#murphy macmanus fic

[dix0nspretty]

dix0nspretty Masterlist!

A list of all of my works! I also cross-post all my works on my ao3.

The Walking Dead

Daryl Dixon

X-Men

Logan 'Wolverine' Howlett

[cherrywitchgirl]

okay but we don’t talk enough about connor & murphy macmanus 😩 i need a good poly fic with them 🙏🏻

[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

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

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

“It’s very pretty,” you agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Close enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do ye- wait. Are ye Irish?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bee paused. “Are you sure about that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

[lattewithatwistoflemon]

I’m happy to see that there’s actually a lot of Boondock Saints content on here. I don’t know how old it is. And it’s like 90% Murphy. Most of which are x Reader fics. But that’s still fun! Can’t complain about that.

[itsmeatballworld]

please he’s so soft I’m in loveeee

He smirked, bowing his head as a result of his bashfulness. Your smile made him jittery, and the playful, flirty lilt in your voice gave birth to a flutter in the pit of his stomach, extending all the way up to his chest, nearly preventing him from breathing.

LIKE?! Ohmygod 😩💕 this was so cute

May the Road Rise

❧ Pairing: Murphy MacManus x Female Reader ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: none! ❧ Word Count: 5.2k

❧ Requested by @ohlawdthebirds

❧ Summary: A cross-country road trip turns interesting when you meet the MacManus brothers, and one of them steals your heart in the Crescent City.

❧ A/N: What a cute idea! Always fun to write for Murphy. He's such a sweetie. I mean, I like to write him as a sweetie. We don't get to see him being sweet very much in the movies but I like to think he's just a big ball of fluff (and a wee bit shy around ladies). I hope this does your request justice, my friend.

Kentucky… Is there even anything in Kentucky?

Gas. Gas is in Kentucky. That’s why you were stopped there, leaning against your pop’s old station wagon he’d handed down to you after he passed. You’d wished he’d given you some money, but you supposed you needed a car, so it would have to do.

You watched the digital numbers on the panel rise, indicating you’d be spending well over thirty dollars for gas, but it was worth it if it got you closer to where you wanted to go. 

Louisiana was about twelve hours away, by your estimates, and at this point you’d tasted enough of bitter gas station coffee to regret not just taking a plane, but now you were half way there, maybe a little less, so you thought you might as well stick it through.

You looked down at your wrist watch, noticing the little hand had just struck three, and if the pitch black darkness around you was anything to go by, surely it wasn’t PM.

God, I’m so tired, you thought. I could fall asleep right here.

The skid of tires and the roar of an old, dodgy motor prevented you from reaching your narcoleptic fantasy, pulling up right across from you at the opposite pump. 

It was a dingy, faded black sedan, maybe ten or so years old, paint chipped away and side mirror taped on with silver heavy duty duct tape. 

The man in the driver’s seat stepped out, wincing at the bright fluorescent light above the pump as he put on his sunglasses.

Perhaps you were just lonely, or bored out of your mind, but you studied his appearance as discreetly as possible—ashy blonde hair that spiked and stuck up in places, height of about five foot eleven inches (no more, no less), lips that pouted as he examined the prices on the pump’s display, black shirt and coat with light wash jeans, a nineties staple.

A young man in his mid or late twenties of basic proportions and appearance, but intriguing nonetheless. You were so out of it that at this point a tree squirrel could pass you by and you’d find yourself fascinated by it.

“You always stare at people at petrol stations?” he asked, and it took you longer than you would’ve liked to admit to notice he was speaking to you. “You all right, lass?”

You tucked your hands into your coat pocket and cleared your throat before speaking, as you hadn’t spoken to anyone in days, and you were sure you’d end up croaking.

“Fine,” you said. “Sorry, I was just spacing out.”

He removed his sunglasses, which he wore despite the intense, almost oppressive darkness of the witching hour. 

“On a road trip?” 

“How’d you know?”

He gestured loosely to the back of your car. “New York license plate,” he said. “That and most people who stop for gas at three in the morning are going cross country, I’d assume.”

You scoffed in mild amusement at the observation. “Yeah, I’m on my way to Louisiana.”

“What for?”

“Nothing,” you said with a shrug. “Just wanted to get out of the city… See some different states. Always wanted to go to New Orleans.”

“Well, as it happens, me and my brother are taking a trip to New Orleans, too.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking past him to see nothing but an empty passenger seat in his old jalopy. “Your invisible brother?” you laughed.

He turned, noticing his brother must’ve hopped out of the car when he wasn’t looking. His glance raised to the window of the twenty-four hour stop and rob, in which his brother could be seen haggling with the cashier.

“Musta run out of fags,” he said.

You scratched your neck awkwardly, not used to the terminology. “You mean cigarettes, right?”

“Irish,” he confirmed shortly. “Comin’ down from Boston. I’m Connor.”

He reached over the barrier between the gas pumps to shake your hand, and despite your initial reservations to touch any man whom you met at a gas station in the middle of nowhere at three AM, you felt obliged, and charmed enough, to take it.

“(Y/N),” you said. “Though I dread meeting new people like this… Once your car’s filled up, you guys are heading out, and I’ll never see you again. Weird, huh?”

He shrugged, a grin breaking out onto his face in amusement at your pondering. “Yeah, probably won’t ever see you again,” he said. “But it was nice knowing you.”

You smiled. How could you not smile? The man was charming, lighthearted, and amiable… And then the figure of his brother appeared from behind him on the other side of the car, folding his arms over the hood and peering at you from over Connor’s shoulder.

“Ahem,” he said, clearing his throat. “Hi.”

You tilted your head to meet his glance—soft blue eyes nestled in cunning, deep set slits for sockets, with raised, curious eyebrows of the most delicate proportions. 

“Hey, Murphy,” said Connor, turning to face the darker haired man. “This is (Y/N). We’re never gonna see ‘er again, so say somethin’ nice.”

His lip curled slightly into a shy smile, yet shyness could not completely eclipse mischief, as his eyes seemed to twinkle with it. 

He held his hand up lazily and waved your way. “Hey,” he said, mirroring his brother’s Irish accent. “I’m Murphy.”

“Nice to meet you…” 

You couldn’t quite keep your focus then, suddenly realizing there was something intensely intriguing about the quieter brother, who was equally as charming as Connor, but less outwardly so. From this brief interaction, what you could gather was that whatever intrigue you felt in him was beneath the surface, something one would have to mine for until reaching a vein of gold.

“Think your gas tank’s full, lass,” said Connor, awakening you from your brief stupor. “It’s a long way to Louisiana.”

“Oh, right.” You removed the pump from your car and replaced it on its holder before putting the cap back on. “I should go. Um, nice to meet you guys. Good luck on your road trip.”

“Aye, you too, lass,” said Connor, though you wish you could hear more from the darker haired brother, who simply watched your movements with a penetrative gaze. 

“Be safe,” he said softly. “Go n-éir a bóthar leat.”

You laughed, somewhere between a confused chortle and a girlish giggle at the idea of a handsome stranger speaking to you in the mysterious Irish language. At least, you assumed it was Irish.

“What does that mean?”

He smiled more widely this time, seemingly eager to speak to you again (and, indeed, he was).

“May the road rise up to meet you, lass,” he said. “Irish blessing. Means travel safely.”

Your tongue tied, you simply nodded and waved as you dipped into your car, hardly able to concentrate on your next move as the encounter had thrown you for a loop.

The last thing you were expecting was to meet two men at a gas station who weren’t creeps, and you didn’t get that feeling from them in the slightest. They seemed friendly, almost protective, like they’d rush to a stranger’s aid despite exposing themselves to personal risk. 

It helped, of course, that they were handsome… Especially Murphy.

Despite how little he had spoken to you compared to Connor, you found yourself repeating every word he said, even the Irish phrase you couldn’t recite for the life of you. His voice was beautiful, sweet and soft yet somehow deep and gruff at the same time. The way he looked at you was haunting, intoxicating, but in a good way. In a sweet, beautiful way. 

“I should’ve gotten his number,” you said to yourself, the solitude getting to you a little. You hadn’t heard anyone’s voice in twelve hours now as you crossed the state line into Louisiana, and though hearing your own voice helped a little, you just wished you could hear his again. “You dumb bitch. I mean, he could be a serial killer for Christ’s sake… A really, really cute serial killer.”

A few more hours of subtle regret and you were in New Orleans, the world much brighter in the mid-afternoon sunlight as you pulled into the Motel 6 parking lot.

Carrying your bags towards your room on the first floor, you passed a familiar black jalopy, with the side mirror duct-taped on, and a Massachusetts license plate. 

“No way,” you laughed. 

One on hand, you were ecstatic, eager to bump into the friendly Irish brothers at this dingy motel in New Orleans, and on the other, you were terrified that they’d think you had been following them. Of course, that would’ve been hard to do, since you had left the gas station before them, but still, what would Murphy think?

Ah, yes… Murphy.

You couldn’t get too caught up in that now, though, so you flung yourself into the bed in your hotel room, almost instantly falling asleep as your body melted into the cheap mattress. At least it was comfortable, or more comfortable than the car seat you’d been sleeping on. 

You awoke in the darkness, the bright fluorescent light outside your hotel room streaming in through the slats of the blinds as you rubbed your eyes to adjust to your waking state. 

3:42 AM the digital clock on your bedside table read. 

“Shit,” you huffed.

Your sleep schedule was beyond saving at this point, and filled with restlessness and slight disappointment, you trudged across the courtyard to the swimming pool, rubbing your eyes all the while. 

The humidity was already getting to you, and you desperately sought refuge in the water, dipping your bare legs in the blue light of the pool. 

A bead of sweat dripped down your brow, and as you wiped it away, a faint, but steadily approaching, voice called out to you. At least, if you weren’t imagining it like you had been.

“(Y/N)?” 

You turned your body to face him, the man who had been haunting your psyche (in a good way). “Murphy?” you laughed. “Oh my god, hi.”

He laughed, too, breaking out into that sweet, crooked smile you remembered from twenty-four or so hours ago.

“This is crazy,” he said. “I can’t believe it.”

You swallowed hard, hoping he wasn’t just smiling to hide his fear or anger.

“I, uh… I swear I wasn’t stalking you guys or anything,” you said. “I had no idea you guys were gonna stop here.”

He shrugged and chuckled under his breath. “It’s nice to see ya,” he said. “Was a little worried about you, actually.”

You smiled and patted the concrete on the edge of the pool beside you, inviting him to sit. Sure, maybe it was a dumb decision, but you were lonely, and he was cute.

“Why?” you asked, watching him roll up his jeans to dip his legs into the water. 

“Just… a girl out on the road on ‘er own? Lots of bad things could happen. It’s good to see you, though. Glad to know you’re okay.”

A heat bloomed in your cheeks, and you only hoped the blue light of the pool offset the red blush on your face.

“Thanks,” you said. “It’s nice to see you too… So, um… How long are you staying in New Orleans?”

You cursed yourself internally, embarrassed by your eagerness for him to stay a while.

“About a week,” he said. “We’ve got family here… Aunt and uncle. Probably gonna visit them.”

“Why aren’t you staying with them?” you asked.

He smirked at you. “‘Cause they’re pains in the ass,” he said. “Don’t wanna spend too much time with them.”

You laughed and nodded your head in understanding. “Yeah, I get that.”

“That why you’re on your own?” Now he cursed himself, thinking he’d gone too far. “Sorry, I mean…”

“It’s okay,” you said. “Um, yeah. My family’s a little… annoying. They didn’t want me to go on this trip, actually.”

He leaned back on his forearms, seemingly a little more relaxed around you now. Maybe he was warming up to you, at least, you hoped.

“Had to get out of there for a while,” you sighed. “Before I start graduate school in the fall.”

“Graduate school, huh?”

“Mhm. Got nothing else to do. Always wanted to see New Orleans, so here I am.”

You leaned back, too, kicking your feet underneath the water as you did so. “So, you’re gonna be visiting family all week?”

He shrugged, pouting his lips as he thought. He turned to you and smirked in that sweet yet mischievous little way of his. He was so magnetic, so… interesting. You just wanted to talk to ask him everything, find out every little thing about him. There wasn’t really anyone else you’d ever met like that.

“Nah,” he said. “Maybe just a few days out of the week… Gonna see the city, the sights and all that.”

“Me too,” you said. 

“Alone?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yes… Why?”

Please come with me, you thought. 

“Well, it’s just… Seems kinda lonely on your own, in a place you don’t know. Could be dangerous, too.”

You laughed, biting your lip as you prepared yourself to attempt to flirt. He was impossibly cute, after all, so there wasn’t any harm in trying. “Mhm, maybe I could use a nice, cute guy in my life to keep me safe… That would be nice, huh?”

His eyes blinked rapidly, staring at you dumbfounded in adorable shock, and a hint of disbelief that you were, indeed, referring to him. “Ahem, well, uh… Y-yeah, that would be… That would be good. For you. That would be good.”

You closed your eyes and sighed. For such a sexy man, he sure is pretty shy. 

“I mean you, Murphy,” you said more seriously now. “I think you’re a nice, cute guy.”

“Me?” he asked with a chuckle. “You want me to hang out with you in New Orleans?”

Your shoulders slumped, and embarrassment quickly settled in as you wondered if you were in the process of being rejected by the dreamiest man you’d ever met. Ever since you encountered him at the gas station, all you could think about was how magnetic he was, how gorgeous he was. Surely you’d just blown your chance with him, but at least you could say you tried. 

“Well, um, I mean… No, it’s fine. Forget it. You should spend time with your family, with your brother.”

He scoffed. “My brother? We spend every waking minute together, lass. And my family… I barely even know them. My ma just wanted us to pay them a visit. But, uh… I just didn’t think you’d want anything to do with someone like me.”

“What are you talking about?” you laughed. “You’re adorable, and sweet… I’d be honored to see New Orleans with you, Murphy… Murphy? What’s your last name?”

He smiled wide. “MacManus. Murphy MacManus.” He held out his hand jauntily. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss…?”

“(L/N),” you answered, grasping his hand firmly in yours. “The pleasure’s all mine. 

He cleared his throat once he realized he’d been holding your hand for too long, getting lost in your eyes and the feeling of your warm touch. “Um… s-so you think I’m adorable, huh?” he laughed awkwardly.

You shrugged your shoulders playfully. “A little.” That was the understatement of the century. He was the cutest thing you’d ever seen. “So, when are you taking me out on the town, Mr. MacManus?”

He smirked, bowing his head as a result of his bashfulness. Your smile made him jittery, and the playful, flirty lilt in your voice gave birth to a flutter in the pit of his stomach, extending all the way up to his chest, nearly preventing him from breathing. You, the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, thought he was cute. Adorable, even. Now, you were asking him to ask you out. Who was he to say no?

“How about tomorrow?” he asked. “Connor and I are spending the morning with my aunt and uncle, having breakfast or something, but maybe when I get back to the hotel I can pick you up?”

“That works,” you said, as if you had any other plans. You didn’t know anyone in New Orleans, only Murphy and Connor now, but you liked it that way.

Before you retreated to your room, you gave Murphy your room number and bid him farewell. Somewhere in the more negative part of your mind, you hoped he wouldn’t stand you up that afternoon, or simply forget you existed. Though you didn’t think he seemed that type of person, you were alone in every way, vulnerable and scared of being hurt. Maybe it would’ve been a good thing if he didn’t show up, in case he really did try to hurt you in an even worse way, but something told you Murphy wasn’t like that. 

You could only hope your intuition was right when a knock came to the door of your hotel room that afternoon. He greeted you with an awkward, crooked smile, one you had grown so fond of even after the two interactions you’d had with him. What could you say? You felt like you knew him for a lot longer than you had. Time seemed to slip away when you were around him. Hell, you couldn’t even recall how long you’d spent talking to him by the pool, or how long you were standing there looking at him at the gas station. He turned your brain into jelly, in a good way.

You set out with him and a long list of things to do and see, one you’d written out long before you set out on your solo road trip. On the top of that list was the New Orleans Museum of Art, followed by the New Orleans Botanical Garden. Murphy had some spots he wanted to see, too, including some old bars you’d never heard of and a Catholic church of gigantic proportions.

You quickly learned he was a devout Catholic, and he quickly learned you loved art and flowers… and beignets. You really, really loved beignets.

Café Du Monde was the last destination of an eventful day, and you were glad it was open twenty-four hours, as by the time you reached it, it was three AM once again.

“We have a habit of meeting up at three AM, huh?” he asked you, lifting his cup of café au lait to his lips. 

In the humid night air, with the twinkle of the warm-toned overhead lights hanging from the awning of the outdoor café, he never looked so good. Little did you know, you looked rather ravishing to him, too. Both of you were close to being drenched in sweat from the afternoon’s activities: running around town, catching trolleys, and admiring the rich, colorful city. The whole day was like a painting, with you and him somewhere amongst the brush strokes. 

Your cheeks bulged (rather adorably, he might add) as you chewed your beignet. “Mhm,” you hummed. “It’s nice, though. Best time of day, I think. Magical.”

He laughed. “Magical? Why?”

“‘Cause you’re here,” you said with a shrug, as if the answer was obvious. “Feels magical around you. That’s all.”

“Better than being alone?”

“Definitely.” You dusted the powdered sugar off your hands before taking a sip of your own café au lait. “This place is magical, too. It’s so… alive, you know? Not in the way New York City or Boston is alive. It’s different. I don’t know how to explain it.”

He nodded his head as he lit up his cigarette, a habit you’d come to know as his only imperfection, but even then, he wore it well. 

“It’s special,” he agreed. “Nowhere else in the world like this.”

“There’s jazz music everywhere you go,” you said. “Nice people, fun people. I think I could live here one day.”

He smiled at your whimsical gaze as you looked all around you, taking in every ounce of visual stimuli you could. He could almost see the shutter click in your eyes, as if you were taking mental photographs at every angle. “Why’d ya really come down here?” he asked.

You looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“You said you came down here before you started grad school… But why?”

You had thought that was enough of a reason: to go on a trip before you had to commit yourself to another one or two years of schooling, but you supposed there was more to it than that. 

“Well, I—I guess… I guess I wanted to do some soul searching, or something like that.”

“Soul searching? Like finding yourself and all that?”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Sounds stupid. Maybe it is stupid. I don’t know, I just wanted to go out here, alone… Figure things out. Make sure I’m doing the right things with my life, you know? Take the time to question stuff, think.”

He blew a puff of his cigarette and nodded in understanding. He looked like a poet, taking drags and occasionally combing his hand through his choppy brown hair, the other hand taking a sip of his espresso. 

“You figure anything out yet?” he asked. “About your life.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. Sometimes I don’t think you really learn things until after you learned them. God, I sound ridiculous.”

“No, no,” he assured you. “I get it. I do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’ll figure it all out. You’re smart.”

You blushed at the compliment. “Thanks. You’re smart, too.”

“Smart and cute?” he asked with a smirk. “You flatter me.”

“You’re fun to flatter,” you laughed. “I like… I like your smile.”

He was sure his eyes had turned heart-shaped. “I like yours too.”

What you remembered of the week blended into a haze of bright colors and lively trumpet melodies dancing through the air, characterizing each day and night you spent on the town with the once mysterious, yet charming, Irish fellow who quickly became an unlikely friend, and something more.

He kissed you under the light of a full moon, on a stone bench in the Lafayette Cemetery, which proved to be much more romantic than one would think. 

A wine-induced rendezvous in your hotel room on the last night of your stay had turned things more serious, as you ended up somehow tangled up in Murphy’s arms, the two of you naked and wrapped up in wrinkly, sweat-stained sheets. 

Even if the event was a little hazy, it was everything you’d ever wanted and more: it was love, you were sure of it. Leave it to you to fall in love with a stranger in a strange land at a strange time in your life.

What was more, he felt the same. He even told you that next morning, while his brother called out to him from the car, waiting to begin the drive back to Massachusetts.

“Hold on, you eejit!” he yelled to his brother before turning back to face your tear-soaked eyes. “You should drive back with us,” he said, holding your hands in his. 

“And leave my car?” you asked with a sniffle. “I can’t do that, Murphy.”

He shook his head in frustration, his unwillingness to let you go, to even spend a whole day without you, taking over his rational judgment. “I’ll drive back with you then,” he said. “Connor will be fine on his own. I can take the train back to Boston. Just let me go with you, love. Don’t want you on the road on your own.”

Your tears gave way to a smile at his offering. “I—I’ll be fine. Besides, you have to get back to work on Monday… You should get back as soon as you can.”

“That doesn't matter,” he said. “That stupid meat-packing plant… It’s nothing. I don’t want this to end.” His hands gripped yours tighter, and all you could do was tear up at the thought of never seeing him again.

“I have your number,” you said shakily. “You have mine. Boston’s not too far from New York. We can meet halfway. I don’t want this to end, either. Not one bit… So it doesn’t have to. It won’t. Right?”

He leaned his forehead against yours, now clasping your hands as tight as he could. “Right,” he said against your lips. You could feel his hands loosen, and begin to trail up your arms lightly. “I’m gonna miss you so much, love.”

“Murphy,” you sighed, and raised your hands to cup his cheeks. “We’ll see each other again soon. I promise. I only sleep with people I intend on spending a lot of time with, after all.” 

He laughed and leaned closer to kiss your lips, pulling away only to press a few more for good measure as he wrapped you up in a big hug. “Call me soon as you get home, all right, lass? If you don’t, I’ll call you until you pick up. Want you home safe.”

“I will,” you assured him. “You be safe too, okay?”

He kissed your cheek and leaned closer, whispering in your ear a faint, but clear as a whistle, phrase: “I love you.”

You beamed as you turned to kiss his lips once more. “I love you too,” you said, for the first time to anyone other than your family. Still, you knew you loved him. Maybe it was soon, but you knew it. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, and finally let loose his grip on you. “I’ll see you soon.”

You waved to Connor, who seemed eager to get on the road, but still made an effort to wave goodbye.

Just a few steps away from your car, you heard Murphy say one more thing: “May the road rise up to meet you,” he said, causing you to turn to face him once more, with tears in your eyes. They were happy tears, of course. You were happy to be looking at him once again. 

“May the wind be always at your back,” he continued. “May the sun shine warm upon your face, the rains fall soft upon your fields… And until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand.”

His voice faded, melting into the sound of your name, but still from his lips, in his voice. 

“(Y/N),” he said, waving his hand in front of your face. 

You hadn’t even noticed the car had stopped, and that you were parked in the dimly lit lot outside a Motel 6. 

“Think we should stop, huh?” he asked.

“Mm,” you hummed sleepily, breaking out into a yawn. “God, what time is it, baby?”

He looked down at his watch. Perfect, he thought. “Almost three, love. Tired?”

You unlatched your seatbelt with a huff. “Yeah… How long was I out?”

“Since Baton Rouge,” he said. “We’re in New Orleans now. Smell the beignets?”

You laughed deliriously, and sniffed with exaggerated gusto. “Mmm, yes. Lovely. I also smell the… cheap… ho—Murphy! This is our Motel 6!”

He smirked and shook his head as you rocked his shoulder back and forth in excitement. “Yeah, I know. Why do you think I stopped here?”

“Oh, God,” you laughed. “This is perfect. You know, I was just thinking about this place, in and out of sleep. It’s just like I remember it.”

“Five years and nothing’s changed… Hey, let’s check in.”

He all but dragged your exhausted, flimsy body to the front desk, and the two of you lugged your bags to your room, where Murphy suggested a trip to the pool, “to cool down,” he had said, but he had an ulterior motive. You might’ve noticed if he didn’t always have that look of impending mischief in his eye, but even after five years together, you still couldn’t discern it.

“This is crazy,” you said, dangling your feet over the edge of the pool alongside Murphy. “It’s just like I remember it.”

The squiggly reflection of the water danced across Murphy’s face, highlighting his cunning cheekbones as he smiled.

“Me too,” he said. “So are you.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah right.”

He reached his hand out to push your hair behind your ear, then stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. “Beautiful,” he said. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thank you… You stopped at this hotel on purpose, huh?”

He shrugged playfully, a now very recognizable mischievous smirk stretching across his face. “Maybe… Hey.” He reached into his back pocket, and from it procured a ring.

“No way,” you laughed, covering your mouth in disbelief. “You’re not proposing… Are you?”

You better be, you thought. God, you better be. 

He tilted his head, teasing you with his faux thinking face. “I don’t know,” he said. “I was just gonna chuck this here engagement ring into the swimming pool, but I wanted to see if you wanted it first.”

You glared mockingly at his sarcasm. “Ha ha, very funny.” You held out your hand with a grin, and you immediately knew you were seconds away from tearing up. “I will marry you, Murphy.”

“Hey,” he laughed. “Not so fast. I gotta make a little speech. Jesus Christ, love. A little excited are ya?”

“Well, I’ve been waiting for five years,” you said. “But go ahead. Just don’t make me cry.”

He cleared his throat dramatically before speaking: “(Y/N), I kinda like to think of our relationship as a road, or something. Like a never-ending road. We met on the road, and we still don’t really know exactly where we’re going, but when I’m with you, I feel like… like it doesn’t really matter where I’m going, long as you’re there with me. So, uh… I guess what I’m saying is that I wanna go down this road with ya as long as I can. Will you marry me, lass?”

You shook your head, tears welling up and steadily staining your cheeks. “You jerk,” you sobbed with a tearful laugh. “I told you not to make me cry, Murphy.”

He laughed as he reached his hand out to wipe away your tears as best he could, still holding the ring in his other hand. “So, is that a yes?”

“Of course I’ll marry you,” you said. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

You held out your hand once again, poised to receive the ring you’d been waiting for for so long. 

“Here it goes,” he laughed, sliding the ring onto your finger (hoping it was the right fit). Sure enough, it fit just perfectly, and the sparkle in your teary eyes almost outshined the sparkle of the diamond on your finger.

“Thank you,” you said. “You make me so happy.”

He leaned forward to hold you, to kiss you with the same passion as the first kiss you ever shared, not far from this very spot.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips. “Will always love you.”

“Murphy,” you cooed, leaning your head against his shoulder. “I love you too. So much…”

In that moment, and many times before that, you knew that road-trip you’d embarked on five years ago was a success—you’d found yourself.

Of course, not only had you found yourself: you found Murphy. That was a pretty good souvenir. 

~

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

Masterlist

[yarrystyleeza]

𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐚'𝐬 𝟐𝟐𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫!

Well, as the title suggests, I am turning 22 on January 30th (yes I can't believe it either), and it's a very very special number to me, I was obsessed with it since I was a kid—because of Taylor Swift's 22 of course (you have no idea how happy my inner child is now!).

However, I thought I should celebrate this very important event with you by hosting my second sleepover! (honestly I was planning to make this a double sleepover if I hit 300 followers before my birthday, but since I didn't, I really had to host a sleepover)

As usual, my sleepover will host games, questions, asks, and definitely, requests!!! <3

The sleepover will be a week long, from January 30th till February 6th, where you can submit asks and requests!

Note on prohibited things that I won't be doing or answering:

No nsfw/dirty asks, writing requests or questions, it's uncomfortable for me sometimes, and this is an all-ages-friendly celebration. No further elaboration, please respect this. <3

𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬:

Here's a list of the games we can play:

Kiss/Marry/Kill: you give me three characters and I will sort each one in one of these categories! (make it hard for me)

Would you rather: you give me two things/characters and I get to choose one that suits me better! (for example: night owl or early bird?)

Make an assumption: you literally make an assumption about me and I either prove it or deny it!

Never have I ever: you ask me about things I did or didn't do!

Exchanged Ships: basically, you give me a character that you find as my significant other, and I will give you a character in exchange and why I think it's the perfect character for you!

Random Q&A: you can ask me about anything, whether it's my favorite food or even what fabrics do I prefer to wear, ask whatever you want!

Girly Talks: just talk to me about any girly topic you want and we'll establish a good conversation! Let's talk about books or authors, favorite poetry pieces, maybe movies we loved in our childhood, or even your favorite outfits back when you were a 10 year old! Literally anything!

Rate My Music Taste: give me a song/artist and I will rate it from 1 (absolute flop) to 10 (total banger)! — (this is absolutely done just for fun).

I Wanna Write You A Song: start with a phrase and we will make a totally original song together in the reblogs!

Doodles: give me something simple to draw!

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬:

As for writing requests, I will be taking fluff/angst/violence (blood and gore—due to the nature of the characters I write for) x female!reader requests only. But of course you can request the prompt you desire. <3

As for the characters, here's a list of the fictional men that I would be writing for:

Matt Murdock/Daredevil

Foggy Nelson

Tristan Thorn

Michael Kinsella

Henry (from Eat Locals)

Daryl Dixon

(might consider writing for other Charlie Cox/Norman Reedus characters. example: Ian Hamilton, Owen Sleater, Scud, Murphy MacManus, etc.)

You can ask for prompt included in this list or ones you come up with yourself:

intimate moments / gestures that make me feel love / romantic rainy day prompts / gentle things that make me fall harder in love / fluffy comforting/sick dialogue prompts / lighthearted first kiss prompts / sparring prompts / forced proximity prompts / date prompts masterpost /

Note that I will be tagging the fic requests with #yuna's 22 birthday sleepover so they're easy to find, but they will be sorted in my main masterlist as regular requests! <3

tagging my moots to spread the word sorry for being a little too annoying hehe (and I tried to tag as much as possible but my memory is messing around with me I'm sorry if I forgot anyone): @v4leoftears @remonemo @fizanotfeeza @bunmurdock @bellaxgiornata @kal-0n @1988-fiend @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @floral-charlie-cat @farfromstrange @babygirlmurdock @mattmurdocksscars @itwasthereaminuteago @c-mrdck @xxeycisxx @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mindidjarin @little-miss-dilf-lover @shiorimakibawrites @tongueofcat @marytheweefrenchie @chvoswxtch @devilsmurdock @galaxies-and-moons-and-cox @acharliecoxedfan @folkloreandfall @murdocklorian @munsonownsmyass @abbyhaslongshorts @murc0ck @lazyxsquirrel @theradioactivespidergwen @xxdrixx @saintmurd0ck @softasawhisper @she-likesorchids @peterman-spideyparker @mattmurdocksstarlight @amberlynnmurdock @courtforshort15 @saltedlays @importantnightwerewolf @lene-loki

That's basically everything I have for my birthday sleepover, feel free to submit requests and games! Thank you for coming to my sleepover tonight! <3

[star-wrote]

☆ star’s daryl dixon masterlist ☆

smut = *

☆ coming soon ☆

-drunk daryl angst request

-daryl x fem!reader series rewrite

☆ moodboards ☆

-daryl’s sunshine

-daryl dixon’s southern angel

-comforting his girl in a thunderstorm

-daryl’s oceanside girl

-daryl and his girl after the prison fell

-showering with daryl

-daryl’s bookworm

-daryl’s photographer

-daryl’s forest fairy

-daryl’s healer

-daryl’s flower girl

☆ blurbs ☆

-riding his thigh*

-feral early seasons daryl*

-cumming inside*

-taking you from behind*

-prom with daryl + moodboard

-size kink*

-oral fixation*

☆ headcanons ☆

-nsfw alphabet*

-daryl’s music taste

☆ oneshots ☆

-need (a sex pollen fic)*

-summer lovin’ (angst + fluff request)

-leannán (irish!reader fluff request)

-vibe (a vibrator fic)*

-dream of me (nightmare angst request)

-georgia peach (summer writing challenge)

☆ series ☆

nothing here yet :/

☆ other NR characters ☆

-mo stór (murphy macmanus fluff request)

-scud headcanons*

[scudslut]

MURPHYYY MY LOVE

But All Your Flaws and Scars are Mine

Pairing: Murphy MacManus x Fem!Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: Just a drabble to get my foot in the door with writing Murphy.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, lass!” Murphy was still crouched with his arms shielding his face. “Damn near took my head clean off!” You winced an apology when his blue eyes peeked over the black sleeve of his coat. “What was it you were doing?” He stood slowly, his focus on the heeled boot now lying next to the doorframe.

“There was a goddamn spider.” You whined from your safe place on top of your dining table.

“Lord’s name, love.” Murphy chided gently, walking toward you while still eyeing the dent in the drywall. Once he reached the four-seater, he looked up at you with a lopsided smile. “Really take all that to kill a spider?”

“If I had a flamethrower, we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”

He chuckled, extending his arms toward you in offer to help you down. “Aye. Likely me that’d be needing the fire extinguisher.” You bent and placed your hands on his shoulders while he squeezed your waist, lowering you to your feet. “Why don’t I take care of it then?”

“Please.” You pouted, needlessly adjusting the collar of his coat before batting your lashes at him. “I’ll make sure to compensate you for your time.” His gaze darkened, a brow arching at your insinuation.

“Consider it done, love.”

[ffsjustletmesleep]

Masterlist ☘️

fluff - ☁️ Smut - 🔥

—————————————————————————

🏹 Daryl Dixon:

Fics

> Damnit, Woman. ☁️

> “Please?” ☁️

> Christmas Drabble

Series

Silent Bonds🏹(ongoing…)

> Chapter One - ☁️? │  >Chapter Two

Edits

Timeless

☘️ Murphy MacManus:

Fics

> Irish Love ☘️ - 🔥

> Headcanons - ☁️🔥

Edits

Gang Baby

Under Your Spell

🚬 Justin (Sunlight Jr.)

Edits

All Mine

[daryltwdixon]

Sooooo

I’ve been thinking a lot about Murphy MacManus… and potentially ….making a fic…..

[phoenix761fics]

Masterlist

Links broke on the old ones, so here's a single, much more organized new one. All fics tagged appropriately on their respective pages, including relevant content warnings. Enjoy!

The Boondock Saints

Eyes On You - PDA exposes one of Connor's kinks (Connor x reader x Murphy, smut)

Getting Mouthy - Murphy isn't the only one in trouble when he runs his mouth (Murphy x reader, smut adjacent)

The Grocery List - In which Connor learns not to snoop (Connor x reader, smut adjacent)

Just Being Neighborly - a locked door, a broken elevator, and the beginning of a night they’ll barely remember (Connor x Renata x Murphy)

Last Rites - the Saints’ final mission (angst, MCD)

Starving - Connor and Murphy loving on their lady (Connor x reader x Murphy, smut)

Two Saints and an Archer - Connor and Murphy MacManus were vigilantes on a mission from God before the zombie outbreak, now God only knows how they ended up with Daryl Dixon, reclusive redneck and crossbow extraordinaire. There’s no doubt the three of them can survive the apocalypse, but can they survive each other? (gen fic, crack, crossover)

Warrior Shepherds - They were called to destroy evil, but crossing paths with a wayward soul meant compromise. And in compromising, the MacManus brothers get more than they bargained for. (Connor x Renata x Murphy)

The Phantom of the Opera

Another Alternate Ending - didn't the Persian give Raoul a gun? (gen fic, crack)

Supernatural

A Dangerous Game - Ten years. No more and no less. Now the clock has run out and it’s time to negotiate a new deal with the King of Hell. (Crowley x OFC/reader)

A Work Of Art - after sealing the rift and trapping himself in an alternate dimension, Crowley gets the chance to observe humanity (Crowley x plus-size reader, fluff)

The Familiar Winchester - a spell of Rowena’s has unexpected results (gen crack, Sam and Dean)

The Fast Lane - After Rowena’s magic brought her back from the dead, Charlie still can’t find any peace. On the open road, with the witch as her reluctant companion, there’s no telling where she’ll find it. (gen hurt/comfort, Charlie and Rowena)

Friction - Friction: 1.) the clashing between two persons or parties of opposing views, 2.) the force that resists motion between two bodies in contact (Crowley x Gemma, smut)

Geek Squad - It's a quiet afternoon in the bunker until disaster strikes. (gen humor, Sam and Dean)

Going Up - "One aspect of humanity it was taking time to get used to was how bloody slowly they had to move." (Dean x Crowley, smut adjacent)

Graceless - After his release from the Winchesters’ dungeon, Crowley’s hold on the throne of Hell is more vulnerable than ever. Determined to strengthen his claim, he seeks to produce an heir with his mistress, young Annabel Allan, a human with no family and a powerful secret she doesn’t know she keeps. (Crowley x Annabel)

Heir Of Nothing In Particular - On the edge of another apocalypse, Cas and Crowley contemplate life, emotion, and all things human. (gen fic, Cas and Crowley)

Hell And Apathy - “Sam and Dean, but not her Sam and Dean…she trusted her friends with her life, and whatever the hell was going on with them right now…they were far from the men she knew.” (demon!Dean x reader x soulless!Sam, smut)

Howling - “The court was nearly returned to normal…as normal as Hell can get, at least…” (gen, Crowley and demon!Dean)

Original Prankster - Your favorite fictional hunter turns up in your kitchen, and your boyfriend knows more about it than he’s letting on (Gabriel x reader, crack)

If You Need Anything - when everything starts getting to you, your friend Cas is there to help you keep going (Castiel x reader, hurt/comfort)

Knock First - no one ever said hunting was glamorous, especially not when working with a demon who loves pushing people's buttons (Crowley x reader, humor)

Pie and Produce - kitchen fluff (Dean x Tara, fluff)

Ridiculous And Needy - “You really need to lock your doors. Anybody could sneak into your room and leave a few surprises in your closet.” (Crowley x reader, smut adjacent)

Roadside Assistance - “…when Crowley got the text from the bunker’s other resident, he didn’t think anything of it…” (Crowley x reader, FicFacers 2020)

She’s Buying A Stairway To Heaven - “His grip felt a lot more reassuring than any stranger’s had her entire life, but she supposed being menaced by a girl who committed suicide fifty years prior had a way of making things like that a little less odd.” (gen casefic, Dean and OFC)

Something You Don’t Know - a few mishaps on a hunt leads to a few confessions (Sam Winchester x reader, fluff)

Topeka Calling - Cas has caller ID. That hunter from Topeka has an itch. Dean just wants a refill. (gen humor, Cas and Dean)

Welcoming Committee - A tragedy prompts a new start for Sam and his son Jack (fluff AU, Sam and Charlie)

Why Can't There Be A Santa? - "There's no point in wasting that, because there's no bearded guy in a red suit coming to drink it." (gen fluff, Weechesters)

With The Touch Of A Button - One last End Of All Things, one last solution (gen crack, Team Free Will 2.0)

The Walking Dead

Bad Influence - “Her warmth was sinking under his skin until it felt like a little fire flickering through him…her voice soft and her words so full of that hope he was starting to think nothing could destroy…” (Bethyl Smut Week 2018)

Blue Into Black - Beth was a good girl, but something about Daryl Dixon made her want to be bad. Sequel to "I Don't Mind" (Bethyl Smut Week 2018)

Can't Tell Her No - Beth found something in her cell, and she can't wait to try them out (Beth x Daryl, smut)

Caught Staring - Beth goes for a walk in the prison yard (Summer of Bethyl 2018)

Entertaining - Beth is expecting two certain someones for dinner, and nothing could possibly go wrong (AU, Brickyl Week 2018)

Get Bit - Maybe if he’d just left that damn door closed… (Bethyl Smut Week 2018)

I Don't Mind - He’d never done anything like this before, never had an ongoing thing with someone. Whatever this “thing” was, cause damned if he knew. He’d never wanted to hold someone’s hand before, and he’d damn sure never wanted to kiss someone…not before Beth. (Bethyl Smut Week 2018)

Keep Singing - Daryl in Alexandria (Beth x Daryl, angst)

One More Song - The war is over and peace has been a long time coming, and it comes with someone Daryl thought he’d never see again (Bethyl Smut Week 2018)

The Parting Glass - a long night with memories and regrets (Negan x Lucille, angst)

Robin and Marian - They called him Robin Hood… (AU, Beth x Daryl)

Rushing, Racing, Running - They always had to be ready to run (Summer of Bethyl 2018)

Take Care Of It - Beth has been thinking about Daryl, and she’s kept it to herself so far. Now, though, she might let him hear about it. (Bethyl Smut Week 2018)

Talk Like That - You don’t talk back to him like that and get away with it. (Negan x reader, smut)

Trade You - “He needed somewhere to cool off, somewhere with a decent breeze that wasn’t crowded with people seeking his attention…” (Negan x Wendy)

Wake Up, Dollface - Negan visits after a shared glance (Negan x OFC, smut)

While You're Awake - Daryl can't sleep, and Beth doesn't want to. (Bethyl Smut Week 2018)

Why Ain't I Running - They never built a wall that high/Or made a chain that strong/And God ain’t never made a place/I felt like I belong (Bethyl Smut Week 2018)

Support your local scribbler! Likes are good, comments are better, and reblogs are best of all. ❤️

[dixons-sunshine]

I am dead from the cute. Murphy, my love <33

“𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲“

*Fem!Reader*

*AN* This is my first time posting something I’ve wrote so it won’t be the best. I hope you can understand who’s saying what. I just wanted to try writing a short thing about Murphy having a crush on the reader and getting all nervous because of her as she helps bandage him up after another bar fight :)

Just a small warning for some readers if they find this triggering there is mentions of swearing, wounds/blood.

————————————————————————

꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂

————————————————————————

“Ye think she’ll be mad at us…?”

Conner looks to Murphy. He scoffs. “She’ll be used to it by now Murph…” Murphy chews at his thumb. “I jus’ feel bad…” Conner smirks and laughs quietly before he knocks on your door.. “Langer..” He says under his breath. Earning a smack to the back of his head from Murphy. Conner retaliates, laughing and teasing his twin in their native tongue about how much of a pussy he is for not being able to tell you how he feels, only helping to fuel Murphy’s anger.

—————————————-

You were in lying in the not-so-warm ’comfort’ of your bed, staring at the ceiling. You had given up on trying to get comfortable or warm. Winter was one of the many things you hated about living in Boston. As your eyes unfocus, the view of the ceiling becomes fuzzy . A knock at the door brings you out from your trance. You already knew who it was. You manage to heave yourself up out of bed, wrapping your blanket around your shoulders before making your way to the door. Your fingers weakly rake through your hair. You knew the boys wouldn’t care if your hair was messy, you had known them for almost two years now, plus you had seen them in much worse states. Opening the door your prediction was right. Conner and Murphy stand there, bruised up and beat. Again. You sigh “Another bar fight?”

The boys share a look before they nod “Was Murph’s fault” Conner teases, resulting in another slap from the alleged ‘culprit’. You open the door fully and let them inside. Murphy stands at the door beside you as Conner walks to your fridge, searching for any alcohol. You watch Conner before your attention was turned to Murphy as he gave you a gentle nudge “Jus’.. Jus’ wanna say sorry ‘bout this Y/N… And sorry if we woke ye up..” Murphy seemed shy almost, or ashamed. His gaze fluctuating from you to the ground or his fidgeting fingers. You just shake your head “Im used to it now Murphy…” Your smile could be heard in your voice. Murphy nods subtly “And I wasn’t asleep anyway..”

Conner finds a beer and he smiles to himself. He turns his head towards you and Murph, noticing how cowardly you made his brother. He chuckles. Murphy was always confident with women, but with you it was a whole new story. He hadn’t had feelings for a girl the way he did for you before. It was all new and confusing to him even after two years.

You look at Murphy, your fingers find their way to his hand, cupping around it and giving it a light squeeze. Murphy was glad it was only dimly lit where you both stood as he feels his face burn “You okay Murphy…?” He nods and shifts nervously. “Jus’ in pain..” He lifts up his shirt and a bloody cut comes into your view, then another higher up. The burning sensation travels through his body as he watches your eyes go down it. Conner just plants himself on your couch like he lived there, which the they both practically did. He flicks through the channels till he finds a good enough movie. The darker haired twin lets you lead him into your kitchen. His cerulean eyes follow your movements as you reach up and grab the first aid kit. Everything you did just seemed so perfect to him, like you were an angel.

————————————————————————

꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂

————————————————————————

“Fuck..”

Murphy winces as the alcohol wipe makes contact with his broken skin. Murphy closes his eyes, leaning his head back and wishing you were on your knees in front of him for a different reason than to clean him up after some stupid bar fight. Another bar fight. The fourth one this week. You pat his knee “Think you need stitches Murph” His eyes shoot open. You look at him, struggling to keep your laugh in until Conner laughs for you. “Don’t tease me Lass..” Murphy begs softly. “Dúirt tú liom gur thaitin sé leat nuair a dhéanann sí” Conner found himself so funny. Murphy shoots him a sour stare. “Tá sé ceart go leor nuair a dhéanann sí é” Conner laughs. Him and Murphy watch as you clean his cut then the other, wrapping the gauze around his abdomen and ribs after adding a cotton pad under it. “All done..” You pat his knee again. He opens his eyes and he looks at you, then his stomach. He gives you a sheepish smile and he pulls down his shirt “Wait” You go to your room, grabbing one of Murphy’s shirts from your bed. You had been wearing it earlier. You hand it to him and he changed into it.

You perch down between your favourite pair of twins, well the only two you knew. You all watch the random film Conner had picked when suddenly he starts giggling a little. You and Murphy look his way. “Sorry, I was jus’ thinkin’ bout’ the look on Murph’s face when ye said bout’ stitchin’ him up” Your joke was found very amusing by Conner but not so much with Murphy. “Big baby ye are Murph, ye know that?” You look at Murphy, wanting to see his reaction. He didn’t look too happy with Conner “I’m not a fuckin’ baby..” He says “Ye fuckin’ are, isn’t he Lassie” Conner nudges you. You look at Murphy, smiling a little. You lean in and wrap an arm around his shoulders “Aye…” You raise your brows “My big baby..” You tease, kissing his cheek. Conner laughs and Murph turns red “Quit it..” He mumbles, lowering his head to avoid Conner seeing his evident blush. You laugh softly “Okay.. okay I will baby” You smile. Murphy looks at you. His lips pulling at the sides to form a smile. You all laugh. After around half an hour the movie ends. You look at Conner who was fast asleep, then towards Murphy who was almost there too. You smile “Come on..” You stand up.

“Mhm?” Murphy opens his eyes. He sees you stood in front of him with your hand out. He takes it. You take him to your bedroom. Laying him down. You nestle in beside him. He was so warm. You turn to your side and rest your head on his chest. He blushes. He looks at you before resting his head back on your pillow. He feels you pull up the covers. You talk for a short while till you notice the slow in his speech. You both say goodnight, giving each other a kiss on the head before falling asleep.

————————————————————————

꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂

————————————————————————

The end.

I don’t know how many people will read this but I just wanted to try my hand at writing and try writing for Conner and Murphy. Also the translations are probably wrong so sorry I literally just used google translate. I have read through this a few times but there will most likely be some spelling mistakes.

I hope anyone who reads this likes it and if you want more sorta ‘stories’ like this then let me know and I’ll probably do requests too. I have a few more in my notes which I haven’t bothered finishing but I want to write one of these for Scud next so tell me if you’d want that, I’m not to sure what it’ll be about though. (^‿^✿)

[chishiyasan]

FIC RECS

animanga

ALICE IN BORDERLAND

• chishiya shuntaro x reader

• niragi suguru x reader

ATTACK ON TITAN

• levi ackerman x reader

• reiner braun x reader

JUJUTSU KAISEN

• gojo satoru x reader

• kamo choso x reader

• geto suguru x reader

TOKYO REVENGERS

• sano manjiro x reader

• kokonoi hajime x reader

• ryuguji ken x reader

ONE PIECE

• roronoa zoro

other

CILLIAN MURPHY MISC

• tommy shelby x reader

• jonathan crane x reader

• william killick x reader

• henry wilson x reader

• robert fischer x reader

• raymond leon x reader

• lenny miller x reader

• jackson rippner x reader

• emmett x reader

GOTHAM (series)

• edward nygma x reader

NORMAN REEDUS MISC

• daryl dixon x reader

• murphy macmanus x reader

STRANGER THINGS

• eddie munson x reader

• steve harrington x reader

QUEEN (band)

• roger taylor x reader

[spncupcake]

Murphy MacManus Masterlist

Norman Reedus Char. Masterlist

Fav ✨

Under Pressure 18+ Minors DNI fic rec ✨

Kiss Me, I’m Irish 18+ Minors DNI fic rec

[red-meat-my-beloved]

Remember this post? Well i wrote the fic.

Not SPN but i figured the venn diagram of SamDean enjoyers and ConnorMurphy enjoyers is basically a circle

A Matter of Privacy (3890 words) by thewrongsideofmorality Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Boondock Saints (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Connor MacManus/Original Female Charcter(s), Murphy MacManus/Original Female Character(s), Connor MacManus/Murphy MacManus Characters: Connor MacManus, Murphy MacManus, Rocco (Boondock Saints), Greenly (Boondock Saints), Donna (Boondock Saints), Original Characters Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Homophobia, POV Outsider, only the last chapter is explicit Summary: The appartment looks like a hellscape without even a sliver of privacy, which begs the question: If one of the brothers wants to have sex, how do they manage? Here are six proposed hypotheses.

[autocon23]

I'm just gonna do a single link for the story and just reblog the same link over and over again woth each new chapter.

Anyway, chapter 44 is up and posted. I known didn't make a post about chapter 43, but I was busy.

Enjoy!!!

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