I Didn’t See That There Was More After The Texts And Was Like “damn I’ll Ask For A Pt. 2” AND

I think I speak for a lot of people when I say this:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

why are all bucky barnes fics tagged sebastian stan x reader. i hate it. sometimes i don’t wanna read that!! i wanna read sebastian stan and i hate it and it’s so annoying

Why is it so hard for people to use tags correctly??

Why are you tagging your fics with character x oc as character x reader it’s so god damn annoying! I’m not gonna read your fic just bc you used the tag!! If I wanted to read about character x oc I would go in that tag to find it.

It’s really not that hard to tag things correctly so please do that. It’s so hard to find the fics you want to read when the tag used to find them are filled with fics that has nothing to do with it.

This also gos for when you tag A x B when the fic isn’t about those characters.

not in that way (part one)

bucky barnes x fwb!reader

content: steve rogers is your best friend, which means that inherently bucky should be yours too. somewhere along the way, it became more than that for you. for bucky, it's just tolerance. he likes you, but not like that. not in that way.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, protected sex (yeah wrap that up), rough, choking, fwb, mean bucky, mutual pining, not proofread

notes: thank you guys for the support on the snippet as well as for waiting for me as i got this done! i just finished finals so i plan on locking in on this one and circuit breaker bc i cannot stop thinking about them.

ps. i swear bucky and reader are friends, just had to hit the angst and give some background but there will be cute moments along with smut probably every chapter...I'm hoeing out.

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　 。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

“Steve?” You called out to him, steps pounding behind you as you hurriedly moved toward his pinged location. “Steve, oh my god.” Your voice trailed off, shock evident. 

People brushed by you and pushed toward Steve’s figure on the ground. You’d never seen him like this. Sure, Steve Rogers was a super soldier and the most physically strong man you knew—but this was different. Mentally, he seemed destroyed. 

He called your phone, short of breath and muttering for help. It immediately sent you into action. You were normal—the most civilian anyone could be. There was no other option but to call someone, plead with them to find and help your friend. He’d been washed up on the shore, lying in the dirt and clearly out of it. 

You watched him get worked on, staring into the distance. 

“What happened?” You kneeled next to him,  “Who did this?” 

Steve turned to you, eyes glossed over in disbelief. “Bucky.” He shook his head, “It was Bucky.” He kept repeating it to himself, attempting to convince his own mind that it was true. “It was him. It was Bucky. He was here.” 

“I don’t understand,” you grasped his shoulder. “I thought he was gone—you saw.” You gulped, searching his face for any hesitance. “You said he fell, that he-“

“It was him.” 

“Okay.” You nodded, “Okay, I believe you. He was here.” 

It was true. The man you’d heard so many stories about had returned. He wasn’t like the anecdotes Steve recalled; this Bucky was darker, more quiet, resigned. 

He was an observer. You often caught him staring at you, eyes lingering between your figure and Steve’s. Bucky would always stand, tucked into a corner. He didn’t feel deserving of the warmth Steve offered—the humanity that remained present in you. There were times, then, that you would offer a welcoming hand. A slight wave of motion offered him a seat, acknowledging that he did deserve to be there. He felt human with you. 

That’s what initially drew Bucky to you and inevitably why you became friends, too. There was a way that you loved everyone, insisted on not leaving them out and nourished their insides. 

The hurt came when he realized it would never be that way for him.

You could never love him, not a monster. Not when the shining emblem of a perfect man sat beside you every day. Steve had so much time with you—he was your best friend. Bucky couldn’t replace him, not if he tried. So he always kept you at arms length, hoping to be more than friends but settling for something less. 

The first time it happened, when Bucky had been so lucky to have a moment with you—he swore that he was dreaming. He never gave you a reason to like him, in fact, it was the opposite. He’d gone out of his way every day to push you further from him, make it known that he’d never be as good as Steve. 

He could tell you saw something different; he hated it. 

The three of you had tried small talk often, Steve facilitating some sort of discussion to break the ice. It almost always ended with you and Bucky exactly where you started, friends who were forced to be so because of a mutual one.

“Well, I’m headed out—you two should talk.”

“Steve, no-“ 

“Buck, you two are my favorite people in the world. I would love it if you gave this a chance.” Steve patted his friend’s shoulder, “For me. Please.” 

Bucky turned to look at Steve, a solid expression on his face. He didn’t speak, just gave him a small nod and let Steve step around him and out of your place. 

It was common that Steve would find solace in your home. It was far from the city, neatly tucked away in a residential area. There was a sense of normalcy and he was proud to introduce that to Bucky—he needed that, deserved it after everything. 

The room was silent, violently so. You sat across from Bucky—him lingering in your peripheral and you nestled softly into your couch. He didn’t move, standing still near a wall which offered him the sight of every possible window and exit. 

“Do you wanna sit?” 

You watched his body for any reaction, dissatisfied when there was none. It was awkward, him avoiding eye contact and you not sure of what else to say. 

You sighed, “I’ll be back.” You announced your departure, not that it mattered to him. 

You beelined to the bathroom, desperately needing to escape him. He was always like this, closed off and so obviously annoyed by your presence. Splashing your face with water did little to temper you and your body seemed to overheat at the thought of having to see him again. 

You didn’t let yourself think—couldn’t. You stepped out and kept your head down before looking toward Bucky’s signature spot on the wall. He wasn’t there. 

You tilted your head down, seeing Bucky now sitting on the couch, two cushions away from where you’d been prior. He watched you smile softly, moving to sit in your spot.

Bucky made a habit of keeping his hands in his lap. He would sit stoically at all times. It was the same now. 

He avoided eye contact but muttered, “Hi.” 

Your breath hitched, surprised he’d started conversation. Keeping your tone even so as not to overwhelm him, you replied, “Hi, Bucky.” 

The both of you nodded, letting the weight of your forced proximity surround you. As much as he tried, he couldn’t ignore you. The faint smell of your hair products, the way you tapped your own leg rhythmically, how nervous you were—he noticed it all. 

“Do you, um,” you swallowed. “Do you want something to drink, maybe?” 

It’d been over a year since Bucky showed up. You, of course, shared small talk with him in that time. He’d grown to know the story of you and Steve—how you met. It would suffice to say that Bucky grew to be an acquaintance of yours—a long lost friend of a friend…one that would never truly like you. Accepting that was hard; you wanted Bucky to be comfortable at the very least. If not like you, he would at bare minimum be able to sit down for once. 

So today was a win. 

Bucky didn’t reply to your question but instead asked his own, “How was Steve? Without me, I mean?” 

His voice was gruff, and you hadn’t expected that question, let alone more than a single syllable from him. 

“Well,” you readjusted to face Bucky, “He’s always the most positive guy in the room—which I’m sure you know.”

Bucky let a smirk slip, recounting the optimism his friend had at all times. 

“He’s better than me that way, than a lot of us.” 

“I don’t think that’s true. He’s just Steve, you know that.” 

He didn’t know that. Bucky was living in his body but observing from outside his own mind. He was witnessing his friend after so much time had escaped him. Everything he thought was true wasn’t anymore. 

He wanted to get to know you, offer you the same grace that was given to him. But he couldn’t. Before it even begun Bucky was overwhelmed. He pushed himself to be kinder, to do this for Steve. It was simply futile. 

He stood suddenly and looked down at you, “I should go.” 

“Okay,” you stood, nodding. “I guess I’ll be seeing you.” 

He hummed, rolling his shoulders back and tightening his posture again. He didn’t respond. 

“I’ll tell Steve you tried today,” you whispered to him. “I know he’ll appreciate it. I do.” 

The tension was palpable. Your eyes stayed locked on each other until you heard a sound and looked down. The mechanical whirring of his metal arm was clear, only slightly suppressed by the gloves he always wore. He watched you noticing his hand twitch as if he wanted to move it. There was a restraint there, like he was pushing down something that was second nature. As if he meant to do something that he’d always done. 

You swallowed hard enough to hear it in your ears. Looking at Bucky, you arched your brow in a subtle defiance—daring him to do what he intended. You wanted to know him and his habits, to understand even a modicum of what was in his brain. 

Without thinking a second more, he let his left arm lift a bit. He reached toward your face but paused at you flinching, leaning away from him. 

Just barely audible, you spoke, “Sorry.” 

Bucky blinked and furrowed his brows, unable to stop himself. He let his fingers wrap around your face, a single hand pressing just under your chin and at the top of your throat. Slightly wide eyed, you watched him watching you. Most of his hand rested on your cheek, his thumb pressing into the other side of your face. 

Despite no longer being the Winter Soldier, his habits lingered. When in that state he remembered being like this so vividly—a hand around someone’s throat and crushing the life out of them. He hissed at the thought, not at all intending for that with you. He craned your head, though, observing the quizzical look on your face. 

It didn’t make sense to him, the need to maintain this routine. But he did. Beyond the haze of what was once his signature way of taking life—he saw a new one. Bucky could envision his future so clearly, yet he couldn’t let himself have it. 

He went to drop his hand but stopped at the feeling of yours on his wrist. It was inexplicable. Glove or not, you craved the contact from him. 

The room stayed silent except for the slight creak of the floorboards beneath you. While Bucky stayed steady, you teetered on the balls of your feet—this moment feeling fleeting. 

He inched forward, watching your eyes fall closed. 

Your lips were right there, the ones he’d openly been ogling at for months. It was torture, but all he knew. He couldn't allow himself the satisfaction of the feeling. He wasn’t deserving. 

Instead, he latched onto your neck. Bucky kissed and nibbled there with an urgency you hadn’t expected—hell, you didn’t even think today would’ve progressed to this at all. 

The feeling of him on you was intoxicating, and it was so minuscule. His hands were all over you, and yours on him. Your breath came out ragged, “We shouldn’t.” 

“You’re right.” He paused on your neck briefly, directly in your ear now. “We shouldn’t.” 

“We’re friends.” You nodded, letting your hands trail up his back and into his hair. 

“Are we?”

You weren’t sure. It was complicated. You couldn’t let yourself think about that now and neither could he. 

He pushed you down onto the couch and stood above you, allowing you to finally look him over. He was casually in jeans and a t-shirt, the rest of his body entirely covered. The only skin that showed besides his face was just below at his neck. Around it lied his dog tags that he was so adamant about wearing. The glint of them always caught your eye and alerted you of his presence. Even when he showed up silent, you’d see him and those damn tags. Just always out of your eyeline but in the room—that was who Bucky had always been. In his stoicism he was still consistently there.

Watching Bucky undo his pants already had you eager for him, too. There was always something there for you, an intrigue simply at the way he carried himself. You stayed seated, leaning back a bit in an attempt to slide down your sweatpants. Both of you watched the other discarding the bottom half of their clothes with little thought, tossing them aside. 

He leaned, then, ruffling into his dark jacket’s interior. 

“I got it,” he mumbled, ripping into the condom wrapper with his teeth. He slid the latex over himself just before pushing the jacket off his back. 

He kneeled into the couch, the angle awkward but enough that he was able to slide into you like he wanted. It was tight—rough. You expected the burn but still sucked in a breath at it, the lack of prep. Bucky didn’t mean to make it this way but just wanted it to be over—the insatiable need to pump in and out of you. Only you.

Slowly and deliberately he continued to kiss around your neck, collarbone, and ears. He snapped into you, purposely moving at a speed that allowed him to chase a high rather than savor the moment with you. He wanted to, truly…to acknowledge the way you looked up at him. It was his dream to let the sounds of you falling apart actually hit his ears and mean something—but he couldn’t. 

The couch creaked and rocked. You were now slightly bent into the back of the cushions, your chest moving up and down alongside Bucky’s. He pulled back, stabilizing himself behind you. The new angle allowed you to see his dog tags again, them hitting you with every movement into you. Without thinking you grabbed them, hooking them under one of your fingers. 

He finally allowed himself some relief, his voice dragging out the moans he’d himself been holding in. “Fuck...” 

You watched him intently, pulling him closer by the chain on his neck. He shifted his angle a bit at that and watched your jaw drop open. Your brows furrowed, whines choking out of you at the new sensation. It made you let go of his tags, grasping at the fabric of his shirt. This made him pound into you faster—realizing a tether of intimacy was gone. 

He was subconsciously glad for that, happy that he could pinpoint and force that sweet look in your eyes away. There was no longer an adoration in your gaze but simply one of pleasure. This was for the best. He could appreciate you from a distance despite the line of friendship being crossed so carelessly now. 

“Shit,” you groaned out suddenly. “Buck-“ 

He hushed you softly, quelling the harsh sound in your throat. It only spurred him on though, truly ruthless about this. He only slowed at the feeling of your fingers gliding over his face, pushing the stray piece of hair out of view. His pace stuttered, faltering as he really looked at you. 

A second later, he started in on you again. A clothed hand found its way into your shirt and pinched at your nipples. His grip was rough, kneading your chest. You were already so close; every additional sensation only pushing you further.

You met him suddenly, writhing into him and filling the living room with lewd slapping sounds. 

Bucky huffed breaths out at every push into you. You fought a squeak, pressing your own hand over your mouth. You gnawed at it as it allowed some relief from the burning inside of you. He was hitting that same spongey spot over and over. He was so good at picking up on the subtle changes in your face and body. 

Without warning he slipped out and nudged you, “Turn.” 

You did without questioning, a firm covered hand rubbing at the skin of your hips. Regardless of his gloves, you felt the difference in his hands—the slight shift of metal in one versus the pulse in the other. There was a contrast you enjoyed, a chill about his metal arm that grounded you. 

A knee pushed your legs open as he slid into you again, this time using you as leverage. Bucky pushed you down slowly, the side of your head finding the cushion. This angle was new, deeper. It wouldn’t be much longer at this point and he could tell. One hand slipped underneath you and up to your neck again, squeezing just enough for you to appreciate the loss of breath. In between gasps you nudged further into the couch, the sensation becoming too much for you. 

He couldn’t stop when you came, relishing the way your insides continued to pulse. It was as if he was meant to stay; his one true purpose was to be completely enveloped by you. When he finished a strained sound choked in his throat, one that you hadn’t expected. 

You were throbbing still, a cold feeling finally making you realize he pulled away. The feeling of him on you had gone away so quick. The sound of a different metal clanked—his belt buckle bouncing around as he slid his pants back on. 

“Should we…should I tell Steve about this?” 

Your question was sudden, but was filled with a weight that scared him. You didn’t want to be too forward—but it was only right. Steve was now caught in the middle of something complicated. Even if this was the first and only time…you weren’t sure you could keep this from him. 

Bucky thought differently. 

“Why would you wanna tell Steve?” 

“Because it’s-“ 

“Leave him out of this.”  

Bucky readjusted his clothes, smoothing them over as they’d been before. You watched him inch his way to the door—his back toward you. 

You ignored the pang in your chest, the confusion that now resonated in you. Pushing it away, you settled on changing the subject. “Steve wanted to do something tomorrow, you coming?” 

He didn’t turn as he grabbed the doorknob, merely craned his head to the side. You watched his profile for any sense of something but again he was so unreadable for you. 

“I’ll be there.” 

Then he left. 

part two

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i’d like to say hello to the lb, first time caller long time listener and we WILL get through this together

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(n.mackinnon) — i just had sex with my ex in a new york apartment

a/n: i was sad after the mikko trade and so this happened. i finally got around to finishing it. not proofread and i wrote this entirely on my phone. do with that what you will. and welp, i don’t know what that ending was. so i hope you guys like it anyways <3

word count: +7.1k

synopsis: | based on the song sex with my ex by fletcher | the biggest trade in hockey in years has you texting your ex, something you swore you would never do. but you thought it would be harmless.

warnings: mentions of the mikko rantanen trade, smut — (oral female, unprotected!sex) cursing, accidental injury, mentions of blood, descriptions of blood & bruising

if there is anything else that needs to be tagged as a warning please let me know so i can make sure it’s tagged properly!

🚨 you are responsible for your media consumption. do not interact if you are under age.

tagging: @jostystyles @comphyjost @mrs-mikko-rantanen @krugstrash @lyds21 @davidpastrsnack @fallinallincurls @ilyasorokinn @laurenairay

—

you bit your lip as you debated sending the message. the news playing in the background of your apartment. the wine in your system telling you to do things you shouldn’t, but you wanted to.

you were in shock. the whole hockey world was in shock. what the hell were they doing?

you had already texted mikko and he had responded. despite everything that had happened between you and his friend, you remained friends with some of the guys on the team. even after your ‘traitorous’ move to new york.

you were now working for a different team. donning different colors and cheering on different guys.

which they all hated. but you had grown up in colorado, and no matter what, you wanted them all to succeed.

so you kept following them. you followed the moves of what was happening with the denver based team and tried not to think about him, but how could you not? he was the face of the goddamn team.

did he think about you?

despite talking to mel and gabe all the time, you’d never ask that question.

you’d shut him out after moving. it was best for you and in the end, it was best for him to. he went back to just focusing on hockey and forgetting what it was like to hold you, to sleep beside you.

but his nights were restless and wanting. there were bags under his eyes and he seemed tenser than usual in the weeks that followed the break up.

reporters across the league talked about it. how he was exploding on the ice, a hot head.

and you hated that you had caused it, but it wasn’t you who had led to the demise of your relationship. you had promised you weren’t gonna blame him, but you did.

you were only human.

but it didn’t matter now, things had started to settle down. and the relationship that had lasted years, was over now. and you were settled in a new city. with a new team. and you hadn’t thought about him for over a year. well, that’s a lie.

you hadn’t talked to him in over a year.

even when they made their east coast road trip and the guys insisted on seeing you, he didn’t come. and you knew why. because you wouldn’t have shown up he was there.

on the ice when you were taking pictures and conducting rink side interviews and shooting content, cale and mikko stopped by to chat before the game.

you tried to pay attention but you couldn’t, not with his eyes on you.

your breath was catching in your throat, your heart speeding up. sweat furrowing your brow.

it was like that every time you saw him.

so why the hell were you texting him now?

you definitely were blaming the wine.

i’m sorry about mikko.

that was all you said. simple. nothing more, nothing less.

a tiny dialogue. something easy.

this was the biggest thing to come out of the avs front office since…well ever.

you chewed on your bottom lip and sipped on your wine as you watched anxiously for the little dots to appear.

you practically dropped your phone on the counter when they appeared.

your heart sank when they disappeared. but then they appeared again. it happened several times.

you breathed deeply and set your phone down on the counter and ran a hand through your hair.

you paced around your apartment and looked out across the skyline. it was late at night, but the city lights were still bright.

trying to pay attention to the news playing on your tv, you stared blankly at the screen.

they were talking about the same thing you had been thinking about. the damn fucking mikko trade.

of course, there were some really shitty takes. and you expected nothing less from biz.

you huffed and chugged another sip of your red.

the phone buzzed on the counter and you almost choked as you rushed over.

the name on the phone you hadn’t seen in so long.

it fucking sucks.

wow, what a way with words, you thought. he always had a talent.

all that waiting for this. honestly, you didn’t know why you were disappointed.

you were just about to shut your phone off and go to bed, ignore what you started when your phone lit up again.

you home?

a lump formed in your throat and you had to read the message six times trying to understand it.

yes. why? are you in new york?

you waited with baited breath as the bubbles popped up on the screen again and disappeared.

ugh! you felt like screaming and throwing your phone across the room.

will be. we land in 20.

god. what do you do? oh my god. he wants to come over. for what? oh. you’re not stupid. you know what he wants to come over for.

you were just about to text back when another message popped up.

can i come over?

against your better judgment, you were texting him your address and turning your phone off.

you chugged the rest of your wine before pouring yourself another huge glass.

you felt frantic as you looked around your place. it was decently clean. should you pick up before he comes?

no. god no, you should shower. most definitely shower before he gets here.

what were you doing? you asked yourself as you made your way to the shower.

the shower wasn’t comforting as you frantically scrubbed yourself clean and tried to blow dry your hair so it wasn’t soaking wet when he got here.

you drank more wine as you stand in front of your dresser debating what to put on. you knew him so well. would it be obvious if you put on one of his favorites? would that say something to him? would he read into it?

the wine was clouding your mind. you weren’t thinking clearly as you slipped the white lace over your skin.

you checked your phone for messages. there were none, so you made your way to your closet and searched for something you hadn’t thought about in ages.

although, it was still your favorite piece of clothing. and you’d never give it back to him.

even if he asked.

though, he never would. and you knew he never would.

he liked seeing you in it too much. the day you walked out wearing it was one of the worst days of his life.

you held it close to you, staring at your reflection in the mirror. because what were you doing?

here you were…in your new city. putting on his favorite set, putting on his shirt. inviting him into your safe space for what? to have sex? was it harmless? fuck no. you knew it wouldn’t be.

but as you thought about him. the broadness of his shoulders, the crook of his nose and how it felt buried in your cunt, you were throwing on the old fabric.

you debated more wine, but anymore and you’d probably throw up so you decided on some water. water with some liquid iv. you hated the taste. it was definitely not as fun as what you had just been drinking, but you were not about to miss out on what you had basically invited to your place.

your skin was crawling as you crossed your legs in anticipation and stared out the window.

when your intercom buzzed you fell off the couch. you hit the floor with a thud and you scrambled off the ground rushing to it.

“who is it?” you asked hitting the button. you knew damn well who it was.

there was a huff of annoyance and god you hated what it did to you.

“it’s me.” his voice. god his voice. you hadn’t heard it in person in so long. only just what had played on your tv or over your phone.

you felt weak in the knees as your shaky finger buzzed him in.

the minutes that took him to climb the stairs to your fifth floor apartment felt like hours.

you were slumped against the door practically panting.

how were you still this down bad for him? you swear it hadn’t been this way. you felt strangely pathetic and euphoric at the same time.

when there was a knock on the door, you jumped out of your skin.

you turned on your heels and stared at the door knob. you were trying to calm your breathing and get your hand to stop shaking so bad.

“y/n.”

your eyes fluttered shutter when he called his name and in a trance, you opened the door for him.

“nate.” you breathed.

his breath hitched in his throat as the door swung open. the sound of his name on your lips was heavenly to him.

you were standing there, cheeks flushed. no doubt from wine. he wasn’t stupid, nate knew what had driven the text to him. your hair damp and tossed to the side.

his eyes trailed down, landing on the hoodie you were wearing. his hoodie.

his number on the arm and his team’s logo on the front. no doubt his name still on the back.

nate groaned low.

but you still heard it and it went straight to your core.

your legs were bare.

“hi.” you said breathlessly.

“hey.” nate responded and pushed his way into the apartment.

you stepped aside to accommodate his size.

nate kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his coat. he dropped it on top of his sneakers.

“you know, i have a coat rack.” you said.

“i know.” nate replied and glanced towards the door.

you rolled your eyes and picked up his coat.

hanging it up next to yours, nate watched you. secretly, he wanted to see you do that. all this time, he longed to see his coat next to yours like it had been for all of that time.

truth be told, when you texted him. he wasn’t all that shocked. the mikko news was everywhere and he knew it would reach you. that it would bring you back to him.

but he had no idea that it would bring him here. to your new york apartment on the eve of a game after they just to lost boston.

when they got to the hotel and he was checking into his room with cale and immediately leaving after final call, cale was concerned.

all he said was your name and cale understood what that meant and shut his mouth before rolling back over in his own bed.

nate made his way down the back stairs of the hotel floor and hailed a taxi. the ride to your place he was anxious. he decided against texting you on the way.

nate didn’t want to give you the chance to back out. he’d waited too long to see you, to apologize for what had happened. for not seeing you, paying enough attention. given the chance, he’d do better.

all this time, he wondered if you had a new guy. as much as he hated it and against his better judgment, he’d asked one of the players he saw you posting a lot on the team’s social to find out if you were seeing anyone.

you weren’t. and he hated that he now knew that nate was thinking about you, but it wasn’t like people didn’t know you guys had been a thing. i mean for fuck’s sake, you were standing next to him in his cup photos.

tonight, nate was gonna talk to you. after losing mikko, fuck it. he needed to air everything out.

but when you opened the door and you were standing there in his clothes, his thoughts darkened and everything went out the window.

all he could see was his cock sliding in and out of you and he knew you had been thinking the same thing.

“i hate this.” nate had been taking in the contents of your apartment, the decorations. he’d seen most of them before. you hadn’t changed. but there were new things.

the blue shirt with the new lettering and new team logo.

he picked up the shirt and it looked small in his hand like a rag as he waved it at you.

“nathan.” you said.

“what?”

“it’s where i work.”

“i know. it doesn’t mean i have to like it.”

“nate—“ you started but nathan tossed the fabric to the floor and suddenly he was in your space. backing you against the kitchen island.

“why’d you put that on?” nate asked. his tone was dark and his voice low.

his hands were resting on the countertop, your body trapped between his strong arms.

your breath was caught in your throat and you felt like you were choking on your heartbeat as you tried to speak.

before, when you had put it on…you felt so bold. so brazen, but now. here, under his gaze. you felt small. and oddly his.

although he hadn’t touched you in a year, but the both of you knew that didn’t matter. you were always his. and always would be.

“what do you mean?” you finally squeaked out. you tried to sound as normal as possible, but you knew you sounded like a mouse.

nate chuckled and you resisted the urge to crumble.

“did you put it on for me? or do you wear it all the time?” nate whispered, his lips brushing slightly over the exposed skin of your skin as he dipped his head.

oh. you moaned soft and inaudible, but nate knew you, he knew your body and he knew what his presence in your tiny was doing.

just like you knew without looking down, without feeling him, what you were doing to him.

his hands left the counter and they reached for the hem of the sweatshirt.

nate tugged at one of the lose threads. there was a slight ripping sound.

your stomach lurched.

“don’t.” it felt as if your heart was being ripped with that seam. it reminded you of that year ago when everything happened. you still hadn’t healed. you had just put a bandage over everything and moved on because you wanted him. you wanted him to fix it all, but you didn’t give him that chance because you just packed up your shit and took a new job with a new team and moved to a new city.

“i’ll give you a new one.” nate whispered. his lips closer to you this time. they were hovering over yours and you felt drunker than you had before.

desperate for him. to taste him after the longest year of your life.

“promise?” you questioned. your eyes fluttered opened and to your surprise, nate was staring at you with his big blue eyes. they were cloudy and stormy. a hint of lust in them, but something you couldn’t put a name on.

“promise.” nate nodded and as the words left his mouth, you felt whole again.

you knew you’d regret it because how could this be harmless? but you threw your arms around his neck and breathed him in.

his lips were warm and rough. slightly chapped from the cold air. nate tasted like mint and maple. you smiled to yourself. he was still using that chapstick you’d found in a market back home with him.

when you’d left, the first time nate went home, he was there with sid and saw the booth again. he bought the entire inventory. it was stupid and sidney made fun of him for it, but the older forward understood. nathan was trying to hold onto any piece of you he could.

and that damn lip balm you loved so dearly was something he carried with him always. tucked away in his pocket, his suitcase, and his hockey bag.

nate was falling into you, his arms sliding around you. his body pushing your ass into the edge of the countertop.

you gasped into him and nathan was sliding his tongue into your mouth.

his hands gripped your ass and halted you onto the countertop in one motion before sliding underneath the comfort of his hoodie and squeezing your sides.

they were heavy and familiar on your skin. you loved the feeling. after all this time, he still felt so comfortable.

nate discarded your hoodie and dropped it to the kitchen floor. you felt a chill slide up your spine. your arms flooding with goosebumps.

before nate was throwing his head back, his eyes rolling.

he groaned loudly.

“my god.”

you smiled bashful. a pink tint painting your cheeks.

“what kind of man do you think i am, y/n?” nate asked as if the both of you didn’t know he wasn’t coming here for one thing and one thing only.

“the kind who’s gonna fuck me.” you replied.

“you’re killing me.” nate said before his hands were back on you again. exploring and touching everything he could.

his lips were more harsh this time. they weren’t soft and gentle on your lips, taking their time to memorize them again. although, he’d never forgotten. now, they were latched on to your neck and his teeth were nipping your skin. you yelped and he shushed you.

you tugged at his t-shirt and nate pulled apart from you. he was annoyed now. all he wanted was to touch you.

nate was starved and you were his meal.

nate tore his shirt from his head and threw it aggressively across the room and you watched it in surprised.

he didn’t pay attention to your surprise before he was kissing you again and his hands were cupping your ass and yanking you towards the edge of the counter.

“god i missed you. i missed this ass.” nathan said with a smack.

“nathan!” you chided.

“don’t act like you don’t love it.” nate said and kissed you again. you’d protest, but he had you there.

why did this all feel so weird? you should stop it, you thought. this was mudding the waters between the two of you, but honestly were they ever gonna be clear?

probably not. there was too much history.

so what the hell? was one night with him really the worst thing you could do?

everything in the world was going to hell. and he’d just lost one of his best friends and lost to the bruins. nate needed to let out some steam. and you were here now and with his hands on you, all you could think about was how good it was, how good he was.

and how there was no way you’d be able to walk again tomorrow and you wanted that.

nate picked you up as you were thinking. your feet touching the ground, but your weight was barely registering against the floor as nate spun you in his arms and walked towards your bedroom. his foot heavy against the door as he kicked it open.

you rolled your eyes as he tossed you on the bed. you didn’t even have a chance to scold him for it before he was crawling over you.

there was something so playful and domineering about him when you were together. it was a part of him only you got to see and god, you missed it.

nate kissed your lips before making his way down your chest. he paid extra attention to the tops of your breasts before leaning back. his hair was a mess and his pupils were blown.

nate’s chest was rising heavy and slow. you loved the sight of him.

you wanted to take a picture of nathan and place it beside your bed so you could always remember him this way.

nate’s hands were rough as he ran them along your breasts yanking at the lace and there was that ripping sound again.

“nathan!” you snapped. nate shrugged before doing the exact same thing to the matching underwear. you were completely bare now except for the leftover strands of white lace clinging for dear life.

“what?” nate shrugged.

“i can’t believe you.” you grumbled. you were so annoyed with him, but you were so wet for him. only him. which he knew.

nate looked at you smugly.

“yes, you can, y/n.” nate started, his hands rubbing circles in the tops of yours thighs as he planted both your legs on either side of his body. “which is why you wore it.”

a lump formed in your throat and as you laid there, bare chested in front of your ex boyfriend you had never felt more naked.

nathan had a way of being able to see you more than anybody else in every single way.

his hands were warm and heavy on your skin. nate’s skin was rough from all the years he spent stick handling and firing at the back of the net.

the sensation caused the hair to stand up on the back of your neck.

you gasped and bit your lip trying to be quiet, but nathan’s eyes darkened.

you didn’t even have to wait for him to explain, you knew exactly what he meant. there was no communication that had to be passed between the two of you.

that’s what happens when you spend years studying each other’s bodies.

and his was magnificent.

it was shameful how often you’d picture him after leaving, after you had to go. because you should have left the memory of him in his house, in your shared house.

but you didn’t.

there were nights when your hand would sneak lower and you’d chase a high, but nothing was as good as his fingers, his touch.

nate ruined you.

he ruined you. he’d stolen moments from you and parts of your happiness, he’d stolen countless orgasms in the months to come. but your therapist said part of you did that too.

but it was easier for you to blame it all on him. which is why you didn’t reach out till now.

and your body was teetering in anticipation. it was like every single nerve in your body was a single match waiting to be lit.

nathan’s lips pursed as he kissed the soft skin of your navel.

his bottom lip jutting out and dragging a wet stripe with it.

you moaned in response and you tried to stifle it. nathan growled against you. a warning.

his fingers dug into your hips as his weight shifted the bed while he settled between your thighs.

you were watching his movements with baited breath, your chest still.

your eyes glazed over as he placed a soft kiss on the outer lips of your pussy before delving into you like a starved man.

you shuddered as he instantly found that bundle of nerves and his nose swiped against it. god. it was like a dream.

he breathed deep, taking you in, as he licked and kissed your clit.

nate’s mouth was moving in long strokes. moans we’re steadily coming from your lips and they were nathan’s favorite album.

nate pulled back his tongue disappearing from you briefly as his teeth scraped the bundle of nerves and you gasped in shock, in anguish as it startled you.

the fire was starting everywhere on your body, the matches lighting each other.

your pelvis arched off the bed as you begged for more.

nathan’s fingers kept digging into your hips as hard as he could and his pelvis was rutting against the edge of the bed for any sort of relief from the agonizing ache he felt in his dick.

nate’s tongue circled your hole before swiping upwards and finding your clit again. abruptly, two of his fingers were entering you, stretching you and your eyes grew wide as he did so.

you were louder now. your cheeks painted red and sweat forming on your chest.

nathan itched to reach up and touch your breast, but his fingers were deliciously digging into the top of your ass and he couldn’t wait to see what it looked like in the morning.

if he was still here, and he hoped he would be. nathan desperately hoped that you would let him stay the night.

he was love sick and he’d didn’t get care if everyone knew it at this point because he only wanted you knew.

having sex with his ex in a new york apartment was not going to be harmless and he knew that. but he’d gladly take a puck to the face from shea weber if it meant somehow getting you back.

and maybe you wouldn’t take him back, but he’d have this one night. to keep him company on his lonely nights on the road and at home.

“oh. nate.” you moaned and he continued eating you out like it was his last meal because it was in so many ways.

it was the last meal he wished he’d gotten before you had rightfully so walked out his life.

nate’s tongue flicked against your clit fast and rough as his fingers pumped in and out of you in tandem.

you were a mess above him, screaming his name as the fire came to a full blaze.

the word ‘nathan’ was no longer bitter on your tongue as you screamed his name, crashing like waves extinguishing the fire inside you.

the waves crashed into you so hard, you were panting gasping for air. there was pleasure written all over your face and your eyes were stormy.

nate didn’t let up though. he continued kissing, sucking, and licking. he loved tasting you.

“nate.” you whispered, it was barely audible. your voice stuck in your throat.

nate pulled his mouth from you with a smack and his fingers slid out of you slowly.

you whimpered at the loss of contact and nate finally released the one hand that was holding a vice grip on your hip bone.

nate crawled upwards till he was leaning back on his heels again.

he was unfairly wearing more clothes than you.

nate’s eyes were glazed over just like yours and his movements felt not his own like he was drunk as he brought his fingers up to his lips and sucked.

he moaned as he cleaned you off him. his breath deep and as nathan memorized all the details.

you could’ve come right there again at the sight of him.

“nate.” you whispered.

“shush, baby.” nathan said, “i know.”

and you melted. nathan stepped off the bed and his knees almost buckled out underneath him.

he prayed to god you didn’t notice, but you did.

because you were also committing everything about this night to memory. a memory that would be burned into your brain forever.

“nathan mackinnon.”

“yes?” nate cocked his head.

you lulled your head to the side so you could take him in. the sheen of sweat on his toned chest, the smooth curve of his biceps, and the crook of his nose. your eyes trailed downwards towards his waist wear his jeans hung low and the calvin klein logo was practically embedded into his skin.

you wanted to peel them off of him with your teeth.

“y/n.”

you kept staring at him, your eyes fixated there as you imagined it, watching him come undone underneath your touch.

“mmm?” you asked.

nate chuckled darkly.

“like what you see?”

your cheeks felt hot.

“fuck yeah.”

“i know.” nathan replied.

you rolled your eyes, but you still reached out to touch because you couldn’t resist him.

“ah ah.” nathan took a step away from you. his knees were still weak, but he couldn’t give into you like this because he wouldn’t last more than a second and he wanted this. no, he needed this.

he’d been thinking about this for ages.

you were his remedy.

“nate.” you whined like a brat. his brat.

nate unbuttoned his jeans and kicked himself out of his pants.

your eyes immediately took to the black underwear clad against his skin.

his thighs rock solid, his ass perfectly sculpted as he slid the fabric off too.

you were practically drooling as his cock sprung free and slapped against his stomach.

nate’s tip was enlarged and red. nate was throbbing as he stalked towards you.

“i missed you.” nate said as he climbed back onto your bed. his legs on either side of your body.

“i missed you.” you replied. a moment of vulnerability between the two of you as locked eyes.

“especially your superstar dick.” you said after a few moments of silence.

“of course you’d say that, y/n.” nathan laughed light heartedly. his smile reaching his eyes. you hadn’t seen them do that in forever.

“what? it’s true.” you shrugged.

nate shook his head and kissed you, deeply.

his hands roaming all over you as he swallowed your breaths and moans.

your fingers tugged at his hair strands and nails scrapped down his back.

nate’s dick was resting hard between your thighs, prodding near where you needed it most.

you tried to hook your leg over his, a move he knew all too well, but he wasn’t gonna let it happen tonight because if you did, he’d be finishing inside your mouth and not where he really wanted to which he couldn’t have. not after waiting for so long.

“nate.” you muttered against his lips.

“y/n.”

“nate. let me—“

“no.” nate snapped.

“please.”

“i. won’t. make. it.” nate said in between kisses.

you nodded and relented as nate looked to you.

“i need you.” you said and nate kissed you harder.

his hands moving between the two of you. taking himself in his hand, he pumped himself a couple of times before rubbing himself through your slick.

nate smacked his tip against your swollen and worn clit.

you gasped.

lining himself up with your entrance, nate kept his eyes on yours as you watched him enter you. his hips thrust up in one motion and suddenly you were full of him.

there were twinges of pain as you adjusted to the size of him, but you were so turned on and needed to have more of him.

nate pulled out and then pushed into you roughly.

your back arched up off the mattress as he fucked into you.

nathan was above you, painted in the shadows of city light through the windows as he pulled your body closer to his. your head resting against the pillow, lulling to the side in pleasure.

your hands bunching up the sheets as nate’s hips snapped into your pelvis.

your moans and the dirty sounds of your body meeting for the first time in months were the only sounds in your apartment.

nate grunted above you as you shut your eyes and focused on that second wave of bliss.

your hand snaking down to find your clit. your thumb circling in tandem with his rough thrusts.

“god you’re so beautiful.” nathan said from above you.

you moaned.

“sprawled out like this, just for me. even after all this time. it’s just for me. wearing my set. my sweatshirt. it’s me.”

you moaned again in response.

“say it.” nate demanded.

“it’s you.” you muttered.

“speak up, y/n.” nate growled.

“it’s you!” you shouted. “it’s you, nate. it’s only you.” you were a mess underneath him practically crying as nerves began shooting all over you.

the knot was still building in your stomach, but at the same time the wave was hitting you and the sensation was too much.

your pussy’s walls fluttering around him, pulling him in harder and deeper.

nate faltered in his thrusts and let out his own moan.

and that’s what sent you over the edge.

you came with a shout of his name as he continued fucking into you chasing his own relief.

“god, i love you.” nate said as he buried himself deep inside of you, his thighs cramping as he sputtered.

the warmth of him coating your inside walls. nate’s breath was strangled as he collapsed on top of you, panting.

your eyes were wide because the realization suddenly hit you. the blissful high making you drunk, leaving your body as his statement rushed over you.

it was more raw and numbing than anything the two of you had just done in the past two hours.

god, i love you.

did he really just say that?

was it one of those things that guys just say when they get laid? no. it was never something nate said during sex.

nathan wasn’t romantic. and everyone knew it. he only said i love you every so often out loud, but you knew he did love you.

there were moments when he’d make you a cup of coffee and leave it for you by bed before sneaking out for early morning skate.

or when he’d listen to your favorite music over and over again despite not loving it.

nathan would frequent a local book store and constantly book out a new book for you to read and tell him every thing about.

or how he would sit and listen to all your work presentations for hours despite not knowing anything about the specialization you were in, but he’d support you no matter what.

those were moments when he showed his love the most.

the downfall was that as the seasons after winning the cup got more difficult and they had early exists, his focus centered.

he forgot you. he became obsessed with trying to perfect his passes and face offs. dragging himself to practice hours before everyone else and coming home later than everyone else.

nights making dinner for him and then you’d sit for hours waiting as he stayed at the rink obsessively skating and watching tape.

it got bad again. you reached out to sid and he said he knew. he had been talking to him about it, but there was nothing the two of you could do. it was like last time.

and when he forgot your birthday and your anniversary it wasn’t that big of a deal to you.

but one of the biggest things coming up in your life, a memory of someone in your life you missed dearly that he never got to meet that you wished he had, you knew you’d always come second.

you hoped you were wrong. but even sid had texted you about it. and so did landy and ej.

three of his best friends remembering the day you were hurting the most and your boyfriend wasn’t.

so that’s when the job offer that had been sitting your email inbox that you dismissed instantly suddenly became enticing.

and you left.

and now you were here.

having sex with your ex in your new york apartment.

you could feel yourself a mess, obsessed with him again.

why did you think it would be harmless?

because he was your nathan.

and no matter how much time passed, he’d always be your nathan.

and you know that you’re losing your mind, but you were back in his arms. back where you started.

“y/n.” nathan said.

“i gotta go to the bathroom.” you said and pushed him off you before running to the bathroom and locking yourself in there.

nate laid there in your bed shocked at himself.

what the hell just happened? what did he do? what did he say? why did he say that?

“y/n. can we talk?” nathan said his feet heavy on the hardwood floor.

you could see the shadow of him from underneath the door.

“yeah.” your breath was shaky. you said from behind the door.

“i didn’t mean it.” nate said. fuck. why did he say that? he did mean it! what was he doing now?

you sniffled. he didn’t mean it?

“you didn’t mean it?” you asked a little dejectedly and nate slumped against the door, his forehead hitting the door.

“no. fuck. y/n. i.”

you opened the door and nate fell forwards abruptly, his face smacking the bathroom tile floor.

“oh my god! nate!” you shrieked and dropped to the floor as he groaned.

nathan shot up from the ground.

“i’m good.” nathan said with a bloody smile.

“oh my god, you’re bleeding.” you said and rushed to get a towel.

you yanked at the towel rack hanging over his head and it came crashing down bumping into on the way down to clatter against the floor.

“oh my god. i’m sorry.” you gasped in shock.

“wow.” nathan said.

“what?” you asked as you held the white wash cloth up to his nose and watched in horror as it became a mix of red and white.

“i can’t believe i just went from eating you out to this.” nate gestured between the two of you.

you smacked his chest.

nathan laughed so loudly then. it was deep guttural and his chest vibrated.

“i knew we’d regret this.” you mumbled.

“what?” nate asked. his laugh disappearing from his cheeks and his eyes becoming sad again.

“this, we shouldn’t have done, this. whatever it was.” you rambled.

“you really believe that?” nate searched your eyes.

“isn’t that what you just said?”

“what? no.” nate defended.

“you said ‘i didn’t mean it’ as in you don’t love me.”

“what? no! fuck, y/n. i love you. i love you more than anything. do you really think i don’t?”

“i don’t know.” you looked to the floor as you tried not to focus on his eyes or the blood on the towel.

nate winced as his thumbs found your chin and forced you to look at him.

“y/n. i never stopped loving you. the day you left was the worst day of my life. and i’ve been worse off without you.”

you stayed silent.

“i want to love you again.” you said quietly.

that felt like a gut punch to nate.

“you don’t love me anymore.” nate said.

“no. i mean, i do love you nathan. but i have spent so much time trying to unlove you and remove you from my heart. you really hurt me.”

“i know. i didn’t see you. and i promise that will never happen again.”

“are you sure? i’ve seen the standings.”

“okay, don’t bring that up, we’re getting better.” nathan chuckled, but there was a tone to his edge.

“how would this even work?” you whispered.

“i don’t know. but starting out you never wear those colors again.” nate’s eyes flicked towards the t-shirt he had discarded on the floor so distastefully.

“that’s my job.” you rolled your eyes.

“i hate it.”

“there are lots of things you hate, nathan.”

“but not you.” nathan said.

“not me.” you smiled.

and leaned into kiss him, but stopped short.

“we should really get you to a doctor.” you said and helped him get up even though nathan was twice your size.

nate pulled the bloodied rag back to the reveal the cut in his nose and there was already a bruise forming across his cheek.

“i can’t go to just any doctor.” nathan said.

“well, you need to get it looked at.”

“you’re looking at it.”

“nathan.” you said sternly.

“alright, i’ll get doc to look at it first thing.”

“no. now, you need to go now.”

“now?”

“yes. now.” you said.

“what about us?”

“i’ll see you after the game tomorrow.” you whispered into his chest and kissed him there.

nate felt like your lips had been seared into him on his peck.

“fine.” nate sighed and you watched as he got dressed so slowly to stall time.

despite his injury, nate kissed you hard and deep.

he pulled back wincing, his face swelling already. your fingers brushed across the purple bruise forming.

“i’m so sorry.”

“why? you didn’t do it.” nate deflected.

“i’m still sorry.”

“i’d take a beating if it meant getting the chance to talk to you.”

you giggled, “you look like you did.”

“that’s what i’m gonna tell people.” nate said.

you laughed.

“get out of here, superstar.” you pushed him out the threshold and he held the ice pack you handed to him to his face.

“see you tomorrow, baby.” nate said and he loved that sentence. he never thought he would say it again.

—

“i’m not quite sure, mose. but you’re right it does seem like nathan mackinnon is sporting quite the bruise under his right eye and across his nose.” ryker said as the camera trailed nathan as he skated across the ice.

it waited for him to turn to showcase the dark purple and blue that had spread across his face.

“seems like 29 is well enough to play today, but i did not see any incidents that would cause that in last night’s game ryker.”

“me either, mose. it’s good to see him on the ice.”

“i agree, hopefully the nate and the rest of the avs will be able to capitalize after the loss—“ the broadcast trailed off after erik had gotten what he wanted.

a screenshot of nathan’s face. there was something he’d seen on twitter about it, so he tuned in to see what everyone was talking about and there it was the giant bruise his friend was sporting.

erik was slightly concerned for nathan as he texted the groupchat with a select few guys.

—

nate’s phone buzzed on your nightstand as he nuzzled his neck into your shoulder.

“are you gonna get that?” you asked.

“no.” nate said.

“why not?” you asked.

“because i’m comfy.” nate murmured.

you reached over.

your lips curled into a smile.

“turn it off, it’s bright.” nate pulled you into his body, twisting his arms around you tighter.

“it’s from ej.” you said seeing the text message.

“what does that fucker want?” nate asked.

and you swiped up to see what erik had said, the phone unlocking with ease.

erik johnson: sent an attachment

erik: did you ride the subway alone or something?

gabriel landeskog: he wouldn’t tell me what happened

tyson barrie: damn

cale makar: he said y/n happened

erik: oh my god y/n punched him?! i would have paid to see that

cale: i don’t think that’s what happened.

erik: questioned cale makar’s message

mikko rantanen: since when does y/n talk nate?

cale: since you were traded :/

mikko: disliked cale makar’s messaged

“oh my god tell them to fuck off.” nate said reading over your shoulder.

you laughed.

“that’s all you slugger.” you said and dropped the phone for him to take, but nate didn’t move and it him in the face.

“ow!” nate said as it made contact with the bruise.

nathan mackinnon: y/n smacked me in the face with my phone after sex

nathan: thanks mikko

nate hit send and showed you the message.

“nathan!” you yelled incredulously at him and he laughed as he pulled you into him.

“my face hurts.”

“i don’t care.” you huffed trying to get away from him, but you weren’t really struggling.

the phone on the nightstand was buzzing so much that it started to slide towards the edge before it clattered to the floor and continued making noise underneath the bed.

“i hate you.” you muttered in defiance as nathan tried to kiss you.

“no, you love me.” nathan corrected.

—

Subtitles by yours truly

The most adorable clip ever

lock tf in my guys

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tower fics are so back baby

i hope the entire tkachuk family rots in hell. fucking disgraceful family.

yk the stress is bad when i’m doing my homework to calm down

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