summary: On game day, Macklin's teammates discover scratch marks on his back and start teasing him about his seemingly innocent girlfriend.
TW: Fluff, sexual implications.
The pre-game locker room buzzes with its familiar chaotic energy. Music thumps from a portable speaker in the corner, the scent of tape and coffee hangs in the air, and a dozen NHL players go through their individual rituals of focus and preparation.
Macklin moves with a fluid ease, pulling his game-day suit on over his compression shirt. He's in his own world, headphones on, nodding his head to the beat as he mentally prepares for the matchup against the Leafs. He's just about to pull the shirt over his head when a voice cuts through his concentration.
"Holy shit, Celly."
Macklin pauses, one arm in a sleeve and turns to see Will staring at his back with wide eyes, a slow grin spreading across his face.
"What?" Macklin asks, his voice muffled by the fabric.
"Since when do you wrestle bears?" Will laughs, gesturing with his chin. "Turn around. Let the guys see."
Confused, Macklin complies, shrugging off the shirt. The reaction is immediate. A chorus of whistles and chuckles fills the room.
"Well, well, well," says a voice from across the room. It's Toff, leaning against his locker with a knowing smirk. "Looks like someone had a more exciting night than the rest of us."
Macklin's face flushes a deep crimson as he glances over his shoulder at his reflection in the mirror. Sure enough, a series of thin, red scratch marks trail down his back, from his shoulder blades to the small of his back. They're faint, but definitely there.
"I, uh..." he stammers, grabbing his dress shirt and quickly pulling it on, as if that could erase the evidence. "I must have slept wrong."
Will snorts, grabbing a cookie from your container. "Slept wrong? I've had my share of clumsy nights and none of them left me looking like I lost a fight with a cat."
"More like won a fight with a cat," chimes in another teammate, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Macklin's blush deepens. He's usually so composed, so unflappable, but this, this is different. This is about you. About the private, passionate side of your relationship that he treasures, that he has no intention of sharing with the entire Sharks roster.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbles, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. "Probably just my new sheets. They're rough."
Toff laughs, shaking his head. "Right. Rough sheets. That's what the kids are calling it these days."
The teasing continues, a barrage of good-natured jabs and questions. But then, the tone shifts slightly.
"Wait a minute," Will says, his expression turning thoughtful as he takes a bite of his cookie. "These wouldn't happen to be from a certain baker of delicious, innocent-looking cookies, would they?"
The room falls quiet for a moment, all eyes turning to Macklin. You're a beloved figure around the team. You're sweet, kind and always have a kind word or a homemade treat for the guys. You're the epitome of the wholesome girlfriend, the girl they all imagine reads poetry and knits sweaters in her spare time. The idea of you leaving scratch marks on their rookie sensation's back is almost comical.
"She'd never what?" Toff presses, his grin widening. "She'd never leave her mark on her man? Come on, Celebrini, give us some credit. And give her some credit too."
"I just... she's not like that," Macklin insists, though his voice lacks conviction. He can feel his ears burning.
"What? Like she's not a woman with... desires?" Will teases, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "Like she doesn't see all those muscles and think, 'I need to get me some of that'?"
The team roars with laughter and Macklin just shakes his head, a helpless smile playing on his lips despite his embarrassment. He loves that they see you as sweet and innocent, because in many ways, you are. But he also loves the secret he gets to keep, the fire that burns beneath your gentle exterior, the passion that you reserve only for him.
"Look at him," Toff says, pointing at Macklin's beet-red face. "He's all flustered. It's definitely her. Our sweet little cookie monster has claws."
"Hey!" Macklin protests, though he's laughing now too. "Leave her out of this."
"We're not judging," Will says, clapping him on the shoulder. "We're impressed. Very impressed. Who knew she had it in her?"
Macklin just shakes his head, finally managing to finish buttoning his shirt. "Can we talk about the game now? Please?"
"Fine, fine," Toff concedes, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "We'll drop it. For now. But just know, we're all looking at her a little differently now. With a new level of respect."
As the team begins to disperse, heading out for their pre-game meeting, Macklin catches Will's eye. Will just winks at him, popping the last of the cookie into his mouth.
"Good for you," he says, his voice sincere now. "She's a great one."
Macklin smiles, his embarrassment fading, replaced by a warm, private pride. He knows what they think they know, but they have no idea. They don't know about the way you look at him when you think he's not paying attention, the way your hands roam over his body when you're alone, the way you whisper his name against his skin in the dark.
They think the scratches are a fluke, a moment of passion. But he knows they're proof. Proof of your love, proof of your desire, proof of the incredible, passionate, surprising woman you are. And he's the only one who gets to see it.
Later that night, after they've won the game, he calls you. He can hear the smile in your voice as you congratulate him, and he can't help but smile too.
"You're never going to believe what happened in the locker room today," he says, his voice low and intimate.
"What?" you ask, your curiosity piqued.
He laughs, a soft, warm sound. "Let's just say the guys have a new found respect for you. And they're all very impressed with your... baking skills."
Hey, how is everyone??? This will hopefully be the last post about this, but sadly kathrinesblog1202 has created another account kathieleewrites. She’s already stealing I recognized the work.
Please reblog to reach more people, block her and tell NHL writers so they can do the same.
She also confessed to stealing to 19yr old Maya (who doesn’t want to be tagged) she sent me the screenshots.
I’d like to add for if she or anyone else who takes without consideration, that there is a difference between taking inspiration and plagiarism. If you took inspiration more that a few words different and would hold minor similarities e.g. theme/concept or word choice. Plagiarism is taking something and presenting as your own when it’s not.
Proof under the read more
The missing message before your putting word in my mouth was “but that’s not what you said” I don’t want to add more photos
fourth of julying in an america vs. canada gold medal game, going to overtime where zach werenski makes the biggest clutch move of all time to pass the puck to jack hughes where he takes a shot and scores the game winning goal for the gold medal for the first time in 46 years and everyone rejoices and i proceed to have the best 18 hours of my life and not a second more than that way
meanwhile bill guerin's trying to entice a new center with the promise of a tesco meal deal and getting to share a locker room with kirill kaprizov in a see-through tshirt
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