#the first image is exactly what im wearing minus the shoes

[triangleguy]

haunted house character this year!!!!! his name is peter. and hes supposed to be named after peter murphy but im now realizing how funny it is to have a spider themed character named peter because. Spiderman. anyway. i like him

[pacman-tattoo]

promise [connor m. x reader]

uh hi im not good at reader inserts i swear. i’ve never written connor (or anything deh-related) before so uh, my apologies if he (and zoe, since she pops up for like, 5 seconds) is ooc. also i wrote this on google docs and then tumblr messed it up so i fixed it :’D

warnings; swearing, mainly? lots of swearing.

    connor: you up

    connor: y/n

    connor: fuck

    y/n: wtf connor i was almost asleep

    connor: sorry

    y/n: what is it

    connor: come outside

    y/n: connor

    y/n: what

    y/n: oh my god

    y/n: connor i s2g

    connor: just get out here

     You threw off your blankets, shoved your phone in your sweatpants’ pocket as you left your room without a second thought. You were lucky, since you didn’t have to worry about your parents - your mom was definitely asleep, and your dad worked at night. Meanwhile Connor probably had to sneak out to get here - the fucker probably ran here, now that you think about it. But you opened the door, and there he stood at the end of your driveway, staring off into the skies. He didn’t hear the door open, or maybe he did and he just wanted to ignore the world for a few more minutes. Just a few minutes - that’s all some people could ask for.

    You and Connor weren’t friends - you never did anything together or went anywhere or talked at school - but you two definitely weren’t strangers. By some chance you ended up with his number due to some stupid school project either freshman or sophomore year after being thrown into a group with him and some other kid, and it had been your idea to exchange numbers. Some kids pitied you - you were in a group with Connor Murphy, the same kid who threw a printer at his second grade teacher because he wasn’t line leader. But you didn’t say anything as some kid whispered this to you. Maybe he was one of those kids. Kids with issues that don’t get resolved because people just say they’ll grow out of it, just give it time. But maybe it was because you could relate in a way. Connor had his problems, and you had yours. He texted you during the project once. You and Connor and whatshisname got an A.

    But after a few weeks, he texted you again. Some question about whatever book you’d been reading. And then you texted him about some stupid thing, and then it continued - by some stroke of mere luck. But you didn’t talk to him at school, whether it be out of respect for whatever image he has drawn up for himself, or whether it be a small part of you trying to protect your own image, you weren’t exactly sure at times. You saw how people would look at him. So maybe you’d try to be there more.

    So you walked and you stopped at his side, dressed in a shirt and sweatpants, and looked at the stars with him.

    “Hey.”

    He didn’t respond for a moment. “Hey.”

    “You okay?”

    “Yeah.”

    You looked to him. “You sure?”

    “Yeah.”

    You frowned. You looked back to the stars. “Liar.”

    “I’m not-”

    You cut him off, “Connor. You can talk to me.”

    “I hurt Zoe.”

    Your blood ran cold. “Hurt how?”

    “I… said some shit to her that I didn’t mean.”

    “Connor-”

    “We already fight, but I said some shit and I think it actually got to her this time.”

    “What did you say?”

    He looked over to you. He shook his head. You only shove your hands into your pockets.

    “Some things are better left unsaid, then,” you shrugged, “but… that bad, huh?”

    “Yeah.”

    “You wanna stay over? Mom and dad won’t care.”

    He nearly chuckled. Yeah, but his will. “Can’t. I already had to sneak out to get here.”

    “That hasn’t stopped you before,” you said and shrugged again. “Whatever.”

    There’s a pause. Your shoulder bumps against his arm. He finally spoke again.

    “I think Zoe hates me.” When you didn’t respond, he only continued, “not that I blame her. It’s just… I don’t know, this shit’s bothering me.” He paused. “Maybe I’ll stay over.”

    You somewhat knew why - or at least you thought you did. You could keep him from doing something he’d regret. But you only nodded. “You can stay in my room.”

    “Alright.”

    It grew quiet again. You sat down. Connor sat beside you. The warm air blew and brushed over your skin and you shivered a little but you don’t mind, honestly, because any wind is good wind when it’s hot as hell outside - and the only reason you’re wearing sweatpants is because it’s cold as fuck inside, no thanks to your parents keeping the house at least fifty degrees minus whatever it was outside. You look to Connor. His hair is pulled back. But not only is his hair pulled back; it’s pulled back in one of those cheap, puffy hair-ties that only kids use sometimes because they’re soft and small and easy to lose and cheap, and it reminds you of childhood because there were a lot of girls that would have their parents or siblings or whoever brush their hair and put it up in those little puffy hair-ties that matched their outfits because that’s cute, y’know, kids are cute, but Connor Murphy is sitting next to you at seventeen with a cheap pink (or maybe it’s purple or red but fuck if you knew for sure) hair-tie he probably stole from Zoe or he found hidden in a drawer or maybe he ran into a Walmart and bought it, because, honestly, fuck if you knew. But it makes you smile. He doesn’t catch why, but the small crack of a smile begins to break through.

    Maybe you liked Connor Murphy.

    No. There wasn’t a maybe. You liked Connor Murphy and you knew it and you didn’t say shit because you’d become that person who likes a freak despite how much you wanna scream that he is not a freak and he doesn’t deserve this bullshit. And honestly, you doubted that he liked you. Connor didn’t really like anybody, or at least, he was pretty damn good at hiding it. Connor was pretty damn good at hiding a lot of things - although he wasn’t as good when it came to you. You knew these little things he’d do whenever he was lying and you called him out on it when you could. But if Connor liked you, or liked anyone, you didn’t know.

    “How are you not hot right now?”

    You shrugged. His gaze lingered on you for far too long. You faked a yawn. “Let’s just… go to sleep. C’mon.”

    You two stood, and Connor followed you inside, lingering behind you as you locked your door and then double-checked it because can you always trust your memory? sometimes you wish you could and swung down the hall, walking into your room. When was the last time Connor was in here?

    “New poster,” he noted in a voice that was too quiet. You looked over. You shrugged - something someone had bought you and you hung it up just because there was an empty space. You’d tear it down in a few more weeks. It… messed with the flow of your room. Not because you didn’t like the band or anything - you did, but recent events have fucked with your perception and you’d rather not broadcast your love for their music because then people start to assume you’re a terrible person and you’re excusing actions, even if you say nah dude, it’s just their music, fuck them as people because that was when it sounded like you were getting defensive and making up an excuse so that people still liked you even if you were a piece of shit who excused actions-

    “Are you okay?” Connor finally asked. You almost shrugged again. You really should stop doing that.

    “Tired.”

    He doesn’t buy it. Connor unzipped and tossed away his hoodie - and he was asking you about your sweatpants - somewhere on the floor while you threw down a pillow or two and a spare blanket. He mumbled a thank you while you buried yourself back in your blankets. Through sleep ridden thoughts, you finally looked back to Connor, who lay there on your floor, gazing at your ceiling.

    “Connor?” A small hum of acknowledgement. “Promise me you’ll talk to me.”

    “I already talk to you.”

    “Connor.”

    A soft chuckle. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll talk to you.”

    “Promise?”

    “Promise.”

    The next morning, Connor had left before you were awake. You checked your phone first, only to find a quick text saying he “had to go.” His parents or his sister probably started freaking out. You didn’t blame them - you would be too.

    And a few days after that, Zoe Murphy decides to text you -something short and simple at first.

    zoe: [y/n]? this is zoe murphy.

    At first you wondered how she got your number. Maybe Connor’s phone? But then:

    zoe: have you seen connor?

    Fuck.

    y/n: no?

    y/n: why

    zoe: damn it.

    y/n: zoe what the fuck

    zoe: i don’t know

    zoe: he disappeared last night.

    y/n: fuck, i’ll call and see if i can get ahold of him

    zoe: don’t. i got your number from his phone.

    zoe: he left it on his bed

    y/n: well shit

    y/n: i’ll go look for him

    zoe: thank you

    Damn it, Connor. You pushed back from your desk, grabbing your wallet before stopping. Connor’s jacket. You grabbed it from the floor, confused as to why he’d leave it here, but only shrugged as you threw it onto your bed - it could always wait. You need to find Connor first, then you could return his jacket. You swung out of your doorway and down the hall, glancing to your father on the couch, watching some sitcom on TV. You grabbed your keys, the jingling enough to catch his attention as he glanced up to see you about to slip into your shoes.

    “Going out?” He mused. You nodded.

    “Meeting a friend.”

    “Friend?”

    “Yeah.”

    He took your word. Bless him. “Alright. Be careful.”

    “I will.”

    After three hours of aimlessly driving around town, you returned home and immediately the sight of Connor fucking Murphy sitting on your doorstep made you grip the steering wheel as tight as you could. You pulled up and off to the side of your mother’s car, shutting off the car and quickly slamming the door behind you. It took everything to keep you from stomping over to Connor and nearly punching him, but you didn’t. He looked up at you and the smallest hint of a smile flickered across his face, but disappeared upon seeing you glowering at him.

    “I can explain-”

    “What the fuck, Connor?”

    “I needed some time alone.”

    “You couldn’t have taken your phone? Or told Zoe? Or me?”

    He licked his lips, running a hand through his hair, before slowly speaking, “no.”

    You grew flustered as frustration continued to build, “Connor-” you stumbled, “what-” and again, “you can’t just-” and again and again before only coming up with a single word: “why?”

    He shrugged, “Zoe would…. probably tell me I’m stupid. And you…” He trailed off. “It’d be hard to say shit to you.”

    Your chest tightened. Did he not trust you? “Connor-”

    “I was thinking about you.”

    Well, shit. Your heart jumped at the thought of Connor thinking about you because why should he think about you? Why would he be sitting around somewhere thinking of you?

    “It’s just…” He stopped for a moment… was Connor blushing? Oh god. “You’ve been nice to me.”

    “Because you’re cool?” You said, “I mean, you haven’t really given me a reason-”

    “Did everyone else need a reason to treat me like a freak?” He took the smallest of steps away from you.

    You frowned. “Apparently not. But… that’s just how people are, Connor.”

    “You aren’t.” He licked his lips again, before taking a deep breath. “You… gave me a chance. Even after what that kid told you. And… I don’t know, it just got to me. You actually gave a shit about this fuck up of a person-”

    “Connor-”

    “And I just kept thinking and thinking about what to fucking say because, fuck, this shit is confusing, because you.. you’re just...”

    “Just? Connor, just tell me what-”

    Before you could even finish your thought, Connor’s lips were on your own. Connor fucking Murphy was kissing you and it wasn’t a dream, holy shit. You tore back from him by some impulse, staring at him and nearly touching your own lips until you caught his scowl.

    “Fuck, no, I shouldn’t have-” He stumbled back, “fuck, you probably think I’m some kind of… freak who just.. just-” He groaned, muttering, “fuck” over and over under his breath.

    Something spurred. Confidence? Hormones?... Maybe something else? Hell if you knew. But you still smiled, slowly pushing your hands into your pockets and only glancing at Connor, keeping your words soft, “you could have asked, dumbass.” He looked back to you, eyes pinned to you, drinking in your appearance at that very moment before balling his hands into fists. Something snapped, the small bit of hope that had filled him faltering as he dug his nails deeper into his palms.

    “This isn’t funny, [y/n]. Don’t…” He paused, “don’t fuck with me like this.”

    You could feel something pluck at your heartstrings, “I’m not-”

    “You're just… you're gonna fool me into thinking that there's something real here and then- then you’ll just laugh at me along with the whole school at the freak who thinks he’s in love with you-”

    “Connor, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

    “Why would you actually like me? Why should you like me?” His voice broke, “fuck, I knew this was just some sort of… pity shit, and now you’re just playing along because fuck, how can you not just smile and go along with the joke? How can you not just-”

    And then it was your turn as you ended up cutting him off, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him to you for another kiss. Desperation set in, his hands flying to your hips to your back until one hand slipped into your hair, pulling you closer, pressing your body against his own. It wasn’t clear who broke away first, but Connor pressed his forehead against your own, his breathing irregular but warm with the scent of cigarettes enveloping you.

    “Connor?” You said in a soft voice. He didn’t speak, only making a soft hum in acknowledgement. You continued, “don’t disappear again. Promise?”

    He still didn’t speak at first, before the word came, unexpectedly soft compared to the roughness that was Connor. “Promise.”