summary: "pregnant. pregnant. pregnant." - or - the one where honey just couldn't be anymore pregnant.
word count: 4.1k
honey learned fairly early in life that the universe could be unusually cruel.
it explained why she was an only child. why her mother died of glioblastoma. why her father, as if he couldn’t bear the shape of the world without her in it, followed not long after. loss seemed to stalk her; quick and merciless. as if it were seeking payment for sins she must’ve committed in another life. her mother once called her god’s strongest soldier.
but honey always wanted to ask why?
why must she be his strongest?
what if she was tired of being the only one who had to take it?
and now, staring down at an unfamiliar pink stick in her trembling hand, she could only think this had to be another cruel joke.
some sort of punishment. tailored. precise. personal. crafted just for her. because of course this would happen like this. a part of her couldn’t really believe it.
after slipping out of jack’s apartment the second the pale morning light broke through his blinds, she stopped at CVS on the walk back to her apartment with knots in her stomach. of course she had bought a plan b with numb fingers as she prayed to a god she wasn’t sure she believed in.
she prayed, please, just this once. for the universe to leave her alone. spare her.
don’t let a ghost of her past plant himself into her uncertain future.
and yet,
pregnant. pregnant. pregnant.
one test could’ve been a fluke, two could’ve been just her bad luck. but six was a message.
a loud and clear one.
two pink lines. a tiny blue cross. a glaring red line.
every damn brand was saying the same, questionable, impossible thing. she couldn’t be more pregnant if she fucking tried. and everything from the last couple of days clicked into place with a sickening, nausea-inducing ache. the sharp pain in her chest, the way coffee suddenly made her gag, the constant trips to the bathroom, the exhaustion.
oh, yeah.
and her missed period she had waved off because stress had littered her life. the move back to jersey, starting her new job, and pretending she wasn’t quietly losing her mind felt like enough explanation for everything.
but it clearly wasn’t stress.
it clearly wasn’t just in her head.
she was fucking pregnant.
a knock at the door yanked her back to earth.
right.
because she wasn’t alone.
sadie and eleanor were outside, hands wrapped around the nicest wine glasses she owed, because, naturally, they didn’t understand the concept of leaving honey alone when something was wrong. and usually, she loved them for that. easily one of their most redeeming qualities.
usually.
“honey?” sadie’s voice floated through the door. “please come out. you’re starting to really scare us.”
there was a pause. and then faint whispering.
is she crying?
i can’t tell.
oh my god, what if she, like, killed herself in there?
dude, no way she’s even pregnant. she’s been practically celibate for years.
honey closed her eyes.
she had been celibate. up until her little run in with jack fucking hughes after the devils lost the first round of the playoffs. she really couldn’t get any stupider.
“i didn’t kill myself, idiots.” she muttered flatly through the door. “just pregnant.”
silence consumed them in the small of her hallway and bathroom.
then a sharp inhale.
when she opened the door, both girls stared at her like she might dissolve if they blinked too hard. she looked almost normal, which felt offensive somehow. no dramatic mascara tracks. no fistfuls of hair torn out. just her pale skin, puffy cheeks, and six stupid pregnancy tests.
“oh my god, honey,” eleanor breathed, voice cracking as her hand flew over her mouth.
sadie didn’t say anything at first. because she wasn’t good at offering verbal comfort but she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around honey like it was instinct. honey grimaced immediately. the floral accents of sadie’s perfume hit her full force - disgustingly sweet and heavy - her stomach twisted. she didn’t know what was harder; the urge to pull away or try not to throw up on one of her best friends.
eleanor, standing two feet away, had fresh tears already gathering in her eyes.
“congratudolences?” she offered weakly, a dry laugh ending her sentence.
honey pulled back from sadie enough to get a breath of fresh air, face blank in that eerie way it got when she had just too much on her mind. almost as if her body had shown up, but her mind was still stuck inside of that bathroom. staring down at six different positive pregnancy tests.
“why are you crying?” honey asked, voice flat. “you aren’t the pregnant one, eleanor.”
it wasn’t mean. not really. not to them at least.
eleanor sniffled, long hands rising to pat her cheeks.
“why are you not crying?”
the question alone made honey look away. “i don’t know.”
and it was the honest truth. but it didn’t make sense. honey was the biggest crybaby to grace this earth. she cried at videos of senior dogs getting adopted. she cried over lonely old people in grocery stores. she cried at songs if they caught her on the wrong day. for god’s sake, she cried during children’s movies. this should’ve destroyed her. it should’ve cracked her wide open and left her sobbing on the cold tile of the bathroom floor. but it didn’t.
instead, all she felt was this weird, suspending numbness.
her body could only process one catastrophe at a time, and this one was shelved for later. maybe the universe had tipped too far right. maybe it had run out of ways to shock her. sadie, unusually quiet, looked between them both.
“how are you feeling?”
honey snickered sarcastically.
what kind of question was that?
logically, her only response was pregnant.
but she bit her tongue.
instead, sadie took her by the wrist and guided her gently towards the couch like she was afraid honey would float away if she happened to let go.
“i don’t know,” honey admitted softly.
both girls hummed in that helpless, uncertain way when they didn’t know what to say but loved and adored you enough to stay regardless.
it was what honey had called the ‘funeral hum.’
they fell into a comfortable silence, as if they were all weighing out their possible options here. after a moment, honey rubbed at her temples and said, “i know i need to schedule an appointment.”
both girls nodded, mouths opened to ask questions but honey beat them to it. and, then quieter, as if she was ashamed to say it, “and i have to tell the father of this thing inside of me.”
eleanor blinked, head tilting,” do you… know who the father is?”
a shiver ran down honey’s spine.
of course she knew. her life wasn’t some cheesy rom-com where she blacked out at a club and stumbled into a mystery pregnancy.
she knew exactly who the father way and somehow that made it worse.
“i do,” she groaned, hands coming to rub at her puffy face.
“who is it?” sadie practically whispered to the ghost in honey’s apartment.
honey stared at the coffee table, “jack.”
jack?
jack who?
“jack espinal?” sadie guessed first. “from high school? the one playing for cincinnati?”
“jack sullivan? the weirdly hot office nerd?” eleanor added.
the mere thought made honey groan.
“we know a lot of jacks,” sadie defended weakly.
then it clicked.
and it was evident in the way her eyes widened, pupils nearly dilated and jaw dropped.
“oh my fucking god,” she whispered.
“jack hughes?”
eleanor screeched, “honey!”
and it made her wince.
“you hooked up with jack hughes and didn’t tell us?” eleanor pushed at honey, nearly pushing her off the couch.
“not the first time,” honey shrugged.
“not the first time!” eleanor slapped a hand to her heart. “what do you mean?!”
and that’s how eleanor and sadie ended up spending the rest of that sunday on honey’s couch, wine glasses in hand, listening in horrified fascination as she explained the great and tragic love story of jack hughes and y/n l/n.by the end of it, eleanor was devastated and sadie looked like she had come across the juiciest and saddest fan fiction written by a devastating sixteen-year old at the peak of wattpad.
“okay,” sadie said carefully after a while of lingering silence between them.
“what’s the game plan? do you want to keep it?”
it.
the question hit honey a little harder than expected.
keep it.
not a pregnancy. not a baby. it was just an it. a small, ugly and selfish part of her appreciated that. it made the decision less enormous.
it made her feel less human.
but the truth was, she had thought about it.
the first time she threw up, the idea of pregnancy had haunted her. but motherhood hadn’t. because those were not the same thing. not even close. if - no, when - she told jack and he wanted nothing to do with this, her and this baby growing inside of her - she’d be okay.
because she had to be. eleanor’s mom raised three kids on her own and somehow produced functional human-beings. for the most part. honey had built a life surrounded by loss, sharp corners and doing things herself. she knew how to survive without anyone. she’d done it for years now. she didn’t need jack’s money. didn’t even need his name on a paper. didn’t need a man to make a life happen for her. if she kept this tiny little thing growing inside of her, she would do it alone. because she could.
still, there was a quiet, embarrassing part of her - soft and old-fashioned like her parents once had been - that had once imagined marriage, children, a shared life with someone and a white picket fence. but she refused to look too closely at that part.
because love was dangerous and unpredictable. that was something she had learned young. so, she buried it once again.
“i’ll decide after the appointment,” honey said finally.
“i scheduled it.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
“confirmed, ladies,” honey sighed into her phone, standing outside of her doctor’s office. “a thousand and one percent definitely pregnant.”
eleanor snorted through the speaker. “no fucking shit, sherlock. you couldn’t tell by the way those tests practically combusted the second you peed on them?” her tone was airy and light, laced in the sort of humor that always made honey laugh.
and despite everything, she smiled a little bit. not because this was funny, because it sure as hell was not. but it was a little bit.
“how far along?” sadie asked.
“five-ish weeks. approximate due date is january twentieth.”
“oh my god!” sadie shrieked. “another aquarius in the group!” honey dragged her phone away from her ear with a slight wince.
“do you know what you’re doing?” eleanor’s voice was gentlier this time around.
honey sat on a park bench, perfectly in the middle of her house and her doctor’s office. it was sweet, the sun was out, the birds were chirping and to her left was a playground littered with little kids no older than four.
“i scheduled a prenatal ultrasound. so… i guess i’m keeping the lentil-sized creature in my womb.”
saying it out loud made her dizzy. like this sentence and this life belonged to someone maybe a little more deserving. like any minute a nurse would come hunt her down and utter apologies.
our bad, we mixed up the results. you’re not pregnant. just insane. we recommend the psychiatrist on the other side of the park!
but nobody came. nobody called with bad news. it was true. for now.
“yay!” eleanor said, her voice already going watery. “our threesome becomes a foursome!”
honey giggled, the kind of giggle that was true and sweet, that came from the bottom of her heart.
“yeah. i guess so.”
“you haven’t cried yet, have you?” sadie muttered knowingly.
“nope.”
“get ready, honey,” eleanor started. “because the second you tell jack, you’re gonna become a sobbing hormonal disaster.”
honey groaned, “yeah. i know, i know.”
“i’ll text you his address,” sadie said. “not far from your complex.”
for one stupid, blissful empty second; honey forgot. forgot that jack existed. forgot that he was the father. forgot that she had to walk up to his stupid apartment and break the news to him.
she could’ve texted him. she should’ve texted him.
hey, we need to talk. hi, how are you? i’m pregnant. hello, surprise?
she could also call him but that just felt wrong.
cowardly. disingenuous.
and honey was a lot of things but that.
and so, she walked to his apartment with both hands clenched so tightly together her knuckles turned white. she had walked herself through fifteen different ways this conversation could’ve gone.
in some, he was cold. in one, kind. in others, there was a blonde girl in one of his t-shirts.
she pressed the doorbell before she could lose the nerve. with a hand clutched tightly around the strap of her purse, nausea creeped up in her throat. some sick and twisted part of her hoped and prayed there was another girl in there. one that almost looked like her and she’d just nod and walk away.
raise a hughes’ baby all on her own while it’s father fucked bitches in every state while flinging pucks into tiny nets.
movement sounded from the inside.
“i’m coming!” jack called.
“luke, i swear to god, if you forgot your passport again.”
and her stomach dropped because
oh, fuck. oh, fuck. oh, fuck.
the door opened. and there he was.
jack in all his off-season glory - messy hair, oversized and faded t-shirt from high school and grey sweats that clearly didn’t belong to him. but upon opening the door, his face shifted from annoyed to stunned in half a second.
“h-honey?”
“hi,” she smiled awkwardly, voice soft and shaky. “are you busy?”
his eyes flickered over her face, then down to the death grip on her purse, and then back up to her.
“not really, no.” he stepped aside so fast he nearly tripped over himself. “come in?”
she slipped past him, suddenly hyperaware of every little thing. how clean his apartment was with a suitcase lingering at a door, how familiar it smelled, how much nicer it was than the first one she vaguely remembered from years ago and how loudly her own pulse thudded in her eyes.
“do you need anything?” he asked a little too quickly. “water? something to drink?”
he was already halfway in the kitchen and she followed because standing awkwardly felt impossible.
“do you have ginger ale?”
“yeah. yeah, always.”
ugh, of course he did.
he moved around the kitchen with an awkward energy she didn’t recognize. almost as if showing up unannounced threw his world off its axis.
well, it was only gonna get worse.
“sorry,” she said quietly. “i should’ve called. or texted. or given some kind of warning. i’m sorry.” jack leaned against the counter, waving her off. “it’s okay. i’m not doing much anyways.”
he meant it casually, but she caught the edge of it anyways. his season was over, way too early and all he got out of it was some half-assed hook-up with her.
“what’s up?” he asked, softly. then, his expression shifted. “are you okay?”
honey physically stiffened at that.
the worst part about this whole thing was that he could still read her. years later, after all that time apart, hundreds upon hundreds of miles, and one look at her face and he fucking knew something was wrong. she hated it.
most importantly, she hated how much she loved it.
“i just..” she wrapped both hands around the glass to prevent herself from shaking so much. “i wanted to tell you in person because you deserve to know. and i don’t want anything from you. much less need. i don’t expect anything from you either.”
that made his eyebrows pull together, “honey, what the fuck are you-”
“i’m pregnant.”
silence. absolute ringing silence.
the words hit him and passed right through him before circling around and doing the same thing over and over again. his face went blank with shock, all possible color drained. but honey kept talking because if she stopped, she’d never start again.
i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i’m not trying to trap you, if that’s what you think. i can do this on my own, i don’t need you. you just deserved to know.
“what?”
and honey finally looked up.
he sounded wrecked. not angry. not cold. just completely and utterly stunned.
“i’m pregnant, jack.” and her voice cracked in a way that used to break him. “and if you want nothing to do with it, that’s fine. i’ll walk out of here and you’ll never have to see me again, so help me god-”
“honey,” his voice was shaky now too.
“slow down.”
“i’m pregnant,” she repeated, much louder this time, tears finally burning at her eyes.
“with your kid.”
“w-well yeah,” he said automatically, looking like his own brain had betrayed him.
“i-i got that part, y/n. just-”
he dragged a hand over his face and honey could see him physically trying to catch up. after a few awful minutes, they sat at his kitchen island while she explained.
a crumbled CVS receipt where she had bought the plan b. her missed period. the nausea. the six tests. the confirmation from the doctor.
her thin, shaky hands slid over a few pieces of paper. “plan b’s only work if you haven’t ovulated,” she stated, finger tapping the highlighted notes of her appointment. “apparently, i was, like, at peak ovulation.”
jack gave a short, disbelieving huff of laughter. not because it was funny, really. well, it was a little bit. not really though but it was.
“there’s stuff in there about next steps,” she added. “and paternity testing, if that’s something you want.”
“do i need one of those?” he asked, eyes wide as he looked up from the papers.
honey blinked, “what? no, i just asked because… i don’t know. in case you wanted one.”
jack was almost offended at the idea, but he continued to stare back down at the packet. truthfully, he didn’t know what half of it meant. every now and then some test result screamed positive in his face. silence settled over the kitchen, it wasn’t empty. it was heavy. alive almost. stretching dangerously thin amongst their shoulders.
finally, honey asked, very small, “so…what do you want me to do?”
jack lifted his head, it took him a second to answer. “it’s not my decision to make, honey. you know that.”
and that, that was what broke her. her shoulders caved and her bottom lip wobbled in a way jack hadn’t seen in years. he was right. he was being kind and every part of her being had braced for a cruelty so hard that simply decency felt unbearable. one second she was holding herself together and then the next she was crying so quietly it was worse than if she’d sob. something in his chest twisted hard.
because he had imagined it, once. many moons ago, a life with her. not vaguely or some immature fantasy. something real, something feasible.
a house. three kids; a boy and two girls.
summers in michigan with quinn and luke and their future families tangled up together. chaos and laughter.
and in the middle, his sweet honey stood.
but this was the farthest from the truth, now she was here. standing in his kitchen, pregnant with his baby, crying like she was apologizing for merely breathing.
oh, my sweet honey.
jack moved around the island before he thought way too hard about it, resting a calloused hand on the small of her back. “i’m gonna support you in whatever you decide.”and that made honey cry harder. it all came gushing out - every second of numbness, every attempt at holding herself together, every horrible iteration of this conversation. she hated herself, just a little bit. so raw and so exposed. sobbing in the arms of a man who had haunted her past and somehow cemented himself as the father of her child.
stupid sadie was right, she should’ve cried before coming over.
but it was way too late now.
jack didn’t say much while she cried. he just stayed there. a warm hand on her back and watched sobs wreck themselves through her. after a while, she dragged in a breath that scraped her throat on the way in and looked up at him with her stupid wet lashes and blotchy red cheeks.
“i think..” she started but paused. “i think i want to keep it.”
jack’s face changed. it wasn’t fear nor regret. something steadier, softer around the edges.
“okay.”
honey swallowed, “and if you don’t want to help. that’s fine. really. i expect nothing from you.”
and that did it for jack. his expression pulled into a scowl, “what? no.” her eyebrows pinched together in confusion. despite his warmth and kindness, she was bracing for the absolute worst. “no,” he repeated, voice firm. “i’m helping.”
“jack please-”
“i got you into this mess too,” his voice was turned into that low and earnest tone that made her chest ache. “you’re not doing this alone.”
honey just stared at him. and he kept going. “i’m not ditching you for hockey,” he said. “and i’m not ditching hockey either. it’ll be hard and messy but..”
he took a deep breath. “we’ll figure it out.”
we.
the words landed between them with a strange and impossible softness.
we meant him. and her. and the tiny lentil-sized life neither of them had planned.
“i-i don’t wanna hold you back,” she whispered. “or tie you to me.”
and he laughed, in a way that made his chest ache.
tie him to her?
as if there’s a universe out there where he isn’t tied to her. as if he hadn’t been so hopelessly tethered to her for years already. “that doesn’t matter, honey.” and maybe at this moment, it didn’t but it very well could in the future.
“we’ll take it day by day. week by week. co-parenting.”
right, co-parenting.
as if things between them weren’t murky and complicated, adding a baby to the mix wasn’t the smartest idea.
for a second, neither of them spoke. the kitchen was too quiet while the outside world kept moving. cars passed, someone’s dog barked, kids giggled out in the hallway but inside this apartment, everything felt suspended.
things had changed. they weren’t fixed. they weren’t magically easy.
they had just changed.
“who have you told?” jack asked.
“oh. uh- just sadie and eleanor,” she muttered, hand picking at her nails.
jack hummed but visibly stiffened. “sadie’s gonna keep her mouth shut. if this…”using her hands, she motioned vaguely between them. “... gets out, i already got a lecture on the possible headlines.”
new jersey devils’ dumped from the play-offs all thanks to jack’s pregnant girlfriend? situationship? co-parent?
jack hughes impregnating women left and right! who’s next? you?
honey physically shivered, almost feeling the weight of new jersey on her shoulders. jack simply nodded. he looked conflicted, like there were way too many thoughts in his head. his voice was steady, measured in an almost calculated way. “look, i’m not done freaking the fuck out about this,” he stated. “but whatever it is you chose to do, i’ll support you.”
before her eyes, jack had grown. physically, a lot but mentally, so much more than she had truthfully expected. because his panic took the form of silence. clearly what she did not possess.
“the whole nine months? or…?”
the question made his eyes roll, her knack for asking stupid and oblivious questions had simply not gone away. it was oddly comforting.
“the whole eighteen-years. however long. i had two parents growing up. so did you. i want our kid to have two parents as well.”
the words sat heavy in honey’s chest.
our kid.
and then she found herself asking another ‘stupid question, “did you always see yourself having kids?”
with me?
the question stunned jack but his answer came with no pause. “yeah, eventually. at some point in my life.”
summary: "you two know each other?" "something like that" - or - the one where jack just happens to run into his old situationship twice within a few months.
word count: 4.8k
jack hughes could not help but feel accomplished.
this was it.
this was exactly what he had worked for his entire life.
years of blood, sweat, and tears. early mornings at the rink while the rest of the world was still asleep. restless nights spent skating in cities that blurred together. the countless ups and downs. expectations. the pressure that never really let up.
it all led him here.
the job wasn’t done - not even close but for once, jack let himself sit in the glow of a win that followed one of the most mediocre road trips of the season.
he deserved that much.
right?
it was one of those wins that left his skin buzzing long after he hopped off the ice, the kind that lodged itself deep within his ribs and stayed there; warm, fuzzy, and electric. so. maybe that’s why he ended up at a bar with the rest of the team, riding the high of scoring the OT winner. the place was packed with the exact kind of post-game energy they craved - loud and reckless.
music pounded through the walls, the bass vibrating through the floor beneath his white sneakers. glasses clinked and people shouted over one another. laughter spilled from every corner of the room. the whole place reeked of beer, expensive cologne, and fried bar food.
luke was off in some corner with his head tipped back like he didn’t have a care in the world because if jack had to guess, he was trying to charm his way into the blonde sitting to his left. a couple of rookies had drifted towards the bar a while ago, leaning against the counter with a confidence that could overturn the world as they pretended to - and failed miserably at - not staring at the cute bartender. the rest of the team was scattered, half-hidden in sticky booths or crowded around tall tables. every few minutes, jack would hear his name or have a drunk grin thrown his way. a slap on the shoulder. another drink offered his way.
and still, beneath it all, there was this other feeling.
this distance.
like it was some invisible pane of glass between him and the rest of the world.
maybe it was because moments like these just gave him too much room to think. for as much as he tried to throw himself into the chaos of it all, he always seemed to hover just at the edge. he’d jump from table to table, turning down shots, nursing the same whiskey and coke he had been holding for over an hour.
at some point, sadie - the devils’ PR manager - wandered over with a paloma in hand and a smile too bright. she was easy to talk to in ways most of the organization was not. she never pushed too hard and filled silences jack usually left hanging. she was nice and funny and sweet.
though, not remotely his type.
more quinn’s speed, maybe.
he should text his brother and set something up. it might fix the permanent stick up his ass.
“you know,” sadie started, tilting her glass towards him, “you’re awfully sober for someone who scored the OT winner.”
jack laughed under his breath. “i’m alright, just getting older. hangovers last, like, three business days now.”
the redheaded girl narrowed her eyes. “get the fuck out. we are the same age, dude.”
her fist landed against his arm with no real force behind it.
it probably hurt her more than it hurt him.
jack could only shrug.
it was easier to joke about random shit than it was to talk about the emptiness that always showed up once the buzz started to fade. he could score a hundred overtime winners and it would still come back eventually, settling around his throat like a hand he could never quite shake off.
he had no reason to feel that way.
he had everything he had ever wanted.
“not the first time i’ve seen you pout into your disgusting coke,” sadie said with a grimace before taking a sip of her sweet drink.
jack rolled his eyes and lifted his glass, “i’m not pouting. i’m a grown man.”
she looked at him for a moment, like she knew there was more he was not saying, but she let him keep it. that was another thing he liked about her, she didn’t pry more than she had to.
“well, for what it’s worth. that shot of yours? it was pretty,” she said with a shrug.
jack gave her an odd look, “pretty shot?”
“yeah. super sick or whatever. definitely getting its own instagram post tomorrow morning.”
he rolled his eyes for what had to be the fifteenth time that night. “yeah, i’m sure.”
his gaze drifted back over the crowd. his teammates were still loud, glowing, still caught up in a happiness that kept the future from creeping in.
jack envied that a bit.
“oh, hey!” sadie said suddenly, straightening in her seat. “remember that friend i told you about?”
he groaned, “i don’t want to date your friend, sadie. hand her off to quinn. he needs it more than i do.”
sadie had been on a mission the last couple of months, bringing up this mysterious friend of hers whenever she got the chance. according to her; she was sweet, worked in marketing for the NFL, and had just moved from edmonton, canada. jack trusted sadie’s judgment but that wasn’t the point.
he just didn’t want it.
not right now.
then, just as quickly, his attention caught on something - well, more like someone - across the room.
everything went blurry around the edges.
at the entrance of the bar, stood someone he knew.
well, he used to know.
the room was too dark, too loud and for a second, he could not tell if his mind was playing some cruel trick on him.
“my sweet honey!” sadie’s voice snapped him right out of it
and his stomach dropped.
no.
no fucking way.
he watched as sadie hurried across the room, her paloma sloshing over the rim of the glass as she weaved through the clusters of people near the door.
it couldn’t fucking be.
but then she laughed.
and jack knew.
he could spot that laugh anywhere. it haunted his dreams.
soft. sweet. familiar enough that it knocked something loose in his chest before his brain has the time to catch up.
y/n l/n.
she looked so painfully out of place, like something far too gentle for the city had wandered into the wrong room by accident.
jack looked away the second she lifted her head.
as if staring too long would make her disappear.
or worse - make her real.
his fingers tightened around his watered-down drink.
this had to be some kinda joke.
because y/n was not supposed to be here. not after all these years. not after he had spent so long trying to bury her somewhere deep enough that even he couldn’t reach her anymore.
maybe that had always been the problem.
she had never truly been buried.
she lived in the quiet spaces of his life.
in the late nights after bad losses. in the long flights where sleep wouldn’t come. in the hollow ache that followed even his best of moments.
she was the place in him that nobody else ever got to touch or see.
and now she was here.
real. breathing.
a few feet away from him.
his chest went tight.
should he leave? pretend he had not seen her? should he walk over and say hi like nothing had ever happened? ask how she’d been? ask when she moved back? ask if she was seeing someone? married? maybe had some kids and a white picket fence?
his throat dried out before he could really settle on anything.
“jacky!”
oh.
oh, fuck.
his head snapped up before he gave it much thought. sadie stood there grinning like she hadn’t detonated something in the center of his chest.
and besides her -
y/n.
her fingers picked at the chipped maroon polish on her nails. she looked older obviously, but in a way that only made her prettier.
softer yet sharper all at once.
it had been four?
no, five years.
maybe a little more.
jack looked older too. broader. harder around the edges.
yet, his face still held that same softness it did when he looked at a nineteen-year old y/n.
she was so beautiful.
fuck.
it made his heart jitter.
“jack,” sadie started brightly, “this is my fri-”
“y/n.” he cut in before he could stop himself.
he knew exactly who she was.
inside and out.
y/n’s head lifted sharply at the sound of her name in his mouth, and for a second all the color in her face drained.
“j-jack,” her voice catch itself in her throat.
sadie blinked, head tilting like a confused golden retriever. “oh my god! you two know each other?”
did they know each other?
of course they did.
the phrase alone felt too small for whatever they had been.
“something like that,” y/n murmured.
jack kept his eyes on her, on the way the shock settled over her features like she still couldn’t quite believe he was real and sitting in front of her.
“well great!” sadie exclaimed, completely oblivious. “i’ll leave you two to catch up. i gotta make sure the rookies don’t go home with any mildly attractive bartenders. that would not be good for my job.”
and just like that, she was gone. the silence she left behind was immediate and awful.
what were you supposed to say to someone you hadn’t seen in years?
hi? hello?
how are you?
what are you doing back here?
did you ever think about me?
do you think about us too?
“do you want something to drink?” jack asked finally.
to which she looked up, “uh - sure. please, actually.”
so, he flagged down the bartender.
“vodka cran, right?” he asked, softer now.
she only nodded.
yet, the stupid insignificant gesture made her heart pitter patter against her chest.
five minutes later, the drink was in front of her, and y/n had slid onto the stool besides him.
“t-thanks,” she said.
jack took a sip of his drink; though by now it tasted like watered down whiskey and anxiety.
“so,” he cleared his throat. “how are you?”
y/n promptly choked on her drink and it was ridiculous how familiar it was. so small, so stupid, and somehow it snuffed him right in the chest.
“fuck-sorry,” she coughed, a small hand pressing lightly into her chest.
his hands moved before his brain did, hovering near the small of her back before he thought better of it and pushed a napkin forward instead.
“i’m okay,” she started softly. yet, it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than him.
then she looked at him, “how are you?”
the question rang strangely through his ears, mainly because he wasn’t sure he knew the answer to it. “i’m okay too,” he said after a second. “busy.”
y/n nodded and wrapped her fingers around her straw. “i didn’t know you worked with sadie. well, she technically works for you,” she said with a quiet, awkward laugh.
jack smiled before he could stop himself. “she started working for our PR team about a year? and a half ago? i didn’t know she was your friend.”
“oh, yeah! we’ve been friends since high school!”
jack hummed, watching the way she popped her fingers just like she did so many years ago. “how long you in town for?”
the simple question made her straight up. “oh. uh - i just moved back.”
and something in jack’s expression changed.
“really?”
to which she nodded, “yeah. i got a job in marketing for the NFL. mostly remote but they offered more if i moved to jersey as long as i can go into their new york office a couple times a week.”
jack couldn’t help but smile.
“that’s great, honey.”
the nickname slipped out before he could stop.
stupid idiot.
his jaw tightened and the headache started as he braced himself for her to flinch at it.
but she didn’t.
she smiled, so sweetly and a little startled with a faint flush of rose in her cheeks.
“thank you, jack”
the human heart was a stupid thing.
because, logically.
they both knew better.
y/n shouldn’t have been there, sharing drinks with him like she had never left. jack shouldn’t have been there, memorizing every laugh she gave him like he hadn’t spent years erasing it from his heart. but logic had never done much for either of them where the other was concerned. he cleared his throat and shifted on the stool, stirring his drink just to have something to do with his hands.
“how are you liking jersey again?”
the question was simple but it made her shiver.
“i’m living out of a suitcase until i can find an apartment,” she shrugged halfheartedly.
he nodded, and a second later she yawned.
jack smiled faintly, “tired?”
“a little,” she admitted. “i’ve been apartment hunting all day. it’s hell.”
“sounds awful.” he paused, “where are you staying?”
“the hilton a few blocks from here,” she yawned again, hand slipping from her now-empty vodka cran.
jack didn’t hesitate and set his glass down. “come on. i’ll walk you.”
y/n knew she should’ve said no. tell him it was fine, it’s not that far. his team was still scattered around the bar and he should stay.
but old habits die hard.
so. fucking hard.
and when he held his hand out for her, she found out she still didn’t know how to refuse him.
outside, january in new jersey hit them all at once. it was cold and sharp, dry enough to steal the breath from her lungs. the noise from the bar dulled behind them as they walked, until all that was left was the faint sound of traffic and the rhythmic tap of their footsteps.
y/n got as far as rubbing her hands together before jack was shrugging off his jacket.
it was a little big for him but ten-times warmer than whatever she had thrown on before leaving.
“jack, i’m fi-”
“take it,” he said, draping it over her shoulders before she could really argue.
“you can give it back next time i see you.”
and the words hung between them.
next time.
a casual assumption. a quiet hope.
maybe even both.
she looked at him for a second, maybe he would take it back and walk away but he didn’t. slipping her arms into the sleeve, the jacket was still warm from him. reeked of his cologne, cold air, and something achingly familiar she refused to examine too closely.
“did you know sadie was trying to set me up with you?” he asked.
y/n burst into a fit of surprised giggled. “no shot!”
jack shoved his hands into his pockets against the cold.
“she kept telling me about this sweet friend of hers who worked in marketing and just moved here.”
“she told me she had some hockey player in mind for me,” she smiled. “never said who.”
for a while, neither of them said much. they walked side by side, close enough their shoulders almost brushed every few steps but never quite. it felt a little strange, how easy silence should’ve been but how heavy it lingered.
“you seem good,” she said softly, eyes fixed on the sidewalk ahead.
“you seem better,” jack glanced over at her.
“most days,” she shrugged.
by the time they reached the hotel, the walk had felt both too long and nowhere near short enough.
“i guess this is me,” she muttered quietly.
jack stopped in front of her and smiled.
“you look older,” she giggled.
older looked good on him. it had sharpened him a bit, made him steadier somehow. but there was still something stupidly boyish in his face when he looked at her for too long. almost as if time hadn’t touched the version of him she once knew.
“you look older.”
jack laughed, running a hand through his wind ruffled hair. “yeah?”
and her heart did that stupid little stumble.
“you do too.”
“in a good way or bad way?”
the air shifted between them. “good. really good,” jack whispered but the wind carried it.
suddenly, it all felt too short.
like maybe the universe had a sick and twisted sense of humor after all where it gave them back to each other for long enough to remember it and want it deeply.
whatever it was.
“it was nice to see you, jack.” her voice was small and soft, sweet in a way only he had known.
his mouth tipped into something softer than a smile. “it was nice seeing you, honey.”
there it was again.
honey.
as if no time had ever passed.
y/n looked down for a second, shamefully, to gather herself. “i, um - i wanted to call. or text. but i just wasn’t sure if you still had the same number.
maybe it was an excuse. maybe it was the truth. maybe a little bit of both.
“same number.”
he nodded once, but he didn’t move. didn’t say goodbye either. he just stood there, memorizing every last tiny detail of her face as if she were to disappear into thin air.
“thanks for walking me.”
“yeah, of course.”
silence fell between them once again. however, it felt fragile this time around. her fingers tightened into the sleeves of his jacket.
“i’ll see you around, jack.”
his eyes stayed on hers; soft, almost loving.
“yeah. see you around, honey.”
with that, she stepped away and gave him once last wave before stepping back towards the hotel doors. and he stood there until she disappeared through the lobby and out of his sight. heart heavy with something he couldn’t name.
was it hope?
hope that she wouldn’t disappear again?
once inside, y/n didn’t even realize she was crying until her fingertips brushed the swell of her cheeks.
stupid.
stupid, stupid, stupid.
stupid because the second sadie and eleanor found out, neither of them would let her live it down. and stupid because the universe had a funny way of working.
if it didn’t want you to see somebody, you simply wouldn’t. not until it decided the timing was cruel enough to matter.
so, jack didn’t see y/n.
y/n didn’t see jack.
not again until the devils lost the first round of the playoffs to the hurricanes, an overtime loss that ended the series and sent new jersey home earlier than anyone had expected.
it was the next day.
april.
a different bar across town.
jack wasn’t usually the kind of person to dwell on losses. early on, hockey taught him to move on. there was always another game, another practice, another chance to improve. he had lost before, more times than he cared to count.
but this one lingered a little heavier.
it lodged itself beneath his ribs and didn’t budge.
so, he sat at the bar with his hand curled around his third? or was it fourth - whiskey and coke. luke had been beside him a few minutes ago, but now he was halfway across the room playing darts with a few of the guys. their laughs echoed deliberately - in that way people did when they were trying not to think too hard.
truthfully, jack barely noticed any of it.
but he didn’t need to have eyes on the back of his head to see y/n walk in because he felt it. felt it in the way the air shifted and his chest tightened before his mind could catch up. it was a sudden awareness that settled over him like a hand against the back of his neck.
“didn’t peg you as the sulking type.” her voice was soft, almost velvet against the harsh noise of the bar.
jack turned.
she stood to the right of him with one hand wrapped around a tall glass of vodka cran while the other tugged absentmindedly at the hem of her black skirt. her hair was a little windblown from the outside, cheeks flushed a brighter pink and eyes brighter than he remembered.
and he realized how dangerous this was going to be.
“you look like some brooding, tortured athlete. it’s really not your best look, hughes," she added, mouth twitching.
a laugh slipped out of him before he could really stop himself.
it was low and tired.
“well, losing in the first round does that to a guy.” but his words lacked bite.
because it was y/n.
somehow, with her, everything in him softened.
she slid onto the stool beside him, angling towards him like it was the easiest thing. like they hadn’t spent years as ghosts in each other’s lives.
“what are you doing here?” his voice was honest, surprised and a little in disbelief.
“sadie invited eleanor and i,” she said. “apparently she needs some reinforcements while keeping twenty professional athletes from self-destructing in public.”
“sounds about right,” he laughed, almost sarcastically.
y/n smiled.
because really what kind of reinforcements could she possibly be?
jack stared for a second too long, like he was trying to decipher if she was truly real or not. had the drinks gotten to him or was it the gloomy cloud that hung over his head?
“you staying long?” he asked.
she shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. “depends how quickly i get bored.”
“what? am i boring to you now?”
she laughed, a genuine laugh that came from the bottom of her being.
they fell into conversation after that, easy in a way that shouldn’t have been because of the amount of time spent apart. they talked a little bit about everything and nothing, the way two grown adults did when they were drifting around from what actually mattered because the drinks were too good to stop.
work.
new jersey.
edmonton.
sadie.
somehow luke came up.
but beneath it all, under every toothy smile and every half-teasing comment, there was that same quiet pull that entangled them at nineteen.
it was sweet and dangerous and unfinished. it got easier, after a while.
the drinks helped, of course. or they just made it harder to pretend that pull didn’t exist.
“come on,” jack said finally, rolling his shoulders back as he stood.
“w-where are we going?” she blinked up at him.
“outside. there’s a patio. it’s nice. you’d like it,” he muttered, finger pointing towards the back.
you’d like it.
such a simple, stupid and little sentence yet it made something in her chest flutter at the mere softness of it. so, she followed him through the crowd and past the noise, heat and stale smell of beer and out the back. april in jersey was a little better than january. the air lacked it’s usual frosty bite but it was just as restless and sharp that it made her shiver the second they stepped outside.
she couldn’t help but curse herself for choosing maybe the thinnest babydoll top in her closet.
but jack was shrugging out of his jacket before she could begin to protest. and she didn’t because his voice was quiet and firm in that effortless way that told her arguing would be pointless.
just take it, honey. you’ll freeze if you don’t.
so she let him because some fights had always been impossible to win against him. the jacket was still warm from his body, smelling faintly of a different cologne this time around. for a moment, neither of them said anything. they leaned against the railing, side by side. inside, the muffled pulse of music bled through the walls. somewhere nearby, a fire pit crackled softly as an orange light flickered across the empty patio.
they were alone.
oh, so terribly fucking alone.
“are you avoiding me?”
the words landed between them with enough force to knock the air from her lungs.
she turned too fast, eyes wide.
“what?”
he looked at her then, properly with a tight jaw as regret visibly oozed off of him.
“what makes you think that?” the slight waver in her voice gave her away before she even finished.
jack shrugged as the fire creaked beside them, though there was nothing casual about it.
“i think if i hadn’t run into you in january, you would’ve never reached out. even after moving back.”
y/n froze and her gaze dropped to her hands like she had been caught red-handed because she practically had.
he was right.
oh so painfully right.
“i didn’t think..” she stopped, swallowed the knot that persisted in her throat and tried again. “i didn’t think you cared to hear from me.”
jack couldn’t help but frown, the expression deep and real enough to make her chest physically ache. because he had a way with his stupid face to make her feel that.
“all i wanted was to hear from you.” his voice was soft in a way that was only used for her.
the world seemed to go strangely still around them. the fire glowed a brighter orange, the wind moved and somewhere inside people laughed. but out there, the entire world narrowed down to that empty patio with two long lost strangers.
jack took a step closer.
then another.
“oh, honey.”
he was wrecked. he could try to hide it but he had never been good at that.
and that stupid nickname.
it did things to her.
it hit her just as hard every single time.
y/n’s head spun and his voice blurred around the edges after that.
something about missing her. about wanting to call and not knowing if he should. something about maybe she would’ve been happier had he never disrupted her life. about a life they could’ve had together.
and then he was close enough that she could feel the heat of him despite the cold. close enough that all she had to do was lean in and take something she’d been craving for years.
something heavier settled between them then.
it wasn’t awkward nor uncomfortable.
it was almost recognition?
like they were both standing in the middle of something they had done countless times before.
“i miss you, honey.”
his words were low and uneven, charged with years of unresolved feelings. her throat tightened but she couldn’t help the teasing smile on her lips.
“yeah?”
it came out smaller than intended.
softer around the edges.
jack gave a quiet, disbelieving laugh.
yeah.
so fucking much.
and maybe that was what they had been circling around all night.
she didn’t move, partially because she couldn’t move. she didn’t step back and sure as hell didn’t tell him no.
not when his hand lifted slowly to her face, rough fingertips brushing her cheek with an impossible gentleness. as if she was something precious to him. something breakable, something untouchable. and he hesitated for a second; long enough to give her an out.
to stop him if she really wanted him to. but she so clearly didn’t want him to.
so he kissed her.
soft at first.
so soft it hurt.
a careful, almost disbelieving press of his lips against hers. his mind was having a hard time deciphering whether or not she was real but the second she kissed him back, something in him gave.
it wasn’t messy.
it wasn’t rushed.
it just ached.
years of unfinished feelings poured into it.
in the way his mouth moved hurriedly against hers. in the way her fingers fisted the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. his lips were softer than she had remembered.
everything else wasn’t.
it was longing and desperation.
quiet, wrecked coated in a sense of relief.
the relief of finally touching again. it almost burned.
her heart pounded hard enough she could feel it in her throat, her wrist and in the tips of her fingers as her hand trembled. jack’s hand slid from her cheek to her waist and spread there in a weak attempt to ground himself using her fleeting warmth.
maybe that was the worst part.
how right it felt. how easy it was for her to fall into him. how completely she had failed at staying away.
their foreheads touched, breaths wildly uneven. his hand still on her waist, her fingers still curled into him.
for a second, neither of them said anything.
this was a bad idea.
a terrible one.
possibly the worst thing they could do.
yet, neither of them moved. neither of them let go.
“do you wanna leave?” jack asked quietly.
with no hesitation left in her voice, she whispered “yeah.”
because that had been the problem when it came to jack hughes.
at only nineteen, jack hughes was supposed to be the future of the new jersey devils; bright-eyed, talented beyond belief, and built for greatness.
but at the end of the day, talent didn't make loneliness any easier. not in a new city, not under new expectations, not in the kind of silence he had had never known before. his rookie season became one defined just as much by isolation as it was by expectations.
y/n l/n - soft in a way newark never was to him. she was steady in the middle of uncertainty, a quite comfort in a life that moved too quickly.
that was until y/n left his life just as she had entered it, turning into the kind of memory that lingered far longer than it ever should have, the kind that tucked itself between the cracks of who jack used to be and who he wanted to become.
by the time jack hughes had grown into the player everyone always knew he could be, she had become nothing more than a distant thought.
until she was standing right in front of him because some people are never just a part of your past, no matter how badly you try to leave them there.
summary: "i thought i made you up" - or - the one where joe moves down south and runs into the intern athletic trainer once or twice.
word count: 2.2k
the day joe burrow solidified his decision to transfer to louisiana state university, the air in columbus felt heavier.
though, it wasn’t just the weather – spring in ohio had its own branding of gray but it was the way everything had suddenly begun to feel too tight. almost suffocating.
he’d spent three years as the backup quarterback, standing just behind a big break, watching it pass by.
he was overlooked. waiting.
drowning quietly in wasted potential while everyone else got their shot.
it didn’t just sit on his shoulders. it lingered inside, lodged itself deeper than that, settled between his ribs like something permanent.
what pulled him south wasn’t anger or bitterness. it wasn’t resentment.
it was clarity. hope.
when people asked, joe told them it was the fresh start he needed. competing for a starting position at an SEC school was a better gamble than waiting another year on the ohio state bench. he said it casually, like it was simple math but truthfully it wasn’t.
he told his teammates that death valley spoke to him in a way columbus never had, that he liked coach o’s raw energy – the way he demanded everything from people without pretending it was easy. he talked about film sessions, about meetings with players who wanted the same thing he always had; a real shot at winning.
he liked to joke that it was the seafood boil that sealed the deal because it was easier to laugh than admit he’d been searching for something he couldn’t bring himself to name.
regardless, joe knew it ran deeper than that.
still, the decision wasn’t set in stone until april.
the day itself was gloomy and rain-soaked; the kind of louisiana weather joe would grow to have a love-hate relationship with. the sky hung low and white with an overcast large enough to mute the world. there was a quiet to it that felt almost intentional, the kind that made space for thoughts he’d been avoiding.
because he wasn’t just the backup quarterback anymore.
not anymore.
he had options. real ones.
the university of cincinnati sat comfortably at the top of his list.
close to home. close to everything familiar.
and just a week earlier, he’d had one of his best practices there; the kind that reminded him what it was like to play football and enjoy it, not just survive it.
but why was he here?
why was he trailing behind LSU’s head coach and offensive coordinator through the practice facility, nodding along, absorbing information like his entire future wasn’t hanging in the balance?
he wasn’t sure.
maybe it was because his father had urged him to give LSU a fair shot, like he had with all the other schools. maybe it was because a part of him didn’t trust easy answers, and cincinnati felt too safe.
too neat.
whatever the reason, something unseen kept pulling him south.
the coaches walked him through hallways lined with trophy cases and framed photos. history pressed him from all sides. the building smelled like damp concrete and fresh turf, with the sharp bite of disinfectant underneath it all.
joe listened, asked questions, and weighed every step because it mattered.
until they let him out.
death valley sat empty underneath the gray sky.
without fans, without noise, it looked even bigger than he’d imagined.
less like a stadium and more like a force of nature that pulled at him.
joe stepped onto the field and tuned out the chatter behind him as he stared up into the quiet, into the vastness, and something in him shifted.
the air felt lighter. his lungs finally cleared.
and for the first time in a long time, joe felt as if he could breathe.
it didn’t take long for the coaches to toss him into a quick, impromptu practice – just to see how he’d fit and it took him all of five minutes.
the ball left his hand clean and sure, spiraling through the damp air like it had been waiting for him. the rhythm came naturally, the kind you couldn't fake or even force.
his grip felt right. the release felt right. even the sound the ball made when it fell into his receivers’ hands felt like an answer.
joe wasn’t there to prove himself.
not yet.
he was there to find that spark columbus had stripped from him.
by the time practice ended, the university of cincinnati had quietly slipped from its number one spot. everything clicked; the team, the field, the energy.
most importantly, baton rouge didn’t feel like a gamble.
louisiana felt right.
while everyone cleared out, joe stayed behind to talk with the coaches. they praised him more than anyone ever had, but it wasn’t hollow. it came with blunt feedback with expectation.
it wasn’t ego. it was work.
he filed it all away, replaying the day in his head as he wandered through quiet hallways. long fluorescent-lit corridors with polished floors, the faint hum of distant doors, muffled voices and the subtle echo of his own sneakers. he walked slower than necessary, letting himself take it in as if his future didn’t hinge on this decision.
he was halfway through retracing his steps when he hit a wall.
or what he thought was a wall, until his eyes focused.
athletic tape, ice packs, bandages – all scattered across the floor. rolls of white and clear plastic pulled from a mesh bag, little crinkled packets fanned out like debris. and in the middle of it all sat a girl.
she was definitely not a wall.
her low ponytail had given up on her, the humidity made strands of hair cling to her cheeks. she wore an oversized LSU crewneck that nearly swallowed her whole, and clipped to a purple lanyard at her chest was a shiny new nametag.
y/n.
“i’m so sorry,” joe blurted, already crouching to help.
she shook her head, rubbing the spot where she’d collided with his chest.
“you’re good. my fault.”
they gathered supplies in silence – tape that kept rolling away, ice packs that slid when nudged.
joe handed her a roll, their fingers brushing for just a second.
long enough to notice.
she flinched, then pretended she hadn’t.
but before joe could find the right words, she was already standing. she offered a polite, practiced smile – the kind that shrunk her and she disappeared down the hall.
joe stood there a moment longer, fingers curled around the last ice pack.
he didn’t know who she was but he knew he’d remember her.
when joe flew back to columbus, there was a quiet energy about him that hadn’t been there before.
his mother noticed. his teammates noticed.
hell, he even noticed.
the feeling of the ball. the pulse of death valley beneath his feet. the flash of her apologetic smile. they followed him into his sleep every damn night.
louisiana state was calling his name.
and joe wasn’t an idiot.
his transition to LSU went smoother than he’d expected. baton rouge was hot, loud, relentless and didn’t make him feel small; it shook him awake.
summer workouts turned into chemistry. dinners bled into late nights.
football became simple again.
on the field, passes cut cleanly through the thick louisiana air; snapping into the hands of his receivers like the ball had always belonged there.
timing felt natural. routes made sense.
even mistakes carried purpose; they were something to learn from instead of something he had to survive off of.
hard days didn’t linger in his chest like they had in ohio. there, everything felt like endurance. here though, it felt like construction.
as if he was building towards something real instead of proving he could withstand it.
by the time the season arrived, joe wasn’t just another transfer trying to justify the move south.
he was LSU’s starting quarterback.
mr. QB1.
a title he’d never let himself imagine while standing on the sidelines of OSU.
his first year wasn’t perfect though it wasn’t supposed to be. but it was honest, gritty and promising in a way that was earned.
thirteen starts. over 2,800 passing yards. sixteen touchdowns. Nearly 400 yards on the ground.
he became the first quarterback in LSU history to throw for more than 2,500 yards and rush for over 350 in a single season but he wasn’t chasing numbers; he was trusting what the game asked of him.
and there were moments he’d carry with him long after the season ended.
wins against big-named schools he would’ve never imagined while riding the bench in ohio. grueling overtimes that left his legs burning and his lungs screaming.
the roar of death valley, the blistering sun, night-game lights, noise so loud it vibrated in his skull, hits that rattled his ribs and sacks that made his ears ring.
but every snap, every damn bruise, every second brought a quiet and unspoken certainty.
he wasn’t proving himself.
he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
and for the most part, joe forgot about the girl from his visit. he managed to convince himself she’d been a trick of exhaustion and humidity. after a few months of asking and coming up with loose ends, he wasn’t even sure what her name was anymore.
until summer training arrived.
the first day hit hard in june – disgustingly hot, heavy and unforgiving.
joe stepped into the facility, sweat clinging to his skin instantly. the air smelled like wet dirt, turf and sunscreen. yet something felt off.
until a gasp rang and supplies clattered.
joe looked down.
there she was again.
same collision. same mess. same quiet force.
some things didn’t pull you south all at once.
some things waited.
joe blinked. for a second, he wondered if he’d imagined her again – if the heat and exhaustion was finally starting to mess with his head.
the hallway felt too quiet. too still. like it had the first time.
she didn’t look up right away.
one hand pressed to her forehead, fingers curled into her hair like she was trying to ground herself.
just like before.
it hit him so hard it made his chest tighten.
she winced softly, muttering something sharp and quiet under her breath.
more aimed at the tile floor like it had personally wronged her than him.
the mesh bag beside her had burst open, a mess of tape, gauze and ice packs spilled everywhere.
joe didn’t think. he just moved.
“i’m so sorry,” he said, already crouching down, palms sweeping towards the direction of the scattered supplies.
the words hung there.
familiar and y/n’s shoulders went rigid and slowly she sat up.
“y-you’re good. my fault,” she muttered softly.
joe felt it again – a sharp and inexplicable jolt like he had felt hit him a year ago.
and when she finally looked up, they both froze.
the fluorescent lights hummed overhead. somewhere down the hall, doors opened and shut. voices drifted in and out.
but right on the cold tile floor, the world was narrowing down to ice packs and rolls of athletic tape.
she blinked once and then again.
her eyes dropped down to his hands as he gathered supplies, methodical, careful.
something in her expression shifted; it wasn’t shock nor annoyance.
was it recognition? maybe?
joe handed her a roll of tape and their fingers brushed.
like muscle memory.
though this time, neither of them pulled away fast enough.
the silence thickened. it was warm, heavy and pressed in around them.
her brows furrowed slightly, like she was reaching backwards through time, trying to place something she didn’t want to admit she remembered.
joe noticed the necklace then.
it was delicate, much like her.
silver. a small swan that rested against her collarbone.
it caught the overhead light when she shifted, subtle but impossible to miss.
something in joe’s chest tightened and he swallowed, “i thought i made you up.”
that did it.
her expression, hard to read – cracked. confusion first and then something softer lingered.
something resigned. like the truth clicking into place that she had hoped she was wrong about.
“l/n!” a voice called sharply from down the hall.
her head snapped up.
“burrow! get your ass out here!”
his spine straightened instinctively even though he was still kneeling.
their names echoed, urgent and unavoidable.
he looked at her as if he blinked, she would disappear again.
she moved first.
“i need to go,” she stumbled over her words and she shot up quickly.
joe grabbed the last ice pack – just like he had before.
but this time, he didn’t keep it.
“hey,” he said, holding it out. “you forgot this. y/n.”
she hesitated. then took it.
again, their fingers touched but it was steady. no flinch.
“y/n!” the voice called again.
sharper, “now!”
joe opened his mouth but his name was already being shouted again. his body reacted before the rest of his mind had the chance to catch up.
when he looked back, she was gone.
not running but moving fast; purposeful.
like she knew exactly where she was supposed to be.
he exhaled slowly and forced himself forward.
but something had shifted yet he felt anchored.
and for the first time since he’d set foot into louisiana, joe felt as if it wasn’t just the field that had been calling him south.
joe burrow, LSU’s golden-boy quarterback, was busy carving out a legacy. baton rouge's heat shimmered against the practice fields as cameras clicked and voices carried his name across campus. he had a reputation, a future he was building throw by throw. he was steady, certain, and untouchable.
y/n l/n wasn’t part of the plan. she existed in the periphery at first; a soft smile and a clipboard tucked under her arm, laughter echoing from the sideline. she was always around, somewhere between the team and the chaos, always working, lost in her own world.
joe couldn’t help but notice her. his world was football, film sessions, and the chase for something bigger. but fate never cared much for focus or discipline. it worked quietly, weaving its own kind of play.
and somehow, without warning, LSU’s playboy quarterback found himself falling for the sweetest girl on campus, the one person who made him forget every plan he’d ever had.
izzy806
yousharknotpass
origamiaround
turnnoffyourmind
germansingergirl
kianamaiart
stormborns
gracieabrams