i think i already know,” carol smirks, eyeing both paige and azzi.

azzi instantly feels heat rush up her neck, reaching her cheeks. she decides to play it as cool as she can, “nothing happened between me and her,” she replies, hoping and praying her voice remains stable, “in fact, i have a date tonight.”

caroline’s jaw drops the littlest amount, obviously not expecting her to say that. “a date? with who?”

“tyler— he’s in one of my classes. he’s cute. sweet,” she smiles.

“hm,” caroline hums. she doesn’t know what to make of this situation.

“what?” azzi questions her friend.

carol shakes her head, “nothing. i just didn’t know you dated.”

azzi shrugs, “not really— but it’s one date, it won’t hurt. i’m willing to give him a chance.”

“right,” caroline mumbles. “didn’t really expect it to be with him, though,” she adds, her voice quieter than before.

“then with who?” she asks louder, her tone sharp.

caroline curls her lip, looking away as if the answer it obvious. “oh, maybe just with a certain blonde standing a few feet away from us,” she explains, “the one you label as your ‘best friend,’” she quotes with her fingers.

azzi’s jaw practically drops at the insinuation, her heart suddenly racing. she definitely didn’t expect carol to go there— especially with such a pointed, targeted tone. her face flushes with a mix of shock, disbelief, and something she can’t quite place, but it’s enough to make her stiffen.

eventually she sighs, not even going to argue with her friend. “whatever, carol,” she says, giving up. “you might think you have everything figured out, but i can assure you, you don’t.”

caroline holds up her hands in surrender, shrugging her shoulders in the process.

what does she know, azzi thinks. she doesn’t know anything about them— none of them do.

azzi exhales, rubbing her hand on her forehead. she decides to switch the topic away from paige, “anyway, can you please help me pick an outfit for tonight? you know how indecisive i am.”

she laughs, her expression softening a bit. “‘course az, that’s what i’m here for.”

azzi smiles, thankful she dropped the previous subject. her and carol begin discussing potential outfit ideas as they continue practicing. however, her mind can’t help but wonder back to the blonde across the room— the one who’s gaze keeps flicking to her every now and then. how does paige feel about the date? does she care? azzi cuts off those thoughts, trying to focus on wrapping up practice and then when the time comes, tonight.

while applying light makeup to her face, azzi hears a gentle knock on her dorm door. she figures it her roommate, caroline, coming back from grabbing dinner, but when she turns the knob, paige is standing there, dressed in her pajamas.

paige stills at the sight of azzi. she’s in a tighter fitting, black shirt paired with light washed jeans. she has on her go-to heart necklace, along with silver hoops in her ears. the outfit highlights the curves of azzi’s body— paige knows she’s staring, yet she can’t seem to tear her eyes away.

“what’s up, p?” azzi offers a kind, small smile in her direction, moving aside to let paige in her room.

paige strolls in acting like she owns the place. she allows herself to look azzi up and down once more, silently admiring her utter beauty.

“hey,” paige says finally, eyes finding azzi’s as she sits on the edge of her bed.

a moment of awkward silence passes until the brunette speaks up, “did you… need something?”

“nah, just bored,” paige shrugs, “i forget you had a— y’know, date.”

azzi’s eyebrows quirk upwards, not entirely surprised at paige’s forgetfulness. “yeah, i’m leaving in a few minutes, actually.”

“oh,” paige mumbles. she shallows. “okay, well, i should get going then.”

she stands, making an effort to move for the door, but azzi stops her with a hand gripping her arm. she turns, facing the younger girl.

“wait,” azzi breaths. her eyes scan paige’s face, “you sure you’re good?”

paige’s lips curve into a soft smile, making her best effort to mask her disappointment. “yeah, az, i’m good.”

azzi nods, “okay, just making sure.”

before thinking it through, paige steps closer and reaches out, playing with a few curls on her head. azzi freezes and suddenly becomes acutely aware of her grip on paige’s arm, still lingering on her warm skin.

“have fun on your date,” paige smirks, watching her closely— a little too closely. “you look stunning, az.” (if he doesn’t take you home, i will, she wants to add, but doesn’t for obvious reasons.)

azzi’s heart flutters in her chest at her words. paige always knew how to make azzi absolutely crumble. “thank you,” she whispers, her gaze unintentionally flicking to her lips.

with one good last look at azzi, paige turns and exits her dorm without another word passed between them. she said all she should, and that was enough.

tyler was, in fact, pretty sweet— and definitely not unpleasant to look at. azzi rests her face in her hand, eyes solely focused on the man in front of her.

he laughs at something she said, his smile warm and genuine, and for a moment, azzi wonders if she’s actually enjoying herself. maybe this would be good for her, being with someone like him. she wasn’t necessarily disgusted at the idea.

his laughter calms and eventually, he flips the subject, asking her questions about herself. “so, you play for the women’s basketball team, right?”

“yep,” azzi nods, her smile lingering.

“how’s the season going? i haven’t been able to catch a game yet.”

he actually seemed interested. “so far so good. i personally think i could work on some things, but overall, pretty good.”

“that’s good to hear,” he nods as he takes a sip of his drink of choice— a classic coca cola.

“what about you? what types of things are you interested in?” azzi questions, tilting her head in her hands.

“well, i’m really into photography…” he goes on, but azzi’s mind drifts once she feels a faint buzz against her leg. a text message.

she sneakily glances down, noticing it’s from, of course, paige. who else? she takes a better look, finally reading the message itself.

p: u forget ur bra in my room

azzi’s breath hitches in her throat. tyler continues talking, oblivious to azzi’s shift in focus. but azzi can hardly concentrate on his words now. she stares at her phone, the text from paige blinking back at her— almost taunting, in a way.

she immediately feels a flush creeping up her neck she tries, and fails, to compose herself. fuck. now, of all times, paige decides to bring it up?

making the quick decision to ignore paige’s text, azzi clears her throat. “sorry… my mom texted,” she says, offering a tight-lipped smile.

“no worries. everything alright?” he grins back, not aware her unease.

“everything’s perfect,” she replies, leaning in to sip her water.

the two revert their conversation into talking about their hobbies, interests, personal goals for the future. azzi shares how she plans to reach the wnba level, while tyler explains his hopes of becoming a sports journalist, where he can continue his passion for photography there.

mid laugh, azzi feels another buzz coming from her phone. she flips it to see another message from the persistent blonde.

p: u just gonna leave me on read? answer ur damn phone azzi

azzi, growing more and more aggravated, excuses herself from the table and heads in the direction of the bathroom. once she’s in a free stall, her fingers work away at the tiny keyboard.

a: r u serious right now? wtf

p: wdym

a: u know damn well what i mean. why r u texting me that while i’m out with someone else?

azzi lets out a deep breath, trying to keep her anger in check. of course paige would do this to her— it’s paige.

paige takes a little longer to reply than before. but when the message comes, it’s short and sweet, yet still has the ability to make azzi’s heart stop.

p: i miss u

goddammit. paige always does this, azzi really shouldn’t be surprised. she cannot help but feel bad for accepting this date. she shuts that thought down instantly— she deserves a chance at a relationship. she deserves this.

instead of replying with her typical “i miss you too,” azzi shuts off her phone, leaving her on read.

she walks out of the stall, applies a fresh coat of lip gloss in the bathroom mirror and heads back to their booth, more in control than she was when she left. she refuses to acknowledge paige’s snarky text tonight. tonight is about her getting to know tyler, getting a feel for him— giving him the chance he deserves.

by the end of the date, she does just that. she learns tyler is genuine, thoughtful, surprisingly funny as well as an overall good person. they exchange phone numbers and already start talking about a second date in the near future.

azzi even works up the courage to kiss him gently on the cheek when saying their goodbyes— she thanks him for the good night together before flashing him a smile, dimples and everything, and walking away feeling good about the outcome of this date. she really hadn’t expected it to go this well, but is grateful it did. although, paige still lingers in the back of her mind which she tries her best to ignore. this day was about her and tyler. not paige.

the following day, the uconn women’s basketball team had another game in the gampel pavilion. the fans were loud, the atmosphere was intoxicating, the players in blue were absolutely dominating the opposing team— like usual, when it came to the big east.

paige and azzi continued to remain on the outs, barely making any conversation, if any at all. their usual chemistry seemed distant, and the tension was evident whenever they shared the same space. the team noticed but, for the most part, chose to keep their distance, focusing on the game instead.

the game ended as fast as it started, with uconn winning by 46 points. azzi collected 20 of her own, while paige had a solid 24. their automatic passes to one another was off tonight— that is, whenever they’d actually pass the ball to the other. it wasn’t necessarily intentional, paige thought. it seemed to happen naturally.

after the team had showered and changed into comfortable clothes, they found themselves at ted’s, drinks already in hands.

azzi leans against caroline, planted in the corner of the room. she swirls her dirty shirley temple— paige got her hooked— with her straw, looking at the liquid move in the glass. she glances up in attempts to locate the blonde, to which she finds another familiar face: tyler. they lock eyes and smile at the other. when he makes an effort to walk over to where azzi sits, caroline notices and stands.

“you have fun,” carol says, walking away before she finds herself in an awkward position.

azzi laughs. she takes another quick swig of the drink, feeling it go down her throat. she bites her lip, anticipating tyler’s approach.

“hey azzi,” tyler greets her, a kind smile on his face. “long time no see.”

she giggles, “it feels like forever,” she drags out the word, in a sarcastic tone. “how are you?”

“pretty good, yeah,” he nods. “how bout yourself? how’d the game go?”

“i’m good, thanks for asking,” she replies, her voice soft. “wait, you knew we had a game today? i thought you didn’t keep up with basketball.”

tyler exhales a weak breath, feeling almost embarrassed. “i typically don’t… but you’re on the team, so i figured i should probably start.”

azzi raises an eyebrow, a grin playing at the corners of her lips. “that’s sweet of you,” she points out, her voice quieter.

their conversation continues, discussing the game in depth and the little mistakes azzi wished she could’ve perfected. she finds herself laughing more than she expects; tyler’s easygoing nature makes it difficult not to, and suddenly she feels a little more at ease than she had earlier in the night.

“maybe i should go to a game soon,” tyler brings up.

azzi’s face reddens the tiniest amount, “yeah, maybe you should—“

mid sentence, azzi feels a body collide with hers, causing her to stumble to the side a little— basically right into tyler. he holds out his hands, stabling azzi after nearly falling.

“oh my gosh, i’m so sorry,” a voice says, genuine and sincere. azzi knows that voice.

her gaze immediately find paige’s blue ones, who’s already looking her dead in the eye. paige’s line of sight flickers between azzi, to tyler, to his hand on her arm.

“oh, hi paige,” azzi speaks, her voice crackling a bit. she removes her grip from tyler’s touch, not wanting paige to see.

“az,” paige whispers, flustered and wide-eyed.

staring at the blonde in front of her, she finally pulls herself out of her trance and shallows. she looks at tyler, then back to paige. “this is tyler,” she introduces him.

“hi, nice to meet you,” tyler nods in her direction.

“hey.”

azzi clears her throat, “tyler, this is paige,” she begins before adding, “she’s my best friend.”

paige locks gazes with azzi as soon as her words tumble out of her mouth. “is that what we are?”

the words hang in the air, and everything seems to slow for a beat. azzi’s pulse quickens, her cheeks bright red at this point. azzi feels a knot in her stomach as she stares blankly at the sophomore.

azzi opens her mouth, yet nothing comes out. she shakes her head, in absolute disbelief at paige’s comment.

paige’s lips curl into a line. she hums at azzi’s response— her silence speaking for itself. she eyes tyler once more before shifting her gaze back to azzi, raising her eyebrows.

without another word being passed between them, paige turns on her heels and walk away, leaving azzi there, motionless. she takes off straight for the bathroom, setting her drink down on an open table in the process.

azzi watches as paige’s retreating figure vanishes around the corner, the sound of her footsteps fading into the background. she stands there, still frozen, the tension thick in the air. tyler, who’s been silent throughout their interaction, finally speaks.

“that was… intense,” he says, his voice a bit hesitant. “is there something going on between you guys?”

azzi shallows hard, her mind racing. “um,” she murmers, unable to look him in the eye. “maybe— i’m not really sure, to be honest.”

tyler gives her a sympathetic look, “maybe you should go after her. talk it out.”

azzi nods, finally snapping out of her daze. “yeah, probably. thanks, tyler, i’ll see ya.”

without waiting for another word, she walks briskly towards the bathroom, following the blonde’s trail. she pushes out the heavy door and steps inside, adjusting her eyes to the bright light. not immediately spotting paige, she raises her voice.

“paige?”

azzi’s voice echoes off the bathroom walls, but there’s no quick response. she steps further in, her heart pounding harder, nerves tightening in her chest. luckily the bathroom is empty, besides the closed stall at the very end. azzi brings her knuckles to the door, knocking gently.

“paige, please open the door.”

and she does— paige is standing there, shoulders shaking, eyes full of fresh tears. fuck.

“what?” paige asks, barely loud enough to be heard. her voice cracks and azzi swears her heart does too.

azzi doesn’t hesitate to lunge forward, pulling paige into her warm embrace. she wraps her arms around her waist, their bodies fully flush against the others.

paige stiffens but almost automatically relaxes against her body. she rests her head on azzi’s shoulder, with both hands tightly wrapped around her frame.

a few moments pass with nothing but breathes being exchanged. but the next words out of paige’s mouth makes azzi heart swell. “i can’t stand the sight of you with someone else, azzi,” she whispers in azzi’s ear. “i try to be as supportive as possible, for your sake— but i can’t anymore.”

“paige…” azzi pulls back, keeping her hands resting on the blonde’s hips.

paige wears a sad smile. she brushes loose curls out of azzi’s face, her fingers playing with the tips of them. she leans forward, placing a delicate, slow kiss on the side of her face. then another, in the same spot.

azzi’s breath catches in her throat as paige’s lips touch her skin. the contact is gentle, almost hesitant, but also warm and comforting in a way.

paige steps back, out of azzi’s grip. her eyes lower to the floor as she takes a shaky breath. she wipes her eyes quickly, trying to regain composure. “i’m heading back. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

she turns towards the door, her steps slow but purposeful. she hesitates for a second just before she exits, glancing back at azzi one more time. “have a nice night, az,” she says quietly, taking off.

she doesn’t.

[ambiguous-avery]

Sly Grins

Dean Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 1205

Summary: Dean’s down bad for a girl who isn’t even his. Then again... she’s not technically not his either...

Tags/Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, male masturbation, no use of Y/N, pining, PWP (Plot? What plot?), mentions of Sam (no wincest), no beta we die like men

A/N: Nothing like some good ol’ smutty smut to get me out of my writer’s slump. Again, trying to write and not get hung up on the details. This is meant as a companion piece to Careful Stares, and the reader is meant to be the same in both of them. Realized as I wrote this that there’s a very clear divide in the way I write Sam and Dean.

You weren’t his. Never had been. Never would be.

Dean had seen the way you looked at Sam. He could see it in the way you bumped shoulders with Sam when you were both studying. The way you would light up when Sam went on one of his nerd talks about the latest creature of the week. The way you picked up where he left off when it came to lore. Sometimes, Dean wasn’t sure where Sam ended and you began. And there was no way Dean had missed Sam’s careful stares when it came to you. He was sure you had never seen the way Sam would look at you while you read. He was honestly surprised Sam hadn’t made a move already. You were clearly into him. And more comfortable with Sam than you were with Dean.

It was because of that that Dean had never pushed for anything more with you. You were clearly good for Sam. And Sam was good for you. What kind of a shitty person would Dean be if he took that away from either of you? Everyday, it seemed like there was less and less good in the world. Might as well take solace in what little you could find.

That didn’t mean he didn’t want to be that good for you, though.

He let his head fall back against his pillow, taking himself in hand, eyes closing as he pictured your pretty lips wrapping around him. The way you’d use that silver tongue of yours to tease him until he was coming apart at the seams. But two could play at that game. 

“Dean,” you’d whine as he pinned your hips to the bed with one hand and sank two fingers into you. He’d have you so keyed up by that point that he could slide them in all the way up to the third knuckle in one easy motion. And when he found that tender spot inside you, you’d curl in on yourself, but Dean wouldn’t give you any reprieve. He’d follow you, pulsing his fingers against that spot until you were sobbing his name.

He groaned, low and deep, as he pictured you beneath him. Sweaty and shaking and satisfied. But still so far from being done. He’d leave red marks across your chest. Because he just couldn’t help himself. Your skin so sweet and soft that all he could do was sink his teeth in. But not enough to hurt. Of course not. Never to hurt you. He wanted to mark you. Claim you. Leave proof that you were his. And he’d happily let you do the same. Let you trace your tongue in the hollow of his neck. He could imagine you nipping at the column of his throat. He could be vulnerable with you. Because he knew you’d be good to him. You wouldn’t use that vulnerability against him.

And when you’d flip the script on him? He knew you would. There was no ‘if’ about it. When he had driven you to the brink of ecstasy, you’d tire of letting him stay in control. Your lips would meet his in a kiss with all the fire and fervor he saw in your eyes when you bantered with him. You’d wrap your fingers around him, drag a strangled gasp from him as you ran the pad of your thumb along the underside of his cock. 

“Where’s your big talk now, hmm?” You’d tease. “Hard to hear what you’re saying over all that moaning, Dean.”

There would be no coming back from that for him. There’d only be you, your touch, your words, your voice. His grip on himself tightened as he clung to the mental image of your hands on him. The way you’d look at him with darkened eyes, full of mischief and desire and want. He’d watch as you’d slide yourself over him, slick and hot, until he was fully inside of you. Like the two of you were puzzle pieces made to fit together. He rolled his hips, his cock pulsing in his hand as he leaned into the thought of how you’d feel around him. Of filling that tight, hot space until you shuddered around him.

“Dean,” you’d whisper, your voice thick with desire and want. “I need you.”

And he’d give you everything. Every ounce of his love, his devotion, his passion. Every scrap of himself that he’d willingly offer up to you. Because you were worth it. You were worth everything. You were worth more. And he’s never let go of that feeling - of being the one to make you feel desired. Cherished. Loved. To make you feel whole in a world that so often left him feeling shattered and alone.

His thoughts slipped. The mental image of you cozying up next to Sam in the Impala flashed through his mind. Jealousy twinged through his system. But it wasn’t jealousy out of possession. No. It was something more. Jealous borne from longing for something more.

Maybe Sam would share.

He stilled, inadvertently edging himself as the thought crashed into him. Where the hell had that thought come from? And why was it easier for him to run with it rather than shove the thought to the side? He had shared everything with Sam all his life. Would it be so much to ask Sam to share something of his for once? You had been with them long enough to understand the true weight of the world that each of them carried on their shoulders. There was no one else in the world quite like you.

Dean chased the thought away by picturing your eyes locking onto his, your gaze fierce and unyielding as you moved above him. The way your lips would part slightly as you gasped.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath as he felt the tension coil within him. Your nails on his scalp. Your legs astride his hips. The head of his cock grinding against the deepest part of you.

He could see it so clearly in his head – the way you would bite your lips and hold his gaze as you rode out your own pleasure. The way his name would come tumbling from your lips. How you would collapse against him, a satisfied smile playing on your features. He groaned, a low and guttural sound, as he came hard, painting a mess over his stomach and hand.

There was a heaviness to his thoughts as he came down from his high. As he laid there, catching his breath and trying not to focus too much on the idea of you cuddling up next to him, a frown tugged at the corners of his mouth.

He wasn’t allowed to do that again.

His fantasy had felt too intimate. It had been too full of emotions. Too personal. Like a horrible invasion of privacy. It wasn’t fair to you. He needed to be careful. He couldn’t lose himself to those fantasies, no matter how much he wanted them to be reality, lest he risk losing you for real. But he’d be a liar if he said he wouldn’t keep a fragment of that imaginary-you tucked away in the recesses of his mind.

---

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Dean taglist: @aylacavebear @globetrotter28 @jollyhunter @bettystonewell @supernotnatural2005 @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @maddie0101

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[cinnamonnbby]

.NSFW MDNI.

ADMIRABLE VI X TREASURED READER HC

cw: subfemme!reader X dom!vi, fingering but it’s not straight up implied, guided masturbation, biting, scratching, tribbing, that’s kinda it

Vi loves your body. no questions asked. every roll, every scar whether natural or not, she loves it. she adores every hair, every wrinkle, and every freckle. there’s nothing she enjoys more than when she’s on top of you and she’s able to look at every inch of your bare body. “god you’re beautiful,” she says, “I wish I could put you in a frame and stare at it all day.” you giggle under your raspy breath at her weird comment but it’s nothing unusual she hasn’t said before. your body is so intoxicating to her that when she tries to describe her feelings and thoughts nothing but messy and unfinished sentences leave her chapped lips.

Vi who is sure to help you recognize how beautiful you are, makes you sit at the edge of bed while she’s at your feet and tells you how to touch yourself. she isn’t very handsy, but instead focused on how you make yourself feel. “I want you to sit here and feel yourself, baby.” she slides off the edge of the bed, pulling your hips to the end. as she lowers herself and sits on her knees you open your legs. Vi doesn’t look at what’s there, instead she goes for your hand and places it where you’ve begun to feel your wetness spread. “like this.” she starts to gently trace your index and middle finger in between your cunt making sure they’re wet enough to glide over your desperate clit. “juuust like that….” her quiet voice trails off as she looks up with her puppy eyes to see how you react. she’s pleased to see your legs open as wide as they can, your back beginning to arch, and your hips start to roll into your own hand. soft moans leave you, the sound waves bouncing off Vi’s raised arm hairs. “keep going baby. I want you to understand how beautiful your body is.”

Vi knows exactly what you need and how you need it. she knows every single detail with how your mind works and how you show her that what she’s doing feels good. when words fail you, you turn to your own bodies help with expressing what’s happening inside you. as Vi pushes her fingers faster in and out, you start to get that non verbal, sickening feeling of pleasure begin to build up. “Vi…“ you attempt to tell her to keep going and to not stop, but your skin is hot and sweaty, your breathing so quick you’re light headed so that not much comes out in full sentences. you aren’t too worried about not saying anything because Vi has done this so many times that she knows exactly what do and what you mean when your words get caught in your dry throat. for instance, right this second you’re having a hard time telling her to not stop so your hands start to trail up her back, at first they’re light strokes but Vi has started making circles on your clit that put you in an immediate catatonia state. as you feel your core tighten, your stomach suck in to attempt to feel every stroke of your walls she leaves, your nails start to dig in deeper to her skin. Vi’s eyes dart up to your tired face, and she flinches at how your dull nails could be so sharp. “fuck baby. I know.” she immediately understands and goes faster, your legs opening as wide as they can, your hips starting to ache at the way they spread for her.

Vi has a sweet tooth, and you being her one and only cupcake means that the amount of love bites you get when she’s 6 feet deep in your guts is nothing new. she’s been thrusting herself onto you, your cunts fitting together like puzzle pieces. her favorite way to hold you, is having you laid down with your left leg to the side as she holds your other over her shoulder. you can feel her body start to twitch at the way your clit hits the most perfect nerves of hers. she thrusts harder, the sound of both of your wet cunts echoing into your ringing ears. her grip on your leg tightens, and her breathing is fast. she begins to turn beat red the moment she feels herself begin to tighten around nothing. you simultaneously begin to breathe faster attempting to match her. you start pushing your hips up into hers making sure you finish with her. you’re so close but just not there yet. Vi’s about to let loose of her pushed down orgasm, but when she sees you quite aren’t there yet, she pulls her head down and starts to bite the meaty part of your calf leaving two red bite marks, her vampirish canines being most noticeable in your flesh. you let out a yelp and your hips immediately buck up into her pelvis making Vi immediately gasp and cry out. her sounds only make your walls start to clench tighter before finally releasing all their tension. Vi chuckles because at the same time she begins to come on you, the wet sounds only becoming louder and messier. Once you both finish, your final moans beginning to soften, she kisses the bite marks, licks them, and then lowers your legs down, her free hand running across your lower stomach. you glide your hands up her arms, your hands clammy on her soft skin. Vi looks back down to you, kissing your chest and up your neck, “you really are sweet like a cupcake.”

————————————————————————

[heavens-crown]

And They Were Neighbors Pt.4

Warnings: 18+, heavy petting, sir kink, angst. fluff, Minors DNI

Master List

“A train derailed?” Delilah was stunned. She knew train derailments were bound to happen but jesus. 

“Apparently, I gotta head down there, they're going to want all hands on deck.” Robbied said apologetically. Mock frowning at him she simply grabbed his phone and inputted her number. 

“First off don’t apologize, second off if you need anything just call me ya?” Delilah’s heart was racing. This was the most forward she had ever been with a man and she wasn’t quite sure how it would be received. 

“Thank you Delilah, I’ll more than likely take you up on it.” Robby chuckled. Kissing her forehead he scooted past her to get ready. “Stay away from knives for the rest of the day.”

Feeling rooted to the spot she stared at the door he had just clicked shut behind him. Gently touching her forehead she felt as if her whole body was warm. Ok so maybe he really was flirting with her. Sitting back down on the couch she did the one thing that made sense. She called Cherry. 

“Girl you are not going to fucking believe what’s happened.”

Arriving at the pit Robby took a moment to look around. People were swarming everywhere getting patients moved upstairs, nurses and residents getting PPE pulled on. He took a moment to search for Jack, finding him talking to Gloria. Oh Joy. Jack spotted him and began briskly walking toward him. 

“Thank christ you’re here, admin has been driving me up a wall.” Jack yanked Robby into a hug before pulling back. Snorting quietly Robby just shook his head. He knew better than anyone that Jack was prone to his micro outbursts. 

“Any idea how bad it is?” He asked. Quickly getting into his own PPE Robby glanced around taking stock of who was here. Jack shook his head shrugging into his gear.

“No clue but from what we’ve heard initial reports aren’t looking bad but not great either. Apparently it was a cargo train that derailed and went into a building.” Jack said. 

“At this point I'll take what I can get.” Sirens were approaching the hospital. Everyone stood ready for what was about to be a chaotic few hours. 

Eight hours had passed since Robby arrived at the hospital and it had been a shit show. There were more victims than initially thought, some were injured so gravely that it’d be a miracle if they survived the night. The worst had been a little girl who had been crushed by rubble. Robby shoved it to the back of his mind. He couldn’t afford to think about it too hard or he’d crumble. Things had slowed down significantly with anyone who was critical being taken care of and moved to surgery or wherever they needed to be more. Taking a moment to drink some water he felt like he was under water. His ears were ringing and no matter how much water he drank it felt like his mouth was full of cotton. It took him a moment to realize Jack had been talking to him. 

“I’m sorry man, what did you say?” He asked. Jack watched him with a concerned look on his face. 

“I asked if you were ready to get out of here. Night shift just rolled in so we’re good to dip.” Jack was watching him with that look that said whatever excuse he came up with would be met with Jack’s classic ‘bullshit’ stare. 

“Uh ya, just give me like ten minutes?” Robby asked. Thankfully Jack didn’t ask for details and simply nodded. Walking into the staff lounge Robby sat down at the table staring into space. Part of him wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back out. The other part of him wanted to call Delilah despite the fact that it was already seven pm. The urge to call her won out and he was yanking his phone out of his pocket and pressing her contact. It rang three times before she answered. 

“Hello?” Delilah answered. Hearing her voice after this hellish shift felt like a balm on his mind. 

“Hey Delilah, it’s uh Robby.” Robby said. 

“Oh hey! Sorry I didn’t check my caller ID when you rang. You getting off shift?” God she was so bright and bubbly. Suddenly Robby felt as if he even breathed wrong everything would come crashing down. 

“Ya I am. I actually wanted to see if you’d be ok with me coming over? It’s just today…” Robby hesitated trying to find the right words. Delilah however didn’t skip a beat. 

“You’re always welcome over, in fact I am making some spaghetti and garlic bread for din-din as we speak. Since I can never portion pasta out correctly I'm definitely going to need some help eating it all.” She laughed. With that Robby felt his muscles relax and he released a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. 

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes if thats ok?” Robby asked. Delilah chuckled on the other end of the line. 

“That’s fine with me. I’ll see you when you get here.” With that she hung up. Letting out a breath Robby leaned back in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So who’s Delilah?” Jack asked from the doorway. Robby stood up grabbing his backpack from the floor. 

“She’s my neighbor,” he said simply. And right on cue was Jacks ‘bullshit’ stare. 

“Right. A neighbor that you’re almost begging to spend time with when you won’t even get a beer with me after a rough shift.” Jacked nodded to himself as if he had found the answer to a math problem. Robby rolled his eyes gesturing for Jack to head out of the lounge. Waving bye to the nurses and residents he found himself trudging toward the exit. 

“She just moved into the apartment next to me. She’s young so while I may like something to happen I can’t  just rely on body cues to assume she also wants something,” Robby said. Jack stared at him almost stunned for a moment.

“Ok tell me everything from the beginning,” He said. With a sigh Robby began recounting the past 24 hours. 

Delilah moved about her kitchen listening to music from her speaker. Her call with Cherry had been rather interesting, which meant it had been Cherry encouraging her to do crazy shit. Humming to herself she added the pasta sauce to the meat simmering in the pan. While that combined she went about draining the noodles and getting the garlic bread out of the oven. Just as she added the noodles to the sauce there were three sharp knocks at her door. Putting the pot back down on the stove she made her way to the door, opening it to find an exhausted Robby. 

“Hey! Come on in, you want anything to drink? I made a run to the store and got some wine to pair with the spaghetti,” She walked back into the kitchen while he dropped his backpack by the door. 

“Glass of wine sounds good. Or three.” He sounded exhausted. Humming along to the song she poured them both a glass of red wine. “I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time.” Delilah frowned at him. She set the glass down in front of him and simply looked at him. Then she flicked him in the forehead.

“What did I say about apologizing? You aren’t really taking up any of my time. I got a ton of work done today while you were out saving lives,” She smiled and walked back to the kitchen to plate up their food. 

“Did you have to flick me?” Robby grumbled. Shaking her head Delilah set his plate down in front of him. Sitting across from him at the table she gave him her most angelic smile.

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t spout stupid shit,” She quipped. He shook his head and dug into his plate of food. They ate in comfortable silence, the music providing good background noise to cover the sounds of eating and forks clicking on plates. 

“What did you do today? You stay away from knives?” Robby asked quietly. Laughing, she finished her bite of garlic bread before answering. 

“Well right after you left I did about six or so hours of work, ran out of charts to code so I decided to go to the store to get stuff for dinner. After that I went through all the requests for the art commissions and then started on dinner.” She said, Robby raised an eyebrow at her answer. 

“Sounds like you had a busy day. Any crazy art requests?” He asked. Delilah snorted and nodded her head. 

“Oh you wouldn’t believe the requests I get. Today I got a request for an OC and mothman in a BDSM dungeon,” Seeing the slightly horrified look on his face made Delilah laugh. 

“Mothman?” Was all he could get out. Delilah laughed harder especially when she saw that he still looked completely befuddled. 

“Believe it or not, that isn’t the weirdest thing I've ever been requested to draw,” Delilah took a drink of her wine. “You want to talk about your day or would you rather we just veg out on the couch and watch Bridgerton with me?” Robby blew out a harsh breath rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You promise I'm not being a burden?” Delilah glared at him. 

“I’m going to punch you the next time you say something stupid like that,” She declared. Biting back a laugh Robby sighed and gave her a small smile. 

“Are you always this violent with your friends?” He grumbled. Before she could respond he stood and grabbed the plates from the table. Sitting back cradling her glass of wine Delilah smiled at him. His grumpy tone made her stomach twist in a pleasant way. 

“Yes Sir, now that you’re officially my friend all bets are off.” Shooting him another smile she stood, refilling their glasses so they could move to the couch. 

Jesus christ she’s going to be the death of me, Robby thought. Hearing her say ‘yes sir’ in that sweet as honey tone made his stomach clench and he had to try to think of anything else so he wouldn’t pop a random erection like a hormonal teenager. As they sat on the couch she sat close to him and began getting Bridgerton up on the TV. He took a small sip of his win before settling it on the coffee table. 

“So give me a breakdown of Bridgerton, what's it about?” He asked. Delilah lit up and began rapid fire, throwing information at him. Truthfully he didn’t hear everything she said he was too busy watching her. Her eyes were bright and a smile accentuated her full lips, she was so animated when talking about something as simple as a TV show it helped the knots in Robby’s chest loosen. As the show started he found himself watching her more than the show. Throughout the episodes she would interject her own commentary on the characters or the plot. It was refreshing being able to just sit there and not be expected to solve someone's problems. It took him a moment to realize she was talking to him and not just about the show. 

“I love slow burns like this but I know that if I were in a situation like this I’d go crazy,” she said. “Like I don’t want someone to pine after me for years and then do some crazy proclamation of love. That shits tedious ya know?” She was looking up at him with a small smile on her face. The wine had a bit of a flush staining her cheeks and at some point her hair had come out of its ponytail and now framed her face. He wasn’t sure what spurred him on in the moment, if it was the alcohol clouding his judgment or the fact that with her so close he could smell the hint of vanilla from her lotion or some divine being forcing his hand. But the next thing he knew Robby had one hand cradling her cheek while he kissed her. 

Delilah gasped into the kiss and tensed for the briefest moment. Before he could pull away and apologize she kissed him back eagerly nipping at his bottom lip. A groan rumbled in his chest as he sunk his hand into her hair at her nape. She moved, never breaking the kiss to straddle his lap and settle herself there. Everything about her overwhelmed his senses, the way she ran her fingers through his hair lightly scraping her nails against his scalp. How her tits pressed to his chest as she tried to get as close to him as she could. The smell of her lotion and the soft skin of her thighs where he gripped her to keep her steady. She pulled back and he could see the flush on her face had deepened and her pupils had dilated. 

“I thought I was going to have to throw myself at you,” She murmured before pressing open mouth kisses to his jaw and down his neck. 

“I was trying to not be a pervy old man,” He responded grunting when she nipped his chin. Tugging hard on her hair he leveled a glare at her. “Watch the teeth little girl.” She gave him a self indulgent smile. 

“If you’re a dirty old man, what does that make me? Especially since I’ve been thinking some very inappropriate thoughts about you,” She said sweetly. His heart hammered in his chest at the very frank statement. Ignoring her question he just tightened his grip on her, enjoying the small gasp that escaped from her mouth. Robby pulled her back to him, this kiss rougher than the last. He nipped at her lip and when she let out a soft moan he slipped his tongue into her mouth. His free hand slid its way up the oversized shirt she was wearing to palm at her breast. He froze for a moment when he felt a metal bar going through her nipple. 

“You have your nipples pierced?” It wasn’t a question but a statement. Smiling at him she hummed and leaned back just enough to tilt her head to the side. 

“You want to see them?” She teased. His cock jerked at the invitation, and he had to stop himself from simply throwing her down on the couch and getting straight to it. 

“Fucking minx,” He groaned and sealed his mouth over the crook of her neck, sucking hard to leave a mark. She moaned again and snaked her hand in between their bodies to palm at his cock through his pants. “Careful, keep this up and I won't be able to control myself.” 

“Is that an order sir?” She hummed. He pulled away from her neck and locked eyes with her. He could see the challenging glint in her eyes and he felt the last thread of his control snap. Surprising her he moved quickly, pinning her back against the couch so he could hover over her. He settled his weight on top of her while shoving his thigh between hers to hold her in place. 

Keeping eye contact with her Robby ran his fingers along the waistband of her shorts. “Keep being a brat and I promise you won’t like what happens next.” He watched her carefully, gauging what she would do next. Surprising him she simply relaxed against the couch and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“Yes Sir,” she murmured, pulling him back down for another rough kiss. Robby pressed his thigh harder against her pulling a whimper from her. Pressing kisses across her jaw to her ear he nipped at her throat. 

“You want to ride my thigh, little girl? Or do you want something more,” he snaked one hand behind her head to get a handful of her hair gripping it tightly. She bucked her hips in response but he just shook his head at her. “Use your words.”

“I want you inside me,” she whimpered. “Your fingers, your cock anything.” A groan left his throat the way she was looking up at him. She sounded so needy and it took more effort than he’d like to not cum in his pants. Just as he sat up to yank her shorts off her phone began ringing on the coffee table. She groaned and grabbed the phone before frowning at it. 

“Answer it and tell whoever it is you're busy,” Robby said. He knelt between her spread thighs running his hands across them. Huffing she answered with a gruff hello. He watched as she tensed up and sat up a bit. 

“Is she ok?” She asked, worry evident in her tone. “Fuck ok i’ll be right there which hospital is she going to? Thank you,” She ended the call and looked up at him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he helped her sit up. Clearly on edge she took a shaky breath in and gripped his forearms.

“That was my grandmother's nursing home. She's being transported to the hospital.”

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A Female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Seventy One)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and is all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Seventy One: Y/N anxiety is at an all time high as she fears for Clíodhna in the wake of her struggles, but Cillian's fears and anxieties for his daughter seem to consume him more viciously than anyone anticipated they would. [Emotional/Angst/Medical fears surrounding care of preemie babies]

@cherrycilly @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @watermeezer @meadowshelby @strangeions @borntodiemp3 @lavender-haze-01

Swiftly proofread, sorry for the obvious typos (I know I always have silly ones but please forgive the ridiculous ones!)

“Y/N?” You startle as Imelda lays her hand against your shoulder, calling your name softly as she crouches close to your ear. “Sorry love,” she apologises quickly. You're not sure if you had dozed off for a moment or if you were just staring blankly at Clíodhna's incubator and had tuned everything out. “I didn't mean to make you jump.” She looks mortified to have frightened you. She crouches down fully, balancing on the balls of her feet, and rests her arms on the arm of the chair you're in. “Has Cillian gone to the loo?” She asks.

You glance back at Clíodhna for a second then give Imelda your full attention, focusing as much as you can on holding a conversation with her. “Um, no,” you shake your head, “I mean, maybe, but he - he went to call his sons, just to let them know what's happened.” You explain. You realise you're not sure how long Cillian's been gone now, so deep was whatever had come over you to take away your awareness of anything outside of keeping your eyes on your daughter. You frown, trying to read Imelda's expression. “What's wrong?” You quiz her.

Imelda takes a slow, deep breath in. “We've increased her oxygen slightly.” She says, and you know by her tone and the slightly sad frown that that isn't a good thing. Not that you need those cues - she'd been fighting against the breathing support before, and now the tube was more important than ever. Your heart thuds too hard in your chest. Imelda wets her lips and continues. “There's been a small spike in her temperature, too.”

You feel your eyes heat up as tears flood in immediately. “So she has…pneumonia?” You ask, “Even with the antibiotics?”

“The consultant is going to give her a full MOT, and listen into her lungs. But it's likely,” Imelda nods her head gently. “We can and we will adjust her antibiotics as needed, and continue to provide her all the support she needs to fight this off.”

You shake your head, “She's so small, she can't…” you purse your lips as your chin shakes uncontrollably. Imelda reaches her hand out and rests it against your shoulder once again. “Give me…odds. Statistics. Something!” You look directly at the young nurse. “She's three pounds, she's too small, she's too young… what are the fucking odds of her being able to fight this off?”

Imelda takes a steady breath in, “Y/N, each baby is different. She's shown her strength, and she is still doing that. Let's wait and see what Doctor O’Mahoney says, okay? When we know what the full details are, we can talk about what steps we take next and how we can help her the best. Doctor O’Mahoney is on her way, okay? And she'll give Clíodhna a head to toe exam and we'll map out a plan for her.” She squeezes against your shoulder then draws her hand back..she grips the arm of the chair as she stands back up to her full height.

“I need to find Cill…” you look back at Clíodhna's tiny, motionless body in the incubator. “I'll fucking kill him if he's out having a fucking…” you screw your eyes closed and cover your face with both hands as you fail to control the body-wracking sobs that seems to have every muscle. Imelda crouches down beside you again and rests her hand on your right thigh.

“I'll send Lucy, the HCA, to see if she can find him, okay? And I'll get you a cuppa and some tissues, okay, love?” She says in a gentle voice, then slowly stands again. “As soon as Doctor O’Mahoney, she'll be over Clíodhna.” You drop your hands and take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

She has a point - you need to know the facts - but she also wouldn't have approached with the concerns she had prior to confirming them with a doctor if she didn't believe you were about to be told your premature baby was fighting an infection now, too. As Imelda walks away you get to your feet, drying your cheeks with your hands as you stand. You dry your palms against the backside of your trousers as you walk closer to Clíodhna's incubator. You draw open the small porthole by her foot and place your hand inside slowly. You wrap your fingers gently around her tiny foot and smooth your thumb up and down the velvety soft pad, rubbing gently against her toes with each swipe upwards. Her skin is warm, and she is a little more pink than she had been when you'd arrived, but she still looks pale, and the disappearance of those little movements of her eyes and hands feels like a theft.

“Come on, tiny girl. Hey? My tiny, tiny girl. Listen to what Daddy said, yeah? Don't stop fighting now. I know it's hard, and I know you probably feel so poorly, but you can't throw the towel in, okay? You haven't met your brothers yet - you haven't met your Granny and Granddad, or your silly Uncle Páidi! And your beautiful aunties, and… and there's so many of Mammy and Daddy's friends who are so excited about you. Daddy's special friend Eileen - she was so happy when we told her about you. She has some stories to tell you about Daddy! And when you're bigger, and it's the right time, I'll tell you about my family and why you'll always be the most important girl and never see them. But your big brothers, Malachy and Aran, they really, really want to meet you soon. You'll love them - they're just your Daddy, and they're so funny and they're sweet, and kind. You need to tell them you don't have a penis!” You choke a sad laugh in your throat. “Daddy wants to take you to Cork - they talk funny down there, they practically sing at you! But your grandparents and your aunts and uncles are wonderful people. They have family dinners, and silly Christmas transitions. Your Daddy, he taught me so much about what it's like to have a good family; you're going to get that.” You whisper, and slowly swipe your thumb over her footpad again. “A good family, Clíodhna. A house filled with love and laughter, and music. And when you're old enough, we'll embarrass the life out of you with how I got pregnant with you. Daddy is one fertile man.” You sniff and shake your head. “There's so many stories, Clíodhna. Your Daddy is a film star - he's a wonderful actor, producer, an amazing spokesman, and writer, and he believes in people, Clíodhna. He's so beautiful. He sees people, for who they are. He believes in me for some reason. And I, little one, I believe you - I do. You're here against the odd, tiny girl, and I know you want to be here. So don't you dare stop kicking and screaming. Okay? I know it's probably hard, and you're tired, and it's so tough. But don't stop, okay? I need you, baby girl.”

You draw back your hand and bring it to your lips, placing a kiss against the pads of your index and middle fingers before placing your hand back inside and touching your kiss to her warm shin. You bring your hand back out and close the porthole back up. You steady yourself with another deep breath and then your head as the double doors swing open down the far end of the room. Cillian steps in, looking a little warm and flustered, with the middle aged HCA, Lucy, a step or two behind him. He looks around a moment and before he can walk towards you he is stopped in his tracks as Imelda approaches him. You stand rooted to the spot - you can't budge and you're not sure why. You watch his face intently as Imelda talks to him, and you clearly read each emotion that flutters over it. He's an open book, in private, at the best of times, but he's even more readable right now. He nods his head, touches his hand against Imelda's arm, and walks towards you with slow and heavy steps. He shakes his head as he halta beside the chairs beside the incubator and sighs heavily and noisily through pursed lips. He's silent for a moment, running his tongue over his back-set lower tooth idily. Anxiety is bubbling under the surface and it'll come out sooner or later, but for now he stims orally and moves his eyes over Clíodhna, then to you. He stills his tongue.

“There was a woman near the, eh..” he waves his hands as he grapples for the words, “The yokes…fuck sake, the doors. At the doors, when I was on the phone with Malachy.” He sniffs. “When I hung up from Mal, she said…” he scoffs, “She said, eh, ‘God bless your wee girl - may He keep her’.” He recounts. “What kinda God puts wee ones under this kinda stress? Eh?” He frowns at you. “What kind of God allows babies to be born too fucking early and then makes them sick? What kind of sick, fucking joke is that?” He shakes his head sharply. He thrusts his hands into the pockets of his jeans and sighs heavily again. He sniffs, and the oral stims begin again. He licks his bottom lip fiercely before assaulting his tooth with the tip of his tongue once again. He licks his lips once against and presses his lips shut firmly. He blinks slowly, and sort of half rolls his eyes in time with another heavy sigh. He wants to cry, but he's skirting around anger to avoid it. “Where's this fucking doctor?” He huffs.

You swallow against a painful lump in your throat. “Imelda said she's on her way.” You mumble, and cough to clear your throat.

“From where? Fucking France?” He snaps, and immediately huffa at himself knowing he's being arsey. He draws his hands free of his pockets and scrubs both palms over his face roughly before dropping his arms back down. He looks at you, looking totally hopeless, and shakes his head with another half roll of his eyes. “She didn't ask to be here, and now she's fighting against her own birth and fucking pneumonia…” he purses his lips tightly. He moves his lips, likes he's got more words to say but he doesn't know how. He huffs another breath and shakes his head again. He's lost, scared, absolutely consumed with anger and sadness, and his comparatively small body doesn't know what to do with all of the energy everything builds up inside of it. If he felt a heavy emotion at home, he might put music on and vacuum, or he would throw on his trainers and shove his earbuds in and go for a run, but here he's stuck with all of those feelings, no outlet, and the inability to do a thing beyond overthinking it all. He closes his eyes for a moment and, when he opens them again, his lashes are wet. He draws his bottom lip in between his teeth for a moment and looks back at you. The glassy blue of his eyes is shining under the dim lights on the ceiling tiles above, and the sadness is intoxicating in the worst way. “It's not fair to her.” His voice catches as he whispers.

You shake your head, and your own eyes blur as your tears restart. “No, I know it's not.” Your voice strangles in your throat.

He holds open his arms - he can't deal with his feelings alone anymore, and co-regulation and his much needed physical intimacy is his next attempt for making himself feel even a little bit better. You grant the hug immediately; you wrap your arms around him, under his arms, and place the flats of your palms against his back as he squeezes his arms tightly around your shoulders. He inhales deeply at the side of your face, and you sigh softly as she squeezes you tightly again. “All the fucking wires and tubes, and fucking…oth-other people touching her, I-I-I…” he stammers.

You shush him gently, “Shhh, I know love.” You tighten your arms, hearing the moment his tearfulness becomes open crying. “She's a fighter, Cill. A little warrior. And so are we. Yeah? We're going to fight it with her.” You sniffle over your own tears. His arms squeeze you once again by way of response. You slide your right hand up and turn your fingers through the waves at the nape of his neck. “Keep hold of your words to me, okay? Whatever happens.”

He nods his head and clears his throat, a macho way of attempting to stop himself from crying. He taps his left hand against your back, his silent end of intimacy, but he doesn't loosen his arms for a moment. You keep holding him. He sighs against your neck and taps his hand against your back again, then loosens his arms. As he lets go, you drop your arms down slowly. You stand face to face, breathing the same air for a second or two. “I love you.” He whispers, barely audible.

You smile sadly, “I love you, too.”

When she finally arrives, Doctor O’Mahoney isn't what you expected, though you're not really sure what it was you were expecting. She's in her forties at least, short and slim, with an angular face and short, auburn hair. She's pretty, with large brown eyes, and despite her surname she doesn't sound even the least bit Irish. Her accent is broadly American, though you wouldn't have a hope at naming a region. She gives amazing eye contact, and while she doesn't speak to you in doctor-speak, she also doesn't dumb things down or presume you're too stupid to catch her drift as she discusses her findings after assessing Clíodhna and reviewing the nursing notes. After washing her hands once she's finished her exam, she approaches you and Cillian - you'd been herded back just far enough that you were slightly in the dark about what was happening without being completely removed from your daughter. She eyes Cillian for a moment, and you know she's placing him in her mind without trying to be unprofessional. She smiles and brings her eyes to you for a second.

“I'm Charlie O’Mahoney. I know you've spoken with the nursing staff about the aspiration that your daughter had this morning.” She says, and looks at you both for a moment for confirmation. You nod as she speaks. “And they explained that a complication of aspirations is that it causes pneumonia?” You nod again, and Cillian inhales his whispered yes. “By the sounds of Clíodhna's left lung, there is some fluid build up there, and her blood work and pyrexia would also corroborate the concerns. She has already been started on antibiotics, and we'll adjust those to better compensate for the change in her presentation.” She explains clearly.

Cillian clears his throat. “What, um, what is the lookout here?” He asks.

“How do you mean?” Doctor O'Mahoney asks him, frowning a little.

“She's fucking tiny,” Cillian gestures his hand towards Clíodhna's incubator behind the doctor. “Pneumonia isn't.” He shrugs, and he's short tempered and quick mouthed. “What's the likelihood she's going to be able to fight this off?”

Doctor O'Mahoney softens her expression, “Premature babies are not predictable, Mister Murphy. I cannot promise you sunshine, nor can I tell you to prepare for the worst. Truly, all we can do is apply all measures we have to best treat her and support her, and hope for the best possible outcome.”

Cillian takes a deep breath and turns his head to you. “Degrees and-and fucking years of school, and I can't get a straight fucking answer about my daughter.” He grumbles towards you, teeth gritted. “I'm going for a fag.” His temper is piqued, solely in fear and anxiety, but he doesn't fire it at you. He touches his hand to your back for a moment before giving the doctor another glare as he stalks away, taking his hoodie with him. You watch him storm away, and you know it's all nervous energy - it's all the feelings he can't work through and the uncertainty he cannot stand - but you don't blame him nor do you feel compelled to offer the doctor an apology on his behalf.

“I appreciate that this is a very tense and upsetting time. A traumatic arrival into the world followed by a frightening setback.” Doctor O'Mahoney outlines your own feelings alarmingly clearly. “We really are doing everything for her, and we will continue to monitor and make any amendments she needs.”

You nod your head, “Thank you.” You say, and you wonder why you've managed to hang onto yourself a lot tighter than Cillian has. Doctor O'Mahoney offers you a small smile before she walks away, and you watch her disappear in the same direction Cillian had. You like her - you're not sure why, but you feel like you can trust her and you rarely feel that for anyone. You move slowly around the chairs and approach Clíodhna's incubator silently. You watch her tiny body for a moment, still not making the little movements you'd delighted in the day before, and wish to God you'd taken photos or videos of those little fingers, of her fluttering eyes. “Listen to me, little one,” you whisper. “Your Daddy can't take much more. I don't think I can either. I can't do Daddy's accent so well, but I know his words. I know his words for you. So come on, leanbh - our little fighter, don't stop fighting now, okay?” You take a deep breath. “He hasn't left you, I promise you. He just needs time. He's scared, and Daddy doesn't do well when he's scared. Too much for his little body to cope with.” You smirk, but you're not amused. “He used to say a baby would change everything and he didn't want that, but as soon as he knew you were coming he was so happy. He wanted you all along, and he wants you even more now. He doesn't want to lose you, Clíodhna. And because he's so scared of that happening, he's going to be absolutely unbearable to be near. But it's because he loves you so, so much and he doesn't know how to help you. He'll come back when he gets a little of himself back again, and he'll be here for you. He'll always be here for you. He's been the best Daddy already and you've only just got here. You've got a whole lifetime ahead to have him right by your side every time you want or need him, and even when you don't. You ever need a cuddle, you'll always get one from your Daddy. He loves cuddles! You want to make your Daddy happy, just give him a big hug - that's the one of the best ways Daddy can tell you he loves you, and when you give Daddy loves like that, it tells him the same.” You frown, and wonder why you're rambling on like this. You wet your lips and swallow against the aching lump in your throat. “Keep strong, Clíodhna, okay? Daddy needs a cuddle.”

.

[akirathedramaqueen]

When indecisiveness puts you between two fires and you get burned.

So, I wanted to reblog again a wonderful comparison post from @warblogs17282 about progression of Blitz's moral compass when it comes to taking on contracts, but it somehow became its own thing, so I decided to make a separate post. I suggest you check it out it first to know the context. <3 But as I said, this read is independent.

So I'm here to throw to the pile. Blitz faces the similar choice - whether to call the hit off or not - in Unhappy Campers. And this an interesting one. Hang on with me for a sec.

Despite Barbie Wire clearly saying the guy works for her, Blitz at first acts snarky about it.

Then, she explains that the target is her supplier. And look. Blitz holds Moxxie back. He lets her speak. The only time he talks back is when he assumes Barbie's on drugs again.

But, before we get to hear Blitz's opinion on this, the situation escalates. Also, apparently demon eyes glow in human disguise too? Or at least when they're emotional.

And they start fighting. 'They' being . . . Moxxie and Barbie. Moxxie attacks Barb, Barb throws Moxxie into the water.

Barbie calls Blitz out. Asking him - again, clear as day - to stay away from this. To back down. To give up the hit.

But Blitz . . . stays silent. He chooses not to act.

And before he says anything, Moxxie gets out of the water, it grows into a full-blown fight, leaving no room for negotiation.

There's a very interesting detail. While Blitz was dragged into this too, the only thing he does is to keep away his sister and his friend from each others' throats. He doesn't favor any side here. Just trying to keep everyone alive.

It's better to watch the fight for yourselves, but here are some highlights.

Separates them.

Drags Barb back when she gets an upper hand.

Doesn't reciprocate when he gets attacked himself.

Even shoves the target out of the way to save him from Moxxie's knife. Holds Moxxie from lurching onto the kid.

This last fact got me thinking that he might've silently decided to stand with Barb or at the very least, get the things to cool down so they can talk it out.

Unfortunately, a stray firecracker puts an end to this.

We know how it unfolds after. Barbie Wire blames Blitz for everything and leaves, asking he never seeks her again. Ever.

So what's interesting here, in the context of Blitz progressing from "we're ruining a family" (Murder Family) to "not this one, Mills" (Sinsmas)?

It's the middle of it:

he does question whether they need to proceed with the hit;

his only goal is to keep everyone alive - including the kid;

yet, this is not enough; his actions aren't decisive enough.

In the end, if he did the same thing as in Sinsmas . . .

If he told Moxxie to back down, none of this would've happened.

And he paid dearly for it.

So honestly, I have no idea where people got the idea that Blitz has no lines he wouldn't cross. Guess they just checked out after C.H.E.R.U.B.S.

[firstelevens]

things you said at the kitchen table, for the prompts meme! because as we all know, love is stored in the kitchen

13. things you said at the kitchen table

you asked about this pre-canon moment from the mr and mrs smith au and the time felt right to deliver a little slice of it

"I'm not even sure if it's something that you celebrate," Sam says, reminding himself not to wring his hands even though the nerves have kicked up again. "But if you do, and if you don't already have plans, we'd love to have you there."

Across the table, Bucky has gone very still, his cup of coffee held up about halfway to his mouth as he looks at Sam. "Christmas?" he says, after a long silence. "With your family?"

"It's a pretty low-key holiday for us," blurts Sam, as if Bucky asked for details instead of repeating Sam's invitation in disbelief. He's not sure why he's decided to dig himself a bigger hole. "You wouldn't have to worry about meeting extended family or anything; maybe just a neighbor or two coming by to say hello. It's just me and Sarah and the boys."

Sam might have thought twice about signing that marriage certificate if he'd known his husband of convenience would be this hard to read. (He'd have thought twice, maybe, but he would've signed it anyway. Bucky might've been a little quiet and broody for Sam's taste at first, but he was sweet where it counted , and there was no resisting that.) Now, Bucky finally sets down his coffee mug and looks back at Sam, his gaze steady and full of an emotion Sam can't parse.

"I couldn't impose like that, Sam," Bucky says haltingly. "That's time for your family. I couldn't- I wouldn't push my way into that. It's important to you."

"You're important to me, too," Sam says instantly. "You're important to me and I don't want you to be alone."

Bucky's eyes go wide with surprise, a little exhalation of surprise leaving his mouth like Sam caught him off-guard. It only belatedly occurs to Sam that Bucky might not want to come to Delacroix for Christmas, that he might feel like the dose of Sam that he currently gets is plenty. Being ambushed with an invitation to spend a week together several states away would hardly be an ideal situation, especially given that Sam sprung the invitation on Bucky before he'd had more than two sips of coffee.

"You don't have to say yes," Sam rushes to add. "I shouldn't have assumed. You might have plans, and I'm sure they don't involve multiple rounds of hide and seek with a three year old who keeps getting distracted."

The laugh that Bucky lets out is quiet but sincere. "That sounds like a pretty great way to spend the day, actually," he says, and looks like he means it. "But I do already have plans with a friend. Another time, maybe?"

And maybe he just says it to soften the rejection, but despite his best efforts, Sam feels the words settle somewhere in his chest.

Another time, he tells himself. Another time, because Bucky means to stick around, and Sam means to use every extra second to throw enough affection his way that someday he stops looking so awed every time Sam puts gas in his car or remembers to pick up his favorite doughnuts on a Saturday morning. Another time.

[the-haunted-office]

Doom gives Russell another glance over the top of her glasses, as she is looking at the little knobs on the cube, and quirks her lips to the side, amused.

"Good, let her darken someone else's doorway, ehehe," she says with a little snicker. "You don't give yourself enough credit. Just being yourself and being kind is gutsy enough. Plenty of people can't even manage that. Most people also don't carry baseball bats around in their backpacks, so there's also that, ehehehe."

Russell might not know it or understand the true weight of her words - even though they're true enough on their own - but she hasn't said them lightly or to blow smoke. If there's anything he might learn about her from spending enough time with her, it's that she doesn't pretend to like people she doesn't like and she doesn't spend time around people she doesn't like. If she thinks someone is a piece of shit, she will tell them, and if she thinks they are a good person, she will tell them.

In other words, she finds Russell to be a genuinely good person and enjoys his company, and wouldn't tell him so if she thought otherwise.

Telling him about the anomaly with his soul, though... that's a little trickier than just spelling it straight out, because she doesn't know all the details. All she knows is what she can see, and that doesn't tell her everything. She doesn't want him to panic or worry either, but she does believe he should know what she can see, especially since he took the time to fill her in on what happened during the kidnapping in the first place. It could be something serious and could be something he should know about, and it would be stupid of her and make her a bad friend to not tell him, in her opinion.

"It doesn't bother me, no," she says, putting the cube down so she can give him her full attention. "I think you should know about it, though, in case it's important. To be honest, I don't really know what it means, and it could be nothing at all, so I don't want you to feel afraid or worried, although understandably you might."

"I can see souls. Right now, I can see yours. It's much easier for me to see, if I close my eyes." Doom closes her eyes and "looks" at him through her eyelids, where she can once again see his soul with much more clarity than she can with her eyes open. She opens them again and gives him a sort of cautious half-smile. "Yours has an anomaly on it, some kind of mark or tear or similar, right there," she says, gesturing to his chest area. "I've seen a lot of souls with a lot different patterns and doohickeys and anomalies. Like I said, it could be nothing, but given the fact that this Five guy seemed interested in that area... well, maybe it's something. I don't know. I just thought... I should say something to you about it, I wouldn't feel right if I didn't."

"You're, you're welcome. I, I find it, I find it helps, it helps me some-sometimes, so I um, you know, thought, thought it, it might be, be helpful to, to you too," Russell said, with a small sheepish smile of his own then, "My, my nails used to, to be a real mess be-before I got, I got that."

His shoulders had stiffened once again when he had seen Doom's initial reaction, like she was thinking it might have seemed insulting or patronising. But at the acceptance, he managed to relax again. Maybe his small explanation on how it helped him sometimes had been enough.

Sure, he liked to offer it to others if he thought they might have needed it, but he had bought it for himself after seeing how such toys seemed to help others.

He then took another sip as he listened to Doom speak. Sadly, she was right. It was a thing that happened. When one group finally seemed to be accepted, another would become the main punching bag for the ignorant.

"Heh, I, I know it, it might not, it might seem like, like much but, but I still tell people ab-about you, you messing with, with that bell ringer at, at Christmas time," Russell said, "And my, my brother actually got the, the footage and, and shared it. People, people loved it. App-apparently she's, she's not planning to, to come back next year. I, I wish I, I had more, more guts to, to do things like, like that. I mean, with, with all this, this shit go-going on with, with Five, m-maybe I will if, if there's a, a next time..."

Although he was usually more about subtle revenge and sabotage, rather than full on fighting. Russell tugged at his sleeve then and took another sip. He really had to hurry up with it. At least it was about three quarters done now. But he couldn't help but wonder if he had something at the look she was giving him. Maybe she wasn't healing. Perhaps she couldn't heal from what had happened and all she could do was keep moving.

Just as he was about to apologise for being presumptuous, but then he nodded.

"And, and I'm glad you, you do," Russell said. But then his eyes widened a little, "Wait, wh-what? There, there is, there is some-something there? I uh, I thought he, he just. I dunno what, what he, he thought, really..."

Well, that was news to him. Something really was unusual.

"Um, uh..." Russell was quiet. Did he really want to know? Well, it would probably be a good idea to know if something was wrong, right? "Um, yes, I, I, I would pl-please... as, as long as, as it doesn't, doesn't um, it, it isn't a, any kind of, of bother for you."

[unriding]

a … a gift from the talented @kruinka 🥹 thank you so much!! ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ)

[icewindandboringhorror]

I'm so heavily anti-advertising that all pitches sound goofy silly to me/I can never take them seriously, so I have no idea how I'll manage to to advertise my game even if I do finally finish it soon-ish lol...

[bonnieisaway]

now in my head i understand and i know it's a very good and cool artistic choice that during the scene in s3 of seven saving thirteen (you all know what i'm fucking talking about let's be so fr do i even need the screenshot) that when it plays back seven actually reaching out for thirteen that it's not a fluid animation and it's frame by frame movements to illustrate how little time they had and how quickly seven was moving to save her. yet however as an editor with a specific taste for my own content i'd fucking love this thing to have a bit more GODDAMN MOVEMENT /J

[crossdressingdeath]

I'm organizing my screenshots for later posting (look forward to that) since I haven't done that in A Hot Minute and going through the Treviso stuff is so funny. Welcome Governor Ivenci, Antiva's number one hypocrite—

[snekdood]

i think the reason ppl get so uppity about you calling a scam a scam rn is bc they feel so powerless about the situation in i/p that they'll take ANYTHING to feel like they're contributing. they dont want to be the bystanders who have no real sway that they are, they want to be the heroes of the story, and if they dont at least have the scams to rely on for their image, how will everyone know how good of a person they are and praise them for saving the day???????????????

[cillianmurphysdimples]

A Female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Seventy Two)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and it's all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Seventy Two: Cillian's emotions are all-encompassing and vast - made worse by a further press leak - and he's taken aback when Y/N validates his every one - and reminds him that he allowed to express them. Taking Clíodhna in his arms, he knows his little fighter won't give up. [Angst/Emotional. Care of preemie babies]

@cherrycilly @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @watermeezer @steangeions @lavender-haze-01 @meadowshelby @borntodiemp3

A full translation of Cillian's speech is difficult word for word (doesn't fully translate well) but he expresses pride and love at her strength, and apologies that he can't make her better.

"Is breá liom tú, cailín leanbh" - "I love you, baby girl"

Also, the kid-friendly origins of Cillian being 'Magic Daddy'.

You feel for Cillian when, about twenty minutes after he'd stormed away, he returns with an air of embarrassment about him. You wish he didn't look so shameful - there is no shame at all in what he feels. He joins you beside Clíodhna's spaceship-looking cot and silently sits in the chair beside yours. He doesn't look at you for a moment, and you don't seek out any interaction for fear of upsetting him. But when he reaches over the side of the chair and takes your hand where it rests in your lap, you know he has lowered the walls enough for it to be safe to make eye contact. But then he speaks.

“There's another article.” He says. “More details, more claims. Someone's said something.” he sniffs and his jaw is stiff. 

You frown, shaking your head. “Fuck.” He looks at you for a moment and then he rolls his eyes and doesn't say another word about it. You know it'll come up again, but you know there's more pressing things consuming him. “Are you okay?” You ask him quietly. 

Nodding slowly, he mumbles an inhaled yes then takes a deep breath. “I feel useless.” He admits. “I want to make things better for her, but I can't.” 

You turn down the corners of your mouth, “I know what you mean.” 

“She's brand new, and so little, Y/N, she shouldn't have to go through this.” He sighs. He shifts his hand a bit where he has it laced into yours, then tightens his fingers around yours. “Are we allowed to hold her?” 

You feel awful when you realise you hadn't even considered asking that question, having assumed the answer would be no. “I don't know.” You say quietly. “Want me to find someone?” 

Cillian doesn't say anything for a few moments. “When Mal was small and he was sick, he used to lie on top of you. Aran liked to be left alone, and didn't want the fuss, but Malachy would lay out on you and need you there constantly. You'd end up vomited on, and you’d be sweating your bollocks off, because he'd be full of fever or whatever. What if she doesn't want to be left alone?” He frowns, his eyes fixed on Clíodhna. “What if she needs us?” 

The idea of her longing for contact makes your stomach lurch. “She's sedated too, Cillian, so she's fast asleep…” you say, hoping that's a comfort. It is to you, at least a little - if she's out of it, she doesn't know what she does or doesn't need. “And she can hear us. She knows we're here.” 

“It's not the same.” He shakes his head, but his eyes are still focused on Clíodhna. “Malachy would be able to see us, and it wasn't enough. It's the touching, the...hug that makes it better. Hearing your heartbeat, and your breathing, and when you talk. That's what helps.” He sounds so lost and sad that it makes your throat constrict. You smooth your thumb back and forth across his fingers wrapped in your hand. “I want to hold her.” 

You squeeze his hand once and slowly stand up, “I'll find someone.” You say quietly. He finally draws his eyes from Clíodhna, looking around at you. You meet his eyes, and they're darkened with her weight of all he's feeling. “I'll find someone, okay, and you can hold on to her for as long as you want to. Okay?” He lets your hand go but doesn't say anything as you walk away. 

It surprises you how quickly you're assisted and how the request you assumed wouldn't be granted is quickly facilitated. Within minutes, Imelda has Clíodhna safely scooped up in her hands as she waits for Cillian to get comfortable in the chair before she places Clíodhna's tiny, unmoving body right up near his collarbone, settled comfortably on top of his t-shirt. She fusses for a moment, ensuring all wires are still secure and that Clíodhna's observations haven't changed dramatically. She adjust the tiny tube that protrudes from Clíodhna's tiny, parted lips and it makes you wince. You watch what you imagine to be a mirror of your own expression flash across Cillian's face as he winkles up his nose, watching Clíodhna's little head move with the slight adjustments. But when she walks away, you can almost see the visible relaxing of every muscle in Cillian's body. He rests left palm across Clíodhna's back as she lies on her tummy, arms either side of her and tiny legs stretched down along the centre of Cillian's chest. Her tiny fingers don't twitch, but you do notice an occasional curling of her toes which reminds you of the immense strength that you know this little girl has. You sit in the chair beside Cillian silently, as he holds her tightly and equally as silently for a few moments before he begins to talk to her. So beautiful do you find it, that there isn't a shred of jealousy over the fact that he keeps his words private - between him and Clíodhna - as he whispers softly to her in Irish. 

“Tá mé chomh bródúil asat, a leanbh. Hey?” He has chin down, so that he whispers his words close to her head. “Is bean láidir thú. Sea, tá sé sin ceart, a leanbh.” he takes a deep breath, and Clíodhna's tiny body rises with the action. He moves his hand up and down her bare back slowly. “Tá brón orm nach féidir liom aon mhaith a dhéanamh duit. Tá brón orm, leanbh.” You watch him close his eyes tightly, and he rests his head back against the chair. He's barely holding it together. “But I am right here,” he says. He brings up his right hand to cup over her little feet. “I am right here, yeah? Me and Mammy, and we're not going anywhere until you're all better.” He turns his head on the chair and looks at you. “Maybe we should do your idea, taking shifts here? Did you want to go home for a while and come back later on? I'm not sending you, but…” 

You shake your head. “No, I'll stay.” 

He smiles softly, though it doesn't touch his eyes. “She's moving her feet.” You look down at her body as he lifts his right hand, and sure enough her little toes are flexing just a bit. 

“Because she's got her Daddy - you knew what she needed.” You praise him without condescension. “Like magic, you knew what she needed.” you reach your hand across and touch the sole of Clíodhna's tiny left foot. “It didn't even occur to me, but you knew. Her Magic Daddy. And I've never been more sure that this girl was supposed to be here, and is supposed to be here. And that you,” you look up at him, “are supposed to be her Daddy.” 

He takes a shaky breath at your words. “I'm sorry I left before.” 

You shake your head immediately, “Don't you dare, don't apologise. You have nothing to be sorry for, Cillian, and no explanation to give. You're angry and you're scared, and you acted that way. I am not ashamed of you, so do not be ashamed of yourself.” you say, and he looks at you like he can't believe you understand, like he can't believe he's allowed to display something like that. “Never hold it back, Cillian. Your love for her, your feelings for her - your feelings over anything. Please don't think I need that toxic….never bothered, macho man. I never have, and I don't want you to try and be that. Show our girl, and your boys, that it's okay to feel what you feel, and let people know that you need to be heard over that. You do it for me all the time, you let me feel what I feel. I forget, sometimes, that you're only human. You're her father, Cillian, and you're frightened and you deserve to be able to show that.” 

He reaches his right hand across and plants it against your thigh. He doesn't say a word, but you suspect that he can't right now. His left hand stays safely wrapped around Clíodhna's back and he lowers his chin once again and places a kiss awkwardly against the top of her fluffy little head. When he rests his head back again, you can see the tears that are slowly dropping from his lower lashes. You place your hand over his where it's still resting on your leg and let the silence linger between you both. 

The nurses move around you with minimal interruptions to Cillian's cuddle, but they access Clíodhna as and when they need to. There's readings taken and adjustments of the small wires around her, but they don't take her away. While you take no notice of actual time, you know it is at least a handful of hours when Imelda approaches you both, looking to engage a little more. 

“We're going to run her feed,” she says quietly. “I won't even suggest placing her back, don't worry.” She says, and you can see she's reading the look of abject terror on Cillian's face. “We'll need to do a nappy change soon, though, okay, but again I'm happy to just be there and let you two work away.” 

You stop her when, after hooking up what she needs to and ensuring everything is set, she goes to walk away. “Imelda?” She smiles gently at you. “How long until you know that the medication is working?”

“We'll see improvements quickly,” she says. “I can't give exact numbers - NICU babies are so singular - but we'll see improvements in her observations fairly quickly as long as it's going in the direction we hope it does.” She sounds positive, calm even, and it's easy to believe her despite your fears. 

“And if we want to stay tonight?” You continue. 

Imelda softens her face further. “I won't stop you, but I would encourage you both to go home and rest. We can and will call you if there are any concerns. You two burning yourselves out, too, isn't going to be helpful either.” 

“But we can stay?’ you check. 

Imelda nods her head, “Of course you can.” 

“You really think you'd make us leave anyway?” Cillian says, and his eyes are fixed on Clíodhna as he speaks but his tone is sharp. 

Imelda looks at Cillian, then at you. “No, I don't think so.” she says, and her voice is calm. 

Cillian raises his eyes and looks at her. “How does a room full of nurses allow a newborn, premature baby to choke on their own fucking vomit?” The bridge of his nose is in a firm frown. 

“Cill,” you say with a wince. 

“There's three or four of you around here at any given time, and she's tiny and relies on everyone for everything. How do four fucking nurses allow that to happen?” He shakes his head, and you can see all the rationality he'd applied earlier has left him, squashed from him by his fear, anger and uncertainty. “Did youse overfeed her to make her get sick?” 

“Love, stop, this won't help.” You insist calmly. 

“I need to know.” Cillian looks at you, and his eyes are glassy and wide. “I need to know how my daughter got sick.” 

Imelda breathes evenly but it's noisy as she listens, then she nods her head to validate Cillian's words. “It just happens, Cillian. Baby's get sick after feeding, it happens. And she was reclined, and it just… it just happened. It does happen. I know you need to make sense of it, but it is senseless in that respect. It's just an occurrence.” 

“Just an occurrence?” Cillian scoffs. “It could kill her.” His face firms up. “This fucking occurrence could kill her, and you say it's just senseless?” 

“Love, please, you have Clíodhna listening to your heart, and your voice and your breathing…” you say.

At your words, he takes a deep breath. “I'm sorry.” 

You reach across, despite Imelda eyeing you both awkwardly, and cup your hand around his cheek. “Keep it calm for her. Please? I'm not telling you it's wrong, feeling what you are, but I'm just saying - try being calm for her.” you smooth your thumb across his cheekbone for a moment then draw back your hand. “I think us going home is probably a good idea, later this evening. You promise you'll call if there's anything at all that happens?” 

Imelda nods her head, “Someone will call if there is anything that happens.” She vows. You nod once, and Imelda awkwardly excuses herself with the promise to return shortly for the end of Clíodhna's feed. 

Cillian sighs loudly and closes his eyes, “We need to talk to someone, get out somewhere more private.” He says. “Or next fucking print will me hitting some staff member a box in the jaw.” 

You run your eyes over his face. “What did the article say?” 

He opens his eyes and fixes his intense blue stare right at you, “Similar to the other one, but with her name.” 

You raise both eyebrows. “They printed her name?” 

Cillian nods, “Yep,” he says, stiffening his jaw. “And referenced the boys, too. Something like, ‘big brothers Aran and Malachy’ and then it says that the illusive sources have revealed we named her Clíodhna.” he rolls his eyes and scoffs, “No mention of the fact that doctors and nurses can't give straight answers, or that she was allowed inhale her own fucking puke.” He snaps. “It's not right, Y/N,” he looks at you, and his expression is as sad as his tone. “She's no privacy, no fucking dignity, and she's not even here a full fucking week!” He shakes his head. “My mum and dad, my sisters, my brother, her own fucking brothers…They've not met her and already there's information leaking out into a fucking internet wank-page.” 

You nod your head slowly, “I know, it isn't fair.” You say, sadly. 

“And she's got fight off a fucking infection now, too? She's only wee! It isn't fucking right.” He sniffs and stiffens his jaw again. “I don't want to go home,” he says firmly. “I don't want to leave her with people who aren't watching her like they should be.” 

You nod your head again, “I know, but if you stay here you're going to go insane. We will leave, when we are ready, after we've settled her back down. And we will come back first thing tomorrow and do it again. I don't want to leave her either, but if you don't get some distance and a break, I don't think you'll be able to keep your tongue.” 

He scoffs and juts his chin. “I know I shouldn't have given out to her.” He says, half rolling his eyes.

“Probably not, but I understand it.” You say. 

"But I'm not sorry.” He says, and he smirks a little. 

You can't help the small chuckle it brings to your throat. “I can see that.” You sigh and reach out, touching your hand to Clíodhna's leg as she flexes her toes again gently. “She's so comfortable with you.” 

“I hope so.” He says, moving his fingers against Clíodhna's back. “I was thinking about what you said before, about wanting to hear her cry.” He says, and you look up at him, tearing your eyes away from Clíodhna's little foot. You raise your eyebrows at his words. “I hadn't thought about it before, but I know what you mean and I've been thinking about it since. I want to hear it, too. I want to hear her voice - her little…fucking…roar.” He smiles sadly. “I want to know what she sounds like.” He looks at you and sticks out his bottom lip.

“We will, soon.” You nod your head in the hopes of convincing him and yourself of the fact. “Her little cry, and then her giggle, and her words. I'm laying a bet now, her first word will be Daddy.” He smiles, and his cheeks push up into his eyes. “I'm calling it now. And I can almost guarantee, she's not going to want to know me. This is a Daddy's girl right here.” 

Cillian cranes his head to look down at Clíodhna, “Too right.” He says, and kisses the top of her head. “Too fucking right, leanbh, hey? Daddy's girl.” he sighs softly. "I'm sorry, leanbh. But you're fighting so hard, I know you are. I do. I can feel it. And even with all the medicine they have y'on, you're moving those wee toes. You're a wee fighter, and I know you're a winner too. You're gonna win this fight, aren't you? Hey? My wee girl.* He brings his words even quieter, to a breathy whisper, so quiet that even though he's beside you, you can barely hear it. "I'm sorry I went away before - I'm so mad that you're so tiny, but you've to fight like a bear. But I'm right here, leanbh. I'll never go far away, I'm here for you all the time - and even when you get bigger, and you're being bold, I'll still be here and I'll still love ya. Yeah? Are you listening to me, leanbh? Hmm? 'Though she be but little, she is fierce '. And y'are, leanbh. You are. You're fucking amazing, you know that? Keep on being my wee fighter, yeah? And when you're well, me and Mammy are gonna get y'in the car, and I'll take you to Cork and meet Granny and Granddad. My gorgeous wee girl," he sighs heavily through his nose, closing his eyes as he rests back his head. His hand moves gently on her back again and Clíodhna's tiny toes move once again. "Daddy's gorgeous wee girl, hmm? You're safe here, leanbh, with me and Mammy. There's room in these arms for you until the day I can't fecking lift them - until that fucking day, leanbh, I'll hold you whenever, wherever. You listening? Hmm?" He sighs again, and your throat is killing you with his constricted it's become, overcome with emotion at Cillian's whole being. "For as long as I'm fucking breathing, my wee girl, I'm gonna fight right alongside ya." He lifts his head again, and cranes his chin to kiss the top of her head. "Is breá liom tú, cailín leanbh." 

It's after ten pm when you arrive home. Cillian kills the ignition and sighs heavily. He rests his head back against the seat, then turns to his left to look at you. The driveway is illuminated by the motion light that had come on as the car pulled in, but otherwise it's dark around you. You look back at him with a soft and sad smile. His entire face displays his exhaustion - it's not just fatigue, though, it's different. It's emotional tiredness, like his brain has reached its limit and physically cannot process anything else. He blinks slowly, and he draws his tongue across his dry lower lip. He's been absent-mindedly biting against the dry skin across the evening and there are two areas on it that are threatening to bleed if he doesn't leave it be. He reaches forwards and pulls the key from the ignition, then hands it to you. “Let yourself in,” he says, “I'm gonna have a fag and then I'll come in.”

Taking the keys, and clutching them in your right palm whilst you hold your handbag in your left, you don't move to get out. “I'm proud of you.” You say, and you feel your chest dropping with a wave of emotion as the words leave your lips. The look on his face only makes the surge of emotions deepen.

He scoffs, though. “Why?”

“Because I know you wanted to scream at people today, but you didn't. I know you probably wanted to make me hurt because you're hurting, but you didn't. And even though you probably could have done with pounding the pavement for an hour, you came back inside earlier today and you help our daughter - and you spoke to her with so much love, and sweetness, and I know for a fact she would have felt so safe, every single second she lay with you.” You say, honestly, and by the time your words are out you find your vision blurring with tears. “Everything seemed to hit you today, I know that it must have felt like an articulated truck full of shit, and you still showed up for that baby girl.” You sniff and rub the sleeve of your jacket under your nose. “I've known I loved you since the start of us, Cill, and I always thought I knew how much until I saw you today. But you made me realise that what I feel for you can't be measured, because it grows all the time - and watching you with Clíodhna, it grew more than it has in the longest time. You're an amazing man, Cillian, and a wonderful fiancé and lover, but that all pales in comparison to your position as a father. They say a mother's love is complex, but you and Clíodhna…,” you shake your head and wonder if he's staring at you that way because you're rambling an emotional rant of twaddle. You sniff and blink your tears from your lashes. “I'm proud of you, and I love you, and I never, ever, want to consider a day in our future when it isn't you and me, and that little girl, against the rest of the fucking world.”

You wonder what he's thinking as he simply stares back at you. He's still, and silent, and it shocks you a little when he finally moves. He leans across the centre console and cups his left hand around your cheek as he pushes his face close to yours and presses his lips firmly down against yours. He kisses you with a certain ferocity, and parts his lips slightly to keep pressure and passion. The pad of his thumb moves slowly across the outer corner of your eye, and it keeps moving gently even as he finally breaks his lips from yours. “Thank you,” he says in a husky whisper. “I love you.” He croaks. You nod your head quickly. He moves his thumb once more then takes back his hand. He sniffs and clears his throat. “C’mon,” he says and reaches for the door handle. You climb from the car on your side and push the door shut with your hip in time with Cillian shutting the door on the driver's side. He hits the central lock button and waits for you as you walk around the front of the car to join him. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and kisses softly against your temple. “Get yourself inside, stick the kettle on. I’ll only be a minute.* He rubs his palm up and down your bicep before he lets you go again.

He stays behind, lighting a cigarette as you let yourself into the house. You leave the front door ajar as you amble inside. You flick on the hallway light and push the keys into the door on the inside, ready to lock and it alarm the house once Cillian comes in. You move straight into the kitchen and set your bag down onto the island before you fill the kettle and place it back onto the base to boil. Cillian’ll want a soothing cup of tea before bed - that or a beer, you assume, Ur as he's said to put the kettle on, you presume he's made that choice already. You flit around the kitchen like a trapped fly, placing mugs and searching for teabags, and emptying the dishwasher whilst the slightly-too-full kettle takes its time to boil, and then you stand near the kettle with your hands planted into the counter and try to breathe some calmness into yourself. You know Clíodhna can't be at home with you right now, but it doesn't make the lack of her any easier to bear. You turn your head as you hear the front door shut over and you watch Cillian's back as he locks the door and then toes off his trainers, leaving them on the floor under the coat hooks instead of putting them away. You smile softly as he walks towards you on his silent, socked feet. His sleepy face looks a little more relaxed - you're not sure if it's the cigarette, the kiss, or your words that's achieved it but you actually hope that it's a mesh of all three. You look towards the kettle as it clicks off from its noisy boil. “Chamomile?” You ask him, “Or that weird bedtime blend?”

He shakes his head, “Chamomile is good.”

“Do you want anything to eat?” You ask, “Sandwich or fruit, or something?”

He crinkles his nose, “No, I'm grand with the tea.” He sniffs, “We’ll dive into the leaba soon, will we?”

You nod your head and widen your eyes as you pour the boiled water into both of your mugs. “Definitely.” you look back at him as you replace the kettle. “You want to talk about anything before we settle down?”

He pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and shakes his head. “No,” he says quietly. “But I know I can, if I want to. And I hope you'll talk to me, too?”

You blink slowly as you nod your head, “I will.” You look back to the mug and grab the tea bag string hanging over the side of Cillian's. You lift it in and out a few times before ensuring the string is left hanging, then slide the mug across the counter, closer to him. “Get that into your then, love.”

He smirks as he draws his hands free and steps closer. He leaves the tea a moment and instead wraps his arms around, pushing himself up close against your back. “Thank you for today,” he says in a gentle voice. “You're right, what you said in the car - I did want run, and shout, and throw my weight around, and you saying it would have been okay because feeling like this is valid…you let me be an arsey prick today, because you understood it. I know you're feeling it all too, but I appreciate you letting me…fucking fall apart.” He smirks. “I feel better for it.”

You reach up your right hand and caress his cheek. “I can't keep making you be what I need all the time.” You say, “We’re both terrified for Clíodhna, and you need to able to let out. And I need to be what you need.”

You're not sure why it's now you've had the epiphany, but you're glad you have. Saying what you did to him at the hospital, about Clíodhna's name, made you ashamed and had - along with your fears for Clíodhna right now - made you realise that you take so much more than you give in your relationship with Cillian. You know you can't keep doing it, and in making him feel better - you've actually made yourself feel better too. You just wish that same epiphany could extend to fixing it all for Clíodhna, too.

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[huccimermaidshirts]

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