Jul 18
this look is so dad cillian augh it solving my daddy issues
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this look is so dad cillian augh it solving my daddy issues
i have something inappropriate to say about these pictures
Whose your celebrity crush
Whose your celebrity Crush?
Ryan gosling
Micheal be Jordan
Cillian Murphy
Other
Hi guys Ayaa and her family are living through genocide in Gaza and need help. Please donate
tags are for reach
My name is Ayaa from Gaza city, I am a children’s teacher, 24 years old, living with my parents and siblings. We all used to live a peacefu
can you guess who my character is?
I hope this doesn’t come across the wrong way. I love Cillian Murphy and the fandom around him and his movies. But as someone who’s a fan of Cillian Murphy and his movies and partakes in the x reader side of things I feel really weird about the way certain people write about him and his movies. Like The wind that shakes the Barley and Small things like these are movies about Imperialism in Ireland by the British empire and the Catholics churches mass abuse of women and children in Ireland ( which is an after effect of imperialism by the British). I just don’t think it’s appropriate to be writing about this movies in a fanfic way. I’m absolutely not saying you can’t make fanfic about serious movies, I’d be a giant hypocrite if that was the case. I’m just saying these are real events that still have tangible effects to this day and as someone who has family who lives in Ireland I just wish more thought was put into it, you know. Or Oppenheimer, like as someone who’s family was genocide in World War Two, I do think it’s flat out bad to be writing x reader for Oppenheimer considering the the atrocities he was responsible for in real life. ( honestly unlike the other two movies I think Oppenheimer is responsible for this for being essentially a crying and shooting movie for imperialists but that’s a separate post) Again please don’t take this a me trying to cancel anyone, I adore this fandom and its writers. There some of the most talented, kind and intelligent people you will ever have the pleasure to meet. I just wish some things were handled with more nuance, care and consideration for when it’s appropriate to write about something.
Behind Closed Doors (Part 32)
“Oh, fuck,” you stated, the words flat and slow.
“Oh my God, Y/N,” Livvy gasped, instantly seizing up with panic. “Your waters have broken! Oh my God, what do we do?!”
“Just help me clean up,” you said, your tone surprisingly calm, already looking for a towel.
“Y/N, we have to get to the hospital like now!” she was practically screaming, the pitch already grating on your nerves.
“Would you relax!” you snapped back. “Jesus Christ. Labor can start hours later. Let me call my midwife.” You walked to the kitchen to get your maternity notes.
“Are you sure it's alright?” she asked, worried, and you shot her an unimpressed roll of your eyes that answered the question for her.
You spoke to your midwife. Since your mucus plug had dropped a week ago and you weren't dilated then, she advised you to rest, get moving, and that walking could help. She wanted you to wait for contractions; if nothing happened in 24 hours, you'd head to the hospital for induction. At 36 weeks, it was early, but the baby was measuring fine in your last scan, and you reassured yourself that her organs were well-developed.
You changed your clothes, opting for leggings and staying in your bra because of the sudden heat, and moved to the living room. You started bouncing and swaying your hips on your ball, determined that this baby was going to come naturally, even though you’d privately thought a C-section was inevitable.
Cillian was nowhere to be found. He always left his phone on his trailer—so utterly typical. He wasn't supposed to get off work until late, so it could be hours before you'd hear from him. You didn't want to bother him until it got serious, but Livvy, ignoring your warning look, quickly texted him just one line: “Y/N’s waters have broken.” She sent it into the void and prayed he saw it soon.
You soon grew bored of the yoga ball, too, and started packing your hospital bag. Elisa’s little bag was ready, but yours was still sitting on the to-do list.
“Just sit down,” Livvy commanded, pointing toward the bed, but you were restless and anxious.
“It’s fine, I can do it,” you protested, but she spread her arms out, blocking the way.
“I’m serious, Y/N. I don’t know how you can be so calm,” she said. You finally complied, sitting on the edge of the bed; your back was starting to kill you.
“Me neither, I mean. I’ve heard horror stories, but my pregnancy has been so… peaceful.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Physically,” you corrected, knowing what she meant.
“Remember that thing with your placenta and all? Where are your knickers?”
“Jesus, thanks, Liv. I’m trying to stay positive here. Left top drawer,” you sighed, knowing you were lying to yourself. It felt like the quiet before the storm.
“Shit, sorry, babe, you know what I mean.” She came over to hug you, and you felt tears well up in your eyes. “I just want you and this little princess to be safe. I love you so much.”
“Me too,” you squeezed her tight. She went back to the drawer as you dabbed your eyes. You were getting hungry and suddenly very hot.
“Aha!” she exclaimed, holding up a delicate, lacy white bodice. You instantly flushed and let out a genuine, teary-eyed laugh. She always knew how to cheer you up.
“I didn't know you still had fun!” she teased.
“Ha! I couldn't fit into those now even if I tried—they’d rip all over,” you joked. She kept rummaging, pulling out a plum bra and panties set, then a grey silk one. “Oh my God, stop, please!” you pleaded, blushing hotly at the rush of memories those sets brought back.
“Cillian’s a lucky man!”
“I bought those long ago, when we first started, actually,” you reminisced, gently rubbing your hand over your belly. You’d had cramps all day, but you thought the baby was just pushing down.
Livvy paused, folding a stack of soft t-shirts and sweats. “Can I say something?” she asked seriously. “I never thought he would stay. Like, really stay and commit. I honestly thought he was going to run away.”
“Yeah, he was a real coward back then,” you recalled, remembering the sharp sting of heartbreak when he’d temporarily bolted earlier in your relationship.
“Good thing he’s not anymore,” she said quickly.
“Yeah, well, let’s see how he manages this,” you scoffed, signaling dramatically at your entire current situation. “I can picture his face when he sees me ten centimeters dilated—just… boah.” You punctuated the image with a gesture of explosive chaos.
“I don’t know how you can do it,” she admitted, looking terrified.
“Me neither, I’m shit scared.”
“Don’t worry, baby, just think how worth it it will be when she’s in your arms.” You smiled, suddenly feeling nauseous and lightheaded. A wave of hunger hit, but you knew it was the hormones as you quickly ran to the toilet and brought up all the lunch you’d just had.
“Shit, Y/N, are you alright?” Livvy rushed behind you.
“Yeah, it’s normal, I think,” you mumbled, dabbing your eyes.
___________________
Cillian had been going through script readings and filming scenes all day. He was deep in the zone, working hard, and in the rare moments between takes, he was either resting or trying to unwind from the intense character he was playing. He, too, was scared. He didn't know how he was going to manage filming a demanding project while simultaneously welcoming a newborn. They were in the middle of production; he couldn't just take two weeks off. He had to be everywhere, and you, sensing his stress, hadn't wanted to bother him too much.
In the middle of a scene change, he felt the familiar urge to check on you, as you typically texted and talked throughout the day. On the break, he strode quickly to his trailer and grabbed his phone. The color instantly drained from his face when he saw Livvy’s single, stark text. He immediately clicked your contact and rang, once, twice, three times—his leg was shaking frantically beneath his costume trousers when you finally picked up.
“Hi, sorry, I was in the loo,” you said, your voice deceptively calm. You settled back onto the kitchen stool while Livvy made some tea and toast for you.
“How—wha—are you okay? Your waters have broken?” he stammered, already pacing back and forth in the narrow confines of his trailer.
“Wha—how do you know?” Your eyebrow knitted together in confusion.
“Livvy texted me.”
“Fucks sake,” you mumbled under your breath. “I’m fine, love, really, nothing yet, and I spoke to the midwife.”
“Y/N, I’m coming home.”
“No, don’t worry, really, it’s fine. The midwife will come to check on me later. For now, just finish your workday, and we’ll see how things are tomorrow.” You knew he would protest. But you were as stubborn as him, and given your short patience these days, he knew better than to push back.
“Okay, fine. I have about two hours left. I’ll try to rush things here.” You could sense his stress mounting—the way he was running a hand through his perpetually messy hair and that little tick of furiously tonguing his slightly crooked tooth.
“Keep your phone with you. I'll text you if anything happens.”
“Kay, bye. Love you,” he said.
“Love you,” you replied. As soon as you hung up, you felt a light contraction start, just like the ones from the past few days.
You spent the hours moving, stretching, and swaying on the floor in the living room while you watched TV. You tried the sofa, the floor, your ball, getting increasingly frustrated. You watched a movie and texted your sisters and mother snapping a quick picture for them.
Your mother called as soon as she saw the message. She talked your ear off rambling about what you should do and how exited she was. You were getting contractions now and just wanted to hang up and jump in the bath to regulate your body temperature and ease the pressure on your groin and back. The pain was getting too strong now, and you couldn’t stay still.
The midwife arrived right on time. She examined you and confirmed that everything was okay. The baby was well positioned, and you were three centimeters dilated. Still too little to go to the hospital.
The pressure on your hips and back was killing you, and breathing through the contractions felt impossible. You didn't know how it could possibly get worse.
“Alright, you wanna play daddy?” the midwife said to Livvy, and she instructed you to get on all fours.
“Sure,” Livvy said eagerly, ready to be useful in more ways than just making endless cups of tea that just made you nauseous.
“Just press on her back and hips with your knees and fists,” the midwife showed her as you breathed heavily.
“Like this?” Livvy asked, unsure.
“Ooh, yeah,” you groaned, the pressure from Livvy’s hands instantly easing the blinding peak of the contraction. The waves were getting harder, sharp and demanding, but the timing was still frustratingly irregular. You closed your eyes, wishing Cillian was here right now. You tried to rest, to eat, to move—but nothing offered true relief. You just wanted this phase to be over, ready to finally be holding your baby with Cillian.
As if summoned by your need, Cillian burst through the door about half an hour after the midwife left. He had his eyes wide and panicked. “Hi, love,” he rushed, running straight to you and kissing your sweaty forehead.
“Hi. You just missed it. The biggest one yet,” you managed to joke, though your hair was sticking damply to your forehead. He’d been worried sick and explained he'd scrambled out early, the cast sending their regards to you. As he rubbed your belly, absorbing the details, Livvy retreated to the kitchen, visibly pacing—you’d think she was the one about to give birth.
“Did you eat? Do you want something?” he asked, already sliding down to massage your feet.
“Mmm, no. Just feel a bit nauseous,” you admitted, tired and weak.
“Just wait here,” he murmured, quickly walking to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water.
“How has she really been?” Cillian whispered, pacing the kitchen floor. He still had his back to Livvy, demonstrating his complete lack of patience for small talk.
“Great,” Livvy hissed back, “but Cill, I think she needs to get to a hospital. It’s better to be there if anything happens. It could be dangerous.”
“I know,” he sighed, glancing toward the living room where he could hear your low moans. “She just won't listen. Thinks she has everything under control.”
Livvy didn't wait for his decision. “Go and get the bags,” she instructed firmly.
He walked into the bedroom to gather the bags and your coat, returning to the living room a moment later. He stopped short when he saw your bizarre position. He laughed confusedly. “What are you doing?”
You were on the floor on all fours, swaying side to side as another wave hit. You were trying to speed up the process and were now really considering going to the hospital.
“She needs to come out the same way she came in,” you gasped breathlessly.
He let out a choked, breathy laugh and knelt beside you on the carpet. “You’ll have to lay on your side for that, y/n,” he teased gently, trying to coax you up. “Come on, love, let’s go.”
“Yeah, we should—AH!” You screamed, the act of standing triggering a massive contraction that nearly buckled your knees from the sheer pain and pressure.
Tags:
@morgan-getty @imyourlittlechaos @cillmequick
Just discovered Cillian Murphy and my legs are QUAKING.
Expect a fanfic of him soon ☺️
cillian murphy in batman begins is so daddy it hurts