Warnings: Swearing, possible nsfw content Word Count: About 3338 Summary: You, Miss (y/n) (y/l/n), had a crush on Connor Murphy for years, from a distance of course. You had always been too shy to approach him, and the fact around school that he was an aggressive stoner caused you to become even more shy. One day, in history class, your teacher decided to assign a project and assigned everyone a partner—you and Connor were partnered together. Could you two grow close during the project and remain close? Or will Connor go back to ignoring you after the project comes to a close? A/N: I apologize if Connor is a biiiiit OOC… ;-; Obviously takes place in an AU where Connor is alive Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8
You hesitantly took the joint and brought it up to your lips. A thought crossed your mind: This is kinda like indirectly kissing Connor Murphy!! That thought had your breath catching in your throat and your heart skipped a beat. Again, not even 24 hours ago you would not have even dreamed that a situation like this was remotely feasible—yet here you are about to get an indirect kiss from Connor. Because of a fucking joint. Your body started shaking out of both nervousness and embarrassment? Could you actually do this? Take the hit, take the indirect kiss, and not do something stupid like blurting out something along the lines of your feelings?
No, getting high isn’t like getting drunk… right? you thought to yourself. Might as well do it and see. Let’s see if I, (y/n) (y/l/n), can handle an indirect kiss from C-Connor…
The joint touched your lips and you, no holds barred, took in the deepest breath. Connor’s eyes widened at how big a hit you just took. “Wow, calm down, you fucking dork. That’s way to big a hit for a newbie like you!” he exclaimed.
You knew that holding in and/or swallowing a hit was supposed to get you higher than just immediately breathing out, so you did just that. Your body immediately rejected the smoke, causing you to cough. Not that slight cough, oh no, you doubled over, hacking up a lung coughing. You fell back onto Connor’s bed, your head actually fell onto his stomach and your eyes focused on the ceiling. He had taken the joint from your hands as you started your coughing fit. Connor grabbed the water you had brought for yourself and handed it to you. He told you to drink some water and you listened to him, you sat up and gulped down some water, biting back more coughs. When you were done with drinking for the moment, you sat down the glass and laid back down, resting your head on Connor’s stomach. “Hope you don’t mind,” you said, looking up at him.
He shrugged and answered, “I don’t really have a fucking option. My bed would be the best place to chill while you’re high. Now, if you get really fucking annoying, I will shove your fat-ass onto the floor.”
Laughing, you answered, “I won’t be annoying, Con!”
“I don’t know how you are high, dork, you’ve never been high. And your dumbass decides to take a huge hit like you did,” he sighed, “you’re probably gonna get really annoying.”
You only shrugged and stared at the ceiling fan spinning above you. All of the sudden, every moment you made felt slowed and your nerves felt fried. Your mind felt hazily and buzzing. A smile made itself across your lips, a large, shit-eating grin. Connor offered you another high and you shook your head, “Nah… I’m good… you take the rest…” you said, your voice lower in pitch.
Connor laughed a bit at you and said, “Okay. You doing o-fucking-kay, dork?” He then took another hit after saying that.
“Yeah, I think I am. I feel really… relaxed…? And incredibly happy? Like, it makes me happy doing this with you, Connor. I-I mean, can you believe it—Connor Murphy, the really attractive, really aggressive stoner and me, (y/n) (y/l/n), the teacher’s pet getting high together? I never even thought that I would ever have the guts to talk to you; you seemed so distant all the time, and it made me really shy. A-and I’m already hella shy to begin with,” you began rambling.
“You think I’m attractive?” he asked.
You looked up at him and said, “Yeah. Is that even a question, Connor? I’ve always find you really attractive, all high school I’ve wanted to approach you, but I haven’t built up the confidence to do so.”
Connor looked down at you with raised eyebrows. He was surprised that you would find him attractive, that anyone would find him attractive in the slightest. In fact, he couldn’t believe you found him attractive. “No way you find me attractive,” he said, almost in a pouty voice.
You rolled over onto your side, your face and body facing him, and looked at him. “I do, Murphy. Seeing being so lonely around school makes me just wanna hug you and love you. Because you need it!”
Connor rolled his eyes. “You’re so fucking dumb,” he laughed.
“That’s a lie. I’m really smart, Con. I am the teacher’s pet for every teacher I have had. Plus, I just singlehandedly finished our history project. So you take that back.”
“You’re book-smart, not smart in everything else.”
You laughed and closed your eyes, “Be that as it may, now that we know each other, we can help each other get smart in every way. If you wanna, Con. If not, oh well, more for me. I can always go get Jared Kleinman to help me out.”
That made Connor laugh, “You seriously think Jared could help you with anything?”
“Well, yeah? Isn’t a sex fiend or something?”
“So all you want to learn is sexual stuff?” he asked with a smirk.
Shrugging, you answered, “Not really. I wanna learn a ton of stuff! But I’m still just a virgin in everything, really. Don’t I have to be… devirginized or some shit?”
Connor raised his eyebrows and asked, “Well, you’ve smoked weed for the first time now, what else is there?”
“Getting drunk and having sex. BIG MILESTONES that I have yet to experience,” you laughed out.
“You haven’t had sex?” he asked.
You looked directly into his eyes and you shook your head, answering him, “It’s obvious that I haven’t had sex yet? Firstly, who the fuck would have sex with the teacher’s pet? Secondly, I’ve always been too shy to talk to guys, meaning the only people I associate with are cunts—I’m sorry, I mean girls. Does that answer your question?”
Connor hummed and said, “Well, I can easily fucking rectify the whole you being a virgin thing, if you want?”
It only took a second for your frazzled brain to understand what he had just said. You shot up, sitting on the edge of his bed. “WHAAA?!” you exclaimed, “Did you, Connor fucking Murphy, just suggest that we have sex while we’re high? And what’s worse is that we don’t know each other! Con, are you being fucking serious?”
He laughed and answered you, “Yeah, I’m fucking serious. Unless you wanna have sex when we get kind of drunk. Which we are definitely doing at some point.”
Sitting there, you gaped at Connor and his offer. “B-but… a-aren’t you a virgin, t-too?”
“God no, I lost my virginity to a female drug dealer about freshman year. I still occasionally have sex with that dealer, but that’s only when I have no money and need weed,” he answered.
“Wow, I didn’t know that stuff,” you said. But, taking in his offer, you think long and hard. Even though you were high, you didn’t want to just give your virginity to your crush without getting to know him really well. Because you still kind of wanted to try to be more with Connor Murphy than just a fuck, since that was what you wanted since seventh grade. “Maaybe we could get to know each other more? Before we jump to having sex? I want to know the person I lose it too, if you can understand that. It’s really nice of you to offer right now, but I can’t, in good conscious, have sex with you without getting to know you better. After that, I guess we can be friends with benefits, if you want?”
“Oh my god,” Connor laughed, “you really are a fucking dork, (y/n)!”
You pouted and crossed your arms. “What? Is there something bad about wanting to get to know the person I could possibly fuck?”
“I guess if I want your virginity, I have no fucking choice,” Connor said with a shrug. “But don’t expect me to be any different to you at school.”
“Oh, I don’t. But I do want you to introduce me to your friends, Evan Hansen and Jared Kleinman. Just so I have more friends that are guys.”
“They aren’t even my friends,” he lied.
“You can’t lie to me, Connor. I see you three talking at school, I know you’re friends.”
“Whatever. You’re an idiot, you have a class with Evan. You just never noticed because he’s such a quiet moron,” he said.
You blinked, “Really? I do? What class?”
“English. I only know because that doofus always tries getting me to talk to you, saying how you seem like a nice girl who could get me to change my act. That baby-face always tells me how bright your smile is, and how cute you are when you’re animated about something.”
You blinked again, unable to believe what you were being told, “Really? Evan payed that much attention to me, for you?”
Rolling his eyes, Connor answered, “I fucking guess so. I told him I didn’t fucking care. I didn’t want a relationship with some dork who’s known around school as a teacher’s pet—especially one who I know from history class and seems like she knows everything.”
“You really thought that about me, Con? Just because I was so shy?” you laughed.
“I thought you didn’t really talk to guys because you thought you were better than us,” he shrugged.
“Oh my god, NO! I just got too shy when I even thought about talking to guys. I got anxious that I’d say something dumb or come across as being a bitch. And I just wanna be friends with guys, I’m sick of being friends with only girls.”
Connor smiled, “You dumb ass, you don’t come off as a bitch. You’re really interesting, especially when you talk about Ancient Egyptian history.”
You blushed, “Thanks, Con. I’m really passionate about Ancient Egypt. Been interested in it since I was young. Remember that movie with Brendon Fraser and Rachel Weisz? The Mummy and The Mummy Returns? Yeah, well those were my inspiration and sparked my love of the Ancient Egyptians. And it worries me how bad off modern Egyptians are, too.”
An hour passed and you and Connor stared talking about your home life. It was you who brought it up, asking him why him and his family don’t get along anymore, and you opened the can of worms. Connor went on and on about how his parents thought and treated him like lost cause, like he couldn’t be any different—which really pissed him off. Like, who’s parents just give up on their child who has issues like “Oh no, you’re not worth it, you’ll never get better, there is no point in even trying”?
“I’m sorry about that, Con. That’s terrible. I can assume Zoe’s no better, right? She just feeds them this ‘you’ll never get better’ shit, right?”
“EXACTLY! She’s a bitch who can’t be on my side even once!”
You sighed, “That’s gotta be rough. Having your whole family against you. I can’t imagine what that’s like.”
Yet another hour passed and you two were talking about even more things. This time, it was mainly you opening up about just how inexperienced you truly were. “Like, Connor, I have never kissed a guy before. Never made out with anyone. Never had someone tell me I’m beautiful… that I’m worth anything but my mother. All I have is friends who have tried to get me to talk to the guy I’ve crushed on since seventh grade, and even they don’t call me beautiful. I’m just pretty to them. I-I am scared that my chub will scare away anybody that might possibly like me. I-I’m just a chubby nerd who’s a nobody… nobody will ever wanna be with me.”
You didn’t realize how your breath got short and you started to have a bad trip. Suddenly there were voices in your ear, laughing at you.
“You’re so fat, (y/n). They should change your name to Fatty.”
“You’ll die alone. Don’t try and fight it, fat-ass!”
“How could you even think that you had a chance with Connor Murphy? Fatty having a chance, hell fucking no.”
You combed a shaky hand through your hair and you laughed mirthlessly. Everything is gonna be fine, me. Get a grip. I’m starting to give myself a bad trip, you thought to yourself. “L-like, can you see someone being with me, Connor? Be honest,” you said, not knowing how your voice broke.
Connor noticed what was happening to you and he sat up beside you. “Hey, hey, (y/n), don’t be so hard on yourself. Chub is never really a big deal. You just gotta… kinda own it, you know? So what if you have a bit of fucking chub. It adds fucking charm.”
“You’re just saying that. Chub doesn’t add charm! All it does is give bullies a chance to bully me for no reason! I’m gross and again, I’m a teacher’s pet! I don’t know how to live! I’m always so shy and tense about everything,” you started freaking out. “I-I’m gonna die a lonely old virgin! WHO LIVES WITH WAY TOO MANY CATS!! I’m gonna die never knowing the embrace of a man! Knowing the feeling of my crush’s lips against mine! All because I’m too goddamn scared to tell him anything!”
“I’m sure if you fucking talk to him, he wi—”
“No!” you snapped, “No he won’t understand shit, Connor! He’s such a fucking loner, he would’ve barely noticed me if we hadn’t been forced to do something in a class we share! And even then I still get really fucking anxious talking to him, I get worried I will blurt out my feelings and the he will find me weird and just ignore me for the rest of my life! I want him in my life, Connor. I have loved him from afar for SIX fucking years and never once have I talked to him until literally 12 hours ago!”
“Fucking talk to him, (y/n)! Look, I’m not the one who can say shit, I barely talk to anybody about how I feel, why the hell do you think I smoke as much as I do? But, holy fuck, you need to tell the guy how you feel for shit’s sake! And for the record, you’re really letting go for the little teacher’s pet you are.” He pushed himself off of his bed and added, “Now, I’m going to get you some more water. Okay?”
You looked at him and nodded, “O-okay…”
Connor left is room, with your glass in his hands. “Oh my god, I didn’t know how much shit she had pent up. I wish there was a way to help her get her good trip back, but she may be too far gone on the bad track for me to help her back. Fucking dumbass,” he mumbled to himself.
He never thought that at the beginning of the day that he would she the school’s teacher’s pet getting so high that she was no longer relaxed—and in fact was going on a bad trip. He combed a hand through his long hair as he refilled your water. “She’s a fucking idiot. She shouldn’t’ve taken such a big hit. God, she’s probably asleep in my bed right now,” he said to himself.
His parents had gotten home a while ago and since fixed themselves dinner. He opted to stay upstairs with you, because you were so high you really shouldn’t be shown to the public right now. Connor sighed and decided to head back upstairs to his bedroom, where, like he said, you were probably passed out in his bed. You were pretty high and really needed to sleep off some of said high. It was already 7:30-ish and he was pretty sure that your mother would not let you stay at his house for the night because you got so high.
Sure enough you were in his bed, curled up under his covers. You were reveling in his scent, the smell bringing you out of your anxious state and chilling you out. “It smells so nice,” you muttered to yourself. You were surprised that the smell of you crush would chill you out so much, but it sure did.
“If only I could fucking tell Connor how I feel it would be so much fucking easier! I could finally get the kiss I’ve always wanted from him,” you said silently. As you took in a deep breath of Connor’s scent, you relaxed into his bed even more.
You closed your eyes and just imagined what it would be like if you could tell Connor how you felt. ”Connor Murphy, I like you… and have had a crush on you since seventh grade. If it’s not too much to ask, do you think we could try I dunno… going on a date?” You sighed and said aloud, “Yeah, if only it was that easy…”
“If only what was that easy, you dork?” came Connor’s voice as he entered the bedroom. “Is my fucking bed comfy enough for you?” Connor asked as he neared his bed.
You nodded and covered your lower face with his comforter. “It is… it smells like you, and it, for some reason, relaxed me.”
“So, you’re not tweaking out? No more freaking out?”
Shaking your head, you answered, “Nope. Not anymore.”
“Thank fucking God!” he exclaimed in relieve as he sat down on the bed. “You coming down, Dorkarella?”
“I dunno… maybe?”
“Well, can I at least lay in my own bed?”
“Y-yeah! I don’t mind,” you said and made room for him in his bed. You blushed as he slipped into the bed beside you. You wouldn’t mind spending the night here, beside your crush. In fact, that’s really what you wanted to do. Closing your eyes, you sighed out in content.
Connor looked at you and just shrugged. She’s being a fucking dork again, he thought to himself. He watched the ceiling and was calm until he felt you snuggle up to him, then his eyes went wide and he almost choked on his spit when he heard you say his name? In your sleep?! There was no way you had fallen asleep that fast.
What was happening in your sleep that made you say Connor’s name?
Pairings: Negan x Catalina (Colombian, Ex-Drug Dealer & OFC)
Warnings: Language. Dark. Zombies.
Summary: Hope was something hard to scavenge in this broken new world. Catalina is a ex-drug dealer whom love for power and control didn’t cease when the dead took over. Catalina’s followers helped her built El Paraiso to keep the zombies away and rules inside. There was only one rule to follow in Paradise, Cata’s unbreakable rules. What would happen when one of the evilest men in this broken world would show up knocking into Paradise’s gates?
A/N: You guys might know by now that I’m currently in a JDM crisis. He’s so hot, I can’t deal! This is my first time writing Negan and loved it. Hope you guys like it much as I did. Please don’t forget to leave some feedback? XOXOXO. There is going to be some Spanish words which would be translated at the end. Thank you #palettetwin @waywardlullabies 4 always helping me!
Most gifs by @mypapawinchester.& @negangifs
THANKS FOR READING & ENJOY!
Before the zombie apocalypse arrived, things were hard. That’s from someone who grew up In a land where everyone was held captive by the corrupt government or drug dealers. The words of my mother always roamed inside my head, ‘Hay gente mala y hay gente buena, mija. Cual de las dos eres tu?’ Back then Clara’s words were confusing and strange. It wasn’t until mid-school where the journey to discover myself began. Never thought it would be one of the hardest and satisfying paths of my existence. The biggest problem I faced as a teenager was growing up in a country where a woman could only be two things; a prostitute or a poor housewife. By the age of fifteen, I’d witnessed my friends being taken away by drug dealers and came back with fatherless children. Saw mother being an unhappy housewife… Neither of the two options given by destiny were something of my desire. I wanted more.
The rebel inside me didn’t understand at first. But when time came along, I began to lean towards the hardest path of them all. The most unreachable and reckless one. It wasn’t a secret: the enjoyment I felt with power and control. My mother and friends knew it very well. If someone could decide which game everyone was playing, it would be me. If anyone was going to be the leader of group projects, it was me. People respected and were afraid. Just a few had the balls enough to not do as I told so. There was no respect from those who crossed that line; either you were with me or against me, there was no in between. It was unusual for a woman to have power in Colombia, let alone be one of the greatest drug dealers of the twenty-first century. I’d got things done and got paid big money for it. Or at least that’s how it was before everything went to shit.
Okay, so my character is a hardcore gambler and found herself at a table with a famous gambler AND a famous dealer- this is Western so not many female gamblers, so the dealer and I were talking pleasantly. The other gambler, however, was losing and getting annoyed at how casual we were.
Gambler: “Ladies, can we cut the chit-chat and focus on the cards?”
Dealer: “Excuse you. Poker is a social game. Discussion and banter is often engaged in? and just because you don’t want to involve yourself in that portion of the game, doesn’t mean we don’t.”
Me: I lean back in my chair and side eye the guy and in an exasperated tone: “Really?”
Dealer: “I like her answer better.”
based off of this. ( 4th one ) open to: anyone but i’d love the idea of a female drug dealer, thank you.
“ what the hell am i doing over here ??” grunting, and nervously fidgeting with his hands, leo took a deep breath in trying to meditate his uneasy nerves. to no avail, he was still a shaky, wired out mess. one of leo’s only friends desperately needed weed, for some apparent reason that he didn’t question, but was unable to use his car to drive to the drug dealer. – and leo, being the wonderfully gracious person he is said he would do it himself. never smoking weed a day in his life, he was most definitely the wrong person for this. first of all, leo has trouble figuring out a coherent sentence let alone talking to a drug dealer with more knowledge of marijuana than he has in his entire being. forcing himself to get out of the car, leo walked straight towards the house, and knocked three times, just like his friend told him to, and waited a little anxiously at that.
Hello my beautiful followers!
Haven’t posted a lot of personal things on here an I was thinking of maybe turning my page into more of a blog. Now I’m not sure how many of you read what I write or if anyone’s really interested in reading about my personal life. I guess I would just be telling you about my day, more or less. Things I learned, experiences I had, triumphs and disasters of my everyday life. Im a low end drug dealer. I’m no kingpin. Most of my customers never by more then a 20 sac. That’s where all the craziness happens. At the bottom of drug slinging food chain. The junkies. the dope game sees some really crazy shit. I guess what I’m getting at is as my followers are you interested to know what it’s like to live the life of a female “drug dealer” addicted to meth an heroin? I mean, things get pretty interesting..
Melody was twelve when she realized how she felt towards a young female Death Dealer. She knew the Death Dealer was over twice her age when she was turned, and even older than that as a vampire, but she knew she felt something more than friendship for her. It terrified her. She knew that there were some vampires who liked people of the same sex, but she hadn’t really thought anything about it until she was in the position she was now. She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t tell her parents, not yet. What if they reacted poorly, especially her mom, who was born in the 1300s. She panicked and knew the only person she could logically go to was her older sister.
She hurried to her door and knocked on it. “Eve?” She tentatively called “Eve, can I come in? I need to talk to you.”
Stiles is probing at his bottom lip with the tips of his fingers and loosens the tie around his neck with his other hand, expression kinda thoughful, even though there’s a bruise blooming freshly over his cheekbone. Derek thinks it must hurt. He’s been hit once and the pain was bright and unexpected, an experience he doesn’t want to repeat.
“Maybe you should have it checked out,” Derek suggests, carefully hanging his jacket over a chair in Stiles’ apartment.
“I’m fine,” Stiles says, waves a hand dismissively. “She just got in a lucky punch.”
“She got some lucky punches in,” Derek corrects. Stiles shoots him a look and Derek sees the loop of his loose tie hanging around his neck; the top buttons of Stiles’ white, and bloodied, button down undone, revealing the hollow of his throat. Derek casts his eyes away. “Isn’t it weird?”
“What?” Stiles asks, having migrated into the bathroom. Derek sits at the foot of his bed, watches how Stiles takes position in front of the bathroom mirror to inspect the damage.
Derek fiddles with the seam of his shirt. “Hitting women.”
Stiles stills for a moment and looks over at him. “It was at first,” he says. “But these women know at least a hundred different ways to take out a grown man, effortlessly, and it’s not like I can allow them to go right past me just because I have reservations about hitting women. It’s my job to protect you, Derek. If I have to punch a homicidal, female arms dealer for it, I think I can make that up with my conscience.”
“I don’t want you having to punch anyone for me,” Derek says quietly, looking down at his hands. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”
There’s a beat of silence, it stretches on for a little too long, until Stiles repeats, “It’s my job to protect you.”
It’s always that, always this stupid job, and Derek more often than not feels like a kindergartener being nannied. He hates it, hates it, when Stiles pulls this card, and unfortunately, he’s taken to do it almost every time they argue about Stiles–or Derek–getting hurt during field work. Sometimes Derek thinks it’s a mantra, like Stiles needs to say it to remind himself, maybe to believe it, but who is he kidding? Stiles has never admitted to doing any of this because he’s grown fond of Derek; because he likes being around him and doesn’t want anything to happen to him. It’s always the job, Derek.
“Say it one more time, I think i forgot why you do it,” Derek says surly, feeling stupid.
Stiles sighs, walks over and gingerly sits down next to him. His lip is split and puffy, and the bruise on his cheek is turning a dark purple colour, red tinging the edges. “Look, I know you don’t like any of this. But this is important. You are important.”
Derek wishes the words were meant differently than they are; wishes Stiles would mean him, not the intersect.
“This isn’t the first time it happened,” Stiles continues, and Derek rolls his eyes. “It won’t be the last time. This is part of what I do. Occupational hazzard.”
“Your occupational hazzard can get you killed, Stiles.”
God, he doesn’t even deny it. Derek stares at him, and the look on Stiles’ face is somber. He jokes about it, normally, how he’s secretly not just a super spy but also a superhero who’s invincible. Bad weeds grow tall, Stiles likes to say. Derek wants to shake him, wants to make him see, realize–
Derek gets up and goes looking for the first aid kit he knows is somewhere in this apartment because he made Stiles take it. He comes back with it, sits down on the bed again.
“Just–let me,” he says as he takes out some gauze and antiseptic.
Stiles lets him. He’s pliant under Derek’s guiding hands, lets him turn his head when Derek puts gentle fingers to his chin, where another bruise is spreading. Derek dabs at the wound on his cheek, on his lip, and Stiles watches him with bright eyes.
“Will you–” Derek takes a breath. “Try not to get into so many physical fights any more, please. For me–I mean, over me.”