#Cillian Murphy x POC Reader

[i-try-to-write-stuff]

Hiya mate again, this is the other user the requested for Tony, Stephen and Loki's fics. Well I do have other requests but let me ask this since I know you make Shelby fics you might make this aswell.

1# Dark!Cillian Murphy x Reader

Let me just say how it should start. Let's say that the Reader is an Actress that was casted for Oppenheimer (Or you can choose the movie/film). Cillian showed signs that he hates the reader but secretly loves her and because of the hate signs, the reader thinks he actually hates her and uhh just continues this fake rivarly then one day Cillian just asks the reader to come to the backstage in after hours (after work) and then maybe confront her about how much he loves her and after the reader refuses and declines his offer multiple times he ends up drugging and kidnapping the reader.

Sorry I explained the plot too much.

Thanks mate.

Okay...I may have gotten carried away and wrote a small blurb. Let me know if you guys want to see more of this.

There were no warning signs, nothing that could show your co-star’s obsessive feelings. His aloofness and borderline rudeness should have bothered you, and it did for a while, but you eventually got over it. You were a total boss, keeping your cool and staying polite with your head held high, knowing there wasn't any other way to handle it. We all know that Hollywood unfairly favors men. They can act badly with no repercussions, while women get scrutinized for the tiniest slip-ups. You did not let your negative feelings show and stay friendly with your co-stars and crew, even when they left you out of things. You knew that any drama could mess up your career at the peak of your fame. Luckily, your cast-mates made an effort to include you without upsetting Cillian. You actively avoided Cillian in get-togethers and parties because you didn't want to worsen your strained professional relationship. Since he was the lead actor and Nolan's top pick, and you were playing a supporting role, you could be easily replaced. Even though you didn't care, getting fired from a movie isn't a good look for any actor, let alone you…

Finally, after months of rehearsals, shooting, and re-shooting, the movie was done. The heavy weight on your chest lifted as you realized you were finally going home after what felt like an eternity. Nolan threw a party to thank everyone for their hard work, but let's just say you were eager to leave without being rude.

You were chatting with John David Washington and D’Arcy Carden about future projects.

Any plans now that the movie's wrapped up?”, John asked you as he took a sip of whiskey.

“I get to go home for a bit and then it's press tour time for MI,” you said excitedly.

“Oh God, press tours can be so monotonous, day in and day out, answering the same questions just in different ways.” D’Arcy sympathised.

“What could be so draining D’Arcy?” Nolan asked as he joined you along with a few other of your cast mates, including the one and only diva Cillian. You stiffened but were relieved by the buffer of people around you.

“We were just discussing what’s next for Y/N, she has a press tour coming up in a few weeks,” D’Arcy explained to the newcomers. Nolan chuckled.

“Yeah, press tours can be exhausting, but I'm still excited. I'm pumped to see Tarzan, Noah, and Zendaya! We've been so caught up with our projects that we haven't talked.” You blurt out cheerfully.

When your cast mates saw you all giddy, their smiles widened except for Cillian’s. He tightened his grip around his beer bottle, furious that you were so excited about meeting up with your friends. He wanted to be at the receiving end of that joy, that excitement, that anticipation.

“I expect the same level of excitement for the press tour for our movie.” John laughed.

“Not the same level, John, at least double the amount of excitement.” Nolan teased you.

“Well, we all have to wait and watch,” D’Arcy added.

“I promise to turn my excite-o-meter and charm to the fullest.” You jokingly promised as you side-hugged John, not noticing a set of clear blue eyes filled with rage.

Wheels were turning in Cillian’s brain. He would not let you slip out so easily, not without a fight. You were his, you just know it yet. And he was going to have to make you see that.

[pinguwrites]

Cillian Murphy & Characters

--- --- ---

𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐲 (𝐫𝐩𝐟)

This is not a reflection of Cillian Murphy's actual life. This is completely separate and is not intended to harm him or his family in any way. DNI if you're a Yvonne hater. This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

⸻ oneshots

Sweet, Little Girl | 1k, dark!reader You're Cillian Murphy's next door neighbor. You're young and innocent, and he's an attractive older man—surely he must be the one taking advantage of you . . . right?

A Daughter's Duty | 1.4k, dark!cillian x stepdaughter!reader You’re stepfather has made a habit of sneaking into your room at night to use you, even when you don’t want it.

A Father and a Lover | 1.1k, dark!stepdaughter!reader Cillian Murphy is trying to be a good dad for you. It proves more difficult than he expected.

⸻ drabbles

You milk Cillian of his babies

Your favorite actor flirts with you

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 (𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬)

Peaky Blinders characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

⸻ oneshots

In The Light of the Moon | 5k, dark!tommy x innocent!reader Having enough of being mistreated by your family, you decide to runaway to the small town of Birmingham. There, you meet the feared gangster, Thomas Shelby, whose intentions with you are less than pure.

To Lend a Hand | 3.2k, sister!reader After catching your brother masturbating, you decide to go to him for help in a matter you've been struggling with — the art of pleasure, and specifically, how to do it for yourself.

⸻ drabbles

Drabble: Tommy takes you from behind

Drabble: Tommy wishes you were his

⸻ series

Black Heart | poc!american!reader, age-gap, slow burn

𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐞 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲)

The Dark Knight Trilogy characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

⸻ oneshots

You Set My Soul Alight | 5k, enemies to lovers You and Jonathan Crane have always been at odds. One day, Crane comes to you with a plea to enticing to resist, and you find this the perfect opportunity to put him in his place.

The Doll’s Burial | 9k, kidnapper!reader

⸻ drabbles

Drabble: yandere!jonathan kidnaps you

𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐥 𝐥𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐬 (𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬)

Watching The Detectives characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

⸻ drabbles

Drabble: you catch your boyfriend Neil eating out his fleshlight

Drabble: dark!neil refuses to pull out

𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐲 (𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬)

Red Lights characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

⸻ oneshots

Our True Nature | 4.4k, psychic!reader Despite your great abilities you've pursued a humble life, looking for others like you. Your search comes to an end when you realize that your professor's assistant, Tom Buckley — the one you've been harboring a secret crush on — is a psychic, just like you.

⸻ drabbles

Drabble: Tom can’t help but breed you

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞)

PHOTO COMING SOON

The Edge of Love characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

⸻ oneshots

Home Is Where the Heart Is | 9k, future!reader You don't think much of the box when it arrives at your front door. That is, until you open it and are transported decades into the past. There, you fall into the arms of a handsome soldier, who is intent on making you stay.

⸻ drabbles

Drabble: William gets needy when he's jealous

Drabble: William fakes a PTSD nightmare

Drabble: dark!william teases and degrades whore!reader in semi-public

𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 (𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧)

Inception characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

⸻ drabbles

Drabble: you degrade and overstimulate Rob

Death Junior (only one fic for now)

Robert Oppenheimer (only one fic for now)

[justrainandcoffee]

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Emmett x OC (Holly)

Arthur Shelby x OC (Rat)

Tommy Shelby x OC (Eleanor)

Tommy Shelby x OC (Lily)

Jack Nelson x OC (Eva)

Alfie Solomons x Reader

Tommy Shelby x OC (Lucy)

May Carleton x Poc!Reader

Cillian Murphy x OC (Marianne)

Tommy Shelby x OC (Nina)

[nsingcat]

wElcOme #rules !

disclaimer: this is completely fiction! what you read here has nothing to do with the real people. don't take anything seriously please.

WRITING:

⊱ i write. female & male reader. NO smut. platonic reader x driver. driver reader. poc reader (most of my fics are mainly targeted for a poc audience as theres not many for us :c). aus (college, streamer/youtuber etc). really anything that isn't in my wont's!

⊱ i won't write. smut idk how many time i'm gonna say that but hey! incest. eating disorders. self harm. rape. scat/piss. age play/ddlg. something that isn't on this list but it still makes me uncomfortable.

⊱ things i write. mainly smaus, head-cannons and oneshots ! maybe a series if it ever gets to that point!

INTERACTING:

⊱ i'm all for new friends!! pls interact it helps me out a lot, keeps me motivated to know people (might) like my works! just please don't be weird if you're older than 18+ as i am in my sophomore year of high school. that would get you an immediate block.

⊱ i will randomly interact with other fandoms/things outside of motorsports and k-pop, like photoshoots, fashion, oscar isaac, cillian murphy, and other things.

© nsingcat, 2024.

[theshelbyclan]

Black History

Summary: I’m not very good with words. That’s the one thing you should know about me, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid

(gif by @nofckingfighting​)

A/N: Anon requested: Firstly, ILYSM💖💖💖💖ur an amazing writer!!!!!!! If u are taking in requests, could you do one where a female of colour is in the garrisons and people are maybe being racist to her and Tommy stands up for her? Something like that? If not it’s totally fine. Love you!! Okay, so I changed it a little. I love writing for any reader of colour and unfortunately, there’s not much fanfic out there for it, but I also really wanted to write about a woman being really into history? And I really wanted to avoid all the cliches... So I combined both ideas. BUT, I’m not black myself, so if anything isn’t correct here or if I got some of the history wrong, please let me know. Hope you like it!  

Words: 2108

 ***

I’m not very good with words. Even though I like stories about people and places, a lot. That’s the one thing you should know about me, that I don’t talk much, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. It just means I’m in my head a lot.

Let me tell you a story: In 1922, Birmingham was sometimes referred to as ‘the Black Country’. It’s because of all the smoke, the soot and the factories, you see. People who worked here were always covered in dirt, just like the houses and the streets: everything in Birmingham had turned black. But to be more precise, the Black Country is a much bigger area, the birthplace of industry, that made Britain wealthy. Just not us. Coal mines and factories, steel mills and brickworks: filth turned to gold for the king. I always think that the name, the Black Country, has a romantic ring to it. But that’s not why we came here. Because even though the streets may be black, none of the people really were. People like me, people of colour, we still stood out like a sore thumb among the others.

“Watch where you’re going, love!” “Sorry,” I mumbled, apologizing to the man I’d walked into, but hardly any sound came from my lips. And with eyes cast down, I hurried along.

As I walked through those streets, I was thinking about all of this. I’ve often been accused of being a dreamer. My father used to tell me I have my head in the clouds too much. But it wasn’t figments of the imagination I was interested in, not really. I like the stories that buildings and streets could tell. I love learning about people who have done great things, who have managed to change something in the world. Needless to say, I like history.

And then I saw my friend, the one who worked with me at the Austin. She called out my name, “Y/N!”

I gave her a small nod, which was more than I’d do for anyone else. More than anything, I hated attracting attention to myself, but she was always so upbeat, so friendly, so for her I made an exception.

She took my arm happily and whispered, “Let’s go get a drink, eh?” “We can’t!” I whispered, a little shocked, “not just us two…” But she looked at me with this twinkle in her beautiful blue eyes, “Oi, Billy! Come with us, yeah? To the Garrison!” I hunched over even more, like I wanted to become completely invisible, at the loudness of her voice. Billy came over almost at once and he practically skipped ahead of us over to the pub.

As I felt the familiar anxiety creep into my bones, I tried to focus on something that felt more safe and more secure. So, let me tell you a little more about this area. Obviously, we’re known for our factories, but did you know Dickens actually wrote about the chimneys! He wrote they “poured out their plague of smoke, obscured the light, and made foul the melancholy air.”It was in his book… “Y/N! Come on,” and she practically dragged me inside the Garrison.

But as soon as we entered, I felt how people didn’t fixate on my loud companions, but on me. And I knew instantly it was all due to the colour of my skin. When I came here with my brother from Jamaica, and after he’d fought as a soldier in the war, we never knew it would be like this. We never would have thought you could feel this lonely in a crowd, all day, every day.

The barman looked as uncomfortable as I felt. He rubbed the back of his head as he tried to decide. Eventually he said, “You can’t drink here.”

“Why?” my friend immediately jumped on him.

“Well…” the barman struggled for a second to find the words, “I can’t serve a woman alone.” She gestured around in a broad manner, “Look around you. She’s not alone, is she?” “I’m sorry, miss…” I had so many things to say, but all that came out was me practically begging my friend, “Let’s just go?”

“No, why can’t she just…” But I already knew why.

And then one man in the back finally said what everyone else was thinking, “He means blacks are not welcome. Go and find your own place to drink!” And I felt my blood turn cold. Here are some interesting facts for you: In 1919, just after the war, the first ‘race riots’ started in England. This started in South Shields and from there, it spread like some virus to the bigger cities where groups of minorities lived. These violent riots, where many died, were aimed at everyone who wasn’t white: Arabs, Asians and blacks, all those who came to this country through the ports. But that’s not all; even in America, the Caribbean and South-Africa that summer race riots erupted. And idiotically enough, they often resulted in the deportation of many immigrants. That year, the English police arrested 155 black men, 80 white men and only nine white women, even though black people were clearly only defending themselves. Still, half of the black men were acquitted during trial, so I suppose we ought to be thankful for that…

My thoughts were rudely interrupted by the stranger who appeared next to me. I noticed the cloud of cigarette smoke before I even saw the man. Then I realised it was Thomas Shelby himself, and I practically flinched.

“What’s the problem, Harry?” he inquired in his deep voice. “This girl. She says she wants a drink, Mr. Shelby…” “Then serve the lady her drink,” he emphasized the word ‘lady’ and if it hadn’t been a Shelby who had spoken the words, I’d be flattered. But I knew I had the ruthless leader of the Peaky Blinders in front of me, so I knew when to be frightened. Then he turned to me, “What would you like to drink?” I opened my mouth to reply, but no words came out. “It’s not up to him,” Thomas Shelby said, “this is our pub. And anyone with good intentions is welcome. So, tell me, and I’ll make sure you get it.” “There really is no need, Mr. Shelby,” I finally managed. For a moment he only looked at me. Then he put out his cigarette, took off his coat and made his way behind the bar. And before the barman or anyone could react, he poured me a gin himself and handed it to me across the bar. I only stared at him. He in turn lit another cigarette and frowned, “I won’t have any kind of prejudice in my pub, you understand? All are equal here.” And his blue eyes seemed to look right through me as he spoke.

Let me tell you about someone my father told me about: Ignatius Sancho. Now his story truly is stranger than fiction. In 1729 he was born on a transatlantic ship used to carry slaves, which was headed to the Spanish colony of New Granada. His mother died shortly after arrival and his father killed himself soon after. When Sancho was two years old, he was taken by the man who claimed to own him and given to three old women in Greenwich. A duke who often visited these women became interested in the boy and his education, and when he was 20 years old, he went to work at the duke’s house, Montagu House, as a butler. During this time, he learned all about music, poetry and literature. After the duke’s death, Sancho inherited some money. Eventually he married this West-Indian woman and became a devoted husband and father. And, not to forget, with the help of the Montagu’s, he opened up his own shop in 1774, which made him a man of independent means, which earned him the right to vote. And so he did, the first black man ever to vote, in 1774 and 1780.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” Only then did I realise he’d made his way to the other side of the bar once again and was now indeed standing next to me. I could smell him, feel him almost, that’s how close he was. I shook my head timidly in reply.

Thomas inhaled slowly and breathed out the smoke, “Good.” Finally, I worked up the courage to say softly, “Neither do you.”

“Nope.” And before I could stop myself, I smiled at him. He returned the smile and pointed at me, squinting his eyes a little, he said, “But you think a lot.” “I suppose so?” “What about?” he asked, and he sounded purely interested, which caught me completely off-guard.

Suddenly, I felt my usual defences dropping, “history,” I confessed.

“History, eh?” he downed his whiskey, “what does a woman like you know about history?” This hurt, so I’m afraid I snapped a little, “A woman like me?” Poor, black and with no education, he meant.

This reminded me of another great man, one who was continually being underestimated as well: James McCune Smith. He was born in 1813 to a mother who was being kept as a slave and his father claimed to be her owner. He grew up with his mother, but when he was 14 years old, he became a free man due to the laws changing in New York. Interestingly enough, because his father was white, he was sometimes classified as white and sometimes as black, depending on the year. Either way, he excelled at school, but still none of the New York universities would accept him because of the colour of his skin. And that’s how he ended up in Glasgow, where he graduated in medicine in 1830. This made him the first Afro-American doctor in America who’d gone to university and he used his knowledge to work for the Colored Orphan Asylum for over 20 years. But I said none of this out loud. After a long silence, Thomas said, “I’ve hurt you.”

“Yes,” I replied meekly. “I apologize.”

I’m afraid I smiled again, “It’s alright. Mr. Shelby” I said. “Tommy.”

Another long silence followed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“So, here’s my confession,” he finally broke the silence, “I’ve been trying to impress you, but you’re a hard woman to get to know. So what does a man have to do, to get a look inside your head, eh?” About a million thoughts went through my head in a split second. I suppose I was expected to say something witty now, something clever and something quick, but I had nothing. The truth was, I wasn’t very witty or clever, especially not around men I hardly knew. So I did what I always do and decided to just be honest, “Why would you want to impress me?” “Why not? You’re the most interesting girl in the room. Everyone else bores me.” And in that moment, I suddenly wished I did know how to flirt. There’s one woman I really look up to, one who has such a different life from mine, but sometimes I pretend I’m her. We are both women of colour after all and born around the same time… Her name is Florence Mills and she’s the Queen of Happiness of the American cabaret. Even though her parents weren’t, she was born a free woman in Washington DC. When she was young, she and her sisters formed a vaudeville act, known as the Mills Sisters. Florence was he only one to continue on as an entertainer. For a while, she was even a part of the Panama Four, you know, the group that Ada ‘Bricktop’ Smith was also a part of, the woman who later owned her very own club in Paris? But that’s a different story entirely… Florence went on to join the Tennessee Ten and eventually gained fame through her part in ‘Shuffle Along’, the first all-black Broadway hit. But she has no plans to stop there. Oh no, she’s now trying to get the evening shows of the Plantation Club, where she and her husband work, on Broadway as well. Imagine being that inventive and creative, and brave too!

“That,” he pointed at me again, with those piercing eyes trying to search my soul, “you did it again.” “Did what?” “The thinking,” he waved a hand, “the fucking disappearing into your head thing.”

“I do do that,” I mumbled with a shy smile. “How about you let me in, eh?” Did I dare to be brave? I did, but I have no idea why. But I finally worked up the courage to make an exception for this intimidating but soft man, and I said, “Have you ever heard of Bessie Coleman?” And just like that, we talked all night. And not a single person bothered or interrupted me again.

 ***

Masterlist