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phoenixblack89 · 9 months

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Chapter 10 - The Secrets We Keep

Well its certainly been a hot minute since I posted a chapter. If ya follow me ten ya know that a unexpected, but otherwise welcome, pregnancy has taken up much of the past year. That whole shebang was very stressful which could b a whole episode of some soap opera with how certain members of my family went on about how I'd end up with post natal depression again and wouldn't cope with 2 kids etc. this person basically can go to hell...

Anyway that's taken up a lot of my energy and as ya can imagine i haven't had time to write or even read anything but I am finally in a place where I have the time, creativity and energy to write again and am already working on the next chapter of this so please keep ya eyes peeled.

As always - page breaker is by the awesome @firefly-graphics

TAG LIST: @lilythemadqueen @autocon23 @archerangel @littlegodzilla @pandora-writes-stuff @boondoctorwho @browneyes528 @darylsgirl @purple-serenity @fandomsaremykryponite

WARNINGS: Shane being a gaint tit, typical TWD gore, character death, foul language

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Phoenix made her way to the camp fire as her stomach growled loudly. She knitted her eyebrows together in confusion as she saw Maggie shaking her head at Glenn from the porch of the farmhouse. She turned quickly to look his face as he received a nod from Dale. Glenn stood and walked to the centre of camp before he cleared his throat as everyone sat, gaining their attention.

"Erm.. Guys. So... Barn's full of walkers." His voice quivered out.

"Ya know how to fucking ruin the day before it's begun don't ya Glenn." She scoffed as everyone slowly stared at the Asian man in shock, as he shuffled nervously from foot to foot.

The group rushed towards the barn where Glenn said the walkers were. Growls and snarls could be faintly heard as the group gathered around the barn. Shane being curious, peered through the gaps in the slats into the dark building then startled back as one growled and lunged towards the smell of fresh meat. The walkers crashed against the door, making the chain rattle as the group took a step back in fright.

"You cannot tell me you're all right with this." He stated, shaking his head and pointing at the barn.

"No, I'm not, but we're guests here. This isn't our land." Rick counted in his soft southern tones.

"This is our lives!" Shane spat at his friend in anger.

"Lower your voice." Glenn hissed as the doors gave another shake.

"We can't just sweep this under the rug." Andrea sighed with a disappointing tone to her voice.

"I would hate to agree with blondie but... We can't stay with walkers under 100 feet away." Phoenix huffed, pointing at the barn before shrugging.

"It ain't right. Not remotely." T-Dog input quietly.

"Okay, we've either got to go in there, we've got to make things right or we've just got to go. Now we have been talking about Fort Benning for a long time."

"We can't go." Rick snapped at his friend.

"Why, Rick? Why?"

"Because my daughter is still out there." Carol said breathily, giving Shane a look of disgust at such a suggestion.

"Okay. Okay, I think it's time that we all start to just consider the other possibility." Shane laughed a little with a strange look in his eyes as he stared down the smaller woman.

"We're not leaving Sophia behind!"

"I'm close to finding this girl. I just found her damn doll two days ago!" Daryl growled out, getting angrier by the second as the loud mouth former police man spoke.

"You found her doll, Daryl. That's what you did. You found a doll." The man scoffed.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"I'm just saying what needs to be said. You get a good lead, it's in the first 48 hours." He half whispered to his former colleague, making sure that everyone else could still hear him.

"Shane, stop."

"Ye being a dickhead Walsh." Phoenix growled, her hand going to her knife in anger.

"Let me tell you something else, man. If she was alive out there and saw you coming all methed out with your buck knife and geek ears around your neck, she would run in the other direction!" Shane snarled into Daryl's face with a look of sheer disgust on his face. Daryl shoved at Shane as his anger got the better of him, causing the group to begin to yell at each other.

"Back off!"

"Keep your hands off me." Shane hissed at Lori.

"Now just let me talk to Hershell. Let me figure it out." Rick yelled, trying to defuse the situation before it became a fist fight.

"What are you gonna figure out?!" Shane spat, gesturing to the barn in question.

"If we're gonna stay, if we're gonna clear this barn, I have to talk him into it. This is his land."

"Hershell sees those things in there as people... Sick people... His wife, his stepson." Dale spoke quietly, trying to get everyone to calm down.

"You knew?" Rick gasped at the eldest group member.

"Yesterday I talked to Hershell." Dale said calmly, glancing at the group.

"And you waited the night?"

"I thought we could survive one more night. We did. I was waiting till this morning to say something. But Glenn wanted to be the one." The older man reasoned quietly as Shane glared at him in shocked anger.

"The man is crazy, Rick, if Hershell thinks those things are alive or no -"

Phoenix scoffed at the noisy group before she walked around the side of the barn and looked up at the ladder.

A Hayloft?

She glanced back at the rest of the arguing group and made her mind up and picked the torch lying in the grass up before her feet and hands pulled her quickly upwards. The smell made her gag slightly as she nearer the edge of the loft and looked downwards. The groaning mass turned their attention to her, broken and bloodied hands reaching upwards. She flicked on the torch she had grabbed and spun it over the creatures.

"Oh shit." She gulped as she tried to do a head count. There was more than she expected there to be. How had they all gotten in here without people noticing?

Suddenly the beam of light landed on a smaller figure and her heart stopped.

"God no..."

She turned and scrambled out of the hayloft and away from the barn as quickly as she could. As she reached camp, she leaned against a tree with her good hand and threw up all she'd eaten the last few hours. Her stomach feeling twisted and her heart completely shattered.

It had to be her eyes playing tricks. It couldn't be her! It couldn't! Daryl had just found her doll two days ago! She wasn't in the fucking barn! She was simply lost out in the woods.

No one noticed her throwing up or the tears streaming down her face. She fell to her knees gripping her hair tightly as she sobbed. Her rosaries fell from her shirt and she clutched them tightly in her fist.

T-Dog was the first to notice the girl, who seemed to be in some distress. He nodded to Daryl and pointed to her. Daryl frowned and shrugged, he still felt guilty and was avoiding her. The most contact between them being when he had dragged her to Hershell. He shook his head at T-Dog and made his way to the house.

Carl stood and frowned in confusion at Phoenix as she slowly stood.

"What's wrong with you?" He asked curiously. She glanced down at him and walked away. Her hands itched, she needed to end the poor child's suffering for her mother's sake and the group's. It would destroy Hershell's trust in the group but to hell with that. Living with walkers less than 100 feet of them.

That wasn't going to fly.

"Maggie. Hey, Maggie, just talk to me. Hey. Maggie." Glenn panted as he rushed after the girl, who finally paused and turned towards him.

"Give me your hat." She held her hand out to him. "You said talk to you, I'm talking to you - Give me your hat." Maggie said quietly as Glenn handed her his hat before taking one of the eggs in the basket and placing it into the hat. Glenn looked puzzled for a moment before Maggie forcibly pushed the egg filled hat onto his ebony locks, the broken egg running down his face.

"Why would you waste an egg like that?" He gasped flicking egg off his forehead.

"I think it was rotten." Maggie snapped as she walked away.

"Egg is good for ya hair Glenn. At least you'll have the best hair around here for a while." Phoenix chuckled as she glanced over her shoulder, continuing her way towards the farmhouse before spotting Carol sneaking around near the stables and heading, out of sheer curiosity, in that direction instead.

"You can't!" Phoenix heard Carol call out as she peered round the stable door.

"I'm fine." Daryl puffed out as he lifted a saddle down off the rack.

"Hershell said you need to heal."

"Yeah, I don't care."

"Well, I do. Phoenix does too." Daryl's eyes flicked to the red head at the stable door before focusing back on the saddle. "Rick's going out later to follow the trail."

"Yeah well, I ain't gonna sit around and do nothing. Besides Rick can't track for shit."

"Seriously Dixon?! You that pig headed that ye can't see ye need t' heal!? Ye really think I'd let Rick go out without me?" Phoenix snapped, her accent changing to a slight Irish lilt, as she entered fully, standing behind Carol and giving him a look.

"Now ya talkin' t'me? Huh?" He spat in her direction before scoffing. "Mind ya own fucking business!"

"No, you're gonna go out there and get yourself hurt even worse! We don't know if we're gonna find her, Daryl." Daryl paused and glanced at the grey-haired woman in shock. He couldn't believe he was hearing this from her mouth. "We don't. I don't."

"What?"

"Carol....." Phoenix breathed in disbelief before glancing at Daryl.

"Can't lose you too."

Daryl threw the saddle in anger before clutching his side groaning. Carol rushed to his side and reached out to help but was brushed off. "Are you all right?"

"Just leave me be. Stupid bitch." He growled harshly as he limped away. Phoenix wrapped her arm around Carol's shoulders and smiled weakly.

"He's just sore and upset Carol like a bear with a hangover. Just ignore him."

"I know. Just wish he understood...." Carol said quietly, slipping out of the embrace and leaving the Brit to stand in the empty stable with her thoughts.

"Come on in."

"A little light reading for lunch?" Rick asked, glancing at the bible beside the vet's plate.

"Been working so hard lately I get my study in where I can." Hershell sighed, placing a bookmark into the holy book before gently setting it down on the table beside his plate.

"You know we can help you out with your work."

"It's my field to tend." Hershell said quietly.

"We found the barn."

"Leave it be." Hershell said, his eyes not leaving the page.

"Well, I'd like to talk about it, but either way... your barn, your farm, your say."

"I don't want to talk about the barn. I don't want to debate." The man said finally looking up at Rick.

"Not a debate, a discussion." Rick reasoned quietly.

"I need you and your group gone by the end of the week."

Rick sighed heavily.

"I talked to Dale. You and I have our differences with the way we look at the walkers. Those people, they may be dead, they may be alive. But my people, us, we are alive right now, right here, right in front of you. You send us out there and that could change."

"I've given you safe harbor. My conscience is clear."

"This farm..." Rick pleaded as he sat down. "This farm is special. You've been shielded from what's been going on out there. Dale said you saw everything happen on the news. Well, it's been... It's been a long time since the cameras stopped rolling." Hershell stood and walked away and Rick rushed after him to continue his plea.

"The first time I saw a walker it was just half a body snapping at me from the ground. My inclination wasn't to kill it. But what the world is out there isn't what you saw on TV. It is much much worse and it changes you. Either into one of them or something a lot less than the person you were. Please do not... do not send us out there again."

"My wife's pregnant."

Hershell turned away from the window to look at Rick in shock. "That's either a gift here or a death sentence out there. If we were to stay we could help you with the work, with securing this place. We can survive together."

"Rick, I'm telling you we can't."

"You think about what you're doing."

"I've thought about it." Hershell yelled.

"Think about it."

"I've thought about it."

"Think about it again. We can't go out there." Rick said as he left the building. Hershell glanced up at Maggie, who turned away from her father.

"He's right ya know." Phoenix sighed, stepping round the doorframe.

"Miss Black. What do I owe the pleasure?" Hershell said quietly, standing and entering the kitchen. Phoenix followed slowly and looked at the old vet in quiet confusion. "Ah... The same as Rick no doubt."

"There's a great deal of shit I've done in the past. You and I both know it. But this...." She scoffed, following as the man left the building. "Why keep it secret? Ya could've told us from the get go"

"We all keep secrets do we not? You have yours.... You have them to keep you safe... From your group... from Rick and Shane... I did the same."

"Mr Greene we ain't gonna go in there guns akimbo! This is your land and we'd of respected your decision." She spoke quietly, figuring that yelling would do no good.

"Not all of you..." The girl nodded and sighed. "You are a woman of faith. I believe those people are sick and that God will deliver them into health again. Have you lost your faith? Do you not have any hope left at seeing the men you wish again?"

"Faith is a fragile thing these days..."

"My offer still stands, regardless of whether your group finds out your secret. This isn't up for discussion anymore. This is my land. Its been in my family for generations."

"Mr Greene.... There are dead men walking in your barn. And one way or another... This fucking shit is gonna end real badly."

"The same will happen if your group find out your secret. I'm asking you not to act so I don't have to Amelia..." Hershell said quietly, raising himself to his full height and staring the girl down.

"If that is a threat, think about your decision sir. Some things need to stay in the dark..." She said quietly before turning away.

"And some find glory in the light." Hershell said after her, returning to his work. Phoenix bowed her head and walked off slowly towards camp.

Neither noticed a figure step out of the shadows and fold their arms, shocked and a little confused about what they had just heard.

"You're a complete bastard ya know that right?"

Daryl glanced up at the feisty girl in front of him and scoffed. "Don't ignore me arsehole. I'll put ya on ya back and beat some sense into ya."

"Yea, like to see ya try. Better yet, fuck off away from me." He growled deeply, his eyes daring her to even lay a single finger on him.

"Dixon.... What you said to Carol was outta line! When someone is loosing hope like that... You're supposed to make them find it again. Not blow up at them and hurt yaself!"

"She's given up... Ain't nothin' gonna change her mind now." He sighed defeatedly. Phoenix crouched down in front of him and lifted his chin to look at her, ignoring his flinch. She smiled sadly at him before nodding slightly.

"Then maybe... Its up to you to find something to give her that hope again. Anything to give her that little glimmer of light in the dark." Her eyes flicked down at the dried flower near his feet before patting his knee and walking away.

Daryl stood and sighed, watching as she walked towards Beth, who nodded eagerly at her.

"Go get your cap. I'll wash it for you, okay?" Maggie said as she pulled dales hat off his head.

"Do you know what's going on?" T-Dog asked as he walked up to the porch.

"Where is everyone?" Andrea questioned as she walked beside T-Dog.

"You haven't seen Rick?" Glenn asked the pair.

"He went off with Hershel. We were supposed to leave a couple hours ago." Andrea replied softly.

"Yeah you were. What the hell?" Daryl said as he and Carol joined the group around the farm house stoop.

"Rick told us he was going out." Carol puffed quietly, slightly out of breath from trying to keep up with Daryl's long strides.

"Dammit. Ain't anybody taking this seriously? We got us a damn trail." Daryl snapped, waving his arm in the direction of where he'd found the doll a few days ago. "Oh, here we go."

Daryl walked up to Shane as the man walked towards the collective members of the group with the gun bat slung over his right shoulder. "What's all this?"

"You with me, man?" Shane asked, holding out a shot gun to the redneck. "Phoenix?"

"Yeah." Daryl replied, glancing at the Brit as she takes a gun out from the waistband of her pants and twirling it around her finger, as he took the offered shotgun. Shane nodded before turning to the rest of the group.

"Ya had that all this time?" Daryl asked, cocking his head at the girl, who smirks in reply.

"Time to grow up. You already got yours?" Shane said to Andrea over his shoulder as he passed by her.

"Yeah." She said back quickly "Where's Dale?"

"He's on his way."

"Thought we couldn't carry." T-Dog said confused as a handgun was placed into his palm.

"We can and we have to. Look, it was one thing sitting around here picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe. But now we know it ain't." Shane said pacing in front of the stunned group before turning to Glenn. "How about you, man? You gonna protect yours?" Glenn glanced at Maggie before taking the shotgun from Shane.

"That's it. Can you shoot?" Shane questioned the elder farmer's daughter.

"Can you stop? You do this, you hand out these gun, my dad will make you leave tonight." Maggie snapped, glaring at the angry man.

"We have to stay, Shane." Carl spoke up as he walked towards his angry uncle.

"What is this?" Lori queried as she exited the house and stomped towards the group.

"We ain't going anywhere, okay? Now look, Hershell, he's just gotta understand. Okay? He... Well, he's gonna have to. Now we need to find Sophia. Am I right?" Shane whispered as he kneeled down in front of Carl.

"Huh? Now I want you to take this. You take it, Carl, and you keep your mother safe. You do whatever it takes. You know how. Go on, take the gun and do it."

Lori pushed Carl behind her quickly and snarled down at the man for daring to drag her son into the madness.

"Rick said no guns. This is not your call. This is not your decision to make."

"Oh shit." T-Dog exclaimed, his gaze drawn to the edge of the forest and the sight of Jimmy taunting a walker being controlled by a leash. The group all turned and gasped.

"What is that? What is that?" Shane panted as he took off running towards the trio with walkers on poles got closer to the barn.

"Shane!" Lori yelled after him as she and the rest of the group followed him.

"What the hell are you doing?" He yelled bursting though the rusted gate.

"Shane, just back off." Rick yelled as he corralled the walker he was controlling away from Jimmy.

"Why do your people have guns?" Hershell snapped, his glare going to the Brit, who lowered her guns and slipped them back into their place.

"Are you kidding me? You see? You see what they're holding onto?" Shane gestured towards the walkers in disgust.

"I see who I'm holding onto." Hershell stated, his face a stony mask.

"No, man, you don't." Shane growled angrily, dodging the walkers outreaching fingers as Jimmy ducked away from the others.

"Shane, just let us do this and then we can talk."

"What you want to talk about, Rick? These things ain't sick! They're not people! They're dead! Ain't gonna feel nothing for them 'cause all they do, they kill! These things right here, they're the things that killed Amy. They killed Otis! They're gonna kill all of us!"

"Shane, shut up!" Rick yelled over the growls and hisses.

"Hey, Hershell man, let me ask you something." He asked as he pulled his gun from his waistband and checked the chamber. "Could a living breathing person, could they walk away from this?" Shane hissed before shooting the walker in the stomach. Phoenix flinched at the noise and glanced at the rattling chain as Shane pumped 3 shots into the chest of the walker.

"No! Stop it!" Rick snapped as he grit his teeth.

"That's three rounds in the chest! Could someone who's alive, could they just take that?! Why is it still coming?" The angry man shot again and again.

"That's its heart, its lungs. Why is it still coming?" Shane shot another round from his clip into the walker.

"Shane, enough."

"Yeah, you're right, man. That is enough." Shane took the final shot and ended the walker, Hershell dropped the leash and paled. "Enough risking our lives for a little girl who's gone!" Phoenix glanced away from the barn at Shane's words, causing T-Dog to give her a questioning look.

"Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to kill us!"

"Enough!" Rick snarled, his grip on the catch pole sliding slightly.

"Rick, it ain't like it was before! Now if y'all want to live, if you want to survive, you got to fight for it! I'm talking about fighting right here, right now."

Shane smashed open the barn doors and backed off quickly as a group of the undead stumbled out.

"Take the snare pole. Hershell, take the snare pole. Hershell, listen to me, man, please. Take it now. Hershell! Take it!" Rick pleaded as Hershell stared at the guns pointed towards his friends and family.

"No, Shane. Do not do this, brother."

"Wait! Don't do it!" Glenn yelled.

"Rick!" Lori shrieked.

"Please!"

Shane ignored everyone's yelling and broke the lock on the doors with a pick axe before throwing them open.

"Come on. Come on, we're out here." Shane taunted, backing away slowly from the barn doors.

"This is not the way!"

"Please!" Beth cried out as Patricia wrapped her arms around the girl.

"Get behind me." Lori whispered, shoving Carl behind her and trying to shield him.

"Come on."

The walkers scrambled and growled towards the group. Phoenix bowed her head as Daryl gave her a glance before raising his gun and taking aim. Tears fell silently down her cheeks as she knew what was about to happen.

Something she could have warned the group about.

"Maggie." Glenn whispered to the young woman, who was clutching her stunned father as tears flowed down her face too.

"It's okay." Maggie whispered and nodded at Glenn who raised his own shotgun.

"Stay back!" Rick yelled over the shots as Lori pulled Carl to the ground and hugged him tightly.

The group panted as the barn doors slowly creaked and a lone figure appeared, blinking at the sudden change in lighting.

"Sophia?" Carol sobbed, rushing towards the barn to her daughter before Daryl grabbed hold of her around the waist as she collapsed to the ground. "Sophia! Oh no. Sophia. Sophia. No!"

Lori grabbed onto Carl and pulled him tighter against her as her heart broke for the other mother of the group. Carl sobbed as he stared at his friend's corpse stumbled towards the group. Rick pulled his gun out slowly and aimed at the little girl's head. Silence over took the land as a single shit was heard.

"Don't watch." Daryl whispered to Carol as she sobbed.

"Sophia!" Carol wailed as Phoenix turned and ran before her body had even hit the ground.

#phoenixbwrites #fera ingris #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #twd #walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #walking saints #daryl x oc #daryl x phoenix #the walking dead daryl #boondock saints fanfiction #connor macmanus #boondock saints fanfic #walking saints fanfic #twd x bds

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fandomsaremykryponite · 4 months

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May I ask you some questions about your writing process for your Boondock Saints, The Walking Dead crossover? I’m curious how you approached something that you knew was going to be a long huge story that would take forever to write. Did you plot everything out from the beginning to end? And do you schedule yourself to write a goal each day?

Hi @livingdeadblondequeen

Thanks for the ask! I really like this one.

Tbh, I don’t think I have a real writing process. When I first came up with my fic series, it was really just for fun bc I thought it would be interesting to imagine how things would be affected if the Saints were in TWD. Then, I decided to write my own series and it just exploded from there. It’s kinda the same thing with all my stories (that I’m still working on before I post). Adding my OC was basically me jumping in to the story as well bc why shouldn’t I have fun in all this? Lol.

As for the plot as a whole, it’s kind’ve a mix between plotting everything out and winging it. I did download a timeline app on my iPad specifically to track major stuff through the series as a whole. Specifically figuring out exactly how long each season lasted (timeline wise, not the show’s runtime). Like how long from the virus’s initial outbreak to when Rick was left behind in the hospital, where would all my characters go, who died when and where (and maybe how if the idea comes to me). Since as many of you have probably already read, there are several characters that I’ve kept alive who (at the point of my series) should already be dead. For a few of them, they’re still going to die, but I wanted to give them, I guess, better deaths?? It’s hard to explain as it’s been a while since I’ve actually looked at my story timeline.

Though, I’m gonna go back and make a bunch of new ones later one that follow the rest of the series that I haven’t gotten to yet. Hell, I still don’t entirely know how to finish off the last season. I know what I want, but I need to watch the last season to really see how it ended before I figure out how to work my way there. Though, that probably won’t be until much later. I’m still on season 4 of TWD, which isn’t new information since that’s where I’ve been since I first finished writing season 3 (part 6 which is currently being posted) like almost 2 years ago I wanna say??

If you’re interested in what stories I’m writing, I think I actually wrote it all out in a post long time ago. However, I have made additional stories that I’d like to post one day. Though, it won’t be until I’ve written up to certain points for each story. I like having a bunch already written out so that I have breathing room before I need to write more in case I let myself get caught up writing other stuff (like I am now lol).

As for your last question… I don’t really set a schedule. I just write when I wanna write whenever I can write (which was a lot of times now that I think about it). I don’t set a goal either. I don’t like adding unnecessary pressure that I don’t need. I write because I had a fun story idea that I wanted to make. I share my story online because I thought that there might be others who would enjoy it. And there had been bc I’ve been receiving nothing but love since I first started posting and have always appreciated the support and adored the comments that readers would leave in AO3.

Thanks again for the ask! I really enjoyed this one. If you have any other questions, please feel free to reach out! I love chatting with you all!

Thank you for reading my fic series this far. I hope you continue to enjoy reading my fic series as I have been writing them.

#thanks for the ask!#answered asks #boondock saints fanfic #boondock saints fanfiction #murphy macmanus x reader x connor macmanus #author ramblings #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction

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autocon23 · 1 year

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Just Keep Swimming (That’s How The Song Went, Right?) - Chapter 42 - AutoCon23 - The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms [Archive of Our Own]

New chapter!!

Enjoy!!

Taglist:

@phoenixblack89 @lilythemadqueen @archerangel @twdeadfanfic @littlegodzilla @fandom-cuties @livingdeadblondequeen

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stellar-waves · 23 days

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staring down the sun [art - 8]

He slowly sews her palm, closing the ugly gash that had marred her soft skin.

“You think it messed up my life-line there?” Elena jokes, yet her voice is still supple.

[ Connor + Elena // and by morning we'll be free ]

. . .

#boondock saints fanfic #connor macmanus x oc #illustrated moments #connor macmanus #sean patrick flanery #boondock saints #the boondock saints #illustration #art #fanart #fanfic #staring down the sun #staring down the sun art

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somedaylazysomeday · 1 year

Text

Na Buachaillí - Part One

Murphy MacManus x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Murphy is a late-night patron in the diner where you work and the two of you (eventually) hit it off.

Rating: Explicit, lemon, etc. Minors, DNI!

Word Count: 6,800

Warnings: modern AU, references to tipsiness/drunkenness, bad flirting, language, references to money problems, oral sex (female receiving), protected piv sex.

Next | Masterlist

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Your coworker Bianca nudged you with her elbow. “Look,” she urged.

You followed the gesture with your eyes, looking through the door of the dish room, past the near-empty dining room, and out through the window. A smile curved your lips at the sight of the fluffy white clumps falling impossibly slowly, illuminated by one of the streetlights in the neighborhood. This wasn’t a nice section of Boston by any means, but a blanket of snow hid the faded paint and cracked sidewalks. And there was something homey about being in a cozy diner as the snow fell outside, knowing it was only a few days until Christmas.

“It’s very pretty,” you agreed.

Bianca - who preferred to be called Bee - snorted. “Don’t you mean he’s very pretty?”

You blinked, only then realizing that Bee had been gesturing at the only party in the diner that night… well, morning. It was a little after one a.m. and the pair of customers were the only ones you had. They had arrived a while before, but you hadn’t taken the time to really look at them.

They were sitting in a booth on the far side of the bar, chatting easily with their elbows hanging over the exposed cooking surface beside them. (The building had clearly started life as a Waffle House, no matter how much the current owner tried to deny it.) The man on the left had wildly curly hair and a short beard, and was wearing a pair of sunglasses. The combination kept you from seeing much of his appearance.

With that in mind, the man on the right had to be the one Bee was talking about. His dark hair was cut short and his eyes were light, dancing around the diner’s interior as he spoke expressively to his companion. There was a tiny mark above his lip, drawing your attention to his bright smile, made even brighter by the dark stubble surrounding it.

Bee made an expectant sound and you shrugged. “I’d think he was prettier if he wasn’t drunk.”

She scoffed. “Drunk? He looks tipsy at most.”

“Close enough.”

“You think there’s something wrong with everyone,” Bee complained. “C’mon, you need to have some fun every now and then or you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack! Go take his order.”

“You already took their order, Bee,” you reminded her. “They just wanted some coffee and to look at the menu.”

“So?” she asked. “Go see if they’ve decided on something.”

You gestured at the sink in front of you. You were elbow-deep in sudsy water as you worked on the mountain of dishes that accumulated from the late-night rush. It had ended hours before, but you and Bee had both been avoiding them. “I’m a little busy right now. Unless you’d rather I leave the dishes for you?”

She snorted, shaking her head. Thankfully, she left you in peace and went to check on the pair. You couldn’t hear much of their conversation over the sound of the dishes in the sink, but you heard Bee clearly when she returned to the door of the dish room.

“We missed one,” she told you, nodding toward the cooking area. There was a plate sitting beside the cooktop. You vaguely remembered setting it down there during the rush. Bee gave you an apologetic look. “Do you mind if I step outside for a smoke?”

You wanted to ask her to grab the plate first, or accuse her of trying to get you to interact with the customers, but the desperation in her voice made you agree. She slipped out through the back door to the restaurant as you dried your hands. You retrieved the plate without incident, the two men locked in conversation, but you were stopped on your way back to the dish room.

“Hey!” one of the men called. It could have been either of them - with your back turned, there was no way of knowing which had spoken.

You huffed a quiet sigh before you turned around. This shift couldn’t end soon enough. Nevertheless, you walked over to the small booth they were sharing. When you got there, you smiled. “What do you need?”

The one with the longer hair snickered, covering his eyes like your question had been too funny to bear. Your smile veered toward a grimace, but you managed to keep it together long enough to fool the man Bee had been admiring. Apparently, he had been the one who called for you after all.

“Hey, darlin’,” he purred. If it wasn’t for the smell of alcohol hanging around him - even if, according to Bee, he was only tipsy - his voice would have been extremely pleasant with its rolling accent. It managed to be halfway pleasant anyway.

Your smile was so fake it felt almost painful on your face, but you kept it steady. “Yes?”

“Do ye- wait. Are ye Irish?”

That fake smile slipped. “Uh… no. No, I’m not Irish.”

“Do ye wanna be?” he asked, leaning toward you with an inviting grin.

Your smile was gone completely as you tried to work through what he was saying. “Are you trying to adopt me?”

Now, he was frowning, too. With a blearily befuddled look at his friend, he said, “No, I- I meant- What was it?”

His friend had slumped down against the wooden bench seat, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. You shook your head and turned away. “Why don’t I get you some water?”

When you want to retrieve a glass of water, you heard the unmistakable sound of someone being hit. “Th’ fuck didja tell me tae say that fer?”

“‘Do you have any Irish in you’,” the friend told him, laughing aloud. “Then when she says no, you ask her if she wants some.”

“If she- Fuck, Roc! I jus’ wanted tae flirt wit’ a pretty lass, not give her a fuckin’ riddle!”

‘Roc’ was laughing too hard to respond. The Irishman continued berating his friend. “Dis is why Doc kicked us outta the pub tonight.”

“He kicked us out because you kept pokin’ fun at him,” Roc corrected. “I can’t believe your brother missed you makin’ such an asshole outta yourself! Where is he, anyway?”

“Had tae work late tonight,” the unnamed flirt replied. “Who th’fuck works late dis close tae Christmas?”

You were coming back with his water now, and the silence fell heavy and awkward. The red of your polo shirt felt so bright, you wouldn’t be surprised to find that it had started to glow under the cheap fluorescent lights. You set the water down with a sickly smile.

Your admirer looked half-sick himself. “Lass, I didn’t-”

“It’s fine,” you brushed off. “Christmas is an expensive time of year, you know?”

Of course, that wasn’t why you were currently working four part-time and temporary jobs, but these two strangers didn’t need to know that.

You retreated to the dish room, finishing the stack and draining the water without any further interruptions. Just as you were starting to wonder where Bee was, she ducked back inside, accompanied by a wash of cold air.

Any snippy comment you may have made was cut short by the look of concern on her face. Her cell phone was pressed to her ear. “I’m so sorry, hon, I’m on the phone with Jalen.”

Jalen was Bee’s son. You didn’t remember exactly how old he was, but he wasn’t a teenager yet. For him to be awake so late at night was concerning.

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

Bee grimaced. “I guess we’ll see. I just need a few more minutes.”

“Take your time,” you urged her. “I’ll cover things in here.”

She offered a stressed smile and let the door close behind her.

You grabbed the pot of coffee from behind the counter and went over to the men once more, filling their mugs. The wannabe flirt took the opportunity to say, “Sorry if I offended ye earlier, lass. I didn’t mean anyt’ing by it.”

“It’s fine,” you agreed by rote. “No harm done.”

“My name’s Murphy,” he offered. “This is Rocco.”

You gave your name in return, though it was prominently displayed on the white plastic nametag pinned to your shirt.

“Mind if we hang out a while longer?” Rocco asked. “Looks cold as shit out there and I wanna finish soberin’ up before I try to get through that.”

That made sense to you, though walking home drunk through this neighborhood was dangerous for reasons other than weather. “Yeah, stay as long as you need. Hang on, I’ll get you some more water.”

You kept their glasses and mugs filled, and the steady supply of water and strong coffee seemed to drive them toward full alertness. Rocco turned out to be funny and quick-witted, though his friend was no slouch in either area. Murphy’s main trait seemed to be a keen sense of awareness. His light eyes had continued to sharpen as the evening wore on, studying your every move and taking in every expression.

“What’s a smart chick like you doing, workin’ in a place like this?” Rocco asked at one point.

You shrugged. “Everyone needs to make ends meet somehow.”

“Better’n what ye do, Roc,” Murphy fired back. You lifted your eyebrows at him, silently asking exactly what it was that Rocco did, but neither of them answered. Instead, Murphy told you about his job at one of the nearby meat packing plants.

At some point, Bee had returned. Jalen had a nightmare and needed to be talked down. Bee had done that, but also sent her boyfriend over so Jalen wasn’t alone for the night. You had offered to cover for her, but Bee had refused, saying that she needed the money from this shift for Christmas presents. Rocco and Murphy had listened in shamelessly, Murphy commenting that he had suffered from nightmares as a child and Rocco offering to stay and cover her shift himself.

Murphy had laughed at that. “I’ve never seen ye so much as make a piece’a toast, Roc!”

His insult and Rocco’s responding outrage had made everyone laugh. Another bit of your earlier wariness of the pair was chipped away just by the way the tension melted from Bee’s shoulders.

By the time Rocco stretched and stood up, you felt like you were almost friends with the pair and were reluctant to see them go. It was quite a difference from how you had felt only an hour before. You ran Rocco’s faded debit card at the register and watched him scrawl a signature on the receipt before digging a few crumpled bills from his pocket. To your surprise, he separated them into two piles.

“Somethin’ for each of you, huh?” he asked, eyes bouncing back and forth between you and Bee. “Isn’t much, but, ya know… Happy holidays and all’a that shit.”

“Thank you, Rocco,” you murmured, looking down at the tip. It was hard to see exactly how much it was with the way the bills were balled up, but it was clearly generous. Since you were busy at the register, you pushed both stacks toward Bee, who gathered it up and stared.

She had obviously come to the same conclusion you had, but Bee expressed her thanks by rounding the bar and throwing her arms around Rocco. He looked embarrassed but pleased, patting her on the back and muttering about how it was nothing.

You took advantage of the clamor to lean in beside Murphy. He glanced up at you, eyes widening with surprise to see you so close. “Do you want me to get your bill together, too?”

Those blue eyes wandered across your face for a moment before he shook his head. “T’ink I might stick around a while, if it’s fine wit’ ye.”

“That’s fine,” you agreed with a shrug and a smile that felt a little too bright given the innocence of the conversation. You glanced away from Murphy, suddenly shy, and caught sight of Rocco and Bee grinning at you. Feeling more than a little foolish, you retreated back to the dish room, feeling eyes on you all the way there.

Murphy was flirting with you, wasn’t he? It had been so long that you honestly struggled to tell. Your soon-to-be ex-husband hadn’t been much for flirting. Paul hadn’t been much for you, honestly. Though ever since you had told him you wanted a divorce, he had been acting like you two had been the perfect couple until you had ruined it.

You sighed, rubbing between your brows. Talking with Murphy was fun and simple. Did you really need more justification than that? Maybe it could be reason enough for the night.

“Okay, I’m leaving!” Rocco called. You came back out of the back room, wiping your hands on your apron like you had been doing anything more than staring introspectively at a stain on the wall.

“Bye!” you replied. “It was nice to meet you.”

“Back at’cha,” he told you, pointing his finger like a gun. “Catch ya later, Murph.”

Murphy said something in a language you didn’t understand, but it still managed to sound crass. Your suspicion was confirmed when Rocco barked out a loud laugh as he left the diner. He crossed the parking lot and disappeared around the corner of a building in only moments.

Bee stepped out of the back door to answer a call from her boyfriend. You and Murphy were left almost alone in the diner. You refilled his coffee and poured the rest down the sink before setting to work making a new pot. Murphy left his place in the booth and slid onto one of the ancient barstools across from you.

“What made ye want t’ live in Boston?” he asked.

You lifted a brow. “Do I not seem like the type?”

“Nah,” he rejected immediately. “Most of th’ people who live here were born here or ain’t got any other choice. This part of th’ city, anyway.”

It almost seemed like you should try to defend Boston. It wasn’t a bad city, really. You actually loved parts of it, but it certainly hadn’t been your first choice of place to live. “My husband got a job here. This part of the city is all we could afford at first. Then he got… uh, laid off, and we never left.”

Of course, Paul’s layoff had been due more to his alcoholism than the needs of the law firm, but that didn’t matter to the stranger… or to you. Not anymore. After years of trying to support you both on the salary of a high school science teacher, you had finally pushed for divorce. You would be free soon enough.

Murphy had stiffened slightly at your mention of your husband. When he spoke, his voice was deceptively even, but you had seen the way his eyes had flown to your hands. “Ye’re married, then?”

“Technically speaking, yes,” you confirmed, though you didn’t make any effort to hide the lack of a ring on your finger. “But only until the divorce papers go through.”

“Ah, sorry tae hear dat,” Murphy said. To his credit, it did sound like he was making an effort to sound sorry.

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

Now it was Murphy’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “That so? I take it the partin’ was yer idea, den. He didn’t… He didn’t hit ye, did he?”

The growing anger in his voice was something of a surprise, but you were quick to shut it down. “No, he never touched me.” Rather than give any further explanation, you cleared your throat. “And what about you?”

“I’m not married,” Murphy told you immediately.

“Good to know,” you replied, hiding a smile. “But I meant, why did you choose to live in Boston?”

“Oh,” he said, a slight redness rising in his cheeks. It was adorable, and you felt yourself warming to him even further. “It was th’ first place me an’ me brother came when we got tae the States. Never found a good reason tae leave.”

“It was just you and your brother?” you asked. When he nodded, you added, “How old were you when you came here?”

“Seventeen,” Murphy said. “T’is why we work in the meat-packing plant. The manager was th’ only one who’d give two kids a chance tae earn some cash. Never saw a good reason tae leave there, either.”

“Loyalty is a big thing for you, isn’t it?”

Murphy blinked at you, looking surprised, but a slow smile spread over his handsome face. “Now, how’d ye guess dat, lass? Just from what I told ye? Ye’re a sharp one.”

“It’s too early in the morning for flattery,” you told him, trying to hide how his compliment had affected you.

“It’s never too early in th’ mornin’ fer flattery,” he replied. “‘Sides, I don’t know that ye can call three ‘mornin’. More like late, late evenin’.”

“Three?” you repeated, glancing at your watch. It was about ten minutes until three, but that was closer than you would have guessed.

“What is it?” Murphy asked. “Do ye turn into a pumpkin at three?”

“Not quite.” You couldn’t help but smile at his teasing even as you flew to finish up the last of your work. “I’m done at three.”

“Are ye plannin’ to drive in dis mess?” He gestured through the windows. The snow was starting to pile up, the icy wind whipping it into drifts.

“I don’t have a car.” You glanced back outside. “It’ll just be a really cold walk.”

“So late?” Murphy asked, sounding even less happy. “Do ye need someone tae walk ye home? I’d be happy t’ do it.”

You paused, thinking it over. Something about the earnest expression on his face told you he wasn’t angling for a night in your bed. He really just wanted to see you home safely. Unreasonably warmed by that, you nodded. “That would be great, thanks.”

He beamed at you and you smiled back and gestured at the dish room. “I need to tell Bee I’m headed out.”

You tapped lightly on the back door and peeked out to find Bee standing there with her phone clutched to her chest. She looked like she was near tears. “Bee? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, it really, really is,” she said. “I told Franklin about the tip Rocco left us. We can afford to get Jalen that game he wanted for Christmas now. I’m so happy!”

You pulled her into a hug as a few tears rolled down her cheeks. She pulled away after a minute, fishing in her pocket. “I forgot, here’s your half. You’ve spent half the night in the dish room and I didn’t want to leave it out there in case someone else came in and helped themselves.”

You shook your head, holding your hands up and away. “You keep it, Bee. I’m all set.”

She protested, naturally, but you stood firm. Your lawyer bills would still be around after the holidays, but Bee only had a few more days to get her shopping done. She eventually accepted, wiping at her face and unlocking her phone. “At least let me call you a ride home. It’s late and cold, and I hate to think of you walking back by yourself…”

“Actually,” you admitted slowly. “Murphy is going to walk me home.”

Bee paused. “Are you sure about that?”

“I think I can take one drunk Irishman, Bee,” you huffed playfully.

Her grin was instant and dirty. “Yeah, but what if it turns into a fight?”

You rolled your eyes, but she wasn’t having it. “C’mon, I’m just teasing. I’m happy for you! I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at him tonight. You deserve some fun, hon.”

“I can’t figure it out,” you said, laughing. “Are you worried about me or encouraging me to sleep with the guy? I’m getting mixed signals here.”

“That depends on you,” Bee countered. “Do you get creep vibes or do you think he’s one-night-stand material?”

You pulled the door open a little wider to glance out at the dining room. Murphy was stirring his coffee over and over, staring down into it as the fingers of his free hand drummed nervously on the counter. He glanced out at the snow before looking back to catch your eye. He smiled at you and you returned it without hesitation.

“Definitely no creep vibes,” you told her. “I think I might go for it.”

“Good,” Bee said firmly. “You need to forget about Paul for a night. Who better to forget him with than a sexy Irishman?”

You laughed despite yourself as your phone’s alarm went off. Stripping off your apron, you told her, “I’ll keep that in mind, Bee. Thanks.”

Bee patted you on the shoulder and you both went back into the warmth of the diner.

Murphy was standing at the register and Bee waved you off when you went to ring him up. You grabbed your coat instead, sliding it on as you glanced around the diner. “Do you need me to hang out for a while? It looks like the next shift isn’t here yet.”

“It’s fine, Josh is on his way,” she brushed off. Murphy went to get his own coat and Bee leaned in to whisper, “Do you have condoms?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” you shut down immediately, smiling to soften it as you walked out from behind the counter.

“Don’t forget to text me with an update!” Bee called after you.

Murphy followed you out of the restaurant. After you had both caught your breath after being exposed to the sharpness of the cold air, Murphy asked, “What are ye supposed tae update her on?”

“How you are in bed,” you replied, glancing at him in askance to gauge his reaction.

A slow smile spread across his handsome face, leaving him with an expression of mingled delight and heat. “Yeah? Is that th’ plan fer tonight?”

“That was a joke,” you hedged, half avoiding the question until you could build up your bravery. “She just wants to make sure you don’t end up murdering me.”

The look on his face turned to abject shock and horror in a moment. “I wouldnae- I’d never! ‘Course, why would ye believe me?A murderer would say that...” You grinned at him and he relaxed slightly, though you noticed he had subtly increased the distance between you. “Tell ye what: I’ll jus’ be walkin’ over here, hands in me pockets.”

“Your pockets?” you echoed with an exaggerated look of terror. “That’s not safe! I don’t know what you could have in your pockets.”

“Not in me pockets, den,” Murphy agreed instantly, pulling his hands free of the pockets of his thick black peacoat. You watched him wince with the cold and a surge of guilt overtook you.

“I’m sorry, that was another joke,” you protested. “I trust you. Put your hands back in your pockets or they’ll freeze out here.”

“Weren’t raised tae make a lady feel unsafe,” Murphy shrugged off. He flipped his hand over so you could see the way his fingers were starting to get pale. “But if ye really want, ye could help me keep ‘em warm.”

Your smile was so wide it made your cheeks sting in the cold, but you took his hand. You walked down the street in the hush of a snowy Boston night, Murphy walking beside you as you led the way to your apartment building.

At one point, he fished in his pocket with his free hand, pulling it back out to hold up a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Do ye mind if I-?”

“I have a sensitivity to the smoke, sorry,” you told him, pulling an apologetic face. “But that’s my building up there. I can go ahead if you want to..?”

You trailed off, unsure of how to finish the offer. ‘Go ahead home’? ‘Catch up when you’re done’?

It didn’t matter, though. Murphy shook his head, tucking the cigarettes back in his pocket. “Nah, tis okay. Probably shouldn’t. ‘Sides, th’ cold air has me lungs fucked near sideways.”

“Sideways?” you repeat faux-horrified. “Then maybe you should come inside. I don’t want anyone’s lungs to get fucked at all, but especially not sideways.”

A dirty little smile crossed Murphy’s face, but he asked, “Are ye sure?”

“As long as you’re not going to murder me or give me an STD, I’m sure.”

“No STDs, no murder,” Murphy promised, tipping his head toward the apartment building you had pointed out. “Lead on, then.”

Kissing someone in an elevator was a cliche you would have liked to avoid, but as soon as you were in a more familiar location, your confidence surged and you needed to know how Murphy tasted.

The answer turned out to be ‘mainly like coffee’, though you did catch an edge of alcohol and a hint of smoke. You were able to ignore everything but the coffee, distracted as you were when Murphy swept his tongue between your lips and set about thoroughly exploring your mouth.

When the elevator arrived at your floor, you didn’t hear the doors open the first time, not until they made an angry-sounding buzz. You reluctantly unfisted your hands from the thick warmth of Murphy’s coat and led him out into the hallway.

The apartment building you had ended up in wasn’t particularly nice, but nice enough that you didn’t have to worry about getting stabbed, which was more than you could have said about the place you had shared with Paul.

Still, after you had draped you and Murphy’s coats over the back of a chair, you didn’t need to do much more than point to give him a tour of the space. “Kitchen, pantry, bathroom, coat closet, bedroom.”

Murphy eyed each section politely, but you were keenly aware of the fact that his eyes sharpened at the mention of your bedroom. You were just as eager, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you nodded toward the door in question. “Do you mind if we skip to the-?”

“Please,” Murphy asked, a rough edge to his voice.

You led the way, but he certainly wasn’t far behind you. Looking back on it, you weren’t sure when you had gone from only considering sleeping with Murphy to being desperate to do exactly that, but you were certainly there. As soon as the door closed behind you, your hands flew to the closures of your clothing. Murphy was doing the same next to you.

You pulled your shirt away and unfastened your pants, leaving the material to puddle at your feet. As you reached back to unhook your bra, a harsh groan drew your attention. You glanced over to find Murphy’s eyes traveling hungrily over your body.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, lass,” he growled, paused with his shirt long gone and his pants unbuttoned.

“Same,” you informed him, letting yourself stare at his bare torso and the way his graceful, tattooed fingers looked poised on the sections of his pants.

Murphy grinned at you, though there was something sharp about the expression. In a moment, he had shucked off his pants and turned his attention to ‘helping’ you. In reality, his hands running over your skin - and the sight of him fully unclothed - were a massive distraction and it took you several tries to unfasten your bra.

He took charge of removing your underwear, drawing them down your legs so slowly that you were ready to scream by the time he was done. His fingertips trailed over every curve and dip of your muscles, then danced back up to your hips as he stared up at you from his place kneeling on the floor.

“Lay down fer me, darlin’,” he urged, using his grip on you to slow your descent when your trembling knees would have given out. “Been waitin’ fer this all night.”

Instead, you perched on the edge of the bed, watching with fascination and a swell of nerves as he drew his hands back down the length of your thighs, ending at your knees. Gently, he pushed them apart and you fought him for a moment.

Having sex with him was one thing, but this felt… intimate, far more so than you had expected. Still, you were determined to see this through. After all, you had lived in the same city as Murphy for years and you had never met him before that night. If things ended badly here, it would be easy to avoid seeing him again.

You leaned back further, letting your knees part for him. Murphy murmured praises as he spread you wide, studying the place between your legs. The kiss in the elevator had left you distinctly interested, even if you weren’t quite to the point of wetness yet.

Murphy leaned closer and closer, gently spreading your folds with his thumbs before darting his tongue from your entrance to the top of your slit. You jerked under him, legs instinctively trying to close around him as your hips canted to offer yourself more freely. Most embarrassing of all, the simple act had pulled a hearty groan from you.

He chuckled, still close enough that you felt the air from it on your heated core. “Sensitive, aren’t ye, lass?”

“It’s been…” You frowned, trying to remember the last time someone had done this for you. “At least a few years.”

“Years?” Murphy asked, sounding horrified. His face lifted far enough up that you could see him clearly. “Years?”

You nodded, fighting the urge to hide your face from him. ��Paul - my almost ex - didn’t like it. He said it was too… wet.”

“Did he ask ye tae suck him off?” Murphy asked, sounding irritated.

“Yeah, but he said it was easier,” you explained. “You can just pull away at the end and avoid the worst of it.”

“Miserable fucker,” Murphy grumbled. “Well, some of us think it ain’t a chore. Matter o’ fact… I think ye taste pretty damn sweet. Lemme make ye feel good.”

You opened your mouth to respond - maybe to assure him he didn’t need to do that or to offer a simple ‘thank you’ - but the words were never formed. Instead, that breath left in a tortured whine as he teased your clit with the tip of his tongue before sinking as much as the muscle as possible into your heat.

You were too absorbed in the sensations to focus much on your own reaction, but your spine arced up off the mattress as you tried to grind your pelvis against Murphy’s face. He chuckled again, his hands tightening around your hips to keep you pinned in place as he buried himself further within your folds. His tongue teased your entrance as his nose pressed against your clit.

If someone asked, you wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint exactly when you’d buried your hands in his thick hair, trying desperately to urge him on as you squirmed against his mouth. Murphy pulled away, but only far enough to sink a finger into your heat while he explored the rest of you with a series of long, slow licks. He hadn’t been lying about enjoying this. In fact, he almost seemed to be… savoring you.

It was overwhelming, the pleasure sweeping through you so intensely that every muscle was trembling and a litany of sounds and pleas were spilling from you. You were fairly certain your neighbors would know Murphy’s name by the end of things.

When your orgasm came, it hit with the suddenness of an explosion, whipping through your body and mind simultaneously and leaving nothing but sheer desolation in its wake. You shook and spasmed and moaned under the continuous onslaught of Murphy’s mouth until you somehow gathered the strength to push his head away from the juncture of your thighs.

“Ye okay, there?” Murphy asked, grinning at you over the curve of your tummy.

You were speechless, having noticed that Murphy licked his lips eagerly before wiping his mouth on his arm to remove everything that was out of his tongue’s reach.

“I think…” you trailed, surprised at how wrecked your voice sounded. You had been moaning, not screaming, but you couldn’t have proven that verbally. “I think I may have died for a minute at the end.”

“Aye, lass,” Murphy agreed with a self-satisfied look. “Ye did make it sound like I was killin’ ye.”

“The best possible death,” you assured him, struggling to sit up. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for that.” His face was serious as he sat on the edge of the bed beside you. “Ye deserve tae have someone take care o’ ye as much as ye take care of them.”

You couldn’t hold his sincere gaze for long, but dropping your eyes away from his face let you catch a glimpse of him. He was hard, his length straining toward you. A slow smile spread before you could bite it back. “By that logic, I should take care of you now.”

The original intention had been to touch him, though your exact plan had been anywhere from wrapping your fingers around him to straddling him. However, the aftershocks of your orgasm left you less steady than you had expected, and Murphy didn’t miss the way you swayed slightly just from the effort of sitting up on the bed.

His responding smile was wicked. “Looks like yer legs are still a little shaky, lass. Why don’t’cha let me take care o’ ye?”

He pressed a kiss to your mouth, though you noticed he didn’t part his lips until your tongue urged him to do so. The taste of you was still strong in his mouth, but you found it wasn’t overwhelming. Honestly, you could taste the coffee he had been downing at the diner more than anything else.

When the kiss broke, it was only so Murphy could rummage in the pocket of his discarded pants and pull out a small packet. He had the condom on in only moments before he returned to you again.

“Ye may want tae move up th’ bed there, lass,” he warned with mischief glittering in his eyes. “If ye t’ink ye can make it that far…”

You pursed your lips to fight back a smile and flipped over to crawl up the bed, losing the battle against a grin when Murphy groaned. Of course, that may have been the effect of the little wiggle of your hips you had sent his way, but it was flattering nonetheless.

A hand on your ankle made you pause and glance back over your shoulder. Murphy’s eyes were dark with want. “That’s perfect. Turn over fer me, darlin’.”

You did exactly that, letting your legs open with ease this time. Your mattress was cheap and small, but when the weight of Murphy settling on top of you pressed you harder against its surface, it felt like absolute heaven.

His hips rested between your thighs like it was the most natural thing in the world and your legs instinctively wrapped around him. That left his length brushing between the swollen lips of your sex, his head barely catching on your clit, and your legs tightened involuntary, drawing him against you.

Murphy groaned, but it held more than a hint of a chuckle as well. “I know, lass, I know. But ye’ll have tae give me a bit o’ space so’s I can…”

He pulled away slightly, only just enough to draw his hips back and notch his head against your entrance. The feeling of him there - so close to where you ached - made your muscles clench again, and you weren’t sure whether it was him or you who prompted that first thrust into you.

Either way, he drove forward in a series of shallow pulses, edging himself deeper and deeper inside of you until he was fully seated in your core. You both took a moment at that point, foreheads pressed together as you breathed through the tension.

The fact that you’d already come helped, but it had been so long since you experienced this… and Murphy was far from small. Your inner muscles throbbed, tightening and relaxing in waves so strong they almost mimicked your earlier orgasm. Your body seemed on the fence about whether it should try to push Murphy out or draw him deeper inside you, and you both balanced on that edge for a span of time that seemed to stretch infinitely.

Finally, the gripping of your core slowed, leaving you almost desperate for him to start moving. Your hands - one wrapped behind his back, one locked around his shoulder - tightened, desperation pressing your nails into his skin. “Murphy-”

“Ye’re so tight, lass,” he told you, voice tense. “Don’t want ter hurt ye.”

“Please, Murph,” you said, on the verge of begging. “I need you to move. Please.”

That final, half-shattered plea seemed to spur him into motion. His hips pulled backward, the motion so startling that your legs fell from their spot around his waist. Your feet braced against the mattress instead, which gave you the perfect leverage to press your hips upward as you met his thrust back into your core.

You both groaned at the feeling, but Murphy didn’t let it overwhelm him. Instead, he set an almost frantic rhythm. You bounced and jolted under him, struggling to breathe through the driving force of him inside of you. Every bit of air you did manage to breathe was let out on a moan of his name.

His lips were traveling over your face and down your neck as he continued to steal your ability to think. He kissed and licked and sucked his way to your chest, eventually wrapping his lips around one of your nipples. You arched your back for him, whimpering, “Murphy!”

You could feel him smiling around the sensitive point of your breast, and he slowed his hips until it felt like he was stroking through your very center, drawing pleasure from you with every thrust. It was lovely, though nothing that would push you into another orgasm without some help.

“Ye close, lass?” Murphy asked, breaking away from your skin to murmur the question.

After a moment of consideration, you found that the answer was ‘maybe’. You told him, “I could be.”

“I won’t last much longer, meself,” he admitted.

You nodded, letting your hips drop back to the mattress as you snaked a hand between yourself and Murphy. Your fingers found your clit and began to move the same way they did when you needed to bring yourself to orgasm. Even the familiar sensations made your head kick back, elevated to new heights by what Murphy added to the experience.

“I’m-” you started, attempting to warn him that you were ready at any moment, but his hips snapped against you as he buried himself deep inside your core. His face tightened, then slackened into a perfect portrait of someone drowning in open-mouthed pleasure.

A combination of the view and the feeling of him jerking inside and on top of you sent you over the edge, strengthening the practiced motions of your fingertips.

This orgasm was calm, almost hypnotic after the fervor of the last one. The pleasure was slow and rippling as it washed over you and left you feeling impossibly light and peaceful. The warm air of your room was a spring breeze and the sheets tangled beneath you were the swells on the surface of a lake.

As Murphy gave a little chuckle from his place collapsed on top of you, you couldn’t help but smile. Since when had sex made you so poetic?

He withdrew from you carefully, though the dragging of him against your walls was eased by the wetness of two consecutive orgasms. Your channel clenched once, twice around nothing after he was gone, feeling empty after having grown accustomed to being stretched.

You shuddered and Murphy paused a moment before he wrapped an arm around you and drew you into his side. For a moment you stiffened. Besides the fact that you were both covered in sweat, this felt more intimate than you had expected for a one-night stand. Even after realizing that, though, you let him do it.

The closeness was comforting, especially since he was warm and still managed to smell good after all of that. You cuddled closer against his side, resting your head on his shoulder while you both eased down from the high of being together. His eyes were closed, and you let yours drift shut as well. You had been tired from the day itself, let alone the extracurricular activities you had gotten up to.

Besides, you would need some time to figure out how to tell Murphy that you had to work in a few hours.

---

Author's Note - Okay, disclaimers before anyone gets too upset with me. First, the only reason this is a modern AU is so I don't have to worry about looking up every little thing that may or may not have been around in the 1990s.

Second, I know Murphy's dialogue is written in dialect. If that bothers you, I'll go ahead and warn you that tomorrow's chapter is written the same way. As for how I got to the dialect I did, I binge-watched the first two seasons of Derry Girls and went from there.

Thanks for reading! The second chapter will be out tomorrow!

I don't offer a taglist for explicit fics, but you can find other works on my masterlist!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2023 #fanficfebruary #the boondock saints #the boondock saints fanfiction #murphy macmanus #murphy macmanus x reader #murphy macmanus x you #reader insert #reader insert fic #lemon #not suitable for minors #minors dni

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theteasetwrites · 2 years

Text

Thy Saints Surrounded

Chapter 7: Mo Shíorghrá

❧ Pairing: Murphy MacManus x Female Reader ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—fingering, loss of virginity, missionary, swearing ❧ Word Count: 5.8k

❧ In This Chapter: Another night at the bar, except tonight is the night you make things... official with Murphy.

❧ A/N: You really thought I was gonna not use this gif for the first smutty chapter of this series? That would have been criminal. Anyway, here's some smut. Idk what else to say. It's smut. Murphy is cute/hot. You know the drill. Chapter title is pronounced muh-heer-grah, by the way.

Friday nights at McGinty’s were busy, you had found after only a few weeks of waiting tables there. Not as busy as St. Patrick’s Day, Doc had assured you, but busy enough to have you on your feet at all hours of the night shift.

What’s more, you still were somewhat lost when it came to the subject of alcohol. New customers would come in and ask about some type of beer you’d never heard of before, and in your inexperience, you’d have to say something along the lines of: “Well, I know we have Guinness.”

At least most regulars did, indeed, order a pint of Guinness, and that made your job much easier. Murphy always ordered a pint of Guinness, so somehow that became your go-to suggestion. Murphy liked it, so it must’ve been good, you figured.

There weren’t many nights Murphy didn’t spend at the pub, as long as he knew you were working. In fact, the MacManus brothers were somewhat akin to your personal chauffeur, driving you to the pub and staying there until the end of your shift to take you home. You could’ve easily walked, but the boys (mostly Murphy) were insistent.

South Boston was getting to be a dangerous place since Shannon was murdered, and he was paranoid of something bad happening to you, too. That, and he got a kick out of watching you waitress, that cute frame of yours bumbling about the smoky pub and serving drinks you had no idea the taste of.

And on rowdy Friday nights such as this, it was good to keep his eye on you, in case one of the drunken patrons got a little handsy or rude.

“He’s got it bad,” laughed Rocco, watching in amusement at Murphy’s infatuation. “You gotta pop that cherry, man. Christ, I think I saw you droolin’ for a second there.”

“Shut it,” he said. He didn’t take his eyes away from you, entranced but your beauty.

You could feel his eyes on you, and it wasn’t threatening or disconcerting at all. Rather, it was comforting, knowing he was there for you, and incredibly intoxicating, knowing he was sitting across the bar undressing you with his eyes, probably imagining something sweet and dirty and deliciously “sinful.”

You’d meet his gaze periodically, flashing him “fuck me eyes,” as Shannon, God rest her soul, would’ve said. And, oh, how you wanted him. He didn’t know it, but he was teasing you these last few weeks, constantly ending your innocent, unassuming dates with progressively more and more passionate kisses that had steadily escalated to groping.

One night, you swore you almost had an orgasm just from his hand rubbing outside your jeans. He, too, ended each night with a rather noticeable problem in his pants, causing him to clumsily adjust his crotch as he left your apartment to climb into the passenger seat of Connor’s car, where his twin was waiting for him.

“Fuck ‘er yet?” he asked that night.

“Fuck you,” Murphy replied. “And no. Woulda been in there a lot longer if I did, I’d hope.”

Connor had still believed wholeheartedly that all Murphy needed was to lose his virginity to you, to get over you after it happened so he could focus on their divine calling, whatever it was.

He hadn’t warmed up to you much since you’d begun dating his brother, and you were sure he hated you. In truth, Connor was conflicted. He wanted his brother to be happy, but he was also concerned that you weren’t good for him—a distraction keeping him from the greatness he was destined to achieve.

Destiny, in fact, was incredibly important to Connor. Less so to Murphy, who thought in smaller pictures and simpler terms. Of course, he believed in fate. He believed you were meant for each other, that God had created two souls in perfect harmony with one another, and that was a bigger kind of destiny than whatever “greatness” Connor believed was in store.

“I’m out of here,” slurred Connor in his drunken state. Drink was the only thing keeping him able to withstand Murphy’s displays of affection for you. He lifted himself clumsily from the bar stool, nearly knocking it over.

“You can’t leave,” protested Murphy. “Need your car to get (Y/N) home.”

He fished the keys out of his pocket and slammed them on the bar before Murphy. “There. I’ll walk. Don’t want to spend another minute with ya like this.”

“Like what?” Murphy asked, raising his voice above the chatter of the crowded bar in offense.

“Like a fool,” he scoffed. “A damn love struck fool, that’s what you are, Murph. Grow up.”

The only thing keeping him from yelling back was you, now approaching the bar to prepare the next order. Connor seemed disappointed, not at your presence, but at Murphy’s refusal to retaliate, as he always had. He was changing, because of you. He was growing up, but not in the way Connor wanted.

“Hi guys,” you said with a smile, bending over behind the bar to retrieve the bottle of vodka you needed to prepare the last patron’s drinks. “Think it’s slowing down now, huh?”

Connor rubbed his face and nodded, and you could tell something more tense than usual was in the air between the three of you. There was the usual sexual tension between you and Murphy, the brotherly quarrel between Murphy and Connor, and the suspicion with a tinge of jealousy Connor had towards you.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m, uh… I’m leaving.”

You frowned and moved your gaze to Murphy. “You leaving too?”

He shook his head as he took a drag of his cigarette. “I’m leaving when you’re leaving, love. Connor’s just a bit tired. Can’t hold his booze anymore, ya know.”

Murphy flashed a nasty, devious smirk at Connor, who simply scoffed at the remark, but it was Murphy’s way of getting back at Connor for calling him a fool, so he supposed it was warranted.

“See ya’s later,” said Connor, and a flurry of goodbyes resounded from the other regulars who knew him well.

The night continued rather uneventfully, with only a few skirmishes Murphy was quick to break up, assuming the unofficial role of security guard (mostly in an attempt to impress you).

Rocco was the last to leave, and, as usual, Murphy all but forced Doc to leave his own pub, insisting that you and him would close the bar for the night.

“You just wanted to get me alone, huh?” you laughed, feeling his hands resting upon your waist as he held you from behind.

“Is that so bad?” he asked. He nudged his head against yours, taking in a deep whiff of your intoxicating scent before kissing your cheek, tonguing at your skin with impatient fervor.

You sighed and tried to focus on the task at hand: wiping down the table that Murphy had you pinned against as he showered you with affection.

“Murphy,” you giggled. “I’m still on the clock.”

“Yeah, but Doc doesn’t know what we’re doin’,” he whispered in your ear. “You got any idea how fuckin’ beautiful you are, lass? Seriously, it’s like you’re from another planet.”

You snorted and shook your head, turning it to face him. “So I’m an alien now, hm?”

He smirked and leaned in to kiss your lips, and soon, somehow, he had you sitting on that table, your legs wrapped tight around his to keep his body as close to you as possible. You felt the familiarity of his hardening in between your legs, and as he kissed you, you felt a surge of electricity pulse through you.

“Murphy…” you whispered, though his lips caught yours again, massaging them and suckling them demandingly. “Murph… Mm, Murphy.”

He smiled against your lips at your repetition. “Love it when you say my name,” he said. “So fucking sexy…” He rubbed your thighs up and down, hiking up the skirt of your button-up dress with each pass of his warm, strong hands.

He peeked just a little at your pure white panties, pristine and virginal, just like you—and him, too. His tongue jutted out to lick his lips, and wriggled back and forth along the edge of his slightly agape mouth. You watched in lustful amusement at the wettening of his lips, pink and glossy from the coating of his saliva. How you wanted those lips to go where they hadn’t gone before, where no lips had ever gone before.

“I love your knickers,” he whispered in your ear. “Like to get them real wet… Soak ‘em. Maybe keep ‘em for myself… Never wash ‘em. Remind me of you.”

“Oh,” you laughed over his shoulder. “You’re a dirty, dirty boy, Murphy… So dirty… I thought you were a good Catholic boy?”

“Only when I wanna be,” he mumbled against your hair, eyes closed and mouth agape in utter ecstasy as the skin of his cheek grazed your soft tresses. “You tempt me into sin, mo shíorghrá.”

You sighed and giggled rather girlishly at whatever he had said to you in what you were sure must’ve been Irish, given just how natural it sounded on his lips.

“What does that mean, Irishman?” you cooed sweetly.

His hazy eyes met yours, and his face turned sheepish when he realized the meaning of what he said. “Means ‘my eternal love.’”

It was the first time you’d heard him say the infamous L word. At least, in reference to you. It took you by surprise, especially since you’d only been dating for about a month, give or take. You supposed you’d known him longer, but it still all felt so new, so unfamiliar, but exciting.

You were sure that you loved him, that the fact that he constantly occupied your mind proved it, and that being with him was unlike any experience you ever had. It was carefree, simple, and beautiful in every way. You loved him, but it didn’t come to the forefront of your mind until now.

“Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat and loosening his body from your grip. “I, uh… I got carried away.”

Oh no, you thought. He didn’t mean it.

Even if he didn’t mean it, you had to hear it again, that sweet sound in his voice. Knowing what it meant now, you wanted to hear it even more. “Can you say it again?” you asked. “Please?”

He fell silent, but sunk his body back into yours until he was situated snugly between your legs, dangling from the high table.

He looked you dead in the eye now, and you swore you saw the corner of his lip curl in that mischievous smirk of his. “Mo shíorghrá,” he said. “You like that?”

“I love it,” you said. “I, um… I love you, Murphy.”

He’d dreamed you’d say those words to him, and before he met you, for so long all he wanted was someone to come along and say that to him the way you just did, with so much truth and purity. Maybe he was a hopeless romantic, but he always knew he’d give himself to someone he loved, that she would have his heart, body, and soul completely. Someone who loved him back, now that was even better.

“You mean that?” he asked, the tickle of his fingers grazing your neck as he swept back your hair. His eyes almost seemed to water, becoming glassy with moisture.

Is he crying? you wondered. God, he’s precious.

“Mhm,” you hummed with a laugh. “I love you… Is this too soon?”

“No,” he replied immediately. “No, not at all. Actually, I… Well, I think I’ve loved you a long time. Since I first saw you. Was like Cupid slung an arrow into my ass.”

“Really?” you asked. Rosy cheeks bulged on your face as you beamed at the revelation. “Why did you wait so long to talk to me, Murphy?”

He shrugged as he asked himself that question, too. “Never been great with girls,” he said. “They like Connor, usually. Not me. Was worried I’d just make a fool of myself… Connor thinks I’m a fool anyway.”

His head lowered, and you reached up to hold his chin to bring his eyes back up to yours. “Why?”

“Because I love you… Am I a fool, lass?”

You shook your head. “If you’re a fool,” you said, “then I’m a fool, too. We can be fools together.”

His smile faded slowly, like the sun sinking gradually beneath the horizon, giving way to darkness, or in this case, an intense look of desire that rivaled anything you’d seen from him before. It was impatient and hungry, but still loving and sweet.

He licked his lips again, wandering his gaze over your body. Your button-up dress was low-cut enough to hint at the junction between your breasts, and the more he looked at you, the more he found himself wanting, needing, to free you from the confines of your cloth prison.

“Murphy,” you sighed. “What is it?”

“Say it again,” he said. “Tell me you love me.”

Your legs tightened around him as if on their own accord, and your arms brought him closer until you could feel his warm, heavy breath upon your skin. Somehow you’d worked up a sweat sitting in that stuffy bar, or maybe it was just from the heat of Murphy’s body so close to yours.

“I love you,” you whispered into his ear just before kissing gently below his lobe.

“Again.”

His fingers were slowly climbing up and down your sides as the space between you became nonexistent, your cores aligned perfectly. Any sudden movements on your part and you might’ve made him lose all control, but the risk was invigorating. Murphy had no idea what he was doing, as usual when he touched you, all he knew was that he liked it, and that you liked it.

You liked it so much you threw your head back, and Murphy quickly seized the opportunity to latch his lips just below your jawline, sucking at your supple skin to make a mark that would surely be visible by morning.

“I love you, Murphy,” you sighed up to the ceiling, or maybe to the Heavens. “I love you… I love you… I love you.”

“I love you,” he repeated against your lips now. “Mo shíorghrá… Sono pazzo di te… J’ai besoin de vous…”

You giggled as he voraciously attacked your lips, speaking in whatever language he pleased between kisses, though never taking his lips far from yours.

“Murphy,” you mumbled. “I can’t understand you.”

His lips tore from yours in a fit of passion, and with shaky hands he held your heated cheeks, looking you dead in the eyes once more. They were blackened, narrowed more than usual. He had a severe need in him, more potent than ever before. You felt it, too, like a fire raging in your lower abdomen, electricity pulsing wildly in your core. Just looking at him reminded you of the small puddle of moisture in your panties, making you wonder if he really wanted them.

“Can I take your virginity?” he asked bluntly. Nuance was beyond him now, he could only speak in the simplest of terms.

There wasn’t any question in your mind: you wanted him to be your first, your last, your always.

“Yes,” you said. “But, um… Here?”

He shrugged and broke out into a smirk, a dangerous smirk. Dangerously handsome, of course. You weren’t entirely sure you could survive the trip to your apartment, and you certainly weren’t going to lose your virginity at his apartment, just a few feet from his twin brother.

“Why not?” he asked playfully. “Got the place to ourselves. Beds are overrated… Just need a rubber…” He patted his pockets, but he knew he didn’t have any condoms. “Shit!”

You perked up and jumped off the table, much to Murphy’s confusion. “Where ya goin’?” he asked.

“I have condoms,” you said excitedly, rummaging through your purse behind the bar.

Murphy raised an eyebrow and smirked, walking closer to you with a mischievous swagger.

“You expectin’ something, lass?”

You held the orange wrapper awkwardly in your hand, as if unsure of what to do with it. In truth, you sort of were.

“No… I mean, I don’t know. I just thought, since we’re seeing each other…”

Before you knew it, he was pinning you against the bar, lifting your legs up to wrap around his waist. You reached your arms behind you to prop yourself up on the bar as his lips devoured you once more.

“Condom,” you laughed against his ear. “Put on that condom, Murph. Let’s be each other’s firsts.”

He swallowed hard as his nerves got to him. He was terrified of doing something wrong, but more than that, he was desperate to feel something so right.

He took the condom from your fingertips, stepping back and almost knocking over the liquor cabinet behind him. He held it almost as awkwardly as you did, and looked up to you for guidance.

“So, uh… What do you want me to do?”

You laughed and shrugged bashfully. “Well, maybe you should take your shirt off, and then I’ll take off mine.”

Sweet Jesus, he thought. Every fantasy he ever had was about to come to life right in front of his very eyes. He knew then that God was real.

“Okay,” he said. He cleared his throat before setting the condom aside, then reached for the hem of his shirt to strip it from his body.

You’d seen him shirtless, but, God, was it beautiful now especially.

“Your turn,” he said.

It was then you remembered you were, in fact, in a dress. Shit.

“Um… okay.”

You started at the top, unbuttoning the first button on your dress before you could pull it over your head. Murphy’s hand appeared in your line of vision moments later, helping you unbutton the last few buttons that you needed.

He must’ve been impatient as he reached down to pull your dress over your head with a sudden burst of confidence. He might’ve been nervous, but he was sure he’d go crazy if he went another moment without seeing your body in all its glory.

Now he stood before you between your legs, shirtless but still with his lower half clad in light wash jeans. Returning the favor, you undressed him this time, your hands coming dangerously close to his crotch as you unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans.

They fell with a thud, and now you were equal, barely clad in anything but your undergarments.

He moved to kiss you again, and tentatively moved his hands to feel your breasts underneath your bra, and never before had you felt so suffocated by that garment.

“Take it off,” you mumbled into his mouth. “Take off my bra.”

After fumbling with the clasp, he stripped your chest, and the supple flesh that greeted him was beautiful beyond his comprehension. Your nipples hardened with the immediate exposure to the air, and the way they bounced with your movement as you reached forward to touch his waist was mesmerizing, to say the least.

His mouth hung open slightly as his eyes glued to your nipples, in awe of their perfection. They looked just like they did in the magazines, only better because they were yours, and different. The same, but different.

“Wow,” he said under his breath. “You’re so beautiful… They’re beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you said shyly, though you had a focus trained on his boxers, tight enough to see the outline of what must’ve been his genitalia. If you weren’t mistaken, his cock was hard, begging to be released.

“Let’s take ‘em off at the same time, yeah?” he asked.

You wriggled your panties off, as he stripped himself of his boxers, and the both of you froze in time for a few moments to take in each other’s nude forms. Murphy was a man, that was for sure. A man with a cock you couldn’t take your eyes away from.

He reached for the condom and tore it from the wrapper, and rather clumsily applied the object to his erect penis.

“Does this look right?” he asked you, as if you knew the answer.

You smiled and tilted your head as you studied his cock. “Hm… I think so. Are you ready, baby?”

Your voice quivered as you spoke, despite how confident you tried to sound. Of course, you were confident that you wanted this, but nervous nevertheless.

He moved with a grunt and took a hold of you again, once more throwing your legs around his waist. He kissed every square inch of your face, and reached down to touch your pussy, that coveted artifact he’d dreamt of so many times.

“Ohhh!” you exclaimed into his mouth. Even just his fingers grazing your clit was powerful enough to send the beginnings of shockwaves through your body.

He pulled his hand away momentarily, but you quickly guided it back. “Touch me,” you panted against his ear. “Just like that… My… My clit.” You guided his fingers to that little bundle of nerves you were no stranger to, and he watched intently to see the anatomy of your body, as if taking notes.

He held you tight with his other arm, but it wasn’t enough to keep you from jolting at the pressure of his clumsy fingers.

“Murphy,” you laughed. “Oh, that’s so good.”

You watched his fingers rubbing you, getting slowly more confident with each pass over your clit. Still, you couldn’t help but admire his cock, hard and sticking up on end, with the most precious bulbous tip throbbing and reddened.

“You want it?” he asked as he rubbed you. “Touch it… Please.”

With the hand that wasn’t touching you, he guided your fingers along the shaft until you were rubbing him, and both of you were on the verge of your orgasms, you especially.

“Oh, oh… K-keep going.”

Your hips thrust hard against his palm, and with another swirl of his fingers, you melted into a cascade of intense pulses, throwing you over the edge into utter bliss. It wasn’t that you hadn't felt an orgasm before, you’d felt it from your own fingers, but this was different, more pleasurable because it was his doing. His fingers were inexperienced and clumsy, but they were his.

“Murphy,” you moaned. “Murphy! Oh, yes, Murphy!”

“I love you,” he said. “Did that feel good?”

You laughed and brought him in for another sweet kiss, soaking his lips with your saliva. “So good,” you said.

Despite your iron grip on his broad shoulders, he backed away with his cock in his hands, eying your glistening pussy as it still pulsed ever so slightly from your orgasm.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “That looks so good.”

You arched your back and nearly purred in arousal at the look on his face, all at once devious and blinded by lust.

Your legs widened further on the bar, and you beckoned him forward with your finger. “Come on, big boy,” you teased. “Get in here.”

It took a great deal of willpower, that Murphy usually did not have, not to slam into you, going as deep as he could before breaking you in. For all his ignorance of sex and the opposite gender, he knew women needed to go slow their first time, and he loved you too much to ever hurt you, especially not during such a magical, intimate moment.

Your face was buried in the crook of his shoulder as his tip entered the shallow end of your entrance, and both of you became immensely aware of your tightness.

“Let me know if you need me to stop,” he whispered clearly in your ear. “I don’t wanna hurt you, love.”

You kissed his neck before trailing your lips over his jawline and onto his cheek. “Deeper,” you simply said.

He happily obliged, slowly inching further into you. He clung tightly to your back, trying with so much might not to come in a matter of seconds, but the feeling he’d never felt before—the warmth, the squeeze of your fleshy walls, the tightness consuming him, the gentle twitching of your canal as you made room for him—was so intense, so hard to ignore.

“Mmm,” he groaned. “(Y/N)… Feels so good.”

You winced in slight pain at the feeling of snapping as he ventured further, and a sensation almost akin to burning appeared. Still, knowing he was inside of you was such a wonderful idea, and that was enough to have you moaning his name right back.

“Murphy,” you groaned into his neck. “You’re in me, baby… Mmm, you’re in me.” You laughed deliriously, causing him to break out into an adorable fit of boyish giggles.

“I know,” he said, and planted a kiss upon your shoulder. “You’re so tight, love. Can I move inside ya?”

“Yes,” you said. “Just go slow at first, okay?”

He nodded and held you closer as he thrusted gently, feeling his cock bury deeper inside of your increasingly wet pussy.

“Ohhh….” he moaned. “Fuck…”

The snapping feeling in your pussy gradually became less intense with each pass, his cock effectively stretching you out to match his girth. Pain gave way to pleasure, and you rocked back against him, allowing his cock even deeper until he reached your hilt.

“So deep,” he groaned.

“Faster,” you said. “Fuck me, Murphy.”

He swallowed hard before beginning to thrust harder, moving back and forth in your pussy as his hips flexed and jerked to get himself off inside you.

You found yourself leaning back on the counter, laying yourself down to get a look at him as he rammed into you, faster and more desperate with each heavy thrust.

He watched your chest bouncing, then reached out to massage the tissue with each strong, steady hand.

“Christ,” he mumbled. “You got the body of an angel.”

You laughed as you wriggled under his hands. “Mmm, Murphy… I love your cock in me, baby.”

“I—I’m gonna come.”

His body jolted almost violently, thrusting wildly into you as his face strained and his eyes fluttered as if he was in daze, and perhaps he was. The best orgasm of his life pulsed through his cock, causing it to twitch inside of you rapidly as he unleashed a flow of opaque white liquid into the condom’s reservoir.

He let out several strained whimpers which melted into blissful moans of relief. His eyes opened hazily as he finished unloading, and he broke out into a delirious smile when his sight met yours.

“I love you,” he laughed.

You reached up to grasp his cheeks, pulling him down to meet your prone body on the counter. His lips crashed onto yours as you held him tight to your chest. “I love you, too, sweet boy.”

He buried his head in the crook of your shoulder where he doused you in kisses and lovebites for minutes on end, and when he moved, you noticed the feeling of his softening cock still inside you. It felt heavenly, but you tickled his back to get his attention.

“You’re still in me, silly,” you laughed. “You can’t stay here all night.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “Why can’t I? I like it in here. Might just move in permanently. How much is the rent?”

“Free for you,” you said. “But you can pay in kisses if you’re so inclined.”

“Kisses, eh?” He firmly pressed his lips to your cheeks, and dotted sweet little pecks all over the rest of your face as you squirmed beneath him. You broke out into raucous giggles, intertwined with half-hearted shouts of his name every time his stubble grazed your soft skin.

“You like my kisses, mo shíorghrá?”

You rolled your eyes, as you knew he knew the answer to that question, but his cockiness had once again risen to the surface. You couldn’t say you didn’t love it, though.

“I love them, Murphy. Everything you do makes me indescribably happy… I’ve never felt this good in my whole life.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” he said. “Think God made us for each other.”

You tilted your head and raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh, yeah? He did, did he? Well, who am I to argue with the almighty creator of the universe?”

You weren’t entirely sure how you both managed to fall asleep on the bar, you two practically on top of each other as you held on for dear life to the other’s sweaty, naked body.

It was only when the morning came, sunlight rather rudely awakening you as it shone through the tinted windows of the pub, that you realized how terribly unsanitary it was to have sex on a bar.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, causing Murphy to stir and rub his eyes as he awoke.

“Maidin mhaith, cailín álainn,” he yawned, stretching his arms dramatically over his head. He folded his hands behind his head as he watched your naked figure fumble about for your clothes. “I think you should keep your clothes off, love. Quite like you like this.”

You smiled at him as you pulled your panties up your legs. He bit his lip, eyes hazily wandering about the five or so hickies he’d left on your chest and neck. He was immensely proud of himself, and you were sure you could get used to this cocky side of him.

“I think we’ve spent enough time naked in here,” you said. “We’ve got to clean this bar. I think Doc keeps the sanitizing spray down here.” You bent down to search under the bar, while Murphy busied himself with gathering his own clothes.

“He’ll never know, lass,” he assured you. He seemed to pick up on your stress as you sprayed frantically and wiped down the counter with great pressure and speed. “Our little secret, hm?”

You felt his lips on your neck again, his tongue jutting out to lick the sensitive hickies on your skin. “Look what I did to ya,” he said. “Hope it didn’t hurt.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” you sighed. “I like it… Reminds me of what we did last night… Did you like it?”

“Fuck yeah,” he said. “Like to do it again… Real, real soon…”

His hands trailed up your abdomen to grasp at your breasts, still bare and hardened from exposure to the early morning air permeating in the stuffy bar.

“Not here,” you laughed. “Already broke so many health codes. My place next time.”

“When’s next time?”

You turned around in his arms and pecked his lips in amusement at his impatience. “Tonight?” you asked. “I don’t think I could go much longer than that… I already miss feeling you inside me.”

He raised an eyebrow as his gaze moved down to your panties, slightly stained from how much you’d soaked them last night.

“Can I keep these?” he asked.

Your eyes widened. “What? You were serious about that?”

“Mhm,” he hummed with a smirk. “Little souvenir… If that’s okay?”

“Well, I’m going to have to leave here without any underwear under my dress…”

“Oh well.”

Murphy dropped you off that morning, walking you home in the dim early morning light through the still quiet streets of South Boston. Despite how tired he was, he walked with a spring in his step towards his apartment, eager to brag to Connor about his accomplishment.

“Rise and shine, you eejit!” he shouted joyously as the elevator doors opened to reveal the fifth floor loft. He stepped through the threshold of the apartment, removing his black peacoat and hanging his coveted rosary on the hook by the door all the while. “You’re not gonna believe the night I’ve had, Connor. Me and (Y/N)... Man, it was amazing. I mean, it was a little awkward ‘cause we both didn’t know what we were doin’, but she was a goddess. And we’re gonna do it again to—”

He finally turned himself around to face Connor’s bed, where the older twin was holding a large ice pack on his forehead. He had been beaten senseless, cut and bruised and covered in dirt, perhaps even a footprint or two.

“Jesus Christ,” muttered Murphy, eyes wide and lips agape in concern. “Fuck, what happened to you?”

He huffed and tried to sit up straight. “Also had a hell of a night… Though I think you had more fun than me.”

Concern melted quickly into hot, molten rage at the sight of his brother in this state, beaten and hardly able to move without wincing in pain. “Who the fuck did this?”

“Murph—”

“Nah, who the fuck did this, Connor?!”

He shook his head before giving into Murphy’s demand. “Tony and his little mafia friends… Mighta been able to take ‘em if I wasn’t outnumbered. He had five guys, including that big fella. The bodyguard.”

“I’m gonna kill that bastard.” Murphy paced in circles around the one-room apartment, running his fingers through his hair and nearly panting in rage. “We gotta do somethin’, Con. This kinda shit is what got…” He trailed off as memories flooded back, memories of a time he’d rather forget. “You know…”

“I know,” he said. “Trust me, I know.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Murphy huffed. “This is my fault. Shoulda been with you.”

Connor shook his head. “Nah, nah. I was being an asshole, and you shoulda been with (Y/N). She loves you.”

Murphy lowered his head, almost bashfully. “I know she does,” he said. “And if Tony’s out here doing shit like this to you, what if he comes after her next? Shit, I wouldn’t be at all shocked if he was the one who killed Shannon.”

Connor perked up, intrigued by the mystery. “You think so?”

Murphy pieced together the puzzle in his head, then cursed himself for being so blind. “Of course! He didn’t do it himself, he had some mafioso do it. Sent him to the coffee shop when he knew (Y/N) was working, but she wasn’t there. She was with me still, back at the station. Christ, he wanted to kill (Y/N) but he got Shannon instead!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Connor. “Slow your roll, all right? No need to start spewing conspiracy theories.”

“This is not a theory, it’s real,” he insisted. “And I’m getting to the bottom of it. Right now.”

Murphy put on his coat about as quickly as he’d taken it off, along with his rosary and a swiftness in his step.

“Goddamnit, Murphy.”

Connor reluctantly lifted himself from the bed, with great strain on his injured body, and slipped on a shirt before catching up to him, determined to make sure he didn’t get himself in more trouble than he was already surely in.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

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#murphy macmanus x you #murphy macmanus fanfiction #murphy macmanus fanfic #murphy macmanus x reader #murphy macmanus #the boondock saints fanfiction #the boondock saints fanfic #the boondock saints #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus

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minervadashwood · 2 years

Text

Writing an Irish accent.

I was researching this for Reasons, and thought I should share it.

===

Murphy Support Group

@green-eyedladywrites @livingdeadblondequeen @darylspissslit @phoenixblack89 @littlegodzilla

#boondock saints #fanfiction #boondock saints fanfic #murphy macmanus #connor macmanus

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livingdeadblondequeen · 1 year

Note

Hi there, I was just wondering if you were still writing? if you are, what are you writing?

Hello!

Yes, I am still writing. I am just slower than a turtle walking through peanut butter. I have a handful of WIPs, mostly Daryl/Reader but I am attempting to write a Boondock Saints fic with Murphy/Connor/Reader that was requested by an anon.

Hopefully, I can post these sometime soon.

#daryl dixon x reader #boondock saints fanfic #connor macmanus #murphy macmanus

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phoenixblack89 · 2 years

Text

Chapter 9 - Secrets and White Lies

Back after a good long while with another chapter. I do apologise for it not being weekly like some of the other incredible series writers out there like my dear @autocon23. But real life had been mega hectic and honestly I wasn't sure if this chapter was worth posting or not.

Been struggling with my worth as a writer lately especially at how slow I am and having issues with whether any idea of mine is actually good enough or different enough that I'm not gonna get told I'm copying someone else.

But nevermind.

As always - page breaker is by the awesome @firefly-graphics

Tag list - @lilythemadqueen @autocon23 @archerangel @littlegodzilla @pandora-writes-stuff @boondoctorwho @browneyes528 @darylsgirl @purple-serenity @fandomsaremykryponite

Sorry if I forgot anyone. Just let me know if I have

Warnings - TWD gore, Shane being paranoid, a touch of smut, phoenix being her delightful self.

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Phoenix rubbed her eyes and looked out the window. Her neck ached something fierce from sleeping all night sat upright. Daryl had rolled off and she stood slowly. The first rays of dawn were just beginning to rise over the farm and she needed to get out as quickly as possible. Giving Daryl one last look she ran as quietly as she could through the house. Pausing as she caught a glimpse of a familiar looking photo on Hershel's fridge door.

Nah, it couldn't be.

Leaning closer there was no mistake - There in beautiful multicolour was a photo of her. Her and her boys with Greenly, smiling happily at McGinty's. Her heart gave an unpleasant lurch as she thought about him.

She had tried to save him.

She really had.

That damn man had shot him dead for no reason other than he was there. Thank God Noah had taken him out because she wasn't sure she'd have given him such a merciful death. It would have been drawn out and painful if she had done it.

"That's my nephew, David."

Phoenix spun as Hershell entered. She ducked her head as he came to stand beside her.

"And that's you... with the Saints."

Her head flipped up to look at him. His eyes held a kindness there that she had forgotten existed.

"You want me to leave, don't you?"

"David told me all about you and your friends. You're a good, honest, God-fearing woman. I'd like you to stay. That group needs someone with God's guidance. Even if they don't know it." He said calmly, reaching out and taking hold of the photo, pulling it from its spot on the door. He held it out to her and she took it carefully.

"Mr. Greene..."

"I know all about you Miss Black. Don't fret. I understand and support your reasonings for keeping things hidden. We all do, for good reasons. Just don't make me regret not telling Rick about who you truly are." His gaze was misty as he glanced out the window towards the barn. Her eyebrows knotted before she smiled lightly, remembering that he'd most likely lost someone in this end of the world bullshit too.

"Does anyone else know?"

She felt tears well in her eyes and brushed them away harshly, causing her damaged cheek to flare with pain.

"Everyone in this house except Bethie. And we all will keep you safe. We all support the Saints and their mission. As long as you keep it secret so shall we."

She nodded in thanks and turned to leave.

"Next time..."

She paused and looked over her shoulder.

"Just say you want to stay the night and not sneak in to your beau." He laughed lightly, shaking his head as she blushed and rushed away.

Daryl woke slowly. He was having the nicest dream. Phoenix had come to see him and was running her hand through his hair lightly. It had felt heavenly, if he was honest with himself. He had buried his head in her lap and knew he was forgiven. It was so nice. He could still almost feel a lingering warmth where she'd been sat but as his eyes opened the dream turned to reality.

He was alone.

And the spot on the bed where he'd dreamt of her being was cold and empty. He sighed and rolled to his back. He stood gingerly, dressed and made his way quietly and quickly out of the house, calling to Hershell his thanks and that he was going back to his own tent.

Daryl made his way down to his own tent, pausing briefly outside of Phoenix's. His eyes could see her laying there vaguely through the morning sun lighting up the inside but dunked his head and carried on walking. She didn't want to see him anyway.

Phoenix laid still, hearing the footsteps she knew were Daryl's pause outside her tent.

At least he's up and about, she thought, tears welling in her eyes once more as she realized he didn't actually want her there last night or he'd come to talk to her. It had all been because of the medication from Hershell.

Shane rubbed his hand over his head as he approached Daryl's tent, having seen Andrea leave moments before. This wasn't going to go well he knew but something needed to be done. He knocked on the plastic and ducked down to see inside. Daryl raised his eyebrow at the man in front of him, waving a hand in greeting.

"Ya come t' see the invalid?" Daryl growled out as Shane crouched down near him. Shane chuckled and patted Daryl on the leg kindly, ignoring the way the man flinched.

"Nah. I need ya help.”

"Can't do much good right now. Wha' ya need?"

Shane sighed, hand running over his head as he thought of the best way to put what he needed to say.

"I need ya to get Phoenix up to Hershell."

Daryl regarded the man thoughtfully. While they weren't exactly friends, they both held enough respect for each other to put aside their differences to help another member of the group, whether it be helping Carol when she needed someone's strong lifting or one of the kids or like now, when one of them was being a stubborn pain in the butt and needed sense dragged into them. They had both been there that awful day and had both grown fairly protective of the only Brit that they believed was left alive.

"Why? She can take herself up there right?" A sudden feeling of dread surged through Daryl's chest. "She can walk."

Was she more hurt than she looked? Had she hurt her ankle or something when she fell and not said anything?

"She’s barely been outta her tent, Daryl. She was out when we sorted the search... But other than that, she hasn't been out. Hershell offered to take a look at her face last night when she came up to the house but she ran off. She ain't gonna listen to any of us. We both know how stubborn she can be."

"She ain't had that looked at yet?" A burst of rage ran through him at her foolishness.

Damn girl is gonna get sick again! He thought, pushing himself to a sitting position.

Shane nodded quietly and helped Daryl to his feet. As soon as he stood, Daryl stormed out of the tent and over to Phoenix's. He pulled the door open and burst in. She sat up with wide fear filled eyes and stared at the tall man in front of her.

"Git up! Now!"

"Why?" Her tear-filled voice rasped, hugging her arms around herself. Daryl growled and reached for her. She flinched back away from him and he sighed. Kneeling down, ignoring the flare of pain from his injured side, he put out his hand slowly.

"Ya need that face looked at, I... I don't want ya getting sick... Cos of summit I did. I didn't mean to hurt ya... Or scare ya"

Tears came to Daryl's eyes as he glanced up at her. She nodded silently and took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. His hand felt warm and strong in her as he walked with her up to the house. She could feel the calluses of years of manual labor on his fingers, which twitched around her's. She blushed as she remembered suddenly how they'd felt spread across her bare skin.

Daryl breathed slowly and calmly, trying not to remember the feel of her skin against his. But he could and it made his heart sped up.

All too soon they were at the front door, he pulled it open and entered pulling her along with him. Maggie smirked at the pair, noticing their interlaced fingers as she turned to the kitchen and waved at them to follow her. Daryl pushed Phoenix into one of the chairs at the kitchen island as Hershel entered the room.

"Now young lady. Let us get that face fixed." He said kindly as Maggie and Beth started boiling water on the old wood shove. Daryl kept hold of her hand as Hershel cleaned, stitched and bandaged her cheek. "You're a lucky girl that hasn't started to get infected."

Phoenix nodded and squeezed Daryl's hand in thanks. She pulled her fingers from his, stood quietly and turned to leave.

"I think it's best you stay, young lady. Forgive me but you need a real shower to get that dirt off."

Phoenix turned and blushed. She did feel gross but that was what happens when you spend days in a dark world of decay and death.

"I'll grab ya clean clothes" Daryl muttered rushing off out the door as quick as his injuries allowed.

Maggie showed Phoenix to the shower and handed her a big fluffy towel.

"Went well last night?" Maggie teased as they reached the door, Phoenix gave Maggie a look and she leaned against the frame.

"He was asleep the entire time, Mags. Didn't exactly do anything or talk or nothing."

"He's sweet on you too. Even if he denies it like he does. Give it time. He'll come round."

"If ya say so. Thanks." She whispered, stepping into the bathroom and undressing quickly. Gently pulling the bandage off her cheek so it didn't get wet she glanced in the mirror.

The bags under her eyes were red and puffy, the skin around her wounds cleaner than the rest of her face. Her hair was starting to get longer again. She dreading washing it as she had no way of straightening it. The horrid family curls were the bane of her life. The triangular burn scar across her collar bone stood out in stark contrast against her pale skin, angry and dark pink. She sighed as steam began to fill the room. She climbed in the shower and shrieked a little at the heat of the water. Hot water was indeed a blessing she had taken for granted.

Then again, the boys' loft and her own didn't have the best history with heated water, nor did the farm back in Ireland either. She felt her stiff muscles slowly relax under the pressure and heat. She sighed happily as she washed and rinsed her hair. Not ten minutes later she climbed out and wrapped the towel around her and ran another over her wet hair.

A quiet knock came at the door and she called to come in. Daryl entered, blushing crazily and keeping his eyes down.

"Here's ya clothes. Got them from ya tent." He muttered, cheeks and the tips of his ears a beautiful shade of pink.

Don't look. Don't look. Don't look. He thought over and over. Merle's voice in his head saying the opposite. Phoenix let out a stifled giggle and brushed her hands over his as she took the pile from him, placing them gently on the vanity below the mirror. Daryl glanced up quickly as her back was turned and caught sight of the beautiful Japanese style phoenix tattoo on her left shoulder. The majority of it was hidden underneath the towel wrapped around her body. The towel hugged tightly to her curves and left little to the imagination. Daryl licked his lips as desire rose causing a reaction in his groin at the sight. A moan escaped Daryl's lips as she turned. The towel barely covered her chest and he stepped closer, looking down at her lustfully.

His hand reached for her cheek slowly as she bit her lip.

"I'm sorry I hurt ya." He whispered as he inched closer to her. He could feel the steam coming off her damp skin as he stood in front of her. His head fell forward to lean against hers as they stared into each other's eyes, their breaths mingling in the small space between their faces. "Please forgive me."

She nodded and he leaned closer, brushing his lips slowly over hers as his hands found her waist tugging her gently to him. He didn't care about the towel's dampness against his dry clothes and skin. He was lost in the feeling of her lips moving in tandem with his.

The freshly showered skin on her arms brushing against his as her hands found their way into his hair and around his neck. His lips trailed along her chin and down to the sweet spot on her neck he knew drove her heart rate racing. Sucking lightly and biting little nips against it he groaned, hard cock crushing her hips into the vanity behind her. She gasped as his hand slid between the edges of the towel at her side, fingers trailing roughly over the smooth skin he found.

Fingers dancing up her ribs to gently squeeze her breast as she panted in desire. He pulled his head up and roamed his eyes over her features. Her cheek oozed a little drop of blood from the injuries he'd caused. His heart clenched in guilt as he leaned forward, pressing gentle kisses to the stitches as his hand moved lower and lower beneath her towel. He paused at the apex of her hip and bit his lip, tilting his head to the side slightly.

"Say it? Say ya forgive me?"

"Daryl..." she sighed his fingers striking along her hip bone softly, thumb brushing against the curls between her thighs. "Of course, I forgive you. Do you forgive me? I shot first after all."

He chuckled low in his chest and pulled her in for another kiss as his fingers reached their desired location. She gasped into his mouth at the feeling of his thick broad fingers sliding along her folds. His lips returned to her neck, sucking and kissing as he slowly spread her folds, seeking out the moisture gathering there. He growled and ran a finger slowly through her slick, flicking it slowly up and down as his cock throbbed against his jeans. She gave a loud moan as he brushed over her sensitive bud and she felt him smile against her neck before he pushed her up onto the vanity and dropped to his knees, pulling his hand away from her core.

"Daryl?"

He put his finger to his lips and sucked on it before pushing her thighs open and putting them over his shoulders. A bright red blush spread across her face and chest at the sight of Daryl Dixon, redneck hunter extraordinaire on his knees, looking like he was going to devour her. He smiled up at her then kissed his way from her knee into her thighs and higher.

"Holy shit!"

Her chest heaved as his tongue plunged into her folds licking roughly up to her clit. His tongue flicked hard and fast against it as his lips sucked on it. Her legs shook as his skilled appendage worked her so well. Her hand found its way to his hair and tugged it. He let out a pained moan as his own stitches pulled sharply from her fingers.

He grazed his teeth along her clit in revenge. He glanced up at her as he slowly ran a finger around her slick hole. He raised an eyebrow in question and she nodded her head. He smiled around her clit and pushed in slowly.

Fuck she's tight! He thought as her walls gripped his finger like a vice. Pumping it in and out slowly he watched as her chest heaved. Her walls twitched against his knuckles and he pulled his finger out. Her moan of discontent sounded, as he sucked her clit, twirling his tongue around faster and faster, turned to a gasp of surprise as he plunged two fingers into her twisting, curling and pumping faster and faster.

"Oh God... Daryl... Oh fuck...." she moaned, every muscle in her body tensing as she climaxed on his fingers and tongue. Daryl smirked in satisfaction as he worked her through her orgasm.

Daryl opened his eyes, hand dripping with his own cum.

He never meant to do this especially in her tent, definitely not after his dream last night.

It tainted it somehow.

She'd been so sweet and caring in his dream.

But the sight of her lacy underwear had gotten him so hard it couldn't be ignored.

He knew nothing like that could ever happen.

Hell, he didn't know how to make a girl cum with his tongue. His only experiences had been quick fucks behind the bars with sluts begging for a quickie, faking their moans like porn stars, or his own hand. He didn't know how to truly please a woman. He knew how to get a quick fuck sure. But he didn't just want a quick fuck with Phoenix. He wanted to make her moan and cum over and over again before he did.

Fuck Darlene you turning into a sissy!? I told ya enough tricks to get a girl moaning! Merle's voice said as he cleaned his hand on the red rag hanging from his pocket. He put his dick back inside his jeans and gathered up the clothes he'd come originally to collect for her. Hopefully she was still in the shower and he could ask Maggie or Beth or Patricia to give her them.

Gotta stop fucking your hand to her he mussed she ain't even got a phoenix tattoo on her back. Where the fuck you think that up from?

You know exactly where that came from Daryl. That goddamn dream you've been having most of your life.

He sighed as he spotted Maggie walking up to Glenn in the space near the chicken coop and Beth hanging wet laundry with Carol.

Damn suck it up boy Merle laughed in his mind.

Phoenix peeked around the door and wrapped the towel tighter. Where was Daryl with her clothes?

"Maggie? Beth?" She called out, hoping one of the girls was nearby. She shook her head and closed the door, sitting on the closed lid of the toilet and sighed.

Dammit Dixon what's taking you so long!

She heard the groan of the stairs and stood up, opening the door a little and peeking out. She smiled as Daryl made his way towards her, fidgeting with the clothes in his arms and blushing slightly. She stuck her head out further causing Daryl to jump slightly.

"About time DD! Freezing my nips off here." She laughed, trying to ease the air of uncertainty around the two. Daryl held the pile out and she stepped out to get them. Towel securely wrapped covering every inch, she smiled lightly and turned.

Daryl's jaw dropped.

There in wonderful shades of orange, red, black and yellows was a giant phoenix tattoo on her shoulder blade disappearing under the towel.

Just like the one in his dreams and sexual fantasy....

Phoenix returned to her tent, feeling relaxed and refreshed. Even managing to smile at Rick and Carl as she passed them. She frowned as she entered. There was an unusual smell to her tent and as she knelt down, she noticed a few odd splatters on the floor of the tent. A creamy white liquid was spread across the spot where her stack of clean clothes had been. Her eyes widened as she realized what it was.

He wouldn't...

He didn't...

No.

He can't have.

She stifled a giggle and wiped up the semen and threw the cloth towards her dirty laundry pile.

Damn Daryl, if you got that turned on by just looking at my pants you should've come back sooner! She thought with a sad smile.

Why won't you make a move if you're that into me...

"What did Rick say?"

Phoenix paused as she slopped towards the group at Glenn's hissed words.

"You didn't tell him? Okay. But you have to! You're pregnant. You need vitamins, medicine, a nice pillow. You can have my share."

"Honey, I don't want your food, okay? Eat." Lori said quietly, pushing the jerky away that the man held out towards her.

"You need to eat. You're too skinny!" He pleaded as Phoenix nodded in agreement. "And if you're not gonna let Rick take care of you, then someone has to. Lori, you have a medical condition."

"Oh my fucking god, seriously Glenn? She’s pregnant, not ill." Phoenix snorted before shaking her head at Glenn and Lori's looks.

"I'll make another run into town. Just tell me what you need."

"I need you to be quiet about this. All right? Please... Both of you." Lori hissed. Phoenix motioned a zip across her mouth and smiled at the brunette.

"Hey! Peach man! Phoenix!"

The pair nodded at the sheriff’s wife before running off to join Rick, Jimmy and Shane.

"The creek flows south, past that farmhouse Daryl found. Maybe Sophia dropped the doll there, the current brought it downstream."

"So, what, you think she took this road here and then she went north?"

"Yeah. What's up that way?" The two former officers glanced at Jimmy in question.

"A housing development. It went in, maybe 10 years ago." Jimmy said, itching his head as he squinted slightly in the bright sunlight.

"Take a run up there after gun practice. I'll hold down the fort here, but take backup. After what went down with Daryl, I don't want anyone going out alone. We stay in pairs." Rick commanded.

"I'll take suggestions on a partner." Shane asked quietly, glancing at the red head opposite him. She was a tracker and a crack shot but knew she wouldn't be willing to leave so easily with Daryl injured.

"See how they do on the range, then take your pick."

"My binoculars." Shane said as Glenn gaped at them like a fish after handing them both a juicy, ripe peach and some jerky.

"Yeah yeah. Okay, bye." Glenn mumbled before hurrying off like his ass was on fire. Phoenix gave a small shake of her head at the nervousness of the man.

"We'd like to join you for gun training today." Beth stated as she and Patricia wandered towards the group.

"Hershel's been very clear. I can't involve any of you in what we do without his okay."

"He doesn't like it, but he consented." Beth said quietly.

"Otis was the only one who knew gun… Now that he's gone, we gotta learn to protect ourselves. Her father saw the sense in that." Patricia said tearfully, raising her chin as if to say try and stop me.

"No offense, but I'll ask Hershel myself." Rick stated harshly before striding away to seek out the land-owner.

"How the hell did this happen?!" Lori exclaimed, glancing around the small group in shock.

"Kid's curious, he can't help it. It's just the age he's at." Phoenix shrugged, winking at Carl and earning a scowl from the irate mother.

"Well, it's my fault. I let him into the RV. He said he wanted a walkie, that you sent him for one." Dale sighed, calmly gesturing towards his vehicle.

"So, on top of everything else, he lied. What's he thinking?" Lori huffed, hands on her hips.

"He wants to learn how to shoot. He asked me to teach him. Now it's none of my business, but I'm happy to do it. It's your call." Shane spoke with a low tone, knowing how voilite Lori's mothering instincts could be.

"I'm not comfortable with it. Oh, don't make me out to be the unreasonable one here. Rick?"

"I know. I have my concerns too, but..."

"There's no but. He was just shot! He's just back on his feet and he wants a gun?" Lori half yelled, facing her husband angrily.

"Better than him being afraid of 'em. There are guns in camp for a reason. He should learn to handle them safely."

"I don't want my kid walking around with a gun." Lori spat angrily. The very idea boiling her blood into a fury.

"But how can you defend that? You can't let him go around without protection."

"He'd be sitting meat, better learning now than in a life or death situation." Phoenix supplied, tilting her head.

"No, he's as safe as he'll ever be right here." Lori said firmly, Phoenix held her hands up in surrender at the pleading look from the boy's mother. "Look, everything you're saying makes perfect sense. It feels wrong. I mean I didn't feel good about him following you out into the woods. And I wish I'd said something. I should've gone with my gut."

"He's growing up, thank God. We've got to start treating him more like an adult." Rick whispered, glancing at his son.

"Then he needs to act like one. He's not mature enough to handle a gun."

"I'm not gonna play with it, mom. It's not a toy. I'm sorry I disappointed you, but I want to look for Sophia and I want to defend our camp. I can't do that without a gun." Carl reasoned, the earnestness and honesty in his face softening his mother's resolve.

"Shane's the best instructor I know. I've seen him teach kids younger than Carl."

Lori took a quick glance around before sighing and grabbing her son by his shoulder and looking him directly in the eye.

"You will take this seriously and you will behave responsibly. And if I hear from anyone in this camp that you're not living up to our expectations... " Lori warned sternly, giving her son a look that only mothers seemed to know.

"He won't let you down."

“Yeah.”

“Now if you're gonna do this, you listen to Shane.”

“Okay, dad.” Carl smiled as his dad nodded.

“All right? You be careful.”

"Hey, you fuck this up little man, I'll be making ya clean out the RV's toilet with ya toothbrush." Carl grimaced and shuddered at the thought, knowing almost 13 people including Merle had been using the toilet. "Come on, I'll help ya find summit for target practice." Phoenix smirked as the other adults laughed.

"Hey, come on, man. Don't give me that gangsta shit." T-Dog grumbled at Jimmy as the boy held his gun sideways. Phoenix snorted as she twirled her Berettas in her hands before raising them and hitting her targets one after another with ease. She raised her eyebrow as Shane paled slightly at her skill.

"Show off. Ain't helping the newbies either." He whispered, shaking his head as his mind filed the sight into his British oddities of the girl folder in his head.

Phoenix noticed Beth's timid hold on her gun and moved to help. Beth sighed and lowered the gun slightly.

"Hey. Relax. The more tense you are the harder it'll be." She said with a soft smile. Beth gave her a disbelieving look before huffing.

"It's easy for ya to say! Y'all make it look easy as making pie!" Beth whispered, tucking a strand of her blond hair behind her ear.

"Nah, takes time to learn how is all. Sure, it's easy now but back in Boston when I was learning... damn that was hard." The Brit laughed.

"Boston?"

"Oh yea, wasn't nearly as easy as out here. Tight little shooting gallery was jackshit compared to actually being in the fresh air with actual wind, its a totally different experience hun." Phoenix helped Beth get back into position and smiled. "Here and now is gonna help ya better in the long run than how I learnt. Go on, try again."

Beth took a deep breath and slowly squeezed the trigger, the bullet flying through the air and hitting the target. Shane glanced at the Brit as she was engulfed in a hug from the blond. Yet another odd fact the girl had come out with that made little sense.

Hadn't she said she'd come straight from England to Atlanta to study? When had she been in Boston? And why did she learn to shoot there?

He shook his head before focusing on Andrea and her shooting.

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fandomsaremykryponite · 1 month

Note

Just wondering if we will get to see another sexy MacManus shower scene but now Daryl will be participating instead of eavesdropping? I’m going to suck you dry Dixon

.......maybe.....

#boondock saints fanfic #boondock saints fanfiction #murphy macmanus x reader x connor macmanus #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #thanks for the ask!#answered asks #author ramblings #connor macmanus #connor x ofc x murphy

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autocon23 · 1 year

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HELLOY BITCHES!!!

It's Friday and you know what that means!!! New chapter!!!

And not just any chapter!! It's the first chapter to part 6!! That's right, ladies and germs!!!

We've finally reached season 3!!

Oh what will you all read in this series?! Howuch different will it be from the show?! Who knows?!

Guess you'll have to read to find out!!

Enjoy!!

Taglist:

@phoenixblack89 @lilythemadqueen @archerangel @twdeadfanfic @littlegodzilla @fandom-cuties @livingdeadblondequeen

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stellar-waves · 14 days

Text

staring down the sun

. . .

a boondock saints story // connor + female oc

Real men hide their feelings, at least that’s what Connor and Murphy believed in order to survive. Until Elena Jensen helps them open up through therapy before they escape prison and go back to work as the Saints. The boys learn Elena has some secrets of her own as they uncover a network of powerful crime organizations. But when a spark grows between Connor and Elena, so does the threat to the greater good.

. . .

A/N: This is shamefully my first time ever writing in this fandom, despite having loved the movie and crushing hard on Connor way back when I first rented the DVD from Blockbuster. Thank you to everyone who might be reading this crazy thing I just had to get out of my head. I really appreciate it. 💗

All artwork is original and made specifically for this story. Chapters will be updated periodically to include accompanying artwork. Started out with a kiss (how did it end up like this) and then I ran from there.

. . .

warnings: explicit language, canon-typical violence, suggestive sexual themes (no smut here), mentions of past sexual assault, mentions of death and grief/mourning, suggestion of suicidal ideation, injury

. . .

[ * includes illustrated moment ]

[1] how could you realize? *

[2] memories are just where you laid them *

[3] you were wrong, you were right

[4] two dimes in the telephone *

[5] like something's gonna give *

[6] beg for the rest of my life

[7] look at my eyes *

[8] and by morning we'll be free *

[9] but the shadows still remain

[10] the saints are coming

[11] navigate the darkness

[12] god's grace lost and the devil is proud

[13] turn my bones to sand *

[14] silent rage now that fills my lungs

[15] standing here until you make me move *

[16] taste like a summer day

[17] truth or consequence, say it aloud *

[18] use that evidence, race it around *

[19] let me be clever *

[20] hanging by a moment *

[21] got my veins all tangled closed

[22] you can never look back

[23] somehow here is gone *

[24] all the words to what's unspoken

[25] take me to sunrise from indigo *

[26] a long night, open, knowing *

[27] back into the arms that care *

[28] headlights on the hillside *

[29] swallow your pride and drown *

[30] but i wanted to stay *

. . .

#boondock saints fanfic #connor macmanus x oc #the boondock saints #boondock saints #connor macmanus #murphy macmanus #fanfic #fanart #illustrated moments #staring down the sun

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twdeadfanfic · 2 years

Text

Irish Luck Pt.6

Murphy MacManus x Female Reader

Summary: An Irish man on the run jumping into her car and asking her to keep driving is just the beginning of trouble for reader, who gets unwillingly dragged into the mafia killing life of the MacManus twins.

Find the other chapters and more Murphy MacManus and Daryl Dixon fanfics in my masterlist

You weren’t surprised when, for the next couple of days, Murphy phoned you in the evenings to check that you were alright, since he’d told you he would do so, but you still found it a bit shocking that he still cared and seemed to kind of consider you a friend somehow, but you would be lying if you said that it didn’t feel kind of good to have him checking on you and having your back.

As the phone rang now, you guessed correctly that it was Murphy checking on you.

“Hi, lass!” His cheerful voice greeted you through the phone. “Ye okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Still no mafia had come for you, and so you had relaxed a bit, even though you were still anxious sometimes, fearful that they might come for you again in the future.

“Glad to hear that, lass…the cops left today?” Murphy asked you.

“Yes, they left this morning…” You were a bit anxious about being on your own, but you knew you couldn’t have police watching over you forever.

“Aye…so ye got plans for today?” Murphy asked you, taking you aback.

“Plans…no, not really…” You were still a bit anxious at the idea of leaving your apartment on your own, but you knew you should overcome it, since you were going back to work in a couple of days.

“So yer gonna be at home?”

“I…yes, I’ll be here…” You said and then heard some rustle at the other side of the line, before hearing Connor’s voice.

“He’s askin’ ‘cause he’s ‘bout to show up at yer door and drag me with him,” he told you, and you weren’t sure if he was being informative or just trying to take the piss at his brother, who you could hear cursing, followed by some more rustling as if they were fighting to take the phone from each other.

“Murphy?”

“Aye, aye, lass, me again,” Murphy’s voice told you before he cursed at his brother again.

“Murphy, you don’t have to come just because the police left, I can’t have people watching over me all the time, I have to learn to be on my own again, it’s okay, I-” You began but he interrupted you.

“It’s not only that lass…we’ll be there soon!” He just said, hanging the phone before you could say anything else, leaving you as puzzled as grateful at Murphy’s gesture.

Around an hour later, you heard some knocks on the window that led to the balcony of your apartment, and when you looked through it, you saw Murphy smiling and waving at you outside, while Connor rolled his eyes at him before giving you a nod, and you opened the window for them.

“Hey, lass,” Murphy greeted you as he climbed into your living room.

“There’re no cops outside anymore, you know you can come through the door,” you told them, a bit puzzled.

“Window’s nice enough.” Murphy shrugged.

“And I bet ye don’t wanna someone to see the Saints knockin’ on yer door,” Connor told you with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Yes, well, it’s not like seeing them knocking on my window is any less suspicious,” you retorted.

“Anyway…” Murphy was walking towards the coffee table, dropping his bag on the armchair. “Told ye that we can’t take ye to McGinty’s for a drink…but we can take the drink to ye,” he said, smiling at you before taking out of his bag a bottle of beer.

“You didn’t have to…” It was nice of him, though, even if you still felt rather awkward, but Murphy just shrugged, giving you another bright smile before taking out of this bag another two bees and also a bottle of whiskey, and you wondered if he’d taken those from their friend Doc.

Then, Murphy flopped down on the armchair while Connor took a chair from your kitchen and placed it next to the armchair, sitting down. Not knowing what to do, you sat down on the sofa, taking the beer that Murphy offered you and fidgeting with it.

“So how ya doin’ without the cops?” Murphy asked you after taking a sip from his beer, and you shrugged.

“I don’t know…it’s the first day…I’m okay…” You were a bit anxious though. “The first day of coming back to normal…have you…have you both heard anything about the Russians? Involving me, I mean.”

“No, lass,” Connor told you and Murphy shook his head too. “We can’t promise ye, but I think yer not on their radar anymore.”

“I wish…” You sighed. “I just want my life to go back to normal…no cops watching over me, no mafia threat…”

Not having to be scared of getting kidnapped and killed at any moment when you stepped outside…you knew it’d take you a while to conquer your anxiety and fear and that the first days going back to work were going to be hard, but you wanted your life back.

“No mafia killers at your window…” Connor added and with the way he was looking at his twin, instead of at you, you thought he was trying to take the piss at Murphy, who scowled and nudged his brother.

“I mean…yes it’s odd…” You admitted. “But it also feels nice to know that you had my back,” you said and you were rewarded by Murphy’s bright smile.

“We still have it, love, and we will,” Murphy said and Connor nodded. “If ye got any more trouble we’ll help ye.”

“Thanks…” You were grateful, but you still felt a bit awkward and shy there with the twins, even though the familiarity with which Murphy treated you felt kind of nice in a way, and you fidgeted with your beer, unsure of what to do or what to say.

“Ye don’t like beer?” Murphy asked you, frowning when he noticed that you weren’t drinking.

“Oh…no, I mean, yes, I like it…” You weren’t the biggest fan, though, but it was just that you’d been too awkward to drink, but now you took a sip. “This is actually very good,” you commented, you liked it more than the beers you’d tried until then.

“’cause it’s Irish, love!” Murphy said, seeming proud as he raised his beer.

“Aye!” Connor agreed. “Like all good things!”

Even though the situation was still awkward and odd, you couldn’t help your smile at them…for mafia killers, they were rather cute sometimes.

“Pity that I’m not Irish then,” you tried to joke shyly.

“Just keep hangin’ with us and we’ll make an Irish out of ye, love!” Murphy grinned at you and you found yourself thinking that he was a rather attractive guy.

“Aye, even without bein’ born in Ireland,” Connor agreed.

“Like our friend Rocco, his family is Italian but he was born here, but he’s always sayin’ how Italian he is,” Murphy said.

“Aye, and he speaks less Italian than us!” Connor scoffed.

“How many languages do you speak?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“English, Irish, Italian…”

“French, Spanish, Russian…”

The brothers listed and you looked at them a bit in awe. “Woah…that’s a lot, it’s very impressive,” you said and the brothers looked at each other, seeming pleased with themselves. “I should ask you to teach me any of those,” you half-joked.

“Don’t think we’d be the best teachers, lass…” Connor snorted.

“Aye,” Murphy nodded. “But if we’re gonna make her an Irish, then she gotta learn Irish!”

What started as a joke ended with Murphy and Connor trying to teach you some Irish words and phrases…wasn’t that language hard…

The brothers kept interrupting each other, arguing and talking over each other, escalating into them both trying to slap each other’s mouth shut, quite literally. It was kind of endearing, in a way, despite the odd situation.

“That’s not a real word!” Connor complained. “Ye just made it up!”

“I didn’t! Heard ma’ sayin’ it!” Murphy protested but Connor scoffed.

“In a dream or somethin’, aye,” Connor retorted and Murphy shoved him. “Ye know the stuff ye imagine in yer head ain’t real, aye baby brother?” Connor kept teasing Murphy, who shoved him harder this time. “Like yer tree with a person’s face.”

“I didn’t make that up! It’s true! Lass showed it to me!” Murphy said.

“Yes, it’s true.” You nodded. “Well, almost, it doesn’t really have a face like a person, but the tree kind of resembles a person, the figure, you know…” You said while Connor raised an eyebrow at you and his brother.

“Let’s show him, lass! Murphy said, jumping up from the armchair.

It could be nice…the park was less than a ten minute walk from your apartment, you’d get some fresh air, and you’d be less anxious taking a walk with the Irish mafia hunters brothers than alone.

“Alright…sure, why not, let’s go,” you agreed, and you couldn’t help your smile at Murphy’s happy grin.

Ten minutes later, you three were standing in front of the tree.

“Doesn’t have a person’s face…” Connor scoffed as if he didn’t want to have to agree with his brother, but you had noticed that he’d seemed curious about the tree.

“Ye just got no imagination,” Murphy retorted.

“If I have to imagine it, then it doesn’t have it,” Connor said back with a smug smirk, and his brother shoved him.

“Well, it’s a tree, it can’t have a face.” You shrugged. “But the shape of the tree, it does look like a person, like I was carved or something.”

“It was carved.”

It seemed that an old man who’d been taking a walk had heard your tree discussion and had decided to pitch in, taking you three by surprise, and you all turned to look at him.

“Excuse me?” You said, feeling rather shy and awkward.

“The tree, it was indeed carved to resemble a person,” the man said again. “Several years ago, for some celebration, but nobody has cared for it since then, so it looks like this now.”

“Oh…okay, thank you…” You said, still feeling rather awkward, and also a bit afraid that he might recognize the MacManus somehow.

The old man just nodded and kept on with his walk.

“See, told ye!” Murphy said while playfully shoving his brother, who shoved him back.

“Aren’t you afraid of someone recognizing you when you’re outside?” You straight up asked.

“We’re not that famous, lass,” Connor snorted.

“Aye…there were just a couple of news in the papers ‘bout us.” Murphy nodded.

“And nobody knows our faces,” Connor added.

“But someday, we’ll be signing autographs.” Murphy grinned, and you weren’t sure if he was joking or not.

“More like answering to letters from a jail cell,” you said back, unsure yourself if you were joking or not.

“Mean,” Connor snorted.

“Would you write us, love?” Murphy asked you, still with that smile on his face that was cuter than it has any right to be.

“I…you...you better try not to end up in jail,” you just said as you started to walk back home.

One night a few days later, near the sunrise, you were asleep when you were awoken by some insistent knocks. You were scared, wondering what was going on and who might that be at that hour…maybe the russian mafia was back at trying to get you? But they wouldn’t knock…

Even if you were scared, you got up, and as you stepped out of your room and the insistent knocks kept sounding, you realize they weren’t coming from the door but rather from the window to the fire escape.

Only the MacManus brothers did that…was this them? What were they doing here at that hour? Confused and still a bit afraid, you headed to the window.

“Lass?” You heard Murphy’s muffled voice from the other side of the glass as if he had noticed your silhouette through the curtain, or maybe he was just trying to catch your attention since you weren’t opening. “It’s Murphy and Connor, can we come in, please?”

So it was the MacManus indeed...you were relieved that it wasn’t someone trying to murder you, or kidnap you, or rob you, or anything like that, but you were worried about what were the twins doing there at that hour.

You lifted the curtain and saw right away the reason why they were there.

Murphy gave you a worried smile, but his lip was split and bleeding, and he winced as he tried to smile, while his nose seemed to have bled too. Connor worried you more, though, you could see blood dripping down his temple.

“What the hell happened?!” You asked as you opened the window, and the twins helped each other to step into your living room.

“Connor’s plan didn’t work too well…” Murphy said, sniffing when some blood trailed down his nose again.

“My plan was fine, ye were too slow!” Connor retorted, annoyed and ignoring his own bleeding wound.

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?!” Murphy snapped back, annoyed too.

They seemed about to start arguing and shoving each other despite their state, and so you stepped between them. “Stop it and sit down!”

“Will ye help us, love?” Murphy asked you with those puppy eyes that he had no right to have.

“No, I’ll just throw you both down my window,” you muttered as you headed to your bathroom for the first aid kit, rolling your eyes at the MacManus showing up at your window bleeding and then asking that.

You grabbed the first aid kit, a bottle of water, and some clean rags and bandages, struggling to carry it all back to the twins, who had sat down on your kitchen chairs. You poured a bit of cold water into a cloth and handed it to Murphy.

“I want you to hold this to your nose and pinch it to stop the bleeding while I check you brother, after that, I’ll see to your lip,” you instructed and Murphy nodded.

Pouring some water into another cloth, you turned to Connor, focusing on cleaning the blood around his temple so you could assess the wound…once clean of blood, it wasn’t as bad as you had feared, but still, it wasn’t pretty.

“Does your head hurt?” You asked.

“As if someone had hit me on it with his gun? Aye,” Connor retorted and you rolled your eyes.

“Well, better hitting you with his gun on the head than putting a bullet on it, uh?” You said harshly, but Connor just nodded, smirking at your sarcasm. “But no, I didn’t mean it like that, I mean, are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Nah, lass, I don’t have a concussion, I feel fine,” he told you, reminding you of Murphy acting as nothing while having a bullet wound on his side, when you first met him, weeks ago now.

“I’ll take your word for it…” You murmured, you were still a bit worried that he might have a concussion without any of you three noticing, but he seemed mostly fine.

You disinfected the wound, making Connor hiss at it. “You need stitches…but I think I don’t have to suture.” You were relieved of it, you hadn’t done it again since Murphy, it wasn’t part of your regular job. “I think some butterfly stitches can work.”

You had those and you began to carefully apply them to Connor’s wound.

“My brother’s whinier than me, aye?” Connor asked, confusing you.

“What?”

“He told me ye called him a whiny baby when ye stitched him,” Connor explained.

“Shut up!” Murphy snapped.

“Oh…yeah, I guess you whine less than him…” You said distractedly as you shrugged, focused on checking the wound and making sure you had tended to him properly.

“See?” Connor gloated.

“Oh, screw ye!” Murphy snapped again. “It ain’t the same! Those ain’t even real stitches! Butterfly stitches, even the name is gay!”

“Murphy, stop it right now or I won’t check your lip,” you scolded him.

“Yer always meaner to me than to my brother…” He whined, and even without looking at him you could see his pout and knew he looked again like a kicked puppy…you wondered if he meant it and felt like that or if he did it to make you feel bad, and you wondered even more why the hell did it work.

You let out a sigh as you turned to look at him. “You weren’t a whiny baby, I had to stitch a bullet wound with no anesthesia, that hurts a lot…now shut up and keep pinching that nose.”

Murphy nodded, seeming content enough with your words, while Connor just chuckled quietly, and when you looked at him again, he was rolling his eyes.

Whenever you were snarky or bantered with Connor, it seemed to amuse him, but Murphy always seemed to take it to heart.

“Alright…” You stepped back once you were sure his wound was as good as you could get it. “If you start feeling dizzy or nauseous, you tell me or Murphy,” you instructed him and Connor nodded. “Now let’s see your brother’s lip.”

“Don’t worry, lass, I think he’ll be fine if ye just kiss it better,” Connor joked, smirking.

“Shut up!” Murphy snapped, trying to kick his brother from his chair without catching you in the middle, and you wondered if that mafia killer in your kitchen was actually blushing and seeming a bit flustered...odd...

“Stop it you both,” you scolded them, trying to ignore Connor’s joke, since you were afraid you might end up a bit flustered yourself if you thought about it. “Did your nose stop bleeding?” You asked Murphy, who nodded.

“Alright…” Time to focus on his busted lip, then. “This is going to sting,” you warned him, pouring some disinfectant on gauze and then dabbing at his wound while Murphy hissed. “So, the lip is split…but it could be worse. I’m disinfecting it and then we’ll apply some cold to it,” you talked as you worked. “It’s probably going to swell, but it’ll be okay in a few days, it’ll also hurt when you eat and speak so careful with that.”

“Ye mean my baby brother may shut up for a few days?” Connor asked cheerfully, back to joking.

“Don’t move,” you told Murphy when he was about to snap, still applying gentle pressure to his lip, and you looked at Connor over your shoulder. “Stop being mean to your brother or I’ll get my butterfly stitches back.”

You felt a bit like taking watch over two toddlers…Keeping them in check when they tried to take the piss at each other was more exhausting than taking care of their injuries, and you wondered why you put up with it…you couldn’t feel any bad intention coming from it, though, not really, and you had witnessed how those two cared for each other.

“Okay, okay…” Connor chuckled, and when you looked back at Murphy, he seemed pleased that you had spoken up for him.

You pulled back the gauze that you had been pressing to his lip to check it again, and as those pretty blue eyes looked at you, you wondered if you might, perhaps, actually kind of wonder if it wouldn’t be a bit nice to kiss it better as Connor had joked…yeah, no, whenever that train of thoughts was coming from, you were stopping it right then and there.

“Okay…” You stepped back. “I’m going to get you an ice pack.”

“Thanks, love.” Murphy tried to smile at you but winced. “And sorry that we woke ye.”

“It’s fine, I had to get up soon anyway, I have a morning shift at the hospital,” you said, glancing at the clock.

“I know.” Murphy nodded. Since he’d wanted to keep checking on you, he’d asked for your schedule so you’d be at home when he phoned…it still felt a bit strange but it also felt nice to have him checking on you and making sure that you were okay and safe. “That’s why I thought ye’d be around and maybe ye’d help us.”

“Hmm.” Yes, you couldn’t have turned them away. “I should be getting ready…you guys don’t have any more injuries under your clothes, right?” You wouldn’t put it past them to have been shot or something but to act like nothing.

“Ye want us to strip, lass?” Connor teased you, smirking, and you rolled your eyes.

“You know, I was going to tell you both to stay for breakfast, but now I’m kicking you out,” you retorted.

“No, lass.” Murphy gave you the puppy eyes. “Let’s kick out just my brother and have breakfast you and I.”

“Who’s the mean one now?” Connor flipped his brother, who reached to lift Connor’s shirt and press the ice pack that you had given him for his lip to Connor’s belly, making his brother curse and jump off the chair….yes, toddlers…

“You both are mean and a headache,” you half-joked…it was so odd to think that these two guys were the same cold, dangerous mafia killers that you had witnessed in action not so long ago… “Now behave while I make some breakfast or I promise I’m kicking you both out…come on, go wash that blood off you.”

Much to your surprise, the twins listened to you and stopped, getting up and heading to the bathroom to wash the blood, talking in which you thought might be Irish, sounding as friendly as if they hadn’t been snapping at each other five seconds ago.

This was odd, having them there and fixing breakfast for you three, after you had fixed wounds you knew they had gotten fighting mafia, maybe even killing them…and you were about to have breakfast with them as if nothing…better not think about that.

“So, lass…” Connor began once you three were having breakfast. “If maybe we got hurt again workin’, would ye help us again? Can we come here?”

You shifted uncomfortably on your seat. You still weren’t too on board with this thing of them killing people because they thought God had told them so in a dream…but they only killed mafia…still, you were making yourself an accessory on their killing business…but if they were hurt and you didn’t help them, you knew they wouldn’t go to the hospital and try to fix their wounds themselves, and you didn’t trust how that could end…and why you cared…but you did…

Both brothers looked at you expectantly, with Murphy holding his toast in his mouth as he stared at you…how the hell could this killer be so cute sometimes…

“Yeah…” You finally sighed. “Yeah, I'll help you if you need it…”

Murphy removed the toast from his mouth after taking a bite and he went to smile but winced as it pulled on his split lip. “Thanks, love.”

“Aye, thanks.” Connor nodded, seeming pleased too.

“Just…try not to get hurt…” You sighed again and looked at your clock. “Alright, I have to get ready and leave for work in like ten minutes.”

“Aye, we should be leaving too.” Connor nodded to his brother, who got up, picking a spare toast.

“Through the door or through the window?” You half-joked.

“Window’s fine.” The twins shrugged, heading towards the balcony.

“If you say so…” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help your small smile.

“See ya, love,” Murphy said, trying to smile at you and wincing at it, before following his brother through the window.

“Hopefully not hurt and bleeding,” you said, to which both brothers nodded, giving you a nod and a smile before they walked down the fire escaped, and you sighed as you looked at them go, talking animatedly with each other as if they hadn’t been bleeding on your kitchen less than an hour ago.

N/A

Thanks to the people who left me a comment in the last chapter telling me what they thought about it and to everyone who supported it!

Please, if you enjoyed this, let me know your thoughts in a comment, and as always, reblogs are more than welcome.

As always, excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

I’ll be reblogging the taglist after posting.

#murphy macmanus #murphy macmanus x reader #murphy macmanus/reader #murphy macmanus fanfiction #murphy macmanus fanfic #murphy macmanus imagine #murphy macmanus fic #murphy macmanus & reader #the boondock saints fanfiction

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