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your-nanas-house · 11 months ago

Note

Soooo I was thinking Cillian X Fan! reader. He takes advantage of the fact that reader admires him sm and uses her for his pleasure…

I'm so so sorry, it took me so long but I was really really smitten with this idea! 🙇🏼‍♀️

Out with the dog

◇ Pairing: Dark!Cillian Murphy X younger fan!Reader

◇ Warnings: SMUT, Cilly is a perv and bit dark, DUBCON, manipulation, bit mean Cilly (?), oblivious fem reader, fluff, frustration and stress.

◇ Summary: Cillian has company during his daily walk with his dog, Scout.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. I didn't proof read it... I mean I don't re-read my works normally but I just wanted to point it out this time in case I wrote some shit. Enjoy!!! Also thank you @kiss-me-cill-me for your advices and motivation! 🫶🏻

It wasn't at all what he was expecting when he left the house just to take the family dog for a walk.

The twisted thoughts and stress that had been troubling him all day had become even more insistent with the cool Dublin air and the fall of evening. His mind was really elsewhere when a soft and shy voice interrupted his trail of thoughts, making him realize that he was standing in the same spot, staring at nothing, since a while now.

"Excuse me, sir. I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean to bother you but... I'm a huge fan of your work and—" the voice cracked softly, the younger girl that was standing in front of him looked quite nervous and shy which made him smile slightly.

"I-I-I... sorry, I shouldn't have interrupted you" she quickly apologized, her body telling him that she was going to just walk quickly off... too ashamed of the interaction to actually look him in the eyes again.

"Don't worry..." Cillian started, waiting for her name as he removed his sunglasses, flattering his eyes softly when the dim light hit him. She was very pretty and at least 10 years younger than him for sure, he thought while taking her in.

"Y/n!... Y/n" the young woman revealed nervously, her hands shaking awkwardly, a thing that Cillian noticed immediately and that made him smile a little as soon as she tried to hide it by grabbing into her bag... both hands holding the strap making his breath get bit heavier.

He sure was stressed and frustrated, he thought as his eyes remained on her smaller hands as they moved slightly while she talked... up and down, up and down.

Gosh, he really would have loved to have them wrapped around his cock like that, he was certain that those tiny pretty hands weren't that innocent for sure.

"Beautiful name" he commented with a tiny smile in an attempt to distract himself by his pervy intrusive thoughts. He really didn't need to deal with an article of some random magazine commenting on him walking around Dublin with a noticeable hard-on after talking with a younger woman.

She sure was a pretty thing though, from her hair to her eyes down to her breasts and— he needed to keep hold on himself. What gotten into him? He never objectified a woman like that... it wasn't like him.

He needed to keep going with his walk, clear his mind, regain back the control he usually had and—

"I was actually hoping for a bit of company... would you like to walk with me?... and my dog" the proposal slipped out of the older man unconsciously, as his gaze darkened slowly, his body reacting almost animalisticly... like a hungry predator ready to eat his prey.

Fuck, he cursed in his head, looking away as he waited for a reply from her... a poor way to distract himself from her innocent presence. Poor because the wind was apparently against him as well that evening... blowing her sweet scent towards him so that his nostrils could take her even more in.

The Irishman really hoped silently for her rejection peppered with some tender excuse that could have been true or could have been false... he didn't care much.

But of course, things hadn't been going the way he'd hoped all day so why be surprised when he got a shy yes instead of an embarrassed no.

He couldn't complain though, after the stressful week he had... bit of female company could have been the cure, maybe he was able to do some kind of conversation and focus his mind elsewhere and not on her body... but rather on her brain.

...

The soft breeze started to hit them harder, the walk was going well and the small talk was pretty enjoyable, they talked about lots... changing from deep to light, from silly to serious, from sad to happy.

Cillian was really enjoying her presence, her mature thoughts and her friendly personality. His stress and tension could have flown away if it was for her.... moving lips.

Soft looking, pinkish due to the lipstick she had on and very kissable... the actor could clearly imagine them wrapped around his cock. Wetting it all with her warm mouth as her lips would have painted his bases of that pink— pink, he repeated in his head as his Adam's apple bobbed. He needed to change topic quickly and stop focusing on her goddamn lips.

"What do you think of Barbenheimer?" The Irishman asked, slapping himself mentally for the question.

Just keep walking, Cillian, focus on walking... don't look at her... and her pretty blouse that was getting opened by the wind, exposing bit more of her neckline as it moved the fabric of her shirt as well. Damn wind.

He had reached a point where he couldn't even focus on her speaking, the feeling of being on the edge was getting harder as time passed... he was sure that a little push would have made him completely loose his rational thoughts. And then that's when Scout, his dog, decided to just sprint to reach something... making him loose the lazy grip he had on the leash and make the young woman run after him.

Cillian went quickly after them, his mind trying to stay in focus as he saw her skirt rise up at every bounce she did to snatch the leash for him before anything bad could happen. He was quite sure now that she was hiding a pretty revealing underwear under that modest outfit she was wearing.

"There you go, good boy" her soft voice praised as she kneeled down to pet the dog and take the leash, too busy snuggling with him to notice Cillian's gaze on her bouncing breasts.

She wasn't wearing a bra, he cursed under his breath again, his body too warm because of the jogging, his heart drumming harder against his chest as he tried to calm down and focusing on his breathing... and not her heavy.. panting and sexy one.

When the young woman stood back up and brushed her smaller hand against his to give him the leash... Cillian's self-control reached the end

"Thank you" he murmured in a more low tone as his body started to react at his impulses.

By the way her eyes kept shining as she looked at him, he knew that with a bit of pressure he could have made her do whatever he wanted... but was it really what he wanted? He pondered as his feet made him change the route he normally took when out with Scout, leading the oblivious young woman in a dark alley.

"I agree, things are pretty different nowadays" the older actor commented as he mentioned the conversation they were having, his heart beating even faster as he thought quickly of a plan.

Was he really going to take advantage of that kind fan of him? Was he really that desperate and frustrated?

Questions kept filling his head as his eyes remained on the wet street, lost in thoughts

"Do you do this path every day?" Y/n's voice interrupted the silence, making his baby blue eyes look back at her.

Yes, he was.

"Mhhm.. but I take usually the parallel street" he informed her while looking around to be sure that they were alone. The oblivious and curious look on her pretty face was making him harder than ever, making the uncomfortable feeling become a painful one now.

As soon as the Irishman was sure that there was Noone around he let go casually of the leash, whistling to order something to Scout who... after giving a look at his master headed in a run towards the beginning of the alley, sitting there as a guard. Watching around to warn Cillian if someone would have approached.

A glance at his black dog and he acted, not letting Y/n even questioning him before pressed his plumpy lips against hers as the dark swallowed them more now that her body was pressed against the cold and humid wall.

His big hands moved eargerly to her face and neck to keep her tilted like he wanted so to facilitate the kiss he was stealing.

Her neck was soft and tempting, he could easily leave a mark if he wanted but he didn't had so much time.. so he had to take things faster than he hoped.

As the kiss broke he inhaled deeply, letting his nose brush against hers as his thumbs caressed her skin... he didn't dare to open his eyes and meet her probably wide eyes and swollen lips... his cock was already throbbing and if he did that small action he was sure that the seed he was hoping to shoot in her would have just soiled his trousers.

"Damn, darling" Cillian cursed softly, licking his lips before diving down to kiss her neck while pressing his body against hers in an attempt of finding some friction and swallow her in his lust.. caging her body against the bricks even more.

"Do you want to help me, dear?" he asked softly, stroking her neck slowly as his piercing eyes now watched her carefully, noticing the glimpse of insecurity that was in her wide beautiful eyes

"Bet you want to, hm? Or I could just go to another fan of mine. Bet they would die to have a chance like this, darling... acting less ungrateful than you" he softly threatened in his low voice. His irish accent echoing in her head as he manipulated her young mind.

Of course she wanted to help him, he was her idol and favourite actor of all times... she couldn't really risk it and watch his disappointment towards her. She didn't wanted to be faced by his oh-so famous judgy face.

But the embarrassment and hesitance were there as well... she had a dignity and couldn't just allow him to use her like that, right?

Of course, it was something she dreamed about but was she really ready for that? She didn't even try casual sex in her lige yet. But she sure didn't want him to go to another fangirl and his intense gaze was like a poker face to her... so she was stuck on not knowing whatever he was telling the truth or not.

"I don't have the whole day, darling" Cillian's low voice commented as his gaze shifted towards the spot where his dog was still sitting.

Y/n glances at him again, gulping while trying to silence the battles in her head. She really didn't know what to do, what if it wasn't like he expected or if it would turn out to be a mistake.

"Ok!... Y-Yes, I-I want to help you, Mr. Murphy" Y/n stammered out when the actor started to move away from her.

Her heart beated hard against her chest, making her breath get caught in her throat as her hands started to sweat when he hummed and undoed his pants, pulling out his hard cock without hesitation or patience.

"That's a good girl, get on your knees" his low voice ordered before he moved slowly his tip against her lips, painting them with his pre-cum as he thrusted slightly forward to let them wrap around his red tip.

"That's it... suck" Cillian's voice ordered, allowing to be teased a bit before snapping his hips forward, making her hit her head against the wall and gag around his lenght. "Fuck, love" he cursed with a growl, letting her adjust to him before starting to fuck her mouth till he nearly reached his edge.

The actor's first intention was to just burry his cock deep in her throat and cum there but as his icy eyes wandered down to her kneeled form... and stopped on her clinging thighs the need to feel her young cunt around him became a must.

With a slow motion he moved away from her, letting her breath properly as she dried her spit while catching her breath. Tears already adorning her cheeks... she really was beautiful, the man repeated to himself as a mocking coo left him.

His big hands strokes the soft flesh of her cheeks as he made her get up so that he could smash his lips back against hers, forcing a hungry, toothy kiss that luckily slowed down when she reciprocated it.

Her bare leg was hooked up at his narrow hip, allowing his cock to brush her clothed folds with his help.

He was right... she really was wearing some thing revealing panties, arousing and innocent enough to make him just want to fuck her with them on. His thick finger made its way towards her entrance, curling around the fabric to move it with ease so that it was now half-hugging his lenght... allowing her folds to wet his cock while the panties squeezed it as he thrusted.

His leaking tip kept smearing his pre-cum on her spot skin and onto the fabric of her skirt each time it touched it. The hardness of it managed to gift some attention to her clit as well while his thrusts sped up.

Cillian could feel her juices dripping from his cock down to his balls and the underwear squeeze harder around him now that he was moving them in a difference pace.

It didn't took him much to reach his own peak, his body was quickly shaking and limp against her as his warm cum decorated her clothes. He was too desperate to care or to stop himself so that he could have used her pussy to pleasure him a bit more... not that he complained. He was fully satisfied, sweat was running down his forehead as he breathed heavily against her shoulder as he slowly got down his peak, his thrusts slowing down till he was too overstimulated to receive any further touch.

"Darling... can I keep your panties?... So that I can wash them and give them back to you clean, of course" Cillian casually asked, fixing her hair in a tender manner while brushing slowly his thumb on her swollen lips, watching her panting.

Guess the destiny decided for us... we will meet soon again, darling. Just to give you back your undergarments, of course, he thoughts as he tucked himself back and fixed his clothes, ready to continue the little walk they were having previously.

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cillianmurphysdimples · 12 days ago

Text

A female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Fourteen)

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

Gif credit - @remembering-angels

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

TRIGGER WARNING for MENTIONS OF ABORTION.

We Got Issues

Part Fourteen: Y/N and Cillian's morning buys them more hours than expected before he has to leave for England again. They have a lovely morning and Y/N feels sated with the domesticity - then Cillian bites the bullet and instigates "the talk". [Soft domestic life followed by adult themes and mentions of abortion]

@remembering-angels @dragonsneversharetheirtreasure @meadowshelby @strangeions @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @lavender-haze-01

References that might not be got by those outside of Ireland/those who don't visit/ and/or just to clarify -

Store Street and Busáras: Busáras is the central bus/coach station in Dublin city and it is located on Store Street.

Gaa - this is the GAA, Gaelic athletic association, which covers Gaelic football, hurling, that kind of thing. My referencing here and in my experience is using "the Gaa" to refer mostly to Gaelic football. In terms of the jersey being split - my half brother in Ireland has our Dad from from Cavan and his Mam is from Monaghan, and they got him a Gaa jersey that is literally like the 2 halves sewn together.

.....

You wake before Cillian, a single minute before seven am, with a day of work ahead of you. You fight the temptation to wake him, and just glance at him sleeping peacefully before you sit up on the edge of the bed, still exhausted despite a settled night. Having him beside you was lovely, even when you had turned your backs to one another to sleep. Knowing he was there, and hearing the sounds of his breathing, made you feel warm and safe all night. But tonight he would not be there; he'd be gone once again, and you were already preemptively dreading the prolonged time alone ahead. He didn't move a muscle as you climbed up off of the bed and pulled in your fleece quarter zip lounge top that was balled up on the floor by the nightstand. It was a little chilly, and despite the fact that you knew the heating would either be on or would kick in as needed, with the duvet and Cillian's radiator-like body heat now removed from you, it feels very cold. He's sprawled out on his front with his head facing your side of the bed and tipped back a little on the pillow that hides his arms beneath it; his lips are parted and his breaths, though not even close to being snores, are deep and audible. You take your phone from the nightstand and slip it into the pocket of your fleece, then push your feet into your slippers from beside the armchair, then creep out of the door with your steps as quiet as you can make them. You pull the door closed quietly behind you, not fully shut in the jamb but pulled right across, and then you make your way down the stairs slowly.

You make yourself a mug of the flavoured coffee you still had from the Food Festival in Monaghan that had been held the summer. Cillian had insisted on it after some review of the company he'd read, but he ended up hating it. You love it though - it’s a strangely flavoured ground coffee that's marketed as tasting like rum and raisin; while you can't taste either of those things, you do like the flavour. You know that if you don't wash out the coffee press, Cillian will bitch about the smell of it, so try to keep it in your mind to do so before you start work. Coffee in hand, you grab a vegan-friendly, but not absolutely awful tasting, caramel flapjack from Cillian's secret-but-not-really-secret stash at the back of the cupboard that houses cereals, teas and coffee options. You know for certain that Cillian will offer to cook a real breakfast when he gets up, especially with Malachy also here. You flop down onto the sofa to enjoy the slow hour you have to wake up - at around eight, you would force yourself up into the office space in the eves and work like a demon until after five - but this hour was yours. You flick through Amazon Prime for five minutes, then settle on the Kneecap movie. You know you won't get the chance to watch the lot, but you've been desperate to watch this since the first whispers. Silently hoping there are English subtitles, you turn it on and draw your legs up beside you on the sofa and take a careful sip of your steaming coffee. You are about halfway down your coffee and not even ten minutes into the film when you hear, then see, someone walking with slow, heavy steps down the stairs. It's a small surprise to you whomever of the two men it is, at this early hour, but you are particularly surprised that it is Cillian.

“Hey,” you say softly as you pause the movie. “What're you doing up so early? Get your sleep in while you can.” By the look of him, you know he's been awake mere moments - his hair is insane, his pale face has little red lines from the pillowcase creasing up, his eyes are barely open and blinking slowly with the threat to close as he stands on his feet, and the erection that tents out his pyjama bottoms is appealing to look at, but clearly not based in arousal. Together, it all gives his sudden and reluctant wakefulness away at a sweeping glance. “What woke you?”

“Malachy,” he says, huskily. He reaches his arms up, hands around the back of his head, and groans as he stretches his back. “He just, umm, flew in the door, there,” he says, as he drops his arms back down. You smirk to yourself as he pulls out the waistbands of his pyjamas and boxers shorts in an attempt to adjust for comfort. “Doesn't have the study day he thought he did,” he shakes his head. He stands with an adorably unmasked, miserable pout, then yawns with a tightly pulling jaw and doesn't cover his wide open mouth at all. “I've to throw him into college for half nine.” he says after his yawn abates. He's so petulant and grumpy in his sleepiness that it's funny to watch and listen to him.

“I could do that.” You say, drawing down your mouth to give him a sympathetically sad look. “I can take him, Cill. I don't mind, I'll use my flexi hours and just work later into the evening. Go back up to bed, tell him I'll drop him to college.”

He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, “No, you're grand.” He says and yawns a second time. “Sure I'm up now anyway."

You smirk and shoot your childish shot at humour. “Oh, I can see that.” The look of derision he throws you is hilarious, though you're sure there's a faint dimple formed into his left cheek with the threat of smile, and you throw your head back on the sofa as you laugh.

He groans and rubs both hands across his face then drops his arms down to his sides. “Aran’s right, we need a bathroom down here." He mumbles as he turns back to the stairs. “Get me a coffee, will ya? I'll be back in a sec.” He calls as he jogs back up the stairs out of view. You get up from the sofa with your mug and oblige his request, and decide you'll make yourself a fresh coffee as you do so. You rinse the coffee press out as the kettle boils and fill it with plain ground coffee. True to his word, he returns just as you push down the plunger on the newly brewed coffee. He walks slowly over and wraps his arms around you from behind, placing his chin on your right shoulder, and squeezes his arms around your waist gently as you pour out your coffees. “Have you much on for work today?" He asks. His voice is still full of sleep, gumbling and strained, and it makes those frequent butterflies awaken in your belly.

“Transcribing mostly. It's a bad case - I imagine there'll be news coverage at some point.” You say sadly and he hums sympathetically in your ear as he kisses your cheek before letting you go. He takes his coffee cup before stepping away just enough to give some personal space. You know that he appreciates that this is one of the more difficult aspects of your job - listening to interview and statement tapes of children detailing the crimes and abuse against them - and he has always been understanding of how the things you hear can sit in your mind. You give no details; not only can't you, but you wouldn't want to, either, but he seems to truly understand that you hear some harrowing tales of true darkness.

You stand in the kitchen facing one another - him leaning back on the counter along the wal,l and you with your back pressed against the island - with your coffees gripped in your hands and a soft silence between you. Cillian yawns again, another deep one that pulls his jaw tightly down, and you smile as he shakes his head as it eases off. “Fuck,” he mutters. It hadn't been too late when you had broken apart from your loving hug and silenced your ‘close if the day’ conversation in bed to settle to sleep last night, and in fact Cillian had been out of it before you had, and you're fairly certain that it was before midnight, too. Clearly it still hadn't been enough for him - perhaps the lack of sleep and abundance of alcohol the night before had had more of an effect than just giving him a thick head and mild nausea yesterday. “Will I make us a late breakfast after I've dropped Malachy off?” He suggests, smiling a little. “Pick something up on the way home?”

You raise your eyebrows, “Subway.” You say with an excited smile, “They make breakfast subs.”

He rolls his eyes at you as he sips his coffee. “Ah, go away,” he tuts. “I meant I could fly into like SuperValu or something.” He shakes his head at your eagerness for fast food. "Here, will I make us those bagels, remember the ones from that hotel in Monaghan.” He looks animated at the suggestion and you're immediately as delighted by the prospect.

You smile brightly, “Oh yeah, with the eggs, and the sausage-thing and the sauce.” You lick your lips comically. Cillian's dedication to vegetarianism could be flexible in its staunchness at times; while he chose to lean towards plant based or vegan options on occasion now, too, he was just as inclined to make the odd step back into meat-eater life, and the delicious egg and chorizo bagels you both were salivating over the thought of now was one of those examples.

“I'll run into the supermarket after I leave him in Tallaght then, so.” He says, and lifts his mug again. For whatever reason, you feel like this is the first time he's actually told you where Malachy is studying. You can't think at all if he's ever said anything before, and hate to sound as though you hadn't listened or aren't interested in asking him for clarification or details.

“What has he got on today?” You ask, wondering if he'll give you enough to work it out without asking him directly.

Cillian turns down the corners of his mouth and shrugs. “I haven't a clue,” he says, “But the business courses there go on the whole way, like Bachelor's and all.” He answers and you feel your anxiety subside a little. Malachy studies business at the Tallaght Campus of TUD - and you're more sure than ever he's never given you details before. “This little shit,” he shakes his head in amusement and places his mug down beside you on the island. “Hs fucking drags me out of the scratcher, and he's not even materialised down here yet.” You laugh lightly as he walks to the bottom of the stairs. “Malachy? Hey, Malachy? Are you up?” He shouts up, then gives a shrill whistle when he doesn't get an answer. “Hoi, Malachy, get up or I'll drag y’up!” He shakes his head as he walks back towards you. “Hes a fucker.”

You can't help finding the amusement in it all. And you can see he's happy to be doing day to day Dad things, too, despite his clear fatigue. “He wasn't expecting to be up, he'll be tired.” You say with a smile, then glance around at the clock above the cooker hood. “I have to go up and start work,” you say and move a step closer to him. You plant your mouth against his for a gentle kiss, and love the warmth of his arms as he wraps them around you.

“That sweatshirt is like a blanket.” He smirks as you pull away.

“I know, I love it. Especially up there, it's nice to be cosy while I'm working. I'm at the office tomorrow so I'm savouring the freedom to work in my pyjamas today.” You chuckle.

“You could work naked if you wanted, it's not like they're watching.” He laughs. You shake your head in amusement. But he continues with more ridiculous ideas. “Sure, we could be riding on the chair, and you in the middle of a string of emails….”

“Stop!” You laugh, and swat against his arm with an open palm. “You're an idiot.” you shake your head, but he's grinning at you and it's beautiful. “God! Do you think of anything other than sex when you're at home?”

He nods his head and you widen your eyes, waiting for another smartarsed comment. “Cheese,” he says, then laughs at himself as you turn and walk away, chuckling brightly.

You didn't hear him leave with Malachy, nor did you hear him get back home, but you can certainly hear him clattering about in the kitchen now, even two floors up. There's music blaring through Spotify on the TV and he's singing loudly to every track. You can hear it as clearly as if you were sitting down there, and that's with you having a single earbud in for your transcription tape. You pause the tape and save your document, then reach for your phone. It's a little before ten thirty and you know Cillian will be rattling around the house for a few more hours yet. Just knowing he's here is enough to make you feel comforted. You consider slipping down the stairs for a coffee, then you remember that Cillian has promised you breakfast bagels. Suddenly his banging around makes more sense. You reposition yourself in the chair and replace your earbud before continuing with your work.

You weren't exaggerating when you had told Cillian it was a big case. The details you'd read before were meek and mild in comparison to the testimony of the two children themselves. Not even over the age of ten and they'd seen and experienced horrors that would drive adults to insanity. You didn't know how anyone could treat children in these ways, and you didn't know how they'd survived at all. What you took from this aspect of your job, though, was that these children's voices were being heard - sometimes directly off the tapes, sometimes just metaphorically - and that meant those who had caused them harm were being exposed and more often than not, thankfully, being brought to their knees by the judicial system. For that reason, harrowing though it was, you knew there was likely never another role you'd want to take up. You felt, even in your small way, that you were a part of an instrumental band of people who helped these little ones out. Even so, it broke your heart and after a further twenty minutes, you pause the tape again and sit back in your chair with a sigh, drying the tears on your cheeks with the sleeve of your jumper. In all the cases you'd been part of up until now, this one was really hitting you hard. You sniff, determined not to fall too deeply into the darkness, and you're thankful of the disturbance when Cillian opens the door into the office and appears with a tray carrying not only your bagel and a coffee, but his too.

“Ah Y/N,” he says empathetically as he sets the tray onto the small table behind your chair. Your spin slowly, facing him fully. You're always amazed at his ability to read your emotions at a glance - not always to know your exact experiences but to always seem know when you're not your ‘default’ self. “Is it that bad?” He asks.

“Fuck, Cill, it's awful.” You tell him and sigh, shaking your head. You sniff and breathe out deeply. “The poor kids.”

He stands looking at you for a moment with such a gentle expression that you swear you can feel every feeling associated with your work here stepping back, even just a little. “How you can hurt your kids, I'll never fucking understand.” He shakes his head. “But here, c’mon and get this into ya.” He gestures at the table and sits down onto the sofa bed. You scoot the chair closer to the table and smile as he hands you your plate. The bagels - with toppings of smoothly sauced scrambled eggs, chopped chorizo, and spring onions - look simple, but it smells delicious, and you gratefully begin to tuck in with the knife and fork he's provided as Cillian sits back into the sofa with his own plate.

“Malachy get off okay?” You ask, holding your hand in front of your mouth as you talk over a bite of your food.

His own mouth stuffed, Cillian nods with his eyebrows raised as he chews. When he clears his mouthful, he swipes his tongue around his lips before he speaks. “When he finally appeared, yeah.” There's an edge to his tone, a minor irritation, but he's not angry in all sincerity. “He came in and woke me there for the lift out, and only went and got back into his own fucking bed.”

You shake your head with a light laugh, “Oh, he didn't?!”

“He's a messer, and he thought it was deadly craic once we were in the car!” Cillian smirks, and takes another bite from his bagel. “I thought about a nap but, sure, fuck it.”

You turn to your laptop for a moment, refreshing your emails, and reply to one from Amanda, the barrister you're assigned to. You leave your plate on the desk beside you - your bagel half attacked - and focus on your words to respond to her appropriately. Once sent, you snatch your plate back up and turn around to Cillian again. “Have you got plans for the next few hours? Last minute jobs or anything?”

He gives a single nod as he swallows the last mouthful of his food. Leaning forwards, he places the plate back onto the tray and brings his mug of herbal tea with him as he sits back again. “Sitting here with you.” He says.

“You'll be bored, Cill; I've got so much to do.” you say softly, but you're very endeared by his suggestion.

“Ah no, but sure, I can get a book,” he says and sips his tea, then his tone changes a little bit. “Or we can talk.”

You sense it immediately that he means ‘the talk’, and you look at him with a gentle frown, “Cill, now's not…”

“Now is the perfect time,” he says. “I'm going to be gone, bar the odd day here or there, until mid December. I can't carry it all for that long, Y/N, and neither can you. Sure, we shouldn't have to. The wondering or questions, or the guilt and concerns for each other. We're not angry here, not to the point we're hating one another I hope, at least.” He smirks and you can see he's nervous. “But you deserve answers to questions I know you have, and rightly so. I owe you those. And I want to explain myself, my choices and reasons, and without sounding like a cock, you owe me that.” He sits forwards and puts down his mug. “Contact Amanda, ask her for the afternoon off - annual leave, sickness, whatever you want to say. But I've from now ‘til around three-,” he says, “And I want to go to the airport later knowing we understand one another properly. And knowing that when I call ya, or when I come home, we're not gonna be arguing,”

You look back at him with a panicked feeling in the centre of your chest. He's right about needing to do this, you know he is, and he's right too about it being better now than later. You draw your bottom lip between your teeth and blink slowly as you breathe in deeply though your nose. You release your lip, sigh out your held breath noisily, and nod your head. “I'll email Amanda now, I'll say I have a migraine and I'll see her tomorrow.” You say and nervously turn back to your laptop. You tap out a brief but sufficient email and send it across. You sigh once again as you turn back around to him and then raise up your eyebrows. “Okay, so…” you shrug your shoulders. “Where do we start?”

You watch Cillian's expression change, like he's just realised the gravity of this, and he sits back on the sofa again. He raises his eyebrows back at you and absentmindedly runs his tongue over his lips. “I'm sorry I put it before you to be ready for a baby when you weren't. I know that maybe you wouldn't even have come to the decision you did want a baby if I hadn't pushed it. I'm sorry I changed my mind - and I'm going to be sorry for the rest of my fucking life for the way it eventually got told told to you that I had changed my mind.” He speaks with a measured and calm voice, and you know he's thinking about the words he says carefully. “But I changed my mind because of Mal, and Aran, and you, and me, and because of work and because of things that happened before now. I'm away so much, more now than ever, and being away from the boys in not living there, I feel like I'm putting extra distance there, like I don't give them enough. I changed my mind because if we had a baby, I'd be away from you and them too, more than I was for the boys, and that baby being here, with me, would look to the boys like I just moved on and started another life, and left them behind. Like, I can't be there for them all the time but I'd be living with this new child and it wouldn't be fair. And here, maybe they wouldn't think that way, but maybe they would - and I don't want to hurt them like that. I've hurt them enough. And I don't want to up and leave you and a wee one constantly with work; that's not fair on a child, and it's not fair on you. Y/N, I didn't change my mind because I don't want a baby with you - a baby with you would be amazing - but it wouldn't be worth all the sacrifices and...upset we would all be faced with. I just realised I couldn't do it, not to any of us.”

You'd suspected almost exactly this reason, and it was because of that you'd been able to so easily reconcile yourself with his change of mind for the most part, though his mention of past things had made your heart flutter. But the issue wasn't there, it was his choices surrounding that decision that were harder for you to accept or understand. “It's almost exactly what I expected. That's why I kept saying that I could deal with you changing your mind. What I can't understand is why you told her you weren't sure, and that you'd changed your mind once you'd come to that. I can't understand why you could call her up, or meet her, or go in for coffee when you were driving the boys, but you couldn't tell me when I've been right beside you.”

He sighs and it's loud, heavy, and you don't know if he's looking for reasons he hasn't got, or gearing up to tell you something you won't like. You're not sure which is worse - he turned to her because he had always turned to her in the past, which stings, or he turned to her because he had changed his mind about you, too. Your heart thuds heavily in your chest as you wait for his answer. “I never found the moment here but that's not your fault at all, it's mine. I was waiting for the perfect moment, but sure there wouldn't have been one, would there? I'd no fucking sense and put it off. I only talked to Yvonne because she caught me on the phone in bad humour one day, and I just let it all out at her. And I'd talked to her again about the kids that Friday day time before we went out. She was saying that Malachy wasn't coming, but Aran was, and she'd asked if I'd talked to you yet. Obviously I didn't know that you'd made your mind up and were going to tell me then, so when I got thick with you in the restaurant, it was because she'd reminded me of needing to sew me bollocks on and talk to you. But you got there first and I felt like a fucking eejit.”

*Did she change your mind for you?” You ask him and suddenly you feel like your anxiety is asking the questions now. There's an edge to your voice and you know he hears it by the way his brows twitch in together at the bridge of his nose. “In you, um, having concerns, did she give you a few more, and guilt you with Malachy and Aran?”

“No.” His reply is blunt, immediate, and with a single shake of his head. “I feel how I feel because it's - it's how I feel, it's what's I'm fucking afraid of. It isn't because of Yvonne, not in the way you think it is anyway. She didn't tell me it was a bad idea, not to do it. The only thing she encouraged or insisted on was that I shut up fecking moaning at her and tell you.” He sighs and shakes his head, and while he is staying so calm you can hear that accent creeping in and know the passion is behind his words. “When you said it yesterday, that if she was the reason for my decision then we'd need to talk about our relationship - fuck, Y/N, you floored me. That you'd think I’d be going behind your back, that you'd think I'd go back to her and be miserable like I was for months or more before we met. Or that I'd let her dictate anything that goes on here, with us. Jesus fuck, Y/N! Sure, I wish you'd let go of your own fucking guilt there, so that you'd stop expecting me to be fucking about because we did jt. You didn't break us up, you didn't cause an issue, you didn't…lure me off. I didn't fuck about on Yvonne then because I'm an arsehole, seduced like, by a young one! I didn't then, and I'm not now - not with anyone, and definitely not with Yvonne. I'm not talking with her outside of that there, and the kids, and pleasantries. You and I got talking that day in Busáras, and we'd a good chat. I didn't expect to be bumping into you again, but there you were a week later and you got me right after the worst week Yvonne and me had had in months. You didn't ruin us, you didn't break us, but by fuck, boy, did you make all the difference for me straight off. Since I made up my mind with where I was, all that’s been important to me is you and the lads. It's why I make half the decisions I do. My own stupidity would be the reason for the rest of my fucking choices.” There's a smirk and a shake of his head that you know means he's trying so hard to keep this a conversation, to not cause a row at all. “I'm gonna be forty nine next year; I've two grown sons, a failed fucking marriage, …but I have you.” He smiles softly as he looks at you. Your eyes haven't left him, you're scanning his face and taking mental notes on his words and his accent and pitch changes. You read it all, remember it all, because it gives everything away about him. So far, it's working. “I never want to be in a position again where something I've done comes back negatively on you again, or the boys. I know you think I don't care, but I do keep the perceptions of me in the back of me head. And of you. I don't want you slagged on th’internet, nor the kids to suffer.”

You take a deep breath as he falls quiet for a moment and watch him bring his right hand to his face. His fingers move back and forth over his lips, his tongue flicks around in his mouth and you can see it through his parted lips as it assaults the single, set-back lower tooth with side to side swishes. “All I could think about, after we'd had sex and not used anything, was about going back to that place in England by myself.” You watch his eyes close slowly at your words and you know he feels something there, the same as you. He'd reminded you of this, now, when he said that past things had helped him change his mind. Your mind flies straight back... You didn't blame him for the need to go, nor that you were alone - he wasn't able to do anything about that at all, and you were not punishing him for it - but you hated the thought of it ever being repeated like that. “Because you'd changed your mind, and we still fucked like that, and all I could think about was sorting it sooner this time, knowing sooner this time, so that we didn't have to do that - so that I didn't have to feel that again. I don't regret the termination, but I think I resented the possibility of having to feel those feelings again and feeling like you would just expect me to, because you'd changed your mind.” You take a deep breath and it shakes hard in your chest. “I'm not saying you would, I'm saying that's what I was scared of, what I was worried about. That and the feeling like I'd had my head whipped around because I'd finally wanted what I thought you wanted now, too.”

He's listens to you talking with his eyes closed and you know he is feeling it hard. He swallows hard, audible across the quiet room, and he drops his hand as he opens his eyes. “It kills me all the time that you'd to get the termination at all. I know we decided and it was the right thing - it was, I'll never change my mind on that; Yvonne and me weren't even separated at the time, but it was coming and if…" he takes a deep breath in, and his tongue swipes out over his lips in an anxious stim. “Y/N, it kills me that you'd to go through it, and alone, and that all I could do was fucking ring ya - and not see ya til, what? Four days later? Maybe it's half the reason I thought about a baby together being a good idea at the start, so you knew I'd never let you go through that again if it could be avoided. I dunno…” he sighs, and his breath shakes too. “I was an arsehole to have sex with no precautions around your birthday, because we were only after talking that little bit. It fucked with your head, and it put us in a position where we might have had to have had that fucking conversation again and I am so fucking sorry.”

You puff out your cheeks as you breathe out at his words, his declarations, and you nod your head slowly. “Yeah, but you were right that night in London. I didn't mention a fucking condom either.” You push your hands onto the armrests of the chair and get to your feet. His eyes stay on you as you round the table and drop down to the balls of your feet, crouching before his knees. “The termination before you were separated was the right choice. And it being some of the reason you're sure now, among other things, that kids aren't on the cards is understandable. And I am okay with that. You're a good man. You're not perfect, at all, but you're not intentionally cruel. I know my anxiety is a bone of contention, and so is my guilt, and I am sure it'll never go away completely. But I want you to know, please, that in this exact moment, I don't think you're sneaking around, or going back to her, and I completely understand why you changed your feelings. And I need you to know that I'm okay with those feelings, and that it's going to take me time to get back there, but I will be fine with us remaining just us.” Your palms rest on his knees - to steady yourself as much as to touch him - and you sits forwards more and places his hands over yours. “And I am forever thankful for my delayed coach, and Malachy's late trip return, on that day on Store Street. I never thought that Busáras would be a landmark for me in Dublin, but it is!” You smile and you can feel your eyes slowly welling with tears. You close your eyes and let them fall as he leans even closer, moving his face close to yours, and pushes his lips against yours.

He wraps his fingers around yours and takes your hands, pulling you up, “Sit down here,” he says, and insists you join him on the sofa. When you do, he wraps his arm around at his side and pulls you in. “You know I can even remember the top you had on.” He says after a moment of quiet. His cheek is resting on top of your head and your right hand is toying with the fingers of his right hand where they sit together on his thigh. You flick at his fingers and smooth your thumb back and forth, and you smile as he speaks about your first meeting. “A fucking Gaa jersey that was, eh, half Dublin and half fucking Galway. You said you hadn't a clue about Gaelic football but your friends were getting married and it was their respective counties, so you were meeting up for the hen do, and all the girls were wearing these jerseys!”

You laugh lightly, “That's right!”

“And me there hanging around like a knob for Malachy to come in from the school trip. You moved your bag off the chair there and let me sit down, and you'd not a fucking notion who I was, and it was so fucking cool.” He smiles and you can feel the movement of his cheek in your hair.

“You talked my ear off about Lennon, your boys, and a book about some journalist who fucks off to Europe.” You laugh a little. “Who'd have known we'd be here now?” He lifts his head from yours and, when he does, you look up at him. “I'd never have imagined but there's very little I'd change, or do differently, if we had a do-over.” You say softly, and a smile slowly pushes into his cheeks. “I really think that I do regret nothing with you.”

He fights his hand out of your fiddling fingers and brings his palm up against your cheek, then draws your face to his for a passionate kiss. His thumb smooths over your cheek as you move your head back slightly a moment later. “I love you.” He whispers, desperately quiet.

You haven't magically become fine, but his words are so important and affirming that you know that it will be okay. You can get through the future because you're dealing with the past, you tell yourself, and you've got him by your side as a rock or strength. You move until you can place your head on his shoulder and it's warm and loving when he wraps his arms around you and holds you close and tight. You're safe, you're reassured, and you can handle it all.

#cillian murphy #my fic #fanfic #fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfiction #reader fic #y/n fic #female reader #female y/n #reader x Cillian Murphy #reader x cillian #female reader x Cillian Murphy #female reader x cillian #y/n x cillian #y/n x cillian murphy #female y/n x cillian #female y/n x cillian murphy #angsty #angst

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year ago

Text

Whatever You Want

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: You've been having a difficult year adjusting to your life in Dublin, struggling with a few things that you've kept hidden from Michael so as not to burden him further. Though when he comes home unexpectedly early from a family meeting, you realize he's been reading you better than you'd thought.

Warnings/Tags: light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, soft Michael

a/n: Just a short little comfort fic to wrap up my Comfort Fic Week! Always love me a soft Mikey. Feedback is always appreciated!

Grabbing one of Michael’s shirts from the laundry basket on the bed next to you, you proceeded to fold it, your eyes staring absently out of the bedroom window beside the bed. The sky was overcast today, gray clouds hanging low despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to rain this morning. Somehow it seemed like the weather was reflecting your mood–or maybe amplifying it.

Hands moving of their own accord, you neatly stacked the now folded shirt on top of the pile of Michael’s other shirts before reaching into the laundry basket and removing another one to fold. Your hands continued to move mechanically as you worked, folding clothing item after clothing item as you removed each one from the basket.

Inevitably your mind began to wander.

Michael had already been gone by the time you'd awoken this morning. He had yet another family meeting to attend early today despite the fact that it was now Sunday. He'd been busy this entire past week taking care of a 'problem' with the family's supplier before spending the rest of the week cleaning up some issues on the business end of things. You’d barely seen him for days now, which wasn’t the usual between the two of you. And although he’d been excited to see you the handful of times you’d both run into each other at home this week, you had been distant.

Admittedly you’d been struggling for this entire past year that you’d officially been living in Dublin. Struggling under the weight of your own family issues that you often kept from Michael–because he already had enough problems to deal with when it came to his family. You’d also been struggling under the pressures of things at work, forced into playing the mediator between the two owners of your company who fought with each other like actual children on a near daily basis. It had been wearing on you for months now, but you yet again never revealed any of this to Michael. He was busy enough as it was, and even though he was nothing but loving and attentive to you when he was home, you knew he had enough on his mind to worry about. So you always greeted him with a smile when you two were together, choosing to shove everything down, down, down until you couldn’t feel it for a bit.

But truthfully? You felt like you were drowning. You missed your family now that you were living abroad in Ireland so you could be with Michael; a feat accomplished with the help of his family–the one good thing they had managed to accomplish for you both when they had fast tracked your visa. But all the health complications back home had you missing your family even more. And you had quickly begun to hate your job with a passion ever since the owners had begun to bicker and fight, leaving you to solve the company's problems. And the office work you were doing wasn't even remotely your dream job, but you knew it wasn't realistic for you to quit just to pursue a dream.

The sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs met your ears, causing your hands to momentarily pause their movements, the shirt partially folded in between them. You could hear the sound of Michael downstairs, opening the closet door and putting away his jacket and shoes. Brows furrowing together, you wondered why he was home so soon.

“Where ya at, love?”

Michael’s voice rang out through the house, the sound of it drowning out the noise in your head–for now. Stacking another shirt of his onto the pile, you turned over your shoulder and called back to him.

“Upstairs, Mikey. Just doing the laundry.”

You grabbed another pair of jeans from the basket, hearing the heavy and tired footfalls of Michael as he made his way up the stairs. As you sorted the pair of pants in your hands with the others, leaning across the bed to reach the pile, you heard Michael making his way across the bedroom before you felt him come up behind you. His arms were soon wrapping around your waist, his nose brushing back and forth against the side of your neck as he let out a pleased hum.

“Missed ya, pet,” he murmured.

Straightening back up, your hands landed on his forearms, giving them a gentle squeeze before you unwrapped them from around you. You felt the way Michael stiffened against the back of you, his face soon drawing away from your neck. Glancing over your shoulder at him, you sent him a brief, tense smile. He took a step back, his eyes narrowing as he studied you.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you back this morning,” you said, turning back towards the bed and reaching a hand into the basket, pulling out another piece of clothing to fold. “The meeting go alright?”

“Yeah, it was grand,” Michael answered distractedly. “Ya alright, love?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed out. “Just trying to catch up on laundry. Figured you’d be gone most of the day. Knew you were low on fresh clothes with how busy you’ve been this week. Thought I’d take care of it for you today.”

“Pet, ya know I could’ve done the laundry myself later today,” he told you.

You neatly stacked yet another one of his shirts onto the pile beside you, nodding as you reached your hand into the basket. You drew out the last piece of clothing, about to fold it, but Michael pulled the pair of pants from your hands.

“Hey, stop,” he said softly, catching your eye. “Is somethin’ wrong? Ya haven’t been acting like yourself all week.”

You bit back the urge to point out that he hadn’t actually seen you much this past week. Instead, you sent him another tense smile.

“I’m fine, Mikey,” you said, gesturing to the pants in his hands. “Now can I finish the laundry? I’ve got other things to take care of today.”

Michael drew the pants out of your reach, his dark brows knitting together. His lips thinned along his face as concern washed over his features.

“What other things have ya got to take care of?” he asked.

You sighed in irritation, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance with how he was slowing down your list of chores and errands for the day. Michael certainly helped out with many things around the house, but usually when the Kinsellas came to him to solve a plethora of problems for them, you were left to pick up the slack. Which is exactly what had happened this week on top of everything else you’d been silently dealing with.

“The house needs to be cleaned, Mikey,” you pointed out. “And the kitchen is an absolute disaster. I haven’t even managed to finish working my way through all of the dishes from the other night when Jimmy and Viking decided to eat every last damned thing in the house. Which also means I need to pick up groceries from the market still, and I haven’t even had a chance to sit down to make the list. Not to mention, I still have another two loads of laundry to take care of, so can you please just let me finish?”

A frown pulled the corners of Michael’s lips down, his hazel eyes softening as they held yours. A second later he expelled a rough breath, his shoulders dropping at the movement. When he tossed the unfolded pair of pants onto the bed, your eyes widened in shock. Your mouth opened, ready to chastise him for being so uncharacteristically callous, but he’d so tenderly grabbed your hands and drew you towards himself that the gesture quickly left you stunned and speechless. All you could do was stare in confusion at him as he drew you into himself.

“Forget ‘bout all o' that today,” he told you. “I’ll handle it tomorrow. All of it, I promise.”

“But don’t you have things you need to do?” you asked.

Michael wrapped his arms around your shoulders, one of his hands gently guiding your head to rest against his chest. Reluctantly you allowed it, though you were tense in his embrace, your body unable to relax. You really needed to get these things done because you didn’t feel like grabbing groceries at the market after work tomorrow.

“I’ll take the day off,” he replied. “Handle everythin’ at home. Even have dinner ready for us when ya finish work. Yeah?”

“Mikey, don’t promise me something that you can’t follow through on,” you warned him. “I know how your family is. I know they’re going to–”

“Hey, shh,” he hushed you, one of his hands soothingly running up and down your back. “I’ll tell ‘em no. Not to bother me tomorrow. Doesn’t matter what they say. Ya deserve some help ‘round here. Been takin’ care of everythin’ this past week–everythin’ this past year, really. And I wanna show ya that I appreciate it, love.”

“It’s not a big deal, I can handle it,” you told him, the lie almost automatic.

You felt him shift above you, resting his cheek against the top of your head. His hand continued to soothingly run the length of your back over and over, the calming feel of it slowly easing the tension in your muscles.

“I can tell ya have been stressed, pet,” Michael murmured. “Can see it on your face. Somethin’s been goin’ on with ya. It has me worried.”

Nervously your tongue slipped out, wetting your lips. You couldn’t believe he’d picked up on anything being off with you. You thought you’d been hiding everything from him so well. And you certainly didn’t need him worrying about you, too.

“I’m fine,” you whispered.

“Don’t lie to me,” Michael said, voice firm but not angry. “I know ya too well, love. I know ya aren’t alright.”

Turning your head, you buried your face into Michael’s chest, breathing in the scent of him. He smelled faintly like his leather jacket and gasoline, probably from riding his motorcycle this morning to the family meeting. Just beneath the scent of both of those you could smell the bit of his soap that always seemed to linger on his skin. It was something with sandalwood–you knew that because the nights he’d be out working a job and not coming home to you, you’d purposely shower with his soap. Just to feel like he was still there in bed with you. You couldn’t fall asleep otherwise.

“Tell ya what,” Michael said, breaking the silence that had fallen. “How ‘bout I take ya for coffee this mornin’? Your favorite shop. Then we can visit that little bookstore ya love so much. The one just on the corner? I’ll buy ya whatever ya want.”

A small smile slipped onto your lips and you reluctantly withdrew your face from where it had been buried against Michael’s chest, his own head withdrawing itself from the top of yours. Looking up at him, he was smiling warmly down at you, his eyes full of affection and love.

“Yeah?” you asked him softly.

“Buy ya the whole damn store if ya want,” he said, tone light and teasing as he grinned back at you. “And ya know I would, love. ‘S’not like I don’t have the money.”

“Okay,” you answered slowly, your attention shifting back to the laundry on the bed. “As long as you really will have time to take care of everything tomorrow though. Because I have to–”

Michael’s hand gently cupping your cheek and turning your face back towards him quickly quieted you. That warm smile was back on his face, the brightness of it reaching his eyes.

“Go get ready,” he ordered. “I’ll finish the rest of this. And the other stuff I’ll do tomorrow. Promise. Forget ‘bout it already, yeah? Just go take a few minutes for yourself.” His smile briefly faltered as he nervously added, “Then maybe afterwards ya can tell me ‘bout what’s been goin’ on? Ya keep lockin’ me out, pet, and I really wish ya would let me in. I want to help.”

“You just–just always have so much going on, Mikey,” you told him softly. “You don’t need my shit, too.”

“Hey,” he said firmly, his eyes narrowing as he lowered his face towards yours. “It isn’t shit, ya hear me? Ya matter to me. More than ya know. Don’t brush yourself off when it comes to me, love, alright? Talk to me. I’m beggin’ ya.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you slowly nodded. “Okay,” you agreed. “Later, I will.”

“Good,” he replied, gesturing his head towards the bathroom as a smile curved his lips upwards. “Now get your adorable arse ready. ‘Cause I wanna spoil my girl today. I’ll take care of the rest o’ the laundry.”

Feeling giddy at the prospect of having a day to spend where it was just you and Michael, grabbing coffee and buying books, you spun on your heel without further encouragement, hurrying your way to the bathroom to get ready.

°•°•°•°•°•°

You hummed out a curious noise, skimming over the summary on the back of the book in your hands for the second time. Behind you, you heard Michael huff out an amused, light laugh. The sound caught your attention and you looked up from the back cover, eyeing Michael’s smiling face curiously from his place beside you. He held up the small stack of books in his hands, gesturing his head towards the one you were still holding.

“Add it to the pile, love,” he urged. “Ya know ya want to. I can see it on your face with the way you’re lookin’ at it.”

Rolling your eyes you held out the book, a grin on your lips as you added it onto the stack Michael was holding. He shot you a flirtatious wink that only had you grinning wider, but when your eyes landed on the clock on the wall behind him, the grin faded. Surprise washed over you instead, a pang of guilt hitting you instantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me we’d been here for over two hours already?” you exclaimed, wide eyes landing back on Michael. “I’m so sorry, Mikey. I didn’t mean to be here so long!”

Michael only laughed, shaking his head back at you. “Pet, I told ya this mornin’ like I told ya over coffee before we came here–take as much time here as ya want. Buy whatever ya want. I’ve seen how much ya have been workin’ your arse off at that office this year. I know ya haven’t been goin’ shoppin’ or out to dinners with your friends as much lately.” Something like guilt spread across his face as he continued. “And I–I know I haven’t been ‘round as much the past few months, what with everythin’ goin’ on with the family. But I wanna change that. Startin’ today. Besides,” he said, suddenly looking a little shy, “I could honestly spend my day watchin’ the way ya wander ‘round in a bookstore. The way your face lights up when ya find a book–" he paused, that shy smile still on his mouth directed at you, "–the only other time ya look like that is when you’re lookin’ at me," he finished softly.

“Because you make me happy,” you told him, the grin returning to your lips.

“I know,” he replied with a nod.

“And coffee also makes me happy,” you added before gesturing a hand at the shelf beside you. “So do books. Best way to relieve stress is with a good book and some coffee.”

Michael chuckled, nodding his head even more as his own smile widened. "Exactly why I suggested gettin' coffee before buyin' books, love."

The corner of his lips twitched before his expression changed to something serious, his lips thinning as he shifted his weight back and forth on his feet, looking like he wanted to say something else. You hadn’t missed the shift in his mood as you curiously eyed him in return, wondering what was now suddenly on his mind.

"How has work been?" he asked carefully. "Ya seem stressed more than usual lately. Been worried 'bout ya."

Expelling a sigh at the topic change, you turned and made your way out of the aisle of books you both were in, searching for another one in particular as you mulled over his question. Michael followed closely behind you, still carrying the stack of your books in his arms as he walked.

"It's been difficult this year," you admitted slowly, eyes scanning the aisles as you looked at the different genre signs hanging above them. "I can't stand it lately, if I'm being honest," you finally confessed. "My bosses literally bicker in every meeting I have with them and I'm always trapped playing their mediator, always left cleaning up the company problems they don’t even deal with." Hands curling into fists at your sides, you could feel your irritation returning at the thought of work tomorrow. "They don't even talk about work most of the time anymore, either. I swear, they're going to run their business into the ground if they keep it up."

"Then quit."

You abruptly stopped in front of the aisle you'd been looking for at his blunt suggestion. Turning swiftly on your heel, you looked back at Michael in confusion and shock.

" Quit ?" you asked him in disbelief.

He shrugged easily. "Yeah," he answered. "Quit. You've always hated it there and now it's upsettin' ya. So quit. 'S'not like ya need the money. Ya know I'll take care of ya."

"Mikey," you said, pulling a face, "I'm not going to just sit at home and be some–" you waved a hand through the air, "–trophy wife. Or–or girlfriend or whatever," you awkwardly added when Michael’s smile grew at your word choice. "I like feeling productive."

"Your choice, love, but I happen to think ya would make a fine trophy wife," he playfully teased, shooting you another wink. "But ya know I've got ya. So quit. Find somethin' ya like. Because I know that's not what you're passionate 'bout."

With a huff you turned, focusing back on the aisle before you. You stepped into it, eyeing the books on the shelves as you looked for one in particular.

"Say it like it's that easy," you muttered, eyes scanning the various titles.

"It is," Michael pressed. "Give 'em your notice tomorrow. Quit. Do what you're passionate about. Because I know you've been dying to do photography instead. And you're damn good at it, love. And I know ya been dyin' to work for yourself.”

Chewing your lip, you let his suggestion settle in your mind. He was right, you did want to do photography. You'd been talking about it since you'd first met him. And you had been��dying to work for yourself, especially with how your bosses had been this past year. It would be nice to do something you were actually passionate about, and you did know that Michael would take care of you while you started up the business–he'd already told you he wanted to marry you. He certainly wasn’t planning to go anywhere.

You hummed out a noise, your hand reaching out and pulling the book you'd been looking for off of the shelf. "Alright," you told him, turning around and placing the book on the stack in his hands. "I'll quit tomorrow," you told him. "You're right, photography is my passion. And if you're going to push me–"

"I absolutely insist ya do, love," he cut you off.

"Alright," you repeated, nodding your head. "I'll do it."

Michael's smile grew even wider, the warmth of it reaching his eyes as they fondly gazed back at you. You couldn’t fight the smile on your own face knowing that you’d never get over how lucky you were to have met him–or how handsome he looked when he smiled at you like that.

Eventually Michael's eyes curiously glanced down to the book you'd so quickly placed onto the pile he was carrying. A look of confusion crossed his face, brows drawing together as he looked back up at you.

"One Hundred Years of Solitude?" he asked.

"Yeah," you said, your smile turning cheeky as you made your way out of the aisle and over towards the register. "It's for you. About time you read something that wasn't a Steinbeck, babe."

#michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella x you #michael kinsella #michael kinsella fluff #bellas comfort fic week #kin amc

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coochiequeens · 5 months ago

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'It stains your brain': How social media algorithms show violence to boys." Make no mistake boys and young men were disgusting before they had access to smart phones but this and parents not willing to admit there's an issue are creating a whole new problem.

Cai says violent and disturbing material appeared on his feeds "out of nowhere"

By Marianna Spring BBC Panorama

It was 2022 and Cai, then 16, was scrolling on his phone. He says one of the first videos he saw on his social media feeds was of a cute dog. But then, it all took a turn.

He says “out of nowhere” he was recommended videos of someone being hit by a car, a monologue from an influencer sharing misogynistic views, and clips of violent fights. He found himself asking - why me?

Over in Dublin, Andrew Kaung was working as an analyst on user safety at TikTok, a role he held for 19 months from December 2020 to June 2022.

He says he and a colleague decided to examine what users in the UK were being recommended by the app’s algorithms, including some 16-year-olds. Not long before, he had worked for rival company Meta, which owns Instagram - another of the sites Cai uses.

When Andrew looked at the TikTok content, he was alarmed to find how some teenage boys were being shown posts featuring violence and pornography, and promoting misogynistic views, he tells BBC Panorama. He says, in general, teenage girls were recommended very different content based on their interests.

TikTok and other social media companies use AI tools to remove the vast majority of harmful content and to flag other content for review by human moderators, regardless of the number of views they have had. But the AI tools cannot identify everything.

Andrew Kaung says that during the time he worked at TikTok, all videos that were not removed or flagged to human moderators by AI - or reported by other users to moderators - would only then be reviewed again manually if they reached a certain threshold.

He says at one point this was set to 10,000 views or more. He feared this meant some younger users were being exposed to harmful videos. Most major social media companies allow people aged 13 or above to sign up.

TikTok says 99% of content it removes for violating its rules is taken down by AI or human moderators before it reaches 10,000 views. It also says it undertakes proactive investigations on videos with fewer than this number of views.

Andrew Kaung says he raised concerns that teenage boys were being pushed violent, misogynistic content

When he worked at Meta between 2019 and December 2020, Andrew Kaung says there was a different problem. He says that, while the majority of videos were removed or flagged to moderators by AI tools, the site relied on users to report other videos once they had already seen them.

He says he raised concerns while at both companies, but was met mainly with inaction because, he says, of fears about the amount of work involved or the cost. He says subsequently some improvements were made at TikTok and Meta, but he says younger users, such as Cai, were left at risk in the meantime.

Several former employees from the social media companies have told the BBC Andrew Kaung’s concerns were consistent with their own knowledge and experience.

Algorithms from all the major social media companies have been recommending harmful content to children, even if unintentionally, UK regulator Ofcom tells the BBC.

“Companies have been turning a blind eye and have been treating children as they treat adults,” says Almudena Lara, Ofcom's online safety policy development director.

'My friend needed a reality check'

TikTok told the BBC it has “industry-leading” safety settings for teens and employs more than 40,000 people working to keep users safe. It said this year alone it expects to invest “more than $2bn (£1.5bn) on safety”, and of the content it removes for breaking its rules it finds 98% proactively.

Meta, which owns Instagram and Facebook, says it has more than 50 different tools, resources and features to give teens “positive and age-appropriate experiences”.

Cai told the BBC he tried to use one of Instagram’s tools and a similar one on TikTok to say he was not interested in violent or misogynistic content - but he says he continued to be recommended it.

He is interested in UFC - the Ultimate Fighting Championship. He also found himself watching videos from controversial influencers when they were sent his way, but he says he did not want to be recommended this more extreme content.

“You get the picture in your head and you can't get it out. [It] stains your brain. And so you think about it for the rest of the day,” he says.

Girls he knows who are the same age have been recommended videos about topics such as music and make-up rather than violence, he says.

Cai says one of his friends became drawn into content from a controversial influencer

Meanwhile Cai, now 18, says he is still being pushed violent and misogynistic content on both Instagram and TikTok.

When we scroll through his Instagram Reels, they include an image making light of domestic violence. It shows two characters side by side, one of whom has bruises, with the caption: “My Love Language”. Another shows a person being run over by a lorry.

Cai says he has noticed that videos with millions of likes can be persuasive to other young men his age.

For example, he says one of his friends became drawn into content from a controversial influencer - and started to adopt misogynistic views.

His friend “took it too far”, Cai says. “He started saying things about women. It’s like you have to give your friend a reality check.”

Cai says he has commented on posts to say that he doesn’t like them, and when he has accidentally liked videos, he has tried to undo it, hoping it will reset the algorithms. But he says he has ended up with more videos taking over his feeds.

Ofcom says social media companies recommend harmful content to children, even if unintentionally

So, how do TikTok’s algorithms actually work?

According to Andrew Kaung, the algorithms' fuel is engagement, regardless of whether the engagement is positive or negative. That could explain in part why Cai’s efforts to manipulate the algorithms weren’t working.

The first step for users is to specify some likes and interests when they sign up. Andrew says some of the content initially served up by the algorithms to, say, a 16-year-old, is based on the preferences they give and the preferences of other users of a similar age in a similar location.

According to TikTok, the algorithms are not informed by a user’s gender. But Andrew says the interests teenagers express when they sign up often have the effect of dividing them up along gender lines.

The former TikTok employee says some 16-year-old boys could be exposed to violent content “right away”, because other teenage users with similar preferences have expressed an interest in this type of content - even if that just means spending more time on a video that grabs their attention for that little bit longer.

The interests indicated by many teenage girls in profiles he examined - “pop singers, songs, make-up” - meant they were not recommended this violent content, he says.

He says the algorithms use “reinforcement learning” - a method where AI systems learn by trial and error - and train themselves to detect behaviour towards different videos.

Andrew Kaung says they are designed to maximise engagement by showing you videos they expect you to spend longer watching, comment on, or like - all to keep you coming back for more.

The algorithm recommending content to TikTok's “For You Page”, he says, does not always differentiate between harmful and non-harmful content.

According to Andrew, one of the problems he identified when he worked at TikTok was that the teams involved in training and coding that algorithm did not always know the exact nature of the videos it was recommending.

“They see the number of viewers, the age, the trend, that sort of very abstract data. They wouldn't necessarily be actually exposed to the content,” the former TikTok analyst tells me.

That was why, in 2022, he and a colleague decided to take a look at what kinds of videos were being recommended to a range of users, including some 16-year-olds.

He says they were concerned about violent and harmful content being served to some teenagers, and proposed to TikTok that it should update its moderation system.

They wanted TikTok to clearly label videos so everyone working there could see why they were harmful - extreme violence, abuse, pornography and so on - and to hire more moderators who specialised in these different areas. Andrew says their suggestions were rejected at that time.

TikTok says it had specialist moderators at the time and, as the platform has grown, it has continued to hire more. It also said it separated out different types of harmful content - into what it calls queues - for moderators.

'Asking a tiger not to eat you'

Andrew Kaung says that from the inside of TikTok and Meta it felt really difficult to make the changes he thought were necessary.

“We are asking a private company whose interest is to promote their products to moderate themselves, which is like asking a tiger not to eat you,” he says.

He also says he thinks children’s and teenagers’ lives would be better if they stopped using their smartphones.

But for Cai, banning phones or social media for teenagers is not the solution. His phone is integral to his life - a really important way of chatting to friends, navigating when he is out and about, and paying for stuff.

Instead, he wants the social media companies to listen more to what teenagers don’t want to see. He wants the firms to make the tools that let users indicate their preferences more effective.

“I feel like social media companies don't respect your opinion, as long as it makes them money,” Cai tells me.

In the UK, a new law will force social media firms to verify children’s ages and stop the sites recommending porn or other harmful content to young people. UK media regulator Ofcom is in charge of enforcing it.

Almudena Lara, Ofcom's online safety policy development director, says that while harmful content that predominantly affects young women - such as videos promoting eating disorders and self-harm - have rightly been in the spotlight, the algorithmic pathways driving hate and violence to mainly teenage boys and young men have received less attention.

“It tends to be a minority of [children] that get exposed to the most harmful content. But we know, however, that once you are exposed to that harmful content, it becomes unavoidable,” says Ms Lara.

Ofcom says it can fine companies and could bring criminal prosecutions if they do not do enough, but the measures will not come in to force until 2025.

TikTok says it uses “innovative technology” and provides “industry-leading” safety and privacy settings for teens, including systems to block content that may not be suitable, and that it does not allow extreme violence or misogyny.

Meta, which owns Instagram and Facebook, says it has more than “50 different tools, resources and features” to give teens “positive and age-appropriate experiences”. According to Meta, it seeks feedback from its own teams and potential policy changes go through robust process.

#Teenage boys and violent social media #Teenage boys and misogynistic social media #Algorithms #Teenage girls and social posts about makeup #TikTok #Meta

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eretzyisrael · 8 months ago

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Good News From Israel

Israel's Good News Newsletter to 26th May 24

In the 26th May 24 edition of Israel’s good news, the highlights include:

Israeli technology helps Irish doctors early-diagnose potentially fatal diseases.

Another female designer of Israeli missile defense systems.

200 Israeli hi-tech engineers donate their time to develop life-saving solutions.

An Israeli startup removes a greenhouse gas far more potent than CO2.

The first Israeli auto-industry company to set up a factory in India.