perhaps some hot and steamy conrad smut with an angsty love confession?
warnings; smut (18+), angst, confession, fluff, miscommunication, fingering, reader is mean to conrad for a bit, based on ep 11, p in v (unprotected, WRAP BEFORE YOU TAP!) and happy ending.
a/n: hello!! thank you for this request, i hope you enjoy it! this is my first time writing smut so no hate! im open to feedback! i cant tell if i like the smut part but idkkk. thank you! also im getting to all of my requests, trust me ill do my best. thank youuu!
the last thing you expected was to see conrad fisher on your doorstep in spain. it was the last thing you wanted, the last thing you needed. the rain fell heavy, spilling over the quiet street, and the sky pressed low with grey. he stood there, soaked through, drops sliding from his hair, his eyes fixed on you like he hadn’t rehearsed this part.
just when you thought you had closed that chapter of your life, without him in it, he shows up again. every time he pushed you away, every time you told him you were done, he found a way back. it was a cruel cycle, a loop you swore you’d broken, yet here he was, standing in the rain like he belonged to every page you tried to tear out.
“conrad?” you said, barely above a whisper. you couldn’t believe it, couldn’t process that he had come all the way from california to spain, to your doorstep.
“hey… i’m sorry, i know you probably have plans.” he finally said, his voice low, carrying that same careful hesitation. he gave a small, almost nervous smile, tilting his head in that same familiar way that made your chest ache.
“no.” you paused, licking your dry lips before finishing, “i don’t .” the words came out sharper than you meant, but how could they not. he broke your heart and disappeared, and now, a year later, he was here. no warning, no plan, just standing in front of you like nothing had happened.
you looked away, your chest tight, before opening the door just enough to let him through. with a small wave of your hand toward the apartment, you signaled for him to come in, though every part of you screamed at how wrong it felt to let him cross that threshold again.
“sorry for the mess, i was busy.” you said, leading him into the living room where scattered pictures in frames hung gently across the walls. it was true—you had been busy. being a veterinarian technician meant endless hours, long nights spent studying until your eyes burned, and early mornings training at the local animal clinic. your life had been full, steady, almost enough to keep thoughts of him away. almost.
“i don’t mind,” he said quickly, his eyes already drifting away from you. they landed on the picture frame sitting on the table, the one you always thought about hiding but never did. it was a blurry shot, all of you crammed together. conrad, belly, jeremiah, steven, and you, caught mid-laugh at something laurel had said. the kind of moment that felt untouchable, frozen in time, before everything had fallen apart.
before susannah died, before he ended things so suddenly, before the beach house became nothing more than a faint, bittersweet place to think about. you had been there every summer since you were three years old, your mom bringing you along, weaving you into their family until it felt like your own.
those walls carried every version of you, every laugh, every secret whispered under salt-stained skies. until grief and goodbye turned it into a memory you weren’t sure you wanted to touch anymore.
clearing your throat, you watched as his eyes flicked back up to meet yours. before you could get a word out, he spoke first. “look… i know this is sudden, and i know you don’t want me here. but i can’t stop thinking about you.” his voice cracked just slightly, enough to make your stomach twist, the weight of his words pressing into the space between you.
you laughed, though nothing about it was funny. it slipped out sharp and hollow, the kind of laugh that carried more disbelief than humor. shaking your head, you crossed your arms, trying to steady yourself.
“conrad, i haven’t seen you since last summer,” you said, the words cutting through the thick air. “and now you show up here, in spain, after everything? i mean..we were together for 6 months in highschool.”
your chest felt tight, like the walls of the apartment were closing in. the memories came back in knife cutting waves. prom night, the rain, the sharp edge of his voice when he told you it was over, the silence that followed.
you had rebuilt yourself from the pieces he left behind, poured your whole soul into long days at the clinic, into a life that was yours and only yours. and now here he was, standing in the middle of your living room, dragging you down with him, asking you to believe in something you’d already buried. or you thought you did.
“it hasn’t been years since christmas, or when we almost kissed. you’re telling me—” he stopped, his voice faltering as if the words themselves weighed too much. his chest rose and fell unevenly, his hands flexing at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. finally, he drew in a shaky breath, forcing himself to meet your eyes. “did that mean anything? at all.”
the silence after was heavy, pressing against the walls. the memory flickered back instantly, that night in december. soft lights, the warmth of the fire, the way his hand had brushed yours and lingered. how close his lips had been to yours before you pulled away, shattering the moment. you’d told yourself it was nothing, just another almost, another thread in a story you were desperate to unwrite.
but now, standing here, he was asking you to admit it out loud, to unravel everything you had tucked away neatly into the past.
“i don’t know. i don’t know how to feel, conrad. and i wish. i wish i was as sure as you. but i’m not.” your voice trembled at the edges. you drew the words out because each one was a small surrender, and you needed every inch of time to make sure you kept from saying what lived behind them. to say it. i love you, conrad beck fisher. the thought sat heavy and bright and impossible in your chest, like something you weren’t allowed to touch.
his face went small, like someone had folded a map down to a corner. for a second he looked younger, as if the years and the distance had been peeled away and you were back at the beach house, sunburnt and laughing. then the rain on the window caught his profile and he looked older again, tempered by whatever he’d carried through the months you’d been apart. he swallowed.
“you don’t have to say it,” he whispered, but the whisper carried everything he was. it was apology and years of memories braided together, soft and raw. he took a step closer and then stopped, like he was afraid the space between you might close with one wrong move.
his hair was still wet, and a smell of salt and rain clung to him, the same salt that used to ride in on the ocean breezes from the beach house. it made something ache behind your ribs.
you folded your arms tighter, not because you were cold but because it made you feel anchored. “it’s not that simple,” you said. you thought of prom, of susannah’s funeral, of the long stretches of silence after he left.
you thought of all the small, tedious things that had rebuilt you: late shifts at the clinic, the steady weight of responsibility, the way a sleeping dog looked like a promise kept. those were the bricks you had laid without him, and you could not pretend they had been laid in vain.
conrad’s eyes searched yours, pleading and hope in turns. “i know,” he said. “i don’t expect you to forgive me. i don’t expect you to forget. i just… i needed you to know i’m here. i needed to tell you that i’m sorry, properly. and that i still—” he stopped, cutting himself off as if the rest might make you run. his hands found each other and twisted, a nervous, human motion that made you want to take them in your own and stop whatever storm was inside him.
silence fell and for a moment the only sound was the rain tapping the sill. you thought of the picture on the table, the blurry laugh, the summer light. you thought of how you’d slept on a futon for months after it all ended, how you learned to read charts and stitch wounds and keep your hands steady while other things fell apart.
the life you’d built was messy and beautiful and fiercely yours. you were afraid that letting him back in would mean losing the edges you’d fought to sharpen.
“what do you want from me, conrad?” you asked finally. your voice was steadier now, not because you’d found the answer but because you needed the question out in the open.
“i want you.” he said, quickly.
the words hit you harder than you expected, rattling through the walls you had built around yourself. his eyes were open, unguarded, and it felt like for once he wasn’t hiding behind silence. you wanted to scoff, to remind him how much he had broken you, but instead something else rose in your throat. something softer, heavier, deeper.
you shook your head, your arms tightening across your chest. “conrad… it’s not just you. it’s not just what you did.” your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to keep going. “i wasn’t there for you either. when susannah was sick, when you were falling apart… i was afraid of losing her, and i still pulled back. i told myself it wasn’t my place, that you didn’t want me close, but the truth is i was also scared of losing you. i didn’t know how to hold all that pain with you. so i let you go through it alone.”
his face shifted, surprise flickering across it before his brows pulled together. he shook his head firmly. “no. don’t do that. you don’t get to carry my mistakes too. i shut you out, i pushed you away. that’s on me.”
“but i let you,” you said quickly, your words cutting through his. “i let you push me out. i should’ve fought harder. i should’ve stayed, even when you said you didn’t want me there. maybe things would’ve been different if i hadn’t given up so easily.” your throat burned, and you blinked against the sting in your eyes. “so if you’re here to tell me you regret it, then you need to know… i regret it too. i regret not being stronger for you when you needed me most.”
for a moment neither of you spoke, the silence heavy with all the years you’d both tried to bury. he looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time, like your confession had cracked something open inside him. finally, he whispered, “we were just kids. we didn’t know how to hold each other through that.”
you let out a shaky breath, nodding. “maybe. but we’re not kids anymore. and if we’re going to try—if we even stand a chance—we have to stop pretending it was only one person’s fault. it wasn’t. it was both of us.”
his eyes softened, and the smallest smile touched his lips, bittersweet and trembling. “then maybe we get to start over. this time, together.”
you didn’t answer right away. you let the words sit between you, fragile and dangerous, like the beginning of something you weren’t sure you could survive but weren’t ready to lose either.
you both stood there, chests heavy, staring at each other in the thick silence. his lips parted, his voice trembling as he began, “i’m sorry—”
“shut up,” you cut him off, your voice breaking, the words sharper than you meant but truer than anything else. before he could react, you reached for him, your hands fisting in the damp fabric of his shirt as you pulled him forward.
your lips crashed against his, urgent and unsteady, all the anger and regret and longing folding into that single moment. he kissed you back instantly, like he had been waiting for you to finally close the distance. his hands cupped your face, rain still clinging to his skin, and you felt the world tilt, dissolve, until there was only him. only you. only this.
his hand gripped tighter at your waist, pulling you against him until your chest pressed firmly to his. the kiss grew heavier, hungrier, as though the years apart had only fueled the fire now spilling out between you. your fingers tangled deeper in his hair, tugging harder this time, and he let out a low sound that sent heat through your stomach.
you backed into the apartment wall, the frame of a picture rattling faintly as your shoulders hit. his lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then down your neck, hot and desperate, his breath uneven against your skin. “god, i missed you,” he murmured, the words muffled against your collarbone as his hands slid beneath the fabric of your shirt, his palms cold and insistent.
you tilted your head back, letting out a sharp breath as your arms clung around him, pulling him impossibly closer. the rain outside pattered faintly against the glass, but inside it was all heat and need, the storm replaced by the two of you finally giving in to what you’d been denying for too long.
his mouth found yours again, urgent, messy, your teeth grazing, your body arching into his touch. the apartment around you blurred, fading into shadows.
you pulled your lips from his, breathless, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “my room,” you whispered quickly, the words barely out before you grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the staircase.
he followed without hesitation, his steps quick, almost clumsy with urgency. halfway up, he couldn’t hold back any longer. his hand tightened in yours, yanking you back against him as his mouth claimed yours again. your back hit the railing, the wooden frame creaking under the force as his lips pressed hot and rough against yours.
you gasped softly, your fingers clutching at his shoulders, the kiss deepening until you felt dizzy. his body pressed flush to yours, the staircase forgotten as his hands roamed, anchoring you in place while his mouth moved like he couldn’t stand another second apart. your heart hammered, each kiss pulling you under, leaving you breathless with how much you had missed this. missed him.
he caught your arm gently, pinning it behind your head as his lips traced down your neck. your breath hitched, your whole body trembling with want, with the ache of everything you’d been holding back. your hands shook as you reached for him, guiding his hand lower, the silent gesture telling him everything you couldn’t put into words.
his fingers lingered, teasing, slow enough to unravel you as he moved aside the lace of your underwear. a sharp gasp escaped you, your head tipping back against the railing. “conrad…” you swore under your breath, his name breaking out of you like a plea, like a confession.
he slipped one finger inside, the wet sounds filling the air with ragged breathes as you held onto him, one hand gripping his neck, the other holding the railing tightly. he slowed, his movements deliberate, as though savoring the moment.
when his eyes lifted back to yours, they were sparkling, filled with something raw and unspoken. before you could even catch your breath, he pulled his fingers out and swept you up into his arms, whimpering at the loss of his fingers inside you.
he held you against his chest like you were the only thing that mattered. your arms looped around his neck instinctively, and the world seemed to tilt as he carried you upward, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was urgent and unrelenting.
kicking open the bedroom door, he carried you inside without breaking the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperate urgency that left you breathless. he nudged the door shut with his leg, the soft thud echoing behind you, before pressing you back against the wall.
his body held you there, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you close as if letting go wasn’t an option. your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he moved his hips to yours, deepening the kiss until you both were gasping for air.
he let out a low sound, rough in his throat, as your bodies pressed closer, the need between you impossible to ignore. his hand slid up, finding your hair, tugging gently until your lips parted on a soft moan. the air between you slowed, thick with heat, and the only sounds filling the room were your ragged breaths and the quiet, desperate noises you drew from each other.
he lifted you again, his arms steady and sure, carrying you across the room as though you weighed nothing at all. his lips never strayed far from yours, brushing against them between hurried breaths. when he reached the bed, he bent down, setting you carefully onto the sheets, his hands lingering at your waist as if he couldn’t bear to let go. his gaze swept over you, soft and desperate all at once, before he leaned in to claim your mouth again.
he pulled away just enough to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling fast as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. one by one they came undone in a rush, the fabric falling from his shoulders. you reached behind your back, fingers tugging at the ties of your dress, but he shook his head, his gaze steady on you. the shirt slipped from his hands to the floor, forgotten, as he leaned closer again, his voice low, almost a whisper. “i want to do it.”
you nodded, your lips parting slightly as your hands moved down to his belt. the metal clinked softly in the quiet room, each movement slow, deliberate, your eyes never leaving his. his breath hitched the moment you tugged the strap loose, sliding it free before working at the button and zipper. with one smooth pull, you pushed his pants down, the fabric falling away. his chest rose sharply, eyes locked on yours, every inch of him strung tight with want as if the simple act of your touch had undone him completely.
you both stood there, breathing heavy, stripped down to nothing but your underwear. the faint hum of the streets below drifted through the open window, the soft glow of a streetlight spilling across the room, painting him in gold and shadow. the world outside moved on, unaware, while silence wrapped around the two of you.
he stepped closer, closing the space, his hands finding your waist as if he’d been reaching for you all along. and then his lips were on yours again, slower this time, deeper, like he wanted to memorize the way you tasted, the way you fit against him.
you both stumbled back onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight as his hands found your waist, steady and urgent. you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him impossibly closer, your bodies fitting together in a way that felt both new and achingly familiar.
every movement against each other stole the breath from your lungs, every touch unraveling the distance and silence you had carried for so long. the world outside blurred, fading into nothing but shadow and heartbeat, until it was only the two of you. all those late nights of dreaming, of wondering, of aching for him. every moment had led here, to this, to him.
you suddenly pulled back, breathless, your eyes searching his in the dim glow. before he could speak, you shifted, the two of you flipping with a tangle of limbs and laughter caught in your throats. now straddling him, you pressed down, moving with the rhythm of the moment, the years of longing burning away into heat and closeness. his hands gripped your waist, sliding up your back, holding you as if you might disappear.
he closed his eyes, a soft sound escaping him, before opening them again and pulling you down, closing the distance between your lips with a kiss that was deep, desperate, and full of everything you’d never stopped wanting.
he caught your bottom lip gently between his teeth before pulling back, his breath warm against your skin. “i’ve dreamt about this. you…” his voice trailed off, a smile tugging at his lips as his eyes searched yours.
his lips molded to yours, deepening the kiss, one hand steady on your waist while the other slid up your back. with a practiced ease, his fingers found the clasp of your bra and, with a single motion, undid it. the strap loosened, falling from your shoulders as he smiled against your mouth, almost smug, before pulling you even closer.
heat rushed to your cheeks, your face growing hot under his gaze. you couldn’t help the way your own smile spread wide, unsteady but real. “me too…” you whispered, the words slipping out like a secret you’d been holding for years.
falling back into the mattress, you pulled him with you, your breaths tangled as your hands slipped down to the waistband of his boxers. your touch lingered there, a wordless plea, a hint of what you wanted. his eyes darkened as he looked down at you, the tension thick in the air.
you hooked your thumbs beneath your own, sliding yours down and away, the movement slow, deliberate. he followed your lead, the room alive with nothing but the sound of rushing hearts and the quiet hum of the city beyond the window.
his breath hitched as he lingered there, hovering just close enough to drive you restless. his forehead pressed against yours, eyes locking with an intensity that made your chest ache. he shifted just slightly, enough to make your pulse quicken, to make you cling tighter to him.
“tell me,” he whispered, his voice low, frayed with restraint. every line of his body trembled with the effort to hold back, to wait for your answer, for your permission. the seconds stretched, the tension thrumming between you like a live wire, the weight of years, of everything unspoken, hanging heavy in the air.
you could feel his heart pounding against your ribs, your own matching it beat for beat, the silence thick with want and the terrifying, beautiful truth that this was finally happening.
“i want this.” you breathed out, pausing slightly before continuing “i want you.”
that was all it took before he slowly slipped in, allowing you to adjust to his length, he gripped your waist harder, as he gently guided you down. his head tilted back in pleasure, as your face contoured with the feeling of him inside you.
the room grew warmer with every passing second, the air thick and charged as your bodies found a rhythm all their own. your hands clung to him, nails pressing into his skin as though anchoring yourself to the moment. his touch was everywhere—firm, unyielding—one hand pressing against the curve of your back, keeping you close, the other steadying you, guiding you as though he couldn’t bear to let you slip away.
each movement was dizzying, every brush of skin against skin sending sparks through you, a push and pull that felt both desperate and inevitable. the world outside blurred into silence, the only thing that existed was the rhythm you created together, faster, harder, as if years of distance and longing were unraveling in a single breathless stretch of time.
the sound of his low grunts filled the space, each one rough and unrestrained, mixing with the sharp gasp of your breath as you clung to him. every movement sent you further under, the world beyond the walls dissolving until there was nothing left but the two of you.
your body moved with his in a steady rise and fall, the rhythm tightening, pulling you higher, deeper, until heat coiled low in your stomach. the feeling tangled and grew, almost unbearable, every second winding tighter, urging you closer to the edge of something you’d been chasing for years without even knowing it.
“conrad…” you muttered, your voice breaking as your head fell back, lost in the rush of it all. his grip tightened around you, holding you closer as if you were the only thing tethering him to the moment.
your name fell from his lips in a breathless whisper, reverent and raw, his eyes locked on you like he couldn’t look away. every movement, every sound, every stolen breath drew you deeper into him, until it felt like the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
“i’m going to…” you whispered, the words breaking apart as you buried your face into the curve of his neck, your breath hot against his skin. he held you tighter, like he felt the tremor building in you, like he wanted to catch every piece of it. before you could say another word, his hand slid to the back of your head, guiding you to him, and his lips claimed yours in a deep, desperate kiss. it silenced everything.
as the coil in your stomach pulled tighter and tighter, you clung to him, your fingers digging into his skin as though he was the only thing keeping you grounded. the world blurred, your breath catching as the wave finally broke, rushing through you in a dizzying flood of heat and relief.
and then, slowly, it ebbed, the storm settling into something softer, calmer, as you melted against him. his arms stayed wrapped around you, steady, unyielding, holding you through the quiet that followed. his name fell from your swollen lips.
he moved faster, his hands shaking, his movements faltered, breath shuddering against your skin as he buried his face in the hollow of your neck. his grip on you tightened, almost trembling, as if he was trying to hold himself together and let go all at once.
with one final push of rhythm, the sound of his low groan broke into the quiet, raw and unrestrained, your name tangled in it like a prayer.
he clung to you through it, chest heaving, heart hammering against yours, until the sharp edges of the moment softened. finally, he lifted his head, eyes half-lidded but shining, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, breathless, “you are perfect.”
untangling from the twisted sheets, you slowly unraveled from each other, limbs heavy and breath still uneven. the silence in the room was thick, broken only by the faint hum of the city outside and the slowing rhythm of your hearts. you shifted closer, laying your head against his chest, the steady beat beneath your ear grounding you in the aftermath.
his arm draped lazily around you, fingertips tracing idle patterns along your shoulder, as if even now he couldn’t stop reaching for you. for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself settle, safe against him, wrapped in the quiet of everything you both had finally let out.
he reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the clean towel you’d left there earlier, and with a gentleness that made your chest ache, he carefully cleaned you up. his touch lingered, soft and unhurried, like every motion was a way of saying he wasn’t going anywhere this time. when he was done, he tossed the towel aside and pulled you close again, your body melting into his warmth.
“i love you, conrad beck fisher,” you whispered, your voice tired but certain, your heavy eyes daring to close.
he smiled, the kind of smile you hadn’t seen in years and looked back at you. “i love you…” your name tumbled from his lips, tender and steady, before he pressed one last kiss to your forehead.
wrapped in him, the weight of the night finally softened, and you both slipped into sleep.
this was your conrad, and this time. with absolute certainty, you weren’t letting go..
you were exactly where you were meant to be.
