#Brady skjei blurb
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senditcolton · 5 days ago
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How do you think Brady and a reader would celebrate New Year’s if he doesn’t have a game to play? 🥰 I love your fics!
oh this is such a sweet idea!! sharing New Year's with Brady is truly the dream (or at least definitely my dream [I'm a big New Year's romance person])
there are two ways to approach this: New Year's party out in the city or a stay at home New Years'. so, let's do both!
for a New Year's party, I'd imagine that it is something that the team/better halves organize. since it's Nashville, there is no shortage of places to hold the party.
I'd like to imagine a nice hotel ballroom type place, decked out in balloons and mirrorballs and confetti.
Brady looks so dapper and handsome in his outfit, you're all dressed up - I'm imagining sparkles for both of you. the champagne is flowing, music blasting, and you two are just having the time of your lives.
when it's close enough to midnight, no matter the temperature everyone would go on the balcony or rooftop to countdown.
Brady would give you his jacket and have his arms wrapped around you to keep you warm as you all countdown.
obviously, when the clock strikes midnight and the insane number of fireworks the city has prepared start firing, Brady kisses you so fiercely and he doesn't stop kissing you for almost a full minute because he wants that to be the first memory you share in the New Year.
New Year's at home is entirely different.
it's just the two of you, both in your pajamas, curled up on the couch under numerous blankets, watching the Rockin' New Year's Show on your TV.
you both are singing along to any songs/performances you know, munching on candy or cookies or any traditional New Year's food and drinking whatever (I'm partial to grapes and sparkling apple cider)
the most extravagant thing that'd Brady would have planned is a homemade balloon drop or confetti poppers for you to do at midnight.
when it's close to midnight, you two get off the couch and stand in front of the television watching the ball drop
when midnight hits, whatever celebration you had planned happens, and Brady pulls you in to kiss you.
the two of you just stand there, with Brady holding you close and maybe swaying/slow dancing to the refrains of Auld Lang Syne
no matter what you do, whatever you have planned, it's the perfect way to start the new year because Brady is by your side.
send in prompts to help me get over my writers block!!
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behoright · 2 years ago
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could you do a kids night blurb for brady skjei? 🥺
kids night with fiancé! brady
this is late SORRY but I mean who doesn't want this at any point. so. warnings: smut, smut, smut. breeding/ pregnancy kink n cursing lol
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hahahhaha sooo
basically
you guys have been dating FOREVER
recently engaged tho
you had the most beautiful proposal
stuff from your dreams
brady is the sweetest man but honestly
he's wild in the bedroom
he likes sex to be really dirty and nasty most of the time
you guys are veeery private about it
usually no public sex or anything like that
because he likes to have his space and privacy to
literally say and do the nastiest shit to you
and not have to worry about it
he's very good at hiding his arousal in public
there's only been a couple times that you saw it affect him
he'll just play it cool until you get home
we will say this
brady loves the shit out of you
he is 100% sure you're the only one for him forever
the only reason he took a while to propose is
bc he wanted every. single. thing. to be perfect
he feels the same about your wedding
you plan to be engaged for a while and take it slow
take as long as you both need with the planning
he has very much big heart eyes for you
and yes
he does dream about seeing you pregnant or as a mom
he thought about it beforehand but
it took him by surprise when it SPIKED after the engagement
seeing that ring on your finger just does something to him
he dreams about the most domestic shit
coming home from a roadie and seeing you play with your kids
or in bed rubbing your belly
he's actually been dreaming about it
a lot
and he's very overwhelmed by it
every single night a new wholesome dream but it gives him a huge throbbing hard on
he hasn't said anything to you bc its just a phase and
lowkey scared of putting pressure on you
so he's shhh
but uh kids night rolls around
and seeing you mess around with the kids
or hold TWO babies at once
feed them a bottle oof
the fantasies plague him all day long
he's so disconnected and people notice
especially you
but he's "fine, all good. no worries."
he squirts a lil extra water in his face throughout the game bc
he legitimately cannot stop thinking about you so happy with those babies
what if one day you guys have twins
two baby boys that would look ju-
THE GAME FOCUS FOCUS
during the surge tbh
yes there's many kids around but
he knows where you sit in the crowd and he finds your gaze
looks at you ALL THROUGHOUT
does not break eye contact with you from the ice
everyone notices it
you squirm a lil in your seat sjkdfkjdc
he pins you to the wall as soon as you get home
his tongue deep in your mouth
while he grinds up into you
when he takes you to the bedroom he's still kissing you
you're lucky you don't stumble and fall over anything
as soon as he's pushing his leaking cock inside you
he knows he has to say something god damn it he can't hold it back anymore
and that's when it happens
"god, brady, I just kept thinking about you filling me up and getting me pregnant the whole day"
he's so taken back
his eyes, widen. pupils huge
and his whole face and chest get red and splotchy
it takes him 3 seconds to process what you said before he starts hammering into you
"oh, y/n, that's so fucking hot"
"yeah? is that okay? not weird?"
"fuck no. I've been dreaming about you, as my wife, as a mom and it's fucking driving me nuts, baby."
his head in the crook of your neck
he'd move his hands to grab and play with your tits
"I cant wait till these swell up for me too"
"you want a baby, yeah? you want it so bad, huh, baby?"
"I'm the luckiest man in the fucking world, fuck"
"you feel so good, inside, you're so hot for me, for my cum"
sweat dripping from his hair and forehead
eyes are squeezed shut bc
as soon as he makes eye contact with you as you cum
his cock starts twitching inside you
"oh, brady, are you close, baby? you want to cum, inside me? i love it when you fuck me without birth control baby, I love that you can feel how ready my body is for your cum. breed me, breed me, breed me."
he fucking LOSES IT
legs tense
they TWITCH
he fully bottoms out with his legs fully extended all of his weight onto your pelvis
and he sees stars
his eyelids fluttering he's never heard you talk like this usually its the other way around
he groans for a couple of minutes bc it lasts that long
when he comes back down to earth he just stares at you incredulous
"did you like that brady?"
"I'm so dizzy"
dfjdhakljfh he legitimately has to lie down and YOu have to clean him up this time
bc he's so sweaty and lightheaded
new kink unlocked and he might um
attempt to speed up the wedding a lil bit
just to get to the next chapter of your life teehee
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ladylooch · 2 years ago
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I cannot stop thinking about waking up the morning after a long night full of very steamy sexual activities with Brady, and him just being so sweet and affectionate like isn't it the cutest
I'm down bad for Brady Skjei
A/N: This is a productive use of your brain capacity. I approve! I totally agree there is something about him that is... just... HOT. Like, fuck me sideways HOT.
I immediately went to a night after you tried some experimental things in the bedroom. Like maybe it was a little rough and wild, but tbh use your imagination. He wakes up and wants to make sure you’re okay/don’t have regrets. 
Word Count: 536
Warnings: Implied smut, swearing
Fingers rub along the bare skin of your abdomen on a Winter morning in North Carolina. It’s cold this morning, even below freezing, and the chill coming from the windows seeps beneath the sheets, puckering your skin. The feather light touches aren’t helping either. A shiver rolls down your spine and you slide back, pushing your butt further into the hips behind you.
A soft grunt of appreciation moves your hair. Those fingers on your abdomen run up further, then dance across the Hurricanes logo on your chest. 
“Wake up.” Brady murmurs. 
“I’m up.” You say back to him. Your voice sounds shy even to your ears. Probably because of the various touches Brady’s fingers remind you of. Words and noises and positions happened last night that you’ve never done together before. Ignited by two bottles of red wine and a bubble bath, you two indulged in each other well into the early hours of this morning. As if on cue, a dull ache settles between your legs as you move to stretch your calves. 
“Good, I miss you.” He says against the back of your neck. He moves your hair away, letting his generous lips wet the surface. He presses into your stomach so he can enjoy the friction of your cheeks against him. “Last night…” He trails off with a moan.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You gonna let me do those things to you again?” His teeth scrape against your shoulder. Your eyes close, melting further into his body with a content sigh.
“Mmm, depends?”
“On?” His voice is desperate.
“If you make me bacon for breakfast.” He smiles, like it’s easy. Then his grin falls in despair.
“We don’t have any in the fridge.”
“Freezer?” You’re hopeful, wishing you had thought of something you knew you had like coffee.
“Maybe, but if we don’t I’ll run to the store.” You laugh at the determined look that takes over his face. 
“Mmm, I don’t know if that’s going to work.”
“Babe.” He whines, almost choking on his breath. “Don’t do this to me.” Your body shakes with your laughter.
“You’re so weak, Skjei.”
“I’ll be anything you want me to be if it means I get to have all of that again.”
“Start with the bacon.” You joke, rolling to get off the bed. You stretch your arms above your head, a moan coming from your throat at the feeling of your muscles releasing. Brady rises too, watching the way your shirt rides up, giving him little peaks of skin. 
“Hey.” He stops you with a hand around your hip at the bedroom door, nudging his thick thigh in front of you to halt your progress. He leans his forehead close to yours, looking deep into your eyes. “Last night was okay?”
“Way better than okay, Brads.” You confirm, pressing your mouth to his. His hands glue you to his body. “I want all of that with you again.” He grins, pleased with your respond.
“Later. But first, bacon!” He cheers, ducking down to throw a shoulder into your thighs, tossing you so you hang down his back. You smack his ass hard as he moves down the stairs, your hair dragging across the carpeted stairs with each bounce.
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writingonleaves · 1 year ago
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remember thinking that i got this right - brady skjei
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pairing: brady skjei x original female character
warnings: swearing, slight angst, fluff, not proofread
title: “lie to me” by 5 seconds of summer
word count: 2.4k
author’s note: lie to me is my most played song of all time, therefore, i decided to write this in two hours. it’s different than my usual. i think i’m happy with it. hope you all enjoy and lmk what you think!!
*****
Monet Shemer has got to be hallucinating.
There’s no way, as she’s drinking a Downeast, that Brady fucking Skjei is at the same East Village dive bar as her right now.
She blinks three times, even looks away, taking a hefty drink of her cider. But nope, it’s him. And it’s just her luck that he catches her eye this time. She seems him physically react, and before she knows it, she watches him excuse himself from the group he’s with and walk over to where she’s sitting. All Monet can do is watch him as he approaches, eyes scanning over his gray t-shirt, his salt and pepper hair and his eyes that, to her, have always held a distinct sparkle.
It’s been three years since she’s seen him this close in person. It feels like yesterday.
“Hi Moe,” he says, slipping into the seat next to her and placing his beer on the countertop.
“Hey.”
“Small world, huh?”
A bit too small, in Monet’s opinion. She laughs nervously. “Seems like it.”
“Are you here alone?”
She shakes her head, nodding to her two friends out on the dance floor, one of who is grinding against another girl right now. “Girl in the pink dress and black dress are my coworkers. You?”
“Remember Mike Reilly?” She looks over his shoulder and can’t help but grin at the familiar face, as well as a few others from their University of Minnesota days. “He’s getting married next week in Long Beach.”
“Good for him,” she says genuinely.
“Yeah,” Brady swallows. “It’s been awhile.”
“Three years.”
“Three years.” He repeats softly, and the look in his eyes has Monet taking another big sip of her cider. “Has it really been that long?”
“Yup.” Because what else can Monet really say? It’s been three years since she left this very city heartbroken, when a weekend trip watching Brady play at Madison Square Garden had turned into a teary-eyed breakup that had her crying on the whole flight back to Chicago. Three years since she’s been in a relationship that’s meant anything to her.
And fuck, it hurts so much more now, with him in front of her, because she knows that it didn’t affect him the same. They still have mutual friends back from college. She knew he started dating someone six months after they broke up.
(She also knows that they broke up over a year ago. But that doesn’t really mean anything.)
“How have you been?” Brady asks, and he asks it so earnestly that Monet can’t even get annoyed. “You work in New York now?”
She bites her lip at the underlying question in his voice. “Yeah. Same company as before. Just transferred offices and a different sector.”
“When?”
“When what?”
“When did you move out here?”
She hesitates. “A few months before COVID.”
She watches the realization settle on his face. He was still playing for the Rangers then. “And you didn’t reach out?”
“I’m sorry that I didn’t feel inclined to reach out to the person who broke my heart.”
His breath hitches and Monet is slightly satisfied. Good. He closes his eyes for a second. “You know that I didn’t mean to.”
“That doesn’t mean it hurt any less.”
“I guess not,” he breathes out. “I meant every word I said that night, Moe. I really am sorry that it turned out the way it did.”
Now Monet feels guilty at her sudden coldness, because it had been mutual and Brady had seemed distraught about it at the time. She smiles weakly. “How have you been? You like Raleigh?”
Brady shrugs. “I do. The guys are great. We’ve been making playoffs consistently. I can’t complain too much. Not as many options for coffee as here though.”
Monet snorts before she can stop herself. “You finally branched out of your go-to Starbucks?”
He laughs and Monet feels her heart breaking at the sound. “Busted. I’m trying to.”
“Uh huh. You know their cold brew is disgusting.”
“And the sugar-filled frappacinos you got were any better?” He smirks as she rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I thought so.”
“You don’t get to be a coffee snob to me when all you like is beer.” She knows it’s a weak retort, considering she’s drinking a cider and the IPA in his hands is actually one of her favorites.
And he knows it too, as he snorts. He takes a sip without breaking eye contact, and it makes her stomach warm. Three fucking years later and he still has this effect on her. “You look beautiful,” he says softly.
She snorts. “I did come here straight from work, so that’s definetly not true. But thanks.”
“You always had the ability to make anything look stunning.”
Monet squeezes her eyes shut, because fucking hell, he can’t just say shit like that. “Brady.”
“I’m sorry,” at least he looks apologetic. “That was out of line.”
“It was,” she says. She feels suffocated. She needs to get out of here. Where are Carey and Emma?
To her luck, they suddenly appear right in front of her. Carey’s holding Emma up by the shoulders with a grimace. “Hey, I think I’m gonna take this one home.”
Monet can’t help but chuckle. “You need help?”
Carey waves her friend off. “Nah, I’ll make sure she gets in her apartment.” How nice it must be to live in the same building as one of your closest friends. Carey unsubtely eyes Brady, who’s looking at Emma in mild concern. Stupid Brady and his good manners. “Hi. I’m Carey.”
“Brady.”
Monet sees the flash of recognition come across Carey’s face. Carey’s never met Brady, but she knows enough. “You good to get back on your own, Moe?”
“Yeah.”
Carey looks between Monet and Brady. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She appreciates her friend’s concern, but it’s not needed. Brady is a lot of things. Inconsiderate isn’t one of them.
Carey nods as Emma’s head lolls on her shoulder. “See you around, maybe?” She directs towards Brady.
“Hopefully,” Brady says with a smile. Monet tries not to read into that as she eyes her friends’ backs. “Is she gonna be okay?”
“Yeah. She just needs to sleep it off. She got dumped last week.”
“Ah,” Brady nods in understanding. “That’s never fun.”
She clears her throat. “You should get back to your friends.” Once upon a time, Monet may have even considered some of them their friends. But that was before.
He waves her off. “They’re fine without me.”
She traces the rim of her glass. “What do you want, Brady?”
He looks a bit hurt, though with a hint of understanding. “I-I thought I was seeing things earlier when I saw you. But then I realized it was really you and I just, I don’t know. I couldn’t not talk to you, you know?” His gaze drops to the bottle in his hands. “Do you hate me?”
Monet is taken aback by that. She didn’t think it was in Brady to get vulnerable in a random dive bar on a Friday night. When they were younger, it took a lot for Brady’s voice to reach this level of trembling.
But that’s just it. When they were younger.
“No,” she admits. “No, I don’t. I don’t think I ever could.”
“You should,” he whispers. “Sometimes I still do for pushing you away three years ago.”
“Then why did you never reach out?” She flashes back to those months after, endless nights donimated by tears, what-ifs flooding her brain and mornings where she wished she was still his.
“I don’t know,” he clasps his hands together, laying them on the table. “I almost did a couple of times. But I always stopped myself. I guess…I guess I convinced myself that since I was the one pushed you away that I couldn’t be the one to reach out first.”
“So it’s because you were too proud?” She sees him swallow and not respond. She sighs.
“I know, I know,” his shoulders deflate. “Why did you never reach out?”
“Because I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.”
“You were wrong.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”
Silence falls between them, the sounds of Bruce Springsteen echoing through the crowded bar. She watches him pick at his nails and has an urge to cover her hands with his so that he’ll stop.
“I miss you,” she blurts out. Brady lifts his head up to meet her gaze immediately. She forges on. “I wish I didn’t. I mean, three years, right? That’s kind of pathetic. But I do. Miss you, that is. Even as just a friend.” She laughs humorlessly. “I even tagged along with Emma last season to a game at MSG when the Rangers were playing the Canes. I never intended on reaching out, but I just wanted to see you play.”
“Moe.”
“I don’t expect you to feel the same,” she says firmly. Or as firmly as she can with a frog in her throat. “And I mean that. I’m me. And you’re you. I get it.”
“Don’t say that.”
She shrugs. “I’m not saying anything that-”
“I mean it,” Brady says fiercely, a fire in his eyes that used to only appear when he was really passionate about something. “Monet, you’re-you’re spectacular. You’re kind to everyone. You’re incredibly smart. You always put others before yourself. You’re the best person I’ve ever met. Still to this day.”
Now her eyes start watering. “That’s…uh, thank you. That’s really nice of you to say.”
He chuckles, shaking his head at her slightly with a fond look on his face. “You just proved my point.” The smile drops as he leans forward, serious expression on his face. “I miss you too. I still-I still think of you everytime I see lilies. Or when we play in Chicago, though I guess you’re here now. My grandma still asks about you and gets very dissapointed when I don’t have any updates outside of your Instagram. When I go back home, I always picture you sitting at the back porch with my mom talking about the books you’ve both been reading. I could go on.” He lets out a deep breath to center himself. “My point is, is that I don’t think I could ever love someone the way I loved you. And I tried. Fuck me, I tried. But no one ever came close.”
Somewhere deep down, Monet knew a confession like this was coming. He would’ve walked away from this conversation right at the start otherwise. Her heart hurts, realizing how much they still know about each other. She stares down at her hands, biting her lip as he tentatively puts one of his over hers. She doesn’t pull away.
“So now what?” Monet whispers. “We both miss each other. We…I’m here and you’re in Raleigh.”
He snorts. She wonders if he’s thinking the same thing — that one of the main factors that drove them apart was because she had been working in Chicago and he was in New York, where she is now. But he’s not here anymore.
“It’s not ideal,” he says.
“When has it ever been?” She shoots back.
“Remember when you came out to New York and the night before you were supposed to leave, I convinced you to change your flight so you could stay a few extra days?”
She blinks at the abrupt topic change. “Yeah. That was, like, one of the times I skipped class. You were a bad influence.”
“Maybe,” he shrugs with a light smile. “I remember the next morning, watching you sleep and thinking that I got this right. Somehow, I had the dream of playing hockey for a living and I had the perfect girl next to me. After we broke up, I didn’t know if I’d be able to have that again. But you’re here telling me that maybe there’s a chance. I’m not letting that go.”
Something about that and the way he says it makes her intertwine their hands as she gives his hand a squeeze.
“Brady, I don’t know if I can do it again,” she says. “I don’t know if I can put myself through all of that if the outcome could be…this. What the last three years were to me.”
“It’ll be different this time,” he says confidently. “We’re both older. A bit wiser. It’ll be different.”
“But you don’t know that.”
“Maybe,” he repeats. “But I’ve missed you. I love you. That has to count for something, right? Please let it count for something.”
Monet swallows. Love? Missing is fine, but love? That’s not something to just throw around.
(And the thing is, she knows that he knows that. He’s not throwing it around just to do so)
“Do you remember what you got me for our third anniversary?”
His eyebrows furrow. “Uh, the framed pressed flowers?”
Of course he remembers. Her lips quirk up. He had gone somewhere to press flowers from bouquets that he had gifted her in the past. It’s still the msot thoughtful present she’s ever received.
“Yeah.”
“What about them?”
“I still have it hung up in my living room.”
The confession has Brady’s eyes gleaming. “Let me take you out to dinner, please.” He pleads gently.
One second. Then two. And then: “Okay.”
“Okay?”
She nods, a smile threatening to spill out her lips. “Yeah. Okay. Are you around tomorrow night?”
“Yes,” he responds quickly.
She laughs at his eagerness. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Even if I had plans, it doesn’t matter now.”
“Brady.”
He shrugs with a light smirk. “What?”
She just rolls her eyes. She bites her lip, one more question burning through her mind. “And after?”
“Hm?”
“After. If it goes well.” The “if” is hilarious, because she and him both know it will. “I’m here and you’re going back to Minny for the off season, I assume. And then you’re back down in Raleigh.”
“We’ll work it out.” He says it so confidently that Monet can’t help but believe him.
Monet takes one last look at him. He stares at her so lovingly and rubs his thumb over hers.
(The next night, when she opens the door of her apartment with Brady, looking incredibly handsome in a white button-up with lillies in his hands, she lets herself go and kisses him.
He’s right. They’ll work it out.)
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midnightsnyx · 2 years ago
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YAY! Could you please write skjei and reader having their first dumb fight that escalates? Maybe reader says “why do you care so much what I do?” and he says “because I love you!” and they both realize it’s not worth fighting over? Idk if that makes sense 😂
Hi! Sorry, I was away for the weekend. Thank u for the request!! I know this is super short but I hope you like it <3 blurb & instagram edit requests are open.
The first real argument between you and Brady happens about 6 months into your relationship. Your hours at the hospital were getting longer due to a staffing issue so you were working a lot of overtime and Brady was worried you were overworking yourself. You knew he was just worried about you but you loved your job and didn't want to admit that you'd bitten off more than you could chew. So, when he suggests you take some time off you get defensive.
"Why do you care so much about this?" you snap, crossing your arms defensively. You've been arguing for the better part of an hour and you're both getting tired of it so his next words aren't what you are expecting.
"Because I love you!" he shouts and freezes, clearly surprised by his own words. Neither of you says anything for a moment, both taking in his sudden confession.
Those three words haven't been said by either of you yet, mainly because you both showed your love in different ways. Him, bringing you your favorite drink during a busy shift. You, cheering him on even during the losses. There are a million and one ways to say I love you without words and the two of you did it all the time.
You respond by dumbly asking, "really?" and when he smiles, suddenly this whole fight seems so pointless and all you want to do is walk over and kiss him.
"Yeah," he says, walking towards you until he's standing in front of you. He brushes a piece of loose hair from your face and his hand lingers, stroking your cheek before dropping it. "I've been wanting to say that for a while."
Your soft me too, breaks whatever tension is left between you two, and when he kisses you, you completely forget why you were fighting in the first place.
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nhlmcfilthy · 2 years ago
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How boyfriend Brady Skjei wakes you up in the morning on a day off (he’s so boyfriend coded but also you know he’s got moves in bed)
He nuzzles into your back and neck and just slowly starts kissing you until you turn over
With a coffee, cause he’s already been up for a run
He slowly runs his calloused hands up and down your back and kisses you when you shiver
He rips the curtains open cause he’s got a big day off planned. When you hide under the covers he rips them off, scoops you up effortlessly, and drops you in the bathroom. He tells you to be ready in 10 and smacks your ass
He slowly strokes your arm or plays with your hair
He’s gently stroking down your side, each time going lower until he’s grabbing your ass and squeezing and then he’s lightly biting your neck
He’s unconsciously bucking his hips into you, his dick is rock hard. When you turn around he’s still asleep so you just arch into it until he wakes up. The first time this happens, he’s blushing and apologizing and you just grind back into him and you feel his whole body gasp and you both moan he grabs your hips and takes business into his own hands. After you’ve been together a while he knows you like it and you love the anticipation of waiting for him to wake up and take over
He’s fully awake and staring at you like you’re the most beautiful thing (but not like, in a creepy way)
He’s awake and grinding into you. He knows you love to be woken up like this and he’s snaking one arm around your stomach, slowly up to your breasts. He’s whispering in your ear to wake up and telling you all the things he wants to do to you. He’s got a filthy mouth and mind
He doesn’t. He’s passed out in bed and looks both like a grown man and a child at the same time. He’s got a slight smile on his face and his hair is perfectly disheveled and the sun in the morning is making the greys shine. He’s so at peace you don’t want to disturb him but you also need to cover him in kisses
He brings you breakfast in bed. He’s got pancakes and bacon and fruit with a warm coffee just how you like it. He’s got a tray and an extra pillow for you to sit up. He puts your favourite episode of your favourite show on the tv and snuggles in next to you
He sings you a little morning song he’s made up cause you hate mornings so much. His voice is terrible and his breath is awful but he’s also breathing right in your ear and it always ends in a bunch of kisses
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cuteandhughesy · 25 days ago
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WHICH nhl players do you guys want to see me write for in the new year that I haven’t yet written for ?
IF there are other players not in the list that I HAVENT written about who you want to see in the new year, send me a message
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just-dino-maggie · 2 years ago
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prompt #10 with andrei svechnikov?
Thank you so much for the request! I hope you like it!
10. Swimming at night
Working as a trainer with the team is hard. Being so young it took time to build trust but now that I have, things can get draining. A lot of the young guys depend on me. Not only for their physical health but sometimes their mental health. I’m happy to do it, I love my job but sometimes I need a break. Time to relax and focus on what I want.
The hurricanes are on a west coast road trip. It’s the longest one we go on and being away from my bed has sucked. Tonight I’m laying in a hotel bed, it’s too early to fall asleep but I definitely don’t want to go out. Then it clicks, I should go to the pool. It might technically be closed but I don’t mind.
I thank my past self for packing a swimsuit. I throw it on along with a cover up and some sandals. I make my way down the stairs to the outdoor pool. I don’t waist time throwing my things on a pool chair and jumping in the water. It’s perfect.
I swim a few laps for the exercise then I allow myself to float on my back. I look up at the stars. The palm trees frame my vision. It’s so incredibly peaceful.
After a few minutes of floating and looking at the stars I hear the door to the outdoor pool open. I look over and Andrei is putting his towel on the chair next to mine. He’s gorgeous, anyone could see that. He all man. Tall, muscular, and chiseled. I swim toward him and cross my arms over the side of the pool. “Why aren’t you out with the guys?”
“I didn’t feel up to it tonight.” He says easily shrugging his shoulders. His accent is music to my ears. It has lessened since I met him but it’s still strong.
I smirk, “You’re only 23 and you are already tired of going out? How can that be?”
“Y/n, you’re 22 and you’ve never liked going out.” He responds simply, walking toward me and easing himself into the pool.
I blush. It’s kinda sweet that he notices those kinds of things about me. “Touché,” I reply. I turn around so my back is up against the pool wall and I turn to look at Andrei. “Do you do this a lot?” He furrows his eyebrows as if he’s confused by the question. “Swimming in the hotel pools at night.”
“When I have time I try to. It’s nice.” He says looking at me with those dazzling eyes.
I glance back at the stars, “Do you ever have those weirdly particular experiences that you just really want to do?”
“I think I know what you mean.” He contemplates, “tell me yours.”
“I want to spend winter at a lake house, hopefully in Michigan. I want to swim in the ocean at night.” I pause blushing, thinking of something I shouldn’t have.
He pokes my arm, “What’s that look?”
“I want to make out with someone in the rain or in water. Like a lake, pool, ocean. I know it’s dumb but I always thought it was so romantic.”
He nods then goes quiet, I feel like an idiot. The other guys over share with me a lot so sometimes I forget to have a filter. “Maybe we could do some of them together. Swimming in the ocean at night seems fun.”
“Yeah, maybe we could!” I say smiling.
He looks away from me for a second, “I could also help with the other one.”
“You know a lake house in Michigan we could stay at?”
He chuckles and brings himself closer to me. “I was talking about the other one.”
I realize what he’s insinuating and I blush deeply. This would be very unprofessional of me and honestly stupid but I’ve been working on separating myself from work. Doing things that I want to do because I want to do them. And right now the number one thing I want to do is kiss Andrei Svechnikov.
“Are you sure?” I ask, putting my arms around his neck.
He grabs my legs and wraps them around his waist, “Yep.” Then his lips are on mine. He’s not shy, he’s pushing me up against the pool wall and his hands are all over me. I can tell he’s more experienced. I certainly don’t mind I just hope I’m keeping up.
Soon enough his hips are rutting against mine and his groans are undeniable. I pull back to try and slow things down but his lips goes straight to my neck. Now I’m arching into him.
When he pulls back to look at the work he’s done to my neck I can see him smirk. “We should stop.” I say because I know we have to, or I’ll do something I can’t take back.
“Yeah, we probably should. I don’t want to.”
I smile and push his arm, “You’re not helping.”
He laughs but holds my hips, not letting me go just yet. “What if I don’t want this to be a one time thing? I like you.”
I pause for a second thinking about what he just said. I should be professional, he’s a co-worker. But he’s also just a guy that I find attractive, maybe it wouldn’t hurt. “I like you too, maybe we could meet tomorrow for coffee?” I say with butterflies in my stomach.
He presses his lips to mine once again, “perfect.”
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thewintersoldierdisaster · 11 months ago
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the official hockey masterlists! they've been a long time coming, but i wasn't originally planning on writing so much hockey fic lol. it’s been a fun, wild year of fic! i did my best to capture everything i’ve written, but if there’s something that’s not on here let me know and i’ll add it in ☺️
if i’ve written two or more fics, he gets a masterlist, otherwise i’m just going to link to the fic or headcanon or blurb on this post
i hope you guys have as much fun reading these fics as i did writing them! 🤍
andrei svechnikov
mat barzal
brady skjei
martin necas
william nylander
miscellaneous players
tyler seguin
champagne buzz down to my toes* (12.1k) new year’s eve in las vegas gets out of hand when you meet tyler, a gorgeous stranger in the club
cole caufield
four weddings and a funeral (11.4k) it’s the summer of weddings and just as you’re dreading going solo to them, your brother’s best friend, cole caufield, offers to be your date. it’s the perfect solution, too bad you’ve been madly in love with cole for years and your heart can’t seem to grasp the concept of a fake date.
brock boeser
you look like you love me* (2.7k) you’re nothing but the nanny for brock’s daughter until one night all the lines get blurred
matthew tkachuk
giddy up* (1k) you watch matty compete in the saddle bronc competition at the calgary stampede
sean durzi
don’t you want me like i want you baby? (5.5k) lizzie arnold decides to surprise her best friend for christmas, but she could never have imagined how the holiday season would shake out
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smileysvech · 2 years ago
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What are some of your favorite hockey boy fics? 🥰
this is not an exhaustive list by any means, so you can check my fic rec tags here and here, but these are some of my favorites (most of these include smut so please respect authors’ warnings if you’re not 18+)
andrei svechnikov
fake numbers and date numbers by @matsbarzal
glittery by @comphy-and-cozy
the love countdown series by @behoright
meet me at midnight by @senditcolton
the mystery of love by @comphy-and-cozy
playing pretend by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69
sundress season (and the sequel) by @comphy-and-cozy
when it gets crisp in the fall (and these follow up fics in the same universe: x x) by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69
andrei svechnikov/brady skjei
the after party and the after party II by @comphy-and-cozy
andrei svechnikov/dylan coghlan
919 temptations by @hoesforthecanes
brady skjei
adore you by @comphy-and-cozy
do I really have to tell you? by @senditcolton
midnight rain by @comphy-and-cozy
mat barzal
more than a vancouver sunset by @zuucc
praising you by @eberles
we've come so far baby by @mendeshoney
mat barzal/tyson jost
summer nights by @hookingminor
jt compher
our love was made for the movies by @jostystyles
slow mornings by @comphy-and-cozy
something to dream about by @comphy-and-cozy
mikko rantanen
bad for business by @comphy-and-cozy
you’re the reason I come home by @senditcolton
tyson jost
baby, you make me crazy series by @hookingminor
how I look on you by @hookingminor
like this series by @matbaerzal
longshot by @flashyfucker
open your eyes by @matbaerzal
matt martin
matt martin x sugar baby!reader blurb by @comphy-and-cozy
we're a bad idea by @senditcolton
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senditcolton · 1 year ago
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If You Want It Done
summary: after a disappointing playoff loss, brady reappears on your doorstep eight months after he ended things. and he has nothing on his mind but taking out his frustrations by having you desperate and keening for him once again. however, you aren't about to submit without a fight.
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song inspo: NFWB by Hozier & Rats by Motionless in White word count: 5.1k warnings: feminine reader. smut! hair pulling, fingering, unprotected penetration, spanking, slight choking, oral (m receiving), and - as always - a healthy amount of dirty talk. plus somewhat toxic and insanely cocky brady.
a/n: no tricks here. just a sweet treat in the form of long- awaited Brady Skjei smut. technically it's a continuation of this blurb, but i just combined the original and the addition into one fic for you all. enjoy and happy halloween.
Sadness. Humiliation. Shame.
Those should be the emotions running through Brady as the plane lands back in Carolina after Game 4 of the Eastern Conference Finals. Because he wasn’t back ready to fight for another win. He was here to pack his bags and go home.
The best team in the Metro. Swept. By a wild card team who barely made the playoffs.
It was a disaster, an embarrassment. And Brady should feel the heavy weight of that failure, even if he might only be responsible for one-nineteenth of the blame. Or, at least, he should feel the waves of sadness crashing over him about the way it ended, or the mere fact that it did end.
But he didn’t. Perhaps he had earlier, when that final buzzer sounded and the fans in South Florida cheered. But now, having sat with those feelings for the better part of 24 hours, he was no longer sad.
He was angry.
And so, when the wheels touched down in Raleigh and he collected his car, he didn’t drive home.
Instead, he drove to yours.
~
A tired sigh leaves you as you pull up to your quaint cottage-style home. A long work week was cause for an even longer relaxing weekend and you were ready to start that weekend by getting inside and having a long nap. Or a strong drink. Or perhaps both.
However, after hopping out of your car and wandering up the small path that leads to your front door, your plans placed on a momentary hold when you see someone leaning against your siding, their baseball cap pulled low.
“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling,” you call out, ready for this stranger to flash you an award-winning smile and tell you all about how their company could save you money on roofing repairs after last week’s storm.
But when their head lifts, you stop in your tracks as you recognize the face staring back at you.
Hell, you used to wake up to it every morning for eight months. Until he ended things.
“Brady.”
His name falls from your mouth in complete practiced apathy. You didn’t need him to know how much time you spent crying over him in the last month. You especially didn’t need him to know how your heart still skipped a beat when his eyes connected to yours.
“Did you see the game?” he asks.
“I heard.”
“And?”
“And what? Do you want to cry for you?”
There’s a humorless chuckle that comes from Brady as his head falls before he takes a step towards you.
“You always knew how to make me feel better,” he says, the sarcasm lacing his voice. And when you hear it, that dry scathing tone, you realize that you didn’t recognize the man in front of you.
Brady was always soft, gentle, welcoming. It made the dichotomy between you even more obvious; you all sharp edges and harsh words and burning fire. It was part of the reason the two of you broke up.
But this Brady… there was something different. Something dangerous. it intrigued you. But not enough for you to give in.
“I’m not going to coddle you, Brady. You should know that by now.” 
“I don’t want your sympathy.”
“What do you want then?” you ask, finally taking a few steps forward, closing the gap between you and your front door. “You want my pity? You want me to say ‘poor you, poor Brady’?”
It’s your turn to let a scoff fall from your lips as you reach into your bag for your keys, Brady now behind you.
“If you wanted someone to feel sorry for you, you came to the wrong fucking house,” you explain, unlocking the door.
Before you can even reach the handle, you feel Brady step forward, his hands falling on your hips as his body crowds you into the smooth wood. You attempt to take a deep breath to calm your heart but it doesn’t help because when you breathe in, your senses are filled with the smell of his cologne. A smell so familiar. One you missed.
Brady moves closer, his body almost pinning you to the door and you can’t stop your knees from trembling as you feel the heat of him behind you.
“I came here because I missed you,” he whispers into your ear.
“And it took you getting your ass kicked to realize that?” you shoot back. Although, the waver in your voice betrays you, revealing how much your body was responding to him; his touch, his words, his warmth. Brady just lets his previous sentence continue, as if he didn’t even hear you.
“And because I know you missed me just as much.”
You couldn’t let him do this – let him come crawling back to you when he was broken or bored. You no longer belonged to him. It was a recipe for disaster.
“I think you’ve forgotten that I’m not one of those girls that would fall on their knees for you.”
“You seemed to enjoy being on your knees for me when we were together.”
“And we’re not together anymore. So, find someone else to fuck your frustrations out on.”
“Is that what you did?”
“None of your business.”
You feel his grip on your hips tighten and you barely have time to react as he effortlessly spins your body until your back is pressed against the wood of the door, your eyes now looking up at him.
“You’re lying.”
Brady almost spits out the words, as if even the barest suggestion that what you said was true was poison to him. Your eyes follow the movement in his temple, the clenching of his jaw, the storm in his eyes. This wasn’t the side of Brady that you knew.
But it was a side that you were always curious to discover. Throughout those eight months, you wanted to know if Brady had that same fire hiding within him – a passion and intensity that could match yours. And now, you could finally see it peeking through.
You wanted it to come out completely. 
“And you can tell?” you ask, wielding your words with edge and precision. “Does that make you feel worse? If I told you about all the other men that ended up in my bed?”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I wouldn’t? Are you sure? You knew what you giving up when you left. Can’t blame me for moving on.”
“You wouldn’t,” Brady repeats, one hand falling away and you barely have time to comprehend where it had gone when you feel the steady weight of the door fall away from you.
Your body lurches back, the momentum pulling you until it is abruptly stopped by Brady’s strong arms, pulling you close and lifting you over the threshold. Your feet find the hardwood of your floors before Brady is spinning you again and you find yourself pressed against the door once more, this time inside your house instead of without.
“You wouldn’t,” he reiterates, “because no one could make you feel as good as I did.”
You hear the deadbolt click, the sound causing the heat pool in your stomach. Brady’s hand moves back to your hip, pulling you close again as he leans in until your lips are barely touching. It’s intoxicating, having him this close to you once again. You are about to surge forward, connect your lips to his, let your fire burn with his. Until Brady speaks again.
“No one could make you feel as good as I’m about to.”
That statement pulls all rationality from you and you don’t hesitate to close the gap between you, crashing your lips onto his. Brady returns the kiss with as much intensity, his hands gripping you tighter while yours move to trace over his arms, his broad shoulders before tangling into that salt-and-pepper hair. The kiss is frantic, all teeth and tongues and it takes a moment before Brady finally pulls away, connecting those brown eyes to your own
“You’re mine,” he whispers. “You always will be.”
The words cut right through you; as a threat or a promise, you weren’t really sure. But the instant that Brady crashes his lips back into yours, you find that you don’t care.
God, you missed this. You would be lying if you didn’t spend many restless nights reminiscing on how his hands felt on your body. How his lips felt on your skin.
But you wouldn’t tell him that. The words would never leave your mouth, not while Brady is standing in front of you. You wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. At least, not yet.
Instead, you get lost in Brady’s kisses, your hands coming to tangle deeper in his hair, pulling him closer to you as your hips roll up to meet his. You think you can hear a dark chuckle rumble from Brady and vibrate directly into your body, sending sparks of electricity flowing through you. His hands roam across your body, up from your hips to the soft material of your blouse before landing on your breasts, giving them a squeeze, causing your head to fall back.
“Missed these perfect tits,” he mumbles, his movements against your chest continuing in response to the soft moan falling from your mouth. Your moan turns into a sharp gasp as Brady grips the center of your shirt and tears it open. The sound of the buttons scattering across the hardwood floor floods your ears and it inexplicably turns you on even more.
If this was any other man, you would be pissed off at him for ruining your one of your favorite shirts. But this was Brady. A new Brady.
In those eight months you were with him, he was nothing but a gentleman, both outside and inside the bedroom. And he was more than satisfactory. But you knew there had to be something underneath all that charm. An untamed animal just waiting to be unchained.
And if this was the key to its cage, you weren’t about to stop everything to cry over a few buttons. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to complain at all.
“You’re buying me a new shirt,” you mutter against Brady’s lips. Brady swiftly removes his mouth from yours as he looks down at your newly exposed bra.
“Gonna buy you something new to wear under it,” comes his response as his thumbs trace over the edge of the plain nude material and this time, you can stop your eyes from rolling in annoyance.  
“Do you really think I wear lingerie to work?” you quip, staring up at him.
You can see his eyes harden and it is in that moment that you realize he was enjoying this. The chase, the tease, the dare, the push and pull between the two of you.
“If you don’t like it,” you continue, your voice taking on a sultry tone as you continue to meet his dark brown eyes, “then take it off.”
The quick sparkle that appears in his brown eyes makes you think that he has taken the bait, that you might have gained some control over the situation at hand – a situation that you were wholly unprepared for but welcomed none the less. And when Brady leans back in to lock you lips together once again, his hands wandering around your ribcage towards your back, the confidence grows.
However, it takes a sharp plummet when you feel his hands drop from your frame. If Brady had given you a split second longer, you would have broken the kiss to question or quip him again. But you have barely any time to miss the sensation of his hands on your skin before you feel them grip the back of your thighs as Brady uses his athletic strength to effortlessly lift you off the floor.
You gasp, a gasp that Brady gladly swallows before he spins, tearing his lips away from yours to look around your house. There is a part of you that wants to tell him nothing has changed from the last time he was there – the furniture is the same, your bedroom is still two doors down on the left – but your lips have already busied themselves marking the smooth skin on his neck.
There was also a power in your decisions; forcing him to find his way through your space all while doing your best to distract him. And it seems to be working as you feel Brady’s pulse shudder underneath your mouth.
You feel him take a lurching turn right and a slight flash of confusion runs through you until you feel his body lowering. The soft material of your couch hits your knees and the skirt you had on flows out around you as you now straddle Brady.
“Forgot where the bedroom was?” you chirp into his neck, feeling his desperate hands return to your torso as he removes the tattered remains of your blouse from your waistband.
It seems that it takes a minute for your words to register but when they do, Brady’s hand lifts to tangle in your hair. Another gasp escapes from your chest as his fingers tighten before pulling your head away from his neck. He quickly reverses the roles, his own lips moving to your newly exposed throat, your breath transforming from gasps to soft sighs as his mouth works against your skin.
“Who says I’m not going to take you there after I’m done here?”
“Who says I would let you back into my bed anyway?” you retort to keep some semblance of control.
Your pathetic attempt is clearly read by Brady, who makes you falter once again as the hand not tangled in your hair effortlessly unclasps your bra. His lips depart from your neck as he helps slide the material down your arms, throwing it carelessly somewhere in the room. You both hate and love the smirk that appears on his face as he takes in your heaving chest, your pebbled nipples. His dark eyes dart back up to you briefly before he is tugging you into him for another animalistic kiss.
“Seems that you like it so far,” he whispers into your open mouth before he pulls away again, lifting your body upright and pulling you closer. “I’ll take my chances.”
You wish that you could say something back, something to knock his arrogant confidence down a peg but your mind goes blank as his lips move to your collarbone, leaving faint hickeys against the taut skin before moving down to your chest. His lips close around one of your nipples, tongue moving to tease the sensitive peak as his hands rest on your ribcage, his thumbs running across the delicate skin on the underside of your breasts. Your hands fly to the back of his head, keeping him close and you can feel his lips curl against your skin. The action both turns you on and pisses you off, a combination that you weren’t sure could even work until now.
You fly into action, hands moving down to grip the fabric stretched across his broad shoulders, tugging at the material and pulling it upward before he finally breaks away to help you remove the shirt entirely, tossing it away to join your clothes on the living room floor.
His lips return to your chest, moving to leave no skin unmarred with his love bites as your hands drop to his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle in silent encouragement. Brady’s hands lower before coming to grip your ass and you gasp as he pulls you forward, the action causing your hips to roll. You both let out moans at the sensation of you grinding against him and it turns you on more to feel his erection against your core.
“And here I thought I was the masochist,” you joke, moving your hips of your own volition, pressing deeper into him. The grunt that your actions pull from his chest has you grinning. “Who’d know you get this hard from getting your ass kicked?”
You must’ve struck a nerve, prodded at the memory he came here to forget, because the only thing you hear in response is what could best be described as a growl before he lifts you off of his lap enough to slip out from underneath you. Your brain recognizes the weight of his body disappearing from the couch and you attempt to turn, just to keep your eyes locked on him but Brady doesn’t give you a chance.
His large hand finds the space between your shoulder blades and pushes you forward, your torso falling until your chest meets the back cushions. You can’t stop the gasp that falls, your arms lifting over the edge of the couch as your back arches, your hips pressing back towards Brady now looming behind you.
A dark chuckle echoes throughout the room in response to your actions as he pulls the material of your skirt over your hips, exposing more of your body to him. He doesn’t waste any time, doesn’t even bother removing your underwear, instead choosing to move it to the side before he slips two fingers into your already soaked core.  
You let out a moan, your head falling forward as Brady’s hand moves, winding you up and my God, you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the feeling. His thumb quickly finds your clit, pressing against the bundle of nerves and you can’t stop the way your body responds to his movements.
“That’s what I thought,” he laughs. “You have no right to that attitude when you’re this fucking desperate for me.”
He emphasizes his words with a curl of his fingers, the tips grazing your g-spot and the combined sensation of his hands skillfully moving against you almost has you falling over the edge. Brady doesn’t give you your satisfaction that easily though as he removes his fingers from your core. You whimper at the loss, listening intently to Brady’s movements behind you, impatient to feel him once more.
Brady doesn’t leave you wanting for long as you hear the rustle of his pants hitting the floor and before you can blink, you feel his hands practically tear your panties down your legs before he enters you in one swift, harsh motion.
The moans that you both let out are delicious and desperate. You whine as you move your hips back, pushing him impossibly deeper. Brady groans, his hands quickly finding purchase on your hips, gripping you tight before he begins to move.
“Oh god,” you moan out as Brady fucks into you with quick hard thrusts, showing no mercy, your ass rippling every time it meets his hips. You are grateful for the couch cushions in front of you, helping to support your upper body as your fingers dig into the fabric so deeply that an irrational part of you worries you might tear it.
“Not God, sweetheart. Just me,” Brady replies, his movements barely faltering. “Come on, say my name.”
You wish you could tell him to fuck off, make a quip about his cocky attitude but your mouth doesn’t seem able to form the words or any words for that matter. The only thing you want is for him to continue. A sharp smack against your ass jolts your body forward and your head whips around in surprise, eyes connecting to Brady.
“Say. My. Name,” he repeats, now more command than anything else, every word punctuated by another spank and you are helpless to comply.
“Brady,” you whine, your desperation painted on every letter, your eyes staying locked on him, drinking in his reaction. He groans, his teeth coming to bite his lower lip, his gaze dropping from your face to connect to where his cock disappears into your pussy.
“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart.”  
His quiet encouragement is all you need to continue moaning his name over and over. One of his hands falls from your hips to join yours in gripping the back of the couch, his body now completely covering yours, the new leverage only increasing the strength in which Brady thrusts into you. Your head falls to rest against the back cushion, the sounds of your staccato whimpers and breathy curses filling the living room along with the continuous depraved slapping of skin against skin.
You whine as you feel his hand disappear from your hip and slowly trace up your body, the softness of his touch a sharp contrast. The gentleness doesn’t last long and your whine turns into a gasp as Brady’s large hand wraps around your throat, pulling your head upwards.
“Keep saying my name,” he says, his hot breath fanning across the shell of your ear. “Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.”
“You are, Brady.”
“Yeah? Can anyone else fuck you like I can?”
“No. Only you.”
“That’s right. Only me,” he growls in satisfaction, emphasizing his words with his rhythm.
“Fuck, Brady, please,” you plead, your voice strained from how much focus it took to pry the words from your mouth. “I’m close.”
“Well then, come on sweetheart. Touch yourself. Remind me how good it feels when you cum on my cock.”
The speed in which your hand falls is reckless, frantic to get that additional pressure that you were craving. As soon as your fingers press against your clit, your head falls back against Brady’s shoulder in relief. His praise is muffled against your skin as he peppers your shoulder with kisses, only interrupted by quiet curses as he feels your core flutter.
It is hot, so unbelievably hot – how he’s fucking you, how he’s holding you – that it doesn’t take long for you to finally fall over the precipice, your own hand faltering against you as your orgasm rocks through your body. A groan falls from Brady as he feels you clench around him; a groan that he muffles by sinking his teeth into the flesh of your shoulder, the additional sensation causing you to moan louder, hips rocking back against him as his motions halt.
The haze that pricked at the corner of your eyes slowly dissipates and you can feel Brady’s hand fall from your neck. The cool air cascades over your back as Brady lifts himself away from you causing goosebumps to appear. A small whimper escapes when you feel him remove himself from your core and steps away. The submissive part of your mind, still in control, panics in fear that he might leave. But the concern is short lived as Brady sits down next to you, pulling you back into his lap.
He wastes no time capturing you in another kiss, stealing any remaining breath from your lungs. Brady attempts to break the kiss but you don’t let him, hands lifting to cup his jaw and pulling him deeper into the kiss. He doesn’t resist and allows you to continue to kiss him, his own arms wrapping around your body.
Eventually your hands move, trailing down his throat, dancing over his chest and you smile against his lips as you feel his abs tighten in response to your fingers sinking lower until they finally reach the desired destination.
You gently take his still hard length in your hand and stroke him a few times, which was easy to do with your prior release clinging to the silky-smooth skin. You grin as you feel the vibrations of Brady’s soft moan in response to your ministrations. The cloud of your orgasm had lifted and, in its absence, your own confidence returned.
“Want me to take care of that for you?” you question, only moving far enough away to ask, your lips brushing against his occasionally. Brady doesn’t respond; you knew he wouldn’t. He had worked too hard to give up the dominance he held over you so easily. But you weren’t deterred.
You kiss him deeply one more time before your lips follow the path your hands previously traced: down his throat, over his collarbones, across his chest. An occasional moan and curse fall from Brady as you continue your descent and you grin, knowing that his resolve was slowly cracking. Your body moves, shuffling from being perched on top of his lap to kneel on the plush carpet between his thighs. Brady’s eyes are needy when your own eyes dart up to meet his stare. Your hand strokes him again but you make no attempt to put your mouth on him, the dare hanging clearly in the air.
“Baby, please,” Brady finally speaks, his hips punching upwards.
“Who’s fucking desperate now?” you quip, unable to contain your excitement at regaining the upper hand. Your jaw drops open in surprise as Brady’s hand darts out, grabbing your neck once more, his eyes growing dark.
“You want to repeat that sweetheart?” he asks, that dominant energy rolling off him again. Except this time, it doesn’t make you back down. Instead, it just spurs you on, that heat and elation as it returns – the battle, the chase. Your dropped jaw just morphs into a wicked grin and you are ecstatic to see a similar smirk twist onto Brady’s lips; a quiet confirmation that he was still enjoying the newfound push and pull between you two.
“Come on Brady. Admit it. You are just as desperate for me as I am for you,” you explain, your voice dipping again into your lower sultry timbre. “Tell me, do any of those other girls have a mouth like mine?”
You flatten your tongue against his shaft and lick a bold stripe up his length before moving your lips to leave a lingering teasing kiss on the head. Brady groans, his head falling back as his hand moves from your neck to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer in an attempt for you to fully wrap your lips around him.
“No one can fuck me like you can?” you continue, hand wrapping around his cock. “Well, you’ll never find someone who can give better head than I can.”
You don’t give him any chance to respond as you surge forward, finally taking him into your wet mouth. Your tongue traces every vein that you could feel as your hand moves against the rest of him. Brady’s moans sounding from above fuel you and you continue to work your sinful magic against his skin.
It may have been months since you two were in this particular position but you feel like a part of you will remember everything about Brady, including all the spots that make him groan and twitch and throb. Your lips move to suck on the tip, teasing the area where the head meets the shaft with your tongue.
“Fuck,” Brady curses, his hips jumping causing his cock to thrust into your mouth. You gag a little before withdrawing – not completely but only enough to catch your breath. Your eyes dart to his and find that he is already staring at you, his salt-and-pepper hair falling over his forehead. The moan you release at the sight vibrates around Brady causing an identical moan to escape him. You inhale deeply before lowering your head, relaxing your throat until the entirety of his cock is nestled in your mouth.
“Goddamn, you’re so fucking good at that,” he groans, his fingers twisting in your hair. You move, shallowly bobbing your head as you feel him pulse against your tongue, a tell-tale sign he was getting close. The assumption was only confirmed by the next word Brady spoke. “Fuck, baby, gonna cum.”
You pull your mouth from him, replacing it quickly with your hand and continuing the pace you had set.
“I won’t waste a drop,” you say, keeping your eyes locked to his as you wrap your lips around him once again, your hands moving to the side his thighs and pressing your fingertips up into them. Brady understands your silent request, hand once again tightening in your hair as he moves his hips upward, taking control.
“Yeah? You going to swallow it all like a good girl?”
You nod your head, keeping your mouth open and accepting everything he gives, moaning against his skin as he increases his pace. It’s only a few more moments before Brady throws his head back against the couch cushions, a long groan emulating from his chest as his own orgasm hits. You feel his cum hit the back of your throat and you greedily pull him deeper, determined to keep your word.
You let Brady collect himself and take a few deep breaths before you slowly raise your head, sliding off of his cock. You wait until his eyes connect to yours before you swallow, releasing a satisfied exhale afterwards. You can’t help but make a show of it, licking your lips before opening your mouth to show him that you indeed didn’t let anything go to waste.
Brady grins, a smile which you quickly mirror before his hands are on your body, hauling you off the floor and back into his lap. Your lips connect and you sigh, savoring the euphoric glow that surrounded the two of you. The two of you continue to make out for a few minutes, relaxing before you pull away, looking down at Brady.
“D’you feel better?” you joke, the remembrance of why he came to your house in the first place – and what it all meant now – nagging in the back of your mind. You aren’t sure if you can see sadness lingering on the corners of Brady’s smile as his hand runs soothing circles across your spine.
“A little.”
“Need anything else?”
“Maybe a shower,” he replies, looking up at you with those brown eyes that always made you weak. A sparkle that spells nothing but trouble for you flashes in his irises as his smile turns into a wicked smirk. “And perhaps a round two, starting with my head buried between your thighs.”
“Demanding, aren’t you?” you breathlessly chuckle, your head shaking in playful disbelief as your tear your gaze from his.
“I just know what I want.”
“Which is?”
“You.”
His quiet declaration has your head turning back to him, connecting your eyes once again. The emotions displayed in his own stare are unfathomable and you know that this isn’t the place to attempt to decipher them. You don’t have time to unwind and unravel the mess that defined you and Brady’s connection: your prior relationship, the subsequent break-up, and everything that happened today.
So, instead, you gently climb from Brady’s lap, standing upright before stretching out your hand towards him. He accepts your offer and you help lift him off the sofa before dragging him down the hallway to the second door on the left, back into your bed.
Like he always belonged there.
Like he never left.
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tagging the skjei-sy sluts (affectionate) who asked for a continuation + a few others I think would appreciate this: @smileysvech @pyotrkochetkov @cellythefloshie @comphy-and-cozy @laurenairay
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leafsbabe · 2 years ago
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𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡
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𝐡𝐢 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐬, as you might have guessed from the title i hit a pretty big follower milestone at the beginning of the month and thought we could have some fun with it! i still can’t believe there are four fucking thousand of you following this silly little blog, i love you all so much! send me a player and a number and get something nice xoxo
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𝟏𝟏𝟏 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - send me a player and a song (or just a player and i’ll pick a song i think fits them) and i’ll write you a little something for them
𝟐𝟐𝟐 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 - send me a player and a prompt and i’ll make you a little insta au
𝟑𝟑𝟑 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 - send me fic recs, blogs to check out, just things that need a little love
𝟒𝟒𝟒 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - send me a player and i’ll write you a boyfriend headcanon for him
𝟓𝟓𝟓 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 - send me a player and i’ll write you a dad headcanon for him
𝟔𝟔𝟔 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭 - send me any ask game, fuck - marry - kill, who’d you rather, players and a prompt for me to rate...
𝟕𝟕𝟕 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤 - send me a player and get a smutty headcanon, be it a sex headcanon, nsfw alphabet, maybe even a breeding kink... you can request a specific one or just let me pick
𝟖𝟖𝟖 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 - send me a player and i’ll make you an aesthetic/moodboard for him
𝟗𝟗𝟗  𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 - send me a player and a prompt and i’ll write you a little blurb, can be fluffy or smutty, whatever your little heart desires
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blurbs will probably be around 500 words & things will get posted towards the end of the month and early april , requests are closed ♡
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♡ Kirill Kaprizov - nsfw alphabet
♡ Quinn Hughes - breeding kink headcanon
♡ Elias Pettersson - insta au
♡ Jeremy Swayman - nsfw alphabet
♡ Colton Parayko - moodboard
♡ Colton Parayko - insta au
♡ William Nylander & Auston Matthews - insta au
♡ Owen Power - nsfw alphabet
♡ Luke Hughes - nsfw alphabet
♡ Leon Draisaitl - boyfriend headcanon
♡ Vince Dunn - blurb
♡ Luca Fantilli - sex headcanon
♡ Jordan Kyrou - breeding kink headcanon
♡ Lucas Raymond - boyfriend headcanon
♡ Nathan MacKinnon - song blurb
♡ Alex Turcotte - nsfw alphabet
♡ Andrei Svechnikov - song blurb
♡ Morgan Rielly - breeding kink headcanon 
♡ Mat Barzal - blurb
♡ Brady Skjei - boyfriend headcanon
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behoright · 2 years ago
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Sooo I saw the burns and skjei gifs posted by @lysdeglace and @gabelandeskog and I can’t take them out of my mind, who allowed them to be so pretty?
And how I’m down on my knees for all your storys and blurbs, I wanted to know if you have any thoughts on a scenario with brent and brady?
(I know that those two can sound a little weird together, but they’re my favorites and I just couldn’t resist, thank you and I’m wishing only the best 💫)
So the next part to electricity is actually going to be brady and brent! how did you know, you sneaky human? ;) keep your eyes peeled for that coming up! muah.
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ladylooch · 2 years ago
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How about soft thoughts Sunday?
I'm sad today and need comfort. Send me lil blurb thoughts for these players:
Nico Hischier
Miles Wood
Adrian Kempe
Timo Meier
Kevin Fiala
Brady Skjei
or the AUs:
Lio & Lucie
Loving & Leaving
What My World Spins Around
Letters in Your Last Name ( if you read it already :p)
Yes I'm still working on your requests 😘 Don't get mad at me!
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midnightsnyx · 2 years ago
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BLURBS/DRABBLES
jealousy, jealousy / matthew tkachuk
bad day / matthew tkachuk
girl dad / trent frederic
lake days / brock boeser
love song / nathan mackinnon
playing games / jack hughes
proposals / matthew tkachuk
confessions / brady skjei
nice thoughts / luke hughes
oh baby / quinn hughes
sweet as sugar / leon draisaitl
something warm / quinn hughes
drunk dialed / part 1, part 2 / matthew tkachuk
this one was for you / carter verhaeghe
beautiful girl / matthew tkachuk
bed head / leon draisaitl
broken frame / nico hischier
lazy sundays / nico hischier
hush / nico hischier
museum meet cute / nico hischier
aquarium dates / matthew tkachuk
beautiful smile / arber xhekaj
drunken confessions / arber xhekaj
sleepy mornings / nate mackinnon
confessions / phillipp grubauer
snuggle bug / nico hischier
realizations / nico hischier
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hattywatch · 2 years ago
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J. Vesey - July For the Whole Year Ch. 1
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A/n: Hello all! It's been a while, but I'm still lurking about. I heard that Jimmy was back on the table for the Rangers a few months ago and started this, with endgame in mind that he'd be back and NOW HE IS. I decided to do chapters so it's easier to consume. We're clocking about 35 pages currently. It's about 90% completed, so the subsequent chapters should be up fairly quickly. This is 100% self-serving. I wanted a disgustingly long will-they-won't-they, friends to lovers, so I had to do it my damned self. Stop by, say hi, stay awhile; I read all comments, tags, messages etc- so don't be shyyyy!) Please check out my Masterlist (I finally made one!) if you want some more content :)
_______________________________
August 2017
“PIVOT!” a decidedly male voice shouts from down the hall. You almost laugh, but it’s 8am on a Saturday and you don’t really want to commit to being fully awake quite yet. 
“Dude, that was not funny 2 floors down, and it’s even less funny now-” still male, but another voice answers back. 
It seems like Stella, the building manager, has finally found someone to let the large three-bedroom at the end of the hall. It’s been vacant for the whole summer, which was nice. The floor only has 2 other 1 bedroom apartments, so it’s been you and Mr.Callahan for the better part of 3 months. He’s a septuagenarian and hardly makes any noise, so it's been akin to having the entire 4th floor to yourself and it's been too short-lived for your taste. To say you were delighted when the last tenants moved out is an understatement. You haven’t had to vie for the elevator, wake up to any loud music, or have a sneezing fit- which aroused your suspicion of a contraband feline residing nearby. You’re sad to have it come to an end, but maybe they’ll quiet down once they move in. 
Rolling over, you wedge your face in between your pillows, successfully blocking the sound and falling back into a gentle doze. 
______
Two weeks later, you’re sitting on the rooftop deck, lounging like a dog in the sun, sipping an iced-coffee from the cafe down the street and reading a magazine when the rooftop door opens to a boisterous duo, mid-conversation. 
“Brady will do it again this year. You watch. No way he retires, he’s got too much left in him. Guy’s an animal-” they’re both tall, but the sandy haired one is loud, clearly from Boston- his R’s dropping at the end of his words, making “Year,” sound wrong to your ears, attuned for New York City. 
“I’m not doubting him, man. He’s just getting up there,” they sit at the table next to you, clad in swim-suits, clearly about to use the pool- the paint is chipped and worn, but the water is crystal blue and chlorinated enough that even the unwashed masses of the city can’t sully it. The small pool is your favorite perk of the aged building.
Hiding your eyes behind your sunglasses, you size them up. They're young, likely in their twenties and they're both fit as hell, thick and muscled. Not a bad sight, but you'd hate to leer, so you go back to your magazine, only half paying attention to the chatter next to you as it moves from sport to sport before they finally walk towards the water.
It's cold, you know it's freezing, which is why you’ve chosen to tan and not float around in the water. One of the kids in the building had an accident in it last weekend; it had to be drained and cleaned and it hasn't had the time to warm up yet. It seemed almost silly to refill it now, since there's barely two weeks left of summer, but who are you to complain?
“Jesus Christ!” You can’t really hold back the laughter even though you try, so a choked snort makes its way out despite your best efforts. The sandy haired one is only in the water up to his knees and the darker haired one hasn’t even started his descent down the pool steps yet, and you don’t want to be the creep eavesdropping and gawking, so you pull your magazine up a little higher over your face to hide. 
“You could have warned us! It’s fuckin’ ice cold,” he retreats up the steps and sits back in his chair on the deck. “I’m Kevin, I just moved here. This is Brady.” Kevin sticks his hand out to shake, and you drop Cosmopolitan onto the wire table in front of you to meet his grip. 
His handshake is strong and warm. “Here, New York, or here, this building?” you ask after giving him your name. Brady leans in after Kevin, hand outstretched, so you shake his too. 
“This building. I’ve been in New York a couple-a years now. But we just moved to this building a few weeks ago. We’re down on 4; us and our buddy Jimmy.” You nod and tell him you’re on 4 too, but then his phone rings and it’s Jimmy and he has pizza. They invite you down to eat, but you decline, wanting to soak up as much summer as possible before the weather turns biting and fall’s crisp air rolls into the city. 
“Nice to meet you! We’ll see you around. Don’t be a stranger!” They wave jovially as they continue through the rooftop door. They seem nice enough. Saving your magazine from the condensation sweating down your coffee cup, you pick up where you left off - “How to Find a Normal Dude on a Dating App,” and wonder how they can possibly pass the same garbage off as something new each month.
______
It’s 2 o’ clock in the morning, according to the glance you give at your way-too-bright phone, and you hear the scraping of a key in your lock. It’s scary because your building is generally safe, and you can count on one hand the number of people who have a copy of your key- Stella the building manager, your elderly neighbor Mr. Callahan, and one ex who you ended it with over 6 months ago. The latter is the only one that makes sense since you know Stella leaves by 8pm each evening and Mr. Callahan is in bed shortly after his early-bird dinner at 4pm. 
If it is someone with malicious intent, they’re certainly not trying to sneak in, they’re cursing loudly and wrenching the knob that refuses to turn. The console table next to your front door houses your keyring, equipped with a small can of mace, so you grab it before checking the peephole. 
“Kevin are you fucking kidding me?” You unlock the door and yank it open to Kevin’s sleepy face on the other side. His eyes are droopy and his smile is lopsided. 
“Heyyyy, what are you doing at our house?!” You’ve seen Kevin around often since meeting him and Brady at the pool a few weeks ago. He’s always coming to or from the gym, or grabbing take-out, or the bar- which is probably the case right now. Kevin is good people, so you can’t find yourself getting too mad at the disturbance. 
Pocketing your keys in your robe, you join him in the hallway. “This isn’t your house, you dweeb. It’s mine,” he looks slightly confused before spinning around in the hall at his surroundings. 
“I see the problem now,” you’re not sure that he actually sees much of anything, since he looks a little worse for the wear right now, but he looks down to the floor before smiling back up at you, “your doormat should have tipped me off… we definitely never bought a doormat.”
He’s wobbly at best, so you grab him by the elbow and steer him towards his door. “Your boys home? Who’s going to tuck you in, bud? Make sure you have some water and get to bed okay?” Kevin is having a hard time with his keys, so you take the tangled ring and try a few before giving up and knocking loudly. 
“Hey!! I have something that belongs to you!” Kevin giggles and rests his forehead against the wall next to the door. 
The locks on the other side make a metallic jerking noise before the door is yanked open. You assume it’s the elusive 3rd roommate, Jimmy, since it’s certainly not Brady. Kevin has mentioned him in passing, but your paths haven’t crossed yet in the few weeks since they’ve moved in. 
He sighs and steps out into the hallway to get a look at Kevin. “You’re kidding me. How did you even make it home?”
“He didn’t,” you interject, “well… he made it to the building and then he tried to get into my apartment. Damn near maced him. He scared the crap out of me.” Jimmy seems to notice you for the first time. 
He looks a little sheepish when he responds, “I’m so sorry, he’s harmless really. Just drank a bit too much, I’m sorry he woke you up. We’re still pretty new to the building, he must have been confused.”
You smile, “It’s okay. I live down the hall and we met a few weeks ago. Good for him actually… it’s bear mace, so...” Kevin is still leaning heavy against the wall when you look over at him. 
“Oh, yeah- Brady mentioned you, I think. (y/n)?” Jimmy leans against the door jamb, arms crossed, and smiles- warm, like it’s not an inconvenience for you to be knocking on his door dragging an inebriated friend home to be taken care of. 
“That’s me…” you pause, not really wanting to get into a conversation at this time of night, the siren song of your soft bed and warm covers calling you back, “Do you think you can give him some water? Maybe some aspirin and make sure he gets to bed?”
Jimmy nods slowly as you talk, before the words seem to land and he nods more vigorously. “Oh, yeah of course… I am sorry, though- again. Thanks for getting him home, I got him from here,” he pulls Kevin over the threshold of the apartment, but doesn’t follow him down the hallway yet. 
“I’m Jimmy, by the way- nice to meet you and thanks again for not pepper spraying Kev.” You step one foot backwards, still looking in Jimmy’s direction. 
“Anytime, Jim. Make sure he survives the night.”
Jimmy smiles and salutes, “You got it. See you around, (y/n)” with one last wave, he closes the door and you finally head back to bed, knocking out as soon as you hit the pillow. 
______
Sunday morning you sleep in until 10, you feel like you’ve earned it after your night was interrupted however, Sundays are also for cleaning, so while your coffee is brewing, you pick a playlist on your phone and turn it on, loud enough that you can hear it throughout your apartment, but low enough to not bother Mr.Callahan through the thin walls. 
You’re halfway through cleaning out your fridge, dumping expired items into the garbage pail and making a grocery list for things to replenish, when there’s a sharp knock on your door. It’s not like you’re expecting company, so you glance at the mirror in the bathroom to make sure you’re decent before checking the peephole and opening the door to Jimmy. 
“Good morning,” you’re cheery, invigorated by the 2 cups of coffee you’ve downed so far and the adrenaline from being productive pumping through your veins.  
He has a brown paper bag in his hand, and he smiles, a small blush high on his cheekbones, and you can tell he’s much more reserved than Kevin, who is gregarious, loud, and boisterous each and every time you’ve bumped him since the very first day you met. 
“Uh, hey. Good morning. Hope I’m not bothering you-” he pauses and looks for permission to continue. You didn’t notice last night, half asleep and bleary, but he has the same accent as Kevin and you peg him as a Bostonian as well. 
Shaking your head you assure him, “Not at all. It’s daytime, that’s typically when visitors are expected. Let Kevin know, I don’t think he’s heard.” You smile and he huffs out a small chuckle.
He hands the paper bag over to you. “Just wanted to thank you again for being so cool about last night. Kev had a rough week and he felt like shit this morning when he realized what happened. He’s still sleeping it off, but just a little peace offering.”
The bag has the logo of the cafe down the street, where you frequently grab coffees and breakfast when you’re running late for work. “I just grabbed some bagels and a bacon, egg, and cheese. Heard that’s the way to a New Yorker’s heart…” he stops awkwardly as you unroll the top of the bag, and peer inside, “You’re not a vegan or anything are you… I didn’t even think about that. Hope it’s oka-”
“It’s great, Jimmy. Did you want to come in? There’s a ton of food here and I just made a fresh pot of coffee.” You step to the side and hold the door open, giving him a clear path into the house. 
He smiles again, it lifts up higher on one side of his mouth. “One cup can’t hurt I guess,” he steps in past you, nose leading him to the coffee pot on the counter. 
______
Jimmy stays for a few hours, he’s easy to talk to, quieter than Kevin, but you can immediately tell he’s got a sharp wit and it comes out the longer he sits in your kitchen, hat backwards and refilling his cup whenever it gets low. You start off talking about Kevin over your bagels and coffee, before devolving into how they know each other (distant cousins who grew up in Boston- you were right about the accent), and then he’s happy to talk about back home, opening up a little and telling you all the best spots in town, “I’m a local, so you know they’re good. You can’t go off google, that’s not authentic,” and defending ‘Dunks’ against all other coffee in the known world. 
“An extra extra? What the hell is that?” You’re topping off his coffee, grabbing the sugar canister off the counter and putting it on the table in front of him. 
“Extra cream, extra sugar. Why, what do you call it here?” 
“Fucking disgusting?” You laugh at your own joke, adding milk to your coffee, “Light and sweet I guess? Tell me something else in Boston.” His posture is relaxed as he leans back in his chair and starts talking about the Harvard Library, of all things. 
You’re happy with how Jimmy opens up sitting in your kitchen on a Sunday morning- chore list forgotten with both of your dishes sitting in the sink. You haven’t felt self conscious for one second even though you’re in your pajamas, hair in a sloppy bun on your head as you compare childhoods in the largest cities on the eastern seaboard. 
The conversation has turned to Game of Thrones, and he’s putting up a pretty good argument for you to start binging it, “I swear it’s like a movie every week. The production value is incredible,” when there’s a knock on your door. 
“More people have knocked on this damned door in the last 12 hours than have in the last 3 years. Sorry Jim, one sec- let me see who that is.” It’s equal parts surprising and unsurprising when you see Kevin on the other side of the peephole. The easy choice is to let him in, turn back around, and walk him to the kitchen as he stammers out his apologies, trailing behind you. 
“Jimmy apologizes better. He brought food,” You take your seat across from Jimmy at your small kitchen table again, as Kevin looks visibly shocked to see Jimmy there, one eyebrow making its way up in question. Jimmy immediately turns bright red when he meets Kevin’s eye. 
He makes himself at home, leaning against your counter and opening up the paper bag before selecting a bagel. “Butter in the fridge?” you nod and he helps himself. “I was wondering where you went, bro. I’ve been up for hours and you haven’t answered one text. I was about to head to the gym to look for you.”
Picking his phone up, Jimmy grits his teeth, “Ah, sorry. Time got away from me. I was supposed to be training, but I stopped by to apologize- for your dumb ass by the way- and we got to talking, I didn’t check my phone.”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” Kevin tells him it’s no big around the bitten off hunk of bagel wedged in his cheek. “You got plans today, (y/n)?” He chews heartily before you shake your head no, and Kevin lists off about five things that he wants to do, clearly no longer plagued by a hangover. Jimmy meets your eye and you shrug. 
“Sure, let me get ready.” You haven’t had a friend in the building before, but it feels a lot like you just made a few.
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