A/N: why is nobody on the Andrei Svechnikov train with me..... why am i the conductor and the engineer and all of the passengers (i had to use the word y/n in this ewwwwieeee)
yourusername: posted 4 hours ago
♫: Scott Street - Phoebe Bridgers
yourusername: it's a shower beer 🙏 (silly announcement tomorrow! 😇)
liked by clairo, brittanybroski, tatemcrae, sabrinacarpenter, samia, malcomtodd, sethjarvis_, lhughes_06 and 509,937 others
COMMENTS...
fan8492: His name was "Quinn" what did we expect
quinnie: Ok chill man
clairo: me when it's a shower beer AND a payment plan .....
liked by yourusername and others
fan592: Margin 😢
madisonbeer: Are you into girls yet
yourusername: One night with you and i will be
lhughes_06: Lift your chin up queen your crown is falling
yourusername: Bitch 😭
sabrinacarpenter: i hope the ghosts that haunt him convince him to jump
yourusername: 🙏
fan940: OMGMFMGMGM break-up album announcement???????
quinnfan849: He was too hot for you anyways puck bunny
yourusername: i have ur ip
VIEW 25,849 OTHER COMMENTS...
yourusername: posted 7 hours ago
♫: Staying - Y/N Y/LN
yourusername: Staying - My first single in almost 2 years!!! out right now!!! i always use my music to tell my story, but this is probably the most honest I've been in a song with my feelings!! thank you to jack antonoff for help producing this song, thank you to all of my friends who helped me get through the time that inspired this song. 🤍
liked by andrei_svechnikov37, rolemodel, lhughes_06, sabrinacarpenter, clairo, fan73927 and 550,730 others
COMMENTS...
lhughes_06: Maybe i would be okay if i let this go forever 😔
yourusername: i was on my shakespeare shit icl
fan84920: Did he ever ask you to eat his ass ❤️
yourusername: girl
sabrinacarpenter: WHISPER TO ME BABY !!!!!!
yourusername: *whispers softly in your ear and blushes*
_sethjarvis: Platinum in my house immediately
yourusername: jarvy!!!! ur too kind 🤍
clairo: on EVERYONE'S life you will have a world tour
yourusername: I'm lucky if i even open for u syfm
sukiwaterhouse: This was so beautifully written, angel! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷
liked by yourusername and others
fan1649: Qh found DEAD in his apartment 💔
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yourusername posted on their story....
♫: enough for you - Olivia Rodrigo
REPLIES:
oliviarodrigo: girl jump that man 😭
sabrinacarpenter: You were too interesting for his flop ass
lhughes_06: Can i still come over next week to watch Sinners or no 😔😔
andrei_svechnikov37: I have not read this book, is it good?
warnings: mentions of andrei's injury, the canes doing not so well, kids.
word count: 690 words
a/n: ok so i wrote this around last year when svech got injured for playoffs and i'm just posting it now lololol. but anyway! i felt like this was such a cute concept and needed to write it, so here it is! hope you enjoy it, i'm always open to feedback, requests, etc, etc.
“how much time till you can return to skating, dada?” your little girl, sofiya, asked as andrei tucked her into bed.
“that’s quite a long time, sunshine,” he replied. she pouted; there was nothing she loved more than going to games and supporting her daddy in her little svech jersey.
though andrei’s injury kept him off the ice, there wasn’t much anyone could do to stop him from visiting the rink, and sofiya would gladly follow him everywhere—she was such a daddy’s girl, after all.
so you’d still attend some games, but ever since svech was out, losing had become a constant, and frustration was clearly building within the team. especially for andrei, who couldn’t help but feel guilty for not being able to play.
the mood wasn’t the best, but when it came to sofiya, he would always put on a smile. it wasn’t often that they got to spend so much time together, so she loved having him home to attend her tea parties, tuck her into bed, and take her to school. as much as she adored it, though, she knew her dad missed being on the ice, and sofiya didn’t like seeing him hurt and sad. so one morning, just as she heard andrei leaving for therapy, she went downstairs with what she thought was the perfect plan to cheer him up.
you were in the kitchen, tidying up from breakfast. it was still early, so you planned to get a bit more sleep, assuming your little girl wouldn’t be up until later—or so you thought, until you heard her quick footsteps on the stairs.
“morning, love. what are you doing up so early?” you asked, watching as she entered the kitchen and grabbed a stool to stand next to you.
“can we make chocolate chip cookies?” she asked, leaving a kiss on your cheek.
“cookies? it’s too early for those, baby,” you said, though knowing chocolate chip cookies were her all-time favorite.
“i know, mom, but cookies make me happy. i bet they’ll make dada happy, too!” she said, explaining her plan with such conviction that you couldn’t help but smile.
it was so sweet how she was thinking of ways to cheer up her dad. so, you quickly gave in, gathered all the ingredients, and handed her a small apron.
she started by cracking the eggs (with a tiny bit of shell making it into the bowl), then you helped her measure the flour, and sofiya poured in what seemed like way too many chocolate chips. the kitchen turned into a delightful mess: flour dusted the counters, little chocolate fingerprints decorated the cabinets, and sofiya sneaked a few chocolate chips every chance she got.
“daddy’s gonna love this!” she said, her eyes shining with excitement.
but just as the first batch of cookies went into the oven, you heard the door open earlier than expected, and sofiya’s face fell.
“oh no, mom! he’s here too soon. it’s all ruined,” she muttered, disappointed.
andrei stepped into the kitchen, chuckling as he took in the scene—flour everywhere, cookie dough on the counters, and sofiya’s pouty face.
“sunshine, what’s all this?” he asked, his eyes softening as he looked at her.
“i wanted to surprise you,” she murmured. “make you happy like you make me happy.”
his face brightened, and he pulled her into a warm hug. “well, you sure did, kiddo. this is the best surprise i could ask for.”
sofiya smiled brightly, inviting him to join her. together, the three of you continued baking. as andrei helped sofiya clean up the counters, you caught his eye, sharing a warm smile. moments like these were rare but so precious.
as the cookies finished baking, andrei had an idea. “hey, sweetheart, how about we take these cookies to practice and share them with the team?”
sofiya’s eyes lit up in excitement. “yes! they’ll be so happy. i miss uncle jarvy,” she said with a little pout.
“he sure misses you too, baby.”
and with a plate of freshly baked cookies in hand, the three of you headed to the rink, just as morning skate wrapped up.
Hey y'all! I truly, from the bottom of my heart, miss you angels so much. My gratitude for y'all's patience is so beyond what I can describe, but I truly do appreciate it. This piece will hopefully be a part of a larger piece for Pyotr Kochetkov of the Carolina Hurricanes, and it's all I can muster up at the moment among my busy life. I hope you all enjoy this fic, and remember to take care of yourself!
Pairing: Pyotr Kochetkov x F!Reader
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: Verbal abuse (not by Pyotr), Threats of physical harm (not by Pyotr), not that proofread, (let me know if I need to add anything)
—
—
Her vision blurred, tears lingering on her eyes for far too long as she packed her leather bag, stuffing it frantically with some of her clothes and her most important belongings. As she blinked, they seemed to run down her cheeks, all warm despite the bitter air outside.
It was her fifth winter here in this cabin, living with her arranged fiance who had yet to wed her properly, and yet he expected much of her despite it all. The burden on her back started to wear on her, and she felt it deep within her bones with each ache and each movement. Her decision was deemed cowardly and selfish by many, but she knew that she would rather be selfish than be buried out in the woods alone with no one to remember her name.
Eyes darting towards the door, she bit on her lip nervously as she held back a sob, wiping her eyes with the back of her gloved hand. Closing up the bag, she opened the window, letting the cold winter air rush in as it kissed her softly, like a soldier going off to war.
It was late at night, and yet she wasn’t the only one awake at this hour—the pounding on the door signaling her fate if she didn’t move quickly.
Pushing herself out of the cabin, she fell out with a huff, landing in the freshly fallen snow with minimal noise. The coat of caribou around her neck and shoulders guarded her from the northern harshness, harnessing her warmth for a little longer-while as she ran through the dark, boots crunching the snow beneath her.
She clutched onto her bag tightly, holding it against her chest as she ran, not glancing back once. If she heard something, she only ran faster, vision trained ahead of her with each stomp of her feet in the quiet.
Each pine and spruce tree passed by her, blurring into the nighttime sky as her legs led the way, her mind still racing on its own somewhere else. Her heart seemed to run like a beast, thumping from her chest to her skull madly, her breath rough and haggard.
When she made it to her destination, she ran up to the front door to knock, but her clenched fist hesitated, only hovering over the door as she held her breath.
It was almost as if he was waiting for her, the door swinging open as she fell into his embrace, tears falling from her cheeks.
“Pyotr! Pyotr, I’m sorry—”
He hushed her, his strong hand holding her head with softness, pulling her away from the grasp of the season and into his home. “Rest. You can rest now.” His hands made steady work of her heavy coat, quickly pulling a blanket over her to contain what was of her heat as she sat down on the rug, her own hands attempting to pull the blanket closer.
He wore his own coat made of animal, thick and heavy on his own broad shoulders, providing ample warmth for his own standards, but he knew that it wasn’t enough for her.
Making his way over to the fireplace, he threw in some lumber to start a fire for her—knowing that her warmth and comfort was a much higher priority than his own—the flames crackling and spitting flecks of gold and amber outwards once it was ignited.
Pyotr had been an acquaintance of her for a decade, their first five years of their interactions being at the market where he sold the lumber he had gathered. He never sold for high price, only enough to equal his labor for the people in town. A strong man of mid-twenties, he remained celibate for the majority of his life—if not, the entirety of it—but he had moved out from his parents’ homestead once his sister had found a husband herself. His name drifted amongst the townspeople, but not much was known about him since he rather had a tight lip and kept to himself.
Hunching over, he rested a hand on her shoulder as he searched her face carefully. “Do you want some beef borscht? I have some left over from this evening, and I’ll heat it up, no hassle,”
“No.” She moved her glance to the ground away from him, shaking her head slightly. “No thank you, Pyotr, but that is nice of you.” The thought of eating made her slightly nauseous, thinking back to earlier that evening when she sat with her fiance at the table—his shouts of anger echoing through the cabin.
It was a curse that the house was so far out from the town, away from everyone else and guarded by the trees that stood tall. There weren’t any bruises she had to hide, but the night he threw his axe into the wall amidst an argument, she knew that staying only meant her life would be in his hands.
Pyotr stood there, humming at her response, allowing himself to be gentle towards her. He didn’t know of her situation, but when she stopped by his stall in town to pick up more lumber—each time less frequent than the last—her eyes seemed to grow more tired with each visit, even with her soft upturned smile. Eventually, he stopped seeing her stop by completely, and the whispers around town about her whereabouts grew more frequent.
Some words were similar to the fairy tales told to children, with her running off to live in the countryside with her fiance happily ever after in a lovebound marriage—while other whispers were tainted, lies about her seeing another man in secret, betraying her fiance.
Pyotr never allowed his mind to believe anything the townsfolk said, but his heart had a twinge of dull pain each time she was mentioned. He worried for her, for her well-being, for her own existence as a person.
He watched her sit in front of the fire, a dark silhouette, from his bed in a room offside, his gaze alert despite how heavy his eyelids felt. He didn’t want to go to sleep though, not with her in his home, under his roof. If something were to happen to her, he wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt that would eat him alive.
“Please get some rest, Pyotr,” she sighed. “Don’t let me keep you up.” She looked at him, her own eyes exhausted and tired, limbs on the verge of giving out despite resting.
“I can’t rest knowing you’re going to be on the ground—” Standing up from his bed, he walked over to her, wooden floorboards creaking with each step. “You are a guest under my roof, and I don’t have a guest room,” he sighed, feeling like he wasn’t offering enough. “So please, take the bed.”
She had no reason to deny his offer, beyond the fact that she simply just felt like she did not want to intrude into his life again so suddenly. Getting up from the ground, she brushed the pleat of her skirt lightly with her palm, nodding gratefully.
“Thank you, Pyotr.” Swallowing, her feeble attempt at fixing her rough voice was no use, and her throat felt scratchy and off, having overexerted herself while running. “Is there anything I can do to pay you back?” As she sat down on his bed, she pulled the blanket tighter around her frame, slouching slightly as she shut her eyes.
“Rest.” His own voice wasn’t smooth either, rough like pine bark, worry evident through his tone.
Something felt off about the atmosphere, beyond the unfavorable weather. His skin had goosebumps, and he eyed the door wearily from the chair near the dining area, breath unsteady.
As the home fell silent, he could hear the slight crunch of snow outside, faint—yet evident—footsteps of another person, a grown man of nearly his size. The door seemed to shake violently as the other person knocked with force, a rather intimidating tone for some.
Pyotr rose up from his seat, his own footsteps creaking rather loudly as well. “Who is there?”
Opening the door, he was face-to-face with a man who looked rather distraught with bloodshot eyes—his coat on oddly, boots unbuckled, and his hat was lopsided as he stumbled on his own feet in front of him.
“Greetings, Pyotr! Long time no see my old friend,” he rushed, words blurred and nearly incoherent as Pytor simply nodded with a tight-lipped expression. “Have you happened to hear someone running around in this area? Maybe a woman of sorts, crazed and lying about where she’s supposed to be?”
Scrunching his face, he shook his head as he crossed his arms across his chest. “No, I have not heard.”
It was evident that the other man doubted Pyotr as he glanced around his home, searching for any sign of another person in his home. “Are you wed?”
“No. And I am not seeing anyone either if that is what you are asking.”
The man looked at him suspiciously, and Pyotr could tell that he was getting irritated.
“Whose boots are those?” He pointed to the pair sitting near the fireplace, the boots of his own fiancee.
Pyotr looked over, seeing the boots that were drying from the wet snow. “My sister Katerina left her boots here as she visited me yesterday, but she left with her husband early this evening.”
“And why was she here—?”
“My mother is gravely ill—pinned down to her own bed as her husband lies dead and buried outside of their home.” He spoke in a rather aggressive tone, but not yet shouting. “What much more do I have to say to prove my innocence to you?”
The other man stood there, mouth slightly agape as he realized his fault. “I am, truly sorry, Pyotr—”
“Your apology means nothing. You came here in the night, acting like you have authority over my own roof, interrogating me, and now you seek forgiveness from me.”
Nodding, he left with his head down in shame away from Pyotr’s home, and the door was closed shut, pushing away the biting winter air.
Her footsteps sounded as she shuffled her way out of his bedroom, eyes wide as she glanced towards the door with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
“I heard shouting, are you alright?” she asked worriedly. “Was he here?”
His own expression remained stone, but she could tell he had a discomforting amount of anger boiling within. “He was a fool to show up and ask such questions,” he huffed. “Go back to sleep, heaven knows you need it more than I.”
Nodding, she ushered herself back into the bed in his room, clutching the blanket around herself as she lay down for the night, eyelids carrying the weight of her journey as she fell asleep.
When she woke up, sitting upon the bed, the cabin was quiet, only the sounds of wildlife croaking in the early morning among the woods present. She found her coat neatly folded on a chair in the living area, with Pyotr sitting on the bench facing the front door, arms folded across his chest as he breathed deeply, eyes softly shut as he slept.
His boots were still on, most likely from the confrontation that previous night, as well as his coat, but his hat was tossed aside on a table, hair messy in all sorts of directions.
In the kitchen area, she found the leftovers from the night before, along with some unused vegetables and grains. Grabbing a small pot, she settled on making some porridge—something warm and filling to thank Pyotr for allowing her a place to stay for the night. She sliced up an apple that she had brought along the day before in her bag, as well as a piece of bread that she had baked on her own, plating those things alongside the porridge.
As she set down the plates onto the table, Pyotr seemed to spring awake, looking around all alert as he stood up quickly.
“I’m so sorry—I did not mean to fall asleep, milaya—”
Shaking her head, she simply smiled, not noticing the nickname he accidentally slipped. “Do not apologize, Pyotr. I just wanted to thank you for allowing me to stay for the night.”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, observing her face with detail before he sat down at the table, preparing to eat his breakfast. “Did you sleep alright?”
“I slept fine, and hopefully you did as well,” she hummed, pulling a chair for herself at the table. “I apologize, but I couldn’t find the butter and I don’t seem to have any with me in my belongings.”
“The bread is lovely,” he chuckled, cheeks fuller as he smiled. “No need for any butter or preserves.”
All she could do was nod, smiling as she ate her own portion of breakfast, settled in her own thoughts, wondering what to do now that she had run off from her—now no longer—soon-to-be-husband. She couldn’t go back, but going into the town was another risk as well, and her options felt limited.
“You don’t seem to enjoy chatter much,” he acknowledged, shooing the silence away.
Swallowing, she hummed. “I like it that way, it’s comforting.” Only a few simple words, but Pyotr understood her vulnerability as if they were his own boots on his feet.
“Me too.” As much as he enjoyed the sound of her speaking, he wanted her to feel comfortable, not for him, but for herself.
Slowly, the silence eased back into the kitchen as they had their breakfast, only small glances exchanged from here to there in brief moments in the sunlight that passed through the smaller windows near the ceiling.
A/N: this could get 2 likes and I couldn't care I'm so excited for ts 🥹🥹🙏🙏 also don't worry guys qh43 is only in here to be an asshole it's not centered around him 🤞
You'd waited at the restaurant for Quinn an extra twenty minutes after he said he'd meet you there. It shouldn't have been a big deal, it normally wouldn't have been. But today was your one year anniversary. You thought that maybe, if there was any day he'd try harder to be there, it'd be today.
He practically bursts into the restaurant, freezing as almost everyone stops eating to look at him. He mutters out a quick apology before looking around until he finds you, his eyes hardening as he sees your eyes don't soften like they usually do when you see him.
He explains that you're already here waiting for him when the hostess asks if he has a reservation, but you don't miss how he looks her up and down, as if checking her out right in front of you.
You sigh into your glass of wine, looking down at the bread sticks they gave you when you walked in, the waiter handed them to you with an apologetic smile as he noticed the seat across from you was empty, but had a plate and silverware beside it, obviously for someone else. A late someone else.
"I'm sorry, practice ran late, and- there was... traffic." Quinn says the second he sits down across from you. You glance up, nodding slightly as you hum, "It's okay, It was only twenty minutes. Could've been an hour like it was last week." You forgive, but not without reminding him what a piece of shit he's been recently.
"That's not fair. You know I was getting PT." He snaps, as if he has the right to get offended. You let out a sigh, shaking your head, "Yeah, 'm sorry." You apologize quietly,
You don't bring it up again, you let the waiter take your order, you let Quinn hold your hand over the table, giving you a reassuring smile. You choose to ignore the way you can faintly smell lavender perfume, you choose to believe maybe one of his teammates use lavender deodorant or something. You honestly don't know anymore, you're running out of excuses.
As the two of you finish your food, he doesn't take the bill immediately, he glances up at you first, only reaching for it when you cock an eyebrow, like you were daring him to make you pay for a meal he was late to.
The car ride to your place was silent, he doesn't even give you the comfort of his hand on your thigh, what used to be a given every single time you rode with him.
He hesitates as you open your door, "Do you need me to come in?" He asks, and the look in his eyes says he hopes you say no.
You're not one to inconvenience.
"Oh, no, it's alright. I'll probably just be on my phone for a while or something 'n then go to bed." You nod, ducking back into the car to lean over the console and kiss his cheek, "Goodnight, Quinn." You mumble, shutting the door before you can hear his response.
You type out your anniversary post you know everyone was expecting, your fans had always been too noticing to forget, already having posted questions and starting rumors as the day almost ends and you hadn't said anything.
You fall asleep almost the second you climb into your bed that feels bigger and colder tonight than it usually does.
yourusername: posted 1 hour ago
♫: Watching Him Fade Away - Mac DeMarco
yourusername: 1 year with my love!
TAGGED: _quinnhughes
liked by jackhughes, lhughes_06, sabrinacarpenter, rolemodel, and 473,094 others
COMMENTS...
lhughes_06: This is a very cool post 🙏
yourusername: You are a very cool kid!
fan7382: No qh comment or like yet is crazy
sabrinacarpenter: Somewhere in northern italy ahh
yourusername: Bitch call me by your name and I'll call you by mine hoe
_quinnhughes: ❤️
fan82: I hate his chopped ass queen please break up with him
yoursister: Cute! 💌
liked by yourusername
VIEW 16,628 OTHER COMMENTS...
deuxmoi: posted 30 minutes ago
deuxmoi: NHL star Quinn Hughes spotted with a mystery girl on the 1 year anniversary with his girlfriend, @yourusername, a singer and songwriter, the two have been public since June of last year.
TAGGED: _quinnhughes and yourusername
liked by fan839, fan52717 and 31,749 others
COMMENTS...
fan2549: Kill him atp...
fan880: He's too ugly to be whoring around I'm sorry
fan274: On their one year 😐 holy asshole
fan6279: I tried to send in something about a week ago, after the Wild played in Dallas istg I saw him and a few other players at a bar and watched him leave with a random girl, couldn't have been older than 19
fan73996: What the fuck ????
VIEW 9,738 OTHER COMMENTS...
yourusername posted on their story...
♫: Punisher - Phoebe Bridgers
REPLIES:
sabrinacarpenter: oh my love I'm so so so sorry
clairo: It's probably too early to say I thought he was fugly anyway he looks inbred
fan8391: .... but da break-up album will be fye ☺️
