Summary: “So, it’s not a big deal then, right?” Gemma says. “One week in Tuscany, Italian countryside, huge, romantic wedding ceremony, wine, good food, both Fisher brothers, no big deal?”
Belly and Conrad try to make sense of the last 24 hours while on a poorly-planned train ride to Brussels. After the mania? The inevitable comedown, and the cold reality of navigating their ongoing intimacy issues in a new city, with the stress of normal life crowding in.
Luckily, they're both too stubborn to give up without a fight.
Read Chapter One on AO3
He can’t believe he was even thinking about honeymoons or honeymoon phases before. That was actually sort of delusional of him. He should note that thought down in his journal. It’s been approximately one hour since Belly changed her mind, or whatever it was that made her come running after him onto a moving train. One hour of this feeling – like he’s just climbed an impossibly high mountain, like he’s jumped off its peak in a paraglider, something he’s never once considered doing, not even when the most adventurous guy in his undergrad friend group had insisted on taking him - and he’s already calling it a “phase,” a word which generally describes something stable and consistent enough to last more than a day.
Conrad knows that’s not an idea he should indulge.
He’s made this mistake too many times already. Made a fool of himself and then made things worse. All by assuming his feelings were reciprocated, or rather, assuming they were returned to a degree matching his own. He can’t assume anything with Belly. Not anymore.
They both know she’s in control.
thank you sm kim @thatonekimgirl for making this gif <3 <3 <3
Summary: Belly and Conrad are navigating a new life together, will old issues interrupt them?
Conrad x Reader Fics
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Maxton Hall Fics
James x Ruby
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James x Reader
First Time Second Chances Master List
Summary: You and James have history, but it's an embarrassing one. Now that humiliation has come around a second time for you, will James make it worse, or come to the rescue?
Heated Rivalry Fics
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Images
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Enough Love to Go Around
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Shane mumbles something in his sleep that has Ilya picking a fight.
Happy Endings
Cliff Marleau tries make a gesture of goodwill towards Ilya, but it does not go to plan. So, Cliff pulls in reinforcements, namely Roz's husband.
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Ilya really wants Shane to ask for what he wants
What's the Word I'm Looking For?
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That One Time I Met Ilya Rosanov
This is my experience with Ilya Rozanov...oh, and someone named Jane
guys help i was writing smut on my laptop and now my mum has sat next to me i’ve never dimmed the screen so fast but omg i was on a roll why must she stem my creative juices rn this is so rude
Conrad was standing in my room, the sun rising as he stood beside the window. He looked golden in this light, like a dream I couldn't - wouldn't wake up from. We almost just stayed in Brussels, but instead we took the first stop off and came back home - it didn't feel right, being in somewhere so foreign to us, but finally together again. So, we came back home, letting Conrad actually change into new clothes, both letting everything settle in for us - letting reality catch up with real time. I walked out of the bathroom and into my room, seeing Conrad holding Jr. Mint in his hands, looking down at it like it carried so much weight - and it did, truthfully.
“I'm sure Jr. Mint is happy to see you around again,” I said beside him, seeming to surprise him out of his thoughts.
He smiled at me, reaching for my hand out of instinct and reeling me into his side. “I was just thinking I might need to up my game on gifts this year, my past gift giving hasn't always quite hit the mark.”
I laughed, thinking he had to be joking. However when he didn't laugh, I said, “Are you kidding? Jr. Mint is one of the best gifts anyone's ever given me,”
He looked at me with narrowed eyes, like I was just lying to make him feel better or something. “Yeah, well, I guess he would've been even better if I got you that giraffe you always had wanted.”
I scoffed, meeting his eyes as I said, “Conrad, I never wanted the giraffe. I just said that because I hated how well you knew me - and … I was jealous. But Jr. Mint was all I ever wanted.” He was all I ever wanted. This.
He looked at me fully confused now, brows curled inward. “Jealous? Of what?”
“More like who,” I rolled my eyes at my younger self. “I realized you just brought me to the boardwalk to talk to the girl working that ring toss booth you kept looking at and I got all moody - because delusional me thought you just wanted to bring me to the boardwalk like a date or something."
Conrad took a step back just so he could look at me, his eyes searching me, a tinge of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Belly, I was looking at that ring toss because I wanted to win you Jr. Mint, I was nervous about it too, because I sucked at ring toss.” He laughed, despite himself. “I spent almost 50 bucks trying to win you this goddamn bear, knowing you had been eyeing it all summer.”
Suddenly, somehow, Jr. Mint meant so much more. I didn't even know that was possible. “So, you did want to go to the boardwalk with me that summer?”
He nodded, handing Jr. Mint to me with a firm, “I wanted to go anywhere you were that summer, most summers really,”
It was funny, and a little disorienting, rewriting memories. The more Conrad told me of our entire childhood from his perspective, the more I realized just how much I misinterpreted. I always thought it was me who always loved Conrad, and it wasn’t until the summer Susannah got sick again that he started to have any kind of feelings.
But this Conrad. Open, honest Conrad, he tells me everything - this Conrad tells me about all the times he just wanted to be with me as kids, just to be around me, just wanted to talk to me. It was baffling, really. I spent so much of my time in my childhood thinking Conrad was this dream - this impossible thing - like magic and wishes would have to get involved if I ever could be with him. Yet, I never even had to wish for him. I had him all along, and I just was too determined that Conrad was too perfect to ever want me to see it. I thought he was too perfect for me, like I could never even compare, I could never be his equal. The whole time, he wanted me just as much as I wanted him.
And he was just as afraid as I was to admit it.
I smiled up at him, giving him a teasing gleam as I said, “Oh my god, you had a crush on me?”
He laughed, rolling his eyes at me and grabbing my hips to pull me back into him. “Indefinitely,” his hand cupped my cheek, his gaze locked on mine. It was that look, the weak in the knees, heart skipping beats kind of look. That look I think he might have always given me, and I always convinced myself it was all in my head. I spent my whole life convincing myself Conrad didn't love me - not like I loved him.
But I was wrong. Now that I'm on the other side, I'm not sure how I ever thought he felt anything less.
“You hungry?” he asked me, smiling down at me in a way I felt light headed from.
“What do you think?” I grinned up at him, my nose scrunched up. “I know some of the best places for the most sugary substances you've ever put in your mouth.”
“For what?” his brows furrowed, the tips of his mouth curling up.
“Of course you do,” his thumb brushed over my cheek, then I felt his embrace start to pull away.
Before he could, I gripped onto his forearms, melting back into his arms. “Thank you,” I said softly.
“For him,” I glanced at Jr. Mint. “I don't think I ever thanked you for him, not really. I think I always assumed it was some kind of pity gift, but…" Was it a declaration of love? This whole time, was Jr. Mint always Conrad's way of telling me how he felt? “You actually just got really good at ring toss all for me.”
He smirked before he tucked my hair behind my ear and kissed my forehead. The last time he kissed my forehead was the day I thought I wouldn't ever see him again, and I had to say goodbye. Only, I think saying goodbye to Conrad was what I needed to welcome this Conrad, the Conrad that's always been here, I was just too afraid to ever let him in.
“Come on,” his hand found mine, intertwining our hands together, fitting together like two interconnecting puzzle pieces. “Let's go eat sugary sweets for breakfast and do whatever else Isabel Conklin would do on her birthday in Paris.”
I smiled and nodded. I wanted to ask him when he would be leaving me. I knew he had to go to Brussels, I wasn't letting him miss more than a day tops. But I didn't want to ask, because I didn't want to say goodbye. Not when I just got him back.
We walked down the street, heading to my favorite cafe hand in hand, and he hesitantly said, “You think I could come see you for a few days more?” he was avoiding my gaze, as if I might tell him no. An insane thought, really. “You know, after the conference.”
What he didn't understand quite yet was the moment I let him back in, completely, I was a goner. Conrad Fisher had my whole heart, and there was no changing it now. He was stuck with me forever.
“Of course,” I squeezed his hand, encouraging him to meet my gaze. “When do you need to get back to California?”
He shrugged, looking at me like I was the only thing he cared about. It reminded me of the summer he did everything to save the summer house, the way he said “fuck school, I don't care”. Whenever Conrad loved something, that's all that mattered to him. Only I knew how much being a doctor meant to him. It was his dream, and I wasn't going to let him give that up just to spend more time with me. Even if I totally understand the want to drop everything to be with him, too. “Doesn't matter, you're more important.”
I gave him a look. “Conrad. You still have a job, school,”
“And you're more important.” He smiled at me, and his face told me there was no convincing him otherwise. “Besides, it's just a few days. I'll use my sick days.”
We stopped at the cafe's front door, and I swung out in front of him and took both of his hands in mine. “Well, I would love to have you for as many more days as I can get.”
“You're sure?" the doubt that flickered in his eyes, it hurt knowing I did that. He poured his heart out to me so many times, and my fear of being loved did nothing but make him afraid I would change my mind.
I placed a hand on his cheek and kissed him, chaste and sweet, then I echoed his own words. “Indefinitely,” back to him.
He grinned down at me, his forehead pressing to mine.
“We're going to need to talk about how this is gonna work,” I said in hushed tones, then I pulled back to meet his eyes. “California and Paris aren't exactly a drivable distance.”
“You're right.” He tucked my hair behind my ear again. Every time he did that it did something inside of me, like my heart melting, or my breath getting caught in my lungs. “But for right now, let's just enjoy this day. Together.”
I nodded, pressing my lips together and giving him a smile. I couldn't argue. I didn't want to think about it either. I didn't want to think about him being so far away, again. I felt like my whole life with Conrad was a life of long distance. We only ever got summers together, maybe a Christmas or two. It's part of the reason we fell apart the first time. We never wanted to talk about the hard stuff when we were together - we didn't want to spoil the little bit of precious time we had.
Someone walked out of the cafe and I heard a gasp. We both turned our heads to see it was Celine, a pasty in her hand and her mouth wide open. “You two didn't waste much time, huh?” she teased, looking Conrad up and down and giving my arm a squeeze. She spoke to me in French to say, “I was on my way to tell you happy birthday and hoped a pastry would soothe the sadness that Conrad had to go, but…” she wiggled her brows and smirked. “Clearly there was a change of plans.”
Gemma then came out, a gasp released as she saw the sight of us. She said in French, with a wide grin, “Isobel! I see you finally opened your present!”
I glared at her and told her in French to hush. Then in English I said, “Conrad has to go by end of day to his conference, so if you two excuse us,” and I rolled my eyes at them as I pulled Conrad inside the cafe.
They were giggling and Celine said in French, “Enjoy your present!” before the door closed on them.
I huffed and shook my head, “They're ridiculous,” with a smile still on my lips, because truly nothing could ruin my mood today.
“I like them. They're good for you. You open up around them.”
“Yeah? How so?”
He shrugged, “I don't know, you just seem so open with them. Like you can be your full self.”
I always felt like I could be with them, and the fact that Conrad already picked up on that was crazy. They had seen me at my worst - and they helped me build myself back up. It was impossible for me not to be my full self when they were around.
I was lost in thought when Conrad said, “What should I get us?”
“What?” I looked at him, realizing we were inside the cafe, in Paris, where everything is in French. “Oh, I'll order it,” I squeezed his hand one more time before letting go of him, just long enough to approach the counter and make our order. The woman behind the counter gave me a smile, knowing me from every morning I come here and order the same exact thing. I made my order and she responded in French this time, she said, “I like the hair. It suits you.”
“Mercé,” I blushed. She spoke to me in French, I was too shocked to say anything else back.
She eyed Conrad and smiled, too, noticing his distractingly handsome face and giving me a wink. She then handed me the croissants and the coffees, and Conrad grabbed the coffees so I wasn't juggling foods. He thanked her in French too, his sentence even a little more advanced than mercé, which surprised me.
We walked to a small little table that sat outside. He pulled out the chair for me and sat down the coffee, and as I sat he said, "She's right, you know. Your new hair really does suit you.”
I about choked on my coffee. “Did she - didn't she say that in French?” Was I crazy? Was the lack of sleep getting to me?
“Yeah, I think so,” he nodded slowly, blinking at me, the smallest of smug looks hidden under his innocent facade.
“Conrad Fisher, are you telling me you know French?”
“I mean, kinda,” he shrugged. “I can understand it way more than I can speak it.”
He can understand it. He can understand it??? Oh god. “So you understood Celine? Gemma?”
“Yeah,” he sipped his coffee, nonchalantly. “I mean, I miss words here and there but I get the gist.”
I was in awe. Conrad Fisher would never cease to amaze me. “When did you start learning French?”
"A while back, but I started taking a few classes about a year ago,” he took a bite of the croissant, “when I found out you moved here. Mostly I've taught myself by reading in French - oh and listening to podcasts and books in it.”
I was wagging my head as I watched him, “You never fail to surprise me. Not that I should be surprised, that is a very Conrad thing to do.”
“What, learning a different language?”
I leaned in, my face resting on my fist. “Being exceptionally good at everything.”
He gave me that look, that one he always gave me, the one that said, “We both know that's not true” without ever saying it. “I only ever tried to learn it for you.”
I tilted my head at him. “All for me, huh? Did you think I'd forget English?” I teased.
He smirked. “No, it was more like… remember when were kids and Steven and Jere had this language they had made up- it was complete bullshit where they just spoke gibberish to each other and would pretend they knew what the other said - but you got so mad because you wanted to know their secret language too. Only Jere and Steven wouldn't let you in on the secret, because they liked having something just between them.”
I nodded, “Yeah…” I reached for his hand then, lapping it over his. “You taught me pig Latin instead, and we talked in pig Latin around them just to piss them off.”
“Exactly. Trying to learn French was kinda like that,” he said so casually, that smile on his face that made me want to kiss him.
“To piss off our brothers?” I chuckled at the thought.
“No, to … to have our own language, I guess… so when - so we'd have…” he shrugged, trying to find the right words without sounding pathetic.
“We’d have something just between us,” I stroked the back of his hand, starting to feel tears build. I had to push them back - it was too early in the day. I wouldn't get sad yet. Not when we still had time together. “You should have told me sooner, I wouldn't have done all the talking yesterday. You could've gotten practice in.”
“Nah,” he was gazing at our hands, his mind elsewhere. “I loved hearing you speak it too much - watching you in your element, speaking a language fluently that you worked so hard to accomplish.” He looked up, smiling at me. “Besides, my pronunciation is shit.”
“You should've heard me my first few months here,” I blushed at the thought. “How did I spend so much time studying a language that I could barely speak?”
“I'm sure you were better than you think,”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Trust me, I wasn't.”
I thought about it for a moment, the silence resting between us. His thumb rubbed circles in my palm as we sat, sipping our coffees, munching here and there. I thought about it for a long minute, and then I said, “How long ago was a while back?” He furrowed his brows, so I elaborated with. “Learning French,”
The way his mouth always tinged a smile, like he was trying to hold it back. “Truth?”
“Yup,”
“When you started taking classes.”
My mouth was agape, “In middle school?”
He nodded, “It's been a slow self-taught, but yes.”
There it was again, another detail of Conrad I had somehow managed to completely miss. A devotion I somehow was blinded to, for so many years. Learning French for me, so we could speak French together - it baffled me, because I was so oblivious for so long.
I thought back to what he said about Jr. Mint, and I was trying everything not to beat myself up over it. Conrad Fisher brought me to the boardwalk, way before Susannah got sick again, because he wanted to. He won me Jr. Mint, because he wanted to see me happy. He never cared about other girls - not like he cared for me. I wanted to be mad at myself, spending so many years thinking he never saw me the way I saw him. I wanted to, but I couldn't. Being mad at my younger self didn't accomplish anything, and it wasn't her fault. Who was good at communicating when you were so young and in love? Love was a tricky thing, and being as young as we were, it was inevitable for it to blow up in our faces.
But yet, here we were. In Paris, hand in hand. Loving each other just as much, if not more, than that day on the boardwalk. Only, now, we didn't have any barriers between us keeping us apart.
“We should probably rest today,” I told him, watching him glow under the sunlight. “That way you're not exhausted for your conference.”
“Yeah, whatever works,” he looked so content, so at peace. Conrad didn't often look at peace - even when we were younger, before Susannah getting sick, he always had some kind of life altering thought going through his mind. Susannah always used to tell him he thought too much. “As long as I'm with you, I'm down for whatever.”
I loved him. Everything about him I loved. But something I loved the most about Conrad is how he made me feel. When I was with Conrad, I felt like I could do anything, but I also felt this kind of calmness to everything. Like, I didn't have to do anything at all - it was like this freedom. When I was with Conrad, I felt free.
I leaned over the small rounded table and kissed him, and then I placed myself back in my seat and I sipped my coffee, and I watched him as he sipped his, and even though everything ahead of us was uncertain and scary - I didn't even care. Because I knew that whatever happened, me and Conrad were infinite.
Confessing my truth in swooping, sloping, cursive letters
“Paris is where I got my first letter from him. Real letters, written by his hand, not e-mails. I did write him back, but never sent my letters, not at first, but he still kept sending them, once a month, every month.”
Belly replies to Conrad‘s letters, never sends them, keeps them in a box in her room in Paris. She writes letters, buries them in an envelope and shoves them into a box inside her closet. She doesn’t want to break no contact. Until she does.
main tags : fluff , teacher belly, girldad conrad, slow burn, alternate universe, maybe smut??? who knows!!!
chapters : 4/10?
current word count: 41,785
brief synopsis : conrad fisher is the single father of an eight year old and a first year attending, he has no time to fall in love. or so he thinks until he meets his daughters third grade teacher, belly conklin
i wanted to cross post, i never use tumblr, but maybe some of you all would like to read my bellyconrad fic on ao3 <3
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Summer I Turned Pretty (TV 2022), The Summer I Turned Pretty Trilogy - Jenny Han
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Isabel "Belly" Conklin/Conrad Fisher
Characters: Isabel "Belly" Conklin, Conrad Fisher (The Summer I Turned Pretty), Susannah Fisher (The Summer I Turned Pretty)
Additional Tags: Slice of Life, no real plot just vibes, Kissing, Canon Compliant
Summary:
He didn’t startle when she touched him, and Belly leaned her head against his biceps to look up at his face. He was already smiling, and something warm swooped in her stomach at the sight of his flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes when he finally looked at her.
“Hi, Isabel,” he whispered, low and pleased.
“Hi, Conrad.”
OR A kissing in the kitchen fic. Takes place between Christmas and Prom.
