#hot nico summer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ham1lton · 5 months

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WET DREAMZ.

pairings: sebastian vettel x reader. lewis hamilton x reader. jenson button x reader. nico rosberg x reader. fernando alonso x reader.

summary: when you move next door to a hot single dad, you take it upon yourself to seduce him. too bad for you that he uncovers your plan. you’re not exactly subtle.

warnings: sexual content. like most of this is straight up smut. mdni. explicit mentions of f!reader’s body parts. charles cameo in nico’s! implied cheating in fernando’s.

author’s note: i woke up in a fugue and wrote this as i ignored all of my adult responsibilities. show it some love <3 also no beta. we die like men.

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SEBASTIAN VETTEL ✿

when your company allowed you to work remotely, you moved into a smaller village on the outskirts of germany. your family and friends weren’t too happy with your decision to move but with the current economic state of your country at the moment, it was great for your bank account.

your house was a modest affair, with three bedrooms but a gorgeous kitchen that gave you direct visual access into your neighbour’s backyard. the same neighbour who knocked on your door when you first moved in, with a jar of honey and some eggs as a housewarming gift. he was covered with a light sheen of sweat that would have seemed disgusting on anyone else. he introduced himself in german and switched to lightly accented english when he saw your confusion.

he’d sometimes pass you when he was walking his dog, or cycling to the farmer’s market. he’d make his kids wave hello as he’d pick them up and drop them off at their mother’s. he’d take your cakes when you’d exhausted your baking hobbies and would burst if you’d have another slice. he’d grin and smile bashfully when you told him you’d made one just the way he’d liked it.

as you watch him, he turns around and waves at you. a big grin splitting his face as you wave back. you’re so fucked. you spent an hour on facetime last night with your best friends as you went through the pros and cons of fucking your hot neighbour.

the cons outweighed the pros mostly, if it went badly you could lose access to the free gifts he’d bring by occasionally or his help when he would have a look at your car when it started spluttering when you needed to buy groceries. it would be weird too. aren’t adults supposed to be on good terms with their neighbours?

it didn’t stop you from you asking him if you could wait out the storm in his house instead of yours as all the lights had gone out and when he kissed you, you were shocked. you hadn’t needed to come up with a plan to seduce him into wanting you, because he already did.

he had you spread over his lap, his ring finger and his middle finger already in your centre. the sounds of your arousal filling the room as you fucked yourself against his digits. he smiled into the crook of your neck before kissing it.

“i knew you were this desperate for it,” he hums, his german accent thicker as he pressed his thumb lightly against your clit. he’s teasing you, and normally you’d be okay with it. playing this mutual game of cat and mouse but not when you’re this desperate to get off. “it’s okay. because i was desperate for it too.”

your eyes roll back as you reach your peak.

LEWIS HAMILTON ᯽

after your promotion, you decide to treat yourself to a summer home in monaco. it’s a flat in an expensive complex, with a pool, a gym and even a spa. you’d spend many days relaxing and enjoying the amenities or shopping with the bonus money that your boss had bestowed upon you for sealing a contract with one of the biggest businesses in your country. this was your time to relax.

yet, you couldn’t relax. as you finished your daily workout - yes you now had the time - you saw the hottest man in your entire life walk past you in a loose gym set. embarrassingly, you were filling up your water bottle which overflowed and covered you with the excess. thank god he didn’t see.

you hadn’t been much of a femme fatale, you were more of a business woman in your head. your sister told you that there wasn’t much difference between the two, just that the femme fatale chose a different line of business. it was that comment that encouraged you to start your plan of seduction.

it wasn’t working, even when you wore your best gym outfit, the one that made your ass look incredible, or when you attempted to bump into him at the complex’s coffee shop in the cute two piece that exposed your best assets. it seemed like he disappeared.

until he knocked at your door at the middle of the day, you opened it to see him dressed in a suit. for a selfish second, your thoughts drifted to him wearing this for you.

“do you mind watching my dog? roscoe is in a mood today and my usual dogsitter is busy. i have a meeting that is impossible for me to get out of. you’ll be doing me a big favour.” oh. he was british.

you smile at him, as graciously as you can. thanking god that you had just come back from brunch with the girls, so your hair and makeup were still done. you told him all about how much you love dogs and you wouldn’t mind at all watching his fur baby! you were a lovely neighbour after all.

he repaid the favour later anyways, on his knees and in between your legs. he pulls down your underwear, you had shaved in anxious preparation for this moment, your arousal leaving a stain against the fabric. he pressed his thumb against your folds before licking a stripe between them. his tongue flicking against you, as you pressed down harder on his face.

your moans were loud and unapologetic. you had a gorgeous man between your thighs, eating you out like this was his calling. he grinned at you, his face drenched in your juices. you groaned and put your hands on his braids.

now this was a holiday.

JENSON BUTTON ☆

moving to the big city was supposed to be a shock, but you took to it gracefully like a duck to water. london wasn’t the nicest to everyone but it took a liking to you. you bought a house with your best friend in a family neighbourhood with low crime rates and a high chance of getting more money when you’d both inevitably sell it in the future.

it was walkable which you loved. you could walk less then ten minutes to go shopping. you had come back with a few shopping bags when you accidentally bumped into your neighbour who was coming back from picking up his daughters. he laughs at the action as he apologises and gives a hand out for you to shake.

“i’m jenson. sorry about that, these two usually have me run off my feet!” he points at his two daughters who have already ran insider the house. “it’s like they’re my parents.”

after shaking your hand, he takes his cap off and runs a hand through his slightly greying hair. he’s wearing a pair of shorts with a loose t-shirt. it is almost summertime but the weather in london had a mind of its own. sunny one day, rainy the next and freezing for both. but jenson didn’t seem to mind the cold.

you introduce yourself and he listens intently until you realise that you have to go. there is frozen food in the bags and jenson’s daughters are calling for their post-school snack. but after that meeting, you always time your post shopping trip for when jenson comes back with the girls. your roommate/best friend doesn’t protest when you insist on the shopping being your chore but she does give you a sideways glance when she sees you chatting with jenson again on the step.

one night, you’ve come back from a date. it went awfully as per usual, although london seemed to love you and want you, the men didn’t seem to. you’re home late, when you rummage in your purse and swear loudly. you brought the wrong purse! you could call your roommate but she sleeps like the dead and probably wouldn’t answer. you’re thinking of breaking through the window when a voice calls at you.

“y/n?” jenson grins at you. “are you alright?”

after a moment, and a few minutes of arguing that you’re fine to sleep in the bushes, you’re inside jenson’s home. dressed in a pair of his old clothes. he hands you a cup of tea and puts down a packet of biscuits next to it.

“so, are you going to tell me why i caught you dressed to the nines and attempting to break through a window?” he’s trying to sound stern but he’s smiling as he says it.

“bad date,” you start and smile ruefully, taking a sip of tea. “forgot my keys and well, at least you caught me before i did any damage.”

he laughs. you laugh too but not before realising that there are probably kids sleeping in the house. you bring this up to jenson who waves off your concern.

“the girls are at their mum’s. it’s just us. don’t worry. you can be as loud as you’d like.”

you end up being very loud as you lay on his very comfortable bed. he’s tapping himself again the hood of your clit as you squirm breathless from the earlier orgasm he gave you. he smiles at you, leaning up to kiss you as he slides in, swallowing your gasps as he kisses you firmer.

“you know how long i’ve dreamt of having you like this?” he asks. you shake your head, moaning again as he fucks you harder. “since the first day you bumped into me, in that little fucking skirt. dreamt of bending you over and having you like this. anyway you’d let me. would you?”

you nod, voice locked in your throat as he mouths at your tits. he smiles at your willingness.

“good. we have the entire weekend to ourselves. let’s see how many times i can get you to cum. hmm?” you squeeze yourself around him as you have your first orgasm. your cunt spasming as he gently pulls out. he lets you rest against him for a moment, taking a deep breath as he runs a hand down your back.

“now that’s number one. keep count for me darling, okay?”

NICO ROSBERG 𑁍

you weren’t a yacht person. when your university friend had begged you to come home with her for the holidays, you hadn’t expected the family party to be held on a yacht. this was out of your tax bracket.

it seemed like everyone in monaco was right. the casual displays of wealth and decadence made you sick at times. thinking about how the money that went to buying that birkin bag could have made a change in someone’s life. then you think about how you’re wearing a custom gown on a friend’s yacht and realise that you’re now part of the problem.

a bonus about being in monaco, was that the men were gorgeous. your friend’s older brother charles was handsome with dimples and a gorgeous accent. if he hadn’t been in a relationship with a supermodel, you would have been all over that. thankfully, there was more eye candy in the city. your friend’s father had a business partner that was in their house more often then not.

he was blond, blunt and pretty in all the ways an older man could be. when he looked at you, you felt like the world could burn at your feet. he had also been on the yacht at the same time as you. drinking champagne, mingling with family and investors as you ate canapés and watched the sky.

“is it boring you?” he asks, as you turn around. he was dressed in a loose linen shirt, light coloured trousers with his shirt open just enough to see the smooth skin underneath. “can’t believe she brought you to a work event.”

“it’s fine. there are worse places to be.” you respond. you take a sip of champagne and you both ignore the fact he watches the sip go down. he takes note of the way that you’re still looking in the direction of charles and his girlfriend, the two still wrapped around each other.

“you’ve fallen for the charles charm?” he says, smiling as he sits across from you. he puts his ankles up on the table like he owns it, which he probably does. you can tell a lot from a person’s body language, and his is telling you that he’s used to getting what he wants. “it’s a shame. another pretty girl lost in his eyes. want another drink?”

“pretty girl?”

he nods, blue eyes darkening as he looks at you over the rim of his drink.

“would you want me to show you how pretty i think you are?”

so that’s how you find yourself bent over the sink in the bathroom at a yacht party, your pretty dress bunched up at the waist as he presses his fingers inside you. scissoring them to stretch you wider.

“is this what you imagined he’d do to you?” he asks, voice curious. “that he’d go down on you in one of the bedrooms? he’d let you go down on him? that he’d split you open with his cock as we all walked around upstairs?”

you sob as he talks you through it, mascara running down your cheeks. how are you going to explain to your best friend that you fucked her dear precious uncle nico while talking about her brother. he grinds his palm against your clit as he stands up and gags your mouth with his fingers.

“can’t be too loud honey, don’t want them to hear you.”

FERNANDO ALONSO ꩜

spain was a big adventure for you and your boyfriend. the two of you made the decision to move for a few months to his grandfather’s home to help redesign the place. it was slightly run down but nothing that you couldn’t fix. the goal was to rebuild it in order to sell it off.

however, you hadn’t foreseen that this would effectively destroy what relationship you had with your boyfriend. he insisted on not signing the place under your name despite you also funnelling funds into the rebuilding of the house. after another argument, you decide to take a break. wearing a bikini, and armed with nothing besides water, sunscreen and a good book, you make your way into the backyard. sunning yourself to at least gain something from all the money you’ve put in, even if its just a tan and a relaxing afternoon.

“you’re the new neighbour?” a voice calls out, as he leans against the fence that separates your property. you knew the next door neighbour had kids, you could hear them playing occasionally in the summer sun as you painted. you didn’t know they had a hot dad. that’s new information. he smiles at you. “it’s been a while since there has been a young person. the old man who lived here has been here since before i was even born. you’re his kid?”

“no,” you laugh. “he’s my boyfriend’s grandfather. i’m just here as a cash cow apparently.”

your voice turns a little bitter but why wouldn’t you be? you have put in the same amount of time and effort as he has onto this place and now you’re not getting anything back. court is an option but it’ll drain even more of your bank account.

“why is that?” he asks, head tilted as he looks at you.

you end up spilling everything to him. about the house, the money, the contract that has your name redacted. in return, he tells you that his name is fernando and the kids you always hear playing in his back garden aren’t his but rather his nieces and nephews. it’s nice listening to him speak, with the heavy spanish lilt to his accent. he is the first person in a while who has just listened to your grievances so when he asks you inside for a drink, you don’t hesitate. grabbing your wraparound skirt, you follow him inside.

less then ten minutes later, you’re on his lap, as he presses his mouth against your tits. enveloping one nipple in his mouth while his fingers move to play with your other one. you grind down harder against him, feeling your clit brush against the hard muscle of his thigh. your bottoms are soaked with your arousal as you lean closer and bite his shoulder to stay quiet. he leans away from you for a moment, as your eyes widen worried that you’ve done something wrong.

“don’t be quiet hermosa, let him hear it,” he grins up at you then leans in for a kiss. “isn’t that most of the fun?”

author’s note: sorry y’all idk what came over me.

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kamaluhkhan · 1 month

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LONG HOT SUMMER NIGHT

pairing: luke castellan x fem!poseidon!reader word count: 8.4k chapter summary: it's the summer solstice and olympus is throwing a party! thalia notices the tension between you and luke, poseidon gives you some relationship advice and you punch the god of desire in the face. warnings: angst! jealous reader. lots of drinking. complicated relationships. reader dealing with ptsd + survivor's guilt (post-titan war). mention of injuries + blood. creepy guy pushing reader to hook up. ending is a bit steamy but no actual smut. spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 also reader is in a band called the midnight sirens and is born on the summer solstice! author's note: thank you so much for all the love for part 1!! summer is almost over and this is very much a summer series BUT summer's not over yet !!! hope y'all enjoy this one too and thanks 4 reading 💙

part 1 | series masterlist

♪: long hot summer night by jimi hendrix

mail to:

Luke Castellan Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill 3.141 Farm Road Long Island, New York 11954

LUKE!

I’m sitting in my kitchen right now, watching Percy make us blue blueberry pancakes and hoping he doesn’t burn down my kitchen while doing so. I caved and agreed to take him to Disneyland while he’s here and breakfast was part of the deal, but I think I might regret it later.

We went surfing yesterday. It was Percy’s first time, but he was (unsurprisingly) amazing at it. I still can’t get over how beautiful the beaches are and the waves — gods, the waves are unreal. You’d seriously love it here. It’s like every day is summer. You have to come visit. PLEASE come visit!!!!

- [your initial]

P.S. The band and I are working on some new music, which means I won’t make it to camp again this summer. I’m sorry ;( Fingers crossed I’ll make it next year.

P.P.S. hi luke! happy to report that i did not burn down my sister’s kitchen. anyways, can’t wait to kick your ass in sword-fighting this summer. xoxo, percy

THREE YEARS LATER

the first time you visited olympus, you had been sent on a quest to retrieve zeus’ stolen lightning bolt, bringing luke and charles beckendorf along with you. you had missed the summer solstice deadline, but still tried to reason with the king of the gods when presenting the symbol of power, maybe calling him out once or twice along the way. before zeus could strike you down for your boldness, poseidon stepped in. the war between them was averted in fear of a much larger, looming threat; an ominous introduction for what was to come in the next chapter of your life.

another time, the gods debated whether or not they should kill you, some seeing you as a threat to their future. that was the day you accepted your destiny, not wanting your brother percy or your cousin nico to deal with the weight of the great prophecy.

your last visit to olympus was on your 18th birthday, after helping to defeat kronos and his army. you made the gods swear to stop neglecting their kids and to allow all demigods, regardless of whether their parent was an olympian or not, to have a home at camp half-blood; to treat their children as children rather than heroes as pawns in their twisted games.

needless to say, it’s quite strange, being back here under very, very different circumstances, where the gods invited camp half-blood’s senior counsellors and staff to join in their summer solstice festivities.

it’s not every day you’ll be invited to a party on olympus; you’re determined to have a good time, to have fun. there’s already an abundance of music, dancing, food, or alcohol, and the night is just getting started.

you’re happy to be there with new and old friends, but you’re ecstatic when you see that thalia grace is there, too.

“immortality looks good on you, t!” you compliment, raising your voice slightly over the music.

thalia preens, and you bask in her silver glow.

“bet you wish you took the gods up on their offer, huh,” she teases. then, her eyes widen. “oh - shit! it’s your birthday! happy birthday!”

thalia tackles you with another hug; even after all these years, she still smells like pine trees. she grabs two goblets of honeyed wine and hands one to you as you catch up. you eagerly gulp the sweet drink, until you’re reaching for another while listening to her stories about adventures she’d been on with the hunters of artemis.

about halfway through her story about fighting off a manticore during a snow storm, a nymph appears with a platter of the ripest of fruit – sweet plums and fresh figs, tantalising pomegranates, succulent grapes and crisp apples.

“oh my gods, this is the best apple i’ve had in my entire life!” thalia exclaims after indulging in a taste, herself giddy from a few goblets of wine. “where’s luke? he’s gotta try this — he’s always reminding us to eat more fruit. luke!”

you hadn’t kept track of luke, at least not on purpose. you assumed he’d been off partying with van or his siblings, and, probably, avoiding you. wherever he was, thalia calls his name twice more and, like a ghost, luke appears.

“i’m here, t.” luke’s voice is a deep, steady rumble floating above the music. his cheeks are slightly flushed, either from the heat or the drinks. likely both. “what’s up?”

“you need to try this.” thalia shoves the apple in his mouth before luke can respond.

luke takes a bite, and some juice drips down his chin. you, in a honey-soaked haze, think about running your tongue over to catch it, but he beats you to it, wiping it away with the back of his hand.

probably for the best.

“holy shit. yeah, it’s good.”

thalia, a sparkle in her eyes, urges you to try it as well. from across the makeshift triangle the three of you had formed, luke tosses the apple your way. you catch it effortlessly, and sink your teeth into it.

you’ve almost overwhelmed by the burst of flavor. the fruit is just the right amount of tart to balance out the sweetness, and it’s damn near the best crunch you’ve ever experienced.

“good is an understatement,” you say after another bite. a distant memory crosses your mind. “i wonder if these are the same ones we almost got killed by a hellhound for.”

thalia shakes her head, laughing in disbelief. “all because luke said we needed more vitamin c.”

“i was just looking out for us!” luke guffaws. “how was i supposed to know that persephone owned an apple orchard in connecticut?”

you pat his shoulder, the three of you smiling at the memory. “let’s call it an honest mistake.”

“well if annabeth had been with us by then, i’m sure that she wouldn’t have made that same honest mistake.”

“okay, but she’s the daughter of athena —”

you let luke and thalia slip back into their playful bickering as if no time has passed. you listen and continue eating that glorious apple, enjoying how the golden glow of your shared past fills whatever distance might have grown between the three of you.

somewhere down memory lane, luke’s amber eyes flick towards you.

“hey, you’ve got some….” without another word, luke suddenly reaches over to brush away a trail of juice with his thumb before sticking the finger in his mouth to savour the taste. he holds your gaze as he does so, and you feel a familiar kind of heat rush through your body — not from alcohol or summer sun, but from luke.

it’s such an intimate gesture that you almost forget that you’re at some extravagant party on mount olympus, where gods and half-bloods and a whole bunch of other mythological creatures are celebrating the start of summer by essentially getting drunk together, until thalia clears her throat.

“okay, well, seems like the two of you might want some alone time.”

luke’s cheeks grow more flushed than before, and his eyes widen as if realizing what he’d done.

“oh, we don’t need —”

“we’re not —”

you and luke both stumble over your words; thalia just smiles knowingly.

“i’m gonna go flirt with that nymph,” she announces, pointing across the grand marble pavilion.

“i thought — doesn’t artemis sort of frown upon that sort of thing?” you ask.

“she makes exceptions on holidays. besides, i’m her favourite. you guys have fun.” thalia winks at you and walks away.

you glance at luke and, gods, there’s so much history between you.

the time you jumped into an ocean full of sirens to save luke from drowning? you have a scar running down your forearm where one of them scratched you as you struggled to get luke towards the surface.

or when you took turns holding up the sky while on a quest to save lady artemis and defeat the titan atlas? it’s evident in the matching streaks of grey that you each have running through your hair. whenever you see your reflection in the mirror, you remember how you couldn’t save your cousin bianca di angelo earlier that day, and how nico has had to grow up without a sister because of a promise you broke.

how about when you, luke, and one of your best friends were sent on a mission to destroy the princess andromeda, the headquarters of kronos’ army? only the two of you survived, and sometimes you can still feel luke squeezing your hand pike he did during charles beckendorf’s burial shroud ceremony while you both cried.

or when luke took a sword between the ribs for you because he, somehow, knew the one spot the curse of achilles left you vulnerable? he can only slouch for so long before the bones there start to ache.

so, yeah. there’s way too much history, and so many tangled threads, and now really isn’t an ideal time to unravel it all.

“i’m gonna go find my dad,” you blurt out and disappear into the crowd with no real intention of finding your father.

the once sweet apple now tastes rotten on your tongue; you rid yourself of it in exchange for some more wine. you’re determined to have fun — no pain or heartache or grief.

you’ve all had enough of that for three lifetimes.

summer — age 14

“sorry your birthday was ruined.”

luke exhaled sharply when you pressed a disinfectant-soaked cloth to the wound on his leg.

“hold still,” was all you mumbled in response, brows knitted together as you wrapped the cut in gauze.

once you were done with his leg, you moved on to luke’s hands, burned by poisonous acid. the four of you had run into a hydra earlier that night. you managed to wound it enough so you could all get away, but not before a few injuries were sustained.

you were uncharacteristically quiet as you worked. you only met luke’s gaze to warn him before pouring some nectar on his wounds. you let luke hold your hand, tightly, as the liquid dripped through his fingers and down to yours, first right, then left. the pain was instant, seering almost as much as the hydra acid, but it was over quickly. the last thing you did was bandage each hand before getting up.

“i’m…i’m gonna check on thalia and annabeth. i’ll take first watch.”

luke caught your hand before you got away.

“wait. you’re bleeding.” he pointed to the cut on your brow. you had been so preoccupied in making sure everyone else was safe that you let crimson liquid drip down your face. it probably stung, too, based on your grimace.

luke wiped away the blood with his sleeve, used nectar to disinfect the wound, and dressed it with a fresh bandage, working silently as you did.

“it’s still your birthday,” luke finally said once he was done. “you get some rest; i’ll take first watch.”

you gave him a small, strained smile before checking on the others.

later that night, you stayed up with luke anyways.

seemingly out of nowhere, you handed him your portable cassette player. luke stared at it for a moment, unwilling to comprehend just what you were offering and, more importantly, why.

you and luke had grown accustomed to sharing things: flannels, socks, makeshift beds and scavenged food. but this —

it was your aunt’s.

you never met your mother, who’d left you as a baby, and of course, poseidon was too busy tending to his underwater kingdom to step in as a parent. your aunt raised you as her own. and then you lost her, too.

you kept her cassette player buried deep in your bag with some mixtapes she had made and ones you’d stolen throughout the years. when it wasn’t your turn to keep watch, luke would sometimes catch you with headphones on, looking up at the stars.

luke liked to think he knew you well; all those subtle elements that made you — the crack of your knuckles, the cadence of your voice, the slope of your nose, the dreams of your childhood. engraved in his own personhood. bones and all.

and, still: he didn’t know you, not entirely.

you’d only allowed luke to listen with you once, maybe twice. he’d never forget what it was like: knees pressed together and heads just as close to keep the wires from stretching too far; you gushing about the magic of jimi hendrix, recounting memories that echoed through gentle guitar riffs; luke yearning for one more song to play, for another a wistful smile of yours to appear. luke, wishing to linger in your private oasis a beat longer before you pushed him out again and closed the door behind him.

the one lock luke couldn’t crack: your grief, and how you carried on so buoyantly despite its weight.

well, there you were, presenting the key to luke as an offering. a sacrifice for something luke would never ask of you.

“this….” luke swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to look at you. he turned the device over in his bandaged hands, the metal smooth, though well-worn. “you can’t just —”

leave. you can’t just leave. you can’t just —

“hey.”

your hand over his, forcing him to stop spiralling and look at you.

right away, luke regretted it. a small sliver of him, however delusional, had hoped that you were joking.

you weren’t. behind you, there was an empty space where you had previously wedged your sleeping bag. your backpack was already strapped around your shoulders, fully packed.

“i need to leave, luke. we can’t stay together. it’s too dangerous.”

“you don’t need to —”

“there’s more of us, now,” you interrupted, pulling your hand away to rest on your thigh. “four demigods together isn’t ideal. we’ve been attracting more monsters. more deadly monsters.”

“that would happen, anyways. it always has whether it’s the four of us, the two of us, or….”

luke stopped his sentence short, not even wanting to give you the idea to go out on your own, even though you’d probably been thinking about leaving for some time.

you made reckless decisions sometimes, but this didn’t seem to be one of them.

“well, it’s happening more.” your voice was steady, too steady. luke imagined you rehearsing just what to say to counter the inevitable backlash.

luke shook his head. “i’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“you almost died because of me,” you clipped. you lifted a hand to touch the bruise on luke’s jaw, but let it drop just as quickly. “you know that children of the big three cause more trouble. maybe we managed it when it was the two of us, but now, there’s more to consider. a child of poseidon and a child of zeus, travelling together. it’s like we’re asking to be killed. it’s too dangerous.”

“that’s our life,” luke snapped. “you can’t just run from it.” from us.

you faltered, looking back to where annabeth and thalia were sleeping peacefully.

oh. he must have said that last part out loud, too.

“you know i’m right,” is all you said.

luke could only shake his head again. because, fine, you weren’t entirely wrong. it was more dangerous — but it was danger luke hoped you’d all face, together.

“i’ve made up my mind,” you added, an anchor in the sand.

“don’t leave.” luke’s words came out as a prayer. if he offered something, maybe you’d stay.

you paused to take a shaky breath. “this isn’t goodbye, luke. i swear to poseidon…fuck, i swear to all the gods that this isn’t goodbye.”

luke couldn’t speak. there were tears bubbling in his throat, threatening to spill.

“so, keep this for me,” you whispered, once again placing your hand on top of luke’s. his fingers gripped your cassette player tightly, like it was the only piece of driftwood leftover from a shipwreck, keeping him from sinking into the cold, dark nothing. “you’ll give it back when we see each other again.”

a promise.

“fine,” luke conceded, though he wanted to scream at you. he wanted to argue like little kids — petty, loud, meaningless, back and forth until tears streamed down cheeks and throats were raw.

but, you were leaving, one way or another. luke didn’t want this shared memory to be tainted if it might be your last.

“you have to take this, then. give it back when we see each other again.”

luke removed the chain from around his neck, the one that held the key to his childhood home. he placed it around yours, instead.

he didn’t need the key now, but his mother had given it to him when he was six. before he knew what it meant to be the son of hermes, god of thieves.

call him sentimental, but luke had kept it. just in case he ever got lost.

“if you’re ever back in connecticut, you have a home.”

“yeah, okay.” you smiled softly.

it fell just as quickly.

“take care of them,” you told him. “of yourself, too. i’ll see you again when it’s safe.”

luke didn’t ask when it would be safe, because the truth is that it might never be.

“because you want your cassette player back?” luke joked, instead trying to lighten the mood, to capture one last moment of brightness.

you laughed softly to not wake the others.

“yeah. that too.”

you pressed your forehead to his, something you hadn’t done since you were kids.

“i’ll see you again,” you repeated.

without another word, you got up and jogged away. luke shut his eyes, refusing to see you become nothing but a shadow.

(you looked back several times, but he couldn’t see through the darkness.)

now

call the gods out on their bullshit (you encourage it), but if they have one thing going for them, it’s that the olympians know how to throw a party.

the night grows darker, yet somehow becomes more lively. demeter and persephone had supplied a generous amount of fresh, decadent fruit, and dionysus an even more generous amount of wine. apollo starts a karaoke corner and you’re just tipsy enough to agree to sing a duet with him in order to break the ice. apparently, he’s a big midnight sirens fan and had seen your band when you headlined at glastonbury festival. you smile to yourself, imagining your bandmates’ faces if you told them that the god of music had watched you perform.

as you hand the microphone to a giggling dryad, the sound of your name washes over like gentle waves on a shore.

“if it isn’t my sweet, summer child!” your father brings you in for a hug and an ocean breeze engulfs you — salt and sand and sun.

“hi dad,” you exhale as you pull away.

you hadn’t seen each other in a while, but poseidon looks the same. he’s dressed in a turquoise hawaiian shirt and birkenstocks with a crown of seashells on his head. there’s a cocktail umbrella in his glass, a slice of pineapple wedged onto the rim. you’re about to ask him how he managed to secure a pina colada and where you might find one, too.

“that was quite the performance!” poseidon takes an eager sip of his drink, green eyes sparkling like sea glass in the sun. “i must tell you: your newest album is all the rage in atlantis. the nereids and merpeople can’t seem to get enough of it and, truthfully, i find myself playing it on repeat as well. you’re quite talented.”

you try not to let your shock slip through, instead smiling and asking how things are in his underwater kingdom, but you’re….touched at your father’s unexpected praise.

the gods aren’t perfect, and your father is no exception. they’re divine beings who have time to conceive children, but not to raise them. there’s a long history of them abandoning, mistreating, and manipulating their own offspring. of course, being the prophecy child, it became practically impossible for your father to ignore you; you’re sure that being dubbed the saviour of olympus gives him bragging rights with his immortal family. even with their sworn promise to change, it’s impossible not to resent the gods in some ways.

still, you feel comforted by your father's presence at times — when you catch the perfect wave on your surfboard, for example, or when you sit on your fire escape during a storm after a bad day. it’s been like that pretty much all your life: poseidon there in spirit, not in practice. despite everything, he’s watched over you, and percy, throughout the years.

and here poseidon is now, grinning at you like you’re his pride and joy.

“enough about aquatic politics.” he pats your shoulder enthusiastically after telling you about the struggles of keeping humans from overfishing. “i came over to wish you a happy birthday. and to give you this.”

poseidon reaches into the pocket of his shirt and hands you something you’d long thought gone: a leather cord with several clay beads and a silver key.

“i found it off the california coast,” he explains. “i kept meaning to get it to you, but i suppose time has a way of getting away from us, immortal or not.”

a warmth grows in your chest as you run your thumb over your old camp necklace, bright and full. it had fallen off one day when you’d gone surfing, and you assumed it was lost to the ocean. you'd been given a fresh leather cord when you arrived at camp earlier this summer, but it felt empty. hollow.

“thanks, dad.”

you smile at him as you put on the necklace; it feels like coming home. your father then asks you about your summer so far.

you tell him all about your life as of late, until you catch a glimpse of luke with van on a marble bench at the other end of the pavilion. van is sitting in luke’s lap, and they lean over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek.

you freeze mid-way through your sentence.

sensing the shift in mood, poseidon frowns. he turns his head to follow your gaze.

“ah.” poseidon turns back to you and clears his throat. “now, i don’t mean to pry, but i saw you earlier with the castellan boy.”

you flush at the fact that your moment with luke was witnessed by your own father. “dad —”

“did you know in ancient greece, throwing someone an apple and having them catch it is considered a marriage proposal?”

“i’m pretty sure that was disproven,” you scoff.

poseidon raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “which one of us was actually there, hm?” and though you roll your eyes, you can’t argue with that. “i just wanted to know if there was a wedding happening in the near future.”

you almost choke on the last remnants of your wine. “dad.”

“i’m kidding. i’m kidding! mr. castellan seems otherwise occupied.”

“yeah, it does seem that way,” you grumble.

poseidon puts a hand on your shoulder, firm but reassuring. “regardless: if you find someone who would go to tartarus and back with you, someone who would fight alongside you every step of the way, you hold on to them. there’s only so much time you mortals have on this earth.”

you sigh — easier said than done — but your father is trying, so you manage a nod.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

“now, i better go — ” poseidon looks over your shoulder, where the air behind you starts to feel staticky. “it seems a disagreement is brewing between zeus and hades. they always get into it whenever dionysus makes the wine a bit too strong. brother, put away the lightning bolt —” and he rushes away to prevent another divine conflict from arising.

left to your own devices, you venture over to the food table, finding an array of fresh and dried fruit, breads, cured meat, fresh oysters and, of course, more wine. you grab a goblet and a few dried figs.

“careful, i heard dionysus made the wine extra strong tonight,” someone warns, creeping up beside you. the voice is soft and alluring, and you feel something tug at your heart.

you do a double take when you turn to them; the person is devilishly handsome, a golden aura paired with a golden smile.

(you will soon find out that the god flirting with you is the son of ares and aphrodite, the latter of which takes the appearance of whoever the onlooker loves. as it turns out, her son appears in the same way.

all this to say: it doesn’t mean anything that this god looks like luke castellan to you.

it doesn’t mean anything at all.)

“i’m eros.”

“hey. i’m —”

“i know who you are, savior of olympus.” eros winks at you. “i just never realized you were so beautiful.”

your cheeks heat up as you take a sip of your drink.

oh, shit.

okay. the literal god of desire and pleasure is flirting with you.

you’re flattered, really, and maybe the wine has gotten to your head, but you’re not eager to turn him away.

“well, i’ve definitely heard about you, and the rumors do not do you justice,” you quip, painting on a flirtatious smile.

eros puffs out his chest, clearly pleased.

over the next few minutes, you decide that eros can hold a decent conversation, asking you the classic first date questions about your likes and dislikes, and he’s cute enough that you wouldn’t mind things going further.

(he might be a god, but he’s no luke. you push that thought away, and force yourself to flirt with helios. eros. right, eros.)

eros leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze drop every so often to the deep v-neck of your shirt.

“no way! 13 going on 30 is a classic,” you argue. you nudge your shoulder into eros’s playfully, and let the contact between you linger. eros, the inspiration for cupid himself, has angel wings, and you feel them brush softly against your burning skin.

“it’s totally overrated!” eros exclaims. “also, the childhood friends to lovers trope gives people false hope.”

“it’s not false hope. it’s about the buildup to their happily ever after,” you reason, swallowing some wine to dislodge the lump in your throat.

eros shakes his head. “trust me, baby, it’s all about the instant attraction. that’s where the excitement is.”

he’s so close now, you can smell the sharp alcohol on his breath. not wine, but something stronger.

“oh? what do you mean by that?” you lean impossibly closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

eros smirks, placing a hand on your thigh. “want me to demonstrate?”

not even a second after you whisper a yes, eros crashes his lips onto yours, and you will yourself to kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body.

you’re making out with the god of desire and passion, so, objectively, it’s a good first kiss: soft around the edges and firm where it needs to be.

sure — you feel nothing, no real spark, but it’s almost enough to fill the hole in your heart in the shape of a certain son of hermes.

the son of hermes who has moved on and is in a loving relationship with a perfect emotionally available partner.

so, it’s fine.

this, this thing with eros, is fine.

you’re fine.

eros pulls away first, but keeps a hand on your cheek.

“let's get out of here.”

he grabs your wrist before you have a chance to answer. you stand up, let him weave you through the crowd towards the stairs of the pavilion. apparently, his room is just through the garden.

as he tugs you along, he looks back at you, smiling. under the glow of the stars, eros looks just like luke, except it’s becoming harder to ignore that he isn’t luke and that makes you feel all sorts of nauseous. your camp necklace weighs on your chest and, in particular, the silver key that you’d kept for all those years burns through your skin.

lightheaded, you pull away from eros’ grip just as you reach the top of the stairs and place a hand on the column next to you to steady yourself.

eros turns around sharply. “what is it?”

“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just…keep talking here.”

eros grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.” his tone is ever-so-gentle, but there’s an edge behind his words.

this time, your voice comes out more assertive. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”

“come on, baby, don’t you wanna experience what real passion is? this is a once in a lifetime opportunity that a million girls would kill for. you’d be an idiot to pass it up.” he brags, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose, god or not.

“i don’t care,” you snap, struggling to break free from his grip. “and i’m not your baby.”

“okay, whatever,” eros rolls his eyes, but quickly plasters on an arrogant grin. “we’ll go somewhere private and i’ll call you whatever you want.”

he manages to drag you down two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage and use your strength to rip out of his grip, forcing eros to stop in his tracks.

“what is it now?” he snaps, whipping his head around once more.

he looks nothing like luke, now.

“just stop, eros.”

“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little kid. so much for being the savior of olympus. “trust me, i know what people want, so you don’t have to be shy. i promise to be the best you’ve ever had —”

“eros, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s percy, giving eros one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. percy, your little brother who talks to lonely fish at the aquarium; who, if you cut open, would bleed blue m&m’s; who would never let anyone, god or otherwise, hurt someone he loves. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my sister.”

“mind your own business, kid,” eros hisses. “we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you down another step, but you stand your ground.

annabeth, no longer the scared little seven year old you, luke, and thalia found behind a dumpster, is also glaring at liam from the top of the stairs. one of her hands rests firmly on her belt, where she keeps her dagger.

“i’d back off, if i were you,” she warns. “wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“just mind your own business,” eros snarls.

“they said leave her alone,” thalia asserts, walking over once she sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” she clenches her hand into a fist.

“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?”

“just let her go,” percy orders. “my sister can do a lot better than a minor god with a major god complex.”

eros growls, baring his teeth at percy. “you impertinent little shit.”

as soon as eros lunges for your brother, you tug one of his wings towards you, hard. he whips around and you take the opportunity to punch him in the face. he doubles over, golden ichor gushing from his nose.

“i’d be careful if i were you, baby,” you seethe. “you wouldn’t want to go up against the demigods who led an army against kronos and won. unless, of course, humiliation is a kink of yours.” you laugh humorlessly at the way eros scowls at your words. “to each their own,” you continue. “but i’m not in the mood to fuck an entitled creep with angel wings to compensate for his tiny dick. you better fucking respect that, and leave us alone while you’re at it.”

eros’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only entitled, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a few blows to their ego.

call it stupidity or arrogance, but his only response is a punch delivered right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but percy manages to reach out and catch you before you fall down the stairs. he holds you as thalia and annabeth create a barrier between you and eros. you hear them shouting at eros over the music, but their exact words don’t register.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is suddenly all fuzzy. percy tries his best, but you slump your body weight into his and he almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” luke’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. “from what i remember, you were too much of a coward to even step foot on the battlefield, so i’d listen to her if you know what’s good for you.” in a haze, you guess that luke is directing his sharp words towards eros, before turning to the others and instructing: “you guys take care of this — find clarisse if you need back up.”

somehow, you find yourself over in a small secluded temple, sitting on a window bench overlooking the clouds as luke sits next to you.

like most of olympus, the building is made of marble with gold accents; this one has roses engraved on the walls, and the space smells like flowery perfume. it’s much quieter than the pavilion, though you can hear laughter and music in the distance. it’s cooler, too, but not by much; even without all the body heat, you're left with sticky summer air, and luke’s breath on yours, sweet with wine and ripe fruit, as he carefully examines your injury.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three.

you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him after all) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.

“thought the curse of achilles would protect you from nosebleeds.”

“guess it doesn’t protect against —” what did percy call eros? “ — minor gods who have major god complexes,” you recite.

luke looks slightly amused. “that’s a shame,” he hums. “would have been nice to get one birthday without being injured.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the dull ache from your nose.

“you remembered.”

“of course i remember,” luke almost scoffs like the mere suggestion of forgetting what day you were born is an insult to his very character. he meets your gaze, and you could melt when he offers you that lopsided smile of his, painfully familiar. “happy birthday, aquagirl,” and it’s the softest he’s spoken to you in a while. just like old times.

he remembers.

somewhere within him, luke holds on to fragments of you.

he wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of his silk white button-down now stained crimson. “how’s your hand?” he asks.

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

“i guess all those years away didn’t change anything. still willing to put a god in their place, huh?”

all those years away.

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, and you’re worried that it might burst the comfortable bubble you and luke had drunkenly stumbled into.

thankfully, luke continues:

“the kids really take after you.”

he says as a joke, mostly, but there’s a sincerity in those deep brown eyes of his, too. something you also hadn’t seen from him in a while.

the kids, who you’d in some ways raised together when monsters were trying to kill you and the gods didn’t care enough to stop it.

the family you and luke had built together despite being born into the world of greek tragedies.

“as if annabeth wasn’t threatening to pull the dagger you gave her, skywalker,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “besides, they’re not kids anymore.”

“yeah.” he pauses. “neither are we.”

luke’s fingers trace your camp necklace, brush against your collarbone. the breath hitches in your throat.

here you are again, at the edge of something real and very scary, and you fear luke is going to push the two of you over.

but he doesn’t. instead, luke suggests, jokingly: “maybe we should start a fight club at camp.”

you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s hoping to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it. before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re practically ignoring each other.

where you’re fine, but really.

you snort. “chiron and mr. d would love that.”

“like they’d ever find out!” luke explains. “you know the first rule of fight club —”

“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together.

luke laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too.

and that’s the thing that really, truly gets you.

try as you might to ignore it, some days it’s hard to forget the pain and heartache and grief.

you still feel like your life is a battlefield; you still see the ghosts of everyone you couldn’t save even though people call you a savior; you still have those scars, inside and out, that seemed healed but ache every once and a while.

but that isn’t all.

sometimes it hurts more thinking back to the good times and knowing, deep down, you can never go back.

summer — age 13

“ugh — you think with all their power, the gods could help stop global warming,” you groaned, swatting away a mosquito that tried to land on you. “do you think they have air conditioning on olympus?”

“oh, for sure,” luke quipped. he gave you a lopsided smile, his curls sticking to his forehead, drenched in sweat.

it was the summer solstice, the longest and the hottest day of the year so far. the two of you had found a perfectly good hideout, but luke insisted that this place would be worth the move.

he’d been leading you down side streets for what felt like forever. the sun had already set, and you were very close to passing out from the heat, until luke finally stopped at a door behind an alley, with a sign reading CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS.

luke knelt down to do whatever son-of-hermes lock magic he had to do to get the door open. he flipped a switch, and you winced at the sudden overwhelming brightness.

the destination was different than the hideouts you usually sprung for: those small, hole-in-the-wall type places. instead, this space was big and bright, filled with arcade games and fun posters and neon colours. the type of place a kid might have a party or where a group of normal teenagers might spend their friday night.

“what…what is this?”

“you thought i forgot, didn’t you?” luke smirked at you. he sat down on the colourful carpet, taking out some snacks, a small plastic bag with coins, a wrapped box, and a plastic blue crown, and gestured for you to join.

you did, in fact, think that luke had forgotten your birthday.

birthdays were bittersweet for children of gods, who were constantly reminded that any year could be their last, their youth cut short by monsters or prophecies or a fatal flaw. all the two of you usually did on either birthday was split any sweet treat you could get your hands on.

it wasn’t a big deal, really, to skip that tradition of yours. there were much more urgent things to worry about, like finding food and water and shelter, and not being devoured by monsters.

you did think it was strange that luke hadn’t so much as said happy birthday to you all day, but you knew that he loved you.

(like a friend loves a friend. nothing else, no matter how much your stomach fluttered at the thought of him.)

“i wanted to surprise you,” luke explained once you claimed your spot next to him. he reached over to place the crown on your head. “i found this place a few days ago during a food run. it reminds me of where we had your —”

“eighth birthday party, yeah.” you smiled at the memory of running around and feeding quarters to every machine and trying every game, of your classmates singing happy birthday to you off-key before you all stuffed your faces with sickly sweet confetti cake.

truthfully, you never thought about having another celebration like that again.

but, it was five years from that faded childhood memory, and luke was presenting you with something you didn’t even realize you had needed: the chance to be a kid again.

“so,” luke got up, a wide smile on his face. he held the plastic bag in one hand, extending the other to you. “which do you wanna play first?”

you started with space invaders, then moved on to dragon’s lair and pac-man. you took a break before street fighter ii so that luke could ceremoniously light a candle and present a cupcake that had been tossed around in his bag (but you were still very, very grateful for), along with fresh batteries for your portable cassette player. he had made you a mixtape too, though you couldn’t figure out how.

your last stop was a photobooth. you vowed to keep those pictures — a collection of you and luke together, smiling bright and colourful, goofing off and laughing — for the rest of your life.

now

those moments from past summers are like popsicles melting in the sun: tangible for a limited time before leaving you with a sickly sweet mess of what once was.

you think about what happened earlier, how percy, annabeth, and thalia stepped in to protect you, still the brave kids you had once known so well. how luke is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve silently agreed to give each other the cold shoulder.

maybe luke is right. maybe all those years away didn’t change anything.

except — once you leave this temple and the alcohol leaves your system, it won’t be the same.

none of you are kids anymore, if you ever even were.

“why’d you go for eros, anyway?” luke asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes his sleeve from your nose since the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah. most gods are assholes. and you’re…” luke places a hand close to your leg, pinky finger brushing your thigh. “you.”

“i went for eros because….well, honestly, i don’t think i cared who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with luke is running out.

luke’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts.

“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s close enough that he’s crystal clear.

“no.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on luke’s — messy and urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you move to straddle his waist. you taste wine on his tongue, and maybe a hint of sweet pears, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him. luke’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.

“luke,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again.

“you’re still bleeding.”

luke wipes away the blood with his thumb. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s an echo of footsteps on the marble floor. a flower nymph, there to leave an offering and let you know that, while aphrodite encourages acts of love, she prefers it doesn’t happen in her place of worship.

you realize that aphrodite also might not look so fondly at you kissing someone else in her place of worship after publicly rebuking her own son.

luke untangles himself from you, and you know that he’s been jolted back to reality, too.

and, just like that, another moment has melted away.

your father was right. time has a way of slipping away for us, immortal or not.

summer — age 18

“hey, you awake?”

“yeah,” you replied softly. sleep hadn’t been easy, in the days and weeks and months leading up to that final battle with kronos and his army.

and once it was all over?

you rested your head on luke’s shoulder, sword discarded at your feet and armour half-removed, as argus, the hundred-eyed security guard of olympus, drove a school bus with a dozen or so demigods back to camp.

“why’d you turn down their offer?” luke whispered.

oh.

"why...why do you ask?"

"i don't know." luke paused. "just curious, i guess."

you closed your eyes and replayed that moment on olympus when you refused the gift of immortality. the look of shock written on the gods’ faces. and on luke’s.

“i don’t care about living forever,” you told him bluntly.

forever seemed too long, especially for someone who was prophesied to die at 18.

you tilted your head up to meet luke’s gaze, and his messy curls brushed against your forehead. evidence of the battle was clear on his face: caked-on dirt and blossoming bruises and dried blood.

behind him, outside the bus window, the world was flying by. a child who had fallen off their bike being comforted by a friend. two people sharing an mp3 player and a pair of earbuds. an elderly couple walking their dog.

“you once told me that this was our life,” you continued, gesturing towards the weapons and battle-worn kids, some quiet, others crying, many injured. “what if it didn’t have to be?”

luke furrowed his brow. “do you mean….are you talking about leaving?”

you shrugged. running from monsters for your entire childhood then being the child of the great prophecy was a lot.

a break might be nice.

there was so much about the world, the one you’d fought and bled to protect, that you wanted to experience.

maybe something closer to a normal life.

“would you ever leave camp?” you wondered, not really answering luke's question.

“no,” luke replied instantly. his fingers started fiddling with the beads on his necklace. “i can’t just walk away, not after everything.”

“yeah, i get that.” and you did; you really, truly, did. the guilt of wanting to leave camp curled in your stomach like a venomous snake. you took a shaky breath. “let’s talk about this later, yeah? i’m tired, and we have the rest of — ”

the rest of the summer slipped away in the blink of an eye. gone, before you even had a real chance to say goodbye.

you closed your eyes and held on to luke, as if gripping his arm would anchor you to something you weren't ready to let go of, but in some ways needed to move on from.

it was no use, though.

by the end of august, you’d be gone too.

now

you learned early on that the curse of achilles doesn’t protect you from hangovers.

you wake up the morning after the celebration on olympus with a deep, throbbing pain lodged in your temple and an uncomfortable swirling in your gut. parties and late nights at bars are common on tour, which means migraines are, too, so you have a routine to make sure you’re not out of commission for too long.

except this time, the aspirin and blue gatorade and dry toast don’t work. the sting in your brain and uneasiness in your stomach doesn’t go away, even after a few days. you haven’t been able to sleep, either.

desperate for a cure, you consult lou ellen, head counsellor of the hecate cabin, who you’d unexpectedly grown close to in the past few weeks. she mixes something for you, while asking if there’s something that’s been weighing on you.

you couldn't keep it in anymore; you tell her about the summer solstice and luke.

later, with nothing but your thoughts and percy’s snoring occupying your time post-curfew, you grab your phone and flip it open, deciding to finally reach out to luke, when you get a text from him.

luke is already on the beach when you arrive, looking out onto the water.

“hey,” you greet as you sit next to him on the sand, but not too close. “i was actually about to text you —”

“did you tell anyone that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.

“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “would it matter if i did?”

“well, i mean, word travels fast around camp, and i don’t want van finding out. it’s not like it meant anything.”

the throbbing in your brain becomes a sharper sting, the uneasiness in your stomach a tidal wave of nausea.

“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to luke’s stoic demeanor.

luke shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with eros happened…we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing?” the word tastes bitter in your mouth.

luke turns away before he answers. “no. nothing.”

“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”

“y/n…” he sighs. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. whatever you came here for, it's not here for you. there's nothing to go back to. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —"

“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, luke.”

it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.

you replay luke’s words as you crawl into bed, holding back tears so as to not disturb percy. finally, you swallow a generous amount of whatever concoction lou ellen had brewed up for you.

drifting off into your own sleep, you decide that you don’t love luke anymore. not as a friend, not as a.....

nope.

according to luke, there's not even anything to go back to.

nothing.

#feel free to comment + reblog <3 #saf writes #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #pjo x reader #luke castellan angst

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curseofdelos · 12 days

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Hi my name is Nico Dark'ness Dementia Raven Di Angelo and I have long ebony black hair (that's how I got my name) and dark eyes like broken glass and a lot of people tell me I look like Gerard Way (AN: if u don't know who he is get da hades out of here!). I have pale olive skin. I'm also a demigod, and I go to a magic summer camp called Camp Half-Blood in North America where I have two camp beads (I'm fifteen). I'm a goth/emo/punk (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I steal all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a brown aviator jacket, black skinny jeans, a silver skull ring, and black combat boots. I was wearing a custom black camp t-shirt with a skeletal pegasus on it. I was walking outside Camp Half-Blood. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of demigods in orange t-shirts stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

#nico di angelo #mine #obligatory 'this is a joke I'm making fun of him out of love' disclaimer

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sinofwriting · 9 days

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Summer - Nico Rosberg

Words: 531 Word Prompt: Summer Note(s): Implied Sugar Daddy Nico Rosberg, Implied Age Gap

Masterlist | Support Me! | Sin’s Sept. Blurbs

“I hate summer.” She moans, hiding her face in the pillows. Nico hums, eyes gliding along the naked expanse of her back. “So horrible.” “The humidity, it was like it was trying to kill me. And I had to wear sneakers and my feet,” she whines, turning over and he hungrily drinks in the view of her top half bare before him. “They even got all hot, Nico.” “I’m sorry.”

She pouts at the distracted tone in his voice and sits up, watching as his eyes stay glued to her breasts. She huffs.

She knew she was being dramatic. But Nico had invited her here because he wanted to spend time with her and then on her first day here he hadn’t spent any time with her. And she had only managed to get one of her two bags from his car before he left, which meant that she had to wander around in the 35 degree heat with sneakers instead of the cute but supportive sandals she had brought.

It was fine though, he had things to do tomorrow as well now and she could just get her revenge on him then.

—

Nico frowns as he enters the apartment he was renting and sees quite a few bags in the living room. They were nice brands, luxury brands, and normally the sight would never bother him, but he struggles to remember ever getting notifications for any of them.

Pulling out his phone, he quickly opens his banking and frowns seeing nothing there.

“Liebling!” He calls out. “Nico! How were the meetings?” Her voice is a bit faint. “They went good. You went shopping?” “Yeah,” her voice is louder and his attention shifts to where the hallway for the bedrooms and bathroom connect to the living room.

His breath catches as he gets a glimpse of her. She was so breathtakingly beautiful it had been a miracle when they first met that he managed to wait a few months to ask her out.

“I got some new tops and a few dresses. Oh, and more of that perfume you like.” He makes a slight humming noise, eyes back on the shopping bags. “You didn’t use my card.” “I have my own money, I didn’t need to use it.” The words feel like a slight stab to the chest. He was aware she didn’t need his money, her father more than made sure of that, but she had never said that before. “But it’s yours to use.” She shrugs, “it was just a bit of shopping.”

The words, I’ll use it next time, don’t follow and that hurts as well.

It must show on his face because she softens and comes closer, her arms wrapping around his waist, lips brushing along his neck.

“Ignore me again, Nico Rosberg, and I’ll cut your card up and buy that necklace you’re wanting to get me for my birthday.” After the last word, she places a sweet kiss to his lips, leaving them a little sticky from her lip gloss before pulling away completely. “Got it?” He nods, tongue darting out to lick his lips, to taste the gloss she left on them. “Got it.”

#nico rosberg imagine #nico rosberg x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #sins fics #Sin's Sept. Blurbs

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asapjens · 7 months

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UNEXPECTED LOVE

PJO: perseus jackson x fem! reader

SYNOPSIS: percy is drawn to this demiegod without knowing who’s her goldy parent.

CATEGORY: fluff

WORD COUNT: 480

It was a hot summer at Camp Half-Blood, and Percy was back for another action-packed break. As he strolled through the familiar grounds, Annabeth approached with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Hey, Seaweed Brain. You won't believe who's here," Annabeth exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement.

Percy raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Who?"

"Come on, I'll introduce you," Annabeth said, leading him towards a group of demigods gathered near the campfire.

Among them stood a girl with a contagious smile and a warm aura. Annabeth made the introductions, and as Percy got to talk to her, he was struck by her unwavering positivity and the way she effortlessly lifted the spirits of those around her.

As the days passed, Percy found himself drawn to her magnetic energy. He admired how she always saw the silver lining, even in the most inconvenient situations. Her optimism was like a breath of fresh air in the midst of demigod life.

One day, as they sat by the lake, Nico di Angelo opened up about how his father's reputation always seemed to affect him, and Y/N, in her ever-optimistic way, comforted him.

“Look Nico, I know that it seems like your father is doing all of this just to make your life complicated, but you have to remember you’re not your father's actions.”

Her words resonated deeply with Percy, and he couldn't help but admire her even more. Percy couldn't help but be curious about Y/N's own background, as he had never paid much attention to such things.

When he finally mustered the courage to ask her, he definitely didn’t see that one coming.

"Hey” Percy asked, "who's your godly parent anyway? I don't think I ever caught that."

You looked nervous as she admitted, "Um, my father is Ares."

Percy's eyes widened in surprise, and he was thoroughly confused. Y/N, the nicest girl he’d ever known, who always saw the good in everything, the girl who always tried to avoid conflict and was always relaxed, couldn’t possibly be related to the God who has tried to kill Percy multiple times.

Ares and he had a long and tumultuous history, and it was no secret that most of Ares' children didn't exactly adore him.

"Yeah, I know, it's pretty wild," You said with a shrug. "But when I found out, I realized that's why I used to get so mad all the time.”

Percy raised his eyebrows at that. You angry?

“I used to always get mad about everything and everyone without a reason, I used to think that everyone was out there to screw me over,” You explained to Percy, still managing a smile and comforting aura.

“So, when I found out, I started to work really hard to become this new, relaxed, and peaceful person."

Percy was taken aback by her honesty and resilience.

“Well, even though Ares and most of his children hate me, I – I really like you, Y/N. And I’m not afraid to put up with some of Ares' shi- mhm.. challenges,” Percy said, biting down the last words and smiling softly at you.

Your eyes widened in surprise, but then a radiant smile spread across your face. "I'd like that, Percy," you said softly, your positivity shining through even in this unexpected moment.

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fryingpan1234567 · 1 year

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some CHB headcanons

every cabin has LEDs around the inside, but there’s a constant battle over what color they are

Percy has his rippling back and forth from teal to blue and it looks like light dancing through water all over his walls and floor

the Apollo cabin can usually settle for orange and yellow as a common ground

the Aphrodite kids have a different color for each time of day and sleep with pink on the lowest brightness setting

the Hermes cabin has like ten different strips and they’re all constantly shifting

Demeter cabin’s shifts with the seasons

ANYWAYS MOVING AWAY FROM THE LEDS

they have movie nights, which I will talk about in a different post

before everybody goes back to school, the Aphrodite and Hecate cabins have a massive salon at the end of the summer with new haircuts and magic hair dye and outfit recommendations and fake but enchanted sturdy nails and a whole bunch of other stuff and basically it’s a week straight of spilling hot tea between everyone in camp

if someone asks where a camper got their hair done when they get back to school they just go “oh, um… summer camp.” and their friends will snort and be like bro isn’t summer camp the opposite of a makeover?? but they get no argument, just a shrug and a half smile

when I tell you pride month over there is a fucking riot

because Mr. D is in on it, right?? because he’s the god of gender?? and Chiron is aroace and has been raising dumbass gay heroes for literal centuries?? PLUS the sheer fucking amount of queer peeps up in there?? dude yeah

cabins competing for who shows the most pride

Demeter’s roof is covered in rainbow flowers

Hecate’s is enchanted to emit actual light in whatever flag colors of whoever uses the front door, even when they’re straight (it’s just a rainbow)

Percy collects a bunch of shed scales from the hippocampi at the bottom of the lake and then puts them all over his cabin

I could make a whole post about CHB pride but

every single Apollo kid is also a theater kid fight me

Rachel Elizabeth Dare painted a skateboard for Percy’s birthday and he brings it everywhere now, it even sits in his backpack at school

Leo, Annabeth, Percy, and Piper fucking love horror movies. Frank, Hazel, and Jason fucking hate them. They watch through their fingers, if at all

Piper loves the band Surfaces with all her heart, but she also is a die hard Green Day and P!ATD fan

Jake Mason is covered in burn scars up to his neck, just like Deadpool, just not bald lol

Hephaestus and Apollo kids faintly radiate warmth (like more so than a normal person)

the Stolls sometimes stay at camp year-round because their mom is off on international missions that are too high-risk for them to help with

the seven are AVID Smash Bros players

really everyone but

not as many people go to the Athena campers for help with homework as you might think, but whenever anyone does, they’re happy to help

the sun chariot blasts music at a frequency only the Apollo kids can hear, so their life kind of has a shitty soundtrack that consists of a mix of Broadway, Queen, modern stuff, and random bits of Beethoven every now and then

the Romans swear on few occasions

the Greeks know when to swear and when to be polite

the Valhalla peeps swear unbridled and all the time

the Egyptians never swear (in English)

for the longest time, Will Solace thinks the only gift from his dad is his healing prowess— which is obviously great, but he expresses being upset over the fact that he’s not very good at archery

well, considering this is the dumbass who didn’t bring a weapon to actual fucking Tartarus, Nico drags him to the weapon shack thing immediately afterwards and made him pick something out

he's immediately drawn to the Celestial Bronze shotgun.

Nico’s just like “what in the redneck shit did you just pick up” and Will jokingly aims it at his chest and grins and says “you know I’m from Texas, right?”

that’s how they find out Will is one of the damn best marksmen in Greek demigod history

some of the Disney nerds in the Apollo cabin sing What Once Was Mine to the little ones who need bandaids for knee scrapes and give them lollipops afterwards

Percy Jackson absolutely used to make poverty and struggle meal jokes all the time, but he got weird and concerned looks for it at CHB, so he kind of just stopped. But one day, aboard the Argo II, the PERFECT opportunity came up and he just HAD TO and as per usual— everyone else looked at him like he’s crazy— but Leo laughed so hard chocolate milk came out of his nose and that’s the story of how the two of them became Best Friends

#anyways idk what came over me #riordanverse #percy jackson #leo valdez #jason grace #Annabeth Chase #hazel levesque #frank zhang #piper mclean #Will Solace #nico di angelo #solangelo #valgrace #Jake Mason #connor stoll

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mikkomacko · 1 year

Text

Straight From a Romance Novel

Pairing: Nico Hischier x female reader

Summary: Nico's trying to get his girls attention but is thrown for a loop when she's more interested in the book she's reading. After prying, he finds out why

Warnings: smut, literally the whole thing is just smut lol, cursing

A/n: Uncanny timing that I finish this as the whole book tok thing is happening but this has nothing to do with hockey romance novels lol...still funny timing though.

Anyway, hope y'all enjoy!

The house in Switzerland is always quieter than their home in Jersey. Without their friends and teammates running around, chatting and laughing over music or something on the tv, the calm house almost feels empty. And for a moment, Nico thinks it might be. The kitchen is empty, any remaining presence of the large dinner you shared only a couple hours before has been wiped clean, revealed only by the humming dishwasher.

He finds the living room empty as well, the tv off and couch cushions missing ruffles and dents in the spot she usually curls up on. Every throw pillow and blanket is perfectly fluffed and placed. He doesn’t even bother checking the sunroom attached to the living room, seeing that the room is dark and the glass door most likely locked.

Usually she sprawls out on the patio furniture there when he goes for his evening run, watching the sun set and painting her nails or crocheting. Sometimes he even comes home to her asleep out there, the open windows blowing the summer breeze in, carrying the sounds of chirping crickets with it.

Nico takes a swig of his water bottle, gripping the hem of his sweaty shirt and lifting it to wipe at his mouth. He decides to just rip off the soiled cloth, pulling it over his head and swiping at his damp chest and neck. Still trying to rid himself of sweat, he drags the fabric down his abdomen and around to his back, moving down the hallway as he does so.

It’s the warm smell of vanilla that leads him to her, it’s aroma drifting into the hall. He smiles, let’s the scent soak into his nose and lungs, stirring up thoughts of her. It’s her favorite, vanilla. It’s in her perfume, her hair products, her lotions and oils, probably even her deodorant.

Through the open door he spots her, nestled into a stack of pillows against the headboard of their shared bed. Her hair is pulled back in a loose braid that falls over her shoulder, messy and half undone because she always tugs out pieces to twirl around her finger as she gets ready for bed. Sweater paws hold a book out in front of her, the string of whatever hoodie she snagged from him pinched between her teeth. And sure enough, a vanilla candle burns on the nightstand next to her.

Nico steps into the room, admires the look of concentration on her face as he carelessly kicks his shoes off by the dresser. She doesn’t react to him, instead flips the page and drags her eyes across the first paragraph. He approaches the side of the bed, laying his wet shirt over his shoulder as he cups the back of her head. She hums distractedly, leans a bit towards him but doesn’t dare stop reading. He knows she likes to end chapters before bed so he simply presses a kiss to her temple and right below her ear. Her skin is hot and dewy under his lips, most likely from the sweater she’s wearing and he makes a mental note to get it off of her the moment he crawls into bed.

But for now he disappears into the master bathroom, shrugging off his clothes and dropping them in the hamper. A quick cool shower refreshes him, eases his bones and muscles to the point that he feels like jello when he enters the bedroom again. She’s still in the same spot on the bed, nose in her book but he’s hoping the sight of him crossing their room in nothing but a towel will catch her attention.

Nico digs out a pair of boxers, dropping his towel so he can pull them up his legs. Once the band sits low on his hips he pretends to fix his hair in the dresser mirror, utilizing the chance to peek at her in the reflection. To his utter dismay, she’s still got her eyes on the stupid pages of the book. He’s about to sigh, maybe pout a bit, and open and slam the drawer again so she’ll look at him. Until he notices the look on her face.

What he thought was concentration before is in fact something else. The way she’s tucked her lip into her mouth, teeth turning the flesh ruby red. Wide eyes, intrigued and excited as they flutter over the pages. No not excited, enticed. And her warm skin he’d felt earlier, he decides, isn’t from her sweatshirt. He bets he could see her pulse beating in her neck if he got close enough.

If it weren’t for that stupid book Nico would think that she did in fact watch him get dressed and is trying to hide how flustered it made her. But she’s been warm and distracted like that since he walked in the room. What is she reading?

He turns around, arms crossing over his chest as he just watches her. If she notices his staring she doesn’t care because her fingers just flip the page and her teeth continue to gnaw at her lips. It distracts him for a moment, the way her bottom one has swelled and bled into the skin around her lips. It reminds him of how good her smile always looks after he’s messily kissed her breathless.

It’s the movement of her legs that brings him back to his task. She uncrosses her legs for just a second, stretching them across the bed before swapping her right leg over the left. He catches the way she wiggles, how her bare toes curl just for a beat and his stomach swoops.

She’s reading porn.

There’s no way she’s not. He knows her tells, her mannerisms when she’s turned on. Knows how her eyes light up and grow hungry, all starry and desperate. He’s seen first hand how her skin flushes and grows warm, how he can press his tongue to the pulse in her neck and feel her heart pounding.

Intrigued, Nico moves towards the foot of the bed. He wills his smirk to go away, playing innocent as he knees his way onto the mattress. On instinct she separates her legs for him, allowing him to climb up her body. Nico has a habit of snuggling into her like this when she reads so he barely has to duck down under her book as she lifts it for him. Settling his hips in her parted thighs, Nico rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes with his nose pressed into her neck. Sure enough he can hear the rapid beat of her heart, smell the arousal on her neck.

“Baby,” he murmurs as her elbows come to rest on his back. Nico doesn’t need to look to know she’s still reading, but he feels her hum in response.

“Do you love me?”

She laughs quietly. “I love you Nico.”

He smiles, presses his lips to her neck and teases the tip of his tongue along her warm skin. Her breath shudders, a leg comes up around his waist and nudges him closer. He hisses quietly, the semi he’s been sporting since he realized what she was doing presses comfortably into her thighs.

“Will you read to me?”

She hesitates. He hears her heart beat jump. “No…”

“Please?” He begs, “I want to hear the story.”

She giggles nervously. “I don’t want to.”

Nico nips at her neck again, shifting his hips into her even more. The thin cotton underwear she’s wearing does nothing to hide the heat between her legs.

“Because you’re reading something dirty?”

Almost immediately she shuts the book, jolting as much as she possibly can with his weight on her. Nico grins devilishly as she moves to shove the book under the pillows.

He laughs, pushing himself up to his knees so he can make a grab for the book but she hugs it to her chest instead, squealing at his pawing hands. Nico tries to wiggle his large hands under her elbows and then her biceps, anywhere to gain access to that book but she just laughs and squeezes it tighter. It gets to the point that his grabby hands are just tickling her, making her curl up into herself and putting the book even more out of reach.

“Let me see!” He shouts through giggles, cheeks throbbing from smiling so hard. She laughs again, shaking her head no and somehow managing to wiggle onto her stomach under him. With the book now hidden between her and the mattress, Nico rests all his weight on the back of her thighs, pining her down.

“My arms are falling asleep,” she says breathlessly, looking at him over her right shoulder. Nico scoops her hair out of the way, pushing it over her left shoulder so she can see him better.

“Give me the book and I’ll let you go.”

She scoffs, still refusing. Knowing she’ll have to give in eventually Nico simply drapes himself over her back, ghosting his lips over the back of her neck. Goosebumps rise on her skin and she shivers, wiggling under him with a tiny giggle. Smirking, Nico presses the bulge in his boxers into her butt, letting his small moan run over her neck in a hot breath.

“Nico stop,” she protests quietly, and if he thought she actually meant it he would. But he can hear it in her voice, how turned on she is. She knows he’s going to break her, even if he has to use his mouth and hands to do it. He’s determined to see that book and if he has to rile her up, tease her into giving it to him, he will.

“Stop what?” He murmurs innocently, sitting up and ghosting his hand down her back. His fingers find the hem of her sweatshirt, pushing it up to reveal the dimples at the base of her spine and the curve of her bottom. He presses his thumb into the dip, licking his lips when he hears the pleasured noise she chokes back. Nico grips her side, holds her still so he can press himself into her even more.

She laughs softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Stop putting your dick on me!”

Nico laughs, amused at her whininess and her words. For a moment he lets himself feel the bubble of love in his chest, the way it makes him float, tethered to the ground by nothing but her. He almost abandons all thoughts of seeing that book in favor of seeing her especially when his other hand falls to her waist, gripping her side and rutting his hips forward on instinct.

It’s just enough to tease him, to remind him of what it feels like to have her bent over their bed like this while he makes them feel good. Sometimes this is what he thinks about on long road trips away from her, when he wants to replay the pleasure in his head. He pictures her on their bed. And what about her? Does she read this stuff? Is it the words of someone else that makes her feel good when he’s not home?

“No,” Nico finally says, an edge of whininess in his own tone now. He doesn’t like the thought of her preferring that stupid book over him. “not until you let me see that book.”

She groans in annoyance, turning her head to bury her face in the pillows of the bed. Nico eases up on her, lifts his weight back into his knees so he’s just caging her in. With the space to move again, she flops back over onto her back, his hands following her movements as she goes.

Nico smiles when she looks at him, her cheeks flush and eyes shift over his face. She’s nervous, he realizes and not just in a please-fuck-me way but actual anxiety. He softens, cups her face in his right hand and leans down to press his lips to hers. It’s just a quick, soft peck but the reassurance he was trying to convey must come across as she lets out a breath of relief.

“Just want to know what you like,” Nico explains “I’m not going to tease or laugh. S’like I just want to know what I’m competing with.”

Her hold on the book slackens the tiniest bit. “Compete with?” She questions “Nico you have no competition. Nothing could even compare.”

Pride swells in his chest. Her praise makes his veins buzz, his dick throb in his boxers. He’s tempted to pull himself from the fabric, provide a little relief from how tight his underwear has gotten but now might not be the time.

“Still,” he presses “I’m curious my love.”

She rolls her eyes but a smile tugs at her lips and he knows he’s won her over. Eager, Nico bites at his bottom lip and sits back on his haunches, hands running down her thighs appreciatively.

“Fine,” she relents “but you have to close your eyes.” Nico opens his mouth to object, already prepared to lean foreword and bribe her with kisses. “And only a page!”

“That’s not fair!”

“My book, my rules Hischier. Now close ‘em.”

Huffing, Nico does as told and closes his eyes. Surrounded by darkness, his other senses peak, making him hyper aware of her warm skin and heavy breaths. The rustle of the book as she flips to her previous page is loud in his ears and it makes his stomach knot with anticipation. His mind reels, flashing through different scenarios she could be reading about and each one he pictures behind closed eyelids has his dick growing thicker. He feels a bit pathetic when it only takes her a minute to find her spot in the book and he’s already on the verge of reaching down to rub one out because he’s so excited.

Before he can really think about it she’s clearing her throat softly, her legs adjusting under him just the tiniest bit. He wonders if she’s still nervous about reading to him, not that she should be.

“Kay,” she croaks quietly, “you ready?”

Nico nods, licking over his lips anxiously and digging his fingers into her thick thighs to ground himself. He’s not too sure he likes this whole not being able to see thing, but for her he’ll try anything.

“She had never met someone like him, been with someone like him. She had only known one kind of loving, the hard and fast kinds that felt good in the moment but burned out quickly. It only lingers for as long as the muscles in her thighs burn and by the time the sweat on her skin has dried, she’s left with nothing but that too fast lover next to her.

“Jax is different-“

Nico scrunches his nose at the name of this man, thinking it’s far too close to the name Jack and far too different from his own name.

“With him comes passion. A slow burning candle rather than a fast lit fuse. She likes that he takes his time, drags his mouth over every inch of skin he can get. Just as he does now. Plump, wet lips moving up her thighs, soft in their kiss but rough with intent. Jax nips at her flesh, licks closer and closer to the bundle of nerves he’d just abused with his fingers-“

He can hear in her voice how enthralled she is with this man, or at least with what he’s doing. Her words are breathy and hot, some barely murmurs from her lips. Nico can’t seem to tell if he should be jealous of this fake character or impressed. In just a paragraph Jax has knocked his girl breathless and horny, filled her voice with a lust that has Nico’s cock aching.

She continues reading, retelling Jax’s wet and sloppy head performance on the main character but Nico’s not exactly paying attention anymore. Not to the book at least. Instead he’s listening to her, soaking in the sound of her describing what it feels like on the woman’s side. How it burns in her belly, swirls in her chest, curls her toes. He likes hearing her breath catch when she talks about how it aches, how she’s greedy for the pleasure this man provides.

It’s like she’s physically remembering what that feels like. His girl pauses for a moment, her soft pants filling the air and he suddenly realizes how hard he’s breathing, how sweat is building on his neck and shoulders. He’s holding her thighs for dear life, clutching at her like she might disappear under his fingertips.

“Don’t stop,” he begs quietly, desperate to hear her repeat the moment this girl in the book comes. He needs to know if there’s reminiscing in her tone, if she’s recalling moments she’s felt that good as she reads.

“I don’t want to read anymore,” she replies, and he hears her shut the book. He opens his eyes just in time to see her carelessly toss it to the floor. The room is bright when he looks down at her and black spots swim in his vision from how tightly he’d closed his eyes.

She looks up at him with dark eyes, her lips swollen and bitten red. Her teeth catch the bottom one again, sinking into the flesh and his painfully hard dick throbs so deep it hurts in his gut. As if sensing his pain, her eyes flicker down to his lap. Instinctively, Nico widens his thighs for her, welcoming her closer. Abiding, she lifts a hand from the bedsheets and places it over the one he now has splayed across her belly, squeezing his fingers momentarily. Then she’s trailing her fingers towards him, slow and teasing.

“You like the book?” She questions with a hint of amusement. Nico’s brain swirls, his eyes watching her fingertips dance down her sweater and towards the bulge in his boxers. When he doesn’t answer she slows her movements and he huffs frustratedly before finally coming up with a response.

“Is that what it feels like?” He asks “For you? S’that why you read it?”

His tone isn’t condescending or mean, not a hint of judgment on his tongue. He’s just intrigued, curious. Nico never in a million years thought a porn book could turn him on let alone his girl, especially when they’ve got each other to help out. He wants to know what it is that made her read that book instead of coming to him.

“Kind of,” she responds, her hand now on his thigh. “He reminds me of you.”

Nico swallows. Hard. His tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth and her fingers suddenly weigh heavy on his skin. He tries to think of something to say, knows he has a million things he could say to her but nothing comes to mind. She thinks this guy is like him?

“Some of the things he does.” She continues “How he teases and picks on her but he’s still safe and sweet. And he’s strong but not with her.

"It's you, you're straight from a romance novel."

God she hasn’t even touched him yet and he thinks he’s going to come. With every little compliment his cock thickens more (if that’s even possible) and his skin is buzzing. Like a flip has switched, his mouth waters, his mind slows down just enough for him to meet her gaze. Her pupils blown wide and dark, eyes shiny with need. He smirks.

“Can’t even read a book without thinking of me?” He murmurs “I’m that good huh?”

She simpers, realizing he’s come back to himself. “So good Nico.”

He swipes his hands under her sweater, pushes it up her abdomen and chest until she has to pull her hand back. She sits up just enough for him to pull it over her head, tossing it to floor as he takes in her newly exposed skin. Not that he really needs to. He could draw her body ten shots in and with his eyes closed.

While he’s busy admiring the dip of her collarbones, the way her nipples have hardened in the cool air, she sneaks her hand back down between them. Nico’s just made up his mind to mark her left breast with his teeth when she cups his cock through his underwear.

White flashes in his vision, tingles of pleasure shooting down his legs and he practically falls forward into her from how sensitive he’s grown. Nico crashes his mouth into her smiling one, silencing her amused giggles with his tongue. He nips at her bottom lip, grunting when she methodically squeezes him in her palm.

“You gonna let me make you come like that?” He asks, lips ghosting over hers. She holds his gaze, eyes dreamy and far off like he’s just kissed her silly. “On my tongue? Always taste so good sweetheart.”

It takes a second, but she eventually mumbles a displeased sound. “Just want you to fuck me Nico. Been waiting long enough.”

She catches his lips again, this time taking over as she swipes her tongue at his bottom lip before drawing back and sinking her teeth into it. He hisses, ruts his hips into her hand.

“Could’ve been fucking you a while ago if you’d put down that book,” he informs, pushing himself back up to his knees. "I even put on a little show for you before I got dressed."

Nico wraps his fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand back from him and instead bringing it up to his mouth. She whines at his interruption, eyebrows pinching together but he just smiles, pressing lazy kisses to her palm and fingers.

“You know I looked,” she whispers, eyes flickering down his body just once before meeting his gaze again. “I always look.”

Teasing, Nico cocks his head to the side. “Still pretended like you didn’t see me? Ouch babe.”

Something like shyness bleeds into her features, her gaze growing bashful. “Didn’t want to be needy.”

Oh his sweet girl. Doesn’t she know that she’s always needy? It’s one of his favorite things about her. How clingy and pliant she gets when he fucks her, when she’s desperate for his touch.

Nico intertwines their fingers, pushing them onto the pillow by her head as he leans back down to kiss her.

“Never stopped you before…” he murmurs, kissing her chin. Before she can respond he’s getting up, pulling her with him by the hand until they’re both standing at the bottom of the bed. His hands move to her hips, drawing her up to her tip toes and into his chest. She complies, rising to meet his mouth as she holds his face between her palms.

Her skin is soft and warm under his fingertips, begging to be traced and worshipped by him. Nico tugs her in closer, her belly pressing into his cock has his knees shaking and she greedily swallows the moan that escapes him.

Slipping his fingers into the waistband of her underwear, Nico drags his hand around to her ass, pawing at his favorite part of her. Well almost favorite, he still fucking loves her smile more than anything else.

She parts from his mouth, panting out a whimper when he digs his nails into her skin just enough to sting. The sound has him needy for more, aching to hear her again so he tugs down her underwear. He works it down her thighs until the cotton fabric falls to her ankles where she trips trying to kick it away, stumbling just enough that her arms lock around his neck for stability. The moment tugs him forward, his nose bumping into the corner of her eye.

He cups her face, running the pad of his thumb over the outer corner of her eye as she giggles. She’s clearly not in any pain or discomfort from the little bump in, but Nico kisses the area just to be safe before connecting his mouth to hers again. Her arms fall from his neck to his abdomen, fingers tracing over the dips of his stomach for a moment but when he trembles with shivers she moves them to his back. While she’s busy mapping out his spine his fingers find the end of her messy braid. She might not like it but he slips the hair tie off anyway, blindly unbraiding her oiled hair.

“Blegh,” he jokes, pulling his hand back from her hair and scrunching his nose “what is that?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes shoving his hand down. He grabs her waist, smoothing his hand back over her ass. “It’s oil to protect my ends while I sleep.”

“You couldn’t have done that after we have sex?”

“I was ready for bed!” She exclaims around a laugh, shaking her head when he just grins at her. Nico loves this, loves her. And he really loves that he’s lucky enough to fondle her butt and make her smile at the same time. He thinks he could probably die here in this moment and be happy.

She has other ideas.

“Oh fuck!”

One of her hands has snuck into his boxers, pulling the band back enough for his cock to spring up and her to fit her fingers around the width of him. The feeling of her warm fingertips on his sensitive skin jolts him, almost makes his knees buckle as pleasure shoots down his legs.

He never knows how she manages to get ahold of him so quickly and smoothly like that but it drives him wild every time. It’s like she knows to distract him with her beautiful laugh and pretty little eyes just so she can surprise him like that.

“Now that you’ve messed up my hair,” she tantalizes, leaning in close to his face. Her lips ghost over his, breath warm on his face. “Are you gonna finish the job Nico?”

Nico closes the gap, bites at her bottom lip harshly before soothing his tongue over it. He’s rough with it, more than he has been all night but if she’s going yo keep teasing him he’s going to make her pay for it.

Before the kiss can get too distracting he’s pulling back, licking his lips as he uses his hold on her ass and waist to spin her around. Her gasp of surprise has him smirking, nudging her forward onto the bed with a gentle but sturdy hand on the back of her neck.

“Finish the fucking job,” he mutters under his breath, lips quirking into a smile when she giggles into the mattress. “Just how I like it.”

He smoothes his hands over her ass as he says it, presses his slightly clothed cock forward. His toes curl, eyelids fluttering as he ruts into her once just to tease himself a bit more. The little bead of precum that slips out of the bare head of his cock is enough though, and he quickly shoves his underwear down with his left hand.

They get kicked off to the side somewhere, immediately forgotten in favor of the enticing woman bent over in front of him. Nico drops his hand between her spread thighs, two fingers growing straight to her dripping cunt. She mewls, arching her back as he spreads her wetness around. If he were feeling more patient tonight he’d take a moment to make her cum on his fingers but his cock is far too hard and heavy to do that now.

Instead he grips himself with the fingers that had just been teasing her, holding the base of his cock steady as he presses the head of him into her folds. She’s so fucking warm and inviting, her hips tilting to try and get him to push in further but he holds, inhaling deeply to keep himself bursting as soon as he’s fully seated inside her.

“Nico,” she whines, drawing out the last letter “more, please more.” And who is he to deny to his sweet girl, especially after she asked him so nicely. In one swift motion Nico fills her up, thighs and hips flush against her damp skin.

The noise he lets out is almost pathetic, a borderline whimper that squeaks out from the back of his throat the moment his cock is enveloped by her slick walls. But it’s nothing compared to her own sounds, whiny and pleasured gasps that make his stomach twist in pleasure.

Settling himself, Nico inhales deeply and talked a hold of her hips in both hands. He can’t hold back any longer, head titling back as he finally moves. With the knowledge that her book and his teasing had worked her up into a frenzy, Nico decides they’ve both had enough foreplay.

He’s deep and thorough with it, fucking into her until his lower belly is tight against the curve of her ass and then pulling back until just the tip of him teases at her walls.

“Oh fuck,” Nico groans when she rocks back on him, squeezing his cock. It feels good, she feels so fucking good. But he wants to fuck her, not the other way around.

He gathers her hair in his right hand, weaving the strands around his fingers tightly. He makes sure not to pull but keeps his hold strong enough that she’ll stop grinding back on him.

Nico waits for her to still before picking up his pace again, rutting his hips forward before pulling back, dragging his thick cock through her walls. Hitching forward, Nico presses his chest to her back, free hand wrapping around to hold the pudge of her stomach. She goes soft in his embrace, collapsing to the mattress until just his hands are keeping her up.

“Good girl,” he purrs in her ear, chuckling huskily when she clenches down on his cock and he ruts into her again. “My good girl…”

Pressing a wet kiss just below her ear, Nico straightens back up so he can have the leverage he needs to make her cum. And he does just that, holding her ass up and wrapping his fingers around her hair, Nico drives his cock into her until her knees wobble and give out. She squeezes his cock, pulsing with every deep push of his hips and whimpering into their bed sheets.

Nico’s arms burn from holding her up, thighs tight from being tensed for too long and the pull behind his belly button is so strong it’s uncomfortable. Still, he chases his own high, eyes fluttering shut and head tilted back as he abuses her spent pussy.

“Come on Nico,” he hears her encourage, voice begging. It makes his toes curl, the coil in his belly tighten even more. “I want you to come, please come for me.”

White stars burst behind closed eyelids, veins buzzing and burning in the best way possible as Nico releases his load into her. Cock still throbbing, he falls forward into her, squishing her between him and the mattress.

“Fuck me,” Nico mumbles, planting a kiss to her shoulder blade. Unable to stop himself, he ruts into her one more time just to hear how wet she is, feel how full he’s left her. She whimpers, overstimulated and tries to wiggle away but he’s got her pinned. Not that it matters, if he moves anymore he thinks his dick might fall off.

“M’gonna have to read that book of yours,” he declares, pushing himself up now that his muscles feel semi-normal. Gently, he slips out of her, cupping his softening member in his palm. She laughs as he promises to return in a second, moving into the bathroom for a towel. He cleans himself up before going back to her, still perched on the edge of the bed. Nico has to physically stop himself from looking between her thighs where he knows his cum probably dripping from her, afraid he’ll somehow get hard again.

“Would you hurry,” she dramatically complains, her smile present in her tone “my legs are tired.”

Snorting, Nico quickly helps clean her up, wiping the mess between her legs before folding the towel up and wiping at the sweat on her back with the dry area. He dots kisses to her bare skin as he does so, lightly slapping her ass before he discards of the soiled towel.

He digs up their discarded pjs, slipping his boxers back on before helping her into a shirt and her underwear. She’s braiding her hair again when Nico tucks himself into his side of the bed, finding her book by his nightstand.

Smirking he grabs it, humming thoughtfully while she quickly gets ready for bed. “Read me a bedtime story?” He requests, jutting out his bottom lip when she turns to face him.

Laughter bubbles out of her when she sees the book in his hand, rolling her eyes as she ties off her braid and climbs onto the bed.

“That’s enough of that book tonight,” she says, tugging it from his fingers and putting it back on the nightstand. Nico watches her slip under the blankets, rearranging her pillows before slipping low under the sheets.

She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts him.

Nico shuts off the bedside lamp, leaving them in the darkness before he too settles lower on the pillows. Then he wiggles closer to her, tucking himself into her side and throwing a leg over hers. She giggles, lays her hand over his before turning her head to him.

“I love you Nico,” she whispers, eyes glowing in the little bit of light in the room.

“Love you more sweetheart.” He replies, sealing their lips together for a chaste goodnight kiss. They break apart, settling in for sleep as the events of the night catch up with them. Nico’s barely conscious when he makes a mental reminder to find her more dirty books.

#nico hischier #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier smut

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ohmyeyesmyeyes · 1 month

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always a good morning - nh13

summary: (nh13 x f!reader) a snapshot into a morning at the swiss alps with our favourite devils captain! inspired by headband nico!

warnings: suggestive content, fluff, not checked! 2.4k words

< a/n: i've hit such bad writer's block i literally can't even tell you so i went back to my roots: brunettes with big brown eyes!! >

You inhaled at the feel of your heart rate quickening, something having thrown your mind from its restful slumber to suddenly being conscious of your surroundings.

It was freezing, that was the first thing you noticed. You could feel the duvet cover draped across your shoulders but it was cold to touch, like a window had been left open during the night and cooled the one thing that was supposed to keep you warm. There was a draft somewhere down your back, the chilly air swirling up your sleep shirt and down your bare legs, and without thinking much of it, you pulled the duvet higher, nuzzling back down into your pillow.

Maybe if you stayed still enough and tried not to focus on the pounding of your heart, which was clearly telling you to get up for whatever reason, you’d be able to trick yourself into falling back to sleep. Maybe.

You were certainly still tired enough: your eyes felt dry and your bones felt heavy, your entire body and mind fully sinking into the mattress and pillows gladly and with a sigh of relief. You could feel your hair smeared across your forehead at an unnatural angle, and your top was twisted uncomfortably, but the mere thought of reaching around to move it was exhausting to even entertain.

You sighed, breathing into your pillow, feeling the last dregs of sleep begin to wither away. Your heart rate wasn’t slowing and you could feel yourself fight the urge to open your eyes. Suddenly the idea of burrowing back under the covers only awakened the desire to sit up straight and take in the view – when had you become a morning person?

The sigh turned into an impatient huff of resignation, your previous thoughts of sleep abandoned completely, and you slowly peeled your eyes open, peering out from under the covers.

The foot of the bed was a heavy mess of blankets strewn around, clearly having been kicked off at some point in the night, and your eyes jumped over the chair filled with clothes and bags before settling on the open window to your left. For the sake of the view of the cloudy mountains and the utterly breathtaking green outside, you ignored the sleeping hunk of a back also on your left.

Though it could barely have been five seconds before you turned your attention back to him. That always seemed to happen, no matter where you were or what you were doing – Nico was much too magnetic for his own good.

You were still curled up where you’d woken initially, one arm tucked underneath your pillow, the other resting comfortably on top of the sheets. It was the space between you both that gave you the answer as to why you’d woken up cold: you were perched on one side of the bed, and Nico on the edge of his. The reason? You’d both seemingly drank enough the night before to not take any notice of the sides you’d fallen into, because he was on your side and you were on his.

You blinked slowly, poking some sleep out of the corner of your eyes before glancing back at him quickly. His back was facing you, broad shoulders blocking some of the light from the window you’d obviously forgotten to cover with curtains the night before. His skin had a brownish glow to it, evidence from the dream-like string of vacations he’d taken this summer, and you restrained the urge to reach out and press your palm against the skin there, knowing with absolute certainty he’d feel like he’d just crawled out of the sun.

You were so cold because he wasn’t near enough to act as a human hot water bottle, keeping everything just the right temperature.

You weren’t even sure how he did it, not in the early morning breeze, because he’d shuffled the duvet down to his waist and you could see he’d untucked one leg from underneath to come to rest on top of the covers.

It seemed your mind had made up the solution to your little problem before you’d even managed to comprehend it because you’d suddenly pulled the duvet into your fist taut enough to shuffle subtly closer, just enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin, but not close enough to touch him.

You thought about pressing your feet into the backs of his calves, but judging from the sun just peaking round the mountains it can’t have been any later than six in the morning–

The bed shook violently, almost reminiscent of how someone would jump in their skin after falling down the stairs in a dream, and the sudden jolt had your eyes flying open, mind a complete jumble as you blinked the remnants of sleep away.

When did you fall back to sleep?

There was a groan of “woah” from the body in front of you, deep and gravelly, both hinting at the alcohol consumption last night and the early morning disruption of…whatever had happened there.

Your brows furrowed at the intense light streaming through the window, and you could barely open your eyes from squinting hard against it. Yet, you could still make out the silhouette of a shoulder moving in front of you, and still make out the thick head of hair combed back with the sudden appearance of a hand you knew all too well.

“What the fuck?” Nico grumbled, and the mattress bobbled again, prompting you to pull yourself into a sitting position, hair falling into your face before you managed to push it all back.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you’d slept but it must have been at least two hours later: the sun was beaming pretty intensely through the window, no tells of that early-morning breeze left to suffer through.

You were too busy trying to get your eyes to adjust to the light to notice Nico reach an unsteady hand out to the bedside table, fumbling with the phone lobbed on the wood. You blinked once, twice, before placing a delicate hand on his shoulder.

The involuntary shudder that immediately followed had both of you freezing. Right under your palm his skin seemed to transform, now littered with goosebumps. You frowned, slowly removing your hand.

He’d been as warm as you’d predicted, but his temperature was the last thing on your mind, especially when he almost instantaneously started to shiver, his phone long forgotten on the bedside table as he blearily rolled over onto his back, pushing away your hair that had fallen in a curtain around your face, blocking his eyesight.

You took that momentary pause where he couldn’t see you, eyes trailing greedily down his chest before looking up to meet his gaze. It was painfully clear he’d only just woken up: his eyes were still blinking quickly, trying to adjust to the light as well, and one side of his face was lined red from where his cheek had been smushed against the pillow.

There was something so adorably irresistible about Nico in the morning; he never quite ceased to amaze you, not with those big doe eyes blinking wearily up at you, and certainly not with the way he’d curled his arm to rest behind his head, bicep purposefully on show.

“What were you doing?” You croaked, eyeing the rather befuddled crease between his brows as his mouth formed an ‘o’, his attention darting to your pillow next to his head.

His face crumpled at your words, and you held back an amused snort of laughter at his clearly hungover state, instead moving to lay back down in your previous position, head perched on the corner of your own pillow.

“Sorry.” You whispered, unable to help a small smile at the way his nearest eye to you peeked open, immediately followed by a cheeky dimpled smile.

He hummed, shaking his head, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he fought to stay awake, “My fault.” He breathed, before snapping his eyes open, “I went to check you were still in bed and almost fell out instead. Why are we on the wrong side?”

You shrugged, yawning, “No clue.”

His face broke into a kind of smirk, and he rolled onto his shoulder, breath tickling your face, eliciting an amused scrunch of your nose, “We must have been pretty distracted, then.” He muttered, and you rolled your eyes fondly.

“Morning breath.” You mumbled, budging your cold foot against his shin. He didn’t recoil at your freezing touch, but rather helped trap your foot between his leg, sandwiched by heat on all sides.

“You don’t care about my morning breath.” He said knowingly, nudging his nose against yours and draping a bare arm across your shoulders to pull you impossibly closer.

He was boiling. The sudden change in temperature had you shivering, now enveloped completely in a bubble of warmth, your forehead pressed snugly against the crease of his shoulder. You found yourself humming, “No I don’t.”

There was a rumble in his chest, a soft, lazy laugh, as his hand dragged through your hair, gently untangling any knots and brushing it off your face to press a sweet kiss to your temple. Your heart had been beating pretty quickly from when he’d almost launched himself off the bed – from sheer shock – but now it was racing for a whole different reason.

It was still for a while, and you were vaguely aware of the pounding in his own chest and the constant shuffling, so when he wrapped both arms underneath you it didn’t come as a complete shock. There was a brief moment you were airborne, a new rush of cold air blowing through the sheets before the mattress was back on your side, and when you peeled your eyes open once more you were facing a now wide-awake Nico, whose cheeks were a significant tinge of pink, evidence of his previous warmth.

He’d spun you around so you were both back in your normal sides of the bed, but he’d also placed you on his hot spot.

“That’s better.” He grinned, running a hand through his hair.

He’d not had it trimmed in so long it was difficult to keep it all from falling into his face, and for the last few days of vacation it had been driving him crazy. A hair tie didn’t work, it was far too comical for him to even walk out of the door with a sad excuse of a ponytail, let alone enough to face his family. It was only yesterday that you’d managed to wear him down to wear one of your headbands, and he hadn’t once moved to take it off throughout the entire day.

Clearly he was missing it already.

You pushed yourself up onto one elbow and he tilted his head quizzically, “What do you wanna do for breakfast?”

His face brightened, mouth twisting in thought, “We could go to that cafe and pick up some pastries and eat them on the dock?”

As if by command, your stomach growled in agreement, and both yours and Nico’s faces crumpled with amusement, before Nico took initiative and threw back the covers, that single action both the best and worst thing in the world: on one hand you were smacked with the one thing you’d been trying to avoid, but on the other? There was nothing quite as mouth-wateringly picturesque as watching Nico kneel on the bed, back muscles rippling as he stretched.

Your lip caught in your teeth, and he turned around after a moment, not having heard you even attempt to move even despite the goosebumps trailing across your skin, and you blushed, smiling unabashedly as he raised an accusatory brow in your direction. He tried to hide the fact that he was smiling as well, his mouth fighting to keep a straight line, but the dimple in his cheek gave him away. The dimples always gave him away.

He looked right at you, trailing his eyes across your splayed figure still unmoving from your previous position, and you collapsed your arm, head hitting the pillow with a soft thump.

“Good morning.” He mumbled, voice suddenly quite gruff. You reached a hand out to poke him in his lower back, just above the elastic band of his shorts, and he spun quickly, arms instantly bracketing your head in. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you found you were hungry for a whole different reason. The house was empty – everyone else had made plans to hike for sunrise – and Nico was slowly lowering himself closer to your face, his hair tickling your forehead.

You reached a hand out automatically, fingers catching and pushing his hair away from his face, just right at the same moment he pressed an urgent kiss to your lips, lingering for a few seconds longer than he usually would have.

But…you had an empty house and no reason not to kiss him back as fiercely as you wanted. There were no consequences, after all.

“It is, yeah.” You whispered, pulling back slightly. Through the gaps in your hands a stubborn lock of hair flopped onto his forehead, and he looked at it, contemplating something for a moment.

You did the acting for him, quickly twisting your hands out of his hair and avoiding his arm bracketing you in for the sake of pulling a headband out of the bedside drawer and sliding it around his neck before pulling it back up, the thoughtful task made all the more difficult by the hot, open-mouthed kisses he was leaving across the column of your neck.

“Always is a good morning when it’s with you, y’know?” He breathed between kisses, and you couldn’t help a breathy laugh, mind not completely focused on his hair when he was melting you to the mattress.

“As much as I love what you’re doing, I literally can’t–Oh, thank you.” You grinned as his face reappeared, his cheeks flushed and lips bitten pink as he waited patiently for you to slide the headband into place, just the way you knew he liked it.

You patted the top of his head and he flopped onto the mattress next to you, one arm somehow already wound around your waist, pulling you closer as he continued his path, “I thought you were hungry?”

“The cafe’s not going anywhere any time soon.” You reasoned, pulling back enough to look him in the eyes – dazed and glossy, “You should wear headbands more often.”

“I know, right? They’re so useful.”

You frowned, “That’s now what I was going for.”

“I know.” He grinned.

#nico hischier x reader #nico hischier fic #nico hischier oneshot #nico hischier imagine #hockey player x reader #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey oneshot

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