#cb98 x reader

Spot the difference level impossible

Out of His League - Connor Bedard

pairing: Connor Bedard x female reader

summary: When you introduce Connorto your college friends, their niche academic conversation and subtle jabs leave him feeling isolated.

CW: Insecurity, condescension, hurt/comfort, established relationship.

FIRST:

I’ve got two fics ready, a Sidney Crosby one and a Will Smith with platonic Mack in there. Which one should I post? They’ve both got me giggling and kicking my feet so no matter which I hope you enjoy them 🩵

SECOND:

Thank you for all of your requests coming in, especially since I just posted a few about Fraser. I’ve always liked him but I felt like I didn’t know if I could capture him, but I hope I am!!

THIRD:

Guess who has off for four days!!! So I’ll be writing like crazy trying to get through all of your beautiful and wonderful requests

FOURTH:

CONNOR BEDARD I SWEAR TO GOD.

requested!

wc: 3k/4k ?

lightly edited !

an: this super cute! i’m a firm believer in connor in being stubborn to save face until he finally gives into being taken care of!! i also wrote more but this felt dragged on 😭 lmk if anyone wants it

note: how many hawks can be traded whilst i write this? pain truly.

ps: sorry it took so long! thank you for being patient, i hope you enjoy <3

Connor didn’t feel good.

Not that that was an unfamiliar feeling to him, especially as a hockey player, feeling like something in his body was off was a given. It was normal.

His knee felt strained in places he didn’t even know could strain. His jaw still ached deeply, an ache he didn’t think would ever go away. His body was in a constant state of being battered and bruised, he was built for it at this point

What he wasn’t built for was sickness. He didn’t think he’d ever be built for it.

Unashamedly, if he were anywhere close to it, he’d be running home and have his mom take care of him, but he wasn’t. He was far away from home and all he had was, a phone call, and a hope that whatever illness taking root in his body was just a fluke.

It wasn't always that easy, now was it.

It started with the chills.

He was on the ice for practice, in the middle of chasing after the puck, when his body broke out in goosebumps and he shivered. Like full on shook. He was accustomed to cold climates. He was born and raised in Canada, he played professional hockey in Chicago--the Midwest if he knew correctly--they had routinely cold winters.

And, again, he played ice hockey. Cold was in his veins, it fueled him. So chills were out of the ordinary, especially when the coolness of the United Center didn't even feel cold anymore. It just made the air feel damp and clear, not chilling.

He brushed it off. Maybe they turned the temperature down some to make the ice firmer. He looked down at it, it did look a little soupy.

As the day went on, it only progressed further and he knew he was doomed.

A pounding headache took root in his skull, reverberating. It was between his temple and the left side of his head, sending shooting pains every few minutes.

The bright lights of the workout room didn’t help either, he squinted up at them as he did a rep. Looking up at them only amplified the pain, he didn’t know if he was closing his eyes to wince or if the pain was blinding him momentarily.

He didn’t think too much about it.

Then came the fever which solidified it: he was sick. It was only a matter of hours to see how it would develop in him.

Would it be a cough? Vomit? Diarrhea? Complete exhaustion?

He would find out.

In the team’s kitchen, a couple of the guys and him stood around. Wyatt was making, well attempting, to make a smoothie. Everyone barely bat an eye at him, they were accustomed to the weird shit he made.

“The times coming. I think she suspects something is up but other than that it’s a complete surprise.” Alex said, a couple of the boys whooping at him.

He’d been planning his proposal to his girl friend for a long time, with the winter break a few weeks away, the day was getting frighteningly closer. “Our boy turning into a man. Who woulda thought.” Oliver clapped Alex on the shoulder, shaking him a bit.

Everyone’s words fell on Connors deaf ears, instead he was too focused on how hot it was. He looked around through unfocused eyes, trying to see if anyone else was as hot as he was. Everyone looked normal, collected, showered. They were not internally blazing like he was.

Pinching the top of his shirt, he flapped it to fan himself. Cool himself down. The sudden movement turned everyone’s attention on him. “What? Why are you all looking at me? It’s hot in here.” Connor spoke wiping sweat away from his forehead.

Seriously, was no else burning up?

Frank took a couple tentative steps back from him, “Dude you look terrible.”

Connor narrowed his eyes at him, “No I don’t. I look fine. I feel fine too, stop acting like I have the plague.”

Just as he said that, the rest of the guys took careful steps back from him. “No dude, you for real look like you’re about to spew all over us.” Nick pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth.

“Go home. We’ll let everyone now about this. And please God do not yak everywhere. Keep it in until you get home.” Frank cautiously walked over to Connor, lightly shoving him towards the door. “I’ll grab your bag just stay six feet away from me.”

Connor didn’t argue, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. Well if he was right, he was one step closer to either a short, painful existence of vomiting or being stuck in the bathroom for the next day or two. Great.

“Is she home?” Frank asked, Connor’s gear bag in hand as they walked towards the players exit towards the parking area.

Connor shook his head, “She’s at work right now. Don’t want to bother her. I’ll survive a few hours without her.”

Frank just stared at him, disbelieving. Connor was the biggest baby in the world there was no way he was lasting a few hours sick and by himself.

“Sure…” Frank patted his back as they got to Connors car.

Opening the passenger door, Frank threw his bag down, peering at Connor, “Better hope she loves you enough to deal with you sick.”

Connor flipped him off.

The drive back to his apartment was uneventful in the sense that one second he was actively fighting for his life and the next he felt slightly better.

All he wanted was his bed and you.

He could only have one of the two at least for a couple of hours.

Sluggishly, he made his way into the building. The elevator ride up was a blur, so were the steps to his door. One second he blinked and the next he was falling into his bed.

Weakly emptying his pockets of his keys and phone, he laid them down on the side table next to his bed. He wanted to text you, needed to, but exhaustion won over and he quickly fell asleep.

˖᯽ ݁˖·

“Yes, Frank?” You got straight to the point.

Frank only called you if it was relating to two things: Connor or he was having a problem he needed a girls opinion on. Whatever this was, it was either one of the two.

“Your dear boyfriend is sickly.” He said lightly like he wasn’t trying to worry you too much. Unfortunately for him, you were a worrier, especially when it came to Connor.

“He’s sick?” You asked, voice tinged with concern.

“Beginning stages of so something, I’d guess. Looked a mess after practice, had to force him to go home.” That sounded like Connor. He was too stubborn for his own good, he’d work through the flu and a broken hand if anyone let him.

“So he’s home? Why didn’t he call me?” you asked, “He’s home. He didn’t want to tell you because he didn’t want to bother you,” Frank answered, you could envision him shrugging over the phone.

“He’s too considerate at the wrong times,” you sighed, rubbing your temples. “Thank you for telling me, Frank. Let me go nurse my ill boyfriend back to health."

Frank laughed quickly, “You do that,” he said before the two of you exchanged quick goodbyes and hung up.

Shooting a quick email to your boss, you shut your computer off and gathered your things. You’d run into the store quickly, grab any necessary things you didn’t already have at home.

Connor rarely got sick, it’d only happened one other time during the course of your relationship but he’d been on the road then.

This would be something new.

Your heart hurt a little thinking about him alone in bed and sick. Poor thing. You weren’t well versed in treating ill people, barely knew how to deal with yourself when you were sick, you hoped you were doing this right.

˖᯽ ݁˖·

You walked into a dark apartment, silence enveloping you like a thick blanket. Everything looked the same as it did this morning, familiar shadows cast by the afternoon sun filtering through the curtains, couch still in disarray as it always was.

However, there were noticeable signs of Connor’s presence: his gear bag was tossed aside, his shoes were clumsily laid out in the entryway, a stark contrast to his usual neatness.

You moved further inside softly, your footsteps barely making a sound on the wooden floor. You didn’t want to wake him up, it was better for the both of you if he stayed asleep and in bed. Less stress for you and less pain for him. Carefully placing down your grocery bags, you took a moment to catch your breath, the weight of your worry still lingering in your racing heart. Or maybe that was the walk to your door lugging the whole grocery store in your arms.

You slowly walked up to your bedroom door, the door slightly ajar and room scarcely lit by the dim glow of the bathroom light. Pushing the door open, you were greeted by the sight of Connor, a lump under the comforter.

His face was partially covered, only his mouth showing, just barely open as his chest rose and fell in a steady, rhythmic motion. He looked peaceful, which was rare compared to his usual chaotic self when he was awake and well. It was adorable. Guiltily, a small, sad smile tugged at the corners of your lips. A part of you felt a twinge of guilt for taking a little joy in him being sick, but you couldn’t help it. He was like a little kitten you wanted to take care of, sue you. You quietly pushed the door shut behind you, walking toward the side of his bed.

Sweat coated his forehead and even in sleep he seemed sick. His eyebrows drawn, forehead creased, Connor looked restless. You frowned, poor thing.

Moving your hand to his head, with the back of your hand you felt his forehead, a practiced thing you’d learned from your parents. He felt hot to the touch it startled you for a moment. Drawing your hand back, you moved to stroke his hair, smoothing it back.

Moving comfortably, Connor slowly opened his eyes, “Oh,” he mumbled. “You’re home early.”

For a second, you just stared at each other. You were looking for any signs of increased sickness and he was still somewhere far away. He hadn’t quite woken up yet.

“My boyfriend conveniently forgot to tell me he was sick, so I left work early.” You teased, your earlier frustration dampening quickly. Connor was quiet, suspiciously. It was like he was trying to act normal enough to lessen your anxiety. To prove to you he was fine and you didn’t have to take care of him.

Jokes on him, you weren’t leaving until he was better. Plus, you’d already taken tomorrow off, he really wasn’t going to get rid of you now.

“You’re burning up. I can feel your fever halfway up your head.” You pulled your hand away from his head, unlacing your fingers from his hair. He groaned, reaching his hand up to chase your retreating one. \

“Don’t stop.” He rasped out, throat dry and hurting. Water. That’s what he needed, he decided. Water and you. He wouldn't need much else if it was up to him.

Quietly laughing, you obeyed his pleas placing your hand back in his hair. “Have you taken any medicine? Do you need anything?” You asked softly, eyes searching his face with concern, as if trying to absorb any sign of relief or distress.

“Medicine, no. Everything else, eh. I just need you. And maybe water. And to knock out for the rest of the week.”

The laugh that escaped you was quiet and fond despite yourself. “Good plan.” you murmured.

Connor hummed, eyes already drifting shut again. The effort of staying awake for those few minutes had clearly cost him. Whatever stubborn determination he’d been holding onto when you first walked into the room had finally given up. The fever was winning. His grip on your wrist loosened.

You took the opportunity to carefully stand, planning to retire back into the kitchen and sort yourself out.

Immediately, his eyes cracked open again.

You stared at him.

He stared back.

You could already predict his next words.

“You’re kidding.” Huffing out a laugh, you took a small step closer towards the door. Might as well have a teensy bit of fun with him.

“Where are you going?” His brows furrowed weakly. Connor looked like he was bracing himself to sit up. A faint grimace crossed his face like any movement sent pain darting towards his head.

His eyes flicked toward the door, then back to you, want shadowed by weariness. The effort seemed monumental, like he was trying to push back the weight of his own exhaustion just to meet your gaze.

You softened, moving back over to where he laid. Leaning over, you pressed him softly back into bed. Connor wasn’t usually clingy, never made a big show of outward affection which was fine by you, so this was different. He needed you. He wanted you here with him.

“Nowhere. I’m getting you water.”

“Oh.” His suspicion faded immediately, body relaxing “Okay.” Somehow he managed to look sheepish despite being half-conscious.

You shook your head biting back a smile. Maybe something was wrong with you, or maybe he was weirdly cuter today. For once, he’d let down every wall. There was no protest, no fight, only quiet acceptance.

“Be right back.” You whispered, taking slow steps away from him. Gauging his reaction.

Connor nodded against the pillow. You barely made it to the bedroom door before hearing him cough.

Not the dramatic fake cough he’d occasionally use when he wanted attention or to hide a joke under his breath.

It was a real one.

Deep and rough enough that your chest hurt in sympathy.

Padding through the apartment, you rummaged through the grocery bags, piling pills into your hands. Better to have more than none. You made quick work of filling a cup with water, probably beating a Guinness World record.

By the time you returned with a glass of water and a handful of pills, he was curled tighter beneath the blankets.

The apartment was cool.

Connor was not.

He was still profusely sweating.

Your stomach twisted.

Maybe this was normal, you didn’t know. At some point, you assumed his sweat would turn into a case of the shivers, but he hadn’t gotten to that point yet. He’d barely even entered beginning stages of his sickness, perfect.

After this was said and done, you’d have it ingrained in him to immediately slam down an Advil or two when he starts feeling under the weather. That’d keep things at bay for a while.

“Hey.” You set everything down before sitting beside him again. His eyes opened immediately, still squinty, still tired. You wondered if he’d actually been sleeping at all. Or was in that weird in between state of sleep where you’re unconscious but not asleep, never truly resting.

He looked exhausted. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes. His hair was sticking out in every direction, damp with sweat. His face was flushed with fever while somehow still looking even paler underneath it.

It was unfair. Even sick, he somehow managed to be revolting handsome.

“You look creepy.” You blurted out, reaching over to grab the pills and glass of water you’d sat on the table.

You felt… weird. Not in a peculiar way. In a way that this made everything feel elevated. Serious. Another step in the progression of your relationship. You didn’t know how to handle things like this without undermining it somehow, lessening the severity of it in your head.

Connor peered at you, blankly, like it was taking him a minute to process what you just said. His offended expression appeared a second later, “There she is.” He quipped, opening his mouth for you to drop the pills in it.

You gave him a weird look but obliged anyways. He’d done weirder things over the course of your relationship.

“You need me to cut up the pill next time or what?” You mused, handing him the glass of water. For a second there it looked like he expected you to feed him the water, too. He didn't practically chugging the entire glass without an issue.

“Would you?” He asked, genuine curiosity in is voice. Rolling your eyes and biting back a smile, you took the glass from him setting it aside.

“There who is?” You ignored his question, he didn’t need to know you would, willingly, do that for him. He probably already knew you would anyways, he just wanted the satisfaction of hearing it.

“The real version of you. Mean even when I’m on my death bed.” You rolled your eyes pushing his head back lightly. Sometimes it was better for him to shut up.

“Sit up.” Ignoring him, you got to work on your hardest task: getting a heavy grown ass man to sit up when he that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Connor groaned, a dramatic, miserable and sound, slumping down even further, “My body hurts. My head hurts. Please, no.” Even still, you waited for him to inch his way up.

He didn’t move.

“Connor.”

Another groan as he slid his arm over his eyes. He was making this more difficult than needed.

“You are twenty years old.”

“Exactly.”

You raised an eyebrow, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m too old to be forced to do things.” He mumbled out, peeking at you from under his arm. He thought he was hilarious. He was starting to talk too much for someone so sick.

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then you laughed. Actually laughed. Connor looked entirely too pleased with himself considering he also looked seconds away from passing out.

“I think your agent would love to hear that. Hawks social media team, too.”

You couldn’t count the number of times he’d tell you about the media he was forced to do for the Blackhawks social media. Most of it he enjoyed, especially the sillier things like the TikTok trends. Especially with Frank.

The pressers and meetings with his agent? Not his favorite and he let that be known.

Eventually, with significant assistance and several complaints, you managed to get him sitting upright against the headboard.

The second the liquid fever reduction medicine appeared in your hand, his face dropped.

“Only sickos like cherry flavored medicine.” He spoke tiredly, like you had committed a grave sin he didn’t want to think about.

“To think we had this argument on our first date. Look who has the power now.” You pressed a swift, light kiss to his cheek before handing the tiny cup of medicine.

“I wasn’t supposed to bite me in the ass like this. Next I’ll wake up to you force feeding me cherry Diet Coke.” He grimaced.

You hummed, shrugging, “Jury’s still out on that. Thanks for the idea.”

You gave him an evil grin, gesturing to the cup of medicine in his hand. His head tipped back dramatically as he begrudgingly downed the tiny shot of medicine.

You almost smiled. Almost. He caught the hike in your lip as you smugly took the cup from him.

“You are impossible.” You murmured down at him fondly, watching him sink back down into the bed. The medicine was working fast. Or he had exerted himself too much and was crashing quickly. Probably both, at this point.

“You love me.” He shot back, slurring slightly.

That he wasn’t wrong about. You did love him, dearly. You weren’t the care taking type usually, but this? This came as second nature. It felt natural. It felt good. There wasn’t anywhere else you wanted to be. Anything else you wanted to be doing. That’s usually how you felt when you were with him.

You got up quickly, making a beeline for his linen closet, grabbing the closest washcloth, stepping into the en suite and dampening it with cool water before wringing it out.

You were gone for maybe a minute before you returned to his side, placing the washcloth over his forehead. The relief on his face afterward was immediate. The lingering frown on his face dropped. He was at ease.

“There you go.” You whispering, softly patting his clothed forehead.

He leaned further into the pillows, angling his head towards you, resting what he could on your outstretched arm.

“Thank you.” The words were quiet. Sincere. Short but heavy. Typical for Connor, but it was all you needed. If you were being honest, he didn’t even need to thank you. You would have been here regardless.

Your chest squeezed. Because this was Connor.

Not hockey prodigy, the public figure.

This was the Connor who didn’t really know how to properly do laundry. Connor who left his socks everywhere. Connor who claimed he wasn’t invested in your “terrible chick flicks” before you caught him crying after the end of ‘A Walk to Remember.’ Connor who cared and considered everyone else without thinking twice.

Seeing him like this always felt strange. Not because he was particularly vulnerable. Because he rarely allowed himself to be anything other than strong. Collected.

Even now he was trying too. Trying to act normal. Trying to crack jokes to soothe your worry. Trying to convince you he wasn’t as miserable as he obviously was. Trying to ease your uneasiness.

He was an idiot usually, even more so now.

You loved him.

Reaching out a hand, you brushed through his hair.

A part of you believed this wasn’t just a sickness, it was culmination of things. The consequences of working too hard, non-stop. Burn out. His body was exhausted, mentally and physically even if he didn’t want to admit it.

His eyes closed instantly. Like muscle memory. Like he didn’t even have to think about it.

The corner of your mouth lifted. “Comfortable?”

“Mhm.” He grunted out barbarically. Like it hurt to even think about opening his mouth.

“You know you don’t have to thank me.”

“Mhm.”

“I’d do it without thanks. Regardless of anything.”

He opened one eye. “That’s… good to know?” He said confused. “There’s a catch to this I can feel it.”

You laughed.

Bingo.

“But can you let go of my arm? It’s tingly and I can’t feel it.” He groaned, lifting his head off your arm and releasing his warm grip. Your arm felt lighter but colder.

“That’s just cruel. What did I do to deserve this?” He cried out. Well, more like choked out, his voice had only gotten scratchier. It was good to know he still had some dramatics left in him.

“You literally forgot to tell me you had a fever.”

“I didn’t forget.” The pause lasted two seconds.

Three.

Four,.

“…I forgot.” He sheepishly admitted.

“Thought so.” You winked at him. “Frank was my accomplice. He was very worried you were going to barf on him.” Connor looked offended. Then immediately sneezed. The offended look vanished. “Shoulda sneezed on him then. No barf yet it’s waiting for him.”

You lost the battle and laughed. He smiled weakly, tossing you a playful glare. It would have been more intimidating if he wasn’t wrapped in a blanket with a washcloth pressed to his forehead.

The next hour passed slowly.

Peacefully.

Rain tapped softly against the windows as the sun slowly began to set, dimming the room even further. The apartment remained quiet.

After a small argument over you leaving the room again, Connor won and you ended up laid in the bed next to him. You were going to get sick regardless, you might as well have fully committed to it.

Connor drifted in and out of sleep beside you. Every time you thought he was fully asleep, you’d move away, curling into yourself trying to get comfortable. After a minute, his hand would blindly search for yours.

Every single time.

Eventually, you stopped trying to move. Stopped trying to get space. He had a sixth sense regarding you and how far away you were from him, there was no winning.

Your phone sat forgotten beside you. Nothing felt particularly important. Not work. Not errands.

Just this.

Just Connor sleeping with his head pressed against your shoulder, arm wrapped around your torso. Just the steady rise and fall of his breathing. Just the feeling of his fingers loosely tangled with yours.

It was strangely intimate. Not the usual romantic moments people always talked about. Not a fancy dinner. Not a dramatic declaration.

This.

The ordinary things. The quiet things. The moments no one else ever really saw or considered. They were the ones you cherished most.

You glanced over at him, watched as his chest rose and fell softly, nose pressed against your shoulder.

Connor was asleep again. Actually asleep this time. The fever medicine was finally beginning to work.

You could tell.

The flush in his cheeks wasn’t quite as intense. His breathing sounded easier, a little less strained.

Your eyes caught on the blanket shoved down towards the edge of the bed. You’d attempted to reach for it earlier, Connor responded by tightening his hold on you. You were going to try again because, frankly, you were cold.

Carefully, you reached for the blanket pooled at the end of the bed, finger tips gripping it as you pulled it up and higher over him. Well, at least you got the blanket.

His response was immediate, sensing your moment.

Without opening his eyes, he shifted closer.

Your heart practically melted.

“Needy.” You whispered.

Connor made a noise that sounded suspiciously like disagreement. Then promptly squeezed you tighter.

You smiled.

Maybe he wasn’t the type to moan and groan over this, although he probably would if it was something a little less serious like a stomachache.

And he wasn’t the type to demand anything from you really, let alone attention every second when he was sick. But he definitely became clingy, even if he didn’t notice it. It was like pure instinct. Like some part of him knew you were safe.

Knew you would stay regardless of what he said. Knew you wanted to stay most of all. Even if he wanted to selfless and let you focus on everything other than him, he knew you’d come if he asked.

He could save face in front of everyone else just not you. He could finally stop pretending he was okay. That he felt like anything other than shit.

You never quite understood why people liked to be depended on. Enjoyed that responsibility, but now? You knew why they did. It was nice to be wanted. To be someone’s comfort in a time of discomfort. It felt… nice. It made things feel even more real.

You didn’t mind it one bit.

Not even a little.

Because for all the times Connor took care of you; every bad day, every panic spiral, every sleepless night, every moment you needed him without even asking, this felt easy.

Necessary.

A privilege, even.

You pressed a kiss into his hair, trying (and desperately failing) to reign yourself in. To stop yourself from getting comfortable and over-committing. But you couldn’t. You’d gotten past the point of self-sabotage, you wanted to feel safe. To be needed. And you were, with him.

Connor stirred, still half asleep, and deliriously warm. He was an inferno, setting you ablaze. You knew within a few hours you’d be delegating the blanket to just him. He’d be warm enough at that point, a blanket not necessary.

“Love you.”

The words were barely intelligible from him. More breath than sound, but they still made your heart stumble.

A smile tugged at your lips, so quick it was slightly embarrassing, “I love you too.” You were smitten to a degree it was concerning.

Connors shoulders relaxed immediately, like he’d been waiting to hear it. Needed to hear it before he could ease. Then, finally, he fell properly asleep.

For the first time since you’d walked through the front door, you allowed yourself to relax. Assure yourself he was okay. He had everything he needed to get over this without much pain, you’d make sure of it.

The room was quiet, save for the muted sounds of the city outside as day finally turned to night.

Connor hated being sick but, right now, with you here? It made it worth it.

Lucky Charm - Connor Bedard

pairing: Connor Bedard x female reader

summary: You become Connor's essential pregame ritual when he discovers the Hawks win every time you sleep together the night before a game.

CW: Smut, MDNI, Fluff, established relationship.

The pattern starts innocently enough. After a night you spend at Connor's apartment, the Blackhawks win. The next game, you go home to your own place and they lose in overtime. This happens over the course of six consecutive games.

You don't think anything of it until Connor shows up at your door one night, looking uncharacteristically nervous.

"Hey," he says, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I was wondering... if you wanted to come over tonight?"

"Sure," you reply, smiling at his awkwardness. "Big game tomorrow?"

He nods, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. It's... important."

That night, you sleep tangled together in his bed and the Blackhawks win by three goals. The next week, you're busy with work and stay at your own place. They lose in a shootout.

The next time it happens, Connor shows up at your door again, this time with a duffel bag.

"I think you're my lucky charm," he blurts out, cheeks flushing. "Every time you sleep over the night before a game, we win. Every time you don't, we lose."

You can't help but laugh at his serious expression. "Connor, that's ridiculous. It's just a coincidence."

"Is it?" he challenges. "I lost count about how many times it actually happened, but I know that's not a coincidence, that's a pattern."

So you humor him. And the Blackhawks win again. And again. And again.

Before you know it, you've become an official part of Connor's pregame routine. The nights before home games, you sleep at his place. Before away games, he insists on FaceTiming you until you both fall asleep, as if the digital connection might somehow preserve the magic.

The team notices, of course.

"Look who it is," Nazar teases when you show up at the arena before a game. "Bedard's good luck charm."

"Shut up," Connor mutters, but he's blushing.

"Hey, if it works, it works," Dickinson says with a shrug. "Whatever it takes."

The teasing escalates when a reporter asks about his pregame routine during a post-game interview.

"So Connor, you've been on fire lately," the reporter says. "Any special rituals or routines you're doing to prepare for games?"

Connor shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting to the side where you're standing with the other WAGs. "Uh... just the usual stuff," he mumbles. "Stick handling, visualization, getting enough sleep..."

"Anything unusual?" the reporter presses. "Something your fans might find surprising?"

Connor's cheeks flush pink. "Nope. Just... normal hockey stuff."

Later that night, as you're curled up in his bed, you tease him about it. "Normal hockey stuff, huh?"

He groans, burying his face in your hair. "I can't exactly tell them my good luck charm is sleeping with my girlfriend the night before games."

You just laugh at him, before giving him a gentle kiss.

The streak continues for weeks, until finally, the inevitable happens. You come down with a nasty flu, too sick to even get out of bed, let alone go to Connor's place.

"You can't," you croak into the phone. "You'll get sick."

"I don't care," he insists. "I need to see you."

"Connor, no. You have a huge game tomorrow."

He's silent for a moment. "What if I just... sleep on your couch?"

You know it's a terrible idea, but you also know how important this ritual has become to him. "Fine," you sigh. "But if you get sick, I'm never speaking to you again."

True to his word, Connor shows up in sweats and a hoodie, armed with soup and medicine. He sleeps on your couch and somehow, the Blackhawks still win.

The next morning, he's hovering over your bed with a thermometer. "See? It works even if we don't stay at my place."

You roll your eyes, but you're smiling. "You're ridiculous."

wc: estimated 7k…?

an: i had too much fun with the text parts sorry 😭 how many things can happen in one chapter challenge go go go go LOLLL this was really fun to write i love writing connor as a loser. please enjoy i put love into this :D also lightly edited please forgive any mistakes <3

notes: can i make modern references? or is that cringe? i can’t not add them though that’s literally how frankconnor interact 🫩

song: last night i realized i was in love with you by joshua sloane so good for this part!!

part one here!

The second time wasn’t much of a realization, but more of a confirmation. It was cataclysmic at best.

October passed just as quickly as leaves fell from trees the second the weather changed. Gone were the Halloween decorations littered around the city, on doorsteps, and hanging from office windows. The talks of an “epic Halloweekend” you’d heard passing by groups of college students on your way to work were nothing but a whisper of past memories.

Then November came crisp and barren, frightfully chilly. Leaves cluttered the streets, sky’s often gray with the promise of rain. It was dreary but it was comforting. The calm before the storm that came with December. To you, November was rather underrated. It was prime football season, there was hockey on almost every night and what was better than Thanksgiving with a side of sports? Not much.

December came quietly as it always did as an adult. With the haze of October and November, December was half a thought and a pain in the ass by the time it arrived.

Unless you liked gift giving, then it was your month to shine. By now, you were months too late on buying gifts for your loved and so was every other person in the city.

Weekday evenings stores and streets were crowded with hustling moms darting in between stores, the weight of the world (their kids disappointment) on their shoulders. Dad’s strolling leisurely, phones in one hand, lists in pockets and not a clue what to do. Teenagers walking side by side, their excited chatter and carefree laughter carried through the busy streets.

Weekends were a whole other ordeal.

Getting anywhere on time? Forget about it.

Streets were lined with cars and buses, streetlights more of a mere suggestion than a federal law. Sidewalks were packed and somehow tourists always stuck out like sore thumbs. Panicked glances up and down at their phones, stopping mid walk clogging up the sidewalk.

They looked like poor little fawns searching for their mothers. Any other month, it would’ve been sweet to see. You remembered first moving to the city, being wowed by its grandiosity and also immensely intimidated by how big it was and how small you were.

It wasn’t hard to fall into the feeling of being small. Everyone looked like they had it together, like they belonged.

You? That felt further from the truth at the time. You were one big building away from sitting on the corner of the street and bawling your eyes out because maybe this was the wrong move. That Chicago wasn’t for you.

You held it together but inside? You were a mess. It worked itself out, though, as familiarity seeped into your bones. Your routine. A few weeks in and Chicago felt like home, the thought of leaving was unbearable.

Now you looked at tourists fondly and maybe a bit irritably. You understood Chicago was beautiful and it was hard not to feel wowed. It did not mean you had to talk as loudly as possible and stop in the middle of the sidewalk. Vacation made people lose all sense.

Zig-zagging your way through people, you were on a mission. Said mission was your couch, a holiday movie, and unfortunately, an unfinished report or two that were in dire need of getting done.

Things could've been worse though, you could've been stuck in your cubicle clocking in overtime while looking out the window and yearning to go home.

Fortunately enough for you, the one thing your boss cared enough about was making sure none of you stayed in the office over your allocated hours. Payroll was sacrilegious to him, he didn’t want any of you over your set hours for the week.

You were convinced he was cutting the hours you were clocked in for anyways, but that was a problem for future you to stress over.

Whatever was going on behind the scenes, you didn’t care. You got to finish up the last bit of work in the comfort of your apartment with a glass of wine. That sounded better than anything.

Your apartment wasn’t far from your office, but it wasn’t quite in the heart of the city. It was in this perfect sweet spot. You could walk almost anywhere and it was far enough from downtown that it was marginally quieter. It was perfect, your little oasis.

Becca didn’t live far from you either although she lived in much better quality. A beautiful Victorian brownstone was her home, envy coursed through you just thinking about it.

It was a perfect mix of that classic historical elegance and modern touches that elevated the space. Courtesy of her parents as a graduation gift, the brownstone fell under her ownership.

Her parents were rich like that, casually gifting their daughter a brownstone and monthly allowance that blew your mind when she first told you how much it was.

It was a wonder why she even worked in the first place. Wealth like that was generational, she could afford to do nothing the rest of her life and still pass down money that would fund the family for many more generations.

She wasn’t snobbish though, much to your dismay. Becca was perfect and it was a little unfair. She was kind and beautiful and had a brain that rivaled Einsteins. You were just lucky to call her your best friend.

Right now, your heart really yearned for cocktails and gossip on her back patio, but duty called and she was probably busy working on her master's thesis.

The journey from the sidewalk to your front door was a blur, all you remembered was sidestepping dog shit on the walkway and then you were magically home.

Some days just called for a dissociative walk home.

Shrugging your purse and jacket off, you made quick work of discarding your shoes as you made a beeline for your bedroom.

You were a hurricane of movements; clothes off and thrown about your room, one towel fitted around you, the other over your shoulder, hair maneuvered up into a high bun in a fluid movement that felt like second nature.

The last thing you wanted to do was shower, but a piece of your brain held onto the superstition of washing off any bad feelings, motives, energy from the work day prior.

You didn’t really believe it worked but on days you saved showers for in the morning, unfortunate things followed suit. So maybe you were just a little convinced the shower acted as a spiritual cleanse to ward off bad energy… if it worked, it worked.

You showered like a well-oiled machine, a routine you had done hundreds of times with the siren call of your couch beckoning at you. It always worked. Friday showers were always your shortest.

By the time you got out of the shower, the sun was fully set, your apartment cast in red, white, and green colors courtesy of the Christmas tree and lights you had strung up all over the place.

If December was good for anything, it was an excuse to have all sorts of fairy lights strung up around your apartment. It made the space feel brighter than it usually was, but maybe you were just a sucker for ambient lighting.

Dinner was cold pizza and healthy, heaping side of wine. A grand, beautiful start to your weekend in your twenties.

Love, Actually played for the hundredth time on your TV, it was tried and true and arguably one of the best Christmas movies to exist. Others would argue it wasn’t even a Christmas movie, but they didn’t know what they were talking about.

Laptop in your lap, wineglass sat on your coffee table, the only thing that put a damper on your otherwise perfect night was the excel spreadsheet you couldn’t figure out.

You were halfway set on giving up, but you really couldn’t. It was that or accepting defeat and sending this off for one of your other, more competent co-workers to finish it.

That would be ideal, if everyone wasn’t equally as stumped and swamped as you. So, it was either you figured it out or you figured it out.

Sighing, you made work of what you could.

˖᯽ ݁˖·

Tears were shed.

You were five minutes away from pulling your hair out before it just clicked. What you were missing, what was going wrong.

Five minutes later, your numbers were right and congruent with the information necessary for the report.

You had done it.

A week or so overdue, but it was done and Jim couldn’t complain about that now could he? You couldn’t stop the tears that welled up when you pressed save and submit.

Two weeks of trial and error. Of staring at your screen for hours wondering how you got here, if you really liked your job, and how financially devastating it would be for you if you quit.

But you had done it, gotten over the hump.

At least until Monday.

Your laptop was shut off and closed. It wasn’t seeing a lick of you until the time struck 9:00 am on Monday morning.

Stretching out and doing a little shimmy, you grabbed your phone laying face down on the coffee table. ESPN’s widget of the Blackhawks game versus the Blues popped up: the Blackhawks lost.

You frowned, Connor probably wasn’t gonna take that well. He never did.

Scrolling down, your eyes were drawn to your latest notification: BEDARD GOES DOWN TUNNEL, END OF 3RD, CLUTCHING RIGHT SHOULDER.

Your heart dropped.

You knew hockey was physical, more violent than necessary, and most players played through insane injuries, it just felt a little more deeper, more worrying, when it happened to somebody you knew and loved.

Anxiety gripped you, finger pressing the notification before you could even think about it. You didn’t know if you even wanted to watch the video, but worry overwhelmed you, you had to see how bad it was.

ESPN was barely able to open before your screen turned gray, an incoming call. It was Connor.

You didn’t think before picking up, speaking before the call even started.

“Are you okay? I literally just saw the notification from ESPN.” Your words were fast and jumbled, heart racing more than it should have been.

You could hear movement from the other side, muffled voices before he cleared his throat and spoke, “Uh, yeah, I feel…” he paused for a moment.

“You were so going to say fine weren’t you.” He laughed at you, tired and worn out. You could see it clearly, him slouched over, head down trying to work a way around the arm shaped elephant in the room.

Connor wasn’t very fond of feelings, specifically his feelings. Talking about them made them real, you couldn’t take back words or forget they exist. It was a territory he seldom found himself him in.

“Yeah, yeah I was. Was gonna try and fake it ‘till I made it.” Rolling your eyes, you sat up. You could hear the apprehension in his voice, the thin veil of his dishonesty falling. He never lied to you, not really.

“I was going to be worried either way. That was terrifying to watch. One moment you were up and the next you were down, clutching your shoulder. I couldn’t even see what happened.”

He clicked his tongue. “Fucking thing dislocated on me and tore. It hurts like a bitch.”

You frowned. “That easily? That’s not normal, Con.”

You had him figured out. His shoulder wasn’t a freak accident, it was a lingering injury he was playing through because he felt it was his personal duty to uplift a team.

Wasn’t gonna work in the long run unless he wanted to be medically retired early. You knew hockey players were freaks, playing through nasty injuries consciously and willingly, didn’t mean it was something you personally condoned.

Especially with someone so close to you.

“I guarantee you if there was still 10 minutes left in that period you would’ve argued to go on and play.” It felt like he stopped breathing.

You really had him figured out. A lot more than he knew. You could be hundreds of miles away and you could still read him like book. He tensed for a moment, body locking in a way that was between discomfort and awareness. Of what, he didn’t want to harp on.

“I could’ve.” He muttered out.

“I could’ve.” You mocked him, wine glass long forgotten as you sprawled on the couch, phone in hand.

It was hard to think about anything else with him. You didn’t press yourself why, always dancing around the Connor sized shape your heart was molded into. You were a one track mind on the way to disaster, it was only a matter of when.

“I would’ve whooped your ass if you did that.” Humor was easier to hide under, keeping the invisible barrier up and firm.

He chuckled tiredly, using his working hand to rub a smile off his face. You did that to him, whether you knew it or not, made it easier to breathe.

Silenced enveloped the two of you, briefly, before you spoke up again,

“Are you flying back with the team tonight?” You were curious and maybe a little too lazy to check where they'd going next. Might as well go directly to the source.

“Yeah, I am. Shouldn’t be a long flight. Frank’s gonna give me shit about this.” He mumbled. You could envision him moping on the other side of the phone.

Your reply came quick, smile pulling on your lips, “It was pretty uncool that the air took you out. Probably deducted a lump some of aura points.”

He groaned, “My aura.”

He defended himself quickly. “That literally didn’t even happen anyway. Schenn shoved me down off the draw.”

It was unfortunate for him how easy he was to irritate. “Looked like a light tap, Con. Our delicate little prince.”

His was reaction was immediate. “Cut that shit out right now.”

You laughed harder than you should've, but it never failed to tickle you when he got riled up. Could always dish it but never take it.

Abruptly, a chorus of voices filtered throughout your phones speaker. The loudest ones you recognized easily, Frank and Vlasic. Frank was an extension of Connor himself, Alex you weren’t too familiar with but you knew the three got along well.

The whole locker room did. It was sweet. One of the better aspects of hockey you thought.

“Shoulder alright, Bedsy?” Alex, you assumed, spoke. More movement sounded from the other side as you sat there and listened.

“Eh, been better. Should be okay soon.” Connor said plainly. He was the biggest liar, Frank was smart enough to catch it.

“Should be better soon.” He mocked.

“You don’t run down the tunnel frantically if it wasn’t something serious. It’s in a sling.” Frank deadpanned. You couldn’t help the startled words that spilled from your lips. “A sling?”

You didn’t know what you expected. Of course it would be constrained to some degree, he just failed to mention it.

You didn’t know how it was possible, but you swore you could feel the pique in curiosity in both Frank and Alex. “Is that you I think it is?” Frank questioned. You laughed softly, “Hi Frank.”

A battle ensued for the phone, you gathered, based on the angry shouts from Connor and the all too happy and carefree laughs from Frank, Alex egging them on.

Sounds of running echoed through your speaker before an exasperated Frank spoke. “Pretty lame how he hurt himself, eh?”

You snorted. “Air, Frank. It was all the air.”

You were up now, your legs were getting restless. The movie on your TV long forgotten, wine glass now emptied.

“I could hear the sound of his aura drop, you know? Like Minecraft XP.”

You couldn’t help the jubilant scream the left you. “That’s what I said!”

You both laughed harder than you should’ve. The joke was juvenile, like, you were not the intended target audience, but it didn’t make it any less funny.

You were concerned, of course, but Connor was surrounded by team trainers and men who have gone through worse or equal injuries. He was with well-versed company.

Plus, this was payback from all the times he’d say stupid shit. It was his and Franks trademark at this point.

“Uh, oh I see a very pissy Connor slugging his way over here.” Frank bemused.

Your eyebrows lifted. “Jesus how far did you run?”

He hummed. “A few gates away.”

Your mouth dropped open slightly. “You’re not wiped from the game?”

“Nah, not usually. Adrenalines still got me wired.” Ah, that was it. You’d forgotten about the after game adrenaline highs they usually got. You only got an adrenaline high when you were watching The Walking Dead.

“How’s the 9-to-5 treating you? Hasn’t screwed your pretty brain up, has it?” You grimaced. His sweet talk was awkward at best, especially coming from someone you viewed as a little brother.

“Why do you all ask the same thing? It’s been hell but at least I have a job.” You were drowned out mid-sentence by the sound of arguing and more jostling.

It wasn’t long before Connor’s voice sounded, “What’d he say to you? Anything weird? Creepy?”

Frank was shouting over him before you could even reply. “Weird? Creepy? Come on, dude, I’m the most stand up gentlemen ever. You’re the weird one with a—” Frank’s sentence abruptly cut off, the sound of groaning faded as footsteps walked away.

“Did you just…?” You didn’t even have to finish your sentence.

“He deserved a black eye, but all he got was a kick to the nuts.” You weren’t even going to question it.

“Okay… weird. Not even gonna ask.”

“Good don’t.”

That was even weirder. Someone was awfully uptight tonight.

The two of you went quiet for a minute, you listened to the background noises on the other side of the phone, head laying against the back of your couch.

You heard chirps from the other guys, small talk from flight attendants, and more rustling before things quieted down.

“Sorry, just sat down in the plane.” You looked at the time, it was almost 11. He sounded tired. You didn't know what to say, cheering people up wasn't necessarily your forte. All you could do was offer him your support. He needed to know someone was there for him, unconditionally.

“Call me if you need me, kay? I still owe you for the last time.” He was cautious in that uncomfortable way he got when somebody was trying to do something nice for him.

Deflecting, he spoke. “That was instinct. I’m always gonna come running if you need help.”

“Then ditto.” You mused firm enough he knew you were serious.

He sighed before speaking, “Fine. I will. I’ll run you ‘round like a dog.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Connor huffed out a laugh. Although muffled slightly, you could hear the call of the Captain over their planes speaker. It was time to hang up, you’d been on the phone way longer than you’d thought.

And, maybe the wine was starting to set it.

“‘Bout to take off, I’ll text you when I get home.”

You hummed, “You better.”

Exchanging quiet goodbyes before the line went silent and you were left to stare at your now dark phone. Your heart beat faster like it always did when you talked with him, were near him.

It was something you were still adjusting too, still not quite able to grapple with the conundrum of it.

He made it so easy to forget about everything. Just talking to him everything else muddled down, time moved slower, your stress eased, a stupid, loopy smile planted on your face.

It was a problem. A big one. Because toeing the line felt exhilarating and terrifying at the same time and you were worried the more that you wanted, the less you’d be able to hide.

Love was tricky, it always was.

You were just hoping it’d spare you of its games.

˖᯽ ݁˖·

Three days later, you’d gotten your wish you’d wanted all those months ago.

Connor was now injured for the foreseeable future and he did not deal well with ideal time. It was actually quite unfortunate how little down time he usually had.

His days usually filled with travel, practice, games, all the other glamorous things that came with being a professional hockey player, were put on pause.

Besides physical therapy and the sparing doctors appointments, Connor was free to do what he wanted, mobility limited of course.

He chose to spend his time in the form of constant reels and texts.

CONNOR: Have you watched fruit love island

read, 3:37

YOU: no… please tell me you haven’t

CONNOR: 🫡

YOU: what else have you done today???

CONNOR: Uh woke up, went to the rink, came home and scrolled

YOU: and when did you get home

CONNOR: Like around 11

YOU: connor 😭

CONNOR: You won’t hang out with me

YOU: because i have a job?? a J-O-B— JOB. do you know what that is??

CONNOR: Never heard of it

YOU: gtfo 😭 i have to actually do my JOB go hang out with frank or something

CONNOR: All the guys are in ottawa rn

CONNOR: All i have is you

CONNOR: No one is better than you

read, 3:48

You dropped your phone.

How could he send something like that so casually? Like it didn’t mean literally everything.

You were so doomed it was gross.

CONNOR: Hello?

YOU: you’re lucky Christmas is in 3 days im actually free from being a corporate slave

CONNOR: Bet

CONNOR: I’ll see you then

YOU: ?

read, 3:51

That was ominous and slightly threatening, you felt.

You wouldn’t be surprised if you went home and found him sitting somewhere in your dark apartment. Unemployment did that to a person.

Setting your phone aside, you placed your hands on your keyboard staring blankly at your computer screen. His last messages running through your brain like a rabid hamster on its wheel.

Were you grasping at straws? Or had something changed?

That was a thought you had been juggling with for months now, since he barged his way into accompanying you while you were sick.

He was serious with his promise.

He’d text everyday, call every other. No more sparring texts here and there and if he forgot to reply, he’d apologize.

That was normal friendship, wasn’t it?

You did the same thing with college friends of yours, now that time and space had put you guys apart. It was understood that everyone was busy with their own lives, friendship and contact wouldn’t be linear, but it would always be there.

With him, it was different. Intentional. From both sides, you put just as much effort in with him as he did you.

Maybe it was different because you were closer with him than you were your college friends. Lived in the same city, ran in the same circle for a while. It was easier and it meant just a bit more.

To you, at least it did.

Blankly staring at your computer screen wasn’t going to solve your problems and the puddle your brain melted into when you thought too deeply about him and strange rhythm your relationship had fallen into.

Answering passive aggressive emails was just what you needed to get your head on right and away from the mess that Connor Bedard made it.

December was all sorts of chaotic, but it felt a little more so this year.

So later that night when you opened Instagram and saw a familiar face in your DMs, you weren’t that surprised.

@franknazar14: what’s up queen

@yourusername: queen? hi frank 😭

@franknazar14: you responded fast perfect

@franknazar14: are you doing anything tomorrow night?

@yourusername: probably not unless becca shows up uninvited

@franknazar14: ok ok cool

@franknazar14: has connor asked you to go anywhere

@yourusername: no.. should he have?

@franknazar14: you’re joking

@yourusername: nope lol other than some ominous ass text yesterday he’s gone weirdly silent

@franknazar14: i thought he’d done it

@franknazar14: checks out though

@yourusername: was there a point to this frank 🫩

@franknazar14: oh yeah sorry i thought he was gonna ask but no i have to do it

@franknazar14: it’s a home game tomorrow do you wanna sit in the box with him and some of the girls

@franknazar14: for free

@yourusername: oh shit really?

@yourusername: well duh how could i say no to that? 🙈

@yourusername: and connor was supposed to ask and didn’t cause ???

@franknazar14: he’s a wuss

@franknazar14: he was probably gonna wait till last minute to stay nonchalant

@yourusername: it’s literally just going to a game. for his team. what’s crazy about that

@franknazar14: a lot of things

@yourusername: like?? 😭 why are you two so cryptic

@franknazar14: all we be revealed in due time

@yourusername: what

@franknazar14: i’ll send you the ticket and connor will give you the pass tmrw i’ll see you

@yourusername: thanks?

seen

Your birthday wasn’t for another couple months, Connor’s either. Other than Christmas being in 3 days, there was no other spectacular thing to celebrate or surprise you with.

You had no idea why Frank was acting weirder than he already did and why Connor was acting like a puppy with his tail tucked between his legs.

Together, the two of them were odd and wild enough, but now they were supposedly scheming and you were a little worried. And now you had the added stress of meeting the girls, the wives and girlfriends of the team.

It’d be fine if you were socially competent but you weren’t. Whatever you were in for, it was going to incredibly mortifying or entertaining.

You’d hope it was the latter.

Nothing ever went your way.

˖᯽ ݁˖·

Like promised, Connor did come to pick you up Tuesday night. A sleek black SUV pulled up next to the curb outside your apartment, door opening before your hand even touched the handle.

Connor’s uninjured arm retracted once you had hold of the door, ducking in and shutting it behind you. The driver didn’t hesitate to resume driving, merging back into traffic.

You immediately pinned Connor down with a stare. No greeting just straight to work. “Are you aware you can speak to me directly?”

Conner looked back at you sheepishly and you spotted possibly the tiniest blotch of blush on his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Frank’s just nosy.” He gave himself away there, he definitely knew what you were talking about.

He sat mechanically straight except for the shake of his right leg. Your eyes zeroed on the sling encasing his arm.

“A hurt shoulder doesn’t stop the blood flow to your brain. You and Frank are up to something.” Narrowing your eyes on him you watched as he squirmed in his seat, obsessively rubbing his hands over his jeans.

Oh yeah, they were so up to something.

You refrained from speaking, knowing silence would make him crack under pressure.

Well, hopefully.

Scrolling through Instagram, you kept an eye on him in your peripheral vision. Connor would rotate between staring at the window and fidgeting with something on his body or frantically typing something on his phone.

In black jeans, black beanie, a gray shirt and black jacket, he looked like he was suited up to rob a bank.

Tapping loudly on your phone you were enacting your own type of psychological warfare. Two could play nonchalant, you just knew he would crack faster than you.

Trees and buildings blurred behind the window of the car, the hum of the engine and sounds of the GPS were tonight’s ambiance.

It was perfect, lulling you into a sleepy state of serenity. Next to you, Connor grew even more restless. He would crack soon.

And he did.

By the time the car pulled into the United Center, he was turned to you speaking rapidly. “Nothing’s happening, I swear. I just wanted you to have a fun night outside of Becca and your apartment. And what’s better than watching me play hockey? Watching hockey with me.”

Right, right. Of course, that made perfect sense on paper you just weren’t buying. Placating him, you gave him a small smile and nod, a little enamored by his, dare you say, shy nature.

It was far from the loud and confident persona he put out there which was mostly what he was, but as anyone does, he had layers more than he even knew.

“Now you can yell at me as I call icing on every long ice puck.” You said.

He sighed, climbing out of the car to open your door for you. One armed, he was still half a gentleman. Half because Frank always complained how Connor would never hold or open the door for him, like you said, he held sides to him that one you’d never seen.

Your hand never met a door handle when you were with him.

Stepping out of the car, you said a quick thanks to the driver, meeting Connor to start your trek to the suite.

˖᯽ ݁˖·

“No way you’re out of breath.” Connor spoke from beside you. What he had failed to mention beforehand was how big the United Center was and far away the suites were.

You were accustomed to public transportation and your car, not walking. It was a need that you kept your car with you in the city. Walking was fine normally but the kind of walking you were accustomed to growing up in the suburbs was not the city kind.

At all.

You wouldn’t subject yourself to that lifestyle unless you absolutely had to. “Not all of us have stamina of athletic freaks now do we.” You retorted bluntly and, admittedly, out of breath.

Connor shock his head, smiling back at you as the doors to the suite became visible.

Thank God.

Matching his pace, you stretched your legs as long as possible. You were hungry, like really hungry, and nothing sounded better than finger foods.

Some women were outside the door, mingling amongst themselves. Soft laughter floated through the air, everything seemed much more amicable than you were expecting. You were bracing for a cat fight for some reason.

Gossip pages always had something bad to say about the wives and girlfriends and, shamefully, you did read what they said.

You slowed down, a wave of nerves washing over you. Connor looked behind him, question in his eyes, “You good?”

You nodded, cracking your knuckles a nervous tick you had developed years ago. “Uh yeah. Just feeling nervous I guess.”

He frowned, “Why?”

Shrugging, you stopped just a few feet from the crowd surrounding the door. “I don’t know everyone seems pretty acquainted with each other. What if they don’t like me?” You muttered looking everywhere but his eyes.

You heard the shuffle of his feet as he got closer, his free hand resting on your elbow, “If I’m confident about one thing, it’s that they’ll love you. Especially Franks girlfriend, so you’ll have her and me.” He put an extra emphasis on him leaning down to catch your eye.

“You’ve got it made. You’re funny, warm, and pretty. How could they not like you?” Your heart stuttered, breath catching.

Pretty?

That’s not a first but a territory you two never really breached. You peered up at him, hoping, praying, he couldn’t see how much that one word had affected you.

“Pretty?” It was out your mouth before you could stop it. Curiosity always got the best of you.

His face scrunched up like he was a little appalled that was what you took from his mini pep talk, but smoothly he spoke, “You’re always pretty that’s nothing new.” You fought your jaw from dropping, entire body moving in autopilot as you mindlessly followed him.

The women noticed him throwing warm smiles and greetings his way, curious eyes on you as he introduced you. “This is my…” Connor paused for a moment silently considering his next work.

You couldn’t tell whether he was doing as this as a bit or was genuinely considering what you were to him, “friend.” He finished off.

All eyes were on you now as you plastered a friendly smile on your face trying to ignore the beating your heart was taking. “Hi.” Short and simple and you really had nothing else to offer.

Swallowing hard, you looked at Connor pleadingly for an escape, he looked back at you with an oddly fond smile and what you took as an evil glint in his eye.

A clamor of sweet and simple greetings shot your way nothing more than that before they were all swept back into their previous conversations.

Your body instantly deflated as you walked through the suites door. “Don’t ever do that to me again, Con. That was uncomfortable.” He laughed handing you a plate. Hot containers of food were out your stomach rumbled just looking at them.

“That was normal. You just looked like someone flashed you in front of everybody.” Tossing your head back you groaned, “No I didn’t. Don’t say that shit.” You swatted at him before turning your back to him, all focus on stacking your plate with food.

The women filtered in as you made your way to a seat, sitting down next to Connor who was fiddling with his phone. Stabbing a chicken finger with your fork, you took a bite.

A tap on your shoulder broke your concentration on your plate, turning your head you saw a beautiful girl smiling down at you. Seriously, she was gorgeous. Model worthy.

“Hey Lex.” Connor spoke making you jolt a little bit.

Chewing fast you swallowed as she spoke, “Hey Connor,” she turned her attention on you, “I’m Alexis, Franks girlfriend.” Your shock was written on your face.

Frank was alright and all, but she was drop dead gorgeous and he was a dorky wannabe frat boy. If only he was in college.

“You seem surprised.” She laughed sitting down in the sit next to yours.

“No, no. It’s just you’re gorgeous and Frank is Frank.”

“He’s adorable isn’t he.”

You nodded slowly. Adorable in an annoying younger brother way, sure. You slyly looked over at Connor, still typing away at his phone.

If you were going to claim something as adorable, it would be the guy next to you. Alexis made a face, questioning and contemplative, she so saw you look at Connor.

“How many games have you been to?” You asked, trying to guide the conversation elsewhere.

“Since I’ve known him? Way too many.” She offered you a smile and continued, “I’ve known him for forever. We’ve been dating since college.” Your eyes widened. You guessed that was normal but your college years definitely did not entail guys and a long term relationship.

Men sucked and they got even worse as you got older. “That’s so cute! A lot of my friends married the people they started dating in college.”

She nodded, a wistful look on her face. You couldn’t begin to imagine what she was thinking. A potential future with the love her life one possible decision away. It was exciting, nerve wracking. If you were honest, you were a little jealous.

“And you? No important guy in your life? From college? Now?” Alexis asked a curious gleam to her eye.

You shook your head before answering, “No, no guy then or now. Only very briefly did I date, most of the guys were just assholes with big egos.” You shot her a smile and a shrug. It was what it was.

After your relationship woes, it was sort of refreshing hearing and seeing a healthy relationship unfold.

Her eyes went to something behind you, you started to turn your head to look before her hand shot out to grab your arm. Smiling, she spoke quickly.

“Come with me to grab some food. Games about to start.” She tugged you up along with her, her hand warm on your arm. Your eyebrows were drawn, you were so confused.

What the hell just happened? And why was everyone acting weird? You stood next to Alexis as she grabbed a plate and piled food on it. She occasionally chatted with some of the women as they came up to her, they shot you warm smiles.

Everyone seemed nice and you wanted to interact with them you just couldn’t get yourself too. If Becca was here, everything would’ve been easier but maybe that’s because you two were strangely attached because of the woes and throes of college. You couldn’t live without her, she was your best friend, someone you called a sister.

You followed Alexis back to your seats on autopilot, the game had already begun at this point. The Blackhawks were playing the Flyers, black and orange jerseys and red and black jerseys skated up and down the ice.

You found yourself oddly invested in the game more so in finding ways to insert Connor into plays. You could see where he was missed in the line up, you could see how badly he missed playing.

From next to you, his full attention was on the game. Leg shaking, foot tapping up and down, it was like he was in the game, feeling the pressure, the stress.

It was, in a weird way, mesmerizing. You liked getting to learn the little things about him, his quirks. His devotion to hockey one of the things you loved about him most. It was beautiful to see someone so passionate about what they did.

“You enjoying the game?” You jumped, startled. Connor was turned toward you, leaning in to speak.

“Of course. Love seeing everyone doing what they do.” You pointed down at the ice, tipping your head towards it. He pursed his lips before he smiled. “Then you’d realize the periods over.”

You whipped your head to the Jumbotron quickly looking over to Alexis finding her sit empty. Your mouth gaped open. “It just started?” You sputtered out.

He laughed reaching out a hand to lightly push your head. “Whatever’s goin’ on up there is more entertaining apparently. I thought you were gonna school me on icing?” He teased throwing your earlier words back in your face.

“I was thinking.” You deadpanned.

“Deeply.” Connor shook his head as he started to get up, hands tapping at his pockets.

You began to get up with him, body automatically moving to follow him. He touched your shoulder, gently guiding you back down. “I’m just going down to the locker room for intermission. To boost team morale or something.”

You nodded, easing back into your seat. “You’re bored of me already?”

He shot you a look, kicking your leg as he walked past you. “Me? Nah. You’re the one zoning out, I think you’re bored of me.”

You groaned covering your hands with your face. “Just go away. Go lift your team up.” He left, laugh fading as he grew farther away.

Great, now you were alone without any avenue of rescue besides your phone. You could only begin to imagine how you were going to embarrass yourself.

˖᯽ ݁˖·

It wasn’t long before Alexis sat back down next to you, pining you with curious stare and all-knowing smile.

“You like Connor.”

Well she certainly didn't beat around the bush. Your eyes widened almost instantly. You looked around with the panic of a chicken with its head cut off before focusing on her.

“Keep it down, will you? What the hell?” You were panic-stricken. Your heartbeat faster, the room grew hotter.

Alexis looked calm and collected, almost happy with herself. She ignored you, clapping her hands once, “And he likes you too.”

She was one word away from— wait what? She said what?

The shock must have been written all over your face as her smile grew wider. It was like she already knew everything without even knowing anything. “You don’t think so? It’s pretty obvious to me.”

You shook your head, ferociously, eyes darting to the intermission countdown in the Jumbotron. 8 minutes left but who knew when he would come back.

“I don’t think anything. How—” you stuttered, thoughts racing, “How did you know? Was it that obvious?”

She laughed some, shaking her head. “No, no, you weren’t don’t worry. Well, other than the staring it wasn’t obvious.” That wasn’t any more comforting.

“He’s just different around you. Softer? Calmer? I don’t think anyone else has picked up on it, but I can see the difference with him without you around and with you around.”

You nodded, once and then another time again for good measure. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, a big part of you didn’t even want to believe it.

Maybe she was just messing with you for some really odd reason, but you didn’t get the feeling she would do that. You wanted to say something, wanted to respond, but words failed you. Alexis sensed that, grabbing your hand and giving it a light tap. The countdown on the Jumbotron read 3 minutes.

“And he talks about you a lot. Like, a lot.” She pinned you down with a stare. “I knew who you were before you ever knew who I was, I bet.”

You hunched over, covering your hands over your face. “This is exactly what I didn’t need to hear.”

Groaning softly, you peeked at her from between your fingers. “I don’t need any false hope, Alexis. Seriously. Like none. I don’t want these… feelings to ruin the friendship.” You put a hand over your heart. Your traitorous heart.

She hummed, shaking her head. “It’s not false hope if it’s true.” The arena grew louder as the sound of the announcers came back over the speakers. You looked down at the ice, players were skating, getting in formation for the start of the period.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, hoping, praying, that maybe she was right.

˖᯽ ݁˖·

Connor slid back into his seat a few minutes after the second period started. You shoved down your nerves, downing your drink to occupy yourself. You already had to pee, that was definitely going to make the urge so much worse.

“You think they’ll win?” You whispered, leaning into him.

You were being brave. Well, your version of brave which meant inching slightly closer to him. It was exhilarating.

He frowned, eyes moving along with the play on the ice. “Z and Jaime are handing our asses to us.” That meant no. He didn’t like to accept defeat, hated it even more when he knew he could be doing something about it but physically couldn’t.

“You’ll be back on the ice soon, Con.” He nodded eyes flicking back to you. You smiled and he quickly adverted his attention. Weird.

His leg was still restless, heel hitting the floor at a fast, even tempo. Something was bothering him and you were beginning to think it wasn’t what was happening on the ice.

You thought back to the cryptic messages from him and Frank. Maybe they were planning something. They probably were.

You focused back on the game, eyes periodically drifting back to Connor. His chest puffed up from time to time like he was gearing up to do something.

His body would lean toward you, he’d turn his head just an inch before he’d shrink down, righting himself forward. He slid his hand down his face every single time like he was resetting himself. He has never acted like this.

You frowned, something was so going on. You looked over at Alexis she was in between typing on her phone and watching the game. Normal behavior, she'd fine all night except for her wicked sense of intuition.

Whatever was happening was just a Connor thing. He never ceased to confuse you.

“I’m gotta use the bathroom, I’ll be back.” You were unfolding yourself from your chair, his hand coming out to clutch your arm. “You need me to come with you?” He spoke almost pleadingly. Almost like he was saying don't go.

You looked down at him puzzled. Connor was getting up to stand before you lightly shoved his chest to sit him down. “I’m fine, I won’t get lost. Sit down.” He sat down begrudgingly, shooting you a worried looked as you walked away.

Away from him, you could finally breathe easy. Your brain finally wasn’t flipping over backwards trying to interpret every thing said or reading his every little move.

Purse slung over your shoulder, you stood just outside the door to the suite rummaging through it. You were looking for your lip gloss, hoping you hadn’t left it at home.

Every single time you intentionally searched your purse for something, you swore it made it harder to find. Case in point now, your hand was touching everything but your lip gloss.

“Did I leave it at home?” You murmured under your breath, purse now held in front of you as you peered down in it.

“Hey!” A high pitched, friendly voice sounded from behind you. Your heart skipped a beat, what was with it and everyone scaring you today?

Turning around, you found an unfamiliar face smiling behind you. You looked around, searching the hallway to see if she was talking to someone else. With her eyes on you and the hallway weirdly empty, it was apparent she was talking to you.

“Hi?” It came out as a question rather than an actual greeting. The woman before you smile grew even larger as she took a step forward.

You got a good look at her, she was a very pretty, petite blonde girl. She easily looked like one of those Instagram influencers that swore up and down ‘Bloom’ actually worked.

“You’re with Connor, right? His friend?” You nodded slowly looking for a way out of this.

“Perfect! I’ve been dying to talk to you!” She took a step forward to stand next to you, grabbing your arm practically dragging you to the bathroom.

What the hell?

You needed to use the bathroom anyway, but you did not want company and still hadn’t found your lip gloss. She was faster than you would have thought for someone you assumed was 5’2 at best.

You were having a hard time keeping up with her, but that seemed to be the theme of the day. She was clearly a woman on a mission and you had a feeling you weren’t gonna like the contents of her mission.

Pulling the door open, her grip on you loosened as you both stepped into the bathroom. It was silent except for the sound of the running air conditioner.

You hesitantly stepped closer to where she stood at the bathroom counter, fixing her hair. Sitting your purse down on the counter, you continued your search for your lip gloss. Your purse was genuinely bottomless.

You tried your best to ignore her, frequently glancing at her from the corner of your eye as the silence stretched further. It was like she was baiting you to speak first. You wouldn’t, your pride wouldn’t let and you happened to not mind silence.

Your hand touched the sleek plastic tube of your lip gloss, you mentally fist bumped yourself.

“I thought I’d go to a direct source to ask,” she started. Your hand stopped midway to your lips, applicator out. “and you’re his friend, obviously.” She gave you a pinched smile.

Arms crossed, she leaned her hip against the counter to face you. You tried to pay her little mind, nodding along to whatever bullshit she was about to spew. “So you know, like, everything about him, right? Right! Does he have a girlfriend?”

Oh the hard hitting questions. You knew this was gonna be the reason for this “chat,” you just wished she’d get on with it. Putting the applicator back in the tube, you twisted it shut, shoving it back down in your purse.

“He hasn’t mentioned one, so no.” You looked at her, placing your purse over your shoulder. You really had to pee, too, and this was dragging on.

“I thought so! Ugh, you’re such a big help. Do you think he’ll go for me? Am I his type?” She stepped away from the counter, giving a twirl and full show of her outfit.

She wore jeans, a leather, revealing top under a loose fitting coat. She was obviously athletic, not a lick of fat on her body. She also checked blonde and short of the list, so yeah she was his type.

“Uh yeah. You definitely are.” Your confidence was slipping by the second, it wasn’t hard to fall into nasty comparisons between you and her.

You were imagining her on his arm. They would look good together. Too good. Like they were the same caliber and would run in the same circles. She ran miles around you, you thought.

Now you just wanted to go home.

“Should I go up to him? What should I say? What does he like to talk about?” She rattled off questions and you mindlessly answered them.

You lied, of course. It was nothing more than friendly competition except she didn’t know you were competing for him. Hell, even you didn’t know until 20 minutes ago.

“You are just the best, seriously. A lot of girls wouldn’t help another girl out. If I get a date, I’m taking you out for drinks!” She practically squealed, your ears almost fell off. There was no way anyone could be this loud.

She was walking towards the door, furiously typing on her phone before you could even respond, dismissing you like you were nothing more than a stray cat. You’d run your course of usefulness for her.

Eyeing her back for a second, you turned around heading toward a stall.

By the time you were done with your business and were wiping your hands off you had realized something: she didn’t even know your name. Couldn’t even dignify you to ask. That brought you down just an extra notch.

˖᯽ ݁˖·

It was kind of laughable how little of the game you had actually watched.

The first period it was your own fault, lost in your head rather than lost in the game. The second period was no fault of your own, that whirlwind of a blonde had occupied you longer than you thought.

There was 3 minutes left in the second period, Hawks were down 2. It was… unfortunate.

Connor looked up at you as you approached your seat, question on his face. “Don’t ask. I wanted to pee but did that with a side of girl talk.”

The disdain must’ve been evident in your voice as Connor straightened in his seat. “Did someone bother you. A fan?”

You shook your head, rubbing your temple. “No. Well I guess you could call her a fan of yours.” His mouth formed the shape of an ‘O’, his tensed body deflating.

He rubbed his neck, “Was she nice at least?” His question was innocent but it still rubbed you the wrong way.

You hated to think that he was curious about this 'her'

“She had the enthusiasm of a Pomeranian, I’ll say that.” You felt Alexis poke you, you turned your attention to her.

She leaned into your ear, speaking lowly, “You good?” You were tired, social battery on the fringe of short-circuiting, but you were gonna fake it till you made it.

“Yup, I’m great.” Alexis gave you an unimpressed look.

The Hawks managed to score before the end of the period. The arena erupted and buzzed with energy unlike before. The hope in everyone around you raised your spirits a tad.

Connor had left back down to the locker, promising that he’d be back soon and you’d actually be able to watch the game together.

If you were being honest, you’d rather have just watched the game from home with him. At least you’d have him all to yourself there.

˖᯽ ݁˖·

Down in the locker room, Connor sulked in the corner.

Tonight was not going as planned. It felt like everything that could go wrong was going wrong. Partially his fault, mostly actually, he was a chicken. A big fat chicken who couldn’t pull the moves on you like he wanted too. Like he hyped himself up to do. How Frank did too.

Who was he to take advice from Frank? He was neither sound of mind nor smooth in any way, it was a miracle how he managed to get Alexis to be his girlfriend and for so long.

Franks advice sounded good in planning, but now that it was happening it didn’t feel so good, but maybe that’s because his stomach was in a knot and he couldn’t get you alone.

Like Frank could hear Connor mentally scorning him, he appeared.

“How’s it going? You do it yet?”

Undressed with just his hockey pads on, Frank plopped down next to Connor. They were huddled in the back corner of the room, the other guys preoccupied with eating, cooling down, or talking to specific coaches. They payed no mind to Frank and Connor, used to their antics.

“No. I haven’t done anything actually.” Connor sank down as far as he could without hurting his shoulder, staring at the white ceiling tile.

Frank made a sound of surprise, kicking him in the leg. “Nothing? Really? You haven’t, like, put your moves on her yet?”

Connor groaned. That was the problem here. Frank was simplifying this when the situation wasn’t simple at all. This was his best friend they were talking about.

This was all sorts of complicated and Connor had no clue how to deal with it. You were just his friend for years, always there with your jokes and likeness. You were comfortable, stable.

And then, you weren’t just that.

You were pretty, gorgeous, everything. You always had been to him, he just hadn’t honed in on it till recently. Sometimes he looked at you and the wind got knocked out of him.

Whether that was through FaceTime or at his apartment, talking about his former teammates, his hometown, anything, he’d look at you and be frozen.

You fit so well near him, with him. He played his growing affection off as time passing and you being a constant. Familiarity made the heart feel fonder, but this breached fondness. It was all-consuming and so confusing.

The confusion fucked with him, with everything. It was hard to focus on anything when his head immediately went to you.

He’d done it unconsciously at first, he genuinely really was busy. October was always a messy, complicated month. There wasn’t enough time to do anything let alone breathe, so when communication stretched thin between the two of you, it went from the forefront of his mind to the back of it.

He thought the space was necessary, that’d it fix whatever chaos was going inside his head. It helped for a bit, muddled it down, muted it. He was able to focus, commit all his energy to hockey and not the new way he wanted you in his life.

And then, you got sick and every feeling came back with a ferocity.

He didn’t expect to show up at your door, but the second you told him you were sick, he envisioned you home alone letting the sickness pass over you because you were too stubborn to ask for help.

He couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t leave you alone when he knew you were alone and in pain.

He was finally home and he missed you and whether you knew it or not, you needed him, he decided. So he was moving before he even thought about it. Keys in hand, he was out the door.

And before he knew it, he was outside your door watching you peek your head out the door, staring at him with those tired little eyes. It wasn’t even a thought at that point, it was instinct.

He was going to stay with you, he was going to do what he could while he could. He was pre-committed to getting sick if that meant you weren’t alone.

The more distance you put between the two of you, the more he wanted to smother it. That’s when he knew he was gone.

Distance wasn’t going to solve his problem, it was only going to worsen it.

And then he saw you curled into your couch, eyes fluttering shut, cheek pressed against your arm.

You looked perfect under the glow of the TV, he felt his resistance slipping. His mouth opened before he could stop it. He had to let you know you mattered. That he did miss you, more than anything.

He said what he could unless he wanted to light a fire he wasn’t sure he could put out.

After he put you to bed, he tried to sleep. Tossed and turned before he gave up. You were right, the couch was not meant to be slept on. He had a game that night, but he didn’t care. He could always nap before it.

He made the containers of soup, shoved them into the fridge along with the ginger shots. Took the pills out and placed them on your bedside table, trying his best to not make a sound.

The note came last, he mulled over what to say. Was it too much? Or not enough? He leaned over your kitchen counter contemplating longer than he should’ve before he wrote down a fraction of what he wanted to stay.

It was 4 in the morning by the time he left, it was then it really hit him, he couldn’t go back to being normal.

He didn’t know how too.

˖᯽ ݁˖·

So no, he hadn’t put any moves on you yet. He didn’t want to completely fuck up one of the most important relationships in his life. Frank didn’t quite seem to get the gravity of his situation.

“I’m nervous, okay? Is that what you want to hear? Alexis is also staring me down like a hawk. You have a big ass mouth.” Connor straightened up, narrowing his eyes at Frank. He knew Frank had told Alexis all about his feelings for you, spilled the plans of what tonight was supposed to hold.

“We needed a woman’s opinion on this. I was just asking for help, you should be thanking me.” Connor rolled his eyes at Frank.

Yeah, right. Just put you and him in a room full of other people who were curious enough to watch your every move, that was the perfect environment for him to make a move.

“I’m gonna do this at my speed, Frank. It’s happening tonight. Somehow” Connor grounded out, like he was trying to convince himself that.

“Atta boy, that’s the spirit!” Frank clapped his back before standing up. “Now stop talking so I can get changed.” Frank told Connor, looking slightly dejected he had to leave.

“Make me proud and stop sulking!” Flexing his muscles, Frank turned around to join the rest of the locker room in gearing up for the third period. He hoped it stayed as uneventful as the first two.

˖᯽ ݁˖·

Once again, the next period had started and Connor wasn’t back.

You tried to not act surprised but you felt a little let down. Apparently he was the man of the hour tonight. He was everywhere but with you, and it was disheartening.

Your heart and head had gotten pulled in every damn direction within the last few hours, it was exhausting. You were over it, wanting to crawl into your bed. Alexis was the only consistent highlight of the night.

She was surprisingly funny and really easy to get along with, the ice broken between the two of you as the night went on. She was keeping you sane, little did she know.

You kept looking towards the door hoping Connor would come through. You even looked down at the benches, seeing if maybe he was down there with the team. That’d be weird, but anything was possible.

By the time there was a little less than 10 minutes left in the period, you grew worried. He hadn’t texted you and all of your texts went unanswered. Maybe you were being overbearing, but technically he had invited you here, and it was feeling like he was ditching you.

Noticing the tick in your leg, Alexis motioned for you to get up. “Come on. If you’re so worried about him, let’s go look for him.”

You froze.

That wasn’t the worst idea in the world and you were kind of sick of being in this box. You could feel the stares from all the other women all night, you just wanted out now and a little adventure never hurt anyone.

Grabbing your purse, you stood up, following her out the door. The hallways had people scattered, dejected Hawks fans leaving early. They were down 3-1 now.

You mindlessly followed Alexis, trusting her judgment on wherever you were going.

“Where are we going?” You asked matching her stride.

“Down to the locker room and waiting area for the guys. Can’t imagine he’d be lingering around up here.” You hummed, that was smart.

You got into an elevator, Alexis flashing her pass as you both stepped off it and into a restricted area, you assumed. It was quiet except for the occasional thrum of the crowd and sounds of the building.

“If he’s not down here I have no clue where he’s gone.” Alexis added softly looking just as confused as you. You had a pit in your gut, one that had been forming all night. You tried to ignore it, but it was making itself more and more known.

Your gut was usually never wrong, something was going to happen you just didn’t know when. Adjusting your shirt, you bumped into Alexis’s back jolting you backwards.

You frowned, why had she stopped so abruptly?

Stepping aside and peering around her, you understood why.

Down the hall, you saw Connor leaned against the wall talking to a blonde. The same blonde that was pestering you about him. She had done what’d she promised, she was making her move.

He had a smile on his face as he spoke to her, leaning down occasionally to hear her. You were gutted.

As if noticing, Alexis took hold of your shoulders trying to turn you around. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” She added, tugging on you harder than before, but you were glued to your spot.

Watching as their interaction got deeper, went on longer. The blonde pressed her way into his space and he just… stood there. Took it.

You didn’t know you were expecting. He owed you no loyalty, he could do whatever he wanted, but fuck this hurt. It really hurt. You had your dreams answered and crushed within the span of 2 hours, it was pathetically laughable.

Alexis didn’t speak, wrapping her arm around shoulder, hand rubbing your arm. The two swapped phones, you assumed they were exchanging numbers.

Yeah, you really wanted to go home now.

They parted ways, smiles and all. You watched as she got closer, head down in her phone before she looked back and yelled, “I’ll call you later!”

Nail in coffin.

On instinct, you and Alexis hid behind a wall as the blonde passed by. You two were quiet, both trying to process what you had just seen. Heard. There wasn’t a lot of holes to fill here, the story seemed pretty self-explanatory.

“This has to be a misunderstanding—” Alexis started, you shook your head at her.

You were on the verge of tears, but you wouldn’t cry here. Couldn’t cry here. You were trying to swallow your pride, your stupid foolish hope. You were trying to put the friend facade back on.

You were happy for him. If exploring a relationship with that blonde made him happy, it made you happy. There wasn’t nothing else to it. You weren’t gonna harp on the fact you thought he might possibly have liked you an hour ago. That didn’t happen.

You knew this would happen. Knew you were going to be crushed by these stupid feelings, you were glad it happened before they had developed a little further.

“I’m gonna call an Uber. Thank you for keeping me company tonight, Alexis. It was great to meet you.” You gave her a pinched smile, pulled her into a quick before you spun on your heel and were walking away.

“But—” Alexis stopped, she knew what it felt like to be in your position. But you were wrong and this was a fluke, Connor was just stupid.

She had to find Frank immediately.

˖᯽ ݁˖·

Connor didn’t know where you went.

He’d asked the girls in the suite, they said they hadn’t seen you since you and Alexis had left earlier. He couldn’t find Alexis either.

Walking back down to the locker room, he texted you: once, twice, three times. No response.

He frowned, that was not normal for you. He was worried.

“Fuck.” He muttered picking up his pace. He didn’t even need to step into the locker room, he found Frank and Alexis standing in the waiting area outside it.

Both of them looked like they were ready to light him on fire.

“Are you fucking stupid Connor?” He was taken aback. What? What had he done?

“You don’t give your number to another girl in front of the girl you like!” Frank exclaimed. He was outraged more than he should’ve been. Connor’s stomach dropped.

He looked at Alexis, she shot him a dirty look. “I thought you liked her Connor?” He ran a hand over his hair. What were they talking about?

“I do. I do. What are you guys talking about?” He was confused and his arm was killing him and tonight was a shit show. Nothing had gone to plan. Nothing. It seemed it was blowing up right in his face.

“Connor, we saw you talking with that blonde girl. Saw you exchange numbers. Literally heard her say ‘I’ll call you.’” Alexis deadpanned. She was looking at him like he was evil and really, truly stupid.

And maybe he was because he had done that, but he was cornered. That blonde, Kelsey, did not take no for an answer. The word was not in her vocabulary and she had already held him hostage long enough before he had to cave.

Her number was already blocked and deleted from his phone.

“She cornered me! I couldn’t leave! I fucking swear it.” He pleaded, he didn’t know why their opinion mattered so much, but he had to prove it to them that he was serious. That he wasn’t a piece of shit.

Although he knew you thought he was the biggest one. Who ditches their friend like that? An asshole. A big one.

Frank was easy to convince, his anger rolling off him straight into pity. “You’re screwed, buddy. Like big time screwed.”

Alexis interjected sheepishly, “I might have let it slip that you liked her. She believed it too.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It went from worse to horrible, terrible.

“Is she here? Where’d she go?” He asked, pacing back and forth. You didn’t have a car, he’d brought you here and he planned to take you back home.

“She left like 10 minutes ago. Said she was taking an Uber.” You had slipped away before he even knew how royally he fucked up. He was losing his time to do proper, convincing damage control.

He knew how you held onto grudges, condemned people who were careless of other people’s feelings, he was falling into every single category unknowingly.

“She’s never going to talk to me again.” Connor grimaced, rubbing his aching shoulder. The cherry on top to a great night.

“You’re under the impression she even liked you anyway. If she doesn’t you’re good, you just look like a douche.” Connor’s eyes fell to Alexis, her face screwed up in an uncomfortable way.

His stomach dropped.

“She does like him, Frank.” Alexis looked him straight in the eye. “She likes you, Connor.”

He wanted to die.

Frank blew a big huff of air out his mouth, hands falling to his hips. “We had mistletoe and everything, how could you fuck this up so bad?”

Connor didn’t know. Didn’t know how he got here. He almost had you, he was so close to confessing. To spilling his guts. Then he fucked it up, blew any chance of anything out of the water. He walked into tonight thinking he had you, now he wasn’t sure if he would ever have you again.

Fuck.

Pairing: connor bedard x reader!gf

Prompt: you accidentally burn yourself while cooking with Connor, and he’s instantly trying to protect you

requested!

You learned quickly in the beginning of your relationship with Connor that cooking wasn’t exactly his strong suit. In fact, he was almost so bad that you continuously had him just sit back and watch. However, he was determined to start learning. He’d text you ideas he saw online, and ask if you guys could cook together for dinner instead of going out that night. You always agreed instantly, not that you don’t like going out with Connor, but you loved a home cooked meal. Especially if it was one he tried to put so much effort into.

Now, a few years into your relationship Connor had improved immensely. Now, it was you that he was telling to sit back while he cooked for you. It had become a love language of his, and you adored it. Not only could the man never keep his hands off you, but now he insisted on cooking for you too?

So, after leaving work that day you were not surprised to see the dinner idea Connor had texted you. You check the time, knowing that he won’t be done with practice for a little while yet. So you reply, saying sounds amazing and you would go to the grocery store now.

connor bedard x celebrini!sister

summary: connor and macklin face off in the last game of the blackhawks' season. cw: none requested: yes

i bit the bullet and gave celebrini!reader a name. idk. but i named her makenna. like those are perfect twin names "macklin & makenna"!!!! also included riley and hallie from my coming up roses au although its not like you need to read all of that.

let me know if y'all want me to write anything else for connor and celebrini!sister or any other characters in my series. REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

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