Hi I’m here with a fic request:))) since you made the Bedsy social media AU I’ve been thinking. I a fic where Bedsy and his PWHL gf are both Olympic snubs and to cheer themselves up they decide to go on a nice little tropical vacation.
I love you writing and I hope this idea inspires you 🤍🤍🤍
pairing: connor bedard x pwhl!reader
after both being snubbed from the Olympics, you and connor decide to take much needed tropical vacay
(based of my superstar social media au but can be read as a standalone!)
authors note: tysm for the request! I hope you enjoy <3 (request are open guys!)
contains: tiny sprinkles of angst, olympic snubs, and smitten connor
As the Olympics crept closer and closer, the silence from your countries general manager’s felt louder and louder by the day. No call for you or Connor. What once felt like a distant possibility slowly twisted into a knot of dread. Then the rosters dropped. You started at the list on your screen until the names blurred, yes scanning once, twice, three times just to be sure. Your name wasn’t there. Next to you, Connor set frozen, his own phone in his hand, eyes locked on the screen. You didn’t even have to ask. His sunken shoulders, glass eyes, and tightly set jaw told you everything. His name wasn’t there either.
Later, the follow-up announcement came: standby roasters. Alternates. The backups. You told yourself it was still an honor, still proof you were close, still something to be proud of. But it felt like almost being chosen. Like being good, not good enough. Connor took it worse. Last seasons headlines had already chewed him up; labeling him bust, overrated, wasted potential, and this just felt like proof to everyone who doubted him.
You tried to be strong for the both of you, swallowing your own disappointment to patch over his. But you could tell he was still drowning in it, still carrying the weight like he deserved it. So because you loved him and because you were an amazing girlfriend, you did possibly the most impulsive and wonderfully reckless thing you could think of. You booked two tickets to Paradise Island in the Bahamas.
You waited until a few days before the Olympic break to tell him. The PWHL had gone on pause a couple days before the NHL, which meant you’d been haunting Connors apartment like a nervous ghost. Pacing, stress cleaning, rehearsing the speech in your head over and over again. It wasn’t until you heard his keys turn in the lock that the nerves really hit. What if he’d already made plans? What if he didn’t want to travel? What if he hated the Bahamas? What if this was too much?
The thoughts spiraled, even as another voice in your head pointed out how ridiculous they were. He would’ve told you if he had plans. He’d go anywhere as long as you were there. Still, logic did absolutely nothing to calm your racing mind.
As Connor stepped into the apartment, he barely had time to drop his practice bag by the door before you very unsnermomuissly decided to word vomit your entire surprise on him. “I booked us a trip to the Bahamas for the break,” you blurted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Two weeks on Paradise Island. Just us. We leave in two days so you should probably pack tomorrow. Uh, hopefully you have enough swim trunks, and I think we need to buy sunscreen, oh and do you have your passport? Of course you do, you need it for work, but like what if it expired and you didn’t notice and—”
“Okay,” Connor said, cutting gently through your rambling. You blinked. “Okay?” you echoed, winded from your impromptu speech. “Yeah,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I’m not gonna complain about two weeks alone with you on a tropical island.” The smile that followed was soft, quiet, almost shy — but real. Not the tight, exhausted one he’d been wearing ever since the Team Canada roster dropped. A genuine, smile that reached his eyes and made something warm bloom in your chest. For the first time in weeks, Connor looked lighter.
The last minute hassle of packing, checking and double-checking passports, racing through airport security had felt exhausting at the time, but it all melted away the moment you stepped onto Paradise Island. Your first day was spent unpacking and exploring the resort and parts of the Island. The rest of the week was followed by drifting over coral reefs while snorkeling, clinging to Connor and laughing breathlessly on a banana boat, and the surreal experience of alongside the famous island pigs.
It was now the start of the second week, and the thrill of constant adventures had softened into something quieter, sweeter. You and Connor were both pleasantly worn, though spending the day cooped up in your room felt like a waste — there would be a time for lazy mornings later. And so, you found yourselves here, walking along the wet sand of Cove Beach, your fingers laced with Connor’s. The sea reflecting like diamonds from the lowering sun, and every so often his thumb brushed across your knuckles absentmindedly, grounding, affectionate, as if this simple walk with you was the best part of the entire trip.
For Connor, it was. Not making the cut for Team Canada was a punch to the gut he hadn’t quite recovered from. But then you’d gone and done this. Planned an entire trip to cheer him up, even while carrying your own disappointment. Watching you laugh in the ocean, seeing you light up at every new adventure, feeling your hand find his without thinking… it made something in his chest settle into place. It made him realize, with a terrifying and wonderful certainty, just how deeply he loved you. How easy it suddenly felt to imagine a future with you in it. Maybe you were both a little too young to be thinking about forever, but deep down, Connor already knew you were it for him. The one.
So lost in his soft train of thought, he barely registered you had suddenly stopped walking. You let go of his hand, much to his disappointment, and before he could ask what was wrong, you pulled out your digital camera from your bag. You snapped a few quick photos, adjusting your stance in the sand, completely absorbed. “Isn’t it beautiful, Con?” you asked, still focused on getting the perfect shot. “Yeah,” Connor said softly, not even looking at the sunset once, “it is.”
His eyes were on you and the way the wind softly blew strands of your hair, the warm glow of the last bit of sun beaming on your skin, the tiny crease between your brows when you concentrated. You looked like something out of a dream or painting. Like the kind of moment people wished they could live in forever.
Your lips curved faintly, “I swear if you’re looking at me right now…” you threatened half heartedly.
Connor huffed a quiet laugh and stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, lingering just a second longer than necessary. “No,” he murmured against your skin, “of course not.”
The camera dipped slightly in your hands as you fought back a smile, and Connor held you just a little tighter, as if he never wanted to let this moment slip away.
“Thanks for this,” he said suddenly. You shifted in his arms, brows knitting in confusion. “For what?” Connor guided you gently, hands warm at your waist as he turned you to face him fully. The ocean waves murmured behind you, the sky deepening into magenta and gold, but his focus never left your face. “For planning this trip,” he said, voice soft. “For being so thoughtful and amazing. For being you. And for being here with me.”
Your smile softened, eyes shining as your hands slid up to rest against his chest. You felt the steady beat of his heart under your palms. “Of course,” you murmured. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
