#andrei svechnikov x you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewintersoldierdisaster · 17 days

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a/n: anon(s)! baby fic is here!! apologies for the wait but it’s long and i hope it’s worth it ☺️ honestly this fic feels like total chaos but i kind of love the vibes. not too much to say other than this was fun to write and i think we’re done on svechnikov baby birth fics lol

word count: 6.4k

tw: mentions of labor, brief innuendo, post partum anxiety (not diagnosed in fic)

summary: it’s time for baby svechnikov number four to make their entrance into the world and of course it’s chaos in the best possible way

“Mama!” Alina shrieks for your attention and your heart skips a beat at her volume, mild fight or flight kicking in before you catch sight of her in the doorway and see that she’s fine.

“Christ,” you mutter to yourself, heartbeat returning to normal. The baby gives a violent kick to your kidney and you wince. “Sorry, bub,” you pat the side of your stomach, “that hit of adrenaline couldn’t have been fun.”

Alina shouts for you again and you level her with a stern look, “hey, what did Mama tell you about shouting like that?”

You’re too pregnant to be gentle parenting, but if you don’t remind Alina about her indoor voice, she’ll just run rampant over the next few months while you’re completely distracted with the new baby. She shuffles her feet and pulls at the little ruffles on the sides of her bathing suit.

“No shoutin’ unless someone’s bleeding or really, really sick,” she sighs and when you nod, she perks up with a toothy little grin. “But I had to shout ‘cause Papa says your frone is ready!”

“My frone?” You repeat, brows scrunched together in confusion. You repeat the word a few times under your breath until it clicks. “Oh! My throne?”

Alina nods and does a little wiggle, bouncing on her feet. “Come on, mama! We wanna show you!” She’s definitely still shouting, but your middle daughter has never understood the concept of an inside voice.

You smile at her and laugh, “okay, mama’s coming, Alya. Remember I’m very slow.” You brace one hand at your lower back, the other hand rubbing at the side of your distended belly. As scary as it is, you’re glad that you’re being induced tomorrow - your entire body is sore and your back and hips are killing you from carrying around this giant Svechnikov baby. Your actual due date isn’t for another week, but since baby’s measuring so big, your ob/gyn made the call for a scheduled induction.

“Mama’s like a tuuuurtle,” she grins slyly, skipping back to the yard and leaving you shaking your head.

As soon as you get to the back door, you can feel the mid-August Raleigh heat and humidity, sweat already prickling at your hairline and armpits. You frown, already uncomfortable and not really in the mood to go outside. Leaving the air conditioning is going to be miserable, but the girls were begging you to join them and Andrei outside, so how could you resist. You scrape your hair back into a knot on top of your head, trying to keep as much of it off your neck as possible. Little pieces fall out anyway and curl with the humidity.

You wedge your feet into the pair of Adidas slides at the back door and step carefully over the lip onto the back patio. The heat hits instantly and you frown, cranky. The baby jabs an elbow into your side and you wince - there’s absolutely no room left in your stomach and every time the baby moves, you’re painfully reminded of that. You hadn’t even realized your stomach could stretch this much, but baby number four is testing the limits.

“Maaaaamaaaaa!” Alina and Kira shriek for you in stereo and you wave from the door, reluctant to go outside into the heat.

“Mama’s coming,” you call back, bracing a hand under the curve of your belly and waddling farther out onto the patio. The air feels like soup and you have no idea how Andrei and the girls are so energetic. Before you can make it a handful of feet, Andrei’s at your side, kissing your temple and wrapping an arm around your waist. “Hi,” you murmur.

“Hi,” he smiles down at you, looking a little tired. His face is bright pink too, which you had warned him would happen. “Off to your throne, solnyshka.”

You let him guide you over the grass, avoiding the lawn toys and stray Barbie dolls that litter the ground. You’re perfectly capable of walking on your own, but it’s nice to lean your weight against Andrei’s side and have him help you. “Did you reapply sunscreen?” You ask, knowing the answer. Besides his face, his shoulders, chest, and arms are all tinged pink too.

He wrinkles his face at you. “I think once? I’m fine,” he shrugs and stops in front of your throne.

It’s one of your beach chairs settled in front of the girls’ old baby pool, an umbrella stuck in the grass behind the chair.

You grin at Andrei as the girls sprint up and dance around you.

“Do you love it, Mom?” Evie bounces excitedly on her toes. “That way you can watch us play!”

“I love it!” You cup Evie’s cheek in one hand, ruffling Alina’s hair with the other. “This is the best throne ever, you guys are making me feel so special.”

“Only the best for our koroleva,” Andrei winks at you, hoisting Kira up onto his hip when she starts tugging at the hem of his swim trunks. She grins her little toddler grin at you and then whispers in Andrei’s ear, a chubby little hand splayed on his cheek. He nods seriously and says, “yes, Mama will watch you go down the slide.”

You laugh and lower yourself into the chair, your lower back popping and protesting. A little groan slips past your lips and all four of your watchdogs whip their heads in your direction. The girls have wide eyed looks on their faces and you offer up a comforting smile, “sorry, girls. Mama’s okay, remember it’s hard for me to sit so low.”

A brief bout of Braxton Hicks two weeks earlier had taken you by surprise and your startled yelp and the way you had doubled over from the shock had scared the girls a little, so they’re insanely keyed into any weird noise you make lately.

“Why don’t you get Mama’s drink?” Andrei sets Kira back on her feet and nudges the three of them off with his hands. After they skip off, Andrei helps you swing your legs up and over so your feet kick in the cool water in the baby pool.

You sigh happily, dropping your head back, “oh god, that feels good. It’s hotter than Satan’s ass crack out here.”

The baby kicks, the outline of a little foot visible through the taut skin on your stomach, as if agreeing with you.

Andrei scratches at his jaw, rasping his fingers through a couple of days’ worth of stubble. “It’s not so bad, when you have the girls spraying you with the hose every two minutes,” he laughs a little, squatting down next to you and shaking his head so stray droplets of water fly off of his hair. Your face crinkles up and you swat at him, giggling. He taps at the side of your stomach, hand warm against your skin. “The little one is behaving?”

“In the loosest sense of the word,” you sigh, shifting in the chair, trying to get comfortable. “I’m kind of ready to get my lung capacity back.”

His hands stroke over the swell of your stomach, the baby’s arms and legs following Andrei’s touch. You pluck at the white linen fabric of your dress where it’s stuck to your skin with sweat, regretting the choice of clothing. “Tell me when you want to go inside,” Andrei says. “Girls will be fine if you’re not watching the water war.”

You hum, swishing your feet in the water. “A little vitamin D is probably good for me,” your smirk matches Andrei’s when the double entendre is out in the air. It’s been a minute since you had Andrei inside of you, too uncomfortable for the exertion, and you miss having him that way. The horny days of your second trimester are long in the rearview mirror.

Before he can say anything, the girls come running from the house, ice rattling around in the Stanley that Evie’s got clutched in her arms. You grin at the sight - your oldest leading the charge with her younger sisters following dutifully behind. Evie unceremoniously drops the cup on your lap with a chirpy, “here, Mama! Daddy even added lemon for you.”

“Oh, my favorite,” you reach out to tug on one of Evie’s braided pigtails and she beams at you before dancing away, Alina hot on her heels. Kira presses her little body up against your thigh and looks at you with puppy eyes. “What’s the matter, Kiry?”

“I have?” She asks, pointing at your Stanley.

You nod and hold the cup out for her, straw pointed in her direction. She plants her hands on the metal and chews a little on the straw while she sucks back more water than you expected. Andrei laughs a little when she gulps down the water, releasing the straw with a heavy sigh and then runs off, shrieking for her sisters.

“Adding another one to this chaos is going to be wild,” he comments, leaning back and splashing his hand in the pool water, hitting your shins with little droplets.

“Poor number four is either going to be the loudest to be heard or the quietest with three big sisters talking for them,” you giggle, tracing your fingers over the engraved 37 on the Stanley - the WAG Christmas gift that keeps on giving. You get a particularly painful kick to the ribs and wince, muttering, “maybe that first option.”

“Dadddeeeeeee!” A trio of shrieks echo across the yard, the girls calling for Andrei to rejoin them. He stands up and presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Duty calls,” he gives you a little salute and jogs off, leaving you to enjoy the way his ass fills out his bathing suit. It’s a view that never gets old, but even better is watching Andrei chase the girls around and play with them, matching grins on all four of their faces. He chases them through the sprinklers - if those have been on all morning, your water bill is going to be through the roof - and lets them splash him, pretending to get scared. He watches while the two older girls clamber up the side of the small inflatable water slide you’d ordered back in June when it was obvious that the majority of the summer was going to be spent in Raleigh, with the girls running loose in the backyard.

Kira stays at the bottom, in the splash zone, shrieking happily when Evie and Alina zip down the slide and hit her with water.

It’s honestly the best thing you’ve ever bought - the Nečas kids have been over for play dates at least once a week to run wild in the water and you’ve had a ton of the other guys and their families over for barbecues and parties. Now, you’re just glad it’ll keep your girls occupied while you relax.

After you’ve been outside for an hour or so, you call them all back so you and Andrei can reapply sunscreen to the girls’ pink little faces and shoulders. Andrei gets his own healthy dose of sunscreen, even though it’s too late for him to avoid the sunburn on his face, chest, and shoulders. You make a mental note to throw a bottle of aloe into the fridge when you get inside.

“I hate this, Mama!” Alina whines, bouncing from foot to foot while you try to cover her face in Baby Coppertone. “It’s yucky and sticky and I don’t want it!”

“If you don’t let me reapply,” you huff, out of breath from trying to keep her still between your knees and your severely diminished lung capacity, “your skin is going to turn pink and hurt.”

“I want pink skiiiin!” Alina howls, dodging your sunscreen covered hands and running off, her face a little mask of white from the lotion you hadn’t been able to rub in properly. She disappears into the playhouse and you roll your eyes, giving up completely. You’re too exhausted to fight her and tomorrow’s sunburn will be a problem for the babysitting grandparents while you push out the bowling ball baby laying on your bladder.

Behind you, Andrei laughs and teases you, “just like her Mama, that one.”

“Absolutely not,” you grumble, holding out your hands to him so he can pull you to your feet. “I’m literally so quiet and agreeable.”

“Maybe when you’re sleeping,” Andrei scoffs, helping you step out of the pool. His palm finds the side of your stomach like a magnet, fingers spread over the swell protectively. “Otherwise, you’re stubborn like a bull.” He pauses, smirks. “And loud.”

“You’re terrible,” you mutter, waddling as fast as you can to the bathroom. “Bullying the woman who’s carrying your fourth giant baby.”

Andrei’s voice carries through the bathroom door as you shut it behind you, “this is only the second big baby! The other two were normal sized.”

Later, when it’s far past your bedtime and you still can’t sleep with excitement and nerves swirling low in your belly, you whisper into the dark of your bedroom, “Drei? Are you awake?”

It takes a second, but eventually he replies, “depends.”

“On what?” You reply quietly, shifting and bending your leg so you can open up your hip a little and relieve some of the uncomfortableness. Kira curls closer to you, one arm draped over your stomach, the thumb of her other hand wedged firmly in between her lips. She looks even more like a baby while she sleeps, long eyelashes fluttering against the tops of her cheeks, and you start to feel emotion clogging your throat. Her last night of being the family’s baby. You hadn’t had the heart to put her back in her own bed when she came wandering in a few hours ago.

“On what you need from me,” Andrei’s voice is clouded with sleep, but you see and feel him roll onto his side so he’s facing you.

You stick your tongue out at him lightly. “Last night as a family of five,” you murmur. “Any final guesses - fourth girl or first boy?”

“Girl,” Andrei replies on a yawn, reaching his hand out and over Kira to rub at your belly. “Belly looks the same as it did with all three, just bigger.”

He’s not wrong, but, “agreed. But only because I think my nose spread out again like with the girls.”

“You’re just as beautiful as always,” Andrei says.“Your nose looks the same too.”

You’re convinced he’s lying, but there’s no point in arguing now.

“Think we’ll see bub tomorrow or will it be a couple of days?” You yawn, exhausted but wired. You can’t decide if you have to pee or if it’s just the pressure of the baby.

“Tomorrow,” Andrei laughs a little, “if the kid knows what’s good for her.”

You yawn again and Andrei tells you to get some rest, “it’s going to be a busy few days, solnyshka.”

Somehow you manage to fall asleep and then it’s induction day, a hectic morning consisting of four grandparents showing up and three little girls bouncing around asking if their baby is coming yet. You’re overwhelmed by the time Andrei helps you into the passenger seat of the Navigator, kissing you gently.

“Calm, my love,” he murmurs against your lips, rubbing at your stomach. “We know what to do, right?”

You nod, “right.” Wrapping your fingers in the neck of his t-shirt, you tug Andrei back in for another kiss. “Let’s go have a baby!”

Twelve hours later, you’re dripping in sweat, contractions gripping your stomach every thirty seconds with regularity. Andrei’s eaten lunch, dinner, and then a second dinner around 8:30. You, on the other hand, are on your ninth cup of ice chips and are dying for something that will actually fill you up.

You hold out your hand for Andrei’s when another contraction starts and he lets you crunch his fingers together while you breathe through it. “More ice?” He asks, brushing frizzy, damp strands of hair off your forehead.

“No,” you huff, slumping back against the pillows. “I never want to see an ice chip again. The second this kid pops out, I need you to get me a party platter of sushi, I don’t care what time it is.”

Andrei laughs and promises that he’ll get you whatever you want.

After that, it’s a blur. The contractions are nonstop, your ob/gyn between your legs encouraging you to push, and Andrei’s arm braced around your upper back to give you some leverage.

“Okay, I see some hair,” your doctor says. “Big head, but one push and it should be out. Then we’ve got a baby!”

Andrei murmurs encouraging words in your ear that you barely hear over the rush of blood in your head and the guttural scream that forces out of your throat. You scream and cry and there’s pressure and then release as the baby slides out.

You’re allowed to slump back against the pillows, tears streaming down your face while you crane your neck to see the baby, “is the baby healthy? Is she okay?”

“He’s just perfect,” your doctor beams, holding the baby up. “It’s a boy, mom and dad!”

Her words sink in and you start sobbing - a little boy!

Your husband’s big hand is cradled over your head and the baby’s on your chest, bloody and scrunched up and crying. Your own hands automatically come up to cradle him, your lips pressing against the top of his head. “A boy! Oh my god, Drei, a little boy,” you sob to him, laughing into Andrei’s mouth when he kisses you.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says shakily, his cheeks wet. “A son. Solnyshka, thank you. He’s - thank you. Fuck, I love you so much.”

Andrei’s hand comes up to cover yours on the baby’s back and you’re jolted by how warm his hand is compared to yours, you’re shaking and freezing, but all you can focus on is how happy you are.

The baby’s cries taper off and he nuzzles against your chest, your heart melting at how perfect and adorable he is.

“He looks like the girls,” Andrei comments, unable to stop staring. His fingers stroke over the baby’s back, your own trembling with the adrenaline come down.

You laugh. “They all look like you, babe. My genes never stood a chance,” you can’t stop smiling, pressing your lips all over the baby’s head. He’s so warm against your chest.

You’re not sure how long you get to keep the baby on your chest, but the next thing you know, you’re in recovery, dozing while you watch Andrei hold his son. The baby is a big one, like you’d expected, weighing in at a sold nine pounds, eleven ounces. Your entire lower body is still throbbing with pain, but it’s all so worth it to see Andrei with the baby cradled in his arms.

“Four kids and I still can’t believe he’s real,” Andrei chuckles hoarsely, gazing down at the baby with shiny eyes.

“Oh, I can believe it,” you reply dryly, shifting with a wince. “I feel like we should’ve been more prepared with boy names.”

You’d run through the list of the few that you had liked, but none seem right. His middle name will be for Andrei, but the first name is stumping you both.

“We’ll figure it out,” Andrei looks up at you with a grin. “I love you so much, I said that, right?”

“Several times,” you hold out your arms and wiggle your fingers at him. “Give me back my baby, Drei.”

Andrei transfers the baby to you with the ease of a practiced parent, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. You’re both exhausted and it’s so early in the morning the sun isn’t even up yet. You’ll have to pass out soon, but right now you can’t get enough of the infant. He looks so much smaller when he was in Andrei’s arms. You trace over the slope of his nose with the tip of your index finger, seeing so much of the girls and Andrei in his features. “You sure you don’t want to name him after your dad?” You ask, double checking.

“No, no,” Andrei shakes his head. “Geno has that covered. Besides,” his lips twist up in an impish little smile, “Igor’s not my favorite name.”

You know he’s thinking about the Canes’ most recent loss to the Rangers in the second round of the playoffs. The Rangers getting swept in the ECF had been extremely satisfying in your house.

You giggle a little and watch as the baby yawns. He’s been quiet, sleeping on and off, so much more peaceful than his older sisters. “Okay, I get it. You know, my grandfather, his name was Demetrius. A few letter changes…Dimitri?”

Andrei’s knuckle brushes against the soft pudge of the baby’s cheeks and murmurs the name. “Dimitri,” it sounds so different, so much better in his accent, “Dimka.”

He yawns in your arms and it feels like something clicks into place in your chest. You nod at Andrei, “that’s it. That’s his name.”

“Dimitri Andreievich,” Andrei laughs as he says the name. “Big name for a little boy.”

“He’s almost ten pounds,” you scoff. “This is a gift from the Big Boy genes, oh husband of mine.”

He smirks at you, leaning in for a kiss and your poor battered vagina gives a weak throb of pain. It’s too soon for him to be this adorable.

After a solid three hours of sleep, broken up once so you can try feeding Dimitri, you start pestering Andrei for your sushi. It’s nearing eight in the morning on the nineteenth, making it nearly twenty-four hours since you had breakfast with the girls before coming to the hospital.

“What about anything else?” He frowns at you. “Sushi for breakfast is…” He trails off, wrinkling his face in disgust.

With the baby latched to a nipple, you pout at him. “Did I or did I not push your giant child out of my body?” You pause to inhale and then continue, “And! Since it was already this morning before someone thought to feed me, all I’ve eaten in twenty four hours is ice chips and a peanut butter sandwich. I am starving!”

Andrei laughs at you, but before he can answer, gets distracted by his phone vibrating in his pocket. It’s probably Elena, looking for an update since you hadn’t called anyone in the early hours after Dimitri had been born, exhausted and looking to soak in the time as a trio. You turn your attention to the baby while Andrei chats in Russian on the phone. He hangs up and sits down on the edge of the bed, wrapping his hand around your knee. “Mama says the girls are going wild, waiting to hear about their new baby,” he grins toothily. “Can sushi wait? I think maybe I’ll go get the girls to introduce them to their brother.”

“Natives are restless?” You ask, the guilt of being away from the girls, even for a day, even to literally give birth, starting to creep in. Tears well in your eyes and you don’t bother to do anything about it, knowing you’re going to be a weepy mess for the foreseeable future. “How do you feel about meeting the big sisters, D?”

Dimitri lets out a soft little baby squeak and you give Andrei a watery grin. “I think he likes that plan. Bring me my girls.”

In the time that Andrei’s gone, Dimitri naps in his little plastic bassinet and you get helped into the bathroom by your nurse, ready to sit with the girls as long as their attention spans can handle it. You brush your hair back into a neater braid and wash your face clean of sweat. By the time that Andrei texts that he’s parking, you feel a little more human.

You can hear little footsteps running down the hall and you rub a hand over Dimitri’s belly, “get ready for Hurricane Svechnikova, bub.”

“Mama!” Evie bursts through the door first, hair in two pigtails on the top of her head and a bright red tutu around her waist. You beam at the sight of her and open your arms.

“Hi, bunny,” you coo, emotions clogging up your throat. “Come give me a hug!”

She dances over to your side and clambers up on the bed, nearly smacking you in the face with a piece of construction paper and jostling you a little painfully. You wrap her up in a tight hug, inhaling her little-kid scent of markers and Johnson and Johnson shampoo. Over her shoulder, you see Alina skip into the room and you hold open one arm.

“My Alya,” you grin. “Come join Mama.”

She’s in a Canes giveaway t-shirt that you’d cut down so it wasn’t a literal dress on her and you briefly wonder how wild they were being if this is how they ended up dressed. Alina needs a little help getting up on the bed and as Evie is pulling at the back of her shirt, Andrei appears at the door, Kira on his hip and an exasperated frown on his face.

“Didn’t Papa tell you not to run?” He raises an eyebrow at the older girls cuddled against your sides.

“We missed Mama,” Evie replies, pouting. You smooth a hand over her hair and shake your head at Andrei. They don’t need a parenting moment right now. Kira wiggles in his arms and reaches for you until Andrei relents and settles her on your lap in a way that doesn’t cause you pain. None of the girls have even so much as looked at the baby, but you’re not rushing them, knowing it’s a big change for them.

Andrei settles on the little couch while the girls fill you in on all the fun they had with the grandparents yesterday. They make Andrei bring you the bag of pictures they drew for you and the baby and that seems to trigger them. “Oh! Wait, Mama,” Evie perks up and looks around, “where’s the baby?”

You laugh and point at the plastic bassinet, “your little brother is right there. Just waiting to meet you three.”

Like it was rehearsed, all three of them scramble to the side of the bed to get a good look at Dimitri.

“He’s a boy?” Alina asks, squinting down at him.

“We have a brother? Not a sister?” Evie carefully reaches a hand into the bassinet to touch one of Dimitri’s tiny feet. “I thought it was a sister.”

“Baby!” Kira pats the edge of the plastic. “Baby in Mama’s belly?”

You kiss the back of her head. “Yeah, this is the baby that was in Mama’s tummy. His name is Dimitri.”

Andrei comes over to lift Kira and Alina into his arms so they can get a better look at the baby. “It’s different, right, to have a brother?” He asks, looking at you softly. You know he wouldn’t have cared if the baby were a girl, but there’s something about men and their sons, and you’re beyond happy that you were able to give him that.

“He’s not going to do much for a while,” you say. “But when he gets moving, I bet you’re all going to have a lot of fun.”

“Mmm,” Evie hums thoughtfully. “Boys are kinda yucky.”

“I’m a boy!” Andrei gasps, mock offended. “Am I yucky?”

You shoot him a wicked smile over Evie’s head and mouth ‘filthy’ at him, surprised that you even have it in you to flirt with him. Andrei laughs, his eyes sparkling, and you both nearly miss it when Evie chirps, “yeah, ‘cause sometimes you’re smelly after hockey.”

You snort a laugh and then, sensing that he’s missing some kind of party, Dimitri stirs, making little noises and wiggling his arms and legs. The girls watch, fascinated, and you skirt around Evie so you can pick him up. You glance at the clock on the wall and it’s been close to two and a half hours since you fed him, so he’s probably hungry. He starts to fuss more and the girls look a little disgruntled by the noise, so before they start complaining, you pucker up and plant a smacking kiss to Evie’s cheek, making her giggle. “How about Papa brings you guys back home so you can play and don’t have to watch me change any stinky diapers? Then you can come back later with Nana and Pop and Babu and Dedu? You can introduce them all to your new brother,” you grin, adding more excitement and animation to your tone so they’ll get excited too.

“You’re sure?” Andrei asks, even as your two middle kids are fighting in his arms, chattering at each other over who touched who. He’d scooped them off the bed as soon as Alina started poking at Kira to see how close she could get the former baby of the family to the edge of the bed without pushing her off. The noise they’re making is starting to agitate Dimitri and you’re very sure. Andrei himself looks a little frazzled with the girls practically shrieking in his ears.

“Go ahead,” you widen your eyes at him. “We’ll, ah, we’ll do a little more sibling bonding later in the day. D and I aren’t going anywhere.”

Andrei looks conflicted about leaving you, but honestly, Alina and Kira’s fighting is starting to give you a little bit of a headache. Dimitri is fussing more and you don’t want to start feeding him with the girls in the room because that opens up all the “whys” and “what are you doings” that the girls are so prone to these days.

Evie’s tucked against your side, looking down at the baby. She sighs and looks up at Andrei, “he’s so loud. Let’s come back when he’s quiet.”

Andrei’s mouth tips up in a half smile and you manage a weak laugh, reflexively holding out a hand to guide Evie when she half rolls, half climbs off the bed and beelines for the door. She waves over her shoulder and chirps a blithe, “bye Mommy, bye baby brother.”

“I think she’s expecting you to follow her,” you say to Andrei, a little wide eyed at your oldest’s actions. Securing Dimitri in one arm, you wave the other at the door, “go, please! Before she gets kidnapped!”

“Right, yeah,” Andrei nods and bounces the girls in his arms, “say bye to Mama. We’ll see her later, okay?”

Taking a little break from fighting, Alina and Kira wave at you over Andrei’s shoulders, blowing kisses. You wave back and then practically deflate when the door shuts behind Andrei and you’re left alone with the now opening crying Dimitri. You sigh and get him adjusted on your breast, quieting him immediately. You rub tiredly at your eyes, frustrated and exhausted. Maybe you’d underestimated the chaos four kids are going to be.

Once Dimitri is finished eating, you call for a nurse to bring him back to the nursery so you can get some much needed sleep. “I always feel bad sending them to the nursery,” you confess to the nurse, Jenna. “It makes me feel like a bad mom.”

“Sweetheart,” she laughs warmly, “I saw that husband of yours head out of here with your little girls. Sleep as much as you can before going home to that chaos.”

“They’re usually much better behaved,” you say wryly. “New sibling apparently throws off the routine.”

She tucks Dimitri into a swaddle and says, “oh, they get used to it. You two are old pros at this, so I think you know what you’re doing.”

You smile warily at her, a nervous pit in your stomach that you hadn’t felt after any of the girls’ births. You’re not sure why you feel so unsettled now, raising a boy in the early infancy stage isn’t any different than raising daughters. When Jenna takes Dimitri back to the nursery, you slide down on the bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin and getting as comfortable as possible to take a nap. A few tears leak out of the corners of your eyes, dripping down your temples and into your hair and you take a deep breath. It catches in your throat a little and you hiccup, covering your eyes with a cold, shaky palm.

Somehow, you manage to nap on and off, dozing in that weird limbo where you can hear most of what’s happening around you, but time passes faster than you think. After what feels like two minutes, but is actually closer to two hours, you give up on the nap and find your phone in the mess on the bedside table. You busy yourself with responding to texts and scrolling through social media, zoning out to a video of a woman making homemade pop tarts when Andrei appears at the door.

“Delivery,” he announces, your head shooting up at the sound of his voice. In his hand is an obscenely large paper bag with the name of your favorite sushi place stamped on the side. He catches your gaze and shakes it enticingly. “Husband of the year, yes?”

“If there’s spicy tuna in there, I’ll get the trophy engraved now,” you tease, a small, but genuine smile on your face. Andrei kisses the corner of your mouth and sets the bag on the rolling table.

“Two spicy tuna and plenty of miso soup,” he promises, sitting down on the mattress and helping you unpack the plastic containers.

You rub your chopsticks together and ask, “how are the girls? Everything okay at home?”

Andrei’s in different clothes than when he left and he smells like soap and cologne, so you know he at least showered when he got home.

“They’re good, don’t worry about them,” he reassures you, passing over a container of seaweed salad. “Kir was down for a nap when I left and our moms were playing Barbies with the older two.”

You nod, poking at the seaweed with a lazy motion. Andrei’s gaze is steady on your bent head, you can feel his eyes studying you and so you eat a mouthful of the seaweed, chewing slowly. As hungry as you had been earlier, it’s hard to swallow now. Andrei’s knee bumps yours and you look up at him, worried brown eyes on yours.

“What’s going on, solnyshka? Are you okay?” He ducks his head so he can maintain eye contact. One of his hands comes up and cups your cheek. You lean into his touch and shrug.

“I’m okay,” you sigh. “Just…”

Andrei’s quiet while you try and find the words. You’re not even sure what you’re feeling, why you’re so overly emotional.

“I missed the girls,” you say quietly. “But, four kids? It just…this isn’t going to be easy at all, Drei. They all started chattering and Dimitri was crying and I just wanted to cry too.”

“He’s not even a day old,” Andrei says gently. “It’s okay you’re emotional. I’ll tell you a secret,” he laughs under his breath, “I cried in the car when I went to get the girls.”

“Yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, setting your chopsticks down. Andrei’s not usually one to admit to crying.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Probably more because we have a son, but still. I cried.” Andrei winks at you, smiling warmly.

A little laugh slips past your lips and you tug at the end of your braid. “I think I’ll be okay once I get into a routine. But I’m glad the moms are staying until the season starts, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

Andrei scoffs and moves to sit next to you and wrap his arm around your shoulders so you can burrow against his side. “You’re the rock, koroleva. If anyone can handle me, four kids, and the hockey season, it’s you,” he praises you, mouth pressed against your temple. “Just tell me if you’re overwhelmed, okay? We figure it out as a team.”

You nod against his side, the knot in your chest loosening a bit. Your arm rests on his stomach and Andrei keeps you as close as possible, knowing you need the physical comfort right now. “We’re so done having kids, by the way,” you mutter into his shirt.

Andrei laughs and your whole body vibrates with the sound. He rubs his hand up and down your arm, teasing, “Dimka and I are still outnumbered.”

“Oh, that is not something I care about,” you laugh in response, snaking your hand out to pluck a piece of sushi out of its container. “We’re closed for business down there.” You pause and then continue, knowing Andrei will have a retort. “For baby making business. Other fun activities will be reevaluated at six weeks.”

Your husband gives you a mock little salute, amusement written plainly on his face. He picks up his own piece of sushi with his free hand, popping the piece in his mouth and chewing before he says, quietly and totally sincerely, “you’re the best mom the kids could’ve asked for, you know that, right?”

“You’re going to make me cry again, you big jerk,” you sniffle, pressing a hand to your mouth. “I just finished crying!”

“I’m sorry,” Andrei cuddles you closer. “Eat and rest, because the moms are not going to want to wait too much long to meet the little guy.”

You pull back a little so look up at Andrei’s face and he has a slightly dopey look in his eyes, a little upturn to his lips like he’s trying to fight off a smile. “You want to go get him, don’t you?” You ask, exhaling a little laugh through your nose.

Andrei nods eagerly, unable to hide his excitement. “Yeah,” he admits, “I know we should rest, but I really want to keep holding him.”

“Go get him,” you say, “I kind of want to get a hit of that newborn smell.”

“Weirdo,” Andrei captures your chin in his fingers and tilts your head up to kiss you sweetly.

You grin against his mouth, “your weirdo and mother to your weird children too.”

Andrei’s laugh follows him all the way out the door.

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov x you #andrei svechnikov fic #nhl fic

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holy-puckslibrary · 5 months

Text

here's everything i published in the month of OCTOBER.

˗ˏˋ main masterlist ˎˊ˗

★ THE ONE (18+)

pairing — fwb!ANDREI SVECHNIKOV x reader wc — 8k synopsis — the reader is andrei's favorite girl, but she isn't his only. for awhile, the arrangement was comfortable. he'd show up whenever he was in town, they'd fuck, and then he'd leave. rinse and repeat. so how will andrei react when their routine comes to a screeching halt?

★ CLANDESTINE (18+)

pairing — dbf!SIDNEY CROSBY x reader wc — 4.5k synopsis — when sidney catches the owner’s daughter hooking up with a rookie during a swanky event, he feels compelled to save an old friend some embarrassment. reminding showing her what a real man can do is just a bonus.

— INAUGURAL SLUMBER PARTY tags: #oct 23 // #lights camera action

★ sharing is caring deets series masterlist

★ thoughts/feelings re: kinktober

★ lucky charm hidden object teaser game

★ re-visiting cameo and the remaster series masterlist

— 1989 (GRACE'S VERSION) tags: #1989 (grace's version) // #1989 (GV)

★ TRACK ONE — OUT OF THE WOODS (quinn hughes) the crush verse masterlist

★ TRACK TWO — THIS LOVE (erik johnson) the nanny verse masterlist

★ TRACK THREE — I KNOW PLACES (sidney crosby) the sugar sugar verse masterlist

→ next month’s round-up

⤑ to my inbox💌

⬸ back to the catalog

⬸ back to the main blog

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2023 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted, or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

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heartsandhischier · 16 days

Text

Behind the Game Face

andrei svechnikov x female!reader

summary - 1.8k words. Perhaps Andrei isn't the only one hiding feelings of jealousy. part 7 of The Pretend Play

author's note - the grip this man has on me... that's all i can say

warnings - mentions of alcohol, reader getting a bit too drunk

In the pulsating heart of the club, where lights flickered like the rapid heartbeat of the night, Andrei and Y/N were adrift in a sea of sensory overload. Y/N, already feeling the effects of her earlier drinks, tried to maintain a facade of control as Andrei navigated them through the crowd, his presence a grounding force in the chaotic whirlwind of the club’s interior.

Their path was suddenly obstructed by a figure from Andrei’s past, a woman whose presence instantly changed the air around them.

“Look who we have here,” the woman, with her calculated smile and eyes that seemed to appraise everything they landed on, greeted Andrei with a familiarity that instantly set Y/N on edge. Her voice, sharp and clear amidst the cacophony, marked her territory without subtlety, her hand resting on Andrei's arm a silent claim that sparked a fierce irritation in Y/N.

“And you are?” her gaze shifted to Y/N, her voice dripping with disdain as if she was sizing up competition she'd already decided was beneath her.

“Elena, this is Y/N. Y/N, Elena,” Andrei's introduction was stiff, the tension palpable. Elena's examination was dismissive, her words laced with condescension. "Ah, the latest catch. How...quaint," she sneered, her dismissive glance a clear dismissal of Y/N's significance.

"Remember our time in Prague, Andrei? Those nights were unforgettable." Refocusing her attention on Andrei, Elena reminisced about a shared past in Prague, her words laden with innuendo, igniting a fierce blaze of jealousy within Y/N. The mention of intimate memories to which Y/N had no access felt like a deliberate provocation.

"Seems like some memories are better left forgotten," Y/N couldn't help but retort, her words sharper than intended, her filter dissolved by alcohol.

Elena's laughter grated on Y/N's nerves, her insinuation clear. "Oh, darling, you have no idea. Andrei here knows how to make a girl remember."

Y/N's discomfort grew with each passing moment, the combination of alcohol and jealousy clouding her judgment. Without a word, she turned, downing her drink and signaling the bartender for another. And another. As Elena's laughter echoed behind her, Y/N sought refuge and oblivion in the bottom of her glass, her emotions a whirlwind of hurt and resentment.

By the time Andrei realized Y/N had slipped away, she was on the dance floor, her movements unsteady, her laughter too loud. He excused himself from Elena's clinging presence, his concern for Y/N overshadowing any remnants of their earlier argument.

He found her surrounded by a crowd, the pulsating lights casting shadows over her face. "Y/N, what are you doing?" Andrei asked, reaching for her arm to steady her.

"Dancing, Andrei. What does it look like?" she slurred, her words slipping over each other.

"This isn't you. Let's get you out of here," he insisted, the scene before him a stark contrast to the Y/N he knew.

"Why? So you can go back to your precious Elena? Don't let me keep you," she shot back, her bitterness a clear.

“Let’s just leave,” he calmly suggested, she ripped her arm away from his grasp surprising him. “No I’m having fun,” she declared, though her swaying stance suggested otherwise.

“Y/N you’ve had too much to drink,”he said, bending slightly to place a comforting yet firm grip on her shoulders. “You know all about that don’t you?” she harshly remarked, her words cutting deep echoing the incident that put them here in the first place.

Andrei, with a firm but gentle grip, guided Y/N out of the club amidst her feeble attempts to break free, her movements sluggish and ineffective against his resolve. Retrieving their coats, he maneuvered them through the exit, her protests about the night being spoiled filling the air between them. As they stood outside, Y/N's stability wavered, her ability to remain upright compromised by her intoxication. Andrei, with a careful hand, supported her as they awaited a taxi, eventually helping her into the vehicle as he gave the driver the address to her apartment.

In the taxi, she slurriedly leaned against him, her head lolling onto his shoulder, he stiffened, unaccustomed to such closeness, yet found himself unable to pull away, his gaze fixed on the streetlights that danced across her features.

Standing outside her apartment she slurridely searched for her keys in her bag, “i can’t find them” she lamented repeatedly, her frustration mounting with each unsuccessful attempt. "Let me see," Andrei offered, his tone laced with barely concealed patience. Within moments, his hand emerged victorious, holding the elusive keys. Guiding her inside, the apartment bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the windows.

As he gently ushered her towards the couch, Y/N's ramblings began to unfurl, a stream of consciousness fueled by alcohol and raw emotion. "I hate you. I hate how you… always with them. The women, always smiling at you. I hate it," she confessed, her words cutting through him with their unvarnished truth.

Her words stung, a raw confession of jealousy and need. He watched her, a tempest of confusion and longing brewing within him as he knelt to remove her shoes, his hands gentle.

The task of helping her into pajamas was met with a respectful distance, his heart a tumultuous sea as the soft fabric slipped through his fingers. "I don’t understand… why does it bother me so much? You’re just... You, and I’m… I hate feeling like this. Why do you hate me being nice to others?" she queried, her voice a mix of innocence and accusation that tugged at something deep within him. He paused, the weight of her gaze heavy upon him.

"Let’s not do this now, Y/N. You’re not yourself," Andrei replied, his voice gentle, yet firm, as he carefully removed her makeup, his touch on her skin a bittersweet blend of intimacy and restraint.

She looked at him, her eyes a stormy sea of confusion and longing, and in a moment of impulsive vulnerability, she reached for him, her kiss a mix of desperation and softness. It was a collision of every unspoken emotion between them, a confession of need and denial.

“Don’t go. Stay with me, please.”

Her plea, a whisper against his lips, was the thread that unraveled him. He knew this wasn’t the time for truths, for the daylight would bring clarity and possibly regret. Yet, her need tethered him to her side.

“I’ll stay… but not like this. You need rest.”

He settled her into bed, her fingers slipping from his as sleep claimed her. Retreating to the couch, he was enveloped by the night’s silence, her words echoing in the chasm between them.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, the events of the night replayed in his mind, each moment a stitch in the fabric of their evolving relationship. The tenderness he had shown, her confused confessions, the fleeting kiss—it all painted a picture far more complex than any fake relationship should entail.

He realized then, in the quiet before dawn, that his feelings for Y/N were no longer a matter of convenience or pretense. They were real, as real as the ache in his chest when she spoke of hate, and as undeniable as the pull he felt towards her even now, separated by mere walls and unspoken truths.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room where the hockey player lay on the couch, a thin blanket pulled over him. He stirred awake to an unfamiliar yet comforting aroma wafting through the air, the scent of brewing coffee mingling with something divine being cooked. For a moment, he forgot where he was, until the events of the previous night slowly pieced themselves back together in his mind.

Pushing himself off the couch, he stretched away the stiffness and followed the enticing smells to the kitchen. There he found Y/N moving around with an ease around the kitchen. She looked different in the morning light, her hair pulled back casually, a hint of vulnerability in her stance that he hadn’t noticed before.

“Good morning,” she greeted, her voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of last night’s vulnerability. “I figured the least I could do, after you took care of me, was to make breakfast.”

He offered a small, appreciative smile, accepting the peace offering. "Smells amazing," he remarked, settling at the kitchen island, his gaze lingering on her.

The kitchen became a quiet refuge from the previous night's turmoil, their silence a comfortable blanket wrapping around them, hinting at a mutual understanding that was slowly knitting together despite their attempts at maintaining distance.

At one point, Y/N scooped up a spoonful of the meal she weas preparing, offering him a taste. As she brought the spoon to his lips, she instinctively placed her other hand under his chin, catching any stray drops. It was a small, almost intimate act that seemed to bridge the distance between them, even if just for a moment.

The food was delicious, a testament to her skills and effort to make amends, but as they ate, the weight of last night's words hung heavily between them. Finally, Y/N broke the silence, her voice tinged with a mix of hope and resignation. “About last night... we can just forget it happened, right? Go back to being strictly professional?”

He paused, the taste of the breakfast turning bittersweet. Part of him wanted to dive into the conversation, to explore the truths that had been revealed in her moment of vulnerability. But the reality of their situation, the facade they had to maintain, loomed large. “Yeah,” he agreed reluctantly, “strictly professional.”

The agreement hung in the air, a mutual decision to bury their emerging feelings under the guise of professionalism. Yet, the care they had for each other, the glimpses of something deeper, couldn’t be entirely masked by their words. It was there in the way she had cooked for him, in the way he had cared for her the night before, and even now, in the shared looks that spoke volumes.

As they cleared the dishes, a silent acknowledgment passed between them, a recognition of the complex bond they were beginning to form. Despite their agreement to forget, it was clear that the events of the last night had irrevocably changed something between them, introducing a layer of care and affection that couldn’t be simply undone.

As he left her apartment that morning, the taste of her cooking lingering on his lips and the memory of her drunken confessions echoing in his mind, the hockey player couldn’t help but feel that their charade was evolving into something neither of them had anticipated or could easily dismiss.

#andrei svechnikov fanfiction #andrei svechnikov fanfic #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov x y/n #andrei svechnikov x you #as37 #carolina hurricanes fic #canes fanfiction #carolina hurricanes imagine #carolina hurricanes fanfic #canes fanfic #nhl fanfic #hockey fanfic #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction #canes

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pucksandpower · 1 year

Text

Andrei Svechnikov x model!Reader - Instagram AU

nyrangers

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nyrangers Y/N Y/L/N is here and getting the crowd HYPED

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yourbiggestfan maybe i need to start watching hockey

rangersfan1 only good thing about the game

yourusername thanks for having me!

yourfan2 HI QUEEN

yourusername

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yourusername let’s do that hockey

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andrei_svechnikov37 if you ever want to cheer for a winning team, i’m the one who scored a hat trick to beat the rangers

martinnecas you miss 100% of the shots you don't take

caniac13 what are you doing here, svech???

yoursister did you really crop me out of the first pic?

yourusername must’ve been a glitch 🫣

yourusername

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yourusername I didn’t choose the wag life, the wag life chose me

tagged andrei_svechnikov37

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yoursister awww *vomits*

yourusername you literally asked me if he has a brother

yoursister shut up

yourusername well he does

yoursister i’m listening

seabasssvech i don’t know how to feel

caniacfan2 right but they look so cute together

andrei_svechnikov37

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andrei_svechnikov37 she’s a goon

tagged yourusername

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canes we’re in the market for a new enforcer

yourusername put me in coach

svechfan2 i can’t believe he successfully shot his shot at y/n

andrei_svechnikov37 i score on and off the ice

yourusername drei 😭

svechfan2 gonna go sleep on the highway

voguemagazine

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voguemagazine Y/N Y/L/N and Andrei Svechnikov for Vogue

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yourfan1 how are they this hot??? unfair

hurricanesfan3 major bi panic

randomuser5 they’re such a random couple but one of my favorites

y/nandreifan i love them your honor

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konecnyy · 11 months

Note

"i don't think i've ever seen you smile" 🍊 with andrei svechnikov

one cherry tomato | a.s ── in which you're left missing the company of your other half (no warnings ; gn!reader)

dinner is awkward. you push a cherry tomato around your plate with your fork, cheek leaning against the heel of your left hand. you're sure that if you lift your face, you'd have a red patch of skin to show for. the apartment is much too quiet for your liking, and it's been this quiet for the last week. truly, you'd never get used to the emptiness of the room, the emptiness in your chest, when andrei flies across the country and back. it's temporary, you know that, but it doesn't make you miss him any less.

he hadn't been answering your calls. he was supposed to be home an hour ago and yet here you are, sitting at the dining table all alone with one cherry tomato. normally at this point of the night, andrei would've stolen it right off your plate before you have time to protest. and now that you have it all on your own, you can't seem to bring yourself to finish it off. so you wait patiently, pushing the tomato back and forth, round and round.

you hear the door click on the other end of the apartment, the shuffling of his feet. you know it's him by the way he drags his feet along the floor, the way his duffle gently swings against his back with each step. you perk up in your seat, fork taut against the plate and stopping the tomato from rolling any further. the moment is reminiscent of how it goes every time. every time he comes home from a roadie, it always follows the same routine. you hear his steps grow louder and louder, he knows you're in the dining room. you're always in the dining room.

and just as you expect, he sticks his head through the archway, floppy dirty blonde hair falling on his forehead and dimples complimenting his smile.

"hi baby."

you smile. it's the kind of smile that makes your cheeks hurt. the one you know that glows, that displays every single tooth and every ounce of emotion. your heart flutters at the way the pet name drips from his lips, an array of butterflies released in your gut and fueling your excitement.

the bag drops in the next room, likely by the entrance of the dining room, with a soft thud. andrei's broad figure steps into the room, white t-shirt and grey sweatpants adorning him. he takes quick steps to you, bending over to press a chaste kiss on your lips.

"you're home."

"i'm home." another kiss.

"you didn't answer my calls."

"my phone is dead." another kiss.

"i should buy you a portable charger."

he chuckles and kisses you again. "maybe you should."

you grin widely, pressing another kiss to his lips before leaning back in your chair. he straightens his posture, head tilting his head as he stares at you for a moment. you feel your cheeks heat up, a high pitched what coming from you. andrei's hand finds itself caressing your cheek, cupped comfortably against your skin.

"i don't think i've ever seen you smile so wide before." he comments, thumb rubbing up and down.

you smile again, piercing the tomato with your fork. "i'm just happy you're home."

he grins, matching the one you gave him earlier. the kind that make his cheeks hurt, the one that glows. it's toothy, complimented by the dimples you adore so much. the kind of smile that makes you fall in love with him all over again.

his large hand wraps around your wrist, bringing the fork in your hand up to his mouth, picking the tomato off it. just like he always does. you smile, shaking your head.

"happy to be home my love."

🍊 sweet things

#🍊 blurb party #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov x you

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athenaswrath · 2 months

Note

Do you have any prompts or are you open to any requests?

Right at this moment I'm open to general requests. I'll post a list of prompts, probably after I finish my current ongoing series

I'm open to write for

Hurricanes

Canucks

Devils

Kraken

Jeremy Swayman

Mathew Barzal

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laurenairay · 1 year

Text

All I’ve Tried to Hide - A. Svechnikov

This is my entry for the winter fic exchange 2k23, run by the wonderful @antoineroussel.

I received @hoesforthecanes as a giftee, so I really hope you enjoy this Anna!

I had a lot of fun incorporating the ‘forbidden love’ trope that you had a preference for, and with writing a full fic for Andrei Svechnikov for the first time! I really hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! 🥰 definitely finished this quicker than I expected, but I was so inspired, so here we go!

All photos in the header banner are not mine; found across pinterest. Title from Dirty Little Secret, by All American Rejects.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: light angst, implied sexual moments, a little fluff

Summary: Hooking up with Andrei Svechnikov was all fun and games, as long as your brother didn’t find out…

We can’t choose who we fall in love with.

That’s what you told yourself, over and over again, every time you saw him. Every time you felt his molten gaze brushing over your body. Every time his smirk sent shivers down your spine. Every time he walked across the bar to you with that intense stare, your body filling with eager anticipation.

Because no-one knew.

That’s right, no-one knew that you and Andrei Svechnikov had been sleeping together for nearly six months now – and that’s the way it needed to stay. Why? Because your brother hated the idea of you being with an athlete. A few horrifically failed relationships in high school and college, all with athletes of various kinds, had left you broken in pieces on your older brother’s doorstep every single time, and now that you’d wound up living with him after your last failed relationship �� as well as working in his bar – you were dependent on his charity. So if he said no more athletes, then it was no more athletes…at least until you could get on your own two feet again.

What? You had a type, as much as it shamed you – and Andrei fit your type to a tee.

You could remember the first time you saw him. A big loud group of bigger louder guys had filled your brother’s bar, instantly attracting attention from most the patrons, and as a few of them pushed a couple of tables together, he had walked up to the bar where you were working. You could remember the soft smile on his lips as he leant over the bar top to place his order, the gentle rumble of his lilting accent intriguing you, and you knew the moment that he set up a limitless tab with a confident wink that you were in trouble. It had only taken a couple more visits before he was slipping through the staff door, the two of you connecting in a heated make-out in a secluded corner of the storage room out back, his lips, tongue, and hands sending you wild like no-one ever had before.

And it continued, over and over again, escalating to the two of you hooking up at Andrei’s place whenever he was in town, somehow managing to avoid your brother’s judgement, keeping your risqué relationship away from the bar and under wraps.

Everything had been perfect, until the passing of your birthday last week. Andrei had been on a roadtrip on the day itself, and you’d only just about managed to convince him not to send you a bouquet of flowers to the bar (which was out of character in itself), but now that he was back he’d insisted on celebrating properly with you, so you’d come over to his place for the evening. He’d hired a private chef to cook the most amazing three course meal, the two of you sipping on the most delicious wine you’d ever tasted throughout, and as soon as the chef left, he’d whisked you off to his bedroom, bringing you to dizzying heights over and over again, until you were wailing his name out for the entire city to hear.

It was only when he presented you with a diamond necklace, your skin still gleaming and your breathing still ragged, that you realised you weren’t just falling in love with him – you had fallen, head over heels, hook line and sinker. And you also realised that you needed to end things now, before you fell in too deep to recover.

“Andrei, what is this?”

“Your birthday gift?” he said, frowning softly in confusion, “Is it too much? Do you not like it?”

“It’s beautiful…but it isn’t what we do?” you said, wincing.

His frown sunk into a deeper confused expression, so you sat upright, clutching the bedsheets to your bare chest.

“We just – this is just hooking up, Andrei. You shouldn’t be buying me expensive gifts like this. Even hiring a chef to cook for us feels crazy,” you said softly, hating the words as they spilled from your lips.

You watched as his face shuttered, his broad shoulders drawing in on himself, hating yourself for making such a big guy look so small. What was wrong with you? Why were you doing this to him when it felt so wrong? But then he seemed to steel himself, posture straightening and broad chest filling out once more – and he looked you dead in the eyes, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“You are saying this because of your brother?”

His blunt statement made you wince – it was hardly a secret how your brother felt – the anger in his words feeling like a sharp stab, mostly because he was right.

“Andrei, I-”

“I don’t want to keep lying,” he said, interrupting, “lying to myself, to you, to the world. I don’t care that your brother doesn’t want you with an athlete. I know you like me and I like you, and I want you to be mine without all the stupid lying. Why can’t you understand that?”

His words rushed through your body like burning fire, his accent getting thicker as he spoke, showing you exactly how genuine his passion was. But it didn’t change that fact that nothing could change. Even though he was confessing everything you were desperate to hear, matching your own feelings for him, because it was also everything you were trying to repress for your own good.

“It isn’t that easy,” you murmured, averting your eyes.

“So, what, I will be your dirty little secret forever? And you will do whatever your brother says, forever?”

“My brother is just trying to protect me because he loves me,” you shot back, glaring over at him.

Because this wasn’t about you being ashamed of him, or that your brother was a cruel person. You’d just messed up your love life one too many times for your brother to not want to be involved. It wasn’t that complicated.

“He loves you? Great! Well I love you too!”

Even with the anger that Andrei snapped those words at you, your whole body froze, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. And when Andrei realised what he said, he froze too, eyes wide as well as although his were wide in fear rather than in shock, as if he’d let slip something he never intended on saying.

“I didn’t…I mean, I-”

“You love me?” you managed to ask, voice soft in disbelief.

Andrei sighed but nodded, face crumpling in defeat, hanging his head to avoid looking at you.

“Andrei, I…”

You trailed off, running a hand through your unkempt hair, head swirling at his admission as all the fight drained from your body. Because how were you supposed to process this? This was everything you’d been trying to avoid, on every single level. This relationship you had with Andrei was just supposed to be a fun, fiery fling, free from any strings or expectations. And now he’d admitted his love for you, in the moment that you’d realised exactly how deep your love for him was?

What was any sane person supposed to do here?

The soft touch of Andrei’s hand resting on top of yours broke you out of your inner turmoil, and you looked over at him to see the saddest smile on his face, so unnatural in comparison to his usual happy expressions.

“I understand if you do not love me. I am sorry for putting pressure on you like that,” he said softly, smile weak, “we can pretend I didn’t say anything.”

What?

“And you’d just be happy to go back to how things were before, even with both of us knowing that it isn’t enough for you?” you asked, a little incredulous.

“If the other option is losing you entirely, then I can’t do that. I would rather have the smallest part of you, than nothing at all,” he shrugged, sad smile now reflecting the self-deprecation clearly fuelling his actions.

No, no this wasn’t okay. It wasn’t fair, not to him…and not to you. Here was a guy putting his heart and feelings on the line, believing that you were going to reject him anyway because of a few stupid mistakes you’d made in your past? A guy that treated you like no-one ever had before, brought you crashing waves of pleasure like no-one ever had before, and who cared for you like no-one ever had before? And who you cared for more than you ever had for anyone else? You were going to give up that chance of happiness, all because of a few worthless guys?

No, no way.

“I don’t want to go back to how things were before,” you said softly.

Hurt immediately flashed across his face before he quickly composed himself. “Right, okay. I’m sorry.”

It took you a few moments to realise what he meant, but when you finally did, you promptly shook your head.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I…”

You drew your bottom lip into your mouth as you struggled to choose the right words to say, Andrei just watching you with a hesitant expression that ever-so-slowly filled with confidence.

“You don’t want to be just a hook up?” he asked hopefully.

You shook your head, staying silent.

“You maybe want to be more?” he prompted again, a small smile spreading across his lips.

You bit your bottom lip before releasing it from your mouth, nodding shyly, earning a broad grin from the man sitting next to you.

“I need to hear you say it. Please, say it,” he pleaded softly, brown eyes wide and hopeful.

Inhaling shakily, you nodded again, looking down at your lap briefly to compose yourself before looking back at him, the hope in his eyes not having faded at all.

“I don’t know how we’re going to make it work. I don’t know how I’m going to convince my brother that this is going to work, that I’m not making another mistake. But I want to try, with you,” you said softly.

Once the words were past your lips, it felt like your blood was surging, the emotions of your confession all but overwhelming you, the hand that Andrei placed on your sheet-covered thigh the only thing that anchored you.

“You won’t regret this, I promise. I’m going to make you so happy, solnyshko,” Andrei said happily, the wide smile on his face sending butterflies soaring in your stomach.

Of that you had no doubt. No matter what happened, however your brother reacted, you knew in your heart that Andrei would be by your side, and that was enough to give you hope. His broad smile turned a little shy all of a sudden, piquing your interest as he rummaged in the sheets, clearly looking for something. And then your breath hitched in your throat as he drew out the box from earlier, delicately holding that beautiful diamond necklace.

“So if you’re mine and I’m yours, will you wear this?” he asked.

What a rush it was to hear those words.

“Right now?” you asked, confused.

He smiled sweetly, nodding, so you just nodded in return. Andrei smiled even wider, taking the necklace out of its box and unclasping it, leaning intimately closer to you as he fastened it around your neck. The cool stones sent a shiver across your heated skin, a different shiver zapping down your spine as Andrei’s finger lightly traced the edge of it, trailing across your collarbone to finish.

Unfair.

“How does it look?” you breathed.

You dropped the sheet you’d been holding to your chest the whole time you’d been sitting upright, revealing your bare body to him once more, the diamonds around your neck the only item you now wore. Andrei’s eyes darkened slightly, making your heart beat that little bit faster with the promise they held.

“Beautiful. You look beautiful,” he murmured.

When that familiar smirk crept across his lips, finally, you knew you were done for. He slowly crawled over to you, gently lowering your body back to the bed as he covered you with his own broad torso, eyes and hands and lips trailing over you in a tease that sent your blood swirling, and it was all you could do to lose yourself in his embrace.

No more secrets. No more hiding. Andrei Svechnikov was yours, and now the world was going to know.

#my writing #the winter fic exchange 2k23 #andrei svechnikov fic #i really hope you enjoy this anna!#andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov fanfic #nhl writing #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey fic

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comphy-and-cozy · 25 days

Text

The After Party II

Pairing: Brady Skjei x Reader (f) x Andrei Svechnikov

Summary: A year after your illicit tryst with your current fling and your ex-fling, you meet again. Part two to The After Party.

Word Count: 6.3K

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Light alcohol use/mention, swearing. Threesome (MFM - no MxM), fingering (vaginal + anal - f receiving), oral sex (m + f receiving (vaginal)), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, anal sex (f receiving), double penetration, mild cumplay. **Please do your research before engaging in any sexual activity but especially anal sex. This is fiction and by no means any indication of how one should prepare. :)

Author's Note: happy belated birthday, @smileysvech! I hope your bday gang bang 2.0 makes this year's celebration one to remember. thank you for being my biggest cheerleader and for all of your unwavering support. 😘🖤

nhl masterlist | moodboard

The party is unlike one you’ve ever been to. Like a themed sorority bid night, but with a much higher budget; the decor is elaborate, a sea of blacks and reds and glitter. Candles illuminate the room, making the atmosphere feel dark. Ornate. Indulgent.

Your boyfriend dons a black leather jacket and black jeans that accentuate his thick thighs. His jacket is completely unzipped, revealing more than a tantalizing sliver of his toned, golden muscles; they’re all but bare, the deep cut lines of his abdomen, an opportunity to show off his impressive body. The silver cross branded on his bare sternum is a stark contrast to the crown of thorns perched on his head. Judas.

Your dress contrasts his outfit entirely; lace and ivory wrapped around your body, the corset bodice hugging your figure. It’s demure, but the gold necklace—a 37 sitting prettily on your exposed chest—draws the eye down to your cleavage, a sexy twist to the otherwise sweet, shy, virtuous look. Thick, feathery wings glitter on your back, enhancing the angelic look, complete with a pretty, glittering rhinestone crown—symbolic of a halo.

A light to his dark, day to his night, heaven to his hell. Andrei’s angel.

His brand on you runs far deeper than his name etched onto your back at his games, and though your claim on him is invisible, he wears it proudly on his chest, seizing every opportunity to show you off as his girl. It’s been there since before he made you his girlfriend, officially, but it’s only grown since then in the last year that you’ve been together.

Tonight is no exception. Andrei’s hand lingers on your side, a silent message to anyone who would dare to question who you belong to. You’re not typically one for the whole possession thing, but you can’t deny him—not when he looks at you like that.

You mingle, sipping on your cocktail, enjoying the night of frivolity—one of the last before the final push of the season and preparation for playoffs begins. Nykki and Martin make their way to you two, and eventually, the two boys depart in favor of who knows what shenanigans.

Across the room, talking to two pretty leather-clad demons, is the handsome brunette from your past. His handsome, warm smile is plastered across his face, no doubt letting some pretty words doused in honey drip from his mouth. You ignore the pang of—something—that bubbles in your chest at the sight, not even wanting to spend the time identifying what it is.

As if he can sense it, his eyes glance up and lock with yours for the briefest of moments. A smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he lifts his beer to his mouth, winking so quickly you’re not sure if you imagined it. The next moment, he’s back to his flirtatious antics, laughing jovially at the taller of the two girls flanking either side of him.

You return to your conversation with Nykki, though you feel his gaze flitting back to you, burning a hole in your side, tempting you to look his way. Glittering disco balls hang from the ceiling, illuminating the walls with the light from the candles’ flames, and you ignore the urge to glance over at him again.

“Your outfit is so cute,” Nykki’s saying, fingers caressing the feathers on your wings. “And I love your wings!”

With a smile, you thank her. “I was going for a bit of a sexy angel vibe, you know?”

“I’m sure Andrei appreciates that very much,” she replies with a knowing smirk and a gentle nudge of your elbow. You chance a look back to the corner of the room, but the handsome brunette you’ve been making eyes at is gone; you don’t dare to turn your head to look for him, not standing next to Nykki.

Soon enough, she gets called away, and you’re left alone, uncomfortably vulnerable at a party where you still don’t quite feel like you belong, despite having attended several events as Andrei’s other half. Swirling the ice in your cocktail glass, you’re about to down the rest of your drink so that you can head back to the bar before you search for your boyfriend. As the rim of the glass touches your lips, you feel a looming presence approach your left side.

“Should’ve known you’d copy me,” says a voice that you know all too well. Out of instinct, your head turns and you’re blessed with the sight of Brady, up close and personal. His dark hair, peppered with gray, is messy, styled that way, a strand falling lazily in his face—he looks more like James Dean than an angel, with the suave and confident demeanor.

“I think I look way more angelic than you,” you say, eyeing the loosely buttoned linen top and expanse of his chest. He looks so effortlessly cool, the high-waisted, wide-legged ivory slacks hanging loosely as he’s leaned against the wall with an air of nonchalant swagger.

He watches you, a smug smile tugging at his lips. The beer bottle rests loosely between two fingers and his thumb. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Your face grows hot at the callout and your eyes dart away, embarrassed. You’re sure he’s smirking now, feeling the burn from his gaze.

“You do look beautiful, though.”

Brady’s voice is lower as he says it, almost like he’s dropped the confident, playboy facade. You thank him shyly, and in the blink of an eye, the curtain’s back up, the smirk plastered back on his face.

“Where’s your man?” he asks casually. He might as well have been glancing at his nails, but you have the feeling his question is far from innocent.

“Think he’s out playing Spikeball on the patio,” you reply, head craning to try and spot him through the window. He’s exactly where you thought, grinning after slamming the ball into the net, fist bumping Marty in celebration. You smile.

“And he left you alone? Looking like that?”

You shoot Brady a glance, the bold flirtation alerting you to his potential motives. It is his birthday, after all, and you certainly gave him a birthday to remember last year.

Your eyebrow raises. “What’s it to you?”

“Well,” he says, slipping a hand into his pocket, “I know if you were my girl, I’d be fucking you over the counter in the bathroom right now, dressed like that.”

Heat floods your body, white hot and scorching straight through your bloodstream at his blunt words. You sip at your drink, desperate for something to alleviate the dryness in your throat. “That’s not very angelic of you to say, Saint Skjei.”

“Aww, but baby, we both know you’re far from angelic. Don’t we?”

This time, in addition to the warmth on your cheeks, you also feel a deep throb between your legs. His words beckon a flashback of strong hands—4 of them—caressing your body, driving you to the height of pleasure; of the feeling of being so delightfully full.

“Baby, come outside and—oh, shit, hey, Skjeisy,” Andrei’s deep voice echoes, veering from his path to you to give his teammate a clap on his back. “Birthday brother.”

Brady offers your boyfriend a wide grin and a clink of his bottle against Andrei’s glass. Your cheeks burn as they flank you, tall and looming and so large compared to you. The memory of last year’s celebration lingers, flooding your mind with a foggy heat that suddenly makes it a little bit hard to breathe.

“What’re you up to?” he asks, looking at you with a smile, like he can see the mist clouding your brain. “What’d I miss?”

“Just telling your beautiful girlfriend how fuckable she looks,” Brady says, unabashed. If you weren’t used to his antics by now, you’d be surprised at his boldness.

Andrei pauses for the briefest of moments, registering the implication behind his friend’s words before he’s turning to look at you, a mischievous expression on his face. “She does, doesn’t she?”

By now, your pulse is racing, practically sweating under the heated gaze of both men standing before you. You watch both of their eyes roving over your figure, undoubtedly envisioning filthy things; you wonder if either of them notice the way your pulse beats in your throat.

“Malyshka, tell him what I told you earlier tonight.” Andrei’s command is gentle, light-hearted, but there’s a longing behind them.

Surging heat goes straight to your cheeks, burning at having to repeat Andrei’s words. You glance at him, and he nods encouragingly. So you swallow, murmuring, “Y-you said you were gonna fuck me how I deserved to be fucked tonight.”

Amusement flickers in Brady’s eyes, along with a blue flame that matches the one glowing inside you. “Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“Like the only girl lucky enough to fuck me on my birthday,” Andrei finishes for you. A statement of pride; pride in the ownership you have over him, too.

The fire in Brady’s irises grows, burning bright. You watch an entire cinema of filthy thoughts run through his mind; you’re sure all three of you are thinking the same thing—it’s Brady’s birthday, too. And you are a lucky, lucky girl.

Tension is thick in your little triangle, almost like you’re sizing each other up. Andrei’s eyes dance to yours, and he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, whispering in your ear, “You want him to come home with us, dorogoy?”

Your gaze locks with Brady’s, who couldn’t have heard your boyfriend’s question, but looks like he’s waiting for your answer all the same. Keeping your eyes on his melted chocolate ones, your only reply is a subtle nod, and you feel Andrei’s smile against your cheek.

Twenty minutes later, you step into Andrei’s apartment after the world’s most excruciating Uber ride with the heat of Brady’s leg pressed against yours, his hand drawing slow, teasing circles on the inside of your thigh. Andrei had sat in the passenger seat, making idle conversation with the driver, Brady chiming in regularly, as if he wasn’t driving you into a slow descent into insanity. It was almost enough to make you mad, had you not been spending all of your effort trying not to make a mess on the Uber’s leather seats.

You watch the way Brady’s eyes flare with heat when he follows the two of you into the kitchen, eyeing the quartz countertop. His eyebrow arches with a glance at Andrei, a silent message sent in the quiet of his apartment. The brunette slinks up beside you, a warm hand caressing your waist, and all at once you remember.

“I’d be fucking you over the counter in the bathroom right now, dressed like that.”

He catches your eye, a wink at you as if he knows you’re remembering his words. “So pretty.”

“So are you,” you whisper shyly. His lips curl into a grin, making him look even more handsome.

Brady stalks closer to you, all too similar to a predator stalking its prey; the only thing missing is David Attenborough’s dulcet tones, narrating his actions like a wildlife documentary. Despite the itch in the tips of your fingers to touch his skin, to drag your hands through his hair, you back away from him until you’re caught between the kitchen island and his large, looming body. Andrei seems content to watch the scene in front of him play out, standing behind you on the opposite side of the island.

“Wanna kiss you,” Brady says, voice barely above a whisper as his eyes move to your lips. Your throat bobs in anticipation as you feel the edge of the countertop pressed into your lower back, trapped between Brady’s body and the island. “Can I?”

You nod, but you see Brady’s eyes flick behind you, silently seeking approval from your boyfriend. Andrei must have given it, for the next moment, Brady’s smiling, hand moving to thread through the curls you’d styled earlier that day. His lips brush against yours, feather light, teasing, waiting.

The pause is agonizing, time momentarily standing still as your heart thuds against your chest before Brady finally, finally presses forward to kiss you fully. It’s sweet, far sweeter than the mischievous glint in his eye or the seductive lines he’d traced on your leg in the Uber; for a moment, he really is the angel he’s dressed as instead of the carefully hidden sinner’s persona.

It doesn’t take long for Brady to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as his hands move from your waist to knead at the globes of your ass. His lips curl upward as he swallows your moan, lifting you easily to set you on the countertop. Warm hands slide up the front of your bare thighs, pushing the skirt of your dress up to reveal bare, sensitive skin.

The shift in position allows you to press your body into him, knees settling on either side of his hips as he steps between your legs. Your makeout gradually shifts from sweet and timid to passionate and scorching, whimpers slipping out of your throat as his hands slide the straps of your wings off your shoulders.

Brady’s lips trail over your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine when his lips find the spot on your neck that makes your toes curl. Your head falls back, allowing him easier access to suck a mark into the tender skin. He places a hand behind your head, supporting your neck, guiding you slowly down onto your back.

The countertop is cool against your bare shoulders, your large, feathery wings no longer digging into your skin. You shiver, not from the temperature of the quartz, but the heat from Brady’s gaze as he tears his lips away from you, standing slowly. His hands blaze fire down your legs, trailing a fingertip lightly down your calf before grasping an ankle in each hand, making a slow show of spreading your legs.

“Forgot you like to wear these little tiny things you call underwear,” he muses, running a thumb along the sodden lace covering your modesty.

Andrei, no longer interested in sitting on the sidelines, lets his palm coast over your chest, over your breast, over the bunched up fabric from your skirt, feeling for himself what Brady describes. “You’re soaked already, malyshka.”

Already, just the touch of their hands on your body lights it on fire, and you sigh as Brady’s thumbs rub gentle circles into your calves. Your pulse quickens, nipples instantly hardening when Andrei pushes the top of your corset top down your torso, freeing your breasts. His hand offers a small reprieve from the cool air when it massages one of your breasts, humming approvingly at the way your spine arches into his touch.

“He’s good with his hands, isn’t he?” Brady coos.

You nod, and Andrei smirks at you. Lord knows how many times he’d brought you to a euphoric release with just his hands alone, skilled and strong and wicked in their promise. As if to prove the point, he pinches your peaked nipple between two fingers, earning a yelp from your mouth. But then his hand trails farther, two large fingers digging into the damp lace and tugging it to the side; you gasp quietly at the cool air that hits your most intimate area, the sound melding into more of a moan when you see the heat in Brady’s eyes as he gazes at your folds.

The dynamic is clear: Andrei, revealing you to his friend, presenting you on a platter—or, in this case, his kitchen counter.

“I didn’t get to taste you last time,” Brady comments, his voice low and husky. “Not really.”

Your core clenches at his words, anticipation buzzing through you. Brady smiles, licking his lips. Above you, Andrei nods once, and the brunette needs no more encouragement to sink lower until he’s eye-level with your cunt. He draws a finger through your center, collecting some of the dripping nectar with a click of his tongue.

“This for him,” he asks, jerking his head toward Andrei, who has resumed the gentle knead and massage of your breasts, “or me?”

Another pinch of your nipple has you whimpering. “Wh-who says it can’t be both?”

A low chuckle sounds from Brady’s throat, a smug smile curling up on his handsome face. “Knew you liked being shared, pretty girl, just didn’t know how much.”

He delves into your core like a man starved, long laves of his tongue ending with a flick against your sensitive clit. By instinct, your back arches and your hips raise to meet his mouth, seeking out more of the pleasure that blooms through your body as he presses his face against you. “So sweet, baby.”

Brady is good with his mouth, and he knows it. Expertly, he alters between flat licks of his tongue and sucking gently on your clit, with a precision only someone with experience can manage. It doesn’t take him long to remember what makes you tick, how you gush around his tongue when he slides it inside of you and fucks you with it.

Just as the energy starts to build deep within you, you’re crying out when he abruptly tears himself away from you. “Brady—”

“Hmm?” he asks, sharing an amused look with Andrei. “What’s wrong?”

“Need—need your mouth.” You can’t help the whine that accompanies your words, the desperation that crawls under your skin.

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

You lick your lips, guiltily glancing back to catch Andrei, an eyebrow raised and an amused smirk painted on his face.

“He has a nice mouth,” you say, as if to justify your unrestrained desire for the man who isn’t your boyfriend.

Andrei hums. “So do you, kisa. Can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Lay your head back for me.”

You do as told, and Andrei tugs you toward him a few inches so your head is leaning off of the countertop. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

Andrei leans down to kiss you, soft and slow, and you sigh into him, the familiarity of his mouth helping to alleviate some of your nerves; the pulse between your legs is all but forgotten under his attention. As he pulls away, he purses his lips, dropping a long, thick wad of saliva into your open mouth. You feel the slow drip of it against your tongue, slipping down your throat as you swallow obediently.

“Khoroshaya deovochka,” he murmurs as he stands to his full height. Good girl.

The praise makes your nipples tighten as you shiver. You can feel Brady’s hot breath on your inner thigh, can feel the heat from his gaze as he takes in the sight of your open, wet, waiting core. His lips against your skin makes you jolt slightly, a sigh breathed out against Andrei’s tip pressed against your lips.

“God, I missed eating this pretty pussy,” Brady says, his tongue flitting against your entrance, teasing you. You can feel the way your pussy throbs under his attention, like she knows she’s mere moments away from relief.

Andrei chuckles lowly, his eyes no doubt stuck on the brunette working his way between your thighs. Your own throat bobs in anticipation, waiting for Andrei to push his tip past your lips and into your open mouth.

Then, as if following a countdown that only they could hear, Brady’s fingers broach your eager entrance, simultaneous with the gentle push of Andrei’s length to meet your tongue. Swiftly, steadily, they fill you up with a practiced precision that makes your toes curl, the sensation so complete and fulfilling—pun intended.

Your Russian is patient, feeling the gasp as Brady works another finger into you before his hand slips into your hair, holding your neck steady while he presses his hips forward. He tests his own restraint, inching in and out while your mouth and throat accommodate and adjust to his size, your tongue flatting against the top of him.

Brady’s mouth joins his fingers, sure to catch the slick pooling around your entrance; he probes and teases with the tip of his tongue, taking his time to re-learn what makes your spine arch and the breath catch in your throat. He groans, exhaling lowly against your center, eyes fluttering closed as he savors the taste of you.

“So fucking sweet. Svech, do me a favor and fuck her face a little harder so I can feel her gush on my tongue.”

“Aye aye,” Andrei says with a smirk, a mock salute before his other hand is placed on the other side of your neck, stabilizing your face before he gently picks up the pace of his thrusts. Your eyes water at the intrusion, at the different angle of his cock in your throat, breathing steadily through your nose.

Soon enough, your boyfriend has a consistent rhythm, and any whine you want to let out is blocked by his length lodged in your airway. He hums, smugness dripping from his voice, “Love watching the outline of my cock in your throat, kisa. You take me so well.”

The praise alone makes heat surge to your core, right into Brady’s eager mouth, and he moans, choking out, “That’s it, baby.”

His pace picks up, directly correlating to the flutter in your belly, to Brady’s tongue and fingers working in tandem to drive you closer and closer to the edge. Your hips roll against his face, seeking out that delicious friction that will have you hurtling into euphoria. His head is too far to reach with your arms, so you occupy your hands by taking to your breasts, massaging and tweaking at your nipples while Andrei continues his rough thrusts. Streaks of saliva marr your face, frothy and wet, leaving filthy evidence on his usually pristine kitchen floor.

For a fleeting second, you wonder what this must look like; you, spread wide and waiting on your boyfriend’s counter, getting stuffed at both ends by two handsome, talented men, both eager to drive you to your peak. It’s the image of your body between them that has your release barreling through you, a choked groan sounding out despite the intrusion in your throat. Brady groans, mingled curses and praises slipping out while he works you through the waves of your climax.

Andrei doesn’t let up, not until Brady’s pulling away from the apex of your thighs, the scar on his chin coated with your orgasm. He helps you up, admiring the swell of your lips and the tear tracks on your face before he smiles and presses a wet, musky kiss against your lips. “So pretty. Even prettier when your face is a mess like this.”

“You wanna take her cunt this time? My treat.” Andrei asks with a grin wide enough to reveal his missing tooth.

“I’d be honored,” Brady says with a mock nod of his head, his eyes flicking to yours with a mischievous grin.

“C’mon, malyshka,” Andrei murmurs, lifting you easily in his arms to take you into the bedroom. He deposits you on the bed, positioning you to leave room for Brady to follow and kneel before you. Your eyes draw to the bulge in his pants, the thin fabric doing little to hide his modesty as Andrei helps you to remove what’s left of your costume.

“You want it?” he asks in a teasing tone.

“You got to taste me,” you say, blinking up at him. “It’s only fair I get to return the favor.”

Andrei sniggers at your quick remark. “So eager, my pretty little slut.”

The name sends heat coursing through your body, radiating particularly between your legs. Brady moves to remove his expensive trousers, and soon, you’re presented with a mouth-watering view of his very impressive, very erect length. Your tongue slips out to lick your lips, eager to feel the weight of him in your mouth.

Of course, Brady can’t resist teasing you, gripping himself loosely as he taps his tip against your cheek. Your mouth opens, impatient, but he doesn’t give you what you want; not yet. Instead, he drags the head across your lips, slow, teasing, agonizing.

“What a good girl,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself, but then he winks at you. “So obedient.”

Brady’s instruction is simple, just a soft, “tongue out,” before he’s running his tip over it, pressing himself firmly against your tongue. You sigh out at the taste of him, precum already dripping onto your waiting taste buds, earnestly wrapping your lips around his tip as you take him into your mouth.

Beside you, Andrei draws the slightest attention back to himself by divesting himself of his clothes, dropping unceremoniously to the floor. You feel a warm, large hand running along the curve of your ass, giving the flesh a squeeze before his fingers probe lightly at your entrance, testing the slickness he finds there.

As you work at Brady’s length, jaw opening wider to fit more of him into your mouth, Andrei’s hand slides up just a few inches higher, and all at once the agreement from earlier sinks in.

If Brady was going to fuck your pussy, then that means…

Almost like he’s reading your mind, Andrei chuckles behind you when you gasp with realization. Not long after, the pad of his finger presses gently against the tight bud, teasing and prodding. For a brief moment, you tear yourself away from Brady to crane your head, just in time to see Andrei spitting onto his fingers, coating them with his saliva before bringing his hand back down to your backside. He smirks at you, then winks at Brady as his first finger teases you, your mouth falling open at the feeling—not enough.

But Brady clears his throat, not pleased with the lack of attention, and his hand gently turns your head back to face him. “Back to work, sweet girl.”

Ever eager to serve, you do as you’re told, only this time, you moan around Brady’s length as Andrei presses the tip of his finger past the puckered ring. Slowly, he eases it in, carefully testing the depth with slow, gentle pulses as your body relaxes to the foreign sensation. Your tongue lolls against Brady, whimpering as you do your best to stay focused on him.

Whether it’s to help you or just to show some dominance, you aren’t sure, but soon Brady’s hand is threading through your hair, gripping it into a ponytail at the base of your skull. Slowly, he pushes your head forward, watching the way his length slides between your lips. The beautiful brown of his eyes lock with yours, monitoring your reaction as he gradually increases the pace. His hold is firm, the tug on your hair just hard enough to have you shivering.

Soon enough, he’s fucking your throat, and Andrei’s eased two fingers into you, priming you for what’s to come. Spit, drool, and tears track your face, a frothy mixture pooling at your lips when Brady finally pulls out. He smiles, admiring his handiwork. “Love that throat of yours.”

Andrei hums behind you, his thumb brushing against your clit and nearly making you jump. “Baby, you’re dripping. You like when Brady fucks that pretty mouth?”

You nod, licking your lips with a smile. Brady winks at you. “Love fucking all of your holes, darlin’.”

A fresh wave of heat gushes between your legs, accompanied by a slap to your ass and a Russian curse. His fingers flex inside of you gently working you open. “Get to it, then,” you challenge him.

“Aw, baby, I’m flattered,” he says with another smug smile. “But I think I want to watch that pretty boyfriend of yours fuck your pretty little ass first.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you turn to look at Andrei as he’s retrieving his bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer. The liquid is cold on your skin, warmed quickly by his hand, finger pressing into you. He eases you open, adding another finger, and then another, until he deems you ready for his more than considerable length.

“Ready, malyshka?”

You cast a glance at Brady, who smirks at you with darkened eyes, like the sight of you on your hands and knees and three fingers in your ass is nearly sending him over the edge. “Fuck me, Drei.”

When Andrei presses into you, you wince at the stretch as you adjust to the sensation. He sucks in a breath, murmuring a low curse in Russian. Gripping your sides, his hands squeeze tightly as he waits patiently for your approval to keep going.

Brady hums as he greedily drinks in the sight of you. He murmurs low, filthy promises to you, watching intently as Andrei patiently pushes deeper; your mouth falls open as your body adjusts to the stretch, his more-than-adequate width nearly enough to make your eyes cross.

“Doin’ so good for me,” is Andrei’s gentle purr, groaning as he starts low, shallow thrusts. Your fingers grip into the bedsheets, gasping out. By the time he’s thrusting at a steady pace, tears are already pricking at your eyes from how blissfully sinful it feels, his tip directly nudging into the spot that makes you see stars.

Andrei fucks you thoroughly, until you’re a mumbling, shaking mess. Your body arches as his large hand traces its way down your spine, coming to rest at the base of your neck; he presses you down into the mattress, just slightly, just enough to make your breathing a bit more labored. He leans forward, too, and you cry out when the action shifts his cock even deeper inside of you. Lips dot gentle kisses against your shoulder blades, accompanied by slow, shallow thrusts as your body trembles beneath him.

“Come,” is all he says; a command and a plea all at once. He doesn’t have to say anything else, only keep his movements steady until you cry out loudly as your release radiates through every bone in your body.

Your Russian is patient, coaxing out the final waves of your orgasm as your thighs tremble from the force of it. Brain foggy, you register the feeling of fingers carding through your hair, soothing you as your vision begins to come back to you. Soon enough, you float back into reality and Andrei smiles, warm enough to feel your heart start to melt at the sight.

“C’mere,” he says, wrapping his arms solidly around you and falling onto his back, bringing you with him. Brady’s figure steps between your legs, large and looming, his eyes glued to where Andrei’s cock is still stuffed deep inside your hole. All at once, the warmth in your heart quickly turns back into desire, and your core flutters.

“You gonna fuck me, too?” Your voice is laced with challenge, a teasing lilt in your tone.

“You want me to fuck you?” Brady quips, a dark eyebrow raised in amusement. “Want me to fuck this tight little cunt?”

“S’your birthday gift,” you say, and Andrei chest shakes with a chuckle beneath your back. Brady smiles, his eyes dragging to the place in question, spread open and waiting for him.

“Lucky me,” is his hummed response, moving his hand forward to rub a slow circle over your clit with his thumb. You whine, and Andrei pinches your sides in a silent command, holding you steady. He presses a kiss against your shoulder, his weight solid and strong beneath you—holding your body up without any effort, it seems. One of the many, many benefits of having a boyfriend who is a Big Boy.

Brady snaps your attention back to him when he steps closer to the apex of your thighs, fisting his erection as he lines himself up. His eyes, brown and molten, are transfixed on the way the tip of his cock slips into your eager and waiting entrance; he lets out a grunt at the feeling of your tight heat wrapped around him.

You, on the other hand, are completely speechless—you’ve forgotten how to speak entirely, only nonsensical babbling slipping from your mouth. The feeling has you unable to focus on any one thing, consumed by how fucking good it feels to have both of them buried deep.

The two men work in sync, wordless, the same silent telepathy that they used earlier. In. Out. In. Out. Pleasure blossoms between your legs, tingly and warm as it spreads through your core, up your limbs, to the tips of your fingers and toes; you aren’t sure where you end and they begin.

“Kisa,” Andrei’s deep voice rumbles beneath you, murmuring lowly in your ear. “Feel good?”

You open your mouth to reply—yes, God, yes—but all that comes out is a jumbled moan, lilted higher when Brady presses in just that little bit deeper. He laughs, thumbs gripping your thighs tightly as he holds you open. “You kidding, Svech? Your girl loves being stuffed full of dick. These slutty little holes are drooling all over us.”

Brady’s words earn a low flutter—whether in your belly or in another area, you aren’t quite sure—but based on the growl that slips from Andrei, you’re inclined to believe the latter. His hand slinks up your side to massage at your breast, the other branding fingertip-shaped marks into your hip. “That true, dorogoy?”

Because your brain is in the process of being fucked into mush, it’s all you can do to nod, a weak, “Yes” tumbling out of your mouth. His breath is hot against your shoulder, murmurs of Russian curses low in your ear. “How lucky am I, huh? My gorgeous girl, treating me and my friend so good on our birthday.”

The deep purr of praise is like a catalyst to the heat in your veins, setting it ablaze through every cell in your body. Your back arches off of Andrei’s warm torso, and this time you’re sure that you clench tightly around both of them.

“Drei,” you sigh, “please.”

“Please, what?”

“C-come… make me… c-come—”

Brady smiles while his thumb resumes the same steady, circular motion on your clit, like he can’t decide if he’s amused or turned on at your desperate plea. For Andrei, though, it’s no laughing matter; suddenly, his thrusts become even steadier, more sure. He’s determined, hips setting a metronome that contrasts Brady’s pace, speeding up ever so slightly.

When your climax hits, it’s like time stands still: your breath, frozen in your lungs, mouth open in a silent scream, a snapshot taken just as the fire ignites at the place where Andrei and Brady meet inside of you. Your body tenses, spine rigid as your legs begin to shake in Brady’s strong hands, doing little to absorb the ripple effect of your orgasm.

“Shiiiiit,” the brunette groans, amid the mish mash of Russian and English pouring from Andrei’s mouth as his hips slow to a halt, content to feel the way your body writhes and reacts to him.

“Think we need to do this more often,” Andrei says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice; you can see it reflected in Brady’s eyes, predatory, devouring the sight of you below him. He doesn’t need to voice his agreement out loud; it’s clear in the way he can barely resist pulling out of you to help you onto shaky feet, then to your knees on the floor.

With a blink, your gaze floats up between Andrei and Brady, standing over you, each fisting their lengths, glistening with you. Your hands dance their way up your body, brushing your hair out of the way before returning to cup your breasts. “Happy birthday, boys.”

Brady’s eyes darken and Andrei allows a low growl at the sight of you, your breasts pressed together like the sexiest canvas they’ll ever see. Both of them work their hand over their dicks, varying in speed but sharing the same intensity—the same kind of unrestrained desperation, stretching themselves for the final sprint to the finish line.

Andrei’s deep groan comes first, ropes of his release splattering across your decolletage, dripping down into the cleavage you offer. A sharp curse from Brady’s mouth precedes his own peak, cum landing on your chin before sliding down and dripping onto your chest. Your boyfriend’s eyes glitter, watching the drips meld together into a mixture of one.

Without a word, Andrei steps toward you, crouching slightly to run his hands across your chest, gathering some of the cum onto his fingers. His eyes lock with yours and, in silent reply to his silent question, your mouth opens obediently, allowing him to press his first and middle past your lips, pressing onto your tongue.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” Brady says, voice a combination of a chuckle and a groan. You suck on his digits, swallowing the salty mixture of them with a flourish.

“Angel,” Andrei muses, making sure you lap every last bit of cum off of his fingers. “She’s an angel.”

———

Bonus mini scene inspired by this video:

That weekend, you’re scrolling on social media when the Canes pregame video pops up. It autoplays, and your eye immediately catches the salt and pepper hair, your heart fluttering a little bit at the sight. Then Andrei’s on the screen, and you’re smiling at seeing him feeling so confident and in his element—he’s where he belongs.

But then you hear Brady say, “What a night!” followed by a loud laugh from Andrei, and your heart stops. They wouldn’t…

It takes another few replays to hear that Brady also says, “It’s a pleasure.”

When Andrei gets home later that night, high from a shutout win and clinching an official playoff spot, his wide smile fades slightly at the sight of you on the bed with your arms folded over your chest.

“Wh–?”

“Tell me what you whispered to Brady before the game,” you say, a glint in your eye.

Your boyfriend pauses, reflecting, then smirks when the memory comes back to him. His eyes flick to yours and his eyebrow raises. “You really wanna know?”

A pointed look is your only reply.

“I told him you still can’t walk today.”

SIMILAR CONTENT:

Sundress Season* Glittery* A Night in Paris*

#andrei svechnikov fic #brady skjei fic #hockey fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #nhl fic #andrei svechnikov x reader #brady skjei x reader #hockey smut #nhl smut

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starry-hughes · 5 months

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bah humbug (andrei svechnikov)

day 11 of star’s ficmas

andrei svechnikov x reader

Andrei didn’t understand why you were so adverse to staying in his apartment. He had been staying at your apartment for a couple of days now when he could. You would get weird about staying at his place and he didn’t understand why.

“What are you doing?” you almost shouted as Andrei was leaning down to unplug your Christmas tree for the night. Your apartment had been decorated since November 1st. A decorated Christmas tree, stockings hanging on the TV stand, tinsel everywhere, Christmas blankets on the couch. Andrei didn’t exactly like decorating for everything.

He was a bit of a humbug during the holidays. For the first holiday season you shared with him, you chalked it up to the fact that he was missing his family and home. But then, he just wouldn’t decorate. His apartment was always clean and the only decorations was a framed photo of you and him in the living room above the tv.

“Turning off the tree for bed?”

You shook your head, “No! It has to stay on! It’s supposed to shine pretty at night!”

His eyebrows furrowed together but he let it go. You were in your pajamas, Christmas pajama pants and one of Andrei’s shirts. “My place tomorrow night?” he questioned as the two of you made your way to your bedroom. You shrugged, it wasn’t that you hated his apartment. His bed was much softer than yours and Andrei had a shorter drive to the rink from his apartment. You just hated being in the apartment without decorations.

“Maybe. Can we get a Christmas tree for your place?”

Andrei thought for a second. “You don’t like staying there? Because no decorations?”

You nodded sheepishly. “I don’t feel like you’re in the holiday spirit! Your apartment is so… what did that tweet say after the Halloween pictures? It feels sterile! Like so clean and no personalization!”

“Clean is good! And I have the picture of us!”

“Just let me decorate?”

He narrowed his eyes at you as you crawled into bed, covering yourself up in the blankets. “No, it’s too late to decorate anyway, not worth it.”

Your mouth gaped. “It’s not too late!”

Andrei always had you check in on his apartment when he was on a roadie. He was gone for practically a week. You unlocked his door, checking in on the apartment he left in perfect condition. Dishes put away, shoes neatly stacked on the rack by the door.

You didn’t mean to buy a lot of decorations, but you were dragging a heavy Christmas tree box up to his apartment with bags full of additional decorations. Oh Andrei was going to kill you when he got home. His apartment was decorated everywhere. You tried to pick up random pieces of tinsel that fell off as you put it up. You cringed after getting glitter on his couch.

Andrei wasn’t expecting you to offer to pick him up from the airport. He typically got a ride with one of the other guys but you had offered to pick him up. You nervously tapped on your steering wheel as Andrei got into the car and greeted you with a hard kiss. You were pretty quiet on the ride to his apartment which he found odd.

“Okay, don’t kill me, but I decorated your apartment.”

Andrei cocked an eyebrow, “You what?”

You sighed, “You always get into a humbug mood! It crushes my holiday spirit! I had to do something about it.”

Andrei entered his apartment behind you. Eyes landing on all the decorations. He barely recognized his own apartment. “If you want, I can take it all down,” you whispered but Andrei pulled you to him. “You did all this for me?”

You nodded, face turning red. He mumbled an ‘I love you’ in his native language before kissing you. “No more humbug?” you pulled away from the kiss. “No humbug.”

#star’s ficmas #andrei svechnikov blurb #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine

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uluvjay · 4 months

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Christmas tree farm- A. Svechnikov

Andrei Svechnikov x fem! Reader

In which you and svech go to pick a tree but he has a little something more planned..

Warnings?; none really, pure fluff, crying, kisses, a bit rushed sorry

Day 8 of my ficmas celebration!

For as long as you could remember coming to the Christmas tree farm with your family had always been your favorite part of the year, and now you get to do it with your boyfriend Andrei.

For the past four years you two have came to the same farm you went to growing up to pick a tree, you’d find the perfect one and Andrei would chop it down for you.

This year you were picking a tree for your first home together rather than the tiny apartment you two had been living In for the past four years.

“How tall are the ceilings again?” You questioned, turning to Andrei

“Nine feet.” He smiled.

“So we can get a bigger one this year?” You beamed

“Yes, you can get a bigger one.” He laughed as you clapped your hands happily and took off towards the taller trees.

Andrei smiled as he watched your frame get further and further from him, his hand tightly clenching around the velvet box in his pocket.

He eventually found you by the eight footers, hand on your chin as you inspected each one.

“See one you like yet?” He questioned, one of his hands coming to wrap around your waist and pull you into him.

“The one on the far left so far, it’s fluffy and the perfect height I think.” You smiled, leaning into his body.

He inspected the tree that you had mentioned, his eyes examining how it had the same fluff as all your trees previous but was just taller.

“I like it.” He smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, think it’s the one.” He confirmed watching your face as you looked over them all again.

“I think so too.” You smiled.

After chopping the tree down the two of you made your way to the front, netting the tree and putting it on top of his suv before heading back in to get some hot chocolate and walk around the rest of the farm.

“Hey come this way.” Andrei called, his hand wrapping around yours as he lead you to the trees they had lit up for pictures.

“Are you gonna take our picture?” You laughed.

“No I heard they had a photographer here today” he spoke looking around.

“Really? They’ve never had one before.” You spoke a bit confused.

“Maybe it’s new” he smiled and soon a woman approached you two asking if you wanted your pictures done.

“That would be great, thank you.” Andrei spoke as he pulled you into his side and you both began to smile at the camera.

However after the third shot Andrei had pulled away and when you looked over you watched him drop to a knee and pull something from his pocket.

“Wh-what is happening?” You spoke as you felt the tears beginning To fill your waterline.

“Y/n these last five years with you have been absolutely amazing, every year we come here and pick a tree and I want to do that with you forever. I want to walk this farm every year to find you a perfect tree, I want every Christmas with you, and eventually a family of our own. I want you forever, will you marry me?.”

“Yes! God yes” you cried, tackling him into a hug before he could even stand on two feet.

His strong arms wrapped around you tightly, holding on so tight as if you were going to slip away.

“I love you so much.” You spoke as he finally pulled away to slip the beautiful diamond on your left hand.

“I love you more.” He smiled pulling you into a soft kiss.

Cheers from behind you pulled you out of your bubble of bliss, turning around you found your friends and family gathered together. Your parents crying while friends and teammates yelled out congratulations.

Even the ‘photographer’ was behind her camera crying, a big smile on her face as she watched you two.

“You hired a photographer to?” You smiled.

“Had to make it perfect.” He laughed pulling you into another kiss.

“Everything you do is perfect Mr. Svechnikov.” You laughed.

“You’re perfect Mrs. Svechnikov.” He smirked down at you.

#andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov #nhl #nhl fanfiction #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fluff #jay’sficmas

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 1 month

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a/n: so. this wasn’t a fic i planned on writing but kind of needed to, in order to just process some shit. i had the same thyroid surgery a couple of years ago, but only had half of it out at the time. i recently had a little bit of a scare that there was something going on with the remaining half (there wasn’t, i’m all good!!) but i sat down ready to write a different andrei fic and this one came out instead 😬 it’s kind of funny, because i wanted to post an andrei fic on the one year anniversary of posting that first andrei fic and it weirdly worked out that this fic is an opposite of that first one - andrei taking care of reader as opposed to her taking care of him after the acl injury. anyway, stupidly long note over and just one final thing: i have been so grateful and blessed by all the love for my hockey fics this past year and i’m looking forward to writing more fun fics for you guys 🤍

word count: 6.6k

tw: cancer mention, surgery mention, incisions and scarring mention

summary: when you have a medical scare, it’s andrei’s turn to take care of you

You manage to keep your emotions under control and locked away until you get home and Andrei’s head pops up over the back of the couch, television remote in hand, smile on his face as he asks, “how was your day?”

The words are barely out of his mouth before you’re bursting into hysterical tears, sobs wracking your entire body. Your bag slips off your shoulder and lands on the floor with a thump and you can’t see Andrei’s face fall in fear through your tears. But a second later, his arms are strong around your body, his chest solid under your cheek as he crushes you in a hug.

You’re grateful for it, for his solid presence, because the second he touches you, your knees buckle and he’s the only thing keeping you standing.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Andrei’s voice is thick with fear, one large hand stroking the back of your head. His voice shakes when he asks, “did someone die?”

You manage a shake of your head against his chest, breath hiccuping out of your chest. Your lungs feel tight and you’re pretty sure you’re not getting enough oxygen in on your shaky, shallow breaths. Andrei pulls back slightly and cradles your face in his hands, fingers gripping just slightly too tight. The pressure grounds you and even though you’re still sobbing, your breathing feels easier.

“Solnyshka, please, what’s happening?” Andrei studies you with worried eyes, his accent stronger than usual. His thumbs swipe over your cheeks, like windshield wipers getting rid of your tears. “You’re scaring me.”

“D-doctor called,” you manage to choke out and Andrei’s grip on your face gets tighter. Your stomach swirls with nausea and you’re afraid that you might vomit on him.

Andrei mutters a curse under his breath, your reaction isn’t for good news.

You raise a shaky hand to your mouth and press your fingertips against your lips, muffling your voice as you choke out a fragmented sentence, “b-biopsy was, um, it’s - they said. Oh fuck, um, c-cancer.”

The word hangs in the air between your bodies, dropped like a bomb.

Andrei’s eyes go wide and he stares at you, jaw going slack. “Fuck,” he grits out the curse and you press the heels of your palms into your eye sockets, hard, until you see little white starbursts.

One of his hands slides down the side of your jaw until his thumb is right over the lump just above your collarbone, the cause of your tears. He’d been the one to notice it months ago, pressing a kiss to your skin and mumbling that something felt off. You’d brushed him off, like an idiot, thinking it was nothing until he had mentioned it again a few weeks later, noting that it was bigger. Twice more he had to comment on it before you went to your doctor, starting down a path of blood draws, ultrasounds, CT scans, and most recently, a biopsy.

You feel like an idiot for waiting so long.

Andrei’s lips meet your forehead, a warm kiss stabilizing you. He mumbles something against your skin and wraps his arms around you again in a tight hug. You lean heavily against him, mind going a mile a minute, your doctor’s words ringing in your ears. Without realizing it, Andrei gently ushers you up to your room, helping you strip off your clothes and turning on the shower for you. You blink at him and he cups your cheek.

“Shower,” he says, voice hoarse. “Clean the day off, yes? Then we figure it out. Together.”

You nod, wiping at the tears still sliding down your cheeks. “Please don’t leave?” Your voice cracks. You don’t think you can be alone with your thoughts right now. “Just…just tell me about something. Anything.”

“Okay,” he nods and leans against the countertop, arms crossed over his stomach. He’s quiet for a few moments while you get situated in the shower, hot water running over your face. You splutter out the water when it fills your mouth and tears well up in your eyes again. Andrei’s eyes study you as he slowly begins to tell you about practice, clearly trying to remember each and every little detail that he can to try and distract you.

It sort of works, drawing a faint laugh when he tells you about Pyotr’s latest adventure in the crease, but also your brain can’t stop thinking about the c-word. It’s a constant loop in your brain - “I’m sorry, the biopsy was positive for malignant cells. Thyroid cancer. I’m scheduling you for an appointment in two days to discuss the plan going forward.”

Without you really participating, still in a daze, Andrei turns the shower off and bundles you in a towel, rubbing his hands up and down you arms to get some warmth in your body. He guides you into the bedroom and quickly helps you into sweats, bundling you up under the covers before climbing in next to you and pulling you close so your chest is flush against his.

“You’re shaking,” he comments, squeezing you tightly. Your head is tucked under his chin, nose pressed against his neck.

“She didn’t say,” you mumble, cutting yourself off. “What if it’s - what if it’s bad?”

Andrei shakes his head above you and his fingertips draw nonsense patterns on your back. “It won’t be,” he says firmly.

“But what if it is?” You press him in a shaky voice. “What if I’m like, just -“

“Stop,” he says shortly, interrupting your spiral. You shut your mouth with a little snap. “When do you see doctor again?”

“Two days,” you reply. “The first appointment, eight in the morning.”

Normally your doctor is booked up weeks in advance. The fact that she’s squeezing you in last minute only makes your heart beat faster, nausea churn in your stomach. It must be bad, for her to make sure you get in quickly. If it weren’t, wouldn’t she just let you schedule a normal appointment?

Andrei’s talking, but you don’t hear him over your spiralling thoughts. “Sorry,” you tap on his chest, drawing his attention. “I wasn’t- what were you saying?”

He kisses the crown of your head. “You can have breakfast before? I’ll take you for coffee before we go to the appointment. Is the office near that coffee shop you like?”

“You - wait,” you’re still not really processing what he’s saying, too hung up on cancercancercancer.

“Breakfast before your appointment,” Andrei repeats. His legs tangle with yours.

“You don’t have to -“ you start to say, shaking your head. He doesn’t need to be burdened with your medical stuff now.

Andrei interrupts you with a little pat to your ass. “I’m coming with you, final. No arguing, solnyshka,” his cheek rests against your head and you can feel his hands tremble a little against your back.

“Okay,” you murmur. “No arguing. But you might be late for practice…I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

The thought of going to your appointment alone is terrifying though and you’re grateful that Andrei offered, that you didn’t have to ask. Because you wouldn’t have asked, not when you know he’s busy and distracted with the season. Not when you’re an adult and should be able to handle this on your own.

“Leave to me,” he says. “I’ll handle, okay? Just try to relax now and then we’ll have dinner.”

“I can’t eat,” you reply immediately, your stomach lurches violently. The thought of food is enough to have you ready to rush for the toilet. Frankly, you’re surprised you haven’t already vomited from the sheer anxiety of the situation.

“Then you can watch me eat,” Andrei jokes, surprising a weak giggle from you. You can feel his cheek move against the top of your head with a smile and allow yourself to focus on the steady beat of his heart under your cheek until you fall into a fitful, unsatisfying sleep.

The next day drags and speeds by and before you know it, you’re waking up at 4:30 in the morning on the day of your appointment. You try to stay quiet on your side of the bed, so you don’t wake Andrei up - there was a game last night and he’d gotten home late - but he’s more attuned to you than you realized. His hand slides over your hip, squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into the dark. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

His eyes are still shut and his voice is low and hoarse with sleep, but Andrei’s lips curl up in a sleepy, lazy smile. “Didn’t wake me,” he mumbles into the pillow as his hand finds yours. You lace your fingers with his, feeling the ridges of his knuckles with the pads of your fingers. “Don’t want you nervous alone.”

“Thanks,” you manage to choke out the word around the lump of emotion lodged in your throat. Andrei tugs on your hand and you slide closer to him, letting him tuck you under his arm and bury his face in your neck.

“Sleep again. Alarm is set,” his breath is warm on your skin and his arm is a heavy, reassuring weight over your stomach. You close your eyes and let yourself mimic Andrei’s slow, steady breathing. It’s not easy and your brain continues whirling a mile a minute, thinking about the lump on your neck, the possible treatment, possible long term effects. You just wish you knew already how bad it is.

Andrei grunts next to you, blowing little pieces of hair from your face. “Stop thinking, solnyshka. You’re going to start a fire with all your thoughts,” he kisses your shoulder and pulls you closer, crushing you against his side so tightly it’s almost hard to breathe. You focus on the weight of his arm and the heat of his body until you can feel your heartbeat slow down.

The next time you wake up, it’s to an empty bed and the smell of eggs and bacon in the air. You yawn and stretch out, turning your head to see the time on your Hatch. 6:45, a much more reasonable time to be awake.

A pit sits heavy in your stomach and you scrub a hand over your face, swallowing harshly around the lump in your throat. Just over an hour until you really know what you’re dealing with.

You can hear Andrei moving around in the kitchen and with a heavy sigh, you push yourself out of bed and move on auto-pilot to get ready for the appointment. You take time with your hair and makeup, feeling a little bit better once you start looking like a human again.

“Hi,” you greet Andrei quietly once you head down to the kitchen. He looks up from where he’s scrolling on his phone while eating his first breakfast of eggs and bacon.

“Morning,” he opens one arm for you to come and lean against him. You rest your head on his shoulder and he kisses the top of your head. “Sleep well?”

You lift one shoulder in a shrug and Andrei chuckles a bit. “Snored and drooled all over me,” he teases, “so it was a rhetorical question.”

“I did not!” You protest, a spark of energy flaring while you defend yourself. You push back from Andrei’s side and squint at him, a little pout on your lips.

“Did too,” Andrei grins and when he grabs your chin in his hand to draw you in for a kiss, you know he provoked you on purpose and is happy with the result.

You exhale a scoff through your nose when he pulls back, shit-eating grin still on his face. “Terrible man,” you murmur affectionately.

His grin turns smirky and his hand slides down to rest against the curve of your ass. He pats lightly, a little frisson of heat traveling through your body at the contact. You sigh and lean into him again, not looking forward to leaving the little bubble of your home.

At the coffee shop, you pick at the cinnamon scone Andrei had forced into your hands, crumbs littering the tabletop as you shred it with your fingers. Andrei studies you, chewing on the black plastic straw in his iced white chocolate mocha. You’re startled when he abruptly asks, “where do you want to go this summer?”

Crumbs skitter across the table when your fingers jolt and you blink at him, hands frozen in midair. “What?” You ask, shaking your head and processing. It clicks a second later and you continue, “I…I can’t think about the summer, Drei. I just need to get through today.”

He keeps chewing on the straw and you can’t help but watch his lips as they move. “Solnyshka, when this is over and you’re not going anywhere on vacation, you’ll tell me that we should have planned something,” he smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “So, where do you want to go this summer?”

Tears prickle at your eyes, again, overwhelmed by Andrei’s thoughtfulness. Pausing for time and to make sure your voice isn’t shaky when you do speak, you look down at the massacred scone and brush your fingers together to get rid of the crumbs on your fingers. “Um,” you clear your throat, “I don’t know, really. Nykki and Martin love Mauritius. Maybe there?”

“Whatever you want,” Andrei agrees easily, slurping at his drink. He pushes the napkin with a larger chunk of scone on it towards you. “Eat,” he demands, tone firm.

You take a small bite, just to appease him, but the pastry tastes like sawdust in your mouth.

Andrei holds your hand throughout the entire appointment and you’re grateful for his presence, because you can’t focus on anything your doctor says after ‘stage I papillary thyroid cancer’ and ‘surgery’ and ‘radioactive iodine treatment, just to be sure.’ He squeezes your fingers tighter and tighter as your doctor talks, pointing out something on the black and white images of your ultrasound and CT scan. The blurry blobs could be anything and you honestly have no idea what she’s pointing at.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, blood rushing like you’re underwater, as she explains the surgery you’ll be undergoing. A thyroidectomy to remove your entire thyroid and the cancerous lymph nodes. In and out in the hospital, a straight line cut across your lower throat. A scar unless you’re good with applying Vitamin E oil or Mederma. Possible damage to your vocal cords, but that’s very rare.

“What does your schedule look like in the next month?” She asks, briskly but not unkindly.

You blink at her and shake your head slightly. Andrei looks at you, waiting for an answer. “I, um,” you pause, trying to mentally access your calendar, “I’m open. I just…have to put in the leave time at work.”

“Good,” she says, looking down at the paper calendar on her desktop and running her finger over the boxes, “we’ll schedule your thyroidectomy for a week and a half from today, that’s a lighter day for me. All the pre-op information will be in your portal and we’ll go from there on scheduling the rest of your treatment. Any questions?”

A million.

“No,” you murmur, “um, not right now.”

“Can I stay with her?” Andrei leans forward to ask. “When she has surgery?”

“You can wait in the waiting room while she’s under,” your doctor replies. “And once she’s out of the anaesthesia and discharged, you’ll have to drive her home. She won’t be able to drive for a day or so while the anaesthesia really works out of her system.”

You’re shaking your head. “No, you have work. You have practice and games, someone else will drive me. I’ll ask Nykki…”

“No,” Andrei turns to you with wide brown eyes. “I’ll drive you. I’ll be there, solnyshka.”

You shake your head again, but keep quiet because you don’t want to have a fight with Andrei in front of the doctor. The rest of the appointment is routine scheduling and you leave with your head swimming and a surgery date burned into your brain.

You’re quiet the rest of the day and Andrei doesn’t push you to talk, instead trying to go about your routine as normally as possible. He’s missed practice - “personal reasons” Rod’s quoted as saying on Twitter, but “nothing that will prevent him from playing tomorrow.”

The next week and a half feels like a blur - you’re distracted and anxious with Andrei playing three games in seven days, two of them on the road, taking him away from you. He’s back the day before your surgery and doesn’t say anything when you greet him at the door with a tight hug and cling to him for the rest of the night, your stomach growling since you can’t eat, both from the anxiety and the pre-surgical requirements.

“Are you sure about missing the game tomorrow?” You ask later, when it’s dark and you’re buried under the blankets. “I feel -“

“Don’t feel bad,” Andrei rubs small circles over your back. “I made decision. Rod understands. You are more important than the game and the boys promised to win for you.”

A soft giggle escapes into the air and some of your guilt along with it. You hate that Andrei’s missing the game, hate that he’s missing it for you. You hate that everyone seems to know your personal business too, but you know Andrei had needed to talk about what you’re going through too.

His other hand moves up to your scalp and scratches gently, tension seeping from your shoulders. “Get some sleep,” he kisses your cheek. “Early day tomorrow.”

“I love you,” you whisper. “So much.”

Andrei has to practically manhandle you into the car in the morning, making sure you’re dressed comfortably and warm. Your head rests against the window as he drives. “I’ll pick up some groceries while you’re napping,” he says, brushing his thumb over your knee. “Anything you want specific?”

“Butterscotch pudding,” you ask hopefully, smiling a little. You try not to eat a ton of processed foods, but you figure post-surgery you’ll indulge.

“On it,” Andrei grins at you, dimple popping. He looks calm, which reassures you. Once he parks and you enter the hospital, everything speeds up and slows down. Andrei helps you fill out paperwork while you change into the hospital gown and grippy socks.

You fold up your clothes neatly and put them in the little duffle bag you brought along. Andrei catches sight of the pile and raises an eyebrow, “are you not wearing underwear?”

Your cheeks heat up with a flush and you hold the gown shut behind you. “No,” you hiss, “I’m not allowed to. Don’t even start with me.”

“I wasn’t going to,” his smile is a little too sneaky and you try to climb onto the bed in a way that doesn’t leave your entire ass exposed. You fail miserably, if the little wolf-whistle Andrei lets out is any indication.

“I hate you,” you mutter, pulling the sheet up around your legs. You’re both quiet while the nurse comes around to make sure all your paperwork is filled out and signed. Andrei immediately reaches for your hand when the nurse puts the IV line in your other hand - “for the anesthesia, later,” she explains - knowing that you hate needles more than anything.

And then there’s nothing to do but wait.

Andrei’s sitting on the edge of the bed, texting and reading out the messages that the guys are directing to you. “Jarvy,” he says, wincing at the screen, “wants to know if you get to keep your thyroid once it’s removed.”

“Uh, no,” you reply flatly, face screwing up in disgust at the thought of it. “I hate this.”

His hand lands on your knee and rubs it through the sheet. “It will be over before you know it,” he soothes you. “In meantime, Skjeisy says you can join me and him in the cool scar club.”

Your hand subconsciously lifts to your throat, fingers wrapping around it loosely, and you blow out a breath, puffing up your cheeks. “Not a club I really wanted to join,” you say wryly.

You scroll through Twitter absently, a pit of guilt settling low in your stomach when you see the Tweet from the Canes’ account that Andrei’s missing tonight’s game for personal reasons. Your thumb hovers over the tweet, ready to tap on it and read the replies, when Andrei plucks the device from your hands. “Hey!” You protest, reaching for your phone. Andrei pulls it out of your reach.

“No more social media,” he says, tucking your phone in the back pocket of his jeans for safe keeping. With his other hand, he digs a little envelope out of his front pocket. “I forgot, yesterday, to give this to you. But mom sent this and I was supposed to give it to you before surgery,” he settles the little envelope in your hands and you look at it curiously.

Opening the flap, you tilt the contents out onto the palm of your hand - a little gold medallion on a chain. You hold it up to your face and see the tiny icon embossed into the gold. “Who is this?” You ask, rubbing your thumb over the image.

“Saint Anastasia,” Andrei replies, “she was a healer, I think. Mama wanted to make sure you were protected.”

Elena’s gesture of love and concern hits you like a punch to the stomach and you startle both yourself and Andrei by bursting out into ugly, loud sobs. Your face crumples and fingers tighten around the chain.

Andrei lets out a noise of distress that you can barely hear over your crying and rush of blood in your ears. His arms wrap around your upper body and you bury your face in his chest, getting tears and snot everywhere. “It’s okay,” he whispers in your ear, stroking a hand over your hair. “Hey, stop crying, nurses are going to think something is wrong. Shh.”

“I just really love your mom,” you wail into his chest, muffled by his shirt.

Andrei keeps shushing you, alternating with trying to comfort you. You sniffle and pull back, wiping at your face with the back of your wrist. “Better?” Andrei asks, cupping your chin. His lips are drawn down in a concerned frown.

“A little, yeah,” you nod, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping one arm around them. You hold your other hand up, the little pendant dangling from its chain in between your faces. “Can you keep this safe for me?”

He nods and lets you clasp the chain around his neck. The little pendant falls into place against his chest, dwarfed next to his giant cross. You smooth your fingertips over the icon and his cross, lingering for a few heartbeats over the warm metals. Andrei’s hand comes up to cover yours and he squeezes your fingers. “You are going to be perfect, solnyshka,” he mumbles, lifting your hand to his mouth to kiss your fingertips.

“Okay, kids,” your nurse, a cheerful older woman named Monica, appears at the foot of your bed, drawing yours and Andrei’s attention, “one more kiss and then I’m whisking you off to the best sleep of your life.”

Andrei squeezes your fingers again and presses a soft kiss against your lips, mumbling, “see you soon.”

You press your fingers into his chest, digging your nails into the fabric of his shirt, fingers curling like you’re going to hold on and not let go. With a shaky sigh, you release him and manage a brave little smile, “don’t forget my butterscotch pudding.”

He nods, laughing under his breath, and then Monica’s helping you get settled back on the bed and Andrei steps off to the side while a whole little team appears to transport you to the operating room. You twist your fingers together anxiously, stomach turning, and turn on the bed so you can keep looking at Andrei until you’re completely out of the pre-op ward. He catches your eye and winks, waving a little and tapping his other hand over his chest, where your icon hangs next to his cross.

“He’s a real cutie,” Monica comments idly, drawing your attention once the swinging doors are shut behind your little parade and Andrei’s out of sight.

“Oh,” you hum faintly, “he really is. I don’t deserve him, honestly.”

“Now, I’m sure that’s not true,” she keeps chatting as you get situated on the operating table, climbing awkwardly from your bed, trying to keep the gown closed over your ass. “You’re just as cute, even more, I’d say.”

“Thanks,” you laugh a little, the compliment warming the icy block of nerves lodged in your chest. Once you’re laid out on the table, you run a hand over your sternum, breathing deeply.

The surgeon comes in and offers you a warm smile, “I promise, I’m really good at this.”

You’re thrown off a little by the statement and he nods, clearly pleased with himself. “I find that patients always want me to be a little cocky,” he continues, sitting down on a wheeling stool next to the table you’re on. “We’ll be done before you know it and you’ll wake up feeling extremely well-rested.”

“As long as you’ve got the skill to back up your words,” you say, surprisingly reassured a bit by his no-nonsense manner.

Monica pats your hand and grins, “he does. Now, count back from ten and you’ll be back with that sweetheart of yours in no time.”

Your lips curl up briefly and you angle your head away when you feel the little tug on the IV in your hand indicating that the anesthesia is getting attached and started. In your head, you start the count at ten, nine, eight —

“Oh, looks like she’s coming around,” a voice breaks through the dark haziness surrounding you and you try to blink, but your body feels too heavy.

There’s a warm pressure on your hand and you twitch your fingers against it. A little shiver works its way through your body, you’re freezing.

The warmth on your hand moves up your arm - a hand stroking against your skin. “Whenever you’re ready,” the familiar accent washes over you, “I can’t wait to see those eyes, solnyshka.”

A hum forms in the back of your throat and that’s a mistake because it hurts and you let yourself fall back asleep to avoid the pain.

The next time you wake up, the bright lights of the hospital almost force you to close your eyes again. You grumble wordlessly and the noise draws Andrei’s attention from where he’s sitting in a chair next to your bed, scrolling on his phone. He looks over at you and his face immediately breaks out into a wide, dimpled smile.

“Hey,” he greets you, scooting the chair closer and reaching for your hands. His are still warm against your cold ones and it’s nice when his thumb brushes over the backs of your knuckles. “How do you feel?”

Before answering, you take stock of your body and you’re surprised to find that you feel pretty good beyond the pain in your throat. That feels like you’re swallowing knives. “‘M okay,” you manage to mumble quietly, wincing at the stretch of your skin. “C’n I have water?”

“Da,” Andrei pours water into a little plastic cup and hands it to you, plunking a straw in the water. You take a sip and it feels so good going down, the cold water soothing the burning. You sigh happily and sink back into the pillows.

“How’d it go?” You ask, rolling your head so your cheek is resting on your shoulder and you can see Andrei better. Your voice scratches out of your throat, raspy and hoarse like you’d just smoked a pack of cigarettes.

“Surgeon says perfect,” Andrei grins, the crinkles around his eyes deepening. “You did so good, solnyshka.”

His fingers never stop stroking yours and you melt at the contact, glad his the first face you saw when you woke up. “Wonder how bad the scar is,” you mutter, resisting the urge to touch your lower neck, where the skin feels tight and battered. “Can I see?”

Andrei’s hesitation and slight frown before he says, “maybe not best idea right now,” tells you all you need to know.

“Oh my god,” your eyes go wide, panic starting to claw at your chest. “He botched me! I’m botched, it’s a horrible scar, right?”

“No, no!” Andrei shakes his head frantically. “Not botched! It just, with the glue, there’s no stitches. But you can see all the blood. It looks worse than it is, the surgeon said.”

“But it looks really bad,” you confirm and before Andrei can say anything, Monica appears behind his shoulder.

“Look at you, awake and ready to go,” she smiles, effectively cutting off any discussion about your neck, and asking how you feel while filling out your chart. You answer as honestly as you can, voice growing more hoarse the longer you talk. “Well, everything looks really good. We’re going to keep you here for a few more hours and then, if everything keeps looking good, you’ll be back home before dinner time.”

You and Andrei chime a simultaneous ‘thank you’ as she leaves.

“Give me my phone,” you demand and Andrei shakes his head.

“No way,” he taps the back of your hand. “I’ll be your secretary. You’re just going to get upset if you look.”

“I won’t!” You counter petulantly, poking your lower lip out. “I just want to see.”

“When we get home,” he promises and you scowl at him. He effortlessly changes the subject, showing you a picture of Gigi that Martin had apparently sent earlier. You smile at your favorite puppy, swallowing often to try and ease the sharp pain. It doesn’t do much other than intensify the pain and you start to regret it, closing your eyes for another nap.

By the time you’re cleared for discharge, the pain meds have worn off completely and your neck hurts, a dark mood clouding your head. Andrei is patient with you, helping you change back into your sweats and zip-up. You protest the wheelchair an orderly brings around, but you’re told it’s hospital policy and you slump into the seat, crossing your arms over your chest. Andrei runs his hand over the crown of your head as he walks next to you, carrying your empty duffel bag.

Instead of driving his Lamborghini, your Toyota Rav is waiting at the curb and you smile. “Oh thank god,” you mutter and Andrei laughs.

“Didn’t think you’d want to get down low in my car,” he explains, holding out a hand to help you stand and then climb up into the passenger seat. He left a blanket in the car for you too and you take the opportunity to cover yourself up with it while he goes around the front of the car. You wave at the orderly through the window and Andrei starts the car.

“You thought right,” you yawn. It’s a fast drive home and you’re grateful for that, because all you want to do is rinse off and lay down. Considering you’d been under anesthesia for a couple of hours, you’re exhausted. You’re so tired, you forget to flip down the visor mirror to look at your incision.

Once you’re home, Andrei bundles you into the house, one hand solid against your lower back as he guides you up the front path. “I know you want to shower,” Andrei says, “but remember the doctor said not to get the glue wet for twenty four hours.”

You whine, cranky and desperate for a shower. “I want all the gross hospital feeling off of me, Drei,” you pout, toeing off your sneakers and crossing your arms.

He drops your tote next to your sneakers and raises an eyebrow. “I know, you can get in the bath and I’ll wash your hair. We’ll be careful with your neck, okay ?”

Your neck feels stiff and your throat is still sore, but you nod, just wanting to take your Tylenol and relax. When you shuffle further into the house, you spot bouquets of flowers on the kitchen island and gasp. “What are those?” You whisper hoarsely, tears prickling at your eyes.

“Oh, right,” Andrei laughs. “Special deliveries for my girl. The team sent and your office, Neci and Nykki. My parents, your parents, Geno.”

Tears slip down your cheeks and you feel overwhelmed with love. You wipe at your eyes with the heels of your palms and turn to Andrei for a hug. He embraces you easily and you shake your head. “I didn’t want everyone to know,” your throat hurts more when you cry.

“Only the important people,” he says. “Everyone loves you, solnyshka.”

The reminder of how many people are supporting you makes you think of Elena’s gift and you pull back from Andrei’s chest. “Can I have my necklace back now?” You ask in a shaky voice.

“Of course,” he unclasps the thin chain from his neck and hooks it around yours, pleased to see that the chain doesn’t touch your glued over incision. He taps the pendant with the tip of his finger and kisses your temple.

After an unsatisfying bath and a glance in the mirror that shows the dark rings under your eyes and the gruesome looking wound on your neck, you’re more or less clean and you build a nest of blankets and pillows on your bed, tucking yourself into the middle of it all. You have to sleep sitting up or partially reclined for the first night and it’s not your favorite way to sleep, so you prop a bunch of pillows around your head and hope that works. Andrei brings you a butterscotch pudding and climbs onto his side of the bed so you can watch the game.

“My neck looks awful,” you blurt, unable to stop thinking about it.

“It doesn’t,” Andrei replies. “Just for now with the blood and glue.”

“The scar is going to be so obvious in pictures,” you poke at the pudding with your spoon.

“You look badass,” Andrei rolls onto his side and grins at you. “Like a warrior.”

You scowl at him, feeling like he’s making fun of you even though you know he’s completely serious. You jab at the pudding again, suddenly nauseous. “I wish this was it,” you mutter, still raspy and hoarse and you’re really hoping it’s just temporary and that the surgeon didn’t actually fuck up your vocal cords. “But I still have the radiation and then who knows…”

“One day at a time,” Andrei knocks your foot with his. “That’s what you said to me, right? Every time I’ve been recovering, it’s one day at a time.”

He’s right, for each and every one of his injuries, you had been preaching taking recovery one day at a time. You suppose it’s time to practice what you preach now. Still, your anxiety ratchets up every time you think about the c-word, darkness and worst case scenarios dancing in your head. You twist your fingers around a piece of hair, fidgeting as you mind spins.

Andrei’s hand snakes over your thigh, rubbing gently at the soft fabric of your sweats. He rests his chin just above your knee and says, “hey, look at me.” It feels weird when he talks, chin bouncing on your leg, but you look down at him.

“Hm?” You chew at your lower lip.

“One day at a time,” he repeats firmly, refusing to break eye contact with you. When you nod and he’s satisfied, he presses a kiss to your knee and rolls back onto his back. “Who do you think scores first?” He gestures to the TV, trying to lighten the mood in the room.

You play along, wanting to avoid the pain and the scary future for now. Scooping out a bite of pudding and sticking the spoon in your mouth, you hum around the dessert before teasing, “oh, it’s definitely going to be Pyotr.”

Life goes pretty much back to normal over the next few days, you’re back at work and Andrei hits the road with the team. The glue over your incision flakes off and while the cut is a vivid, angry-looking red, it’s a clean, straight line only about three inches long. You’re obsessive about applying Mederma and Vitamin E oil to help the scar fade as quickly as possible. Your voice is still a little raspy, but it’s getting better slowly.

By the end of the week, you’re working up the courage to call your doctor to schedule your radiation therapy session. It’s a terrifying thought and your hands shake every time you think about it. But Andrei had sent a text this morning, reminding you to make the call. And you don’t want to let him down, not after how supportive he’s been. So, you stare down at the contact information for your doctor’s office, wishing you could, like, use the Force to make the call.

Startling you, the phone begins to vibrate on the table, the same contact information you had been looking at flashing on the screen.

“Holy shit,” you mutter to yourself, blinking stupidly at the phone and swiping at the last second to accept the call. “Hello?”

It’s your doctor, making a personal call, the smile evident in her voice. Within minutes, you’re sobbing with relief as she tells you they ran additional tests on the tissue taken from your neck and while the initial thought and course of action had been to have radiation therapy, the surgeon was confident he had gotten all the cancerous tissue out of your neck.

“You’re cancer-free,” she tells you cheerfully. “I love making these calls.”

“Really?” You manage to squeak out the word around your tears.

“Really. You’ll have to be on a synthetic thyroid pill for the rest of your life and see me every four to six months for blood tests and evaluations,” she explains, “but I am very confident that the malignancy is gone and you won’t need radiation therapy.”

The rest of the conversation passes in a blur and you’re pretty sure the only thing you manage to say is a repeated ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’ before the call ends.

You sit on the couch, shell-shocked, gripping the little icon hanging around your neck.

That’s where Andrei finds you when he gets back from morning skate, tears dripping down your cheeks. Before he can ask, you catch his eyes and beam, “cancer free.”

Andrei lets out an unintelligible, strangled noise of joy and rushes to the couch, swinging you up in his arms and holding you to his chest in a bruising hug. He murmurs in Russian in your ear and you can feel his shoulders shake a little. “I love you,” he murmurs, while you cling to him, “I love you so much, solnyshka. So much.”

His arms are tight around your back and you hook your legs around his waist, not wanting to let go any time soon. Your face is buried in his neck and you’re not sure if his skin is damp from his shower or your tears, but you can’t stop crying.

“Did you book Mauritius?” You laugh wetly into Andrei’s shoulder.

Andrei’s laugh startles out of his chest, echoing around the living room and vibrating through your whole body. It’s your favorite sound in the whole world and you can’t wait to keep hearing it for a long time.

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov x you #andrei svechnikov fic #nhl fic

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heartmix · 15 days

Text

Injury Prone - Andrei Svechnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov x wife!reader

Word Count: 500+

Warning: Child injury, didn't care to proofread that much

A/N: I love this man so much. He and Freddie are why I love the canes to much.

Masterlist / Hockey Masterlist

"You know you're never going to hear the end of this right." You glared at your husband who slumped more into his seat, feeling the harsh glare you were throwing him.

Your son was at that age where he wanted to do everything his father was doing. Skating was the start of it. Turns out he had his father's skills because in no time he was skating with ease. The newest fixation was golf. Andrei constantly went golfing now that it was the off-season. It was only a matter of time before the mini version of him wanted to try golf also.

Golf was supposed to be the way safer option which is why you weren't worried about an all-day boys trip. Unluckily for the boys, the need to impress the 5-year-old was a priority during the trip. That top priority resulted in your son falling out of the golf cart while being taken on a joy ride up and down the hills of the course.

Normally a fall would have no effect on the little boy. The amount of times he's fallen while learning to skate and then getting back up one would think he wasn't human. That boy has been injuring himself since he could crawl. But when you saw the way he was favoring his arm when he got back home you knew something was wrong.

"Oh come on, did you see how excited he was to get an x-ray? Little dude is charming all the nurses and his doctor in there." Andrei tried to make you feel better, feel less angry but it didn't help. No one liked sitting in the hospital waiting room waiting for their child to get out of the x-ray room.

"I knew I shouldn't of had a kid with a hockey player." You grumbled making him groan. He knew that was a joke and that your grumbling was second nature, but he couldn't help but feel super guilty.

"Mr. and Mrs. Svechnikov?" The doctor called out to the both of you as you rushed ready to hear whatever news it was.

"Well, the x-rays came back clean. Nothing is broken. He just sprained it pretty badly, but other than that he is okay. We put a sling on him and we recommend to leave it on for a few days. After that, you can take him out of it. If it still feels a bit sore you can easily put him back in the sling. We also will be sending you home with some pain medicine if it gets hard to sleep at night."

"Thank you very much Dr. Johnson."

"My pleasure. I'll have the nurse get the discharge papers ready. He's back in the room waiting for you both. Have a good day." The doctor bid a farewell as you felt a sigh leaving Andrei. Of course for the fact that his son was perfectly fine (he knew that already) but for the fact that his wife wasn't going to kill him.

"You too doctor."

"See, our baby boy is perfectly fine." He smiled down at his wife whose glare didn't drop for a second.

"You're still sleeping on the couch. Not even the spare bedroom."

"Are you serious?"

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

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heartsandhischier · 13 days

Text

Offside Emotions

andrei svechnikov x female!reader

summary - 951 words. Andrei finds himself thinking, hoping that it was all real part 8 of The Pretend Play

author's note - This man... honestly. I can't get him out of my head

warnings - fluff just fluff

The rink, usually a place of roaring crowds and the sharp scrape of skates against the ice, was tonight transformed. As the Carolina Hurricanes hosted a special meet-and-greet skate, the air still cold enough to make breath visible, was infused with the warmth of laughter and chatter. The sounds of fans mingling with the team, the occasional clink of hockey sticks, and the gentle glide of skates created a symphony of human connection. The rink usually a place of competition and athleticism, had transformed into a vibrant hub of interaction. Around the arena, banners in vibrant red, white, and black fluttered from the stands, crafting an atmosphere of festive camaraderie rather than competition.

It was a stark contrast to the solitude of early morning practices or the focused tension of the game nights. Here, the barrier between player and fan, between the ice and the stands, seemed to dissolve.

Andrei observed as fans eagerly mingled with their hockey idols, capturing moments in photographs and basking in the glow of their presence. His teammates, usually seen in the heat of the game, were now sharing laughs and stories, their guards down, their faces lit up with genuine smiles as they mingled with fans.

And there, gliding across the ice with an elegance and grace that made her seem like she belonged there as much as any of the other players, were Y/N. Her laughter, bright and genuine, cut through the chill of the rink, drawing Andrei's gaze time and time again. She engaged with fans and teammates alike, her responses tinged with wit yet overflowing kindness.

Andrei, watching from a distance as he signed autographs and engaged in small talk, couldn't help but steal glances at her. The ease with which she navigated every interaction, the open affection in the eyes of his teammates when they spoke to her, and the way she seemed to glow amidst the cold, artificial lights of the rink.

"Vyglyadit tak, budto ona pokorila vseh, a" Pyotr nudged him, following his gaze. ("Looks like she's won everyone over, huh?")

Andrei's gaze lingered on her as she glided through the crowd. "Da, ona... ona zaamechatel'naya," he found himself responding, the warmth in his tone reflecting his genuine admiration. ("Yes, she's... she's wonderful.")

There was something about the way Y/N interacted with the crowd that captivated him. Her laughter, sincere and infectious, and her way of making each person feel seen, seemed to light up the chilly rink. He observed as she laughed at a fan's joke, her head thrown back revealing her beautiful smile, and then turned to offer an encouraging word to a shy child clutching a hockey stick almost as tall as herself. Each interaction seemed to leave a little sparkle in its wake, and Andrei couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading through him — a warmth that had little to do with the physical setting.

"Svechy, ty vitaesh v oblakah," Pyotr's voice pulled him back, the playful childing in Russian grounding him once more. ("Svechy, you're daydreaming,")

"Prosto smotryu," Andrei shot back, a defensive edge to his words, though his attention remained fixed on Y/N. ("Just looking,")

Y/N came over to him, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of the day. "Your fans are amazing, Andrei. And your team... they're just as wonderful off the ice as they are on it," she said, her voice carrying a note of genuine admiration.

Seeing her so animated, so utterly perfect in his eyes, Andrei was struck by a profound sense of longing. If only this wasn't just for show, the realisation hitting him with the force of a body check. The warmth of her presence, the sound of her laughter, the way she seemed to fit perfectly by his side — it all felt painfully right.

"You were incredible with them," Andrei said, his voice carrying a warmth he didn't attempt to disguise. "It's like you're part of the team already." Watching her interact with fans and teammates alike, Andrei realized she wasn't just fitting into the setting — she was fitting into his life.

Y/N smiled, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Thanks, Svech. But I'm just following your lead," she replied, her use of the nickname so casual yet so intimate, it felt like a caress. The playful punch she landed on his arm didn't just break the tension; it shattered it, leaving Andrei with a sense of connection so profound.

Leaving the rink behind them, stepping out into the crisp night air, Andrei found the chill less harsh than it typically felt. His mind was awash with emotions, the clarity he had once possessed about their arrangement now clouded by a deep, burgeoning desire for authenticity. The echoes of her laughter, the mental image of her illuminated by the rink's artificial lights, her engaging interactions—it all painted a picture of a future he'd never before allowed himself to contemplate.

Y/N's hand found Andrei's with a grace and ease that took him by surprise. It was a gesture so fluid, so natural, it was as if all the barriers that had stood between them melted away in that single touch. The warmth from her hand seeped into his, a tangible connection that seemed to echo the warmth he felt whenever she was near, now manifesting physically between them.In that moment, with their fingers intertwined, Andrei felt a profound shift. Y/N, who had entered his life under the guise of pretense, had quietly, irrevocably woven herself into the fabric of his existence. She had become the person he envisioned by his side, not just in victory but in every aspect of life, if only their connection hadn't been a facade.

#andrei svechnikov fanfiction #andrei svechnikov fanfic #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov x you #nhl fanfic #hockey fanfic #hockey fic #nhl fanfiction #carolina hurricanes fic #canes fanfiction #carolina hurricanes imagine #carolina hurricanes fanfic #canes fanfic #canes #as37 #andrei svechnikov x y/n

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hockeybabe · 1 year

Text

Playoff Love|| A. Svechnikov

Gif not mine

Pairings: Andrei Svechnikov x gf!reader

Summary: after the canes win their first round game you decide to show your boyfriend how much you love him.

Warnings: oral (f!receiving), fingering, swearing, praise kink Andrei, dirty talk, fluffy ending and starting, and my Google translate.

Word count: 1.1k

Note: I love Andrei so much and I just had to do it for the canes. AND THE LEAFS MADE SECOND ROUND!!!

When your boyfriend clinched the playoffs, you couldn’t be more excited for him and the team. Andrei had a tendency to get really horny every time you wore his jersey, and for the playoffs, he made it his mission to win game five for you. But today was the sixth game, and the Canes were already leading the series 3-2.

The game didn’t start till later, and you couldn’t wait to watch your boyfriend. "Malyshka, I have to go." Andrei says, with his bag of hockey stuff and his suit on. Getting off the bed, you walk up to him. "Well, I’ll be watching every second, and if you win, I’ll show you how much I love you." You say in a teasing tone.

"Don’t try something you know you can’t win." He warns you, grabbing your chin and tilting you up to look at him. You smile at him brightly. "I think it’ll be a win-win if you win. If not only one of us will suffer." You say, moving your eyes down to Andrei’s bulge growing in his pants.

"Fuck Malyshka, you're pushing my limits." Andrei groans in his heavy accent. He kisses you deeply before saying goodbye. You had high hopes for the game for Andrei’s sake, but either way, he was going to fuck you up all night. You still had two hours to spare, so you decided to clean up the apartment you and Andrei live in and pick out your outfit.

Looking through your lingerie drawer, you find a red and black lace pattern one-piece. It drew your attention immediately as it represented the colour of the canes. Placing the piece on your bed, you grab some simple black tights and Andrei’s jersey. When you leave your closet, you grab the clothes and put them on.

You couldn’t deny that you knew what you were doing. The moment you started to flirt with Andrei and tease him, you had a feeling it would end with you on the bed, coming for hours, win or lose. Either way, it had you really excited. Putting on the last piece of clothing, you grab your phone, keys, and wallet, putting them all into your purse.

You got to the game right before it started. You took your seat right behind the glass of the Canes' net. If the canes won, they’d move on to the second round, and you had a good feeling. As the game went on, it got to the end, and they did it 2-1! Sebastian Aho and Paul Stastny had scored, allowing us to win.

You texted Andrei that his winning prize was at home waiting for him, giving you all the time to strip, leaving you in your lingerie lying on your bed resting on your elbows while arching your back. "Malyshka!" Andrei called out; you could hear his footsteps getting closer and closer.

"Y/n," he says quietly, peeking his head through the barely opened door. Andrei’s eyes widen as he sees you on the bed, feeling his dick strain in his pants. "Wow, this is… fuck Malyshka." He says, flabbergasted. "Big wins equal big surprises." You tell him, biting the bottom of your lip.

Andrei unbuttons his dress shirt, revealing his abs. He crawls over your body on the bed with his face inches from yours. "Only bad girls wear skimpy lingerie. Are you a bad girl?" He taunts, trailing a finger around the patterns of the material. "I’m a good girl, I promise. I did it for you." You said, pouting your lip ever so slightly.

"How can I say no to that?" Andrei captures your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth as he pushes your hips into the mattress. Andrei trails his lips from your lips to your neck and right under your ear. "I bet if I put my hand in between your legs, they’d be soaked because that’s what good girls are. Soaked." He growls, nipping at your ear.

"Andrei." You whine, rocking your hips upwards to create some sort of friction. "How much do you like this piece?" He asks, turning you over so you are on top. Too focused on getting yourself off, you try to wiggle your hips out of his grasp. "Answer me, Malyshka." He demands. "It doesn’t mean anything." You shudder as Andrei finally allows you to grind against him.

"Good girl." He praises ripping the lace from the back. You gasp as you feel the cool breeze run over your back, causing goosebumps. Andrei peels off the top half of your piece. "Up." Andrei taps under your thigh as you lift your hips, giving Andrei the opportunity to tear off the rest of your lingerie.

"You have way too many clothes on." You say, reconnecting your lips, taking off his dress shirt, and unbuckling his belt. Andrei leans against the bed frame, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer to his cock. You moan, parting your lips. "You had a good time today?" He asks, rolling you over on your back. "The best." You say smiling. Andrei places teasing kisses down your stomach, using his free hand to play with your tits.

"That’s what I like to hear." Andrei says, running his fingers up and down your slick folds, spreading your wetness. You moan, scratching the back of his head. "That’s it, Malyshka; let me hear you." You moan in response as Andrei adds a digit to your pussy. He pumps in and out at a fast pace while his thumb works on your clit.

"You like that dirty girl." Andrei taunts, adding a second digit, pumping even faster. "That’s it, come on my fingers." He orders. You gasp, clenching around his thick fingers. Andrei’s head moves down your body, placing peppered kisses here and there before going to your pussy and licking you clean. The heels of your feet dig into Andrei’s back as your hands pull at his hair.

Your head falls back as a loud moan escapes you. "Andrei, please," you beg as he continues to give you long strokes with his tongue. "You taste divine Malyshka." Andrei says with a cheeky grin. "Fuck Andrei, I'm going to-" Before you could finish, your second orgasm rolled through, causing your body to go limp.

"Look at you, being such a good girl, coming for me. It’s a good thing we won." Andrei says coming back up to face you, placing a kiss on both of your cheeks. "You’re lucky; I love you." You say to him. "And you’re lucky, I love you, because you should have about two more rounds to make up for my four wins." He says picking you up and taking you to the shower.

You laugh all the way there because, like you said, "you had a feeling it would end with you on the bed, coming for hours, win or lose." And it was the biggest win of your life.

#hockey #hockey players #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #imagine #nhl smut #andrei svechnikov smut #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov x reader #carolina hurricanes #Carolina hurricanes imagine #canes #Carolina #hockey smut #playoffs 2023 #second round #playoffs

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mendeshoney · 6 months

Text

apple of my eye, take a bite

A/N: surprise surprise! this is a part two to "a taste of the devine," with a special little halloween twist! to my lovelies, @pyotrkochetkov and @smileysvech happy halloween babes! the title is inspired by lyrics from the song “eve” by precious pepala

Summary: You and Andrei go to the team Halloween party at a club, and it takes Andrei down memory lane.

Pairing: andrei svechnikov x f!reader

Word Count: 5,120

Warnings: five year age gap, older woman x younger man, fluff, previously established dynamics (including msub x fdom dynamics, switch, mdom x fsub dynamics), smut, semi-public sex (in a club), hints of biting/hickies, penetration, finish inside, unprotected sex

Russian terms used (bearing in mind the author does not speak Russian and definitely Google’d these) can be referenced here.

“I feel like this won’t make much sense,” Andrei quietly mumbles to himself, adjusting the ‘hat’ of his costume, his eyes casting to the side once he sees movement from inside the closet.

The sliding frosted glass door is closed, so he can only see your shadow as you move around, and he can feel himself start to get antsy.

You’d kept your part of the couples costume a shrouded secret from him, claiming you wanted to surprise him.

As far as surprises go, he typically liked yours a lot, but given his current predicament, he found himself a little more anxious than normal.

He glances at himself in the vanity mirror in your shared bedroom, running a cursory hand over the fuzzy material of his Halloween costume, and frowning a little at his reflection.

“Kroshka, I don’t-” He starts, cutting himself off and turning back toward the closet when he hears the sliding door open.

You finally emerge, body in an emerald green mini dress that you’d sewed fake vines onto so that they curled and twisted around your figure, enhancing your silhouette, vines trailing down your shoulder and around your arms until they rested delicately on your wrists. Those beautiful legs of yours donned a pair of thigh high velvet stiletto boots, the color matching your dress perfectly.

You looked a lot more like that character that Evgeny used to tease him for having a crush on when they were kids, Poison Ivy, than you did the biblical Eve.

Sukin syn.

Andrei’s hard in seconds, heart pounding furiously as his stomach flutters.

Babochki, he thinks. Butterflies.

He laughs suddenly, feeling nervous out of the blue.

“What do you think?” You ask, turning your body a little so he can get a better view.

“I think there’s butterflies in my stomach,” he says honestly, the words coming out faster than he can process, but when you flush deeply, he feels a twinge of satisfaction.

“You still have a way with words, don’t you?” You tease, trying to look anywhere else but him, and he knows that strategy.

Sometimes, when you’re not sure how to receive his compliments, you try to brush them off, but tonight’s not a night Andrei can let that fly.

He can feel his hands twitching at his sides, and his feet are moving towards you before he even realizes, that familiar gravitational pull too strong to resist.

“Ty vyglyadish' krasivo, lyubov' moya.” He murmurs. You look beautiful, my love.

You smile at his words, his hands coming to rest on your waist and pull you closer. “Spasibo, malysh.” You finally seem to take in his costume, and you giggle lightly. “You look so cute!”

He frowns, brows pinched together. “I’m glad you think so.”

You smile, giggling a little more. “Of course I think so.”

“Remind me again why I couldn’t just be ‘Adam’ for Halloween?” He asks, fingers playing with a fake vine on your shoulder.

“Because no one cares about Adam,” you remind him gently. “The story’s about Eve and the Apple. Adam’s just there.”

Andrei pouts a little, turning back toward the mirror and staring at the apple suit that covers his upper half, the red hat on his head with the apple’s stem and a little leaf, and the dark brown pants on his legs. “I guess so,” he laments, then turns his gaze back to you.

You know him so well at this point that when the corner of your mouth quirks up in a small smile, he isn’t even surprised, and just smiles right back at you. “Don’t worry, shchenok, everyone still thinks you’re sexy.”

“I don’t care about everyone,” he says without a second’s hesitation. “Just you.”

A small flush works its way up your neck and cheeks. “I still think you’re sexy, too.”

Andrei’s heart pounds then, that familiar disbelief that he was able to call someone like you the love of his life surfacing in his chest. He bends his head, pride surging through his veins when you accept his kiss.

“We should probably go soon,” you murmur against his mouth.

Andrei hums, shrugging. “Or we could stay home. Have our own little Halloween party.”

“Not an option, I’m afraid.” You say, and pull yourself out of his arms to head back into the closet. He watches, completely entranced, as you pull on a pair of thigh high velvet stiletto boots, the color matching your dress perfectly, and he can feel himself start to tent in his pants.

“Kroshka,” he tries again, the word nearly getting caught in his throat, “Are you sure we can’t just-”

You cut him off by standing, grabbing your small clutch and his car keys, tossing a curt “Let’s go, moye yabloko” over your shoulder as you head to the garage.

Andrei glances at himself in the mirror one last time, offering his reflection a long-suffering sigh, before grabbing his wallet and trailing after you.

His teammates don’t laugh as much as he expected, which he supposes is because out of all the costumes tonight, he looks the least ridiculous.

Jesperi, Teuvo, and Sebastian are dressed as Alvin and the Chipmunks - Jesperi was elected to be Theo against his will, Teuvo gladly accepted the role of Simon because it meant he was the smartest, which left Sebastian as Alvin, who claimed it was only fair since his last name began with an ‘A’ - Freddie, Anti, Jacob, and Brett dressed up as Michaelangelo, Donatello, Leonardo, and Rafael from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Brent was dressed as Sully from Monsters Inc, and those were just the costumes he managed to figure out on his own.

There were far too many others for him to keep track of or understand and some were just a headache to look at, so he ended up focusing on the one thing he knew would keep his attention - the way your ass moved in your dress as you walked through club toward the VIP section they’d reserved for the team party.

The girls complimented you on your outfit and assured Andrei that he looked cute instead of silly, and it only made him feel marginally better.

He was still dressed as a giant apple for the night, after all, while his bombshell of a girlfriend looked like a walking fantasy.

After you’d said hello to everyone, the two of you ended up separated, the girls heading out to the dancefloor, some of the guys heading to the bar to grab drinks and snacks, and the rest settling into the VIP section.

Andrei plopped down between Jesperi and Freddie, removing his costume’s hat and putting it on the little table in their section, tuning out most of the conversation happening within the first ten minutes and instead finding himself focused on you and that beautiful dress out on the dance floor.

His eyes were glued to you as you danced, lost in the familiar way your hips moved and how carefree you were. Other people may have needed a little bit of alcohol in them to be so uninhibited, but you didn’t. You never had.

Watching you now, it reminds him of the first night he met you.

It had been earlier this year, when the guys had been having a particularly rough week of games, and they’d gone out to a club to relieve some stress.

You’d been there with some of your friends, and Andrei had been feeling a little bit too confident after a few drinks. He’d locked eyes with you barely ten minutes after he’d arrived and couldn’t take his eyes off you the whole night, couldn’t seem to find the need to wander more than ten feet out of your orbit.

He finally found the courage to approach you after Martinook had all but threatened to send Freddie after you first, pushing off the bar and heading over to you.

He tried the gentlemanly approach, introduced himself properly by taking your hand, and from that first touch there was this crazy electric wildfire of sexual tension that neither of you seemed to be able to deny. You didn’t seem disturbed by him being five years younger than you, and he couldn’t have cared any fucking less about you being twenty eight.

He worried for maybe half a second about you not being able to understand him through his accent, but you had no problems with it, even beyond the blaring music of the club. Then, he offered to get you a drink or a bottle of water - whatever you wanted really, he didn’t care - before asking if you minded if he joined you for a dance.

One dance became two, then four, then six, and then the next thing he knew, you both had locked yourselves in a storage closet down the back hall of the club and he had you pinned against the wall, his jeans and boxer briefs around his thighs, your dress hiked up to your waist, thong pulled to the side, and his cock buried so deep inside of you that you had to bite down on the meaty flesh of his shoulder to keep from crying out too loudly.

You’d fucked twice in that closet before you took him back to your place and fucked another two times. In the morning, you’d managed to contain yourselves in the shower, but Andrei lost all restraint and licked your pussy on your kitchen table until your throat grew hoarse and your legs shook so much your table started to squeak.

He managed to rein it in and take you on a date two days later, and then you invited him out for dinner another three days after that. After about ten dates without any sexual interactions at all, and about a month in total of you actually knowing each other, he’d asked you to be his girlfriend, and you both celebrated when you said ‘yes’ to him by locking yourselves in at his place and fucking like bunnies for about two days.

Andrei had learned everything about what you liked in bed in that first month, and you’d learned everything about what he liked.

You’d also learned enough about one another that Andrei was pretty sure he’d end up marrying you and having about five or seven kids within the next seven years, because there was no possible way he’d ever manage to find someone as brilliant as you ever again.

And at this point, you’d barely been dating a year.

He’d say he was probably moving too fast in any other circumstance, but he was pretty sure you were on the same page.

He feels a nudge in his side, and Andrei glances over, momentarily shocked because he’d completely forgotten his friends were dressed in costumes, and the orange fabric around Freddie’s eyes nearly scared him shitless for a second.

“You want another drink? The chipmunks lost a bet so they’re buying for the night.” Freddie says, gesturing to where Jesperi had gotten up and was now writing down orders on his phone.

“Sure,” Andrei says. “I’ll take one.”

Jesperi points to where you are on the dance floor and asks Andrei “One for her too, right?”, and when Andrei nods, Jesperi gives him a thumbs up before stalking over to the bar.

He has a feeling it’s going to take Jesperi awhile to put in the drink orders for the whole section, so Andrei resumes watching you, reminiscing on the day you first met and chiming in on the conversations around him every now and again.

You finally wander over with the girls once the drinks arrive, and Andrei immediately opens his arms, feeling content when you settle into his embrace and onto his lap. He hands you your drink, careful to keep your hair out of your face when you take a sip.

There’s a sound of fake retching, and you and Andrei cut your eyes to where Jesperi’s making faces at the two of you. You roll your eyes, settling into Andrei a little more, and he wraps his arms around your waist, securing you to him.

“Jealous, KK?” One of the other girls asks, and Jesperi’s nose scrunches.

“Hardly.” He scoffs. “I’m basically watching my older sister make out with one of my best friends. It’s disturbing.”

Andrei feels you stiffen in his arms, but Jesperi’s already turning away, and Andrei squeezes you gently. “Zajka?”

You turn to Andrei, a slightly stunned expression on your face. “I…does he really think of me that way?”

“What way?” Andrei asks, bringing a hand up to gently caress your cheek.

He can see the shock starting to settle in a little more. “Like an older sister?”

And though Andrei knows they’ve never really talked about it, because it’s not really a topic that would come up, he knows for certain the answer is yes.

Especially after the way you looked after everyone during the beach trip this past summer, all Andrei heard for weeks during training camp and preseason was how much everyone missed your cooking, people asking how you were doing, and demands for him to bring you around more.

Since you’d barely been together for six months at that point, he didn’t push you about it at all because he didn’t want you to feel pressured or rushed, even though he knew you liked everyone just fine. It was another thing he felt like would make it feel like this was going too fast, even though you’d probably be on the same page about this, too.

“I think a lot of them think that way.” He admits. “Pretty sure Freddie thinks of you as a younger sister. Burnsy too, to be honest.”

There’s a thoughtful look in your eyes now, and after a beat, you nod. “I didn’t know that.”

“Is that…is that okay?” He asks, slightly unsure. He doesn’t know that he’s seen you this…contemplative before.

You turn to Andrei, and give him that dazzling smile of yours he loves so much. “Of course it’s okay. Just took me by surprise a little.”

He nods, sitting up a little more so he can press a kiss to the base of your neck. “They love you as much as I do.”

Andrei’s surprised when his kiss makes you shiver a little, and he pulls back a bit, raising a brow at you.

You flush, suddenly bashful. “I just…” He raises a brow when you seem to be trying to find the words to say, and you gesture with your head towards the dancefloor. “Feels familiar, doesn’t it?”

Realization hits Andrei and he smiles, nodding. “It does, zajka.”

A sly, cheshire smile works its way onto your lips, and Andrei feels his heart begin to pound in anticipation. “Let’s see just how well you can tempt me a second time, moye yabloko.”

You’re downing the rest of your drink and getting up from his lap faster than he can blink, and then you’re heading back out to the dancefloor with the girls.

As Andrei watches you walk away, he catches the wink you send him over your shoulder before you disappear into the crowd, and he smirks to himself.

Da nachnetsya igra.

Let the games begin.

Drink in hand, Andrei makes his way through the crowd, his puffy apple costume coming in hand by parting the crowd a little as he moves - he even has the ridiculous hat on again - until he finally reaches where you are in the middle of the dance floor.

He taps gently on your shoulder, and when you turn around, your eyes look up at him curiously, a small smile on your face.

Andrei leans down so you can hear him better, saying “Hi, I couldn’t help but notice you earlier, and I thought I’d introduce myself and bring you a drink.”

It’s not exactly what he said that first night, but it’s close enough. So what if he skipped a few cheesy lines?

You lean back a little, staring at the drink in his hand before taking it with a small amount of hesitation. “Thank you,” you say back, leaning in like he had. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”

“I’m Andrei,” he says, holding his hand out.

You take it, shaking it once when you tell him your name in return.

The nostalgia has those butterflies resurfacing in his stomach, and he tries his best not to smile like a total idiot. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” You say, then smirk a little at his costume. “You know, I’m pretty sure I was warned to stay away from you.”

He laughs a little, stepping closer into your space. Bending down so he’s right next to your ear, he rests a hand on your waist and says “One bite won’t hurt.”

At your responding chuckle, Andrei feels goosebumps ignite on his arms. “I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s different this time,” he promises. “It’s just us. And there’s no punishment.”

“Sounds a little too good to be true,” you say, pulling away a little and taking a sip of your drink, blinking up at him from under your lashes.

Andrei rights himself, shrugging. “Only one way to find out, isn’t there?” He gestures with his head towards a hallway that he’d confirmed about ten minutes ago had both a storage closet as well as what looked like an unused office full of boxes, but still came equipped with a couch and a perfectly solid desk.

He makes his way toward the hall, waiting for all of five minutes before you appear in front of him, the glass your drink was in now empty save for the cherry stem he already knew had a knot in it.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you joke, taking careful steps toward him.

He holds a hand out, pleased when you take it, and he leads you toward the end of the hall. The door to the storage closet is on the left, and the door to the empty office is on the right. He places you in front of him, his hands resting on your waist from behind.

“Pick a door, zajka.” He says softly.

You hum a little, taking a step forward. You open the door on the right first, but there’s a small noise that leaves you, and Andrei’s confused when you don’t take a step inside. You open the door to the left, and the second you see the closet, you spin around, smiling wickedly at him before pulling him inside.

He flips you the second he crosses the threshold, shutting the door and locking it before pinning you against the wood, placing his arms on either side of your head. “Didn’t like the office?”

You shake your head, tilting your chin up, waiting. “Not the same.”

“I would’ve liked fucking you on the desk.” He admits, the image of it still fresh in his brain.

“You didn’t fuck me on a desk till I moved in with you.” You remind him.

He smirks. “Oh I remember,” he promises. “Hard to forget the time you made me come so hard I almost passed out.”

You shrug. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

He drops one of his hands from the door only to bring it up between you, running a finger down the side of your neck, to your collarbone, your chest, before teasing at the neckline of your dress.

“If you rip this dress before you get me in your bed, moye yabloko, you’ll be sorry.” You warn, but even so, your back arches off the wall, pushing your chest into his touch.

Andrei smirks. He’s never been one to shy away from his punishments.

Instead, he trails his hand down your dress and to the hem, pushing it up your thighs until he can reach under it to bring his fingers to your core, pleased when he finds the fabric of your thong already soaked.

“May I, moya koroleva?” He asks sweetly, eyes focused on where his hand lingers.

You nod, breath hitching a little when he pulls your thong to the side and runs his finger between your folds. “I want it like the first time.”

Andrei blinks, eyes darting back up to your face.

That first night was intense - and beautiful - but also not the kind of sex the two of you have most often. He likes to please you, likes taking his time warming you up or worshiping you the way he’s learned that you like best. Other than the occasional quickie, you two rarely ever just get straight to it.

“Can you take me like this? Right now?” He checks.

“I can,” you say. You reach forward, fingers finding one of the belt loops of his pants and pulling him forward. “Please, malysh. I don’t want to wait.”

His heart beats hard against his ribcage.

It’s rare that you’re the one pleading for him, that you’re the one asking for it this way, and he can feel the way his breath starts to stutter as he tries to maintain his composure.

The second he nods in agreement, it’s a race to get inside of you.

In a hurry, the two of you work to unbutton and unzip his pants, shuffling them down his thighs along with his boxer briefs. His aching cock springs free, and before you can reach for him, he’s bending down to lift you up and pin you against the wall, helping to wrap your legs around his waist.

He balances you in one arm as you press your weight into the wall, reaching down to line his cock up to your entrance. The second he can feel it catch, he presses in at the same time that you angle your hips downward, and he pushes until he’s seated all the way inside and his hips press yours against the wall.

You take a gasping breath, head lolling back as your eyes squeeze shut, arms flying to his shoulders and nails digging into the skin as your pussy grips him tightly.

“Zajka?” He asks, worried. “Are you okay?”

You nod, breathing harshly through your nose. “Move, malysh, spasibo. I need you.”

Andrei has a sudden feeling he’s going to have a hard time trying to remember to breathe if you keep talking.

Carefully, he pulls his hips back until just the head of his cock rests inside, and then he pushes back inside in one brutal stroke that seizes the breath from your lungs once more.

“Just like the first time,” he reminds you, before setting a rough and steady pace.

Your moans fill the room in seconds, and Andrei doesn’t care anymore about who can hear you or who can’t.

Especially when he knows you couldn’t care less about it either.

This time, you’re not at Freddie’s house and worried about making a good impression.

You’re here, with him, pretending like it’s the first night you met all over again, except this time there’s less to be cautious of for both of you.

Although…

If you do want it like it’s the first time again…

“You can’t moan too loud, kroshka.” He says, pressing in closer to you as his strokes slow a little, dragging himself in and out of you with precision. “Don’t want anyone to hear how pretty you are when you’re dripping on my cock, do you?”

Recognition flashes in your eyes like a bright flame, and you capture your lip between your teeth, nodding obediently.

“Need something to bite down on, my beautiful Eve?” He murmurs, gathering you up in his arms and pushing until he’s flush against you, tilting his head to expose his neck. “Do it, it’s okay.”

You wind your arms around his shoulder and lean forward, and when Andrei feels your lips on his neck, his whole body shivers, groaning at the way he can feel your teeth bite down before licking over the wound, then sucking a bruise into the skin.

That’s another thing the two of you don’t give a shit about anymore.

Andrei’s all too proud to wear your marks like a badge of honor, so as you suck on his skin, feeling his pulse beneath your tongue, he knows you take notice of the way his cock drives deeper into you.

He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to manage a second round in this closet, too desperate to fill you up and then drag you home so he can do it over and over again.

When his hips stutter a little, you finally pull away from his neck, leaning back to examine your work, smiling proudly. “Such a pretty little thing, moye yabloko.”

Fuck.

It is just like the first night all over again.

Andrei remembers the dirty things you whispered to him then, too. He remembers how he’d never heard something so sultry, so sexy in his entire life. It somehow made him hornier, made him feel like he could go insane with how much it made him need you even more in that moment.

It was like you knew exactly what to say and what to do to drive him insane, to make him feel like he would do anything to prove to you just how good he could be.

“You’re the same good boy you were that first night, too,” You taunt again when he doesn’t respond, and a sharp hiss falls from his lips when you tug his hair harshly, prompting him to tilt his head up so he can look at you.

His knees nearly buckle, and he thrusts hard into you once in warning.

“You can’t say things like that,” he breathes out, focusing on fucking into you in deep, hard strokes.

“Why?” You breathe out, bringing your hands from his shoulders and tossing the hat of his costume off of his head before sinking your fingers into his hair.

He shakes his head. Any other man might be embarrassed, but that’s never been a thing between the two of you, and especially not when you’re being intimate.

“It makes me…u menya babochki.” Andrei admits, trying his best to stay focused. I get butterflies.

“Babochki?” You ask, tone just shy of a whine, slightly mocking him. “Do I give my pretty shchenok butterflies?”

He looks up when he feels your hand on his cheek, staring into your eyes, and he can feel himself getting closer to his orgasm just looking at you. You run your thumb over his lips as they part, resting the pad of it on his tongue before his cheeks hollow, sucking gently on the digit.

You smirk, eyes rolling back in your head when Andrei gives a particularly hard thrust, causing your back to arch a little more and your body to press further against his. He can tell you’re getting closer, can read all your little tells.

The way your chest starts to heave, how he can see your nipples starting to poke through the fabric of your dress, the way your body starts to go lax, thumb slipping from his mouth and hand moving to rest on his chest instead.

“You gonna come for me?” You ask, tone somewhere between taunting and begging.

Andrei nods furiously, welcoming the molten lava spreading across his spine as he finds solace inside of you. “Da, moya koroleva.”

“Gonna come inside of me?” This question is definitely a taunt. “Gonna fill up the pretty stranger the very first night?”

“I did it once,” he reminds you. “I’d do it again, but only for you.”

Your blinding, satisfied smile takes over your face and Andrei feels his heart fall to your feet in adoration. “Come with me,” he begs.

You nod, tilting your hips a little until he’s hitting that beautiful spot inside, and your eyes flutter shut, pussy squeezing tighter around him.

He loses all control after that, cock pounding into you in a frenzied, nearly manic pace, trying so hard to keep going for you while also chasing his own orgasm.

When he feels you lock him in that familiar death grip, your come drenching his cock and making the slide oh so right, his eyes squeeze shut, and a loud, satisfied groan leaves his mouth as he throbs, spilling inside of you until he feels like he can’t breathe right.

For a moment, the two of you can only remain like that - you slumped and sated in Andrei’s arms and his hips pinning you to the wall.

When he feels you begin to squirm, he carefully pulls out of you, then sets you back on your own two feet as gently as he can. He’s quick to locate a stack of paper towels behind him and grabs a few to help you clean up before pulling your thong back into place and tossing the paper towels into a trash can near the door.

“Do I look okay?” You ask, fussing with your dress.

Andrei nods, letting out a content sigh. “Beautiful as always. What about me?”

When you glance up at him, Andrei’s expecting the same, but then you blink, and a surprised laugh practically barks out of you. It startles him a little, and your hand is flying to cover your mouth, eyes glistening with delight.

“What?” He presses, starting to fuss with his own costume. “What is it?”

“Drei, how hard did you come?” You ask through fits of giggles.

“You said like the first night, so pretty hard.” He admits, unashamed. “Why?”

“You’re…you’re…” You can barely say it through your laughter. After a second, you take a deep breath, calming yourself, and then smile at him happily. “You’re as red as an apple.”

If he - apparently - wasn’t already red, he definitely would be by now.

“How bad is it?” Andrei asks, rubbing at his face absently.

You shrug. “No better and no worse than after a shift on the ice.”

He pouts, brows furrowing. “I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

“It’s normal,” you explain. “It might be tough to explain away when we say goodbye to everyone in a minute, but it’ll be alright.”

“We’re going home?” He asks, already excited.

You nod, shrugging your shoulders a little. “Pretty sure that’s what we did the first night, too.”

He smirks, stepping closer to you and pulling you to him by your waist. “We did a lot of things that first night. And the next morning.”

Your own cheeks flush now, and you nod. “That we did.”

“Feel like a trip down memory lane, kroshka?” He murmurs, already leaning down.

You rise up on your tiptoes, lips brushing against his when you say “I think that sounds lovely, malysh,” before kissing him softly.

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