nychandbagsuc-blog

[your-nanas-house]

Hello! I’m sorry about your writer’s block, so here’s a collection of some of my favorite gifs 😏 hope this helps!

Hiii!!! Thank youuuu, sorry if it took me so long to write something based on this. 🥹 You got amazing taste btw....

Just a story...

◇ Pairing: Cillian Murphy X wife!Reader

◇ Warnings: age gap, fanfiction reading, fluff, bit of smut

◇ Summary: Cillian interrupts Y/n's reading of filthy fictions of her husband.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. (The part of the fic Y/n is reading is written like this.)

His lips were pressed against yours, your heads moving slowly to match the sensual rhythm of your shared kiss.

His big hand was holding your cheek still, his fingertips rubbing against your skin as the act of lust continued, increasing in its passion.

You were both on the sofa, your head resting against the soft pillows. Your legs spread: one resting on the back of the sofa and the other hanging calmly. The warmth of your breaths mixed together, your bodies becoming one.

A shiver ran down your spine as his hips moved in circles, rubbing his boner straight against your clothed center.

The room was filled with a melodious, sinful choir of moans and groans. His eyes now piercing yours when his lips parted to whisper out—

"Still on your phone, love?" Your husband's voice interrupted your reading, making you shift your focus completely on him.

Cillian was standing next to his side of the bed, he was already wearing a comfortable pj's, a book in hand. His salt and pepper hair were a bit messy, curling wildly just like his chest hair.

"Hm?" He repeated, when you didn't answer straight away, as he climbed on the bed, making the mattress sink down and meanwhile making you slide closer.

You loved those evening of winter where you would be able to spend time next to your man with little no interruptions. Allowing yourself also to get fully lost into him.

His perfume surrounded you due to the closeness, making your eyes flatter shut. You could only feel the warmth of his body and the soft tickling caused by the teasing of his soft lips.

"Was just reading something our kids made me discover..... You know what fanfiction are?" You murmured out with a breathy tone, speaking between pecks as you allowed your husband's love to fill your senses. You coul tell he was tired by his closed eyes and heavy breath, his body kept moving slowly but lazily before he finally moved under the covers, spooning your body with his

"You will explain it to me tomorrow morning, love. Let's leave the kids out of our bedroom for this evening, hm?"

[xephyras]

' A Second Reflection '

MDNI. 18+ ONLY.

a/n: i fear i possibly cooked with this? idk, i wrote it in like 2 hours. first cillian murphy centric smut kinda goes hard.

btw: that new M. Night Shyalaman movie ‘Trap’ sucks. It's basically slutty Josh Hartnett being a dad with mommy issues and everyone not doing their job.

Second, yes, this is fucking diabolical and will in fact be better because I am amazing at writing darker shit.

Third, yes, this is because I watched Red Eye again on my Roku at 1 a.m in my duplex. (Sorry to my upstairs neighbor if you heard my tv.)

warnings: DUB/NONCON. dead dove do NOT eat, 18+, evil!dom!stalker! jackson rippner and sub! reader. jackson rippner is an actual villain, not bastardized, rough sex, unprotected p in v, breeding kink from rippner, dumbification (once again my weakness), heavy degregation, spit kink, biting kink, just overall really mouthy rippner, major power play kink, size difference if you squint, bruising, hickeys, break in, choking, hair pulling, slapping, mirror kink, blood kink, also, jackson rippner is like lowk pathetic bcz, yk... men whining.

word count: 4.18k

NOT proofread, I apologize in advance for any errors or mistakes!

"Keep your eyes on me, slut. I want to see your face while I fuck you.” He barked out, straining on your hair again as he pulled you up.

Darkness filled the room you sat in comfortably, your dust-covered mirror shimmering softly in the cinnamon candles you had lit a few minutes before. Duvet covered pulled up to your chest, and legs shuffling under with a comfort that always seemed to await you, you felt entirely serene.

The day was as usual boring, mostly spent inside working from home, taking a few calls, and mellowing around in your pajamas. These days seem to muddle together into one big mix, but it was nothing you fret over. It was rather comforting compared to the busy streets which bustled from the early hours of dawn to the peak of the night.

Only thing you would say that pinched wildly at your relaxation like a child on St. Patrick's day seeing a person not wearing green, was the overwhelming feeling of a set of prying eyes on you. However, this had become realtively common since you played that damned mirror in front of your bed.

You commonly had liked to rearrange your room; especially on the late nights where your shitty sleep schedule caught up, giving bursts of energy late at night. Hence, you assumed it was your paranoia playing a hopscotch game with you.

Nevertheless, you found the serenity of your window open, blowing a soft wind in, rather comforting. Leaving the blinds open often to let the orange sunset light in, you simply would stare until it went dark at times. Being on the first floor of your home, too, passerby's were actually much more fun to look at than you realized. ‘People-watching’, as some would call it.

However, in this night specifically, the warm breeze flushing onto your shoulders felt rather omniscient of some warning it communicated. You didn't get it, but something irked you. To deprive yourself of your own time, you simply read a book, traveling your mind into the world of your favorite reads.

Conversely, your brain pried at you. Thinking it was simply a lack of sleep, especially because it was now around a quarter after midnight, you set the hard book down. It was a hot night, you might as well have left your window open. After all, it was a safer neighborhood.

After blowing out the residue of your melted candles, you covered the rest of your body with the duvet. Serenity at last, you thought. Gently shutting your eyes, you simply wandered off mentally.

Despite being a rather heavy sleeper, you woke within a few hours to a sense of hefty paranoia. Your eyes couldn't even adjust at first to the darkness and the heaviness of them. Wiping your tiredness away, you peered into your mirror questionably.

The window you leave open, which usually shines in the dim moonlight, was almost blocked? Almost like a shadow. Slowly turning your head to your window to assume it was just your brain, you suddenly saw.

With your heart and sleepiness practically leaping out of your throat in a stiffled yell, shoved the covers off you, preparing to defend your every move. It wasn't just a fucking dark shadow, an entire, short, but rather wide looking silhouette of a man stood quietly, almost mannequin like, against your window sill.

“What the— What the fuck. What the fuck?!” You suddenly screeched out as loud as your throat could allow, the burning of your vocal chords was anything but sensational.

A deep chuckled emerged from the silhouette, shoulders bouncing somehow in a threatening manner. He held something in a pocket of a sweater, of course.

“You need to calm down before I slit your goddamn throat right here.” He suddenly sneered.

You were absolutely frozen, eyes wide with tears you didn't feel even forming. Hands bundled into fists in front of you futily, shaking like you were about to have a seizure.

He stood entirely still once more, practically observing you like some doctor. You decided haphazardly to stand onto your mattress, trying to get a better advantage of higher ground, more area to attack if he did decide to run at you.

“You— need to get the fuck out! Now!” You screamed at the end, trying to not simply break down sobbing. With purpose, your eyes scanned across your room for some weapon.

“I said calm down!” He suddenly grunted out, stomping with one long stride towards you. His palm latched itself to your ankle, dragging you from your sudden position, your head hitting the wall as you fell onto your spine.

A burning familiar to that of a minor concussion filled your senses, a stiffled sob leaving your throat as your vision filled with a dark white, if even possible. Ringing filled your ears as you felt yourself get dragged practically to lay on your stomach, facing your mirror.

He suddenly muttered almost to no one but himself, “You know, you're fucking pathetic. Can't even hold a good fight. All you do is sit—”

A grunt left his throat as he forced his sweater off, tosing it to the side. “And do absolutely nothing. You're a lazy bitch, you should be grateful I’m doing this.” He whispered into your ear, his stubble tickling along your jaw.

Desperately despite your mingling pain in your brain which seemed to radiate to your neck, you flipped yourself to your side, hands raising to try and fling themselves at him. You simply found his hand, calloused and rough, gripping a lump full of your hair, tangling it into his hand. He shoved your head into the mattress, unable to move.

“Stop fighting me, it's useless, whore.” He cursed out to you, a hint of lingering amusement in his poisoned words.

He certainly was talkative. “God, finally able to touch you after so long. You know, I’ve been waiting for the perfect time to do this.” He chuckled out, his voice was unforgivingly soothing while his hands gripped your head like a vice, and forcing the other to grope, pinch, and slap at your back and ass.

Wanting to have his fun, of course. “You need to do more. You're too… lazy. Maybe I’ll fuck a good baby into you, make you mine.” Sneering his voice next to your jaw, licking suddenly. The mixed smell of his aftershave and mahogany-esque cologne was all you tried to focus on.

Your head was utterly pounding, a slight ring in your eardrums forcuing yourself to feel even more of a head ache. Along with his snagging hand forcing you to the bed, and other groping you grotesquely, all you felt was utter pain and despair.

With as much energy as you could have put, you screamed out. Surely someone in this blasted neighborhood would hear. Screaming your pleas of help, Jackson tugged on your hair tight, snapping your neck back and cutting those yells off with a simple yelp into the air like an injured dog.

He dragged his hand from your lower back to your neck, shaking and wet from your tears which stained where he previously pushed you down. With force, he grabbed your neck tight, cutting your blood, but not air off.

“For someone so fucking lazy, only thing you can do right now is put your vocals to use? I will stab you right here and make it look like a suicide. Do yourself a favor and stop gambling with your life.” He enunciated, using his lips to drag themselves along the surrounding area of your ear.

A choke left your throat as the blood rushed back to your brain, the dazy and numb feeling leaving your pained head. You simply felt yourself get flipped to your back, finally being able to see some of the man's face.

He was unfortunately one of the most handsome men you had seen. A sharp jaw, stubbled beard he kept recently, piercing blue eyes. God, why did he have to be doing this?

“Stop it! I'll give you money! Please just stop!” You rasped out with desperate sobs, feeling yourself tears reach to your collarbones. Your nose was running heavy, and lips soaked with your own drool . You didn't care. You were focused enough the fact this man was in your home, hurting you.

His demeanor seemed suddenly much more gentle, but falsely. Like a lion acting gentle as it slowly prides itself up to its prey. His knees trapped around one of yours, holding you tight. With one of his hands, he held your chin now.

Leaning into your wet and puffy face as he smirked, he finally tantalizingly reached his lips to your jaw. “The more you plead, the harder I’m gonna get, and the longer I’ll use you.”

Finally leaning back, he raised his hand to your cheek and slammed it down, hard. A sound only described as a clap released itself along your bedroom walls, swinging your head to the side. Pain radiated harshly though your cheek, hot and burning.

He chuckled at this and leaned down his lips to your heaving neck, using his hands to stabilize himself on either side of your head. Wanting to have a bit of fun with his food so to speak, he licked. Starting at your collarbone, leading itself up to your jugular with silent breaths.

When he did reach, he bit down harshly, hard enough to draw blood, but not hard enough to severely hurt you. A loud shriek left your throat like some horror movie character, your hands flinging up to pull his hair away and desperately claw.

A pained groan left his throat, but he smiled. Finally getting a better view at his face, teeth slightly pink from your neck and his silky hair feeling like knives in your hands suddenly, you realized couldn't even fight him.

Pausing his actions, he developed a nasty sneer of his face, suddenly spitting a glob at your cheek, grabbing your wrists tight enough you knew it'd bruise. Crashing them down into the bed beside you, he dipped his head down once more to your bleeding neck.

Teeth sank into your skin like marshmallows in an out, ranks of pain radiating from your tailbone all the way to the top of your head like you were in a house fire. All you could hear was the ringing of your blasted ears, his heavy breathing and whines, and the shuffle of the duvet.

“God, you taste so fucking good.” He hummed out, licking up the residues and admiring your skin like some sort of art project he made, one he'd surely put on the fridge.

“You know…” he finally leaned back, resting on his knees which trapped you into his touch.

“I've been watching you for a while—before tonight.” Jackson hummed contently, his raspy whisper leaking itself into your ears like honey.

“Especially because… you don't know when—” he spoke, getting up to close the open window. You knew you should've taken it as a chance, but you were frozen. He adjusted your whimsy curtains above it.

“—when to close your goddamn window. It's been such a joy to watch you, you know that? Every morning, you laying in your bed practically refusing to get up… all the way to laying yourself down, leaving it open to feel the breeze.” He chuckled finally at his last words, almost as if to nonverbally stupidly you.

Your head was pounding, the previously persistent ringing now dying down to a simple static noise, deep in your brain. Choked sobs left your throat, your chest heaving with every breath. Barely even being able to see due to the cloudiness of your wet tears, you blinked frantically.

“My boyfriend will be home so—” you attempted to sneer out, getting cut off with a vocal scoff.

“You need to learn how to stop lying, baby.”

Almost as if tantalizing your stupid word choice, he grazed his fingertips up and down your torso, riding your tank top up slightly with every stroke. His breath—you noticed—was heavier, his chest rising and falling every movement.

With a solid hiss, he forced your tank top off you, to which of course to his not-so-very-big-suprise, revealing your bare chest. After watching you for a while, he noticed you would most of the time wear either nothing, or a tank top, maybe paired with some underwear, usually black or navy. Rare occasions, maroon.

A deep chuckle poured out his throat as his rough hands went to your breasts, cupping and kneading them like dough. It hurt, clearly because he had no intent of making you even feel anything. He just craved you like a wolf craved a little sheep. Cries of pain left your throat, trying to claw your hands at his to no avail.

Your hips and legs wouldn't budge as he sat right on them, your head hurt too much to move, your arms like noodles from the sheer anxiety and shock you felt. To this, he laughed in a false-lit pity. Pinching at your nipples, he made sure to leave you as sensitive as possible, with intent to make you cry even more.

Exult filled his icy eyes as his hands dragged themselves down your belly, massaging your sides and hips like fresh bread. It tickled, somehow—the way he moved his hands now around the waistband of your underwear.

They were a deep navy blue, however looked black in this dark room. Shakily exhaling, Jackson dipped his fingers across the line of your clothing, before quickly pulling them clean off, the fabric resting on your shaking legs.

Another shrill howl left your raspy throat, trying to wriggle your hips out of his body weight. He bellowed back quietly in mock, anger mustering his tone. Another hard, cranial slap landed on the side of your head.

“Shut the fuck up.” He berated now; amusement present.

“I’ve always dreamed of this… even nights I didn't sleep.” he cooed out, coaxing one of your hands to his crotch.

You sneered out a messy cry as he pressed your hand to his tented pants, feeling his cock practically throbbing. His breath left his lips shakily as he forced your hand to feel him. Conversely, he kept his hand tight on your hips, not covered finally.

Finally smacking your hand back, he shimmied off the pants he had on after unbuttoning them. He didn't care to pull them all the way down, why not make it a quickie—you know?

“You look like such a whore right now…” he cooed out almost an octave higher, those threatening eyes gazing daggers at you.

An idea suddenly formed in his head as he looked up to himself in the mirror across from your bed. A toothy smile like a sharks spread across his jaw. Piercing his eyes back down, he grunted, flipping you into your stomach once more.

“I want you to see your stupid fucking face while I use you.” he blazed out, sharply snapping your head up by a chunk of your hair.

Your face was a mess. Puffy red eyes, red nose and cheeeks. Entirely wet with tears and snot. Not to mention, you looked absolutely devastated, which was expected, but not this bad.

A choked wail left your throat as you heard his pants shimmy down slightly, and felt his boxers, and clothed cock resting against your pussy. In response, he cooed under his breath. His hand pressed harshly into your lower back.

“It's a shame I haven't done this sooner, you cry like a fucking animal… it's so beautiful.” He mewled out to your face in the mirror rather than looking down at you.

Tearing down his boxers finally, you could hear his cock spring free and tap lightly on his stomach. He was of course hard, more than he had ever felt in a while. hence the fact he'd get off almost nightly thinking of you. Fucking into his fist with throaty groans, imagining it was your cunt instead.

A hearty sigh left his chest as he stroked himself a few times, the precum on his tip shining in the dim moonlight which simmered through the window. He made sure he was slow with his movements, not wanting to end this too fast.

“Keep your eyes on me, slut. I want to see your face while I fuck you.” He barked out once more, straining on your hair again as he pulled you up.

You let out a few whiny sobs, knowing you couldn't get out of this situation. Your scalp burnt. Gazing your eyes up to his face, you saw nothing but lust, and focus. The worst part was you knew he could get away with it.

“Please no— no, no, no, no!” You babbled out with purpose.l

"No, no, no, don't do this!” he mocked an octave higher, looking down to his leaking cock.

“Just sit still, you'll be fine, bitch.” He scoffed.

Lining himself up to you, he spat down on his cock, stroking himself a few more times to give less friction while he fucked you. Emitting a slight grunt, he finally leaned himself into your pussy, feeling your walls and savoring every inch he dove in.

A loud wail left your mouth, you felt like you were practically being split into 2 as he finally bottomed out. His cock was big enough to press hard against your cervix, the feeling was uncomfortable. Desperately, you tried to wriggle your hips off; nevertheless, he held your hips tight.

“I said be still, dumbass.” He hissed out, landing a loud spank on your ass, surely leaving it red.

“God, you feel so—” he enunciated his words, thrusting sharply into you. “So… fucking tight.” He finished his words, chuckling in the air at the end.

Placing his other hand on your hip and holding you steady, he started a rhythmic pace, slow and drawn out. Despite the slowness, he practically pounded into you as hard as he could, savoring your small cries with each stroke.

Craning his neck back to the ceiling, he gently shut his eyes and let his jaw fall open, babbling on in pleasure. A small curse left his lips, his eyes dipping back down to your ass which shook slightly with each thrust.

“Fuck… oh my God, you feel so good. You feel—” he enunciated his words more, sharply picking up the pace, the feeling of the tip of his cock hitting the bump of your cervix was intoxicating to him.

The pain was slightly settling down as he kept thrusting into you, your body naturally making yourself wet to lessen the friction. Almost shamefully, you couldn't lie and say it didn't feel good.

If anything, it felt phenomenal. After that pain settled, the feeling of his cock driving into you so deep—deeper than you'd ever felt—was shamefully pleasureful. Despite head still throbbing with his hand tight in it, and the fact you're still a sobbing mess, you couldn't help but whine out in this twisted pleasure.

You were ashamed, but it was better than feeling any sort of pain. To the sounds of your little cries turning into whimpers of pleasure, he laughed heartily, spanking your ass once more just to watch it shake.

“See? Now that you're being obedient, I don't have to hurt you anymore, bitch.” He leaned down, tantalizingly whispering.

As he kept his head next to yours, you couldn't help hear his heavy breath and the slight mewls leaving his throat, deep and pathetic, almost. From your hips, he ran his hands down to the small of your back, pressing your arch further down .

Darting out his tongue, he licked your jaw slightly, reminicsing his gaze over your bruised bite marks that finally stopped bleeding. Landing his tongue on your jugular once more, he planted rather soft kisses. Much better than biting, anyways.

He continued to kiss around the back of your neck and the sides, the stubble tickling you. The mix of this ticklish feeling and his hips pistoning into yours finally started to postpone your crying, leaving you in a whiny state.

“God, you really are a whore, huh? Getting fucking used and you're over here whining like a little puppy.” He slammed his hand down once more, making you yell loudly.

Grazing your eyes to the mirror, the sight you saw was definitely one you'll remember, both for the horrifying reason and one of the fact this man looked utterly pathetic for you. Higher sounding breaths, head dipped to the back of your neck with kisses, and hands kneading our ass.

His eyes pierced up to the mirror, making eye contact with your still wet and puffy eyes. Smirking softly at you, he turned his head from the mirror to the side of your face. Linking his lips with your earlobe, he started speaking.

“See how slutty you look right now? You love this…” he spoke in such a tantalizing way it made you shudder.

You could barely even keep your head up, resting it on the plush mattress as you kept letting you your small moans. Each thrust was pure and plain pleasure. Shockwaves sent up your spine and fogging up your brain.

It could've been the mix of anxiety and your head hitting the wall earlier, but you could barely do anything but moan out in bliss mixed with agony. He leaned back up, flicking his hair back with a jerk of his neck.

The idea popped in his head to reach his hand down finally under your hips, keeping one on your ass to hold you steady. Delicately, he rubbed slow, intricate circles with his index on your clit. Back arching further down with pleasure, you let out an almost pornographic moan.

“Oh, you like that…” he cooed rhetorically, cocking his head to the side as he observed your reaction almost clinically.

His hands moved almost masterfully on your clit, the nerves sending an overwhelming pleasure over your entire body. Your legs shook diabolically, toes curling. Trying your best to stifle how good it felt, you bit down harshly on your lip, feeling your lower stomach arise with a familiar feeling of pleasure.

A sudden, quiet moan left the bottom of his throat, an octave higher than any of the words he'd spoken to you. He even sounded hot, and it tormented you. You could tell he was close to cumming by the way his hips stuttered slightly, how vocal he was getting.

“Fuck… I didn't expect you to feel so— so good." he whined out, dipping down his head, holding your ass tight as he probably could've. It hurt, but not as bad as being bitten or slapped.

He quickly leaned his head back to the ceiling, mouth agape with small whines leaving his throat. With his hand still on your clit, you could actually feel yourself getting closer. The way he looked in the dark in that mirror was somewhat driving you crazy. Yet, you dared not look at yourself, feeling a shame that you think will never be cured.

“Oh— God… fuck, fuck, fuck,” he babbled out incoherently, suddenly burying his hips into you as deep as he could've gotten, dipping his torso down to bite harshly on your shoulder.

Somehow that was the tipping point for you, feeling that bite and his warm spurts of cum burst into you, foreign and good. Feeling your brain go numb and your mouth agape, your legs trembled heavily.

With that, a loud and drawn out whine left your puffy lips, your hands gripping the duvet sheets as tight as they could. He stood still besides the feeling of his cock still twitching inside of you.

His chest heaved heavily, pressing against your back tight as he popped his hips into you a few more times, just to fuck his cum into you. Leaning back up with a shaky groan, he examined the damage he did to you.

Bruised ass and hips, bites all over your shoulder and neck, slight blood, your crying face in the mirror, and despite all that: he made you cum. He was actually rather proud of himself for that, even though he swore he would just kill you after.

Biting his lip and pulling his cock out of you, stuffing himself inside his boxers once more, he began to speak.

“You're pathetic.” He hissed.

Buttoning his pants back up, he tore himself off that bed, leaving you alone in it. Picking up that sweater from off the floor and the knife he had stuffed in it, he examined you once more. He darted his eyes from the shiny knife to your body, shaky and limp, yet still crying.

“Can't even move now, huh? I dumbed you down real good…” he stepped over you, dragging the knife up and down your spine, watching the goosebumps it gave you.

“Too bad I can't kill you. Your cunt feels to good.” He whispered to your ear.

With that, he stuffed the knife back in his pocket and swung your bedroom door open. He would of course rather just leave through the front door. Turning back to your body, he chuckled.

“I’d prefer you leave your front door unlocked rather than your window.”

another a/n: i deeply apologize for how nasty this is! enjoy and take dark smut crumbs, my fellow jackson rippner lovers.

[letstalkshipping]

Do you guys also feel a bit weird about Cillian Murphy photoshoots?

I mean, I enjoy looking at some of the photoshoot sets he has done, because they are either beautiful or creative, but for the most part, I would much rather look at screenshots from films he has acted in or gifs of him during interviews and things.

I still remember the first thing that really set me onto Cillian and his work and it was the quote (I think Emily Blunt says) about Cillian saying that "he is the best actor, but the worst celebrity."

Photoshoots are such a celebrity thing and Cillian isn't a good celebrity, nor would I (we) ever want him to be. That's who he is and we are proud of it for him.

[price-is-dreamy]

[storiesforallfandoms]

moved on ~ thomas shelby;peaky blinders

word count: 2213

request?: no

description: in which his ex comes back after two years, and his fiancée is worried about what this means for their engagement

pairing: thomas shelby x female!reader

warnings: swearing, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

Tommy didn't expect to fall in love after Grace had ran off. He had loved her more than he loved anyone, and he thought he'd never find that love again.

Until he met (Y/N).

They met at an event Tommy had to attend. He only went to make an appearance, and was looking for a way to leave when he spotted her. Right away, he was taken by her. He spent the rest of the night talking to her, and even drove her home at the end of the night.

Within two months, Tommy had proposed. He couldn't risk losing this one. She made him feel even better than he had with Grace. (Y/N) was the one, he was sure of it. So, he asked her to marry him, and he was beyond ecstatic when she said yes.

Everything was perfect, until the day Tommy took (Y/N) to the races.

It was a scorching hot day in Birmingham. Tommy and his brothers were set to go to the races, and obviously he had asked (Y/N) to come with them. She was wearing a summer dress that Tommy had bought for her and, as he had predicted, she looked breathtaking in it. He couldn't keep his eyes - or his hands - off of her.

"You're going to cause a scandal," (Y/N) teased as Tommy's hand made its way under her dress again.

"No one's looking, love," Tommy assured her, moving her hair from her shoulder so he could start kissing her neck.

(Y/N) fought the pleasure his actions were giving her to push him away. As good as Tommy made her feel, she was no going to let him have his way with her in public.

"Can you get me something to drink?" she asked. "I'm parched, and quite hot."

"Of course, darling."

Tommy gave her a quick peck before going to find a concessions stand.

He was waiting for their drinks when a familiar voice said, "Tommy?"

He thought he imagined it, but he realized that couldn't be it. He hadn't even thought of her in years. There's no way he would suddenly be imagining her again. So, he allowed himself to turn, and there she was.

Grace.

Just as beautiful as the day she left him.

"I didn't expect to see you here," she said.

"I didn't expect to see you anywhere," Tommy responded. "I thought you fell off the face of the Earth. Since I never heard from you and all."

A flash of guilt showed on Grace's face. It made Tommy happy to know she felt guilty for what she did.

"I can't apologize enough - "

"No, you can't," Tommy said. He was finally given his drinks. He took them and began to walk away from her.

"Wait!" She took hold of his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Please, let me explain. I'll tell you everything."

Tommy looked down at her hand. It was hard to miss the diamond ring on her ring finger.

"Will your husband be okay with that?"

She seemed to bristle a little at the comment, but she managed to keep her composure. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind me catching up with an old friend."

Tommy held his tongue from correcting her. He wanted to know the truth about what happened with Grace. Even if that's all their meeting was - which it would be - then it could at least be some closure for him. He agreed to Grace's proposal, but only under the condition that she meet him at the Garrison. He needed to have some sort of control in this situation.

It was only as Tommy was walking back to his seat that he realized he hadn't told Grace he was engaged. In fact, he had completely forgotten about (Y/N) for those few moments.

She was still in her seat wen he got back, eagerly watching the current race. The moment he laid his eyes on her, Tommy felt his heart swell. He realized that he felt nothing but contempt for Grace. He wasn't eager for their meeting at the Garrison as he would've been nearly two years ago. It was nothing more than a business meeting to him now, because his heart belonged to one woman.

(Y/N) looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. "You've been gone for some time. Did you get lost?"

He smiled back. Instead of responding, he sat with her and kissed her cheek. (Y/N) giggled and leaned into him.

Tommy thought about telling (Y/N) about Grace, but he wasn't sure how to. He didn't want her to get upset over Grace's appearance, and their agreement of a private meeting, but he knew there was no way to bring it up without (Y/N) getting upset. He couldn't blame her either. If the roles were reversed and one of (Y/N)'s exes were trying to reconnect with her...well, that person wouldn't be around much longer.

(Y/N) looked up at Tommy and nudged him. "Are you alright? You look deep in thought."

"I saw Grace," he blurted.

"Grace? Like...the Grace?" Tommy nodded. "When? Just then?" He nodded again. "Oh, wow. What did she say?"

"She asked if we could meet up to talk about her leaving."

"What did you say?"

"I told her we could meet at the Garrison."

(Y/N) nodded, her face unreadable. "When?"

"Tomorrow night."

"And...did you tell her about me?"

Tommy was silent. He couldn't lie to her, and his silence was enough of an answer. She turned away from him to focus on the race again. She felt so many emotions that she couldn't even place them. She knew Tommy loved her, and she knew he was loyal, but she was also aware of Tommy and Grace's past. He told her everything about their relationship when they first got together. So she knew how intense Tommy and Grace's relationship had been, and how broken he was when she left.

Tommy reached over and put his hand on her leg. "Love, look at me."

(Y/N) reluctantly turned to face her fiance.

"I will call the meeting off if it makes you uncomfortable," he said. "Or you can come and be there when it happens."

She shook her head. "No, I think that will likely make it more awkward."

Tommy cupped her face. "Do you trust me?"

"My mind is screaming that I shouldn't, but my heart says I do." She chuckled and added, "That sounded so cheesy."

"It did," Tommy agreed. He pulled her towards him to place a kiss on her lips. "I promise this is nothing more than a meeting to get some closure. Any love I felt for Grace disappeared when she did. You are the only woman who has my heart, and that will never change."

(Y/N) smiled and leaned into Tommy. "I believe you. Just...tell her about me the moment she shows up, okay?"

"I will, love."

~~~~~~

The next night, (Y/N) was pacing her and Tommy's shared living room. Tommy had left for his meeting with Grace moments ago. He had kissed her and told her he wouldn't be long, and she had smiled at him but didn't speak. Once he was gone, she had stood and immediately began to walk around the house. Her nerves were making it impossible to be still.

She told Tommy she had trusted him, and that wasn't a lie, but she couldn't help the gnawing feeling of unease and jealousy. It was a cliche to say, but it was Grace she didn't trust. She didn't know Grace besides what Tommy had told her about their previous relationship, and the fact that Grace was now married. But would that be enough to stop Grace from wanting to make a move on Tommy? Would Tommy's engagement be enough?

Her mind would not rest. She was starting to regret telling Tommy she wasn't going to accompany him to the meeting. Even if it would've been awkward, at least her mind would've been at ease.

Before she could register what she was doing, (Y/N) was pulling on a coat and heading out the door. She started walking towards the Garrison. She knew it was a bad idea to just drop in on Tommy and Grace's meeting, but the not knowing was killing her. She couldn't just stay home and wait for Tommy to come back.

It was a slow night at the pub. There were a few men sat along the bar, and three men sat around one table. Harry was wiping down some glassware at the bar when (Y/N) walked in. He regarded her and nodded towards the private room that the Shelby's frequented, signaling that Tommy was still in there. (Y/N) walked towards the room, intending to knock before entering, until she heard a woman's voice on the other side.

"I never meant to hurt you, Tommy. I know I betrayed you, and nothing can ever change that. But you have to know that I did love you - that I do love you. I left Birmingham because I knew it would be better for you if I did, but I never stopped thinking about you."

"What about your husband?" came Tommy's voice.

"I love him, but I'm not in love with him. He has been a marriage of convenience more than anything. He was there, and he had a good job and a good life, and I hadn't hurt him."

There was silence. (Y/N) could only imagine what was happening on the other side of the door. She hadn't missed Grace admitting to still being in love with Tommy, and even if it seemed Tommy had. Or maybe was just ignoring the fact that she said it.

Or maybe he was happy to hear it?

"I've missed you so much, Tommy," came Grace's voice, soft. "I've thought about you every day since I left. I've been hoping for a day where I could see you again, just one more time, and as for you to give me another chance."

(Y/N) could feel her heart breaking. Tears were welling up in her eyes as she backed away from the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Harry looking at her. She wouldn't look directly at him, but she could make out the look of pity on his face. He must've known what was happening in that room, or had some idea anyways.

She was about to leave when she heard Tommy say, "Any chances you had left when you did, Grace."

(Y/N)'s ears perked back up as she moved back towards the door.

"I loved you once, Grace. If you had come back, even after admitting to me your betrayal, I might've taken you back. But I've moved on now. I have found a woman that I love more than anything in this world, and who loves me just as much. There is nothing and no one in this world who could convince me to leave (Y/N), not even you."

There was a silence on the other side. It wasn't until the knob started to turn on the door that (Y/N) realized Grace was leaving. She quickly stumbled away from the door just before it swung open and hit her. She was stood frozen as she looked at Grace - beautiful, blonde, elegant Grace, stood in a crimson red dress and her hair curled. Grace seemed just as shocked to see someone standing on the other side, but swiftly moved around (Y/N) to exit the pub as quickly as possible.

Tommy was sat at the table with a lit cigarette to his mouth. He didn't look surprised to see (Y/N). He took a long drag and blew it out of the corner of his mouth, before motioning with his fingers for (Y/N) to join him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to - "

"How much of it did you hear?" he asked.

"Well, I arrived sometime before her love confession."

"Which one?"

(Y/N) felt an angry heat rise in her face. "There were multiple?"

"There was two. Three, if you count her asking for another chance at the end there."

"Well, in that case I arrived before the second one."

Tommy reached out for his fiancée, gently touching her arm and pulling her to sit next to him.

"So you heard what I said to her, then?" he asked. (Y/N) nodded. "And you know I meant every word."

"Of course I do," she said. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have just shown up like this. I just couldn't settle down at home while I waited for you. I needed to be here."

"I did offer for you to sit in on the meeting." His tone was light and there was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. That's how (Y/N) knew he wasn't being serious, or that he wasn't upset about her appearance.

"I know. I should've taken you up on that," she said. She leaned close to Tommy and kissed his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too, darling. Don't ever think that I don't."

"I won't. I promise."

[brummiereader]

MASTERLIST PART TWO

Unchained Melody (Part Three)

Summary: As an uncomfortable tension settles between you both the next day, Tommy finally musters up enough courage to say what needs to be said, only to be interrupted by a scornful Governess, then two unexpected visitors later that day. But as night descends on Arrow House and your guests return to their homes, your husband tells you of the uncomfortable reality, and turmoil you had left him in as he drowns himself in his most reliable friend, and remedy to numb the pain. Whisky.

Warnings: Language, angst, postpartum depression, mutual pining

Word Count: 5291

Authors note: A quieter chapter before things finally come to a head after an eventful, terrifying day in the next part.

Two days. You had been back for a total of two, full days. Not only had you and Tommy been avoiding the hard discussion that desperately needed to take place, you had learnt that the Governess who was hired to care for your son had also been keeping your husband company. Or to be more accurate, keeping him company in the martial bed you once shared. You didn't think it possible your heart could ache anymore until last night when your eyes landed on Tommy's sheepish gaze staring back at you as you left your son's nursery, and you came face to face with not only his disheveled appearance but his belt shamelessly unbuckled as the Governess sauntered from the dimly lit room they had both left. It didn't take much for you to come to the anguished realisation of what had occurred in your absence as you tormented yourself for the remainder of the evening with images of your husband making love to the woman you felt had replaced you, all while a painful nagging of self- conscious thoughts plagued your sleepless night.

Did she satisfy him better than you ever did? Was her body more attractive to him than yours? Did he...love her? As a barrage of unstoppable questions you had no answers for other than the ones your worried mind could conjure up, you dragged your shaky body timidly down the winding staircase the next morning, every part of you fearing you would break down into a puddle of pitiful tears for the hundredth time once again.

You were weeks, if not days from having enough willpower to return to Arrow House, you'd tell yourself. Whether you truthfully believed it or not, it was the sole dream you held onto, wishfully hoping your husband hadn't forgotten you, praying he and your son would show you mercy if you ever returned to them. How could you have been so selfish to think he would've waited? That he wouldn't have moved on? You thought to yourself as you scrambled to piece together your shattered heart from the embarrassment you felt for being so foolish. Your place in the grand house you once called your home was thoroughly understood. You were now, the other woman.

Smoothing down the front of your dress, you closed your eyes, desperately trying to compose yourself before you entered the dining room and let your true feelings slip.

"Good morning Mrs Shelby, some tea perhaps?" Frances greeted you, stood next to William cutting his toast into smaller, toddler-sized pieces as you entered the room. Mrs Shelby...Was you still? You thought to yourself as you walked to the end of the large mahogany table with Tommy sat at the head, looking at the end of the burning cigarette resting between his fingers, anywhere but you, anywhere that would hide the shame in his eyes and the regret uncomfortably wrapped around his chest.

" Yes, thank you, Frances" you answered quietly as you looked to the seat beside Tommy. Your seat. The seat saved solely for the lady of the house. A simple, once mundane decision as to where to sit suddenly felt like the most cementing finality to your broken marriage. Forgoing the position you once held, you made your way around the table to sit next to your son as Tommy's eyes flew up, darting to the unoccupied chair next to him then back to you, huffing as he stubbed his cigarette out into the glass ashtray. What did he expect? Tommy, the man always a step ahead of everyone else, couldn't fathom that someone couldn't just soldier on like him, ignoring the fragility of such a situation, and have things left unspoken without resolution.

With his tired body relenting to yet another issue that needed to be faced, he slouched into the frame of his seat as he turned his head away, running his hand down his tired features as a headache from guzzling half a bottle of whisky in an attempt to numb his guilt the previous night started to thump furiously across his forehead. He too, hadn't slept.

" William, eat your toast son" Tommy said clearing his throat as he sat up noisily unfolding his newspaper whilst staring at you, trying to garner your attention and have you finally look his way. But with your refusal to do so, a mutual silence descended between you both as you tended to your son and ignored your husband's blatant attempts to show you how unhappy he was with your choice of seats. Was he looking for an argument? Was that what he wanted, a slagging match to tally up who was more in the wrong?

" Some more water for your tea Mam" Frances said as she walked in and placed a floral china teapot in front of you as Tommy looked over his newspaper, stealing another glance before furrowing his brow and returning his eyes to the first line of the business collum he had read, and re-read at least ten times already.

The latest happenings in the world of finance that would normally have him buried deep in thought each morning held little to zero interest as his worries drifted to what you were thinking, occupying every space in his restless mind. Did you think he was still having sex with her? That she had replaced you? That he loved her? Tommy nervously thought to himself as his paper lowered, and he watched your lips graze over the porcelain cup in your hand as a dusting of particles illuminated by the morning sun glittered gracefully around you. Captured once again, Tommy's feelings of melancholy that once shrouded him suddenly subsided and an urgent need for reconciliation swept over him as his fingers inadvertently inched across the freshly laid table cloth closer to your hand.

"Y/N, can we tal..." he said apprehensively as you finally looked up to see the anguish engulfing his tired face when the door flew open and the Governess strode in, quickly causing him to snatch his hand away.

" Frances, tea" she demanded looking to Tommy giving him a smirk as he glared at her, his jaw tightening within seconds at the mere sight of her smug face.

" Staff eat down in the kitchen, unless invited otherwise" Tommy mumbled, lifting his newspaper as the tension that had slowly simmered between you both came thundering back tenfold into a suffocating pressure that was weighing the room down. Fuck, she needed to go. Tommy thought to himself as she sat down beside him without a care, taking your place once again, thinking she had the upper hand in the situation. Her little stunt filled with veiled threats the previous night had Tommy calling up and down the country all morning gathering as much information as he could on who she was, and her own little secrets she wished to keep from seeing the light of day. Brazen enough to make such threats, Tommy was no fool to think she hadn't safeguarded the intel she had acquired on him. And until he had dealt with whoever had been entrusted with said information, be it family or friend, her unwelcome presence in the house would have to be begrudgingly endured.

" Mummy" William smiled up at you with jammy cheeks, and a single toothy smile whilst kicking his legs back and forth, single handily bringing a smile to your face and a distraction from the frosty stare the Governess sat across from you was sending your way.

" Hi sweetheart..." You replied quietly, running your fingers across his plump cheek as a tear settled on your lashes, never tiring from hearing the sweetest of words spoken to you.

" Don't talk with your mouth full William" the governess barked, breaking the tender moment between you both and shocking you out of the one delight you felt you were allowed to enjoy.

" Give it a rest, would you? He's two bloody years old" Tommy snapped back, having had enough of her overbearing, over-controlling attitude towards his son, your son. Why the hell did he even go there, with her? Tommy thought to himself, wondering if it wouldn't be easier to just throw her in the cut.

" More, more, more" William's little voice squeaked as he pointed enthusiastically to the glass dish of strawberry jam in the center of the table as a quiet chuckle left Tommy's lips and a smile graced your own at his sheer determination, and the learnt knowledge of his sweet tooth he could have only inherited from one person.Tommy.

Reaching for the jam, you pulled it towards you when a hand suddenly grabbed the opposite end, sharply pulling it back into the middle of the table.

" Do you want him bouncing of the walls, hm? Did you eat a lot of sugar when you nursed him? That certainly explains a lot" The governess peered down at you, not giving you an opportunity to reply before coming to her own judgment as you recalled into the back of your seat and a sudden surge of self-doubt engulfed your stomach, your ability to be a mother suddenly brought into question over something so meaningless as a second serving of jam. As your eyes cast down at the cold cup of tea in front of you, every interaction you had had with your son since your return had the feelings of inadequacy that once darkened your mind seep rapidly back into your fragile thoughts.

As you shrank into yourself, numb of William pulling at the sleeve of your dress while the Governess continued her barrage of unwarranted parenting knowledge, Tommy watched as your tearful eyes looked up at him, pulling at his heart until he could no longer withstand the torment of seeing you look so vulnerable. Throwing his newspaper onto the empty plate in front of him, Tommy abruptly stood up, glaring at the Governess as his teeth grounded down onto eachother. Her overstepping into the role you solely held as William's mother getting on his last, and final nerve.

" It's just fucking jam!" Tommy's voice rose, reaching over the table placing the small bowl in front of William as the Governess lips pursed together, and she folded her arms in annoyance that her lecture had gone ignored. "Enjoy my boy" Tommy said walking behind your son, placing a tender kiss to the crown of his head as he looked to you before swiftly leaving the room with some urgent calls to be made, and preferably an anchor and rope to be ordered.

" Well..." The governess scoffed as her eyes darted from the slamming of the dining room door to you, glaring at you up and down. "You certainly have soured his mood. And to think he was finally starting to enjoy life again" she commented as her fingers curled around the cup in her hand, sowing yet another dousing of blame into your troubled mind. Was she right? Had your unexpected return thrown Tommy's apparent newly founded happiness into chaos?

Sat at the living room bay window with a book resting in your hands you had little to no interest in, your eyes darted up from the pages to see your husband outside patting down one of his newest race horses on the freshly pruned grass. Tommy always had been stubborn about anything that would show the slightest ounce of vulnerability in him. So to see him occupying himself with a four-legged creature rather than any two-legged human that could neither, answer back, nor confront him came as no surprise.

Returning to the pages of your book, Tommy, who had chosen the most unusual of spots to inspect his horse, that just so happened to be in viewing distance of you, couldn't help but glance up every other second to get a quick glimpse of you all while internally berating himself for acting like some nervous teen boy psyching himself up to talk to his crush. With a heavy sigh leaving his throat, Tommy looked your way, throwing his cigarette onto the grass with determination to have his thoughts settled once and for all, and finally discuss what needed to be said. But just as you looked up to see Tommy striding towards you, his mustered up courage to have the conversation he had been avoiding took another blow as a car screeched around the corner, interrupting him once again.

" Where is she Tommy?" Polly demanded to know as Esme slammed the car door behind her and they both marched up to the house without the slightest of greetings to him.

" Fuck sake" he mumbled under his breath pointing to the house as you abruptly stood up, bracing yourself for what was to come while your eyes darted to your husband leading his horse away and the living room door seconds away from being thrown open.

" Esme..would you..bloody hell..." Polly grunted, as they pushed past one another through the door frame, when the Lee girl slipped through first and came running up to you. Stepping back your eyes widened, readying yourself for the inevitable, only to be quickly welcomed into a tight hug.

" Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" She said, wrapping her arms around you as your body relaxed into hers and tears began to streak your face.

" Es, I...I don't know. I'm so sorry" you cried as she cupped your cheeks, brushing your tears away with her thumbs whilst you internally scolded yourself for not opening up to the friend that had become a sister, and most cherished supporting hand throughout your pregnancy and labour.

" I would have come with you. God knows I need a bloody break" she stifled her tears with a laugh, pulling you back into her arms as you reached your hand out for Polly who was stood behind her, her trembling hands hovering over the smile beaming across her face.

" I told him, I told you all" Polly said with tears welling in her eyes as she pulled you into a hug, stroking the hair away from your face as you cried into her shoulder. " I checked, I made sure" she said closing her eyes as she clutched the black Madonna around her neck, silently thanking her ancestor's guidance. " Look at you" she said cupping your face as she pressed a longing kiss to your forehead, relief sweeping over her that you was still in one piece. "Come let's sit, before we all lose our footing" she said sniffing back her tears as she linked her arm into yours and led you to the two large cushioned sofas in the middle of the room.

" Where's William?" Esme asked as she looked around the grand sitting area only to see his toys scattered along the floor.

" With the Governess" you said, diverting your eyes as Polly shot Esme a sharp look, or rather, a warning.

" ABCs and 123s, he's two years old for god's sake. Should be out with the horses, in the mud and the meadows, not stuck between four walls. Never did me any harm" Esme huffed as she let her tired body and aching back from another baby weighing down her stomach fall into the feathered stuffed sofa. "What was Tommy thinking hiring that witch?"

" Esme!" Polly warned her as she looked back to you with a tight smile, holding your hand within her own. "Tommy hasn't been in his right mind for a long time"

" It's ok, I know they're together" you said biting, your bottom lip as you looked to the mantel place. Your pictures with him still sitting there neatly one by one. Memories stuck in a flash of a moment, cruelly tormenting you for what you had given up, and what you desperately longed for once again.

" Together? Whoever told you that?" Polly asked, furrowing her brow. " Love, as crude as it is, Tommy... Well I don't think there was ever any feelin..."

" It's ok Polly, It really is" you said cutting her off, trying to reassure yourself and subsequently avoid any further discussion on the topic that had consumed all your thoughts of late. " I burst their happy little bubble"

"Don't think the crate of whisky he has my John bring to his office door once a week, like some bloody delivery boy would agree with you" Esme said less than tactfully as Polly's head snapped to her. "What?" She said bewildered as to why Polly's eyes were suddenly boring into her very soul.

"Esme, why don't you go get us something to eat? Biscuits perhaps" Polly said as your sister-in-law furrowed her brow, crossing her arms.

" Biscuits?" Esme asked frowning, like it was the most bizarre, most confusing of questions to ask someone.

" Yes, bloody biscuits. And a bottle of whisky" she said as Esme stood up with a huff. "The good stuff, he keeps hidden in his office cabinet!" Polly called out as Esme waved her hand above her head mumbling to herself before shutting the door.

" Oh love" Polly said, moving her attention back to you with a heavy look of worry as she stared into your eyes, only sadness and shame to be found in them. "Why didn't you come to me?"

" I was scared you'd judge me Polly, that I couldn't cope when every other woman around me makes it look so easy" you sobbed as she pulled you into your arms.

" God knows there were moments when I wanted to run from it all, Esme too. The only difference between us is, you battled through when we buckled. You didn't have to love, we were here for you. We would have held you up" she said, holding you In front of her as she dabbed your tears from your cheeks. " Your pain is my pain. I would have walked the lonely path of motherhood with you, holding your hand all the way" she finished, cupping your cheeks when Esme walked in with a large cake on a polished silver tray, and one of the finest bottles of whisky Tommy possessed tucked safely under her arm.

" No biscuits, but I found another one of these fucking cakes again" Esme huffed from holding the heavy monstrosity in her hands.

" Give me the knife " Polly demanded with her hand out, her brow raised as she waited.

" Don't think I'm capable of cutting a bloody cake, Polly?"

"Esme" Polly's eyes narrowed in, their once mutual disdain for each other now a daily power play of Polly trying to assert herself over her nephews wild hearted wife.

"Shelby's. Stubborn, the lot of you" she said handing the knife over as she sent you a quick smile." So, you and Tommy had it out yet? " Esme asked, curious as to where you both stood with each other now you had returned.

"I think he tried to. At one point" you replied, recalling the brief moment in the dining room before the Governess barged in, interrupting his chances. " He won't forgive me, I know he wont"

" You focus on little William for now, Tommy can wait. It may do him so good to mull things over, before he says something pigheaded " Polly said handing you slice of cake. She and Esme may bash heads on many things, but the inherited trait of stubbornness was something she couldn't deny. And unfortunately for you, Tommy's headstrong, unyielding nature was the vain of the whole family's existence.

" I can't stomach anymore of it" Esme said, refusing her plate as she made a beeline for the whisky instead.

" God, me neither" Polly agreed, dropping the knife as she took Esme's glass tumbler from her.

" Why, what's wrong with it?" You asked inspecting it, noting it's familiarity to the cake you would often bake.

" Oh, you didn't know?" Polly smiled as she sat back in her chair, her eyes playfully glimmering from the amber liquid bouncing off the sides of the crystal glass in her hand " Every Saturday Tommy insists on that bloody fruit cake you used to bake that weighed more than a newborn baby on being made. He sends that poor old cook up and down the country in search of the ingredient Tommy insists is missing"

" He hated my fruit cake" you chuckled, looking down at the plate in your hand as the memory of happier times when you had become adamant on perfecting your baking skills before the birth of William on a reluctant Tommy flooded your thoughts.

"He still does. But it was a little part of you he couldn't part with" she winked at you as she poured herself another glass of whisky. " I'm starting to think he just enjoys watching the torment on Mr Giles face as the kitchen staff gather around to hear his weekly verdict every Saturday evening" Polly laughed into her drink at her nephews dry sense of fun, and the growing stockpile of cake enough to build a small house stored in the pantry." Why don't you bake him one?"

" Polly, I don't think a cake will fix this" you sighed, casting your eyes down to your lap when she cupped the side of your cheek, turning it to face her glistening hazel eyes.

"No. But it might make him smile. And that would be a sight"

As you said your goodbyes to Polly and Esme out in the grand foyer, grateful for the afternoon you had spent with them and their comforting words, Tommy stood watching by the front door, a pang of jealousy settling in his chest at everyone's ease with you like no time had passed, and mounting frustration with himself that he couldn't do the same.

" All is forgotten then, eh?" Tommy said in passing as the sound of the front door closed, his spite quickly finding a way to weave itself back into the iron cast wall he had slowly let down as he sulked off to his office once again, leaving you with his dampened mood for a fresh crate of whisky waiting for him.

One and a half years ago...

" Tommy this has to stop" Polly said, hovering over his desk, her nephew's head buried deep in a stack of maps, newspaper clippings and letters.

" Not now, Pol" Tommy replied, stubbing his cigarette out before returning to the large plan of Birmingham's canal system on his desk. Wide-eyed and restless. Polly was certain he hadn't slept in days, if not weeks.

" Enough Tommy!" She shouted, trying to snap him out of his madness as she snatched the large map away from him, her eyes pleading with him to give up, to rest.

" I will not fucking stop! Do you hear me?! I will not stop until her body is found!" He bellowed, pointing his finger into the desk as tears welled in his eyes and his face reddened with fury. "Just leave Polly...Go" he sighed, pinching the skin between his brows, his tired body unable to keep up with another argument with his Aunt, and his relentless search for you.

" There's no body to be found Thomas" Polly said as he walked around his desk grabbing the map from her hands before dropping into the sofa and pouring himself not a finger, not even two, but a whole glass of whisky. " Enough!" She said, marching over to him, throwing the remainder of the bottles contents into the fire place before crouching down in front of him. " You can't dull it forever Tommy. You have to listen to me, she's not passed over"

" Polly Stop" Tommy replied, burying his hands into his hair, scrapping his nails along his scalp at the stress tightening around his skull.

" You won't find anything"

" Polly stop, stop STOP!" Tommy's voice crescendoed until a sob of cries left his lips and his shoulders slouched over his body, drained of any rational thought left. " She's dead Pol" Tommy said looking up to his Aunt with an empty, lifeless stare as his hands fell down onto his thighs. Drunk, beaten down and hollow. Tommy had not an ounce of will to carry on. The second half of him was gone, and if it wasn't for William, he would have gladly welcomed the sweet release of death and joined you if it had brought him peace, and you back into his arms. "She's fucking dead..."

As you rummaged through the kitchen cabinets in search of a bottle of brandy you were certain was the missing ingredient from your fruit cake Tommy had ordered Mr Giles to bake every weekend in your absence, a loud crash quickly followed by your husband shouting every blasphemy known to man had you jumping away from the cupboards, and your own choice of profanities quickly leaving your lips.

" Shit!" you heard Tommy mumble as you slowly approached his office door to see him steadying himself with one hand on his desk as he poured the remaining contents of a bottle of whisky into a glass while blood dripped from an open cut on his hand. " What the fuck you looking at, eh?" Tommy said stumbling back and forth as he pointed at the large portrait of himself hung in his office. "Dickhead"

Just go to bed Tommy. You silently pleaded, watching him ease himself into his leather chair as he buried his head in his hand, replaying every moment from the day you had left to every hour he would spend trying to find your body over and over again in his head, letting his emotions fester inside, clinging onto them in an attempt to change their outcome. Watching him reach for another bottle of whisky, you opened the door and walked in, fearing he would drink until he passed out.

" Is everything ok? I heard a noise" You said, looking around his usually immaculate office stacked with paperwork and broken furniture.

" Fucking fantastic sweetheart " Tommy replied, trying to unscrew the cap of the bottle as you carefully walked around a smashed lamp on the ground you could only assume got in his way. " Fuck..." Tommy sighed, his injured hand rendering his attempts to open the large whisky bottle useless. Removing the satin belt around your dressing gown, you took his hand, gently wrapping the soft fabric around the deep gash across his knuckles as Tommy watched on in silence, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as your delicate touch stirred his unwanted emotions once again.

" There" you said letting go, waiting for him to say something, anything to break the palpable silence that had descended between you both as his eyes roamed down your body, and he opened mouth to say something pigheaded, exactly as his Aunt had predicted had he not been left alone to wallow in his own self pity.

" Do you wanna fuck?"

" Jesus Christ...get some sleep Tommy" you sighed, shaking your head as you turned for the door. He had every right to be angry at you, but this, this you didn't have to deal with. A drunken Tommy was an unreasonable man, and you now regrettably wished you had let him drink himself to sleep, and pass out on the floor.

" No? Thought it would stop me from hating you so much" he stated coldly as you came to a stop, his words piercing you as deep as he had intended them to.

" You already have someone that's been keeping your bed warm, our bed warm. Don't you Tommy?" You said, unable to keep your bitterness contained any longer as you turned to face him, and he came to face the outcome of his harsh words streaming down your cheeks.

" I shared our bed with nobody Y/N" Tommy pointed to you as he stood up, taking the large map he had mulled over for the past two years from his desk as he walked past you to the fire. There was no lie in his words. Never once had he tarnished the most intimate part of what was left of you. No matter what he had done to dull his grief in the past, every night Tommy would faithfully return to your martial bed unaccompanied, desperately holding onto the memory of your body wrapped warmly in his arms. " I thought you were dead" he said, the vows he had made to stay faithful unknowingly severed, crushing him more than any broken promise he had ever made.

" I know" you sobbed as you slowly approached and stood beside him, welcoming the comforting warmth from the fireplace as you looked into the towering orange flames and crackling wood burning below them.

" Do you know how long I looked for you?" He said, glancing up at you as you shook your head, feeling a surge of nervousness at where the conversation was suddenly going. "One year, six months and twenty two days" he said, throwing the folded document into the fire, watching the hours he had spent mapping each river, each stream and every canal burn into ash.

" Tommy...I'm so sorry. I should never have let you think that I was dead" you apologised, brushing your tears away as Tommy's stare stayed fixed on the last piece of paper melting away.

" Searched every forest, every train track until the only thing that was left was the waters, hoping your body hadn't been swept out to sea" his voice grew louder as his anger began to pump furiously beneath his skin.

" Tommy please..." you pleaded as your eyes welled with tears once again, trying to turn his stiffened frame to face you as his hand tightened around the intricately carved mantel, his knuckles turning opaque from the heat rapidly coursing through his veins.

"Polly put an end to it. Had my men stop me from leaving my own house for weeks on end. My own fucking house!" He continued, slamming his fist into the wood with a strong enough blow to split it, leaving a fractured line running permanently through the middle.

" Tom stop, please!" You begged him, trying to pull him away from the raging flames, from the raging fire within him.

" Enough!" he shouted as his hand came up to strike you when your eyes widened and he stopped himself, stumbling back in horror at the terror on your face. "Fuck!" He bellowed from the depths of his lungs, turning away to the door to hide the tears welling in his eyes and the shame on his face.

" Tommy, It's...it's ok. It's ok" You cried slowly approaching him, your body trembling with each step. " Let's sit down, and talk. Yeh?" Your shaky voice tried to reason with him as your hand brushed gently over his shoulder, coming to rest in the middle of his back.

" Now you want to talk, eh? he said, choking out a stifled breath as he brushed his tears away before turning to face your silent pleas to stay. "I'm afraid..." he sighed, bringing his hand up to stroke along your cheek as your fingers held tightly onto the front of his shirt came up to cup his cheeks, pulling him closer to you. "...I'm afraid you may be too late my darling" Tommy said scrunching his eyes closed as his lips hovered over yours, your sobs intensifying into hopeless cries before he pulled your hands off him and left without another word.

Fear of you leaving him again, fear of never being able to forgive you. Tommy Shelby, the most feared gangster in Birmingham, was in fact a man scared, a man so conflicted with the most vulnerable of feelings he had pushed down to the very depths of his heart for the past two years. Love. His broken heart still madly, still deeply in love with the one and only woman of his life. You.

PART FOUR

Tag List: @garrison-girl-08 @call-sign-shark @red-riding-wood @look-at-the-soul @lau219 @peakyswritings @babaohhhriley @naevisct @galactict3a @satanhauntedmytorment @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @kmc1989 @latorsgatorz @garfieldsladybird @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @henrywintersdearestgirl @goblinjnr (unable to tag) @abaker74 @fuseburner @hummusxx @xvintageghostx (unable to tag) @sagecodm @isabbellagonzalezz88 (unable to tag) @girlwith-thepearlearring @minaxcarter (unable to tag) @cleverzonkwombatsludge @saltburnwhore @outlanderuniverse @anastacia-lynn @sofiblossom @akemiixx01 @thelastemzy @xxbeckybeexx-blog @cyphah @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @kammsinn @nadloves @esquivelbianca @bruher @honeymoon8 @amberpanda99 @outlanderuniverse @whorefortim

[apollosdaydreams]

apollosdaydreams’s masterlist 

Request Guidelines 

Who I Write For

 (Updated 7/17/24) 

Formula 1:

Max Verstappen- 

Promise, In My Heart

Im Sorry I Wasn't Better

Ocean (Incorrect quotes)

Sixteen (Incorrect quotes)

Lando Norris-

Let Me In

Queen (Incorrect quotes)

The After, After, Party

Mirror 

Cringe 

100% Off

Two In The Morning!!

Blurry 

Charles Leclerc-

Sleeping Patterns (Incorrect quotes) 

Alphabet (Incorrect quotes)

Last Night ft. Max Verstappen (Incorrect quotes)

Coping Mechanism (Incorrect quotes)

Finally 

Pierre Gasly-

Bro- (Incorrect quotes)

Math

Lewis Hamilton 

Dinosouar 

Other:

Jacob Elordi 

Cuddler?

Felix Catton

Power Outage 

Barry Keoghan 

By Your - Bed? 

Cillian Murphy/ Characters:

Sexting 

Thomas Shelby:

Money (Incorrect quotes)

MCU Actors:

Chris Evans/ Characters-

Cooties ft Scott Evans (Fluff) 

[cillianhead]

IM LAUGHING LIKE A MAD MAN IN MY ROOM I CANT

IM LOSING MY MIND I CANT BREATHE

[cillianmurphyfanatic]

Cillian Murphy as Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow in The Dark Knight Rises (2012) dir. Christopher Nolan

[white-boy-of-the-year]

White Boy of the Year - Round 3 Voting: Second Poll

Barbenheimer returns in our second semifinals poll!!

Voting for all round 3 brackets lasts one week, and as always, read our pinned post if you want us (yes, your favorite wboty mods) to spread propaganda on your behalf.

[your-nanas-house]

That stupid thong

◇ Pairing: Dad's Best Friend!Cillian Murphy X Best friend's daughter!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, masturbation, drinking, mention of pee (not in a kinky way), pub bathroom (male), Dad's Best friend x best friend's daughter dynamic, thongs, bit dark (?)

◇ Summary: Cillian has a night out with his friends but meets Y/n in the same pub.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Part of the "Au/series" My Dad's Friend. "Part 1 here".

The place was full, people were coming in and out of the place, screams and laughter adding to the noisy atmosphere of the pub.

Cillian didn't fit in it that much due to his personality but that didn't stop him from going, just to enjoy a Guiness beer on tap. Fresh alcoholic drink that always managed to keep him on a good mood since it was a perfect excuses to meet friends.

It was the first time he went out on his own since his best friend's daughter went to stay to him for the summer. The first weeks were spent arranging and explaining things since it had been ages since the last time she visited Ireland.

Cillian didn't want to leave her alone, as his most protective part as a parent came out every time she did something that 'grown ups' did. Understandable since the responsibility of his 'kiddo' was on his shoulders and having no particular experience with freshly off age girls he struggled a bit, hesitating in every move.

The cold drink was refreshing as it went down his throat, the music was loud but not uncomfortable with the noises of the tv. There weren't many people but it was bit crowded, not enough to not recognize everyone in there, though.

As Cillian continued his evening with friends, chatting and laughing while enjoying beers after beers, something caught his attention. With the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar colour that made him turn around to check further... just to see Y/n with a boy taking a seat at a table near a corner of the pub.

It felt strange someway, seeing her dolled up for what looked like a date when he still remembered her sweet chubby face and princess dresses as their tea dates. 'Guess they became beer-dates over time', Cillian wondered while gulping down his beer again.

She was wearing a short skirt with a nice pattern that matched the color of the long-sleeved shirt she had on, one that delined her breasts perfectly making them seem rounder than when she just had a bra on. The actor could tell.

As his light blue eyes kept wondering back to her his left hand remained on the cold glass and the other subconsciously rubbed the fabric of the thong he had still in his pocket. He didn't do it on purpose, he was in a rush and just put on the first pants he had seen, finding just in the car the thong he had stolen.

"Will you excuse me a second?" Cillian murmured out, standing up from the stool to start approaching the spot where she was, ignoring the reasonable thoughts that kept popping in his head telling him to leave them have their date but after the beers he had, the alchol was dominating his mind.

"Kiddo? What are you doing here, you didn't mention a date" his low voice declared, his eyes scanning the Irish boy that was sitting next to her before meeting the embarassed gaze of his best friend's daughter

"Well it was a last minute thing and I was bored at home so.... yeah" she replied with a shy smile, hoping not to be in trouble for the choice of the pub or anything else but luckily one of Cillian's friends waved him over calling him just in time before he could ask further questions.... at her or worse at her date.

The rest of the night went smoothly, the older actor stayed to enjoy old times with his friends as he kept a close eye on Y/n just in case she needed something or anything happened.

Not a close eye enough, though, since towards the end of the evening he couldn't see them anymore so he called it a night and searched a cab while heading to the bathroom of the local.

It was a small bathroom, with two water-closet and some urinals close to the door.

The older man's hand reached for the door when a noise caught his attention, more like a voice that cursed under their breath making him recognize immediately who it was but not yet where from.

The bathroom was empty or so it seemed... except from one of the water-closet which had the door locked. The door didn't touched the ground allowing anyone to see the feet of who was inside— allowing Cillian to see who was inside. Allowing him to understand what was going on inside.

A thud of a back hitting the wooden door caught him by surprise, startling a moment before he made his way to the urinals with silent steps. Y/n's voice could be heard faintly as the young woman moaned softly out, nearly covering the sounds of the heavy breathing of the boy she was with.

Cillian could easily imagine the activity they were doing if he closed his eyes while unconsciously unzipping his pants. She was probably pressed against the door, her legs wrapped around the hips of the boy, her chest maybe bare since the corset was being pulled down to expose her young breasts for the male's eyes.

Feck, the actor thought as he glanced down at his now free cock which was hard thanks to his thoughts and the sweet noises, and didn't allow him to do exactly what he had gone to the bathroom for or at least not with some effort.

He stayed silent in the same room, listening carefully, enjoying a bit too much his best friend's daughter's noises and the new addictions of the act like the thuds of the thrusts, the wet noises coming probably from her wet cunt, plus the heavy breathing that matched his.

If the older man had had a mind less blinded by alcohol he would surely have stopped his hand which was now wrapped around his cock, stroking it in hard but slow motions, following the rhytm of the thrusts he could hear.

The wet noises filled his head as he spit in his hand and continuing where he left, checking slightly the door while masturbaring at the sounds, his eyes glued to the wood till he saw Y/n's thong fall on the dirty ground of the bathroom. Almost as a reminder of the thong he still had in his pocket and that wad screaming at him to take it and use it however he liked it.

His peak was getting closer and closer as he automatically reached for the fabric, wrapping it fast around his cock never stopping his quick wrist movements that made his body shake as soon as he came, biting down his lip and shooting his cum in the urinal.

It took me some minutes to recover from his peak and as soon as he was back to his sense completely, his hands tucked himself back in, moving the thong back in his pocket before leaving quickly the bathroom to head out of the pub.

On the way out Cillian could finally clear his mind, the fresh hair blowing straight to his face as if to wake him up by his dizziness and clear up his mind, as pity slowly started to crawl in him.

"Fuck" he murmured under his breath, inhaling deeply to calm down as he rested a moment against a wall to allow his body to relax till the cab arrival.

It didn't took Y/n very long to exit the place as well and look around to see if she could still see Cillian anywhere or if he had already headed back home before her. But there he was, facing a wall about to pee after all the drinks he had and since he never had the chance to do it earlier.

"Uncle Cilly—" she murmured, pulling him casually in a more private place, covering for him as some paparazzi tried to catch some scandal to put in newspaper and spread all over the world

"We should head back home, hm?" Her voice whispered out, glancing slightly at him before turning her back quickly to search the cab discretely.

[clonecaptains]

CILLIAN MURPHY | Watching the Detectives

[letstalkshipping]

I want to watch a movie tonight, but I only have a few Cillian Murphy films left to watch, and I don't like finishing things, so I'm just like, ignoring the few films I have left, and the last season of Peaky Blinders.

[cheebuss]

crying throwing up e.t.c

[ahsgirlblogger]

[fandom-official]

This Ken is a theoretical physicist