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?
summary: okay so like conrad x reader where she’s belly’s best friend that went to cousins every summer and got with conrad and basically are dating like him/belly in s2 with everything going on with susannah and either while they’re still together or after they break up she goes to brown to tell him she’s pregnant and just very angsty 💗
You weren’t sure of the exact moment you’d lost Conrad. But part of you felt like it was doomed before it had even started. Like he was a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode, to disappear. Sometimes you thought he could see a future with you. And other times it felt like your whole relationship was simply him counting down the days. He broke your heart without ever really having it. The two of you were destined to end, as much as part of you wanted so badly to convince yourself that you wouldn’t.
“I’m just saying (y/n) we can leave any time you want, honestly. I’m obviously glad that you’re coming with me but I totally get it if you want to leave,” Belly assures you from the passenger seat as the two of you turn past the Cousins sign.
“Come on, it’s fine,” You return, “I wouldn’t have offered to drive if I didn’t feel okay about being here. Plus, this place has memories for all of us, I don’t want to lose that either.”
You glance out of the window to the houses passing by the car, the way they all seem to blur into one until you reach that one.
Jeremiah’s car is already parked up outside and him and Steven get out together, looking back as the two of you pull in.
“Well, it’s a good sign his car is here,” Belly points out the four by four parked up closest to the house.
You pull your keys from the ignition and take a deep breath, one that seems to rattle against your chest. For a moment, it all comes flooding back to you.
——Six Months Earlier——
“I really hope you’re not telling me that we drove all this way and you forgot the fucking keys,” You groan, wrapping your arms around yourself and rubbing your hands up your arms to keep the heat in a little.
“It’s a new car, okay? I’m not used to my keys being separate,” Conrad returns coldly, rummaging through his bag to find anything resembling the keys.
“Okay they’re not in there,” You shake your head, “Lets just find somewhere to stay or something.”
He stands up straight and looks at you, frowning, “This weekend was meant to be perfect. Drive all the way here, go to the beach, whole house to ourselves, we were-“
“Hey,” You cup his cheek, brushing a thumb over the skin, “Come on, we’re here together, I don’t care what we do.”
He leans into your touch and turns his chin to press his lips against your palm.
“Actually,” He pulls away from you, “I’ve got an idea.”
“I don’t trust that,” You grimace but he laughs and pulls your hand into his, dragging you behind him.
Both of you pile back into the car and he grins in your direction, driving you back away from the house and down the street in the opposite direction to the way you’d came in. You’d learnt that in the times when Conrad was being spontaneous, it was better to just let him do it. He got an idea and ran with it and it was better to run with him than try to pull him back.
“Okay so where are you taking us?” You ask him as he turns into another corner, eventually stopping the car.
When you look out of the windshield, you can just about make out the shape of the rolling waves in the dark, glistening a little in the clouded moonlight. You’re parked behind the dunes, a single spot in a clearing of the trees, the same trees that gather behind the car like a crowded shelter.
“I’ve got blankets and pillows in the back of the car from when you stayed at my dorm,” He explains, “We can set up a bed in the back, sleep in the car.”
“I love this life of luxury Fisher,” You joke.
“I’m sorry this didn’t work out like we thought it would.”
You reach over and squeeze his hand, “We’re together, aren’t we?”
You both climb out of the car and set up the pillows, blankets and comforters in the back of the car, folding the back seats down to give yourselves more space. Conrad reverses and turns the car so that the trunk faces out to the sea, noting that you’ll thank him for it in the morning when you see the view.
“There we go, that’s pretty good if you ask me,” You grin, “But I’m so tired I think I’d sleep anywhere.”
You get in beside him and both of you shuffle under the covers until you’re comfortable. His long legs fold under the comforter in your direction and you shift again to try and find the right spot.
“Connie I love you but could you please-“
“You what?” He stops you, leaning up onto his elbows.
“I-“ You feel your cheeks burn red hot at the words, “I just meant that I wanted you to move over-“
“You love me?” His voice is soft and full of excitement, his eyes creasing with the intensity of his smile.
You throw your hands over your face, wishing away the embarrassment, “Forget I said anything I didn’t mean-“
You feel him shift beside you until he’s hovering over your form, his hands reaching out to pull each of yours away from your face.
“You love me,” He confirms once again, “I love you more.”
You fight back a smile as you watch him speak the words, letting them echo in the space between you.
“Say it again,” You grin widely, your expression matching his.
Conrad chuckles and leans down to press his lips to yours, soft but yet so certain of himself. Unlike any time he’d kissed you before - this one sealed with love.
—— Now ——
“(Y/n)?” Belly calls over to you, “Are you coming?”
You look up to see all three of them stood at the doorway, leaving you in the driveway towards the house. You shake your head to clear away your reminiscent moments and look back to them.
“Yeah, sorry, just spaced out for a second,” You nod, hurrying your steps a little more in their direction.
When you all get into the house, the sound of his voice is what your ears instantly tune into. So distinct. So clear against the echoing walls.
“Dad I’ll talk to you later,” His voice snaps as he rounds the corner, stopping at the sight of the four of you.
Conrad’s eyes fall to Jere first, move to Belly and to Steven, before landing on you.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
You know he’s speaking to all of you, but you wince like the words were meant for your ears only.
“Enough of the knight in shining armour act, Conrad. We’re here to help,” Jeremiah defends, “This house means just as much to us as it does to you.”
“I don’t want to hear it, okay? I’ve got it under control,” Conrad returns, dragging a hand through his hair as he tears his eyes away from you.
“Really? Because it doesn’t fucking seem like it,” Jeremiah scoffs, “Be fucking honest with yourself Conrad, you’re just as lost as we are.”
“I can handle it!” Conrad raises his voice and you flinch instantly, your hands clenching as the anxiety courses through you.
His eyes drop back to you and his face softens, as if instantly aware of his impact.
And it takes you right back.
—— 3 Months Earlier ——
“I’m just saying I think it’s just a way better movie, you know?” You persist, opening the passenger side door of the car, “And the storyline is just so much better it’s like-“
You pause when you see him, his eyes drifting off to the road, his ears turned off to your words.
“Con? Are you listening?”
He glances up and back to you, “Oh, um, sorry, what did you say?”
You frown just a little and place your hand over his on the gearstick of the car, “Is something going on? You’ve been quiet ever since we got to the theater.”
It’s as if another light switches off in him when you ask, “No, no, I’m okay.”
“Con,” You reach up to brush the hair away from his forehead, “Talk to me.”
“I just-“ He pauses at your touch, as if pocketing it, “There’s just a lot going on, you know? With the funeral, and Jere, and college and Stanford and… I just don’t know how much more I can take.”
“Nobody’s asking you to take on all of this by yourself, okay?” You cup his cheek, “I’m here, you’ve got Laurel and Steven and Belly, you’ve got a whole family of people that want to help. Do you know that?”
He closes his eyes for a second and nods, and you move your hand down to his chest to feel the beating of his heart against you.
“You don’t need to do everything on your own,” You repeat, “I’m here.”
He places his hand over yours but something feels empty, like his heart isn’t beating for you in the way you’d felt before. His eyes glaze over a little like they don’t really see you but you repress it anyway.
The two of you drive back to his college dorm and collapse into his bed to watch a movie, or two, or three. It seemed like Conrad’s batteries had already run out for the day and you’d do anything in your power to let him recharge. You’d put on his favourite films, and laid down on his chest as he tucked one arm underneath his head. His other arm wasn’t around you, however, it was holding his phone, scrolling through aimlessly.
“Con?” You glance up at him, “Do you want to do something else? We don’t have to watch this if you don’t want to, we co-“
“It’s fine,” He snaps harshly, not glancing away from the blue light screen.
You swallow the lump in your throat and lean up onto your elbows, bumping against the wall of his dorm in his single bed.
“Okay well something’s obviously not fine,” You comment, “Talk to me Conrad let me-“
“Just fucking stop with your ‘talk to me shit’,” He doesn’t raise his voice but he practically spits the words at you, tossing his phone down onto the side, “I don’t need you to be a therapist, okay? I don’t need that.”
“I’m not trying to be your therapist, I’m trying to be your girlfriend,” You defend, feeling the strength slip from you in the tremble in your hands.
“Well maybe I don’t need that either!”
He raises his voice then and you can tell he regrets it. He pushes himself up from the bed and stands, dragging a hand through his hair.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You speak and instantly hate yourself for the way the words tremble on your tongue, the way your whole body feels numb.
“I-“ He stops himself, pacing a little across the room, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then what did you mean it like? Because if that is what you want, then that’s what you’ll get. I’ll leave. I’ll go right now,” You sit up on the bed, “I’m not waiting around for you to change your mind.”
“(Y/n) I didn’t mean-“
“Go fuck yourself Conrad,” You state, standing up and grabbing your shoes and bag from the floor.
“(Y/n)!” He reaches out a hand and grabs you, turning you around to him.
“Tell me you want me to stay,” You look between each of his eyes, tears spilling out of your own, “Tell me you want me to be here, that you want me to be your girlfriend, that you still meant what you said when you told me you loved me. Tell me you want this.”
He’s silent, his lips parting with no words, his eyes filling like yours.
“Goodbye, Con.”
—— Now ——
You were stood in the shell of the room you used whenever you were in Cousins, it feeling oddly empty without Susannah’s touches dotted around. She’d leave you fresh towels on the sheets, and a new candle burning on the nightstand. This time, those little bits were missing.
Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept in this room. It got to a point where you’d stay in Conrads every night, even before the two of you were together. It started with late night conversations and transpired into you falling asleep on one side of his bed, then the two of you coming back late and stumbling through the dark into his room, then the two of you falling in love. You shake the thought away as quickly as it had arrived.
You sit down on the mattress and take a deep breath, glancing around at the room that you’d practically been brought up in - every summer spent within these walls. You weren’t ready to lose this house, it was simply another change in your life you weren’t ready to accept.
Your hand moves to rest on your stomach, already swollen and growing underneath the baggy t-shirt you had on. You take a deep breath and smooth over the skin, terrified of the idea of life being beneath your touch.
Before you can think any more, there’s a light knock at the door and you quickly drop your hand away.
“Sorry, it’s me,” Conrad pokes his head around the door, “Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
You shift over on the bed and he sits down beside you, glancing at your eyes before looking down to your tummy, and back up, as if he’s checking you over.
“How are you feeling?”
You swallow the lump in your throat.
——Two Months Earlier ——
The drive to Brown had never churned your stomach like this. Maybe that was the morning sickness - did that happen this early? Another thing to google.
You hadn’t spoken a word to Conrad since you’d left that day. The funeral was two weeks after, and you’d avoided him for the entire day. You didn’t need anything else to make the day worse, and neither did he.
But, only a couple of days after that, you’d seen lines on a test that confirmed all of your worst fears, all of your dreaded expectations.
You were pregnant. A month pregnant, from just before you and Conrad had split up. Could the timing be any worse?
You pull up into the parking lot and let out a shaky breath. You still knew his schedule from when you’d meet him from classes or know when he’d be free for you to call him. He’d be coming out of a biology lab any minute and going to his favourite spot by the water on campus just behind the building that nobody seemed to think existed. That’s where you wait, on one of the benches just on the edge of the water, your entire body trembling.
You hear him before you see him, mumbling a goodbye to one of his classmates as he circles around the corner towards the back of the building. He looks down at his phone before stuffing it back into his pocket, sighing deeply before looking up. His entire body stops in its tracks.
“(Y/n),” He exhales, closing the space between you until he’s stood in front of the bench, “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk,” You manage to force out, clenching your hands together to stop them from shaking.
“Yeah, you’re right, we do,” He crouches down in front of you, “I’ve been thinking abo-“
“Con,” You cut him off, watching as the fragments of hope seem to dissipate from his eyes, “I’m pregnant.”
You see his shoulders drop a little as if the heaviest weight has towered down onto them.
“You’re-“ He clears his throat, “You’re pregnant.”
“About a month,” You confirm, “Before you ask, yes it’s definitely yours and no I have no idea what I’m doing.”
He seems to compose himself quickly, kicking into fight or flight mode, and he drops his books onto the floor, shifting so that he’s sat beside you. Cautiously, he reaches out and takes your hands into his.
“Are you okay?”
“Con did you not hear what I said?” You scoff, unable to keep eye contact with him for any longer.
“I know what you said, but I want to know if you’re okay first.”
“Well it’s not exactly been the easiest month,” You pull one hand free from his and drag it through your hair, letting him still hold your other cold hand between his, “And I know you have a lot going on and I’m sorry that this is awful timing but I-“
“Woah, woah, woah, don’t apologise for anything,” He shakes his head, “This isn’t your fault (y/n).”
You’re silent.
“And, hey, we’ll figure it out. Whatever we choose to do, whatever you choose to do, we’ll make it work. And we can-“
“See that’s the thing though, isn’t it Conrad? There isn’t a we anymore.”
He pauses, his grip loosening on you as if his hands have gone numb. His eyes drop to the floor before he glances back up, seemingly holding less hope than he had before.
“We’re not together anymore and this isn’t going to be the reason that changes,” You let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding, “Of course you need to know because this is as much your baby as it is mine, but we’re not… how do we even begin to raise this baby when we can’t even take care of ourselves?”
“We’ll figure it out,” He nods as if trying to force some sort of certainty from him and into you, “We’ll do our research and we’ll speak to the doctor and we’ll read all the books and… we’ll make it work.”
You look down at your tummy, across to where his hand held yours, back up to his eyes - and it all just feels… numb. He wasn’t yours, and yet you were carrying his baby. You weren’t his, and yet this news had just changed his entire existence. A baby. You feel your stomach somersault once more and let out a shaky breath, no longer breathing for you but breathing for two.
—— Now ——
“Your scan is soon, right?” Conrad asks, “I did some research and they said that by now you should be able to-“
“Con,” You cut him off, looking down at your hands in your lap.
He frowns, “What is it?”
“I need you to be honest with me,” You let out s breath, “I need you to tell me if this is what you want. Because if it’s not, you can jump ship. I won’t hate you for it, I won’t resent you. But you need to decide whether this, all of this, is what you want.”
“(Y/n),” He speaks your name like it’s a breath clinging to his lips, “You seriously think I’d leave you to do this by yourself?”
You half-laugh, tears brewing in your eyes, “I wouldn’t blame you.”
“Hey,” He takes both of your hands into his, turning both of you to face each other, “A whole lot of stuff in my life is shitty right now, and I’ve made a lot of really fucked up decisions that I can’t take back. But not this. This is my lifeline (Y/n). You and this baby, it’s my lifeline.”
You swallow the lump in your throat.
“I’ll be better, I’ll be better than I was, I’ll do it all better.”
You look into his eyes, eyes that you’d once been so sure you could trust with your life. The lips that had kissed promises into you that you were sure would never break. The hands that you once thought would catch you from any fall. But all of it holds such an uncertainty now. Those eyes are the same ones that didn’t shed a tear when they broke your heart. And those lips are the same ones that yells and curses spilled so freely from. Those hands are the same ones who no longer wanted to hold you when you needed them the most. And that’s why, despite the certainty you want to convince yourself is held behind his words, you drain all emotion from your voice and say;
