Can you write something about Mack and reader getting into a really toxic argument because he gets jealous (maybe because reader barley paid him any attention at like a team event or something)
Baby, YouΒ΄re Toxic - Macklin Celebrini
pairing: Macklin Celebrini x female reader
summary: Mack and you get into a toxic fight.
CW: Toxic relationship, Mack is really mean, jealousy, crying, established relationship.
The heavy oak door of your home clicks shut behind Macklin, the sound echoing in the tense silence that follows. The ride from the team charity gala had been suffocating, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, his jaw set in a hard line. You had tried to fill the silence with observations about the event, but your words dissolved into the oppressive atmosphere between you.
Now, in the soft glow of the entryway light, his anger finally erupts.
"Having fun tonight?" he asks, his voice dangerously calm as he shrugs off his suit jacket and tosses it onto a chair.
You freeze in the act of removing your heels. "What do you mean? It was a nice event. Raised a lot of money."
Macklin turns slowly, his eyes narrowed. "Don't play dumb. You know what I'm talking about."
"I really don't," you say, though a sinking feeling tells you exactly where this is heading.
He takes a step closer. "Will. You couldn't stay away from him, could you? Laughing at his stupid jokes, touching his arm every time he said something."
Your own anger begins to simmer. "We were having a conversation, Mack. It's called being social. Something you should try sometime instead of brooding in the corner."
His face darkens. "I wasn't brooding. I was watching my girlfriend flirt with my best friend in front of everyone."
"I wasn't flirting!" you retort, your voice rising. "You left me alone the entire night, Mack, talking with the coaches and forgetting all about me."
"That's my job!" he yells, his voice echoing off the walls. "What's your excuse? Throwing yourself at the first guy who gives you a little attention?"
"I wasn't throwing myself at anyone!" you scream back, your voice cracking. "Will is your friend, he's nice, he actually talks to me like I'm a person instead of just an accessory you bring to events."
"An accessory?" Macklin scoffs, advancing until he's towering over you. "That's what you think of yourself? That's what you think I think of you? After everything I've done for you?"
"Everything you've done for me?" you repeat incredulously. "You mean like controlling who I talk to? Like getting angry every time a man looks at me? Like making me feel guilty for having friends?"
"I don't make you feel guilty!" he shouts, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "You do that to yourself because you know you're crossing lines!"
"I'm not crossing any lines!" you fire back. "You're the one with the problem! You're so insecure that any time I interact with another human being with a penis, you assume I'm cheating on you!"
"Maybe because you want to!" he retorts, his words like physical blows. "Maybe because you're bored with me already and looking for an upgrade!"
"That's disgusting," you say, shaking with rage and hurt. "How can you even say that to me?"
"It's the truth, isn't it?" he presses, stepping closer still, invading your space. "You love the attention. You love knowing that Will, that all of them, want you. It gets you off, doesn't it? Knowing you could have any of them."
Tears of frustration sting your eyes. "You're being cruel, Mack. You're saying horrible things just to hurt me."
"Maybe I want to hurt you," he says, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. "Maybe I want you to feel even a fraction of what I felt tonight, watching you with him. Watching you give him the smiles that are supposed to be mine. The touches that are supposed to be mine."
"You don't own me, Macklin," you say, your voice trembling. "You don't own my smiles or my touches or my conversations. I'm not your property."
"Aren't you?" he challenges, his eyes blazing with a possessive fire that both frightens and sickens you. "Isn't that what this is? You live in my house, you spend my money, you wear the clothes I bought you. You exist because I allow you to."
The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You stare at him, at the stranger standing before you wearing your boyfriend's face.
As the last word leaves his lips, something shifts in his expression. The anger in his eyes dissolves, replaced by immediate, gut-wrenching regret. He sees the devastation on your face, the way your lip trembles, the tears welling in your eyes, the way you physically shrink back from him as if struck.
"Oh god," he whispers, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean that. I'm so sorry."
He reaches for you, his arms opening to pull you into an embrace, to take back the words that have caused so much damage.
But you flinch away from his touch, stumbling back as if his hands are fire. The rejection is a physical blow to Macklin, his arms dropping uselessly to his sides.
"Don't touch me," you whisper, your voice broken by sobs that finally break free. "I can't... I don't want to be near you right now."
You turn and flee, not even bothering to grab your purse or phone. The sound of the bedroom door closing, then the soft click of the front door opening and closing again, leaves Macklin standing alone in the entryway.
The silence that follows is deafening, more punishing than any argument. Macklin sinks to his knees, his head in his hands, the weight of his words crushing him. He replays the moment over and over, the flash of hurt in your eyes, the way you flinched from his touch, the sound of your broken voice telling him to stay away.
He had been so blinded by jealousy, so consumed by insecurity, that he had deliberately aimed his words to cause maximum damage. And now, seeing the wreckage he's created, he's filled with a self-loathing so profound it threatens to suffocate him.
"I'm sorry," he whispers to the empty room, though you're no longer there to hear it. "I'm so, so sorry."
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Macklin Celebrini x Taylor St. James (OC) - masterlist
summary: where Mack finds the pretty media girls instagram & Taylor faces the consequences of her actions
a/n: what a long time coming my friends and taymacks #1 fan @babypuck
MARCH 2025
The plane was set to leave at eleven oβclock on the dot. It was at eleven thirty-two that Macklin Celebrini finally boarded that plane. He was rid of his suit jacket, and his hair was a complete mess like heβd been pulling at the delicate bronde roots. The team sat in their unassigned assigned seats as they did every time they started a road trip.
And as usual, Mack took the seat heβd been in since his rookie year right beside Will, who was halfway through opening a Tupperware of homemade chocolate chip cookies. People had asked if everything was alright, to which he gave them a tired, half-hearted nod.
As the plane took off, most of the guys went to sleep, others caught up on whatever they were reading, and like typical teenagers, Will and Mack were on their phones doomscrolling.Β
While Will scrolled through TikTok saving recipes, Mack was adjacent, letting the red and blue of the Rangers Instagram cast a hue over his features. He had to admit from the aesthetic standpoint of everything a sports teamβs social media needed, it checked off all the boxes from eye-catching graphics to player charity work. Though he really discovered gold when he came across a βmeet the staffβ post for appreciation back in October.Β
She was on the third slide smiling ear to ear in a white tee, vintage Rangers logo printed across the center, with her dark hair in waves across her shoulders. βMEET TAYLOR ST. JAMESβ was written in big bold letters. There she was, the girl that basically took the blame for a crash she had no part in. It was obvious that she was gorgeous and far too anxious for her own well-being. Her slide had scattered little facts around her headshot, like how sheβs a New York native straight out of Brooklyn, how she listens to 2010s pop while editing or how her favorite show is Friends along with other quirks of hers that Mack found equally as endearing.
Usually by now, Mack would've been leaned against the window completely knocked out from the game. You could've said it was the accident that made it especially difficult for him to sleep that night or more accurately, his encounter with the opposing team's pretty media girl.Β
He told himself he had no interest in being the Romeo to her Juliet of east and west coast hockey teams, so it wouldnβt hurt just to look her up. Nevertheless, Mack went into the Rangers following typing in Taylor before three accounts popped up. Right at the top of the results was @.taylorsaint with a familiar smile, arms thrown high, sporting an oversized foam finger clearly taken at the Garden.Β
Mack hesitated for a moment before tapping on her profile. To his luck, it wasnβt private, and he was instantly let into her world, a world where her camera was always hanging from her neck and she was carrying lattes almost as big as her head. Taylorβs Instagram was both perfectly curated and equally carefree.Β
Her most recent post was Taylor sitting cross-legged center ice at an empty Madison Square Garden, camera balanced in her lap, the scoreboard glowing behind her pre-warmups. The second was a shot of the Central Park bridge in the winter. Then came a picture of coffee, another of her editing setup at two in the morning, and finally a candid someone else had clearly taken, Taylor laughing so hard she was doubled over in the tunnel, a camera strap wrapped around her wrist. As the carousel came to an end, Macklin couldnβt stop the soft smile that came to his lips.Β
So, he kept scrolling through her life from day in the life reels to hockey, everything circled back to hockey. It was never the players, it was always the job, the subtle behind the scenes that nobody really cared about, yet she found the beauty in.Β
A little after midnight, his green eyes were torn from his phone when the blonde next to him spoke up, βWho are we looking at?βΒ
βNo one.β Mack nearly dropped his phone in his efforts to tilt it away from Will.Β
βDoesnβt seem like a no one,β Will answered, clearly not convinced by his best friend.
βI was, uh, just looking at something.β
βYou were looking at someone.β
"I literally wasn't."
"Mack."
"I wasn't."
βYou were smiling at whatβs her name? Taylor or something, I couldnβt really see that well from here.β
βCan we not,β Mack whisper yelled, yelling, trying not to bring attention to his curiosity.
βWho is she?β Will insisted.
βShe does media for the Rangers.β
βAs in the team that kicked our ass six to one.β
βYeah, sheβs the one from the parking lot, apologizing like she was driving the bus, it was kinda sweet though.β
βSo, youβre stalking her now.β
βI was just curious.β
βSo, follow her.β
βNo,β Macklin sighed. βItβd be weird plus she lives across the country.β
βFine. Don't follow her.β
βI wasn't planning on it.β
He popped another cookie into his mouth.
Mack let out a long sigh before finally locking his phone and slipping it into the pocket of the seat in front of him.
βThere,β he said. βHappy?β
Will looked at the now-dark screen and Mack pulled his hoodie over his eyes, settling deeper into the window seat.
APRIL 2025
Back in New York, things moved swiftly as they do in such a bustling city, April came by in no time, and the incident was well behind her. Well enough behind her after sheβd posted an official statement on the teams behalf outlining the whole event and the part the organization had in it. The statement was practically an apology crafted from her own heart that all but mentioned her name in it. Not to mention that HR had a rather lengthy conversation after her parking lot encounter.
The Rangers were officially out of playoff contention, and their final home game was set in stone for the 24 to 25 season. Taylor had been carefully selecting photos and videos from the season to include in this year's farewell post for the past hour. Her coffee went forgotten and cold beside her computer when her task was interrupted by one of the new communications assistants.Β
"Taylor."
She looked up from her monitor.
"Uh... Rick wants to see you."
"Now?" She frowned.
The assistant nodded in response as she saved her project. She took a deep breath, smoothing the imaginary wrinkles on her shirt before making her way toward the communications offices. To her surprise, her boss was already at his door, ready to greet her.Β
βCome on in, Taylor,β Rick said, unusually flat as he took a seat, completely avoiding her eye contact.Β
She obliged, stepping inside, trying her best to ignore the knot in her stomach. "You wanted to see me?"
"Close the door and take a seat," the older man stated, straightening a file across his desk.
The brunette carefully took her seat, letting the silence deafen her. Her eyes carefully watched his expression crack and sort of deflate beneath her gaze.
"The organization has decided to terminate your employment effective immediately."
"...What?" For a second, she genuinely thought she'd misheard him.
"We're ending your position with the communications department."
"I... I don't understand." She blinked, unable to fathom what she just heard.
Rick silently slid a file across her desk, prompting her to open it.Β
As she opened the file, Taylor was met with fuzzy screenshots that came from an oh-so-familiar video that went viral across hockey socials. There in her hand were photos of her across from Macklin Celebrini over three weeks ago when their bus ruined his car, profusely apologizing. Itβd been long enough that all these accounts were calming down from it, and anyone who did know it was her at the scene mostly forgot about it. But clearly, she thought wrong.
"As you know, there was an incident involving members of another NHL organization following the San Jose Sharks game."Β
βThe bus.β
βYes, the bus,β he began before continuing, "The video has circulated more than we'd like."Β
"I was... apologizing."
"I know that."
"So why am Iβ"
"Because," Rick interrupted quietly, "ownership believes your involvement created unnecessary liability."
Taylor just stared, brows furrowing.βI created liability?"
"They feel as if your actions blurred professional boundaries with opposing players and put heat under our organization. On top of that they believe that your involvement hurt the reputation of our organization as well "
βAll I did was say sorry,β Her voice wavered, trying to come to terms with the decision. βI-I-I even put out a statement across all our socials about it too. I thought it was enough.β
"I argued that." Rick looked genuinely miserable.
"And?"
"And the decision wasn't mine to make."
βSo, thatβs it? Iβm just fired.β
βIβm sorry.β
Her eyes scanned his office, fixed on the hockey memorabilia before landing on the floor. βI never missed a single deadline. Iβve worked past midnight most nights for the last two and a half years, and I canβt even name how many family events I missed just to be here.β
Rick frowned at her words, mumbling an apologetic βI know.β
βI graduated high school a year early because everyone here told me this job would be waiting for me.β
βI wish this conversation were different,β he stated, watching tears prick the corners of her eyes.
Taylor listened to him explain her next steps about returning everything and picking up her final check.Β
Breath still shaky, she finally got up to leave. Rick escorted her out. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, "...thanks for the opportunity."
Rick stood too.
"For what it's worth, Taylor..." She paused at the door.
"...you're one of the hardest workers I've ever managed."
She offered a tiny nod before opening the door, and not even half an hour later, she had a cardboard box balanced on her hip, taking her final looks at Madison Square Garden.
For the first time in her life, she had nowhere she needed to be.
Later that night, Taylor laid in bed surrounded by merchandise and decor from a job that seemingly dumped her to the side. It was almost comical how much this job infiltrated her life.Β
Itβs like God was messing with her when she got a memory notification from her photos. As she clicked on it to see what she was up to a year or two ago, she was met with a sixteen year old Taylor sitting in the goal net right before it was to be taken down. That day still felt like yesterday, where her coworker insisted she take a picture of her to commemorate her first year as a media intern.Β
And for a minute, Taylorβs eyes were locked on the screen. How she nearly fell backwards in the net from laughing too hard, how big Madison Square Garden felt at the time, even how sheβd get lost in her first days. She remembered how she ran to her mother the first time her photos had been posted by the Rangers and how much joy the almost three years of being there brought her.Β
Now it was all over.Β
Β Her eyes stung once again, thumb hovering over the Instagram app for no reason. Taylor wasnβt sure why she opened a blank post, but thereβd been tons of pictures never shared before. The photo dump started with that picture of her in the net, followed by empty arenas, selfies from the press box, and pictures with coworkers turned friends.Β
Then she began typing.Β
βWhen I was 16 years old, I never thought being an intern would eventually land me a media coordinator job in the NHL. This organization took a chance on me and let me grow alongside some of their most loved rookies. For the past almost 3 years, Iβve had the privilege to document some amazing stories and witness history in the making.Β
While this chapter has come to anΒ end, Iβll always be grateful for the opportunities and lessons Iβve learned.Β
Thank you to everyone who trusted me with a camera.Β
MSG will always have a piece of my heart.Β
β€οΈHereβs to the next chapter πβ
It wasnβt bitter or angry, it was goodbye. Before she could change her mind, she pressed share.Β
Notifications of well wishes and good vibes came her way from family, friends, and fans.Β
In California, Mack was stretched across Toffβs couch, mindlessly scrolling Instagram when her post popped up. He hadnβt followed her, but he kept up with her on TikTok and Instagram in what could only be described as discreet stalking.Β
He frowned at her caption, somewhat sorry for the bubbly girl portrayed on her accounts. Mack didnβt have much time to dwell on it before Will and Cat were calling him to the kitchen.Β
βHey, do you guys know if weβre still looking for a new media girl?β
summary: You surprise Macklin with a new tattoo of his name.
CW: Some Fluff, some Smut, tattoos, established relationship.
You stand before the full-length mirror in your bedroom, turning slightly to admire the fresh ink on your ribs. The delicate script reads "Macklin" in elegant cursive, nestled just below your breast. It's still covered with the thin layer of protective film, but you can already see how perfect it looks.
Taking a deep breath, you pull on a loose-fitting tank top that won't irritate the new tattoo. Macklin will be home any minute and your heart races with anticipation and nerves. You've been together for nearly three years now and you know this is the right step, the permanent declaration of your love.
The front door opens, and you hear his familiar footsteps. "Babe? I'm home!"
"In here!" you call out, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in your stomach.
Macklin appears in the doorway, dropping his gym bag by the door. His hair is slightly damp from his post-practice shower and he's wearing that lazy smile that always makes your knees weak.
"Long day?" he asks, crossing the room to wrap his arms around you.
"The longest," you reply, tilting your head up for a kiss. "How was practice?"
"Good," he murmurs against your lips. "Missed you though."
His hands slide down your back and you tense slightly as his fingers brush near your new tattoo.
"You okay?" he asks, pulling back to look at you.
"Perfect," you say, taking his hand. "Actually, I have something to show you."
Leading him to the bedroom, you turn to face him, heart pounding. "Close your eyes."
Macklin raises an eyebrow but complies, a playful grin on his face. "Should I be worried?"
"Not at all," you say softly, lifting your tank top to reveal the fresh tattoo. "Okay, open them."
His eyes flutter open and it takes a moment for him to register what he's seeing. When he does, his jaw drops slightly.
"Is that...?" he breathes, gently reaching out to trace the air above your skin, careful not to touch the sensitive area. "Is that my name?"
You nod, suddenly shy under his intense gaze. "I got it today. I wanted something permanent, something that shows how serious I am about us."
Macklin drops to his knees, his eyes fixed on the tattoo. "Wow," he whispers, looking up at you with awe. "Just... wow."
"Is it okay?" you ask, suddenly nervous. "I know it's a big step..."
"Okay?" he interrupts, standing up to cup your face in his hands. "It's more than okay. It's... I don't even have words."
His eyes are shining with emotion as he leans in to kiss you, deeper and more passionately than usual. When you finally pull apart, you're both breathless.
"I love it," he says firmly. "I love you. I can't believe you did this."
"I love you too," you reply, your heart swelling at his reaction. "That's why I did it."
His gaze drops to the tattoo again, and something shifts in his eyes, desire mixing with the overwhelming emotion you've already witnessed.
"Does it hurt?" he asks, fingers hovering just above the inked skin.
"A little," you admit. "Still tender."
"Let me kiss it better," he murmurs, lowering himself to his knees once more.
Gently, he presses soft kisses around the tattoo, careful not to touch the still-healing skin directly. Each kiss sends shivers through your body and you find your hands tangling in his hair.
"Mack," you breathe, as his lips trail upward.
"Marking you with my name," he growls against your skin. "Making you mine forever."
His hands slide up your thighs and you gasp as his thumbs brush against your core through the thin fabric of your shorts.
"I need to show you how much this means to me," he says, looking up at you with dark eyes. "Need to worship every inch of you."
You nod, unable to form words as he lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying you down gently. His mouth finds yours again, hungry and demanding as his hands explore your body.
"Mine," he murmurs against your lips. "All mine."
Your clothes disappear quickly, his movements urgent but still careful around your new tattoo. When his mouth finally finds your core, you cry out at the contact.
"Mack," you gasp, hands fisting in the sheets.
"Say it again," he demands, tongue flicking against your sensitive flesh. "Say my name."
"Macklin," you moan, as he devours you with an intensity that leaves you breathless.
His fingers join his mouth, pushing you closer to the edge. The combination of his skilled touch and the emotional weight of the day is overwhelming.
"Come for me," he commands, looking up at you with dark eyes. "Come while saying my name."
Your release crashes over you as you cry out his name, your body trembling with pleasure. Macklin doesn't stop, drawing out your orgasm until you're completely spent.
When he finally moves up your body, you're still seeing stars. He enters you slowly, his eyes locked with yours as he fills you completely.
"Feel that?" he asks, voice thick with emotion. "That's how much I love you."
His hips move in a steady rhythm, each thrust pushing you closer to another peak. His name falls from your lips like a prayer as he drives into you, his possessive touches claiming every inch of you.
"Forever," he growls against your ear. "You're stuck with me forever."
"Good," you manage to gasp, as his hand finds your clit. "That's the plan."
Your second orgasm builds quickly, intensified by the emotional connection between you. When you finally fall over the edge, Macklin follows with a deep groan, his release triggering aftershocks of pleasure through your body.
Afterward, he collapses beside you, immediately pulling you into his arms. His fingers trace the edges of your new tattoo gently.
"I'm getting one too," he says suddenly. "Your name. Right here," he adds, touching his chest over his heart.
Tears fill your eyes at his words. "Really?"
"Really," he confirms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "We're permanent. You and me."
mack who's girlfriend is a nutritionist and feeds him WELL, like making sure he has a constant balance of what he needs to stay fit and healthy, and scolding him when he eats too many cheat meals.. π€·ββοΈπ€·ββοΈ
I need help finding a macklin fic ( 2 or 3 parts). They spending some of the summer with readers family and they werenβt allowed to sleep in the same room and the reader had a rude sister in law and was making fun of macklin because he couldnβt sleep without reader. The reader also told the dad that they would just leave because they didnβt get to spend a lot of time together as a couple during the season. After she said that the dad conceded and allowed them to share a room.
If you know the writer or name of the fic, please comment!
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edie's notes : i feel like i'm not funny enough for this lowk... i'm also kinda free styling the plot build up so π€π€ (parts will get longer i promise)
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