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theonottsbxtch · 2 days ago

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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

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stars1997 · 2 days ago

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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.

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