hiiii this is the same omegaverse anon from earlier today! here’s more from that au lol <3
Will stares at him, eyes wide and mouth open in shock. “What do you mean leave, Macklin? You can’t leave an omega in the middle of a heat?!”
Mack flushes even redder, shifting his hands behind his back like he does when he’s picking at his scent glands. Will only barely manages to stop himself from grabbing Mack’s wrists so he can’t hurt himself.
“I—well, I mean, it was for a good reason?” He tries, but it comes out more like a question. “I’m way too clingy during my heats, it’s too much for anyone, really. And he needed a break from me so he just, like, left I guess? When I came out of it I was kind of confused but he texted me after, so it was fine.”
That’s maybe underselling it a little, but Mack can’t exactly tell Will about the three day drop when he’s this worked up about—Mack can’t actually tell, really.
Will’s anger clouds the air around them now, sweet grass turning sharp and astringent, and Mack barely manages to bite his own tongue before a pathetic whimper escapes. He doesn’t know where he’s gone wrong, where he’s yet again been a stupid, bad, wrong omega. But he knows it’s his fault, that he’s made his alpha—no, wrong, idiot, Will doesn’t want you—mad. That he’s misstepped again.
The other omegas his age growing up had always made fun of how bad Mack was as reading the signals, how oblivious he was about what alphas liked, what alphas wanted. Mack had always sort of known that he was never going to be good enough for any alpha, especially not an alpha as good as Will. Will who was always gentle and kind and respectful to omegas. Who held the door for his mom and sister. Who wanted pups and dinner on the table and someone blonde and beautiful and smaller than him.
Mack was none of those things. And now he had even managed to make Will truly angry, judging by the stormy expression on his face. Sweet, easygoing Will. The omega from the bar last night had been right, he knows now. Mack should stop trying to remind everyone that he’s an omega. No one wants to think about how unfuckable he is, least of all his best friend who will never look at him like that.
“I can’t help you,” Will says, backing away slowly. He’s brought his wrist up to cover his nose, blocking Mack’s heat scent, which almost hurts more than the rejection. Of course Will wouldn’t even be attracted to his heat pheromones, even though they’re biologically composed to make Mack as appealing as possible. This is even more fucking embarrassing than his worst nightmares. This is worse than his presentation heat, when the Shattuck trainers hadn’t believed he was an omega until he’d passed out in their office from the fever.
“Oh,” Mack says, his heart sinking. It had been stupid to think that Will might—that an alpha like Will would want anything to do with him. He should’ve known that Will looked at him and saw what every other alpha had ever seen. Mack was bulky, stubborn, neurotic. Always too much and not enough in all the wrong places. Clingy in the bad way, bratty in the wrong way. He was never going to be pretty or petite or well-behaved like the omegas Will always went for.
His father had been right, of course. Mack wasn’t the type of omega who got to have that kind of thing. Mack is tall, broad, and had an unflattering tendency to eat his feelings. He’d never been under any delusions about his ability to attract a mate. Most alphas didn’t even realize he was an omega, despite his stereotypically sugary scent.
It was stupid of him to ask, stupid of him to hope that maybe it wouldn’t matter if he was Mack, that Will would be willing to help a friend out, if nothing more than so that Mack could get it over with and still be able to play tomorrow. He’s realizing now, as Will scrambles around the room, throwing shit into his bag haphazardly like Mack is a wild animal about to pounce, that not even his ripest most fertile state could entice the alpha to want him.
An alpha to take care of me, he thought, ignoring the burning in his eyes as he fought back tears and the lump in his throat. He should’ve known that Toff was just humoring him, just telling Mack whatever he wanted to hear. No matter how much the entire team made fun of them for living in each other’s pockets, Mack would need to keep reminding himself of the truth. What a fucking joke.
Mack’s heats are always bad, always miserable and painful and unsatisfying, but the week he spends locked in the hotel room in Boston is the worst he’s ever experienced. The cramps only get worse when Will leaves, and he spends the next few hours curled up in Will’s bed trying to breathe through it.
You are evil, capital E anon....i eagerly await more
