#the boondock saints fic

[illiana-mystery]

WIP Wednesday

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

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

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

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

---

A Decent Proposal

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello, Mr. Wallace,” he greeted him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smirked.

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

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

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

And his dedication to Alondra, of course.

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

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

---

One Thumb Down

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He softly laughed.

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

“And what's that?”

“She's a Bjork fan…”

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

Bobby nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bobby's eyes lit up when he said that.

“You think so?”

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

He smiled, before scratching the back of his head.

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

---

Paulie and Dosie - Sneak Peek

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

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

She laughed.

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

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

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

Her very long tongue, to clarify.

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

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

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

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

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

She laughed.

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

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

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

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

And man, was she hot while doing so.

“Have you ever seen Rocky Picture Horrow Show?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nervously laughed again.

[cherrywitchgirl]

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

[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.

[hellscupboards]

no one:

me, drunk: do you think matt knows about the boondock saints

[somedaylazysomeday]

Na Buachaillí - Part One

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

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

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

Word Count: 6,800

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

Next | Masterlist

---

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

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

“It’s very pretty,” you agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Close enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do ye- wait. Are ye Irish?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is everything okay?” you asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bee paused. “Are you sure about that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

[livingdeadblondequeen]

Boondock Saints Fic Rec

So I told @bringinsexybackk69 I was going to do this a few weekends ago but I finally did it. I know I have read more, I just need to dig them up. Most of these have smut.

Connor x Reader

Elevator

Murphy x Reader

Smoldering

An Irishman and a Spider

Risk It All

The Couch 

Reader x Both Twins (No Twincest, the reader is just a lucky bitch who has a MacManus harem)

All or Nothing

Love in an elevator

Everybody Knows They’re in Love

Boondock Saints OC Arc (Long fic)

Happy Birthday Love

@autocon23 whole set of series too of course!

@littlegodzilla @minervadashwood @green-eyedladywrites @phoenixblack89

[stellar-waves]

An update of sorts, as I have a few goals for Staring Down the Sun...

First, I told myself I'd keep the story within 35 chapters (it was 30, but then I expanded it a little once I got going). That said, I'm nearing the end of the story itself. And of course that means I'm overthinking it, worrying what others think of it, etc... It's to the point that I need to take a bit of a break. I have the next two chapters done, but I need to step back from everything past that. So updating is just going to go a little slower for now.

I also told myself I'd only do a few drawings here and there for it, but now I'm actually wanting to do one for each chapter. Sometimes the writing gets done before the drawing, and then the drawing gets done before the writing which honestly sparks more writing. That's normal, right?

I can't help finding little inconsistencies in the drawings, or just things that need to be adjusted in general. I'll most likely go back and fix them at some point, but for now, if I think it's done, I'll go ahead and share it or add it to the chapter. (I can always go back and update the pics later.)

But mainly, I just wanted to put this out into the internet universe that I will finish this story. It's been incredibly cathartic to create, and make something for myself because so much of my life is spent taking care of everyone else.

To everyone and anyone giving this crazy thing a chance, thank you so much. 💖

[kinnoth]

Did I just miss it or has nobody written a supernatural/boondock saints crossover yet where the actively sacrilegious Winchesters who hunt biblical demons meet the religious fruitcake macmanus's who just shoot regular dudes?

[marianomoreno]

the devil's carnival had such a huge impact on me when i was a kid like it really stuck

[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)

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

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)

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)

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)

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)

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. ❤️

[illiana-mystery]

Here it is! The genderbent Paul Smecker fanfic I mentioned a little while ago. I must admit that I recently rewatched the movie and I fell in love with Smecker's female disguise all over again. 😅 So that's where this fic came from. Read the summary to this fic below: 

After a rough breakup and another moment of self-realization after moving out of her parents house, Dosie (reader) finds herself ready for another relationship. Knowing this, Dosie's best friend sets her up on a blind date with a slightly older NYPD police officer, Paulie. After hitting it off, both Dosie and Paulie realize that not only do they have a lot in common, but they're both working through growing post their breakups. Will their relationship stand despite this or will their past pain and Dosie's unapproving family break them apart?

Author's Note: This is a fluff/smut WLW fic between genderbent Smecker and plus-size cis female reader. It's gonna be a pretty wholesome lesbian love story, because we need more of that. We really do. 😁😊

Taglist: @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky​, @doodleborg, @braindead94, @lost-in-the-forest-again​

Let me know if you want to be added to this taglist for updates. 😉

[bensonstablers]

I was tagged by @sothischickshe (thank you!!! 🥰) to answer 20 questions for writers:

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

205.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

609,094

3. What fandoms do you write for?

fandoms i've written for include:

Law & Order: SVU / L&O: Organized Crime

Good Girls

Gotham

Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel

Criminal Minds

Graceland

Stranger Things

The Walking Dead

Riverdale

Castlevania

Preacher

Four Brothers

Outer Banks

Gilmore Girls

while no longer available, in the past i've also written for:

Fast and Furious franchise

MCU / Marvel

Boondock Saints

Hocus Pocus

From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series

DC

(plus more i'm probably forgetting about)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Shared History (Good Girls/Brio)

Degree of Separation (Good Girls/Brio)

Milkshakes (Good Girls/Brio)

Deep Sense of Belonging (Good Girls/Brio)

Sacred Art of Kissing (Good Girls/Brio)

5. Do you respond to comments?

i read all of them for sure but i'm terrible sometimes at responding although i do try my best

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ooft, okay. there's probably more than this but the following have major character death warnings that could very well be classed as angsty lmao:

i wrote this little ficlet: Gone (SVU, bensler/EO) in which a raid goes wrong and it's just pain from start to finish and then there's Until Long After She Takes Her Final Breath which is a Good Girls/brio fic in which their reunion at the beginning of season 3 goes very differently.

Why don't we go to Venus? is another Good Girls/brio fic in which the summary is: Rio killed her and that was supposed to be the end of it but Beth doesn’t seem to be done with him quite yet.

that one is probably my angstiest overall but the ending is probably the least angsty bit about it??? haha

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

honestly? i have no idea and i have no clue how to check 😭😂

8. Do you get hate on fics?

there was someone going around the SVU/OC fandom leaving weird hate comments on people's stuff (anonymously) and i got one but while it felt rude, it didn't feel like hate, but also it felt like it was supposed to be hateful, y'know? pretty sure i just deleted it though (i for sure ignored it) 😂

but generally, no. i'm lucky to say that i tend to avoid hate on social media and that includes fanfiction.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i have done and the variety isn't huge but it's there? i guess?

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i have done! beyond the obvious (where shows, etc share worlds), i did a boondock saints/the walking dead one (which was also co-written) because norman reedus stars in both 😂

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i'm aware of?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

again, not that i'm aware of

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes! the aforemention boondock saints/the walking dead fic was co-written on ff.net and i co-wrote (with the same person), a fast and furious fic.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

i lost myself a ton in writing olivia/elliot from svu/organized crime as well as beth/rio from good girls so they'd probably battle it out for top spot.

BUT

if i'm being brutally honest, my all time favourite ever to write were fast and furious ships 😂 especially the OGs (specifically vince and leon) with my OCs (although there were canon ships i loved to write too!). it was just so fun and freeing and i constantly think about it.

(i also loved when i wrote random marvel/mcu pairings, winterwitch was probably my number one for them and again, i think about it a lot)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i think it's unlikely i'll finish a lot but especially a degree of separation. i kind of hate it, i'm so sorry 😭😭😭

16. What are your writing strengths?

the thought of analysing my own writing right now sounds painful but two of the most common nice things people tell me is that: 1) they like how i write dialogue and 2) they like my writing style in general

(but of which i highly appreciate!)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i don't do it enough?

nah. true but seriously, there's a ton, however, i do tend to waffle on and write something in several sentences that could have been just one 😭

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't think i've ever done it? if i have it'll be dialogue or whatever that's already in the show/move/etc

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Fast and the Furious 🥰

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

still on ao3: it has to be Why don't we go to Venus? but also Knock First which is a Beth/Rio/Original Male Character threesome fic that was SO MUCH fun

no longer posted: a fic for The Fast and the Furious. it was a Vince/OC story. it was so much fun to write and it was one of my most popular back when i was posting on ff.net and i miss this story all the time (even though it's probably awful 😂) and always think about re-writing and posting it again on ao3

Tagging: @conscience-killer @constant-sinner @astarkey @xstrawmari @blainesebastian if ya like! (sorry if you've been tagged before!)

[daryldicksuckon69]

Masterlist

My AO3

Requests are Open!

RULES FOR REQUESTS

I only write Female x Reader content, as that is what I am and what I feel I am able to write.

I'll only be writing fics for Norman Reedus characters (not including the actor, the fictional characters exclusively), I might expand in the future but my preference is Reedus characters.

You must be 18+ years of age to request NSFW content. Please do not read the content of this blog unless you are of age, thank you.

I don't write with themes/subjects of; Incest (of any kind), Rape/Non-Con, Abusive Relationships, Age Gaps/Age Play and Omega Verse.

Now, onto the Masterlist!

Tag Key

Smut (18+) = 👄

Fluff = 💛

Daryl Dixon x Reader (The Walking Dead 2010)

Series

Trials and Tribulations (Lawyer Reader x Pre-Apocalypse Daryl) 👄

OneShots

Good Morning To You Too 👄(18+)         (31/01)

Summary: You and Daryl had always been good friends, but when you overhear the Newberry women talk about him at their welcome barbeque, you begin to wonder whether you may like him more than you’ve let on. 

Unspoken Truths💛(16+)

Summary: Daryl and Reader and reminded that they need to step into reality and admit the growing attraction between the two of them that literally everyone else sees except them.

Ride His Motorcycle 👄 (18+)

Summary: You and Daryl find yourselves in tight quarters for hours on end and nothing came of it, until Daryl grows the balls to address the situation.

Sex on Fire 👄 (18+)

Y'are Beautiful, Really💛(Pre-Apocalypse, Highschool Daryl)

Van x Reader (Floating 1997)

Mini-Series

Have a Nice Summer (ongoing - coming soon) 💛👄

You go on holidays with your family at your new lakehouse. You meet Van, the mysterious boy whom you discover was the original owner of this house, and the original owner of your new room. 

Murphy McManus x Reader (Boondock Saints 1999)

OneShots

Scud x Reader (Blade II, 2002)

Oneshots

Exclusively Tech Bros 👄 (18+)

[masterwords]

for the writers ask:

20 in what year did you publish your first fic?

25 besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

Thank you for the ask! <3

20. in what year did you publish your first fic?

Oh...oh no. On AO3, it was 2019. But I deleted those because they were too shameful. However, fanfic in general...I was posting on LiveJournal in 2000 after Boondock Saints came out. Those were some wild days.

25. besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

I primarily write & read, and drive my kids to and from sports all day every day. I do love gardening, fighting the epic battles against snails and slugs eating my garden and the neighborhood cats using my garden beds as community litterboxes. I also live for spending time at the various ocean beaches nearby, in spite of the amount of sand that comes home with us every time we go.

Fanfic writer asks!

[somedaylazysomeday]

Na Buachaillí - Part Two

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

You run into another Irishman. What are the odds?

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

Word Count: 6,500

Warnings: Modern AU, some awkwardness, mentions of alcohol, blatant flirting, discussions of consent, fingering, protected piv sex, squirting.

Previous | Masterlist

---

“Here’s your hat, here’s your clipboard, and here’s your station,” Emiliano told you, handing you each item in turn, then pointing downward as if to show the exact place he was talking about.

You accepted the red Santa hat, putting it on your head. The cheap fabric immediately made your forehead start to itch, but you accepted the clipboard and stood in the right spot anyway, offering Emiliano a polite smile that turned into a real one when he handed you a pen topped with an enormous red and green bow. 

“I know, I know,” he told you with a wince. “But sometimes people like to walk away with our pens. This makes that a little less likely.”

“Or a lot more noticeable,” you added with a laugh.

Emiliano smiled at you. “Exactly! You’ve got an easy job today: this is the online pre-registration check-in. When people bring their children up for the run, just mark the names off of the list. If the kids’ name isn’t on the list, send the family over to Tasha. She’ll make sure they have a ticket and get them checked in over there. Any questions?”

“Nope!” you said with cheery determination. Emiliano nodded, gave you his cell phone number in case you had questions or problems, and left to get someone else set up. 

Of all the temporary jobs you had taken on over the winter school break, this was the one you had been looking forward to the most. A hundred bucks to help set up, run, and tear down the Holiday 5K on Christmas Eve. 

Setup hadn’t been much more than positioning a few barricades around the 5K course and making the cocoa for the Cocoa Run, the short race aimed for runners under the age of ten. The Holiday 5K itself had already started and the young runners were about to start checking in for their own chance at glory…. or, more accurately, their chance at a white-painted, glitter-covered dollar-store trophy with a plastic polar bear superglued to the top of it.

It was terribly cheesy, but everyone seemed fine with that. Several of the 5K runners had been wearing all white or dressed as elves. Many of the children waiting to run were wearing costumes as well. The crowd was in good spirits, most of them dancing or singing along with the stereotypical holiday music that was being piped in over the area’s loudspeakers.

The first hour or so of signing in Cocoa Runners had gone smoothly. The Holiday 5K’s website had been fairly straightforward, so most of the online registration had gone without a hitch. The few times you had a name that was missing from the list, the runner and their family were in such good spirits that they didn’t mind being sent over to Tasha instead. All in all, things were moving along better than you could have hoped.

“Connor MacManus.”

You turned, eyebrows already arching upward. Most of the competitors for the Cocoa Run had already been checked in since the race was getting ready to start. Besides that, the man who had spoken definitely didn’t have a child with him. 

“Sorry,” you apologized immediately, scanning the heavily crossed-off list clipped to your clipboard. “Connor will have to be here before he can be checked in.”

“I am Connor,” the man told you. 

You narrowed your eyes slightly, letting yourself take the man in. He was wearing a red jacket and matching sweatpants, along with a bushy white beard and a Santa hat that somehow managed to look even cheaper than yours was. Blue eyes sparkled at you from under the painfully fake fur trimming the hat and you turned your attention back to the clipboard.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized again. “I don’t see a Connor on my list. Did you register online? Or are you maybe here for the 5K?”

There was a pause, then the voice came again, filled with amusement. “Are ye waitin’ for the clipboard tae answer ye, lass?”

This was not Murphy, you reminded yourself firmly as your heart picked up speed in your chest. It had been several days since you had slept with the virtual stranger and you had been too busy to give the experience much thought. But the blue eyes and the Irish lilt in this stranger’s voice made you think of him.

Still, you had asked a question and it was your job to get the answer. You met his amused gaze evenly, lifting your chin slightly as you reiterated, “This is the Cocoa Run, aimed at runners under the age of ten. If you didn’t register online for it, you’ll have to go speak with my colleague Tasha, who will get you registered now. If you’re looking for the 5K, it started half an hour ago. You can still participate if you want to; there are still quite a few runners out there.”

“Th’ 5K already started?” he checked. When you nodded, he pulled off the beard. “Fuck that.”

You smiled before you could help it. The man didn’t look much like Murphy, but something about his way of speaking - even beyond the accent - reminded you of your recent acquaintance. “If you already registered, there are no refunds-”

He shrugged. “Don’t need a refund. T’is is all fer charity, yeah?”

“It is,” you agreed, dimly registering the screams of excited children. The Cocoa Run must have started.

“Money well spent,” Connor said. “‘Sides, it means I don’t have tae worry about anyone seein’ me haul ass around th’ track in a Santa suit.”

“If you didn’t want to run, why did you sign up?” you asked curiously.

“Lost a bet,” he admitted with a smile.

Ah, the smile was familiar. When he wore that smile, you could almost believe this man was related to Murphy. You hated to seem like an ignorant American, but you couldn’t help but ask: “Do you have a brother who lives around here?”

Connor’s expression immediately grew… well, not shuttered, necessarily, but certainly secretive. “C’n I ask why ye’re askin’?”

“I met another guy with an Irish accent a few nights ago,” you explained, feeling instantly stupid as you heard it out loud.

Connor’s smirk didn’t help. “T’is may be a shock, but there can be more’n one Irishman out wanderin’ th’world. I might not even know this other guy.”

“Yeah, okay,” you agreed. No matter how thin your initial reasoning had been, Connor’s sarcasm only solidified your suspicions.

“Ye don’t believe me?” he asked, sounding deeply offended in a way that you didn’t believe for a moment. “Ireland’s a small place, but t’isn’t that small.”

You hummed a skeptical agreement. “And the fact that you both have the same sarcastic wit is just a coincidence.”

“Ye know what I t’ink?” Connor asked, leaning a little closer with a conspiratory smile. “I t’ink you’re lookin’ fer someone tae replace this other Irishman. Lucky fer ye, I don’t mind a bit.”

Despite yourself, you laughed at that. You and Murphy had shared a one-night stand, nothing more. Connor’s guess made it sound like you were pining after the other man, searching for something to fill the gap of a relationship. That wasn’t your style, not even when your marriage with Paul had ended. Well, theoretically ended. The legal stuff was still going on and would be for a while, but you had never moped about the fact that things were over.

Connor shook his head at you, the puff at the point of his Santa hat flopping ridiculously at the motion. “Can’t help but feel ye ain’t takin’ me seriously, lass.”

“Connor!” someone called. “Shit, is it already over? Did I miss it?” 

A figure rushed up to the pair of you. Recognizing Rocco took only a moment - his hair and beard were still wild and it even looked like he was wearing the same outfit. The only difference was that his sunglasses were pushed up into his hair, holding some of the curls back like an awkward-looking headband. It was a concession to the overcast skies, you guessed.

“Hey, Rocco,” you greeted, tossing a victorious look in Connor’s direction. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, promised Murph I’d get some pictures’a this asshole running around dressed as Santa,” Rocco explained, gesturing to Connor. “What happened? He didn’t win, did he?”

“Won th’ whole t’ing,” Connor told him proudly.

“He didn’t run,” you said at the same time.

Rocco laughed. “Shit, after all’a that, you didn’t even run? Fuckin’ hell.”

A passing parent shot Rocco a dirty look as you muttered an apology for the language on his behalf. That was the only reason you didn’t see Rocco holding up his scratched phone to get a picture of you and Connor. When you glanced back at him, you were greeted by the sight of him snapping a picture. 

“I would have moved out of the shot,” you mumbled. 

“Nah, you’re proof that none’a this was staged,” Rocco told you cheerfully. “Not workin’ at the diner today, then?”

“No,” you denied, but frowned. “I don’t think I am? Hang on…”

You surreptitiously pulled your phone from your pocket, balancing it on the clipboard like you were checking the date or time. Your schedule showed you the necessary information immediately and you tucked the phone away less than a minute after getting it out. 

“No, I’m not at the diner tonight.”

Rocco and Connor were both watching you with lifted brows. You offered them a self-conscious shrug. “I’m working about four temp jobs right now. It’s a little hard to keep track of where I’m working and when.”

Connor’s look of surprise had turned to a deep frown. “But why are ye-?”

“Whew!” you interrupted, bouncing on your toes. “I can’t wait for this to end so I can go warm up. That wind goes straight through you!”

“Wait there,” Connor instructed, hurrying away. 

You and Rocco watched him go before you turned to the other man. “Uh… If my supervisor tells me I need to go somewhere, I’ll have to just leave.”

“MacManuses,” Rocco sighed, accompanying the brief explanation with a roll of his eyes.

“So Connor is Murphy’s brother?” you asked, sensing the chance to get an actual answer. “The one he works with?”

“Yeah, that’s them. They work together, live together, drink together, fight together…” Rocco trailed, shrugging. “They’re twins. Whaddaya expect, ya know?”

You gave an impartial hum at that. If they were so close, why was Connor being so weird about confirming that he even knew Murphy? 

Before you could put much thought into the inner machinations of a stranger - a pair of strangers, really - Connor returned. He was holding two cups of cocoa. 

“Thanks,” Rocco said gratefully, grabbing one of them and taking a drink.

“That was fer her, ye dick,” Connor berated, giving you an apologetic look. “Don’t suppose ye’d be okay wit’ sharin’? I already added somethin’ extra to mine.”

He held up a small silver flask. You smiled, but shook your head. “I’m good, thanks.”

Rocco hit Connor in the shoulder. “C’mon man, ‘course she wouldn’t take any’a that! There could be anything in that shady fuckin’ flask of yours.”

“It’s a flask,” Connor explained slowly. “What else’d be in it, lighter fluid?”

“Nah, like…” Rocco cast about for an example as Connor signaled impatiently for him to finish. You watched the process with interest and more than a little amusement. “Like roofies or some shit.”

“Th’fuck?” Connor demanded immediately. The next moment, he was facing you, eyes pleading. “I wouldn’t do that, lass. T’isn’t anyt’ing like that. Here…”

He took a large swig of cocoa, gulping it despite the way you could see steam rising from the liquid’s surface. You winced in sympathy, but he seemed unbothered. 

“Or I c’n jus’ get ye a fresh one since this idiot drank yer’s,” Connor concluded, swiping at Rocco, who took a quick step backward to avoid his cocoa being upended over him. 

You laughed despite the chaos of the little scene. “It’s okay, Connor. Thank you, but I probably shouldn’t. This is a temp job, but I’m still technically at work.”

“If ye’re sure…” Connor trailed dubiously. 

“I am, but I appreciate the offer,” you told him. It seemed like a good parting statement, so you were surprised when Connor and Rocco continued to stick around. Rocco made his excuses after he had finished his cocoa, but only because he had to run some errands for his boss. He bade you a cheerful goodbye, which you gladly returned as he walked away.

You watched Rocco leave, curious. “What does Rocco do, exactly?”

“Nothin’ good, that’s fer sure,” Connor said darkly. “How about ye, lass? What do ye do when ye’re not jugglin’ four temp jobs?”

“I teach high school science,” you told him, grinning at the disgusted noise he made. “It isn’t for everyone, but it’s a passion of mine.”

“So… biology and…” Connor squinted, clearly trying to scrape up another kind of science. “...Zoology?”

With effort, you kept a straight face. “Well, the zoology budget is pretty thin in Boston’s high schools, but yes to biology. I also occasionally teach chemistry, physics, anatomy and physiology, and I’m trying to convince the board to let me add a marine biology class.”

Connor puffed out a breath. “Ye’re too smart to be talkin’ tae th’ likes o’ me.”

“Everyone’s smart in a different way,” you countered. “I’m sure you know things I’ve never even thought to wonder about.”

He shook his head with a wry smile. “Pas à moins que ce soit une autre langue.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Connor chuckled and took a gulp of his spiked cocoa. “I’m good wit’ languages. Me an’ Murph both are.”

“What language was that?” you pressed, trying to remember the flowing words. “Italian?”

“Nah, but close,” he praised. “It was French.”

“That’s really impressive, Connor!” you told him. “Languages have always been a bit of a struggle for me. Do you speak any others?”

“A few,” Connor said, giving you a sideways sort of glance. “Ye like smart guys, yeah? That how ye met dat husband o’ yers? Is he a teacher, too?”

“Murphy mentioned him, huh?” you asked, trying to disguise your wince with a playful duck of your head.

“Weren’t no big deal, lass,” he brushed off. “Jus’ told me ye were goin’ through a divorce.”

You nodded, offering a weak smile. “Yeah, that’s true. But he wasn’t a teacher. He was a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” Connor repeated, sounding thoughtful. “So’s he representin’ himself, then?”

You snorted. “I wish! Paul has a high opinion of his own abilities, but even he wouldn’t go that far. He’s gotten one of his friends to represent him.”

Connor nodded slowly, but Emiliano walked up. “How did it go?”

“Perfectly fine!” you told him, giving a professional smile and turning the clipboard so he could see it. “Everyone who registered online showed up.”

“Excellent!” Emiliano told you, beaming. “Some of the other volunteers have already started taking down the 5K barriers, so if you want to go help break down the cocoa tent, that would be great! It looks like it’s going to start snowing anytime, so we’re trying to tear down in a hurry.”

“On my way!” you chirped. When you turned back to Connor, he was already starting for the cocoa tent. “What are you doing?”

“Helpin’,” he said simply, then expanded when you tilted your head at him. “Me ma didn’t raise me to sit back an’ watch when there’s work tae be done.”

“We’re getting paid,” you reminded him. “You aren’t.”

“T’is a charitable time o’ year, lass,” he told you with a smile. “‘Sides, I was hopin’ ye might want tae spend a little time together after this.”

“Yeah?” you asked. Your brain twisted what could have been a casual invitation to hang out into something decidedly different. As a result, the single word came out in a tone you could have described as ‘sultry’.

You would have died of embarrassment on the spot if Connor’s eyes hadn’t flicked down your body in a slow study that ended with a salacious grin when he met your eyes again. “Yeah. If ye’re interested, o’ course.”

You smirked, but didn’t reply. If you were reading the signs correctly, you were in for a good time before your overnight shift… though you would need to have a rather awkward conversation first.

Connor rolled with that easily, staying silent until he helped Emiliano move some of the tables. The organizer was clearly struggling, but Connor took on more of the weight without complaint. When the table was safely delivered to the truck so it could be taken back to storage, Emiliano chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Strong guy, huh? Where were you when we were setting everything up this morning?”

Connor just laughed and shook Emiliano’s hand. He preened slightly and flexed when you looked his way. “Weren’t nothin’, lass. ‘Course, I’ve always been stronger than me little brother. I t’ink it’s because he’s a smoker…” Connor shook his head in heavily exaggerated disappointment. “Disgustin’ habit, that.”

“Little brother?” you asked, ignoring the smoking comments. “I’m pretty sure Rocco said you were twins.”

“Oh, we are,” he assured you. “But even so, one’s got tae be older. And we both know it’s me. ‘Both’ bein’ ye an’ I. Murph’s in a bit o’ denial about it all.”

You hummed skeptically, but Connor didn’t hear it over Emiliano’s voice. “And that’s it for this year’s Holiday 5K! Thanks, everyone, for helping out. It’s starting to snow, so be careful. Get home safe and have a happy holiday season!”

A quick glance upward confirmed Emiliano’s words: it was indeed snowing. It wasn’t really a shock. Boston had gotten little snow showers almost every day for the past week, but there was something special about snow on Christmas Eve. A smile stretched across your face as you watched the flurries glide their way to the ground.

“Well?” Connor asked, drawing your attention away from the snow. “What do ye say, lass? Want tae keep spendin’ time wit’ me?”

You took a deep breath as you eyed him. You were never the most confident when it came to situations like this. It was considered sexy for things to be hinted at, implied… and you were someone who liked things to be extremely clear. It was possible you were misinterpreting Connor’s invitation and he really was just trying to be friendly to a lonely woman during the holidays. 

But you doubted it. Why would anyone volunteer to spend time with their brother’s one-night stand unless he was interested in a similar arrangement? Of course, why would he be interested in his brother’s leftovers?

You pulled yourself from your spiraling thoughts. If you had misjudged the situation and he was interested, you were just as well off as you would have been otherwise. If you had misjudged it and he wasn’t interested, you would just be the weird lady who propositioned him while you were both wearing matching cheap Santa hats. 

“I’d like that,” you agreed, but signaled for him to wait as he started to smile. “I feel like I should tell you, though: I slept with your brother.”

Despite your nerves, Connor grinned. “Believe it or not, I already knew that. I texted m’brother as soon as I saw ye. It don’t bother neither o’ us. Does it bother ye?”

You almost laughed at that. Did it bother you, the idea of sleeping with the brother of your one and only one-night stand? It probably should have been a resounding yes. You had never been one for casual sex, and there was something even more intimate about the fact that your prospective partners knew each other. Actually, the morality clause in your teaching contract alone should have been enough to push you into thanking Connor and sending him on his way. 

But it had been a hard year. Paul was dragging you through the mud and you would have to deal with much worse before it was over. Sleeping with two people in the span of a week was an anomaly for you, but you weren’t going to turn it down… especially since those two people were sexy Irishmen. 

You smiled at Connor. “Doesn’t bother me a bit.”

“Okay, den,” he agreed, stepping close enough that your heart picked up pace. “Can I kiss ye, lass?”

“Yes.”

Connor’s lips were soft, but you could only enjoy them for a moment before he got impatient. The small sting of his teeth nipping at your lower lip made you gasp, allowing Connor to deepen the kiss. By then, of course, you had been distracted by the sweep of his talented tongue.

You weren’t pulled back to awareness until a group of teenagers passed by, calling loud suggestions about what you should do next. You broke the kiss and rested your forehead against Connor’s shoulder. “Well, that was embarrassing.”

“They c’n mind their own business,” Connor countered. “But they do make a fair point about location. Ye want tae take this somewhere else?”

“Please,” you said with a decisive nod. “My apartment is a few blocks away from here, unless you’d rather go to your place?”

He grinned. “Murph’s stuck at work an’ we’d have th’ place tae ourselves, but it’s a bit further away than I’d like. Do ye mind if we go tae yours?”

“Let’s go,” you suggested, glancing at the sky. The snow hadn’t dramatically picked up, but there were some foreboding clouds rolling in. “We can probably just walk there.”

“Aye, I know how ye like walkin’ to and from yer jobs,” Connor agreed. 

You were about to make a sarcastic comment about Irishmen owning their own cars if they wanted to drive around so badly, but he distracted you when he laced his fingers with yours. Clearly noting the breath you had taken and released without a word, Connor smirked at you. “Somethin’ ye wanted tae say, lass?”

“Not a smoker, huh?” you asked, raising your eyebrows at him until he gave a sheepish smile.

“I had a smoke jus’ before I spoke tae ye,” he admitted. “But if ye kiss like that every time, I’m a very recent quitter.”

“You had a cigarette right before you were going to run a 5K,” you reminded him. “That doesn’t sound like someone who particularly wants to quit. It’s really not my business…”

“Hey, c’n ye blame me?” Connor asked with a shrug. “I knew I was goin’ to speak wit’ a pretty girl while I was wearin’ a Santa hat an’ a big beard.”

“You’re still wearing a Santa hat,” you pointed out, reaching up for the offending fabric.

Connor swatted your hands away. “Not on yer life. Not until I have a mirror an’ a comb tae fix th’ damage.”

The laugh burst out of you, startling Connor, but he joined in a moment later. You decided not to tell Connor he was attractive enough to pull off hat hair. It was true, but he probably didn’t need to be reminded of it. He seemed to have a tendency toward cockiness. 

Since it was earlier in the day than when you had brought Murphy in, there were more people milling around your apartment building and you had to refrain from making out with Connor in the elevator. You did your best to make up for it with enthusiasm when you got into your apartment, though, almost tackling him with the force of your eagerness.

When you finally broke apart, your jacket was unzipped and Connor’s scarf was unwound from its original place around his neck. Connor chuckled lowly. The sound, paired with the heat in his eyes, made you shiver.

At least, until you caught sight of the time. “Shit. I have to work tonight.”

“Do ye need me tae leave?” Connor asked, sounding like the words were dragged from him.

“No, but we-” You shifted your weight uncomfortably. “This will have to be kind of quick. Are you okay with that?”

“Well, I’d prefer to take me time wit’ ye…” Connor said, eyes raking over you, “but I suppose we c’n speed it along.”

“Great,” you said with a relieved smile. “There’s the kitchen, pantry, coat closet, bathroom, bedroom.”

Then you had to pause for a second to let the strong sense of deja vu pass. You had given Murphy the exact same verbal tour. You would feel bad giving Murphy an idea of your apartment’s layout but not doing the same for Connor. Was it weird to worry about the fairness of the situation when having two single encounters with men who just happened to be brothers? Was it weirder to deny that it was weird?

The questions only multiplied when Connor went for your bedroom, letting you inside first before trailing in behind you. The last person you had brought into your room had been Murphy. He and Connor didn’t share much of a resemblance, but there was something about the way he looked, watching you and getting ready to strip off his clothing…

“Are ye okay?” Connor asked, ducking his head a little to catch your eyes. You had been staring blankly at the bed, but you had no idea how long it had been going on. “Or are ye thinkin’ about me brother?”

“Not… about him, exactly…” you hedged.

“Told ye, I’m fine wit’ it,” Connor reminded you with a careless shrug. “Are ye? We c’n call th’ whole thing off if ye want.”

“I don’t want that,” you said distinctly, feeling it ring true in your chest. 

Connor hummed, his fingers toying with the hem of your Holiday 5K shirt. “Then how ‘bout, instead o’ us tryin’ to guess how the other feels, we jus’ focus on makin’ each other feel good?”

You smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

“Good. I’m gonna get ye naked now,” Connor warned before he lifted your shirt up and over your head. You did the same for him a moment later, and managed to unzip and push his pants away before he unfastened your bra. The sight of your bare breasts distracted him badly and you had him completely stripped by the time he got back to work.

“Slow down, lass,” he urged. “Let a man catch up, yeah?”

“We’re in a hurry, remember?” you asked, palming his hardening cock. 

He hissed out a breath and you froze, worried you had hurt him somehow. Instead, you glanced up to find that he had paused in undoing your pants to stare at you. His blue eyes seemed darker. “I hope ye’re ready fer me, sweetheart. If ye keep doin’ that, I won’t be able tae control meself.”

You smiled at him, but it turned to a gasp when Connor yanked your pants and underwear down, then pushed you backward onto the bed as he pulled the rumpled clothing from your feet. When he stood back up, Connor pressed his hips between your thighs, urging you to stay open for him. It wasn’t a difficult choice.

With the space he had created for himself, Connor trailed his fingers across your collarbone, over the swells of your breasts, and down your stomach in a leisurely exploration that left no doubts about his intended destination.

All thoughts of being in a hurry fled from your mind as you watched him work his way lower and lower until his fingertips were parting your folds. The mildly cool air of the room felt glacial against the heat of your core, but it was only another layer of stimulation added to everything you were already experiencing. 

When his finger brushed between your lips, though, you felt that sensation clearly. Your hips pressed forward reflexively, trying to push closer to that teasing touch. Connor hummed, eyes fixed between your legs, and slowly pushed that finger into you. 

Your gasp felt too loud in the room, but you couldn’t help yourself. Connor’s eyes flicked to you as one corner of his mouth pulled up in a tiny smirk, but his gaze dropped again as he began to slowly pump the digit in and out of you. You could feel the way your body started to relax around the intrusion, gripping him by choice instead of in protest.

It was bliss, but it somehow became something even more when he started feathering his thumb over your clit. Your mouth fell open and you couldn’t close it, not if you wanted to take in enough air.

“Connor…” you sighed.

He hummed again, the depth of his voice turning it into half a growl. “I like when ye say me name.”

And since he apparently intended to make you say it again, Connor increased the pace of everything he was doing. It made your toes curl with pleasure, but you caught sight of another clock, the glowing numbers of the digital face burning into your brain and leaving you with a sense of frantic urgency.

“We… have to-” Your reminder cut off with a gasp as Connor pressed his thumb harder against your clit than he had up to that point. You bit back a plea. “Fuck, Connor!”

He pulled his hand free, leaving you staring up at him, bewildered. “Heard ye th’ firs’ time, lass. Short on time. Ye don’t need tae swear at me fer it.”

The humorous glint in Connor’s eyes told you that he was teasing and you gritted your teeth. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. You glowered at him, but he didn’t see it. He was too busy putting on a condom and, by the time he refocused on you, your own attention was on more important things than fighting with him. 

You were still sitting on the edge of the bed. When Connor approached, you began to scoot slowly backward across the surface of the mattress, but he grabbed you around the waist. “An’ where do ye t’ink ye’re goin’?”

“Onto the bed..?” you answered questioningly.

“Ye’re already on th’ bed, ain’t ye? ‘Sides, since we’re in such a hurry…” he teased, interrupting himself as he kissed you. “I will need this, though.”

He pulled one of your pillows down the bed. “Lie back fer me.”

When you did, Connor lifted your hips, settling the pillow beneath them so your torso was flat on the bed while your lower body was elevated for him. You watched him curiously. “What are you doing, Connor?”

“Trust me,” he urged, patting your knee, “an’ tell me if anything starts tae hurt.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice enough to verbally confirm that. It wasn’t that you distrusted Connor, not in the slightest. Hell, you wouldn’t have brought him back here in the first place if you didn’t trust him. You were just worried you wouldn’t measure up to his expectations. Whatever Murphy had told him that convinced him to flirt with you, you didn’t want to be a disappointment.

Connor - blissfully unaware of the grinding of your internal monologue - grasped your leg just above the curve of your calf muscle and placed it over his shoulder. The stretch was intense at first, but eased until you were comfortable enough. That was a surprise, since flexibility wasn’t a particular talent of yours, but something about the pillow under your hips and the fact that Connor was leaning down made it bearable.

“Okay so far?” Connor asked.

You shrugged. “Not bad.”

He nodded reassuringly, placed the tip of himself against your entrance, and drove into you with one strong push. Your breath caught at the unexpected fullness, but you were a little distracted, mentally changing your opinion of this position from ‘not bad’ to ‘amazing’.

When he was pressed as far into you as he could get, Connor pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Are ye alright?”

“I’m fine.” It was the truth, too. Since it hadn’t been such a long span of time since your last sexual encounter, you weren’t struggling with the lengthy adjustment period you’d had with Murphy. You didn’t tell Connor any of that, of course. “We can keep going.”

“Be careful, lass,” Connor warned you. “I won’t be gentle. We’re on a schedule, after all.”

You smiled at that despite yourself. “I think I can handle it.”

“We’ll see,” he said, grinning. With a last nod from you, he withdrew and slammed back into you so quickly that you gasped. He raised an eyebrow, though you could see the way his muscles were beginning to tremble from trying to hold back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, all good,” you insisted.

Connor took you at your word, setting a steady pace built up in cycles of withdrawing slowly and thrusting back in. It felt like an exclamation point at the completion of every circle and you soon picked up the rhythm, lifting your hips in time with his thrusts. 

“Look so good, sweetheart,” Connor told you, voice strained with effort. “Pretty little thing all spread out under me.”

He reached out and ran his fingers over one of your breasts, giving your nipple the slightest tweak. You arched for him, supporting yourself on your shoulder blades to give him better access. “Like that, do ye? I c’n tell; squeezin’ me so tight I c’n hardly move.”

As if to prove that was a lie, Connor drove into you with a firm thrust that left you writhing on the bed. You reached out for him, but all that met your searching fingers was air. You pouted… at least, as much as anyone could pout while gasping for breath. “You’re so far away, Connor.”

“I c’n fix that,” he offered, leaning down a little closer to you. The stretch in your hamstring intensified slightly, but the burn only added to the fire burning in your gut.

Connor planted one hand on the bed beside your head, the other keeping its original position on your hips. It put him close enough for you to wrap your arms around his shoulders, feeling the way the muscles tensed and danced under your hands as he continued to take you apart with his demanding pace. 

Most devastatingly, though, this angle left Connor thrusting directly against something inside you that made you fight not to openly wail. Was it your g-spot? You had heard stories from other women about the depth of their pleasure with a g-spot orgasm, but you’d never managed to find yours. You tried to memorize the exact spot where the overwhelming feeling seemed to stem from, but your mind was busy melting.

After a few thrusts that seemed to stroke that magical place directly, you could feel yourself starting the inevitable spiral. “Connor, I’m-”

Your warning was cut off as your head kicked back. You gave a hoarse gasp as the world exploded. In the past, you had read all of the cliches about ‘white-hot pleasure’ in romance novels and dismissed it as artistic license, but this was so far beyond anything you had ever experienced that it was all you could think of. Your limbs tightened around Connor, trying to hold him in place, but the rippling waves of your core only spurred him to move even faster. 

By the time you could finally see and hear again, Connor was staring down at you, wide-eyed. “Are ye okay?”

“Yes,” you bit out, realizing with something almost like dread that another orgasm was already approaching. “And I think it’s going to happen again.”

“Already?” he asked, sounding both surprised and pleased.

“I think so. I’m already close.” 

“Then we’ll go together,” Connor decided. You tried to nod, but the only thing you could focus on was the building of pleasure in your belly. Connor’s hand cracked over the sensitive stretch where your asscheek met the top of your thigh. “Come on, lass.”

“I can’t wait any-” You couldn’t even finish the statement before your body locked down around him. This time, it almost seemed determined to tear you apart, your muscles cramping even as they locked into the agonizing tension of a mind-boggling orgasm. Distantly, you heard Connor curse and begin to buck into your depths, but you were only peripherally aware of your body. With the single remaining scrap of rational thought left in your head, you wondered if you were going to pass out from the sheer overload of sensation. 

And then it was over. You and Connor were collapsed against your bedspread, both of you lying at an odd angle with the pillow still propping your hips upward. 

You couldn’t feel anything below your knees and elbows and dimly wondered if you had some kind of nerve damage. The mere thought of trying to investigate that left you feeling more exhausted than you could remember feeling, so you decided to wait and see if the feeling came back. 

That was all forgotten as you felt a trickle of liquid run from your pulsing core down to your ass.

You gasped, struggling to sit up. “Connor! Did the condom break?”

Connor frowned, pulling out of you with a groan. That last bit of sensation seemed to send an aftershock through both of you and you shuddered together as you stared down at Connor’s cock.

The condom was intact, completely covering him. Connor glanced at you curiously. “Why did ye think it broke?”

“I felt something wet,” you explained, slapping him weakly when he gave you a dirty smile. “Not that. Something thinner. More… liquid. I don’t know. It was weird.”

“Ye did squirt when ye came th’ second time,” Connor told you. 

You frowned. “No, I- I didn’t. Did I? I’ve never done that before.”

“Do ye usually come twice so quickly?” he asked, tucking a hand behind his head and letting his eyes fall shut.

“No, but I think you found my g-spot.”

“Did I, now?” There was a satisfied little grin playing around his mouth. “Well, they say a woman’s more likely tae squirt with a g-spot orgasm.”

You raised an eyebrows, even knowing that he couldn’t see you. “Do you know a lot about women’s g-spot orgasms?”

“I’ve put th’ work in,” Connor said. “An’ what I didn’t know, I researched. If I can’t make someone feel good, why should they keep comin’ back?”

With an unconvinced hum, you let yourself collapse back on the bed, though you moved the pillow out of the way first. After you shared the silence for a few long minutes, you heard Connor shift slightly. “Do ye really have tae go tae work tonight?”

“Yeah,” you said. Even to yourself, you didn’t sound excited about it. “Speaking of, I should probably go shower.”

“Wake me up when ye’re done, will ye?” Connor requested, closing his eyes again. “Don’t think I c’n move jus’ yet.”

You laughed despite yourself and dragged your way to the bathroom.

---

Author's Note - I would like to say this is the end, but I've wanted to write for the Boondock Saints for a long time. I'll probably end up writing more for this little story, but I'm not sure when.

In the meantime, I would love to know what you thought! Thanks for reading, have a great day!

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

[fandomsaremykryponite]

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

Hi @livingdeadblondequeen

Thanks for the ask! I really like this one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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