thank you so so so much for all the love over the past 10 months! i never thought i’d hit this milestone ever, let alone so soon on tumblr. i appreciate you all deeply, even if my relationship with this account is rocky.
here are some fics you can expect for our celebration:
too sweet au texts
feelin’ lucky texts
tate mcrae x bff!reader
brendon park x younger!reader
sugar daddy!brendon park x reader
brendon park x sensitive!reader
michael robinavitch x younger!reader
(finally nice!!!) rabbot x reader
jack abbot x sensitive!reader
jack abbot x younger!reader
anddddd open requests for nhl, tsitp & the pitt!!! just send an ask saying it’s for the 2k follower celly! requests are closed!
all fics will be tagged with # k’s 2k follower party💐
ahhhh! i love your blog sm! could you write some steven conklin nsfw hcs ?
I’m backkk & ofc had to return with a hcs
nsfw & sfw
ੈ✩‧₊˚ steven conklin. you probably met him at a party or in cousins when you were kids from you being friends with his sister. once you both started to hit puberty, he couldn’t lie about the subtle attraction he had towards you. neither could you, of course.
ੈ✩‧₊˚ every summer you just seemed to get closer and closer. facetiming throughout the school year, counting the days were you will see eachother again.
ੈ✩‧₊˚ steven was weirdly overprotective. he played no games at all when it came to you. at parties, he was right on your hip— grabbing your drinks for you, only letting you dance on him or friends— and hell, if you went off with your friends, he atleast followed in the crowd with his, making sure he was one step away.
ੈ✩‧₊˚ steven who loved to tease you. he loves seeing you blush, watching your eyes widen with only his words. “what’s wrong, babe? cat got your tongue?” he teases, caressing your lip with his thumb.
ੈ✩‧₊˚ steven who loves doing adventures things with you. going on hikes, night walking, volleyball tournaments, cute date ideas— he just loved your presence.
ੈ✩‧₊˚ steven who absolutely adoresss you. he couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he had chosen a different girl. he makes sure you know that everytime he gets his mouth on you.
ੈ✩‧₊˚ he had been eating your out for an hour now. you were so overstimulated— legs pinned under your own arms by his grip, his tongue relentlessly attacking your clit as your legs shook. “stevennn, I can’t—please, I n-need you,” you begged, making him groan into your pussy, shaking his head around. “no you can take it. cum one more time for me, baby, you got it.” he spoke directly onto you clit, slapping your ass as he increased his speed, making your back arch.
ੈ✩‧₊˚ steven who was also slightly submissive. you had been arguing for ages, days on end. you couldn’t understand why. steven was just at your throat about everything. so, the next time he did it, you didn’t hesitate to put him in his place. your head bobbed against his cock, two hands stroking him quickly. he was a whimpering mess, leaning against the stair case, gripping the bars. “f-fuckkk, I’m gonna,” just as he said that. you pulled away. he whined, grabbing at your hair gently, “please…” he begged, and you giggled, starting to suck him again at the same speed. you let him cum— eventually.
having a bad bad symptom flare up. did you know that Conrad "husband material" Fisher is actually obsessed w taking care of you? well he is. here are some headcanons cause that's a lil easier for me rn:
connie knows every one of your symptoms, triggers, treatments
he knows what all your meds do (both prescribed and over the counter) and just when you need them
he knows how you like your tea and which ones help you depending on how you're feeling
he knows what electrolyte flavors you like, what snacks are easy for you to eat, what protein shakes go down easiest
conrad knows how to style your hair no matter what length or texture or style it is
if you wear protective styles he WILL learn to braid. have you seen his hands?? even on a bad day he'll get you nice and comfy, rolling you onto your back or side or stomach so he can make sure that your hair is healthy and groomed the way you like and that he's taking care of you
he knows how to do your whole skin care routine and doesn't mind doing it either
there is nothing and I mean NOTHINGGGG to small or personal for him to help you with
you could literally be shitting and sobbing and throwing up during an IBS or IBD or crohns disease flare up and he does not bat a goddamn eye
he'll rub oatmeal lotion and whatever creams you need when your eczema flares up. he'll mist the spots with cool water and layer you up with aloe to stop the itching and burning
he's LITERALLY qualified to care for you both as a boyfriend AND a med school resident. he can give you shots if you need them, check your blood sugar if that's an issue, if he COULD open you up and manually fix your body from the inside out, HE WOULD DO IT.
tldr conrad fucking LOVES his chronically ill and/or disabled partner. he loves you so fucking much he has several degrees in loving you properly. he sleeps well at night knowing he's RIGHT THERE to take care of you.
hi! can you do a conrad fic? i feel like i need big time yearning, like pining for reader, all his pov 🙏🏼
I loved writing this anon! Thanks for the request
/
She’s staring at me again.
Conrad pauses the YouTube video again, knowing that when he looks down at his phone, you’ll be there, on FaceTime, smirking your usual smile, eyes watching him.
It hurts, almost in a good way, to be the object of your attention.
“Conrad, what is the point of having me on video call if you’re not even gonna talk?” You laugh, and he smiles.
“I told you. You help me focus.” Conrad explains, as you snort. “Really, it helps me stay accountable to studying if I know that you’re there, like a warden, to make sure I don’t get off task.”
“That’s such bullshit, you know it. You’re never off task.” You retort, and Conrad can’t help but laugh at that. “What’s so funny?”
He doesn’t answer, and he sees you move onto reading your book. Still on call, though.
Conrad’s always off task when he’s with you. You’re distracting in your own way.
For one thing, you seem to always call him in out in a way that’s satisfying. It’s always you and him on equal footing– Conrad can’t avoid the truth when he’s with you.
Like he has to be entirely himself for once. You won’t accept anything else, not the version of himself that exists when he’s with his family, where he can only be the big responsible older brother.
That’s another thing he finds so funny. For someone who seems to get him so well– you really don’t notice how badly he wants you.
He knew he liked you when you noticed he wasn’t feeling well. It was a time where Adam and Jeremiah had both iced him out for different reasons– and Conrad was falling into a slump of depression.
You and him were in Stanford’s food hall. Conrad barely spoke a word. He didn’t even have to say a typical, brooding asshole response, one that usually clues most people into him being off, and then they call him out on it, but it’s easier for him to play the bad guy– and so the truth is never revealed.
Easy way for him to never have to make anyone feel burdened.
“Hey.” You said, and Conrad looked up to see you staring at him quizzically, a solution on the tip of your tongue. “You’re looking a little rough. Everything okay?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” He responded, avoidant as ever, but it didn’t work on you for whatever reason.
“I can see you’re angry about something, so I’m not going to take it personally.” You shrugged. “I know it’s not me.”
Conrad chuckled despite his bad mood. “How do you know that?”
“Because I’m lovable.” You smiled, and then shook your head. “No, it’s like you get this faraway look in your eyes– you’re just thinking so hard about something else. Not me.”
“Not you.” Conrad repeated, and then he realized you might be the first– the only person to understand him without him having to outright say it.
“When you are thinking about me, you’re looking right at me.” You added, and Conrad, not realizing until right then what a big crush he had on you, reddened deeply.
You never forced him to say what was up that day, but that didn’t mean you let him go easy. You understood him, and that came with a little price– he had to fess up because there would never be anything to hide from you.
He really loves you now. It’s been about a year since then, and maybe two years since he’s met you, and he knows that he loves you as surely as he loves talking about stamps and woodworking to anyone who would listen. Because you’re his best friend– you’re never not by his side.
But how to tell you, when just being next to you sometimes is enough to make his head dizzy? And then the pain he gets from not telling you, too, is almost brutally satisfying– it reaffirms to him again and again that he loves you, that you’re really real, it’s not all just some fantasy in his head.
“Conrad.” You speak from his phone, and he looks at you, enjoying that even when you’re a pixellated mess, you look perfect to him.
That’s another reason you’re horribly distracting. You’re beautiful, gorgeous in fact– you’ve got soft, flowy hair, doe eyes that seem to perceive everything in the whole world, and your lips form a perfect smile. It’s all to a point where he can’t help but feel like he’s looking at someone far out of his league.
It sounds ridiculous, he knows. Conrad is well aware of the fact that he’s been considered good looking by many.
But it’s not just being good looking. You’re beautiful because you’re at ease with yourself. It’s not all the time, either, it’s because you’re comfortable with him, and when you talk, sometimes your face gets enlightened by a glow that he can’t help but be in awe of.
It’s a bit unlike him. He’s always a little shy, a little unsure and holding back– something that could be attractive in it’s own way, he’s sure– but you are something different and he doesn’t know if you would like him in the same way.
Sometimes you do this little thing where you stick your tongue out and bite it while you’re thinking– and it’s so adorable and weirdly cute-hot that Conrad has to resist the urge to lean in and kiss you.
You’re doing it now, even.
“Yeah? What’s up?” He asks, hoping he doesn’t sound in love with you.
“I was gonna ask if you wanted to meet in the coffee shop by the museum around three.” You yawn. “I need a break.”
You could ask him to punch himself in the face, and he’d do it.
“Okay.” He waves goodbye at you, and you blow him a kiss through the camera– something you’ve done jokingly before– but it sends his heart ablaze as you do it.
God, he really wants you.
/
Conrad arrives to see that you’re already at a table, sipping an iced latte.
It’s a bit chilly– a cool December day for Palo Alto, California. Conrad is wearing a light jacket, and you’re wearing a blazer-coat thing that is a very satisfying burgundy colour.
You wave him over, and as Conrad sits down, he realizes you’re wearing a dress, too. Not just any dress– it’s a plaid, velvety dress that hugs your body, and lets him see a lot more than he typically does.
Has Conrad thought about telling you that you’re hot? That it’s unfair, the effect you have on him sometimes. And again, he doesn’t know if you think of him that way at all, so he’s just left to his own thoughts.
But then he catches your gaze, and your eyes soften as you smile at him, and there it is– the fluttering in his chest. The love he has for you is making itself known, again, and he knows all he wants to do hold you close
He settles for talking to you.
“What’s the get-up for?” Conrad inquires, and you shrug.
“Can’t a girl just want to dress up, for fun?” You sip your coffee again. “No, you’re right. I was just tired of being a bum at home– I needed to get out. Look, it’s all casual.”
“Oh, alright.” Conrad sighs and jokingly grumbles. “Now I look like a bum in comparison to you.”
“Shut up, you do not.” You respond, and then you grin, a real big grin that has Conrad staring at you again. “You always look nice, Conrad.”
“Thanks.” He gets up, going to go order his own coffee. “And you look beautiful.”
Conrad walks away before he realizes what he’s said, and then he looks back at you from where he’s standing in the line.
Oh, you’re almost… embarrassed looking. He hopes he didn’t bother you by saying that. But you’re also smiling, still, and you mouth thank you at him.
He flashes a peace sign at you.
Then you’re looking out the window, at ease, and he can’t help but admire you. Look at the way your features align, your forehead down to your nose, your cupid’s bow, and then your lips. You are perfectly whole, entirely you, and all he can think is that he doesn’t mind how you seem to take up all his thoughts.
That he can’t help but imagine what it would be like to hold you. To be close to you. To be chosen by you, to kiss you and understand you in all your mysterious ways, things he doesn’t know yet but things that he wants to know in the future. He wants to be there when you’re happy, angry, sad, discontent, whatever it may be.
Because he knows. That if he was so lucky as to have a future with you– he would be indescribably happy.
You make him happy. Maybe even to the point where he’s still just content to be your friend, even if you didn’t want him in that way.
But Conrad knows he can’t bury down these feelings forever.
He’s barely taken a seat with his own cup of coffee when you ask him.
“What’d you get?”
“Something minty. I don’t know, I asked for the special.” Conrad admits, and you giggle.
“Conrad, you never get what you want to get.” You comment, and he takes that as a challenge.
“Well–” He coughs, the feeling suddenly overwhelming as you’re looking at him so intently.
Oh, now he knows you’ll never drop it. You’re waiting for him to finish that sentence.
“If I told you that I want you, would you be against that?” He finishes, and then you blink, and Conrad is so satisfied to see that you’re unsure of what to say, for once.
You look so flustered for once. You’re pressing your lips together, and all he can think is that he wants to make you look this confused-yet-happy every single day.
“I’m not against it.” You finally answer, but it comes out all airy and Conrad has to fight the urge to plant a kiss on you right then and there. “I actually– I never thought you wanted me like that, honestly.”
“Really? You’ve always read me like a book.” Conrad says, but his thoughts are dancing now, in excitement, and he almost can’t bear to look at you nearly as much as he can’t bear to look away.
He’s terrified, and he knows you can see it.
You have a little smile. “I like to think that I have. But I would’ve never guessed you like me, especially when I probably drive you up a wall with how much I talk.”
“I love when you talk.” Conrad says, like he can’t help it, like it’s worth it to see your eyes light up. “It’s like the whole world is entirely different through your eyes. I can’t get enough of it. Why wouldn’t I listen to you talk? You’re everything to me.”
You fall silent. Conrad takes another sip of his coffee.
“For another thing,” You continue, ignoring that interjection as best as you can. “I’ve always thought you look so handsome. Like you’re very, um, attractive, and honestly so out of my league. I don’t even know how we’re having this conversation–”
“I just told you I think you’re beautiful.” Conrad can’t stop now. “I think you’re lovely, pretty, and smart, and a formidable young woman–”
“Really sounding like a father figure, now.”
“And you’re someone who I enjoy the company of, and I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re my best friend, I can’t imagine not being with you.” Conrad grabs your hand. “I want to be with you. I think I might be in love with you.”
“I,” You swallow, and Conrad watches as you breathe in, and out, and then– “I wore this dress for you. Honestly, it had nothing to do with dressing up for fun. I just wanted you to notice me.”
“I always notice you.” He says, but secretly he’s elated that you want him to find you attractive. That he’s allowed to do this.
“Even stupid things I do like blowing kisses at you?” You ask sheepishly. “I hoped I wasn’t being too obvious.”
“No, that I thought was just you being friendly.” Conrad grins as you laugh. “Really. I notice all the not-obvious things. Like how you bite your tongue when you’re thinking. Or when you start ranting about anything and your voice starts getting raspy, and you have to take gasps because the point is so important to you.”
“Oh.”
“And, even if I don’t notice it’s for me– I like the dress.” He takes a look as you feel your face warm. “It’s really… flattering.”
The lack of description stems from the fact that Conrad’s voice has suddenly gotten deeper and more husky. He notices the cleavage, the thin gold necklace lying against your collarbones. Places he wants to bury his face. He feels hot all over, like he wants to tear these clothes off and have you lie on top of him in this little dress.
It’s written all over his face, he knows, the way he’s staring at you, and you look just as ready as he does– your eyes are wide but excited, your breath is a bit heavier.
Oh, Conrad knows he’s in for it.
/
You’re walking back to his apartment together.
Conrad has already said a lot. Confessed how many times he came close to telling you the truth. And he enjoyed every time, how you laughed out loud, a strong cackle springing from your throat. He was ready to absolutely kiss you all over.
But Conrad is a gentleman, he’s not going to do it unless you want to.
You’re at his doorstep with him.
“Conrad?” You smile up at him, and he traces your cheek. “I might be in love with you, too.”
His stomach flip flops. He feels emotion welling up in his throat.
Conrad leans in as you push yourself upwards, and kisses you, a soft, warm embrace that fills him from head to toe, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he feels himself grip your waist tightly, as if his hands were made to be there.
You slip your tongue into his mouth and Conrad shudders, almost falling into you with how good it feels. You run your fingers through his hair, and he thinks, why are you so good at this? You’re taking him apart like he doesn’t know himself already– you gently trace the nape of his neck and he pants into your mouth, feeling like he’s about to finish right then and there.
He thinks two can play at that game, before kissing down your cheek, and throat, and into your chest, and then you squeak and he starts shaking with laughter, his face still there.
“Sorry.” He says, and then without a hint of apologeticness– Conrad picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, and kisses you again, far more harshly and needy this time, not nearly as gentle as before, until you whisper for him to open his apartment door.
He can’t wait to find out what makes you tick, too.
They are both in med school together and when she studies too much and she pass out so Conrad helps her
Pleaseeee
anon this made me sad yet it was nice to write <3
/
"It's just one exam."
Conrad's little mantra of this past week comes out of his mouth, again, as you're sitting with your laptop in Stanford's study area with him. It's autumn, and you're both decked out in sweaters and sweatpants, barely trying to look presentable.
It's 2 AM now. Luckily, Stanford tends to be a place where people are studying all the time- so no one seems to care that you're still awake.
"C'mon." Conrad pokes your hand, but you shove his hand away and continue to type your notes about cardiology. The final exam is two days away.
"No, Conrad." You shake your head, still typing and reading at the same time. "I do not want to fail this exam and then have to retake it, alright? I don't mind taking the extra time to ace it."
He pouts jokingly, but unbeknownst to you, Conrad's gaze turns more worrisome. "We've been in here for five straight hours. Don't you think it's time to take a break? I'm positive you're not gonna fail. Take a nap, at least?"
"No." You hiss back at him, and then his eyes widen at your tone, and you bite your tongue. "Sorry. I just feel really awake- it's a good time to use up this energy, you know?"
"I can think of another way you could use up-" Conrad barely finishes the sentence before you finish it for him.
"Haha. I get it, we could have intercourse." You interject, with a whisper of a smile, and Conrad breaks into a grin but lets it go.
"Not exactly what I was gonna say, but let it be known that I am not opposed." He taps the desk as you laugh dryly, wondering where the passionate, loving version of you had gone- even for a future doctor, you have never called sex or making love "intercourse" because that's just so clinical.
He doesn't like how wide your eyes are. How manic you seem to be, typing at a speed that feels unsteady, the dark circles under your eyes, the way how your lips are dry because you keep licking them. Your face is pallid and sweaty.
You keep scratching at your chest, too. Worrying away at something. Been doing so for the last few days.
Conrad might not be a doctor either, but he knows staying awake too long isn't always indicative of a boost of energy. In fact, he's pretty sure you're showing signs of insomnia.
Whether it's self-induced or because of something more concerning, he doesn't know.
"Hey. I was gonna suggest that you go on a walk." Conrad waves his hands in front of your eyes, and you tut, already having your mouth open for an excuse. "No, I'm serious. You're working yourself into a wreck- you need to work off some energy before you burn yourself out. Some time away from the screen could really help you re-focus, and help your eyes relax a little."
He normally loves your gaze, especially when you look up at him with fondness as if he's the only thing in the whole universe. Conrad can never get enough of your eyes. When they blink in frustration, when you're holding back tears, when they crinkle because you're smiling too hard- he loves it all.
Loves how you're just a real, living girl that he gets to love everyday.
But right now your eyes look dark, your pupils are dilated as you stare at the screen- you're so out of it. You're barely alive.
"I'm fine, Conrad." You insist, feeling a rush of energy that's suddenly accompanied by light-headedness. "Actually, could you get me a snack from the vending machine? I feel a little woozy."
Conrad opens his mouth, about to argue that you should really take a goddamn break now, but you raise your hand to shush him.
"Please, just one snack, one last paragraph, and then I'll sleep." You cross a heart over your chest.
"I'll get it if you tell me why you're taking Dr. Anderson's class so seriously." Conrad leans forward in his seat, while you lean back, sighing.
"I don't get along with him." You scratch at your chest again.
"What?" Conrad is unabashedly shocked, and you laugh helplessly at his response, knowing it was coming. "He's the nicest professor on campus- I'm not even joking, he even lets the shitty students float by. He always curves finals."
"Yeah, but." You bite your lip, while Conrad pulls your worrying hand away from your chest, and into his own. "But, he marked my last report really badly, Conrad. I got a 45%. And he wasn't nice about it when I asked for feedback, either."
"Oh." Conrad shakes his head. "Doesn't matter, it happens to all of us. You can't kill yourself over this exam to try and fix that, you know that."
"Yeah, but..." You sigh. "Listen, I'll never bring it up again- I just have to do this because I can't get less than a 75% in this class or it will absolutely fuck up my GPA, which then messes up my chances to get a residency, and then everything is gonna fucking suck."
"You're catastrophizing again." He mentions, and you glare at him somewhat jokingly. "I know, I know. Therapy talk. But listen- you're going to be fine. I already know you know your shit, we've gone over these notes countless times."
"Yeah, but on the off chance that-"
"That isn't gonna happen." Conrad says firmly, and you swallow. "I know you're gonna pass. You're gonna become a pediatrician just like you've always dreamed, okay? And I'm gonna be an oncologist, and we're gonna be eyeballs-deep in stress and horrible working hours soon enough. Don't work yourself to death right now when it's all gonna happen in the future. Okay?"
"Okay." You exhale finally, a gust of your breath blowing the front tendrils of your hair up, and he gets up, thumbs up as he starts walking out towards the vending machine.
"I love you. You're great." He murmurs as he walks away, and you say it back.
"Love you, too."
/
Conrad knows you like Snickers bars the most, the chewy nougat your favourite bit of the whole thing- but he can't in good conscience let you eat that right now.
No, you need something with slightly more nutritional value. So Conrad walks back with a cheese string, a juice box, and a container of cut-up fruit.
Stanford has the budget for expensive snacks.
You're lying against the table, head against your arms. Conrad winces- you must've just fallen asleep.
He shuts your laptop off and shakes your arm. "Hey. I got your snacks, but I think we should head back to the apartment."
"..." You don't respond.
Conrad shakes you again and again, but you're not even really stirring. He knows you- you don't fall asleep that quickly, not within two minutes just like that.
His pulse quickens. He shakes you a little harder just for good measure, and when you really don't move, he starts panicking.
Conrad gently-but-firmly takes your hood off, and places his fingers against your neck, feeling for your pulse. For one thing, you're too cold- nearly ice- and your heart has slowed to a nearly imperceptible beat.
One thing is for sure, you definitely didn't pass out of your own accord.
Conrad is genuinely terrified- but he doesn't have a speck of time to waste.
"Hello?" Conrad's dialled 911 and he's sweating but he refuses to let you get worse. "Yeah, my girlfriend- she's fainted and she's not getting back up. She's cold and her heartbeat is really slow."
/
As he waits for the ambulance, there's tons of potential causes that run through Conrad's mind.
The most obvious answer is just that she simply passed out from over-exertion, and this is her body trying to remedy itself. Conrad tells himself, but he can't stop freaking out.
He wants to bounce his ideas off of you of all people, which is why it's ridiculous that you're not here. How dare you not be awake to help him with your own medical issue? How could you not be here for even a moment and worry him so badly?
He knows it's silly to be mad. He's not mad at all, he just wants you back. He wants you okay.
Maybe she has anemia? The slow heartbeat could be a sign of heart failure?
He doesn't have time to think anymore when the paramedics are crowding into the library. Conrad helps lift you into the gurney- you're practically lifeless, it looks like- and he blinks back tears.
/
It's nice that they let him ride in the ambulance at least. Despite not being your direct family, the main EMT in charge allowed him in, and Conrad has spent the entire time holding your hand.
Why are you so cold?
What could've happened in the last hour that he could think about?
All Conrad knows is that you better not be terminally ill. Not because he won't take care of you every single day, but because he knows it will break his heart. Seeing you off like that.
He has the experience to know.
He closes his eyes, furrowing his brows. Better not to think of that yet.
/
In the hospital, you're checked out by a doctor and a nurse- they're not really sure what's wrong with you, either, having an inconclusive answer due to a lack of time in this state. You don't seem to be getting better or worse- but the lower heartrate is a concern.
"I'm sorry." The doctor tells Conrad, who's already getting dangerously irritated. "We're going to see if we should administer potassium and other electrolytes, to help with-"
"So you think she's having serious heart issues, then." Conrad blinks, his medical knowledge coming in handy, and the doctor nods, mildly surprised.
"She's got a blotchy area on her left breast- that's often a sign of discomfort due to heart pains." The doctor grimaces and then has a tentative smile. "I suggest waiting for a while outside."
Conrad doesn't want to leave you, but he trusts medicine. He has to- it would make his entire time at school pointless otherwise.
/
Sitting in the waiting room, now it's Conrad who doesn't feel tired at all. It's 3:50 AM, and he has never felt more awake.
Why is he such a fucking idiot? He can't even tell what's wrong with you. Sure, he's not a doctor yet but he feels so useless.
Conrad accidentally knocks your bag over with the swing of his feet. He brought it with him so as not to leave it in the library, and just in case you came to and needed your things.
Your water bottle falls out of its pocket and hits the ground with a very heavy clang. Conrad thinks that's a bit weird, that you'd have a nearly full water bottle this late at night-
He realizes he hasn't seen you drink water in a while. Actually, the last three days, you didn't seem to drink any water or really eat anything. Why didn't he remind you to drink more water?
Conrad gets up and races into your room. Incredibly unprofessional, by the apprehensive look on the doctor's face, but he doesn't care.
"She's dehydrated." Conrad says in a breathless rush. "She must be, I haven't seen her drink water in the last few days and she's barely been sleeping, or eating, too, and she's been working herself into a rut with her exam coming up, that's why she's been rubbing at her chest."
"Okay." The doctor hears him out with a little smile of his own- he doesn't seem angry, maybe used to the fact that . "Smaller steps should be the way, anyways. Let's put in an IV."
Conrad gets to sit in your room after they've done it, and hopes to God that he's right.
Your chest rises and falls as you rest- he thinks maybe he even sees a bit of colour coming back into your skin.
/
Early in the morning, a few hours later, you awaken.
Conrad is just resting on the bedside chair, but your raspy voice jolts him awake.
"Conrad..." You utter, stirring gently, but he's up already, at your side, holding your hand.
"I'm here. Yeah?" He lightly traces your knuckles with his thumb, and you blink a few times, processing that you're in a hospital bed. Your hair and skin feel a bit sweaty.
There's an IV drip embedded in your arm.
You stare at it, almost in slow motion, and Conrad can see you mustering up a thought.
"What the hell happened?" You inquire, much more loudly than you intended, and you blink in surprise at your voice. "Whoa."
"Um, you passed out last night." He watches as you think that over. "Do you remember? I went to go get snacks- and when I came back, you were out of it. Couldn't wake you up, so I called emergency services."
"Oh my god." You look at him, fearing the worst, and Conrad wants so badly to hug you tightly.
He settles for sitting on the bed, still holding your hand firmly.
"They thought you might have been having heart pains, heart tremors, maybe something else." He replies, and you're about to make a snarky comment. "I know, I know. What are the chances that the topic you're studying are what's fucking with you?"
"Fuck cardiology." You mutter, and Conrad stifles a laugh.
He can see you're coming back to normal, a little bit, now. No longer under the curse of studying.
"But what did they end up discovering?" You ask, and Conrad balks on whether or not he should tell you that it was him who correctly identified your problem, as the nurse told him an hour ago.
"Uh, just that you're wildly dehydrated and your water intake was low enough that your body was down like 4% of the appropriate amount of water." Conrad answers, and you frown. "You passed out because you were running on so little- and the emotional imbalance probably didn't help, either."
"But I always have my water with me." You cross your arms, and Conrad grimaces.
"I don't think you were drinking it, though. Your water bottle was full when I brought it here." He points to your bag in the corner of the room. "I should've been reminding you."
"Conrad, come on." You roll your eyes at that. "I know you think you gotta take care of me all the time- and it's really sweet, and I appreciate that- but you're not responsible for me. I should've just drank water instead of being such a fucking toddler."
"But you were so stressed, of course you wouldn't have done that." Conrad reminds you. "I don't think you were in your right mind for a bit- and I should've tried harder to stop you from hurting yourself."
"It's okay, not your fault." You try, and Conrad's face falters a bit. "Aw, Connie..."
You sit up, and Conrad hugs you tightly, arms wrapping around your back, while you envelop yours around his neck, burying your face into it. Smelling him, remembering him, knowing that he is always going to be there for you.
As steady as the floor beneath you.
He's always been a little more emotional. Easier for him to get misty eyed. But you feel so guilty that you weren't listening to him. Letting it get to this point.
Sure, you're not dying, but you hate to worry him. He's always been a bit bad at saying what he means, what he needs- not wanting to worry others, putting them above himself at any cost.
"I'm sorry." You start, pulling away. "I should've heard you out. I didn't give you room to talk. I don't know how much harder you could've tried, but I should've stopped you by just listening. So you wouldn't worry so much."
"It's okay." Conrad insists, and he touches your shoulder. Then points to where that blotchy area should be, on your chest, under your sweater. "Can I take a look at where you've been scratching yourself? The doctor said that's what made him think of heart pains- but I know you were just stressed."
"Trying to get a look at my chest, I see." You raise your eyebrows at him, and he jokingly takes a gander, as if there's anything to see while your sweater's on.
You pull down your neckline. Sure enough, there's a red rash-looking area where you have kept scratching and itching.
Conrad's eyes widen. He traces the edge of the mark you've left there, hyper-focused, while you stare down at the bed, feeling his thumb pause right over you,
"Sorry, it's nothing that bad." You swear, knowing that he's going to beat himself up even more. "I just couldn't- I felt kinda trapped, Conrad, like I couldn't get out of this without hurting on the inside. It was like..."
"Your chest was physically hurting, if you didn't do it?" He asks, and his eyes blink bright and blue, determined again.
You nod, a little unsure, but glad he gets it. "Yeah."
"Yeah. I know the feeling." He kind of laughs for a second and then stills, twisting his mouth. "A year ago, that's how I felt when I was debating whether or not to tell you I loved you."
"Really? Impending doom, fear of losing it all?" You're only half-surprised. "I guess you've always been a worrywart."
"Yeah, I thought I was going to lose you as a friend. But I also knew I would never get rid of that feeling until I told you. I think we both need to learn to just let go." Conrad says, and you feel a bit less alone now.
He was always willing to be there for you, you knew that. Conrad was never going to let you do these things alone.
"So you feel better, right?" Conrad asks. "You still gotta be in for the day but it might be necessary rest, in any case."
"Never been better, Conrad." You smile, and he's glad to see that there's light in your eyes again. That this stupid exam isn't holding you down anymore.
You kiss his cheek, and he smiles fondly, eyes fluttering at you, and then he kisses your forehead, and now you kiss his lips, hoping that you can return the favor of care someday.
a Conrad fisher x reader story where like Conrads sick with the flu or smth and readers taking care of him
✦ conrad fisher x gf!fem!reader ✦ hurt/comfort. 0,4k. heyy i already miss our man, so i hope you like it. main masterlist.
Conrad swore he was fine.
When you came into the beach house that afternoon, you found him on the couch, hoodie pulled over his head, eyes glued to the muted TV. His lips were pale, his skin flushed, and he looked…off.
“Conrad?” you asked carefully.
He glanced up, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Hey. You’re home early.” His voice was rougher than usual, a little strained, like he’d swallowed gravel.
You dropped your bag by the door and crossed the room in seconds. “You’re sick.”
“I’m not—” He tried to protest, but a cough cut him off, and he winced, dragging the hood lower over his forehead like maybe he could vanish under it. “It’s just a little cold. Don’t want you worrying.”
You knelt beside the couch and pressed a hand to his forehead. Burning. “You’re lying.”
He blinked at you, eyes flickering with that familiar mix of stubborn pride and something softer. “I didn’t want to bother you,” he murmured. “You always have…so much to do.”
“You’re not a bother,” you said firmly. “Come on. You’re staying right here while I take care of you.”
He groaned but let you tug the blanket tighter around him. You set the kettle on the stove, warming water for tea, then disappeared to heat up soup. When you returned, he was still curled on the couch, hoodie sticking out under a heap of blankets, a book abandoned on his chest.
“Sit up,” you instructed, adjusting pillows behind his back. “Soup.”
“I can…feed myself,” he mumbled, weak and stubborn.
“Not today,” you replied, holding the spoon to his lips. “You’re sick, baby. Let me do this.”
He let you, leaning back into the pillows with a quiet surrender. Every spoonful was slow and deliberate, as if he were savoring both the food and the care. You brushed a stray curl off his forehead, and he shivered at your touch, eyes closing briefly.
“You’re too good at this,” he whispered, voice hoarse.
“You mean taking care of you? I know.” You smirked softly. “It’s kind of my specialty.”
A small, tired laugh escaped him, and you grinned. He leaned his head against your shoulder as you sat on the floor beside the couch, running your hand through his hair. “You’re warm,” he murmured.
“And you’re sick,” you said, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Which means you’re staying right here. No moving until you feel human again.”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he let himself be held, letting the quiet domestic rhythm of home wash over him: the soft hum of the kettle, the faint scent of soup, and the steady warmth of your hand in his.
Eventually, he drifted off, breathing shallow but steady. You tucked the blanket snugly around him, murmuring, “I’ll always take care of you, Conrad. You don’t have to hide from me.”
Even in sleep, he squeezed your hand—a quiet acknowledgment that, for once, he didn’t have to.
