Would You Be So Kind (Con x Reader)
Requested: Artsy!Con drawing his muse in the library bc you’re just so dayum beautiful to him
Warnings: Cursing, bad writing, Connor is so OOC im so sorry u gh
“Jesus, how are you okay right now? We just…we just ran a fucking mile…” you panted, leaning against the gym wall. Connor raised an eyebrow, glancing behind him to confirm that you were, in fact, speaking to him.
“Well, I mean,” he shrugged, trying to scrape up an answer. He didn’t really know why he wasn’t a hyperventilating mess, truly. He was sweating, but he looked like a desert compared to how the rest of you were soaking. “I liked to run when I was younger, I guess. People always told me I should put these long things to use,” Connor looked down at his legs, and you could have sworn you saw him smile just a little. If it were anyone else, he probably wouldn’t have given the time of day. You were different, though. He’d catch you staring when he would draw, and you worked on partner work with him when everyone else was paired off, and you greeted him when he passed you in the hall. You made him feel like his presence was special, and his life felt less shitty when you were in it
“Oh, thank God,” Connor sighed with relief as the whistle shrieked to signal the end of class. He turned on his heel with a gentle wave, ponytail bouncing as he walked toward the boy’s locker room. Lord, he was pretty.
Even when he was drenched in sweat, you found him intriguing. He’d be walking laps in the gym, or whatever it took to look like he was participating in class, and it never failed to make you smile. He’d have doodles of cubes on his arm or paint-stained hands most days, and it acted as something you’d laugh about as you did sit-ups or stretched.
People talked about Connor Murphy sketching by himself under the bleachers as he smoked, or behind the school at ungodly hours. While you’d never seen him in the act, the rumors made your heart flutter. The passion he had for his art always had you in awe, and you’d always wished for the day that he showed such passion for you.
“Fuck,” Connor mumbled, stopping abruptly and spinning on his heel. He scanned the gym for you and half-jogged back, glad to see that you hadn’t moved. “Hey, uh, are you doing anything after school?” He was looking at his feet, gently kicking the gym floor with his worn out Nikes. “I’m, uh, trying not to completely flunk out of senior year, I guess, and I have a trig test tomorrow,” Connor lowered his voice, even though there wasn’t anyone around to hear his request. “If not, it’s whatever, you’re just one of the only people I know who isn’t a complete imbecile or asshole or-”
“I’m free after school. Meet me in the library?” You chuckle in disbelief. Connor Murphy was asking for help. Connor Murphy was asking you for help. He nodded slowly.
“Library. After school. Can do.” He repeated, backing off toward the locker room again. “Thanks.” he gave a thumbs up before scurrying off again.
Things were looking up, it seemed.
The library usually had a calming effect on you. The air conditioning, smell of books, and utter silence made for a usually serene environment. However, you could feel your heart practically jumping out of your chest as you waited for your (hella cute) acquaintance to arrive.
Fumbling with various papers, you looked up as the boy came through the door. He looked exhausted, and maybe a little stoned, but you could never really tell with Connor Murphy. He plopped across from you at your little table, barely looking up to acknowledge you as he began digging through loose papers in his bag.
“Right,” Connor exhaled, tossing a black notebook onto the table with a nod. “Hey there,” he waved his hand a bit, meeting your eyes.
“Hey there,” you shot finger guns, trying to move on to math to hide your awkward tendencies. “So, trig,” you pulled out a sheet of paper and sketched a circle. “This is the unit circle, and it basically shows different- Con, are you listening?” He looked up from his notebook, which he was now writing in.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Keep going,” he nodded.
“So you can split it into four quarters, and this here can stand for values in degrees, decimals, fractions and- Connor?” you stopped again, raising an eyebrow. You could tell he was sketching furiously, despite his protests.
“I’m listening, chill,” he insisted. It was obvious that trigonometry was the last thing on his mind as he made bold strokes across his lined paper. Rolling your eyes, you reached out to grab it.
“What could you possibly be drawing that can’t wait for later?”
He leans back, holding it to his chest. “It isn’t finished yet, he mumbled with a frown. "Just keep talking. I’ll, uh, try harder to pay attention,” Connor said with a solemn tone. Maybe it was his weary mood, or weed, or the environment, but you’d never seen him quite like this. He was calm, almost raw as he sat across from you. His body was now still as he listened, void of the usual leg shaking or idle tapping on the table. The only movement you’d see was when he would nod or shake his head, hair bouncing. It made you giggle, which made him smile.
- - - - – - –
“So, I can just plug in these formulas and I’ll be fine?” Connor asked in disbelief.
“Yup. Foolproof. Almost.” You shrug, but Connor was already back to drawing whatever it was. Were you boring him that much?
“Good to know.” He glanced up quickly before going back to his sketch. “Er, thanks again. math doesn’t suck ass all that much when it makes an ounce of sense.” he sighed, now inspecting his work.
“How does it look?” You smile. He was taken aback, like he didn’t expect you to ask.
“Beautiful. Stunning even.” Connor slid his notebook across the table. You took it in your hands, fingers brushing over the cheap lined paper. It was you, thoroughly explaining something Connor had probably already managed to forget.
“Wow..” you felt your face heat up as a grin spread across your face. “Connor, you’ve got serious talent,” you gape in awe, too stunned to be flattered. “Like, I knew you were good, but…wow,” you melted a little.
“Well, I had a gorgeous subject. It helps when what you’re drawing is nice to look at,” he chuckled with a shrug. “and you’re not so bad,” he admitted.
“Do you wanna do something soon?” you twiddled with your thumbs under the table as he took back his sketch.
“That doesn’t sound horrible. I’ll see you around, [name],” he stood, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder with a grin.
He was head over heels for you, the one kind enough to fall for him. It just hadn’t totally hit him yet.