#nykki

[simijeans]

my fav YouTube girlies 𖹭

[pyotrkochetkov]

via nykkimusic on tiktok (9.23.24)

[smileysvech]

“He finally found his soulmate.”

via nykkimusic’s instagram story || 1.30.31

[hockeybazooka]

Anyone know any tea on necas?

Necas and Svechnikov used to allegedly go crazy during the summer a year or 2 back, like sharing girls between themselves, tag teaming and threesomes type shit. Necas did all of this while w/ his current gf Nykki but has now supposedly calmed down and theres been no rumors since then.

I have no idea if any of this shit is true so don't take this seriously

[u546i]

l'après-midi.

[queenofzan]

i understand this cannot be what happened like. mechanically. but narratively astarion was not into nykalaeni until he was there while she let the priest of the pain goddess hit her and then he was like "oh? oh???"

"well, i suppose now i know why you were so willing to be bitten, hmm? simply the sort of thing you enjoy, is it?"

[qzwrites]

nykalaeni/astarion 2.5

i forgot i wrote this and don't want to re-number all the posts lmao

something that frustrates me sometimes about role-playing games is the assumption of motive behind an action? and role-playing another autistic person whose desire for diplomacy does not actually stem much from idealism so much as an obsession with getting all the information and coming to a fair resolution, i was uhhh frustrated with the assumptions the companions put on things like "agreeing to help people".

-

Nykalaeni smiled at Jaheira politely. "Would you excuse us a moment?"

"Go ahead."

Nykalaeni grabbed Astarion's arm and dragged him into the corner of the room. "Are you an idiot?" she hissed.

Astarion looked taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

Nykalaeni pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ever since the wreck," she said, "you've been complaining about every remotely nice thing I say yes to doing."

"I simply think it's a waste of time--"

"You--" Nykalaeni forced herself to take a breath. "Astarion, I know you're aware of the concept of lying."

"You haven't been lying," he said. "We have been all over the bloody Sword Coast, doing one good deed after another."

"Yes, but I don't know that when I say it," Nykalaeni said. Astarion frowned at her. Nykalaeni sighed. "The easiest course of action is nearly always to agree with whoever you're talking to," she said. "I have also agreed to do horrible things for the Absolutists, without actually doing them, because it is easier to agree with people. People like being agreed with. They like to think you're on their side. That doesn't mean you have to be."

"Yes, fine," Astarion said, "I suppose you have also agreed with goblins and drow and necromancers only to later betray them. We've still gone out of our way to help people when it brings no benefit to us."

"Which is why I asked if you're stupid," Nykalaeni said, feeling her temper slip out of her grasp. She fought to keep her voice down as she went on, "Every single time we have done a 'good deed' it has immediately benefited us! Helping the refugee tieflings earned us several valuable allies, not to mention the good and services they have continued to provide on the road. When we helped the Fists put out that fire, we received valuable information about an Absolutist stronghold and their movements. When I took us 'out of our way' to help Wyll track down Karlach, we not only gained Wyll as an ally, but also Karlach, and I would say they have been pretty beneficial, Astarion!"

Astarion rolled his eyes. "So we've gotten lucky," he said.

Nykalaeni gritted her teeth. "Again," she said. "It feels like you're being willfully ignorant about this. I know you're not stupid, so I don't understand why you're such an asshole about this in particular."

"You have no idea how these things will turn out when you agree to them," he insisted. "Sometimes we don't see any benefits until much later, and we could just as soon have not gotten allies or rewards or what have you."

"No, we--" Nykalaeni cut herself off. "Oh," she said. "Do you really think that?"

"What do you think I've been saying," Astarion said, throwing his hands in the air.

"No, I--I guess I didn't understand," Nykalaeni said. Gods, he really was stupid. How had he gotten along in Baldur's Gate being this ignorant? The gods knew she had struggled for the first years of her life, before she realized how useful other people could be when you didn't ignore them all the time. "Astarion," she said. "People's goodwill is a resource. When I agree with people, they like me more, and are more willing to help us in the future. Being helpful is an extremely safe bet for increasing our chances of survival. Even when we fail, having tried--or even simply letting them think we tried--and sometimes even listening to them complain--they're still predisposed to think better of us and help us later."

Astarion cocked his head to the side. "My dear," he said, "are you saying you're nice to people specifically to get them to help us?"

"Why else would I be nice to people?" Nykalaeni asked, before she realized what she had just said, and grimaced. "That came out wrong," she said. "Obviously being nice to people is good anyway."

Astarion looked delighted. "Yet that wasn't your first choice of words," he said. "Darling, do you not actually care about the people we help?"

Nykalaeni crossed her arms over her chest. This was a question with a wrong answer, and historically it would absolutely not have been safe to answer honestly. But Astarion seemed to prefer that to the "correct" answer, and he had been honest with her about things other people would doubtlessly consider flaws. So she admitted, "Not especially." She added quickly, "But it rarely costs anything to listen. And the favorable response is pretty significant."

"All this time, I thought you were a sentimental idiot," Astarion said, almost laughing. Seeing it, Nykalaeni relaxed. Even knowing he was unlikely to call her unfeeling or callous, she hadn't truly believed he wouldn't judge her. Eyes practically twinkling, Astarion asked her, "This is a logical, unemotional choice for you? Truly?"

"I suppose it would be fair to call it a habit at this point," Nykalaeni said. It was the logical choice, but she'd been doing it so long it was her default response. Listening non-judgmentally, agreeing with people's complaints and requests, let her gather as much information as possible before making a decision. "But it is the most rational course of action in most circumstances. I mean," she said, shrugging, "we wanted to rescue Halsin from the goblin camp anyway, to consult him about the tadpoles, so the fact that it would keep Kahga from sealing the Grove and help the refugees was a bonus. Letting the tieflings think they played more of a role in the decision might be disingenuous, but now they're all willing to vouch for us."

"You're actually quite cunning," Astarion said. He looked at her fondly. "I appreciate the explanation."

"So will you stop snarking about me agreeing to hear people out?" Nykalaeni asked.

"Absolutely," Astarion said. He beckoned her closer with a crooked finger, and Nykalaeni took a step in, relieved. He gave her a regrettably short kiss, then smiled at her and said, "We should get back to it, then."

After that, of course, she still had Lae'zel and sometimes Shadowheart grumbling about the pointlessness of her generosity. Lae'zel approved of righting wrongs, but she didn't like the idea of being diverted from their goals. And often Shadowheart's complaints seemed rote, the sort of thing one would expect a Sharran to say. Nykalaeni was no longer as annoyed by it as she had once been, because she knew Lae'zel ultimately trusted her, and she strongly suspected Shadowheart's complaints were not sincere. Astarion had been the one whose objections bothered her the most, even though he never really offered any alternatives or seemed at risk of leaving the group, because Nykalaeni felt like he should understand.

It also helped to hear Lae'zel mutter something about something being a waste of time, and Astarion go, "Oh, hush, she's being clever."

"How so?" Shadowheart asked.

"Don't you see it?" Astarion replied. "Hmm. I thought it was obvious."

He was such a jackass sometimes, Nykalaeni thought, smiling to herself.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: did i start this fic in february? yes. is it now july? yes. is canes bash andrei timeless? also yes. 😂 genuinely this fic gave me so much difficulty and i could not get it finished in a timely manner for the life of me. but it’s here now and also serves as a chance to look at the pictures of andrei from the bash including my favorite with those giant ass fingers 🥵 ANYWAY, enjoyyyyy 😘

tw: semi-public sex, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, unprotected sex, nipple play, bossy and slightly mean andrei, mild choking,

word count: 5.7k

summary: during the canes bash, andrei steals you away for some private time

“Next year, I’m suggesting a boy toy auction,” you say, a little tipsy, gesturing towards the stage with your drink, “you know, like in One Tree Hill?”

Nykki, Gracia, and Amy look at you briefly and then burst into giggles. “Oh, could you imagine?” Amy says around laughter. “They’d hate that.”

The live auction continues, the crowd cheering as the price keeps going up. You sip at your wine, “poor winners would end up with a day on the golf course.”

“Who do you think would go for the most money?” Nykki asks. The three women share a look before chiming simultaneously, “Andrei!”

You snort a laugh and then jolt when you feel a large, warm hand on the nape of your neck. Andrei crowds at your back, his body heat enveloping you. “You called?” He jokes, thumb rubbing softly against your skin, making you shiver. “What were you talking about?”

The other three women, traitors all of them, smirk but don’t reply, leaving you to respond to your boyfriend. You don’t know what possesses you to answer honestly, maybe the alcohol, maybe the warmth of Andrei’s big body behind you. Whatever it is, you blurt, “how much money you’d go for in a boy toy auction.”

Andrei’s fingers still against your skin and the girls widen their eyes at you, Nykki lifting her hand to her mouth to muffle a laugh. You wince and sip at your wine, cheeks flushing with heat. Andrei’s thumb taps against the side of your neck and he hums lowly, the sound practically vibrating against your back when he steps in closer to you. “Boy toy?” He repeats, fingers tightening gently around the back of your neck.

You let out a little squeak, arousal flooding between your legs. It’s suddenly very hot in the arena. “Mhmm,” you manage to hum, completely distracted by Andrei’s hand on your neck. God only knows what your face is doing because Nykki shoots you a wicked grin, looking almost sympathetic for your plight.

Andrei clicks his tongue and leans in, his face appearing in your peripheral vision. You can see his mouth curl up in a little smile before he says to your friends, “I’m going to steal her, if that’s okay?”

All three laugh and wave you off, talking over each other as they tell you to have fun, don’t do anything they wouldn’t do, don’t get caught. You roll your eyes at them as Andrei leads you off, using his hand on your neck to guide you towards the other end of the covered ice. The fabric of your dress swishes around your shins, your heels clicking along the floor as Andrei’s pace picks up slightly.

“Too fast,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear you over the music and general chatter.

“Not fast enough,” Andrei says back, amusement in his tone. “Barely saw you tonight, solnyshka, missed you.”

His fingers are hot on your neck, his chest bumping against your back as he crowds you towards the photo booth set up for the fans. You’re interrupted as you go, fans stopping Andrei every few feet for a picture or to chat. His hand slides from your neck, between your shoulder blades, stops to rest in the curve of your lower back where the calloused edges of his fingers catch on the silky fabric of your dress. He chats with fans, friendly, but reserved, keeping you within arm’s reach. You step in occasionally, offering to take pictures for the fans, smiling and chatting too, even as arousal is pooling low in your stomach, heat dampening the crotch of your thong. When you’re at his side, Andrei’s fingers dance lightly over your lower back, making you shiver and your nipples pebble under the silk of your dress.

You just hope it’s dark enough that no one notices.

Eventually, Andrei’s hand is more insistent on your back, making excuses to step away and get you back on your previous path. His hand slides down to cup your ass, squeezing and massaging your flesh. You clench around nothing, inner thighs damp and slippery.

“Andrei,” you mutter his name in what you were hoping was a warning tone - you don’t want pictures of your PDA on social media and the Canes Bash is as public as it gets, with fans taking pictures of everything - but ends up coming out breathy and whiny.

“Shush,” he leans forward and presses a kiss to the hinge of your jaw, gripping more of your ass in one large hand. A strangled little groan slips past your lips and all you can focus on is Andrei’s little laugh in your ear and the way his hand is bunching the fabric of your dress up. You know the fabric is going to be wrinkled, but you can’t seem to find it in you to care when the old school photo booth comes into sight and you realize what Andrei’s plan is. There’s a little bit of a line for both the old school photo booth and the open plan photo wall, so Andrei settles you in the line, wrapping his arms around your front and resting his chin on top of your head.

He strikes up conversations with the fans around him, personable and funny, while holding you against his chest. Your ass presses against his groin, the bulge of his cock hot through your dress.

It’s more PDA than Andrei is usually comfortable with, especially at a work event, and you wonder just exactly has gotten into him. He sways a little as he’s chatting with another couple, hips thrusting forward with his movement. Your brain is going a little fuzzy, static hissing between your ears with each graze of his cock against your ass. You’re faintly aware that phones are pointed in your direction, a hazard of being with Andrei, and you duck your chin a little so your face isn’t necessarily front and center in any photos that are taken.

Andrei shuffles behind you, pushing you closer to the photo booth for your turn. “Look beautiful tonight, solnyshka,” he murmurs in your ear, kissing the side of your head. “Can’t stop looking at you when you’re not next to me.”

His words warm your entire body from the inside out, a soft giggle slipping past your lips. The casual flirting never gets old, no matter how long you’ve been together. You bring your hands up and hold onto his forearms, fingertips tracing lightly over the cuffs of his button down and suit jacket. “Looking pretty handsome yourself, Mr. Svechnikov,” you murmur quietly, pressing a little kiss to his exposed wrist bone.

Andrei’s body warmth heats your own skin and the scent of his cologne fills your senses, a blurry haze of lust and alcohol making time move strangely. Before you realize it, Andrei has you manhandled into the photo booth, the curtain pulled shut behind your bodies, and the button pressed on screen to start the countdown.

The screen flashes, taking a picture at the exact second Andrei’s hands on your hips force you down into his lap, the thick ridge of his erection nestling between your legs. Your eyes widen at the contact, a little gasp punching out of your lungs when you settle and feel how hard he is. “Oh!” you murmur, subconsciously grinding your ass back against him, stomach fluttering and arousal soaking your thong.

Andrei’s laugh at your back is low and gravely. “Smile,” he says, one arm banded around your waist, keeping you pressed firmly over his erection, his other hand sliding up your side and over your breast to rest at the base of your throat. His fingers curl gently, applying light pressure just as the second flash nearly blinds you.

“Andrei,” you rasp, arousal swirling in your stomach, cunt throbbing. Someone could accidentally slide the curtain open at any second. Someone is going to see the photo strip before you can snatch it.

Two thick fingers tap on your lower lip and you open your mouth automatically, conditioned to know what Andrei wants. His index and middle fingers slide past your lips, his thumb tucked under your chin. Your tongue curls around his digits, saliva already pooling in your mouth. Andrei hums a satisfied little noise against your bare shoulder, his fingers thrusting shallowly in your mouth. A shiver runs down your spine, nipples pebbling painfully.

A third flash, your eyes wide and lips wrapped securely around Andrei’s fingers. You catch a glimpse on the preview screen, Andrei’s face is only visible from the bridge of his nose and up. But you can feel the satisfied smirked curve of his lips against your skin. The arm around your waist tightens and you don’t know if you bounce on his lap of your own accord or if Andrei is the one shifting your body over his clothed cock.

A wet spot has to be forming on your dress’s fabric where it’s tucked under your ass.

Your body heats up, hottest where Andrei’s cock is nestled between your legs in the curve of your ass. And then all at once, the fourth flash and a cool draft of air on your right breast, your nipple an unbearably tight point as it’s exposed to the cool air of the arena. Andrei’s fingers are hot against the side curve of your breast, holding the fabric of your dress so you’re exposed to the camera. Your eyes are wide, lips clamped tightly around his fingers, a hiccuped gasp trapped in your throat.

“Andrei!” You hiss, finally coming to your senses, his fingers falling to your chest, leaving a wet trail of your saliva as they move to circle your nipple. He pinches the nub and you hiss again, fresh heat pulsing between your legs. His lips find your bare shoulder and his teeth nip your skin before he presses a kiss to the same spot. “Someone…” you breathe, finding it hard to manage a full sentence with Andrei’s fingers working over your nipple. “The photos…”

His chuckle vibrates through your chest and you shiver, pressing your ass into his groin.

“I can feel how wet you are,” Andrei’s voice is teasing. “You want someone to see, don’t you?”

You whine his name, embarrassingly wet for him and he knows it. His teeth scrape over your heated skin and with one last tweak of your nipple, Andrei stands, forcing you back onto shaky legs. His chest is solid against your back, cock still pressed tantalizingly to the curve of your ass, a brand against the silky fabric of your dress.

Andrei kisses the side of your neck, fingers groping at your chest while he pulls your dress back into place. You’re covered again, but just barely, the fabric slightly out of place and your pointed nipples blatantly obvious through the fabric. There are little wet spots from your saliva on the fabric and you exhale heavily when Andrei’s tongue darts out to lick over your pulse point, heartbeat kicking into overdrive.

You need him, desperately.

He laughs and murmurs softly, “how fast do you think I can make you come?”

The small space of the photo booth feels even smaller and you whimper, “very,” much to Andrei’s amusement.

“Let’s test that,” he says, one huge hand landing on your ass cheek and guiding you out of the booth with a firm press. You can’t even begin to imagine what you look like, too hot and probably lightly debauched. Thank god your lipstick wore off hours ago or it would be smeared all over your chin. Andrei smiles and nods at the people waiting and he snatches the strip of photos smoothly from the little well.

He looks down at the strip, a smug little smile pulling at his mouth. You try to look too, to see if the grainy film can capture just how debauched you feel, but Andrei clicks his tongue and tucks the photos into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

“Ah,” he grins at you, “these are just for me. When I miss you on the road.”

You nearly stamp your foot, the pleasure coiled in your stomach waning to a dull throb, and Andrei catches sight of the pout that’s forming on your face before you can fully deploy it. He catches your chin in between his thumb and index finger, middle finger curled under your jaw, and dips his head low so he can whisper in your ear. “Be good, solnyshka. Maybe I let you take your own photos later, yes?”

Your stomach flips and fresh heat makes your head dizzy. Andrei smirks at you, knowing what effect his words have on you, especially when you turn into him, leaning your entire front against his side. Your hands trail over his back and stomach, just above his belt, and you look up at him from under your eyelashes. His stomach muscles contract under your touch and you grin. “I was promised an orgasm,” you murmur against his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his body when he snakes his arm over your shoulder and holds you close.

“And you’ll get one,” Andrei laughs, pinching your wrist in his free hand when you slide it up his chest, fingers reaching for his jacket pocket and the photo strip hidden within. You whine and Andrei squeezes your wrist just a little bit tighter. “So impatient,” he kisses the side of your head and leads you off, around the crowds and down the tunnel to the locker rooms

“Andrei,” you frown to yourself as he leads you down the dark hallway, the noise of the Bash getting quieter. People definitely saw you leave and head this way. You’re not even sure if you’re allowed to be back here, in off hours. But Andrei’s hand is warm on your ass, heat seeping through the fabric of your dress, and he gives you a little squeeze.

When you look back at him, you see the faint smile on his face, the way his eyes are trained on you.

“I won’t let anyone see you,” he promises on a low laugh, knowing what you’re worried about despite the thrill that runs up your spine at the thought of being caught. “You’re all mine, remember. No one else gets to see how wet your little pussy gets for my cock.”

A little gasp is startled from your mouth at Andrei’s words and the low, rough tone of his voice. You barely notice that you’re inside the locker room now, surrounded by the stalls, until Andrei’s hand slides up your back and comes to rest in between your shoulder blades pushing gently, guiding you further into the room.

“‘M not letting you fuck me in here,” you mumble, thighs slipping against each other as you walk. “When’s the last time it was cleaned?”

Andrei laughs, clearly surprised by your comment, his mouth falling open so you can see the spot where his tooth is missing when you crane your neck to look back at him. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, murmuring, “not here, we’ll go to training room.” His fingers dip under the fabric of your dress, raising goosebumps when the calloused tips of them trail over the notches of your spine. “I want to bend you over the table.”

“Oh,” a little puff of air slips past your lips, your mouth curling up in a smile. “I very much want to be bent over a table.”

You giggle when Andrei’s hand clamps down on the back of your neck, a surprised little shriek slipping out when he wraps a strong, thick arm around your waist and holds you to his side, legs dangling a few inches off the ground and swinging with his long strides into the training room. Your hands clamp around his forearm, clit throbbing and arousal dripping down your thighs. You just hope your dress isn’t wet, otherwise that’ll be an embarrassing return to the party.

Before you can blink, Andrei’s body is hot at your back, one broad hand pushing between your shoulder blades to bend you at the waist over one of the padded massage tables. Your body obeys easily, forearms crossed under your chest, propping you up slightly, your back arching. Andrei’s hand glides a hot path down your spine and then there’s cool air on your overheated skin, the fabric of your dress gathered in Andrei’s hands and bunched up at your waist.

He curses lowly in Russian, the rumble of his accent making your cunt clench and your hips cant backwards, searching for him. “Gorgeous,” Andrei mumbles, draping his chest over your back, kissing the bare expanse of your shoulder blade at the same time his hand cracks down on your exposed asscheek. You jolt forward, your skin heated, a surprised yelp forcing its way from your throat at Andrei’s spank.

“Andrei!” You whine his name and jolt forward again, dripping wet, when his hand cracks down on your ass again. His hand soothes over the heated spot, his lips marking a trail down your spine until he reaches the top of your zipper, mid-way down your back.

He laughs a little and his fingers dance over your cheek, dipping between the cleft of your ass and brushing up against the tight ring of your asshole. You grunt a little, clenching around nothing, a spike of heat sharp in your stomach. “Not tonight,” he soothes, fingers dancing down until they find your soaked cunt. “Soon though, again?”

You nod like a bobble head, lifting your ass even higher to get Andrei’s fingers against your swollen clit. He laughs at your needy whine, dipping his fingers lazily through your folds, letting his fingertips brush against your clit, but giving you no real relief. “So needy, solnyshka,” he mumbles, distracted. His attention is on your glistening cunt, dripping for him. “How many fingers do you think you can take now? One, two?”

“More,” you sigh, looking over your shoulder. “Three and your cock, Drei, please.”

He grins at you, flashing the spot where his tooth is missing, his eyes twinkling. “You want everything, yes?” A quick, sharp twist of his fingers against your clit has you screaming his name and lifting higher on your toes, liquid heat pooling in your stomach.

“Yes, please, fast. Baby, I want it fast,” you babble, words falling from your lips as Andrei’s fingers strum at your clit, stoking the pleasure boiling in your stomach. “Wanna go back to the party.”

Andrei’s fingers pump into you, middle and ring up to the first knuckle, and you gasp his name, moaning. “My bossy girl,” he leans down and kisses your shoulder, pumping and twisting his fingers. “In no position to be making orders.”

You lift up on your toes, pressing harder into the table with each push of his fingers into your cunt. “Andrei,” you chant his name in time with the press of his fingers, arousal gushing around his hand, dripping down your inner thighs. The rough pads of his fingers press and hold against your g-spot, making you see stars and sending you over the edge of pleasure, orgasm hitting hard and fast. The pressure of his fingers in your cunt and his other fingers twisting your nipples keeps you coming longer than usual, your cunt clenching his fingers in a vice grip while you squirt all over his hand and your legs.

He’s murmuring behind you, praise and filth that you can’t hear over the rush of blood pounding in your head and the high pitched whines and moans spilling from your lips. Your legs tremble, toes pressed against the soles of your heels, the thin circumference of the stilettos clacking gently against the floor as you shake. “Oh god,” you exhale harshly, back arched and hips pushing against Andrei’s. “More, please, baby.”

Andrei’s hands are hot on your ass, kneading at your cheeks. His right hand is wet, leaving damp trails over your skin and you shiver when he leans down to blow on your skin, the wet spots immediately cold. “Three fingers and my cock, yes?” He asks, laughing.

“Yesss,” you hiss, breaking off in a wail as soon as Andrei stuffs three thick fingers in your cunt, stretching and massaging the walls until you’re biting your fist so you don’t shriek too loud.

“Such a good girl,” Andrei praises you, curling his fingers and brushing his knuckles against your g-spot. “My perfect girl and her tight, wet cunt. Thinks she’s the boss, telling me what to do because she wants to go back to the party.”

His hand has a tight grip on your ass while he makes you come a second time, your own hand slipped down to circle your clit for extra sensation. The tug of pleasure low in your stomach builds until you’re seeing stars behind your eyelids, gasping breaths sawing from your lungs. “Too much,” you mumble, Andrei’s fingers thick and insistent in your cunt, working you to a third orgasm. Everything feels raw and sensitive, overloaded to border on pain.

His fingers slow down, gently stroking now, and you sigh. Your cheek presses against the cushioned tabletop and you look at Andrei over your shoulder, poking your lower lip out in a pout. His face is flushed, hair falling over his forehead, and he looks nearly as wrecked as you feel. You blink at him and he chuckles, folding at the waist to drape his chest over your back and press a sweet kiss to your pouted lips. You sigh against his mouth and when he sucks gently at your lower lip, a lick of heat travels up your spine accompanied by a lurch of arousal in your stomach. He tastes like alcohol and the faint salt of soy sauce, his sushi addiction made tangible.

A low hum works its way up your throat while Andrei’s hands work their magic. One broad palm slides up the curve of your ass and rests on your lower back, the other leaves the tight grip of your cunt and you can hear the faint clink of his his belt buckle being undone. You grin against Andrei’s lips and press your ass back against his groin, feeling the hard line of his cock and the cool bite of his open zipper.

He bites down on your lower lip and pulls back, briefly, before pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “Don’t move,” he warns you in a low voice, “or I’ll have to punish you.”

With a wiggle of your ass against his groin, you giggle breathlessly and retort, “what if I want to be punished?”

Your heartbeat still isn’t back to normal after the back to back orgasms and the way Andrei’s breath ghosts over your cheek doesn’t help regulate it. You can feel his hand move against your ass, the leaking tip of his cock hot against your inner thigh. “Solnyshka,” his voice is a low rumble, “behave and I’ll give you everything you want.”

You whine and nod, pressing back against Andrei’s cock. He’s bare, hot and throbbing against your inner thigh and when he slides the length against your soaked folds, the tip catching against your clit, you wail his name. He shushes you and prods the broad head of his cock against your entrance, your body accommodating the stretch of him as he slowly pushes inside. Your arms land flat on the tabletop and your fingers scratch at the cushion, hips pushing back on Andrei’s cock.

“Slow,” he sounds strained, voice wobbling a little. “Slow or nothing, solnyshka.”

“Okay, okay,” you cry, gasping when Andrei pushes another inch into you, the veins on his cock rubbing against the walls of your cunt. “Oh my god,” you clench around him, wet and sensitive. Andrei pushes in another few inches and the overwhelming fullness of him punches a breath from your lungs, legs trembling with the effort of not buckling. His hands are tight on your hips, surely leaving bruises that you’ll be able to trace with your fingers for days.

You’re drifting one hand to your chest, planning on playing with your nipples for extra sensation when Andrei gives one more harsh thrust and bottoms out, filling you to the hilt. His name falls from your lips in a strangled moan and you nearly scream when he rotates his hips, pushing his cock deeper and scraping your bare ass with the zipper of his fly. The elastic of your thong bites into the crease of your thigh where it’s been pushed aside this whole time.

Andrei’s voice rumbles behind you, Russian mumbled in time with his thrusts. You squeeze around him and he groans, slapping the side of your ass gently before reaching around your hip to pinch your clit. You yelp and instinctively buck your hips, pulling off his cock a few inches. Andrei’s hips chase yours and you’re stuffed full of him again, incoherent babbling filling the air.

“Too much,” you whimper, his fingers toying with your clit and his cock battering your g-spot. Forget going back to the party, you’re going to be a dehydrated husk on the floor if Andrei keeps this up, arousal dripping down your thighs in obscene rivers.

Andrei pulls back, leaving just the head of his cock nestled in your cunt, stretching you out. “My girl, she talked a big game,” Andrei laughs, pumping his hips in shallow little thrusts. Your cunt clenches around just the tip, the strange feeling of being stretched and empty at the same time making you whimper and claw behind you for his hand. He moves one big hand off your hip and laces his fingers with yours, squeezing gently.

“More, oh god, Drei,” you whine, trying to fuck yourself back on his cock, but Andrei won’t move and only gives you the head of his cock and an inch or so more.

“I thought it was too much?” Andrei’s tone is faintly mocking, a laugh bubbling beneath the surface. You growl a little and kick your foot out, clipping his shin, which only makes him laugh harder. He keeps you in limbo, stretched open on the head of his cock and giving you no more. “You want another orgasm?”

“Yesss,” you hiss, reaching your free hand down to find your clit. The sensitive bundle is sore and reactive, little zaps of pleasure running through your body as soon as you roll it between your index finger and thumb. You’re nearly there, primed and ready after the two previous orgasms.

Andrei releases your hand and you can feel him shift behind you, gripping his cock in his hand and stroking himself, hand bumping against your soaked folds as he goes. “Better get it before I come,” Andrei says, stroking his cock faster.

Your brain is fuzzy, blood pounding in your ears. “Huh?”

Without pausing his hand, the tip of his cock twitching in your cunt, Andrei repeats himself, “if you want a third, make yourself come before I do, solnyshka.”

“Andrei…” you mutter, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Your fingers stumble over your clit and the rhythmic stroking of Andrei’s hand on his cock is distracting you.

“Fast, we want to get back to the party,” he teases, groaning as he works himself over.

Bastard.

Your fingers get back to work, moving on autopilot, and it only takes a few seconds to realize that the half-full feeling your cunt being stretched open on the head of Andrei’s cock is doing more to hurt than help you. You need more of him, more that he won’t give you, and you press your forehead against the tabletop, groaning as you play with your clit.

It’s right there, your orgasm, building fast in your stomach and you’re nearly at the edge when Andrei grunts and you feel his cock head twitch, spurting come, hot and thick into your cunt. “Fuck,” you moan in unison with him, clenching and wriggling as he fills you up, coming for several long heartbeats. You give your clit a few more swipes, pinching and rolling until the coil of pleasure snaps and you’re following Andrei over the edge, coming with a shriek of his name.

“Cheater,” Andrei gasps, voice hoarse. He pulls his cock from between your legs, his come immediately dripping out of you.

“Too fucked out to argue,” you mumble back, shifting your weight and rubbing your thighs together slightly. You feel too empty now, the phantom impression of his cock still making your cunt twitch. He presses a kiss to your shoulder and tugs the fabric of your thong back into place, making you wince and wiggle.

“Keep that safe for me,” he murmurs, tucking himself back into his pants. His zipper is loud in the quiet training room, his belt clinking again in an echo of a few minutes ago. Your thong is immediately soaked and the wet fabric sticks to you in a way that’s bordering on unpleasant the longer it touches you.

Propping yourself up on an elbow, you twist and look back at Andrei. His face is red and you can see that his pupils are still dilated. “I have to go back out there like this?” You ask, finally shifting your weight so you’re standing upright. Your knees wobble and more fluid drips down your thighs - thanks to gravity.

He leans in and kisses you quickly, tracing the tip of his tongue over your lower lip before pulling back with a wicked, dimpled grin. You know you’re in trouble even before he says, “you wanted to get back to the party, right? Go ahead.”

“Andrei…” you feel your lips poke out in a pout, nose wrinkling at the thought of trying to walk around the arena and rejoin the party like this.

He repeats your name in the same tone, cupping your chin in his palm. “If you’re good, I’ll clean you up at home,” he promises, reaching down to pull your dress back over your hips and ass, squatting while he straightens the fabric out. You shiver and he feels it, resting his cheek against your thigh. He looks up at you with those big brown eyes and gives you a smile that’s softer than his words.

You run your hand through his hair, curling your fingers around the back of his head and shiver again, thighs slick and cunt clenching faintly around nothing. You really should know better than to let Andrei get his hands on you in a private space, you have no one to blame for your current situation but yourself.

“Can we leave early?” You murmur, when he stands up and steps to the side to pump some hand sanitizer into his palm. Your legs are less shaky than you thought they’d be when you start following him out of the training room, but you’re still walking a little bowlegged.

“Oh,” he stops short and turns to grab your upper arms before you can bounce off his back, “now you want to leave early?”

You hum, flattening your lips into a line, and deadpan, “yeah, because now I’ve got come dripping down my thighs.”

Andrei laughs and kisses your forehead sweetly. “Can’t leave before it ends,” he loops his arm over your shoulder and you fall into step next to him. “Responsibilities to team, solnyshka.”

“You’re such a menace,” you grumble, leaning against his side as you go, with a brief stop for Andrei to actually wash his hands with soap and water. You’re not about to let him subject the fans to what went down in your personal life, no matter how uncomfortable you are right now. You twitch and shift your hips, wincing when a fresh spill of liquid hits your thong. If your dress isn’t covered in damp spots, it’ll be a miracle.

His hand finds your lower back like a magnet and you emerge back into the party area, the dim lighting doing the most to hide your slightly disheveled state.

You make it barely ten feet before Andrei is distracted by a small group of fans. You take a group picture for them and then wander off in search of a drink. After finding one and knocking back half of it, you drift off to the sides of the transformed rink and Nykki appears at your side. She has a wicked grin on her face and you’re already shaking your head before she opens her mouth.

“I can’t believe you snuck off for a quickie,” she cracks up and holds her phone in the air, “and it wasn’t even that quick!”

“In our defense,” you can’t help but laugh a little, “it was three quickies and that adds up to however long we were gone.”

“Forty-five minutes, babe,” Nykki informs you, whistling under her breath. “I’m beyond impressed and inspired to go and find Martin.”

“I recommend waiting,” you sip at your drink and wriggle again. “Or finding a condom.”

Nykki’s delighted laughter is swallowed a bit by the noise in the arena and you laugh along with her, acutely aware that people around you are starting to look over. Including your boyfriend.

Andrei catches your eye and winks at you, his dimple popping out on his cheek. He wiggles his fingers at you in a little wave, the same fingers that had just been buried to the second knuckle in your cunt, and you flush.

His smile widens and you roll your eyes at him, even as you press your thighs together to stop the way they tremble.

At your side, Nykki scoffs. “You two are shameless, it’s hilarious,” she teases.

You press a hand to your heated cheeks and shake your head, “I can’t even argue with that right now.”

The party lasts a few more hours, your attention drawn by the fans and Jarvy’s attempt at bartending. Before you know it, Andrei is at your side again, holding your coat in one hand.

“Ready to go get cleaned up?” He teases quietly, holding up your coat for you to slip your arms in. Once you’re bundled in the coat, burying your face in the collar, Andrei holds you to his side and you head for the garage.

“Hmm,” you hum, arm wrapped around his waist and face pressed against his side, “it’s been a few hours, I think I want to get dirty again.”

[stormsplurge]

nobody's fool

warnings: none!

pairing(s): seth jarvis x fem! reader

1239 words

a/n: its not directly inspired by the song but i've been listening to shes always a woman by billy joel on repeat for the last 2 days which is where the title comes from. it's also not proofread at all so please ignore any typos or spelling errors. i hope you guys enjoy this one!

“oh my GOD!” you squealed as the last couple of seconds of the game ticked by on the jumbotron and the “canes win” rang out through the arena. 

the hurricanes had won their first game of their series against the rangers, and the entire building was buzzing.

you could feel nykki next to you screaming her lungs out as the two of you jumped up and down in your seats.

a couple of days ago, after returning from new york and losing to the rangers again, you saw a fire get lit under your boyfriend (and the entire teams) ass. they had come back to playoffs with something to prove, trying not to get swept for the second year in a row, and they’d pulled it off. 

as you walked with the other wags towards the locker room you felt a sudden jolt of energy run through your body. after the last game everyone had been down, seth especially. his tendency to place all the blame on himself was in full force, but this win was exactly what he needed to pull himself out of his head.

you were in the middle of making small talk with gracia when the boys began trailing out of the locker room. brady was one of the first ones out, wrapping his arms around his wife as soon as he was within arms reach of her.

“we’re all heading to the bar.” he said. “you and ton of fun should come.”

“thanks for the invite skjeisy.” you replied, before your boyfriend entered your eyeline. 

you shot out a quick “see you there!” before bouncing towards the entrance to the locker room, practically jumping into seths arms. 

“congratulations!” you giggled as he hooked his arm around your waist and began walking the two of you towards the parking lot. 

if you were enthusiastic about the win, seth was practically bursting at the seams with excitement. his trademark giddiness shining around him like a halo.

“oh my god!” he exclaimed as the two of you made it outside. “i have no idea how we pulled that off.”

“i know how.” you replied. “you guys are fucking awesome thats how.”

“you’re my good luck charm you know, we wouldnt have done it without you.”

“whatever you say jarvy.” you said as your cheeks begin to heat up. 

seth was always selfless, insisting that every win was because of anyone but him. doing everything to shine the spotlight on someone else. 

——

as the two of you drove towards the bar you reminisced on your first christmas in winnipeg together. 

it was a white christmas, something you weren’t used to seeing as you had never lived as far north as seth had, and kayden was telling you about how eager seth was to get on the ice with his brother and his friends. he was smaller than all the other guys but still itching to play with them, begging their mom to let him play for a couple more minutes everytime she insisted he get off the ice and take a break.

seth was too busy helping his mom with something to notice that his brother was telling you every embarrassing story he could possibly think of. blowing through the kitchen like a tornado helping as fast as possible so he could get back to his spot right next to you in front of the fireplace. 

kayden was in the middle of telling you about the first year seth was with the winterhawks, how he’d call their parents every night complaining about how much he missed home, when your boyfriend returned to his spot amidst the piles of wrapping paper littered around the living room. 

“kayden!” he exclaims as he sits down. “stop telling embarrassing stories about me you asshole.”

“i’m just telling her what she deserves to know.” kayden responds, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before a throw pillow lands in his face.

seth lets out a long groan before getting up and pulling you with him, slowly dragging you towards his room. the walls littered with duke memorabilia and hockey stuff. 

“he’s such a dick” he whines as he shuffles towards his desk. 

“i think its hilarious.” you reply, making yourself comfortable on your boyfriends bed, craning you neck to try and figure out what he’s trying to find as he rattles through the drawers. 

it isn’t long before he whirls around, a small turquoise box in his hands, and sits in front of you. 

“seth…” you question, “what is this.”

“okay.” he rambles, opening the box and revealing a small necklace within. “i got my mom a car the first year i played, and my dad a car last year, so this year i wanted to get you something nice.”

tears began welling up in the corners of you eyes as he continued his speech.

“… i wasn’t really sure what to get cause you already have a bunch of really nice stuff back home in raleigh, so i asked nykki for help cause she knows that type of stuff and we picked this out.”

the necklace was a simple circle attached to a chain, with one end of the circle wider than the other end. minimalistic, but beautiful.

“oh my god…” you responded. “i don’t even know what to say.”

the gesture alone was enough to bring you to tears. the drops of salty water streaming down your face and pooling at your chin. 

you were at a loss for words, so you opted for closing the gap between you and seth and pulling him into a deep kiss. 

“do you like it?” he asked after you broke the kiss, finally coming up for air.

“i love it seth it’s beautiful.” you replied and you turned and exposed the back of your neck. “do you want to help me put it on?”

“oh yeah yes totally yes please.” seth jumbled out, words falling out of his mouth like loose teeth.

“don’t act like you’ve never seen the back of my neck before.” you joked, turning to face him after he closed the clapse.

“it’s just, like, different this time i guess.”

“youre adorable when you’re flustered.” you remarked, placing your hands on the sides of his jaw and running your thumb over his cheek. “i guess that means i’ll have to get you to help me put on all my necklaces if i want to keep seeing you like this.”

“i would gladly help you put on every piece of jewelry, you don’t even have to say please.”

“careful mr jarvis, someone might hear you and think you’re in love.”

“i’ll shout it from the rooftops i dont care.” he exclaims, throwing his arms in the air and puffing up his chest. “i’m in love!”

“this is the best christmas gift ever” you giggle, falling back onto the bed in your fit of laughter. seth quickly flopping down next to you. 

as you finished reminiscing and found yourself back in the present, sitting in the passenger seat of seth’s beat up old volkswagon, playing with the tiffany necklace around your neck. 

“i love you.” you said as you brought your free hand over top of where seth’s right hand was positioned on top of your leg, tracing circles over the top of his hand. “i know i say it all the time but i’m so proud of you.”

“i love you too.”

[thenhlteaissuperhot]

nykki (martin necas' girlfriend) just posted some sort of q&a on her youtube channel and from the translation of the title, she should be talking about the nhl too, could you perhaps watch it and translate the interesting bits for us since its in czech?

This video was actually really interesting.

I have said it in the past already, but Nykki is genuinely one of the most sensible, down-to-earth, and level-headed WAGs I have seen on social media, so her answers were impressive and definitely worth hearing:

She answered the question about how she and Martin met:

Said that it is the most-asked question she gets - "My theory is that some of the people, who are asking me that, probably want to date a hockey player and they don't know how to do that. Personally, I wouldn't go for a hockey player." (she is so real laughing her ass off during that last part)

She would really want to have some sort of romantic story, but they literally started dating because he was constantly liking her photos, then DMed her on Instagram, they started texting and FaceTiming for several months before they actually saw each other in real life and started dating like two months after.

Talked about what it is like living as a (European) WAG, who moved to the US because of her boyfriend:

The players are away for half of the month during the season, so they don't see each other as often as people may think.

It was really hard for her to make friends among the other WAGs in the first year.

Overall, she expressed that she really struggled the first year and even thought that she wouldn't be able to live like that, wanting to go back home.

She also found it really hard to understand the "NHL lifestyle" (said that the term alone seems silly to her to this day) - "It is an extremely particular group of people. Even among the girls, in the room where we meet during the games, there are so many unspoken rules. I am an open book, I like to share my thoughts, and I hate small shallow talks, but I understood quite quickly that it doesn't work like that here and you can't trust everyone. It is everywhere like that - when you come to a room where there are twenty-five girls, at the end of the day, you only get along with a few of them, and I didn't understand that in the beginning. I kinda burned myself."

She can't have a work permit in the US and neither can all the European WAGs because their visas are officially under their partners - said that it is extremely hard for everyone to get a work permit in the US, but for them, it is practically impossible. A lot of other WAGs have tried, they poured a lot of money into the lawyers, and no one, she knows, has so far succeeded.

Where it is possible for the WAGs to obtain work permits, is in Canada - during this part, she also joked that Martin doesn't have a contract for the next year, so maybe they could move there.

Because of this whole work permit issue, she started doing social media, producing music, and writing scripts for some sort of company (the last two I understood are jobs in the Czech Republic, which she does online), making her own money.

She also said that life in Raleigh, North Carolina is quite uneventful compared to Prague, where she is from - however, she is also aware of the fact, that Raleigh is a quite safe place to live and that she can be glad for it because it's not like that everywhere in the States (as she knows from the experiences of other WAGs).

She also answered money-related questions as many people think that her boyfriend pays for everything in her life:

It is crazy for her that some people think that she is dating him only for the money - said that she didn't move across the Atlantic, away from her family and friends, and the established life she had in the Czech Republic, because of designer bags.

Said that all the WAGs (not just hockey ones) always showcase their life on social media to people who follow them in a manner that makes it seem better than it actually is - posting how they go to the games, how they all have their hair done, designer handbags...

She emphasized that they do have it really easy in a lot of things, and that it actually bothers her (personally she wouldn't be able to bear being financially dependent on her boyfriend - at least that's what I think she meant), but that there are also a lot of disadvantages, for example, if she is going to have kids one day in the States, their grandparents aren't going to see them because they are on the other side of the Atlantic.

At the end of the NHL-related segment, she brought up the question "what would you do if you broke up?"

She emphasized that she is one of the lucky ones because she has managed to find a way how to make a living on her own so this question doesn't really worry her because her life would simply continue, just back in Prague, not in the USA, but that many of the girls are studying in the States or just living there with their boyfriends and solely because of their boyfriends, and that once they break up, it is extremely difficult for them.

[penaltybox-gossip]

Nykki posted this on her story and other canes wags did too apparently

[pyotrkochetkov]

Martin Nečas with a kitten

[smileysvech]

“Martin doesn’t kiss with his mouth full”

[gossiparoundtherinks]

this article in Czech translates to “Lukas Dostal dating Martin Necas’s ex gf” https://www.idnes.cz/zpravy/revue/vztahy-a-sex/lukas-dostal-brankar-partnerka-laska-vztah-necas-mertlova.A240530_101421_sex_sub

There’s also more pics of them together on her social media (not the private IG)

^^^

Also what does it matter now Necas been with Nykki for years now. You'd think he'd be over it

[hanaaishi]

I found out today that Nykki sometimes call Gigi "Giginchko," and I just think that's the cutest thing ever.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

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.