#but they only talked about it with andrei at first and andrei talked about it with them like he does when they have late night convos tm | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alienpossession · 4 months

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Continuing the Dubai aliens story a bit after some additional inspo by the one and only @cleanstatevessels

The Prince

Story by cleanstatevessels with revision and add-on from me

The alien now in charge of the Prince's body smirk at the reflection of the very handsome, fresh-from-workout Prince looking back. It tried to get comfortable in its new vessel, making several silly and sexy expression interchangably, pushing the Prince's usually stoic and calm demeanor to be borderline unhinged and certainly not Prince-like. But again, he's the Prince now, not the biggest or the most important one in terms of influence among his half-siblings, yet it's not like plain commoner can tell him what to do. Certainly not his brain-fucked bodyguards too, as the whole security details and servants of the Prince in his residence already turned into empty husks that run on autopilot, empty but ready to be filled by any sludge that needed human bodies to ride on.

After inspecting the body's internal organ condition post-takeover, the sludge tried to get lodged in comfortably within the brain and wholly encapsulated it for full control. The movement caused the Prince's eyes rolled back from it socket as his mouth gaped in an unusual size as black sludge was seen coming out of his throat. It oozes out from his mouth like an oil flow and the alien's vision activated alongside the vision from its vessel's eyes, making the sludge able to see the world in a much-more enhanced view as it combined its vessel's vision and its own. The bird in the very far distance, the shade of colors only captured by the alien's eyes, the vision of the alien is better to capture things in the distance rather than close proximity so the takeover actually completed the vision. While doing all that, the muscle of the Prince's body tensed as the alien made the Prince flexed his arm to give access to the black sludge to reach his pits as the sludge lapped up all the leftover sweat from the Prince's workout. It seems like the movement of the sludge all over his body turned him on as the outline of the Prince's cock straining its brief and had a damp patch on the tip. But of course that was not the case since the Prince is nothing but an empty husk, it was all the alien doing after absorbing all the info from the Prince's mind about the things that turned him on, and the alien just simply enjoyed playing with its plaything, showcasing his control over its vessel. The black sludge eventually withdrew back to the Prince throat and his eyes went back to normal as his gaped mouth also closed. Then, he grinned deviously,

"Ahmed, Yahya, come in here. Your Prince needs some services from his brainless slave!"

Piotr the Firm Owner

After the hard-fought takeover eventually proven to be successful, Piotr resumed the realty business as usual.

It's never a hard day to find new client as Piotr's firm already well-known beforehand anyway, and with Sander, Mike and Andrei spreading the word to their friends, high-powered clientele always walked in and out of the door of the firm. Of course they don't convert everyone that walked in, but with the alien in control, they sharpened the type of client they provided their services for. In his first client after the takeover, Piotr met with discreet entrepreneur named Dusan Kovacevic.

The alien inside Piotr cannot find any information about Dusan, nor the search on the internet resulted in something that can explain how on Earth this person seemingly ready to pay 55 million USD in cash for this 3-level penthouse that has the entire 360 view of Dubai. But mid-way on the tour around the unit, Dusan's phone started ringing. As the built Serbian hunk excused himself to the balcony after saying some Russian words, the black sludge oozed out from Piotr's ear and started snooping to know what is he talking about with the caller. To get the best of both senses, the sludge dangled itself right on Piotr's ear in order for it to not only captured the conversation, but to also utilized Piotr's ability to speak Russian to translate the conversation. The phone call revealed to the alien that Dusan is a major arms dealer with the cover of working on fitness startup and crypto trading and that caused the little black sludge to be excited, which translated into Piotr's hardening cock as the alien mind already filled with plans to advance their effort for Earth's domination

It returned back inside Piotr's brain after satisfied with the intel despite Dusan seemingly continued his conversation. Then, the alien quickly split itself and merged its half into Piotr's saliva that then he spits on the glass of whiskey Dusan asked for earlier. With a smirk, he waited for the phone call to be finished and upon return, he casually offered Dusan with the tainted liquor. With no suspicion whatsoever, the arms dealer chugged the whiskey and not for long, the glass shattered to the floor as Dusan realized something's off. He tried to run for his life to the bathroom he saw earlier, trying to grav whatever is blocking his airway and seemingly filled his mouth too. Yet, his resistant proven to be futile as he slouched head first to the floor right in front of the bathroom. His body wriggled and convulsed wildly like he's being possessed by some demonic entities while Piotr watched in delight of his apparent success. The twisting, stretching and turning caused his tight-fitting shirt to be ripped apart and then soon after, the Louis Vuitton jacket followed suit, revealing tattooed body and sheen of sweat that showcased the internal battle the sludge faced from Dusan's body.

Several minutes later, and in a faster manner compared to the way Piotr's body taken over and recovered, Dusan already on his feet looking at Piotr with a mischievous grin. He looked at the destroyed fabric around him and let out a chuckle as he started to flex his muscle in delight. Piotr beamed with pride looking at his first successful acquisition, certainly the first out of many.

----

Not even 15 minutes after the whole handover process, as Piotr arrived in the apartment's parking lot, an Instagram story from Dusan's account already popped. Piotr smiled with delight looking at Dusan's immaculate form, is this a hookup call for the masses or something? Is he really going to work on his plan to get one new body every day to the cause literally from tonight? That guy seemed ready to rumble though

When Piotr finished with some paperwork of his own in the office and ready to hit home, a DM notification sent by Dusan entered his phone. A picture, followed by a caption that said

"Like moth to flames, everyone want a piece of this heat, not knowing it hurts them in the end of the day. Bet you can guess who is the moth here hahah,"

And then another ominous DM followed suit

"One down, more to go,"

Sander & Andrei + Mike

"Let me go! Fuck, I know there's something up with you two freaks! Ugghhhh get that shit away from me!" screamed the tied Mike as he tried to wriggle himself free while pushing away the cum-soaked socks that belonged to Andrei that Sander teased right in front of his flushed face. As Mike tried to push the socks away one more time, Sander instantly went violent and choked the handsome rich brat until his head hit the headboard behind him. Gagged and gasping for breath, Mike's opened mouth suddenly stuffed with the damp socks that Sander shoved violently that almost lead to Mike's jaw to be broken. Andrei then raised his voice in anger

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? YOU CAN KILL HIM!"

"Oh shut up, when I'm inside him, he will be fucking fine anyway. It's not like he's being destroyed by cannonball or something, relax, he's still breathing,"

Sander then stared at the half-conscious Mike with eyes that clearly indicate something bad is about to happen.

"Yeah, you heard it right. I'm going to get inside you, making you just another dumb muscle puppet to control around. Your body will serve greater purpose rather than this vapid existence you currently have, so you should be thanking us,"

Mike frowned in his last few seconds, the image of a black sludge coming out of Sander's mouth and nose become the last vision he encountered before the world goes dark for him

----

Mike cracked his neck and jaw, opening it wide and closing it in quick succession as he tried to ensure that it's not broken or anything as he looked at the two "realtor" that taken him captive since a couple hours ago. His first word to them

"Fuck you,"

And the three of them just laughing loudly right after, with Mike directly standing up and proceed to hug his two brothers

"What a fine stud this guy is. You two have keen eye for the strong and delectable," he said as he then dropped his grey sweatpants to reveal a dangling 7 inches beer can of a meat

"What can we say? We are bunch of narcissist, so we know the standard of good body and good looks as we based it on ourselves. The brain's good?" asked Andrei as he gently grabbed the dick for quick inspection before he let it flop as he now focused his sight to Mike's face

"Perfect. A smooth talker, with killer looks too. Deadly duo for the humans near him. The wealth certainly put him into an even higher level of privileged brat. Such a blessed young man. Well, I am such a blessed young man," Mike said as he proudly flexed his biceps while his cock goes rock hard. A rather massive grower, as it reaches close to 10 inches when hard and that hardening dick casually grazed Sander's dress pants

Sander found the dick to be highly intriguing because not only it's uncut unlike what he and Andrei have, it's also curved slightly. But despite of the tempting thought to test that dick and see how different of a sensation it's going to be, Sander just coughed instead as he said

"Hmm....as much as we want to help you get acquainted with that body of yours, what we learn best is the fact that self-discovery is more fulfilling and can help accelerate the memory absorption, so here's the key of this unit and we'll let you have your fun. See you next week in our office for consolidation with the Prince, okay?"

Mike just said "hmmm" in understanding as he let the two realtors left him while he checks his own reflection in the wide bathroom mirror. He decided to wrap a towel around his waist, a vision he gained from absorbing the memories that belonged to Mike, and checks his reflection. Like an instinct, he fished out his phone from his pants right outside the bathroom and then posed for a selfie, just like the real Mike would do everytime he stumbled upon a new gorgeous mirror that can reflect his sculpted physique beautifully

The more memories of Mike it absorbed, the more aroused the alien become. When the memories of the countless volleys of load that Mike's massive cock shot into those tight holes and even faces and hands started to fill his mind, the alien couldn't help itself but mimicked the memories as it guided Mike's hands to tug his massive meaty pole. As it gets faster and faster, more and more memories poured into his mind and when it feels this impending pressure right on the tip of his cockhead ready to explode, he let out a massive roar as his body trembled violently with the release of what it could remember as the biggest load Mike ever shot in his life. It went on and on for 1 minutes straight before his body simply slumped back to the bathtub, panting for breath as the coagulating load started to sink and stick to his body. He let out a chuckle

"Guess I'm doing a better job than you ever did throughout your life, maybe you like me in control after all,"

#alien possession #male possession #alien expansion #alien takeover #alien transference #male puppet

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theywantedplayer · 1 year

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Masterslist

NEW MASTERLIST

Smut

All Categories

who i write for

Jamie Draysale

“shit I didn't mean to say that”

Loved so dearly

“Its midnight where the hell were you

obsessed

Doing nothing with you

“my friends are really annoyed about how much I talk about you” “you’re staring”

Sparks fly-Taylor Swift

Thin walls NSFW

Good morning NSFW

Happy Birthday NSFW

"please kiss me" "stay quiet" NSFW

“ it’s okay just breathe” “look at me, please?”

“I’m not leaving”

Trevor zegras

jealousy

“... " " "Wanna make out?" "Sure" “ the second I saw you I couldn't get over how beautiful you were”

“You're kinda cute in this” “only kinda.”"Did you see that?" "You saw that right?"

“someone’s happy to see me” “you bought me flowers?”

Picking fights

he didnt say it

obsessed

“don’t fucking touch what is not yours” “Shh.. I’m here”

“oh hun, i wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard” “you look exhausted”

“first one to make noises loses” NSFW

Just one more NSFW

Moth to a flame NSFW

Long Day NSFW

Auston Matthews

“No, no, please don’t look sad. I can’t handle that.”

“don’t fucking touch what is not yours” NSFW

I only want you

obsessed

I think Your enough

I wouldn’t do that to you” “i’m going to fuck your so hard you’re going to forget that guys name”

“You take me so well.” “Spread your legs wider.” NSFW

You comfort Austin after they get eliminated in the second round

paparazzi NSFW

“I’ve been in love you for years”

Jack Hughes

This is how you celebrate a win NSFW

“Shh im here”

obsessed

All stars

First time NSFW

Jersey NSFW

Shower sex NSFW

Luke Hughes

“ i love you the way you are, okay? you don’t need to change. ”

High and dry NSFW part 2

Bruises

My boyfriends Brother NSFW

Finally alone NSFW

Drunk

“No, no, please don’t look sad. I can’t handle that.”

Quinn Hughes

“im just trying to help you” “Please, talk to me’’

soft spot

“Baby can you please shut the fuck up”

“do you think I dropped my walls like this for anybody?”

"i’m going to fuck your so hard you’re going to forget that guys name”NSFW

you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad”“ you’re blushing” “am not”

Submissive quinn NSFW

Flight NSFW

Brock Boeser

andrei kuzmenko

Nico hischier

Captain NSFW

“I wish you wouldn’t work yourself so hard”

Golden gold

“come and sit on my face and i’ll show you how much i missed you” NSFW

obsessed

Fair amount

The purse

Dirty talk NSFW

Little things

HandCuff’s+Blindfold NSFW

Arber Xhekaj

I wanted to see you

Kirby dach

Freezing

Cole caulfield

Feeling lost

“Why isn't he getting up?”

“I’ll never be good enough”“I wish you could see yourself how I see you”

Talking to yourself

“No panties?” NSFW

In every room NSFW

Sidney Crosby

“Will you dance with me? Please, pretty please!”

“I missed you so much” & “ you bought me flowers?”

“i love you the way you are, okay? you don’t need to change.

obsessed

“Don't listen to them” “Because I know you”

“Hey…..be safe” “ you’re not even listening”

Juraj Slafkovsky

“I just wanted to be held for a while”

"everything about you amazes me"

“don’t yell at me in a language i don’t understand!” “please don’t cry, i’m sorry”

Mitch marner

“you’re crying” and “i missed you so much”

“you were crying.” “you’re warm.”

obsessed

Second Chance

“I get so hard when i’m around you“

Needy Mitch NSFW

Carter Hart

Mat Barzal

“You smiled! I saw it, so no denying it.” and “You’re definitely the only person I would do this for.”

andrei svechnikov

Fastest Skater goes to?

“i’m going to fuck your so hard you’re going to forget that guys name” NSFW

leon draisaitl

“first one to make noises loses”

“come and sit on my face and i’ll show you how much i missed you” NSFW

"so, how much longer do you plan on using me as your personal space heater?"“Please kiss me.”

Jeremy Swayma

“no panties?”“Do you want my fingers?" NSFW

Morning kisses

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fruity-mega-coconut69 · 7 months

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Back In Your Arms Again {pt. II}

[pairings]: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

[summary]:Tara sighs and closes her eyes, trying to keep her tears in as her lips tremble. Why did I even think she’d wanna talk about it?stupid.

[warnings]: my writing, but other than that nothing else

You, Zhanna, Andrei and Bao are sitting in their kitchen, having dinner and talking about random stuff until Andrei speaks up -as he was pretty quiet until now-. “So, Y/N..” He starts and all of you turn to him. You cock your head to the side, awaiting his question. “Are you… or are you not moving in with us? Cause like, you taking your sweet time deciding and it has been a while so you must’ve made a decision by now.” Andrei raises his eyebrows while looking at you as he puts down his fork.

“Well, I mean I already told you guys that I don’t wanna be a burden and I’d rather suffer with……….Tara” You swallow thickly while avoiding Zhanna’s gaze.

“OH come on!” She exclaims. “You can’t be serious! That bitch doesn't deserve you, not even your presence!” Zhanna huffs angrily while looking at you.

Bao sighs and places a hand on Zhanna’s forearm. “Babe, calm down. She didn’t say she forgave her, she said she’s willing to share a dorm with her. Not the same thing.” She tries explaining to Zhanna who’s still glaring at you. Zhanna just huffs again and looks away from you, deciding to glare at the table instead.

“Yeah, Z. And if I really can’t tolerate it anymore, I’ll come here. First thing” You try reassuring her to which she responds with only another huff and a turn to the side. You shake your head softly while sighing deeply before getting up. “Speaking of… I need to get back. By this hour she’s probably asleep which gives me enough ‘me’ time in the dorm.” Andrei raises his eyebrows at your statement to which you only react with a roll of your eyes before going around and hugging everyone then saying goodbye before walking out to the streets.

Although it’s only November, the streets of New York City are covered in snow. The snow that's currently crunching underneath your boots as you walk.

After a good 20 minute walk, you found yourself back on campus and walking to the dorms. Once you’re at your door, you stop and stomp a little to get rid of the remaining amount of snow on your boots before hesitantly opening the door. As you step in, you see -to your dismay- Tara by her desk. You suck in a deep breath and that’s when she looks up.

“Y/N. Hi. Where’ve you been?” She asks, turning to you as the orange light of Tara’s desk lamp illuminates on her face.

You blink once. Twice. And three times before answering her while turning to take off your winter coat and boots.

“I don’t see how that’s your concern and business.” You bluntly blurt out, walking over to your wardrobe and taking out your pajamas.

Tara huffs and bites her lip. “Why not?” But, oh, she knows all too well why not. But, nevertheless she still asks, which results in you turning to glare at her before storming into the bathroom. Tara watches with sad eyes, biting her lip before shaking her head and looking back down at her book.

About half an hour later, you return from the bathroom and sit down on your bed while drying your hair with a towel. You stared at the back of Tara’s chair for a while before speaking up. “ Did ….Chad come around today?” You say his name almost like it’s a disease. One that can not be cured. A virus that can not be killed.

Tara pauses her reading for a moment before looking up at you. “No. He didn’t”

You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but that kind of relieved you. You let out a small ‘hum’ of acknowledgement. Tara looks at you a minute longer before looking back down at her book. The atmosphere is awkward. The tension can be cut with a knife as silence falls upon the two of you.

The silence only lasts about 3 minutes before Tara speaks up.”So, I know we have a lot to talk abo-” Before she can finish her sentence you cut her off.

“Night, Carpenter.” And with that statement you turn off the lamp on your bedside table and lay down.

Tara sighs and closes her eyes, trying to keep her tears in as her lips tremble.

Why did I even think she’d wanna talk about it?

stupid.

Tara thinks to herself before swallowing thickly and letting out a shaky sigh. Her head turns to the direction of your -now- sleeping form. You have always been fast to fall asleep. Her eyes scan your body before shaking her head and looking away as she gets a text. She looks down at her phone.

Chad 😊💕

-hey, Tar. You up?

Tara sighs and hesitates before texting back.

Tara 🤭

-yes. why?

Chad 😊💕

-wanna meet up? 😎😉

Tara feels her jaw clench as she looks at the screen. Ever since you’ve been living in the dorm, she’s seen Chad less and less. She knew why. He knew why. Even you knew why. And Chad is still trying to save what’s worth saving. And..maybe Tara should, too. But she just couldn’t bring herself to. Not when you’re a part of her life again. She’s not gonna let go this time. She’s gonna keep holding you until she physically can’t anymore.

Tara 🤭

-no. sry. Have to study for midterms.

Chad 😊💕

-okay. that’s fine.

But then again, are you going to try coming back to her again? Do you still think about her when you’re alone? Do you still think about that night?

Cause she does. And even Chad can’t bring her mind to peace about it. How could he? He wasn’t even there, nor does he care enough.

A/N: again, it has been a while which I'M sorry for. also this is really short but since you guys wanted a part 2 (me too), here it is.

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #scream fanfic #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #scream vi #tara carpenter #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #scream franchise

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comphy-and-cozy · 1 year

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The After Party

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

Summary: When your new fling Andrei invites you to his joint birthday party, you’re surprised to learn that it’s a past flame who shares his birthday. And surely a double birthday calls for a double celebration — even if that means that you are the gift.

Word Count: 6.3K

Author's Note: Happy belated birthday, @smileysvech! Your bday gang bang awaits. 😘 Thanks for letting me take creative filth liberty to write your ultimate fantasy with my two favorite Carolina princes. Also S/O to @ryanpulock for literally remaking two gifs for my graphic and for encouraging the depravity. I’m not sure if anyone’s ever written this on tumblr dot com before so… enjoy!

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Light alcohol use/mention, swearing, one (1) use of Y/N. Threesome (MFM - no MxM), fingering (vaginal + anal - f receiving), oral sex (m + f receiving (vaginal + anal)), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, anal sex (f receiving), double penetration, creampie oh my god this is so depraved. **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. :)

Masterlist

When Andrei Svechnikov slid into your DMs, you were shocked, to say the least. When he showed genuine interest, asking you on a real date instead of the standard late-night meet up, you were even more surprised.

That was two months ago. Since then, you’ve crossed a myriad of unexpected things off your list with regard to Andrei Svechnikov. You’ve had a sleepover—with just cuddling—and gone out to breakfast, even started a small collection of Carolina Hurricanes t-shirts in your drawer, remnants of late nights and slow mornings with the Russian superstar. You’ve met a small handful of his teammates—always introduced vaguely, with no title to give you any inkling of where you stood relationship-wise, or even how he really feels about you.

Tonight is your next ‘first’: a Canes party. Andrei’s birthday party, to be specific, meaning your man (date? Boyfriend?)—whatever—is the star of the show.

To say you’re nervous would be an understatement, hence the extra shot before your Uber arrives to take you to Andrei’s. If he notices, he doesn’t seem bothered, greeting you with a smirk and a kiss on the cheek.

“You look hot.”

“Well, I have to look nice for your birthday, don’t I?” you say with a shy smile, still not used to this Adonis of a man complimenting you and checking you out so shamelessly. He responds with a slap to your ass and something murmured about a birthday gift later that earns a dull throb between your legs as you follow him out the door.

As you’re walking into the party—at the house of one of his teammates, whose name he hadn’t mentioned—Andrei takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers between his large ones. The action causes the butterflies in your chest to flutter excitedly at the outward display of affection.

It doesn’t take long for a drink to find its way into your hand and several introductions to take place. You’re still just Your Name, No Title, though your adrenaline barely lets you dwell on it, focusing instead of learning names and not making a fool of yourself. While you make small talk with Sebbe, the side profile of a handsome brunette catches your eye. He’s laughing, a crinkle around his eye as he smiles, and there’s something about his laugh that feels so familiar…

Andrei approaches as you’re building the courage to ask who the mystery man is. With his arm slipped casually around your waist, the question disappears as quickly as it came. Sebbe teases Andrei, who blushes and nudges him with his leg.

When Sebastian takes his leave, called to the rowdy game of flip cup outside, you’re left alone with Andrei. He gives your hip a reassuring squeeze, almost as if to say, you’re doing great. You barely have time to process. before someone is bounding up to the two of you like a golden retriever—and of course, it’s none other than your brunette mystery man.

“Svech, the birthday boy!” he greets, clapping his hand against Andrei’s in a greeting. Andrei smiles, then gestures to you, ready to introduce you. Your eyes slide up to his, instantly registering why he’s so familiar—

“Brady?”

You watch as the same realization dawns on his face, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh, shit — hey, Y/N!”

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” he shoots back, though his eyes flick to Andrei with a hint of realization before his beautiful brown irises are back on yours.

Andrei pauses, confusion written on his face as he looks between the two of you. He quickly racks his brain, trying to remember if he’d already introduced you. The memory never comes, though, because he hasn’t, and he realizes a moment too late that you two already know each other, somehow, some way.

“You two know each other?”

You bite your lip, contemplating how you want to approach as you glance over at Brady. Because how do you tell your new fuck buddy that his teammate is your former fuck buddy?

“Brady and I…”

“We used to—”

“—we used to hang out when he lived in New York,” you finish for him, your eyes shifting hopefully to Andrei, praying that he won’t read between the lines and that Brady will take the hint to keep his mouth shut.

“Oh,” is all Andrei says, and in an instant you know that he has, in fact, put the pieces together. Of course, the way Brady’s eyes are glittering as he looks at you doesn’t help, either. You’re sure he’s reflecting on one of the many times he had you crying out his name in his bed after a party not-so-dissimilar to the one you’re at.

“Welcome to our joint birthday party,” he says with a warm smile, and you’re thankful that he’s decided to keep any extracurricular thoughts to himself. “Did Svech tell you we share the same birthday?”

“No, he didn’t,” you smile back, offering him a ‘Happy Birthday’ as you raise your drink, taking an extra long gulp in an effort to aid your nerves.

Brady thanks you, then excuses himself to greet a few other teammates who’ve walked in, leaving you standing awkwardly with Andrei. He’s quiet, toying with the label on his beer bottle, and you shift uncomfortably.

Is he mad? Does he think I’m a whore?

“I can leave, if you want me to,” you finally say quietly, deciding to just address the elephant in the room; Andrei isn’t stupid and has surely figured it out. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, instead casting your gaze to the hardwood floor. You know you didn’t do anything wrong, but you’d understand if he was no longer interested given the layer of complication Brady added to your relationship.

Your words make him pause, and you can feel his eyes on you. He tucks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up to face him, looking you firmly in the eye. “No. I want you here.”

A rush of emotion floods your system, almost embarrassed at his display of affection. He’s never been so direct with you, and part of you wonders if the Brady discovery has forced it out of him. With a nod, you smile as he presses his lips to yours softly.

Later, you find yourself in the hot tub with Andrei, Marty, and Nykki as the party starts to wane down, both the water and the heat in Andrei’s eyes causing your body to warm from the inside out. The conversation is light, casual, and your uncertainty after your unexpected reunion with Brady might as well have never happened.

When Marty and Nykki bid their farewells a little while later, you’re alone with your new Russian friend, who scoots closer to you in the otherwise empty hot tub. Underneath the water, his large hand reaches for your knee, giving you a squeeze. You offer him a smile, trying to hide the effect he has on you.

“Brady seems pretty excited that you’re here.”

“I’m sure it was just the alcohol,” you wave off his comment, doing your best to hide your surprise that he’s returned to the topic.

Andrei hums, and you know he doesn’t believe your indifference, your nonchalant response. You wouldn’t either, if the roles were reversed.

“It really wasn’t a big thing,” you add, feeling the need to clarify—to justify your past relationship. “It was totally casual.”

And then you feel his fingers take flight in a slow glide on your leg. Your breath hitches slightly when you realize, seeing the tiny smirk that creeps onto his face. His movements are skewed by the distortion in the water and the ripple in the surface, so he moves confidently and with little hesitation.

“Did he touch you here?” his voice purrs in your ear, his hand sliding up your thigh.

“Andrei…”

“How about here?” his other hand caresses your breast, your nipple hardening under his touch despite the heat of the water.

“Did he make you come?”

Up ‘til now, Andrei has been more than satisfactory in the bedroom, but he’s reserved. He’s not afraid to leave marks and show his strength a little bit, but you can tell he’s been holding something back, that there’s another layer hiding beneath his kind surface. He’s confident, that much is clear, but you’ve sensed an almost cocky interior that’s been waiting to make an appearance, biding its time until it can ravage you.

“Sure fuckin’ did, bud,” a voice that isn’t yours sounds from the patio. Both you and your companion look up in surprise, unaware that anyone was around.

Brady stands with a hand in his pocket, a bottle of beer held loosely in his other as he observes the scene in front of him. You don’t know how long he’s been there, but you assume it’s been long enough for him to glean what’s happening—Andrei, jealous, claiming you back into his possession. Part of you wonders if he’d want to watch.

“Made her scream quite a bit, too.”

Instantly, you feel Andrei tense beside you, hand gripping onto your thigh as Brady welcomes himself into the hot tub. He’s calm, cool, collected, fully aware he’s riling Andrei up and flustering you at the same time.

Once he’s settled, he takes another swig of his beer before nodding at you. “Have to say, you were one of the biggest reasons I was disappointed to leave New York when I got traded.”

Andrei grimaces, the pulse point in his neck ticking. He knows what Brady’s doing, too, and he’s weighing his options. The last thing he wants to do is fight his own teammate, but he does want to wipe that smug expression off of his handsome face. Fuck, why did your previous exploit have to be him—the handsome Disney prince?

As he watches you and Brady make small talk, playing catch up on each other’s lives, Andrei contemplates. He could fall to follow Brady’s whims, loosening the control he has and blurring the line of who you’re here to see.

Or he could push back. Assert himself, solidifying his place in your life as your man.

And somehow, the second option seems much more appealing.

“Babe, come on,” he says, interrupting Brady’s hilarious story about the time he took the wrong subway in NYC, ignoring the way you giggle. “Let’s go into the sauna.”

Puzzled at the abrupt change of pace, you look at him and watch as he offers you his hand to help you out of the hot tub with a smile. With a shrug, you send Brady an apologetic glance before accepting it. You can feel his eyes on your ass as you step out, the warm water falling from your body.

Once you’re inside the sauna, Andrei turns up the temperature. As he sits down, he pulls you into his lap, easily adjusting your body until you’re straddling him. The wooden bench is warm and hard beneath your knees, but the way Andrei is looking at you is enough to distract you from any discomfort.

His hand glides along your jaw, smirking once he sees the hitch in your throat. Part of you is anxious, worried that someone will walk in. Your mind flashes to Brady, sitting in the hot tub just around the corner, to the times where you’d been in the exact same position in his lap—though, admittedly, never in a sauna.

“I don’t mind that you slept with him,” comes Andrei’s deep voice, murmured lowly as he continues to trail light circles over your damp skin. Relief floods your mind, quickly replaced by surprise when he adds, “Actually, it’s kinda hot.”

“It is?”

Andrei nods with a hum, nipping at a spot on your neck. “Yeah. S’like he warmed you up for me.”

Between his words and the heat of his mouth against your skin, you mewl. Before you have a chance to say anything back, his pillowy lips are pressing against yours in an open-mouthed kiss, hot and full of fire and unlike any other time he’s kissed you before. Surely the steam and the dim lighting adds to the aura, moisture building between your thighs as you feel where his groin is pressed against you.

“Don’t think I’d mind sharing,” he mumbles against your lips, the deep vibration of his voice buzzing on your mouth. You whimper at his implication, the thought of both of their lips working sinful magic on you almost too much to bear.

Of course, he notices your reaction; it’s impossible to ignore the way your hips roll steadily in his lap. His lips curl into a smile against yours. “Yeah? You’d like that?”

He pulls away, only slightly, to gauge your response. You cast your eyes down shyly, embarrassed, which only makes him smile harder at the contrast—shy despite admitting wanting to be fucked by two men. It’s cute, and it makes him want to ravage you even more than he already does.

“Could go get him right now, if you want,” he says softly. “It is our birthday, after all.”

Brady’s eyes glitter as he takes in the sight of you and Andrei approaching, hand in hand. Something’s different though, judging by the heave of your chest and the way your eyes avert his gaze; briefly, his mind flickers to what happened inside the sauna to yield your reaction. Andrei’s confident, smug, nodding at him in greeting. Something shifts in the air as they communicate silently, messages sent through a jerk of Andrei’s head and a sly smirk.

Eyebrows raised, Brady glances at you, hoping to catch your eye. The shyness of your glance is all he needs to confirm that you’re in, and a toothy grin breaks out on his handsome face.

“Oh? You gonna give us both a little birthday treat?” he asks, taking in the way you’re nervously chewing on your lip.

The sound of water sloshing has you looking up, seeing water sliding down Brady’s muscular body as he stands up. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he makes his way down the steps and approaches you, tucking a finger under your chin. Flashes of silver in his hair shine in the dim light. “Aw, don’t be shy, sweetheart. You know I only bite if you want me to.”

His less-than-subtle words make the butterflies in your chest beat their wings, heart ticking a touch faster with both of them in such close proximity. It had never really formally ended with Brady, only a few texts exchanged to let you know he was moving and a vague promise to reach out the next time he was in town. He hadn’t, but you weren’t offended; it had never been that kind of relationship.

The indefinite end to your little tryst is what you attribute to the excited pulse of your heart in your throat, able to easily recall the feelings for Brady that had been left dormant over the last few years. They don’t compete with what you feel for Andrei, but they’re enough to have you buzzing as he leads you into the house.

The next thing you know, you find yourself in Brady’s bedroom—foreign to you, though you recognize the bed frame and the bookshelf from his apartment in New York. You shiver, cool now that the air conditioning hits your damp skin. It’s quickly remedied when Andrei’s firm body approaches you from behind, his broad, muscular chest pressed against your back while his arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against him.

His lips begin a slow, teasing descent on the back of your neck and along your shoulder blade, not wasting any time by waiting for any sort of awkward introduction. You can feel Brady’s eyes on you, observing the way you react to Andrei’s touch, as if trying to remember what makes you tick. He’s gauging his next action, content for now to watch the way goosebumps break out over your skin and take in the small noises emitting from your throat.

Andrei’s large hands pull your hips backwards, until your ass is pressed against a very firm appendage, and you gasp. For all you’ve been worried about how Andrei will react, he seems to thoroughly enjoy the idea of sharing you. Brady’s eyes crinkle, his lips curling up into a smile.

“You like that, sweetheart? Is he hard for you?”

As if to ensure you know that he is, Andrei pushes his hips forward in a short thrust. He accentuates the movement with a nip to your shoulder before Brady’s stepping forward to close the gap between you. Before you can even register the two large bodies you’re deliciously sandwiched between, his lips are on yours in a kiss that sucks the air out of your lungs.

Brady’s hands snake their way up your jaw to tangle in your hair, his tongue quick to find yours as he re-familiarizes himself with your mouth. The feeling of his lips almost instantly recalls memories at the things he used to do to you with them, your unexpected reunion adding flame to the fire. Your mind is hazy, drunk on palomas and desire as Andrei’s hands tug your hips back to afford him the angle to grind his pelvis against you. The kiss is hot, and you’ve completely forgotten about the coolness of your damp swimsuit, your skin shockingly warm as the temperature continues to rise in Brady’s room.

Without warning, four hands flip you around in sync so that you’re facing Andrei, who greets you with a dimpled smirk. Brady’s hands, formerly in your hair, drag heat up your sides to land at your chest, tugging the material of your bikini top to the side to expose your breasts. As Andrei moves forward to kiss you, Brady massages each breast, his lips smirking against your shoulder blade when he hears you let out a faint moan.

“Fuck, I missed these tits,” he mumbles. “They’re incredible, aren’t they, Svech?”

Andrei nods, leaning his head down to take one of your nipples in his mouth. His tongue circles around it, teeth nipping when it hardens beneath his touch, and your hand finds its place on the back of his head to hold him in place. He and Brady work in tandem, silently massaging your body as you succumb to the pleasure, head lolling back against Brady’s shoulder.

His lips press gently against your temple, drinking in the sighs you let out. It’s his turn to press his erection against your ass as he murmurs, “Can’t wait to fuck that pretty little cunt of yours again, darling. You’ve no idea how much I missed you.”

For being a Disney prince, Brady has always had a filthy mouth, never failing to strike at your deepest, most depraved desires. He mouths at your jaw, fingers flexing into the skin of your hips. “Bet you’re absolutely fucking soaked, aren’t you?”

You nod helplessly, gasping out when Andrei nips at your breast, almost as if to say, attention on me.

“Come sit on my face, malyshka,” he says lowly, eyes flicking to Brady’s with a smirk. Once he’s adjusted, laying flat on the mattress, he holds out his hand to help guide you onto the bed. “Face Brady. Want him to watch.”

You do as you’re told, adjusting as you straddle his chest and scoot forward. Andrei’s expression is hungry as you get into place, his eyes quickly focusing on the apex of your thighs and tugging you closer to his face. The man’s mouth is downright sinful, and you can’t help the way wetness pools between your legs as he devours you with his eyes alone.

It’s only then that you glance at Brady, whose hands are working at the tie on his swimming trunks before shedding the wet fabric to the floor with a whoosh. Your eyes feast on his erection, even more beautiful than you remember it, admiring the way he grips it tightly in his hands.

“You still get wet sucking dick, baby?” he asks, and Andrei answers with an enthusiastic fuck yeah she does before he’s latching his mouth onto your core.

A moan falls from your mouth as his skilled tongue tastes your folds with vigor. Brady allows you a moment to take in the sensation, your eyes fluttering shut while Andrei groans against you. The touch of his hand on your jaw has your eyes opening again, meeting the warmth of his brown irises.

“What do you say we give him a treat, hm? Let him taste how delicious you are?”

You’re nodding so quickly that he laughs, helping to maneuver you so that you’re bent forward. With the change in angle, Andrei’s tongue is able to probe at your clit, while Brady guides his length toward your mouth. Eagerly, you accept him, the weight of him forgotten but familiar on your tongue.

It isn’t long before Brady’s head is falling back in a sigh as you work your way down his considerable length. He’s smooth, save for the pulsing vein on the underside, and you let the tip of your tongue run along it as you bob your head up and down. His hands tangle in your hair to steady himself, matching the way Andrei’s hands have now begun to grip your ass tightly.

“Still have never met someone who sucks dick as good as you do.”

Preening at his praise, you allow him deeper, finally pressed against the back of your throat as he groans lowly. Andrei’s voice is muffled, a deep “Fuck” murmured against your core as he reaps the reward of your arousal from sucking Brady off, growing wetter with each sound that escapes from his pretty throat.

Before long, the sinful work of Andrei’s tongue slows the movement of your own mouth, pulling yourself off of Brady’s length to mouth at the base as you moan. Your movements are slowed, distracted by the pleasure that your Russian is sending through your body. Brady reacts seamlessly, his hand gently guiding your mouth toward his balls, enjoying the way your tongue laves against the sensitive skin in combination with the moans that fall from your mouth.

“You gonna come for him, sweetheart? Gush all over that handsome face of his?”

You barely have time to nod before Andrei’s tongue flicks and sends you into overdrive, a loud cry leaving your throat. His mouth works you through your climax, tongue furiously matching your movements to prolong it as he laps up your nectar. A low chuckle bubbles up from Brady’s chest, amused as he watches your body come down from its high.

“You always look so pretty when you come.”

“You’re both pretty when you come,” you shoot back, a wave of mischief passing through you, as though your orgasm reinvigorated your confidence. Brady offers his hand to help you slide off of Andrei’s face—though you wouldn’t have complained about staying there for the rest of the night.

Andrei gives your ass a slap before he wipes off his face on the back of his hand. You can see remnants of you glistening on his upper lip, and the heat between you is palpable as he caresses your face before jerking his head back toward the mattress. “Go on, malyshka. Why don’t you show him how good you look when you ride my cock?”

With a smile, you nod, returning to a similar position as before, except this time, you’re straddling his waist rather than his face. And this time, instead of his warm tongue bobbing between your legs, it’s his dick, hard and weeping as it begs for entrance to your cunt.

You smirk at him, wrecked and panting beneath you, as you drag your hips along his length, grinding your clit against him as you hold yourself up on his muscular chest. Brady’s taken a seat on the bench at the foot of the bed, watching intently as he leisurely strokes himself.

“Don’t— don’t tease, kisa,” Andrei begs, the desperation in his voice near enough to make you moan.

And who are you to argue? It is his birthday, after all.

Sinking down onto him, your mouth opens in a silent scream as you feel him stretching you open. He’s big, bigger than you’ve ever had before, and you’re still getting used to the way he hits spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Andrei likes it, though, smug at the slow way you swallow his length and hoping that Brady’s taken notice at the raw, pleasured moan that you let out. The thought disappears quickly when he bottoms out inside you, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment to accommodate his size, feeling the way he pulses inside your heat.

“Fuck,” you whisper, and Andrei silently encourages you by resting his large hands on your hips for support. He’s patient, waiting for you to move, and eventually you do.

Soon, you’re moving in a steady rhythm, the sound of his thighs clapping against your ass filling the room. Andrei’s hands help to move you on his length, but his eyes are distracted by the bounce of your breasts. Briefly, your eyes meet Brady’s, who’s equally torn at whether to look at your face or your tits.

In a sudden movement, Andrei’s hands are gripping your hips and flipping you over, your back abruptly hitting the mattress near Brady’s thigh. You barely have time to register the new position before his large hands are pulling apart your legs and pushing himself inside you, instantly setting a hurried pace.

It’s a display of dominance, of the ease in which he can manhandle you, like a reminder to both you and Brady who you belong to. He might be sharing with his teammate for the night, but at the end of the day you’re still his girl. He drives pleasure into you with each push of his hips, his hands gripping your sides so tightly you think there might be bruises tomorrow. The force of his thrusts are enough to render you speechless, and your eyes close as you absorb every sensation he brings to life.

The feeling of Andrei’s lips on your jaw and the rough sound of him panting in your ear have your eyes blinking open. You catch Brady’s expression, hungry, as he watches the way Andrei claims you for his own. A fire ignites in his eyes when he watches Andrei’s hand snake between your bodies, the pad of his finger quickly finding your clit.

Instead of maintaining his rhythm and driving you to your second crest, he slows his hips to a painstaking pace. He’s unable to prevent the smirk that blooms on his face at the way you instantly whine, pulsing around him desperately.

“You like having an audience, don’t you?” he teases, accent thick. “You like that he’s watching me fuck you, huh?”

“Andrei,” you rasp, your hands clutching onto his biceps that are far too large for you to hold. “Please.”

“Answer him, sweetheart,” comes Brady’s voice. It’s not a command, but you want to obey anyways, and you nod with a gasp as Andrei pauses inside you, balls deep while he waits for your reply. “You like being on display, hm?”

“Y-yes, I love when- when he watches,” you stutter. “Drei— please —”

“Well, I love him watching you come undone for me. First my tongue, now all over my cock. Isn’t that right, baby?”

A strangled moan is your reply, eyes rolling back as he presses directly against your g-spot, pausing for a moment to feel the way you throb around him. There’s something so incredibly hot about his admission, wanting Brady to see the effect he has on you.

“You can do it, kisa,” he murmurs, his hips resuming their delayed pace. “Come for me.”

All at once, you realize he’s not going to speed up, instead content to drive you slowly to insanity. His calm, confident demeanor is annoyingly sexy, as is the smug expression on his face. The pressure of his finger on your clit sends fireworks through your core, the steady punch of his dick against your g-spot enough to make your toes curl.

Your mouth falls open as he pushes you closer to the cliff, and around a thick accent, he demands, “Fucking come for me, dorogoy.”

You have no choice but to obey, your climax surging through you as your legs go stiff around Andrei’s hips. Distantly, you can hear Brady groan while Andrei hums in approval. The movement of his hips don’t cease, instead working you through your high until your legs fall limply to the mattress.

He sits back, eyes glued to your pussy as he pulls out, pleased with the way his dick is coated in your orgasm.

“Fuck, look at the mess you made,” he smirks. You do, and through the haze of your orgasm, you itch to taste him. But then, he’s turning his focus toward his friend, and your attention shifts. “She’s all yours, Skjeisy.”

“Best birthday gift you could ever get me, Svech,” Brady replies, eyes raking over your body hungrily.

Your cheeks warm at his words, suddenly shy again as you glance up at him through your lashes. He stands before you, muscular and handsome, the streaks of gray in his hair shining silver in the low light of the room. The word daddy comes to mind, but you keep it to yourself, instead watching as he shifts onto the mattress.

“You still like taking it in the ass, baby?” he asks, and your heart flutters at his question. You haven’t done that with Andrei, not yet; you haven’t even broached the subject. But now he’s looking at you with heat in his eyes, slightly surprised but more than that, he’s intrigued.

You bite your lip and nod, unable to prevent the grin that spreads on your face as Brady hums, surely reminiscing on your past encounters. Andrei’s eyes are hot on you, though you can’t look away from Brady’s as he tugs you closer to where he’s knelt on mattress. His mouth is quick to find yours again, his tongue not wasting any time, as if to let you know how eager he is.

When he plunges two fingers into you, they slip in with ease from your arousal and your orgasm. He pulses them, exploring the tightness of your cunt, his dick throbbing against his leg as he does. Brady whistles when he pulls out two glistening fingers, observing at the way they shine in the dim light of the bedroom.

“Be a good girl and taste yourself for me,” he says, voice sweet like honey as he pushes the fingers past your lips. It’s tangy and salty on your tongue, but you suck them obediently, relishing the flavor.

Andrei groans at the way your lips wrap around the digits, undoubtedly reminiscing on the time it’s been his fingers or his dick subjected to the pleasures of your mouth.

Brady murmurs to Andrei, something about the bedside table, and he disappears and reappears in an instant with a bottle of lube in his hand. With both hands, Brady maneuvers your body and positions you so you’re on your knees, your face pressed against the soft sheet on the bed. You feel his fingers run over your pussy, still sensitive from Andrei’s treatment, clicking his tongue at the way it looks glistening with your cum. He catches some of the liquid oozing out on his finger and drags it up toward your puckered hole, circling lightly before he adds a healthy drizzle of lube. Once you’re thoroughly primed, he pushes the tip of his index into you.

A loud cry leaves your lips, the sensation vaguely familiar but strange. Brady takes his time, working you open until he gradually adds a second finger.

“You think you can take both of us, sweetheart?” he whispers, his voice silky smooth. Your eyes widen, connecting with Andrei’s, who offers a smug wink. Damn them and their teammate telepathy, making you feel like the third wheel even though you’re the one they’re fucking.

When you nod, Andrei shakes his head and tilts your chin up to meet his eyes again. “Gotta hear you say it, kisa.”

“Yes, I want to,” you say, though you can’t hide the shake in your voice. Whether it’s from nerves or the way that Brady’s fingers are probing your ass, you aren’t entirely sure.

Andrei’s voice is soft, a stark contrast to the scene in Brady’s bedroom. “If you want to stop, at any time, just say the word, and we’re done, okay?”

His words are comforting, and suddenly you feel yourself throb with desire at the thought of both of them filling you up. You’re nodding again, your voice a bit more desperate this time as Brady adds his tongue to the movement of his fingers, the heat from his mouth enough to make you cry out.

“Fuck, you taste even better than I remember,” he groans against you, lapping up the moisture that gathers around his fingers. Andrei hums in agreement, taking in the way your eyes roll back in your head at his teammate’s sinful work.

Once you’ve been thoroughly manhandled and maneuvered on top of Andrei and beneath Brady, sandwiched between the heat of their bodies, you let out another whimper when Andrei slides himself into your pussy. The feeling is familiar, unlike the sensation of Brady easing himself past the tight ring of your ass. He’s slow, steady, reminding you to breathe while Andrei rubs gentle circles on your waist with his thumb, pressing open-mouthed kisses at the base of your throat.

When you cry out, Brady freezes, waiting patiently for you to grant permission to keep going. As the unusual feeling subsides, you do, turning your head to find his cheek that you whisper a soft please against.

Eventually, Brady’s hips reach the globes of your ass, and both of them are fully sheathed in you. The breath in your lungs has vanished, replaced by everything them. Never in your life have you felt more whole, more complete; stuffed – literally – to the brim in a deliciously taboo way, completely and entirely theirs. With your face buried in the crook of Andrei’s neck, you beg them to move.

Brady’s hands grip your sides tightly as he alters his movements with Andrei’s. Push, pull, push, pull. Deep, hot puffs of breath hit you from both sides, encasing you between them. The feeling is otherworldly, delicious, and now that you’ve grown accustomed to feeling so full, you’re insatiable, crying out and letting the pleasure rake through you.

“Who knew I’d get to fuck this perfect ass again,” Brady muses, breaking the symphony of heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin. “Happy fucking birthday to me.”

Filthy words and promises spew from Brady’s mouth, praising you and reminding you of the many times he’s brought you to a crest; meanwhile, Andrei whispers broken Russian as his mouth marks up your collarbone. It makes you whimper, hearing the way you wreck him, feeling the way he throbs inside of you with his hands gripping your sides.

“I’m –” you pant, “I’m c-close.”

“Yeah? You gonna come all over these birthday cocks?” Brady teases, leaning back to watch the way he splits you open, murmuring in approval at the sight. “What a good little slut, taking both of us on our birthday.”

It’s not until Andrei’s face scrunches up as he hits his own climax that you are sent spiraling into yours, the feeling of his warmth spilling into your core the catalyst for your own release. A loud cry escapes your mouth, calling a jumble of cuss words, eyes squeezing shut as you let the waves roll through you.

“Holy fuck,” Brady groans, “I didn’t think your asshole could get any tighter. Fuck.”

His voice is losing its edge, a little more breathy as he pounds into you, seeking his high. A few moments later he pauses with a loud grunt as he, too, climaxes. After a pause to catch his breath, throbbing wantonly inside you, he pulls out with another groan, followed quickly by a whistle.

“Svech,” he says, “Come here and look at this.”

Another maneuver has Andrei slipping out from beneath you, meeting his teammate’s side to gaze at your backside, dripping two sets of cum and surely looking thoroughly wrecked. In their absence, you feel so empty, clenching desperately around nothing.

Andrei hums before you feel his hand on your ass, pulling apart your cheeks to get a better look. He murmurs something in Russian, pleased.

You barely have a moment to register warm breath and the scratch of his five o’clock shadow before his tongue is licking a thick stripe from your clit all the way up to your ass, lapping up the liquid that’s drooling out of your holes. The sensation is euphoric, if not overstimulating, but he knows exactly what he’s doing to drive you just a little bit more insane.

Brady chuckles behind you at the sound of your whimpers, muffled only by the pleasured sighs coming from Andrei against your center, like he can’t get enough of the taste of you filled with birthday cum. He laps you up like a starving man, and you’re about to push him away when he’s parting from you of his own accord.

With Brady’s help, he flips you over so you’re facing them. Brady’s expression is smug, gazing down at you hotly—as if he didn’t just ruin you, and wants to ruin you again. Andrei, though, is looking at you softly, a sharp contrast to the way his face glistens with your juices. He licks his lips, and if you were standing, your knees would’ve gone weak at the sight.

With a nudge at Andrei’s arm, he grins. “Happy birthday, dude.”

SIMILAR CONTENT:

Sundress Season

Glittery

A Night in Paris

Midnight Rain (blurb)

#andrei svechnikov fic #brady skjei fic #andrei svechnikov smut #brady skjei smut #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #andrei svechnikov x reader #brady skjei x reader #andrei svechnikov blurb #brady skjei blurb #andrei svechnikov x y/n #brady skjei x y/n #andrei svechnikov imagine #brady skjei imagine #hockey smut #nhl smut

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unluckyhoneybee · 7 months

Text

Stitches (Andrei Svechnikov)

He is back, back to the medical room. Fluff.

Nurse/Doctor!Reader.

Warning: injury, stitches, nothing explicit but named.

The groan was instant. When the duck had he gotten that and why had it taken him so long?

"Oh god, Svech"

He chuckled a bit and shook his head. "I'm fine"

"Come in, that needs stitches. You are not fine, mister" You scolded him.

Andrei walked in with slow moves and a smile. The idiot knew how to tease you. He was a damn expert.

"Not that bad, doesn't hurt"

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your things.

"They clear you and you go and get this..."

A low laugh rumbled on his chest when he sat.

"A Puck"

You turned to him. "You got a puck to the face and didn't come to see me inmidiately. You know that it's easiest if the wound is new" You exassaid exasperated.

Andrei grinned and crossed his arms.

"I can take it"

"Sure thing, big boy."

There was something in the way you called him that that always made him smile. It was the way you got all flustered when you realized you'd call him that. Always the same and it still made him smile like a kid.

Many joked about his crush on you. But Andrei never believed it was that obvious. He just had bad luck, an injury and a favourite doctor. That was all.

"Okay, as angry as I am, I have to close that soon. Have you cleaned it?"

Andrei shook his head and you groaned, which again made him laugh. "I'm going to ban you from coming here"

"No, you won't" He simply said.

Obviously, you wouldn't. His little visits were the light of your days. You adored him. As he had a favourite doctor, you had a favourite player. Even if he had gotten cut, the tiniest one with a paper, he would come to see you. A head ache? Svech is on the waiting room, YN. He was always there, he was always looking for you. And you were more than happy with it.

You walked to him with your tools in a car and Andrei spread his thighs. It wasn't very professional, but you were already used to it.

"Okay, some anaesthesia first"

"Can take it" He tried to stop you.

"I know, I just don't want to hurt you" You said. "It's mostly to relax the area, won't last much"

Andrei's eyes had that glow. That only happened when you were around. Your soft voice and careful moves got him like this. I just don't want to hurt you. You cared about him.

"Okay" He whispered.

He let you alone with your work and was actually glad you put that amount of anesthesia. You were concentrated and Andrei didn't know where to look. At you? The ceiling? Down? No, not down, your chest was right there. Eyes close? Too dramatic.

"I can't believe you got hurt right when they gave you green light" You said.

"They?" He asked. "You were there too"

You chuckled. It was ironical. "I have no say in their decisions. I'm barely an intern"

Andrei felt a sting on his chest. You had been one of the doctors that had worked with him the most. He knew there was people over you, but still you had kept an eye on him and his recovery.

"But you worked with me the most"

It was sour, yes. You worked your ass and then barely got recognition.

"I know"

"I read your reports. I know I'm back because of you too"

You looked into his deep brown eyes and took a deep breath.

"T-that's nice of you" You said.

Deception? Maybe. But what did he expect you to say.

"Uh... I talked to the physios" He wasn't going to tell you that at first. But we'll, he was already there.

You cut the last thread and cleaned the stitches.

"What did they say?"

"That you are really good at your job. And that I'm right"

"Right?"

You pushed the car to the side and put some space between your bodies. This conversation was turning strange. You didn't know where it was going.

"That you should stay"

Your eyes rang for a few seconds. Stay. You looked at him with big eyes. He meant with the team, right?

"Stay here with the canes. As our doctor. One of them at least. Officially"

"What have you done, Svechnikov?" You breatheless asked. You weren't angry. You didn't know what you were feeling. You were mostly confused.

"I asked them for a recommendation" He said. His hands were gripping the bed, he hadn't been this nervous in a while. "Some of the guys agreed that you are an excellent doctor, the physiotherapy crew too. So..."

You threw yourself at him. He was astonished for a second, he needed a moment to register what had just happened before hugging you back. Oh wow, it feels amazing. It was your first hug, it was the first time you felt eachother this close. Andrei was glad he had taken a quick shower. He didn't want to hug you with all the post practice grim.

"Thank you" You breathed out. With his hand on your lower back and his other across your shoulder blades, he pulled you even more flush to him. The bed was now digging in your thighs and his legs were caging your hips.

"I want you here"

You smiled and he swore he could feel the twitch of your lips in his neck. Oh damn, he was head over heels for you.

You pulled back and cupped his cheeks. He sucked a breath because for a second he thought you would kiss him. He even closed his eyes when you leaned in and then felt so stupid when instead you pecked his cheek. Only once. It was enough to have him burning from his face to his chest. You weren't in a much better state when you finally pulled back from his body.

"I-I don't know how to thank you, Andrei" It was so intimate when you called him by his name and not his nick name.

"There is no need"

"You got me a job"

"You got yourself a job. You are hardworking and professional, everyone agreed with this. I just had to get them to talk about it"

"Still" There was this inmense urge to cry in your chest. It was such a beautiful thing to do for someone. "It's the nicest thing someone has ever done"

Andrei smiled and looked down at his hands. "I promise it's nothing"

"Well, it is for me. You believe in me"

He nodded. "I do"

You leaned in again and his breath got stuck on his throat once more. Fuck, you wanted to kill him. Another kiss in the cheek that left him yearning for more. If he only knew that you were dying to kiss him too... You weren't brave enough to do it, though. Your nerves were showing.

"I move a couple of threads so you don't miss many games because of this" You said.

Andrei felt the blood rush to his feet. Miss games? He had just gotten back to regular practice. He couldn't miss more games.

"What? Why?"

"That cut. Do you think you can play with those stitches? What if they open?"

Terrified. That's how he looked. But in a cute way. You couldn't avoid laughing.

"I'm kidding. I'm just kidding" You said grabbing your belly. What a better way to scape from feelings than a good joke?

A smile broke on his lips with a incredulous laugh. He adored you. He fucking adored you so much. His instincts won this time. He reached for you and pinched your clothes. Then, he pulled. Good reflexes were enough to grab you before you tripped. And then he kissed you.

You whimpered, kind of pathetically you sobbed in contentment. He had done what you couldn't. With a hand in your waist and the other on you neck, Andrei melted in your kiss. His mouth was warm but his lips were chipped from the day in the ice. Not that you cared when you could finally run your hands over his hair. It was so sweet and slow that you could have been dreaming it. Even when he pulled back and pecked your lips one last time, it felt like a fantasy.

"I-" You gulped and smoothed his hoodie with your hands. The strong muscle under relaxed under your touch. "Wow"

He laughed and caressed your cheek with his thumb.

"Everyone tease me all the time because I spend a lot of time here"

You giggled and nodded. "You do, Svechy. I started thinking that hockey wasn't your game with how clumsy you seemed"

He rolled his eyes and hugged your waist.

"I want you around for a long time"

"Stop... I don't want to cry at work"

Andrei leaned and kissed your cheek. "Do you want to go out?"

"Dinner?"

He nodded quick.

"Okay" A silly smile broke into your lips.

"Okay. See you?"

"I finish soon"

"I'll wait for you"

"Okay, big boy"

#andrei svechnikov #As #Honey bee writes #Fic #Fluff #Andrei Svechnikov x reader

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 1 year

Text

a/n: this one actively broke my heart while writing it and i hope i did the topic justice. title came from a song on @pyotrkochetkov ‘s barzy playlist and i just knew i had to write something angsty for it. a bunch more happy and smutty long fics and headcanons are coming! seriously, let me know what you thought of this one - much heavier and angstier than i usually write 😬 ignore any inconsistencies, i’m not an expert on this particular medical procedure or professional hockey team travel

word count: 7k

tw: miscarriage, subsequent emotions

summary: on a mini trip to vancouver to watch andrei play, you suffer the worst loss of your life. andrei is your rock throughout the ordeal

Vancouver is a fun city - maybe not as fun as Raleigh or New York, but fun nevertheless - and you’re excited that part of the Canes’ Western road trip fell close to Thanksgiving weekend so you could join in for a bit of it without having to miss too much time at work. Part of your goal this season, your first married to Andrei, is to see him play in every arena. You’ve managed a few of the east coast arenas so far, but this is your first time out west. Nykki joined you too, so it’s like a mini-girls’ trip rolled into a ‘supporting our men’ trip.

The team’s there before you and Nykki get to Vancouver, having already played in Seattle two days before. It’s actually been slightly more than a week since you’ve seen Andrei in person and you miss him a lot. You’ve been with him for four years now, so you’re used to the travel and not seeing him for chunks of time, but this week feels extra hard. Luckily, after this little West Coast swing, Andrei will be home for a good chunk of time - the quirks of the NHL schedule are always insane to you.

You and Nykki get dinner before the game, discussing her wedding plans. It’s scheduled for early August, but time is already flying. You’re a bridesmaid, but you’ve been pushing off picking a dress, knowing that it’s not going to fit you by the time the wedding happens. Your fingers curl carefully against your stomach, hidden by the table and the bulk of your sweater, your little secret.

Butterflies roll in your stomach, excitement mingling with nerves, knowing that you’re going to tell Andrei the news after the game tonight. It’s so early in your marriage, and you’re definitely freaking out a little bit, but the idea of a little baby that looks like Andrei is enough to help the excitement win out.

“Martin wants to do Bali for the honeymoon,” Nykki tells you while you find your way to your seats. You bought tickets for the lower bowl, wanting to be in the middle of the crowd and all the excitement. The Canucks fans are already a little rowdy, with warmups halfway over. There’s a few Canes jerseys smattered through the crowd, but it’s certainly an uneven match.

You sip at your overly large Coke, your stomach turning a little. Dinner isn’t sitting right with you, but it’s manageable for now. “Bali’s nice, I mean, so I’ve heard. But what’s the weather like in August?”

Nykki points at you, her other fingers wrapped around her beer can. “That’s what I said! I thought it would be unbearably hot and humid, but apparently it’s gorgeous - 86 and barely any rain,” she grins. “I promised he could be in charge of the honeymoon, so I think we’re going to Bali.”

“Well,” you smirk back, “there are worse places to spend two weeks with your gorgeous NHL player husband, Nyk.”

She laughs and takes a sip of her beer, eyes twinkling. “You have a point there. How about you and Andrei? What are the big summer vacation plans?”

You pause, thinking of an answer because you’re anticipating having a newborn this summer, so a vacation isn’t likely to happen. Andrei’s been floating the idea of a mini European tour - hitting Rome and Paris for a few days each before heading to Russia for a little bit to visit family. But you haven’t really committed to plans since it’s only November and you have plenty of time. “We haven’t really talked about it,” you answer Nykki truthfully. “Drei’s been focused on the season and I’ve been busy with work. He doesn’t like to plan anything before the end of the regular season anyway.”

“Superstition,” Nykki sing-songs, putting her beer in the cup holder as she stands for the anthems. You get to your feet, pulling off your baseball hat and holding it over your heart, humming along with both anthems. You shift your weight from foot to foot, stretching out your lower back a little.

The puck drops and the game starts - Andrei’s almost immediately put in the penalty box, complaining and shouting at the ref the entire time he skates over. His hands fly in the air as he gestures, but his passion isn’t moving the ref at all and he takes his seat in the box, slumping down. You laugh, shaking your head affectionately. He’s a sweetheart off-ice, but on the ice, Andrei is a borderline criminal. He’s leading the team in penalty minutes and you’ve definitely heard plenty about how he doesn’t deserve it.

The game clock ticks down, Andrei’s released from the box and immediately scores on a breakaway. You and Nykki jump from your seats, screaming and cheering with the Canes up one to nothing. The Vancouver fans around you glare and chirp, but you and Nykki just laugh, giving back as good as you get.

It’s pure fun to be supporting the visiting team and you and Nykki thoroughly enjoy yourselves, dancing to the music and gossiping during TV timeouts and slower moments. Nykki gets another beer and you refill your soda, your stomach still acting up. The popcorn Nykki gets is too salty and you end up joining the crowd when they start throwing their own snacks at the refs. It’s a penalty called on the Canucks, which is good news for you, but the crowds enthusiasm is infectious.

The fans of the Canadian teams are definitely a little more intense and vocal with their displeasure with the refs, you’ve noticed. A particularly obscene chant breaks out when Brady dances around one of the Canucks’ defensemen to set up a powerplay goal for Brent Burns.

You and Nykki throw your arms up and cheer, screaming yourselves silly. Your stomach cramps a little and it puts a damper on the celebration and also serves as a reminder that you really need to see a GI doctor to determine if you’re actually lactose intolerant or if you have a gluten allergy. You grimace and sit back down, clenching your stomach a little, which seems to help. The rest of the second period flies by and the boys are up two to one.

The people around you start to shuffle off to get more food or go to the bathroom, now that the second intermission has started. You finish the rest of your soda and shift in your seat. Nykki looks over at you curiously. “You okay? You seem like you’re kind of uncomfortable,” she says, twisting her hair back into a ponytail.

“I’m fine,” you hum. “My back is killing me though. I must’ve tweaked it on the flight over.”

“You want an Advil?” Nykki’s already shaking around her purse and you can hear things rattling around.

“Let me go refill my drink, pee, and then yeah, I’ll take an Advil,” you reply, holding the reusable cup to your chest and getting out of your seat. Nykki pulls her knees to the side and you scoot past her, stopping when she makes a little noise. “What?”

“Babe, I think you need a tampon too,” she whispers, gesturing to the back of your jeans.

Your eyebrows draw together. You’re not getting your period anymore. “Tamp-?” The word catches in your throat and your eyes go wide. Your mind spins as the pieces start clicking into place and, as if to serve as the final kick in the ass sign, your lower stomach twists unpleasantly with a sharp cramp. Tears fill your eyes and you reach down to grab Nykki’s hand. “Um, surprise, I’m pregnant, but maybe see should go to the hospital or an urgent care?”

Half a dozen emotions cross Nykki’s face before it settles on shock, but all you can focus on now is the persistent cramping in your stomach. The cramping that’s been bothering you all day and you ignored, thinking nothing of it. God, you’re a terrible mother already.

“Okay, okay,” Nykki jumps to her feet, squeezing your fingers and dragging you out of the row and up the stairs to the main concourse. Her other hand is gripping her phone tightly and she’s jabbing at it with her thumb. “I’m calling an Uber. The hospital is like a ten minute drive.”

You nod, feeling numb as Nykki drags you along, your feet stumbling to keep up as you dart around the people waiting in lines for the bathroom and for food. How could your whole night - your whole life - have just taken a complete one-eighty in the matter of minutes. The cold Vancouver air hits your face like a slap, shocking some feeling back into your body. You wish it hadn’t.

The cramping is worse, the feeling between your legs - blood - like free bleeding during your period, but worse, so much worse.

Your stomach lurches and you rip your hand from Nykki’s grasp, bending at the waist and vomiting into a bush next to the entrance to the arena. “Oh, it’s going to be okay. Let it out,” Nykki’s voice is soothing and she rubs a hand in between your shoulder blades while your stomach seizes and you vomit again, spitting into the dirt.

Tears streak down your cheeks and your throat burns now. “I want Andrei,” you whisper, heart clenching with grief.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Nykki guides you towards the rideshare pick-up area, where a four-door sedan is already waiting. “I’ll get a hold of him somehow, but let’s take care of you first, okay?”

You let her bundle you into the backseat of the car and swallow back your tears, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes hard enough to see starbursts. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you try to calm down, you don’t know what’s happening for sure. Even though it feels very much like the end of something, you have to find a little piece of hope to keep yourself sane. The driver catches your eye in the rear view mirror as he pulls out of the arena parking lot, his mouth twisted down in a concerned frown even as his eyes are slightly judgmental. He’s driving you from a hockey game to a hospital - god knows what he’s thinking about you.

Nykki squeezes your knee and smiles gently at you, even as she’s typing on her phone with her other hand. “It’s still intermission, no one’s going to have their phone on them, but I’m trying to see if I can get through to one of the trainers or something. Just stay calm and we’ll figure it out,” she’s no-nonsense and you’re so grateful for her taking control of the situation.

Your lower back complains as the driver hits a pothole and another leak of fluid rushes between your legs. The drive is too long and too short all at once and before you know it, you’re being admitted to the Vancouver General Hospital emergency room and deposited on a bed, a curtain drawn around you. A nurse with warm, sympathetic eyes and a kind smile does your intake, her lips twisting to to side as you’re answering her questions.

“I just found out a few days ago,” you whisper, starting your fingers together. “I haven’t even told my husband.”

“Mrs. Svechnikov,” the nurse pats your arm comfortingly, “we really don’t know anything for sure until we get an ultrasound. Try not to put added stress on your body.”

You don’t even bother correcting her about your last name, the Russian name sounding strange in her Canadian accent. Nykki comes behind the curtain, clutching her phone. “There’s about ten minutes left in the third,” she says. “I can’t get ahold of anyone, but I’ll keep trying.”

“We’re going to get an OB down here and check everything out, okay?” The nurse says kindly, but brusquely, and then disappears back into the main emergency room. You roll your neck so your cheek is resting on your shoulder and a few tears leak out of your eyes.

“You didn’t leave any messages or anything for Andrei, right?” You ask. “I don’t want him to see and freak out.”

Nykki brushes your hair off your forehead and shakes her head. “No, I left a few messages for Martin to call me as soon as he could. I figure I’ll get to Andrei that way. Do you need anything?”

“Just Andrei,” you hiccup a sob, pressing a shaking hand to your mouth. Your other hand hovers over your stomach, afraid to touch it. The bleeding hasn’t stopped, so despite what the nurse said, you know it’s a miscarriage. Your stomach rolls and you press your lips together tightly so you don’t vomit.

“I’ll get him here as fast as I can,” Nykki reassures you. While you wait for the OB, she absently braids your hair back from your face, tying it off in an efficient, utilitarian French braid down your back. She talks as she works, trying to distract you, and you’re grateful for her efforts even if they don’t work. All you can think about is the little life that had been growing in you just a few hours ago. Your heart lurches painfully when you realize Andrei’s going to find out about the pregnancy and the loss all at once.

The OB is a middle-aged Black woman with a slight Canadian accent who introduces herself as Doctor Hayes and she doesn’t sugarcoat the news, which you appreciate. “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Svechnikov,” she sighs, looking very much like she hates this part of her job. “But you are actively miscarrying right now. We’re going to admit you overnight for monitoring and will reevaluate in the morning.”

Your entire body goes cold at her words and you grip Nykki’s hand - you hadn’t let her leave your side, terrified to be alone. A cramp rips through your lower body and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. “What-“ your voice is hoarse and you clear your throat, trying again, “what, um, are the next steps?”

Doctor Hayes rests her hands on the guard railing on your bed. “Well, we’ll have you on a hydration IV throughout the night while we monitor the miscarriage. There may be a need for a D and C, to make sure it’s complete and there’s no tissue left behind.” Your face blanches as she talks. “But all of that will depend on what happens tonight.”

“Thank you,” you murmur and she pats your hand gently, sympathetically, as she leaves. You can hear her giving the nurse instructions and you slump back against the pillows, completely drained.

Nykki checks her Apple Watch and grimaces. “It’s Martin. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Be gentle with Andrei, okay?” You reply, desperately wanting him at your side, but also wanting to protect him from this heartbreak a little longer.

She’s back in a few minutes, after the nurse has started you on an IV. “Martin’s going to bring him over,” she says, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t tell him why you were here, just that you started to not feel well during the second,” she says. “It sounded like Andrei was halfway out the door before Martin could finish his sentence.”

You nod faintly. That sounds like Andrei. “I hope they don’t get slammed by Rod for leaving…” You twist your wedding rings around your finger, the diamonds catching the fluorescent lighting.

“They won’t,” Nykki says firmly. “He’d have to be a real bastard to punish Andrei for coming to the hospital for you. Besides, someone should’ve been available to get Andrei here earlier! It’s ridiculous.”

“Let him have an extra hour of normalcy,” you sigh, shifting on the bed, sore and uncomfortable.

You’re moved into a private room and given a hospital gown that bares your entire back and ass. A giant pad that’s probably as big as a damn puppy pee pad is wedged in between your legs to contain the bleeding and the IV is tugging unpleasantly at your skin. Nykki’s waiting downstairs to bring Andrei directly to you and you hope he’s here soon because now that you’re alone, the reality of the situation is sinking in and your chest is starting to feel tight. You turn your head and try to bury your face in the pillow, but you catch a whiff of the lingering Tom Ford Lost Cherry perfume you’d applied earlier mixed with antiseptic and sterile hospital smell and your brain briefly registers that it’s a shame, because you really love this perfume and now you’ll never be able to wear it again. Your heart thumps painfully in your chest, a reminder that you’re losing more and more of your baby with each passing second.

You hear him before you see him, the pounding of his footsteps echoing through the hallways. He’s running down the hall, that much is clear, and when you look over at the door, you catch the blur of Andrei skipping completely past your room before he doubles back and skids to a stop in the doorway.

He looks terrible - hair still damp with sweat, the red mark across his forehead from his helmet is still prominent, and he looks like he got dressed in the dark - or an extreme hurry - in a pair of basketball shorts and his button down with the buttons done up all wrong. But it’s the look of complete panic in his eyes that scares you the most. Andrei never looks that panicked.

“Solnyshka,” he breathes, his shoulders dropping from around his ears. In three long strides he’s at your side, holding your hand, and you finally feel like you can breathe.

“Hi,” you whisper before bursting into tears.

“Hi,” he replies softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. His grip is almost painful, but you welcome it as you hiccup. “What’s going on, solnyshka?”

Insanely, the only words that come out of your mouth are, “your shirt is buttoned wrong.”

Andrei looks surprised, “what?” he asks absently as his gaze flickers down to his shirt. He shakes his head, “I rush. Solnyshka,” his voice is high and nervous, “what is going on? Neci didn’t know anything. Just that you’re here, in hospital.”

“I…Andrei, I’m so sorry,” the words rush out of your mouth on a flood of fresh tears. “I was pregnant and now I’m not. I lost the baby.”

You’re not even sure if Andrei can even understand you, you’re crying so hard. But one glance at his face and the completely shattered expression it wears, and you know he understood you. His fingers tighten around yours and he’s shaking his head, hair falling forward over his forehead.

“What? I don’t - a baby?” He rubs at his forehead with his other hand, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “When did you - why didn’t -“

He can’t seem to get a full sentence out and it only makes you cry harder, your entire body hurting with the effort. You know what he’s asking though.

“Last week,” you manage. “The day after you left. I was going to tell you tonight, but…” You trail off, shrugging one shoulder.

Andrei’s head hangs, chin to chest, and he makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “I’m so sorry, milaya,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

The worst of your tears are drying up and you shake your head. “It’s not…I had Nyk. I hate that you had to find out like this. Baby and then no baby, all at once,” your voice cracks and you trace the little embroidered A.S. on his cuff, barely able to look at him.

Your husband sighs and drops his head so he can rest his forehead against yours. He smells like sweat and fear and Old Spice and your throat clogs with emotion again. “I thought…” he breathes. “I hear hospital and I think the worst. I thought the worst.”

This is the worst, you think. The worst possible thing. But you know what he means, that he thought something even more awful had happened to you, that he was worried he lost you because he didn’t know there was something else to lose.

Andrei’s lips brush against your cheek, soft and delicate, the rasp of his stubble a stark contrast. You sit like that, foreheads touching, for who knows how long. Andrei doesn’t cry, but his chest hitches and you think he might, maybe, when it all sinks in. You’re all cried out and now there’s just bone-deep exhaustion.

“i’m tired,” you murmur, the words getting lost between you.

Andrei nods against your forehead and pulls back, looking like it takes him a huge effort to sit back up. He cups your cheek and his thumb strokes a careful arc over your cheekbone. You lean into the familiar gesture, comforted. “Sleep, okay? I’ll…I have to call Rod. Get my stuff. I’ll take care of everything,” his voice is steady, but his eyes are clouded.

You nod, your eyelids already closing. Andrei gets up and brushes his lips over your forehead, murmuring that he loves you. Once he’s outside the room, you can hear him talking quietly to Nykki and Martin, but your grief and exhaustion pull you under before you can really concentrate on what he’s saying.

Sleep doesn’t last and you’re awake again after a few hours. You blink awake blearily, confused for a second before everything comes rushing back. Andrei’s scrunched up in a chair in the corner, his chin propped up on the palm of his hand, eyes shut. He changed in the time since he left, now dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. His legs are kicked out in front of him, a pair of white sneakers on his feet. You don’t want to wake him, but when you shift, a sharp pain pierces your side and you gasp loudly before biting down hard on your tongue to muffle the noise. It doesn’t work and Andrei’s eyes fly open, his entire body jerking.

“Hey,” he’s at your side in a second, “what hurts? I call a nurse?” His accent is thick with sleep and worry.

You shake your head, the pain subsiding. “I’m fine.” And you are, the worst of the cramps are gone, leaving just a vague soreness and uncomfortable tightness in your chest and stomach. “You should’ve gone back to the hotel.”

“And leave you?” Andrei looks at you like you’re crazy. He shakes his head. “I got my bag and Nykki brought yours back. Do you want anything?”

“No,” you reach for his hand and lace your fingers together. “I just want to go home.”

He nods, looking exhausted. “Me too. I spoke to Rod, if you’re discharged later today then you come with us on the plane. If not, I stay and come home with you when you’re ready,” his lips quirk up at the corner when you start to protest. “Is decided, solnyshka. I’m not leaving your side.”

“But…” you trail off, all the arguments that you can think of fading when you realize that you don’t want to be separated from Andrei, not right now. “Okay,” you whisper.

“Good,” he chuckles under his breath. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“No arguments from me,” you reply dryly, rolling your head so your cheek is on the pillow and you can look directly at him. “Why don’t you try and sleep some more? I’m not going anywhere.”

His jaw tightens a bit. “Can’t sleep,” he replies, even though you had just seen him asleep. “If the doctor comes, I want to be awake.”

You nod again, sore and tired, and Andrei just sits with you quietly for a while before you think to ask, “how was the game?”

He snorts. “We won, but who cares?” It’s such an unexpected answer - Andrei’s never not cared about winning a game - and it startles you into silence.

A nurse comes in a few minutes later, saving you from having to find an answer. She introduces herself as Kayla and speaks in a soft, but firm tone. You’re starting to recognize the undercurrent of apology and sympathy in the nurses and doctors’ tones and you’re beginning to hate it. Andrei doesn’t let go of your hand while she checks your vitals and puts another bag of saline on the IV pole. “The OB will be in soon to do another ultrasound and see if you need a D and C,” Kayla says gently. “But everything else looks good. You won’t be staying another night and I would guess that you’ll be out of here by early afternoon at the latest, either way.”

You nod robotically, not really absorbing what she’s saying. By this afternoon, everything will be over and you’ll for sure, 100% not be pregnant anymore. It’s a gut punch, even though you knew this was coming. Andrei asks the nurse a few more questions before she leaves, but you don’t really listen, focusing on a small stain on a ceiling tile. It looks like nothing at all, just a blob of brown, but the more you stare at it, the more your vision unfocuses, the more it starts to look like one of those stereotypical ultrasound blobs.

You don’t even realize that you’re crying again until Andrei wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Try and sleep again,” he murmurs, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “I think you’ll need strength.”

“Can you get me some water?” You ask, running your hands over the braid Nykki had done. It’s so messy and it feels like she fixed it a million years ago, but it was only four or five hours. It feels like another lifetime, sitting in the arena and joking around with her. From halfway through second intermission to a hospital room at 2 a.m. Certainly not how you were picturing the end of your trip to Vancouver.

You think you must fall asleep again because the next thing you know, there’s sun coming through the window and Andrei’s at your side again, his large hand resting on the top of your head, cradling the crown. Unfamiliar doctors and nurses are in the room and they all speak to you and Andrei, but the only words you hear are “incomplete miscarriage” and “quick procedure” before you’re being shuffled off to an operating room. It all happens too fast for you to even be scared and the last thing you remember before the anesthesia is Andrei by your ear, whispering in Russian to you, the spicy scent of his deodorant filling your senses.

Andrei’s there again, when you wake up, eyes looking red and face drawn. You’re barely conscious, but the sigh of relief he exhales permeates the fog. His hand is warm in yours and you manage a weak smile at him. “Hey there handsome,” you croak and he laughs weakly. “Miss me?”

“You…” Andrei coughs, “I love you very much.”

“Love you,” your words slur a bit. “I wanna go home.”

“Soon, solnyshka,” Andrei promises, stroking your hair. “Soon.” He’s still stroking your hair when you fall asleep again.

When you wake up again, the overwhelming sense of emptiness is what you notice first. Then Andrei comes into focus again, his weight of his head resting on your leg, his hand on your hip. You’re not sure if he’s awake or not, but you gently run your fingers through his hair and he looks over at you, shifting.

“Hi,” he murmurs, dark circles under his eyes.

“Hi,” you rasp back, fingers still working through his hair.

“How do you feel?”

“Sore, tired,” you hesitate, “empty.”

“Yeah,” Andrei’s reply is barely an exhale. “Doctor said we can go, once they give you the all-clear.”

You nod, chewing at your lower lip. “Andrei,” you choke his name, the words coming out like broken glass, “we don’t have a baby anymore.”

“I know,” Andrei replies simply, sitting up all the way and leaning forward to gather you into his arms. You go to him easily, moving carefully and ignoring the pull of your protesting muscles, and bury your face against his chest. He’s in the same black t-shirt and he smells stale now, like he needs a shower desperately, but under that he just smells like Andrei, like home, and you cry into his chest, the fabric growing wet under your face. He just holds you, his arms a strong cage around your back, his hands running up and down your back. Everything in your body hurts, but nothing more than your heart.

Throughout the next few hours, when you’re given a clean bill of health, instructions to take it easy and abstain from sex or using a tampon for three weeks, and discharged, Andrei is a rock. He’s right at your side, helping you get dressed in the soft joggers you were using as pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. He laces up your sneakers for you and carries all the bags out to the waiting Uber. You were discharged in time to make the team flight home, but after hearing Andrei on the phone before the doctor came in for your exam, you kind of suspect that he may have pressed Rod to change the travel plans. You can’t even start to think about what he’s done for you, exhaustion seeping to your bones.

No one says anything to you when Andrei ushers you onto the plane, but Neci gives you a small smile and squeezes your hand when you walk past him. You return the smile, feeling awful that Nykki has to fly home on her own. She’s been texting, checking in on you, and you haven’t answered yet, too distracted to deal with even holding your phone. Andrei bundles you into a seat near the back of the plane and wraps his jacket around you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Anything for you, solnyshka,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Try and sleep, long flight. I have the pain pills, if you need, okay?”

You nod against his shoulder and wrap his jacket tighter around your body, tucking your hands up into the sleeves. Andrei rests his palm on your knee and before the plane even takes off, you’re asleep.

It’s a long flight back to Raleigh and you don’t sleep the entire way, but after a solid three hour nap, you wake up feeling better. Andrei’s asleep when you wake up, his head dropped back against the headrest, his mouth open slightly. He finally looks relaxed and peaceful and you’re grateful, so grateful, for him.

Your whole body still hurts, but your legs are starting the cramp up, so you carefully shimmy out of your seat to stretch in the aisle. Brady and Jarvy wave at you from a few rows up and you wave back, wondering what they know, if they know anything. No one really tries to talk to you, so you assume Andrei told them that you had some kind of medical emergency. Legs feeling better, you settle back into your seat, finally pulling out your phone and connecting to the in-flight wifi so you can text Nykki.

She reassures you that none of the other guys know what happened and that if you need anything when you’re back in Raleigh to let her know. You’re blessed to have such a good friend in her and you thank her, thinking that maybe in a few days you’ll see if she’ll bring Gigi over for some puppy cuddles.

Andrei wakes up about and hour before you land and he gulps back half of a water bottle before he even says anything. Then he tips his head close to yours and whispers, “how are you feeling? Any pain?”

“No,” you whisper back, “I’m okay. Just sore. It’s like being drained after a really bad period. I feel better after my nap.”

“Good,” he pushes the half-empty water bottle into your hands. “Drink.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease, the moment of lightness making you feel a little better. You sip at it slowly, starting to get a little nauseous. Andrei wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean against him, drawing comfort from his solid warmth.

When you land, Andrei guides you off the plane, his palm reassuring against your lower back. It’s easy to let him take the lead and to not think about anything. He’s got both of your bags and you don’t even put up a fuss when he refuses to let you carry even your purse. You’re just too tired.

Andrei’s car is parked fairly close and you don’t have to walk very far. You lower yourself into the front seat of the Lamborghini, muttering, “I hate this car.” Your stomach gives a protest of pain from having to climb into the car.

“I know,” Andrei laughs a little, loosening up. His string of ugly sports cars is a long running topic of conversation. The last one was orange, the one before that a strange green. This one is electric purple and it’s hideous. His terrible taste in car colors is his only red flag. “Next one will be red.”

“Why couldn’t this one have been red?” You ask, breathing deeply to stave off the nausea. You sink back against the seat and Andrei pulls out of the parking spot. He’s driving must slower than usual and is taking extreme care with navigating the roads.

“This one was only 75 made,” he explains again. “It’s a collectors item.”

“It’s still ugly,” you tease, a smile playing at your lips.

He reaches over and takes your hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I love you so much, moya solnyshka, and I’m so…proud of your strength.”

Andrei doesn’t look at you when he says it, but his voice gets thick and he swallows roughly. He continues, “it hurts to know there would’ve been a baby in the summer.” So he did the math, you think. “But, this is maybe the wrong thing to say, but I’m glad I didn’t know before.”

It’s not really the right thing to say to you in the moment, but you can’t blame him. You sniff and nod. “I know. I almost wish I hadn’t known either. It was only a week, but I was so attached to…to the idea of our baby.”

“When you’re ready,” Andrei says slowly, turning to look at you while you’re stopped at a red light, “you tell me and I’ll give you a baby. When you’re ready.”

You nod, unable to even think about trying for a baby right now, but Andrei’s words and his earnest expression make your heart melt. You love him so, so much. “When I’m ready,” you repeat, squeezing his fingers.

When you get home, Andrei runs you a shower and joins you after a minute, soaping up your hair and scrubbing down your body gently. You don’t speak while he works and his touch is nothing but chaste. He’s careful around your stomach and between your legs, impossibly gentle with those huge hands of his. You stand under the spray while he gives his own body and hair a quick wash, the heat of the shower starting to make you a little lightheaded. Right before it gets to the point where you think you’re going to have to say something, Andrei flips the water off and reaches out of the stall for a huge, fluffy towel, wrapping you up in it and rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm. He grabs another towel and wraps it around his waist, gripping your elbow and guiding you back to the bedroom.

You rummage in his drawers for oversized clothes, not wanting anything constrictive on your body. Once you’re comfortable in an old pair of Andrei’s grey sweats and a threadbare Duke t-shirt, you crawl under the covers and curl up on your side. “Join me?” You ask, looking up at Andrei. He nods, silently climbing into bed behind you and gently scooting you closer to him. The warmth of his body is comforting against your back and he wraps his arms loosely under your breasts, avoiding your stomach. Andrei buried his face in your hair and you let a few silent tears leak out of your eyes.

What did you do to deserve this wonderful man?

With Andrei’s arms around you and your heart heavy in your chest, you fall asleep again, but it’s unsatisfying. After a few hours, you need food even though you’re still nauseous. Andrei makes himself a sandwich and warms up a can of chicken soup for you and you eat in bed, a rerun of The Nanny on TV. Andrei doesn’t really get the show - the humor is too specific - but he does like to point out all the outfits that Fran wear and he thinks you can pull off. It’s a nice distraction.

You take the next few days off of work, just to recover, but Andrei isn’t as lucky. You’re mostly fine physically except some lingering soreness, most of your problems are mental. After talking about it on the way home, neither you not Andrei has really brought up the miscarriage.

Two days after the miscarriage, the team is playing at home and Andrei’s right there in the middle of it all. You don’t watch the game, still too raw to watch hockey after what happened in Vancouver, so it’s a little shocking when he comes home with a blackened right eye and a cut across his nose and part of his cheek. “What happened?” You yelp upon seeing him, getting carefully to your feet and reaching up to lightly touch the side of his face.

Andrei grunts. “Distracted, got hit,” he winces when he moves his face.

You feel awful, knowing he was distracted because he was worrying about you. “Luckily it didn’t need stitches,” you say softly. “Can’t have anything ruining that pretty face,” you tease him lightly.

He gives you a tight smile and his gaze flickers down to your stomach, covered in an oversized sweatshirt. You catch his look and brush your thumb over the edge of his jaw. “I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me so much,” you say. “I’m tough. I’m strong.”

“I know,” Andrei sighs, dropping a kiss to your forehead. He hesitates, wanting to say more, and you wait. “At the game,” he says slowly, “Burnsie, Staalsy, they had their kids there. I couldn’t help…I was picturing…”

Oh.

Your heart cracks right over the scabs that had been forming the past two days and fresh pain floods your veins. “Drei…” you’re not even sure what to say to him. You knew he was sad, but you hadn’t really thought about how deep his feelings went.

He smiles sadly at you. “Today, it hit me,” he says, twisting his lips. “We lost a baby.”

“Yeah,” you reply, throat tight. “We did.”

Andrei pulls you close, twisting his hand in the end of your ponytail. “I wasn’t expecting it to hurt like this, when I didn’t even know for very long,” he murmurs and you can feel a few tears drip onto the top of your head. You wrap your arms around his waist tighter.

“I don’t think that matters,” you mumble. “It hurts no matter how long you knew about it.”

You can feel Andrei’s head turn, his cheek pressing against the top of your head. You just stand there in his arms, holding tightly to the only other person that’s feeling the same pain as you. The longer Andrei holds you, the more you feel your fragile heart mending itself, the steady beat of his heart a constant under your cheek.

After that, things slowly start getting back to normal. You’re physically healed and cleared to resume normal activities. Andrei’s not so distracted during games. You can go hours, days without thinking about the baby that’s gone.

Andrei mentions it, off-hand, about a month after you get home from Vancouver, after he’s back from another quick road trip. “We could’ve been telling our families about the baby at Christmas,” he’s clearly been thinking about it.

You nod, a little startled by his comment. “Probably, yeah. Or we would’ve told them already, too excited to keep a secret,” you smile a little to yourself, thinking about how Andrei almost spoiled his proposal twice before he actually popped the question because he was so excited.

He grins at you, dimple popping, and pushes a slim box across the table at you. “Early Christmas present,” he says, answering your unasked question.

Looking at him suspiciously, you pop the lid on the jewelry box, finding a thin gold chain bracelet with two delicate charms on it - the common blue and white Greek mati to ward off the evil eye and a little horizontal cross attached at each end to the chain. You trace your fingers over the chain and look up at Andrei.

“A little luck?” He says, lifting one shoulder. “I saw it in a store window, in Long Island, before we played. Made me think of you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, getting out of your seat to kiss him softly. You trace your tongue over his lower lip and desire stirs in your stomach, something foreign after the last few weeks, but oh so familiar. You’re not quite ready to have sex yet, but it’s a good reminder that you will one day soon. “It’s perfect.” You hold out your wrist and Andrei clasps the bracelet on.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says, reminding you of the promise he made in the car.

“Whenever I’m ready,” you repeat, crawling onto his lap and letting him hold you. The thought of getting pregnant again doesn’t make your chest feel quite as tight anymore, doesn’t get the panic alarms ringing in your head. Andrei’s been so patient and gentle, making everything just a little bit easier to bear.

Every day just reminds you that as long as Andrei’s by your side, you can handle anything life throws at you.

He kisses the side of your head and holds you close, chasing the shadows of grief away.

#andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov x you

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alpacinoinheat · 2 years

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Info about my Goncharov characters

The story takes place in Prague, Naples and New York

Some info about Goncho and Andrey:

So Goncharov is the main protagonist of the story. Not much is known about him, his origin is very mysterious but it is later revealed the crime boss Andrey had his whole family murdered for owing him money and Goncharov is of polish-italian origin (I'm not sure what I want his real name to be yet). In the story Andrey is about 10 years older than Goncho in order for this to work, the actors are the same age but the eyepatch ages Andrey up so it works. Murdering Goncho’s family was one of Andrey’s first things he did after his rise to power. And so basically the story is about revenge. Andrey is half czech and half italian and he operates from Naples but his crime ring works all over the world.

If you asked Andrey how he gained all his wealth and power, he would tell you it was through hard work and that he came from virtually nothing. That's a lie as his family was very well off. The extend of his wealth can be also attributed to all the blackmails, murders, abductions, frauds, thefts and other crimes he and his crime ring commited. Maybe these are the things that constitute as "hard work" to Andrey. Andrey is also a classist and something of an ethnonationalist as he often refers to himself as full blooded italian and rarely admits his half slavic origin.

Here’s some info about Katya and Goncho’s relationship from other ask (some info about Sofia too):

In my own lore, Katya is very much in love with Goncharov but is also tempted by Sofia. To Katya, Goncharov and Sofia also represent two very different ways of living. Goncho is a smuggler but an honest one and Sofia works for her boss Andrey’s crime ring. Being with Goncharov means living a dangerous life on the run but somewhere down the line there is a possibility of settling down and living life through honest means. Being with Sofia means choosing a simpler, cushier life, a life of luxury but it also means being forever part of the crime world. Who will she choose? I don’t know and neither does Katya :)

Also, I’m toying with the idea of Katya being married to Goncho (simply becasue I tagged her as Katya Goncharova a couple of times lol) but I don’t know yet :))

Info about Mario and Ice Pick Joe:

Mario and Ice Pick Joe grew up together in Sicily and were both very poor. They are not related but share somewhat of a brotherly bond. Joe’s darker side started to show from a very early age. He loved to kill and dissect small animals which sometimes freaked up Mario (although he never judged him for his impulses). Joe also talked about joining mafia from an early age, it seemed like a natural thing to do. He never imagined himself as anything else than a criminal. Mario is academically very smart. Joe often said to him that someone this smart could go study and make something of himself through honest job. But Mario was a very cynical person from an early age and thought that the only way people like them can escape poverty is through dishonest means. Also, Joe is just a joy to be around (if you’re not the animal or a person he’s dissecting), he’s funny, great cook, loves music, unassuming but charismatic. And it’s not just a front, he really is like that, he has two sides, one of them is very dark. Mario, as smart as he is, lacks the charisma and is aware of that. He is brooding and sulking and cynical. Lacks the social capital ... and friends (except for Joe of course). He also likes to go to casinos and gamble, not because he needs the money, but he likes winning and he likes the fact that other people’s social status can’t help them there. He’d never admit this to you but he secretly wants friends and wants to be liked but he is just so goddamn unlikable to the majority of people that no amount of wealth can help him with that. Mario was also always ashamed of his humble origin. When the two of them joined the crime world, they joined Andrey’s crime ring. Joe is very loyal to Andrey because he sees him as someone who gave him a chance and saved him from poverty. Joe became Andrey’s best hitman and is free to act on his darkest impulses. Mario became Andrey’s accountant, handling money. But unlike Joe, Mario resents Andrey because Andrey is a big classist and often and not so subtly lets Mario know that he would be nothing without him. In the story, Mario befriends Goncharov (the met in a casino) and will have to decide whether he betrays his boss or not. And will he be able to convince his best friend Joe to work against a man he is very loyal to?

The Naples side of my story is probably my most developed part as of now. I still don’t have everything figured out.

How Ice Pick Joe got his nickname:

Ice Pick Joe's favorite weapon of choice actually isn't an ice pick, despite many people assuming that's the case. He doesn't have a favorite weapon or a torture method. He likes them all. His nickname refers to one specific event that took place shortly after after he joined Andrey's crime ring. One of Andrey's highest ranking lieutenants was suspected of stealing money and giving up information to a rival crime lord. He was subjected to many hours of interogation and torture but still he would not confess. Then Joe asked to try. The only thing he took to the room with him was in ice pick. Nobody really knows what happened in there but it took less than 15 minutes for the lieutenant to confess how much he stole and what information he gave up. Andrey then used this information and destroyed the rival crime lord. This event prompted Joe Morelli to gain an immense amount of respect within the crime ring and ever since that day everyone called him Ice Pick Joe.

Info about Katya and her brother Valery:

Katya and her older brother Valery were born in Moscow but moved to Moldova after Katya's birth. Their moldavian mother died during Katya's birth and their russian father was very abusive but mostly absent. Valery is 20 years older than Katya and he basically raised her on his own. Valery became a high ranking officer in the militsiya (soviet police) at quite an early age, mostly due to his efficiency. He soon became disillusioned by the brutal soviet regime and defected to the USA, searching for a better life for him and Katya. He became a weapon smuggler and that's how he and Katya met Goncharov. Valery and Goncharov fell out during an event where Valery thought Goncharov had betayed him after a heist gone wrong (he didn't betray him, it was misunderstanding). He also hates Goncharov because Katya fell in love with him and choose to leave with him.

Info about Mario and Goncharov:

As for their relationship, Goncharov meets Mario in a casino in Italy and befriends him only to infiltrate Andrey’s crime ring (to revenge his murdered family). But as time goes on, Mario notices all the inconsistencies in Goncharov’s cover story and figures out he’s not who he says he is. Meanwhile, Goncharov really starts to consider Mario his friend and almost feels sorry for lying to him. At some point, Goncharov tells Mario the truth about who he is, even tells him his real name (the only other person who knows his name is Katya). It will be up to Mario to decide whether he betrays his boss and helps his new friend to revenge his family.

#how autistic of me to write this #goncharov

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0sincerelyella · 7 months

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Request: Hey can I request one where Joe burrow cheat on the reader and after some time he wants to be back with her

Drunk and Stupid - Joe Burrow

Summary: joe gets drunk, and stupid. losing his only and every thing

notes: this is going to be very cheesy and cliche but i love angst so let’s go

the ending is so trash i’m so sorry

an idiot. only an idiot would get black out drunk after a game when he has a wife to go home too. only an idiot would follow a girl, not his wife, up the stairs of this strangers house and into a bedroom

he couldn’t even walk up the stairs

he was dizzy

he was disoriented, sick, confused

she looked just like his wife

but she wasn’t his wife.

if was only a kiss, a kiss interrupted by shrimp he had hours ago. but he still kissed her

and her, wasn’t his, her.

the next day, he woke up in a haze. his head hurt, and his heart hurt even worse. his head rested in the lap of his wife, a cold rag in her hand dabbing against his forehead. “good morning” she said, her eyes had bags under them, dark circles, and they were swollen. her nose was red. he knew that look all too well

she was crying

he leaned up to kiss her lips but y/n turned her head. “no, i’m sorry” she sat his head on the pillow gently and stood to walk into the kitchen.

joe sat up, adjusting his eyes to the sight around him. the closet was open, and only joes stuff was left. junk was thrown all over the floor, glass shattered, wedding pictures torn. her suitcase was missing, her shoes, her clothes, all her belongings were just gone

he stood up, his head spinning in circles. he made his way to the kitchen where y/n stood, her head rested on the counter, she was sobbing uncontrollably. “y/n? honey what’s wrong” his hand landed on her should, she slapped it away.

“don’t touch me joe” she said, standing up and wiping her tears. “don’t touch me again” she stepped back, only then did joe notice the suitcases stacked by the door.

then he remembered last night. the night of his stupid, idiotic, drunken decisions. “y/n,” he reached out to grab her like if he didn’t she’d slip away. “no, joe. i’m not doing this” she stepped back

she was slipping away.

“you said in our vows that it was me and you against the world” she was crying more, and pushing him away more. “i guess it’s you, and her now isn’t it joe”

“i don’t even know her name” y/n shook her head. “that makes it worse”

she grabbed the wedding picture off the counter, pointing to it. “4 years of marriage, and you threw it all out the window for a girl at a party you don’t even know”

she slammed the picture down

“just yesterday morning you talked about us starting a family” joe was stunned

his head hurt too much to even think and his heart hurt to much to beg

“goodbye joe” she said, looking into his eyes, seeing her reflection in the color. in that face she married, and loved so much.

she walked out the door and out of her future forever.

—

y/n stepped out of her small cincinnati apartment, taking the elevator down to the first floor. the sun was bright and beautiful. she’d moved into this new apartment three years ago, nine months of living with her parents after her divorce.

she opened up her car door, and drove to her destination. she had taken these three years to focus on herself, sorta.

but she was very happy and health in her own skin compared to the moment she had gotten her heart crushed.

y/n parked her car, stepping out of it and walking towards the practice field. she took a deep breath, she figured it would only be her old friends, tee higgins, andrei iosivas, tyler boyd and jam’arr, considering it was a wide receiver camp for kids. but she was still scared.

as she walked onto the field, she was met with her sister, and her sisters son. “hi!” she grabbed her nephew into a tight hug. “hi auntie-“

“y/n?” y/n stood at the voice she knew all too well.

“joe” she said, taking a hitched breath. he smiled at her “how have you been? what are you doing here?”

y/n turned her head towards a small, three year old boy running towards her. “momma!” the boy called, hugging her leg. “hi jay jay” she said with a smile, “whose this?” joe asked, his face wore a surprised look

“my son, jeremy” she stated, picking the boy up in one swift motion. joe smiled again, this smile was sad. “where’s his dad?” joe asked, causing the boy to look at him with sad eyes

sad, blue eyes

“i don’t got one” he said, looking back at his mom

something in joes mind clicked then

“how old is he?”

y/n knew he knew at this point. she couldn’t hide it anymore. “i’m this many” he held up three fingers

“he’s mine isn’t he?”

y/n tried her hardest to hold back the tears as she nodded.

joe dropped everything in that moment to hug them.

he’s wanted nothing more than her back for the past three years, nothing more than his girl. and now he knows they have a child together

he can’t stay away for her sake now.

“joe, i want us to be a family i do” her eyes filled with tears just as the did almost four years ago

“i don’t think i can ever look at you the same again”

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imagopirateversion · 1 month

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It’s a Pirate Life for Me!

Why I am an adult who still believes in the pirate philosophy and is not willing to change.

An essay by: a person who really hopes future employers will never find this, but will still put their name at the end of it.

Painting credits: Pirate Boarding, Andrey Serebryakov

Can One Still Call Themselves A Pirate in the Twenty-First Century?

There are two answers to that question, and both of them are "yes".

Pirates do actually exist today: there were around 120 incidents of maritime piracy and armed robbery against ships reported in 2023 and around 115 in 2022 (source x). So yes, one can define themselves a pirate in the twenty-first century in a very literal sense; which is not what I'm trying to do here, of course.

While the world has changed and piracy has (almost) ceased to exist, thanks to stories, legends and media, the idea of piracy has become completely detached from the practice. This has led to a concept of "piracy" that has very little to do with sailing, stealing, and killing, and a lot more to do with what most things become over time: philosophy.

What no longer exists in practice in our era (and sometimes what never existed at all) has become a way of living: think about cowboys, goths, hippies, punks and so on. All these things are much more than aesthetics: each one has its own vision, its own practices, its own style, its own way of living; in other words, its own philosophy.

This text is about pirate philosophy and its origins.

First Things First: Why Did People Become Pirates?

Piracy did not appear out of nowhere in 1600; it's ancient and we have proofs of it existing as a practice since ancient Egypt (read more here). We automatically think of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries when we talk about piracy because that period is known as the Golden Age of Piracy. Precisely between 1650 and 1730, there were thousands of active pirates, some of them infamously notorious, as Henry Morgan, Captain Kidd, Calico Jack, Bartholomew Roberts and, of course, Blackbeard himself. But why did that happen? Well, the answer is complex but can be easily summed up in a single word: money. The world was changing, and as Lord Cutler Beckett explains so brilliantly in Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest: currency was becoming the currency of the country, especially in England. Ruthless landowners forced small farmers to leave their lands, while smaller tradesmen were challenged by larger businesses. Everyone wanted more, and those who couldn't adapt to the new world's rules became unemployed and were forced to move to urban areas to look for work or poor relief. The cities became overpopulated and soon there weren't funds left: distressed people had no hope of making a better life (source x). For this people, piracy was nothing more than a way out: it was either submit to the new society and starve to death, or rebel and survive. What would you have done?

What Kind of People Became Pirates?

Piracy soon became the best choice for many people. Not only for unemployed men who couldn't find a better way to survive, but also for those who, for various reasons, couldn't fit in. people who couldn't conform to societal norms weren't just discriminated against or isolated, they were often killed. That's why, even though piracy wasn't an easy life at all, many people preferred it. So, who were the pirates?

Sailors usually didn't make enough money to survive, and the discipline was extremely strict. Many of them ended up starving, getting sick, and dying. It's not surprising that many chose to become criminals and sail as pirates (source x).

Teenagers, often orphans with no money or future. Young men might have to endure seven-year apprenticeships before they could make an independent living, while piracy offered them a way to earn money quickly (source x).

Rebellious against the oppressive conditions imposed by their governments, specially from the Navy.

People discriminated because of their race. Black people in particular often had no social opportunities all, but could find acceptance within pirate crews, where camaraderie transcended racial or ethnic differences.

People with a religious belief that was considered heretical or nonconformist by the mainstream society could often find themselves persecuted. Pirate crews comprised members from diverse religious backgrounds and were generally more tolerant of religious differences.

People with a criminal background, who were offered an opportunity to start anew and be part of a community, two things that the civilized society couldn't give them.

Queer people, particularly homosexual men. Homosexuality was a crime at the time, often viewed as negatively as piracy, if not worse. Piracy was a male-dominated world; although for a long time media tried to portray pirates as "turning" gay due to the absence of women among them, the truth is that many gay men were pirates because they were gay. Homosexuality was so common among pirates that they had something very similar to same-sex marriage. It was called "matelotage": a legal civil union that bound two sailors together in an informal partnership, uniting one's fortune and future to the other's, and was respected by ship captains and pirate crews (source x).

Women. The majority of pirates were men, but not all of them. In a world that was not at all kind to young girls and women in general, it was not uncommon for them to disguise themselves as men or marry a pirate in order to become one. There have been notorious women pirates, some of them captains, such as Zheng Yi Sao or Huang Bamei (source x).

In short, outcasts. Individuals rejected by society, unable to find their place, and unwilling to conform to strict societal rules.

The Adventurers

There were a few people, a minority of course, who willingly chose piracy even though they had a normal, conforming, and even wealthy life. It's the case of Stede Bonnet, The Gentleman Pirate; he was born into a wealthy English family and inherited the family estate after his father's death in 1694. Despite his lack of sailing experience, Bonnet decided he should turn to piracy in the spring of 1717. He bought a sailing vessel, the Revenge, and travelled with his paid crew, capturing other vessels and burning other Barbadian ships. His story, apart from giving us one of the best pirate stories in the history of media, is significant because it provides evidence that piracy wasn't just about necessity; it was about identity. Piracy had become a way of life long before it was romanticized by the media.

The Pirate Life

What was it about pirate life that was so tempting for so many people? Life on a ship wasn't easy at all; the work was tough, the food was poor, and anyone could die at any moment, whether due to illness, sinking, or murder. Nevertheless, there was something that made it all worthwhile: freedom. People who have had no possibilities nor future in society found in piracy the opportunity to live by their own rules. Civilization's norms had no reason to exist in an uncivilized society; no master telling you what to do, no morality, no societal standards, no need to impress or perform. If you wanted something, you simply had to find a way to get it. That meant you could possibly starve to death, but it also meant that you had a chance of getting everything you had ever desired, and eating and drinking until you died, and in the civilized society you didn't have that chance. You could choose to sail and never touch land again; you could choose to marry or not to marry, to have a family or not to have one, to sleep with whomever you wanted to, to practice your religion. You could change your name and be who you wanted to be. Pirate life was the realization of that question most of us have asked ourselves at least once: 'What if I disappear tomorrow and start all over again somewhere else?'.

Piracy in the Modern World

In our eastern, civilized, technological, capitalist society, we don't need to be part of a crew and sail to be pirates. Piracy as a practice was defeated thanks to pirate hunting in the eighteenth century, but you can't kill an idea, can you? Ideas not only persist, they evolve and adapt to the changes they're forced to face. When we say "pirate" in today's world, we mean a lot of different things:

Sea Pirate: a person who attacks and robs ships at sea;

Software Pirate: a person who appropriates or reproduces the work of another for profit without permission, usually in contravention of patent or copyright;

In Italy, we have a way to describe people who ignore the Traffic Laws, 'pirata della strada', literally 'pirate of the street';

In sexual slang, the word 'pirate' is used to define someone who sleeps around, who constantly looks for casual sex.

The term 'ass pirate' has been used as a slur to describe homosexual men.

In short, the term in today's society is used to describe someone who breaks the rules, whether they are actual laws or societal standards.

If we consider everything piracy represents as a concept, as an idea, in modern society, and put it together, we can sum it up in three words:

Freedom, Anarchy, Resistance.

Freedom

'Freedom' is such an abstract concept it is almost impossible to define. It's widely discussed in philosophy, particularly the question: is it possible to be truly free? As soon as we built a society, in order to gain benefits, we had to partially sacrifice our freedom. We can't freely steal from our neighbors, but in doing so, we ensure our neighbors won't steal from us (at least, we hope). It's a simple concept. However, there's a line beyond which the benefits we gain aren't worth the sacrifices we make to obtain them. This has occurred repeatedly throughout history; it happened in the Golden Age of Piracy, and it was the reason why most of people chose to abandon civilization and sail as pirates, and it continues to happen every day. Whenever a social construct, or sometimes even a law, prevents you from simply existing as a person; whenever your future is dictated by your social status; whenever you're denied free time, enjoyment, rest, and happiness because you have to work ten hours a day just to be paid the minimum wage, if you're lucky enough to live in a country that has one. That isn't a freedom you willingly gave away to have a benefit. It's a freedom someone took from you before you were even born, before you could think and understand that just because everyone acts like it's the normal way of living, it doesn't mean it has to be that way.

Anarchy

It is true that, at least concerning crews, pirate society had a sort of hierarchy, in which the Captain of the ship was at the top. However, it is also true that this hierarchy could collapse at any given moment, considering the possibility of a mutiny, and that, in general, pirate society was anarchic. There has been research on the functioning of pirate society, particularly regarding its potential application in a hypothetical modern society where the value of human life and individual needs are more considered than they were during that era. Most of the work in that sense has been done by Peter Lamborn Wilson in his 1995 book 'Pirate Utopias: Moorish Corsairs & European Renegadoes'. He provides a definition of what he calls 'Pirate Utopias', that are described as "Early forms of autonomous proto-anarchist societies in that they operated beyond the reach of governments and embraced unrestricted freedom" (source x). I highly recommend reading his work and all the other research that followed it if you want to go into detail, because that's not what I'm going to do here (for now).

That being said, this is my personal take on the matter:

In our days, the discussion about Anarchy as a political belief is often ridiculed and reduced to a mere "if there were no rules, people would kill each other". That statement is true; people would. What is usually misunderstood and not taken into consideration is that people who profess to believe in Anarchy do not mean we should abolish every existing law overnight and see what happens. With 'Anarchy,' we mean a hypothetical society in which individuals are free to do as they please, and they willingly choose not to kill, steal, and hurt others because they have no interest in doing so. This hypothetical society is, of course, unachievable; it's what is called a utopia.

Most political beliefs are based on utopias (or dystopias, depending on your vision of them), because a society that strictly adheres to a pure political system is impossible to achieve. There cannot be a perfect socialist society, nor a perfect communist one, nor a perfect capitalist one, and of course, there cannot be a perfect anarchist society. What we can do, though, is aspire to one—or, to use a naval metaphor, we can set the course towards it. We can make decisions, take actions, and build societies around a specific vision.

The western society, for example, tends to a capitalistic system; in brief, money are what our society revolves around. The more money you possess, the more power you wield; your ultimate goal in life must be to gain money so that you can afford basic necessities: food, housing, healthcare and so on. Everything is privatized, leading to the rich getting richer and the poor getting poorer, being exploited by people whose only purpose is to become even more rich. Consequently, you are forced to wake up every morning at 6 am to work ten-hour shifts for minimum wage. Don't like it? You're free not to live in the capitalist society. You'll probably starve to death, end up living on the street, be marginalized, isolated, persecuted, but still. You're "free" to do it. Of course, this is not a "perfect" capitalist society, it can't be; not until Democracy exists, not until Resistance exists. Still, our society tends towards it.

'Anarchy' doesn't mean we should live in a society with no rules; it simply means we should strive towards it and build a society that is as similar as possible to that utopia, prioritizing the freedom of the individual, but without causing collapse.

Resistance

Most pirates were hardly educated enough to even understand all of that as a concept, of course. They didn't fight for a political idea, most of them fought to survive. Even though it wasn't a utopian society, they still had a shared belief: dissent. Being an outcast means to be disillusioned in how 'mainstream' society works, and we know most of them were, considering their social background. Piracy was, in its own way, a movement of resistance.

Times have changed, and we don't have to engage in naval battles to resist. As society evolved, resistance as a practice evolved with it, and hence Western society has become less and less violent, as have the harmless but powerful acts of resistance.

Every time you protest, you are resisting. Every time you talk back, you expose a normalized injustice, you rebel towards an unfair authority, you say 'no', you go against what's expected from you, you are unapologetically yourself, you refuse to adapt, you decide to ignore or bypass a senseless law, you are resisting. Every time you prioritize your free time over money, you challenge beauty standards, you don't accept a 'that's how it was always done' as a justification. Even when you have fun harder than how you're supposed to, when you rejoice louder than how's considered appropriate, every time you dance like no one is watching you, you are, somehow, resisting.

Piracy in Media

Much of our perception of things we haven't directly experienced is filtered and conditioned by media. Even when we study historical periods like the Medieval Age or the Roman Empire, a part of our understanding will always be influenced by the media we've consumed about them. This is because media is often how we were introduced to these subjects: you can get very passionate about Indiana Jones, and so get interested in studying the pyramids and ancient Egypt, only to find out pyramids are nothing like it was portrayed in the movies. Nevertheless, you got interested in studying them in the first place because of Indiana Jones, so as much as you understand and accept that that isn't the truth behind ancient Egypt, you can also accept that Indiana Jones is part of your vision of it, and that cannot change. I know Pirates of the Caribbean isn't historically accurate, as much as Our Flag Means Death and Monkey Island aren't; still, I cannot deny that they have a role in creating a general vision of Pirate Philosophy in the modern world.

There are, in my opinion, three main aspects that come out from the combination of what we know about Piracy as a historical reality and as it's portrayed by media, and those are Hedonism, Nomadism and Camaraderie.

Hedonism

Hedonism is defined as 'the prioritization of pleasure in one's lifestyle, actions, or thoughts'. It's a recurring theme in the portrayal of pirate society; from songs, to movies where Tortuga is depicted as a place where people drink, eat, have sex and fight as they please, to legends that speak of treasures to be found so one can live a life of excess.

The reason for this is related to what we already know about the history of pirates, particularly the society they escaped from. The society of the seventeenth century was extremely strict, both morally and legislatively. Sex outside of marriage was out of the question, and many things that we consider normal today were seen as affronts to decency, often punishable. To be considered a respectable man or woman, one had to follow certain rules. Additionally, many pirates came from backgrounds of extreme poverty, making them prone to indulging in every kind of pleasure when they could.

Hedonism isn't just a perpetual search for pleasure; it's actually an ethical philosophy that is grounded in pleasure (defined as the avoidance of pain as much as possible) as the only intrinsic value and therefore the only reasonable expression of ethical good. This philosophy of life can be easily connected to the anarchist society that we described earlier; a society that doesn't have rules and in which you don't have a 'place' or need to 'contribute,' since your only purpose as an individual is to pursue pleasure.

I personally believe in Hedonism as an ethical philosophy, particularly Psychological Hedonism, as much as my research of pleasure doesn't prevail on someone else's.

Nomadism

One of the things that fascinated me the most about the Pirate Life as portrayed in media, was the idea of embarking on a journey that would never end. Our society is a stationary one, and I actually think there's nothing wrong with that. My perspective on this matter has nothing to do with morality, ideology, or politics. Being stationary is good; the human species would have never evolved if it didn't stop and build the world as we know it. This is simply a personal preference and stems from my absolute intolerance and repulsion at the idea of being born and dying in the same place. I've always yearned to explore, to see as much of the world as I could. The concept of 'borders' has always bothered me; I firmly believe in cultural exchanges and in learning about how other human beings live in different parts of the world. Of course, I acknowledge that without nations, traditions, and populations that are local and bound to their territories, there wouldn't even be cultures to discover or different societies to explore. So, this is about me, not a hypothetical, utopian society. I'm the one who always wanted to travel without ever stopping; I've never felt like I belonged in any one place or that there's a good enough reason to settle in a single nation and miss out on all that there is to see out there.

Camaraderie

Pirates encompassed men and women with all different kinds of backgrounds, nationalities, beliefs, ideologies and identities. While we speak in absolutes, in a society with no moral or legislative boundaries, factors such as who you were, where you came from, who you slept with, or what you believed in simply didn't matter. You were a pirate, and that was enough.

The official definition of camaraderie is:

"A feeling of friendliness towards people that you work or share an experience with".

In this case, we could even say "towards people that you share a lifestyle with". Being realistic, in a historically accurate pirate society, it's plausible that hate towards differences and minorities still existed, considering the strict and mentally bigoted society most pirates came from. However, we're talking about individuals who chose to leave that society, probably because of its strict and mentally bigoted nature. It's reasonable to assert that this particular kind of hate was at least less prevalent in the pirate society than outside of it.

Piracy in media undoubtedly plays a significant role in romanticizing the sense of brotherhood and companionship felt among pirates; we saw Pirate Codes, Brethren Courts, battles in the name of a common ideal, epic friendships and romances, songs that speak of a union strong enough to beat death itself and slogan such as "Long Live Piracy!".

What attracts me the most about it is that camaraderie as a concept exists in basically all societies or communities with a shared aim or belief. However, there are always rules that need to be followed, and the risk of being excluded and losing the privilege of deserving such camaraderie is always present. The idea of fidelity toward one's society, community, or even nation is essential for its survival, ensuring that those in power maintain control over their adherents, citizens, or believers. The pirate society is the only one I've stumbled across that doesn't need it. The feeling of brotherhood within these people doesn't need any kind of loyalty, proper rules or the fear of losing privileges to make sure that the community keeps existing. That's because the pirate society is made up of people who have already betrayed, renounced, and lost all of their privileges to be there. All they have is that sense of brotherhood and friendship. They exist in a reality in which none of them belongs anywhere and that, somehow, becomes a sense of belonging; one that doesn't need to be continuously shown or respected, simply because it's the only thing that keeps them there.

I believe that is the only reality in which camaraderie and freedom can coexist in a society, and I think it's one of the most beautiful and powerful concepts I've ever seen portrayed.

Conclusions

We finally arrived at the end of this... yeah, let's call it 'essay'. It was more than two weeks ago when I wrote the first word. It was meant to be brief and simply a way to put in words an intimate belief. I wasn't sure if I wanted to post it, mostly because I rarely share such deep thoughts with people around me; though, I'm trying to change that. As all human beings I strive to find belonging and as a true pirate, I never found anywhere to do so. So, to find but one person who reads this until the end and finds themselves to agree with my view, it would make me immeasurably happy.

Thank you if you made it this far, even if you don't agree with a single word I've written, because you dedicated part of your time to me, and I appreciate it.

If you find syntactic errors, please consider that english isn't my first language and also that grammar is a made up concept anyway.

Don't forget to be free, to resist, to pursue pleasure as much as you can, to explore and to show camaraderie not because you have to, but for the sake of it.

Fair winds t' ye!

Imago

#pirates #pirate philosophy #piracy #long live piracy #long reads #essay

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