untilwefind

[untilwefind]

happy lil home town kid!

[untilwefind]

Sneak peek at Chapter 9 of Brother, Best Friend, Boyfriend, Bane of My Existence

This chapter is a monster and I'm so excited for it so I had to share a little snippet🩵

Chapter Summary: Six days of Christmas chaos, movie marathons, and sneaky touches under fleece blankets. Mack is trying to keep it together, Will is determined to ruin him with affection, and the World Juniors are just around the corner—Team USA vs Team Canada, with Mack stuck loving both.

Catch up here if you haven't read Chapter 8: Draft Day yet!

Mack is lying diagonally across his bed, wrapped in two blankets, aggressively scrolling TikTok at light speed, ignoring the way his stomach has been in knots since Will walked in looking like that.

Dark jeans that fit him too well. That stupid forrest green button-down that hugs his shoulders. His hair still damp from a shower, curling perfectly at the edges of his neck. And, of course, he smells incredible. Like cedar and clean laundry and whatever pheromone-drenched cologne he insists he doesn’t wear. Mack wants to punch a wall and then crawl into Will’s lap about it.

Instead, he’s doom-scrolling TikTok and pretending the green bubbling in his gut isn’t jealousy. Or longing. Or both. He can’t even follow the videos, just flips through them in a blur of music and motion, stewing in the knowledge that Will’s about to go out looking like that and leave him behind like a tragic, underage housewife.

“Mackie,” Will tries, voice sweet.

“Go away,” Mack mumbles, not even looking up. “You have plans with your real boyfriend tonight. Don't let me stop you.”

Will edges inside like Mack’s a wounded woodland creature. “You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re fuming.”

“I said I’m not mad. I’m just—whatever. You and Aiden go have your little hockey bro bar crawl and I’ll be here. In my bed. In my blankets. Not pouting. Not jealous. Not imagining you with some giggling blonde whose name is probably Maddi with an i.”

Will snorts. “There’s definitely a Maddi at every bar.”

“Exactly. Go marry her. See if I care.”

Will shuts the door behind him with a soft click and launches himself onto the bed like it’s a trampoline. The bounce jostles Mack violently, but he doesn’t react. Just pulls the blanket higher.

“Mackie,” Will whines, crawling over him. “Don’t be like this.”

“I’m fine.”

Will nosedives into his cheek. “You’re not fine.”

“I am,” Mack replies, still not looking at him, thumb now aggressively stabbing at the screen. “Why would I be mad? You’re going out with Aiden. You're gonna get drinks, hit up the bar, be all charming and tall and legal. Have a great time.”

Will sighs. “You’re pouting.”

Mack grunts, unmoved.

Will kisses the tip of his nose sweetly. “You’re know you're my favourite person on this planet.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m tragic and underage.”

Will kisses both cheeks, then the corner of his mouth. “You’re tragic and gorgeous and cuddly and mine.”

“You’re leaving me,” Mack accuses, still tragically unmoved.

“I’m going out for a few hours.”

“I could die.”

Will drops all the way onto Mack, chest to chest, arms tucked under his back. “Then I’ll never forgive myself. But I have to go or Aiden will key my car.”

“Good.”

“You know I’d rather stay in with you.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

Will kisses him full on the mouth now. Slow, indulgent, with a sigh that makes Mack melt against him despite himself. Will keeps going, mouth trailing down to his jaw, behind his ear, whispering, “You’re so hot when you’re irrational.”

Mack’s fingers curl in the back of Will’s shirt. “You smell really good.”

“I know. You can sniff me when I get home.”

“Not the same.”

Another kiss. Another. Will’s halfway to pinning him.

The door slams open with a startling bang.

Aiden.

"Fucksake, Smitty," Aiden groans, stepping into the room in his puffer, clearly ready to go. “We said nine. It's nine-fifteen."

Will doesn’t lift his head. “I’m working on something over here, Celly.”

Aiden takes in the scene. Mack entirely blanketed except for his flushed face, Will draped on top of him like a weighted blanket. Aiden makes a face. “Are you seriously being held hostage by your ball and chain again?”

“Excuse me?” Mack scowls.

Will throws an arm around Mack’s shoulder and grins at Aiden. “I’m trying to calm down my very reasonable boyfriend who’s feeling a little left out.”

“I’m not left out,” Mack mutters. “I’m legally barred.”

“I can see that. We're gonna miss two for one shots because you're letting him cling like a koala.”

Mack immediately wraps all limbs around Will like challenge accepted.

Will laughs, shoulders shaking. “Okay, that’s fair.”

Aiden glares. “Let's. Fucking. Go.”

Will attempts to slide off the edge but Mack goes limp like a toddler, hanging off him with legs hooked around his hips.

“Oh my god,” Aiden says. “You’re actually wearing him.”

"Mackie," Will says with mock seriousness. "Release."

Mack falls back onto the bed, letting go of Will with a huff. Will reaches up and cups his face in one hand, thumb pressing into one side and his other fingers squishing in the other, mushing Mack’s face until his lips pucker out like a grumpy little fish.

“Oh my god,” Will whispers, gleeful. “You’re so cute when you sulk.”

“Stowwwpp,” Mack slurs through squished lips, batting at Will’s arm, cheeks heating as Will leans in and presses tiny, exaggerated kisses to his fishy pout. One. Then two. Then three, each one making Mack squirm a little harder beneath him.

Will’s shoulders are shaking with laughter. “This is what you get for being a brat.”

“You’re annoying,” Mack mumbles, though it’s hard to sound convincing when your boyfriend is kissing the life out of your puffed-up cheeks and you’re lowkey melting into the mattress beneath him.

Aiden groans. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” Will says, finally detangling himself, but not before squishing Mack’s cheeks again and planting one last kiss to his now thoroughly kiss flushed lips. “Love you.”

Mack just sighs and hides in his neck for a second, breath hot. “Have fun,” he mutters, soft and grudging. “Come back to me quick.”

“Don’t wait up,” Will says gently.

“You know I will anyway,” Mack murmurs.

[untilwefind]

ok but what do y'all know about the extended version

im so confused by the dynamics of this team...

thats not....

(source)

[untilwefind]

Two words for you: fuckass shoes

[untilwefind]

Turnabout

Prompt credits @sleepy-hyperfixations: i was thinking....abt omega will who's never liked being submissive or breed-able with alpha mack who craves to be submissive and breed-able

The thing is, Will’s never liked being reminded what he is.

He didn’t like it when his first coach called him “soft” for flinching at a hit at thirteen. Didn’t like it when people found out he was an omega and suddenly started talking to him like they were giving him life advice instead of ice time. Didn’t like the word breedable being used like it was a compliment, like it was supposed to make his body feel good instead of like it had just been caged.

And he especially didn’t like the way people looked at him and Mack like they were textbook.

Mack, broad-shouldered and calm, the golden boy of every locker room he stepped into. Will, fast-talking and sharp and always skating like he had something to prove. Alpha and omega, respectively. On paper, it made sense. But paper doesn’t know a damn thing about people.

It’s late July when Mack’s scent starts doing something strange.

Not bad. Not sour or bitter or thick with rut. Just warm. Like baked sugar and salt on sunburnt skin. It curls under Will’s nose when they’re lying on the couch, Mack half-asleep with his face buried in the crook of Will’s neck, fingers twitching against Will’s waist like he’s still dreaming about holding on.

“You’re scenting me again,” Will mutters, but doesn’t move away. His hand keeps carding through Mack’s hair, lazily. “You always do that when you’re trying to ask for something.”

Mack hums but doesn’t lift his head. “Didn’t mean to.”

Will doesn’t press him on it. But the next night, when Mack gets clingy during movie night and starts tracing the dip of Will’s lower back like he’s memorizing it, he knows. Something’s shifting. Not rut. Not quite.

“I was thinking,” Mack says, quietly, like he’s scared the words might break if he says them too loud, “About you. About… us.”

Will closes the laptop. No more movie. No distractions.

Mack sits up but doesn’t meet his eyes. “I know you don’t like it. People talking like you’re supposed to be, like, passive. Just because you’re an omega.”

“I’m not,” Will says simply. “I don’t like it when anyone assumes I want to be taken care of just because of what I am. Like I’m built to—” His throat clenches. “To be owned.”

Mack finally looks at him. “I don’t want to own you.”

Will studies him for a beat, jaw tight. “So what do you want?”

It takes Mack a second to answer. “To be yours.”

Will blinks.

Mack doesn’t stop. “I want to feel you claim me. I want to feel like you need me enough to fuck me through the mattress. I want you to scent me, to hold me down and keep me. I want to feel—” he breaks off, breath catching, cheeks red. “I want to feel like you’d put a pup in me if you could.”

Will stares.

“I know I’m not—” Mack gestures loosely. “—I’m not technically breedable. I’m not… whatever. But I think about it. All the time. Letting you… have me like that.”

There’s silence. Not awkward, but thick. Dense with something aching.

“You’ve been scenting me for weeks,” Will finally says. “And I thought you were about to go into rut or mark me. But this whole time, you’ve just been waiting for me to… take you?”

Mack nods slowly, breath shaky.

Will’s stunned by how much he wants that. Not just the sex, though that’s a given. But the look on Mack’s face when he says it, like he’s trusting Will with something fragile. Like he’s asking not for domination, but surrender. For belonging.

Will leans forward, presses a kiss to Mack’s throat. Soft, then firmer when he feels Mack shiver beneath him.

“I don’t want to own you either,” Will says, voice low. “But I want to make you mine.”

Mack makes a sound, small and broken. His hand fists in Will’s shirt like he’s grounding himself.

“I can’t knock you up,” Will murmurs into his skin, “but I can still fuck you like I would if I could. I can give you that. If you really want it.”

“I do,” Mack says, fast and breathless. “I—please, Will.”

And when Will pins him to the couch and breathes against his jaw, “Good boy,” Mack melts like it’s the first time he’s ever been told he’s exactly what he wanted to be.

---

Mack’s still panting a little, chest flushed, hair damp where it sticks to his forehead. Will’s draped over him, half-bent at an awkward angle on the couch, one hand smoothing lazy circles into the dip of Mack’s waist like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

Neither of them says anything at first. It’s quiet, except for the sound of the fan whirring and the occasional shallow exhale like Mack’s trying to catch his breath again.

“You okay?” Will asks eventually, voice gone hoarse from saying things he didn’t know he had in him.

Mack nods, slow and deliberate. “More than okay.”

Will lifts his head. Mack’s eyes are heavy-lidded, glassy, but not out of it. Just overwhelmed in the way that makes Will’s chest twist up. He brushes a thumb across Mack’s cheekbone.

“I meant it, you know,” Mack says, softer now. “I think about it all the time.”

Will waits. He knows Mack enough now to let him take his time.

“Being… yours.” Mack swallows, then bites his bottom lip like he’s afraid of how it sounds. “Not like... collars or bonds or whatever. I just mean—” His voice drops to a whisper. “Yours. For real.”

Will leans in, nose to temple, taking in the scent of salt and sex and warmth and that specific note of Mack that always smells a little like safety.

“I know,” Will says. “I’ve known.”

Mack huffs a soft, embarrassed laugh. “And you didn’t say anything?”

Will shrugs. “You never asked. And I thought… I don’t know. Thought maybe I was making it up.”

“You weren’t.”

There’s a long pause.

“You kept calling me your good boy.”

Will smiles faintly. “You were.”

Mack flushes, his hand sliding from Will’s hip up under his shirt, fingertips skimming skin. “You’re not mad I wanted it like that?”

Will pulls back just enough to meet his eyes.

“No,” he says. “God, Mack, no. I think I—” He cuts himself off, breath hitching. “I think I needed it too.”

Mack blinks.

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to be the kind of omega who doesn’t need anything,” Will says quietly. “And you made it feel safe to want something. Not because I’m supposed to. But because you do.”

Mack’s hand curls tighter against his back. “Then want me.”

Will tilts his forehead against Mack’s. “I already do.”

Another breath. Another beat.

“Do you—” Mack’s voice breaks, just a little. “Do you wanna scent me again?”

Will doesn’t answer. He just buries his nose in the curve of Mack’s neck and breathes him in like he’s starving.

When he presses his mouth there, open, warm, not quite a bite but close, Mack shudders.

“Mine,” Will whispers.

And Mack says, barely audible, “Always.”

[untilwefind]

Designated Public Menace

Prompt credits @sleepy-hyperfixations

specifically frat a/b/o where willmack keep fucking in communal areas and the frat bros are getting real tired of finding mack's slick on things

'all i wanted after a long lecture is to relax on the couch and watch tv but i can't because SOMEBODY keeps fucking their omega on the couch!'

The frat house had many problems.

There was the eternal sink full of someone else’s dishes, the suspicious mildew smell in the upstairs hallway no one would claim, and the tragic lack of paper towels despite repeated bulk Costco trips. But lately, the biggest problem was Macklin Celebrini’s slick.

Specifically, where it kept ending up.

“Dude.” Gabe didn’t even take his shoes off before yelling it. He stood frozen in the doorway, glaring at the couch like it had personally betrayed him. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

Will didn’t look up from where he was sprawled across said couch, arms behind his head, looking obnoxiously well-fucked and not at all guilty. “Define ‘what you think it is.’”

“I swear to god,” Gabe said, advancing slowly like the couch might attack. “All I wanted after a long-ass lecture was to sit down and watch some goddamn Survivor, and I can’t, because SOMEBODY keeps fucking their omega on the couch!”

Will yawned. “Could’ve been any omega.”

“DID YOU JUST SUGGEST—” Gabe blinked. “There is literally a handprint in the fogged-up window. A handprint. Like a Victorian ghost, except instead of dying tragically, someone got railed facing the patio.”

“Romantic, right?” Will beamed.

“WHERE IS HE?”

“In the shower,” Will said mildly, then smirked. “He needed a rinse.”

Gabe looked like he was undergoing a stress-induced neurological event.

Cutter and Leno wandered in from the kitchen, both holding energy drinks and looking war-weary. “Bro,” Leno said. “You cannot keep doing this.”

“I’m not doing anything!” Will gestured at himself. “I’m just here. Enjoying the view. Vibing.”

“Your omega leaked slick onto my Xbox controller,” Cutter said grimly. “I went to play Call of Duty last night and the L2 trigger made a squelch noise.”

Will snorted.

“NOT FUNNY,” Cutter shouted.

“I thought a raccoon died under the couch, yesterday,” Leno added.

“That was probably just Mack,” Will said. “He gets pretty loud if I—”

“NO!” Gabe held up both hands. “Not again. I don’t want to know what happens if you twist his—”

Will raised an eyebrow. “If I twist his what?”

Gabe made a noise like he was ascending to another plane of rage. “You are on probation, man. I’m not kidding. From now on? NO public surfaces. No couches. No armchairs. No kitchen stools. No bean bags. Especially not the bean bags! We had to burn the green one last week!”

“Technically,” Will said, lifting a finger, “that was Mack’s idea.”

“Do you think that makes it better?” Leno asked.

“It was leaking,” Will said. “Like, actual structural failure.”

“Oh my god,” Cutter muttered. “We’re gonna lose our charter.”

---

The new rules lasted exactly 48 hours.

Two full days of peace. No moaning. No groaning. No sudden shrieks from the laundry room. No mysteriously damp couch cushions. Just pure, unbothered silence.

And then Friday rolled around.

---

Voter opened the fridge. “Did someone drink my last Gatorade—?”

He paused.

He sniffed.

“No.” he said aloud. “No. Absolutely not.”

He backed up. Then opened the pantry.

“Smitty,” he bellowed. “Tell me you didn’t knot him against the—WILL! THERE IS A HANDPRINT ON THE FUCKING MICROWAVE.”

---

Gabe was lying face-down on his bed when the call came.

“What now,” he said into the phone.

“You have to talk to them,” Cutter said flatly. “Smitty's omega left a butt-shaped print in flour on the kitchen counter. I can’t make pancakes without feeling like I’m in a porno.”

Gabe rolled over and screamed into his pillow.

---

The intervention took place during Sunday dinner.

Leno, Cutter, Gabe, Voter, and at least two bewildered freshman circled the table like it was a jury.

Will and Mack sat side by side, suspiciously well-behaved. Mack’s cheeks were flushed. Will looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“This is a community space,” Leno began, using the tone of someone who had read a single RA handbook in 2019 and still quoted it like scripture. “We share things here. Dishes. Laundry. Living areas. That includes the couch, the counters, and all four bathroom sinks.”

“You forgot the dryer,” Mack mumbled.

“STOP REMINDING ME,” Cutter said, shuddering.

Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can you guys seriously not go, like, ten minutes without jumping each other?”

Will’s arm slung casually across the back of Mack’s chair. “I mean, technically we went 48 hours. That’s restraint.”

“To be clear,” Leno said slowly, “we like that you’re in love or whatever.”

“We’re not—” Mack started, but Will just reached over and laced their fingers together, smiling.

Mack’s mouth snapped shut.

“Oh my god,” Gabe said. “You guys are disgusting.”

“Not my fault Mack goes into heat every time he sees me with my shirt off,” Will said cheerfully.

“WHAT KIND OF—”

“We’ll stop,” Mack said quickly, face red. “I swear. We’ll stop. Okay?”

Will leaned over. “You promise?”

Mack elbowed him under the table. “Will.”

Will grinned, unrepentant.

---

They did, in fact, stop.

Mostly.

Except for that one time in the coat closet.

And maybe once in the pool table room. But only after hours.

And technically Mack wasn’t on the couch last time, he was bent over it, which felt like a gray area.

But hey, at least the bean bags were safe.

For now.

---

It was late. Past midnight. The house was quiet for once.

Gabe came in from a night shift at the rink, tired down to his bones, hoodie soaked from the freezing rain outside. All he wanted was to microwave the leftover chili in the fridge from Will's mom, sit on the couch, and watch Planet Earth until his brain stopped buzzing.

He didn’t even turn the lights on, just shuffled through the kitchen by the dim glow of the oven light, grabbed the Tupperware, and headed for the living room with a spoon in his mouth.

The couch was in sight. His salvation.

And then he heard it.

A soft, breathy whine.

Gabe froze.

Paused. Tilted his head.

And then—thump. A high-pitched hitch of breath. A low voice murmuring, “You gotta be quiet, baby, c’mon. You said you could be quiet.”

Gabe sighed. Loudly.

“No.”

He reached over and flicked the light switch on with the air of a man absolutely done with everyone’s shit.

Will blinked at him from where he was fully reclined on the couch, shirtless, hair a mess, one hand gripping Mack’s hip like it was a handlebar.

Mack, whose hoodie was hitched up around his ribs, made a miserable noise and buried his face in the throw pillow.

Will gave a slow, lazy smile. “Hey, man. You need something?”

“I need you to stop using the living room like your personal knotting nest,” Gabe said flatly, not even blinking.

Will shrugged. “It’s comfortable.”

“It’s communal.”

“You guys said no more couches.” Will gestured vaguely. “Mack’s technically on my lap. I’m on the couch. That’s just physics.”

Gabe stared at him for a long, exhausted moment. Then walked over, grabbed the remote from the coffee table, and turned the TV on.

The Planet Earth intro music started to swell.

“You’re gonna keep watching?” Will asked, eyebrows up.

“Oh, I’m not moving,” Gabe said. “I worked eight hours. I want my damn chili and my David Attenborough.”

Mack made a sound of protest.

“I swear to god,” Gabe said, without looking away from the screen, “if I hear one more whimper, I’m spraying you both with the sink hose.”

Will bit back a laugh and tugged Mack’s hoodie back down over his bare hips. “You heard the man, baby. Time for intermission.”

Mack, humiliated and boneless, groaned into the pillow.

Gabe didn’t even flinch. He just scooped up a bite of chili and muttered, “I’m gonna start charging you a cleaning fee.”

[untilwefind]

Chapter 8: Draft Day of Brother, Best Friend, Boyfriend, Bane of My Existence is posted!

In honour of Draft Day yesterday, please enjoy Will and Aiden getting drafted!

Chapter Summary: Aiden and Will are drafted, the Smiths and Celebrinis throw a joint party, and Mack is trying not to pass out every time Will smiles at him like that. There’s media chaos, awkward hallway hugs, sneaky hotel pool chats, and the slow, impossible ache of maybe, possibly, almost.

[untilwefind]

A Little Catholic Guilt

Prompt credits @harrypotterstyles4 Incredibly Catholic will smith hockey who can’t stay away from Mack but everytime they fuck he feels so incredibly guilty and awful he physically feels like his cross necklace is like, suffocating him- but Macklin seems entirely unbothered by such things so Will is like okay enough, and puts his necklace on Mack, bc surely god will torture him for this too, except Macklin keeps acting exactly the same and Will is so frustrated and confused and he thinks something is wrong with him and he ends up literally choking Mack with the necklace so he can get a taste of that feeling, and he’s horrified with himself bc omg he just tried to hurt Mack, but Mack is just there like “holy fuck that was so hot”

Will doesn’t take his necklace off.

Not in the shower. Not during games. Not even when he sleeps. The chain is thin and silver and worn, the little crucifix and medallion glinting against his collarbone like a weight he’s trained himself to carry. Like armor. Like a warning. Like a promise.

But somehow, it ends up in Macklin’s mouth.

---

It always starts the same way.

They’re tangled up in Will’s bed or Mack’s dorm floor or the back seat of someone else’s car, breathing hard, clothes half-off, that wildfire thing between them burning too hot to ignore. Mack kisses like he was born for it. Confident, focused, like he’s playing a game and he always wins. He touches Will with knowing hands, makes noises that get stuck under Will’s skin, low and rough and needy.

Will can never stop.

But after, when Mack is all stretched out and smug and glowing, Will is already curling in on himself. Sweaty, trembling, cross biting into the hollow of his throat like punishment.

Every. Single. Time.

He lies there, wrecked and quiet, heart racing and stomach sick and feels like he’s about to be swallowed whole by shame. Like God is watching. Like He’s disappointed.

Like Mack doesn’t care at all.

And that’s the worst part. The way Mack doesn’t even flinch. He just grins up at the ceiling, makes a joke, asks if Will wants to go get ramen.

Will wants to scream. He wants to confess to something. Wants to crawl into a church and beg for penance, even though he knows they’d ask what for. Even though he knows he’d lie through his teeth and pretend he didn’t love it. Didn’t want it.

So one night, when the guilt is drowning him and Mack looks too golden and smug and untouched, Will yanks the chain off his own neck and slips it over Mack’s instead.

“Here,” he mutters, breathless and shaky, the metal warming quickly against Mack’s flushed skin. “You take it.”

Mack raises an eyebrow but lets it happen. “Trying to make me holy, Smith?”

Will doesn’t answer.

He watches. He waits. Surely now, Mack will feel it. The judgment, the fire, the weight of it all. Surely the metal will dig in like it does for him. Make him feel filthy, wrong.

But Mack just shrugs and pulls Will back down by the hips like nothing’s changed. Like it’s nothing.

---

Weeks pass.

Will keeps putting the necklace on Mack before they fuck. It becomes part of the ritual. Lips, hands, chain clasped around Mack’s neck like a dare. But Mack never reacts. Never flinches. Never even notices.

And Will is losing his mind.

The night it breaks, they’re in Mack’s dorm.

Mack is shirtless, flushed, eyes blown wide, the silver cross and medallion glinting hard against his throat. Will’s hands are shaking as he touches him, mouth pressed against Mack’s jaw like he’s looking for absolution in his skin.

“Say something,” Will breathes.

“Like what?” Mack’s voice is rough and sweet and maddening. “You’re the one with all the prayers, baby.”

Will sees red.

In a flash, he fists the chain and pulls. Tightens it. Just a little.

Mack’s breath catches. And he moans.

Will’s whole body goes rigid.

He releases the chain like it burns him, stumbling back, heart pounding in terror. “Oh my God—I’m sorry—I didn’t—”

“You—” Mack is panting, pupils blown wide. “Will—Holy fuck, that was—”

“No,” Will whispers. “No, don’t say that. Don’t—don’t thank me—”

“I didn’t thank you,” Mack says, voice low and shaking, “but I want to.”

Will feels like he’s going to throw up.

“I didn’t mean to— I just wanted you to feel what I feel. I thought if it choked you too, then maybe—then maybe—”

“Then maybe it’d make sense why it hurts you?” Mack finishes for him, quiet now. “Why you always look like you’re gonna cry after?”

Will nods, helpless. “There’s something wrong with me.”

Mack reaches for him.

“There's nothing wrong with you,” he says, pulling Will into his lap, into his chest, into his arms. “You’re just scared.”

Will clutches at him, tears caught behind his eyes like dammed water.

“You wear your guilt like a crown of thorns,” Mack murmurs, pressing the cross into Will’s palm. “But I’d wear it for you. Again and again. If it means you can breathe.”

They don’t fuck that night. They just lie there, quiet, fingers tangled, silver chain resting between them like a truce.

Will starts wearing the necklace again after that. Not as punishment, but as a memory. Of what they’re still figuring out. Of the boy who didn’t run. Of the boy who said holy fuck like it meant I’m not afraid of this.

[untilwefind]

WILLLL omg 🤦‍♀️

comically bad shoe game yet again. he just can't help himself

[untilwefind]

I Love You

Prompt credits @shesinbloom the first time will says i love you mack squeaks and turns red, which is a better reaction than he expected, macklin loves running away from emotions

Will doesn’t plan it.

That’s what he’ll tell anyone who asks, anyway — that it just slipped out, that it wasn’t some elaborate strategy or moment he’d rehearsed in the mirror. He’s not that much of a sap. He’s just lying in Mack’s bed, in Jumbo's guest house, squished against the wall, watching the sunlight draw long shadows over Mack’s bare chest while Mack scrolls through TikTok pretending he’s not halfway asleep.

Will’s heart does this thing, fluttery and warm and terrifying. Mack yawns, one arm stretching up, curls messy and wild, and Will blurts it out before he can stop himself.

“I love you.”

Mack freezes.

His whole body goes rigid, like someone just hit pause. His phone slides out of his hand and lands on the floor with a thud. His eyes are wide, like a deer caught in the world’s most romantic headlights.

And then he squeaks.

A high, ridiculous, involuntary sound escapes his throat. He claps a hand over his mouth like he can catch it before it escapes, cheeks turning bright red.

Will blinks. “Did you just—?”

“No, shut up,” Mack says immediately, voice muffled behind his hand. “You imagined that.”

“Oh my God, you squeaked. You turned red and squeaked.”

Mack makes a second noise, this one sounds like mortal embarrassment wrapped in a death threat, and practically throws himself out of bed.

He’s halfway to the door, shirtless, sockless, eyes darting like he’s considering climbing out the window, when Will calls after him, “Where are you going?!”

“Nowhere!” Mack says. “I just—I need air! And water. And a new face!”

Will falls back onto the pillow, laughing so hard it hurts.

Somehow, it’s the best reaction he could’ve hoped for. Because Macklin Celebrini, Olympic-level runner from his own emotions, didn’t brush it off. Didn’t freeze him out. Didn’t smirk or joke or shrug like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

He blushed. He squeaked. He ran away barefoot.

Will grins up at the ceiling and shouts, “Still love you!”

From the kitchenette, there’s a distant, flustered groan.

And maybe the faintest sound of Mack’s voice, muttering something that might be “love you too,” if you tilt your head and believe in miracles.

[untilwefind]

Heat Advisory

Prompt credits @sleepy-hyperfixations:

omega mack coming into practice on the cusps of heat and as the week progresses alpha will gets increasingly unhinged bcs 'you should be at home not here driving every alpha in a 50 foot radius insane' which mack takes offense to bcs willmack have been sleeping together but will has yet to ask or offer to spend mack's heat with him so he can fuck right off. plus mack's omega support group (jamie, mitch, and one mr. Sidney Crosby) says he should be confident in himself and ask another teammate to help (he won't, they know that but its an idea mack!) while will's alpha council (natemack, Trevor, and auston Matthews for some reason) keep berating him for being an idiot

Mack shows up to Tuesday’s practice smelling like peaches and sex and self-control. Will smells it before he sees him, because of course he does, and nearly walks into a wall.

He's halfway through a turn behind the bench when Mack strolls out of the locker room with his usual easy gait, chin high, compression shirt sticking to his chest in ways that should be illegal. He's chewing gum and his cheeks are flushed.

Will, unfortunately, is feral.

"Jesus Christ," Eky mutters beside him, stumbling into a wall of scent and slapping a palm over his mouth. "That’s not just slick, that’s slick with attitude."

Toff snorts from the corner, eyes narrowing. “He’s not even trying to suppress it.”

“Because he’s fine,” Will snaps, not looking away. “Because he’s not even in heat. Yet.”

"Yet," Toff echoes, ominous and dry. “But he's close enough to have half the room forgetting which hand they shoot with.”

Will exhales sharply through his nose. His jaw ticks. And Mack, god, Mack, skates out onto the ice like he doesn’t feel every gaze tracking him, like he’s not the biggest distraction this team has ever seen.

Will wants to drag him off the ice and into the nearest locked room. He also wants to throttle him.

He settles for chirping during drills. "You're skating like you're drunk on your own hormones."

Mack doesn’t even blink. “Better than you, Smith. You keep staring at the glass like it’ll give you a handjob.”

Eky wheezes so hard he nearly wipes out during a breakout drill. Will flushes and trips over a cone.

---

By Thursday, Will is rabid.

“You shouldn’t even be here,” he hisses in the hallway outside video review, trying not to lose it while Mack stands there with flushed cheeks and too-bright eyes, vibrating like a tuning fork.

Mack lifts a brow, unimpressed. “Why? You can’t focus?”

“No alpha within a fifty-foot radius can. Including Wars. He forgot my name.”

“I’m not your problem,” Mack says evenly. “I’ve got suppressants. I’m managing it. I cleared it with the training staff.”

“That’s not the—” Will exhales, nostrils flaring. “You should be at home. Resting. Not…not—”

“Not what, Will?” Mack’s tone sharpens. “Not driving you crazy?”

Will doesn’t answer.

Mack folds his arms. “You don’t get to be pissed about it. We’ve been sleeping together for how long and you haven’t once offered to spend my heat with me, so you don’t get to play possessive now.”

Will opens his mouth.

Closes it.

Mack rolls his eyes. “Exactly. Fuck off.”

---

Friday, Mack is sulking in the omega support group chat he was added to a few months ago. Mack: i hate him. Jamie: babe u do not Mitch: hate sex is a legit genre but i don’t recommend it during heat without a pre-negotiated bond contract and snacks Sid: have you considered asking someone else? Mack : NO. Sid: you should be confident in yourself. will isn’t the only alpha on the team. Jamie: sid is trying to get you to sleep with couture i know it Sid: logan is responsible and discreet. Mitch: okay but you could also just ask will Mack: he should OFFER Sid: okay. fair.

Meanwhile, Will's own alpha chat is in disarray. Nate: ask him. now. Trevor: bro u gonna let him go into heat alone?? Will : he said he didn’t want me to. Auston: he definitely never said that Will: he said “fuck off” Auston: which is omegese for “fight for me” Will: i don’t want to screw it up. if i offer and he says no... Nate: you already ARE screwing it up. Auston: offer to scent him. offer soup. offer your entire pathetic heart. Trevor: i’ll do it if you don’t Will: you will NOT Trevor Zegras: 💅 just sayin

---

Will shows up to Mack’s apartment Friday night with heat packs, four liters of lemon Gatorade, and a terrified expression.

Mack opens the door in a hoodie and sweatpants and no scent blockers. Will breathes in and immediately forgets how doors work.

“I know you said not to,” Will starts, eyes wild. “I know I’m late. And I know I’m bad at…saying things. But I want to help. If you want me to.”

Mack stares at him. “You want to help.”

“Yeah.”

“With what, Will.”

Will flushes to the roots. “Your heat.”

“You sure? You’re not just being driven insane by biology?”

“I’ve been losing my mind since October,” Will says, fast and messy. “It’s not just biology. I want to take care of you. I want us. Even if it’s not this week. Or next. Or ever. But I had to say it.”

Mack’s eyes narrow. Then soften.

Then he opens the door a little wider.

“I have rules.”

Will exhales. “Give me all of them.”

“And I want lemon Gatorade.”

Will lifts the bag. “Already handled.”

Mack smiles, quiet and small and warm. “Okay.”

And Will finally steps inside.

---

The air in Mack’s apartment is humid and sweet. Mack's scent has soaked into everything. The pillows. The couch. The sheets. The skin Will would die to sink his teeth into.

Mack’s curled into the corner of the bed when Will returns from the kitchen with a cool cloth and a second Gatorade. He’s got the sleeves of his hoodie bunched in his fists and his jaw set like he’s trying not to ask for something. Or everything.

Will kneels beside the bed. “Headache?”

Mack just blinks at him, heavy-lidded. “This is the worst part. Before it spikes.”

Will nod. He wrings out the cloth and presses it gently to Mack’s neck. His skin is flushed and hot.

“I can handle it,” Mack says, like a dare. “I always do.”

“I know,” Will murmurs. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

Mack’s eyes flutter at that, and Will feels it in his chest. Tight and wanting.

“Come here,” Mack says hoarsely, after a beat. “Please.”

Will hesitates. “You sure?”

Mack huffs, frustrated and hot and close to breaking. “If you ask again, I’m going to climb you like a fucking tree.”

So Will climbs into bed instead.

Their mouths crash before their bodies do. Mack kisses like it hurts to wait, like it’s relief and punishment all at once, pulling at Will’s shirt, raking nails down his back. Will’s hands press to Mack’s hips, trying to be gentle, but Mack growls.

“Don’t hold back.”

“Mack—”

“You’ve been edging around this for months,” Mack snaps, breath ragged against his throat. “You think I don’t know? Every time you scent me by accident and pretend it’s just because we’re teammates? Every time you walk into a room and scan for me first?”

Will exhales shakily. “I don’t want to do this wrong.”

Mack drags Will’s hand to his own chest and presses it over his thundering heart. “Then stop pretending you don’t want me.”

Will doesn’t answer with words. He kisses Mack deep and firm, hands sliding under his hoodie, tugging it over his head. Mack’s skin is flushed, gleaming with heat, and his slick-slick-slick scent punches Will in the gut like a drug.

Mack whines when Will finally touches him lower, breath catching on a needy sound that goes straight to Will’s spine.

Will lets out a curse. “You’re soaked through already.”

“Told you it was spiking.”

Will kisses the corner of Mack’s jaw. “I’ve got you.”

And he does. He always has.

The first time, it’s frenzied. Clothes halfway gone, Mack writhing under him, Will trying to be gentle but losing grip on every instinct because Mack keeps asking for more. Back arched, mouth open, voice going wrecked and high-pitched whenever Will bites too close to his neck.

There’s no bond mark. Not yet. But Mack tilts his head back like he wants it. Like he’s daring Will to cross the line.

Will presses his lips to the spot instead, teeth aching with restraint. “Not unless you want it.”

“Don’t tease,” Mack pants.

“I’m not,” Will says hoarsely. “I want to. God, I want to. But I need to be sure.”

Mack grabs Will’s hand, presses it against his chest again. “I’m sure.”

But Will waits anyway.

Because the next time, when Mack is boneless and open and flushed to the ears, he’s going to ask again. And that time, Will’s going to say yes.

---

Later, after they’ve wrecked the sheets twice, after Will’s left every mark he can and Mack’s still pulling him closer with whined pleas and heat-drunk fingers, Will lays a wet cloth over Mack’s neck again, gentle and grounding.

“You okay?” he whispers.

Mack groans. “Yeah. Fucked out, starving, overstimulated. Great.”

Will laughs and threads their fingers together. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Good,” Mack says, eyes closed. “Then you can’t ditch me next heat.”

Will goes still.

“Wasn’t planning to miss any of them ever again. If you’ll let me.”

Mack hums. “About time, Smith.”

And then he tugs Will back down for more.

[untilwefind]

[untilwefind]

Chapter 5 of Brother, Best Friend, Boyfriend, Bane of My Existence is live!

Chapter 5: House Party Dos and Don'ts

What starts as a typical house party at Fowler's spirals into a night of too much touching, too much chirping, and one very unfortunate bathroom interruption courtesy of Leno. Aiden is ready to strangle Will, Mack is ready to melt into the floor, and Will’s too drunk on adrenaline to notice.

[untilwefind]

Did You Mean It Like That?

Prompt credit @sleepy-hyperfixations: omega mack who has only ever had bad sex, omega mack who's past partners have groped him blindly and said 'did you finish?', omega mack who has low expectations for alpha will, omega mack who doesn't know where tf he is after sleeping with will for the first time bcs no other alpha has ever made him come this hard ever

It starts quiet, like most of their nights do.

The party was loud. Some upperclassmen’s house off-campus with sticky floors, too much beer, and Will pressed against Mack for a dangerous two hours under the guise of “just being bros.” They came back late, still flushed and grinning, and now the only light in the dorm is the glow from Will’s desk lamp.

Will’s sitting on his bed in sweats, legs spread loose and thoughtless. Mack’s tucked into the corner near the wall, hoodie sleeves pulled down to his knuckles, watching Will play some dumb YouTube video with only half his attention.

They’ve been doing this for weeks now. Will inviting Mack over after games, after late practices, after parties, always finding a reason to say, stay a little longer, Mack. Mack keeps saying yes.

They haven’t talked about what this is. They haven’t kissed yet.

But Mack’s starting to ache with the wanting.

“You’re staring,” Will says, not looking up from his laptop.

Mack flushes. “I’m not.”

Will just smiles, still not turning his head. “You kinda are. Not that I mind.”

There’s a beat. Mack shifts. The scent in the room changes, just a little. Wanting, maybe. Curiosity. He’s always careful, always self-contained, always muted. But not tonight.

Will finally looks up, eyes soft and unreadable. “What’re you thinking about?”

“You,” Mack says. Then immediately regrets the honesty.

But Will doesn’t tease. He just sets his laptop aside and crawls a little closer on the bed. “Yeah?”

Mack nods. His throat is dry.

Will leans in, tilts his head. Their foreheads almost touch. “You gonna let me kiss you?”

And—God. It’s so simple, the way he says it. Like it’s not a performance. Like he’s just asking because he wants it and he wants Mack to want it too.

Mack’s breath catches. He nods.

Will’s hand cups his cheek and then they’re kissing.

It starts soft. Curious. But it builds. Slow and steady, like heat through fabric, until Mack’s pressed back against Will’s pillows and Will’s over him, bracing himself on one hand, the other still stroking Mack’s cheek like he’s not trying to rush anything. Mack’s thighs part automatically. It’s instinct, stupid omega instinct, sure, but it’s his, and for once he doesn’t feel ashamed of it.

“Is this okay?” Will whispers between kisses. His hand slips under Mack’s hoodie, resting on his waist. “You want this?”

Mack’s already breathless. “Yeah.”

“Tell me if you don’t.”

“I do.” His voice cracks a little. “Just, don’t stop being like this.”

Will stills. “Like what?”

Mack doesn’t answer. He kisses him again instead.

They undress slowly, awkwardly, half-laughing through it until Mack’s shirtless and flushed and trying to hide how much his hands are shaking. Will kisses each new bit of skin he uncovers. Shoulders, collarbone, sternum. Never once rushing.

Mack feels like something precious. Like something being unwrapped, not stolen.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Will murmurs as he noses along Mack’s neck.

Mack swallows hard. He’s been called hot before. Fuckable. Tight. But never beautiful.

Will’s hand strokes down between them, slow and warm, and Mack chokes on a moan when Will actually takes his time. Not because of the reaction, but like he wants to understand it. He watches Mack’s face. Changes pressure. Adjusts rhythm.

Mack gasps. “Fuck—wait—don’t stop, but—fuck—”

Will smiles against his shoulder. “Good?”

Mack nods violently. “Better than—fuck—better than anything.”

Will chuckles, but it’s breathless now. “I'm not even inside you yet.”

That makes Mack twitch. He nods again, pulling Will down, kissing him until their teeth click.

When Will finally pushes in, Mack gasps so loud it echoes. He forgets how to move. His body locks and burns and melts all at once.

“Okay?” Will pants.

Mack’s eyes are wet. “Yeah. Just, don’t move yet. Please.”

Will freezes, immediately obedient, kissing Mack’s temple as Mack breathes through the stretch.

It’s not pain. Not really. It’s just overwhelming.

And when Will finally begins to move—God. Mack sees stars. Real, honest stars.

There’s no rutting, no frantic thrusts. Just deep, steady motion, and Will’s mouth on his jaw, and Will whispering, “You’re doing so good for me, baby,” like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Mack doesn’t realize he’s crying until Will’s thumb brushes over his cheek.

“Too much?” Will whispers, alarmed.

“No,” Mack breathes. “No, it’s just—no one’s ever—Will—fuck—don’t stop.”

And when it happens—when he comes, hard and sudden and wrecked, sobbing into Will’s shoulder—it’s like a dam breaking.

He feels undone.

Will doesn’t stop holding him.

Even afterward, when they’re both spent and Will’s hand is still on his back, Mack curls into him like it’s the only place he’s ever felt safe.

They lie there for a while. Neither of them says anything.

Will traces slow circles into Mack’s hip. Mack’s head is on Will’s chest, his legs tangled in the sheets.

He feels like he doesn’t know where he is. Like someone cracked his ribs open and let the air in.

“You okay?” Will finally asks, voice hoarse.

Mack nods. Then, after a beat, says, “I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

Will doesn’t say anything at first.

“Like what?”

Mack pulls the blanket tighter around his body. “Like someone actually gave a shit about me.”

Will tenses.

Mack hurries to fix it. “Not you. You do. I know you do. It’s just, no one else has. Before. Ever.”

Will shifts to face him fully. “You’re telling me no one’s ever made you feel good?”

Mack shrugs. “I’ve come before. Just… not like that.”

Will’s face falls. “Jesus.”

“I got used to pretending,” Mack mutters. “Guys’d ask, ‘Did you finish?’ and I’d just lie. Easier.”

Will is quiet. Then he says, “You should never have had to pretend. You should’ve always been treated like you matter.”

Mack feels his throat tighten. “Yeah, well. Omegas aren’t exactly known for being respected.”

“You are,” Will says instantly. “You are. I respect the hell out of you, Macklin Celebrini.”

Mack looks up at him, startled.

Will smiles faintly. “I care about you. A lot. I’m not gonna pretend that wasn’t the best sex of my life, but... what I care about more is you being okay. You being safe. You knowing that wasn’t a one-time thing.”

Mack’s eyes sting again. “I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Just stay here,” Will says, stroking his cheek. “That’s all I want.”

And Mack does.

He stays. Wrapped in Will’s hoodie, legs tangled with his, body sated and warm and safe for once. Finally, finally letting himself believe it could really be different this time.

[untilwefind]

wow... they have him caged now...what happened

[untilwefind]

Chapter 4 of Brother, Best Friend, Boyfriend, Bane of My Existence is up!

Will brings Mack and Aiden home for Thanksgiving break, but no one told Will’s family they’re dating. Cue chaotic football games, kitchen flirtations, near-disastrous sleepovers, and a very suspicious older sister. Aiden suffers. Will’s mom keeps barging in. Mack tries to be normal and fails. Happy fake Thanksgiving!

I'm too obsessed with this little universe where Mack, Will and Aiden are the ultimate dynamic trio...

[untilwefind]

Turns out I'm ridiculously obsessed with the concept of Aiden and Will growing up as best friends and going to BC together and Mack being the annoying little brother until suddenly he's not anymore and they're ruining Aiden's life with their love.

So this is where I'll be posting all my little head cannons about that:

Brother, Best Friend, Boyfriend, Bane of my Existence

There won't be an overarching plot, just little moments that stuck in my head that I need to get out. Probably won't even be chronological but I'll do my best to make sure the timelines are clear.

Send me any prompt you'd like to see in this weird and wild and adorable alternate universe🩵