#prudential building

[timmurleyart]

Warm September night. 🌃🌕

[emaadsidiki]

Chicago 🏙️

[nickdewolfarchive]

boston, massachusetts 1971

view from boston common

photograph by nick dewolf https://www.flickr.com/photos/dboo/26476326474/

[qrrieterisunnq]

Am I Really Enough? - Luke Hughes

masterlist | wip's

— WARNINGS: Hateful comments, grammar errors — SUMMARY: Luke wants you to know how much he adores you and that he doesn’t care what others say about you on social media. — WORD COUNT: 1,5K

It had been going on for a few months. Firstly, you didn’t really pay attention to it, but lately, the comments get worse and worse and the TikTok’s got even more nastier that you somehow let them in your mind.

You tried to act like nothing was happening in front of everyone, but keeping put together was getting harder and harder.

It wasn’t until a few days back that Luke started to notice the changes in your behavior. It wasn’t anything big, but he could sense the distance you slowly put between each other.

It was the way you would check yourself in the mirror with a slight disgust on your face but would quickly mask it as soon as you saw him.

The way you would hide your body whenever you were with the other Devils’ or when you saw someone taking a photo of you.

Or the way he would notice dry tears on your cheeks after he got out of his shower after a late game.

He doesn’t know what is happening but needs to find out.

Today, he had an early morning practice, so he had to be really quiet because you were still sleeping. Normally, you’d be awake by the time preparing him a quick breakfast and snack, but your head was hurting yesterday, so that is why you were sleeping.

Right before he left, he looked at you to ensure you were still sleeping. He sat down beside you, slightly caressing your hair away from your face. With a soft smile, he kissed your forehead and with quiet ‘love you’ he left.

Jack was already waiting for him in front of your apartment building, so he threw his bag on the backseat and slid next to Jack.

“Morning,” Jack yawns from behind the steering wheel, forcing Luke to look at him.

“Morning. Tired?” Luke’s eyes wander around Jack’s face, noticing the dark bags under his eyes.

“Yeah, Florence didn’t sleep too much during the night. it’s the time her teeth start to grow.” he sighed running his hand down his face as he groaned.

“We can always look after her on the weekend so you two get some sleep,” Luke offered with a small smile gazing at his lips. Maybe it would brighten your mood.

“Yeah, but you know, Sunny, she wants to spend as much time with her as possible.” He sighed and pulled out from the parking lot toward the Prudential.

“I know, just saying. You two could use some time alone.”

“Yeah. Tell me about it,” Jack sent him a smile and stopped at red. “Anyway, how is Y/n?” 

“Ugh, I am not sure. She’s been acting weird lately,” Luke sighed this time it’s him who runs his hands down his face. “She’s been distant and just not herself.”

“Hey there lover boys!” Jesper shouted as soon as he caught a glimpse of Luke and Jack.

“Hello, Swedish man!” Jack grinned at him and fist-bumped him on the way inside the locker room.

“Hi, Bratter,” Luke smirked ruffling the shorter guy’s hair.

Jesper swatted the hand away with an annoyed huff and kicked Luke in the shin.

“You look tired man. Flo giving you a hard time?” Nico chuckled when he noticed the black bags under Jack’s eyes.

“Yeah, her teeth are growing,” He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face yet again. “She lets up sleep only three hours a day, so it’s tiring.”

“I got it. If you want to, you can't take a few days off or always bring her to me I’ll gladly look after her.” Nico offered, and Jack had to smile. He is so grateful for you all. “Hey there Lukey!” Nico waved at the younger Hughes as soon as he saw him.

“Hello, Captain,” Luke grinned at him. “Ready for practice?”

“The hell I am." he grinned but remembered he needed to talk to him. "Anyway, I need to talk to you after, do you have time?” Nico says more seriously, causing Luke to swallow hard and nod his head.

“Uhm. Yeah sure.” He swallowed again, and the smile on his face vanished away.

“Move your asses guys!” Coach Sheldon yells inside the locker room, startling most of the guys.

“You wanted to talk to me?” Luke sat down next to Nico after he got out of the shower, the towel wrapped tightly around his waist.

Nico nodded and handed him his phone, which was playing some TikTok with you and Luke. Luke watched it with furrowed eyes because he didn’t know what he was supposed to looking for.

“Look at the comments.”

Luke opened the comments, and his jaw dropped. He knew people were cruel on social media, but he had no idea they were this cruel.

“And that is not the only one. Do you remember when Y/n posted the photo of you and her on New Year's,” Nico asked and took his phone back.

“Yeah, what with that? I didn’t see any ugly comments.” Luke looked at Nico with raised eyebrows, not catching up.

“That’s because y/n deleted them.” Nico sighed and for the second time handed Luke his phone with screenshots of the comments.

I don’t know what he sees in her, but he could do better.

You should put down some weight

Don’t you feel a bit out of place when you’re with his friends?

Do you ever feel embarrassed standing next to him? I mean, people must wonder why he settled.

Luke swiped through the screenshots, tears forming in his eyes as he read through them.

“Oh, my fucking shit.” Luke breathed out as he finally realized, why were you acting so off for the past few weeks.

“Yeah, I noticed that y/n was acting off, so I just wanted to show you.”

“Thanks, man,” Luke nodded, appreciation clear in his voice even though Nico could hear the tears. “I um, I need to go.”

Luke quickly changed into his clothes and rushed out of the arena. He probably broke most of the road rules, but he didn’t care, he just needed to talk to you, to make sure you know how beautiful you are no matter what.

Luke barges into your apartment like there is some murderer inside the building startling the shit out of you.

“Jesus Christe Luke! What the fuck?” you yelped out, your hand hovering over your heart.

“Is it true?” he panted out, dropping the bag from his shoulder on the floor, his voice full of hurt.

You straightened your spine, not knowing what he was talking about. Or more like being afraid of what he’s talking about.

“What are you talking about?” your voice is a little bit shaky from the fear that he knows. He knows all about what is going on in her head.

“You know what I am talking about,” He breathed out, slowly approaching her. His heart was beating fast from the number of steps he ran up, just because he didn’t want to wait for the elevator. “The comments, the videos,” he dropped down on his knees before you, his hands flying to your knees. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” You shook your head in denial.

“Y/n, I love you the way you are. And it pains me to see that I’m not showing you enough how much I love you,” Luke sighed and took your hands in his in a reassuring move. “And I promise you that I will try harder from now.”

“No, no, Luke, it’s not your fault!” you rushed out, shaking your head hurriedly. “You make me loved so much, but it’s me. The comments and videos make me feel like I should do something with myself.”

“Hey baby, look at me,” he shook your hands to get your attention back on him when he noticed you drifting away. “You have nothing to change, just because someone said in comments. You are gorgeous the way you are. But if you really want to, then I will support you, you know that.”

“So you think I am fat. I knew it.” You sniffed, the tears you’ve held back now falling over the edges.

“Hey, hey. I didn’t say anything like that, y/n, and you know that!” Luke sighed and stood up, only to sit down next to you and pull you in a tight hug.  

“You know I love you the way you are, and I would never change anything about you,” Luke whispered, his lips pressed against your temple, rocking you side to side. “I love you so fucking much, baby. But if you don’t feel comfortable in your body, I will support you if you want to start going to the gym.”

“I am sorry.” You sobbed out, clutching Luke's biceps tightly. “I ju-just don’t want you to re-realize that maybe one day you’ll need s-someone more o-on your le-level.”

“Hey! You are way on a higher level than me, baby, and you know that.” He grasps your face in his palms, forcing you to look at him. “I don’t fucking care what the people say about you in comments, and you too shouldn’t, because they are just pathetic excuses of people, okay.” He didn’t let go until you understood that you were gorgeous. That day, you spent cuddling on the couch, watching Supernatural��s and him whispering in your ear how beautiful you are and how fucking lucky he was to get you as a girlfriend.

[hocktuah]

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.”

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ 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

༺──────────────༻

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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[specialagentartemis]

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.

[jocelynscrazyideas]

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?

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

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.

~

[ladylooch]

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.”

[chriskenchphotography]

Prudential Building/Waterhouse Square, Holborn. Victorian Gothic 1906, Grade II listed.

[timmurleyart]

Heading towards sunset. 🌅🌆🌞🌛🌇 🌉

[emaadsidiki]

Chicago 🏙️

[nickdewolfarchive]

boston, massachusetts 1971

construction of the christian science administration building

photograph by nick dewolf https://www.flickr.com/photos/dboo/434034326

[dinkydiamond]

What follows is a detailed, song by song account of my 1st Sparks gig, 30 Oct. 2013 ✨✨

(This is long)

31 October 2013

I SAW SPARKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It was amazing, just so amazing. I’d go again in a heartbeat, if only I could. I’m still just so amazed from the show last night. I wish I’d taken photos, although they asked for no photos (or charcoal drawings — hah!). I just feel so lucky and so blessed about what I got to see last night. I do regret it was not recorded for posterity. Let me start at the very beginning (a very good place to start).

*PROLOGUE*

On the day before the show, the radiator of my car broke and all the radiator fluid leaked out. How was I going to get to Boston now? Urgently, I went on the computer to find alternative means of travelling to Boston. I considered my options, which, coming from rural NH, were slim. I’ve never driven to Boston before, and who knows what could have happened. I looked at buses; I could have taken the Greyhound out of [nearby small city], but that would cost $75 and it would take forever, because the bus would go all over the place. So no.

Then, oh miraculous, Dad offered to drive me down. He’d hang out somewhere, then drive me back! No worries! Oh yes! So that is what happened. The next day I went home, then dad and I left to pick up mom. Apparently she was coming as well. Mom was kind of disappointed that she wasn’t dressed to go out, being still in her work clothes. Mom and dad called [my uncle] and they ended up spending the evening at [my uncle]’s house [just outside Boston] to watch the game (I forgot to mention - it was the same night as the World Series game at Fenway). We listened to some Velvet Underground (White Light/White Heat), then I played mom and dad some Sparks, but they didn’t like it. So I put on New York by Lou Reed, which they did like. When we arrived in Boston we could see the glow of the floodlights at Fenway, and the Prudential Center building had lights that spelled out “Go Sox.”

*FINALLY THE INTERESTING PART*

We got to Brighton Street in Allston, where the Brighton Music Hall is, where Sparks were, at around 7:30 pm, half an hour before the doors open. We parked at a CVS across the street, and walked over. As we walked up to the venue we could hear Sparks practicing!!! They were going through the song B.C. That was wicked exciting. To pass the time we went to a middle eastern restaurant next door. Dad got an iced tea and a lamb dish with rice. We all had a bit of it, it was really good. Mom got a lemonade. At around 8, a line formed outside the window of the restaurant, so I went out.

“Is this the line for Sparks?” I asked.

“Yeah” replied some of the people right outside the door I’d just come out of.

“Wow” I replied, and got into line. I stood in line and listened to a girlfriend and boyfriend ahead of me talk excitedly about Sparks, and two women ahead of them fangirl over Ron and Russell Mael. A guy came by and checked our IDs and gave us all pink wristbands to wear so we could go out and come back if we needed to. Then around 8:09 I said “When is the line gonna move?” The young couple in front of me said “hmm yeah I don’t know.” We chatted briefly about Sparks, how awesome they are. I told them about how I heard them warm up earlier. They thought that was cool. Then we entered the hall.

On the outside of the hall were signs posted that said “Sparks kindly request that no audio, film, photography, or charcoal drawings be made of the show.” Even though I had a camera, and even though other people were taking pictures, I respected their wishes, and did not. When I first got in the hall I went to the bathroom, then I put my coat in the coat check. I went to stand over by the stage, where about fifteen people had already started to congregate. I wanted to be as close to the stage as I could. I stood there for a while, and then the woman standing next to me started talking to me. She asked me about how I got into the band, whether I’d seen them before or not. She told me she’d been to a lot of shows before, having been a fan since the 70’s. She saw all 21 shows of the 21x21 Spectacular back in 2008. I can’t imagine how awesome that must’ve been. I wish I’d seen it. She was with a group of friends. There was a tall Swede called Erik. He told me he was going to see all their shows of this tour, and follow them all the way back to Sweden, where the tour will end. There was also another woman named Virginia, she runs the Tumblr blog Voted Most Likely to Fail. We talked about Sparks for the hour(ish) before they came on.

I was standing directly behind Erik, and knew if I stayed there I wouldn’t be able to see a thing, so I kindly asked him if he could squeeze over a bit so I could stand next to him. He did, although right in front of me was one of the speakers. But I didn’t care, I wanted to see Sparks!

They had Ron’s keyboard set up, with his name on it, and on the other side of the stage was a midi console or something, I don’t actually know. The stage itself was pretty small, only maybe 10’ or 12’ across. I was sandwiched between Erik the Swede and a balding man who was very nice and a big Sparks fan. We noticed another guy, standing pressed to the stage adjacent to us with a blue shirt on with big white letters that said “Practice, man, practice.”

Where I was standing relative to the stage was a little left of center, facing the stage. Ron’s keyboard was right in front of me. The stage would have come up to my waist, but the speaker right in front of me came up to my armpits. I was slightly annoyed about that, but I was grateful that I got to be in the front at all.

Then the lights went dark and everybody cheered. I made sure to cheer loudly throughout. I did not want them to feel unwelcome; I wanted this show to stand out for them. I sort of felt bad that they weren’t playing in a grander venue, but I was also glad that it was a venue that allowed me to get so close.

Russell came out first. He was dressed in a black button down shirt, a black skinny tie (the type that is square at the bottom rather than pointy), what appeared to be black board shorts (but tailored) over black leggings. For shoes he wore black and white faux (I assume) snakeskin shoes with black no-show socks which left the ankle bare. He was dressed in all black, except for his shoes, which were two toned black and white. I thought that was cool, since I too was dressed all in black except for my black and white shoes.

He went over to the console stand, picked up the microphone that was there, and went “dooh dooh dooh dooh dooh dooh dooh dooh” into it. Then he pressed a button or something on the console, and for several seconds nothing happened. He looked into the audience with a slightly amused expression, as if to say “typical.” But then the machine kicked in and his “dooh dooh’s” emanated from the console. This became “Your Call is Very Important to Us - Please Hold.” During the “green light” parts he made a beckoning gesture, and for the “red light” part he put up his hand in a stop gesture.

Halfway through the song Ron appeared through the door at the back of the stage to rapturous applause and made his way to his spot behind his keyboard. He was wearing a classic white button down shirt, red striped tie tucked into too-big trousers secured tightly up around his middle by a belt.

After the first song, they pause in their set to thank us for coming. “No, thank you!” I replied. “We know you had a difficult choice to make,” he continued. He was of course talking about the World Series game happening nearby as he spoke. “We’ll let you know the score later on,” he told us. Everyone cheered again.

The next song was “How Do I Get To Carnegie Hall?” Me and the balding guy next to me pointed over towards the Practice Man Practice guy, who looked pleased with his choice of dress. Because I was right in front of the speaker, the bass was very palpable. Ron looked especially menacing during this number, or maybe it was just my imagination. He was right above me, looking directly over my head.

It was difficult to dance, as I was squished up against the stage, and squished by the two people on either side of me. I experimented with different reactions, as I knew just standing there was definitely not going to happen. At first I briefly considered reacting like Ron, and stare them down the whole time, but gave that up pretty quickly (as soon as they entered the stage). There was no way I wasn’t going to allow myself to enjoy this. I tried dancing in the only direction I had available, which was above me and in front of me, except not really because of the speaker. So I did a lot of pogoing, but not very high, it was more like exaggerated bobbing, because I didn’t want to obscure the view for anyone behind me, nor irritate the people pressed up against me on either side. I also tried dancing with my arms, but anything I did was awkward so I sort of just reached out from time to time and drummed my hands on the speaker, though I couldn’t hear myself over the music.

After “Carnegie Hall” was “BC,” the song I’d heard them practicing earlier. In a way, I felt like I got to hear this one twice, which was special. I know this song very well, since it’s on Propaganda, the album I’ve been borrowing from [my cousin] for probably a year now. I gave him The Man Who Sold The World by David Bowie in exchange for Propaganda. Then we returned albums to do a re-trade, and I gave him Combat Rock by the Clash to keep Propaganda. I’m secretly hoping that if I keep it long enough he’ll forget about it or just let me have it [2025 update: I still have it].

Russell paused in between the verses, as is BC tradition. We cheered during any moment of dead air, even though we know it's not the end of the song. It reminds me of this video I found on Youtube of them performing this song live around when it came out. Russell introduces the song saying, “This song’s called BC. You don’t know it, so what are you clapping for '' And you can tell, because the crowd cheered after the first verse, thinking it was over. “That’s the second one,” he said, after the second verse, “There’s one more, ‘cause all songs, all good songs are composed of three verses, and the middle part that’s not as good as the other parts of the song. Here’s the third verse.” In the back of my mind I sort of wished Russell made a similar comment at this show, but he did not. No problem though.

During the beats in between the lyrics he did these punches in the air with his microphone. It was really exciting. I tried dancing along, but was too squished so I did weird hand gestures and tapped along. And of course sang along. I couldn’t hear myself anyway. I briefly considered moving back so I could dance, but I knew that if I did that not only would I not be able to see anything, but I wouldn’t get my spot back either. So I stayed put.

The next song was “Here in Heaven.” This was so exciting, since I was just singing this song to myself the other day! So I felt prepared to sing along to this one, which I did. For this one, I tried some acting. I sang along with my hands in a prayer position, imagining myself a member of an angelic choir or something. I think Russell looked at me at one point during this song. I gave Ron a smile, but he never moved his gaze from straight over my head.

The next song was “Academy Award Performance,” and I gave up the shtick or whatever I was doing and just acted like the excited Sparks fan I was coming to terms with that I am (sorry for the jumbled sentence structure). It was really exciting to hear this song, it being one of their I suppose lesser knowns, it not being a single. I thought it was appropriate, because of their upcoming plan to turn their radio play “The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman” into a movie. Wouldn’t it be awesome if it won an academy award?! The performance was great, Russell was animated as ever.

The next song was “Those Mysteries.” It is a really beautiful song. I didn’t remember this song, but it was on the album “Introducing Sparks” which I did listen to once so I know I’ve heard it, but hearing it live really brought out its beauty. I have since gotten more into that album, it’s really excellent. The song is really nice and touching, and not trite or overbearing. It is honest. This was a lovely part of the concert.

And then things got lively again with “Good Morning!” Everyone was clapping along, myself obviously included. It is from “Exotic Creatures from the Deep,” and this song is the reason I got that album. Russell did a lot of skipping around on this one, skipping circles around Ron, which was entertaining. There was a microphone sort of in his way on the far side of Ron (like I said, the stage was small), and every time he passed it he had to put his hand up and duck around it so he wouldn’t bump into it. It was charming to see. So agile, he did not bump it once. I sort of felt bad they came here to such a small stage and venue, but also this made me tenfold grateful that they came at all, so it was a wonderful time. I tried to dance along, did more hand dancing and bounced.

The next song was “Falling in Love with Myself Again” which was also exciting. When Russell sang the chorus, “Yes I think I’m falling in love with myself again,” I punched the air and shouted “yes!” I sang along to the whole song and fell in love with Sparks (platonically) again.

The next song was “Big Boy.” It was surprising to hear this one, from Big Beat. I’d listened to that album only a few times, but this song had been a highlight on that album for me. Hearing it live made me appreciate it more. I really like it; it's silly, but wants to be taken seriously. Like a little boy wanting to be big. When he sang the chorus “big boy, big boy” Russell pounded the air with his fist. He really got into that one.

The next song, “What Would Katherine Hepburn Say,” I hadn’t heard before. I found out later this was because it’s not on any of their albums: they wrote it for their friend (and former drummer) Christi Haydon to record, which she did. It fits in with their cinematic theme, with the Ingmar Bergman project happening, as well as the title of the tour, using the old “revenge” movie sequel trope. I really liked this song, it was really touching. I like Katherine Hepburn.

Then they took a quick break while Russell told us about Sparks’ newest project, “The Seduction of Ingmar Bergman, and how they are going to make it into a movie with help from Canadian film director Guy Madden. There was a bit of cheering for this. I am excited about this; I’ve heard of his films and his style seems perfect for this. Also, apparently he is a big Sparks fan, which is cool.

So then Ron donned a beret and they played some songs and a monologue from the album which was also originally a Swedish radio drama they made for Swedish radio. It was very exciting to hear this new material. (well, not actually new, the radio show was broadcast in 2009 and the album was released not long afterwards, but new to me as I hadn’t listened to it yet), and also cool because Ron got a chance at the microphone! He didn’t sing (although he does on the album), but he did have a lengthy speaking part! This was a nice diversion from the rest of the set actually, because it gave me a chance to watch Ron without worrying I’d miss something from Russell in the meanwhile.

In the end I guess I watched Russell more. I frequently felt like I didn’t know where to look. I knew Russell would be exceedingly entertaining to watch, as always, but I also knew Ron would be sure to add in his own little subtle theatrics in the form of eye rolls, eyebrow waggles, and faint mouthing along to the words.

The four songs they did were “I am Ingmar Bergman,” — the one Ron spoke for — “The Studio Commissary,” “Limo Driver (Welcome to Hollywood),” and lastly, “Oh My God.” The Studio Commisary amazing, it was almost an out of body experience to see Russell laugh-sing like that a yard from my face. The last one, “Oh My God” was really beautiful. It was the first time I’d heard this song, having not listened to the Seduction of Ingmar Bergman yet, but I feel so fortunate to have the memory of this performance now every time I listen to it since. The “real” version is sung by the Bergman character, so it was really special to hear it being sung by Russell. This song seemed to really sum up Bergman, from what little I have seen of his films, which always seem to have some sort of existentialist view. In the storyline, this inner crisis is brought into Bergman’s life. The repeated refrain, “Oh my God, do you exist” was really haunting. I was really moved. I am really looking forward to this new movie project, and see more Bergman films.

Then they returned to the straight concert mode and did “Nicotina.” Yeah, an Angst in my Pants song! I really like that album. During the intro Russell was drinking some much needed water and wiping his brow, and only just made his cue. Good showmanship. This was a good foot-stomper. It is interesting they have a song about a feminised cigarette when it is well known that neither of them smoke or even drink. I like this about them. Not only does it mean they won't die from their life choices, but also it is nice to have cool people as role models for that type of lifestyle, since I also don’t smoke nor do I like to drink. This seems rare for rock stars who were big in the ‘70s. It’s cool.

The next song was “Popularity,” from In Outer Space. I really like this song. As soon as I recognised it I broke out into a wide grin, which I think Russell noticed. It is an innocent song about carefree days. It is really lovely.

The next song was “This Town Ain’t Big Enough For the Both of Us.” Of course, they played this song, their biggest hit! As soon as Ron began that unmistakable opening piano riff, the crowd went wild. I wholeheartedly joined the fray. The crowd was louder than ever for this one, and everyone clapped, filling in the spaces where the guitars and gun shots would be. I made especially weird faces for this one, mostly out of sheer exhilaration than anything else. I really bounced to this one. Russell looked at me for another second, during one of my weirder faces, but I didn’t care, because he was dancing strangely, sort of shaking his whole body, as if there was too much energy in him and he was going to explode or something. He bounced and skipped around a lot. It was really fun to witness and experience.

Next was (When I Kiss You) I Hear Charlie Parker Playing. I really like this one. Russell sort of does his version of rapping during the verses and sings the chorus in his angelic voice. It's a great song to jump up and down to, with great lyrics.

Next was “Suburban Homeboy.” They played this song during their last tour, the one I saw streamed live on Youtube. I’m so glad I got to hear it in person on this tour. It is such an interesting song. It's about people who are middle class and act like they’re gangster or inner city or whatever. But they’re fake. This performativity is furthered by the show tune style of the music. It's pretty great. Russell got everyone to clap on this one, everyone got really into it. Everyone in the front row was waving their hands out. Russell made like he was going to do one of those wave high fives, but didn’t.

Then they did “When Do I Get To Sing My Way?” I was so glad they did this one! I sang along all the way. When DO I get to sing my way? And then the main part of the show came to an end. I was sad to see them go. So soon! Too soon! Everyone kept cheering after they had said their thank yous and exited through the door at the back of the stage. I was shouting more, more, and “come back”, but I didn’t get any chant going, which was slightly disappointing.

After a few minutes though, they came back, to my (at least) relief. And Russell was wearing a Red Sox shirt! Such a crowd pleaser. Everyone cheered even louder as he showed it off. Then, as he said he would, he gave us the score, as it was then: “It’s the sixth inning and the score,” he said, pausing for suspense, we all waited silently with bated breath, “is Red Sox 6, St. Louis zerooo!” and held up his hand in an o shape. Everyone cheered, but only quickly because we’re here for Sparks, not baseball.

And with that they launched into the first song of their encore, Tryouts for the Human Race. Boy was I happy to hear this, another song from No. 1 in Heaven! I really like the music video for this song, where they turn into werewolves. It's so great to see Russell bouncing around in that Red Sox shirt! At this point of the show I was getting a little cramped, so I bounced along with Russell and took inspiration from Ron, and I got used to it.

Next was the No. 1 Song in Heaven, well, just the fast part. The No. 1 Song in Heaven really is the number one song in heaven. At one point during this song Russell walked over to Ron at the keyboard and placed his hand on the keyboard, looking at Ron impishly. He then pushed Ron away and took over his position at the keyboard. Ron stood there for a second staring at Russell and sulking like a little kid who had his ice cream cone stolen. Then he went out to the center of the stage, Russell’s domain. Revenge. Everyone knows what he’s about to do, so we all cheered with anticipation. He stood there alone in the center of the stage for a few seconds before breaking into a maniacal grin as he danced his trademark sort of speed skater style shuffle. The crowd went wild! Then he went back to his original post, his keyboard, miming disgust at Russell’s having taken it over momentarily. Russell mimes not caring in the first place whether he gives the keyboard back or not, and goes back to the center of the stage for the end of the song. It was glorious.

The last song of the night is a special one made exclusively for this tour, titled “The Revenge of Two Hands One Mouth.” It is beautiful.

And then, the show was over. Ron and Russell thanked us for the show. There was one guy who had his fist raised during almost the whole show. He clearly was looking for either a high five or a fist bump. Russell finally gave it to him. Ron smiled and tried to stop (he tried to pull it down with his hands). Someone gave him an orange tie that he had thrown off into the audience during his I Predict striptease act back in 1983, the last time they were in Boston, which he put on, so momentarily he was wearing two ties. Then he gave it back to the guy.

I really hope they come back to Boston soon, because I missed them the moment they stopped playing. We all cheered and cheered and cheered. And then they slipped behind the door at the back of the stage and they were gone. Everyone kept cheering. I stared longingly at the door. The house lights came up . I stayed there, wishing they’d come back. Everyone else began milling about.

*EPILOGUE*

Suddenly someone came up to me. It was a guy, about a head taller than me with glasses, and carrying a big white cardboard tube. “How old are you?” He said.

“21”

”Oh good,” he replied, “I was afraid I was the youngest one here.”

“Okay” I said.

“I’m 23” he continued.

I nodded.

“I was watching you during the show, you seemed to know all the words, “ he told me.

I shrugged.

“How many Sparks albums do you have? I have Angst in My Pants, Sparks in Outer Space and Music That You Can Dance To.”

“Umm,” I say, a bunch…”

“Which ones? “

“Propaganda, No. 1 in Heaven, Angst in my Pants…” I say.

“Oh cool! I love the cover of Angst in My Pants”

“Yeah,” I say, “with the marriage photo.”

“Yeah” he says, “I got a poster made of the back cover of the album, that’s what’s inside this,” he gestured to the cardboard tube, “Do you know it?”

“Yeah,” I say, with all the band members heads on Russell’s body”

“Yeah!” he says, sounding excited that I know this. He opened the tube and showed me the poster. “I want to get it signed” he tells me, “but I don’t think they’ll be coming out.”

“Yeah I guess not,” I add, looking around the hall which now had significantly fewer people.

“There isn’t even a merch table,'' he laments.

“I know.” I say sadly, I had hoped there would be one as well, I’d brought cash with me specifically for that.

“I’m Joey by the way” and Joey shakes my hand. I introduce myself to him. We discussed how we got into Sparks. His first and favourite album is In Outer Space.

We ask a roadie if Sparks will come out to sign stuff or not. He (kiddingly) scoffs at being called a roadie, then tells us maybe. Well, they didn’t. We retrieve our jackets from the coat check which was closing, and chatted some more.

He asked me what other bands I was into. I didn’t want to think of any other bands. He kept asking me, so I told him Lou Reed, since we’d listened to him on the way down and since he’d died that week. He told me he didn’t know much of his stuff except Metal Machine Music (weird place to start), so he asked me for some recommendations. I told him I didn’t want to think about anything but Sparks, so he told me to friend him on Facebook and then tell him. I did later find him, but I still haven’t recommended any Lou Reed albums to him.

Then mom texted me to say they’d be there soon, so I said I had to go and walked over to the CVS parking lot. One of the guys standing in the bus shelter in front of the parking lot I recognised from the concert. He looked a bit like Steven Tyler but with thinner lips. He told me he’d been a fan of Sparks since 1976. He showed me some footage he filmed of the show on his camcorder in 3D. I told him he should put it on Youtube. He told me his Youtube channel is called Cathode Roy. His name is Roy. I subscribed to his channel, but he still hasn’t posted the footage. I really hope he does, it was really good quality. I sent him a message over Youtube, but no response.

Anyway, then mom and dad arrived and I said goodbye to Cathode Roy. I got in the car, where mom and dad were listening to the tail end of the world series game. The Red Sox won it as we drove out of Boston. I told them how amazing the show was, then snoozed the rest of the ride home. It was fantastic.

[captain-price-unofficially]

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.

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ game day ] n. hischier

day seven of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) flies into the states early to surprise and watch her boyfriend play a game before he goes on the short Christmas break

warning(s) : none

author’s note : sorry that this is on the shorter side but i am tryinggg to catch up on fics for the marathon (i timed this out really poorly bc i didn’t realize how exhausted i would be from work everyday)

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The plane lands 20 minutes before game time so she has to rush to get to the Prudential Center from Newark airport. It should only be a 10 minute drive but it’s a few days before Christmas so everyone is flying in to spend the holidays with their families.

Including (Y/N).

She's lucky that her Uber is waiting for her right outside the airport after she grabs her suitcase from baggage claim. There is already a ton of traffic leaving the airport and she groans as she checks the time. She's going to miss warmups but maybe she can get there in time for puck drop.

There's a text from Nico that comes through as she finally leaves the airport.

neeks ❦ - 6:59 pm can't wait to see you after the game. gonna score a goal or two for you tonight. text me when you land. i love you, mien liebling ♡

(Y/N) realizes that he's back in the locker room between warmups and puck drop. Traffic finally begins to clear up so the Uber speeds up going into Newark. Her knee bounces in the backseat as she keeps an eye on the time.

"Anxious for the Devils game tonight?" The Uber asks with a thick New York accent. "I see you're headed to the Rock."

"Just anxious I won't get there in time for puck drop," she replies. "My boyfriend is playing in the game and I wanted to surprise him before the puck dropped but I didn't realize how much traffic there would be two days before Christmas."

The Uber looks very surprised when she says that her boyfriend is playing. "Devils player, I hope?" he curiously asks as he looks in the rearview mirror at her.

"Yeah," she replies. "I'm not wearing 13 for no reason."

"Ah, the captain," he says as he pulls out front of the Prudential Center. "Good choice. Well, good luck to the boys tonight. Hopefully they can bring home this dub against Detroit."

Yeah, me too. She doesn't say it out loud as she gets out of the car. She grabs her suitcase and heads around the building where she knows Nico parks all the time.

(Y/N) puts her suitcase in the trunk of Nico's car with the extra key she has before she heads to the back entrance of the building. With a flash of the VIP badge and ticket that she bought to security, (Y/N) gets into the back entrance of the Prudential Center with no issues.

She can hear the starting lineups being announced as she rushes through the concourse so they haven't even gotten to the National Anthem yet as she practically sprints to the seat she bought.

The singer is being announced as she walks down the steps to her front row seat right next to the Devils' bench. Luckily, Nico is standing closest to the glass on the ice as the singer begins to sing.

She isn't being very subtle with the way she's walking in front of everyone. When she looks on the ice, she sees that her boyfriend is looking at her. Nico smiles and bites his bottom lip when she looks at him. She gives him a small wave then shows him the jersey she's wearing. He has to repress the smile that threatens to spill onto his lips.

Then applause breaks out throughout the arena, signaling that the anthem has ended. Nico puts his helmet back on and skates to his teammates. (Y/N) settles down in her seat and sends Nico a 'looking good out there' text she knows he will see at intermission.

Their eyes occasionally find each other throughout the game. Jack even notices Nico looking toward her at one point during a power play and says something to his captain. Nico's face turns visibly red when he looks at his alternate. Jack laughs at whatever Nico says to him. (Y/N) can't help but capture Nico's flustered face as he gets ready for the faceoff. She'll have to ask him about it later.

Timo scores one in the second period and one in the third. Tyler scores the game winner with eight minutes left in the third, and the Devils hang on for the win. Nico gets a couple shots on goal but no puck luck.

As first star of the game Timo gets interviewed on the ice, (Y/N) makes her way to Nico's car.

She doesn't know if she's shivering from how cold it is outside or if it's because she's excited to see her boyfriend for the first time in over a week. Either way, her entire body is shaking.

While she waits for Nico, she leans against his car and scrolls through social media. There are clips of her arriving to the game and Nico's reaction to seeing her all over Twitter. She can't help but share one of the videos of Nico's reaction with a little heart emoji. The replies and quotes start rolling in almost immediately. The Devils fans are loving the confirmation that Nico was looking at her during the anthem.

The door opens and (Y/N) watches Nico walk into the parking lot with Jack, Luke, Jonas, and Timo. She smiles and walks up to the group.

"Congratulations on your two goal night, Timo," she says to get the group's attention. "And first star." Timo smiles in response but doesn't have time to say anything before Nico finally makes a move.

He immediately envelopes her in a hug as soon as he processes that she's standing in front of him. She giggles when her boyfriend lifts her off her feet. She wraps her legs around his waist so she doesn't fall. "I think that's our cue to leave," Timo tells the Hughes boys as he walks in the direction of his car.

Jack laughs, "Have a good night, cap."

"Use protection," the youngest Hughes states as he, Jack, and Timo head to their cars. She smiles at Luke's comment.

Nico has no reaction to what his teammates say. He's busy burying his face in (Y/N)'s neck and holding her in his arms. "

They stay like this for a few seconds before Nico finally sets her back down on the ground. His hands cup her jaw and she wraps her arms around his waist under his jacket. "I thought your flight was going to get in while I was playing," Nico finally says to her.

"And miss your last game before the short winter break?" she asks with a smile on her lips. "Absolutely not. I know you guys haven't been playing very well and I know how that's been making you feel so I wanted to be here tonight. Proud of you and the boys for bringing in a win going into the break."

A little frown forms on his lips. "You didn't have to leave your family early just to be here for me," he tells her. "Oh my God."

She fixes his beanie and lets out a light laugh. "They told me to come back," she admits to him. "I told them about our conversation after the last game and how I wished I could be there for you because of how frustrated you were so I switched to an earlier flight. Seemed to do the trick because you won tonight."

Nico smiles and shakes his head. His thumbs run over her cheekbones and he sighs. "I truly don't deserve you," he quietly says. "Best girlfriend ever."

"Best boyfriend ever," she retorts as she gets on her tiptoes. They share a quick, soft kiss that Nico tries to deepen but she doesn't let it get too far away from them. "Can we go home? I miss Nala and her cuddles."

He laughs at the mention of their kitten that they adopted a month ago. "Yes, we can go home," he says. "Pretty sure Nala misses you too. She cried right after you left and has slept on your side of the bed every night you've been away."

They get in the car and Nico takes off the beanie. Her jaw drops.

"You asshole," she gasps as Nico starts the car. "You cut your hair."

Nico smiles and she runs her fingers through his shortened locks. "It was too long, liebling," he laughs as he pulls out of the parking spot. "It was getting in the way more often than not." She pouts and Nico notices. "It'll grow back, baby. Promise."

"And you better not cut it again without my approval," she retorts. "You know how much I love the longer hair. Don't make me hide all of the scissors in New Jersey and New York, because I will."

"So dramatic."

"You love me anyway."

He glances over at her with a small smile on his face. "Yeah, I do."

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