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Mack: Fear not i have a permit.

Toff: This is a piece of paper that says 'let mack do what he wants - will smith hockey'.

Mack: whoops, wrong one. This one.

Toff: This says the same thing as the other one but its signed by your dad.

Mack: Oh geez sorry its this one!

Toff:.....again this says the same as the last two.

Mack: Did you see who it was signed by?

Toff: 'let mack do what he wants - Sidney Crosby'.....seriously Mack.

Mack: I have one from Mr. Malkin and Mr. Mackinnon too.

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was observing how my cat is rubbing his face on everything in my new apartment to claim his territory and my mind went willmack mode as it often does, so

picture will rubbing his face against things around his and mack's place or the rink to scent mark them as his, and whenever someone comes over and smells them, they're like, "woah, mack, territorial much?" because will is so constantly covered in mack's slick that his scent is more mack than his own. mack isn't incredibly territorial, but he is very possessive of his alpha.

mack: i didn't put his face in my crotch he did that himself and then decided he should rub his face everywhere

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They laugh at our trauma

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Nothing is “TMI” for me. I’m nosy as shit. Tell me everything. Spare no detail.

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LMAOOOOO Sidney in this photo looks like a man who’s already texted “pls come get me” to three different people and no one’s answering 😭

Like:

He’s smiling… but his eyes say “Brad has been yelling in my ear for 20 minutes”

That hat? Forced on him by Nathan, 100%

His soul? Trying to exit his body quietly

Meanwhile:

Brad’s living his best chaotic gremlin life

Nate’s thriving because he has both his boyfriend and his court jester

God bless. This is the slowest form of emotional torture.

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neither. they get to the face off circle and start making out.

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being a hockey fan means that you eventually learn to eroticize uh. players not having teeth

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@loganes reblogged a video from f1vegas and leno's expression was so familiar to me i blacked out for a second and made this video

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https://www.tumblr.com/sleepy-hyperfixations/790248939273289728/httpswwwtumblrcomsleepy-hyperfixations790213

Mack's been in the bathroom for way too long.

Will notices because they’ve been living together long enough now to pick up on patterns. Ten minutes is a Mack “quick rinse.” Twenty is a “full exfoliate and deep conditioner.” But right now? It’s been over twenty, and the shower hasn’t even turned on.

Will frowns and tosses his phone aside. Pads barefoot over the cold floor and taps on the door with the backs of his knuckles.

“Mack?”

No answer. Not even a fake “yeah, hang on” like usual.

He knocks again. “Babe? You good?”

A pause, then Mack’s voice, tight and a little too bright: “Yeah! Just—give me a sec.”

Will leans his head against the door. He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Just listens.

He hears breathing. Quiet. Uneven.

“Mack,” he says, soft now. “Can I come in?”

“Just—give me a minute, okay?”

“You said that like ten minutes ago.”

“I’m fine,” Mack bites out.

Will exhales through his nose. “Okay. But if you’re actually fine, you won’t mind me coming in, right?”

Silence.

Then, quietly, click.

Will pushes the door open.

The lights are off.

The bathroom is cool and dim, the kind of dusky grey that creeps in through a window when the sun’s setting. Mack is sitting on the closed toilet seat, hunched over in a towel, arms wrapped around his middle. His hair is damp, he must’ve done a rinse, but his face is dry, pale, and he’s studiously avoiding eye contact with his reflection in the mirror.

He doesn’t look up.

Will kneels in front of him, “You wanna talk about it?”

Mack doesn’t answer.

Will gently puts his hands on Mack’s knees. Just rests them there. A quiet I’m here.

“I don’t know what to say,” Mack mutters eventually.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“Because I wanna help,” Will says. “But only if you want me to.”

Mack scoffs. “There’s nothing to help.”

Will just hums. “Okay.”

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t poke.

And Mack hates that. Hates that Will doesn’t try to fix it, doesn’t demand an explanation. Hates it because it makes him feel safe, and that safety makes it worse. Like if he lets himself breathe, he’ll start sobbing and never stop.

“I just…” Mack swallows hard. “I hate looking at myself sometimes.”

Will’s hands rub gently along the tops of his thighs. “What are you seeing that’s making you feel like that?”

“I don’t know. Me.”

Will stays quiet.

And Mack hates that too, because it makes him talk more. Makes the words tumble out even though they taste like acid.

“I just—every time I catch a glimpse of myself, all I see is…” He flinches. “All the parts I hate. My stomach. My chest. My face. I look bloated and puffy and—and you’re out there walking around shirtless looking like a Calvin Klein ad and I’m in here looking like a fucking before photo.”

Will’s breath catches. But he doesn’t interrupt.

Mack shakes his head. “And I know it’s dumb. I know I’m not, like, that big, and that it doesn’t matter, and that other people have it worse, and I should be grateful I even have a body that works but—”

“Hey,” Will says, gentle but firm. “No more of that. Your pain doesn’t stop being valid just because someone else is struggling too.”

Mack’s lip trembles.

“I feel like I’m too much,” he whispers. “Like I take up too much space. Like I’m always soft in the wrong places. I see pictures of us and I swear to God I look like a fucking marshmallow standing next to you.”

Will cups Mack’s cheek. “That’s not what I see.”

“I know,” Mack snaps. “That’s what makes it worse. You never see it. You’re always so nice and you always want me and I keep thinking—how long until that changes? How long until you realize you could be with someone better?”

Will stills.

Mack’s eyes are shining. “Someone hotter. Someone with abs and a jawline that could cut glass and no weird little stretch marks on their hips—”

“I love your stretch marks,” Will blurts.

Mack blinks at him. “What?”

Will presses a kiss to Mack’s thigh, just above the knee. “I do. They’re like art. They’re yours. They tell a story. Every inch of you is something I crave.”

Mack goes quiet.

Will scoots closer. “You think I don’t notice how soft your belly gets when you’re laughing? Or how you always pull your shirt down even though you don’t have to? You think I don’t see how hard you try to disappear into the corners of rooms because you think you’re too much?”

Mack breathes in sharply.

“Well guess what,” Will says. “You are too much. For people who don’t deserve you. Not for me.”

Mack looks away.

Will follows him with his eyes. “You are everything, Macklin. You’re warm and solid and you fit against me like you were fucking designed to. I love holding you. I love touching you. I love seeing you walk around in nothing but a towel, even when you think I’m not looking.”

Mack’s cheeks flush pink.

“I know your brain lies to you,” Will says. “But let me be louder than it for a minute.”

He reaches up and gently traces his fingers along Mack’s waist, across the little dip where softness gives way to skin. Mack jerks away like he’s been burned.

“Don’t,” he says, voice breaking.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re only doing it to make me feel better and it doesn’t work.”

Will swallows. “What if I’m doing it because I love you?”

Mack squeezes his eyes shut.

“I love every single part of you, Mack,” Will says, quieter now. “Even the parts you haven’t made peace with yet. Especially those.”

Mack starts crying then, not in loud sobs, but in quiet, hitching gasps like his lungs are trying to give up.

Will pulls him in, towel and all, and cradles him against his chest. Just holds him while he shakes.

It takes a while. But eventually, Mack’s breathing evens out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Will’s neck.

“Don’t be,” Will says. “I’m glad you told me.”

Mack leans back, eyes still wet. “You’re not gonna leave?”

Will stares at him. “Is that even a question?”

Mack shrugs helplessly.

Will cups his face. “You think I’d survive more than a day without you? You’re the best part of my whole damn life.”

Mack sniffles. “You’re so cheesy.”

“You love it.”

“I kinda do.”

Will grins. “Can I show you how much I love your body now? Like actually show you?”

Mack hesitates. “I don’t think I can be naked right now.”

“Then don’t be,” Will says, pressing kisses to his cheeks. “We’ll go slow. You call the shots.”

Mack leans into him. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Will lifts him up gently, bridal style, and carries him out of the bathroom.

Mack giggles through his tears. “You’re such a showoff.”

“I’m literally obsessed with you,” Will says, laying him down on the bed. “Get ready to be worshipped like the actual god you are.”

Mack rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.

Will sees it, and knows, with quiet certainty, that Mack might not believe him yet.

But he will.

- sleep-deprived anon

Will, dead serious: they would have made statues of you in ancient Greece

(I just woke up and u've made me sad)

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Repressed queer Ryan Leonard takes up so much space in my head

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I made this last night

Taglist @bepbops @lewispitlane

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willmack is crazy because what's 71 minus 2?

69.

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will 'pokes his tongue out when concentrating' smith is never beating the puppy allegations

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Absolutely iconic.

I’ll take 10 more

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dunkin donuts oh how i've missed you

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if you ever feel sad, just remember oscar piastri’s baku overtake was looked at by mclaren’s aerodynamic engineers and deemed impossible

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john hayden saving buoy from being eaten by a bear in alaska sounds like it should be fanfiction and not part of an official video released by the team socials and YET