#boondock saints fanfic

[stellar-waves]

that one time

. . .

[ boondock saints : murphy + fem!reader ] fluffy february : prompt 2 ⚠ warnings: suggestive sexual content, mild language, pre-canon, short and sweet, written fairly quickly A/N: Finally some Murphy content here! Took me long enough. 😅

. . .

You feel his eyes on you. Exhaling, you put the car into park and meet his gaze. He’s fighting a smile while the cigarette smoke swirls around his fingers and escapes through the cracked passenger window. 

“What?” you hesitantly ask, your mind shuffling through all the possible answers. 

Murphy raises his eyebrows a little, still fighting the smirk that wants to split across his face. He keeps staring at you.

Usually, you can read his mind, but for some reason, today is not one of those days, and you feel incredibly frustrated because of it. “What?” you ask again with a little more force.

He raises his eyebrows a little more, slower than before, and his lips are still sealed shut. 

Now you’re annoyed, the kind of irritated only a MacManus can manifest. “What?!”

He finally cracks, his smile spreading fast as he giggles and takes a drag off his smoke. Murphy directs his exhale out the window, and turns back to look at you, those ocean-blue eyes shining in the afternoon light. “Ye remember that one time?”

Your eyes narrow in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Ye know…that one time?” he drags out, his eyes still locked on you with a hint of mischief. 

You shake your head. “Not following, hon. You wanna stop being so God damn cryptic?”

He chuckles and leans his face closer to yours. “Come on, lass…that ONE time?”

And suddenly, the answer hits you, sending an electric shock through every nerve in your body. “Oh my god…you mean…”

He smiles seductively, blinking slowly as he agrees. “Aye…when we…”

The memory rushes to the forefront of your brain, forcing your eyes to fall to his lips as your pulse quickens. “And then we…”

“Aye,” he says softer, his face now close enough you can taste him. 

You start to sweat, fighting the urge to rip his shirt off—because that one time was late at night and parked behind the building, not in the middle of the day on the curb of a busy street. 

“So…” he starts with a hum, “ye want some?”

God, yes, you want some. You want him. “I do,” you mutter, nodding and closing your eyes as you brush your lips against his. You kiss him sweetly as his mouth dances with yours. You feel his hand cup your face, and he hums again. 

“Very well then,” he mumbles against your lips. “Mint chocolate chip?” 

Your eyes fly open and you pull back, his hand still tangled in your hair. “What?”

“Ice cream,” Murphy states so simply. “I thought that’s what ye want, yeah?”

Your face turns bright red. “Oh…yeah, totally,” you try to shrug off the embarrassment, smiling weakly as you calm your nerves. 

He slides his hand down to your arm, leaning back with a knitted brow. “Wh…what did ye think I meant?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” 

And then his grin splits again, a full laugh falling from his mouth. “Oh shit! Ye thought I meant that one time we had se—”

“Don’t!” you hastily interrupt him. “That’s not what I—”

“But, ye were going to…” he laughs some more, covering his face with his hand that’s still wielding the cigarette. “In the middle of the day? Oh, love! That would’ve been…” he can’t even finish his thought because he keeps laughing. 

You rub your cheeks with both hands, finally giggling yourself. “Alright, alright, just go get your ice cream,” you playfully shove him.

He opens the car door, but stops with one foot out. “And then maybe after we can��ye know,” he suggests, raising his eyebrows again. 

You shove his shoulder again, pushing him out with a smile, “Go, Murph!”

. . .

[dixonsdarkelf]

New Girl in New England: Connor MacManus & Fem!Reader

Summary: This is your first winter in Boston, having recently moved there from somewhere warm, and it’s your first experience with snow. While trying to learn how to scrape the ice off your car, a certain Irishman offers his help.

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1k (this was supposed to be a drabble, but here we are lmao)

Warnings: I actually don’t think there’s any for this one!

A/N: Me, posting twice in one week? Crazy. Also, this is my first time writing for Connor! He’s really grown on me recently, and I got this idea the other day after going out into the snowy hell that is a Midwestern winter. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I’d love to keep writing with him. Also those eyes??? Are you kidding me??? Hello??? I kept the place reader moved from vague, so you can choose wherever. I hope you like it 🖤

“How do you even use this thing?” you groaned, spinning the scraper around in your hands. Your fingers trembled lightly as the bitter winter chill penetrated the material of your gloves, nipping at your skin. You’d severely underestimated how thick your hand protection should be.

This was your first New England winter, having just recently moved to Boston for work a couple of weeks prior. This was also your first go-round with snow and ice, and in trying to plan your move, you’d completely forgotten to learn how to acclimate to the weather. And now here you were—standing on the curb, your window coated in ice, with a tool in your hand that you’d never see before, let alone knew how to use.

In the throes of your frustration, you almost didn’t notice the friendly Irish accent cutting through the frosty air. “Yer new to this, aren’t ye?”

Taking your attention off your car and shaking some hair away that’d fallen in your face, you noticed a man had approached. He was tall, and even from a few feet away, you could feel he was having to look down to meet your gaze. His hair was a light brown, somewhere between pecan and hickory, and his sapphire eyes were piercing, nearly slicing right through the agitation fogging up your mind. And above all, there was his Irish accent. It was soft, easy on the ears, and quickly turning your heart into a puddle. You could listen to him talk for hours.

“Is it that obvious?” you sighed, keeping your tone light and sprinkling in a laugh, doing your best to mask your frustration, “just moved here.” You held up the tool in your hand, spinning it to show off the different angles. “Never even seen one of these before.”

“Ye need a hand?” he asked, gesturing to your car.

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t accept help from a stranger, a random man nonetheless. But something about his presence felt safe, warm, and comfortable. Still, you didn’t want to burden someone you didn’t know. “I can’t ask you to do that,” you protested.

He smiled at your opposition, his pearly whites on full display. His infectious grin made your heart skip a beat. “Don’t recall ye askin’,” he argued, “believe I offered.”

He was right, and you knew that. You had no idea what you were doing, and without some help, you’d likely be there all night. You exhaled deeply, your breath whirling around your head like cigarette smoke.

“You’re a saint,” you gushed, holding your ice scraper out for him to take. As he took it, you could feel the heat radiating off his touch through your gloves, and the small contact was already warming you from the inside out.

“Not a saint, lass.” You stepped back to give him room, and he began working on your windshield, first sweeping the snow off with the brush on one end of the scraper. You smiled softly, and blood rushed to your cheeks at the affectionate pet name. “Just wanted to help.”

You watched closely while he worked. He was precise, moving swiftly like it was second nature to him, like he’d done this a thousand times before. Because he probably had.

“Won’t that break the glass?” you inquired once he started using the flat end of the tool to remove the thick layer of ice on your windshield. He seemed to be using a fair amount of force, enough that you were worried about potential damage to your new ride. He chuckled, clearly amused by your naivety, the sweet sound permeating the cold like a heat wave.

“No, ye won’t break it. Ye scrape the ice off, not smack it,” the beautiful stranger explained, checking to make sure you were watching before he continued. Pulling your stunning peepers from his face was harder than you would’ve liked to admit, but you obliged.

After a couple of minutes, he handed the scraper back to you, your windshield now ice and snow-free. “There ye go. Should be good now.”

The smile you graced him with could’ve lit the entire city, and it made the Irishman’s heart flutter. “What’s your name?”

“Christ, I’m so sorry, where are my manners?” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Name’s Connor. What’s yers?”

“Y/N,” you replied, resting the scraper on your car across the wipers.

“Beautiful name,” he mused. When he spoke to you, he kept his gaze respectful, his baby blues hardly leaving your face or breaking eye contact. A small laugh slipped through your lips at his honeyed words. There was a sparkle in your eye when you laughed, and oh, did he love it.

“Well thank you, Connor,” you praised, nodding to your car and shoving your hands in your pockets, “for both the compliment and helping me with this.”

“No trouble, lass,” he assured, where were ye headed?”

You groaned softly and scowled. In the chaos of trying to de-ice your car and this stunning specimen stumbling upon you, you’d forgotten all about your original plans, which now sounded more like a nightmare. “Was supposed to head the store, but I’m just gonna walk to the coffee shop down the street instead. I’ll try driving in the snow another day.”

He seemed hesitant to ask his next question, but after a moment and another half-smile from you, he did. “Want some company?”

That little smile grew into a full one, making Connor’s stomach do backflip after backflip. “Yeah. I’d like that.” Waiting for him to take the lead, you strode up next to him, playfully tapping his arm with your elbow. “Be careful though. If things go well, I might ask you to teach me how to drive in this weather.”

He met your gaze again, his expression flirty this time. His tone was sincere, and there was a hint of something else. Excitement, it seemed—almost like he was looking forward to it. “Wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie @holdmytesseract @dixons-sunshine

Hit me up if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist 🖤

GIF made by me, sparkle and ‘continue reading’ dividers are by @anitalenia

[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]

HELLOY BITCHES!!!

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

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

We've finally reached season 3!!

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

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

Enjoy!!

Taglist:

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

[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.

[stellar-waves]

CONNOR! As a new dad! Ahhhh! I love this so much! "Like what you see?" He so would say that with a baby in his arms...(oh those arms).

Thank you for sharing, love! This made my night. 🩵🥹

certainly makes up for what i freaking did to him in my last story 🫣

Night Breezes Seem To Whisper “I Love You” | Connor MacManus x Fem!Reader

Summary: During another late night tending to your daughter, you and Connor had a heart-to-heart. It made you realize just how much he loved you and how much he appreciated everything you did for him.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: One joke/slight allusion to sex, possibly (most likely) OOC Connor.

Word count: 909

A/N: This is my first time writing for Connor, so if this sucks, I’m so sorry. But this man has been living in my head rent-free for the last few days, and I fully blame (thank) @dixonsdarkelf for it. Also, staying true to my bio, I dad-ified him lol (also an idea given to me by @/dixonsdarkelf). Anyways, I hope this is somewhat okay!

The light of the moon trickled in through and past the curtains, followed closely by the breeze. The show that played on the television served as soft, barely audible background noise, mixed with the soft blow from the fan, and when looking on the nightstand, the clock showed the time in bright red numbers. 3:37am. It was early, way too early to be awake, but you were anyway. You had been tending to your little girl.

It all still felt so surreal. Even after a whole month since you got to hold her in your arms for the very first time, you still had those moments where you couldn’t believe that it was real. That you were a mom. That the little girl currently being rocked by your partner was yours, and his. Sure, being new parents to a newborn wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t always all sunshines and rainbows, but the good moments far outweighed the bad, and it made it all worth it.

“I can feel you starin’.”

You smiled at Connor, watching as he softly and tenderly fed and rocked your baby girl. “Don’t mind me,” you started, leaning back in the rocking chair you were sitting in. “Just admiring the view.”

Connor’s beautiful ocean-like eyes flickered up to meet yours, that radiant smile that you love gracing his beautiful features. “Like what you see?”

“Oh, I more than just like what I see. I love it.” You stood up from the chair and walked over to him, wrapping your robe tighter around yourself. You stopped next to him and leaned into his side, feeling content as Connor pressed a loving kiss to your temple, the sound of your baby’s soft coos filling the air. “How did we get so lucky?”

Connor hummed, before a playful smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Teachin’ you about what happens when people have unprotected sex wasn’t on my agenda tonight, but I guess I can squeeze it in.”

You let out a laugh, albeit a quiet one as to not disturb your daughter whose eyes were just beginning to droop with tiredness. “You’re a jerk.”

Connor’s grin was bright enough to light up an entire room. At least, in your opinion. “And yet ye love me.”

“Against my better judgement.” You let out a small sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. “But seriously, I still can’t believe it sometimes.”

“I know how you feel, love,” Connor voiced in agreement. “I mean, just a year ago, we were still in Boston with shitty jobs and Murph and I had a bar tab to pay. And now—”

“We live on a farm in Ireland with your dad and brother, and have a baby we get to call our own,” you finished for him with a smile.

Connor nodded, turning his head to look at you. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you. I mean, you uprooted your life for me. Moved to the middle of nowhere, gave me her…” He looked down at the now sleeping baby in his arms, the bottle that he had been feeding her with nearly empty. “Just… Thank you.”

His heartfelt confession made your chest ache in the best way possible. The decision to move here with him had not been one you made lightly. It had taken you a while to process and come to terms with the fact that Connor and Murphy had become crime fighting vigilantes. And when Connor had asked you if you would go with him, both to keep you safe from the heat that had built up because of what they did and because he didn’t want to lose you, it had taken days of contemplation and coming to accept what had happened.

Agreeing to move with him might have been one of the best decisions of your life. Now you were safe, living on a farm and had started your own family.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you told him softly. “I love you, Connor. I would move heaven and earth for you if I could.”

Connor’s heart sped up at your words. His smile grew bigger, more sincere. He felt like the luckiest guy on the planet at that moment. Sure, you had your ups and downs, but at the end of the day—as cheesy as it sounded—your love overcame all of it. Nothing would make his love for you and your family go away.

“Love you too, lass,” he replied in a soft whisper. “I love ya more than you’ll ever know.”

“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of just how much,” you murmured, leaning forward to press a soft, tender peck to his lips.

Connor hummed and pressed a kiss to your forehead when you pulled back, before turning his attention back to the sleeping baby in his arms. “Get back in bed, lass.” He nudged his nose up to the direction of the bed a few feet away. “I got ‘er.”

You made no protest against his suggestion. “Okay,” you agreed, removing yourself from his side and taking a few steps back, eyeing the crib that stood against the wall. “Hopefully the transfer goes smoothly.”

“Pray for me,” he joked, a twinkle in his eyes as he turned around and stalked towards the crib, careful not to wake the baby.

Yeah, you decided right then and there. This definitely was one of the best decisions you ever made.

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

+Requests are currently OPEN+

+Commissions are OPEN+

[x Reader One-Shots & Drabbles]

[Caryl One-Shots & Drabbles]

[Series/MiniSeries]

[Werewolf AU]

[Headcanons]

[Incorrect Quotes]

[Events]

[Commissions]

[x Reader One-Shots & Drabbles]

[x Reader One-Shots & Drabbles]

[x Reader One-Shots & Drabbles]

[x Reader One-Shots & Drabbles]

[Series]

[Incorrect Quotes]

[Tabitha Carmen O’Sullivan|TWD]

[Julia Katherine Graham|True Blood]

+ You can call me Murda

+ I’m older than 20, younger than 50

+ I am a DV and SA survivor

+ I use writing as an outlet

+ I have a plethora of mental health issues

+ I have ranidaphobia

+ I am socially awkward

+ I am vertically challenged

+ I absolutely adore Norman Reedus

+ Daryl Dixon is my comfort character

+ Caryl is my OTP

+ Eric Northman is my imaginary boyfriend

+ My best friend is a three-legged Boxer

+ My soulmate is a 35lb pit bull mix

+ My favorite color is midnight blue

+ I am a notorious people pleaser

+ I want to make millions of friends

+ I don’t want to interact with any of said friends

+ I am ridiculously forgetful

+ I am an unintentional pen thief

+ Spiders can go back to hell where they belong

+ I thought pickles grew on trees until my 20’s

+ I get overwhelmed quite easily

+ I mostly write character x reader

+ I do have an OC but she will rarely be used

+ The only character x character I write is Caryl

+ I do write mature themes

+ I have no control over your choice to read

+ I do have a list of things I won’t write

+ I only accept requests once in a while

[shadowcitrine]

~ Daryl Dixon ~ Negan Smith ~ Connor MacManus ~ Murphy MacManus ~ Boondock Saints

<*> Thanks to @enlightndone for teaching me how to Tumblr, and gently encouraging me to make the list.

[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

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main masterlist. more from ‘the boondock saints’.

[stellar-waves]

arrow

. . .

[ boondock saints : murphy + fem!reader ] fluffy february : prompt 15 ⚠ warnings: none really, established relationship, canon-adjacent-ish, high sugar content A/N: This is more like it. Sorry for all the angst, guys. Also, this prompt obviously made me think of Daryl, too. And no I'm not knocking out more just to catch up. Hope you like it! 💗

. . .

“Close yer eyes.” You do as Murphy instructs, but slightly open one eye to peek at him. “No peeking!” He says with a laugh, quickly turning around and taking your wrists to move your hands over your eyes.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you oblige, wondering what he could possibly be concocting for you. After a long day at work, you’re honestly not really in the mood for a big surprise, but you love your idiot Irish boyfriend, and if he’s excited about something, then it’s all good. 

“Alright, open ‘em, lass.” You feel your cheeks blush before you pull your hands down; doesn’t matter how many times he calls you that, the way he says it makes you melt every single time. 

You open your eyes to find him standing directly before you, holding a small blue box wrapped with a white ribbon. Immediately, you know it’s jewelry, just from what you’ve seen in the movies and not from actual experience. And logic has you ruling out a very serious piece of jewelry that would be much too soon to even be a thought in your relationship. Plus, the size of the box is too wide and too shallow for that jewelry. 

Murphy’s entire face smiles, the blue of the box matching the color of his beautiful eyes. “Go ahead, yeah. Open it!” he encourages, handing the box to you as your nerves spark up the back of your neck.

You finally oblige, taking the box, carefully undoing the white ribbon, and lifting the lid. The box reveals a simple silver necklace with an arrow charm linked horizontally in the middle of the thin chain. You smile because it’s so beautiful, but you are also confused about why he would do this and what the occasion could possibly be.

“Just because I love ye,” Murphy affirms as if he’s reading your mind. He’s gotten pretty good at that, actually.

“It’s beautiful, babe. Thank you.” You look up and flash your famous grin at him, the kind that makes his knees weak. 

He breaks into a proper grin himself and reaches into the box with his tattooed hand to gently pull out the necklace. “Here, let’s put it on ye.”

His fairly large fingers struggle a bit to open the tiny clasp, but he finally does, and you twist your hair up off your neck as he reaches around. You love that feeling when he’s close to you, touching you, and it makes you genuinely forget your troubles from the day. 

“So there is a significance here,” he starts to explain.

“You mean, like, why an arrow?”

“Aye. It signifies direction, force, movement, and power. When it’s pointed to the left, it wards off evil. But pointing it to the right shows protection.”

You hum, smiling more and chuckling a little because that’s the most Murphy-like reason for his jewelry selection. All the times have you heard him and his brother remind each other that they’re “destroying all that which is evil, so that which is good shall flourish.” 

Your curiosity piques, making you want to strain to see which direction he’s placed the arrow against your clavicle. But you choose not to move, not to break the contact of his fingers grazing the back of your neck. “So which way is it pointing?”

Murphy grunts a soft laugh. “To the right. Because I’ll always protect ye.” He says it with such a soft yet direct assurance that makes you swoon. You let your hair down when his hands move down your shoulders, gently spinning you around so he can see how it looks, breathing out his reaction, “Beautiful.”

You gently touch the arrow sitting at the base of your neck, feeling the silver against your skin, and you pull at the waistband of Murphy’s jeans with your other hand. You press into him, and he dips his head down to reach your lips, kissing you soft and slow. “It’s lovely, Murph,” you whisper against his mouth. “Thank you.”

He presses his forehead to yours with a deep breath. “I mean it, love. I’ll always protect ye.”

. . .

[stellar-waves]

You’d severely underestimated how thick your hand protection should be.

I cackled at this for some reason. Either because I know this all too well also dealing with this Midwest Winter Hell, or because I am as mature as a 12-year-old and well...I just laughed out loud is all.

He smiled at your opposition, his pearly whites on full display. His infectious grin made your heart skip a beat. “Don’t recall ye askin’,” he argued, “believe I offered.”

🫠

“Not a saint, lass.” You stepped back to give him room, and he began working on your windshield, first sweeping the snow off with the brush on one end of the scraper. You smiled softly, and blood rushed to your cheeks at the affectionate pet name. “Just wanted to help.”

SIR. I CAN'T. YOU ARE A MOTHERFUCKING SAINT GOD DAMMIT.

He seemed hesitant to ask his next question, but after a moment and another half-smile from you, he did. “Want some company?”

YES. Always always always keep me company!

GIRL. Ok, we all know how much I fucking love Connor, and this is absolutely adorable! Good God, I would give anything to really be in this position. I just...I'm melted. You did such a good job writing him! 🩵🩵🩵

And that GIF is seriously beautiful. He's beautiful. lordilovehimsomuch

New Girl in New England: Connor MacManus & Fem!Reader

Summary: This is your first winter in Boston, having recently moved there from somewhere warm, and it’s your first experience with snow. While trying to learn how to scrape the ice off your car, a certain Irishman offers his help.

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1k (this was supposed to be a drabble, but here we are lmao)

Warnings: I actually don’t think there’s any for this one!

A/N: Me, posting twice in one week? Crazy. Also, this is my first time writing for Connor! He’s really grown on me recently, and I got this idea the other day after going out into the snowy hell that is a Midwestern winter. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I’d love to keep writing with him. Also those eyes??? Are you kidding me??? Hello??? I kept the place reader moved from vague, so you can choose wherever. I hope you like it 🖤

“How do you even use this thing?” you groaned, spinning the scraper around in your hands. Your fingers trembled lightly as the bitter winter chill penetrated the material of your gloves, nipping at your skin. You’d severely underestimated how thick your hand protection should be.

This was your first New England winter, having just recently moved to Boston for work a couple of weeks prior. This was also your first go-round with snow and ice, and in trying to plan your move, you’d completely forgotten to learn how to acclimate to the weather. And now here you were—standing on the curb, your window coated in ice, with a tool in your hand that you’d never see before, let alone knew how to use.

In the throes of your frustration, you almost didn’t notice the friendly Irish accent cutting through the frosty air. “Yer new to this, aren’t ye?”

Taking your attention off your car and shaking some hair away that’d fallen in your face, you noticed a man had approached. He was tall, and even from a few feet away, you could feel he was having to look down to meet your gaze. His hair was a light brown, somewhere between pecan and hickory, and his sapphire eyes were piercing, nearly slicing right through the agitation fogging up your mind. And above all, there was his Irish accent. It was soft, easy on the ears, and quickly turning your heart into a puddle. You could listen to him talk for hours.

“Is it that obvious?” you sighed, keeping your tone light and sprinkling in a laugh, doing your best to mask your frustration, “just moved here.” You held up the tool in your hand, spinning it to show off the different angles. “Never even seen one of these before.”

“Ye need a hand?” he asked, gesturing to your car.

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t accept help from a stranger, a random man nonetheless. But something about his presence felt safe, warm, and comfortable. Still, you didn’t want to burden someone you didn’t know. “I can’t ask you to do that,” you protested.

He smiled at your opposition, his pearly whites on full display. His infectious grin made your heart skip a beat. “Don’t recall ye askin’,” he argued, “believe I offered.”

He was right, and you knew that. You had no idea what you were doing, and without some help, you’d likely be there all night. You exhaled deeply, your breath whirling around your head like cigarette smoke.

“You’re a saint,” you gushed, holding your ice scraper out for him to take. As he took it, you could feel the heat radiating off his touch through your gloves, and the small contact was already warming you from the inside out.

“Not a saint, lass.” You stepped back to give him room, and he began working on your windshield, first sweeping the snow off with the brush on one end of the scraper. You smiled softly, and blood rushed to your cheeks at the affectionate pet name. “Just wanted to help.”

You watched closely while he worked. He was precise, moving swiftly like it was second nature to him, like he’d done this a thousand times before. Because he probably had.

“Won’t that break the glass?” you inquired once he started using the flat end of the tool to remove the thick layer of ice on your windshield. He seemed to be using a fair amount of force, enough that you were worried about potential damage to your new ride. He chuckled, clearly amused by your naivety, the sweet sound permeating the cold like a heat wave.

“No, ye won’t break it. Ye scrape the ice off, not smack it,” the beautiful stranger explained, checking to make sure you were watching before he continued. Pulling your stunning peepers from his face was harder than you would’ve liked to admit, but you obliged.

After a couple of minutes, he handed the scraper back to you, your windshield now ice and snow-free. “There ye go. Should be good now.”

The smile you graced him with could’ve lit the entire city, and it made the Irishman’s heart flutter. “What’s your name?”

“Christ, I’m so sorry, where are my manners?” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Name’s Connor. What’s yers?”

“Y/N,” you replied, resting the scraper on your car across the wipers.

“Beautiful name,” he mused. When he spoke to you, he kept his gaze respectful, his baby blues hardly leaving your face or breaking eye contact. A small laugh slipped through your lips at his honeyed words. There was a sparkle in your eye when you laughed, and oh, did he love it.

“Well thank you, Connor,” you praised, nodding to your car and shoving your hands in your pockets, “for both the compliment and helping me with this.”

“No trouble, lass,” he assured, where were ye headed?”

You groaned softly and scowled. In the chaos of trying to de-ice your car and this stunning specimen stumbling upon you, you’d forgotten all about your original plans, which now sounded more like a nightmare. “Was supposed to head the store, but I’m just gonna walk to the coffee shop down the street instead. I’ll try driving in the snow another day.”

He seemed hesitant to ask his next question, but after a moment and another half-smile from you, he did. “Want some company?”

That little smile grew into a full one, making Connor’s stomach do backflip after backflip. “Yeah. I’d like that.” Waiting for him to take the lead, you strode up next to him, playfully tapping his arm with your elbow. “Be careful though. If things go well, I might ask you to teach me how to drive in this weather.”

He met your gaze again, his expression flirty this time. His tone was sincere, and there was a hint of something else. Excitement, it seemed—almost like he was looking forward to it. “Wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie @holdmytesseract @dixons-sunshine

Hit me up if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist 🖤

GIF made by me, sparkle and ‘continue reading’ dividers are by @anitalenia

[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

[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.....

[ffsjustletmesleep]

hi there it's lime green again

I would like to req a murphy x male reader if ur comfortable (maybe w post bds2 murphy?) where reader is a detective and murphy annoys him as an indirect form of affection lol

- 🍋‍🟩

A/N: This was so fun to write, I hope you enjoy I’ve never written a male reader before so I hope this was okay <3 hope it’s not too short(make another req if it is :3)

Murphy MacManus x Reader

All Saints Day

Word Count: 390

Summary: Murphy annoying you while you work.

You sat in the room working on some paperwork, keeping an eye on the two, making sure they don't pull any funny business, Murphy came up to you and leaned over your shoulder to try and see what you were doing. “What’cha doin?” He asked, looking at you with a smile.

You frowned and looked up at him as he stood over you, scoffing and looking back at the papers. “I’m working, MacManus.” You spoke with a stern tone as you wrote some notes down.

He stood up straight and crossed his arms, biting his bottom lip. “Workin, aye?” He asked, keeping quiet as he watched you work.

“Yes, working. Now why don’t you go talk to your brother and come back when you’re finally ready to tell me what happened?” you asked. He let out a small, breathy laugh and moved over to sit on the corner of the table.

“Why would I do tat when I can just sit here an’ bug ya?” He sat on the corner of the table with a smirk. You looked up at him as your frown deepened, sighing and running a hand through your hair as you slicked it back before putting your hands together.

“Look, Murphy… Now is not a good time; I’m sittin’ here trying to figure out your case so I can see if I can get you out of here. Do you want me to stop what I’m doing and talk to you or get you out of here?” You huffed, giving him a deadpan expression.

He let out a chuckle and put his hands on the table. “Of course we want’ ta get out of here; we have to get back to our mother!” He smiled before getting up off the table, stretching and flexing his back, letting out a small ‘ow’ from his shoulder wound.

“Okay then, let me work, and I’ll come find you both when I’m finished with this.” You sighed and looked back down at your work. Hearing Murphy snicker before ruffling your hair.

“I’ll leave ya’ alone then, but don’t tink for a second I won’t be back, cause I will.” He patted your back and snickered before running off around the corner, going back to his brother.

You let out a soft sigh and held your face, groaning to yourself before you got back to work on the case with a small chuckle. “Stupid..” you mumbled to yourself.