#Nico thinks he's smooth

[adventures-written]

(character name) has appeared! What to do?

Muse;; Nicholas D. Wolfwood

Stolen from @vashtxt​

Kiss cheek Bang Worship Kiss on the lips

“One at a time. Form a single line.”

[wu-does-art]

misc solangelo pen doodles

[puckinghischier]

Falling

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader gets hurt and nico is worried about her

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

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

[4.5k]

part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His hands shoot out to grab your forearms.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He skates off, winking before resuming his practice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She sighs into the phone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N! Open up!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uhhh, breakfast?” you recall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nico, you’re like…really good at this,” you reach your good hand to the back of your head, running it down the braid.

“Told you, I had a lot of practice,” he shrugs, setting the mirror down.

You yawn, the relaxing nature of having your hair braided allowing you to realize how tired you are from the day’s events.

“Nuh-uh, gotta keep you awake until we get some food in you,” he tuts, taking his hands and patting your cheeks.

You groan, leaning into his palms that stay resting on your face.

“C’mon, let’s get you changed and on the couch,” he motions for you to leave the bathroom.

You walk to your room, Nico helping you carefully remove your sling before leaving and giving you some privacy.

You change into your pajamas, somehow managing to get your arm into an oversized Devils shirt you found at the bottom of your drawer.

Nico is standing outside of your door when you open it, helping you back into your sling.

He stands in front of you, staring at you with a look that you can’t decipher.

“Is…everything okay?” you question him, noticing his stare after adjusting your sling.

His eyes snap up to you, seemingly unaware that he was even staring at you in the first place.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I just- is that my shirt?” he asks you, pointing to your pj shirt.

You look down at the oversized shirt, trying to think of where you got it.

It had just showed up in your laundry basket one day, assuming it was one they gave you when you got your job, but Nico’s question makes you think harder.

You realize, suddenly, you do remember where you got it.

During one of your post lesson dinners, Nico had spilled his drink all over his shirt. You offered to wash it for him after he changed to a shirt in his duffel.

You meant to take it back to him after you washed it, but forgot about it entirely, packing it away in your pajama drawer.

“Oh, crap, it is. Do you want it back, I can go change?” you ask him, worried he’s upset that you forgot to give it back.

“No…no it’s fine. Keep it. I have plenty,” he shakes his head, glancing down at it once more.

The two of you make your way to your couch, finding something to watch on tv when there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of your food.

You start to stand to go get it, but Nico sternly tells you to stay put.

Rolling your eyes you sit back down, grabbing the remote and continuing to channel surf.

Nico’s gone for longer than you expect, causing you to sit up and turn back towards your kitchen, wondering what’s taking him so long.

You see him walking over to you, a tray full of food in his hands.

He had ordered from your favorite sushi place, figuring it would be the easiest for you to eat one handed.

As he sat down the tray on the coffee table in front of you, you realized what took him so long.

Nico had put a toothpick in each piece of your sushi, knowing using chopsticks with your non dominant hand would have been hard for you. He poured soy sauce into a small container, allowing you to simply pick up each toothpick and dip it in the sauce before popping it in your mouth.

He had also ordered you a bottle of cherry coke, which he knew was your favorite, and placed it on the tray with the lid unscrewed and a straw peeking out of the bottle next to a glass of ice, just incase you wanted it that way instead.

You looked up at him, feeling that funny feeling in your chest like you did earlier in your kitchen, blown away at how he always seems to think of everything he can to help you out, even when you’re not injured.

You must’ve been looking for longer than you realized, because he cocks his head at you, confusion present on his face.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what’s wrong. “Did you not want sushi? I thought you said it was always the one thing that could cheer you up?”

You shake your head at him. “No, sushi is perfect,” you tell him, a small smile on your face as you look up at him.

He smiles back for a few moments, then started scooting the coffee table towards you so you don’t have to reach to grab your food. He moves around the table to sit beside of you, the size of the small table causing him to sit so close to you that you can feel the warmness of his large thigh against yours.

You once again think about all of the things he’s done for you without you even having to ask. Now including coming over after a game—no doubt exhausted and sore—and taking care of you without even thinking twice. Braiding your hair and calling you pretty. Staring at you unintentionally wearing his t-shirt. Modifying your food so it’s easier for you to eat with one hand.

You sit there, staring at the man you fear you’re falling in love with, already planning out the apology text you’re going to have to send your mom.

[chaostudee]

smooth operator , carlos sainz.

summary : y/n is a journalist just starting out her career in the motorsport industry, it's not long for her to find an attraction to a certain ferrari driver. warnings : none faceclaim : lissie mackintosh a/n : first carlos fic 🤭 my fav forever and ever.

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carlossainz dinner date with my girl ❤️

liked by y/nusername, charlesleclerc, landonorris and 2,719,469 others.

y/nusername you always take the best pics of me 🤭

carlossainz it's hard to take a bad one when you look beautiful all the time

charlesleclerc el matador el matador

y/nusername CARLOS SAINZ

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user_67 im so single

taglist ⭑.ᐟ

@lottalove4evelyn

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[abilouwrites]

FAMILY SKATE

Nico Hischier

(Forgive my German it’s been so long sense I’ve spoken the language)

“You know I don’t know how to skate..” I trail off slightly as I look around; Nico on his knees tying my laces, “right? I think I’m gonna make a fool of myself” I try to back out of this but he holds my hand and hoists me up and I wobble, “I’m gonna fall”

“I’ll catch you if you fall, just breathe. Don’t worry” he reassures as I slowly walk my way to the ice; I take the guards off and walk onto the ice. Immediately tripping over myself and landing on my ass.

“So much about that catching thing” I retort as he glides over and helps me up once again

“I wasn’t ready!” He laughs, taking my glove off to hold my hand, “I don’t think you’re going to need these meine Leibe” I stare at him and nod as I let him lead me around the rink.

“Uh huh… hold my hand tighter I’m scared” I laugh suddenly- a quite and short burst of laughter that makes Nico look up from his focus on others back to me, “you ok?” I ask as he nods slowly. His finger feels around my engagement ring and he relaxes slightly.

“Just nervous, people are gonna see the ring on your finger and— I want them to like you. I mean I know they are but it’s still” he takes a breath and puts an arm around my shoulder and skates next to me

“I know, I’ll love you even if they hate me. I promise” I laugh a bit as he glides me into a smooth kiss, “oh it’s Jack and his girlfriend.. are they dating?” I question after question

“You know what.. I’m not too sure” he shrugs, “you wanna try a spin?” He asks and I stare him down

“Do you want to kill your future wife?”

[mediumgayitalian]

“Come here, you dweeb. Let me fix it.”

Will pouts, dragging his feet over and slumping half on top of him. Nico allows it with a smile and a roll of his eyes, pinching Will’s shoulder. He doesn’t react except for a wounded noise, muffled in Nico’s lap, so the situation is evidently quite dire.

“It’s just hair, Will.”

“But I worked on it!” He shifts around until he’s got his head in Nico’s lap, face turned towards him, body curled up on the grass around him. Nico brushes his tangled bangs off his forehead, meeting his big sad eyes. “I spent forty minutes with a stupid brush! And yet!”

“And yet,” Nico agrees, unable to appropriately school is face into one of somber understanding. Will scowls at him for his lack of proper sympathy, a little bit of genuine hurt in his eyes, so Nico leans down and kisses right between his brows in apology. He seems mollified, if only slightly, or at least he leans into Nico’s touch and stops mumbling quite so much.

“‘S’not fair.”

“Mhm.“

“Your hair listens to your instructions.”

“Yep.”

“Even Cecil’s hair listens to him, and no one listens to Cecil.”

Nico purses his lips thoughtfully. “I think Austin listens to Cecil.”

“Yes, I know. It’s an ongoing issue. I’m trying to train him out of it.”

“And how’s that going?” Nico murmurs, curling a strand of golden blond hair around his finger.

“Oh, well, I’m doing my best, so of course it’s going horribly.”

Nico snorts. He resists the urge to hold his palms to Will’s cheeks and kiss every single freckle at light speed, because he will screech something about how Nico is one-upping him in the romance department or something stupid like that. Instead he settles for looking at his dumb dramatic boyfriend’s face and marvelling over the fact that the cutest boy in the entire world, and Nico is being totally objective, hunts around camp until he finds whatever tree Nico is hiding under and curls up into a ball around him and trusts Nico to hold him while he complains about stupid things that genuinely hurt his feelings a little. It’s nice. So many people at camp are still so rigid around him, like he’s collecting information for their judgement day or something. Will prefers to exercise his lesser-known Apollonian talent of being a bigger drama queen than the god himself.

“Stay still,” Nico says softly, moving Will around so he’s laying perpendicular to Nico, now, head centered in his lap and staring up at the sky. Will sighs and squirms a little and turns his head to press a kiss to Nico’s knee, scrunching up his face and releasing it, and then settles in the position.

Humming something soft that exists on the fringes of his foggy memories, he sinks his hands into Will’s hair.

“It’s not that bad,” he promises, moving slowly and pausing whenever he comes across a knot.

Will harrumphs.

“I mean it, Marilyn Monroe. You can tone down the histrionics.”

“I used gel.”

Nico flicks a dried clump of it onto Will’s forehead, amused. “I can see that.”

“I followed every single one of Mitchell’s instructions!”

“I bet.”

“And yet!”

“And, yet.”

Nico has a sneaking suspicion that someone made a comment about Will’s hair, in the last few weeks. He can never confirm it and Will has been shifty about it every time he asks, but Nico has noticed the uptick in hoods and hats the past month and his little flinches every time Nico reaches up and tugs on it. Despite being oddly confident about the oddest things — why he is so proud of being able to fit his fist in his mouth, Nico will never know — Will is very sensitive to how people think of him. He needs to know he’s liked, and when people don’t like him, he gets…desperate, pleasing. The opposite of Nico, who becomes worse in an attempt to push them away on his own terms.

Nico leans down and presses a long, lingering kiss to his forehead.

“I like your hair, you know.”

“It’s a stupid mess.”

He smooths down a handful of it, pressing it over Will’s eye. He manages to keep a straight face for one, two, three seconds before he huffs a laugh, batting Nico’s hands away. Nico grins.

“I like the stupid mess.”

“Yeah, well, you like a lot of weird things.”

“Like you?” Nico suggests, pressing another kiss to the tip of his rounded nose.

“Shut up.”

Another strange thing about him, that Nico has to duck his head to hide his automatic smile: he gets embarrassed easily.

Nico never expected it of him, with all the dorky, medical-themed pickup lines and general shamelessness in his affection towards everybody on Earth, but especially Nico. When the poking, prodding attraction is turned on him, however, he shuts down like an overloaded Playstation. Nico can sometimes see the error messages playing behind its eyes. It’s hilarious.

“Will.” He pokes him in the cheek. “Hey.”

“What,” Will grumbles.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Watching the slow spread of red from below the collar of his shirt to the roots of his hair is a delight. Nico watches in glee, wrestling Will’s hands away when he tries to slap them over his face.

“Shut up! Leave me alone! Go — flirt with somebody else!”

“You’d curse them to speak in rhymes for ten years,” Nico teases.

Will makes an agonised noise. “Who! Asked you! Shut up!”

“You’d sic Kayla on anyone who so much as winks at me, you jealous bitch.”

“I would not!”

“You would so. You rolled your eyes at everything Percy said for three weeks when you found out I used to crush on him —”

“I did not!”

“— and you didn’t even have the balls to ask me out, back then.”

“You are a — peddler of falsehoods! A prevaricator, a perjurer, and a fabulist!”

“And you sound like you swallowed a thesaurus,” Nico snickers. He catches the hand Will flails at him, pressing a kiss to the wrist, which only serves to fluster him more. He decides to take mercy when the kisses he trails down his arms result in one loud, long, tortured screech, pulling back and giving him some space.

Notably, he doesn’t move from Nico’s lap.

“I like it,” Nico admits, once Will has calmed down some. “I like that you’ve liked me for so long.”

Will peeks through the fingers he has covering his eyes. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Yes.” Nico squeezes his shoulders. “And endearing, which seems to be your sweet spot.” He presses a much softer kiss to the underside of Will’s ear, lingering there until he sighs, slumping under all the tension finally leaving his body. “I love you, Will. I love your clumsiness and your rambles and your nose and your freckles and your awkwardness and your jealousy and your hair and I love you, Will, all of you. Even the embarrassing weird parts.” He kisses him again. “Especially the weird parts.”

Will breathes slowly, carefully, evenly, face pressed to the inside of Nico’s thigh. His long eyelashes tickle his skin. Nico can feel the press of his Adam’s apple when he swallows, pulsing against his calf.

“I never thought you were a freak.”

Nico brushes his knuckles over his cheek. “I know.”

“I used to — talk about you. All the time. And your oxytocin levels.”

He smiles.

“I know.”

“Lee had a — chart.” Some of the flush rises back up in his cheeks. “A ‘Days Since We’ve Heard About Di Angelo’ chart.”

Nico bites his lip. Hard.

“The number never got higher than six.”

“…I am trying really, really hard, Will.”

Will sighs.

“You can laugh.”

Nico cracks up, trying desperately to muffle his giggles in his bitten fist. It doesn’t work very well, but the glare Will sends him is somewhat softened by the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Gods, you are — a mess.”

“Mhm.”

Nico cups the side of his face. Will turns, slightly, enough to press a kiss to the centre of his palm and then stay there, eyes closed, breathing against his sword-callused skin.

“I love you too, by the way. Obviously.”

“I know.”

“Don’t Han Solo me, you bastard.”

“Go ahead and try to stop me,” Nico challenges, grinning into the passionately indignant kiss Will presses to his lips, finally, letting Nico curl his hands in his hair.

[saetoru]

Tee imagine being vash’s first kiss :(

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。FIRST — VASH THE STAMPEDE.

「 SYNOPSIS 」 ⋮ vash has never fallen in love—not before you, that is (2.1k words)

☽ contents ⋮ mutual pining, slightly jealous vash (of nicholas), confessions, fluff

☽ notes ⋮ i don’t even think this has anything to do with the ask anymore LMAO i got carried away but here <3

“nico, get your grimy fingers off my share,” you huff, shoving nicholas’s fingers away from the last few bites of your lunch.

food is scarce these days—more so than usual, and you don’t even try to hide your hunger when you finally find a place to grab a bite. vash eyes you as your lips are curled into a soft frown, the crinkle of your brows making his throat dry—because you’re cute, even with a look of pure irritation on your face, you’re soft and angelic and you make his heart skip a beat.

“c’mon, give me a bite or two,” nicholas chuckles, sneaking his way back to reach for your share of food, “you try carrying that big ol’ cross around all day.”

this time, you slap his hand away, huffing as you shift closer to vash to put extra distance between you and nicholas. vash has to keep himself from leaning in when he feels the warmth of your body radiate against him at the proximity.

“oh, you’re such a jackass, y’know?” you grumble, rolling your eyes at the easy chuckle nicholas gives you. but vash can see it—the beginnings of a smile you try (and fail) to fight back as you shake your head. “you’re the one who insists on carrying such a flashy weapon.”

“well it saved your pretty little head a few times didn’t it?” he shoots back. nicholas is easy to talk to like that, banter filling the air between you as you dance around each other with petty taunts and sly grins and stolen touches through pokes to the forehead.

vash thinks the only time he’s ever touched you is to pull you away from danger. in fact, he thinks it’d be easier to fight off an entire city after him than pluck the courage to reach out and flick your forehead the way nicholas does. it’s so smooth, so simple, so natural—and he can from tell the way your eyes soften for nicholas that it must be love.

he glances down at his food, feels his appetite dwindle and his chest tighten, and soon enough there’s an extra share of food pressed to your hand as he stands up.

“i’m not hungry,” he smiles softly, “you have it.”

you blink for a moment before opening your mouth to protest. “but vash—”

he’s off before you can finish talking, climbing into the van and closing the door while everyone stares after his figure and blinks. you frown, looking back at nicholas who only grins wider, holding a hand out for the half eaten dinner in your hold.

“well, don’t be greedy. share the goods,” he insists.

you roll your eyes, pulling away from his outstretched hand as you glare at him.

“something’s wrong,” you announce. meryl and roberto share a look, glancing quickly between you and nicholas again before continuing eating, making your brows furrow. “you guys know, don’t you?”

“everyone does, sweet cheeks,” nicholas chuckles, shaking his head, “you’re a bit more oblivious than i thought.”

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” you glare, but he only eyes you with amusement, turning back to finish the last few bites of his dinner before standing up and walking off, mumbling about needing a smoke under his breath.

you stare back at the van, unsure whether or not you’re supposed to go after vash—whether or not he even wants you there. it takes you a few moments of contemplation before you ultimately stand up, earning a look from meryl and a sigh from roberto.

“i’m gonna go after him,” you announce.

it doesn’t take long to walk up to the van and climb in, finding vash sitting slouched on his side of the back seat, looking out the window. he almost looks…defeated—it’s a type of vash you don’t think you’ve ever really seen.

“vash?” you ask softly, making him tense for a moment before he glances at you, offering a poor attempt of a reassuring smile.

you don’t think vash has ever successfully hidden an emotion ever in his life. for as long as you’ve known him—though it’s not been that long—he’s worn his heart on his sleeve and his emotions bared before you whether he means to or not. you sit down beside him, staring at your lap as he stares out the window again.

“hey,” he says quietly, “why aren’t you with everyone else?”

“why aren’t you?” you counter gently.

“ah, well,” he chuckles nervously, painfully aware of how close your knees are from brushing, “just wanted to sit. and think, i guess,” he says quietly.

“about what?”

“just stuff,” he mumbles.

he doesn’t want to tell you he thinks about how he must be in love with you, doesn’t want to admit as much when you’ve clearly got someone else in your heart. vash has never fallen in love—but he thinks if he’d have to give the feeling a label, it’d be you.

he thinks it has to be love when the first pair of eyes he searches for are yours, making sure you’re okay before he even thinks about checking on anyone else. what else could it be besides love when even if for a split second, the very thought of you being in danger makes his gun leave its holster and ready to aim. if not love, he’s not sure what else it could be when he’s so nervous around you, he feels words stick to his throat like he’s choking.

vash has never fallen in love before, but there’s no mistaking this feeling now that it hits him.

you’re kind—maybe a bit more than you should be to him since he does nothing but drag you into danger. the rational part of him wishes you’d stop coming with him wherever he goes, it hopes you’ll see you have so much to live for outside of cleaning up his messes. the more desperate part of him feels nauseous at the idea of you going your separate ways—he can protect you, can’t he? the desert is a dangerous place with or without him and if you’re in danger one way or another, you should stick by his side where he can keep an eye on you.

no, vash has never been in love—but he’s sure as hell seen it happen before his own two eyes in the many, many years he’s lived.

and he knows you’re in love with nicholas with one painful glance.

“c’mon vash,” you nudge his shoulder with your own, “we’re friends, i know you better than that. something’s wrong. are you upset about what those people in that last town said to you? because i’ll march right up to them and give them hell and back if—”

friends.

he’s tuned you out, too hyper focused on that awful burning sensation pooling in his chest, the one that hits him as soon as you use that cruel word. of course vash is just your friend, why wouldn’t he be? he can’t remember the last time someone actually wanted him around at all let alone as something more.

he doesn’t even notice your hand reaching for his until it lays over his fist, gently unclamping it from the fabric of his coat. he doesn’t even notice he’s been fisting it this whole time, doesn’t even notice his shoulders are tense until you lean your head on it.

“you don’t have to tell me,” you murmur gently, “i’ll wait here with you.”

“why?” he can’t help but ask, can’t help but wonder why you care to spend your time here when you could be there. with nicholas. without him.

“because i care about you.” you say it like it’s obvious, like he should already know that.

perhaps he does—you do care about him, he can see it with the way you help clean his wounds and scold him for being reckless…just maybe not in the way he wishes you would.

“are you ever going to tell nicholas how you feel?” he asks.

you sit up, shock on your face and a crease in your brows as you stare at him in bewilderment. he almost thinks he’s asked something out of line, something he should apologize for. but before he can offer you a stuttered apology, you beat him to it.

“what?” you chuckle. “do i look like i feel something for nicholas?”

“you don’t?” he sounds shocked, making you blink.

“no,” you shake your head, grimacing like the idea is an unpleasant one. “he’s a nuisance i tolerate at best.”

“oh,” is all he says, surprised. it’s silent for a moment before he hesitantly asks, “is…is there someone?”

he doesn’t want to know the answer either way. yes means the pain of knowing there’s someone else he has to let you go to. no means it’s not him even with no one else to compete with at all. but he figures whether your answer is yes or no, it’s enough to force him to let go.

“well…” you hesitate for a moment, inhaling before letting out a shaky breath and slumping back to his shoulder, “can i be honest?”

“of course,” he says instantly.

“i don’t know how you’ll take it,” you admit quietly, and he can hear the slight shakiness in your voice—like you’re nervous, like what you’re about to say will change everything.

but vash knows no matter what you’ll say, no matter what you’ll ever do, he’ll still keep loving you even if you don’t need him to.

“is it embarrassing?”

“no,” you shake your head, “well, maybe a little. depends on how you react. i might look stupid.”

“can’t be worse than running out of bullets,” he smiles softly, “i bet i looked pretty stupid then.”

“a little,” you admit, giggling. and then you both laugh softly, your cheek against his shoulder and your hand gently clasped over his. distantly, you can hear nicholas ask where you are—and you know it’s not long before you’ll lose this rare moment alone. so you take a deep breath, stare at your hand over his as you mumble, “i think i love you. a little. actually, that’s a lie—a lot. like, a whole lot.”

he blinks.

he feels his breath hitch and your shoulders tense and his heart race all at once. for a second he thinks he might’ve heard you wrong—but then you whisper how you understand if he doesn’t feel the same way, how it’s okay, really! you understand, it’s not his fault and you can still be friends because you’re fine with friends. just as long as he’s still in your life because he’s important to you and friends is better than nothing at all.

and then he cuts you off with a soft chuckle, making you pause and glance up at him with doubt on your face.

“can i be honest too?” he smiles gently, melting your heart even as it shatters just a little in your chest.

“of course,” you whisper.

“i love you too. not a little though. a lot. i thought you had a thing for nicholas, though—”

“nico is rude and smells like smoke. i wouldn’t kiss him if my life depended on it,” you interrupt with a crinkle of your nose, making him chuckle with bright eyes and love scribbled over the curves of his features.

he leans in, presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes when your hand cups a cheek gently.

“good,” he murmurs, “but don’t worry, i’ll keep you safe. your life will never depend on kissing him.”

“good,” you hum, “because i only want to kiss you.”

and then you do, slow and sweet and so in love. it’s his first kiss—he doesn’t really know what to do, but he follows your lead and learns fast, soft lips molding with yours and mingling your warm breath with his. vash doesn’t even care he’s gone this long without feeling something as gentle as being in love. he’s in love now, with you—and he’s glad you love him too and not nicholas wolfwood, the man who keeps trying to steal dinner from under your nose.

“are you two done in there already?” nicholas is pounding on the door, making you pull away with a sour look on your face. “we got places to be. better not be baby making where i’m about to sleep.”

“can’t you make one exception and kill him?” you whine, making vash chuckle before he leans to kiss you again, more chaste this time. and again, and again.

vash has never fallen in love—and he’s sure it’s because he was meant to wait this long to fall in love with you.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[spiderbeam]

congrats on 1k eve!!!! 🫶

🎧 + lando + 27 :)

🎧 — mercho by lil cake, migrantes & nico valdi

bonus: frat au!lando

You can still hear the music coming from downstairs as you stand inside the bathroom. It’s more muted now, but not easily ignored.

Your top is on the sink. Pretty, expensive, and now with a personalized stain of cheap wine bleeding into the white fabric. There’s frustration boiling inside your gut as you stare at it. It’s ruined. It’s unsalvageable. It’s—

A gentle knock on the door.

“You okay in there?” Lando asks from outside his bathroom, voice slightly muffled.

You inhale sharply, nodding even though he can’t see you. You start pulling his orange shirt over your head as you open the door, shrugging it on.

When your face finally pokes through, you find Lando leaning against the doorframe, eyes expectant. He smiles, dimples showing. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you say, averting your eyes to look down around his shirt. “So. I look like a traffic cone.”

Lando clicks his tongue as his eyes drop to his own shirt wrapped around your frame. “I think the words you’re searching for are thank you.” His gaze lingers, before returning back to your face. “I can take it back if you don’t want it.”

You scoff. “Yeah, right. I’m not going back to a frat party without a shirt on.”

Lando shrugs, pushing himself off the doorframe. “Suit yourself.” But then, even inside his dimly-lit room of his frat, you can see his eyes staying a moment too long on his papaya-colored shirt.

You tilt your head. “What?”

“Nothing,” he answers, a bit too quickly. Lando smiles at you, and for just a moment, you think you can see pink dusting his cheeks. “Nothing, it’s just… never mind. It looks good on you, I guess. Oversized stuff, I mean. Not that I didn’t like your other shirt—”

“I thought you frat boys were supposed to be smooth.”

“I am,” Lando replies defensively. “Or I can be. When I want to.” You make a noncommittal ‘ah’ before Lando tilts his head towards the door of his bedroom. “Whatever. Ready to join the party again?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Lando offers his hand, and you’re not quite sure why you choose to take it. You’re not that close—friends, sure, but less of the type that tell each other secrets, and more of the kind that can share a laugh at a party. And so, when you got your entire front drenched in wine, you expected Oscar to come to your aid, maybe Logan—but Lando?

He guides you out of his room and down the stairs with his hand still holding yours. The music beats against your eardrums. You can hear shouting from downstairs, alongside singing and cheering. Funny, how for a moment there your whole night seemed to be ruined—and yet the party didn’t even stumble.

By the time you reach the end of the stairs with Lando, the song that’s blearing over the speakers is making it hard to hear anything other than its lyrics. And yet, even past the music that threatens to make your head spin, you still manage to spot him across the room. The reason you got cheap wine spilled on you. The reason Lando had to come to your rescue in the first place.

Your ex-boyfriend.

He’s pretending not to notice, but you can see him angling his face towards you. His eyes drop to your—Lando’s—shirt, to your hand in his. And only then do you realize he seems to be talking to another girl, his hands on her waist.

Asshole.

Lando notices. “You okay? We can—”

You turn to him abruptly. “Do you wanna dance?”

Lando blinks at you, brow twitching. “What?”

“Do you wanna dance?” you repeat, still feeling your ex’s stare on you. You tilt your head towards the mass of people on the opposite side of the room, still holding his hand.

The corner of his lips curve upward, and he laughs lightly, but follows you into the dance floor anyway. The music seems to vibrate against the walls. Bodies bump against yours, swaying to the song. Your hands settle around Lando’s neck, his resting on your waist.

Lando leans closer to your ear. “I know what you’re doing, you know.” He’s looking somewhere behind you—you wonder if he’s meeting your ex boyfriend’s stare. You hope he looks pissed. You hope it ruins his night.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answer simply.

Lando chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s okay.” His eyes drop from your face, to his shirt, to your lips. “I don’t mind being used by you.”

the funny thing about this song is that mercho (song title) is just slang for mercedes lmao

eve’s 1k event 🎧

[imperatorrrrr]

Rapid Fire w/Nico Hischier

Q: Besides the Devils, which team improved the most last season? A: I think Nashville

Q: Why? A: I mean, they definitely have some great additions, and overall they were a pretty good team last year. So they've gotten some really experienced players and some even more experienced players. I think they've improved a lot.

Q: Has there ever been a Nico Hischier Night at the Rock? A: No, I don't think so. I mean, I once had a Nico and Chico Resch Bobblehead Night.

Q: Let's say you get your own dedicated evening and you get to choose the giveaway. What would it be? A: I would make it so that everyone gets a really good Swiss chocolate.

Q: Is there a particular brand? A: Ragusa or Ovaltine

Q: Not Tolberone? A: No, you can get that everywhere. That doesn't count. But I like it too.

Q: Which athlete inspired you the most as a child? A: I would say Roger Federer. Pretty easy answer for a Swiss. I think he probably inspired a lot of people.

Q: Name one teammate that will surprise people this season. A: Jesper Bratt. It just feels like every summer or every season he has another (big) year. I can also name Luke Hughes. I think he's worked really hard this summer and is ready for his second year, so I'd say Luke as well.

Q: What talent of another player's do you wish you had? Probably Jack's (Hughes) smooth hands. They're pretty smooth, like always, not loud and just smooth.

Q: You probably mentor some of the younger players now. When you came into the league, which teammate was your mentor? A: When I came to the Devils, there were a lot of older players and I had some great mentors. Obviously, Andy Greene, our captain at the time, was one of the players I looked up to. I also remember Brian Boyle being there with me. And of course Travis Zajac, who's been with the Devils for a very long time. For me as a center and also for him as a center, I always watched his game and learned from him, especially the way he always played in our own zone. I think he was at a top level in the D-zone for many years and still created offense. He was definitely an inspiration to me as well, especially watching him on the faceoffs.

Q: What is the next non-hockey trip you would like to take? A: A private trip to Costa Rica.

Q: Is this going to happen or is this just a plan? A: Just a plan.

Q: What's something most people don't know about New Jersey or the Tri-State Area? A: That we have great bagels. Everyone knows that.

Q: What don't the Swiss know about New Jersey? A: Swiss probably don't know much about New Jersey at all. [Neither did I when I was younger.] Jersey has a lot to offer. Jersey has its beaches. Jersey also has its nature and yes, it has all that. The location on the east coast is very good. In Jersey you will find what you are looking for.

Q: Who is the most disciplined nutritionist on the Devils? A: Probably Bratter.

Q: What does he do? A: He's just a super healthy guy. He knows what he eats and what gives him energy, and he's just a very intelligent person when it comes to what he puts in his body and what he does with his body. Yes, he's worked hard on himself and knows a lot.

Q: What is the best rivalry in the NHL today? A: I would say New York Rangers versus New Jersey Devils. I'll take that.

Q: Unfortunately Switzerland won't be playing in the 4-nation face-off. Will you still be watching and who will you be picking? A: Yes, I will be watching on the beach somewhere. I will definitely be watching and it should be really interesting games because they are all great, great teams. They will all have very good teams. I'm probably picking USA. It's hard to pick one team because every team is obviously very strong.

Q: Maybe watch from the beach in Costa Rica? A: Maybe...maybe

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter eight:

➴ warnings: none!!

➴ word count: 3.6k

➴ author’s note: don’t you guys love when people kiss and make up?

sophiamontenegro

liked by taylorzakharperez, zendaya, billboard and 2,692,102 others.

sophiamontenegro thanks for having me, new york 🎅🏻

View all 20,672 comments

mtv JAW IS ON THE FLOOR

trevorzegras you should’ve come to anaheim

sophiamontenegro @.trevorzegras and u should fuck off

ilovhockey77 @sophiamontenegro @.trevorzegras I wanna know the beef between them so bad someone put me in soph’s close friends list

saraunyn @ilovhockey77 im pretty sure its just Trevor who doesn’t know how to take a hint…

arianagrande i love you

morgan.grace you’re so fucking hot Sophia the hell

lovssoph PROUD TO SAY THAT I WAS IN THAT CROWD

— ♡

DECEMBER always brought more work than you’d like to have but for the first time since you started working as a singer, you were grateful for it.

You had so many appearances, so many fans to see, so many concerts to do. You were grateful singing was your favorite thing to do because time passed and you didn’t even notice it.

But, now some of the fuss calmed down and you were able to spend time doing things that weren’t related to your career, like;

“Sophia, come on, you’re gonna be late!” Grace shouted from the living room and you laughed, pouring the butter flavored popcorn into a bowl. “Sophia!”

“Jesus, Grace, calm down,” you shouted back, looking for napkins. “It’s not like we have to be there or whatever.”

Today the Devils were playing against the Blackhawks and Grace asked you if you both could watch it at your house.

“We don’t have to if you think it will make you sad, but i really wanted to watch Nico tonight.” Grace smiled, not even trying to hide how she was head over heels for him.

“It’s okay, Grace, I swear. I want to see Nico too,” you smiled, trying to hide the fact that you’d secretly been watching all of their games, desperate to catch a glimpse of Jack’s blue eyes. “We can do a girls night.”

“But you’re losing all the good shit,” she whined. “The Blackhawks players are fine, too. That Bedard kid is a cute, little honeybun.”

You chuckled, walking away from the kitchen and sitting on the couch beside her, putting the bowl on the table.

“He has a girlfriend, y’know. He dates his teammate’s sister, Ellie I think.”

“Oh, I think I saw a picture of them together at a party last month,” she tapped her chin with her index finger. “They do look cute together.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, watching as the commentator introduced the players. “Who do you think is going to win?”

“Girl, I don’t like to tell anyone my predictions because what if I jinx it?” She stared at you, like you were crazy just for asking.

You rolled your eyes. “Ever since you and Nico started fucking you became awfully surpersticious.”

“Sophia Montenegro!” She raised her arms, kicking you with her feet. “You can’t talk to me like that! I’m your sister.”

“Which gives me permission to say that you and Nico are fucking. Who cares?” You kicked her back, starting a kicking fight.

You both just stopped when you were both out of breath and the game was starting. The first period was going surprisingly smooth for the Blackhawks, which made you— secretly— worry.

Jack has probably seen better days. You would always say that he’s the number one player in the team because for you he absolutely is, but even someone who didn’t know anything about Hockey could tell that he was lacking.

You bit your lips and squeezed your thighs because, even after everything, Jack looked so fucking good. Especially with the black Devils uniform. He looked handsome and you knew that he was all of that, and he’d always be.

Sometimes you’d think about how good the sex between the two of you was, and you’d wonder if you’d find anything like that ever again.

At the end of the first period, the scoreboard read 2-1, the Blackhawks winning. You and Grace were in the middle of a discussion about how her ex looked like Shaggy from Scooby Doo when the commentator started showing the celebrities who showed up to the game.

“Who even cares about the celebrities who showed up?” You threw popcorn at the screen. “Or even better, since when do they show celebrities? Aren’t they supposed to be interviewing the players or whatever?”

“You know a lot for someone who doesn’t watch the games,” Grace teased you, and you just pushed a handful of popcorn inside your mouth. “And sorry to say this, sweetie, but if people didn’t care about celebrities, you and I wouldn’t have a job.”

You rolled your eyes, paying attention to the TV again.

“So, tell me, Nat, I’ve heard that we have some pretty famous people here today.” The announcer talked to the reporter who was standing in some kind of expensive room Sophia didn’t know the name of.

The black woman just smiled, nodding her head and bringing the microphone closer to her face.

“That’s right, Shaan. Some well known people blessed us with their presence here today…”

“I hope it's Ariana Grande or some shit like that.” Grace muttered beside you.

“Oh remind me to call her later, I need to visit her next time I’m in LA,” you replied mindlessly, still watching the sports channel.

“…And among all of these people, we have the one and only, Harris Dickinson and his girlfriend, Chloe McGill!”

“What?!” You heard Grace yelling beside you, which confirmed that what you were seeing wasn’t just your head trying to play games with you.

There he stood, in all his glory, with the cocky smirk that once gave you butterflies and was now making you sick, with his arm wrapped around a girl’s waist.

“Am I tripping or that girl looks awfully like you?”

You looked at the scene in front of you, where the reporter was now interviewing Harris with an enthusiastic smile. The girl beside him, Chloe you think, indeed looked a lot like you.

“She… she looks just like how I did when I started dating him,” you concluded, feeling sick all over again. “Even the fucking bangs, Grace.”

She put her hand on your left arm, caressing you. “I’m so sorry, bubba. Do you want me to turn it off?”

“No, ‘course not,” you reassured her, trying to smile. “I’m fine, I was just caught off guard, that’s all.”

“Okay,” Grace whispered. “Okay.”

“…I’m just happy to be here, y’know?” Harris stated, still showing his pearly white teeth. “I’m a huge Devils fan, just like my girl here.”

“That’s the biggest lie he’s ever said,” you laughed, feeling sorry for how pathetic he is. “He deadass couldn’t even stand the thought of Hockey, or any sport for that matter. What the hell is he even saying?”

“Well, apparently that little girlfriend of his, is the daughter of one of the Devils’ coaches,” Grace promptly replied, and you looked at her, ready to ask how the hell she knew that, but seeing the phone in her hand. “They’re like, rich as fuck.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Harris’ type to me.” You mumbled, praying that the second period would come faster.

And maybe God did hear your prayers because not even five minutes later, the Devils and the Blackhawks were back on the ice. The game was nerve wracking, your nails and eardrums long gone from how much you’d bitten them and how loud Grace screamed during the game.

Jack was smooth on ice, the best you’ve seen him playing all season, even before you and him fought. It was satisfying to watch him doing what he loved and you were happy that he was finally getting back on track.

Two hours later, the game ended; the Devils won. Grace cheered and jumped around while you laughed at her, happy to see her happy. Even if you didn’t understand much of hockey and even if you didn’t care about it, you were also thrilled, because you knew Jack would be happy.

You kinda hated your mind for always thinking about him but you couldn’t help it. Not when you saw how handsome he looked and not when you still loved him. A lot.

The same reporter from before, Nat, continued to talk, interviewing some of the players from the team. Grace whined about being hungry and you rolled your eyes, getting up to cook for her.

“What do you want?” You asked, opening your cabinets. “I can make pasta for us.”

“Ugh, yes, please,” she fake-moaned and you laughed. “If I’m going to fuck Nico tonight, Imma need all the carbs in the world,”

“You’re disgusting. I hope you know that,” you answered back, putting the water to boil.

“For Nico Hischier? Hell yes I am!”

You cut the onions and garlic, before putting olive oil on a separate pan and adding them. Grace continued to yap about the game, pointing out all the best players and who she liked best, while you just nodded and cooked.

“Ooh, they’re having a fancy celebrating party tonight!” She yelled from the living room, even if you could still see her and the TV because you had an open kitchen, grabbing your attention. “Is it a gala? I hope it is, Hockey players look so fucking good in suits.”

“And they say I’m the horny one…” you mumbled, putting the tomato sauce inside the pan.

“Can this woman give us some information we actually want to hear? I don’t care if they have points or not, I just want to see them in suits!”

“She’s just doing her job, Grace, stop being a whore.”

Moving around the kitchen, you finished Grace’s dinner, and grabbed a plate for her, not after filling up a glass of cold water and grating some cheese.

You went back to the living room, placing everything in front of her, while she hugged you from behind, giving you neck kisses.

“I am going to wife you up, baby!”

You giggled. “Shut up and eat, weirdo,”

She just let you go and sat on the floor, swallowing the pasta like it was her last meal.

You both watched as they showed the party, all of the players there, people laughing and smiling for pictures. Jack wasn’t interacting with the reporters, and you thought it was weird, even if you knew he low-key hated them.

“…so, yeah, I’m definitely happy we won tonight but we still have to work hard—” Mercer suddenly stopped himself mid-sentence, leaving the woman— Nat— beside him confused. He covered his mouth with his hand and laughed. “Is that Jack fighting someone? That’s sick! Film that, baldy!” He asked the cameraman.

You and Grace stopped talking and stared at each other. The camera suddenly changed angles and showed a body you knew way too well on top of another body you, unfortunately, also knew well.

“Jesus, Jack is punching Harris in the face!” Grace announced, like you weren’t watching it yourself.

The angles weren’t good because you’d bet money the cameraman wasn’t expecting to record a fight tonight, but it was still pretty damn clear that Jack was punching Harris’ face repeatedly, while his girlfriend screamed and cried and the other players tried to get him off Harris’ face.

Harris fought back, but even though he tried, he wasn’t used to fighting. Unlike Jack, who threw every punch with force and precision.

“It seems like our number eighty-six, Jack Hughes, is having a fist fight with the actor Harris Dickinson!”

“Stop trying to state the obvious, bitch, film the fucking fight!” Grace yelled.

“Grace, calm down.” you whispered, watching as the camera focused on Jack again, this time him being dragged by Nico and Nathan while he shouted at them to let him go.

This was bad. Like, bad, truly bad. They focused on Harris’ face for just a second, and it was enough— his face was all bloody and he was probably going to have a black eye for a week, with how swollen his eye was. Jack had most likely broken his nose and shit wasn’t looking good.

“Oh my God, why did he do this!” You got up from the couch, pacing around the room. “Fuck, does he know what this is going to do to him? Harris is dating the Coach’s daughter, what the hell!”

Grace was also too stunned to speak, something that did not happen often. You could tell she was just as distressed as you.

“Harris Dickinson is going to the hospital with his girlfriend Chloe and his father-in-law, Coach Ryan McGill.”

“What the fuck, this is bad,” you put your hands on your head, trying to figure out what to do. “I need to do something.”

Grace sighed, loudly. “I should be the brain in our friendship but… yeah. I mean, I know you guys are out of contact right now but this… he definitely did this for you…”

“Yeah, Grace, make me feel worse, go ahead.” You hissed.

“I’m not trying to make you feel worse, baby, you know why he did that!” She raised her arms. “You should talk to him. This obviously isn’t working for any of you.”

“Grace—”

“No, you will hear me now!” She talked on top of you, also getting up. “I’ve watched you put on a fake smile and pretend you’re fine and I didn’t say anything because I knew you had to figure it out yourself, but I can’t do this anymore. You’re drowning yourself in work, you spend half of your time at your studio and the other half at John’s studio. You don’t go out, you don’t live.”

“Grace.” You tried again.

“And usually I’d say something like: ‘get over that fucking asshole’ or ‘he isn’t worth it’!” She walked back and forth. “But the worst part is that Nico told me Jack is just like you!”

That made you stop. “What?”

“He’s not at parties, he’s not hanging out with the team, he’s not goofing around. All he does is sleep, eat and go to practice. And, fuck, Nico doesn’t know what to do because Jack never acted like this before.”

“Grace, what…” you breathed, almost yanking your hoodie with how much force you were holding it. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s so fucking obvious you both love each other yet you won’t do anything!” She lamented, staring at your eyes. “I can’t watch you fall apart like this. You have to tell him that you want to be with him.”

“Grace, I can’t— I can’t do that.” You stuttered, trying your hardest not to cry.

“Sophia,” she whispered, grabbing your hands. “That man loves you. He just punched your ex-boyfriend on national television, with everyone watching. I stand with what I said back at that dreadful Halloween party, I’ve seen how he looks at you. And he loves you. Jack Hughes loves you, Sophia.”

You let her words sink in, nodding once. Grace was bossy, delusional and a bit insane too but she was right. You needed to do something.

“Okay,” you agreed, holding her against your body. “What do I do?”

“Shit, I didn’t think you’d agree with what I was saying… I don’t know?”

“You’re such a dumbass sometimes,” you laughed and she pinched your butt. “I think… I think I’m going to his house.”

“That’s a bald ass move and so right. Want me to go with you?”

“No, I’m good. I don’t even know if he’ll hear me out but I’ll try?” You stepped back, grabbing your car keys and purse.

“Call me if anything goes wrong,” she blinked, going back to the couch. “If you don’t, I’ll call you and risk interrupting your fuck.”

“Like I’d ever pick up,” you joked, leaving the house.

Jack lived thirty minutes away from you, and alongside with that, it was a Friday night in Newark— of course the streets were filled with cars. It took you an hour to get there but even so, Jack’s car wasn’t parked in front of his garage like it used to.

You turned your car off, and waited. You could wait outside but with how cold it was, it was safer for you to wait inside. You couldn’t risk getting sick.

Seconds turned into minutes and when the one hour mark came, you sighed.

“Maybe he isn’t coming home tonight,” you said to no one, tired of waiting. You knew you could call him, but you weren't entirely sure he’d pick up. “Maybe it’s just traffic.”

You decided to wait a little bit more, half an hour. If Jack wasn’t there by the end of it, you’d just come back tomorrow. Fortunately, shortly after that, Jack’s car was parked outside of his house.

You watched as he got out of it, opened the back door and grabbed his duffel bag. Taking a deep breath, you left your car and closed the door silently.

Walking to his porch with fast steps, you called him. “Jack!”

He stopped immediately, turning around to face you. He had a bandage on his eyebrow and one on his cheek. Your heart tugged on your chest.

“Soph?” He asked, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him.

You stepped closer, smiling awkwardly.

“Hi,” you said, softly, putting your hands inside your pockets. “Can we… hum… talk?”

He stared at you for a second, before nodding and turning around again, opening his door and letting you inside the house first. You thanked him and stepped inside, taking in the sight you missed so much, his home.

You both stayed quiet for a while; he put his things away and you stood there, weirdly. You didn’t know how to start the conversation, so you just stared at him. He looked tired, dark circles adorning his face, hair messy and face a bit swollen. Even if he looked hurt, he looked ten thousand times better than Harris, who was probably in the emergency room at the local hospital.

“Jack,” you started, noticing how his body went stiff and he stopped moving. “Why did you do it?”

You didn’t give him a chance to reply, stepping closer and putting your hand on his face, feeling the hotness of it, and realizing you missed him more than you knew.

“Jesus, Jack, do you even realize what you did?” You whispered, moving your thumb up and down. “He’s dating your coach’s daughter. He’s a powerful man, baby.” The pet name slipped out of your tongue, but you didn’t want to take it back.

“Fuck,” he breathed, grabbing your wrist and kissing it. “Say it again, Soph.”

Maybe someone else would need him to clarify it better, explain further. But not you. Not when the love you felt for him ran deep inside your soul.

“Baby,” you whispered again, watching as he closed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Sophia, fuck, what did you do to me?” His voice sounded so tender, you could feel your body wanting nothing more than to melt inside his arms. “I can’t— Fuck.”

“Jack, you need to understand that what you did, baby, it could cost you a lot—”

“I know. Soph, I know that. And I still would break his asshole’s nose again and again.”

“Why did you do it?”

He stepped away, and you immediately wanted him to come back. “Why did I do it? Isn’t it obvious?” He laughed, humorlessly. “Sophia, I am in love with you. I love you.”

You felt your cheeks getting wet, and only then did you realize you were crying.

“I didn’t understand it sooner because, hell, I have never loved a woman before that wasn’t my mom, and even then, it’s not even close to what I feel towards you,” he ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t think being in a relationship was for me, I didn’t even want it. But now I look at you and—” he looked at you, blue eyes brighter than you’d ever seen. “I look at you and I realize you’re all I want.”

You were fully crying now, the tears running down your face like models on a runway. Your hands were shaking, and you wanted to scream at him.

“You’re it for me, baby,” he stepped closer, gently putting his hands on your waist, letting you rest your head on his chest. “I know that you’re upset, and I know this isn’t easy for you. We all got bags full of shit that we don’t want, but I will unpack them for you, baby. Just… just let me.”

“Jack,” you sniffled, trying to stop crying. “I need you to know that I love you, too. But,” you pressed your lips together, organising your thoughts. “You need to know that sometimes it’s going to be hard for me. I don’t trust so easily anymore and I’m sorry for it but that’s just who I am.”

You could swear you could feel his smile, while he held you tighter. “It’s okay, Soph. When I tell you that I want you, I don’t mean only the good parts. I want you whole. I want the bad, the good and the in-between,”

“What if,” you hold him impossibly closer. “I don’t want you to get tired of me.”

“Tired of you?” He chuckled. “I want to marry you.”

You stepped away from his like he was on fire. Frowning, you raised your finger.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Hughes. Besides that, you’re literally twenty-two.”

“I don’t mind you being my old sugar mommy,” he shrugged, smiling.

“Call me old again, Jack Hughes, and I promise you will never hear from me again.” You smiled too, and for the first time in probably two months, it felt real.

“Yes, ma’am,” he stopped smiling, stepping closer to you again. Holding your wrists to his mouth, he kissed the right first before moving onto the next. After he was done, he placed them on his neck, grabbing your waist.

You stood on your toes, trying to stay face to face with him.

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

You smiled. “I guess you can.”

“You guess?” He bickered back, plastering his white teeth for you. “Can I kiss you, baby?” He whispered, kissing your cheeks. Then your nose, then your forehead. Always gentle and steady. “Soph, sweetheart, can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, you just glued your lips together, moaning because you had missed this so much. His lips felt like the sweetest thing in the world and when he touched your tongue with his, you were sure you had turned into butter and was now melting.

Maybe your forever wasn’t so distant at all.

[tkwrites]

It might be a tad depraved of me. But would you consider writing a blurb or something of Sarah reacting to Quinn shaving his playoff beard? Poor girl wasn't warned that her last time being pleasured and stimulated by it was her last. Huggy bear betta make it up to her 😉 (if you are willing to do a blurb, you don't have to actually include the smut even though you have a gift at writing that girl! I just think it could be a fun little scene of her seeing him clean shaven, maybe even a cute domestic vibe idk, this ask is too long 😂)

Also ohhh not long until you post Nicos next part and I am very excited 😝

Hi my Lovely, inspiration struck for your ask in the middle of the night about a week ago, and I've been finessing it ever since. I hope you enjoy what I came up with!

Photo from Pinterest

Blurb (664 words) below the cut. Allusions to smut, but nothing is described.

“Oh,” Sarah said when Quinn walked out of the bathroom. 

“What?” he asked, a hand going to his cheek. He didn’t think he’d cut himself.

“I just…I didn’t realize you were shaving.” 

“Was I not supposed to?”

A blush rose high on her cheeks. “No,” she said hesitantly, as if she was saying it because it was something he wanted to hear. 

“What?” Quinn asked. He saw right through her acting. The more he got to know Sarah, the more he realized what a terrible liar she was. 

“I just think you look really handsome with a beard,” she said. 

“I thought you didn’t like the facial hair.”

“I don’t like stubble. That hurts, but once it’s grown out, I like it.” 

“I can grow it out again.” 

“I know. I’d just kind of hoped you’d keep it until you moved home.”

“Why?” 

“It feels nice.” 

“It feels nice?” he repeated. “What are you talking about?” 

Sarah sighed, deciding she needed to just come out and say it. She’d talked herself into this corner. “Your beard feels nice…when you go down on me,” she confessed, feeling a flush flair down her neck and onto her chest. 

“It does, does it?”'

Biting her lip, she nodded. 

Moving closer, he slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her body flush to his own. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I didn’t think I would have to. Isn’t it tradition to keep the beard until the final? I thought you’d have it until you went back to Michigan.” 

He winced, reminding himself Sarah just started watching hockey and didn’t know the traditions like most people he knew did. “That’s only if you’re playing in the final,” he explained, “most guys shave once they’re eliminated or after they’ve won.”

“Oh.” Great. Now, after dancing around it for the last 36 hours, she’d brought up the loss. “Shit, Quinn, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

He shook his head, “how would you know?” 

“Still, I’m sorry.”

He needed to change the subject. Brushing his smooth cheek against hers, he brought his mouth close to her ear and asked, “so you don’t think I’ll be as good now that I’ve shaved?” 

“I don’t…” she coughed. “I didn’t say that.” 

“But it’s what you were thinking, right?” His other hand snuck under one of her straps. 

“No.” Her heart was racing with the nearness of him. 

“Do I need to prove you wrong?”

Her voice squeaked, “no?” 

“You don’t sound too sure about that.” 

She made a small noise that sounded like a halted whine.

His mouth drifted to her pulse point, kissing and sucking the tender skin. 

“Quinn,” she breathed. 

“Hmm?” Sarah so rarely got this flustered, Quinn reveled in riling her up like this.

Desire pooled between her legs - hot and heavy. She needed him. Now.

They had to take advantage of the time they had now. His family was finally gone, though his mom would be back soon. He’d be having surgery in two days, then heading home four days after that.

"Prove me wrong.” 

He smiled against her skin and gathered a fistful of her skirt. She was wearing that damned green dress again, and he was finally going to strip it off her. Or maybe he’d push it up and eat her out just like that. 

He liked the mental image of that — of her writhing on the bed, skirt shoved up around her hips, hands tangled in his hair as he buried his face between her thighs. 

Yes, that was exactly what he was going to do. Then he’d strip it off her and make love to her as many times as his body would allow.

“On the bed," he said, nodding toward it.

She backed up until the backs of her thighs hit the mattress, then reached for the hem of her dress. 

“Leave it on,” he said, voice gruff. “I’ll take care of it.”

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

[leaentries]

For the shot game maybe one shot and nico hischier? 💕

anything for you, darling! + translated german, so it may not be completely accurate!

p.s: nico lapdog agenda is real

habe ich dir das jemals gesagt? (have i ever told you that?)

du bist mein lieblingsmensch, baby. (you’re my favorite person in the world, baby.)

shots

-

the movie played softly in the background as you waited for your boyfriend to return home. he had been gone all day, taking a much needed “guy’s day” with some of his fellow swiss. your eyes grew droopy as the warmth of your blanket lulled you to sleep. you tried your best to fight off the temptation, but eventually your eyes fell closed, breath slowing as sleep overtook your mind.

you were awoken by a warm hand smoothing your hair back from your face. peeling open an eye, you were met with a very drunk-looking nico. his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were glazed over. you felt a smile wash over you because even in his drunk state, he still managed to take care of you.

“hello, schatzi!” he giggled, “you look so pretty when you sleep! habe ich dir das jemals gesagt?“

the switch between english and german was a familiarity when nico got drunk. his hazy mind struggling to keep up with the different languages. it was endearing the way he’d talk to you in german, yet not realize he’s doing it. you reached a hand out to cradle his reddened cheek, the skin warm to the touch. his slight stubbles scratched against your palm as he nuzzled against you.

you cooed at him, “do you feel okay, neeks?”

he nodded, half-lidded eyes meeting yours, “never better schatzi. i’m always okay when i’m with you. du bist mein lieblingsmensch, baby”

you chuckled to yourself, “oh, sweetheart! you’re so drunk, aren’t you?”

nico didn’t respond, simply just attempting to crawl on to the couch with you. only, drunk-nico doesn’t understand how large he is and that the part of the couch you were laying on, was not made for two people. you huffed as he maneuvered his way behind you, limbs flying all over the place and knees knocking together. you even had to brace yourself to keep from falling off of the couch all together.

“nico…baby-” you tried to explain, but he wasn’t having any of your protests. it reminded you of a large dog that thinks its a lap dog, but doesn’t truly comprehend how big it is. eventually, you managed to find a tolerable position, nico making sure to wrap every part of his body he could around you.

“comfortable?” you mumbled, face smushed into his chest.

a content “mhm,” left his lips, burying his face into the top of your head. you just rolled your eyes, a loving smile growing on your face. you could never truly be annoyed with him.

[astonmartingf]

YOU'VE BEEN ON MY MIND—

— co-parenting with alonso has been smooth sailing, until he starts dropping hints that he wants to be with you again

P7 ★ WHEN IN DOUBT, BLAME ALPINE

amgf ahhh it's sad, but we're getting there, because all things must come to an end. honestly i had a hard time writing this because how do i end things and let go of them? it's a struggle really but we work with it. like always, enjoy this chapter 👍

previous ★ masterlist ★ next

You stand still, silence surrounding the kitchen. There were no more words left to say, as they all left your mouth in utter silence. You watch Ales' from the baby monitor set on the kitchen island, sleeping in peace— content, calm, without a worry of the world.

You'd do everything for your son, you'd do anything for this family, and what Alonso did— you couldn't let it pass by you.

The familiar squeak of the front door hinges swept you off your own thoughts. Staring at the tiled walls in the kitchen, you rely on your senses anticipating Fernando as his shadows inch closer to yours.

"Hey."

Jerking from the warm touch of his palms against your cold shoulder. You stand still, Fernando presses his weight on your back, pulling you in an embrace, leaving soft kisses from your neck trailing down to your shoulders. You sigh in content, hoping and praying to forget as you blissfully ignore the slowly building concerns looming over your head.

"Amor, how was your day?"

You look over the ceiling, biting your lip to alleviate the anger filling up your thoughts. Tongue in cheek, you gather up some form of courage to calmly get through the upcoming conversation without shouting or bursting into tears. You give him the benefit of the doubt though, maybe they were just run of the mill rumors to form clicks for views.

"Have you seen my messages?" You gulp down your sighs, surprised at the shaky tone of your own voice. You wanted more than to be out of this conversation, as the constant feeling bubbling inside you loomed heavier and heavier, waiting in anticipation at the culmination of your emotions, at your poor attempts at keeping them at bay.

"I haven't yet, why? Did you want me to buy something for Ales?" You turn around stopping him from reading your message, wanting to avoid the conversation for a later time, choosing to drown in the burden of your own thoughts.

Fernando was a beat earlier than you— you panic as the smile in his eyes fell at a glance of your message.

"You knew?" Your brows furrowed, fully taking in his words, "I knew? Is it true? Are you racing again?"

Fernando's eyes looked over yours, "Isn't this exciting? I never thought I would have a chance to race again, but they offered and I accepted it."

You stumble backwards, at a loss for words. And slowly, the thoughts clouding in your head were becoming a reality.

Fernando catches your silence and reluctance to the news, pulling away from you, his hands cup the apples of your cheeks leaving you no choice to look at him.

"Are you not happy? This is good isn't it?"

You stare at his eyes, shining in excitement at the thought of racing once more. The idea never even entered your head, you never thought that Fernando would want to get back to racing.

You gulp the bile forming to jump out your throat, nodding your head— not trusting your own words. "Yeah. It's good to be back Fer."

yourusername 11/21/2021

liked by nicorosberg and 21 others

yourusername beach day with uncle nico is a must in monaco

"YN talk to me, why can't we be together? You think I'll just accept this? Explain to me please, tell me where I did you wrong. What did I do? Is this about racing? Again?" Fernando runs to catch you in your shared bedroom, trying to keep up with the pace you set, sliding inside before you ought to close the door on him.

You turn around, mouth hanging wide, "Again? Is that all you think about? Racing? What about our family? You didn't even tell me about your choice, what was I supposed to say to you? You already made the decision for yourself!"

Fernando scoffs at your words, "You should've said you didn't like it! Why are you blaming me for your lack of communication?"

"You're one to talk about communication, you didn't bother telling me, I was blindsided Fer! One second I thought we'd live like a normal family and the next you're back racing every other week and you're leaving us behind!" You throw your hands in frustration and confusion as you try to get your point across to him.

Fernando put his palms up his face, at a loss for words. "Why are you getting ahead of yourself? Are you even listening to what you said? You're my wife for God's sake, we have a son together why would I leave you? It'll just be like before, I will come back to you two."

Fernando rubs your shoulders in an attempt to comfort you, in the hopes you'd understand his concerns.

"You say that, but we've been there already Fer. I single handedly witnessed everything that has happened to you while racing, and with Ales— I don't think I can... I don't think I want to constantly be on the edge of my seat worrying for tomorrow, and what will happen to you on the track."

With the tension up, words were spouted left and right, with no time to think before speaking, the arguments echoed back and forth to each other.

"Oh so you're giving up on us now?"

You scoff at Fernando's words, "Giving up? You did that first when you chose the racing contract over this family!"

Raising his hands, Fernando shouts in anger, "I just wanted to race, is it bad to pursue my passion? I support you in your career, can't I have that as well? It is my choice! At least we didn't get married yet if we're going to be like this then?"

You stand in silence, tears pooling at your eyes, feeling your world stop. In front of you, you watch Fernando shake his head at the realization of his words. "Amor—"

You step away from him, your shaky breaths fill the room clutching your chest, suffocating at your misery. Trying to drown out Fernando's pleas, erasing his words from your head, despite it being etched into every crevice in your head, taking home in your hollow heart.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that— no amount of words can ever make it better. Please say something? Tell me you hate me? Please amor, resent me. Whatever you want I will do."

You watch Fernando wince at your bloodshot eyes, as he reluctantly inches closer to you, afraid you'd leave him, like a glass slowly falling out of his hands. It was far too late now.

You let him in your embrace, knowing very well it would be the last time you'd see him, choosing yourself this time— choosing your son over the family you built together. You let yourself wallow in the last moments of comfort in his arms, because after this it'll just be you.

"Whatever? Then I guess I'm taking Alejandro with me. We're leaving so you can focus on your race. I hope you know that even then and now, I will be waiting. As much as it hurts— this needs to be done. I love you Alonso."

Pushing him away from your embrace, you savor in a last kiss before leaving him alone in the room.

yourusername 6/29/2022

liked by lancestroll and 33 others

yourusername happiest birthday to the light of my life ales. mama and papa love you always, i hope to fill your life with love and laughter.

★ YOU'VE BEEN ON MY MIND — @namgification @nebarious @minkyungseokie @viennakarma @lxclerc @booksandflowrs @c-losur3 @lichterfee @moonyzsworld @e-nonsense @vicurious28 @dannyriccsupremacy @thearchieves @welovediaaxx @vogueprincess @mael1pastry @khaylin27 @whydowesleepeachnight @iridescent-sol

[blakeswritingimagines]

I'm So Glad You're Finally Mine

Summary: Meeting your idol at a bar and getting his personal attention.

Warnings: Heavy petting, Public sex. mention of drinking but nobody is drunk, Fingering, Nipple play if you squint and tilt your head, No protection,

Word Count: 4.1k

You had walked into a bar one night when you spotted a few hockey players sitting in a booth nearby. Your stomach fluttered as you recognized one of them as Nico, the player you had always admired from afar even before your brothers joined the Devils. Nico was one of the most talented players in the league, and he was just as gorgeous in person as he was on the ice. You took a few deep breaths to steady yourself before walking over to the booth. As you approached, Nico looked up and your eyes met. Nico's gaze lingered on you for a moment, taking in your beauty and confidence. He gave you a warm smile, showing off his cute smile. "Hey there, can I help you?" His voice was deep and smooth, sending shivers down your spine. He gestured to the empty seat across from him, inviting you to sit down.

You returned Nico's smile, feeling your heart rate increase at his smooth, deep voice. "Sure," you replied, hoping your voice didn't betray your nerves as you took a seat across from him. The other hockey players around the table glanced at you curiously, but Nico's attention remained fixed on you. Nico leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. "So, what brings you here tonight? Looking for some company or just enjoying a drink?" He asked, his tone friendly and non-threatening. His teammates seemed to relax now that Nico was engaging with you, and they went back to their own conversations. Nico's gaze flickered briefly to the others before returning to you, his interest clearly piqued. You glanced at the other players, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement as they returned their focus to their own conversations. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "I was just out for a drink," you replied, your voice coming out a little shakier than you intended knowing your brothers would kill you. "I didn't expect to run into you and your teammates here."

Nico chuckled softly, noticing the way your cheeks flushed slightly under his gaze. "Well, it's not every day I meet such a beautiful woman in a place like this." He said, leaning in closer to you. His dark brown eyes held an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "Would you like another drink? Or maybe we could get out of here and find somewhere more private to talk?" You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest at his forwardness, his deep brown eyes holding your gaze. "Another drink sounds nice," you replied, trying to keep your voice casual. "And maybe we could talk a bit more before we think about leaving?" Nico nodded, signaling the bartender for another round. "Of course, take your time. I'm happy to chat with you as long as you'd like." He kept his eyes locked onto yours, a small smirk playing on his lips. Once the drinks arrived, he raised his glass in a silent toast before taking a sip. "So tell me, what do you think of our team so far this season?" He asked, genuinely curious about your opinion.

You took a sip of your own drink, the alcohol sending a warm buzz through your body that helped to steady your nerves. "Your team is doing really well," you replied, genuine admiration in your voice. "You guys have a lot of talent and you work well together on the ice. You've definitely been a pleasure to watch." Nico beamed with pride at your compliment, his chest puffing out slightly. "Thanks, that means a lot coming from a fan. We've put in a lot of hard work and it's great to see it paying off." He took another sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours. "Speaking of fans… I have to ask, how did you become interested in hockey? And more specifically, in me and my team?" He asked, curiosity etched on his face. You blushed at his question, feeling a little embarrassed to admit that you had been a fan of him for a long time. "Well," you began, trying to find the words. "I've always been into hockey, ever since my brothers started playing. And I became a fan of your team a few years ago because of how talented you all are. As for you, well…" You paused, looking away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "Let's just say I've been admiring your skill on the ice for a long time."

Nico listened intently, his expression softening as he heard your confession. "That's quite a compliment," he said sincerely. "It's flattering to know someone appreciates the hard work we put into each game." He reached out, placing his hand gently on top of yours where it rested on the table. "But I have to ask, why admire from afar? What stopped you from approaching me sooner?" You felt a jolt of electricity at the feel of his warm hand on yours, your breath catching in your throat. "I guess I was just being shy," you confessed, feeling a bit foolish for not having spoken to him sooner. "And I didn't want to come across as just another fan with a crush." Nico squeezed your hand gently, offering comfort and understanding. "There's nothing wrong with having a crush," he assured you. "In fact, it's pretty normal for people to look up to athletes they admire." He released your hand slowly, only to move his arm along the back of your chair in a show of casual intimacy. "But now that we're talking, I can't help but wonder what else you admire about me besides my skills on the ice."

You felt your heart skip a beat as Nico's arm wrapped around your chair, bringing him fractionally closer to you. You tried to control your trembling voice as you replied, "Well, aside from your talent, I have to admit your good looks haven't gone unnoticed either." Nico chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Is that so?" He teased, leaning in even closer. "I must admit, I don't often hear compliments like that from my fans." He studied your face closely, as though committing every detail to memory. "What else do you admire about me then? My charm? My sense of humor?" You felt yourself get flustered under his intense gaze, your heart fluttering in your chest. "Well, you definitely have those in spades," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "But I think what I admire most is the way you carry yourself on and off the ice. You always seem so sure of yourself and confident, yet you never come across as arrogant or cocky." Nico nodded thoughtfully, appreciating your insight. "Thank you," he said simply, his voice low and sincere. "It's important to me to maintain a balance between confidence and humility." He moved even closer, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, "But enough about me. Tell me something, what kind of man interests you outside of the world of sports and celebrities?"

Your breath hitched in your throat as Nico's warm breath tickled your ear, your heart rate increasing at his proximity. You swallowed hard, trying to focus through the haze of attraction that was clouding your thoughts. "Well," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "outside of sports and celebrities, I guess I'm attracted to men who are honest and genuine. Someone who isn't afraid to be themselves and isn't trying to impress me with flashy things or grand gestures." Nico pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you once more, his expression serious but filled with intrigue. "That's refreshing to hear," he admitted. "Too many women are drawn to the superficial aspects of fame and fortune." He shifted in his seat, bringing himself fully upright and facing you directly. "And honestly, there's nothing I value more than honesty and authenticity in relationships." You found yourself hanging onto his every word, captivated by his openness and sincerity. His words mirrored your own feelings about authenticity and honesty, and it made you feel strangely at ease even though you were still a bit nervous in his presence. "I couldn't agree more," you agreed, meeting his gaze steadily. "It's important to me to have a relationship built on trust and genuine connection, not just fleeting infatuation or surface-level attraction."

Nico's smile widened, revealing a dimple in his left cheek. "Then perhaps we could explore that further," he suggested, his tone playful but also inviting. "Tell me, would you be open to getting to know me better, beyond just the athlete persona everyone sees on TV?" Your heart skipped a beat at his suggestion, excitement, and nervousness warring within you. "I would like that," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It would be nice to get to know the real you, beyond the glare of the spotlight and the rink." Nico's smile grew even wider, his eyes sparkling with interest and anticipation. "Good," he said, reaching over to take your hand once more. "Because I'd like to get to know you too. It seems we have a lot in common already, which is always a promising start."

You felt an electric jolt run through your body at the feel of his warm hand gripping yours, your heart racing with excitement. "I think we do," you agreed, your voice softer now that you were starting to relax into the conversation. "I mean, hockey and honest relationships are two pretty important things to have in common, right?" Nico laughed softly, the sound rich and warm. "Absolutely," he agreed. "Those are two very important things indeed." He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before reluctantly releasing it, leaning back in his chair as if settling in for a longer conversation. "So tell me more about yourself. What makes you tick? What are your passions and dreams?" His gaze remained locked with yours, showing genuine curiosity and engagement. You couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious under his intense gaze, but you relaxed when you saw the genuine interest in his eyes. "Well," you began, thinking for a moment about how to describe yourself, "I guess I'm pretty passionate about music. I love all kinds of music, but particularly rock and pop." You hesitated for a moment before continuing, not wanting to seem like a typical fangirl. "And I've always dreamed of being a writer, but I never thought I was good enough to actually pursue it as a career."

Nico listened attentively, nodding encouragingly as you spoke. "Music and writing are both incredible forms of creative expression," he remarked approvingly. "It takes a lot of courage to put your heart out there like that, whether it's through song lyrics or storytelling." He leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees as he fixed you with an earnest look. "Don't sell yourself short. If writing is truly your passion, then you owe it to yourself to chase that dream, no matter how daunting it may seem." His words were full of conviction and support, making you feel seen and understood in a way few people ever had. "Besides, I bet you have a unique perspective and voice that the world needs to hear." Your heart swelled with an unfamiliar emotion as you listened to Nico's encouraging words, feeling strangely understood and valued in a way you hadn't expected. Your own self-doubts and insecurities seemed to subside as you absorbed his conviction and support. "Thank you," you said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I don't know why, but hearing you say that… it makes me feel like maybe I can actually do it, you know?"

Nico smiled warmly, clearly pleased to have offered some encouragement and hope. "Of course, you can do it," he insisted, his tone firm yet gentle. "If anything, your doubt only serves to prove that you're the type of person who doesn't take success for granted. That's a rare and admirable quality." He paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully. "And besides, life is too short to let fear hold us back from pursuing our dreams." You felt a warm sense of gratitude welling up inside you at his supportive words. No one had ever believed in your dreams as much as he seemed to in this moment. "You're right," you agreed, feeling a new determination stirring within you. "Life is too short, and I don't want to look back on mine with regrets. I want to try and make my dreams come true."

"Exactly," Nico said, his voice filled with enthusiasm and admiration. "The only thing standing between you and your dreams is yourself, really." He looked at you intently, his eyes reflecting a depth of understanding and empathy that touched something deep within you. "And I believe in you, so don't forget that." You felt a lump form in your throat at his fervent words, your breath catching at the intensity in his eyes. Nobody had ever expressed such unshakable faith in you before, and it filled you with a sense of purpose and hope. "Thank you, Nico," you managed to say past the lump in your throat, feeling a surge of emotion welling up in your chest. "I… I don't know what to say. I didn't expect this when I walked into this bar tonight." Nico reached across the table, taking your hand in his once more. The warmth of his touch sent another jolt through you, but this time it was different. It wasn't just physical; it was emotional, too. "I'm glad we met tonight," he said sincerely. "I think there's something special here, and I don't want to let it go."

Your heart rate quickened as you felt the roughness of his calloused hand against yours, the intense look in his eyes making you feel both vulnerable and protected. "Me neither," you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I feel like… like there could be something really special between us." Nico's thumb brushed gently over the back of your hand, sending shivers down your spine. "I think you might be right," he murmured, his voice low and husky with emotion. He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours. "And I want to explore that, to see where it leads us." You felt your breath quicken as Nico leaned closer, his face so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. Your heart was racing, your body thrumming with anticipation. "I want that too," you breathed, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

With a soft groan, Nico closed the remaining distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both tender and hungry. His hands slid up your arms to cup your face, holding you close as he explored the depths of your mouth with his tongue. The taste of him, the feel of his strong body pressed against yours, was intoxicating, making you ache for more. As the kiss deepened, Nico pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around you tightly. You could feel his hardness pressing against you, a potent reminder of the desire that burned between you. Breaking the kiss, Nico gazed into your eyes, his own dark with lust and emotion. "I need you," he whispered urgently, his hands roaming over your curves. "Let me show you how much." You gasped softly as Nico pulled you onto his lap, the hard length of his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh. The heat of his touch seared through your clothes, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume everything in its path.

"Yes," you moaned, arching into his caresses as his hands roamed over your body. "Please, show me." In a haze of desire, you tangled your fingers in Nico's hair, pulling him back into a fierce, needy kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, stroking and teasing until you were panting and aching for more. Breaking apart, you nipped at his lower lip before trailing hot kisses along his jawline and down the column of his neck. "Touch me," you begged, grinding your hips against his erection. "Make me feel every inch of you." With a growl of approval, Nico obliged, his hands sliding beneath your shirt to grasp at your flesh. His thumbs grazed over your nipples, coaxing them into hard peaks that ached for more attention. "Like this?" he murmured against your skin, nibbling at the sensitive spot below your ear. The sensation of his teeth and tongue combined with the pressure of his hands was driving you wild, your body responding eagerly to his touch. You could hardly breathe, your senses overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne, the taste of his lips, the feel of his muscular body under your fingertips. "Tell me what else you want," he urged, his voice thick with desire. "I want to please you, to make you scream my name."

With his strong arms wrapped firmly around you, Nico rose smoothly to his feet, carrying you effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. His pace was determined, his steps sure as if he'd done this countless times before. The world seemed to blur around you, the loud music and laughter of the bar fading away until all you could focus on was the solid warmth of Nico's body against yours. He guided you towards the restrooms, his grip on you unyielding as he held you up against the stall door. The bathroom was dimly lit, the door closed to provide privacy, the air heavy with expectation and unspoken promises. His expression was a mix of raw hunger and tenderness. "This is better," he murmured, closing the gap between you again to claim your lips in a searing kiss. The coolness of the stall door pressed against your back, a stark contrast to the scorching heat of Nico's body as he pinned you there with his hips. You could feel every hard plane and angle of him, his strength coiled and ready to unleash upon you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you drew him even closer, desperate to feel him everywhere.

"Better," you echoed breathlessly against his lips, your fingers digging into his shoulders. "Now shut up and fuck me already." The crude demand fell from your lips before you could stop it, fueled by the sheer desperation coursing through your veins. You needed him inside you, stretching you, filling you, claiming you completely. Anything less would not suffice. Not now. Not after tasting paradise in his arms. A low growl rumbled in Nico's chest at your bold command, his dark eyes flashing with primal desire. "As you wish," he muttered, reaching down to roughly yank open your jeans. His hands were shaking slightly, the anticipation getting the best of him. But he refused to rush this, refused to give you anything less than his very best. He wanted to remember this moment, the first time he took you, for the rest of his life. You gasped as Nico's fingers found their way past your underwear, his calloused digits brushing against your slick folds. "Oh god," you whimpered, your head falling back against the cold metal of the stall door.

The contrast between the chill and the heat of Nico's hand was almost too much to bear. "Please," you begged, rocking your hips forward in desperate need. "I can't wait anymore." With a swift motion, Nico tore your panties aside, exposing you fully to his greedy gaze. He didn't waste a second, plunging two fingers deep inside you without a preamble. A strangled cry escaped your lips as he began to pump, his strokes fast and relentless. "That's it," he panted, his eyes locked on yours. "Take it. You're mine now." The sight of you spread open and pleading for him was enough to send Nico over the edge. He added another finger, curling them to stroke that sweet spot inside you that had your whole body quivering. "So tight," he groaned, watching your breasts bounce with each thrust of his hand. He leaned forward, taking a nipple between his lips, sucking hard while his fingers worked you mercilessly. "Come for me," he demanded, biting down lightly on your sensitive bud. "Show me just how much you want it."

The dual assault on your clit and nipple sent you spiraling into oblivion, your entire being focused solely on the pleasure coursing through your veins. Your walls clenched around Nico's fingers, milking them for more as waves of orgasm crashed over you. "Fuck!" you screamed, your voice echoing off the tiled walls. "Nico! I'm cumming!" Your climax hit like a freight train, ripping through you with such force that you saw stars behind your eyelids. Your body convulsed in his hold, your inner walls fluttering and gripping desperately at his fingers. The feeling of your pussy clenching around his fingers was nearly enough to undo Nico right then and there. But he wasn't finished with you yet. He kept pumping, drawing out every last tremor of your orgasm before slowly withdrawing his fingers. Standing upright, he pulled down his own pants, freeing his throbbing cock from its confines. It sprang free, standing proudly at attention, eager to be buried deep inside you. "Ready for this?" he asked, positioning himself at your entrance. Without waiting for an answer, he pushed inside, breaching your still-quivering walls with one powerful thrust.

The sensation of Nico pushing inside you was overwhelming, the fullness stretching you in ways you hadn't thought possible. "Yes," you moaned, arching your back to meet him halfway. Your inner walls clenched around him, trying to adjust to his size. "God yes, don't stop." Each word was punctuated by a gasp of pleasure as Nico set a brutal pace, pounding into you with no mercy. Every thrust drove him deeper, filling you completely until you felt like you were bursting at the seams. You could feel yourself tightening around him again, another orgasm building quickly on the heels of the first. Nico gripped your hips tightly, holding you steady as he drove into you with wild abandon. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small space, mingling with your cries of ecstasy. He could feel your walls starting to flutter around him once more, signaling your impending release. "That's it," he grunted, his own climax rapidly approaching. "Cum for me again. Milk my cock dry." With a final, deep thrust, Nico buried himself to the hilt inside you. His cock pulsed, spilling hot jets of semen directly against your cervix as he rode out his orgasm. The intensity of it stole his breath, leaving him panting heavily against your neck.

The feeling of Nico's warm seed flooding your womb sent you careening over the edge once more. Your climax ripped through you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with such force that you saw stars behind your closed lids. Your body shook violently, your inner walls clamping down on Nico's cock in a vice-like grip. "Nico!" you cried out, your voice hoarse from screaming his name. Your orgasm seemed to go on forever, lasting longer and stronger than anything you'd ever experienced before. The sensation of your pussy squeezing him so tightly was almost enough to make Nico see stars. He rode out your orgasm, prolonging the pleasure by grinding his hips against yours, ensuring every last drop of his cum coated your insides. As the aftershocks subsided, he gradually slowed his movements, finally pulling out of you with a reluctant groan. He collapsed against you, both of you drenched in sweat and panting heavily. "Holy shit," he breathed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "You okay?"

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just…wow." You couldn't believe what had just happened. The intensity of your orgasms, the sheer size of Nico's cock, the way he'd dominated you in that stall…it was all too much to process. But as you stood there, wrapped in Nico's strong arms, you knew one thing for certain - you never wanted this night to end. "Can we do that again?" you asked, looking up at him with hooded eyes. "Somewhere a little more comfortable this time?" Nico chuckled, nuzzling your neck affectionately. "As many times as you want, sweetheart," he promised, his voice low and husky with lingering desire. "But first, let's get cleaned up and find somewhere a bit more private, yeah?" He helped guide you out of the stall, making sure you were steady on your feet before leading you towards the sinks. Once washed and dried, he took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "My place isn't far," he said, giving your hand a squeeze. "We can grab a drink, relax a bit, and then…" He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air between you. "Lead the way, Captain," you teased, playfully tugging him along.

[thatsdemko]

who’s the worst of them all? someone tell Santa Claus! - f1 grid

part two | masterlist

warning: not intended for minors + some jokes + fluff/filler part

a/n: hi hi it’s me… I’ve had this written since early November and I’m excited to share!! enjoy!!

DEAR Y/N,

have you been a good girl this year? I heard you’re looking for your stocking stuffed, I think I have just the gift. meet me at midnight for your gift!

Xx

secret Santa

you can’t read this out loud, and most definitely not to the public who will view this video later. whoever was your secret Santa, must’ve heard the rumors of your dry spell. and how pitiful was if that it wasn’t even a rumor, it was the truth.

“oh it’s just a sweet handwritten note.” you chuckle quickly flashing the note to the camera before shoving it back inside the off white envelope.

the presenter presses for more information. she asks what the letter contains and who you think it’s from, and in all honesty, it could be coming from anyone.

all the boys handwriting was not legible. it was like getting a doctors script, it could mean anything, but it was clear this individual took their time to make it perfect.

“I’ll have to find out at the Christmas dinner tonight.” you flash a wink in hopes to cover the beet red look against your cheeks.

“well have fun!”

fun… this was about to be nowhere near fun when it came down to narrowing twenty something guys to be your secret Santa.

—

starting off with Pierre. in his bachelor days, he would’ve sent you something like this, but it was always harmless jokes and he would never take it this far. with kika around his arm, you could cross him off the list of embarrassing yourself in front of.

then there’s his best friend, Charles. he always had a wobbly relationship with women, and seeing he’s alone tonight you cross the room heading his way, “you don’t happen to be my secret Santa?” your hands delicately press against his shoulders, he turns around rather quickly at your touch instantly shaking his head, “no, no, I got Pierre this year. you still don’t know yours?”

shaking your head in response, you eye the room from where you stand. the bar had begun to fill with drivers and team members rather quickly. the air was colder now, but the heat from inside was welcoming to those dressed in bare minimum, like yourself. Charles hand against your lower back was like a radiator, the heat spread through your system faster than the log fire going on, “I’m sure you’ll find him.” Charles promises, “but for now, can I get you a drink?”

“please.”

—

the nights gone smoothly and so far you can cross off valterri, Logan, Kevin, and Nico. you’re questioning yuki, Daniel, Lewis, and lando due to their abilities to dodge the questions.

George outright told you it wasn’t him after hearing you’d spun yourself in circles to find anyone new to question. Logan had confessed to having brought up the idea, but refused to give any further information.

and then there was Carlos.

the man who’d been under your nose this whole evening. with his bow tie crooked, and the clock ticking closer to midnight, you meander your way over to where he stands.

“I’m not who you’re looking for, hermosa.”

“and who am I looking for exactly?”

his eyes flicker from the clock, the television highlighting the Real Madrid game, and back over to you, “I’d never send such a cryptic message.” he maneuvers his body to face yours, “I know how to ask for what I want.”

“and what is it that you want?” you press your body closer in to the smooth wood bar top. your mind is spinning, your heart is hammering it’s way out of your chest, and Carlos is inching closer.

“for you to leave me alone.”

“you’re no fun, sainz.” you pout your bottom lip out and spin on your heels to find your body pressed into lando’s.

“you find him yet?” landos cheeky grin makes him look like a Cheshire Cat. ever since he read the note he’d been eager to place the pin on the man and root for your dry spell to end.

for now, it’s ten minutes to midnight and the place was emptying. the alcohol buzzed around the room and the chatter begun to die, it’s ironic how it was a little bit like your heart: buzzing to find the guy, but ready to die at the sight of him.

“I’m sure it’s all just a prank and I’ll have Logan to blame for it.”

“miss,” the bartenders tap against your shoulder makes you spin away from landos chest, “this is for you.”

DEAR Y/N,

giving up? never thought of you as a quitter.

xx

yours

grinding your teeth together you press the napkin into your palm until the ink smudges. you’re no quitter, but if the man with no balls doesn’t show up soon, you’ll leave here ready to slam your car into someone else’s.

“I’m going to head out, you’ll be okay to walk out alone?”

lando’s worries snap your thoughts from the napkin that’s disintegrating into your hands. his touch is soft against your bare shoulder, making your body two degrees warmer than the room, “I’ll be fine, you go home and have a good Christmas.”

“you too, and if you don’t find him—“

“yes, I know, you’ll key his car.”

rolling your eyes, you playfully shove the Brit off into the cold, leaving you and the cleaning crew in silence.

you never noticed how trashed the bar was. in its glory days, you can tell the red thick carpet and white trim around the bar gave the place a holiday feel. and by the old pictures scattered around the walls, the formula one boys had a riot in this place. people from Michael Schumacher all the way down to young Fernando Alonso, the place seemed to always be the home of f1.

looking down at the disintegrated napkin in your hand, and quickly looking up at the clock, midnight had just struck. if he wasn’t here by 12:01 you were a goner. you hated people who wasted your time, you’d much rather be at home or maybe in lando’s warm McLaren buzzing from the alcohol and the warm leather seats.

turning on your heel, he’d just arrived. he’s shaking the snow off his bulky black jacket, shimmering out of the sleeves. a man comes and retrieves it from his grasp, and in typical fashion, he thanks him.

“you thought I wouldn’t come?”

“I hate when people are late.”

“good thing I’m not late then,” he says with a soft smile approaching where you stand at the bar, with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. he leans forward, inching his mouth over your ear, “I’m right on time.”

a/n: take your guesses on who you think it is!! the big reveal happens Christmas Day!

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz z @jaehyunluvcult @iloveyou3000morgan @lunnnix @leclerc13 @goldenalbon

[mikkomacko]

could we get a blurb where one of the boys are sick and reader takes care of them? then maybe mob boss nico comes home to reader babying the sick boy and is so endeared by the interaction that he envisions what it would be like to raise a family with reader.

“Jack is sick today,” is all Luke said when he texted Nico this morning. The younger Hughes brother showed up for his shift of restocking the bar supply room for the day and then left for his turn patrolling the streets.

Nico assumed it meant Jack was at home, probably just sleeping and ordering soup and crackers to the loft. Maybe he’d see him in the morning.

But when he decided to call the day early and strolled into his house, he was stopped by the sight of an extra body lying on his couch.

“Easy day?” Timo asks him, emerging from the kitchen with a banana in hand. Nico looks at him, then back at the living room.

“Tired, wanted to come home.” He explains, nodding in confusion to the only thing visible: the pair of feet hanging over the arm rest. “Who’s that?”

He snorts. “Who do ya think?”

Moving closer into the living room, your figure comes into view. Perched on the edge of the couch, you’re looking down at whoever is lying before you with warm and comforting eyes, eyebrows pulled in concern.

Nico isn’t surprised when he gets to the edge of the couch and finds Jack wrapped in a thick blanket, hair sprawled out on the memory foam pillow from one of the guest rooms.

“Hey Schoa,” You’re stroking through Jack’s hair, fingers tender and slow as you greet him. “You’re home early.”

He hums, looking around at the tissue box and vapo-rub on the the coffee table, the red Gatorade on the floor where Jack can reach it, a humidifier bubbling in the corner, and Happy Gilmore on the tv.

“Playing doctor?” He teases, only half joking. You look up at him, fingers pausing and that concerned look you wore earlier softens.

“Pretty good at it, don’t ya think?”

Nico laughs quietly, but agrees. Smiling proudly, you peer back down at Jack, smoothing your thumb over the dark bags under his sleeping eyes and then placing the back of your hand to his forehead.

“How’s he doing?” Nico asks when you frown in disappointment.

You shrug. “Ok, he’s got a fever still but at least he’s not throwing up and crying anymore.”

Nico makes a face. “How’d that work out for you?”

You glance at him, an unamused look on your face as you do so. “Had to get over my fear of vomit eventually right?”

Accepting the answer, Nico watches you for a moment. The gentle way you touch Jack’s face and move his hair, how sweet your gaze is as you examine the sleeping boy as if looking for anything physically wrong with him.

Motherly, he realizes. You look so motherly and protective watching over him like that, and it makes something in Nico’s heart throb.

You had told him you don’t know if you’ll ever want kids, that it’s something you haven’t put a lot of thought into. And he’s fine with that because he hasn’t either.

But if you ever decide it’s something you want, Nico will give it to you a hundred times over. And those kids will be the luckiest little ones in the world to have a mother like you.

“Hey,” he says softly, and you look over at him. “C’mere.” You take the hand he holds out to you, moving around the edge of the couch and into his arms.

Nico lowers his head, capturing your lips in a sweet and soft kiss. Your hands find the back of his neck, holding him gently.

“What was that for?” You whisper when he pecks kisses to your cheeks and nose.

“I don’t need a reason to kiss you.” Nico replies, not knowing how to explain to you that he thinks you look so good in the role of a mother. The last thing he wants is to freak you out.

“No you don’t,” you giggle, playing with his hair.

Pleased, he nips playfully at your lips again.

“Come take a shower with me?”

You purse your lips like you’re thinking about it, outweighing the pros and cons, and he rolls his eyes in annoyance. Tugging on his hair, you grin.

“Let me wake Jack up for another dose of medicine and I’ll meet you up there, ok?”

Nico wants to complain, wants to whine that Timo can do it and just come up with him now please but he doesn’t. You seem to enjoy fawning over Jack, to be taking care of him and he knows the kid can use some of that.

He’s a far way from his own mother and from what Luke has told everyone, Jack is one hell of a mama’s boy.

So he agrees instead, letting you go so you can crouch back down by the couch and he heads for the stairs.

“Jack,” he hears you coo, and he pauses on the bottom step to listen to you. “Need you to get up for a sec, darling.”

That part in his heart throbs again, sending butterflies throughout his stomach and warmth to his cheeks. Continuing up the stairs, Nico tries to imagine what sweet pet names you’d use for your own babies on day.