After seeing his loved ones together again after years apart, questions about Conrad's love life end up bringing your photo to the table.
୨ৎ ──── gentle love. 1,9k. fem!reader. season three spoilers. english isn't my first language. main masterlist.
Sometimes, Conrad would look across the table and see his mother smiling at him.
It didn’t matter that she had been gone for years now, her absence a quiet ache that threaded through every season since. It didn’t matter that this was her memorial, that the soft clink of cutlery was muted by the weight of grief, or that candles flickered gently in her name while bouquets of her favorite flowers filled the room with the ghost of summer. It didn’t matter that every chair was occupied by someone who had known her laugh, her warmth, and her boundless way of loving and who carried that loss like a stone in their chest.
It didn’t matter that the person really sitting across from him was his father, rigid in his collared shirt.
Because for him, Susannah was always there.
She was in the light. In the sun pouring through the restaurant window and catching the glint of the ocean just beyond the dunes. In the quiet way Laurel had wrapped her arms around him earlier, holding him like a second mother, so tight and grounding, as if she could hold him together just long enough to get through the day. She was in the sound of Steven’s easy laugh, in the way Belly rolled her eyes fondly at her brother’s joke, and in how Jeremiah nudged his shoulder like they hadn’t lost entire years between them.
Being with them again, after everything and despite everything, felt like slipping into a worn hoodie from his childhood. Frayed at the sleeves, thinned in places, but still warm. Still his.
And then there was you.
Maybe most of all, she was in you.
You, who had crashed into his life quietly and all at once, like the tide.
He’d met you just weeks before his mother died. A moment in time he sometimes thought about like a scene in a movie, too perfectly timed to be real. Like fate, or maybe something softer. Kinder. Maybe she had sent you. Maybe Susannah, with all her light and knowing and mother’s heart, had looked at her boy, being a splintered, grieving, impossibly young and already so tired, and thought: he’s going to need someone like her.
Someone patient. Someone with a voice like a lullaby and laughter that filled the cracks in his chest. Someone who ate ice cream even on rainy days and sang along, very badly, to the radio with him, who learned his silences and never tried to fix them, only sat beside him until he could breathe again.
You had been her parting gift. The last bright ribbon on a life wrapped too tightly around loss.
And sometimes, when you smiled at him from across the room like he was the only thing you saw, or when you pressed your hand flat against his chest like you could feel the places where it still hurt, Conrad would close his eyes, swallow the knot in his throat, and think:
Thank you, Mom.
He was still lost in thought about you when Laurel’s voice rose above the soft clink of glasses and low hum of conversation. Her tone was warm, filled with that quiet maternal pride that always wrapped around him like a knit blanket, one he never asked for but always accepted. She was raising a toast to her children, to their futures, her eyes glinting with unshed emotion beneath the dim restaurant lighting. The flicker of candlelight played across her face as she turned her gaze toward him, and the warmth in her voice softened further.
She spoke of him next.
Of all he’d done, all he’d built, far from home. Her words weren’t just kind, they were reverent and admiring. She spoke of his discipline, his strength, and the way he’d carried the weight of grief and still managed to chase down a future through lecture halls and exam rooms. Each sentence felt like a gentle pat on the shoulder, a reminder that he wasn’t invisible in his efforts. That someone, even from afar, had seen him.
Conrad stared down at the glass in front of him, the golden liquid inside catching the light just enough to blur his reflection. He felt the burn behind his eyes, low and steady, and swallowed it down like the rest of the things he never said.
But before the silence of her words could settle, before he could let the swell of emotion crest and fall, Steven’s voice cut in. Playful. Sharp. Curious. A disruption of that fragile stillness.
“So do you have a girl there?” He asked, his voice slicing through the quiet hum of reverence like a pebble skipped across still water.
Conrad blinked slowly, his gaze lifting from the golden ripple of his drink, catching the soft light that danced along the glass’s edge. For a moment, he hesitated, not because he didn’t know the answer, but because saying it aloud felt fragile and intimate, like unfolding a delicate secret in a room still steeped in memories and silence.
Around the table, Laurel smiled warmly, gently nudging Belly with an elbow as if sharing a quiet joke. Jeremiah tilted his head, curiosity flickering across his features. Even his father looked up from his plate, brows arched with a quiet but unmistakable interest.
The attention turned toward him like a slow tide.
Conrad didn’t rush. He never did. He rubbed a thumb against the condensation on his glass, lips twitching just slightly.
“Yeah,” he said, voice low but sure. “Yeah, I do.”
Steven leaned forward, eyes bright and wide with boyish enthusiasm. “Wait, seriously? You’re seeing someone?”
His dad chuckled softly, a sound rich with both surprise and amusement. “And you didn’t bring her? Why not?”
Conrad looked up then, eyes calm but glittering with something warmer, deeper. “It’s her family’s day, too,” he said quietly. “Didn’t feel right to take her away.”
A thoughtful pause followed, the kind that hangs heavy yet respectful in the air. Laurel’s voice broke it gently, honeyed with fondness. “What’s she like?”
And there it was, the question that mattered most.
Conrad didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for his wallet, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t just flipping through receipts and cards but handling something precious. He slid a small, worn photo from the back sleeve, the one he kept tucked there like a secret, like a prayer.
It was you, standing on the beach last fall, hair wild from the wind, the hem of your jeans wet with saltwater. You weren’t even looking at the camera. You were laughing at something he’d said, eyes half-shut from smiling, your hand lifted in a blurry motion like you’d just tossed a shell back into the waves.
He laid the photo on the table.
A soft collective breath escaped the group, somewhere between a sigh and a quiet ‘oh.’ Laurel’s hand fluttered to her chest, her eyes shining with unspoken emotion. Belly’s head tilted, brows knitting together in a thoughtful frown.
“Wait…that’s this beach,” she murmured.
“That’s our house behind,” Jeremiah added, glancing at his brother. “You brought her here? When?”
“Almost a year ago,” Conrad said softly.
For a moment, no one spoke. The room seemed to pause, the usual clatter of the restaurant fading beneath the weight of his quiet vulnerability. This raw, unguarded glimpse into his life was rare, almost sacred.
Even his father nodded slowly, a silent approval etched into the lines of his weathered face.
“Well,” Laurel said softly, eyes shimmering, “she must be pretty special.”
Conrad’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, the corners lifting with a quiet certainty. “She is,” he murmured. “She really is.”
A minute later, Conrad quietly excused himself from the table, slipping away from the low hum of conversation and the soft clinking of glasses. He didn’t really need the bathroom, he just needed a moment to breathe, to catch the sharp edges of his thoughts before they cut too deep.
His throat felt tight and heavy, the strange ache that comes when grief and love collide pressing against his chest like a weight he couldn’t set down.
Leaning against the cool, smooth tile wall, he pulled out his phone. Your name was already glowing softly on the screen, as if waiting for him, an anchor in the swirling storm.
He tapped it gently and held the phone to his ear, heart pounding a quiet rhythm.
You answered on the second ring, your voice soft and warm, wrapping around him like a familiar melody that made the noisy restaurant fade into a distant murmur.
“Hey, love. Everything alright?” you asked, your tone tender, filled with a soothing kind of care that made his tight chest ease a little.
He swallowed hard, the ache tightening as he pressed his forehead against the cold wall, eyes closing for a brief moment. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just needed a little break.”
A pause stretched between them, your steady breathing a quiet comfort over the line.
“You sound a little shaken,” you said gently. “Talk to me.”
He let out a shaky breath, fingers curling around the edge of the sink. “It’s just…today. Being with them, remembering her. And now…hearing your voice.”
You didn’t rush to fill the silence. Instead, you let it hold him like a soft, protective cloak, an unspoken invitation to unravel the tight knot inside his chest.
“I told them I have a girlfriend,” he said, a shy, almost bashful smile touching his lips. “Showed them a picture of you.”
Your laughter was gentle and bright through the phone. “Oh? You really did?”
He nodded, though you couldn’t see the movement. “Yeah. Wanted them to know you’re not just a voice in my ear.”
There was a tenderness in your voice that made his heart skip, a soft anchor in the tumult. “I’m very real.”
He brushed a trembling hand over his face, trying to chase away the rawness threatening to spill through his words. “I miss you so much.”
“I miss you too,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “But at least we’re just a call away.”
His lips curved into a genuine, quiet smile. The heavy weight pressing on his chest lifted ever so slightly. “I’m lucky.”
“No,” you said softly, voice steady and sure. “I’m the lucky one.”
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, letting the warmth of your voice fill the hollow spaces inside him, the steady pulse of your love a balm to his weary heart. For a fragile, fleeting moment, everything felt like it might be alright.
He lingered in the silence, the phone pressed gently to his ear, as if holding onto you through the line could stop the world from spinning too fast.
“I wish you were here,” he finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, heavy with longing.
There was a quiet pause, full of everything that words couldn’t say.
“I know,” you answered softly. “I wish I was, too.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling the chill of the tiles seep through his skin, grounding him even as his heart soared.
“Soon,” you promised gently, “I’ll be with you for real. No more phone calls.”
A small, hopeful smile broke through the tension coiled inside him.
As a society I think we should stop saying “Conrad is in love with his brother’s fiancee” and start saying “Jeremiah is engaged to his brother’s ex girlfriend”
just Conrad proposing to you WAYY better than Jeremiah ever could trust me and I didn’t really look over this story so there might be some mistakes
It started like any other late summer afternoon at Cousins — or at least, that’s what you thought.
The sky was that perfect, hazy blue that only exists at golden hour, streaked with soft clouds and the warmth of July. You hadn’t been to Cousins in weeks — not since school got so busy.
But Conrad had called you the night before, asking, “Come to Cousins with me tomorrow. Just for the day.”
You didn’t question it. When it came to Conrad, you never really could.
Now you were driving with the windows down, his hand resting on your thigh, the scent of salt and sunscreen already filling your lungs. Music played low on the radio, but he wasn’t singing along like he normally would. He was quiet. Not distant, just… quiet. Like he was trying to keep something inside.
You parked in the same driveway you always had, the house just as you remembered — white trim, sea-worn wood, and tons of summers past hanging in the air. But Conrad didn’t let you go inside.
“Come with me,” he said, his fingers lacing with yours.
You looked at him curiously. “Is this the part where you tell me you found a hermit crab and named it after me again?”
He smiled — that crooked, nervous Conrad Fisher smile — and shook his head. “No. Something better.”
You passed the firepit. The volleyball net. The log where you and he sat for hours talking about constellations and fears and forever. And then… you saw it.
The old dock.
Except now it looked like a dream.
String lights were hung around the posts. A blanket was spread out at the end, weighted down by candles in glass jars and hydrangeas that looked like they’d been picked with care.
You stopped walking.
“Wait,” you breathed. “What is this?”
He turned to face you, eyes soft and nervous and so full of love it almost hurt.
Before you could say anything else, he let go of your hand, dropped to one knee — and for a moment, the world just stopped.
Your breath caught.
Conrad Fisher — your Conrad — was looking up at you like you were the only thing he saw, kneeling in front of you with a velvet box in his hand.
“I’ve been trying to figure out what to say for weeks,” he began, voice low and trembling. “I’ve rewritten this in my head a thousand times — when you’re asleep next to me, in the car when a song reminds me of you, during random moments when I look over at you and realize all over again that I’m in love with you.”
You were already crying.
“I don’t think I ever believed in soulmates — not really. Not until you. You changed everything for me. You were never just the girl I liked. You were the girl who stayed. When I pushed you away, when I pulled you in, when I shut you down — you were still there. You’ve seen me at my worst. And you never gave up on me. You reminded me that I was worth loving, even when I didn’t believe it.”
“I’m not perfect. I overthink everything. But you — you make me want to be better. You make everything feel possible. You make love feel like coming home.”
“I want every version of life with you,” he said, his voice thick now. “The messy parts. The mornings when nothing goes right. The nights when we’re just laughing on the couch, half-asleep with takeout. I want to fight with you and make up with you. I want to grow old with you, even if we still argue about who’s better at Mario Kart.”
You laughed through the tears, shaking your head.
He smiled.
“I asked your parents last week,” he added softly. “Your mom cried. Your dad tried to act tough, but he hugged me before I even finished asking.”
Your hand flew to your mouth.
“And now I’m asking you,” he said, finally opening the box.
The ring was a gold-and-silver stone. Beautiful. Classic. Him.
“So I’m not just asking if you’ll marry me,” he said. “I’m asking if you’ll choose me. Over and over. The way I’ve always chosen you. My forever?”
You didn’t speak.
You dropped to your knees right there in front of him, face wet with joy, hands trembling.
“Yes,” you whispered. “Yes. Yes. Always.”
He let out the softest breath — part laugh, part relief, part sob — and slid the ring onto your finger.
And when he pulled you into his arms, both of you kneeling on that dock lit up with soft lights and candle flame, the waves crashing behind you like applause, you knew:
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.
"if i met you for the first time tonight i would love you" "oh, come on, conrad. how do you know that?" "because i've changed everything about myself and the one thing that never changes is that i love you" THIS IS THE MOST ROMANTIC THING I'VE EVER HEARD. OH MY GOD
