connor with the most absurd meet cute you can think of
wrong number | cb98
requests are open | navigation
The call comes in the middle of a perfectly scheduled afternoon.
You’re at your kitchen counter with your laptop open, color-coded calendar pulled up, answering emails between bites of a late lunch. Your life functions on reminders and lists and the quiet satisfaction of things getting done on time.
Your phone buzzes.
Unknown Chicago number.
You almost silence it. You hate unscheduled phone calls.
You answer anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” a woman says, brisk and professional. “Is this the emergency contact for Connor Bedard?”
You frown. “I’m sorry, for who?”
“Connor Bedard. He was brought into Northwestern Memorial about fifteen minutes ago. We’re trying to reach his emergency contact.”
There’s a subtle shift in the air around you. Like something small but heavy has been placed on your chest.
“I think you have the wrong number,” you say carefully. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
A pause. Keyboard clicks.
“This is the only number listed. You’re saved under ICE.”
ICE. In Case of Emergency.
Your brain runs through possibilities the way it does when a plan goes wrong. Wrong digit. Old number. Administrative error.
“That’s not possible,” you say. “I’m not— I don’t know him.”
“He was struck by a vehicle in the middle of an intersection,” she continues, gentler now. “He’s stable. Likely a concussion. We just need someone here.”
Struck by a vehicle.
Your hand tightens around the phone.
“I’m sorry,” you repeat, because that’s the rational answer. “I can’t help.”
You hang up.
You stand very still in your kitchen.
Then you look at your calendar.
Then at your front door.
You do not do things like this. You do not abandon your afternoon because of clerical errors involving strangers. You do not insert yourself into messy, unpredictable situations.
You grab your coat anyway.
Northwestern Memorial smells like antiseptic and stale coffee and too many emotions packed into fluorescent lighting.
You approach the front desk like you’re checking into a hotel you didn’t book.
“Hi,” you say. “I got a call earlier. About Connor Bedard?”
The nurse looks up, scanning your face.
“You’re the emergency contact?”
You straighten. “Apparently.”
She nods. “He’s still unconscious. Concussion. Some bruising. You can sit with him.”
You don’t correct her. You don’t know why.
Maybe because you already came this far. Maybe because someone should be there.
He looks younger than you expect.
That’s your first coherent thought when you step into the room.
You know the name now, you googled him in the elevator and nearly dropped your phone when you realized exactly who you accidentally became responsible for. A professional hockey player too young for hospital rooms.
He’s pale against the white pillow. There’s a cut at his temple. His mouth is slightly open in sleep, like his body gave up mid-sentence.
You set your bag down quietly.
His clothes are folded in a plastic bin on the chair. Hoodie. Sweatpants. Sneakers unlaced.
You hesitate.
Then you start organizing.
You smooth the hoodie out properly. Refold it neatly. Line up his shoes. Stack everything so it looks intentional instead of abandoned.
It makes you feel less helpless.
His wallet is in a clear belongings bag. You check his ID, because you need to confirm this is real.
Connor Bedard.
It is.
You exhale slowly.
“Okay,” you murmur to him, even though he can’t hear you. “You’re fine. This is fine.”
You call the towing company listed on the police slip in his pocket. You handle it efficiently. You take notes in your phone. You ask practical questions.
You do not think about the fact that you are essentially cosplaying as someone important in his life.
When you sit down beside him, it’s almost evening.
The room is dimmer. Quieter.
You watch the steady rise and fall of his chest.
You don’t mean to stare.
But you do.
You notice the crease between his eyebrows. The way one hand curls slightly against the blanket. The faint flush under his skin where bruises are forming.
You feel… responsible.
Which is insane.
You don’t know him.
Still, you reach out and adjust the blanket where it’s slipped.
An hour later, his fingers twitch.
You sit up immediately.
“Hey,” you say, too quickly. “Hi. You’re okay.”
His face tightens. He makes a small, confused sound. His eyelids flutter open.
His eyes land on you.
They’re clearer than you expect. Sharp. Assessing.
He stares.
You stare back.
There’s a long silence.
Then, hoarsely, “Are you the lady who hit me with your car?”
Your jaw drops. “What? No.”
His brows draw together. He looks around the room, then back at you.
“Then why are you here?”
You cross your arms instinctively, defensive. “I’m your emergency contact.”
He blinks.
“My what?”
“They called me. You listed my number. ICE.”
“That’s not—” He winces slightly. “That’s not possible.”
“Well, it is,” you say crisply. “And when I told them they had the wrong number, they said I was the only one listed. So.”
“So you came?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know me.”
“I'm painfully aware.”
There’s something almost incredulous in his expression now.
“Then why are you folding my clothes?”
You glance down. You’re still holding his hoodie, smoothing the sleeve without realizing.
Heat creeps up your neck.
“They were wrinkled,” you say, like that explains everything. “And your car was blocking traffic, so I had it towed. It’s at Lakeshore Auto. I didn’t make any medical decisions, don’t worry. I specifically did not authorize anything. I just— took care of a few things.”
He just stares at you.
“You got my car towed?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know me.”
“No.”
A beat.
“Are you always like this?” he asks slowly.
“Like what?”
“Stressed about strangers.”
“I’m not stressed.”
“You look stressed.”
You absolutely are.
Your shoulders are tight. Your jaw is set. You haven’t stopped scanning him for signs of deterioration since he opened his eyes.
“You were unconscious,” you say sharply. “You were alone. Someone had to make you were okay.”
His gaze softens slightly at that.
“I'm okay.”
“How would you know?” you shoot back.
There’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes now. Faint. Disbelieving. He studies you like you’re the strange one here.
You suddenly realize you haven’t offered him anything.
“Do you need water?” you ask abruptly. “Or juice? They said you shouldn’t eat heavy food yet but I can ask about crackers.”
Before he can answer, you’re already standing.
“Wait—” he starts.
“I’ll be right back.”
You escape into the hallway because his eyes are doing something to your composure.
At the vending area, you lean against the wall and breathe.
You don’t know this guy.
He is not your responsibility.
And yet.
You grab water anyway.
When you come back, he’s sitting up a little higher.
He looks more awake now.
More real.
You hand him the cup carefully.
“Small sips,” you say automatically.
He obeys, watching you over the rim.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
You hesitate.
Because suddenly, giving him your name feels like crossing a line.
“I should go,” you say instead. “Your real emergency contact is probably on their way.”
His expression shifts — something between confusion and disappointment.
“You’re just leaving?”
“You’re conscious,” you say. “Mission accomplished.”
“That’s not—”
You step back toward the door.
“Your car’s handled,” you add. “Your stuff’s here. I didn’t steal anything.”
“I didn’t think you—”
“You’d be surprised what concussions do to people.”
A tiny, reluctant smile tugs at his mouth.
You falter for half a second.
Then you’re gone.
Connor stares at the closed door long after you leave.
The room feels noticeably emptier.
He looks at the perfectly folded hoodie on the chair.
At the neat stack of his things.
At the towing receipt placed carefully on the table with a time stamp and location.
“Hey,” he says when the nurse steps in later. “The girl who was in here earlier. The one who… organized everything.”
The nurse smiles knowingly.
“She left.”
“Yeah. I know.” He hesitates. “Do you still have the number she was called from?”
A pause.
“We do.”
He updates his emergency contact properly before discharge.
Carefully.
Correctly.
Then he asks for yours.
Your phone rings the next evening.
You stare at it.
You knew this might happen.
You answer.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” he says. His voice is steadier now. Warmer. “It’s Connor. From the hospital.”
“I assumed.”
A soft laugh. Then a beat.
“I fixed my emergency contact,” he says. “So you won’t get any more dramatic calls about me.”
“Good.”
Another pause.
“I was kind of hoping,” he continues, more tentative now, “that I could buy you coffee.”
You don’t answer immediately.
“Why?” you ask.
“Because you showed up for someone you don’t know,” he says simply. “And you took care of things. And I didn’t even get your name.”
Your chest tightens in a way you don’t like.
“It’s weird,” you warn.
“I know.”
“You thought I hit you with my car.”
“Well, I was concussed.”
You almost smile.
There’s a long second where you could say no. Where you could tuck this into the neat box of strange things that happened once and never again.
Instead—
“…Okay,” you say. “Coffee.”
The relief in his exhale is immediate.
“Okay,” he echoes.
And for the first time since the phone call, your life feels slightly, dangerously unscheduled.
ⓘ𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒!・flufff!! ・mack's family being too sweet with reader・macklin being such a sweetheart・mentions of future and possible wedding・1.3k words!!!
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 in which… macklin's parents are making their vow renewal and robyn give her "bridal" bouquet to reader.
The atmosphere felt much more romantic than usual. More lively and crisp.
Macklin’s parents were renewing their vows with a beautiful outdoor celebration.
The soft pink tones harmonized with the green of nature.
The setting was simply beautiful, and everything was in perfect harmony. It almost felt like a dream.
Macklin had been gone for a few minutes—probably finishing up his suit and helping his father.
I really didn’t expect Robyn and Rick to invite me to their vow renewal.
Even though I was dating Macklin.
We’d only been together for 8 months, and even though that was a good amount of time, we hadn’t been together for a year yet, and I really didn’t expect to be so close to Macklin’s family.
Not the way I am.
One of Macklin’s younger cousins approaches with a big smile.
— Y/N! — she calls out to me spontaneously. — Can you play with me for a bit? My brothers are already tired, and I don’t have anyone. — Her tone sounds more upset than usual, as if not having anyone to play with her really were the biggest problem of her life at that moment.
The way Macklin’s cousin looked at me, almost as if it were a sin to refuse a request as sweet as that.
Almost as if her heart would break completely if I turned her down. I couldn’t help it.
— Okay, we can play for a little while! — I tell her, and she flashes that ear-to-ear smile that automatically warms my heart.
Macklin’s cousin tugs on my finger, leading me away from the tables so we can play.
And so I spent 20 minutes laughing with a 6-year-old, and I couldn’t have asked for anything better.
As time went on, more children joined us, and then we played “Duck, Duck, Goose.”
I was sitting on a rug that had been laid out on the grass.
The children ran around everyone, tapping each person on the head in a circle.
And I was smiling genuinely.
Until I felt two arms wrap around my waist, someone sitting behind me and placing their legs on either side of my body.
I recognized the scent and turned around.
And there he was. So handsome.
Macklin Celebrini. Wearing a suit and looking even more handsome than usual.
He looked at me as if I were the only one there, as if I were the only one he would ever have eyes for.
— Hey. — Macklin whispers softly, with a charming smile.
— Hi. — I whisper back, completely smitten.
Our noses touch, and soon we feel a hard slap on our heads, and we laugh heartily at one of Macklin’s cousins who hit Macklin harder than he hit me. It was cute.
Macklin puts his hand on my head, stroking it as he kisses my forehead.
I turn completely toward Macklin, who hugs me tightly. At that moment, it felt like only we existed—even with all those kids playing, running, and especially hitting our heads while playing “Duck, Duck, Goose.”
And I loved those moments when, even with us surrounded by so many people, it always felt like it was just the two of us.
— Mack! Dad needs you. — Aidan, Macklin’s older brother, appears in our line of sight a little further away, interrupting the few minutes we had together.
Not that it was anyone’s fault; after all, it was completely understandable.
It was Macklin’s parents’ wedding; obviously, he would be busy with that.
Before even thinking about getting up, Macklin ends up planting a few kisses all over my face, making me giggle at the sensation.
And then he stands up, straightening the suit that made him look even more attractive and casually sweeping his hair back.
I stay seated on the grass, perhaps hoping that some kind soul might help me up without me having to make the slightest effort.
And my prayers are almost answered when Macklin’s aunt and Robyn’s sister appears in front of me, offering both her hands to help me up, which I accept gratefully.
— Could you help me with something really quick? — Macklin’s aunt asks.
And I just nod my head in agreement before answering.
— Sure, what do you need? — I ask casually.
— Do you think you can zip up Robyn’s wedding dress? We’ve been trying, but the zipper is stuck. — she asks, almost desperate.
— I don’t think it hurts to try. — I reply, already being dragged into the room where Macklin’s mother was.
I enter the room, greeted by Robyn’s friends and Charlie, Macklin’s sister, who was trying—and failing—to pull the zipper of the dress, which was indeed stuck fast.
— So, how’s it going? — I ask Robyn as Charlie makes room with a happy yet gentle smile upon seeing me there.
— Everything’s almost perfect; it would be perfect if only this zipper would close. — Robyn complains.
I position myself behind the older girl, pulling the zipper all the way down with some difficulty.
— Hold the top of the dress. — I instruct Macklin’s mom, who listens to me easily, already following my instructions. I count to three and pull the zipper all the way up with great difficulty. But it closes.
And everyone in the room seems relieved by this.
I smile at the blonde woman who is now looking at herself in the mirror, amazed and nostalgic.
And soon after, she returns my smile as a thank you.
Minutes later, the couple was finally ready for their vow renewal, and the ceremony was beginning.
Everything was incredibly moving, and after the ceremony, I could tell my eyes were filled with tears.
Macklin stayed by the altar the whole time, watching the entire ceremony with affection and admiration, though he kept glancing at me.
And as the ceremony ended, Robyn wanted nothing more than to toss her bridal bouquet to wish good luck to the next woman to catch it, as is traditional. Most of the women at the party, including those who were already married, positioned themselves to catch the bouquet.
I stayed up front, along with several other women—friends of Robyn and Rick, or relatives.
Macklin recalled the whole scene, a silly smile on his face, and just whispered an “I love you” so quiet, yet so full of affection that I could have died of love right then and there. And I simply return the gesture with the same feeling.
However, I furrow my brow, confused, when Robyn pretends to throw the bouquet and turns around with such a silly smile, walking toward me.
For a few moments, I didn’t understand what was happening. But it felt almost like a click when Robyn took a step even closer to me.
I’m speechless for a few moments.
My eyes well up as the older woman stands in front of me.
— I hope so much that the next wedding I attend is yours. — the blonde whispers, almost making me cry right there, as she hands me the bouquet and I accept it with immense gratitude.
The party guests applauded, especially Rick, while Robyn and I hugged and Macklin just filmed everything, so in love. It all felt like a dream, such a beautiful, vivid dream.
A little while later, Macklin was already a bit tipsy after several shots of whiskey with his dad. And he was even clingier than usual.
Not that I’m complaining—after all, it’s really cute.
— You know that one day I’m going to marry you, don’t you? — Macklin asks, even though he already knows the answer. — One day it’ll be us celebrating our wedding with a party so big that everyone there will be jealous. — Macklin declares, tipsy.
He nestles into the curve of my neck.
— And I can’t wait for that day. — he finishes, whispering, scattering kisses all over my neck.
author’s note: i want to thank everyone for all the support on the last work, you'll have no idea how special that was to me!! and english isn't my first language but i hope y'all like it!!! <33
hiii how are you !! I have an idea/request for u and it’s will smith gets ex!reader pregnant ! If u don’t wanna do this or not taking requests pls act like you never saw this🥹 have an amazing day!!
eventually
will smith x pregnant!ex!reader
wc: 2.6k
warnings: suuuuuper angsty, pregnant reader, mentions of will being a bad bf?
note: this can be read as a continuation of the last ex!will fic or a completely new timeline. choose your own adventure, see? 😏
ex!reader masterlist
“can we talk about something?”
you’re laying on the couch, fluffy blanket pulled up to your chin, the secret lives of mormon wives playing on the tv, when will comes into the living room. there’s a look on his face that you don’t like, a look you recognize from every difficult conversation you’ve had with him since breaking up. the look that means you’re not going to like what comes out of his mouth next.
a few months ago, conversations like the one you know is coming weren’t a huge deal. it’s the same thing every time, how he’s so sorry, how much you mean to him, and that he promises he’ll be better than he was before. he promises.
a few months ago, you could just laugh awkwardly, brush him off, and then leave, or kick him out. this conversation usually came after the two of you spent the night together, when he’s feeling particularly tender and misses you the most. after a while, you came to expect it. you’d wake up in the morning, rest in bed for as long as possible, before he inevitably brought it up.
but he hasn’t brought it up in a while. and unfortuantely for you, this conversation isn’t as easy to avoid as it once was.
because now, there’s a very big, very important thing keeping the two of you together.
you’re pregnant.
“about what?” you ask, keeping your eyes on the screen. you know that extending the whole situation by pretending to play dumb isn’t your smartest move, but you’re kind of hoping that if you just dodge whatever he’s going to say for as long as possible, he’ll just give up and move on.
you’re not that lucky.
will moves to the couch without saying anything. you’re lain across the length of it, so you think he won’t be able to sit with you, but you’re wrong. he picks up your ankles, sitting where they were, placing your socked feet in his lap. immediately, he goes to work rubbing and massaging them, causing your eyes to flutter closed and a happy moan to leave your lips.
he goes at this silently for a few minutes, fingers working magic on your swollen feet and ankles. ever since you got pregnant, he’s been like this. so attentive, and caring, and loving.
the baby was a… surprise. to say the least. in hindsight, it honestly shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was, because you and will weren’t being the most careful. yeah, you two have been broken up for a little over a year, but you still saw each other. you still had sex, pretty frequently. honestly, it was almost every time will was home, the two of you were meeting up at least once. most of the time in your apartment, on occasion at his, when mack wasn’t home. and even though you knew better, you know better, there were a few times where the two of you didn’t have any condoms on hand, and didn’t think it would be a huge deal.
well, it turned out to be a pretty huge deal, because now you’re laying in his apartment and eight months pregnant. you don’t live here, not technically. most of your stuff is here now, and the things the two of you have accumulated for the baby are here and not at your apartment, but you refuse to officially move in. will’s been begging you for weeks now, but you’re trying your best to maintain as much independence as you possibly can.
you’re so caught up in the drama unfolding on your tv, and the amazing feeling of will massaging your feet, that you forget how will approached you, not even five minutes ago. that he started that damned conversation.
and then he reminds you.
“i think we should get back together.”
will’s voice is soft, and he says it quiet. almost like he wants you to miss it, to just hum and nod and agree even though you didn’t really hear him. but you did hear him, and your heart drops the second you register his words.
all sense of relaxation from the foot massage dissipates in milliseconds. your whole body tenses, and your heart starts racing.
the very last thing you want right now is to be talking about this.
“will…” your tone is warning. “please. can we just… not?”
you’d been trying to avoid looking at him, but then his gaze swings to you, and like a magnet, your eyes find his. his cheeks are pink and his eyes are glassy, his expression so full of love and yearning your heart nearly stops.
“baby,” he starts, and your breath hitches in your chest. “i know you don’t want to talk about this, but we need to.”
you can’t hold back your scoff. “no, we don’t. in what world do we need to talk about this?” you sit up and look him dead in the eye, trying your best to convey your annoyance at this whole ordeal without having to outright say it. “will, this whole… situation we’re in is already complicated enough. i’m already stressed enough. i just can’t do this right now.”
“what can i do?” he blurts out. you just look at him for a minute, confused on what he’s asking. he sighs, and continues. “what can i do to prove myself to you? that i’m not gonna be like i was. that i’m gonna be a good boyfriend, a good dad. what can i do?”
you just stare at him, dumbfounded, for a few seconds.
this is a question you haven’t prepared for, haven’t really thought about.
“will, i…” you start. you feel a little flutter in your stomach, like butterflies. earlier on in your pregnancy, your baby din’t move very much. you were constantly worried that there was something wrong, calling your doctor at least once a day to ask ten questions at once. a few weeks ago, you and will found out the sex of your baby. a little girl. he’d been ecstatic, kissing your belly and kissing you, holding you close and thanking you for everything that you do, everything you’ve ever done for him. ever since you found out that you’re having a girl, it’s felt like she’s started moving ten times as much. usually it’s a little kick, or a wiggle. it always makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, but right now, it’s making you sick to your stomach. a reminder of both why you can’t take will back, and also exactly why you should. “i don’t know what to say.”
he gets up from the couch, gently placing your feet back on the cushion, making sure they’re covered by the blanket to keep them warm. you expect him to walk away, to go into his room and wallow in his emotions for a bit, but he doesn’t. will gets on his knees, and shuffles nearer to your head, placing a hand on your belly, your baby girl instantly landing a kick to the exact spot his hand is.
a little smile makes its way onto his face at the feeling, as it always does, but the happiness at her greeting her dad is tinged with the sadness that this whole conversation is causing. your stomach sinks.
“i love you,” he says, your eyes widening in shock. “i know that’s not what you want to hear. i’m sorry. but i can’t not say it anymore, because i need you to know it. i love you so much, and i love our baby. i can’t wait to be a dad, and i’m going to be the best one that i possibly can. i’m always going to be there for her, going to help raise her as much as i can. i’m going to teach her how to skate, teach her how to play hockey. if she wants to play hockey professionally, like i do, i’m going to encourage her and help her to do that, to get there, as much as i possibly can. she’s never going to want for anything. she’s going to feel so loved, never going to doubt that she has someone in her corner. but it’s going to be better, because we’re both going to be there for her, always.”
tears have sprung to your eyes. will’s thumb is caressing your belly, rubbing up and down soothingly, and your daughter has settled, both at the sound of her father’s voice, and at his touch. pregnancy hasn’t been easy, but will has been there for you throughout the whole experience. he’s supported you through every single thing you’ve gone through, told you how beautiful you are when your belly started growing, researched anything and everything you were worried about, and made sure nobody said anything negative to you about anything.
being pregnant with your ex-boyfriend’s baby is a strange experience. you did your best to hide the fact that you were still seeing him, from your friends but most importantly, from your family. your parents and siblings saw you through the worst of the things you dealt with when you and will were together. they held you through his cruel words, and ignored pleads for him to love you.
when the pregnancy test came back positive, you were shocked, scared, excited, and everything in between. you knew pretty much instantly that you wanted to keep the baby, no matter what will said. obviously, when you told him, he was ecstatic. you were honestly more scared to tell your family. they were the ones who witnessed all the damage will caused you firsthand, and you telling them that you’re having his baby was definitely an awkward and tense conversation to have. you assured them that there’s nothing going on between the two of you (lie), and that you only saw him once, which resulted in the pregnancy (another lie).
you and will were together for a year and a half before you broke up. you loved him, you really, really did. throughout that year and a half period, you tried desperately to make it work, to keep it going. before you started dating, you’d been talking on and off for years. you’ve known each other since you were both freshmen at boston college, and you’ve loved him the entire time you’ve known him.
admittedly, you love him now. even after all that he did during your relationship, even though he didn’t realize how much he loves you until after you were gone, you love him. especially through this whole pregnancy, with how unexpected it was, and how unwavering his support for you has been. you’ve really been able to lean on him, to depend and count on him, and you’re so unbelievably grateful for that.
you want to take him back, you do. your life would be ten times easier if you and will were dating, and you know that. but as much as you want to, as hard as you try, you just… can’t.
you take a shaky breath, and start to stand up, pushing will off of you. he stays kneeling on the carpet, eyes watching as you begin to pace the living room. you’re trying desperately not to cry, mostly because you feel like you’ve done nothing but cry this entire pregnancy, and you’re not sure if you have any tears left.
“i want to, will,” your voice is thick. “i want to so bad. trust me, you’re doing amazing. i want our baby to have parents who are together, who love each other and trust each other.”
“then why? why are you holding yourself back?” he gets up and crosses the room so he’s standing right in front of you, gently grasping your hips and pulling you close, so close that your bump grazes his lower stomach. your daughter, pefectly cradled between her parents’ bodies, safe and loved and directly in the middle of every problem they’re having. “just let me love you, baby. love me back.”
“i want to,” you repeat quietly, tears beginning to slide down your cheeks. you let out a sigh and rest your forehead on his shoulder, your arms sliding up and wrapping themselves around his neck. “i just don’t trust you anymore.”
you allow yourself a minute to be held by him, to cry into his shoulder and lean on him and feel how steady and loving he is. you feel him shudder at your words, but he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t ask you why not, or tell you that you can now. he just listens, allows you to seek comfort in his hold, and is just there for you.
you hate him right now.
“you were like this before,” you say, sniffling and ripping yourself away from him at the same time. “before we got together. you were sweet, and caring, and there for me. you said pretty things to me and made me feel loved. but then we got together, and that all stopped. no more nice words, or kisses, or love. you got me, and then you started treating me like shit. i won’t go through that again.”
“y/n…” will takes a step towards you. you take a step away.
“and it’s scarier now. we have a baby on the way,” your cradle your bump protectively, your eyes squeezing shut at the thought that your baby girl could ever possibly go through anything like that you did when you were with will. “she’s not even here yet, and she’s my whole world. you say you won’t treat me like that anymore, won’t treat her like that, but i don’t even want there to be that possibility. i can’t do that to her. i know, logically, that you won’t be like that. at least not with her. but i’m just… scared.”
will stands there, looking at you with an expression that can only be described as heartbroken. he doesn’t say anything, because he knows he can’t. you’re right. he was awful to you when you were together, and it’s the biggest regret of his life, the thing he’s most ashamed of. he hates thinking about it, hates remembering who he was.
he was in a dark place at the time, because of things that weren’t your fault. the team was doing bad, and he felt like he was failing in life. he took it out on you, and that wasn’t fair.
will has never blamed you for breaking up with him. even the day that you did it, when he was feeling the most tender and the most raw, he understood. which makes him feel worse, because he knew that he was being a bad boyfriend, a bad person. and yet, he thought you would stay anyway.
he collapses onto the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head in his hands. on the other side of the room, you stand, the love of his life and the mother of his daughter, staring at him with fear and love warring on your face and in your heart.
“i have to protect myself, will,” you say softly. “i have to protect my heart.”
“i know,” he murmurs. he looks up at you finally, and the sadness in his eyes nearly makes your knees buckle “just know that i love you. and i’m here when you’re ready.”
you nod, heart aching in your chest. “i know. i love you too.” will’s eyes widen, but you turn away so you don’t see the exact expression on your face. you just can’t handle it. you start walking towards will’s room, knowing that he won’t follow you, even though it’s his apartment. you stop right before you enter to say, “i’ll get there. not right now, but i’ll get there. eventually.”
a/n: woof this one is... rough 😭 i really struggled with writing this one for some reason, and there were MAAAAAAAAANY iterations of it, but i'm happy with how it came out! this is... probably the angstiest thing i've ever written, but i feel like that's at the core of every ex!will fic! so it's okay! thank you all so much for the support and love on this series, it's so encouraging and never fails to put a smile on my face. you guys are all the best, and i'm so thankful that i have this blog, and this creative outlet. i hope you guys enjoy this one, and have a wonderful day or night <3
Summary: Luke loves to give Jack hell for dating his best friend, but also he just treats y/n as he always treated her before Jack fell hard.
Themes/warnings: Jealousy, Luke terrorising Jack
Word count: 2.6k
Some might mistake Luke's choice to rile his brother up as a jealousy, like he wanted to date y/n or he is disapproving of his brother's relationship with her. That's just not the case both Jack and y/n came to Luke separately when they started dating and he assured them he really didn't care so long as nothing changed with his friendship.
Jack initially agreed to that.
But he's since started to regret his decision to agree to that.
"Jacky...Luke and I have always had movies nights and you can join in." Y/n states after Jack tries to find a way to have y/n to himself for the night.
"Yeah, Jack. We had our movie nights before you ever came along. She was mine first." Luke smirks knowing he's only angering his older brother by using the words that suggest it's him and y/n then y/n and Jack when it comes to y/n's priority.
It's not true, she does an astounding job at balancing the two brother's but she has leaned towards Jack during their relationship.
"Y/n." Jack whines moving towards her and pulling her into his hold while y/n laugh a little while Luke rolls his eyes at his brother.
"You make it too easy for him." Y/n smiles making before feeling Jack's face nuzzle into y/n's neck placing a few kisses on y/n. "Luke, living room."
Luke sighs grabbing the tray of food that y/n and himself had made up for the night. It was just a load of junk food but the two have a monthly movie night and Luke will not let her bail on him for those plans. Plus she just wouldn't, and Luke doesn't care if Jack is included. If anything it gives him further opportunity to trigger Jack for his own amusement.
"The more you make it obvious that you're annoyed the more he enjoys doing things that get to you." Y/n smiles making Luke grumble.
"You're literally my girlfriend." Jack mumbles earning a smile.
"I am and he's your brother and my best friend. We're like a couple with a permanent third wheel." Y/n states then turning to cup Jack's face and kiss him. "You both mean the world to me in very different ways. I love you. Luke just likes to get in your head because he finds himself funny."
"You laugh too."
"That's because he is funny. Come on, let's go."
-
"Y/n." Luke whispers actually waking Jack up as he tries to pull y/n from her very deep sleep.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Jack frowns pulling the blanket up y/n since she is completely naked under the sheets.
"I'm bored and y/n said she'd help me choose some outfits for the roadie." Luke states as y/n finally stirs and Jack frowns.
"Well you'll have to wait, she's asleep-and naked."
"Nothing I haven't seen before."
"You are so an-"
"Yes it absolutely is." Y/n grumbles more annoyed that she's waking up to the brother bickering, not for the first time either. "Luke, you have never seen me naked."
"He didn't know that." Luke smirks taking not end of joy over Jack's angered expression while y/n shakes her head and smiles at the younger brother. "See you're not annoyed. Just remember Jack, I'll always be her favourite Hughes."
"Get out." Jack huffs while y/n coos at her boyfriend.
"You are awful." Y/n states while feeling Jack's arms wrapping around her protectively.
"She's not dressed for your company, Luke." Jack grumbles while y/n smiles not actually hating Jack's jealousy at all even though they all know that Luke holds no threat to the relationship at all. She thinks Jack's jealousy is actually cute, because really Jack knows even if Luke does wind him up, Luke wouldn't cross the line and y/n wouldn't let him even if he tried.
"Can you give me like an hour?" Y/n asks softly looking at Luke.
"30 minutes."
"No, you don't get to negotiate." Jack cuts in before y/n can speak where she was actually going to agree to the new set time.
"Y/n, are you going to let him talk to me like that? Your best friend and favourite member of the Hughes family?" Luke questions before y/n finally groans.
"It's too early for this." Y/n whines finally losing her patience a bit. "Luke."
"Only if you admit I'm your favourite Hughes."
"She hasn't even denied it in the first place. Can you just leave?" Jack groans making y/n shoot Luke a look that make then smiling and mouthing he's her favourite.
"Alright, I'm gone. Only because I don't trust your hands under that blanket being innocent. Tainted my poor best friend in the worst way."
"Never had any complaint from her while she's screaming my name." Jack smirks earning a groan of disgust that finally force Luke to leave the room as y/n feels Jack's hand start to stray from a protective position to between her legs. "About fucking time. I'm gonna make him regret bothering us."
"He just misses getting my attention. We used to have sleepovers and actually you were the third wheel." Y/n smiles softly feeling a bit guilty as she realises that Luke is essentially just making a bid for her attention because he gets less of it.
It's a bit like having a first child and trying to balance out love and attention with a second child.
"Mhmm." Jack hums now too focused on his self-appointed mission to make her scream his name as loudly and many times as possible to really make a point.
-
Taking y/n to the family and friends skate day, she was first out on the ice and Luke being the annoyance that he is, he undid the laces on Jack's skates before rushing out from the dressing room and getting to y/n first.
"What did you do?" Y/n asks narrowing her gaze on Luke who smirks in triumph.
"He makes it too easy. It must be a middle child thing." Luke hums thoughtfully then grabbing y/n's shoulders and steering her away from the exit of the rink when she turns to go check on her boyfriend who is no doubt seething with rage that his little brother outsmarting him. "He'll be fine."
"I don't remember you ever terrorising Jack this much in your life before." Y/n comments as Luke continues to use her shoulders to steer her around the ice while she just decides to let him. "You know if you want to get time with me you only have to ask."
"He's always around."
"You know he feels the same about you." Y/n smiles but Luke just huffs.
"You have been my best friend for years, you've been his girlfriend for like 2 months." Luke states making her slump a little since she definitely feels bad hearing him say it so softly.
"Ok, well then we'll do more things. But you know...it's going to be different. Jack and I are in a relationship."
"I know." Luke sighs before Jack suddenly whizzes past them before looping back and pulling y/n away from Luke.
"Oh my gosh." Y/n gasps wobbling in her balance as he pulls her with him. "Jack."
"He messed up my laces." Jack grumbles while y/n smiles and forces them to come to an abrupt stop since if there's one thing that came as a perk of being Luke's friend all these years it's that she got pretty good skating lessons from him. But it does almost send Jack tumbling. "Hey-"
"Can we all skate together?" Y/n asks softly making Jack's gaze look at his younger brother. "Look at him. He's my best friend and he'll be alone if we don't skate with him."
Jack sighs having his heart strings pulled before y/n links their hand and skate back to Luke. Though his softness towards his brother doesn't last long since Luke just can't help himself.
"Yeah, she always comes back to me. Even if she has to drag you with her."
"I was just one your side, why you gotta make me look bad?" Y/n pouts as Jack's hands take an iron grip on her waist.
"You can skate along side us, Snoopy." Jack declares with narrowed eyes while y/n is gently pushed forward but y/n does put her hand out for Luke to take and he does. "Probably looks like you're dating us both."
"She wishes." Luke snorts making her drop his hand to swat at him before she relinks it while Luke just smiles feeling y/n look at him for a moment.
Jack continues to skate practically plastered to the back of y/n making it obvious he's her boyfriend purely from his proximity.
"I'm tired." Y/n states eventually as she leans back on Jack a little, slumping her weight onto him.
"We can get off." Jack smiles looking at Luke. "You coming?"
"I'm not staying alone." Luke huffs making y/n laugh a little as Jack skates them towards the exit from the rink.
-
Y/n and Luke somehow got sick at the same time and due to y/n not wanting to also get Jack sick, she's been refusing to come near him.
"Baby, please." Jack groans when he comes back to find Luke and y/n lying on the sofa together, topping and tailing with a blanket over the two looking like they're both ready for death.
"She's lost her voice. But she wanted me to tell you that she'll be in my bed tonight."
Y/n kicks Luke pretty hard for making it sound the way it does since Jack is already getting fomo from the fact he went to practice while Luke has been given a recovery day with how sick he is.
"That's not happening." Jack declares before pulling the blanket off of y/n and scooping her up.
"No. Luke!" Y/n croaks proving that she has truly lost her voice, even her attempt to yell for Luke and reach for him is a pointless endeavour.
"You're on your own, you brought this plague in here." Luke states sounding very congested while he stretches out on the sofa using up the space. "But remember that Jack, she called for me to help her from you."
"How do you have the energy to run your mouth right now?" Jack questions in a mutter before he walks into their room and sighs settling down with y/n in their bed. "Being around him when he's sick too isn't going to do much to make you feel better. You'll just keep sharing sick germs."
"But you might get sick."
"I ate your pussy 2 days ago, if I was going to get to catch it I think the chances were higher then."
"Ok, point made." Y/n grunts as Jack lies in bed with her. "I really feel like death."
"I'm gonna get you some aspirin." Jack mumbles making her hum as he gets up and moves into the bathroom before he sighs softly and get some water, pausing as he looks at Luke and sighing as he moves to get him. "Water, aspirin. I'll be back in a bit to check on you."
"Thanks." Luke murmurs before he smiles. "Take care of her."
"I was going to anyway."
"You're only saying that because I just asked you to."
There's a sudden thudding from y/n in the bedroom, her way of telling them to shut the hell up since she can't shout at them. Jack laughs a little as he returns to her.
"I was trying to be a good brother, for the record." Jack states earning a hum before he holds out the aspirin and the glass of water for her.
"Thank you." Y/n smiles while Jack hums leaning over and kissing her on the forehead.
"I'm gonna make some food. Stay in here."
"Ok, I'm gonna nap a bit more. Let me know when it's ready." Y/n whispers earning a nod before Jack walks back out and finds Luke has already passed out cold.
-
"No." Jack frowns crossing his arms. "We are the couple, you can't match with Luke."
"You didn't even want to wear a costume." Luke argues while y/n sighs looking at Jack.
"Wearing your hockey stuff is not a costume and yours stuff will swallow her anyway." Jack huffs while y/n moves towards him holding his waist.
"Ok, fine. But I promised Luke that we'd have a costume together." Y/n states while Jack rolls his eyes. "How about...Jesse, Buzz Lightyear and Luke can be Woody?"
"What? Why do I have to be Woody?"
"Because Buzz Lightyear dates Jesse and I'm really trying here." Y/n states earning a grumble from the younger brother but he sighs and agrees.
"Fine, but just remember Jack. She wants to have a costume with me, matching me first." Luke smirks not being able to go without taunting his brother.
Y/n smiles shaking her head while Jack grumbles some sort of insult under his breath before y/n turns to look at him.
"You'll make a sexy Buzz." Y/n states then pecking his lips. "Don't let him get under your skin, as much as it would be very in character for Buzz and Woody to be at odds with each other. Anyway, leave it to me. I'll sort out costumes."
"Fun." Jack hums then hugging her to himself. "You are never fucking wearing his jersey ever. Costume or not."
"She already has, so many times." Luke states with a fake moan just to get further under Jack's skin. "One time it was all she was wearing."
"Luke, you promised." Y/n hisses clearly not wanting that particular story to be told but it's too late. Jack has gently pinched her side in insistence her know the context. "You're such a dick."
Luke only sticks his tongue out and nods in gesture to Jack for her to tell him before Jack actually gets upset at her for withholding it.
"I lost a bet to Luke and I had to attend a party with only his jersey on. It was stupid, we were drunk and I made him swear never to tell anyone." Y/n states then shooting Luke a sharp look.
"You're putting on my jersey for the rest of the day. And nothing else-in fact get in our bedroom. Luke you might want to find somewhere else to spend the day."
"The day?!" Y/n and Luke exclaim in unison.
"Yes. Problem?" Jack questions looking between them but y/n bites her lip and shakes her head then jumping when he smacks hr ass a little making her move.
"I hate knowing the two of you have sex. It's disgusting." Luke grumbles but makes himself scarce pretty quickly while jack smirks in triumph, moving to his room where he intends to fuck y/n with his jersey and stain it with his cum purely for his own satisfaction and sense of claim over y/n.
Luke might be able to say y/n was his friend first, but Jack is going to make up for that differential in time however he can.
HE’S AN EAST COAST, JEANS ROLLED, NO COMMUNICATION. SHE’S A WELCOME SIGN. ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ
summary: in which… hockey captain will smith and you seem like a crazy match, mainly because you’re his best friend’s ex—but he proves everyone wrong by being the perfect guy for you OR the 3 times everybody was confused about you and will + the one time he finally shut them up about it
warnings: suggestive + cursing
♡ author’s note: hellooo ppl! new will smith au time 🤭 this has been in my drafts for soo long but college has had your girl busy & i finally had time to finish it!! please please send in any ideas or just some thoughts on how you feel about this au but this is one of the installments of it so far!
1. It was the third week after your very public and humiliating breakup with your ex boyfriend, Macklin. Word had traveled like wildfire—Mack, the hockey egomaniac and prodigy of your college, had told you right in the middle of your dining hall meal that he needed to focus on hockey and less on… you.
You had disappeared for a while after that, keeping your head low with the help of your sorority sisters who made sure you were still eating and well… functioning.
So when you came messy haired into the dining hall with Will Smiths’ hockey hoodie on out of all hoodies you could’ve picked, all heads turned. You sat down with your tray, unbothered, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands.
Will slid into the seat beside you, sleep in his eyes, hair still damp from morning skate. He handed you a cup of orange juice without asking. You smiled.
Two tables over, a girl leaned into her friend. “Is that seriously Will Smith? The hockey kid?”
“I thought she’d sworn off hockey guys entirely after Macklin.”
They were whispering as if you weren’t right there. But it didn’t matter, because you were too sleep deprived to care as the girls continued to chatter on.
“I don’t get it. He’s like… hot, captain and all that but he’s on the same team as Macklin, that’s gotta be weird, right? Also, he kind of looks like he’s always just a bit confused about what’s going on.”
Will glanced over. Raised an eyebrow. You almost died laughing into your eggs.
“Uh—I can hear you,” he called.
The girls went red. One of them whispered, “What did she see in him?”
You reached across the table, picked a crumb off his cheek, and popped it into your mouth.
“You said it yourself. He’s hot.” you said simply.
Will flushed to the tips of his ears.
2. The two of you found yourself at a joint party, where it was loud and weirdly sticky. It also reeked of vodka and the smell of cigarettes.
You were tipsy, and although you usually didn’t drink because of the hangover the next day, Will was very charming in convincing you to take a few shots. He obviously was wasted. And, in his defense, it was your fault he was kissing you against the hallway wall like he forgot other people existed.
You giggled into his mouth. “Will, someone’s gonna see—”
“I want them to,” he mumbled, hands on your hips, voice low and slurred and sweet. “They should know who you’re going home with.”
Two girls stepped out at that exact moment and froze. One clutched her bag close to her side. “Is that—?”
“Oh my God, it’s her. With Will. Smitty.”
“I thought she was still recovering from Mack?”
“Nope. She’s out here healing with another hockey boy.”
Will finally noticed them. Looked up. Smiled. “Hey,” he slurred. “That’s my girlfriend.”
You shush him. “Will.”
The issue was—he didn’t exactly ask you to be his official girlfriend just yet. And he couldn’t. Despite most people on campus catching onto you and Will, Macklin was none the wiser. It kind of had a lot to do with how everybody was self aware and Macklin was lack of, and how he really meant it when he told you he just wanted to focus on hockey.
He didn’t even have time to realize that you were seeing his best friend.
“No, no, let me have this moment.” He grinned at the girls. “She likes me. On purpose.”
They both stared. “Good for you Smitty.” The taller one of the two says. “Heard she was a keeper.”
3. Although Will was his close friend, Gabe didn’t exactly see what you saw in him.
He walked to his car after a long day of skating practice, and funny enough, he had parked right next to Will’s car.
He was just going to scare the boy by loudly knocking on his window until his eyes focused on you, who was curled up in Will’s passenger seat, sipping a matcha with both hands while he argued with the CarPlay that wasn’t connecting.
“Perreault!” You say excitedly, rolling down your window. “Come with us for dinner?”
He should’ve said no. He had a lot—and by a lot—it was at least 7 pages of literature homework to get through. But he wanted to see how the two of you worked in action.
“Jesus,” Gabe said later that night, watching you giggle as Will tried to parallel park and failed three times. “At least she’s not with Mack anymore.”
When Will finally drops you off home that night, he gets out of his car and walks you to your dorm, making sure you’re all cozied in before retrieving back to his car.
This makes Gabe smirk, and Will notices right away, eyes already ready to roll.
“Shut up,” Will muttered, cheeks red. “We’re just hanging out.”
But “just hanging out” didn’t explain the way Will remembered your matcha order down to the oat milk ratio. Or the way you wore his hoodie to the dining hall and Econ like it belonged to you now. Or the way Will’s voice softened, every damn time he said your name.
You two weren’t supposed to make sense.
You were Friday night by the sea with a movie playing on a projector. Tea at 4pm with a book in hand. A girl who journaled her feelings and told people thank you with eye contact.
Will was a commitment issues on legs—except to hockey—God, what was it with hockey boys and their commitment issues to everything but their sport?
He missed dinners, skipped hockey meetings, and hated obligation like it was contagious.
You two weren’t supposed to fit. He was your ex boyfriend’s best friend, teammate, the guy who skated with him since the start of college. It just didn’t make sense how you two could even fit.
But you did. And that confused Gabe more than ever.
But Will’s his close friend, and over the past few months of sitting with you in Econ, you were starting to become one of Gabe’s friends as well. When you were with Mack, you barely interacted with any of the hockey guys.
To them, you were just someone who was in the passing. You’d come to their practices, obviously, but you were reduced to someone who was just in Macklin’s world.
So the two of you were happy, which it sure as hell looked like it, Gabe was happy for you.
+ 1 The next party was supposed to be chill.
It wasn’t hosted by Signu, thank God. It was just some house off campus, filled with some of the hockey guys and a really good playlist on for once. You were having a good night—wearing a black mini skirt with a short top, sipping a strawberry seltzer, and laughing at something Gabe said about the freshman who tried to body slam him into the boards.
Will was close by. Always close. Arm around your waist, chin brushing your temple when he leaned in to make some snarky comment. Every time he laughed, it rumbled against your back. You were warm and buzzed and exactly where you wanted to be.
Until she showed up. You didn’t know her name. But the moment Will stiffened beside you, shoulders tight and mouth in a line, you knew she was someone from the past. His past.
“Will,” the girl practically whined as she approached, red cup dangling from her hand. She was tall, tanned, and clearly drunk.
You stepped slightly aside, but Will didn’t let go of your waist. If anything, he held you tighter.
“Ava.” Will says, clearly already over the conversation.
“Oh wow,” the girl, who you now know as Ava, steps right in front of him and glances at you like you were some inconvenient barrier to her night. “You’re still with her? Like actually, with her?”
Will blinked once. “Yeah. I am.”
She scoffed. “Seriously? What happened to you?”
You raised an eyebrow. Will didn’t say anything. But his grip didn’t loosen.
Ava takes a sip from her cup. “You used to be fun. Like… remember that night welcome week of freshman year? In the upstairs bathroom at Dickinson’s thing?” She leaned in, eyes twitching. “I don’t remember you being into the whole soft boyfriend thing.”
You opened your mouth, stunned. But then she said it. Loud enough for you, and everyone nearby, to hear.
“What? Is she friends with all your hockey buddies or something? I know she was Mack’s ex, that’s gotta mean something if she can get both him and you, huh? Easygoing like how you like them? Or does she give really good head?”
The silence was immediate. You froze. So did Gabe, whose jaw was practically on the floor by now. And cruelly enough, the music too for a second, as someone tripped over the aux cord—Dickinson, too gagged by your conversation—didn’t chew the person out right away.
“Say that again.”
Ava blinked. Eyes starting to water in frustration. “What?”
Will stepped forward. “You think it’s funny disrespecting her like that?” he said, voice low, steady. “You think now that you’re in some fucking low tier sorority that you get to talk about her like she’s a joke?”
Ava’s breath hitches.
“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Will went on, “So if you’re bitter, if you’re mad I moved on from your drunk ass and actually found someone who matters—go scream into a pillow or something. But don’t talk to her that way.”
Ava stares at him, stunned.
“I don’t go about things like that,” he said, louder now. “I don’t hook up behind backs and I don’t keep people around to use when I’m bored. You and me? That was a mistake, and I’m sorry that you were under the impression that it was otherwise.”
Ava’s crying by now, her drunken rambles from earlier now gone as she sobered up right in front of you from Will’s words. You almost feel bad because she got humiliated right in front of the whole hockey team and some more, but you then remember what she had just said about you.
“You’re a jackass, Will.” She cries, storming off into the backyard.
Will’s chest is heaving, and you can tell he’s stressed out by the way his hands shake and his eyes are darting back and forth between you and where Ava just stormed off.
“Hey,” you say, pulling him upstairs. Gabe gives you a nod, as if he was thanking you for being there for his friend in such a weird moment like this.
“Breathe.” You place your hand on his chest, your other hand comes to hold his shaking one, and he finally lets out a deep exhale.
“Sorry.” He says.
“No.” You shake your head. “Why would you be sorry?”
“I usually don’t do that.” He says.
“I know.” Your voice is so soft it makes Will want to cry. You’re just so sweet, too sweet, and it makes Will feel horrible that people like Mack and Ava treated you so badly.
“Thank you for defending my honor.” You joke. “Even if she was right about some things.”
“Nah,” he finally smiles, the same smile you grew to love each time you saw it on Will’s face. “Maybe one. The really good head one.”
You elbow him in the side, making blonde boy groan out in pain.
“Sorry, sorry.” He says, throwing his hands out in surrender.
“You’re lucky I like you, Smitty.” You smile, closing the gap between you and him.
Request: Can you do a Fraser Minten request?? One where you injury yourself while he’s away and you don’t tell him until he comes home because you didn’t wanna distract him???
pairing: Fraser Minten x gf! reader
content: broken wrist, reader withholding information, angst, arguments, cursing, but also fluff
wc: 1.5k
a/n: thank you for this request! I love writing angsty stuff, it's lowkey so much fun. I hope you love it!
Happy birthday Minty!!
You were known to be clumsy. That was a fact about yourself that, no matter what you did, you couldn’t part with.
Sometimes you would miss a step and slide down the stairs. Maybe you’d accidentally run into the doorway, slamming your hip against the fame. One time, your heel got stuck in a crack in the sidewalk and down you went.
It got to the point where Fraser would joke that you needed to travel in bubble wrap.
Usually, Fraser was there to catch you, or scoop you up, or place the bandaid on whatever cut you had acquired. He always stopped whatever he was doing to take care of you.
This time, he was in Seattle for a game.
It is a known fact that Seattle is very far from Boston, 3,045 miles to be exact.
So when you fell while out with your friends and snapped your wrist, you made the conscious decision to not tell him.
It was a thought in the back of your mind the entire ride to the ER, in the waiting room, and even while getting X-Rays done. You should call him, let him know that his girlfriend just broke her wrist while at a sports bar watching his game.
But then you began to spiral: he still had three more games on this trip before returning to Boston. He couldn’t be distracted, or worried, or wanting to race home to take care of you. Besides, it’s not like you were dying, or in serious need of taking care of. It was just a broken wrist.
You ignored the look that your friend gave you when you mentioned waiting to tell them, and you ignored the angel on your shoulder that was saying that keeping this from him would make him upset.
You were dead set on doing what you thought was right, because you knew that he would drop everything–possibly to his detriment–to race to your side. You didn’t want to be the reason why. You didn’t want to be a problem.
So for the next week, you fumbled around the kitchen with one hand, doing your best to keep the house clean with one arm in a sling. You slept fitfully, already tired of the cast. Your thumb fumbled with your phone as you texted Fraser that yes, everything was fine, you couldn’t wait to see him, etc. etc. etc.
At the end of the week, he got home earlier than you’d expected. Usually, he’d get home in the early hours of the morning when coming back from a series of away games. That’s what you’d been hoping for, because then you could push off the conversation about your wrist until the morning when he’d be fully awake.
But as you were struggling to open your moisturizer in the bathroom while getting ready for bed, you heard a familiar click echo through the apartment and a creak of hinges.
You froze.
“Baby?” That familiar, soothing voice that you loved called out.
Fuck.
You were staring wide-eyed at yourself in the mirror, mind racing.
“It’s me!” You heard Fraser continue, and then the sound of his feet padding down the hall towards your shared bedroom, and the bathroom that was attached to it.
You took a deep breath. You made this bed, now you’d have to lie in it.
“Hi, Fraser!” You called, trying to keep your voice even. The bathroom door opened and there he was, looking beyond handsome, if not a little tired. His hair was curling around the tops of his ears, leaking out from beneath a backwards cap.
He grinned, visibly relaxing as his eyes met yours.
And then, he did what he always did after returning home. He dragged his eyes over you in that protective way, just to make sure you’d stayed in one piece while he was away.
Then he stilled, his shoulders tensing, his smile dropping.
You swallowed.
“What the hell?” He stepped towards you, fingers coming out to touch your sling.
“Uh-” you mind span, searching for something to say, some sort of explanation that would ease the sting of you keeping this from him.
“What happened?”
“I fell,” you shrugged. “No biggie.”
“And you broke your wrist?”
You frowned. “And I broke my wrist.”
Fraser took a step back, his own frown matching yours. His eyes jumped up, searching your face. He looked angry, his brows drawn together. Your heart sank with the knowledge that he was angry at you.
In the history of your relationship, you and Fraser had only ever had two major fights. There’d only ever been two times where he looked at you like how he was looking at you now. It wasn’t a good feeling.
He was silent, his jaw clenched.
Suddenly you felt very small. Guilty. Regretful.
Fraser was never angry out loud. You only saw it in the way he moved, how his muscles would tense. You only heard it in the quiet intensity of his voice.
So when he finally did speak, his words were clipped, low, gravelly. “You were in the ER.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” you nodded.
“And you didn’t tell me.”
You opened your mouth. Closed it. Searched for the words that made your actions sound more reasonable than they were. There weren’t any.
“I didn’t want you to worry,” you said anyway, your voice soft. “You were in the middle of your trip. I knew you’d–”
“What?” His tone sharpened. “Care?”
You winced. “That’s not– I was just–” you cut yourself off, aware that nothing you could say right now would help.
Fraser exhaled through his nose and looked away, dragging a hand through his hair. For a second he just stood there, staring at the wall. Your eyes tracked him, the fingers on your good hand fidgeting with the hem of your sweatshirt. His sweatshirt that you had snuck out of the laundry to wear while he was away.
When he looked back at you, his expression had shifted. Still tense, still angry, but hurt had wedged its way in as well.
Fuck, you were such an idiot.
“You broke your wrist,” he started, “and I find out by walking into the bathroom to see you in a sling.”
Your throat tightened. “I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
You hesitated, because you’d been planning to push off this conversation for as long as possible. That hesitation said everything.
Fraser shook his head once, like he couldn’t even believe it. “You think I can’t handle being worried about you?”
“It’s not that,” you said quickly, stepping closer. “It’s just that I know you. You would have gotten on a plane and left everything. You’d be stressed and distracted, even though I’m fine and you’d be–” you cut yourself off once more, frustration and fear flooding your brain. You took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to take you away from what you were doing.”
His eyes softened, just slightly. But he didn’t move closer. He stayed just out of reach, even though you desperately wanted to go to him and feel him and know that he was here with you.
“That’s not your job,” he said finally.
You blinked, confused. “What?”
“My job,” he corrected steadily. “Is to decide what I can handle. Not you.”
He stepped closer, hand drifting to brush against your uninjured one. He was warm and soft and you leaned into it, shutting your eyes briefly.
“Your job is to tell me when you’re hurt.”
Your chest felt tight, exposed, like all your feelings were painted across your skin for him to see.
“I didn’t want to be a problem,” you admitted, your voice rising just above a whisper.
That was what did it. The anger faded completely from his expression and he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you to his chest gently, leaving enough space for your sling. You gripped his shirt, breathing him in.
That familiar warmth, comfort, and love surrounded you.
“You’re not a problem,” he said, his words muffled from where he’d buried his face in your hair. “You’re my person.”
You felt the tears burning in your eyes from how gentle he was being, even though you probably deserved his anger.
He pulled back, looking you in the eye. “And I’m supposed to know when my person is in the ER.”
You swallowed, blinking fast to keep the tears away.
“I’m sorry,” you said, searching his eyes.
He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, eyes shutting momentarily. “Yeah, you are.” His lips ticked upwards. “But I’m so glad you’re okay.”
And just like that, the fear inside you was gone. You melted into him completely, a new feeling settling inside you.
You were relieved. Relieved that he was here with you, that he finally knew. That he saw you and understood while also telling you what he needed in return.
“I love you,” you whispered into his chest.
His arms tightened around you, almost imperceptibly. “I love you too.”
