#connorbedard

The morning sun filtered through the half-open blinds, casting soft stripes of light across the room. The plush polyester cushions enveloped two of the Hughes brothers' friends, who were still sprawled out in last night’s clothes, presumably still drunk. Beer cans littered the floor, crumpled and empty. Trevor’s arm dangled off the couch, while his other hand clutched a drool-covered pillow. Across from him, Alex scrolled through his Instagram feed, the volume muted to avoid further tormenting his hungover brain.

I stirred in my bed as the warmth beside me shifted, the weight of the blankets suddenly feeling lighter. Slowly, I opened my eyes and propped myself up on my elbows. Connor's bare back faced me, his muscles rippling subtly as he stretched.

“Con?” I mumbled, my voice husky with sleep.

He turned toward me, his hair falling messily over his eyes, shadowing his face in the soft morning light. “Hey, babe. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said softly. Leaning over, he brushed a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. His eyes glimmered as they met mine.

“Why are you up? It’s so early,” I murmured, my gaze drifting down to his toned abdomen.

Connor let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling from his chest. “It’s twelve, baby—it’s not exactly early.”

A groan escaped my lips. “Come on, Y/N, I’m starving. Doesn’t some warm eggs or waffles sound sooo good right now?” he teased, giving my body a gentle shake.

“Mmm, I guess it does,” I mumbled back.

With a swift motion, Connor ripped the duvet off me, crumpling it at the bottom of the bed. He swung his legs off the mattress, his feet padding softly against the wooden floor as he moved toward his bag. He pulled out a pair of pajama pants and a Blackhawks Hockey t-shirt, but just as he went to slip on the shirt, I interrupted with a playful plea.

“Do you haaaave to?” I drawled, dragging out my words.

“Do I have to?” Connor echoed with a smirk.

“Put that on,” I pouted.

“My shirt?” He laughed as I nodded in return. “Why? You like what you see?”

I stepped closer, our bodies barely inches apart. He shivered as my fingers traced the contours of his chest, cool against the warmth of his skin. “Hmmm, maybe I do,” I said, smiling sheepishly.

My hand drifted up to his face, my fingers grazing down his jawline as he leaned into my touch. His large hands found my waist and pulled me flush against him. He pressed his lips to mine, humming softly at the contact.

“Yoooo, what the fuck!” came a third voice from behind the cracked door. Connor and I broke apart instantly, my lips already missing his warmth.

“Can you not do my sister while we’re all here? Matter of fact, at all?” Jack's voice rang out.

“We weren’t—” Connor stammered.

“Get outta here, Jack, oh my god,” I groaned, rolling my eyes.

“Well, I was gonna tell you that me and Quinn made breakfast—or, I guess, lunch—but it seems like you two already ate... each other’s faces,” Jack said sassily.

“Wait, no! I’m sorry, I’m starving!” I shouted after Jack, who was already halfway down the hallway.

“Come on, Connie,” he pouted, clearly embarrassed by what had just happened. I clasped Connor's hand and dragged him down the hallway to the kitchen. Luke, Trevor, and Alex were gathered around the circular table, their faces buried in their plates. You’d think these boys hadn’t eaten in days. The can beneath Trevor's hand crunched under pressure as he washed down his sugary waffles with a gulp of beer.

“Wow, drinking already?” I remarked as Connor and I walked through the doorway.

“You know it,” Trevor replied, lifting his drink in the air like a trophy.

“Morning, guys,” my eldest brother Quinn greeted as we reached the kitchen island.

“Morning, Quinnifer,” I responded, filling a plate with pancakes, piling on butter and syrup.

“What are we doing today?” I asked, glancing over at Quinn.

“I think we’re just hanging around today. Might take the boat for a spin,” he answered.

Connor stayed quiet, following my lead as he gathered his own plate of food. He grabbed a few pancakes, steering clear of the sugary toppings and opting for some fruit instead. If I had pressed him on it, he would have had to explain how his trainer would kill him for indulging too much.

Connor looked up at Jack and Quinn. “Thanks for the food, guys. This looks great,” he said before heading to take a seat. My brothers both responded with casual, “No problem, man.”

By the time everyone finished, it was almost one-thirty. All the boys, besides Connor, had changed into swimwear and piled into the living room. Out on the back porch, I sat in a hammock wrapped in Connor’s arms.

“Do you want to go boating with everyone else today?” I asked, breaking our comfortable silence.

His lips parted. “We’ve spent the last couple of days with the boys… this could be our chance for some alone time,” he proposed.

I tilted my head up at him, my cheek resting against his soft shirt. “Hmmm, I can get behind that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I smirked. “What do you have in mind?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out,” he shrugged.

This dork is gonna be the death of me.

I put this together super quickly for yall! I wanted to get something out as so many people wanted more! What do u want connor and reader to get up to next part?