#mob boss nico au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mikkomacko · 6 days

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Him and I - Soul Bound

Mob!Nico x reader

Warnings: some angst, but mostly cute. Mentions of death, of heartbreak.

Previous part

A/n: I apologize for how long this took me! I really really hope it was worth the wait haha. I’ll be editing and proofing later but wanted to get it out for y’all. Enjoy!

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Blinking softly, Nico breathes in the scent of your shampoo, the soft strands of your hair warm with each puff of air he exhales. Snowflakes scatter the streetlights coming in the bedroom window, the night clouds dumping snow on the ground. He thinks of you, contemplates waking you up so you can see it for just a moment. You love the snow, love how soft and quiet everything seems during the winter.

You’d love this storm. The flakes are big and fat, building up on the windowsill like something out of a movie.

Nico buries the tip of his nose further into your hair, restraining himself from rousing you. You need to sleep, need to get better so he can take you home. So that you’ll both get your normal lives back.

His thumb rubs circles over your hip, trying to soothe you while also lull himself back to sleep. He’s not sure what woke him. It could be the two wedding rings he has hidden in this bedroom, one that you’re very aware of. It could be the lingering bruises and cuts on your skin, marks that taunt Nico. Or it could be the fact that this entire trip has derailed his relationship with you.

He expected to leave here with a fiancée. Now he’ll be lucky if he leaves here with a girlfriend that still wants the pendant around her neck.

Swallowing heavily, Nico closes his eyes and pushes the thought out his head. You’ve picked him a million times over, he shouldn’t be scared that suddenly you wouldn’t do it again.

“Nico,” you murmur, voice just a whimper and it startles him. His body goes rigid, arms tightening around you and he cranes his neck to look down at the top of your head.

“I’m here darling, what’s wrong?”

Fingertips trail over your forehead, brushing out of place baby hairs away. You stir, heavy eyelids fighting to flutter open as his palm settles on the side of your neck, fingers lightly squeezing in encouragement. Fingers that can cause so much damage but touch you like you’re a precious pearl.

“I had a bad dream,” you finally whisper, shaken. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, guilt settling like a stone in his gut. Unable to look at you, he focuses back on the bedroom window.

“Got you,” he swears “I’ve got you baby, you’re ok.”

Your back shifts under his hands, ribs expanding as you inhale deeply and blow out a rattled breath. Then you do it again, the puff of air hot on his bare chest. Finally, you settle.

Not for long though. Shuffling, you push yourself up until you’re straddling his waist, weight heavy on his stomach and thighs but welcome. Knuckling at your sleepy eyes, you blink sluggishly at him.

“Why are you up handsome?”

He shrugs, smiling softly at the sweet name. Your fingers reach out for him, gentle and tickling as you push a strand of hair off his forehead.

“Was watching the snow fall and thinking about you.” Nico admits, voice just a whisper. Like a bolt of electricity has gone through you, you perk up, eyes brightening.

“Snowing?”

Pursing his lips to keep from laughing, Nico nods against the pillow. You duck your head down, rolling your lips inwards and trying to hide that beautiful smile from him. His heart swells with love, thumping painfully in his chest. Hands running up and down either side of your waist, he finally gives.

“Come on, let’s go outside.”

~~~~

It’s like a dream. The buttery glow of the street lights on the fresh snow, reflecting off your smiling cheeks that have turned pink in the cold.

The fabric of your snow pants swish as you waddle away from him, snow crunching loudly under both of your boots.

Clouds of fog dance in front of Nico’s eyes, thickening as he huffs and puffs after you. Stumbling after you, Nico lazily tosses the snowball in his gloved hands. It smacks you square in the back, and you squeal dramatically.

Nico stops as you whirl around, scooping up your own snowball and he hides behind his arms as you throw it into his chest. Flakes of snow drift up to his chin and cheeks, biting cold but he laughs anyway.

“Right in the heart baby?” He gasps, clutching at his pec. “Ouch.”

You pout, locking your hands together under your chin. “Oh no poor baby Nico.” You tease, a wicked grin morphing on your lips as you quickly scoop up more snow and run at him.

Tossing the half formed snowball into his stomach, you laugh evilly and try to duck around him. Luckily Nico has quick reflexes and manages to wrap his arms around you, lifting you up and swinging you in a circle.

Clutching at his hands and arms, you squeal and giggle, snow boots and legs drifting through the air. Nico keeps swaying you back and forth until his biceps burn from holding you and his stomach and cheeks ache from laughing.

“Cold?”He asks after your feet are back on the ground, the ice cold tip of his nose nudging your cheek.

“Yeah,” you pant out, still trying to catch your breath. The two of you haven’t gone far from the house. You’re still close enough that if any of the boys are light sleepers they definitely heard you laughing and play fighting. Not that Nico cares.

This is his house and he can do as he pleases on the property. Hell if he wanted to walk around buck naked he’s more than welcome to do so.

However, it is getting late (or early, he supposes) so he nudges you back towards the house with two hands on your waist. You move in silence alongside him, kicking snow off your boots on the porch before huddling into the entryway. Like a well oiled machine you seamlessly strip out of your snow clothes and layers, leaving them abandoned in heaps in front of the door to be dealt with in the morning.

Nico’s gotten down to his socks, a pair of boxers, and his shirt when you suddenly crowd into his chest, hands holding his face tenderly as you guide him down into a kiss. Like its second nature he holds you, arms snaking around your torso and lifting you to your toes so he can kiss you back.

It’s then that he realizes you’ve taken off almost everything, the only piece of clothing left on your body the soft pair of cotton underwear that brushes against his pinky finger.

Your skin is warm and soft, soothing against his thawing fingertips as he runs a hand up your spine, fingers gripping your hair.

Head fuzzy, Nico groans when you push your chest tight against his, sweetly nudging at his bottom lip with your tongue.

“Baby,” he murmurs gently, every part of him aching to just lay you down on the stupidly soft fur rug just across the way and have his way with you. But he can’t bring himself too, even if his dick is starting to thicken up in interest.

You must be able to tell by his tone, eyes fluttering open and swollen lips brushing against his. Gaze switching between his eyes, you stroke at the scruffy hairs of his beard.

“Are you ever going to stop looking at me like I’m hurt?”

It’s not accusatory. Or angry. Or even disappointed. Your tone is curious, like you’re simply asking him if he still likes coffee ice cream.

“You’re all healed up, I know.” He assures quietly, but earnestly. “And as badly as I want to make you feel good on me, I can’t until I’m certain that you’re all healed up inside too.”

Something warm and tender settles in your features, lifting the corners of your lips in a bittersweet smile.

“I know,” you whisper, slowly stepping back from him. He’s sure you’ve lost your top somewhere in the mess clothes beneath your feet, so he tugs off his own t-shirt, straightening out the sleeve. You duck your head down when he holds it open to you, helping you pull it down over your shoulders and torso.

Nico holds you again, desperate to feel you against him. His favorite thing in the world is getting to hold you close to him.

You lay your head on his shoulder, left arm squished between your two bodies and right hand innocently fiddling with the waistband of his boxers.

Bashfully, you say, “I don’t know how to be, though. I’m so mad at Timo, and I’ve never been mad at him before. And then I feel bad because I’m not mad you but I should be if I’m mad at him. But I don’t even know why I’m mad.”

Nico hums, swallowing thickly. You maybe should be mad at him. He knows he didn’t handle the situation well, knows he let his fear get ahold of him and he shut you down to protect you. Instead of using this as a chance to make you stronger and smarter, he put you in metaphorical bubble wrap.

“Yes you do,” he finally responds. “You just won’t say it because you don’t think it justifies how upset you are. But it does baby, and you have every right to feel that way.”

You sniffle. “Ok.”

He shakes his head fondly, amused by your lack of response and knowing that it simply means you’re really listening to him.

“But Timo has his own justifications for what he did and until you hear his side of it, you’ll both just be angry at each other.”

Your hand runs up his stomach, fingers cold on his skin and you teasingly pinch at the fat on his lower belly. “When did you get so smart?”

Looking up at him with twinkling eyes and an amused grin, Nico presses a soft kiss between your eyes.

“When I met you.”

~~~~

Nico’s arm is heavy on your shoulders as the two of you descend the stairs. It’s obvious that last nights snowy adventure has left you two exhausted if the dragging feet and yawns are anything to go by.

Chatter, the noisy clattering of pans and silverware travel from the kitchen. Sharing a curious look with Nico, you stop in the entryway and blink twice to make sure you’re not still sleeping.

Mercer is standing over the stove, a pan of bacon popping and sizzling in front of him. Luke is looming over the toaster, a loaf of bread in hand and a pile of toast stacked on a plate. At the bar top, Timo is elegantly slicing through tomatoes, carefully watching Alex in front of him who is doing his best to replicate Timo’s technique. And Jack sits with them, nimble fingers tearing apart a head of lettuce and laying the leafs out on a platter.

Mouth parted in shock, Mercer turns around, a spatula with greasy bacon in hand. He freezes when he spots you two, eyes wide and caught. You realize he’s wearing a white apron that reads “I ♥️ fondue” and wonder if it’s Timo’s or Nico’s.

“Morning sleepyheads.” He greets, bacon dripping grease onto the floor. Beside you, Nico sighs and drags a hand across his face.

“Mess, Merc.” He grumbles, more tired than annoyed or angry.

Mercer makes a noise of surprise, rushing to the island counter and laying the strips of bacon out on a platter. Nico removes his arm from you, grabbing the dish towel off the oven rack and moving to clean up the mess.

“Thanks boss,” Mercer grins, going back to his post at the stove. Nico grunts in acknowledgment, haphazardly throwing the rag into the sink as he heads towards the corner where the coffee pot is nestled.

One track minded for his morning caffeine, Nico putters around silently, dipping in and out of cabinets.

Rubbing your eyes, you look at the other boys. Jack is still going about his business of arranging lettuce pieces but he’s got a shit eating grin on his face, watching Nico intently. You already know he’s waiting for his boss to perk up so he can make some crude remarks or guesses at why the both of you slept in today.

Avoidant, Timo is locked in on the task of slicing tomatoes but you can tell he’s distracted. He’s slowed down, hands moving like molasses as if he’s putting more effort into not looking around than he is cutting vegetables.

Alex however, is watching you. He’s still holding his knife and half cut tomato in his hands, but they sit limp on the counter top. He angles himself towards you, gaze hesitant.

“I tried to make your matcha for you. It’s in the fridge. Not sure how good it is though.”

As usual, he just warms your heart. They couldn’t even make a cup of coffee for Nico, they’re boss, and yet Alex took the time to make you matcha before he started on breakfast BLTs with the rest of them.

“Thanks,” you smile, “M’sure it’s fine. If Nico can make it, anyone can.”

Now leaning against the counter next to Luke, Nico glares at you over the rim of his coffee mug. Even so he looks cute, all puffy eyes and messy hair, thick eyebrows pinched together.

You clear your throat, smiling drooping as you soak in how awkward it feels to be around all of them. How Luke still hasn’t said a word and that’s weird of him. Neither has Jack, and that’s so out of character it’s detrimentally concerning.

And poor Alex who looks like he’s just swallowed a buzzing alarm clock, who has never been holy at handling conflict between those he loves. Guilty, you’re moving before you can even think about it.

Timo must see you coming though because he drops everything in his hands, turning just right that you fit perfectly into the seam of his shoulder when you throw your arms around him.

He’s bigger than Nico, just a hair taller and a bit thicker, but the two of you are like pieces of the same puzzle. Different than you and Nico, but just as perfect.

The hug doesn’t say everything you need it to, but it says enough. You can tell by the way he sighs in relief, breath hot on the top of your head and he melts into you. Your fingers cling to his back, holding him tightly and desperately and it feels like the more you cling to him the tighter he squeezes you around the shoulders.

Closing your watering eyes, you puff out a weighted breath. “Please tell me you helped him make that matcha?” You whisper, just loud for Timo to hear. You can feel his laugh on your skin.

“Of course I did.”

~~~~

Picking at the sleeve of your cable knit sweater, you look from Nico to Timo, lips pursed. Your sat on the freshly made bed, legs crossed over each other in front of you and that teddy bear from Nico’s childhood bedroom resting by your feet.

Timo clears his throat uncomfortably, sat in the large windowsill across from the bed. The sky behind him is bright and blue, showing off after a night of dumping snow in the town. It hurts your eyes a bit to look at it, stabs at the tender spot behind your right eye.

Nico is slowly pacing by the side of the bed. Not anxiously or uneasy, but in a way that makes you feel both of those. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, the string of his hoodie bitten between his teeth.

Every once in awhile he looks up from his feet, looks at Timo like he can’t really decide what to do with him. Then he looks at you, and his eyes go all gentle and soft, and his lips lift just the slightest bit. Then he looks back at his feet and paces.

“Um Schoa?”

He stops, looks up at you expectantly. “Hi, wanna sit for a second?” You ask politely, patting the bed next to you. His brow furrows.

“Why?”

Laughing, you say, “So that I can hold your hand when I tell you that we don’t need a mediator.”

Across the room Timo chuckles. Nico’s head snaps over to glare at him and Timo hides his smile behind his hand, pretending to scratch above his lip.

Climbing to your knees, you shuffle to the end of the bed until you can reach Nico, taking his hands in yours. Your touch pulls his attention from Timo, gaze going tender as it falls on you. You almost melt at the way his head tilts ever so slightly and his thumbs rub at the back of your hands.

“I know that I just…”

“Just what?” You encourage.

His next breath comes out slow and calculated, eyebrows pinching ever so slightly as he thinks. “I’m trying to decide if I should make you two wait to do this and take you with me to Luca’s.”

The investigation (and subsequent interrogation) that had taken place after Lena and Marcello abducted you was officially completed a few days ago. Luca has been waiting for you to heal before he wanted to go over the run down and findings with Nico.

You know why Nico is so torn up about making you and Timo go. He’s trying to open the work side of the family to you, just as you’d asked him to do. He wants you to feel included, to know that he’s not trying to hide this.

But at the same time, you’re relationship with Timo is more important to you than knowing why and what happened that day in his grandfathers old house.

Besides, it makes your skin crawl thinking about having to watch security footage, hear stories and records taken during interrogation with Luca and the rest of the boys around. Probably Nina too, and whatever men they have tailing them.

Embarrassing, you decide. It would so embarrassing to look them in the eye after they’ve seen you at your weakest.

“I want to hear it from you,” you say, fingers tightening around his palms. “Just you, please.”

He reads you so well. Can tell immediately why you don’t want to go, that you only trust him enough to relive that day with him. No one else.

“Ok,” Nico agrees easily, right hand letting go of yours to cradle the back of your head. He ducks down and presses a comforting peck to your forehead. “I promise I’ll tell you everything we find, show you whatever you want after ok?”

He straightens out, smoothes his hand over the top of your head and looks to Timo.

“You’ll be updated too,” Nico tells him. “As long as you keep her safe and happy today, deal?”

Your best friend scoffs. “That’s literally my job description. Along with being hot.”

His words make you giggle, the sound so unexpected you press into Nico’s stomach to stifle the sound into his hoodie. You know better than to laugh when Nico is talking business, but sometimes those boys get the best of you.

And as much as Nico pretends it annoys him, you know he likes to see how happy the family makes you. You can tell by the way he softly tugs at the roots of your hair, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you look up at him. He’s fighting back an amused grin when you do.

“Come on Schao,” you mumble. “Get outta here, it’s Timo time.”

~~~~

Snow crunching under your boots, you sip at your latte, wincing when the foam burns the tip of your tongue, but too impatient to wait for it to cool.

To the left of you, Timo has popped the lid off of his drink, swirls of steam billowing up into the frigid air and he’s cautiously blowing to cool the liquid down.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, the two of you strolling lackadaisically through the streets of town. After a moment he takes a deep breath, gloved hand shoving the lid back on his latte. He takes a sip.

“I’m sorry that I left you in the hospital that day,” he finally says, voice quiet like he’s unsure of what to even say. “I should’ve told Nico that you could handle it.”

“Do you really believe that?” You ask, “or are you just saying that now?”

He frowns, lips pursuing. He looks like he’s fighting himself on what to say and you’re unsure if that’s a bad thing or not.

“When Nico came me to that day and told me he lost you, it was like the ground fell out beneath me,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know how Nico kept his cool, but I mean he’s always been good at knowing what to do and when to do it.

“So when he said it wasn’t the best idea to let you at Lena and stuff, I trusted him-“

“You should’ve trusted me.” You cut in, the reminder of him picking Nico over you making your temper flare.

“I know I know,” Timo concedes, holding a hand out to stop you at the streets crosswalk. He checks both ways before nodding you along. “But I was scared and I just-I couldn’t-I didn’t trust myself.”

The sidewalk under your feet feels slick, and you reach out to link your arm through Timo’s. He’s sturdy, locking your arm under his bicep and slipping his hand into his pocket.

“What do you mean?”

Timo sighs heavily, breath shaking with the weight of it. “It was my job to train you, to prepare you to be Nico’s prinzessin and I failed. Somewhere along the way, something you were supposed to know didn’t click and I didn’t make sure that it did. And then all of this happened.

“I did this to you and Nico!”

He’s stopped walking now, angled himself towards you. His eyes are wet and red when they meet yours, the sadness in them colder than the winter temperatures.

“I had to side with him. It was the only thing that felt right after I screwed up so badly. You know Nico, he can fix literally anything.”

You wrench your arm out of his hold, rising to your toes and throwing it around his neck into a bruising hug.

Timo tucks his face into your shoulder, shoulders hunching down to meet your height. Blinking away the tears in your own eyes, you look up at the bright blue sky and focus on the puffy clouds drifting by.

“I had a panic attack,” you murmur weakly. “At the party. Nico and I were fighting, it felt like he was so far away and I just freaked. It was like I was on autopilot, I just went outside to catch my breath.”

You swallow thickly, choking back tears. “As soon as the world around me came back I realized what I did and tried to go back but-“

“Don’t say it,” he cuts off, voice strained and broken. “Don’t tell me how they hurt you.”

“I should’ve been ready,” you continue instead. “Everything they did I went over with you a million times. At least everything I can remember them doing. B-but it was like my head was exploding. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t see.

“My head hurt so badly. I could feel the instructions and lessons right there but nothing was clicking. All I could think about was Nico, how much I wanted him there.”

The air is colder on your cheeks now, and you realize it’s the wet trails of tears that burn. You tuck into Timo shoulders, wet eyelashes fluttering shut to hide from the world.

“I failed Timo. You and Nico prepared me, I just couldn’t do it.”

The arm around your middle squeezes, so tightly it takes your breath away. “That’s not true,” he utters, earnestly. “You didn’t fail. You showed all of us up, you got Luca to side with you. You got the boys out here.

“You showed me and Nico that you know how to lead, all on your own.”

His assurance is like warm water trickling on your head, trailing down into your bones. It’s soothing, calming to hear. Especially from him, from your best friend in the entire world. And he’s a people pleaser, he’ll tell anyone anything they want to hear. This, however, is sincere.

You can tell by the way he looks down at you after you’ve released him from your hug, baby blue eyes certain and steady.

He holds his arm out to you. “M’sorry I didn’t listen to you before.”

“I’m sorry I shut down on you,” you apologize, taking his arm like before. He nods down the street.

“Come on. I want to show you something.”

~~~~

The room is so silent, Nico thinks he could hear snowflakes hitting the roof of the building if he really listened. If it weren’t for the sound of Holtzy breathing so shakily, angrily.

Nico knows the feeling.

The large display screen in Luca’s conference room has gone dark, reflecting a distorted image of them gathered around the table. Nico doesn’t really see that picture. No, he still sees Marcello tying to the chair, how harshly your limo body was thrown down and manipulated with rope. He can still see the way your head lulled, even after you woke up. The way you tried to move and he’s not sure if the bindings stopped you or the fact that you looked like you couldn’t even identify your own limbs.

He can still see the blood that smattered the floor when Lena hit you. Can see and hear the way you cried when Marcello touched you.

Nico never got the footage of the warehouse in Philly when you taken the first time. He had no way of accessing it, especially after he lit the place on fire. He’s thankful for that now.

If he can’t stand to see this, he would’ve died seeing that.

“All of that because she wanted Nico?”

It’s Luke who speaks up first, lips curled in disdain as he looks away from the screen to Luca. The older Hischier sibling looks guilty as he nods, bringing a fist to his mouth as he clears his throat.

“She wanted the business. And the only way to get that for her was through Nico.”

The phones they’d taken and unlocked from Marcello and Lena lay on the oak table in front of him, message threads pulled up. Nico doesn’t need to read them again. Doesn’t need to see another video, hear anymore audio. The story is clear cut.

Lena convinced Marcello that you were using Nico, that you wanted to infiltrate the family from the inside where’d you’d be able to take over both Luca and Nina’s territory.

Marcello believed her, spurred by the fact that they never saw you in a Devs pendant or with a ring. Because in the states, those marks are subtle and hidden. Yours is always tucked under your shirt.

Unlike in Switzerland, where a pendant is always flaunted, every outfit centered around the piece of gold.

And then they devised a plan. One carefully laid out in a text thread between the two the same night Nico took you to Luca’s bar. The same night that you had a run with Lena, apparently. Her friends said something to Luca about it, his camera picked up the moment in front of the bathroom, and Nina confirmed it.

Nico had no idea about it. Hadn’t even known his ex-whatever was even back in town. He can’t believe he didn’t notice. He’s usually so attentive, so analytic of his whereabouts. He’d let his guard down that night too. Because he was so happy to see his siblings, to see you fit right into that booth in the bar with his sister and at the pool table with Luca.

He remembers holding you that night in the bar. Loving and kissing on you in a way he doesn’t normally do in public. How he swayed you to his favorite song and held your waist when helping you line up the queue ball. The way he whispered stupid little things into your ear just to get you to giggle and curl into him, give him a reason to press sweet kisses to your neck and cheeks.

Lena most of noticed. Must of seen how fucking in love he is with you. He never took her to his family’s places, never played her any songs he liked, never tried to make her laugh.

It makes him nauseous to think that someone took that love and used it to hurt you. That she saw him with you and decided that was reason enough to put you in the hospital, to articulate a plan that would take you out of his life forever.

Because that was the intention.

It’s written out in front of him. Kidnap you, use you as bait to get a private meeting with Nico. And when he’d get there by himself, Marcello would have the barrel of his pistol to your temple and Nico would barely get to say your name before he’d pull the trigger.

And Lena would throw herself at him, threaten to turn him in for treason if he didn’t agree to get back with her. She’d tell his whole family how you were using them, say Nico was in on it, and that would be it.

“She should’ve killed her,” Holtzy mutters, and Nico can’t say he disagrees with him. There was a reason he was saving Marcello and Lena after their interrogation. He wanted to have the whole story before he decided what to do.

You took matters into your own hands though, and Nico now thinks that was merciful of you. Because he’d hurt them in ways they could never imagine if he had the chance to now.

All of this because Marcello couldn’t think to check around your fucking neck for a ring or pendant before he strangled you with Nico’s scarf.

“Alex,” Nina breathes in disappointment, lips parted like she wants to scold him or defend you letting Lena live.

“She should’ve,” Nico agrees, so angry it burns his skin, claws at his throat. “She should’ve fucking killed all of us. When we left her at that hospital, when we lied to her.”

He looks over at his boys, at Holtzy who’s always been so fiercely defensive and protective of you it rivals Nico. At Luke and Jack who tease the two of you, who tell you that you can do better and love to drive the two of you crazy but still flew out here last minute because they believe in you. And Mercer who’s always so immature and playful, goofing off and acting like he’s still the 17 year old kid Nico brought into Jersey.

Mercer who worked with you and Luca to execute your plan of revenge. He stepped up lead, got them all together on that flight, was your second in command. The boys took orders from him that day, same as you.

He’s proud of them. Nico is so fucking proud of this group of kids that you turned into men.

“But she did what she thought was best, not what she wanted,” he tells Holtzy. “And we have to trust and accept that.”

The room goes quiet again. Luca takes his seat at the head of the table, running his hands through his hair. Nico locks the stolen phones, stacking them on top of each other and putting them in his hoodie pocket. In case you want to see them.

“I’m retraining,” Luca sighs. “All of my men. In phases every section is going through boot camp again. So that this never happens again Neeky.”

Nico nods, flashing a quick but grateful smile at his brother. He doesn’t blame Luca for this. He knows how Lena is -was- how conniving and controlling. She was so good at always playing the victim.

“We want to have a party kind of thing for you all before you head back to Jersey,” Luca nods towards the younger boys. “End on a happier note. I’ll shut down the bar for a night, have security still but it’ll be safer. Better.”

Nico takes a deep breath, tries to shake off how exhausting this meeting was. “We’ll be there.”

Nina is tapping her fingers on the table top, gaze burning into the side of Nico’s head. He looks over at her, raises an expectant eyebrow.

“When are you gonna do it?”

It. Propose. Nico winces.

“Do what?”

“What are you doing boss?”

Nico thinks the Hughes brothers could be twins with how in sync they always are, how they seem to have the same thoughts. He could kill Nina for bringing this up in front of them.

“Not here,” Nico mutters, looking away when Nina groans in frustration.

“You fought to get her back just to bail! Come on Nico, I saw you that day! You can’t let this scare you off.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching as he tries to keep his tone in check. He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to be reminded that the whole purpose of this trip got hijacked and now he’s returning to the states with not just one, but two engagement rings. Neither of which are on your finger.

“M’not gonna do this to her here, Nina.”

“Why not?” She presses. “What could be better? She loves it here, you heard her.”

His temper flares, exploding out of him like boiling oil. “No I heard her screaming and crying as she was tortured!

“I watched her fight for her life in a place she was supposed to be happy. So no I’m not pulling out a ring, and looking her in the eye and explaining that the picture perfect proposal she asked for was lost because I left her alone for five minutes, but please marry me anyway. Sorry I’m asking in my brother’s sticky bar.”

Nico’s chest heaves, angry puffs of air rattling out of him as he sinks back into his chair. He rakes a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands painfully for some kind of release.

He can feel the eyes of all them, watching him like he might start yelling again.

“Boss,” Mercer mumbles cautiously, “she’d still marry you, you know that.”

Nico sighs, nods. “Yeah I know. She told me she still wants to. I just-I have to do it right. And it’s not right anymore.”

“Neeky, you could pull out a ring pop in the bathroom of the bar and that girl would still say yes to you.”

Nina is right. He knows she’s right. You told him that as long as he had the ring and was on his knee, you’d say yes.

But that’s not the point. The point is that he wanted it to be a big deal. Something he planned out, put thought into every detail. He wanted you to see the intention. That way you know he’s doing this because he wants to. Because he wants you.

“I know,” he mutters, the sound of you calling yourself a Hischier on that tape echoing in his head. The last name isn’t officially yours yet, but it’s yours in every sense of the word. “It’s not about her saying yes, I know she’ll say yes. It’s about me…”

Showing her.

He has to show you. Because he’s not great at saying things. He’s better with actions.

“It’s fine,” Nico dismisses, “I’ll figure something out.”

~~~~

Kids laughing and chattering fills the air, echoing around the large skating rink. Timo had bypassed the skate rentals desk when you came in, instead guiding you straight towards the upper stands.

You don’t know why he’s bringing you here, or why he’s staying so far from the actual ice, but you follow him anyway.

The sound of skates scraping the ice flitters up into the rafters, and you glance over to find a group of excited kids skating messily around the rink.

Timo sits dead center in the row, holding down your seat for him and you gladly take it, propping up your half-drank latte on your thigh. You look down, watch the kids skate and notice a woman among them. Beautiful red hair in a thick and loose braid, a black and white skating costume on, the sleeves and pants glittering with gems under the bright lights.

“Nico and I learned to skate here,” Timo says, crossing his foot over his knee and relaxing back into his seat like muscle memory. You wonder how many times he’s come here, probably sat in this exact same seat for some reason.

“It’s a nice rink,” you say, looking over. He’s looking at the ice so intently you think his gaze might magically melt it, create little pools of slush. No, he’s not looking at the ice, you realize, he’s looking at her. At the beautiful red head that’s now gathering the children in a circle for stretches.

“When we were about 13, this girl moved here. Went to our school and everything. She got on well with Nico. We would come here after school everyday, when we were putting off assignments especially. Luca would buy us tickets for the train and we’d come with him because he skated better.

“One day she was here too. And it was like nothing, the way she’d just join us. Never hockey, but she’d skate with us. And she was so beautiful, that way she moved, the way she opened up when she got on the ice…”

His voice has gone soft, distant like he’s lost in this vivid memory of this old friend. You take in the lovesick look on his face, so clear even from just his side profile, and it clicks. He brought you here because that girl on the ice right now is the girl he’s telling you about.

The girl he’d left here. The one Nico briefly mentioned to you once, a few years back when you asked him why Timo, with his beautiful blue eyes and his sweet smile, never went out on dates.

“Timo’s heart is back in Switzerland,” Nico had explained. “His girl is still there, I think.”

You reach over, lay your hand over his in his lap and he blinks, his fingers relaxing under your hold. “Her parents didn’t like us. They knew about Nico and his family, about how I was training with him too. Nico’s grandfather wasn’t the nicest person, hell Rino and Katja are like saints compared to his grandfather.

“So they told her to stay away from us. But she didn’t. Everyday she got on the train with us, sat right next to me and would pull out this cucumber snacks her mother made. She always had them for me. And I started bringing her stuff too. Chocolate and sweets from around my house. She has a sweet tooth but her mother never let her have it. Said it would make her unhealthy.”

Timo laughed quietly to himself, like he still can’t believe her parents were like that. Or maybe at his own rebelliousness, how he went directly against them to make her happy.

“That’s really sweet Timo,” you murmur, smiling to yourself. You’ve known he was a big softie, could’ve guessed that he’d be even worse when in love.

“Yeah, it was. We dated for a long time after that. Snuck around behind her parents back, even though we know they knew. But it was fun. And I was like a puppy in love…”

Something sad settles over his features, glosses over his eyes and he sighs softly.

You fill in the next part for him. “And then you left to Jersey with Nico.”

Timo puffs out his cheeks, nods just once. “I asked her to come with. Told her I’d marry her as soon as we got there. And she agreed, was ready to give up everything, even her figure skating career to come with me.

“But she wasn’t 18 yet and her parents could use that to stop her visa. They told her she couldn’t go with, they forbid it. And they threatened to disown her too.”

You laugh humorlessly, familiar with the abandonment of family. It makes you sad to think of her not even getting the chance to pick. Yeah it broke you to have to make a decision between Nico and your loved ones, but at least you had the agency to make that pick. Her parents never gave her that.

“Every time I’m here I come see her. Beg her to come with me. She’s not close to her parents anymore, but she never got over that teenage fear. And she has a career and a life here now. One without me.

“How am I supposed to ask her to give that up?”

He’s looking at you now, eyes glossy and begging, and it breaks your heart. You had no idea how tormented by love Timo has been all these years. That every year when he makes his annual trip home he tears open old wounds just to see his teenage sweetheart that he never got over.

Answers. He wants answers from you because you had been her before.

You swallow thickly, frowning sympathetically at him. “Tell her that,” you advise. “Tell her how much it hurts you to ask her to give that life up. And if she really loves you, it won’t matter.

“It’s not exactly a sacrifice if what you’re getting in return is far better in the end.”

“Is that how it was?” He asks. “For you and Nico?”

It’s not even a question you have to think about, nodding as your lips curl into a loving smile. “Yeah it was. Nico told me he’d never want to make me choose, but my family wanted me to. And no one who really loves you would make you choose.”

Timo sniffles, blinking back his tears and turning back to the rink. “I don’t want her to pick, I just want her to be happy. And I know she loves me still. Every time I’m home we fall back into who we were when I left. Like no time has ever passed.”

You can’t help but ache for him. So you lean your head against his shoulder, hold his hand to let him know you’re here for him, always.

“You know, for being my best friend, you kept this from me for a long time.”

Timo chuckles, squeezing your fingers in acknowledgment. “I wanted her to myself for a bit longer. And I knew if I told you you’d come flying over here in that jet to get her to come to Jersey.”

On the ice, the beautiful red head looks up from her lesson, immediately finding Timo in the stands. You were right, this must be his spot in the rink, some seat of significance.

Timo lifts his free hand, waving at her and she effortlessly skates a little flourish, wiggling her fingers back at him with a smile so wide you can see it from all the way up here.

You and Nico have your love story, you decide, and now it’s time for Timo to have his too. Whether it’s convincing him to stay here with her or convincing her to come home with him, you’ll do whatever it takes.

#nico hischier #new jersey devils #mob boss nico hischier #nhl #him and i #him and i chats #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier au

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theemporium · 2 months

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[22k] in attempt to bridge the decades old rivalry between the two gangs, a marriage of alliance is proposed between the new jersey devils and the new york rangers. the last thing you expected was to find yourself offered on a silver platter to your enemies. and you certainly didn't expect your future husband to be the likes of the devils leader himself, nico hischier.

new jersey mob masterlist || nhl mob masterlist

warning: this is a mob au. topics and themes such as violence, blood, murder and gun use are prevalent and constant throughout the fic. please keep that in mind if you choose to proceed with this fic and the whole series.

read part two here

“You know I would never question your authority—”

“It sounds like you’re about to question it.”

“Are you really sure this is a good idea?”

The footsteps echoing through the long corridor came to an abrupt stop as Nico stopped walking. The second set stopped shortly after, and he turned to find his second-in-command already looking at him with a mixed expression. It made him sigh, pushing back the meeting they were currently walking to to the back of his mind as he turned to his closest friend and confidante.

The same man he had chosen to stand beside him in this lifestyle of theirs without a moment of hesitation because he knew no one would have his back the way Jesper Bratt did.

“Would there even be a point if I said no? It’s not like we can back out now,” Nico pointed out, and he watched Jesper’s shoulders slump a little like he was expecting that answer.

Jesper gritted his teeth. “I just don’t understand why you are doing this.”

“It’s for an alliance, Jesper, we’ve been over this,” Nico said, and despite himself, his eyes softened a little when he noted the hint of concern in his second-in-command‘s face. “We have too many enemies for our own good. We need to have people we can trust.”

His eyes narrowed. “And you think you can trust them?”

“Just as much as they can trust us,” Nico replied, though the response sounded way too rehearsed and planned, even to his own ears. “We need this as much as they do.”

“We have plenty of enemies you could have negotiated an alliance with,” Jesper pointed out. “We could have strengthened the bond with Philadelphia. Or even the Sabres. Hell, Nico, you could have even tried to fix things with the Panthers down south. Why in loving fuck would you pick the Rangers?”

Nico remained silent.

“Because you want something from them,” Jesper murmured, realisation clicking into place as he carefully noted Nico’s expression. “Or someone.”

“I am doing it for the sake of the gang,” Nico answered simply.

A slow smile spread across Jesper’s face. “Us, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“You know, as your second-in-command, surely I deserve to know what your game plan is.”

“My game plan is to get to this meeting and sign the papers to start a new era of alliance with the New York Rangers,” Nico stated, his voice simple and blunt, but Jesper knew better. “That is all.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else.”

“Hm, sure.”

Nico shot the boy a look over his shoulder, but Jesper just grinned in response.

“I should’ve brought Palat with me instead,” he grumbled under his breath, lips twitching upwards when he heard Jesper let out a noise of disagreement. “C’mon, don’t wanna be late.”

“Please, we are already thirty minutes early.”

“Walk faster.”

…

“Stop making that face.”

Silence.

“You look prettier when you smile.”

Silence.

“Rogue, baby, come on. Don’t be like that—”

Your hand snapped out, your fingers wrapped around his wrist and halting his actions before he could even reach out to touch you. You turned your head to look at him for the first time since you left the house back in New York, your glare icy and cold.

“Don’t try to fucking touch me again.”

Jacob Trouba stared back at you, his face remaining impressively blank but you noted the small twitch in his jaw. It wasn’t often someone talked back to the boss of the New York Rangers and didn’t face some consequence, but you guessed you were getting a pass due to current circumstances.

“Play nice,” he said eventually as he leaned back against his chair. You sat in the seat next to him to his right, with two men settled behind. Jacob had said they didn’t need any more men in the room, but you knew well enough that he would have some of his men crawling within a block radius of the building. “And try not to be too difficult.”

“You picked the wrong woman then,” you retorted, your whole body feeling stiff and on edge as you glanced over at the clock above the door. Two more minutes before the meeting was set to begin. “There’s still time to change. There’s always—”

“Not happening.”

You gritted your teeth together.

“Smile.”

“Don’t fucking test me right now.”

You heard one of the boys choking on a laugh, quickly trying to cover it up with a laugh. You didn’t need to turn your head to know that Jacob was probably glaring at them.

You couldn’t even find it within yourself to smile at the interaction.

When Jacob had called you into his office two weeks ago, you honestly thought he was joking. He had told you about the offer the Devils had offered, a few other members of his inner circle in the room as the lot of you discussed it. Most of you mocked it, talked about how it was a fucking joke that such a deep, historical rivalry was meant to be fixed with one marriage. Jacob himself had made a few teasing comments during the whole thing.

Then, a week later he told you he was actually contemplating it.

And then, just this morning, he gave you next to no warning that it would be you heading across the river to marry one of the Devils boys.

Your reaction was as one expected when they were told they were practically being sold off for the sake of an alliance—you were fucking pissed. You laughed it off but when he didn’t join, you felt an unexplainable rage bubble inside you.

You knew how this world worked. You knew the reality and the politics of mob life. You knew nothing but mob life. And you knew very well the way women were seen in the eyes of the mob, the way they were seen as objects more so than humans. You had seen friends close to you be shipped across the country for the sake of alliance arranged marriages.

But never once did you think it would be you.

Never once did you think Jacob would pull this shit on you.

And for an alliance with the Devils, of all fucking people.

You weren’t the kind of girl that mob men liked. You weren’t quiet or compliant or a pushover. You weren’t the kind of girl they liked to have on their arm to show off. You weren’t the kind of girl to be a mob wife, full stop.

Jacob knew this. He knew it better than anyone. It was the main fucking reason you were close to him, that you had his respect, that you were one of the few people in his inner circle that he trusted beyond belief.

And he had thrown it back in your face.

You hadn’t spoken to him after your initial outburst. Once your throat was raw and your hands were shaking with rage, you had turned on your heel and walked out the room. He had tried to speak to you, quite a few of the boys did. But you remained silent for the whole ride over, for the hours that passed, for the whole day until a few minutes ago.

“You are being fucking ridiculous right now.”

A muscle in your jaw twitched, an overbearing urge to turn in your seat and spit out every thought you had bubbling in your mind since this morning, but your attention was quickly diverted by the sound of the door opening.

You had encountered many of the Devils before, though not many of their faces were familiar and recognisable. It was good to know one’s enemy, to know the strongest and weakest points of their group. You had studied them far more than you cared to admit, probably more so than needed over the years.

However, years of meetings and unfortunate accounts meant you recognised the faces that walked through the door, but the last person still took you by surprise. You knew he would be here, you expected as much.

But never once had you met Nico Hischier in the flesh.

His reputation preceded him. You had heard a lot about the man, most of it surrounding the young age he stepped into power for the Devils. You knew what the other organisations thought about him, the whispers and rumours that travelled outside of New York where the hatred and rivalry wasn’t so prominent.

He was seen to be…fair.

You didn’t think it was necessarily possible to be considered fair in the life you all were in.

“Hischier.”

You watched the man stop at the other side of the table, making a point of dragging the chair out and settling down comfortably. He waited a few moments as his men stood behind him in formation, and only after they were comfortable, did he speak.

“Trouba.”

You could only imagine how much he was seething. A small part of you enjoyed it, even if you didn’t turn to watch his expression closely.

“I assume you still agree to the terms of our deal.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement that laid heavy in the air between the two men.

“As long as nothing has changed on your side.”

Jacob’s lips twitched. “Now, Nico, what kind of man would you take me for? This is about an alliance.”

Nico raised his brows a little. “To the start of a new beginning.”

Jacob’s eyes shifted away from the man he had called his mortal enemy for years now, and instead shifted to you. “Your boys will like her.”

Your jaw clenched.

“A wife isn’t meant to be shared,” Nico retorted, though there was a hint of something in his voice you couldn’t establish. “Though, I am not sure how things are run in New York.”

Jacob laughed, but it wasn’t one of amusement like the room pretended it was. “Of course not. I am sure—”

“Do I get to know who I’m marrying now?” You spoke up, watching as every pair of eyes in the room turned to you. They were heavy and judging and focused, but your expression remained impassive. “Or am I expected to just sign a paper and be done with it?”

Nico’s eyes fell onto you, something swirling in them that felt strong and captivating and almost made you want to lean a little closer to read whatever was written in them. He tilted his head, almost like he was inquiring your words before he spoke.

“You’ll be my wife.”

You froze, blinking.

Understanding washed over Nico’s expression. “You didn’t know.”

“No,” you gritted out, your nails digging into your palm as that bubbling rage from earlier returned. “I did not.”

Nico’s eyes shifted to Jacob, and you resisted the urge to do the same.

“I didn’t see it necessary information to share,” was all Jacob responded with.

You bit your tongue.

“Hm,” Nico hummed, seeming to have a lot more to say but resisting the urge to do so. His eyes lingered on Jacob for a few moments, analysing and observing before his gaze settled on you again. “Are you returning to New Jersey with us, or do you wish to return to New York to collect your things?”

You opened your mouth but Jacob bet you to it.

“She will go with you once the marriage is official.”

Nico didn’t take his eyes off you. “I wasn’t asking you, Trouba.”

You heard someone cough behind you, but you found yourself staring right back at Nico.

He raised his brows in question.

And you could feel Jacob’s eyes boring into your side.

And maybe it was petty or maybe it was fuelled by the lingering anger you had towards the man, but you kept your eyes on Nico as you spoke.

“Might as well get used to New Jersey as soon as I can, no?” You stated simply, but you could have sworn he almost looked pleased with your response before his eyes returned to Jacob.

“Then it’s settled,” he said as he pushed himself off his chair, the two men behind him quickly taking a step closer as if on instinct. “We’ll be sure to send you a wedding invitation.”

…

You thought you had an idea what it would be like to live with the New Jersey Devils, truthfully because you didn’t assume it would be all that different to life with the Rangers. You weren’t naive enough to think both organisations were run the exact same way, but you assumed there would be a lot more similarities than there actually were.

The first thing that caught you by surprise was the way they talked.

You hadn’t spoken a word as you left the room, not taking Nico’s offer to say your goodbyes to the Rangers you had come with. The last thing you needed to hear was an earful from Jacob for not following his orders, or his plan (the one he conveniently kept to himself and expected everyone to simply know). You followed Nico out the door, trying not to feel so on edge about having the two other Devils flanking you from behind.

When you reached the car, it wasn’t too much of a surprise that Nico reached to open your door. Most men were raised to act like gentlemen in this life, even if they were far from it. He waited until you were settled in the seat behind the passenger’s seat, seatbelt clicked in place before he closed the door.

You were somewhat surprised to find him round the car and settle on the other side of the backseat, and not sit in the front. You tried not to stare at him too much.

You expected the drive back to be similar to the journey you had with Trouba this morning. It almost startled you the way the three of them instantly broke out into conversation.

It wasn’t anything damning or secretive, but it still felt wrong to listen in. It felt wrong for them to talk in front of you. It felt like a culture shock, being in a car and not having the people inside the vehicle with you being overly paranoid at the car being tapped. It felt weird that they didn’t even hesitate, didn’t even wait until the dark haired man (the vague memory of his name on the tip of your tongue) in the front had turned the key in the ignition.

“I get to choose the music since I rode shotgun!” The blond in the passenger seat blurted out before the car had even reversed out of its space.

“Fuck off, you like my music!” Nico snapped back.

“Sure, Boss, sure.”

You blinked.

The fact they spoke was one thing, but you certainly didn’t expect them to talk to each other like that. The fact they spoke to Nico—their boss—like that. It was far from what you were expecting.

“Back me up, Siegs,” the blond tried again but the man in the driver’s seat just snorted.

“I don’t care, Jesper,” Jonas replied, though there was a smile on his face.

Jesper let out a huff. “You are so fake in front of him, I know you hate it.”

Jonas only shrugged in response, which made Nico’s smile widen a little.

You tried not to gape at the three of them, but it was a little difficult. It wasn’t like you expected to be treated like an outcast—although, maybe you did—but you certainly weren’t expecting them to seem so…relaxed around you.

The silence that usually filled the Rangers car was nowhere to be seen. The underlying tension between the boss and his men was non-existent. It almost felt like you were sitting in a car full of friends. Maybe even a family.

It was a little disconcerting.

The second thing that caught your attention amongst everything else was the way they treated you.

You knew the expectations of a mob wife. You knew that arranged marriages, like yours and Nico’s, had been happening for decades now. You had seen many play out with your own eyes back with the Rangers, saw what was expected of these women who were thrown into new homes and lives for the sake of alliances, money and more.

It wasn’t a surprise when Nico led you through the house, guiding you upstairs with a hand placed in the dip of your back. The shock came when he stopped suddenly outside a door, turning to you with an expectant look.

“This is your room. I thought you would want to rest for tonight, maybe have some time to yourself,” Nico explained, polite and curt, like a true gentleman. “I can have some dinner sent up to you. And my office is just down the hall. Feel free to knock if you need anything.”

You stared at him with a confused expression.

Nico’s brows furrowed a little in response. “Sorry, is that okay? You look…lost.”

“You said your room,” you said, though the boy still looked a bit confused. “Instead of ours.”

“Oh,” Nico nodded, realisation dawning over his expression before he gave you a polite smile. “My room is the next one over.”

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. “We aren’t sharing a room?”

“We aren’t married,” he stated simply.

“Do you expect us to share a room after we are married?” You asked.

His expression remained impassive and unreadable. “If you wish so.”

There was a small voice in the back of your head telling you he was being genuine, and yet, somehow, that only made your confusion grow.

“Goodnight, Rogue,” was all Nico said before he headed down the hall, leaving you lost in your own thoughts and suspicions and mixed emotions.

You thought there was nothing less that the New Jersey Devils could do to catch you by surprise. And you were very wrong about that.

You had hardly slept the night before. There was something unsettling being away from the place you had called home your whole life. There was something even more unsettling knowing you were in enemy territory—even if you couldn’t really call it that anymore. There was just something unsettling about lying in a bed, knowing that you didn’t know a single soul beyond the door.

And after tossing and turning, you had mostly given up by the time someone knocked on your door just after nine in the morning.

You had almost expected that yesterday was the last you would see of Nico before he rushed off, hiding away in his office or meetings or whatever other excuses he could make to avoid you. You certainly weren’t expecting to find him on the other side of your door, a polite smile on his face once again.

“Good morning,” he greeted you, his hands tucked behind his back. The sun had barely been in the sky for a few hours and the man was dressed immaculately in a shirt and suit pants, looking far too put together. “Sleep well?”

“Yes,” you lied, because it wasn’t exactly like you wanted to get into the details with your soon-to-be husband. “Can I help you?”

“Oh yes,” he cleared his throat a little, taking a step back and only then did you realise he wasn’t alone. The boy beside him was taller, a little skinnier too. With curly hair and a baby face, you would guess he was at least a couple of years younger than Nico. “This is Luke.”

You glanced over the boy before your gaze returned to Nico. “Is he my babysitter?”

Nico’s lips twitched upwards. “I was going to say bodyguard.”

“Semantics.”

Luke cleared his throat a little, ducking his head down but not fast enough for you not to see the small smirk playing on his lips.

Nico straightened his spine before he spoke, his expression impassive again. “He can help you with whatever you need. And if he can’t, then he knows someone who can.”

“Let me guess,” you started, leaning against the door as you surveyed the older man with a knowing look. “He’s under strict orders to make sure I don’t run off?”

Nico’s brows furrowed together. “Of course not. If you wish to go out somewhere, Luke will accompany you.”

You could only blink in response. You felt as though you had been doing that a lot lately.

“Oh.”

You didn’t remember what else Nico had said before he ran off, muttering something about a meeting and someone called Jack—the name familiar once again—blowing up his phone. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if it mattered. Everything in the last twenty-fours had thrown your life upside down, you didn’t think you could handle much more.

And then Luke turned to you with a shit-eating grin on his face and said, “wanna go get McDonald’s breakfast?”

…

You had come to realise that despite his baby face and slight cartoonish laugh, Luke wasn’t as bad as you expected him to be.

Back in New York with the Rangers, you had crossed paths with your fair share of young and ambitious members. They were dedicated and strong-willed and determined to do anything to prove themselves to the cause, to prove themselves to their boss. They were willing to be ruthless, merciless and cold-hearted.

New Jersey was very different.

There was a strong lack of fear in the air, replaced with something more akin to encouragement. The boys here didn’t fear to make mistakes as badly as you had seen in the Rangers. They followed the rules and did what they were told because they wanted to, because they wanted to thrive. Not because they were scared of what would happen to them otherwise.

Truthfully, you didn’t know how you felt about it.

“Every week?”

“Every week,” Luke confirmed with a nod.

“Without fail?”

“Mhm,” he nodded once again.

“Everyone?”

“Usually,” Luke answered, pausing for a moment before he shrugged. “Unless someone has something else on. But nobody actively goes out of their way to miss it. Candy would kill them.”

You paused for a moment, your brows furrowed together as you tried to put a face to the name, only to come short. In your defence, though it had been close to a week since you arrived, most of your time had been spent with Luke. You would see people here and there, wandering around the house or passing by, and Luke would always try to inform you on who they were as best he could. But there were so many new names and new faces and new…everything to get used to.

You still felt like an outsider wandering the halls.

You still felt pretty pissed that Trouba, or any of the Rangers back home for that matter, hadn’t tried reaching out to you.

You still felt very fucking confused on the fact you had yet to see Nico since the day he brought you to Jersey. It seemed as though he was hiding away to avoid you after all.

“You’ll know her when you see her,” Luke informed you, seeming to pick up on the confusion on your face. “She’s the loud one in colourful clothes who has a guy resembling a lovesick puppy following her around.”

You raised your brows in question.

“Long story,” Luke snorted. “But where Candy goes, John follows.”

You nodded. “And John is…”

“Tall guy, dark curly hair, always silently brooding and judging people,” Luke listed off like it would help. “He kinda looks at you like he wants to kill you.”

You let out a huff of amusement. “You sure he doesn’t just do that to you?”

Luke paused, almost as though he was having a revelation.

Your lips twitched upwards. And then, because apparently you couldn’t keep a nice thing going, you found yourself asking, “are you even supposed to be telling me all this?”

He frowned. “What? That John is kinda emotionally constipated?”

“I—” You paused, your nose scrunching up a little. “What? No. Just about everyone in general.”

Luke stared at you. “Why wouldn’t I tell you?”

“Information,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Anyone with two working eyes could see half the shit I tell you,” Luke retorted with a snort. “It’s hardly confidential information when I tell you what a pain in the ass Jack is. Or that Dawson goes through three bottles of shampoo in a month. Or that—”

“That you are scared of spiders?” You interrupted, something close to a teasing smile on your lips as you watched the boy scoff.

“I’m not!” He insisted. “That spider just caught me by surprise.”

“You screamed.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see it.”

And even if you never said it to Luke, it was weird he was being so open with you about the members of the New Jersey Devils. Every piece of information—no matter how small or insignificant—could be used against you. It was a life motto, one ingrained into you when you grew up as a Ranger. It felt like a basic life rule everyone followed.

At least, it did back in New York.

In New Jersey, it seemed like the second you stepped foot onto their premise, they saw you as one of their own. And once you were one of their own, there were no secrets between you. Everyone knew everything about everyone—or at least, a general understanding. No one was shying away from each other, from you.

You didn’t know how you felt about it, but it did make your heart pine for something familiar. For something that felt like home.

And New Jersey would never be that.

…

To your utter surprise, the next time you saw Nico was that following Sunday.

You weren’t naive to think he would be glued to your side, that much was confirmed when he ordered Luke to be your round-the-clock bodyguard. He wanted to keep an eye on you, he just didn’t want to be the person to do it. You were somewhat surprised he didn’t send one of the bigger guys—like Kevin or Kurtis—to be your bodyguard, someone to intimidate you. Though, you assumed he was probably saving them for more important jobs than a glorified babysitter.

Your days had been blurring into one, and though you hadn’t spent much time in Jersey, it had felt like a lifetime.

Your life was stuck in routine and you had gotten pretty used to it by that point.

Luke would be at your door by eight sharp, ready to get the day started. You would share every meal with him, though it varied whether you both bothered in the kitchen or went somewhere out to eat—Luke had been enjoying showing you various places around the city. But that was about as exciting as your days got. You might bump into some others, talk to them, get to know them.

But your days were boring, pointless and repetitive.

The only slight change to your routine was Sunday. The unspoken but very relevant rule of every member attending the dinner, by your surprise, extended to you too. Luke had told you as much over breakfast, talking away about how Candy had been interrogating him on what dishes you would prefer.

You had told him you didn’t care—because you didn’t and you had a feeling it would give him a harder time with Candy, which amused you.

However, Luke had been frustratingly vague with the timings of everything. It wasn’t a big deal, considering you didn’t have much else on your plate to be worried about. But the limited wardrobe and Luke’s shrugged response when asked about the dress code for the dinner was turning out to be quite the issue.

It was somewhere just past seven when you heard three knocks on your door.

“I’m decent!” You called out, frowning at the few options hanging in your wardrobe. It was quite sad, to be honest. But you hadn’t had the chance to get everything transferred from your New York apartment, not that anyone from the Rangers seemed eager to offer their help.

But instead of coming in like he usually did, Luke knocked again.

You frowned, turning to look at the door. “Just come in!”

The door remained shut.

“You’re so dramatic,” you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes as you made your way towards the door. You reached for the handle, fully prepared to see Luke on the other side with his face in his phone or even giving you a shit-eating grin like he knew he got under your skin.

You were not expecting Nico to be standing on the other side.

“Oh.” You blinked. “I thought you were Luke.”

Nico’s lips twitched. “I gave him the night off.”

You raised your brows. “Oh?”

“There was a small change in plans.” Nico continued. “I thought I would escort you to dinner.”

“Escort me,” you repeated, something quite like amusement lacing your voice. “I didn’t realise these big dinners were so fancy. Should I change?”

“We won’t be joining the others this week. I thought we could have dinner alone,” Nico corrected, his eyes watching you closely like he was inspecting your reaction. “If that is okay with you.”

You tried to hide your surprise that he was giving you an option. A part of you wondered if it was a formality, something he phrased like an option but was really a command—something Jacob would do often. Yet, you couldn’t really find yourself imagining Nico was one of those people.

“Just the two of us?” You questioned.

Nico nodded before he spoke. “I thought it would be best for us to get to know each other.”

Your interest piqued but you didn’t show much as you nodded, telling him to give you a few more minutes before you joined him.

For the dinner itself, he led you away from the large dining room where you assumed the large group dinner was taking place. He didn’t say a word as you walked, seeming comfortable enough in the silence until you reached the room.

And Nico played the part of a gentleman well. He opened the door and guided you in first. He pulled the chair out and waited for you to settle in your seat before he even made his way to his seat. He reached for the wine and filled your glass before even daring to touch his own.

You felt on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You look tense.”

You raised your brows. “Just what a woman wants to hear.”

Nico’s lips twitched. “I have a feeling that you wouldn’t care what people say about you.”

“Your feeling would be correct.”

“Your reputation precedes you,” he mused, leaning back against his chair with an ease only a man in power would have.

You tilted your head. “And yet, you still agreed to marry me.”

“Who said your reputation wasn’t what appealed to me the most?” Nico retorted, hiding the smirk on his lips as he took a sip from his wine glass.

“I am sure whatever flowery promises Jacob added definitely sold it,” you commented, unable to hide the bite in your voice.

Nico stared at you for a few moments before he spoke. “I do apologise.”

You raised your brows in questioning.

“For blindsiding you that day,” Nico continued. “I was under the impression you were aware of the contract.”

“Funnily enough, I was not informed my name had been thrown into a deal,” you replied, jaw clenching a little as the reminder of what Jacob had inserted you into washing over you. This was your home now, not New York. “Jacob knew better than to tell me.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, your name wasn’t officially included,” Nico added.

You paused, a crease forming between your brows. “What do you mean?”

“Just that the official agreement between the Devils and Rangers included me marrying someone but no names were included for technicality reasons,” Nico answered and it took everything in you to keep your face straight.

Up until this point, you were under the impression that Jacob had practically thrown you into the deep end with no warning because your name was the one on the contract. You had seen it time and time again in arranged marriages, you had seen demands to be made because men felt entitled to certain women or dangled them in front of the enemy as a bargaining chip.

If you were being completely honest, you had assumed that was what happened here. You had assumed back and forth negotiations had been made and Jacob had deemed you the best bargaining chip to get whatever he wanted from the Devils. The Rangers tended to be old school and traditional that way.

It never occurred to you that you weren’t a part of this, that you didn’t need to be a part of it.

“So, Jacob just offered me up to fill a spot?” You questioned, your voice remaining steady and calm as your mind swirled with a million thoughts.

Nico’s eyes glimmered with an unreadable emotion. “Something like that.”

Your heart was racing in your chest. “And any woman could be in my spot and the agreement would still remain?”

“I guess so,” Nico stated, seeming like he wanted to say more but he remained quiet.

“Interesting,” you commented, a plan already forming in your head as you reached for your glass. “You may have made a mistake, you know?”

Nico’s lips twitched upwards. “What makes you say that?”

“If this is to be my wedding, I want it to be absolutely perfect,” you said with a casual shrug of your shoulders, staring at the man across the table from you. “I refuse anything less.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Nico mused before raising his glass in your direction. “Do as you please.”

Your smile widened in response as you took a long sip from your glass.

You were going to break Nico Hishcier and you were going to make sure he sent you running back to New York, if it was the last thing you did.

And then, you would make Jacob Trouba regret even uttering your name into the stupid agreement.

…

“It was targeted?”

Jesper nodded, his face serious and shoulders tensed as he slid a copy of the official police report across the table towards Nico. “Last night,” he said with a heavy sigh. “They broke in, roughed the place up a little and then set it on fire. It didn’t seem like they found whatever they wanted so they burned the place down.”

“Talk about dramatic,” Jack grumbled from his spot on the couch.

Nico shot the younger boy a look before turning back to Jesper. “What did the police say?”

“As much as you would expect,” the blond shrugged. “They don’t want to get involved if it’s dirty work.”

Nico raised a brow. “And is it?”

“You tell me,” Jesper shot back, his jaw clenching. “Did your best friend Trouba mention anything about his boys’ weekend plans to break into one of our warehouses?”

“Bratter is feeling sassy,” Jack sang, snickering even when Jonas tried to jab him with his elbow to keep quiet.

“These attacks have been going on for months,” Jesper pointed out, his lips turned downwards in a frown. “And they aren’t going to stop until we retaliate.”

“We don’t know who is behind it yet,” Nico retorted.

“Of course we fucking do.”

“Jesper,” Nico shot him a look. “I know you don’t like my agreement with Trouba but he wouldn’t break it. We signed the truce.”

“It isn’t official until the wedding,” Jonas spoke up from his spot on the couch next to Jack.

“Jacob Trouba is many things but stupid isn’t one of them,” Nico sighed, ignoring the ‘ehhhh’ Timo muttered out as he leaned back in his chair. “And it would be incredibly stupid to target the people you are trying to sign an alliance with.”

“Still,” Jesper grumbled as he nodded at the police report. “One week earlier and half of our stock could have been up in flames.”

Timo raised his brows. “You think someone knew?”

“I think someone may be getting delayed information,” Jesper corrected.

“I want you and Timo investigating this,” Nico said as he tapped his finger on the file. “Dig out the reports from the other targeted attacks and—”

RING! RING! RING!

Nico frowned a little as the shrill of his phone echoed through the room. He ignored the boys’ curious looks as he reached for it, answering the call and lifting it to his ear. “Nico Hischier speaking.”

“Uh, Mr Hishcier, so sorry to bother you,” a mousy, timid voice spoke from the other side. “This is Jeff from the bank calling and—”

“Get on with it, Jeff,” Nico stated bluntly.

“Right, yes. Uh, there has been a suspicious amount of transactions coming out of your bank today and we wanted to inform you in case you wished us to freeze the accounts or—”

Nico tried to bite back his smile. “Where are these transactions coming from?”

“The last one to go through was a purchase of four hundred thousand dollars for…flowers?”

This time Nico actually let out a loud, boisterous laugh which caught both Jeff and the boys in his study off guard.

“What was the one before that?” Nico asked, clearly amused.

“Three hundred dollars spent at…McDonalds.”

“Keep letting them through,” Nico assured the man on the other side of the phone. “That’s just my fiancée having some fun.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Mr Hischier, and congratulations!”

Nico thanked the man before hanging up, throwing his phone back down on the desk before he turned his attention back to the meeting they were having. However, he seemed to pick up on the eerie silence and lifted his head to find all of the boys looking at him with various expressions painted across their faces.

“Out with it then,” Nico said eventually.

“Count on Nico bagging the most expensive fiancée in New York,” Timo teased, a shit-eating grin on his face.

But Nico just shrugged. “It’s her wedding day. She wants it to be perfect.”

“Even if it leaves you bankrupt,” Jonas snorted.

“As long as she’s happy,” Nico answered, sincere in his words.

“If only Trouba knew how whipped you were for his girl, he would have never agreed to the deal,” Jack commented, raising his hands in mock surrender when Nico turned to glare at him.

“She’s not Trouba’s girl,” Nico gritted out.

“Yikes, Boss has claws.”

“Anyone with a pair of eyes can see how whipped Nico is,” Jesper commented with a huff of laughter. “Trouba is, in fact, stupid if he didn’t notice. Now, can we please get back to the main problem before he starts singing limericks.”

Nico frowned. “Hey—”

“My money is on the Sabres being involved!”

“As if they even know how to light a match.”

…

“You look like you have had a busy day.”

You turned your head to find Nico standing in the door entrance, leaning against the frame as his eyes wandered over the dozens of bags in your room. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his sleeves were rolled to his elbows and a few strands of hair were falling into his face. It almost annoyed you that this was the most dishevelled you had seen him and he still looked so good and put-together.

“I decided to take it slow,” you answered casually, turning back around before you could see the smile tugging on his lips. “I didn’t want to scare Luke off too soon.”

“The boy is tougher than he looks,” Nico commented. “I am sure he can handle whatever you throw at him.”

Your lips twitched. “You weren’t the one listening to him whine about carrying a couple of bags.”

“A couple is an understatement,” Nico mused. “He’s still unpacking the car with Dawson’s help.”

You glanced over your shoulder, something victorious and smug shining in your eyes. “Is there a problem with that?”

Nico flashed you a smile. “My money is your money. My boys are your boys. Knock yourself out, schatz.”

You blinked, his words barely processing in your head before you realised he had already begun walking away. You glanced down at the countless bags littering your bedroom floor, most of them useless purchases you picked up to push the balance higher.

And yet, Nico just walked away without a care in the world.

…

“I really wouldn’t recommend this.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not listening to you.”

“Rogue—”

You rolled your eyes, listening to the satisfying clicks of your heels against the floor as you made your way down the corridor. “He’s my fiancé.”

“He is in a meeting,” Luke shot back. “He doesn't like being interrupted. Not even by us.”

“I’m not you,” you retorted, almost hearing the eye roll from the younger boy following behind you. “And I don’t care if he is in a meeting, he can make time for me.”

“That’s not how it works,” Luke muttered under his breath.

“It is now.”

“God, I’m going to have to plan a funeral.”

You ignored the boy’s last feeble attempts to stop you from going through with it—or to at least knock on the door—but it was hopeless as you reached Nico’s study, hand on the knob and opening the door before Luke could even think to pull you back. Or throw you over his shoulder and run back down the corridor.

The room fell silent as you stood in the doorway.

You didn’t recognise the men sitting across from Nico at the large desk. They were old and burly and quite literally looked like characters out of Sopranos. They turned to face you, eyebrows furrowed and lips turned downwards at the interruption.

You smiled in response.

“What’s the meaning of this?” One of them spoke, the Jersey accent strong and thick and coating his words generously. “We’re doin’ business here, sweetheart. Bounce!”

You glanced at the man, unfazed before you turned your gaze towards Nico who was watching you with interested eyes. “I need to talk to you.”

“We are busy here, lady, can’t you see?” The other man spoke, huffing and puffing in his seat and it took everything inside you not to roll your eyes at his tantrum.

“And now I’m busy with him,” you stated simply, arms crossed over your chest as you stepped further into the room. “Scram. You are done here.”

The first man huffed, puffing his chest out as he opened his mouth to say something but Nico cut him off.

“Go.”

Both men turned to Nico, angry and outraged. “You cannot be serious?!”

“Go,” Nico repeated himself, a little more firmly this time.

The men were smart enough not to test Nico’s patience any further, rushing out the room with their tails between their legs as they did. It almost made you smile the way they avoided your gaze as they did so. You heard Luke let out a sigh behind you, muttering something under his breath as he followed the other men out and closed the door behind him.

“You’ve intrigued me,” Nico spoke up, leaning back against his chair. “What could possibly be so important that you needed to discuss it with me?”

You grinned as you lifted the folders in your hand. “Wedding venues.”

Nico blinked. “Wedding venues?”

“Wedding venues,” you repeated, your eyes eagerly watching every inch of his face for a reaction.

It took years of training to school your features as Nico nodded you over, still relaxed in his chair as he smiled back at you. Back in New York, a move like this would’ve gotten you killed and yet here—

“Show me,” he replied.

Your eyes stayed on his face, waiting for a slip up as you walked towards his desk. You rounded the piece of furniture, pushing the boundary a little bit more as you hopped up on the desk and placed the folder down beside you rather than handing it to him.

“Comfortable?” He asked, his voice almost sounding playful as he reached for the folder.

“I’ve sat on more comfortable desks,” you commented offhandedly.

His eyes darkened a little at that. But before you could even bring yourself to comment on it, he was already opening the folder and scanning through the options.

They were obscene, if you were completely honest. They were tacky and loud and far from a place you would even step foot in, let alone have your wedding in. But they were expensive—so expensive that it would send a normal man into cardiac arrest to see the numbers beside each venue.

Then again, Nico Hischier wasn’t a normal man.

“Which one would make you happiest?” He eventually asked, lifting his head to look at you expectantly.

Your eyes narrowed. “Are you that incapable of making a decision, Hischier?”

His lips twitched. “And if I say I just want you happy?”

“I would say that is a weak man’s response,” you replied, lifting your chin a little. It was a testy comment to make, not one that many men in power would take lightly.

To your shock, Nico just laughed. “Then I say pick the church.”

You raised your brows a little—the church was the most expensive option on the list.

“Do you disagree?” Nico followed up, watching the way you stared at him with an odd look in your eyes.

“No,” you said as you took the folder from him. “The church will do.”

“Is that all?” Nico asked, something in his voice that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was like he was eager, whether that was for you to leave or stay, you couldn’t quite work out.

“Yes,” you answered, though you made no move to slide off the desk just yet. “Seeing as I have nothing else to do in this place. Just a sweet, complying fiancée doing her duties and planning a wedding.”

Nico’s eyes glimmered in interest. “Sweet sums you up pretty well, no?”

Your eyes narrowed in a glare.

“I mean, by all means, take the honeymoon planning off my hands if that is what you want,” Nico continued, shifting a bit closer so your foot was nudging his thigh. You were almost distracted by the casual drop of information about the honeymoon he was apparently planning.

“You’re mocking me,” you stated bluntly.

“A little,” he mused.

“You know my reputation,” you added. “Surely you knew what kind of wife I would be.”

“I had my guesses,” Nico confirmed with a nod.

“And yet, here we are.”

“Here we are indeed,” Nico grinned. “Do you want to reserve the venue or shall I?”

It was safe to say Luke steered clear of you for the rest of the day following your mood after you left Nico’s study.

…

“You don’t get it,” Luke huffed, fingers tapping along the wheel. “This is the best bakery on the east coast, maybe even the whole country!”

You raised your brows. “Is that so?”

“Just wait until you try Peter’s strawberry tarts,” Luke insisted, so serious that it took everything inside you to not snort. “It’s like…heaven in your mouth.”

“Peter is just that good, huh?” You mused.

“You’re teasing me now but you will be wanting the guy to make your wedding cake after you try some of his desserts,” Luke stated confidently.

You had no real plan for today other than the desperate need to get out of the house. You were bored out of your mind and Luke was not too far behind, considering you spent almost every waking hour with the boy. It had been an offhand comment about wanting something sweet that made the boy grab your hand and drag you out of the house.

Luke was adamant that Peter’s Bakery in Hoboken was the best bakery in the state. You had been content to just sit in the passenger seat and let the younger boy ramble on about how all the Devils frequented there, that Candy was known to visit once a week, that Jack tended to hide out there after a particularly bad day.

It was endearing to hear about the place.

It was even more endearing that Luke trusted you enough to take you there, even if you wouldn’t dare to admit that out loud.

“Pete?”

“One sec!”

Luke glanced at you over his shoulder, grinning wider than you had ever seen before turning back to the counter. A few moments passed before a man walked out: brown hair, average build, a little mousy looking. And the apron covered in flour truly added to the baker charm.

“Moose,” the boy greeted with a large smile. “What can I get for my second favourite Hughes?”

Luke rolled his eyes but began listing off far too many pastries and sweet treats for two people to enjoy.

Five minutes later, you found yourself sitting across from the boy in a booth with a large variety of baked goods laid out on the table in front of you. It was borderline overwhelming and intense but you didn’t have the heart to stop Luke from ordering so much when he kept insisting on all the classics you had to try.

“So,” you began as the boy pushed a slice of apple pie towards you. “Moose?”

“It’s an old nickname,” Luke answered with a halfhearted shrug.

You raised a brow. “How old?”

Luke’s lips twitched. “Peter is an old friend of mine and Jack’s. He…he’s been there for us through a lot.”

“Because our line of business crosses paths with bakers so often,” you mused, lighthearted and playful. You could tell the words were heavier than he was letting on but you didn’t have the heart to start poking at old wounds. Not today.

Luke snorted. “Nah, he needed to lay low after some close calls. He made some deal with Nico. Boss offers him protection, he offers the best apple pie you will ever have in your entire life.”

You shot a glance towards the other boy, working away behind the counter with a sense of ease that told you he was comfortable, that he felt safe even being so out in the open and exposed to the public. It wasn’t something you saw often in this industry when people had a target on their back.

“He did?” You asked, your voice a little softer than before.

“He’s a good guy, you know,” Luke murmured in response, watching your expression closely.

“He has a reputation for being fair,” you commented absentmindedly. “Which is a load of bullshit when it comes to our work.”

“Not with Nico,” Luke retorted. “He is harsh when he needs to be. But he is understanding. He gets it.”

“Hm,” was all you could respond with, your mind spiralling with a million different stories of men in power that exploited and corrupted the world around them in the greedy hunt for more. You had seen men crumble under that desire, you had seen them sacrifice their lives and loved ones to get what they want.

You couldn’t imagine someone having all that power and not being corrupted by it.

“Hey,” Luke whined, all youngest child like, as he lightly kicked your shin under the table. “Stop procrastinating and try the pie!”

You rolled your eyes, making a show of grabbing the fork and cutting off a good sized chunk before shovelling it in your mouth.

Luke looked at you expectantly. “So?”

“It’s good.”

He blinked before frowning. “Just good? Are your taste buds broken?”

“Fine, it’s very good,” you corrected with a small smile on your lips. “But it’s not the best apple pie I have ever had.”

Luke raised his brows. “Oh yeah? And where was that?”

“Tony’s Tiny Bakery,” you shot back, watching as the boy huffed across from you. “It was around the corner from this cute Italian place that did amazing garlic bread too. I’ll have to take you one day, it’s only—”

And then you paused.

And it was stupid to say when you had quite literally spent the better part of the last few weeks in your new home, when you had been coming up to the three month mark in New Jersey. But it hit you that you would never see New York again, not in the way you had growing up.

You were a New Jersey Devil now. You had a new home and new territory. You had a new family you were supposed to be accepting. You weren’t able to step back in the city you grew up in, not without direct permission from the people you used to call your family.

You had been so pissed that day when Jacob had thrown you into the deep end of an arranged marriage you had never known about that you wanted to get him back, you wanted to hit him where it hurt and have one last act of defiance. You had walked away from New York with no proper goodbye because you knew it wasn’t what he wanted.

And truthfully, it wasn’t what you wanted either.

You never got the chance to say goodbye to such a large part of your life and identity. You never got the chance to say goodbye to the people who raised you and the people you grew up with. You never got the chance to visit your favourite places in New York with the freedom of being a Ranger before you jumped ship.

It never really hit you that you missed New York as much as you did.

“I get it.”

You almost jumped in your seat when you felt a hand over your own, when you blinked away the tears welling up in your eyes to find Luke smiling fondly from the other side of the booth. You tried to pull your hand away and pretend everything was okay, but the boy tightened his hold on you.

“I know what it’s like to leave the only place you called home,” Luke murmured, his voice soft but thick with emotion. “It gets easier.”

You nodded, swallowing the ball in the back of your throat before you flashed him a small smile. “This apple pie is pretty damn good.”

Luke’s smile widened. “Of course it is. I don’t mess around when it comes to food, Rogue. Catch up.”

You let out a small but genuine laugh in response.

…

“How quickly can you get dressed?”

Your eyes wandered over your magazine page towards the boy standing at the bottom of the couch you were currently laying on. He was dressed in his usual attire—the shirt, dress pants and nice shoes that probably cost more than the average man’s monthly salary—and raised your brows.

“Depends,” you answered as you lowered the magazine you were halfheartedly reading to rest on your stomach. “Get dressed as in ‘we are walking around the park’ or ‘we are about to go to a gala’?”

Nico smiled a little. “More ‘wear something that is comfortable and easy to carry guns on you’.”

Now that caught your attention.

You sat up on the couch, the magazine abandoned on the pillow beside you as you stared at the boy with interest. “You’re taking me on a job?”

“I was hoping to use your expertise for something,” Nico said with gentle but watchful eyes. “Are you in?”

“Give me fifteen minutes,” was all you responded with before walking past the boy and towards your bedroom.

Less than thirty minutes later, you found yourself slipping out of Nico’s car and looking at the absolute mess in front of you with raised brows, a low whistle of surprise leaving your lips as you took in the damaged property.

“And this was done recently?”

“Two weeks ago,” Nico confirmed with a nod, frowning at the warehouse with a look of frustration and annoyance. “Third warehouse chosen. Fourth targeted attack.”

You glanced at him. “What was the other?”

“A person,” Nico frowned. “We were lucky that their plan failed, which is why I assume they began to target buildings instead.”

“Coward move,” you frowned, choosing to ignore the way Nico snorted a little at your response. “What did the warehouse hold?”

“Just some of our basic exports,” Nico shrugged.

Your eyes widened a little.

He frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, clearly your throat a little. “Just a little surprised you told me, to be honest. I thought you would have given some weird elusive answer.”

His frown deepened a little. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m a glorified stranger,” you retorted like it was obvious.

“You’re my fiancée,” Nico corrected, his voice still serious and sincere as he spoke. “What’s mine is yours.”

You swallowed a little at his intensity. “So this mess is mine too?”

“Just like everything else I own,” he said with a nod. “And as much as is your right to be here as my fiancée, I also brought you because you’re smart. Because you know how to get in people’s heads. Because you’ll be able to spot things neither me nor the others will see.”

“Trouba’s favourite tool,” you deadpanned.

“You’re your own person here, Rogue,” Nico assured you, something else written in his expression that you couldn’t quite read. “It’s something you should get used to. You’re a Devil now.”

You didn’t get much of a chance to reply before he wandered towards the desolate warehouse, footsteps crunching with every step he took whilst you were left slightly baffled by the enigma that was Nico Hischier.

…

“So, is she in love with you yet?”

Nico shot Jack a look.

“Because from what Luke’s told me, she has been doing everything under the sun to piss you off. And I’m no expert in love but that doesn’t seem like something someone in love would do,” Jack continued as he settled happily on the couch in Nico’s study—one of his favourite spots.

“Did I not give you a job?” Nico asked bluntly, leaning back in his chair and sighing. He knew there was no point of attempting to do any more work whilst the younger boy was in the room.

“Yeah but we both know I’ll get to it eventually,” he waved the older man off, his hands tucked behind his head as he lounged back on the comfy couch. “This is far more entertaining.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico sniffed.

“I have seen you shoot a man between his eyes without a second thought,” Jack mused, the glee in his voice unmissable as he continued to tease the older man. “And yet, I watched you have a full breakdown to Dougie on whether or not your fiancée would prefer your hair slick back or product free on the off chance you bumped into her that day.”

“I like to make a good impression,” Nico retorted.

“You’re trying to seduce her and failing miserably,” Jack shot back.

“She is my fiancée,” Nico huffed out.

“She is the girl you have been downright obsessed with since she knocked you on your ass four years ago,” Jack corrected. “And she doesn’t even remember.”

“I was undercover,” Nico defended. “Pally hardly recognised me that day, too.”

“Are you listening to yourself, Hisch?” Jack questioned, his brows raised in amusement. “This is getting a little pathetic.”

Nico let out a heavy sigh, raising his hand towards Jack for him to continue. “Okay then, what do you suggest?”

“Less mind games and playing the elusive mob boss character you’ve been trying out,” Jack answered, his voice a hint softer than before and it caught him off guard, “Be Nico—the real version.”

“That was very High School Musical of you,” Nico teased.

“I knew it was a bad idea letting you watch those movies,” Jack playfully groaned but he was grinning back. “I take it back, put the scary mob boss face back on. She is gonna laugh you back to Switzerland if you quote that shit to her.”

“She could be a fan,” Nico pointed out.

But Jack just shot him a look. “I know you’re blinded by love and all that jazz, but even you have to know that is a load of bullshit.”

“Go do you work now, Jack.”

The younger boy gave him a mock salute. “On it, Boss.”

…

In your mind, the plan was full proof, effective and successful.

In reality, it was a form of torture that didn’t have the results you wanted and instead left your brain scrambled on whether you really wanted it to work or not.

When you stepped out of that meeting room months ago, you were under the impression you were stuck in this arranged marriage with Nico Hishcier. A week later, you thought you had a loophole and a clear path back to New York and the life you had.

Instead, you were laying in your bed and reeling that although you may not be the typical mob wife, Nico Hishcier was far from the typical mob boss. And it was completely fucking with your plan.

And maybe you weren’t fully ready to admit it but it was fucking with your desire to go back home too—if New York even felt like home anymore. New Jersey was a breath of fresh air that you never knew you needed, that you never knew you wanted.

The Rangers may have been your family once upon a time, but the Devils felt more like the word than the former ever had. You felt like you were watching the family of them through a window, and you were starting to realise maybe being on the inside wouldn’t be so bad as you thought. Maybe being in a place where they valued and listened to you wouldn’t be so bad either.

But New York was all you ever knew, was all you ever thrived in. It was hard to just throw that all away.

Even if Nico Hischier was making the option of staying very appealing.

Even when some of the other Devils—the ones that weren’t your biggest fans—felt more welcoming than the boys back in New York.

Exhibit A: Jesper Bratt.

Nico had pulled Luke out for the day, saying he needed the boy’s help with a different job. He hadn’t offered to put anyone in Luke’s place. To be honest, you think Luke was only continuing with it because he enjoyed spending time with you too. But it had been Jesper who offered himself into Luke’s role when you had mentioned visiting a few shops in town by yourself.

It didn’t take a genius to work out he was suspicious of you.

You didn’t take it to heart, not really. He wasn’t going out of his way to make you uncomfortable or wary, but the lingering tension was enough to make you observe him with the same watchful gaze.

“You don’t like me.”

Jesper’s eyes flickered to meet yours in the rearview mirror before returning to the road. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s written all over your face. And the extra gun you slipped into your waistband before we left.”

His cheeks burned a little at your words.

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “You’re his second-in-command. It’s your job to be wary, to have Nico’s back.”

Jesper hummed but didn’t say anything right away.

Instead, a few minutes of silence passed as you two made your way through usual Jersey traffic. The radio was on, but turned on so low that the two of you could barely hear it. The streets were busy, even for a random Thursday afternoon. It was like the world was going on as normal, despite the lingering tension in the car between you and the blond.

“I do like you,” Jesper said eventually. “I just don’t trust you.”

“Because you think I’m going to betray the Devils?” You guessed.

“Because I think you are capable of hurting Nico far worse than a gunshot or a knife in the back ever could,” Jesper corrected, seeming to catch the surprise on your face.

“You think I would hurt him?” You questioned, ignoring the way your stomach twisted at the words. Growing up in this life had meant you had seen far worse than a gunshot or a knife in the back, had meant you had done much worse. And yet the idea of any of it being directed towards Nico seemed to leave you on edge and make the hairs on the back of your neck rise.

“I think you are capable of a lot without even realising it,” Jesper answered honestly.

You didn’t reply to the blond but you wondered if your return to New York would hurt Nico.

You wondered why it made your chest feel tight and uncomfortable.

…

“So how did you get the nickname?”

You blinked out of your thoughts, looking over at Luke who was walking by your side. “What?”

“Rogue,” he said with a nod, like that was enough of an explanation. “Nicknames stick in this industry. So, where did you…go rogue to get it?”

You let out a small snort of laughter. “How do you not know it’s my actual name?”

Luke glanced at you, his brows furrowed together. “Is it?”

“No,” you grinned at him before shrugging. “I don’t know, to be honest. I just…never did well with listening to people’s instructions. It was a nickname my father gave me and I guess it just stuck.”

“You listened when Trouba sent you here though,” Luke pointed out, unfazed by the glare you sent his way. You assumed that was bound to happen after you spent almost every day with the boy for the last few months or so. He was bound to feel comfortable enough to poke at the uncomfortable subjects.

“Because I’m stubborn not stupid,” you shot back, giving the boy a look. “I value my life.”

Luke frowned. “You think he would’ve killed you if you didn’t comply?”

“He’s killed people for less,” you shrugged but noted the way the boy still looked uncomfortable, unsettled even. “He wouldn’t have killed me. I’m too valuable, even if I’m disrespecting him. He probably would’ve just put me on some really shit jobs until his ego was healed.”

Luke nodded, still looking quite on edge.

“Luke,” you stopped walking, placing your hand on his arm to catch his attention and make him stop too. Logically, you knew that he was a grown man and he could handle his own emotions. Especially in an industry like this. But another part of you—the part that had spent the last few months with the boy almost every day—felt the need to wipe that frown off his face. “It’s fine now. And it doesn’t matter.”

“Does it not?” Luke shot back at you. “You’ve been trying your hardest to find a loophole out of here, have you not? But you still want to go back there? Back to him? Even after everything he’s done to you?”

You blinked.

“I’m young but I’m not stupid,” Luke huffed out, shaking his head as he took a step back. “It’s—whatever. Let’s just go. You said you wanted to check out that shoe store?”

You took a step forward. “Luke—”

“We should head over now before heading back to the house. We—” He paused before continuing. “I don’t want to be late for dinner.”

…

You didn’t see Luke over the next few days.

He had sent a brief message about being busy wrapped up in a job Nico gave him, which albeit wasn’t the best excuse but you let him off. You weren’t sure what upset him and you didn’t think poking around and asking more questions would do any favours. So, you let the boy take his space and take his time.

It was Luke.

You had no doubts that he would talk to you again when he wasn’t as worked up or upset about the situation.

But the lack of daily companion left you feeling quite lonely, which was ironic considering you had considered your whole stay in New Jersey to be quite lonely as an outcast. You hadn’t realised just how much you relied on Luke’s company until he wasn’t knocking on your door every morning, convincing you to try some new outrageously overpriced cafe using Nico’s card to pay.

You broke around the third day, deciding to seek out your own company in the form of your fiancé.

“I was told you would be here.”

Nico lifted his head, peeking out from under the hood of the car he was currently hunched over. He glanced at you, an expression between surprised and elated as you stood on the opposite side of the garage.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, glancing around the large garage with eagle eyes. “Apparently this is how you spend your limited free time.”

Nico stood up straight, giving you a full look at the white tank top clinging onto his torso. It was criminal the way wiped his hands on a random rag, his biceps clenching with the movement before he tossed it to the side and gave you his full attention.

“I like fixing up old cars,” Nico said with a shrug, though there was a sense of ease in his posture. “It’s relaxing.”

You blinked. “Tinkering around with some old metal is calming? Even if you can’t get it running?”

He laughed. “It takes my mind off things.”

“How…mundane,” you responded, your brows furrowed together as you glanced at the few cars dotted around the garage. You didn’t know enough to know the brands or names of any of them. You didn’t even try to attempt it.

“Mundane is nice sometimes, especially with the lives we live,” Nico retorted and you were inclined to agree.

“This still seems stressful though,” you added.

Nico leaned against the car, arms crossed over his chest like he knew it would snag your gaze. “And what would you recommend I do?”

“I don’t know, something normal people do to relax,” you shrugged your shoulders. “Like, go on a picnic.”

Nico paused, staring at you as he tried to fight the grin off his face. “A picnic?”

“I don’t know!” You threw your hands up in mock surrender. “People do it all the time in movies and shit.”

“What movies are you watching?” Nico laughed, though he seemed to enjoy watching the way you tried to hold back your own amusement.

“They have picnics in plenty of movies,” you argued back.

“Alright then,” Nico nodded. “Then we will do it. You and me, tomorrow at twelve.”

You blinked. “What?”

“We are gonna have a picnic and be normal,” Nico stated, leaving no room for questions as he reached for the rag once again. “Unless you have some super normal thing you do to take your mind off things to do instead?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Shooting range.”

“That’s what I thought,” he snorted as he flashed you a grin. “Me and you, schatz, at twelve. Don’t be late.”

…

A small part of you thought Nico was joking about the picnic.

A larger part of you knew the boy would be knocking on your door by half past eleven, dressed in a pair of jeans and a hoodie and looking so normal. So unlike the mob boss you know him to be.

And the white bucket hat on his head was oddly endearing.

In complete honesty, you hadn’t expected much from the picnic and how seriously the boy would take it. Though, you should have known better when he parked his car, an excited smile on his face as he led you towards the grassy patch in the park where a blanket and wicker basket had been laid out.

“Oh wow,” you murmured out as you walked towards the scene, his palm warm and guiding on the small of your back.

“Really fits the movie vibes, huh?” Nico retorted with a knowing smile.

You snorted. “I feel so normal right now.”

“Then my job here is done,” he smiled as he leaned back on the blanket, balanced on his elbows as he looked up at you.

You were surprised how far he ran with a passive comment. You wondered what it must have looked like to people passing by the two of you, if you looked like a normal couple on a date, enjoying a sweet picnic together. You wondered if it even counted as a date at all.

It was ironic that the man beside you had been your fiancé for the better part of the last four months and you didn’t know much about him, that neither of you knew each other all that well.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

Nico paused, looking up from the small plates he was loading up for the two of you. “My favourite colour?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Red.”

“Favourite kind of music?”

“Swiss rap.”

“Favourite animal?”

“I don’t think I have one.”

“Cat person or dog person?”

“Both.”

Your nose scrunched up. “You can’t be both. That’s cheating.”

Nico raised his brows in amusement. “I don’t think I can cheat at a game I don’t know.”

“Just wanted to know what kind of man I am marrying,” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Is there where you tell me that being a cat person is your deal breaker?” Nico joked.

Your lips twitched. “It would be something I would have to take into consideration.”

“Might have to keep some secrets to save my marriage then,” Nico said with a sigh, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiled. You don’t think you had ever noticed that before. It was weird seeing someone in his position show any emotion but intimidation so easily.

You raised your brows. “Doesn’t everyone have a few skeletons in the closet?”

“Is this your subtle way of asking me what mine are?” He questioned, pushing the plate towards you. You were surprised to find a few of your favourite snacks on the plate. You wondered if he had bothered Luke or someone else to find out, or if it was a lucky guess.

“Would you tell me if I asked?” You shot back.

“I would tell you anything if you asked,” Nico replied, the playfulness replaced by sincerity that made your brain spiral a little.

“You know,” you tried to laugh it off. “I don’t think many people in this life agree with you there.”

“I’m not them and you’re not their fiancée,” he answered with a shrug. “Who gives a fuck what they think?”

You looked at him with a mixed expression. “And you’d answer anything I ask you right now?”

He gestured for you to continue. “Try me.”

You tilted your head, taking a few moments to contemplate before you spoke. “Did you know I was going to be the one waiting for you in that room?”

“I did,” he confirmed with a nod.

“And you had no issues with that?”

His lips twitched. “Quite the opposite.”

You shot him a curious look. “And if Jacob had lied to you? If there was someone else in the room?”

“I would have refused the alliance,” he stated simply, like he was reiterating a well-known fact.

You snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

“I would have,” Nico insisted, his expression remaining dead serious.

Your smile faltered a little. “Nico.”

“Rogue,” he mocked in the same tone of voice.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” you murmured.

Nico frowned. “Who said I was lying?”

“You would have refused an alliance that would massively benefit you?” You retorted, your brows furrowed a little. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Both sides went into that alliance wanting something,” Nico answered with a heavy look in his eyes, one that you couldn’t quite read. “I knew what I wanted and I wasn’t signing shit for anything but that.”

“And that was me?” You teased because the conversation was getting serious and your heart felt like it was in your throat and you were pretty sure you would lose your mind if Nico kept staring at you with those intense eyes. You were also pretty sure you would lose your mind if he looked away.

“Yes.”

You blinked, waiting for him to laugh but he didn’t.

“What?”

“I think you heard me clearly enough the first time,” Nico mused, watching the way a million emotions passed over your face.

“Oh,” was the only response you could come up with.

“Still don’t believe me?” Nico questioned, something like amusement in his voice. Something quite like a challenge too. Like he was expecting you to call him out on it, like he had been waiting for the chance to prove himself.

“And if I don’t?” You murmured, a little more breathless than you intended.

You watched as his eyes dropped to your lips, lingering for a few moments. “Then I’ll find a way to prove it.”

You opened your mouth to say something, though you weren’t even sure what. You didn’t know if you were going to beg for him to do it, to prove it. You didn’t know if you were going to tell him to stop playing whatever game he was playing. You didn’t know if you were going to tell him to fuck the vague, elusive chat and to just fucking kiss you already.

You were pretty sure it was most likely going to be the last option.

But you never got the chance to even utter a word before the loud, high-pitched shrill of a phone broke the moment.

You blinked, quickly glancing away and taking a few moments to ground yourself as Nico quickly sat up on the blanket. He patted his pockets before slipping his phone out, answering it with a slight peeved off look on his face.

However, that quickly changed when the person on the other side of the phone began speaking, the words muffled but the urgent tone was clear even to you.

It took less than a few seconds before Nico was scrambling to get up, abandoning the basket and blanket before he nodded for you to get up too. His hand was a little more pushy as he directed you towards his car, his face serious and almost murderous as he quickly got in the car, racing to turn it on.

“It’s Jack,” was all Nico could mutter out for context before the two of you were racing towards the house.

#nico hischier #nhl #new jersey devils #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier fic #nico hischier one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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mediumgayitalian · 7 months

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fic rec friday 3

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

Memories Made by zjass06

"Hi! I'm Will! You're my new neighbour!" the blonde boy beams; Nico frowns in turn, peering curiously at this Will. "My ma' says not to talk to strangers," Nico replies as he sits himself upon the grass. Will plops himself down next to the dark haired boy, who giggles so purely it makes his smile contagious. "I'm not a stranger, I'm your neighbour! You live next to me now and we can be friends!" Or A few snippets of Nico’s life and how his friendship develops with Will, all within a much treasured treehouse.

childhood friends to lovers will ALWAYS be elite. to me. and the centrality of this treehouse in this fic is so fucking cute bc they absolutely are the type of nerds to have a treehouse they use well into their late teens lol

2. Mafia by @buoyantsaturn

Nico is the most terrifying mob boss in New York, and Will is his live-in doctor. A Mafia Au

MY FAVE SOLANGELO SERIES TBH. like is it toxic a little bit? yeah. did the second one make me squeamish? yeah. in the 6/7 years since its been posted, have i read it literally DOZENS of times?? you betcha. idk man theres something about the danger of it all. the insane mob boss and the doctor hes whipped for. SO SO much fun and so so so romantic

3. you stormed into the battlefield (of my heart) by fedyaism

“Doctor Solace,” he says, “would you be willing to tend to a foe?” Will blinks. (He had practically expected everything but this.) “I’m sorry?” “I need you to heal an enemy for me. Can you do that?” Grace asks in a tone that lets Will know that he wasn’t really asking. “An… an enemy, sir?” “Yes. I will send him to you.” “Of course, General.” (What else could he say?)

this ends ambiguously but i am Choosing to believe they find each other again and live happily ever after for ever and ever bc im a weenie. its just...man fuck the military and i got no fondness for war BUT this isnt real and ergo i can sigh dreamily at love that is inherently kind of tragic and all the more desperately beautiful for you, yknow??

4. It's a Process by @oh-hush-its-perfect

When Nico comes out to Hazel, she really isn't sure how to react. Of course, she loves her brother to pieces, but something is holding her back. It takes a while to get over old beliefs. It takes a while to become accepting. It takes Hazel a while indeed. A.K.A. Nico is gay and Hazel can't wrap her head around it.

contrary to what the summary may lead you to believe, hazel is NOT at all homophobic in this fic. in fact her number one goal at all times is to be supportive, even as she struggles, and you know what? thats more important i think. her love for her brother is so transparently obvious in this one, she spends like 8k words doing everything she can to make SURE she is loving and accepting!!! hazel i love you. also the campfire scene had me giggling fr

5. three times everyone thought they hated each other by lizamarri

and the one time everyone realized they didn't ~ ft. capture the flag, big three kids sparring, will healing nico and being sassy about it, and more. enjoy!

NOTHING hits as hard as flirt fighting. truly nothing. also 3+1s are my weakness i stg, theres just something about outside pov and the sheer clarity of how much they love each other and love driving each other up the wall lmfao

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

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my-fall-from-grace · 7 months

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ok who’s writing the mob boss nico au after those pictures tonight 👀👀

#nico hischier #feminism leaving my body at the sight of nico in that tracksuit free #jack is def the mob boss wife tho

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takaraphoenix · 1 year

Note

Alabaster Torrington for the character ask post?

MY BOY. Oooh, I've been having a severe case of Missing Alabaster Torrington for like the past two weeks, how did you mindread that?

Thanks for playing and asking about him!

Favorite romantic ship(s): PERCY!!!, Ethan, Nico, preferably I'll take them in an OT4 too :D

Favorite platonic dynamic(s): also Ethan, but I actually made up this whole alt-reality dynamic for him and Bianca, I love the idea of those two becoming really good friends, plus also the obvious of Lou Ellen because I love her and I have that brother-sister dynamic made up in my head too and it means A Lot to me

LGBT+ headcanon(s): gay, so gay, definitely 100% gay. I see him as the "I do not understand heterosexuals they bewilder me" kind of gay

Job headcanon (in an AU/or future): Mh. Trying to remember if I ever had him have a job in a mortal AU beyond a "necessary cast" (like a fire fighter AU where they're, duh, fire fighters, or a mob boss AU where he's, duh, a member of the di Angelo Family). Generally, I like to lean into his magic nature and I'd love to see him actually have like a... magic shop? Selling crystals and giving tarot card readings and such

Animal shifter headcanon: Long-haired, dark-brown haired cat, potentially a Norwegian because these are my favorite kitties

Favorite canon thing about them: ...that he lived? I'm sorry that sounds lame, but also Riordan Senior famously killed off literally every single "traitor" or "bad guy" demigod who was a named character with story - Luke, Ethan, Silena, Octavian (Chris lived but I'm not entirely counting him since he 1. deserted early, 2. spent like months severely mentally fucked up which felt like "penance" or "punishment" for his choices on a meta level, like, he avoided actual social or even juridical consequences because "hasn't he suffered enough?" coupled with "dating a main character from the good side" which is generally seen as a 'gets out of jail free' card) - to avoid having consequences happen, so I'm deeply in love with the fact that Alabaster was on the rebel side but lived and we got to see what the consequences for the demigods who chose to rebel actually are in the now-time. I love this story. I think Haley Riordan should actually write more about Alabaster, first and foremost, but also generally in the Riordanverse? Like, I would love him to write about the Titan War but from the rebel side, even if it's just one standalone book. I would devour that

Least favorite canon thing about them: That he hasn't returned to me yet ;-; I am REALLY hoping the PJO tv show will feature him, because... obviously wasn't he in the PJO book series since he was created after the fact and not by Riordan Senior, but since he exists now, and since Riordan is involved in the show, I really hope that Alabaster will be featured among the rebels in the tv show. Since they definitely will need more than three and a half rebels? Literally just for visual reasons and if you cast em, give em names (so I am generally hoping for the creation of more rebel demigods due to the tv show but it'd be a real missed opportunity to not feature Alabaster in it)

Character Ask Game

#Alabaster C. Torrington #Alabaster Torrington #PJOverse #Character Ask Game #send me asks

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yonemurishiroku · 2 years

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Mafia Boss Nico headcanon bc it’s 0:41 A.M and I have a test tmr for which i do not want to study

Warning: mafia stuff, blood, violence, etc...

Actually Hades is still the boss, Nico is just the one who’s too good to be taken lightly.

Hades didn’t want him to join the business, yet after Maria’s and Bianca’s death, Nico joined to track down the perpetrator(s). He blamed Hades at first, Hades didn’t want his son to get involved, both resented themselves, all in all it was a rough path.

But they got over it and now while Hades is still the King of the Underworld, Nico has been taught more than enough and his reputation has spread as wide as it should to be a replacement with less than a problem.

He has no intention to do it, though. He just wants revenge for his mother and sister. Nico mainly focuses on his investigation (which gradually gains more support from Hades despite his unwillingness to let Nico join), only occasionally sets out to settle down some dispute in their territories.

So that’s why although the whole Underworld has known of a “Prince” (because i like it), not many has encoutered him.

The subordinates call him “Young master”. The outsiders refer to him as “Ghost” just because his existence is scarcely proven and he rarely reveals himself.

He eliminated Minos, one of Hades’s former direct subordinates, as a test from his Father to prove his younger self’s abilities. He also took in Minos’ exploited experstise: the network of criminals - in order to further his investigation.

Afterwards, his reputation spread wide and he gained Thanatos’ approval, which granted him easier access in the field of human trafficking and later personal information trade. Nico isn’t fond of the work itself, but he needs to keep an eye out for anything involving his deceased loved ones.

Thanks to his Father’s teachings, Nico can use pretty much every weapon. He prefers daggers and secret types, though, just because he doesn’t like the sounds of loud gunshot.

His kills leave next to no trace because of that.

Yes, he kills. And he’s good at that.

Yes, he has a mansion for himself.

Nico is aware of the existence of another sister - Hazel Lavesque, yet decided to stay away for the sake of her safety. Hazel is unaware.

Nico comes to every of her art exhibitions, tho.

He cut ties with Percy after Bianca’s murder, and when Percy found out about him being apart of the mafia, the detective has been trying to convince him to turn back. Yet, Nico kept on with his revenge.

Nico encountered Jason Grace - an elite as the police praised - a few times when he had to make an offical appearance to solve some inner problems and the investigator managed to catch up to their actions.

He tried to arrest him, of course. However, as a part of the mafia and one of its de facto rulers, Nico plays a huge role in keeping the criminals in check. Jason learnt of this fact after realizing that Nico was exterminating the city’s serial killers, who were opposed to him at that point. He merely accepted to temporarily cease his pursuit and remains cautious of Nico’s actions.

Will add more when i think of more

#nico di angelo #mafia nico #mafia boss nico #mob boss nico #hades (pjo)#mafia au #pjo #pjo au #hoo #toa #yone headcanon #yone rambling #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #nico headcanon

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mari-bellis · 4 years

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Gangsta AU where the Arcangelo family didn’t get bodied, Worick became a mob boss, and Nico became his right hand man.

#gangsta.#worick arcangelo #nicolas brown

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onceuponaloonatic · 4 years

Note

Mafia au: what would happen if someone In a meeting new about the children and threatens to harm them unless they get the deal they want?-🐼

beta’d by 🦄 anon

Mina Sana and Tzuyu knew when they had children that they needed to be protected. Their children’s lives could be put in danger if people knew they existed or knew too much about them, so they were always extra cautious with their children’s existence. They didn’t keep any family photos near their office and no one was allowed to talk about the kids there except Dahyun, Sana’s right hand woman and their main babysitter. Dahyun always complained that she was a high-level mob boss yet most of her job was babysitting. When the kids were born they weren’t born in a hospital. They had a personal doctor come and help Sana deliver them all. They had an agreement that if Sana had complications in labor they would go to the hospital, but they wanted to avoid it as hospital records were easy the trace. They ended up having to take Nico the hospital right after she was born, but that was because she was a premie and she needed proper medicinal care. But needless to say they kept their kids lives as secret as they possibly could.

But somehow it got out that the powerful leaders of the Myoui-Chou clan had five young vulnerable daughters.

“I’m sorry Mr. Kim, but we can’t take this deal.” Sana nodded, pushing the contract back towards the man.

“Really? What a shame, because I wanted to do this the easy way.” Mina and Tzuyu both meticulously put their hands on their guns inside their holsters. "I'm sure those kids of yours would have wanted me to do this the easy way.” They all froze at his statement.

“W-what do you know about them?” Tzuyu struggled to maintain her composure.

“Sai, Saya, Sae, Saki, and Nico. I can tell you guys like Sa names.” The man joked. “Sai is a fifth grader at Jotto Private Academy, Saya, Sae and Saki are first graders at the same school, and Nico is enrolled at Sunshine preschool. They are cute kids you guys should be proud.”

“What have you done to them?” Mina said with a warning tone, her hand over the cold metal of her gun.

“Nothing yet. But I think you will find this interesting.” The man pulled a tablet out and started a video, which they quickly recognized as a video of their kids. “Now, why don’t we revisit this deal of ours.”

“You are a monster.” Sana could barely hold her anger back. they were so careful, so incredibly careful.

“How did you even get this video?” Mina asked, her hand still over her gun.

“A little birdie sent it to me.”

"If you don’t tell us who sent it to you i will not hesitate to use you as target practice,” Tzuyu informed, taking her gun out of its holster and purposefully admiring it in front of the man.

“Alright fine! It was from a man who calls himself the red widow. He’s a hacker. That’s all I know.” he informed quickly. “Now about this deal-”

“How funny, you think you will get to leave after you just threatened our children.” Mina joked with her wives.

“I know, it’s hilarious.” Tzuyu giggled. “Satang would you like to do the honors?”

“I would love to.” Sana took Tzuyu’s gun and pointed it at the man. He shut his eyes and started mumbling things to himself. Sana smirked and shot right above the man's shoulder, firing a warning shot.

“If you even think of my children again, that’s going into your shoulder and not above it.” Sana informed. The man stood petrified, and Mina and Tzuyu used the opportunity to grab him.

“You say anything about them, you are dead.” Mina threatened as they moved him to their prison-like area.

“Y-yes ma’am!”

“If I ever see any of your men near my angels, I will cut your dick off.” Tzuyu threatened. “We in agreement?”

“Y-yes!”

“Good.” Mina pauses when they got to the cell, throwing him inside. “If you hurt them you will not live to see another day. We clear?”

“Crystal clear ma’am!”

#twice #misatzu #minatozaki sana #myoui mina #chou tzuyu #mafia au #🐼 anon

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snugglyducklingbrewhouse · 5 months

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we play with fire because we like the way it burns

a mob boss!Nico x nurse!fem!reader au

Movie night, ruined

Warnings: blood, Luke injured, mentions of guns and gunshot wounds, some swearing and calling someone a dumbass, this is a mob au. Please tell me if I missed something

A/n: it’s here! The first installment. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Word count: 1.2k

You were worried.

Luke Hughes was not known to be the most punctual, but he was never this late.

As far as you knew, this was his only plan for the night. So why hasn’t he called or texted?

It was just supposed to be a routine movie night. You, Luke, and a movie you’ve seen so many times. Tonight’s pick was Valentine’s Day since you saw New Year’s Eve around the new year, and it just made sense. To you two, anyway.

Luke was hours late. You were about to start getting ready for bed, tired of waiting on the couch. He could just apologize in the morning once you got sleep.

As you were collecting the snacks off the coffee table, there was a knock on your door.

Who was knocking on your door at this hour?

You quickly put the things in your hands back down so you could answer the door.

As Luke always insisted, you looked through the peephole. He hated that your building didn’t have a doorman, so he got you in the habit of checking the peephole.

You were not prepared to see Luke slung around the shoulders of Jack and another guy, barely able to stand up himself.

You swung the door open rapidly, ushering the three men to come inside before the neighbors started asking questions. God forbid Nancy saw anything and spread the news like wildfire.

Once you got a better look at the three, you realized Nico was the other man holding up Luke.

“What the fuck happened?!?” You practically shouted at them.

“Do you really want to know? Or do you just want to fix him?” Jack spoke up before his boss could say anything.

You rolled your eyes in a huff, but gestured to the couch. “Sit him up on the couch and make sure he doesn’t lose consciousness. Jack, get water from the kitchen. You, make sure Luke stays upright. He can’t fall asleep. Not yet.”

Jack had a nervous look on his face because you bossed around the most feared man in the city, but he rushed to get water despite not having gone that far into your apartment before.

“I’ll be right back,” you told Nico before rushing to get your primary first aid kit.

When you returned, you had to speak up and say the one thing you were dreading. “What happened and how did he get hurt?”

Nico was about to answer, but Jack spoke up from the kitchen instead. “Where the fuck are your cups and why are they this hard to find?”

Yet another eye roll from you. “Just grab a bottle from the fridge,” you yelled back.

“Dumbass,” you muttered under your breath. You loved Luke like a brother but that didn’t mean you felt the same way about his brother.

You turned back to Luke to assess the damage. Multiple cuts on his face and body. Luckily, no gunshots. You honestly weren’t sure you would be able to help if he had gotten shot.

Jack came back to the living room and set the bottle on the table and proceeded to stay out of your way while still looking out for his little brother. Their mother would kill him if she found out just how injured the baby Hughes was.

You grabbed the iodine and some cotton pads, mentally preparing to make your best friend endure more discomfort than he already was.

“Luke, I’m sorry that this is going to sting, but I need to clean your wounds,” you said gently.

Luke just grumbled, so you proceeded after telling Nico to make sure to hold Luke still.

“I’ll start with your arms and work my way to your face. Please don’t hate me for this,” you said gently, using your nurse voice reserved for telling people that something bad has happened.

Luke flinched a little once you started cleaning his wounds. It proceeded to get worse, and your patience also got progressively worse.

“Luke if you do not stop squirming, I swear to god I will duct tape you to a chair and tell your mother about your weekend in Atlantic City,” you said in a very angry tone, sick of Luke’s shit.

Nico looked slightly confused, while Luke and Jack both had looks of “oh shit” on their faces.

Jack proceeded to sit on Luke’s other side to make sure he stayed still.

“We do not need mom knowing about what happened,” Jack said as Luke nodded as best as he could.

You proceeded to finish disinfecting every wound on your best friend’s body and add antibiotic cream to each one, finishing the worse wounds with bandages and letting the smaller ones breathe.

“Luke, I’m gonna grab you one of your spare outfits for you to wear so you can sleep comfortably. Couch or guest room?” You asked him, honestly not knowing if he would make it to the guest room.

“Couch,” he mumbled.

You scurried off to grab some sweats and a shirt for Luke from his designated drawer in your room.

You tossed the clothes at Jack once you made it back to the living room, “make sure he gets into these. I’ll clean up.”

You proceeded to gather up the first said kit while Jack helped Luke change and Nico just sat, not knowing what to do.

“Do you need help cleaning up?” Nico finally spoke to you, and if you weren’t so concerned with Luke, you may have had more time to admire him.

“Uh. No. I think I’m good. I’ve dealt with worse messes,” you said, not stopping what you were doing.

You put all the supplies back and slipped into the kitchen to get yourself your own bottle of water, giving Jack time to get Luke dressed.

As you finally had a moment to breathe and think, you realized you wouldn’t be able to handle seeing Luke hurt and not do anything about it.

After some time passed, Jack called out that Luke was successfully changed.

Walking back to the living room, you spoke up. “Call me immediately the next time he or someone else gets injured. I’ve seen enough questionable injuries at the hospital to know that I am your best option to avoid police questioning. Jack, you have my number. And please, for the love of all that is holy, stop doing dumb shit.”

You barely gave Jack time to respond before you spoke up again. “Now leave so Luke can rest. I’ll give you an update in the morning.”

Nico and Jack got up from their spots on your couch and proceeded to leave, you locking the door behind him.

You turned back to Luke and were worried about how the night was going to go.

“Can I have my blanket?” He asked weakly.

“Of course,” you said as you moved to grab it from its spot in your blanket basket.

You helped Luke lay down and get comfortable with the blanket tucked around him.

“Yell for me if you need anything, my door will be open,” you said before getting up to go back to your room. “Goodnight, Luke.”

“Goodnight, y/n,” Luke said with his eyes already closed.

You got ready for bed and were finally able to lay down and relax.

So why couldn’t you stop thinking about Nico?

#m writes #mob boss Nico au #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier au #nico hischier x reader

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mikkomacko · 2 months

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Him and I - Broad Street Bullies

Mob Boss Nico Hischier x female reader

Warnings: kidnapping, cussing, blood, weapons, general violence and threats

A/n: She's finally here!! This is a blurb from the beginning months of Mob Boss Nico and reader's relationship. It is extremely long but I tried to keep it as short as possible without cutting out any pivotal moments or details. Also disclaimer, I have nothing against the Flyers and they're simply a plot tool in this.

Thanks for reading!

______________________________________________________________

The streets of Manhattan are busy, even with the chilly fall weather. The line outside of Lady Liberty stretches around the block, all the rich and famous of New York trying to get in.

Nico doesn’t care. He pushes through the groups of people, feels the weight of the gun in his waistband as he shoulders his way to the front of the line. Igor is bouncer tonight, long hair tucked back under a beanie and he’s smiling and laughing with the group of blonde influencers at the front of the line when Nico gets there.

The smile quickly falls when Nico splits through the group, grabbing Igor by the collar or his long sleeve. Someone gasps behind him, a few people shout at him but it falls on deaf ears.

“I’m here to see Trouba,” he grits out, “now!”

Eyes wide, Igor lifts his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Give us a sec would ya?”

Nico lets him go, clenching and unclenching his jaw as Igor calls over Rempe and mutters instructions in the rookies ear. A hand slides up Nico's bicep, fingers tapping at the clenched muscle.

"Hey handsome," a drunken voice purrs. Nico's ears go hot, anger flushing through his body and he shakes the girls hand off, glaring over his shoulder at the honey blonde making eyes at him. Even in her drunken state she flinches away, the rest of her group yanking her a couple steps back.

When he turns back forward, Rempe is already watching him and the stupid kid has the audacity to smirk and wink at him as he heads to the bar.

That’s all it takes for Nico to lurch forward, yanking the security rope down and storming towards the door.

“Whoa, whoa, Hischier!” Igor cuts him off, shoving at his chest to push him back. Rempe disappears inside, Nico struggling to follow after him. "Give him a sec, Jesus fuck," Igor mutters, giving Nico one final shove back.

He's angry, but he's not stupid so he doesn't retaliate, instead paces back in forth in the area between Igor and the dismantled security rope. Finally, Igor lifts a finger up to his ear piece, eyes squinting as he listens. Then he's nodding to the doorway and Nico pushes around him into the humid and packed bar.

Jacob Trouba is sitting at a large booth in the upper level, the brown leather of the seat cracked and sticky when Nico slips in across from him. Mika and Bread eye Nico, standing guard by their boss but with a wave of Trouba's hand they disperse.

"When you asked to visit a bar on this side tonight, I didn't think you meant mine." The Rag jokes, a crooked smirk on his face. Elbows thudding on the table, Nico leans into closer to him.

"My men were attacked tonight," he spits "at your bar, on your side of the Hudson. And I want everyone who was taken back right now or you'll be cleaning up a big mess here tonight."

Red and blue party lights pulse around the bar, the crappy lighting obscuring some of Trouba's features. But it does nothing to hide the way his eyebrows pinch in confusion.

"My men have been here all night Hischier," Trouba says earnestly, and Nico feels his heart sink to his stomach, the anxious knots in his belly squeezing it tighter and tighter.

He hadn't even let himself think it might be possible that the Rags don't have you. There was no reason to entertain the idea because the universe wouldn't do that to him. There's no way you're that far from him, that lost. It can't be true because if it is, this just got a lot more complicated.

Trouba is looking at him curiously, head tilted to the side like he's examining him. Nico ignores the inquisitive eyes, pulls his phone out of his leather jacket and texts Timo.

Start pulling up camera feeds around our hot spots, familiar faces but not NY ones

"Who is she?"

This isn't what he's here for. Not to tell Trouba about you, to reveal to his biggest rivals that he's got a vulnerable spot for them to exploit. But when he meets Trouba's gaze, it doesn't matter. He's already given it away.

"Important to me."

Trouba smacks the table so hard his scotch rattles, a deep laugh bellowing out of him. "Aren't they all? Or have you just gone soft?"

"No," he spits out, jaw clenching and unclenching "which is why I need you to start talking or I'm outta here and my boys are coming in."

Amusement twinkling in his eyes, Trouba sips his drink. "This is clearly new for you Hischier, so I'm gonna help you out. Lee and Barzal spotted Farabee and Couturier around the Upper West Side earlier today,

"My guess is that they've got your girl."

His ears ring, like someone just shot a gun right by his eardrum. It echoes in his head, beats against his temple. This is the worst thing he could've been told, absolute worst case scenario. That would mean you're not tucked away somewhere in this bar or just down the street, but that you're halfway to fucking Philadelphia with the biggest jackasses Nico's ever encountered.

"You're lying." He denies, standing up from the booth and crowding over Trouba. "Giroux doesn't know about her."

The Rag leader scoffs, mockingly pouting at Nico. "You have lost it, Hischier. What is that girl doing to you that you're not using your fucking brain anymore?"

"Don't fucking talk about her!" He's seething, pinning Trouba into the back of the booth by his shoulders until the man is wincing.

"Alright alright, calm down! I'll tell you what I know if you just fucking sit down!"

He has to pry his hands off Trouba, chest heaving as he slumps back into the booth and glares at the man across from him. Luckily, Trouba is just as fed up with this little meeting as he is and he starts explaining right away.

"You've been different the past like year," he starts "we saw less and less of you, more of the boys. And yet your operations were going smoother than ever, deals were coming in easy, it all worked.

"And then you were back for about a month, and worse than ever I'll tell you that. Fucking everywhere I looked, you and Devs were there, you were ruthless and angry.

"And then it all went away again."

Nico doesn't get what he's saying, the point of it all. None of it has anything to do with you other than the fact that he met you almost a year ago.

Sighing, Trouba rakes a hand through his hair. "Look, it's obvious that you were with someone. Less hands-on time with the job for more hands-on time with her. It's what happens when we finally decide to try and have it all, because you can't. It's the business or the girl, you can't protect both."

Nico huffs. "Maybe you can't but we're-"

"Different, yeah I know." Trouba interrupts, lips smiling knowingly. "My girl and I were different too. Until we weren't. Because she made it better, all of it. The Rags run so well today because of her. And you can't hide what having that partner does for you and the business.

"That's how Giroux knew. He's been there too."

Sinking further into the seat, Nico lets it fully hit him. Trouba is right. That long streak of deals and success were because he had you, because he was happy with you and was trying to make it all work. He couldn't separate you from his work and it showed, even when he did everything to hide you.

You're the soft spot of the Devs.

Even tonight. He missed the Flyers roaming around the city because he was too busy letting all his patrollers follow you. He was so paranoid about a night out in the city that he put all his resources into protecting you, and instead it just revealed his greatest weakness. He doesn't know how to do this with you.

"I gave her up," Nico mutters, "I brought too many men over and it showed them that it was her."

For what it's worth, Trouba does look sorry when Nico meets his gaze. Nico imagines he's reliving it, how terrifying it was for him to fall in love too.

"Yeah," Trouba says softly, throwing back the rest of his drink. He drops the glass back onto the table. "They're our best and our worst, our strength and our weakness.

"And they always will be, so you gotta let her in Hischier. Once she's yours, even for a second, that's it. Every squad in the area will know, so you better make sure she's ready for it."

That's the thing. Nico isn't sure you're ready for it. God knows he hasn't done jack shit to make sure you are, not like this.

He feels like he's moving on autopilot when he gets up, throwing a half-assed thanks to Trouba and stumbling out of the bar. He recognizes Igor as he leaves, but the faces and bodies are blurry, just obstacles between you and him right now.

Nico doesn't know what he's doing, how he's going to fix this. All he knows is that the longer it takes him to think, to act, the further you get from him. And the more danger you're put in.

Timo is waiting outside the Range Rover when Nico rounds the block, practically running towards the gathered group of vehicles. Jack and Haula are hanging out of Erik's truck, ready to move at a moments notice. Jesper's SUV hums, him and Jonas leaning against the light up headlights. He can see the silhouette of their guns in hand. Mercer is with them too, and for the first time in his life he doesn't have that goofy grin on his face.

He looks like he might throw up. In fact, almost all of them do.

Nico imagines he must look the same.

"We gotta go," he rushes out when he's in earshot. "Giroux has her, we gotta get to her before he gets her into Fargo."

Like a gun at a starting line, the boys shoot into action. They're clambering back into the vehicles, engines roaring to life. Nico climbs into the passenger seat, flicks on the radar gun and map for Timo who's already pulled away from the curb.

Grabbing the radio off the dash, Timo brings it up to his lips. "They've got an hour on us boys," he informs the following vehicles, "let make it up."

Static beeps of confirmation come in, a shaken but determined "copy that." from Jack. Timo steps on the gas harder, and Nico tries to piece together a plan in his head. No matter how fast Timo drives, they won't catch her before the Flyers make it back to Broad street.

Yanking out his phone, Nico brings up the contact of the one man that he knows can help. Rumor has it that the Flyers were causing trouble in Pennsylvania lately, and the Pengs pushed in on the boundaries to keep them from heading West.

Praying it's true, he hits dial and brings the phone up to his ear. It rings, and rings, and rings, and then it clicks.

"Sid, I need a favor."

~~~~

The air smells of garbage and popcorn, so thick it cuts through the fabric of the hood over your head. It's an odd and disgusting combination, and it makes your heart thump even quicker in your chest. You have no idea what place could be responsible for such a smell, no idea at all of where you could possibly be.

All you know is that you were in car for a long time, long enough that you're almost certain you're not in New York or Jersey. Time is hard to tell when your head is in a bag though.

And that's even worse. The more confused and discombobulated you become, the harder it'll be to survive.

A loud, metal clanking sounds behind you, like rusty gears of an industrial door closing. Sure enough you here it bang shut, and immediately the air grows thick and hot without the fall breeze blowing in.

"Move it!"

You flinch at the demand, flailing forward when two hands roughly shove you. Blindly, you stumble forward until the men take ahold of your arms, pining them behind your back and marching you forward.

Panicking and unsure of what to do, you think of every self-defense tip you've ever seen online, on posters around school, from friends.

"Hello!" You shout, and relax all your weight into the ground. "Help! I don't know these men! I need help!"

Your knees scrape the ground, feet dragging and shoulders stretching painfully as the men struggle to hold your weight up. Someone kicks at your foot, screams for you to shut up but you keep yelling.

"I'm in danger and I need help!"

The words echo, bouncing off the walls of wherever you may be and you feel your throat close up in panic. It's silent, there's no one here to hear you.

"I said shut the fuck up!" The hood is yanked off your head. You blink, shake your head and frantically look around for any sign of help. It doesn't matter.

Your surrounded by cement walls, long tunnels of a dark and empty warehouse. Pallets and boxes line the walls, industrial freezers and coolers tucked into the sturdy walls.

"No," you mutter, tears blurring your vision. "No. no. no-"

A hand clamps over your mouth, squeezing your jaw tightly. You still can't see who it belongs to, but their grip is so rough it makes the tears in your eyes bubble down you cheeks.

"Walk!"

Helpless, the men drag you down the long hall, away from whatever door led to the outside world. Rounding a corner into a smaller opening, you wiggle and try to kick free when you see the enclosed cage against the backwall. It's surrounded by boxes and trash, abandoned warehouse equipment tipped over against the chain link. But the door in the front is wide open, taunting as you get pushed closer and closer.

Now within reach of the cage, you quickly spring to your feet and press your toes into the bars of the door. Trying to fight back, you push back into the men, locking your knees and bracing yourself against the opening.

"For fuck's sake," one of them cusses behind you, pushing your wrist up towards your shoulders. You cry out, the sound muffled by the hand over your lips and crumple to the ground in pain. In a last ditch effort you yank your head back, the hand sliding down to your chin and you clamp your teeth down on the man's palm, biting until you taste blood.

"Oh you bitch," he screams, pulling his hand from your mouth and stepping away. The sudden action makes them both release you, and you spit the coppery-blood taste from your mouth. Spinning around in hopes to get up and run, your stopped when stars suddenly flash in you vision, everything going dark for a split second as pain shoots across the right side of your face.

The hit knocks you onto your side, startles you so much that your being picked up and thrown onto all fours into the cage so quickly you'd think you were on fire or something. Which you might be because heat springs up in your left wrist, burns and sizzles up your arm and you instinctively move to get the weight off of it.

Not that it matters, because a new slice of pain bites at your thigh, far worse than the sting on your cheek and in your arm. You cry out, jumping up and backwards onto you behind. The closed door of the cage digs into your back, the footsteps of the men fading as they leave you there.

You don't even get a chance to turn and see what they look like. Because a large shard of glass has stabbed into your left thigh, the jagged end sticking out of your ripped jeans. Blood soaks into fabric, wet and sticky against your skin. Fingers shaking and numb, you touch the large piece of glass and hiss when it knicks your fingertip. You're not sure what's worse, the blood or the fact that you have no idea what to do.

Or any idea where you are.

~~~~

Music plays throughout the office, the bluetooth speaker in the corner swapping colors with the beat of the song. Johnny's not sure what song this is, but the artist is definitely British and can definitely play a fucking guitar well.

He bops his head along with it, gnawing at his bottom lip as he looks through expense books. Tanger is pretty good at keeping them up to date, but with the group not fully in Pittsburgh right now, Sid thought it would be best to have a second set of eyes look over them.

Taking a swig of his Red Bull, Johnny blinks to refocus on the ledger when the music cuts out abruptly. His phone vibrates on the desk and the speaker announces "Incoming call from Sid."

It's really late for Sid to be calling, especially when he knows Johnny is here at work so the boy swipes up his phone and accepts the call.

"Marino," he answers, leaning back in the desk chair and nibbling on his thumb nail.

"It's Sidney," his boss answers and Johnny rolls his eyes because obviously he knows that. Sid is still old school though and forgets the world can see his contact just fine.

"What's going on boss?"

"Got a quick job for you," Sid replies, the sound of an engine turning over in the background. "I got your gear in the car and I'm coming to get you so be ready."

Johnny gets up, holds the phone between his ear and shoulder as he begins to clean up. "What's the job?"

"I'll explain more on the way, but it looks like the Flyers found their way up to New York and started some trouble."

"With the Rags?"

"Nah the Devs," Sid corrects, sounding amused. "Hischier's got himself a girl that likes to go out in New York apparently. Claude jumped at the first chance to get her."

Locking the books away in the safe and shutting off the speaker, Johnny flicks the lights down and grabs his keys. "A girl? With Hischier?"

He locks the office door, making his way down the old creaky steps.

"He may be untouchable as a boss but at the end of the day he's still just a man. And the right girl will turn any man stupid."

Johnny shakes his head, praying to god that's not him one day. This must be some girl though, if she's got Nico dragging the Devs all the way to Broad Street. Wonder what's so great about her.

~~~~

Digging your teeth into the back of your hand, you yank the shard of glass out of your leg and bite down. Electric shocks of pain zip down your thigh, your toes feeling numb as you curl into yourself and cry.

Hot tears roll down your cheek, the saltiness making the right side of your face ache and you guess that whoever had hit you earlier had broken skin.

Grabbing the jacket you peeled off earlier, you press the fabric into the wound and wrap the sleeves around your thigh, tying it off as tightly as you can. The knots digs into the tender flesh, sends another wave of tears down your cheeks and you sniffle, wiping your blood stained hands off on your shirt before wiping at your cheeks.

Gentle and curious, you prod at the right side of your face. It's sore and swollen, and sure enough you can feel a freshly opened wound right on your cheekbone. Your fingers shake as you push up the sleeve of your shirt, stretching the fabric up to pat at the wound. Little flakes of dried blood stick to the sleeve, and you sigh in relief, at least a little bit of it. It's not bleeding too much so that's something.

Still propped up against the door, you finally take a look around the area. Two rows of metal shelves rise to the top of the cage on either side of you, bottles of every kind of liquor in the world stacked on them. Which would explain the broken glass on the floor.

Sure enough when you look down by your feet the orange lid of a Tito's bottle lay there, surrounded by shards of the glass. With your good foot you push the glass away as best as you can, careful to not cut yourself anymore.

When your fairly sure it's safe, you press your weight into your good foot and wrist, climbing up from the floor. You have to hold onto the cage to keep yourself up, your injured leg trembling in protest when you begin to put weight on it.

Ignoring the painful throbbing, you slowly look around the area. More freezer doors line the walls, the giant silver handles stamped with signs that say "Cooler 1" and so on. You shiver, not even wanting to imagine what these men store in there, if it's something that actually belongs in a freezer or not.

Nausea stirs your stomach, mouth watering as the taste of bile builds up in your throat and you squeeze your thumbs in your fists, wincing when your wrist painfully aches.

The pain is a good distraction from the nausea though, and it gives you time to choke in and out deep breathes. Looking around the area, you take in more details of the place.

Championships signs on the walls, old broken hockey sticks scattered in pieces around the room, an abandoned Zamboni in the opposite corner.

It's an arena.

And you were correct about it not being in Jersey or New York. Because a large crate by the Zamboni is stamped with a location in big, black letters.

3601 S BROAD ST, PHILADELPHIA, PA

You've never been to Pennsylvania, don't even know how far from Jersey it is. Which is stupid because you know geography and should be able to recall how close the states are to each other but you can't get the photo memory of the map to focus in your brain.

All that keeps flashing in your head is that you're in another state, bleeding and hurt, surrounded by freezers large enough to hide a body (or 12).

Nico's not coming, you realize. Why would he? How could he? He has no idea where you are. Maybe he'll sniff around New York but for how long? How long until he gives up on it, on you?

It's not like you’re a Devil, not anyone big like Timo or Jonas. You're not in the family, so why would it matter if you disappeared from it?

Bone crippling fears claws up your throat, chokes you and you slump back onto the concrete ground. Gasping, you rapidly blink against your blurring vision and try to focus.

You need to find a way out of here.

~~~~

The interstate passes by far too slow for Nico's liking. He feels like he could get out and run faster, and it makes him uneasy. That stupid gut-wrenching, heart pounding, nausea inducing uneasy, and he can't stop himself from peaking over at the dash.

102 MPH

Groaning, Nico throws his head back against the headrest, brings his hands up to his hair and painfully tugs at it before he explodes. It doesn't really help but the pain is a little distracting.

"I swear I'm going as fast as I can." Timo defends but that just pisses Nico off even more because he knows that, he knows this isn't Timo's fault but saying that just makes him realize even more that it's his fault.

"We're not gonna make it in time at this pace."

"In time for what?" Timo scoffs, "It took us too long to track her down, they've already got her inside Nico. There's no intercepting her."

His fault, his fault, his fucking fault. That's all Nico hears as Timo goes on and on about how the Flyers and how they finally managed to do some damage to a rival. The words bubble in his veins, his skin growing hot and bones jittery. He feels like he's choking, gagging on the guilt in his chest and he explodes.

"I know! I fucking know Timo! I fucked up, I let her go into the city tonight and I'm the fucking idiot that brought all our men with!"

The silence in the car seems to ring in his ears, so unbearable that he just keeps blabbering.

"I should've told her no, I should've been a fucking man and just dealt with the puppy dog eyes or the cold shoulder or whatever bratty treatment she would've given me because at least she'd still be here!

"Or I could've gotten her a better spot in the bar, made her stay in the back by an exit or next to the wall but no she wanted to be close and I couldn't disappoint her..."

Nico feels manic, like he's sliding down an icy hill and kicking his feet trying to stop but he can't. And he's just falling and rolling on the ice, the cold, hard surface smacking him in the face.

"And I brought every fucking available man with us, and I didn't even put them to good use! They should've been patrolling, watching the bar but I let everyone just hang out because she wanted to, she wanted everyone to have fun!

"Some fucking fun we're having now Jesus fuck!"

Chest heaving and throat burning, Nico runs his hands down his face and realizes his cheeks are wet. He's not sure if the few tears that trailed down his face are from sadness, anger, or fear but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that he royally fucked up again and has lost you worse than he had before.

"Are you done?"

Nico clears his throat, feeling pathetic as exhaustion settles in the little space left in his body for even more emotions. He nods, watches the yellow line on the highway fly by his windows.

"I know you probably don't want to hear this from me because I know you don't wanna hear it at all, but just listen for a sec, ok?"

Timo waits for him to nod before continuing.

"This is not your fault Nico," the words sound earnest but they hit hollow to Nico. Of course this is his fault. Who else's could it be?

"Yeah we should've been better prepared for an emergency like this, and I mean we, not just you. But this has never happened before. None of the other girls have ever been messed with, because they're not yours. And like it or not, that's what really matters. Is that she's yours Nico."

He hears what Timo is saying, tries to shove it into his brain so he'll understand. Mine, he says over and over in his head, she's mine. All it does it remind him that the blame is also his.

"You love her, you wanted to do something nice for her after the past few months she's had. And that was the right thing to do for her, but we weren't ready for this, for her. And accidents happen Nico, you can't beat yourself up over it like this."

Nico inhales, takes a moment to hear his best friend. Timo is right. You, the whole situation tonight, it's all different. He's never had to deal with something like this. Still, he was raised in a mob family, he knows what it means to bring a partner into this life.

"I should've been ready," he argues, but it feels weak. Defeated, he feels defeated. "It's my job to be ready Timo and I didn't do it, and who knows how she'll pay for it."

"You can't pick when to fall in love, man. Just like you can't pick who you fall in love with, and how it'll happen, and how it will go. So you can't really be all that ready for it either.

"The fucked up thing with our lifestyle is that tiny detail of unpredictability usually gets someone hurt."

Again, he knows deep down that Timo is right. His friend has become wise beyond his years in the time since they started the Devils. It's what's made him such a good #2, a good person to work with. That and the fact that Nico has never had to shy away from his feelings and thoughts with Timo. Not like he does with the others. With Timo, he doesn't always have to be strong.

"It' scary," Nico mumbles, "Every day of my life since I've met her I've been scared. Scared to lose her, to hurt her, to ruin her life, to have her in my life. But it's even worse to not have her in it."

Fingers find his shoulder, hold onto his hoodie tightly and squeeze reassuringly. Nico looks over across the center counsel and meets Timo's quick glance. Even in the small fraction of time before he refocused on the road, Nico could see the certainty in Timo's eyes.

"It's worth it though, isn't it?"

Nico nods, licks at his dry lips and chokes out a painful chuckle. "Yeah, it's worth it. Of course she's fucking worth it."

Timo laughs with him, puts both hands back on the steering wheel and checks the police radar scanner before pressing down a little harder on the gas. The engine roars in protests, hesitating for a moment before pushing forward.

"I can't lose her Timo. I don't think I could ever get over her."

"You won't have to Nico, we're gonna get her."

Nico checks the GPS on the screen. Halfway there.

~~~~

Sid parks the car two blocks away from Fargo. Him and Jarry open up the back hatch, Jarry immediately pulling out equipment for Johnny to take in with him.

"Simple task John," Sid starts, taking a firm hold of Johnny's shoulder with his left hand to make sure the boy is actually listening. He is, but Johnny has one of those faces that always looks clueless.

"My guess is Giroux has got her somewhere in the warehouse. He wouldn't want her near the offices or shop talk..." If she's new to Hischier, she's new to it all. No sense in letting her hear anything that could help her out. "You just gotta get in, find her, and report back to us on how she's doing. Hide somewhere and keep her company until Hischier or his boys get in there for her."

Jarry shoves a mic pack in Johnny's jean pocket, handing him the wireless cuff to put in his ear. He rolls the little bud in his fingers, waiting for the signal to test it.

"Under no circumstance do you engage with the Flyers, ya hear me?" Sid shakes him a bit, brown eyes serious and commanding. Johnny nods.

"Unless they're gonna kill you or her, you're just surveillance. Keep her alive long enough for the Devs."

"Yes sir," he confirms, and Sid ruffles his hair, grins proudly.

"Atta boy, now test out that mic for us."

Johnny puts the earpiece in, hears the static burst of it connecting to Jarry's equipment. He tests it out, listens to his own voice echo back to him through Jarry's speaker. Once they're certain it works, he grabs brass knuckles and a knife, tucks them into his pockets.

"Ready?" Sid asks, and Johnny quickly agrees. "Report back to us how you find her, I gotta let Hischier know how to get to her the quickest."

"Yeah, no problem Sid." He confirms, the toe of his boot crunching as he turns to start walking towards Fargo. He only makes it a couple feet before stopping and turning back around.

"She means that much to him?"

It's unspoken who him is. They all know Hischier is the topic of the night. More specifically his sudden loyalty to this girl, sudden interest in a relationship.

Sid shares a look with Jarry, one Johnny can't really read from where he's at but he feels the weight of the words just as heavily.

"She's everything to him Marino."

~~~~

Your fingers ache, wrist throbbing painfully as you maneuver try to jam the sliver of metal further into the padlock. You’re not even sure where the thing came from but after scrounging around on the shelves you found it and figured might as well try.

It’s difficult to hold the padlock, your wrists having to twist it at an odd angle to reach the key hole on the bottom. You don’t even know how to pick a lock but something’s gotta give right?

Cursing when the lock doesn’t budge, you violently jiggle it and hope that something gets knocked loose or falls into place. You yank on it, metal clattering loudly in the abandoned warehouse before dropping it. Petulant and annoyed, you tenderly rub your rapidly swelling and bruised wrist, glaring at the lock.

The shuffle of a shoes scraping on the dirty floor of the warehouse makes you freeze, body stiffening and sense going on high-alert. You look around the large room, a cold chill trickling down your spine as you wait for any sign of the men from before.

But no one comes through the open door, not even a mouse. Yet you can hear movement from somewhere, little scuffles like they’re sneaking around.

“That things too dull to pick the lock.”

You whip around, gasping in surprise at the head of curly hair and brown eyes peeking out from behind stacks of crates and boxes.

“W-what?” You stumble, unsure of what to even say. You don’t know who this boy is or how long he’s been here. Is he with them? Or did they take him too?

“You can’t pick the lock with that,” he says again, pointing to the hunk of metal you had previously been holding. “It needs to be thinner at the top.”

You look down at it, kick it away with your shoe and take a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart.

“Oh,” you mumble, dumbly. “Ok. Who are you?”

The boy looks around the room, checking for anyone else. When he’s sure it’s just you, he rises to his feet and perches on top of one.

“John,” he introduces. “Marino. M’here to make sure you’re ok and not like gonna die or anything.”

And well that tells you nothing. Not about who he is, who sent him, why he’s in charge of checking up on you. For all you know the men that took you sent him here to make sure you don’t bleed out.

However, he did seem to be sneaking around. Like he shouldn’t be here. Or he could just want you to think that, think that he’s actually helping you so you let your guard down.

John looks confused when you don’t say anything. He taps at his ear, purses his lips together and starts gently swinging his foot.

“Nico sent me,” he adds and just the name of your boyfriend has you trembling. Instinctively you stumble forward, pushing yourself to the far end of the cage. It’s pathetic, the way you half drag your injured leg behind you and crash into the chain link.

“Nico sent you? You know Nico?” You beg, desperate to know anything at all. Desperate to see him, to know that you’ll see him again.

Your fingers cling onto the fence, squeezing painfully and your wrist throbs so hard you think you’d be able to see it beating if you looked down. But you can’t look away from John, not until you know for sure that he knows Nico.

“Yeah I do,” he confirms, skeptically.

Frowning, you pull back just the slightest bit. “If you really know him,” you murmur “then tell me something about him?”

John bawks, looks you up and down like you’re crazy before his eyes narrow challengingly. He hums, taps at his chin like he’s thinking really hard.

“I think you’re lying Johnny boy.” You taunt, narrowing your own eyes at him.

“Fine,” he grunts “I know that Nico has a tattoo of a triangle on his ankle that he never shows anyone and no one knows what it means.”

You’re shocked by his answer, leaning back and loosening your hold on the fence. Nico does have a tattoo like that on his ankle and no one who’s just passed him in the street or heard of his reputation would know that. It’s always hidden by his clothes, a secret mark of his and he’s yet to tell you its importance. Even Timo told you he doesn’t know.

John takes your silence as victory, smirking proudly and tauntingly pointing at you. “Did you know about the tattoo sweetheart?”

“Of course I did,” you scoff “I know every little mark on that man’s body, thank you very much.”

Facing scrunching in disgust, he groans quietly, leaning back on the crate as if he’s trying to physically get away from you. “Ok didn’t need to know that.”

“Sorry,” you say quietly, and then the room is silent again. Nervous, unsure of what’s happening or what you’re supposed to do you gnaw at your bottom lip.

“It’s ok,” he says gently when you don’t continue. For the second time that night John looks you up and down, slower this time as he takes in the details of your face and clothes, eyes lingering on your wrist that’s now turned a dark shade of purple.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, “like really hurt?”

Teeth sinking painfully into your lip to keep it from wobbling, you inhale shakily and nod. Up until now it felt like you couldn’t admit how much your body hurt, how every muscle feels sore and bruised. Your leg feels useless and cold, and just the air on your wrist makes you want to curl into a ball to shield it.

“My leg is bleeding,” you choke out, hands shaking as you let go of the fence and reach for the jacket you’d tied around it. “A lot, I don’t know what to do about it.”

John is silent as you untie the knot with trembling fingers, unwrapping the jacket and revealing the rip in your jeans, the dark red and still gushing blood slit only your thigh.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, jumping up from his seat like he’s just been electrocuted. “Ok, quick wrap that back on there.” He instructs you and you immediately do as you're told, tears slipping down your cheeks as you try not to cry out in pain. It hurts even more the second time around.

John holds his finger up to his ear. “Sid we gotta get a sewing kit or something in here, she’s gonna bleed out on the concrete.”

Your head snaps up to look at him. "Who's Sid?"

"My boss," he responds, looking away as he listens to whoever is in his ear. Sid, you guess. "Hold up, yeah that'll work. Get it to the Southwest vent, last one on the right. I marked it with my knife."

Now addressing you, John crowds up close to the cage, his own fingers gripping the chain link. "I'll be right back ok, just sit down or something and don't move, capisce?"

Alarm bells go off in your head, your hands reaching out and locking over his in panic. "N-no don't leave, please don't leave Johnny."

"Hey, hey, hey..." he murmurs, ducking his head down to be eye-level with you. His gaze is reassuring, strong and certain in a way you've only ever seen from Nico. It makes you stop, heart jumping into your throat. God you wish Nico was here. "It's gonna be ok, I just need a moment to run and get something to fix that leg of yours, ok?"

He waits for a signal that you're hearing him before continuing. "I'm gonna be right back, I promise. You'll be ok, you're tough, I can tell. No girl of Nico's wouldn't be, huh?"

"Yeah," you mumble, the words sounding muffled in your ears.

"Ok good," John nods, rising up to his full height. "When I come back you're gonna sit your cute butt right there and tell me all about it, ok? I gotta hear how Hischier hooked you."

Nervously, you laugh and agree but you're not really sure what you're laughing at. You just know he was smiling at you like he made a joke and that was all you could do.

Watching John disappear in the back corner, you slump back to the ground and squeeze your eyes shut, counting your breaths until he gets back.

~~~~

The phone line rings, trilling through the speaker. Giroux sits with his feet propped up on the desk by it, dirty black boots lulling back and forth with each ring.

He answers moments later.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Now, that's not a very nice way to answer the phone." Giroux tsks, lips curling in amusement when Farabee shakes his head across the room. "Is this how you always handle business?"

"I have no business with you Claude," Nico snarks back, the static of the phone giving him more of a growl than he usually has.

"Hmm then what would you call the pretty little bird I've got here?"

"Off-limits," he spits, "touch one hair on her head and you'll be fucking sorry."

Giroux laughs, a loud obnoxious belly laugh that has Couturier and Farabee snickering alongside him. "Oh I don't think I will Hischier," he sighs happily. "But I can offer you her back, in mostly good condition, just as long as you hand over the contract for the deal with Met."

The line goes silent for a moment, so quiet that Giroux sits up and drops his boots back to the floor just to make sure the call is in fact still going.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Nico finally responds, and his tone sounds like it's dropped a few octaves, heavy with rage.

"You heard me, hand over the deal?"

A sarcastic laugh barks through the phone, harsh and unforgiving. "You even dumber than I thought you were," he goads, "there's no fucking contract you idiot. Unlike your gang of fuck ups, I actually know how to do business."

The two men are watching Giroux, confusion etched all over their faces. His face flushes with embarrassment and anger, hating being talked to like this in front of his men.

"Watch your tone Hischier or that girl of yours will hear for it."

"Like I said, touch her and I'll make you regret it," Nico spits, the venom of his words practically dripping through the phone and all over the desk. It makes Giroux rise, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

"Let me tell you about how we do things in Jersey, Claude. We're respectable gentlemen, we hold open doors and we help carry grocery bags, and we shake hands with our acquaintances. Acquaintances that we do business with, and that personal touch is a helluva lot stronger than a fucking piece of paper."

Dread creeps down Giroux's spine. There was never a deal, not one that can be breached. Nico and the Devils had a Jersey contract with MetLife, and even if they stole deal right out from under the Flyers, local gang sealings always win out over paper contracts.

Giroux has just never bothered to have one, never needed one. The Philly deals have always been minor. But he knows the unwritten law of the gangs, knows what not to breach. His mistake was believing Hischier had done this on the books.

"On the other hand," Nico continues, cutting off his spiral. "we protect what's ours. And you've taken something of mine that was not up for grabs, you've taken one of ours. I don't know how you run shit down there, Claude, but up here in Jersey, we don't play games with the women that feed us, clean up our wounds, keep the family together ya know?

"That's just bad manners. And we answer bad manners, with bad manners of our own. Things like showing up uninvited, or I don't know even burning all of Broad Street to the fucking ground. And don't think I'm joking Claude, there's a reason we're called the Devils, after all.

"We're not afraid to fight with fire. And we will raise hell."

Claude smacks his hand over the phone, hitting mute before looking up at his men. "Find somewhere to move her, now!" He demands frantically waving them around the room. "Hischier can't find her here, we need another safe house or drop her on the fucking street, I don't care. And call in back up!”

Farabee and Couturier spring into action, moving around the room like headless chickens. Nico barks his name through the phone and Giroux unmutes it, clearing his throat and putting forward his best amused voice.

“You do that Hischier,” he encourages, “Drop out of the deal or the only place you’ll see your girl again is in hell.”

~~~~

You’re still counting your breaths when his boots scuffle on the floor again, eyes snapping open to find him crouched by the cage. John is holding a little black box in his hand, fingers trembling slightly as he grips onto the fence.

"You still with me?"

"Yeah," you nod, swallowing thickly and sitting up straighter. "What do I do?"

John motions to the shelf behind your back. "First, I need ya to get that bottle of Everclear."

Doing as told, you force yourself to collect the bottle of alcohol for him, sitting back in your original spot with your wounded leg straightened out in front of you.

He keeps going through instructions, almost methodically as he tells you to take a quick swig of the drink, for nerves of course. Choking back the drink, you untie the jacket from your leg once again and lay it off to the side, looking at the boy next to you expectantly.

"Now here's the hard part," he winces, "you gotta sterilize the wound as much as possible."

"What?"

Sighing, he jabs a finger at the bottle of Everclear. "Pour it on there, as much as you can for as long as you can. And try not to be too loud, last thing we need is Flyers coming down here."

Hesitantly, you bring the bottle up and over your leg. Your free hand grips onto the collar of your shirt and you lift it to your lips, biting into the thin fabric. Squeezing your eyes shut, you tip the bottle and let the alcohol pour down onto the wound.

The pain is unbearable. You want to scream, cry, kick your legs like a toddle in a rampage. But it's paralyzing, has you stiff as a board as you cry into your shirt and twitch uncomfortably.

You don't know how long you keep pouring, but it feels like minutes to you, though it can't be. Not judging by the amount of liquid still in the bottle. Even so John looks pleased when you pry your collar out of your mouth, swallowing down another harsh gulp of the drink before discarding the bottle to the side.

Messily, you wipe at your cheeks, sniffling as you blink up at him.

"What now?"

The box in his hand is a sewing kit. Meant for clothes or bags, but he insists it'll do the job, at least for now. John cleans the needle for you, pulling out a small pink lighter from his pocket and holding the needle in the flame. Then he's threading it for you, softly muttering instructions as he shows you. You're glad he doesn't make you thread it because you can't really feel your fingers anymore. Just buzzing, numb fingertips.

Too soon, he's slipping the threaded needle through the cage to you, telling you how to hold it and keep the thread untangled. He doesn't have to tell you what i's for, you already know.

So you steel yourself again, biting into your cheek as you follow his commands of pinching the wound shut with one hand, methodically pushing the needle through the flesh until you've got a fairly good looking stitch.

"Atta girl," he compliments, grinning proudly and it makes your chest flutter with relief. At least something is going well tonight. "Bellissimo."

You chuckle wetly, beginning the next one. "Non male, eh?"

John's grin grows at your words, eyes twinkling. "Tu parli Italiano?"

"Sì lo faccio," you answer, wincing at the pinch of the needle. "My family is Italian. Mamma and papa left Italy to get married, here in Jersey."

You're not sure why you're telling him all of this, but having something to talk about it making it easier to sew up the wound so you keep going.

"They were running from the mafia," you snort, humorlessly. "Little did they know, huh?"

John shuffles, drops down onto his bottom so he's sitting facing you, back leaning against the crates. "I left Italy for school," he says quietly, "my Papa stayed back to pay for it. Went through some mafioso friend to pay for it for me. Four years at Harvard, he's sill paying for it."

You tilt your head in confusion. "Still?"

He clears his throat, nodding solemnly. When he speaks, it's in Italian again. "They killed him, when he couldn't pay it back in time. I was two months away from graduation."

Pausing, you sit up and look at him. He looks younger than he did before, hunched in on himself, brown eyes heavy and sad. "I'm sorry John." you reply, addressing him in Italian too. "I can't imagine."

"Johnny," he corrects, "call me Johnny. And it's not all that bad. I got to stay here, with Sid and the Pengs. S'nice. M'sure you get it, feeling at home with the Devs, yeah?"

You scoff, rolling your eyes and slowly going back to stitching yourself up. "They don't speak Italian," you say, "For awhile I think it was just Swiss guys and Bratter. But Nico's got a big heart, he ended up letting anyone in."

Johnny laughs. "You joined a mob that's not Italian? How'd that happen?"

"I didn't join," you correct, "I fell in love."

The two of you continue on like that, speaking softly in Italian like it hasn't been months since you've used the language. Johnny seems to enjoy it too, giving you tips and pointers on your stitches.

And you tell him everything, the story of the past year of your life with Nico and the Devils. How you met Nico just before the start of your senior year of university, at his bar that you basically made your own. And for months you were with him all the time, spent every free second with him, even if meant he was just watching you study, patiently waiting until you gave him the sign that he could slip you out of your clothes and into his bed.

You're friends learned about him, warned you about what the streets said. But you ignored it because he felt so right, and the more you were with him, the more wrong you're friends became. Around Spring you become his unofficial girlfriend, his girl to the group and to your friends, but hidden from everyone else.

Two weeks before graduation you asked him about the group, for real this time. And he told you everything, what he did, how he got into it, how they got their reputation. Exactly what kind of lifestyle it was.

Not the greatest, but for him worth it. So worth it that when you went to your parents with the information that your boyfriend, your mafioso boyfriend would be attending graduation, they gave you the ultimatum. They didn't flee organized crime just for you to bring it back into the family here.

You showed up for graduation unsure, confused, and lost. But Nico had shown up, and with him came Timo and Jack and Dawson, all somehow in the front row being rowdy and annoying.

It was a no brainer. You'd pick him in any lifetime. Because you know he wouldn't make you choose, he'd find a way for you to have everything. After the ceremony was the last time you spoke to them.

Four days later you told Nico you were all in, that you'd given up your parents and brother, your life to be a part of this life.

And the worst happened. He said no. Even when you begged and cried, told him that you love him more than anything else, he still said no. You're not dumb, you knew what he was doing. You loved him enough to lose everything, and that terrified him.

For a month, you lived without him. Miserable, family-less, and doing everything to just move on. It came in the form of going out every night with your friends, to forget him, to let loose before your adult lives started for real.

That month must have been hell for him too, because he came running back not too long later. Telling you he was sorry, that he had been scared and unsure, that you caught him off guard. He hadn't been ready before, but he was now.

You knew better than to let that feeling of love go, so you went against the advice of your friends. You followed him to Jersey, set roots in the Devils that had been growing ever since.

Talking to Johnny is nice. It feels like having an old friend back, not one Nico has assigned to you or ordered to listen to you, but someone genuinely curious. You haven't felt like that since early summer, when you were still with your college crowd.

"Wow," Johnny whistles when you've finished. "I never would've thought that that is what Hischier had up his sleeve this past year."

"Yeah," you laugh, listening closely as he tells you how to tie off the thread of your stitches. They're a little wonky and sloppy, but they do the job just fine. At least that what he tells you before instructing you to cover them with your jacket again.

"So when did you officially join?" He continues, and you chuckle.

"I haven't," you reply, "I don't have a pendant yet. Up until tonight, I didn't even think anyone actually saw me as Nico's girlfriend except him an-"

"Wait," he interrupts, shaking his head. "Giroux and the Flyers came after you without a Devs mark?"

Assuming that's who you've been taken by, you silently nod. He fishes out a pocket knife, slips it to you so you can cut the thread off. You hand him the needle back, trying to slip the knife back through when he grunts.

"Nah you keep it," he says, "you can use it to carve up some Flyers when we get you outta here."

~~~~

Timo has barely slammed on the brakes when Nico is throwing the door open, jumping out of the vehicle and stalking towards Sid and Jarry.

"What's happening?" He demands, shoving his gun back into his waistband. Behind him, the other vehicles come to a stop, all the boys slipping out in similar fashions.

Sid waves him over, an iPad in hand that he holds out to Nico. It's a simple map of Fargo, specifically the ground level. A thin red line trails through it, carving out a path.

"Earpiece my guy has got in has a tracker," he informs Nico, nodding to Jarry's equipment. The broody brunette is hunched over a radio system, large headphones over his ear. "He's in there with her now, this is the route he took."

Nico's head snaps up, glancing over at Jarry. "He's in there now? And she's with him, you're sure?"

"Yeah," Sid laughs, "he's been in there for a little over an hour. No sign of them coming down to fuck with her since he got there, but he mentioned medical aid."

Jittery, Nico takes in the map, commits it to memory. Then he's handing it off to Timo. "Memorize it," he instructs gruffly, "all of you. We get in, get to her, and take the same way out. Jack and Mercer, you keep two vehicles out here running. We get out with her, get her in one and drive, no matter what. Seperate, don't let anyone see what car she is in. You don't meet up again until you're sure you're not being followed,

"The rest of you will kill as many fucking Flyers as you see in there. And on the way out, burn it."

Sid is giggling when Nico finishes explaining the plan to his men, and he looks over at him through a burning glare. "What's so funny, Crosby?"

He holds both hands up, shaking his head in amusement. "Nothing. I’ll instruct the boys on where to take her. Got a safe house not too far away.”

“Thanks,” Nico nods to Jarry. "What's he doing?"

Sid looks over, raises an eyebrow. "He's in Marino's ear, taking reports on what's happening inside. Been listening to him chat with Miss Devil for a bit now."

"He's listening to her?"

"Oh yeah," Sid nods, "not that he really got anything. They've been talking in Italian I guess. Jarry's strictly English over there and well I just know a little Russ-"

"Can he talk to her?" Nico interrupts, impatient and tired of this conversation. "Can she hear him?"

"Well Marino can," Sid confirms, "he can't take the comm out because it'll disconnect but he can relay a message to her, for sure."

That's all Nico needs to hear. He's ripping the earphones off Jarry, the cord slipping unplugged and static erupts from the machine. But then he hears it, slightly muffled but definitely you. He'd know that voice anywhere, how sweet it sounds, even when it's speaking a language he barely knows.

"The mic," he demands, and Jarry is handing him the tiny mouthpiece, bristling when Nico yanks it out of his hand and shoulders him away.

"Marino," he calls into it, "it's Hischier, do you copy?"

The speakers go silent for just a moment before his voice flows through, louder and clearer then yours. "Marino here, I copy."

Nico breathes out a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping inwards. "I-just wait with her a bit longer, ok? My men and I are coming in, tell her to hang on for me, ok?"

He knows he sounds pathetic, weak and desperate but he doesn't care. Not right now, not with her so close but so far.

"You got it," Marino confirms, continuing his words in Italian and Nico knows he's sending the message along. He's not sure entirely what he's telling her but he recognizes the words good and lucky.

Nico barely gets to here your far away voice say his name before shouts are cutting you off, scuffling and you screaming breaking through the line.

And then it goes dead.

~~~~

"Looks like it's our lucky day," Johnny grins at you, removing his finger from his earpiece. "The good guys are here for ya."

Your hand clenches around the pocket knife you've been holding, heart thudding in your chest and you try to fight back the smile tugging at your lips, the relief fluttering in your veins.

His name is on the tip of your tongue, desperate to ask for him, to ask to hear him through the earpiece, just for one moment, just to know he's actually here.

All that comes out instead is a terrified screech, one that rips through your throat and chest painfully. Johnny is roughly hauled up into the air and around the side of the cage, tripping over his feet as a tall brunette towers over him. Though he's got quiete the build on Johnny, it's not him that's terrifying. No it's the barrel of the slick, black pistol pointed at Johnny's head.

"Well look what waddled in," the man hisses, effortlessly tossing Johnny to the ground next to him. You're frozen, mouth hanging open with horror as Johnny scrambles to his feet only to hold still when he comes face to face with the gun.

"Farabee," Johnny says lowly.

"Last I checked she was with the Devils, not the Penguins," Farabeee says, tilting his head in thought. "Walk, now."

Farabee shoves Johnny around the front of the cage until he's at the locked door. Then the brunette is glaring over at you, dark eyes so piercing and cold you stutter, mouth clamping shut.

"Over here sweetheart," he instructs and you hesitantly get up, wincing at the pull in your stitches. You don't stop until you're standing in front of the door, peering at Johnny with wide eyes through the chain link.

"I'm gonna unlock the door," Farabee explains, faux sweetness dripping off his tongue. "and you're gonna open it for your good friend Marino here. Then I'm gonna close it, and we'll see how much fun Giroux let's me have with you two, ok?"

Johnny's jaw clenches, nose flaring as he grunts out his agreement. Your throat is to dry, tongue too big in your mouth to say anything so you just nod, meekly.

"Good, now get on your knees!" Farabee barks, his voice echoing off the concrete walls and you sink down onto your tender leg, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.

"Oh you like that one, huh? No hesitation, sweetheart? No wonder Nico likes you." He taunts. Heat crawls up your neck and ears, burns at the apples of your cheeks. You keep your gaze lowered, focusing on the low top converse Farabee is wearing. No socks underneath either, the pale skin of his ankle sticking out.

Nico never wears those. Of course he's got Nikes that he loves, wears them everywhere, even with formal attire. But he always wears boots on a job, protective and steel-toed. Heavy too, you know from the time you tried them on and clunked around his apartment like a clown.

He's protecting weak spots, you realize, he can't get away if a deal goes bad if someone's injured his ankles or feet.

Ears ringing, you swallow harshly and let your fingers find the blade of the pocket knife in your hand. You hear key rattle, the lock above your head jingling, though it's muffled by your thoughts.

With a shaky left hand, you push open the door of the cage, looking up at Johnny through your eyelashes. Farabee shoves him into the cage and he stumbles into you, enough that when you lean to the right and leap forward, it looks like you're simply moving out of his way.

But your fingers have locked on the knife, pushing the blade out and you quickly swipe at the left foot of Farabee. With all your strength you drag the blade over the back of his ankle, the knife getting hot and slippery at the amount of blood that spurts out.

Farabee cries out, falls forward onto his knees. The gun in his hand clatters to the ground as he reaches for the wound behind him, and you drop the knife to reach for the pistol.

You don't know much about guns, but you know that the safety is off and all you really have to do is pull the trigger. Which is what you do, aiming for his chest, but the recoil makes you flinch back and the bullet sinks into his right armpit.

Falling back, the gun once again clatters to the ground. You're ears are still ringing, hands numb as you scramble back into the cage, kicking until you've collided with the shelf behind you.

He is laying in a heap on the ground, is legs squished under his body awkwardly. Even from here you can see the pool of blood around him. But you can't move, can't hear, can't see anything but the blood on him and on your hands. It feels like the gun is still in your hands, heavy and daunting.

You gasp, wheezing as you try to catch your breath, try to get your head to focus. Someone will definitely come down here after that, and you and Johnny can't be here.

Two hands cup your face, so cold on your flushed and sweating skin that it jolts you, makes you blink and look up to find Johnny looking down at you.

"Cara," he calls gently, in Italian “we gotta get up, we gotta go now."

Dumbly, you latch onto his arms, let him haul you up onto your feet. He leaves you standing there as he picks up the gun and knife from earlier, glancing at Farabee on the floor before rushing back to your side.

When he speaks to you again, it sounds like your underwater. "Take this, try to keep up."

He shoves the bloodied knife back in your hand before crouching down to slip your left arm over his shoulders. Then he's taking you by the waist, practically dragging you as you limp out the open door and past Farabee’s body. You can't bring yourself to look at him, to see if he's dead or not.

He's not moving, and that's enough for you.

You're choking down breathes, clinging to Johnny as he guides you back towards the old zamboni. The two of you have just rounded it to reveal a short hallway when your eyes seem to focus, a familiar figure busting though the door at the end.

"Y/n!"

It's instinct, the way you immediately leap from Johnny's hold at the sound of his voice. More figures have followed him through the door, but you don't spare them a glance, you can't look away from him.

Nico seems to pick up his pace when he realizes your limping, quickly closing the gap between you two. You fling yourself at him, arms locking around his neck as you push off your good leg.

The knife Johnny had given back to you presses into his shoulder, the blood staining his white shirt but you don't care. You just squeeze your eyes shut, let the others shove around you two as you try to keep sucking in air.

You’re panicking, dry heaving, shuttering sobs that get caught in your chest and throat. Nico strokes over the back of your head protectively, his arms and body so strong and safe.

Gunfire sounds behind you, some shouting and you pull back from Nico, grabbing onto the hem of his shirt as you look back down the hallway. Johnny and Timo are there, leaning around the corner to fire shots. And pressed against the side of the zamboni are Haula and Jesper, their own weapons out and ready to go.

"Let's go baby," Nico urges you, hands on your waist as he guides you back down the hall. After a few limping steps, Nico stops, turning and swiftly picking you up.

Your hands stay locked in the fabric of his shirt, terrified that if you let him go he'll disappear. Through the door is another abandoned room, smaller and darker, with old wooden desks. Like it was some sort of office.

Numbly, you look around, only stopping when you come face to face with Nico. He's glancing down at you as he goes, trudging through another door and hall. You bite your lip, take in the way his eyebrows are pinched together and mouth pursed in a thin line. And his eyes, they're so unlike him that you don't even know what to say. Dark and droopy, almost haunted looking.

You open your mouth and the only words that come out are “You came for me?”

Nico falters in his steps, slowing down as he stares at you incredulously. “Of course I came for you baby,” he says and shakes his head in disbelief. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know,” you hiccup, dropping your gaze in embarrassment. “I-We’re in Philadelphia and it’s far and I didn’t know h-“

“I will always come for you,” he interrupts, unable to just stand there and let you break his heart. "Baby, you gotta know that. There's no way I would have just left you here."

His earnest rattles your chest, brings a fresh wave of tears to your eyes and you swallow heavily. After everything these past couple months, you should know that. He came back for you before. But you're mind loves to focus on the month he didn't want you, the month that he did leave you.

You shake the thought away, sniffling as he comes to a stop by the back corner of the wall. "Alright baby," gently, he places you back on your feet. "I'm gonna lift you up through the vent. Jonas is out there waiting for you, he's gonna help you ou-"

"You're coming too right?"

Nico clamps his mouth shut, tilting his head sympathetically. You immediately shake yours, tightening your hold on him. "I can't - Nico please-"

"Ok, ok, breathe for me baby, breathe."

He holds your face in his hands, frowning when his thumb ghosts over the cut on your swollen cheek. Trembling, you breathe in and out with him, squeezing your eyes shut when he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

"M'not leaving you," he promises quietly, "s'ok, I'm not leaving you."

Clinging onto him and his words, you take another deep breathe and for the first time all night, bask in the hope of walking out of here alive.

~~~~

Sidney Crosby is his real name. That's what he tells you when Nico helps you out of the car Mercer had been driving. By the time you'd driven away from the warehouse it was already going up in flames, Nico looking through the back windshield with glee.

You felt it too, for a moment. Heart thumping excitedly and relief flooding through your veins. It quickly faded when the adrenaline did, and the pain in your face, wrist, and leg returned.

Barley able to hold yourself up, Sidney motions you into the front door of his overly large mansion. Right, he's the boss, he's Johnny's boss-

"Johnny!" You gasp, straightening in Nico's hold as alarm bells go off in your head. You remember seeing him with Timo, seeing Farabee’s gun in his hand. "Johnny, where is- I left him Nico."

Both him and Mercer look at you like you’re crazy but you're already fighting off their hold, trying to limp back to the front door. "I have to go back for him," you cry when they latch onto you again, Nico easily pining you to his chest. "No, I have to-"

"He's ok, he's ok!" Nico is yelling over your cries, "He's with Timo and the others, he's ok."

You grab at Nico's hand, dig your nails into them as you sob. "I forgot him, I forgot him..."

Everything in you gives out after that, bones and muscles turning to mush in Nico's hold. He drags you across the living room and into the kitchen where a man is standing by the table with a medkit.

Now that you're crying again, you can't stop. You can barley see through your wet and swollen eyes, broken whimpers leaving your lips and Nico has to fall into the dining room chair with you in his arms, holding you tight to his chest.

You feel the sharp sting of the needle in your arm, bristling as you look up to find an unknown pair of brown eyes and a thin face peering down at you. Warmth spreads through you, everything turning to Jell-O and all you can do is lay in Nico's arm, hiccupping as they go to work fixing you.

~~~~

"I didn't realize she had such an attachment to Marino," Sid says quietly, him and Nico watching you from across the room. After Sid's personal doctor Fleury sedated you, Nico was able to hold you still until your hysterical cries had quieted. But as soon as the rest of the boys arrived and Marino came barreling into the kitchen shouting for you, he was quickly kicked out of the dining room chair.

You're holding Marino's hand, perched on top of the kitchen counter as Fleury finishes up stitching your cheek. Your poor little face is swollen and bruised, lip busted in the corner. Fleury's got a temporary cast around the wrist you fractured, and he's had to cut the pants leg off of you're injured leg to redo the messy stitches there.

"Me either," Nico murmurs, arms crossed over his chest. You look like a trainwreck to put it honestly. And yet still so sweet, even when your mind is half gone. You're talking, the words slurring a bit but it's in full, fluent Italian and from the look on Marino's face, he can understand you. So you must be pretty coherent.

It has been awhile since they sedated you to be fair. Nico still worries though, wonders what you're blabbering on about.

"Eh kid needed a friend," Sid says, nodding towards Marino. "I took him in after his father was killed in Italy, he was fresh outta college. Never really got to have fun, to be a kid. And he sure as hell never gets to speak Italian."

Nico hums. "She doesn't either," he says. "All the family she's got is us, and we don't know the language."

Him and Sid look around, take in Haula, Timo, Jonas, and Jesper sat at the kitchen table, sipping on beers as they too watch her. Jack and Mercer hover, standing behind her like they might jump into the conversation if they could.

"S'pretty good fucking family." Sid compliments.

"Yeah," he agrees. "Thanks, for your help tonight Sid. And tell Jarry thanks too."

"Of course, no problem Hischier."

"If you ever need anything, you know who to call. I guarantee my men will be fighting over chances to pay you back for her."

Sid laughs, claps Nico on the back. Before he can say anything, Marino is calling for him.

"Her highness over here is ready for a shower," he says, jabbing a thumb at her. She giggles at him, messily wiping at her sniffling nose before looking to Nico. "And she really needs one too, peeew."

Nico comes over, takes her warm hand from Marino and helps her off the counter. Sid motions to the hall across the room. "Gotta a room down here for ya, Geno took in clothes for you both."

Nodding gratefully, Nico leads you and your bambi legs down the hall and into the bedroom, closing the door behind you. Not wanting to get blood or dirt on anything, he doesn't let you sit down until your in the bathroom, perched on the countertop.

He turns the water on, strips himself of his shirt and jeans before moving to you. You're already watching him, eyes red and glossy, and you hold your arms up for him to peel you out of your shirt.

"I think I killed a Flyer," you say quietly "Johnny said maybe he lived but I didn't see him move."

Nico swallows, distracts himself with gently removing your cast from your arm. "You didn't kill anyone baby," he comforts. "Anyone that died, anyone that got hurt tonight is on me."

His throat burns as he says it, eyes stinging with tears. It's the truth, all of tonight was his fault. Your pain, Johnny's, even the Flyer you hurt, is on him. Because he put you in that situation.

"He was a bad person," you say slowly, but the words are strong and certain. Nico keeps going, helping you undress and lay your ruined clothes on the bathroom floor. "I don't feel bad, but it was scary."

"Yeah," Nico sniffles, "I was scared too."

You gasp. "You were?"

"Of course I was, I was scared I'd lost you for good this time."

Tender hands cup his jaw, force him to look up at you. You've got the sweetest smile on your lips, so pretty even with all the bruising and cuts.

"I told Johnny how much I love you. While he taught me to stitch."

He nods. "Marino kept you alive."

"Eh," you make a face, "I think it was more the thought of you. Of getting back to you. That's why he asked me about you."

Nico heart aches, the pain so bittersweet he thinks he could look down and physically see his own chest cracking open. But he keeps his eyes on you.

"You don't cry very much," you whisper, stroking his cheeks. "Maybe we should sedate you too."

Unexpectedly, a wet laugh bubbles out of him and you giggle in response. Yeah, you're definitely still feeling that shot.

"Maybe," he agrees, "but first let's get you cleaned up and ready for bed, ok?"

"Ok," you agree, sitting there patiently while he finishes undressing. "Can Johnny sleep with us?"

He frowns, helps you down from the counter. "No, he can't"

"Just in the same room then?"

"Baby, no. Why would you want that?"

You pout, looking up at him with sad eyes as he peels back the shower curtain. "I like him," you say, as if that's enough of an explanation for Nico to let another boy sleep in the bed with you.

"He's got his own bed."

"Can we sleep in there with him , then?"

Nico huffs, steps into the hot water and tries to urge you in. You don't budge.

"I want to sleep in our own bed."

You sigh, holding his hands and join him under the spray of hot water. "How about Sid then?"

Nico runs his hands over your face, wipes away all the dripping dirt and blood. "Why do you want us to sleep with everyone?"

"I don't know," you shrug, "I like Sidney Crosby."

Shaking his head, Nico laughs and helps you wet your hair.

"He's pretty," you continue, fingers reaching out to play with the wet hair matted to Nico's forehead. "If he had dimples he'd be as pretty as you."

Nico blushes. "Thank you."

"Johnny has no tooth," you add, "but he's still cute too..."

And he lets you go on and on for the rest of the shower, any little thought that pops into your head coming out, even when he's in the middle of rinsing shampoo out of your head and instructed you to keep your mouth closed. Instead you get a mouthful of suds.

Neither of you care. You mostly because you're still loopy, but for him, it's because he knows you're home safe and sound. And Giroux and the Flyers on choking on their own ashes right now.

#mob boss nico hischier #nico hischier #new jersey devils #nhl #him and i #nj devils #nico hischer x reader #Devils mafia au #mob wife reader #angst

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theemporium · 3 months

Note

💚14 with luke hughes for the 10k celly pls! (congrats!!)

btw i did put this in the mob au!! thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

10. “I don’t like them all looking at you."

series masterlist

Luke Hughes didn’t consider you to be a particularly possessive person.

Then again, he was also completely oblivious to his feelings for you being requited for months so maybe he wasn’t the best person to make judgements.

But even so, he never considered you to be possessive in the way he had seen other people in his life. He had seen Jack’s hot streak of jealousy when it came to Doc, the way the boy got clingy and pouty and a bit of a brat when he didn’t have her full attention. He knew Rogue was not someone to mess with when it came to Nico, and he had seen her put people in their place many times because of it. He had even seen it in John, despite how quiet and reserved the boy seemed.

He never once thought you would be like that, not really.

Not in this way.

Your relationship wasn’t exactly something either of you advertised, considering both of you were fairly private people, even to those close to you. Though, it would only take someone with a pair of eyes to see how the two of you looked at each other, it wasn’t something you shoved in people’s faces.

Hence why Luke tried to keep his ‘googly heart eyes’ (as Jack refers to them) to a minimum as he made his way into the club.

“Back again?”

Luke gave the older woman behind the bar a polite smile. “Hi, Georgia.”

“Has Nico sent you again?” Georgia asked, a knowing look in her eyes as she threw the dishcloth over her shoulder. “Or have you come to distract my girls again?”

“Boss wanted some information from a client the other night,” Luke said, which was not a lie. He had actually been sent down to the club for a reason. It was just a perk he got to see you during your shift. “Not here to be a bother.”

“Uh huh,” she hummed, nodding over his shoulder. “Tell that to them.”

Luke turned his head, finding a few of the dancers lingering by the stage. It was still an hour or so before the club opened, meaning the place was empty except for the workers. Though, Luke just gave the scantily clad girls an awkward wave before turning back to Georgia.

“You’re like fresh meat to them,” Georgia snorted. “They smell your fear.”

“I’m not scared of them,” Luke retorted, though his laugh was a little strained. “I just—”

“I’ve got him from here, Georgia.”

He barely got a chance to say goodbye to the woman when he felt a hand wrap around his wrist, tugging him in the direction of the changing rooms at the back of the club. However, his instinct to pull away completely washed away when he saw you pulling him away from the main area of the club, your brows furrowed and lips turned downwards.

Luke frowned. “Are you okay—woah!”

He stumbled into your room, looking back at you with wide eyes as you closed the door. He paused for a moment, just watching you as you locked the door before letting out a heavy sigh and turning to him. You wasted no time closing the distance between you, winding your arms around his middle as you pressed your cheek against his chest.

“Star, baby,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around you. “Are you okay? What’s happened? Was it—”

“I don’t like them all looking at you,” you mumbled against his shirt as your hold on him tightened.

“Oh,” Luke paused for a moment before a small grin grew on his face. “You’re jealous?”

You lifted your head to narrow your eyes at him. “They are vultures.”

“Uh huh,” he grinned down at you, lifting his hands to cup your face. “Well, unlucky for them, I’m here to see my favourite dancer.”

You raised your brows. “Just your favourite dancer?”

“She happens to be my girlfriend too,” he added with a casual shrug, something warming in his chest at your smile. He leaned down to peck your lips. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”

“No, really, it’s cute. You look murderous—”

“I’ll murder you.”

“And you’ll look cute when you do it.”

#cece's cocktail celebration #luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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buoyantsaturn · 6 years

Text

C.J. buoyantsaturn’s AO3 top ten!

merry christmas and happy 2 year ao3 anniversary to me! (top 10 ranked by kudos, + sequels that were also very high in numbers)

I'm in Hell, I've Got to Tell Somebody Now (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (67888 words)

Will needs someone to watch his daughter while he's at work. Putting out an ad online is a good idea, right?

Chasing These Pretty, Pretty Things (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (8083 words)

Welcome to the supplementary ficlets relating to the I'm in Hell au! These probably don't need to be read alongside the actual story, but it might help??? idk

Bravado (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (5454 words)

anonymous said: I really need kindergarten teacher Will and hot single dad Nico.

buoyantsaturn answered: bruh me too

The Louvre (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (7046 words)

“Would you mind if I walked you home?”

“That depends,” Will started. “Are you offering because you think I might get lost, or because you haven’t gotten enough of me yet?”

“Definitely the second one,” Nico answered.

“Oh! I forgot the third option: you’re following me home to rob me blind. You know, so to speak.”

Marriage Material: Gives Good Hugs (Miraculous Ladybug) (1283 words)

Adrien dreams about his wedding with Marinette. The only problem is that they aren't even together.

Mob Mentality (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (7594 words)

Nico is the most terrifying mob boss in New York, and Will is his live-in doctor.

A Mafia Au

He Stole All Hearts Away (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (7997 words)

Will reached up to wipe away a smear of blood on Nico’s cheek, momentarily forgetting about his own blood-covered hands and only making the smear worse. “That’s an awful lot of blood you’ve got on you,” Will commented. “None of it’s yours, right?”

Silver Rings (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (845 words)

Barely a second later, he said, “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” Will said back to him, not taking his eyes off the gash.

“That ring.” Will froze, eyes widening. “Isn’t that Nico’s?”

Ace of Hearts (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (2563 words)

Will’s blood ran cold. Did he do something wrong? Did he repulse Nico so much that he made Nico sick?

That's Rough, Buddy (Percy Jackson and the Olympians; Avatar: The Last Airbender) (38450 words)

“Father doesn’t want me there any more than he wants you,” Nico said, eyes out at the open sea in front of them. “Let them look, I won’t go back.”

An Avatar: the Last Airbender au featuring a runaway prince!

Glory and Gore (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (9796 words)

the request: police officers son will and like bad boy nico? like all the sneakin through the window at night Romeo and Juliet type shit.

and what a great idea it was

Million Dollar Bills (Percy Jackson and the Olympians) (9076 words)

“His name is Will, he’s twenty-five, he’s very nice and very pretty, and we’re going out again soon. Now get your work done before Sally gets home.”

#mine #my writing #solangelo #fic rec #i'm in hell

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lostamxngstars · 7 years

Text

God’s Game

Siblings thrown away from civilization in order to live, has now become the elusive, top-ranking player called 『　　』.

And after a tournament and a simple chess game, a new game comes.

『No Game No Life x Heroes of Olympus Crossover AU』

AO3 | WP

In the beginning was a world war.

In that world war were half-bloods: young and old, able and crippled, men and women. They scrambled day and night to protect the camps, the mortals, and themselves against the half-bloods standing at the other side of their gun. This war didn't touch the di Angelos, who'd been living and moving away from the worst sectors of the worldwide chaos. They would always find themselves in a hotel, waiting for where they will move next according to Hades. They were neither sad nor happy with the choice, however. It was unfortunate that they were akin to prisoners but one step outside would make them shorter by a head.

Until Zeus finally had enough, and brought down the entire hotel over their heads out of anger. For Hades had been deliberately ignoring his will, and only the Fates know how long could one's patience can go. Even for gods.

Only Nico survived that encounter, if not for Hades who blinked to existence right next to him. But he was all too late to save his mortal wife and his half-blood daughter. His memories were left intact, and he sorely wanted no more of that life. Of hiding. But what could a seven-year-old boy do? His father sent him to the Lotus Hotel and Casino with nothing but his clothes, then, vowing two things before leaving: to get in touch with him.

The other was obvious. I'll protect you from any god who might hurt you.

At that time he was seven, and a seven-year-old needed an education. But there was no way they could bring a mortal teacher inside. The hotel sucked the life out of every mortal to enter and never left. No, Nico didn't want to have a brain-dead, poker-ravished teacher. So he had to make do with what was available.

The games.

Often he would hear people discussing about cheap tricks done by those who shuffle cards, some patterns they'd seen when they played and watched the players and how they would make use of it. Nico took them to heart, wanting to learn all of it. It was still education, just informal. Uncommon. Strategies were important. And if people only looked deeper, they would realize that these games can be manipulated with statistics and probability. For the latter he needed to sharpen his wits. Enough to see through the game. Enough to outsmart his opponents.

But of course, kids weren't allowed to play with the adults in the casino. So when a certain lawyer came to tend Nico's needs, he always asked him to take him there and play in his stead. At first they lost. That was okay. Nico studied the way his opponents think, studied the field, study, apply, learn from the loses, rinse and repeat. In a few months they started winning in bigger bets, beat the adults who looked like they literally lived seventy years in the casino. The prizes were almost bigger than his own allowances coming from the god of riches and the Underworld, and that was something.

By the time he was eight, he met his half-sister. A little furtive thing, almost naive. Yet Hazel Levesque knew how to read people like a book. Her eyes were soft and gold, unsuspecting but beneath that was a girl who did not trust anyone, not even the father who saved her.

So he really couldn't hide his surprise when he showed her how to play cards those golden eyes lit up in excitement.

Soon, they played together with the lawyer still being their representative. Win, win, win. That was all they did every hour and every day. The mortals always fought against them even when they kept on losing their coins by the thousands. Two years later it got boring. No one really put up a fight against them. And in the pit of despair they stayed. They didn't want to fight anyone in the thrice-damned hotel anymore. They wanted a taste of fresh air.

Their restlessness reached their father and so he stepped up the game. Games from the mortal world. Every year there would be new consoles, new game disks, new gadgets, faster internet installations laced with the strongest defense magic. Their world which was once the whole of Lotus Hotel shrunk to their penthouse suite, filled with every game imagined. They spent unholy amount of hours fighting in virtual worlds and beating the odds. They collected books in digital format to read about the outside world which, to them, almost felt as far as Nico standing at one end of the Milky Way's arm and Hazel at the other.

Living in that hotel made it so easy for Nico to forget that he was supposed to avenge his dead mom and sister.

Playing games everyday made it so easy for Hazel to forget how she had suffered in the hands of her cruel mom and the crueler Earth Mother.

And yet.

They wanted to make this moment, the magic of gaming, last forever.

The outside world didn't matter. Not anymore.

"Neeks."

"Yeah?"

"I'm dying."

Nico instinctively looked at the HP bar of Hazel's characters, (one on 95% and another on 94%) then realized she meant it in real time. "This is why I told you to get protein bars."

"But the chocolate. The new ones. I heard they were good."

"I know. And I wouldn't have asked for three bars if I didn't want to try it out myself. But to take half the box for our stock? We've got a long and bloody tournament."

"I really thought I brought the right one. I was so sure..."

Nico made quick work of the minions. They were sprinting once more to the deeper parts of the dungeon. "Nectar? Ambrosia?"

"Nein."

"Then what else do we have?"

"Cheetos."

Nico snorted. "Good taste."

They were heading towards the Grand Master, an angelic figure with four wings, four or five or ten HP bars (it depended on who you asked), armed with god-level spells and other things that beta testers have predicted. No one agreed on how powerful the Grand Master is, only on what it does after you lose to it. Your characters, its throwaway identities, and the game itself will be deleted from your PC. Some reported losing memories of the game or forgetting the game's name until they ventured outside and saw an ad... All sorts of strange stories.

Knowing the why behind those reports were beyond the 『』's pay grade, though.

They were a small party of four played by two, last one standing and armed with god-level spells as well. At the moment they rushed through the dungeons, decimating the minions trying to ambush them. The siblings had one advantage: they were not as limited as a virtual character controlled by machines. And they never had a black spot on their standings. Ever.

On one of Hazel's phones, the screen showed a forum playing their game-play through live-stream. The nets buzzed with their title. Four million hits and counting. Thousands of comments and rising. Idolized. Hated. Loved. Mocked. It didn't matter. They were not regular players anyway.

Playing for almost two days with only a few minute breaks had been known to break down gaming mortals. But they were not just gaming mortals. They were demigods and they had a bit of nectar and ambrosia. But without those and the protein bars, they were as good as screwed. Nico wanted his characters to hide for a while in one of the catacombs, just enough to stretch and gloat at a Cheetos before devouring a bag. But the whole tournament was time-sensitive even their breaks were determined in system time.

There would be no breaks until they defeat the Grand Master.

"Needs HP," Nico grumbled.

"Look ahead for enemies. I'll feed you."

Nico smiled. After a quick three-sixty, he reported the two-hundred-and-fifty-meters area around them as clean. Hazel layered their characters in defensive spells, sent a few minions to set traps, and then grabbed a bag of Cheetos nearby. The area outside the boss room was pretty empty, which was probably part of a common strategy: gather everything at the key point of conflict. So much the better.

They ate and gulped down water as fast as they can, careful not to let a drop fall on their equipment. Nico wiped himself clean with the back of his hand. "I'm taking charge of the food starting tomorrow."

"My chocolates—"

"Will be safe," he assured her. "Have you checked the time?"

"I've eaten seven bars. Three every day. This is the second day...?"

"Unsure?"

"No."

"We'll discuss it la—god's cur!"

A horde raced out of the darkness. Thanks to Hazel's efforts earlier, the front-line shredded itself so bad it affected the little minions at their tails. Chaos everywhere, NPCs dying a little noisier than one would think. Their characters didn't have to move to inflict death but magic was not inexhaustible. Already, Hazel's characters chugged as many HP potions as they can at the side to fill their losses.

"Let's end this," Nico declared, moving his characters through the mob. Hazel followed suit.

They stayed awake for the next two days, eating Cheetos in a haste while their feet took the job of their hands on the mice. It was especially hard for Nico who doesn't have to use his feet very often and in this position. He was basically leaning far away

"Neeks..."

Oh, no, the loving brother thought. "We've gone through worse, Hazel. You can do this."

Worse as in hunted by foes. Worse as in kept awake by nightmares. Nightmares woven by gods, by magic, by the stink of this hotel — a lot of things. So many things.

She knew it. Yet. "We're almost... Done... I..."

"And then you can rest," Nico promised, "all day long and until the next day, and you'll wake with chocolates at your side, I swear it."

"...if you say... So..."

The last HP bar, Nico muttered as he moved his character around, dodging the spells thrown at him. Even if IRL Hazel was lagging her characters didn't reflect it. Impressive sweet sister. He took out his trump card and set out the most powerful spell he knows against the damned boss.

Die already!

A great light filled their screens as his spell and the Grand Master met, and then the victory spiel and banners flying everywhere.

Nico and Hazel slumped against their chairs, exhausted. Pings filled their phones. Of course, these were only throwaway IDs and emails, quickly filling with news about 『』's victory.

"They've got... something... to talk... About."

"Let them talk, little sister. Remember Snow?"

"Know... Nothing..."

"Precisely."

A special mail ringtone played on another phone. It announced any email coming from somewhere not listed among their saved addresses. Nico looked around for it for a while until he found it on one of the Cheetos boxes.

The subject was addressed to...

"Hazel..."

"Mmm."

"Hazel, look."

"...Why...?" Hazel was already rising, though.

"Come on. It's a mail. For us."

She started falling back on the floor with her frown. "What's so... different..."

Nico showed it to her but she shielded her eyes. "Too bright!"

"Ah, sorry. Sorry." He set down the brightness a little lower, and showed it again. "Read the subject."

"'To the siblings, 『』.' Wait—" she stared at Nico with wide eyes. "No one knows we are!"

"She woke." Hazel stuck out her tongue. "You're right. No one knows that about us. So this person, whoever he is..."

"...Knows something."

They read the email's body together.

【Have you siblings ever felt that you guys were born into the wrong world?】

"Great. He knows our hearts."

"At least it's not another cheap invitation."

"Too true."

Attached below it was a simple link. It didn't look anything special, and seem to lead to... probably some game. Nico wasn't particularly worried with viruses; though of course, it would mean that he did not safeguard his computer with several firewalls. Which he did, and checked it as often as he could. He sat on his chair and let Hazel sit on the desk, switching the screen to show that email and clicked on the link.

It showed a plain online chess game.

Hazel squinted. "Really?"

"Really."

Though looking quite dead, Hazel managed a smile and blew a few strands of curly hair out of her faces. "Think you can...?"

"I beat Grand Masters for breakfast."

It was a record. A record he couldn't take for real. One step outside still costs them a head. Nico made his first move, Hazel watching intently. Nico knew what she was doing, reading through every move, calculating in advance. He also knew that she should be the one playing, knew that Hazel knew she should be the one playing.

But for Hazel to keep up this renewed energy, she needed a break. This, allowing herself to only calculate at the side, suggest a move or stop one, was an a-okay substitute. Somewhere in the hours they switched. Somewhere in the hours Nico started feeding Cheetos to Hazel, piece by piece. If Nico's eyes talked they'd be complaining.

They finally won after seven hours.

Hazel fell on the desk, loud. She didn't even say any "Ouch!" or "It hurts..." She's really tired. Nico pursed his lips and stroked her hair. "You won, dear sister."

"We... did... 『』..."

It was a joke, their title. 『』. Children of darkness, of emptiness. The void. Nothing. Nothing. Blank. Nothing. But no one wanted to die knowing nothing. No one wanted to leave knowing they did nothing to change their lives. So did Nico. That's why he learned how to play the game, the safer game, why he wanted Hazel to learn with him, why they strive to be on top without any black spots. It was hard work—they weren't children of the Wise Goddess—but it was fun. They smiled and laughed after a long time, and Persephone knows how much it made Hades happy.

So happy that he willfully drowned them in games, reported they were dead somewhere, the bastards like that all too well. And thanks to the gods unchanging rules no one could properly monitor them on the webs. No. That was too risky even for a god. The god of Death couldn't even Skype them for more than five minutes without hiding somewhere safe. They heard that the only thing the Wine God played these days was a PacMan machine.

A new email popped up on the screen. Same sender from earlier.

【As expected, 『』. You really are good. It's a waste that such talents... are left in the darkness.】

They exchanged glances.

Was it possible that their father could somehow see this in the palace? He gave them this PC set laced with magic. What would he make of this?

"Trying to provoke us," Hazel pointed out.

Nico typed in a reply, heedless.

【This is the only way we can enjoy the cursed life we have. Why do you care anyway?】

Shortly after sending it came another email.

【What do you guys think about this world? Is it interesting? Is it a place worth spending your life in?】

"He must be joking," Nico decided. He was about to turn off the PC when another email came through.

【What if a world where everything was decided by games truly existed? The whole world above a game board, where the objectives and rules were clear. What do you think?】

They exchanged looks again. And together they typed in a response.

【Then we'd rather be there. Right now.】

As soon as they hit Send, static took over every screen. Strange points of light seeped through the walls. More appeared every second, breaking the walls.

"Impossible..." Nico whispered.

They could hear thundering cracks coming everywhere.

"Earthquake?" Hazel asked, clutching his arm. He squeezed her hands. They were cold with fear.

"I don't—we would've—"

The floor gave way and they started falling...

But not towards a hotel room right beneath them, like what they expected.

But towards the wide, pastel-like sky adorned with gigantic chess pieces, leaving the stars and the planets and the galaxies and a disintegrating box which was their old life behind them.

#fic; moi #***#god's game; fic #ngnl #ngnl au #no game no life #hoo #heroes of olympus #hoo au #nico di angelo #hazel levesque #pjofic #hoofic

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