#self insert fluff

He reached his arm out to rub your thigh. "Anything, seriously. You don't need to worry. She'd adore you even if you showed up in a clown costume. And so would I, for what it's worth."

A short laugh escaped from your mouth. "How romantic."

"I thought so."

You leaned forward to kiss him chastely, pulling back with a grin before you could get even more distracted. "Okay." You said, standing back up and returning to the mirror. Head cocked, you surveyed your options once more. You reached for the discarded clothing, sifting through until you found a blue linen skirt and white top, opaque enough that no more than a hint of your bikini peeked through. "Okay," you repeated, once you had it all on. "How's this?"

"Perfect." Conrad said dutifully, and you saw the bed dip in the mirror as he hoisted himself up. "You look absolutely beautiful." He came up behind you, resting his chin atop your head and curling a hand around your hip.

"We look pretty good together." You mused.

"All thanks to you." He winked. Of course, you would say the same to him. Conrad looked as gorgeous as always: sandy hair perfectly tousled, seaglass eyes bright and clear, t-shirt perfectly fitted against his strong arms. You gazed at each other for a moment, and then Conrad kissed you on the cheek. "Ready to go?" With just a few last touches you were, and you slid your sunglasses on as you hopped into Conrad's front seat.

"Let's do it."

The radio was playing Taylor Swift when your turned it on, and this helped you keep your nerves in check on the short drive over. However, as soon as you began approaching the driveway, they hit in full force. It didn’t feel like butterflies in your stomach - it felt like you had swallowed a pound of stones, one dropping down after the other. You pressed lightly on your abdomen and exhaled slowly as Conrad parked the car and swiveled to face you.

"You ok?"

"A little bit terrified," you admitted, avoiding eye contact. You knew how much Conrad loved his mom and respected her opinion. What if she hated you and he broke it off? What if she was indifferent and so he kept you around but it was never the same, and it fizzled out? What if, what if, what if.

"Hey," Conrad said softly. When you still wouldn't look at him, he put a hand under your chin and gently angled your face in his direction. You were relieved to see his expression was earnest. "I told you," he promised soothingly. "My mom is going to love you. You're kind, and generous, and smart, and funny, and beautiful, and she sees how unbelievably happy you make me." He was so sweet and sincere that you had to blink away a few rising tears, bowing your head ever-so slightly to rest in his cupped hand.

“But what if she doesn’t?” You breathed, barely audible.

Conrad’s thumb stroked your jaw delicately. “If, for some extraordinary reason, like that she’s been replaced by an alien, if she doesn’t like you, then she’ll learn to like you. I wouldn’t stop being with you.”

Maybe it was silly, but the reassurance calmed you instantly. You could feel your shoulders lower, your jaw unclench. "I'm so lucky I found you." You marveled in a whisper, and Conrad's face split into a grin. Right then, before you could kiss him like you so badly wanted to, you were quite rudely interrupted by a car behind you slamming on the horn thrice in quick succession. As you stepped out of the car, you saw that it was Jeremiah and Steven, each carrying two large bags of ice.

"Hey!" Steven shouted in greeting. You said your hellos as they approached, and the four of you began moving together towards the front entrance.

"My mom's been talking about you all morning." Jeremiah informed you as you climbed the steps. "She can't wait to finally meet you."

"I'm not quite sure if that makes me more nervous or less." You said, but you didn't have time to consider it before the door was swinging open in front of you. Steven and Jeremiah stomped right in, bringing the ice through the kitchen, but you hesitated inside the doorframe. Conrad put a reassuring hand to the small of your back just as Susannah came rushing down the hall.

"You're here!" She squealed. "Oh my God, I am so glad you were able to join us today!" You’d seen pictures, of course, but there was something about Susannah’s beauty that was so specific to her livelihood. Maybe it was the unabashed crinkle by her eyes when she smiled, or the unbridled glee in her voice. Whatever it was, you could already feel the contagion of her energy spreading into your frozen limbs.

"Thank you so much for having me!" You gushed. “It's such a pleasure to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," Susannah said. "I'm a hugger. Are you a hugger?"

You were able to get out a "Yeah, sure," before Susannah was sweeping you into her arms and squeezing gently. She smelled classy but sweet, expensive but still young and fresh.

"Please, please, come in." She said, ushering you forward once her arms were withdrawn. "We have plenty to eat and drink, make yourself comfortable." Conrad was trailing slightly behind, a clearly amused grin on his lips.

This wasn't your first time in the house, but you were still awestruck by its beauty, especially now that it was filled with the sights and scents of Susannah's party prep. "Wow," you said, surveying the table of food. You had wanted to bring something, but Conrad was adamant that it wasn’t necessary, and he turned out to be correct. You couldn’t think of a single food or drink that wasn’t already laid out. There were even a few unfinished items still on the counter: a half-frosted cake, some freshly washed berries in their plastic clamshells, an open bottle of wine. "Is there anything I can help with?"

"Not at all, but I love you for asking." Susannah said breezily. "Connie, though, will you go help Steven and your brother break up the ice for the drinks?" He nodded, squeezing your waist and shooting you an encouraging smile before heading out to the back deck.

You observed Susannah for a moment as she picked up a knife and smothered it in frosting. "Conrad told me this was your favorite holiday, but I wasn't expecting all this...it's very impressive."

"Oh," Susannah said, touching a hand to her collarbone. "I love to do all of this, you know?" You nodded, watching her resume her cake decoration. "Conrad told me quite a lot about you." she said. "I hear you're staying in New England for school next year?"

"Yep," you confirmed, filling her in on the details: your school, your major, the reason you decided to attend. After your last point, she chimed in.

"And it's not too far from Brown."

"No," you laughed. "Not too far at all." Her smile wasn't at all subtle, but you took this as a good sign. "If I get my way, I'll be spending a good amount of time down in Providence." Susannah's smile grew just a bit wider.

You didn’t know what to say next and Susannah seemed content to focus on her cake. Did she think this was awkward? You wondered. Or was she comfortable with the silence? You cleared your throat, willing yourself to think of something, anything, to talk about.

"I'd love to hear more about the charity you're involved with." You landed on. "I'm really passionate about women's rights; I volunteer at a Planned Parenthood back home."

"That's wonderful." Susannah said. "You kids really are the future." She swept up the conversation from there, wanting to learn more about your experience and considering it against her own at the shelter.

It only took about ten minutes total before the boys came back in, but in that time, you moved on to tell Susannah about your family, your friends your summer plans, your hobbies, and more. She had an uncanny way of getting you to speak without asking too many questions, and she listened intently to every answer.

"How's it going in here?" Conrad asked, coming up to the counter beside you. You had just finished regaling Susannah with the story of how you tried to learn to surf last summer.

"Good," you said, trying to convey your excitement and relief through your eyes without embarrassing yourself in front of Susannah.

"Fantastic." Susannah agreed. "I can certainly see why the two of you get along so well." Under the lip of the counter, Conrad squeezed your hand.

"Belly just came out," Conrad said to you. "Do you wanna head outside, and I'll come meet you in a minute?" You knew that he wanted to get his mother’s unfiltered opinion, and as anxious as you were, you wanted to know to. So you agreed, excusing yourself and stepping out. Just as you did, your sandal came undone and you knelt on the deck to fix it. You really, truly had no intention of eavesdropping; the doors were fully closed, but an open window above you carried Susannah and Conrad's voices out to you.

"She's lovely," Susannah said, and you didn't know her well enough yet, but she sounded genuine to you. "Just as sweet and bright as you described her." Conrad murmured something a bit too low for you to make out, but based on his mother's reaction, it had to be good. “She’s good for you. I like the way you’re smiling around her. I feel like I haven’t seen that in a while.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I don’t know, I just feel, like, lighter, or something. Like I don’t have to think so hard, I can just…be.”

“Someone who gets Conrad out of his own head.” Susannah mused. “Isn’t that something.” They were both quiet for a beat before she spoke again. "You really like her." It was less of a question, more of a confirmation.

"I really, really do." He said. "Mom, I think…I think I love her."

"Oh, Connie." Susannah cooed. Your shoe was fixed now and your heart was beating too erratically to stay so close. As you stood to inch away, you could see Susannah cupping Conrad's cheek in her palm, her adoring face matching his beaming one.

You felt...fuzzy, almost, like you were covered in something soft and warm and safe. He loved you. Conrad Fisher loved you. And you loved him back. How rare, how fortuitous, was that? It didn't matter that he hadn't said it to you yet. It didn’t matter that he said “I think.” It was enough to know it was there, that the seed was planted and growing. You could be patient and soon enough you would see it’s spectacular bloom.

The revelation was so all-encompassing that you nearly tripped on your own feet as you approached the small group of kids who had arrived, other friends of the Conklins and Fishers. "Did someone have too much to drink already?" Belly teased, coming forward to give you a hug.

You laughed, squeezing her back. "Nah, too early for me." You said. "I'm just a natural klutz." You settled in and began chatting, trying to fight the urge to crane your neck every thirty seconds to see if Conrad was coming. Thankfully, it was only a few minutes before he showed up, gesturing for you to step away with a jerk of his neck. He was holding a frozen red drink in each hand, a margarita from the looks of it, one of which he offered to you as you got closer. You thanked him and the two of you wandered over to sit on a bench.

"So," he said before taking a long sip of his drink. He swallowed and looked off thoughtfully, drawing it out to raise your anticipation.

"Conrad!" You swatted at him. "Just tell me if I passed the test." You knew what you had heard, but what if you misconstrued part of it? You couldn't read their faces or body language. You didn't know Susannah's tones. You had no clue what they said after you walked away.

Conrad grinned, extending an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer into his side. "Oh, with flying colors." He said, and you buried your face into his chest, both relieved and ecstatic. "You aced it. She thinks you're amazing. She wanted to know if you'll come back tomorrow night for dinner." His hand drifted to your back to rub soothingly along your spine, dipping down just under the waistband of your skirt and trailing back up again.

"Thank God." You muttered into his shirt. You breathed in his scent, laundry detergent and cologne and a hint of sweat, before lifting your chin towards him. "Yes, of course. I would love to." He dropped his forehead to you and let the tip of his nose brush against yours. He was thrilled, too; it was apparent in his dancing eyes, even as they were half-hidden behind his ruffled hair. "Wow," you breathed, mouth practically meeting his. "I can't believe after all that build up, I can finally just relax."

He kissed you then, cutting off the end of your sentence by parting your lips with his own. He traced your bottom lip with his tongue, slowly, before nipping at it with his front teeth, and you keened.

You’d had a wonderful day together, a day that reminded you of simpler times. When you’d slept in too late on his rare day off, Jeremiah had taken it upon himself to rouse you for some one-on-one time. Normally, a man jumping onto your sleeping body would horrify you, but when you wrenched your eyes open to his goofy smile, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Get up!” He ordered, rolling off to rest beside you. “It’s already 10:00 and you promised you’d be up early.”

“This is early for me!” You protested, but he slapped a hand over your mouth before you could continue.

“Nope.” He shook his head, mop of hair flying every which way. “I don’t want to hear it. Up and at ‘em!” With that, he bounced off the bed, gripping your hand to pull you with him.

“Fine, fine,” you said, instinctively draping an arm across your chest. Clad only in a tank top and shorts, you didn’t know how much he could see, but the movement only served to draw his eyesight downwards. His gaze rested for a beat before he tilted his chin back up, flushing slightly.

“If you’re not out of here in five minutes, I’m coming back for you. And I won’t be so nice next time.” The threat was lost in the apples of his smile and shine in his eyes. For a long moment you watched the space he left behind as he shut the door, nearly trance-like, and then snapped to attention.

You made it out into the kitchen just before the five minute mark, hair loose and face bare. Jeremiah pushed a mug of coffee your way, just the right shade, and with it came his soft, glowing smile. You gazed at him over the rim as you took your first sip, heart skipping a beat when he caught your eye. Neither of you looked away until the distraction caught up with you, and a small stream of coffee dripped down the front of your shirt.

“Shit,” Jeremiah blurted, noticing it first. You glanced down as he grabbed a stack of napkins, pressing them to the front of the top. It was beyond salvage; it would need to go directly into the laundry bin, but he held the wad there anyway, dabbing gently almost directly above your heart. The coffee had already settled into the fabric and the napkins were having no effect, but ever determined, Jeremiah wouldn’t give up.

“Jere, it’s fine.” You said. “I’ll just change.” The truth was, it was dizzying being so close to him and being the focus of his undivided attention. Your knees were practically trembling at the prolonged feel of his large hands on your chest and his breath hot against your collarbone. Finally he listened and took a step back, lips screwed together, allowing you to retreat in search of a new shirt.

Once behind your closed door, you allowed yourself a moment to close your eyes and take a deep breath. Of course you had been physically close with Jeremiah before. But your vantage point of the top of his head bent over your neck, and his gaze and fingers on your breastbone, had your nipples hard and your mind racing with explicit thoughts. Your exhale was shaky, the image of his kaleidoscope eyes burning into your mind. “Okay.” You whispered, forcing yourself out of your reverie. You changed swiftly, grabbing a random t-shirt out of your overflowing drawer and replacing the soiled tank top. Without so much as a glance in the mirror, you headed back into the kitchen to meet Jeremiah, who had poured your coffee in a to-go cup while he waited.

His arm was half-outstretched but he made no move to hand it over as you approached, instead gazing at you with an almost imperceptible smirk.

“What?” You asked finally, reaching out to snatch the cup. “Did I spill on this one, too?”

“No,” he said, amused. “I was just wondering where that shirt had gone.” You cocked your head and pulled the fabric out to see it better, only to immediately realize that the shirt wasn’t yours. It was, in fact, Jeremiah’s, his high school logo emblazoned in crackling print on the well-worn cotton.

“Oh,” you blushed. “Sorry, I didn’t even realize.” You had been borrowing from Jeremiah’s closet for years, everything from shirts and jackets to hats and sunglasses, but this was the first time that he had looked at you like this while you wore his clothes - as far as you knew, anyway. A wave of heat flooded through you under his gaze, which traced the curves of your body even through the oversized shirt. He looked almost proud to see you wearing it, his expression admiring.

“All good.” He said, grabbing the car keys from the counter and moving toward the front of the house. He brushed into you along the way, his sinewy chest smoothing along your shoulders as he stepped behind you. “It looks better on you.” With a wink, he propped open the door and ushered you through.

You drifted to the Jeep in a haze, only the slam of the car door bringing you back to earth. It was times like these exactly that had you so messed up over him, but you bit your tongue as he shifted into drive.

Everything about the car ride was normal; Jeremiah queued up his summer playlist, to which you both shout-sang along. This earned you plenty of stares from pedestrians along the road, but they only fueled your energy. By the time you pulled into a spot at the diner, you were both cracking up.

"Did you see the two girls with the dog?" You gasped, setting off a fresh round of laughter.

"They looked like they were going to pop our tires!" He whooped. Your shoulders continued to shake with giggles as the two of your slid into your usual booth. You loved these moments, when just looking at each other was enough to make you both giddy. But your joyful mood was cut short when the waitress sidled up.

She was new, clearly - Heather, according to her nametag - you had been coming here at least once a week this summer alone, but had never seen her before. And you knew you would've remembered her. Unfortunately, so would have Jeremiah: his eyebrows raised suggestively as his gaze traveled up her very long, very tan legs to her very, very pretty face.

Of course. You thought to yourself. I was getting a little too confident there, wasn't I? Just had to be knocked back down a peg?

At least you were spared from having to watch them flirt, as Jeremiah rattled off both of your orders with ease. It was a little uncharacteristic of him; normally, he'd draw out the conversation as long as needed no matter who he was with (seriously, you'd seen him flirt recklessly in front of Susannah too many times to count). But you weren't certainly weren't going to complain.

Conversation flowed as you ate, spearing forkfuls from each other's plates without bothering to ask. You were comfortable and unselfconscious around him, not afraid to take big bites or accidentally chew with your mouth open. After all this time, he'd seen you at your worst and had never been scared away.

When the check came, you were unsurprised to see a scrawl of red-ink numbers across the top, signed with a bubbly heart and the letter 'H'. Your fingers itched to shred the paper, but you tapped them deliberately against the table before reaching into your bag. Across the table, Jeremiah counted out the bills and set them down.

"But you paid last time," you said, open wallet in front of you. "It's my turn."

Jeremiah just shrugged, flashing you that sunny smile. "Don't worry about it."

After a moment's hesitation, you stuck your wallet back into your bag. "Thanks, Jere."

"Anytime," he said, holding out a crooked arm for you to take in a show of over-the-top gentlemanly behavior. You rolled your eyes but slipped your arm through anyway and allowed him to lead you out. You were both relieved and perplexed to see that the receipt was still lying on the sticky table, phone number unacknowledged.

You were still pondering this half an hour later, lying on your outstretched towel. Jeremiah never passed up on the opportunity to get a cute girl or guy's phone number. He hadn't taken out his phone to put it in or snap a picture, and there was no way he memorized the sequence. He just didn't take it. Was he not interested in Heather? He obviously found her attractive, so what possible reason was there not to follow through? Did he have feelings for someone else?

You racked your brain, trying to fathom who it might be. Jeremiah always had hordes of admirers, boys and girls from Boston and Cousins alike fawning over him, and he usually reciprocated. Yet, no matter how hard you thought, you couldn't recall him mentioning one name so far that summer. You couldn't remember him even kissing anyone at a party. What did that mean?

Your heart was racing almost as quickly as your mind, but you tried to talk yourself down. Maybe he just hadn't mentioned the person to you. Maybe he wasn't interested in anyone at all right now. Maybe Heather wasn't even that pretty, you had just been clouded by jealousy. But maybe, just maybe, it was you.

There was no time to think further on this; Jeremiah was running up from the water until he got close enough to shake droplets onto you until you squealed and chased him back in.

Now, hours later, you were both exhausted from swimming and sunbathing, and your thoughts were beginning to venture down that path. The beach had cleared out considerably. When you tilted your head to the side, Jeremiah was the only person in sight.

He looked radiant bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Strands of messy hair shone and his bronzed skin glowed, but more than anything, it was those eyes that got you. Bluer than the water but just as deep, you could get lost in them forever. He was so, so beautiful, and you felt a twinge in your stomach thinking about how many people probably felt this way about him. Talk of the town, Jeremiah Fisher; he was a work of art deserving of a public audience, but you wanted him all to yourself. And you wanted him to feel the same about you. Sometimes, like now, you let yourself think that maybe he did. You’d never been brave enough to find out, but you didn’t know how much longer you could let this fire consume you in silence.

You swallowed hard and closed your eyes tightly, just for a moment, before turning in the sand so that you were face-to-face with Jeremiah. He gazed at you patiently, scanning your sun-kissed face as he waited for you to speak. He could see a question in your eyes, but didn’t want to rush you.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” You finally asked, barely a whisper. If he was surprised by the question, it didn’t show.

“I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.” The response was so immediate that you couldn’t help but exhale a laugh. You didn’t want him to say what he thought you wanted to hear. You wanted to know the truth.

You sighed, hugging your knees to your chest and resting your cheek atop them. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he murmured, and you looked up to meet his eyes, seemingly earnest. His brow furrowed slightly, as though it pained him that you would doubt this. “From the day I met you, I’ve thought you were perfect.” After a beat of hesitation, he added, “ask any of the others, they know.”

You could’ve lightened the mood and teased him there, cockily asked how often he talked about you. You could’ve guided the conversation into familiar territory, the boisterous flirting whose root you could never determine. But you couldn’t find it in you. Something inside you was aching to be vulnerable with him.

“Have you ever,” You started, stopping to swallow, work up your courage. You tilted your head back up so that your chin was propped up on your knees. There was barely any distance between the two of you; you could feel the energy coming from his body as he reached his arm out to you, stroking your windswept hair back behind your ear encouragingly. His hand lingered, cradling your cheek. The gesture was intimate and sweet and sent a spark through your stomach in a way that gave you the push you needed. “Have you ever thought about what it would be like,” You continued, your voice becoming quieter as you reached the end of your question. “What it would be like if we...if we were together?”

Jeremiah’s thumb rubbed against your jawline as you spoke, movements dwindling as you finished speaking. For a brief, terrifying moment, you thought he would pull away in disgust. But his hand remained in place, and though you were too scared to look at him, you could feel his eyes on you.

“Of course I have.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you lifted your gaze slowly to meet his shining eyes. “Jere,” you whispered.

“Every time you fall asleep with me, in my bed. Every time you sit in my lap. Every time you flirt with someone else. Every time you jump in the pool, or sing in the car, or so much as fucking smile at me, I feel like I can’t breathe because of how badly I want to kiss you.”

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “Say something.” He whispered. Instead, you uncurled yourself from the ball you were in so that you could lean into him slowly. Words weren’t necessary.

The kiss was soft and hesitant, and maybe a bit awkward, because though this was neither of your first kiss, it was your first together and maybe the first for either of you that had ever truly meant something. His mouth lingered against yours even after your lips had stopped moving. Jeremiah pulled away just enough to see your face, surely flushed, to make sure you were okay with it. But when he inched back, you followed him, aching to kiss him again for real.

This time, you were more sure of yourselves, eager and intense, his hand clasping the nape of your neck. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?” Jeremiah asked when you separated to catch your breath.

“Probably as long as I have,” you admitted, resting your hand on his knee. He immediately covered your fingers with his own, squeezing lightly. Your entire body was buzzing with adrenaline and pure happiness, but there was an unspoken question hanging between the two of you.

“What now?” You asked quietly, biting the bullet. “Do you want…does this change everything?”

He tried to cover it up, but you could see his face fall in response, and you immediately regretted your tone. “It doesn’t have to,” he hedged.

“No,” You interjected. “No, I want it to.” You blushed, cutting yourself off. “I mean,” You paused, running your hands through your hair. “I want to be with you, Jeremiah. I have for a long time.”

The relief in his soft smile was palpable, and your heart swelled, warming you from the inside out. “Me, too,” he said. “I want this. I want you.”

This was it, the words you had wanted for so long to hear, and it felt even better than you could imagine. Any lingering doubt was gone, erased by his lips on yours.

“Okay,” You said, matching his grin. You sat like that for a moment, smiling stupidly at each other like a scene straight out of a romcom before he tilted his face forward to kiss you again. With one hand you stroked the hair at the base of his skull, and you placed the other on his thigh to use as leverage as you leaned in deeper towards him. His fingers threaded through yours.

“Stay with me tonight?” He asked hopefully, keeping your foreheads pressed together even as your lips separated. “We don’t have to do anything. I just want to be with you.”