♡ omg hii!! im dani a writer and procrastinator!!! i like talking about hockey, f1, and soccer but you might catch me talking about other stuff along the wayyyy. I love you and hope you enjoy your stay <3
♡ about me ! ♡ a guide ! ♡ masterlist ! ♡ my au's !
i hope everyone enjoyed that little birthday countdown, i planned it so i could get back into writing!! so sorry for being gone for so so long, i plan to stay now, and i have some things planned <3
i hope everyone enjoyed that little birthday countdown, i planned it so i could get back into writing!! so sorry for being gone for so so long, i plan to stay now, and i have some things planned <3
summary - Quinn calls the reader from his hotel bed on a long road trip, hair a mess, blinking sleepily.
dani's thoughts - QUINN QUINN QUINN happy birthday to me!!! but sadly this is the last day of my fics :((
warnings - sad quinn
word count - 345
read the rest of my birthday countdown fics : here !
You’re brushing your teeth when your phone buzzes on the bathroom counter, screen lighting up with "q bear ❤" calling.
You smile and immediately answer. The screen fills with a dimly lit hotel room and the most tired-looking hockey player you’ve ever seen.
Hair askew. Cheeks pink with post-game showers. A side of his face deep in the hotel pillow. He blinks at you like he's trying to stay awake with sheer force of will.
"Hi," he growls, voice weighed down by sleep.
"Hi, baby," you whisper around your toothbrush. "Didn't think I'd hear from you. Thought you'd be out cold by now."
He opens his mouth in a huge, lazy yawn.
"Tried. Can't sleep."
You spit in the sink and smile.
"Let me guess. Because you didn't get your daily hearing-my-voice fix?"
He shrugs, eyelids weighted.
"Not a fix. It's. like. medicine. You're sleep-medicine."
You laugh softly, getting up and placing the phone against your pillow. Quinn squirms uncomfortably, trying to get the angle right, now all curled up in his hotel bed like a sleepy golden retriever.
"You're a dork," you mutter, tucking beneath your blankets.
"I miss you," he replies immediately, eyes closing. "S'cold in here. My feet are cold. You warm my feet better than socks."
You arch an eyebrow.
"Quinn. are you sleep-talking?"
"No," he protests, which is exactly what a person sleep-talking would do. "I just, think better when I'm half-asleep."
"Think about what?"
He yawns again.
"About how much I wanna be home. About how good your shampoo smells. About how every pillow that's not yours sucks."
Your heart hurts painfully at how kind he is when he's tired and so far away.
"I miss you too," you whisper. "You'll be back soon. One more game."
He hums in agreement, blinking slowly at you, like a cat ready to sleep. "Don't hang up."
"I won't."
He nods.
"You make my dreams better."
You smile, full to the brim of your heart.
"Then dream away, Quinny."
His eyes finally close, breathing slowing to the beat you know by heart.
And even through a pixelated screen and two time zones away, you feel him with you , warm, soft, yours.
summary - The reader got a break, and took the opportunity to see Charles. the only thing? Charles doesn't know reader is coming to see him.
dani thoughts - Charles my KINGGG day four of my birthday celly, only have one more day left <3
warnings - nothing
word count - around 400
read the rest of my birthday countdown fics : here !
You hadn't planned on being here.
Not this weekend at the race. Not with life and work having tied themselves into a knot at home. But when your meeting was cancelled and a 4 a.m. flight became available out of your city to the track… you took the opportunity.
Charles didn't know.
You'd batted aside his messages the last several hours at least, not rudely, just casually.
"Hope quali goes well! Talk after?" You'd sent it from the rear seat of an Uber taking you to the airport. He'd probably think you still were on the other side of the world.
And then, here you were, tucked away in the back corner of the Ferrari garage seconds before qualifying, heart racing as if you were about to take a flying lap.
You had no idea which instant betrayed you, whether he overheard your laugh when you and one of the engineers said something, or whether he simply had that creepily telepathic intuition where he always seemed to know where you were.
But then, above the roar of the garage, you saw his helmet come swinging towards you. Eyes bulging behind the visor. A split second's pause, then he was walking towards you, red suit perfect, gloves being pulled on, his face spreading into a grin that made the whole paddock tremble.
"No way."
You smiled inanely.
"Hi."
He didn't speak at first. Just hugged you closest he could, arms around your waist, his helmet pressed against your shoulder, his arms firm as if he couldn't believe you were real.
"Mon dieu, I didn't expect you until next week," he murmured, his voice against your neck.
You laughed. "Surprise?"
He leaned in, just enough to look at you. "I was in such a bad mood today. And now? I could get pole just for this."
"You're good luck?"
"I know you are," he said, pushing a strand of hair behind your cheek. "You should've seen my face when I saw you. Like a little kid."
You kissed his cheek, smiling. "You still look like a little kid."
He pouted dramatically. "I take it back. No more hugs."
"Too late," you said, leaning forward once more. "I'm here now. You'll have to get used to it."
Over his shoulder, one of the engineers yelled, "Two minutes, Charles!"
He extricated himself reluctantly, but not before giving your hand a brisk squeeze. "Stay right here, d'accord? After quali, you're the first person I come back to."
You nodded, heart full.
As he departed down the pit road, you could tell he'd been smiling throughout since spotting you—and even as he got into the car, he was still glancing over his shoulder.
summary - Luke insists the reader wears his jersey to a game. The reader pretends to refuse, teasing him all day, only to show up proudly wearing it and cheering loudest when he scores.
dani's thoughts - Luke Luke Luke Luke !!! day three of my birthday fics <3
warnings - nothinn
word count - 430
read the rest of my birthday fic countdown : here !
"Just wear it," Luke complained from the edge of the bed, grabbing his jersey from his duffel bag and holding it above his head like an offering.
You, calmly sitting in the corner of the room with a wicked grin, crossed your arms.
"Mmm… I don't know. I already have a quite cute Devils crewneck."
Luke pouted , over-the-top, NHL-boyfriend pouting.
"But it's not my jersey," he reminded me, holding it high like a treasured artifact.
"Come on. Hughes on the back? It's a look."
You tilted your head in mock innocence.
"Is it?"
He scowled at you.
"You're messing with me."
You grinned, shrugging.
"Maybe."
Luke dropped the jersey onto the bed with a dramatic flourish and groaned. "
You are the worst."
You grinned, heading over to kiss his cheek.
"You'll make it through warmups without me in your name.".
He muttered something under his breath about betrayal as he stormed out, but you didn't catch the anxious glance he tossed back over his shoulder ,in case you ever changed your mind.
You did.
You just didn't tell him.
The arena was charged that evening, red lights strobing, the crowd dense and deafening. You slipped down to your regular place behind the bench just ahead of puck drop, hoodie up the entire way.
The game was frenetic. Fast. Tight. The Devils were flying.
And then, in the last moments of the second period, Luke scored.
Pure perfection. A pure wrist shot from the blue line, through traffic. The horn blared, the lights strobed, and the team mobbed him.
You jumped to your feet, peeling back your hoodie to show the #43 HUGHES jersey underneath it, his jersey, pulled straight from his bag.
You screamed louder than anyone else in the section.
When Luke glanced over at the bench and spotted you, his smile changed. It wasn't the on-ice grin. It was softer. Lighter. For you.
He once touched his chest, over the letters on his own jersey, and directed his finger at you.
Red-handed. Caught. In his name.
You blew him a kiss and mouthed,
"Worth the wait?"
He smiled, cheeks flushing, before he skated away.
Later that night, showered and victory-stinking, Luke almost tackled you onto the couch, his arms wrapped around you from behind.
"I knew you were gonna wear it," he breathed smug into your neck.
"You were so smugly proud of yourself," you goaded.
"Because I was!" He nuzzled quietly, his face in your shoulder. "You in my jersey?" Unbeatable.
You smiled.
"Guess I'll keep it, then."
Luke recoiled, his eyes shining.
"Only if you wear it to every game. And afterwards. And to bed."
You laughed.
"Luke!"
"What?" he grinned. "You said it suited you. I'm just agreeing."
summary - Juraj comes home with a swollen face. The reader tries to fuss over him, but he just pulls them into his lap
dani's thoughts - Juraj my king!!!!! and day two of my birthday count down :) I love him so so so much <3
warnings - nothinnn
word count - 377
read the rest of my birthday countdown fics : here !
You heard the front door open after you glanced at the clock. Later than you ever came home. And quieter.
That was your first clue.
The second one was the definite thump of a duffle bag being dropped onto the floor with a little more weight than needed.
You poked your head around the corner from the kitchen.
"Slaf?"
Juraj's long body came into view, still in his Habs team hoodie, cheeks flushed with cold and effort, one arm locked against his side. His lip was split, but very slightly, the smallest bruise beginning to show under his eye.
And yet, he smiled when he saw you.
You strode three paces across the room.
"What's happening? Oh my god, your face-"
He shooed you away, and that only made you more suspicious.
"Just a hit in the corner. Happens all the time."
"That's not just a hit, Juraj. You're, wait, are you bleeding? Did they even give you ice?" You were already tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie like a stubborn ER nurse.
He chuckled, soft and rasp
"Baby, I'm fine."
You scowled.
"You tell me that, but your expression says you fought with a vending machine."
He inched closer and kissed the crown of your head.
"And I won."
You snorted, but your worry didn't cause you to forgo hugging him around the waist carefully, taking care around his shoulder. He moved into the hug, resting his chin on your head, great arms enfolding you.
"Get you some ice," you grumbled, already up to grab a towel.
But Juraj caught your wrist, restraining you.
"No ice."
"Juraj."
He sprawled on the couch and scooped you onto his lap, wrapping you in his arms like a big hug blanket. You tumbled into his arms naturally, attempting to be gentle against his battered muscles.
He breathed a deep, contented breath into your hair.
"Cuddles do it better."
You blinked up at him.
“That’s not science.”
“It is now.”
You sighed, smiling despite yourself.
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he murmured, eyes fluttering closed, “you’re still in my lap.”
You stayed there, tangled up together, his heartbeat steady against your cheek. Eventually, your fingers found his and laced together. His injured side pressed carefully to the couch, your weight tucked against the other.
He didn't require the ice. Not when you were warm and present and holding him like that.
summary - max cant get his gloves on properly, so reader helps him.
dani's thoughts - first fic in my birthday countdown :)) i honestly love max, and this fic is so cute to mee
warnings - nothinn
word count - 610
read the rest of my birthday countdown fics : here !
It starts like it always does.
Max is pacing the floor of his motorhome in his race suit, one glove on, the other dangling from his fingers, his brows furrowed like something isn’t quite right. You’re leaning against the doorframe, watching him spin in little anxious circles.
"Max," you call out. He stops running, glancing over at you with that familiar look, like he requires help but is too arrogant to say so out loud.
You tilt your head. "Trouble?"
He raises his gloved hand in frustration.
"It's stupid," he mutters. "I can never get this one tightened up right. It's as if the glove has a sixth sense and knows when I'm rushed."
You smile and walk toward him, already reaching for the strap. “Here let me help you, I got it.”
Max chuckles under his breath. “You should be on the payroll.”
Pay me in hugs," you joke back to him, already getting the way the glove fits correctly, drawing it up tightly around his wrist like you have a dozen times. It's become a ritual now, quiet, intimate, something known by only the two of you before he faces the paddock storm.
When the glove is on and the strap buckled just so, you strike his knuckles and spread your arms.
"Okay. Now the other half of the bargain."
He comes in without thinking. Arms tight around you, helmet against your shoulder, his whole body unwinds in your arms. The tension before the race melts away to something more concrete.
"I hate how much this comforts me," he growls.
You grin. "Love you too."
The race is chaos.
There's rain on the track, there's a mid-race safety car, there's disaster narrowly avoided in Turn 11. Your heart's racing half the time, but your fingers are still tingling from tying his glove.
And then, he wins.
Not just a win, him dominating. Sprints a blistering last lap, crossing the line with space to spare before the next car even spots the checkered flag. The garage erupts. You're cheering along, but there is only one destination your eyes wander: the screen showing his face, red and flushed beneath the helmet.
You hardly realize he's pursuing you until you turn and see him running along the paddock walkway, helmet already off, rosy-cheeked and grinning.
He doesn't say anything. Just picks you up and holds you in his arms tightly enough that your feet lift off the ground for an instant.
"You were watching?" he asks, still panting.
"Of course," you laugh against his chest.
He belittles you but won't let go. No, he takes off one glove and shoves his fingers between yours.
"You're going to all the races now," he announces.
Your eyebrows jump. "What?"
Max edges closer.
"No more weekend skippings. I need you. The gloves won't fit on properly without you, and I don't win without the hug."
"Max—"
“I’m serious,” he cuts in, smiling but sincere. “You think it’s a coincidence I’ve had my best starts when you’re there? It’s the glove. It’s you. It’s us.”
You blink, overwhelmed for a second by how serious he is.
“But it’s, like… twenty-two races.”
He shrugs.
"Then we'll get you a paddock pass. Your own headset. I don't care. I just—" He stops, looking down at your clasped hands. "I'm better when you're there. And I drive better when I'm better."
You look at him, all windswept hair and pink cheeks and fireproofs unzipped halfway, and your heart actually aches with how much you love him.
"Okay," you whisper. "Every race. Every glove. Every hug."
He kisses your forehead, and your nose, and your lips.
about --> hi im dani, and my birthday is on the 27th, which is this friday!! because of this i wanted to celebrate by writing 5 stories, each of them being one of my favorite athletes. thank u for staying and enjoy!!!
day one --> max verstappen
Where max struggles to put his gloves on properly, so the reader helps him.
day two --> juraj slafkovsky
Juraj comes home with a swollen face, and when reader tries to fuss over him, he just wants to lay down.
day three --> luke hughes
Luke insists on reader wearing his jersey to the NJ devils game. The reader playfully refuses all day, only to show up to the game wearing it and cheering the loudest for him.
day four --> charles leclerc
The reader surprises the driver by showing up at the race when they weren’t supposed to be there.
day five --> quinn hughes
Quinn calls reader from his hotel bed on a long roadie, missing them.
It's my 3 year anniversary on Tumblr?! I guess I'm three guys? I'm so so so sorry for the absence, betweens sports , classes, and performing I have had no time to be online :( but thank you to all the friends I've made throughout my three years and all the love and support given to me, I'm going to try to be more active so watch out >:)
summary- luke leaves for his roadie, but he writes little notes around the house for you to find.
trigger warnings- reader is a little sad Luke left, but nothin elsee
dani's thoughts- ive been so busy, i havent had time to finish this fic, but I'm so happy with how it turned out!!
word count- 1.3k
Luke had left earlier this morning to make it on time to leave with his team. The road trip schedule was booked solid, and even though he promised to call and text as frequently as he could, the apartment nevertheless felt too very empty without him, even though he was gone for a couple hours.
You woke up to sunlight filtering through the curtains, the sharp sting of late winter air that sent shivers down your spine. Without Luke's warmth beside you, the bed felt cavernous. You rolled onto your back, letting out a breath, but then your eye was caught on something , a little wadded-up ball of paper on his pillow.
In his unmistakable handwriting, it read:
Good morning, love. I'm sure you're missing my obnoxious snoring about now. Have a good day and know that I'm thinking of you.
A smile tugged at your lips. It was so characteristic of Luke , sweet, thoughtful, and goofily charming. You clutched the note to your chest, his words seeping into your heart like a warm hug.
After dragging yourself out of bed, you went to make coffee. But when you opened the cupboard, another note fell down.
Don't forget, you make the best coffee in the world. I love you more than my morning cup. And that's saying something.
You smiled to yourself, imagining his sheepish grin as he wrote it. The apartment no longer felt so empty.
Throughout the day, the notes seemed like little explosions of Luke's presence. On the floor beneath the remote on the coffee table was another one:
I'm not there to pick the movie, but I have faith in you to make the right choice. Unless you pick a rom-com. Then we'll need to have words.
By lunchtime, you found a note on the fridge:
I know you're probably waiting here, suffering from takeout agony. But remember the way I bragged when you got that pasta recipe right? You can do this, baby.
You took his advice, smiling to yourself as you cooked. It wasn't perfect, but with Luke's belief in you, it was all the sweeter.
You'd spent the hour leading up to lunch attempting to prepare, but then you had to get things accomplished. Fold laundry, one of them being. And there, among the clothes, was another note shoved into Luke's hoodie pocket.
Miss me yet? Don't worry, this hoodie still smells like me. Bonus cuddle material. But remember, I'm the real deal.
You buried your face in the hoodie, taking a whiff of the top notes of his cologne on the fabric. It stung less.
Later, while cleaning the bathroom, you found a small sticky note taped to the mirror:
Look at that beautiful face. Even the toothpaste splatters can't detract from how beautiful you are. Smile for me, love.
You rolled your eyes, smiling, playfully blowing a kiss to yourself.
While grabbing a book from the bookshelf in the living room, yet another note floated to the floor.
I'm sure you've read this one a dozen times already, but did you know that I adore the way your eyes sparkle when you reach your favorite part? It's the sweetest thing.
That night, the sun fell below the horizon, and lights in the apartments shone golden. You curled up on the couch, at last giving in to a rom-com you knew Luke would roll his eyes over. But at the end credits, you missed his laughter, the teasing way he'd deride the plot.
And then, as you reached for the blanket, another note protruded.
Hi, if you're seeing one of those sappy movies when I'm not around, I hope you're recalling all the times I pretended that I didn't like them. Spoiler: I secretly love them if it's for the opportunity to watch them with you.
Your eyes watered with tears — not tears of sadness, but of the emotional warmth his words brought. Luke was not present in body, but his love was everywhere.
At bedtime, your phone buzzed with a FaceTime call. His face appeared on the screen, his smile wide even though he was obviously exhausted.
"Hey, love," he whispered.
"Hey," you replied, the warmth of his letters still coursing through you. "I've found all your letters. You're the sweetest, you know that?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, a flush climbing to his cheeks.
"I just wanted you to know that I was still here."
"You were," you replied. "You always are."
Later in the evening, after your phone call had concluded, you got back into bed. As you snuggled into the blankets, one final note poked out from beneath his pillow.
I miss you so very much. Any empty hotel bed makes me homesick, just to be under your arms in our home again. But that will happen. I love you, forevermore and always. Sweet dreams.
You held the note to your chest. Luke's love reached every nook ,the messages he wrote, the memories filling your home, and the reassurance that all too soon, he'd be where he should be. At home. With you.