#nh13 x reader

[hockeyluvrr]

sports car || nh13

series masterlist main masterlist

summary: You know exactly what this is—late-night drives, stolen glances, something that never quite crosses the line. But when Nico calls you after a tough game, voice low and tired, asking if you want to go for a ride, you don’t hesitate. This time, though, the tension is different. This time, he doesn’t want to take you home. And when restraint finally snaps, you realize maybe neither of you wanted to hold back in the first place.

warnings: smut (18+ mdni), semi public sex, car sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it my dudes), tension…I think that’s it idk

author’s note: so this was originally supposed to be around 2,000 words but I got carried away and ended up with basically 3 times that…enjoy I guess 😭

word count: 6,888

The city hums around you, headlights cutting through the thick Newark night like neon veins. Inside Nico’s car, it’s quieter—just the low thrum of the engine and the occasional sound of his fingers tapping the steering wheel. The air smells like leather, cologne, and something expensive you can’t name. He drives like he plays hockey—smooth, controlled, always knowing exactly where he’s going, even when you don’t.

You shouldn’t be here.

But you are.

“You’re quiet,” Nico murmurs, eyes flicking toward you before turning back to the road. His voice is low, laced with something unreadable.

You exhale, watching the city blur past. “Just thinking.”

He hums in acknowledgment, his grip tightening slightly on the wheel. “Dangerous.”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips, but you don’t let it show. There’s a weight in the car, heavier than the silence, thicker than the tension stretching between you both. You wonder if he feels it too. If it coils in his chest the same way it does in yours—hot, insistent, impossible to ignore.

“You’re tired,” you say instead. “Long game?”

He sighs, tilting his head back against the headrest for just a second before refocusing. “Yeah. One of those nights.”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. It’s always one of those nights when he calls you. When he shoots you a text—Can’t sleep. You up?—and you tell yourself you shouldn’t answer. That you shouldn’t slide into the passenger seat of his car at 1 a.m. That you shouldn’t let him drive you through the city like you’re something fragile he doesn’t quite know how to hold.

But you always do.

The streets are mostly empty this late, just the occasional cab or someone stumbling out of a bar, but Nico keeps driving, like there’s somewhere he wants to go but hasn’t decided yet.

Or maybe he just doesn’t want to take you home.

You steal a glance at him. He’s still in his post-game suit, tie gone, top buttons undone. There’s a hint of exhaustion in his face, but his hands on the wheel are steady, strong.

“Did you even shower after the game?” you tease, trying to lighten whatever this is.

His lips twitch. “Are you saying I smell?”

“No,” you say, even though there’s a trace of sweat, cologne, and something distinctly him lingering in the air. “Just wondering how desperate you were to get out of there.”

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “Didn’t feel like staying.”

He doesn’t say why.

But you know.

You press your head against the cool glass, watching the lights smear against the dark sky. “You played well.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah. You always do.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he shifts gears, and the low growl of the engine fills the silence. You swear his fingers tighten on the wheel again.

“Not always,” he mutters.

You turn to look at him, but his gaze is locked on the road, jaw tight. There’s something unspoken in his words, in the way his grip flexes, in the way he won’t meet your eyes.

You know this version of Nico—the one who carries the weight of a whole team on his shoulders, who never lets himself falter, who never gives himself enough credit. You’ve seen him like this before. But every time, it makes something twist in your chest.

The car hums beneath you, the city stretching out in every direction. Neither of you say much, but that’s always how it is. Nico isn’t the type to fill silence just for the sake of it, and you’ve learned to be okay with that.

But something about tonight feels different.

He drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting against his thigh, fingers tapping lightly—like he’s working through something in his head.

You shift in your seat, pulling your coat tighter around you. “Where are we going?”

Nico exhales, glancing at you briefly before turning back to the road. “Nowhere. Just… driving.”

It’s not an answer, but it’s the truth.

You watch the way the streetlights reflect in his eyes, the sharp line of his jaw when he clenches it. He’s tense. Maybe from the game, maybe from something else. You wish he’d just say it—whatever’s on his mind.

Instead, you ask, “You ever gonna let me drive this thing?”

His lips twitch. “Not a chance.”

You smirk. “What, don’t trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone with my car,” he says, side-eyeing you. “Especially not you.”

You place a dramatic hand over your heart. “Wow. I’m offended.”

His low chuckle fills the space between you, something warm slipping into the tension. It makes your chest tighten. Because this is how it always goes—this push and pull, this unspoken something between you.

You wonder if he feels it too. If it keeps him up at night the way it does you.

You turn toward him, studying his profile. “You okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His jaw shifts, fingers flexing slightly against the wheel. “Yeah. Just—” He exhales sharply. “Long night.”

You nod. You know what he means, even if he won’t say it outright.

There’s something about Nico—something about the way he carries everything so quietly, so carefully. Like he doesn’t want to let anyone see the cracks. Like if he lets go for even a second, everything might come apart.

And maybe that’s why he called you tonight.

Maybe that’s why you came.

The car slows as he pulls off onto a quieter street, the glow of the city fading behind you. You glance at him, brows furrowing. “Why’d you stop?”

His hands tighten around the wheel. “Just—don’t wanna take you home yet.”

And god. You shouldn’t feel your pulse jump at that.

But you do.

Your breath catches for half a second.

It’s not like he hasn’t said things like this before—things that toe the line of something more. But tonight, it feels different. He isn’t smirking, isn’t teasing. He’s just looking at you, fingers still curled around the wheel like he’s trying to decide if he should let go.

You shift in your seat, watching the way his throat bobs as he swallows. “Okay,” you say softly.

He nods once, as if settling into the decision. Then he cuts the engine. The sudden quiet is deafening.

For a moment, neither of you move. The streetlights cast sharp shadows across his face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders. You think about how many times you’ve been in this car with him—how many times you’ve told yourself it doesn’t mean anything.

But sitting here now, the air thick with something unspoken, you can’t lie to yourself anymore.

“You ever gonna tell me why you call me when you can’t sleep?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Nico’s fingers flex against his thigh. His gaze flicks to you, then away again. “I dunno,” he mutters. “Just… easier.”

“Easier than what?”

He shifts in his seat, one hand raking through his hair. His jaw clenches for a beat before he exhales. “Than being alone, I guess.”

Your chest tightens.

It’s an admission, but not the one you want.

You glance at the city outside, at the blurred neon signs and empty sidewalks. “That’s all this is?” you ask, hating how quiet your voice sounds.

Nico doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches for the dial, turning down the music that had been playing softly in the background. The quiet stretches between you, heavier than before.

And then—

“I don’t know what this is.”

The words are barely more than a murmur, but they hit you like a punch to the ribs.

Because that’s the thing, isn’t it? This thing between you has never had a definition. It’s late-night drives and stolen glances. It’s his hand on the small of your back when no one’s looking. It’s a text at 1 a.m. and an empty passenger seat that’s always waiting for you.

It’s nothing.

And yet it’s everything.

“You wanna figure it out?” you ask, pulse hammering in your throat.

Nico turns then, really looks at you. His gaze is darker now, more intense. His lips part slightly, like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers tighten around the gear shift, like he’s grounding himself.

Like he’s trying to stop himself from doing something he shouldn’t.

But you don’t think you want him to stop.

The air inside the car is suffocating now, thick with everything neither of you are saying.

Nico’s fingers tap against the gear shift—once, twice—before he exhales sharply and drags a hand over his face. “You know it’s not that simple.”

Your chest tightens. “Isn’t it?”

He doesn’t answer. Just stares at the windshield, his jaw locked, something unreadable flickering across his face.

And you get it. You do. He’s Nico Hischier—captain, leader, the guy who carries more weight on his shoulders than anyone realises. He can’t afford distractions, can’t afford complications.

But you’re right here. And he’s the one who keeps pulling you closer.

You shift in your seat, suddenly restless. “You always do this,” you mutter, shaking your head.

His gaze snaps to yours. “Do what?”

You let out a humourless laugh. “You call me in the middle of the night. You pick me up. You drive me around like you don’t wanna let me go—but then you sit there like this is some impossible thing.”

His jaw tightens. “You think this is easy for me?”

“I don’t know, Nico. You tell me.”

Silence.

A muscle ticks in his jaw, his fingers curling into a fist against his thigh. And then, suddenly, he moves.

Not away from you. Closer.

His hand lifts, just barely grazing your knee before stopping. Like he’s not sure if he should. Like if he touches you for real, there’s no taking it back.

Your breath catches.

“You think I don’t want this?” His voice is low, rough. Nothing like the careful, measured way he usually speaks.

Your pulse thrums against your skin. “Then why—”

“Because if I start something with you, I don’t know if I can stop.”

His words crash into you like a punch to the stomach.

Because this is it, isn’t it? The reason for all the late nights, all the stolen glances, all the times he’s looked at you like he’s already thinking about regret.

He’s been holding back.

And now, you’re not sure if he wants to anymore.

You shift, the space between you suddenly too small. “Then don’t,” you whisper.

Nico swears under his breath, his head tilting back against the seat like he’s at war with himself. His fingers flex again—like he wants to touch you, like he needs to.

And then—finally—he does.

His hand slides over your thigh, slow and deliberate, fingertips pressing into the fabric of your jeans. Not enough. Nowhere near enough.

Your breath shudders out of you. “Nico—”

His name on your lips is all it takes.

The next thing you know, his hand is cupping your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek. He’s close now, so close you can feel his breath against your skin. His eyes flick to your lips, dark and unreadable.

“You sure about this?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t even hesitate.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I’m sure.”

Nico doesn’t waste another second.

The second Nico closes the space between you, it’s like something snaps.

His lips press against yours—firm, searching—like he’s trying to make up for all the times he’s held back. His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss.

And god, you feel it everywhere.

The slow drag of his mouth. The heat of his palm against your skin. The way his other hand tightens against your thigh, fingertips pressing in like he’s anchoring himself. Like if he lets go, this whole thing might disappear.

You reach for him without thinking, fingers curling around the lapels of his suit jacket, tugging him closer. He lets out the faintest sound—a low hum against your lips—and something about it makes your stomach flip.

Nico pulls back just enough to look at you, his breath uneven. His forehead rests against yours, eyes dark, searching.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmurs.

Your fingers tighten around his jacket. “Then why didn’t you?”

He swallows, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “I don’t know. Because I’m an idiot, maybe.”

His voice is quiet, almost like he’s confessing something he shouldn’t. And you feel that—feel it in the way his fingers linger against your skin, in the way he looks at you like you’re something he’s afraid to lose.

But there’s no hesitation now. No more unspoken words, no more pretending. Just the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his touch, the heat building between you.

Your hand slides to the back of his neck, fingertips brushing against the soft hair there. “I’m not gonna go anywhere, you know,” you whisper.

Nico exhales sharply—like you just made a decision for him. And maybe you did.

Because the next thing you know, his lips are on yours again, hungrier this time, his hand slipping under the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing bare skin. A shiver rolls down your spine, your breath catching as he presses just a little closer, his body warm and solid against yours.

This is new, but it isn’t.

It’s every late-night drive. Every lingering glance. Every time his fingers brushed against yours just long enough to make you wonder if it meant something.

And now, you know.

Nico’s lips move to the corner of your mouth, then lower, skimming along the edge of your jaw. His breath is warm against your skin, sending a slow, burning ache curling through you.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs against your neck.

Your breath stutters, fingers tightening in his jacket. “Then show me.”

His grip on you tightens. “Careful,” he warns, voice rougher now, lower. “I don’t think you wanna test me right now.”

But god, you do.

You tilt your chin, letting his lips drag lower, just enough to make your pulse trip. “Maybe I do.”

Nico groans softly, his forehead dropping to your shoulder for half a second, like he’s trying to rein himself in. But then he exhales, pressing one last kiss to your skin before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

His eyes are darker now, his expression unreadable.

“Get in the backseat,” he says.

Your breath catches.

He watches you for a beat, waiting. And then—slowly, deliberately—he leans in, lips brushing against your ear.

“Now.”

And you don’t even think about hesitating.

Your pulse hammers in your throat as you move, the quiet click of your seatbelt unfastening echoing through the car. Nico watches you the whole time, his gaze heavy, unrelenting. There’s something electric in the air between you—something charged, buzzing under your skin.

You push open the door, stepping into the crisp night air for only a second before sliding into the backseat. The leather is cool against your legs, but the temperature shift does nothing to settle the heat curling low in your stomach.

And then—Nico is there.

The door shuts behind him, sealing you both inside this space that suddenly feels much smaller. The city outside is nothing but a blur of neon and darkness, but in here? It’s just him.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at you—the kind of look that makes you feel like you’re the only thing that exists. His jaw is tight, his breathing a little uneven, like he’s still deciding if he should let this happen.

Like he’s still holding on to that last shred of restraint.

But then you shift slightly, the movement pressing your thigh against his, and that’s all it takes.

Nico moves.

One hand finds your waist, the other tilting your chin up before his mouth crashes against yours. This kiss is different—desperate, all restraint gone. His hands tighten against you, fingers pressing into your skin like he needs to feel you, needs to prove that you’re real.

You let out a soft gasp, and he takes advantage of it, deepening the kiss until your head is spinning. His body is solid against yours, warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt, and god, you want to be closer.

Your fingers find the buttons of his dress shirt, tugging the fabric loose, and Nico exhales sharply against your lips. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, voice rough, strained.

You smirk against his mouth. “Good.”

His answering groan is low, barely audible, but then his lips are trailing lower—along your jaw, down the column of your throat. His hands slip under the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing bare skin, and you shiver, your breath stuttering.

Nico pauses, just for a second, his lips hovering over your collarbone. His breath is uneven, his grip on you firm but careful. Like he’s giving you a chance to stop this.

Like he needs to hear you say it again.

You tilt his chin up, forcing his eyes to meet yours. “I want this,” you whisper. “I want you.”

That’s all it takes.

Nico’s restraint snaps completely, and he’s on you—lips, hands, everywhere. His mouth finds yours again, hungrier this time, and you lose yourself in the feeling of it. The heat, the urgency, the way he touches you like he’s been waiting for this forever.

And maybe he has.

Nico kisses like he plays—all in, completely focused, like there’s nothing else in the world but this. But you.

His hands slide under your shirt, fingertips dragging over bare skin, slow and deliberate. He’s not rushing—he’s taking his time, like he’s memorising the way you feel beneath his touch.

And god, it’s almost too much.

Your back hits the leather seat as he leans into you, his weight pressing against yours, warm and solid and so damn good. His lips trail lower, grazing the sensitive spot just beneath your jaw, and you feel the shiver roll through you before you can stop it.

Nico notices.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. His tone is somewhere between teasing and concerned, but the way his fingers tighten on your waist tells you exactly what it does to him.

You exhale sharply, your hands fisting in the fabric of his half-unbuttoned shirt. “Not my fault you’re—” You break off with a gasp as his lips press just below your ear.

Nico smirks. “That good?”

Cocky.

You roll your eyes, tugging him down into another kiss, letting your teeth scrape against his bottom lip just enough to make him groan. “Shut up, Hischier.”

His laugh is low, rough. “Make me.”

Challenge accepted.

Your fingers push the rest of his buttons undone, dragging the fabric over his shoulders. His skin is warm beneath your hands, his muscles tensing slightly under your touch. He lets you explore for a moment, but then his hands are on you again, gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him.

And damn, he’s strong.

Your head tips back against the seat, breathing uneven, and Nico takes full advantage, his lips finding the curve of your collarbone. His hands slide lower, thumbs brushing just beneath the waistband of your jeans, and a sharp gasp escapes before you can stop it.

The sound of it goes straight to his ego, because he lifts his head, his lips ghosting over your ear, sending a shiver sparking through your body. "You make the prettiest sounds," he murmurs, voice a low rumble that sinks right down into your core.

You open your mouth to retort, but the only thing that comes out is another gasp as his hand slips lower, fingers skimming along the inside of your thigh.

Your head falls back again, and he takes advantage, pressing his lips against the exposed skin of your throat. He’s barely even touching you, and it’s already making you lightheaded.

“Nico,” you breathe, your fingers finding the back of his neck, trying to pull him closer.

“Hm?”

Nico smiles against your skin, his thumb rubbing small, slow circles against the sensitive skin on your thigh. Not quite high enough to give you what you want.

Tease.

Your hips shift involuntarily as his touch skirts higher, and he chuckles softly, ducking his head to press his face against the side of your neck. You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the way his body is still barely touching yours, and somehow, it’s already driving you crazy.

“You’re not getting impatient already, are you?” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your earlobe.

"Shut up," you mutter, but the words come out more breathless than you mean them to. You can feel him grinning against your skin, and goddamnit, you hate that he’s smug about this.

His thumb rubs another lazy circle just at the inside of your knee, his lips skimming over the hollow of your throat. It should be impossible that he can make you feel this much with so little touch, but his fingers are setting your nerve endings on fire, making your thoughts blur together around a single word: more.

"Patience is a virtue, you know." The smirk in his voice is evident, and you have half a mind to smack him for it.

"I’m not exactly known for my virtues," you retort, but the words falter as his hand skates just a little higher up your leg, and god, you’re sure he’s playing with you now.

"Clearly."

His lips move to the other side of your neck, nuzzling against the sensitive skin just below your ear. You shiver when his body presses against yours, sending a slow, burning ache coiling through you.

His thumb teases over the seam of your jeans, tracing mindless patterns as he hums against your neck. "You always this impatient?"

"Only around you, apparently," you grumble, your grip on his shirt tightening as he chuckles softly.

The sound of it rolls over you like a wave. You hate that you love it—how affected you are just by his touch, his voice, his goddamn proximity.

His teeth graze the spot just below your jaw, and a sharp gasp escapes you. You can feel the smirk against your skin, the way your body reacts to his, and you just know he’s enjoying this.

"That so?” His voice drops an octave lower, sending a shock of heat down your spine. “Guess I should feel honoured then, hm?"

And goddamnit, he’s cocky. You want to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, but all you can manage is a muttered curse as his thumb moves again. It stays there, just teasing, and you swear you almost whine.

He hears it—of course he does—and he chuckles again, the sound of it rumbling against your skin.

"You know, if you want something, you should ask nice

Your retort dies on your tongue when his thumb finally starts moving again. His lips are on your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses that are somehow too much and not enough all at once.

You’re barely holding it together, and he knows it. You can hear it in his voice, see it in the way his gaze keeps darting to your face, like he’s just waiting for you to crack.

“Ask nicely for what? This?” You mutter as you press your hand against the front of his dress pants to palm at his already hard cock, teasing him back.

His hands tighten against your waist on reflex, a low sound escaping him. The smirk finally disappears, replaced by a look of pure heat. It only makes you want to tease him more.

"Tease," he mutters, his grip on you tightening as you push him back against the leather seat. You brace a hand against the headrest, trapping him there, and his eyes darken as your thighs slide into place on either side of his thighs.

"You’re playing with fire," he says, but the warning is half-hearted at best. You watch a muscle in his jaw twitch when your hips shift, grinding down against him.

"Maybe I like it that way."

You lean down, catching his bottom lip between your teeth, grinning when his breath stutters at the contact. Then he’s kissing you, his hands sliding down your thighs, gripping with enough force to make you moan against his mouth.

He groans at the sound of it, and you can feel him growing harder beneath you. You press your hips down on purpose this time, and his fingers dig into your thighs, pulling you flush against him.

You’d give anything to see his self-control break for good.

This time, you can’t even hear his words in the rush of blood in your head. You’re all too aware of his hands on you, the way his body is hot and taut beneath yours, how he’s reacting to every tiny movement of your body.

But then he’s shifting, flipping you suddenly so you’re on your back, back pressed against the leather seat. He’s on top of you now, his body pinning you down, and you let out a little sound of surprise.

You open your mouth to speak, and your breath catches as he grinds his hips against yours—hard and deliberate. You’re fully aware of how he feels, of how much this is affecting him just as much as it is you.

"Are you gonna keep being a tease," he murmurs, his lips finding your jaw, "or are you gonna take what you want?"

He drops his head, lips dragging down your throat, and it takes all of your self-control not to arch up into him.

“Are you?”

You can feel his smile against your skin, smug, confident—cocky. He shifts slightly, grinding into you again, and you can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips.

"You wanna find out?"

“Yeah,” you can’t help but breathe out.

The smirk is back on his face, growing wider as his fingers skim beneath the hem of your shirt. You inhale sharply at the touch, goosebumps sparking across your skin, but he doesn’t stop there.

He tugs the fabric up, just enough to expose your stomach, and then his lips are on your skin—slow, teasing kisses across your ribs.

You shiver, your head tipping back against the leather. You can’t seem to think straight with Nico’s lips on you like this, his body pressed against your as he kisses and nips at the sensitive skin of your ribs.

Your hand slides into his hair, gripping the strands, earning a low groan against your stomach. He looks up then, his gaze dark and heavy, and god, you’ve never wanted anyone more.

He’s hovering just above your hip now, his nose skimming along the skin as his fingers dip under the waistband of your jeans. The feel of it makes you shiver, but he’s being too damn careful, his movements deliberate, like he’s trying to be good.

You don’t want him to be good.

You want him to crack.

You lift your hips slightly, desperate for any friction against your skin, but Nico’s hand presses you back down, a barely audible “patience” escaping him.

He’s still teasing, and you’re slowly losing your mind.

"You’re not being fair," you say, and his low laugh vibrates through you. You can feel the curve of his smile against your skin as he tugs gently at the button of your jeans.

"Not being fair would be me leaving you like this," he murmurs, teeth scraping over your hip bone. "You know, see how much longer you’d last."

You bite back a curse, your pulse racing at the thought. He hasn’t touched you where you want him yet, but every graze of his fingers has you reeling.

"You wouldn’t do that," you tell him, your breath catching despite your best efforts.

He hums noncommittally, his fingers undoing the button of your jeans now. He slips them off your hips just enough to expose a thin strip of your underwear, and this time a curse actually does fall from your mouth when his thumb skims along the edge.

His breath is hot against your skin. “You sure about that?”

You open your mouth to argue, but your words dissolve into a strangled gasp as his thumb brushes against your clit, and god, you swear your brain short-circuits for a minute.

He’s always had this kind of effect on you, but here in this car, barely hidden from the outside world, it’s more powerful than ever.

He murmurs something you don’t quite catch, and then his mouth is on your hip again, your hands grasping at nothing now, looking for something to ground you to reality.

His thumb presses back against you, a little firmer this time, and your breathing is almost too unsteady now. You try to form a coherent thought, but it’s impossible when he’s everywhere, lighting up every single nerve ending in your body.

His other hand grips your hip, holding you in place as his thumb moves in maddening, lazy circles, and you’re pretty sure he’s torturously, painfully aware of how much you want him.

“You’re already so worked up for me,” he murmurs, shifting to mouth at the spot just below your navel. “So goddamn sensitive.”

“Shut up,” you manage, but the words come out more strained than you mean them to, and you’re pretty sure he can tell.

He chuckles again, low and smug, and you want to wipe that stupid look off his face. But then he presses his thumb down against you again, just a little bit harder this time, and your thoughts go blank, replaced by a string of half-formed curses.

He’s driving you insane on purpose now, his thumb still moving in those torturous circles. You want to press against him, to relieve some of the desperate ache building inside you, but he’s still pinning you down and he’s not letting you.

The worst part is, he’s enjoying this, the cocky bastard. He’s doing it on purpose.

“Please,” escapes your mouth, and to your horror, it comes out as a whine.

He laughs softly against your stomach, and the sound of it makes you shiver all over again. This is borderline cruel, and he obviously knows it. “Please what, sweetheart?”

You bite back a frustrated curse, your hips involuntarily bucking up, searching for more.

“You know what,” you say, and this time your voice is more strangled, raw with need. “I swear, if you don’t—”

“If I don’t what?” he responds, feigning innocence as he nips at your hip again. His thumb is still moving maddeningly slowly, and you swear you’re going to combust if he keeps this up.

“Jesus, Nico—”

“What if I want to just tease you all night?” he murmurs, his mouth on your stomach again. “See just how desperate I can make you before you lose it completely?”

“Don’t really have time for that in a fogged up car parked in an abandoned car park,” you gasp out, tugging at his hair again.

He chuckles again, and the sound of it makes your shiver. He’s enjoying this far too much.

“True,” he concedes, but the deliberate motion of his thumb doesn’t change. “And it’s damn cold out here.” He tugs gently on your jeans. “Maybe we should take this somewhere else.”

“Absolutely not,” you scoff. “I swear if you don’t get inside of me soon—“

Nico goes still for a second, his fingers tightening on your hip. Your words take every last bit of his self-control away.

“That what you want?” he asks, his voice dark and low.

“You already know the answer to that.”

“I wanna hear you say it.” It’s a command, but the words are ragged, edged with a desperation that surprises you.

“Yes, it’s what I want.”

His hands tighten, and he’s suddenly everywhere, all at once. He lifts his head, looking down at you. Your breath is uneven, and you’re sure you look a mess.

“You’re sure?” He asks again, his gaze flickering over your flushed face, searching.

“Nico…please—“

He doesn’t need any more than that.

Everything happens fast, the sounds of unzipping and clothes being pulled off almost too loud in the cramped space. He shifts, pulling you onto his lap, and you shiver at the feel of his skin against yours.

Nico’s hands are on your thighs, fingers pressing into the flesh, and the position you’re in makes your breath hitch. You’re straddling his lap, your body pressed flush against his, and it’s too damn much.

His mouth is on your collarbone now, his teeth scraping at the skin, and you can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your mouth.

You’re pressed so close that you can feel every movement, every breath. You’re hyper-aware of the way he’s reacting to you, the way his fingers curl into your thighs with enough force to leave bruises.

He’s leaving marks all over your skin, everywhere his mouth can reach.

“Nico—“ you try to say, but his hips move up on purpose, and the rest of your words dissolve on your tongue as he swiftly, but slowly pushes his cock into you.

His lips are back on your neck, his teeth grazing the skin, and you shiver. His hands are on your hips again, moving in slow circles as he guides you to move against him.

He’s driving you out of your goddamn mind, and he knows it. He’s doing it on purpose.

Your head falls back against the window, your breath catching as he repeats the motion, grinding his cock into you again.

“You’re so goddamn sensitive,” he murmurs against your throat. “I could make you cum just like this, if I wanted to.”

The words make your walls clench around him, and my god, he feels it. He groans softly, the sound muffled against your skin.

He’s all over you, hands on your hips, your waist, fingers digging into flesh. You’re already so sensitive and he’s only just started.

You shift on his lap, your fingers gripping his shirt again as you tilt your head, searching for his mouth.

The change in angle lets his tongue slide into your mouth, and you moan against his lips, a sound you’re not sure you even recognise as your own.

He swallows the sound, the movement of his hips growing rougher now, and you swear your head is swimming.

His hand moves between your bodies, making you all too aware of his fingers moving against you, your breathing getting faster, shallower, as he moves against you.

“You’re already so wet,” he says, right against your ear, and the sound of his voice makes your stomach clench. “I bet you’re close, huh?”

You manage to shake your head, not quite trusting your words right now. You’re too far gone, the feel of his body and his hands and his goddamn mouth overwhelming you to the point of not being able to form words.

He can probably tell, judging by the smirk against your throat. “No? Are you sure about that?”

His fingers move again with purpose, thumb pressing down against you, and you can’t help the moan escaping your mouth. Goddamn him and his stupidly talented fingers. He knows exactly what to do, exactly where to touch, exactly how to make you squirm. And he’s enjoying every damn second.

He tugs your earlobe with his teeth, his voice right against your ear. “Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “let go for me.”

The words almost do you in, but you’re stubborn, and you’re determined to hold out for as long as possible just to make him keep going. “Not yet,” you gasp out, your fingers gripping his shirt.

“Not yet?” He hums softly, his thumb doing an even slower, more deliberate circle. “I don’t know, sweetheart, you’re already squeezing and leaking all over my cock.”

His words make you shiver again, and damn him, he probably feels it. “I’m not that close,” you insist, but it sounds weak even to your own ears.

He’s laughing softly now, the sound low and ragged against your throat. “Liar.” His teeth scrape along the line of your collarbone.

There’s no point in denying it anymore—he probably knows more than you do at this point. You’re right on the edge, your body coiled tight, and he’s enjoying that fact a little too much.

You’re gripping his hair hard now, desperately trying to hold on to some sense of control. His thumb is moving faster, and every tiny movement makes your body shudder. You’re so damn close, the edge of that blissful oblivion within reach.

“Nico—“

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, his voice just as strained as yours now. “I wanna hear you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”

“You…you too…” you manage to practically whimper out.

“You want us to cum together?” He asks, and the low raspy sound of his voice in your ear only spurs you on more. You’re nodding, not trusting your words in the slightest.

His mouth finds yours again, his tongue sliding into your mouth, hot and desperate. He’s holding on to whatever control he has left, his body taut under yours, and you realize he’s already close.

You shiver at the thought. You want to cum together, want to push him over the edge with you. Just thinking about it sends an extra jolt of heat through you, making you gasp against his lips.

“Please,” you manage to breathe out, your voice ragged and broken. “I’m so close, I—“

“I know, sweetheart.” His mouth finds the spot just below your ear again, nipping gently. “God, I know. I’ve got you, okay? Let go for me.”

His thumb is moving again, faster than before, and you can’t hold on anymore. You’re right on the edge, the sensations all too much, your body trembling as you cum hard. You’re saying his name, a litany of broken syllables, and he’s murmuring something against your ear but you can’t quite make it out.

You’re still shuddering through the aftershocks when you feel him twitch inside you, his hands grasping at your body as he cums deep inside you.

You lay against him for a moment, both of you trying to catch your breath, the air in the cramped space heavy and thick.

His arms wrap around you, his breathing slow and steady again, his lips brushing against your forehead. You’re still trembling, your heart still hammering in your chest, but you’re too blissed out to form words.

Nico’s arms tighten around you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “You okay?” he asks, his voice soft.

You manage to nod, your head still against his chest. “Yeah,” you breathe out after a minute. “Just…give me a minute. My brain is still rebooting.”

He laughs softly, and you can feel the vibrations reverberating through to you. “I might have done a number on you, huh?” He sounds unfairly smug, and you pinch his arm in retaliation.

“Don’t get too cocky.” You’re grumbling, but there’s no real annoyance behind the words. He’s right, and you damn well know it.

“Me?” He feigns innocent surprise, his hand slipping down to the small of your back. “Me? Cocky? Never.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re too relaxed to be truly irritated with him right now. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” You press a kiss against his chest, your fingers tracing lightly over his skin.

He hums softly, his fingers sliding up to your hair, playing with the strands absentmindedly. He’s still caught in that lazy, relaxed state, content in the quiet afterglow.

You’re silent for a moment, just enjoying the sound of his breathing and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. “I should probably move,” you say finally. “This car is starting to get cold, but I don’t think I’m quite capable of moving on my own yet.”

He laughs softly, and you feel the sound all the way to your core. “It is getting pretty cold,” he agrees. “We should get out of here.”

He starts to shift, moving to sit up. His hands slide to your hips, gently lifting you off his cock.

You shiver as your bare skin hits the cold air, and Nico grabs his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders. It’s a little too big, but it’s still warm with his body heat, and you pull it tighter around yourself as he pulls your panties and jeans back into place.

He pulls his own boxers and dress pants up, his shirt rumpled from where you’d been groping at it earlier. His hair is a little mussed, too, and the sight of it makes you smile. It’s nice to know you managed to wreck his composure, even if just a little bit.

He catches you looking, and a smirk spreads across his face. “Enjoying the view?”

“Always.”

[theonottsbxtch]

BY THE WATER (MINE) | NH13

an: this is my first hockey fic and i forgot how much i loved writing about hockey players, anywhom this is apart of my 2k celly so enjoy a nico hischier fic - requested here.

wc: 3.4k

summary: she was just a uni student trying to outrun her past; nico was the rising rookie who never expected to fall. through late-night arguments, quiet mornings, and the ache of becoming, they built something neither of them had known they needed.

THE RESTURANT WAS HALF-EMPTY, the lull between dinner and late-night stragglers stretching into silence. She wiped down a table near the window, the hum of conversation from the bar blending into the low murmur of music overhead. Outside, rain misted against the glass, soft and unrelenting, coating the city in a dull sheen.

She had been here for six months now. Long enough to know which streets stayed busy after dark, which coffee shops opened earliest, which buses ran late. But not long enough to call it home. She wasn’t sure if she ever would.

The door swung open, letting in a gust of cold air and the low rumble of male voices. She glanced up out of habit, barely paying attention. Just another group of customers, another few hours to get through before she could go home, curl up under her duvet, and pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Except one of them stood out.

He was tall, lean but built like an athlete, his dark jacket doing little to hide the broad set of his shoulders. His hair was damp from the rain, pushed back in a way that made it look like he hadn’t thought about it at all. And maybe he hadn’t, there was an ease to him, the kind that came with knowing exactly who he was.

She recognised him. Not because she followed hockey, but because in a city like this, it was impossible not to hear his name. Nico Hischier. The Swiss rookie making waves in the NHL, the kid who had come from across the world and slotted into the team like he had been there forever. She had heard the customers talking about him, seen his face on TV screens when the matches played in the background of the bar. But up close, he didn’t look like the headlines made him sound, unstoppable, relentless, a rising star.

He just looked… young.

Like he was still getting used to all of this. Like the noise around him hadn’t quite settled into something real yet.

His friends took a booth near the back, but he hesitated, glancing around like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to sit or leave. His gaze landed on her for half a second, just long enough for a flicker of something, recognition, curiosity, before he looked away.

She straightened, gripping the damp cloth in her hand a little too tightly. It wasn’t the first time someone like him had walked through these doors. An athlete, someone who had already found their place in the world while she was still trying to carve out hers

It was the first time she had felt like it might matter.

She took her time approaching the table, tucking her notepad into her apron as she wove between empty chairs. The restaurant had emptied out even more, leaving only a few late-night diners scattered across the room. His friends were talking, their voices low and easy, but he wasn’t joining in. Instead, he was looking out of the window, watching the rain streak against the glass.

When she reached them, she pulled out her notepad. Professional. Detached. Just another table.

“What can I get you?”

His attention snapped back to her. Up close, his eyes were sharper than she’d expected, brown, but not the bright, striking kind. Deeper, more thoughtful. He didn’t speak straight away, letting his friends order first. Only when they turned to him did he glance back at her, the faintest trace of hesitation before he finally said, “Just a coffee.”

His accent was there, but not heavy. A mix of European influences, soft around the edges.

She nodded, jotting it down before disappearing behind the bar. When she returned, balancing a tray of drinks, his friends had fallen back into conversation, laughing at something she hadn’t heard. He was still quiet, fingers tapping idly against the edge of the table.

When she placed the coffee in front of him, his eyes flicked up again. “Thanks.”

She hummed in response, turning to go—

“You don’t follow hockey.”

It wasn’t a question. She paused, surprised, before looking back. He was watching her properly now, head tilted slightly like he was trying to figure something out.

“No,” she admitted. “I don’t.”

His lips twitched. Not quite a smile. “Everyone in this city does.”

She lifted a shoulder, shifting her weight. “Guess I missed the memo.”

One of his friends called his name then, dragging his attention away. She used the moment to leave, returning to the counter where she could breathe again.

She had been right about him. He wasn’t like the others who walked in here, loud, arrogant, carrying themselves with the kind of swagger that came with knowing the whole city was watching.

He was something else. Something steadier, quieter.

And she wasn’t sure if that made him easier to ignore or more dangerous.

It became a habit.

He came in late after practice, sometimes alone, sometimes with teammates. Always sitting near the window, always ordering coffee. And somehow, without meaning to, she started sitting with him when her shift was slow, letting their conversations stretch longer each time.

He asked her about university, about the classes she hated and the ones she didn’t mind so much. She asked him about Switzerland, about what it was like to leave home behind. He never talked much about hockey, and she never asked.

One night, they walked out at the same time. The rain had stopped, but the streets still glistened under the glow of the streetlights. He fell into step beside her, hands shoved into his pockets, his body carrying the slightest stiffness, tired, maybe, after a game she hadn’t watched.

“Where are you headed?” he asked.

“Home.”

He nodded, like he had expected that. Then, after a pause “Come with me.”

She blinked. “Where?”

His gaze flicked ahead, towards the river that cut through the city. “Just for a bit.”

She should have said no. She always said no when someone asked her somewhere. But tonight, with the cold air crisp against her skin and the world stretched quiet around them, she found herself hesitating.

“Alright.”

And just like that, she followed.

They reached the water, leaning against the railing as the lights reflected in broken patterns across the surface. He exhaled, the sound barely audible, like he had been holding something in all night.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he admitted suddenly.

She turned to him. “The restaurant?”

His lips twitched again. That almost-smile. “No. Here. In this city. In this league.”

She frowned. “You don’t think you should be?”

A muscle in his jaw shifted, like he wasn’t used to saying these things out loud. “It happened too fast. One minute I was playing back home, the next I was here. People expect things now. Like I’m supposed to be…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Unstoppable?” she guessed.

He huffed out a quiet laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Something like that.”

She didn’t know much about hockey, but she understood pressure. Understood what it felt like to carry expectations that weren’t yours to begin with.

“Maybe you’re just meant to be here,” she said finally.

He looked at her then, properly, like he was trying to believe it.

She didn’t look away.

And when he shifted slightly closer, when his arm brushed hers against the railing, she let him.

The weeks blurred into something familiar.

She saw him more often now. Sometimes at the restaurant, sometimes outside of it. Late-night walks along the river became routine, conversations stretching into the early hours until she could barely keep her eyes open in lectures the next day. She told herself it was nothing, that he was just someone to pass the time with, that it wasn’t real.

But then there was the first time she saw his place.

She hadn’t meant to go. Hadn’t planned on it. But it had been late, and they had both been exhausted, and when he had mumbled, Just stay for a bit, she hadn’t found the strength to argue.

It was a flat in a high-rise, modern and minimal, the kind of place that had been picked for him rather than one he had chosen himself. There wasn’t much personality to it. No photos, no clutter. Just a few unpacked boxes in the corner, like he hadn’t fully decided if this was home yet.

“You’ve been here for months,” she had said, nodding towards them.

He had shrugged. “Don’t need much.”

And maybe that was why, weeks later, when she found a drawer of her things in his bedroom, a spare hoodie she had left behind, a book she had fallen asleep reading, a bottle of perfume she had forgotten, something inside her shifted.

She hadn’t been looking for permanence. But somehow, without meaning to, she had found traces of herself in his world.

And then, just as easily, reality seeped in.

They had nothing figured out.

She was still balancing shifts at the restaurant with essays she could barely focus on. He was everywhere. On the ice, in the media, caught up in a world that never seemed to slow down. There were mornings when he was gone before she woke up, nights when he came back too late to do anything but press a tired kiss to her forehead before collapsing into bed.

She tried not to let it get to her.

But there were moments when it was hard.

Like the night she waited for him after a game, standing outside the arena long after the final whistle had blown. She wasn’t sure why she had come. She never did, but something had pulled her there, a need to see him when he was at his best, when the rest of the world was watching too.

But when he finally emerged, surrounded by teammates and flashing cameras, he barely saw her.

He was smiling, laughing at something someone had said, moving through the crowd with the kind of confidence that came with belonging.

And she didn’t.

She turned before he could notice her, before she could let herself feel stupid for thinking he might have been looking for her too.

Later, when he showed up at her door, breathless and still in his post-game suit, she didn’t mention it.

But the doubt had settled. And it was only a matter of time before it broke through.

The fight came out of nowhere.

It had started with something small, something neither of them would remember in the morning. But then it spiralled, long-held frustrations spilling over, words sharper than they should have been.

"You don’t get it,” she snapped, arms folded tight across her chest. “You have everything. You’re living the dream while I’m—” She cut herself off, biting back the rest.

His expression darkened. “While you’re what?”

She hesitated, jaw tight.

He took a step closer. “You think this is easy for me? That I don’t worry about losing it all? That I don’t—” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “I never know if I’m doing the right thing.”

She swallowed. “Neither do I.”

Silence settled between them, thick and heavy.

Then, barely above a whisper. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

His face shuttered, something flickering in his eyes before he looked away.

She turned first, stepping back, reaching for the door. If she left now, she could pretend none of this had happened. Pretend it hadn’t hurt.

But then—

"Nico, just—" Her voice wavered.

He caught her wrist before she could move. Not tightly. Just enough to make her stop.

When she turned, his expression had softened, the frustration slipping into something more raw. More desperate.

“I don’t want this to be a mistake,” he said.

Her breath caught.

His fingers loosened, but he didn’t let go completely. “Do you?”

She should have walked away.

She didn’t.

The door clicked shut behind her, but she barely heard it over the pounding in her chest.

She needed to leave.

Needed to get out before she said something she couldn’t take back, before she let herself believe that this, them, wasn’t already falling apart.

Then, before she could doubt herself once more. She pulled away from him and opened the door once more. Men like him never went chasing after women like her, she’ll go and cry, he’ll sit there and find another girl. Wasn’t that what she’d spent her whole life witnessing.

The city was cold, the air sharp against her skin as she walked blindly down the pavement. It was late enough that the streets were nearly empty, just the occasional car passing by, headlights slicing through the dark. She focused on the sound of her own footsteps, on the rhythmic scuff of her trainers against the wet concrete.

She didn’t hear him coming.

Didn’t realise he had followed until his voice cut through the quiet.

“Wait.”

She froze.

He was breathless when he reached her, like he had run the whole way. He hadn’t even grabbed a coat, standing there in just his hoodie and joggers, his hair still a mess from where he had run his hands through it.

“What are you doing?” she asked, voice tight.

He stared at her like she had said something ridiculous. “Coming after you.”

She swallowed, turning away, but he stepped forward, cutting off her retreat.

“I love you.”

The words landed like a punch. She sucked in a sharp breath, her heart stumbling over itself.

He didn’t waver. Didn’t try to soften it. Just stood there, steady and unshaken, his hands curled into fists like he was willing to fight for this.

“I love you,” he said again, quieter this time. “And I don’t care how messy this gets, I don’t care if we have nothing figured out. I just—” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I need you to know that.”

She closed her eyes. “Nico—”

“No,” he cut in, stepping closer. “You think I have everything, but I don’t. Not without you.”

Her throat tightened.

“I don’t know what I’m doing half the time,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I’m making the right choices, or if any of this will last. But you? Us? That’s the one thing I’m sure of.”

The fight drained out of her all at once, her shoulders slumping.

And before she could second-guess herself, she reached for him.

His arms wrapped around her instantly, like he had been waiting for it, holding her tight enough that she could feel the rapid thud of his heart against hers.

She didn’t know how long they stood there, tangled up in each other, letting the city move around them.

Eventually, he pulled back just enough to look at her properly. “Come back inside.”

She hesitated. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she was scared. Scared that history would repeat itself, that love would always be something temporary. Liek her parents.

But when he laced their fingers together, warm and certain, she let him lead her back.

They sat on the floor of his flat, backs against the sofa, knees brushing.

Neither of them spoke for a while, the only sound the occasional drip of rain against the window.

Then, quietly, “My parents never got it right.”

Nico turned to her.

She stared ahead, picking at the hem of her sleeve. “They loved each other, I think. But they were never happy. They fought, left, came back. Over and over.” She swallowed. “I used to think love was just… something that slipped away. Something you couldn’t hold onto, no matter how hard you tried.”

Nico didn’t say anything, just reached for her hand, threading their fingers together.

She finally looked at him, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want us to be like them.”

He squeezed her hand. “We won’t be.”

She let out a shaky breath. “How do you know?”

“Because I love you,” he said simply. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

It should have scared her. Should have sent her running like it always had.

But with him, his steady hands, his steady heart, it didn’t feel like a risk.

It felt like something she could trust.

And when he leaned in, pressing the softest kiss to her temple, she let herself believe it.

She didn’t fall asleep that night.

Instead, they lay there side by side on the living room floor, his hoodie pulled around her shoulders, the weight of his arm draped across her waist like it was where it belonged.

It wasn’t glamorous. The flat still smelt faintly of take-away and damp rain, and her back ached from the hardwood. But there was something in the way he held her, like she was the one thing keeping him grounded, like this, the quiet, the closeness, was more important than anything else.

And for once, she let herself believe it could last.

The years didn’t pass without challenge, but they passed with meaning.

She graduated with a degree she had almost walked away from. The same week, Nico flew out to meet her, forgetting his media duties, having dropped everything just to be there in the front row, blurry-eyed and grinning like a boy who’d never been prouder of anything in his life.

They moved out of the flat six months later.

It had been time. Too many memories lingered there. Late-night fights, quiet make-ups, growing pains neither of them had known how to navigate. They found a smaller place in a quieter part of the city, where the windows let in warm morning light and the neighbours didn’t slam doors at 3AM.

She found work she loved. Something steady. Something hers. The kind of job that made her feel like she had finally stepped into her own life, not just existed on the edge of someone else’s.

And Nico?

He kept playing.

His name grew louder, his face on more screens, his jersey worn by kids who had never even heard of Swiss hockey before he arrived. He got that ‘C’ on his jersey like he’d dreamed as a boy. But no matter how far his world stretched, she remained the centre of it.

His grounding point. His girl.

There were days when he came home bruised and battered, eyes shadowed by exhaustion, shoulders heavy with pressure. She never asked him to explain it. She just curled into his side on the sofa, let his head drop to her lap, and ran her fingers through his hair until the tension melted away.

And when things felt too big. When the noise of the world threatened to drown him, he would whisper, Don’t let go, and she never did.

The proposal wasn’t a grand gesture.

There was no flash, no spotlight. Just the two of them, as it had always been.

It was autumn, the trees along the river burning gold, the same river they had walked beside that first night. He took her hand as they wandered beneath the leaves, the air crisp and the sky bleeding soft pinks into the horizon.

He was nervous. She could tell by the way he kept clearing his throat, fingers fidgeting slightly in his pocket.

She stopped, smiling faintly. “You alright?”

He nodded, then paused. “No.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No?”

He looked at her then, properly.

“You changed everything,” he said. “I came here thinking I had to prove something. That I needed to be someone I wasn’t ready to be. And then I met you. And suddenly, nothing else mattered.”

She felt her heart stutter.

“You’ve been my beginning,” he said, voice low, steady. “And I want you to be my always.”

And then, slowly, he pulled the ring from his coat pocket. Simple. Elegant. Her.

She didn’t cry. Not right away.

She laughed, because of course he’d be the one to say something that would undo her completely while standing in trainers and a hoodie that smelled faintly of his aftershave.

Then, she said yes.

Of course she did.

Because they hadn’t become her parents.

They had become them.

And when he slipped the ring onto her finger, she whispered something only he could hear, something about how he had been hers since that first cup of coffee, since that first moment he’d looked at her like he saw past everything she had tried to hide.

He kissed her like he remembered every second of it.

Because he had.

Because they were home.

the end.

taglist: @hzstry8 @isaadore

[oscquinn]

hii can i request tropes 11 and 15 for nico hischier? ty!

hi nonnie!! ofc, love this idea. only one bed + mutual pining. rated t. sexual references but no smut. very fluffy!!

nico watches you line up pillows one by one, creating a barrier between your bodies. he's propped against the headboard, one hand behind his head while he pretends to do something on his phone.

"there we go, that should be good." you admire your work before tucking yourself into bed. you face away from nico, you couldn't have him seeing you drool on the pillow, or your bangs sticking out in every direction.

"you know, i'm able to stay on my side just fine," nico mumbles. you feel the bed shift and know he's leaning over towards you.

you roll onto your back, momentarily distracted by his deep brown eyes. you stammer out your counter argument, "i-i don't wanna wake up to anything poking me."

nico laughs, low and hearty, and something blooms in your chest. "i can contain myself, too."

"men can't contain themselves," you scoff. "you're lucky i trust you, hischier."

nico smiles warmly, shimmying under the covers. "whatever makes you comfortable. sleep well, schatz."

your heart flutters at the nickname, wondering what it means. "goodnight nico," you whisper. you reach to turn off the hotel lamp, plunging the small room into darkness. all that's left is the sound of nico's breathing.

[toasttt11]

bruise

summary: reunited after a long road trip

request: “It’s not as bad as it looks like.”

nico hischier x reader

Nico barely had time to fully open the door before a body was barreling at him and he grunted for a split second at her hitting his chest but he didn’t care at the pain.

He was smiling more than he has in the past two weeks and immediately dropped his bags wrapping his arms around her and sighing in relief to finally be able to hold his girl again.

Nico just peppered kissed on the side and top of her head as he took a step forward kicking their front door close, “I missed you so much Schatz.” Nico breathed out inhaling the soft vanilla scent of her shampoo.

“I missed you to Neeks so so much.” She mumbled against his chest, she could cry with how happy she was to be back with her Nico.

They have dealt with many long road trips during their relationship but it never makes it easier or make them miss each other any less.

They both still have a shared countdown every time for when Nico will be home, even a small road trip.

“Are you hungry?” Her soft mumble was mumbled by his chest as she was pressing soft kisses to his chest not wanting to let go of him yet.

“No, maybe later.” Nico softly replied closing his eyes letting out a content sigh as his chin rested on her head, his girl was finally back in his arms.

“Cuddles?” She offered to him taking a deep breath as her nose filled with the cologne he’s always worn since she has know him.

“Yes.” Nico easily agreed, he immediately picked her up ignoring the twinge in his side because right now all he wanted was to hold his girl.

Nico let out a blissful sigh as she pressed a couple kisses across his cheek, jaw and neck.

Nico carried her into their bedroom and gently set her down on their bed and sadly let go of her and he cupped her face pressing a long but soft kiss to her for her making her hum and her eyes peacefully flutter shut, “One second Schatz.”

Nico stood all the way back up and started taking off his shoes and jacket. He changed his pants for a pair of sweatpants and he winced as he started taking his shirt off making her eyes immediately go to his face seeing a grimace.

She stood up just as he finished taking his shirt off and she noticed the dark purple bruises on his ribs.

She gasped softly and walked right to him, “Was this from the hit in the second?” Her fingers hovered off his bruise. She remembered the way he winced a bit after the hit.

“It’s not as bad as it looks like.” Nico quickly reassured her seeing her worried frown giving her a soft nod letting her fingers gently brush against his bruise, if anything her touch made it feel a bit better.

“Still.” She just softly mumbled and leaned down pressing a gentle kiss to his bruise making his hand brush across her hair looking down at her fondly.

“Come my love.” She grabbed his hand and softly pulled him to their bed, she will be worrying more about his bruise later but she will so they can cuddle as they both need to.

Nico just had a happy smile on his face as they got into their bed and he gets to hold his girl with no plans of moving for a good while.

[yvaineseleneposts]

Grill Sparks

A/N: I have been MIA for a little while. My uncle and godfather passed away and I was mourning. I am doing okay now and I am back! I hope you like this one!

Requested: no

Pairing: Nico Hischier x reader

Words: 3k

Warning(s): none

It was a perfect summer afternoon, one of those golden days where the sun hung lazily in the sky, casting everything in a warm glow. I wasn’t sure what had drawn me to the BBQ at first—maybe it was the promise of good food or the chance to hang out with friends—but I knew one thing for sure: I wasn’t expecting to meet him.

As I walked into the backyard, the air was filled with the delicious smells of grilled meat and the chatter of familiar voices. My friends were already clustered around, laughing and enjoying the easy camaraderie of a casual get-together. I was just about to grab a drink when my best friend, Sarah, waved me over.

“Hey, I want you to meet someone,” she said with a mischievous grin. She had that look in her eyes—the kind that meant she was up to something.

“Who?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll see,” she said with a wink and grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the grill. That’s when I saw him. Nico Hischier. He was standing near the edge of the grill, flipping burgers with the kind of effortless confidence that made it seem like he had been doing it his whole life.

I’m not sure what I expected, but he was definitely more captivating in person than I had imagined. He had the easygoing vibe of someone who was comfortable in his own skin, with a friendly smile that made him look approachable. His dark hair was tousled just right, and his casual black T-shirt clung to his athletic frame in a way that made it hard not to notice.

"Hey, Nico," Sarah greeted him, and he turned, his smile lighting up the space around us.

“Oh, hey Sarah!” His voice was warm, with just the right amount of energy. He didn’t seem forced or pretentious—just real.

“Meet my friend," Sarah said, nudging me forward, "this is [Y/N]."

I was suddenly aware of how awkward I felt. I held out my hand, trying to act cool, but I’m sure my nerves were written all over my face.

“Hi,” I said, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

Nico laughed softly, a sound that somehow made the summer air feel even warmer. “Nice to meet you. Are you here for the food, or the company?”

“Uh… both,” I said, laughing a little nervously. “Mostly the food, though.”

He chuckled, and I saw him glance at the grill with a look of pride. “Well, I’d say you came to the right place. But if you want, I can make sure you get the first plate. Just don’t expect me to grill a perfect steak. I’m still working on that.”

I felt a wave of relief wash over me. He wasn’t perfect, and that made him all the more real. We chatted for a few minutes, about the food, the weather, and then slowly, the conversation drifted to other things—random facts about our lives, what we were doing for the summer, and what we both liked to do in our free time.

As the afternoon wore on, it felt less like a formal meeting and more like we’d been talking for years. Nico had this easy way of listening, his eyes never leaving mine when I spoke. And there was something in the way he smiled after every sentence, as if he genuinely cared about what I was saying.

By the time the grill was empty, and everyone was settled around the picnic table, I realized just how much I didn’t want this day to end. Nico had this quiet, almost magnetic charm that pulled me in without even trying. It wasn’t just his looks—though, let’s be real, his smile was enough to make anyone’s heart skip—but the way he treated everyone around him. He was kind, funny, and surprisingly humble, despite the fact that he was a hockey star.

As the sun started to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the yard, I found myself standing next to him, a drink in hand, and a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

“Thanks for the food,” I said, playfully nudging him with my shoulder.

“Anytime,” he replied, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Next time, you’re grilling. I’ll let you have your chance to perfect your steak.”

I laughed. “Oh, no. I’m sticking to burgers for now.”

The evening continued on, with laughter filling the air, music playing softly in the background, and the occasional gentle breeze carrying the scents of the night. But in the middle of all of it, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Nico. There was something about him that felt easy—like we had known each other forever, even though this was only the beginning.

When it was time to leave, Sarah gave me an exaggerated wink, clearly noticing the subtle connection that had formed between us.

“See you around,” Nico said with a smile, the kind of smile that made my heart flutter just a little.

“I’d like that,” I replied, feeling the blush creeping up my neck.

As I walked away, I couldn’t stop thinking about how unexpected the whole encounter had been. The BBQ, the food, the people—it had all been great. But meeting Nico? That had been the best part of the day.

___

The days after the BBQ seemed to stretch on forever, each one filled with the usual routine of work, hanging out with friends, and the occasional trip to the coffee shop. But no matter how busy I kept myself, I couldn’t help but replay that afternoon in my mind. The way Nico smiled, the way he laughed, the way it felt so easy to talk to him. It was like the universe had decided to drop him into my life with perfect timing, and now I was left wondering whether I’d ever see him again.

I didn’t have to wait long.

It was a few weeks later when Sarah messaged me, inviting me to another get-together at her place. “Movie night. Everyone’s coming, including Nico. You in?”

I stared at the message for a moment, biting my lip. The butterflies I felt at just reading his name were undeniable. It was silly, really—this was just a movie night with friends. But I knew Nico would be there, and I didn’t want to miss a chance to talk to him again.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I replied, trying to sound casual, but I’m sure I failed miserably.

When I arrived that evening, the familiar sounds of laughter and chatter greeted me as I stepped into Sarah’s cozy living room. The lights were dimmed, and the scent of popcorn wafted through the air. There was a mix of people lounging around on couches, some sitting on the floor with blankets wrapped around them, and a few even sprawled out across the beanbags that had become a staple at every movie night.

And, of course, there was Nico.

He was sitting on the arm of the couch, his dark hair falling into his eyes in that effortlessly cool way. He looked up when I entered, and his face broke into that signature smile of his, the one that made my heart skip a beat every single time.

“Hey, you made it,” he said, his voice warm, like we’d just picked up where we left off last time.

I smiled back, my pulse quickening a little. “Yeah, wouldn’t miss it.”

Sarah appeared beside me with a grin that suggested she knew exactly what was going on. “Come sit with us,” she said, tugging at my sleeve, “We saved you a spot.”

I took a seat beside Nico, our knees almost touching as I settled in. The movie was already queued up on the TV, and the group was chatting about what they wanted to watch. But as the conversation swirled around me, I found myself focusing solely on Nico, the way his body shifted to get more comfortable, the way his laugh echoed through the room whenever someone cracked a joke.

“Didn’t think you’d make it to this one,” he said quietly, leaning toward me slightly. The subtle scent of his cologne, mixed with the faint smell of the popcorn, made everything feel more intimate, like we were sharing a secret in the middle of a crowded room.

I shrugged, trying to keep things light. “I couldn’t resist. You guys have good taste in movies.” I gestured to the screen, where someone was about to hit play. “What are we watching, by the way?”

Sarah leaned in, winking. “It’s a surprise. Just wait for it.”

Nico laughed softly. “It’s probably some rom-com, knowing her.”

“Hey!” Sarah protested, half-laughing, half-defensive. “Rom-coms are classic!”

The room settled down as the lights were dimmed further, and the opening credits rolled. The movie wasn’t a rom-com, surprisingly—it was a thriller, a psychological mystery that kept everyone on edge and laughing nervously at the intense scenes. But through it all, I couldn’t help but feel a connection with Nico that was slowly building.

Every time our hands brushed, or when he leaned a little closer to tell me his thoughts about the plot, my heart would flutter in a way I wasn’t used to. There was something about his presence, the ease with which he spoke, the way he seemed genuinely interested in the simplest things I said. It felt like we were in our own little bubble within the chaos of the movie night.

At one point, during a particularly tense scene, everyone jumped, and I found myself laughing nervously. Nico turned to me with a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Scared?” he teased.

I rolled my eyes, though I was trying to mask how much I had been startled. “No, just startled. You’re not going to make fun of me, are you?”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a soft smile. “I don’t know… maybe a little.” But his voice softened as he added, “But I get it. That part’s creepy.”

We both laughed, and I felt my nerves begin to ease. The night carried on in a blur of jokes, commentary on the movie, and easy conversation. At some point, the group split into smaller clusters, everyone discussing theories about the film and the characters. Nico and I ended up talking about everything and nothing—our favourite movies, hobbies, what we liked to do when we weren’t working or hanging out with friends.

“So, what do you do when you’re not playing hockey or hanging out with your friends?” I asked, genuinely curious.

He thought for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned back. “I’m pretty into cooking. I’m not a pro or anything,” he added quickly, “but I love trying out new recipes. Maybe next time, I’ll cook for you.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. “Cook for me, huh? You’re setting high expectations, Nico.”

He grinned. “I can handle the pressure.”

I laughed, and for a second, I didn’t care about the movie, or the group, or anything else in the room. It was just us, laughing together, sharing the simplest of moments.

As the night wound down and the credits rolled, people started to gather their things and prepare to leave. The mood had shifted from the energy of the movie to a quieter, more comfortable vibe.

“You going to stick around for a bit?” Nico asked as I was grabbing my jacket.

“Yeah, I think so,” I replied, feeling a mix of hesitation and excitement. “Maybe I’ll stay and help clean up.”

“I’ll help, too,” he said. “If you want company.”

The simple offer felt like the most natural thing in the world. And just like that, I realized that what had started as a casual meeting at a BBQ was becoming something I didn’t want to end.

As everyone else began to say their goodbyes, Nico and I found ourselves still chatting, cleaning up the snack bowls and straightening out the couch cushions. There was a quiet connection growing between us, one that felt more meaningful with every laugh, every shared story, every little glance.

And as I finally said goodbye to the night, I couldn't help but feel that this was only the beginning.

Maybe this was the start of something more than just a chance encounter. Maybe it was the start of something real.

____

It had been a few days since movie night, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Nico. We had hung out a couple of times since then, texting here and there, sharing random thoughts about life, and sending each other memes—mostly ones that made us both laugh until we couldn’t breathe. But despite the growing connection between us, I hadn’t exactly been sure where it was headed.

That was, until Nico sent me a message out of the blue: “Hey, want to go out for dinner this weekend? Just the two of us.”

I stared at my phone, rereading the message several times, trying to figure out if I was reading it wrong. Was this a date? A real, actual date?

I didn’t want to overthink it—if I did, I’d end up psyching myself out. So, after a brief moment of hesitation, I typed back: “Yeah, I’d like that. Saturday sound good?”

He replied almost immediately: “Perfect. I know a great little Italian place. I’ll pick you up at 7?”

7? I nearly dropped my phone. This was really happening. I tried to keep my cool, but my fingers were a little too eager to hit the keys.

“Sounds great. See you then.”

The day of our date felt like it took forever to arrive. I tried on three different outfits, but each time I felt like they weren’t “me.” Eventually, I settled on something simple: a flowy, off-the-shoulder top paired with dark jeans and a cute pair of boots. It was casual but still kind of dressed up. I wanted to look nice, but I didn’t want to overdo it.

By the time 7:00 rolled around, my nerves were a mix of excitement and the kind of jittery feeling you get before a big moment. When Nico pulled up outside my place in his car, I took a deep breath and walked outside to meet him.

He was standing next to his car, dressed in a dark jacket that somehow made him look even more effortlessly handsome than I remembered. His smile when he saw me was wide and genuine, and I felt the tension in my chest ease a little.

“You look amazing,” he said, his voice low, and I couldn’t help but blush.

“Thanks,” I replied, trying to sound cool but failing as I smiled back. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Nico chuckled and opened the door for me, giving me a small bow as I slid into the passenger seat. “I try my best,” he said with a grin.

The drive to the restaurant was comfortable. We chatted about everything and nothing—the usual easy banter that felt so natural between us. The sun had just set, casting a soft golden glow over the city streets, and there was a quiet kind of magic in the air that made it feel like this night was different from anything else.

When we arrived at the Italian restaurant, the cozy little place was exactly what I’d imagined—warm lighting, intimate tables, and the smell of garlic and fresh pasta filling the air. Nico led me inside, and we were seated at a small table by the window.

The evening passed in a blur of conversation, delicious food, and the kind of laughter that made everything feel right. We shared stories about our childhoods, our embarrassing moments, and our dreams for the future. It was easy—too easy—and the more I got to know Nico, the more I realized just how genuine and thoughtful he was.

At one point, he leaned in slightly, his eyes twinkling as he said, “So, you’re telling me you’ve never tried spaghetti carbonara before?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Nope. Never had the chance. What’s the deal? Is it life-changing?”

“Absolutely,” Nico said with a grin, then paused for a second. “Maybe we should fix that.”

I smiled, feeling my heart skip a beat. “Maybe next time.”

We spent the rest of the evening talking about everything and nothing, the hours slipping by unnoticed. As the dinner wound down, Nico reached across the table to grab my hand—his touch warm and comforting. I looked up, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, everything else in the world seemed to fade into the background.

“Thank you for tonight,” he said quietly, his voice softer than usual. “I really enjoyed this.”

I squeezed his hand. “Me too. It’s been… perfect.”

There was a pause, a tension that hung in the air between us, thick and almost electric. And then, without a word, Nico stood up, offering me his hand to help me out of my seat.

I followed him outside, the cool evening air hitting my skin as we walked toward the car. Nico opened the door for me again, his usual gentleman-like gesture making me smile. As we both settled into the car, I could feel the energy between us shifting—there was something more now, something undeniable.

When we reached my place, Nico parked the car and turned to face me. The night was quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the city in the distance.

“I had a great time,” he said again, his gaze locking with mine.

“Me too,” I replied, my voice quieter now, unsure of how to follow up.

For a few moments, neither of us spoke, and I could feel my heart racing in my chest. It was like we were both caught in this suspended moment, teetering on the edge of something more.

Nico’s hand reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering on my skin for a second longer than necessary. My breath caught, and before I could process the feeling, he was moving closer.

And then, with no more words, no hesitation, he leaned in and kissed me.

It was soft at first, tentative, as if he was waiting for some kind of signal. But the moment our lips met, it felt like everything clicked into place. The kiss deepened, slow and sweet, as if the world had stopped spinning just for us.

I could feel the warmth of his lips, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the way everything else seemed to fade away. It was perfect—intense and yet effortless, like we’d been waiting for this moment without even knowing it.

When we finally pulled away, both of us were breathless, our foreheads resting against each other for a moment, savouring the silence.

“Wow,” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.

Nico chuckled softly, his eyes still closed as if he didn’t want to break the spell. “Yeah. Wow.”

We didn’t say much after that, but somehow, we didn’t need to. The kiss had said everything we both felt in that moment—no more words necessary.

As he drove away, I watched his car disappear into the night, a smile playing at my lips. I couldn’t help but think that this was just the beginning of something incredible.

And for the first time in a long time, I couldn’t wait to see where it would go.

[stars1997]

https://www.tumblr.com/stars1997/754187410182733824/honeymooners

Pls do a part 2

Honeymooners

(Part 2)

Paring(s): Nico Hischier x Fem! reader

Warnings: SMUT!!! (18+), oral, Nico eats food off your body, hot tub sex

(Not edited)

Summary: What better way to celebrate a becoming husband and wife than fucking like rabbits on your honeymoon.

_

You have been at the beach all day. You make your way out of the water and back to Nico who had been relaxing on the loungers for the past few hours. When you finally reach him, he lifts his sunglasses to get a better look at you as you pick up your drink from the table next to him, finishing it.

“Would you like me to go and get you a new drink?” he sits up, moving his legs off out the lounger so now he’s facing you. you move closer to him so you’re now standing between his legs.

“That would be amazing!” you bend down to kiss him before moving out of his way so he can go get you a new drink.

-

It was now almost dinner time. Nico called room service and ordered the food for both of you. After being at the beach all day, you and Nico planned to relax back in the room.

You had just finished showering and getting dressed when Nico knocked on the door to tell you the food was there. When you walked out, you saw a huge cart of food in the middle of the room.

Nico grabbed the champagne and popped it open before pouring a glass for the both of you.

“That’s a lot of food, Nico. There is no way we’re going to be eating all that.” You remove the metal lids from some of the plates.

“Some of it is for later.” He sends you a wink before taking the rest of the lids off. There were two steaks with potatoes and mixed veggies, along with a couple of desserts.

“Nico!” you squeaked out his name, looking back at him in shock. He just sends you a boyish grin.

-

Nico had you on your back on the bed. His thumb rubbing your clit. He took the frosting from the chocolate cake and spread it on the inside of your thighs. He licks from your knee up to your core. Before he attached his lips to your clit. His finger moved down, thrusting them in and curling his finger up.

It didn’t take long for you to cum. He lifted away from you, looking up at your face. Your eyes are closed so you don’t see him take some of the frosting from the cake and smears it down your stomach. You let out a gasp.

“Nico! I’m going to be all sticky.” You look at him eyes wide.

“Oh, you’re going to be sticky tonight, but not because of the cake.” He gives you his cute smile as you try to swat at him, but he backs up before you could hit him.

“Just lay back and let me work” he lays his tongue flat on your stomach then licking up the line of frosting. His lips wrap around your nipple before giving it a tug with his teeth.

“I’m going to fuck you hard in this bed, then we are going outside into the hot tub, and you're going to ride me nice and slow” he kissed you on the before grabbing a pillow form above your head and sliding it under your hips.

He reaches his hand into his swim shorts and pulls out his cock before lining himself up with your entrance. He grabs one of your legs and rests it on his shoulder, his hand gripping your ankle. He slides in before grabbing your other leg and resting it on his other shoulder.

He didn’t give you much time to adjust before he started fucking into you. his thrusts are hard but slow. Your head falls back, and your eyes close as he brings his thumb to your clit. He slowly picks up the speed of his thrust. Your hands reach forward and touch his chest.

“Fuck, Nico.” He drops your legs down by his waist. Leaning forward and grabbing your chin in his hand before kissing you on the lips.

“You are so fucking amazing. My perfect girl.” He whispers in your ear. He lets go of your chin and brings his thumb down to your clit. You let out a loud moan. He picks up his pace, fucking into you faster.

You didn’t think you had anything left in you, but when Nico attached his mouth to your nipple, you felt all tension leave your body. You felt nothing but pleasure in that moment. You squirt all over Nico’s cock. you could feel Nico smirk against your boob.

As Nico slid his cock out of you, you let out a small whimper. He grabs your hand, pulling you so you are now sitting up. He nods his head in a way to let you know to follow him. he opens the sliding door to the back deck and makes his way over to the hot tub. He gets in, sitting down so he is facing you. you stand up off the bed and make your way over to him. His hand reaches for his cock, giving it a few tugs as you walk over.

You step down into the hot tub, climbing into Nico’s lap. You reach to grab his cock before sinking down onto him. He lets out a soft grunt as you grind against him.

“Fuck I’m not going to last as long as I thought.” He grips your hips helping you grind against him faster.

Your head falls back, and your hands grip his hair. He kisses your chest before resting his head on your shoulder. His soft moans in your ear bring you over the edge. He continues to rock your hips for a few more seconds before cuming inside you.

“Fuck I'm going to have a hard time when we go back home. Because what do you mean I can’t just spend all day fucking my wife.” He grabs your chin and pulls you in for a kiss.

-

You both spent the rest of that night in the hot tube talking about random stuff. You both finally got out of the hot tube, Nico wrapped a towel around you before picking you up and bringing you inside.

[rowdyluv]

Ik you said you see Jack and Quinn dating a plus size girly, but I also feel Nico would to

I agree!!! To be honest neeks (or luke) would probably be the movement starter/statement maker. 🤭 I worked super early this morning and it was SO slow….sooooo when i finished with my tasks i threw this together its not it is not edited, hope you enjoy ❤️

sensitive themes below the cut!!

866 words

"Remember the first one?" The interviewer leaned in, a glint of excitement in his eye. Nico nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "The first is always unforgettable, but this one meant a little more, we needed those goals,” he said, his voice echoing with the same energy as the night he first scored a natural hat trick. His eyes briefly drifted to his black Jersey sweater hanging in his locker, a silent witness to his triumphs back then as well as tonight. The room grew quiet as they all recounted the electric atmosphere of the stadium, the roar of the crowd, and the pure adrenaline that had fueled the team’s performance afterwards.

But the moment was cut short by a new voice, a sharp, nasal tone that pierced the nostalgic buzz like a misplaced slap shot. "Nico, I noticed your girlfriend in the stands tonight, and she's quite... substantial," the reporter said, her pen poised over her notepad like a knife ready to strike. Jack and Luke’s eyes widened in the corner of the room where they had been quietly observing. The two suddenly eager to jump up to the podium and speak for once, but were confident in their teammate, their sister’s boyfriend to turn this around.

Nico felt his stomach drop and his heart rate spike. The question was loaded, the kind that could turn the room colder than the ice beneath his skates ever was. He took a deep breath,swallowing hard, in an attempt to try and keep his cool.

"What I mean to say is, with your popular status in the NHL, you could have your pick of women. What keeps you with someone who... well, let's just say, isn't quite the typical 'hockey significant other'?" Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath, each cameramen's lense zooming in, eager for his response.

Nico's eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened. He knew Y/n was sensitive about her size and had always tried to shield her from such invasive scrutiny. He glanced over at her where she now stood Jack and Luke’s protective hold. Even through this she managed to give him a small smile. Always managing to be his light in the darkest times.

He had to handle this delicately, but firmly. He took a step closer to the podium, his fingers tightening around the edges. "My relationship with Y/n is none of your business," he began, his voice low and measured. "But what I will say is, she's the most amazing person I've ever met." The reporter's smile didn't falter, her eyes gleaming with the scent of controversy.

“Oh, come on," she pushed, her voice dripping with annoyance. "You're an elite star athlete in the NHL, you could be with a supermodel for crying out loud. What do you possibly see in her?" The room remained silent, eyes flickering between Y/n, Nico, and the reporter. The reporter had crossed a line, and she knew it, but she was like a shark smelling blood in the water. Nico's grip on the podium was so tight his knuckles were turning white.

"What I see in Y/n is what truly matters," he said, his voice steady despite the rising anger. "Her kindness, her strength, her humor, and her unconditional love." His eyes stared daggers straight through the disgustingly horrible reporter, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

He took a deep breath, ready to lay it all on the line. "She's got more heart than anyone I've ever met, and that's what makes her beautiful. She's smart, she's caring, and she's the reason I come home with a smile on my face after every game. She's not just my girlfriend, she's my rock, my confidante, and my best friend." The room was so quiet you could hear buzz of the microphones, of each recorder. "And let's be clear," he added, his voice taking on a sharper edge. "Her size has never been, and never will be, an issue for me. It's sickening close minded people like you who have a problem with it. She's more than enough for me, she's everything."

He closed his eyes in an attempt to center himself. Opening back up he glanced over to her two brothers, who stood ready to jump in and defend her this entire time if Nico didnt do his job properly.

Instead of stepping in, Jack let go of his younger sister and started clapping for his captain starting a collective applause from others in the room. The snooty reported stomped out of the press room displeased with Nico’s answers.

Nico left from behind the podium, headed straight to his love. His stride was powerful and commanding, every step with purpose through the room, leaving no doubt about his intentions. When he reached her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his embrace. The room watched in awe as he held her tightly, his athletic frame a perfect contrast to her figure.

Seeing them together like so left no room to question if they were made for each other or not. The answer was that they were the perfect fit for one another.

[hockeyluvrr]

I’ve changed my mind, I was supposed to post it tomorrow but I’m posting sports car for nico at 10pm UK time tonight, so in like 1 hour lol 🫶🏻

[puck-luck]

get cucked | nicojack

warnings: MMF threesome, cocaine use, unprotected p in v, dom m, sub m, sub/switch f, oral m! and f!receiving, handjob, facial, coming untouched, use of handcuffs, jack is put in the cuck chair at one point, begging, praise, dirty talk, all those usual things, jack DOES get rimmed in this, there is slight feminization (one line), jack is a tit man and loves to suck on titties, use of chatGPT for swiss german sentences since i do not know the language and google translate does not have swiss german (just regular german), swiss german nicknames come from this site as always, please let me know if i forgot anything else  <3

pairing: nico hischier x jack hughes x fem!reader

wc: 6,682

Jack isn’t actually sure how he ended up in this position. It’s a blur. They were at the bar– him, you, and Nico, and then all three of you were at your apartment. Jack remembers the drinks, of course, and the way he’d been flirting with you and Nico like he always does, but a switch flipped somewhere along the way. 

Maybe it was when you’d pulled out that little baggie of white powder, smirking enticingly. It could’ve been when Nico did the first line, tipping his head back after he was done, revealing that long, tan, strong column of neck. Perhaps Jack got here because of the heavy weight of Nico’s hand on the back of Jack’s neck as he inhaled the powder off of the line of your cleavage. 

It was probably what happened right after. The lightbulb illuminated when Jack lifted his head and found Nico’s gaze, pupils blown out and swallowing the expressive brown irises. The tip of Nico’s nose was pink and there was a dusting of snow beneath Nico’s nostril and…

Fuck, Jack couldn’t hold himself back. He’s done so well since rookie year, when he and Nico had taken the tension between them and decided that it just couldn’t evolve into something bigger than friendship. For the sake of the team, they needed to remain friends. They needed to maintain some semblance of professionalism.

All of that went out the window when Jack lunged forward– or maybe Nico pulled him, considering the grip on Jack’s neck– and smashed his lips against Nico’s. Your gasp had filled Jack’s ears, but Nico was kissing him back just as enthusiastically. Kissing Nico was more intoxicating than the coke, so Jack can’t really be held responsible for the way the night has devolved.

He has a vague idea of how he ended up in this chair. It had something to do with the way Nico had removed your clothes and thrown you on the bed, while Jack stripped himself of his clothes. He expected to get into things right away, to have his dick involved from the get-go. Nico had another plan. 

After Jack had stripped, Nico pointed at you, laying on the bed with your legs wide, and told Jack to go. He told him to make you feel good, to get his mouth on you and make you come. And Jack… well, Jack– you see, he’s never been the biggest fan of giving head. He’d rather receive it and Nico should know that from the locker room talk he’s overheard. Jack went to remind Nico– murmuring a quiet “I don’t– what else can I do?” while trying to ignore how it sounded like he was seeking permission from his captain. Jack always values Nico’s directions and tries not to refute them, but he just– he doesn’t want to eat you out. He’ll kiss you, he’ll suck on your neck or your tits, he’ll put his fingers inside your cunt, but he wants his mouth to be free. He wants– he wants to kiss Nico again.

“Oh, well, if you don’t want to,” Nico said, shrugging. He was standing at your nightstand, digging around for something– he must know where you keep your condoms, you’d mentioned earlier that you and Nico had hooked up a couple of times before– and Jack didn’t see what was in his hands when he turned to quirk his eyebrows inquisitively at the smaller boy. Nico had caught Jack by the wrist and given it a comforting squeeze. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Jack.”

Jack let out a breath of relief. Nico started guiding Jack to your desk chair, settling him on the cushions. Jack went willingly, thinking that the plan would change and Nico might send you between his knees to suck him. 

“In fact,” Nico continues without even pausing. Jack’s thoughts had flown through his head, so fast that Nico hadn’t even paused. He guides Jack’s arms behind him, gently, subtly, so slowly that Jack barely notices. He just stares up at the pretty brunet in front of him, finally within reach after years of waiting, and doesn’t even snap out of it when a ring of cool metal surrounds his wrist and clicks. He’s listening for Nico’s next words. “You don’t have to do anything at all.”

And Nico left him there. Jack blinked, confused, and tried to follow. Something hard and biting stopped him. Jack tugged at the bindings on his wrist again and twisted his spine to try and see what restrained him. He caught a flash of silver and his fingers hooked on a thin chain. Jack took a sudden breath– Nico had locked him in a chair. With handcuffs.

He was hard already. Jack just didn’t expect to get harder the more he pulled on the restraints and failed to escape.

“Nico,” Jack says.

The man is taking off his shirt next to the bed, standing above you, when Jack interrupts. Nico looks over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow at Jack. “Hm?”

“What am I– what am I supposed to do?” Jack detests how unsure he sounds, but he’s really not… he’s not sure. This is new. Nico is new. A threesome is new. Coke was new. Now he’s in handcuffs, naked, dick straining and standing tall, and nothing is happening to him. Nico is making no plans to move you from the bed, it seems, considering how he’s climbing onto the mattress and kneeling by your side.

“Hey, schatz. Lay that way for me, will you?” Nico requests, talking to you instead of Jack. He waits until you’re moving, reclining with your head at the foot of the bed and legs stretched toward the headboard, to reply to Jack. Nico looks up and cocks his head to the side slightly. “What do you mean, Jack?”

“I don’t– what am I supposed to do, Nico?” Jack repeats. He can’t understand it, because he’s perfectly capable of coming up with ideas for the next move normally, but he’s lost here. He’s got this creeping feeling, warm and prickly, washing over him. He wants– it makes him want to listen to Nico. He wants Nico to, what, guide him? It’s probably just because he always listens to Nico’s ideas, right? Because Nico is smart and leads so well that he’s easy to follow? Right?

“I told you, Jack. You don’t have to do anything,” Nico explains. He walks forward on his knees and settles between your legs. He stares at Jack while his hands smooth up your thighs and hips, then over your sides. 

You moan when Nico’s thumbs brush your nipples. The sound steals Nico’s gaze and he has the audacity to quirk his lips into a smile when he looks down at you. 

No– Jack doesn’t like that. He wants Nico to smile at him. A noise that can only be described as indignant leaves Jack’s throat. It was involuntary, but it works. Nico looks back at the chair where Jack sits. 

“You didn’t want to eat Y/N out, Jack,” Nico says. “She let us come to her apartment, shared with us even though she didn’t have to, and you wouldn’t eat her out?”

“I don’t like–”

Nico looks down at you. “I’m sorry he doesn’t want to make you feel good, baby. I’ll make you come. You know I love how you taste. We don’t even need Jack.”

Jack doesn’t like that either, but before he can protest, you’re piping up. It feels like forever since you did. Jack had tunnel vision on Nico, he realizes. After wanting it for so long, he’d lost the threesome aspect. Greedy, he chastizes himself. That’s how he got here, locked up and looking at two beautiful bodies enjoy themselves without him. He was greedy.

“No, I want him here,” you pout. You arch your back and tilt your head back, eyebrows practically reaching your hairline as you look at Jack. “You’re so pretty, Jack. It’s about time you made a move. Nico and I have been talking about it for ages.”

Jack’s mind skips, purely out of surprise. “You’ve been– you talked about it?”

You open your mouth to reply, but Nico robs Jack of the answer by pressing his thumb on your tongue. He shushes you. “Don’t reveal our secrets,” Nico chides. “You’re giving him what he wants too easily.”

“You can’t just–” The words dissolve in Jack’s mouth when Nico leans forward and takes one of your nipples in his mouth. Jack has… he has a good view from this chair. “Oh,” Jack breathes out. His eyes go wide, fixing on the hollow of Nico’s cheek as he sucks your skin. Jack is silent while Nico kisses down your stomach and nears your pussy, but you are not.

“Nico,” you mumble when he sucks a hickey into your thigh. You moan out loud when he plants a sweet kiss on your mons pubis and drags his bottom lip over the hood of your clit. 

Jack swallows hard. You’re writhing on the bed, but Nico has placed his hands on your hips and anchored you in place. Your lower half is cemented to the bed, Nico’s mouth attached to your core, and Jack can almost feel the pleasure radiating off of you. And Nico– Nico’s eyes are boring into Jack. 

His glance could be construed for admiration of your body, as you arch your back and fall into the bed. He doesn’t tease you, which surprises Jack. He expected Nico to savor this, but he’s working his tongue against your clit with a level of skill that Jack can’t even imagine. At least, that’s how it sounds. You sound like a porn star, moaning in a way that is so over the top that it can’t be real… except that you’re sweating and panting and heaving too, and Jack doesn’t think you can fake a reaction like that. 

Jack was distracted by your movement, but Nico’s eyes catch him again. That dark, attentive, evaluating look hasn’t left Jack.

His cock jumps. Jack blinks. It throbs. Jack’s immediate first thought is to fit his fist around the length and provide himself a little relief. But then– then– the handcuffs stop him. The metal prevents him from making any move. 

“Nico,” Jack calls.

The eyes that stayed on Jack for the past few minutes look away. No, they don’t look away, Nico closes his eyes. He digs his fingertips into your hips and drags your cunt closer to his mouth, licking lower until his mouth disappears into your folds. 

Jack’s mouth opens and his tongue goes dry, Nico ignores Jack and focuses only on you. Jack watches as his nose brushes your clit, bumping into the nerves over and over again. 

You jolt with each nudge, moans breathy and whiny. One of your hands is clutching the comforter beneath you, while the other one is free to thread through Nico’s hair and pull. Jack loses himself in the way the strands of hair grow fluffy or jagged because of your grip, standing tall and messy on Nico’s head. The dark, long pieces on top of Nico’s head become highlighted when the light from your bedroom lamp falls on them just right and Jack loses himself in the mesmerizing changes. 

He hears Nico’s voice, muffled between your legs, but deep and gravely nonetheless. “Tastes so good,” he announces to the room. Jack doesn’t respond– he’s not involved. This isn’t a statement for him. Nico must be talking to you, punctuating his sentence by palming the fleshy fat of your behind. Jack wonders what those hands would feel like on his thighs. 

Nico has slapped Jack’s ass before, but it was always in an athletic setting. Or it was when they were celebrating– Jack remembers one time rookie year, before they’d decided to just be friends, when Nico had slapped his ass after a successful shot in pool and let it linger. His palm had been so warm through Jack’s jeans, almost impossibly so. Maybe it was the knowledge that Nico was there that made Jack’s blood grow warm, made his heart rate spike. Then, Nico’s hand had dropped and Jack had to bury the urge to follow Nico around like a lost puppy all night.

“Fuck, prinzli, don’t you wish this was you?” Nico continues.

Jack hears him quietly, barely audible over the rush of blood in his ears and the pulse in his untouched and yearning cock, and nods along even though the question isn’t directed at him. Nico’s hearty chuckle and the returning fixture of Nico’s eyes on Jack snap him out of his trance. 

“What?” Jack asks. The word is a pile of mush in Jack’s mouth, not nice or pristine like he thinks it should be, but at least it’s out. If Nico is looking at him again, then the question must have been for him.

“Don’t you wish you were over here?” Nico rephrases. His thumb fits over your clit and rubs a quick circle. Your volume increases and Jack has to strain to hear Nico. His mouth spits the words out, curling and dancing in the air. “This could’ve been you, J, and I could’ve had a hand on your cock while you did it.”

Jack’s stomach swoops and his cock releases a blurt of precum to match the movement. His lips part and his eyes go wide. “You would’ve–”

“Touched you, yeah,” Nico confirms nonchalantly. 

Jack imagines Nico’s thick fingers sliding along the vein on the underside of his cock. The phantom touch starts slow, but speeds up the more Jack thinks about it. 

“I thought it would be nice,” Nico continues. “You know, for you to put that smart mouth of yours to use, so you can show Y/N that you’re able to do more than just talk back to me. I was going to let you come in my hand while you licked her, Jack. I was going to finger you after and use your own come as lube.”

Jack can’t form a single thought. Nico’s words bounce through his brain, like an input of words in a computer code that are essential for the program to work. Smart mouth… talk back… let you come… lube…

The phantom touch on Jack’s cock, Nico’s invisible and imaginary hand, twists around the head of his cock. Jack grinds up into it, his hips lifting from the chair.

Nico purses his lips and lays an open-mouthed kiss on your clit, his middle finger coming between your legs and sliding into your hole. Jack can hear how you open up for him, how you welcome his touch with a whimper and a roll of your own hips– as much as Nico will allow them to move. His other hand is still pressed into your side, keeping you in place. 

You throw your head back and suddenly, there are two eyes on Jack. The attention makes him preen, makes him feel even more restricted by the handcuffs.

“I want–” Jack cuts himself off, surprised by how foreign and removed from his body his voice sounds.

Nico quirks an eyebrow and flicks his tongue rapidly over your cunt. He squeezes your side with his hand and you open your mouth to respond, like your mind is linked with Nico’s.

“What do you want, baby?” you ask. The genuine curiosity in your voice tips Jack toward desperation. 

“Let me– I’ll do whatever you tell me to,” Jack bargains. He tugs on the cuffs. The metal bites his wrist and hurts. It will probably leave a mark over his blue-green veins, just from the pure effort to keep Jack contained. He knows he’s strong, but not strong enough to break free. He needs Nico to let him loose. “Please, I want this. I can’t– I need–”

“Have you– oh– have you really earned that?” you inquire. Nico nibbles your clit gently to signal that that was the right response. He rewards you for your words by plunging a second finger into your entrance and curling them forward, your body mimicking the movement, but he doesn’t make any move to reward Jack. 

Jack doesn’t understand. He asked nicely. He said please. He offered to do whatever Nico said, even if he doesn’t want to. 

“But– fuck, Schao, I’ll– I’ll eat her out all night if that’s what you want,” Jack adds. There’s an edge to his voice that he doesn’t recognize, but he’s heard it from women he’s been with in the past. It’s pretty when they beg him for more and now Jack is reduced to begging for something. “You don’t even have to touch me. I can– I’ll do it myself, just let me be a part of this.”

Jack perks up when Nico’s lips turn up at the sound of his nickname. He hums as he continues to eat you out and Jack watches his fingers thrust in time with the twitching muscles under the skin of your thighs. It’s the only sign that he heard Jack’s plea, other than the slight smile on his face. His eyes drift shut and Jack balks. He’s– is he ignoring Jack again?

“Nico,” Jack whines petulantly. His hips twitch upward and he feels a flush cross his cheeks. “Nico, please.”

“I’m coming, sunneschii,” Nico chuckles. Jack can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic. “I’m going make our girl come first, then I’ll let you go.”

There’s another reminder that it’s not just Nico and Jack. Jack continues to get caught up in the aura of the man before him. He loses himself in the dark eyes contrasting against your skin, but Jack has to tear himself away. How he wants Nico– he wants him– but you’re here, and you’re an equal part here, and if Jack keeps forgetting that, then he’ll never get what he wants. 

So he closes his mouth and watches Nico’s fingers work inside of you. He watches them fill you, watches a third tease your entrance but never fully slip in. He watches Nico’s jaw pop and manipulate your skin with his movements. He sees how the flat lick of Nico’s tongue to your clit makes goosebumps rise on your skin and make your nipples stiffen into blunt peaks. 

Your view is almost as good as Jack’s. If you look down, you see a strong, athletic, European man holding you close and devouring you. The sprinkling of scruff along his jaw rubs your inner thighs while he eats you out, which he knows you love, so he doesn’t spread your legs like he did the first time he took the journey down. You can see how his motions spark the waves of pleasure that emanate from your body, although the connection dulls the sensation slightly. When you look away, you feel like his touch is a mystery and a surprise, and you get to see the ruined boy across the room. 

Jack’s not as put together as he thinks he is. His bottom lip is swollen from the way he’d been biting it when Nico first started ignoring him. He’s an attention whore and Nico didn’t give him the time of day– it’s entertaining how easily Jack will resort to begging and grinding his pretty cock into the air in order to regain Nico’s scrutiny. His cheeks are red and splotchy from how turned on he is and his cock leaks onto itself, brimming with pearly white droplets and spilling over. The precum cools and disappears as it makes its way down his cock, but his tip is shining and tinged with purple from his need for contact. If this is how he looks before Nico even touches him, then you’re in for a treat.

Jack sees your eyes roll into the back of your head. Your breasts sit high on your chest when you arch your back and he’s starting to wish that he was licking them. He might be, to be frank, insanely attracted to all of Nico, but Jack has always been a tit man and will always be a tit man. Your tits deserve his appreciation.

You make a long and wanton sigh when Nico drags you over the edge. Jack can tell that you’re finally coming when your body relaxes on the mattress. You’d been in near-constant motion while Nico was working, but now he’s lapping at your folds like a cat drinking milk in a cartoon, and you’re not moving a muscle. 

“Jack,” Nico murmurs.

Jack’s heart nearly bounces out of his chest. He’s– it’s his turn. “Nico?”

“I’m going to come uncuff you,” Nico tells him. You take a breath, hearing Nico’s calm voice and letting it soothe you. He kisses the juncture of your thigh and hip. “Are you going to listen to me when I tell you what to do?”

“Yes,” Jack declares. “Whatever you want, Ni.”

He revels in the proud smirk that Nico hides in the skin of your stomach. Nico takes the time to kiss over your stomach, between your boobs– never on them, which Jack thinks isn’t fair to the pretty mounds– and on your mouth. His kiss on your lips is chaste, but your lips slide against each other unhurriedly. Nico doesn’t seem to feel the pressure and impatience coming from Jack while he kisses you. 

Nico pulls away and you whine softly, trying to hold onto his shoulder, but it slips away as he moves off of you and approaches Jack. The key in Nico’s hands, dwarfed in his palm, catches the light and Jack has to hold back an embarrassing squeal of excitement. 

It takes a lot of effort for you to sit up. You feel like you rub slick over your bedsheets, but you want to get more comfortable. You’d like to sit up on the pillows and see what Nico wants to do next– and with whom.

When you turn around, you feel like your body freezes. You’re frozen, but there’s a batch of boiling water surrounding you and you’re cooking from the outside in. The heat of the room has been turned up to… an incomprehensible four thousand degrees celsius because Jack is clinging to Nico and claiming his lips with the ferocity of a rabid animal. 

His hands, pale against Nico’s warm skin, are everywhere. Jack doesn’t seem to know where he wants to touch the broader man now that he’s free. His fingertips paint lines down Nico’s neck and torso. His knuckles are tinged with pink somehow, blushing like the tip of his nose, and you love the way his hands settle on Nico’s waist and dig into the skin there. 

Nico seems amused. His thumbs brush over Jack’s jawline and he’s smiling between kisses, tilting his head this way and that to satisfy the desperate boy mouthing at him. Nico guides Jack toward the bed and Jack is mindlessly allowing his captain to mold his body however he wants it– so long as Jack can continue rolling his entire body to try and get some relief on his bleeding cock. There’s no actual blood, of course, but you use the word for three reasons: the precum is spurting from Jack’s slit like the beading blood on a little wound, his cock is red and angry like a splash of rouge on the walls of a murder house, and, if you look close enough, you think you can see his pulse driving through the veins in his cock. Even if he was being subtle about how badly he wants Nico, his dick would betray his true feelings.

“Okay,” Nico mumbles. He brings his hands down Jack’s waist and pat his sides. “That’s enough, prinz. I know. Why don’t you go give Y/N some love, ‘kay?”

Jack comes to you willingly. You’re almost surprised. Jack’s allegiance has been clear from the first second of this threesome. You and Nico had been pushing his limits, certainly, by flirting with Jack while you drank beer at the bar and snorted white powder at your apartment. Nico swore that Jack would’ve made a move on you first, but you’d known all along that Jack would break and go to Nico first. It’s obvious how badly he wants the approval of the older boy. It’s obvious how badly Jack wants to prove himself to Nico. 

His solid body collapses on your own. Jack presses you into the pillows and licks into your mouth with the same fervor he afforded to Nico.

Jack is so messy when he kisses. He’s sloppy. His hands card through your hair and get caught on the ends, twisting them between his fingers. He pants between kisses, whining when his shaft drags along your hipbone. He sounds so pretty.

“On your knees, J,” Nico instructs. “You can keep kissing her, but kneel for me.”

Jack bustles around atop you, bracketing your body with his legs. He makes a sad, reluctant noise when his cock loses contact with your skin. He rocks forward slightly and his tip knocks against your abdomen, leaving a line of precum to connect your bodies. 

Nico makes a sharp, castigating noise. Jack freezes. You pull back and look around Jack’s lithe body, finding Nico behind him.

“What’s up, Neeks?” you ask. 

“Don’t worry,” Nico reassures you. He squeezes your ankle comfortingly. “Just keep kissing Jack. Distract him.”

Jack’s eyes open and he frowns, trying to meet your gaze for an answer to his unspoken question. Distract me? You think he’s asking. What does that mean?

You’re not one to question Nico, so you wrap your arms over Jack’s shoulders and tug him closer to kiss him until he’s breathless and lightheaded. You feel Jack jolt in your arms suddenly, then jerk away from you. 

“Nico,” Jack says. His brows come together and he sounds worried. 

“Shh, it’s okay. Trust me,” Nico whispers. You hear him plant a kiss somewhere on Jack’s body. “You’ll feel good, prinzli. I promise I won’t do anything that isn’t good.”

You touch Jack’s cheek, tilting your head at him and meeting his eyes. “I know it’s your first time doing something like this, sweetheart,” you murmur. You pet Jack’s hair out of his face and kiss the tip of his nose. “Nico’s going to take care of you. You know how much he cares about you. He won’t do anything that you won’t like, okay? And we can always stop, if that’s what you want. It’s up to you.”

Jack is silent as he takes in your words, seeming to drink them up. He starts to nod, his hands clutching your waist like it grounds him. “‘Kay,” Jack whispers. “We can– yeah. Let’s…” he trails off, then leans forward and kisses you. He sounded a little lost, not knowing what he was saying, and you think he might have found solace in just doing something else, like kissing you.

You don’t have to look at Nico to know how he’s smiling, proud of Jack for taking the jump.

“Can you multitask, J?” Nico asks.

Jack hums affirmatively against your lips.

“Good,” Nico says. “Will you finger Y/N for me? Make her come?”

Jack is already obeying. His fingers are probing against your cunt, two digits sliding into your hole and curling inside of you.

“Good boy,” Nico praises. “Don’t stop until I tell you.” Nico’s hand finds your knee and pinches the soft skin on the side of the bone. “You can tell him to stop too, if you need it.”

“Will,” you affirm before Jack fills your mouth with his tongue and muffles your words. 

“One more thing,” Nico adds. He smooths his hands over the globes of Jack’s ass, digging his nails into the soft skin. Jack’s heart jumps at the touch. “My cock belongs to whoever lasts longer.”

Jack’s legs tense and his toes curl when he feels Nico’s tongue paint a wet stripe between his cheeks, passing right over his hole. The feeling is foreign and Jack kind of wants to push Nico away. His first instinct is to say ‘Get off me, Schao,’ because his asshole is not something he ever imagined another person would touch.

Then he gets distracted by the way Nico fits his fist around the tip of Jack’s cock and drags it down to the base.

He loses control of his fingers as his body melts into Nico’s touch. 

They still inside of you and you scoff indignantly. “Jack,” you groan.

He registers his name falling from your lips, but he doesn’t hear it. He mouths against your neck mindlessly, feeling you pull on his hair. When Nico repeats his name, Jack looks over his shoulder.

“Keep fingering her, büebli. It’s not a fair fight if you’re not doing your part.” Nico flicks the back of Jack’s thigh. 

“Sorry,” Jack apologizes breathlessly. He pushes back into Nico’s touch. 

Nico quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, you greedy boy,” he muses. He drops his hand from Jack’s cock and palms the globes of his ass, spreading him apart and tonguing along the puckered rim there. “Is this what you wanted?”

Jack whimpers, burying his face against your tits. “Mhm,” he affirms, nodding. His lips catch your nipple and he sucks, as if he’s soothing himself. His fingers have started moving inside of you again and his thumb finds your clit.

You roll your hips into his touch and look down at the two boys before you. Jack sucks on your skin desperately, leaving splotches in his wake. Nico has his eyes closed, showering Jack with attention.

Nico pulls away and brings his pinkie to his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit. He winks at you, noticing how your pupils dilated as you realized what he’s planning to do. 

“Schao,” Jack keens. He’s on the verge of begging again. You can hear it in his voice. 

“God, Jack, listen to you,” Nico says. He circles Jack’s hole with the tip of his pinkie, but leans down to lick him and get him more wet, more willing to accept the finger. “You won’t eat out our girl’s pretty pink pussy but you’re falling apart while I eat yours?” He kisses Jack’s rim and nibbles, pushing the tip of his pinkie past Jack’s entrance.

Jack’s jaw drops and the mewl that leaves his mouth breaks halfway through its exhale. His hips drop and his tip finds the juncture of your thigh. It slides into the space between your legs and Jack bucks his hips once, twice, and– shudders.

You feel your face heat up, growing red to the tips of your ears. His cum slides down your thighs, dripping onto the bed below you. His teeth found your tit and bit down while he came– now, he’s licking along the indentations that he left behind, making sweet, satisfied noises in the back of his throat.

Jack feels a bit like he’s floating away. You’re so soft beneath him. He turns his head and closes his eyes, nuzzling against your skin like a pillow. Jack wishes he had something in his mouth, something to suck on… and like you’re reading his mind, you touch his lips. Jack takes your first two fingers in his mouth and swallows around them, humming. Nico is still mouthing along his skin, finding his way up to Jack’s lower back and sucking a hickey there.

“That was so sexy, schatz,” Nico murmurs as he kisses up Jack’s spine. “Coming like that. I barely touched you, baby. My desperate boy. Can’t wait til I get my cock in you one day, make you come undone for real.”

Jack turns his head and blinks his eyes open, finding Nico hovering near his head. You pull your fingers from his mouth and thumb away the bit of spit that collected at the corner of his lips. Jack preens when Nico brushes a thumb over his rosy cheeks, then moans aloud when Nico drops his head and sucks Jack’s bottom lip into his mouth.

“Aren’t you sweet,” Nico mutters. He pulls back and kisses him again, curling the waves at the nape of Jack’s neck between his fingers. 

Jack is smiling dopily, admiring the man before him like he hung the stars. 

“You wanna suck Y/N’s tits while I fuck her, baby?” Nico offers. He pinches Jack’s side, then tweaks his nipple. Jack squeaks at that and squirms away from Nico’s tickling fingers. He burrows into your arms, wrapping himself around you and hiding against your boobs. He starts to move his lips against your skin as soon as he makes contact.

You and Nico giggle together at how easy Jack is after he comes. He’s a sweet, cuddly boy who wants to kiss and suck the skin of his partner until he comes down from the climax. It’s a massive change from who he was before, but you can’t say you prefer either version. The brazen, flirtatious Jack Hughes who is touchy and sassy sets your stomach afire and makes your nose crinkle affectionately, but this version has you simmering and wanting to wrap him in the world’s warmest, fuzziest blanket and kiss all over his face. He’s an angel, either way, and you adore him.

With Jack tucked into your side, curled up and sucking one of your tits while his palm flattens over the other, Nico kneels between your legs. He lifts your ankle, brings it to his lips and kisses it before wrapping it around his waist. He then takes a pillow from the headboard and stuffs it under your hips.

“Do you want me to grab a condom before I start, babe?” Nico asks you, his hand wrapped around his base.

You shake your head. “Need to feel all of you, Ni.”

Jack swoons against your chest, evidently thinking of Nico’s cock in all of its glory. You bring your hand to his head and play with his hair, scratching his scalp and making him sigh as he nibbles the peak on your breast.

“You’re just as greedy as our boy,” Nico teases. He palms Jack’s hip and squeezes. “Hear that? She’s just as bad as you.”

“‘m not bad,” Jack mumbles. 

“No, J, you’re good,” you tell him. He grins and kisses your ribcage, then comes up to rest his head in the curve of your neck. His fingers toy with your nipples still, pinching and twisting and playing.

Nico fits the tip of his cock against your entrance and starts to push forward. You’re open enough from Nico’s mouth, fingers, and Jack’s fingers that he can slide in easily. Nico rolls his hips and grinds forward gently, until you’re lifting your hips and pouting up at him. Jack sees the pout and lifts his head, pecking the corner of your mouth over and over until you turn your head to meet him.

Jack’s kisses are much more subdued now, like his lips glide over yours. You imagine a waterfall painting sun-dried rocks with their mist. That’s how it feels to kiss Jack. 

“Ihr zwei luegt so schöön us,” Nico praises. You’ve never learned Swiss German, and you don’t think Jack has either, but you can tell from his tone that he’s saying something complimentary. 

“Danki,” Jack mumbles.

Maybe he does understand Nico.

“Ihr sind so guet zu mir,” Nico continues. He bends down and kisses Jack’s temple, then yours. His hips are still moving towards you, thrusts becoming more harsh, and Jack smiles into your lips. He doesn’t reply. 

Nico drags another orgasm from you slowly, taking you apart and murmuring in his dialect all the time. His voice lulls you through the climax and the aftershocks spike through your body when Jack suckles on your nipple, flicking the tip with his tongue and digging his teeth gently into your areola. 

“Gueti Meit,” he whispers. 

Nico slips from your cunt without coming. You draw your eyebrows together and tilt your head. “Nico?” you ask. You sound a bit like Jack.

Nico shushes you by holding a finger to his lips. “J, look at me,” Nico says. “Lay on your back.”

Jack’s eyes brighten and he rolls back. “‘Sup, Hisch?” he slurs out, his tongue seeming thick and swollen in his mouth again. 

“Hi, sünneli.” Nico caresses Jack’s cheek and straddles his chest.

You take a deep breath and roll towards them, batting Nico’s hand off of his cock and taking over. You start to stroke him, squeezing and twisting around his tip. You thumb over his slit and lick his frenulum, humming contentedly at the salty taste of yourself and his precum mixed together.

Jack is biting his lip and taking in the scene before him. Nico frees the lip with his thumb before planting both hands on the headboard and throwing his head back, groaning as you increase your speed and tighten your grip. Jack’s hands cautiously come to the back of Nico’s thighs, then grip on when Nico looks down at him and smiles that proud smile. Jack opens his mouth and hollows his cheeks and tries to make himself look as inviting and sexy as he can– he loves when a girl sucks him off and takes his cum all over her tongue and lips and cheeks and he wants to be as pretty for Nico.

The milky white spurts of cum streak out of Nico’s cock forcefully. He’s been waiting all night for this, holding himself back and focusing on the pleasure of the two of you, so his orgasm is strong. 

Most of the cum, stripped from Nico’s dick at your hand, falls onto Jack’s tongue. He pushes the muscle out, enlarging the canvas for Nico. He closes his eyes and you lick a stray stripe of cum from the corner of Jack’s lips, relishing in the taste. 

You loosen your grip on Nico when he’s effectively milked dry, and you bring a hand to Jack’s cheek to turn his head towards you. You kiss him deeply, working your tongue past his lips, tasting the cum and taking some of it into your mouth as you swap saliva. 

Nico separates you and kisses Jack first. Jack doesn’t even flinch at the change, he doesn’t open his eyes, nothing. He’s complacent and relaxed and so hungry to be touched by anyone. After Jack, Nico kisses you. It’s the first time you’ve kissed since he ate you out and you breathe him in.

Nico parts from you and guides your head back towards Jack’s. It’s easy, and you like kissing, so you and Jack fall into a routine. His hand comes to your jawline and pets along the curve. Nico leaves the bed, heading into your bathroom, and he comes back with a wet rag. You hear the shower starting and running in the background when he comes back.

“Okay, enough,” Nico murmurs, splitting you and Jack. He brings the wet rag to Jack’s flushed cheeks and starts to wipe the dried cum away, cleaning him up. 

Jack rolls his head back onto his shoulders and blinks slowly at Nico. 

Nico kisses his forehead, then uses the same rag to wipe between your legs. He kisses your forehead too.

“Are you up for a shower, or do you want a little more time?” Nico asks the two of you, wiggling his way between your bodies and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you tight against his sides.

Jack snuggles up to him immediately, tucking his head into the crook of Nico’s neck and sighing. You hug Nico’s middle and rest your cheek on his pec. 

“Cuddle now, shower later,” Jack decides. He kisses Nico’s pulsepoint. “You smell nice, Schao.”

“Thanks, büebli,” Nico replies. 

“And you’re so pretty, Y/N,” Jack adds. “Pretty tits, ‘specially.”

Nico chuckles and you giggle. “Oh, you think so?” you tease. “Couldn’t tell from all the hickeys you probably left.”

Jack picks his head up and peeks out at you, eyes shining. He’s grinning wickedly. “Sorry,” he apologizes, and you can tell that he doesn’t mean it at all.

[puckinghischier]

Falling

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader gets hurt and nico is worried about her

notes: y’all i ain’t gonna lie, i went through a bit of a rollercoaster while writing this. i loved it at first, then halfway through started hating it, then somehow started loving it again towards the end. so if it seems a little all over place i’m sorry. also i know very little about how a dislocated shoulder works, so just pretended i didn’t if i got anything wrong. i hope y’all enjoy it!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “A hears that B got hurt and rushes over in a panic to see if they are okay” where reader maybe gets in an accident or gets hurt in their sport (nothing major). Bonus points if you add “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.”

[4.5k]

part 2

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Nothing’s broken, just a nasty dislocation,” you attempt to calm your mother’s nerves, trying to unlock your apartment door with your good arm while balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder. “They reset it for me and told me to follow up with my primary care on Monday. Gave me some pain meds and sent me on my way.”

“Well, what about until then? What if you need help? What about work? How will you drive?” she rapid fires questions at you.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Since it was a work-related injury, I’ll still get paid. And they’re paying all of the medical bills, so that’s all taken care of,” you make your way into your apartment, shutting the door with your foot behind you. “Everything else I’ll handle as it comes.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer, tsking into her phone, making you picture her trademark displeased headshake.

“What about Nico? Why don’t you stay with him until you’re back to 100%? I’m sure he’d be willing to help out,” she suggests, her tone switching from worried to suggestive.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed.

“Mom, how many times do I have to tell you, Nico and I are just friends. We work together. Just because you think you saw him look at me a certain way when you were visiting doesn’t mean I have to call him every time something goes wrong,” you tell her, placing your bag on your kitchen table.

Ever since your mom came in a few months ago to visit, she’s been on your case about making a move on Nico, it all starting when she witnessed Nico helping you across the ice during a pre-game practice while trying to get some action shots.

You work as a photographer for the Devils, not realizing that being able to ice skate would have been a nice addition to your resume.

Your college advisor arranged the interview for you right before graduation. You had no previous knowledge of hockey, having come from a football family. You told your advisor this, but she insisted you didn’t have to know anything about a sport to be able to take good pictures of it.

During the interview, you made sure to inform your now boss that you didn’t know how to skate, hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. He assured you that you could take pictures from the stands or the players bench, the chance of you having to step onto the ice slim.

For the first few months of your job, it was smooth sailing. You were mostly taking pictures from the camera holes in the glass or being told to cover locker room and arrival pictures. You worked with one other photographer, a seasoned sports photography veteran named Phil. Phil was a New Jersey native, having grown up skating, so he took over the duties of any major action shots the director wanted from on the ice.

Unfortunately for you, Phil’s wife had convinced him to retire early, losing his help right before the league’s short Christmas break.

Seeing as they had just hired you, and it was the middle of the season, the hunt for a replacement for Phil was put on the backburner, more important team matters taking precedence.

You were forced to take over Phil’s duties, meaning you were now responsible for any on the ice shots. You had found a way to slowly scoot across the perimeter of the rink, staying out of the way while also getting the shots you needed.

Your system was working well until the morning of a gameday, having gotten permission from your boss to bring your mother along to this particular practice, wanting to show her all aspects of your job.

For this particular game, the players were especially focused on practicing their skills and running drills during morning skate. You were doing your typical shuffle while clutching the edge of the waist-high wall when someone came zooming past you, causing your feet to start sliding uncontrollably, not being able to find your footing on the slick ice.

You felt the moment you were about to fall, waiting for the impact of your butt on the cold ice, but it never came. You felt yourself fall into a body covered by plastic pads, gloved hands shooting out to grab your upper arms.

You looked up, seeing Nico smiling down at you in amusement.

“It’s a bit slippery out here, huh?” he jokes, making sure you’re standing steady on your feet before letting go of you.

“Well, we are standing on ice, so….” You trail off, grabbing onto the wooden ledge again, preventing another near fall.

Nico laughs, looking down and shuffling his skates back and forth.

“Well would you look at that? We are on ice ” He flashes a smile, looking back up at you.

You stick your tongue out at him, earning another chuckle from the team’s Captain.

“You know, most people use these great things called ice skates when they try to walk on ice,” he tells you, lifting one skate up for emphasis.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff out a “Oh wow, why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“Just some food for thought,” Nico shrugged as he placed his foot back down on the ice, skating in a little circle, as if to say “See, told you so.”

You let go of the ledge to cross your arms, forgetting that you needed the stability. When you try to shift your weight from one leg to the other, you lose your footing again, this time falling forward into Nico. You let the camera in your hands fall, grabbing onto his biceps to stay upright, thankful for the camera strap around your neck.

His hands shoot out to grab your forearms.

“You know the sad thing is, even with the skates, I’d still be as clumsy, considering I have absolutely no idea how to use them,” you tell him, the two of you still holding on to one another.

Nico shakes his head at you, placing one of your hands on his forearm, moving you from in front of him to beside of him.

He starts slowly skating towards the bench while you shuffle your feet along, putting all of your focus on keeping yourself upright until you reach your destination.

When you finally reach the bench, you step off of the ice and let out a breath of relief.

“Thanks, Cap. Would’ve hated to make a fool of myself out there while my mom’s watching,” you thank him, looking over to where your mom sits, a smile on her face.

Nico follows your gaze and waves to your mom, matching her smile.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? What if she found out her daughter was a skating fraud?” he teases, leaning in to whisper the last two words.

“It’s her fault for never taking me to the rink my town would throw up once a year at Christmas. Who knows, maybe I would’ve been a skating prodigy if given the chance,” you shrug.

A mischievous smile makes its way onto his face. “I think we should put that theory to the test,” he tells you, causing your eyes to latch onto his.

“Come again?” You raise your eyebrows and tilt your chin down.

“I mean, I can’t have some photographer out on my ice during practices that can’t even stand up,” he keeps his tone light, making sure you know he’s just teasing, “So, I’m going to teach you how to skate, and see if you really would have been a skating prodigy.”

He skates off, winking before resuming his practice.

You don’t have a chance to speak to him again until after the game, when you get at text from an unknown number reading “Rink, tomorrow, 2pm. I’ll bring skates, just bring your prodigy skills.”

After that, you meet with Nico twice a week for skating lessons.

The two of you quickly form a friendship, Nico bringing you coffee on gamedays and you slipping him snacks on the bench during games. You even started inviting him over for dinner after your lessons, insisting the least you can do is feed him to repay him for preventing you from making a fool of yourself on the ice.

Today, however, you did make a fool of yourself on the ice.

You were standing behind the net, telling the players to skate towards you so you could get some shots for the team’s Instagram account by request of the social media manager.

Once you were pleased with the amount of shots you had gotten, you left your spot from behind the net, skating slowly towards the benches, still a little wobbly on your skates.

You were looking down at your camera, thinking of how you’ll have to get Nico out here after the game to get some shots, knowing he’s currently doing pre-game interviews in the locker room.

You weren’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the pucks littering the ice in front of you, skating right into one and losing your balance, holding your camera up with one arm while trying to catch yourself with the other.

You felt the way your shoulder shifted, crying out in pain as players turned and started rushing towards you on the ice.

The team doctor came out and told you he was pretty sure your shoulder was simply dislocated, but sent you to the hospital to make sure nothing’s broken.

The ER doctor confirmed your diagnosis, putting your shoulder back into place before pumping you full of pain meds and placing your arm into a sling.

Which leads you to where you are now, back at your apartment, explaining to your mother why Nico can’t be at your beck and call.

“Honey, when are you going to realize that boy is in love with you? I’m telling you, the way I saw him look at you that day I came to visit, the skating lessons and dinners,” she starts, giving you her typical speech when you tell her Nico is just a friend.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter what you think you saw, we’re seriously just friends. And he’s busy, his schedule is too hectic to spend his time babysitting me,” you interrupt her, not wanting to hear her Nico speech for the thousandth time, regretting ever telling her about the skating lessons.

She sighs into the phone.

“I’m just trying to help you, you know…” you hear your mother start, but you tune the rest of her words out, focusing on the three loud knocks on your front door.

Your head turns to your door, the unexpected noise causing you to jump, the sudden motion tipping your bag over, the contents spilling all of your kitchen floor.

“Honey, are you alright? What was that?” your mom halts her one-sided conversation, worry in her tone.

“Shit!” you exclaim, watching the container of memory cards fly open, the small squares sliding across the linoleum floor.

You forget about the sling on your arm, crouching down and trying to reach for the cards with your bad arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder at the movement.

Letting out a loud yelp, you bring your arm back to its resting positing in the sling.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Did you hurt yourself?” you barely hear your mother’s voice through the phone speaker, not being able to think about anything other than the throbbing pain in your shoulder.

You hear three more pounds on your front door, this time a voice following the knocks.

“Y/N! Open up!”

You groan, trying to stand up, too many people trying to get your attention at the moment.

“Honey, talk to me. Is someone in there with you? I heard another voice,” your mother asks you as you stand, making your way over towards your front door.

“Someone’s knocking on the door,” you grit through your teeth, trying to think about anything but the pain in your shoulder. “I dropped my bag and tried to pick something up with my bad arm. I’m fine. Just hurts,” you tell her, opening your door to see a frantic Nico standing there.

His wide eyes scan your body, stopping once they see the sling on your arm.

You notice his wet hair and lack of socks on his tennis shoe covered feet.

“Are you okay? They told me you had to be taken to the hospital before the game started, but no one knew what really happened,” he rushed out, looking up at your face.

“Hey, Mom, gotta go, Nico’s at my door,” you tell her, a little stunned that the object of your conversation just appeared, hanging up the phone before she could make any comments about it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you ask him, pointing towards his feet, an amused smile on your face. The shock of seeing him at your door making you completely forget about the pain in your shoulder.

Nico looks down at his own feet, looking back up at you with red cheeks.

“Oh, uh, I couldn’t find my socks after the game and i couldn’t get you to answer your phone, so I rushed over to the hospital to see if you were still there, and they told me you left about an hour ago, so I hopped in my car and came over here to make sure you were okay,” he tells you, not meeting your eye.

You’re shocked at his confession, not expecting him to be so concerned about your impromptu trip to the hospital.

“Well, I’m here and still standing,” you awkwardly stand in your doorway, not knowing what else to say, thinking about how if you weren’t arguing with your mom over Nico on the phone, you might have gotten his calls.

“Yeah, I see that now,” he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

The two of you stand there, not really knowing what to say to one another.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask him, moving out of the doorway to let him step into your apartment.

Nico shakes his head yes and walks past you, looking towards the mess on the floor in your kitchen.

“What happened here? Is this the crash I heard?” he asks you.

“Yeah, the bag fell and spilled everything. When I went to pick it up, I forgot and used my bad shoulder,” you gesture to your slinged arm.

Nico shakes his head at you, crouching down to pick up the camera disks all over the floor.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

“Well you’re sure as hell not trying to pick them up again,” Nico interrupts you, standing and placing the now full box of disks on your table.

You roll your eyes at him, walking over towards your fridge.

“So, what exactly happened? Jack told me you hurt your shoulder?” he follows you over to your fridge, watching you scan its contents, or lack thereof.

“Well, I was looking at my camera and skated right into a bunch of pucks on the floor, then was too focused on saving the equipment instead of remembering how to fall properly,” you told him, remembering his words during your first skate lesson, telling you not to catch yourself if you fall on the ice.

“See, I told you to just let yourself fall. Never try to catch yourself,” he echoes his words in your thoughts.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier said than done,” you deadpan, shutting your fridge door and looking at Nico.

Your stomach growls at that exact moment, making you groan at your lack of food in your fridge, not having eaten since before your accident.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Nico asks you, looking down at your growling stomach.

“Uhhh, breakfast?” you recall.

Nico’s eyes widen. “It’s almost midnight. Did they really not feed you at the hospital?” he asks you.

“Considering they were busy doing x-rays and scans to make sure nothing was broken or torn, no,” you walk over to your cabinets, finding them also bare.

“Alright, go sit down and I’ll order us something to eat,” Nico shoos you out of the kitchen, walking over and opening the drawer where you keep all of your takeout menus.

You wonder how he knows where your menus are, forgetting for a moment that he’s over at your apartment at least twice a week after your skating lessons. Sometimes more, the occasional movie night making its way into your weekly routine.

“What do you want? Sushi? Chinese? Burgers?” he questions, flipping through your menus.

For some reason, your brain chooses this moment to register how much you enjoy the sight of Nico in your kitchen, looking through your takeout menus and offering to order you dinner.

You think back to all the times he’s helped you make dinner, laughter filling every moment of your time together. You think about how he always wear his pjs when he comes over for a movie night, bringing a different chocolate candy to put in the popcorn each time. You think about how he somehow learned your coffee order without you ever telling him, bringing you a coffee every morning, even at away games.

You think about your mother’s words, and how you didn’t even have to ask Nico to come over tonight, or to give you skating lessons. You think about how you never have to ask Nico to do anything he does for you – which is a lot, you’re realizing – he just does it. He does it because he wants to, because he’s kind and caring and wants to spend time with you.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N, what do you want for dinner?” Nico snaps you out of your sudden revelation.

“Sorry, spaced out for a second. Must be the pain meds,” you tell him, knowing that your mind isn’t the least bit impaired right now.

“Okay, go sit down, we need to get some food in you then,” he fishes his phone out of his pocket, mumbling out “Can’t believe they pumped you full of meds on an empty stomach.”

You make your way to your couch, sitting down and taking your shoes off, making yourself as comfortable as you can.

You remove a stray piece of hair that fell onto your face, knowing how awful it must look.

When you fell on the ice, the claw clip that was holding your hair in its up-do broke, causing it to fan out over the cold, wet ice. Once you got to the hospital, you were put in and out of so many different machines, you can only imagine the tangled, matted mess it is.

You get up and go to your bathroom, finding your brush and trying to comb it out. The task proving to be difficult with only one hand. The tangles keep pulling your head back and hurting your tender scalp, but you keep trying, whimpering each time the brush gets stuck on a particularly bad tangle.

You don’t even hear Nico approach your bathroom, just a sigh and “I told you to sit down,” before the brush is taken from your hand and you see Nico’s reflection behind you in the mirror.

Without another word, he proceeds to brush your hair for you, ensuring every tangle is gone before setting the brush on your sink.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, neither one wanting to break the silence during the surprisingly intimate moment.

You clear your throat, looking down after the silence got too intense, causing Nico to avert his eyes as well.

“I really wish i could wash my hair, but i know that’s a no go tonight,” you chuckle, wishing your bathroom was a little bit bigger in this moment.

“I can braid your hair for you,” Nico starts, staring at you in the mirror, watching your eyes snap up to meet his. “I mean, only if you want,” he stutters out.

“Really?” you ask him, a little stunned.

“Yeah. I used to help Nina with hers all the time when I was younger,” Nico mentions his older sister, grabbing your hair lightly and starting to section it off. “Anytime she would have a sleep over I would always weasel my way into the party. So one day, she made me sit in a braiding chain and learn how to braid her hair.”

You let out a giggle, picturing a smaller version of Nico sitting at the end of a line of girls, braiding their long hair.

“Then, Nina claimed I got so good at it she always wanted me to braid her hair before her volleyball matches, then her friends all started wanting me to do theirs, too,” he continues talking, nearly lulling you to sleep with the soft movements of his hands as you listen to him speak.

“I think that’s adorable,” you quietly speak, closing your eyes.

“What can I say? When a pretty girl needs her hair braided, who am I to keep my skills to myself?” he jokes, making you wonder if he meant you or his sister’s friends.

“I’m sure it’s any little boy’s dream to have an entire volleyball team at his mercy, all those pretty volleyball players begging him to play with their hair,” you tease him, handing him the hair tie that you always keep on your wrist.

“I don’t know, I think playing with a pretty photographer’s hair is better, if you ask me,” he ties the hair tie around the bottom of the braid, reaching up to pull the braid loose, making sure it’s not too tight.

You keep your eyes closed, knowing he can likely see the redness on your cheeks at his words.

“Alright, eyes open. Need to make sure you like my work,” he places his hands on your biceps, making sure to keep his touch feather light on your bad arm.

He turns you around so you’re facing him, holding a handheld mirror that was laying on your sink in front of your face, allowing you to see the reflection of the braid.

You’re shocked to see the flawless Dutch braid that cascades down your back.

“Nico, you’re like…really good at this,” you reach your good hand to the back of your head, running it down the braid.

“Told you, I had a lot of practice,” he shrugs, setting the mirror down.

You yawn, the relaxing nature of having your hair braided allowing you to realize how tired you are from the day’s events.

“Nuh-uh, gotta keep you awake until we get some food in you,” he tuts, taking his hands and patting your cheeks.

You groan, leaning into his palms that stay resting on your face.

“C’mon, let’s get you changed and on the couch,” he motions for you to leave the bathroom.

You walk to your room, Nico helping you carefully remove your sling before leaving and giving you some privacy.

You change into your pajamas, somehow managing to get your arm into an oversized Devils shirt you found at the bottom of your drawer.

Nico is standing outside of your door when you open it, helping you back into your sling.

He stands in front of you, staring at you with a look that you can’t decipher.

“Is…everything okay?” you question him, noticing his stare after adjusting your sling.

His eyes snap up to you, seemingly unaware that he was even staring at you in the first place.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I just- is that my shirt?” he asks you, pointing to your pj shirt.

You look down at the oversized shirt, trying to think of where you got it.

It had just showed up in your laundry basket one day, assuming it was one they gave you when you got your job, but Nico’s question makes you think harder.

You realize, suddenly, you do remember where you got it.

During one of your post lesson dinners, Nico had spilled his drink all over his shirt. You offered to wash it for him after he changed to a shirt in his duffel.

You meant to take it back to him after you washed it, but forgot about it entirely, packing it away in your pajama drawer.

“Oh, crap, it is. Do you want it back, I can go change?” you ask him, worried he’s upset that you forgot to give it back.

“No…no it’s fine. Keep it. I have plenty,” he shakes his head, glancing down at it once more.

The two of you make your way to your couch, finding something to watch on tv when there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of your food.

You start to stand to go get it, but Nico sternly tells you to stay put.

Rolling your eyes you sit back down, grabbing the remote and continuing to channel surf.

Nico’s gone for longer than you expect, causing you to sit up and turn back towards your kitchen, wondering what’s taking him so long.

You see him walking over to you, a tray full of food in his hands.

He had ordered from your favorite sushi place, figuring it would be the easiest for you to eat one handed.

As he sat down the tray on the coffee table in front of you, you realized what took him so long.

Nico had put a toothpick in each piece of your sushi, knowing using chopsticks with your non dominant hand would have been hard for you. He poured soy sauce into a small container, allowing you to simply pick up each toothpick and dip it in the sauce before popping it in your mouth.

He had also ordered you a bottle of cherry coke, which he knew was your favorite, and placed it on the tray with the lid unscrewed and a straw peeking out of the bottle next to a glass of ice, just incase you wanted it that way instead.

You looked up at him, feeling that funny feeling in your chest like you did earlier in your kitchen, blown away at how he always seems to think of everything he can to help you out, even when you’re not injured.

You must’ve been looking for longer than you realized, because he cocks his head at you, confusion present on his face.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what’s wrong. “Did you not want sushi? I thought you said it was always the one thing that could cheer you up?”

You shake your head at him. “No, sushi is perfect,” you tell him, a small smile on your face as you look up at him.

He smiles back for a few moments, then started scooting the coffee table towards you so you don’t have to reach to grab your food. He moves around the table to sit beside of you, the size of the small table causing him to sit so close to you that you can feel the warmness of his large thigh against yours.

You once again think about all of the things he’s done for you without you even having to ask. Now including coming over after a game—no doubt exhausted and sore—and taking care of you without even thinking twice. Braiding your hair and calling you pretty. Staring at you unintentionally wearing his t-shirt. Modifying your food so it’s easier for you to eat with one hand.

You sit there, staring at the man you fear you’re falling in love with, already planning out the apology text you’re going to have to send your mom.

[yvaineseleneposts]

Vacation Eyes

A/N: Based on vacation eyes by the Jonas Brothers (I mean have you seen the Tiktoks?!)

Requested: no

Pairing: Nico Hischier x reader

Words: 1k

Warning(s): none

The warm summer night air swept through the city, the sounds of the ocean waves breaking against the shore in the distance, and the occasional murmur of people enjoying the late-night hours. Nico Hischier was leaning against the railing of a small balcony, his hands in his pockets, staring out into the vast dark sky. The moon was bright, and there was something calming about it, something that made all the tension from the day slip away.

But what really caught his attention was the figure beside him — you, standing just a few feet away, your silhouette softened by the glow of the moonlight. You wore a smile that made Nico’s heart beat a little faster, something that had been happening more often lately.

Tonight, it was just the two of you. No cameras, no distractions — just the quiet of the night and each other. He couldn’t help but steal glances at you, his mind drifting back to all the moments that had brought you here. The laughter, the teasing, the quiet comfort of knowing that you understood him in a way no one else did.

“I can’t believe all the things we’ve been through,” Nico murmured under his breath, the lyrics from the song on his playlist filling the space between you.

You turned toward him, a curious look in your eyes. “What was that?”

He smiled softly, glancing at the moon. “Just something I was thinking about. All the things we’ve been through, you know?”

You nodded, taking a step closer, your body a perfect fit against his when you gently leaned into his side. “Yeah,” you said with a sigh. “But it doesn’t matter, does it?”

He shook his head, lips brushing the top of your head as he spoke. “It doesn’t. Not when it’s just me and you, and the moon.”

You grinned, lifting your gaze to meet his, the soft moonlight accentuating the sparkle in your eyes. Nico’s heart skipped a beat as you looked at him, those same eyes that had captivated him from the very beginning.

His hand slipped from his pocket, the familiar weight of a small joint resting between his fingers. “You want one?” he asked, raising it slightly in front of you.

You laughed lightly. “You’re always offering me that thing.”

He shrugged playfully. “I think you like it more than you admit.”

You took it, your fingers brushing against his as you held it in your hand. Nico watched you with that fond expression you were so used to seeing. There was no rush, no pressure — just the two of you, in your little world.

He couldn’t quite explain it, but when you were around, it felt like time slowed down. He could forget about everything else — the weight of his commitments, the expectations of being the captain, the responsibility. All of that faded when you were with him. When it was just the two of you, Nico felt like he could breathe, like he could be his truest self.

You took a long drag, the smoke swirling around you in the cool night air. “I don’t need my feet in the sand,” you said, exhaling slowly, the words flowing with the same rhythm that had become so familiar to him.

Nico grinned, his own carefree smile lighting up his face. “I don’t need the beach either,” he said, his voice low and warm. “When your body’s up in my hands…” His words trailed off as he moved closer, slipping his arm around your waist, pulling you just a little tighter against him.

You tilted your head back, your face so close to his that he could feel your breath on his skin. You were so perfectly in sync, your hearts beating to the same quiet rhythm.

“Vacation eyes,” Nico whispered, almost like a secret. “And you’re looking so summertime fine.”

The phrase always made you smile. Every time he said it, it was like an inside joke between the two of you, a shared moment that didn’t need to be explained.

Through all the moments of stress, the long seasons, the highs, and the lows — when you were with him, nothing else mattered. It was as if the world around you disappeared, leaving only the comfort of each other.

“Through all this rain, through all this pain,” you murmured, finishing the lyrics. “I feel the same, Nico.”

His arms tightened around you. “Me too. I feel the same.”

And for a moment, the entire world seemed to fall away. The noise of the city, the problems waiting for both of you — none of it seemed important. All that mattered was right now, this shared moment between the two of you.

He pulled you in for a soft kiss, a promise of more nights like this, more quiet moments under the stars. A gentle squeeze of your hand, the touch of your lips, and the knowledge that no matter where life would take you both — you’d always have these moments. The moon, the quiet, and Nico’s arms around you.

This was it. This was all you needed.

And Nico would have vacation eyes for the rest of his life.

[leaentries]

i wanna leave so many marks and scratches on nico that in the locker room the boys are just 😟

fuck…if yall could see into my mind rn…

-

just licking every inch of his skin— your teeth nipping at the defined ridges of his abdomen and chest. your nails are raking down his back as your fingers dig into the dense muscles. nico’s a groaning mess while you claim his body and skin as your own. one of his hands grips hard onto the headboard as he tries his best not to collapse on top of you. his hair is messy and tousled, falling over his forehead, his brow scrunched in pleasure. nico’s hips move inside you, stroking fluidly as the both of you lose your breath to each others bodies.

the next morning he walks into the locker room, eyes heavy from the previous night. some of the guys are at their assigned stalls, stripping and changing for morning skate. nico sets his bag down, reaching up to grab the back of his shirt and pulls it off in one motion before tossing it into his bag.

an immediate whistle echos through the room, “whoa, cap!” jack’s playful voice rings out, “someone had a long night.” some of the other players begin to chime in.

“where do i get me one of those?”

“does she have a friend?”

“nico got himself a little freak.”

“shut up,” nico mumbles as he tries to hide the way his face flushes. he makes his way to a mirror, his eyes widening slightly as he realizes the full extent of your marks. angry red scratches trail over his sides and back, adorned with purple marks over his chest and abs. he makes his way back to his stall, pulling on his gear quickly before picking up his phone and typing out a text.

neeks: all the boys loved what you did to me 🙄

neeks: be ready by the time i get home, schatzi. you’re not leaving the house until my name is spelled across your ass.

[ebsmind]

THREE POINTS | nico hischier x fem!reader

summary : after the devils have finally had enough with their losing streak, you make a bet with nico, however many game points he gets against the bruins is how many times you get to cum. good thing nico was determined.

word count : 1.8k

warning(s) : 18+ MDNI, smut, oral sex (f!receiving), dirty talk (kind of? idk), dom!nico, this is also not proofread and that’s it i think!

a/n : i started writing this at midnight and i wanted to do it in one sitting but i was TIRED so i finished it when i woke up. i hope this is good bc this is my 3rd time writing smut and i for once actually TRIED and went into writing this confidently. ALSO i got the idea right after they won the game against the bruins so i just had to bless yall with something 😋 OKAY BYE ILY ENJOY!!!

The waning crescent’s luminous hue reflects upon the New Jersey city. The street’s usual busy nature has died down. There's still half an hour left of the day. Most people have gone to bed, ready to start another Thursday. Thank God it’s nearly Friday, but the day hasn’t ended for you. 

Waiting for Nico to return home from a game always took an hour and a half. No less, nor more. So, when Nico pushes the front door to your shared apartment at a striking 11:37, knowing him he checked the mail, it leaves you to no surprise. The overview from the living room gives you a perfect view of the front door. You watch his every move from the sofa, the tailored cushions sit softly upon your skin. He closes the front door and locks it, a loud ‘click’ goes off to confirm that the lock is in place. The mail is the first thing to be tossed, it hits the counter with a soft ‘smack’, and next goes his keys, which were pulled from the left pocket of his trousers. With a sigh, Nico’s left hand runs over his face and once it reaches his chin, he looks forward and makes eye contact with you. 

“Hi, baby.” His accent is still prominent when he speaks, but you find it adorable. He starts walking towards in your direction, you toss the beige linen blanket off of your lap and rise from the couch in response. You take a total of 2 steps before Nico reaches you. Your arms find their place upon Nico’s shoulders almost immediately. His, upon your waist. A whiff of soft vanilla musk hits your nostrils, Nico took a shower at the arena rather than at home. 

“Congrats on the win, my love.” A soft smile forms upon your face. The win was a long time coming, Nico had been working his ass off the past week and it paid off tonight at the Prudential Center. 

“How many points, Schatz?” As Nico questions you, you attempt to break away from the hug but to no avail, Nico’s hands don’t plan on leaving your waist anytime soon. 

“Three, three points.” Your response leaves your mouth almost immediately.  You know where this was going, as promised before he left for the game against the Boston Bruins.

While Nico was picking out his suit for the arrival of today’s game, a quick thought appeared in your head. You stalk quietly behind him, he’s deciding between a classic black suit and a darker red, almost burgundy, tailored suit. Nico can feel your presence behind him, and he turns to face you. 

“I think the black one, no?” As he questions you, his right-hand raises. He’s holding a black tie, and in the other hand is a tie that matches the burgundy suit. You take a second before you give your input. The black suit was a classic but had already been worn, the burgundy has yet to be worn. It’s fairly new, Nico got it back in November but wanted to wait for the right moment to wear it. 

“Black but no tie, you’re going to take it off before you even get to the arena." Nico takes no time to face back in his original direction, taking the black suit that's draped on a wire curtain and returning to the bedroom. You follow suit, watching Nico place the suit on the bed. A soft 'thud' rings in the air when the suit hits the white linen comforter. Before Nico can take a step to head over to the dresser that sits just under the 55-inch flat Roku TV to put away his ties you cut him off with a question.

"Can we make a bet?" Nico reaches the dresser and pulls the drawer open, as he folds the ties he answers your question.

"What kind of bet, Schatz?"

You take a small breath before telling Nico the thought that had crossed your mind nearly minutes ago. "If you score or get any assists, you get to make me cum as how many times you do."

To your dismay, Nico isn't appalled by your suggestion, in fact, he almost challenges you.

"What do I get if I don't?" He's facing you now, hand resting against his hip. A smirk is spread across his lips, he's amused by your proposition. You pause since you didn't even get to think about what would happen if he didn't get any game points.

"I get to finally tie you up." You return his amusable smirk, two can play this game.

"I think we have a deal baby."

The soft squeeze against your hips brings you back from the semi-distance memory. You tilt your head up and look into Nico's dark chocolate-pooled irises, his face written in desire. Before you can form a proper thought, Nico's head tilts into your own and his lips are set against yours. The kiss is soft but as his lips entangle with yours it grows with need. His right hand surfaces up from your hip to cradle your jaw, keeping you in place. Nico deepens the kiss by swiping his tongue into your mouth, as much as you try to fight for it, he won’t let you win. He’s finishing something you started, determination is all that Nico is running off of. You run your left hand up his neck and rest it once your fingertips feel a light fuzz. Deciding to wait to play with the hair on the back of his neck, you’ll drive him crazy later. 

At the speed of a lightning strike, Nico picks you up by the waist with one arm, the other previously on your jaw, and finds its place against the back of your thigh. The skin exposed from the small floral shorts that Nico plans to discard later. Nico maneuvers the pair for you to the dining room and places you on top of the cool walnut-colored dining table. His lips finally escape yours, instantly finding themselves on your collarbone in record time. Nico places small kisses upwards on your neck and once they reach a spot they are all too familiar with, his teeth sink into the soft skin. A soft gasp leaves your mouth but then is conceded by a moan when Nico soothes the small ache by running his tongue over the semi-red spot. The sound released from the back of your throat goes straight down into Nico’s slacks. Your grip tightens against the back of Nico’s neck, never wanting him to stop. 

Nico quickly detaches himself from your neck to pull off the oversized New Jersey Devils crewneck that you wore. He takes a look at your chest and notices the lacy fabric that hugs the swell of your breasts. The 6’1 hockey player lowers himself to where his lips rest right above your ear and whispers, "You drive me fucking crazy, Schatz."

A blush forms across your cheeks as a response to Nico’s statement. Nico has finally had enough and decided to finally put himself useful to his bargain of the bet. He kneels in front of you, eyes connecting with your clothed core. A small wet spot appears on the floral-printed cotton shorts that rest against your hips. His hands come up from his lap and head towards the waistband of your shorts, he grunts to signify for you to lift your hips. Your hands help you steady yourself against the wooden table when you lift your hips so Nico can discard the main article of clothing you have on. Once Nico tosses your shorts and panties aside, he gets a hold of your right leg and lifts it to place it against his shoulder. Before he continues, Nico looks up at you, eyes connecting once again. You take notice how Nico’s pupils look inflamed, filled with lust.

Nico takes hold of the leg that's perched up against his shoulder and slowly starts to kiss his way up your leg. Starting at the base of your ankle to your inner thigh, never breaking eye contact. It’s crazy to think how Nico knows how to get you so hot and bothered quickly but you weren’t one to complain. Especially seeing him on his knees getting ready to devour you. 

Before Nico digs in for his midnight snack, he brings his hands to rest on your waist once again. He guides you to sit at the edge of the table. He finally has full access to your sweeping wet core and without a second left to spare, his mouth makes contact with your folds. He licks a stripe from your core to your clit. Your head tilts back and a low moan escapes your body like a prayer, as if Nico is the god you praise upon. 

Your right hand leaves its place against the table and immediately finds a refugee in Nico’s damp hair. Your fingers run through his rich deep brown locks, encouraging Nico to take a step further. Your hips buck closer to Nico’s mouth when he inserts his ring and middle finger into your mound. The pornographic moans that form from the soul of your chest are a symphony to Nico’s ears. Your hips start to grind into Nico’s mouth, he knows you're close. 

“Look at me, baby.” He pulls away from your clit, his fingers never leaving your mound. You obey, like a good girl. Nico’s tongue finds itself back onto your clit, in response a soft whimper leaves your mouth. The more Nico indulges into your mound, the more you can feel yourself falling apart. Your gummy walls start to contract and Nico knows you need one final push to get yourself on the leaderboard. With one final flick against your clit and stroke into your core, you come undone. Your body convulses, eyes flutter closed, and all you see is black. 

After a couple of seconds, you’re brought back to earth. Nico stands, towering over you, he’s licking his fingers clean of your juices. Once his ring and middle finger leave his mouth, he uses that hand to bring up a chair. It screeches against the tile of the floor. Before Nico sits on the chair, he removes his trousers. Carefully placing them on top of the dining room table. Once the chair is positioned right in front of you, he sits. His legs spread open, his hard length pressed against the soft fabric of his black boxer briefs. You still have yet to move from your spot on the edge of the table, legs still feeling like jelly after an earth-shattering orgasm. Nico opens his mouth to command one thing. 

“Come on, Schatz,” he pats his thigh, “You still have two more to go.” 

[aleskie]

ANYTHING THAT CAN GO WRONG WILL GO WRONG | Nico Hischier x Reader

SUMMARY: Nico wants to marry you. He's more sure of that than anything else. Things just aren't going according to plan.

Warnings: no warnings, just fluff and a lil bit of murphy's law -> happy endingggg!! Author's Note: I'm baaaaaack~~~ Happy 2025! Here's a quick lil thing to start us off this year! Thanks for tuning in MWAH

If there was one thing Nico was sure of, it was that he wanted to marry you.

He wanted to plan a wedding with you—debating seating arrangements and floral designs, choosing party favors, and having all the little arguments couples have before they find a compromise. He wanted to go on a honeymoon, maybe to Costa Rica like he’d always dreamed, or maybe somewhere else you’d want to go. Maybe both. It didn’t really matter to him, as long as you were together. He wanted to see you walk down the aisle, knowing he’d be wiping away tears as he watched you walk closer to him, step by step, towards your shared future.

He wanted to carry you across the threshold of your new home, to go furniture shopping and hang pictures on the walls. He wanted to decorate a nursery, pick out toys, and watch you laugh as you played with your child—a little person who was so perfectly both of you.

From waking up beside you each morning to arguing and making up, to coming home to you after a long, tiring day—he wanted it all. He wanted everything with you: the good, the bad, and all the imperfect, fleeting moments in between.

He has it all planned out. He’s gotten a reservation at the restaurant you had your first date in, complete with the course you had the very first time you went. Unfortunately, they said he couldn’t just reserve a specific table but they did offer him a private area that overlooks the city, so it wasn’t too bad. He’s made sure they have your favorite wine on hand, and your favorite cocktails too just in case you were feeling it that night. 

After dinner, he’d take you to the ice cream parlor where you’d kissed him on the cheek for the very first time. He’d already called to confirm they still had that one niche flavor you loved—the one he was pretty sure only you ever ordered. Then, to end the night, he’d bring you to the little bookshop café where you’d shared your first real kiss.

There, he’d tell you he loved you. He’d tell you how much your smile and your laugh meant to him, how you made him a better person because you inspired him to be the best version of himself. Because he wanted to be the best person for you. He’d list all the little things he adored about you, and then he’d say what he’d been holding in his heart for so long: he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He wanted to grow old together, hand in hand.

And then, he’d kneel down and ask you to marry him.

If he was lucky—and he knew in his heart he would be—you’d say yes.

So, why has nothing been going his way?

Summers in Switzerland were one of Nico’s favorite things in the world. The weather, the views, the precious time spent with his family—Nothing could beat it. The cool breeze that wasn’t too cold, the ideal weather for hiking through the nearby mountains with his siblings, the serene lake perfect for lounging and sneaking in lazy afternoon naps—it was heaven. Most importantly, he got to see one of his favorite views: you lounging around in your swimsuits. The summer music festivals also added to the magic, offering nights filled with dancing to everything from EDM beats to indie melodies, with stolen kisses tucked between songs. Everything was just…perfect.

But it was during what was supposed to be an idyllic lake day that things began to unravel.

He and Luca were on the porch, getting the grill ready for lunch. They worked and chatted side by side, oiling the grates, filling the drum with coal, and securing everything in place. From the corner of his eye, Nico spotted you and Nina lounging by the pier, chatting and sipping the margaritas you’d mixed earlier. You were all smiles, relaxed in a way that made his heart swell. He loved how effortlessly you fit in with his family. It only strengthened the resolve in him to officially make you a part of it.

He gave Luca a pat on the back before heading toward you, his steps light, his mood lighter.

“Well, we’ve talked about it, but maybe we’re both not there yet,” he heard you say as he approached, “I mean, I am. But I don’t know if he is.”

“Oh, you’re both there,” Nina replied confidently, her voice teasing and certain, “Trust me.”

“You think so?” Your voice softened, and Nico could almost picture the way your lips curved into a smile. As he got closer, curiosity stirred in his chest. What were you two chatting about? There wasn’t much you hadn’t discussed or aligned on. Communication was a cornerstone of your relationship.

Then Nina spoke again, her voice laced with the telltale looseness of someone a little too tipsy. And just like that, everything clicked.

“Oh, honey, you should’ve seen the ring!”

Nico froze, his stomach flipping. He saw the instant regret flash across Nina’s face—eyes wide as she processed saying something she shouldn’t have.

“What ring?” you asked, tilting your head in curiosity, the gears in your mind already beginning to turn.

But Nico wasn’t about to let you connect the dots. Not yet.

“Nina!” he called out, his voice cutting through the summer air as he quickened his pace, “Luca needs you with the grill!”

Nina turns back, a wave of relief flashing across her face as she downs the rest of her drink in one swift motion. "Tell him I’m coming!" she calls out, her voice a little too cheerful as she rises from her seat.

Before rushing off, she leans down to give you a quick hug, murmuring just loudly enough for Nico to hear, “I didn’t say anything.”

Nico rolls his eyes as she brushes past him, clearly trying to cover her tracks. The damage was already done, but he wasn’t about to let it spiral further.

He stalks closer, his annoyance melting away as his gaze settles on you. You’re lounging in one of his shirts, the oversized fabric falling to the middle of your thighs, the sleeves brushing your forearms. The way it drapes over you makes his heart flutter—like you belong to him in the most effortless, natural way.

“Hi, baby,” he says, his voice warm as he leans on the armrest of the thick lounge chair you’re perched on.

You look up at him, your brows slightly furrowed, your lips parting as if to speak. He knows that look—you’re trying to piece together what Nina let slip, to draw some kind of answer from him without having to ask outright.

He doesn’t give you the chance.

Reaching down, he picks up the margarita you’d been nursing and takes a slow, deliberate sip, all while keeping his eyes on yours. “Mmm,” he hums appreciatively. “This is good. You make the best drinks, you know that?”

“Honey.” Your voice is sharp with curiosity, your eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “What ring is she talking about?”

He chuckles, a soft sound meant to disarm you as much as his grin—a grin he hopes doesn’t betray his nerves. “Nina’s just had a little too much to drink. It’s nothing you need to worry about.” He shrugs, aiming for nonchalance.

Not yet, anyway.

You tilt your head, skepticism written all over your face. It’s clear you’re unconvinced, and Nico can feel a bead of sweat trickling down his back despite the cool summer breeze. He knows you well enough to sense that you’re on the verge of figuring it all out. He also knows you’re kind enough to let him off the hook, to leave the surprise intact—if only because you love seeing him squirm just a little.

A knowing smirk tugs at your lips, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “Alrighty,” you say, drawing out the word teasingly. “If you say so.”

Nico exhales a small breath of relief, his grin widening.

“Did Luca actually need help with the grill,” you ask, arching an eyebrow, “Or did you just want to steal my drink?”

He laughs, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Who knows?” he murmurs, handing the glass back to you.

As the two of you settle back into the quiet, the soft lapping of the lake filling the space between you, Nico can’t help but smile to himself. He’d already bought the ring—in the exact cut you wanted, with the metal band you’d once hinted was your favorite—and it was scheduled to arrive soon.

The moment Nina had so carelessly hinted at was fast approaching, and he couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when it finally happened.

It was rare for Nico to have an entire free day to spend with you, which made the moments all the more special when they came around.

The day had started perfectly. He woke up to find your arm draped across his middle, your soft breaths tickling his skin. For a moment, he stayed there, watching your peaceful frame, memorizing the way the morning light kissed your face. Eventually, he slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb you, and made his way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

When you woke up, you found him at the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease. The smell of bacon and coffee filled the air as you padded over to wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek against his back. You ate together, sharing syrupy bites of pancakes and stealing sips of each other’s coffee.

After breakfast, you both moved to the sink. It turned into a dance of domestic harmony—you washed the plates while he dried them, sneaking in playful splashes of water that made you both laugh.

Later, you got ready together. In the shower, he lathered shampoo into your hair while you ran soapy circles across his back. When you stepped out, he sat you on the bathroom counter, your lips forming a dramatic pout as you begrudgingly trimmed his beard.

By mid-morning, you were tangled together on the couch, a blanket draped over you as a show played in the background. His arm rested beneath your head, your legs stretched across his lap. It was his own little slice of heaven, perfect and untouched by the outside world.

And then, you said you had errands to run.

“It’ll only be for a few minutes,” you promised, stroking his head with a teasing grin as he groaned in protest.

“Fine,” he relented, though his pout remained firmly in place. He basked in the soft kiss you planted on his lips before you grabbed your bag and turned to leave.

The door clicked shut, and the silence that followed felt too loud. He sighed dramatically, sinking deeper into the couch. Reaching for a pillow, he hugged it against his chest, letting it stand in as your replacement.

With you gone, he turned his attention back to the show, finding himself unexpectedly drawn into the plot. Still, every so often, his mind wandered to you—wondering how long the errands would take, what you might bring back, and how soon he could coax you back into his arms.

He sighs. Even a few minutes felt too long without you.

It takes an hour for you to return, your tote bag filled with simple ingredients for a late-lunch-early-dinner combo. Nico perks up from the couch as soon as he hears the door open, his pout fading into a grin. In your hands, he spots a small brown package, which you place on the kitchen island before unloading the groceries.

“I ran into the delivery guy on my way back,” you explain casually, arranging the fresh vegetables in the fridge. “This came for you.”

“Ah,” he says, pausing the show he was watching. “Must be the hoodie I ordered a few days ago. I was wondering when it would show up.” He glances over, smiling. “Wanna open it?”

“Open my new sweater?” you tease, shooting him a knowing look as you retrieve a pair of scissors from the drawer. “Don’t mind if I do.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. He knows full well that every hoodie of his eventually finds its way into your closet.

Carefully, you slice open the tape and pull apart the packaging. But instead of a soft bundle of fabric, you reveal a small box, no larger than the palm of your hand.

You pause, curiosity piqued. It doesn’t look like a hoodie, and for a moment, you think maybe it’s one of his surprises for you—a pair of earrings or a delicate necklace, perhaps. With a small smile, you lift the lid of the box.

Inside, nestled against a soft velvet lining, is a ring.

It’s not just any ring. It’s the ring. The one you’d described to him in passing all those months ago. The gemstone, the cut, the metal band—every detail is exactly what you’d envisioned, as if he’d plucked the idea straight from your heart.

Your breath catches, and your vision blurs as tears spring to your eyes. It’s not just the ring—it’s what it represents. The thought of him listening so carefully, of him tucking away every detail you’d shared, hits you like a wave. You already knew he loved you, that he listened to you, but seeing it embodied in something so meaningful overwhelms you.

“Baby?” Nico’s voice pulls you back. He’s standing behind you now, concern etched on his face. “What’s wrong?”

You turn to him, your lips trembling as you hold up the small box. His eyes flick down, and the moment he recognizes it, his heart drops.

The very box he chose so carefully. The very ring he agonized over, wanting every detail to be perfect for you. The very thing he’d been planning to surprise you with, just a few weeks from now.

For a second, neither of you speaks. The air feels charged, suspended between panic and love, between what was supposed to be and what is now.

“I…I wasn’t supposed to see this, was I?” you finally say, your voice soft, tinged with both awe and regret.

He rubs the back of his neck, letting out a breathy laugh. “No, not quite yet.”

You place the box down on the counter, turning to him fully. “But you were going to ask me?”

He looks at you, his nervous energy fading as he takes your hands in his. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah,” he admits. “I was.”

“You want to marry me?” Your voice trembles, thick with emotion.

He nods.

The tears fall freely then, happy and unrestrained, as you throw your arms around him. His hold on you is firm and protective, his heart pounding against your cheek as you press against his chest.

“The answer is yes,” you whisper, your words muffled by his shirt but carrying all the weight of your feelings. “You know that, right? It was always going to be a yes.”

“I know.” His voice is soft as he kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering there. “But I want to do this right. I’m going to propose properly—on one knee and everything.”

You lean into his touch as he cups your cheek, his thumb wiping away a stray tear. “Is that okay?” he asks, his gaze earnest.

You smile, your heart filled with nothing else but love for the man holding you in his arms. “It’s perfect.”

Today was the day.

After months of careful planning, of waiting for just the right moment, Nico was finally going to ask you to marry him. Every detail had been meticulously thought out, adjusted, and readjusted after that fateful day you accidentally found the ring.

The memory still made him cringe. He’d quickly hidden it in a new, foolproof spot (his gym bag—a place you never ventured) and rescheduled everything. The bookstore café was unfortunately booked for an event tonight, but the ice cream parlor was still part of the plan, and the dinner reservation at the restaurant where you had your first date was secured.

He’d chosen tonight—your anniversary—for the proposal because it felt just right. The date was sentimental enough to mean something but obvious enough for you to dismiss it as “too cliché.” It was perfect. You would never see it coming.

“Nico, can you help me zip up my dress, please?” Your voice called out from the changing area of your shared bedroom, pulling him from his thoughts.

He turned to see you standing in front of the mirror, the white dress he’d picked out for you half-zipped, slipping precariously off your shoulders. You looked stunning—effortlessly radiant, like you always did—but tonight, something about seeing you in that dress made his heart skip a beat.

“Of course,” he said, his voice soft as he walked over to you.

His hands brushed lightly against your back as he grasped the zipper, pulling it up slowly. But he couldn’t resist leaning down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder. Then another, and another, his lips trailing up your neck in a way that made you laugh softly, tilting your head to the side to give him more room.

“Nico,” you chided, though your tone was anything but stern.

“What?” he said, grinning against your skin. “You’re gorgeous. Can you blame me?”

He finally finished zipping up the dress, his hands lingering on your waist as he turned you to face him. “You’re breathtaking,” he murmured, his eyes focused on yours.

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t hide your smile. “You’re just saying that because you picked the dress.”

“Maybe,” he teased, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. “But you’re always breathtaking to me.”

Your cheeks flushed, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at the sight. He was going to make you blush like that every day for the rest of your lives, starting tonight.

“Whatever you say, Captain Smooth-talker,” you said, shaking your head but still smiling, “If we don’t leave soon, we’re going to miss our reservation.”

He nodded, his heart racing with anticipation. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

He took a deep breath as he grabbed his jacket. Tonight was the night. By the end of it, if you hadn’t changed your mind, you’d be his fiancée.

The two of you arrive just in time to be seated at the table Nico had carefully arranged. The private area overlooked the city, the lights from the streets below twinkling like a sea of stars. It was breathtaking, but not nearly as much as the way you looked as you gazed out at the view.

“Honey, this is beautiful” you say, your lips curving into a soft smile as you sat down.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he replied smoothly, earning an eye-roll and a bashful grin from you.

The waiter arrived promptly to take your drink orders, and soon, the meal began. The first plates brought out were appetizers—delicate and artfully arranged. But Nico knew you well enough to know that, for you, the true star of the opening act wasn’t the small plates but the breadbasket that accompanied them.

“God, this bread is amazing,” you said, your eyes lighting up as you took a bite.

Nico chuckled, watching you enjoy the fresh, crusty loaf slathered in butter. “I had a feeling you’d like that.”

“You know me so well,” you teased, reaching for another piece.

“I try,” he said with a chuckle, though the statement carried more weight than you realized. Tonight was all about how well he knew you—what you loved, what made you happy, and what kind of future you dreamed of.

The entrees arrived next, perfectly timed to follow the appetizers. Nico tried to focus on his meal, but his mind was racing. The ring in his jacket pocket felt heavier than it had any right to, as if it was reminding him of the significance of what he was about to do.

He stole glances at you throughout the meal, his heart swelling every time you laughed at something he said or leaned closer to share a bite of your dish. You were the person he was going to spend the rest of his life with, and tonight, he was going to make it official.

As the plates were cleared and the waiter offered dessert options, Nico mentally rehearsed what he was going to say. He cycled through his bullet points, recalling the memories he wanted to highlight—the milestones, the quiet moments, the inside jokes only the two of you understood. Every detail of your relationship had led to this moment, and he wanted to do it justice.

While you shared a slice of cake, he alternated between admiring the way your eyes lit up with every bite and fine-tuning his speech in his head. The sound of your laughter when you joked about how you could live on this dessert alone was enough to settle his nerves for a fleeting moment.

“Here,” he said, offering you the last bite of cake with a smile.

You took it gladly, humming in delight as you savored the sweetness. Nico couldn’t help but grin. This was what he loved most—seeing you happy, knowing he was part of the reason why.

He shifted slightly in his seat, reaching for his jacket draped over the back of his chair. This was it. The moment he had been planning for months. Everything was about to fall perfectly into place.

His fingers slid into the inner pocket, brushing against the fabric as he searched for the small velvet box.

Except it wasn’t there.

His heart stopped.

He stilled, trying not to let his expression betray the rising panic inside him. Discreetly, he checked the pocket again, this time more frantically.

Nothing.

His breath hitched as he patted down every pocket—inner, outer, even the ones he knew he wouldn’t have used. It wasn’t there.

Panic tightened in his chest.

You tilted your head, noticing his sudden fidgeting. “You okay?”

“Uh—yeah,” he said quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Just…thought I forgot something, but it’s nothing important.”

It was a lie. A big one. Because what he’d forgotten was the most important thing of all.

The ring.

His mind raced, retracing his steps from earlier in the day. And then it hit him like a freight train. It wasn’t here. It was still at home, tucked away in the hidden compartment of his gym bag where he’d stashed it months ago for safekeeping.

Fuck.

He glanced at you, trying to keep his composure. You were oblivious to the turmoil raging inside him, busy taking a sip of your drink and remarking on how beautiful the view looked under the night sky and how the restaurant has always been one of your favorites.

He was supposed to be getting down on one knee right now, asking you the question that had been on his mind for what felt like forever. Instead, he was sitting here empty-handed, grappling with the colossal oversight that threatened to derail everything he had planned.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Resigned, he sighs quietly.

At least you’d still get your ice cream afterwards.

For the rest of the night, Nico’s heart raced as he scrambled to act normal, though he knew he was failing miserably.

“You’re acting weird,” you said from the passenger seat, concern etched on your face as you took another bite of your ice cream. “What’s wrong, hun?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. “Just…a little tired, I guess.”

Understatement of the year.

You hummed in response, a little unconvinced, but quickly launched into a happy recount of the night—the food, the breathtaking view, how much the evening reminded you of your first date. Nico nodded along, forcing a smile and interjecting when he could, though his mind was racing. He was relieved to have deflected your attention, but the frustration simmering inside him was relentless.

How could he have forgotten the one thing that mattered most? The question plagued him, cycling in his mind like a broken record. He needed to clear his head, or else the night would spiral even further.

Without warning, Nico pulled over to the side of an empty road, the car coming to a gentle stop next to an open field bathed in moonlight.

“Nico?” you asked, confused as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. You watched him for a moment, his silhouette illuminated by the glow of the streetlights and the faint flicker of fireflies in the distance. Concern gripped you, and you quickly followed, calling after him as he walked into the field.

“Nico, what’s wrong? Please, just talk to me,” you pleaded, your voice soft but insistent as you reached him.

He turned to face you, his expression shadowed by a mix of guilt and vulnerability. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at you—really looked at you. The way the light caught in your eyes, the slight furrow of your brows, the way the wind tugged at your hair. Even like this, worried and uncertain, you were breathtaking.

A pang of guilt hit him like a punch to the chest.

Taking a deep breath, Nico reached for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “I wanted tonight to be special,” he said, his voice low and almost apologetic.

You tilted your head, confusion softening your features. “What do you mean? It’s our anniversary—it is special.”

“Not like that,” he said, shaking his head. He stepped closer, his hesitation palpable. “I…I forgot something tonight.”

Your frown deepened. “Did we leave something at the restaurant? We can always go ba—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice a little firmer this time. “It’s not about the restaurant. I forgot something important, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t do what I wanted to do.”

“Nico?” you asked again, your voice laced with curiosity and a flicker of nervousness.

He closed the distance between you, pulling you closer until you could hear the rapid thrum of his heart. His hands trembled slightly as they held yours, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

“I’ve been planning this for months,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted everything to be perfect—the dinner, the timing, all of it—even the ice cream. But I messed up. I forgot the ring.”

You blinked, the words sinking in. “The ring?”

His gaze softened as he looked deeply into your eyes, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. His hand lingered, his fingers cupping your cheek gently. “Yeah,” he said, his voice steady despite the rapid pounding of his heart. “The ring I was supposed to pull out tonight. The ring I picked out because I knew it was exactly what you’d want. The ring I got because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your breath hitched, tears welling in your eyes as his words settled over you like a warm embrace. Your lips trembled as you watched him drop to one knee, his hands enveloping yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

“I don’t have the box with the ring. And I’ve completely forgotten everything I’d planned to say.” He let out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “But know this—I love you. Even now, especially now, when all I have is me and my love for you.”

He pressed a kiss to your hands, his touch reverent, as though grounding himself in the moment. Then, his voice dropped to a whisper, earnest and raw. “This isn’t the perfect proposal I had in mind, but I have to ask…”

He looked up at you, his eyes glimmering with sincerity and hope. “Will you marry me?”

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to still. The gentle rustle of the grass, the soft hum of crickets, the distant glow of fireflies—it all faded, leaving just the two of you.

Then, like a dam breaking, laughter bubbled out of you—a breathless, joyful sound that lit up the quiet night. Without hesitation, you dropped to your knees, pulling him into a kiss so fervent it knocked the two of you backward onto the soft grass. He landed with a gentle oof, his arms instinctively wrapping around you as you hovered over him, your tears mingling with your smile.

“Yes,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. “A million times yes.”

Relief and pure, unfiltered happiness coursed through him, his grin widening as he pulled you close, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. “I’ll make this up to you,” he promised, his voice muffled against your shoulder, though there was a lightness in his tone now. “The perfect ring, the perfect proposal—I’ll do it right.”

You pulled back slightly, shaking your head with a radiant smile. “You already did.”

He smiles and pulls you into another kiss. The fireflies danced around you, the world continuing on, but for you both, time felt suspended—an endless moment of love and joy and a future that had just begun.

[hischierhoney]

I KNOW

Nico Hischier x Hughes sister!reader

• Off Limits Pt 2 • 6.2k words

Summary: Things between you and Nico are going well, but the two of you might not be as sneaky as you think.

Warnings: mild sexually suggestive content, 18+ MDNI

You don’t think he’s noticed yet. In all fairness, he’s pretty used to seeing you in a Devils jersey. It’s what you’d been wearing when the two of your first met, and most times you saw each other after that. Especially now that two of your brothers are on the team, you’re almost always wearing some form of NJD gear. This jersey is different, though.

Nico’s been at practice for most of the day. When you met him at his apartment, you'd taken the liberty of grabbing one of his jerseys from his closet and slid it over your head, and for good measure, ditched your pants, too. You’re waiting on the couch in nothing but the jersey, which he probably would’ve realized if he wasn’t so busy organizing all his gear, and telling you about the practice, and trying to eat a bit of the pasta you’d brought him all in the middle of it.

You see it when he notices, and you hear it, too. His talking stops, and his gaze freezes on you, on where you sit on the couch, bare legs crossed over each other. He blinks a couple times, and then his eyes grow even wider.

“Nice jersey,” he says, voice suddenly an octave lower.

You crane your neck to look down at the number 13 emblazoned across the shoulder and the captain’s C on the chest. “Oh. Had to rep my favorite player, you know.”

He nods, makes a sort of low humming noise. You just smile up at him, watching the way his cheeks flush. If you’d known it would have this effect on him, you’d have gotten yourself one of his jerseys a long time ago. Maybe before he even rescued you from that bar.

His gaze drags up and down your body. “Schatz.”

You cock your head and blink softly. “Yeah, Nico?”

He sets his plate down on the coffee table. It’s still half full of pasta. You watch him with soft eyes as he takes a few steps towards you, lips barely parted. He beckons you towards him with two bent fingers. You go without even thinking twice, up off the couch in seconds, the jersey falling to your mid thigh.

When you’re within arm’s reach, his hands come up to hold your shoulders, rubbing up and down gently. His eyes are all over you.

“Did you steal this from my closet?” He asks.

You nod, chewing on your lower lip. “Hope that’s okay.”

Nico rumbles out a laugh. He shakes his head, and then he brushes his lips against your temple, down the crest of your cheek, and against your jaw. He takes a couple steps, turns slightly, and then spins you around in his grip, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your back tight against his front. You gasp at the maneuver, and your eyes flicker up to his reflection in the floor length mirror in front of you.

He’s not looking at you. Instead, his eyes are on your upper back- his last name, across your shoulders, you realize.

His eyes flicker up to meet yours. Your face is hot, the rest of your skin getting there, too. There’s a look on his face- a mix of awe and affection and attraction. He presses a soft kiss behind your ear and takes a deep breath.

“It’s more than okay,” he says. One of his hands slips down to your bare thigh, toying with the hem of the jersey. “You should keep it on.”

You lean back against him, resting your head against his shoulder, never breaking eye contact in the mirror. “Yeah?”

He nods, and his hand slips up your thigh so he can squeeze your bare hip. He raises his eyebrows when he finds nothing there- no fabric, no underwear. You raise your eyebrows right back.

“But you’d better find some pants,” he says, nipping lightly at your jaw, “‘cause we’re going on a date.”

He’s gone within seconds, leaving you reeling. Your heart is racing, chest heaving, and he’s just- gone. You look at your reflection in bewilderment.

“What?” You call after him, turning around. “Nico, where are you going? What are-“

He pops his head out from around the hallway corner, and his cheeks are red and rosy. You almost stumble towards him, but something makes you stay planted there. Maybe this was too much. Maybe you’re coming on too strong.

“We’re going on a date,” he repeats. “Keep the jersey, find some pants. I’m taking a quick shower.”

You blink at him. “You just showered. Your hair is wet. You’re being weird.”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “Yes. I’m taking a cold shower. The jersey worked, schatz, but I have a date planned for us.”

Then he disappears. You hear the shower kick on a few seconds later, and the shocked yelp that follows. You turn back to the mirror and laugh at your reflection.

20 minutes later, you’re in his car. He’s freshly showered, and you’re wearing his jersey and a pair of leggings. He has his hand on your thigh, like he always does any chance he gets, away from prying eyes. You rest your hand on top of his and run your fingers over the veins. Five minutes out from your very secretive date- he hasn’t given you any details- he tells you to close your eyes.

“C’mon, it’s a surprise,” he says, squeezing your leg.

“But Nico-“

He laughs and lifts his hand, placing it over your eyes. You squeal and try to pull it away, but it’s no use. He’s stronger than you, keeps your vision covered. You whine about it the whole way, but he just teases you the entire time.

When the car rolls to a stop, he leans close and whispers in your ear, “keep your eyes closed for me?”

You squeeze them shut tighter than you ever have before. He opens his door and shuts it, then opens your door and pulls you out of the car. You laugh the entire walk, as he keeps his hands on your hips and leads you in. There’s a squeaky, heavy sounding door, echoing footsteps on tile floors, and nothing but the darkness of your eyelids. And then- cold.

“Are we at the rink?” You ask, stopping in your tracks.

He groans, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. “How the fuck did you figure that out?”

You laugh and reach blindly for his face, pinching his cheek lightly. “Nico, all of my brothers play hockey. I know ice rinks.”

He sighs heavily. You turn around in his arms and open your eyes, face to face with him. His gaze is soft and warm even though he’s pouting.

“Why are we here?” You ask.

He shrugs. “You said… after the family skate you mentioned how you wished we could’ve skated together. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So. I thought we could have our own skate.”

You swear you melt into a puddle, right there at his feet. “Oh. Wow. That’s-“

You lose the ability to say anything other than the words that have been stuck on your tongue for weeks now- I love you. He just kisses your cheek and drags you away to the locker room. Within a few minutes, you’re stepping out into the arena as he turns the lights on. They shine down on the empty rink. You’ve almost never been in here when it’s empty like this. It feels strange. You’re used to being a part of the roaring crowd, used to cheering on the team from the sidelines.

Nico helps you lace up your skates, and then he walks you out to the ice, so carefully it makes your chest feel tight.

“I know how to skate,” you tell him.

“I know,” he says, kissing your temple.

Despite that, he keeps his hands on you when you get out on the ice. You know it’s not about making sure you don’t fall, and you think back to dates when you were a teenager, boys suggesting ice skating because they thought it’d be an easy excuse to hold your hand. You’d skated circles around all of them. But Nico’s a professional hockey player, and you want to hold his hand, so you let him take both of yours in his, facing each other, and you smile when he starts to skate backwards and pulls you along.

He’s so at home here. You’ve seen it when you watch the games, but it’s more obvious now, watching the way his face lights up as he skates. It’s so endearing, and it makes you feel warm from the inside out. This is his thing, and you get to share it with him, at least for a little while.

He spins the both of you in a circle and glides to a stop. You bump into his chest and laugh, pulling your hands from his to wrap your arms around his middle. He laughs, too, and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“This is nice,” you say. “You know, when I was a kid, the boys made me be the goalie.”

Nico snorts out a laugh. “Were you any good?”

You shake your head and sigh. “They’d put me in a fucking dirtbike helmet, and I was too small for any of the pads and they smelled bad, so they’d tie pillows around me, and… yeah. I was a bad goalie.”

“Why’d you let them?” He asks, sounding mildly concerned.

You shrug. “I was being a supportive sister.”

He laughs and pulls away just slightly, holding you at arms length. His hands slip from your sides and come up to cup your face, and then he kisses you, warm and sweet and gentle, like he always is at first with you. He tucks your hair behind your ear as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips and pressing against yours. Suddenly, despite the ice and the cold, you’re burning up. He tends to have that effect.

He pulls away sooner than you’d really want him to, but you let him go. There’s plenty of time for more of that. He pulls away fully and stands next to you on the ice, looking down the rink.

“Race me?” He asks.

“That’s so not fair,” you grumble.

“I’ll give you a head start,” he suggests.

You narrow your eyes at him, and then without even thinking, you take off across the ice. He’s hot on your heels within seconds, but the quick takeoff is enough to buy you a few precious seconds. You only lose by a couple feet when both of you slide to a stop at the other end of the rink, laughing so hard neither of you can stand up straight. He skates towards you and sweeps you up off the ice, wrapping his arms around your middle and spinning as you cling onto him and laugh even harder.

The happiness is bubbling up in your chest, and it feels nearly overwhelming. It’s been a long time since you’ve been with someone who makes you feel like this- happy and carefree and fun, and like you can be all those things without worrying about what he’s going to think. He sets you down carefully on the ice and pulls your back to his front, resting his chin on your shoulder.

He points up into the stands, at a row of seats that looks familiar. “There’s your seat,” he says, the words washing over the skin of your neck.

Your breath catches in your chest. Your seat isn’t a front row one- it’s pretty far up in the arena. From the ice, it looks far away and tiny. You’re not sure you’d be able to spot yourself all the way up there, let alone when it’s crowded with people and the ice is busy, when there are so many people clamoring for attention.

“You know my seat?” You mumble, pressing one of your hands over his.

“Mhm,” he says. He takes your hand in his, raises it and points towards the seat. “Right there, right? Under the screen. I always wave.”

He does. And not just since you started dating- you can remember your second ever Devil’s game, watching him glide around on the ice, and the way he paused in your corner and waved. The same spot, every game you’re at.

You nod. “Yeah. I just. I thought that was just you saying hi to the crowd.”

He laughs and kisses the side of your neck softly. “Next time, I’ll blow you a kiss or something so you know it’s for you. Maybe flip you off. Stick my tongue out. You’ll know it when you see it.”

You nod in agreement and turn around to face him. You lean up to press a kiss to his lips, and that’s when you hear it.

“Hello?” A voice calls out.

Nico swears in German under his breath and then pulls you close, until you’re right against him, your face hidden against his shoulder. For a moment, you panic- you’re wearing your jersey, whoever it is will see your last name- except it’s not your jersey, it’s Nico’s.

Nico swears again, then calls out, “Just me, Jesper!”

“Nico?” Jesper calls back, sounding confused.

You hear footsteps, and Nico sighs. He keeps your face pressed into his chest, one hand on the back of your head. You’re fighting hard not to laugh. The footsteps slow, then stop, and Nico lifts one hand from your shoulder to wave.

“Oh, Hischier, you’re in trouble,” his teammate teases, whistling lowly.

“What, you gonna tattle on me for sneaking into the rink when you’re doing the same exact thing?” He asks.

“I’m not sneaking in, I saw your car outside and came to check on you,” his teammate says. “And I know a Hughes when I see one.”

You feel the rumble of Nico’s groan in his chest, and a giggle slips past your lips. You try to pull away, but he holds you tightly to his chest. You’re the one grumbling now.

“Lemme go, he already knows,” you huff.

“He has no proof, baby,” he says.

“Don’t need proof,” Jesper calls out.

“Shut up!” Nico calls back.

“Tell me to shut up again and I’ll call Jack!” He says back. You groan. “Or! You know what, I think I’ve got Quinn’s number-“

“No!” Both you and Nico yell, as he finally lets you go and you both spin to face Jesper.

Jesper laughs, doubling over on the edge of the rink, shaking his head. You falter a bit on your skates, and quick as a whip, Nico slips his arms under yours to hold you up. You grumble, but you’d rather not faceplant on the ice, so you let it go.

“Oh, he’s gonna kill you,” Jesper says, still laughing.

“Which one?” Nico asks.

“All three,” he responds, finally standing up to look at the two of you. “Team effort, probably.”

You sigh, though you know it’s probably true. Nico squeezes your side affectionately. You wonder what the look on his face is right now. You turn over your shoulder and you’re met with nothing but affection, even in the face of his teammate’s threats.

“Don’t worry,” Jesper says. “I’m not gonna tell ‘em.”

You hold your breath. Behind you, Nico’s doing the same.

“He’s had a crush on you for ages,” Jesper says, and Nico groans, loudly, and buries his face against your shoulder blade. “I’m proud, honestly. Never thought he’d get the balls. And maybe this means you’ll finally stop third wheeling my dates, huh?”

“Okay, goodbye,” Nico says, as he starts to skate backwards and pulls you with him. “We’re having a date, you know.”

Jesper makes a face at him. You know Nico’s making one back. He waves, though, and walks away, headed for the exit. Nico sighs happily and pulls you closer to himself. In the empty arena, your heart feels full.

…..

Nico leaves for a road game the next week, and you whine about it the whole time he’s packing. He whines right back, about how your whining makes it harder to leave, which you remind him is sort of the point.

“You’re supposed to be a supportive girlfriend,” he says, teasingly.

You pout. “I’m very supportive. I go to all your games. So really, it’s about time you missed one to support me.”

It’s not the first away game he’s had, nor will it be the last. It’s just hitting you hard this time. You think it has something to do with the way you look at him and think, oh, I love you, every time. It’s making your chest ache.

He rolls his eyes playfully and juts his lower lip out. “Oh yeah? Should I put in a text to the team group chat? Sorry boys, can’t go, my girlfriend is pouting. And then they’ll say, ‘you have a girlfriend?’ and-“

“Obviously I don’t mean it,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. “But I’m gonna miss you.”

He leans over the edge of the bed where you’re sitting, hands braced on either side of your hips. He’s suddenly so close, and your breath catches in your chest. He smirks.

“I know,” he says. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

He lifts a hand to your side and pushes- you fall back against the bed easily. You’d had your legs crossed, but they unravel and fall to either side of his hips as if on reflex as he looms over you. He rubs his large hands smoothly up your thighs, over your sides, and then he rests them on the bed, on either side of your head, caging you in. You’re warm all over, suddenly.

“You’re not done packing,” you whisper, tugging a stray t-shirt from under your head.

He leans close, runs his nose along your jaw, and sighs. “Mm. Packing can wait.”

You frown. “You said-“ you’re interrupted when he presses a soft kiss to your jaw, then nips at the same spot with his teeth. You reach up and tangle your hand in his messy hair. “-said you wanted to pack early-“

“Yeah, that was stupid,” he grumbled. “How the fuck am I expected to pack when you’re sitting so pretty right here?”

You scoff. “Nico-“

He lets out a noise of dissent, reaches down, and takes both of your hands in one of his. Then he pins them above your head, squeezing softly. You choke on your breath. He pulls away, warm brown eyes on yours, and you swear you’re melting.

“Is that okay?” He asks, quietly.

“Please?” You answer, voice cracking on the word.

He laughs and ducks his head back to your neck. “That’s my girl.”

An hour later, he’s less packed than he was when he started, because he’s gone digging through his suitcase to find you a hoodie to wear after he took your clothes off of you. You tell him he’s being ridiculous. He just smiles, kisses your forehead, and pulls you into his arms. You fall asleep with the suitcase still on the bed.

…..

He calls you from the hotel the first night he’s there, after he gets off the plane and has dinner with the team and gets settled. You’re definitely not sitting in bed, staring at your phone, waiting eagerly. Well. Not as far as he knows. When it buzzes on the comforter, screen lit up with his face, you let it ring three times before swiping to answer so you don’t seem crazy. You’re so casual about this.

“Hi,” you breathe, and you know you’ve failed miserably at casual with just one syllable.

“Hi, baby,” he laughs down the line. You can almost hear the smile in his voice.

Warmth curls through you, and you snuggle farther into the blankets. “How was the trip?”

He launches into a story about TSA and the plane ride. You’re happy just to listen to him talk. His voice is warm and affectionate, even as he describes all the frustrating parts of travel. You can’t help but think that he has such a nice voice. He’s so nice to listen to- you’d let him just talk for hours, if you could. You love to hear him tell you stories, mumble things in your ear while you’re watching movies on the couch, love listening to the inflection of his words when he reads you a recipe for whatever the two of you are making for dinner. You love him. As he starts talking about the stupid decision his coach has made, your mind drifts further, to thoughts of his lips against your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him, how good you feel, how-

“Schatz,” he says, almost teasingly. “You okay?”

“Hm?” You ask.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he says. The tone he takes makes your spine tingle. “You okay?”

“Mhm.” You try to take a silent, deep breath. “Yeah, just… you know. I’m fine. Just miss you.”

You almost hope he’ll drop it, because you’re slightly embarrassed, really. He’ll probably think you’re crazy.

“I miss you too,” he says, and you nearly breathe a sigh of relief. Then he adds, “now tell me what’s got you so distracted.”

“Nico,” you hum, trying desperately to come up with an excuse.

He clears his throat. “Did I ever tell you I love it when you say my name like that?”

You press your hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the sharp intake of air. He lets out a rumble of a laugh, one that carries over the phone and washes down your spine, leaving you buzzing. Oh, he knows. He knows exactly what he’s doing. You’re caught now.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he repeats. “And I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking about all day.”

You melt further back into the bed and close your eyes. “You just. You have a nice voice. I like your voice.”

“Not as nice as yours,” he says. Your skin grows hotter. “You sound so pretty. So sweet.”

With nothing but the backs of your eyelids in your vision, surrounded by soft blankets and sheets and the sound of his voice, you start to feel like you’re floating. “Nico,” you repeat. He laughs.

“You nice and cozy, baby?” He asks, voice dropping an octave and lighting up your every nerve. “Bet you’re all curled up in bed in your shorts and a hoodie, huh?”

You nod before you remember he can’t see you. “Mhm.”

“Fuck, I miss you,” he says. “It’s only been a day and I miss it. If I was there, I’d-“

He pauses, or cuts himself off, you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter. You’re waiting with bated breath, chest tight, burning up with your eyes squeezed shut. You turn your head and breathe in, deep. The smell of him is still stuck to your sheets. You could cry.

“You gonna be good for me?” He asks. “I’ll help you, alright, honey? You just be good for me.”

You nod frantically, even though he can’t see it. “Yeah, Nico. I’ll be good.”

“I know,” he says. His voice drops another octave when he says, “what hoodie are you wearing?”

“Yours,” you whine.

He rumbles out a laugh. “That’s my girl. Leave it on, but take the shorts off. Underwear, too. Gonna make yourself feel good for me.”

You shove the aforementioned pieces of clothing off, almost frantically. When you’re done following his instructions, you catch the hint of a familiar sound. His hand, slick and wet, moving over himself. Stars are already dancing behind your eyelids at the thought of it. You’re not sure you’ll be able to take much more.

“I’ve got you,” he promises.

I love you, you think. You wonder if he’s thinking it too.

You fall asleep afterwards with the phone call still going, and his soft snores soundtrack your dreams.

…..

When he calls the next night, the conversation is starkly different.

“Jack’s mad at me,” he says.

You frown, pausing your kitchen counter scrubbing. “Why d’you think that?”

Nico sighs. “Because he’s hasn’t talked to me for a whole day. And during practice he checked me into the wall.”

“I mean, maybe he’s not mad at you, maybe he’s just mad in general,” you suggest.

You can almost see the look on his face when he groans. It’s a bit scary that you know him so well, that you can picture the furrow in his brows and the soft pout of his lips.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” You ask. “I can see what’s going on.”

“If you ask why he’s mad at me he’ll know I told you,” Nico points out. “Which would be suspicious.”

You hum. “Yeah, I guess. It’s Jack, I’m sure it’s fine. He’s just a brat sometimes.”

Nico snorts out a laugh. “Must run in the family.”

You try to act mad, grumbling into the phone, but you can’t help but laugh. He follows suit. You love the sound of his laugh more than nearly anything in the world, you’ve found. It’s a terrifying, exciting feeling.

…..

A few nights later, you’re in your car, parked down the street from the rink. You have the lights off, and you’re ducked low behind the dash, praying nobody looks your way. You’d picked your parking spot specifically based on avoiding the route Jack and Luke always take to get home, and you’re praying they don’t notice your car.

Other cars start to roll out of the parking lot. You watch carefully, peeking over the hood and looking in your mirrors. You have an excuse, if they catch you, but it’s not foolproof, and there’s the added worry that one of their teammates will spot you and ask them about it. It’s risky. But…

Nico’s been gone for what feels like forever, even if it was only a few days. You’ve missed him terribly. So you offered to pick him up, and when he agreed without question and told you how much he’d missed you, too, you’d set the plan into motion. Now you’re here, so focused on the exit from the rink parking lot that you don’t notice the guy next to your car until he knocks on your window.

You scream, then immediately slap your hand over your mouth. It’s Jesper, again, of course it is- he’s leaning on the window and grinning like he’s entertained by it all, and you groan.

You roll the window down and hiss, “Jesus, man, you scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry!” He says, still smiling.

“S’fine,” you grumble. “If you saw me then my brothers will too, I should probably move.”

“No, that’s why I came to get you. I knew you’d be here, Nico mentioned it,” He explains. “He is arguing with your brothers in the locker room. Mostly Jack.”

You groan and rest your head against the steering wheel. “Of course he is.”

Jesper lets you into the building, and you wander the halls until you make it to the locker room. You can hear them arguing before you get to the door- clipped words and snappy tones. Whatever Jack’s been mad at Nico about must’ve boiled over. You decide to break in before you overhear too much, worried about hearing something you shouldn’t.

“Hello?” You call out from the doorway.

Nico turns to look at you, and your brothers follow suit. They’re scattered through the locker room- Nico’s standing in the middle, Jack’s in front of his cubby on the bench, Luke is standing in a corner. You make eye contact with all of them separately- Luke looks like a deer caught in the headlights, Jack is so angry his cheeks are flaming up, and Nico…

Nico meets your eyes and smiles, soft and warm, and if either of your brothers even spared a glance at him, you think they’d know. Or maybe, this is just how he’s always looked at you. Your heart squeezes in your chest, and you want nothing more than to run over and throw yourself into his arms. You stay put, even as he looks you up and down. Suddenly, you wish you were wearing his jersey instead of your normal Hughes one, just to see his eyes light up.

“What are you doing here?” Jack asks, gently.

He’s being nice. Almost too nice. Jack is almost never unkind to you, but he’s your brother- annoying most times, a pest all the time. The tone he’s taking with you is abnormal- he shouldn’t be so nice about you showing up here.

“Oh. I, uh, was gonna surprise you guys and see if you wanted to grab dinner or something,” you say, shrugging. “And then Jesper found me in my car and said you guys were arguing, and that maybe I should break it up.”

Jack huffs and whirls back around to glare at Nico. “You’ve got Bratter covering for you?”

You look at your brother with wide eyed confusion. Luke groans and drags a hand down his face. Nico, for his part, also looks confused.

“Jack, I-“ he tries.

“No,” Jack interrupts. He turns back to you and points. “You, me and Luke will go out for dinner. Okay? I’ll meet you outside.”

“Jack-“ Nico tries again.

“Shut up,” Jack snaps.

You need information. You need the full story. And when that’s what you’re looking for, you look to Luke. He’s the youngest, and he’s a tattletale.

“Lukey,” you start, crossing your arms over your chest. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Jack opens his mouth. You hold your hand up to him. He groans, but he stays quiet. Nico’s staring at you, entranced. Jack has always been so overprotective, and Luke, too, that you’re sure sometimes it’s easy to forget that you’re actually their older sister. That is, until now.

Luke sighs, heavily. “You and Nico are dating.” You raise your brows and gesture for him to continue. “And. Um. He had a girl in his room Tuesday night.”

Part of this makes sense. Of course they’re upset with Nico. They’ve figured out that the two of you are together, which Jack had explicitly said was not allowed. However, you’d always sort of figured that when they found out, they’d drop the overprotective act. They both love Nico, and they both want to see you happy, right?

Then you realize what the second half of what Luke said means- they think Nico cheated on you. You turn to look at your boyfriend, already knowing it’s not true for a variety of reasons, most important of all the fact that you were on the phone with him on Tuesday night. He’s giving you a pleading look, like he’s trying to convince you it’s not true, even though you didn’t believe it for a second.

You blink, then frown, then tilt your head. “No, he didn’t.”

“He did,” Jack pipes up, shoulders drooping. “Someone said they heard… noises. Of a sexual variety.”

Nico groans and buries his face in his hands. Meanwhile, you start to laugh, unable to help it now. Jack makes a noise of confusion.

“Jack,” you say, between giggles. “There are other things people can do, rather than just straight up sex, like maybe talking over the phone…”

Your brothers are silent for a moment. Then Luke groans, loudly, and covers his ears. He swings around and looks at Nico with wide eyes, then closes his eyes tightly. Jack, meanwhile, flops backwards against the wall and covers his face in his hands. Nico’s face is red. It’s not exactly how you would’ve chosen to tell them, but… it gets the point across.

“Please never say that to me again,” Jack says. “Actually, if you never say the word sex in my presence I’ll be happy.”

You roll your eyes and turn to Nico, shrugging lightly. Despite all of it, he’s still smiling at you. He looks so soft, in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, hair an unbelievable mess. You have a strong urge to run your fingers through it. Jack lets out another noise of distress, and you turn back to him.

“You asked,” you tell your brother.

“No, I did not!” He snaps. “Excuse me for being worried, I thought you were being cheated on.”

“You really think that little of me?” Nico finally pipes in, looking at his friend.

Jack pulls his hands from his face and turns to look at Nico. He sighs heavily, frowning. Nico keeps staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“No. I don’t know. I…” he sighs again. “At worst, I really thought maybe you guys just weren’t exclusive, and that was…” he turns to look at you, and jerks his head in a little nod. “Jesus, you’ve had a crush on him for forever, we all knew it, and I told him you were off limits, so then I was worried that I was the reason he was maybe seeing someone else, too, and…”

You see Nico relax at that, shoulders loosening. You’re sure it must’ve been a tough feeling, to have one of his good friends assume something like that. You’re a bit relieved, too.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Yeah. I heard. How about we agree no more of you deciding things like my dating life for me?”

Jack nods solemnly. Nico raises his hand.

“But you are officially off limits,” he says. You smirk and roll your eyes, and he smiles brightly at you. “Right?”

“Right,” you agree. “But by my own choice.”

He grins at you, and your heart skips a beat again.

“Can we buy you guys dinner to apologize?” Jack asks.

You shrug. “Maybe another day. We have plans.”

Nico nods and stands up, headed for you. He turns to his teammates. “We good?”

“Yeah, man,” Jack says. He narrows his eyes, and you fight not to roll yours, because you know what’s coming next. “But if you hurt her-“

“I know,” Nico says, warmly.

Jack nods. Behind him, Luke raises his hand, a look of concern on his face.

“So. When do we tell Quinn?” He asks.

You, Nico, and Jack exchange a look.

“Maybe never,” Jack says.

“I’m fine with that,” Nico winces.

“Yeah,” you agree. “Need to know basis.”

Nico follows you out of the room and down the hall. He slips his hand into yours as soon as you’re out of sight of your brothers. You could remind him he doesn’t have to wait now, that he doesn’t have to hide it, but you think maybe it’s for the best until things settle down. The two of you are quiet as you walk out to the car, and you huddle close to him at the chill of the night air. The car isn’t far, and the parking lot is empty. He reaches into your jacket pocket and snags your keys- you’ve learned that he hates to let you drive, not because he thinks you’re bad at it, but because he likes driving you around. It’s quite sweet, really, so you let him get in the driver’s seat as you climb into the car.

He pauses once he’s turned it on, and he looks over at you. “You said we have plans? Are we going somewhere?”

You laugh and reach up to cup the side of his face in your hand. He leans into your touch.

“Wherever you want,” you say, quietly. “Just wanted it to be me and you.”

He smiles slowly. It spreads across his face like molasses. Your heart skips a beat in your chest.

“You know I love you?” He says, like it’s so, so obvious. Like he’s just checking, just to make sure.

You nod, because you think you did know, that maybe you’ve known it since you started feeling it too. “Yeah. I know. I love you, too.”

…

You're on the phone with Quinn, nearly a week later, when you slip up. He asks what you’ve been up to, what you did the past week, if your brothers are giving you trouble.

“I’ve just been busy with work,” you tell him. “But Nico and I went to a really cute restaurant last night. I had the best seafood pasta.”

You don’t even realize what you’ve just said. You just wait for Quinn to answer, and you’re met with silence. He coughs, like he’s holding back a laugh.

“Did you mean to tell me that?” He asks, and your stomach drops.

“Fuck!”

Quinn laughs down the line, and your face grows warm. You’d forgotten- Luke and Jack know now, so it feels less like something you need to hide. But Quinn didn’t know, and Quinn is overprotective, and shit, fuck-

“I already knew. I’ve known since your first date,” he admits, and you feel your own face morph into confusion.

“How?”

“I never reveal my sources,” he answers. “But I knew something was up when he took you home from the bar and had you stay the night.”

“You’re all such gossips,” you grumble. “Why didn’t you just tell me you knew?”

He makes a noncommittal noise. “Honestly, it’s been fun to watch all of you dance around it. Once I figured out that Jack also knew, I figured he was keeping an eye on it close enough. Also… he seems like a good enough guy. Of all the hockey guys you could’ve picked, he’s up there, you know?”

You smile softly. “I really love him, Quinn.”

“Gross,” Quinn says. “But I’m happy for you.”

You look over to the front door, where Nico’s just walked in. “Yeah. I know. Hey, I gotta go.”

Your older brother sighs heavily. “Tell Hischier I said hi,” he grumbles. “And that if he hurts you-“

“He knows,” you say.

Across the kitchen, Nico smiles softly. You hang up the phone and melt into his arms.

“Bad day,” you say. “Missed you.”

“I know,” he says. “Missed you too.”

a:/n: thanks for reading! also happy b-day cece!!

[toasttt11]

sunrise

summary: what better way to stay valentine’s day than watching the sunrise together

nico hischier x reader

Nico hummed moving his face into her hair and nuzzling his nose into her hair, his eyes slowly fluttered open trying to avoid the sun that was starting to peak through the large windows.

He closed his eyes contently and softly rubbed little shapes on her lower bare back.

Nico always looks forward to the All Star break or Four Nations break now because they get to go somewhere warm and just spend all day every day together, they could spend all day in bed cuddling if they wanted to.

Nico glanced to his right out the large doors seeing the sun just starting to rise and started pressing gentle kiss to his fiancée’s neck and cheek feeling her start to smile and hum softly waking up.

“Happy Valentine’s day Schatz.” Nico cooed softly pressing a few gentle kisses to her forehead before resting his forehead against hers.

“Happy Valentine’s Day Neeks.” She softly mumbled back her hand reaching up and softly tangling her fingers in his hair getting a pleased hum in return.

“The sun is still rising.” Nico quietly mumbled his eyes still closed content, his whole body just relaxed.

“Wanna go watch?” She mumbled back just as quietly pressing soft kisses to any spot on Nico that she could reach without moving.

Nico hummed in agreement and it took a few minutes but they both slowly untangled themselves.

She got out of bed first stretching and turned around feeling Nico’s eyes on hers, “Yes?” She asked with a smile.

“We could stay in bed.” Nico grinned crookedly his eyes soaking in her standing there completely bare as if he hasn’t seen her like this before, he has but he never gets use to her and the effect she always has on him.

Her cheeks turned Nico’s favorite shade of pink and she bit back a smile, “No get out of bed.” She softly smacked his leg before turning around knowing if she stayed there to long Nico would convince her to get back in bed.

Nico smiled watching her walk away his eyes flickering up and down, “Neeks!” She called out feeling his eyes and turned around tossing his swim shorts at his chest making him laugh wholeheartedly but listen to her and get up slipping on the swim trunks.

He walked over to her wrapping his arm around her waist as she finished tying her bikini bottom.

Nico pressed soft light kisses down her neck making her squirm and quickly grabbed his arm holding his hand before Nico could continue as she knows first hand his antics.

Nico smiled amused as she started pulling him out of their room to the back patio that literally is right on the beach.

They both took in a deep breath smelling the salt in the air and hearing the waves crashing.

They walked hand and hand down the sand to the shore.

Nico grinned his mischievous side coming out and dropped her hand making her look at him just before he grabbed her thighs and easily picked her making her legs quickly wrap around his bare chest as she squealed laughing, “Neeks.” She laughed her arms wrapped around his neck.

“Hmm.” Nico just hummed back with a fond smile listening to her laugh because of them and he walked them into the later until the water just reached over her legs.

She rested her cheek on his shoulder looking at the sunrise, she couldn’t wait to celebrate the rest of her Valentine’s Days with Nico and the next Valentine’s day they would celebrate it together as Husband and Wife.

Nico pressed a kiss to the side of her head and softly rested his head on top of her head feeling content holding his girl in his arms watching the sunrise with her.