Cillian Fluff - Tumblr Posts

Masterlist

Summary

This is a window into the life of Cillian Murphy, actor, husband, and divorced father of two, currently cooped up at home due to the global pandemic. Join me as we explore the exploits of he and his wife (Y/N insert) as they navigate the ups and downs of life through lockdown. Expect tooth-rotting fluff, occasional angst and a fair smattering of downright filth.

You can read more of this couple during the making of Oppenheimer » HERE «

Warnings

Stories marked 🔞 contain smut and/or adult themes. Stories with 💯 were inspired by my 100 followers celebration. Each chapter has its own warnings section but the story includes themes of pregnancy loss and sexual assault. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Minors DNI.

This story doesn’t follow a chronological timeline - we’ll jump around the pandemic and our couple’s background depending on the scene. Chapters don’t generally flow from one to the other unless clearly marked (such as Parts 3 & 4) but where appropriate I’ll reference things from earlier chapters so it makes sense to read these in order.

Not quite a Reader Insert…

I began this as a reader insert but Mrs M is truly an OC to me (and many readers) so if you want to meet her as I see her, »» CLICK ««

Story - ongoing

Part 1: Caramel

Part 2: Paddling Pool 🔞

Part 3: Enough - Pt. 1

Part 4: Enough - Pt. 2 🔞

Part 5: Zombies

Part 6: Silk 🔞

Part 7: Day One 🔞 (for pandemic themes)

Part 8: Clippers 🔞

Part 9: Silent Treatment 🔞

Part 10: Game Night 💯

Part 11: Crash

Part 12: Beach 🔞

Part 13: Three Chance Encounters - Summer 1997, Pt. 1

Part 14: Three Chance Encounters - Summer 1997, Pt. 2

Part 15: Three Chance Encounters - Summer 1997, Pt. 3 🔞

Part 16: Three Chance Encounters - Summer 2006, Pt. 1

Part 17: Three Chance Encounters- Summer 2006, Pt. 2

Part 18: Sleep Story 🔞

Part 19: Three Chance Encounters - February 2014, Pt. 1 🔞

Part 20: Three Chance Encounters - February 2014, Pt. 2 🔞

Part 21: The Dress, Pt. 1

Part 22: The Dress, Pt. 2 🔞

Part 23: The Dress, Pt. 3 🔞

Part 24: The Dress, Pt. 4 🔞

Shorts

These are oneshots or blurbs involving the same pairing as Lockdown, but not strictly part of the series. Nor are they always short, but I liked the name and it stuck!

Strangers 🔞

Movie Night 🔞

Blanket 💯

Unexpected

Breakfast 💯

Emergency Tacos 💯

Distraction 💯🔞

Breakfast With Tiffany’s

Fireworks 🔞

A Misunderstanding 💯

Petals 🔞

Premiere 🔞

Strike A Pose

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Lipstick 🔞 (Golden Globes special)

Character lore & other stuff

I’ve answered a lot of questions about Mrs M and this couple more generally, so I’ve bundled these up in case anyone is interested.

Read their lore here

‘Director’s cut’ of The Dress chapters

Cillian makes Mrs M a mixtape

Mrs M’s style

Moodboards and other bits

Cillian’s camera roll

Snowy dog walk

Three Chance Encounters - Summer 1997

Three Chance Encounters - Summer 2006

Three Chance Encounters - February 2014

💋 Kiss and Tell - lockdown twist 🔞

Cillian’s 40th birthday party

Black!reader Mrs M x Cillian

Festive Scout by @raincoffeeandfandoms

‘A Week In Fragments’ teaser

The Murphy’s house in Dublin

MASTERLIST | CILLIAN MASTERLIST

The Unexpected Visit

Thomas Shelby x Reader

This is part 2, by the way! Check out part 1 first!

Part 3

Summary: Ada gets married, Thomas takes a Barmaid to a Derby, Thomas, and (Y/N) gets closer.

Word counter: 2,056 words

"Should I be crying? You look like an angel, Ada," I said wholeheartedly, helping her with the veil as I admired her through the reflection in the mirror. My words brought a chuckle from her, filling the room with a lightness.

"Do you think he'll like it? Freddie, I mean," she asked, seeking reassurance.

"Of course he will. Ang ganda mo kaya," I replied

"Ganda mo kaya?" Ada questioned, curious about the meaning. I explained, "It means 'you're beautiful.'' With her heart full of love, she left the house early in the morning.

Later that day, Pol asked me to run some errands around town, buy a few things at the market, though I knew she wanted me to take a breather from everything that's been happening, that I was thankful for. As I walked, the mud stained my shoes, and the smoke filled the sky, reminding me that this environment was vastly different from what I was accustomed to. I veered towards a less crowded section of town, continuing my walk, when suddenly, the sound of a gunshot pierced the air. My body froze, and my head snapped in the direction of the noise. In the distance, I spotted two figures—a man and a woman. Without daring to investigate further, I swiftly turned and ran, paying no mind to the mud splattering on my skirt. At that moment, running was the only important thing, outfit be damned.

"Jusko po..." I gasped, leaning my back against a wall once I deemed myself far enough from the commotion. I panted heavily, resting my hands on my knees to catch my breath. People cast strange glances in my direction, but I paid them no mind. No one could know what I had witnessed.

After calming myself down for a while, I realized I couldn't simply return home. Walking down the familiar streets, I made my way to the market and purchased the items on my list. Once back home, I placed them on the kitchen table before heading upstairs to change. Convincing myself that the gunshot from earlier were just friendly fire, that utbjust happened on accident.

As I descended the stairs, I overheard the boys conversing amongst themselves. Arthur now owned the Garrison, and Tommy had made an attempt on Ada's husband. They were planning to attend a Derby.

"So, you're taking the pretty barmaid, eh mate?" John asked. I paused for a moment at the bottom of the stairs, realizing that Tommy had a date.

Peeking my head around the corner, I caught sight of John and Arthur snickering to themselves.

"Whoa, Thomas has a date?" I exclaimed, capturing the attention of the three men. John was the first to respond, saying, "Of course he does."

"And she's a pretty one too, works at the Garrison!" Arthur chimed in. Unbeknownst to me, Thomas had been watching me the entire time, and as our eyes met, I gave him a thumbs-up.

"Good luck, treat her right," I said, my smile turning into a more serious expression. I was well aware of how women were often treated by men during these times.

"It's just business," Tommy replied dismissively.

"Everything is always business to you, Tommy," Arthur groaned, earning a glare from Thomas.

"It'd be nice if you take yourself a woman, eh?" John teased his brother, getting him a smack in the back of his head by Thomas which made me chuckle.

"Well, I heard you own the Garrison now, Arthur!" I interjected, walking over to join them.

"Been eavesdropping, eh, love?" Arthur said with a toothy grin, causing me to blush in embarrassment. When I tried to explain myself, he waved a hand in the air, assuring me it was alright, and mentioned that they would be celebrating at the Garrison. He then began pulling John along with him, leaving me alone with Thomas.

"I heard you tried to shoot Ada's husband. Did you apologize?" I asked, concerned.

"He's not dead."

"Did you apologize?" I repeated, but was only met with silence, I let out a sigh.

"Well, you should. If you're going on a date, you need to show respect to your sister before other women—"

"It's just business."

"Even so, Thomas. When's the date?" I inquired.

Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, as I continued referring to his "business" as a date.

"Tomorrow"

"Since you guys will be busy, I'll go out and find a library. Maybe they'll have something that can help me go back. I'll finish my work today and even do some extra to make up for it," I declared, informing him, knowing he won't stop me. When he only nodded, I took that as my cue to leave. Going inside the betting shop to officially start the day.

///

When tomorrow finally came, I went down to find out the boys have left already. I didn't see where Polly was but Finn was in the kitchen, he threw something in the fireplace.

I walked over to him, my curiosity peaked. "Hey, what was that, hm?" When I crouched down, it was a cigarette.

"Finn?" I held it out, wanting him to explain but were just met with a guilty look. I was aware enough that children from these times smoke and drank alcohol, Finn himself wouldn't be an exception, it shouldn't have had surprised me, especially since Thomas and the others smoked quite often.

"You're still young"

"I'd turn 11 soon,"

"Well, you're still 10. Do it when you're old enough to make decisions for yourself, I've got to go somewhere, but no more of this, okay?" He nodded, which made me smile, patting his head.

"Good, if Pol asks where I am, I'm off to the library"

To my surprised, when I left there was a Peaky Boy by the door, when he approached me, he said that Thomas asked him to escort me to the library since it was far away.

///

"Seriously? Still nothing?"

It has been hours and I still haven't found anything concerning time travel. Though this was expected, it still quite annoyed me. I felt hopeless, feeling tears start to make their way to fall down my cheeks.

"Ma'am, shall I take you home? Its getting quite dark." The Peaky Boy said which stopped my train of thoughts. Quickly wiping my eyes, I looked up at him and forced a smile.

"Yeah, sure." After finishing up, we began to walk our way towards town, it was quite silent so I tried to make conversation with the guy.

"So, what's your name?"

"Charles, Ma'am." I nodded in acknowledgment by his answer, chuckling a bit.

"You don't have to be so stiff, call me (Y/N)," he smiled at that and after we continued to walk with comfortable silence around us, letting me forget my frustration for a moment.

"Thanks for escorting me, by the way"

I bid him goodbye before walking inside the house. Once inside, no one was there, guess everyone's out. I went to Thomas' room, which can be considered mine for the time being.

Feeling a sense of boredom, I picked up a sketchbook and some pencils that Arthur had given me. The pages were already filled with a few sketches done by both me and him. Reflecting on the events of the day, I attempted to draw my brother, trying my best to capture his face. I couldn't help but worry that if I stayed here any longer, I would forget—forget my friends, my family, and the cherished memories we shared. It dawned on me that while I'm here they're probably looking for me.

Deciding to create a comic strip depicting my memories and descriptions of my family, I couldn't help but tear up a little. I had already forgotten my mother and brother's voice.

"Ma, miss kona kayo ni kuya... Mama..."

A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts, and I quickly composed myself before inviting the visitor in. It was Polly.

"Pol..."

"The boys are at the Garrison, celebrating. I came to pick you up. Are you alright, love?"

I smiled and nodded. "I'm alright, Pol. It's nothing, just a bit of homesickness. I'll stay here for the night. Do tell them I said congratulations." She nodded, relieved that she didn't pry any further, and left, bidding me goodnight.

///

Unable to sleep that night, I found some peace in my drawings. I kept a candle by my bedside to provide light, sitting with my knees drawn close to my chest and my back against the wall, facing the door with the notebook resting on my thigh.

After a while, I could hear the sound of people talking downstairs. It seemed like Arthur had indulged in a few drinks as he kept yelling, something about a man called Kimber. When the commotion subsided, there was another knock on my door, followed by Thomas' voice asking if I was still awake. I replied affirmatively, and he took it as his cue to enter. Closing the door behind him, he remained silent, prompting me to break the silence.

"So, how was the date? Did it go well?"

"I told you, it's business, eh?" he chuckled, walking over to sit beside me.

"What brings you here?"

"It's my room."

"Fair enough. But why are you here?" I asked. However, instead of responding directly, he asked a question of his own.

"How did your visit to the library go?" I sighed, playing with my hands as I slumped my shoulders.

"Terrible. I feel like I'm trapped here forever. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to be with you all, but I had a life back there, you know? If I stay here any longer, I'm afraid... i just miss my mother, brother, and my friends."

"You have a brother?" he asked, glancing back at me. I nodded, slightly distracted by his question.

"Yeah, he's annoying but caring. We used to play games together."

"Oh, really? What kind?" he inquired. I smiled and lightly punched him on the shoulder.

"Are you just trying to distract me?" I teased. He shrugged, pursing his lips in an attempt to suppress a smile, though I could see it in his eyes.

We continued our conversation, and somehow, before we knew it, we found ourselves lying in bed, facing each other. I kept talking, and he listened.

"Are you sure I'm not bleeding your ears?" I asked, squinting my eyes at him.

He shook his head and encouraged me to keep talking by gesturing to the side.

"Where was I again?" I questioned, testing if he was genuinely paying attention.

"You were talking about your dog named 'Dog,'" he replied.

"Ah, right."

As I was drifting off to sleep, I noticed him getting up, trying not to disturb me.

"Hey, Thomas..."

"Hm?"

"If I met you in my time, siguro nahulog nako sayo"

///

Those were the words that left (Y/N)'s lips. Thomas, though not fully understanding the context, couldn't help but smile nonetheless. He bid her goodnight before leaving to sleep downstairs.

Only he knew the true reason why he had sought her out after returning from the Garrison. Somehow, being with her made him feel like his former self, the boy he was before the war. She brought a genuine warmth to his life, treated him like a normal person and not something broken, not someone without a heart, and not someone that killed so many in the name of war. When she looked at him, he feels like she sees the boy he was, coaxing him to come out little by little, and that comforted him because she sees him, sees someone he thought he can never be again. What began as fascination had blossomed into something deeper. He yearned to know more about her, to delve into the stories and memories she shared. Her voice brought him a sense of comfort. In his own way he wanted her to feel heard, wanted her to know he was there, with her, with everything she will do while she's here.

But deep down, he knew she didn't belong here, and that she would eventually have to leave. So, as much as he wanted to make her stay as memorable as possible, if he could be selfish with her, he hoped against hope that she would choose to stay.

The Unexpected Visit

Thomas Shelby X Reader

This is part 3! Make sure to read the first few parts

Sumarry: The Lee brothers raided the Betting shop, Thomas gets closer with the reader, but what more can he do if she herself admits not to love a man from this time?

Word count: 2327 words

"Wait, so what did you guys do at the races?" I asked, wanting to clarify with Arthur as we sat in the private room at the Garrison, where we were currently playing poker. John was the dealer, so he sat on the stool in front of us, while Thomas was seated between me and Arthur. I was on his right, with Arthur on his left.

"We've beaten the Lee's! Cut their bloody brains out, that's for sure!" he said, as if it were the most normal thing to do. They seemed to notice how tense I had become by my reaction, which made John cough a bit.

"Well, not really their brains... um, just, you know, enough to get business done," John explained, trying to lighten my mood a bit. I nodded, trying to dismiss it.

"Ah, yeah, sure. I mean, I guess," I said, looking at my cards. I didn't want them to think that I thought less of them because of this, so I felt the need to explain myself.

"Sorry, I guess I'm not used to all of this, you know? Am I making this worse? Uh, I don't—"

Feeling the three of them looking at me, I made myself small in my seat, hiding my face behind the cards as anxiety rushed through me.

"How did you live your life before, hm?" Thomas asked, finally speaking. Glad that I could explain why I tensed up.

"Well, I was pretty sheltered. The most I heard of beatings were drunkards in our neighborhood fighting at night, but that was it. There really weren't fights that led to really bad situations, unless it was in the movies." They all nodded, though I knew they didn't understand the last bits of what I just said, and that was it. We decided that was the end of that part of the conversation. After a round of poker, the tension from earlier died down and I chimed happily, putting the money on the table inside my coat pocket—my winnings.

"Guess I win, hm?" I giggled, earning a groan from Arthur. When the barmaid came, she took the empty bottles and asked us if we wanted more whiskey. I looked at the men, and Thomas just nodded, waving her off. Before she left, she looked at me, as if examining who I was. I couldn't blame her, though—I stuck out like a sore thumb when placed beside the Shelby brothers. It was evident I didn't look like I belonged here. That thought made me sad, just a bit though. I knew It was the truth and that I had to leave soon. Then suddenly, a thought came to my mind. Thomas went on a date to the races with a barmaid. If my intuition serves me right, then that must have been the barmaid in question.

"I'm guessing that was the woman you went out on a date with?" I said, looking at Thomas with a smile. She looked pretty and acted like one too. If she liked Thomas, then I can bet that after a while the feelings can be reciprocated.

"Drop it." Thomas grimaced as I just chuckled. John, however, smirked as he decided to join in the teasing.

"I'm afraid Tommy here has eyes for someone else, love. Ain't that right, mate?" That piqued my curiosity even more, nudging Thomas to make him look at me.

"Really? Is she pretty?" I asked. Arthur just nodded as he patted Thomas' back. Thomas kept a poker face, but I could tell he was pretty annoyed by the way his jaw was clenched. When he looked at me, he didn't look angry at me, though—at least he wasn't annoyed enough to glare at me.

"You're bloody right she is! Quite smart too!"

"But if Thomas likes her, why didn't he take her to the races instead? Wait, are you leading that barmaid on?" I frowned, waiting for Thomas to reply as I pointed an accusing finger at him. The thought of someone I considered a friend playing with a woman's feelings like that just didn't sit right with me.

"I told you. That was business." He sighed as he shook his head, he took my hand that was pointing a finger at him and placed it down. Deciding to just believe him, I finally dropped the topic. John then asked me.

"How about you? Has someone caught your eye?" I looked over at John, feeling that the focus was on me once again. I nodded, smiling a bit, unaware that both brothers were checking Thomas for any kind of reaction.

"Well, of course!" I answered, that caused Arthur to smile, raising his glass to take a drink.

"Who is it, then?" John asked again, another smirk playing on his lips. I guess everyone was suddenly curious about my love life.

"Yer not gonna tell me he's in this room, aye?" Arthur asked, leaning closer to the table to look at me. I chuckled nervously, shaking my hands in the air.

"Oh, no. You guys are great, but..."

"But what?" Thomas asked and I explained that the man I liked wasn't from here, that he was from back in my time. And that hes a gentleman who kept to himself, that I started to like him because of how passionate he was with his work, how I liked that he was funny and was always there for me.

"Well also, I can't really like someone from here, you know? I'll eventually leave. I can't just stay for love, right? I really miss my old life. You lot understand, right? I'll break that poor man's heart."

I said all of that while looking at Thomas for any form of understanding. He didn't reply; he just leaned back and nodded. After that, he didn't look at me anymore, drinking his glass of whiskey as he fished out some cigarettes.

"Another round, eh?"

///

Thomas didn't talk to me much after that day. Whenever I approached him, he would still have time to talk, but not like before. He'd make an excuse that he was busy, that there were things he needed to do, to brush me off. Understanding his situation, I just let him be.

Around midday, Scudboat and I were left inside the betting shop, counting money as the Shelby family decided to have a family meeting at the Garrison.

"Do you think John will be back soon? Thomas did say he'd be back in five minutes," I asked Scudboat, to which he just shrugged. When we heard a noise, Scudboat was the first to call out.

"John?" When no one answered, I was the one who asked next.

"John, are you there?" When the doors to the betting shop opened, however, it wasn't John but a group of men with guns pointed right at us.

"This is for Cheltenham! We're just taking what's ours!" the man said. Before I could even react, they smacked my head with a rifle, just like they did with Scudboat.

Everything was a haze as I fell to the ground. All I heard were the footsteps of men, rummaging through drawers, shouting. My head hurt, and I felt some of them step on my hand, kicking my body whenever i got in their way.

Mama asan ka mama? Kuya? Kuya, you'll protect me, right?

When I woke up, I heard Arthur's voice as someone placed me somewhere comfortable— it was John.

"You alright, love?" He asked, my mind still being a little foggy from earlier events. Hearing his voice, I tried to give him a small smile and a nod, to reassure him.

"Bloody hell! What happened here?" Polly said. I groaned. When I tried to look over at them, my vision blurred a bit. The betting shop, the house, everything was thrashed.

"Polly...? Men. M-men came, I don't know how..." I tried to explain to them what I knew. Polly sat beside me while Scudboat explained for me. That was when Arthur came back up, holding wire cutters.

"Wire cutters? Why would they leave wire cutters?" Polly asked. The boys seemed to tense up as Thomas asked Scudboat to leave. He went on to explain how they would set traps for the Germans back in the war and place wire cutters as part of the joke. Polly began to panic, walking over to the kitchen as I pulled my knees close to my chest, an act of self-preservation.

"It's not here, alright? It's not here..." Thomas said, sitting next to me on the couch. I looked at him, tears threatening to fall down my eyes. I had never been in a situation like this. Everything was so overwhelming, my body felt so heavy, as if I was Atlas carrying the world.

"They pointed a gun at me... even stepped on and kicked me like an object..." I mumbled before burying my face in my knees. I don't want to feel like that again.

"Oh, love..." Polly said as I heard her walk towards me.

"Oh, I'd like to find them, Tom. Oh, that id do. That id bloody do." Arthur said, balling his fist as he saw my state. I felt weak. I couldn't protect myself. I didn't know how.

"I want to go home."

"I know, (Y/N). I know."

///

Thomas didn't know what to say to her. He was seething with rage, but she came first. She would always be first. He grabbed a clean cloth and saturated it with alcohol. The family saw what was happening and understood that Thomas wanted to take care of her alone, so they knew better than to interrupt. Before they left, Thomas asked John and Arthur to inspect the family car, using the word "tampered" so as not to frighten (Y/N) even more.

"Hey, look at me, aye? Come on, up you go. Up," he demanded, gently cupping her face. When that was done, he began to clean the wound on her head. Whenever she winced, he would make sure to try and be gentle. He didn't know how, he just tried. As he cleaned off her wounds, their eyes met.

"It hurts," she mumbled, flinching as Thomas accidentally applied too much pressure to the wound. In that moment, she instinctively grasped his hand, attempting to stop his actions even for a small amount of time. Then and there, he stopped. This was all new territory to him. Back at war, when he would clean the wounds of his comrades, pain be damned if they got to live. But she... she gets hurt, so he needs to try harder, be slower, gentler—anything that would spare her from inflicting pain, pain that he had caused.

"Sorry," he replied. Thomas tried his best to help her, disinfecting the wound slowly as his free hand cupped her face. He was apologizing for everything. Guilt seeped into his bones. If it weren't for him picking a fight with the Lee brothers, she wouldn't be hurt. Maybe if he took her with him and Polly to the Garrison, then...

"It's not your fault," she said, interrupting his thoughts. He didn't answer. What was he supposed to say? He couldn't agree. He felt shame.

"Thomas, it's not your fault. I can see it in your eyes." This time, it was her turn to cup his face. She cradled it like it was something precious, like he was something precious. (Y/N) smiled, a comforting smile as one of her thumbs caressed his cheek. He found himself leaning into it.

"I know you feel guilty. Yes, I could blame you, but why should I when you're here as gentle as a lamb with me? So smile, yeah? Even just a bit?"

How can she do that, he wondered. How can she easily wander her way inside his heart? It was so easy for her. Everything seemed so easy with her. Thomas let out a smile, nodding to her.

"There you go."

"Your hands are soft," he said, changing the subject. She only chuckled, putting her hands back in her lap as he sat next to her on the couch. They both decided to take a break from cleaning her wounds.

"Yours aren't," (Y/N) said, taking his hand in hers, feeling the calluses and roughness of it. After a while, she continued, their hands now interlinked. "And I think it's nice."

"How is that nice, aye?" he scoffed. These very hands had killed thousands.

"It's nice because it tells me who you are. A hardworking man who has clearly seen and been through shit. Me, on the other hand, I actually have very soft hands because I never did hard labor," she said, her face flushed in embarrassment, which he secretly found endearing.

"I actually found it rather embarrassing when I got here. When I was young, my relatives would feel my hands and say, 'Dika tumutulong sa bahay, noh?' Or 'Tamad ka siguro.'"

"What did that mean?"

"The first one means 'Youre not helping with household chores, are you?' The second one meant 'I bet you're lazy.'"

She chuckled, shaking her head. After a bit more moments of comforting silence, Thomas decided to finish cleaning her wound. When that was done, he helped her go upstairs to his room.

"Hey, Thomas?" (Y/N) asked as he sat her on the bed. He only hummed to let her know that he was listening.

"Why were you avoiding me before? Like, after our little poker game at the Garisson. Was it because I kept winning?" She asked, playing with her blouse. Trying to suppress a smile, he licked his bottom lip, hands on his jaw as he shook his head.

"That was a provision— once you leave."

"Mhm? What? Why?"

"To get used to feeling like yer not here, eh. Now none of this, aye? I'll ask Pol to help you change." That was all that was said before he left.

@optimisticsandwichgladiator

. _. Bro... I've just watched Peaky Blinders amd trying to get my uni work together... But this fic got me stoked...

Its FAQIN GREAT!

“morning mr. shelby.” — tommy shelby x reader ⋆｡˚

tommy shelby x fem!reader

you meet tommy as a nurse during the war, but happens when he realizes that he’s known you all along? (loosely based around some s1 plot points, but all set before the war)

18+ minors dni please! angst, fluff and smut

cw: mentions of war, shooting, stabbing, suturing, ptsd, friends to lovers, eventual smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), slight breeding kink

word count: 5.4k+ (sorry lmao)

a/n: ahh first fic alert!! i’m so excited for you guys to read this! don’t be a ghost reader and lmk if you want to be added to my tag list for future tommy/cillian stuff!! 💌

you met tommy shelby during the war. he was a soldier, you were a wartime nurse. before the war, you had obviously heard of him. tommy shelby, leader of the fucking peaky blinders. arrogant bastards.

you lived in small heath, and everyday you’d pass him on the street. and everyday, you’d smile and say, “morning, mr. shelby.” and everyday, he would barely look up at you. you were sure he wasn’t even aware of your existence. prick.

your parents had always told you to stay away from the shelby boys. your dad would say that “they’re dangerous and make whores out of innocent girls” and your mum would make some comment about “the shelby men and their stupid cocks and their stupid judgements”.

they were the most intimidating people in all of small heath, possibly in all of birmingham. truth be told, there was a certain charm to them that you couldn’t shake off. well, to one of them. tommy shelby. you couldn’t tell if it was because he was your age, or because he was powerful and strong, or simply because he was strictly off limits. or because of his piercing blue eyes.

everyone in small heath knew tommy. but you knew tommy. he didn’t know you, though. you could tell if was him by the way he exhaled or by the sound of his footsteps or by the way he held a cigarette in his hand, the peaked cap on his head, a hand in his coat pocket. you despised tommy shelby, but god, was he fucking irresistible.

when men were drafted for the war in france, it was common sense that they’d need someone to tend to their cuts and bruises. you’d decided to volunteer, and after a couple weeks of training, you were right there, in the field. practicing on dolls and bags of rice and flour was nothing compared to what you saw. what you heard.

your first day in france was… eventful, to say the least. some commander had led you to the medical tent, and you were welcomed by the screams of hurt soldiers, blood and panic. you were immediately assigned to a patient, who’d been shot in the chest. you tried your best, did everything you could have, but ultimately, he had just lost too much blood. you didn’t sleep that night, haunted by the bloodshed, by the pleas of the soldier to keep him alive, by the feeling of someone else’s blood on your hands. over time, however, you grew accustomed to having your pristine white uniform soiled with blood and mud.

a month or so after you’d started, you heard shouts outside the tent. “help! someone HELP, for FUCK’s SAKE!” this was a regular occurrence, but the voice the shouts came from didn’t sound wounded. you felt an instinctual need to go see what it was.

what you saw, though, was something you never expected to see. tommy shelby, with a comrade’s head in his lap, putting pressure on a wound in his shoulder. without hesitating, you helped tommy drag the soldier to a vacant bed in the tent. “what happened?” you asked, hurriedly. tommy was visibly panicked. “i- he- um, he got st-stabbed by… one of the germans… his name’s danny- daniel.” you looked in tommy’s eyes, trying to give him some semblance of comfort. “he’ll be okay.” you applied pressure on the wound, and luckily, the blood stopped flowing soon. you cleaned the wound up and looked to tommy. “i’m gonna have to disinfect the wound with alcohol, you might want to hold daniel down for this.” daniel was still delirious from the blood loss, but the pain would be excruciating. tommy braced himself. his hands firmly holding down daniel’s. you nodded before tipping the bottle over on the wound. danny thrashed around on the bed, screaming and cursing, struggling against tommy’s hold. you heard his voice over danny’s. “you’re alright, lad! y’er gonna be fine!”

tommy sat by his friend’s bedside as he came to. you tended to other patients in the meantime but eventually went over to talk to him. “i want to keep him here for the night, mr. shelby. make sure there’s no infection.” he looked at you, surprised you knew him. “you know who i am?” “of course i do, all of small heath knows you. what i didn’t expect was to have a run-in with you, here in france.” he scoffed at his own misery and spoke. “you don’t belong here. you should be home.” you rolled your eyes, even in his state, he managed to be cocky. “if i wasn’t here today, mr. shelby, who would save danny?” that seemed to shut him up. he was about to speak, before you heard your name from the other side of the tent. “y/n, we need you!” after having helped a soldier who looked like he had been mauled, you looked out to see it was nightfall, and tommy had left.

a couple days later, at about noon, john shelby, the youngest of the shelby brothers walked in, clutching his arm tightly. “do you need help, mr. shelby?” you called out. “yes, i-i’ve been shot.” he all but whispered. you rushed over with a tray of distilled alcohol, forceps and bandages. after an afternoon of agony and pain, you had finally managed to pull out the bullet form his arm, john’s face a clear representation of his relief. “oh my god love, if we were home, i’d marry you right now.” you laughed at the proposition. “mr. shelby, i think you’re still a bit delirious from the anaesthesia. besides, i’m your brother’s age.” he looked shocked. “what, you’re arthur’s age? really?? you look nothing like that old prick.” you couldn’t help but laugh yet again. “i’m not that old, jesus. i’m tommy’s age.” he sighed. “marry him then. lord knows he needs a girl.” you giggled as you gathered your things and walked away. “you amuse me far too much, mr. shelby.”

it felt like ages had passed before you saw tommy again. your back was towards the tent entrance but you knew who had walked in. his breath trembled and his footsteps felt a bit unsteady, but it was undoubtedly him. you waited to turn until he called out your name. “y/n, is it?” you turned around, to find his face and shirt covered in blood. “mr. shelby! what happened?” you rushed over to him, taking his hand and sitting his down on a bed. “i- i… killed a man today, y/n.” he looked down, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. you didn’t respond, simply got up and grabbed a stitching kit and a bowl of warm water. “is all this blood yours?” was your first question. “no. most of it is his.” you sighed and searched his face to find a cut on his cheekbone, the source of his own bleeding. “i’m wiping away the blood now, okay?” tommy gulped and nodded, his eyes still trained on the ground. “mr. shelby, i want you to look at me.” it was as if he didn’t hear you. you spoke again, softer yet more authoritative this time. “tommy. look at me.” he finally brought himself to look into your eyes. in his eyes, you saw guilt, regret and fear. in yours, he saw compassion, love and a warmth that could engulf all his pain. “good.” you whispered. you wrung out a washcloth and began wiping the blood away from his face, using your other hand to hold his chin in place. his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist, in an attempt to ground himself. you didn’t say anything, but your eyes told him that you didn’t mind. in that moment, you saw a different version of tommy shelby. you didn’t see ‘tommy, the criminal’, ‘tommy, the gangster’ or ‘tommy, the womanizer’. you saw tommy, a good man, an honest man. you felt his arms tighten around your waist as you pulled your hands away from his face, as if he was afraid you would dissipate into thin air. “tommy.” you whispered. “i’m gonna have to stich that wound up. it might hurt.” but he didn’t mind pain, not if you were the one inflicting it. “okay.” he spoke, his voice deep. he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumbs, the pain making him hum. “sorry, almost done.” you finished the last stitch. “there. you’re all fixed.” tommy held you like that, his hands around your waist, icy blue eyes staring into yours. your arms rested on his shoulders and you leaned down to whisper to him. “tommy. people are staring.” “so? let them.” eventually, he reluctantly pulled away from you. “it’s time for dinner, and then lights out.” he smiled as he spoke, and slowly exited the tent, catching a glimpse of you as he left.

needless to say, you only grew closer over the next few weeks. you were inseparable. whenever tommy had free time, he’d make his way to the familiar tent, and talk to you. it was wartime. you were left hurt and traumatized and so was he, but you both found solace in each other’s company. you told him how you knew him, and how you’d wish him good morning every day, only to receive complete silence from him each time. he chuckled and apologized. he told you about the peaky blinders, what they did, how they ran their business. you bonded over your shared hunger for knowledge and stories. you told him everything you knew about art, history and literature; and he told you stories of fighting gangs in the streets and stealing contraband. his stories were always more thrilling than yours. you’d try to set each other up with people for fun. you’d introduce him to every nurse, telling them how he was fighting for his country, and of course, they fell prey to his charming eyes and dashing smile. they’d ask what he did back home, and as soon as you said the words ‘gangster’, they’d run in the opposite direction. he’d done the same for you. introduced you to other soldiers, and when you spoke to them, about art and literature, they’d call you ‘unladylike’ or ‘too ambitious for a man’. you both secretly liked it this way, it was like you were his and he was yours.

when he became sergeant major, you both celebrated together. he’d brought you a bottle of whiskey, and you spent the night, talking and giggling drunkenly. but soon, he was assigned to be a sapper and dig tunnels. you both knew that the germans were going to dig their own tunnels, and at some unfortunate point, the tunnels would converge. both of you realized the danger it held, but he had to do it. you tried to talk him out of it, though. “tommy, please!” “y/n, calm down.” “goddamn it tommy, think! you’re gonna get yourself killed! what the fuck are you doing?” “i’ll be alright.” “no, you won’t! what if you get hurt? what if they shoot at you, huh? i won’t be there underground to make sure you’re okay!” “y/n, i have to serve my country. i have to do this.” “tommy. i’m begging you, don’t do this.” he simply sighed and kissed your forehead and held your face in his hands. you held tightly onto his wrists as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “shhh, i’ll be alright. in fact, i’ll write you.” you seemed to calm down at the idea of him writing you. at least you’d be updated on his condition.

the morning he went down to the tunnels, he came to see you. you were sorting gauze and bandages when you felt his presence near you. you turned around and ran to hug him. he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. you could feel tears brimming your eyes. neither of you knew why you felt like this. you were just friends, right? “tommy michael shelby, i swear to god if you die, i’ll kill you myself.” you heard him chuckle. he took a step back and caressed your cheek. “you take care, darling.” you wished he wouldn’t leave, but in your heart, you knew he had to. a few hours after, you found a letter tucked under a book on your desk. you curiously pulled it out and opened it.

dearest y/n,

i know how much you hate that i’m going to be a sapper now. i want you to know, no matter what happens down there, i care for you, and i love you, unconditionally. i’ve loved you since the day i first met you. i can’t believe i was looking for love in whores and prostitutes when the love of my fucking life was saying the sweetest good morning to me every morning. i’ll protect myself, and i want you to protect yourself too since i can’t do that for the time being. if we survive this wretched war, i want to take you home, ask your father for your hand and marry you, sweetheart. you take care of yourself, alright?

all my love,

tommy shelby.

you couldn’t help but gasp at what you read. he loved you. tommy shelby loved you. the same tommy shelby that was too arrogant to say a word to you, the same tommy shelby that your parents told you to stay away from, the same tommy shelby was head over heels for you. you immediately looked for a piece of paper, a pen and some ink. you wrote a letter back and sent it with one of the workers heading down to the tunnels. you didn’t know what it was like down there, but you hoped your letters would keep him sane. meanwhile, tommy received your letter and opened it with the same enthusiasm you showed his letter. however, he was also filled with nervous energy. he had confessed his love for you, which was so incredibly out of character for him, but with shaky hands, he proceeded to open the letter.

dearest tommy,

to say that your letter was shocking would be an understatement. i never knew you felt this way for me. like i’ve told you on several occasions, my parents always told me to stay away from ‘your kind’ and as a good catholic girl, i obeyed them. but tommy, in these few months, i’ve seen a side of you i can’t ever forget. i love you too tommy, the real you. the honest, raw, genuine tommy that i get to see on late nights and in random moments on busy days. i’d love to marry you, just make it out alive of that damn tunnel, you prick.

only yours,

y/n.

tommy felt his eyes welling up as he read the words you had penned on the paper. it had been so long since he’d seen you, or heard your voice. he wanted you. he needed you. to keep him stable and sane. as the days passed, your and tommy’s letter exchange became more and more frequent, and you felt like even if you were in this goddamned lawless land of blood and chaos, you had tommy. and he was all you needed.

that was, until the letters slowed down. you kept writing him, but to no avail. he hadn’t sent you a letter in days, or weeks, you weren’t sure anymore. you’d almost lost hope, and spent entire nights grieving him. trying to remember the sound of his voice, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the smell of his cologne. you hadn’t heard his breath or felt his footsteps in a long time. the pain was almost unbearable, and some days felt like decades. but the only thought that kept you going was that you saw tommy in all the wounded soldiers you treated. they were someone’s tommy. and they needed to get home alive.

4 months. 4 whole months since you heard from tommy. you were convinced he was dead now. you spent your days bandaging and stitching wounds, yet you could never fix the wound tommy left in your heart. it was one of the hottest afternoons, the french sun blazing unmercifully. you were insanely busy with patients today, the war was almost ending, and the soldiers needed to be fixed up before they could go home. yet, no sign of tommy. you sighed, cursing yourself for holding out hope now for someone who would not return.

“can i have a nurse here?” you could recognize that damn voice anywhere. the deep voice that filled your ears, smooth like honey, you’d recognize that voice at the end of the world. you turned around. tommy. “hi, love.” he smiled. but his smile quickly changed into a frown when he saw your sobs. you took him to a quieter corner of the tent. you stepped closer to him. he went to put his arms around you. you slapped him across the face. “where. the FUCK were you, thomas michael shelby?!” he was incredibly confused. “l- love, what?” “i thought YOU DIED, YOU BASTARD. where were you?” the time you spent apart had changed you, and from his response, you could tell it clearly changed him. “i was TRYING to fucking STAY ALIVE for YOU.” he raised his voice at you. he never raised his voice. neither of you spoke for a while and tension filled the air between the two of you. “i should leave.” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. he left, and you let him.

after a few weeks, news broke that britain had won the war, and everyone went home. five years had passed since you last saw the familiar streets of small heath, and you were no longer a girl, but a woman. a woman who needed to get a job to survive in this city. you walked around and saw a flyer on the doors of the garrison. ‘BARMAID NEEDED.’ you walked in to find harry. he looked up pleasantly surprised. “y/n! haven’t seen you in a while, eh? what can i do you for?” “i’m here to get the barmaid job, harry.” he sighed.” y/n, this job isn’t suitable for a girl like you. these men, they’ve just come back from war, they haven’t seen a girl, let alone a pretty one like yourself, in ages. they’ll have you up against a wall within the first hour of your shift.” you looked at him desperately. “harry, please. i need this job, otherwise i’ll be out on the streets, which are surely worse than this pub. i was a nurse in france, i’ve dealt with these men. please?” he sighed again before nodding. “alright then, you start tomorrow.”

your first shift consisted of the usual alcoholics, men with ptsd, everything that was to be expected after a war. you hear the bells at the door ring as the familiar footsteps walk closer to the bar. without turning around, you ask, “what do you want?” he replies, “whiskey, scotc- y/n?” you finally turn around at the sound of your name falling from his lips. “yes, mr. shelby. so, scotch? on the house right?” he leans over so that just the two of you can hear. “don’t mr. shelby me. come on, love, talk to me.” “i have nothing to talk to you about.” as you poured him a glass of whiskey, he held your wrist assertively. “y/n. come.” you rolled your eyes and went to the shelby’s private booth. “what is it that you want, tommy?” “what the fuck do you mean ‘what do i want’? you, i want YOU. i need you. did ya lose your fucking mind in france like danny whiz-bang?” you felt your bottom lip trembling and your throat choking up. “i… i thought y- you were fucking dead. i mourned you. for MONTHS. i grieved over the death of the love of my life. of my future husband. of my future children that i’d have with him. and then, just as i’m making my peace with it, YOU have the fucking audacity to show up? you have some bloody nerve, tommy shelby.” the look in his eyes softened as he took a step closer to you. “no. don’t you dare come any closer to me, tommy, i’ll kill you.” you said, holding up the bottle of whiskey as a weapon. he embraced you, holding you tightly, his fingers stroking your hair. you resisted the hug and tried to push him away, only to find his grip on you getting tighter. “g- get away… from me, p- please… i- just” your voice came out muffled between sobs. tommy felt hot tears rolling down his own cheeks. “shhh, sweetheart. i’m okay, eh? i’m fine. i’m here, with you.” you dropped the bottle you were holding and it shattered into a million pieces on the ground. you stood there in his arms, crying for what felt like an eternity. you finally pulled away from him, and he wiped your tears with his thumbs. you laughed, but then lightly slapped his arm. “you scare me like that again, tommy, i swear i’ll kill ya.” “i’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead, and you rested your forehead against his. he tentatively closed the gap between your lips and his, and you pulled him by the collar and kissed him with enough force to make him trip and fall. he managed to stay steady and kissed you back with equal fervour. he spoke between kisses. “i *kiss* spent *kiss* every *kiss* second *kiss* thinking *kiss* of you.” you giggled. “i missed you too, tommy.”

he told harry that you’d be leaving the bar early that day, and dragged you out the bar while holding your hand, a smile on his face for the first time in a long time. “the great thomas shelby isn’t embarrassed to have a barmaid as his girlfriend?” you giggled. “never. and those who think i should be embarrassed can suck me cock.” he spoke proudly. he opened the car door for you, and you sat inside and waited for him to turn the ignition on. “where are we going, tommy?” “i want you to meet my family, love.” during the countless hours you spent together chatting, he told you about his family’s idiosyncrasies and stories about them. how arthur needed to be protected the most during fights because he was just as likely to hurt himself as he was to hurt someone else, how aunty pol’s instincts about love were never wrong, how john once fell in love with a prostitute and everyone laughed at him, how ada was the most rebellious and married a communist (who happened to be in of his best mates), and how finn always pretended to act like tommy, doing whatever his big brother did. you were excited to meet them of course, but anxious. they would be your family one day too.

he held your hand as he brought you in, everyone sitting around a table waiting for him. “does everyone just sit together like this?” you asked. “uh, no i called a family meeting for 3 pm.” tommy replied simply. “how did you know you’d be able to have me here by 3?” he winked at you. “i have my ways. and i know how much you love me.” he spoke in a singsong voice. you rolled your eyes at his schoolboy behaviour and waited for him to speak. “shelby’s, this is my girlfriend and soon to be fiancé, y/n.” he held his arm around your waist proudly, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. you recognized arthur and john immediately from your time in the war. you assumed that the older woman was aunt polly, and the younger with the baby in her arms would be ada, leaving the youngest member of the family, finn. john came up to talk to you first, while tommy spoke with polly. “you know i didn’t really mean the ‘marry tommy’ thing?” you laughed as you replied, “i didn’t either, but fate works in weird ways, eh?” he agreed with you before talking to tommy. arthur was the next one to see you. “you and tommy, eh? if it wasn’t for the war, you two would probably never have met. i s’pose war isn’t all bad then.” “perhaps you’re right. i did find your brother to be arrogant before the war.” “that he is, y/n. that he is.” both of you looked over at him, engaged in conversation with everyone else. you fussed over the baby in ada’s arms. “awww, he’s precious! what’s his name?” “karl, after karl marx.” you shot her a look. “it’s unconventional, i know. but freddie really wanted it.” “it’s lovely.” finn rushed over to you and kissed your hand. you gushed exaggeratedly. “what a gentleman you are, finn!” “if tommy wasn’t here, you’d be my girlfriend, miss y/n.” you laughed at his childishness and ruffled his hair. “sure i would, finn.” the only person you hadn’t spoken to yet was aunt polly, arguably the most intimidating person of the family. “i have one question for you, y/n. how you answer it will determine if you’re fit for being a shelby. how do you think i kept this business up and running during the war?” you felt put on the spot but tried your best to answer. “um, well, to be quite frank, i’ve believed that women are better at business anyway. we know how to settle deals with whiskey and not fists or guns. and you seem like twice the man than most men i know anyway.” her lips twitched up into a smile as she looked to tommy. “oh, i like her already.” he held your hand in hers, and addressed tommy. “she seems like a lovely girl, do not fuck this up tommy.” tommy shook his head and laughed. “i’ll try, pol. i’ll try.”

you ate dinner with the shelby’s before you headed up to his house. “you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?” he asked for the hundredth time that night. “no tommy, i’m perfectly content spending the night with you. unless you’d like me to leave?” you questioned. “no no, stay, please!” he said, almost pleadingly. you looked around his bedroom when you reached his home. it was obviously a house, but it didn’t feel like a home. you frowned at your observation. “what’s wrong, y/n?” “this house isn’t a home yet, tommy.” “that’s because i want my first home to be with you. with our children. and as far as i’m concerned, you are my home.”

“care to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand. you looked at the gramophone in the corner. “that doesn’t look like it works, love.” you placed your hand in his. “so what? we can dance without music.” he said, holding your waist close to him, your hand on his shoulder. you leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you dancing in the silence, listening to the sound of each other’s breathing. “kiss me, tommy.” you whispered. he obeyed probably for the first time in his life and kissed your soft lips.

things escalated and you were now on tommy’s bed, tracing the sun tattoo on his chest, with him on top of you. “fuck me, tommy, please.” “your cunt wants this cock?” he growled. you moaned in his ear. “fuck, yes tommy, make me yours.” he stretched you out in the most blissful way. of course, you had used your fingers before, but nothing could replace the feeling of his cock. “god, please!” you moaned out, words slowly turning into incoherent sounds. tommy chuckled. “god can’t hear you now, sweetheart. not here.” he pistoned his hips into you just right and it wasn’t long before he found the spot inside you that made you scream. “t- tommy fuck! right there, please don’t stop!” “i wouldn’t dream of stopping, darling. my girl, so pretty all spread out for me. take it, love. take that cock.” the feeling of your impending orgasm coursed through your entire body, making you writhe in pleasure. “god, i’m so close tommy!” “good fucking girl.” his hand reached down to rub circles on your clit while he fucked you so good. “oh god, tommy, i’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow…” “that’s the plan, sweetheart.” he spoke as he kissed hickeys on your neck, matching the ones you’d given him earlier. “come on love, make a mess on my cock.” as soon as he said that, you felt yourself falling apart, the tight band in your stomach snapping, uncontrollable moans of his name falling from your lips. “thank you tommy, thank you so much.” you moaned, drunk on the feeling of his cock inside you. “such an angel. who do you belong to, sweets?” he said, still pounding your cunt. “y- you, tommy. i belong to you!” “that’s right, sweetheart.” he whispered in your ear, “i love you, darling.” you moaned as you felt your second orgasm approaching. “tommy, fuck! i- i love you too!” “god i’m gonna cum inside you! you’d like that, eh? me getting you pregnant, all nice and round with my baby?” you felt your orgasm pulsing through you at his words. “yes, tommy! fill my womb up, please! i need it!” you heard tommy’s loud moans as he came inside you. “oh, such a good girl. took my cock so well, love.” tommy stayed on top of you for a while, his cock still inside you. “i’ve wanted to do that for five fucking years.” he spoke, voice muffled since his head was buried between your tits. you laughed, but the laughs quickly turned to moans as your sensitive cunt felt friction from tommy’s cock rubbing up against its walls. he pulled out of you slowly, watching his seed spill out of you. he eventually got up to get a warm washcloth and a glass of water for you. you drank the water as he cleaned you and himself up and pulled you into his chest. you pulled the covers over both of you, feeling your body flush against his. “that was amazing tommy, thank you.” “the pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead.

ever since tommy came back from france, he had these recurring nightmares every night. of his time in the tunnels. the germans. his comrades. how he had to kill people with his bare hands. he could still hear the shovels digging the tunnels when he closed his eyes. when he was with you though, he could finally fall asleep. or so he thought.

you were awoken in the middle of the night by the sounds of a gasping tommy, suddenly sitting up. you felt groggy for a moment, having just woken up, but quickly sprung into action. you sat next to him, rubbing his back. “tommy, what’s wrong?” he didn’t speak. but he didn’t need to. you’d seen enough cases of ptsd from your time in the war to know what was happening to him. “you still see it, eh?” he only nodded. you laid back down and pulled him into your chest. he protested. “what are y-” “shut up.” you could tell, he was still a bit frantic, his breath still heavy. you spoke to him in a soft tone and you played with his fingers, his head on your chest. “listen to me. listen to the sound of my voice. feel my body against yours. you are home. you are safe. the war is over. the nightmares are just parts of your mind trying to scare you. but you’re stronger than that, eh? i’m here with you, and you don’t need to be scared. alright? i’m here with you, always.” he hummed, heavy eyelids slowly closing shut. being able to smell the scent of your perfume helped ground him. “good job, tommy. now sleep. i’ll be here with you when you wake up.” you managed to get him to go to sleep, but somehow convinced your mind to let you sleep light enough that if tommy were to have another nightmare, you’d be up immediately. fortunately, he didn’t wake up during the night.

he woke up to the sight of a sleeping you, the sun rays hitting you just right. he swore he could look at you forever. you felt his gaze on you and slowly opened your eyes. “how’d you sleep?” you asked. “like i hadn’t slept in years.” he replied.

“morning, mr. shelby.” you wished him, as you did, every day before the war. except this time, you were in his arms, in his bed. you kissed his lips softly. except this time, he finally wished you back.

“mornin’, sweetheart.”