#deh fics

[emotionalmoss]

i wrote a drabble ! about connor murphy my fav fucked up boy :) and the way his death rippled outwards throughout the community if the Connor project hadn’t happened at all. should i post it

[princedrewwrites]

for the soulmate au prompts, 12 and treebros

the one where soulmates can heal each other’s injuries.

“You’re the fucking freak!”

Okay. Maybe that was too much.

Too much for a kid Connor didn’t know, at least. The face was familiar enough but in the way background extras in a film were familiar. Kinda generic, but could be recognised as being part of his grade if he paid enough attention.

So maybe he didn’t deserve that.

But he laughed at Kleinman’s joke. And Kleinman didn’t need the fucking encouragement.

First period was skipped in favour of going through the motions of calming down after the rush of adrenaline was gone. Go to the mostly abandoned boy’s bathroom in the art block, counting to ten and back in his head all the while like they taught in fucking kindergarten, splash water on his face if only to ground himself, and pretend nothing he did happened.

It took him over twenty minutes of hiding in the bathroom for him to realise the itch of healing cuts on his wrist was gone. A quick glance at his wrist confirmed his suspicions. Older, paler scars still littered it like a landscape, but the newer scars, the ones from only a few days ago, were gone.

Right.

Okay.

Ri-

Shit.

The only person who had touched him that morning was - was the kid he shoved. His hand brushed against Connor’s forearm and -

Fuck.

He didn’t even know the kid’s name. Something beginning with E. Ethan? Emile? Emmet?

Evan. Evan sounded like a kid in his year. And - And he had a cast on. So his arm was broken.

Right.

Connor was, intrinsically, a bad person. He knew this, had long accepted as part of him, worn the badge with - with something between honour and shame. Apathy, maybe.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t do something.

—-

He found him in the computer lab. He was the only person there, and seemed so focused on debating whether or not he should print something that he didn’t even notice Connor, even when he snatched up whatever Evan had printed off, because maybe that would help him a little.

“So. What happened to your arm?” And that was. Light. Conversational. Everything he hated about interaction.

“Oh, I um, I fell out of a tree, actually.” He was shrinking in on himself, like he didn’t even want to exist.

Connor laughed. He probably shouldn’t have, but just - he fell. From a fucking tree.

“You fell out a of a tree? That is just the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. Oh my god.”

“I know.” And he said it like he did. Like he told himself it every day.

Then Connor looked him over, looked over the kid he was meant to have as a soulmate. He was remarkable in the sense he was unremarkable, a voice in a chorus, a faded face in a yearbook, an extra in a movie.

“No one’s signed your cast,” he said, which was. Sad. He thought Kleinman would have done so, if only for laughing at his joke.

“No, I - I know.”

“I’ll sign it,” he offered, and Evan looked - surprised. Like Connor was the last person he expected to say that.

“Oh. Um… you don’t have to,” he said, looking like he wanted to look away and wasn’t out of politeness and nothing else.

“Do you have a sharpie?”

It took a moment, but then Evan was pulling out a sharpie and holding it out to Connor, who took and grabbed Evan’s arm, because wasn’t that what you were meant to do? Touch them in order to heal them?

He wrote his name in big block capitals, like he was in third grade and making a poster for the science fair. It looked a ridiculous.

Oh well.

It was his last day. The least he could do was heal his soulmate’s arm.

[deh-genderbent-the-musical]

Contact us!!

‘ello my lovelies! Mod Connor here (I’m the creator of the project- Mod Connor or Heathen, whichever you’d like to call me!) with a PSA or whatever!!

Our contact info, and the official CastingCallClub page so you can audition!! Isn’t it exciting? I’ll put it under the cut, just in case.

https://www.castingcall.club/projects/dear-evan-hansen-genderbent-e31370d1-aea9-4ad3-a5f2-789be4e0b4e4

[email protected] (That’s me, Mod Con)

[email protected] (that’s Mod Zoelle, the one who’ll usually be making posts at my request) or @zoelle68 (our lovely secondary artist)

[email protected] or @maysartcorner (our main artist!)

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3ixKEamP2Gdce-Vyc76Sjw?view_as=subscriber (That’s the YouTube- it’s empty right now, but we’ll add to it if @maysartcorner makes speedpaints or streams her doodling! Until then, you’ll have to patiently wait for an Evie song)

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCtN6nGS--dkzN18GbWAdL9A?view_as=subscriber (That’s my YouTube channel- I do covers, sometimes crappy art, and uh... Mostly covers, actually. And bootlegs. *wiggles eyebrows*)

http://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyHetalianGuitarist (That’s my AO3 account- I’ll write fanfiction of my own for this project, but I can make a work for submits too, if you guys wanna write for us!)

and the rest of the vocal cast is on the CCC page- PM us if you really want to know who they are but don’t have a CCC account to see them with. I’d rather not give out their info if I don’t have their permission. ^w^ Right now, we’ve got me (I’ll be playing Karliah/Connor), Rosa (Evelyn/Evan) and Pears (Jennifer/Jared), so please go out there and audition! And tell all your musical trash friends about it too! ^w^ We hope to talk to you soon! 

<3 Stay safe, and remember: You are not alone. (Mod Con also struggles with many problems, but because I don’t think I should go into detail, I’ll leave it at that. If you ever need a friend, Mod Con’s your gal!)

[aloserwaitingtobeseen-blog]

Overworked - Connor Murphy x Reader

REQUESTED

Idea: Connor x reader fic where the reader is overwhelmed with works and is making them self sick by trying to get all the work done and they get REALLY sick and Connor helps them relax and take a break

Warning: None 

Word Count: 1k

In some ways, you and Connor were completely opposite, which isn't technically a bad thing. It just means sometimes you struggle to understand one another but you make it work regardless. Connor isn't the most studious person; he often skips lessons and work because he simply can't be bothered. On the other hand, you constantly try your best and complete everything the teacher sets. So, when your weekends are clogged up with homework Connor doesn't understand why. He sometimes gets annoyed claiming that you are 'ignoring' him. And that couldn't be further from the truth.

It was one of those weeks where teachers decided to simultaneously set loads of work for you to do. Often, homework would not be a problem when spaced out or in small batches. But when you have a stack of paper and booklets it causes your mind to melt. Every day you came home and completed a few things only for the next day to be stockpiled with more mountains of work.

Connor had text you late Saturday morning to ask if you were free. However, he received no response which was fairly worrying. You usually answered him straightaway or at least told him you were busy and could talk later. Sighing he tried to call you, but it went straight to voicemail. Growing impatient he decided to just go to you instead.

A quick five-minute drive and he had arrived at your house. There were no cars in the driveway, so he knew your parents were out. Connor jogged up to your front door and knocked loudly. He knew that the sound could be heard from your room so waited for an answer. But, it never came. Connor knocked again a little louder trying not to annoy the neighbours. Pursing his lips, he grabbed the door handle and turned it. Fortunately, it was unlocked so he pushed it open and walked inside embracing the quietnesses of the house. Slipping off his shoes and shutting the door he listened for you. But there was no trace of you downstairs. Frowning he made his way up to your room knowing you had to be there.

The bedroom door was slightly cracked open, and Connor could see you at your desk. He pushed the door open and it scraped against the carpet loudly, however, you didn't notice the new presence in your room. Shaking his head at your obliviousness Connor walked over and placed a warm hand on your shoulder. The sudden movement elicited a shriek from you and you turned quickly to face the intruder. "You gave me a heart attack!" You exclaimed slapping Connor on the chest and puffed out your cheeks whilst spinning back round to your desk. "Come on, let's go get early lunch or something." He offered, sighing you shook your head and motioned to the piles of work in front of you. The desk was drowning in sheets of paper and pens were messily laid out on top of them. His eyes went from the desk back over to you and noticed that you weren't like yourself. "You look like shit," Connor stated bluntly. Your hair looked a mess. Your eyes were puffy and had bags under them, your skin was more pale than usual and you were dressed sloppily. "How charming, you just come over to insult me?" You asked raising an eyebrow at your boyfriend. Judging by his expression, you could tell he wasn't happy.

Connor ran a hand through his hair and took a seat on your bed just observing you work. He watched as your eyes flicker from being open to shut often and how you were chewing your lip roughly. "Stop working and look at yourself, you are not alright." Connor blurted out, his voice pierced the silence of the room which startled you. He was right. Your head was pounding, hands ached, eyes were sore, throat tight and your muscles were weak. But you needed to finish everything before you could rest properly. Connor had made his way back over to you and wrapped his arms around your torso. He softly snugged his face into the crook of your neck, the warmth of his embrace already soothing you. "Please take a break, come cuddle with me, I don't want you to hurt yourself." Connor pleaded, he was resilient and wouldn't give up until he had his way, sighing loudly you nodded. He quickly scooped you up from the chair and carried you to the bed. He lightly placed you on top of the duvet and watched as you curled up into a fetal position. As soon as you laid down on the bed your body immediately relaxed and melted into the softness of the duvet beneath.

Connor quickly ran downstairs to grab you a glass of water, a chocolate bar and some medicine just in case you wanted it. He jogged back up to your room and smiled when he saw you hadn't even tried to move. Connor placed everything on top of your bedside table, and you mumbled a soft thank you with a small smile on your face. You reached out for his hand which he grabbed and allowed you to pull him onto the bed. Laughing softly he wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your shoulder. Connor hummed your favourite song and whispered how much he loved you as you cuddled with him. The gestures making you feel at ease and calm, all the stress just pouring out of your body. It was easy for you to fall asleep when he was with you. Connor provided amazing comfort and care all the time. And you were incredibly grateful for him taking care of you.

[lost-in-the-in-between]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The Kleinsen Fake Dating AU that no one asked for.

[dear-galileo]

connorxevan, okay so evan and connor are dating but connor still tries to ya know commit suicide and evan goes to visit him in the hospital and all that, pls give me angst

Here we go!! Um,,,, its painful to write angst for these boys not going to lie. They deserve all the happiness in the world!!!!!! Protect them!!!!!!

(just a note i kinda had them lowkey not be out to anyone? Like only zoe knows that the two are dating) (also i couldn’t resist making jared a side character)

—–

It was Zoe who called him. Evan had missed the first call. His phone was on silent, and was face down because Evan was reading. When he had finished the chapter, Evan picked up his phone. There was a missed call from her from about 10 minutes ago, but before he could call back, she called again. Panic started to slowly rise within Evan, but he pushed it down as he answered the call.

“H-” He started but Zoe cut him off.

“Connor is in the hospital,” Her voice was rushed, and out of breath like she was running somewhere.

“W-what?” It was like someone had punched him, all of the breath in his lungs was gone.

“He tried to kill himself-” Zoe let out a sob. “Evan, he’s in the hospital. Get here as soon as you can.”

Evan didn’t know how he ended up at Jared’s front door, but all he knew was that Jared had a car, and Jared wasn’t two inches away from a panic attack so he could drive. Evan pounded on the door again, barely registering the pain in his fist.

The door whipped open revealing an annoyed looking Jared.

“What the fuck do you want, Hansen?” Then Jared seemed to notice the tears that was currently running down his face. “Evan? What is wrong?”

“C-can you drive m-me?” Evan knew he was stuttering but he could do nothing to control it. His whole body was shaking.

“Where?” Jared had already grabbed his keys and stepped outside. Evan followed him, and climbed into the car.

“The hospital.”

“The fuck? Evan what is going on?” Jared started the car and pulled out of the drive way.

“Connor is in t-there.” Evan’s voice cracked, and he pinched the inside of his left arm.

“Shit man.” Jared went quiet. “Is he like your boyfriend or something?” Evan felt too tired to lie about it anymore.

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

The rest of the car ride was silent.

At the hospital, Jared made sure that Evan got to the Murphy family. Zoe stood up as he rushed in, and hugged Evan tightly. Evan hugged back, trying to stabilize his breathing.

“You can go to see him. He’s sleeping right now.” Zoe whispered, her voice weak. “Room 201.”

Jared stood awkwardly as Evan pulled apart from the embrace.

“I can just stay here, call your mom and if you need a ride home…” He trailed off. Evan nodded at him, not trusting his voice.

Room 201 wasn’t that far away, he only had to turn 2 corners. The door was slightly open, and from the window in the door Evan could see his boyfriend sleeping on the bed. He looked slightly paler than usual, but other than that it looked like he was just sleeping. Evan very slowly opened the door, but it still creaked loudly. Connor shifted, and sleepily opened his eyes.

As Evan stepped into the room, all it took was one look at Connor for Evan to break down again. His face crumbled, and he sort of stumbled towards the hospital bed. Connor looked at him, silent.

“I missed the first call.” Evan spoke finally, the few walls that he had left breaking. Connor moved over in the bed, making room for Evan. Evan climbed in, and placed his hand on Connor’s cheek. He was crying again. Connor crinkled his eyebrows, and bit his lip.

“I’m sorry.” Connor started, but Evan shook his head.

“Don’t- just, please.” Connor wasn’t crying but Evan was, his breath coming in ragged short whispers.

Connor pulled Evan close, and kissed him on the forehead.

They could make it through this.

[connormuffin]

insert generic and cliche love story

this one’s for @ghosts-love-gays. Jessica you’re so valid (and GOOD AT EVERYTHING, HOW??) 

read on ao3

flower shop/tattoo parlor au 

Evan’s like. Seriously regretting actually listening to his therapist’s advice. 

He’s sitting in a tattoo shop, glancing around nervously and waiting for the manager to call him into his office for a job interview. 

He’s hoping he doesn’t get the job. Really hoping. He doesn’t think he can handle big, meaty guys coming in to get another tattoo on their already-inked-everywhere skin, but his therapist had insisted he at least apply for the job. Push his boundaries, or whatever other crap his therapist said would help with his anxiety. 

Frankly, Evan’s not sure that’s ever going to happen. His anxiety is like. Part of him, or whatever. He’s pretty sure it’s the reason he never actually got around to hurting himself, despite thinking so much about it. 

So yeah. Taming his anxiety seems like a bad idea, even though it’s the same anxiety that stops him from eating most days, forcing him to stay up and listen to the sound of his stomach rumbling. It’s a wonder his roommate hasn’t like. Complained about him by now. 

He’s pretty lucky in the roommate department, he tells himself. 

The manager opens the door, nodding at him to enter. Evan gathers himself slowly, scared of looking stupid before the interview’s even begun. 

He takes a deep breath before entering the office, willing his hands to not be sweaty. 

Here goes nothing. 

Working as a receptionist is tough, but it’s not as tough as he’d feared it would be. For the most part, people don’t call to schedule appointments; they just walk right in or discuss with an artist about when they should come. Any calls that do come through terrify him to hell, but over time, it becomes easier to deal with. He sits at a desk and deals with people yelling at him about getting their tattoo removed, not liking their tattoo, or wanting to have one because they’re on a time crunch. 

It’s not the best, but at least it makes his therapist and his mom convinced he’s getting better. 

And then, a few months in, He walks in. 

He as in Connor Murphy. 

Connor’s in Evan’s Lit class, sits in the back, and just looks generally moody. But his long, dark hair, black-painted nails, and permanent scowl, for some strange reason, excite Evan. 

It’s funny, because Connor is everything that Evan is afraid of, but Evan still longs to talk to him. 

Connor walks in and immediately heads over to Evan, and Evan tries desperately to calm down his heart before it escapes through his chest and just. Flies away. 

“Is the manager in?” Connor asks, and Evan feels his palms get sweaty at the sound of his voice. It’s rough, and mean, but Evan finds himself liking it. 

“No,” he responds, and then, afraid of being blunt. “I mean, Alana was in but she just left a while ago because she had an um. Emergency.” 

Evan inhales, realizing slowly that his voice is shaky and his face is read, as if he’s lying about Alana’s whereabouts. His mouth suddenly feels dry and he knows it’s not really Connor’s business, but all of a sudden he feels the urge to explain that Alana was on a date because her girlfriend Zoe was going away for a few days. 

“Right.” Connor nods, drums his hands against the counter and pushes away, glancing down at Evan frustrated. “Can you let her know I was looking for her?” 

Evan nods, and doesn’t feel his heart start back up until Connor can’t be seen even through the parlor’s windows. 

It makes sense that Connor had to come back in. He hadn’t gotten a tattoo his first visit, nor had he accomplished his goal of seeing Alana. 

It’s still a shock to Evan when he sees Connor enter, and he tries to swallow the urge to bolt. 

“Hey,” Connor greets. “Is there an artist free?” 

Speaking is hard. Evan feels the way he used to back in high school when he had to order pizza on the phone because his mom couldn’t be home soon enough and he didn’t have groceries to make something with. It feels the way he’d felt when his therapist in high school had asked how he broke his arm and Evan had tried not to burst out into tears. 

But, “Sorry, there’s still another 15 minute wait,” manages to come out anyway, the same way that the pizza order used to, or how his story about falling out of a tree did. 

Connro nods and turns away, sitting in the waiting area and pulling out his phone. Evan clicks clicks clicks away at his computer, staring at the calendar of appointments and the tabs he’d been looking at before. He resists the urge to look over at Connor, fighting fighting fighting his vision until it stays fixated on his computer with a razor-sharp focus. 

It takes Connor clearing his throat three times before Evan turns away, looking at Connor to find him doing the same. “Don’t you go to this university?” he says, glancing away from Evan briefly as if afraid to be caught staring. 

“Yeah.” And then, nervous about his blunt answer, “We have Lit together.” 

Connor nods just to nod, as if unsure if Evan is telling the truth but accepting it anyway. “Yeah.” 

Evan turns back to his computer, clicking again and refusing to make a fool of himself in front of this really cute guy. 

“It’s nice you were able to find a job so close to campus,” Connor says, and Evan nods dumbly, mumbling out yeah and trying to stop himself from openly asking Connor what he was here for. 

“I work at the flower shop three streets over,” Connor mentions. “It wasn’t easy to get.” 

Evan smiles at Connor, responding with “That sounds good,” and trying to stop his heart from jump, jump, jumping out his chest. 

Connor drops the pretense of a conversation at that, letting them remain in silence until the artist is free. 

So, of course, Alana has to be a great partner and order a bouquet for her girlfriend’s return. And, of course, she has to beg Evan to grab it for her because I’m so busy, Evan, I really wish I had the time to go get it. And, of course, the florist she’s gotten the flowers from was Connor. 

Because fate really wanted Evan to embarrass himself in front of the guy he’s been staring at. 

Connor’s noticed, Evan thinks, because whenever Evan sees him around campus, Connor raises an eyebrow at him. And then Evan blushes and turns away, trying to melt into the ground. 

It’s only been a week since Connor came into the parlor, but Evan’s been hyper-aware of his presence since. 

Connor raises his eyebrow at Evan once he realizes who’s come into the shop, and Evan tries not to blush as he walks carefully over to Connor. 

“I’m here to pick up Alana’s flowers.” 

Connor’s eyebrows furrow at that. “Alana didn’t order any flowers.” 

Evan feels his palms get sweaty and wipes then on his pants, hoping Connor hadn’t seen or realized. “For- for her girlfriend, Zoe? She said she ordered flowers.” 

“I understand who the flowers are for,” Connor says, crossing his arms and once again raising an eyebrow at Evan. “What I’m saying is, there are no flowers.” 

Evan nods, feeling his throat tighten, knowing that he’s going to have to tell Alana that he didn’t get the flowers and he’s sorry he messed up he thought he could do this simple thing. 

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Connor continues at Evan’s silence. “She probably just sent you here to send you here.” 

“To- to send me here?” Evan asks, and Connor smirks. It’s such a pretty sight that Evan feels his cheeks flush just looking at it. 

“She thinks I like you and that you could like me back or whatever.” 

“Like you?” Evan says, and then, feeling himself get embarrassed at how bad that sounds, “I mean, it’s not that I wouldn’t, or rather don’t, but I don’t understand why she would, uh, deduce that, considering I never really said anything to her.” 

There’s a smile on Connor’s face as he uncrosses his arms and steps closer to Evan. “Are you free for the next two hours?” 

“Yes?” Evan says, but hating that it sounds like a question he adds, “Yes, I’m free. For longer than just two hours but you asked about two hours and. Yeah.”

He gulps. Because really, how else do you respond to a really cute guy asking you if you’re free. 

“Give me a second,” Connor says, turning to leave. 

Evan’s heart is beating fast, fast, faster, his breath is coming out in spurts. He doesn’t really understand how he’s standing here, alive and well and whole, but he is. 

He thinks his therapist would be proud. 

Connor comes back out with a messenger bag slung across his shoulder. “Come on,” he says. “There’s a theater nearby that’s playing a movie I want to see.” 

“Oh.” 

It’s not that Evan’s disappointed, it’s just that. That’s not really what he expected. Connor, as if understanding this, holds out his hand for Evan. 

“I mean, lets go on a date to the movie theater.” 

Blushing, Evan takes his hand, trying not to let his sweaty palms bother him too much. 

It’s not that hard with Connor thumb rubbing in circles on his knuckles. 

[connormuffin]

in the absence she should’ve grown used to

oh, don’t mine me. i’m just painfully adding on to @alternativelytroublesome royalty au in distress instead of writing my own. nothing to see here. 

also available on ao3

The thing is, this isn’t Zoe’s first rodeo.

She’s been here before, has opened her door to be told that Connor left, has been asked the frantic “Do you know where he could’ve gone?” and “Are you sure he didn’t give you a hint?” She’s sat through a grim breakfast where his absence is felt as strongly as the wind in storms, has stared into blank faces as everyone tries to keep themselves composed. She’s not new to this, has seen the effect of Connor running away before.

Having experienced it before doesn’t make it hurt any less.

She can’t help being angry.

She knows it’s not fair to Evan, knows that if someone had been raging all those years ago when Connor abandoned her for the first time, she wouldn’t have appreciated it. But she can’t help herself. Yelling out of anger feels like the only way to keep herself from breaking. If Zoe is yelling, she isn’t crying. If she isn’t crying, she’s not feeling hurt that the brother who’s supposed to love her and protect her from pain is the one causing it. She’s not too busy thinking about how Connor isn’t around anymore to be a good brother and laugh at the ridiculous things their mother said to her.

Instead, she can fill up Connor’s absence with a rage that takes hold of her and propels her day after day, writing letters to her parents and friends that if they see Connor they need to inform her as quickly as possible. She can scowl as Jared’s soldiers come back shaking their heads and tells them where they can check next. She can ignore Evan’s blank expression and pretend it’s not happening, Connor isn’t gone, and everyone isn’t shattered.

It doesn’t stop the ache of knowing that she has, once again, painfully lost the brother she’d only just gotten back.

It’s not like she’d been lying when she forgave Connor.

Living through that pain firsthand at such a young age, before she’d really built the resistance to not be emotionally impacted, had taught her enough. She wasn’t eager to live through his absence ever again.

When she let Connor back in, Zoe didn’t realize she was waiting. Waiting for Connor to chicken out, to run far from any affection or love or home. And then Connor had gotten engaged instead, and Zoe thought oh.

He’s here to stay this time.

She’d only just felt herself getting wrapped up in the excitement of the wedding, at the knowledge that this time Connor wouldn’t leave, couldn’t leave. This time his commitment would be binding, voluntary. Wars could be fought and battles could be lost, but Connor would never willingly leave Evan.

And then Zoe could have two brothers, brother who would never leave her to fend for herself or deal with drama alone.

It doesn’t work out like that, because all that’s left of Connor is his heartbroken fiance and an empty ache in Zoe’s chest.

It doesn’t take too long before Zoe can’t feel it anymore.