#christopher briney

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

#100% His Look

[force-dyad]

The Summer I Turned Pretty | 3.11 At Last

[midnightchapter]

3.04 “Last Stand” // 3.11 “At Last”

[riickgrimes]

CHRISTOPHER BRINEY as CONRAD FISHER THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY (2022-2025) 3.02 | "Last Christmas"

[gashofleastresistance]

from yearning, tortured and obsessed to feral alley cats freaky in the sheets

[sloanegabe]

conrad fisher staring at belly conklin (belly's version)

[clearsaturns]

ઇ ࣪˖ Brush fire

Conrad Fisher x Fem!reader. masterlist.

summary: You and Conrad have been best friends for almost four years. When his brother’s wedding arrived, he asked you to go with him as his date, which you gladly accepted.

warnings: Je**miah Fisher. Fluff. Use of y/l/n. The summer I turned pretty season 3 spoilers (exactly from ep 7). English it’s not my first language.

Author note: Hi! So I didn’t really know what to do with this, so i’m thinking about maybe writing a part 2 of this. Also, this is me praying for my baby connie to find something better and be happy forever.

To say your friendship with Conrad Fisher was boring would be an abomination—completely impossible to understand or accept.

You met him about three years ago—through Agnes—at a small get-together with mutual friends. From that moment on, it was as if a spark of electricity had ignited between you two, and neither of you ever looked back.

As the years passed, you got to know Conrad more deeply, and he got to know you. One night on the beach, under a sky scattered with stars, a glowing full moon, and the crashing rhythm of the waves, you opened up about the pain you’d endured with your ex. Not long after, he shared everything about his past in Cousins Beach.

It wasn’t long before you convinced the brown-haired boy that maybe what you both truly needed was therapy. And to your surprise, Conrad agreed that very day.

Maybe he realized it was the best option.

Or maybe, feeling your support, he knew it was finally the right time.

But it couldn’t have been both… right?

Month by month, your friendship became the kind others envied. The laughter was effortless, the touches became second nature, and the tension in your lingering eye contact grew undeniable. But you were just friends, so all of that was normal… right?

Conrad stared nervously at the floor, scratching the back of his neck. “I need your help.”

You smiled faintly, still typing on your laptop. You’d known he had something to say the moment he walked through your apartment door with two coffees and a waffle—your favorites, of course. He always remembered.

“Tell me, Connie.” you replied, eyes still on the screen.

“You know how I told you a few days ago about the wedding…”

You nodded before he could finish. “Jeremiah and Belly. Yeah.”

Finally, he stopped pacing around the couches and sat down across from you. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked you straight in the eyes with a kind of quiet determination.

“I wanted to ask if you’d come with me… as my… date? Or, I mean, just as my plus-one?” He shrugged, tracing slow circles on his knee with his index finger. “If you’re busy, or you don’t want to go, or you already have plans, I totally get it. No pressure.”

“Con…” you began, but he cut you off.

“I think you mentioned something about work this week, something important. I just remembered. Sorry. I really understand if you can’t…”

His gaze dropped again, just as nervous as when he first walked in.

“Conrad!” you exclaimed, shutting your laptop and walking over to him.

Standing in front of him, you leaned down gently, placing your hands on his knees. He looked up, surprised by your sudden closeness, and his eyes met yours—nervous, hopeful, searching.

“I’d love to go with you to your brother’s wedding, Con.” you said softly, your voice warm and steady, like a secret meant only for the two of you.

His expression shifted instantly. The tension in his shoulders melted away, and for the first time in weeks, he seemed to breathe freely. A shy smile tugged at his lips—the kind he only gave when he felt truly seen.

“Really?” he murmured, as if he needed to hear it again to believe it.

“I’d go anywhere with you.” you replied, letting your fingers trace a small circle on his knee, mirroring the gesture he’d made moments earlier. “And if that means standing beside you on such an important day, then there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Conrad let out a quiet laugh, the kind only you could decode. It wasn’t nervous or sarcastic—it was grateful. It was tender.

“Thank you.” he whispered, like the words weren’t enough to hold everything he felt.

And in that moment, with the soft glow of sunset spilling through the window and the scent of coffee still lingering in the air, you knew something had shifted between you.

The salty breeze hit you the moment you stepped out of the car, carrying with it the scent of ocean air and sun-warmed sand. The house at Cousins Beach stood just as Conrad had described—weathered in the most charming way, with its pale blue shutters and wraparound porch that seemed to hold a thousand summer memories.

Conrad lingered beside you for a moment, his gaze fixed on the house. You could tell he was somewhere between nostalgia and resolve. He took a deep breath, then turned to you with a soft smile.

“You ready?” he asked, voice low. “They can be a lot to take sometimes.”

You nodded laughing softly, and together you walked up the porch steps. The door creaked open before you could knock. Jeremiah stood there, barefoot, wearing a linen shirt and that familiar easy grin—though it faltered slightly when his eyes landed on Conrad.

“Hey, man.” Conrad said, his tone calm, almost rehearsed.

“Hey, Connie.” Jeremiah replied, with a giant smile that could almost look fake to you. “It’s been a while.”

There was a pause. Not cold, either warm, just a pause that held a lot of history.

Then a brunette girl appeared, you guessed that it was Belly. She was behind Jeremiah, her expression unreadable. Her eyes flicked to Conrad, then to you, then back to Conrad again.

“Hi.” she said, offering a small smile.

“Hi.” Conrad echoed, then stepped aside, gesturing toward you. “This is—well, you know her name. She’s the one I told you about.”

Jeremiah’s eyebrows lifted, and a slow grin spread across his face. “Ah… so she’s the one you wouldn’t shut up about.”

You laughed nervously, but Conrad didn’t flinch. He just smiled, eyes still on you. His left hand was soft on your back, and you could swear that you felt him caressing it slowly.

“I didn’t talk that much.” he muttered, trying to hide the soft pink coming to his cheeks.

Jeremiah chuckled. “You did. You really did.”

Belly’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, then she stepped forward. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said with her polite tone.

“Nice to meet you too.” you replied, offering a hand she gladly took.

The silence that followed was brief but heavy. Then Jeremiah clapped his hands together. “Well, come in. We’ve got drinks, snacks, and a playlist that’s stuck in 2016.”

Conrad gave you a look—half amused, half grateful—and you followed them inside.

The house was filled with echoes of summers past. Photos lined the walls, laughter drifted from the kitchen, and the sound of waves crashing just beyond the porch reminded you that this place had seen love, heartbreak, and everything in between.

But as Conrad leaned in slightly and whispered, “If it gets to much for you, and you need to take a break just tell me, okay?”

A half smile appeared in your face. “Will do.”

The house was completely charming—just as you’d imagined it after hearing Conrad talk about it. The walls were decorated with family photos, soft blue tones that matched the beachy, nostalgic vibe of the home, and the backyard was stunning, opening up to a breathtaking view of the ocean.

Now you understood why Conrad loved this place so much.

You held a picture frame in your hands, one that had been sitting on the living room table. It showed Conrad and his mom, Susannah, sitting in the sand with the house in the background. They were hugging, both of them wearing huge smiles that made you smile without even realizing it.

“I didn’t know you liked snooping,” said a very familiar voice from the living room.

You quickly placed the frame back where it belonged, feeling like a kid caught doing something mischievous.

“Sorry,” you said, biting your lip and hiding your hands behind your back.

Conrad laughed, watching your reaction. “I’m messing with you. I don’t mind.” He walked over and glanced at the photo you’d just been holding. “You can keep snooping. Pretend I’m not here.”

You smiled when you noticed the shift in his expression as he looked at the picture with his mom. You knew he missed her more with each passing day, but it comforted you to know you’d always be present for him when he needed it—just like he was for you.

“You look just like her,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder.

Physical affection between you two wasn’t constant, but when it happened, it was natural. It didn’t happen every day, only in certain moments—but it never failed to send butterflies through both of you.

“I miss her. More in days like this. Being here.” He tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know what I’d do with all of them on my own.”

You both laughed, glancing out the window toward the backyard. Everyone was singing and jumping into the pool, enjoying the day far more than anyone had expected.

“We should go out there, don’t you think?” you said, raising an eyebrow as Redbird dropped his pants and flashed Jeremiah. “Or maybe not. I don’t think they care.”

You managed to ignore them for a few minutes, but eventually it became impossible. You knew Conrad didn’t always feel comfortable in big social settings, but this was his brother’s day. Deep down, he’d regret not being part of it. So after talking it through, you both decided to head out to the pool.

“Finally! The lovebirds stopped making out!” Jeremiah shouted, raising both hands—each holding a beer.

“We’re not—” Conrad stammered, flustered.

“Sure,” Steven rolled his eyes, then winked at him.

Hours passed as Conrad laughed and shared stories with his brother, Steven, and their friends. Meanwhile, Taylor pulled you into a conversation with Belly and Anika. You got to know them a little, and couldn’t help but genuinely like them.

“Hey, y/l/n!” a familiar voice called from the corner of the pool.

Conrad.

You turned your head. He was pointing to the spot beside him, clearly wanting you to come join him.

When you got to his side, he asked you. “Everything okay?” He couldn’t help but worry about how you were like always.

“Everything is more than fine. In fact they are quite nice.”

Steven interrupted the little conversation, throwing himself into the pool taking a turn in the air, which only made water fall everywhere. You laughed from where you stood near the edge, watching the chaos unfold.

“Classic Steven” he said, laughing at the girl’s reactions. “He’s been doing that since he was ten.” Then he gave you his beer for you to drink a little.

You took a sip, the cold beer being a relief against the heat. “You ever cannonball?”

Conrad smirked. “Once. Broke a pool float and got banned from Belly’s birthday party for an thirty five minutes.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Thirty five? That’s oddly specific.”

“Steven was the judge. He’s always been dramatic.”

You both laughed, and then Conrad looked at you with a funny face. He was floating lazily, arms stretched out, eyes half closed.

“So” he said, cracking one eye open. “I think it’s your turn to tell me things. What’s your most embarrassing summer story?”

You groaned. “That’s a trap.”

“Absolutely.”

You thought for a moment. “Okay. I once tried to impress a guy by pretending I knew how to surf. Got on the board, immediately wiped out, and the board hit me in the face. I had a black eye for a week.”

Conrad burst out laughing. “That’s… honestly impressive. You committed.”

“I committed to the lie. Not the sport.”

He grinned. “I once tried to serenade a girl at a bonfire. Guitar, candles, the whole thing.”

You blinked. “That sounds romantic.”

“It would’ve been, if I hadn’t forgotten the lyrics halfway through and accidentally started singing a Taylor Swift song instead of the one I wrote.”

You snorted. “Which song?”

He looked sheepish. “You Belong With Me.”

You doubled over in laughter, nearly splashing water. “That’s iconic.”

“She didn’t think so. She thought I was making fun of her.”

“Did you get the girl?”

“Nope. But I got a viral video out of it. Steven posted it.”

You floated closer, the water gently lapping between you. The distance was shrinking, but not quite gone. There was something in the way he looked at you—like he was trying to memorize the moment without saying it out loud.

“You’re different here.” you said quietly.

He turned to you, his expression softening. “Different how?”

“Lighter. Like you’re not carrying the whole world on your shoulders.”

Conrad looked away for a second, then back at you. “Maybe I’m just carrying less of the past.”

You nodded, letting the silence stretch. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full of things unsaid. And for some reason, you even started overthinking about it. About the two of you, about everything that has happened all this years.

“Do…”

Jeremiah called out, interrupting you without knowing “Anyone want some burgers?”

Conrad smiled. “We should go before Steven eats all of it.”

You lingered a moment longer in the water, the tension between you like a thread—pulled taut, but not snapped.

As you climbed out of the pool, Conrad offered you his towel, his fingers brushing yours just briefly.

It wasn’t like any other spark.

It felt like a burn that would stay forever marked.

[starkeyarchive]

Even When I’m Mad, You’re Still Mine

conrad x reader

WARNINGS: fighting (not reader and conrad), slightest bit of smut (should I finish it..??)

just conrad getting protective over you after a week of not seeing you and seeing a guy making you uncomfortable

edit!: I did finish it so here’s the smut: STILL MAD, STILL MINE

You hadn’t spoken to Conrad in a week.

It wasn’t a breakup — not technically. No one had said the words. But after that fight, the silence had felt thick enough to swallow you both whole. He’d walked out, jaw clenched and eyes unreadable, and you hadn’t followed. Maybe that was the worst part.

Now, here you were, at some party you hadn’t wanted to go to, drinking something too sweet and too sour from a plastic cup and pretending to laugh at jokes that didn’t land. Anything to feel normal. Anything to not look at your phone again.

Then came the guy who’d been hovering all night. At first, it was harmless small talk. But he didn’t take the hint. Every time you tried to step away, he mirrored it. His smile got more confident. His hand brushed yours a little too long.

“Seriously,” you said with a laugh, trying to stay polite, “I’m not really interested ”

But he smirked. “You’ve been flirting all night. Don’t get shy now.”

You didn’t even get a chance to respond.

“I think she said no.”

The voice sliced through the music. And even before you turned, your heart dropped — and rose — all at once.

Conrad.

He stepped forward, hands clenched at his sides, eyes locked on the guy in front of you like he was daring him to say another word.

The guy snorted. “What are you, her boyfriend?”

Conrad’s jaw ticked. “Yeah. I am.”

It was the first time he’d said that out loud in over a week.

“Didn’t see you around. Thought she was free game,” the guy shrugged. “You don’t show up, someone else will.”

That’s when Conrad shoved him.

Not a push to start a fight — not at first. Just enough to put space between you and the guy, to say back the fuck off without words.

But the guy shoved back, and that was it.

Fists flew.

You tried to step in, but Conrad was already grabbing the guy by the collar, slamming him against one of the beach fence posts. The other guy swung once — missed — before people rushed in to break them apart.

“Conrad, stop!” you said, grabbing his arm, your voice sharp and panicked.

But his eyes were still locked on the guy like he wasn’t in his body anymore.

“He touched you,” Conrad spat. “He put his fucking hands on you.”

“I’m fine,” you said, softer this time, hand sliding down to grip his. “I’m fine now.“

His breathing was heavy. His knuckles red. But he looked at you and then looked away.

You crossed your arms, partly from the breeze, partly from instinct. “You ignore me for a week, and now you get to play hero?”

That got his attention.

“I didn’t ignore you,” he said, voice tight. “I just… I didn’t know what to say after that fight.”

“Then say anything now.”

His eyes flickered down, like he was bracing himself. Then back to yours.

“I’ve been scared I messed everything up,” he said. “That I said too little, and you’d finally be done waiting for me to figure it out.”

“You don’t get to act like you still care,” you said, eyes blazing, “if you’re just gonna disappear when things get hard.”

His voice was raw. “I never stopped caring. I just didn’t know how to stop fucking up.”

You exhaled. A full week of tension cracked open in your chest.

You stared at each other, hearts hammering in your throats.

Then he stepped forward.

Not cautiously. Not gently.

His hand slid to the side of your neck, thumb brushing your jaw as he leaned in. His mouth ghosted over yours, not kissing yet — just close enough to feel.

“I haven’t touched you in a week,” he whispered against your lips . “And it’s driving me insane.”

Your lips parted — to speak, maybe. Or to let him in.

He didn’t wait.

His mouth crashed into yours with all the tension he hadn’t let out during the fight. Hot, desperate, angry with himself. His hands gripped your waist like he needed to be sure you were real. Your finger grabbed his belt loop, pulling him closer.

When he pulled back, just an inch, your foreheads touched. His voice dropped, rough and low.

“Still mad at me?”

You nodded. “So mad.”

His lips brushed your neck. “Good.”

And then he kissed you again — harder this time — like he’d waited all week to say every apology with his mouth instead of words.

Your lips were swollen from his, and his hands were still clutching your waist like he hadn’t realized he’d let go of you in the first place.

You should’ve walked away. Told him it wasn’t enough. That a fight and a kiss and a broken stare weren’t going to fix anything.

But when he leaned in again — mouth brushing your jaw, breath hot against your ear — your body reacted before your mind caught up.

“We’re not done fighting,” you whispered.

He nodded against your skin. “I know.”

And then he grabbed your hand.

You didn’t ask where you were going. You already knew.

The house closest to the bonfire still had people inside — music, chatter, drinks. No one noticed when he pulled you through the back door, no one cared when the bathroom door slammed shut behind you.

His lips were on you again instantly — no hesitation, no sweet apology. Just teeth, breath, heat. You pushed him back against the door, and he let you — but only for a second before reversing it, pinning you with his hips and kissing you like he needed to remind himself he hadn’t lost you.

Clothes came off in angry, hungry movements — his hoodie over his head, your shirt dragged off, fingers fumbling at buttons, belt buckles, whatever fabric stood in the way. His hands were rough from the fight, and they shook when he touched your skin.

He kissed down your neck like he was trying to erase the last week with his mouth. Your fingers curled in his hair, tugging, and he groaned into your throat.

You pulled back just enough to breathe. Just enough to glare at him with half-lidded eyes and say:

“I’m still pissed at you.”

His thumb dragged along the waistband of your underwear.

“Good,” he murmured. “So am I.”

The last thing you heard before he sat you on the bathroom sink was the door lock clicking into place — and the sound of his voice, low and wrecked:

“Let me make it worse before I make it better.”

stop I don’t why I’m so nervous posting this probably because I’ve been inactive for a year but should I actually try writing my first smut and finish this story?

taglist: @lindsaynathi0n, @wearemadeofstardust0, @v4mqvs, @aariahnaa, @congratsloserr