when i saw connor twist his body like that was it

hidden away || dylan o’brien (smut)

word count: 5226

warnings: mentions of cheating, oral (both receiving), daddy kink, unprotected sex, angst

request: how about an obrien imagine where it starts w yn in her room w her boyfriend and theyre talking and shes obviously bored and then she tells him shes gonna take a nap and shes feeling kinda sick so he leaves and then she watches out the window as he drives away and then dylan comes out of the closet saying “ugh finally that prick was taking forever to get outta here” or something like that and then it gets all smutty and stuffy thankssss

author’s note: this is my attempt at getting out of the funk i was in for a couple weeks! i hope you enjoy, thank you so much lau @thelittlestkitsune for being so supportive and helping past things for a couple days! she’s my sweet muffin and i love her! also part two? let me know what y’all think!

pairing: dylan o’brien / reader


coming soon

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Dead Man Walking [Connor Murphy x Reader]

Title: Dead Man Walking
Pairing: Connor Murphy x Reader
Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen
Requested: Yes! I had two different requests for this one
Summary: You and Connor Murphy aren’t friends, but you do have a business plan worked out. You give him the money, Connor gives you the weed, and you make a day of it. Connor’s a little pent up tonight (and a little black and blue from an incident he won’t tell you about), but you’ve got a proposition.
Warnings: Connor’s potty mouth | physical abuse | Mentions of depression | a really poor way to treat people with depression | a really poor understanding of mental health from both sides | drugs | heavy kissing | First person reader | not proof read | confident Connor Murphy
A/N: sorry this took so long! Hopefully everyone likes it! Fair warning again (stated above) heavy physical abuse and mental abuse–I don’t believe some of the things I have Connor and the reader say below, I just believe realistically it’s how their characters would respond. Thanks so much for 1100 followers! Thanks so much for all the love and support from everyone! Hope you like this♡ More notes at the end

To say Connor Murphy was a friend would be a lie.

From: CM
9:36 pm
U home?

I was glad my parents didn’t ask whose number it was that showed up all over our phone bill, and that they never questioned cryptic whispers I sometimes gave into my phone when he called late, answering despite the fact my parents were just across the table.

He was brief. He was curt. He didn’t talk too much, so there was no worry of my parents overhearing. Not that they’d care.

I stared at my phone screen for longer than probably necessary–I knew Connor, and if I didn’t respond quickly, he’d give up and reschedule for whenever he felt like it. Still, the familiar jolt of anxiety bolted through me all the same.

I was in my room, spread across my bed in one of my uncle’s hand-me-down sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts my mother didn’t like me wearing when I had guests over. She wasn’t here to change that, though.

To: CM
9:41 pm

ya. U have my bio book?

Plot twist: “bio book” did not actually mean bio book, in case you haven’t caught on yet.

From: CM
9:41 pm


To: CM
9:42 pm

Come over

He sent a quick confirmation, letting me know he was walking over, making anxious for a few reasons, the head of which being him walking around in that hoodie in my neighborhood wouldn’t go over too well, and the last thing we needed was the cops barging in. I texted him to use the back door.

I brushed through my hair, frowning at the fact there was no time to do my makeup. It was Saturday, and I hadn’t bothered to put any on today anyway, but it didn’t make me any less uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure Connor had ever seen me without makeup on. I scrubbed the toner on my cheeks a little too harshly.

Connor and I had a deal–a system we’d developed late Sophomore year, when highschool hadn’t lived up to any of the expectations we’d had for it. I didn’t really know Connor–sure, he lived two streets over and we went to the same elementary school, but it didn’t change the fact that I was a fairly popular person, by no means at the top of the food chain, but still involved, and Connor, well.

Connor was the stoner. The first in our class. He didn’t even hang out with the other stoners, he just sat at the edge of the lunch room at the end of the table where the anime club sat by himself, staring. It had been pretty safe to say our lives wouldn’t cross, ever.

If we hadn’t made a deal.

I still don’t know why I did it, and part of me wished I never had, because now we couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop giving him money and he wouldn’t stop coming over with joints and we’d smoke and shit talk and fuck if I didn’t like it.

We didn’t talk at school. We didn’t talk once the joint fizzled out and we both fell asleep, Connor leaving wordlessly at some point around three am, walking anywhere but home.

I knew the feeling.

I warmed up the Nintendo, sitting in the floor–I’d already drug all the blankets from my bed (Connor never sat on the bed, ever. It made him uncomfortable, I think) onto the floor in front of the television, piled it with ample snacks. Connor ate like a bird.

I was already sleepy. I wished I’d told him to just go home, let him take his joint and leave–that was our deal. I’d pay for the weed (his parents had cut him off long ago) and he’d keep half of it, and deliver the other half to me. Sometimes we smoked together, sometimes we didn’t. My parents were gone for the week, and he knew that. Everyone knew that. He wanted to hang.

I didn’t mind, not one bit.

Connor let himself in, surprising me by entering my bedroom unannounced, shutting the door behind him and locking it. From my position stretched across the nest of blankets on the floor, Connor looked like a giant. He paused in the doorway, his face expressionless as he took in the sight of my setup. He would’ve been funny, standing in my pink bedroom, his backdrop a Jonas Brothers poster and a mountain of teddy bears. Would’ve been funny, if he didn’t look like shit. The purple bruising under his eyes and across the bridge of his nose was concerning, but I knew better than to bring it up. His lips were puckered tightly, almost like a sardonic duck face. I held out a package of twizzlers.

“You lock the front door?”

He nodded. “Back door.”

“Hm,” I agreed, letting him slide out a single red twine and pop it between his teeth as he fumbled in the back pocket of his jeans, his lithe fingers twisted as he threw a bag at me.

“Just one?” I said, a little upset. I’d given him more than enough for two.

“Prices hiked,” he said, digging around again and handing me a crumpled wad of twenties, which scattered on the hello kitty blanket we were sitting on. Connor folded himself neatly beside me, careful not to take up too much room or to tower too close.

“Keep it,” I told him, pulling the blunt from the bag. “Use it for next time. Or spend it, I don’t care.”

“No,” he grumbled, voice void of inflection, eyes staring ahead at the tv screen. “Not the deal. Wanna smoke.”

“Hulk smash,” I agreed sagely, earning a glare from him. “No, got it, not in the mood.” I sighed.

“It’s so annoying to pass a blunt back and forth,” I groaned, lighting anyway and taking the first drag. Calm thoughts, calm thoughts were the key to a good trip. Being anxious to start just made you paranoid. Connor’s lithe fingers brushed mine as he stole it from me, placing it between his own lips.

“Your fingers are freezing.” I pushed the blankets toward him, building a small nest around your legs. “And take your jeans off if you wanna get comfy.”

He didn’t, his loss.

I flopped back against the nest, feeling my hair fan out around me, and sighed. I didn’t really wanna smoke tonight–it was already late, I was already tired. Connor made me uncomfortable to the nth degree, I definitely couldn’t fall asleep with him here.

When I glanced back at him, his expression was unreadable thanks to his downcast curls and the cloud of smoke that had begun to twist around him. He held out the blunt to me.

“You’re quiet,” I noticed, taking the blunt and inhaling, watching the patterns the smoke made as it curled in on itself over and over.

He shrugged, his shoulder catching his curls and dragging them back a little to reveal a bit more of his face to me. The pinpoint freckles across his cheeks seemed paler under the outline of the bruise, just across the edge. I bit down on my tongue to keep from asking. His lips were pouted, as if he was upset.

Connor wasn’t usually like this–stoic, sure, but calmer. I wondered for half a moment if he’d gotten mugged on his way here. The blossoming bruise, still obviously new, the apples of his cheeks slightly swollen–I doubted he’d simply run into a wall.

We weren’t friends, so I didn’t ask.

“Don’t have much to say,” he muttered. “Not much to talk about.”

I just hummed, stealing another drag and handing him another twizzler. “Wanna play MarioKart before this stuff kicks in?”

I might’ve imagined the corner of his mouth ticking up from where his lips were wrapped around the licorice, but regardless he muttered, “Sure.”


It took less than fifteen minutes for the weed to hit us full force. Connor had destroyed me at the game, so we’d abandoned it in lieu for muted cartoons neither of us were watching.

We were stretched across the nest of blankets, me facing him where he stared listlessly at the ceiling–at some point he’d forgotten to pass blunt, letting it hang limply between his lips. I nudged him with my knee as a reminder.

“Your fucking lipgloss is all over this thing,” he groaned bitterly, wiping his hand on his knee before lowering it back to the blanket. He’d taken off his shoes at some point, and his socks had Courage the Cowardly Dog on them. I pretended not to notice–even when I thought they were pretty cool.

“It’s chapstick,” I said, rolling up onto my elbow to get a better look at him, the smoke trailing across the plains of his hoodie like fog.

“It’s got glitter on it,” he shot back, still staring at the ceiling. “I don’t want that shit on my mouth. My dad would have a fucking field day.”

I just laughed, and let his eyes roll over to glare at me. There were one or two sparkles at the corner of his mouth, I saw, but nothing that couldn’t be wiped off. I wondered briefly where his parents thought he was.

“No more for you then, I guess,” I giggled, rolling into a sitting position and taking another drag. His eyebrows furrowed comically, his slim body rolling up.

“Nuh-uh, no fair. Without me you’d have no weed.”

“Could say the same for you,” I sighed, leaning my head against the foot of my bed and staring at him. His hair was away from his face now–once calm, I supposed, he’d forgotten all about the blemish on his face. He wasn’t hunched or hiding anymore, the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up to reveal his bare forearms. He smiled, startling me–it wasn’t much, just a quirk of his lip, but it was pretty nonetheless. He looked like the thumbnail for a Charli music video.

“I’d find another way to get the money–you’re just the easiest.”

I gasped, mock offended, earning a smile with teeth from him. He ducked his head to his chest, his hair eclipsing the smile.

“Connor Murphy thinks I’m easy!” I cried in mock horror, slamming my palm dramatically against my forehead. “Oh God, my reputation is ruined.”

“If I so much as mentioned your name at school, your reputation would be ruined,” Connor chuckled darkly. “They’d kick you out of student council until you pled ‘charity case’.”

I smiled, deciding not to call him on out on the self deprecating jokes lest he return to his catatonic state. I was just pleased he’d begun to forget about whatever had made hum enter so sullen.

I snorted. “Yeah, they’d believe that for sure. Instead of, ya know, the obvious.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile fading slowly. “What’s the obvious?” He asked grimly, suddenly angry. I forced a laugh to diffuse the tension.

“You know,” I said awkwardly. “You’re a boy. I’m a girl.”

He stared blankly at me, and despite the fact I knew he fully understood what I was getting at, I also knew he wanted to hear me say it.

Can I make it anymore obvious?” I crooned in a poor monotone, nudging his knee with my own. He licked his lips, coming away with a thin smile.

“What? People would think you’re slumming with the loner?”

I rolled my eyes. “I doubt anyone would call it slumming–girls like bad boys, Connor.”

I watched his slate eyes widen, his whole face expand as he barked a laugh, startling me to press back against the bed as he crumpled with laughter. It was shocking, and I let out another anxious laugh to echo him–I’d never seen Connor with so much expression on his face. He’d smiled so wide I could’ve seen his tonsils, and he was still bent over, his face hovering over my lap as he choked for air between heavy stomp of laughter, which sounded more akin to wheezing than any laugh track I’d ever heard. In the back of my head, it sort of reminded me of that one SpongeBob episode where they describe Squidward’s laugh box as “shriveled and unused”.

God, Connor was such a Squidward. I’d tell him after this.

“Is that what you think I am?” He practically giggled, his wide and manic eyes rushing up to meet mine. “A bad boy?”

I shifted uncomfortably, realizing the question had become about me. He’d been laughing at me. I felt my whole expression fall and shatter in my lap. “I mean–yeah? What, haven’t you read a YA novel? Hoodie, drugs, sarcastic and witty jokes, plus your looks–you’re the recipe for a good bad boy trope. You’re probably mushy on the inside. I bet you write poetry.”

Connor’s thin eyebrows shot into his hairline, his face still amused. “My looks?”

Flushing, I started down at my bare knees, which had turned pink–I suddenly felt too hot. I don’t remember weed usually doing that.

“God, Connor, don’t make me say it,” I grumbled, going to take a drag, surprised when he reached out to catch my wrist to prevent me. He was too close–I could see every freckle against his brusied cheek, the violent purple seeming almost pink around the edges. He was smiling softly, eyebrows raised. “You’re cute,” I admitted softly, relieved to see him laugh it off and let me go, rolling again onto his back. He pulled a teddy bear from the pile and held it front of him, smiling down at it.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he snorted.

“Oh, fuck you, Murphy.”

“Buy me a drink first.“ 

"Ugh!” I groaned, falling face first beside him onto the nest, feeling the plush blankets brush against my cheeks. I had a headache coming on–there was always something about weed that left me prone to sensory overload. “It’s too bright. Turn off the lights.”

“Got it.”

It felt immensely better after Connor hit the switch and engulfed us in darkness, the only light coming from the television and dying the room a soft blue hue, and the flush that had felt like an awful itch across my skin fell away.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Connor hold out the blunt to me. I hadn’t realized he’d taken it. I thanked him and took a long drag.

“You’re quiet,” he said in a gruff voice, more sardonic than thoughtful. I snorted.

“You’re one to talk.”

He chuckled–it twisted my stomach in a decent way to see him in a such a pleasant mood. Sneaking a look at him, I realized it suited him well, that crooked smile he sported, revealing a bloody crack in his lip to match the blossoming bruise across his face.

“You wanna talk about that?” I murmured, pointing to him with a knuckle and then tracing my own cheek. He quirked an eyebrow, as if he didn’t understand. He’d forgotten, I realized. I sat up to face him, blunt still dangling between my lips, and traced the underside of the bruise with my thumb. He pulled away quickly, as if it had hurt.

“No. I don’t. We were talking about you.”

“Were we?” I asked, genuinely trying to remember. The best and worst thing about pot was the pleasant fog it left your brain in.

“Yes,” he groaned forcefully. “We were. You were talking about your parents.”

“I was?” That sounded false. I knew it was a bad idea to have Connor over when I was so tired and suggestible–it made us both open to conversations I didn’t want to have.

It was always scary. It wasn’t like we hadn’t had deep talks before, but that just meant it was that much harder to ignore him at school. Ignore him when he lashed out in class and keep quiet when my friend Josh talked shit behind his back. It was harder.

Because when we listened, it meant we cared.

“Yes,” he sighed again. “Do you need to sleep or something? I’ll finish the blunt.”

“Nope,” I said, smacking his hand away and keeping the blunt. “This one’s mine. You only get secondhand smoke. Sorry.”

He glared at me. “You’re funny.”

“You complained! Complaining means no blunt. You can shotgun filter-feed, a la Spongebob.”

He laughed, his hair swishing lightly around his shoulders. He looked nice.

The weed was definitely making me suggestible.

“Um, yeah, that’d get me super high,” he replied dryly, picking at his nails, glancing at me out of the corner of his eyes.

“Not from over there,” I sighed, leaning against the foot of the bed and blowing smoke in his direction, watching his hair fall over his shoulders, and his eyelids slide down as if he’d suddenly become drowsy. As painful as the bruise looked, it also gave him a sort of dreamy aesthetic that made me feel sort of disgustingly protective.

“That your way of asking me to scoot closer?” He sighed, sliding a bit closer across the nest of blankets so his thigh was flush with mine, making me suck in a sharp breath.

“This is out of character for you, Murphy,” I breathed, trying and failing to sound braver than I felt. My foggy brain was flashing warning lights over and over, why this was an awful idea. Pro: my parents would hate it. Con: this was Connor Murphy. Pro: he’s cute. Con: he’s Connor Murphy.

“Don’t wanna get anymore glitter on my lips,” he grinned like a shark, his smile blinding in the cyan light from the television.

“Think that’s gonna happen regardless,” I muttered nervously, daring to make eye contact with him and finding that he was smirking sharp enough to knock the air out of me. Oh God, it was gonna happen.

“You can use your hand, dumbass.”

I nearly screamed, jumping back and cracking my head against the bed frame, staring at him with wide eyes. “What?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You haven’t shotgunned before?”


I felt myself deflate, leaning forward again, and I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed. Of course Connor Murphy wouldn’t kiss me. Connor Murphy didn’t like me. We were barely friends. I just paid for his weed.

“No, actually,” I grumbled, looking sheepishly up at him. “I haven’t.”

“You’re such a goody two shoes,” he chuckled, taking the blunt from me, and replaced it between my lips a little tighter. “I’ll show you.”

He stole my hand from my knee and rolled it into a fist. “Keep this tight. Take the drag, then blow into this, okay?”

I did as he said, holding the smoke in my lungs and bringing the fist to my mouth, only halfway surprised when he surged forward to press his lips against the opposite side of my fist, the smoke escaping quicker from my mouth than it should’ve. I flushed deeply at his annoyed gaze.

“I got like, none of that.”

“Sorry,” I muttered. “You just surprised me.”

He rolled his eyes, pushing his hair back out of his face frustratedly. He didn’t have a hair tie on his wrist–I should probably offer him mine, but he was still too close, and I could smell him past the scent of the pot. I was warm again.

“Tighter,” he grunted, slapping my fist and reattaching his lips to the other side, his nose brushing my knuckles, his eyelids closed softly like he was kissing me. My stomach flipped, and I quickly blew the smoke through, and his face was so close I could feel his bangs brush my face. 

“Missed again,” he grumbled, softly, eyebrows furrowed in thought. He tapped the pad of my thumb with his index finger. “See this space. It’s always gonna be open here. My mouth isn’t that big, and you pulling away isn’t helping.”

He was right–there was a large gap between my pinky and the pad of my thumb, simply because of the direction my fingers curled. Too much smoke was getting out. Connor’s high was starting to wear off, I could tell he was getting frustrated.

I leaned back against the bed, taking another drag.

“If you’re gonna complain, literally just take a hit from the source and deal with the glitter, and next time buy two blunts–”

He waited until the smoke had started to curl out of my mouth before he surged forward, taking hold of my jaw between his lithe fingers, making me yelp before drawing his own face close.

I thought he was trying to kiss me, so I sealed my lips tight, but his hands worked my jaw open, and I realized quickly as he positioned his mouth over mine, his lips barely brushing my own, that he was simply inhaling sharply, eyes closed.

He leaned away slowly, leaving me still gasping for fresh air that the room was now void of, leaning back onto the palms of his hands and tilting his head back so that the pale column of his throat was silhouetted in front of the tv’s blue light, eyes still closed blissfully as he got his first successful hit in an hour.

“Thanks,” he whispered, his voice gravelly and sending a jolt through my stomach.

“Warn me next time!” I growled, wiping my mouth dramatically despite the fact his eyes were still closed. The blunt had burnt out, fallen amidst the pastel blankets. Connor’s hands were gripping one of my teddy bears tightly in his lap, smiling down at it with a smirk.

“You thought I was gonna kiss you,” he chuckled, playing with a paw.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“You were gonna let me kiss you,” he said, almost surprised, still not looking at me, but at the little bear. “Me. Connor fucking Murphy. The quarterback would have a field day. Aren’t you in the running for study body president or something?”

“I get it, it’s funny. You’re such a ladies man, I’m sure,” I spat, knowing it was gonna strike a nerve. His head snapped up, making my stomach lurch, his slate eyes connecting with mine in a glare.

“You know, it’s not like I don’t hear them try to convince you to have parties here,” he began so slowly that I had to look away. He could see me. He could see too much, his angry eyes bloodshot. “Your parents are never fucking home. Trust me, there are loads of boys who’d love to get their rocks off with you in this Hello Kitty hell hole,” he gestured around to the room, throwing the teddy bear back onto the pile, making me flinch. I heard him suck in a breath. His voice was so soft, I was shaking.

“You lie. You tell them you’re gonna study, or you’re gonna binge watch some stupid fucking rom com all your girlfriends are obsessed with, and then you fucking call me every fucking weekend. What’s the point? Your soccer star buddies couldn’t share some of their pot? Why me?”

“Because,” I screeched, pulling my knees tight and ducking my face into them, my hair falling like a curtain around me to eclipse him from sight.

“Because I don’t wanna owe them anything and I don’t wanna sit around with them and talk about what the theme for homecoming is going to be and whatever boring crap we always talk about till my brain melts and falls out of my ears. Because, maybe, one day my parents are gonna come home early and seeing Josh isn’t as alarming as seeing you because, to them, you’d look like the kind of boy who eats girls like me for lunch and maybe they’d scared instead of thinking I’m just fooling around.

Because, for five fucking minutes, with you, I don’t have to pretend that I’m perfect and I’m fine. I don’t have to deal with anything or anyone. I wanna  forget, Connor,” I gasped, realizing now that I was crying in front of Connor Murphy, who would never let me live this down, and never talk to me again.

I knotted my hands in my hair and pulled, desperate to feel something else than lonely. “I need you to help me forget, Connor. I’m sorry.”

The silence was deafening, embarrassing. I felt juvenile, stupid. I felt stupid for trusting Connor with that information, knowing he’d sell me out for a paperclip.

This relationship we’d had–whatever it was–was over now.

I sat up, covering my face with my hands, surprised to still hear him breathing.

“You can go now,” I said, my voice only slightly more level.

“You just asked me to help you,” he muttered.

I pulled my hands away, surprised to find him close again, his face staring down at where my hands had moved into my lap. At some point he’d shed his hoodie, leaving him in an undershirt it looked like he’d outgrown in middle school. Rail thin, pale, freckles across his shoulders. There were bruises on his biceps, one, two, three, four, lined up like fingerprints. I swallowed.

“You want your parents to lose their shit and care about you?” He asked, not so much a question as a bargain opening. “Me too. You’re just gonna have to get more ostentatious with it.”

“That’s a big word, Mr. Murphy.”

“I have a word of the day calendar,” he replied dryly, looking up at me with pleading eyes. “You wanna forget? Me too. You wanna piss of your parents? Me too.”

My eyebrows lowered, and I couldn’t help but lean closer to him, placing my hand on his shoulder to steady myself. I felt dizzy. All of this had to be the pot talking.

“What are you suggesting?”

He didn’t ask. He didn’t know how. He didn’t have to.

He reached forward, placing his fingertips along the edge of my jaw, his eyes deadly serious, almost concerned. Maybe scared.

He hadn’t done this before.

I shut my eyes, gasping when I felt his nose brush against my cheek. His mouth was soft, closed, pressing chastely against mine for a long moment before pulling away and repeating the action. I could taste the blood on his lip, which was odd, but I let it happen.

“Yeah?” He asked softly, out of breath.

I nodded, reaching forward to push myself to my knees, my fingers knotting into his white shirt.

“Yeah,” I breathed back, letting myself fall against him, pleased and breathless tat he caught me, his hands ghostingly tenderly over my waist as he kissed me deeply, working my mouth open with quick, sloppy kisses. He wasn’t a great kisser, but he definitely made up for it in enthusiasm. I giggled against him, earning a grunt of protest from him, his hands yanking hard at my waist, pulling me flush against his chest.

“What?” He hissed.

“I’m not gonna break,” I promised, reaching my arms around his neck to tangle my hands in his hair, watching his eyelids flutter close, his eyelashes fanning against his cheeks. “Really. Go nuts. Leave a hickey or something, that’d really jazz my dad.”

“Please don’t mention your dad again,” Connor grumbled, leaning forward to press his face against the column of my throat, letting out a groan. “It’s kinda killing the mood.”

“Just suck on my neck, Murphy.”


He did, and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant–he had the decency to occasionally pause to press kisses against my clavicle, the neck of my hoodie eclipsing most of his access. He didn’t try to take it off, and I was mostly grateful (albeit a little disappointed). His hands were tight fists against the small of my back, pressing me as close as I could get, until I pulled him away from my chest and back to my face, kissing him roughly with my hands still knotted in his hair, my thumbs keeping a solid pressure on his jaw until he yelped, pulling back.

His eyes were shut tight, his whole face pinched as he scrambled back from me, sliding me off of his lap. Red faced, I watched the tears slide through the cracks as he scrubbed at them.

The bruise. I’d pressed too hard.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck, sorry–just–fuck, still new, we can keep–fuck, I know, I killed the mood, I’m sorry–”

“Hey,” I crooned softly, crawling across the nest to place my hand on his shoulder, rubbing softly, shushing him. “It’s okay. Calm down. I’m sorry I hit your bruise.”

“It’s fine,” he said, scrubbing frustratedly at his face with too much force, wetness still leaking from his eyes. “I fucked up, Christ, sorry, I can do better–”

“Enough for now, okay?” I said, leaning him back against the nest, settling him against the pillow. “We can try again when you’re calmer, okay? I’m not kissing you. You’re upset.”

“I’m fucking upset because I ruined the fucking mood–”

“No, you didn’t Connor,” I sighed, squeezing his hand where he hung between us, watching him become pink in the face with anger. “It’s really okay. Please tell me about the bruise, if you wanna.”

“I don’t. I’m already a fuck up, I don’t need you thinking I’m an asshole.”

“I know your an asshole,” I chuckled.

“I’m going home–”

“Please don’t!” I gasped, lunging forward to pin him down, holding tight to his hands. “Just–if you wanna talk, I’m here. It’s not healthy to bottle things up.”

“Who says I bottle things up?”

I didn’t want say the obvious–that he didn’t have any friends. I just blinked down at him, staring softly.

Connor Murphy was collateral damage. He was a mess. His hair was frizzed, curling around his face, unkempt and soft, like a child’s. His bloodshot eyes were wild, darting everywhere but my face as if he thought he could make an escape at any moment. His lips were pouted, puffy from kissing and cracked from being too dry, with little specks of silver glitter at the corners, almost like freckles.

He was messy. He was shaking. He wasn’t a good person. He’d never get me into an Ivy League school and standing beside him would never mean I could be Prom Queen, and still….

“I could be your friend, if you wanted me to, Connor,” I said quietly, squeezing his hands, feeling him relax beneath me.

“Friends talk to each other at school.”

I smiled back. “Yeah. They do. I would, if you want. And sit with you at lunch. And we could go to movies, if you like those–”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” he said softly, pulling his hands away and starting to stand.

“Please, don’t leave,” I pleaded softly, looking up at him from where he towered over me. I knew I must’ve looked silly sitting in a nest of pink pillows and pastel blankets and worn teddy bears, staring up at him with bloodshot eyes, holding out my hand for him to take. “Connor, I want to be your friend. We could even hang at your place–not even to do drugs! Yousaid you wanted to make your parents mad. I can do that–”

“No,” he growled, turning to glare at me with blazing eyes. “You can’t. My parents would fucking love you. I can tell you exactly how it would go, too. They’d constantly bug you about it until we’d have to pretend to date just to get them off our fucking backs, and they’d–they’d think you could fix me like that’s how that fucking works–and, fuck, my dad would probably tell you to get the fuck out of dodge before I hurt you and you can’t leave. That’s exactly what would happen.

So, no, sweetheart, we can’t be fucking friends. I’ll buy your pot, I’ll see you next weekend, we’ll smoke up and I can leave a fucking used condom in your kitchen sink if you want me to that badly–but I don’t need you to pity me, okay? Fuck off.”

I rose to my feet, catching the arm of his hoodie so he couldn’t tug it on properly. “Connor, please stay. Don’t leave angry, you’re gonna get yourself in trouble–”

His fist connected with my stomach, sending me back into the wall, and I choking for a moment as the wind was knocked out of me, sending me sliding to the floor.

I was crying–it hadn’t hurt that bad, just the shock of it, Connor still standing over me, screaming something incoherent to my still ringing ears while I sobbed.

“–wanna know how I got the bruise? I fucking hit my mom. She didn’t even do anything in just–she wouldn’t fucking stop talking about what we should do this weekend and ‘you need to get out of the house you need to do something you need sunshine’ like everything is a magic fucking bandaid and her fucking voice–so I went to hit her in the fucking face, my own fucking mom–and my dad just fuckin’,” his voice died off momentarily, and I realized through my shock that he was crying. “My dad just fucking wailed on me. Hit me right between the eyes like four times, blam blam blam blam! Tried to send me to my room. So I left. Don’t think I’m going back for a few days.”

Had it been ten minutes ago, I’d have told him to stay. I would’ve offered the bed. I would’ve sat beside him at lunch and taken him to Prom.

But Connor Murphy was collateral damage, meant only to be seen as a red flag by my parents. He had no place in my life, no place in my future.

I couldn’t fix Connor Murphy. Nobody could.

“Get out,” I whispered, voice breaking, hardly audible. He did.


I washed the sheets. I threw away the joint. I washed my face in the mirror, put a bandage over the rather artistic purple bruising on my neck. I crawled into bed, throwing the offending teddy bear underneath, only to be found a year down the line while I packed for college.

My whole body felt sore, like I’d just gone through a car crash and walked home. It was the shock, I knew.

I pulled out my phone.

To: CM
3:56 am

same time next weekend?

It took less than a minute for him to reply.

From: CM
3:56 am

I love hittin the books with u

A/N: Hey! I wanted to address the fact that, yeah, Connor is definitely a little OOC here (i.e. being more confident and open in the beginning, not very paranoid and not very scared) and I’d like to explain that as (not only being needed for the fic to work) but I imagine his walk over to your place is very a la Dead Girl Walking from Heathers–he’s just gotten in a fight with his parents, he doesn’t think he’s going back home and he doesn’t have much to lose. Sorry for the not so happy ending (which the one of the requests called for :/ sorry guys). Regardless, hoped you liked it? Lemme know? Thanks ♡

Give Me Your Hoodie (Jared Kleinman x Reader)

Give Me Your Hoodie (Jared Kleinman x reader)

Notes: This was requested from this list of prompts—it was for the prompt I forgot about the no spaghetti strap rule, give me your hoodie before a teacher notices.”

This is my first requested fic, and idk how it turned out…the end is kinda rushed, but hopefully the rest is okay. I just love Jared and also, this seemed like a good time to project body insecurity stuff, so. Yeah. You get some chubby!reader x Jared Kleinman.

Warnings: Tiny bit of swearing, reader is lil bit uncomfortable with body.

Words: 2290

The air from the vent overhead smacks your bare shoulders, a harsh reminder of why you’ve been standing in the Murphys’ bathroom for five minutes, doing nothing but staring at yourself in the mirror.

When you laid out your outfit yesterday before coming over for a sleepover with Zoe, it was simple: jeans and a cami and a striped cardigan big enough it nearly swallowed you. It covered you in a way that made you feel comfortable, not to mention it would be perfectly acceptable according to your school’s dress code.

The only problem is, you apparently forgot the cardigan.

There’s a soft tap on the door. “Y/N?” Zoe’s voice comes through the door slightly irritated. “Connor’s bitching about needing in; is everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” You swallow hard and take in your reflection again. The ugly pink straps of your bra stand out for all the world to see, the thread-like straps of your cami doing nothing to hide them. Your eyes drift down to your stomach, to the way the cami hugs it tight and shows everything you usually keep covered with a big t-shirt or sweater. You cross your arms, but even that doesn’t make you feel more covered up; all it does is squish your boobs up so that not only will people notice your stomach, but they’ll notice them, too.

Your face flushes with awful heat for what seems like the hundredth time this morning. You don’t hate your body; over the past couple of years, you’ve actually started to accept it the way it is. But that doesn’t mean you want the rest of the school seeing it. “I’ll be out in just a minute,” you say, your voice coming out tight.

“We’re going to be late,” Connor gripes from the other side of the door, and you silently pray to melt into the floor.

You keep your eyes on the sink as you brush your teeth, avoiding the mirror. Your hair is at a length where it’s constantly falling in your face, and you consider pulling it up but opt to leave it down because you’ll feel even more naked if it’s not touching your neck.

With a deep breath, you emerge from the Murphys’ bathroom. Connor and Zoe are waiting outside, Zoe sitting crisscross on the floor and squinting at a compact mirror she has balanced on her knee as she twists her hair into two braids. Connor is leaning against the wall, face dark and hoodie sloppily draped around his thin shoulders. He mutters something angry you don’t quite catch as he pushes into the bathroom and locks the door behind him.

Zoe peers up at you with a hair elastic in between her teeth. She holds her braid with one hand and pulls the elastic out with the other, one eyebrow lifting. “Are you wearing that?”

“Yeah, I um …” You suck in your bottom lip, heartrate spiking unnecessarily. Relax, it’s just Zoe. Zoe, your only sort-of friend since you moved. Zoe, who is exactly what pretty is supposed to look like. “I have a jacket at school. In my locker.”

“Oh. Okay.” Zoe finishes wrapping the elastic around her braid and then kicks at the bathroom door, the compact hitting the floor with a plastic-sounding crack. “Connor!” she yells. “Hurry!”

“Hurry?” he spits back. “Y/N spent fifteen fucking minutes in here, and you’re telling me—”

“Connor!” she yells again. Your face is burning red, and this time hers matches as she looks up at you. “Sorry. He’s … not a morning person.”

“No, I mean, I took a while, I get it,” you murmur, although your shoulders hunch a little, as if shrinking back will make you disappear. It’s something you haven’t wished for in a long time, but this morning, nothing sounds better than to do just that.


You spend most of the car ride curled against the window, listening to Connor and Zoe bicker about what music to listen to. Thankfully, when you get to school Zoe and Connor split off from you before you arrive at your locker. At least they aren’t with you to see that you don’t have a sweater stored in there. Gums, tampons, and about fifteen sets of earbuds? You have all those. But a hoodie or even a t-shirt for situations like the one you’re currently in? Of course not.

You’re quick to shove your books into your backpack and then hitch it high on your shoulders. The straps are thick enough that, if you position them just right, they mostly hide the fact that you’re in spaghetti straps. It’s far from perfect, but hopefully it will work well enough to get you through until lunch, when maybe you can convince Zoe to drive you to your house to pick up a shirt.

You slip into your first class, Spanish I. Without removing your backpack, you take a seat in your usual spot, to the right and slightly behind Jared Kleinman. Getting this seat at the beginning of the year was an accident, sort of. It was the first empty spot you saw, so you took it. You couldn’t help it that it was within a few feet of the cutest boy in your grade.

Jared is currently thumbing around on his DS, his glasses smudgy and hair a little tousled (it usually takes a couple classes for him to wake up enough to fix it). “Hey, Y/N,” he mumbles without looking up.

“Hey.” You squirm a little—your backpack presses into your back uncomfortably; you know you’re going to have to take it off, but you can’t convince yourself to do it yet. You lean to look over his shoulder. “Mario Kart?”

“Yup.” His mouth stretches in a huge yawn, and he rubs his eye with the sleeve of his hoodie.

Something like alarm bells go off in your brain.

Jared tilts his DS, making his car on the screen avoid another player. “Did you do those flashcards Mrs. B wanted us to do, ‘cause I tried but I couldn’t—”

“Jared,” you hiss. “Gimme your hoodie.”

“Wow, rude,” he says, a slight laugh sneaking into his words. “Normally I’m the one who talks over—”

“Jared, I’m serious.”

He looks up at you, his eyes squinty with sleepiness and maybe a little confusion. “What are you …” His gaze settles on your shoulders, and you swear his cheeks go pink. “Oh.”

That one word is enough to make you burn with embarrassment. “I forgot about the no spaghetti strap rule, give me your hoodie before a teacher notices.”

He quirks an eyebrow at you, the hint of a smirk appearing on his mouth. “You forgot? You’ve made it through twelve years of school but still somehow—”

“I didn’t forget the rule, I just …” You rub the side of your face, where you can feel a blush burning. “I had a sleepover with Zoe, and I forgot my sweater.”

Jared’s smirk grows. “Well, Connor Murphy has, like, an entire closet full of hoodies, so you picked a good place to forget one.”

“Connor hates me.”

“He hates everyone.” Jared sets his DS on the desk and then begins struggling out of his hoodie. The whole process takes several minutes; you’re not sure if it’s from sleepiness or just Jared not exactly being the most coordinated person in the world, but he somehow gets his arms tangled and head stuck in the process of removing the hoodie. His face is pink and his glasses sit sideways on his nose when he holds the hoodie out to you. “It’s kinda sweaty. Sorry.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” you say, draping the hoodie over your lap as you slip your backpack off. As you begin tugging the hoodie on, you’re painfully aware of Jared’s eyes on you; he has his head turned a little to the side, but his gaze keeps darting to the cami. You swallow hard as you pull the hoodie’s hem down as far as it will go and begin laying out your notebook and a pencil. You don’t look at him, but you know he’s still watching you.

Several moments slip by before he says, “You look cute in that.”

Your heart does an incredible flip, and you twist toward him. “What?”

His cheeks are once again pink, like he’s surprised you heard him. Or surprised he said it in the first place. “You, um, you just … you look cute. In that.” He motions at the hoodie, as if he needs to clarify.

You fiddle with the hem of the hoodie’s left sleeve. It smells like Axe and something warm and soft, and it’s making your thoughts swim. “Oh … thanks.”

He grabs his DS and begins fumbling with its buttons, his eyes darting away from yours. “Sure, sure.”

You bite your lip for a minute, trying to figure out what to say, but your teacher appears before you get a chance. Thankfully you spend most of the class in silence, although every time you look at Jared, a fresh blush blooms in your cheeks.

Strangely enough, the same thing happens to him whenever he looks at you.


The sun beats down on you in the parking lot, soaking through Jared’s hoodie and quickly coating you in sticky sweat. You wander toward the bus; Zoe is staying late for band practice, and you don’t want to ask Connor to drive you home. You’re just plugging your earbuds into your phone when you hear your name shouted across the parking lot.

“Y/N! Wait!”

You pause and look over your shoulder. Jared Kleinman jogs toward you, his bright teal Vans smacking the pavement and Pokémon backpack bouncing up and down on his shoulders. By the time he gets to you, a tiny line of sweat clings to his hairline. “Need a driver?” he asks, panting a little.

“It’s okay,” you say, shoving your hands into the front pocket of the hoodie. “I’m just going to take the bus.”

“Nope.” He motions toward the west end of the parking lot, where you assume his car is parked. “I’ll be your chauffer today.”

You laugh a little. “Really.”

“Yep.” He flicks his eyes toward the bus, which is already filling up. “The A/C broke last week, but it’s better than that. Plus, the insanely cool Jared Kleinman will be your driver, and you can’t beat that.”

You roll your eyes. “You mean the insanely dorky.”

He lets out a squeak of disbelief. “I let you borrow my hoodie today!”

“Okay, insanely dorky and cool.”

A grin spreads across his face and makes your stomach explode with butterflies. “That’s more like it.”

The two of you wander across the parking lot to a white minivan that looks like it was made before Jared was born. The leather seats burn beneath your legs, and fabric droops from the ceiling in several places. And, unfortunately, even as Jared starts up the engine and rolls down the windows, the inside of the van is boiling hot, and you toy with the hem of the hoodie.

Jared watches your fingers. “You’re going to roast if you don’t take that off.”

A nervous laugh rattles in your throat. “Yeah, I guess,” you mumble. As quickly as you can, you squirm your way out of it. Heat floods from your chest and spreads to your skin all over, but when Jared begins to guide the van down the road, the wind coming through the windows chases away some of the sweat.

You drape the hoodie over your lap and resist the urge to cross your arms, recalling how ineffective that was in the Murphys’ bathroom this morning. Besides, it’s just Jared. Jared, who has the body of a huggable teddy bear. Jared, who says dorky things and laughs at himself and everyone else constantly.

Jared, who you’ve had a massive crush on ever since your first day.

“Not to invite myself over, but do you wanna maybe study for Spanish for a little while when we get to your house?” Jared asks, breaking into your thoughts. “I still have to make those flashcard-things.”

“Yeah, sure.” You wave the sleeve of his hoodie at him. “And I’ll wash this for you so you can take it home when you leave.”

He shrugs a little, eyes on the road. “You can keep it.”

Another nervous laugh slips out of you. “Jared, it’s your hoodie.”

“And you looked cute in it.”

Inside you can practically hear your brain screaming with excitement, but you scoff. “I definitely didn’t.”

“Did too,” he parrots, sounding so much like a child that you laugh. He steals a glance at your face now, his cheeks flushed and smile a little giddy. “Although, for the record, you look pretty cute in that, too.”

You have to remind yourself again not to cross your arms. “Why, because it’s tight?”

“What? No! No.” His shoulders jerk with another shrug. “You’re just … I don’t know, you’re cute.”

You bite down on a smile; for the first time today, you don’t mind the heat spreading through your cheeks. “You’re a dork,” you mutter.

“Y/L/N, I just complimented you. Cut me some slack.”

You hold the hoodie to your chest. Even after a day of wearing it, you can still smell Jared on it. The scent alone makes your body fill with a lovely fluttery sensation.

“Fine,” you say. “But only if I really get to keep the hoodie.”

Now it’s his turn to bite down on a bashful grin. It’s the grin the made you fall for him when you first started going here, and the grin that makes you fall for him now all over again. “Deal.”

BabyDaddy!Cal Pt. 4

A/N: I had wrote this before I even finished Pt.3 so it’s been ready to post lmao. I’m finally giving you all the much requested smut so I hope y'all are satisfied for now. Imma start on 5 so, the quicker this gets to 100 notes with feedback the quicker it comes. Hope y'all love bugs enjoy💕

I know I could of ended it better but I couldn’t think of a good way, sorry.

OH and I’m just starting a diet today and boiiii…let’s see how long I can last lmaoo.

**WARNING**: Smut (blowjob to be specific)

Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six,seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty{END}

“It’s about damn time you got a new hairstyle.”

“Well, excuse me for embracing my natural curls, Connor.” You snorted as the blonde rolled his eyes at you.“ I can’t believe you’re seriously dying your hair.”

“I can’t believe I let you pick the color.” Connor laughed.“If I walk out of here looking crazy, Y/N, I’m going to kill you.”

“Deadass?” You challenged and he gave you the eye.

“Deadass."he attempted to copy your accent and both you and your hairstylist laughed.

The complications of finding a black hairstylist in a salon that doesn’t overcharge in Australia was complicated. Usually you paid no more than eighty dollars for someone like your cousin, your friend’s aunt, or even someone’s mother to do your hair in the comforts of their home. You had been coming to your stylist, Kim, every since you’ve moved here and she had never let you down. She understood the struggle of African American hair and you didn’t trust anyone else to come near your head.

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Request - Drabbles - Reader sacrificing herself for them


Fandom: Assassin’s Creed 

Words: 331/192/354/178/362

Warnings: Angst (or trying to), Death, Torture, some Gore.

Notes: Tried to keep all under 400 words. Success!

I ran out of ideas for Connor and Jacob. After seeing your lovely messages, I decided to try writing again. I did it. It’s almost 3 AM and I wanna sleep. (Food and water ain’t a problem, sleep is my problem. Why do we need sleep?…)

Also, sniper rifles were created on the Victorian era. Whether the sniper is from a rival gang or hired by Templars is up to you.

In my opinion, Altair’s is the saddest. I loved writing for him so much that I rewrote his scenario I wanted to make it smaller. I really like it.

Hope you enjoy them!

Originally posted by jeevasnefeli

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Leave her alone!!

for anon. I hope you like it!

pairings: Connor x reader

warnings: none

It was like this every day. Every single day.

You would enter school with high hopes that your bullies would leave you alone for once in your life. You honestly didn’t know what you did to deserve this hatred. Okay, so maybe there was that time in lunch when you accidentally spilled your water all over Katherine (sorry if that’s your name) when you tripped over your own feet. But that was a year ago and you had hoped that they forgot about that. Obviously, they didn’t.

“Hey, Y/N.” You inwardly winced as Katherine’s voice reached your ears. Bracing yourself, you turned to face your nightmare.

“Hi, Katherine.” You said, trying to be as nice and polite as you could be. The sugary sweet smile that you had painted on your face made you sick to even think about. You desperately hoped that she wouldn’t be able to see how fake it was.

Katherine cackled as she walked towards you, her ‘friends’ following behind her with a twisted smile on their faces. Your body tensed up, not knowing what she was going to do to you today. Was she going to yell at you, call you a freak? Or was she going to push you around like last week?

“Where are your friends, Y/N?” Katherine smirked and you shrunk into yourself, trying to make yourself as small as possible. She paused and looked around, pretending to search for the friends you both knew you didn’t have, “Oh, that’s right. You don’t have any.”

You felt your eyes burn at her cruel words but you didn’t react. You didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of letting her know that she was hurting your feelings.

“Who would want to be friends with you, anyway?” Katherine said as she poked you hard in the shoulder. “You’re not funny, pretty, or even worth the space you stand in.” The burning sensation grew stronger in your eyes and your looked to the ground. You let out a gasp as you stumbled backwards, Katherine giving you a hard push.

“Hey!” Your head snapped to the side and your eyes widened as you saw a figure running towards you, their messenger bag flouncing. “Leave her the fuck alone!”

“Oh, would you look at that.” Katherine cooed, “A freak helping a loser. Now that’s a love story any Hollywood director would pay for. Well, if you were pretty enough they would.”

“Back off, Katherine.” The figure said, and you blinked as Connor Murphy, the Connor Murphy that you had a little crush on, stood next to you, slightly placing his body in front of yours, as if he was trying to protect you; which he didn’t need to do because you barely spoke to one another.

“What are you gonna do, freak?” Katherine taunted, seeing Connor’s fist clench and enjoying the rise she was getting out of him. However, when Connor flinched his body threateningly, she took a step back and you could see a small flicker of fear flash through her eyes.

“Do you really want to fucking find out?” Connor snarled, taking a step closer and you watched as Katherine continued to back up. “Get the fuck away.”

To your amazement, you watched as Katherine furrowed her brows before turning to the two girls behind her, “Let’s go. We have better things to do than waste our time here.”

You watched in awe as Katherine walked away, but a shiver of fear crept up your spine as Katherine called to you, “The freak can’t protect you forever, Y/N.”

You shook your head, trying to ignore Katherine’s words, and faced Connor. You smiled at him, not noticing his inner turmoil.

“Fuck, I must look like such a freak. You don’t even know me and here I am fucking helping you. Shit, you’re probably gonna go and tell all your friends how Connor the Freak-”

“Hey,” You interrupted, not understanding why he was acting like this, “It’s cool. I know who you are, we have Math together. Besides, I don’t think you’re a freak.”

Connor only blinked at you with a slightly stunned expression on his face. He didn’t know that you knew him. If he was being honest, he didn’t even know who you were- being high in class made it hard to focus, not that he wanted too.

“I’m Y/N.” You held out your hand, which Connor awkwardly shook.

“Connor.” Connor froze, “Shit, you already know who I am.”

You quickly interrupted again before Connor could get even more frustrated with himself, “You want to come sit with me at lunch?”

Connor stared at you with wide eyes before nodding slowly.

You had a feeling that the two of you would be great friends soon. Hey, freaks and losers needed to stick together.

Together For Forever;

4. The Connor Murphy Protection Squad??

summary: what if it was all a dream? What if Evan fell out that tree, hit his head, and dreamt it all up. Connor’s death, the lies, Zoe, what if he woke up and things were happening all over again but he knew the outcome. Evan has a chance to change what broken pieces one letter caused, what if he changes it and nothing better comes out of it.
a/n: There is a mention (by jared) of what Connor was going to do, brief but if that is worresome just look out for that line
Warning: EMOTIONAL-ANGST Zoe; troublesome feelings
w/c: 2.6k sorry it got draining on me
Sincerely Taggin’: @hell-yes-puns-and-ships for beta’ing <3

If you had Asked him a year ago if he thought he would be sitting inside of Zoe’s aged pickup truck, Evan would have probably laughed. What a load of bologna. Right now he was living last year’s Evan’s dream. He was having alone time with the girl he was crushing on. At the very least, he should have been content or a bit clammy with excitement. Instead he felt…cold. Everything about this meeting felt cold. Zoe’s face wasn’t the way he remembered fantasizing about her. There wasn’t a dreamy, far off look to her that had once made him  wonder what was going through her mind.

 It was replaced by a cold, almost cruel frown. She stared off and seemed comfortable sporting this icy face. Perhaps the girl Evan knew was just a mask? It was turning into a trend that the Murphys weren’t exactly all they seemed to be at first, minus Connor. Strangely enough the troubled soul was honest on the outside. There was no doubt or question to what he was feeling. The fact was unsettling to Evan. The interior of the car felt air tight, as if he’d run out of oxygen if he breathed in too much.

 “Why did you do it?” Zoe muttered, her eyes staring out her windshield. “…I mean…why you?”

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Say You Won't Let Go [Connor Murphy x Male!Reader]

Title: Say You Won’t Let Go
Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen
Pairing: Connor Murphy x Male!Reader
Requested: by like three people lmao
Summary: Connor takes you home for thanksgiving–the hitch is that Connor is still sort of closeted. He’s not going to let that kind of them stop him from loving you.
Warnings: Connor’s potty mouth | Mentions of homophobia | Mentions of neglect and abuse | First person reader | not proof read
A/N: last upload before I leave on my trip! Yay! It’s crazy late here. This is a combo of a few request: three people requested a male reader, one person requested Connor sort of “adopting” a male reader who gets neglected and abused at home and taking care of them, and someone else requested Connor and a male reader go home for thanksgiving with lots of angst, and we all know I love angst. Hope this is good! Love you all and thanks for 800+ followers! (I’m going immediately to bed after this hoo)



“Connor,” I called again. He brushed his fingers across my knuckles again, dangling between us on the leather carseat. He was staring ahead, so it was concerning to see him so absent. While driving.


“The light’s green,” I told him in a weak voice, watching his dark eyebrows furrowed blankly before fumbling, hands grasping for the wheel and slamming on the break. His dark hair was a curtain between us, eclipsing most of his face from my view.

“Sorry,” he mumbled heatedly under his breath, his hands tapping at the wheel anxiously. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

I folded my hands in my lap, careful to stay calm. Connor’s paranoia could be contagious sometimes, and his anxiety was filling the car with fumes I didn’t have the capacity to escape.

“I’m scared too, Connor,” I mumbled softly, watching his white knuckled grip clench and unclench on the steering wheel, licking his lips before glancing surprisingly out of the corner of his eyes at me.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, voice hoarse, chancing to take his hand of the steering wheel to reach for me. His painted nails raked harshly against the fabric of my jeans, up and down my thigh in an attempt to soothe me–and, in a way, it helped because it distracted him from his inner monologue. “I’m not scared. If they,” he paused, taking in a heavy sigh and letting his eyebrows drop low over his eyes. “If they say anything, we’ll get up and go. Get a hotel for the next few days and then go back to school, alright?”

“Going home is making you nervous,” I said neutrally. “This was a mistake.”

Connor’s hand wrapped vice like around my knee, shaking it a little too roughly. “This is not a mistake. I’m not letting you go home to your shitty parents, alright? Besides,” he grumbled. “This is a decent test for my parents, too. If they’re asswipes, we go immediately.”


My stomach twisted nervously as the main streets and shops gave way to country field and subdivisions, little white picket fences with dogs and rosebushes  I hadn’t grown up in a neighborhood quite like this, and yet it amazed me–suburbia, for all its obvious perks, could still contain dark secrets.

Connor, subject A.

He hadn’t been home in awhile–he and I had spent the summer together working on campus, sharing a dorm. I knew he was civil with his folks and all, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t positively green as we pulled into a perfectly cemented driveway, three nice cars already parked in an open garage. Connor shifted the car into park, turning off the engine, but instead of exiting let his eyes close and leaned against the steering wheel for just a moment.

It was hard–I could see how hard it was. How uncomfortable he felt.

I wasn’t sure if I’d made it better or worse.

I wasn’t sure how he’d worded it to his mother on the phone when he’d asked if I could join the party for thanksgiving–I knew he’d told her I wasn’t in the best standing with my parents. I wasn’t sure if he’d asked if he could bring “a friend” over or “someone I’m seeing”.

He hadn’t said boyfriend. They didn’t know. He wasn’t out.

It was maybe four yards to the door–just a few steps, less than sixty seconds, and everything in Connor Murphy’s family dynamic would change.

Watching Connor swallow, forehead pressed into his hands where he was folded in on himself in the driver’s seat, was almost heartbreaking. I didn’t know if I made it worse or better. I didn’t even know how he felt.

I hadn’t been home since I graduated.

I reached out, scratching lovingly against Connor’s back through the fabric of his hoodie, feeling his shoulders relax beneath my hands.

“I guess this is me fucking up again,” he laughed mirthlessly. “Christ, they’re gonna have a field day.”

“You can take me somewhere else,” I offered, my voice thick at the suggestion, praying he wouldn’t really do that, but understanding if it was what he needed. “You don’t have to come out–”

Connor sprung off the steering wheel, spinning, eyes wide, pink lips partially parted, his bony hands twitching I’m his lap.

“You,” he choked, seeming to be at a loss for words. “I didn’t mean–you aren’t the mistake, sweetheart.” He reached forward, lithe fingers cradling across the back of my neck, his thumb tracing my jaw. “You–fuck, I love you.”

Connor’s slate eyes were searching, and I saw all the manic fear in them before they shut so that he could surge across the car, sealing his soft lips to mine.

It was almost comedic when he got like this–desperate, hungry, and nothing lustful about it. Connor was so uniquely physical and so poor with his words, this was the only way he knew to communicate that he loved me.

And I loved it. And I loved him.

There were a few knees to my ribs as he climbed across the median, fumbling to get into my lap, his little lithe body folding perfectly against mine, his hands still knotting into my hair.

“Connor–” I tried to protest with a laugh, surprised when he simply swallowed the words and continued.

“I love you,” he hissed again, wrapping both his arms around my neck, leaning back to glare determined at my collar bone. “I love you, please–”

“I love you,” I assured, pulling him back to press his face into his neck. “I love you, sweetheart, but you have to calm down. You aren’t gonna be able to articulate to your parents if you’re this panicked. I can’t do it for you.”

“Fuck,” he cried, voice thick, pressing my face closer to the juncture of his neck. His hair was down today, kissing my temple. “I lied. I’m fucking terrified.”

“It’s okay,” I promised, scratching at his lower back soothingly. “I’m right here.”


We didn’t bother to bring in our bags, not when there might be a chance that we might have to haul them back out in a quick fit, Connor swearing during it all.

He couldn’t stop fidgeting–it had been awhile since I’d seen him like this. Yes, the Connor I had met nearly a year ago had been stoic, pensive, and reclusive–but he’d also had an air of newly acquired calm and confidence that had been difficult to resist. He had smiles that seemed like they costed him, but only after he gave them, and he, more often than not, gave them without thinking twice.

Recovering, he told me, he was recovering. It was more than enough.

He kept scratching behind is ear, frizzing the fawn tone hair there so that the curls ticked upward just a little higher than the rest, his mouth twitching as he clenched and unclenched his jaw in a way that would make for robotic kissing later. The way his hands shook, I was surprised he didn’t stick them in his pockets–he wiped them on his jeans enthusiastically, stepping into the foyer as his mother answered the door.

The Murphy’s looked as perfect as the photos on Facebook had portrayed–I knew it was for my benefit. Cynthia Murphy was loud, and it was done in a way that her own face cringed with the overdone politeness of it all. She grinned at me so that the apples of her cheeks looked high crested like Connor’s when he smiled without thinking, his eyes crinkling at the corners, making his hollowed cheeks dimple. Her eyes were vaguely panicked, and I looked away, giving her the time to process what was clearly a misread signal from Connor.

Larry Murphy shook my hand, much too roughly, making it obvious where Connor had acquired it, and smiled like I was the campaign aid to his greasy politician. It made me nervous, unsettled, and I watched Larry Murphy stuff his large hands into the pockets of his slacks.

Zoe Murphy was lazing artistically against the leather couch in the living room, only slightly visible from the foyer. At her parent’s call, she didn’t move, but offered us a wave without looking up from the television. So Connor hadn’t been lying about their strained relationship.

“It’s so good to meet you! Connor got us all excited over the phone,” Cynthia crooned, patting her husband on the shoulder, her eyes still panicked behind her painfully wide smile. Her lips cracked in the same way Connor’s did.  “Worried for nothing, I see. It’s always good to meet Connor’s friends.”

I smiled, my face pained.

He could lie. Right now. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, and I knew he was thinking about it. Smile, pretend, I really got you guys this time! Slap me on the back, call me bro, smile and nod when his father asked about the cute girls on campus. He could cut me down right here, and he knew it.

Connor was smiling politely, his hands still twitching at his sides. He was painfully close to me, too close for them not to notice, our shoulders brushing. They were taking it in with darting eyes and slim pupils, eyes cutting between us, begging for an explanation.

“What do you mean?” Connor asked in a strained voice, obviously attempting to be civil. The smile on his face, while trying, was a fraud.

Cynthia had begun to wring her hands, licking her lips as if attempting to come up with something in a way that wouldn’t offend me. She laughed too loudly.

“You just, you said over the phone you were bringing home someone you wanted us to meet,” she smiled apologetically in my direction. Behind the two of them, Zoe Murphy had rolled into a sitting position, her auburn eyebrow arched, her lipglossed mouth in a froze oh.

“Yeah,” Connor said slowly, eyes glancing from me back to them in a can you believe this? sort of way, clearly more for their benefit than mine. He wanted them to say it for him, but the wouldn’t. They weren’t the kind of people who were going to wish for this or be thrilled Connor was finally himself.

He was trying to come out, and they were pressed so tightly against the closet door, Connor was going to need a fucking cannon to get himself out.

Larry made a noise in the back of his throat, impatient, disguising it with an exasperated laugh. I watched Connor tense, his shoulders locking and his mouth falling open. Scared.

“She just means,” Larry laughed awkwardly, making an aggressive eye contact with me in an attempt to demean Connor, “We thought Connor meant a girl. We thought he might be getting serious with someone.”


To his credit, Connor didn’t explode. He didn’t scream. He did it slowly, softly, without words, the same way the Connor I knew everything about and the Murphy’s had never met did everything.

He just smiled–not forced, but serene and genuine, and glanced down to where his pale hand, freckled across the knuckles was bumping against mine, and laced out hands together.  I wasn’t looking at the Murphy’s, but I could hear their sharp intake of breath over the rapid pounding of my heart.

Connor was smiling at me, the apples of his cheeks eclipsing his eyes that were watering with the uncertainty of the moment.

And I was so proud.

He chose me.

He chose himself.

“I am,” Connor said, his voice certain from where he smiled at me in awe and adoration. “Serious about someone. This is my boyfriend.”


“It could’ve gone worse.”

Connor, laying facedown on his twin bed could’ve been slightly endearing, slightly adorable, if it hadn’t been for the face he was screaming into his pillow.

“It could’ve gone a lot fucking better!” He screamed, leaning up to scratch at his face with his black chipped nails–a bad habit that had me lunging forward to take his wrists, replacing his hands onto my hips and sitting beside him, letting him fall face first into my chest with a humph.

“They didn’t make us leave,” I reminded softly, combing a hand through his soft hair and kissing his temple. Connor just groaned against my chest.

“My dad passed out,” Connor hissed against my chest. “Fucking went unconscious. Because I’m gay.”

“Again, not the worst reaction.”

“Oh my God, dude, please let me be negative!” Connor grunted, pulling back, stuffing his hands into his hair, causing me to reach up again to remove them.

“Stop that,” I mumbled. “Keep those on me.”

He frowned, but still reached forward tenderly to cup the back of my neck, eyes searching for something in my face. Leaning forward till he blurred, close enough to kiss, he pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth, tilting his forehead to rest against mine with closed eyes.

“I worship you,” he whispered, sending a violent chill down my spine, my own hands reaching up to tangled in the fabric of his hoodie. “I’d do that again and again to be with you.”

“Con,” I whispered, pouting my lips to beg for a kiss, sighing happily when he obliged me, nudging me backwards gingerly against his mattress which was struggling to hold two grown men.

He was tender, loving as he pressed chaste kisses again and again to my lips, before sighing and laying his head against my chest, reaching up to run his thumb absently across my jaw.

“Your sister seemed supportive.”

“What part of ‘Holy shit, no way!’ seemed supportive to you?”

“She was smiling?”


“I’m sorry,” I conceded, reaching up to again card my fingers through his hair. “It’s just…they didn’t throw you out, Con. They didn’t call us names. They didn’t burn your things. That’s a luxury I didn’t have when I came out to my folks.”

He sighed, pressing his nose against my chest again, kissing over the fabric of my shirt with a pained expression. “I know, baby, and I’m so sorry. Just–I’m taking care of you from now on, alright? You don’t have to worry about that stupid shit anymore.”

“I know sweetheart,” I sighed, leaning down to kiss him again, knotting my hands into his long hair and going deeper, feeling Connor’s long legs give way to straddle me, his own hands framing my face to keep me firmly in place.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against my lips, before diving back in with fervor, licking up into my mouth, pulling a small laugh from the both of us.

“Con–” I warned.

“I know,” he groaned, pressing his face into the side of my neck and stretching my shirt collar to reveal a stripe of skin, beginning to suck a vicious hickey there, earning a surprised yelp from me.

“Connor, you can’t–”

“Knock, knock!”

We sprang apart, both of us scrubbing at our faces, attempting to control our breathing. Connor stared wordlessly at the still closed door for a long time, before his mother called his name again and it dawned on him that she was asking permission to enter his room.

“Come in.”

Cynthia smiled apologetically upon entering, balancing a tray in her hands and sitting it on Connor’s desk, still covered in papers, before seating herself in the desk chair. Connor shifted, obviously uncomfortable.

“We haven’t touched your room,” she said softly, smiling a bit differently than she had downstairs. “Left it just the way you liked it.”

“Thanks,” he said softly, picking at the duvet with his fingernails, before thinking better of it and reaching out to take my hand again. Solidarity.

Cynthia Murphy smiled.

“I brought you cookies–Connor doesn’t like pie, I’m not sure if he told you,” she said to me with a grin, extending a plate I took warily, thanking her warmly as I could. “I know a lot of people eat pie on Thanksgiving, but I’m honestly not even very good at making it–”

“Mom,” Connor called desperately, looking at her with wild eyes. Scared.

“Your dad is just fine,” she promised, still smiling at him like he was the most important thing in the world. Connor’s expression told me he’d never seen it before. “And he’s gonna come around. He just needs a minute, is all.”

Connor nodded, admitting it was reasonable, even if he didn’t like it. “You?”

She smiled, and for the first time I noticed her eyes were wet. “You’ve found somebody, sweetheart. That’s the most important thing. Look how much you’ve grown–I’m so proud of you, Connor.”

I let them hug. I let them cry. I let Cynthia hug me, thank me, take my face in her hands and promise me that I had a home here as long as I loved her son.

It was a lot. It was so much.

And when it was over, it was Connor and I wrapped around each other in his twin bed, our faces desperately close and whispering softly to each other.

“I think my mom wants me to propose.”

“You sure your dad’s heart can take it?”

“Haha, Prince Charming, you’re hilarious.”

A beat of silence, so long that I thought he’d fallen asleep, before I felt his lips linger at my temple. “Thanks for loving me.”

I tightened my grip on his sides, kissing his collar bone lightly. “Always, sweetheart.”

ever just the same [connor murphy x reader]

requested// ‘a connor x reader in a beauty and the beast AU! where the reader is belle and connor is the beast. oh, and can evan be chip because he is a pure cinnamon roll’

author’s note// this is probably not at all what you wanted, i modernized it, and it sucks so many kinds of ass why do you guys follow me honestly!! also zoe is the wardrobe, alana is mrs potts, evan is chip, and jared is lumiere ,, no cogsworth whoOps!!!


word count; 1,744

tw; self harm scars mention, literal?? captivity??, poor writing i hate this so much

“Connor, come on, just try and be nice to her.” Zoe grumbled, all of her friends surrounding her on the floor. “She’s staying her against her will, you could at least be fucking nice to her.” Zoe scoffed, all of her friends sitting around her agreeing. 

“She’s a very nice girl, she probably just hates you because you’re such a dickhead to her. Maybe, just maybe, she’d actually I don’t know, hangout with you if you tried being nice to her.” Alana Beck, the know it all asshole bitch of the school whom Connor hated with every bone in his body retorted taking a sip of her cherry fanta. 

“Don’t remember asking you, Beck.” Connor spat, turning his attention back to his sister, the only person he could only slightly tolerate in this room other than her incredibly anxious friend. 

“Listen, her dad is in jail because of a lawsuit our father filed. She’s staying here because you felt bad, and now you’re an asshole about it?” Zoe questioned, though he knew it was a rhetorical question. She wasn’t wrong, but she also wasn’t completely correct. He had basically blackmailed you to stay with him, why, you really had no idea. He had a crush on you for the longest time, but he was also had a running bet with Jared Kleinman. The bet was a mutual ‘gettin with’ sort of bet. Connor had to get with the girl who was always in the library, you, and Jared had to get with the school’s goth chick. Connor wasn’t a fan of it being a sex game, so kissing was enough for him, though he knew that treating women as a game was pretty horrible. He still wanted to win, and when Connor knew very well that you were involved in your father’s big bust, he used the only opening that he could get to get you to come stay with him out of all people as her father served his time. 

“Whatever, what am I supposed to do? She’s so difficult, she won’t even have dinner with me.” He grunted, plopping down on the arm of the chair. His sister quickly moved her arm off of her chair with a huff. 

“Literally, just be a semi decent human being to her.” Zoe proceeded to shove him off of the arm of the chair, “She went out for a walk a few minutes ago a-” Connor quickly cut her off, basically in a frenzy. 

“She fucking what?” He basically spat, starting to sprint out of the front door, not caring he hadn’t bothered to put on a long sleeved shirt or a jacket, so all of the scars on his arms were out and visible. He was outside, the cool October air hitting his skin. He didn’t really have much time to enjoy the feeling, because he faintly saw the outline of your body speed walking down the sidewalk. His heart skipped a beat. He then took off into a complete sprint, you not having noticed him quite yet. It didn’t take all that long for him to catch up to you, he was a rather fast runner. He tugged on your arm, causing you to completely turn around, and your eyes widened, not expecting Connor to be here. 

“Get away from me, Connor. I’m done with your shitty games.” You yanked your arm away from him. “You can turn me in wherever or whenever you want. I do not care.” You snapped, trying to turn away, but Connor’s hand was still holding onto your wrist rather tightly. 

“Fuck, just let me take you out on a date. One fucking date, that is all I ask. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy or-” You cut him off almost instantaneously with a simple wave of your hand. He stopped his words as fast as you waved your hand. 

“You will take me on a fucking fancy date, because if I have to go on one with you, it’s going to be fancy, are we understood?” You narrowed your eyes at him, and it almost horrified him. He nodded quickly, knowing that you may just bite his arm off if he so much as protested. “I’m gonna continue my walk. I’ll be home later. I will get ready then for said fancy date. Because it is happening tonight. Impress me.” And with that, you turned and continued to walk. The only thing he could think about was how you called his house home. 

Connor basically ran home, knowing exactly what he had to do. He swung his front door open in a literal frenzy. 

“You gotta help me plan a fancy date.” And with that, everyone got to work just like that. Zoe insisted upon helping you get ready, knowing she had a perfect yellow dress that you could wear that would look absolutely stunning on you. She also wanted to provide the music, since she was obsessed with that fucking jazz guitar. Alana wanted to make the food, Evan helped her out a bit, a little clueless, but helpful nonetheless. Jared said he would ‘set the mood’ and make it look all romantic and nice. Which he was oddly good at, he made the living room into a pretty little candle and christmas light lit cafe looking restaurant, even running over to his house across the street to smuggle some wine, which he had to admit, was nice. 

The second you walked in, he screamed at you to close your eyes, and for Zoe to come and get you to take you upstairs to get ready. 

“What the hell is this?” You chuckled, tumbling a little into Zoe’s room. She just shrugged, gesturing for you to sit down in front of her vanity. 

“How do you want your hair?” She asked simply, and you just shrugged, the way she had before. “I’m gonna do your hair like Belle in Beauty and the Beast.” She declared, staring to curl the ends, and it looked absolutely lovely. You loved it, and the little twist bun at the top was the best part. She then started on your makeup, not much though, since you really didn’t need it. Mainly gold accents on your eyelids, some eyeliner, and some lipstick. “You look gorgeous.” She smiled. “Now, put on that yellow dress. I gotta go make sure Connor knows how to put on his shirt. I’ll be back to get you.” She rolled her eyes, and with that, she walked out of the room. You looked at the yellow cocktail dress, the sparkling accents that dusted the skirt. It was lovely, but you didn’t want to put that on your body. Not for Connor Murphy at least. 

But you did promise. You promised you would go on that stupid date, and you were about to. Not that you’d enjoy it for a second, but you were going to do it. You quickly stripped and pulled that yellow cocktail dress on over your underwear and you took a couple of quick steps over to the mirror. It was beautiful. Lovely, even. You may even ask if you could borrow this for homecoming, if you went that is. You took a deep breath and stepped into your black flats, just finishing up the look. You couldn’t remember a time you had looked better, and you hated the fact you were looking this good for Connor Murphy. Of all people. 

After only a few minutes, you heard a soft knock on the door, it being Zoe as she peeked her head in, a wide smile on her face. 

“You look beautiful!” She exclaimed, looking at you in that yellow dress she knew would be perfect on you. You didn’t really respond, just shooting her a weak smile. “Okay, he’s ready, you can come on now!” You could tell she was holding back a squeal, which caused you to roll your eyes and take small careful steps towards the door, pulling it open even more. Zoe backed away and started to scurry down the stairs. You were kind of confused, but you looked over the banister, and saw that they had done up downstairs rather nice. 

Everything was rather lovely, the lights dim, a small table with some spaghetti and meatballs on the table with some candles, the entire downstairs covered in mostly white Christmas lights. They seemed to have run out of the white lights and settled for some colored ones to add on. It didn’t really matter. 

You were taken out of your daze when a voice bellowed to you, “You look stunning.” You jumped a bit, looking over at Connor, he looked rather nice actually. He was wearing a blue suit, the pants and jacket probably a little too short on him. They were probably old, since Connor had stretched out to be really long the summer before freshman year. He was so incredibly tall… And maybe even a bit handsome with his hair pulled back just a bit. He also started growing his hair long, and you had to admit, it looked rather good. 

“You too.” You stuttered out, instantly regretting it, feeling your face flush a light shade of pink, knowing you had just called Connor Murphy stunning. “I mean… I mean you look good.” You gave him a small smile. He chuckled a little and strode over to you, extending his long arm, his hand held out to you. Without even thinking, you placed your small hand in his bony fingers. 

“Shall we?” He raised an eyebrow. You felt your whole body warm up, a pit growing ever so slowly in your stomach. You could feel yourself blushing, wishing that your skin would never leave Connor’s again. 

“I suppose we shall.” You smiled and took his hand. You both stared down the stairs, and you saw Jared scurry over to the stereo, pressing play, the tune of ‘Tale as Old As Time’ playing through the stereo. He then ran away, probably to join Zoe, Evan, and Alana somewhere. You felt your heart race as Connor led you all the way down the stairs and over to the table. He pulled the chair back for you as you sat, and your heart fluttered. He then sat in front of you, and he looked… Different almost. Happy, maybe was the correct word, but he looked different. And the different was good. 

There may be something there that wasn’t there before. 

author’s note// this imagine has been ruining my life for the past couple of weeks, it is over please love it it sucks i actually hate this i wanna kill myself the next one wILL BE GOOD I PROMISE

Leave. Me. Alone. ~ Connor Murphy x Hijab!Reader

Requested by @ok-ladies-lets-get-in-formation guys they are the sweetest little bean! They’re so nice and kind and just amazing all around! They requested a Connor x Hijab!Reader and they were kind enough to give me information about a Hijab and they people who wear them. So thank you again! 

WC: 1179

Warning: Swearing, Racist comments


“Alright, alright! I’m coming,” you called out to your boyfriend, Connor, who was currently waiting in your driveway. Quickly, you grabbed your bag, gave your parents a goodbye kiss on their cheeks, and ran out the door. “Hi, Zoe. Hey, Con,” you said, getting into the passenger side of Connors truck.

Keep reading

I’m Ok, You’re Ok

Requested by @mkfstcnnrmrph: Hi there! Could you do a connor Murphy x reader fic? I don’t really mind what the plot is. I just need some more connor Murphy in my life! Thanks for opening requests!!!!

Pairing: Connor Murphy x Reader

Word Count: 1516

TW: A bit of anxiety and having a bad day but nothing too major. Some swearing but not a whole lot.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! Hopefully you like this; I was able to let my imagination go a bit wild on this one! Xoxo

Keep reading

Noontime Coffee

Anon said:can you write some mcpriceley fluff? i absolutely love your writing!!

I’ve always wanted to write McPriceley but never got around to it. I hope this is guud!


“Elder?! Elder!!” A lilted voice shook Keven from his pleasant sleep. For a moment he just laid there, confused. It was just like when he slept over at his friend’s houses as a child and when he woke up fro a few moments he didn’t realize where he was. But after a few moments, he realized he was simply laying in the bed he had been sleeping in for months at the missionary living quarters, or as Arnold called it, “The Command Center”.

And the mildly nasally voice on the other side of the door was that of Elder McKinley. He had not paused a second as he continued to bang on the bedroom door. “Elder Price! It’s nearly noon!”

Oh heck.

Keep reading

Connor McDavid #1.3

Hi guys! As requested, this is the last part of the original Connor McDavid drabble. Part 1 and Part 2.

Word count:1,161


You looked at Connor, ex-boyfriend extraordinaire, who was driving you to the airport, “What?”

“What did you think?” He just got out of a win via an intense over time game and he was asking for your opinion, like he always did when he was still playing for the Eerie Otters… and you were still together.

Refusing to fall back into old patterns, you shrugged, “it’s a hockey game, Connor.”

Keep reading

Nerves~Jack Maynard fanfic

          A/N: lmao sorry it’s hella long

          I’d been with Jack for almost a year, but I felt as though something was missing. I knew was it was, I just wanted to deny it. It was sex. A partial reason was us getting little privacy between Josh and Connor or Mikey, who didn’t even live with the guys. But the biggest reason was because I was a virgin. It wasn’t like I was ashamed, I was just scared. Jack had so much experience, and what would happen if I didn’t live up to those expectations those previous girls had set for me? What if he had weird fetishes I couldn’t fulfill? So many questions raced through my mind when I thought about it, so I tried not to to avoid the unnecessary stress of it.

          But the thought came to mind once more when we were cuddled up to one another on the plush couch watching Stranger Things. We weren’t paying much attention as we were more focused on our fluffy makeout session. Things got handsy but once things got a little too heavy, I pulled away. I heard Jack sigh in frustration, but he turned away out of understanding. He began to pay attention, and we watched the kids explore the Upside Down.

          Just a few minutes later, I felt his hand on my thigh. This was normal, until his hand began to slip farther and farther up my leg. I swiftly jumped up and said, “I’m gonna make some popcorn, want some?” He exhaled heavily through his nose and shrugged. “Whatever.”

          I knew he was growing tired of me avoiding getting anymore intimate than we already were. It was obvious in his body language. I also assumed he knew I was inexperienced, but, as I thought some more, I realized we never had a conversation about sex. It was something we had never discussed in great detail. As I thought about it more while watching the kernels pop, I felt Jack’s warm arms wrap around my waist. He kissed my head and I turned to face him. He began to kiss again, this time he pushed me against the counter. 

          As things got more intense, like clockwork, the timer on the microwave went off. I slipped out of his grasp and went to go grab the popcorn, but he grabbed my wrist. As I turned to face him, disappointment was shadowed across his face. He looked at me, shook his head, and turned to walk away. “Jack,” I sighed.

          “I just-” he began. “Did I do something wrong? Did I make you uncomfortable in any way? Because, if I did, I’m sorry.”

          “Jack, you did nothing wrong. It’s me… I just… I don’t know.”

          “Have you had bad experiences before?”

          “Well, no…”

          “Then what? What is it?”

          “I’ve never had a bad experience or a good experience because I have… I have no experience.” Jack looked shocked. “But you’re hot,” he stated, simply dumbfounded. I began to crack up. “So?” I asked. “I never felt comfortable enough with any of my previous boyfriends. By the time I began dating you, I got too scared.” Jack began to chuckle. “What do you mean scared? Like, of the pain?” he asked.

          “Well, yeah. But that’s not the main issue.”

          “What’s the main issue?”

          “What if I suck? I mean, you’ve been with so many girls. You must have all these requirements.” Jack bellowed with laughter. “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” he screamed through his mad cackling. “Why do you think I never dated those girls? They were rubbish. I mean, yeah, they were decent enough after about 6 bottles of vodka. But I never kept them around for a reason.”

          “Thanks, that’s reassuring…” I grumble.

          “But I genuinely love you,” he said with the utmost sincerity. He began to kiss me again. It was soft, unlike earlier. The kiss deepened as things got more intense. He took my hand and led me to his bedroom as he gave me a sly smile and wiggled his eyebrows. I giggled in response, slightly blushing. I kept it cool on the outside, but I was screaming internally. So much could and most likely will go wrong. “It’s gonna hurt like Hell, that’s for damn sure. What if I suck? What if he sucks? What if I trap his dick in me?” Thoughts rushed all around. We walked in and I stood awkwardly as I awaited instruction. “Love,” Jack said. “You know, sex works best naked. There’s a quick tip.” I smacked his arm after he took his shirt off, showing his lean and sculpted body.

          After getting distracted by my boyfriend’s incredible body, I began to strip slowly. I took my socks off, then froze. “Jack’s never seen me naked. What if he thinks my body is gross?” I shook the thought as I reached for the waistband of my leggings. I turned and saw Jack’s eyes wander all over my body, like he was watching a present be unraveled. “Turn away! No peeking!” I snapped. He gave a bewildered look, but turned away. I took off my sweater and leggings, then my bra and underwear after some more internal debate.

          Jack turned back around and scanned my body. His eyes flickered to meet mine, and they were heavy with lust. I looked down to see his dick half hard. I gulped. “How the fuck is that gonna fit in me?” Jack looked at me and chuckled. “I know, he’s quite intimidating. His bark is worse then his bite.” I just gave him a blank stare as I made my way to the bed. I laid myself down and Jack knelled in between my legs. He ran his fingers against my soaking core and a shiver of pleasure ran through my body. It felt different when someone else was touching me, but it was way better. 

          “Do you finger yourself, babe?” Jack asked, stroking him and me. I nodded, words lost to my mind. He smiled as he began to dip three fingers in. I twisted my face in slight discomfort. I could just barely fit two of my own fingers inside of myself, but Jack’s fingers were nearly twice the size of mine. He slowly moved in and out as I began to build up more and more pleasure after getting used to the size difference. As I got close, he pulled away. “Just making you a little more prepared for me, love,” he teased after I whined in disapproval. 

          He was fully hard at this point and slipped the condom on. “You ready?” He asked, stroking my cheek softly. I nodded and he smiled. He lined himself up with my pussy, and kissed me as he rocked his hips into me. I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs. I’ve never experienced any sort of feeling such as this. It was nothing but a clash of pleasure and pain. After sitting for a moment, he began to rock his hips in and out. Pleasure began to outweigh pain, and I began to feel the best I’ve felt in my entire life. “Harder!” “Faster!” “More!” I wanted nothing more than him to pound me into infinity. I felt my body tighten and Jack felt it too. “I’m close too,” he whispered breathlessly. “Together?” I nodded as an answer. “Okay,” he said. “On the count of 3. Okay?” I nodded again as words had left my body ages ago. “1… 2… 3!” We both climaxed, and I felt as though I was moving though space and time.

          “So?” he asked. “How was it?”

          “Why haven’t I tried this before?”

fuck-chocolate  asked:

heyy, im in need for some solangelo,fics any suggestion? (i love your "how not get your otp togheter" fanfic,btw)


Also oh wow “How Not to Get Your OTP Together” is everyone’s fav lol. And if you haven’t read it here’s the link: https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10759065/1/

SUMMARY: Basically everyone is trying to get Will and Nico together, but it backfires hilariously every time. Next update won’t be until January though.

Along with the link to my FF profile: https://m.fanfiction.net/u/4390163/

Okay let’s start this list, going from the most recently updated in my favorite stories list:

PROVE YOUR WORTH (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10843680/1/Prove-Your-Worth) by xX.Chu-Chan.Xx (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/1829947/xX-Chu-Chan-Xx) and her Tumblr (http://xxchuchanxx.tumblr.com). Wait a sec OH MY GODS THIS FIC UPDATED HOLY SHIT must read Chapter Five after I finish this okay.

SUMMARY: Will and Nico are starting to develop feelings for each other, but Nico’s friends are being a little bit too overprotective of him. However, this isn’t stopping Will from joining them on a trip to New Rome, and Nico from having dreams with Will in them. WAIT THAT SOUNDED WRONG NO NOT LIKE THAT

WHEN MY LIFE BEGINS (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10855160/1/When-My-Life-Begins) by AndNowWeDance (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/2724942/AndNowWeDance)

SUMMARY: Guys this is literally a Tangled AU of Solangelo but it still has demigods and Titans and gods and all that jazz in it and it’s still sorta in modern times YOU HAVE TO READ THIS I AM BEGGING YOU I LOVE IT SO MUCH

Shades of Sunlight (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10778844/1/Shades-of-Sunlight) by scorchedtrees (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/1167027/scorchedtrees)

SUMMARY: First off the title name is v pretty like wow. Second off it’s literally them being huge dorks I mean the pickup lines chapter slayed me

WRONG NUMBER (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10897744/1/Wrong-Number) by EffervescentGrace (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/6337874/EffervescentGrace)

SUMMARY: Okay, so this one is an all-mortal AU, where Nico accidentally texts Will bc he entered a number wrong. This one is great because not only are they fanboys (They had intense discussions on Free! fanfiction and Korrasami being canon), but they also sEND EACH OTHER TERRIBLE PUNS DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PUNS I HAVE LEARNED FROM THIS FIC IT IS FANBOYING AND TERRIBLE PUNS I AM IN L O vE

LIGHT (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10926000/1/Light) by ghostyStarr (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/4663028/ghostyStarr)

SUMMARY: Nico’s in Wal-Mart at some ungodly deciding on diapers for his adopted daughter I SLAMMED THE LINK BUTTON SO HARD WHEN I FIRST SAW IT BC SOLANGELO WITH ADOPTED CHILDREN OKaY

ROMEO AND JULIET-STARTING WILL SOLACE AND NICO DI ANGELO (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10771467/1/Romeo-and-Juliet-Starring-Will-Solace-and-Nico-di-Angelo) by moonshroom420 (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/4315430/moonshroom420)

SUMMARY: Percy purposely puts Nico and Will together for an English project at their all-boys boarding school. Lee Fletcher strangled a tree in it it was great. Oh yeah this author loves my fics and they are great as well I’m serious. Also this one updated too must read later

SO MUCH FOR A WALK ON THE BEACH (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10905172/1/So-Much-For-A-Walk-On-The-Beach) by gummyworms4ever (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/6347267/gummyworms4ever)

SUMMARY: Basically everything and everyone wants to cockblock Will and Nico like there is no other way to put it

ASYMPTOTES (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10884290/1/Asymptotes) by ghostyStarr (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/4663028/ghostyStarr)

SUMMARY: College AU where Will is the hugest nerd and Nico has so many tattoos that it would make my parents faint. Punk!Nico is just my favorite thing EVER OKAY

CHRISTMAS SERENADE (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10913958/1/Christmas-Serenade) by Live Don’t Just Exist (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/1833454/Live-Don-t-Just-Exist) and her tumblr (ilyamatsuna7227li.tumblr.com)

SUMMARY: Will and Nico are dorks who can’t properly serenade each other. Also I love this author so I’ll just post the rest of her Solangelo fics here okay

FLIP (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10893882/1/Flip) by Live Don’t Just Exist

SUMMARY: AU where instead of Percy and Jason it was Jason and NICO also the changes made were fantastic like the backstory of Will and Nico’s relationship more like shove it up my ass so I can read it forever. Okay that was weird sorry

I’LL STAY WITH YOU (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10853701/1/I-ll-Stay-With-You) by Live Don’t Just Exist

SUMMARY: Please read this and join in my suffering.

FORGET-ME-NOT BLACK (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10838764/1/Forget-Me-Not-Black) by Live Don’t Just Exist

SUMMARY: Nico got Leo back to camp but he majorly pissed off this one person so now everyone is starting to forget that Nico ever existed.

ALTERNATE SUMMARY: *me bawling my eyes out*

QUEST FOR A GOD (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10767661/1/Quest-for-a-God) by yepiwrite (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/4158797/yepiwrite)

SUMMARY: Will and Nico are out on a quest to save Apollo. Unfortunately, Drew decided to tag along bc she likes Will. Also I don’t even understand Chapter 11 can someone read it and tell me what went down please and thanks

THREE TIMES (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10762025/1/Three-Times) by morbid bookworm (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/3698499/morbid-bookworm)

SUMMARY: Three one-shots centering around different parts of the Solangelo relationship where Nico was the one that got away and Will is definitely singing that song in his head every time. ALSO THERE’S FUCKING LOU ELLEN/MIRANDA IN CHAPTER TWO LIKE HOLY FUCKING SHIT I WAS HOPING IT WOULD HAPPEN AND THEN IT HAPPENED AND I WAS NEARLY CRYING I SWEAR LONG LIVE BISEXUAL LOU ELLEN

Plus Connor has the greatest line in the whole thing: “Well, I’m single as a Pringle, ready to mingle, and I have no preferences!” Like my life motto right there.

The author is another one of my adoring fans, and I adore her in return. I’ll posting more links of her fics.

THE DARKEST DAY (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10906849/1/The-Darkest-Day) by morbid bookworm

SUMMARY: Will’s birthday, in a morbid twist of irony, is the Winter Solstice, and all he can think is “wtf where is Nico I haven’t seen him all day.” Although I’m really frustrated bc they don’t become canon in this one I can’t wait for her to write something with them being canon. ALSO HINTS OF LOU ELLEN/MIRANDA I DIED

YOUR BONES (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10869679/1/Your-Bones) by morbid bookworm

SUMMARY: Will has a nightmare and he goes to the Hades cabin for comfort, only to find that Nico has left the building. Again, not canon Solangelo, but the gay is so strong that I nearly stopped being pansexual (WILL FUCKING STARED AT HIM FOR PETE’S SAKE). Also Will’s dream about the desert was him dreaming about the future and not a single one of you can tell me otherwise mkay.

TICKLE FIGHTS, LULLABIES, AND FIRST KISSES (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10916132/1/Tickle-Fights-Lullabies-and-First-Kisses) by StarKid Axis Powers (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/4053638/StarKid-Axis-Powers) also the username is funny lol

SUMMARY: Not really Solangelo-centric, but yeah. Involves Percy, Nico, and Jason bonding, which is always a fantabulous thing in my book. Also Jason dorking around and Piper singing and Percy messing up Harry Potter AND SOLANGELO’S FIRST KISS I DIED

WAKE ME UP WHEN DECEMBER ENDS (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10908181/1/Wake-Me-Up-When-December-Ends) by xX.Chu-Chan.Xx (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/1829947/xX-Chu-Chan-Xx)

SUMMARY: Nico gets knocked out and Will is pissed af about this. Featuring a guitar, a Santa costume, and Will getting body-slammed at some point. Also a scarf/beach towel. And can we PLEASE APPRECIATE THE JOKE IN THE TITLE PLEASE???

A WINTER SKATE (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10914959/1/A-Winter-Skate) by The Needless Lobsters (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/2404990/The-Needless-Lobsters)

SUMMARY: Solangelo becomes canon(ish), more of the sons of the Big Three being bros, and all of the couples being cute together.

GREATEST TIME OF YEAR (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10880929/1/Greatest-Time-Of-Year) by A Battle Inside My Heart (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/3467469/A-Battle-Inside-My-Heart) I love that username as well lol

SUMMARY: Chapters 3 and 4 are the only Solangelo-centric ones, but Chapter 2 is good and Chapter 1 is Frazel being adorable dorks and Solangelo is mentioned. ALSO I THINK IT HINTED AT NICO PROPOSING TO WILL IN CHAPTER 1??? IDK I THINK IT DID I NEARLY PISSED MYSELF WITH EXCITEMENT

FRIES BEFORE GUYS (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10767308/1/Fries-before-Guys) by ghostyStarr (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/4663028/ghostyStarr)

SUMMARY: College AU where Will works at McDonald’s and Nico is an Italian exchange student. Basically little one-shots I love them.

COBALT BLUE (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10865562/1/Cobalt-Blue) by mintacia (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/1137137/Mintacia)


ACTUAL SUMMARY: When Will comes back to Camp Half-Blood the summer after the Giant War, Nico thinks that he’s acting a little strange, and then he realizes that Will might be appearing in two places at once. THIS STORY WILL CHANGE YOU I CANT TELL YOU HOW MANY TIMES I HAVE SLAMMED MY PHONE DOWN ON THE BED AND SCREAMED OVER THIS FIC ALRIGHT

And, last but far from least…

WILL SOLACE AND THE ORACLE’S CRY (https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10778768/1/Will-Solace-and-the-Oracle-s-Cry) by A. P. HSIAO (https://m.fanfiction.net/u/6205829/)

SUMMARY: Written by another one of my faithful fans. Anyways, Will and Nico are on a quest to save Apollo and the Oracle’s Spirit, and Nico gets “skysick” at one point. Also “Fred” (coughAPOLLOcough) will be tagging along at some point. I can’t wait for him to embarrass Will.

And there’s more, but you’ll have to scroll through the Percy Jackson section of my favorite stories page on FanFiction. I only grabbed most of these from the first three pages, and that wasn’t even all of them!

Well, hope that you like this masterlist of fics! I sure do. Now, I must catch up on those that have updated that I must read. Also I lost my place in one fic that is literally 29 chapters ugh.


The Vamps Au Meme

This au meme was heavily requested when I came up with the idea and I’ve now finally got round to writing it😊

Blurb - You have been friends with The Vamps for a very long time. However, a game of Truth or Dare takes a unexpected turn when Brad Simpson wants to be more than just friends.

“Truth or dare, Con?”
He cocked an eyebrow and stared at you. He knew you were no good at picking dares, but this time you were a little more prepared. You’d done your research.
You laughed slowly, smirking at the Scottish boy sat across the circle from you.
“I dare you to take your pants off and run all the way down the street.” You said as Connor opened his mouth in shock. “And back.”
Never one to shy away from a dare, Connor left the circle as you all followed, snickering. He opened your front door, sighing and left his pants behind, sprinting down the street as fast as he could. This was pretty usual, to be fair.

You’d been best friends with all of The Vamps ever since they began rehearsing in your next door neighbour’s garden two years ago. Back then, you didn’t even know of the boy next door, Brad Simpson, or his friends, Tristan Evans and James Mcvey. But soon enough, you four were hanging out 24/7, or as close to that as you could get. When Connor Ball joined the band, he fitted in straight away and became your best friend too.

“Connor!” Brad shouted, laughing when Connor came back into the house, pants back on his body.
“Well in, buddy.” Tristan clapped him on the back and you all headed back to the living room, into your circle.
“Drink! Drink! Drink!” Connor chanted. That was the thing with The Vamps. There was always a twist. So James poured you four shots and you all downed them while Connor cheered. You were pretty hammered, to be honest.
“Truth or dare, James?” Tristan asked. They both exchanged a glance with each other and then with Connor.
“Dare.” James responded.
“Fine,” Tristan smirked. “I dare you to kiss Y/N.”
There was a moment of shock, from you and then from Brad. The boys chuckled.
“Alright.” James said, leaning in towards you.
“Woah, woah. You guys want me to kiss James? Are you fucking kidding me?” You hissed, trying to laugh it off but pulling away at the same time.
“Yeah guys, come on.” Brad pleaded, only receiving smirks.
“Got a problem?” Tristan mocked, lifting an eyebrow. Brad sighed, defeated.
“Y/N doesn’t want to do it, that’s all.” He said.
“She can take a shot then.” Connor fired back. You were not prepared to take another drink. You were drunk enough.
“Urgh, fine.” You groaned and James leaned in towards you. His lips met yours and the shock passed quickly, his hand cupping your cheek and another on the back of your neck. You didn’t enjoy it. But you could certainly kiss worse people and that’s what kept you there.
“Fuck this.” Brad grunted. You and James broke apart and turned to see Brad slamming the living room door. The boys laughed towards each other, but you were utterly confused and worried all at once. You pulled away from James and leapt to your feet, heading for the door.
“Brad? Brad, wait!” You shouted. Connor grabbed your wrist, looking you dead in the eyes.
“Leave him.” He told you.
“What? Why?” You asked.
“Because he won’t tell you the reason.” James smirked, wiping your lip gloss off his mouth. You almost lunged at him, but you knew it was only banter. Plus Connor still had hold of you.
“What reason? What are you guys talking about?” You asked, nervous because Brad was somewhere upset.
“You’re so blind.” Tristan muttered.
“Just tell me!” You shouted, on the verge of snapping Connor’s hand and pinning them all against a wall. “Please.”
“Brad likes you. Like really likes you. He won’t stop going on about you,” Connor explained gently, running patterns over your palm. “You’re his world.”
“But…but he’s my…he’s…” The words defeated you and you gave up, running out of the room in search of Brad. You checked upstairs, the kitchen, the basement but he was nowhere to be found. You left the house and looked up and down the street and saw him, head down, thumbs in pockets, kicking stones on the pavement. You tore after him, full sprint, desperate to reach him.
“Brad!” You shouted. He turned then continued to walk away. “Brad! Please wait, Brad!”
You caught up to him and stood right in front of him, blocking his way.
“They told you didn’t they?” Brad mumbled, sinking down to sit on the kerb.
“Course they did,” You smiled, trying to lighten the mood and then defeatedly sat down next to him. “Why did you walk off like that?”
“I don’t know.” He muttered.
“Yes you do. I’ve known you for too long to know when you’re lying.” You said, nudging him with your shoulder.
“I guess I just wished that you would kiss me like you kissed James.” He mumbled. You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers with his and he looked up as you did it.
“You could have just told me that.” You smiled gently. Brad leaned in, ever so slightly, and you followed, looking into his eyes and squeezing his hand carefully.
“And why would I do that?” Brad smirked, your lips so close now you could feel his breath against your lips.
“Because I would have kissed you instead.” Your lips touched as you spoke and they met fully as you finished, moving gently with each other, your free hand running through Brad’s hair.
“Does this mean you’ll go out with me?” Brad asked.
“Of course it does, you shit.” You laughed and Brad pulled you back into another kiss. You in no way knew when the feelings crossed over you, but all you knew was that you wanted to stay here, kissing the Brad Simpson, forever. And that wasn’t a bad thing.

I wasn’t considering a part 2, but I’d really like to do one. I still have to finish writing the deleted request which is really fucking annoying, but idk?
I love you guys 😘

The Vamps Preference- He Teaches You How To Kiss

(Connor & Tristan)

Connor- You had always been the more outgoing friend of you two, you and Connor that is. So walking to his house you were completely confident in what you were going to ask him. Tomorrow you had a date with the guys you had liked for 5 years and definitely didn’t want to mess it up. There was only one problem, you had never ever kissed anyone, not even on the cheek. It was like you were guy repellent when it came to getting physical. You needed someone to teach you so you wouldn’t mess it up when it really mattered, so who better than the guy you could count on for anything and everything, Connor. Going straight to his room you shut the door behind you. Looking over to you Connor laughed a little when you saw your serious face, “Hey (Y/N), what’s up?” He asked looking up at you from his desk chair, music sheets spread out across the desk. “I need you to teach me how to kiss.” Connor looked away laughing but when he looked back at you he saw you were serious. “Haha ok well how exactly am I supposed to do that?” Connor laughed. You stated intensely at him, he got it a blush appearing on his cheeks. He brought his hand to scratch the back of his neck. “Um, I don’t really think that’s a good idea,” he tried to convince you but your determination never left your face. You walked over to him and pulled him up so that he was so close that you could feel his breath. “Come on! Please!” You begged and grabbed his hand, squeezing a little and pushing your bottom lip out extra far. “Um,uh uh ok,” he stuttered out and you two sat on his bed. He continued to rub his neck and you stared at him waiting for him to do something. You let out a silent sigh and decided to try and engage him. Moving closer to him and placing your hand on his knee he looked up and swallowed. He started to lean and you followed. Centimeters apart he stopped and looked into your eyes, you blushed and nodded almost unnoticeably. He closed his eyes gently and softly placed his lips on yours, you brushed over your jaw with his hand and then placed it on the side of your head. He moved back and forth twisting his head every now and then. You found the hem of his shirt and intertwined your fingers in it, feeling Connor tense up at the sudden contact your hand had with the bare skin of this abdomen. You let go of his shirt and backed out of the kiss as Connors hand slid up your thigh. Leaving the room you left behind an embarrassed and blushing Connor. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea.

Tristan- Hanging out at Brad’s house with all the boys you were in the middle of playing truth or dare. You always chose truth no matter how much the boys pestered you. They were always choosing dare, fearless of the kitchen concoctions and stripping they took part in. At the moment James was shirtless and Brad was in his boxers. It was your turn again and keeping to your usual choice of truth Brad supplied the question. “Who is the best kisser you have ever kissed?” Brad smiled at you and wiggles his eyebrows. Connor hit him in the shoulder but couldn’t help but lean forward in anticipation of the answer. You cleared your throat, “Umm, I don’t know.” “Oh come on. You chose truth, you have to answer. We won’t laugh,” James prodded. “Much.” Brad winked at you. You whispered, barely audible “I’ve never kissed anyone.” The boys leaned back in disbelief, “Ok well then I guess this truth can’t be answered. Next! Tristan, your turn.” James moved on quickly. “I choose dare,” “Ok.Let me consult my colleagues.” You waited, staring at your cross-crossed legs. “Ok, we’ve got it. Tristan I dare you to kiss (Y/N). And no cheap pecks!” Your head snapped up to James and then to Tristan who shrugged and turned to face you. But looked back over to the other boys “do I have to do it here?” “Yes!” They yelled back in unison. Butterflies rumbled in the pit of your stomach, but seeing Tristan so confident gave you a little reassurance. He smiled at you as he leaned in wrapping one of his hands around your neck and the other on top of your knee. “It’s ok, just relax and go with what feels natural.” You nodded in response and let him attach his lips to yours. He guided your head, pushing and pulling his. The other boys whistled and laughed. But at this point you couldn’t hear them anymore. You gripped the collar of his t-shirt, leaving accidental scratch marks on his chest. This felt like it went on forever but then you remember that the boys were watching you and pulled away, Tristan eyes still closed and his hands still on your body. You turned back to the group with your head down. “Ok so (Y/N) who’s the best kisser you’ve ever kissed?” You threw a pillow and Brad and Tristan smiled widely.

Worth It

coliver secret admirer gift exchange

to: @lolguess

Authors Note: I really hope you like it, and I wish you a wonderful February :) There’s an excellent gifset from @getawaywithgifs​ that gave me the boost of inspiration I needed to finish this and perfectly captures the sentiment as well. Also, thank you to the hosts of this exchange for organizing such a fun experience! :)

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a Colver 3x05 fast coda - (ao3)

“Wait! Laurel—What? What happened!?” Michaela yelled in his ear.

Oliver rubbed a hand over his eyes. How had the night come to this? “Something—I don’t know but something happened at Annalise’s. The house is…it’s…” Gone.

He’d seen the flames from blocks away, the smoke billowing up and away in dark and twisted curls. He’d—wait…had he driven in tonight or walked? Where had he left his car? 

“I got there,” he continued telling Michaela into the phone. “And the place is a zoo. Cops. Firemen. Lights blazing.” 

“Where was Laurel?” Michaela demanded. Over the line, Oliver heard her whispering, soft and fast, to her mother, giving her the quick and dirty version. 

“Inside, I think.” He couldn’t remember. It’d only been an hour ago, maybe more, probably more, but still it’d hadn’t been that long and yet he couldn’t get the details right. Couldn’t remember what had come first. “People were gathered outside. Talking about a body. They’d found her alive.” 

That had been her, right? The crowd had been talking about Laurel when he’d first gotten there, how a body had already been found. But…but wait. That had been before the phone…and he’d just finished with the phone they found they rushed out with— 

“But they got her?” Through the phone, Oliver heard a door slam and Michaela’s feet pounding down stairs. “And she’s okay?”

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ramblesandreblogs  asked:

Hi love! I hope you are having a fun/relaxing/amazing Sunday and I was wondering if I could send you a Coliver prompt. It's from a list of reincarnation AUs you reblogged a few days ago. The one where "We only remember each other in alternating lifetimes" one. Obvi, you don't have to write it (no pressure at all!) but I've just been thinking about it. idk, just if you're up for it. Okay, I feel really embarrassed to send this so I'm just gonna send it and then run away. BYE!!!!!!! <3

Oh noes! Don’t run! *clings* <3

Oliver saw Connor across the bar and his stomach twisted into knots. He should have known better than to come here. Connor always did like coming to bars. But Oliver had hoped, however foolishly, that with all the bars in all the world, maybe Connor wouldn’t walk into this one.

But this was just the game they were fated to play, lifetime after lifetime, always finding each other. For good or ill.

Finding each other shouldn’t be a curse, but it was, when only one could remember the other. They alternated who. This lifetime, Oliver had known from an early age that his heart belonged to Connor. He also knew that meant Connor wouldn’t know who he was.

The bartender handed Oliver his drink, Maker’s Manhattan, but Oliver rested it down on the counter. He’d close his tab and leave. He’d pretend he’d never seen Connor, then he wouldn’t have to know the hurt of Connor not remembering him.

“You look familiar,” a voice said from behind him. “Have we met before?”

Oliver froze. He knew that voice. Over a hundred different lifetimes, he’d heard it raised in anger, purred in pleasure, and everything in between. He’d even heard these exact words before, many many times.

So much for escape. Seemed like they were only meant for pain.

“I bet you say that all the time.”

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