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Warm September night. 🌃🌕
#boston#boston artist#boston photo#photographer#night photo art#Brookline#prudential center#prudential building#Copley square#boston architects#boston sports#boston massachusetts#night photoshoot#night photography#cityscape#city vibes#city view#city lights#skyline#sunset#sunset photoshoot#sunset photoset#sunset photography#twilight#35 mm film#35 mm photography#night photo walk#Kennore square#city scene#beautiful views
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boston, massachusetts 1971
view from boston common
photograph by nick dewolf https://www.flickr.com/photos/dboo/26476326474/
#photography#film#color#35mm#boston#massachusetts#streetphotography#bostoncommon#buildings#building#johnhancock#prudential#construction#tower#1970s
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Chicago 🏙️
#Cloudy Sky#Mather Tower#Royal Sonesta#Club Wyndham Grand#Carbide & Carbon Building#Aon Center#Prudential Plaza#35 East Wacker#Architecture#Skyscrapers#Skyline#Cityscape#Chicago#Illinois
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could you please write a jack hughes x reader? just like cute domestic fluff nothing fancy ♡
picket fence | jack hughes x fem!reader
♡ summary: in a spur of the moment decision, jack and his girlfriend y/n get married without telling anyone.
♡ pairing: jack hughes x reader
♡ content: fluff, jack being jack
♡ word count: 1K
♡ warnings: none
♡ italics are flashbacks
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
“do you think your mom will be mad?” she asked, staring up at jack.
“oh for sure.”
“do you think my mom will be mad?”
“can’t say. never met her.”
he picked her up bridal style and walked to the car. her white cocktail dress creasing a little as he set her down on the passenger seat.
“i can’t believe how lucky i am.”
“i think i’m the lucky one.”
“nah.”
“no, i married the super hot, talented hockey player. there’s millions of girls who would kill to be me.”
“y/n, i’m the lucky one. i’ve met so many people, but you’re special. you’re like a hidden gem. my gem.”
“you’re such a sap.”
“not usually, only when given a good reason.”
he leaned over to kiss her cheek. “like you.”
────୨ৎ────
“i don’t know how you do it. i mean, you’re so fast out on the ice.”
he took one hand of the wheel and took hers. “practice, baby. lots of practice.”
“you must practice a lot.”
“y/n, of course i practice a lot.”
“i realize that now.”
“so silly. what a silly girl.”
“i can’t help it. i can’t think around hot guys.”
“interesting you mention that, because i can’t think around pretty girls.”
he just kept driving, focused on the road. only a few minutes until they were back home.
“jack?”
“yeah?”
“i love you.”
“love you too, sweetheart.”
he put the car in park and went around to open the door for y/n.
“you’re so pretty.”
“so are you.”
jack cupped her face and gently pressed his lips to hers. it was a sweet kiss, different from the ones they typically shared. there was no urgency, no frenzied urges. just y/n. just jack. just the moon in the newark sky.
“you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, y/n.”
“jack… that’s so sweet.”
“i mean it.”
“we just started dating a few months ago.”
“seven.”
“i’m sure better things have happened.”
“nah. you’re it for me, y/n.”
“what?”
“marry me.”
“WHAT???”
“what, did you want someone else to ask?”
“no, i mean, it’s so soon-”
“yes or no, baby.”
“what if you realize you don’t love me?”
“not happening.”
“but jack-”
“trust me, love.”
────୨ৎ────
their little house was a cute two story in the suburbs of newark. close enough to the prudential center for jack, while also being in a good area for any and all future kids they would have. there was a park just down the street with a big open field and a playground. jack tested the slides himself.
the house itself was perfect. a nice backyard with a shed for y/n’s garden supplies and a trampoline the previous owner’s left. an open floor kitchen with an island, a cutesy chandelier in the dining room, a marble mantle on the fireplace. the garage was big enough for their two cars and the bikes jack had bought “just because”. every room in the house had been decorated by a somewhat bored y/n, with plants and paintings in every room. her favorite piece was the courthouse picture of her and jack, framed above the fireplace.
“so this is home now,” jack said, watching his wife (!!!) fluff the pillows on the couch.
“we always had a home. just now it’s a building too.”
“i love you so much.”
“i love you more.”
“nah,” he picked her up and placed her on his lap, “i love you the most.”
she nuzzled her face into his shoulder. “i love you times infinity.”
“you’re supposed to let me win,” he said with a pout.
“have you heard the phrase ‘happy wife, happy life’?”
“happy jack, happy f-”
“that’s enough.”
they kissed again, perfectly content in each other’s company.
────୨ৎ────
“jacky?”
“yes, baby?”
“i need a white dress.”
“how come?”
“you asked me to marry you!”
“i knew that.”
“you’re terrible.”
“you love me.”
“i do.”
he kissed her, his hands weaving through the strands of her hair.
“c’mon baby, let’s go find you a dress.”
────୨ৎ────
y/n tossed and turned in bed, unable to fall asleep. jack had been gone for the past couple of days for a series of road games. and to make matters worse, her mom had called.
“y/n, your father and i would like to meet that boyfriend of yours. what was his name? jake?”
“jack.”
“yes, jack. that’s the one. is he around?”
“no, mom. business trip.”
“what does he do again?”
“y/n?”
“please be something respectable.”
“he’s a hockey player.”
“that’s not sustainable. he won’t make that much mo-”
“yes, he will. he plays for the devils.”
“excuse me?”
“jack hughes.”
“your boyfriend is jack hughes?”
“no. my husband is jack hughes.”
“husband?”
“we got married a few weeks ago.”
“and you didn’t tell me?”
“it was a sudden thing.”
“we’ve never met the guy.”
“i’m sorry, mom.”
“i didn’t raise you to be like this.”
she just needed jack to crawl into bed, to hold her the way he held her every night, his arms around her waist, his face buried into the crook of her neck.
but he was in chicago. almost 800 miles away.
────୨ৎ────
“baby? i’m home!”
jack closed the front door and set his bag down.
“y/n?”
she poked her head out from the bedroom.
“jack?”
he ran to her, sliding a little on the wooden floor. jack picked her up, spinning her.
“i missed you, baby.”
“i missed you more, jacky.”
he pressed his nose to hers. “you look sad.”
“me? no.”
“y/n.”
“what?”
“can’t help if you don’t talk.”
“my mom called.”
“what’d she say?”
“she’s disappointed.”
“how come?”
“probably because i married a pro hockey player without her knowing.”
“yeah that’ll do it.”
y/n buried her face in his chest. “she’s pissed.”
“maybe we should visit?”
“maybe. for now though, you owe me cuddles.”
“what??? since when???”
“since you left your wife alone in the middle of december.”
“alright, alright. lead the way mrs hughes.”
tags: @verycoolusername1 @tomskookie @dream-girl06 @skepvids @devilinpradaheels @r0wdymaize86
join the tag list to stay updated
#jack hughes#jack hughes fic#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes x reader#nj devils#njd#jh86#newjerseydevils#౨ৎ azure writes <3#nhl x reader#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#nhl players#fluff#new jersey devils
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casualties
☆ n. hischier ☆
summary: you & nico agreed to keep things casual, but ten seconds into the third period of tonight’s home game & a costly injury changes the fate of your affair indefinitely. (warning: mentions of bodily injury, allusions to smut, and a reference to my blurb, ‘learning the game’ — read at your own discretion!)
genre: angst + happy ending
word count: 3.9k
You swear the last eight seconds were a nightmare Nico would wake you up from with his husky voice and dewy lips against clammy skin. As the gaps between his eyelids remain dazed, and the grimace on his face persists, though, you find yourself pinching the skin on your forearm for confirmation. What you just witnessed on his flat screen wasn’t a figmentation—the team captain you love was undoubtedly harmed on the ice. It is a vast juxtaposition to the end of the second period, where he’d scored his second natural hat trick of his career and beamed under the rain of toques, baseball caps, and what looked to be a fairly immodest brassiere. You take no acknowledgment of the last-mentioned and instead celebrate with him as though you are in the rink with the rest of the chanting crowd. At one point, you whipped out your cell phone and texted him: So proud of you, call me when you can! <3 In the quiet apartment located on the outskirts of New Jersey, you cheered boastfully during the swap of the goalie nets, and squealed to nobody in particular, “That’s my boyfriend!”
There was nobody you could announce it to. As far as your friends and family know, your relationship with Nico hasn’t passed into the territory of exclusive, which was true at the start. A few coffee dates here, and a Sunday hike there are all that you’ve indulged their prying ears in for the last year. The late-night phone calls, extra team hoodie with his last name and number emblazoned on the back, and key to his home you now shared stayed confidential. Even Nico’s teammates–the ones he would go as far as to call “brothers”--probably knew less than your mother did.
The idea of keeping your relationship private never bothered you much, though. You’d never been the type to kiss and tell. (A hottie lamottie ice hockey captain is no exception.) Plus, Nico’s inclination to protect you from both the limelight and vulturous media teams made the option to object when he insisted it would be best for the two of you a moot point. Were you exhilarated by the late-night rendezvous spent in some hole-in-the-wall dive bar, or the thrilling mission to keep what you two had like a dirty little secret? Not necessarily. But you trust him with your whole heart, and that is reason enough for you.
★☆★☆★ ★☆★☆★
“Any reason for the undercover gear?” Nico’s eyes did all the gesturing for him as he viewed your ensemble. He vowed to be the only person present at The Prudential Center (or “The Rock” as he refers to it) for your private tour of his workplace. True to his word, the arena is soaked in an eerie silence with only two bodies occupying it. Minus the rooting fans, referees and red uniforms, it could pass for a game night. He refused to spill how he managed to have this okayed by the building owners, management, etc. You remembered him shrugging at your gawk when he first proposed it, flashing his teeth as he answered, “Perks of being captain.”
This time, it was you who played innocent. As you stared up into his curious eyes, you hoped he wouldn't read your lustful intentions easily. “Just wanted to try something new.” The khaki dress mimicking a trench coat skirted your calves as he guided you past the bleachers, penalty boxes and player seating. When you adjourned to the locker rooms, an unmistakable flare of sweat and metal singed your nostrils but Nico paid no mind to it. As long as he’d been working here, he’d probably ask what smell you’re referring to if you commented on it.
“Alright, Schatz, let’s put some gear on you and I think you’ll be ready to skate.” Nico unlatched the hinge to a spare locker, where spare padding was stowed away from prying eyes. While his back was toward you, a tentative hand began toying with the bound knot at the front of the gown. “I hope you don’t run cold, I forgot to sneak an extra pair of gloves in here since the last game. What are you wearing under there anyway?” He turned back to face you and stiffened at the sight of your naked figure, and the aforementioned dress forgotten in a pile beside you.
“Oh…” He didn’t hesitate to approach you with a slow-building smirk. Mirth lingered in his eyes as his fingers took purchase of your hips and drew your body closer to his. A chill trickled down your spine from the icy fingerprints that left indents on your skin, and you could feel your nipples begin to harden with the lack of cloth. Scratchy chuckles echoed throughout the room, as desire rolled off of you in waves. The mutual yearning was palpable in his voice.“Guess that answers my question.”
“What can I say? We wagered. And I’m a woman of my word.” A delighted hum escaped him, as he started rubbing teasing circles in the spaces of your lower ribs.
“That you are.”
The wager in question was a spur-of-the-moment stake you offered last night prior to the game. You were wishing him luck from the other side of the phone after flipping to the channel the game would be broadcasted from, and his confidence was deflating by the second as he rambled on about how the last few practice days were going awry, and the games before those were an even bigger shit show. He needed motivation, and you were elated to offer it.
“Why don’t we make things interesting?”
“What do you mean?”
Biting your lip, you asked him “Is anyone around?”
“Just me. Why?”
“Every goal you score, I’ll reward you.”
“Reward me, huh?” His voice morphed into a more uppity tone. “How so?”
“Use your imagination. And tell me what you come up with…good luck, baby.”
“Wait, Y/N-” You hung up the phone before he could ask if you were insinuating what he thought you were. No more than an hour later, he’d be scoring the first natural hat trick and beaming for two different reasons.
“I’ve thought of a few different ways you could reward me…” his hot breath and coarse mustache tickled the shell of your ear as he pressed a kiss below it. “You ready?”
“I’m all yours, cap.” Minutes later, the placid locker room was overflowing with moans and pants and other debauchery.
★☆★☆★ ★☆★☆★
“I’ll tell you now folks, this is the nastiest hit we’ve seen one of the Devils take in a while. Let’s see that again.” Per the commentator’s cue, the television and all its high-definition project the casualty from a new (and arguably better) angle. The rubber puck glides in the air of the rink after being whomped by the stick of an opposing team member. Against the wall of the rink, Nico never takes his eyes from the disc until the last moment, when a burly player sporting a jersey of differing colors checks him harshly against the bordering plexiglass, and the wobbling saucer collides into the shield protruding from his helmet.
You couldn’t hold back your wince at the gruesome replay, much like analysts who are now rattling off about a possible power play for the home team. You wish to see how bad the extent of his injuries truly are instead of what caused them with a small clue that “Hischier will be taking a visit to the sports med in the dressing room for that one.” The camera cuts back to his red jersey retreating past the stands as he clutches his side and limps away with assistance from one of the refs. When the cameraman pans over to the sanitization team scraping crimson droplets from the ice, you are already exiting the door with Nico’s car keys clutched in a fist.
Amidst your night drive to Prudential Stadium, you listen hopelessly to the radio static while flipping from station to station. The dimly lit street lamps and traffic only build your anxiety to new heights, as you cruise through any side roads at her disposal. “Come on, come on…” you murmur, unsure if the plea is for the next station to be discussing tonight’s game or hoping the wind will catch your begs and carry them to Nico’s ear. The unharmonious crackling and overplayed pop hits persist, before being broken up by two familiar voices.
“...been a monumental night for the New Jersey Devils as they’re close to celebrating the fifth win of their season.”
“Yes.” You hiss victoriously.
“And it looks like we’re still waiting on an update from the medical team on the captain, Nico Hischier, who took a pretty hard hit earlier tonight.” A knot slowly tightens in your stomach as you press your foot to the gas pedal and barrel through a yellow light. “It didn’t look pretty when he was being escorted off the ice, and I know some fans watching the game tonight are pretty devastated. The rest of the team is staying determined though, as the opposing player at fault only got put in a two-minute penalty during the powerplay at the beginning of this quarter.” Your grip around the steering wheel tightens.
“Bastard shouldn’t be allowed back on the ice at all.” You spit.
As you navigate through the congested arena’s parking lot for a free space, you feel foolish. What would he think to see you in person at one of his games? Drawing unwanted attention and interrogative questions about the relationship that neither of you had discussed proper answers to is all the reason for keeping this affair hush-hush. Would he pretend like you’re just another fan in the crowd supporting her home team? Would he drop his eyelid in a wink and skate off with a smug smirk? More importantly, what would you do in that position? How would you even get inside without a pass—
How are you expected to be let inside at all?
Before you can fall victim to a deeper thought spiral, the sound of your boyfriend’s name brings your attention back to the radio.
“And it looks like the medical team is coming to us with an update on Hischier. We’ll be back with that after these messages from our sponsors.”
“Unbelievable.” You scowl and lean back against the rough polyester car seat. The silence and not knowing are becoming torturous for you minute by minute. Sparing a glance in the rearview mirror, red watery eyes woefully greet you. “Please be okay, baby, please…” You cry out, yearning for his warm embrace or his fuzzy voice to sing you a lullaby or scruffy beard to tickle your skin in between relieved kisses. “Please be okay.” Your voice comes out raspy as you turn your gaze to the glove box. Feeling sticky and snotty from the tears, you unlatch the compartment’s handle and relish in the sight of his secret stash of drive-thru napkins. Your clammy, trembling hands grab a few for good measure but halt at the sight of a red, velvet cube peeking out of the rest of the impromptu tissues.
You peer from car window to car window, observing the empty parking lot and settling your gaze back on the box. Wasting no more time, your napkin-free hand rushes to grab it and flick on the interior light in the process. You fling the lid open and almost begin crying again. The gemstone encrusted in diamonds glints beneath the yellowed wash, and it takes little time to deduce that the ring wasn’t a simple splurge, but one of the first steps to forever with Nico.
As the commercials over the radio conclude, your phone begins buzzing in sync with it. Jumping in fright, you delicately close the box to tuck it away in your hoodie pocket. The phone illuminates the inside of the car even more with a photo of Nico taken just a month ago.
★☆★☆★ ★☆★☆★
His eyes peeled open at the sound of a camera shutter, and your whispered swears. The cool bed sheets splayed over your bodies coaxed him awake, as he exhaled sharply through his nose, and while you fiddled distractedly with the volume of your phone, Nico took the chance to tighten his hold on your hips and position himself above you. You squeaked between devious giggles, hand still clutching your phone with a small smile. He drew his face closer to yours and relished in the sweet aroma of your conditioner. In a few instances, his hair reeked of the same sugary fragrance and you had to bite back a smile at his usual excuse: “s’not my fault yours smells better.”
“Whatcha doin’?” He asked innocently.
“Nothing.” Your response was just as harmless, but his eyes flickered down to the phone being pressed further against your chest, and he quickly became skeptical. He emitted a low hum, and you bit your lip to shield a grin.
“That so?” He tried again.
“Yup.” The answer is curt and accumulated more suspicion when complemented by reddened cheeks. Another low hum escaped him as he nuzzled his bearded face into the crevice of your neck and shoulder. After he pressed a chaste kiss to your skin, he rambled something in German, far beyond your comprehension.
“Du hast glück, dass ich dich liebe, Schnügel.”
“You love me and want to…snuggle?” You tried translating anyway and earned a few quiet laughs in response. The vibration of his laughs against your body kindled a homely warmth in the depths of your stomach. You never dealt with the fabled butterflies when it came to Nico, only a burning comfort that never seemed to be extinguished.
“I want you to show me what you’re hiding.” He once again attempted to reach for your phone, which you slid beneath the pillow, barely out of his grasp.
“Uh-uh, don’t think so.”
“Is it a sequel to Hockey for Dummies?” He guessed. You scoffed and shook your head.
“Nope.”
He gasped and raised his eyebrows. Something tantalizing swirled in his eyes as he continued to prod, “Is it…a naughty picture of you?” His voice lowered to a whisper.
“No.” You whispered back and giggled, squirming embarrassed beneath him. “You got to see all of me last night, anyway, perv.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He shrugged. “So what is it then? Do you have a secret shrine dedicated to me that you’re adding to, or something?” You snorted and rolled your eyes.
“If a couple of old t-shirts and a bottle of your shampoo count as a shrine, then yes. That’s precisely it.” He gasped.
“That’s all?” Feigning agony, he flopped down to his original spot on the mattress. Like a soldier wounded on the battlefield, his hand that was once teasing the skin around your hip reached up to clutch his heart. “Here I was, thinking you truly loved me. I have books you’ve read, a blanket you’ve knitted, even the perfume you wore to dinner last night.”
“Maybe because I brought that bottle of perfume over last night, you goof.” The knitted blanket was gifted to him last winter by her, too. You’d be more offended had he not mentioned it. Playfully, you poked him. “Anyway, I’d probably have more of your stuff to show off if you…” Your voice trailed off, as did her gaze on the comforter still haphazardly covering them. Nico knew where you were going with the sentence, though. He admitted to you and himself on several occasions you weren't deserving of the commute to his home, nor the excuses of work always getting in the way of nights they could be spending together at your humble abode. And humble, it was. The first night he stayed over at your studio apartment he felt like he’d been crammed into a pintrest-ified dollhouse. You argue that the limited space makes it more “cozy” .
“I know, meine liebe, I know." His hand rose to entangle in her locks, and the feeling of his digits as they ran through her messy tendrils was near orgasmic. You reached to reclaim her phone beneath the pillowcase and frowned at the screen which still displayed a photo of him as he blissfully snoozed.
“Sometimes it gets hard, not waking up next to you.” The realization dawned on Nico, then. This was not about having two separate places to talk, eat, and sleep together whenever they preferred. It’s about the fact that they have not discussed narrowing it down to one. He shifts his gaze to the nightstand, where your retainer case stayed. Then they flickered to the top drawer of his chest, where a piece of your cheeky briefs dangled precariously on the corner. Your body wash settled in the corner of his bathtub rail. You, a mesmerizing sight to behold as you laid lackadaisical in his shirt and under his sheets. Nico concluded he didn’t want bits and pieces anymore. He wanted the whole damn package. He wants all of you.
“Come on, up.” He insisted as he jostled her arm.
“Huh?” Confused, you followed his lead and crawled out of bed anyway to join him at the foot of it. “Where are we going?” He couldn’t hide his grin. There had been no him or her since their first month together. It was always both of them.
“To make a copy of my house key for you.” Your eyes widened, and now he’d felt unsure for jumping at the opportunity. “Unless you plan to pick the lock every time I’m not here–”
Your body collided with his in an instant, aglow with radiance and devotion for the man that stood in front of you. “Yes, please.” You answered as though it were a proposal, rather than a gentle command on his part.
Proposal. He pondered the word to himself on the drive to the nearest handy store, sparing glances at you every few moments that you weren’t looking back. Is that what’s next for the two of you?
“Did you want to stop for coffee on the way? You never got to make your morning cup.” You gently reminded, before adding with a sly smirk, “Plus, we did keep each other up pretty late last night.”
But Nico didn’t need to keep second-guessing with you.
All the answers were simple because all of them were yes.
★☆★☆★ ★☆★☆★
Through her discovery and onslaught of tears, you muster a fond smile and answer the call.
“N-neeks?” You get out through stuttering breaths.
“Love, are you crying? What happened?” You wanted to hug him and slap him across the face at the same time for the idiotic question.
“What do you mean ‘what happened?’ Twenty minutes ago you got slammed to the floor and a hockey puck to the face, that’s what happened!” You catch a quiet wince on the other end of the line and are now wanting to slap yourself. “Are you okay?”
“I’m…I’m fine.”
“Nico…”
“I swear I’m okay. Just had a bruised rib and a couple of cuts on my cheek. The sports doctor just left and cleared me for our game two weeks from now.”
“No broken bones?”
“Nope.”
“Heart’s still beating?”
“It better be, or my girlfriend’s gonna kill me.” He coughs out a few laughs, but you can feel the hurt behind them.
“Um…I was so freaked out when I saw them lead you to the dressing room that I drove here.” You sniffle, looking up at the car’s roof.
“Wait you–you’re at the stadium right now?”
“Yeah, pretty stupid of me considering I can’t go inside.” Nico wants to ask what’s stopping you before it dawns on him; you have no ticket, no pass to the locker rooms, not even acknowledged to be related to any member of the team like the other WAGS (“As in Wives and Girlfriends” he remembers you telling him).
“Meine Liebe, where are you parked?” Amidst all of the turmoil tonight’s put the two of you through, you manage a dry laugh.
“Nico, you can’t sneak out in the middle of your own game.” Part of you hopes his injury warrants omitting the post-game interviews, photo ops, and everything else in between, so you won’t be wasting much more time in the humming car.
“What? No, of course not.” He insists, “I’m sneaking you in.” Your laughter turns to a choke.
“Excuse me? That’s a ridiculous idea!” You want to add the fact that nobody would recognize you, let alone be as amicable as they are to Nico. As pure as your intentions are, you’re still a stranger. A foreign body. (And to some very appreciative fans, a threat.)
He exhales something between a breath of relief and a humored laugh. You hear it bounce off of the locker room walls. “Petal, I don’t know if I can hide you any longer. I-I don’t want to. Do you?” He volleys you the question, and the weight of the velvet box nestled in your pocket increases ten-fold.
“No. I don’t think I’ve wanted us to be a secret for a while…” You admit through a wobbling lip.
“Where are you parked?” He asks once again. The buzzer sounds through his end of the phone, and this time you aren’t reluctant to answer.
His appearance was like a car wreck you couldn’t look away from. The disheveled hair (once slicked and combed) and patchwork of bandages and bruises on ivory skin was gut-churning to view up close, but before you could properly scold him, his swollen lips were greeting yours in a sentimental reunion. Bodies we’re filing into the corridor as you did so. A chattering stream of staff, coaches, players, and WAGS come at you head on like a wave.
“Woah, Hischier! We leave you alone for half a period and you manage to find a girlfriend?” A deep, accented voice slices through the invisible line your mouths convene at, and you turn your attention to the source. A brawny figure topped with blonde hair marches up to you in a striking red jersey matching Nico’s. You glance at the number 63 on his sleeve, and it only confirms your assumptions. Jesper Bratt was exactly as Nico described him to be, chaff jokes and all.
Another body donned in red pushes past Jesper’s to stand before you. He leans down, and says with a monkeying smile and voice just loud enough for those around to hear, “Ma’am, if you’re in any danger, blink twice.” You glance down at his sleeve, too. 86. Luke Hughes, you think, or is it Jack?
“Oh, fuck off!” Nico’s arm stretches out to shove him away, before situating the limb around your waist. When his hand bumps into a firm object poking out the side of your pocket. He stiffens beside you immediately, and you gulp as if you’d done something worthy of punishment. Of course, you were going to bring it up one way or another to him later in the night after all the post-game chaos had ticked by, but you suppose him finding out this way works just as well. The players forming a crowd around the two of you only grows, and they’re too caught up in laughing at their antics to notice their captain’s ungiving posture.
“Well, you gonna introduce us, or what?” Luke, (definitely Luke) queries. In the center of eyes and lingering questions, Nico’s whiskey ones connect with yours for a silent proposal. Without wasting any more time, you nod.
“Everyone, this is Y/N, my fiancée.”
#nhl fanfiction#nhl imagine#nhl x reader#nico hischier#nico hischier fanfiction#nico hischier fluff#nico hischier imagine#nj devils#nico hischier angst#nico hischier blurb#hocktuah writings
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[ don’t blame me ] n. hischier
paring : Nico Hischier x fem!reader
summary : after a great performance by the captain but a loss for the devils, Nico airs out his frustrations to his girlfriend after the game and she does her best to make him feel better
warning(s) : a v frustrated nico, some yelling, angst w a very happy ending
author’s note : okay look i saw people on twt blaming nico for the ot loss against the caps and was reading what he said after the game and got all sad abt it so i channeled my own feelings into this. it’s short but full of emotion so i hope you enjoy
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Over the years, she’s seen how upset Nico can be while he does his postgame interviews. Tonight though, he seems extra distraught about the game despite his own performance.
He played an incredible game. Two goals, an assist, on the ice for four of the Devils’ five goals, and an impressive faceoff percentage. Yet, the boys in red and black lost 6-5 in overtime to the Capitals.
She watches Nico’s interview when it drops while she waits in the car for him after the game. He says they didn’t deserve to win, but she knows that he deserved that win. He barely even talked about his Devils record with those two goals he scored in ten seconds at the beginning of the second period.
Fastest two goals scored by the same player in franchise history, and he skimmed over that question and had a very short answer when he did.
Nico blames himself for the loss, and he shouldn’t because he played some incredible hockey tonight. It’s a shame they couldn’t pull out the win for him. It breaks her heart that he blames himself for that overtime goal. He got caught on a bad change. It’s not his fault.
She wants to text him to let him know that the outcome of the game isn’t his fault, but she lets him have his few moments alone to ponder and think about the game like he does whenever he plays. She knows she’ll get her time with him when he comes out of the Prudential Center.
An hour after the game ends, and a short ten minute nap for her, Nico leaves the building. He walks out with Jack and Timo. He says something to them before he gets in the passenger’s seat of her car.
A frown forms on her face when he doesn’t say anything to her when he gets in. He types something on his phone instead of saying something to her.
“Neeks?” she says to get his attention. He looks up at her when she calls his nickname. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
His voice is low and hoarse like he’s been crying. His usually bright eyes are dark and swollen. She wouldn’t put it past him to shed some tears in frustration that he’s probably feeling. It’s not the first time his team has left him out to dry after an incredible performance. He takes all the blame as their captain too despite none of it being his fault.
It truly does break her heart.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she questions. “Or do you just want to go home?”
“Go home,” Nico replies. “Please. I don’t feel like talking about the game right now.”
She nods silently and puts the car in reverse to pull out of the parking spot. Nico remains quiet as she begins to drive back to their shared apartment.
At one of the red lights she stops at, she glances over to see Nico scrolling on some social media app and frowns. He lets out a soft sigh before he turns off the phone and looks out the window.
This is not how Nico reacts after games. Either he’s very talkative about the game and how well the team did or he is venting to her about how bad they played that night if none of them played well. Quiet Nico after one of his best performances is slightly concerning. Even after the whole team lost.
The drive back to their apartment is fifteen minutes once she actually pulled out of the parking lot. Nico gets out as soon as it’s in park and begins the trek into the building. She follows close behind him so they can get on the elevator together to go up to their floor.
As soon as they’re behind the safety of a closed door, he pulls the beanie off his head and launches it across the living room until it hits the wall.
“Sometimes I wish they never gave me the stupid C,” he suddenly blurts out. “I let them put all the blame on me and I take all the blame. I do that so they can perform better on the ice instead of their mentality ruining their game on the ice and this is what they do? Fuck!”
She quickly walks up to her boyfriend and says, “You do that because you’re a good captain, Nico. You’d probably let them even if you didn’t wear the C on your chest. That is the kind of guy you are.”
He looks down at her and takes a step back. “You don’t understand,” he replies. “I already blame myself for that last goal they scored. I was on a change and the puck went into the net while I was trying to get off the ice to get some fresh skates on. That’s on me because if I had just stayed on the fucking ice, we would’ve won that game. I would’ve found a way to get a turnover and I would’ve put the puck into the net myself because I played really great tonight for them to barely show up.”
“You’re frustrated,” she tells him. “And that’s fine. You’re so valid in your frustration and feelings, but do not think for one second that the loss is on you. You said it. You played great tonight so this is not on you. It sucks that your team couldn’t back you up.”
Nico runs his fingers through his hair. “Every loss is on me,” he replies. “They can blame me all they want, but I need them to back me up. I can’t keep putting up these multi-point nights for them to fuck it up while I’m not on the ice. It fucks with my head sometimes and I’m over it. I’m so over this because it happened so many times.”
She wraps her arms around his torso and rubs his back. “You’re the best captain,” she reminds him. “This is who you would be no matter what is on your chest. One day, all this will pay off. It will end with you raising the Cup then passing it to Jack. They will get you the Cup before the end of your career. All this frustration you’re feeling has an end. One way or another.”
He buries his face into her hair and wraps his arms around her shoulders. “I just need them to back me up,” he mumbles. “I can only take their blame so they can play better for so long before it fucks with me.”
“I know, Neeks,” she replies. “But you’re doing a great job at helping them be their best selves and the best players they can be on the ice. You just have to remind yourself that this will all come to an end at some point.”
Nico nods against her hair. “That overtime goal is on me though,” he tells her.
“Nico Hischier, I’m going to kick your ass if you blame yourself for any part of that loss,” she sharply replies as she pulls away from the hug. “It is not on you. There was nothing you could have done to change that outcome. You put everything into that game and that’s that. You were the best player on the ice tonight in every single statistic. Got it?”
He nods again quietly. “Got it,” he sighs. “Sorry that I’m venting like this to you. I am a little frustrated. It’s supposed to be a new season and I’m seeing things from last season that I thought we already worked on.”
“That’s fine,” she tells him. “Just don’t take it out on yourself, okay? I don’t like this quiet, frustrated Nico. Talk to me, talk to your team, talk to your coaches. It helps.”
Nico gives her a small smile. “I know.”
“Good,” she says. “Now, go take a shower because you still stink. I’ll make us some snacks and we can watch a movie, okay?”
He nods again and walks down the hallway.
Yeah, he’s allowed to be frustrated. Blaming himself is not the best thing to be doing, especially with the way he has been playing to start the season.
There are still 70 something games left to play. He doesn’t need to blame himself on game 8 of the season.
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Coming skidding in just under the wire for @boombox-fuckboy’s Fiction Podcast Zine September!
This was an idea I had since the zine event was announced, but it felt very personal and I didn’t quite know how to go about making it. But I did want to reflect on what fiction podcasts have Meant To Me. And my delicate emotional state during 2020, lol.
Plain text transcription:
Cover: The Podcasts That Got Me Through COVID Lockdown.
Spread 1: In 2020, I was part of the lockdown contingent. [Drawing of a house] I chose a Masters Degree project I could do from my parents' basement, 2000 miles away from my university. I attended my MA graduation ceremony on Zoom in my dining room.
The loneliness and disconnection in ars PARADOXICA spoke to me. I recognized myself in Sally Grissom: asexual, of course; lonely; throwing myself into my research; clinging to friends far away. [A drawing of a brown-haired woman in a blue sweater, hunched over, writing.]
(I cried over Sally Grissom in the park.)
Spread 2: I lived - and locked down - in Metro Boston: not Boston proper, but close enough. I would go for a walk every morning, and the familiar Boston skyline greeted me. [Drawing of the Boston skyline including iconic buildings like the Prudential Center and the John Hancock Building.]
During this time, when my whole world shrank to a few blocks around my house and the park down the road, Greater Boston made me feel connected to the city, to the diversity of it, to the places so familiar to me, to my home.
(I cried over Michael's letters in the park.)
Spread 3: The comedy and tragedy, the surrealism and all-too-real groundedness of Arden [drawing of a blood splatter and a magnifying glass] took me on an emotional journey through just about every feeling there is, some of them really intense. [Drawing of a house on fire.]
But even the normal parts - going to work, parties, air travel - felt distant and surreal, and the ridiculous parody subscription service ads felt way too real. [Drawing of a box with a pair of green socks in it, a reference to a classic Arden ad.]
(When Brenda mentioned going out to a bar with coworkers for drinks after work, I cried. In the park.)
Back: Thank you to podcasts
for making me feel seen and understood,
making me feel connected and grounded,
and giving me an outlet for my feelings
during that insane and hectic and scary year.
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john marino fluff next 🥺
Just because | John Marino x reader
Summary: cute way to end the night with the man you’ve been with for four years.
Warnings: language I think? That’s it..
A:N- i think a Jack smut is next?
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John and I had just came back from sweep the deck in the prudential center. Many events had taken place at this fun night party.
“How’d you like it?” John asks me, he hooks his hand onto my waist as he walks me out of the crowded room where the ice would normally sit. I hold onto him as support, I recently just injured my knee, I was an elite track star- like literally I was an all star track athlete for Harvard. Obviously it’s been years since my college days, but being a 26 year old is tuff in my joints- especially working and over training my body for the last 23.
John and I have been together for years! It’s been a long lasting relationship and I’m proud to say that he might be the one to marry. “Oh, it was fun! I enjoyed it. I loved curling.” I reply, almost forgetting the question he asked me. I go back to day dreaming as I look up at him. How dreamy he looks. I can see his dimples- if he smiles hard enough.
I love the way he handled me, and he only wnats to love me, and that doesn’t mean having to fuck every night. We go down on eachother every other night, and yes, that means we fuck off and on all week. “It helps keep his stamina for hockey.” He says. It’s embarrassing to even admit- but I love the way he just carry’s himself. It’s like no one matters except me and you.
He knows what he wants, and he’ll beg.
John loves me like he’ll buy me Lego’s. Why? I don’t know, but I love building. I love going out. I love snuggles. I am in love with John Marino.
~flashback~
A couple years ago, I had told John I will never love anyone. I barely love myself, I told him that I’m incapable of being loved and loving. I’m cold hearted.
“You’re not cold hearted! And I love you. So you’re Not incapable of being loved. I will make you love me anyway.”
~
Has he been successful since then? Yes. I do love him.
We get in the car. I’m hoping that we don’t fuck tonight. I’m just really tired. I do hope we can sleep tonight.
If anything, I’d want to recieve a blowjob in the shower. I’d rather suck on John in the bed as well, and maybe do the business in the bathtub, or maybe the couch? I don’t know, but I pray I won’t have to have sex with John tonight. Maybe tomorrow just not tonight, I’m just so drained from the party.
We get home, John unlocks our house and he walks in, leaving me in the car. It’s pitch black out. I cannot see anything, and I’m too scared to walk in. “I’ll be back.” John said as he turns on our lights to our home.
He opens the door wide, and grabbed a blanket. He came running out of the house with a white fluffy blanket wrapped around his arm. He opens my car door and pulled me into his arms.
He holds me in a baby cradle and hides me away in the blanket. “John, I’m perfectly fine! I can walk!” I beg John to just put me down. “No.” He responded.
What a gentalmab. What did I say? This guy knows his priorities- and he will do whatever he wants.
We make it back to the door and I’m almost asleep, I gave up on begging to let me down. He sets me on our white couch. John turns the lock to ensure we’ll be safe tonight. He turns the light switch if and he takes my hand leading me to our room.
He undresses me, he tried looking for my pajamas- as a result of not finding them he takes his clothes off as well. He cuddles with me and or skin touches skin. His front on my back, John being big sooon, and I, being little spoon. The star lit the room.
The moon glares down at us and I fall asleep feeling loved and warm in his presence.
When I woke up, I saw flowers on my bedside table. John wasn’t next to me in bed.
Weird.
I slide my slippers on and walk out if the room. I head towards the kitchen, hearing sizzling on the stove from possibly John cooking.
I step down the stairs to see John in a tight apron watching the office. He is shirtless under the blue apron and has a hot ontop of his curls.
His feet are covered in his fluffy socks I gifted him on our 3rd year anniversary. John has green shorts over his lower half, he walks over to our countertop. There is a wood plater holding a glass plate full of eggs, hash brown and newly cooked bacon.
John slides in a cup of orange juice on the platter and sets a bowl of fruit that I cut up yesterday before sweep the deck. I walk down the stairs fully to see John smirk at me. He runs over to me to give me a big hug. “Nice boobs.” John mocks me, he takes his apron off and slides it over me.
“Get dressed, Curtis is bring his kids over. We’re watching them so he and reanne can have time alone.” John lets me know. “Thelyll be here in 30 minutes.” He informs me. I run up the stairs and to my suprise I see a note next to the flowers that John probably provided me.
I slide on my sweatpants and a hoodie over my bare chest. I read the note as I slicked my hair back into a messy bun.
~
Dear y/n,
I love you so much, hope you had a good night of rest. I woke up early for you so I could make breakfast and have time to run to the store to pick up your favorite flowers!
And yes, I thought you flowers just because.
Anyway, love Johnny.
xoxo- cuteness.
~
#jocelynscrazyideas#hockey#nhl#nhl players#nhl fic#hockey blurb#john marino x reader#johnny hockey#john marino#John Marino 6#new jersey devils#njd#nj devils#🍇🍇🍇
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A request of the reader riding Nico hischier after they win the series on Monday??
A/N: Oh sweet anon, your request is making lots of us happy tonight! Congrats Devils! And of course, extra love to our fav captain.
Word Count:1.1k
Warnings: 18+ CONTENT!!!
You couldn’t hold back when you saw him. You knew it was a bit extra- but you had to. So you sprinted down the tunnel at the Prudential Center, throwing yourself into Nico’s arms recklessly. He barely catches you, having to grip your thighs tight to keep your momentum from bringing you both to the ground.
“I knew you could do it, babe.” You murmur into his ear, squeezing yourself so tight to his upper body, not even a penny could fit through.
“My biggest fan.” He murmurs, grin disappearing into your hair. “You smell like beer.”
“Yeah I kinda threw mine in the air when Tatar scored.” You admit, cringing slightly. “Don’t drink and watch playoff hockey… would be my motto but I’m not mentally strong enough.” Nico’s laughter mixes with yours. He lowers you back to the ground.
“You ready to pay up?” He asks, stroking the leather opening of your WAG jacket.
“Don’t I always?”
“Usually.” He confirms, letting his finger trail down to one of your belt loops, tugging you closer. You can already feel him getting hard. The publicness of it, the desire for you he can’t hide, has your breasts getting heavy.
Nico makes the drive home as quick as he can. His fingers wander, teasing and dangerous, as you move through the congested streets. You bite your bottom lip when a relieved moan slides out as the garage door for your apartment building rides up. Finally home.
In the elevator, you’re bold enough to stroke his full, hard length. He gives you a look, glancing at the corner camera as you shrug.
“Let em watch.” You whisper, not caring who is or isn’t peeking behind that lens. “Let them know who you belong to.” You continue, stroking your fingers a bit faster, watching as his brown eyes disappear behind his lids.
“Fuck.” His head falls back, a heavy breath pushing his abdomen out. He reaches a hand around your back, pulling you tight to him again so he can use the friction of your bodies to build the tension. His other hand comes up to your face, bringing his lips down onto yours. The door to the elevator opens. Neither of you walk out. Instead, you assault each other with your tongues, wet and needy, celebrating the game 7 exhilaration with some of your own.
He pulls away from you, sliding his thumb into your mouth, moving it in and out slowly. He presses down on your tongue, drinking in the way your cheeks collapse deeper. You reach up to his wrist, pushing his appendage deeper into your mouth. Nico can’t contain the groan bubbling in his chest.
Everything is rapid after that.
Heavy footsteps run down the hall. Keys jingle. A jacket falls here, then another there. Every piece of clothing flies onto the hallway floor leading to your bedroom. Nico tosses you carelessly onto the bed, too hot to bother with manners. He spreads your legs, moving your panties aside and burying his face between your folds.
“Holy fuck.” You’re already whining, clenching around his thick fingers as he works you over.
“Exactly what I pictured.”
“What?” You moan as he works his tongue deeper.
“When the final horn sounded. This is what I saw. You spread open like this for me. Although you begged a little more.”
“Not my fault. You’re the desperate one tonight, cap.” You quip back to him, shoving his face deeper into you. He doesn’t like your sass, trying to shut you up with heavy strokes on your clit while his fingers curl up. Your eyes roll back, no sound coming out as you come so quickly against his face.
“Am I?” He asks, kissing his way up your stomach then over to your breast. You’re still quivering, unsure of how you’re going to recover from that. But then he sucks his cheeks in on your nipple and you know you need another… and another. You’ll never have Nico enough.
“You’ve worked hard enough tonight.” You say as you shove at his shoulders. He drops his back to the bed with a heavy thud, guiding your hips over as you straddle him. His naked cock seeps against your wet folds. You stroke him through, watching as the control changes to you when he softens into the sheets. His large hands palm your ass, finger prints digging in as you guide him into you. His abs tighten calling your fingers to their ridged lines. As you work yourself down then back up his dick, you rub at his skin. Goosebumps dash along his skin while he helps you adjusts to his size. Small little thrusts flex his hips up into you. Your fingers come to your breasts, holding them as he encouraged you to make yourself feel good.
“Just like that, pretty girl.” He groans as you glide your own fingers along the taut peaks.
He bounces your body almost completely up and off of him, just to bottom out again. It’s intense, exactly how you want him tonight after such a stressful game. Your hair falls down your back as you curve your chest, giving him the perfect view of your cleavage bouncing.
He loves it, telling you so as he makes eye contact with you.
“Kiss me.” He demands.
You lean over him, letting your chest squish together. His hands move to the back of your thighs to help lift you with each pump. It feels so fucking good. Deep and inviting, dropping your lips open to let out heavy moans. Nico catches them in his mouth with rough, wet kisses.
Both your hips snap together greedily. He guides yours with his hands, squeezing as he gets closer and closer to coming. His head knocks back, separating from your mouth. You feel his breathing sputter, becoming long and then short. He begins to speak but can’t, licking his lips as you feel your orgasm pulse inside. The intensity knocks you into his chest. He finishes himself off, rapidly pumping into you as you ride wave after intoxicating wave of his thrusts. One hand pulls off your hips to grip your hair, fisting it as he shouts your name.
Your little flutters work more from his tip as your sweaty skins ticks together. Your lips press against his collar bone. His hand ghosts over your ass cheek, giving it an appreciative love tap. His face turns into your hair, working his lips through so he can kiss your cheek.
“Playoff worthy performance.” He chuckles, making your shoulders shake with a chuckle too.
“Damn right.” You turn your face to meet his lips with little nibbles and smooches.
“What are you going to do to me if we get passed round 2?” He asks, smoothing your hair back from your face.
“Guess you’ll just have to make it to find out.”
#nico hischier#Nico hischer X reader#nico hischier smut#nico hischier blurb#NHL fan fiction#hockey writing#my writing#writing request#New Jersey devils
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Prudential Building/Waterhouse Square, Holborn. Victorian Gothic 1906, Grade II listed.
#london#original photographers#photographers on tumblr#lensblr#imiging#england#uk#united kingdom#great britain#gb#architecture#iphoneography#iphone14pro
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Warsaw Uprising, 28 August 1944. The Prudential building is hit by a 2-ton mortar shell from Karl-Gerät 040 60cm Mörser Nr. VI "Ziu" of Heeres-Artillierie-Batterie 638.
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Heading towards sunset. 🌅🌆🌞🌛🌇 🌉
#sunset photoshoot#sunset photoset#sunset photography#Boston#boston strong#boston artist#boston photographer#city sounds#cityscape#building lighting#city lights#copley square#prudential center#prudential#Newbury street#back bay#mbta#boston public library#boston garden#boston celtics#boston university#architecture photography#architecture lovers#architecture student#city life#city landscape#night photo walk#night photography#night photoshoot#downtown
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boston, massachusetts 1971
construction of the christian science administration building
photograph by nick dewolf https://www.flickr.com/photos/dboo/434034326
#photography#film#color#35mm#boston#massachusetts#streetphotography#building#buildings#skyscraper#tower#construction#cranes#thepru#prudential#christianscience#administrationbuilding#1970s
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Taken from high atop the Prudential building……amazing view of Back Bay - Boston, an amazing city.
- Posted to FB group Boston Explore
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How close to the clouds will the new cities reach?
Man has always wanted to soar high into the clouds. The dream of building a building that would reach the sky seemed more realistic than flying, and the prospect of living as high as possible has fueled the architecture of the most important buildings in cities for many centuries. For centuries, the tallest buildings were the towers of Gothic churches and the minarets of mosques. The tallest towers of European medieval colossi were over 100m. The record height was achieved by the cathedral in Ulm (Germany), and the most monumental temple in terms of area was, among others, the Gothic temple in Gdańsk (Poland) or the famous Notre Dame in Paris. In the following centuries, nothing matched the craftsmanship and scale of these buildings.
The turn of the 19th and 20th centuries (the so-called "belle Époque") brought many inventions and new building materials. After many centuries, monumental Gothic cathedrals slowly began to surpass the first skyscrapers. The oldest skyscrapers (the term itself is relative) were built in US cities at the end of the 19th century. In Europe, in the interwar period, the tallest buildings were in cities such as Warsaw (Prudential hotel), Torengebouw in Antwerp or Torre Piacentini in Genoa.Today we are crossing the next boundaries of what seemed impossible; in Dubai, after the construction of the famous Burj Khalifa, which reached a gigantic height of 828 meters, the next record is to be the Dubai Creek tower, most likely exceeding 1000 meters in height.Dubai already looks like a city of the future, and large-scale projects of new, increasingly futuristic cities are also being created in other countries, on a larger scale also in China.This raises the question of what the future will bring, how high will we reach the sky through the architecture of cities in the near and distant future?
#ai art#ai generated#bandcamp#architecture#artificial intelligence#ai artwork#ai#ambient#ai gallery#city#buildings#urban#scifi#scifiart#sci fi and fantasy#tower#towers#dubai#china#babel#future#clouds#sky#new music#music#world#worldmusic#vision#ai art gallery#ai image
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Open House Chicago
Views from the 11th floor of the Prudential Building
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