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drowning-in-daiya · 4 years

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K so I’m absolutely Weak for William and there’s an insane lack of written content for him and the Black Clover fandom as a whole. So I’ve decided to grace the internet with my absolute shit writing for the first time in 5 years for some crap attempts at fluff. These were originally written with an OC (who has 20 whole pages of profile wow I need to stop) but I’ve made it into a reader insert the best I could. I kept the third person pronouns though just because I’m lazy and tired sorry I personally don’t enjoy reading that myself but again laziness wins. There are most definitely typos and I apologize in advance but I hope fellow fans enjoy these entirely self-indulgent piece! If anyone can even find this rip also tumblr formatting is a pain and i was in physical pain editing this

Note: (s/e/c) stands for secondary eye color. Sorry again if it doesn’t fit how you’re reading it :(

Another note: because this was based on an oc, there are some details (not many, like two I think) that are specific to her and don’t take into account different skin tones or eye color. Again I apologize for leaving them in, but I loved the flow the sentences and couldn’t really find a way that sounded just as good to me. If I ever write more, I’ll try to be more considerate with details like this.

(William x reader)

Fluff

Word count: 1,555

Warnings: None

Shoulder Pillow

A time before either realizes their feelings; or when (y/n) falls asleep on William’s shoulder (Takes place a few months into the two turning seventeen)

“William.”

“Yes, (y/n)?” He smiles slightly but doesn’t lift his eyes from the book in his hands. He knows that tone; slightly pitchy with the end syllable drawn out. His suspicion is confirmed when she throws her head back and sighs.

“I’m bored.” Keeping her head back she slants her eyes towards his figure, taking in his relaxed form, the way one hand is lightly gripping one edge of the book while the other cradles the spine. She notices the small smile on his face when her eyes flicker up and lightly huffs. His smile grows slightly when he finally looks up to see the pout curving her lips downward.

“Do you want to do something else?” he asks. Her eyes find his again; (e/c) with bits of (s/e/c) speckled at the bottom meeting bright purple. He notes how much darker they are now in the back of his mind, deciding he would ask later if everything is alright.

She’s torn and doesn’t answer for a minute. While reading is fun and William’s presence provides a warm comfort she hasn’t felt in some time, it’s getting hard to focus and she’s getting antsy. It doesn’t help that she’s running on about two hours of sleep won after a hard battle against her insomnia and nightmares. He follows his first question with another before she can land on an answer.

“Would you like me to read to you? I can start over if you want.”

Badump.

Ignoring the swell in her chest (because honestly she can’t spare enough energy to think about what that could mean) she nods and scoots closer on the couch to look on with him as he flips to the first page. His voice is even and more soothing than usual, and within minutes she feels her eyelids drooping.

When was the last time someone read to me like this? Maybe three- no… four years ago? Ahh his voice is so nice.

Her head dips forward slightly and she jerks back, widening her eyes and staring intently at the words. William spares a quick glance but keeps reading, another smile beginning to spread across his face when he feels her breaths start to even out again. He doesn’t expect to feel the weight of her head or smell the citrus scent of her shampoo a few minutes later and cuts off midsentence. A warm blush is already darkening his cheeks under the mask, so when he looks down and sees her relaxed face smooshed against his shoulder, mouth slightly open with light snores escaping, his heart skips several beats. He stares a few seconds more, memorizing the way her lashes cast shadows across her cheeks and the steady rise and fall of her chest, before going back to reading out loud.

He’s just reached page 20 when she wakes up, just slightly refreshed but with an odd ache in her neck. It takes a few seconds for her groggy mind to take in exactly what her face is pressing against, and a few more seconds to properly react. Apologies begin to pour out in a jumbled mess; her eyes are bouncing anywhere but his face (completely missing his grin), freezing only once she catches sight of the dark spot on his shoulder. Impossibly more heat rushes through her body as she begins apologizing for not only using his shoulder as a pillow but drooling on him on top of that.

He lets her carry on till she can find nothing else to beg forgiveness for; in the lull during which she tries to catch her breath, he places his hand on her head, ruffling her hair a bit before saying: “It’s fine. You were tired right?”

It takes a few seconds for the question to register, but she nods her head once it does and raises her eyes to his. She takes in the smile, heart skipping another beat (seriously what is wrong with me today??), relief washing through her that he’s not looking at her in disgust. They both sit like that seemingly frozen in that position for another five seconds before he takes his hand away. She can’t see it, but another blush is spreading across his cheeks at the realization that he held his hand there for too long trying to imitate her comforting habit. They continue to stare at each other awkwardly, neither knowing what to say now, until the clock in the common area rings out.

She stands abruptly, quickly spouting off an excuse that she’ll be late for a meeting with so-and-so and that she’d better head off now.

“I can read to you again whenever you’re tired, (y/n). I didn’t mind being your pillow for the afternoon,” he calls out when the door’s halfway closed behind her. It slams shut before she can respond, not that she could have with the way her mind and heart were racing at the unusual and rather brazen comment from her fellow knight.

Ahh seriously what is this?!?

When He Knew

Seeing William without his mask for the first time; or when William realizes he likes you (Two weeks after the shoulder pillow incident)

“He’s late.”

“Yeah, no shit genius. He’s probably on his way right now.” The other knight throws a glare before going back to staring out the window. The foot tapping grew old five seconds after he started, but now the attitude directed towards William is giving you a new reason to dread the two-day mission. It’d be a lie if you said you weren’t worried, though. In the three years you’d known him, William was never late, instead almost always showing up a few minutes early. This realization causes you to think of the worst possibilities, ignoring the more probable answer that he had overslept or gotten wrapped up in something else.

Dead. He’s definitely gotta be dead. Or maybe he caught something and is laying helpless in bed? Or did intruders somehow manage to sneak in and now he’s all tied up and- Taking a deep breath to calm down, you decide to give him another five minutes before heading over to check on him. A minute passes in silence and you’re pushing off the wall, mumbling incoherently something about going to fetch him. A tiny part of your brain is still somewhat rational and begs the other parts to slow down and think for a second.

But I am thinking and I think he’s got to be dead or near death since he’s more than twenty minutes late! You reach his room in record speed and hesitate for a second. Should I at least knock? If he’s dead he won’t hear it; but even if he’s alive he may be unable to answer back. A thud sounds from the other side of the door and your brain switches to automatic.

Eyes are already scanning for threats or a slumped body when the door slams open; instead of either, though, they catch sight of a frozen, maskless William staring back at you, half in horror, half in fright. It feels like hours tick by as you two stare at each other; You glance over every part of his face, vaguely taking in the scar that spans the top half, but more enthralled by all of the emotion you can see now. His eyes are even more enchanting fully visible (are they even brighter than before?? No no no... probably not…but maybe?); his nose that was already the cutest form of elegance you’ve ever seen fits perfectly with the rest of his face. And the hair it’s-

It’s only five seconds of intense staring as you try to memorize the pure beauty that is bare faced William before snapping out of it and offering your excuse. “I thought you were dead and came to check on you.” Straight faced, eyes locked on his, said with total seriousness.

He can’t tell if he wants to laugh or cry, and if he does cry if it’ll be from embarrassment or joy. There’s no change in how you’re looking at him, the tone of voice you’re speaking to him in. Brutally honest (y/n) who never fails to let others know how you feel no matter how it might hurt the other person. The girl who told him his mask was tacky and he could do better upon their second meeting. The one who almost got into a fistfight with another knight that made an offhanded remark about the same mask. (y/n)! His heart is still racing for a completely different reason now. All the pieces are linking together and he knows. The stuttering heart, breathless laughs, warm and tingly feeling throughout his body; it all makes sense because some part of him knew all along. You’re rambling speaking again, red painting your cheeks (adorable he thinks), but he doesn’t hear any of it. He’s still staring when you finally stop; one heartbeat…two heartbeats…you turn on your heel on the third and shout out another apology (this one he hears) for the intrusion, and tell him to hurry up or you’d leave him behind. His body relaxes once the door closes and he stares at the mask in his hands. He briefly wonders what kind of expression you saw on his face, why you looked so flustered (it definitely wasn’t because she’s attracted to me that’s for sure), and most importantly, how he’ll act around you now that he knows he’s in love.

#black clover #black clover scenarios #william vangeance #black clover imagine #reader x william #black clover x reader #my writing

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hannahindie · 7 years

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Unwell

Characters: Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Dean Winchester, Reader Word Count: 3,581 Warnings: Sleep deprivation, hallucinations, mention of past sexual abuse, a somewhat squicky (but not detailed) insinuation of smut adjacent, Lucifer being a complete dick, suicidal thoughts/attempt, angst. If you couldn’t guess from the other warnings....a lot of angst. Also language. If you are not 18, I would advise not reading this one.

A/N: Over the past few months of reading/writing fan fiction, I’ve noticed a lot of fics dedicated to shipping Sam and Lucifer. This has always bothered me, because despite severely glossing over what happened to Sam in the cage, it has been made pretty obvious that Lucifer most definitely raped/assaulted Sam the entire time he was there. It has always frustrated me that they ignore this with Sam, and I think the show and the fandom overlook it because it’s squicky. It is squicky, but I feel like that‘s why we have to pay attention to it. I love Mark Pellegrino’s portrayal of Lucifer. I like the character. But I like the character because they portray him as being terrible and beautiful, and easy to fall in love with. He’s not misunderstood or a precious bean. Anyway, this is my take on what happened with Sam after the wall broke. If you’re into Samifer, that’s your choice, but you might want to skip over this because it’s not going to support your ship at all.

This was beta‘d by my beautiful panda girl, @pinknerdpanda. “This whole thing is giving me chills and making my heart bleed all the bloods. You monster. *whispers* I love you.” Thanks, babe. ;)

As always, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added, please let me know!

Sam was exhausted. It wasn't the exhaustion of staying up late too many nights in a row, or the almost comfortable ache in his bones after a hunt. Those he could deal with, he could pretend to function.

But Sam had been awake for five days.

There had been a brief moment of reprieve when he’d felt his eyelids slip shut and nothing but silent darkness greeted him. He couldn’t say how long he stayed that way; it could have been five minutes or five hours. He would have begun to lose all concept of time if Dean wasn’t around to remind him. Regardless, it had not lasted nearly long enough before Sam had jerked awake, silent screams locked in his chest.

Although Sam went through the motions, he knew that his act was a dry rotted facade at best. He was sure that Dean was beginning to notice. He had begun to lose weight and his reaction time was slow. Y/N had nearly been killed when Sam had completely missed the werewolf he was trying to shoot. He’d known that Dean had been furious, had wanted to demand what the hell was wrong with him, but he’d only glared at him with tight lipped disappointment after he’d taken care of the job himself. Y/N told him that it was okay, but he could see the fear in her eyes when she looked at him.

Sam sat alone on the edge of his bed, his fingers running gently over the stitches still in his hand. The wound was an angry red around the edges, aggravated by his constant pressing. So far, it had been the only reliable way to keep Lucifer at bay; the pain would snap him back to reality pretty quickly. Lately, though, it was taking longer and longer for it to work. If Sam even tried to close his eyes, there he was. Lucifer had even said that was his plan, because how long could a person go without sleep? Sam was afraid that he might be getting close to the end of that time frame. He'd looked it up, and though scientifically speaking it wasn't completely proven, eleven days seemed to be the consensus. He didn't think he had eleven days in him.

He looked down at his shaking hands, his thumb resting softly on the deepest point of the cut, and sighed. This wasn't a solution. Every bit of him ached for a better option, and the logical part of his brain said there had to be another way, but he was tired. So tired. He was tired of looking, of fighting, and especially of trying to defend his actions when the only real reason he had was that an invisible man was making his life a living hell. Dean might believe him, Y/N too, but he couldn't risk it. He'd rather they be angry at him than think he was crazy. Then again, that's exactly what he was, right? He was crazy. Only crazy people saw things no one else could see.

Dean and Y/N had left him behind to research at the local library. Normally Dean would have insisted that Sam go, but today Dean had said that it was his turn to stare at boring, dusty books, and that Sam should take a break. It wasn’t convincing, but Sam didn’t argue. In fact, he’d barely acknowledged what his brother was saying. He’d heard Y/N ask him something, but he’d only grunted in response and laid down. When the door clicked shut behind them, Sam had rolled over and stared at the ceiling, his thumb pressed against his palm.

Sam jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up. Y/N was standing next to him and his brows furrowed in concentration. When had the door opened? He glanced towards the door as he tried to remember the sound of it opening, but if the memory was there, it had already begun to fade.

“Where’s Dean?” His voice was raspy and he realized how dry his throat was.

“He’s still at the library.” Y/N sat down on the bed next to Sam and put a hand on his knee. “Are you okay, Sam? You’ve been...off.”

Sam shrugged, “Yea, I’m fine. Just umm...just a little tired.” His eyes met Y/N’s and it took everything he had not to collapse into her. “Why didn’t Dean come back with you?”

Y/N reached up and pushed a few rogue strands of hair from Sam’s forehead, “I told him not to. He’s frustrated, and when he’s frustrated, he doesn’t let you talk. It’s because he worries, you know. But that doesn’t really help, does it?”

Sam shook his head, “No, it doesn’t…”

“You haven’t been sleeping. What’s going on?”

Sam took a shaky breath, “N-nothing. I just haven’t really felt all that great, it’s been hard to fall asleep.” He looked up at her and tilted his head, “I didn’t think you noticed.”

Y/N smiled, “Of course I noticed. So has Dean, but we didn’t want to force it out of you. It’s not like the Winchesters are known for sharing their feelings, and especially if they feel like they’re being interrogated.” She rubbed lazy circles against his knee as they sat silently for a moment. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Sam shook his head, “I...I don’t think so. I wish you could but I think I have to deal with this on my own.”

Y/N’s hand moved slowly from his knee to his thigh and Sam drew in a sharp breath. He looked at Y/N with wide eyes, “What are you doing?”

Y/N stood and pushed his knees apart with her own, then stepped between his now parted legs. She draped her arms over his shoulders and smiled at him, “What I should have done months ago.” She dipped down and captured his lips with hers, gentle and soft as they moved against his. Sam closed his eyes and let her take control, happily surprised that she felt the same way he did. She fit against him perfectly, and he groaned into her when she gently nipped at his bottom lip before pulling back.

“Is this helping?” she whispered. Sam genuinely smiled for the first time in what felt like ages and leaned his forehead against hers.

“It is helping.” He kissed her, then moved back so he could look at her. He ran his thumb along her jaw and for a moment, forgot what had been wrong in the first place. “You’re beautiful, Y/N. You’re kind and smart, and funny. You’re perfect.”

Y/N laughed, “You sure know how to flatter a girl.” She ran her hands across his broad shoulders, then slid slowly down to his chest. She leaned in and planted gentle kisses along his neck, nipping just enough to leave little marks as she traveled down. Sam sighed as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back to give her better access to the sensitive skin at his pulse point. Y/N slowly moved downward until she was kneeling in front of him and Sam heard the distinct sound of his belt buckle clinking. He quickly looked at her, and she smiled up at him. “Is this okay?” she asked quietly, her hand gently tracing the outline of his hard length through his jeans.

“Yea...it’s okay. Are you sure you want to?” He moaned as she palmed him harder through the denim, her actions silently confirming that she did. Sam’s head dropped back as he felt her unbutton his jeans and freed him from the confines of his boxers and jeans. “Y/N...you feel amazing…”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” Sam’s eyes flew open and he looked down to see Lucifer staring up at him where Y/N had been just moments before. Sam threw himself backwards as he awkwardly tried to tuck himself away while getting as far away from Lucifer as he could.

“Fuck! No, no no no...what the fuck?!” Sam pushed himself as far into the corner of the bed as he could, his back against the wall and his arms wrapped around his knees.

Lucifer looked at him and pouted, still on his knees in the floor, “Is that any kind of way to treat your ol’ bunkmate, Sammy boy?” He jumped up and sat on the edge of the table, eyeing Sam mischievously. “Didja miss me? It’s been, oh...what? A few hours? It felt like days.” He tilted his head and frowned, “I don’t understand what’s wrong. You seemed to be enjoying yourself a minute ago.”

“Get the hell out of here.” Sam had hoped it would have come out louder and stronger, but instead the demand came out more like a whimper. He pulled his knees tighter against his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. “You aren’t real, you’re not here...I’m not in Hell, you are…”

Lucifer laughed, “Oh, Sammy. Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. I’m real, sweetheart. As real as I can get.” He jumped down from the table and walked over to Dean’s bed where he sat down facing Sam. “I can promise you, I’m not the only one in Hell. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but…” He leaned forward, “You’re not exactly in Kansas anymore!” He sing-songed, then immediately gasped and covered his mouth with his hand. “Kansas….awww, I guess Kansas is kind of like Hell too. My mistake, handsome.”

He leaned back on his hands and stared at Sam, who had begun to desperately press the cut on his palm. Lucifer rolled his eyes, “Seriously? Still with that? I swear to my Father, the pointless things people think will help. It’s not gonna work, Samuel! Not. Gonna. Work!” He practically shouted, and Sam flinched as he pushed harder against his palm, so much so that blood began to trickle down his wrist.

Lucifer sighed, then stood and moved over to Sam’s bed and reached out to pat Sam’s foot. He jerked back further into himself, the usually giant man small and vulnerable looking as he curled up into the corner. “Do you remember when we were in the cage together? All those intimate moments that we had, the quiet time amidst all the torture when Michael would leave us alone and it was just us? I mean, I know I was doing the torturing and you just had to take it like a little bitch, but it was so nice to take a break and just...snuggle. You bring out the gentler side of me, Samuel. It’s embarrassing to admit, but it’s true.” Lucifer stood and walked over to the mini fridge.

“What I’m saying is, it hurts my feelings when you push me away. It really chaps my ass.” He grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and flicked the cap off of it. It clattered as it bounced across the table and hit the floor, causing Sam to flinch again. “Have you told Dean about our little fling? Have you given him all the gory details about our illicit love affair? I bet you haven’t. I think he’d be proud of you for exploring your sexuality, and pushing boundaries on what you are willing to do. Well, I pushed the boundaries. But I think you liked it, Sammy.”

He walked back to Sam and held the beer out. “Take it.” Sam shook his head as he bit down on his bottom lip, his chin quivering. “I said...take it.” Lucifer grabbed Sam by the hair and shoved the bottle hard against Sam’s lips, tilting it so that he was forced to drink the beer spilling from it. “Memories, huh? If I weren’t real, could I make you do that? I think we know the answer...and the last time I told you to take it, it ended very similar to this...although it was much more fun than a beer bottle.” He winked, then threw the bottle against the wall. The glass shattered violently, and the amber liquid splattered the yellowing wallpaper.

“Why...why are you doing this?” Sam whispered as he looked up at Lucifer.

Lucifer looked over his shoulder at Sam and smiled, the action dangerous and sharp. “Why am I doing this? Why am I doing this?” He climbed onto the bed, forcing Sam’s legs down as he straddled him and caged him in with his arms. Sam pushed as hard as he could against the fallen angel, just to have his arms pinned above his head. Lucifer’s one hand grasped his wrists tightly as the other gently stroked down the side of his face. Sam flinched away from his touch and Lucifer clucked his tongue.

“You wound me, Sam.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against the shell of Sam’s ear, “I'm doing this because you are the reason I was thrown back into the cage. You were supposed to be my ticket out. I would have done anything for you, I could have given you Jess back if you'd just asked. But no, instead you fought me and you threw me back in that cage, and I had to deal with my absolute asshat of a brother. And why? All because you saw that stupid car with all your pathetic human memories and it made you feel feelings.”

Sam’s head dropped and Lucifer immediately grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head back so that they were looking at each other. Lucifer leaned his forehead against Sam’s and closed his eyes. “The one pleasant memory I have is destroying you over and over in that cage. Taking you every way I could, removing your choices, making you mine. Just thinking about it gets me worked up.” He released Sam’s hair and sat back on his haunches as he stared at him.

“You asked why I'm doing this and the answer is simple; you left me in the cage to rot, and now it's my turn to destroy every waking moment of your life. I'll find ways to make Dean not trust you, Y/N too. They will leave you, and it'll just be me and you. Doesn't that sound like a blast, Sammy?”

Sam sat quietly for a moment, his head down and chest heaving. He slowly looked up and narrowed his eyes. “No.” The answer was short and to the point. The vehemence behind it surprised Lucifer.

“What did you say?”

“I said no.” Sam jammed his thumb as hard as he could into his palm and had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming. He drove it in, wiggling and twisting against the stitches until they popped and fresh blood poured from the now open wound. He opened his eyes to an empty room and a sob escaped him. He was finally alone. He scrambled from the bed and into the bathroom where he stared into the mirror, red rimmed eyes staring back at him.

“He’s gone...he’s gone, I’m by myself and he’s gone.”He repeated the phrase like a mantra, as if the more he said it, the more true it became. His gaze slipped down to where his hands grasped the cool porcelain, his knuckles white.

“You might not see me, but I’m here. Oh, I’m here Sammy boy, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Sam cringed as the voice invaded his head, his grip tightening on the sink as he squeezed his eyes shut. “No, you’re not real. You’re in my head.”

“Look up and tell me if I’m just in your head.”

Sam took a deep breath and looked back in the mirror. Lucifer was standing behind him, his chin resting on Sam’s shoulder and his arms around his waist.

“See? You can’t ditch me like a date on prom night. You’re stuck with me, Sammy. There is nothing you can do to make this stop.”

“This isn’t real. This isn’t REAL!” Sam shouted as he punched the mirror. His reflection shattered, and glass rained down across the bathroom floor. Sam took in a shaky breath, unaware of the deep cut across his knuckles, and stared at the large shards of mirror littering the sink. “I can make it stop. I can make you go away,” he whispered as he picked up a large sliver of glass. Lucifer waved at him from the jagged piece, a wide smile plastered across his face. “I can make you go away…”

Sam held the sharp glass against his wrist, the tip dimpling the skin as he pressed down. Another sob escaped him as he pulled upward and cut deep into his arm. Blinding, fiery pain consumed his forearm, and as he stared at the damage, the reflection in the glass changed. Lucifer was gone. In his place were Dean and Y/N, their smiles wide as they laughed at something Dean said.

He cried out and threw the shard into the sink then sunk down on the edge of the tub. He heard the motel room door slam shut.

“Sam? Sammy?!” Dean rushed into the bathroom and found him, tears pouring down his face and blood dripping from his arm in torrents. “What did you do?” Dean dropped to his knees and gently grasped Sam’s arm, “Jesus, this is deep. Sammy, what happened?”

“I...I messed up Dean. I really messed up.” Y/N stopped suddenly in the doorway, her eyes wide as she took in the scene in front of her.

“Sam?”

“Y/N, get me a towel. This needs stitches, but we have to get this bleeding stopped.” Y/N kept staring, her eyes trained on Sam’s arm. “Y/N!” Dean barked. She jerked a towel from the rack and tossed it to Dean. He wrapped it around Sam’s arm and twisted it as tightly as he could. “Look at me, Sammy. How did you mess up?”

Sam looked up at him slowly, his eyes brimming with tears. “I should have….I should have told you…”

Dean bit his lip as he tried to keep from snapping at Sam. As much as he didn’t want to show it, he was terrified. “Should have told me what? You can tell me now, I won’t be mad.”

“I’ve been seeing Lucifer.” His response was quiet, so quiet that Dean almost didn’t hear him.

“You’ve been seeing Lucifer? Since when?”

“Since the wall broke…”

“Why didn’t you tell us, man? You’ve been seeing him this entire time?” Sam nodded but remained silent. “Is he here right now?”

Sam shook his head, “He’s...he’s gone. That’s why I tried...but I couldn’t, Dean. I saw you and Y/N and I knew I couldn’t let him win. I couldn’t leave you. I’m just so tired. I’m so damn tired.” He began to slump over and Dean caught him.

“Hey, hey….I gotcha. That’s what I’m here for, to take care of my pain in the ass little brother. We’ll fix it, Sammy. I’ll fix it.” He lifted Sam from the tub and struggled to get him through the bathroom door and to the bed. Sam sat on the edge of it, his head lolling against his chest. “Y/N, can you please hold him up? He’s going to fall on his face.” Y/N sat down and leaned Sam into her, her arm around his waist.

He looked up at her, his eyes glassy,”I’m sorry, Y/N.”

She smoothed the hair from his face and smiled gently, “You don’t have to apologize. I wish you had told me though...maybe I could have helped you.”

“You and Dean have enough problems, I didn’t want you to have to worry. I thought...I thought I could handle it.” He grimaced as Dean began to sew the cut and Y/N cupped his cheek.

“Look at me, don't worry about what Dean is doing. Just look at me.” Sam flinched away from her and Y/N frowned. “What is it?”

Sam dropped his head, “He pretended to be you.”

“What?”

“I thought...I thought he was you. He...tricked me into…” Sam trailed off, and Dean looked up at him, awkward panic on his face. Y/N shook her head, a silent warning to Dean to stay quiet. “How do I know it's actually you?”

Y/N wanted nothing more than to hold him, but after his sudden confession, didn't want to scare him anymore than he already was. Instead, she carefully laced her fingers through his, “I will never trick you, Sam. I'm not going to do anything you don't want to do. I'm here when you're ready, okay?” He nodded, and started to slump over again. Dean caught him, and as gently as he could, shifted him to where he was lying fully on the bed.

“Rest, Sammy. We’ll be right here. Just sleep.” Dean wasn't sure that was the best plan after the amount of blood he lost, but judging by how he looked, not sleeping might just kill him instead. As he watched Sam’s eyes slip shut and his breathing slow, he carefully rebandaged Sam’s hand and made a mental note to ask him about that later. He had no idea how to help him, but Dean was determined to destroy Lucifer regardless of what it would take.

And for the first time in five days, Sam slept.

Forever Tags: @trexrambling @pinknerdpanda @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @arryn-nyxx @emptywithout @escabell @charliebradbury1104 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @deanssweetheart23 @canadianjelly @super-not-naturall @aubreyreadsstuff @dean-winchesters-baby @melissaj616 @fandomismyspiritanimal @keepcalmandcarryondean @assbutt-still-in-hell @owllover123 @rosie-winchester @amionthetumbler @duubaduu @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @goldenolaf25 @authoressskr @nanie5 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @zincomms @kathaswings @crazynerdandproud @barbedwireandbubblegum @sandlee44 @boxywrites @justanotherdeangirl @smalltowndivaj @captainradicalpassion @myloveforyouxx @atc74 @easelweasel @mrsbatesmotel53

#supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester #lucifer #dean winchester #suicidal thoughts #suicide attempt #hallucinations

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indigo-streaks-in-her-hair · 7 years

Text

hair dye [ cm x r ]

fandom : Dear Evan Hansen

by : Summer

pairing : Connor Murphy x Reader

summary : in which you and Zoe are dying your hair and try to convince Connor to dye his.

request : “Could you write some Connor Murphy imagine where he is a virgin and the reader isn’t and it’s some smut.”

word count : 7,007

warnings : boy oh boy is this gonna be a sMUT HNNGGGFFFF, y’all can’t have a smut w/o a hella lotta sexual innuendos, cursing, mentions blood?, ooc writing, rushed writing, terrible writing in general;;,,,,,

a / n : Inspired by when I dyed my hair and was super lazy per usual and stained my pillowcase. i’m such a sinner… Is it just me or did my writing change completely like halfway through it? idk it’s bad, sorry. Thanks for reading though. Any sort of support is sincerely respected: liking, commenting, reblogging, following, anything! Constructive criticism is always appreciated :) Much love.

“What the alien cult shit is going on?” Connor asked with a very pissed and very confused expression.

He had just walked past the bathroom when he saw his sister sitting on a chair with strands of hair sectioned off into tubes of tin foil. Y/N, his girlfriend was standing beside Zoe with purple hands. Purple? Blue? Indigo.

“It’s the devil himself,” Zoe said sarcastically.

“You little bi-”

“Zoe,” You cut off Connor rapidly, “if anything he’s a handsome devil.”

“…Fuck you,” Connor mumbled, crossing his arms, and leaning against the doorframe.

“Y/N, you’re gross,” Zoe groaned. You snapped your indigo stained gloves off.

“Grossly in love,” you sang, walking over to Connor and tapping him on the nose. His scowl softened just slightly. Zoe simply groaned.

“I literally cannot have a single day without sharing you,” Zoe slapped the bathroom counter with both hands, “Y/N, you’re supposed to be my best friend. If anything, you’re like my sister and that’d be super weird to think of my sister dating my brother.”

Connor raised his eyebrow and slowly slid his arm over your shoulders. You leaned into his side, expecting him to say exactly what he’d said next.

“You can think of Y/N as your sister-in-law,” he smirked.

Zoe let out a forced gag. Connor stuck his tongue out at her. You waved your arms to cut through their petty teasing.

“If you must know, Connor,” you began, taking a step back to stand in front of Zoe, “We’re dying each other’s hair. After Zoe’s indigo streaks, I’m thinking of doing an ombré to red.” (a/n: if you have darker hair then imagine you bleached it before dying it)

“Okay… but, why?” he responded boredly.

“Well, why not?”

“But why would you?”

“Because it’s like, color! And in your hair. Doesn’t that sound fun or something?”

“Not really.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, turning to Zoe to back you up. She had a mischievous glint in her eye.

“You know,” she smiled slyly, “I think Connor should see how fun it is for himself.”

Connor’s eyes widened. You gasped far too loudly.

“Connor we should totally dye your hair,” you began bouncing up and down like a little child.

“Absolutely not,” Connor shook his head.

“Why not?” you whined.

“Why should I?” he raised his voice an octave to mimic yours.

“You’re so stuck up,” Zoe rolled her eyes, “seriously, there’s no harm in doing it!”

Connor opened his mouth to object, but you interrupted him.

“And I thought you liked spending time with me,” you fake pouted.

“Of course I do,” he frowned, “but not with this gremlin,” he gestured to Zoe, who mocked offense. You decided to try at him with a different approach.

“Aw babe,” you placed your hand against his cheek, moving it back against his head with every word, “I thought you loved when put my hands into your hair, and give it a nice tug.”

You tugged the handful of his hair you had roughly, and he let out a low growl.

“Enough of all of that disgusting flirting, or whatever it is you weirdos do,” Zoe interjected, “are you gonna dye your hair or what?”

You bit your lip, “And even if you don’t like it, I’ll make sure you have fun one way or another,” you winked.

Connor’s face flushed as he groaned angrily. You giggled at him being all flustered.

“Zo, this is exactly the kind of red I’m going for!” you pointed to Connor’s reddening cheeks.

Zoe snorted, failing to hold back her laughter.

“Whatever!” Connor yelled.

You picked up a couple different hair dye colors you had. Holding up a dark blue shade up to Zoe, she posed thoughtfully. Connor spoke up, eyeing the label on the box.

“None of that permanent bullshit,” he crossed his arms, “don’t you have stuff that, like, washes out?”

“As a matter of fact, we do, brother dearest,” Zoe searched through her cluttered bag for the hair chalk you two had gotten to test how different colors would look on your hair.

She handed you a dark blue shade fairly similar to the dye you had in hand. You held them out to Connor.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“I don’t care as long as that,” he pointed at Zoe, “isn’t putting its hands anywhere near me.”

“Make all the excuses you want, Con, but we all know you’re just desperate to have Y/N’s hands all over you,” Zoe smirked.

You rolled your eyes, “Oh, so it’s not disgusting for you to make sexual innuendos about us?”

She giggled, while shrugging. Connor merely scoffed.

“Please,” he seethed, “You can’t keep your hands off of me, can’t you Y/N?”

You raised your eyebrow, as if to warn him ‘two can play at this game’.

“No,” you mumbled innocently, “but you sure don’t seem to mind.”

“Jesus Christ,” Zoe intercepted, “are you guys gonna keep taunting each other or just do it on the counter?”

It all went silent for a good two minutes. You and Connor just stared at Zoe. She darted her eyes left and right for anything to change the subject. She lifted up the hair chalk.

“So, this dark blue?” she smiled awkwardly.

“Yeah,” you replied nonchalantly, as if nothing happened beforehand, “but first, let’s dye my hair.”

After ten minutes, the whole bottom layer of you hair was coated in a blood red dye, courtesy of Zoe. Connor had just sat on the counter the entire time, picking the nail polish off of his nails the entire time. Black flakes littered the sink.

“This is fucking boring,” Connor complained bluntly.

“You know,” Zoe glared, “you don’t have to stay and watch us. You can literally do anything else other than be a creepy stalker or whatever.”

“Nah Zo,” you raised your eyebrows, turning back to look at her, “I’m sure if he could, he’d spend every minute of every day undressing me with his eyes.”

“Literally every time you open your mouth, you have to make a sexual innuendo.”

Connor blew a strand of hair out of his face and propped his legs on top of your knees. You placed your hands on top of his lower legs, and fiddled with the cuffs of his black jeans.

“I don’t have to make verbal innuendos all the time,” you trailed your hands higher up to Connor’s knees, then his thighs, “I can make physical innuendos too.”

Connor looked like he was on the verge of a sweat. You brought your hands up the slightest bit higher and he violently kicked, his foot reaching dangerously close to your face.

“I’m out,” Zoe yelled, almost sprinting out of the bathroom.

Connor hopped off of the counter and slammed the door shut. Click. And suddenly the space seemed thick between you two. An atmosphere of fright grew in the small room, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you presented him a gaudy grin.

Connor slowly turned around, with a furious expression on his face. His eyebrows were arched down, his teeth clenched in a tight scowl, and his ice-cold eyes boring into yours. You didn’t know what to expect next.

You would’ve fallen back at the sudden impact of Connor hadn’t pulled you back by the rear. He slammed his lips fiercely against yours with a fiery passion that could match your reddening hair. Your lips moved in a quickening synchronization as you felt heat wrap around you.

You brought your hands up to grasp the sides of his cheeks, tracing back from his jawline, and ultimately pulling farther into his messy knotted locks. You balled up your fists in his hair and tugged hard, hearing him let out a staggering growl. He pulled you closer, biting hard on your lower lip, making you let out a strangled whimper in return. His chest pressed roughly against yours as you wrapped your left leg around his right. You felt his grip on your rear growing tighter and his hand shift closer your core, his bony fingers pressing up firmly, making you feel weak. You pushed against the bulge forming in his jeans.

He lifted his hand to reach your cheek, and you pulled away suddenly, sitting back into the chair, trying hard not to laugh at his next angry outburst.

“What the fuck?” he yelled, shooting his arms up and dropping them to hit his legs.

“Hair, babe,” you pointed to your hair as he let out an annoyed sigh.

“Well, wash it out!”

Speedy footsteps approached the bathroom, and was replaced with a loud banging on the door.

“I hear yelling!” Zoe shouted, “You better not be murdering my best friend in there!”

“You mean your only friend?” Connor shot back.

You slipped past Connor and unlocked the door, allowing Zoe to stomp in. She exchanged a glance between you, then to Connor, and personally evaluated the scene, focusing very intently on Connor’s disheveled and even messier than usual hair.

“I leave for ten minutes and you animals cannot control yourselves,” she pointed her index finger up and waved it accusingly at the two of you.

You walked around her to stand by Connor and slipped your arm around his waist. He shot you a threatening look, almost daring you to try him.

“I,” You placed your hand over your chest vainly, “can control myself just fine. Your brother on the other hand,” you moved your hand from your chest to pat him gently on the stomach, “might have just the slightest difficulty with that.”

Connor immediately shoved out of your hold and took a step back.

“I can control myself just fucking fine,” he glared, fuming through clenched teeth.

“Oh really?” you laughed, “I beg to differ. Yeah, exhibit A,” you proudly lifted your arms out and gestured to Connor’s pants, presenting his very apparent… excitement. He placed his hands in front of him to cover it, in obvious embarrassment.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind taking about how you were just soaking your fucking panties over me,” Connor argued, and mocking you in a high-pitched tone, he moaned, “Oh Connor! Mmm, yes Connor! Oh, oohh, Connor, fuck me sideways with a spork!” he gasped, flailing his hands back and forth and rubbing them up and down his chest to ridicule you more.

Zoe could do nothing but blink rapidly, and remained in a still position, her mouth hung open in clear disgust. Slowly and silently, you pressed her chin up and closed her mouth, to which she responded by shaking her head violently.

“Wow, okay,” she mumbled out, “I am.. related, to this-this.. person..,” she trailed off.

Connor rolled his eyes and walked out, before you could contradict him. Maybe he won that round, but you planned for him to take his sorry words and shove them back down his throat.

“So,” you dragged out the ‘o’, hoping to resurrect Zoe from her state of absolute disbelief, “how long until I can wash this dye out?”

“…Twenty minutes.”

After seven or eight painfully awkward minutes, you and Zoe decided to look for Connor so you could use the blue hair chalk. When he wasn’t anywhere to be seen in his room, the two of you had found him in the kitchen, drinking the milk straight from the container. Zoe was about to tell him off before he had told her there was barely any left, anyways. You held up the temporary dyes. He averted his eyes from you and simply frowned.

“Hey Mr. Boyfriend-of-the-year,” you joked, “how’s about we put a little color in that hair and a smile on that face, huh?”

He completely ignored you.

“Don’t be petty, babe,” you dropped your head on his shoulder, and he shrugged you off. Zoe decided to butt in.

“Hey Connor, we’ve got a few minutes, let’s put some of this chalk on your hair,” she spoke, with fake enthusiasm.

“You know, Zoe,” he propped his hand upwards, “I don’t really think I want to. Yeah, a certain someone really changed my mind.”

Zoe turned to you, and you just closed your eyes, brows raised, and let out a sharp exhale.

“Can I change it back?” you pleaded, and Connor raised an eyebrow at you with a cocky smile, “What can I do that’s not non-consensual, illegal, out of a $10 budget range, or flat out disgusting?”

“I think you know,” he chuckled while pulling out his phone to record.

“How would I- oh,” you winced, knowing how regretful you’d be in the very near future.

“Alright… Go!” he pressed the record button.

“Here goes any shred of respect I’ve ever had for myself,” you sighed loudly, “Hmm, o-oh, Connor… uh, mmm Connor Murphy is the sexiest human being! Oohh Connor,” you spoke mortified, burying your face into your hands. Connor and Zoe were laughing obnoxiously.

“Keep going,” Connor choked, his voice caught in laughter. You shook your head in total disappointment of yourself.

“Connor Murphy has the biggest dick in the world,” you forced out dryly.

“Say-,” Connor cut himself off with a snort, “Say ‘I rub my nipples thinking about you every single night’!”

“Alright. You heard it here folks,” you grinned, “Connor Murphy rubs his nipples thinking about me every single night! That’s gotta be some serious commitment!”

“God damn it, you know what I mean!”

“Fine, fine, okay,” you made a noise of frustration, “um… I rub my nipples,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, “thinking about you every single night. Satisfied, asshole?”

“Not as satisfied as you’ll be, soon,” Connor taunted smugly, rewatching the video.

You were, in fact, humiliated and wanted nothing more than to take that phone and shove it up his ass. But, you had to admit, you loved seeing how much he laughed and smiled. That was sort of a rare sight and, as agonizing as the whole experience was, you couldn’t help but wager the fact that it might have been worth it. And there was also another bonus:

“So are we gonna put this blue in your hair or what?”

You stood behind a seated Connor, running your fingers through his hair, trying to take out the majority of knots in it. It was a nice silence, not overwhelmingly tense. He was relaxing into your touch, the feeling of your fingernails lightly dragging from his scalp to give a gently pull at the ends was an incredible amount of soothing and comforting to him. You took your hands out of his hair before he could get too comfortable or even fall asleep.

Zoe on the left side, you on the right, the both of you began sectioning of different portions of his hair for the coloring process. Starting from the back of his head and slowly making your way to his front, you colored random streaks of the pigment into his curly strands. The bright bathroom lighting highlighting the blue gave him such an oceanic aura, you couldn’t help but smile. His waves of hair mimicked the waves of the ocean, and his pale skin and icey eyes greatly resembled that of sea foam, and the accents of pale brown hair was the shore his waves were crashing into.

He was stunning, to say the least.

“Keep staring and smiling at me, why don’t you,” Connor remarked.

“I can’t help it that you’re beautiful,” you gazed into his calming eyes.

Zoe made a noise that sounded like a retch. You looked over at her to see her pointing at her open mouth, tongue sticking out, and eyebrows furrowed with repulse. You gave her a look that expressed your annoyance with her replies to anytime you and Connor conversed.

“It’s time for you to wash out your hair,” she told you.

“Okay, but first,” you turned your attention to Connor, who looked back at you expectantly, “Con, what do you think of your hair?”

“It’s eh,” he shrugged, “I don’t hate it, but I don’t really like it either. You sure this stuff washes out? I don’t want to have to go to school looking like a fucking smurf.”

You nearly choked trying to hold back a laugh. Connor Smurfy. Recomposing yourself, you tried to keep your voice steady.

“Yeah, you want to wash it out?” you asked him, and he nodded, “Okay, babe, I’ll go wash my hair out in the other bathroom.”

“What, you don’t want to shower with me?” he teased, raising his eyebrows suggestively. You bit your lip as you gradually turned around to answer him.

“First of all,” you held up one finger, “I’m just rinsing my hair, no stripping required. And second,” you paused, and acted as if you were actually considering it, “nope!”

You skipped away and Zoe trailed behind you. As soon as you reached the door, you halted abruptly, causing Zoe to almost fall into you without any sudden warning.

“I think I actually might take a shower,” you rethought, “I’m totally exhausted. Do you think I could spend the night?”

“Definitely,” Zoe responded, “my parents love having you over, ‘cause you,” she curled her fingers into quotation marks, “‘keep Connor sane’ or whatever.”

“Okay,” you snickered, “I’ll tell my folks. Do you have a change of clothes I can borrow?”

“Steal some of Connor’s, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“But why can’t-”

“No more questions, lady! Now get in that shower before all that red poisons your brain,” she pushed you roughly into the bathroom, and left without a single other word.

You, being left with no other choice, shot your parents a quick text, then stripped down and hopped into the shower. The icy water hit immediately, stinging like bullets into your back, and each drop made you cringe more until the cold subsided into a warmth you could get used to. The hot water blanketed you in a heavy layer of steam and relaxation. Looking down at the floor beneath you, the heavily pigmented, rich red flooded your feet and covered them in a massacre of dye. After rinsing out as much of the color as you could, your hair was left drizzling with pink water.

Picking up the first bottle of shampoo your eyes landed on, you applied a generous amount to your hair, scrunching swirls all over your head, creating a faux hawk, and messing with the foam bubbles while humming a random tune you had gotten stuck in your head. The strawberry scent was very familiar to you in a way you did not know.

The low patter of the water against the floor was very reminiscent of a soft rain. You felt like you could stay there for hours.

The bathroom silenced as you turned off the faucet. The curtains opened with a swish and the chills that hit your body were wrapped tightly with a towel. Making sure it was secured tight around your chest, you ventured into Connor’s room, where you found him laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. You knocked to make sure he knew you were there.

He sat up, and you could see him clearer. His hair had been pulled back into a messy bun, and the blue had been washed clean out. It still looked damp, however a few stray strands frayed their way out. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, most likely because he was getting ready to sleep. The hairs on his chest were prominent against his pale, scrawny, yet toned figure.

“What do you need?” he asked.

“You,” you replied drastically with an elongated pause, taking great satisfaction in watching his face grow wildly red and his eyes widen with shock, before finishing your sentence, “…to get me a pair of clothes to change into.”

“Why can’t you borrow Zoe’s?” he frowned, knitting his eyebrows down bitterly.

“I’m already here,” you tugged up the loosening side of your towel.

Connor just shook his head and tossed you one of his shirts and a pair of pants from the floor.

“Are these clean?” you studied his clothes carefully, hoping not to find any gross stains on them.

“They’re clean enough,” he fell back onto his bed.

Feeling too tired to contradict him, you decided it was fine to just sleep in those clothes. You stepped into his surprisingly spacious closet to allow yourself some privacy. The friction of dry fabric against wet skin proved difficult as you tried to tug on his clothes. After a long and tiresome polyester battle, you were able to burst out of the closet with obvious relief written all over your face.

“I’m gay for Connor Murphy!” you screamed, charging to belly flop on an unsuspecting sprawled out Connor laying in bed.

“What the fu-OOF!” your sudden impact against him nearly knocked the wind out of him.

You scrawled your arms around his bare torso and wrapped your legs round his, intertwining them firmly. You pressed your head deep against his chest, your ear resting above his heart, listening to your favorite sound: the constant beating of his heart.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he mumbled, “you could at least warn a guy.”

He pulled the thin tie out of his hair, then he turned to his right side, and laid you on the plush mattress. He brushed your wet hair off of his chest, seeming displeased by the water that was infecting his white sheets and pillows. You hooked your arm under his own and around and over his shoulder, placing a soft, lingering kiss on his chest.

Connor pulled the covers over the two of you, then placed his hand on your thigh, and inched it upward slowly, as he wrapped his other arm crossing over your back and stroked your side. He pressed a firm kiss against your temple, as you began to doze off.

Connor wasn’t one who usually slept early, but you were a great exception. He felt unusually comfortable and secure as he held you, and observed the current situation intently.

Your body was warm, but to him you were radiating. You were sweating, but to him you were sparkling. You were quietly snoring, but to him you were an angelic choir. His clothes were dirty and wrinkled, but to him you wore them like a model. The constant rising and falling if your chest was a mesmerizing dance that he could watch forever.

And he did.

He gazed at your peaceful resting form until he forgot how to keep his eyes open.

3:28 AM in piercing red light was the first thing Connor saw when he opened his eyes. His room was pitch black other than the digital clock on his bedside table. The lopsided shift in the mattress and the arm hooked loosely around his middle indicated that you were well asleep next to him. He stroked down your arm until he found the palm of your hand. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he glided his thumb over your index finger, feeling over every joint and every small indent. He could feel himself beginning to grin stupidly at your soft touch.

What Connor didn’t know was that his fragile actions had aided in helping you slowly regain your consciousness. Still, you remained silent and motionless, except for a ghost of a smile you had failed to try to hide. It was a habit of Connor’s that you loved so much when he would fiddle with your hands, your hair, your cheeks, and even the hems of the shirts and shorts you wore. In quiet moments like so, it gave you a great time to think about how much you adored his affection. Sure, he wasn’t really verbally affectionate, but any hug or kiss shared between the two of you felt like one of the closest connections that could ever be created between a pair.

Connor wasn’t one for being open and expressive about his feelings so it would be incredibly rare to hear him go on endlessly about why he loved you, but he’d always think about how incredible you are on a daily basis, even if you can annoy the living shit out of him, sometimes.

He liked how you didn’t cower in fear at his very presence. He liked how you could naturally approach him and how you could hold a regular conversation with him without shaking your voice or giving him an uneasy look. He loved how you didn’t mind if he wanted to hold or kiss you, and in fact wanted him to touch you constantly. He loved that no matter how much you two could joke around, you would never bluntly insult him with name calling. And he absolutely loved how trusting enough you were with him to fall asleep on the same bed and not be afraid of all the dark twisted lies that other people would accuse him of.

Something pricked at his throat and his mouth went dry. He squeezed your hand ever so slightly as he shifted to grab the plastic water bottle on his bedside table. In his blind searching, he felt the back of his hand hit cool plastic and a loud impact on the floor.

“Shit,” he whispered, as you tried desperately not to giggle at his pointless clumsiness.

With your eyes still closed, you felt a great shift on the other side of the bed and heard a small click, as the dark shifted to a soft light. You could hear Connor’s feet hit the ground and the low crinkle of the water bottle only to hear it drop again. You expected him to curse again but instead were confused by his eerie silence.

Connor dropped his feet to the floor, picking up his water bottle, then turned around to admire the sleeping beauty on his bed only to have his chest feel heavy and his breathing grow labored as he registered the scene in front of him. He dropped his water bottle, and everything seemed to go in slow motion. The love of his life was laying limp and unconscious on his bed as wet, blood red stains surrounded her head in the pillows. He was so confused and scared, he didn’t know what the hell to do.

“Fuck!” he yelled, running his hands through his hair, and tugging painfully, “Shit, shit, shit, shit…” he mumbled repetitively.

Quickly he leaned over and shook you vigorously by the arm. Your eyes shot open and you jolted completely awake with a tense flinch.

“Connor, what the fuck?” you slurred, stretching your arms outwards, and twisting your torso, letting out a crack that made you cringe.

“What the fuck?” he gestured to the dark red up and down his pillow.

You turned your head to look at what he was talking about, and sections of your now dry hair fell in front of your face. The red illuminated in the lamp light. Connor fell back onto his bed, clutching his head and exhaling loudly, casually mortified albeit relieved. A dopey smile grew on your face as you let out a great laugh, leaning your head into his back.

“It’s not fucking funny,” he grunted. He gripped you by the waist and held you firmly. You hummed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“It’s kinda funny,” you chuckled.

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he tightened his constricting hold on you and dug his fingernails into your sides. You rubbed circles into his back.

“Hey,” you whispered, “I’m still here and I’m perfectly okay.”

He nodded slowly into the crook of your neck, his hair tickling you slightly. You placed a light kiss in his hair. His limbs were taut around your body.

“You’re so tense,” you shifted him to lay down on the bed.

His grip loosened just slightly as he pulled back to admire you. You were absolutely infatuated with his eyes. Watching his pupils dilate against his colorful irises was like seeing art in motion. His eyes were rimmed with dulled red bags. You leaned your forehead against his own.

“Aren’t you tired?” you questioned.

“Not really,” he mumbled.

You leaned forward to press your lips against his, and he gladly met you halfway. When you parted, you leaned over the edge of the bed to pick up the water bottle on the floor. You handed it to him and he said a quick “thank you”. He took the cap off and just stared at it. You sat confused in silence for a good minute.

“Connor,” you leaned back against the pillows, “take a fucking sip.”

Whatever trance he was in, he seemed to snap out of it because he flinched and downed what was left of the bottle. He threw the empty plastic aside, and dropped his head into your lap. He closed his eyes.

“Fuck,” he said, “I thought I fucking lost you.”

“You actually thought I was gone?” you ran your hands through his hair.

“I know, I know, it’s dumb. Shut up.”

“Aw, it’s not like I died or anything- I mean I just dyed my hair.”

“Oh my fucking god, just shut up about it!”

“Hey, you saw me breath-”

Of course Connor used the cliche “shut you up with a kiss” move. He kissed you fiercely, biting hard against your top lip. You immediately held onto his shoulders, whimpered quietly, then rolling yourself on top of him. He pushed roughly against you, his tongue swirling with yours. You shoved him back, cringing as he hit the headboard. He inhaled sharply, and you pulled away.

“You know,” you gasped as he attacked your neck, working a gentle yet violent demeanor, “it’s funny how you can blackmail me, you can tease me, and you can pretend to hate me when I annoy you,” tears pricked your eyes as he bit down hard on a sensitive spot, proceeding to trail his kisses down your chest, “but just have a little ‘fake blood’ and suddenly you’re all-”

“If you don’t shut up about it then I will make you bleed,” his arms scrambled to touch every dip and crook on your body.

You moved your hands against Connor’s chest and forcefully pried him off of you. He fell back with little restraint. Lifting his head up, he was wheezing as if he’d just ran a marathon. Sitting upright in his lap, you could feel his excitement poking underneath you.

“Listen here, lover boy,” you placed your hands on your thighs and hunched over forward, “First of all, obviously you don’t know, but I’ve already ‘popped my cherry’, alright?” you made quotation marks with your hands. He lifted his head down from the ceiling to you, looking absolutely taken aback.

“Second of all,” you placed your arms on his shoulders as he gripped the bed sheets in a faint panic, “you can make all the sex jokes you want, or spit a shit load of game, but we both know you’ve never gotten it on once.”

Connor held onto his bed sheets so tight he was sure he’d rip the fabric. His eye twitched slightly as he chewed roughly onto his lower lip. He knew he couldn’t defend himself there.

“And third,” you slid your hand down from his shoulders to his elbows, “it is almost four in the morning and your parents are just a couple rooms away. So if you so desperately want this, then it’ll be the most quiet passionate love making in fucking history.”

Connor was absolutely sure he wasn’t thinking at all when he answered you.

“Shit…,” he murmured, “I want this so badly,” he was completely mesmerised by the idea of it with you.

You gaped at him, blinking a couple times before nodding steadily. You pulled yourself off of his lap.

“Okay,” you recollected your thoughts, “do you… have a condom?”

Leaning over to his side, he stretched out his arm to pull open his drawer.

“I’ll be honest,” you could hear the shifting of various items as he searched, “I’ve been planning on this for a while, I just didn’t know when,” he whispered that last part.

You beamed at him, thinking it was so genuine that he wanted you to be his first. He placed the condom beside the two of you. You rested your hands on either of his cheeks, the tips of your fingers curling around his silky locks.

“I’m uh, not really sure what to say,” you sighed, “I know this is new to you and everything, so if it gets too… um, intense, in a way, don’t be afraid to tell me to stop. In fact, don’t be afraid of anything with me because I have my complete faith and trust in you and-”

“Hey, hey,” he cut short your rambling, “You talk way too fucking much. I’m more than ready to do this with you.”

“Right, so,” you shifted your hands to trace his jawline, “can I kiss you?”

“Hell yeah,” Connor closed the gap between the two of you instantly.

Your lips danced in a slow waltz as your noses bumped with every relaxed movement. You could already clearly tell how eager he was for you, but didn’t want to rush into things. A question formed at the back of your mind, and began to wear out your entire thought process.

Connor moved from your lips to your cheeks, along your chin and jaw, and down your throat. You bit your lip to silence a moan and laid your palms flat against his bare chest. The mixture of the warm room and your hot bodies made an easy beginning for sweat. He littered your profile with love bruises and saliva.

“Connor,” you inquired. He mumbled incoherent sounds against the vibration of your vocals, “you,

um, you weren’t mad when I told you I’ve done… this before. Wh-Why is that?”

As he pulled back, you enjoyed the feeling of the rough skin on his thumb caressing your cheekbone. You decided to return the favor as he answered you, leaning in to attach your lips onto his pale neck. He suppressed a low growl.

“There’s no way you could’ve,” he hissed as you reached a sensitive spot, “n-no way you cou-could’ve known that you and I…” he lost his trail of thought as pleasure overcame him.

“You and I?” you questioned in an alluring manner, smiling against his collarbone.

He had to pull back to think straight. You could’ve started giggling at how effortless it was to distract him. You rested your head over his heart as he took a moment to ease his hasty panting. You rubbed his bicep in a way to reassure him to take as much time as he needed to. It didn’t take too long for him to speak up again.

“Your question, uh, back then, there’s really no way you could’ve known that you and I would be together, ya know?”

“I know,” you began to pepper kisses down his chest, “thank you so much for understanding,” you traced the line of hair that lined down to his boxers, “I love you so much, Connor.”

His hands toyed with the hem of your (or rather, his) shirt. You fixed your gaze on him at the sudden contact. He lifted it up ever so slightly.

“Is this okay?” he worried.

“It’s okay.”

He pulled his shirt off of you, discarding it over the side of the bed. Your now bare and newly exposed skin began to spasm with shivers. He was captivated by the sight of you. He blushed as his mouth hung agape in awe.

Every mole, discoloration, bodily hair, dip, and crease made you seem like an absolute masterpiece to him. Sure, he had seen you completely bare before, but now that he knew what was eventually going to happen, he felt so appreciated to know that you had so much assurance that you were willing to intertwine yourselves with no barriers.

Cautiously, Connor lifted his hands, looking to you for a sign that it was okay to proceed. You gave him a curt nod and he placed his hands over your breasts. He began to knead them as if he knew exactly what to do to drive you mad. Holding your mouth shut, you hummed a whimper of satisfaction.

“I know I gave you total shit for not shutting up about this but,” Connor referred to the red hair dye stain incident, “I honestly was so fucking scared.”

Something about the tone he spoke it made something sting in your heart. Either that or he just really knew how to work his way around your chest.

“I really don’t know what the hell I’d do with myself if I actually lost you,” he spilled, grazing his fingers over your sensitive nipples, as groan got caught in your throat, “You make me feel safe and cared for, respected and loved in a way I never knew existed.”

He applied more pressure, pushing you down to lay flat against the bed. Your hands found their way comfortably into his hair, tugging lightly as he hovered over you. He pressed lazy kisses all over your middle.

“You don’t put my flaws in front of me,” he murmured against your stomach, the movement of his lips tickling your tender skin, “fuck, you don’t treat me like an outcast. The way you talk and touch me, makes me feel normal; makes me feel wanted.”

You almost swore you could hear his voice crack and falter. Sweat grew heavier on your body when he started sucking and biting down on any bit of flesh he could reach.

“Connor,” was all you could utter before your mind scrambled and you grew light-headed. All you could do was look up and breathe. Your heart was beating like a drum against your chest, it felt like it could just pop out at any given moment.

With the few nerves you gained control over, you weakly hoisted yourself up, Connor removing himself from you. His face played an expression of fear he might’ve made you too uncomfortable.

You slipped your thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, which he whispered for you to take off. Sliding off the last article of clothing keeping him from being completely exposed to you, his length sprung up.

“I’m so ready for you,” you flushed a deep red. You guided his hands to the pants you were wearing begging him with your trembling arms to discard what left you had on you.

“You make me feel so fucking happy,” Connor took no time to rid you of his pants and your undergarments.

Admiring your lower region, he mumbled, “Holy fucking shit.”

You drew him in for one more hot, fervent kiss. As much as he loved the feeling of your tender lips on his slightly chapped own, he was incredibly impatient. When you finally pulled off of him, you took the condom that had been lying beside the two of you and removed it from its wrapper.

You pinched the tip and rolled it onto his eager self, noticing his squirming under your touch. Situating yourself over his lap, you rested your forehead against his before requesting one last confirmation.

“Are you,” you rifled through your vocabulary for the right words to say, “Are you okay?”

You didn’t expect him to shake his head ‘no’.

“Fuck,” he snarled, “I want to make you feel as loved as you make me.”

“Trust me,” you ran your fingers over his cheek, “you do.”

And with that, you sank yourself down onto him, the both of you letting loose a cacophony of groans and grunts. Connor lifted his hips to meet yours, his whole body giving in to vigorous tremors as your walls clenched tightly around him. Tears stung your eyes as you rotated your hips onto him comfortably. Your spine tensed up in trembles as you raised yourself gently.

You stimulated movement, leaning against and off of him, as he thrusted in synch with you. Something clawed at your throat, begging you to scream, but instead you let out a meek cry. A tear fell from the corner of your eye.

Connor gingerly pressed his lips to yours, as you let out your moans as silently as you could. Grabbing him by the face as he you around your torso, you felt tears flooding your hands. You parted for a split-second to take a look at him. Hot tears were trailing down his face, and you leaned back in quickly, pulling him affectionately into another kiss.

The both of you tried miserably to choke back any noise but couldn’t help but be sympathetic to one another as your bodies moved at a gradually increasing rate. Sweat beaded over you like rain. the knot in your core grew tighter and tighter until it became too much to bear.

Slurs of ‘I love you’s, and mumbles of each other’s names transferred back and forth between you two until the chain was broken by a strangled moan and a staggered gasp.

Connor was first to release himself, but not a few moments later, you began to lose yourself over him. You rode out your highs, bouncing slower against each other with every passing minute. You felt like collapsing.

You and Connor were both exhausted. Your bodies were wrapped intricately like a complicated knot: leg around leg, hand in hair, and arm over shoulder. You felt a powerful burning inside you as you tamed your breath.

“Damn,” you exhaled, “are you sure you haven’t done this before? You seriously seem to know what you’re doing.”

He let out a raspy chuckle, his voice low and husky.

“I guess I know you all too well,” he kissed your forehead.

You hummed, “Well, I’m glad you do.”

Shifting yourself close to him, you didn’t care if you were burning your ass off, or if you were sweating like swine. It felt right to be as close to him as possible.

“By the way, red is such a beautiful color on you”

#connor murphy x reader #connor murphy imagine #dear evan hansen x reader #dear evan hansen imagine #deh #dear evan hansen #connor murphy #deh imagine #deh fic #evan hansen #alana beck #jared kleinman #zoe murphy #deh x reader #indigo imagines #by summer

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