#boondock saints fanfic

[stellar-waves]

staring down the sun [art - 29]

He blinks, seeing her handwriting under the drawing. “Síochán leat,” she signed. Peace be with you. 

Peace. The enemy of memory. But something Elena believed Connor and his brother both deserved. 

[ Connor & Murphy // swallow your pride and drown ]

. . .

( tracked time : 12h 55m )

. . .

[crossbows-and-moonshine]

I've been thinking about this blog lately.

It was a huge part of my life even though I'm not in the fandom anymore. I wrote for years, contributed a lot to the fandom, made some great friends and had a good time.

Now, years later and no longer really interested in TWD, this blog is just full of cobwebs.

I've considered deleting it several times, wondering what the point in keeping it is. But then everytime I think about it, I still get notes from things I posted years ago.

I considered it again today. I figured since all my work is on AO3 that it didn't really matter anyway, but I was getting notes all day and it made me reconsider.

The thing that's bothered me most is that a couple of years ago, Tumblr fucked all of my work up. So many fics have zero formatting which makes them horrific to read and makes new readers think I'm incapable of writing (I'm not lmao). Other fics have the text entirely deleted and I have no idea why or how. It's bothered me so much that it's fueled the thought of just deleting this blog so many times.

I've decided to try and fix the formatting on my work. I'm just gonna try and redo it all and the ones completely missing I'll copy from AO3.

The thing is, I did try to fix the formatting as soon as I noticed it had gone wonky years ago and it didn't work. So I guess I'll leave it up to fate.

If I can fix it and make it readable then I'll keep the blog, if not I'll probably get rid of it soon.

[fandomsaremykryponite]

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.

[phoenixblack89]

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

Main Masterlist

SERIES MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

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. 

[autocon23]

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

[livingdeadblondequeen]

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.

[shadowcitrine]

ShadowCitrine Masterlist

Work in progress aesthetically. There will eventually be more Daryl. Thanks to @enlightndone for teaching me how to Tumblr, and gently encouraging me to make the list.

Daryl

Sunbathing 18+

If you do That Again

Quiet

Alone Time 18+

Boondock Saints

Craft Store Murphy-Light Fluff

Spa Day Silly, for fun

Couch Connor-Silly, for fun

Negan

Negan Thing unfinished

[cillivnz]

tidal [murphy macmanus]

PAIRING — MURPHY MACMANUS x F!READER

GENRE — SMUT, SLIGHT ANGST, FLUFF.

WORD COUNT — 2030

WARNINGS — established relationship, cursing, mentions of physical fights, deep cuts (cleaning = pain), bruises, blood, injured!murphy, reader cleans his scars, pet names, sexual innuendo, oral sex (m! receiving), smoking, p in v sex, cowgirl, creampie, slight breeding kink, breasts/nipple play.

A/N — wanted to write fluff, but my horny ass can’t sway from smut. so, enjoy.

NOTES; Leannán — lover

"Fuckin' cocksucker." You hear your boyfriend yell as he entered the apartment. Glancing over your shoulder to see he hasn't yet reached the living room, you proceed with making coffee for the two of you. "What's wrong, baby?" You call out. When no response followed, you decided to pause your coffee preparation and look for Murphy.

Your eyes widened when the sight of him revealed, silhouette first. Murphy was leaning agonisingly against the wall which his bloody hands stained red. The same crimson dripped out of a slick cut tainting his still flawless skin, knuckles reddish blue with incisions.

"God, darling! What happened?" You rushed over in a frenzy, almost falling to the floor, Murphy with you. He chuckled slightly at your reaction before groaning when it ached to laugh.

"He-he, you shoulda' seen the other guy." He said when you began stroking his cheek just below the cut, he winced softly at that. You let your exasperation be known at his pride.

His shirt was torn from places near and above his abdomen which turned out to be slashed as you took a closer look; even, superficially, drawing blood. Your brows furrowed together in pain. You had (through great difficulty) come to terms with his and Connor's way of living, but seeing Murphy in physical agony was something your heart could never grow accustomed to. You knew he was in the best of spirits knowing he let 'justice prevail' yet another time, but you knew he'd feel guilty letting you take care of him. Seeing the pleading look on your face, Murphy gave you a weak smile, the helplessness evident on his face.

"Oh, baby—" you slowly trailed off, kissing the unharmed portions of body. When your kisses trailed off to his abdomen, and finally down to his v-line, you understood where this would end up, and you weren't in the mood right now.

Boy, were you wrong.

"—let's get you cleaned up." You grabbed his hand and gained composure, a tear escaping your eye, unnoticed by Murphy. He let out a sigh before limping slightly, and following you to the bathroom.

You grabbed the medical kit from the cabinet, back facing him as you ordered, "Go sit on the slab, I'll be with you in a minute."

Though the sight of you right now was inviting; tight jeans hugging your curves perfectly, and one of his old t-shirts which was a little raised due to your stretching to reach the topmost shelf, which Murphy would've done for you, if he wasn't the patient; Murphy obediently sat on the slab.

When you turned around his eyes immediately landed on your tits. The shirt was so loose that your bare shoulders were visible, as was your tainted collarbone from Murphy's kissed and your tits. It seemed significantly low-cut, more than needed at the moment. You saw him shift in his pants from the corner of your eye; eyes rolling in disbelief.

He's horny. Broken, beaten up, and horny.

Taking antiseptic and pouring it on some cotton you began to address his wounds.

He seemed to be taking the pain pretty well; his high pain tolerance came to you as no surprise, considering how many brawls he's been in, but he did wince a little as you moved to the slashed flesh of his face. "This one's deep — I'm sorry for the sting, baby." It saddened you to see him in this state, but he did his best to show you he's alright, chucking softly, before coughing in pain.

"I hope I ain't broken somethin'." He groaned, beginning to shift to his side so he could look at you better. "I hope it's not a rib." You sigh softly.

"What was it this time?" You asked, not facing him while rummaging through the drawers to find gauze. "Hm?" He halfheartedly questioned. His eyes were on your body and your body was on his mind; thoughts of you were cut short when you, yourself asked him, "Why did you fight?"

"Rocco." He said less and you understood. You chuckled when he said, "He's a troublemaker, wee lad." You were about to leave the bathroom, looking for a substitute to the hidden gauze, when he grabbed you by the arm. "Come 'ere for a sec," he pulled you closer. You stood between his legs, arms on either side of him.

"You're not even gonna kiss your patient, doctor?" He massaged your curves. "Might be the only cure for me—" His eyes trailed to your lips, oh, how he'd want nothing more than those plump, soft, crimson lips to paint his skin! "You'd make a naughty patient, Murphy." You teased in a sultry tone, "Can't help it," he replied, "My doctor's the sexiest."

"Oh, yeah?" You teased, giggling, "Tell me more." He grinned.

"See, she's the prettiest lass ever. 'Never seen beauty like hers." You blushed, "She's got sexiest eyes that look into my soul when she's sucking my cock. She's got a cute little nose that scrunches up when she laughs at my jokes. And don't get me started on those lips of hers..." You inched closer, softly kissing his neck, and around the tender skin above the cut on his cheek.

"And if her kisses are the cure to my wounds, I'll let myself be slashed over and over." He breathed out, eyes closing in relief when you began sucking on his sweet spot. He placed your hand on the bulge in his pants. "Look what you do to me."

"I didn't do much..." Your voice trailed off as you kissed along his jaw. "You needn't. I could never get over you. Even when you're not around, I'm like this— at the sheer thought of you— it's paining me."

You were at a loss of words; never able to compete with him when it came to vocalising your love, but he never complained. You made up for it by staying. He'd expected you to walk out the first time he got into a fight — but you didn't. You stayed; kissing his crimson scars and watching them heal by your love.

"I'll have the water running for you." You pecked his lips, he nodded, smiling into the quick kiss.

He sat curled by the sink while you filled the bathtub for him. As it filled, you grabbed his hand, and gently stripped him off his rags. Once bare, he let you guide him to warm waters. He was hesitant in sinking in, shivering a little. It wasn't the water though, he trembled from pain and his state devastated you.

"Try to relax, honey." You cooed; he simply sighed in response. "Would you like me to help you?" You asked, an insinuating smirk plastered on your face.

He knew your looks of sexual innuendo like the back of his hand, for he elicited them.

"Please, have your way." He whispered. Even Murphy was surprised at the fact that his hard-on was now noticed by you, not when you removed him from his clothing. "Is this for me, baby?" You asked as you slowly stroked his cock. "All for you, my love. It's made for you." He groaned, head fall backwards as you applied more pressure and hastened your movements. You hummed, licking a long strip from the base to the slit at the tip. "God, you're killing me."

You hum in satisfaction— the sound sending shivers down his spine, causing him to twitch in your mouth. When he began fiddling in the bath— hands not knowing where and what to grab, you began stroking his length instead, free hand gently pressing him down so as to lay him. "Relax, Murphy. I want you to relax for me." Your tone was soothing, nonetheless sultry.

He then let the warm waters consume him. You were all he needed in this cruel world of injustice and dirty politics; to find something as sweet as you, the Lord really did consider him a Saint for blessing him like this.

"That's it darling, I'm gonna cum for you." He grabbed your hair and began hastening your movements. You sucked determinedly, eager to satisfy, and your efforts bore fruit when he hit the back of your throat and let his seed flow down.

"Oh, sweet angel..." He grabbed your face to kiss you. It was damn near impossible for you to not touch his face— his black eye, and slit cheek preventing you— nonetheless, the kiss was passionate and loving.

"Let's get you cleaned, my love." You helped him bathe.

After drying him, you gave him warm clothes to wear. The Boston winters were cruel, and the rain outside was merciless, too. He wore a cozy grey sweater, and sat in front of you, on the couch.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The first puff was passed to you, as became his habit; lighting it for himself, yet he'd always let you have it first— something you've always found endearing, though he doesn't realise how much these little make you fall harder in love with him, as if being more than head over heels as you are was possible.

"What are you thinking about, baby?" You asked him, when his gaze darkened. "I wanna fuck you so bad right now." His voice, barely audible.

"Murphy..." You look at him pleadingly. He knew, too, he couldn't even walk without your support and he wants to pound you. But his hard-on was back, and it throbbed for you.

And, that's how you ended up like this.

Riding him fervently, while his hands practically ached to touch you, still, placed on his sides. His grip on the sheets scrunched the bed-sheet; you were desperate to touch him, too, but your own hands were pinching and playing with your nipples.

You bounce on his cock; the lack of support making your movements sloppy, yet so hard and deep, your thighs ached every time you would lift yourself till only the tip remained inside and then pushed back down as your cunt squeezed him in like a vice.

"That's it, baby, cream on that cock." He looks up to you, your messy hair framing your face perfectly as sweat began to form in your cleavage. Your lips were swollen from kissing him, your breasts bounced with every thrust and your knuckles turned white, gripping the sheets instead of running your fingers through your boyfriend's hair.

He was in so, so deep— his tip kissing the top of your walls rhythmically every time you'd shove down on his cock. You were mesmerised even more so by his face. Those pale blue eyes looked at you, pleadingly; aching, for you to cum. He needed release, of modern worldliness and sexually, and you've become that release for him.

It only took a few more thrusts before he plunged inside you and began grinding your hips together. "Yes, fill me up!" You moaned like a pornstar, causing Murphy to continue thrusting into you, while his mouth ravenously devoured your tits. The overstimulation driving you into a frenzy; you shivered uncontrollably as he stilled, having his fill of you, and letting your excruciatingly hot walls drain his cock.

“I love you so much,” You moaned, as you began to pull yourself up, away from his cock, but it seemed like your cunt's vice-like grip had other plans. "I love you too, leannán— so much." He whispered, out of breath. His swollen lips wet at the sight of you— dripping in his load and your own cum. He pulled you in for a fervent kiss before he could get hard again and fuck you more than both of you could handle right now.

You laid him down whilst kissing, and he weakly pulled the blanket up for you. The minute you snug in, his strong arms wrapped around your waist; one hand tracing circles around your nipples, as if hardening them would put you to sleep, but the little erotic feeling satisfied you.

And your tidal love sweeping Murphy's shores of sins clean was all this Saint could've prayed for.

So you drift off to sleep, in each other's embrace.

TAGLIST — the sweetest, @takemetoyourbestfriendshouse <3

to join, interact with this post.

main masterlist. more from ‘the boondock saints’.

[thevegandarkelf]

Is there a fic out there where Murphy has a nun kink and him and reader/his partner get freaky in a confessional booth while she’s in a nun costume?

If not, I need someone to write this immediately.

[ikbitchssss]

need to gain back the writing mood frfr.

so please send any recommendations my way💜 I’m working on bright red (which will be posted to tumblr soon🙏) and some small one shots (Daryl x Reader as usual)

But I’ll write for(Moght be ooc):

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Negan Smith x Reader

Different Norman Reedus characters x Reader (If I know them🙏 And I won’t do NR x reader as I DON’T write for irl people😅)

I’ll also will write any twd friend ships. And also ones for Reader (Example: Rick and Daryl friendship one shot. Or Rick and Reader friendship one shot. Ect ect)

Just give a prompt or idea for it and I’ll write anything! (Except NON-con/rape, incest, and certain kinks(It’s a long list but if I don’t answer ur request I don’t answer it)

I’ll write 600-3k words. One shots only unless I feel like a part 2 heh heh!

I’ll do an official intro blog post blah blah blah but trust ill start getting out some things so🙏

xoxo jade

[ladymacbeth-writes-sometimes]

Intro post

★ Call me Lux

★ I'm female so l'Il usually write x fem!reader but I can write gender neutral

★ I’ll write for (assuming I get off my ass and write):

Daryl Dixon (and any other Norman character)

Negan Smith (and any other JDM character)

Billy Hargrove

Aemond Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen

Other characters if I feel like it

★ I love The Walking Dead, Supernatural, House of the Dragon and dark romance books

★ My comfort movie is the Boondock Saints

★ I have no faith in my writing abilities (so naturally I want to be an author)

★ I’ll write pretty much anything but nothing romanticising incest or rape

★ Request stuff

[stellar-waves]

272 hours . . . 🫣💀

I just did the math used a calculator to add up the tracked time on all of my illustrated moments for Staring Down the Sun and...

That's a lot of drawing for a self-serving fanfic story with my stupid crush.

That's a lot of drawing that has helped me become more comfortable and confident in illustrating and working digitally.

That's a lot of drawing that has been profoundly comforting and rewarding.

And I still have more drafted. 😅

[illiana-mystery]

WIP Wednesday

I'm back with another one of these. It's been awhile, hasn't it?

I have two WIPs to share since it's been a minute since an update. Those two WIPs being the upcoming Chapter 6 of A Decent Proposal and Chapter 3 (the last chapter) of One Thumb Down.

Hope you enjoy and read to the end for a sneak peek of a brand new fic!

Taglist: @ghnaim24​, @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky​​, @iobsessoverfictionalmen​, @emily-ella-nightshade89​, @writingkitten, @crowtoed, @doodleborg

---

A Decent Proposal

After work, Arnold went straight to his local suit shop, J.R. Henry, to look at their assortment of suits and shirts.

He had been a local customer for years, but only had the budget to shop in their clearance section. Luckily, the shop keep, Wallace Henry, didn't mind one bit.

Mr. Wallace, as he was known, saw Arnold as his regular and he loved having him as such. He was much more polite and patient than his other clientele.

So when Arnold walked through those big mahogany doors, Mr. Wallace was quick to greet him, his measuring tape safely secured in hand per usual.

“Arnold,” the older man cheered before he hugged him. Arnold laughed and hugged him back, with a back tap to boot.

“Hello, Mr. Wallace,” he greeted him.

“Well, hello to you too. Long time no see. I've missed having you in.”

“Sorry, life has just been a little crazy for me lately.”

“Oh, you don't say. What's been troubling you?”

“I was recently diagnosed with general anxiety disorder, so it’s been a bit hard to cope with. I'm trying to work around it or with it…whichever is better for me.”

“Damn, that's tough. Sorry to hear that, Arnold. My Lorraine has anxiety disorder too. It used to cripple her, until she got on that new fangled anxiety medication the doctors are shilling now. Maybe you should try that.”

“Thanks, but I'm trying to handle this with meditation and supplements. I'm not really a big medicine guy.”

“Completely understandable. Just a suggestion. Now, what can I help you with today? Need a new suit for a night on the town with the misses?”

He laughed.

“No, no. Nothing like that. I have a big presentation at work and I want to look nice for our new clients.”

And Alondra…mostly for Alondra, but he didn't need to know that.

“Oh, I see. Who's this new client, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Truly Brands. They’re considering dropping Loware to work with us.”

“Really?! They must be under new management because Ernesto Rivera and Marshall Lowe have been fighting over that account for decades. Marshall made a very lucrative deal with Roman True. Why would Truly Brands want to break from Loware?”

“Because Martin Lowe is nothing like his father and is sinking his father's stock shares and reputation with his ridiculous ideas, one being charging Rowena True, daughter of Roman, more for their lackluster software. Meanwhile, Alondra and the rest of Rivaware have strived to make a better, more innovative and cost effective product for our clientele, which is more than tempting to Rowena who is tired of dealing with Martin and his cronies.”

“I see. I always knew it was a bad idea to let Martin take over Loware. I never liked that bastard,” Mr. Wallace huffed, making Arnold snicker. “I'm not surprised that Alondra put you on the account to impress Rowena then.”

“She actually didn't. I reached out to Rowena with a deal that's hard to refuse. She just needs the rest of the board on board with this deal, hence our presentation tomorrow.”

“Wow, well look at you…taking initiative. I'm sure Alondra and Ernesto are very impressed with you.”

He smirked.

“Well, I haven't been the top seller for the past 10 quarters for nothing,” he bragged.

“Fair enough. Fair enough. Well, follow me. We got some new suits on the sale rack,” he droned on before Arnold stopped him.

“Actually, I wanted to look at the regular racks,” he clarified, making Mr. Wallace turn around, eyes wide. “I got a commission check today and I think getting a new suit would be putting it to good use. After all, my dedication to Rivaware is unmatched.”

And his dedication to Alondra, of course.

“Well, alright big spender,” Mr. Wallace teased. “I got some new suits I think you'd like. Since you got this new look going on. Don't think I didn't notice. You look sharp, Mack.”

“Thank you,” he chirped before he followed the old man to the center of the store.

---

One Thumb Down

“Beto, you should go back and check on Neveah. I can finish up here and close up for you,” Juan suggested, as he observed his manager still solemnly looking out the glass doors.

He had just been standing there, with a glazed look in his eye, while he was nervously biting on his thumb.

It was a nervous tick he had since graduating from thumb sucking, per Mama Millie’s manipulation with hot pepper paste as he got older.

Yes, the taste stung, but he learned that just nibbling on his thumb still did the trick without burning his tongue off.

And it did bring him the same comfort. So that's what he was doing now, as his mind kept racing about you.

“No, no. Juan, it's your day off,” he said, still looking out to the horizon behind the front doors. “I hate that I even had to call you.”

“Beto, it's alright. I don't mind. Nev is a great young lady and you were just looking out for her.”

“I should have never let her do a maintenance request,” he moaned, before accidently biting the tip of skin by his thumbnail.

“Fuck,” he hollered, before he groaned. “God, I'm a mess."

“We do crazy things for the ones we love,” Juan responded. “Beto, I know about your little crush on Nev. I know how much she means to you. She reminds you of Gina, huh?”

Bobby paused, before turning around to face the younger man at the front desk.

“What makes you think that?” he curiously asked.

“I remember how you described Gina,” he replied. “Nev is a lot like her, personality wise. I'm not a religious person, but I do believe that sometimes we are gifted ‘angels’ if we do some good in this world. You're a good man, Beto. Maybe, Nev was sent to you by Gina.”

He softly laughed.

“I am starting to believe that actually, Juan. I learned something new about her today.”

“And what's that?”

“She's a Bjork fan…”

“Like Gina,” Juan finished for him. “Let me guess, her favorite album is Post, right?”

Bobby nodded.

“Hmmm, so I guess our theories align and have some truth to them. Nev has been blessed to you by your wife. I mean I believe it. I know how much she cared about your happiness.”

“She did,” Bobby said with a warm smile. “I miss her so much, but I'm glad to have Nev around now. Gina doesn't seem so far away when she's around.”

“So I suppose that's why you let her do the maintenance request? To spend some more time with her?”

“How did you guess?” he jokingly asked, making Juan laugh.

“You're very obvious, Beto,” he chuckled. “But I'm wondering what you're still doing here? Go back to her place and check on her. I know it's eating at you. I know you didn't want to leave her.”

“It's inappropriate for me to like her,” he huffed.

“She won't be your intern forever, Beto. Don't miss your chance. Because between you and me, I think she likes you too.”

Bobby's eyes lit up when he said that.

“You think so?”

“I see how she looks at you…the way you two interact. You two are in love. You're just too shy to see it.”

He smiled, before scratching the back of his head.

“Thanks, Juan. I needed that little talk. But as long as she's my intern, I'd like to just stay friendly. But we'll see what happens when I'm not her boss anymore. Only time can really tell.”

---

Paulie and Dosie - Sneak Peek

(Author's Note: This fic is a genderbent AU. Also, Dosie is reader and her nickname is pronounced doe-she.)

“But now I wonder, were you a theater kid?”

She laughed.

“Yes, I was. Guilty as charged,” she admitted, before she took her first bite of her burger. “I was not good enough to pursue past high school, but I did enjoy it a lot. How about you? Did the acting bug ever bite you?”

You were about to answer her, when you noticed that some of the mayo on the burger began to drip from her lips to her chin.

You wanted to say something, but before you could, she lowered the burger from her face a little and licked it off with her tongue.

Her very long tongue, to clarify.

You felt a little woozy when you finally noticed that too.

Had her tongue always been that long and you just never noticed?

Because now you really wanted to see what that tongue could do.

“Oh, I'm so sorry,” she softly said, with a devious twinkle in her eyes. “I'm such a messy eater. Did I get all the mayo off?”

“Yep,” you swiftly answered, your heart racing in your chest.

She laughed.

“Oh good,” she replied. “And you were right. This veggie burger is really good. The best I've had in a while.”

“Glad you like it,” you moaned, trying to forget what you just saw so your mind could go back to normal, clean thoughts as she began to eat your melt. “And to answer your question, I did do a few shows, but at my local community theater and I stopped in middle school. It just wasn't for me.”

“I see,” she said, before she took another bite of her burger and licked her lips like so.

You were on edge as you saw her do it again, and then you knew she was purposely trying to tease you.

And man, was she hot while doing so.

“Have you ever seen Rocky Picture Horrow Show?”

“Only like every year! I used to go with my ex-girlfriend. Our local theater in Rochester hosted it every year.”

“Well, I've gone every year since college. I go to this off-Broadway theater to see it and it's amazing. Maybe I can take you this year?”

“I would love that!” she chirped, before you both reached for a fry. You both laughed before Pauline gave it to you.

So you paid it forward and dipped it in ketchup before you gave it to her to eat. She grabbed your hand and moved it forward, twirling her tongue around the fry like it was cherry stem before she pulled it into her mouth.

You were quite impressed by her little trick and she smirked when she noticed your reaction.

“If you like that, you'd love what I can do with a cherry stem,” she seductively bragged, before she whispered, “And a clit.”

You nervously laughed again.

[fandomsaremykryponite]

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.....

[somedaylazysomeday]

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

---

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!

[autocon23]

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!!

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