Why Do People Act Like I’ve Threatened To Shoot One Of The Good Presidents When I Say I Don’t Drink

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

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

(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.

—

Why have I never seen this before

This is the funniest thing I have ever seen all the other team admins can go home

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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this blog hates donald trump

Look how many people hate him. I’m pretty damn happy about that 😁😁😁😁😁😁

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.

can we like score or smth man... or kill the panthers

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