#tsitp conrad

[g1rld1ary]

some soft conrad fisher x fem reader smut pretty please !! maybe a LITTLE breast sucking…

lazy days & loving touches - conrad fisher x fem!reader

wc: 1219 summary: you and conrad go to cousins for a long weekend and get busy... warnings: smut mdni, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it guys!!), breast/nipple play, kissing, oral (fem receiving) me: hi honey thank u sm for the request!! was struck with inspo as soon as u sent it!! i'm still v unsure in writing smut so dont be afraid to give feedback!

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Soft sighs filled the room, both of you melded together into one being. You were in Conrad’s bedroom in the Cousins house, the two of you stealing a long weekend together by the beach.

You loved the beach house, though you hadn’t grown up there like the Fishers or Conklins had. You’d only been recently introduced to it since becoming Conrad’s girlfriend, but it was the kind of place where you could imagine being happy for the rest of your life.

Certainly, at least, you were currently existing in perfect contentedness.

Conrad’s lips were plush and soft against your own, tasting slightly of the vanilla bean lip balm you’d recently given him. His tongue slipped into your own mouth, smiling at your breathy moan.

One of his hands snaked beneath your waist, gripping you tight as he lay on top of you. The weight was comforting, warm like your favourite blanket. His other hand rested on your neck, thumb brushing the skin of your cheek.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. Both your legs intertwined under the light cotton sheets, perfect for the lazy summer day.

Conrad shifted his kisses down to your neck, sucking and licking as you giggled.

“Connie,” You moaned, “Feels so good.”

He chuckled against your skin, moving down lower.

“Yeah?” He asked with a teasing lilt. Conrad licked around the curve of the breast exposed above the hem of your tank top before sucking hard. You subconsciously pushed your chest up into him, jerking as he bit into the fat of your breasts. You whined his name, pulling on his hair.

You’d never been more grateful to go braless than when Conrad travelled further down, teeth grazing your nipple through the thin cotton fabric.

Seeing your pleasure, he carried on, free-hand bunching your top up so he could stare down upon your boobs.

“So fucking pretty,” He mumbled before diving back in, mouth sucking on one pink nipple as his hand moved to torture the other. You were already a mess, and you’d barely started.

You took the initiative to remove your shirt, flinging it across the room. Conrad’s guitar made a discordant echo as the fabric landed on the neck. Neither of you paid it any attention, Conrad practically devouring your breasts as you pawed at his shirt, silently begging him to take it off.

You propped yourself up on your elbows as Conrad pulled away for a moment, struggling almost comedically to get his shirt off in his desperation. Maybe Conrad wasn’t as built as his younger brother, but that couldn’t have concerned you less. You thought he was perfect, and gave him your best bedroom eyes to convey it.

Conrad watched you, staring up at him with lidded eyes under thick lashes. The corners of his lips twitched in an almost smile before he dove back into you, stealing a passionate kiss from your lips as his hands wandered down to the waistband of your white linen trousers, fiddling with the button.

You helped him shimmy the trousers and your panties down your legs, landing in a pile on Conrad’s floor.

Conrad kept his eyes on you as his fingers crept closer to where you needed them most, your breathing shallow as he teased. When his nimble fingers finally made contact with your clit you yelped, hips bucking up to create more friction.

“Calm down, baby. I’m not gonna let you go unsatisfied,” He teased you, floppy hair falling in front of his face as he lowered himself down to be level with your crotch.

Conrad only managed one polite lick before he was devouring you, mouthing at your pussy like it was the last time he’d ever eat. All you could do was sigh and moan and writhe under his attention.

“Oh, Connie, you treat me so well,” You babbled, hands fisting the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself.

If you thought Conrad’s mouth was heavenly, it was nothing compared to when he slid one long digit inside you, stretching you out.

“Need you, Con,” You mumbled, trying to wriggle out of his grip. He was reluctant to let you go, enjoying giving as much as you were enjoying getting.

“Need me how, angel?” He emerged, chin glistening with your juice.

“Wanna ride you.” Conrad’s face broke out into a grin, the pretty kind you loved being the cause of.

“Yeah?” He asked, sounding almost disbelieving. You nodded, producing an affirmative hum.

Conrad sprang into action, climbing up the bed to sit against his headboard, shimmying out of his shorts and boxers. He held out his hand, and you spat in it, watching in fascination as he jerked himself off with a few languid strokes.

You climbed on top of him, legs straddling his own brilliant thighs. There was a moment of quiet as you lined Conrad up with your entrance. You both moaned as you sank down on his length, holding each other like you were the only ones left on earth.

You smashed your lips against his, hands wandering over his body as you began to lift and sink on Conrad’s erection, the friction sending shudders up through your body.

Conrad’s eyes were glued to your breasts, staring as they bounced up and down in time with your movements. Without warning, he attached himself to you again, teeth catching your nipple.

He sucked, hard, his other hand drifting up your body so that both buds were stimulated, breathy sighs escaping without your consent.

“So handsome,” You admired him, eyes barely open as you focused on keeping a steady rhythm. “You’re so good to me, Con. I love you, I love you so much.” You blabbered, pressure building where the two of you joined.

“My girl,” He mumbled in response, face in the crook of your neck so his breath tickled your skin. “Making me feel so good. I love you.”

You traded whispered declarations of love and admiration as Conrad began thrusting up into you, both on the very edge of falling apart.

“Come on, beautiful. Come for me.” Conrad’s words, the earnestness and devotion, sent you over the edge, shaking until you slumped into your boyfriend’s chest.

Your erotic show was too much for Conrad to handle, and he followed soon after you, holding you tight to him as you felt him twitch and spill inside you.

When you were both finished, Conrad manoeuvred you into a lying position, still inside you. You lay intertwined, syncing your breaths until you felt like a singular being.

“Thank you,” You mumbled, hand threading through his hair.

“For what?” Conrad huffed a quiet laugh, “You did all the work.”

“For loving me. I’ve never felt the way I feel with you, Conrad.”

Conrad didn’t reply, just kissing your temple and pulling your head closer to his chest.

You both fell asleep in the golden light of the afternoon, sheets strewn haphazardly around your legs. You hoped this was what the rest of your summers would feel like: post sex glow, sinking sun, and Conrad Fisher growing older with you and never letting you go.

[matchpointfaist]

-`♡´- "so much for summer love, saying 'us', cause you weren't mine to lose."

╰› august - starring conrad fisher.

synopsis: it had always been you and conrad. you'd loved him when you hadn't even known what love really was, and he felt the same. you start to think love isn't enough when life tears the two of you apart, only to rekindle in the dead of summer, alone in the beach house.

warnings: eventual smut, but like they get freaky asf, conrad king of yearning, , angst, not timeline canon, ex's, character death and cancer mentioned

wc: 8.3k

notes: conrad fisher my close personal friend. i adore you. bonus points if you can name all the taylor lyrics i snuck in here, also conrad munch confirmed. ALSO i might stop writing these out of order. don't sue me

you'd learned what love was from disney movies, from your mom and dad kissing in the kitchen, from the slow songs that filled your house on sundays when there was nothing to do but clean and laze around. each time you pictured it, your prince charming, your sunday kind of love, you pictured green eyes, messy brown hair, freckles and suntanned cheeks. conrad. in every book, in every song on the radio, in every film rolled kiss, there he was. at the end of every school year, the relief you felt wasn't from classes being dismissed. it was him, always him, waiting for you in cousins, your very own heaven. he had his mothers eyes, her kindness, her gentle touch. you had your mother's ability to fall into a fisher's orbit, natural as anything, attaching to him just as she had susannah. conrad beck fisher, the love of your life, even before you were old enough to truly understand what it meant.

the first time you were sure of it, he was fussing over your injured knee after you'd fallen off your bike, never once scolding you for crying like your brother and jeremiah had. "it's gonna be okay," he'd said softly, so grown up even when he was so young, wiping your blood on his shirt like he didn't mind the stain. you'd thought, then, that that's how you'd like to be treated forever. he was always there, cleaning up messes, bandaging scrapes, like he didn't realize how rare that was. loving him was as easy as breathing, when it was all you knew.

years later, when you were old enough not to need his help at every turn, the love only grew. you didn't always need him, but he was always there, just in case you did. you kissed him that summer, the year you turned fifteen. he'd taken you out to the beach, your birthday gift tucked safely into his back pocket. "it's not much," he said as you tore into the neatly wrapped paper, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched you, "but you deserved something special," you slid the box open, and there it was, glittering and new. a small chain with a c dangling from it. "for cousins," he clarified, rubbing the back of his neck, "so you always have a part of it with you, no matter where you are," "oh, conrad," your fingertip traced the letter, tears threatening to spill over your lash line, "i love it,"

"are you sure? i know it's not a lot, but-" you set the necklace down carefully, leaning forward, nearly kissing him, "i promise it's perfect," "good," he swallowed, and you could hear his throat shift, "you deserve it," you sat still for a moment, heart racing, your nose nearly bumping his, "can i kiss you?" "what?" he blinked, like he'd misheard you, "i- yes, yeah, please," he'd pulled you forward at the same time you'd leaned in, your lips crashing together, messy and uncoordinated. you were breathless when you pulled away, cheeks warm, giddy with happiness, "was that okay?" "that was perfect," he'd smiled, eyes bright, "i didn't know you felt that way, i would've- i don't know, i would've said something sooner,"

"that's okay," you laughed, too happy to mind, pulling the necklace from the box carefully, "help me put this on?" "of course," he nodded quickly, brushing your hair from your neck, carefully clasping it. when you turned to face him, he traced the silver lightly, straightening the charm, "happy birthday, honey," "thank you, con," you hummed, nearly giggling as he leaned in to kiss you again, light and soft. he walked you back up to the house when it had gotten too late to stay out, pausing at your door, eyes on your lips, "goodnight," "goodnight," you whispered, standing on your tiptoes and kissing his cheek before disappearing behind the door, smiling to yourself. he stood out in the hall, fingers lingering on the spot your lips had just been.

after that, you were inseparable, even more than usual. you spent every second of the summers together, and when he got into college, he'd drive up to see you through the year. time flew by, a year and then two, then before you knew it, it had been three years of nearly perfect happiness. you'd done it all together, you'd gone to his graduation and he'd been at yours, flowers in hand. you'd seen him off to college, then welcomed him back on breaks. countless hours on facetime, a constant stream of texts, everything. it all changed when susannah's cancer came back.

he became withdrawn, quiet, even angry at times. nightly calls became more sporadic, and his texts were short, the lack of affection clear. he didn't visit on his fall break, gave you some last minute excuse about falling behind on coursework. you told yourself it didn't matter, that it was normal, that all couples had rough patches. you'd work through it, because it was conrad. the behavior continued, only worsening, and soon enough it was january, and you were packing to move to new york, a long contemplated decision.

conrad pulled into the driveway of your parents house the night before you were set to fly out, bags under his eyes and an uneasiness in his demeanor. "hey, honey," he murmured as you met him outside, smiling wide, throwing your arms around his shoulders. "missed you s'much, connie," your voice was muffled by his neck as you clung to him, standing on your tiptoes, his arms around your waist. "missed you too," he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, pulling back to look at you as if he was surveying your face for damage, "you're so beautiful," you grinned, cheeks warming under his praise like it was the very first time, "stop it," you giggled, pulling him inside behind you, "i'm sure you're exhausted from the drive. do you wanna lay down?" he only nodded, following you up the stairs, the rest of the house already dim and quiet.

"i can't believe i'm leaving," you sighed, curling up on your twin size mattress beside him, "i guess it's not that far, though," "not that far," he repeated, fingers tracing your spine absentmindedly, "it's 3000 miles," "good thing there's planes," you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, "we're gonna be fine," he didn't answer, just lied there, his chest rising with steady breaths. "con?" you spoke after a moment, a hint of worry creeping into your voice. "hm?" he hummed, eyes closed. "we're gonna be fine, right?" "you didn't seem that concerned about it when you made the decision," it came out, rough and quiet, like he hadn't meant to say it, "but yeah. we'll be fine,"

"i asked you," you sat up, pressing your back against the headboard, "you told me to go. even when i said i'd stay," "what makes you think i want you to stay?" he sounded so tired, so resigned, "i want you to do what's best for you, and if you feel like that's new york, then it's new york," "then why do you sound so mad?" "jesus," he ran a hand over his face, sighing and sitting up, "i'm just- i just think maybe if you leave," he trailed off, the sentence dangling in the air, open ended. "what?" you leaned forward, brows furrowed, "you think what, conrad?" "i think 45 hours is a long drive, and 6 hours is a long flight, and i think i'm not crazy about my girlfriend moving to the farthest place she can away from me but i can't say that," he took in a breath, sharp and quick, "i think i'm scared of the inevitable and i don't want us to end up hating each other,"

"the inevitable," you echoed, voice hollow, "you think it's inevitable? you think we can't survive some time apart? we've been doing it this whole time, conrad," "no," he shook his head, running a hand through his hair, "we've been doing stanford to portland. that's nothing compared to this," "so what, then, you think we just can't manage it? like if i go, that's it?" "i think i'm scared," his voice cracked under the weight of everything he couldn't tell you, "i'm terrified and i'd rather cut our losses than end up ruining what we had," "cut our losses?" you scoffed, watching him pace your room, wringing his hands, "that's great, conrad, really. you make it sound so noble,"

"stop it," he pleaded, closing his eyes like it would slow it all down, "please, i'm trying to do the right thing here. you'll have a good life in new york, and i don't want to hold you back from that," "you're the only thing i want," you said surely, "i know i'll have a good life there, but i want you in it," "we'll only end up hurting each other worse if we let this drag out," he said quietly, " don't you get it? i'm trying to protect you," "so you've made up your mind?" you asked, afraid of the answer, "is that why you came here? to say goodbye?" "it's not goodbye," his eyes met yours, desperate and wide, "just- maybe we shouldn't pursue this," "oh my god," you exhaled, hands shaky, "you're serious," he was quiet for a moment, then, "yeah. yeah, i guess i am,"

that night, for the first time in your life, you watched conrad leave when you needed him to stay. you sobbed, chest aching, the smell of his cologne still dusting your sheets. you cried for your loss, for the life you'd have to build without him, for the exhaustion in his eyes as he walked out of your front door, out of your life. you cried for the idea that he was okay with this, with leaving you behind. miles away, he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles were white, driving in silence all through the night. he didn't let himself cry, didn't let himself mourn what he'd ruined. he tried his hardest not to picture the expression on your face as you'd shut the door behind him, not to imagine the way you'd cried after he left.

the next morning, you did the only thing you could do. you got on the plane at your scheduled time, said goodbye to your parents, put on a brave face like you weren't breaking by the second. new york would be different, you told yourself as you watched the only real home you'd ever known disappear behind low hanging clouds. a fresh start, a new life, a reset from everything you were leaving, from the sudden, unprecedented pain conrad had caused. you would be happy, even if you missed him.

manhattan was everything you dreamed of. the nyu campus was vast and sprawling, full of open minded people, full of promise and possibility. months passed, and you were almost good at pretending you didn't think of him. you made new friends, threw yourself into your classes, joined clubs and spent every free moment keeping yourself occupied. your life was good, your friends loved you, you were really, truly, happy. you were walking home one night, slightly tipsy, very exhausted, when your phone rang. you fished it from your bag, brows furrowing when jeremiah fisher's name flashed across the screen. "jere?" you answered, pressing it to your ear, stopped in your tracks, "what's going on? are you okay? is conrad okay?" "it's my mom," it came out in a choked sob, "i- she's gone,"

your heart stopped for a moment, your breath catching, the phone nearly slipping from your hands. "what?" "she was sick, they- i thought we'd have more time," you could hardly even make out his words, "please come home. conrad needs you. we both need you," "it's gonna be okay, jere," you lied with a surprising ease, too close to coming apart, teetering on the edge, "i have to call my mom, okay? you and con take care of each other," you hung up, chest burning as you dialed your mother's number with shaking hands. "mommy?" it was something you hadn't called her in years, but it slipped out anyway, "is it true?" "yeah, baby," her voice was shaking, raw, "you need to come home, okay? i'll schedule your flight,"

the day you landed in cousin's, it was storming. it felt fitting, oddly poetic, in the painful wake of susannah's death. you hadn't even known she'd been sick, and the thought pressed at the forefront of your mind without relent, urgent and searing. if you'd known, maybe you could've seen her, could've been with her. you knew, distantly, that she wanted it this way. she was so selfless, never wanting to upset or inconvenience anyone, even in death. your parents hadn't arrived at the beach house yet, the result of a delayed flight, so you were left to face it alone, the key heavy in your hand as you twisted the lock, your carry on dragging behind you.

inside, it was hollow, quiet, dreary in her absence. "jere?" you called through the rooms, stepping almost cautiously, like you might disturb her memory, "are you here?" you were only met with silence as you continued to your bedroom, setting your suitcase across the bed, eyes falling on the framed photo of you, susannah, and conrad that stayed on the bedside table. you picked it up, hands shaking, tracing the line of her smile, of the boy right next to her with the same expression. the door creaked downstairs, but you allowed yourself one last moment, one more glimpse at the woman that had helped raise you, hot tears threatening to spill over. the hardwood groaned under the weight of steps, and then he was there, standing in your doorway like a ghost. "conrad?" you took in a breath, nearly dropping the photo, your eyes raking over him.

he'd lost weight, eyes hollow, cheeks sunken in from exhaustion, "hey," he finally said, voice cracking, "i didn't know you'd made it in," "i got on the first flight out," you took a tentative step closer, "conrad, i'm-" "don't," he said quickly, almost panicked, "don't say anything," "okay," you swallowed, eyes burning, "are you okay?" he nodded, squeezing his eyes closed before forcing them open, like it would change reality, "i'm fine," he lied too easily, "how was your school year?" 'really?' you thought to yourself, 'that's what he asks about?' "it was fine," you said softly, watching as he ran a hand through his hair, "yours?" "i took a year off," he said, looking down at the floor. it hit you, he'd only been one short flight away. cousin's was only a 9 hour drive from new york. he'd broken up with you because of distance, only to come home? you shoved the thoughts down, not that it mattered anymore, and cleared your throat.

"i know you said not to say anything," you started, "but i just- i'm so sorry, conrad. i had no idea she was sick," "i know you didn't," he murmured, "i made sure no one knew. she asked me to," "what?" you blinked, shocked, "you knew?" "of course i knew," he said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, "i took off to take care of her. she begged me not to tell anyone, not to tell you or your mom. jere only found out because he opened mail from the doctor's office about treatment," "oh my god," you exhaled shakily, "con, i had no idea. you shouldn't have had to do that all alone," he met your eyes, and your heart stuttered, "it was what she wanted," he said after a beat, "it was the least i could do,"

you took a step forward, reaching for him like he might dart away, but instead, he leaned into you, practically collapsing into your arms. he didn't cry, didn't allow himself, but you knew him enough to know how badly he was hurting. he sagged against you, breathing heavy, hands grasping at your shirt like he needed to anchor himself. "i'm so sorry," you whispered, rubbing his back, coaxing him to relax. the rest of your apology was unspoken; i'm sorry i wasn't there, i'm sorry i didn't fight for you, i'm sorry you had to do this alone. the most important one, though, left your lips quietly, "i'm so sorry she's gone, conrad," he pulled away after a moment, avoiding your gaze, "i have to go," he sounded like he regretted it, "i have to meet my dad and jere to go over her will. i'll see you tonight, probably," "yeah, of course," you nodded, watching him turn to leave, "see you,"

the next few days were a blur. your family flew in, the boys stayed busy with funeral preparations. you felt like you were just watching it go by, a bystander to your own grief, unable to do or say anything to make it better for anyone. the day of the funeral came too quickly, catching you off guard though you'd had days to prepare, a stark reminder of the reason you were all together again. you went through the motions, zipped up your black dress, slipped into flats, brushed your hair, like any of this meant anything. there were coordinators downstairs, putting out vases of hydrangeas, handing out memorial pamphlets. her entire life, reduced to a sheet of paper.

you sat beside your parents in the foyer, dazed as you watched it all play out. "susannah wanted a celebration of life," the preacher said, solemn and gentle, "please stay after service and enjoy visitation here in her treasured home. we'll be adjourning after some words from her eldest son, conrad," you blinked back into focus, lips parted as you watched him move to the front of the room, the preacher stepping aside. you thought, as he stood there, that conrad had never looked older than he did in that moment. but then, a blink later, he'd never looked so young, so afraid.

"loving my mom was a pleasure to everyone that knew her," he started, voice shaky, "she was, and forever will be, my guiding light. not only did she love me and jeremiah, but she loved everyone she came in contact with. she loved my dad, she loved her best friend," his eyes met yours for just a moment, "and her best friend's family was raised as our own. every good thing about me comes from her, and i can only hope to be half as good as she was. i know her love and guidance will continue to follow me throughout my life, as it will for all of you. thank you for coming," he stepped aside, immediately going to comfort jeremiah, and your heart broke impossibly more.

after the service, conrad disappeared upstairs, leaving adam and jeremiah to handle the sympathetic looks and apologetic frowns. you'd expected him to return, brave mask back in place, but thirty minutes passed, and he was nowhere to be found. you tentatively padded up the staircase, the aged wood creaking beneath your feet, your body gravitating towards his closed bedroom door like a magnetic pull. you knocked lightly, pressing your ear to the door, "conrad? are you alright?" your brows furrowed when he didn't reply, and you considered that maybe he wasn't in there after all, but you twisted the doorknob anyway, just to make sure. your eyes fell on him immediately. he was on the edge of his bed, arms around himself, rocking back and forth like it was involuntary.

"con," you exhaled, closing the door behind you, stepping towards him, "hey, are you okay?" he looked up at you, face wet with tears, cheeks splotchy, and you acted from pure instinct and memory, sitting beside him and putting your arm around him, nearly crying yourself. "you're okay," you whispered, rubbing his back like you had the day you arrived, "it's okay, connie. i'm right here," he fell into you, his head on your lap, sobs racking his body. "who am i supposed to talk to?" he choked out, fingers grasping the skirt of your dress, "what am i supposed to do?" "i know," you said weakly, combing your fingers through his hair, "i know you're scared. you don't have to be strong,"

"she told me to watch out for jere," his voice cracked, high for a moment, "to take care of him. how am i supposed to do that? i can't even- fuck, i don't even know how to take care of myself," "you've always been the tough one. she was just saying what she thought was best," you had a momentary, rare, flash of anger towards susannah. how could she put this on conrad? first her sickness, now the pressure of caring for his brother? it was clearly crushing him. "this won't go back to normal. it hasn't been normal in years, i don't even know what i'm supposed to do now," "i know," you murmured, "she loved you so much, conrad. i'm so sorry,"

"i can't believe she's gone," he'd stopped crying, but sounded so tired, so hollow, "there's so many things i should've told her," "she knows," you hoped it sounded as soothing as it felt to you, "she knew everything about all of us, even if we didn't know. she paid attention," "she left letters," he sat up, rubbing his face, clearing his throat, "i should've given it to you as soon as you got here, i'm sorry," "she left one for me?" you blinked, surprised, terrified of the contents, of the way they would make you feel, "can i read it?" "of course, yeah," he took a breath, smoothing out his suit and moving to his desk, pulling a blue envelope from the drawer, your name scrawled across it. "you should be alone when you read it," he said softly, "or i can get your mom," "i'll be okay," you traced the loops of her handwriting, chest aching, "i'm gonna take it to my room, okay? i'll be down soon," "okay," he nodded, eyes lingering on yours, but forced himself to let you go.

𝓈𝓊𝓃𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑒,

𝒾 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒾 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓂𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒. 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒷𝑜𝓇𝓃, 𝒾 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝓎 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒹𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒. 𝒾 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌, 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃, 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑒 𝒶 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝑒. 𝒾'𝓋𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑔𝓇𝑜𝓌, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒾 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒷𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓊𝒹𝑒𝓇. 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒹𝒾𝒷𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒. 𝒾 𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹, 𝒹𝒶𝓎𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑒𝑔𝑒, 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒷𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝒹𝓊𝓁𝓉. 𝒾 𝓈𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅𝓁𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝒾 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒷𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽.

𝒾 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓇𝒶𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇. 𝒾𝓉 𝒷𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝓈𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓅𝑒𝒶𝒸𝑒, 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇, 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑜𝓌 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝓅𝓁𝓎 𝒾𝓉 𝓇𝓊𝓃𝓈. 𝒾 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒, 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓁𝓁 𝒷𝑒 𝒶 𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓇, 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓁𝓁, 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓇𝑒𝒸𝑒𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝒶𝒹𝒶𝓂. 𝒾 𝒽𝒶𝒹 𝒶 𝓅𝒾𝑒𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓂𝓎 𝓌𝑒𝒹𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓂𝒶𝒹𝑒 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝒶 𝓋𝑒𝒾𝓁, 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝒾𝓉.

𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁. 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉, 𝓈𝓊𝓃𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑒. 𝒾 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈, 𝓈𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶𝒽

you wept openly as you read it, hands shaking, trying your hardest not to let your tears stain the delicate paper. you thought of all the memories you'd made with her, how close you'd been. you wondered if conrad had ever even told her about the break up, or if he'd spared her the news, or if her infectious optimism had convinced her you'd work everything out. it took you 20 minutes to force it down and collect yourself, taking deep breaths, correcting your makeup in the vanity mirror susannah had picked out for you. "you okay, sweetie?" your mom asked when you finally returned to the crowd, her eyes searching yours. "of course," you lied, forcing a weak smile, "just needed some air,"

by nightfall, all the guests had gone, and your parents were packing the car to fly home. "i'm sorry, honey," your dad sighed, your head against his chest as he told you goodbye, "i've gotta be back for work. you call me if you need anything at all, okay? and let me and your mom know as soon as you land back in new york," "it's okay," you murmured, pulling away from the hug, forcing on a brave face, "i'll call when i get home, i promise. i love you," "i love you too, sweetie," he ruffled your hair lightly, smiling, "see you for christmas," "can't wait," you hummed, watching him carry the last suitcase out.

it was back to you, conrad, and jeremiah. the house felt empty once again, eerily quiet, devoid of the life and whimsy susannah had always provided. your flight left at 7am, but a part of you yearned to stay, like maybe if you didn't leave, it wouldn't be real. you showered, pulling on a cousin's rowing sweatshirt that you were fairly certain used to belong to conrad, stepping into a pair of shorts and wandering the house, aimless and tired. you wound up by the pool, kicking your feet through the water, memories playing like a reel in your mind. "this seat taken?" you looked up, and there was conrad, his dress shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his hair tousled. "help yourself," you attempted a casual smile, gesturing to the spot beside you. he sat, not quite close enough to let his legs dangle like yours, "so you fly out in the morning?" "yeah," you nodded, glancing at the rippling water, "i don't think i'll be back for a while,"

"i'm gonna go back to school," he said after a moment, "i think jere's staying at finch, so there won't be anyone here. my dad said he'd pay people to keep up with the house, though," "good," you hummed, "i might transfer after this year. we'll see how it goes," "i thought you loved new york," he looked at you, brows knit, "your brother said you were happy there," "i am," you said quickly, "i just miss home, i guess. this whole thing has just made me think," "i understand," he hesitated, "did my mom say anything in the letter? about being here?" you yearned to tell him, to show him, but it felt too heavy, too much, "no, nothing like that. it's just been playing on my mind," "i'm sure you'll make the right decision. you always were the smartest out of us," you paused, mind racing, "hey, conrad, did you tell susannah about us? about the break up?"

his face shifted, like he was nervous or uncomfortable, "i tried to, but- i don't know. it was hard, she wasn't doing very well and i didn't want to upset her," "it's okay," you felt an odd sense of relief, "i understand. i just wanted to know," a soothing, thick sort of silence settled over you, quiet except for the waves and the pool water rippling around your ankles. finally, he broke the silence, "it's late. you should get some rest before your flight," "yeah, you're probably right," you stood, taking one last look at the beach, how peaceful it looked in the darkness, before following him inside. the sound of two sets of steps on the stairs reminded you of all the years passed, of four sets as the boys chased you around, or two when you and conrad snuck up together.

he paused by your bedroom door, lingering, his eyes meeting yours, "thank you for coming," he said, voice raspy, "it meant a lot to everyone. to me," "i wouldn't have missed it for anything," you said earnestly, "you're my family, connie. always, no matter what's happened between us," he took a step closer, face conflicted like he was fighting himself, "i'm sorry," it came out thick, almost strangled, "i wish i could've told you," "you did what you had to do," you shook your head, "i don't blame you. you have to stop blaming yourself," another step, another uptick in your heartbeat. "i wish things had been different," he exhaled it like it was a weight off of his shoulders, and you pulled your lip between your teeth, anxious and anticipating, though you weren't sure what.

his eyes flicked to your mouth at the movement, and before you could process it, he was kissing you, tender but deep, hurried like he needed it. you kissed him back, humming against his lips, one hand coming to hold his arm. he leaned you back against the doorframe, your head craning to keep up with him, the kiss deepening, his hand grabbing for your waist. "conrad," you murmured into the kiss, catching your breath. it seemed to snap him back into reality, and he jerked away, chest heaving. "i shouldn't have done that," he said quickly, "i'm so- i'm so sorry," he turned, before you could stop him, slamming his bedroom door. you traced your lips, still burning for him, pausing before closing your own door, closing it on him, on the possibility.

you returned to the city the following day, feeling terribly similar to the first time you'd left. on top of mourning susannah, you had to mourn conrad, something that could've been. you tried your hardest not to think of it for too long the following months, but late at night, when you were alone, you found yourself scrolling through the locked album on your phone, or hesitantly typing his username into the instagram search bar, forced to watch his life in pictures. "are you coming home for the summer?" your mom asked over the phone, a week before the end of the year. "i'm actually thinking about going to the beach house, just for a couple days," you told her, "i'll come home after though, okay?" "that sounds good, sweetie. call me if you need me,"

your flight landed at 8am, the dew still clinging to the grass of the beach house, the tide rolling slowly in and out. you twisted the key in the lock, gently pushing the door open, breathing in the familiar scent, the wheels of your suitcase sliding against the wood floors. you carried your things upstairs, haphazardly unpacking before going to the kitchen, switching on the kettle and leaning against the counter. you were halfway zoned out when the back door opened, and when your eyes snapped up towards the sound, there he was. conrad stood, the top half of his wet suit unzipped, hanging loose around his waist. "oh," he stood, blinking, brows furrowed like he was confused, "i didn't know you were here," "i didn't know you were here," you said, switching off the kettle as it whistled, "sorry- i can go back home. i didn't know anyone was staying here," "no," he shook his head, water droplets dripping off the ends of his hair as he did, "stay. please,"

the two of you fell into step again with a sort of familiar ease. it wasn't dramatic, wasn't all at once, but somehow, you found yourself living alongside him like no time had passed. he studied and surfed during the day, while you laid out at the beach or tidied the house. he tried to stay out of your way, you could tell. part of you ached to tell him he didn't have to avoid you, the other longed to run far away, to go home and pretend it never happened. the sixth night, he knocked on your bedroom door, quiet and hesitant. "yeah?" you called, perched at your vanity, finishing your skincare. "hey, uh, i was gonna make some dinner. do you want something?" "yeah, sure," you smiled faintly at him in the reflection, "i can come help, just give me a second,"

he was standing at the counter when you came downstairs, prepping chicken, humming under his breath. you lingered in the doorway for a moment, just watching him, stricken by the slow, tender familiarity of it all. "want me to make a salad?" you finally asked, clearing your throat, "i picked up some produce last time i went into town," "yeah, that'd be great," he nodded, giving you a sidelong smile, "i'm just gonna grill this up," you nodded, busying yourself with prepping ingredients, trying to avoid watching him as he cooked. even as you settled across from him at the table after everything was done, you had to make a conscious effort not to let your gaze linger. "this is really good," he said, wiping his mouth after a bite, "thank you for helping," "course," you murmured, taking a sip of your tea, "since when do you know how to cook, anyway?"

he cracked a smile, and your chest warmed, "had to learn how to do the basics when mom was sick. i really can only make chicken and some sides," "well it's great, conrad," you smiled in return, "i'm glad we can do this," "this?" you nodded, gesturing between the two of you, "yeah, this. i'm glad we can get along without any drama," it wasn't the whole truth, really, but then again, you hadn't told him the whole truth since the day he walked out your door. "yeah. me too," he nodded, but his smile slipped, "i'm probably going for a swim after this, if you wanted to join me. it's a really nice night out," "yeah, okay," you nodded, "i'll meet you out there in a little bit. i just need to change," you stood to clear your dishes, but he stopped you, his hand on the edge of your plate, "let me take care of this," you hummed a half reply, excusing yourself upstairs, trying to ignore the look in his eyes.

you walked down to the pool half an hour later, a zip up hoodie hanging over your bikini, a seltzer in your hand. conrad was already in the water, the lights hitting him as he moved through it, taking your breath away for a moment. he broke the surface, hair stuck to his forehead, lips parted, "hey," he grinned, waving you over. "you beat me to it," you joked, shrugging off your hoodie, the air chilly on your bare skin. you could feel his eyes on you as you sat on the edge of the pool, bracing yourself before sliding into the water, the cold biting at you. "jesus, it's freezing," you squealed, scrunching your nose, "you said it was nice out, you liar," "don't be such a baby," he teased, wading through the water so he was closer to you, "it's not too cold, though, is it? you're okay?" "i'm fine, just gotta adjust," you shrugged, dipping your head under for a moment. he was staring at you as you came up, eyes dark but sparkling.

"hi," he exhaled, so close that you could reach out and touch him. "hi," you murmured, drinking him in, "feels better now," "yeah?" his voice cracked slightly, "good. that's good," "very," you whispered, eyes flickering to his lips, "and you? you feel good?" "i feel great," he swallowed, tongue darting out to wet his lips, "just perfect," you leaned against the pool wall, water lapping at the surface, "perfect," you repeated, eyes still on his. "you're perfect," he took in a breath, sharp and hoarse. "con-" he didn't give you a chance to finish, leaning forward and kissing you desperately, hands finding your waist beneath the water. you kissed him back, hungry and quick, before your mind could catch up with your body. after a moment, you pushed him away, chest heaving, mind reeling, "no," you said quickly, "no. no, we're not doing this again,"

he looked wounded, for just a beat, "i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done it without asking you," he said quietly, running a hand over his face, "i'm sorry," "you shouldn't have done it at all, conrad. you can't keep doing this to me," your voice was rising, face hot, "i forgave you for leaving, i really did. and i forgave you for kissing me after the funeral, but this- this isn't fair, and you know that. i can't keep letting you take advantage of me, because you know i'll do anything for you. and i can't believe after everything, after the time we spent together, that you'd do this," "i'm so sorry," his voice croaked, "you have to know, i thought you knew," "knew what?" you felt your eyes sting, "how could i know anything? i used to- god, conrad, i used to know everything when it came to you. what happened?"

"i thought you knew that i still loved you!" his voice shook, "i never stopped, i- god, i didn't know what to do, okay? my mom was dying and i couldn't tell you and i was so fucking scared. you have to know i never wanted to hurt you, honey. you have to understand that i love you, that i never stopped, not for a second. i just couldn't stand to drag you down with me," you pushed yourself up out of the pool, shaking as you yanked your hoodie back on over your soaked swimsuit, the nickname that had slipped from his lips replaying in your mind. "no, no, hey, just wait-" he pushed himself out after you, dripping onto the concrete as he followed you, reaching for your wrist, "don't do this, don't walk away from me. not now,"

"what am i supposed to say to that?" you whirled to face him, "i hurt for you, conrad. i spent months crying over you, crying for you, and i would've done anything to hear you saying this. i just can't let you break my heart again," "i know i hurt you, and i know i can't just fix it, but god, if we loved again, i swear i'd love you right," he took a step closer, tentative and slow, "there will never be anyone else for me. i know that now just as clearly as i knew it when we were teenagers. i don't care if it's reckless or dramatic or stupid, i love you, and i'll love you for the rest of my life," "conrad-" he kept talking, as if you'd never interrupted, "and i just need you to understand, i need you to see that i mean it," "conrad," "and if i have to spend every day reminding you-" "conrad!" "what?" he blinked, as if he had never heard you, brows knit.

"i believe you," you murmured, "i love you, i trust you. you're okay," "what?" he let out a breath, "you love me?" "of course i love you," you reached for him this time, pulling him closer by his wrist, "i've loved you as long as i can remember, connie. i know we have a lot to figure out, but i'm here, i'm forgiving you. i miss you. i miss us," "oh, thank god," he laughed breathlessly, stepping into your orbit, nose brushing yours as he leaned in, "say it again," "i love you, conrad beck fisher," you whispered, and you could hear the sharpness of his breath, the racing of his heart, "i'll always love you," he made a low, desperate, raw sort of sound before crashing his lips to yours, intense but soft, grabbing for you anywhere he could reach.

he walked you back into the living room, hand resting on your low back, keeping you pressed against him. his tongue slipped against yours, his hands fumbling, squeezing your hips as he pressed you against a wall, knee slotted between your thighs. he groaned, low in his throat, as you ground against him, bikini bottoms still freezing. "bedroom," he muttered between messy kisses. "yours?" you pulled away, pressing sloppy kisses to his jaw, "or mine?" he didn't reply, just leaned down to grab your thighs, pulling your legs around his waist, picking you up with a huff. he carried you up the stairs, not even breaking a sweat, cheeks only reddened from your lips on his neck. you reached down as he rounded the landing, sliding your hand over the bulge in his swim trunks. "fuck," he groaned, not even bothering to pick a room, just settling you onto the bathroom counter as he stumbled into the room, "need you, honey,"

he slipped the zip up from your shoulders, hands fumbling with the string of your bikini, kissing you languidly as he pulled it, your top falling. he trailed kisses down your jaw and the column of your throat, sucking lightly at the sensitive skin of your neck. "you're so beautiful," he murmured, eyes raking over your heaving bare chest, "missed you so much," he leaned down, palming your chest, slowly sucking your nipple between his lips, laving his tongue against the bud. "oh," you sucked in a surprised breath, back immediately arching into him, hands gripping the edge of the vanity. his fingers looped through your bottoms, pulling them down in one fluid motion, letting them fall to the floor, the air cool against your core. "can i taste you, baby? wanna make you feel good," he slid a hand between your thighs, thumb brushing your clit lightly. "yes, please," you nodded quickly, dazed as he dropped to his knees in front of the sink, spreading your legs further.

he buried his head between your thighs, not wasting any time with teasing touches before lapping at your core, tongue tracing your clit, eliciting a sharp gasp from your swollen lips. he hummed against you, the sound vibrating, setting your nerve endings on edge. you threaded your hand in his hair as he darted his tongue inside of you, nose nudging your clit lightly. "oh, conrad," you mewled, tugging at the strands of hair gently, back arched, "so good," he sucked your clit just hard enough to have you gasping and writhing on the counters edge, your thighs clenching, "close," you managed, pulling tighter on his hair, "jesus. that's so good," he was only encouraged by your praise, the hand resting on your thigh squeezing slightly, anchoring you. you gasped his name as you came, legs trembling, dizzy with pleasure.

he swiped his thumb along his lip as he stood, grinning down at you, "come shower with me, honey," you nodded, still hazy, following him as he turned on the water, stepping out of his trunks. he stepped under the shower stream, taking your hand, helping you over the ledge. "you're so pretty," he murmured, the water misting around you, his thumb tracing your jawline. you fawned under his gaze, leaning into his touch, humming contently. he kissed you, slow and gentle, tediously teasing, pressing you against the cool shower wall. he stepped between your legs, humming as you opened up for him, the kiss deepening.

you reached between the two of you, taking him in your palm, running your thumb along the tip. “fuck,” he hissed, hips already jerking, “you don’t have to do that-“ “hush,” you teased, ghosting your lips over his pulse point, “want you to fuck me, con. missed you so much,” “yeah?” he rasped, “want you so bad, honey, you have no idea,” “have me, then,” you whispered, stroking him slowly. he shuddered, gently pulling one of your legs up, fingers running along your calf as he did. you guided him to your core, taking a shaky breath as you slid him against you, soaked and hot. “oh, baby,” he exhaled, bucking into your hand before gently guiding it away, “lemme take care of you, don’t worry,” he tapped his tip against your clit, watching as you clenched up, lips parted. “i love you,” he murmured, one hand still holding your leg as he pushed inside of you slowly, groaning as you stretched around him. “oh,” your eyes fell closed, your head resting on the wall behind you, “i love you,” you relished in the familiar but missed stretch, drinking him in, your hands on his shoulders.

“oh, fuck,” he leaned forward, his forehead on your shoulder, bottoming out inside you, “that’s- god, you’re perfect,” he stilled for a moment, letting you adjust, letting himself just feel you, before thrusting back in and out, deep and slow. you pulled at his wet hair, scrambling to kiss him, swallowing each others moans as his mouth met yours messily. it was all tongue and teeth, passionate but urgent, his thrusts quickening. he snaked his hand around to find your clit, thumb circling it as he fucked into you, eliciting more muffled moans. “conrad,” you gasped, pulling away to catch your breath, voice hoarse. “i got you, honey,” he panted, “not gonna last, missed you too much,” “s okay,” you dug your nails into his shoulder slightly as he repositioned you, hitting even deeper, “oh, god. right there, conrad, oh-“ you babbled, eyes rolled back, back arched. “yeah, come on sweetheart,” he let out a choked groan, “let me feel you,” his thumb swiped over your clit again, and you came with a gasp, his name falling from your lips. “good girl,” he buried his face in your neck as he came, hips stuttering, “oh, god, i love you,” “mm, love you,” you hummed, running your fingers through his hair as he caught his breath, chest heaving.

he helped you stand properly again, gently rubbing your thigh, “didn’t hurt you, did i?” “course not,” you shook your head, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, “that was perfect,” he smiled, hazy and content, “here, i’ll wash your hair like old times,” you remembered the way he used to scrub at your scalp, tenderly and caring, when you’d sneak showers together at the summer house. he kept his promise, washing it carefully and tediously, conditioning the ends like he’d done it a million times. after, he laughed as you stood on your tiptoes, attempting to wash his in return. he squatted down slightly, letting you reach, laughing under his breath. when you got out, he wrapped you in a towel, kissing you quickly as he dried himself off.

“i wish we could stay in the beach house forever,” you said as the two of you laid in his bed, your head on his chest. “me too,” he murmured, running his fingers along your spine. “i’m coming back here after i graduate, i think. i wanna stay in moms house, keep up with it. i’m gonna practice at the clinic in town,” you sat up, brows knit, looking down at him, “you’ve already planned it all out?” “it’s a loose plan,” he said, shrugging, “it’s the goal, though. why?” “just surprised,” you leaned back into him, relaxing, picturing your future, “i have 2 years left. i’ve been thinking about transferring, but i don’t know,” “i have one semester left, then i’ll be done,” you’d forgotten how much time had passed since he left, and the reminder startled you, “i’ve heard new york is nice in the fall,” “oh, it’s beautiful,” you nodded. “maybe i’ll come visit my girl after i graduate? we can fly back together?”

you stilled, smiling, “really? you’d come to the city?” “of course i would,” he laughed softly, “maybe i could stay there, get a little experience under my belt before i come back here, hm? we can get an apartment for the school year?” “are you serious?” you tilted your head up to meet his eyes, “we’re really doing this?” “i wasted too much time away from you, honey. i wanna make up for it,” he said softly, “if it’s too much too fast, that’s fine, i can come here after graduation-“ “no,” you cut him off, nearly laughing from happiness, “no, not at all. new york with you sounds perfect, con,” “good,” he grinned, kissing your forehead, “i love you,” “and i love you,” you hummed, nestling into his arm, “i can’t wait for forever,”

[periprose]

Rich Kid Problems

Conrad Fisher seems to be the luckiest rich kid on the planet. You, a girl having grown up in the poorest suburb in Cousins, hate him on principle, because he seems arrogant- you think he dislikes lower class people like yourself. You fall out of touch with him, staying biased against him, until you're reconnected because of Jeremiah and Belly's wedding. You realize his life was never what you thought it was.

Genre: childhood acquaintances to enemies/strangers to friends to lovers, SLOW burn, mostly set in S3, AU in which Conrad never tells Belly he still loves her (bc he does not), mutual pining, yearning, lots of therapeutic talk, some angst, fluff, kind of a fix it fic bc connie deserves better

No use of y/n - you have a given last name in this story (if you don't like it, don't read it)

Word count: 13k

Conrad Fisher doesn’t know how good he’s got it.

This is your first thought when you see that on his super sweet awesome 16th birthday, Susannah and Adam Fisher had bought their son the newest, next-year edition shiny red Jeep.

With custom speakers, in fact. Which are loudly blaring Birthday, by Katy Perry, as Jeremiah Fisher shakes his ass out the window, laughing diabolically, and Conrad swerves around the roundabout, grinning at his brother, and his parents, who adoringly watch from the line of the hot cocoa cart up ahead. 

Rich people pretend to be all practical. I mean, who needs a fancy new car? He could’ve easily made do with a second-hand one. You swallow down your annoyance. 

You’re reading on a bench by yourself, right in front of the local community centre. It’s peaceful– it’s a cool, November day, and although you know Cousins is adored during the summer, you’ve always had a secret love for autumn, too. The trees’ leaves are bright, crisp red, the water has cooled to an un-swimmable degree of chilliness, and the air feels solemn and holy in a way you can’t quite describe– almost like the season is slowing down, allowing for rest, through winter and then finally opening back up during spring.

You adore it. You think of it as a time that you get to relax and just be yourself, not like during the summer, when there are constant beach parties with the coolest, richest teens around. Where debutante balls and trust funds make a bigger appearance than during any other time of the year. Where tourists make it clear that they have enough funds to come here just for the hell of it– unlike you, who’s lived here her entire life, and can’t afford to leave.

It’s not anyone’s fault. You live in the poorest neighbourhood in Cousins– right at the intersection of Cliff Commons and Main Street– and it’s purely because your family inherited your home. It’s the wealthiest asset in your lives, and your family can just make by here, comfortably enough to make some savings. Selling and uprooting your lives to be somewhere else is something you’ve considered, too– but your mom admits it’s a much bigger pain in the ass to do so. Careers and bills don’t quite line up anywhere else.

So you get treated like a poor person despite living here year-round.

None of that is the Fishers’ fault, though, and it’s Conrad’s birthday, too. And you don’t want to be an asshole– it’s just that Conrad and his brother seem to have it all in this world. 

You sigh and then flip a page. You settle into your jacket, hoping that they leave soon.

Jeremiah is sitting back down in his seat, and you think they’re about to drive away, when they suddenly park right in front of your bench.

You blink. “...?”

“Hey. What are you reading?” Jeremiah asks through the open window, as if he’s genuinely curious.

You focus on his question.

It’s Jane Eyre– one of your favourite books. The plot is terribly relevant to you. Without the romance, you feel like Jane. Poor, plain, not belonging to the society she’s stuck in.

Before you can answer, Conrad elbows him. “Jere, leave her alone– she’s clearly focused.”

He always seems to finish a sentence for you– effectively blocking you out.

“Is focused code for staring at us the whole time you were driving?” Jeremiah shoots back at him, with an easy smile. He looks back at you.

You don’t hate Jeremiah, not at all, really. He’s more like an annoying kid– despite being the same age as you, he never seems to mean any harm towards you. 

Not until right now, where he’s basically calling you out.

Conrad can’t quite make eye-contact with you, so you know he was wondering about this, too. Conrad is the one that you never got along with, never during young play dates during the summer. He’s the one who always acted awkward around you, as if you don’t belong here– and you’ve never forgotten it.

You smile sweetly at Jeremiah, and then glare at Conrad, thinly veiled through your smile. “I was just wondering why you guys have such a sweet ride.”

“Wanna take it for a spin?” Jeremiah starts, before Conrad coughs uncomfortably. 

“No, that’s okay.” You look pointedly at Conrad. “Happy birthday, Fisher.”

You enjoy the look of stunned silence on his face, and walk away.

/

It was rare that you’d see them at any point during the year that wasn’t summer, but Jeremiah and Conrad loved any excuse to come to Cousins– Christmas was often that time, but special birthdays were important, too.

The year Conrad turned ten, there was a massive party down at the square– Susannah and Adam set up a little weekend getaway, just for him, and invited almost everyone to the local bakery for carrot cake and milkshakes. You do remember wishing him a happy birthday, and hugging him excitedly, as nine year olds do– and Susannah gently prying you off, as Conrad couldn’t bare to hug you and ruin his cool guy reputation. Of course.

And then, when Jeremiah and you both turned ten the next year– double digits!– you in May, Jeremiah in late September, you got a new bicycle, and Jeremiah got a brand new PS4. During his birthday party, when all the local kids were invited to their beach house, you remember playing a random fps game that you were terrible at– and you were incredibly jealous that they could have games that were so polished with high definition graphics, while you were still playing your parents’ old Nintendo 64.

That was when you met Belly Conklin.

“Whoa, hey! I don’t know you.” An eager nine-year old with thick, black hair down her back, and funny glasses, is staring you down as you pass the controller to a red-headed kid.

“I’m–”

“Mann.” Conrad finishes for you, all cool and nonchalant because he’s eleven years old now. “She’s from around here, Belly.”

“Well, that’s just my last name…” You feel desperately uncool that this Belly girl seems to know Conrad and Jeremiah even better than you do– and you’re here year round.

Typical of the boys to never remember your first name. When you were all really young, basically seven and under, you made jokes about being Fisher-Mann together– and you’d rush into the sea, hoping to find a fish to prove your skills.

It’s a silly memory that should make you fond of them, but instead, you resent how close they pretend to be to you.

“Belly is a nickname. My full name is Isabel Susannah Conklin.” She proudly announces, and you feel your insides shrivel, knowing that whoever this girl is, she must be really important to the family if she’s named after Susannah. “I usually come here every summer, but my mom let us come to Jere’s birthday this time!”

She clasps your hands, excited, and you do your best to smile, but your ten-year old heart is too young to understand that you’re feeling left out. That life isn’t always fair.

“Is that baby Belly?” Your mom, usually a safe place for you to run over to, comes around, and pokes Belly’s face, and she grins at her, and now you’re really grouchy and despondent. Why does your mom know her? Even worse, why does she like her?

“Mom…” You pull her sleeve, and your mom looks at you with a bit of trepidation. “Who–”

“Belly is a friend of the Fishers, honey.” Your mom explains as if you should know this. “She was there when we would have beach trips together, remember?”

You don’t– not really– but this information reminds you that summer used to be a time for everyone to hang out, bonfires and night swims and movies at the drive in, until the Fishers (and you guess the Conklins) would do their own separate stuff. 

Rich person stuff? Maybe. Or maybe it was just without the Mann family. The last time you remember hanging out with them properly during the summer, with all the other local kids… you must’ve been eight.

You want to throw a tantrum, that you’re so sidelined that some other girl– as if you were even important enough to have that label of the Fisher boys’ girl best friend and then be replaced– has always had their attention and now does so, undivided.

You’re too young to realize that they don’t hate you– a lack of acknowledgment isn’t hate– but old enough to know you can’t beg people to be friends with you.

No, especially not when you’re just regular-degular middle class, as your mom loves to say. She herself has rejected invites to fancy balls and luxe barbecues in villas around here, because that’s just not a place you can fit into, and people are not always inclusive of you guys– and if that fails a relationship, as hard as it might be, your mom has always told you that friends need to be there for you, too. 

The Fishers aren’t really there for you. A hard truth for a ten year old to suddenly reckon with– it’s not that you didn’t know you weren’t best friends, but you thought you were closer than just mere neighbours– and you sigh and get more punch.

“Being ten sucks.” You mutter into your glass, hoping no one hears you.

“Eleven is much worse. Trust me.” Conrad remarks drily from his corner in the kitchen, where he’s sipping on Gatorade, with it’s unneeded electrolytes. 

Just when you were feeling unnoticed, Conrad always seems to spring up at the worst moment, making you feel seen and then unseen all over again as he hovers, unsure of what to make of you, and then looking away again.

You know he doesn’t care now, but it still stings.

/

After that, years of growing up and being confident in your own place in the world just makes you ambivalent about the Fishers. You’ve always been cordial to each other– but you know the way they live their lives is something you’ll never relate to. And so you’ve come to accept that you don’t like them, and you don’t have to pretend to, as much as rich people love to canoodle and act like nothing is ever wrong.

At the very least, you refuse to suck up to them just because they’re well off. Classism and elitism are terms you love to throw around, much to your parent’s chagrin.

“It almost makes me happy, Deena, that they were such dicks still.” You’re gossiping on the phone to your best friend, peppy, supersmart, always willing to give good advice.

You’re lying on the old pull-out couch in your basement. Many games of poker have been played down here with your friends and family, but right now, it’s just a great place to gossip where your mom won’t reprimand you for it.

“Were they? They sounded perfectly neutral to me.” She replies back, smacking her gum, and you hear writing sounds in the background– Deena must be preparing for exams already. “I mean, how were Jeremiah and Conrad Fisher supposed to know that you hate them for being able to afford a new car?”

“One: I don’t hate them.” You state, and Deena bursts out in laughter. “No, really! Two: Conrad Fisher got it as a gift. God, it’s like people like that don’t even know how good they’ve got it, Deena, and I wish they just had some self awareness.”

“You don’t need to tell me that. I’m still saving for my car next year.” Deena sighs wistfully. “That 2012 Honda Fit is going to be mine.”

“Okay, true. Maybe I should just calm down.” You exhale.

Deena moves on to talking about the semi-formal, and you listen, hoping that you never have to run into Conrad again.

/

Of course, them owning a summer house and all, you do end up seeing him. Every summer, the Fishers and Conklins make their drive up to Cousins Beach, and you know they’re here because every time, without fail, you see Conrad, again and again. 

It doesn’t even have to be for a particular reason– he’s just around, like at your local convenience store, down by the beach kicking rocks, or maybe just taking a stroll down the street.

It makes you fume for some reason. The way he looks up, and then looks away– as if you’re not worth a second glance. This is your home, isn’t it? Cousins Beach was more yours than his, considering you would always be here, and probably die here, too.

So you hold your ground. You refuse to look away from him, daring him to avoid you when you say “Hey.” 

He’s always mildly surprised, and it gives you a tiny bit of glee to have knocked Conrad Fisher off guard. “Hey.”

And then you’re on your way again, off back to your own neighbourhood and your own life.

/ 

You don’t actually actively think about Conrad for the most part, other than those brief glimpses during summer, for the other part of your teenage years. Dislike eventually melted away into indifference, because you never really saw the Fishers again. 

Other than when Susannah died, and your mom was so desolate, because Susannah wasn’t really like the other rich people around Cousins, she was always a kind person, and you both made a nice care package to send over to their house. 

Then all you could think about was how he must have struggled. Him and Jeremiah, and maybe that girl, Belly, if she was still friends with them. It was horrible to lose a mom– you don’t know what you’d do without yours, because she was all you had in the world.

You know at some point there were rumors of the Fishers selling the house, which made sense to you– maybe a bitter reminder of the life they once had– but that doesn’t seemed to have happened, as much as you and your mom joked about buying it.

“As if we could afford that view, Mom!” You had laughed as she insisted that being a twenty minute walk away from such a view wasn’t too shabby, too. That your family has done well for itself.

She wasn’t wrong. You were very proud of your mother– she’d climbed up the corporate building blocks and been promoted to a senior manager role at her job, making your situation not nearly as desolate as it once was. Yes, you could finally say that you’re middle class, rather than just lower-middle as you once were.

And then, a few years later, after you finished high school and college, you’ve started working as a paralegal for one of the smaller firms up in Boston– about an hour drive from your house, so you choose to make the commute rather than waste money on rent, for now. 

Life is good.

/

At least, life was good, until you receive a call from Belly Conklin, on the first day of August, 2027.

You’re surprised. You never really talked to the girl, so you’ve got no idea why she’s calling.

You’re staring at the caller ID, currently doing laundry at your house, basket against your hip, until you decide to answer.

“Hello?” You hope you don’t sound too confused. Belly always seemed to be the sweetest out of the kids at the Fisher Beach House– she was the only one who really bothered to say hello first, a lot of the time.

“Hi!” Belly mentions your name. “It is you, right? Do you still go by Mann?”

“Hi, Belly.” Your stomach twists in a way that feels nostalgic– Mann was something that only the Fishers really called you, way back when. “Sure I do. Do you still go by Belly?”

“Never really stopped!” She laughs, and you feel a bit more at ease. “I’m calling because it’s been a while, and I wanted to ask if you and your mom were still coming to our wedding?”

Your brain stops for a moment. What on earth is she talking about?

For some reason, you just assume she’s talking about Conrad and herself. They seem to fit– you think you’ve noticed something through the meagre glances you stole at them glancing at each other through out the years. And why else would Belly invite you to a wedding if not through the relation of the Fishers?

“Mann? Hello?” She’s still waiting for your answer. 

“Right, gimme just one second…” You scratch your head in the meantime, setting down your laundry basket and sitting in front of the machine. “Do you mind if I just–”

“Ask your mom?” Belly responds in turn. “Yeah, of course, go for it. I’m sure it’s a bit of a surprise– Adam just went ahead and invited a ton of people, I think he was using his assistant, who was using Susannah’s contact list– so there’s a lot of people who had no idea about the wedding who, well, they know now! That’s not to say we don’t want you here– it’s just awkward, maybe…?”

You grimace to yourself. That doesn’t sound ideal, it sounds like Conrad and Belly asked his father to deal with the invites because they couldn’t care less who came or didn’t. Sounds like a big mistake, as if you’re Cinderella going to a ball by request of the King and Queen for everyone to come.

You don’t have a fairy godmother to dress you up for such an affair either.

But on the other hand– you’d love a free dinner, and drinks. Whatever crazy rich people shenanigans they get up to will be gossip for you and your mom to yap about for ages. Plus, with years of missing out on the events for the socialites of Cousins, you don’t mind showing up.

Maybe a part of you wants them to see that you’re not doing so bad yourself.

“Belly, it’s all good. I don’t mind coming to your wedding, and I’m sure Mom doesn’t either.” You answer, and you can hear Belly smile and squeal through the phone.

“Okay! Awesome. Sorry, I know how it must feel– I honestly always feel out of place at all these fancy events and things, too– and you were probably like ‘agh, why do they want us to come to this?’ But it means so much that you’re coming! Susannah would’ve wanted you guys there.” Belly exclaims, and you feel a little pang of guilt, now.

Belly grew up comparably to you, and here you are thinking that she’s one of them, one of those ghastly evil Fisher boys. Men, now, you suppose. She was probably a fish out of water her whole life– and now she’s marrying into that kind of life. It warms you to her considerably.

And you just know she never meant any harm by this whole invite situation– in fact, look at her, trying to make it alright, insisting that Susannah would’ve wanted you there– and you know she’s right. Susannah was always nice to you and your mom no matter how many times your mom apologetically couldn’t come to a party she was throwing.

“Thanks, Belly. I really appreciate that.” You say sincerely, and she bids you goodbye.

“Mom?” You call out, and your mom answers, half-asleep on the couch in your living room.

“...Yeah?”

You sigh, and walk out into the living room, and shake her lightly, waking her.

“Ugh, kid.” She yawns. “Yeah?”

“Did we get an invite to a wedding recently?” You cross your arms, waiting for an answer. You need to know when it is– you can’t believed you RSVP’d just like that.

“Oh, yeah. There, it’s on the counter–” Your mom points to the kitchen island counter behind the couch. 

You rifle through some bills and find, sure enough, a cream coloured envelope. Inside is a very fancy invitation with embossments of flowers and seashells, a jellyfish illustration, and serif writing proclaiming:

We cordially invite you to celebrate the wedding of: Ms. Isabel Susannah Conklin & Mr. Jeremiah Adam Fisher

That’s odd.

You could’ve sworn that Belly and Conrad were going to be it, but it’s not like you know them like that. Who knows what could’ve transpired over the last few years?

The date listed is August 6th, 2027. 

You breathe a sigh of relief– That’s on a Friday, and you don’t work Fridays anyways. And your mom has more than enough days off.

With the wedding in the back of your mind, you get back to doing your laundry.

/

Conrad hates himself for choosing to be here.

He thought it would be fine– helping Belly with wedding stuff, being there for Jere, whatever he could do, he would do.

But he’s exhausted.

Ever since Belly and Jeremiah had announced their wedding together– so many people had been against it, but Conrad knew he had to be there for them if no one else was, and it was killing him inside.

He loves– loved her. He doesn’t want to give a name to that feeling, choosing to place it in the past, but he knows it’s going to be impossible to get over until after this whole thing is done.

Not even Cousins was really helping him unwind at all. He always left the beach house every morning– not wanting to intrude on domestic bliss after Belly and Jeremiah decided to stay there. 

The beach was tiring, too. Swimming made him want to drown. Somehow he just feels lost no matter where he looked.

And it was all thanks to Belly. She was always going to be the one that got away, and unfortunately, for Conrad, having grown up with her, there was a piece of Belly everywhere he looked. Her laugh was what he missed the most.

Of course Jeremiah got to hear it every single day, now. They can’t stop canoodling, even now, sitting at the counter, as Conrad checks out what’s in the fridge.

Obviously he can’t trust these two kids to get groceries, so he tells them he’d be out.

They barely notice as Jeremiah starts kissing Belly’s neck, and Conrad resists the urge to gag.

/

The Cousins Supermarket is kind of busy this time around. Not surprisingly, considering it’s a Sunday and all.

Conrad says hello to Enid, the lovely older woman who works the in-store flower boutique– and she tells him they’re having a deal on bouquets, 12.99 for 2, which he says he’ll keep in mind.

His heart sinks again, remembering that he’s not marrying Belly, and Belly already couldn’t buy flowers at that much more expensive boutique– so he suggested Susannah’s hydrangeas, and now he’s wishing again he was the one with Belly, dumb and young and in love, needing to save money because they barely have any to begin with, with the wedding swallowing costs, budgeting so their futures are set.

He sighs. Time will make these feelings pass, he knows.

He knows Belly loves sugar, but it can’t just be pastries and soda in the pantry, so he gets to finding some vegetables, protein, carbs, really all the food groups that would be good to keep the happy couple healthy.

Conrad is staring down different meats when there’s a voice that interrupts his train of thought.

“Hey, sorry.” It’s you, and you’re reaching for the marked down rib-eyes that he’s standing in front of. “Fisher.”

“Mann.” He gives you a self-conscious nod, as if you’re bros, and feels a teeny bit embarrassed about it. “Sorry. Let me move out of the way.”

You’re quick to grab the package, and you open your mouth like you’re about to say something.

Conrad isn’t sure when you’ve grown up, but you have. Your hair is styled in a way that reads grown-woman rather than awkward teen, your handbag is leather rather than a polyester belt-bag, and you’ve got heeled sandals on, that add half an inch to your height. There’s a translucent pinky gloss on your lips, too, and he remembers– you’re twenty-two years old now.

You look confident, but not mean. And then he wonders why he would think you’re mean, except… you always used to glare at him.

He hardly remembers the last time he’s seen you– but he’s sure of it. You used to have a real stink eye for him. 

You shut your mouth, not knowing what to say.

“Here for the wedding?” Conrad fills in the blanks, and then raises his eyebrows at his own stupidity. “Uh, sorry– you–”

“Live here.” You smirk at him, glad Conrad is the same as ever, and he shakes his head.

“Sorry. Really, that’s my bad, I just forgot.” He sees your eyes squint, and continues to perhaps bury himself deeper into the hole he’s started to dig. “I mean, you’re not forgettable, Mann– I’m just surrounded by wedding shit all the time, so it was the first thing out of my mouth. I didn’t mean to make you feel–”

“Left out?” You’re enjoying this a little too much, as Conrad’s mouth is left agape, and he struggles with what to say next. You don’t know when Conrad became such a doormat, considering what an aloof kid he used to be, but it makes you happy– you feel, for once, that Conrad is the one groveling for your attention.

And then you blink at that thought. Are you seriously that insecure? That petty, all these years, that you wanted him to see that you don’t have to be the one groveling just because of your financial background?

No, you’re gonna extend an olive branch. You refuse to let Conrad have a thing above you, that he can be nicer than you now. And if that’s petty, too, well you’re not gonna look that deeply into it.

Fair’s fair.

“Don’t worry, Fisher, I’m fucking with you.” You laugh, looking down, and it actually sets Conrad off, as he blinks, traces his arm, and smiles sheepishly, if not a little confused. 

“You were always really intense.” He mentions, and your head snaps back up, wondering when he could’ve noticed such a thing. 

It’s why you went into law. You argue with an intensity that almost no one wants to be on the other side of– almost to your detriment at times, where you have to learn to lay off. 

This would be a good time to lay off, you think. He doesn’t seem exactly the same as he once was, and he’s staring at you like he needs a lifeline– he’s struggling with something.

You can tell he’d almost welcome an argument for all the wrong reasons. To feel worse about himself in the end. His blue eyes have a hollowness to them now. 

“To answer your question, yes, I am coming to the wedding.” You explain, stepping forward a bit, to be friendly, while Conrad stares at you intently. “I didn’t even know we were invited, honestly. Me and my mom are pretty used to being left out of things.”

“I’m–”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault.” You shake your head, and Conrad sighs in relief.

You frown at how serious he is.

“I feel like I’ve been apologizing for everything the last few years.” Conrad admits to you, and you raise your eyebrows.

“Conrad Fisher? He’s been wrong about things?” You joke, and he smiles a real smile.

“I’ve been dead wrong about a lot.” There’s a solemnness to the way he says that, and you don’t know why that is, but you don’t want to pry.

“Anyways, it’s no secret that me and my mom have a different income to the rest of you guys. It’s no one’s fault.” You shrug, but Conrad won’t shake this look of intense guilt. “It’s easier to avoid going to expensive parties so you can pay bills, you know? But Belly told me we were in Susannah’s contact list, and she would’ve wanted us there.”

“You’re right. She would have.” Conrad grins. “Mom was always open to anyone who would have her.”

“Yeah.” You think about Susannah and think about how she never talked to you any differently, even with the fact that you and your mom hardly ever made it to the beach house for margaritas and what-not. “She was really sweet. I know she probably wished more than anything to be there for Jeremiah and Belly.”

“Yeah, she probably did.” Conrad’s face changes a bit, you notice, almost in displeasure, before he suddenly changes the subject. “I… gotta go buy these groceries, but I’ll catch you around? A lot of the wedding party is arriving today, but I’m sure they don’t need me bugging them.” It floors you to see Conrad, of all the people you’ve ever known, asking you to potentially hang. In fact, he’s quite literally hanging on to see your answer– puppy dog eyes and all.

“I’ll see what I can do. Can’t make any promises, I have a riveting episode of Dawson’s Creek waiting for me at home.” You tentatively remark, wondering who you think you are, making plans with a guy that was never really your friend. 

“Awesome.” Conrad laughs, and he then asks for your number, staring at the floor, and then your face, the entire time you’re typing it into his phone.

He sends a text– “Hey, it’s Conrad Fisher :)” and you feel more than just tolerance. Maybe you’re not made out of ice.

Maybe you had him pegged all wrong.

/

The Dawson’s Creek episode is one you’ve seen a million times growing up. It’s the wedding finale episode, and it’s a little on the nose for what’s happening right now, so you can’t put Conrad out of your mind.

You have a million unanswered questions.

Why does he seem so depressed? What happened to that kid, the one who was too smart and cool for everyone?

Or was it just growing up, where you realize you don’t know everything, and the real weight of the world is on you?

No. It’s something deeper, you can tell. That boy is troubled by something, and even though you don’t owe him anything, you care enough to alleviate his spirits, at least a little.

It replays in your mind that Conrad seemed especially upset over mention of Jeremiah and Belly. 

You pause the episode, and instead look at his text message. 

A call might be too desperate, you think.

You: Still up for hanging?

Conrad: Yeah, sure.

Conrad: Actually, could you do me a favour?

You: Are we on favour levels of friendship now?

Conrad: If it’s not a big deal sure. Ask me for anything later I just need to

He hit send on that without saying the rest of what it was.

Conrad: I need to get out of here. Can you pick me up or is that too crazy?

Conrad: I’m really sorry about this

Conrad: I just 

You furrow your brows. Conrad sure knows how to make the night eventful, you guess. It hasn’t even been 24 hours and now you’re his buddy he calls to pick you up?

You: What about jeremiah?

Conrad: i’m at his bach party and it’s going really poorly. I gotta leave

You: Okay fine. but you owe me!!

Conrad reacts with a thumbs up to that last message, and sends you the address.

It’s a bar. In Downtown Cousins. Fuck, you really hope he isn’t drunk.

The last thing you want to do is be near him when he’s in such a vulnerable state, especially because you hardly know the guy at this point and he’s already been so up and down today. Who knows how clingy he’ll be right now? Until he suddenly turns avoidant, as he always used to be.

But maybe he’s really got no one else to reach out to.

You sigh, knowing you’re going to pick him up, but you’re going to put a heavy boundary in place later on.

/

Conrad wants to yell at Jeremiah so, so badly. But the guy is so drunk, he can’t function, and nothing Conrad could say right now would stick in his mind.

He wants to fucking throttle him.

Bad enough that he has Belly, but to cheat on her? To treat her like she’s nothing more than a disposable tissue for a wank, easily replaceable by the next one?

It makes him genuinely shocked. He’s in such disbelief, he feels like he never knew Jere or Belly.

How could she be so okay with this? To go ahead, and marry him anyways? Conrad doesn’t think she knows. There’s no way the Isabel Conklin he knew would’ve done this.

He’s swaying back and forth, in the front of the bar. He hardly knows you, he knows that– he just doesn’t know who to trust within this circle of apparent liars.

Conrad wants out.

And when he sees a chocolate brown Suzuki Swift pull up to the curb, with you waving out the driver’s window, he feels an enormous sense of relief.

You’re very apprehensive. He’s standing on the sidewalk, in a polo and khakis, and he doesn’t seem drunk– just very pale and sweaty, and his eyes are wide and shell shocked. You have even more questions.

Conrad opens the door to the passenger seat. And sits down, shutting the door, putting on his seatbelt, all wordlessly, but with the frantic nature of someone who wants to leave.

You decide not to pressure him. Just sitting there, until he asks you to drive.

“Where to?” You think about making a silly remark about being his uber driver. 

“Just around. Please.” Conrad coughs, and you shrug, thinking that you hardly take joyrides anyways.

When you’ve driven at least a mile, Conrad finally speaks up. He’d been staring out the window for ages– and every once in a while, he’d turn to you, staring at you, which you could feel but you chose to focus on the road, obviously– and you wanted him to say something the entire time.

You don’t do great with pregnant silences like that. The paralegal side of you was waiting to interrogate him on what was up, but your weird ambiguous acquaintanceship with him made it impossible to do so.

You still have a modicum of respect for him.

“Sorry, by the way.” Conrad starts, and now, all the emotions he was keeping at bay suddenly come through by way of his sudden verbosity. “I know you probably have better things to do and you don't know me like that. I just, I didn’t really know who else I could ask to just help out. I know that sounds fucked, but listen– I just needed someone new, someone removed from the whole thing, even though it’s kind of my fault. I just can’t be alone in good conscience right now.”

You’re silent for a moment as Conrad searches your face for a response. It’s not that you’re trying to scare him by lack of an answer– although unintentionally, he does become fearful that you’re not going to understand, and he’s really just taking a leap here– it’s just that you’re truly at a loss at how to comfort him when you never thought of Conrad being capable of saying that much all in one go.

He’s someone who you still think of as too cool. Not vulnerable, not like this.

Conrad really does need a friend, you realize.

“Can’t be alone in good conscience? Do I need call a suicide helpline, Fisher?” You dryly comment, secretly hoping your shitty banter will lighten his spirits a little.

He actually grins, and then laughs really hard. It almost sounds like he’s crying– it’s maybe a bit too far for how unfunny your joke was– but you understand, he needs to let go of some weight on his chest.

“Nothing that serious, Mann.” Conrad leans back in the seat, breathing really hard. “I just needed a friend. If you don’t mind me being so forward.”

For some inane, childish reason, you feel your face turn warm, but you know the guy didn’t mean anything actually forward.

“No, we’re on favours-level now.” You smile at him, and he exhales, smiling very lightly, although his eyes are still watery.

“Conrad.” You lightly tread the conversation here, and he blinks, because you have never really called him Conrad before. “Do you want to talk about it with me? Or do you want me to drop me off at your house–” Before you can even finish your sentence, Conrad shakes his head.

“I can’t go back.” He sounds so sullen. “Everywhere I go, I just get reminded of how fucked up it all is.”

You nod at that, still lost.

/

You take him to your favourite, greasy pizza place that’s a bit further out of Cousins, more up north and away from the general traffic of rich summer house owners, and tourists.

As in, there’s no way any of the wedding party can find you guys here.

Conrad has been bouncing on the balls of his feet since you both entered the restaurant. It’s nothing fancy, nothing like what he’d be used to. Off-white, yellowing linoleum counters. Fluorescent, dated menu screens that are also yellowing. $1.99 slices of pizza, large and thin and oily, but cheesy and hot and very tasty. You’d vouch for them on your life.

“What do you usually get?” Conrad asks quietly, leaning to the side to hear you better, and you shake your head.

“So typical of a rich kid.” You snort, and Conrad’s face falls, before his lips form a thin, firm smile.

“Why? Because I want an informed experience?” He retorts, and you blink before laughing.

“No, it’s just funny to tease you. Sorry.” You bite your lip. “I don’t even really know what I meant– maybe that you wouldn’t know a place like this, obviously.”

“I’ve been to shitty hole-in-the-wall restaurants.” Conrad insists with an argumentative tone, but you laugh dismissively.

“Really? Where, NYC?” You raise your eyebrows at him expectantly. “I bet you couldn’t even guess where my cheap clothes are from.” 

You motion down to your old sweatshorts and hoodie combo, and Conrad gives you a look-over, and suddenly you remember that he’s a guy and he’s kind of cute when he leans in like that, thinking.

Except, he’s hurting, and you’re clearly just thirsting since you haven’t had any romantic tension in a while. Regular banter is getting to you.

Conrad holds his jaw as he thinks. “Maybe the Gap?”

“Uh, no.” You look down to examine your sloppy outfit. “The hoodie is from Walmart. The shorts… actually, wait, might be from the Gap? They’re my mom’s. Nice, Conrad, I never even noticed that. You’ve got an eye for detail.”

It’s a silly compliment, but Conrad’s feeling so low, he takes it.

“Thanks.” He smiles, genuinely, his eyes lighting up a little, and you feel glad.

“Anyways. Best thing to order would probably be a cheese. Best way to see how they do the basics.” You murmur to him.

“Smart.” Conrad replies.

/

Sitting at a booth, two slices into the giant pizza you’ve ordered, which Conrad insisted on paying for since you already picked him up and offered to be a willing ear to listen to his problems– favour for a favour was his argument– he finally tells you.

“I dated Belly.” He says, all non-committal, but you can see his neck tighten and clench at her name. “Years and years ago. You would think I’m over it, but…”

“Well, you guys kinda grew up together. Right?” You comment, biting a crust covered in this place’s buttermilk-based hot sauce. “She’s your white whale.”

“Right. I’m Captain Ahab.” Conrad adds, gesturing with his hands. “I just always felt like it was supposed to be us. We were always on the same wave length– always understood each other instantly. I guess, as cliche as it sounds, we never got the fucking timing right.”

The sudden expletive makes you bite your tongue. “Elaborate a little.”

“Just that, after my mom died–” Conrad does the thing you’ve seen in common with other grieving people, he kind of sinks into himself for a second. “I struggled a lot to tell her how I was feeling. What was up with me. And I think Belly blamed it on herself, that I wasn’t caring, or really there for her, even though I told her I couldn’t do that in that moment, that it was my fault, as hard as I wanted to try for us– so she ended things on prom night. Later on, she told me she thought I never loved her like that.”

“Sounds like you were a pretty shit communicator, Conrad.” You comment, just to see his reaction, but he agrees.

“Yeah. I should’ve been honest from the beginning.” Conrad shakes his head, and takes a bite of his own slice of pizza. “I should’ve shown her that I did care, I did love her more than she thought.”

“No.” You interject a bit too loudly, and the night shift employee grimaces at you. “Sorry. No, Conrad. I don’t see anything so wrong with what you’ve said you did.”

“And what if I’m an unreliable narrator?” Conrad side-eyes you, but you side-eye him back.

“No unreliable narrator makes themselves sound so self-deprecatingly pathetic. No offense.” You respond, and he smiles at that. “Listen. It sounds like you’re taking way too much of the blame in this whole situation. Your mother passed away. You were struggling, it’s not your fault that you reacted the way you did. Forgive yourself for not being perfect at every moment.”

“But I…” Conrad sighs. “Even if that was true, I should’ve spoken up. I should’ve told her I did love her so she wouldn’t be marrying that asshole.”

“Life’s easier in hindsight, I know.” You say, not unkindly. “Listen to me. You might’ve done some things wrong, but that doesn’t mean you were the only person at fault. Why wasn’t she there for you? Why was she so quick to assume that your feelings were more shallow than they were?”

“Belly shouldn’t have had to deal with my silent and brooding shit.” Conrad jumps to her defense, but even he knows with his years of therapy now, that you have to find people to rely on. “I should have told her what was up so she could’ve been there for me, for real.”

“Very true. I do think she would’ve been there if you’d let her, I won’t lie.” You admit, finally, and Conrad is glad to hear it. “But that still doesn’t mean Belly doesn’t have her own faults. You say you love her, and maybe you do, too much, that you can’t see how insecure she sounds. Belly’s assumption of your feelings being shallow means she clearly didn’t have much faith in your relationship, either– maybe she thought she wasn’t worth it.”

“Because I made her feel that way.” Conrad argues, stubborn to a fault.

“Easy cop-out. You can give someone like that all the love confessions in the world, and they’ll still find something wrong with it– because they think they’re unlovable.” You lean in. “Hear me out, because I’m just guessing based on what you’ve told me: did Belly ever put you on a pedestal, make you feel like you were the perfect, older, wiser one?”

Conrad nods, slowly, his eyes turning inquisitive.

“And you couldn’t meet those standards, obviously, because nobody’s perfect. But even worse– Belly puts herself below you, by her own insecurity. She refuses to speak on the fact that she doesn’t see herself as worth it for you, instead choosing to let you grovel and apologize for things. And that’s because she doesn’t see the point anymore– she’s stubborn, and a bad communicator, too.” You finish off. “Or so I think. I could be wrong.”

Conrad groans. “Are you a fucking lawyer, or something?”

“Nah, just a lousy paralegal.” You tap the table, thinking. “I don’t know, Conrad, don’t listen to me. I’m entirely an outsider looking in.”

“Fuck, you’re not wrong.” Conrad mulls over what you’ve said, and then nods, his expression turning more frantic. “She never– I don’t think I ever thought she should’ve apologized to me. She never made it less than crystal clear that she totally adored me, and the very second I was imperfect, I failed… she fucking bailed on me.”

“Uh–”

“She loved me to an unfair standard.” Conrad blinks away angry tears. “Fuck, fuck, that’s why she’s so okay with Jeremiah, because he half-asses everything so Belly would never expect much from him.”

“Oh.” You frown at that. “I don’t really remember much about Jeremiah, to be honest.”

“Well, good, you won’t have any memories ruined, because he’s a fucking cheater and I’m the only person who gives a shit, apparently.” Conrad huffs, and then shakes his head. “Sorry. Sorry. That’s why I needed to get out of the bar– I heard him and his friends gloating over that shit. Fucking disgusting.”

“You apologize too much, Conrad.” You gently hold his forearm from across the table, and he looks up at you, blinking, half-enraged still, breathing heavily. “I don’t think very highly of Jeremiah at this moment, considering he went after his brother’s ex, or of Belly for marrying him, despite it all. I’m with you. Sure, it might just be because I’ve only heard your side, but… I’m choosing to believe you, okay?”

He’s blinking back tears. Conrad feels like he’s spent years just wanting someone from the group to listen to him– to just be on his side for once, instead of villainizing him for everything, expecting him to fix everything wrong. And it’s the first time, ever, with you by his side, that he’s felt like it wasn’t all his fault.

Like he had been wronged, too, and now been heard properly for the first time. 

Conrad's overwhelmed.

He collapses very quietly into small, short sobs, sniffling in a way that you can barely hear him. Repressed to a fault, Conrad is.

“Hey. Hey. It’s gonna be okay.” You move to his side of the booth, and against your better judgment, hug him from the side, your arms around his shoulders, which Conrad gratefully takes, his face buried in your shoulder. He doesn’t exactly hug you back– he just lets you hold him.

“M’sorry.” He says, hurriedly, wiping his tears, trying to fix things, because you’re new to him and he doesn’t want to push you away with his bullshit. 

But you look at him and you don’t look judging, just concerned for him, and as you stand up, holding his hand, dragging him and the pizza box back to your car, he’s so beholden to your empathy that he can’t help but follow you.

It’s weirdly intimate, you won’t lie. This is someone you haven’t talked to in years, and suddenly, you’re hugging him, comforting him. Things like this don’t normally happen in 24 hours. You know you went past every boundary that you swore you would set.

But you don’t think Conrad Fisher is going to hurt you, based on what he’s told you today. 

Conrad, for the life of him, is still trying not to break down in the passenger seat, and it’s not until you squeeze his shoulder comfortingly, that he starts talking again in a wavery voice.

“I never– I always thought I had to be the responsible one. Big brother, you know?” He quivers a little at the end of the sentence and you nod encouragingly. “I never felt like I was allowed to have my own problems, but you really helped me. Thank you, genuinely– I don’t think I would’ve ever made a breakthrough without you.”

“Not even with therapy?” You ask, but you feel guilty that you were enjoying Conrad's overly apologetic nature earlier in the day. 

Conrad grimaces.

“Don’t know. Most of the time the therapist would suggest ways for me to fix myself.” Conrad admits, and you make a face at that. “I really, really thought I loved her, you know? I was going to do anything for her.”

“Yeah.” You say, thinking that you’ve never been that in love, and Conrad frowns again. 

“I think I just loved the idea of her.” Conrad slumps back in the seat, pushing his hair back. “I don’t think I ever really knew her.”

/

You dropped him off home around 4 AM. You hoped that was late enough for him not to get ambushed by anyone at the beach house, but Conrad said not to worry since he felt he could handle it.

You hoped he was right about that.

Because of how close you came together, both you and Conrad found it apropos to take some time apart. So you're not overbearing on each other, but also because both of you are unsure if the other person is even really comfortable with the current agreement of whatever it is you got going on. 

Two idiots, really. Both overly conscious of potentially hurting someone else. 

Honestly, you couldn't get your interactions with him off your mind. You hope he is alright, but a part of you also just wants to know what he's up to.

To you, it's the most interesting thing that's happened all year.

Eventually, after it's been about 2 days and you've had time to think, you text him in the middle of the night.

You: hey, you good?

The message is read almost instantly, but he doesn't reply for at least fifteen minutes.

Oh, god, why does this make you feel sick? You're sure it's just childhood trauma– wanting to impress the cool kids.

Conrad swallows, and then commits to texting you, as he lies in his bed. He doesn't want to bug you, even as you offered yourself up, but you're extremely comforting to talk to and a very nice distraction from all the mess. Belly and Jere and the wedding party have regularly been celebrating in the house– and the more he's there, the more he knows he hasn't loved her for years, which feels bittersweet to know now.

Plus the important thing he took away from talking to you is that he has to take up space. So he will.

Conrad: Hey. I’m actually doing great, really all thanks to our talk. I have no idea if you were even comfortable with it. I hope it helps you to know how helpful it was for me.

It’s such a kind message that you were never expecting him to say. He is a sweet guy– you feel like maybe under the veneer of aloofness, Conrad is just really introverted.

Conrad: Sorry that I took so long to message you, anyways. I didn't want to be too annoying, just wanted to say a final thanks

You: you are very welcome. Glad I could help and that you’re doing better.

You: FINAL thanks??? Conrad you better not kill yourself please. I'm invested now

Conrad: what, really? I thought you were just in it for the pizza

You: hahaha. No really I do care. Sorry if I came across kind of weird earlier that day

You: realistically I just want what's best for anyone

Conrad: aw so there's nothing special about me?

There's a pause on your end, no immediate response, and Conrad– who hasn't felt anything a while, other than a lingering obsession for Belly for years– wonders if he's flirting a little.

Wonders if he likes it.

You: I think we both know you're very special

You: for one thing, you have access to a trust fund

Conrad smiles to himself sheepishly. 

Conrad: not anymore

You: anymore??

Conrad: I'll explain it later. Tomorrow if you want

You: I'm not busy anyways. Took the week off to use up vacation days. Was gonna go wedding gift + outfit shopping

Conrad: great. I can repay the favour

You: ???

You: Conrad, you already did that. You bought the pizza, remember?

Conrad: surely you can't think your advice is only worth a 5.99 XL pizza

Now you, in your own bed, smile sheepishly, before you think about how Conrad is in an emotionally vulnerable state and you're kind of a bad person to take advantage of that. You're not asking him out or anything, it's just that it feels… delicate. 

But feelings are going to make themselves felt, and you can't control them with perfect robotic logic. You think you might have a slight inkling of a crush. 

One that you'll shut down, because for one thing– he's probably not over Belly, and for the other thing– how could you be his type?

You: and what if I said yes I do think that?

Conrad: then I'd say you're really undervaluing your services and maybe we need to get you paid a higher wage 

You:omg 

Conrad: kidding. But you can't stop me from repaying what I think you deserve, okay?

Conrad: call it friendship idk. 

You: help I'm being terrorized by a rich man lording his wealth over me and he's calling it friendship

Conrad: please. My father was Rich Man. You can call me Conrad

You burst out laughing at that, not realizing how funny Conrad could be.

/

Conrad picks you up the next day in his nice, new silver Range Rover. 

Actually, he knocks on your door at 8:30 AM on the dot. And you, you're not even dressed– still wearing a giant t-shirt that reads “life's a BEACH” and itty bitty short shorts. Your hair is disheveled and all over the place.

“Cute.” Conrad comments, in the way that you remembered him to be as a kid. Observant, but not exactly mean– just dry. “I like the shirt.”

“Because it's true, right?” You yawn, letting him in. “Sorry. I didn't expect you here so early, Fisher.”

He blinks. “Are we back on a last name basis?”

“Did you ever stop calling me Mann?” You retort, and he grins at that.

“I guess not.”

“You can take a seat– unless my humble beginnings offend you in some way, Fisher.” You point to the couch, and Conrad sits down, not even looking put-off, which you have to give him credit for.

“Who's at the door? Is it my package?” Your mom calls, and she comes downstairs to see, well, Conrad. “Oh!”

“Forgive me for the intrusion, Mrs. Mann.” Conrad immediately stands up and apologizes, and your mom looks to you with a glance that reads do-you-know-this-man.

“Mom, it’s Conrad. Conrad Fisher?” You motion at him, and Conrad, being the kind of guy to be silly but also entirely serious about it, spins around on the spot, so your mom gets a good look at him.

You stifle a laugh, and Conrad looks at you conspiratorially, yet seriously, as if he’s daring you to laugh– you and him are starting to share a sense of humor.

“Oh. You’ve really grown up, Conrad. I’m sorry– I didn’t recognize you.” Your mom finally says, after taking a long gander at him, and then back at you, with more questions apparent on her face. 

“That’s totally my bad.” Conrad takes the blame, even though you told him to stop doing that so much. “I should have visited more often.”

“No, no. That’s okay. Maybe she could’ve reached out more.” Your mom points a finger at you, and you shrug with a slightly teenage attitude. “So, not to be an overbearing parent, but why are you here? Just curious, I swear.”

You know that tone of voice. Your mom is about to make a massive Mom-sin and say something embarrassing.

“Mom–” You try to interject, but it’s too late.

“I mean, she used to really hate you when you guys were kids.” Your mom elaborates, and you exhale, face in your hands, as if the most private secret of your whole life has been revealed– it’s not that deep, and yet you know from the way Conrad is looking at you, he’s never going to let this go.

“I know.” He grins at your mom. “I’m trying to change that.”

You think he’s just saving face.

“Mom, Conrad’s just helping me go shopping for the wedding stuff today, alright? Like the gift and the dress and things?” You try to move her along with your answer, but she stops in her tracks towards the kitchen.

“Really? But he’s the groom’s brother, isn’t he? Why would he be helping some girl that used to hate him, when there’s probably a ton of wedding planning to do?” She prattles on, not noticing how you are losing your patience a little.

Conrad notices, though. He notices everything– guilty of being the older brother, he guesses.  

“To be honest, Mrs. Mann,” Conrad starts, and you really hope that he’s not going to start explaining everything about Belly being his ex and awkward tension with her and his brother is preventing him from helping out.

Your mom’s a gossip, and hearing that will probably permanently seal her to your couch, listening to this story for good.

“The wedding’s pretty much covered. Belly and Jere don’t need any help– they’re all just out there partying.” Conrad asserts, which isn’t exactly wrong– it’s more like even if he offered help, they wouldn’t take it at this point.

You’re so glad he can read your signals, somehow.

“Okay. How kind of you, Conrad.” Your mom smiles at him, and gently touches his shoulder. He smiles back, and your mom looks at you, and you know she’s thinking something romantic is happening, because why else would he care enough to come and help you with these things?

As if– this is just a strange friendship. You’re sure as soon as all of these favours are over and done with, you and Conrad will both have gotten a nice experience out of this summer– nothing more.

/

“So, Mann. You used to hate me.” Conrad notes, when you’re both in his car, and you’ve gotten all  ready and comfortable, wearing capri jeans and a flowy top.

“Ugh, Fisher, don’t start with that.” You request. “Please? My mom doesn’t know what she’s talking about, I never hated you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I hated Jeremiah.” You try, but all it takes is one sputter on Conrad’s part to make you start laughing. “Okay, no. But I swear I never–”

“No, it’s fine, Mann.” Conrad counters you, as he begins to park in a spot, near the downtown shops of Cousins. “I know you did.”

“What?” You fix a quizzical glance on him. “Even if that was true, what do you mean, you know?”

“I saw the way you used to look at me.” Conrad admits, and you want to refute that– but he’s already exiting the car, shutting the door, and you’re walking after him.

“But– Conrad–” You want to apologize, now, because you’re worried that he’s offended. That he might think you were trying to pull one over him, and that’s why you were so kind to him– so you could laugh in his face now.

You have no intent of doing that, but you don’t want him to have the wrong impression of you, anyways.

“Have you ever noticed that you only use my first name when you’re being nice to me?” He inquires, with a little smirk, and you stop right next to him.

He’s staring down at you. The sun shining through his brown hair, his eyes looking more like the blue of the sky behind him. 

“Yeah, because I care about you, Conrad.” You stress, before you can even stop yourself from saying it. 

But it’s true, isn’t it? Even if you grow apart after this week of convenient friendship– and you will, surely, as adult friendships typically go– you do care about him.

It feels like a loss to admit it. Like you’re already mourning him.

And so you look up at him tentatively, to see if admitting this has any effect on the fact that he knows you hated him, once upon a time.

Conrad has never look more self-assured. Kind, even, as his eyes glance over yours. 

“Relax, Mann.” He grins, finally. “I know you used to hate me. Obviously, you don’t now.”

You do relax, visibly, and Conrad thinks you look much more agreeable– you’re very pretty even when you’re angry, though.

And he’s been on the receiving end of your angry face for years.

“What I want to know,” He says your name, and continues on. “Is why you did. Why you hated me, past tense.”

“Wow, Conrad.” You fold your arms together, and start walking to the nearest dress shop. “We’re certainly having a lot of heart-to-hearts for people who are barely friends.”

“Maybe this is what will make us good friends, then.” Conrad says. “Being honest– the start to any good friendship, right?”

“Besides,” He continues again, as you’re entering the store. “Therapy taught me to stop repressing shit. So I wanna make sure every relationship I have starts on the right foot.”

“Very true.” You take a look over at all the dresses, ignoring the way your face is flushing at Conrad’s use of “relationship.”

“I just hope you’re not trauma bonding with me,” You kid, and your eye is immediately caught by a taupe-silver dress that’s got little gemstones along the bodice.

“No. I’m not.” Conrad says far too seriously, that makes your stomach flip-flop so you excuse yourself to go try on this dress in the fitting room– and another random one you grab on the way there.

/

After zipping yourself in the random dress– a butter yellow monstrosity that was clearly on trend a couple years ago– you poke your head out.

“Still want to know why I hated you, Fisher?” You remark, and he gestures for you to continue from his seat on the couch.

“Definitely.” He leans forward to hear you. And maybe to check out how you look in the dress.

Not in that way, no way. Just to tell you if it looks right for the wedding. If it’s formal enough.

“Okay.” You step out, and before Conrad can say a thing about the dress, you launch into the backstory. “Don’t judge me, okay. In my defense, I was a bratty kid, who didn’t know any better.”

“I might’ve been just as bratty.”

“...” You turn towards the mirror, and then back to him. “I used to really dislike you, because you seemed like this perfect rich kid, who got everything handed to him, and you had the nerve to also be kind of cool and hard to talk to– looking back you might have just been shy, honestly– and I thought we were friends, so it really hurt my feelings, as a kid, that you were rejecting me, because I guess in my fucked up self esteem, as a kid, I thought it was because I was poor. I kinda assumed you hated poorer people, which was wrong.”

“Jesus Christ.” Conrad raises his eyebrows, and you raise a finger.

“Again, I cannot emphasize this enough: As a literal child.” You stress. “I don’t believe that anymore, Conrad.”

“Is that why you make so many comments about me being rich and having a trust fund?” Conrad throws back at you, and you’re actually at a loss for words.

“Um, you kind of out-manoeuvred me on that one.” You admit, and sit down. “Listen– I don’t think you’re some rich asshole now. Those are just jokes.”

“I know, I just thought it was funny to point out.” Conrad laughs to himself. “You’re not wrong, though. I’ve thought the same– we are a bunch of shitty trust fund kids. Although, we don’t have trust funds anymore. It all went to the summer house.”

“Oh.” You don’t know if you should apologize.

“Don’t apologize, please.” Conrad interjects. “I don’t think we will ever be broke or homeless or hungry, so I don’t care not to have the trust fund. And I know that’s a privileged thing to think, too– I just am very aware of my good fortune in life. I didn’t have to pay for college, Mann, I didn’t even have to worry about having good grades because I went to good schools that offer good education as a kid. Life’s incredibly unfair when you’re rich.”

“You really… know what you’re talking about.” You conclude, knowing you can’t add anything, because he’s right, and Conrad nods.

“That’s why I want to be a doctor. Help people legitimately. Not to be a corporate overlord like my dad.” Conrad finishes, and you are genuinely surprised.

You knew Conrad was smart– he was one of those annoying, smart-yet-cool people as a kid, who could have it all– you just didn’t know he was in pre-med.

“I’m seriously impressed and at a loss for words.” You say, and he shakes his head.

“Stop it, it’s nothing that deep.” He shrugs. “I just had this need to prove myself. As one of the good ones, I guess.”

“No such thing as a good oligarch.” You joke, and Conrad chuckles.

“I know.” He leans back in his sofa seat. “I wish you would’ve told me when we were kids.”

“What, that you were kinda stand-offish?”

“No, just that you wanted to still be friends.” Conrad says, and you realize that you did say that.

You did admit to wanting their friendship as a kid, but still would imply that you had it.

“I… I’m not sure if I would’ve articulated it correctly, at that age.” You shrug, and Conrad is staring at you, absentmindedly. “You might’ve thought I was crazy, assuming that we were close enough to even argue being friends.”

“Excuse me?” Conrad frowns. “We were friends. Sure, maybe friendships fall apart, maybe it’s been years of silence since, but I never forgot being friends with you back then.”

You don’t believe him, and he can tell.

“Remember the Fisher-Mann joke we used to make?” Conrad says in a slightly pleading tone, and you do remember. 

“If we fused, we’d be the best fisherman Cousins would ever see.” You remember it now. You would clamber onto Conrad’s shoulders and he’d run into the sea, as if you guys could catch a fish like that. 

It’s a fond childhood memory, one that you didn’t realize he would remember.

“I didn’t think it meant anything to you, but I’m glad it did.” You smile at him, and he smiles back. “I’m glad we became friends again.”

“Me too.” Conrad stands up, suddenly, and comes forward, which makes your smile drop. “It means I can tell you in confidence that that dress is… not the best.”

You pause, shut your eyes at the audacity, but also secretly commend him for phrasing it in a way that’s so neutral it’s not even hurtful. “Thanks, Fisher.”

“There’s the last name, again. No, don’t worry, I like it, it indicates that you’re not playing nice anymore.” Conrad pushes you back into the fitting room while you protest a little. “Try on the other dress, Mann.”

“The first one?”

“Yeah.”

/

You don’t know why you shied away from it– maybe because it’s a lot more fancy than anything you’re used to wearing.

“This better not be a My Fair Lady situation, Fisher…” You slowly pull back the curtain and walk out.

It’s a silvery, dark gray-taupe silk gown, with spaghetti straps, and a open back with a tie up situation, a long ribbon zig-zagging across your bare back. The bodice is a ruched material fashioned in a sort of sweetheart-neckline, and along the border there are little stones that reflect white in the light.

You’re waiting for him to say something. He’s just staring at you, thinking, and you need to know what he wants to say.

“It doesn’t fit the best, I think…” You turn over in the mirror, seeing how loose it seems around your waist and chest. 

You feel a bit out of your element. The nicest dress you own is from Banana Republic.

Conrad comes up behind you.

“Turn around?” He utters, and you stiffen at how close he is. You can feel his breath on the back of your head. “Just trust me.”

You gently nod.

Conrad re-ties the corset so the bodice and waist sit higher and fit you a lot better. His fingers kind of trace your backside for a moment, and you turn, an unspoken whisper of Conrad flitting in your throat.

It dies when he leans in. 

“Mann?” He kinda murmurs, and there’s a beat of tension that you didn’t know things were leading towards. “You look great. Really pretty, in fact.”

/

That sentence replays in your head all night, after you’ve gone home, when you’re bundled up in your blankets but you’re unable to sleep.

You’re sweaty, your heart’s racing.

But you can’t help but have a rather girlish excitement over the whole thing– he called you pretty, and he meant it. You know he wouldn’t lie– he said it to help your confidence, too.

So you wouldn’t feel out of place at the wedding.

Afterwards, you had moved away, unsure of what to say, and Conrad blinked, and then turned red, as if he’d been too caught up in the moment. 

But he never apologized for it, either, never took back the moment– just let it be.

And then as you went to buy a gift for Jeremiah and Belly– matching cufflinks and earrings– you accidentally bumped into Conrad in the department store, and he held his hand against your waist to steady you, and then moved back again, but not as far as he could have.

You know it’s all new, and unsteady, and there’s no need to question what could just be considered flirting, at this point.

But you’re wary that he could just be clinging onto the next thing, after Belly. You don’t want to be a rebound– you’re still a person with your own feelings.

You hope Conrad sees that, too.

/

It might be crazy for Conrad to even think this, so early on, but to not admit his feelings would be akin to lying.

He’s looking forward to seeing you at the wedding.

That… shouldn’t be his first thought at his brother’s wedding, but he’s stopped caring about that. The only highlight of this ceremony has been getting to know you.

He hasn’t even bothered to pay attention to whatever dance they’ve been practicing this morning. Sure, his moves are floppy, but Jeremiah is just happy that his big brother is actually participating.

Conrad might still be a little angry– that Jere could do that, cheat on someone– but he’s not so cruel so to not be there for Jeremiah. Actually, he finds that he and Belly never had a relationship worth sacrificing Jeremiah for.

By the time Conrad is up by the altar, next to Jeremiah, he doesn’t feel that ache that he felt a week ago. That Belly should’ve been his– that he was entitled to her presence, that she loved him back, that she was this impossible fantasy of a perfect girl, and that he should’ve married her.

No, he doesn’t feel anything but a weird aftertaste to the whole thing, something that feels like what if there was still a chance, even though he knows that’s not worth thinking about. He can see that visually, at least, they’re happy together– whether or not that’s true is up to Jere and Belly.

And when she walks down the aisle, Conrad looks down that way for the first time, not just to see her, but the entire crowd, as well.

Of course his dad invited everyone, through fucking Kayleigh, too.

But at least that means you are there. Next to your mom, wearing the dress Conrad decided was better for you– not that he’s trying to claim ownership.

And how gorgeous you look, Conrad thinks, with your hair done more elegantly, and your face made up to really draw attention to your lovely features.

When your glance finally catches his– and there’s a slight realization there, that it’s him and it’s you, together, looking at each other– Conrad realizes he’s got it for you, badly.

/

At the reception, you’re sitting at your assigned seat in the country club, laughing at a kid dancing along really poorly to whatever shitty EDM music Jeremiah must’ve picked.

There’s a tap on your shoulder.

It’s Conrad, wearing a tuxedo suit, looking especially bold now that he’s left the groom’s table first, to come and talk to you. He seems to genuinely light up when you make eye contact with him.

“Aw, Fisher.” You stand up from your seat, and do something that bolsters your burgeoning relationship further– you hug him, and he hugs you back. “Tell the happy couple I said congrats, will you?”

“Sure.” He whispers in your ear, not letting go of the hug until you do. Still, his hand traces your arm lightly.

You don’t mind that. Not even with your mom noticing and tutting in the background.

And she’s not the only one, either. Lots of other people in relation to the Fishers, whether that be through family or business, are staring at you now.

You know what they’re thinking. Who’s the mystery woman who’s managed to capture a satisfactory match with a wealthy male?

“It’s all very Jane Austen, isn’t it, Conrad?” You whisper, hoping he gets it.

“I know. They’re not even hiding the fact that they’re eyeing you up,” Conrad whispers back, his mouth very nearly grazing your ear, which causes your face to flush. “I hate it. Sorry, but I really do. I don’t care what kind of money or status you have.”

“Oh, Conrad Fisher, my saviour.” You snort, and he lightly shoves your arm, but he’s fighting back laughter.

/

Belly makes a very beautiful bride. You can admit that.

But you wonder if Conrad notices, that with every moment, she glances at him, too.

You’re not exactly jealous– you don’t have enough of a stake in the situation to be jealous– but you’re kind of anxious. You really do like him– you just wonder if there’s anything still lingering inside him for Belly.

You don’t want to be hurt.

She might be married now, but there’s something strangely possessive about the way she looks at him. And Conrad, good natured as ever, doesn’t even bother to look at her unless he’s looking at the married couple.

As if he really, truly, does not care.

/

On the dance floor, Conrad– despite being a horrific dancer, and shy in his own right– has nervous energy to expend, and you seem to be his only friend right now, at least the only person available to dance with, so he’s yanking you out there.

“Fisher, seriously–” You pretend to yank yourself back, in a half ass fashion, but you actually do love to let loose on the dance floor, so you move forward, and he pulls a little too hard, and you kind of land into his arms all by accident.

“Oh.” He says, way too close, gazing into your eyes. 

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, and then let go, not wanting to have a great big romantic moment at someone else’s wedding.

At his ex girlfriend’s wedding.

You don’t want to be that girl. Swooping in like a vulture, and grabbing Conrad like he’s just a bunch of vulnerable remains for you to gobble up. 

You don’t think Conrad is thinking clearly, either. He won’t stop looking at your face, reading into something.

“What, Mann? What is it?” He asks, and you shake your head, the thumping music getting to you. “You know you can tell me anything at this point–”

“That’s just it, Fisher!” You chide him, and he looks deeply confused. “Can I talk to you? Outside?”

/

Conrad is worried.

Worried you’re about to tell him that you think things are moving too fast, even though he was sure– this time– that everything was mutual.

He doesn’t want to lose you as a friend, too. So he’s preparing to swallow down his feelings– much easier when there’s not such a strong sense of nostalgia wrapped around the whole thing, like Belly.

But he sees you thinking, outside in the cold air of the country club, your brows furrowed in such a level of focus that he knows only you would have– and he really knows that he likes you, and it’s not as simple as just wishing it away.

“Conrad–” You start, but you catch him already looking at you, and you don’t know what to say. “I…”

“Yeah?” He murmurs, staring from your eyes to your lips, and you can’t take it.

“I think that you know already.” You say, instead, and he nods. “Us, that there is kind of an us now, you know?”

“I know.” Conrad sighs, a deep, rumbling sigh, and he takes your hand, holding it in his own.

It’s much more intimate than the first time you held his hand– comforting him as he cried, leaving the pizza place– this is heavy with something else.

Some kind of tension.

“But.” You swallow, eyes flitting between looking at Conrad’s eyes and looking at the ground. “I just feel like, maybe, it’s too soon. You might still love…”

Conrad says your name. “No, listen. I don’t love her anymore.”

“But how do you know you’re not just getting wrapped up in the next fun thing?” You plead with him, and his face drops. “There’s years of growing up together, and then the time that you were in love with her, and that might have been years ago, but I can’t really compare to that, Conrad.”

“I don’t think you do.” Conrad says, and then blinks back in surprise at what he said. “Shit, that’s not what I meant. I meant that you’re entirely different.”

“Oh.” You still frown, though, and Conrad hates that, so he traces the side of your face, trying to get you to smile again.

It sort of works.

“I don’t want to compare you guys.” Conrad says, but he realizes you’re not going to be satisfied with that answer. “Okay, listen. Belly will always be apart of my past, my memories, that much is true.”

You nod, waiting to hear him proclaim that a part of him will always love her.

“But I think it’s a load of bullshit that you think you’re not enough for me. You’re not just a ‘fun thing’, or a rebound, you’re interesting in your own right– you’re your own woman, and if you let me, I’d want to get to know you in that way.” Conrad affirms, his face hard with how serious he means this. “I don’t love her– I loved the idea of her, remember? I was carrying a torch for nothing more than her memory. We talked about this before.”

“But still– what if you’re not over–”

“What if I’m not over some nostalgic feeling I get when I see her?” Conrad answers, cementing that it’s just that. “Childhood nostalgia. When you think destiny is written in the stars, instead of something you make your own. I’m an adult– I can choose to ignore that, and I’m going to, because–”

“I know. You’re gonna say you want something new with me, something you can make on your own.” You add to his poetic phrasing. “I just, I want to ask that we take it slowly, Conrad, if you’re really being serious–”

“So you do like me, Mann?” Conrad interrupts, and you blink at his question.

“Is it not obvious? I do.” You laugh, and Conrad grins.

“I just wanted to hear you say it.” He admits, and you put your face against his chest.

“You’ve been through a lot, Conrad.” You tell him, and he knows that, but it feels good again to hear you say it. “You deserve to be happy.”

“And I think that’s with you.” Conrad insists in a hushed whisper, and then he does what he was thinking of in the dress boutique, when he came far too close for words.

He leans in, holding your face, and kisses you, and it is exciting, because it’s you, and he knows he really does like you, in an entirely different and new way that he ever liked anyone else.

You haven’t been kissed in a while, let alone with someone you actually like, and you’re trying not to get overwhelmed– but Conrad unfortunately is a very good kisser, and it flusters you when he suddenly dives in further, bending down so he can kiss you harder, and you kind of shiver into his mouth, but you feel him groan into it, and you know it’s doing something for him, too.

And you smile– which Conrad mimics, himself, but he doesn’t let you go. Not just yet. 

As Conrad kisses you, he thinks that first loves are kind of overrated. Or, that love is new every time you experience it with a new person.

And– as he would tell you later on– you were right to “hate” him back then. Conrad feels like there’s a very thin line between hate and love– you would only ever be so obsessive about someone you cared about.

[catherinnn]

Linger

Conrad Fisher x afab!reader

a bit of enemies/exes to fuck buddies to lovers

words: 3k.

warnings: SMUT (+18), piv, fingering, choking kink, set in season 1 maybe?, je**miah fisher mentioned.

You were here once again, with him under your sheets as you sit on his lap and ride him while he helps you go up and down with his arms. Your whispered moans going straight into his ear as he mouths on your shoulder, neck, jaw… anywhere.

You figured you were going to fall right back into rhythm when you saw him again this summer, looking somehow even taller and hotter. You broke up with Conrad last year after dating all summer. The two of you combined could’ve won the prize for the worst communication skills ever. Always hiding your true feelings and acting as cool as possible.

But in God’s twisted plan, he also gave the two of you the best chemistry that two people could ever have. So it was only human to make the most out of it. Becoming, as of this summer, exes with benefits? Basically, secretly fooling around still.

“Fuck, just like that” he throws he head back, the dim light coming from the window illuminating his face, where you could see his mouth slightly opened, eyes closed shut, and frunced eyebrows. A shiny sheet of sweat on his forehead, making his perfect hair stick to it. You couldn’t decide which looked rosier: if his cheeks or his lips.

“Oh! Conrad!” he moves you on his cock even faster now, making you go at the pace he wanted, even though you were on top of him.

The sheets end up twisted, half-kicked to the floor. Conrad is now laying next to you, chest rising and falling as you both catch your breath.

You roll onto your side, searching the floor for your shirt. “You always manage to lose half my clothes, Fisher”

Conrad popped himself up on one elbow, smirking. “Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying it now. Not when you sounded like you did just a minute ago”

“I don’t sound like anything”

“Yes, you do. Conrad! Oh my god!” his voice higher, mocking the gasp you had made just minutes earlier.

“Shut up!” you swatted at his chest.

“I’m telling the truth. You’re the loud one” he laughs, big smug grin on his face.

You kiss him again, maybe that will shut him up. He leans in, pulling you closer. Fingers pressed into bare skin.

Then, you make it clear that this night is over as you get dressed again, and start your night routine as a hint that you’re now going to sleep. He takes it, slips quietly out of your room without another word.

Cousins was a truly magical place, the sand, the waves, the sunsets. But if there’s something else you loved about this place it would be how alive the nights are. Every night, you could find a house party to crash if you wanted to. Someone’s parents out of town, someone else’s mansion was blasting music with the front door opened.

You weren’t planning on staying long. Your plan was to show up, say hi to the girls, have a drink or two, then leave. But plans like that never lasted around here, not when Conrad Fisher was in the same room.

He was across the living room, beer bottle in hand, leaning against the wall, talking to a group of people… or most specifically to the girl standing next to him. That smug smile as the girl laughs at literally anything he says. You roll your eyes and just look away as you convinced yourself you weren’t in the mood for this type of night.

However, it didn’t take long before he found you too. And just like that, the rest of the room might as well not exist for him. He excused himself and weaved through the people to reach you.

“Well, well, didn’t think you’d actually show” he smiles.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you shoot back.

“You look really good” he completely ignores your disparagement he knows you don’t mean.

“You’re drunk” you try to brush it off.

“I’m not,” he chuckles. “this is my first”

It was always like this–the way your conversations flow, one step forward, two steps back.

Before you could say anything else, a tall blonde guy appeared at your side. “Hey, I know you, don’t I? Haven’t seen you in forever. Can I get you a drink?”

“I don’t think I know you, sorry” you try to politely decline.

“Well, you could know me” he smirks.

Conrad was quietly staring at this guy, noticing his approach. “She said she’s good”

“I wasn’t asking you, man” the other guy glances at him.

You could practically feel Conrad stiffen beside you, jaw clenching, eyes narrowing. You put your hand on his arm as if to tell him you got this.

“I’m good, really. But thanks”

the blonde lingered for a moment, before heading off, clearly not reading the room.

“What an idiot” he mutters under his breath.

“Jealous much?” you tease, fully turned to him now, enjoying the irritation in his face.

“Of that guy? Please”

“You looked ready to push him off me just because he offered me a drink”

“He was drooling all over you”

“Funny. You don’t seem to complain when every girl in Cousins does that with you”

“What?” he makes a surprised face.

“Don’t play dumb, every girl here is waiting for her chance with Conrad Fisher” you mock them.

“Funny, you sound jealous now” he slowly smirks.

"Couldn't care less” you lie. You keep staring at each other, tension rising, daring each other, until someone bumps into you, breaking the moment. Conrad catches you by the waist, his hands linger.

“Careful, dude” he throws a really bad look to the drunk person. “You too” he looks down at you then, softer look on his face now. You just roll your eyes at how obvious he is. “What?” he laughs.

“Don’t flatter yourself”

“Just admit it, you missed me last night” he flirts.

“I slept just fine” your eyes narrow.

“Then you missed me before that, to help you sleep”

“You know what? I think I’ve heard enough of you”

“You liked it” he keeps trying.

“I like shutting you up” you correct him.

“You’re not doing a very good job tonight,” he leans closer, voice low, intimate. “I can’t seem to stop talking when you’re around”

“You are..” you roll your eyes, sigh, hide your smile. “exhausting”

“And yet,” he comes even closer. “you’re still talking to me” Conrad then leans back just enough to give you space. “Wanna get out of here?” he offers his hand.

“And let all these people talk saying we’re back together? Not a chance”

He leans down, whispering in your ear. “People are already talking” And he goes back up. “You care too much about what people think”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Every move you make it’s calculated, too careful, too proper”

“What do you even care? You’re not my life coach” you cross your arms.

“I don’t care” he lies. “I just think you’d have more fun if you loosened up. Fun you is my favorite, not this uptight” he smirks.

“I’m not uptight” you frown.

“Prove it then” he says and he knows he has you.

And that’s how you first end up playing beer pong together against Jeremiah and Steven; and then somehow you even convince him to dance with you.

By the end of the night, when your feet start hurting from your shoes, you get your purse, ready to head home, when Conrad comes back to your side.

“You’re leaving?” he asked.

“Yeah”

“Come with me” he smiles faintly, not wanting to let you go just yet.

“Where to?” you ask, playing dumb. He doesn’t answer, but starts walking with you.

His room already feels comfortable the minute you walk in. It holds the story of you two: starting in this room as friends many years ago; your first kiss together; your first time together; the moment it all fell apart between screams and tears; and now, this secret affair you couldn't help but fall into.

It's like nothing has changed in here, still the same posters on the same blue walls, same bed that is already too familiar with the feeling of you two in it. But the boy inside that room has changed, he's not as hard to read as he once was, he's more open to you now. Maybe you have changed too. Maybe this is no longer what it once was, for better or for worse.

In no time, he has you under him on his bed. In no time, your clothes start to feel unnecessary. In no time, shoes, shirts and pants are all decorating the floor of his room. Like extra additions you no longer needed when you two were alone.

He's kissing your neck slowly, hands wandering on your body while yours tangle in his hair.

"Are you wearing my favorite set on purpose? Did you already know you'd end up here tonight? Huh, smart girl?" he asks in a low and deep voice. His blue eyes finding yours, making you weak in the knees

"Pure coincidence" you whisper back at him, which may or may not be true.

"Is it? I'm just a lucky bastard then" he doesn't break eye contact, one hand tracing your neck, up to your jaw. "Very fucking lucky"

You move your head up, giving his hand more access to do as it wishes to your neck. "Con" you moan.

"You like teasing me?" his tone is playful and accusatory.

"You're the one taking it slow" you're pushing your luck as his hand slowly wraps around your neck, not applying pressure yet, as if it was warning you.

"I'm teasing both of us it seems" a faint grin on his lips. "Let me take care of that"

His other hand moves slowly from your chest down your body, to then apply some pressure right over your panties, and then get inside of them. A gasp escapes your lips as his fingers start playing with your clit, knowing the exact movements to make you squirm.

After circling your clit for a few moments, he goes just a bit lower and slowly inserts his two middle fingers inside of you.

"Fuck, Conrad" you arch back and his hand starts applying pressure on your neck as if to warn you to stay still.

"Right there?" he mocks you with his tone. Your eyes are close shut but you can feel his stare not leaving your face, not wanting to miss even one of your reactions.

"Yes, faster"

He does as you say immediately, moving his fingers inside of you at a much better pace.

His hand on your neck goes lower as if he couldn't help himself and moves the lace of the bra down to have a direct approach to your nipples. His mouth slowly wraps around one of them, in contrast to the way his fingers work your cunt, and his free hand plays with your other tit.

Your hips could start moving at his pace, to follow that satisfaction even more, if it weren’t for his own body stopping you with its weight.

"Yeah, harder, harder" you moan, your fingers pulling on his hair.

His hand works more aggressively into you, just the way you needed, making that intense feeling approaching you more and more.

"Are you gonna cum already, pretty girl?" his mouth on your nipple leaves messy kisses up to your ear to ask this.

"Yes! Yesss, I am!" you moan louder.

"Cum for me, then" he says in an agitated and deep voice that in all seriousness just helps you get even closer.

"Oh my- god!" you arch back as you allow the orgasm to wash all over you.

His fingers then slowly move to a stop to then get them out of you. He waits, just staring at your fucked-out face until you can come back down.

"Can I keep going?" he asks once your breath evens out a little.

"Yes, please" you confirm, and he reaches to his nightstand to grab a condom and put it on him.

"Come here" he whispers and removes your panties and then your bra as well. "Lay down, beautiful"

Who are you to oppose his directions? Even more so when he adds a compliment at almost every sentence. And by the way he's looking down at you, you know he really means them.

He positions himself at your entrance and slowly starts thrusting in. His face is already morphing to show the pleasure he's feeling, and you think it might just be the hottest he's ever looked.

His pace starts going harder and harder at each thrust, letting you adjust to his size. And once he starts hearing those cute fucking sounds you make, he knows you want more.

He puts one of your legs over his shoulder and he can already go deeper. "Fuck, yeah"

"Mphh, Con" your hands grip the pillow under your head.

"Feel so good, baby. Only you" he lets out, getting completely lost in the pleasure.

His hand moves to play with your clit, making you moan louder, just how he likes it.

"Oh, yes... fuck, Conrad!" you can't form other variations of words at this moment, too focused on the way he feels inside of you and him only amplifying it by rubbing your clit.

He would not stop munching at your neck, even though you've told him not to on several occasions already. You end up laughing at the way it tickles you, but he quickly cuts the laughter with more gasping. It wasn’t as careful as you wished, you could calculate all the forecasts of a secret affair but in the heart of a moment like this, all critical thinking was thrown off the window, it was reckless and real.

And when it's over, when you are sprawled across his sheets, catching your breath in the dark, you force yourself to sit up, reaching for your clothes scattered on the floor.

“You’re leaving?” his voice was softer now, tired.

You glance at him, hair mussed, skin flushed, the sheet barely covering his hips. “It’s late”

“Exactly. It's too late to walk home"

“It’s nothing” you say quickly, pulling your shirt over your head.

“Sweetheart,” His tone made you pause. "Stay"

“I shouldn’t"

“Yeah, but you want to” He reaches out, catching your wrist gently, thumb brushing over your skin. “And you’re half-asleep already”

“Am not" you protest, biting back the yawn that was ready to come out.

"Come on, just sleep here, no one’s gonna care”

You hesitate, every instinct screaming at you to keep distance. But your body betrayed yourself, leaning towards him, ready to enjoy the quiet cuddly moment now.

With a sigh you kick off your shorts again, and lie with him. “Just for tonight”

“Sure” he says easily, his arm immediately wrapping around you, pulling you close.

You let your head rest against his chest. His hand tracing slow patterns along your back. And you allowed yourself to maybe admit you missed this part of him as well.

“Don’t overthink it,” he murmurs into your hair. “just sleep”

For once, you don't argue.

You woke slowly, for a second, you almost forgot where you were—until you shifted and felt his arm heavy and warm across your waist. His chest rises steady against your back, his breath brushes your hair. You turn, careful not to wake him.

Of course, he stirred anyway. His eyes blinked open, heavy with sleep, and then he gave you this crooked, lazy smile that was unfairly charming for this early in the morning.

“Morning” he says, voice low and rough.

“Morning," you sigh. "I should probably get going”

He only tightens his arms around your waist, pulling you closer against him. "Stay, It’s too early, you're comfortable"

"I'm comfortable?" you laugh.

"Yes, don't go," he smirks. "Plus, Susannah's making breakfast"

You hesitate, staying would mean walking downstairs with him with his whole family seeing you. But Conrad’s thumb brushes circles over your hip, his face buried in your hair, and only thinking of pulling away from this feels criminal.

When you finally drag yourselves out of bed, you put your clothes back on and try to tame your hair in the mirror while Conrad leans in the doorway, just watching you with a smirk.

"What?" you ask.

"Nothing," he shrugs, smirking. "You just... look like you didn't sleep much"

"Conrad" you complain but he only grins wider.

"Relax, I meant because you were tossing and turning. Not my fault if people assume otherwise"

"That’s not helpful!"

Downstairs, the smell of coffee and bacon greets you before anything else. Susannah spots you immediately.

“Honey, you look beautiful!” Susannah’s whole face lights up like it was Christmas morning. She abandons the spatula to put you into a hug.

You hug her too, a little taken aback, while over Susannah’s shoulder you catch Conrad mouthing Mom, stop. Of course she ignores him.

"You're staying for breakfast," she orders. “Sit, sit—Connie, make her coffee”

“Mom” Conrad mutters as he obeys either way.

By the time you sit down at the table, Jeremiah and Steven look at you with sleepy faces and grins.

“Well, well, well,” Jeremiah starts. "look who’s still here. Morning"

"Naah, man, you think she stayed over?" Steven asks very sarcastically. "But in what room?- Oh, oh, nevermind"

"Shut up you two. We just..." you try to defend yourself.

"Oh, we know," Jeremiah cuts you. "Just so inseparable last night. Couldn't keep your hands off each other"

"And then disappearing together, so weird" Steven adds.

Conrad, on the other hand, was maddeningly unbothered. He just leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee with a faint smirk. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you guys”

By the time Susannah sat down, piling plates of fruits and pancakes, you felt caught.

But when Conrad reaches under the table to lace his fingers with you, you don't pull away. You squeeze back.

[goosemon]

—silent

warning: if you steal this i will find you and there will be consequences

husband!conrad fisher x wife!reader

fluff

+

the fight happened in the morning. it wasn’t loud, not screaming, but sharp. words that cut because they came out too fast, both of you tired and frustrated. you said he never shows you how he feels, he said you never see the things he does. the kitchen felt too small with the tension, both of you standing there like strangers. he grabbed his keys, mumbled something under his breath, and left.

the silence lingers. you don’t text, he doesn’t call. you wander around the house, folding laundry, scrolling on your phone, but it feels empty without him in it.

by afternoon, you hear the car in the driveway. the trunk slams, grocery bags rustle. he doesn’t ask you to help, just carries everything in, arms full, face calm but unreadable. he puts things away like it’s muscle memory—fridge, pantry, cabinets. a bouquet of small daisies gets tucked in a jar by the sink, no note, no explanation.

you keep to yourself, curled on the couch. he moves around you quietly—taking the trash out, bringing in the mail, setting a glass of water down on the table near you without a word.

when dinner comes, he takes over the kitchen. the sound of oil popping in the pan, the scrape of his knife against the cutting board. it smells good, too good to ignore. you hover in the doorway, watching him stir the sauce, shoulders tense but steady.

the flashback of the fight comes back while you watch him—his eyes flashing when he told you, “you don’t even notice when i’m trying,” and the way your voice cracked when you snapped back, “because you never say it.” it stung. both of you still carrying it.

when he finally sets the food down, he places your plate in front of you first. not looking at you, just sliding it close enough that the fork rests right by your hand. he sits across from you, eating quietly, the scrape of forks and spoons the only sound for a while.

you take a bite, and it’s perfect—exactly the way you like it. he notices you eating, relief flickering in his eyes for half a second before he looks back down.

the silence starts to shift, not heavy anymore, just gentle. he pours you more water without asking. passes the bread basket your way. doesn’t speak, but every movement is soft, deliberate.

after dinner, you clear your plate. when you go to wash it, he steps in, quietly taking the dish from your hand. “i got it,” he murmurs. barely above a whisper, but it’s the first words he’s given you all day.

[thegoldendice]

After All Is Said and Done

Summary - Your plans for an idyllic week at the beach with Conrad are suddenly thrown into chaos when you run into Belly, his first love. When you find a ring box in his bag, you worry that Conrad’s planned proposal may be ruined.

Pairing - Conrad Fisher/Reader

Tags - future fic, aged-up characters, romance, fluff, proposal, grief, loss of parents, kissing, light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, fix-it

Words - 3k

Author’s Note - This one is mainly for those of us who feel that Conrad may be better off away from all the drama surrounding Belly (whom I also love, just to be clear). Girl needs a break from the mess, too, but we’re focusing on Con for now.

read below or on AO3

The loss of a parent connected you and Conrad before you’d truly gotten to know him. Your dad passed when you were six years old, taken by a different form of the illness that also left Conrad bereft of his mom. It was something you discovered you had in common very early on; you even discussed it on your first date. You’d carefully picked your moment to mention that you’d grown up with a single parent—and why.

You dropped it into the conversation as casually as possible, hoping for the best. To your relief, Conrad was kind, listening to your story without the flicker of judgment that you often caught in other people’s eyes, betraying their true feelings when you revealed this fundamental aspect of who you are as a person, who your circumstances have forced you to become.

In the past, you’d received reactions to the information about your upbringing that had made your heart sink. Where you grew up, it wasn’t standard for people to have an unconventional family set-up. But instead of reacting badly, Conrad let you speak; let you explain without interruptions, and never appeared to be negatively affected by the revelation. Then he told you he understood what you’d been through, to a certain degree, and you realised that he was different from anyone you’d ever dated.

Of course, he’d had longer with Susannah—his mom—than you were afforded with your dad. Conrad was essentially an adult when she died. But, in truth, that didn’t matter. Your grief was comparable enough that a bond was forged between you, despite having only begun chatting properly a week earlier, after running into one another a few times in your favourite campus cafe.

Even when his mom was still alive, Conrad had felt the absence of his dad, who he’d described at the time as cold and dismissive. You’d since confirmed that assessment for yourself. So Conrad did get it, and it helped you understand one another’s occasional dips into melancholy as your relationship progressed. After your first date, you couldn’t stop spending time together, even though you were both busy taking the first steps forward into your chosen careers.

Conrad aimed to become a doctor, and you were studying law. That was four years ago, and you’d both graduated and found jobs you were happy with. It was a tiring life, but you were content together in your cosy little apartment. In fact, you’d reached the stage within the last year where you’d been seriously thinking about what your future would look like… and whether or not that future was together.

You weren’t the type to hint about that kind of thing. One random Tuesday night, you decided to ask Conrad outright. You were cuddled together on the couch and had just finished a less-than-memorable movie that barely held your wandering attention.

“Do you see us getting married someday?” you asked. “I mean, is that something you ever think about?”

He smiled shyly and sipped his glass of water. He’d grown his hair a little longer than usual. Some of it fell over his eyes as he nodded with a cute little dip of the head.

“I think about that a lot, actually.”

He didn’t elaborate, so you left it there. You knew Conrad well enough to appreciate that he didn’t like to be pushed into things. And then, six months ago at Christmas, you’d had the strangest feeling that he would propose to you. A passing comment from your mom during dinner about how your dad would have loved to have Conrad as a son-in-law added fuel to the already flickering fire. But nothing came of it.

You almost went so far as to scroll through his email inbox, itching to check for a ring receipt, but you stopped yourself. You knew he wouldn’t have minded, but you didn’t want to become someone who would invade their partner’s privacy. So you’ve been waiting. It’s finally summer and time for your annual visit to Conrad’s beach house. You’re staying there for a week before you both travel back to your mom’s to attend a small family gathering. You do this yearly in late June to commemorate your dad’s passing.

Conrad shares the beach house with his brother and his mom’s best friend, Laurel, along with Laurel’s kids, Steven and Isabel. You don’t know them very well. In the years you and Conrad have been together, you’ve only met them once or twice in passing. There’s tension there, especially with Isabel, or rather Belly—the youngest. Not only was she Conrad’s first love, but she was also briefly engaged to his younger brother, Jeremiah. They were almost married, but it ended in tears, largely due to Conrad’s self-confessed interference. The two families are still dealing with some trauma around it all, and it sometimes feels to you as though the cracks have been hastily papered over.

Despite all that, Laurel has always been kind to you. You can sense how much she loves Conrad and how she just wants him to be happy. And yet, you don’t know when you’ll see her next. Conrad has his week at the Cousins house, and everyone generally leaves him and you to it. Conrad is fine with his brother, but Jeremiah keeps busy and has an active social life. Conrad once commented that his little brother will never settle down—he’s too restless. As for Belly, she doesn’t even live in the country. She’s currently in Paris, as far as you’re aware. And that suits you fine, if you’re being honest with yourself.

It’s not that you feel threatened by her, but you try to acknowledge that most people view their first love in a certain light. Conrad feels everything deeply, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he still holds a little fondness for Belly. That’s fine, only because Conrad has sworn that he learned his lesson. Belly and he are bad for one another. You believe it— you can tell by the way he talks about it all that she hurt him deeply. And in fairness to Belly, he admits to having hurt her, too. Above all, they’re both old enough now to have realised that sometimes love just isn’t enough to make a situation work.

It’s early evening as you and Conrad pull into the driveway of the summer house. Suddenly, your stomach flips, your anxiety stoked by the car sitting at the head of the drive, just in front of the house. What if it’s Belly? As much as you’ve accepted her past with Conrad, you don’t necessarily want to spend time with her, especially when you haven’t prepared yourself to do so.

“Who else is here?” you ask. You dislike the fraught tone of your voice, but you couldn’t have covered it up. “You didn’t tell me we wouldn’t be alone.”

Conrad shakes his head, frowning. “No, I didn’t know we wouldn’t. Nobody said anything to me.” He peers at the license plate of the vehicle parked ahead of you. “I don’t recognise the car.”

He brakes and turns in his seat to look at you. “Are you okay? You seem—”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you rush to say. You don’t want to admit it, but you’re terrified that Belly is here. You’re not even sure why the thought scares you so much, but it does. You force yourself to smile. “Whoever it is can’t be planning to stay, right? Everyone knows it’s your week?”

“Yeah, I mean, they’re supposed to,” Conrad agrees. He reaches for your hand and squeezes it. “Don’t worry, kay?”

You nod but say nothing. As you’re exiting the car, you hear the front door of the house creak open. Footfalls on the steps indicate that whoever was inside is coming down to say hello. You take a deep breath, plaster on a grin, and raise your head. You immediately lock eyes with Belly, and she falters. She looks the same as always, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders in a way that you try to admire rather than covet.

“Oh, hey!” she calls to you, recovering quickly. She takes a few steps forward. “Long time no see.”

“It’s you,” Conrad utters to her, cutting you off before you get a word out. There’s uncertainty in his voice, but he tries to mask it with shaky laughter.

You watch as Belly takes him in, her eyes wide. She folds her arms across her middle protectively. You can see that she’s feeling vulnerable, and you experience a pang of guilt. Although you don’t see yourself and Conrad as particularly threatening, Belly is clearly uncomfortable. Perhaps she wasn’t expecting you. According to Conrad, they’re on okay terms now, despite all the complicated history. Then again, he hasn’t exactly offered her a warm greeting.

“I’m sorry,” she begins. “I’ve totally messed up. I thought Steven was here this week. I was going to surprise him.”

“He’s next week,” Conrad smiles politely. Then, after a pause, he says, “I didn’t know you were back.”

Belly shrugs. “Just for summer.”

They observe each other in silence for several seconds. You’re frozen, feeling as though you’re intruding on the stilted reunion. Then, thankfully, Conrad breaks the tension.

“Well, uh, we’ve had this week planned for a while. Do you have somewhere else to stay?”

“No, wait,” you begin. “Belly, you can stay here. I don’t want to kick you out of your own house.”

She angles her body towards you, and her expression reveals her gratitude. “Please, I’m the one intruding. Of course, I can figure something out.”

You’re already shaking your head. Despite everything, it doesn’t feel right to ask her to go. “Honestly, stay. It’ll be fine.”

Belly pulls her phone from her pocket, checking the time. “It is kinda late for me to find somewhere now, but I’ll only stay for tonight. I’m out of here first thing in the morning.” She looks back at Conrad. “Is that okay?”

He raises one shoulder in an attempt to seem nonchalant. “I guess.”

“Okay, uh… I’m going to head out—grab myself dinner. I’ll be back later. Enjoy your evening, guys.”

With that, Belly makes a somewhat awkward exit. You gather your things from the car and head inside, leaving Conrad to follow you to his room with most of the luggage. You watch him deposit bags onto the bed from your spot in the chair by his dresser. You hope he’s not upset with you.

“I thought it’d be best to let her stay,” you say quietly, looking up at him.

“No, I know. I just… It’s unexpected. I don’t like surprises.”

You stand and shuffle towards him, wrapping your arms around his body. You feel the soft cotton of his shirt on your cheek as you press your head against him. His chin comes to rest on top of your head, and his arms encircle you, holding you tight.

“I know you don’t,” you say.

He sighs, leaning a little heavier on you.

“You’re so heavy! Can we lie down?” you request with a chuckle.

He grabs you by the hand and falls onto the bed, sending bags bouncing in all directions. He pulls you down and proceeds to enclose you in another bear hug.

“You’re going to fall asleep,” you mumble. “I’ll never get away.”

Conrad yawns. You know for a fact he’s gearing up for a nap, which he’ll only regret when he can’t sleep later on.

“We should have something to eat,” you suggest.

“What do you want?” he asks.

You yawn as well, hopeless to suppress it. “I have absolutely no idea.”

In the end, you settle for staying in the bedroom, picking at the snack bag you brought with you for the car journey. Conrad isn’t much of a snacker, but he occasionally partakes. With a handful of Doritos, he looks across the bed at you and smiles.

“I’m glad we’re here.”

“Me too,” you reply. “Don’t make crumbs.”

He begins to laugh. He’s about to say something when you hear the sound of the front door opening downstairs. Belly must be back.

“I’m sorry this hasn’t gone to plan,” Conrad says.

“It’s just one night,” you reassure him.

For some reason, he looks particularly sad. You don’t want to push him to talk. Instead, you reach across, brushing his hair away from his face.

“I love you,” you tell him.

He puts his chips back in the bag, then licks his fingers in a way that he definitely didn’t intend to seem seductive. However, you can’t help but enjoy a little thrill. He somehow manages to make the most mundane things attractive.

“I love you too,” he replies.

When he kisses you, all of your tension eases, the stress from earlier in the day seeming to melt away. And then, you remember that Belly is here. You tense up and pull back.

Conrad looks as uncomfortable as you feel. “This isn’t happening tonight, is it?”

Your laughter is genuine, if a little strained. “I don’t think so. I’m sorry.”

“No, I totally get it,” Conrad replies. “Trust me.”

“Okay,” you say. You peck him quickly on the cheek. “I’m going to shower.”

When you return, Conrad is grabbing his towel. “Back in five,” he says.

You dry off and put on your pyjamas while casting about to determine whether or not Conrad has a hairbrush on his dresser or nightstand. You don’t see one, so you go in search of your own. You don’t remember exactly where you packed it, but get down onto your hands and knees, unzipping the first of the bags that fell when you and Conrad jumped on the bed earlier. You’re rummaging through the contents when your hand brushes against an unfamiliar texture. It’s soft, velvety.

Your heart beats faster as your fingers close around a box. A ring box. You tuck it into the sleeve of your pyjama shirt without looking at it, and sit down heavily on the bed. That’s how Conrad finds you when he returns a few minutes later. He rushes straight to your side, even though he’s dripping wet, and kneels beside you.

“What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

You stare at him and extend your arm, pulling back your sleeve with your empty hand. You and Conrad both look down at the ring box at the same time.

“Ah,” he breathes. “You found it.”

You nod slowly. “I couldn’t find my hairbrush.”

“This wasn’t what I’d planned… at all.”

“I guess nothing is going to plan these days,” you respond quietly.

“Are you upset?” Conrad asks, his brows knitting together.

“No!” you hurry to reassure him. “I just… this isn’t what I’d imagined. I didn’t think…” You sigh, “I didn’t think Belly would be here.”

Conrad’s eyes widen, and he stares off into space. “Me either.” He gives himself a little shake. “I wish you hadn’t found it,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

All of a sudden, you feel dizzy. What is he saying? Has he changed his mind about proposing? Is it because of Belly?

He focuses, his eyes fixing on you. “I was going to wait. Your mom asked me to. When I told her I was going to propose this week, she suggested I hold off. She thought it might be nice if I did it at your dad’s memorial.”

You feel a pain in your chest at the mention of your dad, but your eyes fill with tears of relief. It’s perfect, really. You’re reminded of how well your mom knows you; she knows how meaningful it will be to have your dad be part of such a pivotal moment in your life, especially as he will never get to join you for your wedding.

Conrad looks concerned. He reaches out to thumb away your tears. “Did we get it wrong?”

You shake your head profusely. “No! Not at all.” You hand him the small blue box. “You should probably pack this away again, so you can do what my mom suggested. It’s really thoughtful.” You smile at him, and a laugh escapes you. “I thought you were going to tell me you’d decided not to ask after seeing Belly.”

Instead of laughing, as you expected he would, Conrad appears alarmed at the thought. “No. Belly was my best friend for so long. And we tried so hard to love each other the way we thought we were supposed to—the way my mom probably hoped we would.” He pushes his hair back, sighing. “But something always felt… off. There was Jere, and it just hurt too much. It always felt like a push and pull between the three of us. It’s not love if you have to fight that hard just to feel okay. It’s not supposed to be painful all the time.”

“No, it’s not,” you agree.

Conrad gazes at you. “When I met you, I finally understood what it’s supposed to feel like, without all the mixed messages and the confusion, or expectations that can never be met. Love is about acceptance and understanding. You and I have always had that.”

“And we always will.”

You throw your arms around his neck, not caring that his hair is still damp. Eventually, he stands, pulling you gently to your feet. When he turns you towards the bed, you try to forget that Belly is still in the house, but you can’t. As soon as Conrad speaks, it’s as if he’s read your mind.

“We should get some sleep. It’s been a full-on day.”

Your heart swells with love for him, and with appreciation for his ability to read you so well. “Sleep is exactly what I need.”

[written-in-ishq]

love's reckoning | conrad fisher (m)

⟡ pairing : conrad fisher x fem!reader

⟡ summary : years after that kiss by the pool at susannah's beach house, you and conrad return back to cousins to a surprise engagement and a surprising turn of events which includes unrequited feelings from the bride to be.

⟡ warnings : belly being belly [insufferable] she really needs to get a grip, fluff, smut, 18+ mdni, p in v (doggy style) oral (m receiving) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

⟡ wc : 16.7k [yuppp]

⟡ a/n : hello besties! ❤️ thank you for all the love you all have been giving to my fics, thank you, i love you all so much. ♥️ im back with a new fic and im very excited to share it with you all. love by design and the heart pact will be updated asap, i love you all 🫶💖 happy reading, do like, reblog and leave your precious feedback. 🥰

》 Masterlist

》 could be read alone and also as a second part to, delicate | conrad fisher

A lot has changed since you and Conrad confessed your feelings for each other and shared a kiss under the twinkling night sky by the pool at Susannah's beach house in Cousins.

For starters, your boyfriend successfully transferred to Stanford where you already were studying literature and continued with his medical studies, you both graduated at the top of your class with straight A's in every semester. After majoring in Literature, you pursued journalism while Conrad pursued further studies in medicine.

Life never ever prepares you for adulthood, you and Conrad weren't the kids chasing each other in your beach home's garden anymore or the teenagers dancing in the sand on a ridiculous song Steven played from his phone under the summer night sky but rather two adults in a fully committed relationship with their own academic and career goals.

Nobody said it would be easy, it wasn't easy and there were days where you and Conrad barely saw each other but there were also days where you both spent the whole day in bed, together, days when you would wake up pleasantly sore from the night before shenanigans and Conrad would be in the kitchen, shirtless, in just a pair of his grey sweats (the pair that makes you absolutely feral) making breakfast.

He turns at the sound of your footsteps, his bare skin glowing from the soft sunlight seeping in through the windows, his blue-green eyes looking at you with unbridled warmth and love, soft, wispy locks of hair fall on his forehead as he smiles, spatula in hand.

“Morning, sleepy head. Breakfast will be served in five minutes, your coffee is on the table, just the way you like it. Do you want blueberries, chocochips or both on your pancakes, love?”

You close your eyes, committing the beautiful moment of the love of your life bathed in the morning light to memory before running into his arms to kiss the living daylights out of him.

Conrad laughs as he catches you then sits you down at the kitchen counter, moving to stand between your legs and kisses you back with equal fervor.

Days where you both got dressed to the nines for a date night, days where you and Conrad curled up on the couch after a tiring day watching a romcom with snacks and hot chocolate or rather making out on the couch, the movie forgotten, as it plays in the background.

The proposal came two years later during Christmas week when you were on the verge of finishing your internship, rather a very successful internship at San Francisco Chronicle after which you were sure to be offered a position at the prestigious newspaper and so was Conrad at a research lab through Stanford School Of Medicine.

You and Conrad had come out for Christmas tree shopping and once it was chosen, you both decided to check out the ornaments and other home decor for the festivities. Chewing on a candy cane, you had turned around to ask your boyfriend's opinion on some cute fairy tree ornaments you had found, when the tree you both had chosen lit up an ornament that spelled out the question, “will you marry me?” and right in front of it was Conrad, down on one knee and holding the most beautiful ring you've ever witnessed.

The candy cane falls off from the side of your lips as you stand there at a loss for words, awestruck and amazed, your heart drumming loudly against your chest.

Then the tears fall.

“Yes! Yes, a million times yes! In every lifetime, I will marry you, Conrad Fisher.” You can barely speak above your tears, but your words are crystal clear and firm even though your voice is shaking.

Tears fall down his cheeks too as Conrad slips the beautiful infinity solitaire on your ring finger, kisses the back of your hand before he stands and your lips meet in a kiss so passionate and lingering that it has you both reeling in the aftermath.

But the surprise doesn't end there, a sleigh is waiting outside for you and your fiancé to whisk you both away to your and Conrad's favorite bakery in town, just two short blocks away.

On New Year's eve, when you both arrive at Conklin's residence for the celebratory dinner that Laurel hosts every year, Conrad entwines his fingers with yours, giving your hand a gentle, supportive squeeze as you take a deep breath.

“I love you.” He smiles, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“I love you too.” You smile as you steal another kiss from his lips before Conrad knocks on the door.

As the first course is done away with, you take a deep breath, preparing to break the happy news to everyone present, the fishers, the conklins and your family.

Conrad's hand finds yours again as he smiles at you and nods reassuringly.

“Now that everyone's here, Conrad and I would like to share something. There's been a little personal development.. We are engaged.” You let it out in one breath but pale when you look around the table as everyone is too stunned to speak.

“Oh. My. GODDDDDDDDDD!!!” Your sister squeals jumping up from her seat, They are engaged, this is not a drill, people! THEY ARE ENGAGED!!!!”

“Little? You call this a little personal development??!!! Girl, this is huge! Congratulations, you two!!” Taylor stands up to hug you and Conrad, “the way we all knew that you two will always be the end game, I even predicted that you and Conrad will be the first to tie the knot from our squad. I'm so happy for you both.”

Your sister barrels towards you to sweep you in a hug and then almost knocks Conrad off as she hugs him next.

“So you're gonna tell your kids that I, their beloved aunt, was the catalyst responsible for their parents’ beautiful love story, right? Because if it wasn't for me, you both would've still kept each other in the friend-zone.” Your sister speaks, looking immensely proud of herself.

“Is that so?” Conrad raises an eyebrow, amused.

“Yes, Future brother in law.” Your sister nods, playfully bumping her shoulder with his.

Steven, Jeremiah, Belly and Laurel hug you both, offering congratulations as well.

However, your parents have bright knowing smiles on their faces as they lovingly embrace you and Conrad, almost like they knew this was going to happen.

“What's that smile for?” You ask, amused.

“What? We are just very happy for you and Conrad.” Your mom smiles innocently, but you are not buying that, nope.

“Mom, you DO know that you practically suck at lying right? Even now, it's written all over your face.”

Your fiancé clasps a hand over his mouth, trying to hide his smile as you look at him and then back to your mom who looks sheepishly between you, your dad and your sister.

“It's okay honey, she'll know anyway.” Your dad lovingly wraps an arm around her shoulder, laughing as well.

“Well..” Your mother says, “We knew that Conrad was gonna propose to you during the holidays. He called us a week before the proposal to seek our blessings.”

Your dad nods in agreement, smiling.

“So you both were in on it from the beginning, glad I didn't know, I love me some happy surprises.” Your sister adds.

“I would've never proposed to you without your parents’ blessings, I know how much they mean to you and your sister and they are my family too.” Conrad speaks, gently taking your hand in his.

“How could we not?” Your mother lovingly caresses his forehead, “We've always known that you were the one for her, remember the summer when you both were 16 and she had dislocated her shoulder after that fall from the tree? At the hospital she wouldn't let any of us near her except Conrad, when the doctor was treating her, she held his hand throughout, so tightly that she had scratched his hand owing to the pain from the closed reduction procedure and those scratches were bleeding but he did not pull back from her grip. We have always known that you both shared something special, something more than friendship but at that moment we knew that maybe, these two kids are meant to be together and not just us, Susannah felt the same and so does Laurel.”

“Which is why when Conrad asked for our blessings, we didn't think twice. You both are meant to be together and we couldn't be happier.” Your dad speaks this time.

You blink back your tears, looking up at Conrad, “thank you.” you mumble.

He shakes his head, smiling, soft locks of hair falling in his eyes as he kisses the side of your forehead, “I know you would've done the same for me.”

Your gaze falls on Belly when your mom is hugging you and Conrad, nursing a drink in her hand, she looks at your fiancé who is completely oblivious and then she looks at your engagement ring which sparkles beautifully in the soft lighting.

And for the first time in so many years, you notice jealousy in her gaze??

But why?

Are Jeremiah and Her not happy in their relationship? Is she expecting him to pop the question as well? Aren't they too young for that though? Laurel would never approve to begin with.

“So when is the wedding?” Steven asks and that brings Belly back to reality as she looks up at you, plastering a smile.

Too bad, you can see right through it.

“We aren't rushing into getting married.” Conrad answers as he pulls you in his arms, “We've decided that we'll both finish our internships first, get our jobs and then start house hunting. Once that is finalized and we put in the down payment, we'll announce the date.”

Another year later, you and Conrad get married in Cousins at Susannah's beach house, the place where it all began in a beautiful, private ceremony.

You wore your mother's wedding dress, vintage, classic and timeless with your and Conrad's initials embroidered into the delicate lace.

Conrad stood patiently as Steven fixed with bowtie, his back facing you but turned around as soon as Perfect started playing. With tears in his eyes, he watched you walk down the aisle with your dad ~ his best friend, the love of his life, his soulmate and now his wife.

“You are so so beautiful, my love, I am the luckiest man in the whole world.” He whispers as you come to stand in front of him.

“And so are you, my beautiful Connie, I am the luckiest woman in the whole world.” You reply, tears in your eyes too as the officiant starts speaking.

The vows you and Conrad spoke for each other not only had you both sobbing but everyone present as well, you could hear your sister, who's also your maid of honor, crying but also complaining to Taylor about how she was scammed into buying this mascara which claimed to be waterproof but clearly isn't, making you chuckle amidst tears.

When the officiant announces you husband and wife, Conrad pulls you closer, dips you in his arms and then kisses you. Laughing, you loop your arms around his neck as you reciprocate amidst a beautiful shower of flowers and the cheers of your family and loved ones.

Reception was by the beach, for the occasion you had changed into a more relaxing champagne silk gown which flowed beautifully and effortlessly as you danced with your husband in the sand just like you both did when you were teenagers.

Life had truly come full circle.

Who would've thought that the boy you had met when you first came to Cousins, the boy you first befriended when you started visiting Cousins every summer, the boy you had your very first crush on which then beautifully evolved into something deeper, your best friend, your first love, your Connie will be your soulmate and now your husband, Conrad Beck Fisher.

One summer, another four years later, everyone is back to where it all started, cousins ~ for your mother in law, Susannah's dedication ceremony as the beach house is now owned by Conrad.

The rush of nostalgia and happiness that envelopes everyone as you all greet each other with joy and unshed tears.

Belly and Jeremiah are together, navigating their college life together at Finch, Steven is working at a finance firm, Breaker, headed by Mr. Fisher, your sister is studying fashion designing at Fashion Institute Of Technology in New York.

You and Conrad are thriving at your jobs at the San Francisco Chronicle and the Stanford Hospital, respectively but were also in need for some unwinding, it's been way too long since your last holiday as a couple and what's better than Cousins to have the perfect summer of your lives, which is why you both have taken some time off work to reset and refresh.

Taylor and Steven decided to end their on-off relationship, she got an amazing opportunity to study abroad, took it and moved to Australia.

Also, in a very surprising turn of events, your sister and Steven are now together.

Last Christmas, they had visited you and Conrad in San Francisco, you remember dropping your fork in surprise during the christmas dinner when Steven and your sister told you both about them.

Apparently, it all started after Taylor and Steven ended things and the former moved to Australia, he and your sister began texting each other, back and forth, met a few times in person, unlike how they've always had in the circle of family and friends, started liking each other and decided to give it a shot.

You smile as you watch your sister animatedly narrate something to Steven like she always does while he watches her endearingly with his arms around her, stealing kisses in between and making her blush. They've been together for almost a year now, Taylor knows and is okay with it, in fact she's been seeing someone too.

After the heartfelt ceremony, the group heads to the restaurant for lunch.

Conrad and you catch each other's eyes as Laurel says that she'll be paying for the meal, across the table, your parents, Steven and your sister look at each other too, a silent conversation and agreement.

Conrad orders the salmon, you and your sister order the veggie cheese sandwich and fries combo, your parents and Steven choose affordable meal options from the menu too but Adam Fisher and Jeremiah get high-handed and order the seafood tower for themselves, also for Belly who initially wanted to order the tomato bisque.

The look your husband shoots his father and his brother is downright cold as Fisher senior and Jere place their order and honestly, you were disappointed too but reaching out for Conrad's hand, you squeeze it gently, not wanting to ruin a precious day in Susannah's memory with fights and arguments within the family.

The servers pour champagne in glasses for toasts but you refuse politely as Laurel looks up at you, concerned.

“Sweetheart, are you alright? I know it's too hot outside, are you feeling lightheaded?”

“No, I'm completely fine. It's just.. It's just that.. um, Conrad and I are trying for a baby so we're both avoiding anything alcoholic for now.” You speak, your eyes shy and your cheeks flushed.

Conrad politely refuses the champagne as well, entwining his fingers with yours.

A wave of happiness rushes through the whole table.

“MY MAN!” Steven is the first to jump up as he and Conrad fist bump and then wiggle their fingers, your sister rolls her eyes but then walks around the table to hug you and her brother in law.

“So you both are naming your first born after me, right?” She speaks up as you both look at her, amused.

“Hurricane isn't the ideal name for a baby though.” Conrad adds only to yelp as he gets elbowed in the stomach by her.

“My babies are trying for a baby.” Your mother speaks, eyes sparkling with joy as she embraces you and your husband.

There it is again.

That strange look of jealousy as Belly looks at Conrad, who's oblivious as he's talking to your father.

You didn't pay much heed to it because too much was happening around you all at once but even during the ceremony and now at the restaurant, she kept looking at you and Conrad with that silent fire of jealousy in her gaze.

But why? Isn't she happy in her relationship? She chose Jeremiah, then why? trouble in paradise?

Thoughts swirl in your head as you accept hugs and wishes from everyone.

After the toasts, the conversation around the table shifted to what everyone has been doing in their lives, personally and professionally, not to mention, the not so subtle jabs Adam takes at Jeremiah which probably pushes Belly to her breaking point as she gulps her champagne in one go and places the glass on the table a little too loudly, making you all look at her as she sits up straighter in her seat.

“Jere actually has really big plans for his future too.” She speaks, looking at her boyfriend as she places a hand on his arm.

“Belly, you don't.. you don't have to.” Jeremiah replies as he looks at her, slightly unsure but she nods, turning to talk to everyone at the table.

“He and I, I should say, uh…” Belly rests their entwined hands on the table before continuing, “We're getting married!” She and Jeremiah look at each other, all smiles and then back at everyone present.

“In August.” Belly adds, still smiling wide.

The whole table is silent, except for the quiet hum of the conversation of the other diners in the background.

Adam looks amused.

Laurel and Steven break the silence with awkward laughs.

“I'm sorry, what?” Laurel asks, looking between Belly and Jeremiah, “Is this a joke?”

“No.”

“No.”

To be very honest, Laurel's reaction is your initial reaction to the news too, but you chose to be quiet because the conversation is between a mother and her daughter, you'll speak at your own time.

“Aren't they too young to be doing this?” Conrad whispers, leaning in.

“I know right? And wasn't Belly supposed to go to Paris?” You reply as your husband shrugs, “Dunno, I've been quite out of loop these days as my wife has been keeping me busy in the bedroom.”

Very sensually, he drags a finger up the bare skin of your arm, the mere brush of skin making you shiver as you exhale shakily, gently pushing his hand away.

“Connie, not here!” You warn him quietly.

“No?” Laurel asks.

“No.” Belly responds.

Steven looks between his mom, his sister and Jeremiah while Laurel looks at her son and then at Adam when he starts speaking.

“Jesus Christ! It's what I'm talking about with responsibility, What did you drag her into?” Adam asks Jere, clearly furious.

Belly and Jeremiah both look appalled.

“What are you talking about? I'm not dragging her into anything.” Jeremiah answers, equally furious.

“Woahhh, are you being serious right now?” Steven finally asks.

“Yes!” The couple answers together.

“You guys are not ready for this!” Laurel adds as she, Belly, Steven, Adam and Jeremiah erupt into arguments.

You, Conrad, your parents and your sister decide on remaining quiet.

“This wasn't the response they got when she and Conrad announced that they were getting married!!” Belly points over to you and Conrad as she leans forward on the table towards her mother.

“Are you seriously comparing yourself to them? They were in a relationship for years before getting engaged, they moved in together first, navigated through their studies and their careers, they got engaged at the end of their successful internships and unlike you both, didn't rush into marriage, secured their jobs, secured their home and then tied the knot, now they're securing their future and planning for a baby, that's how things should be done!” Laurel explains patiently as Belly rolls her eyes.

“You guys aren't ready, Why? Why would you do this?” Laurel adds, agitation clear in her tone as her daughter isn't ready to understand her point.

“Obviously, she's pregnant.” Adam looks at Laurel as if he connected the dots.

The unexpected answer makes you choke on your drink of water as you almost spit it out, Conrad rubs soothing circles over your back as you cough and then lovingly wipes off the drops of water from your chin and lips with his hand.

“Are you pregnant? How many times did we discuss contraception?” Laurel Park looks downright furious now.

Belly gasps in shock before speaking, “I'm not pregnant!!”

“Well I swear, that is.. that is not the case.” Jeremiah intervenes.

“Well, what about Paris?”

“I'm still going!”

“Isabella, I cannot… this is…” Laurel tries but Steven speaks up first.

“Wild!”

“Insane. Delusional.”

“Look, we love each other, we want to be together.” Jeremiah tries to convince Laurel and Steven.

“You are together! If you want to take the next step, move in together, foster a cat! Why rush to get married??!!” Laurel asks.

“Because I– I love him! And because he's my family, and– and– that's what Susannah's always said, right? Family is THE most important thing?!” Belly replies, looking at everyone around the table.

“I hope you're not thinking you're getting your mother's ring?” Adam Fisher asks, making things 10x worse as Belly and Jeremiah look at him, offended.

“No dad, I didn't expect that from you.” Jeremiah answers, his tone curt.

“We don't need Susannah's ring, Jere got me my own.” Belly speaks as she digs around in her handbag.

“With what money?” There's Adam Fisher with his taunts again.

“With my own!” Jeremiah snaps back.

Conrad looks like he's about to take your hand and walk out of the restaurant at any moment.

Belly by that time has found her ring, wears it and then holds up her hand for her mother and for everyone else to see.

You had to squint to see the ring on her finger with the tiniest diamond ever and honestly, Jeremiah could have opted for a simple gold band - beautiful, affordable and much much better than the sliver of a tin foil, he proposed Belly with.

“I cannot believe this is happening right now.” Laurel says in disbelief, all color draining from her face.

“Holyyyy Shit!” Steven curses.

“Can you shut up?” Belly snaps at him.

“No, this is crazy!”

“Shut up!”

“This is crazy!”

“What is your problem?”

“Steven.” Jeremiah is addressing his fiancée’s brother who instead turns to look at you and Conrad.

“Did you two know about this?” He asks.

You shake your head in negative while Conrad responds in a simple, “No.”

Steven is about to say something more but your sister reaches for his hand on time, shaking her head in a discreet no, he nods, then sits back in his seat, entwining their fingers and resting their joined hands on his thigh.

The table falls into silence once again as the food comes in, but this silence isn't comforting at all, rather suffocating.

It's here you decide to speak up, finally.

“Okay, let's all just take a step back and take a deep breath. I know everyone has their own opinions but we should celebrate the happy news Belly and Jeremiah have given us and congratulate the engaged couple.” You look over at the couple, while Jeremiah seems relieved that you have stepped in and gives you a small smile, Belly still continues to look the other way like a petulant child.

“And let's not compare, please.” You add, “Every couple has their own journey, their own trials and tribulations and their own pace. If Belly and Jeremiah want to get married in August, I say we should support them, be civil and try to get along with each other. Right, Connie?” You look at your husband, expectantly.

Your husband, Conrad Fisher blinks, once then twice realizing that he's been spoken to, the haze clears from his ocean blue eyes as his hungry gaze drops down to your lips, stays there for a good few moments and then.. he gulps.

In broad daylight.

In front of a table full of friends and family who are definitely watching.

Conrad Fisher wants you, he wants you so bad.

Steven snickers, then clears his throat amused.

“Conrad.” You call him, shaking him gently which seems to bring him back from his steamy daydreams about you.

“What? Yeah.. yeah. I hear you and I agree but also Laurel is right, it's ridiculously early for them to get married, Belly should at least complete her education first.” He speaks, taking a sip from his glass of water.

Jeremiah stares at him for a few seconds as if he expected an answer along these lines from him.

Gee, thanks so much, big bro.”

“Just being honest, little bro.”

You are about to intervene before the conversation gets heated when a server comes in and you're thankful for the interruption.

“The seafood tower.” The server announces as he keeps a three tiered stand filled with fresh seafood on the table.

“Actually, there has been a change in plans. Cancel everything, I'll take the check.” Laurel tells the server who nods and leaves.

“Are you serious?” Belly snaps.

“Yes, I am very serious!” Laurel snaps back, the edge in her tone very prominent.

“Fine. Let's go Jere.” Belly speaks as she gets up and leaves with Jeremiah, arm in arm.

Steven looks at his mom, worried, while Laurel lets out a tired sigh.

Before long, everyone leaves. You and Conrad drive back to the beach house, your parents, your sister and Steven drive back to your family's beach house as that is their abode for the summer.

While you and Conrad had the whole beach house to yourself, your sister and Steven keep coming and going as the distance between the two is just a few steps.

As soon as you step into the beach house, it's as if you're transported back in time, back to the summers where you and Conrad would run in circles in the kitchen around Susannah when you both were little as she made your favorite snack, her famous grilled cheese sandwich which you and Conrad had agreed on to be the best grilled cheese sandwich in the whole world.

Back to the summers when you both were teenagers and you had short circuited for a good five minutes on seeing Conrad shirtless, wet locks of hair sticking to his forehead when he padded into the kitchen after surfing with his brother.

Back to the summers when at your Deb Ball, Conrad was your escort, you've always wondered how would it feel, to dance with your prince, the man you're truly fated to be with, wearing a beautiful dress in a ball room full of people but he only has eyes for you and you only have eyes for him? And that night at the ball when you and Conrad danced together, you understood what those romance movies and novels talked about.

You smile as two strong arms wrap around you, his lips dropping softest kisses on your shoulder.

Turning around in his arms, you loop your arms around his neck, brushing your lips against his for a sweet peck.

“So, that was something.” You say.

“Yeah it was, I'm glad that's all over.” He replies, “Sitting there and watching Belly dropping the news of her and Jere's engagement out of nowhere, then everyone reacting to it was like watching a train-wreck in slow motion.”

“I'm sorry.” You look up at him, “Today was about Susannah, it was her memorial yet Adam was being insufferable as always, Jeremiah couldn't read the room and stand up for himself while Belly made the day all about herself, announcing her and Jere's engagement, I understand being defensive and protective towards the one you love but it was a terrible idea to feel the need to talk about their engagement on a day that was Susannah's. I'm so sorry for today, for everything.”

“Hey, look at me.” Conrad cups your face in his hands lovingly, “don't be sorry, you are not responsible for any of the drama or chaos at lunch today, to be honest, I was angry and disappointed at the people responsible too but then, sans that mess of a lunch, mom's memorial went exceptionally well, everyone had gathered to treasure her memory and the most important person in my life - you were right there by my side and that's what mom would've wanted too.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You and Conrad stand there in the middle of the living room at the beach house in each other's embrace as nostalgia washes over you both, warm, happy, bittersweet, before you both walk further inside, luggage in tow.

“Babe, I just realized something.” He calls out to you as you walk towards the bedroom.

“What?” You ask, he doesn't reply right away, so you turn to look at him.

“We have the whole house to ourselves.” Conrad speaks, a mischievous glint in his beautiful eyes as he steps closer.

Your cheeks flush crimson as memories wash over you, sexy, steamy, dreamy, passionate ~ well, this beach house has been a witness to one of the most intimate moments of your and Conrad's life.

Four months into your relationship, you and Conrad had gone on a ski trip with your friends during the holidays, while coming back home on the new years eve, you two had bid farewell to your friends who drove off to Stanford and took a detour to Cousins to spend the new years together before heading back to college.

Candles had illuminated the space, bathing the walls in its golden hues as Conrad had kissed you deep and slow, his gentle, patient, steady hands reaching for your coat, while yours had been tugging at the end of his soft cashmere sweater with a cute little C embroidered in a heart near the chest, a gift from you on his birthday.

Once the coat was off, your top was next, a moan slipping past your lips when his hands found your breasts, fingers grazing over the soft pink lace.

“Surprise!” You smile, mumbling between breathless kisses.

“Honestly?” He traces a finger down your stomach to the waistband of your jeans.

Your breath hitches as he pulls you to him through the loops of your denims, thankful that you decided to wear the lingerie set this morning to surprise your boyfriend.

“This is the best christmas gift of my life.” Conrad speaks before he's kissing you again, this time with a desire so raw, you found yourself gasping for air.

“Trust me Connie baby, I know.” You smile, palming his hardness through the fabric of his jeans and the moan slipping past his soft lips is music to your ears.

Conrad chuckles as you yank his sweater off, followed by his shirt, that done, you step back to admire your gorgeous boyfriend, gently running your hands on his bare skin bathed in golden candlelight.

Wispy locks of hair fall on his forehead, his blue eyes with specks of green like two pools of a calm ocean look back at you, blown wide with want, soft pink lips parted slightly as he whispers your name, miles of smooth skin and muscles that flex as he pulls you closer to him, kissing you again and you melt in those strong arms.

You still remember the way he ate you out as if you were his last meal, eyes locked on yours as he made you cum twice on his tongue, you still remember how he felt inside you, very gentle at first as his lips whispered sweet nothings to you between kisses and you had lovingly brushed his hair off his face with your fingers to look into those beautiful eyes, but then with a wild abandon. His name was all you could say over and over.

The storm raged on outside, inside, in the warm cocoon of each other's arms, you and Conrad worshipped each other's bodies and made love till you both were spent, exhausted and sleepy but happy and glowing.

There have been countless passionate intimate encounters after that, but that night at the beach house where you and Conrad made love in the candlelight as the storm raged outside will always and forever have the most special place in your hearts and memories.

You are brought back in the present when wrapping an arm around your waist, Conrad pulls you in his arms.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, tucking a few stray locks of hair behind your ears.

“Hmmm, I noticed that we do have the house to ourselves and I was thinking..” You loop your arms around his neck, “back at the restaurant, what were you thinking about Dr. Fisher? I called you and you were just zoned out.”

“You mean when I was staring at your lips?”

“Uh..” Blushing, you look down, not meeting the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Conrad laughs, then placing his fingers under your chin, he lovingly pulls up your face so that you are looking right into those breathtaking ocean eyes.

“Well, of course I was thinking about you, I was thinking about kissing you and that's just not all, I was thinking about..”

His head dips to your neck, lips placing softest kisses down the column of your throat, “the way you moan so softly when I kiss your neck, especially your pulse, right about here..”

As his lips brush over your pulse, a soft moan escapes your lips.

“the way that cute little moan gets louder and more breath-y when I move lower.”

“Conrad..” You moan breathily and louder this time, throwing your head back as his lips trail down.

“The way you grab my shoulders first when you feel me pulling the straps of your dress down.” He whispers huskily in your ear as his fingers gently pull down the first strap of your dress and then the next, baring your breasts.

You do, you hold onto his shoulders, cheeks flushed crimson, your eyes not meeting Conrad's as his heated gaze rakes over your bare skin.

“The way you sweetly moan, ‘Connie’ at the first lick and then ‘Dr. Fisher’ as I lavish them with love and attention is music to my ears, baby.”

“Connie..” You moan when his tongue wraps around one of your nipples as he licks slow and sweet.

The way things were heating up, You and Conrad definitely won't be making it to the bedroom and will end up having sex in the living area itself. Back home in San Francisco, there isn't a surface where you both haven't fucked tbh, your husband even ate you out once at the Christmas Dinner you both hosted every year while the family and friends were downstairs.

Dr. Conrad Fisher, the love of your life is a man of many talents and an exceptionally amazing doctor.

Lost in each other, you both didn't hear the front door opening and footsteps padding into the living room until a scream shocks you and Conrad.

Steven is standing just a few feet away from you and your husband, looking mortified as he stares at the walls, at the ceiling, at the damn windows but not at you both as you scramble to cover up your half naked state, thankful for your husband’s tall 6’1 frame that towers over everyone, Conrad faces his friend and behind him, you smooth your hands down the front of your dress after pulling the straps securely back up.

“Sorry, I was just.. taken aback that's all.” Steven explains sheepishly, still not looking at you and Conrad. “I came because your sister was asking if you could please lend her the dyson airwrap, we have dinner plans this evening.”

“Sure.” You nod and hand him the hair styler from your travel bag.

As Steven leaves waving awkwardly, you and Conrad wave him back, equally awkward, heaving a collective sigh of relief when the front door finally closes.

“So, where were we? Conrad turns to you after locking the front door, pulling you back in his arms again as his lips brush against yours.

“Dr. Fisher, I think we should take this to the privacy of our bedroom. Then maybe you can tie me up and make me scream your name all night long.” You reply, coyly fiddling with his tie.

“Yes Ma'am.” Conrad effortlessly picks you up in his arms and carries you to the bedroom, locking the door behind him.

Mornings at Cousins have always been your favourite, slow, tranquil and peaceful with the sound of waves crashing against the shore, when you were younger, you cherished the moments where you would sleep in without the need to rush out of the door for school or college, now you cherish the moments where you can sleep in, cuddle with your gorgeous husband whose asleep right next to you and stay in bed the whole day without the need to rush out the door for work.

As if sensing your thoughts, Conrad shifts, his arm now around you, holding you close, his warm, rhythmic breathing brushes against the crook of your neck.

You and Conrad love what you do, you both love working and you both have worked your asses off to be where you both are today, successful in your professions, Journalism and Medicine.

But right now, in this moment, you aren't aren't the senior editor and Conrad isn't Dr. Fisher, but a couple who has been in love with each other since they were kids, a couple who came back to the beloved beach house to spend some romantic quality time together and to try for a baby.

“Connie..” You whisper sweetly, trailing your fingers gently down his chest.

“I know what you're trying to do, baby.” Conrad speaks, his voice deeper and huskier than usual from sleep.

“Is it working?” You ask coyly, shifting closer in his embrace.

“Do you really wanna know?” He looks at you, the soft blue in his eyes reminding you of the ocean right outside the bedroom window.

“I'd rather you show me.”

The sheets slide off his body, bathing Conrad in the soft glow of the morning light and you're immediately transported back in memory to that night in the very same beach house.

The buttoned down shirt you've been sleeping in belongs to Conrad and as if obeying his touch, the fabric falls away, revealing you to the sleepy but raging lust simmering in those ocean eyes. The soft locks of his hair tickle your face as you giggle and so does he, but then he kisses you, his lips soft against your own and all sane, coherent thoughts flee your body except one, Conrad Beck Fisher.

“You're so beautiful.” He hums against your skin, “I love you.”

“I love you more.” You breath hitches, biting back a moan as his lips trail gentle kisses down your neck to your bosom.

“Not possible. I love you more.”

“But I loved you first.”

“Nope, I loved you first.”

You're about to retort to your husband’s argument, but your head falls back on the pillow, your words morphing into a soft moan when Conrad's lips close around your pebbled nipple, his other hand massaging the other breast, gently squeezing the supple flesh.

As his tongue circles around your nipple, his fingers dip down to your heat, Conrad moans at the wet squelch of your juices when he presses a finger in, your walls stretch around him and you cry out his name when he begins to rub at your clit with the pad of his thumb.

“So pretty.” Conrad hums, “All of this for me?” Inserting another finger, he begins pumping them in and out.

“For you, always and forever for you.” You pant as a pleasurable burn ripples throughout your body, you need him inside you and you need him right now.

“Con–”

“I know baby girl, I've got you.”

His thick cock springs free as he tugs off his grey sweats and your mouth waters. Making a mental note to blow him off later in the shower till your mouth memorizes every vein all over again and till his cum overflows from the side of your lips, you watch your husband, the love of your life pumping his length and lining himself up at your entrance.

Conrad teases you a bit, gliding his cock up and down your folds until you look at him, pouting and he laughs, leaning in to kiss you softly, thoroughly endeared by your cuteness as he finally pushes in a bit.

What you were expecting : the delicious stretch of his girth, feeling every inch of him sinking inside you as he bottoms out.

What he was expecting : your warm, wet walls engulfing him, filling you up till his cum drips down your soft thighs.

What you both weren't expecting : a loud thud from the kitchen downstairs.

You and Conrad look at each other, alarmed as no one was supposed to be in the house, the doors were securely locked and only you both had the keys.

After making yourselves presentable, you both reached for the baseball bats near the bed stand and quietly padded downstairs, trying not to make a sound.

Well, you both definitely weren't expecting Belly and Jeremiah in the kitchen, making out against the kitchen counter while the omelette they were trying to make lies forgotten in the pan on the verge of burning and activating the smoke alarm.

Shaking his head, Conrad puts off the stove before the alarm starts blaring throughout the house as the newly engaged couple pull back from each other, sheepishly.

“Hey, Conrad.” Jeremiah looks at his brother, “Sister-in-law.” he inclines his head in a half salute, “pretty great morning, isn't it?”

Before either of you could reply, Belly cuts in, “What are you two doing here? We weren't expecting anyone at the beach house.”

“Ah, figures why you both were careless enough to leave the stove on.” Conrad replies, leaning against the sink.

Your eyes widen comically as you look at your husband then speak before things escalate further, “Everyone knew that we'll be taking some time off work and stay in Cousins for a while. On the contrary, we weren't expecting you and Jere, I thought you both went back.”

“Uh.. things didn't go exactly as planned.” Jeremiah replies, “Belly and I tried to convince Laurel for the wedding but her answer is still no.”

“Mom and I had a huge fight and she refused to attend the wedding calling it a stupid mistake that's killing me.” Belly adds quietly, trying to blink back tears.

You walk over to Belly and put an arm around her shoulder to comfort her.

“Don't worry, I'm sure Laurel will come around, just give her some time.”

“Which is why we drove to Cousins and decided to spend the night here. I have to go back to Boston for work and after considering all the options, we both have decided that Belly should stay here, in Cousins. You and Conrad, who is also my co-best man, can help her with wedding errands.” Jeremiah looks between the two of you with a bright smile and Conrad doesn't look like he wants to.

“Well, let's get started with breakfast first and then we'll see.” Conrad replies and holding your hand walks out of the kitchen.

“I'll be honest, I'm not a fan of this whole situation.” Once upstairs, Conrad voices out his thoughts.

“Neither am I, but Belly is very upset, the fight with Laurel and her harsh words have broken her heart. I couldn't even imagine how it would've been if my mom didn't support our wedding.” You sit down beside him on the bed as Conrad nods thoughtfully.

“And it's only a matter of a few weeks, then we'll go back to California and maybe Laurel too, will come around.”

“Okay.” Conrad agrees, pulling you in the sanctuary of his arms, “now where were we?” He kisses you once, then twice.

“Weren't you going to make breakfast?” You ask as his lips drop softest kisses along your neck, making you smile.

“I still have a few minutes and I intend to make them count, my beautiful wife.” He whispers against your skin before his skillful fingers pull down your shorts, then his mouth latches on your clit and you're gripping his soft hair, moaning his name out loud as your husband devours you.

Deciding to spend the day by the pool, you are contemplating your swimwear, while your sister and Belly are getting ready, it's been a few days since Jere left for Boston and you haven't seen your husband since breakfast. After finishing his meal, Conrad had excused himself for some errands but not before kissing you with an intensity that had you craving for him, alighting a slow fire in your body that ached for his touches and kisses.

You and Conrad have been seeing an ob-gyn back in California and it was her suggestion that you both take some time off work and your packed schedules to spend a few weeks together with some peace and quiet with zero interruptions and keep trying to get pregnant.

In simple words, you wanted to get fucked by your husband and you wanted to get fucked, hard.

When you pull out the sexy yet cute cherry print bikini from the wardrobe, your sister raises her eyebrows mischievously then gives you a double thumbs up.

“Conrad won't know what hit him!” Your sister winks as she helps you tie your bikini.

“Well, I really want him to hit that spot, soooo…”

“Too much information!” Your sister covers her ears, making you laugh.

As you brush your hair, intending to put it up and away from your face with a claw clip, you gaze falls on Belly through the mirror and you find her staring at you, her features clouded in jealousy, her palm fisted in the comforter of the bed she is sitting on, though she relaxes when she notices you and even forces a smile, but something about it unsettles you a bit.

Stepping out by the poolside, you close your eyes for a bit and breathe in deeply, doing a little turn in the familiar, beloved surroundings, every little nook and corner of the beach home brings back a whole rush of nostalgia and memories.

Memories of summers where you read your favorite books to Conrad, memories of the summer where you both shared your very first kiss by the pool.

Though right now, your little moment of bliss disappears in a poof as you finally spot your husband, up on the roof, hammering away at the loose shingles, nothing new, Conrad likes fixing up things around the house, but he's up on the roof, shirtless and sweaty, soft locks of his hair keep falling in his eyes which he pushes back, sweat trails down his tanned skin as he hammers, muscles rippling as he does so.

Upon seeing you, Conrad waves at you and then at your sister who walks in just then and it takes you a good few seconds to come out of your sexy fantasies that include one very shirtless Conrad, [handcuffing you to bed for being very naughty and then having his way with you] to wave back at him.

Your sister asks him to join you all but he hangs back, working diligently on the roof.

Your husband, the love of your life is up there on the roof being mind-bogglingly sexy and hot and you are ovulating.

The slow fire that's been alight inside you since breakfast this morning grows as you rub your thighs together, trying to ease that ache but you want him, you want Conrad inside you, right the fuck now.

Taking off your slip, you gracefully dive into the pool, hoping to cool off and swim to the other side, breaking the surface as your sister dives in after you too and then swim backstroke.

Belly walks in with a tray of non alcoholic pomegranate margaritas as you and your sister swim towards her to get your drinks.

Conrad had no intention of being by the poolside today, there were too many things around the house that needed his attention, too many chores, which is why he politely refused your sister's invitation.

But then, he looks over by the pool and stops whatever he had been doing.

You had come out of the pool to grab your drink, the cute, sexy cherry print bikini accentuates your curves, tiny drops of water trailing down your soft skin glitter like thousand diamonds under the sunlight, not to mention, the color of the swimsuit makes your beautiful eyes pop.

His eyes trace the way your lips wrap around the salted rim of the margarita glass, flashbacks of the night before rush through his mind and Conrad gulps, tightening his hold around the hammer, trying to go back to his work, but your sweet laughter floats up to him and he closes his eyes, trying not to think about your sweet giggles, your soft touches, your kisses, your soft moans when you are under him, over him.

Conrad watches you take a bite from the canapés your sister has prepared and brought along, your eyes closing in bliss as the flavors burst on your tongue, a streak of cream cheese lines the side of your lips as you reach out for another, in that moment, he wants nothing more than to lick that cream cheese off the side of your lips with his lips and so he does.

You are chilling by the poolside when you feel that familiar, warm, comforting presence of your husband as you open your eyes and there he is – the love of your life, smiling at you, his smooth tanned skin sparkling under the sunlight, his hair falling in soft strands upon his forehead, his blue-green eyes looking at you like you are his entire universe.

“Hey babe.” You smile, reaching out for him.

“Hey love.” Conrad leans in, gently tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, his gaze trailing down to your lips as he does so.

“You've got something on your lips riiiight here..” slowly tracing the outline of your lips with the pad of his thumb, Conrad licks the cheese from the side of your lips while your fingers tangle in the soft locks of his hair, your eyes soft with want as they drop down to his lips and then close in anticipation, the swarm of butterflies taking flight in your stomach.

Smiling, Conrad traces your cheek lovingly, before he leans in to kiss you but that never comes, instead you both are hit on the sides of your heads by the pool ball forcing you both to pull back.

Belly looks sheepishly between you and Conrad, “Sorry, I didn't see you two there.”

“Didn't look like that to me, your throw was way off the direction it was supposed to be.” Your sister speaks, looking at Belly pointedly.

“Absolutely not!” Belly looks offended, “I swear I didn't see them.”

“I think I'm gonna go take a shower.” Conrad speaks as he gets up, drops a kiss on your forehead and heads inside.

And you aren't oblivious of Belly's lingering gaze on your husband either.

That Evening, Steven and Conrad are in the living area, battling each other in a video game, Belly is upstairs in her room, while you and your sister are sitting on the porch by the beach, iced coffees in hand and sea salt chocolate chip cookies to munch on.

Your sister, already on her fourth cookie, closes her eyes in pure bliss as she takes a bite, “I need the receipt from Conrad like RIGHT NOW! Did he put crack in these? These are hands down the best chocolate chip cookies I've ever had, so addictive, oh my god!!”

“I'll forward your appreciation to him, I know he'll be ecstatic, if only I could tell you about the things Dr. Fisher can do with the cookie dough though.” You smile mischievously, reaching out for another baked confection.

Your sister covers her ears again, “Woah! Too much information! Let's go back to skipping out the details of your sex life.”

You laugh, shaking your head as your sibling rolls her eyes but then reaches out for your hand, holding them in her own.

“Honestly, jokes apart. I'm so so so happy for you and Conrad, sis. I'm so happy that you both have found your forever, my heart feels so full seeing you both crazy in love with each other, together, happily married and now planning for a baby. Every year on my birthday I wish for your happiness and mine and now, I'm witnessing all of those wishes coming true, I couldn't be happier than I am right now.”

You smile, lovingly cupping her cheek, “I know sweetheart, every year on my birthday, I wish for your happiness and mine too and I'm so so so happy that you and Steven found each other and now that you both have, may your love for each other grows leaps and bounds.”

You and your sibling sit in peaceful silence for a while, listening to the soothing sounds of the waves crashing on the shore until your sister speaks up again.

“I know you both are not insecure and you and Conrad trust each other more than you do yourselves, you trust each other with your lives but honestly.. I really thought that for once, Belly would do the right thing in her life.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused.

“Considering her feelings for Conrad–”

“Hold On, wait a second, her feelings for Conrad??!”

Your sister sighs, “Well, we've all known this for a while now and before you think why we all never told you and Conrad about this before, it's because it wouldn't change anything. You both are happily married, in love and together which is why Belly's feelings for Conrad are not going to change anything, he's not going to magically fall in her arms after knowing that she's been harboring feelings for him for quite a long time now.”

“Tell me everything.”

“So, this is around the time you both got engaged. After the new year's dinner party at the Conklin's, a few months later, during one of the college parties at Finch, Belly had drunkenly admitted that she has feelings for Conrad and she is only dating Jere because he is the only available option as you and Conrad have been together since forever, if you weren't then she would've definitely had him as Conrad doesn't deserves someone like you, he deserves someone like her. Also, when you both announced your engagement, she was so jealous and I quote “so jealous of her, that I wanted to take that diamond ring off her finger and throw it into the fireplace because that ring was supposed to be mine, not hers.”

Now the puzzle was finally starting to come together to make a complete picture – Belly's looks of undisguised jealousy and anger when you and Conrad announced your engagement, when you revealed that you both are trying to get pregnant, those looks of longing directed at your husband who's oblivious of her presence, not to mention, the way that pool ball hit the two of you when Conrad was about to kiss you.

“It all makes complete sense now.” You reply, “even today by the pool, she interrupted our moment.”

“She did, she totally did and which is why I called her out on her bs, but when has she ever taken accountability for any of her actions? That throw was intentional, she wanted to ruin yours and Conrad's moment.” Your sister nods, confirming your doubt.

“Taylor told me and Steven everything when we visited them during spring break and we decided to keep everything between ourselves because we all came to the same conclusion : nothing will change, Conrad loves you, You love Conrad and you both are together, you both only have eyes for each other and were getting married in a few months.”

“But then.. why? If she has feelings for Conrad, why is she engaged to Jere? Aren't they both insisting on getting married in August?”

“To be very honest, I don't know and neither do I want to know. Their relationship is strictly their business but now Belly is trying to cross a line that she shouldn't, when we found out that she has unrequited feelings for Conrad, we were all very understanding about her situation but now I can't overlook the fact that she's trying every trick in the book to create distance between the two of you.”

Your initial reaction on learning about Belly's feelings for Conrad weren't anger or anything else, rather a deep sense of understanding, she is younger than you but she has been with the Fisher brother's longer than you have, not to mention, Susannah and Laurel were bestest friends too, so it's normal for a young Belly to develop feelings for the elder Fisher.

And honestly, who wouldn't? You remember the moment you fell in love with Conrad and the rest is history.

You understand her feelings, you understand her jealousy and her frustration.

But you will have to talk to Conrad about it, he deserves to know everything.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud cheer from the living room as you and your sister look at each other, amused.

You are about to ask Conrad and Steven as to who emerged victorious amongst them in the battle of playstation, however when you walk into the living room followed by your sister, your words wither on the tip of your tongue as your eyes assess the situation before you.

Belly, who was supposedly in her room had now come downstairs and was now all over Conrad, her arms around his neck as she looks up at him, laughing while her lipstick is smudged on Conrad's pristine white t-shirt, who looks downright uncomfortable, his arms are at his side, trying to get Belly off of him while Steven looks uncomfortable too as he tries to move his sister off of his friend by gently taking her arm.

Yup, you need to have that conversation with him.

“Oops!” Belly laughs, pressing her palm to her mouth as she makes no visible attempts to distance herself from your husband, “The wifey is here! Sorry, I was just congratulating Connie on winning the game, I hope you don't mind..”

“Are you drunk, Isabella?” You simply ask.

“No! Why the hell would I be drunk? It's 8pm on a weeknight!” Again, she looks offended.

“Honestly? To me, it looked like you're drunk. Btw, have you called Jere today? I'm sure he would love to hear from his fiancée after a long tiring workday, make sure to tell him about all the wedding shopping we're about to do tomorrow.” You are smiling, but your words have that edge of ice and steel.

Yes, you definitely understand her feelings and don't harbor any ill-will towards her, however.. you won't tolerate any of the tactics she will be trying to drive a wedge between you and Conrad, you will stand your ground and call her out.

Reminding Belly about the man she's about to marry is the wakeup call she needed as she backs away from Conrad and you step into his line of vision.

His arms that were by his side, wrap around your waist like they have countless times, like they were always meant to be as Conrad pulls you closer to him, relief washing over his handsome features, his blue-green eyes that were darting around anxiously, looking for you like a lost puppy are now locked in your eyes, like the pole star to his true north.

Reminds you of that one time when you decided to do that tiktok trend with your husband where you ducked out of his sight for a few seconds at the supermarket and him looking around for you like a lost puppy, but that beautiful, radiant smile when Conrad finally found you and jogged to you after, is a memory that is forever etched in your heart.

“Did you win, my love? I knew you would, Dr. Fisher.” You smile and are about to kiss his cheek when Conrad slightly turns his head, catching your lips with his in a soft kiss that leaves you both dizzy.

“Yeah, he did but not fairly though. He cheated as always.” Steven complains, slightly pouting as your sister wraps her arms around him, laughing.

“And you are a sore loser as always, accusing me of cheating when you can't win.” Conrad rolls his eyes.

Over the next few days, Belly avoids you like the plague, even during her wedding shopping. Taylor is in Australia but she has been joining you all during shopping through video calls and will be at the wedding in August as well.

During the weekend, you, your sister and Belly are in the kitchen, you are making your well-loved, popular breakfast sandwich while the other two are seated at the kitchen island, you and your sister are engrossed in a conversation, Belly is scrolling through her phone.

“Belly, are you sure you don't have room for one more?” You ask her as you transfer the second sandwich from the pan to your sister's plate.

“No, I'm good, thanks.” Belly replies with a smile then goes back to scrolling her phone.

Conrad walks in, the scent of his soap, oud and honey, leaves a fragrant trail in the air that fills your senses, comforting and intoxicating you at the same time. His arms wrap around you as he rests his chin on your shoulder and gently sways you from side to side, making you giggle.

“How is it that everytime I look at you, you are even more beautiful than when I last saw you?”

“Aren't you the doctor? You should be able to figure it out and the last you saw me would be an hour ago when you woke up.”

“You mean when we–” Your eyes widen as Conrad is about to say something more and you shush him by gently elbowing him in the side, reminding him of your sister's and Belly’s presence who definitely didn't need to know about the lovemaking you and your husband did that morning.

“Yeah..” Conrad rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “I just came to tell you that I'm going to surf, so I'll see you later.” He kisses you slow and sweet, leaving you wanting for more.

“See ya later, Hurricane.” He teasingly ruffles your sister's hair who rolls her eyes to the sky, but you are yet to find two people who are as fond and as affectionate towards each other as your sister and Conrad are.

Belly's gaze lingers on Conrad as he leaves.

And as always, you are not oblivious to it, you are very much aware of the way, her eyes take in the scratches on his bare, smooth back, some fresh from the night before and this morning, some have healed up, some are in the process, some are fading, the fresh bites and hickeys around his neck, the sparkling golden band on his ring finger as he opens the door to the porch and looks back at you, smiling, before Conrad heads out.

You and Conrad had a long conversation about Belly's feelings for him which began by you telling him everything upfront, from her drunk confession about him till what she was trying to do that night, your husband had listened attentively, patiently and had immediately spoken up.

“I understand that Belly might have developed feelings for me over the years but I'm neither acknowledging nor reciprocating them, I love you.” Conrad cups your face in his palms, “I've been in love with you since forever, truly, madly, deeply, my heart beats for you, only for you and that's the only truth.”

The tears pooling in your eyes, the tears that fell said it all, countless times Conrad has confessed his love for you, countless times you have confessed your love for him and every single time, you both were moved to tears.

Nothing else mattered, just you, Conrad and your little world of love.

So like your sister, Steven and Taylor had predicted, nothing changed. Conrad and Belly's interactions were as they were before and honestly, you felt bad for her, to harbor feelings for someone, only for it to be not reciprocated breaks one's heart into a million tiny little pieces and that ache never truly goes.

Yet you were also confused as hell as to why would she say yes to marrying Jeremiah if she had feelings for Conrad?

Isn't that unfair to her and Jere, both?

With these thoughts running around in your mind, you were tending to the hydrangeas in the garden when Steven came rushing down the front porch.

“Conrad injured himself while surfing, he's bleeding. I tried to help him but that stubborn oaf keeps insisting that he's fine!” Steven hurriedly explains as you follow him back to the beach house.

Heart sinking, you see the trail of blood up the stairs which continues till the bathroom where your husband is, the door is ajar and standing in the doorway is Belly.

“What are you doing here?” You simply ask.

Belly turns at the speed of light, not expecting to find you there.

“I– I– uh– I heard Steven telling you that Conrad is injured so I came to check on him and see if he needed anything.”

“Thank you, that's very kind of you, but I've got it from here.” You smile and move past her, your heart sinking even more as you find your husband sitting on the edge of the empty bathtub, his wounded leg inside it as he doubles over in pain.

“Connie?” You sit down facing him and reach for the towel that's soaking in blood.

And like Steven said, your husband insists that he's okay and doesn't need help.

“It's okay, I'm fine. It's just a small cut, I'll treat it myself, I'm a doctor remember?”

“Conrad Beck Fisher, I swear to god, if you won't let me help you or treat your wound, I'll not talk to you for a whole month!” Exasperated at your husband’s stubbornness, you look him right in those beautiful blue-green eyes as you speak.

“Yes Ma'am.” Conrad nods, cutely.

You lovingly cup his cheek and then reach out for the blood soaked towel, carefully peeling it off the injury.

It wasn't a ‘small cut’ as claimed by your husband but rather a gash, a deep wound that needed stitches.

“Small cut indeed.” You shake your head as you get up to fetch the first aid box from the bathroom cabinet, “I'll clean and dress the wound for now, but after this we're immediately going to the doctor's for stitches.”

Sitting down, you elevate his injured leg and carefully apply pressure to the area to stop the bleeding, after which you carefully wash the blood off his leg and then use a clean washcloth soaked in warm water to clean around the wound, once that's done, you gently rinse the wound in clear, warm running water.

Conrad winces hard, his head dropping on your shoulder as you pat the affected area dry with a clean, soft washcloth and then take out the sterile bandage from the kit.

Once the wound is clean and bandaged, you embrace your husband in the warm sanctuary of your arms as Conrad catches his breath and you both sit like that for a while, listening to each other's heartbeats.

When Conrad looks up at you, your breath catches in your throat..

Soft strands of his hair stick to his forehead dripping with water, those beautiful clear eyes sparkle like the ocean under the sunlight, that same sunlight which casts a golden shadow on his handsome features down to his smooth tanned skin and his lips..

Goddamn those lips!

Soft, luscious, pink lips whom you've tasted countless number of times but could never ever have enough.

You know you should take Conrad to the doctor for stitches but you also want to kiss the daylights out of your husband.

And Dr. Conrad as always knows what you're thinking, his gaze drops down to your lips as he licks his lips.

“It– uh– It must be hurting, we– uh, we should go to the doctor's.” You finally speak, managing to form a sentence.

“Yes, it hurts. But not enough to stop..” Conrad answers, his deep voice an octave deeper than it already is, as he claims your lips in a searing kiss.

His fingers tangle themselves in your hair as Conrad pulls you closer and your palms rest on his chest, your nails gently raking down his skin, while you are also being extra cautious of his wound. When his lips find the column of your throat, you know it's time to pull back and tame down the heat that is always simmering between you and Conrad, before it blazes into a full wildfire and you both end up making love on the bathroom floor itself.

Not to mention, your husband needs medical attention.

Pulling back gently, you cup his face in your palms, looking into those beautifully breathtaking eyes, “I love you so much and I want you so much, but right now, we need to go to the doctor, Conrad. Your wound needs stitches.”

Nodding, Conrad rests his forehead on yours, closing his eyes as you help him step out of the tub, but not before giving him a quick, soft kiss on his lips.

Another week later, your husband was healing well, your sister had scored an internship at one of the most prestigious fashion houses in New York about and was expected to begin in September, which is why to celebrate, you all had planned a fun girls’ night out.

When you had walked past Conrad, who was curled up on the bed with a book, wearing the sexy sparkly backless red dress (the decided dress code) The book fell from his hands, landing right into his lap, his eyes, thoroughly mesmerized by your beauty, follow you as move around in your shared bedroom while his jaw drops.

As you spritz your favorite perfume over your wrist and neck, your husband comes up from behind, wraps his arms around your waist and nuzzles in the crook of your neck.

“Can I take this dress off you when you come back home?” Conrad purrs against your skin, this scent of yours, rose with subtle notes of honey makes him absolutely feral.

“Like a birthday present?” You ask, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“Exactly like you had unwrapped me as a present on your birthday, that year in London.” Your husband replies, dropping softest kisses on your neck.

You remember that year very well, you were in London owing to work and also, it was your birthday, you didn't have any elaborate plans for the day, just dinner and drinks with your colleagues after work, not to mention, you were missing the love of your life, terribly.

Imagine your surprise when your fiancé shows up at your rented apartment door at three in the morning, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and a birthday cake in the other, You and Conrad had remained civil, indulging in long hugs and sweet kisses until you had cut the cake and fed each other.

After that, you both had devoured each other with a wild abandon. Pinned against the wall, Conrad's sweet whispers of your name as you kissed down his chest had turned into deep grunts and moans when your soft mouth had wrapped around his cock, taking him in, inch by inch.

He had then eaten you out as if you were his last meal, the moans of his name that escaped your lips were shamelessly loud and all of this, while Conrad had you pinned against the balcony railing, underneath the starry London night sky while his tongue flicked on your wet folds.

You were absolutely sure that your neighbors, amongst whom are your colleagues as well as the residents of the entire building had heard and seen you both, but you and Conrad were way past caring at that point, not when you had both waited so long to feel, to hold and to touch each other after months of living apart in two different continents.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Dr. Fisher?”

“Do you want me to seduce you?”

“If you continue, I'm afraid I won't make it out of our bedroom.” You lean back in your husband’s embrace, savouring his touch on your skin.

“And that would be very unfair to everyone waiting downstairs.” Conrad hums before turning you around to face him.

“Enjoy the girls night out and if any need arises, I'm just a phone call away.”

The atmosphere of the pub downtown was lively and buzzing with music and conversations, tourists and locals alike had flocked to the place for a good time.

You and the girls were very lucky to claim a spot at the VIP lounge away from the rush as the new owner of the pub is an old acquaintance of yours. Everyone cheers as the drinks arrive, tequila for them and a tall glass of orange juice for you.

“Okay Ladies..” Anika, Belly's roommate and friend from college, speaks after tossing back her shot, “To break the ice, let's ask each other some spicy questions shall we? That way, we'll bond quickly and skip over the unnecessary hassles of introduction. Also, you are not obliged to answer, if anyone is uncomfortable or feels that the question is too personal or too spicy, you can choose not to.”

And so, you all indulge in this fun ice breaker game, asking spicy, naughty, fun questions to each other, some of the answers leave you all scandalized for a moment, some have you all laughing till your sides hurt, at one point, on Anika's answer to your sister's question as to what she notices in a man first, the orange juice you had taken a sip of, came out through your nose as you couldn't stop laughing.

Not to mention, your jaw dropped when your younger sister shyly mentioned that she likes being tied up and that she and Steven are open to experimenting in the bedroom.

At your turn, Anika rubs her palms together conspiratorially, “Hmm, so what's the freakiest thing you've ever done?”

“Ooh boy, I know the answer to this one!” Your sister drinks up her shot of tequila.

“Conrad.” You answer without a second thought.

Anika and your sister whoop in encouragement while Belly busies herself in scrolling through her phone.

“Damnnnn Girlllll, I love that for you, I really really love that for you.” Anika claps.

“Thank youuu!” You bow, laughing, “I don't think there is anything freakier than us, we're both very open to understanding each other and experimenting when it comes to sex and intimacy.”

“I can vouch for that.” Your sister rolls her eyes, “last to last Christmas, I was visiting them like I always do during the holidays, one moment, they are doing the dishes together in the kitchen and the very next moment, I hear the bedframe rattling against the wall. There was a trail of their clothes right from the kitchen to their bedroom door upstairs.”

“I mean.. we would've made love on the living room floor itself since both of us are too impatient but you were there so..” You shrug cutely.

“You two are adorable! Couple goals tbh, I hope when love finds me, me and my man are as obsessed with each other as you and Conrad are.” Anika smiles and then raises a toast for you and Conrad as everyone clinks their glasses and drink.

Your sister and Anika proceed to the dance floor while you stay back in the lounge, not in the mood to dance as of now while Belly excuses herself to get some fresh air and call Jeremiah.

The couch dips down beside you and you look up expecting to find your sister or Anika but not Belly.

“Hey..” She initiates the conversation.

“Hey.” You smile, “Back so soon? I thought it would be a while as you are talking to your fiancé after two whole days.

“Yeah, I thought so too but he's busy working, so..” Belly trails off clearly not wanting to about it so you're thinking about another topic of conversation when she speaks up after a beat of silence.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Uh, sure.” You reply, not sure where this is going.

“Have you.. Have you ever thought about being with someone else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like.. not with Conrad but with someone else, like someone from your friend circle, someone from your co-workers? I know you and Conrad are married but have you ever imagined what life would be like if you weren't with him? If you two had just remained friends and you found love with someone else, because I have, constantly.”

As she was speaking, Belly wasn't looking at you, rather staring down at the floor, while fidgeting with her engagement ring.

“I– I thought my feelings for Conrad were just a silly crush, that they would go away with time but they didn't. When I saw you two at the New Year's eve, engaged, all happy and glowing, god, I wanted to throw your ring into the fireplace! When I saw you both at the wedding, speaking your vows, looking at each other with so much love, I wanted to punch the wall! Conrad fucking cried when he saw you walk down the aisle while my whole life, he never even spared a single glance at me!!”

Rage and frustration are clear in Belly's voice as she turns to look at you, “Why? What's so special about you? What is it in you that I don't have? For fucks sake, I've known Conrad longer than you!”

You are calm as you look at her, waiting for more of her outburst, Belly stares at you for a while, hoping for a reaction but you are not getting riled up so easily and that annoys her even more.

“Years pass, Me and Jere are happy in our relationship and we are engaged! We announce the news to everyone, hoping that everyone will be as ecstatic as they were when you and Conrad announced your engagement, but noooo, how could we ever compete with the perfect star couple? My mom defended you both over me, her own daughter, her flesh and blood because you and Conrad could never do anything wrong!! Now you're trying for a baby and god forbid when you announce your pregnancy everyone will be fawning over you as if you are the very first woman that will be giving birth!!”

“You don't deserve any of what you have! You don't, the others feel like you are ‘the one’ for Conrad, the one he is destined to be with but you aren't. You are not pretty, you are not even his type, Conrad was supposed to mine and what you have is rightfully mine! You are just a random nobody who arrived in Cousins one day and claimed what was always mine!!”

Belly's outburst by now had attracted everyone's attention in the VIP lounge and outside as some of the patrons were now looking your way, even Anika and your sister had left the dance floor, making their way through the crowd to reach you both.

“Done?” You ask, drinking the last of your orange juice and then placing the glass back on the table.

“To answer your question, no I haven't thought about being with anyone else, not even in my dreams because why would I when I have Conrad right in my arms? I have only ever imagined my whole life, my whole future with him and I'm living that with him right now. We both have actually, we've both only ever imagined being with each other and we're both living in it.

And even if we had remained friends, I'm sure we would've found our way to each other's hearts, you know why? Because we are destined to be together, we are meant to be together. Whether you like it or not, whether you accept it or not, whether you find it hard to believe, but that's how it is.” You speak calmly but that edge of ice and steel in your voice is unmistakable.

“You—” Belly tries to speak but you silence her with a wave of your hand.

“I didn't interrupt you when you were going on and on about how I took away everything that was ‘rightfully yours’ so you are not going to interrupt me when I'm talking. I know about your feelings for my husband Belly, I understand how you feel seeing me and Conrad together because like you said, you've known him longer so it isn't surprising that you might've developed feelings for him, I understand how much your heart hurts from the unrequited feelings, however, that doesn't gives you the fucking right to insult me or berate me, neither does it gives you the fucking right to try to seduce my husband.”

Belly is stunned into silence as she realises that you're very well aware and seeing through all of her tactics that she's been trying on Conrad ever since she has been living at the beach house.

“I've never had any hard feelings towards you Isabela, even after knowing that you have feelings for my husband but I honestly had no idea that you harbored such jealousy and bitterness for me. We all grew up together, I thought we were friends! I thought that meant something to all of us, clearly it didn't mean anything to you. Regarding everyone's reaction to your and Jere's engagement, that's how they feel, that's on them, do not pin them on me and Conrad!

And you may feel that Conrad doesn't deserve me, I don't deserve Conrad or whatever shit you just spewed, but that doesn't matter because at the end of the day, We are together, we are married and we will always choose each other in every lifetime, in every universe.”

Standing up, You walk over to the bar counter to clear the tab and intend on leaving, but not before knocking some final sense into Belly.

“You are getting married in a few weeks Belly and if you're still so frustrated and hung up on Conrad, you should call off the wedding and take some time off to think where your head's at and what you actually want before making a complete fool of yourself and humiliating the man you are marrying.”

With those final words, you leave, your heels clicking against the floor and your head held high.

When Conrad hears the front door open downstairs, he glances at the bedside clock, surprised at the fact that someone is back home early, he then hears footsteps up the stairs and the door to the bedroom opens as you walk in.

“Back so early, babe?” Conrad sits up from where he was sprawled out on the bed, a book in his hand.

“Yeah, I didn't feel like it.” You smile as you take off your heels and drop your phone and clutch on the couch.

Conrad notices how that smile didn't quite reach up to your eyes like it always did, he notices how you were constantly wringing your hands as you took your earrings off, he notices how you're continuously zoning off as you are doing so and that has him worried. You have these little tells when you are stressed or upset just like he has and you both are able to see right through each other's shell of normalcy.

You crawl into bed, wrap your arms around Conrad and nuzzle into the warmth of his firm chest, the heat of his skin against your cheek provides you comfort from your turbulent thoughts, his presence grounds you, his love anchors you even in the most tumultuous situations.

Conrad Fisher isn't just the love of your life, he's your Home.

Conrad presses a kiss to your forehead as he pulls the comforter around you both, his fingers gently comb through your locks as he holds you close.

You are about to cry.

Yes, you stood your ground and put Belly in her place but you also can't deny that her words were hurtful, they didn't rattle you and you didn't start questioning everything like she thought they would but to think that your childhood friend held so much bitterness, jealousy and anger towards you over Conrad, the man who was supposedly ‘rightfully hers.’

How long has she hated you?

Since you and Conrad got together? Or when you arrived at Cousins with your family, all those years ago?

“Babe.”

Conrad's voice brings you back from your reverie as you look up at him.

“Are you listening? I'm asking if you want something to ea—” Conrad looks up from the book he was reading to his wife and panic rises in every cell of his body as he finds your eyes pooling with unshed tears.

“Baby, what is it? Are you hurt? Did something happen? Did anyone say something to you?” Conrad asks, cupping your face in his palms.

You shake your head, blinking back your tears, “No, love. Nothing happened, I'm okay.” You smile and burrow yourself further in his embrace.

“It's.. It's just that.. I missed you so much.” You look up at him again, your thumb gently tracing patterns on his cheek.

“I want you.” You speak and then shutting out all the voices in your head, lean in and claim his lips in a kiss.

And how could Conrad ever deny you?

A soft sigh of arousal escapes your lips when he kisses you back, your hands frame his face as you pull him closer and climb into his lap, straddling him, your knees pressing into the bed on either side of his hips. Conrad's arms wrap around your waist, fingers digging into your skin through the sheer fabric of the dress before they slip inside, caressing that bare, warm skin of yours.

His tongue swept over your bottom lip before Conrad deepens the kiss.

You feel the way his body tensed up under you, you feel the way his tongue tangles with yours, you feel the way he is getting hard as you squirm in his lap.

Your palms that were resting on his strong shoulders move down to his bare chest, feeling that soft expanse of his skin underneath your fingertips as you continue kissing him with a wild abandon.

“Undress me.. please. I want you to undress me.” Your voice, thick with need, is barely above a whisper as you speak.

When Conrad pulls back, your heart melts into a puddle and the stickiness between your thighs blooms at the same damn time – his blue-green puppy eyes are blown wide with need and he is looking at you like the goddess of love, beauty and desire, Aphrodite is herself sitting in his lap, his soft pink lips, parted and swollen from kisses are smeared with spit and your lipstick, his breaths uneven, his touch scalding as he maps your curves.

There was a running joke amongst your group that Conrad's touch is ice-cold because he's cold hearted but you've never felt it, never when during childhood, he thought you how to play baseball, never when you danced in his arms at the Deb Ball, never when he held you and never when he made love to you, rather little fires of need ignited in your body that you didn't even knew to exist before him, wherever he touched.

His lips are now pressing kisses along your jaw, along the column of your throat to your bosom as his fingers work on your dress but it's proving to be a difficult task as you impatiently keep squirming in his lap.

“Baby..” He breathes against your lips, “I'm trying but you need to stop doing that.” Conrad points down at your hips moving in achingly slow, deliberate circles against his arousal, “otherwise, I don't know what I'll do.”

“Maybe, I want you to do that.” You smile coyly, your thumb tracing his lower lip.

“Fuck.” Conrad curses, his voice deep and strained with want as he kisses you again, all tongue and teeth as his deft hands pull down the neckline of your dress.

His tongue immediately wraps around one of your nipples as your hands tangle in his soft hair while your back arches and a loud shameless moan slips past your lips, lavishing your other breast with the love and affection, tonguing your nipples till they peak, Conrad pulls back with a slight pop and kisses you again.

Pushing him back slightly, so that the mattress bounces a little under his weight, you move down his chest, placing softest kisses here and there.

When you reach the hard bulge in his boxers, you look up at him from beneath your lashes and Conrad's breath catches in his throat, you were sweet sin and dangerous seduction personified and he was a sinner, your sinner.

Heart hammering in his chest, Conrad watches as you gently pull his boxers down, freeing his cock which hits against his abdomen with a gentle thwack making you giggle a bit at the funny sound but then you look up at him again before wrapping your hand around his length.

A flush of pride and excitement rushes down your spine when it swells under your touch, your mouth waters from how long and thick he is, precum pearls at his mushroom tip, thick veins run down from the underside as you gently stroke him a few times before leaning in and licking a long stripe from base to tip, tongue swirling against his slit, tasting the slightly bitter precum and then use your thumb to spread it down his shaft.

Conrad curses, the sound low and guttural like the air has been knocked out from his lungs and you smile, mentally patting yourself at the victory. Your lips, soft and slow wrap around his tip sucking him a little harder while your fingers roll beneath his balls, his hips push up, his head falling back on the mattress with a soft thud, his chest rising and falling a little faster now as a sheen of sweat glistens on his skin.

“Feels good, love?”

“Yeah..” Conrad rasps, voice heavy with arousal, “feels so good, love..”

Slowly, you take him in your mouth, until you feel the weight of him on your tongue and hollowing your cheeks, you lick down the sensitive underside of his cock, setting a rhythm and using your hands to stroke what you can't reach, sinking lower and lower until his tip nudges the soft spot at the back of your throat.

His hands that were at his side till now, tangle gently in your hair, not pushing, pulling or guiding - just there, letting you do whatever you want with him and by the way you're going, Conrad knows it won't be long till he spills right into your throat.

“You're so beautiful..” Conrad manages to speak, more to himself than to you, “so so beautiful.. I can't believe I got so lucky..”

You moan around his girth, very pleased with yourself as your mouth works in tandem with your hands, in and out, licking, sucking and stroking.

He whimpers when your lips graze his balls, whimpers..

“Baby.. oh! Oh god.. I– I'm not gonna last long..” Conrad gasps.

Conrad lifts his head and almost passes out from the sight before him, your spit slicks his cock, glistens at the corners of your mouth, a thin string of saliva connects your lips to his shaft which severs as you lean in and place a kiss on the tip before getting up from between his thighs.

The kiss that follows is searing, all consuming as you both claw off whatever fabrics are left on your bodies, Conrad flips you so that you are on your back, sprawled out on bed as he takes his own sweet time to look at you, look at his wife bathed in the soft bedroom lighting.

Your hair cascades like a waterfall on the sheets, your body, bare, curvaceous and beautiful hums with need and warmth, your skin is flushed, your breaths are uneven, your eyes are blown wide with need, your neck marked with fresh hickies and arousal glistens between your thighs.

“Are you just going to watch Dr. Fisher?” You ask coyly, sitting up slightly on your elbows.

“Don't blame me, my wife is so beautiful, just.. otherworldly beauty if I'm being honest. I'm so fucking lucky!” He responds with a smile, leaning over you.

You smile and kiss him softly, once, twice and then Conrad is chasing your lips again.

“And right now, your wife is soaking wet at the thought of you inside her, at the thought of your thick cock stretching her out.” You whisper, your breath hot against the shell of his ear, “So are you going to do something about it, Dr. Fisher?”

Smiling against your lips, Conrad flips you so that you're on your fours on the bed and your heart hammers in your chest from excitement, from that rush of arousal that thrums through your body as you feel his palm, gentle yet teasing, trace down your back before he gently spreads your legs so that he can settle comfortably between them.

Conrad strokes himself a few times before slipping his cock inside, the wetness pooling between your legs and his leaking, painfully hard shaft [all thanks to your mouth ;)] allows for easy slide between your folds, his tip nudges your clit and that friction is enough to make you see stars as your back arches, your hips lift greedily for more on their own will as you moan his name, loud and clear.

“Conrad..”

His one hand rests on the soft curve of your stomach while the other pushes you back down into the mattress as Conrad pushes his thick length further, the whine on your tongue melting into another moan of his name as his cock sinks between your gummy walls, stretching you out like you've been craving for since you both were making out in his lap.

Buried to the hilt, Conrad gives you some time to adjust to his girth, dropping softest kisses on your back and shoulders, you feel his warm, broad, firm body pressed against your back as he does so and also, very lovingly, moves your hair away from your face. Your fingers entwine lovingly with him from where they are resting against your stomach before you turn to look at the love of your life and he places a soft kiss on your lips, you chase his lips for one more which turn into three more.

When he moves, Conrad's pace is guarded, cautious at first but as your hips meet his, that greed from earlier coming back in full force and you push yourself back on his cock, it shifts into something hard, hot and messy.

“Baby.. you.. Baby.. you feel so good, FUCK! Squeezing me so.. so good.. FUCKING HELL!” He growls, drunk on your love and on your pussy.

You brace yourself against the mattress, your fingers curling into the sheets in a white knuckled grip even though your arms feel like jelly, the force of his hard thrusts has you driving further up the bed and your lashes are wet with tears.

Your sister, Anika and Belly crash on the living room couches as soon as they walk into the beach house, thoroughly exhausted from the night out.

“Wait.. do you guys hear that?” It's Anika who speaks up again.

“Hear what?” Belly asks, clueless.

“That..” Anika points to the ceiling, clearly indicating the rooms upstairs.

Your sister listens closely.

At first, she, like Belly, could not hear anything but then she did, the rhythmic rattle of something heavy against the wall, it's slow at first but gets louder, until all three of them could clearly hear it.

The sound was coming from upstairs, where your and Conrad's bedroom is, Conrad is at home and you came back home from the pub like you informed your sister through text on your ride back home, promising to tell her everything tomorrow at breakfast.

That only means one thing.

The math is definitely math-ing.

“This is exactly what I was telling you about, back at the pub.” Your sister nods as Anika's jaw drops.

“You.. you mean.. this is them??” She asks.

“Yup, that's the bed frame rattling against the wall.”

Belly's face grows hot as she excuses herself to get some fresh air and almost runs out the front door.

“Get it girllllllll!!” Anika cheers and your sister laughs before they too leave to give you and Conrad privacy, closing the door behind them.

Arousal pools in the pit of your stomach, each of Conrad's hard thrusts bringing you closer and closer to the edge of an orgasm that you know will have you seeing stars like it always does.

“Let go sweet girl.. I've got you.” Conrad cooes, his pace unrelenting as he showers sweetest kisses on your shoulders.

It isn't long before you are cumming on his cock, galaxies bursting behind your eyelids as Conrad watches you fall apart for him and lovingly holds you through it all, then flips you again, so that now you're on your back, looking into his eyes.

You can feel him nearing his release too as he twitches inside you, his thrusts getting slower, reaching out, you lovingly cup his face in your palms and press your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“Cum for me Connie, please cum inside me.”

And that's all it takes for Conrad to fall over the edge as he cums, emptying himself deep inside you with a grunt.

You both lie there for a while, catching your breaths as your heartbeats return to normal and you both transport back down to earth from the realm of stars. Conrad gets up and you whine cutely as you miss the warmth of his body, making grabby hands towards your husband to which he smiles, love and fondness shining in his beautiful eyes as he leans down to kiss you before exiting the room.

Drifting between slumber and consciousness, you are almost asleep and don't notice Conrad coming back, it's only when you feel his soft lips on your forehead, on your cheeks is when you wake up to find him sitting on bed, a soft smile lighting his handsome features as he gently caresses your cheek, thoroughly endeared and head over heels in love.

“I'm so sleepy..” You nuzzle into his chest.

“I know my love, but first you need to drink this.” Conrad hands you a glass of water and makes sure you drink until the last drop, “And then you need to eat.”

“Hmm.. so round 2 after food then?” You ask coyly, looking up at him.

“We both need to eat and I'm cooking.” Conrad answers, amused as he keeps kissing you again and again.

“A quickie on the kitchen counters then?” You giggle which turns into a squeal of laughter as Conrad picks you up in his arms before walking out of the bedroom.

[kissesfromkiki]

This was so absolutely crazy. I was gagged so bad. Jenny needs to direct every episode ever.