Tower Fics Are So Back Baby

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jo looks so sweet tf man

I fear I’ve gone down a rabbit hole and need to be stopped.

Heat Check (18+)

Nate MacKinnon x reader

summary: enemies to lovers, friendship with the team, smut

—--------------------------------------------------

Disciplined. Focused. Dedicated.

That’s how Nathan MacKinnon was wired, and your mere existence threatened that. 

The Avalanche hired you before the season started to join the marketing team, and your job required you to work closely with the players.  You made sure they were always where they were supposed to be for different non-hockey events, and watched over press conferences and interviews - that sort of thing. 

Being in your mid-20s had a major advantage; you had enough years out of college that the players took you seriously, but still young enough that they messed around with you. You loved most of the players, but specifically, you were close with Jack Drury and Parker Kelly since they were the closest in age to you. 

They took pity on you for not knowing anyone in Denver when you moved and quickly integrated you into their friend group which you were very grateful for. Being friends with them was easy since you had pretty much the same hectic schedule. 

While those two loved you, there was one player who did not love you. Unfortunately, he just happened to be the most important one. 

Flashbacks

You were only two weeks into the job when Nate MacKinnon’s sharp voice echoed down the hallway.

"Why the hell am I the only one here on time?" he snapped, glaring at the half-empty media room.

You checked your clipboard and calmly replied, “Because you didn’t read the schedule. Your slot isn’t for another 20 minutes.”

He narrowed his eyes. “So I’m just standing here like an idiot?”

“If the shoe fits,” you said sweetly, not looking up from your notes.

His jaw clenched. You didn’t flinch.

—--------------------------------------

“I told you I don’t want to do this ad,” Nate muttered, arms crossed as you stood in the locker room doorway.

You didn’t blink. “And I told you it’s in your contract. You skipped the last two. You’re out of excuses.”

“I have a routine. This screws it up.”

“Then I suggest you adjust,” you said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the waiting car. “Or do you want to explain to PR why your face isn’t in the team’s biggest sponsorship campaign?”

He muttered something under his breath but followed you out.

—--------------------------------------

“You didn’t tell me I had to speak,” Nate hissed as you straightened his name tag at the pre-event check-in.

You raised an eyebrow. “I did. Twice. You rolled your eyes both times.”

“I’m not a public speaker.”

You gave him a cool smile. “Lucky for you, I already wrote your speech. Try not to make it sound like a hostage video.”

“Why do you always have an answer for everything?” he growled.

“Because someone has to,” you replied, turning on your heel and leaving him standing there, speech in hand.

End of flashbacks

Jack and Parker always chastised you for going toe to toe with Nate but you just brushed them off. You didn’t have to answer him the way that they both did. Most of the team found it amusing, how easily you could get under his skin but you were more irritated by it – he was living up to the stereoype of stuck-up athlete who thought they were above listening to people like you. 

During games, you sat in a team suite with other marketing people that had to be there and some operations folks. The Avs captain, Gabe, usually sat up here with you for away games and you had grown to really enjoy his company. The team was playing in St. Louis and you had just settled in next to Gabe who was intensely watching someone during the warm ups. 

“Who are you watching?” You asked curiously, handing him a water. 

“Nate,” he said, his eyes not leaving the rink. “Something is up with him, seems like he’s in a bad mood.”

“He’s always in a bad mood,” you muttered and Gabe let out a short laugh, grinning at you. 

"Just to you, but this is different," Gabe replied, his expression turning serious again. "He's been off since morning skate. Usually, he's laser-focused before games, but today he's... distracted."

You followed Gabe's gaze to where Nate was on the ice. Even from this distance, you could see the tension in his shoulders as he took shots with more force than necessary. One clapped off the crossbar so hard it echoed through the arena.

"Maybe he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed," you suggested, settling back in your seat.

Gabe shook his head. "No, this started after he checked his phone in the locker room. Something's bothering him."

"Well, whatever it is, let's hope he channels it into scoring tonight," you said, trying to sound nonchalant despite your curiosity being piqued.

He did not channel it into scoring. You watched shocked as things started off bad and then just kept getting worse. He got into a fight 5 minutes into the first period and ended up in the penalty box. Nate MacKinnon in the box for fighting??? This hadn’t happened in ages. 

The crowd was relentless, chirping him nonstop and for the man who prided himself on his ability to laser focus, you could see him starting to crack. 

“What the fuck is going on?” You mumbled, watching him get into it with another Blues’ player. 

Gabe was in just as much shock as you, “I have never seen him like this. I can’t even tell you the last time I saw him really in a fight.”

The two of you watched the rest of the third period in silence after Nate was pulled. You could tell, even from way up where you were, that he was fuming. The game ended, the Avs losing 2-0 and you packed up your stuff from the suite, heading down to one of the buses where you waited to leave with the team. You sat with another girl in marketing for the short ride to airport, boarding the jet quickly to get back to Denver. 

As much as you wanted nothing more than to pour a glass of wine and curl up on your couch, you had just a little bit of work to finish up before you went home. So your first stop when the busses brought you back to the facility was to your office. 

45 minutes later you decided to wrap it up and finally head out. You grabbed your coat and retreated downstairs, heading towards the parking lot. Someone came out from another part of the building and was a couple of steps ahead of you towards the same direction. 

It was Nate.

Of course it was Nate.

You debated turning around—just calling an Uber and coming back for your car in the morning—but then he turned his head, clearly hearing your footsteps behind him. His shoulders tensed, and you sighed.

Too late.

You kept walking, giving him a wide berth as you reached your car.

“What?” you snapped when you caught him glaring at you from across the row.

“You have something to say?” Nate barked, tossing his bag into the back of his SUV with more force than necessary.

“Nope,” you said, popping your trunk. “But apparently you do, since you're throwing bags around like a toddler.”

He scoffed. “You think this is funny?”

“I think you picking fights on the ice like a pissed-off frat boy is a little pathetic, yeah.”

Nate stalked a step closer, jaw clenched. “You don’t know what’s going on with me.”

“Because you don’t let anyone know,” you fired back, slamming your trunk shut. “You just sulk and snap at everyone who breathes too loud near you.”

“And you always have to be right, don’t you?” he bit out. “Every damn time, there you are—telling me what to do, acting like you’re better than everyone else.”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

He stepped even closer, tension radiating off of him. “You don’t respect me.”

“No,” you said, standing your ground, chin raised. “I don’t coddle you. There’s a difference.”

Nate was quiet for a moment, his breathing shallow. His eyes darted over your face like he was trying to figure you out for the first time.

“You drive me insane,” he muttered.

“Good,” you shot back. “It’s mutual.”

There was another pause, longer this time. Something charged in the air. You were both too stubborn to back down, standing in the glow of the parking lot lights, faces inches apart.

Neither of you knew it - but you weren’t alone in the parking lot. Cale and Gabe had also stayed behind and were standing by the doors, watching your little showdown. 

“Do you think we should intervene?” Cale asked, scratching the back of his head. They had watched the two of you yell at each other from across the row to now yelling in each other’s faces. 

Gabe started to say yes as your finger came up to Nate’s face but stopped short at what he saw. Your finger was in Nate’s face for less than a second before he pushed you back against his car, his lips on yours in a searing kiss. You were frozen for only a millisecond before you responded back harshly against him, wrapping your hand into his hair and pulling roughly. 

Gabe and Cale were both slack jawed watching the scene in front of them. 

"Holy shit," Cale whispered, eyes wide as he watched his teammate and you locked in what could only be described as the most aggressive make-out session he'd ever witnessed.

"We should... probably go," Gabe said, but neither of them moved, too shocked by the scene unfolding before them.

Meanwhile, your mind was racing even as your body responded to Nate's touch. His hands were everywhere—in your hair, gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as if the space between you was personally offensive to him. The kiss was all teeth and frustration, months of tension finally breaking.

When you finally pulled away for air, your chest heaving, Nate's eyes were dark and intense. His hair was disheveled where you'd run your fingers through it, and a flush had spread across his cheekbones.

"What the hell was that?" you breathed, staring at him in shock. 

His jaw tightened, “Get in the car.”

“Make me,” you barked back, full of attitude. He yanked open the door behind you and pushed you in. You scooted back in his spacious back seat and he was on you again in an instant. 

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding, as he slammed the door shut behind him. Your back pressed against the leather seat, his weight pinning you down as his hands found the hem of your shirt. The windows quickly fogged as your breaths came in short, desperate gasps.

"I fucking hate how much I want you," he growled against your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

"Shut up," you hissed back, tugging his hair hard enough to make him groan. "Just shut up for once."

“God I can’t wait to fuck that attitude out of you,” he growled, flipping you over to where your arms rested against the door. He yanked down your pants and ran his hand over your ass once before slapping it hard. 

“I’d like to see you try,” you said brattily, as you looked over your shoulder at him. 

His eyes darkened at your challenge, a dangerous smirk playing at his lips. "You always have to push, don't you?"

His hand came down again, harder this time, and you bit back a moan. The sting radiated across your skin as his fingers dipped between your thighs, finding you embarrassingly wet.

"Look at that," he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. "All that attitude, and this is what you really want."

You tried to maintain your composure, but it crumbled when he slid two fingers inside you without warning. Your head fell forward against the door as he curled them just right, making your knees weak.

"Fuck," you gasped, arching back against him.

"That's the plan," Nate replied, his free hand moving to unbuckle his belt. The sound of his zipper sliding down sent a thrill down your spine. He fingered you for a few more minutes before you pulling out, replacing them with the head of his cock at your entrance. 

You knew he was going to tease you and you weren’t going to give him the chance. Moving back quickly you pushed yourself onto his cock all at once, making him groan. 

"Jesus," he hissed, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you knew there would be bruises tomorrow. "You just can't let me have control, can you?"

"Not when you're so slow," you taunted, rolling your hips back against him.

That was all it took to snap his restraint. Nate growled low in his throat and pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into you with enough force to push you forward. One hand snaked around to grip your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse quicken as he established a punishing rhythm.

"Still think I'm slow?" he panted against your ear, his other hand reaching around to circle your clit.

Each thrust was deep and deliberate, like he was trying to brand himself into you. The car rocked with the force of his body driving into yours. 

Your thighs trembled as you struggled to maintain your position, the dual sensation of his fingers and his relentless pace pushing you rapidly toward the edge.

"Answer me," he demanded, giving your throat a gentle squeeze.

"N-no," you gasped, pride still battling with pleasure. "But I bet you can't make me come before you do."

You felt rather than heard his chuckle, a rumble against your back as he leaned over you.

"Always a competition with you," he muttered, but his fingers moved faster, more precisely against your clit. "Fine. Challenge accepted."

Nate shifted his angle slightly, hitting a spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids. His rhythm never faltered as he used everything he'd learned about your body in the last few minutes to dismantle you completely.

"Shit," you whimpered, feeling your orgasm building. But you still had one trick left up your sleeve. 

Clenching deliberately around him, you heard his breath catch. "Fuck," he groaned, his rhythm faltering for just a second.

"Not so confident now?" you managed to say between ragged breaths, even as your own control was slipping.

Nate responded by sliding his hand from your throat into your hair, gripping tightly and pulling your head back. His mouth found your ear, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "Nice try," he whispered, voice strained with effort. "But I know what you're doing."

He released your hair only to snake his arm around your waist, lifting you slightly to change the angle. The new position hit something deep inside that made your entire body jolt.

"Oh god," you gasped, your arms trembling as they braced against the door.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice husky and commanding. "Let go for me baby.” 

He thought he had you exactly where he wanted you but he caught sight of you in the reflection of the window and that sent him over the edge. Your hair was a mess, and you were panting hard but he had never seen anything hotter than you in this moment. 

Your name fell from his lips in a strangled groan as he came, his hips stuttering against you. The feeling of him pulsing inside you combined with his fingers still working against your clit sent you crashing over the edge just seconds later, your body clenching around him as waves of pleasure rolled through you.

For a moment, the only sound was your shared ragged breathing fogging up the windows of his luxury SUV. Reality slowly began to seep back in as your heartbeat returned to normal.

"Fuck," Nate muttered, carefully pulling away from you. The loss of contact felt sudden, almost jarring.

You straightened up, wincing slightly at the soreness already setting in, and began to fix your clothes in the confined space. The post-orgasm clarity was hitting hard, and with it came the realization of what you'd just done. Not giving him a chance to say anything, you simply opened the car door and stumbled out. You didn’t look back as you walked towards your car and it honestly felt like you were in a fever dream. 

You hated Nathan MacKinnon. Hated him. So why then did you just fuck him in the back of a car like a tennager? 

—---------------------------------------

Work the next day wasn’t awkward but that was mostly due to the fact that you normally avoided Nate at all costs; you hadn’t even spared him a glance when you were both in the lobby that morning. Your game plan was calm, cool, and collected. There was no reason for him to know that he was the reason you didn’t get any sleep, your head playing the car scene on replay and then getting mad at yourself for doing it. 

Morning skate was over and you were standing outside the locker room talking to Cale and Parker about an upcoming charity event they both had to be at. 

“Just send us a reminder the week of please,” Parker begged and you laughed, agreeing to his request. 

“So y/n, do anything fun after getting back last night?” Cale asked randomly and both you and Parker gave him a weird look. 

“Can’t say that I did,” you said confused, “Just went home and hung out.”

“So you hung out at a home? Not anywhere else?” Cale pressed. 

You shot Cale a perplexed look. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," he replied too quickly, a strange smile playing at his lips. "Just making conversation."

Parker glanced between the two of you, clearly sensing something was off. Before he could question it further, the locker room door swung open and several players filed out. Your heart skipped traitorously when Nate emerged, his hair still damp from the shower.

His eyes locked with yours for a split second before he ducked his head, brushing past your small group without a word. The faintest hint of his cologne lingered in his wake, bringing unwelcome flashbacks of being pressed against him.

"That was weird," Parker commented, watching Nate's retreating form. "He didn't even glare at you. Are you sure you two didn't finally hash things out?"

“Yeah, like in a car or something?” Cale added and you froze. 

“What does that mean?” Parker asked and you turned ot Cale who had a shit eating grin on his face. 

“Can you give us a minute Parker,” you managed to stutter out, mind racing at the words that just came out of this man’s mouth. Parker nodded slowly before turning to catch Jack who was on his way out. 

“How do you know?” You seethed at Cale once Parker was out of sight. “And why would you fucking bring it up?” 

Cale just laughed and grinned down on you, “You two weren’t the only ones in the parking lot last night. Gabe and I got an eyeful.” 

Your stomach dropped to your feet. "Oh my god."

"Don't worry," Cale said, lowering his voice. "We left as soon as things... escalated. But maybe next time pick somewhere more private than the team parking lot?"

You covered your face with your hands, mortification washing over you in waves. "I'm going to die. Right here. This is how it ends."

Cale chuckled. "Relax. Gabe and I aren't going to tell anyone."

"Does Nate know that you saw?" you whispered, peeking through your fingers.

"No idea. We didn't exactly stick around to exchange notes." Cale's expression softened. "Look, whatever's going on between you two—"

"Nothing is going on," you cut in quickly. "It was a... momentary lapse in judgment. A stress relief thing. That’s all.” 

“Hmm,” he said, looking at you carefully. “Just interesting for a guy who has said he’s so focused on the team that he won’t even think about girls to be caught fucking one in the parking lot. Specifically one he claims he can’t stand.” 

You rolled your eyes but didn’t say anything, filing away that comment for later. 

—---------------------------------------

Gabe was standing in the locker room, hovering near Nate’s locker as he scanned the room for a perfect accomplice in what he was about to do. Cale had told him what you had said about the following night so now he wanted to put to the test if you were the only one hot and bothered about it. 

“Charlie!” His eyes lighted up as he caught side of the new Avs player passing by. Glancing over to make sure Nate didn’t have his headphones in he continued on. “Tough game yesterday.” 

“No kidding cap,” Charlie said. “Definitley was happy to get home.” 

“Good thing we have people on the team to support us,” Gabe tried to say casually. “Have you met y/n yet?” 

Gabe watched Nate still at the mention of your name while Charlie nodded. 

“Yeah - she’s cool,” he said. 

“Kinda hot too right?” Gabe urged on and Charlie gave him a bewildered look. 

“Yeah - aren’t you married?” Charlie asked. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t call it like I see it,” Gabe said, already thinking of ways to make it up to his wife for this performance. 

“Enough,” barked Nate and Gabe grinned. “Don’t talk about Avs employees like that.” 

Charlie started to back away, desperate to get away from whatever was going on as Nate glared daggers into the side of Gabe’s face. Gabe pretended to ponder for a moment. 

“Hmm good call, what’s your take on hanging out with them outside of work? Like in the backseat of a car?” 

Nate was on his feet in an instant, shoving Gabe across the locker room. Shouts went out as other players watched Nate stalk over to where Gabe had landed. 

"What the fuck, man?" Nate growled, looming over Gabe who was sprawled against the lockers.

Gabe held up his hands in surrender, but couldn't hide his smirk. "Just asking a question."

The locker room had gone silent, everyone frozen in place watching the scene unfold. EJ took a hesitant step forward, ready to intervene, but Gabe waved him off.

"You saw," Nate hissed, his voice low enough that only Gabe could hear. "How many others know?"

"Just me and Cale," Gabe replied, getting to his feet and straightening his shirt. "Your secret's safe. Though I wouldn't call it a secret when you're going at it in the team parking lot."

Nate ran a hand through his hair, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. “It didn’t mean anything.”

Gabe grinned, “Then why’d you throw me across the locker room?” 

—--------------------------------------

You were in your head at work these days and still had refused to talk to Nate. You wish you could say that you were over what happened but that definitely wasn’t the case, in more ways than one. 

“Are you sure I can’t stay the night?”

You looked up over at the guy you’d matched with on Hinge hovering near your door with mild sympathy. 

“Yeah - I’m sorry, I have a really early morning,” you lied, hoping your face looked like you meant it. 

“Okay, well this was great, let’s do it again sometime,” he said, coming over to kiss you one last time before heading out. You waited until you heard the door click shut to fall back on your bed and scream into your pillow. 

Everything about this guy was perfect. He was hot as fuck, had a great job, and seemed genuinely interested in you. But the whole time you couldn’t stop comparing him to that fucking asshole on the Avs. 

You shouldn’t have let him come back to your apartment but you did in hopes that it would snap you back into reality but the opposite happened. You had to fake it for god sake. 

It had been two weeks since your unfortunate parking lot adventure and this was the second time this had happened. You just couldn’t “get it up” anymore. 

You hadn’t meant to cross paths with him.

But of course, when you turned the corner into the media room to double-check tomorrow’s charity schedule, there he was leaning against the table, arms crossed, talking with Gabe and Cale.

You stalled for a second in the doorway, hoping maybe he wouldn't notice you. No such luck. His eyes locked on yours immediately, his expression sharpening like he’d been waiting for you.

You moved to the far side of the room, rifling through the papers you needed. He wasn’t going to rattle you today.

“I sent you the updated itinerary,” you said aloud, without looking at him. “So there’s no reason you shouldn’t be where you’re supposed to be tomorrow.”

“I know how to read a schedule,” Nate snapped, his voice curt.

You turned to face him, eyebrow raised. “Could’ve fooled me last week when you bailed on the hospital visit.”

“I told PR I wasn’t feeling well,” he replied, his tone clipped. “I’m not going to show up for a photo op when I’ve got a fever.”

“No one’s asking you to pose on a red carpet,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “It’s called being a professional.”

“Don’t lecture me about professionalism,” he said, stepping closer. “Especially not when you—”

“Nate,” Gabe warned gently, but you held up a hand to stop him.

“No, let him finish,” you said, eyes narrowing. “Since he’s so good at making things personal.”

The room tensed. Even Cale took a step back like he wanted to pretend he wasn’t witnessing this.

Nate’s jaw flexed. “You walk around here acting like you’re the one in charge of everyone. You don’t know what it’s like out there, what we’re dealing with.”

“And you think you’re the only one carrying weight?” you replied. “You think it’s easy managing egos the size of this building? Try keeping an entire media schedule from falling apart while you throw tantrums over a twenty-minute interview.”

He moved even closer, standing toe-to-toe with you now. “You really have a way of getting under people’s skin, you know that?”

“You’re not exactly sunshine and charm either,” you retorted, glaring up at him.

For a second, neither of you moved. The tension between you buzzed like an exposed wire. It wasn’t just anger—it was something else, something sharper, more dangerous.

Cale cleared his throat loudly. “So, uh... we’re gonna go.”

“Yeah,” Gabe mumbled, already walking toward the door. “Enjoy… whatever this is.”

Once they were gone, the silence between you was deafening.

You stared at Nate, heart pounding in your chest. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“Then stop starting it,” he replied, voice low.

You rolled your eyes and turned to gather your paperwork, but his voice stopped you.

“Don’t act like you don’t feel it too.”

You froze.

He was still standing there, arms crossed again, but his gaze had softened. There was something behind it—uncertainty, maybe even regret. And underneath that, the same pull that had been growing stronger since the moment you met him.

You swallowed. “Maybe I do,” you said. “But it doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”

His eyes darkened just slightly. “Most of the best things in life aren’t.”

You shook your head, but couldn’t fight the small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice quieter now. “But you don’t seem to be going anywhere.”

—-----------------------------------

All you wanted to do after the shit day you had was go home and take a bath and pop open a bottle of wine, but begrudgingly you found yourself at a bar in downtown Denver per Jack and Parker’s request. 

It was Ross Colton’s birthday and you were friendly with him so the boys insisted that you come. You did enjoy the opportunity to let loose and dress differently than you did at work. Your long hair was curled down your back, laying atop of a tight black top paired with cargo pants. 

The bar was loud, buzzing with bodies and laughter and music thumping just a little too hard through the walls. You were doing your best to pretend you were having a good time—smiling when Parker made a dumb face, clinking your glass with Jack’s—but you couldn’t shake the weight in your chest.

Eventually, you drifted away from the group, needing a break. You made your way to the bar, perched on the edge of a stool, and ordered a sparkling water, hoping the coolness would help ground you.

You didn’t notice the guy until he was already too close.

“Hey there,” he said, voice low and way too confident. “Been watching you all night.”

You glanced at him briefly. “Cool,” you muttered, turning your attention back to your drink.

But he didn’t move.

“You alone?”

“No,” you said quickly. “Just needed some air.”

He grinned like you’d invited him in. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got time to keep you company.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He leaned in anyway, his shoulder brushing yours. “You sure? You look like you could use a strong drink and a stronger distraction.”

You shifted slightly in your seat, trying to put space between your bodies. “I said I’m fine.”

“C’mon,” he said, lowering his voice as he moved closer. “Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to be nice.”

His hand landed on your leg—too high, too firm—and your entire body stiffened. You pushed it off immediately, heart rate spiking.

“Don’t touch me,” you snapped.

He smiled like it was a joke. “Relax. You don’t have to play hard to get.”

You stood up abruptly, your barstool scraping loudly across the floor. “Back off.”

He grabbed your wrist.

Not hard—but enough to freeze your blood.

“Let go,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady even as panic started crawling up your throat.

A second passed. Then another. Finally, he released you with a mocking smirk, like you were the one overreacting.

You spun on your heel, pushing past people, your breath shallow. You didn’t stop until you reached the hallway near the bathrooms. The music faded just enough that your pulse was the loudest thing you could hear.

You locked yourself in the farthest stall and sat on the closed toilet seat, burying your face in your hands.

Your fingers trembled. You felt sick. A few tears made their way down your face and you couldn’t stop your mind from flashing the look on that guy’s face when he looked at you. It chilled you. 

Pulling yourself together you made it to the bathroom sink, splashing water on your face to calm down. Your eyes were a little red-rimmed but you hoped that the low lights of the bar would fix that. Smoothing your hair, you gave yourself one last look before heading back out. 

Parker was the first person you saw and you beelined towards him, not even noticing it was Nate who he was talking to. 

“Hey,” Parker greeted as you barreled into him, he started to say something else but shifted gears. “What’s wrong?”

Nate’s attention snapped towards you, taking in your red eyes and the general nervousness you were exhibiting. 

“Nothing,” you said, trying to sound normal. “Just tired.” 

Parker accepted the answer and kept on what he was saying but Nate wasn’t listening, his eyes were trained on you. You met them for a second before blinking away and that was all he needed. He knew what he saw. Fear. 

“Who is he?” He interrupted Parker mid-sentence and you shifted from one foot to another. 

“It’s fine,” you told him. 

"It's not fine," Nate insisted, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me who he is."

Parker looked between the two of you, confused. "What's going on?"

You shook your head. "Nothing. Just some creep at the bar, but I handled it."

Nate's jaw clenched as his eyes scanned the room. "Which one?"

"Nate, seriously—"

"Which. One." His voice left no room for argument.

You sighed, discretely gesturing toward the guy who was now leaning against the bar, watching you with that same smirk. "The one in the blue button-down. But please don't make a scene."

Nate was already moving before you finished your sentence, his shoulders set in a hard line as he cut through the crowd. Parker cursed under his breath and followed, clearly sensing trouble.

You scrambled after them, heart hammering in your chest. "Nate, don't—"

But he was already standing in front of the guy, his presence commanding even in the crowded bar. You pushed your way through just in time to hear Nate's deceptively calm voice.

"I understand you've been bothering my friend."

The guy's smirk faltered slightly as he looked up at Nate, clearly recognizing him. "We were just talking, man. No big deal."

"Grabbing someone isn't 'just talking,'" Nate replied, his voice dropping even lower. "And I don't like when people touch what's mine."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. Parker shot you a surprised look, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding.

The guy straightened, trying to match Nate's height and masking his panic with a fake sense of confidence. 

“Do you usually let your girl dress like a slut then?” He shot out and it wasn’t a second after the last word left his mouth that Nate’s fist was flying towards his face. 

The bar erupted into chaos. The guy staggered backward, blood already trickling from his nose as he crashed into a table of drinks. Glasses shattered across the floor. Someone screamed.

"Nate!" you shouted, lunging forward to grab his arm before he could land another punch. His muscles were coiled tight under your fingers, ready to strike again.

Parker was there in an instant, pulling Nate back with both arms. "Not worth it, man. Not here."

Security descended on your group within seconds, burly men in black shirts materializing from the edges of the room. One of them recognized Nate immediately, his eyes widening.

"Everyone out. Now," the head security guard commanded, pointing toward the exit.

The guy with the bloody nose was still sprawled against the broken table, clutching his face and cursing. "You're fucking dead, MacKinnon.”

Nate just grinned at him. A sadistic sort of grin that had heat flwogin through your body. 

“I’ll see you outside then.”

You followed close behind as security escorted Nate out of the bar. 

Parker and Jack flanked Nate on either side as you all spilled out onto the sidewalk, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin. Nate shook his hand out, knuckles already reddening from the impact.

"What the hell was that?" Parker hissed, keeping his voice low as curious onlookers gathered nearby.

"He had it coming," Nate replied flatly, his eyes still burning with anger.

You stepped in front of him, placing a hand on his chest. "Are you insane? You can't just punch people in public. You're the face of the franchise!"

His eyes locked with yours, intense and unrepentant. "He put his hands on you."

"I handled it," you insisted, though your voice wavered slightly.

"Not from where I was standing," he growled.

Jack glanced nervously over his shoulder. “We might get round 2 soon guys.” 

“Good, I was just getting started,” Nate boasted and you rolled your eyes. 

“No,” you said, irritated. “Your hand is already bloodied and I’m not going to be the reason you have to sit out a game. You two go back in and have fun, I’m taking him to get cleaned up.” 

Parker and Jack both raised their eyebrows at you but didn’t argue. Nate looked like he was going to protest but one glare from you shut him up. You led him down the street and towards your apartment; the walk was silent but luckily short and you were soon climbing up the familiar steps to your place. 

“Come on,” you murmured as you stepped in, motioning for him to follow you to the kitchen. 

He followed you silently, eyes taking in every detail of your apartment. It was tidy but lived-in, with touches of your personality everywhere—books stacked on the coffee table, a sweater draped over the couch, a few framed photos on the wall.

"Sit," you instructed, pointing to a barstool at your kitchen counter. Nate obeyed without argument, watching as you moved to the freezer and pulled out an ice pack.

You grabbed a clean dish towel, wrapped the ice pack inside it, and gently took his hand. His knuckles were already swelling, skin split across two of them.

"This was stupid," you muttered, carefully pressing the ice to his hand. "You know that, right?"

"Doesn't feel stupid," he replied, his voice quieter now, all the rage from earlier simmering down to something more controlled.

“You laid a claim on me to that guy and Parker and Jack,” you said, looking him the eye now. “Why?”

“You are mine,” he said with a shrug, as if it was the most casual thing in th world. 

“I am not yours,” you argued. “We don’t even like each other.” 

“You became mine the second you didn’t push me away,” he said seriously and you groaned in frustration. 

"That doesn't make any sense," you said, pulling away from him and setting the ice pack on the counter. "One hook-up in a car doesn't make me yours."

Nate's eyes followed you as you paced the small kitchen. "It wasn't just the hook-up."

"Then what was it? Our constant arguments? The way you glare at me across rooms? Please, enlighten me."

He stood up, closing the distance between you in two strides. "It's the way you don't back down. How you call me on my shit when everyone else just nods and agrees. It's how you walk into a room like you own it." His voice dropped lower. "It's how you felt against me that night."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Nate—"

"I can't stop thinking about you," he admitted, the confession seeming to surprise even him. “You’re in my head constantly - it’s infuriating.” 

You smirked at that, only he would find a way to be into you and pissed about it at the same time. Well maybe you felt that way too. 

“I’ve had to fake two orgasms since then,” you blurted out and his head snapped up, faint amusement on his face. 

“Oh yeah?” He pressed. 

Your face was scarlet and you turned away mumbling, “Keep thinking about the car.” 

Nate stepped closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. His injured hand hovered near your hip like he wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

“You think I haven’t thought about it too?” he asked, voice low. “That I haven’t replayed that night a hundred times?”

You swallowed hard, unsure if you were dizzy from how close he was or from the confession itself. “Then why are you such an asshole to me?”

His jaw ticked, but he didn’t look away. “Because I didn’t know how else to act around you. You get under my skin. You make everything feel... unsteady.”

Your breath hitched. “Unsteady isn’t always a bad thing.”

He reached out slowly, giving you time to pull away—but you didn’t. His hand settled lightly on your waist.

“Let me take you out,” he said, softer now. “Not to the backseat of my car. A real date. Just us. No yelling. No insults.”

You stared up at him, heart thudding.

“You’re intense,” you said quietly.

He gave a small grin. “So are you.”

The silence between you now felt different—warmer, heavier with something that wasn’t just lust or rivalry anymore.

“Okay,” you said, your voice almost a whisper. “One date.”

Nate exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for months. “One date,” he agreed. “But I’m warning you now—I’m not planning on it being the last.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile betrayed you.

He leaned down, brushing his lips gently against your cheek, this time not rushed or heated—just a promise.

And for the first time in weeks, your chest didn’t feel so heavy.

lock tf in my guys

ok maybe time to pull woll

A hero without a cape

bringing back this video for no reason

rb to give a flower to the person you rb this from

do you love mark webber

I LOVE MARK WEBBEER!!

Guys I was hit with inspiration at 4am this morning while severely sleep deprived (and also lowkey sick) <33

So, enjoy my creation— the Quinnmp (the Quinn blimp)