summary:you misjudged you and connors relationship
warning(s):none I think??, NOT proofread
a/n:im gonna post another fic on friday, not apart of the series, it will be my last one till 11/30!!!
series masterlist
I didn’t mean to fall for him.
I didn’t mean to let something simple turn into something I couldn’t handle.
It started on a day I almost didn’t show up, a charity even my team signed me up after my album hit number one. Hockey, of all things. I rolled my eyes at the invite, thinking I’d only stay for an hour, smile for the cameras, then leave.
Then I saw him.
Connor Bedard, everyone’s favorite player. He was chaos and calm all at once. Skating lazy circled around the rink while fans pressed against the glass, blonde hair falling into his eyes, grinning like he didn’t know he was famous.
He’d come up to me after the event, causally leaning on his stick.
“Never thought such a famous pop star here.”
I smirked. “Never thought I’d see such a famous hockey player with eyeliner smudged on his cheek.”
He laughed. “War paint. Not makeup.”
“Whatever,” I teased.
That’s how it started, playful, fun, unexpected.
We started seeing each other quietly.
He’d come over to my shows in baseball caps, sitting in the back.
I’d sneak into his away games wearing his team hoodie.
We made sense, at least we wanted to.
He grounded me.
I brought him life.
He’d somehow make breakfast when I came off a red-eye flight.
I’d stay up late to watch his late-night interviews, texting him half-asleep.
We always talked about dreams, fame.
Connor told me, “Sometimes I wish I could just turn it off.”
I’d laugh at him, “I’d actually like that.”
When my second album dropped, my world went crazy.
I was everywhere, magazine covers, late-night shows, billboard everywhere.
Connor was in big arenas, the kind where fans waited in the cold for autographs.
He started missing more of my shows, saying he was tired.
I started to feel guilty for wanting more, more of his time, more of him.
One night, during a break in my tour, I flew out to see him. No cameras, no warning.
I found him outside the rink, standing around with his teammates, laughing.
But there was a girl next to him, someone very familiar, maybe the coach’s daughter, leaning close and laughing too.
It wasn’t betrayal.
Instead, it was normal.
When he finally saw me, he froze.
“Y/n, what are you doing here?’’
I swallowed. “I thought I’d surprise you.”
His teammates went quiet. The silence stretched too long.
Later, we sat in his car, silence loud.
“I didn’t mean for you to see that,’’ he finally said.
I laughed, bitter. “It’s fine. Just you being you.”
He frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means…I keep thinking we’re the same, which we’re not.”
He reached for my hand, but I pulled back.
“You hate the spotlight,” I said softly. “You hate how loud my life is. You hate when fans take pictures of us.”
He shook his head. “That’s not true.”
“Yea it is.” My voice getting louder. “Because all I’m trying to do is build a life out of all of this, and you keep trying to make it quiet.”
He sighed. “I just want something…real.”
“I am real,” I whispered. “I just have a different life than you thought I did.”
I left without another word.
On the flight home, I opened my notes app and started writing.
When the album came out three months later, I didn’t tell Connor.
But he knew.
The first time he heard “we’re not alike”, he pulled his car over and just listened.
He could picture me, eyes closed, microphone in hand, heart wide open.
Meanwhile, I stood under the bright lights of my sold out show, singing the song.
The crowd screamed every lyric back at me.
After the show, I opened my phone.
One new message.
You were right. We were never the same.
I stared at it for a long moment, then smiled, soft, sad, and finally at peace.
bella thought it was just a regular blackhawks game, but what happens when she leaves the game with the star player?
OR
connor thought it was a normal game day, but what happens when a pretty girl in the crowd catches his attention?
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word count: 1.3k
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“come on, we have to hurry! i need to get a good spot,” i yell at my friend as we’re running around united center.
jade was never big into hockey, but came along to games with me whenever i got tickets. she understood the game enough to watch, cheer, and listen to my rants about the games and players. she also knew there was a specific player i never shut up about.
“relax bella, we’ll get a good spot and he’ll love your sign.” jade called out over the crowds as we walked down the hall to the ice.
i found the perfect spot for warmups, knowing that was where he spent most of his time while on the ice. putting my stuff on the chair behind me, i grabbed my phone to look at the time. i still had ten minutes before the players came out.
i grabbed my sign to make sure it looked okay, for the hundredth time that night, “it looks good. hopefully they’re in a good mood tonight.”
“i know, i know. i’m just nervous.” i sighed, hoping my sign would catch his eye.
i opened my phone and scrolled through twitter, hoping it would clear my mind. it was my first warmup with a sign and i wanted it to go well.
when the timer on the jumbotron hit zero, i grabbed my phone and set up my sign. watching as all the players skated out, i felt my heart race when he stepped out.
immediately, he came over to my side of the ice. even though i knew it was going to happen, my hands were still shaking as i tried to steady my phone for the video i was attempting to record.
he kept skating past and smiling at me.
as i was recording a video of another player, lukas reichal, he interrupted it by bumping the glass right in front of me. i was still calming down when he laughed at me for jumping.
after losing track of how many shots he tried making, he came over to me with a puck and a big smile. he pointed at me before throwing the puck over. failing once.. twice… three times it took him to get the puck over to me.
“oh. my. GOD.” i screamed at my best friend after he skated away.
“you just got a puck from connor bedard!” she yelled back as i jumped, watching her end the video she was recording, “he’s coming back, calm down, calm down.”
he pointed at me again and started pointing at my phone.
“is he telling me to grab my phone?” i turn and ask jade.
after i grab my phone he starts putting up numbers on his hands. is this kid actually giving me a number? he’s gotta be kidding. right?
i put the numbers into my messages and turned my phone towards him, asking if i got it right. he nodded and skated away, shooting one more puck before going to the locker room.
“there’s no fucking way.” i told my friend as we walked to our seats.
“are you gonna text him..? cause if not, you know i will.” jade said with a smirk on her face.
“if i don't text him, please kill me cause that would be the worst mistake of my life.” i replied, in full seriousness.
i texted him immediately, letting him know it was me and i saved his number. i got a quick text back, letting me know he got the text and that he would text me after the game. i sent a quick “good luck” text and went back to the conversation around me.
“i don’t know how you’re acting so casually about this.” jade said as she grabbed her drink.
“because if i don’t, i will mess it up and i cannot fumble HIM of all guys.” i said quietly, making sure the people around me weren’t paying attention to what i was saying.
as the game starts, i turn towards the ice, watching intently. by the second period, connor was looking good, getting shots in, and playing good offense.
we all watch as the players start lining up a goal, i watch at the edge of my seat as connor gets the puck. he starts getting closer to the net and he scores.
“he SO did that for you!” jade yells as the crowd erupts in cheers.
“stop it, he’s just playing, he wants to score no matter what,” i giggle, wondering if he really did do it for me.
the clock hit zero, with a win for the blackhawks. jade and i walked out of united center with a newfound happiness watching our team celebrate. i quickly got a text from connor asking if i was staying around after the game.
“we have to,” jade pushed me as we were walking to her car, “he’s basically saying he wants to see you.”
“okay, okay, fine. i’ll tell him we can stay,” i smile, opening our texts once again, getting ready to reply.
i asked him where he was going to be after the game as we reached jade’s car. we knew it was gonna be a while before he came out, with interviews and all that taking up most of his time after games.
finally, after almost an hour, connor texted me, telling me he was coming out. jade and i left the car, immediately missing the warmth as the cold air hit our faces, and walked towards the door he told us to meet him at.
we watched as all the other players started coming out, some of them waving and saying hi, a few of them asking if we were waiting for signatures. finally, i saw connor walking out.
“hey!” he called over to us with a smile.
“hi,” i said nervously while also trying to hide my shivering, “good game tonight!”
“thank you, i tried,” he laughed as we walked towards his car.
“sooo,” jade said, trying to break the awkwardness, “any plans tonight?
“i was invited to go out with the boys, but i’m probably just gonna go home, what about you guys?” connor replied, putting his stuff in his car and turning to us.
“well i mean, we were just gonna go home. unless maybe you wanted to hang out?” i said, immediately regretting it. this was connor bedard, the best player in the league right now.
“i’m actually getting pretty tired, i think i might just go home. plus, it’s a bit of a drive.” jade said as she lightly nudged me.
“oh really? how far do you guys live?” connor asked, looking at me for the answer.
“not that far, about an hour or so,” i said, trying to ignore his gaze.
“are you hungry? i could use some food,” connor looked at me, again. i glanced up at him this time, seeing a look of hope in his eyes.
“yeah, i could eat.” i smiled at him.
“i’m probably gonna grab something quick on the drive home, but if you guys wanna go get food,” jade said, looking at me, seeing if i wanted her to leave me here or if i wanted to go with her.
“i can always drive you home,” connor said, trying to keep whatever body warmth he could grab close.
“that’s okay, you don’t have to.” i laughed, trying to see if he actually wanted to or not.
“i’d be happy too,” he smiled.
“well i’m leaving now, so last chance.” jade said looking at connor one more time, seeing if he was being serious or not.
“come on, it’s cold.” connor opened the passenger door of his car.
laughing at him, i turned to jade, “i’ll text you?”
“you better,” she winked and walked quickly to her car.
Summary: We receive the love we think we deserve, too bad Matt doesn’t know that
A/N: THIS IS PART TWO OF THIS ANGST FIC
The air in Matt Rempe’s apartment was filled with the scent of garlic and simmering tomatoes as Y/N stirred the pasta sauce on the stove. A soft laugh escaped her lips as Matt tried, and failed, to flip a piece of dough in the air like a professional chef.
“You’re gonna hurt someone with that,” she teased, watching as the dough flopped onto the countertop.
Matt grinned sheepishly, his tall frame hunched over the counter as he tried to salvage the mess he’d made. “Guess I should stick to hockey.”
“Maybe,” Y/N laughed. “But hey, points for effort.”
It had started out as a simple evening. After
A stressful media day, Y/N hadn’t wanted to be alone. Matt, always the easygoing one, had offered to cook dinner, promising to make her laugh and distract her from the emotional weight of the day. And he had. His humor, his lightness—it was a refreshing change from the intensity she had always felt around Braden.
But as the night wore on, something between them shifted. It wasn’t just about pasta anymore. As they ate and shared a bottle of wine, sitting on the couch watching old movies, Y/N began to notice the way Matt looked at her, the way his hand lingered just a little too long on her knee when he laughed, the way her pulse quickened whenever their shoulders brushed. She had never thought of him like this before. Matt had always been the friend, the easygoing guy who could make her laugh. But tonight felt different—more charged.
She wasn’t sure if it was the wine, or maybe the emotional high from finally standing her ground with Braden, but the moment Matt leaned in to kiss her, she didn’t hesitate. His lips were soft, careful at first, as if he were testing the waters. But when she didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened, their bodies gravitating toward each other with an intensity that surprised them both.
Y/N’s hands found the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer as the kiss grew more urgent. The taste of wine lingered on their tongues, and the world outside seemed to disappear. All that mattered in that moment was the heat between them, the way Matt’s hands explored her back, the way her fingers curled into his hair.
They broke apart only long enough for Matt to pull his shirt over his head, revealing the sculpted muscles beneath. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She had seen Matt shirtless before—after all, they were friends, and he was a hockey player—but this time, it felt different. Intimate.
Her heart pounded as his hands found the hem of her shirt, lifting it gently over her head and tossing it aside. She felt exposed, but not in a bad way. There was a tenderness in Matt’s eyes, a warmth that made her feel safe. This wasn’t about rushing into anything. This was about being in the moment, feeling connected to someone who cared about her, someone who didn’t make her feel like she had to be anything other than herself.
Their kisses grew hungrier as they collapsed onto the couch, limbs tangled together in a mix of passion and laughter. Y/N’s skin tingled where Matt’s fingers grazed her, and she found herself lost in the sensation, in the way he made her feel like the only person in the world. It had been so long since she had felt this kind of closeness with someone—without the weight of expectations, without the fear of being hurt.
Just as they were teetering on the edge of something deeper, something more, the doorbell rang, cutting through the haze of their shared moment.
Matt froze, his forehead pressed against hers as they both caught their breath. “Who the hell…?” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration.
“I don’t know,” Y/N whispered, her heart still racing.
The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time.
Matt sat up, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I’ll get it. Don’t move,” he said, his tone playful but strained.
He quickly grabbed a shirt from the floor and threw it on before heading to the door. Y/N adjusted her position on the couch, her fingers nervously tugging at the blanket as she tried to calm her racing heart. She didn’t know who would be at the door at this hour, but whoever it was, they had the worst timing in the world.
Matt opened the door, and the color drained from his face.
“Braden,” he said, his voice laced with surprise and tension.
Braden Schneider stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable for a moment. But as his eyes flicked from Matt’s disheveled appearance to Y/N, who was half-covered on the couch with her shirt missing, realization hit him like a ton of bricks.
“Are you kidding me?” Braden’s voice was low, simmering with barely controlled rage.
Y/N’s heart sank. She scrambled to grab her shirt from the floor, hastily pulling it over her head as she stood up. “Braden, this isn’t—”
“Save it,” he snapped, his fists clenched at his sides as he glared at Matt. “I came here to apologize, to try and fix things between us, and this is what I walk into?”
Matt stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “Braden, you need to chill. This isn’t what you think.”
Braden let out a bitter laugh, his eyes blazing. “Oh, it’s not? Because it sure as hell looks like you were about to screw my ex-girlfriend, man.”
Y/N winced at the harshness of his words, but she forced herself to stay composed. “Braden, we broke up months ago. You don’t get to come in here and act like this.”
His gaze snapped to her, the hurt in his eyes barely masked by the anger. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna move on with him?”
Y/N crossed her arms, fighting to keep her voice steady. “You broke up with me, Braden. You don’t get to be angry now just because I’m not sitting around waiting for you.”
Braden took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I made a mistake. I know that now. But this—this isn’t right.”
Matt moved between them, his expression hardening. “Braden, back off. You don’t get to come here and start a fight because you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” Braden spat, though the fury in his eyes told a different story. “I’m just—this is messed up, Matt. We’re supposed to be friends.”
“And we are,” Matt said, his voice steady but firm. “But you don’t get to control what happens with Y/N. You made your choice.”
Braden’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, it looked like he might throw a punch. But then his shoulders slumped, and the anger seemed to drain out of him, replaced by something else—something broken.
“I loved you,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto Y/N’s.
Her breath caught in her throat. “I know.”
Braden’s voice cracked. “I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t know what to do with everything I was feeling. But I can’t stand this. Seeing you with him—”
“Braden, it’s not about you anymore,” Y/N said softly, her heart aching for him, but knowing that there was no going back. “We’re over. You have to let me go.”
For a long moment, Braden just stood there, staring at her as if trying to find the words that would fix everything. But there were no words. There was no fixing this.
Finally, he turned away, his voice hollow as he muttered, “I’m sorry.”
And then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him, leaving Y/N and Matt standing in the aftermath of a storm neither of them had been prepared for.
Matt turned to her, his expression uncertain. “You okay?”
Y/N nodded, though her heart felt heavy. “Yeah,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I will be.”
Matt could feel the tension building long before they even arrived at the arena. The silence in the car, while comfortable, carried an unspoken weight. Y/N had reassured him over breakfast that morning that they’d be fine, that what happened between them last night didn’t need to be complicated by what others thought, especially Braden. But as they pulled into the parking lot, the reality of it settled in Matt’s gut like a stone.
The moment they stepped out of the truck, eyes followed them. He noticed it right away—the way some of the guys paused in their conversations, how the trainers glanced over as they walked past. The easy, familiar camaraderie that normally greeted Matt on his way into the locker room felt stilted, almost like everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see how this would unfold.
Y/N, for her part, kept her head held high, walking beside him with quiet confidence. She had always been resilient, able to handle the pressure of working in a male-dominated space with grace. But Matt knew this was different. This wasn’t about media work or professionalism. This was about Braden.
He could already feel Braden’s presence before he even saw him. His stomach tightened as they approached the locker room, dread twisting his insides like a knot.
“You okay?” Y/N asked quietly as they neared the door, her hand brushing his arm lightly.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, though his voice sounded strained even to his own ears.
“Matt,” she pressed, stopping just short of the locker room entrance. Her eyes searched his face, soft but serious. “If you’re not okay with this, if you think it’s going to cause too many problems, we can—”
“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s not that. I just… I don’t want things to get ugly with Braden.”
Y/N’s expression softened, though there was a flicker of pain in her eyes when he mentioned Braden’s name. “He’ll have to deal with it, Matt. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He nodded, but the knot in his stomach didn’t loosen. She was right, of course. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But guilt still gnawed at the back of his mind—guilt for how things had played out, for the fight he knew was brewing beneath the surface. For how Braden had looked at him last night, betrayed and hurt.
They reached the door to the locker room, and Matt stopped, glancing down at Y/N. The noise of the team inside hummed through the walls, voices laughing, skates clattering against the hard floors. The normal chaos of pre-practice routines. But today, that noise seemed distant, muted by the anticipation of what was about to unfold.
“Good luck today,” Y/N said, her voice soft and warm, pulling Matt from his thoughts. She stepped closer, and before he could react, she leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like a declaration, a quiet reassurance that she was with him.
Matt’s heart stuttered in his chest. He heard someone clear their throat behind him, followed by a few muttered comments from the guys. He knew they were watching—he could feel their stares like a weight on his back. But for a moment, all he could focus on was the warmth of Y/N’s lips on his skin, the way her touch seemed to settle something deep inside him, even with all the chaos swirling around them.
“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice barely audible as she pulled away. “I’ll need it.”
She smiled, and for just a moment, the world felt a little less heavy. But as she turned to head down the hallway toward the media offices, the weight of everything came crashing back. Matt took a deep breath and pushed open the locker room door.
Inside, the usual pre-practice buzz hung in the air, but the moment Matt walked in, the atmosphere shifted. Conversations quieted, and a few of the guys exchanged knowing glances. Jacob, always the first to stir the pot, shot Matt a teasing grin.
“Morning, lover boy,” he said, slinging an arm around Matt’s shoulders as he made his way to his locker. “You and Y/N, huh?”
Matt shrugged him off with a roll of his eyes, trying to play it cool, but his heart was pounding. “Shut up, Jacob.”
But it wasn’t Jacob or the other guys’ comments that bothered him. It was Braden, standing at the far end of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes were locked on Matt, dark and unreadable. The tension between them was almost suffocating, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them like a cloud.
Braden hadn’t said anything since last night. Not a single word. But the look on his face told Matt everything he needed to know—he was angry. Hurt. And more than that, betrayed.
Matt tried to focus on getting his gear on, going through the motions like it was just another practice. But his hands shook as he tied his skates, and the knot in his stomach only seemed to tighten as time went on. He could feel Braden’s eyes on him the entire time, could practically hear the accusations running through his old friend’s mind.
Braden was like a storm waiting to break, simmering under the surface, and Matt didn’t know when or how it would explode.
The tension in the locker room only grew as more players filed in, the quiet murmurs turning into hushed whispers about Matt and Y/N, the air thick with speculation. Some of the guys kept it light, teasing Matt about the kiss Y/N had given him outside the locker room. But others, especially those closer to Braden, kept their distance, the lines between friendships subtly shifting as the awkwardness settled in.
As Matt stood up to grab his stick, he couldn’t take it anymore. He walked over to Braden, his heart pounding in his chest. He needed to clear the air, to say something, anything, before this exploded into something worse.
“Braden,” he started, his voice low, trying to keep the confrontation private.
Braden’s eyes flicked up, meeting his, cold and unreadable. “What do you want, Matt?”
Matt swallowed hard. “We need to talk about this. About last night.”
Braden let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he pushed off the wall. “Talk about what? How you’re screwing Y/N behind my back? How you couldn’t wait to make a move the second I was out of the picture?”
“It’s not like that, man, it’s been months, yu didn’t think she would stay single forver did you?” Matt said, his voice tight. “Besidese we didn’t plan for this to happen. It just… did.”
Braden’s jaw clenched, his fists balled at his sides. “You didn’t plan for it? That’s your excuse?”
“I don’t want this to cause tension with us.” Matt said, desperation creeping into his voice. “But you broke up with her. You walked away.”
“I know I broke up with her,” Braden snapped, his voice rising, drawing the attention of a few nearby teammates. “But that doesn’t mean you get to just swoop in and take her, because you’ve known her since we we’re dating.”
“Nobody’s ‘taking’ her, Braden,” Matt shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “She’s not a prize you can claim. She’s her own person, and she deserves to move on.”
“Move on?” Braden’s voice cracked, and for a moment, the anger gave way to something raw, something broken. “Is that what this is? You’re helping her move on from me?”
Matt faltered, guilt stabbing at his chest. “It’s not like that.”
Braden took a step closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “You were supposed to be my friend.”
Matt’s heart sank. “I still am.”
Braden’s eyes hardened, the anger flickering back. “Not anymore.”
The words hit Matt harder than he expected, cutting deep into the guilt he’d been carrying since last night. He watched as Braden turned away, heading toward his gear with stiff, angry movements, shutting down any further attempt at conversation.
Matt stood there, feeling the weight of the team’s eyes on him, the silence in the room heavy with the tension that had been building for weeks, months even. He knew that what had happened between him and Y/N was going to change things, not just with Braden but with the entire team.
As the guys shuffled around, awkwardly avoiding eye contact, Matt felt a bitter truth settle in his chest: things were never going to be the same again.
And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if it was worth it.
Matt couldn’t shake the weight that had settled in his chest, dragging him down all day. Even during practice, his mind wasn’t on the ice where it should have been. The drills felt mechanical, his movements hollow. Braden’s words had cut deeper than he’d let on in the locker room, and now, as he skated across the rink, his mind was miles away.
Braden’s glare had followed him through every drill, and while Braden never outright said anything after their confrontation, his silence spoke volumes. The rest of the team picked up on it too—guys who were usually cracking jokes around Matt were quiet, their glances nervous, as if unsure where their loyalties lay. Matt had always been one of the guys, but today he felt like he was standing on a frozen lake with cracks forming under his skates.
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could ignore the cracks.
By the time practice ended, Matt was exhausted, not just physically but mentally. Every time he tried to focus on the game, his mind wandered back to Braden, to Y/N, to the mess that was now his life. The weight of it all pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe. He couldn’t even muster the energy to joke around in the locker room like he usually did. Instead, he showered in silence and headed out without saying much to anyone.
He needed space. He needed to think.
Y/N was waiting for him near the media room when he walked out of the locker room. She was sitting on a bench, her phone in hand, scrolling through something. When she looked up and saw him, her face lit up with a soft smile, the kind that usually made his heart race. But today, it only made the knot in his stomach tighten.
He approached her slowly, the air between them heavy with unspoken tension.
“Hey,” she said, standing up and sliding her phone into her pocket. She stepped toward him, reaching for his hand, but Matt hesitated, and she immediately noticed. Her smile faltered. “You okay? You seemed off out there today.”
Matt’s jaw tightened. He could hear the concern in her voice, see it in her eyes. She wasn’t oblivious—she knew something was wrong, but he didn’t know how to start. How to tell her that the weight of everything was pressing down on him so hard, he wasn’t sure he could carry it anymore.
“Matt?” she asked softly, stepping closer, her hand brushing his arm.
He swallowed hard, looking down at her. His heart ached. He had been so sure last night that they could make this work, that what they had was worth the fallout. But now, standing here in the aftermath of Braden’s cold silence and the tension hanging over the team, doubt was creeping in like a shadow he couldn’t shake.
“I don’t know, Y/N,” he said finally, his voice rough. “I don’t know if this is going to work.”
Y/N blinked, her expression falling. “What do you mean?”
Matt rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on him again. “I mean… this. Us. It’s messing with my head, it’s messing with the team, and I can’t…” He paused, his throat tightening as the words he’d been avoiding all day finally spilled out. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”
Y/N’s face paled slightly, her eyes searching his for answers, but Matt couldn’t even meet her gaze. “Matt, what are you saying?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, but they were tangled up in the mess of guilt, anger, and confusion swirling inside him. “It’s just… everything with Braden, with the team. It’s been so tense lately and especially after last night, and it’s not just about him being mad at me. It’s affecting the way we’re all playing together. I can feel it. The guys are different now—like they don’t trust me or something.”
Y/N stepped back slightly, her arms folding across her chest as if trying to protect herself from the sting of his words. “So… what? You’re saying you think being with me is going to ruin your career?”
Matt winced at her tone, at the hurt flashing in her eyes. That wasn’t what he meant, but now that she’d said it out loud, the fear of it settled deep in his gut. Was that what this was? Was he scared that choosing her—choosing this—meant sacrificing the life he’d worked so hard to build?
“I don’t know!” Matt blurted, his frustration boiling over. “I don’t know what this is going to do. All I know is that it’s already messing with my head, and if it’s going to mess with the team, then maybe it’s not—”
“Not what?” Y/N interrupted, her voice sharp. “Not worth it? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, and he immediately regretted how this conversation had spiraled. “That’s not what I’m saying,” he said, his voice low, trying to calm down. But he could see the hurt in her eyes, the way she was already pulling away, and it was killing him. “I just… I don’t know how to do this without losing everything I’ve worked for.”
Y/N’s face hardened, her expression shifting from hurt to something colder, sharper. “You mean your career, right? Hockey. The team. Everything but me.”
Matt’s heart clenched, guilt twisting inside him. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she was important to him, that last night had meant something real. But how could he deny that fear that had been gnawing at him since practice? How could he pretend that this wasn’t already affecting his focus, his game?
Y/N shook her head, her voice breaking. “I knew this was going to be complicated, but I thought… I thought we could figure it out. You’re the one who initiated all this with me Matt remember that. You started the laughes, whispers, longing stares… the kisses. You chose this Matt, but I didn’t think I’d have to fight for you when I accepted it.”
Her words stung, but they also hit home. He had wanted to believe they could figure it out too. That maybe, somehow, it would all just work out. But now, standing here in the cold, harsh light of reality, he wasn’t sure anymore.
“I don’t want to lose you,” Matt said quietly, his voice hoarse. “But I don’t know how to fix this.”
Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she took a step back, creating more distance between them. “Maybe the problem is you’re not even sure if you want to fix it.”
Matt flinched, the truth in her words hitting him harder than anything Braden had said. He wanted to argue, to tell her she was wrong. But the silence that hung between them said everything he couldn’t.
Y/N took a shaky breath, her voice barely a whisper. “If you’re already having doubts, then maybe we shouldn’t be doing this at all.”
Matt’s chest tightened, panic surging through him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He didn’t want to push her away, but it felt like that was exactly what he was doing. And the worst part? He didn’t know how to stop.
“I don’t want that,” he said, his voice rough with desperation. “But everything’s falling apart, Y/N. I don’t know how to hold it all together.”
She looked at him for a long moment, the silence stretching between them, heavy and suffocating. Then, with a small, sad smile, she said, “Maybe you can’t.”
And with that, Y/N turned and walked away, leaving Matt standing there, watching as the one thing he had been so sure of the night before slipped through his fingers.
As he watched her disappear down the hallway, Matt realized with a sinking heart that maybe he wasn’t strong enough to have both—the career he’d always dreamed of and the girl who made him feel like he could be more than just a hockey player.
And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if he deserved either one anymore.
Y/N hadn’t spoken to Matt or Braden in weeks. Not a single word, not even a glance in their direction. She kept things professional—strictly business during interviews, maintaining the calm, collected exterior she had built over the years. But underneath that composed surface was a bitterness she couldn’t shake, a sadness that clung to her like a second skin.
The first few days had been unbearable. Every time she saw Matt on the ice or Braden walking by, the memories flooded her—memories of Matt’s touch, Braden’s words, the way everything had unraveled so quickly. But Y/N had forced herself to push it all down, to focus on her work, on being the best reporter she could be. She had to. If she let herself feel any of it, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep it together.
At practice, she kept her distance, standing off to the side with her notebook and microphone, making small talk with the other reporters. The guys on the team noticed her silence, the way she avoided Matt’s and Braden’s eyes, but no one said anything. It wasn’t their place to get involved, and Y/N was grateful for that. The last thing she needed was pity or gossip.
Her interviews with Braden were short, her questions crisp and to the point. She never let her emotions slip, never allowed the tension between them to seep into the professional space they now shared. It felt like walking a tightrope, balancing her feelings with the need to maintain a perfect facade. Every time she saw the flicker of guilt or regret in Braden’s eyes, she forced herself to ignore it, to keep her voice steady and her expression neutral.
With Matt, it was even harder. There had been a time when their banter came naturally, when he could make her laugh during interviews, even when she was trying to be serious. But now, the air between them was thick with unspoken words. She would ask her questions, he would answer, and that was it. No lingering eye contact, no soft smiles. Just two people going through the motions.
She thought about their last conversation every day—the way Matt had said he wasn’t sure if being with her was worth the risk, the way she had felt her heart crack as she realized that he wasn’t willing to fight for them. Her anger toward Braden had simmered, but it was Matt’s doubt that had left her feeling hollow. She had been so sure of him, of them, and now it felt like she was grasping at something that had never really been hers to begin with.
One day, after a particularly brutal practice, Y/N found herself in the hallway near the locker rooms, waiting for Matt to finish an interview with another reporter. She watched from a distance, her heart twisting at how tired he looked, the strain clear in the lines of his face. He wasn’t playing like himself lately—everyone on the team had noticed it. He was still good, still Matt, but something was off. She couldn’t help but wonder if it had to do with her, if he was struggling as much as she was to pretend like nothing had happened.
When Matt finished his interview, he glanced her way, his eyes catching hers for the briefest second before she quickly looked away, turning her attention back to her phone. She felt his gaze linger, and for a moment, she thought he might walk over, say something, anything. But he didn’t. He turned and walked down the hall toward the locker room without a word.
The silence between them felt heavier every day. And yet, neither of them seemed to know how to break it.
Braden was no different. Their interactions were purely professional—stilted, formal, devoid of any of the tension that had once simmered between them. But every time she saw him, she was reminded of the hurt he had caused, the way he had torn her apart with his fear and his indecision. He had broken up with her because he hadn’t been able to handle the depth of their connection, and now that it was over, she could see that he regretted it. But it didn’t matter. He had made his choice, and so had she.
Still, there were moments—small, fleeting moments—when Y/N would catch herself watching Matt on the ice, or she would see Braden laughing with the guys and feel a pang of something she didn’t want to admit was longing. She missed them. She missed the way things had been before everything had gotten so complicated.
But every time those feelings surfaced, she buried them deeper, forcing herself to remember that this was for the best. She had told herself that over and over again. Maybe it was better this way, to keep her distance, to focus on her work and leave everything else behind. Maybe she had been foolish to think that she could have it all—her career, her reputation, and a relationship with someone who was tangled up in the same world she was trying to navigate.
And yet, every time she saw Matt or Braden, the doubt crept in. Maybe it wasn’t for the best. Maybe she had given up too soon.
But no matter how much it hurt, Y/N knew that there was no going back now. The walls she had built around herself were too high, and even if either of them tried to break through, she wasn’t sure she’d let them. She had been burned too many times, and the scars were too fresh.
Weeks passed, and the distance between them all only grew. Y/N kept her head down, kept her heart locked away, and did what she did best—pretended like everything was fine. But as the days stretched on, the loneliness gnawed at her, a constant reminder that no matter how hard she tried to separate herself from the pain, it was always there, lurking just beneath the surface.
Because the truth was, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, she wasn’t sure she could ever truly let go of either of them.
A/N: Comment who you wanna end up with idk who to pick
She knew she shouldn’t have come. She should have declined the call- hell, she knew damn well she should’ve blocked his number from her phone months ago. But here she sat, in a cozy restaurant, in a dress she knew was too flashy just for some catch up, across from Connor, as he explained how his last few months of hockey have been.
“So, why’d you call me?” she asked abruptly. For a short moment, she thought she had offended him by slightly rushing into another more tense topic, until he smiled widely.
Oh. That smile. That fucking smile, always did something to her. When they were together, she would always tell him how beautiful his smile was, with which he would bashfully smile even more, a little pink hue brushing upon his cheeks. When she first saw that smile, she made it her mission to put it on his face whenever possible.
His smile was so very him, and she could never get enough of it.
He huffed out a little laugh, leaning forward a little so the light of the candle reflected in his eyes. “Just wanted to see you.”
She should have expected it; they’d done this silly little routine more times than she could count. He would call, she would answer, knowing damn well where it would lead.
“Well, I can’t stay for long, I have an appointment.” Y/n replied, not especially wanting to address his answer despite herself asking the question. She fiddled with her fingers on her lap, suddenly very aware of where she was sitting.
“On a Sunday?” They both knew she was lying; he knew she was going to stay because that's what she always did.
“Yep.” she nodded.
She was hands down the worst liar Connor had ever met. Something, he learnt very early on in their relationship. The morning after their first night together, she tried to hide the fact that she’d broken two of his brand-new glasses while making breakfast. He had just bought them, she felt awful, and her cover-up was doomed from the start. Mid clean-up, he stumbled out of his room, after waking up to an absence of her body warmth. One feeble lie later, she caved, apologizing over and over. Connor learnt that day how bad of a liar she was and how much he had fallen for the girl standing in the middle of his kitchen, his shirt hanging from her structure.
“Doctor’s office staying back late just for you?” he teased, letting out another laugh when she scowled at him, letting out a defeated huff. She knew she was a bad liar, she knew he knew that too.
“You kno-” Y/n was about to shift to another topic, slightly embarrassed at her half-assed attempt at a lie, but the bubbly waitress jumped in, her notepad in hand.
By instinct, Y/n stayed quiet. She usually lets Connor order for her. Not in any way controlling. Just something they had always done, and it was how she liked it. She supposed now that they weren’t together anymore, maybe she should break the practised routine. But, of course, she didn’t. Why would she break that?
“What wine, baby?” Her head snapped up, at the term of endearment that she had not heard in a while. She hadn’t realised how much she had missed it. How the hell had she gone so long without hearing his sweet deep voice call her that.
“Hmm?” Y/n had to ask again, her eyes flickering between Connor and the waitress who were both waiting for you to say something, pursing her lips as she tried to remember what Connor was asking in the first place.
“Wine? Red?” Connor repeated, scanning your face as if you aren't alright.
Wine. Red, white. Didn’t matter. She knew where it led. A drink in, Connor would apologize for not calling. Two, and he’d start taking back what he said during the breakup. By the third, sometimes sooner, they’d be tangled in sheets, in his bed, hers, or a hotel room booked for one night, breathless, legs tangled, breaths heavy, and mouths exploring the touch they had both craved when they were apart.
“Sure.” You’re pathetic, Y/n, very very weak - she repeated in her head as Connor continued ordering.
If she didn’t love him so much, it would be fine. She felt tied to him, she needed him in every way possible. She hated the way she felt empty when she reached for him in the middle of the night and realised he wasnt there. So, she would always find every path she’d taken leading back to him. And she realised she’d rather feel something than nothing at all, so she would settle for this, frankly, rather unhealthy cycle of random hook ups.
“Madi says hi by the way, wants me to tell you that you can still reach out to her whenever you like even though we’re…” Connor trailed off, sounding a little embarrassed. Because, what were they really? Yes, they had split, but they were still hooking up.
“We’re occasionally fucking when we feel lonely.” Y/n decided to respond dryly, making Connor laugh, scratching the back of his neck at her directness. She hated how much her lower stomach tingles at the sight of his arms flexing, before he let his arm settle again.
“Yeah- well I guess she didn’t really say that exactly, but yeah.” Connor said kindly, always quite composed and comfortable around his girl. That’s what she was really, his. They both knew that. “You know, she told me I was stupid to bring you here of all places. Might be too nostalgic.”
That’s right. Of course. How could she have forgotten the place she felt like she was part of his family.
It was the day of the draft. Or more specifically, the night of the draft and Connor, his parents, sister and of course Y/n, wanted to celebrate, despite all of them being overwhelmed and tired from the day.
“You know how proud I am of you, right?” She had said quietly, just low enough so only Connor could hear her as Madison showed her parents some things the media was saying about the draft.
Connor always stayed pretty quiet when he encountered the media, but he was rarely like that with people he held dear. When you first met, you immediately spotted him in the back of his friend group, ‘the reserved one’ your friend teased, but within a few minutes, he opened right up. With his friends, his family, and now you, he was able to talk and talk and talk.
“Yeah, but it’s nice hearing it. Tell me again?” He smiled, with that little smirk, but you knew it wasn’t in a cocky way at all. His arm that was draped behind you on your chair, moved to join your hands on your lap.
“Well, I’m so so proud of you baby, more than you’ll ever know.” You smiled right back at him, letting him press a kiss against your temple. “You also looked pretty good taking off that suit while strutting up to the stage by the way.” You whispered in his ear and you smiled as you felt him chuckle against your temple.
“Ew you two, Connor get off her you perv.” Madi groaned, earning a death glare from her brother and a chuckle out of the other three.
Connor rolled his eyes, his fingers lightly tracing circles on the back of Y/n’s hand. “Jealous, Madi?” he shot back, making his sister scoff.
“Sure sure,” Madison retorted, shaking her head before turning back to her phone, still scrolling through the media reactions.
“Hey, smile you three.” Connor's mum said, making Madi, Y/n and Connor look up to see a phone ready to take a picture. “Come on, don’t look so tired for just one minute.”
Y/n laughed, but she felt Connor squeeze her hand before wrapping his other hand around Madi’s shoulders, all three smiling widely. Something about this moment made Y/n’s stomach flip, something that made her wish they could freeze this moment and never have to move forward. Because right here, right now, it was so easy and so beautiful.
“Come on,” Connor murmured, nudging her knee as he lifted the menu. “What wine would you like?”
And just like that, she was pulled out of her pessimistic thoughts and leaned into Connor. Like she always did.
The wine arrived at the table and Y/n was pulled out of her thoughts once again. She stayed comfortably silent, sitting back in her seat, watching as the deep red liquid swirled in their glasses as the waitress set them down.
She stayed seated away from the table, trying not to reach for the glass. She already knew what would happen if she did
.
Connor, on the other hand, wasn't so hesitant. Maybe because he was nervous, Y/n thought. And, it was, he was nervous. He lifted his glass, taking a slow sip before setting it down and watching her. He loved watching her. Not in some creepy way. He could watch her talk for hours, watch the way her mouth moved, the way she would get animated and let her hands dance around in the air when she was talking about something she loved, watch the way her face would twist in the most beautiful way when she was beneath him in his bed.
“Have you decided to quit drinking?”
Her eyes flickered up to his. The candlelight made his gaze softer than it should have been, and for a moment, it felt too familiar. Too much like something it wasn’t anymore. Her heart clenched at how it reminded her of the way he looked so lovingly into her eyes during the night of the draft.
She exhaled a slow breath, shaking her head. “If you drink, you’ll say that you want me.”
Connor opened his mouth to interject but no words came out.
“If I drink, I’ll let you have me.” Her voice was quiet, matter-of-fact, smiling solemnly at the boy she loved and made her hurt so much.
Connor reflected her sad smile and she hated the fact that it was her that placed it on his face, “If we didn’t love each other, it would be fine.”
Her chest ached at his words, a dull, twisting pressure that never seemed to go away when she was around him. Because they both knew the truth; this thing between them was never just casual. Even when they pretended it was, it was so complicated in so many ways.
She sighed, finally picking up the glass and taking a sip, feeling the warmth spread through her chest.
It was better to feel something than nothing at all. Right?
-
The air was crisp against her skin, the wind seeping through the tiny holes in her fabric that was invisible to the eye; it was the kind of air that hinted at the coming chill of autumn but wasn’t quite there yet.
Y/n hugged her coat tighter around her frame as she and Connor walked side by side through the quiet park. The conversation had mellowed out and the two had resorted to comfortable silence.
Despite the two being known to be chatterboxes when they were together, they did treasure their silence. It was funny, even the media had picked up on it, twitter having photos and videos of him talking her ear off in the back of the Blackhawks' Instagram videos. They were always laughing, always so deep in conversation, that people would make fun of the comparison of Connor on the ice, face very focused and sometimes even sad, with the videos of Connor yapping away at the girl.
Y/n caught herself smiling at the thought, her eyes drifting over to Connor, who was walking with his hands buried deep in his pockets. There was something so easy about being with him like this, just the soft sound of their footsteps against the gravel path. Something they both knew they could always rely on, no matter how tense or upset they were with each other, was to be silent and not have that awkward expectancy to fill the air.
Before either of the young pair could notice it, Connor had removed one of his hands out of his pocket and joined their fingers. She was used to it now, she had known him, been close to him, for so many years it felt normal, but she was startled a bit. Not by his hand being placed in the spot he knew was reserved only for him, no, she was startled that a little sickness trickled through her body, one that wasn’t related to any illness. But, of course, she let the hockey player grip her hand a little tighter like it was nothing.
Connor seemed to sense her gaze, his cheeks growing a little pink as though they hadn’t been a couple for three years, and had sex multiple times ever since breaking up. “What?” he teased, raising an eyebrow, although with a small undertone of embarrassment.
“Nothing,” she said with a playful shrug. “I’ve missed you a lot lately is all.” The words came out sheepishly, as she looked down at the pavement they were walking on. “You don’t need to say anything by the way, I just-”
He bumped his shoulder lightly against hers, grinning a little. “I’ve missed you too…” He paused for a moment, and she looked up confused, “not in you know, just a physical way, I’ve just missed being around you… I don’t want you to think that I call you just for, you know.”
She nodded slowly, leaning into his side, feeling a warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the coat or the crisp air, as he brought her closer into him, wrapping his arm tightly around her. “Silence isn't always awkward with the right person.”
“You saying I’m the right person for you?” he teased, nudging her again, this time more intentionally, like he was trying to get her to laugh. And, of course, it worked.
“You're lucky I like you, you know that.” she muttered, but her smile betrayed her, softening the words as she pinched the arm that was draped around her.
“Of course I do.” Connor said, a hint of playfulness in his voice. “But you know I like hearing you say it.”
As they continued to walk, Connor pulled her in tighter when a soft drizzle started to fall, the kind of rain that wasn’t quite enough to send them running for cover, but enough to bring an excuse.
“We should go back,” Connor murmured, his hand tapping at her shoulder to gain her attention. “It’s getting late.”
She should say no. She should turn and walk the other way, go home, break this cycle once and for all. But she didn’t.
Instead, she nodded, letting him lead her down familiar streets, back to his apartment. Back to the place where she knew exactly how the night would end.
From the moment they stepped inside, their hands were on each other, foreheads leaning closely against each other. Their lips stayed unattached, denying them both the pleasure they yearned for so badly, but staying apart as if to prove to each other that they had some sort of restraint.
His fingers threaded through her hair, his breath hot against her.
"Baby," Connor’s voice was low, strained as if tired, almost pleading as his lips hovered over hers, yet he didn’t kiss her.
Not yet. He wanted to, fuck, he wanted to so badly. But the space between them, that invisible distance that had lingered for so long, kept him from crossing it. He needed her to do it, he needed her to let it happen. No matter how much of a jerk he thought he was when he thought about it, he knew that if they were going to hurt each other, he would make sure she wanted to do it.
His hand trembled where it cupped her face, and his other hand gripped her waist so tightly, she thought he could feel his pulse mixing with hers, both equally erratic and fast out of their control.
“I don’t know how to stop. I can’t stop wanting you and I know it’s hurting us both, but I need you so much baby.” His voice felt so strained, he sounded weak and her heart skipped, a painful pang of something between yearning and sadness crashing through her chest. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady herself, but it was impossible. “Please, I’m sorry.”
She opened her eyes, met his gaze, watching as the tears that swam against his eyes. “Don’t,” she breathed out, shaking her head softly, her voice unsteady, faltering as she backed away slightly. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it. Don’t say you’re sorry. Tell me something you actually mean.”
Her words turned sharp, as if she was filled with a sudden rage.
She pushed at his chest, almost hitting it with enough force to shove him back but he kept her close, burrowing his face into her neck. Something about him not being able to see her resulted in her finally letting tears pile up in her eyes. She tried to frantically blink them away as she locked her fingers in his hair.
“I never regretted us,” Connor admitted but she shook her head, trying to push him away again out of frustration.
“No, that’s not good enough. Tell me something you actually mean so I don’t walk out this door right now.” the girl replied, leaning her head down a bit to be closer to his ear as he gripped her waist tighter. “Don't make me walk out.”
She felt his tears wetting the collar of her shirt, her skin turning slightly cold where he let the quiet cries escape.
“I love you. I never stopped and I’d hate myself so much if I let you leave me here alone.” Oh fuck, well if he knew what to say, that was just it for Y/n.
She tried one last fatal attempt to pull away but it was already too late. She knew how much she wanted this.
Before she could stop herself, before she could think, her lips crushed against his in a desperate kiss. It was wet and messy, filled with desperation and emotions that neither of them were mature enough to place into words.
His hands were everywhere, needing to touch her, needing to claim her so badly, to feel her in ways he knew only he could make her feel. She responded with the same urgency, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, closer, closer, until they stumbled into his bedroom. Their breaths were heavy against each other as if they were running out of air.
“Connor,” she gasped, pulling away just enough to speak, her voice trembling, “we can’t just do this every time, we need to talk baby.”
His eyes searched hers as his heart clenched at the nickname she used very rarely ever since their split, “I know I know,” he murmured against her lips. “Let me just have you now before things get difficult.”
She hated herself. She hated the fact that all he needed to say was that, so simple, and he could have her.
With that, she was tugging at his shirt, fingers trembling as she peeled it from his skin. It made his heart swell as he looked down at her nervous movements, momentarily interrupted as he pulled the shirt over his head.
The warmth of his skin under her fingertips was a shock, and she couldn’t stop herself. Her hands explored him, so familiar it made her chest tighten; she knew every scar, every freckle, every inch of him burned into her memory.
“Walk back with me.” He held her waist as he led her towards the bed until her knees hit the mattress and she fell backwards.
Their legs tangled, mouths exploring each others’, before Connor journeyed down to her neck to place open mouthed kisses against her soft skin. The girl let out a soft moan that felt like the best gift Connor could ever receive.
But it wasn’t enough.
She needed more. She needed him, all of him, and she needed him to need her in the same way. “Why do we do this to each other?” she breathed out.
Connor’s chest heaved with ragged breaths, and he pulled back from the crook of her neck just enough to look up at her, his eyes filled with torment. “Because I can’t let you go, Y/n,” he admitted, placing a gentle kiss on her jaw, making tears form in her eyes at the sheer tenderness of his action. “Every time we try to walk away, you’re all I can think about. I need you in my life in any way you’ll let me.”
Her heart shattered at the vulnerability in his voice, and she grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. “Then stop pushing me away. Stop pretending like we can fix everything with distance one minute and then sex the other. Prove it, you asshole, prove to me that you mean it.” You spat towards the end, your cheeks staining with tears as you gripped Connors face.
He looked at her, conflict swarming within his gaze. “I mean it, I promise. But we hurt each other baby, even you have to admit that.”
Her hands slid down his chest, her fingertips tracing every muscle, every inch of him, as if she was trying to imprint him in her memory. As if she knew she he would become a memory to her. “I know,” she whispered. “But I’m just as terrified as you. I don’t know why I need you so much, every path leads back to you no matter how much pain we cause each other. But I don’t care, I need your touch on me, I need your mouth on mine, I need you so badly.”
His breath caught, and for a moment, it was as if the world stopped, and the only thing that existed was her words echoing in his ears. “I don’t know if I can do this again,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can survive losing you again.”
Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision as she pulled him closer, her lips brushing against his once more. “You won’t.” she kissed him quickly, cupping his cheeks, “You can’t. Because I won’t let you.”
The two lovers joined their mouths yet again, like they did every time, the desperation still the same, making their hearts race in unison. Their bodies moved together, aligning in a rhythm that felt familiar and completely new, as if they were rediscovering each other for the first time.
“I love you.” she whispered as he pulled away to gaze at her, bringing a hand up to ever so gently brush some hair out of her face. “I can’t stop loving you.”
Connor’s thumb gently brushed away the tears that had previously slipped down her cheek. “I never stopped loving you. Not once.”
They were tangled in each other again, and again, neither of them wanted to escape the safety, the security of each other's familiarity.
And that’s how it would end.
Fuck the morning after, she had thought as she woke up. The morning after was always the worst. The quiet that blanketed his apartment as if even the walls were giving her the silent treatment. She resented the way they never spoke about it, just pretended it didn’t happen.
She didn’t wake up in the same position she fell asleep in. He was no longer hugging her with his arm wrapped around her bare body in a way that felt protective; no, Connor, faced the wall, either asleep still, or awake and not wanting to talk about what had happened the night before.
It wasn’t just his fault. She didn’t resent him anymore. She turned it right back on herself. It wasn’t like he was forcing her into anything. She not only agreed, but was equally responsible for ringing him up at ungodly hours of the night.
She slipped out from under the covers, reaching for the clothes that were scattered across his floor.
Looking back at his back one last time after getting dressed and booking an Uber, she let the smallest tear escape her eye. She wiped it away as fast as it came, embarrassed at herself as she felt her feet bring her closer to his side of the bed.
Y/n placed a gentle kiss against the boy’s cheek, brushing the hair that had fallen against his eyelids back. She received a very sleepy hum in response. Satisfied with that, she turned on her heel and walked out of his apartment.
-
And again and again, this routine ensued.
She sat alone in her own apartment, scrolling through her gallery after her phone had annoyingly told her that her storage was filled. Y/n’s heart faltered slightly as she stumbled upon a familiar photo from a few years back. She thought she had placed all the photos of her and Connor onto a folder in her computer so she would have them hidden from view, but somehow, whether by accident or subconscious weakness, it had been left there.
She wished it wasn’t in her phone still.
The picture captured a moment from when Connor’s sister had decided to do a surprise visit for her brother; of course, with the help of Y/n. The three had just watched The Fast and the Furious, and both Connor and Y/n had dozed into sleep, his head tucked into the crook of her neck as she wrapped her arms around his back. Madi, despite her objections to the pair's PDA around her, thought the two were so adorable that she couldn’t let the moment go to waste. It wasn’t until the morning when they woke up, did Connor realise Madi had sent it to the family group chat that Y/n was added to after two years in their relationship.
Connor had woken her up and showed it to her, her heart immediately clenching at the photo and going to tease him at how much of a baby he looked in her arms.
It had been months, and she could still find him everywhere in her life. Maybe it was because the people you love always manage to stay around, maybe it was because the universe wanted to play a cruel fucking joke on her.
Her phone buzzed and a little notification popped up at the top of her screen. She sighed as if she already knew who it was before she even looked.
Pretty Boy is calling…
Her finger hovered over the green accept icon. His contact photo was an old one she had taken, head resting against her chest as he lay on her and giggling as he tried to avoid her capturing his face.
Her fingers trembled as she answered, bringing the phone to her ear and closing her eyes gently, already knowing that there was a very high chance she was going to cry.
The line stayed silent for a few seconds, just enough to make her think it could have been a pocket call. But he would never make a mistake like that,
“Baby,”
She brought her free hand up to massage the bridge of her nose as the familiar sting of tears bottled up in her throat.
She should have hung up. She should have let it ring out. But here she was, listening to the one person she had spent so long trying to forget.
“I just…” He trailed off, exhaling shakily. “I needed to hear your voice.”
She swallowed hard, trying to rid the tears that were threatening to peak at her eyes, “Connor, this isn’t fai-”
“I’m sorry.” His voice broke slightly, and she could picture him running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t,” He exhaled harshly. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”
Her throat burned and she tried so hard to not cry. His voice just set her off, it was like this gift that he had – although, it was really not a gift at all because that would mean it was a good thing - “Connor, don’t.”
“Please.” He ignored her warning, the desperation leaking into his words. “Just come get coffee with me. That’s all. No fucking drinks, no sex, just… coffee.”
She almost laughed. As if it had ever been just that.
“Connor, we both know it’s never just coffee.”
“I swear, I just want to see you,” he pleaded. “No expectations. No bullshit. I just, ugh, baby,” He let out a sharp breath. “I just miss you.”
A lump formed in her throat. He wasn’t drunk this time. He wasn’t slurring apologies or saying things he wouldn’t remember in the morning. He was sober. He meant every single word.
That made it worse. Because she could be convinced much more easily.
“I can’t.” her voice came out broken, barely understandable as she tried to rid a sob, but it was the hardest thing she’d ever had to say. Because fuck, she wanted to. She wanted to say yes, to meet him, to fall back into the only arms that had ever felt like home.
But she couldn’t survive this cycle again.
“We’ve done this before,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “And I can’t do this anymore, it hurts too much.”
“Baby.” His voice was wrecked, and she knew, knew without even seeing him, that his eyes were glassy, that his jaw was clenched, that he was doing everything he could to hold himself together.
She sucked in a shaky breath. “I love you, Connor.”
There was the smallest pause before she received a mere whisper in response, “I love you too.”
She opened her eyes and stared up at the plain ceiling, wishing she could just hug him and make the sadness and the strain in his voice all go away. “That’s the problem. We both know that.”
And then, before she could change her mind, she hung up.
She felt so incredibly guilty despite wanting to just wallow in her own sadness. Of course, she would only think about how Connor felt at that moment. She felt bad because she had never done this; they had been broken up for almost a year now, they had continued to hook up many times in that time, he would call, she would say yes. That’s just how it went.
She had just said no for the very first time. And the two ex-lovers sat in their own separate apartments, trying to grasp the fact that it was finally over.
-
The first time they met, it had been in a coffee shop.
She hadn’t even noticed him and his two teammates stumble into the fairly tiny place. She had been too busy laughing at something her friend had said when the commotion at the next table caught her attention.
Two guys, one of them red-faced and wide-eyed, scrambling up to grab napkins after spilling an entire drink across the table. They rushed off, leaving the third guy still sitting there, looking down at the spreading mess with a resigned expression.
“He’s cute.” Her friend, Beth, next to her whispered, then earning a shove of an elbow from Y/n who was just a little red in the face, scared that the boy had heard them. “Though the older one that rushed off is way more my type.”
“Keep it in your pants would you.” the other girl, Steph, across from the two laughed. Though Y/n wasn’t listening; in all honesty, she was staring a bit at the boy. Her heart was beating extra fast as she saw the coffee that was spilt previously was spreading and was going to tip over the edge onto his pants.
Quickly, she grabbed a handful of napkins from her own table, stepping over before she could think twice.
“Here,” she had said, offering them to him.
“Thanks.” he had looked up at her then, surprised, before a small, grateful smile tugged at his lips. “My friends are a little clumsy.”
“Oh so are mine-”
“Hey, could you try flirting with the guy without shit talking us.” Beth scolded her, Steph across from her agreeing.
Y/n, a little red in the face, rolled her eyes and was a little relieved when the cute guy laughed a little before putting out his hand.
“I’m Conner.” he introduced, smiling widely and she thought that it was the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.
“Y/n.” she responded, taking his hand in hers and shaking it.
And just like that, she was pulled into him. Like she always was.
I feel like connor might be a munch but definitely prefers to use his fingers. Having u wiggle and grind against his hand while he constantly hits ur spot just does smth to him
oh absolutely in my mind Connor is the type to damn near prefer making out while you're on his lap with his fingers buried in you over sex sometimes. There's just something about it, the way you grip him and drip down his fingers making a mess of his whole forearm.
he loves eating pussy however he gets too caught up in watching the way his fingers sink into you and spread your slick around sometimes and forgets he was supposed to have his mouth on you in the first place. You have to tug his hair a little to get his attention and at that point he'd press an apologetic kiss to the inside of your thigh before diving back in ofc.
You were excited. After a week, Connor was finally going back home from the roadie. In summer, you two moved together and now, it felt weird to not have him around. You cooked dinner for him and did groceries. You tried to occupy your head before his comeback so you started cleaning the mess.
“I’m home” Connor yelled but the silence answered him.
He walked further and saw you in your headphones, standing backwards to him and folding the laundry. Instead of making a quiet entry, he decided to scare you. He grabbed you in the waist and you screamed all freaked out. You turned around and saw him.
“You idiot” You playfully hit his arm. “Do you want me to have a heart attack?”
“I missed you” Connor kissed you.
“I missed you too” You hugged him. “Go take the shower, I’ll heat the dinner”
“You’re the best” Connor said and disappeared into the bathroom.
During the dinner, Connor was telling you about the roadie and the games. You were joking about him becoming an enforcer and ragebaiting every player. He was laughing at your words like it was the funniest thing in the world.
“You made the dinner, I’ll do the dishes” Connor said and grabbed the plates.
“I definitely missed you” You told him.
“You missed me or you missed me doing the dishes?” Connor joked and you rolled your eyes.
“How about finishing the tv show?” You asked him. “Or do you have other plans?”
“No plans but I already finished the tv show” Connor said and you looked at him in disbelief.
“What do you mean you finished? We were watching it together” You told him.
“Yeah but Frank was also watching. We finished it together because we had room together” Connor shrugged.
“Oh I see, you’re replacing me with Frank” You said and heard Connor’s laugh.
You felt the jealousy that Connor was doing everything with Frank. Not only was he spending every single day at the rink but also was living with him in the roadies. You knew it was dumb but you couldn’t help it. It was another situation when something that you and Connor were doing later was his thing between him and Frank.
Connor ignored your comment earlier but hours later, you were acting like you mean it. You two started watching a different tv show but he could sense that you’re withdrawn. Three episodes later, he decided to call it a day.
“I’m tired. I’m going to sleep. We can finish it tomorrow” Connor turned off the TV.
“Are we? Or are you gonna finish it with Frank?” You asked him.
“Are you jealous of Frank?” Connor asked you like he couldn’t believe what he just heard.
“I’m not” You crossed your arms on your chest.
“Oh, you're” Connor said. “Talk to me”
“I just feel like everything that we’re doing soon becomes your and Frank thing. I feel like we don’t have anything just to ourselves” You sighed.
“Is this about the tv show?” Connor was confused.
“Not only. See that our little traditions are now yours and Frank. Name one thing that we have just to ourselves” You said but Connor was silent. “Exactly my point”
“Look, I’m sorry that I made you feel this way. It wasn’t my intention” Connor caressed your leg.
“I know” You said with a soft smile.
“How about we make new traditions? Just you and me?” Connor proposed to you.
“Like what?” You looked at him.
“I don’t know but we can figure it out” Connor said and you laughed.
╰ Synopsis You go to a party just to see Connor, only to watch him with someone else. Until your heartbreak turns into a confession.
tags/contains Connor Bedard x fem!reader. Angst with happy ending, implied jealousy, slight heartbreak, mutual pining, friends to lovers ig.
➺ from Sera, to you📨. Requested. Lowk a bit dramatic, but is it really Sera’s fic if it isn’t a bit dramatic? 👅 looking forward to posting a Gabe’s fic tonight.
masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!
You were never really a party person. Loud music, flashing lights, too many people talking over each other, it wasn’t your thing. But tonight, you went anyway. Because he would be there.
You thought it was just gonna be get together, casual night that your mutual friends threw together. Maybe a few drinks, a few laughs. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just that. Every outfit you tried on tonight had been chosen for him. Every glance in the mirror, every swipe of lipgloss, every small detail was for Connor.
And that was the worst part because he didn’t even know.
The moment you walked in, you saw him. He stood near the kitchen island, shoulders relaxed, laughing with someone, that someone being her. She looked perfect without even trying, wearing confidence like it was her favourite perfume.
She touched his arm as she talked, leaning close enough that he had to dip his head to hear her over the music.
And you just stood there frozen.
You felt the air catch in your throat like you’d been punched in the chest, but you forced a smile anyway, walking past people who greeted you. Someone offered you a drink, and you took it just to keep your hands from shaking.
Connor’s laugh carried across the room, and your heart twisted.
He looked good, just as he always did, hair a little messy, cheeks pink from the heat inside, a half smile on his lips that made it seem like the world existed just to make him happy. And you wanted to be the reason behind his smile. You had always wanted that.
But she was the one making him laugh tonight.
You tried not to stare, but every few seconds, your eyes drifted back to him, as if your body refused to listen to your brain. Every time you looked, it hurt a little more. The music faded into background noise, just a dull thumping that barely reached you.
Someone asked if you were okay. You smiled again, somewhat you practiced hiding everything and meaning nothing.
You weren’t okay.
You always told yourself that being his friend was enough, the late night calls, game nights, and inside jokes were enough. But seeing him like this, with someone else, made it so painfully clear they weren’t.
Because you’d never looked at another guy the way you looked at Connor. And maybe he knew, maybe he always had known. Maybe he just didn’t care, or maybe he didn’t see you the same way which was worse.
You stood there for another minute, drink untouched, chest heavy. Until you couldn’t stand there anymore.
You slipped out of the crowd and made your way toward the door. The night air hit your face like a shock, cool and quiet against the loudness you left behind.
Your heels clicked against the pavement as you walked down the street, your vision blurring until the city lights looked like they were underwater.
You called for a taxi. When it pulled up, you climbed inside, sinking into the backseat.
“Where to?” The driver asked.
You gave him your address, voice barely enough. As the car pulled away, you finally let go.
Tears rolled down your cheeks, hot and fast, and you couldn’t bother wiping them away. You turned your face toward the window, watching the city streak by, neon lights and strangers, laughter and music fading into nothing.
It wasn’t fair. You had come to that party for him. You wanted him to see you, to maybe finally, notice you the way you noticed him. But he hadn’t. Or if he did, it hadn’t mattered.
Your phone buzzed.
You looked down at the screen, vision still blurry from crying
Connor Where’d you go?
Of course he noticed once you were gone.
You stared at the message, thumb hovering over the keyboard. You could tell him the truth, that you left because you couldn’t stand to see him with her. That you’d been in love with him for what felt like forever. That you’d gone to that stupid party just to be near him.
But what would be the point?
You turned the phone face down and leaned your head against the window. The city kept moving, and so did the car.
You didn’t text back. You didn’t have it in you to pretend.
Connor stood in that crowded house, phone in hand, staring at your name. You hadn’t answered. He replayed the night in his head, the moment he had seen you walk in, the way you looked, like something in him had clicked into place.
He wanted to go over to you, to say something, anything, but the girl beside him kept talking, kept laughing, kept pulling him into conversation he didn’t care about.
And now you were gone.
He stepped outside, scanning the street, hoping you might still be there. But you weren’t. Just the loud music fading behind him, and the echo of your name in his head.
He typed another message, then deleted it. Put his phone in his pocket. Looked up at the stars that you were probably crying under.
Inside the cab, you wiped your cheeks, trying to steady your breathing. The driver didn’t ask questions, you were very grateful for that.
You thought to yourself it’s just one night, you’ll get over him eventually. But deep down, you knew better.
Because when it came to Connor, you never really had a choice.
The taxi ride home had felt endless, like every passing streetlight was counting down the seconds you’d wasted wishing for something that would never happen.
When you finally stumbled into your apartment, you kicked off your shoes and leaned against the wall, breath trembling.
You wiped your face, breathing unsteady. The mascara smudged under your eyes burned when you rubbed at it. You stood, wandering toward your bedroom, ready to shut the world out.
Then, a knock came. Your heart sank or maybe it leapt, you couldn’t tell which. You crossed the room and opened the door.
Connor stood there, his hoodie was zipped up, hands buried in the pockets like he didn’t know what to do with them. His eyes searched yours, little guilty.
“Why did you leave so fast?” he asked quietly. “Without saying anything?”
You blinked, still stunned that he was actually there. “I didn’t really think I needed to,” you said.
Connor’s brow furrowed. “You just disappeared.”
You shrugged, crossing your arms. “Well, you seemed busy talking to someone else.”
The pettiness slipped out before you could stop it.
He exhaled, stepping inside when you didn’t tell him to leave. “Why does it matter so much?” He asked, looking at you searching for something. “I thought you didn’t even like parties like that.”
Your throat closed up, and before you could even speak, you felt your eyes sting. A tear slipped down your cheek before you could wipe it away. “I don’t.” You said. “I only went because of you.”
He went still.
You took a shaky breath. “I just wanted to be there. I thought maybe-” you broke off, shaking your head, laughing bitterly through the tears. “God, I don’t even know what I thought.”
Connor’s expression softened immediately, guilt flickering across his face. He stepped closer. “Hey,” he murmured. “Don’t cry.”
But you couldn’t stop. The tears kept coming. “You have no idea what it’s like, Connor. I see you everywhere and i can’t even look at anyone else like that. And you’re just there, talking to some girl like I don’t even exist.”
He shook his head, eyes wide. “It wasn’t even like that.”
You met his gaze. “Then what was it like?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he reached out, his hand brushing your cheek, thumb wiping a tear that had just fallen. You flinched at first, breath catching, but he didn’t move away. His touch was soft like he was afraid you’d disappear if he held you too hard.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly. “I didn’t even know-” he stopped, his voice trailing off. “No. That’s not true. I think I did know.”
You looked up at him.
He sighed, hand still cupping your face. “You think I didn’t notice the way you look at me? I did. I just didn’t know what to do with it. Because everytime you look at me like that, it feels like the ground falls out from under me.”
Your heart was pounding now. “Then why didn’t you say something?”
He gave a small smile. “Because I thought maybe I was the only one who felt it.”
“You’re not.” You whispered.
And that was all it took. His lips found yours, at first it was slow, almost uncertain, like he was afraid you’d pull away. But when you didn’t, when you leaned into him and let your hands rest against his chest, the kiss deepened. It wasn’t really perfect, it was desperate and full of everything you’d both been too scared to say.
When you finally broke apart, your foreheads touched. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
You shook your head, tears still clinging to your lashes. “Mmhmm.”
Connor rubbed the back of his neck. “I should probably-”
“Can you stay?” You said, cutting him off before you could talk yourself out of it. “Only if you want to.”
“Yeah,” he said after a few seconds. “I want to.”
You nodded, turning toward the hallway. “You can grab something. I’ll be right back.”
In the bathroom, you leaned over the sink, rinsing off the last of your make up. The girl staring back at you in the mirror looked tired, but lighter somehow. You brushed your teeth, trying not to think too hard what this all meant.
When you came out, Connor was sitting on the edge of your bed, his phone on the nightstand. He looked up when you entered and smiled.
You slid under the covers beside him, the space between you charged but calm. The lights were off, leaving only the faint glow from the street outside spilling across the sheets.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. You could hear the rhythm of his breathing which somehow matched yours.
“Thank you for coming.” You said quietly.
He turned his head toward you. “I couldn’t just let you leave like that.”
You smiled faintly, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
A few seconds passed, and then you felt his hand find yours under the blanket, fingers brushing first, then gently interlocking. You squeezed once, and he squeezed back.
He shifted closer, close enough that you could feel his warmth against your shoulder. You heard him whisper, “sleep, okay? I’m here.”
╰ Synopsis When you meet Connor in Vancouver, with different interests, still getting closer as friends and romantically, but Connor never asked you to be his girlfriend that summer making you feel it’s just Casual to him.
tags/contains Connor Bedard x reader. Fluff, slight angst, summer fling turning into a relationship, kissing, happy ending, summer romance, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, bittersweet angst.
➺ from Sera, to you📨. Requested. I got carried away so this might be long, so to the anon who requested I’m sorry if you wanted it short, but I just couldn’t 😭
masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it!
You weren’t really a coffee shop regular, but the little one on the corner of main street had become your spot that summer.
Not because of the lattes, they were fine but because the shelves in the back were lined with donated books. The handwritten sign above them read: Take one, leave one, or just sit and read.
You were skimming spines along the bottom shelf one warm June afternoon when someone crouched down beside you, a little too close. You shifted slightly, glancing up.
A boy about your age, maybe a little younger, cap pulled low over messy blond hair, hoodie despite the heat. He looked familiar somehow, but you couldn’t place him.
He exhaled, like he’d been standing there debating for a while. “Uh- sorry. Do you know much about books? I’m trying to find something for my mom. She likes.. I don’t know, stuff with happy endings? But not cheesy romance.”
You blinked, then smiled. “That’s specific.”
“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m out of my depth here. Everything just looks old.”
You laughed softly and reached for a worn paperback you’d noticed earlier. “Try this one. It’s about family more than romance, and it’s sweet without being sappy. My mom loved it.” You handed it to him.
He took it carefully, like it might be more valuable than the faded cover suggested. “You sure? I don’t want her to think I just grabbed the first random thing.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m very picky about what I recommend.”
That earned a grin. “Okay, deal. Thanks.. uh-” He hesitated, shifting the book under his arm. “Mind if I sit for a bit? You seem like you actually know what you’re talking about.”
You raised a brow but nodded toward the small table in the corner. “Sure.”
He followed you over, settling into the seat across from you with that boyish smile still lingering.
His name was Connor. He didn’t tell you his last name, and you didn’t ask. There was something easy about him, like he wasn’t trying too hard, just existing in that moment with you.
He said he was in town just for the summer, visiting family, and he loved hockey which you chalked up to being Canadian. You’d heard that answer a hundred times before, but the way his eyes lit up when he talked about it made it sound like more than just a hobby.
When the conversation shifted, he asked about your book. You explained it clumsily, tripping over astrophysics terms, expecting him to tune out but he didn’t.
He leaned forward on his elbows, chin balanced in one hand, and though he admitted he didn’t get most of it, he listened like he cared anyway.
Every so often, he asked a question, small, curious things like “So, stars can actually die?” or “Wait, time can bend?” and you found yourself smiling more than you realized.
You weren’t sure how long you sat there, words spilling in circles between you. Long enough for your coffee to go lukewarm. Long enough for the late afternoon sun to shift across the floorboards.
When you finally stood to leave, there was that little pause, you weren’t sure if this was supposed to end here. He looked at you and then pulled out his phone. “Can I.. maybe get your number? In case I need more book recommendations. Or, you know, just-”He cut himself off with a sheepish laugh.
You hesitated only a second before sliding your phone across the table. He typed quickly, then handed it back with a grin.
You swapped numbers before you left, honestly you weren’t sure why. Maybe because his smile was a little too contagious. Maybe because something about him felt different, even if you couldn’t name it yet.
That summer in Vancouver stretched in the golden way summers sometimes do, slow and sun drenched, as if time itself had decided to linger.
Connor texted you the very next day: Want to teach me more about stuff you know? 🫢
You laughed at your phone before typing back, you suspected he wasn’t really interested in all that stuff, but who knows.
By the afternoon, you were meeting in Stanley Park. The city buzzed in the distance, but it felt far away as the two of you wandered under trees that whispered in the warm breeze.
He confessed that his world was ice rinks and early mornings, games and training. You confessed that yours was lectures and library corners, more comfortable in theories than in crowds.
Somehow, the differences made the conversations easier, like neither of you was expected to be anyone but yourselves.
He liked asking questions about why stars die, about whether time travel could ever be real. You liked watching the way his face lit up when you gave him answers, even clumsy ones, like every thought you offered was the most fascinating thing he’d heard all week.
And the more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself craving it again. You would catch yourself waiting for his texts, refreshing your phone when he hadn’t messaged yet, smiling before you even realized it when his name finally lit up your screen.
Each walk stretched longer than the last, every conversation spilling into another, until even the silences felt warm and comfortable.
Somewhere between iced coffees and long park trails, you realized it wasn’t just the novelty of a summer friendship anymore it was him.
The way he listened, the way he made you laugh, the way every day ended with you wanting the next one to come faster, just so you could see him again.
And then one night, when the city lights shimmered off the water, he kissed you.
You had been sitting on a bench along the seawall, the air warm but softened by a salty breeze. The skyline glowed across the inlet, tall buildings mirrored in the dark surface of the water, and the world felt suspended, just the two of you in your own bubble.
Connor was quieter than usual, his shoulder brushing against yours every so often, like he couldn’t quite decide if it was an accident or not.
You were in the middle of rambling about something, when you noticed he wasn’t answering right away.
“What?” you asked, laughing nervously, suddenly self conscious.
He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Nothing. You just like to talk a lot. In a good way, of course.”
“That’s a weird compliment.”
“It’s a good one, I promise.” he said softly. His gaze held yours for a beat too long, his usual easy grin faltering into something more uncertain. You could see it, the thought flickering across his mind, same as yours.
You should have looked away. But instead, you leaned the tiniest bit closer.
He noticed, his hand twitched like he wanted to reach for yours, but before either of you could overthink it, he leaned in.
The kiss was hesitant at first, more a question than an answer, lips brushing tentatively against yours. Your heart jumped, then steadied in the warmth of it, and you kissed him back.
When he pulled away, just enough to look at you, there was a softness in his eyes that made your chest ache.
“Sorry.” he whispered, though he didn’t sound sorry at all.
“Don’t be..” you murmured. And before the moment could break, you kissed him again, the city glowing behind you, the night stitched together with a promise.
You both pretended it was casual, just a summer thing. You told yourself it didn’t mean much, even as you found yourself learning the bus routes to the rink where he skated, even as he started showing up outside your apartment with coffee “just because.”
It was sweet and simple, maybe just temporary.
Atleast it was supposed to be.
But after that kiss, something inside you shifted. It felt too real to file away as just a fling. You caught yourself wondering if he felt it too, if maybe he wanted more than just borrowed days and fleeting nights. And yet, he never asked. Never called you his girlfriend.
He continued to text you first thing in the morning, still laughed at your lame jokes, still found excuses to see you almost every day but the word hung unspoken between you.
Girlfriend. It never left his lips, and the longer it went unsaid, the heavier it became.
So you smiled and played along, but in the quiet moments: on bus rides home, in the half hour before sleep, you let yourself wonder if maybe to him, you were nothing more than casual after all.
And the thought made your chest ache in a way you tried not to admit, even to yourself.
By the end of August, you knew who he was. Not from him, he never bragged but from overhearing two teenage boys at the cafe whisper that’s Connor Bedard. You googled later, heart hammering, and the articles filled in the blanks.
Hockey’s big thing. Already carrying a city’s hopes, his life wasn’t just busy it was about to explode. And you realised why he was in town just for summer.
When you asked him about it, he gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“Didn’t want it to be the first thing you knew about me,” he said softly.
September loomed and he had to leave for training back to Chicago. You had classes starting again, neither of you said the words you wanted to. Instead, you sat side by side on a park bench the night before he left, your head against his shoulder, his thumb brushing circles into your palm.
“I hate that it has to be this way.” you whispered.
“Me too.” He pressed his cheek against your hair. “But we knew, right? Summer doesn’t last.”
You swallowed hard. “Doesn’t make it easier.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I’ll text you,” he finally said. “Even if I’m busy and even if I’m tired, I’ll text you.”
You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak and when he kissed you goodnight, it didn’t feel temporary at all.
The weeks after were strange. He was suddenly everywhere: highlights on tv, articles online, people buzzing about him in shops.
And yet, your phone buzzed too. A selfie from the team bus, a blurry picture of a meal of his, a miss you at midnight that made your chest ache.
It wasn’t the same, of course but it wasn’t nothing.
The nights were the hardest. You missed him most then, when the apartment was quiet, when the bed felt bigger than it should, when all you wanted was his hoodie brushing against your arm or the sound of his laugh cutting through the silence.
Forgetting him should have been easier, you thought. He was gone, wrapped up in a world too big and fast for you.
But every time you started to think maybe you could let go, your phone would light up with his name, his picture, his voice message, just enough to keep him close, even from miles away.
And you really didn’t want to let go.
One night, halfway through the season, you sat in that same cafe with your book. Someone new sat across from you, asking what you were reading, and for a split second you thought maybe you should move on.
Connor was gone, his world spinning faster than ever, and yours was still here.
But then your phone lit up with his name. Wish you were here tonight. I scored a goal for you. :)
You smiled, closed your book, and typed back. Wish I was too. I’ll save you a coffee when you’re home.
That night, your phone buzzed again with facetime call. You answered, the glow of your lamp lighting your face as Connor’s filled the screen.
He was sprawled out on a hotel bed, hair damp from a shower, a shirt that hugged his biceps too good to be true.
“Hi,” he said, his grin soft and a little tired.
“Hi,” you whispered, suddenly aware of how much you missed him.
For a while, you just talked, nothing huge, just small things. His game, your classes. The new store you discovered in Vancouver and It felt like slipping back into a rhythm that belonged only to the two of you.
Then he got quiet for a beat, eyes flicking away from the screen before finding yours again. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
He chewed on his lip. “Would you ever be down to come out to Chicago? I mean, I know you’ve got school and everything, and it’s a lot, but-” He broke off, running a hand through his hair. “I really want you to see this part of my life too. Not just the texts and the late night calls.”
Your heart fluttered in your chest. The idea of it, of actually going, of seeing him in his world felt both terrifying and impossibly exciting.
You smiled softly at the screen. “Yeah,” you said, surprising yourself with how certain you sounded. “I’d be down.”
His whole face lit up at your answer, the grin you missed stretching wide across his face. “Really?”
“Really.”
The flight to Chicago felt endless, your leg bouncing the whole way, nerves and excitement tangled so tight you could hardly sit still. You kept scrolling through your texts with Connor, rereading the can’t wait to see you he’d sent that morning, like it might steady your heart.
By the time you walked off the plane and into the airport, your chest was buzzing with anticipation. Connor had sent you his hotel address, and the taxi ride there felt like forever, the skyline flashing past in streaks of gray and gold.
You knocked on the door with your suitcase at your side, and before you could even take a breath, it swung open.
He was there, messy hair, sweats, that grin you missed so much it hurt. He pulled you into his arms before either of you said a word, holding you so tight you could barely breathe and you didn’t want him to let go.
“Hi,” he murmured against your hair, his voice muffled and warm.
“Hi,” you whispered back, smiling into his hoodie.
The hotel room was ordinary, but with him there, it felt like everything. You dropped your bag, and he pulled you to the bed, both of you talking at once, tripping over words and laughter until he kissed you quick, soft, like he had to remind himself you were really there.
The game the next night was electric. He left you a ticket at will call, and his jersey with his name on the back, you found your seat just as the arena lights dimmed, crowd roaring around you.
Connor skated out with his team, the number 98 bright on his back, and your stomach flipped. You hadn’t expected to feel so proud, or so nervous, just watching him skate across the ice.
During warmups, he skated by the boards where you sat and flipped his stick up in a quick wave, grin flashing before he disappeared into the play again.
And when the game started, you swore you barely blinked, afraid to miss a single second.
It was fast and Connor was at the center of it. Every shift he took, the crowd surged louder, and you joined in.
At one point, midway through the second period, he got tangled up with an opposing player near the boards and before you knew it, the ref’s whistle was blaring and he had two minutes in the box.
Your heart stuttered but not entirely from worry. He was flushed, jaw set, eyes sparking with something fierce.
And you couldn’t lie: he was attractive like that, fire in his veins, adrenaline dripping off every move. You clapped anyway, because even sitting in the penalty box, he looked like he belonged to the game.
The rest of the night was a blur. He scored once and by the end, his team pulled out the win.
After the game, you waited till he came out of the locker room and made your way back to his hotel room.
“Looks better on you than me,” he teased when he saw you in his jersey.
You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself. “You were amazing tonight.”
He pulled you onto the bed beside him, the jersey bunching as his hand slipped into yours. For a moment, it was quiet, just his thumb brushing circles into your palm, your head tucked against his shoulder.
Then he shifted, turning to face you more fully, nerves flickering in his eyes. “Can I ask you something?”
You tilted your head, heartbeat quickening. “Of course.”
He exhaled, like he’d been holding it in for weeks. “I know you might’ve thought it was just casual or just a summer thing, because I never asked the question. But I don’t want it to be, not with you. I don’t want to keep pretending.” His voice dropped. “Will you be my girlfriend?”
For a second, the world stilled. All the nights you had laid awake wondering if he felt the same, all the doubts that had sat heavy in your chest, they all broke apart in an instant.
Your smile bloomed before you could stop it, and you nodded, maybe a little too quickly. “Yeah,” you breathed. “I will.”
Relief and joy flashed across his face all at once, and then he kissed you, deep and certain this time, no hesitation left.
His hand cupped your cheek, your fingers twisted in his hoodie.
need to give bedsy the sloppiest top ever, need him to be whining and whimpering and begging to cum. need him to roughly guide my head when he gets tired of the teasing and praises me for giving him exactly what he needs
just a reoccurring thought or whatever 🙄🤷🏻♀️
I feel so bad for him all the time he needs consolidatory head for putting up with Chicago for so long 😭
He would be so pretty with his head thrown back against the headboard and his chest heaving as his moans catch in his throat. It's almost impossible to comprehend how just the feeling of your hands on his skin can make the weight of the world melt down his shoulders like water. He's not gonna say it but he's thankful, maybe it's hard for him to thread his thoughts together while his tip hits the back of your throat over and over.
Normally he's much more of a giver but after the season he's had he'll take whatever he can get. He doesn't wanna do anything wrong or stop you by any means but it's getting hard to keep his hands to himself, all he wants is to lace his fingers into your hair and fuck your throat raw but he knows he won't last long enough to really enjoy it how he wants.
Thankfully for him, this isn't enough for you either. You reach out to drag one of his hands up to the back of your head, looking up at him with the prettiest puppy eyes that make his cock twitch in your mouth. You want it just as bad as he does, this is for him anyway so why hold back? Your nails dig into his muscular thighs to brace yourself a bit as he picks up the pace and you're more than happy to let him use you to tears.
SUMMARY working as a photographer for the chicago blackhawks meant keeping things professional. but when connor starts seeking you out after every practice, your carefully built boundaries begin to blur. he was two years younger, driven, and infuriatingly charming. and maybe you were starting to fall for him.
word count 1.1k
warnings fluff, slow burn, mutual pining, workplace romance, slight age gap, reader is (barely) a cougar
note thank you anon for requesting! i accidentally deleted your ask, but i had a lot of fun writing this <3 and sorry guys, i promise my next post will be for my 1k celebration 🙏
CB98 MASTERLIST MAIN MASTERLIST
YOUR CAMERA WAS heavy in your hands as you snapped another series of shots, the shutter clicking rapidly as Connor flew down the ice, his speed almost impossible to capture. You’d been photographing practices for a while now, but no one moved like him.
He deked around a defender, his movements fluid and precise, before sending a wrist shot straight into the top corner of the net. The puck hit the mesh with a satisfying snap, and Connor’s face lit up, his grin visible even from behind the plexiglass.
You barely managed to catch the moment, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as his teammates hollered in approval. He was something else, a rising star who was already living up to the hype. You couldn’t help but admire his determination, his focus. Not that you’d ever tell him that.
The whistle blew, signaling the end of practice, and the players began filtering off the ice. You stayed in your spot by the boards, scrolling through the shots to pick out the best ones for the team’s social media. You were so focused that you didn’t notice him approaching until he spoke.
“Did you get my good side?”
You jumped, your head snapping up to find Connor leaning on the boards right in front of you, his hair damp and sticking up messily, his grin playful.
You tried to ignore the way your heart skipped. “I don’t think you have a bad side.”
His eyebrows shot up, clearly not expecting that. You cursed yourself internally for letting that slip. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “Mind if I see?”
You hesitated but turned the camera his way. “They’re not edited yet, so don’t judge too harshly.”
Connor leaned closer, his face just inches from yours as he squinted at the screen. You could catch the faint scent of his cologne, clean and subtle, and you did your best to keep your focus.
“These are awesome,” he said, genuine admiration in his voice. “You make us look better than we are.”
You rolled your eyes, shaking off the flutter in your chest. “I just capture what’s there.”
His gaze lingered on you a little too long, his voice softening. “You’re really good at it.”
You felt warmth spread through you but kept your tone light. “Flattery won’t get you free prints, Bedard.”
He laughed, his eyes crinkling. “Good to know.”
You turned back to your camera, pretending to adjust the settings, but his presence was impossible to ignore. He didn’t leave, just stood there, casually leaning on the boards as he sipped from his water bottle. It was distracting. It always was when he was around.
“You’re always here early,” he noted, his voice casual. “Don’t you get tired of taking the same shots every day?”
“Don’t you get tired of skating around in circles?” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.
He chuckled, his shoulders shaking. “Touché.” He paused, his tone more thoughtful. “I just meant… you’re always here before most of the team. You work hard.”
You blinked, not expecting the compliment. “I like getting the candid moments. The behind-the-scenes stuff. It’s more real than the action shots.”
He watched you with a curiosity that made your cheeks warm. “Yeah, I get that. You’re good at catching those moments. Makes everything feel… I don’t know. More alive, I guess.”
You looked away, your heart doing that annoying fluttering thing again. “Thanks.”
He smiled, his eyes softening. “You’re welcome.”
You busied yourself by packing up your equipment, desperate to break the tension. “I should get these edited and posted. Coach wants the social media updated before the end of the day.”
Connor’s expression shifts, almost like he didn’t want the conversation to end. “Right. Of course.” He hesitated, then asked, “You got plans after?”
You froze, your heart stuttering. “Why?”
He shrugged, trying to sound casual but not quite pulling it off. “I figured you’d be hungry after working through practice. We could grab food. If you want.”
Your mind screams at you to say no. You were two years older, you had a job to do, and getting too close to the players was definitely not professional. But he was looking at you with that hopeful, lopsided grin, and you found yourself saying, “Okay. But just this once.”
His face lit up. “Sure.”
He waited while you packed up your camera bag, walking with you out of the arena. The Chicago wind was brutal, biting through your jacket as you made your way down the street to a diner he swore had the best burgers in the city.
Inside, it was warm and cozy, the windows fogged up from the heat. You settled into a booth, trying to ignore the curious looks from other patrons who clearly recognized him. Connor didn’t seem to care, his focus entirely on you.
“So, what got you into photography?” he asked, leaning forward with genuine interest.
You fiddled with the edge of your menu, feeling unexpectedly shy. “I’ve always liked capturing moments. The way a photo can tell a story… I don’t know. It just clicked for me.”
He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “I get that. You’ve got an eye for it. Makes sense you’d be good at something you love.”
Your cheeks warmed, and you quickly looked away. “Thanks.”
The conversation flowed easily after that, his charm disarming you despite your best efforts. He was surprisingly down-to-earth, his stories filled with humour and humility. You found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time.
When you finally glanced at the clock, your eyes widened. “I didn’t realize it was this late. I should get going.”
Connor’s smile faltered just for a second. “I’ll walk you back.”
You tried to protest, but he wouldn’t hear it, insisting on making sure you got to your car safely. As you reached the parking lot, you turned to thank him, but the words caught in your throat.
He was standing closer than you expected, his eyes searching yours. “This was fun,” he said, his voice soft. “I like talking to you.”
Your heart thudded, and you cursed the butterflies in your stomach. “Yeah… it was nice.”
His gaze dropped to your lips for just a moment, and your breath hitched. But he took a step back, his hands shoved into his pockets as he looked away. “I’ll see you at the next practice?”
You nodded, struggling to find your voice. “Yeah. See you then.”
He hesitated, then flashed you one last smile before turning and walking away, his figure fading into the night. You stood there, your heart racing, knowing that things would never be the same.
“don’t you know what you’re doing to me?” with connor bernard please? 💕
oh hey so i went very much feral. combined with this ask!
"don't you know what you're doing to me?" + "you look good like this" from this subtle smut list. part of my mini writing event, now closed!
connor bedard x f!reader, NSFW 18+. no explicit sex but like. sexy photos and plenty of sex talk. also slapping. and bondage.
“mm, you look good like this,” connor murmurs, his hands pulling away from the silk ropes keeping you tied to the headboard. your body is stretched out for him, thigh-high stockings covering the expanse of your legs, and his jersey thrown over your chest. “spread for me?”
you flush in embarrassment but do as you’re told, displaying the wet patch at the center of your cotton panties to him.
“fuck, don’t you know what you’re doing to me baby?” he asks, voice strained. he holds up that stupid pink polaroid camera your little sister gifted him, aiming the lens at your pretty pussy. he gets up close and personal, placing his hand possessively on your inner thigh.
“con,” you whine, turning your face to the side as he snaps a picture. “come on, do you have to do this?” you ask him, already tired of the lack of direct attention you’re getting.
“mmhm, totally necessary babe,” he responds, crawling up the bed to push his thumb between your lips. flash.
before you know what’s happening, he slaps you across the face, taking a picture of your reaction. you whine, the sting sending waves of pleasure down your spine and into your core. “good, good girl. that’s it,” he murmurs, cupping your cheek and kissing you sweetly while the photos sit to the side to develop.
there’s more innocent ones somewhere. a picture of you on a picnic date, one of the two of you kissing, one of connor and your cat. but this kind of photo has been his favorite to take. he’s gone through loads of film, taking pictures of your swollen lips, the bruises on your chest and neck, your bare back and messy hair, all of it.
you can’t even touch him, but you can kiss back with the kind of passion you know makes your boyfriend weak in the knees. you suck his tongue into your mouth, hips bucking against his own in a desperate attempt to make him give in.
but of course, connor pulls away. his fingers toy with the waistband of your panties, finally slipping them down, and still not touching you. the flash goes off again, and you know you’re in for a long night.
I know you did a mutual virginity loss for Connie Bedard, but can we get one where he is acting like a big hot shot until the reader allows his advances and it comes out that he is a virgin and has no idea what to do so basically the reader ruins him.
It’s always the player ruining the reader, but I want it the other way around for once.
Please and thank you ❤️
nsfw themes below but not full-on sex
connor bedard has been on your ass for months. ever since he started hanging around with your friend group, flashing that cocky, dimpled smirk, running his mouth about how good he is—with his hands, his tongue, his thick hockey thighs—you’ve been batting him away like a persistent gnat. charming, sure. hot, obviously. but he’s the type who knows it, wears it like armor, thinks he can talk his way into anyone’s bed just because he’s got a killer slapshot and a six-pack. so you let him run his mouth. let him flirt, let him stare, let him crowd into your space at parties, his hand sliding just a little too low on your back, his voice dropping when he tells you exactly how good he’d make you feel if you’d just give him the chance. but you never do. you just roll your eyes, sip your drink, and watch him try again.
but tonight? tonight’s different. maybe it’s the alcohol humming in your veins, maybe it’s the heat of the room, or maybe it’s just the way connor’s looking at you—hungrier than usual, like he’s convinced tonight’s the night he finally wins. when he pulls you onto the couch next to him, his palm branding hot against your thigh, you don’t brush him off. when he leans in, beer and cocky arrogance on his breath, murmuring, “so, you finally ready to stop pretending you don’t want me?”—you don’t roll your eyes. you smirk. tilt your head. and you say, “fine. prove it.”
the way his eyes darken? priceless. the way his fingers flex, digging into your leg like he’s already imagining it wrapped around his waist? even better. within minutes, you’re in his room, pressed against the door, his lips crushed against yours. and fuck, he’s good at this—better than you expected. his hands are everywhere, gripping, pulling, like he can’t decide what he wants to touch first. and you’re not gonna lie, it’s hot. his desperation, the way he’s groaning into your mouth like he’s been waiting for this forever.
but then—then you go for his belt. slow, deliberate. tugging the leather free, fingers brushing over the bulge beneath his pants, feeling the way his whole body goes stiff. and that’s when it happens.
he freezes. like, full stop. breath catching, hands flexing uselessly at your waist. and when you glance up? that cocky confidence is gone. wiped clean. in its place? panic. actual, real, deer-in-the-headlights panic.
“uh,” he says.
you pause, eyebrow raised. “uh?”
his throat bobs. he licks his lips. doesn’t meet your eyes.
oh. oh.
you grin. slow. predatory. “connie,” you purr, dragging a finger up the line of his stomach, feeling the way he shudders, “are you a virgin?”
he opens his mouth. shuts it. opens it again.
“…no.”
he is. you can see it all over him. the nervous swallow, the way his hands tighten, the sudden, almost comical loss of bravado.
holy. fucking. shit.
you let the moment stretch. let him sweat. then, leaning in, lips brushing his jaw, you whisper, “oh, baby. you’re in trouble.”
Hi <3 Connor Bedard 💌 sweetheart: "Can I walk with you? It would make me feel better."
a/n: thank you for requesting! (not edited)
pairing: connor bedard x athletic trainer!reader
—
You loved your job, it was a new beginning in your life, brought you many adventures and stories to tell along the way, and it always kept you entertained. You had made an array of new friends, making the adjustments to your new lifestyle that much easier. And it only made things better with there being a specific player that made your job even more eventful.
You were hired a few months after the 2023 draft, and you followed hockey closely, granted it was the field of your career and what you were pursuing, but you knew his name regardless. It floated around, lingering every where you went. From social media, to class, to internships— Connor Bedard was the next superstar of the draft class.
When you met him, however, it took you by surprise. From the outside perspectives of media, he seemed like such a stoic figure. He was quiet, reserved and disciplined. So when you found yourself standing alongside the rest of the training staff on development day, you wouldn't have expected to hear his chipper voice introducing himself and extending a polite hand to shake.
He was charismatic, humble, and you noticed as days past, he was more than what the outside world perceived him to be, and as the season began, you knew he was a force to be reckoned with.
Being able to work and support the team for the past two years, along with learning something new every time you stepped into work— you truly came to appreciate your job.
What you appreciated even more, was the specific someone who always seemed to linger after practice, after games and showed up a few minutes before the scheduled time, just so he could see you.
You wouldn't have expected Connor and you to bond the way that you did, but since first meeting him, what started as a professional relationship, had erupted and blossomed into a genuine, refreshing friendship where you found yourself laughing so hard your cheeks and stomach hurt and tears filled the brims of your eyes. He'd make such an effort to be the light of the room, you couldn't help but notice how he showed a side of himself to you that the rest of the world had seen, and in that moment, you knew there was something lingering beneath the surface.
You started catching yourself holding your own gaze in his direction longer than you intended, feeling your heartbeat begin to quicken in pace when he'd enter a room or call out your name. Or even catching yourself smiling down at your phone when he had texted you more context for a story he had told you earlier in the day.
But it wasn't as if you were the only one experiencing the shift in friendship. You knew Connor felt slightly similar to you, in that you found his eyes meeting yours more often, he'd make more of an effort to stay behind and talk after practices and games, and he'd truly attempt to get to know you— and your heart swelled every time you heard him laugh or smile.
Before you knew it, you were in deep, and you had found yourself in a self-proclaimed situationship, given your circumstances were skewed, but you knew there was a line both of you were hesitating to cross.
It was another rough ending to the night, the Blackhawks had fallen short against yet another opposing team, and heavy heads and shoulders piled into the locker room, a thick silence following between bodies.
You busied yourself with your tasks for the end of the night, hearing the murmurs of teammates and coaching staff reviewing the results of the game. And you watched as the players slowly made their way out the locker room and towards the exit of the arena, you couldn't help but search for the specific set of blue eyes and brown hair.
It had seemed like more time had passed than what actually had, but finally the sorrow eyes of Connor met yours, his belongings tucked underneath his arm as he carried himself towards you.
"Hey, sorry about the turnout, you guys did a great job tonight— played really well despite all things." You exasperated through a breath, but you knew your words would only be heard as a mere comment, meaningless despite your support.
Connor let out a rough breath, eyes blinking slowly, "Yeah, I just wish I could've done more."
You tilt your head and reach a hand to place on the side of his bicep, "Hey, c'mon, it was more than just you. You guys are a team out there." You comforted, your voice laced with sympathy at Connor's mood. Your heart ache at the sight, wanting to be able to do more to show your care to Connor, but you held your breath, still hesitating to cross that line. "Is there anything I can do to help?" You asked softly, meeting his eyes again that were focused on the ground.
Connor's lips parted, hesitating to speak, his eyes forcing shut in contemplation before he spoke, "Yeah, actually, uh— can I walk with you out of here? It honestly would make me feel better." He confessed and you could see and feel the weight being lifted off his chest when you kindly nodded your head, pushing yourself off the wall to begin walking towards the exit of the building.
And as you reached the doors, you slowed your steps, turning to face Connor. His hands were tucked in his pockets, he was quiet and you knew his mind was racing, so you reached another comforting hand to his shoulder, but when you felt the fabric of his hoodie against your hand, you didn't expect his body to turn closer to you, closing the space between you.
Connor licked his lips, his eyes flickering down to your lips, then meeting your eyes again as his chest rose and fell heavily. "I, uh— thank you for your support, y'know. It means a lot." He weakly smiled, making your stomach flutter at the sight.
"Anytime, Connor." You smiled back, eyes darting to the side before looking back and seeing Connor wet his lips with his tongue. It was as if your eyes spoke silent words, flickering back and forth between each eye and slipping to each other's lips, the silence of the arena after hours filling the space. But before you could think, processing and making a decision, Connor's hand met the side of your face, delicately holding your jaw as his lips connected with yours.
Your eyes fluttered shut, inhaling sharply through your nose at the contact and instinctively placing your hands in his biceps to ground yourself, when you pulled away, meeting his gaze once again, you took in the sight of his red, swollen and wet lips, earning a grin to leak on your face, heating rushing through your body and letting a giggle escape your throat.
Summary : Yn loses her virginity to Connor. When they wake up, he realizes she’s in a little pain and helps her.
Warnings : p in v, virginity loss, +18 smut, mention of sex, nicknames, MDNI, after care, overstimulation, fingering
A/n : It’s my first fanfiction, sorry for the mistakes. I hope you will enjoy it.
You wake up thanks to the first rays of sun that cross the curtains. Connor is asleep next to you, his face is peaceful. You can't help but think back to last night when you lost your virginity. You spent an important cape with the man you love. You want to turn around so you can snuggle in his arms but you feel a sharp pain in your lower body. You let a moan of pain leave your lips, putting you back in your initial position.
You didn't notice that your moaning waking up Connor. His eyebrows furrow. "Are you in pain, how much?”, he asks, straightening up in bed to see you better.
His muscles tighten when he wants to take you in his arms but your eyebrows furrow following the pain.
Connor can't stand the fact that you're in pain. And he starts to think too much. He would have wondered what he could have done to make you less bad. You notice his expression and put your hand on his cheek. "You made sure it didn't hurt last night. But you couldn't expect me not to feel something this morning”, you said, trying to reassure him. "I want to see”, he told you before hugging you and diving between your legs. You melt on the mattress and all the air is expelled from your lungs when he kisses the tender flesh of your thigh. His breath touching your cunt. You blow. "Your menthol breath helps.” Connor looks up at you. "Don't leave the room. I'll be back in twenty minutes.”
"Where are you going?”, you raise your head watching him leave.
Fifteen minutes later, you still haven't moved. You hear his hasty steps that echo in the living room. He enters the room with a small brown paper bag. "Where were you?”. "At the pharmacy, he said”, sitting at the foot of the bed. He takes a blue tube out of the bag, then presses a hazelnut of transparent gel on his index finger. "What is it?” He rubs the gel on your pussy. "Cold effect lubricant. How is it? Better?”, "Oh fuck...”, you moan when he pushes two fingers into you. "I hold you baby”, he said a voice thick of emotions. "I would always do you good."
His fingers move slowly in your pussy, spreading the lubricant on your walls. The cold relaxes you and you no longer feel any pain. Connor is looking at you. Your eyes are closed. Your body is starting to feel more and more pleasure. You moan more and more. "Go and come on my fingers.” You cum some time later under the pleasure that his fingers give you. "I love you”, he said. "I love you too.”
Connor having a bad game and just being rough😵💫😵💫
NSFW blurb below - rough p in v
connor’s hands are firm on your hips, gripping so tight you’re sure there’ll be bruises tomorrow. he’s behind you, driving into you with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs, each thrust sending you forward against the mattress, your knees barely holding you up. his chest presses against your back, hot and damp with sweat, his breath ragged in your ear as he moves like he’s trying to fuck the frustration out of his system.
you moan his name, your voice shaky and breathless, and it earns you a low, guttural sound from him, somewhere between a grunt and a growl. his fingers dig into your skin, pulling you back to meet each punishing thrust, the sound of his hips slamming against your ass echoing in the room, loud and filthy.
“connor,” you gasp, your hands fisting in the sheets, trying to brace yourself against the sheer intensity of him. “fuck—slow down—”
he doesn’t. if anything, he speeds up, his cock sliding in and out of you in long, deep strokes that have you seeing stars. he’s not usually like this—he’s rough sometimes, sure, but never this relentless, never this desperate. it’s like he’s chasing something, trying to lose himself in you, and it makes your chest ache even as heat pools low in your belly.
“too much?” he mutters, his voice low and gravelly, barely audible over the sound of your bodies meeting. his lips brush against your ear, his breath hot as he speaks, and the weight of him against your back is overwhelming.
“no—fuck, no,” you manage to choke out, your voice breaking on the words. your body clenches around him, and he groans, the sound deep and rough, like he’s barely holding it together.
“yeah?” he murmurs, his tone softer now, but his hips don’t let up, his thrusts still hard and fast, hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. his hand slides up your side, rough fingertips dragging over your skin, leaving a burning trail in their wake.
“yeah,” you breathe, your voice trembling, and he grunts in response, his head dipping to press his lips against the back of your neck.
his teeth scrape lightly against your skin, not quite biting, and the sharp sting makes you gasp, your back arching as pleasure shoots through you. “fuck, connor—”
he doesn’t say anything, just makes a low, satisfied sound deep in his throat, his hand leaving your hip to slide between your legs. his fingers find your clit, slick and swollen, and he starts rubbing slow, tight circles that make your whole body shudder.
you cry out, your knees buckling, and his arm snakes around your waist, holding you up, keeping you exactly where he wants you. “stay with me,” he grunts, his voice rough and commanding, and you can feel the tension in him, the way he’s holding himself back, barely.
“i’m—fuck, connor, i’m close,” you pant, your head dropping forward as your body starts to tremble, every nerve ending lighting up under his touch.
“uh huh,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, and there’s a bit of satisfaction in the sound, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. his thrusts grow sharper, more erratic, and his fingers press harder against your clit, dragging you closer and closer to the edge.
when you finally come, it’s like a tidal wave crashing over you, your whole body clenching around him, your vision going white. you scream his name, your nails digging into the mattress, and he groans, his hips stuttering as he fucks you through it, his cock pulsing inside you.
Maybe after a good win or something, he pulls you over the console into his lap and you just make out for a bit
ᡴꪫ ࣪ ݂ post game make outs with connor?? say less nonnie . . .
connor is always angsty to see you after a game. especially after a good win. there’s just so much energy in him that he doesn’t even know what to do with it …
“thanks for coming tonight baby,” he says as both of you get in the car, ready to go home.
“always. I love watching you play,” you reply sending him a soft smile and he can’t but reach over, gently cupping your cheek as he leans over the console to connect your lips. his lips chase yours as you pull away, not ready to let you go just yet.
his hands move to your waist pulling you closer and closer to him until eventually you maneuver yourself over the console, over to his seat and onto his lap, straddling him
connor tries to help, moving his seat back as far as it could go, his hands reclaiming their position on your hips
“you look so pretty in my jersey. my name on your back,” connor says, trailing kisses down your neck and his hands sneak underneath the jersey you’re wearing, caressing your bare skin
“you played so good baby. my little superstar. I wish you could realize how good you really are. how many people was at this game tonight just for you. you’re-“ you go to praise your boyfriend some more but get caught off by his lips against yours once again
connor’s hands drop to your ass, squeezing the jean-clad flesh in his hands. god connor loves you in jeans !!
“m’so proud of you con,” you say and he lets out a little whimper as you tug on his hair and press a kiss just beneath his ear, trailing your lips down to his neck. he had the perfect neck to smother in kisses and you often took the opportunity to do so.
“fuck. we should head home baby,” connor says half heartedly as you start to unbutton his white shirt.
“you wanna stop and go home?” you mumble against his collarbone and he drops his head back against the seat.
“don’t want to, but if we don’t we’re gonna end up fucking here in the rink parking lot. might wanna finish my rookie season before doing something like that,” connor jokes and you let out a soft laugh
“next time then,” you say, buttoning his shirt again and he sends you a promising grin
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