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ayomurphys · 1 year ago

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AHHHHH!!!!! Im so excited for this omg. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten invested in a series so this is ~~~~ everything to me. Also a non-white oc is taking me out im so fucking excited cillian fans of color has like 3 of this (tho I know Kurdish people (?) can look white so if she is then lol I apologize)

That being said I love the set up already!! Her backstory (I love a good OC backstory, yk!!! We deserve to get to know her!!!) and also a brief insight into his. Also Cillian w his friends is always so fun to read grrrr I love when Cillian gets ~lightly~ bullied.

Anyway can’t wait, tysm for posting !!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Hi :) this is the first chapter of the Shadow of the Sea, let me know what you think about it in the comments. A big thank you to @cillmequick for beta-reading and being the sweetest person ever. I wouldn't have published it without her assurance that it doesn't completely suck.

World: In this AU set in 2010, Cillian has just finished filming 'Inception'. He has never been married, and after a few disappointing relationships, he finds himself feeling blocked in his personal life, even as his career continues to rise.This is a completely fictional story, not based on real life. I wrote this with the utmost respect for the man and his family.

Warning: Homesickness, Family Distance, Mention of Sexual Assault (not between OC and Cillian), Sexual Harassment, Date Rape Drug/Roofies

Words: 2700

Part 1: Eire's Depths

Closing the laptop with too much force, Jiyan started massaging her temples, hoping to alleviate the tension and praying she wouldn't have to deal with a migraine anytime soon.

The library was silent; the only sound was the rain against the windows, soothing the last students. Even during the examination period, there were only a few people left in the study area. Most students had already headed to the pub for pints or were getting ready for the clubs later.

Jiyan checked her phone, noticing too many messages she had been ignoring since the morning. Sighing, she opened her brother's chat and found three unread messages.

14h11: Ready for a call later?

16h22: Mom is pacing, almost started ironing. You need to call tonight.

18h42: Seriously sis... if you don't call tonight, I will sedate her and take the first plane to yours.

Jiyan chuckled and quickly answered Mikael.

19h13: Ironing, huh? Almost need an intervention.

19h13: Will call soon, little bro. Don't despair.

Clearing the table of books and notes, she put her laptop and the last few things away in her backpack.

Outside, it was raining. Again.

And it was dark. Already.

Coming from a country where the sun kissed Jiyan's skin almost every day, the continuous rain on this island pierced her heart each time. She was tired and hoped to get home, have a cup of tea, and finally make the call she had been postponing for the last two weeks, perhaps even forgetting what she was doing on this verdant yet depressingly weathered island.

The ride to her place was fast, and the bus was on time, something she was gradually getting used to. Entering the small studio made her feel restless and anxious, intensifying the pressure on her temples. Looking around the space she had started calling home in the last few months did ease her discomfort a little.

Having spent her childhood moving to different countries, Jiyan was acutely aware of the housing crises almost everywhere. Still, she was taken aback by the difficulty of finding a flat in Dublin.

After a month spent in a hostel dorm and countless useless house visits, her desperation reached a point where she considered a dubious Craigslist post seeking help in renovating an old studio.

When she first checked it out, she realized the studio was actually above a car repair shop, and apparently, no one had lived there for about 30 years. Sean, the guy who owned the shop, almost cracked up when she asked about costs and materials. It took her a good 5 minutes to persuade him that she was capable of almost any woodworking task and that she could undertake the restorations in her spare time and during weekends if she could live there. They struck a deal: Sean would foot the bill for materials, and until the renovation was done, she'd cover her living expenses by doing all the work herself.

After two months of solid effort, she'd managed to put in new wood floors, set up a functional bathroom with a brand-new shower, and even start building herself a kitchen. Sure, the place was small, didn't have central heating, and still looked like a bit of a mess, but the one thing that sealed the deal for her was the wood stove. It reminded her of her mom’s cabin up in the mountains, where she'd spend lazy afternoons by the fire, lost in a good book with a cup of tea in hand. So, if she could bring a bit of that cozy feeling into her new place, she figured she'd be all set, even with juggling her university work and research study.

It took a couple of minutes to get the fire going and put the kettle on for some fresh mint green tea. Once she finished her first cup, she dialed her little brother's number.

"Finally, are you becoming such a loser that you're spending your Saturday at the library now?"

"It's called work, Mika. Something you'll learn soon enough."

"Yeah, of course, like I'm not living with a psychopath right now. She almost started ironing the bed sheets, Aji. We need an intervention here, immediately. Mom never cleans; she moved from Turkey because she couldn't stand spending her time cleaning. You need to convince her that you're fine."

"I am fine," Jiyan repeated for the thousandth time. "And Mom moved from Turkey because we're Kurds, and she wanted to avoid spending her time in jail for teaching her language in school."

"You're fine?" Mikael said incredulously. "You're living in the land of Mordor. It's been a week since you've seen any sun; I checked the weather!"

"It's not that bad. I'm starting to like the rain," Jiyan said, convincing no one. "And I like the job."

"Is that Aji?" she heard her mom in the background, stealing the phone from her brother.

"Aji, how are you?" her mother's worried voice asked.

"Hey Mom, I'm good. Mika told me you need an intervention."

"Your brother should be studying for his finals, focusing on his Latin test," Jiyan's mother said after a pause. "It's been weeks since we've heard from you, Jiyan."

Jiyan stared out of the window, feeling guilt and pressure rising in her chest.

"I'm sorry, Mom. It's just... I'm super busy with work and renovation here. I started building the kitchen from scratch, and most of the time, I forget to check my phone. I'm fine, really," she tried to reassure her.

"You're avoiding, little star, and today is a difficult day for you. You should be here, not alone on an island without sun," her mother insisted.

Jiyan really didn't want to have this conversation; she moved to this island to avoid this topic.

"It's all good, Mom. It's not a big deal," she said. "Also, I'm meeting new people; it's a good change," she added, feeling the lie stinging her tongue.

She heard her mom sigh. "I miss you, little star."

"I miss you too, Mom. Also, Mika, I need to go now. I'll call you next week."

"You do that, or I'm sending your brother there to check on you."

Jiyan chuckled and smiled. "We'll lose him at the first change of trains."

"Every battle has its losses."

Now really laughing, she closed the call. "Love you, Mom."

"Love you too, little star."

Jiyan put down her phone, staring again at the window. She knew she needed a distraction and couldn't spend the rest of the day inside alone. Not even building furniture could distract her today.

She put on her jacket and boots, grabbed the keys, almost sprinting outside in the rain.

Again.

Snap.

5 points.

Snap.

5 points.

Snap.

15 points.

Sighing disappointedly, Jiyan walked over to the dartboard to retrieve the darts. It had been two weeks since she discovered this pub near her place. The music was usually pretty good, and it could be a cozy spot during weeknights. It wasn't usually too crowded, which suited her just fine. She'd come in to have a soda and play darts, avoiding the regulars and the occasional group of tourists who tried to strike up a conversation.

She knew she stood out as a woman in a pub on a Saturday night, playing darts alone. That night, she had already dodged two American tourists who tried to flirt and offer to "teach her" how to play.

On the other hand, the regulars, after giving her strange looks for the first couple of nights, now hardly noticed or bothered her, accepting the odd loner who didn't drink beer and spent hours throwing darts. Tonight, unfortunately, the pub was busier than usual, with some tourist groups disturbing her vibe.

Feeling a presence behind her, she tensed up immediately.

"Hey, baby, what are you drinking? Can I buy you the next round?"

Jiyan turned around to face a stranger who looked like the typical Chad character from any American high school drama.

"No thanks, I'm good," she replied shortly, turning back to focus on her game.

"Come on, I saw you looking at me. You were checking me out, I saw you."

"Excuse me?" she said, annoyed, not having a clue what he was talking about.

"Yeah, when you went to order your drink, you smiled. The guys and I are having a blast; you could come join us. I promise you a great night."

Jiyan took a deep breath, trying not to get too annoyed. "Listen, Chad, if that's even your name—I don't care. I'm not here to make friends or have a good time with your guys. I was having fun until 30 seconds ago when I didn't even know of your existence. Can we go back to that, please? Thanks, bro."

"My name's not Chad," he replied, irritated.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Jiyan said dismissively, hoping the conversation would end there, and she could get back to her new form of therapy: throwing darts.

Chad returned to his table muttering something about a "stupid bitch," but Jiyan didn't have the energy tonight to educate a stranger about basic respect and boundaries.

She took the last sip of her lemonade and headed to the bathroom, ordering another one from the bartender. When she returned, finding the new bottle of lemonade near the dartboard, she resumed her evening.

Cillian was onto his second pint when his attention wandered again to the peculiar woman in the far corner of the pub, throwing darts.

She seemed to be in her late 20s, sporting a hand-knit beanie that partially obscured her long dark hair. Her frame was small, drowned in a pair of jeans and an oversized dark hoodie. Each time she retrieved her darts from the board and turned around, Cillian found himself momentarily distracted from the conversation, captivated by her large green-leaf eyes.

Despite her efforts to blend in with her dull, oversized attire, every straight man in the pub couldn't help but notice her attractiveness.

Dermot, noticing Cillian's repeated glances, remarked, "She's new around here, lives in the area, spends her nights alone playing darts. Connor was annoyed the first night because she doesn't drink or eat, but apparently, she tips well, so we see her almost every night now."

Cillian raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Do you stalk all the newbies at the pub? Should I be worried? Should I give Connie a call?"

Dermot chuckled. "Like you didn't glance in her direction every five seconds. Just doing you a favor, pal."

Snorting, Cillian covered his blush with a sip from his pint. "I was just curious, and I wasn't staring at her the whole time."

"Sure, sure. Maybe we don't need to worry about you after all. You've been holed up in your basement for a month, and now look at you! You should go talk to her."

Cillian shook his head. "I'm gearing up for the new role, and it's been busy..."

Dermot glanced at his friend. "It's okay, you know, to try again? You're not a bad guy, and not all stories work out, mate."

Cillian looked down at his pint, taking another sip. He hadn't wanted to go out tonight and dwell on his last relationship. After a couple of weeks of seclusion, he was finally finding his balance. It wasn't that he missed her; they both knew the interest had faded months ago. They had reached a point where they were uncomfortable around each other and only ended up hurting one another.

He was just tired.

At 34, he was already questioning if this was it, his life—filled only with jobs he loved and relationships that would fill his life for a few months before inevitably ending.

Glancing up, he noticed a tourist from a nearby table approaching the young woman. Dermot and he said nothing for a moment, watching with interest. She appeared mostly annoyed and seemed to handle the situation well. After a brief exchange, she returned to her darts, and the guy slunk back to his table looking disgruntled.

Dermot chuckled after a sip from his pint, jesting, "Or maybe not the best idea, it looks like not even your piercing blue eyes would work this time."

Cillian snorted. "I think Enda would kill me if I showed up tomorrow with anything less than perfect condition. He owns me until the end of this play."

"Best not risk it, then."

They spent the next half-hour joking, with Dermot updating Cillian on Corinna and their new pregnancy. Cillian tried not to glance at the dartboard anymore, but he couldn't help but notice the American guy hurrying back to her corner after she ordered something from the bar, only to return to his table before she came back. Hopefully, he had finally realized she wasn't interested.

Around 11, they both decided to settle the bill and end their Saturday night.

Connor asked if everything was okay, and they both tipped him generously. It had taken some time for Cillian to find a place where no one cared about him or his career, and he didn't want to ruin it.

While Dermot quickly went to the restroom, Cillian cast one last glance at the dartboard, only to find the corner of the pub empty, with only her half-drunk bottle remaining.

Connor followed his gaze and grunted. "She forgot to pay, these damn tourists."

Surprised, Cillian looked at him. "I can cover her tab..."

"Why should you?" interrupted Connor, waving his hand dismissively. "She's here most nights; it will be covered, don't worry."

While waiting for Dermot, Cillian's eyes wandered to the American group's table, where they were laughing and shaking their heads conspiratorially. He noticed almost immediately that the persistent guy was missing and a bad feeling washed over him.

"Ready? Conie's going to kill me if I get home too late again, and maybe this time I can avoid sleeping on the couch," Dermot said, noticing Cillian's worried expression.

"What?" he asked Cillian.

Shaking his head, Cillian replied, "Nothing, let's go. Goodnight, Connor."

"Goodnight, lads."

Stepping outside, the cold, fresh air jolted Cillian awake. The street was quiet, unusually empty for a Saturday night. Glancing around before bidding farewell to Dermot, something caught his eye. In the corner of the street near the alley that led to the back of the pub, he noticed a jacket he recognized from inside. Dermot was saying something to him, but he wasn't paying attention, drawn closer to the alley where he found the guy from inside with his arms around an intoxicated young woman. She seemed unaware of what was happening and unable to stand on her own.

"Hey! What are you doing to her?" Cillian exclaimed, getting the guy's attention.

The guy jumped, almost letting the girl fall to the ground.

"Just helping her, man," he replied quickly. "Mind your business and go back inside."

Dermot, who had reached Cillian by then, also saw the scene unfolding before them. "What the fuck is happening here?"

The guy appeared more concerned now and, realizing Cillian wasn't alone, released the woman he was carrying, pushing past Cillian to leave the alley.

Cillian quickly moved closer, trying to catch her before she hit the ground. She now looked unconscious, and he gently laid her down, checking her vitals.

"What the fuck, man, this is so fucked up," Dermot said.

"Dermot, call 999. I'm not sure if she's breathing properly," Cillian said, alarmed. "Who knows what the fuck he gave her."

He wasn't paying attention to his friend but was focused on trying to make her a bit more comfortable. After a few moments of cradling her head, he noticed her scrunching her nose and grimacing. She opened her eyes, and Cillian found himself momentarily lost in them.

"Hey," he said softly as she stared at him. "It's going to be okay, alright? Just breathe; the ambulance is coming."

She didn't respond, just continued gazing at him with those beautiful green eyes, looking a little confused.

"It's going to be okay," he repeated, even softer this time. "I'm here. You're not alone. Just rest."

And she smiled, causing his heart to skip a beat, before closing those bright jade eyes once more.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read. Your feedback, in any form, makes me happy. See you at the next one :)

#cillian murphy #series

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ayomurphys · 1 year ago

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hey, it's the anon from the ask for @mypoisonedvine, that I asked for breeding/mom!kitten, I saw the answer yesterday but I was so shocked that BOTH of you answered me that I just took sometime to process, anyways....(I'm a little bit shy now) if you want and could write, it would be amazing, love your writing, thanks for taking your time to write things for us ♥️

i'm so happy you sent this at ALL, n the fact that i got 2 do it... i am honored. MWAH MWAH MWAHH I HOPE YOU LIKE IT im def doin more w momma kitten ...

little one

patricia ‘kitten’ braden x f!reader word count: ~1.3k tags: fluffy smut, breeding kink, nipple play, established relationship (they're each others wives <3), pregnancy, baby shopping

(ao3)

Kitten rubs at your thighs, kneading ever so slightly, while your hands are running through her soft curls. The two of you had been like this for an hour now, just feeling each other’s bodies in the dark. Times like these were your favorite, there was no pressure to perform.

Her hand moves up your thigh, delving ever so slightly underneath your silk slip– well, it was hers, but how could you resist such opulence?

You smile to yourself as she massages around your mound, taking her time with you like always, “Did you need something, Kitten, dear?”

She hums coyly as she’s wont to do, “Perhaps…”

With that barely escaping her mouth, her fingers dip to delve between your folds, collecting the wetness from her constant petting. You breathe out a gentle moan as she explores those oh-so-familiar parts– it was really air escaping from your lungs with a sigh more than anything. Kitten was an expert at teasing, but there was none of that tonight, she wanted you to feel every sensation as it was meant to be felt.

Her other fingers, unbeknownst to you, lift up her own slip, revealing her already reddened cock to the cool air of your bedroom. She hums as she continues to touch you, but her other hand wraps around her length, slowly moving it to prod at your entrance.

You gasp at the suddenness, “Oh, that’s what you wanted? Could’ve used your pretty voice– ah!”

It seemed Kitten was of the impatient variety tonight as she suddenly pushed inside of you, unworried about the lack of ‘proper’ lubrication– she just needed to feel your warmth.

“Darling, you are so perfect,” she moves closer to you, her thighs touching your own as she moves all the way inside. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, my God…”

Kitten’s eagerness did not go unnoticed with the way her deep thrusts already reached your cervix, that delicious feeling threatening to overtake you already. Her moans were quiet at first but grew in volume and urgency as she heard your own.

She moves her hands to rub at your breasts through the silk, the feeling equally intoxicating to the both of you. Your nipples had been hard throughout her ministrations, so it was very welcome when she pinched them gently. Kitten's thrusts were deep, but slow as she felt each and every sensation your body would give her.

"God, you're perfect," she lets out a breathy laugh, "Can't wait to fill you up, hm?"

You mewl at her words, an aspect of your sex life barely explored coming to light, "Please, please…"

"Want to put a little one in you," she pets at your breasts harder, "These would get so sensitive and full, wouldn't you be a perfect little mammy?"

Kitten's flirty words were betrayed by her ragged breath, she was the one who needed to breed you– it was the most perfect idea in her eyes. Carrying her child, growing full with the love you two shared… a constant reminder, wouldn't it be? How could she ever resist that?

You grind back on her, meeting the thrusts with an eagerness that glinted in your eyes, "Please, darling, want you to come inside– want you to get me pregnant, fuck!"

She grins widely, pinching your nipple and reaching her other hand to rub circles around your puffy clit, "You're gonna love it so much, gonna take such good care of you, aren't I? Christ, you're gonna look even more heavenly with a full belly..."

Her continuing praises turn to fuzz in your brain as you feel that knot unfurling. Your orgasm overtakes you like a tsunami, the warmth enveloping your entire body– tingling all the while. The level of bliss as Kitten continued to chase her own release was immeasurable.

You pull your slip down fully so she can properly knead your chest– you knew she needed to see them when she filled you to the brim.

"Perfect little tits, my love," she chokes out, "Gonna suck them while I give you all the babies I want, oh!"

That's exactly what she does: her moans are muffled as she sucks incessantly at your nipples, the thrusts becoming shallower but faster. You whimper into the overstimulation, back arching off of the duvet. Kitten’s nails scratch down your sides, you could feel her everywhere.

At the height of pain and pleasure, you feel that telling stutter as she fills you– just as she promised.

Kitten’s gasps continue as she stills deep inside of you, not letting one drop leave you, “Can’t blame a girl for being thorough, can you?”

You giggle tiredly, head thumping back against the inordinate amount of pillows she always buys, “Kiss me, lover.”

Standing at the kitchen counter, you watch as the water takes its sweet time boiling. What is that phrase about watched pots? Whatever.

Distracting you from your obviously very important duties, familiar arms wrap themselves around your waist, and Kitten whispers into your neck, “What a lovely little wife you are, hm?”

“I didn’t hear you come home, love,” you crane your neck for her to nuzzle, “I… actually have a bit of a surprise for you.”

She nips at your jawline, smiling into it, “Is that so? Is it a nice or naughty surprise?”

You bite your lip as you move her hands to rest upon your stomach, “This kind of surprise.”

Kitten inhales quickly, you can feel her hands shaking slightly, “Oh, my… do you really… are you?”

“I’m pregnant, Kitten, dear.”

Hesitating only for a millisecond, she hugs you from behind– and you flip around to properly hug her. Tears are welling in either of your eyes, genuine smiles on your lips. You giggle from the thrill of it all– you’re really carrying Kitten’s child.

“I can’t believe it,” she squeezes your arms, making sure she isn’t in a reverie. “We’re gonna be mothers… oh my goodness, darling.”

You nod, tears of happiness spilling, “I took three tests to be sure. You’re gonna be such a lovely mum, Kitten, I just know it.”

She grins widely, tears glistening on her cheeks as well, “We are, (Y/N), we’re going to be lovely mums.”

The two of you bask in each other’s presence, simply hugging and kissing until the water in the pot begins to boil.

“Now, I know we don’t know the sex just yet,” Kitten walks with you in tow down the town center, “However, we simply must begin decorating, right?”

You chuckle, shaking your head slightly, but not in disagreement, “Darling, I’m only a month along now, can’t it wait?”

She huffs dramatically, putting a hand to her forehead, “My Lord, (Y/N)! By the time you’re wanting to decorate, you’ll be too laden with our child! It’s really for the best if we do this now, trust me.”

“As you wish, my love.”

Kitten enters many a store with you, deciding that yellow would be the most appropriate color for your little bundle of joy– the two of you were never the biggest proponents of assigned gender roles. Plus, it helped that Kitten simply adored all shades of it.

She popped onesies, toys, blankets, all sorts of things into the basket– you couldn’t deny how intoxicating it was to see her so enthused. She never refrained from checking in with you on whether you liked her choice, but you always did (ignoring the gauche pram she desperately wanted you to haul around town).

By the end of the day, she was hauling bags upon bags of simply baby supplies– not forgetting the maternity clothing you needed in the coming months, but Kitten insisted she would style you in much better things than those stores had.

All you needed to worry about was pushing the pram she bought home, a delicate-looking but strong place to show off your babe to all the jealous women of the town– that’s how Kitten described it, at least.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, darling.”

She looks at you from over her sunglasses, winking sweetly, “Anything for my pretty little wife. Gotta keep her happy for the baby, hm?”

#kitten braden #nsfw #oneshot

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ayomurphys · 1 year ago

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WE SIDE WITJ MRS M. WE STAND WITH WOMEN. WE LOVE FEMINISM.

All jokes aside, in my last comment I talked about how much I loved the way you wrote their banter but now I feel like 180’ing kind of and saying how I LOVE how you write angst! It’s so easy to make it corny or stupid or cheesy but GOD you just have a way!!!!!! You need to start being paid for this or something Idek, I just love the way you set up the conflict and walk us through it as the emotions heighten. I felt myself frowning or feeling with her so many times and this is such a short little thing!!! Love love love it so much. Cillian u better fix this 😡.

Summary: Cillian gets back from Berlin nursing the excesses of the night before, only for a quiet night in with his wife to take an unexpected turn.

Warnings: Angst. Feelings are high and recriminations are many. Bad language.

Word count: 1822 PART 4 | SERIES

v. Friday 16 February

He’d been groggy and croaky on the phone when he’d called that morning, all the signs of a night well lived. As soon as the clock hit five, she was out the door, hurrying back across town to get to the flat in time for him coming home from the airport. She was just changing out of her workwear, desperate for something more cosy and comfy, when she heard the front door.

“Hiya,” she called, pulling on her favourite oversized soft grey jumper over her leggings, the wide neckline slipping down over her shoulder.

He appeared a minute later looking tired, unshaven and slightly disheveled, which on lesser mortals such as herself would be a criticism, but on him somehow served to make him sexier.

“Never let me go away with Enda and Eileen again,” he groaned, dropping his bag on the floor and flopping face down on the bed.

She bit her tongue against the overwhelming urge to say ‘I told you so’.

“Poor baby. Did you forget you are no longer twenty and drink all the beers?”

“Maybe,” he mumbled thickly into the duvet.

“And did you perhaps forget that in Germany the pints are bigger?”

“No,” he lied, twisting his head to look at her as she barely managed to stifle her giggle. He sighed. “Yes.”

She lay down next to him, pushing her discarded work clothes out of the way, stroking her hand over his dark, tousled hair and he closed his eyes with a soft smile of contentment.

“I’m never drinking again.”

“Of course not. And definitely not on Sunday.”

He groaned. Honestly, being an award’s season frontrunner was very hard on the liver.

She leaned across, kissing his temple and he pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her shoulder. How was it possible that he also smelt amazing when he should, by rights, smell like a brewery?

“Do you want a curry for tea?”

“Yes please,” he mumbled into her clothes like a little boy.

“Ok, well why don’t you have a shower, wake yourself up and wash the travelling off, and I’ll order one?”

He nodded into her shoulder and she bit her lip to silence her laugh, kissing his hair instead.

“Good lad. Usual?”

“Please.”

For a moment, nothing happened.

“You’re going to have to let me go for any of these things to actually occur.”

He shook his head petulantly. “Comfy now.”

Very gently, she extricated herself from his grasp and he let her, even though he whined at the loss. As she stood up, he let her slowly pull him back into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around her waist again.

“There’s my brave boy,” she giggled, running her fingers through his hair as he rested his head against her middle. “Go have a wash and I’ll see you in a bit, yeah?”

“If you’d have been there, this wouldn’t have happened.”

She raised an eyebrow, tilting his chin up to look at her. “Do you really believe that?”

“No,” he conceded, resting his head against her again, groaning quietly. “It would be worse.”

“That’s the spirit - just imagine how much worse it could have been.”

“Promise you’ll make me behave on Sunday?”

She laughed, stroking the back of his neck.

“Me and Blunt - and Emma Stone - in the same room again? You really think I can make such promises?”

He groaned.

*****

Later, almost uncomfortably full of Indian takeaway, they lay tangled together on the sofa watching tv.

“Oh, did you…” she started, twisting back to look at him and he groaned, head burying into her shoulder.

“Fuck.”

She paused the programme, gently turning in his arms, slotting her feet between his legs.

“You really have to do it tomorrow, Cill.”

“I’d really much rather talk to her face to face,” he sighed, avoiding her eyes.

“I know but you’re not home for over a week and he wants to move in on Tuesday. It’s not fair on him if he’s unhappy, just ‘cause it’ll be shit phonecall.”

He glanced up. “You really this is worth starting a war over? He might be fine by next week. He can’t just chop and change because he’s annoyed about being nagged.”

She frowned at his reticence. “You didn’t see him - he was serious. I think it’s been coming for a while.”

She bit her tongue to stop herself from adding that he was never home to see it for himself. It wasn’t his fault, she kept telling herself. Same way it wasn’t his fault he’d forgotten Valentine’s Day and then got steaming drunk with his best mate and come home in a heap. So much for any kind of date night do-over, she thought, with a bitterness she didn’t realise she’d been harbouring.

“Look, if it was up to me, he’d be moving in as soon as I get back. But it’s not. I’m not his mum—”

“Don’t say that…”

She shook her head. “I’m as good as but that’s not enough for things like this and you know it. I need you to sort this out for him. Please, Cill, it’s important.”

His eyes narrowed slightly at the edge to her tone.

“Right. And me doing my job isn’t important, is that it? I’ve not been kicking back just pissing around, Y/N, this is a lot of fucking work,” he snapped.

She pulled away from him and he instantly regretted it.

“I didn’t say what you’re doing isn’t important. Or that you’re not knackered. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Cillian.”

Uh oh, she never called him ‘Cillian’.

“I’m perfectly well aware how insane your life is but you have a fucking family too. And your kid needs you.” She sat up, away from him, pushing her hands through her hair. “I fucking need you too,” she mumbled, frustrated by the immediate threat of tears squeezing in her throat.

He scrambled to sit up too, studying her strained profile. “Is this because I forgot about valentines?” he asked tentatively and her head whipped towards him, eyes large and bright with annoyance.

“Is this..? I don’t care that you forgot about Valentine’s Day.” She paused, pinching her nose under her glasses. “Well I do, but it’s hardly surprising and that’s not what’s important here.”

He opened his mouth but her glare made him shut it again.

“I know how busy you are. I know how insane it is. I know this one is bigger and crazier and more intense than anything before, but it’s not like this is the first time we’ve all lived through the promotion circus. And I know - and the kids are big enough now to understand too - that when you’re in it like this, the work has to be priority number one. But..”

She paused, swallowing heavily.

“But at least we always used to be priority two. Lately it’s felt like we’re always the last thing on the list. You’re here, there and everywhere and sometimes I don’t even hear from you from one day to the next. When was the last time you were home and actually spent time with the kids? And tonight is case in point,” she added, waving her hand tiredly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he mumbled defensively.

“Do you not know that this is the first night in three weeks that we’re in the same place and you don’t have to be somewhere else? Or be doing an interview on the phone? Or there’s some assistant hanging around arranging the next week with you? Three weeks, Cill. And for one night I get you all to myself with no events, and what happens? You go and get wrecked with Edna in Berlin and so instead I get to enjoy our one night together with you nursing a stinking hangover.”

She watched as he stared silently at his hands, his jaw jumping beneath his stubbled cheek.

“And I know I said have fun and made a big joke about it, but fucking hell. Am I the only one of us who thought that, on our one evening with no engagements, maybe we could do something nice, just the two of us?? And,” she exclaimed, now thoroughly infuriated and on a roll, “and you still haven’t even bothered to get me a fucking card! You have like five assistants at this point, surely one of them could have nipped into a fucking WH Smith’s at the airport?!”

He glanced up, face set in hard lines. “I would never farm out something from our marriage to an assistant.”

“Well maybe you should!” she snapped, dropping her head into her palms. “But as much as I’m disappointed about that, none of this is what actually matters,” she sighed. “The kids miss you, Cill. And they’re teenage boys so they’ll never say that out loud but they need you. I do my best but at times like this isn’t not enough. Our son came to me because he’s struggling, only this is something I can’t help him with. Because when it comes to where he lives, he’s your son. Yours and Aoife’s. And I’m just sat here like a fucking useless lemon not able to do anything to fix it.”

She looked up again at him, her large eyes filmed with unshed tears.

“So I need you to fix it, Cillian. And not in a week and a half or whenever it is that you next grace the greater Dublin area with your presence. I need you to fix it now. This weekend. Tomorrow. And I know it’ll be a shitty conversation, but I don’t care. For once this week we’re going to be priority number one.

“You’re not being fair, Y/N. You know you three are the most important things in my whole world.”

The look she shot him made him flinch like an almost physical blow. “No. What’s not fair, Cillian, is that you’re making your son wait anxiously for you to talk to his mum and you only didn’t do it today because you were too fucking hungover to have a difficult conversation. You literally had nothing else to do today except get on a plane - I know because I checked your fucking diary - so don’t talk to me about unfairness.”

She pushed herself off the sofa, looking down at him sternly.

“You can forget about Valentine’s Day and take liberties with me - I’m a big girl, I’ll get over it. But not with the kids. You are going to fix this tomorrow. Because my son came to me for help, and I am not fucking letting him down.”

And with that, she headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” he asked quietly, slightly shell-shocked by her outburst, the headache he’d been nursing all day coming back to the fore as guilt slid through his veins.

“To fucking bed,” she sighed wearily. “You’re not the only one who’s tired.”

Ok so I think of you might be cross about this one because there’s no resolution, but before you yell at me too much, remember, I’m posting more tomorrow 🙈 But by all means, come scream your feelings - you know I love to hear what you think! 🤍 xx

Masterlists: CILLIAN | LOCKDOWN | MAIN

As always, you can find a whole heap more stuff for this couple in the Lockdown masterlist.

Tag list: @runnning-outof-time , @zablife , @garrison-girl-08 , @look-at-the-soul , @buttercupsandboys , @notyour-valentine , @elliotshelbyjones , @shelbydelrey , @theshelbyclan , @theshelbyslimited , @pintofsweets , @flyingjosephine-blog , @christinasyellowflowers , @midnightmagpiemama , @l1-l4-deactivated20231226 , @allie131313 , @star017 , @lespendy , @blondie-22 , @dragons-are-my-favorite , @emotionalcadaver , @brummiereader , @alessioayla , @lyarr24 , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @forgottenpeakywriter , @kittycatcait219 , @cybernuttragedy456 , @babaohhhriley , @watersquirtpewpewboomm , @stevie75 , @padfootdaredmetoo , @moral-terpitude , @shaddixlife , @peakyscillian , @majesticcmey (unable to tag) , @rangerelik , @guenievresworld , @margew76 , @camilleholland89 , @woofgocows , @cilliansangel (unable to tag) , @ayomurphys , @elenavampire21 , @elk96 , @scorpiussage , @cillixn , @esposadomd , @grapejuiceblues , @throughgoeshamilton , @polishcrazyone , @shjjpm , @duckybird101 , @maeleeme , @cillmeslowly , @kmc1989 , @nela-cutie , @magicalmushroom0 (unable to tag) , @86luvrs (unable to tag) , @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky (unable to tag)

#cillian murphy #series

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ayomurphys · 1 year ago

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You’re so silly “if you don’t know what the alleyways line means” SOME OF US have war flashbacks about it!!! (/joke joke joke :)

Sooo cute I love the little banter movements we get, it makes it all the more real and I just love the way you write them both!!! Their voices are so authentic and so vivid, I know exactly what to picture, it makes me feel so included ❤️

Happy ‘SAG award winner Cillian Murphy’ Sunday to all who celebrate! Another quick note for readers unfamiliar with the Lockdown lore - Mrs M works as an editor in a publishing house. I think that’s all you need to know! Enjoy!

Summary: Another day, another location for our exhausted actor hero. Today it’s the Berlinale opening day and Cillian is away showing off Small Things Like These. Later, he and Mrs M (back in London) catch up.

Warnings: None I think? Just these two being silly idiots. Enda makes an appearance. Not a warning unless you have an irrational fear of Enda Walsh. Also I apologise to Enda cos I might have written him wildly ooc 🙈 I don’t know him well enough to be sure!

Word count: 1409 PART 3 | SERIES

iv. Thursday 15 February

She was almost cross-eyed staring at her computer screen - second edits were always harder, the constant vigilance in trying to not be a total dickhead and contradict her own previous suggestions - when the phone rang. Still reading her screen she fumbled for the device, answering briskly and without looking.

“Hello?”

“Aren’t you supposed to say, ‘good evening, this is Y/N Y/L/N’..?” chuckled a familiar voice, putting on an affectation of her professional telephone manner.

“Aren’t you supposed to be off being bothered by reporters and having your photo taken for your thirsty internet fans?” she countered, grinning, sitting back in her chair and throwing her glasses on the desk so she could rub her tired eyes.

“Have done a lot of that already. May their thirst be quenched. And if not, we’re leaving in a bit to take more.”

She chuckled huskily and he swallowed at the sound, very much wishing he was at home. “Oh you sweet naive man, they will never be satisfied. They shall remain perpetually thirsty. A fact I believe you are well aware of after your GQ performance this week.”

He sighed, though a tiny ember of pride warmed his chest. “Am I ever going to live that one down?”

“On the internet? No need, they adore you. In this family? Jury’s still out. Eoin wants a word next time he sees you.”

“He’s already sent me many choice words,” he grumbled. “You don’t happen to know what he means by ‘sex offender shoes’ do you..?”

She giggled. “Maybe.”

“I fucking knew it! I knew he hadn’t come up with that one on his own! What’s the matter with the shoes??”

She waved a hand. “Literally everything.” He laughed and she resettled in her chair, tucking one leg under herself. “But enough about you whoring it up in Barry Keogan’s cast offs..”

He spluttered in the background and she pressed on.

“How did it go? Tell me everything. Are you the darling of the Berlinale once more? I mean, they’d be mad not to love it.”

There was a quiet shuffling down the phone and she could feel his blush all the way from Germany.

“They seemed to love it. Like really love it. Some bloke even said he liked it better than Oppenheimer.”

She squealed so joyously in his ear that he had to pull the phone away to prevent permanent damage.

“I knew they would! That’s so fantastic, baby! I’m so fucking proud of you all, you deserve it.”

He muttered an embarrassed thanks, taking a swig of the bottle of beer Enda had given him after they got back to the hotel. Dutch - or, more accurately, German - courage for the gala evening and red carpet ahead.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

“Oh, you know, shots, strip clubs, prostitutes.”

“Classic.”

He sighed a little. “We’ve got to go to this opening night dinner thing. But I think I’m going to try and get an early night.”

She snorted. “Sure sure. You, Enda and Eileen together on a work sponsored trip? I’ll believe this early night malarkey when I see it.”

He laughed, sinking the final third of the small bottle. “Yeah well, maybe not so early. Flight home isn’t until three tomorrow afternoon.”

“Just try not to get arrested. Or let Matt get arrested. You know how he is.”

“You and Emily aren’t here so he should be safe enough.”

“Oi! Nobody got arrested - it was just a misunderstanding,” she huffed, sitting up straighter in her office chair and pressing the phone against her ear with her shoulder as she fumbled to put on her glasses again. All the better to not be able to see him with. “Besides, it was Matt’s fault anyway,” she added sulkily.

“I can see your pout from here,” he grinned and she stuck out her tongue. “And put that tongue away.”

Fuck he really knew her too well.

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” she giggled.

“Behave you mucky girl,” he chastised with zero real intent, delicious memories of her with her lips wrapped around him floating across his vision. They’d barely made it back into the flat from the BFI dinner before she was on her knees.

“Make me,” she grinned.

Running his tongue quickly over his lips, he instinctively looked around the empty hotel suite as if someone might overhear. It was so rare to be in a hotel without a small entourage these days. But before he could speak there was knocking on his door. He heard her sigh slightly down the line.

“Duty calls..?”

“Sorry baby, I promised them I wouldn’t be late for once.”

“S’ok, have fun. Give everyone my love.”

“I will. They wish you were here too. You know they all like you more than me.” He heard her chuckle.

“Naturally,” she smiled, hearing him open the door in the background, the quiet rumble of Enda’s voice.

“Is that Y/N?”

A scuffling noise crackled in her ear and she winced.

“My darling! How are you? Why aren’t you here and I’ve only got this one to play with?? All he does is whine about his jet lag.”

He grinned at Cillian who gave him the finger and went to put on his suit jacket, grabbing his overcoat.

“Hello lovely, I’m fine. Just drowning in a sea of manuscript corrections.”

Enda sighed heavily, well versed in such things. “Are you making some poor penniless artist’s life a misery and that’s why I’m denied your company??”

She laughed. “Yes. Exactly that. The ceaseless scribble of the ruthless red pen cannot be avoided. And if I was gadding about with you two, then how could I possibly ruin their weekend with my cruel and acerbic criticism of their work?”

“The devil works hard but editors work harder,” he agreed with mock seriousness. “Can I steal him from you now though darling? That lovely girl he employs to tell him where he’s supposed to be every minute of his life says we’re not allowed to be late. And apparently traffic’s a nightmare for reasons I don’t fully understand.”

“Of course. But promise you won’t get him into trouble. No pissing in alleyways.”

“Absolutely no promises, you know what he’s like. Can’t pass a gloomy cut through without needing to mark the territory.”

Cillian sighed heavily, glaring at his best friend, and by extension, his wife. Though it was possibly less effective on her given she couldn’t actually see it. It had been an enormous relief to him that Enda had taken such a shine to Y/N when they first got together, years ago, but it was possible that perhaps they got on a little too well sometimes.

“Alright, that’s enough.” He held out his hand for the phone and with a flurry of giggled goodbyes, Enda handed it back.

“Downstairs in two minutes,” he warned as he left the room.

“Sorry love, I really have to go.”

“It’s fine. Have a great time. I’m only teasing because I’m so jealous - I should have fobbed this one off on Jennie and come with you.”

“Except we both know you couldn’t because his highness would go mad if the reply didn’t come from you.”

She sighed heavily. “Never a truer word. Right, go, have fun, drink all the beer and have a lovely time. I love you.”

He smiled. “I love you, too. See you tomorrow night.”

“Oh, Cill?” she asked just as he was about to hang up. “I’m sure you won’t have had time, but have you talked to Aoife..?”

He blew out a long breath. “No, not yet. Today was too crazy. I’ll ring her tomorrow when it’s less bonkers.”

“Ok, I thought as much, it’s just that Eoin texted about it. He’s a bit anxious.”

“I promise I’ll sort it out, I just need to do this stuff first.”

“No, I know, it’s fine. Just wanted to check.”

“I have to go, baby.”

“Yes, sorry, go. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He stared for a moment at the device in his hand, chewing his lip. Opening whatsapp he quickly sent a message to his eldest.

Sorry I’ve not spoken to mum yet, today has been really busy. I promise I will soon x

The ticks turned blue but nothing else happened. Sighing, he slipped it into his coat pocket and headed for the lift, mentally preparing for another evening of being gawked at.

Part v

This little series truly is just an excuse for me to call back to old characters and jokes - if you aren’t sure what the ‘pissing in alleys’ line was about, check out Strike A Pose and all shall become clear 🤭 As always, I live on the crumbs of your engagement so please do let me know what you thought, in all the usual ways 🤍

Masterlists: CILLIAN | LOCKDOWN | MAIN

There’s loads more content in the Lockdown masterlist and their separate spin-off about the making of Oppenheimer.

#cillian murphy #series

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ayomurphys · 1 year ago

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GIRLLLLLL😭😭😭😭😭😭

Love love love love love THEYLL get their proper Valentine’s Day March 14 ❤️ perfect for them!!! Ahhh I CANT WAIT for more stuff wahhh they’re so cute ITS SO FUN when I think about all the content we’ve gotten lately and how you tie it all in. Your mind!!!! Magnificent!!!!

Quick note for those unfamiliar with the original Lockdown series - Mrs M used to live in London and they kept her flat when she moved to Dublin cos it’s handy. But she left her cat, Hemingway, behind with her neighbour because he was getting on and she was worried how he’d cope.

Summary: Cillian is back in London and our couple are reunited just in time for Valentine’s Day. Perfect… right..?

Warnings: Some mild smut/suggestive stuff but nothing too graphic (don’t yell at me! 🤭). Bad language.

Word count: 1648 PART 2 | SERIES

iii. Wednesday 14 February

The black and white checkered tiles were painted in vibrant reds, blues and greens where the light twinkled through the stained glass door, as she herself into the hallway of the old, converted Victorian terrace that contained her flat. She was about to lug her case upstairs when Anita, her elderly downstairs neighbour, poked her head out of her front door. Closely followed by an arthritic ball of fur sneaking around her legs, chirping joyfully at Y/N.

“Hello baby,” she cooed, scooping her old cat Hemingway up into her arms, his age not dampening the industrial strength of his purring. A sound not dissimilar to a helicopter preparing for lift-off.

“I think there’s somebody in your flat,” hissed Anita in a stage whisper. “I wasn’t sure at first but I definitely heard footsteps about twenty minutes ago. I wasn’t sure if I should ring the police.”

Y/N sighed a chuckle. “It’s only Cill, you can stand down the Specials. He got in from LA last night.”

“Oh he does work ever so hard,” she sympathised, immediately relaxing, hands clasping theatrically across her breast. “I heard his Desert Island Discs at the weekend.”

She paused, eyes flicking up to the top landing where the door to Y/N’s flat stood. “Not all to my taste, I have to say,” she muttered in a hush that was easily loud enough for the people in the house next door to hear her, and Y/N had to fight to keep from giggling.

“No, well, he’s always had eclectic taste,” she grinned, trying to imagine Anita coping with the musical melange that made up his own radio show. “Do you mind if I take his nibs up with me?” She kissed Hemingway’s fluffy head and he casually batted at her nose.

“Not at all, just remember not to let him do the stairs when he comes back down. He’s not as young in the hips as he used to be.” She barked a laugh, gripping the doorframe. “He’s not the only one, eh?!”

Laughing her goodbyes, Y/N slowly manoeuvred herself upstairs and into the flat, juggling both luggage and feline.

“Hello?”

“In here,” he called back and she followed his voice to her little kitchen diner, dropping the cat to the floor so she could slip into his waiting arms.

“You brought a friend,” he mumbled into her hair, squeezing her tight, arms circled around her middle.

“He demanded to see you,” she giggled, looking across at the cat who was glaring decidedly at Cillian in the manner for which he had become known throughout their long relationship.

“Oh yes, look at him, he can barely contain his joy,” he deadpanned, letting her pull him into a kiss.

“Hello you,” she mumbled against his lips.

“Hello yourself,” he smiled back, stealing another kiss.

“I missed you,” she murmured as they parted. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

She felt him freeze against her.

“Fuck.”

She pulled back, finding his eyes wide with alarm.

“Shit… baby I’m so sorry, I have no idea what day it is.. I..”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips, pushing down the little bubble of disappointment in her chest. “It’s fine. It’s a silly holiday.”

He shook his head, cupping her face. “No, it’s not. I’m so sorry. I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

She stopped him by kissing him slowly, just sinking into the softness of his mouth. Even though it was mid-afternoon, he mustn’t have been up that long, because he still tasted vaguely of toothpaste.

Coming back up for air, she smiled. “I get you, here, in person, for a whole…” She checked the clock over his shoulder. “Fourteen hours and.. twenty-two minutes.” He chuckled quietly, eyes dropped low as she stroked her thumbs across his cheekbones.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“This is all I need. It’s the best valentine’s gift I could get,” she murmured, kissing him again, luxuriating in being able to feel the warmth of him through her clothes. The safe, familiar smell of him surrounding her.

“Well we better start making the most of those fourteen hours and twenty-two minutes,” he muttered, slightly breathlessly.

“Think we’re down to twenty now,” she giggled, yelping as he surprised her by lifting her to his hips. Wrapping her legs around his waist, he carried her off towards the bedroom, carefully kicking the door closed behind him so they wouldn’t have a furry spectator.

Setting her gently on the bed he leaned over to kiss her, both tugging frantically at clothing, when a loud yowling started from behind the door.

“Did you shut him out?” She wriggled away from him, shaking her jumper off from where it hung on just one arm.

“Nooo, don’t let him in,” he whinged. “You know he puts me off.”

“Don’t be silly, he’s a cat,” she scoffed, sticking out her tongue as she opened the door. Immediately the noise stopped as Hemingway weaved victoriously around her legs. Picking him up she peppered kisses into his fur.

“He does! He knows I’m violating his mother.”

“Wow, well now I’m in the mood,” she replied dryly, turning her attention back to the cat in her arms. “Sir, I need you to go have a nap elsewhere. Mama’s busy getting busy.”

He mumbled a mewl that sounded awfully like dissent to Cillian.

“And apparently father has a very fragile ego.”

“Oi!”

She spun back towards him, grinning. “I’ll put him somewhere comfy. You’d better be naked when I get back.”

*****

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you to Berlin?” she asked from her spot on the bed, wearing one of his shirts with the buttons barely done up, and nothing else, as he slowly meandered around in his underwear gathering his stuff for his next trip. No stylist, no team, just his own clothes and products this time. He was quietly relieved to be back in charge of himself for a few minutes. Even if it would be back into the award show machine for the BAFTA’s on Sunday.

“It’s fine - you’ve got work. I’ll only be gone one night.”

“Do you not want me to see this film?”

He looked up from fiddling with his wash bag in surprise, catching her cheeky grin.

“You’ve already seen it.”

“Not with a proper audience though.” She shuffled to the end of the bed, sitting up on her knees beside his little holdall, drawing him in, his hands coming to cradle her head.

“You’re going to have to sit through it multiple times when it actually comes out.”

She pretended to pout and he leaned down, kissing it away. As she sighed contentedly he took the opportunity to sneak his tongue between her lips, dancing softly with her own.

“I know why you don’t want me to come.”

He sighed, resting his forehead against hers.

“I do want you to come. But you’re the one who said you have work to do.”

She waved this entirely accurate version of events away with a flutter of her fingers.

“It’s because you and Enda want a lads night out in Berlin without either me or Jo cramping your style.”

He set his lips, blue eyes boring into hers.

“Yep. That’s exactly it. How are we supposed to hit the clubs and chat up girls with you two getting in the way?”

“I knew it,” she agreed, nodding just as seriously. “Just remember to use protection, yeah?”

He made a show of giving a deep sigh of resignation. “No promises. You know how I am.”

Simultaneous grins creased their faces as they gave way to giggles, clutching each other with mirth.

“M’gonna miss you,” she mumbled as they subsided, resting her head against his chest, arms locked around his waist.

“Me too.” He pressed a kiss into her hair, the comfortingly familiar soft floral scent of her filling his nose. “This week is just insane.” He sighed quietly. “All the weeks lately have been insane. I’m sorry. We’ve just got to get through to the eleventh of March and then soon you’ll be sick of me being at home and be telling me to go back to work.”

She peeked up at him, letting him smooth her hair away from her face. “Damn right. Hanging around, getting in my way like a layabout.”

“I love you too,” he smiled, letting her wriggle up a little higher to meet his lips again. She hummed against his mouth as he deepened the kiss, letting him gently push her backwards until his body covered hers amidst the mess of his scattered belongings on the bed.

“The car for tonight isn’t coming for at least another hour and a half,” he murmured, lips trailing down the column of her throat.

“Hmmm…but yet I somehow need to look presentable by then,” she gasped as he nipped her skin, hips rocking up into his, the firmness of his growing erection already beginning to press deliciously against her bare pussy.

He pulled back, dark pupils wide and dangerous.

“I think you should go like this.”

“Oh really? You think Chris would appreciate that on his big night?”

He leaned up, easily popping the couple of buttons that held his shirt closed, pushing it aside to admire her.

“Hmmmm… on second thoughts this might be too distracting. I have to give a speech after all.”

He ran his tongue over a stiffening nipple, feeling her grind against him needily.

“Plus this is just for me,” he murmured lowly, fingers swiping through her folds, pressing easily into her still slick centre, catching her moans with his mouth. “Who does this little cunt belong to, eh?” he whispered against her lips, nose brushing against hers.

“You. Just you,” she whimpered, eyes sliding closed as he skilfully brought her back to the brink in no time at all.

Part iv

Alright, alright, I know you want the filth but I liked this better as was. I’ll hook you up with some mucky stuff later on, I promise! 🤭 As ever, I live and die by your comments so please do get in touch in all the usual ways, xx

Masterlists: CILLIAN | LOCKDOWN | MAIN

You can find loads more content for this couple in the Lockdown masterlist - a series, one shots, moodboards and character lore. Enjoy! 🤍

#cillian murphy #series

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ayomurphys · 1 year ago

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I Love the little slice of life with Mrs M and the boys 🥹🥹🥹!!! It’s so special and I know it means just as much to her as her relationship with Cill ❤️❤️. Ahhh we’ve been blessed with so many many many stories back to back to back, idk how you’re doing it!!!! God it’s so funny how I started reading this series waaaaayyyy before Cill ever started campaigning and now he’s almost getting an Oscar!!!😭😭 how crazy is that.

Lovely stuff as always, Alex!!! Time to catch up on the other plethora of lovely stuff ☺️

For new readers, you don’t need to have read The Lockdown Sessions (though it helps!). All you need to be aware of is that Mrs M has been in the kids’ lives for almost a decade but the relationship between her and the boys’ mum (Aoife) is still quite awkward.

Summary: It’s the day the GQ photoshoot pictures are released and Mrs M and Eoin share their thoughts, before Eoin drops a bombshell.

Warnings: I’m imagining the challenges of being a step-parent but I’m not one so apologies if any of this seems off. Though not every family dynamic is the same and I think this is just how it is for them. Bad language.

Word count: 2586 PART 1 | SERIES

ii. Tuesday 13 February

She was in the kitchen, once again, making coffee when Scout went tearing off into the hall, barking and tippy tapping on the wooden floor, as she heard Eoin’s key turned in the lock.

“Hiya,” she called, topping his cup up with milk how he liked it, stirring a sugar into her own.

Calling hello, he hushed the dog as he tried to get past, dropping his school bag with a thud and ambling towards the back of the house, the airy space glowing with the afternoon winter sun streaming through the big glass doors and skylights.

“Alright, calm down you crazy mutt, I only saw you yesterday,” he mumbled affectionately, throwing the toy the black lab had brought to him. Scout bounded off in pursuit, like he was still a puppy and not quietly creeping closer to ten years old.

“How was your day?” Y/N asked, passing him his coffee cup, coming to join him leaning against the broad kitchen island.

She loved this little Tuesday ritual that had quietly developed over the last year. With Finn at an after school club and, because their mum was still unhappy about him walking home on his own especially when it was dark, Eoin had to wait for him. But his dad’s house was close to school so he’d taken to coming over for a cuppa and chat, occasionally doing some homework, before going back to pick up Finn at five. It was such a regular fixture now that she had the time blocked out in her work diary and her team knew not to disturb her unless it was really urgent.

He shrugged, sighing, and blew on the steaming liquid. “Have you seen the state of dad in these new photos?”

Y/N stifled a giggle behind her hand, compressing her lips carefully back into seriousness.

“Ah now, they’re not that bad,” she lied, attempting some semblance of solidarity. She’d seen Cillian’s vibrantly colourful GQ photoshoot pop up earlier in the day, and she was quietly grateful he was away because they definitely weren’t her favourites of all time. The colours were fun and his face was immaculate but there was just something, that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, that felt off about them.

Eoin looked at her as though she’d hit her head. “Not that bad? Are you blind??”

She let the grin sneak out, drumming her fingers against her lips - a habit he thought she’d picked up from his dad.

“Well ok, yeah, they’re definitely a Lot of Look.”

“The girls school are losing their fucking minds,” he grimaced, pulling out his phone and opening the tab with his dad’s interview, scrolling quickly. “I mean, look at this one.” He passed it to her, pointing at a shot of Cillian in a bright pink jumper with a matching scarf wrapped around his neck, eyes closed, all long lashes and sharp cheekbones, apparently caught in a moment of quiet ethereal swaying. “He looks like Gran after she’s had a few wines at Christmas.”

At this Y/N couldn’t even attempt to contain the hearty laugh that burst out of her. “Holy shit! He does!” she cackled. “I wouldn’t dare say that to your Gran though.”

“No me neither, but I’ve already texted it to dad.” He paused, grinning mischievously. “He hasn’t replied yet.”

She snorted into her coffee cup. “You’re so mean to him.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the one who has to go to school and have everyone in the fucking Sixth Year common room looking at photos of my dad dressed like some kind of Barry fucking Keoghan wannabe.”

“Oh my god! That’s it! It’s been bugging me all day what it is I don’t like about them!” she exclaimed, slapping a palm against her forehead. “It looks exactly like it’s been styled for Barry - and not that I don’t love him to bits but his style…”

“It’s weird.”

“It’s not your dad. The sports shirt one and the fur coat one especially.”

“I mean, the fur coat one. Like, is he just Ken? He’s like one step away from a fucking mojo dojo casa house.”

They both creased into giggles, clutching the countertop.

“Stop! That’s so cruel,” she wheezed.

“But am I wrong?”

She shook her head, hand over her mouth to try and control her mirth.

“Poor dad. We have to be supportive when he gets back. It’s not like he chose the outfits…I assume.”

Eoin rolled his eyes. “Bet he did.”

“Please, there is no way your father - Mr ‘do you have it in black, please?’ - proactively said ‘hi, hello, I’d like to wear those orange sex offender slip-ons, please and thank you’.” Eoin snorted. “‘Oh and also in pink. And I’ll die if I don’t get to wear the leopard print slippers’.”

He squinted at her over his cup. “You really focussed in on the shoes, didn’t you?”

She looked at him darkly. “They are really very, very bad.”

He concurred, sipping thoughtfully.

“Why sex offender though?”

She shrugged, scrolling aimlessly through the interview. “They just give me the ick.” He gestured at her to elaborate. “You know, they remind me of posh boys who pretend it’s all just bants but are almost definitely committing sexual assault. And who are probably rich enough to get away with it,” she added bitterly.

He stared at her for a beat and she wondered if maybe she should have kept that observation just for Cillian. But they had got into a rhythm of being frank with each other now that he was eighteen. Sometimes it was easy to forget he was still actually just a kid.

“Ooo-kay. Noted. Don’t ever buy loafers and wear them in front of Y/N.” She frowned at him sternly and he threw up his hands. “Alright alright, do not buy loafers ever, end of sentence.”

“As if you ever would.”

He pointed at her. “Touché.”

They drank their coffees in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching Scout attempting to eviscerate the squeaker out of his newest toy.

“When does he get back?”

“Tonight. But we’re going to a BFI thing tomorrow night so he’s going straight to the London flat and I’m on the commuter flight over in the morning.”

“Sounds like a very romantic Valentine’s Day date. He really knows how to pull out all the stops.” Eoin frowned as she chuckled. “Wait, isn’t he in Berlin this week for Small Things?”

“Thursday,” she nodded. “He’s going early in the morning. And he’s away with Uncle Enda, so he’ll not be worth talking to on Friday.”

They exchanged a grin. It was a truth, universally acknowledged, that Cillian and Enda unsupervised was always a dangerous combination. But at a work-sponsored piss up? Lives may be lost.

“And then BAFTAs on Sunday..?”

“Yep. And according to Sarah, he’s got something else on Saturday.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Quite,” she sighed.

It was fucking hard work keeping up with his dad at the moment. He seemed to be in LA more than Ireland lately; it had been ages since they’d had a weekend at the house where it wasn’t just the three of them. He didn’t begrudge him the attention - he knew how hard he’d worked on the film - but he couldn’t help but miss having him around.

Not that he’d ever actually go as far as to say that out loud.

“Do you think he’ll be home next weekend?” he ventured instead.

Y/N reached across and squeezed his shoulder briefly - as ever, she read him better than he liked. “I think he’s got another awards thing - the SAGs maybe? Honestly I’m not sure. I’m exhausted just looking at his work calendar.”

He nodded quietly, draining his cup.

“D’y’want me to walk the monster before I go? It’s supposed to rain later.”

Her face softened into a smile. Where did this young man come from? What happened to the surly teenager that would only grunt monosyllabically at her, barely looking up from his phone? She could never have imagined him stopping by for chats and offering to walk the dog.

Or having a working grasp of the short-range weather forecast, for that matter.

“Do you mind? I’ve got work to finish and I promised your dad I’d bring him over a load of stuff because he’s going straight back on a plane from London, and I haven’t even started sorting it yet.”

“S’fine.” But instead of moving, he just shuffled slightly, drumming his fingertips on the counter. She waited quietly, not rushing whatever was coming next.

“You know when you get back next week?” he began tentatively and she nodded, encouraging him to continue. “Do you think… do you think I could come and live here for a while? Like, all the time, not just every other weekend?”

He blurted it all out in a rush, quickly ducking his head to avoid her questioning look of surprise.

“What’s brought this on?”

He shrugged moodily, a dark shadow of his former self flitting across his downturned face. Knowing better than to press, she just quietly sipped her cooling coffee, waiting.

Finally, he looked up and met her inquisitive gaze. “She’s just always going on at me about my exams.”

“And you think if you lived here, we wouldn’t?” She cocked an eyebrow at him and he rolled his eyes.

“You’re different. You’re cooler about stuff.”

A small glow of pride warmed her chest but she forced herself not to gloat.

“I’m sure that’s not—”

“And it’s like nothing I do is right,” he barrelled on, cutting her off. “And… she’s started saying I can’t go with you all in March.”

Y/N flinched. She was certain Cillian hadn’t heard anything of the sort from Aoife - he would have said. She knew how much he was looking forward to having his little family out there with him on his big night.

“Maybe she’s just trying to use it to motivate you..?” she offered, more charitably than she felt.

He shook his head, fixing her with a serious blue stare that was alarmingly like his father’s.

“No, she’s serious. She was a nightmare for weeks after Finn got back from the Globes trip and there were all the pictures of him and dad…and you.”

Y/N felt her face warm, old guilt still churning within her and Eoin looked away, colouring at the admission, the disloyalty burning in his stomach.

“And I know I’ve got exams but like, my dad might win an Oscar. That might never happen again, y’know?” he said more gently, dropping his head into his hands, raking them through his dark hair. “I just… can’t deal with her at the moment. Please can I come and live here..?”

“Sweetheart…”

“Please Y/N?” He fixed her with a wide blue, imploring stare.

She sighed, reaching to squeeze his hand.

“Look kiddo, this will always be your home, but you know as well as I do that there are some things where I’m not allowed to be the one who decides.”

“I don’t see why, it’s your house,” he huffed.

“Yes you do,” she said gently and he looked up, catching her serious expression with a sigh. “Because, unfortunately, every now and again it really matters that I’m not your actual mum. And this is one of those times.”

“I’m eighteen now - isn’t it up to me where I live? And I’ve known you half my life, it’s not fair,” he mumbled. “Finn doesn’t even really remember when they were together. Not properly.”

She shifted to wrap an arm around his shoulders, his slouched position letting her lean her chin on his head. “You’re not wrong, you’re an adult now. But I think you know it’s more complicated than that or you wouldn’t be asking.” He shifted slightly under her and she pressed a kiss into his hair. “I love you and Finn to the moon and back, you know that. But this is just something that has to be agreed between your mum and dad.”

“Fine,” he sighed, moving to look at her and she straightened up, leaning her hip against the counter. “But could you talk to dad first? He listens to you.”

She pushed her hair back from her face. “Ok, ground rules, because your mum is going to hate this, so if we’re going to cause a commotion I need you to be serious. If you move in here, you still have to do your weekends with her.”

He pulled a face.

“No. Non-negotiable. You might be an adult now but she loves you and she has as much right to see both of you as your dad. Plus dad will never be able to sell it to her without offering that. If things were reversed, he would - he did - fight to see you.”

“Not that he’s ever here…” he mumbled and she looked at him sharply.

“Hey, c’mon now, that’s not fair. He can’t help how insane it is with work at the moment but we only have a few more weeks and then life will go back to normal. And you know how much he misses you two, and how important having you here is to him.”

He shuffled a little, conceding the point.

“Secondly,” she continued, “and perhaps more importantly, you have to promise me right now that you’ll work hard without me - or your dad - hounding you. Because if you think you can come here just to doss around…”

He held up his hands. “I don’t. I promise. And I’ll even walk the dog for you when dad’s away. And… and I’ll do the dishes every night.” He forced himself to hold her stern stare, one he recognised from being occasionally deployed against his dad.

He had a fleeting moment of sympathy for his father.

“Ok, fine,” she relented, pinching the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses, knowing Cill even just so much as suggesting this to Aoife was going to spark an international incident. “But I mean it. I will be seriously disappointed if you come here and take the piss and your grades suffer. And not just because your mum would love to blame me for that.”

He nodded seriously, only too aware of that fact. “I promise, Y/N.”

She nodded and to her great surprise he suddenly enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug.

“If he says yes, can I move in next Tuesday?” he asked as he released her.

“If your mum agrees, then yes. Dad won’t be here though.”

“Where is he this time?”

She waved her hand tiredly. “New York, I think? Yet more Oppie Q&A.”

“He must be so sick of talking about that film.”

“Him and me both,” she sighed, following him out into the hall as he put the lead on Scout, shouldering his bag.

“I’ll chuck him round then back when we’re done,” he said, quickly giving her a one armed hug as Scout snorted, face pressed against the door, keen to be off. “Thanks, I promise I won’t let you down.”

“Don’t thank me yet - they haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

He grinned, pulling open the door, wobbling as Scout took off enthusiastically and nearly yanked his arm from its socket.

“They will though.”

She closed the door as his loping form disappeared out the gate, sighed and rested her forehead against the wood.

It was only Tuesday and this week was already feeling long. And now she had to somehow mediate world war three.

Part iii

I promise from part 3 onwards this story will contain Actual Cillian 🙈 When it was just one story you wouldn’t have noticed but I’m more aware he’s been absent now it’s in pieces - I hope you’ll stick with me! Let me know what you thought in all the usual ways 🤍 xx

Masterlists: CILLIAN | LOCKDOWN | MAIN

There is a whole universe of this family in the Lockdown masterlist, plus you can read their exploits during the making of Oppenheimer HERE

Tag list: @runnning-outof-time , @zablife , @garrison-girl-08 , @look-at-the-soul , @buttercupsandboys , @notyour-valentine , @elliotshelbyjones , @shelbydelrey , @theshelbyclan , @theshelbyslimited , @pintofsweets , @flyingjosephine-blog , @christinasyellowflowers , @midnightmagpiemama , @l1-l4-deactivated20231226 , @allie131313 , @star017 , @lespendy , @blondie-22 , @dragons-are-my-favorite , @emotionalcadaver , @brummiereader , @alessioayla , @lyarr24 , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @forgottenpeakywriter r , @kittycatcait219 , @cybernuttragedy456 , @babaohhhriley , @watersquirtpewpewboomm , @stevie75 , @padfootdaredmetoo , @moral-terpitude , @shaddixlife , @peakyscillian , @majesticcmey (unable to tag) , @rangerelik , @guenievresworld , @margew76 , @camilleholland89 , @woofgocows , @cilliansangel (unable to tag) , @ayomurphys , @elenavampire21 , @elk96 , @scorpiussage , @cillixn , @esposadomd , @grapejuiceblues , @throughgoeshamilton , @polishcrazyone , @shjjpm , @duckybird101 , @maeleeme , @cillmeslowly , @kmc1989 , @nela-cutie , @magicalmushroom0 (unable to tag) , @86luvrs (unable to tag) , @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky (unable to tag)

#cillian murphy #series

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ayomurphys · 1 year ago

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STOPPP this is so sweet please do more daughter and Tommy stuff because oh my god is he ever meant to be a girl dad!!!!!!!!!!!! Also in my mind I think her cooking is fantastic and all the guys need to adjust their tastebuds!!!!!

Lovely fic as always, K 🥹, thank you so much for sharing I hope you know by now HOW MUCH I absolutely adore your stuff. You could switch fandoms all of a sudden and I’d still be seated. You’re the best!!!!!!!!

A (Debatably) Lovely Dinner | Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby & Daughter!Reader

Summary: (Y/N) has her family over for a dinner that she worked so hard to prepare. Her father and uncles tell her that it tastes lovely...but are they actually thinking that?

Warnings: drinking, language

Word Count: 1773

A/N: this is the first daughter!reader fic I’ve written in a bit - I hope it’s good. I’m excited to be writing requests again! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories!

(Y/N) wrang her hands together as she looked over all of the pots that were currently boiling on the stove. She took a breath and let it out slowly, trying to compose herself and shake the nerves from her body.

"You're doing great, love. It's going to be a good meal," her husband, James, offered some encouragement as he came up behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the side of her head as he pulled her into his chest.

"Maybe I should have accepted the catering offer? There's a lot of people coming over," she expressed her worry, eyes still focused on the pots. She then began to wonder why she even agreed to hosting her family in the first place.

"This is going to be extra special because you made it all," he told her, kissing her temple once more before letting her get back to work. "And your cooking is wonderful," he complimented her, sending a smile her way as she turned to look at him.

She smiled back, although it wavered due to the nerves she was still feeling, watching as he exited the kitchen before she got back to work.

(Y/N) was bringing the final dish to the dining table two hours later. She smiled at everyone who was waiting patiently for dinner to start and took a deep breath as she moved to stand behind her husband's chair.

"James and I would like to thank everyone for coming tonight. I hope that you enjoy what I've prepared for you to eat," she gave a small speech, her nervous smile still present as she then sat down.

"Let's eat then, eh?" Tommy suggested, smiling at his daughter from the opposite end of the table. He was proud of her for this vast spread that she'd managed to cook up. It smelled wonderful to him.

Comments of agreement came from around the table as everyone began taking dishes and spooning helpings of the food onto their plates. (Y/N) watched as this happened, wanting to make sure all was well; filling her plate last.

Dinner began quietly, the sounds of forks hitting plates the only thing to be heard. (Y/N) couldn't help but sneak a few glances around the table, wanting to see if there were any problems. All looked fine to her.

Somehow, she didn't manage to catch her uncles, John and Arthur, throwing sideways glances at each other in between each bite they took. Something about the taste seemed off to them. Whether it was the seasoning on the roast, or the choice or cut of the vegetables, the food wasn't exactly pleasurable to eat.

But the pleased look on their niece's face told them that she was happy to have the family over, eating a dinner that she worked so hard to prepare. They couldn't even think of ruining things for her by bringing up the fact that her cooking was well under par.

And besides, Tommy seemed to be fine with eating it, and he never ate anything.

Dinner continued and small talk was made. The usual discussion of business between the Shelby family had been swapped for stories of the past and the men making arrangements for their annual hunting trip that was fastly approaching.

All was well until (Y/N) decided to ask the table for opinions on the food. "How has everyone been enjoying the food?" She wasn't sure if she was being too upfront in asking for opinions, but no one had offered any prior to her question, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't dying to know their thoughts.

"Lovely as always, darling," her husband, James, was the first to share his thoughts on it, sending her a smile as he cut himself another piece of the roast.

"Thanks, James," she smiled back at him before looking out to the rest of the table. No one else's eyes met hers; their gazes cast down on their plates. Maybe that means they really like the food, she thought to herself. "Dad?" she asked after a few moments had passed. Tommy looked up at her, his brows raised as if to say 'what?' "What do you think?" she asked, curious to know what his thoughts on the meal were.

"It's good, love," he told her, nodding as he grabbed his glass of whiskey, "really good."

"Thank you," she chirped in response, feeling extremely pleased with herself. She grabbed her fork and knife then and went to cut a piece of the roast.

"Well I think that..." another comment started to come out, but it was abruptly stopped. "What the bloody hell was that for?" the voice belonged to Linda Shelby, and she was now glaring daggers at her husband, Arthur. Arthur had his brows furrowed as he glanced between his wife and (Y/N), a bit of an uneasy expression present on his face. "Spit it out, Arthur," she snapped in a harsh whisper. Arthur said nothing of sustenance though, instead just shaking his head and muttering "don't," under his breath.

"Were you going to say something, Linda?" (Y/N) asked, her curiosity peaked as she focused on the blonde woman.

Linda shared one last look with her husband, who was still discreetly shaking his head, before she plastered a smile on her face and turned to look at the younger woman. "I was just going to say that...that...this is a lovely dinner, (Y/N)," she finally shared her opinion on the cooking, although it may not have been originally what she wanted to say. (Y/N) took it though, a smile breaking onto her features.

"Aww thanks so much, Linda. I was so worried about this dinner. I'm so happy to hear that everyone is enjoying it," (Y/N) expressed her previous worries with the group, earning a chorus of 'no it was good’ comments in response.

Overly pleased with herself now, (Y/N) was smiling from ear to ear as she continued eating her dinner. Just wait until they try the dessert, she thought to herself, pride flowing through her.

The Shelby men followed James into his study after the dessert plates had been removed from the table. (Y/N) had decided to take the women around for a tour of her new home, a tour which the men felt they didn't need to join. All five of them had a glass in their hand, and they were seated on the chairs that were positioned around the mantle.

"I don't know how you do it, James," Arthur said with a sigh as he brought his glass back to his lips. He took a drink and then let out a sigh after swallowing it.

"Do what?" James was confused by the older man's statement.

"Eat (Y/N)'s food daily," Arthur didn't beat around the bush. "I mean, she's me neice and I love her, but the food she cooks is fucking terrible."

James nodded slowly in response to Arthur's statement, a knowing look present on his face as he looked like he was fighting a smile. He then took a look at Tommy, checking the waters before sharing information about the daughter of a man who could do some nasty damage if he said the wrong thing. He wasn't surprised to see his father in law looking at him.

"Well how do ya do it?" John broke the silence, signaling to the other man that he'd been taking too long to respond.

"She's my wife," he began, a smile forming on his face, "I've learned to love every part of being with her."

"Ah you've gone soft, lad," Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at the response he got before he set his sights on his brother, "and you, Tom…how do you do it, brother?"

Tommy laughed to himself as he heard the question. He brought his whiskey up and took a sip, pausing for a moment longer before finally answering the question: "guess it grows on you." His response was simple, and he followed it with a shrug.

"You both have not a clue what you're talking about," Arthur commented with a shake of his head, "John, help me out here. It's nothing against (Y/N)...her food's just downright terrible, right?" he looked to his younger brother for some back up.

"Right," John nodded, raising his glass in agreement.

"Good man," Arthur praised his brother for answering in line with him.

"I think her cooking's good," Finn chimed in from where he was sitting by the fire.

"You wouldn't know what's good for ya, Finn," Arthur dismissed his youngest brother's opinion. Finn shook his head and looked at the fire, wondering why he decided to add his two cents in the first place.

Silence fell in the room then, and James couldn't help but keep thinking about his response to Arthur's question. It made him chuckle as he realized that maybe he hadn't been completely truthful with what he had said.

"What's funny?" John asked, catching the other man's laugh.

All eyes were on him in an instant. He could tell by their intent gazes that he wouldn't be able to get out of this one. "Nothing...it's just that," he paused, letting out a breathy laugh as he shook his head, "I will admit that her cooking has been harder to learn to love than the rest of her," he shared what he'd been thinking.

John and Arthur immediately began laughing, both happy that they'd gotten the young man to break and share his actual thoughts on their niece's cooking. They knew that he felt the same as they did just by the vague response he gave earlier, but hearing it cemented the victory.

"It took me a while too. You'll get there," Tommy cut through the laughter of his brothers to offer his son in law some advice. James smiled at Tommy, happy to know that maybe he'd be able to get used to it, just like his father in law had.

(Y/N) was sitting with the rest of the women in the front room. She'd become quiet, letting the others continue their conversation about the latest fashion trends. She had too much on her mind.

A smile was present on her face as she thought back to the dinner, and all of the lovely comments she received from her family. Giddiness bubbled up inside of her as her mind went to thinking about what she would cook for their next family dinner. She couldn’t wait to have them over again!

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #one shot

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ayomurphys · 1 year ago

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Ahhhh I’m so happy to be reading your lovely works again 🫂🫂. Also requests open!!!!! Holy shit!!!!!!!! I need to submit something some day AHHHH but even then I will be combing through all your Tommy stuff (old and new!) yet again. I think it’s been long enough I’ve forgotten it all so I can re read it 🥳

Change His Ways | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: In which Tommy falls for a woman out of his reach and does whatever it takes to get closer to her.

Warnings: Tommy’s certainly not canon here, language, smoking, religious themes (Tommy goes to church)

Word Count: 4025

A/N: I dusted this WIP off because I was itching to keep writing after I finished my celebration blurbs. The idea has Tommy ooc, but it was one that I just had to write down while reading a book - I’ll share a bit more about it down below for those who are interested (it’s based on a true story). Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in stories similar to this one!

Tommy's world stopped the second he saw her. She was in Polly's main room, gathering her cleaning supplies as he stepped into the home. He watched from the doorway as she tried, but failed, to take them all into her arms, the bucket and broom falling to the ground. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Gray," she quickly apologized to the woman standing next to the fireplace for the commotion, crouching down to - try and - gather it once more. Polly didn't say anything, only watching on as the younger woman struggled.

"Let me help you, miss," Tommy spoke up, balancing the cigarette he was smoking between his lips before he stepped over to her, leaning down to grab the stick of the broom before she could.

"Oh, thank you, mister," she smiled over at him, her (y/e/c) eyes instantly mesmerizing Tommy. He almost forgot what he was doing.

"Where do these need to go?" he asked after clearing his throat and pulling himself from his thoughts.

"Just outside. My father's picking me up," she responded, smiling over at him gratefully. He felt like she had knocked the wind out of him.

"Alright then," he nodded, standing in time with her and taking a bucket from her full hands so that she'd have less to carry. He then let her lead him out to where an older looking farm-typed truck was waiting. The man sitting in the driver's seat just glared at Tommy, who ignored his presence altogether. "Should be it," he remarked as he sat the broom and bucket into the back of the truck.

"Thank you, really," the woman smiled at him.

"You're welcome," Tommy nodded politely before she got in the truck and he walked back up the path to his aunt's house. Polly was standing in the entryway with her arms crossed when Tommy re-entered the house. "What, Pol?" he questioned, brushing past her into the main room.

"She's a good woman, Thomas," she heeded a warning. A warning that Tommy disregarded completely.

Tommy showed up at Polly's every day for a week until he figured out what times the unnamed, beautiful woman was present at the house. And each time she was, he would help her with the things that she needed to carry out to her father's truck.

He didn't quite get to his destination today because the very person he was looking forward to seeing was walking along the sidewalk about three blocks from his aunt's house. He slowed down his car with his brow furrowed, and bent his head down to look at her. "All ok?" he asked after he watched her take a few more struggled steps. "Your father coming to pick you up?"

"Not today," she shook her head, the tone of her voice showing how much she was struggling to keep everything in her arms. "He's been held up at the farm."

Tommy was out of his car the second he heard her answer. He walked around the side of it with a quickened pace before he took the bigger cleaning supplies from her arms. "I can take you home," he offered, already opening the back door of his car before she gave him an answer to set the supplies he'd taken inside.

"Oh I can't bother you like that," she tried to decline his offer politely, but Tommy didn't want to hear it.

"I insist," he stressed, his eyebrows raised slightly to show his seriousness. He held his eyes on her and saw her weary expression form into a smile. She nodded her head in agreement before he opened the passenger's side door for her to get into the car. Once she was in, he shut the door and walked back around to the driver's side.

"Do you have a name, sir?" she asked him almost immediately after he'd sat in the front seat, "because I feel like I should know the name of the man that has so kindly offered me a ride."

"It's Thomas Shelby," he said, clearing his throat before adding: "you can call me Tommy though."

The woman smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you, officially, Tommy. Thank you for driving me home," she spoke politely. “My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)," she added, her cheeks heating up slightly when she realized that she hadn't formally introduced herself to him.

"It's nice to officially meet you as well, (Y/N)," he couldn't help but smile as he tried her name out for himself, "and there's no need to thank me...the pleasure's all mine here," he concluded his sentence by turning his car back on and pulling away from the sidewalk so that he could take her home.

There was an older man leaning up against the side of a rusted farm truck as Tommy pulled into the driveway that (Y/N) said was hers. He looked rather intimidating standing there, and if Tommy wasn't in the line of work that he was, he definitely would have been put off by him.

"Hi, daddy," (Y/N) smiled as she got out of the car so that she could grab her supplies from the back. She was too slow, however, because Tommy already had it in his hands.

"Where do you want this?" he asked her.

"Just by the shed over there," she answered as she motioned to said shed, "I can place them where they need to go later." Tommy nodded and then walked the short distance so that he could rest the supplies against the wall of the shed. "Thank you, Tommy," she sent him a bright smile once he'd finished.

"You're welcome," he nodded, deciding that being paid in her smiles would be better than any lump sum of money he could ever receive.

"You Thomas Shelby?" (Y/N)'s father then came into the situation, his voice making Tommy's expression go serious as he turned to face the older man.

"I am," he nodded, extending his hand.

"What are your intentions with my daughter?" her father got right to the point, glancing at the hand but not shaking it.

Tommy found himself feeling like a young boy again, and it made him wonder just how interested he was in (Y/N) for him to be feeling like this. "I brought her home. She was struggling with carrying the supplies," he explained himself.

The older man looked Tommy up and down before nodding slightly. "Ok," was all he said before he turned and started to walk over to one of the barns on the property.

"Thank you, Tommy," (Y/N) sent him another smile, pulling him out of the confused stupor that was brought on by the previous conversation. "I hope you make it home safely."

"You're welcome, (Y/N)," he responded, loving how her name sounded coming from his mouth. He then returned her wave before he walked to his car and got into it, backing down the driveway and away from the beautiful woman who was standing and watching him leave.

"I think you're a bloody idiot for coming up with that idea," Polly spoke her mind after Tommy had finished explaining to her where he'd gone a few days ago.

"That's why I'm doing it properly," Tommy tried to work a different angle.

"Properly or not, the (Y/L/N)'s are a God-fearing family, and I can't remember the last time you stepped into a church with the intent of speaking to the Maker," she remarked, quirking an eyebrow in his direction. Tommy sighed in response, shaking his head as he brought the cigarette back up to his mouth. He and Polly then stared at each other for a few moments before the woman sighed and hung her head, "but you'll still give it a try anyway," she stated in defeat, knowing just by his glance alone that her nephew's mind was made up.

Tommy cleared his throat as he stood from the chair in Polly's living room. He grabbed his coat and pulled it over his shoulders so that he was ready to leave the house. Polly tried to call after him, but he wasn't listening to her words as he opened the door and exited the dwelling. After getting in the car and starting its engine, he began driving to (Y/N)'s house with the full intention of winning her father over.

"You cannot court my daughter," (Y/N)'s father spoke firmly from where he sat across from Tommy in the front room.

"She's a very lovely woman, and I will be a gentleman to her," he tried to sway the older man, laying on the Shelby charm in full force, "all I am asking is for a date with her." If only his family could hear him now.

"If you want to see my daughter, you'll see her at church," her father decided, nodding his head once to show his decision was final.

"Mr. (Y/L/N)..."

"Save it, Shelby," the older man cut Tommy off, standing to leave the conversation. Tommy watched him walk, knowing there was nothing more that could be done. He also stood, showing himself out. He looked to the farmhouse after opening the door to his car and saw (Y/N) standing in one of the second floor windows. A sigh escaped his lips. He knew what to do.

Tommy met the (Y/L/N)'s at their church that Sunday. No one bothered to question how he knew where they worshiped, and he was thankful that he didn't need to explain.

They all sat in the same pew, Tommy to the right of (Y/N), of course, while her father sat on her left. He didn't listen much to the sermons, or participate in singing along with the choir.

He did, however, try to get even closer to (Y/N). After a few glances down, he slowly inched his hand closer to her lap. At first he attempted to take hold of her hand. She moved it away the second she felt his fingers brush hers. But she didn't look his way though, still focused on what the preacher was saying. So he let his hand stay there. Instead of holding hers, he flipped his palm down and draped his fingers over the curve of her thigh.

His hand had just started to warm from her body heat when he felt a sharp, but silent, smack land on the back of it. It made him remove his hand and quickly look her way. She was still looking straight ahead. Tommy kept his eyes on her, his brows furrowed. He was sure that he hadn't imagined that; she'd just smacked him.

The feeling of his eyes on her made (Y/N) glance to her right. She knew he wouldn't look away until he addressed her. But her father would instantly know that her attention had been taken off of the message being told. Ever-so-slowly, she leaned closer to Tommy, getting close enough so that he could hear her whisper. "There should be no touching in the Lord's house. It's considered blasphemy."

Tommy couldn't respond because she sat straight again the second she finished speaking. He took one last look at her before looking straight again, his hand resting on his thigh once again.

Tommy continued going to church with (Y/N) and her family every Sunday, and eventually they got into a routine of him walking her back home.

Every Sunday, they'd stop at the beginning of her dirt driveway, and she'd thank him with a kiss on his cheek. They'd then say their goodbyes and she'd begin walking to her house. Tommy would stay and watch, waiting until she was on her porch before he left.

This Sunday was different. (Y/N) was unusually quiet on the way home. The walk that was normally filled with her sweet laughter and entertaining stories was now overruled by silence.

They stopped at the end of her driveway, and (Y/N) turned so that she could face him. Tommy's eyes were immediately on her, and he noticed that she was looking at the ground. "I won't be in church next Sunday," she finally spoke, playing with her fingers in hopes it'd give her something to focus on. She glanced up at him through her eyelashes then, seeing that he was looking out at the fields for a moment. Thinking now'd be the best time to say goodbye, she lifted her head and leaned in to press her lips to his cheek.

Tommy turned to talk to her at that same moment, and he was met with the most rewarding accident he'd ever been given in his life when his lips met hers. The kiss was soft, quick, and innocent. Too quick for his liking.

(Y/N) pulled back with a gasp the second she realized what was happening. She looked at him then, her eyes now opened wide; looking as if she'd just seen a ghost, or a horrible crime be committed. I've fucked this up, Tommy thought to himself, the breath caught in his throat. The worst part about it was that he didn't quite know what to say that could make the situation better.

So he just stared at (Y/N), watching as her eyes searched his for what seemed like eternity. Then, after what felt like forever, (Y/N) leaned in and pressed her lips to his again. She kissed him more soundly this time, and he took hold of her waist to make sure that she wouldn't leave him too soon. When she eventually moved to pull back, he let her, keeping his eyes closed when she stayed close and rested her forehead against his.

"Why?" he asked once their breathing had returned to normal.

"Huh?" she was clearly confused by his sudden question, and she finally pulled back to look at him once more, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Why won't you be there, love?" he asked with a soft laugh, squeezing her waist softly as he remembered that he was still holding onto her.

Realization struck her and her confusion melted into a sheepish smile, remembering what they were talking about before the kiss happened. "My family and I are traveling to see my grandparents. We'll go to the service at their church since we'll be staying through the weekend," she explained the reason behind her initial statement.

"Should I find you there?" he asked her then, wondering if he could still make things work. He'd been seeing her every Sunday for a month and a half now, and he'd be lying if he said that he didn't look forward to it every week.

"There's no need for that, Tommy," she giggled, her stomach filling with butterflies at the sweetness of his voice. "I'll be home before you know it."

"Then I'll be waiting," he nodded, showing his sincerity as he squeezed her waist once more, his actions making her smile. His eyes flitted down to her lips then, their closeness and inviting nature becoming paramount in his mind again. "Can I?" he asked permission before doing anything, something he never could have imagined himself doing weeks ago.

"Please do," she smiled at him, her hands finding his collar as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers once more.

"Fuck," Tommy huffed, pressing his fingers to his eyes in frustration.

"So what do we do, Tom?" Arthur asked his brother, clasping his peaked cap in his hands. "He's there. He's for the taking. We could just..."

"No," Tommy cut him off abruptly, leaning forward so that he could rest his elbows on the desk and put his head in his hands, "no, there'll be problems if we do that."

"Then what?" John chimed in, a bit of an incredulous look present on his face. "We know he did it. He shouldn't get to even think he got away with it."

"We do it another way," Tommy insisted.

"What way?" Arthur asked.

"I don't know yet," Tommy huffed, finally looking at his brothers before he continued, "but you fuckers better not try anything." He accented his direction by pointing at each of the two men as he spoke, his eyes wide to convey his seriousness.

Silence fell in the room then. John and Arthur shared a look before focusing back on their brother. They were both thinking the same thing...but who was going to be the one to say it?

Arthur looked to John again. "Seems like our brother's gotten himself a new perspective," he commented aloud, seeing Tommy's eyes snap to him from the corner of his.

A grin formed on John's face as he heard his older brother speak. Arthur was the one to cast the first stone. Now the floor was wide open. "I think it's because he's been going to that bloody church each weekend," he shared his thoughts on the situation.

Arthur shook his head. "Nah. The only reason he's going there is so he can give that girl a quick shag. You think it'll be worth it, Tom?"

Tommy was now seeing red. "What the fuck are you two going on about? Eh?!"

"That girl from Pol's place. (Y/N), was it?" John answered, even though the previous question was meant to be rhetorical.

"Yeah, yeah. That's her name. She's real pretty," Arthur commented, a smug grin now present.

Tommy couldn't take the comments anymore. He slammed his hand down on the desk, commanding their attention immediately. "Enough!" he bellowed, his eyes wide with anger. "You're not going to talk about her like that. In fact, you're not going fucking to talk about her at all. Understood?" He let out a heavy breath then, looking between the two of them before he swiped at his hair, returning the strands that had fallen over his forehead back to their resting place.

Neither John nor Arthur responded verbally to their brother's statement. Arthur let out a grunt of agreement and John merely nodded, both surprised by the show of emotion they'd just witnessed.

Tommy nodded in response to the silence. "Good. Now go out and figure out how we can get this guy. We need to do it cleanly," he gave them an order, one that made the two of them nod before turning and heading to the door.

John exited without another word, but Arthur stopped with his hand on the door's handle. He looked back to his brother, who had both of his palms placed flat on the desk as he finished recollecting himself.

"She really means something to you, doesn't she?" he broke the silence hanging in the room. His question made Tommy look up. They held eye contact for a few moments. Not a word was said. Arthur got his answer though; he could see it in Tommy's eyes. So instead of prolonging the staring contest, he nodded and exited the office.

Tommy let out a huff as the door shut, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the chair. (Y/N) came to mind then, and he relished in the thought of her as it made his stresses wash away.

Tommy just happened to be sitting out on the floor of the betting shop when the most out of place looking person entered the building. He clocked the man speaking to Scudboat and continued working on the papers in front of him as he tried to listen into the conversation.

"Is Mr. Shelby in?"

"He's busy. You'll need an appointment. That can be arranged with his..."

"I just need to speak to him for a moment."

"You'll need to arrange an..."

"He's fine to speak with me, Scudboat," Tommy cut into the conversation, coming over to where he and (Y/N)'s father were standing by the door.

"Yes, Mr. Shelby," Scudboat bowed his head as he left the conversation, knowing he was no longer needed.

"What can I do for you, Mr. (Y/L/N)?" Tommy asked (Y/N)'s father then, his eyes trained on the man who still looked so out of place.

"I'm not here to spend any money," the older man quickly replied, a rather sour look present on his face.

"I never thought you were," Tommy responded, hoping that his level voice would ease the other man's inhibitions. "Has something happened to (Y/N)?" he asked then, his brows furrowing as a feeling of worry washed over him.

Mr. (Y/L/N) looked around the room for a moment before his eyes found Tommy's again. "Can we speak somewhere more private?" he requested, the inflection of his voice not giving Tommy any concrete answer to his question. He hated that.

"We can," the gangster nodded, then moving towards one of the private offices - a little too quickly for his liking. "Has something happened to (Y/N)?" he asked again once the two men were behind the closed door.

(Y/N)'s father sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, shaking his head every so slightly before he began speaking, "I know what you do...and I know that it's not right, nor good..." he started, his eyes darting around the room so he wouldn't have to hold Tommy's stare. "But I've seen you with my daughter, how you've tried to open up and let God into your life..." he paused again, taking another deep breath. Tommy wished he'd say what he needed to already. "She sees something in you that I can not, Mr. Shelby, and I hope that you see something in her that goes beyond physical desire."

"Way beyond, Mr. (Y/L/N)," Tommy was quick to tell him, "she's...she's changed me in ways I'd not thought possible."

"Good," the older man nodded, looking pleased with the response he'd gotten. Silence hung in the air then, and both men stared at each other. It was almost like one was waiting for the other to crack; for the other shoe to fall. Mr. (Y/L/N) was the one to speak first. "You have my blessing. You can court my daughter."

Tommy exhaled the breath he didn't know he was holding upon hearing the other man's statement. He immediately extended his hand. "Thank you, Mr. (Y/L/N)."

"Treat her well, Thomas," her father sternly said, accepting the handshake Tommy had offered.

"I will."

Tommy and (Y/N) arrived at the road to (Y/N)'s home, and (Y/N) turned to face him like she always did. She smiled at him, sweetly thanking him for walking her home from church. Tommy smiled at her, tipping his hat and making her giggle - like he usually did. (Y/N) then leaned in and pressed her lips to his, giving him the quick kiss that she'd always leave him with. This time, however, Tommy's hands found her waist and he held her close to him when she pulled away.

"Be mine," he whispered against her lips, pulling back slightly so that his eyes could find hers.

"Tommy," (Y/N) breathed in response to his statement, "my father..."

"He gave me his blessing," he assured her, "will you be mine, (Y/N)?" he asked this time.

A smile spread across (Y/N)'s lips as butterflies erupted in her stomach. This is what she'd been waiting for. Everyone had told her that Tommy Shelby was a man who was to be feared, but that was not the Tommy Shelby that she had the pleasure to know; to get close to. And now he was asking her the question she'd hoped he'd ask ever since the first kiss they shared.

"Yes, Tommy," she answered with a slight nod, excitement bubbling up inside of her, "yes, I'll be yours."

Her words made a smile form on Tommy's face, and instead of saying anything in response, he leaned in and kissed her, showing her how happy he was to hear her answer through the passion he put into the kiss. She was the only person who'd get him to change his ways...and now she was his.

**a little bit about the background: this was based off of a vignette that I read in a book about America in WWI — a man, who was rather rowdy, into no good things, took interest in a woman, and the woman’s father told him that the only way he’d get to court her is if he came to church. The man essentially changed his lifestyle around for her because he was so interested in her and they eventually got married — so just like Tommy, he got the girl.

———

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife

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ayomurphys · 1 year ago

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I lowkey saw that cheating tag and didnt even hesitate clicking to read more

Love love love the messiness already!!!! No story is good when it’s just perfect (well, maybe some.) Bobbie I can tell is already about to be a fave of mine but honestly when isn’t an OC of yours my favourite?? LMAO.

I Love the juxtaposition (?) between Bobbie’s feelings towards the two. They’re so so so so funny to me I love it already. Also Mace was my nickname in high school so it’s just a little bit more funny to me.

As always miss Alex I love your writing more than words, the way you’re able to suck me in and keep me in this little surreal world and build upon what we know already about Capa… mwah!

Welcome to Part 1 of my newest series, featuring Capa from Sunshine and my new OC, Bobbie Lynch. Thank you to everyone who voted to say they would be interested in reading this - I hope you enjoy it! Please do interact because motivation can be a flighty thing and your comments and support really do keep me going. You know the drill by now -> comments = more content.

Summary: A little under halfway into a 3 year mission to try and reignite the Sun and save Earth from freezing over, Bobbie should have more important things to worry about than her sex life. In fact she shouldn’t even really be having a sex life. Instead though, she finds herself caught between two of her crew mates, in a mess of her own making.

Warnings: 🔞 Smut. Cheating - this is going to be a theme throughout so if you don’t like that, don’t read. Please don’t waste my time and yours complaining about it in the comments. Probably inaccurate depictions of space travel and physics 🙈 Let’s be real, you’re not here for that tho, you’re here for the filth 😉

Word count: 5162 SERIES MASTERLIST

Part 1: Star Crossed Lovers

It was easy now, with the gift of hindsight, to see how stupid she had been. That it was never going to end well, even before she made everything a hundred times more complicated. The guidelines for crew were there for a reason. Missions like this - though really there was no other mission truly like this - were clear that crew members shouldn’t form romantic or sexual relationships. Almost three years on a spaceship, confined to living in close proximity with seven other people, was a recipe for relationship disaster.

It had started with loneliness. Or, more accurately, horniness if she was truly honest with herself. Mace had been in her class when she joined the space programme after a few years of flying fighter jets in the military. Loud, obnoxious, full of his own self importance, she would gladly have strangled him on numerous occasions. But he was smart. Irritatingly so. He had a way of making even the most complicated technical challenges lie down for him.

A skill he also had in other parts of his life, with his Ken doll clean cut good looks and laughing eyes.

She’d held out for almost a year into their journey across the cosmos, weathering his apparently inexhaustible supply of overt flirting with eyerolls and acerbic remarks. But it was wearing, and slowly he ground away at her defenses. The final straw came one fateful night when, realising it was New Year’s Eve back on Earth, the crew had broken out some of their limited supply of alcohol to toast the occasion. Each silently hoping that by the end of this new year they would have saved the world, reignited their dying star, and be on their way home.

And so it was that lonely and horny, and a little bit tipsy, she had pulled him into her bunk and broken her cardinal rule of never fucking a coworker.

The morning after she vowed it would never happen again. It was Mace. What the fuck was she thinking?!

But that was the problem with scratching an itch - you have to keep scratching to satisfy it, and it only gets more intense. And, as she sank down on his thick cock, his warm abs firm and tensed beneath her hands as his hips rose to meet her as she rode him, she finally understood why he had been so popular with her female classmates.

They had tried to keep it a secret for a few weeks. But, as Corazon had teased her later on, it had been fucking obvious from the start; Mace wasn’t exactly renowned for his poker face and he was roaming around with even more swagger than usual. Even their captain, Kaneda, who she had feared might chew her out for breaking the rules, had given her a good ribbing for it in his own quietly deadpan, subtle way.

But it wasn’t a ‘relationship’. At least that’s what she told herself. It was just fucking. After all, he was still the most obnoxious person she had ever met. But as the months wore on and she found herself waking up in his bed more regularly than her own, she was forced to admit that maybe there was more to it.

He was actually quite charming when he wanted to be. Sweet even.

But by the time they had been travelling for almost fourteen months, she was beginning to regret her life choices. Regretting especially that if she was going to be foolish enough to get herself involved with a coworker, that she had let it be Mace and not another.

The one she was finding increasingly difficult to get out of her head.

*****

Fifteen months ago - Earth

God it was like the first day at school - if their school was so exceptionally private that only eight students attended it. Eight strangers - or near strangers - chosen for their unrivalled abilities in their professions who would spend the next three years confined together in a metal tube hurtling through time and space. A physicist, an engineer, a botanist, a communications expert, a computer genius, a doctor, a pilot and a captain to watch over them all.

The small group milled around the too large atrium, the white walls nondescript, lights blazing even though it was only ten in the morning; the weak sun filtering through the glass roof above no longer able to provide the light they needed. A world in perpetual twilight - the reason for their mission in the first place. Making awkward small talk, they waited for their orientation to begin. Sizing up the people they would be trapped with for the next 1,095 days. Or there abouts.

Shit. It sounded much worse when she thought about it in days. Particularly when, with a deep sigh, she recognised one of their crew.

“Bobbie!” beamed Mace, and she was aware of the others glancing towards her as he slung his arm around her shoulders in his usual overly-familiar fashion. “Fuck! How long has it been? Ten years?”

“Eight,” she corrected, shuffling out of his grasp, folding her arms across her chest as he unsubtley let his eyes linger there.

“Fuck. Long time,” he grinned, rubbing his light brown close-cropped head. It looked soft and velvety and for some inexplicable reason her fingers itched to touch it. “Is it somehow possible that you got hotter since the programme? This is gonna be a fun trip.”

She fixed him with a look that would have withered most men, but it just seemed to glance off him and his megawatt grin.

“I see you haven’t changed, James.”

A quiet clearing of a throat to her left caught her attention and she turned to find a slight man, with shaggy dark hair and the bluest eyes she could ever remember seeing, standing beside her clutching a black coffee.

“Have you met Capa yet?” asked Mace, once again moving into her personal space. She wished he would stop acting like they were friends.

She wished he didn’t look like that. Or smelt so good. Or that she didn’t notice the way his biceps were bursting out of the sleeves of his tshirt. James Mace did not need encouragement.

“No, not yet.” She smiled at the other man, grateful for the distraction, and held out her hand. “Bobbie Lynch.”

He took it, and for all his slightness she couldn’t help but notice how his hand dwarfed hers, broad fingers cool around her own.

“Robert Capa.”

Mace chuckled beside her and she tried to edge slightly further away again as Capa dropped her hand.

“Well that’s gonna be confusing on board - Robert and Roberta. How will we ever tell you apart?”

She flashed him a narrow-eyed glance, feeling heat crawling to her cheeks. Of course he would be the one to embarrass her with her real name.

“Well for one, nobody except my grandma calls me Roberta. Unless I’m in big trouble. Or they’re looking for trouble.” Turning her attention back to Capa she saw his startling eyes filled with quiet amusement. “It’s Bobbie, don’t listen to this asshole.”

“You can all just call me Capa, save any confusion,” he smiled back, a lilt in his soft accent that she couldn’t quite place.

A wiry Japanese man with a neatly styled beard mercifully called Mace’s attention and she found herself alone with Capa.

“Soo…” She sipped her cooling coffee, wracking her brains trying to remember the names on the list she had been sent. “..you’re the physicist, right? The one who’s actually going to save all of humanity?”

His pale, freckled cheeks coloured slightly and he ran a hand over the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes. “I’m just the guy who gets to take everyone else’s hard work into space.” He shuffled a little, finally looking at her, the directness of his pale stare almost making her flinch. “Plus all of you are saving the world just as much as me. What are you?” He coughed nervously, fiddling with his paper cup. “I mean, what’s your job on board?”

“I’m the pilot. And the navigator and all round keep the thing in the air… well in the right place in the vacuum, girl.l”

“Sounds a lot more important than me then.”

The soft stretch of his smile was infectious and she couldn’t help but mirror it.

“When we get up there, I want to know everything about how it all works. If we’re going to save the world I want to understand how. Would you show me?”

“Only if you let me fly the ship,” he grinned.

“No deal,” she grinned back, just as they were called to order, filing slowly into a glass panelled boardroom for their initial briefing as a team.

One month to lift off.

*****

Fourteen months later - Icarus II

The day things got complicated was much like any other day. She hadn’t gone to Capa’s lab, down in the payload vault - a separate section of the ship that was designed to be decoupled when they reached the optimal coordinates - with any intention other than to hide from Mace. They’d had a fight about nothing at all and she couldn’t take him walking around with his wounded puppy face.

Or the fact that the only reason they had fought was because he clearly wanted more from her than she was willing to give.

If she’d known what was going to happen she might have gone and hid out in Corazon’s beautiful oxygen garden - the botanist was responsible for growing fresh produce and supporting a replenishing source of oxygen, both critical to their survival on this long a journey. For Bobbie, there was something almost mindful about helping her friend tend to the plants, ensuring conditions were perfect for their life-giving greenery to thrive.

Unlike many of the others, she didn’t have a specific place she needed to be most of the time, once she had got them safely into orbit and on their way. She had important checks and tests she ran daily but most of the day to day flying of the ship was run via autopilot, controlled by their highly intelligent computer, Icarus. And obviously if there was an emergency, she was the one who would need to step in and take control of the vessel. But for the most part, she was free to roam and help others.

Or get in the way, as Serle - their medical officer - liked to tease her.

She had kept her word about wanting to understand as much as she could about the gargantuan bomb they were flying to drop into the centre of the dying sun, to try and reignite it. She had some physics, obviously given her job, but not like this. The theoretical nature of the explosion was mind-bending. She had made Capa explain it over and over, taking her through the beautiful simulations time and again.

And so it was that alongside the garden, his lab that overlooked the payload was her favourite place to be. Harvey, their communications officer, couldn’t understand her fascination with it - he and most of the others found its dark brooding silence unsettling. But she found it peaceful in an entirely different way to the verdant serenity of the garden. It reminded her of the vast stillness of a cathedral.

And now that she understood it a little better, she liked trying to imagine what it would be like if and when they achieved their goal. The way Capa explained it, and the way the simulator displayed it, was visually breathtaking - a million billion sparks, that would be reductive to liken to being in the heart of a firework but she had no other frame of reference to describe it. And for a moment, their brightness would fill the air, hanging like stars scattered across the night’s sky, before the implosion that they hoped would bring their dying star back to life.

After the failure of Icarus I to complete its mission - losing communication with Earth over a year into its journey and never heard from again - she felt the weight of their responsibility when she looked at the payload. The entire planet’s remaining fissionable material. Their last shot at saving the world from descending into an unending ice age that would make nuclear winter look like summer camp.

Not that there were such things as summer camp anymore. There hadn’t been such a thing as ‘summer’ in a very long time. She’d only ever seen reference to such things in old movies and books.

Over the many months of their journey, she became fascinated with the bomb, this huge feat of human genius, something like the size of Manhattan, they were bearing hundreds of millions of miles from home. Standing in the control room, looking down at it, the scale never failed to make her feel like the tiny, insignificant bundle of atoms she truly was. It was oddly comforting.

“Bobbie..?”

She jumped at Capa’s quiet enquiry, unsure how long he had been there. Or how long she had been there, staring out at the bomb in silence.

“Are you alright?”

She felt the warmth of him beside her at the control desk, as she dragged her eyes away from the enormous nuclear device.

“I like looking at it,” she mumbled, glancing at him, quickly looking away. “It makes me feel…” She couldn’t quite find the word for it. Something paradoxical between insignificant and powerful.

“Me too.”

She could hear the smile in his voice and knew without looking that his blue eyes would be creased at the corners, softening their pale ferocity.

“Can you run it again for me?”

“Again? Wasn’t the twelve thousandth time enough for you?”

“Please? It’s beautiful.”

He could never say no to her when she fixed him with those big, dark eyes of hers.

With a quiet nod, his nimble fingers began flicking switches, programming the AI to simulate the moment of impact, like he had a thousand times before. The results were always inconclusive, the Sun’s unstable nature rendering the final stages of the payload’s trajectory uncertain. The jeopardy in their plan - ‘theory will only take you so far’, Robert J Oppenheimer had said, as Capa liked to quote - but she marvelled in it all the same. Her world was so full of cause and effect. Maths and certainty. Coordinates and flight plans. This…this for her was as close to art as science could get.

He leaned across her to access some of the dials and she caught a whiff of his cologne. It seemed silly that any of them would still be bothering with such frivolous things this far into the mission but he always smelt so inexplicably good. Something woody with a sharp freshness beneath. The back of his arm brushed her stomach and for a split second their eyes locked.

“Sorry, just need to get to…”

“It’s fine,” she mumbled, not moving out of his way, so he had no choice but to lean across her further. He steadied himself with his other hand on the small of her back and the warmth of his palm through her thin tank top made her breathing hitch in her throat. Not moving back he looked at her again, those crystalline eyes darting from her dark ones to her lips and back again.

Slowly, hesitantly, she ran her fingertips along his bare, freckled arm. Thoughts she had only ever allowed herself to think in the safety of her own bunk, flitting around her mind. Capa was her friend. Maybe even her best friend on board. She shouldn’t be thinking about him like that.

Should she..?

“Bobbie..?” he whispered as her hand reached his shoulder, skirting up and along his neck to his sharp jawline, the dark shadow of his stubble rough against the pads of her fingers.

She saw his eyes dart more obviously to her mouth and this time she didn’t hesitate. Gently pushing herself into him, she caught his lips, her fingers threading through the longer hair behind his neck. He jumped slightly as they connected, his mouth cushiony soft against hers. But then he was kissing her back, cupping her face between his hands as their lips moulded together slowly.

A small whimper sounded in her throat as he kissed her more fervently, parting her lips with his tongue so he could lick into her mouth. She pulled him by his vest, letting him push her back onto the edge of the control desk, slotting himself between her thighs.

Breaking apart, both a little breathless, he rested his forehead against hers, her eyes so dark it was like falling into the depths of space itself. How many times had he imagined this moment? Alone in his bunk, the muffled sounds of her and Mace bleeding through the walls. Imagined it was him making her make those desperate little sounds instead.

“What about—”

She silenced him with another searing kiss, robbing the air from his lungs. Hands sliding down her back to her hips, he pulled her closer, both groaning slightly as it made her rock against his growing hardness.

“Fuck…” he murmured into her mouth, rubbing himself against her core, and she made one of those delicious little whimpers he’d dreamed about. “This is a really fucking terrible idea, isn’t it?”

“Yup.” His lips grazed her neck, her fingers tangled in his long dark lengths. “Do you want to stop?” She pulled hard on the silken strands, his hips rocking harder into hers as he groaned, mouth hungrily meeting hers.

“Fuck no.”

He fumbled with the hem of her tank top, warm hands sliding across her skin, reaching higher. Gently, he pulled it up until his thumbs were running under the elasticated edge of her soft cotton sports bra. Holding her eyes, seeing her give him the slightest nod of consent, he hooked under, pulling the fabric above her breasts so both her shirt and bra were stretched across her chest. She watched with quiet satisfaction as his bottom lip disappeared between his teeth as he took her in, thumbs gently teasing the stiffening peaks.

Ducking his head, his mouth closed around one, a high whine in her throat as he grazed his teeth across the firm bud, soothing it with sweeps of his tongue. As he turned his attention to the other, she fumbled with his own clothes, dragging the vest and his Icarus com from his body, so she could run her hands over his smooth skin, his narrow frame so unlike Mace’s bulk.

“Capa...” she murmured as she fumbled with the buckle of his belt and he took the hint, unbuttoning her own, not particularly sexy, standard issue cargo pants. Lifting her hips she helped him pull them down her legs along with her underwear. She gasped as the coolness of the control desk met her skin but it was nothing compared to the jolt of his fingers sliding between her slick folds, running subtly against her clit.

“Jesus fuck… you’re so wet,” he growled appreciatively, sucking on her neck, unwittingly finding the spot that was like a mainline to her clenching cunt. She gripped his shoulders as he slowly pressed two broad fingers against her tightness, easing into her so achingly slowly that she was bearing down on them, desperately seeking more. And when he swiped his thumb over her clit, she almost blacked out.

“Is this all for me..?” he mumbled, hooking his fingers against the soft spot inside her that made her see stars, revelling in her panted gasps for air, already too far gone to form words.

Somewhere in the haze of the bright bolts of pleasure he was sending shooting through her veins, skittering under her skin, she managed to undo his trousers. Wasting no time she pushed them down his hips until he sprang thickly from their confines.

Holy shit. For a fairly small guy he was punching well above his weight.

The slightly strangled moan that left his throat when she wrapped her fist around him almost made her cum on his fingers. His lips were on hers as he pulled his hand away, catching her murmur of disappointment at the loss of contact. Smoothing his own precum and her slick over his length he guided it between her folds, pulling back from her lips as he tapped the tip heavily against her clit.

“Are you sure this is ok?” Blue, pushed to fine slivers around lust-blown pupils, filled her vision. “I can stop if you want?”

“Please,” she breathed, hooking a finger through the chain of his dogtags to pull his lips back to hers. “I want this.”

Slowly he breached her tight entrance, her head falling into his neck as he pushed inch after thick inch into her.

“Fuck, Capaa…”

Her desperate whimpers, her breath hot against his skin, the almost painful press of her velvety walls around his cock - it was nearly all too much. He hadn’t had sex with anything that wasn’t his own hand since they set off over a year ago. And it wasn’t exactly like he was getting it before he left Earth. Gripping her hips he pulled her right to the edge of the desk, dragging himself slowly out so he could slam back in, counting inside his head, focussing on anything he could to stop himself from cumming too quickly.

Balancing herself back on her hands, he watched entranced at how her breasts bounced with every sharp thrust of his hips. As she scrabbled for purchase he quickly leaned forward, making them both groan as he filled her to the hilt, reaching for her left hand.

“Careful,” he warned, voice thick with the effort of withstanding her fluttering walls. “Don’t want to accidentally set it off.”

She twisted quickly to look, seeing her fingers inches away from one of the big red buttons that detonated the bomb. It couldn’t actually be done so easily - for good reason - but it was a little too close for comfort.

“Hmmmm… that’s not quite the payload I had in mind,” she giggled quietly, a soft rush of air through her nose that gave way to a whimper as he moved deeply within her.

“Oh yeah?” his lips curved into a smile against her skin, holding her still, impaled on his cock as he traced his mouth down her sternum, licking lightly across one stiff nipple. “What kind of payload are you after, Ms Lynch?” He bit the sensitive bud gently, relishing the way it made her cunt clench harder around him, her hips desperately trying to rut against his.

“Fuck… will you stop playing and fuck me? Or do I need to pull rank?” His head snapped up to see water bright in her lash line, her full lower lip trapped between even white teeth.

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned, gripping the back of her neck to pull her lips to his, swallowing her grateful moans as he set a regular rhythm of deep strokes. Pulling away, she leant back again, placing her hands more carefully, letting him see how his arrowing cock split her wide open, her glistening cunt sucking him in.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he mumbled, vision beginning to blur as he felt his climax nearing. “Thought about this so many times.” He pushed her thighs wider apart so he could see his cock disappearing into her more easily, her pretty pussy glossy with her own arousal.

“Me…too… fuuuuck…” She tipped her head back, eyes squeezing closed as his thumb found her clit, pressing firmly on the little bundle as he filled her with increasingly rough, sloppy strokes. “Shit.. fuck.. Capa m’gonna..”

Before she could even finish speaking her thighs were quaking, warmth flooding up her spine as sparks of pleasure burst through her, shimmering in her vision like the exquisite violence of the simulated explosion she had watched so many times. Her heart hammered in her ears, whole body at once rigid and then collapsing into a dizzy, weightless state of bliss. Dimly, she was aware of him shuddering to stillness within her, a low rumble of a grunt in his chest as he painted her insides white.

Gasping for air, he fell forward, his forehead against her breasts. His long hair tickled her skin, strands stuck darkly to his flushed face and neck. His dog tags hung loose between their bodies, delivering tiny cold shocks as they swayed against her belly.

After a moment he lifted his head, sucking teasingly on her nipple, bright eyes sliding closed for a second as it made her walls flutter around his softening, sensitive cock.

“Fuck… that was…” He trailed off. He didn’t even have words for how good that had felt. Superior to his imagination in every possible way. Smiling softly, she coaxed his face to hers, catching his swollen lips in a languid kiss.

“Now what?” he asked quietly as she let him pull away.

“Now we try not to get cum on the desk,” she chuckled, not entirely joking; she could already feel him leaking out of her even though his cock was still snugly buried inside. “Don’t want to have to explain to the others why the controls stopped working.”

He frowned slightly, pulling out of her, unable to stop himself from watching the delicious sight of his pearlescent seed spilling thickly from her. Clearing his throat he tugged up his pants, tucking himself back into his underwear as he searched for his vest.

Pulling her top layers back into place she awkwardly shuffled off the desk, reaching for her trousers - they hadn’t even made it all the way off, still hanging around one of her ankles. Dragging them up her legs, she looked behind, seeing a small wet patch of their combined orgasm - more hers than his - shining on the desk and embarrassment warmed her neck, flowing up to her cheeks.

Oh god. She’d just had sex with Capa. Shit shit shit.

“Have you got..?” She gestured to the mess and he nodded, running a hand through his hair as he searched for a tissue. Cleaning it up as best she could, she made a mental note to come back and disinfect it later. After she’d had a shower herself.

“Soo…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck, but she cut him off.

“I should go.” She hid behind her hands for a moment, running her palms down her burning face. “Sorry, Capa. That shouldn’t have happened. I dunno what came over me.”

He shuffled as she tried to sneak past him to the door, his hands finding her hips.

“Is it really such a bad thing..? I mean, I’m glad it did.”

She made herself look up into his earnest, genuine blue eyes, and something in her stomach flipped.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

He silenced her with the softest kiss she had ever experienced and she couldn’t help but sink into it, his hands coming to cup her face as her fingers curled into his vest.

“I really like you, Bobbie,” he murmured against her lips.

She tried to pull away from his gentle grasp. “Capa, I can’t. This shouldn’t have happened. It won’t…” He brushed his lips against hers again, making her head spin. “It can’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “Why not? We’ve got almost two more years on this thing. You said you’d thought about it too. Are you really telling me you really don’t want this to happen again?” His full lips twitched in a teasing smile as he spoke but she hardened her features and shook her head, pulling away.

“It can’t. I’m technically your boss.”

“You’re technically Mace’s boss too but I haven’t seen that stopping you. Or should I say, heard it stopping you.”

Her eyes widened. “What’s that supposed to mean??”

He huffed out a mirthless chuckle. “The walls on this thing aren’t as sound proof as you think they are. And as far as I can see, you don’t seem too concerned about the chain of command when it comes to him.”

“What happens between me and Mace is none of your business,” she snapped, mortification flowing hotly through her veins, pushing past him to slap the exit button, the sliding door whooshing quietly open.

He followed her out into the hallway. “You’re right. It’s not. And frankly I don’t give a fuck about him. But I do give a fuck about you pretending this is somehow different. And it is my business what happened here today, Roberta.” He leaned on her full name, making her turn, dark eyes blazing.

“What happened today was a mistake, Robert. And if you tell anyone…”

He closed the gap between them, only slightly taller than her, eyes like frozen pools.

“You’ll what..?”

She opened her mouth but no words came out. He had her there. What could she possibly do? And he was right, how was this any different to what she was doing with Mace?

Well for one, she actually liked Capa.

A lot.

Fuck.

Shoulders sagging, she looked down at her fidgeting fingers playing with the small rectangular box of her Icarus com.

“Nothing,” she sighed. “I’m sorry.” Slowly she lifted her eyes to his, his angled features sharp, his jaw jumping slightly. “You’re right, it’s not different.” She groaned quietly into her hands, running her palms up and over her close-cropped curls. “Just…like you said, we have two more years on this thing. Things are already messed up - add you and me to that and it’s way too complicated. I just can’t.. please, Capa.” She stared at him imploringly. “Please don’t tell him?”

He blew out a long puff of air as she tentatively grazed her fingertips over his cheek.

“Fine. I won’t.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, leaning to press her lips against his again. As she tried to pull away his arms slid around her waist, holding her close and with a soft sigh she let him part her lips with his tongue again, pulling him closer with hands around his neck. Kissing him was so intoxicating, she just couldn’t seem to stop.

“I won’t tell him but you can’t tell me you don’t feel it too,” he mumbled against her lips, hands sliding lower to squeeze her ass.

“S’too messy,” she mumbled, gasping as he pressed her against the wall, lips grazing down her throat. “He’ll—”

He nipped her skin lightly, one roaming hand sliding under her shirt, cupping her breast.

“I don’t care.”

“Fuck..” she breathed as he teased her nipple back to hardness through her bra.

“There’s still a couple of hours until dinner,” he whispered, breath warm against the shell of her ear. “No one will be looking for us.”

She hummed softly in return as his mouth found hers again, and, against all her better judgement, let him pull her back into the lab, the door hissing closed, hiding them from view.

Part 2 - still to come

What do we think so far then friends? Do you want more? Please come at me in all the usual ways 🤍

Masterlists: CILLIAN | CAPA | SERIES | MAIN

Note: I’m tagging people who have at one time asked to be on my ‘everything’ tag list. If you DON’T want to be tagged, please just let me know. And similarly, if you DO want to be tagged, get in touch.

Tag list: @emotionalcadaver , @zablife , @garrison-girl-08 , @look-at-the-soul , @buttercupsandboys , @notyour-valentine , @valentinabloom , @elliotshelbyjones , @shelbydelrey , @theshelbyclan , @theshelbyslimited , @pintofsweets , @flyingjosephine-blog , @christinasyellowflowers , @midnightmagpiemama , @l1-l4-deactivated20231226 , @allie131313 , @star017 , @lespendy , @blondie-22 , @dragons-are-my-favorite , @raincoffeeandfandoms , @cillianmxrphy , @alessioayla , @lyarr24 , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @forgottenpeakywriter , @kittycatcait219 , @cybernuttragedy456 , @babaohhhriley , @watersquirtpewpewboomm , @stevie75 , @padfootdaredmetoo , @moral-terpitude , @shaddixlife , @peakyscillian , @majesticcmey (unable to tag) , @rangerelik , @guenievresworld , @margew76 , @camilleholland89 , @woofgocows , @cilliansangel (unable to tag) , @cljordan-imperium , @elenavampire21 , @elk96 , @scorpiussage , @cillixn , @esposadomd , @grapejuiceblues , @throughgoeshamilton , @polishcrazyone , @shjjpm , @duckybird101 , @maeleeme , @cillmeslowly , @kmc1989 , @nela-cutie , @magicalmushroom0 (unable to tag) , @86luvrs (unable to tag) , @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky (unable to tag), @red-riding-wood , @kiss-me-cill-me

#Robert capa #series

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ayomurphys · 1 year ago

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YASSSS CHRISTMAS she says in February

Love love love though!!!!!!!!! Music nerd cillian is just so unfortunately very very very real but also fortunately because it introduces me to so much!!!! I didn’t grow up with this type of Christmas so I genuinely didn’t know so many songs existed, OMG!!! They need to play Christmas Tree Farm by Taylor Swift tho… my personal opinion.

Also the BBC6 statement is correct, point to Mrs M. Also #Inclusion #GayMenLoveCillianToo

I desperately need to re read all their lore because nothing makes me happy quite like theirs 🫂 (and your writing!!!! Duh!!!!!!!)

This came to me in the night when I was stuffed up with the cold and couldn’t sleep. So be warned, this might be the cold-medicine induced ramblings of a crazy person 😂

Summary: It’s Christmas 2020 and Cill and Y/N are all alone because of the latest restrictions, cancelling all family gatherings. So instead they choose to get pissed and argue about Christmas songs. As you do!

Warnings: Bit of bad language. All views on Christmas tunes are my own. I’m sorry if I’ve insulted your favourites - don’t come at me! 🙈

Word count: 1265 MAIN SERIES

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

“Fuck off, Cill, ‘Happy Xmas (War Is Over)’ is not the greatest Christmas song of all time!” Y/N exclaimed, waving her wine glass in emphasis, only just catching it before red wine slopped over the rim. “Just ‘cause you’re in love with Lennon doesn’t make it good!”

Their heated debate about festive tunes had been going on for some time now. Even Scout had given them up as a bad job and retreated, full of turkey, to his bed.

And it was possible that their strategy for coping with the depressing fact of being entirely on their own for Christmas - because of the huge spike in covid cases - and drinking all the wine in the world ever, was maybe not their finest idea of all time.

“Well it’s not fucking ‘All I Want for fucking Christmas’!”

“I didn’t say that it was! All I said was that I know it’s Christmas when I hear Mariah. And it’s a damn sight more fucking festive than John-boy and Yoko.”

He chuntered something into his wine.

“I’m sorry?”

“Nothin’,” he huffed. Huffily.

She raised an eyebrow at him across the dining table, still covered in the detritus of their excessively large festive meal, that they had been expecting to share with at least the kids, before the last minute change in restrictions. Glancing up, he saw it and cleared his throat.

“Just… well I mean… only one of us here has a hit radio show…”

Her mouth dropped open at his barely ashamed audacity, a wide, cheeky grin spreading across his face.

“Oh it’s like that, is it?!

He spread his hands, well aware he was courting danger. “I’m just saying. You’re looking at BBC 6 Music’s popular guest DJ of 2019…”

She rolled her eyes. He was normally the last person in the world to go in for his own hype.

“You are aware, aren’t you darling, that the show only gets that much extra traction because there are millions of horny women — and men,” she corrected herself, “who have almost zero interest in the music and are only paying attention ‘cause it’s you?”

His face fell and she felt a slight pang of guilt. Pushing her chair back, she slowly made her way around the table, with only the slightest of wobbles. He shifted back too so she could slip onto his knee, arm settling around her waist, his other hand warm against her thigh.

“Go on then, oh wise music guru with the hit radio show, what other Christmas songs are the best?” she murmured, bumping her nose against his, his blue eyes bright and slightly glassy from the booze.

“Well obviously there’s McCartney’s—”

She groaned, making a noise like a game show incorrect answer buzzer. “I’m sorry no, it’s good but it’s not right! Cill, do you seriously only know songs by former Beatles?? You’re down to your last life - choose your next entry wisely.”

He shifted slightly beneath her so he could reach for his wine. “Alright then, if you’re apparently the authority, what’s the right answer?”

She leaned away from him dangerously, so she could grab her own glass from across the table, and he had to catch her around the waist to keep her from falling.

“There isn’t a right answer. Just lots of wrong ones,” she replied, apparently unaware of her precarious angle.

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling behind her back.

“I saw that,” she retorted, settling back in place. “But I know some we’ll both agree on.”

“Hit me.”

“The Ronnettes.”

“The Ronettes! Yes. Agreed. Classics all round. Though shame about Phil Spector being involved. Next?”

“The Pogues?”

“Hasn’t that been cancelled now?”

She thought for a moment. “Possibly. But I think they might have just taken the word out? It’s still a classic.”

He nodded sagely in agreement.

“Elton, Chris Rea, Etta James, Bing Crosby, Jackson 5, Sinatra, Wizzard—” He ceased nodding along, pulling a face. “Don’t you look at me like that - it’s not fucking Christmas without a middle aged man with a questionable beard screaming ‘It’s CHRIIISSSTMAAAASSS’ at you.”

He frowned again. “I think that’s Slade you’re thinking of, not Wizzard. Though the beards are Wizzard.”

She waved her nearly empty wine glass. “You know what I mean. And they both should be on the list.”

He pulled her a little closer and she slipped her arm around his neck, fingers playing idly in his hair.

“What about worst song of all time?”

“Oh that’s easy.”

“If you say Lennon—”

She beamed at him. “I wasn’t going to.” He raised an eyebrow and she wriggled a little in his lap as it sent a tiny spark through her.

“Shall we say it at the same time?” He nodded and she sat up straight. “Ok, on three. One, two, three…”

“Cliff Richard!” they both chorused, falling into giggles against each other. It was a tradition in their house that anytime the festive playlists plucked out a Cliff track at least one member of the household - kids included - would shout ‘turn that gobshite off!’.

Snuggling against him, having discarded her empty glass she smiled as he held her close. He smelt comfortingly like goose fat from the oven and red wine and his usual sharp but woody cologne. It was the weirdest Christmas they’d had since their very first one - a tale for another day - but yet, in the end, it had been oddly fun just the two of them.

“We should clear up,” she mumbled sleepily into his shoulder.

He hummed in agreement but his arms tightened around her. “You haven’t told me what your favourite christmas song is yet?”

She thought for a moment, twirling the ends of his hair in her fingers, the little brushes against his neck making him shiver. Had he had too much food and wine to consummate this festive day, he wondered.

“Well it depends on my mood - and Mariah is a total bop and you know it,” she teased, grinning at his pained expression. He would have to prise that song from her cold dead hands. “But I love the classics - Winter Wonderland, White Christmas, you know. But my favourite favourite of those is Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas.” A quiet, wistful look filled her eyes.

Though that might have been the wine.

“C’mon, up you get,” he said, gently tapping her leg, rooting in his pocket for his phone as she did so. He tapped away as she started gathering dishes.

“Leave those for a minute,” he said quietly as the opening strains of her favourite song began to play through the speakers. She turned, slightly confused, to find him holding out a hand. “Dance with me?”

He pulled her into the middle of the room, arm around her waist, swaying gently as the music filled the space. She rested her head against his shoulder, letting the moment wash over her, just breathing it in.

“I love you,” she mumbled, pressing a kiss against his neck.

He looked down, letting go of her hand to cup her face gently.

“I love you too. Merry Christmas, baby.”

Leaning, he caught her lips with his in a soft, languid kiss, the honeyed vocals of Frank Sinatra wrapping themselves around them.

Coming up for air as the song came to a close, she smiled, nudging his nose with hers.

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

The track changed in the background, and as the opening bars of Mistletoe and Wine kicked in, they both convulsed into giggles.

“Turn that gobshite off!” they shouted in unison, waking poor Scout with a start.

Merry Christmas darlings! For those who celebrate, I hope you have a lovely one. For those who don’t, for whatever reason, I hope you have a restful time 🤍

(Also, I do actually like the McCartney song - I just love to bully this man 🤭)

Masterlists: CILLIAN | LOCKDOWN | MAIN

Tag list: @runnning-outof-time , @zablife , @gypsy-girl-08 , @look-at-the-soul , @buttercupsandboys, @notyour-valentine , @valentinabloom , @elliotshelbyjones , @shelbydelrey , @theshelbyclan , @theshelbyslimited , @pintofsweets , @flyingjosephine-blog , @christinasyellowflowers , @midnightmagpiemama , @l1-l4 , @allie131313 , @star017 , @lespendy , @heidimoreton , @dragons-are-my-favorite , @raincoffeeandfandoms , @cillianmxrphy , @alessioayla , @lyarr24 , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @forgottenpeakywriter , @kittycatcait219 , @cybernuttragedy456 , @babaohhhriley , @watersquirtpewpewboomm , @stevie75 , @padfootdaredmetoo , @moral-terpitude , @shaddixlife , @peakyscillian , @majesticcmey (unable to tag) , @rangerelik , @guenievresworld , @margew76 , @camilleholland89 , @woofgocows , @cilliansangel (unable to tag) , @cljordan-imperium , @elenavampire21 , @elk96 , @scorpiussage , @cillixn , @esposadomd , @grapejuiceblues , @throughgoeshamilton , @polishcrazyone , @shjjpm , @duckybird101 , @maeleeme , @cillmeslowly , @kmc1989 , @nela-cutie , @magicalmushroom0 (unable to tag) , @86luvrs (unable to tag) , @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky (unable to tag)

#cillian murphy

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ayomurphys · 1 year ago

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Am I terrible and awful for catching up on Christmas fics in the holy month of Mid-February.

But anyway!!! So so so cute and so so so what I needed to read right now thank you darling 🥹❤️. There’s just something about goofy little Tommy (To Me). In my head he would be a little people pleaser but only for One Specific Person. Ever.

This is a fluffy little prequel one shot for the lovely K @runnning-outof-time’s 4k follower celebration. Congratulations again my love! 🤍 I hope you enjoy this little offering and it lives up to the ‘caught in 4k’ challenge!

You don’t have to have read the series to enjoy this - it doesn’t contain any spoilers. Check out the link below to find the story if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Emilia (OC)

Summary: Emilia has had the longest day helping Arthur with the pre-Christmas rush at the pub. But when she gets home she finds Tommy, doing something very unexpected indeed.

Warnings: None. Pure fluff!

Word count: 813 SERIES MASTERLIST

Those Christmas Lights (Light Up My Life)

It was late - much later than she’d intended - by the time Emilia was trudging up Watery Lane, heading for home. That would teach her to offer Arthur a hand behind the bar when the usual girl had called in sick. It was the weekend before Christmas - the first proper Christmas since the boys had come home from war (1918 didn’t really feel like it counted - things still so raw and confused and complicated as men straggled home) - and The Garrison was packed to the rafters.

It wasn’t the first time Emilia had pulled a shift in the pub - when she first arrived in Small Heath after being discharged from nursing in France, she had practically bullied Harry, the pub’s previous landlord, into hiring her. But when Tommy came back, and Polly warmed to her, she left the bar to join the family business. She gave them class, Tommy had joked, when she joined him at his first race meeting, wearing a dress he’d picked out for her that made her look like the aristocrat her father wished she would become. Though he scowled openly at any man who was brave (or stupid) enough to admire her.

But today hadn’t been one where she expected to be pulling pints for eight hours without a break and she had worn entirely the wrong sort of shoes for such an occasion. Irritatingly, Tommy hadn’t made an appearance in the pub all day so she couldn’t even send him home to bring her a change.

As she neared their little two up, two down terrace, down the road from the shop and the house he grew up in, she could see a strange sort of light spilling through the net curtains. Frowning, she fumbled in her handbag, searching for her keys, only for them to slip through her frozen fingers. Cursing, she bent down to retrieve them, finally succeeding in getting them in the lock.

Throwing her hip against the notoriously sticky front door, she shunted it open to be hit by a waft of the sharp scent of greenery.

But the smell was the least interesting thing about their small sitting room. Because in the middle of it, a cigarette pinched dangerously between his lips, was Tommy Shelby, half festooned in bright red streamers that he was fighting to get round a fir tree covered in tiny twinkling lights. A fir tree that was, arguably, at least a foot too large for the room. In every direction.

Feeling the gust of outdoor air as the door banged shut, he froze mid-decoration, eyes wide and round, staring at Emilia like a naughty school-boy. Who was staring back at him, jaw hanging open in surprise.

“You’re early.”

She was unable to form words.

“Arthur said you wouldn’t be back til ten.”

“I made Scudboat take over because my feet are killing me,” she mumbled, taking a step towards him. “What are you doing?”

He shuffled the streamers in his hands so he could throw his cigarette end in the fire. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m decorating a fucking tree.”

She pressed a small hand to her mouth, trying to contain the giggle that threatened to burst forth. “Well, yes, I can see that. But what are you doing decorating the tree? Have you fallen and hit your head?” She paused, eyes narrowing shrewdly. “What have you done?”

“I haven’t done anything!”

Which probably wasn’t strictly true because he was always up to something. But in this very specific instance, relating directly to her and the need to apologise, there was nothing he could be blamed for. That he could think of right away, anyway.

“But you hate all this stuff! Did we not have an argument about this very thing last week??”

“Argument’s a strong word for it, love,” he smiled, finally dropping the now tangled streamers to come and wrap his arms around her waist. “And as I recall, you were very happy about it by the end.” A cheeky grin crept across his face as he caught her chilly lips with his. Her hands slipped up around his neck, making him jump as her icy fingers brushed the close-shorn back of his head.

“I didn’t realise my efforts were quite so spectacular as to make you change your mind entirely,” she laughed quietly against his mouth. His forehead came to rest against hers, blue eyes enormous this close to her own.

“Oh they didn’t. Still think all this shit is ridiculous.” She swatted his chest as he grinned her.

“So why then, pray tell, are you doing all this?”

He cupped her face, thumbs stroking lightly over her cheeks, the glint of the fancy new fairy lights he’d picked up when he got the tree flickering in her big dark eyes.

“Because you wanted it,” he replied, pulling her into another soft kiss.

Look how cute they were, guys! 😭 Remember, tis the season of giving, so why not drop a comment or a reblog under my tree? 🤍🎅🏼

Masterlists: TOMMY | SERIES | MAIN

Tag list: @runnning-outof-time , @zablife , @gypsy-girl-08 , @look-at-the-soul , @buttercupsandboys , @notyour-valentine , @valentinabloom , @elliotshelbyjones , @shelbydelrey , @theshelbyclan , @theshelbyslimited , @pintofsweets , @flyingjosephine-blog , @christinasyellowflowers , @midnightmagpiemama , @l1-l4 , @allie131313 , @star017 , @lespendy , @heidimoreton , @dragons-are-my-favorite , @raincoffeeandfandoms , @cillianmxrphy (unable to tag) , @alessioayla , @lyarr24 , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @forgottenpeakywriter , @kittycatcait219 , @cybernuttragedy456 , @babaohhhriley , @watersquirtpewpewboomm , @stevie75 , @padfootdaredmetoo , @moral-terpitude , @shaddixlife , @peakyscillian , @dandelionprints , @everyonesawhoregrace , @majesticcmey (unable to tag) , @globetrotter28 , @rangerelik , @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake , @duckybird101 , @babayaga67 , @justlulu , @sweetmilkshakeluminary , @enchantingvibrant (unable to tag), @lothbrokcore , @silkiers , @guenievresworld , @margew76 , @fmo166 , @afghancoathippie (unable to tag) , @cljordan-imperium , @cilliansangel (unable to tag) , @vivre-dans-la-nuit (unable to tag) , @woofgocows

#tommy shelby #I actually DONT remember my tagging system so fuck all

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ayomurphys · 1 year ago

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I’ve been offline for like a bajillion years but im so so so so so so happy this is what brings me back I FUCKING LOVE THISSSS soft!tommy is so underrated idc what anyone says and I love the way he is so gentle with her and takes her time 🥹🥹🥹. I wish I could wrap him in a blanket and squeeze him to death he’s so previousjdjsdj. Love this so much ❤️❤️❤️❤️