#connor murphy reader insert

12:23 AM   connie: you still awake? 

12:26 AM   connie: babe.

12:35 AM   connie: i’ll be home soon, ok?

12:36 AM   connie: traffic is weirdly fucking awful rn and i wish you were here

12:37 AM   [y/n]: sorry, i’m here. i was almost asleep.

12:38 AM   connie: sorry

12:39 AM   [y/n]: make it up to me <3

12:39 AM   connie: i will

With a quiet hum, you left your phone back on the nightstand where it had been charging up until the vibrations against wood had pulled you out of your state of near-slumber. Connor rarely worked late, but sometimes he was roped into cleaning more than just the bar itself. It was temporary, he told you over and over. Eventually, he’d get his stupid book of stupid poetry (his words, never yours) and maybe he could go from there. Write more books, make things work, and one day he’d be staying at home and writing poetry while you continued to be the breadwinner once you were out of school for good (your words, occasionally his). Sure, working in an office when you weren’t swamped with classes and making pretty okay money in the meantime hadn’t been your plan originally, but... things happen. Life changed. Connor was a constant for you, though. True to the promise he made to you almost six years ago at eighteen, he never disappeared again. Not the way that he had used to. Sure, there were fights, and he would leave you alone in the living room while he shut himself up in the bedroom and dealt with the flow of emotions that rammed through him, but things worked out. On the worst nights, he’d come back out to find you asleep on the couch, and he’d end up waking you up and the two of you would fix things. He opened up to you, slowly and surely, and things worked. It was hard, certainly, but... the two of you made it work. 

And now you were lying in bed in the little apartment that you shared, waiting for him to come home from bartending (Connor Murphy, working in customer service? You never could fully believe it, but he managed) and to climb into bed next to you, and maybe the two of you would talk until you fell asleep. 

The sound of jingling keys from the living room caught your attention almost half an hour later, followed by the slamming of a door, and then heavy footsteps. Before you could call out to him, Connor came in through the door, fighting his way out of his shoes, his jacket, his jeans, and soon enough he threw himself directly into the space next to you. For a moment, he was hardened by whatever bullshit he’d faced during the day, but one look at you was enough to soften his gaze.

You sat up, reaching out to brush his hair from his face. “Long day?”

“The fucking worst.”

Despite the aggravation in his voice, you chuckled. “You wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head, hopping back up. “It’s stupid shit,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.” But he paused before he could move away, dipping forward to press a kiss against your lips. “It’s fine,” he said again. “I promise.”

As he walked away, you merely watched as he began to strip out of his clothing before changing into a faded band t-shirt that often was used by one of you as a sleeping shirt. You admired him for a moment. Six years ago, he was... thinner. Bonier. Ever since things had shifted between the two of you, he’d put on a bit of weight (enough to become less of a bean-pole and more... okay) and he generally seemed brighter, if you were honest. Maybe that was what getting out the Murphy house did for him. He’d cut his hair, although it still stayed long enough to hang in his face if he wasn’t careful. As much as you missed the long locks, you were happy. He’d begun taking care of himself. He had his off days, and you knew that, but he seemed to genuinely be trying for you, and he was trying for himself, too. 

“You like the show?”

You couldn’t help but snort. “Maybe I do,” you reached toward him, doing grabby hands. “C’mere,” you whined quietly. “I wanna cuddle.”

He scoffed at the notion, but climbed into bed next to you a moment later nonetheless. Instead of folded into your arms, he pulled you closer, wrapping himself securely around you, cocooning you in his warmth. The faint smell of his cologne still stuck to him, and you happily buried your face in his neck before pressing a soft kiss against his skin.

“Sometimes,” his voice vibrated in his chest, and although you went to move, he kept his hold on you. So you relaxed into him, and he continued, “I think about when we got together.”

“Mmhm?”

“I was dealing with a lot,” he said, lowering his voice. “Fuck, you know how many problems I had, and...” He paused for a moment, nuzzling his face into your hair just for a second. “And I’m glad I got help.” He corrected himself barely a second later, “I’m getting help.” When you didn’t respond, he continued on, “I’m glad it’s working.” 

“I am, too,” you admitted against his skin, and he hummed in acknowledgement. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He ran a hand up and down your back, and the motion soothed you slightly. “I was scared I was depending on you entirely,” he shut his eyes. “I thought that if you weren’t here, I couldn’t be happy. But... I got better,” he said. “I’m better. I have... friends,” he said after a moment of hesitation. “I’m writing. I’m not fucking paranoid all the time. But...” He drew away from you, hands reaching up to cup your face, smushing your face slightly. “I do have you. I’m glad you stayed.”

“Someone’s sappy tonight,” you pulled a hand away. “I’m glad you stayed, too.” 

“Sometimes I think I don’t deserve you,” he said, and the air grew tense for a moment. He... wasn’t being sappy, he was being honest. “But, I think... I think now I’ve learned that even with my bullshit, I... I think I deserve good things, sometimes.”

“You do,” you reached up to trail a thumb along the apple of his cheek. “Just because you fucked up and got angry at people and dealt with a lot doesn’t mean you’re not worth loving.”

He chuckled, and he said your name gently. “No wonder you’re trying to become a therapist.”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead against his own for a moment. “I wanna help people,” you said. “I wanna help teenagers like you who needed it. I didn’t give up on you then, and I don’t want to give up on my future patients.”

“Even if you’re not what they need?”

“Especially if I’m not what they need,” you said. “I’ll find them someone else. Just because I can’t help them wouldn’t mean that I can’t help them find someone who can.”

There was softness in his eyes as he kissed you gently. No more scent of cigarettes and the taste of smoke (he’d given that up long ago, just so he could have longer with you), but he still held the same warmth he did the first time you kissed. “I love you.”

So you settled into his arms after giving him one last kiss. “I love you, too, Connor.”

-

So... I’d like to take a moment to talk, since, uh, it feels right to. 

I started writing musical reader inserts back in 2017, shortly after my 17th birthday, and the first one I wrote was a Connor Murphy fic titled “Promise.” Which... is why I feel that this is a fitting ending for my writing. I don’t remember the last fic I wrote for this blog, but I never felt completely satisfied in saying “I’m done writing reader fics for musicals” since... nothing felt like an ending. 

Of course, I’ll still sorta be lingering around this blog if anyone wants to DM me or send in an ask, but I’m not gonna write anymore. I sorta stopped once I got to college since I didn’t exactly have the time to do it as often anymore (and I sorta lost interest in writing for musicals, actually, since I do write elsewhere sometimes), but... that’s beside the point.

A... lot has happened since I posted that first fic. I dated someone for the first time, ended things with them, and then I fucked up majorly with some things that happened afterward. I’m still atoning for it, and maybe I never will fully do so, but it’s one of my deepest regrets. Of course, I’ve... learned I’m not the only person at fault in the situation (more like I was manipulated, but I’m not going to deny my own part there), but I think coming to the realization that I wasn’t alone there... helped. I lost a few friends, and I kept everyone else for the most part. For a really, really long time, I always wondered why. I had fucked up so majorly, I couldn’t comprehend why my friends stayed with me.

And... It’s because we love each other. I fucked up, sure, but... they knew who I was as a person. These people didn’t abandon me because they saw me for who I am. I explained what happened, I showed anger and frustration and melancholy for everything that I (and the other person at fault) had done, and... they weren’t going to cast me out in my hour of need. I had made the group chat we all met in, and I tried to take an interest in everyone as best as I could. I became a different person when I was with my ex, and... and I never want to be that person ever again. I was petty, and spiteful, and when I look at who I became, I realize that I’d been changed for the worst. I like to think I’ve gotten better, and maybe that’s because of the stupid fucking trauma making me realize my place. 

But... I love my friends. I love them so, so much. I don’t think I’d still be here if it weren’t for them. It’s been a pretty wild ride, and I’ve written so much for these fandoms (although admittedly not in recent years) but... I’m proud of what I have done. I love writing so, so much, and it’s always going to be a part of who I am, no matter what route I end up taking. While I can look back on some of my writing and laugh because it’s cringe-y and clumsy and I’ve definitely improved, it’s still something I did. 

Even if this post doesn’t get a single note, I’m... still proud of what I’ve done and how far I’ve come, and I thank anyone reading this for coming with me on this journey. Please, take care of yourselves. Be kind. It’s okay to have bad days: even flowers need a little rain to grow. 

But most importantly: love yourself and love the people that want you to be better. 

Thanks, gamers. Feel free to hit me up anytime.

“I’m up for it.” You shrugged, looking to see Connor’s reaction to Jared’s extreme escalation of the bet.

“You’ve got one dirty mind, Kleinman. But hey, why not?” He returned your shrug and gave you a half smile, a blush still lightly dusting the tops of his cheeks.

“Not official until you two shake on it,” Jared piped up again, waiting for you and Connor to make it official.

You stuck out your hand and Connor met it, shaking firmly. Winking at him as you pulled away the bell signaling the end of lunch sounded.

“Good luck studying tonight Connor. You’ll need it.” You waved goodbye to Connor and Jared, a renewed spring in your step as you walked to you History class.

Third period came and went, and soon enough you found yourself sitting in your Literature classroom, waiting for both Connor and the quiz.

“Ready for that lap dance,” Connor whispered, sliding into his own chair. You flushed a bright red and tried to compose yourself before opening your mouth to reply.

“What did you do, read the summary of the book online?” You managed to stutter out a whispered reply as the teacher began passing out the tests.

“Yep. I’m so going to pass this,” Connor laughed, pulling out a pen as time began.

You turned to face him as soon as the papers were collected, ready to gauge his reaction and hopefully be told that there was absolutely no way he could’ve passed. Luck was not on your side however, as you were met with a wide grin and three words: “I definitely passed.”

Lowering your head to rest on your desk you prayed that somehow Connor was bluffing - maybe he only wanted you to think you had lost the bet in order to slowly torture you until the results were handed back.

A dull thud on your desk signaled the return of your papers. Thankfully the teacher had marked them within a couple of days, so you didn’t have to withstand Connor’s - or Jared’s - teasing for very long. It seemed as though every single second they spent within your earshot was used to tease you; whether it was Jared gyrating his hips whilst maintaining direct eye contact with you or Connor winking and sticking out his tongue every time he caught your eye.

Connor kept you in suspense, keeping the top right corner of his paper folded down, shielding the mark from you. The way he shook his leg, however, perhaps indicated that the number inked in red was not what he was hoping for. The bell rang without incident, but as you shoved the test into your bag along with your notebook you felt the presence of someone behind you. Turning your head, you were met with the darkened eyes of Connor. He bent down, his hair brushing the crook of your neck as his lips brushed against the lobe of your ear, murmuring, “I think you might want to come over tonight.”

With that he placed his paper face down on your desk and without any glances back to you. Sucking in a deep breath you reached a hand to toy with the edge of the test before flipping it over. 64%. That bastard. The goddamn summary of the book and his amazing ability to bullshit had pushed him over the edge.

Fuck. Did you actually have to go through with it? Or was it just another joke that Jared said, and Connor had gone along with? But what if Connor actually expected you to go through with it - what if he took it just as seriously as you had, and was waiting for you. These thoughts clouded your mind during the walk from classroom to car, the drive back home and as you walked up the stairs to your room. Immediately after shutting the door you stepped towards your closet, opening the draw that contained your underwear.

It was - you supposed - the occasion you had waited for to finally get some use out of the matching lingerie set you had purchased a couple of months prior. Obviously you tried it on as soon as it arrived, and knew it complimented your figure, highlighting everything you wanted, even emphasising your favourite features. The contrast of the dark red lace against your skin made you smile - if Connor really was serious he would absolutely lose it just looking at you. You got on your knees and began digging through the pile of clothes that had accumulated on the floor of your closet. Finding the piece of clothing you were looking for you pulled it out, the black silk robe that landed mid-thigh on you, tied with a bow. It was like you were Connor’s own present.

You slipped it on, relishing the feeling of the silk against your skin as you covered up the lingerie underneath.

Am I still invited over?

You sent a simple text to Connor, unwilling to embarrass yourself in front of someone you maybe had the tiniest of crushes on.

Yes.

Your phone buzzed once: within almost a minute of you sending a text Connor had replied.

My family won’t be around this evening. See you then?

It seemed as though Connor was still as apprehensive as you about the results of a bet neither of you were initially very serious about. You thought it would only be a dollar, not something like this.

Several hours later Connor texted you once more, letting you know that both his parents and Zoe had left for the next five hours. Diving into your closet once again you extracted a coat long enough to hide the outfit you already had on. You grabbed your car keys and phone before running downstairs and out of the house into your car.

Somehow you knew the way to Connor’s house from yours, pulling into the now empty driveway and turning off the engine. In the quiet of your car you composed yourself, closing your eyes and taking in several deep breaths. Finally composing both your thoughts and emotions running rampant you left the car and headed to the front door.

Your hand hesitated before knocking against the hard wood of the door which was quickly opened by Connor, who stood there, slightly shocked.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Neither did I.” You remained in the doorway, awkwardly glancing from the floor, to the walls behind him to the figure in front of you. “But I’m never one to back down from a bet, so...” You trailed off, Connor simply opening the door wider to invite you in as a response.

“Do I need a... Chair?” Connor was much more awkward than you originally thought him to be and you smiled, glad that he felt the same way as you.

“I suppose? It’s not like I’ve ever done this before,” You followed after him as he made his way into the lounge room, sinking into an armchair as you came to a stop in front of him. “Okay, just - promise not to laugh, alright?” You closed your eyes as a wave of embarrassment washed over you; it all finally became real as you stood before him, vulnerable despite the layers of clothing that still covered you.

“Laugh?” Connor gasped slightly and a small smile appeared on his face as he continued, “Y/N I would never dream of such a thing.”

Steeling yourself you undid the buttons on your coat, letting it fall onto the floor behind you, leaving you clad in a robe that would come undone with the simple pull of a tie. Reaching into your pocket you fumbled a second with your phone, hitting play on the song you had already chosen. Taking simple steps in time with the beat you approached Connor, bending down far enough that the cleavage visible over the top of your robe was at his eye level.

“Remember,” Your hot breath tickled his ear, “No touching,” Running your teeth along his ear lobe you felt him shudder and let out a strangled breath, smirking at the very way he melted into your touch.

Standing up you turned your back to him, beginning to sway your hips in time to the music. Slowly your hands made their way up to the bow holding your robe closed, toying with the ends of the string. You pulled on it gently, watching as the silk slipped past each other, easily undoing the bow. A gasp inadvertently passed through Connor’s parted lips as the robe joined your coat on the floor, the fabric pooling around your ankles. You faced him once again and shivered under the look he was giving you; his eyes were roaming your body and darkened with lust, his fists clenched by his side in a bid to prevent himself from touching you.

Lowering yourself onto his lap you let out a shaky breath, indicative of your own nerves and anxiety. You placed your hands on his shoulders as you lean in, pressing your lips to his neck. Beginning to move your hands to rake down his chest you could feel his heart rate increase, along with the rise and fall of his chest.

As the tempo of the song increased you started to grind your hips down into his, feeling his member grow under you. Placing your lips in the juncture between his neck and shoulder you felt him jump - evidently it was a pressure point and you would not hesitate to use it.

“Fuck... Y/N...” He was unable to form a complete sentence as he threw his head back, trying his hardest to prevent himself from raising his hands to explore every curve of your body.

You ground your crotch into his even harder, eliciting a low groan from the boy sitting underneath you.

“You’re going to kill me, holy shit,” He moaned out as you ran your hands down his arms to grab his hands, leading them to be placed on your bare waist. There you let them rest, Connor leaving bruises, holding you in place as he ground his hips up into you.

“Connor!” You gasped as he took back some control despite being beneath you.

“Sorry - fuck - I just can’t control myself around you,” He groaned, dropping his forehead to rest on your shoulder. You sensed a growing wetness on your underwear as the rough material of Connor’s jeans rubbed against your inner thighs.

A hand once again travelled down his chest, this time not stopping at his waistband, delving beneath the fabric of his underwear to rub his shaft. He bucked his hips further into your touch as you gripped the base of his cock, beginning to deliver long, slow strokes.

You yelped as he accidentally bit into the soft flesh of you upper chest in order to prevent the endless stream of noises leaving his mouth and his grip on you tightened. Flicking your thumb over the head of his cock you threaded your other hand through his hair, tugging on it slightly.

“I - I’m about to cum,” Connor moaned into your skin, slightly muffled before throwing his head back. You began stroking him faster, still lightly grinding your hips as you drew him to completion. His eyes squeezed shut and lips parted even further as he climaxed - there would definitely be finger print sized bruises dotting the skin of your hips within the night.

“You’re fucking amazing, Y/N.” He managed to breathe out, relaxing into the chair as he peered at you through heavily lidded eyes.

“Time to return the favour?” He cocked an eyebrow at you, smirking as his hand snaked around to trace patterns all the way up your inner thigh.

“Oh my God!” You laughed loudly, the distant memory of the Shakespeare play you studied last year coming back. “Are you actually serious right now?” The mystery man nodded cheekily up at you, eliciting only a roll of your eyes. His eyes were still trained on you, drinking in the way you glowed in the faint light of the moon. Taking another sip of your drink you leaned on the railing. You hoped the light pouring out of the house behind you would illuminate the face of the stranger calling up to you.

“See how she leans her cheek upon her had, O that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!” Apparently resting your head on your hand had been the wrong move - he had now raised his arms up towards you and had almost convinced you he might actually be confessing his undying love for you.

“Any particular reason you have these lines memorised word for word?” You said, giggling at the rising feeling of butterflies in the pit of your stomach. You never thought that someone you had never met before quoting lines of dialogue from Shakespeare’s most well known tragedy could cause these butterflies, but hey, you weren’t one to go against your gut feeling.

He simply shook his head, arms stretched wide with a toothy grin on his face.

“Is it just so you can charm a girl you might happen to see on a balcony above you?” You quirked an eyebrow, wondering if he could even see your face.

“O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night, being o’er my head, as is a winged messenger of heaven,” He had walked closer to the house, his words able to reach your ears without his shouting.

“Will you keep this up until I quote it back to you?” You sighed, leaning slightly further over, your forearms resting on the railing as your hands dangled over the edge. Apparently this man, whoever he was, was not going to reply unless in the form of a quotation, thus prompting you to continue, in a somewhat defeated tone; “How cam’st thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?”

The biggest smile came across his face and you could hear his laughter even from three metres up. “With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out.”

“Love, huh? Well why doesn’t this Juliet’s Romeo come up here and introduce himself?” You sarcastically teased him, surprised when he almost instantaneously disappeared from your line of vision as he darted into the house. Turning around to look towards the hallway you braced yourself, simultaneously excited and nervous to come face to face with your very own Romeo.

A boy surrounded by an unruly mop of hair appeared at the top of the stairs and began walking down the hallway towards you, a lop-sided smile finding a familiar home on his face.

“Diverting from the original script never felt so right,” He said as he set foot on the balcony, hands shoved into the pockets in his jeans. He was seemed awkward without the words of Shakespeare to help, but it endeared him to you. “It’s Connor, by the way,” He reached a hand out in your direction, the movements stiff and clumsy.

“It’s nice to meet you Connor,” You grasped his hand in yours and introduced yourself. “Weird that we’re doing introductions this late in the game, considering you’ve already declared your love for me and whatnot.” The two of you were leaning against the railing, looking out over the garden.

“Would you have preferred for me to wait four days like the actual Romeo and Juliet? ‘Cause I’ll happily say the same things to you in - what? 96 hours?” His head turned to face you and you realised just how close you two were. The warmth radiating from Connor left you at a comfortable temperature as you subconsciously moved in closer. You turned your own head towards him and noticed the way he quickly glanced down to your lips before returning to look into your eyes. “Would I also have to wait 96 hours to kiss you - or can I do that now?” His voice had dropped to a whisper and you blushed at the low tone.

Instead of replying you closed the remaining distance between your lips, gently pressing yours against his. He hesitated for a split second, as if he didn’t expect you to want to kiss him, let alone instigate it. His lips were softer than you thought, although still slightly chapped, and tasted of a sugary soft drink. You felt his hand cup your jaw and you smiled into the kiss, leaning into his touch. Pulling apart to catch your respective breaths he rested his forehead on yours. Connor let out a small laugh, his thumb lightly rubbing your cheek.

“I can’t fucking believe you quoted Shakespeare to me,” You said, returning his laugh.