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bqstqnbruin · 9 months

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See You Again

I'm actually posting a fic for the first time in seven months aka the first fic I've finished in seven months peace love teaching

anyway, I wrote this for the lovely @wyattjohnston's summer fic exchange! I got to write for @selfindulgentpoorlywritten but I've never written for Nico before, so I hope you like this (I was fully inspired by my own mess of a life)

Edit since I’m a dumbass thank you to @kat-hearts for reading this first and being amazing ily 😭

One of the characters, Nat is nonbinary, and I did my best to make the reader gender netural, which I haven't done before on either account, so I hope I did it justice (if something is glaringly wrong, please let me know!)

Warnings: I was mean with the ending? A little? Also, some swearing, drinking, almost physical fighting

Word Count: almost 2.8k

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“When was the last time you saw him?”

You tried to shift through your memory to figure that out. In person, the last time was sometime in the first week of December about two years ago. Thinking about him, which thankfully didn’t count, would involve you giving a much more recent answer, way more recent than you would really like to admit. “I don’t remember.”

“Well,” your roommate Nat says, looking down at their phone. “I have bad news.”

“Fucking hell,” you moan, tilting your head to hit the back of the seat of the Uber. You knew what they were going to say before the words even started to come out of their mouth.

“Nico is going to be there tonight. With all the guys.” You let out another groan, the Uber driver giving you a scowl through the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry! Jack didn’t know he was coming, or he would have told us way before we got ready.”

You stare out the window, trying to think of all the ways that you could get out of this situation. You already paid for the Uber and didn’t want to pay for another one. You weren’t about to go somewhere by yourself, especially since the bar you were heading towards wasn’t within a reasonable walking distance if you were to go somewhere by yourself, and no way was Nat going to leave with you without Jack, and Jack, of course, wasn't going to leave without his teammates.

“We can go back right now and I’ll tell Jack to have fun with his team instead,” Nat tells you as if they could read your mind. They put their hand over yours, trying to give you any sense of calm that was setting into your panic. “We do not have to be around Nico.”

“What kind of person tells someone they like them but not enough to date them?” you mutter, knowing you and Nat have had this conversation many times on your kitchen floor, drunk and crying together at 2 in the morning. They had introduced you to Nico one night after a game when the team went out to celebrate. They had been dating Jack for about a year at that point, meeting him through his brother at Michigan and reconnecting when they both realized they were going to be in New Jersey together. Quinn had used the reasoning of, “he won’t know anyone in the state,” only for everyone to realize later that he knew Jack had been smitten with Nat since they met. If only you had been so lucky.

You had known of Nico, obviously. How could you not? He was the captain of the Devils, the team you grew up surrounded by, the number one draft pick in the sport your roommate never shut up about. He covered your social media feeds without you really wanting them to and everyone you knew talked about what a great game he had the night before. You couldn’t escape the idea of him, no matter where you went.

When you met him that night a few years back, there was something about him in person that you were drawn to. He had been just an idea to you, not someone you could think about as being real. You spent that entire night with him, your friends either wandering off or you too enthralled with Nico to notice that they were there. Nat and Jack were heading back to your place before last call, and you were left knowing that you had to see Nico again.

He asked if he could kiss you, making you melt as his hand gently snaked its way to your cheek, pulling you close when you said yes and covering your mouth with his. You waited for his text the next day, anxiously checking your phone until he finally did after 3 pm. From then on, you told each other everything, texting each other whenever you could, him calling you and heading over to your apartment whenever he didn’t have an obligation to the team. You fell hard for him and you had believed that he felt the same about you.

“The kind of person who doesn’t know what they have until it’s gone,” Nat tells you, trying to pep you up. “Hey, we can find you a guy that is just as hot as Nico tonight.”

“I’m gonna move to Ireland and isolate myself with the spuds.”

“Act like you can be away from me for that long,” they tease, earning a laugh from you. “I’m serious, though. Tell me what you want to do, or who you want to do, and Jack and I will make it happen.”

You didn’t want someone just as hot as Nico, you wanted Nico. You hated the fact that there was more than one time that you had pulled up his messages on your phone, part of you unable to delete that conversation thread even though you knew it would be the healthy thing to do. But you weren’t known amongst your friends for doing what was best for your mental wellbeing, so you kept them, going back through the conversations you had in the four months you were seeing him. The last text was what haunted you the most, him telling you that he was going to be back in Switzerland for the summer and that he ‘didn’t want you tied down to one person’ while he was gone.

He said he would text you when he was back.

He never did.

There were multiple times when you wanted to text him, but you never did, either.

“Yeah,” you manage to choke out. “Let’s do it.”

You spend the rest of the ride in silence, trying to think of where in the bar you would be able to hide from Nico so that he wouldn’t see you. The guys were already inside, Jack telling Nat about 10 minutes ago that they went to start drinking as fast as they could.

The bar was somehow muggy inside, as if the beer itself hung in the air rather than the sweat of the nearly one hundred drunk people that were crowding every square inch of the floor. Jack was easy to spot for Nat, his five foot eleven frame not the largest of his teammates, but still distinct enough that your roommate had left your side within seconds of entering to be with their partner.

So much for finding you someone tonight.

You tried to stay away from him, closer to Nat and Jack as best as you could, but they kept wandering off from you. The last thing you wanted to do was go with them when they were both on their way to drunk and have a history of doing slightly illegal things in the bathrooms at bars.

You had to find someone to talk to. Any person who looked interesting. Any other guy on the team who you were friends with, but that was really only Jack, and that was really only because he’s dating Nat. Your phone was your only comfort, finding a table that had been pushed up against the wall and hoping that there was something you could doom scroll on that would distract you from looking towards Nico.

He had the right to do what he wanted at the bar with his teammates. You weren’t together.

“You ok?” you hear during a lull in the music, pulling you away from your phone for a moment. You didn’t know who was standing in front of you, one of the newer guys from the trade deadline that Nat definitely hadn’t introduced you to. He was waiting for you to respond, looking like he had wanted to sit down with you.

“Yeah, just, not a big ‘going out’ person.”

He lets out a nervous laugh, a smile that sends a jolt through your system that you hadn’t felt in a while. Since Nico, if you were really willing to be honest with yourself. “Me neither, honestly. I’m just here because I didn’t have anything else to do.”

“I got dragged here with my roommate so they can be with their boyfriend,” you tell him, gesturing to Nat and Jack trying their best to sneak out of the bathroom, Jack’s shirt buttoned wrong, both of their previously neatly styled hair in a mess that you only saw after hearing them the night before.

“So that’s the infamous Nat,” he says, taking the seat beside you. You nod as he continues, “Jack never shuts up about them. Not that Jack shuts up about anything or anyone, ever, but especially not Nat.”

“I always knew he was a good one,” you tell him, introducing yourself so he knew you as more than just, ‘his teammate's partner’s roommate.’

“I’m Timo.”

You spent the rest of the night bouncing between the table and the bar with Timo, him buying you every drink you wanted. There was something about him that was different, but you couldn’t focus all of your attention on him.

He was talking about his time in San Jose while you were waiting for your next round of drinks. You couldn’t focus on a word he was saying, Nico within your line of sight talking to a girl. A really attractive girl, you might add. You felt your heart drop, feeling a lump in your throat forming faster than you could lie to yourself about that scene having no effect on you. Naturally, Nico would talk to other people. You hadn’t talked to him in two years, let alone seen him in person. Just because you couldn’t get over him, no matter how hard you tried, that didn’t mean he didn’t get over you.

“And then I got traded here, and I love it, so far,” you tune back into Timo, who is suddenly much closer than you remember. It’s just because the bar is loud, people are starting to crowd for drinks, and, fuck, you have to admit, he’s pretty hot.

Nico was still watching.

Timo took your hand, leading you off to the table where you were before, the drinks in your hand probably not ones that you needed to begin with. His free hand snaked its way to your waist, pulling you close to him. You could feel your heart racing faster with every inch he got closer to you. You wanted him to kiss you.

You thought you did.

“I’m sorry,” you pull away right as his lips were about to meet yours, tears starting to form in your eyes, leaving the drink he bought you in his hands as you ran from him. Your breath catches in your throat while you try to find Nat and Jack, just praying that they weren’t back in the bathroom or too intoxicated in general to help out.

You heard Timo calling after you, somehow, through the volume of the music and your own drunkenness, breaking through and getting to you. You didn’t want Timo calling your name, you wanted it to be Nico.

You needed it to be Nico.

“Hey, hey,” you hear, feeling a familiar hand gently place itself on your arm. You turn around, Nico’s face a mixture of concern and fury. “What did he do?”

“He, he,” you stammer, the tears falling faster the more you looked at him, every memory you had with him suddenly rushing back into your mind. “He didn’t do anything. You did.”

You yank your arm from him, trying to find anywhere to be in the building that didn’t have one of Nico’s teammates looking at you causing a scene. You knew he was following you, calling your name again and again over the music. People were starting to stare, but no part of you cared, trying harder to not let the tears that were burning your eyes fall down your cheeks.

Nat and Jack were nowhere to be seen, the rest of Nico’s teammates trying to figure out what was going on when you burst through the front door of the bar, the cold fall air hitting your face as soon as you did. You let out a sob, trying to steady yourself against the wall of the building, sliding down to the ground while people waiting to get in tried to figure out if they should help you or if you were just another drunk person having some sort of meltdown that was none of their business.

“Hey,” you hear, a soft voice coming from above you. “I’m so sorry if I did something wrong.” Timo slid down next to you. “I read the situation wrong, I thought you were also into me.”

“I am, I just,” you start, trying to think of what to say.

“Hey, what the fuck did you do?” Nico yells, pulling Timo off the ground. “What did he do to make you cry?”

“Nico, stop,” you let out, Timo looking both confused and terrified by his new captain’s hand on his shirt collar. “He didn’t do anything.”

“What the fuck did I miss?” Timo asked, slowly trying to back away from Nico staring you down.

“Why can you talk to other people and I can’t?” you ask him, feeling your sadness turn into anger. “You had no issue not talking to me for the last two years.”

“I’m gonna go,” Timo lets out, barely loud enough for the two of you to hear and sneaking away before you could notice.

“You didn’t want to talk to me,” Nico counters, taking a step towards you. “But you wanted to talk to TImo instead?”

“Where the fuck did you get that idea?”

“You never texted me. You’ve spent the entire night avoiding me. You think I didn’t see you when you were by yourself on your phone?”

“You were in Sweden. And you could have come up to me and talked to me, what was stopping you? Oh, that’s right, your new girlfriend.”

“Switzerland. And she’s not my girlfriend. I haven’t seen anyone in ages.”

“Wherever you were, you weren’t here,” you tell him, your back against the wall. How long had it been since he had last seen someone? There was no way you had been the last person he was with. “You told me you didn’t want to be tied down while you were back home. You didn’t even want to talk to me, because if you did, you would have.”

“You’re joking,” he scoffs. “You think I didn’t want to talk to you? Every fucking day I have thought about how our conversations would go when I saw you after you get home from work. I would think about you telling me about your day, about everything you would tell Nat, or whoever you were seeing at the time. Every single person I saw in the last two years, I wanted them to be you.”

You didn’t know what to say, letting Nico’s words sink in. “Then why didn’t you text me when you came back from Switzerland?”

Nico took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head up to the sky. “Because I thought there was no way someone else wouldn’t have realized how amazing you are. There was no way I could be someone who you thought was worth waiting for.”

Nico takes a step towards you, his hand gently taking yours. This was a moment you had been thinking about since he left for Switzerland two years ago. You knew he was going to kiss you, having you pinned against the wall of the building. His free hand cupped your cheek.

“There you guys are!” Nat interrupts, them and Jack clearly having just finished up doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. Nico steps away from you, clearing his throat, the red in his cheeks so noticeable there was no way even your roommate wouldn’t comment on it later. “We’ve been looking for you, for um.”

“Long enough,” Jack finishes their sentence, a stupid smile covering his face. You knew he was lying, but no part of your brain was letting you focus on that. Nico leaned against the building, his arm up over your head. “The uber’s almost here. Are you ready to go?”

No. “Yes.”

The three of you leave Nico standing there by himself, Nat and Jack falling asleep in the Uber as soon as it gets on the highway.

You check your phone for the first time in a while, a lone notification popping up on your phone that hadn’t been there in almost two years.

‘Nico, iMessage.’

#nico hischier #nico hischier fic #new jersey devils #devils #new jersey devils fic #devils ic #summer fic exchange 2023

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sterek-exchange · 10 months

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Summer 2023 Sterek Exchange Round-up

the hale pack shares three braincells by @dyke-yoonji for @just-another-busy-fangirl-writes

The Rental Boyfriend by @evanesdust for @sterekbros

You and I Collide by @sterekbros for @evanesdust

Just Like His Father by @just-another-busy-fangirl-writes for @thinkingaboutelephants

Dude, Why Didn't You Tell Me Your Cousin Is Hot by @randomfanfic-er for @evadne01

When the Teacher Met the Agent by @dreamlandforever for @mintonarel

Beacon Hell by @arsenicalikat for @eevylynn

Where We Belong by @dreamlandforever for @arsenicalikat

Why Can’t This Be Love? by @dreamlandforever for @mintonarel

the summer we fell in love and slayed a dragon by @thinkingaboutelephants for @zwatchtowerz

The Wedding Date by @goddess47 for @jld71

Tomorrow could be another day by @zwatchtowerz for @peujeune

If the stars could speak I might understand by @peujeune for @dreamlandforever

for all those pages thumbed by @peujeune for @randomfanfic-er

my heart's on fire (and so is the building over there, fuck-) by @fixation-central for @goddess47

Love And Coffee by @jld71 for @fixation-central

The spark in you by @evadne01 for @dyke-yoonji

Thank you to everyone that participated this round! There are 17 wonderful fics to read from this round. Our next exchange for the Fall opens up September 23rd. Sign-up information will be posted on that date so check back for more then!

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bella-caecilia · 4 months

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My contribution to the Cobert Winter Fanfic Exchange 2023. My prompts were tryst / "I needed this, needed you." Genre: smut

Set somewhere around S1 in the summertime, Robert plans to take Cora out on a special rendezvous while she hopes for more than just a sweet, innocent time together. Somehow they end up in a very improper situation under the stars.

"It was not planned, and still, Cora had sensed from the start that this outcome had been inevitable. It was just one of the days she needed him more than was reasonable. She needed him, and luckily, he was there for her."

If you want to read it on AO3, the link is here.

#cobert winter fanfic exchange 2023 #cobert fanfiction #cobert #cora crawley #robert crawley #cobert smut #terrific fun #s1 #downton abbey fanfiction #downton abbey #don't mind me submitting a fic set in summer for our winter fanfic exchange

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musketeergarrison · 11 months

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Summer 23 Fic Exchange Assignments

Are go!

All the participants have been sent their emails about this, so if you’re seeing this and thinking “What email?” then please check your spam or send us a message asking for us to send the details to you via tumblr chat or similar.

We’re very excited and it’s not even July yet, let alone 24th!

#Musketeer Garrison Fic Exchange Summer 2023 #musketeers #the musketeers #bbc musketeers #the musketeers bbc #bbc the musketeers #fanfic #fanfiction #fic exchange #fic exchange 2023 #we are the garrison #The Garrison: The Challenge #the garrison server #mod anima

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lam-ila · 10 months

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heyy, your fic is posted! you should see it in ur mentions <3

omw to read it!!

#summer fic exchange 2023 anon #maleeha answers asks

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youkissedareaderinthedark · 6 months

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Coraline

Synopsis: Y/n’s childhood and history with her parents has always stayed a secret, and she likes it that way. Until a journalist reveals the truth, and everything seems to come crashing down at once.

young female driver reader x 2023 F1 grid

A/N: a few things for this fic: reader will be 20 years old, had driven for alpha tauri since the beginning of 2022, the 2022 is the same as the 2023 grid, and please look at the trigger warning below.

Trigger Warning: This fic contains abusive parents, talks of eating disorders, neglecting a kid, verbally abusing a kid, signs of depression, and a lot of hurtful comments in general. This fic is not meant to idolize or romanticize having abusive parents or depression. If anyone finds anything particularly disturbing with this fic, do not hesitate to let me know and I will fix it.

tagged: @treehouse-mouse

2023 was supposed to be a good season for Alpha Tauri. The cars looked good, your driver pairing was solid, and the hopes were high for your junior Red Bull team. You could only laugh at the naivety of it now.

Most of the season was exceptional; you and Yuki Tsunoda brought in points almost every weekend, your team was seventh in the constructors championship, and overall, you were having a great time traveling around the world.

This was your second year in Formula 1, and now that you weren’t a rookie anymore, you could have more fun now that you knew what you were doing.

Some people just don’t like others being happy, though.

With less than 10 races left, you walked into the paddock for the Monza Grand Prix Thursday afternoon feeling optimistic. This was the second race after the summer break, and Alpha Tauri was expected to do well in Italy.

Your press officer, Ally, greeted you in your garage, and after saying hello to Yuki, you followed her out of the garage and into the media pen for a press conference.

You walk in to see Lewis, Carlos, Lando, and Fernando and talked quietly with them as the press in front of you get settled. “Everybody ready? All right, first question please” One of the directors asks, as a journalists speaks up.

“Lewis, you’ve witnessed the infamous ‘Monza Curse’ multiple times in your career, do you think the theory is true and will it strike again this year?”

“Um, no” Lewis chuckles. “I don’t believe in the curse, but it would be nice to see someone new finish first today, and if a curse is what it’s going to take, then yeah, why not”

The five of you laugh, not noticing the second journalist beginning to speak. “Y/n, what do you have to say about the recent article published regarding your past with your family?”

You instantly stop laughing, hoping you misheard the man.

“Sorry?”

There’s no way

“The article? That was recently published concerning your past with your parents, what do you have to say about it?” The journalist stared at you curiously while your mind blanked for an answer.

You had no idea what article he was talking about, but if it concerned your past with your ‘family’, you knew it wasn’t anything that should be published.

Suddenly there’s movement in the midst of the media pen, and your press officer emerges from the crowd. “Y/n, come with me” She pauses, seeing one of the directors nearing out of the corner of her eye.

“It’s urgent, I need her” You’d take any excuse to get away from the current situation, so after exchanging a look with Lewis, you follow the woman into the paddock towards your garage.

Once you were both in the safety of your drivers room, you turned on her. “What article is he talking about? What’s going on?” You said, voice heavy with concern.

Ally hesitated, looking uncomfortable, before answering. “This morning, an article published a story talking about you and your parents, and the-um, harsh history you have with them” She hands you her phone, said article already open.

“I think it’s better if you read it yourself” The bold letters blink up at you, clear and sullen.

“F1 DRIVERS UNCOVERED: THE REAL REASON WE DON’T SEE Y/N L/N’S PARENTS”

Your heart falls to your stomach and your hands start to shake as your eyes skim over the words of the most invading and overwhelming article you’ve ever read in your life. Whoever wrote this, wrote it in hopes of exposing every secret of your past, and further tangles the truth of an already over-complicated background.

The real reason your parents are never around you is a reason you hate talking about.

You first realized it when you were around ten years old, the way your parents never looked happy around each other, and always tense around other parents. The way they never said ‘I love you’ or kissed each other goodbye. It confused you, as these were the things you always saw your friend’s parents do, but you were too young to understand at the time, so you mainly ignored it.

It wasn’t until one night when you were eleven that you heard an argument erupting from your kitchen, one about money and divorces and you. The shouting continued for ages, until you heard one statement, loud and clear.

“Think about this, she’s getting good in those karting competitions of hers, and according to other parents she could go really far in this thing and get money from sponsorships and mentors. So let’s just give it a little time, make sure she gets better and gets paid, and the money will go to us and eventually she’ll leave to Formula- whatever and we won’t have to worry about her”

You put your pillow over your head, turned around, and went to sleep sobbing that night.

From then on, there was no ‘I love you’s’ or kisses goodbye even to you, and eventually, no happiness in your house. The ‘other parents’ were right, the older you got, the farther you looked to go in racing. Just before you turned 13, the three of you moved to a city in England so you could pursue karting further, and that’s when it all got worse.

You competed in countless competitions, and every race you won, the more criticism you got from your mom and dad. The second you stepped off the 1st place podium, your parents were waiting to comment on your driving and the techniques you should’ve used to win.

They never let you focus on anything but karting, letting you go nowhere but the track and to school, and made sure you were always looking for ways to get better. They ruthlessly compared you to kids in other series that were performing better than you, and countered every compliment someone gave you with a complaint.

All of this seemed like a dream compared to the treatment you got when you lost. Whether it be second, or tenth, every race you didn’t come first in was a loss, and your parents simply didn’t accept this.

When you lost, they’d make you practice on track for twice as long, no matter the weather, and berated you the second you started to complain. They limited your diet after your losses, claiming you needed to be lighter if you wanted the kart to go faster.

Your mother and father gave you this relentless attention with anything regarding racing, but the moment the topic drifted, you were neglected. There were no family dinners or movie nights, if you wanted something, you were going to have to buy it with your own money, and if you wanted to go somewhere, you needed to walk or find a ride because they refused to drive you anywhere if it wasn’t for a race.

There was no other family to go to even when things go impossibly rougher; you had no other relatives in the UK, and you couldn’t exactly ask your friends if you could live with them.

So you endured these conditions, all the way through the F4 British Championship, F3 and F2. You turned 18 while you were in Formula 2, and the second you did, you took the little money you had, and rented an apartment in South England, where you’ve been living ever since.

Your parents constantly contacted you in whatever ways they could, but you very quickly made sure they didn’t know where you lived and were never given paddock passes again. No one knows any of this anyway; when people ask where your parents are or when they’d get to meet them, you just shrug and say, “they couldn’t make it”

You haven’t seen your parents in person since you were 17, and you’ve done everything in your power to keep it like that.

Though with a few thousand words and 4 hours, one nosy journalist has managed to unravel all your work and growth and release it into the world.

You’re broken out of your stunned silence when Ally puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve set up a meeting with Alpha Tauri and Red Bull’s PR managers so we could figure out what we should do next to keep the press off your back, okay? The meeting’s in fifteen meetings, so I’ll leave you for a while”

Ally takes her phone back and exits the room to leave you standing still in the middle of it, astonished and speechless.

The meeting goes as well as you expected it to go. You shared as much as the truth as you saw fit, and came up with a statement to post with the rest of the PR managers. You were confirmed to go back to the media pen to finish interviews an hour later, and while no one asked you about the article, you could tell it was the unanswered question they all wanted to raise.

You are able to avoid most of the press of the remaining of the Italian weekend, and stuck to answering race-related questions only, your safest and only option, Ally told you later. You finished the Grand Prix P10, and flew home still sullen.

You spent the two weeks in between Monza and Japan in your apartment, regretfully thinking about all those years you had to spend under your parent’s treatment, and trying to forget them with simulator work.

You arrive in Suzuka, quiet and unsmiling, and try to ignore the shouting of the press that greets you on your way into the paddock. Ally guides you away as two new voices greet you.

“Hey Y/n, how are you?” Lewis asks, pulling you into a side hug and stepping into place beside you.

“Are you okay? You seem off” Charles says concerned, meeting you in a handshake.

“I’m fine, my flight just got in late last night so I’m tired, that’s all” You half smiled in response, hoping it was believable enough.

“Sure?” Lewis presses father. “Yeah, I’m okay” You nod.

“Okay, well, we’re still going into the city after media today?” Lewis asks. “Of course, I’ll meet you guys at my hotel after” You assure as you near the Alpha Tauri garage.

“See you then, and try to sleep a bit, yes?” Charles says before the two men walk off together.

Your friendship with the two drivers started because of the Spanish and British Grand Prix’s, the two races that gave you your two highest race finishes, and ended with two of your closest friends. Spain was a great race for both you and Lewis, yourself in P4, him in P2, and after non-stop talking in the paddock, you flew back to the UK together, effectively starting the friendship existing today.

You’d been friendly with Charles previously, but after his P9 finish in Silverstone and your P5 finish, he realized in a conversation before an interview that you were undeniably good at cheering people up, and you guys have been close since.

You’ve talked with them since Monza, of course, but not about the article. They want to talk to you about it, you can tell, but Charles and Lewis aren’t the type of people to just come right out and ask if you’re feeling okay about your history with your abusive parents being exposed to the world.

They also don’t want to pressure you into talking about something you clearly don’t want to talk about, so if all they can do is help distract you from the media, they’re going to.

Your night out with the Mercedes and Ferrari drivers does distract you; Lewis leads you and Charles to different shops and restaurants all over Suzuka, talking and laughing the entire time. You take a few photos along the way, and you go back to your hotel still smiling.

You kept your good mood until qualifying on Saturday, and are brought back into the reality of racing when you only manage P11. It’s technically not bad of a result for your car, but P9 or P8 would’ve been better right now, because all you can think about is what your parents would’ve said if you finished P11.

They’re paying you millions of dollars to race for them and the best you can do is eleventh?

You think you deserve to be here?

They are hundreds of other drivers that would do so much better than you

You are nothing compared to the other drivers

You’re lucky if you keep you seat next season, I know I wouldn’t let a P11 driver on my team

You go quiet at the thought, and get through post-race media stoic. You leave with your trainer as soon as you can, avoiding Lewis and Charles’s eyes on your way out. You have a week before you have to leave for Qatar, and spend a countless amount of hours on your simulator, hoping this time it’ll make a difference.

You flew into Lusail not knowing what to expect other than hot weather, and unfortunately you were right. You felt the heat as soon as you got in your car for FP1 on Friday and was already dreading the rest of the weekend.

You qualify P11 for both the race and the sprint, and end up in P12 for the two. You felt terrible after Sunday’s race, both physically and mentally, and you’re already berating yourself for your performance by the time you get weighed.

Charles and Lewis are in your post-race press conference group, and you can see them exchange a look after every cold and detached answer you give. You only stop to talk to your friends for a few minutes afterwards before you excuse yourself to go cool down, and leave minutes later with the defense of needing rest.

You fly back to the UK with Lewis, and you’re glad the two of you are asleep for most of the trip so Lewis won’t ask you to talk about why you’ve been so quiet.

The 10 days you have until you fly out to Austin are spent mostly on your phone, looking at all the comments people have been making about you since the article came out, saying how you probably deserved the treatment that you got, and how Alpha Tauri needs a more “stable” driver if they want to advance in the championship.

You don’t do much except exercise and train on the sim in those days, finding neither the desire or energy to do anything else.

Even though everyone is happy to be in Texas that week, you can’t find the energy to truly smile once that weekend. Charles and Lewis are practically stuck to your side, and even though you can tell they’re dying to ask you to talk about it, they only ask a few times if you wanted to tell them something, and when you denied, and simply offered companionship through silence.

It’s another sprint race, and you only pull off P12 and 13 for qualifying and the shootout, and drop a place by the end of both races.

You feel more frustrated with yourself than ever; you don’t understand why you can’t work with the car like you once used to, and you can’t even figure out how to again. You were doing so well until that fucking article came out, and all the sudden you don’t know how to drive.

The worst part about it is that every race, more and more people are realizing how you’ve been under-performing, and how people are starting to question your ability to drive for the junior Red Bull team.

You aren’t stupid, you know how things work at Red Bull, so you know that if you don’t pick your pace up soon, you could end up without a seat for the 2024 season.

This thought alone starts to destroy you, and soon you can’t even deny how burnt out you are. You pick up on the forced habit of not eating much, and making yourself to do nothing but train and look for ways to be better.

You spend the days before Mexico with data analysts and strategists, looking for any and every way to go faster. You dedicate too much time looking at successful F2 drivers, hearing Liam Lawson’s name come up too much for comfort, thinking about how Dennis Hauger had been looking fast in F2.

It’s a terribly unhealthy time killer, one that makes you look sick and go quiet. Charles and Lewis aren’t the only ones exchanging concerned looks now; multiple other drivers on the grid, friends with you or not, notice the change in your behavior and quickly grow worried when they hear Yuki’s description of you.

The drivers aren’t stupid either, they all know about the article that was published in September, and most of them would be lying if they said they hadn’t looked at it in curiosity. They’d also be lying if they saw their eyes didn’t widen in concern or eyebrows didn’t furrow with worry when they read how terrible your parents treated you.

The grid saw how the comments got nastier and nastier under your lessening social media posts every day, and even asked your PR officer multiple times to make sure she was managing your accounts and making sure you didn’t see what people had to say about your background or yourself.

They saw how you got quieter every race, how you stopped hanging out with Yuki and Charles and Lewis, no matter how many times they offered. They saw the rumors of you and your 2024 seat, how apparently Helmut Marko was paying close attention to you and the clauses in your contract.

They asked a lot, if you wanted to talk or if they could help in any way. It was always the same response; a weary smile, a small shake of the head, the words,“No, I’m fine, just tired” and an excuse that you were needed in your garage or media pen.

So they try to help in more discreet ways; when Yuki is asked about your position on Alpha Tauri or your future with Red Bull, he calmly assures that you are working hard with the team, and is doing everything possible to understand the car.

Charles, Lewis, and a few other drivers make a routine of coming to your driver’s room, most of the time just to sit with you as you look at data, or talk with you when you’re feeling up to it.

Mexico goes somehow worse than Texas, and you finish with your lowest result in F1 yet, P15. You try to be as approachable as possible in post-race media, but your sullen face gives you away.

You leave with Ally and your trainer to catch your flight to Brazil mere hours after you passed the checkered flag, and spend most of your time in Sau Paulo alone in your hotel room, replaying every hurtful comment either your mother and father or fans have said about you, and debating whether or not it was true.

You walk into the Brazilian paddock Thursday morning more grateful than you thought possible that this was the third-to-last race of your season.

And according to over twenty media sources, your third-to last race of F1.

After a public statement made by Marko talking about how Red Bull was “considering your future with their junior team” every journalist in the F1 community has decided that it means this was your last season in F1.

And honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Whether you raced in 2024 or not, you just wanted to go home and avoid the press for three months.

It was another sprint weekend, and another terrible qualifying and shootout. You placed 15th in both sessions and kept your place in the sprint, and spent a quiet Saturday evening in your hotel.

You could feel almost every journalists eye’s turn to you as soon as you walked into the paddock on Sunday. You arrived early that afternoon to get some extra data-stuff done, only now realizing that it gave the growing group of reporters behind you more time to ask you questions.

“Y/n! Can you tell us about your future in F1?”

“Will you have a seat next year?

“Y/n, what does Helmut Marko think about your decrease in performance?”

“Does your past with your parents have anything to do with your recent race results?”

You try to keep your face emotionless as you make your way into the Alpha Tauri garage and to your drivers room. You prepare for the race with your personal trainer and look over the arranged strategies for Sau Paulo while you wait for the go-ahead to get in your car.

Due to all the crashed-out cars, you ended the race in P12 in front of Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo. Statistically speaking, it was one of your better 2023 races, but everyone knows if it wasn’t for all the DNF’s, you’d finish in the bottom five.

You know that everyone knows this because just before you walked into the media pen after your race debrief, you saw Christian Horner and Marko speaking to your team principle, and after Yuki’s P9 finish today, it didn’t take you even a second to understand who they were talking about with disappointed faces and multiple shakes of the head.

Sure, this could mean nothing. This could just be a conversation between the three people that control the top team and it’s junior team. But you also like to think you’re a bit smarter than that.

You walked deeper into the crowded area before the three could see you, and walked to the first open journalist you saw, in hopes of leaving early.

“Y/n, hi! Not too bad of a race for you today, I guess?” The man asked, pointing his microphone towards you

“Yeah, not too bad. The car felt pretty okay and there was a bit of pace, but not enough to overtake or anything, clearly” You reply.

“Can we expect more race pace from you in Las and Vegas and Abu Dhabi?”

“I mean, it’s a bit too early to tell, but we’ll hope and see what comes out out of the practices” The man nods before looking down at his notebook.

“And your seat for Alpha Tauri next year, we know you’re apart of the confirmed driver lineup for 2024 but Helmut Marko states that there are attainable clauses in your contract, what do you think about that?”

You’re caught off guard by the question, but right when you’re about to respond, the man continues.

“Surely, Alpha Tauri isn’t really considering keeping you for next season, are they?”

You’re standing in front of the man speechless now, your brain barely comprehending what’s being spoken.

“Because I know the last thing a team wants is an incapable driver that is too emotionally effected by her “traumatic” childhood to race,” the volume of his voice starts to increase, and other drivers are starting to focus on your one-sided conversation.

“I mean, c’mon, no one even believes that even happened to you, and if it did, your parents were probably right for doing it-”

Your hands are shaking, eyes are wide with shock, body suddenly freezing, and you don’t even think you’re breathing. All you can do is listen as this man goes on and on about how you’re a shitty driver and deserved how your parents treated you.

You’re only broken out of your trance when an arm clad in red wraps around your shoulders and pulls you through the paddock. You’re not even aware of the yelling from a certain Mercedes drivers gets quieter and quieter as you’re brought into your driver’s room.

You’re being sat on a couch, and suddenly Charles Leclerc’s face is right in front of you, hands on your shoulders and eyes filled with concerned. “Y/n? Y/n, look at me, please, Y/n-” Your eyes dart to him and in an instant, everything from the past five minutes comes rushing through your head, and you can’t stop the tears that start to fall down your face.

“Oh, Y/n” The Ferrari driver moves to comfort you, but stops as you begin to cover your face and move away.

“No, Y/n, it’s okay, please, let me help you, Y/n” Charles wraps his arms around you in a hug as your body begins to shake with uncontrollable sobs.

“I can’t- I can’t do this anymore, Charles” You say in between breaths.

“I have to quit or something, I can’t keep doing this Charles, I can’t” You let your head fall on his shoulder, as the man tries to calm you down.

Charles’ heart is breaking as he comforts his friend; he remembers loving his first few years in Formula 1, how everything was so new and exciting to him, he could never not want to race, not then and not now. But to hear one of his closest friends breakdown because of how much she hates being there, makes the man’s heart shatter.

The door abruptly opens, and for a moment, all you can hear is the low angry cursing of Lewis Hamilton, until he sees you and Charles, and his face immediately softens.

“Love, I’m so sorry. That guy is a complete arsehole, don’t listen to him” The British man says as he takes a seat beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, I feel so stuck in this place where everyone is always talking about what happened and I don’t know how much longer I can go through it” You say, your voice breaking off with another sob.

Charles hushes you once more, exchanging a worried look with Lewis as you pull away from him again. “I’m sorry, I know I should be doing better and everything but I just can’t-” You say, voice shaky through the tears.

“Don’t for one second be sorry that you’re not competitive right now. Y/n, thousands of people are talking about the one thing that hurt you the most, and I understand why you feel this way, just please, love, for your own good, let us help you. I promise it will make you feel better” Lewis assures, grabbing your hand.

So for the first time, you do. For over an hour, you tell Charles and Lewis everything that happened when you were younger, and how the article has made you feel since then. They listen quietly, nodding once in a while to let you know they understand, and gave you a hug when you stopped talking.

“Do you feel better now?” Lewis asks.

“Yeah, not entirely, but better”

“Good, that’s all I wanted to hear,”

“Are you ready to go home now? There’s a plane waiting for us, if you want”

“Definitely. I need to go home” You say as Charles helps pack up all your things and Lewis makes sure there’s a car waiting for you two outside. As you’re all walking through the nearly-empty paddock, Charles turns to you.

“I have to go back to my garage, but please Y/n, if you ever need to talk, call me? I want to help you, I don’t want to see you like this again” The Monegasque brings you into a hug.

“I know, Charles, I will” You promise.

“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas, yes? Feel better!” He calls as he moves backwards and further into the paddock.

“You promise?”

Lewis asks you hours later in the front of the airport in England, just about to get into separate cars.

“Yes, Lewis, I’ll call when I need” You say to the older man in a hug.

“Alright, text me when you’ve made it home and make sure you get some rest. Don’t be too hard on yourself either, you don’t give yourself enough credit for everything you do” You smile at him.

“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas?”

“See you before Vegas!” He shouts from his already-closed car door.

When you do see the two next, they make sure you’ve made an appointment with a therapist and are setting up a meeting with your PR manager to put together a statement in regards to your well-being the past two months.

Charles and Lewis make sure the media inside the paddock is severely monitored and checked before being allowed near the drivers, and help you fall back into healthier habits.

These changes don’t happen overnight, and they don’t take affect overnight, but you do use the winter off season to make sure these changes are helpful and working.

The three month break is utilized to mentally and physically prepare yorself in time for your 2024 seat at Alpha Tauri that was re-confirmed after your P8 finishes in Las Vegas and Abu Dhabi.

The media still knows everything, and you haven’t completely forgotten your childhood, you never will, but dealing with it still gets easier.

#formula 1 #reader insert #driver reader #f1 grid x reader #formula 1 driver imagines #platonic f1 grid #f1 2023 grid x y/n #f1 imagine #female driver reader #comfort fic #angst with a happy ending #angst #please look at trigger warning before you read #lewis hamilton #charles lecrelc #platonic lewis hamilton #platonic charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader

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offside-the-lines · 3 months

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tell me who i run to (if not you) | anthony beauvillier

"The first sip is joy, the second is gladness, the third is serenity, the fourth is madness, the fifth is ecstasy." - Jack Kerouac

Summary In July of 2023, Evie looked at a list of cities in North America and rolled a die. Just like that, she packed up her life and moved to Chicago, a fresh start. The 2023-24 NHL season started well for Tito; he did not expect the call on November 28th telling him that he was being traded. To the worst team in the league. And just like that. 10 months after being ripped from his home, he had to pack up and move again. To an unfamiliar city, and to unfamiliar faces. Which is why, when Tito and Evie ran into each other, quite literally, on Christmas morning, they both latched on to a familiar face. Over the next few months, they became close friends. They didn’t talk about the nights shared in Chicago clubs. They didn’t need to. Because they're just friends. Right?

This is a completed fic split into episodes for easier reading. It was written for @bqstqnbruin as part of the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston.

Episode 1. Blue Christmas (4.9k) Episode 2. I. Winter (4.4k) Episode 3. Pal-entine's Day (4.8k) Episode 4. Four-leaf Clover (5.5k) Episode 5. Evie's Birthday 🌶️ (5.6k) Episode 6. II. Spring (4.8k) Episode 7. Not Goodbye 🌶️🌶️ (5.4k) Episode 8. III. Summer (4.8k) Episode 9. Tito's Birthday (4.2k)

Read it in full (44.5k)

🎵 Series Playlist 🎶

Requests (open) | Masterlist & Who I Write For | Join My Taglist

Under the cut: author's notes, tropes, warnings & disclaimer, fun tidbits, chapter summaries

Author's Notes: This fic was written for @bqstqnbruin as part of the Winter Fic Exchange 2k24 hosted by @wyattjohnston. It got so out of control long so quickly. I genuinely had so much fun writing this, it's basically my magnum opus; if you look closely, I think you can probably see my soul in there somewhere. I would like to thank @devilssacrament, @wyattjohnston, and @forgottenflowers for being my editors, holding my hand and keeping me sane in this. Also, thanks to @swissboyhisch, and @imperatorrrrr for being a sounding board for ideas . All of your help and support has meant so much to me. You are all just the fucking best, I am sorry this has been my entire personality for the past month, I will probably return to normal soon. Probably...

Tropes: a gut-wrenching mix of angst and fluff with a happy ending, slow burn friends to lover (tbh, idiots to lovers let's be real), alternating POVs

Warnings: alcohol (one instance of alcohol poisoning by side character), mature content bordering on smut (mostly occurring in clubs/public), references to a toxic past relationship. Disclaimer: This series is set in Chicago but does not mention the name of the team based there. Only other Chicago players mentioned by name are: Nick Foligno, Jason Dickinson and Connor Bedard. Other notes: NHL players featured Mat Barzal (a heavily featured supporting character/bestie) and brief mentions of Zach Hyman and Matt Martin. Assume that Tito and Evie are always speaking in French with each other.

Face claim for Evie (if you want one, but you can imagine whoever you like): Adeline Rudolph

Fun Tidbits: Original Character (she/her) called Genevieve Gignac or Evie (pronounced eh-vee) is the oldest sibling of Tito's juniors teammate and friend Brandon Gignac. Along with their other sibling Wiliam, they grew up in Montreal. Evie had been living in Toronto for six years, before moving to Chicago in the summer before the fic starts. I did way too much research so a lot of the little facts are true. Nicknames: (ma) chouette (shoo-wet): owl (mon) chou/chouchou (shoo): in practice, honey, sugar, baby, sweetheart // by definition, my cabbage or my profiterole/cream puff (depends who you ask) Solours (soul-oars): the Québécois name for the yellow Care Bear with the smiling sun on its belly Solou’ (soul-oo): a diminutive Evie decides to use

Cook, Cook, drink your tea, But save some in the pot for me. We'll watch the tea leaves in our cup When our drink is all sipped up. Happiness or fortune great, What will our future be? -- "Afternoon Tea at Pittock Mansion" by R.Z. Berry

Episode Synopses:

Blue Christmas Evie and Tito are both starting life anew in Chicago. It's an unfamiliar city with unfamiliar faces. They're both alone on Christmas. Maybe it's fate that brings them together. Jason and Alandra Dickinson are already smelling smoke from this fire.

I. Winter Tito injures his wrist in the first game of 2024, he’s out for 6-8 weeks and then his car breaks down. He thinks maybe he’s cursed. Evie becomes a shoulder to lean on. Barzy gets suspicious.

Pal-entine’s Day Tito returns her kindness by being a shoulder Evie can lean on when she is having a hard time after all-star break. She tells him it’s anxiety about work. He brings her a box of pastries and they cuddle on the couch all day; he doesn’t realize it’s Valentine’s Day. Later, a hook-up goes very wrong.

Four-leaf Clover Tito’s been playing again, and during his first stretch of away games begins to miss home. Well, Evie’s home anyway. When he sees her in the bar, he can’t help but show it. Barzy calls him out on his lies.

Evie’s Birthday Sometimes the music moves you. Sometimes the bass pounding in your chest makes you do things you wouldn’t do. Fuck it, it’s your birthday. That’s what Evie tells herself anyway. There are gifts given, but there are also secrets kept.

II. Spring Tito tries to tell her— he does— It’s just he needs to find the right time, and something keeps coming up. Evie’s honest with herself. But does that even matter? Mat decides maybe it is his time to intervene.

Not Goodbye Evie realizes that her time is running out. To do what? She doesn’t know. But she has one last night to find out. That is until— Well. It’s too late now. Tito flies home and wonders if that will be the worst mistake of his life.

III. Summer They try to get on with their summers as if nothing is wrong, convincing no one. How long will it take them to realize they can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine? And who will finally take the leap of faith?

Tito’s Birthday Tito receives the best birthday present he has ever gotten: the girl he loves standing at his parent’s front door. It was never destiny or fate; it can only be by choice. And they’ll choose each other every time. Eventually, anyway.

Requests (open) | Masterlist & Who I Write For | Join My Taglist

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mrsmarinara · 11 months

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Summerfest 2023

Jack Hughes x reader

I usually write stories and longer fics on my main blog but I thought I’d give this a shot. I finally looked up summerfest tickets and that inspired this.

Y/nusername

Liked by trevorzegras, Elblue6, jackhughes and 25,076 others

Y/nusername: Drove a little further right this summer and ended up at Summerfest. Is it even a good summer without good music, humid weather and getting drunk friends? 🎶 🍻

jackhughes the best summers are the ones I get to spend with you ❤️

Y/nusername and I didn’t even have to tell you to say that. Aww 🥰 I love you babes 😘

trevorzegras I’m gonna barf 🤢

y/nusername don’t be salty just because you weren’t here

trevorzegras it wouldn’t have hurt anyone to at least invite me!!

jackhughes your invite probably got lost like the one you sent me for Coachella

trevorzegras …now who’s salty 🧂

Elblue6 Looks like you guys had a lot of fun. I can’t wait to see you all in a week.

y/nusername I’m counting down the days!

_quinnhughes idk it’s pretty chill here without Jack and his friends

y/nusername pretend all you like but I know you love me

_quinnhughes @/y/nusername it’s true I’ve petitioned to make you a permanent member of the family in exchange for getting rid of Jack

jackhughes I always knew you were plotting to get rid of me @_quinnhughes

_quinnhughes how’d you know? @/jackhughes

jackhughes Winter of ‘09 when you pushed me into a freezing lake kinda gave me an idea

lhughes_06 or Jack could just nut up and propose and we could have both of them forever.

Liked by y/nusername

User1 is it just me or did Jack get awfully quiet

User2 with all the country artists that play at summerfest I’m surprised Jack hasn’t been before

ryleigh_white still sad Dawson and I couldn’t make it but that video you sent of Noah Kahan will sustain me for a life time

y/nusername I hope one song came through clear and without me screaming over it

_alexturcotte I vote we do this every summer

trevorzegras “we”???

y/nusername 🧂

jackhughes 🧂

Ybf/username 🧂

jackhughes

Liked by y/nusername, _alexturcotte, lhughes_06, and 43,674 others

jackhughes maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea

y/nusername so you admit I was right? Going to Summerfest was a good idea?

jackhughes I feel like if I say yes you’ll hold it over my head forever

y/nusername I would never. You wound me.

lhughes_06 smells like a lie 🤥

y/nusername @/lhughes_06 we still have to drive back to Michigan. Don’t think I won’t leave you stranded on some farm land.

lhughes_06 you wouldn’t @y/nusername

y/nusername try me moosey 😈

nicohischier we had a great season you deserve to have a good summer

jackhughes thanks cap. Will do.🫡

trevorzegras and here I was worried that @y/nusername was gonna take my place but now I gotta worry about @/_alexturcotte

y/nusername @/trevorzegras honestly I’d call you jealous but that little hussy has a picture before me. @/jackhughes explain yourself.

jackhughes i… 🏃💨

_alexturcotte Alexa play Pretty Girl Rock 🎶

colecaufield the fact that I’m not getting 📸 cred on that last picture should be a federal offense

y/nusername it’s a lovely picture @/colecaufield thx ☺️

jackhughes don’t be cocky @/colecaufield

dawson1417 I would say I wish I had been there but I just know that Jack and y/n were probably sucking face the whole time

lhughes_06 forget being attached at the hip they’re attached by the lips

y/nusername 💋

Upload more comments

#Sunny’s insta edits #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes insta edit #nhl imagine #jack hughes imagine #🏒insta au #jack hughes blurb #my writing

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fractualized · 4 months

Text

2023 Batjokes Secret Santa Round-Up

Happy holidays! Big thanks to everyone who participated in the exchange this year. Gifts are listed below, split between art and fic, and SFW and NSFW. (Most art titles are unofficial, just text for me to link.)

90% of the gifts are batjokes; nonbatjokes are at the end of each section. I’ve included some other notes and warnings with the links, but as usual it’s on you to check fic tags.

🎄 SFW Art

Summer Selfie [Lego Batman] by arcthie

Lego Meme/Holiday Wrapping/Shark Repellent [Lego Batman, DOTF] by batjokestm

Joker by botoartist

Destined Dance [Telltale] by chokit-pyrus

Team-Up Selfie by clownedcrime

Under the Mistletoe by flurpyz

Gentleman's Arrest by the-hopeless-fanboy

Caught in the Spotlight by kitty-cat-boi

Partners [Telltale] by Koda

Christmas Sweaters [Batman '66] by garrett-strangelove

Cozy Christmas Evening [Telltale] by maple-chuu

Christmas Headgear [Telltale] by m-e-f-y

Rooftop Dance by metionohre

Caught by pipermint8magic

The Joke's On You [Batman '66] by Nex

His Bat and His Clown by occultkings

Playing Cards by pinkopalina

Keeping A Promise by powrbottomjoker

Visiting Room by riddlekid

I Won't Tell [genderbend] by Star

Loving Embrace [TDKR] by stewbud

Snow Globe [Telltale] by stryx123

Knife Dance [BTAS] by vongeist

Eye to Eye [riddlebird] by foolcunting

The Heart Outweighs All [twiddler, mild gore] by Ingo

Well-Trained [Punchline/James Jr] by venombiote

Wallypillar [Welcome Home] by marxtheimpish

Octogoblin Christmas [Spider-Man] by moxis

🎁 SFW Fic

Normal People Things (Rated Mature) by bang-the-smoke

once isn't enough (Rated Mature) by batsyjokes

This Strange Effect (Rated Explicit, but not in chapter 1) by battybrownboo

A Fine Addition To My Collection (Rated Teen and Up) by darkpurpledawn

What to Get for the Man Who Has Everything (Rated Teen and Up) by faygomonkey

kiss me (you animal) (Rated Teen and Up) by luxamea

That Deathless Death (Rated Mature; vampire Bruce) by superherogrl

I’ll Be Your Mirror [Breaking Bad; Mike/Jesse] (Rated Mature) by TheDykeKnight

🎅 NSFW Art

Hello Nurse [bondage] by drones-art

Lazy Morning Breakfast [pregnant Joker] by Emilia

Santa Lingerie by K

Tunnel of Love [TDKR] by Mara's shelter

Threshold by razzbatty

Men of Science [extremely dubious consent, Arkham staff] by Ring

⛄ NSFW Fic

let our bodies be awoken (Rated Explicit; zombies) by distortopia

I want to make you proud and play with your head (Rated Explicit; AU) by fractualized

If I missed your gift, let me know and I’ll add it.

Happy Holidays!

#batjokes #BatjokesSanta #BatjokesSanta_nsfw #fan art #fanfic #secret santa #xmas

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aftgficrec · 6 months

Note

ah I'm so excited you're open!!! thank you for the ridiculous amount of work you all do 🙏ok, this might be too specific but any fics with an alternate take on Andrew and Neil's post-trk reunion? Andrew gets out of easthaven early, Neil leaves the Nest later, AU's, etc.? i think it's a really interesting point in their dynamic, and I'm a sucker for sober Andrew realizing someone was watching his back for once

Feeling a bit like a Bernie Sanders’ meme – ‘I am once again asking myself why I spent so much time on an ask,’ 😅 but it's because this is such an iconic and beloved scene for our fandom. For a super fun ‘live’ first-time reader reaction to this high drama, check out ‘The King’s Men, Chapter 1 – Hello Foxhole, My Old Friend’ by @nickireadstfc here. -A

also see

Andrew's POV of throwing keys off roof here

‘Come and Save Me From It’ here (completed)

‘Learning To Feel (When You've Forgotten How)’ and the fandom meta posts here

‘pipedream’ here

‘reaching for the heights’ here

‘Lost boy’ and ‘[Un]broken’ here

‘I Know You From A Nightmare,’ ‘The Marks We Make,’ and ‘Draw Me Out, Mark Me In’ here

‘Marked’ and ‘Soulmates who can feel each other’s pain’ here

‘Of Stars and Stories’ here

‘What’s normal now?’ here

long previous recs with reunion mention

‘No More Fucks To Give’ here (updated)

‘The Sphynx and the Hare’ here (completed)

‘corvus, vulpes, lupus’ here

‘never fallen (from quite this high)’ here

‘Not a Pipe Dream’ here

‘everything and nothing begins with you’ here

Andrew gets sober, Neil stays at Evermore

‘Oh Raven,’ ‘Jailbird,’ and ‘Take to the Wing’ here

‘Scared to Live (But I'm Scared to Die)’ here

‘Comeback’ here

you may also like

in the dream I don't tell anyone (you put your head in my lap) by Fortheloveofexy [Rated T, 1850 Words, Complete, 2022, Locked]

The real Neil would never allow this, would not let himself be this vulnerable. The real Neil can barely stand to be around him. Andrew knows this. But Dream Neil? Dream Neil is a different story.

Will you be there when I come back? by Shamman [Not Rated, 299 Words, Complete, 2017]

Andrew is trapped in Easthaven with an eidetic memory and tries to focus his thoughts on the confusing image of Neil Josten's face. -Because however terrible it may look, Andrew's current circumstances are much less pleasant. Furthermore Bee has been making him sing and play the guitar in a very therapeutic attempt to make him express some sort of actual emotion over the past year.

tw: violent imagery

You Gave Me A Key And Called It Home by glintchi [Rated T, Collection, Complete, 2019]

Chapter 19: Yes, I Admit It, You Were Right [460 Words] Renee was waiting for him in the basement, fingers already taped, hair pulled back into a tuft of a rainbow ponytail.

Foxhole Tidbits by SpangleBangle [Collection Rated T/M, Updated 2018]

Chapter 14: My Friend, O My Friend [M, 953 Words] Prompt for Renee's reaction after Drake/Easthaven and Andrew's return.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: canonical character death

Did You Miss Me? by Deathandcommas [Rated G, 555 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

Aaron and Andrew have a late night chat after Andrew gets back from Easthaven.

tfw spoons by StrawBerryRains [Rated G, 216 Words, Complete, 2021]

Nicky offers Andrew ice cream when they arrive home from Easthaven.

A Taste of Your Own Medicine by caffeine_withdrawl [Rated M, 66454 Words, Incomplete, Updated March 2023]

Set after the infamous Thanksgiving, but then diverges from canon. Andrew and Bee decide it’s time for Andrew to come off the drugs, but works some magic so that he is allowed to do it in Columbia. Neil is tasked with helping him through it. They decide to do it the same way Andrew helped Aaron sober up, by locking him in a bathroom. Andrew doesn't react well, and switches between rage and panic. Andrew wonders if Neil is real or if he made him up because of the drugs.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: body horror, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: flashbacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: drug addiction, tw: withdrawal, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: ptsd, tw: emotional abuse, tw: hallucinations

making it harder to breathe by Azure_Allumiia [Rated T, 1643 Words, Complete, 2021]

Christmas Break with the Foxes, featuring Andrew at Easthaven and Neil in Evermore. Foxes celebrate New Years in NYC with the ball drop.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: rape/noncon, tw: medical abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood

Dead Birds by Noah98 [Rated G, 1601 Words, Complete, 2021, Locked]

Neil just got back from Evermore and Andrew has returned from Easthaven. Riko calls. He wants a rematch and oh boy does he get it.

tw: violence, tw: blood/gore

Art

NB: just a sampling of art for this scene

“Feel Again” original song by @whatbutandreil [Tumblr, 2020]

Picking up Andrew from Easthaven part 1, part 2 comic by @coldcigarettes

andreil keys off the roof scene: animation by @hahanken | comic by @rainbowd00dles | comic by @lunapiq | art by @esklinray

I hate you comic by @thematicallycoherent

I’m not a hallucination art by @clumsyartish

Stick around long enough to figure it out for yourself. edit by @m1nyards

You are a pipe dream art by @viennemort

“you spend all this time watching our backs” edit by @matthcwboyd

not a hallucination a pipe dream art by @kryptidfox

“you were supposed to be a side effect of the drugs.” art by @planetmontressor

"Go inside and leave me alone." art by @dimsunstuff

“No, you’re a pipe dream.” art by @starkingdraws

113 notes · View notes

ilyasorokinn · 11 months

Text

where you lead i will follow , mat barzal

note, hello! here is it! my summer 2023 fic exchange! thank you to @wyattjohnston for putting together another amazing exchange! you are so slay! this fic is for @prettytoxicrevolver! i hope this is as slay as you hoped for and i hope you enjoy! so, i love gilmore girls too, and have a fic inspired by luke and lorelai coming soon, so i instead went with jess and rory because i am a jess girl. if you aren't, argue to a wall cause i don't care. this is loosely based on their relationship, this isn't them. just wanted to clarify. another note, sorry there are a lot of time jumps just cause i'm lazy, but i promise this is still very slay. pair, mat barzal x reader summary, mat barzal is new to town, sort of. a town he didn't want to be in. after not so good press towards the end of the season in new york, during the off-season, the team decides to send him to ivory lake, a small town where his uncle lives, just until everything dies down. the first night he's there, his uncle forces him to go dinner at his not-girlfriend's house. there, he meet's her daughter, and he realizes he has more in common with her than he thinks. warnings, none :) word count, 5175 words (this is longer than i expected lol)

(gif not mine)

As soon as Mat stepped out of the taxi, he knew he would rather be anywhere else, "Mat." His uncle Milo greeted him stiffly as he stepped off the bus.

"Milo." Mat greeted, a flat expression on his face.

"You can call me Uncle Milo, you know." Milo attempted.

"Right." Mat nodded, making his way to the back of the taxi and grabbing all his bags.

"Well, let's get you home." Milo capped his hands and grabbed one of Mat's bags and leading him towards his apartment. Milo set Mat's bags down in the room he had designated as Mat's, "All right, well you get unpacked. My friend Lauren invited us over for dinner tonight."

"And you're telling me why?"

Milo sighed, "Because you're coming along, and you can't say no." Mat sighed, "Oh, and by the way, no one knows who you are here."

"They don't?" Mat asked.

"I don't think anyone in Ivory watches hockey." Milo chuckled, "Anyways, your secret is safe with me." Milo reassured him, then walked down the hall, leaving Mat alone in his new room in a town he didn't know anything about full of people who had no idea who he was or why he was there.

Milo and Mat stood on the Y/L/N doorstep. Milo looked over at Mat, and reached over, fixing his hair, "What the hell, man?" Mat snapped, swatting his hands away.

"Did you even brush your hair?"

"I did, actually."

They both turned to the door when it swung open. Your mom, Lauren, greeted them both with a warm smile, "You must be Mat." Your mom smiled.

"Mat I am." He nodded.

"Huh, he's funny too." Lauren nodded, raising a brow, "Well, come in. Dinner's almost ready." She stepped aside so they could enter.

Mat walked into your small apartment, his eyes going around every corner and looking at every photo on the wall. It was all of you and your mom, most when you were younger but there were a couple that were newer because you both looked a little older.

"Y/N, our guests are here." Your mom hollered down the hallway. You came down the hallway, fixing your necklace.

You smiled, "You must be Mat."

"Yeah." He nodded, moving behind you to get a better look at the racks of CDs you had. You frowned, "These yours?"

"Yeah." You nodded, mirroring his previous actions.

"Wow, The Cranberries and The Jonas Brothers." He nodded, picking up the two very different CDs.

"It's called taste." You grabbed them and set them back in their spots.

"Nah, I'm not judging. I like a girl who can do both." He smirked, picking up another CD and reading the back.

"You listen to music much?" You asked, crossing your arms.

"A little." He shrugged.

"You can borrow that." You told him.

"I'm good." He shrugged.

"Hey, you two, dinner's ready." Your mom popped her head out of the kitchen and into the living room where you two were.

A couple days later, Mat was getting accustomed to life in wherever he was. He didn't know what it was called and he didn't care to know. He had picked up a small cup of ice cream and was walking down the street, heading back to Milo's apartment when he saw you leaving the music store.

You looked up as he approached you," Hey, Mat." You smiled, "How are you liking it here in Ivory?"

"It's small."

"Small."

"Much smaller than where I'm from." He admitted.

"Right." You nodded, narrowing your eyes before clearing your throat, "I should get going. I'll see you around though."

"Wait, I have something for you." He pulled out the CD he had been eying a few days ago.

"Oh, wow, you didn't have to buy it, I offered it to you."

"I know. This is your's." You were stunned.

"Right." You nodded, taking it back from him.

"See you around, Y/N."

"Yeah." You stood in your spot, stunned.

A few days later, all you could think about was Mat. The interaction a few days ago, albeit short, was still on your mind. You were... confused to say the least. He was cold the first time you met, but the second time, things felt different.

"...Now, I don't know if you have anything going on two weeks from Friday, but I sort of signed us up for a dance class." Your mom told you, snapping you out of your daze.

"Dance class?" You asked.

"Yeah."

"Why did you sign us up for a dance class? You can barely tell your right from your left and have awful hand/eye coordination."

"I don't know, I wasn't thinking." Your mom explained, "I panicked. There are a few other ladies at work doing it, so I decided why not?"

"You are insane. When you're sweating and panting, I'll laugh." You leaned back in your seat, shaking your head. The bells above the diner jingled, and you looked up, curious when you heard the diner quiet down.

Living in a small town, everyone knew everyone. It was quite the cliche. So, when news went around that Mat was in town, everyone knew and everyone started gossiping. What did he do that was so bad he had to be sent away? Why was he here?

Mat looked around the diner, taking a deep breath as everyone looked at him like he was a caged animal, "Hey, why don't we tone it down a notch, guys?" Your mom called out, but no one listened to her and continued staring.

"Hey, quit it!" You shouted, and that seemed to snap everyone out of their daze and they all went back to what they were doing. Mat shot you both an appreciative look before going to the counter to order.

As he was leaving, he stopped by your table, "Hey, thanks for that."

"It's no problem." Your mom shrugged it off, "Next time you see creeps look at us, just shout at them for us, then we'll be even." She winked.

Mat nodded with a smile, the first you'd seen from him, "Cool." He nodded, "I'll see you around. Gotta get this back to Milo." He held up his bag of food.

"Oh, yeah. He gets cranky."

"So, I've heard." Mat chuckled, before smiling and giving you a fake salute before walking out the door.

"Y/N, there's someone here for you." Your mom hollered down the hallway.

"Who is it?" You asked.

"You'll just have to see." She winked, making her way down the hallway to her own room and shutting the door.

Your brows furrowed together as you made your way down the hallway to the front door where Mat was waiting in the doorway, "Mat? What're you doing here? Is there a CD you wanna borrow or something?"

"No," He chuckled, "I wanted to apologize. For my behavior the first time we met." You were stunned at his apology and the fact that he even was apologizing.

"Oh..." You didn't know what to say, "Well, thank you. I accept your apology. I get it. If I were new in a small town and were forced to meet new people, I'd probably react the same way."

"That still doesn't excuse my behavior." You raised a brow at the way he was speaking.

"Are you okay? Did you, like, go to school with the prince or something? Why are you talking so properly?" You laughed.

"Media training."

"Media training? Are you a promise?" Your eyes widened.

He laughed, "No. I play a little hockey in New York."

"Wow, a real city boy." You teased, "You any good?"

"A little." Mat smiled with a nod. You hummed, smiling, "So, look, there isn't much to do around here, so I was wondering if you wanted to go to the music store with me." He offered.

You were shocked, "Yeah, sure." You nodded.

"Cool." He nodded, trying to play it cool, "Are you free tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Cool." He nodded again, "How does 1 sound?"

"Sounds good." You nodded.

The next day, you were ready way before 1 o'clock, and at exactly 1 o'clock on the dot, there was a knock on your door and you knew immediately who it was.

You jumped off the couch, smoothing down your pants, before making your way over and opening the door, "Hey." You smiled.

"Hey, you ready?" He asked, his hands shoved into his pockets. On the outside, he looked cool and carefree but on the inside, he was so nervous and could feel the nervous sweat going down his back.

"Yeah." You grabbed your bag and then locked your door. You walked and talked over to the music store, the conversation very mundane.

The second you walked through, you were off in your own world. You ditched Mat and started rifling through the records as if you weren't there a couple days ago.

"Looking for anything in particular?" He asked, looking through the box next to you.

"No, but every now and then, they get new records." You shrugged, continuing your search.

"Hey, Y/N." The owner, Vic, called out, grabbing your attention, "I think I have something for you." He waved you over. You eagerly walked over and gasped when he pulled a record from under the desk.

"Vic, have I ever told you I love you?" Your eyes were wide as he handed you the record.

He only smiled as Mat walked over in confusion, "What's so special about a Blink-182 record?"

"We moved houses a little while ago, and in the move, I lost this record. It meant everything to me. I would play it practically every day, so when it went missing, it was the worst day of my life. I've been on the lookout for one since then, but for some reason, it's been impossible."

"Until today," Vic spoke up with a proud smile.

"Until today." You nodded with a smile. You got your wallet out, ready to pay, but Mat stopped you, "What?"

"I got it." He told you, handing Vic his card.

"What? No." You shook your head.

"Can't I just do this nice thing?" He chuckled.

You pursed your lips as you tried to read him, "Fine." You related, letting Vic swipe his card so he could pay.

Mat held the door open for you as you exited, "You know, I didn't tell you that story just for you to pay for this right?"

"I know." He nodded, "I just wanted to." He shrugged.

"Well, next time you see something you like, within reason, let me buy it for you." You nudged him.

"We'll see." He smirked.

As the weeks passed, you and Mat started hanging out more. You learned about his life in New York, learned about his best friend Anthony, his sister, and his parents. You also learned about his crippling fear of dogs, which was hilarious, and he regretted it the moment you started laughing.

He learned about your love for books and your love for ABBA and Mamma Mia. He learned your mom worked at a hotel and she also shared your love of music.

Your mom was at work, so you were left alone. It was summer after all. You were startled and confused by the knock at the door, "What're you doing here?" You asked.

"Hi, Mat. Good to see you too." He joked sarcastically.

"With the formalities out of the way, my question remains. What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was doing some research. There's a hockey team nearby. It's like minor league, I don't think they even keep score, but I got us tickets. They're for today." He held up a piece of paper with information about the team.

"Let's say I wasn't free. What would you do?" You asked.

"Go to the game alone." He shrugged.

"Fine. Just give me like 10 minutes."

"You have 5." You raised a brow, "I was working up the courage to ask you and kind of wasted a lot of time. The game starts in an hour and it takes a while to get there." He scratched the back of his neck.

"Awh, do I make you nervous, Mat?" You teased.

He quickly shook his head, "No."

You laughed, "All right, five minutes." You nodded.

You found your seats but before you made it, Mat insisted on buying you a hat from one of the parents outside. The merch had the team logo on it, and most of the people inside were wearing it.

"Wow, this is much more enthusiastic than I imagined for some reason." You laughed.

"Yeah, they can get pretty rowdy." He looked around.

"So, you go to many games in New York?" You asked.

He laughed, "A few."

"What does that mean?" You asked curiously, to which he only smiled, turning his attention to the ice as they began the national anthem.

By second period intermission, Mat had explained every rule of the game to you so you understood a little of what was going on, "Hey, I'm gonna get a hotdog, you want anything?" He stood up from his seat.

"A hotdog sounds pretty good about now." You nodded with a smile.

By the time Mat got back, the second period was getting ready to start, "Sorry, line for hotdogs was long." He handed you yours with a couple packets of condiments, "Didn't know what you wanted, so I got everything."

"It's all good. Thank you." you smiled, "How much do I owe you?"

"It's on me." He shook his head as you pulled out your phone.

"What? Mat we can't keep doing this. I have money, you know." You joked.

"I know, but I feel bad that I took so long."

"It's fine. I made a friend." You pointed below you to the kid who was sitting in front of you with his family. The kid waved, a look of awe on his face.

Mat winked. He knew the look on the kid's face. It was one he was all too familiar with. The look of recognition. The kid knew who he was, but thankfully, had the manners not to say anything.

By the end of the game, you were practically a seasoned expert. You followed Mat around the arena, thinking you were going to the car, but were confused when you ended up right next to the ice.

"What are we doing here?" You asked nervously.

"Well, since it's your first game, I thought I'd make it memorable." He smiled, "Your gonna ride the Zamboni." Your eyes widened.

"What?" He pointed to the big ice machine coming down the hall.

"So, who's it gonna be?" The Zamboni driver asked, looking between you and Mat. Mat quickly, without hesitation, pointed to you, "All right, hop on." The man smiled.

You got on the Zamboni, and it felt like an out-of-body experience as you drove around the rink. Mat watched, filming the entire thing, from the entrance off the side of the ice.

"That was crazy." You exclaimed as you hopped off.

"Yeah? I thought you'd like it." He laughed, sending a smile and a wave to the driver and the couple of workers in charge of the Zamboni.

"That was so cool, Mat. Thank you. I had a lot of fun tonight."

"I'm glad I was able to be the lucky guest who took you to your first game."

"Glad you were here for it. You're a good teacher. Thanks to you, I wasn't so clueless." You laughed.

"And you're absolutely sure there's nothing going on?" Mat asked.

Lauren sighed, "Yes, Mat, I'm sure. I'm pretty sure I know my own kid's schedule."

"Okay, I just want to make sure. These tickets were very expensive and I don't think they're refundable."

"And I told you, I can pay for her ticket." Lauren insisted with another exasperated sigh.

"And I told you I got it covered," Mat told her.

Both of their heads whipped over to the door as you walked in, confused at the way they both looked over at you, "Hi."

"Hi, honey." Your mom smiled, "Well, I'm going to get going. I've got some stuff to do. I'll see you later." She grabbed her bag quickly and kissed your head before leaving.

"That was strange." You laughed, setting your stuff down on the couch, "So, what're you doing here? Another hockey game?" You asked.

"Well..."

"Oh, please don't tell me you bought hockey tickets again. I had fun, but I think the next time we go, I should buy them because I feel like a moocher and if I buy them then you can't tell me no." You ranted.

He smiled, "Not like that, but I do have another surprise."

"Oh, no."

"Oh no" what?" He asked.

"Your surprises are always big and expensive."

"The hockey tickets weren't too bad and the record I got you was even cheaper than both tickets combined."

"Mat..."

"Okay, fine, this one's a little expensive." He handed you an envelope, nodding his head when you raised a brow at him. Your entire body froze when you read what the paper said.

"Mat Barzal." You gasped, "Are you serious right now? This isn't a joke?" You started looking around the room.

"What're you looking for?" He laughed.

"Cameras." You answered.

"Stop, I'm being serious. They're real." He grabbed your arms and sat you back down.

"Holy crap." You sat down, covering your mouth in shock, "You actually got Blink-182 tickets?"

"Yeah." He nodded with a proud smile on his face.

"How?"

"I know a guy." He shrugged, to which you raised a brow, "All right, my sisters pretty good at this, so I had her get them for me."

"Well, tell your sister I love her, and thank you." You were still in shock as you kept reading the tickets, "Oh, my God, now I have to find something to wear." You rushed off to your room.

"This is insane." You shouted over the loud noise of everyone in the arena, "And so are these seats. I don't think I've ever been this close to the stage for a concert in my life." You laughed.

"Yeah, Liana is really good at these kinds of things." Mat nodded.

"I really can't thank you enough, Mat. This means so much. No one's ever done this for me."

"Eh, it was nothing." He shrugged it off.

"Okay, just take my gratitude, will you." You both laughed. You took your seats and sat in silence, just taking everything in. Mat left a few times to go to the bathroom and get food, but you sat the entire time, wanting to remember everything.

After the concert, you were on a high. The post-concert depression was hitting, but it was worth it. You quickly went through your grocery list as your mom waited for you in the car.

"Thanks." You smiled at the bagger as you rushed outside. You set the stuff in the backseat then got into the passenger side, "All right, they had everything except tomatoes." You informed her, looking over at her. You could see the worry in her brows, "What is it? Did someone die?" You asked.

"No." She shook her head, "Honey..." She paused.

"Just tell me." You exclaimed.

"It's Mat." She started.

"What about him?" You asked, your mind racing as you frantically thought of every possibility.

"He's gone." She told her, her eyes screaming with pity and sadness.

"Gone? Gone where?"

"Milo called while you were inside. Said he went home."

"Home where?"

"Back to New York. Said the team called and said everything was cleared and he could come home." She explained.

"What team?" You asked nervously.

"You didn't know?"

"Know what, Mom?" Your brows furrowed together again, this time in confusion and hurt.

"Mat plays for the New York Islanders. A pro hockey team, like the big league. He was sent to Ivory because of some bad press and now that it's all cleared up they called him back." You sat back in your seat, taking in what she had just said. She watched you, worried, "You okay?"

"I want to go home." You told her.

"All right." She nodded.

As soon as you got home, you made a beeline for your room and stayed there for the rest of the night. You laid in bed, not even moving when your mom called for dinner.

She leaned in the doorway, watching you stare at the wall, "I'm gonna just leave this here." She said, setting the plate down on your nightstand, then sitting on your bed. "You feeling okay?"

"Why didn't he tell me?"

"I can't speak for him, but maybe he just wanted to forget about whatever was going on in New York." She suggested.

"But I wouldn't have judged him or said anything."

"I know that." She nodded, hugging you and kissing your head.

"I really liked him, Mom." You whispered, your voice going quiet as your eyes filled with tears.

"I know you did." She whispered, her own eyes filling with tears as she did her best to comfort you.

The months dragged on and eventually, you moved on. It took a lot of pushing from your mom and even Milo, but you started hanging out with a guy from your school and one thing led to another and you started going out.

"Y/N, Jared's here." Your mom announced.

"Coming!" You hollered back, fixing your shirt before hustling down the hall where Jared was standing, talking to your mom, "Hey, you ready to go?"

"Yeah." He smiled. You said your goodbyes to your mom before you were out and walking through Ivory. Jared was telling a joke, which made you smile.

"What is it?" Jared asked, noticing that you stopped laughing. He followed your line of sight over to someone across the street, "Who's that?"

"It's, uh," You swallowed harshly, "It's no one." You shook your head, "Let's go." You grabbed his hand and pulled him down the street.

Mat saw you from across the street and even from across the street, he could make out the look of surprise and hurt on your face. He saw you drag the guy who he could only assume was your boyfriend down the street and couldn't deny the pang it sent to his heart.

The next day, you had sufficiently ignored and avoided Mat, somehow. How you did it was a mystery even to you but you did it. All that progress came crashing down when he walked into the diner.

You were waiting for your mom and he had seen you from outside and rushed in, "There you are." He sighed, trying to catch his breath after running in.

You sighed, angrily setting your cup down as he took the seat in front of you, "Look, you have every right to be upset with me..."

"Hell yeah, I have the right to be upset with you. For one, you lied to me about everything, and two, you left without any explanation or reason. I had to find out through Milo."

"I didn't lie about everything."

"Oh, no, just your occupation and the real reason you were here."

"Look, I don't get why you're upset." Mat sighed, and the moment the words left his mouth, he knew he messed up.

You scoffed, "You have some nerve, you know? I get it, you didn't want people to know who you were or why you were here, but I thought, I really thought we had something special but then you just leave. No note, no email, not even a message in a freaking bottle!." You exclaimed, shaking your head, and gathered your stuff.

"I tried."

"I don't believe you." You turned and walked out the door, ignoring the looks the other patrons in the diner were giving you.

It was like was against you because as you turned the street with Jared, Mat was walking down the other side, his arm wrapped around some girl's shoulder, a girl you had never seen.

You slowed your pace but it was already too late to cross the street, "Huh, funny seeing you here." Mat commented.

"Yeah." You sighed.

"Do you two know each other?" Jared asked.

"At one point." You nodded, keeping your eyes on Mat.

"Well, are you going to introduce us?" The girl Mat was with asked impatiently.

"Right," Mat nodded, "This is Alexis."

"This is my boyfriend, Jared." You pointed to your boyfriend.

"And this is awkward." Alexis muttered under her breath, "Mat, I wanna go."

"Alright, yeah, we gotta go." Mat grabbed her hand again and they walked past you.

You sighed, linking arms with Jared again as continued your walk, "So, who was that?"

"Mat. He's just a friend, well a former friend." You corrected.

"Just a friend?" Jared raised a brow.

"Just a friend." You nodded, reassuring Jared.

Mat hadn't planned to be in Ivory for too long, but he wanted to make sure you accepted his apology before he left. Milo had caught a cold and Mat could barely cook, so Mat braved the cold and went outside to get food from the diner when he saw you and Jared standing in the park, seemingly in the middle of an argument. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but you were in public and he was just there.

"Are you serious? You promised he was just a friend, but ever since he got here, you've been weird." Jared told you.

"Jared, please, can we do this somewhere else?"

"No, be honest with me, do you like him?" He asked. By that point, everyone in Ivory was listening in on your conversation.

"What are you talking about?" You balked, "This is so stupid, Jared. You're making no sense."

"I'm making perfect sense. Before Mat came to town, we were perfect. Everything was going great. Then he came to town and it was like a switch had flipped. Everything changed, Y/N," The way he said your name hurt.

You knew he was right, but maybe you were too blind and hurt by what Mat had done to see it, "Jared, please."

"No, no more. I'm done. I'm sorry." He shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets as he headed for his car down the street.

You stood there, regretting not wearing a jacket. As you looked around, you then realized just how many people had heard your fight and it was just the icing on the cake.

You were tired and as soon as the first tear fell, you were running as far and as fast as you could. Mat stood in his spot frozen in confusion. Everyone was watching you, not stepping in to help, so he decided to do it.

"Hey!" He shouted, his voice echoing loudly enough for everyone to hear him, "Quit it!" Everyone quickly went back to what they were doing.

He sighed, following after you as fast as he could. He found you sitting on a bridge, over a lake. He could hear you crying and sniffling as he caught his breath.

"Y/N...?" He called out your name quietly so it wouldn't startle you, "Can I sit next to you?" You didn't say anything, so he took it as his chance to sit down, "Wow, you are a fast runner." He felt his lungs burn with every word he spoke and every breath he took.

"Took track in high school." You told him, sniffling as you both looked out onto the water, "Was it bad?"

"Nah." He shook his head.

"Don't lie to me right now, Mat." You sighed.

He hesitated, "All right, it was a little bad." He admitted.

"God." You sighed, wiping your eyes.

"But don't worry, it'll all be over by next week."

"Great, so I can't go outside for the next week." You sighed angrily, "You can go, Mat. I'll be okay."

"No." He shook his head.

"Just go." You repeated.

"I'm not leaving you alone." He stated. You sighed, rubbing your temple, "Me and Alexis, we were never dating." He admitted.

"What?" You asked, brows furrowing together at his random outburst.

"We were never together. We went on a date, yeah, but nothing more."

"Why are you telling me?"

"Just so you know you aren't alone." He reached over and grabbed your hand. He smiled when you looked at your hands together, but didn't do anything to remove your hand from his.

After Mat had followed you down to the lake, you had kind of been avoiding him. It hadn't been intentional at first, but it sort of just happened.

Mat saw you across the street and started crossing the street to see you, but you quickly ducked into a store and lost him. That was when he knew something was wrong. He thought he did something wrong, so that was why he avoided you.

You knew you had to tell him what was on your mind, so you decided to go to his place and tell him what was wrong. You knocked on his door and saw when he opened. thedoor, he looked like he wanted to shut it in your face.

"Before you shut the door, please let me say what I want to say, then you can shut the door in my face." You cut him off.

"All right." He nodded, crossing his arms.

"Look, I'm sorry I've been avoiding you. It's immature of me and it's wrong because you didn't do anything. It's all me." You admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"I like you, Mat. Like, really like you, and when you left, it hurt. I was hurt, and when you came back, I was surprised. You came back just as fast as you left. It was all happening too fast. I had gotten over you, I was with Jared, then you came back and threw a wrench into everything."

"Oh, my apologies." He narrowed his eyes as he spoke, sarcastically of course.

You narrowed your eyes back at him before you continued, "I'm trying to apologize for the way I've been acting and I just wanted to tell you that I really liked you and really liked spending time with you before you jet off to New York again and leave without a goodbye." You shrugged.

He sighed, running a hand across his face, "Y/N..." He breathed out.

"That's all I had to say. You can shut the door now if you want." You told him, turning on your heel and walking down the stairs.

Mat's brain was slower than his feet because before he knew it, he was calling out your name and picking up his pace. He grabbed your arm softly and spun you around.

He ignored the confused look on your face before leaning in for a kiss. When you pulled away, your brows furrowed in confusion, "Is that you saying you feel the same way?"

"Yes." He laughed, "I like you, too, Y/N."

"Oh, okay." You nodded, stunned by what just happened, "Can we kiss again?"

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miracleonice87 · 9 months

Text

something in the way she moves

with Jack Hughes

for the summer fic exchange 2k23

a/n: I’ve been in my Taylor Swift and Jack Hughes era all summer, so what better way to write my exchange fic for @wyattjohnston than to combine those two subjects into one project for her? this one was originally inspired by “Question…?” and ended up tying together several Taylor songs all at once – check out the companion playlist for all of those and more songs that inspired the fic! also, shoutout to Brady and Emma’s wedding for providing the perfect backdrop for this story after I stalled out with ideas for the perfect present-day setting. lots of special guests appear in this one! finally, some people might hate the flashback format with all the jumping around, but I’ve been watching a lot of “The Summer I Turned Pretty” so you can thank the show for that! hope everyone enjoys… but especially @wyattjohnston. this one’s for you, my friend! endless thanks to you for putting on this wonderful exchange for us all, and for inviting me to be part of it. (and thanks to the lovely @laurenairay for the assist!)

tropes: whirlwind romance, exes to lovers, fluff, angst

warnings: swearing, alcohol, mention of breakup, arguing / conflict, sexual references but nothing graphic or detailed, quinn and luke and brady and matthew being pests, miles wood being a drunken hooligan lolol

word count: ~8,500+ (hey who knew I still knew how to write long fic)

_____

July 21, 2023 – present day – Brady and Emma Tkachuk’s wedding – Peapack-Gladstone, New Jersey…

“Can I ask you a question?”

Jack tucked his chin to his chest, busying himself with studying the pattern of the brick patio beneath his smart white sneakers. Whatever question Francesca had in mind, he was absolutely sure he was unprepared for it. But he nodded anyway.

Fran stared at his profile as he shuffled his feet beneath him, but as he lifted his head to look at her, she looked away, unable to meet his eyes as she forged ahead. Her gaze settled across the horizon instead, the moonlight casting a glow across the rolling green hills of Natirar.

She sighed, then bit the bullet. “Does it feel like everything’s just like… second best now?” she inquired listlessly.

Jack chuckled sadly, fiddling nervously with the neck of his amber beer bottle. Anybody who knew Jack knew he was never nervous. Except for where Fran was involved. She was the only person who had ever been able to do anything remotely resembling rattling him.

“What, after that meteor strike?” he asked sarcastically.

That’s what it felt like, at least – that night two years ago, when his team was out celebrating the end of their abysmal season before separating for the summer, the very same night her roommates had dragged her kicking and screaming from Fordham’s campus, across the Hudson, to see some indie band for one last hurrah before they went their own respective ways until fall semester, and Jack and Fran found themselves in the same crowded Hoboken bar. It felt like a meteor had crashed directly in his path that May night and blown up his entire life as he had known it.

He nodded wearily before answering his now ex-girlfriend’s, as well as his own rhetorical, question.

“Yeah, Fran. Yeah… it definitely does.”

Because second best was all that anything could have ever been, following the sensational rise and the staggering fall of Jack Hughes and Francesca DeLuca.

He’d never forget the very moment he first laid eyes on her…

___

May 1, 2021 – two years earlier…

From Jack’s perch at the bar next to Nico, nursing a Moscow mule, the girl in the pale yellow halter dress was impossible to miss.

He’d never believed in love at first sight, but as he surveyed the way that dress hugged her curves as she danced with her girlfriends, belting out the lyrics to “Peaches” to Justin Bieber, he thought for the first time that he might be completely wrong about that notion. He watched her hips sway enticingly, her olive-toned skin glowing beneath the bright multicolored lights, dark curls bouncing along with her every step.

Before he knew it, his feet were taking steps of their own, ditching Nico mid-sentence as the young captain stood dumbfounded, arms flung out to his sides in annoyance as Jack sauntered away. As he watched Jack approach a circle of dancing young women, he zeroed in on the one in the yellow dress right away, knowing immediately that she was the reason for the abrupt end to his conversation with his teammate. As he saw Jack approach her, Nico could only smile and roll his eyes as he wandered off to find the rest of the Devils crew, assuming they’d lost #86 to the girl in the yellow dress for the rest of the evening.

Meanwhile, for once, Jack didn’t have a plan, no course of action – didn’t have a pick-up line prepared, didn’t have anything clever in mind to say when he reached the girl in the yellow dress. When he finally did, she had her back to him, and it was only thanks to her perceptive friend, who pressed her lips into a straight line and tapped the woman on the shoulder, pointing to where he stood, that she even turned around and noticed Jack over her shoulder.

And when she finally did lay eyes on him… well, she was as sunk as he was.

Nothing was said between the two for a few moments, only bashful smiles exchanged. The girl took a few steps toward him, and he eventually found the wherewithal to open his mouth, praying that whatever was about to tumble from his lips wouldn’t make him look like a complete idiot.

“Hi… I like your dress.”

Okay, could’ve been better, could’ve been worse.

The girl’s lips spread into a grin, one that made Jack’s stomach flip over itself.

“Thanks,” she said, glancing down to what she was wearing as if she herself had forgotten. Then her eyes scanned his outfit. “I, uh, I like yours, too.”

A giggle escaped Jack before he could stop it, and instead of making things awkward, it seemed to endear the girl to him further.

“Thanks,” he muttered. And then no other words came to mind.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he berated himself. Say something else, you jackass.

Thankfully, the girl saved them both from complete and total disaster and rescued Jack from himself.

“I’m Francesca,” she said, raising her voice above the thumping music which seemed to get louder with every passing moment. “But everyone calls me Fran.”

Jack extended a hand for a gentlemanly shake, making Fran smile as she grasped it in hers.

“It’s nice to meet you, Fran,” he said, ducking his head close to her ear so that he, too, could be heard above the music… and maybe because it provided the perfect opportunity to be closer to her. “I’m Jack. And everyone calls me Jack.”

That earned a full-on chuckle from Fran which warmed Jack from the inside out. He watched her, grinning from ear to ear, amused by her amusement and encouraged by the fact that him introducing himself hadn’t seemed to spark any instances of the often inescapable “don’t I know you from somewhere?” or “you look so familiar” or, worse, “you play hockey, right?” He could be jinxing it, or she could just have a really impressive poker face, but it seemed that Fran truly had no earthly idea what he did for a living… and that delighted him to no end.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Jack,” she replied, still allowing her hand to be enveloped by his. “Are you from around here?”

Jackpot.

He fidgeted with the cocktail glass in his hand, making the melting ice cubes clink against the side. “Ah, kind of a long story,” he admitted truthfully with a smirk.

She glanced at her wrist as if checking her watch, though there was no timepiece to be seen.

“Well, I’ve got time,” she retorted playfully. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Jack shook his head emphatically. “Absolutely not, but I’ll buy you one and tell you all about it,” he said, nodding in the direction of the bar. “After you.”

Fran eagerly took the lead, heading straight for the bar as he followed close behind. Once they reached the counter, she rested her elbows on its edge and waited patiently for the bartender to take the orders of the other patrons who had been waiting far longer than the two of them.

But as Jack sidled up to her, resting one arm dangerously, though comfortably, close to hers against the cool aluminum bartop, his chest pressed just close enough to her back to be noteworthy but not overbearing, she noticed that the bartender’s eyes flickered toward him immediately, an immediate smile crossing the woman’s face. Francesca was even more confused, and admittedly disheartened, when the bartender ditched the entire far side of the bar in favor of beelining it toward Jack.

“What can I get you, sweet cheeks?” the bartender said in a syrupy cadence, leaning over the counter as if to make sure Jack noticed her sizable chest on display in her black sports bra.

Blegh, Fran thought. Maybe this guy isn’t such a good idea…

Unfazed, he asked, “Hey, can I please get another vodka cran and then…” Jack motioned to Fran.

“Uh, Bud Light, please?” she ordered, repeating the same go-to drink she’d already had half a dozen of.

Jack pursed his lips to attempt to avoid a full-blown grin. He couldn’t help but love a girl who loved her beer.

The bartender nodded, knocking on the counter and turning toward the taps.

Fran tried to put the awkward encounter with the bartender to the back of her mind for the moment and turned 90 degrees so that she could face Jack more easily.

“So, you are or you aren’t from around here?” she asked, returning to the question that had led the two of them here originally.

Jack smiled, weighing his options. This question was always a complicated one to answer… but something about explaining it to Fran put him oddly at ease.

“So we, uh, we moved around a bit because my dad was a hockey player before he had kids, and then a coach for years while I was growing up,” he began.

“Oh, nice! I don’t know much about hockey,” she told him, shaking her head. “Big on playing sports but never big on watching them.”

Oh, my god, he thought to himself as he nodded, trying to seem casual. It’s like this girl was built in a lab just for me.

However, he didn’t know whether this next part would seem better or worse to a girl who wasn’t a sports fan. But it was his reality, so he decided to lay it bare.

“Gotcha, um… so, I… also play hockey.”

Francesca’s eyebrows shot up.

“Wow… really?”

Jack nodded again, then cleared his throat.

“Yeah, uh, that’s actually why I’m here tonight,” he explained. “All my teammates are here. Our season just ended and everybody’s about to separate for the summer, so we came out for one last night together for a while.”

It was Fran’s turn to nod as the bartender approached, and Jack thanked her and pushed a large bill across the counter. Fran busied herself with running her finger along the rim of her glass, pretending like she didn’t notice the generous denomination. Jack leaned an elbow against the counter to face her, in hopes of continuing the conversation.

“So… wait, you play for, what, the Rangers? Islanders?” she asked, pulling the names of the teams she vaguely recalled from the cobwebbed recesses of her brain.

Jack smacked a hand to his chest dramatically as if he’d just been shot.

“God, Fran,” he hissed, “you really know how to wound me.”

“What?!” she asked, sputtering with laughter. “I dunno! Are those the wrong team names?!”

Jack shook his head, entertained. “No, no,” he assured. “You were right – those are NHL teams, but I play for the Devils. They play just over in Newark.”

“Oh… right,” Fran said softly, biting her lip and tucking her chin to her chest, praying she somehow didn’t look as stupid as she felt.

Jack lowered his head to try and meet her eyes, squeezing her elbow gently. The simple touch alone sent a bolt of electricity through her being.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed,” he said with an easy chuckle. “Trust me, it’s way better having to explain all this to you than having you come up and recite it all to me like some creepy walking encyclopedia.”

Francesca forced a tight smile, but still stared at her shoes. In a gutsy move, he reached his thumb and forefinger to grasp her chin and gently tilt her head upward.

“C’mon, lemme see that pretty face,” he said in a gravelly tone, one that made her spine shiver.

Just as she found herself leaning into his touch, she saw a tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered man approaching Jack from behind, unsteady on his feet. She assumed that this was one of his teammates, as the taller man went to sling a noodly arm around Jack’s shoulders.

“Uh, look out-” Fran warned… but it was too late.

The man’s hand flung Jack’s glass clean out of his grip, sending its red liquid contents splashing all over Fran’s chest and stomach before hitting the floor, thankfully hitting a sopping wet rug beneath the bar, which was the only thing that kept it from shattering into a million pieces.

They both gasped in the process, and Jack instinctively grabbed her by the forearm.

“Oh, my god! Omigod, fuck, Fran, I-I’m so sorry,” he lamented. “Woody! Fuck!” he yelled to the drunken man who apologized apathetically, then disappeared into the crowd.

Fran blinked quickly, her mouth in a tight “o” as she set aside her beer. As a wincing Jack stupidly patted her torso with the flimsy cocktail napkin that had been handed to him with his drink, he took in her expression and felt sick to his stomach.

Well, there you have it, he thought to himself. No way she’s ever gonna see me again after this…

What he hadn’t accounted for, though, was that after the initial shock of wearing the cold drink faded, Fran would throw her head back in uproarious laughter, eyes screwed up tight in hilarity.

Jack let one nervous snicker escape him, and then another, and then another… and by the time thirty seconds had passed, the two of them were breathless in fits of giggles, Jack keeping a firm hand on the crook of Fran’s arm.

“Are you okay?” he managed to utter as they finally began to settle down.

She nodded, wiping tears of hysteria away with her wrist.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she promised, splaying a hand on her chest as she glanced down at the maroon stain on her yellow dress. “I’m just dying because this is my roommate’s dress and she made me swear not to spill anything on it,” she admitted, erupting with laughter all over again. “So much for that.”

Jack’s eyes glittered as he watched her chuckle. “Well, the blame lies squarely on me, so I’ll apologize to her for that one,” he told her, beaming. He cleared his throat before venturing forward. “Hey, my place isn’t far and I think I’ve got some club soda in the fridge… whad’ya say we-”

Before he could finish his thought, Fran picked up where Jack had left off before the drink had been spilled, pressing a hand assertively to his cheek and leaning forward to plant a firm kiss to his lips. Neither of them knew how much time had passed before she eventually pulled away, biting her bottom lip coyly.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, smoothing the back of his finger across her cheekbone. He watched a Cheshire grin spread across her now-swollen lips, and she offered an enthusiastic nod.

He trailed his fingertips down her bare arm, sending chills across her skin despite the heat and humidity of the bar, before he reached for her hand.

“Then let’s go.”

After a short cab ride brimming with stolen glances and squeezes of hands, the two were practically sprinting through his front door, Jack not bothering to even turn on the lights in favor of keeping his hands securely on Fran’s lower back, holding her desperately close as his lips danced across hers with simultaneous ease and desire.

Eventually, he carefully backed her into his kitchen and hoisted her onto the counter, feeling her quiver when the cool marble hit the backs of her thighs.

He smiled against her lips and said roughly, “I gotta get you that club soda.”

She shook her head without breaking away from his kiss.

“It can wait,” she whispered insistently. “Just get me outta this dress.”

Jack smirked, his fingers immediately following orders as they searched for the zipper in the middle of her back.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he retorted, finally pulling the zipper down, allowing him to tug the dress over her head. He offered it to her, one last chance to take care of the task they came here under the guise of doing – removing the maroon stain from the gauzy garment. Instead, she tossed it aside, watching as it floated to the tile floor before grasping Jack’s shoulders purposefully, leaning in to speak against the delicate skin of his ear.

“I want you,” she admitted, nipping at his earlobe.

And after he carried her to his bedroom, she had him, had her fill of him – just the way they both wanted, their union the perfect balance between urgent and reverent, as if they both already knew that whatever this was between the two of them was something meant to be cherished.

More than an hour later, after making the mutual decision that it was time for a snack and a little something else to drink in order to replenish their strength, Jack left her alone with her thoughts in the quiet of his bedroom as he made his way back to the kitchen, donning only a pair of sweats, smiling when he picked up the now-rumpled yellow dress and placed it in his spacious farmhouse-style sink. He secured the drain stopper and retrieved the club soda from the refrigerator, still smirking to himself as he poured the stain-fighting liquid over the fabric to ensure it was completely immersed.

As he turned back to the fridge on the hunt for a satisfactory snack, Jack saw Fran emerge from his bedroom wearing nothing but one of his white dress shirts and a clean pair of his boxers.

She grimaced, and he sensed her unease even from a few yards away.

“I’m sorry, I just kinda put on the first things I found in your closet,” she said, one eye squeezed shut as if it pained her to make the admission. “I hope that’s okay. I swear I don’t make it a habit to put on a guy’s clothes like I own the place, but I, uh… didn’t exactly have a dress to put back on,” she pointed out.

Still distracted by the sight of her in his clothes, he shook his head rapidly.

“No, no, of course… I’m taking care of that as we speak,” he assured, nodding his head in the direction of the sink. “And you can wear whatever you want of mine – I should’ve laid something out for you, but… this is perfect.” He took a few slow steps toward her, his hands coming to rest on her hips. “You look amazing,” he said, his voice deep once again.

Francesca bloomed under his praise, preened beneath his touch as he reached out to stroke her cheek, his thumb coming to rest on her plush lips.

“Thank you,” she whispered, pursing her lips to kiss the pad of his thumb.

It took every ounce of gentlemanly will in Jack not to throw her over his shoulder and haul her back into the bedroom again. Instead, he forced himself to take a step back and motion toward the adjacent living room.

“Go on and make yourself comfortable,” he urged as she glanced toward the expansive space. “I’ll grab us a couple things and be right over.”

Fran nodded and obliged, entering the inviting area and finding herself immediately drawn to the vintage Victrola on a shelf on the far side of the room.

Meanwhile, after coming up empty in the liquor cabinet and noticing that the refrigerator was fresh out of beer, Jack opened a crummy bottle of wine he was certain Ty had bought once for a date but had never been touched. He poured two glasses and set them on a sturdy wooden tray, then scrounged through the cupboards to find some crackers that weren’t stale to go along with the Gouda and sopressata he’d found in the fridge. Pleased that he accomplished his mission, he arranged all of the items on the tray and carried it into the living room. As he set it on the coffee table, he found Fran admiring the shelves displaying his substantial collection of vinyls. Upon hearing him approach, a glass of wine for her in hand, Fran turned his way.

“You have quite the record collection there, Mr. Tough Guy Hockey Jock,” she teased, brows raised as she gratefully accepted the glass. “And not just the trendy new stuff, the good stuff – Sinatra, the Beatles, Fleetwood Mac, Bowie, Pink Floyd. I’m impressed.”

Jack smirked. “Thanks – to be fair, I inherited a bunch of them from my parents and grandparents. They’d move and they’d always threaten to sell these on eBay but I wouldn’t let ‘em,” he explained. “Go ahead, put one on – anything.”

His request was easier said than done, and as he turned away to close the blinds throughout the room, chomping on cheese and crackers, she faced the impossible task of choosing one, eventually settling on James Taylor’s “Something in the Way She Moves.”

He smiled when he heard the first strains, and her eyes met his when she turned away from the record player after setting the needle.

“Great choice,” he praised, the two of them crossing the room toward one another as if at the mercy of some magnetic force.

“One of my mom’s favorites,” she explained, fingers toying with the hem of the dress shirt as the folksy melody swirled throughout the room.

There's something in the way she moves Or looks my way, or calls my name That seems to leave this troubled world behind…

When they were no more than a foot apart, Jack opened his palm and held it out toward her.

“Dance with me,” he less invited, more demanded, not that Fran minded. She instantly slipped her fingers into his and took a step nearer so that their chests were pressed impossibly close.

She in his shirt and boxers, he in a pair of sweats, neither of them in shoes, they twirled around his living room as if attending a royal ball, until an unmistakable scratch signaled the end of the record… but by then, Jack and Fran were already locked in each others’ embrace again, the only sounds in the room the panting breaths escaping their lips between fiery kisses.

They never did make it back to the bedroom that night, didn’t even ever find sleep where they stayed curled up together in the living room, talking and laughing through the wee hours. Instead, when the sun rose, their only hint that morning had already come, they were sitting on the hardwood floor, laughing with her feet in his lap like he was her closest friend and not some random boy she’d met at a bar mere hours before.

“How’d we end up on the floor anyway?” Jack said, rubbing at a kink in his neck as one hand stayed fixed on her ankles.

Fran lifted the empty bottle of wine next to where she lay, and his eyes reluctantly traveled away from her face and toward her hands.

“Your roommate’s cheap-ass screw-top rose, that’s how,” she retorted, reminding him of the bottle they’d shared after all the drinks they’d already indulged in at the bar.

“Mmm…” he hummed with lifted brows, both of them chuckling at the culprit as she set it back down on the hardwood. “So… coffee?” he inquired, desperate for this night – or, well, now morning – not to end. Desperate for Fran to stay here, with him, and never leave.

To his delight, she cocked her head against the throw pillow and offered him the warmest smile he’d ever seen.

“I’d love some,” she answered simply, realizing she’d be content to never see the outside world, anything beyond the walls of this Hoboken house, again.

They saw each other every day for the next year and a half after that, and starting with that very first one, Jack had painted all Fran’s nights a color she had searched for since.

And still, to this day, she couldn’t remember who she was before him.

___

July 21, 2023 – present day…

“This day,” that is, being Brady and Emma Tkachuk’s wedding day. Which after the breakup, Fran had never anticipated being present for.

But then came the phone call in the dead of winter, just weeks after she’d ended it with Jack. She was still reeling, trying to push through the pain while focusing on excelling in her last semester of undergrad, but anyone who knew her could see that she was struggling, including mutual friends of hers and Jack’s. Which soon made its way back to Emma via Brady.

And when Fran saw Emma’s name on her screen that day as she studied for an exam, she smiled. She hadn’t talked to Emma since before the split, and despite knowing it was more than likely going to be a covert check-up call, Fran was happy to hear from the girl she’d become so close to in the last two years.

___

February 18, 2023 – five months ago…

Fran tapped the “answer” button and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Hi, Em,” she said warmly.

“Hi! I miss you! Brady’s here, too,” Emma explained.

“Franny D!” he called over the speakerphone.

“Hey, B! I miss you guys, too,” she said sadly. “How are you guys?”

“We’re good!” Emma answered. “Neck-deep in wedding planning. I know it’s gonna be fun but it’s honestly kinda brutal.”

“Brutal, Franny,” Brady echoed dramatically. “It’s torture.”

Fran chuckled. “What, B, not enjoying picking out linen colors? Did you go with eggshell or warm white?”

“Couldn’t tell ya, Franny,” he replied. “If I had it my way, none of the tables would be covered and everybody’d just be playing beer pong on ‘em.”

Fran swore she could hear Emma’s eye roll. “You’re such a dude,” Fran complained.

“He’s not kidding about making that suggestion, either,” Emma said, feigning (or maybe not) weariness. “But, um, that’s not why we’re calling. First of all, we, uh… we just wanted to see how you were.”

Fran swallowed, staring out the window of her apartment, watching the snow swirl among the towering skyscrapers and across bustling streets. She’d been having trouble answering that question at all, let alone honestly. She reached to rub her palm up and down the length of her shin, suddenly feeling cold.

“I’m, um… I mean, I’ve been better, that’s for sure,” she told them. “I just… I really never thought this would happen, to be totally honest.” Her voice was quieter now, the familiar lump in her throat quivering.

Emma made a sound of understanding.

“Us either, Franny,” Brady gently concurred. “And I know you don’t wanna hear this right now, but I know Jacky didn’t think so either.”

Fran sighed, dropping her chin to her chest as her eyes fell to the azure crewneck with the maize Michigan logo emblazoned on the front, which Jack had left behind once after a trip to visit Luke. She had never returned it, and he eventually noticed it in the background of a FaceTime call while he was on a road trip and told her to keep it because he was certain it looked better on her anyway. And now it hurt to look at it, and it hurt to wear it, and it hurt to not wear it, so she went with wearing it, because even though she’d been the only one to don it for a year, she swore it still smelled like him. Unconsciously, she closed her eyes and breathed deep.

“I know,” she said softly.

“We didn’t wanna make you sad, Fran, but the other reason we were calling is just to say that we’d really like to invite you to the wedding in July-”

Brady interrupted his fiancee. “No, we are inviting you to the wedding, no question,” he said firmly. “But we just want you to know that it’s completely up to you whether you wanna come.”

“Yes,” Emma jumped in again. “We would absolutely love to have you there, because you mean so much to both of us, but we totally get it if it’s too much. Quinn’s in the wedding and we’re inviting their whole family, so… obviously Jack will be there.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she cleared her throat. “Y-yeah, of course, as he should be,” Fran managed. “I really appreciate the invitation, you guys. Seriously, it means so much to me. I’ll check the dates on my calendar, but I’d really love to come-”

Before she could even finish her thought, she heard a loud clap and a “FUCK YEAH!” from Brady, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re the best, Franny D,” he said. “And I’ll promise Quinny’ll keep Jacky on his best behavior.”

“Plus Ellen’ll be there, so you know he’s not getting away with shit,” Emma offered.

“You guys are too much,” Fran said affectionately. “It’s your day – I don’t need you worrying about me and J.” She felt a stab in her heart at her own use of the retired pet name, one that was once used so frequently and so fondly but was now avoided like a plague. She swallowed that lump in her throat again. “We’ll be fine.”

“We know you will,” Brady said softly. “Well, listen, we’ll let you go but, uh… thanks, Franny. I really hope you can make it.”

“Yes, we really do!” Emma reiterated. “We love you, Fran. Talk soon.”

“I love you guys, too,” she told them. “Thanks for calling.”

And Brady must not have been able to keep the news to himself, because within a few hours of agreeing to attend the Tkachuk wedding, her phone had buzzed four more times with text messages from four members of the Hughes clan:

Lukey: yooo B just told me you’re coming to the wedding!!! hell yes, sista 👊 see you soon

Quinny: Franny D, super happy to hear you’re coming to B’s wedding. we love ya, no matter what. can’t wait to see ya

Ellen: Hi, my sweet girl 💖 Chantal just told me that you’re planning to come to Brady and Emma’s wedding. I’m so happy to hear it! I’m counting down the days until I see you. Love always 💋

Jim: Hey Franny! Can’t wait to see you at the Tkachuk wedding this summer. Really glad you’re planning to go. ❤️

The only member of the family that her phone didn’t sound with a message from that night?

Jack.

The one that it hurt the most not to hear from.

She set her phone aside that night and swallowed, hard, pulling her legs to her chest and resting her forehead on her knees. Preparing to see Jack in person for the first time in months was going to be impossible enough, but seeing his entire family… that just might be enough to break her.

Because she’d never fallen out of love with them, either.

___

July 21, 2023 – present day…

And today, after a heartbreakingly long hug with Ellen before the ceremony, and affectionate but melancholy greetings from Jim and Luke, here Fran stood in the midst of Brady’s reception, in front of the middle Hughes son who never did text her leading up to this moment. When he’d seen her approach his family’s seats a few minutes before today’s ceremony, he had only just stood up from his chair at the far end of their row to try and make his way toward her when the processional music started, leaving both of them frozen in place, staring helplessly at one another. She’d mouthed sorry, and he’d nodded and mouthed we’ll talk, as his family sat still between them, awkwardly trying to avoid making eye contact with the estranged couple lest they make the moment even more painful for them than it already was.

When Fran turned to find the nearest single seat, she could feel the tingling heat creeping up her neck, and it wasn’t from the summer sun. She’d spent months agonizing over what she would say to Jack when she finally saw him again, and she still couldn’t believe that the first thing she’d spoken aloud after they’d found each other on the deck for a quiet moment alone was “can I ask you a question?” But how else was she supposed to begin the conversation, anyway?

And at least he’d agreed – conceded that nothing had yet felt as good as the two of them had. For the past six months, she’d been terrified that nothing ever would, and she had to admit, it felt good to know that he seemed to share that same belief.

It felt good and it felt awful all at the same time.

Fran sighed, lifting her gaze to the shimmering stars far above their heads.

“Why are we doing this?” she whispered, half to herself and half to him.

Jack gave her a quizzical look; she was all over the place right now… not that he didn’t feel completely undone and frazzled himself.

“What? Talking? I dunno, Fran, I can go back inside, but I wasn’t just gonna sit in there all night and ignore y-”

Fran stopped him, shaking her head. “No, that’s not what I mean,” she said, a noticeable exhaustion in her tone, one that Jack recognized in his own voice often these days. “I just mean… this hurts so bad, J. And it doesn’t have to – didn’t have to. We were so good together… why did-”

“Because you said it was too much, Fran,” Jack accused, sharply though accurately, remembering how the pressure of being in a serious relationship with one of North America’s most heralded professional athletes at such a young age had often left her curled up in a ball in the corner, something that at 20 and then 21 years old, he had found himself completely unprepared to handle.

“And I made the wrong choice!” Fran admitted, her voice rising an octave by the end of the sentence as her emotions took over. “At least I can admit it. Can you? I mean, you’re the one who left my house in the middle of the night, without even trying to put up a fight. Can you admit that you were in the wrong, too?”

Yeah, I can, he immediately thought to himself, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it.

Instead his mind flashed to the very moment in time where he knew he had indeed made the wrong choice.

___

April 3, 2023 – three months earlier…

Jack was trying his hardest to pay attention to his date. He truly was.

In a well-meaning but doomed-from-the-start attempt to help him get over Fran, one of the team WAGs had set him up with her college roommate who had recently moved to the city. So here he was at dinner following a Broadway show he’d never even heard of before, which he had bought tickets to specifically because he knew he wouldn’t have to speak to the girl for at least a couple of hours but would still come away looking like the hero for dropping money on expensive tickets for date number one.

What he hadn’t accounted for, when she had unsurprisingly suggested that they grab a bite to eat after the show at Sugarfish on 56th and Broadway, was that he’d spot, through the front window, Francesca walking down the sidewalk hand-in-hand with some guy, laughing with him as he told what were no doubt painfully lame attempts at jokes to try and impress her.

Jack’s blood ran cold, his jaw muscles flexing as he clenched his teeth together, his date still rambling on about her so-called career as a “business owner.” (See also: owner of an Instagram account where she posted regular thirst traps and tagged the brands she wore, unprompted. See also: a quasi-influencer. See also: a Kardashian wanna-be.) Which provided him the perfect opportunity to get lost in his own spiraling thoughts.

Granted, this restaurant wasn't that far from Fran’s apartment on 52nd, a fact which Jack was painfully aware of throughout the entirety of the show and the meal. But goddamn it… this city was filled with eight million people besides her and that dickhead guy, but they just happened to be the two who caught his gaze.

Which maybe wouldn’t have bothered Jack so much if it didn’t look like Fran was actually enjoying the guy’s company.

He slouched in his chair and spoke as few words as possible for the rest of the meal, and when it had finally, mercifully, ended, he called her an Uber, waited until she had gotten picked up, sulked to his car, and deleted her number.

___

July 21, 2023 – present day…

“Well? Can you?” Fran repeated, losing patience as she wondered where his mind had just wandered off to.

“Yeah, I can,” Jack said simply, deciding to lay all his cards on the table at the recall of the recent memory.

Fran’s head snapped toward him. Being that he was by far the most stubborn person she had ever known, she hadn’t expected him to fess up to that. Her mouth opened as she thought of what to say next, then closed it when nothing came to mind quickly enough.

“I can tell you exactly when I realized it, too,” Jack said with a smile devoid of humor, licking his lips – the very same lips she used to call home. “I saw you with some guy walking down 56th a few months ago. And it felt… fuck, it just felt like I was out of time.”

Francesca blinked repeatedly, confusion etched on her features. Though she knew who she would have been with that night, she didn’t even remember the exact instance he was referring to, so it obviously hadn’t left all that much of an impression upon her. But that’s not the information she wanted to inquire about.

“W-what do you mean, ‘out of time’?” she asked, her volume much lower now.

Jack met her with sad eyes, pursing his lips. He shrugged a shoulder.

��I dunno, I guess… I guess I was holding out hope that somehow, we’d work it out,” he replied, his voice suddenly sounding hoarse. “I just always thought it would be us in the end. But seeing you with someone new, I… I just lost that hope.”

Tears pricked at the backs of Fran’s eyelids and she looked away, swiping at her eyes with the side of her hand.

“There’s never been anyone else… I mean, not… not really,” she was suddenly saying, caught off guard that she was opening up so much. “That was the closest I got, but it was only for a few weeks, and he ended it because he said I was being distant. And he was right. I just, I wasn’t in it. Not at all.”

Jack watched her the entire time she spoke, then nodded slowly. He understood that feeling all too well.

“I get it,” he said softly. “Trust me.”

As the two of them let their respective admissions hang between them in the thick summer air, falling into a contemplative silence, unbeknownst to them, a tipsy Luke had made his way back to the open bar at the edge of the dancefloor, which was situated just inside the tall French doors leading to the venue’s back patio where his brother and Fran stood alone as the party raged on. Luke’s eyes never left the acrimonious pair as he ordered himself not one, but two more gin and tonics, then darted, drinks in hand, across the room to where his parents and Quinn sat at a table chatting.

“Luke Warren Hughes, you’d better slow down on the double fisting,” Ellen warned in her best mom voice.

Luke waved her off. “Yeah, whatever – guys, listen to me, this is important,” he urged, out of breath. “Jacky and Franny are outside by themselves talking.”

“What?!” Quinn exclaimed, jumping up from his chair so quickly and so forcefully that it would have tipped over if not for Jim’s quick reflexes, as he shook his head in disapproval. As he watched his eldest son jog to the same door Luke had just been standing near to peer through the panels for himself, Jim scoffed.

“You guys need to give them their privacy – they’ve been through enough,” he stated firmly.

“Yes, and you wouldn’t like it if your brothers were spying on you and a girl,” Ellen pointed out.

Luke swallowed a gulp of his cocktail and beamed.

“Yeah, but… it’s not just some girl. It’s Jack and Fran,” he declared, shaking his head in excited disbelief before following after his brother.

Having lost both their sons to espionage, Ellen and Jim’s eyes met, and they shared a knowing, hopeful smirk.

“It is Jack and Fran,” Jim repeated in a voice near a whisper, tipping the rim of his beer bottle toward his wife, who clinked it with her champagne glass.

“Cheers to that… no matter what happens,” she said softly.

Back outside, ignorant to the fact that they were being carefully watched, Jack was surprised when Fran breathed a laugh through her nose, finally breaking the silence. Her cheeks warmed at the memory replaying in her mind.

“Remember that first night we spent together, at your place in Hoboken? What we did after Miles made you spill that drink on me?” she asked, unaware that he had played those sacred scenes over in his mind hundreds if not thousands of times in the past two years just as she had, particularly when they were each alone in their beds in the dead of night.

“Of course I do,” he replied quietly. “It’s kinda… all I ever do. Well, that night and… a-and lots of other nights after that.” He caught her stare and somberly confessed, “I feel you no matter what.”

Fran took a few daring steps closer, her hand brushing his. She leaned in so close that her lips nearly grazed the shell of his ear.

“Do you wish you could still touch me, Jack?” she whispered, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on its end.

He slowly exhaled through pursed lips, trying and failing to steady his now-racing pulse.

“Every fuckin’ day, Fran,” he said with little hesitation, turning his head so that their noses were mere centimeters from each other.

“Is it too late to do something about it?” she asked, her eyes locked with his.

“With us?” he let out a singular chuckle. “It’s never too late with us, Fran.”

She smiled so wide it made her cheeks ache, and she ran a hand down the lapel of his jacket.

“Good, because you look really fuckin’ handsome, and I’ve been wanting to tell you that all night,” she said, her voice low and sultry.

He hummed appreciatively and nuzzled his nose against her temple.

“Funny you say that, because I’ve been wanting to tell you all night that I, uh… I like your dress,” he whispered, recycling the very first compliment he ever bestowed upon her before pressing a kiss to the skin just in front of her ear as she giggled, but the laughter died on her lips as Jack kissed a line from her ear, across her cheekbone, to the tip of her nose, to the corner of her mouth, and finally, to her eager lips, which matched the fervor and neediness of his own. It was as though the pain of the past six months melted away as they each attempted to demonstrate how deeply and passionately they had missed the other, hands in hair, chests flush, soft moans being captured by the other’s mouth…

But it wouldn’t be an important moment in Jack and Fran’s story if there weren’t loved ones meddling nearby.

Now it wasn’t only Luke and Quinn at the doors watching the marvelous scene unfold, but it was Matthew, and Ellie, and Taryn, and Robbie, and all the Fitzgerald kids, and Brady, and Emma. Someone pushed open one of the doors, flooding the patio with a cacophony of cheers and jeers from those closest to them.

“Get a room!” “Finally!” “Jack, this is a family wedding!” “Hand check!” “Oww owwww!”

God… embarrassing.

Reluctantly pulling away from the kiss, Jack growled, resting his forehead against Fran’s as she giggled nervously, before whipping his head toward their audience.

“Don’t you all have a wedding to get back to?” His head swiveled to Brady and Emma. “Especially you two?”

Brady shrugged. “Hey, we already had our kiss, man. You go ‘head,” he encouraged.

Emma giggled, one hand wrapped around her groom’s bicep as she swatted nonchalantly toward Jack and Fran with the other.

“Yeah, carry on. Don’t mind us!” she sang.

Jack rolled his eyes, but all inhibition and worry faded away as Fran grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down to meet her lips once more, feeling his frown literally turn upside down into a smirk as he sunk into her, hand finding a familiar home low on her back, dangerously close to the curve of her ass.

And at that, the crowd they’d drawn erupted into a fit of laughter and applause, Quinn and Luke in the middle of it all, pumping their fists simultaneously before clapping their palms together and leaning in for a hug.

They got their sister back.

“What are you kids doin’ over here?” came a booming voice from the back of the group. Jack and Fran watched as the seas parted and Keith Tkachuk made his way to the door, following his younger son’s pointed index finger to find the reunited couple embracing on the patio. His eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead.

“Well, can’t say I didn’t see this one coming!” he bellowed, a jolly twinkle in his eye. “Now, you boneheads have had your fun,” he addressed the group. “Leave these two to have their own.” With a wink, he turned away, and their crowd of clamoring cheerleaders dispersed, whispering animatedly among themselves.

Jack exhaled swiftly and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Shoutout Big Walt,” he declared, clearing his throat.

Fran nodded, snickering, and pulled him in by the waist.

“Gotta love ‘em, though, hmm?” she mused, nuzzling her nose against his.

“Mmm, yeah, whatever,” Jack dismissed, a tenacious hand on her cheek as he leaned down to press his lips to hers once again. “Now, where were we?” he teased in a whisper as she smiled against his mouth, her hands traveling beneath his suit jacket, across the familiar expanse of his sculpted back. His hands found their original target and slipped down the small of her back, finally reaching the arc of her rear.

“Mmmm… hello, old friend,” Jack murmured in her ear, earning him a playful smack to the hip.

“Shut up,” she sassed him, but she didn’t mean it, and they both knew it. He fixed his lips to hers over and over again, and though the party roared on inside, mere yards away, it was as if Jack and Fran were the only two people on the face of the earth, their bodies fusing together as if they had always been intended to be one.

It was always like that for the two of them.

Nothing could have pulled them from that moment… except the first strains of “Something in the Way She Moves” by James Taylor echoing from the speakers inside.

The pair froze. She pulled away to hold him at arm’s length, in utter disbelief.

Jack ogled at Fran, the pure longing in his eyes mirrored in hers. His siblings and friends were meddlers, sure… but had they been so thoughtful as to remember that this was their song — had been since that very first night? Or was it simply fate?

Either way, Jack could do nothing but extend his upturned palm toward her.

“Dance with me?” he asked softly.

Suddenly self-conscious, she smoothed a hand through her curls, then swiped at the damp corners of her eyes.

“God, Jack, I’m a mess,” she said with a halfhearted chuckle. “I don’t think I can go back in there right now.”

Jack shrugged. “So what?” he asked, taking hold of her hand and pulling her in, his other arm winding around her. “We’ll dance right here.”

She rested her free hand on his chest, melting at the sweet sentiment. Then, she relaxed into him, tucking her head into his neck where it fit perfectly — always had.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, then rested his cheek atop her head as the song carried on...

There's something in the way she moves Or looks my way, or calls my name That seems to leave this troubled world behind If I'm feeling down and blue Or troubled by some foolish game She always seems to make me change my mind And I feel fine anytime she's around me now She's around me now Almost all the time And if I'm well you can tell she's been with me now She's been with me now quite a long, long time And I feel fine…

Jack’s heart soared, his joy permanently etched on his face, as he swayed side to side with Francesca in his arms. In his wildest dreams, he could have never hoped to have her here with him again like this.

He glanced down at the girl he’d loved since the first time he’d laid eyes on her, saw her eyes fluttered closed in blissful contentment, and brushed his lips across her brow as he whispered, “Fran, you know for me, it’s always you, right?”

He watched the corners of her mouth pull upward even further, and she tipped her face up to meet his.

“I hoped so,” she admitted roguishly. “Because for me, it’s always you, too.”

#the summer fic exchange 2k23 #my writing #jack hughes #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes fanfiction

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