saturnsag3

[saturnsag3]

I know he's loud as fuck

[saturnsag3]

pure artistry. cried 50000 times in the span of 3 chapters. highly recommend. obsessed.

[saturnsag3]

Helping Hand - will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: quick psa before you continue: if you don’t like to see/read depictions of mpreg then scroll pls! i’m dipping my toe into writing this so.. idk don’t come for me

wc: 1,545

Macklin was quiet. Which, for a 33-week pregnant man, meant something was wrong.

Will noticed it the moment he walked in the door.

No enthusiastic “you’re home!” greeting from the couch. No pouty guilt-trip for being “gone a decade” (he’d been gone an hour). No dramatic cling to his arm or baby bump shoved into his chest like a cat rubbing up for affection.

Just… silence.

“Mack?” Will called, setting his keys down on the table. “Babe?”

A muffled voice came from the bathroom. “In here.”

Will padded down the hall and gently pushed the door open, expecting to find Macklin hunched over the sink brushing his teeth or sprawled on the bath mat texting him for snacks.

He did not expect to find Mack standing in front of the mirror, T-shirt pushed up to his chest, one hand on the curve of his stomach, eyes locked on his own reflection.

He looked… tired.

And kind of sad.

Will stepped inside. “Hey. What’s going on?”

Macklin blinked, then shrugged like it was nothing. “Nothing. Just… checking myself out, I guess.”

Will approached carefully, reaching out to rest a warm hand on the side of Mack’s belly. “Everything okay?”

Mack gave a dry laugh. “I look like a balloon.”

Will frowned. “You look like my husband.”

“Who’s shaped like a beach ball,” Mack muttered, trying to smooth his shirt back down. Will caught his hand.

“What happened?”

“Nothing happened, I’m just…” Mack hesitated, then sighed. “I saw some new ones today. Stretch marks. They weren’t there yesterday, I swear. And now they’re just… they’re everywhere.” He looked down. “My hips, my sides… even the tops of my thighs.”

Will’s expression softened. “Baby…”

“I know it’s normal,” Mack said quickly, like he wanted to beat Will to the punch. “I know that. It’s what happens when you’re growing a whole human inside you. Doesn’t mean I like it.”

Will gently turned Mack to face him, stepping closer until his chest brushed Mack’s shoulder. “Can I see?”

Mack hesitated. Then slowly tugged his shirt up again.

Will dropped to one knee.

The bathroom lights were warm and soft, casting golden shadows across Macklin’s pale skin. His bump was round and firm, the kind of full, high curve Will had taken to kissing like a prayer every night. And just above his hipbones, along his sides, Will could see them.

Little marks. Faint, pinkish lines. Like silver ripples in the water’s surface. Newer than the older ones—fresh, almost shy in how they curved around him.

Will reached out with careful fingers, brushing the edge of one with his thumb.

Mack twitched. “Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re ugly. And I already feel like a lumpy couch. I don’t need you confirming it.”

Will blinked up at him. “You think I’d ever say that?”

Mack chewed his lip.

Will rose slowly, bringing both hands to Macklin’s waist, thumbs tracing gently over his sides. “You are so beautiful it physically hurts.”

Mack huffed. “You’re such a liar.”

��I’m not,” Will said softly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “You’re carrying our baby. You’ve built a whole person inside you. That’s incredible.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to look like a wrinkled cantaloupe,” Mack muttered.

Will smiled and nudged their foreheads together. “These marks? They’re love notes. Evidence. Proof that your body is doing something superhuman.”

“I didn’t sign up for the stretch mark package.”

“You didn’t sign up for sciatica either, but here we are.”

Mack let out a short, wet laugh.

Will lowered his voice. “Hey. Let me take care of you.”

Macklin blinked, then nodded.

Will kissed his temple, then guided him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, helping him ease down onto the edge of the bed.

“I want you to lie back for a sec, okay?” Will said, kneeling between his legs.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to make you feel loved,” Will replied simply, tugging Mack’s shirt up again. “Starting here.”

His fingers ghosted over the soft stretch of Mack’s skin. Macklin flinched again, but Will didn’t stop—he just moved slower, more reverently, like every inch of his husband's body deserved to be worshiped.

“Will…”

“Shh. Let me.”

He leaned in and kissed the skin just above Mack’s belly button. Then lower. Then to the side, where the newest lines lived.

“You’re glowing,” Will murmured.

“I’m sweaty.”

“You’re radiant,” Will corrected, trailing his lips down the length of a mark like it was a treasured piece of art. “Every single line. Every shift in your skin. It’s all part of this story you’re writing with your body. And I love it.”

Macklin’s eyes fluttered shut.

Will kissed his hipbone and looked up. “Still ugly?”

Mack didn’t answer—he just reached for Will’s hand and squeezed.

—

That night, Macklin was curled on his side in bed, a pillow between his legs and one shoved behind his back. He was clearly uncomfortable, shifting and huffing every few minutes.

Will, shirtless and sleepy, reached over. “You hurting again?”

Mack nodded, gritting his teeth. “Lower back’s killing me. I swear this baby’s sitting on my spine.”

Will sat up. “Okay. Come here.”

Mack looked up. “Where?”

“Stand up. By the edge.”

Macklin obeyed slowly, groaning as he rolled out of bed and got to his feet. Will stood behind him, his chest to Mack’s back, hands resting low on Mack’s belly.

Will slipped his hands under Mack’s bump, gently lifting it up. The relief was instant.

“Ohhh my God,” Mack groaned, leaning back into him. “You’re a wizard. That’s—oh my God, Will. Do notstop.”

Will chuckled, adjusting his hold. “You’ve been carrying all this weight by yourself for hours. Let me help.”

“You’re literally taking like 80 pounds off me. I feel like I can breathe again.”

Will pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “I got you.”

Mack leaned his head back against Will’s shoulder. “Seriously, how do doulas not charge, like, a million dollars an hour for this?”

“Because they’re not lucky enough to be married to you.”

Macklin laughed breathily, arms looping over Will’s. “You should do this more often.”

“I do do this often.”

“Okay, but now you’re getting better at it. Like, what is this—an angle thing? A grip strength thing? Has hockey made you better at husbanding?”

Will smirked against his hair. “Maybe.”

Mack twisted his head around. “Can we stay like this forever?”

Will kissed his cheek. “I’ll hold you as long as you need.”

“I need it a lot.”

“I know,” Will said warmly. “And I love that you do.”

Macklin turned fully in his arms, bump pressing against Will’s middle, and leaned their foreheads together again.

“You really don’t mind?” he asked quietly. “The clinginess? The stretch marks? The whining? Me crying because we ran out of cherry popsicles yesterday?”

Will brushed a thumb across Macklin’s jaw. “I’m in love with every version of you. But this one? The one who’s creating our baby and still somehow managing to be the funniest, softest, most beautiful person I know? This one has me totally ruined.”

Mack grinned and bit his lip. “You’re so whipped.”

“I am,” Will agreed. “Completely.”

They stood there for a while—swaying slightly, wrapped up in each other, with nothing but the sound of the city humming outside their window and the soft rhythmic thump of their baby kicking between them.

Will held the bump. Macklin held Will. And there was no fear or insecurity strong enough to break the way they fit together.

Only love.

And a really excellent bump-lift.

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: tell me if we hate it guys 🥲

[saturnsag3]

I Could Do Better - will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: will’s a pining best friend and macklin’s oblivious with a boyfriend he hates (warning! slight angst)

wc: 1,401

It was close to midnight when Macklin dropped onto Will’s couch like gravity had finally caught up with him. He looked wrecked—hoodie half-zipped, curls flattened from a hoodie hood he hadn’t taken off all day, jaw tight. He didn’t say anything for a full minute, just sat there hunched forward, elbows on knees, fidgeting with the drawstring of his sweatshirt.

Will handed him a Gatorade wordlessly and took the spot beside him, curling one leg under the other. The low buzz of a playoff game hummed from the TV, but neither of them was really watching.

“So,” Will said eventually. “Jake?”

Mack gave him a half-hearted glare. “Don’t start.”

Will raised a hand in mock surrender. “Didn’t say a word. Just—checking.”

Mack cracked the Gatorade open and took a long sip. “He’s just… I don’t know.”

“That’s descriptive.”

“He’s annoying,” Mack admitted, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I mean, not objectively. He’s not like— evil. He just does this thing with his voice when he’s trying to be charming and it makes me want to drown myself.”

Will snorted. “That bad, huh?”

“He called me ‘baby boy’ in a non-sexy way.”

Will winced. “Yikes.”

“And then he said ‘jk’ after. Like he was texting. Out loud.”

Will full-on cackled. “No.”

“I swear to god.” Mack shook his head. “I think I just—I keep trying to convince myself it’s going somewhere, but it’s not. Every time I see him I feel like I’m waiting for it to click, and it just… never does.”

Will hummed quietly, watching Mack out of the corner of his eye. “Then why keep seeing him?”

Mack shrugged. “Because it’s something. And sometimes something feels better than nothing.”

Will didn’t say anything to that. He couldn’t. Because if he opened his mouth, the truth might fall out—and he wasn’t ready for that.

Mack pulled his legs up onto the couch and sat cross-legged, head resting against the back cushion. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Will said. “It’s human.”

They sat in silence for a beat. Mack reached for the remote, muted the TV, then leaned into the quiet.

“And…” he added, almost too softly, “he’s kind of shit in bed.”

Will looked over, surprised. “Seriously?”

Mack’s face was pink, but he didn’t take it back. “I don’t know. He’s not bad, I guess. Just... lazy. Like he’s trying to check a box. And don’t even get me started on the fingering situation.”

Will blinked. “There’s a fingering situation?”

“One time,” Mack said. “He tried it, it lasted like thirty seconds, and he wouldn’t stop asking if he was doing it right. Like I’m supposed to give Yelp reviews mid-session.”

Will bit back a laugh. “How generous of him.”

“I think he Googled it.”

Will did laugh at that. “Was the first result ‘How to disappoint your boyfriend in under a minute’?”

Mack groaned, but he was smiling now. “He’s not even my boyfriend. We’ve never made it official.”

Will’s smile faded a little, but he kept his voice light. “So what is he?”

Mack paused. “I don’t know. A placeholder, maybe.”

The words hung in the air longer than they should’ve.

Will looked down at his hands. “You deserve more than that.”

“I know.”

“You should be with someone who knows how to touch you,” Will said, his voice low now, almost too low. “How to.. to take care of you. Someone who pays attention. Who listens.”

Mack blinked slowly, like he wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Will didn’t clarify. He couldn’t. Not when Mack was still tangled up with some other guy—some guy who didn’t even see him. Not when Will’s own feelings had been folded and tucked away for months, years maybe, too fragile to say out loud.

So instead he smiled, that casual, easy grin he’d learned to weaponize. “Just saying, if I were you, I’d raise the bar a little.”

Mack raised an eyebrow. “You giving me dating advice now?”

Will shrugged. “Someone’s gotta.”

Mack tilted his head. “And what would you do differently?”

Will hesitated. “If it were me?”

Mack nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Will leaned back into the couch, letting his head tip against the cushions, gaze fixed on the ceiling like the answer might be scribbled up there. He could feel Macklin watching him, and it made his skin hum, that awareness, that quiet weight of being seen even in silence.

“If it were me..”Will said finally, voice low and slow like he was choosing each word from a burning deck of cards, “I wouldn’t be checking my phone mid-makeout. I wouldn’t call you anything that sounds like a failed Tumblr username. And I definitely wouldn’t treat sex like it’s an obligation.”

Mack made a soft, skeptical noise beside him, something like a laugh but with a hitch in it. “That’s a low bar.”

Will glanced over, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Yeah, well. We’re apparently living in the limbo of men who say ‘jk’ after trying to seduce you, so I feel like even the floor’s not low enough.”

Macklin snorted. “God, you really hate him.”

“I don’t even know him,” Will said, too quickly, before amending, “I just know what you look like when you’re happy. And you don’t look like that when you talk about him.”

That shut Macklin up.

For a minute, anyway.

He fiddled with the hem of his hoodie, quiet, lips twitching like he wanted to say something but was trying to decide how reckless to be.

Finally: “You’re kind of dangerous when you’re honest.”

Will raised a brow, amused. “Yeah?”

“You say things like you’re joking… but they don’t feel like jokes.”

Will’s smile was faint, crooked. “And what if I said that’s the only way I know how to say real things without—ruining everything?”

Macklin didn’t answer that. Just looked at him. And that look—open, curious, almost soft—made Will’s chest squeeze like someone had reached in and wrung it out.

Will tried to defuse it, leaned forward and grabbed a throw pillow, hugging it to his chest like a barrier. “I’d make sure you never felt like a placeholder. That’s what I’d do differently.”

Mack pressed his mouth into a line, eyes dropping to the Gatorade cap he was spinning between his fingers.

“And,” Will added, because he couldn’t help himself, “I’d absolutely Google better fingering techniques.”

That earned him a sharp laugh, sudden and barked out before Macklin could help it. He nudged Will’s knee with his own, mock-offended. “You’re an idiot.”

Will grinned, wide and easy. “A well-informed idiot.”

Mack shook his head, but he was still smiling, just a little. “You’re so annoying .”

“But at least I listen,” Will said quietly.

That brought silence again—real silence, the kind that crackled with unsaid things. Will didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. The weight of it all—the what-ifs and almosts and too-easies—was pressing too hard on his chest.

Eventually, Macklin exhaled and leaned sideways until his head was resting on Will’s shoulder, soft and warm and maybe a little bit sleepy. “You always do,” he murmured. “That’s kind of the problem.”

Will didn’t ask what he meant. He just let him stay there, let the room go quiet except for the muted buzz of the TV and the soft rustle of Mack’s sweatshirt when he shifted closer.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t say anything more.

Just stayed still, letting his pulse roar in his ears and trying not to think too hard about how easy it was to fall in love with someone who trusted you enough to fall asleep on your shoulder.

There was time.

There was always time.

Wasn’t there?

So he sat there, heartbeat steady, gaze locked on the flicker of the TV screen. Mack’s breath evened out beside him.

And Will, quietly, desperately, stayed.

Just a little longer.

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: sigh forever oblivious, i really loved writing this and i hope you guys enjoyed!

[saturnsag3]

You’re not even listening - will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: mack’s rambling self and will being obsessed with him

wc: 1,170

Will was sitting on Macklin’s bed, hoodie sleeves shoved up to his elbows, legs sprawled out and his back against the headboard. His phone was in his lap, but he hadn’t looked at it in fifteen minutes.

Because Macklin was pacing.

And rambling.

And being unintentionally hot about it.

“…I mean, like—okay—if you're gonna switch shifts with someone, at least let me know in advance,” Mack was saying, hands flailing for emphasis as he walked across the room again. “Don't just text me at 7 a.m. like ‘hey can you cover tonight?’ when you knew you had plans for three days. It's inconsiderate. And I know he’s dating Bree now and thinks his time is precious or whatever, but—dude. You're not the only person with a life.”

Will made a soft sound that might’ve been agreement, but honestly?

He hadn’t heard more than a word or two.

He was too busy watching Mack’s mouth.

The way his lips moved when he got heated. The way they curled around his really emphatic words. The way they puffed out when he stopped to breathe, or when he paused just long enough to collect the next complaint.

Will’s jaw was propped on his hand, elbow resting on his knee, just quietly observing this entire show while his heart did backflips. He loved when Macklin talked like this — when he got all worked up and dramatic over something completely inconsequential. Will used to think it was funny.

Now he just thought it was hot.

“I swear,” Mack continued, walking back to the dresser to grab his water bottle, “if I get roped into covering one more shift because someone can’t manage their own schedule, I’m gonna lose it. Like, I don’t care that you have a dinner reservation or a concert or whatever—if you’re not responsible enough to find coverage ahead of time, don’t make it my problem. I already worked Saturday. And Sunday. And literally every fucking day except Wednesday. That’s not even—like—legal. Or moral. Or whatever.”

Will’s lips twitched into a smile. Mack had no idea. None. He was still pacing, still talking, his t-shirt riding up just the tiniest bit with every step and his cheeks faintly pink from the heat in the room.

Will leaned back against the headboard again and blinked slowly, watching him like he was watching something sacred. Like the way Macklin talked, moved, lived was somehow all meant for him.

“And then—then!—he has the audacity to be like, ‘you looked chill today, so I figured you wouldn’t mind.’ I—looked—chill? What does that even mean? How does someone look chill? I had headphones in. That doesn’t mean I’m available, it means don’t talk to me. I—Will?”

Will blinked. Mack had stopped moving. He was standing there with one hip leaned against the dresser and his brows pulled together in a cute little crease. “You’re not even listening.”

“I am,” Will said, lips curling.

Mack squinted at him. “No, you’re not. You’re looking at me like I just sprouted two heads.”

Will’s voice was low, casual. “You do this thing with your mouth when you get worked up.”

Mack blinked. “What?”

“That little—” Will gestured vaguely with his fingers. “You like… bite your bottom lip for a second? And then your nose scrunches? And your mouth moves kinda fast when you’re mad, and it’s—” He stopped, gave a helpless little laugh. “I dunno. It’s hot.”

Mack’s face turned bright pink. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re literally making stuff up to distract from the fact that you weren’t listening to anything I just said.”

Will shrugged. “I heard enough. Jeremy sucks. He owes you a smoothie and like ten hours of sleep.”

“Will.”

Will just looked at him.

And Macklin opened his mouth like he was about to launch into another paragraph of outrage.

But he didn’t get the chance.

Because Will stood, slow and calm and steady, and crossed the room in three long strides.

And then, without so much as a warning, he grabbed Macklin’s face and kissed him.

Mack made a soft, startled sound — hands fluttering at his sides like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. His lips parted in surprise, just enough for Will to deepen the kiss, one hand sliding around to cup the back of Mack’s neck, the other settling gently at his waist.

It was a kiss that said shut up, but also please keep talking forever.

It was messy and warm and so full of feeling that it made Macklin dizzy.

When Will finally pulled back — just barely — Mack’s eyes were wide and dazed. “What… what was that for?”

Will didn’t answer right away. He just smiled, leaning his forehead against Mack’s. “You were ranting.”

“I was talking.”

“And I was enjoying every second of it.”

Mack’s hands finally found purchase in the front of Will’s hoodie, tugging him closer. “You’re annoying.”

“I’m obsessed with you,” Will said simply.

Mack blushed deeper breaking eye contact. “That’s… whatever.”

Will kissed him again, lighter this time. “You love it, baby”

“I hate it,” Mack whispered, smiling against his lips.

“No, you don’t.”

Mack kissed him back.

And when Will pulled him into a proper hug, warm and tight and full of everything unsaid, Macklin sighed into his shoulder and whispered, “You still owe me an apology for not listening.”

Will grinned. “I’ll kiss it out of you later.”

Mack rolled his eyes. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” Will murmured, kissing his jaw, “here you are. Still talking to me.”

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: the ongoing saga of will’s infatuation with macklins face, im also gonna update that masterlist soon, bare with me and i hope you guys enjoyed!

[saturnsag3]

Break time - will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: macklins overworking himself and will has a remedy for that

wc: 1,104

Will found him exactly where he’d left him eight hours ago: hunched over the tiny desk shoved against the wall of Will’s apartment, hoodie sleeves rolled to his elbows, surrounded by a chaos of open textbooks, highlighters, and a coffee that hadn’t been touched in at least three hours.

“Mack,” Will said softly from the doorway, voice barely above a murmur.

Macklin didn’t look up. He scribbled something, flipped a page, blinked slowly like his eyes were burning. “Hmm?”

Will crossed the room in three steps, crouched behind the desk, and rested his arms on top of Macklin’s slouched shoulders. “You’ve been at this all day.”

“I have two exams next week,” Macklin muttered. “And a quiz tomorrow. And I still haven’t finished that clinical write-up. I can’t stop yet.”

“You haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“I had coffee.”

“That’s not food, baby.”

Will leaned forward and dropped a kiss to the curve where Macklin’s neck met his shoulder. Mack twitched, but still didn’t stop writing.

“I’ll eat when I finish this section—”

Will kissed him again, this time just beneath his jaw. “Or…” he murmured against Macklin’s skin, “you could let me bribe you into bed.”

Macklin snorted. “Is that a real offer or are you just trying to distract me?”

“I’m a man of my word,” Will said solemnly. “Bed. Pillows. Me. My arms. Wrapped around you. Optional back rub. Minimum three forehead kisses. Maybe even a snack. I don’t know. Depends how fast you move.”

Macklin turned his head just slightly, just enough to glance at him out of the corner of his eye. “I look like I’ve been hit by a truck, don’t I?”

“You look beautiful,” Will said immediately, tightening his arms around Macklin’s shoulders. “Tired. And beautiful. Like the hottest little med student this school’s ever seen.”

“You’re the worst,” Mack muttered, but he leaned into the touch anyway.

“Come on,” Will coaxed. “Just for a bit. You need a break.”

“I can’t—”

“Okay,” Will interrupted gently, mouth brushing Mack’s temple now. “Then how about this. Just come lie down. No sleeping, no stopping, no giving in. Just… ten minutes. Let me hold you. Breathe a little. You can go back to your flashcards right after.”

Macklin didn’t answer right away. His pen hovered above the paper, the ink bleeding slightly from where it rested. After a moment, he let out a breath. “Ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes,” Will repeated, already pressing another kiss into the side of his neck. “And I’ll carry you if I have to.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“True,” Will said with a grin. “But you love it.”

“I do,” Mack admitted with a tiny smile.

Will stood and offered his hand. Mack took it.

---

In the bedroom, Will didn’t waste time. He tugged Macklin’s hoodie off carefully, helped him into one of his own soft T-shirts — the one Mack always borrowed — and then guided him onto the bed.

The lights were off, the room dim and warm. Will slid in behind him, spooning Mack from behind, wrapping an arm tight across his chest.

“Comfy?” he whispered into Macklin’s hair.

Mack hummed.

Will reached down and gently rubbed at Macklin’s wrist, thumb circling. “Proud of you,” he said softly. “You’re working so hard.”

“It feels like I’m drowning half the time,” Mack admitted, voice barely audible.

“I know,” Will said. “But you keep swimming. And that’s what makes you amazing.”

Macklin didn’t reply, just shifted closer, head tucked against Will’s shoulder now.

Will pressed a kiss to the shell of his ear, then another to his hairline. “I’m not letting you do this alone, okay? I’m here. Always.”

“I know,” Mack whispered. “You always take care of me.”

Will smiled and cupped Macklin’s side. “And I’ll keep doing it. Especially when you get so deep into study mode you forget your own name.”

“I didn’t forget my name.”

“Baby, I asked you what day it was earlier and you said ‘clinical pathology.’”

Macklin laughed, soft and sleepy. “It’s a valid answer.”

Will kissed his cheek. “Mm-hmm. And tomorrow you’re not studying until you eat breakfast. Real breakfast. Not coffee.”

“Fine.”

“Pancakes?”

“You’re bribing me again.”

Will nuzzled into his hair. “You love my bribes.”

“I won’t admit that.”

They lay in silence for a little while, just warmth and breath and the thrum of calm between them.

Eventually, Macklin’s fingers found Will’s hand and curled around it.

“Don’t let me stay up like that again,” he murmured.

“I won’t.”

“Even if I argue?”

“Especially then.”

Will kissed the corner of his mouth and tightened his hold. “Now close your eyes, baby. Ten minutes.”

“Five,” Mack whispered.

Will didn’t argue. Because within three minutes, Macklin was already asleep — soft breaths, relaxed jaw, tension finally unwound.

---

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: i hope u guys enjoyed!!

[saturnsag3]

Let Me Fix It - will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: part 2 to this

wc: 1,278

Will barely slept.

He’d driven around aimlessly for hours, thinking. Regretting. Replaying every moment of the night—every time Macklin had reached for him, every time he’d brushed him off without meaning to. And that last look on Mack’s face—the way his voice broke when he said “I was so excited to be on your arm tonight, and you made me feel like I was in the way.”

It haunted Will.

He’d pulled into a 24-hour diner around 3 a.m., stared at a plate of cold eggs, and finally went home. To his place. Not theirs. He barely could change out of his tux.

By 8 a.m., he was parked in front of Macklin’s apartment again. He hadn’t shaved. His eyes were bloodshot. His heart hadn’t stopped pounding all night.

He knocked. Twice. Lightly. Then harder.

No answer.

He knocked again, then called. No answer.

Will rested his forehead against the doorframe and whispered, “Mack, please. I know I don’t deserve it right now, but… just let me in, baby. Let me talk to you.”

A pause.

Then, finally, the click of the lock.

Macklin opened the door—barefoot, hair messy, oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder. His eyes were swollen, lashes still damp.

Will's heart cracked clean in two.

“I’m not in the mood,” Mack said softly, trying to close the door.

Will caught it with his hand.

“Then I’ll talk,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to say anything. Just—just listen. Please.”

Mack hesitated.

Then stepped back and let the door swing open.

Will walked in slowly, turning to face him in the entryway.

“I’m sorry,” Will said immediately. “I mean—really sorry. I know that doesn’t fix anything, but I have to start there. I messed up last night. I know I did.”

Mack didn’t say anything, arms folded across his chest.

“I saw it in your face, and I still kept fucking up,” Will said, voice cracking. “I was so wrapped up in impressing those people, in playing the part, that I didn’t even realize I was pushing you into the background. And you’re not background. You never have been.”

Mack’s eyes dropped, jaw tight.

Will took a step closer. “You looked so beautiful last night. Like, I couldn’t stop staring when you walked out of the room. But I didn’t show you that. I didn’t act like it. And that’s what kills me.”

“I felt invisible,” Macklin said quietly.

“I know,” Will whispered. “And I hate that I made you feel that way. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Mack. And last night—I treated you like an accessory. I hate myself for it.”

He stepped closer, eyes searching Macklin’s.

“I’m so in love with you it makes me stupid sometimes. Like, full-on dumbass. But I’ve never been more aware of it than I am right now, standing here after nearly losing you over my own bullshit.”

Mack blinked fast, eyes glassing over again.

Will swallowed hard. “You wanted to be proud to be on my arm last night? Mack, I’ve been braggingabout you since the day we met. I just didn’t know how to do it in a room full of suits without making it sound like some weird trophy thing. But I messed up. I messed up by not centering you. And that’s what you deserved. To be seen. To be appreciated .”

He moved even closer now, gently touching Mack’s elbow. When Macklin didn’t pull away, Will reached up to cup his jaw.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Will said again, voice raw. “Please tell me what I need to do to fix it. I’ll do anything. I’ll go back in time and introduce you like you’re the sun and moon and every star in my sky. Because that’s what you are.”

Macklin sniffled, still quiet, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

Will’s eyes softened. “I love you. And I want to spend every day making you feel like the most important person in the world. Because you are. Not just when we’re alone. But always.”

Mack exhaled slowly.

“You were a dick,” he muttered.

Will nodded quickly. “Absolute, 100% certified douchebag.”

“You made me cry.”

“I will never forgive myself for that either.”

Mack paused. Then looked up at him, eyes still red but softer now. “I felt stupid for caring.”

Will shook his head, pulling him into a hug so gentle it was practically reverent. “You weren’t stupid. I was. For not seeing what was right in front of me.”

He pressed a kiss to Macklin’s forehead. “Forgive me?”

Mack hesitated. Then sighed. “I want to.”

Will lit up. “Then do it. Please. I’ll grovel. I’ll cry. I’ll write a handwritten letter for every minute I ignored you last night.”

“You’d better.”

“I will.”

Will started pressing quick, fluttering kisses to Macklin’s face—cheeks, temples, jaw, nose—between every word.

“I.” kiss “Am.” kiss “So.” kiss “Fucking.” kiss “Sorry.” kiss “Baby.”

Mack finally laughed, tearful and tired but real.

“You’re ridiculous,” he mumbled.

“I’m yours,” Will said, voice full of promise. Then—grinning—he grabbed Mack by the waist and lifted him off the floor in a sudden, sweeping hug.

Mack shrieked. “Put me down!”

“Never again,” Will murmured, spinning them slightly in the entryway. “Not until I’ve made it up to you a hundred times over.”

Macklin clung to his shoulders, smiling through the last of his tears.

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: part 2 for you guys, i hope it lived up to expectations!

[saturnsag3]

i read your username as saturn-sag-three and now i cant stop doing it :( love the lil fics btw. very entertaining to read 👍

LMAO and thank you friend i’m happy you like my fics <3

[saturnsag3]

posting i think three fics tonight guys!

[saturnsag3]

in desperate want of rancid willmack recs rn. like give me dirtbag!will, internalised homophobia and ryan leonard haunting the narrative I BEGA

erase me series by @saturnsag3 is toxic situation ship if you wanna try that!

(im....soft hearted i avoid toxic relationships and the like, like the plague sorry anon 😅)

[saturnsag3]

In My Suit and Tie - will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: will takes macklin to a frat fundraiser (warning: angst!)

wc: 2,539

The fundraiser was crowded, loud, and suffocatingly formal.

It was supposed to be a big night—an annual gala-style event hosted by Delta Tau Phi to raise money for Greek Life scholarships. The hall was rented out downtown, transformed with string lights and linen-draped tables, servers walking around with trays of champagne flutes, and a live string quartet tucked into the corner doing orchestral covers of Top 40 songs.

It should have felt special. But all Macklin could think was: God, this isn’t me.

He adjusted the sleeve of his slim-cut tuxedo jacket for the hundredth time, shifting from foot to foot in his polished (too tight) dress shoes. His shirt was a soft, cream satin button-down—barely buttoned, a little sheer, and tucked neatly into tailored black slacks that hugged him just right. It was elegant. Sexy, even. He’d spent hours getting ready for this. Hours choosing the perfect outfit. Hours imagining the look on Will’s face when he saw him.

And Will had looked. Had whistled low, pulled Mack in for a kiss and said, “You’re gonna make me lose focus tonight.”

But that had been in the apartment.

Now? Now Will was gone.

Well—not gone, exactly. Just swallowed.

Swallowed by the crowd. By the suits and the handshakes and the money. By the image of himself that he projected so flawlessly—president of the frat, star of the hockey team, local celebrity among frat alumni and university donors alike. He wore a sleek navy tux, hair slicked back, black tie sharp. And he belonged here. Moved through the room like it had been built around him. Every smile looked rehearsed. Every laugh landed.

And Macklin, trailing behind in designer shoes and soft lips, felt like nothing more than a prop.

He stood near the bar, sipping champagne and letting it burn on the way down. Kept checking his phone, not because anyone was texting him—but because it gave his hands something to do.

He watched Will light up with laughter, surrounded by a circle of older men in tuxedos and younger ones in suits with open collars and frat pins. Will was telling a story—hands animated, grin wide—and Mack knew it was that story. The one he always told about the overtime goal against BU. The one that made everyone fawn over him.

Macklin took a breath and walked toward the circle. Lightly touched Will’s arm.

“Hey, babe, I was just gonna—”

Will didn’t even glance at him. “Hang on, babe,” he muttered, holding up a finger. “Almost done.”

Macklin froze mid-sentence. Just like that, dismissed.

He stepped back. Pretended to sip his drink again.

Okay. Fine. Not the right moment.

Ten minutes passed.

Mack tried again, this time reaching for Will’s hand under the table where they sat for dinner, thinking maybe, Maybe he’s just distracted. Maybe I’m being too sensitive.

“Will,” he said quietly, “do you wanna maybe—”

“Just a sec,” Will said again, this time without even turning his head, eyes still locked on the guy across from him who was retelling some frat formal horror story that Mack had also never been invited to.

The third time, Will just leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Mack’s temple before going right back to schmoozing. “You look hot tonight,” he said absently. “Love you.”

Macklin blinked, holding his fork in midair. He felt his stomach turn.

It didn’t matter how good he looked. Or that Will had asked him to come. Or that Mack had turned down a weekend with his friends just to be here tonight, standing at Will’s side like they were some polished power couple.

He wasn’t at Will’s side.

He was behind him. Always behind him.

Decorative. Silent.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of noise. Wine glasses clinking, laughter booming, Will’s hand absently resting on Mack’s lower back when they walked—but never holding his hand. Never turning to let Mack be part of the conversation.

And then came the moment that shattered him.

Some donor had made a joke—something dumb, something about how all the hockey guys had “model partners” these days.

Will had laughed. “Yeah, this is Macklin,” he’d said with a little shrug, arm still slung around Mack’s waist. “He’s, y’know. My guy.”

My guy.

That was it.

Not boyfriend. Not partner. Not “the love of my life,” like he’d said in private a hundred times. Just my guy.

Macklin froze. Felt the words like a slap. Heard them echo and twist inside his chest.

My guy.

A footnote.

Someone across the table gave him a polite smile. Mack smiled back through the sting in his eyes. Nodded like he wasn’t seconds from unraveling.

And after that—he went quiet.

No more reaching out. No more brushing Will’s arm or trying to catch his eye.

He sat through the speeches. Clapped politely. Drank his champagne.

But he didn’t speak.

Not even when Will leaned in to whisper, “You okay, baby?”

Mack just nodded. Lips tight. Heart heavy.

And Will didn’t notice. Because he was too busy basking in his spotlight, unaware that Macklin had slipped out of it completely.

At least, not until they got in the car.

The ride back was dead silent.

Not the peaceful kind. The tense kind. The kind that buzzed under Macklin’s skin like a warning. He stared hard out the passenger window, arms folded tight across his chest, lips pressed in a line, his reflection flickering against the passing streetlights. His jaw was clenched so tight it hurt.

Will didn’t seem to catch on—at first.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, humming quietly along to the muted trap beat thumping through the car’s speakers. It wasn’t even that loud, but it felt like a goddamn siren to Macklin.

"You okay?" Will asked eventually, glancing over as he slowed to make a turn.

No answer.

Will tried again. “You mad or something?”

Still nothing.

He gave a half-laugh, like he thought maybe he could joke his way out of whatever was going on. “What, are you mad I didn’t get you another drink? You didn’t even finish the last one, baby.”

That was it.

“You didn’t even look at me all night,” Macklin snapped, voice low and brittle.

Will blinked, visibly caught off guard.

Mack still didn’t turn to face him. He kept his eyes forward, but his voice was sharp, each word thrown like a dagger. “Every time I tried to talk to you, you shushed me. Told me to wait like I was some annoying little kid begging for attention.”

“That’s not—” Will started, but Mack cut him off.

“You didn’t even introduce me like I mattered. You said I was your guy.” He finally turned now, and his eyes were glassy. “Like I was a pet. Or a—fuck—I don’t even know. I felt like a prop, Will.”

Will’s hands tightened around the wheel, knuckles going white. “Mack, come on. It was a formal event. A fundraiser. I was networking, talking to alumni—”

“You were showing me off!” Macklin’s voice cracked then, emotion pushing through, raw and shaking. “Like I was just there to look pretty. Smile when someone complimented you. Shut up when you were talking.”

Will flinched at that.

“I tried to be there with you, Will. To support you. And you couldn’t even look at me long enough to remember I was a person, not just something on your arm.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Will said quickly, but it was too fast, too defensive.

And Macklin’s laugh was bitter. “God, that’s what you always say when I bring this stuff up. That I’m being dramatic. Or sensitive. Or whatever excuse keeps you from actually hearing me.”

“I didn’t mean—” Will started.

Mack shook his head. “No. Don’t. Just… don’t.”

They pulled up in front of Macklin’s apartment. Will threw the car into park but didn’t move to turn it off.

The silence was suffocating now.

Will glanced over, brows furrowed. “Okay. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you felt like that—”

“That’s the problem,” Macklin said, finally looking at him, tears slipping quietly down his cheeks. “You never realize. You never fucking see me unless it’s convenient.”

“Mack…” Will reached out, but Mack pulled back like he’d been burned.

“No. Don’t touch me.”

Will froze, hand halfway across the console. “Baby…”

“Will.” Mack’s voice broke completely, a sob catching in the back of his throat as he turned away again, wiping his cheeks with the sleeve of his suit. “I spent all night trying to feel like I belonged next to you, and you made me feel like I didn’t even exist.”

Macklin’s voice trembled now, and when he spoke again, it was quieter—almost like it was just for himself.

“I spent two hours getting ready tonight,” he said, blinking through tears. “I tried on three different outfits. Did my hair twice. I put on that lip gloss you said tasted good. I was excited, Will. I was so fucking excited to be in your world for a night. To meet the people you talk about. To see what it’s like.”

His voice cracked again, and this time he didn’t try to hide it.

“I wanted to be someone you were proud to have with you. And the second we walked through the door, I realized I was just… background.”

Will’s heart sank. “Mack, baby—”

He sniffed, wiping his cheek quickly.

“I was so excited to be on your arm tonight,” he whispered, “and you made me feel like I was in the way.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Will sat completely still, the weight of every careless gesture, every dismissive glance crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

“I just…” Mack shook his head slowly. “I can’t do this with you tonight.”

Will reached across the console, slow, like he could still fix it. “Please, just let me—”

Mack flinched back. “Just stop..”

Will’s hand dropped, useless in his lap.

Mack looked out the window again, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “I need space, Will. I need… I need to be alone.”

Will opened his mouth, but no words came.

“Please,” Mack whispered. “Just go.”

So Will did.

He watched Macklin get out of the car with his arms crossed tight, like he was holding himself together with sheer force of will. He watched the front door close behind him. And then he sat in the dark car alone, surrounded by the echoes of what he’d missed, and the love he might’ve just pushed too far away.

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: an anon requested angst so i just combined it with another ask about fratboy!will, very sad sigh but it’s what i do best and i really like how it came out, i hope u guys enjoyed (but not too much) <33

[saturnsag3]

do i smell willmack…?? anyone with me?

[saturnsag3]

Cowboy - will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: based on this post

wc: 1,573

The only thing louder than the honking traffic outside Columbia University’s wrought-iron gates was Macklin’s heartbeat.

He stood awkwardly in the back of his 9 a.m. creative writing seminar, clutching a worn-out notebook and wearing a hoodie that still smelled faintly like bonfire smoke and his dad’s garage. The room was already half full, and most people seemed to know each other. A girl in the front row laughed too loud at something a guy whispered to her, and Mack felt a familiar pressure in his chest.

He didn’t belong here.

Not in this frigid city where people moved too fast and never made eye contact. Not in classrooms where everyone spoke like they were auditioning for NPR. Not even in this chair, the legs uneven, his boots too muddy-looking for a room this pristine.

Back home in Tallahassee, he was known as the smart kid who fixed tractors on weekends and graduated valedictorian. Here? He was just another full-scholarship freshman trying to survive.

“Seat taken?”

Mack looked up, startled. A guy was standing next to him—tall, grinning, cocky in the way that made Macklin's stomach twist with nerves. He had a Columbia varsity jacket thrown over a hoodie and a backpack that looked like it cost more than Mack’s first car.

“No,” Macklin mumbled, scooting over.

“Nice.” The guy dropped into the seat beside him with the easy confidence of someone used to taking up space. “I’m Will.”

Mack gave a hesitant nod. “Macklin.”

“Cool name. Is it like...Scandinavian or something?”

Mack shrugged. “Don’t know. Just my name.”

Will laughed. “Fair enough.”

There was a pause, and then Mack opened his notebook, hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

No such luck.

Will leaned over. “You a freshman?”

Mack nodded.

“Thought so. You’ve got the ‘new deer in the city’ look.” Will grinned like it was charming, not embarrassing. “Don’t worry, it fades after, like, six months.”

Macklin snorted before he could stop himself. It came out quiet, but Will caught it anyway.

“There we go,” Will said, pleased. “I knew there was a person under that hoodie.”

Mack looked down quickly. He wasn’t used to being teased. Not like this. Not by someone who seemed…cool.

“So where you from, Macklin?” Will asked as the professor walked in.

“Tallahassee.”

“Florida?”

Macklin gave him a look that said obviously.

Will smiled again. “That explains the boots.”

Mack didn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth tugged up. Just a little.

---

By week two, Will was waiting for Mack outside of class.

It became a routine—class at nine, followed by a walk to the coffee cart on 116th and Amsterdam, then ten minutes of banter while Will drank his latte and Mack drank…nothing. (He hated coffee. Will insisted this was a crime.)

“You ever gonna let me buy you something?” Will asked one morning, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as they stood on the sidewalk, steam rising from his cup.

Mack shook his head. “You keep offering, and I keep saying no.”

“Yeah, but what if I just show up with something one day? Like…a hot chocolate. With extra whipped cream. And those little marshmallows.”

Mack raised an eyebrow. “That’s oddly specific.”

“I’ve been doing research. You seem like a marshmallow guy.”

Macklin rolled his eyes, but he was smiling now. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You like it.”

He kind of did.

---

Will talked a lot. About the city, about the hockey team, about his friends who were all “insane but in a good way,” and about his childhood growing up in Queens. Macklin listened. Quietly. Sometimes he’d offer a story about fixing engines with his uncle or how his dog used to chase chickens. Will ate those stories up like they were rare delicacies.

“You know you’re, like, incredibly fascinating, right?” Will said once as they sat on the Low Steps after class.

“I’m not.”

“You are. You talk like you don’t think people want to hear you, but when you do? It’s always something I couldn’t make up if I tried.”

Macklin looked away, cheeks warm. “You’re weird.”

Will grinned. “Takes one to know one.”

---

By March, the city started to thaw.

So did Mack.

They weren’t dating, not officially. But Will texted him good morning every day. Mack had started saving the little paper flowers Will folded for him out of napkins and receipts. They studied together. Sometimes they didn’t say anything at all. Mack would bring his laptop to Will’s dorm and sit on the floor while Will played music and tapped away at his own assignments.

“You’re the only person I know who actually focuses during study sessions,” Will said one night, upside down on the bed.

“That’s because I can’t afford not to.”

Will blinked. “Mack—”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Mack cut in quickly. “Just…I gotta make this count, you know?”

Will sat up. “You already are.”

Mack looked at him. Really looked at him. The wild curls falling onto his face, the soft eyes that somehow always knew when Mack needed space, or noise, or just someone to sit close by.

He didn’t say anything. But he smiled. And Will smiled back.

---

It was April when it finally happened.

They were walking through Riverside Park, half by accident. Mack had gotten turned around, and Will had teased him for not using Google Maps.

“It’s just trees and paths,” Mack argued.

“Exactly,” Will said. “You’re in my city now, cowboy.”

Mack shoved him lightly. “I could out-walk you.”

Will stopped. Turned to face him. “You can try.”

And then he kissed him.

It wasn’t loud or dramatic. It was soft and a little awkward, and Macklin was so startled he didn’t kiss back right away.

But then he did.

And he didn’t want to stop.

---

They sat on a park bench after, knees bumping, silence stretching out like warm sunlight.

“I didn’t want to make things weird,” Will said finally.

“You didn’t.”

Will glanced at him. “You sure?”

Mack nodded. “Just didn’t think you…wanted that.”

Will laughed under his breath. “Macklin. I’ve wanted that since the day you corrected the professor about Hemingway and then tried to disappear into your notebook.”

Macklin flushed. “That was my second day.”

“Still counts.”

---

They weren’t loud about it. Macklin wasn’t built for loud.

But Will didn’t mind. He held Mack’s hand under tables, texted him dumb memes in the middle of the night, made sure Mack had snacks before every exam. Mack fixed the zipper on Will’s jacket, taught him how to spot deer tracks when Will took him upstate for a weekend with the team, and started drinking hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.

By the end of the semester, Columbia didn’t feel so cold anymore.

And neither did Macklin.

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: i think this was so so so cute like i can’t i love them omg, i hope u guys enjoyed as much as i did writing this !!

[saturnsag3]

I love your writing so much!! May I request country boy Mack and city boy Will?

i’m sorry to this anon that this took me so long but i realized i had an unfinished draft for this and i’m actually obsessed with how it turned out so

posting shortly!!!

[saturnsag3]

They’ll Know - will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: jealous will this time, will runs into macklins ex bf and doesn’t handle it well

wc: 1,211

The mall was packed, weekend energy buzzing through every store and hallway. Will and Macklin strolled side by side, shoulders brushing. Will had one shopping bag looped around his wrist and his other hand securely placed on Macklin’s waist, thumb stroking in lazy circles over the hem of his sweatshirt.

They weren’t in any rush—just wandering, maybe looking for a new hoodie for Will, maybe grabbing overpriced smoothies. It was easy, normal, domestic. Will liked it that way.

Until it wasn’t.

“Macklin?”

The voice stopped them both in their tracks. Will turned his head just slightly—but Macklin fully paused, spine straightening. A guy stood a few feet away near a storefront, casual but clearly surprised. His hair was messily perfect, like it took time to look that effortless. His smile was too familiar.

Nick.

Will’s jaw tightened on instinct.

“Oh—hey,” Macklin said, his tone flickering somewhere between polite and unsure. “Wow. It’s been a while.”

Nick smiled wider, stepping closer. “It really has. You look good.”

Will’s arm didn’t move, if anything pulling Macklin in a little closer. Possessive, protective. His eyes flicked over Nick like a threat assessment.

Nick’s gaze shifted to Will, then back to Macklin. “This your…?”

Will beat Macklin to it. “Boyfriend. Will.”

Nick offered his hand, and Will took it for a second too long before letting go.

“Nick,” he said with a nod.

“Oh, yeah,” Will said casually, eyes cool. “I’ve heard.”

Macklin gave him a light nudge, like a warning, but Will didn’t drop the slight edge in his expression. Nick didn’t seem to notice—or pretended not to.

“Crazy seeing you here,” Nick said to Macklin. “Didn’t think you were still in the city.”

“Yeah, still here. Still doing school. Working at the library, too,” Macklin replied, his tone polite, conversational. Like this was fine. Like it didn’t matter.

Will’s hand tightened a fraction on his waist.

“I’m out by Midtown now,” Nick said. “Doing some freelance stuff, mostly graphic design. It’s been—what, two years?”

“Something like that,” Macklin said, shifting slightly.

Will was quiet, eyes pinned to Nick like he was daring him to say something else. Macklin could practically feel the heat rolling off him.

“Still like vintage hoodies?” Nick asked, gesturing to the one Macklin had on.

Macklin laughed, awkward. “Some things don’t change.”

Will’s gaze didn’t waver.

Nick seemed to notice the tension now, stepping back slightly. “Well… guess I’ll let you two get back to your day. Good seeing you, Mack.”

“You too,” Macklin said quickly, giving a small wave as Nick turned and disappeared into the crowd.

The silence between them lingered.

Will didn’t speak until Nick was completely out of sight. “That was him?”

Macklin looked up at him. “Yeah.”

“Didn’t realize you had a type,” Will muttered, eyes still narrowed like he could chase Nick down in the crowd and make him regret ever speaking.

Macklin raised an eyebrow. “What, emotionally unavailable with perfect hair?”

Will gave a tight grin, not quite amused. “Yeah. That.”

Macklin tugged at the hem of Will’s hoodie to pull him closer, eyes soft. “Relax. You’ve got me now.”

“Damn right I do,” Will said, low and serious.

And from that point on, Will did not let go.

Not once.

The rest of the afternoon turned into a whole new level of clingy. Normally, Will liked to keep things light—flirty touches, teasing smirks, quick kisses tucked into quiet corners of their day. But today? Today he was a walking PSA for “Back Off, He’s Taken.”

In every store, Will’s hand was somewhere on Macklin—an arm around his shoulders, fingers threaded through his belt loops, or spread wide across his lower back. Even while Mack was holding up clothes in front of the mirror, Will stood behind him with his chin hooked over Macklin’s shoulder like a human anchor.

Macklin raised an amused eyebrow at one point while they browsed through a Levi’s store. “You planning to surgically attach yourself to me?”

Will didn’t blink. “Thinking about it.”

Mack snorted. “You do realize I dated him, not proposed to him, right?”

“Still don’t like his face.”

Macklin rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything when Will slid both arms around his waist and kissed the side of his neck right there in the middle of the men’s section. Or when Will laced their fingers together tightly as they waited in line at the smoothie place, brushing his lips over Mack’s knuckles like they were alone.

Macklin didn’t say a word when they sat down on a bench, and Will pulled him into his lap like he needed to prove something to the entire food court.

“Okay, seriously,” Macklin mumbled against Will’s cheek, trying not to laugh. “You’ve kissed me like twelve times since we left the bookstore.”

“nineteen and counting,” Will said, grinning as he pressed another one to Macklin’s jaw.

“You jealous or just publicly in love with me?”

“Both,” Will answered immediately.

Macklin smiled despite himself and leaned in. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re mine,” Will said, his hand splayed over Macklin’s stomach, firm and warm and possessive. “So yeah. People can look. But they’ll know.”

Macklin just shook his head and let himself be held.

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: these were so fun to write and i hope you guys enjoyed!

[saturnsag3]

Like No Other - will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: jealous macklin 🤭

wc: 2,271

The sun was beginning its slow descent, casting a honeyed glow over the waves as they lapped gently against the shoreline. A breeze tugged playfully at umbrellas and tossed the scent of salt and sunscreen through the air. Most people had started packing up for the evening, but Will and Macklin still lay sprawled on their shared towel, stretched out in the middle of their tiny oasis of snacks, bags, and half-melted sunscreen.

Macklin had headed back to the car ten minutes ago—grumbling as he went—because Will had forgotten his portable charger. Again.

“You’re literally attached to your phone at all times,” Mack had said with a shake of his head, bare feet kicking sand up with every step as he trekked back toward the lot. “And you bring it down here with 20% battery. Incredible.”

Will had just grinned lazily from his spot on the towel, not bothering to argue. He’d adjusted his sunglasses and tilted his head back, basking like a cat in the sun.

Which is exactly what he was doing when she approached.

He noticed her out of the corner of his eye—tall, tan, long blonde hair swept into a braid that looked perfectly effortless. She had the kind of confidence that wasn’t shy about walking up to a stranger, and Will knew trouble when he saw it.

“Hey,” she said brightly, already bending slightly to shield her eyes from the sun, her voice loud over the sound of the ocean. “Sorry to bother, but are you from around here?”

Will sat up, instantly wary but polite. “Sort of. Um— my boyfriend is. Why?”

She laughed—high, soft, intentional. “Oh, I was just gonna ask where the boardwalk is, but—boyfriend, huh?” Her eyes swept him in a way that felt less curious and more calculated. “That’s surprising.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

She smiled, all teeth. “You just don’t seem the type.”

“What type is that?” Will asked, not smiling back.

“You know,” she said vaguely, “not that it matters. I’m Lila.”

Will nodded once. “Will.”

“You have Instagram, Will?”

He blinked. Straight to Instagram?

Before he could respond, a familiar voice cut through the breeze like a knife through butter.

“Hey,” Macklin called, sauntering down the sand with the charger in one hand and a plastic cup of iced tea in the other. His sunglasses were pushed up on his head, eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the scene in front of him. “Found your charger.”

Will sat up straighter immediately, relief practically rolling off him. “You’re my hero.”

Macklin stopped at the edge of the towel, clocking the girl—Lila—and the way she was standing a little too close. His eyes flicked to Will, who gave him the most helpless save me look he could manage behind his sunglasses.

Lila turned. “Oh. Hi. I didn’t realize—”

“That he was taken?” Macklin said smoothly, offering her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he handed Will the charger. “Yeah, a lot of people don’t realize. He forgets to walk around with a flashing sign.”

Will let out a quiet snort and reached up to tug Macklin down beside him on the towel. The moment Mack was seated, Will wrapped an arm around his waist and rested his chin on Macklin’s shoulder, fully leaning into the casual possessiveness he knew would do all the talking.

Lila blinked. “We were just talking.”

“Sure,” Mack said, voice light. “That’s what I do when I want directions too. Ask about Instagram.”

Will coughed into his shoulder to hide the sound of his laughter.

Lila shifted her weight. “Well. I guess I’ll go find the boardwalk, then.”

“You do that,” Mack said, reaching over to adjust Will’s curls with a gentleness that didn’t match the steel in his voice.

She turned and walked away quickly.

Will watched her go, then turned to Mack with a grin. “Baby, that was—”

“Possessive? Rude? Mean?” Mack offered, setting the charger down between them.

“I was gonna say hot, actually.”

Macklin rolled his eyes, but there was a faint pink coloring his cheeks. “She was trying to flirt with you, Will.”

“I know,” Will said, and then leaned in to kiss Mack’s jaw, slow and deliberate. “And I told her I had a boyfriend.”

“You hesitated,” Macklin teased.

Will gasped. “I did not! And you weren’t even close enough to hear.”

“You did a little,” Mack said smugly, letting Will wrap both arms around his middle.

“I was trying to remember if I had a boyfriend or a husband,” Will murmured. “We’re married already in my head.”

Mack couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as he leaned back into Will’s chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re mine,” Will said simply, nuzzling into the side of his neck. “People need to know.”

They sat like that for a while, quiet and warm and tucked into each other like puzzle pieces. Eventually, the sun dipped lower, and they packed up their things—Will’s hand never straying too far from Macklin’s waist, their fingers brushing constantly.

But the clinginess didn’t stop there.

In the parking lot, Will opened the passenger door for Macklin with an exaggerated bow. “For my brave charger-fetcher.”

“Chivalry’s not dead, I guess,” Mack said, shaking his head as he got in.

“Not when it comes to you,” Will said, voice low and sure, like it wasn’t even up for debate. When they pulled into the parking lot Will leaned across the center console and kissed Macklin’s cheek before climbing out of the car.

Macklin followed him upstairs without saying much, just trailing behind as they got to their apartment. He dropped his bag by the front door, kicked off his shoes, and threw himself onto the couch like gravity had suddenly increased by tenfold. Hoodie sleeves tugged over his hands, hood half-up, phone out but not really looking at it—every bit of him curled in on itself.

Will noticed. Of course he did.

He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed as he watched the pout forming on Macklin’s face like an actual storm cloud. “Seriously?”

“I’m fine,” Mack muttered.

Will raised a brow. “This your new definition of ‘fine’?”

“I said I’m fine,” he repeated, barely above a grumble.

Will didn’t argue. He just grabbed two waters from the fridge and padded over, collapsing onto the couch beside Mack. He handed over a bottle without a word. Mack took it with a sigh.

They sat in silence for a minute, just the soft hum of the fridge and the occasional buzz of a notification from Macklin’s phone filling the space.

Then, finally, Mack muttered, “She was pretty.”

Will didn’t say anything. Not at first.

“And she totally wanted you.”

Still no reply.

“She kept flipping her hair and biting her lip, and, like… okay, that whole thing where she said you ‘don’t look like the type’—what was that?”

Will turned his head to look at him.

“She was looking at you like you were a damn—”

And that was as far as Macklin got.

Will reached out, grabbed the front of Mack’s hoodie, and tugged him in. No warning. No preamble. Just kissed him hard, completely cutting off whatever jealous spiral Macklin had been winding himself into.

Mack let out a muffled noise of surprise, hands fluttering up to Will’s chest before melting like butter into the kiss. Will didn’t let up—his hands cupped Macklin’s jaw, thumbs brushing under his cheekbones as he tilted his head and kissed him like it was the only language he knew. Like this was the answer to every ridiculous little doubt Mack had.

And maybe it was.

Mack tried to pull back once. “Will, I—”

Will kissed him again.

“Okay, but—”

Another kiss.

“Seriously—”

This time, Will kissed him until the rest of the sentence evaporated right off Mack’s tongue. Then he leaned in closer, lips brushing just under Mack’s jaw, warm and whisper-soft. Macklin’s breath hitched.

Will only said, low against his neck, “No one else gets this. No one else will ever have this.”

Macklin’s fingers curled in the fabric of Will’s T-shirt, still clutching like he needed the reminder to stay grounded. “You could’ve just said that.”

Will smirked, kissing the side of his face now. “Nah. I prefer shutting you up like that.”

Mack gave a begrudging, almost-laughing huff and let Will pull him fully into his lap. Will’s arms wrapped around him like a cage and a comfort all at once, one hand rubbing up and down Mack’s spine as his mouth continued its slow, sweet campaign against every trace of lingering insecurity.

“You’re such an asshole,” Macklin mumbled against Will’s shoulder, but he wasn’t going anywhere. “A stupidly charming, stupidly hot, stupid asshole.”

“Uh huh,” Will murmured, smiling into his neck. “Say it again. I like it when you pout.”

Mack smacked his shoulder lightly but didn’t move an inch. Instead, he tucked his face under Will’s chin, breathing him in.

Will rubbed slow circles into the small of his back. “Feel better?”

“…Maybe.”

Will kissed his hair. “Good. Stay here and let me love you ‘til you forget why you were jealous of someone who couldn’t hold a candle to you.”

Macklin didn’t argue with that. Didn’t even try.

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: i’m also posting a jealous will fic in a second so yay! hope u guys enjoyed <3

[saturnsag3]

Study Buddy - will smith x macklin celebrini

summary: this isn’t in the same universe as my other nerd!mack x frat!will blurb but sort of the same vibe

wc: 3,367

The thing about college was—well, okay, there were a lot of things about college that Will Smith didn’t like. Early classes, walking uphill in the snow, overpriced textbooks he never cracked open. But right now, the biggest thing was Statistics 2104.

He didn’t care about z-scores or regression models. Didn’t care about T-tests or p-values or whatever fresh hell was on this week’s quiz. What he did care about was the fact that his coach had just benched him until his grade went up.

“You’re a leader on this team, Smith,” Coach had said, pacing his office like he was delivering a TED Talk on discipline. “You want to play Friday? Show me you can pass your damn class.”

So here he was, sitting in Professor Delaney’s office with an empty water bottle, an even emptier brain, and just enough charm left in the tank to try and convince her not to ruin his life.

She peered at him over her glasses. “Will, you’ve failed the last two quizzes. Your attendance is spotty. Your last submitted assignment—” she held up a stapled packet with what looked like red blood all over it, “—was missing three of the assigned pages and cited TikTok as a source.”

Will cleared his throat. “Technically, it was on the STEM tab so—“

“I’m assigning you a tutor,” she cut him off. “You don’t get a say in it.”

“I wasn’t gonna argue,” he said quickly. “Actually, I—yeah. No. A tutor sounds... great. Productive. Go team.”

She raised a brow. “Macklin Celebrini. Pre-med. One of my top students.”

Will sat up straighter. The name sounded familiar—he was pretty sure they shared a row in lecture.

“The guy who sits across from me?” he asked. “Dark hair, kind of quiet?”

Delaney nodded. “That’s the one. He already agreed to help you.”

Will exhaled, half in relief, half in... something else. He didn’t know Macklin, not really, but he’d noticed him. Always early, always prepared, the kind of student who probably had color-coded notes and didn’t miss a single lecture. The kind of student Will needed if he was going to survive this class.

“Okay,” he said. “Yeah. I can work with that.”

Delaney didn’t smile. “Library. Four o’clock. Don’t waste his time.”

---

Will was late.

Not by much—five minutes, tops—but enough that he had to jog the last stretch to the library and burst through the glass doors like he was arriving at a frat party instead of a study session. His hoodie was half-zipped, one earbud still in, sunglasses perched cockily on his head like he hadn’t realized they were indoors now. The tail-end of someone’s coffee order announcement trailed behind him as he spotted the table near the back.

There he was.

Macklin Celebrini.

No laptop screen could hide the fact that he was objectively good-looking, and unfortunately for Will’s ability to focus, the kid looked way too composed for someone voluntarily hanging out with a failing jock. His brown, straight hair sat fluffy and light on his head, a single AirPod sat idle on the table next to his tea, and his notes were already spread out in neat rows—highlighters uncapped, stats textbook open, a few post-its stuck to the top margin.

One of them read: WILL, in sharp, all-caps pen.

Will pointed as he slid into the seat across from him. “You made me a place card? That’s kinda cute.”

Macklin didn’t look up right away. “I wasn’t sure if you’d show up, so I figured I’d at least get something useful out of this and work on labeling things.”

Will grinned. “You label your friends?”

“We’re not friends.” Macklin replied flatly.

Ouch.

Will put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Damn. Cold start.”

“I’m not here to warm you up,” Macklin said, flipping a page in his notebook. “I’m here to help you not fail. So let’s focus.”

Will leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm, eyes very much not on the textbook. “I’m focused.”

Macklin didn’t look up, but his pen paused mid-sentence. “Staring at me doesn’t count as focusing.”

“I disagree,” Will said smoothly. “You’re clearly the smartest guy in this room, so I figure if I just absorb your aura or whatever, I’ll magically learn the difference between a mode and a median.”

Macklin exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “You’re literally going to fail.”

Will shrugged. “Not if I have you.”

That got him a look. Macklin finally glanced up, slow and measured, eyes scanning over Will like he was solving for X and the answer was deeply disappointing. “Flirting won’t fix your GPA.”

“Is it flirting if I’m just being honest?” Will shot back, smirking. “You’re kind of famous on campus, you know. Pre-med, full ride, on first-name basis with every professor. You walk like you’ve got somewhere more important to be.”

Macklin blinked once, then turned his laptop so the screen faced Will. “Do you know what a mean is?”

Will smiled, unbothered. “You don’t have to be so mean about it.”

Macklin didn’t so much as twitch. “Wow. A stats pun. That’s original.”

“You wound me, Mack.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“See, this is going well already,” Will said, propping his feet on the empty chair next to him. “I’ve learned your name and a boundary. Next time we might even get to standard deviation.”

Macklin closed his notebook, slow and deliberate. “You’ve been here seven minutes and you haven’t absorbed a single number.”

“I’ve absorbed plenty,” Will said, eyes very obviously dropping to Macklin’s hands. “Mostly visual.”

Macklin’s jaw flexed. “You know this isn’t a date, right?”

“Yet,” Will said, and winked.

It earned him silence. Not shocked silence—just the kind that came from someone who was very used to being hit on and very used to not caring.

Still, Will thought he saw it—just the slightest twitch at the corner of Macklin’s mouth. Not a smile. Definitely not. But something... almost amused. Almost.

“I’ll quiz you,” Macklin said finally, turning the notebook back to himself. “If you fail, we’re moving to the basement study rooms where there’s no one to perform for.”

Will’s smile widened. “So you are looking at me.”

Macklin didn’t look up. “One more word and I start charging you by the minute.”

“So, the mean,” Macklin began, tapping his pen against the textbook like he was trying to summon patience from its pages. “Is the average. You just add all the numbers and divide by how many there are.”

Will didn’t respond.

Macklin glanced up. “Will.”

Will was already looking at him—had been, actually, this whole time. Chin still in his hand, elbow on the table, eyes dragging unapologetically over Macklin’s face like it was more interesting than anything numbers had to offer.

“What?” Will asked, all faux-innocence.

“You’re not listening.”

“I am listening,” Will protested, straightening up a little. “Mean equals average. Add, divide, boom. Got it.”

Macklin narrowed his eyes. “Then give me the mean of these five numbers.”

He scribbled them down on a post-it and slid it across the table.

Will didn’t even glance at it. “I’ll calculate it if you smile.”

Macklin blinked. “Excuse me?”

“One smile,” Will said. “Just a little one. Then I’ll do the math.”

“I’m not a vending machine. You don’t insert charm and get expressions back.”

“Worth a try.”

Will leaned over the table, reaching for Macklin’s pen. His fingers brushed Macklin’s knuckles—on purpose—and lingered just a half-second too long before he pulled the pen back and uncapped it with his teeth.

Macklin stared at him. “You have your own pens.”

“But yours looks smarter.”

“That’s not how pens work.”

“It is when you use them,” Will said smoothly.

Macklin said nothing, just looked vaguely toward the ceiling like he was regretting every life choice that led him to this exact moment.

Will finally looked at the post-it. “Okay, so—five numbers. Add them. Divide. Easy.”

“Not if you take forever doing it.”

Will pretended to scribble something down, then paused and looked up again. “You smell good, by the way.”

Macklin’s pen froze mid-word. “What?”

“Didn’t think you’d be the type,” Will continued, leaning back and drumming his fingers against the table. “But it’s subtle. Clean. Like—you just did laundry and read for pleasure.”

Macklin blinked. “What does reading for pleasure even smell like?”

“Vanilla and rubbing alcohol.”

“...Are you high?”

Will grinned. “No, but you’re starting to sound like my type.”

Macklin huffed and looked back at his notes. “I’m not your type.”

Will tilted his head, genuinely curious. “How do you know that?”

“Because I know you.”

That gave Will pause.

Macklin didn’t look up when he said it—didn’t act like he’d dropped a bomb or anything—but the words hung there, heavy and real.

“You know of me,” Will said slowly.

“I know you,” Macklin said again, more evenly this time. “Will Smith. Greek life king. Wing night champion. Campus hockey god. Very good at pretending nothing matters until it suddenly does.”

Will stared at him, surprised.

“And now that your season’s on the line, here you are. Failing statistics, flirting with your tutor instead of learning the material.”

Will opened his mouth, closed it, then leaned forward again—this time more serious, less performative.

“Okay,” he said. “That was... a little hot.”

Macklin rolled his eyes, but there was definite color rising in his cheeks now, high and pink and fast.

“You’re exhausting,” Macklin muttered.

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Do you ever stop?” he asked, flipping a page aggressively.

Will tapped his pen against the table. “You could make me.”

Macklin gave him a long look. “How?”

Will leaned in again, close enough to make Macklin’s shoulders go stiff.

“Tell me to stop and mean it,” Will said, voice low.

Macklin didn’t answer right away. For a second, he just stared, expression unreadable.

“Do the math problem, Will.”

Will smirked. “What if I get it wrong on purpose so you’ll yell at me again?”

“I swear to God—”

“I like when you’re mean to me,” Will said, smug.

“Try me again and I’ll make you do flashcards,” Macklin threatened, standing his ground.

Will put both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. No need for violence.”

He finally leaned back and actually looked at the numbers this time. Macklin watched him from the corner of his eye, like he didn’t trust him to even attempt the problem without saying something ridiculous.

Will scratched something down. “So the mean is... 12.6?”

Macklin blinked. “That’s actually correct.”

Will lit up like a kid who just got goldfish and a sticker. “Look at us! Learning and bonding.”

Macklin just shook his head, but his mouth twitched again—almost smiling, almost giving in.

Will leaned across the table again, sliding Macklin’s pen back toward him with two fingers. “You’re really good at this, by the way.”

“Tutoring?”

“No. Looking unimpressed. It’s hot.”

“Jesus Christ,” Macklin muttered.

Will grinned. “You’re thinking about smiling, I know it.”

“I’m thinking about faking a medical emergency so I can leave.”

Will leaned in once more, voice dropped low, like a secret. “Just so you know... you already make stats my favorite subject.”

Macklin didn’t respond. But  when he looked up, there was a definite smile tugging at the corner of his mouth—and he didn’t even try to fight it.

---

By their third session, Will had stopped pretending he hated statistics.

Not because he liked it but because he liked the way Macklin’s expression twitched every time he said something just dumb enough to be funny. He liked how Macklin always showed up early, already halfway through a green tea and flipping through his meticulously highlighted notes like he hadn't spent the last two hours prepping for a tutoring session he claimed not to care about.

Will noticed everything.

The way Macklin tapped his pen against the side of his mug when he was thinking. The way he curled his hand protectively over his notes when Will leaned too close. The way he tried very hard not to laugh whenever Will made some inappropriate joke about frequency distributions and one-night stands.

It was slow—painfully slow—but Macklin was cracking.

Just a little.

It started with the eye rolls. Then the muttered "You're impossible"’s. Then, the fifth session in, Will made some dumb pun about regression and Macklin actually laughed. Like, a real, startled huff of a laugh that caught both of them off guard.

Will had blinked at him. “Was that a giggle?”

Macklin had gone red instantly. “Shut up.”

So of course Will spent the rest of the session trying to make him do it again.

He started taking the tutoring slightly more seriously—not enough to stop flirting, obviously, but enough that Macklin stopped threatening to quit every ten minutes. Will showed up (mostly) on time. He answered practice questions with slightly less whining. He even—once—brought Macklin a green tea before he could get one himself.

Macklin stared at it like it was poison.

“You memorized my order?” he asked, flatly.

Will grinned. “What can I say? I’m observant. Also, the barista said you go there so often they thought you lived upstairs.”

Macklin tried not to smile, and failed.

“Don’t read into this,” he warned, taking the cup anyway.

Will just leaned back in his chair, laced his hands behind his head, and said, “Too late.”

Their sessions kept going like that: Will making jokes, Macklin pretending not to like them. Macklin explaining concepts, Will interrupting every five minutes to ask why he smelled like vanilla and pain suppression. Somehow, amidst all the chaos, Will’s test scores climbed. Not by much, but enough.

And Macklin... stopped acting like he hated being there.

He didn’t say it, of course. Would probably deny it if Will ever asked. But he didn’t flinch when Will leaned in close anymore. Didn’t move his hand when Will’s brushed his under the table. Didn’t sigh as loud when Will texted him outside of tutoring hours.

In fact, by week four, Macklin texted him first.

Just once.

Just a curt: bring your notes this time. and try not to smell like gym bag + cologne. see you at 4.

Will had smiled at his phone like an idiot for a full ten minutes after that.

---

Will practically burst into the library like he’d just scored the game-winner in double overtime. He didn’t even try to hide the shit-eating grin on his face, practically jogging over to their usual table with a paper clutched in his hand and his backwards cap hanging off one ear.

Macklin didn’t even look up. “If you’re about to show me a meme, I’m leaving.”

Will slapped the graded exam onto the table like it was a trophy. “Seventy-seven.”

That got Macklin’s attention.

He blinked. Then again. “Out of... a hundred?”

Will snorted. “No, Macklin, out of a thousand.”

Macklin’s brows shot up. He leaned forward, snatching the test and scanning it like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Wait—this is actually... wow.”

Will beamed, obnoxiously proud. “Say it.”

Macklin frowned. “Say what?”

“Say I’m a genius.”

“You got a C.”

“A strong C,” Will corrected. “A C with ambition.”

And then—just for a second—Macklin actually smiled.

It was quick, and it wasn’t cocky or sarcastic or tight-lipped. It was genuine. His whole face lit up, eyes crinkling, like he couldn’t stop it even if he tried.

Will saw it.

“You’re proud of me,” Will said, voice sing-songy.

“I’m—no.”

“You are.”

“It’s just—” Macklin floundered, pushing the paper back across the table like it had burned him. “I didn’t think you’d break 70, so... congratulations, I guess.”

Will leaned his elbows on the table and tilted his head. “That was dangerously close to a compliment.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Will smirked. “Too late.”

Macklin tried to recover, but his ears were pink, and he was avoiding eye contact like the test score had personally offended him.

Will, of course, couldn’t leave it there.

“So,” he said, stretching casually. “What happens if I get an 80 on the next one?”

Macklin raised an eyebrow, wary. “You get a slightly better grade.”

Will shook his head. “No, no. I mean, what happens between us.”

Macklin blinked, already regretting everything. “Nothing happens between us.”

Will gave him the look. “You smiled when I said ‘77.’ That was basically second base.”

Macklin rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Will leaned forward, grinning. “If I get an 80 on our next test, you have to let me take you out.”

Macklin stared.

Will held up a hand. “No games. Just one date. Could be coffee. Could be dinner. Could be that weird farmer’s market you pretend not to like even though I saw reusable tote bags in your car.”

“You went through my car?”

“I didn’t go through it. I walked past it. Noticed things. I’m observant.”

“You’re annoying.”

“And yet you keep tutoring me.”

Macklin hesitated. He was quiet for a second too long, and Will knew he was considering it. Like, actually weighing the pros and cons of Will asking him out.

Finally, Macklin sighed, slow and dramatic.

“Fine,” he said. “Deal.”

Will blinked. “Wait. Seriously?”

“If—and I mean if—you get an 80 or higher.”

“Oh, I will.”

“But—” Macklin added, holding up a finger. “Rules.”

Will grinned. “Lay ‘em on me.”

“One: no bragging to your friends. Two: it’s not a date, it’s a hang out. And three: if you’re late, I walk.”

Will laughed. “That’s... actually reasonable.”

Macklin shook his head, but he was smiling again—smaller this time, secretive. Like part of him really did want Will to get that 80.

Will sat back, already plotting flashcards and study sessions and possibly bribing the professor (kidding—kind of).

“Better clear your schedule, Macklin,” he said, eyes bright with promise. “I’ve never wanted an 80 more in my life.”

sages thoughts⋆˙⟡: i love this dynamic so much and if you guys want you can send me requests for them, i hope u enjoyed!!