Riya

She/her ! wlw ! 16 !

[luewave-deactivated20260112]

That Summer Story

CHAPTER ONE: SUMMER HOUSE

an episode-by-episode rewrite fic of the summer i turned pretty feat. conklin!reader

summary: Back at Cousins Beach for the last summer before college, everything should feel familiar—the same traditions, the same faces, the same rhythm of days. So why is your sweet little sister suddenly turning into a heartbreaker? Your brother’s chaos is somehow becoming your problem too, and the two childhood friends you thought you could read like an open book feel strangely… off. Maybe this summer isn’t about keeping things the same. Maybe it’s about how the place you swore would never change ends up changing you.

pairing: Conrad Fisher x Reader, Jeremiah Fisher x Reader (slow burn, childhood frenemies to lovers)

warnings: swearing, written in first person, no ‘y/n’ so far, otherwise none ;)

word count:  8.4K

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a/n: reader is belly's & steven's older sister, episode could be split into multiple chapters bc those are long-ish

The coast was always a peculiar place to me. I wouldn’t say I could relate to those people who went all in on seashell décor and “life’s a beach” slogans, not in the slightest. And yet, even though I never serenaded the place the way my sister did, every time I’d been away from the shore for too long, I started to miss it. The longing came and went like a tide, but it gnawed at me nonetheless.

I’d find myself staring out the classroom window, imagining waves crashing against the sand. Or on my walk home, I’d picture the scent of beachgrass we used to dash past on our way to see who could fling themselves into the water first. Somehow, somewhere, I’d been tethered to that place, and I wasn’t sure it would ever let me go. Which, honestly, made sense. We’d been coming here every summer for as long as I could remember.

So now, on our way to Susannah’s beach house, I rolled down the window and, not going to lie, I felt… elated.

The weather is perfect, which mea–

“Uh, can you guys turn it down a little, please?” mom asked, massaging her temples and yanking me out of my thoughts.

“Gladly, Laurel,” Steven grumbled, turning the volume down. He only ever used mom’s first name when he was siding with her. I think it made him feel as official and commanding as she usually was. Which was hilarious, because, well, Steven.

He shot a look at Belly in the backseat. She promptly stuck her tongue out at him and kept singing along to the radio, just a tad quieter. Steven groaned.

“Oh, real classy. What are you, ten?” he muttered.

“That makes you eleven, dumbo,” Belly fired back without missing a beat.

“As the lawful twelve-year-old, I say both of you—quiet,” I sighed, pretending to be annoyed. Truthfully, our bickering always cracked me up.

“Ugh, whatever.” Steven crossed his arms and stared out the window. “Technically, you’re not older by a year yet.”  I had a hunch he was extra sulky because mom had let me drive us this morning. And he’d been moodier these last few months whenever the four of us hung out. I figured it had to do with him missing dad after the divorce.

Despite all his teasing about me being dad’s “favorite,” which wasn’t even true, Steven always lit up when dad took his side. And that happened pretty often to be fair. But I couldn’t blame dad for it, whenever mom, Belly, and I ganged up on the two of them, nine times out of ten we came out on top, naturally.

Soon he wouldn’t have to worry about being the lone guy in a sea of girls anymore. After all, the one thing as guaranteed as sand in your shoes and salty air in your lungs at Cousins beach house was the boys. Susannah’s sons. Our childhood crew would be back together soon.

The fuel light blinked on the console.

“We’re gonna have to stop for gas,” I told everyone. Belly’s face fell for half a second.

“No pouting! You and mom can grab some snacks while I fill the tank,” I winked. That perked her right up. She was so desperate to get to the beach house already it was practically tattooed across her forehead. Honestly, I’d half-expected her to be waiting in the driveway with her bags packed the moment I pulled in this morning.

I’d taken a quick trip to the store for some essentials earlier today. When I pulled back into the driveway, Steven was already standing on the porch, ready to cram our summer luggage into the trunk of the dingy Honda Civic.

“Jesus Christ, mom, I know you’re a writer but are you bringing a library with you or something?” he groaned, nearly herniating himself with her suitcase. Mom just laughed.

“It’s only a couple of extra outfits for special occasions, Steven, you'll be fine.”

“Right, Steve-o, what happened to all that muscle? Pretty sure I saw you flexing in the bathroom mirror this morning, Mr. Universe.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, shoving me aside.

“Oh my god, were you actually kissing your biceps? Be honest.”

He gave me a flat look. “Are you spying on me now? Gross, sis.”

“Ew, not like that. You just take forever in the shower. I needed to comb my hair.”

He smirked. “What hair? This haystack?” He spun around and mashed my head like I was a stress ball.

“Steven!” I shrieked, batting his hand away. My hair was already a cursed in-between texture, just a mess waiting to happen. Humidity made it look like those characters whose science experiment went wrong and exploded in their face.

“Don’t worry, sis,” he said with mock sincerity. “Some guys are into… whatever that is.”

“Yeah? And some girls are into trolls, so I guess you’ll be fine too.”

“Kids, please,” mom sighed. “Bug, can you check on Bean? We’re leaving in ten minutes and she’s still up there with Taylor,” she added, her brows knitting together. Lately, even with things she looked forward to, mom carried a quiet weight. When she laughed with us, it wasn’t entirely free, it felt like a student forcing themselves to enjoy a party the night before finals. I guess the divorce with Dad had left its mark even on such a strong woman. That familiar pang hit my chest.  I swallowed it down. At least she was in a good mood, she was calling me her Bug again.

Actually, I knew for a fact that she was glad we were taking this trip. Summer always seemed to bring out a different side of her. Around Susannah, she could breathe again, as if the years of stress slipped off her shoulders, if only for a little while, and I loved seeing her like that.

Nodding, I  bolted into the house and upstairs to the room Belly and I shared. I could hear her giggles all the way from the first floor. Taylor had come earlier to help Belly pack, which was perfect. As much as I adored her, the boundless excitement often left her easily distracted and us, in turn, constantly late. Taylor balanced her out.

We had been friends since we were little girls. It was a combination that just…worked. Belle with her constant curiosity and infectious positivity, Taylor with her no-nonsense, ride-or-die confidence, and me…well, I guess I brought something into the mix too. Being two years older never mattered. Age doesn’t matter between friends–what mattered was sisterhood, and Taylor had always felt like that. Like family.

“…You want his tongue in your mouth, you dirty little slսt,” Taylor’s voice rang out as I pushed open the door.

“How scandalous…” I said monotonously theatrical,  and smirked at Belly as I entered.

“Shut up, Taylor,” Belly rolled her eyes, a bashful smile tugging at her lips.

“Mom told me to come get you. My stuff’s already in the trunk, and Steve-o’s pissed she picked me to drive us today. We’re leaving in ten, and your suitcase is still–” I looked at it pathetically lying on the floor, underwear and swimsuits spilling out between bright t-shirts. “–a total work in progress. Come on.”

I moved to the wardrobe and started folding the shorts I knew Belly loved, setting them aside.

“Wait, you’re coming too?” Taylor glanced at me, holding a bright pink dress that was definitely hers and that she was definitely going to put in Belly’s bag. “What happened to your plans to stay here for the summer and work? I thought we’d finally have some time to hang out here.” Her frustration was clear. I looked down, a little guilty.

“I know, I… I really thought so too, Tay. But mom–don’t ask me why–she really insisted I come this time.”

“True,” Belly chimed in while tucking in her toiletries. “She even guilt-tripped her about last summer when she skipped Cousins to work at dad’s school and then the fact that she’s leaving for college, now that..that was the final blow.”

“Sorry,” I mouthed to Taylor. She sighed and shrugged. I could see she wasn’t angry–just a little disappointed.

“Have you seen my striped sweater?” Belly asked suddenly. I shook my head. She darted out of the room, calling for mom in search of it. I stayed behind, folding the rest of her clothes into neat little squares so her bag would actually close.

Taylor flopped onto the bed, kicking her feet. “So,” she said slowly, “How about you? Any lucky person putting their tongue in your mouth this summer?”

I grimaced. “Please don’t say it like that. It makes me want to throw up my breakfast.”

She snorted. “What, you’d prefer ‘sharing a magical first kiss under the fireworks’? You’re such a buzzkill.”

“Better a buzzkill than gagging at the thought,” I muttered, tucking another T-shirt into place. 

Taylor tilted her head, studying me in that way that always felt like she was peeling me open, layer by layer. “You can roll your eyes all you want, but you’re not fooling me. You care. You just won’t admit it.”

I looked up at her, deadpan. “No. I don’t care. Crushes are like… the flu. Everyone catches it, everyone acts miserable, and eventually it goes away. I’d rather not.”

That made her laugh. “God, you sound like a grandma. You’re seventeen, not seventy. Don’t you ever want to… I don’t know, try? C’mon, when is the eldest Conklin gonna get to first base?” She wiggled her eyebrows, eyes brimming with mischief, and grabbed something from the clothes pile on the bed, tossing a red piece at my face. I caught it and realized it was a bikini top.

“Dunno. I don’t think I even want to,” I said. “And I doubt I’ll have time for that anyway. I’ll probably sign up for some part-time job at Cousins and help around the house like usual. You know how it is with that lot. And it’s the last summer before college, so…”

Taylor rolled onto her stomach, chin propped on her hands, eyes sparkling like she had me cornered. “Bull. You’re sooo full of it. You act like you’re above it all, but you just don’t put yourself out there. You’ve been busy being a good student, a good daughter, a good sister for so long you don’t even let yourself be a little stupid. Or just… yourself.”

Before I could think of a comeback, she sat up and rummaged through her tote, pulling out a bottle. She held it out to me. “Step one. You always complain about your hair, right? This’ll help. Self-care doesn’t bite. And I did ask Lucinda for the best possible option for your hair type.”

I blinked at her, and a reluctant smile twitched at the corner of my mouth. “Are you seriously product-pitching a conditioner to me right now, Tay?”

“If that’s what it takes. Come on, you deserve more than folding everyone else’s T-shirts and doing the summer reading, you always are stuck doing that. But this summer…why not change it up? You said it yourself, you’re off to college soon. Maybe a hookup or two? Who cares! You just…You don’t let yourself enjoy things.”

She grabbed the bikini top she’d thrown at me earlier out of my hand and held it up in front of my torso. I recoiled instantly. “Absolutely not.”

“Exactly,” she said, catching my hesitation. “That’s why. How will you know if it feels right? How will anyone notice the real you if you don’t try finding her? How will you even figure out what you like if you never take a chance? It's about damn time you ditch those sport swimsuits Laurel got you when you were fourteen.”

I sighed, feeling the corners of my resistance soften. It wasn’t that I suddenly realised I wanted to go on dates and have makeout sessions, but Taylor’s face was so earnest, so stubborn. A giggle slipped out before I could stop it.

“Fine,” I said, groaning. “I’ll… try.”

Taylor squealed and threw her arms around me. “See? I knew there was hope. My grumpy little cynic is finally cracking.”

I groaned into her shoulder. “You’re insane.”

“Obviously.”

“Love you, Taytay,” I muttered, mushing my face against her shoulder.

“Duh, I’m the best.” Her laugh was soft and affectionate. She cooed obnoxiously, pinching my cheek and pulling back. “For the eldest of the bunch, you’re such a baby.”

I laughed, nudging her. “Don’t tell the others.”

She smiled “Promise.”

“Promise me you’ll all be better about helping out this summer,” mom said from the backseat, her voice the kind that didn’t need to rise above conversation to make everyone sit straighter. “I know since Bug’s here this time it won’t be as bad as last year, but still… don’t just dump your dishes in the sink—use the dishwasher. And no leaving candy wrappers or wet towels lying around. And not just your own, Steven.”

Beside me, Steven threw up his hands like he’d just been accused of grand larceny. “What? But I—”

“I want you to be good houseguests,” mom cut in, calm as ever.

Steven slumped back with a groan. “Mom, Susannah’s rich. Like, maids-and-butlers-rich. Don’t they handle that stuff?” His voice tilted smug.

I smacked his knee before mom could. "You sound like a spoiled brat.”

“Ow!” He winced, clutching his leg like I’d broken bone. “Traitor.”

In the rearview, I caught Belly’s mouth twitching, the corners curling despite her best effort. We all knew how mom got about money. The fact that Susannah had it in spades and we didn’t sit heavy with her, especially when we were staying over.

“Just… be considerate. Act like I raised you right,” mom said, her sigh filling the car. “Steven, that means don’t stay out too late.”

Steven’s head thunked dramatically against the seat. “Why am I the only one getting roasted?! I’m too old for a curfew!”

“Wait, what about me?” Belly perked up, eyes suddenly shining. “I don’t get a curfew either, right?”

Mom shot her a look in the mirror that translated to don’t push your luck.

“What do you need a curfew for? You don’t go anywhere,” Steven said, grinning wide. “Save mom the trouble.”

“Don’t be a jackass,” I muttered, giving him a side-eye.

“What?” He spread his hands in mock innocence. “And what about you, Miss Honors Classes? Oh right, you don’t even need a curfew. Too busy being b-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-ring.” He stretched the word boring until it practically squeaked.

Mom pinched the bridge of her nose. “Enough. And Belly—we’ll talk if something comes up.”

Belly crossed her arms, sulking for exactly two seconds before leaning between the seats toward Steven, her voice syrupy sweet. “Oh, and don’t forget—you promised you’d take me driving.”

“I told you I’d take you,” I reminded her, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, but you’re too… bossy.”

I gasped, mockingly offended. “Excuse me? Are yall hearing this?! The audacity!”

She tried to keep a straight face, but her mouth betrayed her, twitching upward. Even mom was biting back a laugh.

Steven leaned in like he was sharing government secrets. “She’s not wrong.”

“Both of you can walk the rest of the way to Cousins. I don’t care.” I said flatly. The grin tugging at my lips didn’t help my case.

I swung into the gas station on the edge of town. Mom and Belly hopped out for snacks while I filled the tank. Steven leaned against the hood, arms crossed, eyebrows drawn into that same tight pinch mom wore when she was annoyed.

I knew exactly what that was about. He’d gotten his license a couple months back, and every mile I drove was one less he could brag about later.

“Here.” I tossed the keys. He caught them clumsily, fumbling and staring at me like I’d just offered him a kidney.

“It’s yours for the last stretch,” I said, popping my back with a fake wince. “I could use a break.” I wasn’t tired.

His face lit up, pure sunshine. “Oh, sweet!” Worth it.

Belly came barreling out of the store, arms full of chips and candy. “Shotgun!” she shrieked, nearly colliding with the passenger door.

I helped mom with a box of sodas before slipping into the back. Letting Steven drive meant one thing for sure: summer had officially begun.

“And FYI, mom,” Belly said, chin tilted high, “I’m not a little kid anymore. It’s not this huge perk to pick out what kind of pie we get.” Ah, so whatever they’ve been talking about at the gas station—mom had used the pie flavor card. I smiled into my hand.

Mom glanced past her sunglasses. “Steven, what kind of pie do you want for the first night's dinner?”

“Strawberry rhubarb,” he said instantly, smug like he’d been waiting for the question. I tried to swallow my chuckle and it came out a little choked.

“You dick,” Belly groaned. “You know I hate rhubarb! Please can we get blueberry? It’s Susannah’s favorite too.”

I hated rhubarb as well, but when it came to Steven or Belly, I never bothered protesting. They’d just double down out of spite. And I could live with whatever pie there was.

“Bug?” Mom suddenly asked, nudging my knee. “What about you?”

“Lemon? But I'm fine with any,” I said without thinking or even looking their way.

Steven made a gagging noise. “Bitter, just like someone I know~” he said, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror, I flipped him off.

Mom hid a smile, then said, “If you come with me to Whale of a Tale, you’ll be the one who gets to decide. Otherwise, strawberry rhubarb it is.” So that’s what this was about—the book signing at the downtown bookstore. Susannah had convinced Mom she should do one for her new release.

I hadn’t read this one. The first of mom’s books I refused to touch. The copy she left for us at home still lay on my desk, unopened, its spine uncracked, the pages as crisp as the day they’d been printed. I couldn’t bring myself to lift the cover. Couldn’t even glance at the blurb on the back. Knowing what it was about from the snippets she shared before the release was enough. More than enough.

“Fine. I’ll come,” Belly huffed, as if she were doing us all some great favor. She pulled down the visor and slicked on lip balm, yanking her hair loose, then pausing with it around her shoulders like she couldn’t decide whether to tie it back up or leave it. If it were me I wouldn’t do all those things, wouldn’t hair stick to the lip balm if the window’s open and it’s all windy?

I leaned my head against the glass, watching the big rocks lining the shore, then stores and cafes of Cousins blur past. Before I knew it, we were parking in front of the house. Belly reached out and honked twice. I winced. I really disliked sharp loud noises but this is how it’s supposed to go, the ritual, our signal for the boys to come out and help with the bags.

Susannah was the first to come into view, gliding down the porch steps like a swan, or a water lily, I couldn’t decide. Something gentle, mesmerising and eye-catching. She was all soft linen and pale cashmere, hair sunlit from expensive highlights. When I was little, I thought she was the closest thing to a princess I’d ever meet. Now I was older, and I knew better—but somehow, she still carried that glow. If “second mom” was a real title, she had it. And she never let me forget she thought of me and Belly as her daughters, too.

Her face lit up as soon as Steven parked the car and mom stepped out.

“Steve-o!” Jeremiah’s voice rang out like a stadium announcer. He was already bounding down the steps, broad shoulders and sunburned cheeks, blond curls practically shining. He moved through the world like an untrained puppy, too fast, overenthusiastic but impossible not to like. I guess this is what people would call a golden retriever guy, but to me, he was more of a cocker spaniel, with his expressive eyes and floppy hair. Always so loud, so full of himself, yet somehow endearing. You couldn’t help but notice him, even when he wasn’t actively trying.

He bolted past Susannah and hugged mom so hard she laughed breathlessly, then pounded Steven on the back like they were frat brothers instead of high schoolers. He had this… energy that made you either roll your eyes or smile. I usually did both, trying to remind myself that he was harmless, though a little exhausting. Honestly, part of me secretly admired that he could fill a space so completely.

I stayed in the car, gathering napkins and soda cans from the floorboards. Someone had to make sure our car didn’t look like a dumpster if Susannah peeked inside. By the time I looked up, Belly had slipped out. Jeremiah’s eyes landed on her and widened, just for a beat. The dumbstruck kind of look boys get when they look at a girl. He blinked it away, but not fast enough.

“Look who came back all grown up!” he crowed, scooping her up and spinning.

Belly squealed, swatting at his shoulder. “Put me down, Jere!” He only did so after what seemed like five full spins.

I watched all of it from the car, suppressing a laugh. It was ridiculous and chaotic. A little much sometimes, but he made everything feel brighter, even if just for a moment. Often I couldn’t comprehend how the constant presence of someone like Jere could be handled by a person as calm and grounded as his brother.

And there he was. Conrad. He’d just turned eighteen a few weeks ago, and it showed. Taller, broader. God, had he always been this tall? His hair was shorter around the ears, still messy but neater than before. His specs weren’t perched up on his nose like they usually were. He hugged my mom, offering her one of those shy half-smiles she adored. Conrad’s smiles always felt like rare wins, like catching a lightbug. But they were teasing as well. Even when his face was straight, I swore there was always the ghost of a smirk lingering, ready to appear.

Jeremiah was the opposite—quick to grin, cheeks flushed, heart right there on his sleeve.

I lingered in the car, pretending to check my phone. The air outside was thick with salt, as if the tide had crept right up to the yard. The house looked exactly the same: white trim, grayish siding, steady against the dunes. It waited. Always waiting.

Conrad walked up to Belly, and I didn’t need to see her face to know her eyes were sparkling. All he said was that he liked her better with glasses, and I could practically hear her heartbeat announcing itself to the entire block. I let out a breath that came out half a laugh. My sister, the hopeless romantic.

Alright. Time to quit stalling. I was already here after all.

“Breathe out. It's gonna be okay. Nothing has changed.” My inner voice told me.

I shouldered my bag and finally climbed out. For a second, neither boy noticed me. Then they did.

Conrad’s eyes flicked over, quick. A double take, though I doubted that could be true. His hand, halfway to patting Belly’s head, froze in the air. He dropped it, then lifted it again, giving her a distracted friendly nudge instead. His face looked—not blank, not casual—but like something had caught him off guard. But as soon as it appeared it went away.

“You…are here,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. I wanted to say ‘duh’ because well…duh. “Mom said you weren’t coming this time.”

‘Wish she was right’ I wanted to say on instinct, but for some reason didn't. Would that be too mean? But weren't we friends? Friends can be jokingly mean with each other.  Or was I overthinking it?

Waving a limp hand, mouth tugging into a crooked smile, all I said was a lame “Hey.”

Conrad blinked rapidly. I’d always liked when he did that, it made him look both confused and focused on processing something. And almost boyish. “Hi.” He exhaled, and the corners of his mouth lifted as he stepped toward me. Then, in true Conrad fashion, he ruffled my hair like I was a pet.

“Quit it!” I swatted his hands away, huffing. He just chuckled.

“They keep multiplying,” he said under his breath, nodding at my face.

My freckles. Always my freckles.

When we were seven, a boy at the beach tried to rub at my face, convinced I was dirty. When nothing came off, he doubled over laughing, calling me a potato-head  because of the freckles, like the ‘spots on a peel’. My stomach knotted hot and mean, and before I could think twice, I shoved him straight into his sandcastle. This time, the tears on his cheeks weren’t from laughing too hard.

Mom dragged me away then, giving me one of her rare scoldings about pushing kids. My cheeks burned so hot I thought they might never cool. And when I looked back, Conrad was there, standing a little apart, watching, his head tilted like he was trying to figure something out. My face burned even hotter under his gaze. And the strange thing is, I can’t even remember the boy’s face anymore. But I remember how hard my cheeks burned.

Now, with a sideways glance at Belly and Steven, he added, “Must be a curse, being the only one to inherit those.” Classic Conrad.

“Right,” I muttered.

Before I could say more, Jeremiah swooped in, wrapping me in a hug that nearly lifted me off the ground.

“No way. Conklin Prime finally shows her face after skipping a whole summer. I was betting you’d flake again.” Jere pulled back, squinting at me like I was some rare animal. “Hold up—did you get shorter?”

I shoved at his shoulder. “I’ve always been this tall, genius. Belle’s the one who hit her growth spurt.” I wriggled free, nose crinkling. “And for the record, you smell like a gym sock left in the sun.” Sweaty.

“Same old Teddy,” he laughed loudly and proudly. 

The way he said it made me feel like I was little again, pulled straight back to that same summer of the ‘potato’ incident.

We’d been in the kitchen. The whole place smelled like toast. I was perched on one of her stools, legs swinging, cheeks sticky with orange marmalade. The jar was almost scraped clean, spoon clinking as I chased the last bit. I’ve always had a thing for citrus, very bitter and sour things—Mom liked to say I got it from my dad.

Jeremiah, grass-stained and barefoot, pointed at my mouth and cracked up.

“You look like Paddington. You are Paddington!”

We had watched the movie that weekend and Susannah made the marmalade from scratch after, for a “thorough experience”. The others weren’t really impressed but for me it was the best thing I‘d ever tasted back then.

Conrad lifted his head from an encyclopedia on ancient Egypt he had been looking at, squinting at me. Then he nodded, slow and certain. “More like a teddy.”

Steven, never one to miss his chance, grinned wide and piled on. “Yeah, teddy bear. Sticky, hairy, messy, always hungry.”

“Hey! I’m not—” I tried to protest, but it came out muffled through a mouthful of toast.

 That sealed my fate.

Jeremiah started chanting then, “Te-ddy, Te-ddy, Te-ddy!” until little Belly joined in, clapping along like it was the best name she’d ever heard.

Not even a day passed and it became as official as my real one. We were playing a memory card game on the floor of the patio as mom and Susannah shared an evening glass of white. The sun had started to sink, spilling honey across the water.

“TEDDY!” Jeremiah’s voice rang out first, high and teasing. “You cheated! I saw you—”

“I did not!” came the indignant reply. “Steven, tell him!”

Belly’s voice followed, shrill with laughter. “Cheater!”

Conrad cut through. “You all cheat. Every time.”

That sent Steven into a fit of cackling. “That’s rich.” He had just learned that phrase after hearing it on the TV. 

Jere shoved him, Steven retaliated and that caused both Belly and Conrad to be shoved as well. They started chasing each other and I stayed, gathering up scattered cards, tugging two out from under my leg with a guilty giggle. Okay… fine. I did cheat.

My mom tipped her head toward Susannah, “It’s ridiculous,” I heard her say. “Both of my daughters—...Belly is silly enough of a name and I have to thank John for that one. But Teddy—” she shook her head, almost ruefully—“it’s not even short for anything.”

Susannah’s laugh came soft and bell-bright, the kind that made people nearby want to laugh too. “Oh, but it suits her. Don’t you think?”

Mom raised her brow, skeptical but amused.

“Because,” Susannah elaborated, lifting her wineglass, eyes following the other kids as they tore across the shoreline, “She’s got that kind of heart. Teddy bear heart. Fierce like a bear, but also soft if you really look for it. You can’t tell me that isn’t her.” Her eyes caught mine then and as if I was doing something I wasn't supposed to, eavesdropping, I glanced away immediately, busying myself with the box from the game.

Mom sipped her wine, lips pressing together as she watched the others, the corners of her mouth tugging into a reluctant smile. “You’re too sentimental, Beck.”

Susannah tipped her head back, her smile dazzling even in the dying light. “Maybe. But one day they’ll be grown, and these little nicknames will be the pieces we get to keep.”

And though she didn’t say it, something in mom’s expression softened. She let herself laugh, low and fond. “God help them if those names stick forever.”

“They will,” Susannah said. “That’s the best part.”

From that day on, whenever they came tearing down the beach or storming through the house, it wasn’t my real name they called. It was always Teddy. Or some version of it.

Like no matter how much I grew, this house froze me into place.

Froze people into place.

Only, it hadn’t. 

Not Belly or Steven. Not Jeremiah. Not Conrad. And not me, either.

Steven grinned, that wicked little look he always got before causing trouble. “Hey, guys. I think it’s time… for a Belly flop.”

She yelped, bolting for the house, feet slapping against the hot pavement. She almost made it too, but Conrad snatched her around the waist, hauling her back as she squealed.

“Conrad, let me go!” she kicked, laughing and shrieking all at once.

Steven was on her legs in an instant, Jeremiah on her arms. They carried her over to the pool and swung her back and forth like she was a sack of grain.

“One, two, three—” Steven counted, and then Belly went flying into the pool with a splash big enough to soak the tiles all around.

When she came up, sputtering and pushing her hair from her face, she yelled, “I hurt my ankle, you creeps! Somebody help me out!”

I walked up to the pool quickly, hovering at the edge, squinting at her. “Good job you guys.” I side eyed them. “How much does it hurt?”

Belly blinked and mouthed something at me but I couldn’t understand.

 “What?”

Jeremiah’s grin sharpened.

“Ohhh, look who is a little worrywart,” he said, pointing straight at me. “This calls for a… Teddy toss!”

That's when my poor lip reading skills finally caught up and I deciphered that Belly was mouthing: ‘I'm joking’.

Fuck.

“What?! No. No, no, no! Absolutely not!” I stepped back fast, but Steven blocked the entrance to the house, his grin evil.

“You are way too dry,” he declared.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned, dropping my duffel bag and extending my hands to put some distance between me and them, like that was going to protect me. If anything I looked like that Jurassic World meme.

Conrad moved toward me then, silent, a shadow cutting across the grass. His mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile.

“Conrad,” I said, glaring, “don’t even think about it.”

He only raised a brow, cockily, as if I was challenging him. This motherfucker. And before I could dodge, Jeremiah lunged, catching my arm. I twisted hard, but Conrad caught the other wrist. My heart leapt into my throat as my feet were lifted clear off the ground by Steven.

“Guys, stop! I swear I’ll kill you—”

“One, two—” Jeremiah dragged it out, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

“Three!”

I panicked, hands grabbing at anything to stay out of the water, anything happened to be clutching the front of Conrad’s shirt. He let out a muffled half-groan—“Get off, you little—” but he was too late to notice and we both toppled straight into the water.

The pool swallowed us whole.

Cold rush hit me, bubbles bursting past my ears. I tried opening my eyes, the chlorine stung. For one suspended second, the chaos above felt far away—Jeremiah’s cackles, Belly’s shrieks, Steven’s muffled taunts—all dulled under the surface in some incoherent gurgles. Down here it was just the two of us, faces so close I could see the blur of his eyes, the shape of his mouth. His thumb brushed against my side. I hated it instantly, releasing his shirt out of my grip and lurching upward.

Then we broke the surface at the same time, gasping, sputtering, his hair plastered to his forehead. I guess mine didn’t look any better.

“You’re insane,” I choked, pushing wet strands from my face. My voice cracked, too breathless.

He only shook his head, water dripping down his cheeks. “You dragged me in, remember?”

Before I could respond, he shoved a hand to the top of my head and dunked me under again. I spluttered, surfacing with a gasp. “You jerk!” I coughed, water dripping down my face. I could hear his chuckle. Conrad had such an endearing laugh—for a guy who’d always seemed impossibly composed, it sounded almost too goofy and too light.

The laces of my top caught, tangling my arm, and I flailed briefly, struggling to keep afloat without thrashing. Then I felt a hand. Steady. Right at my side. I blinked away the droplets blurring my vision. Suddenly I was too aware of the situation. The way he was close. So close I could feel him breathe, arm holding me up as if instinctively, the sharp, clean scent of some cologne clinging to him.

For a suspended moment, my mind flooded with too many thoughts: since when did he use cologne? How broad his shoulders had become, the curve of his jaw stronger, the way his posture made him seem… different. Older. More solid somehow. There was a heat to the awareness, sudden and inconvenient, that this boy I had known since forever had grown into someone I wasn't as entirely familiar with as I used to. His eyes found mine.

This wasn't sensible. This moment suddenly felt like it was dragging. How long were we looking at each other? Why couldn’t I tell…

I yanked myself from him, the spell breaking instantly. “Let go,” I snapped. Turning I swam to the edge, getting out of the pool and not looking back. 

I checked on Belly. Her ankle was fine.

We dragged our feet inside leaving puddles. It was a hot day and Susannah was the best host I had ever seen, so of course she was already pouring each of us a glass of  ice cold lemonade. Over the counter my mom  was smiling at her, Susannah met her eye.

“I missed you,” Susannah whispered.

“Missed you more,” mom said, and for a second it was like they were the only two people in the house. Like Belly and I were watching something private we weren’t supposed to see.

Then Susannah turned, and her face lit up the way it always did when she looked at us. “My girls!”

Belly was the first to leap up, of course. She practically launched herself into Susannah’s arms, hanging on like a favorite plushie.

“Oh, look at you,” Susannah said, tipping Belly’s chin into the light. “Every inch of you—just a beauty. Laur, do you see this? She’s taller. She’s glowing. You’ve grown into yourself, my special girl.”

Mom’s told that story a dozen times—how dad was away for work, and when she suddenly went into labor, Susannah ditched Mr. Fisher  with the kids and rushed her to the hospital. She stayed through every agonizing minute, the first one to see Belle before anyone else. So yeah, the “special girl” thing was very real.

Belly ducked her head, blushing furiously, but I could tell she liked it, she really liked to be seen.

Then it was my turn.

“Don’t think I forgot about you, my darling, I haven’t had the chance to marvel at you last summer,” Susannah said, tugging me in. The hug felt close and lingering, the kind that made you wonder who would pull away first. She smelled faintly of gardenias and something I couldn’t place, something familiar and yet.

When she pulled back, her hands stayed on my shoulders, holding me where she could really look at me. Susannah’s eyes had always been sharp but kind, disarmingly so, in a way that unsettled me, like she saw what even mom missed. Perhaps those were the ‘eyes of an artist’.

“Oh,” she said softly, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’ve changed too.”

I tried to deflect,  feeling on the spot. “Not really. Just shorter than Belly now.”

Steven spoke up, appearing out of nowhere and leaning against the banister. “Yeah, kinda embarrassing for the eldest, huh?”

“Shut it, Beanpole,” I said, rolling my eyes, but my cheeks were hot.

Susannah ignored him. She was still studying me like I was some painting she’d forgotten she owned but now had found in the attic and felt guilty for not hanging up in the living room, or at least near the staircase. “No, not the same. My girl, when did you grow up on me?”

I didn’t have an answer for that. Moreover, something in the way she said that last part sounded almost solemn. And a little shiver rippled inside me. Did I imagine it? She must be really sad that I didn't visit last time.

So I said, half-joking, “Somewhere between applying to colleges and finals”.

A flicker in her eyes—concern, maybe—but she only smiled wider, squeezing my arms. “Phenomenal. That’s what you are. Just phenomenal.”

Belly laughed from beside me. “You sound like a movie character.”

“I mean every word,” Susannah said, turning between us like she couldn’t decide who to praise more. “My girls. Laur, we’ve raised the most beautiful girls in the world.”

Amused by the sudden cheesiness and meeting Belly’s eyes we chuckled, giving each other a small acknowledging theatrical bow as if we are contestants on Miss Universe.

Mom’s mouth twitched, she shook her head. “Don’t let it go to their heads.”

But Susannah was already hugging us again, whispering, “It’s going to be a summer you’ll never forget.”

Jeremiah strolled into the room then, grin stretching ear to ear. “Did we miss out on the love-fest?” he asked, voice sing-song. Conrad trailed behind him, his long strides almost lazy.

“Just in time,” Susannah said warmly, swooping her arm around Jeremiah to draw him in. “My handsome boys. Don’t they get taller every year, Laur?”

“Mom, stop!” Jeremiah laughed, ducking his head like he was twelve again.

“Steven, maybe,” Conrad muttered, smirking under his breath.

Steven shot him a glare, puffing up his chest. “Hey, I’m taller than you now, Fisher. Admit it.”

“Maybe in your dreams,” Conrad fired back.

Susannah’s eyes sparkled as she looked between us. “Don’t the girls look different this summer?” she said, nudging Jeremiah’s shoulder, her gaze flicking to Conrad like she was coaxing something out of him. She did this often—setting the boys up to hand out compliments for us, she wanted them to be gentlemen but the set up made it all so performative.

Conrad’s eyes landed on Belly first, then skimmed over to me. His mouth twitched. But Jere beat him to it.

“For real. Did we all agree not to tell me the Conklin sisters were coming back different this summer?” 

“Different how?” Belly asked quickly, the pink already creeping up her cheeks.

“Different pretty,” Jeremiah announced, eyebrows wagging dramatically. He even threw in a wolf whistle for good measure.

Belly bit her lip, regretting she asked.

I crossed my arms. “Ew. You need new material.”

“See, she's still mean,” he said looking at his mom, pointing at me like I’d just proven his point that complimenting us was a burden. “Can’t believe I wasted a whole summer not witnessing this transformation. Not this…” He dragged out the word like it had a hundred syllables. “Ou-ter-world-ly beauty.”

Steven, never one to miss a chance, started humming “Isn’t She Lovely” in the background, off-key on purpose. Jeremiah snapped his fingers to it like they were doing a lounge act.

“Jere Bear,” Susannah warned, though she was laughing. “Stop embarrassing my girls.”

Jeremiah clutched his chest dramatically. “But it’s my calling.”

Susannah ignored him, clapping her hands suddenly like she’d remembered a secret. Her whole face lit up. “Speaking of my girls—I have news.”

I shot Belly a look. She mirrored my confusion instantly, eyes wide.

“You two won’t be sharing a room this summer,” Susannah announced with a flourish.

Belly’s face fell. “What? Why not?”

“Wait, what?” I blinked, sitting up straighter.

“I redid one of the guest rooms,” Susannah said proudly. “Made it all yours, sweetheart.” She looked right at me, her eyes shining like she’d been holding onto this surprise for months. “It was about time. You’re both growing up. You’ll want your own space. Privacy. Even from each other.”

Mom frowned slightly, setting her glass down. “Beck, that wasn’t necessary—”

“Yes, it was,” Susannah interrupted, brushing her off with a smile. “They’re young women now. Who knows?” She winked between Belly and me. “Even sisters might want to keep a secret or two.”

Belly blushed to her hairline. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry.

“Thank you,” I said softly, though my voice came out tighter than I meant it to.

Susannah’s grin widened, triumphant. “Each one was made perfect for you. Wait until you see.”

“Boys,” Mom cut in briskly, clapping once like a coach. “Take the girls’ bags upstairs.”

Jeremiah lunged first, snagging Belly’s suitcase and swinging it over his shoulder with a flourish. “Princess service,” he declared with a wink. “Escort included.”

Belly laughed, trailing after him.

Steven grabbed his own bag, grumbling something about not being anyone’s bellhop.

I hooked my fingers through my duffel strap before Conrad could even reach for it. “I’ve got mine,” I said firmly.

“You don’t have to-,” he started, his voice low, almost careful.

“It’s not that heavy,” I cut him off, sharper than I meant to. He didn’t budge. “Let go” I said again, meeting his eyes.

For a second, he just stood there, hand half-raised, caught between insisting and letting it drop. Those two words. Finally, he lowered it, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

“Okay, Miss Independent,” he muttered under his breath.

I blinked at him, startled, because it almost sounded like an accusation. An insult. “Don’t make something out of nothing. I literally just want to do it on my own. That’s all.” The words came out too quick, too defensive, and I knew it. Did they sound harsher than I meant them to? Maybe. But I hadn’t said anything wrong.

So why did he look at me like that? Like my answer wasn’t enough, like I was supposed to follow it up with something else, anything else. His gaze pinned me in place and suddenly I felt like I was on the spot, like I owed him an explanation I couldn’t put into words. He was so frustrating.

I turned away, lifting my bag higher on my shoulder. My feet carried me up the stairs before the silence could press down any harder.Behind me, Conrad lingered. Then he sighed, raking a hand through his hair, and followed after.

Downstairs, the house quieted once our footsteps faded overhead. Susannah crossed to the boxes of soda mom bought and she started to load them into the fridge. Her smile was still there, bright as always, “They’re growing up too fast”.

Mom sighed “Don’t I know it. Steven’s practically obsessed with the gym these days, and is constantly texting someone on that phone, which makes me happy he is doing anything other than gaming or cramming. And Belly is doing well as varsity volleyball captain, she also decided to take her french classes more seriously. And,  well, you saw her. She’s… indeed glowing. More herself somehow.” Pride laced her voice, warm and certain.

“And Teddy?” Susannah asked gently, turning back toward her friend.

Mom hesitated, surprised. “She’s fine.”

“Fine?” Susannah tilted her head, unconvinced. “That doesn’t sound like you. You usually can’t stop talking about your girl.”

A short laugh broke the tension, though it sounded strained. “She’s just, I don’t know, more snappy these days, that's all. In her head. But she always has been.”

“She seems troubled,” Susannah said, carefully choosing the word.

Mom frowned, shaking her head. “She’s not troubled. You know Teddy, she’s the least trouble-inducing out of my herd. Maybe it’s the senior year of high school, you know? She’ll be off to college in the fall. And you know her, sometimes it takes her a while to fall in step with everyone else.”

“Did she want to come?” Susannah’s voice was soft, but it cut straight through the air. “I believed she didn’t, even told my boys she won’t be here this time as well.”

Stiffened, she was caught off guard. “Of course she did.” Then, after a beat, quieter, “She needed a little push, that’s all. Teenagers, you know how it is.”

Susannah’s smile dimmed. She set her glass down, folding her hands in front of her. “There’s a difference between a push and a shove, Laurel.”

Mom bristled, then exhaled through her nose, shoulders sinking. “I didn’t force anyone.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” Susannah said, her tone softening, her eyes bright with something close to pleading. “But kids remember how they feel in a place, not just what they did there. If Teddy walks through that door carrying something heavy, she needs to feel like she can put it down. Here. With us.”

Glancing away, mom stared at the pale spill of sunlight through the curtains.

“I hate when you’re right,” she muttered, though there was the ghost of a smile tugging her lips.

Susannah’s answering giggle was gentle, like the clink of glass in her hand. “That’s why you keep me around.” There was a small hush after. Then she tilted her head, studying. “And college? Has she decided yet?”

Mom waved a hand, as though batting the question aside. “Not exactly. She’s circling a few ideas and her grades are great as always, I’m not worried at all. There’s time. Conrad?”

Susannah’s smile softened. “Brown. He’s thinking Brown.”

Another beat of silence, like dust on an untouched shelf. The unspoken truth passed through both of them—this was the last summer when all of the kids were still kids.

Susannah’s eyes drifted to the mantle, to the neat line of picture frames standing proudly there. The seashells and sand clumsily glued onto the sides disappeared slowly from the oldest to the newest ones. Each one capturing a different year: tanned faces, missing teeth, sun-bleached hair, arms thrown around each other in lopsided embraces in front of the house on the deck. A record of time stretching over a decade suddenly felt too short.

The photo from the summer before last still carried the haze of childhood. Conrad and Teddy were sixteen then, Steven and Jeremiah fifteen, and Belly fourteen. Jeremiah’s braces flashed bright, his hair slicked down too carefully, he hadn’t learned how to take care of his curls yet and didn’t care to do so. He was smaller, but his grin was wide enough to fill the frame, his arm slung around Belly. She stood stiffly beside him, all angles and awkwardness—glasses sliding down her nose, shoulders hunched, braces catching the light. The camera had caught her mid-look, gaze tipped toward Conrad with unguarded admiration.

Next to her, Teddy looked no less reluctant. Her posture slouched, shoulders drawn inward, as though she were trying to disappear from the lens. The summer sun had scorched her cheeks and shoulders that year, leaving them blotched and red, not to mention the bangs that did her no favors. Her shirt hung wrong, too loose, as if borrowed, and the whole of her seemed caught in that in-between stage where nothing fit. But Conrad’s arm lay casually across her shoulders, an easy claim that drew her into the picture whether she wanted to be there or not. He grinned at the camera, braces newly gone, cap backwards on his head, one eye squinting shut against the glare of the sun. On his other side, Steven leaned in, mouth half-open mid-sentence, caught looking goofy in his bright anime T-shirt.

Beside it stood the photograph from last summer. Conrad’s smile closed-lipped but warm, his arms stretched around them all as though anchoring the group together. He looked broader and his glasses were gone, hair falling into his eyes in careless strands. Steven and Jeremiah stood side by side, braces behind them now too, both throwing up peace signs with exaggerated bravado. And Belly, tucked close at Conrad’s side, right in the middle of them all she beamed wide, her hair pulled neatly into two braids.

Mom followed her gaze to the frames. “Well, at least everyone’s here this year. We’ll get a new one for the collection.” Susannah turned to her and smiled, nodding.

a/n: happy wednesday

[balletteens]

࿔ ｡ﾟinstant feelings.

Steve Harrington x girlfriend!reader. word count: 2.1k

summary: You've never been a fan of parties, but this time you felt like it could be a great idea to go with your boyfriend. Makes it even better that Steve knows you like the palm of his hand.

warnings: reader feeling overstimulated/overwhelmed. fluff and angst. use of pet names. English isn't my first language, sorry if there are any mistakes.

a/n: feel free to request for steve harrington anytime you want!

masterlist

You would have loved to be able to say that it had been a long time since you felt your heart tighten, since you felt the inside of your body heat up, since every sound and touch irritated you more than usual, but that would be a complete lie, because the last time you felt that way was just a few weeks ago.

Steve had asked –actually begged– you to go with him to Tommy’s party that day. You immediately knew the party would be a crowded house full of people drinking in a space smaller than it should be, but you decided to go anyway.

As soon as Steve’s BMW stopped in front of the house, he turned off the engine and looked at you. He had a crooked smile, his eyes closed a little more than usual, as if he were tired, but you knew him better. You knew he was trying to get you to open up, even though you had nothing to hide.

He lifted one hand, pushing back the strands of hair that had fallen across your face, tucking them behind your ear. He couldn’t help but smile wider when he saw your smile. That smile that had always been the cure for his bad days, though that was something he wouldn’t say, or at least not yet.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he said, moving his hand to your cheek, caressing it as gently as if you were made of glass.

You were about to answer, but he spoke first.

“Promise me that the moment you feel you’ve had enough and want to leave, you’ll tell me.”

His big hazel eyes begged you to do it. Those eyes you could spend hours staring into reflected worry, but above all, a love no one else could replicate.

“Promise me, baby,” he asked again, this time with more strength but somehow softer, filled with affection.

It was impossible not to think about the last time you went to a party together, a month ago. You had been nervous because you didn’t know many people, but you wanted to ignore your problems and have fun with Steve. Your solution was to get drunk, which ended with you vomiting in Steve’s bathroom while he held your hair back.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to hide a mocking smile, while he rolled his eyes but smiled anyway.

“Look at the bright side, we made more memories thanks to me,” you joked, pulling an angelic face that could always work on him.

“I’d rather make memories another way, sweetheart,” he raised his eyebrows, knowing you’d understand what he meant.

You lightly pushed his shoulder and turned to get out of the car, but his hand on your thigh stopped you.

“You still haven’t made me a promise.”

“I promise, Steve,” you said, leaving a kiss on his lips before stepping out of the car, silently begging whoever might listen that the night would go better than you expected.

But that didn’t help much.

The floor seemed to shake the moment you stepped into the house, thanks to the loud music, and your body immediately felt sticky from the warm of the crowd moving around. You let out a sigh, trying to relax, and turned to Steve, who gave you a wink, his hand resting on your waist as if he needed to make sure he wouldn’t lose you.

You didn’t walk far before running into some of his friends, to whom you gave a tight smile since you had never been a fan of them. You preferred to stay distant rather than let some stupid comment affect you.

Minutes passed slower than you expected. You spent a long time with Steve and his closest friends. While they laughed at bad jokes, your boyfriend left kisses on your cheek, temple, and shoulder every few minutes, squeezing your waist softly, letting your back rest against his chest.

For a while, you went with some of your closest school friends, catching up on everything that had happened in the past weeks.

Relatively, everything was going fine. You spent time with your boyfriend, then with your friends, and stayed calm for a while. Or so you thought, until you looked at the big clock on the wall and realized only two hours had passed. Looking around, you felt like more people had appeared between the four walls. The heat was heavier and stickier than before. The music, along with the voices, grew louder, until you could even hear the breathing of those closest to you.

You tried to sigh again, searching for calm like earlier, but this time it only made you more desperate. You thought about moving to find a quieter spot in the house, which seemed impossible. But it was even harder to tell Steve you wanted to leave when you knew he was having a good time.

Speaking of your boyfriend, minutes earlier he had gone to get another beer for himself and for you, asking you not to move so he wouldn’t lose you. But it was becoming impossible to spend another second in that crowd.

You had always hated small spaces, packed with people, heat, and –worst of all– noise. That’s why you ended up drunk the last time you went to a party with Steve; it was the only way to shut down that overstimulation.

This time, though, you didn’t plan to end up like that again, you knew you’d regret it the next day.

You knew you shouldn’t move, that you should wait for Steve and tell him you needed to leave, just like you promised. But you felt stupid at the thought of ruining his night.

Breathing heavily, you started walking away from the storm of teenagers, heading down the hallway toward the bedrooms. In the first room, you found two girls, immediately shouting an apology, only to be booed, which made you even more desperate.

You entered the next room, finding it empty, and began pacing around the furniture in the middle. You pressed your hands against your waist, squeezing them to calm yourself, but it didn’t work. Your vision blurred with tears you couldn’t hold back. Red marks appeared on your waist until you grew tired of walking and sat on the floor, leaning against the furniture.

As you tried to steady your breathing, you heard a knock at the door.

“It’s occupied!” you shouted desperately, the last thing you wanted was to deal with another couple.

“It’s me, baby,” Steve said loud enough for you to hear. “Can I come in?”

You sighed with difficulty and nodded. “Yes.”

You pulled your knees to your chest, hugging your legs. You didn’t want Steve to see you and worry, so your best option was to hide your head between your knees.

Steve entered the dark room and found you on the floor. He leaned against the door, his brows furrowed, not in confusion, but in concern. He knew perfectly well what was happening. He knew you like the back of his hand, so hiding your head wouldn’t be enough.

He stayed silent for a few minutes –sitting on the floor, leaning against the door– knowing that’s what you needed. He tried to be as quiet as possible, his gaze fixed on you. He noticed how tightly your hands gripped your legs, how hard your feet pressed against the floor.

“Can I come closer?” he murmured softly, fixing his hair.

This time, your head rested against the furniture, and you nodded as best you could.

Steve slid across the floor until he was beside you. But he didn’t touch you, he just waited for you to do it, as he always did in moments like this. You stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, your mind spinning, but your body slowly calming down.

A few minutes later, you delicately rested your head on his shoulder. Steve responded by extending his hand, inviting you to take it when you felt ready. When you did, he began stroking it softly.

That was Steve. When you needed a moment to calm down, he gave it to you. He would find every possible way to make you feel better, whether it was with a touch, comforting words, or kisses. He would do the impossible and more for you.

Steve lowered his gaze to you, his fingers playing with yours as if to remind you that you were there, that you weren’t alone.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, leaning just enough for his voice to stay between the two of you, away from the noise of the party. “I should’ve noticed sooner.”

You shook your head gently, your cheek brushing his shoulder. “I didn’t want to ruin your night…” your voice broke, each word heavier than it should have been.

Steve squeezed your hand firmly, but not harshly. “Listen to me,” he said, turning slightly to face you. His big hazel eyes shone in the darkness, full of that mix of tenderness and determination that always disarmed you. “You will never ruin anything. If you’re not okay, then I’m not okay. Do you understand?”

Your breathing was still uneven, but the warmth of his hand and the certainty in his voice began to calm the storm inside you.

“Breathe with me,” he asked, resting his forehead against yours. He inhaled slowly, exaggerating the movement so you could follow. He exhaled with the same calm, and little by little, you copied his rhythm.

The silence between you became a refuge. The music and laughter outside seemed distant, as if Steve had created a space just for you.

“Do you want us to leave?” he asked after a few minutes, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “I don’t care about the party. The only thing I care about is you.”

You felt a lump in your throat, but this time it wasn’t anxiety, it was relief. “Yeah… I really want to leave,” you admitted softly, almost like a secret.

Steve smiled, that crooked smile that always seemed made just for you. “That’s okay,” he whispered. “Then we’ll leave. We can go to my place, order pizza, watch a movie… whatever you want. Just you and me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly, even with your eyes still wet. “That sounds better than listening to that music any longer.” You grimaced as the loud music seeped into the room.

He chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple, so delicate it felt like a promise. Then he stood, offering his hand to help you up.

When you took it, the weight you had been carrying suddenly felt lighter. Steve wrapped his arm around the small of your back, guiding you calmly toward the exit, without rush, as if the whole world could wait.

The cool night air brushed against your skin the moment you stepped outside. Steve never let go of your waist, as if afraid the world might steal you away.

You reached the BMW, and he opened the door for you, waiting until you were settled before circling around to the driver’s seat.

He started the engine but didn’t drive off immediately. Instead, he turned toward you, resting one arm on the back of your seat. “Better?” he asked softly, as if he didn’t want to break the calm you had found.

You nodded, letting out a sigh that turned into a small laugh. “Much better.”

Steve smiled, leaning in to brush a kiss against your head. “You know… when I came back and you weren’t there, I got so worried. But then I saw you slip into the room and I knew instantly. I felt awful, the only thing I wanted was to get you out of there. And now that we’re here, i feel like i can normally breath again.”

Your lips curved into a shy smile. “You’re too good to me, Steve Harrington. You can’t be real.”

“I should be better,” he replied, turning on the dashboard lights. With a playful gesture, he placed a hand on your knee. “So… pizza and a movie? Or anything else. You’re the boss.”

You laughed harder this time, the knot in your chest slowly unraveling. “Pizza and a movie sounds perfect. But only if you promise not to pick another action film with explosions every five minutes.”

Steve pulled an exaggerated offended face. “What? They’re classics!” Then he lowered his voice, leaning closer and looking at your face. “Fine… a rom-com. Whatever you want. I just want to be with you, sweetheart.”

The car rolled down the quiet streets, leaving the noise of the party behind. Outside, the city lights blended with the darkness, but inside the BMW everything felt safe, like a refuge.

You rested your head on his shoulder as he drove, and Steve dropped a quick kiss on your hair. “Thank you for trusting me, baby,” he murmured.

You closed your eyes, feeling the exhaustion mix with peace. “Thank you for finding me, Stevie.”

i want what they have

[deeversuswords]

[unmarlou]

some of my all time favs of jackie. pretty angel

[baeholic-deactivated20260306]

tags : strap , exes hooking up , kissing , soft sex , praise , soft dom!ellie , sub!reader. wc : 1.0k words

synopsis : she calls you baby but you both aren’t together anymore

You both weren’t together and exes fucking wasn’t the nicest look so when Ellie knocked on your door, you were quick to open. You pulled her inside fast but the collar, earning a surprised squeak from her.

“What the hell, dude!?” Ellie fixed her hoodie.

“You could’ve been seen!” You closed the door behind her, eyes wide and full of warning.

“Seen—? Wait, what?” Ellie’s eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re my ex-girlfriend, you’re not supposed to be here. Especially at the dead of the night,” you crossed your arms, “people would either think you’re here to murder me, or you’re here to fuck me. Neither of the two looks good for either of us.”

“Alright, alright, Sherlock Holmes. Why’d people even care?” Ellie asked, voice dry as she shoved her hands in the pockets of her hoodie.

“Gossip, Williams, gossip,” you said, rubbing your temples, “you’re so dense.” You flicked her head and crossed your arms.

“Sure, act like you totally didn’t get all ready for me here,” Ellie nodded to your clothes.

“Ellie, these are my pajamas,” you said, tugging at the hem of your sanrio shirt, rolling your eyes.

“Whatever, just get over here,” Ellie moved closer, you moved back.

“Ellie—”

Her hand found your waist and you melted. You knew this was wrong. She was your ex and you both shouldn’t be hooking up— it was the very thing your friends had warned you not to do and now here you were— three weeks after the breakup, calling your ex over so you could steal a kiss or two; well, that’s what you told yourself.

In reality, you knew— this would escalate.

“You smell so good,” Ellie pushed you against the wall, her hands in your hair as she kissed you deeper, “new cream?” She grinned against your lips.

“Ellie, kiss me properly!” You whined, unable to fight the smile forming on your lips.

“Desperate, are we?” Ellie kissed you again, her hand travelling down to pull you flush against herself. She didn’t touch you inappropriately— not until you gave her the green to do so.

She just wanted to live in the moment and give you as many kisses as she could— and make up for the ones she was unable to give during the breakup phase where you both ghosted each other until she cracked and texted you a “still not over you”.

Fucking dumb— she told herself.

But she didn’t mind being so dumb if that meant she got to hold you like this every night and let her lips against you show just how much she missed being yours again.

You parted for air— you blushed but forced yourself to make eye contact anyway.

“You changed your cologne.”

Ellie smirked, “how nice of you to notice.”

By now, the clothes were on the floor. Ellie was sliding your panties down slowly, her eyes hazed with love as she stared at your body.

“It’s like you’ve gotten even prettier over time,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss your little uterus pouch, leading up to your stomach and tits. “Fuck, my beautiful lady,” she whispered, pressing her kiss to the centre of your throat as if it was something scared.

To her, it was.

“The strap’s in the drawer,” you nodded to the bedstand.

“I’d have expected you got rid of it,” she said, already reaching for it.

The strap was big— well, Ellie had picked it out when she bought it for you guys’ two year anniversary so it was only natural she picked an obscenely big length. It wasn’t just long though— it was fat, veiny. Silicone but it definitely felt like the real thing because the way Ellie fucked.

“You’re so wet,” Ellie positioned herself carefully, “won’t even need no fucking lube.”

“I’m ready.” You took a deep breath.

Ellie pushed inside slowly— all of her seven inches filled your pussy up, you let out a small moan at the start but when she got deeper and the base of the cock stretched your opening, you couldn’t help chanting out her name like a mantra— soft on your tongue as if the feelings for her were impossible to dull— which it were.

How could you ever bring yourself to throw away two whole years of getting treated like a princess all day, everyday?

Ellie thrusted deep, grunting softly as she saw the way your body stretched to take her, “you haven’t fucked since me.”

“I have not,” you confessed, “I’d never find someone like you, Ellie.”

“That’s not true, you can do so much better,” Ellie pulled back, and rolled her hips back to the front making you gasp and claw at the sheets.

“That doesn’t have to be,” you felt her grabbing one of your legs and slowly raising it to rest the back of your knee on her shoulder.

Ellie managed to reach deeper with the strap in the new position— this position made you lose your breath and the waves of pleasure came in bigger intensities now. All you could think of were her and how well she treated you— but then you remembered every little inconvenience made her want to detach herself from you until the air between the both of you was all clear again. She didn’t want to deal with the suspense, the fights that came with a healthy relationship.

You moaned loud, head tipped back, “Ellie, Ellie! Please!”

“Shh, baby, I’m right here,” Ellie placed a hand on your abdomen— grounding you despite the overwhelming pleasure from her strap.

Baby. She called you baby although you both weren’t officially together. You could feel your heart squeezing.

“Ellie, please, this is too much,” you whispered, “I just— I want you. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t go there, I just— gosh… ” Ellie shoved herself all the way inside before her hands came down, wrapping around your torso as she pulled you in for an embrace. The strap was so deep as you buried your face in the crook of her neck.

“Don’t leave…”

“I won’t.”

“Pinky promise?”

Ellie smiled against your hair, “I promise.”

perma taglist : @missp0ssessivee @sevikascumrag @blessupblessup @kadoreme @wontilly @v1ck1sstuff @andreaaaxoxo @elliesngirl @angelz-void @ellz47 @sksksscarlet @luvelizaa @rawrspacecat @celinealways @joyispunk @qqueenpprincee @freakyjorker @macamilarofe @riotstemple29 @elliewilliamskisser2000 @defonot-mads @sevikahousewife @arealmissunderstood @thatredheadloserlesbian @thatoneloserdyke @loveforeviee @libbyofc @hrtcaulfield @halle5s @nkeyaaa @sleeper4tonight

[yameoto]

kiramman motherdaughter double-team

tw; cassandra + caitlyn x f!reader, pussyfucking, voyeurism, masturbation, objectification, gagging, being passed around on kiramman cock, mommy issues, family dynamics, no incest unless you count their cum mixing inside you. wc; 2.8k

“my daughter is quite fond of you,” cassandra muses thoughtfully, like you’re not ass-up, pussy-clenched, bent over on the kiramman desk; two, slender, pale fingers elegantly fucking the juices out of your cunt.

while you’d love to engage in mommy gossip over tea, your pretty little head isn’t quite capable of doing more than blindly rut back against gloved fingers. even if your ears perk up at the mention.

“what does that—ngh— fuck—“

“language, darling.” cassandra slaps your cunt, hard. you hiss, arching back, traitorous pussy deciding it really fucking likes that, and sending a surge of wetness gushing out and dripping over her palm. you arch back, and the retort making its way out of your mouth is rudely interrupted by the way she deftly folds her fingers into a fist. quelled, you settle down, thighs still stinging.

"and i suppose—mmgh—she didn’t—hah.. tell you?”

“no, but i know.” cassandra hums, index hooking. your eyes roll back, as cassandra continues to muse. or, pretend to muse. you’ve been under her thumb long enough to know every twitch of her expression, every dip in her tone, every curl of her finger—is calculated, and intentional. “her gaze lingers."

“she doesn't mind that her mother takes home girls her own age?” you pant, squirming away from cassandra’s hand as she pinches your thigh.

“girl.”  cassandra corrects, gloved hand leisurely grasping you by the chin and pinning it upwards, to face her, unable to squirm away from the steely jade of her eyes. girl, singular. it’s nothing close to ooey-and-gooey affection, but the clarification makes your heart glow nonetheless, heat flooding to every buzzing cell in your body. it also makes you pathetically, impossibly wetter. cassandra smiles as you gush around her fingers, nerves humming under her touch.

“she wouldn’t. so long as i turn a blind eye to the unending stream of conquests she has in and out of her room.” cassandra sighs, flicking against your clit. you arch upwards off of satin sheets, thighs quivering—and cassandra only takes the opportunity to thrust her digits further upwards. you thrash, like puppet thrust upon a stick.

“takes after her mother,” you gasp, and her chuckle is a pinch less poised than usual. “suppose she does, hm?"

you cum all over her gloved fingers, silk soaked to the bone.

to be perfectly honest, you were only half-lucid during that whole affair. can you blame you? one can only concentrate so much when you’re being finger-fucked to oblivion on a councillor’s desk. you hadn’t thought much of cassandra’s words, or caitlyn’s supposed fascination in you. until, well—

“mother, i don't see what could have possibly warranted dragging me out of office just to—”

the moment you come into sight, caitlyn stops, mid-way through flicking the stub of a pen, up-and-down with boredom borne vigour. she’s draped over one of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, head tilted back, elbow lent lazily over the side of the seat. she straightens, gaze flickering between you and her mother.

you stare at caitlyn. she stares back, alabaster-cut cheekbones flushing a dark-hued pink.

cassandra slinks into the other armchair, one leg draping elegantly over the other. “i told you it’d be worth the wait.” she teases, easily, superiority exuding out of her every pore. caitlyn is stock-still; a deer frozen in the headlights, because surely her mother can’t mean—

“look at her, darling.” cassandra beckons you closer, and you fall into step, obedient. her cryptic smile, widens—gloved hand outstretching, to skim the silken fabric up your thighs. her nail drags upwards, and both caitlyn and you visibly shiver. “hot, wet and inviting.”

caitlyn bites her lip, conflict playing out comically over her face, like a gargantuan tent isn’t rising at her crotch. for one, she loathes to concede any victory to her mother. on the other..

(gods, how caitlyn has wanted and wanted. it's shameful. she’s caught glimpses of you, throughout the estate, for the past year. flitting in and out, from her mother’s room—her office, sometimes. the thought should make her nose wrinkle and gaze avert, like it had done so, with all the other women her mother used to bring home. yet, you.

the pull you have is magnetic. perhaps, that’s why she hasn’t seen a single other verdant soul grace her mother’s bedsheets, since you. not that she makes a habit of peeking. it’s just—she’s wondered. she’s wondered, with her hand wrapped her dick and croons muffled by her sheets, how you’d feel around her cock, instead. because she swears that nightgown her mother lent you used to be hers, and the thought of it—skimming up your thighs, dampening against the hot flush of your cunt—

caitlyn is spry, young, quick-witted— and admittedly hormonal. she’s in the prime of her life, and the prime of her libido; too. deathly curious, too, what has made her mother come back to you—over and over and over again. what’s so special about you that you’ve made caitlyn cum into her fist, over and over again, despite never sparing her more than a second glance.)

“you can’t seriously expect me to..” caitlyn splutters, cheeks blooming red. “now? here? in front of you?”

“don’t act all shy, now. for a decorated enforcer, your sleuthing skills are lackluster."

caitlyn burns, bright-red. she's well-aware of the incident her mother is talking about. that was once. besides! she thought someone was being impaled on a stake, in there, for gods' sake. she’d almost brought the guards!

“besides," cassandra rolls her wrist, idly, "you think i’d let you handle precious goods unattended? you could break her.”

both you and caitlyn bristle; you, at the suggestion that you could be broken by this kiramman girl who is certainly fit, mind you—but break? really? caitlyn, at the dig at her self-restraint. through she’d probably smart at any barb her mother threw at her her.

“i can be delicate.” it’s like the implication is the nail in the coffin, and she’s undoing her trousers with exaggerated reluctance, like her fingers aren’t quivering in contained eagerness. “don’t look.” she demands of her mother, like a child slipping into the fitting room. the buckles of her enforcer uniform come undone, and a flash of inky-blue trim sends the hairs raising at the nape of your neck, especially when caitlyn’s fly falls away and her thighs splay open, hand curling around her base and tugging her dick out and—oh.

now, you understand why you might break.

caitlyn is.. well-endowed. (oh, cassandra is rubbing off on you in more ways than one). her length itself clean-shaven, like her mother—and the smooth, erect forth of her cock practically preens under the attention, blue-green veins climbing up its trunk. her tip is flushed a brilliant pink, and for all caitlyn’s feigned nonchalance; precum builds a shiny glaze at its slit, at the precipice of gushing out. she tucks her trousers below her balls, eyes flitting over to meet her mother’s, stare flaring to one of defiance.

caitlyn scowls, but you can't help but notice the shallow pace of her breath—the way her forearms tense, rapid fluttering beating at your chest. can't help but notice the way her cock throbs, tall and aching, and how she can't tear her eyes off of you.

“go on, dear.” cassandra urges, sly, and you startle, because you've almost gotten lost in being a passenger to the kiramman’s family squabbles—forgotten that for now, all you’re sinking onto her daughter’s cock. caitlyn gasps, hips jerking upwards.

she's hesitant, at first; rolling her hips, experimentally, and you suppress a gasp when her cock slips deeper, unintentionally. caitlyn grunts, and when she starts going she starts going, because—fuck—can you blame her? she gets lost in the ocean of your pussy, how it swallows her, and her mother is right. hot, wet, and inviting.

you can't deny you're enjoying this. each moan that caitlyn dislodges from your throat is even more encouragement for her dick to plunge deeper, length to stretch you wider. perhaps it’s unjust—but even as your head falls back and you whine in approval, shivers crackling down your body—you can't help but compare the two, just a little. (cassandra's motions have always been painstakingly controlled. each crook of a finger, curl of a knuckle, thrust of her cock; carefully poised, deliberate, and intentional. caitlyn, on the other hand—is fluid and freestyle and just a little sloppy. her ruts driving with a shaky force, like she's trying her damndest best to keep a rhythm but is trembling with the effort to hold on and not just plow into your cunt like a jackhammer. she's good. you can tell caitlyn has done this before, many times. just, perhaps not as many times, as her mother.)

"darling, posture." 

caitlyn freezes, balls-deep. her head lifts in gobsmacked disbelief at her mother's voice, hands remaining clamped down over your thighs, dick twitching. you stifle a mewl at the loss of friction.

"posture?"  caitlyn parrots, eyes narrowing, even as her back goes ramrod and shoulders square on instinct, like an automatic response to her mothers’ tone. then, annoyed at her own reaction, caitlyn thrusts, hard, as if to prove a point. the both of them ignore your subsequent whimper. “my posture is just fine, thank you very much.”

cassandra's nails drum against your collarbones, hand still carding through your hair. it takes everything in you not to nuzzle upwards into the offering, because you know cassandra despises your neediness. loves it, too. but you're not quite in the position to test how she feels, today.

“is it just fine, dear one?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, harshly, as caitlyn’s thrusts come in rhythmic slams, the other girl’s pants almost as uneven as your own. “i—nghhm—yes.”

“and is my daughter treating you well?”

caitlyn scoffs, but her hands tighten on your hips, nails digging crescent indents into skin. your eyes flicker open to meet caitlyn’s own, and you’re expecting to find that beautiful, forever, narrowed-eye glare of hers that is so instantly recognisable.

instead, what greets you is fawn-like cerulean; wide and imploring. approval-seeking, under her mother’s scrutiny—under your control. it’s like she’s holding her breath, even as the slams of her hips.

“ngh, caitlyn—“ you gasp, like a prayer, and the kiramman heir seems to dissolve at the sound of her name on your tongue, wobbling as she clings to your hips like she might just die if she were to be separated.

her throat bobs, and her hips shudder, a low groan wracking her body. and, and—

“don't finish.” cassandra interjects, command rolling off her tongue, firm and declarative, leaving no room for argument. “a little practice in self-control would be good for you.”

“mother,” caitlyn protests, elongated and pleading and irrestrainably whiney, like a toddler throwing a tantrum. her cheeks are blossomed red, flushed to the bone—strings of saliva connecting  the plump part of her lips as she ruts into you, grip bruising.

“don’t whinge.” cassandra admonishes, and caitlyn’s hiss is guttural, almost physically pained by the frustration—but she holds herself back nonetheless. “if you think i am having my daughter’s sloppy seconds, you think wrong.”

it’s as if the room has dropped in degrees. caitlyn, livid with the tension of what you can feel, drawn tight against the hot flush of your body. cassandra, whose gaze is as impenetrable and indomitable as ever. the both of them; cut-throat and frigid—like the meeting of stalagmites and stalactites, crashing into one another.

your pussy clenches, because gods, this is hot. caitlyn audibly lets slip a hiss, when your walls tighten around her poor, sensitive dick. it’s almost inevitable when she cracks, first. 

it’s that first twitch in her brow that waivers the white flag, and she her jaw tightens and her eyes go wild—before she forcibly wrenches herself out from you, eyes rolling back as her cock squelches free— promptly blows her load all over the carpet.

caitlyn folds to her knees, black-blue eyes peer upwards, both wounded and aggrieved; like the world has done her wrong by not having her cum inside of you. the way she’s positioned is almost heartstring wrenching—if it weren’t for how her hands curl around the base of her cock and she arches back and hisses, shamelessly jerking the rest of her high, off. thick, white spurts of cum splatter, some on the glossy wooden panels—but most on the carpet. carpet, worth some-twelve families’ fortunes and now marred by fat, creamy streaks of white, clinging to filaments that’ll indubitably harden come sunrise.

caitlyn pants, wiping spit with the back of her hand. her eyes meet her mother’s, satisfaction uncoiling in her gut, along with the leftovers drizzling from her tip.

“are you quite done?” cassandra exhales, as her daughter empties herself out over their living room floor.

“yes.” caitlyn says, petulant. her expression is as still as stone—yet anybody could see the smug gleam in her eye.(of course, a day doesn’t go past in piltover nowadays that that kiramman brat isn’t uttered. perhaps, the moniker has more truth to it than you’d thought.)

cassandra seems to torn whether this is the right time to discipline her daughter, though she doesn’t account for you and your incessant neediness, because you’d just been so full and now you’re so empty. it’s burning a hole right in the pits of your stomach, and you need to be filled. you need it. cassandra, for all her patience— has waited long enough.

your pussy opens up to cassandra’s cock with an obscene squelch, walls stretching, thighs quivering outwards as you welcome the familiar girth, and isn't that something? that coming home equivocates to cumming over her cock.

cassandra cants her hips upwards, just barely— and after the (sloppy, but earnest) viciousness of which caitlyn just fucked you; it's not enough.

“more—need—more, cass—“

poor choice of words. you should know better than to throw nicknames around so flippantly, around her daughter, no less. cassandra’s grey-tinged stare turns glacial. if there's anything she's has ever taught you—it’s how to be good.

"and just where did your manners go?” cassandra’s head slants, lips curling, and you know you’re in for it, now.

through glassy eyes and a heavy head—you watch as she peels the glove from her hand and—ah. they’re the ones from earlier. still filthy, drenched in your residue. it brings flush of shame to your cheeks—mouth opening to whine; yet you’re cut off by the way she swiftly stuffs them in your mouth. the salty proof of your lust shoves down the back of your throat. you choke. it stifles your mewling like a charm.

heavens. cassandra is struck by just how much she adores you, as she rocks you on her dick. your gaze; so glossy and starry and bright, tears burning behind your eyes around your gag. she goes slow—lulls you into a false sense of security with the gentleness in her pace—before she viciously drives her hips upwards every so often, and pounds. the push-and-pull is undoing. you gasp around your make-shift gag each and every time, making the most delicious sounds as you do so.

caitlyn has long since sulked back to the armchair at the side, watching the scene with as her dick twitches, still standing tall and proud as your slick glistens, coating its length. cassandra takes her time. not sparing a glance at her daughter, the pace of her teasing out the both of you. caitlyn grouches, grumbling to herself all the whole. the sounds that come out of your mouth are much less becoming.

“take it,” cassandra orders coolly, into your ear, weathered hands clasping your jaw. she twists herself in, and you buck with a gasp when you feel hotness flood through every being. cassandra grunts, and the slip-up is barely decipherable through the cotton in your head, but you can feel the way she pumps you full with her cum with complete clarity, spasming around her cock.

when cassandra finally empties herself–pushes you up, and off of her, her movements are gracious and dignified, as if she didn’t just fuck and fill you full until your pupils slipped back and your cunt oozing with white. by the time she's done, caitlyn has made another mess against mahogony, and the younger is too fucking desperate to even bother with the illusion of control. too desperate to give a single flying fuck about the fact her own mother's cum is pulsing out from your pussy in sticky waves, that the second you're out of cassandra's hands—you're in caitlyn's. she shoves you back on the rug, fireplace licking warmth against your cheeks—though its nothing compared to the roar of sheer, blinding sensation that blazes up your core when caitlyn rams her cock inside you. groaning, girth splitting you open as she mounts you, just like that, in the middle of the living room.

cassandra reclines, back against the armchair, cock hanging between her legs. her lips curve, upwards, and she takes a sip of her tea. she has more to give you, after all. she'll just have to ensure caitlyn doesn't snap you in two, first.

[urfavoritewritersfavoritewriter]

wedding blues - conrad fisher x fem!reader

masterlist

crosswords (part one)

word count: 1.4k

warnings: none really, hurt no comfort, poorly written angst

After her findings she gently closed his drawer. As much as she wanted to storm off and never come back, she knew she made a commitment to attending the wedding, and after that she’d tell Conrad they can’t move forward.

Conrad had other plans, the second he thought he could get in with Belly, he ran with it. Tending to her every need as you, his girlfriend, sat alone. He made her every meal she ate, set breakfast out for her, went wedding shopping with her. All while his girlfriend laid alone, tanning, walking to nearby shops.

She knew from his first phone call to her that it wouldn’t be her dream; the sweet experience of your partner showing you their childhood neighborhood, walking through the museum of their life. But she didn’t expect to take the tour alone everyday.

Conrad realized he wasn’t getting anywhere with Belly. That was emphasized by their fight on the beach where he begged her to not marry Jeremiah, and wait for him instead. When he realized it wouldn’t work, he went back to her, y/n, tried and true. To him, she became ‘ol reliable, like a pair of jeans that live under your bed, they fit like a glove, always look great, but they lack the “wow” factor that they once had. After he and Bellys blow up, he went to his room and changed. Watching her curl up in her childhood blankie, on top of his sheets, like she felt like she shouldn’t be in his space, like she wasn’t welcome in his space. He changed into a pair of pajama pants and slid next to her, pulling her to his chest like he had done when they were at school, like he had failed to do the week prior.

She felt herself get tucked under the covers and pulled into him. She sleepily pulled away from him and tucked her head into a pillow.

“Come on, baby” he mumbled pressing a small kiss to her head, “I’ve missed you” he said pressing light kisses to her spine.

“No” she hums into her pillow

“What?” He asked, his voice hushed.

“I’m here because you need a date to the wedding and that’s it” she mumbled sitting up, his tee shirt covering to her upper thigh.

“No baby, what are you saying?” He asked sitting up next to her, “I love you, you know that, it’s only you” he said, the lie burning his tongue.

“I made a commitment to being your date to this wedding, so I’m staying, after that, we’re done” she said turning over in bed.

He let out a deep sigh, putting his head in his hands. He fucked up, anything good he had with Belly was gone, and to get to a good spot with Belly, he lost his relationship with y/n.

The next morning he woke up to her on top of his covers, cuddled to her blankie, snoring softly. He went downstairs and saw Belly eating the cereal he bought for her days ago, the cereal he was planning on giving y/n today.

When she emerged from his room, she saw them both over the kitchen island, Belly was eating cereal and Conrad was making eggs. She gave Belly a curt nod, one Belly wasn’t expecting after the kindness y/n had given Belly prior.

“For you,” Conrad said, giving her a plate of two eggs, a piece of toast, and a handful of cherries.

She nodded back, biting back a comment about not being hungry. It was a useless jab about how last night made her sick to her stomach. But she knew he could tell based on her tone.

“Thank you” she mumbled sitting at the end of the line of bar stools.

“I can show you around today, I know you haven’t gotten a chance to see most of it—“ Conrad started before Belly interrupted.

“Actually, Conrad, I was going to ask you to fix the shingles on the roof” Belly asked.

“Yeah, do that, I got a little tour pamphlet from an Inn near by, I can go myself” she reassured. She did that often, appearing smaller, not needy, like a low maintenance pet.

Conrad stood, contemplating if there was a right choice; if there was, he didn’t choose it. By noon he was on the roof reinstalling a few shingles on the brink of rotting while his girl, ex girl, was riding a rent-a-bike in downtown cousins.

The wedding was beautiful, not what she would have wanted, but it fit Belly and Jeremiah, a frat president and sorority girls dream. The country club was pretty, the cake was yummy, the dress was gorgeous. She learned that people, conrad included, forced Belly into this category of a misunderstood intellectual, who was far more complex than the world took her for — this wedding reinforced that she wasn’t uniquely multifaceted in a way no one has seen before. She was a pretty sorority girl, and she was allowed to be that. y/n envied her, even away from the fact that her boyfriend is in love with her; she knew Belly was everything she wasn’t, easy going, kind, simple, a conversationalist. They were a match made in Heaven, and she was glad she was there to share it with them. Once people began to exit the venue, she and Conrad followed suit. There wasn’t much to say, “beautiful wedding” meant “did you like watching the love of your life marry your brother!” “How are you feeling?” Sounds like “I’m very aware I’m her replacement!” So she opted for no speaking.

“You still have a week or so, right?” Conrad asked, walking her to his sleek, black Range Rover.

“Of time off? Yeah. My flight back to school is tomorrow though” she nodded biting at her nail as they spoke.

“No, you’re kidding!” He groaned softly as they spoke by the trunk of his car.

“I thought I’d get out of your families hair sooner rather than later” she affirmed, not wanting to seem like an inconvenience. He frowned while biting the inside of this cheek.

“You’ll have your whole bed back!” She said enthusiastically. He cupped her cheek, feeling her push into it like a puppy.

“I’d never get tired of sharing my bed with you” he mumbled.

“It’s nice having a body next to you. Do you imagine I’m her?” She asked, finally taking the plunge.

“No, never” he mumbled softly tugging at the part of her lips.

“Don’t do this to me” she asked desperately, “don’t lie to me.”

He shook his head, wiping the tears that fell down her face with his thumb.

“I only want you, I’ll only want you” he softly pled.

She shook her head, it didn’t matter that Belly was likely the exception to his loyalty, it was too much of a risk for her to stay with him. While he was sleeping, she walked to the Cousins Bus to take her to Boston Logan International Airport, for her to fly to Stanford.

The next semester, Conrad met Agnes. She was gorgeous, beautiful green eyes and big red curls. She was into him, he knew it. He learned his lesson though, politely rejecting her, knowing he was going to spend the rest of his days chasing her ghost, double taking when he saw hair similar to hers, when he saw anyone carrying the Stanford Daily, when he saw crosswords. For the rest of his life he was going to look for her in everything he did. He never thought of Belly, only when the Christmas card came in, or he needed to get them a Christmas gift. It was her that haunted his dreams. Chase two girls, lose the one. They met in the following spring. She was getting an iced americano with a splash of vanilla syrup, she was reading over the paper. Folding it in half once she got to the crossword.

“Have you done that one before? I did it yesterday, it was tricky,” He asked taking a sip of his black drip coffee, pulling out the last page with the crossword.

“Uh no, not too into it anymore” she nodded softly from her seat.

He frowned softly, she did every print crossword in her line of sight, no matter how complex or how old, it’d be done.

She looked at the paper he pulled out, he had one left, “13 Across: Taylor Swift song containing this line ‘chase two girls, lose the one’”

“It’s Cardigan” she nodded curtly, pushing in her chair and leaving the Cafe, he was left to watch her ghost again.

a/n: yall begged for this, so I hope it’s decent

tags: @maybankslover @riddlesbabygirlxoxoo

[thatweirddeadgirl]

gf ellie williams and your pittie puppy having the most stupidest beef ever.

grown ass woman beefing with a puppy thats barely taller than her ankles.

when she had gotten with you she didn’t think it would escalate to this after you told her about your adorable baby.

but the damn dog just doesn’t like her!

your baby never growls or barks unless she feels threatened, senses something is off or unless ellie is simply existing around her.

god forbid you put her in her kennel when ellie is at your house cause she will whine the entire time!

never mind the reason you put her up is because she wouldn’t stop biting ellies ankles…

and if she manages to act civil when ellie is around, she will let you know she’s not happy at all.

one time ellie and you had been cuddling on the couch while watching tv. everything was peaceful and quiet.

until you could hear the pitter patter of your baby wandering into the living room and suddenly she freezes at the sight of you and ellie on the couch.

oh this baby starts crying. she runs to the couch and tries to claw her way up as if to try and break yall up.

ellie rolls her eyes when you eventually cave and pick up the baby who then settles into your side.

and ellie fucking swears to whatever god is out there that the lil shit gave her a smug look!!

everything calms down once again, your oblivious to the glares and side eyes the two send to each other.

at some point ellie tries to rest a hand on your thigh but your baby jumps up and begins to growls at her, as if to tell her ‘no touching!’

and this begins the start of ellie fucking with your dog.

she takes her hand back and baby calms down, lil growls emitting from her tiny body. then suddenly ellie holds your hand and baby loses it.

she starts barking at ellie and even tries nipping at her.

you finally notice the chaos that ellie is causing and scold her.

“ellie, leave her alone!” “nah watch this”

ellie pulls you close and hugs you, wrapping as much of her body around you as she can. before you think this can get any worse, she starts verbally taunting baby.

she tells the puppy “she’s mine” and baby’s entire body is shaking in anger. she chomps down on the sleeve of your sweater and begins to try pulling you away.

it’s not as effective due to her tiny size but it’s the thought that counts.

you just wanted a calm afternoon, not to be used like a tug of war rope.

you eventually get up, growing tired of the nonsense between your puppy and girlfriend. you leave them in the living room and tell them they have to sit together and try to get along while you go take a shower.

ellie reluctantly agrees while baby visibly deflates as you leave.

when you’re finished you notice how it’s become eerily silent. you make your way back into the living room and are surprised by the sight.

baby is comfortably napping on ellies lap.

ellie doesn’t look as happy.

“after you left she plopped on my lap and wouldn’t get up” she mumbles but you still notice the new softness in her eyes as she awkwardly tries to pet the puppy as gently as she can.

you sit right next to her and lean your head onto her shoulder, a soft smile on your face.

“i knew you two would get along eventually” ellie only hums.

you finally get the peace you had been craving.

“she stinks– ow!!”

“don’t talk about my baby like that”

i was watching pitbull videos on tiktok and this came to me like a vision. hope you enjoyed!

[munsonsmixtapes]

i have a request!! doctor conrad taking care of you when you're sick? 🩵

Ask and you shall receive, babe! This is my first time writing for Conrad, so please be gentle with me!

The lights are off in your bedroom, the only light sources being the TV that’s playing your favorite show and the lamp on your bedside table. You’re under the covers in your bed, sound asleep as you try your best to fight off the cold you came down with over the weekend.

You went on a girls’ trip with some of your friends and must have caught something during all the traveling. And Conrad being Conrad demanded to let him take care of you. He’s always been that way but especially since he became a doctor.

Now, he insists on wearing a lab coat while he asks you about your symptoms. And when he’ll give you your ”prescription” which is usually just cuddles and kisses, but it always makes you feel better.

He just loves taking care of you, loves feeling appreciated when you thank him for all the things he does for you. And you get especially thankful when you don’t feel good, thanking him for every little thing.

And he eats that shit up, feeling special, feeling the need to spoil you in any way he can because he wants you to know just how much he loves you.

The door opens there he is, lab coat still on and he’s carrying a tray filled with all of your favorite snacks as well as another box of tissues since the one you’re currently using is running low.

He sets the tray on your bedside table before taking off his coat and hanging it on the hook on the back of your door. He then climbs into the bed, snuggling up to you.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you say with a sniff as you turn over to face him. He just smiles at you-that look that tells you that he’s convinced that you hung the moon.

“Of course I did,” he smiles wider, pulling you closer, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“You’re gonna get sick.” Conrad just rolls his eyes at that. As if that would ever deter him. It doesn’t matter how sick you are. He’s never going to ever deny any of your kisses.

“So? That just means I get to be here with you longer.” He lets out a sigh as he snuggles further into the bed. “We haven’t really been together lately and I just…I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” you reply with another kiss, this one longer and deeper. “I love you.” You snuggle into his neck and Conrad is convinced that he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. This is his happy place.

“I love you too,” he says, and he drifts off to sleep, knowing that he’ll be the luckiest man as long as he’s got you in his arms. Even if it’s because you need him to warm you up because of your cold.

[stvrkeysgal]

after last night - conrad fisher

summary: a glimpse of how the next day goes after hooking up with conrad :p

> warnings: possibly implied smut. but mainly fluff tbh i was feeling like it

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

"fuck, you look good in my shirt." conrad leans on his bathroom's doorframe, arms crossed as he looked at you as if you were the prettiest thing he's ever seen.

the shirt you're wearing right now is your personal fave from conrad's wardrobe— an oversized (to you, because you're short) navy blue cousins rowing shirt that he had ever since he was 16. and it feels and smells exactly like him.

you stood in front of his bathroom mirror, just in your underwear and his shirt from the night before; with your messed up hair and bare feet, conrad would totally not mind if you closed his bedroom door and-

you looked at conrad all puzzled as you brushed your teeth. "what, you don't believe me? you look so ravishing right now. could just eat you up," conrad walks closer to where you're standing and back hugged you, kissing your neck along the way.

"conrad, i'm brushing my goddamn teeth," your voice sounds muffled due to your toothbrush, and he mocks the way your voice sounded. you flipped him off and finished whatever you're doing before straight up kissing him.

"i guess it worked?" conrad pulled away and smirked at you. "what worked?" you asked, then swatted him playfully. "kissing your neck," conrad then carried you bridal style and walked the two of you back to his bed.

"connie, i have to go home." he dismisses your concern by kissing you once again. "baby, you don't have to rush. i know you don't have anything planned today."

"fine, you got me. but my parents would get suspicious and shit. you know how crazy they can be," you run your fingers through conrad's hair. "besides it's already, like, what? 10am?" conrad shows you his phone proudly which shows the time. 7:45AM.

"told you we don't have to rush. plus, you live next door. why are you so worried?" he raises an eyebrow for effect as you rolled your eyes at him. "well, i thought it was late. it's pretty bright outside so..." it was your turn to smirk at him. "i guess i could stay for a while.

you and conrad spent the morning cuddling, kissing, and... fucking. (after you literally swore to yourself that you won't do anything with conrad since you're fucking sore)

the two of you are lucky that susannah and laurel's out for book signing and the rest are swimming on the beach.

by the time it was almost 10AM, you returned to the bathroom and went straight to the mirror. sighing to yourself as you see your neck littered— and i mean littered—with dark purple marks that came from conrad, no doubt. "connie!" he heard you call for him and smirked to himself, knowing the reason why you were pissed. "yes, baby?"

"how the fuck am i supposed to cover this up?!" you point dramatically at the hickeys plastered on your skin. "you'll manage."

"i hate you, smug bastard." conrad scoffs before running his hand over the skin of your neck. "i love you too." he smirks before kissing one of your hickeys softly.

ᯓ★⋆ ࣪. ♡ ⋆ ࣪. 𐙚

a/n: rushed this one because i literally CANNOT just let me forget abt this one idea and do nothing abt it. besides it's too good not to write

conrad's masterlist

[lacydaydream-deactivated2026032]

Plans Be Damned

⤷ conrad fisher

conrad fisher x fem!reader

summary: A sweet and cozy morning after your first time with Conrad

cw: no use of y/n. no detailed description of reader’s appearance. very slight recall to sexual situations. tooth rotting fluff. connie is literally the sweetest.

estelle yaps: i know this isn’t my usual content but I needed to write this

word count: 800

“Hey.” The sound of your voice drifts through the air, soft and delicate.

Conrad turns, his face flushing slightly. His eyes sparkle when they land on you, glinting like seafoam in the sun. A faint flush rises on his cheeks– just a kiss of color on his pale skin.

His gaze trails down your form– you’re still in the pink satin babydoll dress. The same one he’d gently stripped from you the night before, kissing every inch of your skin in worship. Conrad looks at you like you individually hung each star in the sky.

A smile breaks across his face as he stands. He’s over the threshold in a second, his hand settling around your waist.

“I was waiting on coffee to wake you up,” he murmurs softly, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on your hipbone. He juts his head toward the counter, where the coffee pot quietly whirs.

“Well, consider your plan spoiled.” A smile pulls at your lips.

You rise on your tiptoes, arms linking around his neck. His scent clings to your skin– ocean air and fabric softener, dizzying and familiar. He’s warm. The kind of warm that keeps you safe on a cold winter night.

When your arms wrap around him, his eyes soften. It’s a look that speaks thousands of words– the kind of look you used to pray he’d send your way.

And now… here he was. Finally doing it.

Even better? You’d woken up in Conrad Fisher’s bed. His scent still lingered like a comfort, and now his arms are around you– holding you like a precious jewel that might crumble if he wasn't careful.

He grins. One of those rare smiles he used to only give Belly. The kind of smile he’s finally giving you. Warmth spreads beneath your skin where he touches you.

“You can always spoil my plans.” He says it softly, like he doesn’t realize it’ll send your heart summersaulting in your chest. He says it like he means it.

Your eyes drift to his lips– still slightly bruised from last night, dark pink from being bitten. They look soft. And they are– tentative and sacred when they move against yours.

His hand lifts to your cheek, thumb gently brushing your cheekbone. Your breath catches.

Conrad’s eyes flutter shut as he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss. It’s a simple kiss. Gentle. Soft in a way that tears you apart and stitches you whole again. Your lips mold like puzzle pieces as they move with his.

It feels like hours before he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours. A smile breaks loose on your face, joy sparking through every nerve. Kissing Conrad feels exactly how you always dreamt it would– fireworks dancing across your skin and somehow still the most natural thing in the world.

A hum escapes your lips. “What if they’re super important plans?”

Conrad pretends to think, brows pulling together, lips pursing. When he decides he’s waited long enough, his other hand finds your hip. In a swift motion, you’re lifted and gently settled onto the counter.

The cold surface meeting your bare thighs earns a surprised yelp. Conrad chuckles, stepping between your knees. His grip stays gentle on your waist.

“Then plans be damned.” His voice is sincere, the words drifting out like smoke. “I…” His thought trails off, a sleepy smile cracking through his usual gruffness. “Am going to get your coffee.”

There’s a long moment before he turns toward the counter.

Plans be damned. He’d said that once before– years ago. He was fifteen and you were thirteen. The day was supposed to be filled with boardwalk games and Suzannah’s laughter drifting down the pier. But you’d fallen ill, and Conrad had stayed behind at the beach house with you. You’d apologized for ruining his day, and he’d just said it– plans be damned.

“Thanks,” you murmur when he places a mug into your hands, the ceramic instantly warming your skin.

A comfortable silence settles between you. The coffee is warm. Conrad’s gaze is even warmer.

Pink creeps across your cheeks, an awkward smile cracking through. “What?”

“Nothing.” Conrad smiles, shaking his head. “I’m just… I’m happy. That’s all.”

estelle yaps some more: hi, my angel babies! my other works can be found here. my requests are currently open. if you’d like, join the taglist! :)

[kissesfromkiki]

Tears

“Hey, don't be embarrassed. It’s… it’s nice to be adored, feel adored. It just feels misplaced.”

“Misplaced?” You quirk a brow in confusion. Conrad was your boyfriend, any and all adoration for him could never be misplaced.

“I’m just doing your dishes, and you’re looking at me like I personally hung the moon for you.”

You track his movement as he sets down a wet bowl on your drying rack and swallow.

Or

Conrad Fisher commits acts of service.

pairing: Conrad Fisher x fem!you (established relationship)

wc: 1.6k

a/n: kinda hate this, kinda don’t. (let’s ignore the fact that I haven’t posted a piece in over a year, okay? okay.)

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Conrad’s amused words cut through your daydreams.

You quickly glance down at your laptop shaking your head slightly, as if shaking away the thoughts, the feeling of a flush creeping into your skin.

“Like what?” You blink back up at him.

“I don’t know, it’s just,” He raises one of his hands from where he’s doing dishes to make a circular motion towards you. “It’s just like… like that first time you looked at me in the library. When I grabbed that book off the shelf you couldn’t reach. You looked like you were in complete awe at me over such a simple act. I remember it so vividly, it almost knocked me off my feet.”

Your skin feels hot as you blink rapidly. trying to regain your brain function. “Oh.”

“Hey, don't be embarrassed. It’s… it’s nice to be adored, feel adored. It just feels misplaced.”

“Misplaced?” You quirk a brow in confusion. Conrad was your boyfriend, any and all adoration for him could never be misplaced.

“I’m just doing your dishes, and you’re looking at me like I personally hung the moon for you.”

You track his movement as he sets down a wet bowl on your drying rack and swallow.

“Maybe, but you’re doing my dishes, in my kitchen, in my apartment, and without me asking. I would’ve gotten to them eventually, but you just took it upon yourself to do them for me.”

“Well, I mean, you’ve been so focused on this project for your engineering internship,” He gestures towards your laptop. “I know how important it is to you, but I also know you focus better in a clean environment. I just wanted to help you out.”

And you just can’t help but melt at the sentiment, “C’mere.” You jut your head back in a nod, signaling him to come closer.

Conrad rounds the counter and you swivel on your stool to face him properly, your knees knocking into his legs.

“Thank you.” Your tone is soft and sincere, dripping in affection.

“Yeah, of course,” He runs a hand through his sun lightened hair. “I just like feeling useful.”

You reach out, taking the hem of his button down and rubbing it between your fingers. You tug on the soft fabric, wanting him to bend down closer to you. Conrad of course obliges, leaning in closer to you. Once close enough, you tilt your head up to meet his, kissing him gently. An action of thanks and appreciation.

You weren’t home yet, so I just let myself into your apartment.

Hope you don’t mind.

nah you’re good

I gave you the key for a reason

make yourself at home

I’ll be back soon

You’d received the texts forty minutes ago while you were out grocery shopping. Conrad and you had plans to stay in and work on your respective projects for a bit before making dinner and watching some movie. However, he was early, like always. You finished up your shopping and headed home, only to now be struggling up the stairs with your groceries. Once you make it to the door, you slide the key into the lock and push the door open.

Conrad looks up from his spot on the floor, a few pieces of wood scattered around him, along with a few tools. At the sight of you with your multiple grocery bags, he scrambles to his feet and towards you, taking the bags from you and walking over to your kitchen.

“Y/n,” He practically whines. “Why didn’t you let me know you were back? I would’ve helped you with these bags.” He sets the bags on your small table.

“There’s only four bags, I didn’t think they’d be that heavy. I thought I could handle it.” You pout.

He walks over to you, “I know what you thought, but asking for help doesn’t make you any less capable Y/n.” He places his hands on your shoulders as he looks down at you.

You sigh, “I really hate it when you’re right Con.”

He cracks a smile at that and you laugh softly as he drops his hands from your shoulders.

You mourn the loss of his touch and decide to take a moment to survey the mess scattered around your living room.

Your lips turn up in a smile and you can’t keep the humor out of your voice, “What you got going on here bud?”

“I um,” He smiles sheepishly. “I saw the boxes for your new desk and chair, so I decided to put them together for you.”

“Well, I see the beginning of a desk. Where’s the chair, or have you not gotten to that piece yet?” I giggle.

Conrad huffs amusedly, “No, the chair was easy. It’s already in your room. It’s this desk that’s giving me the most trouble.”

You bite down your laugh. “Okay, how about this,” You move your hands to his upper arms, “We’ll open up some beers, and finish the desk together.” You slide your hands down to his. “And then we can order some dinner instead of cooking.”

“What? You don’t want grilled chicken?” He asks sarcastically with a teasing smile.

Your nose scrunches up in fake disgust, “Um no.”

He lets out a loud laugh and you can’t help but join in.

Three hours later the two of you are lounging on your couch, your legs draped over Conrad’s lap as he mindlessly strokes your thigh and a movie playing on the tv.

He clears his throat, “Y/n, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Uh… okay.” You sit up slightly.

“Nothing bad, I promise. Just wanted to run something by you.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, “Okay, what’s up?”

“So, you know how I wasn’t going to go to my mom’s memorial ceremony at the garden because of my job at the lab, but then I, um… got fired.”

“Yes, I remember.” You say softly.

“Right.” He swallows, “Well, as you know I saw my aunt Julia today, and well she convinced me I should go.”

It’s simple and, oh so easy, you know he needs to go. “I agree.”

“You do?”

“Of course. I mean I know you weren’t necessarily looking forward to going back there, being around your dad, and so on, but I also know you wanted to go and give your speech, for your mom.”

“Do you think it’s stupid that I’m feeling anxious about this?”

“Of course not Con. You’ve stayed away for your own good, you’ve been protecting your peace. However, now that you have that availability to go again to the ceremony, you should. It’s what Susannah would’ve wanted.”

“Okay, I’m going to go. There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about since you said I should go though.”

“Well go on, I’m listening.”

“I want you to come with me.”

You stutter slightly, “Come with you? To Cousins?”

“You put me at ease, I want you next to me Y/n.”

Your mind is made up before he even finishes speaking, “Yeah, okay. I’ll come with you.”

“Really?” His eyes shine with hope.

“Of course Conrad. I would love to come with you, to visit Cousins.”

You can see the way his face melts in relief, “Thank you, so much, for doing this for me.”

“No, thank you for inviting me, for considering my thoughts and feelings about this whole thing.”

He smiles, “No need to thank me for that Y/n, that’s just basic consideration when you’re in a relationship. You talk things out.”

You lean forwards and kiss him. He’s taken aback at first but easily slides into response, moving his hand to the nape of your neck and tangling in your hair. You move your hand up his chest to rest on the side of his neck and feel his pulse jump when your fingers brush his pulse point. You break away slightly, needing air and nuzzle your nose against his.

“Quite the kiss just for us having a conversation.” He breathes out.

“Not just for that, for everything. For always taking me into consideration. Doing my dishes occasionally, getting me a matcha before class because you know I had a rough night, keeping my favorite snacks in your cabinets even though you hate all that highly processed junk, reading books you see me read so I have someone to talk to about them, bringing me food because you know I get in the zone with my work and forget to eat… building that chair and stupid desk.” You all but whine with a shrug of your shoulders. You move your hands to cover your face.

“Hmm… those aren’t even things I actively think about doing ahead of time, I just do because I want to.”

You pout affectionately, “Conrad Beck Fisher, where did you come from?”

“Boston.” He retorts and you burst into giggles.

He kisses you, soft and slow, savoring the moment. You can feel the smile on his lips and smile to.

Eventually he moves around on the couch, standing up, “Come on.” He holds out his hand to you, “We need a dance break.”

You place your hand in his and he pulls you to your feet, walking you guys in front of the coffee table. He pulls you into his arms, taking one of your hands and resting the other on the small of back. You bring an arm up around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder. He pulls you firm against him, resting his head on top of yours. The two of you sway to the background music of the movie.

I love you. Conrad thinks.

masterlist

taglist: @hannie-squirrel00 @jackierose902109 @watercolorskky @kcd15 @laurasdrey

[munsonsmixtapes]

Don’t Forget You Love Me

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summary: You and Conrad somehow find your way back to each other after a year of being broken up.

word count: 1.7k

As soon as you step into the house, you wonder what you were thinking. But you’re trying to be a good friend, reminding yourself that this isn’t all about you. Tonight is about Harmony and her birthday. And you know you shouldn’t be thinking about him, but as you close the door behind you and make your way into the living room, you wonder if he’s here.

Inviting him would be the kind of thing that Harmony would do-to try and somehow get the two of you back together. And you’re trying your best to not think about it. You want to focus on her on her special day.

She’s in the kitchen, throwing back a shot, a wide smile on her face once she slams the glass down onto the island. You make your way towards each other and share a quick hug before she offers you a shot. You down it, feeling like you need something to help get your mind off of him. You don’t know why you’re so nervous about seeing him. Harmony wouldn’t invite your ex without your permission…would she?

Your thoughts are interrupted by Harmony pulling you into the living room to dance. It’s only now that you realize how badly your feet hurt. You decided to wear something different-a knee length floral dress and heels that were way too tall for you and a size too small. They pinch with every step but you’re hoping the alcohol will help with the pain.

“You look hot,” she tells you as she spins you out, your dress flaring out as you move. “Dress up for a certain someone?” She winks and you roll your eyes.

“No. I just wanted to look nice. It’s a special occasion.”

“Well, lucky me. And lucky you too. I think someone has their eye on you.” She points behind you and you slowly turn, seeing one of the guys who you’ve seen around. But you’re not interested. He’s always creeped you out and you’re still thinking about-

No. Why are you thinking about him? It’s been over a year and you really need to get over it. He probably has so you should too. But you don’t want to do it here-not like this. You want it to happen naturally and you certainly don’t want it to be some loser that Harmony is trying to set you up with.

You don’t know why you expected to see him here anyway. He wouldn’t come to a party with the promise that you’d get back with him, right? You’d like to think that you’d know him well enough to know that he wouldn’t. He’s over you, you know it. It’s what you have to tell yourself in order to finally move on.

“You know what? I actually think I’m gonna get something to drink. Wine?” You turn on your heel to head to the kitchen and just know something is off in the way you move. Your foot slides, causing your ankle to bend and you fall to the floor. You’re quick to get up, ignoring the other party guests checking on you.

You need to go somewhere private and fast. You limp your way up the stairs, feeling your cheeks flush. You head to the bathroom, remembering that Harmony has a first aid kit under the sink. You need to take care of your ankle and you also just need some time alone to get out of your head.

You open the door, grateful that it’s unlocked and are shocked when you see that there’s someone at the sink. He still hasn’t noticed you and when you get a glimpse of his reflection, you can’t help but let out a gasp. He turns and faces you, you both widening your eyes as you take each other in.

All of the pain of your break up comes rushing back and you suddenly feel sick even though you’ve barely drank anything. Bile is rising in your throat and you choke it down. There’s no fucking way you’re throwing up in front of him. It doesn’t matter that you have so many times before. This is different. He’s no longer in your life anymore. Right now, he’s nothing more than a stranger.

“Y/n,” he says and you hate how the way he says your name still gives you butterflies.

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised to see you here. You are the reason why he came, right? When Harmony told him that you wanted him to come, he immediately cleared his schedule. But then he saw you in the kitchen with your other friends, laughing and drinking and he was thinking that maybe you’re better off without him. You look good-gorgeous. And it was killing him to see you so happy without him.

And now that you’re here, he’s nervous. What was he thinking trying to get back together with you? What a stupid idea. It’s been over a year and you’ve surely moved on by now. He’s the one who’s stuck in the past, refusing to let this go.

“Sorry, I’ll just-” You’re about to leave when he turns back to the mirror, wincing as he dabs at a cut on his cheek with a damp washcloth. Without a second thought, you close the door and slowly move towards him. You rest your hand on his shoulder and turn him around to face you.

It’s dangerous being this close to you. Feeling your touch is making him feel hot and he’s trying really hard to not do something he’ll regret. But your lips look soft and inviting and if he leans in just a little-no. He’s not going down this road again. He’s already spent too long pining for you.

“What happened?” You gasp, taking in the black eye that’s forming. You turn his face to the side to get a better look at it. He’s staring straight at you and you have to avoid his eye contact because looking him in the eye will only make you feel more sick. Not only because of his black eye but also because it will just remind you of what used to be.

“Nothing. I just…got into a fight.” He’s not usually one to get into fights so you’re wondering why he’s gotten into one now. It must have been something bad because he’s got a really good control on his emotions.

“About what?” He’s definitely gone too far but there’s no turning back now. And who knows, maybe you’ll tell him that he’s your hero.

“I was out on the patio smoking and I heard these guys talking about you. They were saying these awful things.”

“Like what?” You don’t actually want to know, but you don’t know what else to say. This is all just so weird-like some dream that you’re going to wake up from at any second. You truly never thought you’d see him again so, needless to say that this is a huge shock.

“Don’t make me say it.” There’s a look in his eyes, almost like regret-like he thinks he shouldn’t have told you.

“That bad?” You continue to dab at the cut by Conrad’s eye and if he closes his eyes, he can almost act like you never broke up. Because this is exactly something you would do if you were still together. But you’d be showering him with kisses too, telling how brave he was for taking a beating on your behalf.

“Disgusting.”

“Why would you do that? We’re not together anymore, Conrad.” That feels like a punch to the gut and now he feels sick. He knows that you’re just telling it like it is and he feels so silly for letting something like that get to him.

“Just because we’re not together anymore doesn’t mean that I stopped caring about you.” Your eyes widen at his words and he’s surprised by your shock. He’s never stopped caring about you-he thought that was obvious.

That seems to surprise you when your eyes widen. How did you not know? He promised that he would never stop loving you and that never changed. He’s still hopelessly so and seeing you here in that dress, cleaning up his wounds-god, nothing has changed.

You step to the side and your ankle twists again but this time, someone’s there to catch you. And feeling you in his arms, god, he’s weak. He can easily pretend like you’re not broken up and that you’re cleaning him up in exchange for him defending you.

“Here, come sit.” Conrad helps you over to the toilet and you sit down, surprised when he kneels in front of you. You watch him take off your shoes, massaging your ankles like old times.

“You don’t have to do that.” You’re only saying that because you don’t want things to get too complicated. You really need to deal with your feelings in peace.

“But I want to.” He focuses on your bad ankle, staring up at you with those soft eyes. This feels so natural-like it hasn’t been over a year since you saw each other.

It feels right and you wonder what he would say if you told him that you wanted to get back together. You wonder if he feels the same but seeing that longing look in his eyes, you know that he feels the same. You can still read him like a book.

“Better?”

“Much,” you nod as he sets your foot back on the floor. He sets your shoes aside so neither of you will trip on them and you find yourself spreading your legs as he scoots closer. He’s on his knees now, both of you inching closer and closer until your lips touch.

Your arms wrap around his neck as his wrap around your waist. This is everything you wanted and more and you can tell that Conrad feels the same with the way he’s returning your kiss.

He missed this, he missed you. As much as he loves his job and all of the opportunities it’s created, he regrets not making you a priority. But maybe this is his second chance. Maybe he can make it right this time and finally get the girl.

“I missed you,” he whispers against your lips and you can’t help but smile.

“I missed you too,” you whisper back as he pulls away, neither of you able to stop smiling.

“You know, I uh, I’m in the process of moving back and I was wondering if you maybe wanted to get coffee and catch up sometime?”

“I’d really like that,” you nod. Maybe everything is finally falling back into place. And maybe, but only maybe you’ll end up thanking Harmony for her scheming.

taglist: @winharry @almostjollypizza

[angel-sweets666]

after care with bakugo

Once he finishes fucking you dumb he immediately goes to clean you up and comfort you

he’ll pull out of you, then grab a damp cloth and wipe up your sore holes

”shhh it’s okay baby.. you did so well for me, so well. I’m so proud of you”

picks you up like the little baby you are to him and places you in a tub of warm water, making sure it’s the perfect temperature for you.

”cmon arms up, gotta make sure my baby is clean”

while you lay in the bathtub he makes you some food, normally something sweet like getting you some icecream

Sits you in his lap while he rubs your back and kisses your neck, letting you enjoy your icecream

“your such a dumbass, letting me get you all sticky with cum huh..?”

[ilyitachi]

ꪆৎDoes he Moan or Groan?

!Minors do not interact!

⋆.˚────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────⋆.˚

He definitely is a Moaner- Every single time you slip your hands inside his pants and skillfully handjob his cock he tries to hold back the sounds that comes out his mouth, it starts of as a low gasp at first, then a soft drawn-out moan just letting you know how good it feels. And when your on top bouncing on his dick, his head tilts back his back and breath stutters holding back moans until he can’t and his voice is always desperate, needy just for you when he lets those pretty sounds out!

╰┈➤Armin Arlert, Berthdolt Hoover, Choso Kamo, Izuku Midoriya, Nagi Seishiro, Denki Kaminari, Sugawara Koushi, Zenitsu Agatsuma, Kiba Inuzuka,Tanjiro Kamado, Meguru Bachira, Okarun, Shoyo Hinata, Kaneki ken, Hiori Yo, Mikage Reo,Yuji Itadori,Satoru Gojo, Kozume Kenma,+ Your favourites

⋆.˚────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──────⋆.˚

He’s 100% a Groaner- Whenever things start to get good, Especially when your on your knees looking up at him while your Taking him your your mouth swirling your tongue around his sensitive tip those raw deep groans come out his mouth, it makes you wetter then you already we’re Or when he’s inside of you every single thrust in your tight little pussy, he just can’t help but let out a groan. And when he’s close to his climax his thrusts are more erotic and faster and rougher too, his groans also get sharper, more rougher that it before it feel the hot white ropes of cum.. Leaking inside your pretty pussy!

╰┈➤Toji Fushiguro, Itoshi Sae , Itachi Uchiha, Sasuke Uchiha, Dabi, Katsuki Bakugo, Hatake Kakashi,Kuroo Tetsuro, Suguru Geto, Zabuza , Eren Jaeger, Levi Ackerman, Reiner Braun, Shoei Barou, Ushijima Watakoshi, Roronoa Zoro,Shanks,Sanemi Shinazugawa + Your favourites

Should I start watching black clover???

YESSSS!!

no

Voting ended onJul 26, 2025

[revolvingsaturn]

☆ day 4

finger sucking | Shoto Todoroki

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Shoto doesn’t talk too much.

The remnants of evening sunlight beam in amber sheets through the window. Shoto Todoroki sits spread above you, cheeks tinted pink and hair falling in delicate wisps across his face. You may be on your knees, but his underwear stays on- instead, he’s got his middle and ring finger pressed inside your mouth, occasionally humming low praises as you take him so well.

He’s warm.

And then, suddenly, he isn’t.

Suddenly, he’s freezing- quirk dropping the temperature so fast it gives you whiplash, and you’re surprised your teeth aren’t chattering yet. You’re more surprised than anything- Shoto isn’t one to be so… forward, although the gleam in his eye sparkles when you gasp around his fingers.

“Too cold?” He murmurs.

You shake your head, and a smile tugs at his lips.

“That’s..good.”

He experimentally pushes them further, releasing your tongue and letting you suck properly- cheeks hollowing, a small bead of drool trickling from the corner of your flushed lips. He notices- of course- and uses his other hand, the hot one, to thumb it away. The way he cups your face is reverent, comfortingly cosy in the way a warm fireplace is at Christmas, how a warm, thick duvet hugs you during the winter. If you weren’t getting off on the feeling of Shoto’s fingers swirling in your mouth, it’d probably be quite romantic.

It’s in contrast to his fingers, which keep prodding around your mouth without ever getting warm; it’s like having ice coasting continuously over your tastebuds- but there’s no melting, no dripping aside from the webs of saliva that keep leaking from your plush lips, keep dribbling messily down your chin and meeting warm fingers.

It’s all rather beautiful, you think- your knees sinking into the padded rug below, eyes gazing starlit at Shoto while he mirrors it back, hand cradling the side of your face softly, delicately, like your skin is intricate porcelain he couldn’t bear to shatter.

So yes, while Shoto Todoroki may be a man of few words, his touch makes up for it.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

a/n: TLOAS is definitely no folklore but it’s so pop sparkly girl upbeat I can’t even complain about anything

Kinktober masterlist

tags:

@peachchae @meangirlsssssss @1ntefly @dabikiss @natanielkovack @amo-bsd @magnificentblizzardtriumph @kittaliapenn @katsucookies @sultrycarrie @destenyyyyy @sesilia8o @soursxpling @scarletgremlin @jays-adventure3 @raven-s @red-cat-with-a-hat @gktdh @qtvi0let @amo-bsd @skyblue11090 @z69clowndyke420 @h0rny-chick @aftersnrise @hikariiyaps @thatgyal @sofiaanjz @deadrevenge @y2kbella @flospros @mellowmilkshakeavenue @ckaulitzz @limaarr @nova-rocks @staygoldsquatchling02 @numberonedabistan @theonly1berry @msbyswife @leahtanger1ne @txsunafishiess @ieattoesforbreakfqst @cvntyandfasionable @lazeylocketheart-x3 @catnanami @justaprettygirlxoxo @fanofcliterature @mirisitap @cammiwu @mochabunss @maneaterarabella

[alovergirlatheart]

what's wrong? (c. fisher)

conrad fisher x fem! reader

summary: conrad notices that something's wrong (loosely based on the scene in s3 where he notices that belly isnt eating)

word count: 1.2k

warnings: none? reader is in a relationship, hurt/angst, comfort, fluff

note: my first fic! im super excited but also kinda nervous so pls go easy on me lol.. but also criticism is appreciated! :)

part two here!

-

He could tell something was wrong as soon as he saw you. He was outside in the front of the Cousins house, crouched down while fixing something whenever he heard your car pull up. Strange, he thought. You had told him that you were going to be gone all day on account of your date with your boyfriend. You step out with your head down, hoping to conceal your upset state. But he sees right through you. He always does.

"Hey. You're home early," he spoke kindly with a hint of curiosity in his tone, but mostly concern. "Yeah. Quick date. " You spoke briefly while looking anywhere other than at him. He looked at you for a split second with an expression that seemed to say "I can tell that you're lying," but he kept it to himself.

Before you could scurry past him, he stood up from his crouched position to look at you fully while saying, "Cool. Hey, I made some food and I put it in the fridge for you. Yes, it is chicken before you ask, but I also put some corn on the cob and a cookie." He smiled while saying it, hoping that maybe it would make you reciprocate. And it did, but not in the way he wanted. It's tight and uncomfortable and doesn't match your eyes. "I'm not that hungry, but thank you." Once again, your sentences are clipped and hurried, as if you're desperate to get away from this entire interaction. "Yeah, well, it'll be there." He smiled again in an attempt to bring warmth to the conversation. You smiled once more before quickly retreating into the house.

He stood there for a second longer, going over everything that just happened in his head. Clearly something was going on. He internally kicked himself for even caring in the first place. She's not even yours anymore, Conrad. But no matter how hard he tried he still couldn't help but remain mindful of your wellbeing. He let out a breath before shaking his head slightly, as if ridding himself the thoughts, and getting back to work.

It was starting to get dark out whenever Conrad stepped back inside. He quickly freshened up before heating up some leftovers for himself. He ate in silence and despite his better judgement, continued to think about you. When he finished eating, he washed the dishes and set them aside to dry before he started to retreat to his room for bed. But while he's passing the fridge he hesitates. And God, he hates that he does. He thinks about it for one more moment before eventually submitting to himself and begrudgingly going back to open it. He finds the plate he left for you still there, left completely untouched. The note he left saying 'EAT THIS!! :)' seemed to be mocking him as he stared at it. He slowly closed the fridge before going back on his way to his room.

Once again, he berated himself. For looking back, for worrying about you, for thinking of you. His thoughts started to run haywire and whenever he finally snapped out of it, he realized his feet had led himself to your door. He paused for a moment, weighing out his options while also attempting to listen in. All he could hear was silence and for a moment he assumed maybe you'd gone to bed already. But then a quiet, muffled sniffle cut off his thoughts. The longer he listened the more sniffles followed. His hand hovered over the door before finally he gathered up the courage and-

knock, knock, knock

The sound transported you out of your thoughts. You had been sitting in your bed facing the wall, looking at nothing and everything. You'd been running through the previous conversation with your boyfriend in your mind over and over. The way your smile quickly dimmed and turned to a frown as his words turn harsh and mean. The way your heart had slightly cracked whenever you heard him admit he'd fallen out of love. And most of all, the way you weren't really even upset.

You had liked him, right? He was cute, funny, nice, everything a girl should want! And for a while it seemed like something that you did want. But there was always this voice in the back of your mind. This feeling deep inside of you. And whenever you were around him, it all seemed to come to the surface. It was all so stupid- you had only dated for a couple months in high school. So why was it bothering you this much? Maybe it was due to you being around him so much lately. Or maybe it was the way he talked so sweet to you. Or the way he always cooked and cleaned, not because he had to, but because he genuinely wanted to. Or maybe it was the way he just understood everything. Or maybe--

knock, knock, knock

Oh, shit. Forgot about that.

You cleared your throat before quietly calling, "Yeah?" from inside your room. You hastily wiped at your eyes, doing your best to rid of all evidence of your tears before hearing the door slowly creak open. "Hey. Just wanted to check on you. You looked kinda... off earlier. And you didn't eat." He speaks earnestly and gently in a way that almost catches you off guard. You wait for a moment and think about whether or not you should tell him. Your first instinct is to just keep it to yourself. But something about the way he said it and the way he's looking at you right now starts to blur your thoughts.

Before you know it, your eyebrows are starting to furrow as your lips form into a small frown. You try to hide your face in your hands as soon as you feel the hot tears building up. You'd always hated crying in front of others. But just like always, Conrad sees you.

"Hey, hey- What's wrong?" He all but rushes over to your crumpled form on the bed, sitting next to you while also leaving space. You tried to maintain your composure but the more he did and said the louder your cries got. "It- It's just... God, it's all so fucking stupid, Con," you murmured out in a wobbly voice that was partially blocked by your hands. He slowly and nervously wraps his arms around you, feeling you stiffen for a moment before eventually melting into it.

You want to be able to say everything that's on your mind, about how you never really wanted to date that guy and how it's only ever been him that you saw. But every word you tried to say broke in half and turned into a sob. "Shh, shh..." he whispered softly into your hair while rubbing his hand up and down your back. His mind had a million thoughts in them, each one advising him to do something different, but right now all he cared about was you. He silently promised to himself that he would stay there as long as you needed. And that's what he did.

-

note: i hope you all enjoyed! it's def a liiiittle rough lol.. i'll get better at this i promise! :') pls pls PLS comment they're very appreciated, also lmk if you'd want a part two????