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dreaminginpastels · 2 years

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Hi Daniella!, Can I ask for a fem!reader for Conor Murphy, in which the reader has a big family with a couple of brothers and sisters (she is the oldest) and she wants to introduce Connor to them, but my poor Con is very insecure about it ?. If you don't fell like doing it is totally fine, take care ❤

Nela

open your eyes

pairing: connor murphy x fem!reader

summary: connor is finally comfortable to be himself in your relationship when you decide it’s time for him to meet your big family

warnings: slight angst, mentions of mental health struggles, bullying, and insecurity (because it’s Connor)

reader pronouns: she/her (by request)

word count: 1.8k

*✧ deh masterlist | main masterlist | ask | taglist ✧*

Connor Murphy was in love with you. But then again, he’d never really had any other option. You weren’t the type to give up on anyone, and once you’d decided that you would be friends with Connor Murphy, well, the boy didn’t stand a chance.

He’d fallen for you slowly, ever careful with his fragile heart. Had done everything that he could to deter you. He’d put on a tough facade, determined to not fall for those doe eyes of yours, but his walls had started to crumble from the first moment he heard your sweet voice.

It had been your first day of school, a year ago or thereabouts, and he had been grabbing books out of his locker when he’d heard confident steps approaching him. He’d flinched, used to being grabbed and shoved against lockers, or shoved to the ground, books toppling around him. High schoolers were not kind. His nervous system relaxed, however, when he’d seen you looking up at him, shoulders back, with a determined smile on your face. “Hi, I’m new here and-”

“I can tell.”

“Oh! Right, sorry.” You smiled, shaking off his rude interruption. “I’m y/n, it’s my first day and I was wondering if you could tell me where room 416 is?”

He rolled his eyes, painful as it was to treat such adorableness with displeasure. Still, he couldn’t let anyone in. Not when he’d been hurt too many times before. “Look, what I mean is I can tell you’re new here because no one speaks to me unless they’re looking for trouble. But, if it gets you out of my hair, it’s down the hall, to your left, and then your third right. Got it?”

You nodded, smiling up at him as he turned back to his locker. “Thank you…uh…”

He sighed, closing his locker door and turning to you. “It’s Connor.”

“Oh, well thank you Connor, I-”

Your voice had paused as he turned and walked down the hallway in the opposite direction. That hadn’t stopped you though. “I hope you have a great day!”

It would take him months to tell you, but as he walked away from you that day, a small smile spread across his face at your kind words. He told himself not to think anything of it, but figured as he’d probably never see you again, he could allow himself to enjoy that small moment of kindness. It was a rare occurrence for him after all.

Until it wasn’t. A few days later, he was sitting alone in the cafeteria when a lunch tray appeared next to him. Again, he flinched at the sound of it hitting the table, used to being approached by bullies intending to threaten him or tease him about…existing…he figured. But again, he’d been surprised when those increasingly familiar doe eyes looked up at him. “Hi Connor, it’s uh, y/n? We met the other day. I just wanted to say thank you for helping me find my class. It’s nice to have a friend, this school is bigger than I imagined.”

He was flabbergasted. A beautiful girl kept approaching him, and had now decided that they were friends? After a miniscule interaction? He had to be dreaming. These kinds of things didn’t happen to guys like him. And yet there you were, awaiting his response patiently while he sat there like a moron staring blankly back at you. Nice one Connor. He laughed as he thought back to how awkward he’d been.

“People don’t usually sit with me.”

Somehow emboldened by his words, you shuffled closer. He felt his walls begin to crumble. “Well there’s always a first!”

He stared at you before coughing himself into action, he figured he should at least give talking to you a go. “How, uh- How was your first day anyway?”

Your mouth broke into a warm smile. Crumble. “It was alright, a bit lonely, people don’t seem to want to give new people a chance here, but-”

“Oh, they don’t give anyone that isn’t a part of their cliques a chance, don’t take it personally.”

“Thanks Connor,” Those doe eyes met his cautious irises. Crumble. “So how’s your day?”

He grimaced then, not used to people asking him about himself. He took a deep breath and gave his best attempt at a smile. “It’s, uh- okay? I don’t usually have someone to talk to about my day so I’m not really sure what to say.”

You frowned at him, which, against his better judgement, caused a deep laugh to emerge from his chest. Crumble. He couldn’t help it, your concern for him was adorable. Those walls he built to keep himself safe were no match for your kind heart. “Well, here.”

You leaned down and took out a notebook and pen from your bag before writing on the page, ripping it out, and handing it to him. When he took the page from you, his hand trembled as he realised what had happened. He looked up at you with the expression of a child being given their first dose of affection. You smiled, resolute. “Now you have my number, so you can call or text to tell me about your day if you ever want to.”

He couldn’t get the smile off his face for the rest of the day, palming the page in the pocket of his hoodie whenever he needed a reminder that someone as wonderful as you actually seemed to care about him. Little did he know how your heart had soared when, an hour after school, your phone buzzed with his first message:

Hi y/n, this is Connor. Thanks for being my friend. You’re a cool person.

Followed immediately by another after as he realised that his message was a bit cold.

You’d giggled the whole way home.

A year later, and you had happily been dating for eight months. It had been tough, what with Connor’s seemingly endless self-doubts and insecurities, but you were going strong. Connor had made you more considerate and thoughtful, taking extra care to stop and pay attention to the world around you, and you had made him open up, showed him that it was okay to let the world in and that not everyone was out to hurt him.

Connor was finally comfortable being himself, secure in the relationship, when you decided that it was time for your worlds to combine. Your mother had been insisting for months that she wanted to have your boyfriend over for dinner, and having seen Connor so happy lately, you figured now was as good a time as any.

You imagined it going so smoothly, with Connor melting into your arms and being so excited to meet the people that loved you as much as he did. What happened instead was that Connor stared at you wide-eyed for a moment, then stood up, mumbled something about being late for class, and left the cafeteria. Despite it being the middle of the lunch break.

Anyone else would’ve been worried but you knew Connor. He just needed a bit of time to think about things and then he would come find you and talk about it. Sure enough, he approached your locker right after the school bell rang to finish the day.

He looked at you nervously, arms folding in on themselves. “Can, uh, we talk?”

You nodded. “Of course we can, love.”

You walked to a nearby park where you often spent time, the two of you sitting down on a park bench. A group of young kids were kicking a soccer ball around between them, while others sat on swings. You looked at Connor whose gaze was locked on the group kicking the ball around in a desperate bid to avoid your eyes. “Sweetheart, what’s going on in that mind? Please let me in.”

He sighed, studying the gravel below you with his head in his hands. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to meet your family.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern. “And why is that?”

Running his hands through his hair, he finally looked up at you. “I’m not a..people person…like you. I mean, you remember what I was like before we were dating, I’m not good at looking at people, let alone talking to them, let alone trying to impress your family who…”

His eyes widened. “-your large family, who I’m just never going to be enough for. Your parents are already going to stress me out and you can at least hold an adult conversation with them. How am I supposed to make a good impression on your siblings? They’re kids! I’m horrible with kids.”

Just as Connor was returning to his head-in-hands-moping position, a ball landed at his feet. “Hey, pass us the ball!”

Connor slowly stood up, gently dribbling the ball between his feet before jogging over to the group and passing it to the boy that had called out. “Dude, that was some super quick footing before, do you play professionally or something?”

You watched the young boy blush, rubbing a hand behind his neck bashfully. “Haha, no!”

Connor leaned down, “You sure? With moves like that I wouldn’t be surprised if you make the big leagues with some patience and practice!”

The kid squinted up at your boyfriend, smiling excitedly, and your heart melted at the sight. Connor reached over and ruffled the boy’s hair before heading back over to you. He turned around to the boy, pointing a finger at him and calling out, “Gotta put in the hard work, alright?”

The kid nodded as Connor sat back next to you. You noted how his body language had shifted: he was more open, happier, content. At least until he remembered the conversation he had left. He sighed, “I just…they’re going to hate me.”

“Connor, hey,” You reached out an arm, noting the way he flinched before easing into your touch. It broke your heart how much pain he held inside him, despite how far he’d come. How far you both had. “They’re going to love you. You have so much heart, my love. You try so hard to be loving and kind despite all that you’re going through. How could they not love you?”

He lingered in your gaze before looking back out to the park, letting out a deep exhale. You took the opportunity to continue. “I mean, look at how you just made that little boy’s day. He’s not going to forget the guy that went up to him in the park and believed in him and his dreams. If you can do that, you can sure as hell hold a conversation with my siblings.”

He looked up at you, a glint of hope in his eye and a small smile appearing on his face. “You think?”

You smiled, “Absolutely. And besides, do you really think I’d ever let you get hurt by someone, even slightly? If my family says anything that upsets you, I’ll be right there. And I’ll give them a piece of my mind.”

He laughed and wrapped his arms around you, angling down to kiss the top of your hair. “How did I ever get lucky enough to find you?”

You smiled into his embrace, “You opened your eyes.”

a/n: hi lovely Nela! thank you for being so patient waiting for me to tackle one of your wonderful requests. I figured since you’re a bit nervous about your upcoming adventure that I would surprise you with a story to cheer you up! I hope that this is everything that you wanted it to be. thank you for always being such a wonderful friend 💜

p.s. I listened to the writing playlist you made me while writing this and I absolutely adore it 🥰

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silenaist · 3 days

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with challengers coming out, i just wanna say sorry to all the mike gatekeepers from his connor murphy days. praying for yall

#connor murphy x reader #mike faist #challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #zendaya

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jesuistrestriste · 8 months

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im currently writing up a ghostface!dodge mason fic and it's making my brain shortcircuit.. hes so ghostface it's insane. how did i never realize it until now ??

i rarely write fics where the character is more dominant than the reader bc i'm just a fiend for submissive, whiny men, but it just felt right that he would be dom in this fic (i might make a pt 2 where he's more submissive bc.. yea.. im insatiable.)

if u want to get a tinyy sneak peek into what it's going to include, i've updated my masterlist w/ a "coming soon" bit about this upcoming fic hehe i'm very excited

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somedaylazysomeday · 1 year

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Na Buachaillí

While working a collection of temporary jobs over the winter school break, you - a high school science teacher - run into two Irishmen on two separate occasions.

Part One features Murphy and Part Two features Connor. No overlap so far and no twincest.

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

Part Two - Warnings for modern AU, some awkwardness, mentions of alcohol, blatant flirting, discussions of consent, fingering, protected piv sex, squirting.

#masterlist #masterlist update #the boondock saints #murphy macmanus #murphy macmanus x reader #murphy macmanus x you #connor macmanus #connor macmanus x reader #connor macmanus x you #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #spicy #not suitable for minors #minors dni #ink's self reblogs

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ishameless98 · 6 months

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A while back I came across a fanfic about dear evan hansel that has basically the plot of the movie While you were sleeping and I think it had the same name too. But I lost it and there are a lot of fanfics in the fandom and I can't find it any way. Could some caring soul help me out?

#while you were sleeping Evan hansen #deh #dear evan hansen #treebros #connor murphy #evan hansen #connor x evan #evan x connor

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glubberr · 2 years

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Help- 💀

#deh musical #deh #dear evan hansen #musicals #musical theatre #evan murphy- lmao #tree bros #tree bros fic #fanfic #connor murphy #connor x evan #connorxevan #the comments help me-#you can tell ive been on wattpad too much bc of how im talking..

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maysileeewrites · 6 months

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a helping hand - John Murphy x reader

Summary: „Why are you helping me? I’m the bad guy, in case you forgot.“ Set during 1 x 10 (I am become Death), based on this teaser.

warnings: mentions of blood + injuries, angst, Murphy being Murphy (yes, he does have a soft side in this, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not still a dick); please lmk if I forgot something!

AN: I’m not quite sure whether anyone will still care for Murphy x reader in 2023, but I love my trash son so much, I just had to write something about him. Please let me know if you liked it!

You dip the bloodied cloth into the bucket filled with water, watching as the water slowly turns red. Your hands are bloody as well and there’s dried blood crested under your fingernails, but with all the sick teens around you needing medical attendance, you don’t have time to try to thoroughly wash your hands, so you just dip them into the water, grabbing a bar of soap, watching as the water turns an even deeper red.

Blood.

There’s just so much of it.

You sigh, standing up again. There’s no time for dwelling on your thoughts, not when the whole first floor of the Dropship is full of sick, coughing teenagers that need your help.

You go to Fox and Connor next, checking up on them. But apart from trying to clean them up - they’ve started coughing up blood as well - and getting them to drink some water, there isn’t much you can do to actually help them. You have no medicine, no painkillers - apart from Monty’s moonshine and considering that a painkiller really is a stretch in your opinion -, nothing. Only a few spare blankets you and Clarke gave out earlier, in order to help keep everyone warm.

A sudden wave of anger and irritation at your helplessness when faced with this unknown, dangerous virus overcomes you and you clench your fists in frustration. You allow yourself a moment to try and bury that emotion deep inside - because being this emotionally overwhelmed, you won’t be any help to the others -, closing your eyes and breathing deeply.

When you open your eyes again, they land on Murphy - who’s looking right back at you with his good eye, the other one is still swollen shut.

You gulp, trying to swallow down the nervousness that is suddenly clawing its way up your throat. Murphy’s the one who brought the disease into the Camp.

After being tortured by the grounders for days, you try to remind yourself. After being unceremoniously tossed out of Camp for a murder he didn’t commit. And while he’s definitely a rude asshole that can be a bit unpredictable at times - though you think more often than not he’s just lashing out when provoked, attacked, or in case of the whole Charlotte incident, wrongfully accused - you don’t think that he’s as bad as everyone makes him out to be.

But maybe that’s just you being naive, always wanting to see the good in people. He did try to go after Charlotte, after all. Though, you think, that probably had more to do with him seeking justice - a twisted, self-righteous kind of justice, but still justice - than vengeance.

You sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Whatever the deal with Murphy is - and whatever the reason for you to suddenly spend so much of your thoughts on him is - right now, it doesn’t matter.

Right now the only thing that matters is that he’s sick and hurt and he needs someone to help him clean up his wounds and that’s exactly what you’re here for.

So, you take a deep breath and square your shoulders, before walking over to him and dropping down in front of him. His blue-green eyes - the good one at least- meet yours for just a split second, but then he’s looking away again. You dip the cloth into the bucket of water - after helping Fox and Connor you’d gone out to get some fresh water - and reach out for him, but just when you’re about to touch him, he twists away from you.

„What’re you doing?“, he says, his voice low, distrust and irritation evident in his expression.

„Helping you“, you answer, gesturing to the wet cloth in your hands. „Someone needs to clean up your wounds, Murphy.“

He scoffs. „Yeah, right.“

You frown. „Look Murphy, just let me help you, please.“

He doesn’t say anything to that, doesn’t acknowledge your words with anything other than a raise of his eyebrows, but you decide to just take his lack of a verbal response as a good sign - or at least as a sign that he hopefully won’t refuse your help any further.

You wet the cloth cloth again, before carefully reaching your hand out to him again. This time, he doesn’t twist away from you, so you gingerly touch his bloodied and scarred cheek with your fingertips, before carefully applying pressure with the cloth.

All the while, Murphy looks at you, an undecipherable emotion in his blue-green eyes. The intensity of his gaze is distracting, and you swallow, trying to concentrate on cleaning up his wounds, trying to ignore the burning heat of his gaze. Though it’s impossible to really ignore it, with you two being so close that you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, causing you to shiver.

Something shifts in Murphy’s expression then - if you weren’t paying so much attention, you might’ve missed it, but as it is, you can see the bitter smirk that crosses his lips for an instant, before he bites down hard on his lips.

Your eyes meet then. You swallow - you feel caught in his stare, unable to look at anything but him.

„Why are you helping me?“, he asks you, his voice low and raspy and laced with something that almost sounds like desperation. „I’m the bad guy, in case you forgot.“

„Because you need help“, you say, underlining your words by lightly trailing your fingertips over the deep cut on his left cheek. „And because I want to understand you.“ It’s true - you do want to understand him. You want to know how he came to be who he is today, why on earth he set fire to a room on the Ark.

And fuck. This - this is dangerous.

That bitter smirk crosses his face again. „Oh, so you want to know why I’m such a jerk, why I told the Camp’s location to the grounders, is that it?“

„You were tortured“, you say softly, but Murphy only scoffs.

„Yeah, I’m afraid that doesn’t count as an excuse“, he says, voice full of bitterness.

„Wha-“, you start to say, but then you remember that you saw Bellamy talking to Murphy earlier. And yes, that would certainly explain Murphy’s comments about his being tortured not being an excuse for giving up your location.

You sigh frustratedly. Of course you know that Bellamy only wants to protect everyone at Camp, but you also know him well enough to imagine him making some kind of petty remark how he wouldn’t have caved under torture, wouldn’t have given up the Camp’s location.

Which - fuck that. Anyone would eventually cave under torture, even someone as strong-willed and fierce as Bellamy.

Murphy’s hiss of pain when you accidentally linger too long on one of his cuts with your fingertips draws you out of your thoughts. „Sorry“ you say, biting your lip.

Murphy just shrugs and suddenly you’re hit with the desperate urge to help him, even though you’re not quite sure if there even is anything you can do that could make his situation better - apart from cleaning up his wounds, which you already are doing.

„I’m sorry for what happened to you“, you say then, looking at him. „That’s not - I can only imagine what you went through and I really am sorry that that happened to you.“

Murphy looks at you, confusion and irritation evident in his expression.

„And I know that won’t change anything-“

„No it won’t“, Murphy interrupts you, but this time, there’s no venom in his voice - just pain and resignation. „But it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before.“

Now it’s your turn to be confused. As you continue cleaning up his wounds, you mull over his words in your mind, trying to understand what he’s implying with his words. Does he mean that he was tortured on the Ark? But that can’t be right, can it? Yes, the Ark’s council is strict and unforgiving, but you haven’t heard about them torturing somebody.

„Can you even see anything like that?“, Murphy says, interrupting your thought process, and suddenly he’s reaching out with one hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You swallow, trying desperately not to show how much that one little touch affected you. But your heart is thundering so loudly in your chest that you’re convinced that he’s able to hear it.

Especially once you can no longer pretend to re-inspect the cuts on his face yet again - you really need to take a look at the wounds on his chest.

You clear your throat, trying to sound more confident than you feel. „I - uh - I need to take a look at the wounds on your chest, judging by all that blood I’ll probably need to do some stitches … uhm could you - uh - maybe take off your shirt?“

Kill me, you think, wanting to die from embarrassment. Of course, the first time you’ll see a boy without his shirt on - apart from some of the boys that walk around Camp shirtless in the morning and you don’t think that they actually count - has to be in this weird situation.

As if reading your thoughts, Murphy just smirks, before taking off his shirt. But just when’s almost free of his shirt, he hisses, his face screwing up in pain.

„Let me“, you say, helping him.

For a moment, you just stare at each other breathlessly.

Then, so quietly that you’re not quite sure whether you’ve imagined it, he says: „Thank you.“

You nod, clearing your throat. Not knowing what else to say, you start inspecting his chest, lightly trailing your fingertips over the various scratches and other wounds - trying not to be distracted by his muscles you can feel under your fingertips and his burning gaze.

Murphy hisses again when your fingers brush over a particularly deep wound. „Sorry“, you murmur, leaning in even closer to get a better look at his wound. „This wound needs some stitches, I’m, uh, going to get a needle and some thread.“

You get up and walk over to where all the medical supplies are stored, thankful for this short moment away from Murphy, his intense stare and your confusing thoughts about him.

„Here“, you say, after sitting down in front of Murphy again and hand him the bottle of moonshine you’ve grabbed as well, „you might want to drink this before I get started on those stitches.“

Murphy just nods, taking the bottle of moonshine from you and taking a long, big sip. „Do your worst“, he says, prompting you to roll your eyes.

„Thanks for the vote of confidence“, you murmur, though you can understand why he’d be apprehensive about this. If it were you being in his situation, you’d rather be stitched up by a trained doctor as well, but since you teens are all on your own and Clarke, the only one of you with actual medical training is currently getting some well-deserved sleep, you’re his only option. Unlike Clarke, you haven’t received any actual medical training but you do know how to give stitches - in theory at least - so you hopefully won’t screw this up.

Here goes nothing, you think, getting started on the stitches.

Murphy bites down hard on his lips, though a slight hiss still escapes him.

You cringe, shooting him an apologetic smile before concentrating on his wound again. „Sorry.“

Murphy doesn’t say anything in response, just nods.

You’re both quiet as you continue with the stitches. Then, when you’re almost done, Murphy suddenly says: „I got real sick when I was thirteen … only made it because my dad stole some medicine for me ... course, he got floated for it …“

You swallow, meeting his gaze. You don’t know why he’s suddenly telling you this - you just know that the story he’s about to tell you most likely won’t have a happy ending.

Murphy looks away from you then, laughing bitterly. „My mother … she was never the same after his death … She started drinking. Blamed me for his death. Told me everyday that I’m a worthless good-for-nothing that’s responsible for his father’s death. She died three years after him … and I just-“

He stops talking then, shaking his head.

„Murphy, I-“, you start to say, though you stop as well, not quite knowing what it is that you actually want to say. Murphy suddenly opening up to you is so confusing and his story so heartbreaking, you’re not quite sure what the appropriate words for this situation are, let alone if there even are any.

„Anyway“, Murphy now says, voice tinged with bitterness, „I just - I had all this pai- anger in me and I didn’t know how to handle it, how to let it out. So I set fire to those rooms, got arrested.“

„Murphy …“, you say, your voice hollow, your heart breaking for the broken, angry boy in front of.

He laughs dryly, though the sound has a wheezing quality to it that instantly worries you. „You wanted to know, didn’t you? Wanted to understand why I became such a jerk. Well, there you have it.“

„I do“, you say, putting away the needle and thread and looking at Murphy, meeting his gaze. „I do understand you, Murphy. I still think you’re an opportunistic jerk, but I understand, I really do. I - I know that it’s not worth much, but I am sorry that this happened to you, it’s awful.“

Murphy just shrugs, not saying anything.

But he’s still looking at you and now that you know what to look for, now that you finally understand him better, you see the pain in his expression.

Not just due to the torture. There’s so much more, pain that’s probably been building in him for years and that he turned into sharp, pointed hate and anger, because he didn’t know how to deal with all of his pain.

You want to help him, though you don’t really know how and why. Yes, he is a rude jerk and at Camp he was also somewhat of a bully, but you think that that’s most likely due to him not knowing how to communicate in something that’s not just anger and aggression. But you also believe that there’s more to him - that he’s not just this lonely, broken, rude jerk that that’s probably just a facade he’s hiding behind.

„I understand, Murphy“, you say again, still looking at the storm of emotions in his green-blue eyes. Something shifts in Murphy’s expression then - he’s listening to you and something in his gaze tells you that he believes your words, believes you. „I truly do. But there’s more to life than just pain, anger and aggression.“

With that, you reach out a hand, softly grasping one of his hands with yours. You’re not quite sure why you’re doing it, you just know that you want to be there for Murphy, that you want to help him - and that you want him to understand that you truly mean your words.

Murphy’s arm jerks, as if he wants to rip his hand out of your grasp, but then he grasps your hand, squeezing it lightly. He reaches up with his other hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Just like before, your breath hitches. But this - this is different than before. This time, there’s no venom in Murphy’s gaze, no quiet challenge, no pent-up anger. Just curiosity and something softer that you can’t quite describe.

„I still don’t really get why you’re helping me“, Murphy says, leaning even closer to you. You’re so close that you could count the lashes on his good eye. You feel his breath ghosting over your skin and you shiver in anticipation.

„But I’m glad that I let you.“ With that, he leans in even closer, searching your eyes and whatever he sees in them, must convince him. He presses his lips to yours and you’re so overwhelmed that you don’t know how to react. But just when you feel Murphy starting to pull away, you kiss him back, bringing your free hand up to his neck.

You feel him smirk into the kiss and if you weren’t currently kissing him, you’d definitely roll your eyes at him. As it is, you continue kissing him, though you give his hand a squeeze that’s probably a bit too harsh.

Murphy just smirks again, deepening the kiss and tangling his hand in your hair. You can feel your heart start to beat faster and there’s a curious sensation in your stomach that feels like those butterflies that you’ve read about in books.

You lose yourself in the kiss, in the feeling of Murphy.

Kissing Murphy feels good, though his lips are chapped and dry and he hisses in pain when you overeagerly lean a little too much against him. But still - kissing Murphy feels good.

And even though you’re still confused and you know that one conversation won’t suddenly make him sunshine personified - you like his dry sarcasm way too much for that - you also know that you want more. You want to get to know Murphy, really get to know him, you want to be there for him. And if there are more occasions to kiss him along the way of getting to know him and helping him, then you certainly won’t complain about that.

Murphy gives you one last, bruising kiss, before breaking the kiss, breathlessly leaning his forehead against yours.

„I - Murphy - what …“, you stammer, still too wound up from the kiss.

Murphy smirks. „That was thank you.“

You can’t help but roll your eyes. „I see“, you say dryly.

„For stitching me up … and for not giving up on me“, Murphy adds, his voice serious again.

You smile softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of his eye. „I’ll be sure to stick around then.“

Murphy grins, though there’s a vulnerability to it now that wasn’t there before. „Doesn’t sound too bad …“

„Yeah, it doesn’t“, you agree, before leaning up to kiss him again.

You feel him smiling into the kiss, causing you to smile as well.

Yes, the road ahead is not going to be easy - this is John Murphy, resident sarcastic, rude asshole, after all - but you’re not afraid to walk it with Murphy.

#john murphy x you #john murphy x reader #john murphy imagine #john murphy the 100 #john murphy #the 100 #the 100 imagine #the 100 tv #richard harmon #john mother fucking murphy #the 100 x reader #the 100 x you #maysileewrites

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sunflower-lilac42 · 4 months

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✧ 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 | connor bedard ♔

summary: y/n surprises her boyfriend at his first game where he scores an overtime winner

warnings: surprises

notes: connor! connor! connor! that goal was so amazing last night, my dad and i were lowkey freaking out about it and his post game interview omg. i love him so much. fuck everyone who hates chicgao because no matter what we stay loyal to our teams even if they do all suck. it was nice to take a break from writing fics about songs but I kinda miss it but I think I'm still gonna do a few without songs or at least ones for the nhl x ts. let me know what you guys want to see next!

nhl masterlist | main masterlist

Y/n sat anxiously in her seat, biting her nails and her leg bouncing as she watched the game. This wasn’t the first overtime that Connor had been a part of, it also wasn’t the second. The Hawks had been to overtime 4 times, including tonight, in the whole season, losing only one. Yet, this was the first time she was present for one, well actually any game.

Being at school it was hard to form and support her boyfriend but with the break being here she finally came to watch him. He didn’t know, which made this all the more exciting for her.

Janelle sat next to her, just as anxious as the girl, as Milana cheered for her dad. They watched and moved their eyes simultaneously for three minutes until they stopped in the Hawks’ zone.

Tito skated to center ice before swinging back around and passing the puck to Lukas. Lukas waited patiently until his teammate was near and swiftly passed it to Connor.

Y/n prayed silently as he took the puck, easily skating through guys down the ice, getting close enough on the Jets’ side, shooting it, and making it into the goal.

Janelle and y/n stood up cheering, the younger of the two naturally being more excited. She clapped as everyone surrounded the rookie and she held a smile on her face.

Watching his interview she couldn’t help but tear up a little because just earlier Connor had called her and talked about how he felt he wasn’t contributing much to the team. They had known each other for so long and she always stood by him so being here, knowing that he just proved his own words wrong, felt great to her.

Janelle took her daughter and y/n outside as the girl felt she was suffocating from the number of people that were still in the UC. They waited for their partners to come out, making small talk about how school was going.

They could hear the slight chatter from behind them, turning around to see the team slowly start to file out of the arena. Tito walked out with Murphy and Seth, noticing the two standing there, “They’ll be out soon.”

They both nodded and expressed their gratitude watching them walk off. It wasn’t long before Nick was walking out with Connor, talking about something that was probably hockey-related. Nick looked up and saw his wife and y/n standing there, stopping and nudging the boy, “Hey.”

Connor looked up from his phone looking at his teammate, “What?”

He gestured to his right and Connor looked that way, “Oh my-”

He wasted no time in dropping his bag and running to his girlfriend, easily picking her up and swinging her around. She let out a loud laugh, wrapping her arms around him, hitting him so she could be put down, “Put me down, psycho.”

Connor placed her down and leaned his forehead against her own, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Nick took his family off to the side to let the two teenagers have their moment. Y/n placed her hands on Connor’s cheek, holding his face, “I’m so proud of you.”

Connor blushed and stayed silently, not knowing what to say. She gave him a look, “Connor, come on. Be proud of yourself.”

He nodded, “I am. But I’m also still in shock that you’re here.” She kissed him and he kissed back, “Best believe it Con because I’m here and I’m coming on your roadie with you.”

“No fucking way.”

“Yes way, school is closed for another week so, my family and I decided to fly down to Dallas and then I think my friends and I will go out East with you.” Connor couldn’t stop bouncing on his feet, even pulling away to jump.

Nick and Janelle walked over, Milana following excitedly behind them, “You guys want to go out to celebrate.” Y/n nodded her head enthusiastically and the five of them headed off to go out for dinner.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

#sunny lune writes #connor bedard #connor bedard x reader #cb98 #hockey #nhl #chicago blackhawks #nhl blackhawks

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gonzo-rella · 3 days

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Them | Art Donaldson

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): Art Donaldson x gn!reader (unrequited romantic), Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig (romantic)

Summary: You'll never be them.

Warnings: Angst, unhappy relationship. (Let me know if I need to add any)

Word count: 0.3k

(A/N: I saw Challengers today and… oh boy. This throuple is so fucking compelling, I like depressing shit, and I had a crush on Mike Faist's Connor Murphy when I was a teen, so I figured why not write something to combine my crush, my love of depressing shit and my fascination with this throuple to write a little thing. I thought it'd be a really interesting dynamic to explore. If you'd be interested in seeing more from this idea, let me know, and I'll happily write something! I'm tempted to write an angsty thing where the reader is finally open about the fact that they know about Art's feelings for Tashi and Patrick.)

You’ll never be them.

You’ll never be Tashi Duncan, whose gaze he craves like sunlight. It’s like he searches for his reflection in her eyes- no matter the distance between them- because that’s the only place he wants to exist, or can exist. He gets lost in them. It’s a good job he doesn’t want to leave; he couldn’t if he tried.

You’ll never be Patrick Zweig, whose smile would make his knees buckle were his legs not strong from years of training. His stare can’t stop time quite like Tashi’s, but he’d probably melt if Patrick looked at him for long enough.

Their history is something you’ve pieced together from scraps of anecdotes he’s reluctantly offered up over the time you’ve been together. Each one serves as a bedtime story you can’t help but tell yourself late at night, the ceiling a screen on which to project memories that aren’t yours. Art always faces away from you when you’re in bed together. You used to wonder if he was dreaming of them, or just her, or just him. But, one night, you noticed the moonlight reflected in his eyes, and you realised he was lying awake, too, as tortured by Tashi and Patrick as you.

He can love more than one person at a time. Maybe he loves you, too. But, he doesn’t love you like Tashi, or like Patrick. You know that. He can say those three magic words all he wants. He can kiss you. He can look at you. It all rings hollow when adoration practically radiates off him when he locks eyes with Patrick or Tashi. You recognise it because it’s like the adoration that radiates off you when you look at him.

But, you don’t say anything. Just like how Art doesn’t say anything.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers x reader #challengers #tashi duncan #patrick zweig #x reader #x gn!reader #x gn reader #x gender neutral!reader #x gender neutral reader

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dreaminginpastels · 2 years

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d e a r e v a n h a n s e n m a s t e r l i s t

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

┌────────────────────────────┐

key:

✿ = fluff

➷ = angst

⁂ = hurt/comfort

☽ = alternate universe

♡ = gender neutral reader (they/them pronouns) - default

❀ = female reader (she/her pronouns) - by request

✧ = male reader (he/him pronouns) - by request

└────────────────────────────┘

connor murphy

open your eyes ✿➷⁂❀

connor is finally comfortable to be himself in your relationship when you decide it’s time for him to meet your big family

#connor murphy x reader #connor murphy x fem!reader #connor murphy x you #connor murphy imagine #connor murphy oneshot #connor murphy #connor murphy fanfic #connor murphy fanfiction #dear evan hansen #dear evan hansen x reader #dear evan hansen x fem!reader #dear evan hansen x you #dear evan hansen imagine #dear evan hansen oneshot #dear evan hansen fanfic #dear evan hansen fanfiction #requests open #daniella writes 💫

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wambsgansshoelaces · 5 months

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Turmoil; Chapter 7

Roman Roy x Reader

a/n: catch the easter egg hehe

Word Count: 2.60k

Just one day, you tell yourself. One day to forget about all the bullshit in your life and just enjoy yourself. It is a party in your name, after all.

After some moaning and groaning from Roman, you manage to drag him out of bed and get him ready. You stand, hips touching, as he messes with his cologne and you put in your earrings.

“You know some shit is going to happen today,” he mutters.

“Why would you say that?” you chide. “We should be relaxed. It’s our last night here.”

“Murphy’s Law, Y/N.”

“I didn’t know you were smart enough to know what that is.” He smacks your shoulder lightly. “What? I’m being honest,” you tease, smoothing out the wrinkles in the dress you’d picked out a few days before.

“I’m extremely intelligent, just so you know.”

“Sure, Roman.” You laugh.

“I’m the one who got Connor’s watch. And…,” he says conspiratorially, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “I got someone’s personal bank records.”

“I love it when a man commits federal crimes for me,” you say faux-dreamily, smiling at him.

“Y/N, it’s not illegal, if I, er, found them.”

“We’ll talk about it later. I want a stress-free night.”

“Murphy’s Law,” he repeats. “What can go wrong will go wrong.”

“Is it too much to ask of your father to keep his opinions to himself for one night?” you ask, sighing. You perfect your look in the mirror before stepping away form Roman.

He follows you out the door, his fingers subtly intertwined with yours. He’s warmed up to your touch- not that he’s ever not liked it. Kissing, apparently, is still out of the question. You’d realized when you tried giving him a peck good night before bed the other day.

You can’t even begin to count all the people in attendance tonight. You don’t know most of them, as you’d expected, which makes your job more difficult. You have to make yourself look good- and Logan.

You mill about, doing what Roman refers to as ‘standing there and looking so damn pretty’, watching the crowd. He’d scuttled off in the name of finding desserts, leaving you to yourself and your thoughts. Logan had spared no expense for his son- chandeliers were lit, servers were flitting here and there, tables upon tables of food were laid out.

While your situation is less than ideal, you’re able to appreciate nice things when they come.

You idly sip from your glass, letting your gaze rake over the crowd. Logan is sitting by himself off to a corner, seemingly trying to gather his strength to even get up. You wonder where Marcia is, and you briefly feel a pang of sympathy. Only briefly.

Shiv is more than likely flirting with some random guy, you tell yourself, Kendall probably asleep in a separate room. Connor is entertaining his own circle of guests, in his element. He makes weird flapping motions with his arms, and you’re thankful you weren’t pulled into that conversation. Greg is happily munching on an assortment of treats. You’re delighted he’s gotten a break. He’s a good man; he deserves it.

Your gaze snags on a strangely already-balding young man. Before you’d left for this party, Roman had shown you a headshot of the accountant Connor was working with. He seemed freshly out of college, but both his face and certain records you’re sure you’ll be able to dig up say otherwise. If anything, he was suspicious.

To your dismay, he makes his way over to you. You hope this won’t be a repeat of the charity gala- you don’t think you’ll be able to control yourself this time. This guy has a punchable face, anyway.

“The future Mrs. Roy,” he says heartily. You lazily raise your glass to him. “I’ve been keen to meet you.” He talks like an old man, too. “I’m the one who directed my client to you when his things got stolen at the hotel.”

You straighten slightly. “Were you, now? I thought it just came with our… familial ties.” You flash your engagement ring at him.

“I mean, of course that’d be the natural course of thought. Regardless, I had to make sure he went with the best, and you’re the best.”

You’re certain he’s trying to kiss your ass. The question is why. You fold one of your arms over your torso and regard him. “Who are you, again?”

He straightens his blazer and extends his hand out to the one you currently have holding your glass. Jerkily, he puts it back down by his side and says, “Peirce Thompson. Thompson & Thompson Accounting and Banking.”

“What a firm name,” you say blandly.

“My brother and I started the thing up from our bedroom way back when, and the name’s just stuck.”

“So you’ve been around a while, then?”

“Oh, ages, absolute ages.” He dusts off an imaginary bit of lint from his shoulder. You press your lips together.

“Why haven’t I heard of you, then?” you ask carefully.

“Psh, your type of law and my finance rarely collide,” he says condescendingly. “We’re in two different worlds, sweetheart.”

Trying not to recede into yourself, you give him a strange look. What he’s saying is bullshit- you know your way around economics, and you run your own firm. Clearly, you have a handle on finance. “If you say so.”

As if Connor’s shenanigans couldn’t get more confusing. This accountant banker bitch reeks of fish- both figuratively and literally, unfortunately.

“I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you ever personally taken care of many fraud cases?”

“Depends on the kind of fraud we’re talking about.” You manage to catch Kendall’s eyes over Peirce’s shoulder. You subtly widen and release your eyelids, trying to get him to come over.

“Er, tax fraud.”

”Sure I have. Why do you ask?” You turn your gaze back to his.

“Only wondering. Some issues are arising with… clients.”

“Clients, huh?”

Thankfully, before he can say anything, Kendall claps his hand over Peirce’s shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d be here today,” Kendall says stiffly. “Funny you’d show your face after raking up the interest for my dad by ‘forgetting’ to pay his taxes.” You have to keep yourself from laughing. Kendall continues. “You’ve met my sister? Trying to weasel your way into her finances, too?” He shifts to stand shoulder to shoulder with you. Your heart warms when he refers to you as family.

Peirce grits his teeth. “Lies don’t look good on you, Mr. Roy.”

Kendall snorts before pressing a hand to your back and guiding you away. “Thanks,” you murmur to him as you both slip away.

“He makes me want to rip my hair out. I’ve got you.”

You both make your way to a table, taking seats. You’d been standing for so long your feet were aching. Roman finds you and pulls a chair up right next to yours, and when he sits, he makes sure his leg is touching yours.

Kendall takes note, his eyes flickering from you to Roman. “What happened to ‘I’m going to kill her before I let her near me?’”

You laugh. “You said that?”

“I say lots of things I don’t remember.” Roman pushes a plate piled high with sweets towards you. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got you everything.”

You give his knee a pat. “I appreciate you trying, Roman, but that’s way too much.”

“We’ll all share,” he insists. Kendall smiles, taking the miniature slice of German chocolate cake and setting it on his place.

“My wife catered,” he says simply. “She owns that bakery you like, Y/N. The one always open on the holidays.”

You smile softly at him. You’re happy that he’s happy. You and Roman pig out on the sweets, chattering comfortably until his eyes catch someone as they cross the room.

He somehow manages to smack Kendall’s chest from across the table and stares back into the crowd.

You and Kendall both follow Roman’s gaze. You just barely catch Marcia as she slips out of the main atrium, a man in tow.

Kendall must see something you don’t. “Give me your fucking phone,” he says quickly. Without thinking, you hand it to him and he power walks after her. You and Roman follow, albeit much slower because Kendall already looks crazy.

Kendall’s leagues ahead of you at this point, but he’s slow enough that you and Roman can tail him. You wind through the corridors until the three of you have stopped in an eerily empty hallway. Kendall is peeping into the sitting area that dead-ends the hall, and almost immediately doubles back, seemingly sick. He steels himself, then takes your phone and sticks it through the doorway and starts filming.

Peeking over his shoulder, you wince.

Marcia has a fuck buddy, and it isn’t Logan Roy.

As desperately as you want to get rid of the image of Marcia having sex from your brain, you can’t. It simultaneously makes you want to puke but also, disgustingly, elated that you now have something over her- and by proxy, Logan.

After an excruciating five minutes, the three of you had gone back to the party. You and Roman had danced a bit, and he’d admittedly embarrassed you with his extremely out-of-date moves. Despite it all, you’d found yourself laughing and having more fun than you’d had in ages.

Now, you’re struggling to unzip the back of your dress. Roman’s stooped over the sink, aggressively washing his face.

“Rome, you’re going to rip it off. Calm down,” you manage, tongue between your teeth as you continue to attempt to pull down the zipper.

He pats his face dry with a towel. “I’m being thorough.” Without being asked,he comes over to you and tugs the zipper open. “You should wear that more often.”

“I literally just got it.”

“Yeah. Keep wearing it.” His hands go to sit on your hips, gently rubbing.

“What’s with the affection all of the sudden?” He settles his face into your shoulder as you move to put your hair up. “Not that I’m complaining.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Getting more comfortable,” he says into your skin. “I don’t… I’ve never had a relationship like this. Where we genuinely liked each other.” You stay silent, letting him gather his thoughts. “I’m just scared. But we’ve been over that before.”

”You can always tell me how you’re feeling,” you say softly.

“I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t think I’ll physically be able to handle it.” Roman pulls away from you, padding into the bedroom. You quickly change into your pajamas before following him, slipping under the covers by his side. “I also don’t want to hurt you,” he says quietly.

“What makes you think you’ll hurt me?”

“I don’t exactly have the greatest track record with relationships, do I? Behind all that hoity toity lawyer stuff, you’re so horribly kind. It makes me sick, honestly.” He’s facing you, pain flickering across his face. “People have never really liked me for me, you know? It’s always just for my money, or my brother, or Dad. It’s like… it’s like I’m not even here.”

You take a moment before responding. “I see you. You work hard, Roman. I should express my appreciation more.”

You’re right. Despite your consistent bickering in the beginning, Roman was dedicated to what you were trying to do together. Like clockwork, he’d have paperwork on your desk or news articles sent or even a mug of coffee. Recently, too- he’d helped you confirm Connor was lying, and now he apparently has dirt on his finances- and financier.

“Even though you’re honestly a jerk, I think deep down under all of that clownery you’re a good guy,” you murmur.

“You’re so backhanded,” he complains, reaching across you to pull you into him. His arm wraps around your back, the other sitting on the back of your thigh as he shifts you on top of him. You set your cheek on his chest.

“Really, Roman. I think you’re too hard on yourself.” His fingers trace circles into your skin.

“I don’t even know what I’m talking about.” You catch your eyes drooping as he speaks. “I want to try this. Seriously. Actually.”

“You can,” you murmur back. “We can.”

“I want to start acting like a real couple. I want you to trust me, to feel safe with me.”

You sigh happily as his fingers continue their ministrations. “I already do.”

“That makes you kind of stupid, really.” Roman presses a hesitant kiss to your head. “Like you said, I’m a jerk, and on top of that, I’m vain, self absorbed, wickedly good looking…”

“Oh, shut up.” You laugh lightly into his chest.

He does, for a few moments. “Y/N?”

“Hm?”

He gently takes your chin, tilting it up enough so he can look at you. You can tell he’s fighting with himself in his mind. Shakily, he presses his lips to yours.

It’s a stiff, awkward kiss, and he pulls away quickly.

“Good night, Y/N.”

☾𖤓

The next morning, you’re leaning against the wall, fighting off sleep. Your flight is bright and early, and therefore so are you. Roman insisted to carry all of your luggage out to the car, so you stand in the foyer, avoiding the outside chill of the morning. You and Greg talk about nothing while Kendall stares into his empty coffee cup, Shiv on his other side, teeth chattering.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you- I’ve gotten a few bank statements I want you to take a look at. Don’t worry about them now, though. I don’t want you stressing until we get back. I mean, I don’t want you stressing at all, and I’m just trying to preserve the peace until we get back to the States. I mean- I don’t know what I mean.”

You give his arm an affectionate squeeze, and he rubs the grogginess from his eyes.

Roman shuffles back in, his breath clouding out in front of him before he steps back into the heat. “Santa took a fat shit outside.”

“How poetic,” you mutter in response. “You have such a way with words.”

He waits for the other three to file out of the foyer before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Just for you.”

The flight back is lethargic. Nobody wants to get back to work, least of all you. Roman’s sprawled across your lap, and you idly scratch at his scalp. Kendall sits on your other side, slumped against you with his blanket pulled over his head. Shiv once again sits across from you, her legs once again propped up on the side of your lap Roman isn’t occupying. Greg has a sofa all to himself, his legs sticking off the end as he snores lightly.

Logan, again, had elected to take a different flight. It’s for the better, anyway.

“You think I can hire a hit man without getting arrested?” Shiv asks you nonchalantly.

“I want to see you try.” You give her ankle a pat. “You’ll do great,” you tell her sarcastically. “I’ll be so excited to come see you during prison visiting hours. If you get any.”

“Oh, be quiet. I’d execute it perfectly.”

“I really do hope you’re joking. Do you know how stupid people who hire ‘hit men’ are?” you ask, making air quotes with your free hand.

“What? It’d be fun, I think.”

“Stop thinking, then, Shiv.”

The rest of the long flight goes by slowly. When you step off the stairway and onto the asphalt, you take a breath of the smoke-infused air. It’s disgusting compared to the crisp, Norwegian air. Your nose scrunches.

“Fuckin’ gross…,” Kendall mutters as he gently pushes past you, his face mirroring yours. After everyone goes their separate ways, you and Roman are left to each other in the backseat of the car taking you back to your apartment.

The rest of the day is lazy. You spend it curled together on the couch.

#succession #succession fic #succession hbo #roman roy #wambsgansshoelaces #succession x reader #turmoil #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #roman roy slowburn #I’m back pookies

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snarkii-hedgehog · 11 months

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Just a Little Longer

Pairing: Connor Murphy x reader

Type: one shot

Summary: Y/n didn't realize that calling their boyfriend after a nightmare would save his life.

TW: mentions of death, self harm, and suicidal thoughts

It took me ten minutes to get myself to slow my shaking. I had woken up in a cold sweat, the only bit of my dream I had remembered being Connor's pale face. I reached for the phone, tears still falling down my face, and my hand shaking just enough to not knock my phone out of my hand.

"Con, can you come over?" I whispered into the microphone. I heard him sigh before answering.

"Give me ten minutes," he sounded exhausted, and I almost told him to forget and get some rest, but the click of the hang up button stopped me. Sure enough, ten minutes later Connor Murphy himself was climbing in my window like he had done so many times before.

"What's wrong?" he stuffed his hands in the pocket of his signature black hoodie, stopping only a few feet ahead of me.

"I just," I bit my lip, "I had a bad dream that's all."

"That's all?" he copied me, one of his eyebrows raised.

"You had died and," he tensed visibly, "I just had to see you to prove it wasn't real, I'm sorry for waking you up."

He looked guilty, he sat on the bed next to me and shook his head.

"I wasn't asleep," he confessed, biting his lip he moved to roll up his sleeves, freezing before he could lift them he let his hands drop into his lap.

"Can you stay?" I leaned my head on his shoulder, "just a little longer?"

"Always," he shuffled, laying down under my covers, motioning me to follow suit. I tilted my head, wondering if he was going to take his hoodie off or not. He closed his eyes, knowing my silent question. My eyes watered when I saw them. Little red scars rolling up and down his arm on top of the old white ones.

I knew why he hadn't been sleeping before, and I silently thank whatever god made me call him in time before crawling on top of him. I rested my head on his chest, every part of his body was always warm, except for his hands, which gently rubbed circles in my back as I slowly dozed off again.

#connor murphy x reader #mike faist #connor murphy #evan hansen #dear evan hansen #dear even hansen the musical #dear even hanson #dear evan hansen x reader

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hauntthenarrative · 10 months

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Haunting the Narrative Character Roster

Thank you for your patience while we sorted the submissions, and thank you to everyone who submitted! Here’s the final character roster for our tournament!!

The roster is currently in alphabetical order by character name for your convenience; we haven't made the brackets yet! Please check out this media list first if you want to know the media without potential spoilers, and keep these things in mind going forward!

Ai Hoshino (Oshi no Ko)

Alice (Alice Isn’t Dead)

Altan Trengsin (The Poppy War Trilogy by R. F. Kuang)

Andrey Nokolayewich Bolkonsky (Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812)

August (A3! Act! Addict! Actors!)

Ava Ferin (Just Roll With It: Riptide)

Avator Roku (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Ayano Tateyama (Kagerou Project)

Beatrice Baudelaire (A Series of Unfortunate Events)

Caleb Wittebane (The Owl House)

Carmen (Lobotomy Corporation)

Cassandra “Andi” Brand (Glass Onion)

Chara/The Fallen Human (Undertale)

Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen)

December “Dess” Holiday (Deltarune)

Doug Rattmann (Portal)

Dr. Casper Darling (Control)

Falin Touden (Dungeon Meshi)

Gertrude Robinson (The Magnus Archives)

Godot (Waiting for Godot)

Goto’s Girlfriend (Samurai Flamenco)

Gregory Edgeworth (Ace Attorney)

Hinawa (Mother 3)

Indou Hikaru (The Summer Hikaru Died)

Iphigenia (The Iliad)

Jackie Taylor (Yellowjackets)

Jason Todd/Red Hood (Batman)

Joe Tazuna (Your Turn to Die)

Jordie Rietveld (Six of Crows Duology by Leigh Bardugo)

Junko Enoshima (Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair/Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony)

Kasumi Yoshizawa (Persona 5: Royal)

Kite (Hunter x Hunter)

Klint van Zieks (The Great Ace Attorney)

Lacie Baskerville (Pandora Hearts)

Laura Palmer (Twin Peaks)

Leelathae/Lilyth (Cursed Princess Club)

Lup (The Adventure Zone: Balance)

Maes Hughes (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Mami Tomoe (Puella Magi Madoka Magica)

Mara (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Mari (Omori)

Maria Robotnik (Sonic)

Maric Theirin (Dragon Age)

Martel Yggdrasil (Tales of Symphonia)

Murata Himeko (Honkai Impact 3rd)

Professor Sada/Professor Turo (Pokémon Scarlet & Violet)

Rebecca de Winter (Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier)

Red-Haired Shanks (One Piece)

Renju Okiura (AI: The Somnium Files)

Rose Quartz/Pink Diamond (Steven Universe)

Rose Thorburn Sr. (Pact: Devils and Details, by J. C. McCrae)

Saki Momose (Kamen Rider Ex-Aid)

Shannon Masters (Warrior Nun)

Shen Jiu/Original Shen Qingqiu (The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System)

Sliver of Straw (Rain World)

Summer Rose (RWBY)

Tadashi Hamada (Big Hero 6)

Ted Kord/Blue Beetle (Booster Gold)

The Oldest Dream (Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint)

The Pale King (Hollow Knight)

The Snail (Zero Escape)

Trisha Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist)

White Lily Cookie (Cookie Run: Kingdom)

Zack Fair (Final Fantasy VII)

#haunting the narrative tournament #not polls

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sxtvrns · 1 year

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to reunite and resolve

🎶 now playing: don’t grow up too fast - grentperez

P: Connor Murphy x Fem!Reader

S: You were the one of the only people he called a friend. He wanted to call you more than that.

W: mentions of drug use, smoking, anxiety, cursing, sexual content, spoilers, short

N: Basing this off of Mike Faist’s Connor Murphy, because his version of Connor the one I envisioned while writing this. Some information is taken from the book adaptation of the musical. In the book, Connor explains that he is some form of LGBTQ+, yet it is never specified; hints of this are being used in this fic. this is super short and kinda shit LMAO

please interact if you enjoy!

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When he first threw that printer in second grade, you were the first thing he saw out of the corner of his eye. Everyone… well, almost everyone, looked at him in horror, screams so loud they could be heard from down the hall, besides Jared Kleinman, who said that the whole facade was so cool.

Some kids ran, some kids took cover, but you stood there with your mouth hanging open, gaze switching between Mrs. G and Connor. And to think the only reason for this was because he didn’t get to be line leader that day.

He couldn’t tell what you thought of him after that. There wasn’t a single thought behind your face that could determine whether you thought he was cool or you thought he was insane. But he resorted to the worst— you thinking he was a crazy maniac who had a breakdown only because he didn’t get what he wanted that day.

But no, that wasn’t the case. He sat down under a tree during recess one day, and you just so happened to be lurking on the other side of it. You peeked out, looking at the book he was reading. “Is that The Little Prince?” You ask, startling him. “Yeah. Why?”

“It was a bit sad, but I liked it. Which part are you on?”

“The part where he dies.”

Awkward.

“I’ve read this book 5 times.”

“So it’s your favourite?” He shrugs. “One of them.” You sit down next to him, eyes skimming over the words on the page. “I don’t like Mrs. G very much. She always finds something wrong in my work and points it out to the class,” you start, staring at Mrs. G who’s talking to a teacher far across the playground. “I don’t think you should do it again, but I thought that was cool.”

“What was cool?”

“When you threw that printer. Was it heavy?” He shakes his head. “You’re strong! That’s even cooler!”

He shuts his book with a quiet thump. “Shouldn’t you be talking to Lily over there? Or… Jane?” You shrug. “I don’t really have a group of friends. I talk to them and we’re friendly with each other, but… they don’t like the things I like. I don’t know– it seems like on some days they don’t like me and then other days they do. Maybe I’m just scared of that.”

“You’re lucky the printer didn’t hit Mrs. G. You’re even luckier you didn’t get in big trouble. I think that you were angry and you didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” He’s surprised by how well you manage to read him. He didn’t even know how he felt himself. It was an overwhelming feeling of rage that any six year old would have when things didn’t go their way, just that he approached it in a way that no one would believe a six year old would be able to do.

“Do you wanna see the books I’m reading later? You can borrow them if you’d like.” Connor looks at you and that stupid hopeful expression on your face, reluctantly nodding. He wasn’t one to turn down a read. He’d gotten sick of the rose hunting prince anyways.

Most kids in your class would rather go for the toys and playmat while the library picked up dust. Connor watched you every time you went to the little library in your room to pick up a book, always leaning over to see what you were reading. You seemed like one of the only avid readers in your class, not dozing off or merely flipping pages for convenience during silent reading. You really took your time in absorbing what was on the pages; sometimes he witnessed you even shed a tear.

From there, the two of you became good friends. Every partner project, you two would pair up. Every gym class, you’d be on the same team. If anything involved pairs, it would always be the two of you together, to the point where people started joking that you two were dating. Of course, you always brushed it off, but Connor seemed to think otherwise.

At the time, he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly he felt about you. He felt safe, happy, content. He also felt compassionate, open, and endearing. But years later, only when he went to Hanover and was in his first relationship, dealing with a multitude of emotional troubles, was when he realized what those feelings were.

Connor’s head rested on Miguel’s chest as he exhaled a puff of smoke. “She read a lot, sometimes I went over to her place, she always stayed by my side even thought she was made fun of, we’d trade lunches–“ He’s cut off by the sound of his friend chuckling. “Wow, you must’ve really liked her.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I don’t think I’ve heard any guy in our entire school talk about a girl… not sexually.”

“That’s because we were in elementary. I wasn’t perverted.”

“Still, you blabber about her with such purity. Like a girl you really did love, even if you only were in the seventh grade. She seems nice. If you ever find her again, you should introduce her to me.” In the words that Miguel put it in, he was finally able to understand why he got so much more nervous around you. Why he’d scold himself for doing something moronic in front of you, unless that something made you laugh; he’d let out an internal sigh of relief.

Why he tended to defend you if someone teased you. Why he’d freeze up when your arm would brush against his. Why he’d always overthink about what you thought of him, knowing that you’d never leave his side. Instead, he left yours. He could see the hurt in your eyes after he told you he was moving schools and it almost made him want to stay just for you.

But knowing his parents, they wouldn’t understand why he’d change his mind so last minute.

Sometimes he didn’t understand why you stayed by his side. He knew you were somewhat of a fragile person, but watched you desensitize to those comments over the years.

Connor feels guilty talking about an old undetermined crush with a boy he was on indefinite terms with, but Miguel didn’t seem to mind. “I guess I did like her.” He squeezes Miguel’s hand, suddenly overwhelmed with disappointment. “And now I’ll never be able to see her again.”

“Didn’t you say you went to her place for projects and stuff? Couldn’t you pay her a visit?”

“What if she moved?”

Miguel scoffs. “Highly doubt it. What comes here, stays here.”

The suggestion played on loop in Connor’s head every day, even contemplating actually paying a visit. Yet he never owned up to it, until he was expelled and moved to a new school. Again.

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You rest your head on the desk, ignoring the homework reminders being given to the class. You stare blankly at the teacher through your hair, another boy coming into view that you hadn’t seen before.

His hair was brown, curly, and nearly reached his shoulders. He had defining cheekbones and painted nails, dark clothes and a messenger bag. A new student. A new student that you couldn’t help but think looked familiar to you, until you heard his name.

Connor Murphy.

He sat down in front of you, putting his bag to the side and kicking it under his desk. You wanted to talk to him, but it seemed like he didn’t recognize you either. Was it really him? The Connor Murphy who you sat under trees with, reading books and arguing about your favourite characters? The Connor Murphy who barely passed 4th grade?

“Connor…” You mutter a bit too loud, his head turned to side eye you. “What?” He replies, almost aggressively, his stare dark and hardening. You couldn’t believe it was him. But really, how many other Connor Murphy’s could there be in suburban New York?

He begins to turn away until you begin speaking. “Do you still read The Little Prince?” This time, he fully turns to you, eyes wide and no longer dull. “How many times have you read it since I’ve talked to you under that tree?” You smile, and Connor swears his heart stops. Out of pure shock, not attraction.

“Y/N?” He asks, and you nod, his face lighting up with a small smile. “Holy shit…” He sighs, his reaction making you giggle.

You’ve changed. You stopped tying your hair up, you gained a pair of dark circles, and he could just feel maturity radiating from you somehow. At least, you were more mature than he was.

“Um, I don’t really have anyone to hang out with during lunch. Do you wanna catch up then?” You offer, his head tilting. “Why not now? Instead of working on that project of yours.” Your face drops. “There’s a project?” What project was he talking about? Was it– oh, it was the role model one. You finished it already.

“Lucky you don’t have to do it. If we present, we get extra credit. I’m not up for humiliation though.” He turns around fully, and your eyes are drawn to his hands, slim and a bit veiny. He adorned a bracelet and his nail polish was black. He played with his fingers almost nervously, his hands on your desk. “What have you been up to?”

“I picked up guitar. Um, I do some vocal stuff outside of school.”

“Like performances?”

You nod. “Different genres. Jazz, pop, R&B… I’m in a few groups.” He nods. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

“I never showed off when we were younger. I’ve been taking lessons for a while.”

“Maybe you could show me later. Y’know, outside of school.” He quips with a hoping smile. “Are you flirting with me, Murphy?” You ask, leaning forward slightly, his eyes moving from your chest back to your eyes. “Maybe.” You scoff, shoving away his face. “You’re a pervert now?” You laugh, but his smile slowly begins to disappear.

“Oh, I was joking, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that– I mean, no one’s perverted to their childhood best friend right?” You awkwardly laugh while he sighs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to look at you like that.”

“Like what?”

“Y/N, I was staring at your boobs.”

“Like a pervert?”

“For fuck’s sake, L/N, I am not a pervert.”

“Never said you were.”

You were provoking him. If it was another person doing the same thing, he’d have their head. Thrown something at them or given them a black eye. With you, it was all natural humour and jokes. He could brush it off without the need for bruising. The worst part was that you didn’t know you were aggravating him, with your cheeky smile and mischievous gaze.

Later that day, during lunch, you catch Connor off guard, leaning against a tree in the back of the school grounds where no one was, blowing out smoke. He tended to find solace in places where it was quiet and mostly alone. In high school, it was hard to find that kind of privacy, so you thought he’d be away and in the back where no one hung out, besides the drug dealers and porn magazine sellers.

“You smoke now?” You ask, him inhaling and letting out another puff. “I started a while ago. Keeps me sane.” He pulls it away from his mouth, contemplating. “I was gonna offer you some but, you sing now. I guess that comes in conflict.” How sweet of him to be so considerate. “Yeah. Wouldn’t wanna try it either way.”

You pause for a moment, watching him discard the joint. “How was Hanover?” You ask, a rush of memories overwhelming him all at once. “It was a fresh start. I liked it. I, um, made out with a dude? I don’t know, it was complicated.” You certainly didn’t expect that. “You had a boyfriend, then?”

“I dunno, we never specified on it. Complicated relationship.”

“How about girlfriends?” You hear him scoff. “You really think a guy that went to an all boys school would find a girlfriend?” You shrug, standing beside him. “I thought it was common for all boys and all girls schools to collaborate or host events together.”

“I don’t know if there were any collaborating events. I always skipped. Speaking of skipping, would you like to join me on a trip to Burger King instead of going to fifth and sixth?” You shouldn’t be surprised he’s skipping classes. He always joked about doing so in elementary, yet it never crossed your mind to contemplate if he was actually going to do so. “Unlike you, I actually care about my grades. You can come over if you’d like.”

“After years you still expect me to know the address?” He jokes. “I haven’t moved. I’ll text you.” You pull out your phone, opening your contacts app and letting him type in his number. He set his contact name as ‘C’, with a cigarette emoji next to it. “If you ever call me and that name pops up on my phone while I’m with my dad, he is going to kill me. Thinking I have a dealer or something.”

“Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

You text him the address, not seeing him for the rest of the school day. He frequently skipped classes, except for the classes you two had together. He came over many times, your dad eventually meeting him when he wasn’t rushing out the door for work.

Only… one particular visit caused something to happen with reasons unknown.

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You open the window, lighting some scented candles you found in the closet. Connor looked at his joint, inspecting it carefully, instead tossing it somewhere in his bag rather than lighting it, laying face up on your bed with a sigh.

The first time he was in your room, the first thing he asked was:

“Why the fuck is there sheet music everywhere?”

Which surprised you at first, mostly because you didn’t think he’d know what it was in the first place. He’d always smoke, mostly out the window, and you’d drench your room in air freshener afterwards so your dad wouldn’t know.

Connor was a very touchy person, especially when he was high. Sometimes he’d rest his head on your shoulder, his breath smelling of weed. Or on your lap, where his hair sometimes got trapped between your thighs. A hand on your leg, or on your thigh. You didn’t think of it at first, because it was Connor.

Though he took touchy to an extreme one day.

“Have you kissed anyone yet? Y’know, while I haven’t seen you.” You look up at him from your paper, amused. “Why are you asking?” He shakes his head, turning over and looking at you. “Oh, no, just wondering. So is that a no?” You sigh with a silent laugh. “No, I haven’t kissed anyone, Connor.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“So you’re a virgin, then?”

“Connor, where is this coming from?”

“Do you know about the jocks constantly rambling about all the girls they have sex with?” He ignores your question with another question. “Yeah. It’s fucking annoying.” You scoff with a breathy laugh, taking a sip from your bottle. “You know they talk about you, right?”

You nearly spit out your water, saving the drops that fall from your mouth from falling onto your shorts. “Excuse me?” You say after swallowing. “Yeah. It’s all, ‘Bet 10 bucks I can bang her’ while they point at you. Or they go, ‘Jesus, wonder how much she can take’.”

“So I’m being objectified?” He nods slowly, looking up at you through his messy hair. “Unfortunately, yes. Want me to do something?”

“If it results in you getting suspended, no.”

“You sure? Those guys are dicks.”

“They’ll never believe us without any proof. And your reputation is bad enough already. I don’t want you to fall any more because of me.”

“Y/N, I’ll do anything for you.”

Those words make you pause and reflect. Was he high? No, because he tossed his joint in his bag anywhere. Even then, Connor would never say that for anyone. It seemed so out of character for him that you almost laughed.

“Are you high?”

“What?”

“I know damn well you wouldn’t do anything for anyone.”

“Y/N, I’m serious.” His gaze is stern, dark, and hard but also eager, glossy and hopeful. “I don’t know, maybe it is the weed I smoked twelve hours ago, but you’re really pretty. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to become friends with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone so pretty that doesn’t give a fuck about the fact I do drugs or the shit I’m dealing with. I really like you, Y/N. Always have. You didn’t single me out, you never left my side— you’re the one person in my fucked up life that makes me feel like I belong. That I matter.” Your childhood best friend, who’s now sitting up with a hand on your thigh, just confessed his undying love to you.

And you had to admit, the more you two started to hang out and reconnect, the more you started to develop something of an attraction to him. He never smiled at anyone but you, he didn’t push you away or glare at you; it was like he had a soft spot just for you, and it made you like him even more.

“I hope you aren’t gonna fuck me over. Y’know, if you don’t like me back.” His finger traces patterns on your thigh, the way his hand unknowingly rides up making your brain go haywire. “I’m… I, uh– I’m not.” He looks at you, for some reason, disappointed. “Should’ve known you didn’t. Forget this ever happened, then.”

“No, no! I like you! I really do like you, Connor. You’re charming and handsome and…” You hear him huff out a laugh, his face closing in on yours. “I know no one else thinks of me like that but you. You’re obsessed with me.”

“Could say the same for you, Murphy.”

His head tilts, his nose touching yours. “Wanna kiss you.” He mutters. You simply nod, inviting. “Okay.” You reply. He presses his lips to yours, feeling full and complete the moment you two meet. He can sense your confusion at first, but you managed to learn how to move with him quickly. Perks of being a fast learner.

He hovers on top of you on your bed, admiring you when he pulls away. His eyes shamelessly trail down from your face, to your chest, your stomach, your legs, his face cupped in your hands and pulling him towards you to kiss him again.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, the mood instantly erotic.

His hands are all over you. The back of your head, your shoulders, your waist, your hips, your thighs; he placed them wherever he could push you closer to him. When his mouth follows his hands to descend to your neck, you let out a soft whimper, panicking when you barely catch sight of the door.

“W-Wait.” You pant, nudging Connor for him to move to the side. You scramble off your bed, closing the window and the curtain and turning off the lights, going for the doorknob. “Thought you said your dad wasn’t home.” Connor says as you lock the door. “Never know when he will be.”

When you join him on the bed, his hands at the hem of your shirt, you stop him with a touch on his wrist. “Um, I don’t…”

“Oh, shit, did I go too far? I’m sorry–“

“No, no! I want it, I really do, but… you know...” He realized how nervous you were, remembering you haven’t done anything like this before. He gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You know I have. You trust me?” He asks, giving you doe eyes you’ve never seen before. You nod, emitting a chuckle from him. “Let me take care of you then.”

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Sex was one thing. Having sex with your best friend is another.

It’s either your dad stayed at work all night or he’s in grave danger, given you haven’t heard him scream out of pure horror, then yell at you first thing in the morning. You woke up unbothered, naked, and held by your best friend. Unless this whole thing changed your relationship.

Were you even friends anymore? Was this a friends with benefits thing now? But he practically confessed to you yesterday, unless he was high. But he didn’t smoke anything, and the room doesn’t smell that bad…

One thing is for sure: Connor Murphy knows how to fuck.

Maybe it was the fact that you were a complete virgin or that you did whatever he asked you to, but you swear you could still feel how you felt last night when he was in you.

Your head rests on his arm, wrapping around you and holding you close to him. The ends of his hair touch your own head, and you blow them out of the way. You can feel him move, and he groans, meaning you woke him up. You lean into him more, feeling his fingers lightly brush your side. You feel his head turn, his hair moving from your head.

“Hi.” He says, peering down at you. You look up at him, noticing his gaze. “Hi.”

He plants a kiss on your forehead, his fingers moving to brush through your hair. “I think I passed out after.” You say, hearing him chuckle. “You did. When I came back to clean up, you were nearly snoring.”

“Oh god, I snore?”

“Loudly.”

He notices you going silent, immediately worried. “I was just joking! Well, kind of, you snore, but not loudly. Not like a dad snore.” You giggle into the side of his arm, followed by a brief moment of silence. “What are we now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think friends confess their undying love for each other and tie it off with sex.”

He pauses, hearing quiet hums come from his mouth. “Can I be your boyfriend, then?” He feels you nod against his arm while you hum in response. “Yeah.” You get out from under the covers, going to stand up until a brief pain shoots up your legs.

Memories of the night before suddenly come rushing in. “Fuck those jocks, I’m the only one who can see you like this.” He said, after making a mess of you with only his fingers.

He really fucked you good last night.

You curse under your breath, legs weak as you stare at the scattered clothes on the ground, tossing your own into the laundry basket by your door. You grab a new change, turning around and noticing Connor staring at you the whole time, an expression you can’t make out.

“I was that good? Your legs are shaking.” You roll your eyes and throw his shirt at him after putting on a pair of shorts. “Shut up. A real boyfriend would help me and not make fun of me.” He fake pouts, getting out of bed and putting on his own clothes.

You turn on the TV downstairs, the morning news playing and showing the date as Friday.

Friday.

Shit.

You’re beyond late.

“Turns out there was a gas leak so there’s no school. That works out great for us.” Connor says as if he could read your mind. You hear the garage door open, meaning your dad had just come home from work. He enters the room, seeing both of you standing by the kitchen counter.

“Shouldn’t you two be at school?” Is the first thing your dad says, eyeing both of you. “Cancelled. Gas leak.” You feel Connor’s hand rest at your hip, wanting to swat it away but knowing your dad already saw it just by the look on his face. “Did he use protection? I know you’re on those pills, but–“

“Oh my god, yes, he did, look– can we talk about this later?” Your dad shrugs and nods before heading for the stairs, hearing Connor laugh beside you. “How did he know?” You panic, placing toast on both your plates. “Maybe he saw your legs shaking from there.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

You glare at him, giving him a brief kiss before bringing both your plates to the table. He quite literally does as you say, keeping quiet the entire time he eats his breakfast.

You should do that more often.

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You knew that Connor was a very mischievous person. He always has been.

He’d skip classes, casually threaten people as if it were nothing, smoke weed; he nearly flushed firecrackers down a toilet once. He didn’t go through with it because you told him not to.

He was also mischievous in terms of your relationship.

He let you leave hickeys wherever you saw fit, in places visible and invisible. You were more wary of it. He showed them off proudly; well, not really proudly, he just didn’t mind if people saw or stared at him with hanging jaws. He couldn’t be bothered to cover them— the only time he did care was when his family would point them out.

He’d sneak out and go to your place frequently; he always preferred your house over his, mostly because he felt like he had a parent he could actually tolerate (and love). If your dad were to ever barge in, he’d stare at Connor, then at you, then at Connor’s bag, and ask if he had protection before leaving and closing the door. Connor always said yes.

It was also a convenient reminder for you to lock your door anytime Connor was in your room, since most of the time nights would always end in sex.

You fumbled for your keys to unlock the front door, Connor’s lips on yours when you stumbled inside. You didn’t notice a bunch of men in the living room, including your dad, holding beer bottles and staring at you until you saw them out of the corner of your eye. “Welcome back. How was the party?” Your dad asks, as if he didn’t see the escapade between you and your boyfriend.

“It was shhh– It sucked. Yeah. It sucked. Hi.” You mutter the last part, eyes quickly dashing over everyone who’s attention is taken away from the game on the TV. “Um, we’re just gonna… yeah.” You drag Connor with you out of their sight and upstairs.

“Does he have–“

“Yes!”

You slam your door shut, locking it, seeing Connor visibly nervous. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Was the party too much?”

“A little bit. And then… your dad’s friends just staring at us. I don’t know– anxiety? This is a stupid thing to be worried about.” You sit down next to him, hugging him while rubbing his back. “Don’t worry about them, okay? They’ve probably done the same when they were younger.”

You feel him sigh into your shoulder, his voice muffled.

“Thank you.”

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don’t grow up too fast. don’t leave me in the past. as long as you never change who you are, i know in your heart i’m never far. 🎧

#connor murphy #connor murphy x reader #dear evan hansen #dear evan hansen musical #mike faist #fanfiction

292 notes · View notes

littlegodzilla · 1 year

Note

Could you write Murphy with a nurse at the prison after the 2nd movie? I think he would be a big flirt.

Hi anon!!

Sorry for making you wait, here I come with your request!

Hope you'll like it!

Enjoy!

*************

The Prisoner and the Nurse.

Murphy Macmanus x Nurse!Reader.

One shot. Anon Request.

Warnings: fluff and flirting. Murphy being cute.

Words: 1900.

*************

The sun is barely rising over the horizon when you park the car in your area. All is quiet, not even the birds seem to have woken up, you give your coffee the last treat to try to engage your brain and sigh turning off the car engine. Your gaze drifts forward, metal fences and a huge concrete building, rough and barely windowed welcomes you. You sigh heavily, you don't hate your job, you like it, you became a nurse to help others, but sometimes, days are hard.

When you are totally convinced that you should start the day, you get out of the car taking your personal things plus a box with new material, the prison works with Boston Central Hospital, they are the ones who supply you with drugs and clinical material when you run out, but the other day you stopped by their office to sign some reports and you took the opportunity to take some things yourself, the rest they would bring with a delivery van, as usual.

As you walk down the corridor outside, the security guards greet you and say good morning as they do every morning. You wave with a smile and enter the rough building, greeting more of your colleagues inside.

"Good morning." You say signing the sign-in sheet as you do every morning. "How was your night?"

"Quiet, there was a little commotion at dinner time, but it stopped quickly."

"Good, that means I'll have a quiet morning." You say with relief, but you see the policeman smile. "What?"

You open the security door to the infirmary and then close it behind you, it's a direct access from the entrance area where prisoners can't get in, it's always locked and guarded to prevent escapes. You leave your things on your desk and put on your work clothes. You take the box you have brought with you and look over to the area where you have the stretchers. You roll your eyes as you discover one of the prisoners there. He's sitting on the edge of one of the gurneys, waiting impatiently by the way he's moving his legs.

"What was it this time, Murphy?" you say, setting the box down on another empty gurney.

Murphy MacManus is one of the newest inmates to arrive at the prison along with his brother Connor, the twins have life sentences without the possibility of parole or reduced sentences for killing a few people. None of them were good people, but justice says murder is forbidden, no matter how many corrupt pigs you take down, so there he is. In the time he's been there, his brother Connor is calmer and more level-headed, but Murphy, hyperactive by nature, gets into more trouble and spends more time than you'd expect in your clinic, it's common to find him sleeping there when you showed up in the morning or in the middle of the day to be escorted there by the police with a face full of blood and red knuckles.

"Don't worry, lass, ya'll see the other one." He always joked, though it was never funny.

"Morning, love, ya look beautiful in the morning." He compliments you and you feel your cheeks redden.

He does that a lot too, compliments and compliments are the order of the day when he visits you. It doesn't get uncomfortable because he doesn't go overboard with them, he just does it to see your reaction and when he finds out what you're uncomfortable, he stops. Murphy has learned to read you from day one, he is observant and easily absorbs the information people offer him, even if they don't realize it.

"I just woke up, we both know that's a lie." You reply and he lets out a chuckle, shrugging his shoulders. "Okay, where's the fire?"

"There isn't any, I've been a good boy and I haven't fought with anyone." He says puffing out his chest with pride.

"Then what are you doing here?" You look at him raising an eyebrow. Murphy looks at you with intensity, stops shaking his legs and chews his lip nervously. You feel a shiver run through you and try to ignore it.

"I was just coming in for my usual checkup."

"Your checkup was last week, Murphy." You remind him.

"I know, I'm here for the results."

"Don't you think we would have let you know if there were any abnormalities?" you insist, but he shrugs without moving from his seat.

"Maybe I've come for something else." He insists and you look at him sideways.

"For God's sake, I'm gonna throw up." You hear a male voice on the other side of the curtain, on another of the gurneys.

"Shut up!" Murphy barks.

"Connor?" Surprised, you peek over, Murphy's twin is lying there, he does have a swollen cheekbone and a split lip, not to mention a bandaged hand. "But... What happened?" You look at him worriedly approaching him.

"It was nothing, lass, some guy got really annoying yesterday and I politely explained him to shut up." Connor comments, sitting up a little on the gurney as you examine him closely.

"So where's the other one?"

"They took him to the hospital."

"Connor!" You look at him, eyes widening.

"It was just some broken ribs!" He defends himself. "But the guy wouldn't stop crying and they had to take him away."

"For God's sake..." You snort in frustration. "Is it every day you guys have to hit someone?"

"It's not our fault, love, they just don't have any manners." Murphy explains.

"Yeah, of course..." You laugh softly shaking your head. "Does it hurt?" you look at Connor massaging his wrist gently.

"It was just a bad gesture, I'm fine." He nods, you hum and change his bandage tightening it a little more.

"Is it okay?" You look at him.

"Perfect, thanks... you can keep flirting with my brother, I'm gonna sleep some more." He tells you mischievously.

"I don't..." You stammer, but Connor looks at you with a smirk and you punch him in the arm. "Shut up." You mutter leaving him on the gurney, returning to your desk where you've left the box with the new stuff.

You know it's not right, that you shouldn't feel so comfortable with them, but they are not bad people, you have fun with their jokes and their company, it's funny sometimes you feel safer with them than with the guards when you are with another prisoner. Still you're aware that you can't have that trust and affinity with them, they're prisoners, they've killed people, that should scare you and keep you on your toes, so Connor hinting that Murphy is flirting with you should bother you more than make your stomach fill with butterflies.

"Do you want me to help you?" Murphy asks you, close behind you.

"Thanks, Murphy, but no need." You smile kindly at him, opening the box and peering inside.

He looks at you a little disappointed by your refusal, bites his lip and steps back a little, so as not to disturb you, putting his hands in the pockets of the orange jumpsuit. You sigh and look at him, it's like you left a puppy abandoned on the street in the middle of a storm.

"Okay, I'll tell you what's there, the quantity and you mark it on the delivery note." You tell him pointing to the paper. "Okay?"

"Sure! We make a great team, you'll see."

Connor on his gurney, rolls his eyes rolling over trying to get some more sleep. All the inmates there have tasks and duties throughout the day, always imposed by the warden or the guards, but they always seem to do as they please. You read the names of the medicines and utensils you have brought with you, Murphy at your side hums for you to continue as he makes marks on the paper you have given him, verifying the contents and the exact amount. Some things are missing and others you've been given more than you asked for, but that's okay, you know you won't have to make a long list for the next order and if you have an emergency, you'll have plenty of supplies to spare.

"Thank you, Murphy, you've helped me a lot." You tell him sincerely, he smiles happy to be of help, like a puppy when he learns a new trick and gets a treat for it. You laugh softly and stretch to place the new boxes of bandages on their corresponding shelf.

"Wait, lass, let me help you." He moves quickly and stands behind you.

Taller than you, he reaches for the box without much trouble, your hands touching, his fingers brushing your skin to remove the box and put it back in place. You freeze, his body pressing yours against the table, you feel his chest pressed against your back, the warmth of his skin transmitting to yours, his heavy breathing brushing against your ear, giving you goose bumps. Your heart starts pounding as you hold your breath, but you don't say or do anything, you let him slowly pull away and when he does, his fingers run over your head and down your side, an unnecessary touch, of course, but the butterflies inside your stomach don't let you think straight. You turn slowly, his body still very close to yours, you look sideways at him discovering a shy smile on his mouth, but his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Murphy..."

"Is everything all right here?" The warden's voice pulls you out of your reverie and you quickly push the prisoner away from you. "Nurse... Are these guys giving you trouble again?"

"No, no, Connor had an accident yesterday at dinner time, sir and I was giving him a check up." You explain quickly trying to regain your composure.

"Ya, I heard about his "accident" as usual causing trouble... And his brother? He looks pretty healthy to me."

"Murphy was helping me with the inventory." You say sincerely. "I brought some stuff and medication that was running low and he helped me set it all up."

"An inmate with access to medication and sharps? I don't think so, miss, you should be more careful." He reproaches you and you lower your gaze, embarrassed. "You were recommended for this job because you were professional and above all smart, don't make me regret my decision." He warns you. "Never trust them, they are here for serious crimes, you never know when they might act again and you are vulnerable... you would be their first target." He makes you understand and you nod your head.

"Of course sir, I apologize, it won't happen again..." You assure him by nodding your head.

"Alright boys, take the MacManus brothers back to their cells, they have outdoor yard duty today and their mates have already started."

"But sir, Connor MacManus has an injured wrist..."

"Well, he has the other hand." He shrugs and you open your mouth to protest again.

"Don't worry, lass, it doesn't hurt, we can work." You're cut off by Connor getting off the gurney. "Thank you for your care, come on Murph."

The two brothers are handcuffed by the guards to be escorted to their cell to get their things and get to work with the rest of their ward mates. Murphy looks at you one last time, his face has darkened a bit, he seems annoyed that you have been interrupted, still he gives you a soft smile by way of farewell. You look away, wanting to ignore him. The director is right, they are dangerous people, you can't let those sweet, kind eyes soften you.

You know it's not right, but you still can't control the butterflies in your stomach.

The End.

Hope you liked it!

See you in the next stories!

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