#being lonely is all fun and games until bad things are happening in your life and you have no one to distract you or help you

[jackalhadrurusluvr]

repeating my therapists words in my head like the bike message in pokemon

[joelsgoldrush]

“epiphany” | 21k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: Superheroes and mutants weren’t enough. No—the universe had to throw in soulmates who share scars. Fantastic, right? Except yours had vanished, only to mysteriously reappear with the arrival of a new face: the “Worst” Logan Howlett, fresh from another earth.

OR What happens when a hopeless romantic crosses paths with the ultimate soulmate skeptic?

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ strangers to lovers. drinking. cursing. slow burn. angst. pining. mentions of alcohol. fluff. reflecting on the art of writing/poems/books. dual POV. takes place after the events of “deadpool & wolverine”. TW: multiple descriptions of scars. worst/variant!logan. implied age gap (reader’s in her late 20s). they’re both touch starved. wade’s everyone’s friend. miscommunication/misunderstandings. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering, grinding. some slight hair pulling. unprotected p in v, creampie. sex with feelings.

A/N: HOPELESS ROMANTICS RISE! here we go again with another long ass fic. this is a soulmates AU in which you get your soulmate’s scars. if you feel triggered by this topic, please refrain from reading. i had a lot of fun writing this even though it took me a while to get it done. thanks to @lubdubology for being my beta and allowing me to share my work with you. and also thanks to @brushworth for giving me the chance to write this. having said this, enjoy the story! i’d love to know your thoughts on it <3

Love giveth and love taketh away.

To this day, it’s still hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that love is what humans both strive and die for.

If it weren’t for love, you wouldn’t be here. No one would, actually. Human beings are the result of billions of people who loved each other just enough—or at least long enough to bring life into the world.

But isn’t it in the name of love that people act in bad faith? Why would something so pure be used in vain?

You don’t get it, but as the years go by, you slowly come to terms with the idea that perhaps you never will. Not because there isn’t a reason, but because you’re in love with the idea of love.

How could you not be? It’s on the streets, on the bus, at work. Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is. Love is dressed up in an expensive silk robe, a ribbon tied neatly on top of it. You reach closer, trying to unravel it, though it's pointless. The moment love sees you—truly sees your longing for it—it flees, and you struggle to keep up.

Love runs faster than anyone, hiding within the bushes, counting the seconds until its next appearance.

It had always been a relentless race, your only worry being to catch it before time ran out. But with each day that passed, the finish line only stretched further and further away. Now, they all blur together, to the point where you live and breathe on autopilot. 

In a Jane Austen novel, you’d be considered a lone woman. That character who’s nice, and kind, and loved by some, but not in the way she yearns for. Every time she’s mentioned, you go “Oh, the poor girl,” until the slow realization dawns.

In reality, she’s you, and it’s you who you feel sorry for, not a fictional character. You.

All in all, love giveth. And love also taketh away. 

Love maketh you miserable.

Soulmates—a nine-letter word that holds so much meaning.

It’s one of those words that you learn early in your life, one you hear at home or on the TV. Your parents never fail to mention it if given the chance. The first time you’re introduced to the topic is at school when you're older, a bit more self-conscious, and no longer preoccupied with picking your nose.

“Everybody has a soulmate. And no,” your teacher had added after a pause, already anticipating the inevitable questions from any curious 10-year-old, “there isn’t such a thing as not having one. We all do. You just have to search for them.”

Back then, that had been your favorite game—always keeping an eye open, scanning the crowd more than once in new places. You knew for sure that more than one person probably thought you’d strained your neck from all the times you glanced over your shoulder.

It must be pretty obvious now, the fact that you’re—well, alone. Saying ‘without a companion’ sounds quite outdated. They can’t see through you, but something in the way you walk or speak must give it away. 

Or is it the fact that you always ask for a table for one?

“Are you expecting someone else?” A waitress approaches you, her tone gentle as she makes sure you’re on your own. A small notebook dangles from her slender fingers, and your eyes catch the name stitched onto her apron: Emily.

The response you give her is on the verge of sounding automatic, robotic even, like one of those prerecorded messages busy people leave on their phones. “No. Just me.”

She nods, and you feel the sympathy in her gaze. You’ve mastered the art of recognizing that look—the one hovering between concern and pity.

Of course, people rarely voice it, but they’ll never know their eyes sometimes say more than they think.

As she jots down your order, you’re met with the ring on her left hand. Very pretty, very shiny. Very expensive as well. Your attention must linger on it a little too long, because she catches you staring, making you feel exposed.

Emily—you decide to call her that way from now on, because once you know her name, it feels odd to address her as the waitress—offers you a shy smile.

“I’m getting married next month,” she blurts out, happiness radiating from her pores. Her eyes glint like two lanterns in a starless night. She also looks younger than you, and the abrupt silence forces you to pinch your wrist, a reminder of the fact that this is a conversation, and not just something you're overhearing.

“Congratulations,” you manage to reply, returning the smile. If she saw how your expression faltered the second she walked away, you wonder if she’d still think you were so amiable.

Sometimes, your façade slips—you can’t help it. That’s what the ‘hopeless’ in ‘hopeless romantic’ stands for.

Some minutes later, she comes back with your coffee, and you catch another glimpse of the ring as it twinkles in front of you. Envy doesn’t suit you, so you shift your focus.

Taking out your laptop, you scroll through the latest headlines. This is your attempt at acting more like an adult and less like a girl in her mid-twenties who has no clue what she’s doing.

One article stands out from the rest: Hollywood Actress Divorces Loving Husband of 25 Years to Pursue Presumed Soulmate. “I saw his scars and knew he was the one.”

Interesting. You can’t help but feel sorry for the displaced husband, though.

“Good for you,” you mutter under your breath, clicking the link to read more. There’s a picture of the actress and her new boyfriend that makes you stop dead in your tracks: they’re smiling at each other, their faces close, noses almost touching, while they show off their matching scars—the unmistakable sign that they’re, in fact, soulmates.

Soulmates, superheroes, mutants. It all sounds like a whole lot, doesn’t it? Overwhelming, to say the least. One thing’s for sure—you’ll never get bored in this world.

But, hey! Don’t forget that there are multiple universes out there. Maybe in one of them, you’re not this pathetic.

Why are you being so hard on yourself? That’s not even the point. Shaking your head, you keep glancing at their scars—they’re identical, perfect mirrors of one another. The kind of scars that only two destined souls share.

Their happiness is evident, tangible. You can feel it by just eyeing the image. It’s a bitter sensation that metamorphoses into a warmth, which heavily spreads through your chest, filling up every empty space it finds. 

To say you understand that feeling would be a downright lie. And you may be many things, but a pathological liar is not one of them.

As if on cue, you duck your head, rolling up the sleeves of your jacket. You do the same with your shirt, foolishly hoping to find something other than smooth, unmarked skin.

No scars. No marks. No sign of a soulmate, of a lover. In the world you inhabit—this universe full of the most inexplicable things—you’re alone. 

Without a second thought, you pack your things, shoving them rapidly into your bag. The cafe feels too little and too large all at once, the walls closing on you.

The rest of the customers are looking at you. Fuck, they already noticed it—you can’t escape it.

Have they? Do you think they see you like you see yourself? The lone woman who writes poems for an addressee who will never read them?

In silence, you hand Emily the money for your coffee. You fear that if you open your mouth, a cry will come out, and that’s the last thing you need today. She gives you that look again—pity laced with sorrow, the one you despise. It burns.

At that moment, a man walks in, passing right by you. You see his face, his green eyes, and the way his lips curl into a grin as he greets Emily.

The scar on her forehead, which you'd missed before, mirrors the one on his.

They are soulmates. 

It’s on the streets, on the bus, at work. Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is.

She wishes you a nice morning as you leave the cafe. Little does she know you’ll spend the rest of the day locked in your apartment, mourning someone you never even met.

Until the day you lost them, you wore your scars with pride.

They were scattered across your stomach, back, chest, and even your legs and arms. Some were shallow, others deep. It never occurred to you—the thought that they belonged in the shadows, hidden.

Everyone has them, you thought as you stood in front of the mirror, running your fingers along their jagged paths. I just seem to have more than most people.

Over the years, you might have changed your hairstyle or the way you dressed, but your scars never did—they’d always been there, and they were yours.

Partly yours, of course, since you knew they belonged to your soulmate as well.

The older you grew, the more you realized having a good memory was both a gift and a curse. You still remembered that moment so vividly—when you found out that somebody out there was meant for you and only you.

A point of no return, that’s what it’d been. From that day on, not a single one went by without you imagining the first encounter with your Prince Charming. 

In the meantime, you dated. A few boyfriends came and went during and after high school, mostly as practice for the real thing, you’d told yourself.

God, you were determined to know everything. To be the best girlfriend ever, so that when you finally met him, he’d be over the moon.

At the age of seventeen, it sounded like a brilliant plan.

You never knew how, but your life became that meantime. All your friends began to find their soulmates: in the supermarket, while traveling, at the goddamn doctor’s office.

Everybody was fulfilling the purpose you’d been taught humans were made for—everyone but you.

The scars multiplied, yet he was nowhere to be seen, remaining out of reach. Your soulmate’s whereabouts were a mystery. What the hell does he do in his free time? was something you used to often ponder. Is he suffering? Does he need help?

“Be patient, give it some time. The less you seek, the more you’ll find,” your mother would say, trying to sound encouraging. Although she was trying to do her best, that phrase alone had the power to make you go nuts.

Be patient? Waiting was all you’d been doing. What was so wrong with you that he seemed to be hiding from you? You didn’t want to wait any longer, no—you wanted to find him. If it meant traveling to Italy like your cousin had to meet her husband, then so fucking be it.

Many nights, sleep eluded you. Lying wide awake, staring at the ceiling, you’d imagine what life with him would be like. What he would look like. You were certain that no matter his appearance, you’d think he was beautiful.

Wasn’t that the whole point of soulmates—that the bond you two shared transcended physical attraction?

Nevertheless, you secretly wished he’d have brown hair. He didn’t need to know, but you had a weakness for brunettes.

On the night of your twenty-second birthday, you were getting ready for the big event when every trace of your scars disappeared.

The bathroom mirror was fogged from the shower’s stream, and as you wiped it clean with the palm of your hand, the image you saw reflected on the glass made your stomach do a flip.

There were no scars. No marks. Nothing. At first, you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you—it couldn’t be. Scars didn’t just vanish. It was impossible.

But as you lowered your gaze, tracing your limbs again and again, the truth hit you. The marks you knew by heart, the ones that reminded you, He’s out there, somewhere, were gone.

You felt it deep in your chest, too. Every sound seemed louder and clearer: the blood rushing through your veins, each shaky breath you took. Where are they? Your fingers dug into your flesh, intending to ground yourself.

Is he… dead? It was the only reasonable explanation, the rule you’d known all along. You’d read it countless times, memorizing the principles about scars.

The scream that tore from your throat brought your mother running upstairs, and she entered the bathroom with a horrified expression on her face.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” she asked, but your mind was already far away. Your whole body shuddered in her arms, a sob slipping past your lips as you crumbled to the floor, desperately hoping it was all a nightmare. “It must be a mistake, honey. I’m sure he’s okay.”

But he’s not, you wanted to tell her. The words, however, never formed—only a broken whimper escaped your lips. Isn’t that what we were taught? Our scars belong to our soulmates; they bind us to them in a way that simple words can’t explain.

It goes deeper than the skin. It delves into our bodies, our minds, reaching into the very essence of who we are. What was once his is also mine, but they’re gone.

He’s gone. He must be, because otherwise, how would you explain this void?

When one’s soulmate passes away, that person will notice the disappearance of their scars. The physical marks that once symbolized their connection fade, leaving no trace. This absence is accompanied by a distinct, unsettling sensation—an awareness of loss that goes beyond the physical, signaling the end of the bond.

A part of you died with him that day.

The first time you exchanged words with Wade Wilson, you thought he was a total dick.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t know him—not when he was so infamous for that mouth of his. Deadpool: the self-proclaimed superhero with a vocabulary that was 90% profanity, who made cracking jokes while fighting the bad guys look easy.

Super funny? Sure. But not exactly your cup of tea when all you wanted was to crawl into bed and forget the world existed.

He was apparently long retired from superheroing. No one had seen that red, sex-toy-looking suit in ages, which was why you were only mildly surprised as you spotted him hauling boxes into your building on a Tuesday afternoon.

It was late, and you weren’t in the mood for small talk. He’d been there barely a week, yet somehow, he’d already managed to fuck things up. 

You let out a deep sigh, rubbing the crease between your brows. “Look, Wally—”

“It’s pronounced Wade,” he corrected you, trying to edge his face further into the gap between the door and its frame, though you didn’t let your guard down. “You’re pretty rude, you know that?”

“I’ve been up for twenty-four hours, and I need to sleep,” you groaned, trying to push him away with one hand. Technically, he wasn’t even asking for something that complicated—he wanted to use your microwave to heat his dinner, since his had decided to stop working out of the blue.

The thing was that you’d had the kind of week that felt like a one-way trip to hell, an important detail he wasn’t aware of. “Go ask someone else. I can’t do charity tonight.”

“You’re the only one who answered,” he said, pressing his palms together in a pleading gesture, his lips curling into a heartbreaking pout. “Please, my lovely neighbor, whose name I don’t know. You wouldn’t want me to starve to death, would you?

“I thought you couldn’t die.” You raised an eyebrow, half-interested.

Wade’s arms dropped to his sides, his eyes drifting downward. “And I thought kindness wasn’t extinct, but here we are.” He spun on his heel, acting defeated and dragging his feet like a scolded puppy. “Can’t believe this is what the world’s come to. I’m sure the Bible says something about treating others how you’d want to be treated.”

Why. Just… why? Some cosmic, divine force from beyond might have been testing you that night.

“Wait,” you croaked just as he was about to step into his apartment—which was literally three meters from yours. His face lit up, expecting you to continue, and you moved aside slightly, signaling him in. “Five minutes and you’re out, okay? I really need to get some rest.”

The rest was history. Wade was just standing there, mesmerized by your microwave as if he’d never seen one before.

You could only hear the faint buzzing sound of the gadget, punctuated by the rhythmic drumming of his fingers on the counter. He was humming a tune while shaking his head to the beat.

You tried to focus, replaying the guided meditation you sometimes followed to sleep in your mind.

Allow yourself to feel the stillness of this moment. Notice your breath slowing as your body begins to calm. Be the observer of your breath, flowing in and out naturally, as your lungs—

Yeah, it wasn’t working.

“Please, stop it,” you eventually told Wade, whose gaze shifted from the microwave to you, brows furrowed.

“And why’s that?”

“They say it’s bad for your eyes,” you explained, recalling a half-forgotten news report you’d heard on the TV. Whether it was a myth or not, you’d never know. “I believe it’s because of the radiation exposure.”

Leaning back on the counter, he crossed his arms over his chest. “At this point, I think I’m safe. You, on the other hand… maybe not so much,” he nearly whispered that last part, and your desire to strangle him grew stronger.

Save me, mindfulness, you thought to yourself.

He jerked his thumb toward the pile of papers and books you had on your kitchen table. “So, you’re a writer?” 

“Editor, in reality,” you snapped, your eyelids twitching as you watched him leaf through your stuff. “Wade, don’t touch my things.”

“Sorry, can’t help myself. I’m very curious.” Flashing you a quick grin, he opened your notebook, squinting his eyes as he went through the pages. “But you write too, huh? I’m discovering plenty of material here.”

The bastard. “Give. It. Back,” you snarled, lunging at him and trying to snatch the notebook from his hands, but he was faster, raising it out of reach. “I hope your food explodes in that microwave, asshole.”

“Oh, right. I forgot about it,” he snorted, tossing the notebook onto the couch and retrieving his dinner instead. You stared at him in disbelief, opening your mouth to scold him, but nothing came out. Then, there he was, standing in front of you with his plate and a fork.

Wait. Was that your fork?

“It’s hot, I’ll give you that.” He blew on his food to cool it down, and as he glanced up, he was met with your murderous glare. “Whoa. Want some? You could’ve just asked me. No need to get so angry.”

Calling it a desire to kill him would’ve been an understatement. And the worst part? He couldn’t die. “You’ve got what you needed. Now, can you leave?”

“How long’s it been since you talked to another human being?”

You blinked, feeling the sudden urge to look around, half expecting a hidden camera. “Why do you always answer with another question?”

“All I’m saying is I’ve been meaning to talk to you for days now, but you’re practically living the hermit life,” he said between bites of chicken, excusing himself briefly to chew. “That robe you’re wearing? It’s had the same stain on it since I moved in. Also, your doormat’s buried under a mountain of newspapers, so either you really love trees, or you’ve been avoiding any sort of social interaction.”

If he had been wrong, you would’ve felt much better. But he… wasn’t, and it sucked.

“I feel like I should be scared,” you mumbled after a long stretch of silence, your eyes going round.

Wade did no more than laugh at your troubled expression. “Scared of me? That’s cute. I’m a nice guy, sweet pea. Persistent, sure, but I’ve got a knack for getting under people’s skin,” he said, grinning through a mouthful of food—which, for the sake of your sanity, you chose to ignore.

After he had finished eating, he let the fork fall into the sink, the metal striking against the surface with a piercing echo, making you jump. He stretched his arms with a satisfied yawn, and he seemed determined to leave you alone. “Well, I’ve done my good deed for the day.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, following his movements as he ambled toward the door. “Are you telling me your microwave does work?”

“Oh, you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” Wade patted your head, ruffling your hair like you were a puppy who had just learned a new trick. “Good night, peanut.”

From that moment on, the two of you became inseparable. Your personalities clicked in a way you’d never experienced before with any other friend. Wade was loyal to a fault, and he treated you like the little sister he had never had. 

Most importantly, he didn’t pity you—he saw you for who you were, not just someone marked by a lost soulmate. You never told him how much that meant to you, but deep down, you were grateful.

Which brings you to the present day. You’ve been friends with him for over a year, and he’s taken every chance to introduce you to his “weird but lovable” (his words, not yours) group of friends.

“Check your social anxiety at the door, thank you,” he’d tell you every time he hosted a get-together and you were invited.

Somehow, you had managed to bond with them—especially Althea, his elderly roommate, who occasionally forgets who you are despite living next door.

“Remind me of your name again, sweetie? All this disco dust must be affecting my memory,” she’d ask, leaning in close so you’d practically have to shout it into her ear. Then she’d nod, smirking knowingly. “Ah, yes. I thought so. Just making sure.”

She’s quite the character. A real sweetheart if you leave aside the number of times she’s offered you more types of drugs than you knew existed.

Tonight, you’re throwing Wade a surprise birthday party. Among all the party tasks, you’ve handled the decorations and the cake. The room’s a riot of color, with balloons floating lazily from the ceiling and a cascade of streamers draping over the furniture.

Guests start arriving, greeting you warmly, a feeling you once thought impossible. They’re Wade’s friends, sure, but on some level, you like to think they’re your friends now too: Vanessa, Dopinder, Buck, Shatterstar, Colossus, Negasonic Teenage Warhead, and Yukio.

As you hear footsteps approaching the door, Wade’s voice filters through the hallway. Panicking, you whirl around to the group. “He’s here! Everyone shut up!” you whisper urgently, turning off the lights and pressing your back flat against the wall next to the door.

Seconds later, the sound of keys jingling fills the air as both Wade and Peter step into the apartment.

You flip the lights back on just as Dopinder pops his much-anticipated party popper. “Surprise!” you all scream in unison, and Wade’s face splits into a grin, unsure of whom to hug first.

“You guys are lucky I’m not armed,” he quips, slinging an arm around Dopinder’s shoulders. “Six years ago, you’d all be dead!”

And you giggle, because… well, what else are you supposed to do?

As you expected, the night unfolds smoothly. You’re having fun, engaging in conversations despite yesterday’s emotional meltdown at the cafe. It’ll be okay—it always is. The food is amazing, the company even better. You remind yourself that romantic love isn’t the only kind that matters—that’s what friends are for, after all, to teach you that lesson.

The low hum of chatter fills the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses, creating a lively symphony that wraps around you like a warm blanket. Yukio calls your name, waving her head in front of your eyes, trying to snap you out of your thoughts. “Everything okay?” she wonders, concern flickering in her voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, tightening your grip on your beer bottle. “Just thinking, that’s all.”

You all gather around the cake when Wade’s about to blow the candles. You know he’s preparing himself for a speech. “Another year of spinning around the moon, huh?”

“Sun, you dumbass,” Al corrects him, and you have to bite your lip to keep your laughter to yourself.

“Okay, flat-earther,” Wade shoots back, giving her a playful side-eye. “Anyway, where was I? Oh, right—I can’t thank you all enough for being here. These past few years have been... well, rough on me, to say the least,” he says, glancing down at the cake with a small, crooked smile. “But I’m happy now. We’ve got each other’s back, like a team!”

“Like The Avengers, you mean?” Dopinder pipes up, eyes sparkling with excitement. There’s a moment of silence in which you swear you’d be able to hear a hairpin drop.

It’s still a sensitive topic.

“Next time, give me a trigger warning before you mention them,” Wade mutters in a hushed tone, and Dopinder shrinks sheepishly. “I guess what I wanted to tell you was…” he trails off, his palm covering the place where his heart is, “that I'm glad you’re all here. Being surrounded by the people I love most is the best birthday gift ever.”

His words stir something inside you. Vanessa gently nudges his arm, smiling up at him. “Why don’t you make your wish?”

Wade dramatically drops to his knees in front of the cake, eyes fluttering shut before blowing out the candles, whistles and cheers erupting all around.

Just then, you hear the unmistakable sound of the doorbell ringing through the air. You exchange a curious glance with Wade, raising your eyebrows. “That’s weird. Want me to get it?”

“Nah, I got it,” he says, excusing himself to answer the door. He slips outside, shutting it behind him, and everything returns to normal. For a while, you assume he’s chatting with someone who dropped by to say hi—but that doesn’t really make sense.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that he’s been out there so long?” Vanessa inquires, her worry starting to creep in.

“I’ll go check on him,” you tell her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before heading to the door.

But when you open it, there’s no Wade in sight. Just… his toupee—or “hair system” as he insists on calling it, lying on the floor.

Kneeling down, you gingerly pick it up, a strange sensation settling in your chest.

Where the hell did he go?

After his existence went downhill, Logan turned to prayer.

Completely out of character, right? He thought so too. The number of times he'd stepped foot inside a church could be counted on one hand, so why would a man like him resort to religion?

In the past, he had been told he was part of God’s plan, but somewhere along the way, he felt like he had become God’s mistake.

After living a life plagued with loss and constantly in hiding, he wasn’t shocked that his self-worth was in the gutter.

Things only spiraled after letting everyone down, especially after that particular day when things took a turn for the worse. He had prayed, asking God to make him forget.

When that didn’t work, he just drank harder and smoked more. But not even drowning in alcohol and clouds of nicotine could put an end to his struggles—he was condemned to suffer.

In spite of everyone’s wishes, he’s still going strong, stuck with no defined purpose. It’s almost impossible not to fall into a routine that seeks to numb him, to put him under anesthesia—waking up after passing out who-knows-where, finding the nearest bar, sinking into whiskey and the haze of ashtrays.

Then he does it all over again, a never-ending cycle. His self-destructive habits don’t lead him to oblivion; instead, they intensify every sensation, making each memory and emotion painfully vivid. 

Day after day, he convinces himself he’s got it under control. Logan may be tough as fuck, and he may heal faster than anyone else, but his pride is in pieces.

No amount of strength or supernatural abilities can stop the decay he feels inside, the slow rot creeping deeper within him the longer he remains trapped in this life.

He slams the empty glass onto the counter with a heavy thud, tapping two fingers against it. “Again,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

The bartender looks at him like he's the reincarnation of all things vile. “I told you—you’re not welcome here. You’re not welcome anywhere. Now get the fuck out of my bar.”

Oh, yes. Music to his ears. If he had a nickel for every time he heard that, he’d be rich. “Just give me one more drink and then I’ll leave.”

“That’s not how it works,” the bartender replies, and Logan knows he’s screwed. Another public establishment he’s been banned from—fucking perfect.

Will there ever be a day where he’s not treated like garbage?

“It does now,” an unknown voice joins the conversation, and Logan glances to his side, arching a brow. The masked man doesn’t let his stare falter. “Leave the bottle.”

“Do I know you, bub?” 

“You don’t, but I know you.”

This serves as evidence of how pliant he’s become. Years ago, he would’ve already wiped the floor with this guy. They didn’t call him Logan “short fuse” Howlett for nothing. But now? He just can’t bring himself to do it.

“Everybody does. I’m the—”

Here it comes, the reminder of his personal calvary.

“—Wolverine.” Once he finishes the sentence, his words taste bitter. Perhaps it’s the venom on his tongue, or maybe it’s just the alcohol from yesterday kicking him again. Either way, both hit hard.

“Yes, you are,” the stranger says, continuing to stare at him, as if Logan’s worth the effort. “And I’m going to need you to come with me. Right now.”

Logan holds his breath. The worst part of it all is that his day’s just getting started. He has no clue who this guy is or why he’s claiming to need him.

But he’s got the wrong man—Logan doesn’t know him, and he sure as hell doesn’t have anything good to offer.

Or so he believed five minutes ago. Life seems to have its own way of surprising him.

Knowing he’ll regret it later, he closes his fingers around the whiskey bottle, chugging the liquor until darkness takes over his senses.

Nighty-night, Logan.

I'm aware that you're not mine, and nor will you ever be.

I’ve spent sleepless nights trying to figure out

where this need to call you mine stems from. 

You're like an antique, a rare piece displayed

in a crowded bazaar, drawing curious glances.

I’m aware that you're not mine

because I haven't bought you yet;

I hold no claim over you,

nor can I control who touches you and who doesn't.

I want you to be mine,

but no amount of money would buy your soul.

You're beyond reach—someone has already marked you.

I’m aware that you’re not mine, 

and I guess maybe that’s how life is meant to be.

“Bullshit,” you mutter softly into the quiet of your apartment, where the only sound is the echo of your own voice.

Chewing the end of your pen, your eyes narrow as they skim over the poem you’d written over a month ago.

Since then, you’ve been working on refining the details, but something is missing—that you can feel. The flow is awkward, the choice of words stiff. It’s like a puzzle that doesn’t quite fit together. 

You take a long sip from your coffee, tucking both knees up onto the chair you're sitting in. 7:30 a.m., and already, your mind is spinning, diving headfirst into a poem when countless other things are demanding your attention—like, a hundred things, really.

Right now, cracking this piece feels more important than any other task on your list.

Who do you write to? That part is easy—your soulmate. That deceased, probably buried, long-gone soulmate of yours.

It shouldn’t be funny, but there’s an absurdity to it.

Without warning, a memory slips into your thoughts—one girl you used to work with once advising you to change the subject of your writing.

“You should go for some self-love crap. People usually eat that up,” she said, not even bothering to look up from her nails, red polish smeared over the edges.

Her fingers were a mess, coated in that fiery hue, but she didn’t seem to care as she tapped your notebook with her lacquered index finger. “This is repetitive. Keep writing about the same thing, and people will get bored of you.”

“I haven’t published them yet,” you answered, your voice coming out more high-pitched than usual, betraying the doubt you intended to suppress. Her blue eyes flicked up, studying your face as you slid the now red-stained notebook back into your bag, away from her careless, messy fingers. “I thought… I thought we were supposed to write about what we feel passionate about.”

That managed to catch her attention. Passionate. She let out a laugh—sharp and cold, like something straight out of a villain’s script in a children’s movie. It grated against your ears.

“Sweetie, you call that passionate?” She waved her hand dismissively, standing up from the table.

Taller, older, and more secure—just the fact that she gave you her time should’ve made you feel grateful. “Not to be a bitch, but what you showed me is kind of depressing.” 

Kind of depressing. From that moment on, you kind of hated her. Small victories, though—the agency fired her a year later. You like to think you kind of won that battle.

Still, she might’ve been right about one thing: your writing does fall into patterns. It’s predictable, to say the least—the rhythm, the themes. Even the metaphors you include can be found in several of your poems.

Are you… lazy? Has someone revealed the way to break out of it? If there is, you figure you're fine without it.

You don’t want to write the kind of articles she’d churn out about the latest trends or the five best positions to get pregnant faster. Nor do you want to pick apart celebrities' lives for a flashy headline.

What you do want is to write about love. Real love. Even if you are not the most qualified person to do it. Even if nobody wants to read the words from someone who has never experienced it in the flesh.

And you’ll get there—how? You’re still figuring that out.

As long as you live and breathe, love will remain in your thoughts, haunting you—especially with your muse being the fleeting dream of a soulmate you never got to meet in the first place.

But it’s time to start your day—the real one. The one where you have to step outside the safety of your four walls and deal with reality.

The to-do list assembles in your mind: groceries, that book you’ve been meaning to pick up, emails you need to answer.

You let your mind take over, guiding you through the motions without a second thought. As you head back to your room, you get rid of the comfortable robe you love so much.

Next, your shirt comes off, tossed carelessly onto the bed. Just as you're about to step out of your pajama pants, you notice them.

The scars.

They’re not the same, not the faded lines etched into your skin that you could see every night behind your eyelids. New marks glow against your flesh, each one a map of something you don’t yet understand, standing out like new brushstrokes on an old canvas.

You can’t help but freeze, your breath faltering for a moment, and you nearly trip over yourself. Kicking your pants to the side, you stare down at your hips, thighs, the hollow of your ribcage. 

Tentatively, you press your fingers into the lines, expecting them to fade, to disappear under your touch like some peculiar illusion.

But they don’t. They remain. You can feel the raised edges, the subtle roughness, the heat beneath your touch.

These scars are different from the ones you had before. Under no circumstances are they the faint memories you once carried. No—these are fresh and vibrant. Marks that shouldn’t exist, the stories they’ve witnessed unfamiliar to you.

Within seconds, you’re sobbing, and you blink through the wetness clouding your vision, wiping your tears of disbelief (and maybe hope?) away with the back of your hand.

Nothing changes. They’re still there.

You've never heard of scars returning like this. It goes against everything in the manual on your shelf. Scars vanish when a soulmate dies, but they don’t come back. Not like this. And they certainly don’t change. 

Barely able to stand without stumbling, you scramble to your phone. The first person you call is your mom, your fingers shaking as you press the buttons. She screams into the phone, and all you can do is laugh through the tears.

What doesn’t sit right with her is the change in the scars. She mentions something about reaching out to a specialist, insisting that your case is rare—one in a million.

Almost immediately, you think of Wade, knowing he’d want to hear this. God, he’d be ecstatic. Before you even realize it, you’re standing in front of his door, finger hovering over the bell.

That’s when the realization hits you: he’s been gone for nearly three days, off doing whatever it is he does.

Ringing the bell, a smile tugs at your lips. News like these are meant to be shared.

“Althea, it’s me!” you call out, hoping she’ll hear you. You press your forehead against the door, fidgeting with your fingers. “I have something to tell you.”

Logan has had better days. Days that didn’t involve escaping The Void, fighting a hundred Wades, or saving an earth that wasn’t even his to begin with.

You know, normal days—of being sneered at while drinking to forget and, fuck, how many hours has he been sober? It feels like an eternity.

When the adrenaline wears off and the heroism fades, he’s back to being just Logan again. If he had a watch, he’d probably tap the glass and fake impatience to Wade, pretending he’s got somewhere else to be.

He should leave. That’s his first impulse: to escape before it’s too late, but a question arises in his mind: does he truly want to?

Wade watches as Logan rises to his feet, planning to walk away. Pretty stupid, Logan thinks, considering he knows no one else in this universe—apart from the scarred man he’s become friends with against his will.

“Logan!” Wade yells his name, his voice light but firm enough to halt him in his tracks. Logan turns to face him, greeted by Wade’s familiar, infuriating smile.

It's a silent invitation to a new beginning.

Nothing’s holding him back, so why not accept it? The odds of being the target of hateful glares are lower here, and that’s reason enough for Logan to give a small tilt of his head and return to the bench where Wade remains seated.

“We’re gonna be roommates!” the latter exclaims, a wide grin stretching across his face as they head toward the building. “Can you imagine all the fun we’ll have?”

Logan presses his lips into a thin line. “Looking forward to it,” he murmurs, a small glimmer of sarcasm slipping into his tone, although Wade takes his words at face value.

“Me too, roomie. Me too.”

“Let’s not use that word.”

Wade holds the door open for Logan with an exaggerated bow. “Why not? It’s the truth. We can even share my bed if that’s—”

The sound of Logan’s claws succeeds in silencing him. Wade recoils and covers his crotch, no doubt remembering past close calls.

“You know what? You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch. No problem.”

Was moving in with Wade the worst idea he’s had in a while? Absolutely. The reason? Althea, the elderly woman he lives with, isn’t answering the door, and he doesn’t have his keys.

Logan covers his eyes with a hand, silently questioning all of his life choices. And it’s only been ten minutes.

“This doesn’t happen often,” Wade reassures him, rubbing his neck.

“Hard to believe,” Logan mutters, some unknown muscle in his jaw beginning to ache from how hard he’s gritting his teeth. “You just leave the house without your fucking keys?”

Wade huffs, jutting out a hip in mock offense. “Those TVA guys didn’t exactly send a ‘We’re here to ruin your day’ memo. I was ambushed, okay?” he retorts, keeping a finger glued to the doorbell, its shrill ring gnawing at Logan’s already thin patience. “Al, I swear to God, I’m replacing your blood pressure pills with laxatives if you don’t wake up!”

“How old is she?” Logan asks, searching for anything to keep him from snapping the other man’s neck. Peaceful thoughts.

“Compared to you, she’s basically a newborn,” Wade replies, rocking back and forth on his heels. He’s having the time of his life—meanwhile, Logan’s self-control is reaching its limit.

His claws twitch in his knuckles. He’s had enough, and with a jerk of his left hand, they gleam as they slide out, ready to break the damn door. 

But then Wade jumps in front of him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy there, buddy! I’m not letting you turn my door into a strainer.”

“Move,” Logan barks, not an ounce of friendliness in his tone. His stare is flat, unfazed.

“I’d rather not. You can’t just go around breaking people’s doors, man. Not cool,” Wade blurts quickly, placing both hands on Logan’s chest, pushing him away. “How about I ask my neighbor, huh? I gave her a spare set of keys for situations like these.”

“I thought you said this didn’t happen often.”

“Well, life’s full of disappointments.”

Before Logan can answer back, Wade rushes to the door next to his, slamming his fist on it like a madman, his finger hammering the doorbell simultaneously.

The devil’s orchestra—a symphony straight from hell.

Logan grabs Wade’s wrist before he can knock again, hissing: “Have some manners, will you?” 

Wade tries to shake his arm free from Logan’s tight grip. “She’s in there. I know it,” he replies in the same tone, but now he uses his other hand to ring the doorbell with greater feeling.

After a pause, he stamps his foot on the floor, throwing his head back. “Come on! Is this how you treat me after being away? Shame on you, Missy!”

This neighbor must be very patient, Logan thinks, to keep up with a guy like Wade without often seeing red.

As the door finally swings open, his grip on Wade loosens, and his hand falls limply to his side.

“What… the fuck?”

The sound of your voice—soft, slightly groggy from sleep—pulls his attention away from the door incident. His gaze is fixed entirely on you—you look as if you’ve just rolled out of bed, which makes sense since it’s still early.

Back in The Void, Wade had rambled on about all his friends, you included. Logan recalls how he had described you: a book editor who lived on her own and loved reading. You were younger—but then again, who wasn’t younger than him?

The picture Wade had shown him, with you standing in the background, hadn’t done you justice. He had found you attractive then, but seeing you in person?

You’re… far more than he expected.

More beautiful, for starters.

Fuck. Why is he even thinking about that? He must’ve been staring at you for quite a while—you glance at him like a startled lamb, clearly feeling self-conscious under his unwavering stare.

“May I know,” you start, tightening your robe, “why you were banging on my door like that? I thought I was getting robbed for a minute.” You direct your question at Wade, avoiding Logan’s presence, which makes something tighten in his chest.

He finds the way you stifle a yawn endearing, though.

Okay, that’s enough, he tells his mind. Let it go.

Wade steps in first, dropping his mask on the nearest surface. “Hello, my dear. Oh, yes, I’m fine. Just a few scratches. No, I wasn’t partying—I was kidnapped. Thanks for asking.”

You draw in a long breath, rubbing your eyes to wake up once and for all, and then you proceed to gesture for Logan to enter. Even now, you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. “Do you—would you like to come in?”

Not only are you pretty, but also polite. He nods, muttering a gruff: “Yeah, thank you.”

As he walks past you, your shoulders brush briefly, sending an unexpected jolt through him. A tingling sensation on the verge of being electrifying that has him knitting his brows.

His gaze finds yours, searching your expression to see if you felt it too. But you look away, closing the door to go after Wade.

Great. You must think he’s a weirdo. 

“I’m always up for company, but why so early?” you ask your friend, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. “And are you going to tell me what happened the other day? You left without saying anything.”

Wade hops onto a stool at the kitchen counter, swinging his legs like a child. “You know Al. When it comes to sleeping, she’s like a much older version of Sleeping Beauty,” he replies with a grin, snatching the mug you were about to use for your morning coffee. “Thanks, you’re such a doll.”

“That was—mine,” you sigh, hitting him in the thigh, and Wade winces with a fake whine. “I don’t think I’ve missed you that much. Go back to being missing in action,” you say, grabbing another mug and filling it before raising it toward Logan. “Coffee?”

Logan hesitates. You’re treating him like you’ve known him for years, not minutes. “I’m… good.”

“You sure? I made it fresh, just before you guys arrived.”

“Don’t worry, I’m—”

“I love the chemistry here,” Wade interrupts your conversation, drawing your attention back to him, “but you still got the keys I gave you, right?”

You roll your eyes, blowing on your steamy coffee before answering. “I do, but I want answers first. And I want them now.”

Twenty minutes and a rambling, half-coherent story later, your drink has gone cold, and Logan’s patience is wearing thin… again.

Will he survive sleeping under the same roof as Wade? Stay tuned for more.

“And then I told Paradox ‘He has risen, babygirl’—”

“I think you’re being too specific,” Logan interjects, noting how you’re staring into space with wide eyes. “She seems confused.”

“I am,” you admit, rubbing your temples. He doesn’t blame you: Wade’s a terrible storyteller. You offer him a weak smile as you turn to him. “So… you’re from another universe.”

“Last time I checked.” His back collapses against the couch, groaning softly. He sits beside you, and the way your eyes sweep over him, taking in his disheveled and sweaty appearance, doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“And how is it? I mean, do you have—”

“I’m public enemy number one.”

Too harsh, idiot.

“Oh. That’s… good to know.”

Wade says your name, and you look to your right, lifting your brows. “Do you mind if I grab the keys myself? I need a shower. I’ve been marinating in sweat and blood for way too long.”

You grimace, pointing toward your room. “Top drawer of my nightstand.”

With that, he embarks on a quest to find them, leaving Logan alone with you. Silence stretches between you two.

He doesn’t know what to say, or if he should even say anything. Casual conversation isn’t his forte.

“You and Wade…?”

Letting out a giggle, you lean back on the couch. “God, no. We’re just friends,” you explain, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. For a fleeting moment, your eyes bore into his, and then you return to burning holes in the floor. “I’m single. Haven’t found my soulmate yet.”

It’s his turn to chuckle now—a dark, humorless sound rumbling in his chest. You chew on a cuticle, Logan’s gesture igniting a sense of curiosity in you.

“What?” you ask him, puzzled.

“Do you really believe in that? Soulmates who share scars?” If he were to think carefully, he’d watch his tone. It’s too late, anyway—you straighten your posture, your face contorting with each passing second. “I can tell you do.”

“And I can tell you don’t.”

“Why would I? Those are lies,” he retorts, the corners of his mouth turning upward.

His opinion is anything but objective, totally biased, given that every time he dove into love’s arms, he was met with the crude reality: not everyone’s meant to be loved, himself included.

The look you give him is enough to wipe the smirk off his face. 

“Soulmates exist, Logan. We all have one.” There’s a certainty in your tone, marked by the subtle way in which you say his name, that he finds alluring. He shouldn’t, especially when you seem angry above all. 

“And where is yours, then?”

He regrets it as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your expression becomes inscrutable. You could be either disappointed, frustrated, or even exasperated—sad, perhaps?

Logan feels as though a weight has settled on his shoulders just from staring into your eyes.

You strike back with silence. Plain, pure, dreadful silence that has him wondering if he’s breathing properly.

At long last, Wade comes back from his expedition, keys dangling from his fingers. “It was quite the treasure hunt, you know? You’ve got a lot of garbage in there.” He sticks his face between Logan’s and yours when you don't answer him. “Guys, is there something wrong? Are you doing a staring contest? If so, can I join?”

“I need to start getting ready for work,” you announce, standing up from the couch. Logan mimics you, and you open the door, your fingers curling around the knob. “You should get going. And Wade,” you pause, acknowledging only him, “I need to talk to you later. In private.”

Without Logan. That’s what you wanted to say but didn’t.

“Sure, my queen. I live to serve,” Wade says in rejoinder, and he kisses your forehead briefly, which forces Logan to avert his gaze the whole time his lips are on you, feeling uncomfortable watching. “Take care, alright?” 

You give Wade a small nod, waiting until he’s outside your apartment to glance at Logan.

“Goodbye,” you croak, and he knows he should say something, that he—

The door almost closes on his nose.

Had he been an asshole? He was merely expressing his thoughts. The idea of soulmates didn’t sit well with him.

Once settled into Wade’s apartment, Logan steps into the shower, water rinsing off his body. Yet he finds himself unable to stop thinking about you.

The disappointment in your eyes when he asked about your soulmate.

The coldness in your tone at the end, so different from the warmth you initially offered.

He feels drawn to you, as if some sort of invisible string is tying the two of you. Were it possible, he would use his own claws to cut it, but he can’t discern where it begins or ends. Instead, he prefers to blame his touch-starved state for this reaction. 

He’s already hating this earth. So much for a man whose skin refuses to scar.

And where is yours, then?

His words shouldn’t have stung the way they did. All the charm—the gruff exterior, the mysterious personality—had vanished.

The guy from another universe, with the claws, the healing abilities, and the raspy voice, is a moron.

A ridiculously good-looking moron? Yes, but a moron nonetheless.

There is something about him you can’t quite place. A chill creeps down your spine as you replay the instant your eyes first locked. Your body had reacted in ways it never had before, drawn to him like metal to a magnet.

Why? You’d seen handsome men before, even been with some. Yet, you’ve never felt this—this gravitational pull, this inexplicable pull to invade someone’s personal space.

How would your soulmate feel if he saw you like this, lusting after another man?

You shudder at the thought. This isn’t like you. You pride yourself on loyalty—perhaps a little too much. You don’t read two books at the same time, and you’ve been buying the same brand of shampoo for the past five years.

So why now? Why him? It feels like a betrayal of your own mind, your conscience turned against you.

Let things stay as they are—it’s safer that way. You don’t want to know the reason behind this forceful need.

After all, being his grumpy and ill-tempered self, he’ll stay holed up in Wade’s apartment, avoiding any interaction with the real world. And you? You’ll forget about him. Easy-peasy.

That afternoon, as you take a nap on the couch, he invades your dreams. It’s not even a wet dream, but he’s there, staking a claim on a part of you he has no right to.

You wake up with your hand clutching your chest, a frustrated punch landing on the nearest cushion.

The next day, you drop by Wade’s place for a quick visit, your eyes darting around the room every few seconds, half-expecting Logan to appear out of nowhere.

“I told you, he’s sleeping. That guy’s got a fucked up sleep schedule,” Wade says, urging you to take a seat beside him at the table. “Why don’t you wanna see him?”

Because he’s messing with your sanity. Your brain cells are practically disintegrating at the mere thought of breathing the same air as him.

“I just—I need to tell you something.”

“Are you pregnant?”

“What? Wade, no! You’ve been gone for three days—pregnancies take months.”

“I’d make an amazing uncle, though.” He grabs your hand between his, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Babies are so adorable at that—”

“My scars are back,” you cut him off, putting an end to his nonsense. Pulling the neck of your sweater to the side, you show him the thin lines etched into your collarbone. “But they are different this time.”

“Different? You mean they changed?” His disbelief is clear as he reaches for your arm, frowning while he inspects more of your scars. Wade’s jaw slackens, color draining out of his face. “Fuck. Fuck!”

“Fuck?”

“Yeah, fuck!” His strong arms envelop you, and you lean into the embrace, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “Is this good news? Are we happy? Does this mean I have a shot at becoming an uncle after all?”

You laugh a little at his eagerness, rubbing gentle circles into his back. “I am happy. I just—I don’t know what these changes mean yet.”

Althea steps out of the bathroom, her cane tapping the floor in rhythmic beats. “I already told you what they mean.”

Wade pulls away from you, glaring at her. “You meddler! Haven’t we talked about not eavesdropping? Hasn’t life taught you anything after all these decades?”

“Upside of being blind: I’ve never seen this motherfucker in Crocs,” she says, pointing her cane at you, though you know her aim is Wade. “Downside of being blind: I hear everything in this apartment. And you, kid, have a new soulmate.”

“I know what we talked about the other day, but... it doesn’t make sense, Al. You only get one soulmate,” you protest, feeling the tension grow as you pace around the table. “Why can’t it just be simple? My friends are getting engaged, years are flying by, and I’m still out here chasing this… this idiot who no one can even find!”

That’s when Logan appears, emerging from his room, holding several empty beer cans. He rolls his eyes and walks straight into the kitchen. “Great. Who else is coming tonight?”

Wade smirks, clapping a hand on Logan’s shoulder as he looks at you. “Sweetie, Logan’s going through his second puberty at the ripe old age of two hundred. The pediatrician said it’s just hormones, nothing to worry about. Excuse his shitty attitude.”

With a low groan, Logan shrugs off Wade’s hand, scowling. If anything, the younger man’s grin just grows bigger. “Wolvie, I gotta admit that whole ‘Don’t fall in love with me or I’ll break your heart’ personality shouldn’t turn me on, but here we are.”

You decide to take that as your cue to leave. You grab your bag, muttering a quick goodbye to Althea as you head for the door.

But Logan calls after you. “Can we talk?”

You freeze, your back to him. “How much did you hear?” you ask, not daring—not being able—to meet his gaze.

“All of it,” he admits after a beat, and you curse under your breath. “But it doesn’t—Hey!” He follows you into the hallway. “I’m talking to you!”

“No, you’re not.” You fumble for your keys, fingers shaking as you try to unlock your door. “Leave me alone.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles behind you, his voice softer now. “Come on. Don’t be so harsh.”

“I can’t believe you,” you whisper, finally finding the right key and jiggling it into the lock. The door swings open, and you step into the safety of your apartment. But when you try to close it, Logan’s foot wedges into the gap, blocking it. “Get out.”

He doesn’t budge. “No.”

“Logan, I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, me neither. But I owe you an apology.”

You wonder if he realizes the hold he has on you. No matter how hard you try to mask it, the unbearable pounding of your heart betrays you.

Scanning his features, you trace the rugged contours of his face with your eyes, lingering on the lines on his forehead—the aftermath of what it looks like a life lived through bitterness and pain.

“Can I come in?” he insists, his tone on the verge of sounding pleading.

You hesitate. The sensible part of you screams to send him away. Thinking that avoiding him would be as easy as stealing candy from a baby is a long-forgotten idea now: you’d been naïve to even consider it possible.

He’s going to find a way to sneak into your space, your home—and you’ll let him in. You’ll grant him a chance to cross a boundary that should’ve been already drawn.

It feels like you’re fifteen again, infatuated with the guy you know you shouldn’t get close to. Paul from high school wasn’t your soulmate back then—Logan isn’t now.

The smart thing would be to take a step back, accept his apology, and ask him to leave. That’s how you preserve what little remains of your sanity and protect your heart, which is already hanging by a thread.

But God, it feels so good to be near him.

You step aside. He walks in. Something tells you this won’t be the last time.

“I’m waiting.” You stay near the counter, pressing your back against it, and keeping your distance. Logan sits awkwardly on the edge of your couch, unsure of where to begin.

“Look, about what I said yesterday…I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” He sounds sincere, earnest. “I didn’t know you believed in soulmates.”

“It’s not a matter of believing in them or not, Logan. My soulmate is out there—yours too.”

Your words coax a grin from him, and he shakes his head. “I guess we’ll never see eye to eye on that.” In a fluid motion, he crosses the room, and you find his unexpected proximity a bit exasperating. “Do you forgive me?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Give me a break, darlin’. I’m trying my best.”

“Well, you were an asshole.”

“Yes.”

“The first time we exchanged words.”

“Also yes.”

“And now you’re apologizing.”

“Positive. I just did.”

It’s not that you’re easy—it’s Logan’s persuasive allure that gets to you.

“What else can I do to win your forgiveness?” he wonders aloud, his syrupy voice making you tighten your grip on the counter.

An idea sparks in your mind. You move toward the pile of books next to the TV, eyeing the titles, until one catches your attention: your copy of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, one of the first novels you’d read when you were younger.

It’s adorned with colorful post-its, and the pages, sort of rough to the touch, are marked with handwritten notes in the margins.

“How do you feel about reading?”

“Not my strongest suit,” he answers, arching a brow as he takes in your enthusiasm. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“You want me to believe you’re sorry for what you said? Then read this,” you say, wiggling the book in front of him, “and we can start over.”

“What is it about? Let me guess: love and soulmates. Did I get it right?” he asks, playfulness lacing his tone. His breath hitches as you press the book against his chest, silently urging him to take it. His pinky grazes your hand, feeling your skin and sending a jolt through you.

Logan watches you with half-lidded eyes, and it takes every ounce of willpower to tear yourself away from him and his maddening touch.

You clear your throat. “Open it to page one hundred fifty-three.”

“Do you—you remember specific pages?”

“And read what’s underlined in black,” you murmur, eyes fluttering closed for an instant. “Please.”

Logan must mutter something along the lines of ‘You’ve got to be kidding me’ before searching for it. It’s only then that he begins to recite the passage:

He is not to them what he is to me. He is not of their kind. I believe he is of mine; – I am sure he is – I feel akin to him – I understand the language of his countenance and movements; though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him. Did I say, a few days since, that I had nothing to do with him but to receive my salary at his hands? Did I forbid myself to think of him in any other light than a paymaster? Blasphemy against nature! Every good, true, vigorous feeling I have gathers impulsively round him. I know I must conceal my sentiments: I must smother hope; I must remember that he cannot care much for me. For when I say that I am of his kind, I do not mean that I have his force to influence, and his spell to attract; I mean only that I have certain tastes and feelings in common with him. I must, then, repeat continually that we are for ever sundered: – and yet, while I breathe and think, I must love him.

You’ve chosen a damn good page.

Logan looks up from the book, his mouth slightly parted, as if he’s about to speak. You interject before he can find the words.

“You’ve got a week to read it.”

“How long is it again?”

“Four hundred pages.”

He surrenders, sighing in defeat. “You’re killing me here, y’know?”

“Write an opinion essay if possible.”

Right there, Logan offers you a mock laugh. “Haha. That’s so funny.”

“It is for me,” you talk back, unable to hide your smile from him, and soon he mirrors your expression. 

As Logan steps toward the door, he hesitates and glances back. “We’re all good then?”

Leaning against the doorframe, you raise your chin defiantly. “We’ll be when you finish the book.”

What he says next has your stomach turning into knots. “You’re trouble.” His tone shifts—no longer teasing, but grounded in truth. Gone are the jokes; he seems to mean every word.

For the rest of the night, one line from the book doesn’t stop echoing in your mind—the line about soulmates: I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him. 

You’re trouble for him, and he’s trouble for you. You hope he knows it too.

He thought that not seeing you for a week would snuff out his feelings. That by next Wednesday, every thought tied to your name, every urge to uncover the last of your secrets, would be extinguished.

That's what time usually did: it diminished dangerous desires that couldn't afford to be voiced, and buried those longings that had no place in the light of day.

Logan now figures he’s been underestimating the spell you cast on him with just a few glances and the intensity of your eyes. He’s seen you animated, angry—both defiant and vulnerable.

Each of your gestures feels like a memory he can’t quite place.

The way you laugh, the right corner of your mouth lifting just slightly higher than the left—he swears it isn’t the first time he's seen a smile brighter than the sun.

Still, he convinces himself it’s all in his head. He must be the one losing his mind, the years finally catching up to him. It’s the only reasonable explanation for the thoughts that consume his every waking moment.

He’s wrong—you’re right. He’s seeing things where there are none—you’re simply too kind.

Too kind. Too young. Too damn clever for your own good, with your books and that sharp mind of yours. He wonders how you see yourself.

Do you like the reflection in the mirror? Are you content with the way your life has turned out?

Do you, too, lie awake at night, the bed stretching endlessly, aching for a touch that never comes?

The walls in this place are paper-thin. When darkness falls, and the moon rises, the big, scary Wolverine can’t close his eyes.

Instead, he listens.

Some nights, you play the same movie on repeat—a romantic comedy that lasts exactly one hundred and twenty minutes. For two hours straight, he’s privy to your laughter, your commentary at the characters on the screen.

He hears you cry when the lead couple drifts apart after a terrible argument, but they always find their way back to each other, and you watch every second until the credits roll.

None of the other films you pick ever ends in heartbreak, he realizes. They all have happy endings—the kind you wish for yourself.

One way or another, there must be a way to get you out of his system. He knows, without a doubt, that you wouldn’t want him. He’s not your soulmate, and it’s clear that finding that person has become the center of your existence.

Logan can’t allow himself to be the moron who derails your purpose.

Sure, he’s done bad things, but he likes to believe that at least a part of him—some small fraction—hasn’t been lost yet. That there’s a piece of him that can be saved, which is the reason why he stayed here: to be a better man than the one he was in his universe.

But it’s hard. Harder still because it’s you who disrupts his quest for redemption. How is he supposed to go on with his life when every thought circles back to you? The idea of holding you, kissing you—sleeping beside you haunts him.

And so the images blur, new dreams twisting with his usual nightmares.

Which one is worse, he can no longer tell.

One afternoon, while deliberately steering clear of Jane Eyre, he reluctantly turns to Wade in search of answers. “Tell me more about her.”

Wade, lounging on the couch, stops scrolling on his phone and drops it onto his chest, drawing his eyebrows together.

“Her? Who do you mean?” His tone oozes with feigned innocence, barely containing a shit-eating grin when Logan grits out your name, his tone rough, almost pained. “Oh, Romeo. You’ve got it bad.”

Intending to maintain some semblance of control, Logan strides into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and the last bottle of whiskey. As he tips it, only a few drops fall into the glass.

“No, I don’t,” he says, extending his arm and holding the bottle up. “We’re out of whiskey.”

“You keep saying we, but you’re the only alcoholic in this apartment.” Wade kicks off his shoes, propping his feet on the coffee table. “So, why the sudden interest in the lady? She getting through that tough exterior of yours? I’ll give her points for that.”

“And you wonder why I don’t talk to you.”

“I saw the book,” the younger man replies, lacing his fingers behind his head, watching as Logan rummages through the fridge with increasing frustration. “You never told me you were into classics. If I’d known, I’d have gotten you a copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

“Shut your mouth.”

“I’m sorry, weren’t you the one who came to me, looking for the essential oil of truth?”

The silence that follows is thick and uncomfortable, mood-killing.

“See what I just did there?” he adds, and Logan feels forced to shake his head from side to side, appearing conflicted. Wade lets out a low huff. “That was Virginia Woolf. Add her to your reading list.”

“Has anyone ever told you how obnoxious you are?”

“More times than I can count. I’m just not everyone’s cup of coffee.”

“Tea, Wade. Not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“Whatever.” Wade simpers, as though Logan’s correction is the punchline to a joke only he gets. He sets his palms flat on the table, looming closer with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, what would you like to know about my dear friend?”

Logan hesitates, the weight of his question heavy on his tongue. “What’s the deal with her scars?”

The air shifts. Wade’s playful expression fades and he tilts his head, his tone turning serious. “I don’t think it’s my story to tell,” he begins, gaze dropping to the floor. “But she lost them years ago. She was living a normal life, and one day, they were just—gone, like they were never there. It broke her. We didn’t know each other back then, but you’ve seen her.”

Wade’s eyes flick back up, while Logan stands there, tongue-tied. “You even know the kind of books she reads—nothing can shake that belief in real love, in soulmates being destined. Imagine how she must’ve felt when she found out her presumed soulmate was dead… without a single warning.”

From what he had heard, that sense of loss was impossible to put into words. Those who’d gone through it described the experience as if half of you—your body, your soul, your very essence—was being ripped away.

The pain was excruciating, and the only way to survive it was by means of tolerating it—no remedy, just the endurance to outlast the agony.

It wasn’t just a momentary hurt. It was the kind of torment that lingered, making you question who you were and what little remained of you.

You and Logan had more in common than he’s willing to admit.

“She’s a good person,” he mutters absent-mindedly, his thumb grazing the cover of the book. He had carried it everywhere for a week now, without even cracking it open.

“Oh, you dirty pig…” Wade whispers, his eyes lighting up as if a lightbulb suddenly went off in his mind. “Now I get it. You wanna know her. Like, really know her!”

“I don’t—”

“Your sex life is none of my business. I’m all up for you putting your mutant dick to work, otherwise it’s just wasted potential. But it’s my friend we’re talking about.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, and he snaps. “Drop the speech, alright? I’m not trying to get into her pants. I just want to be nice. That’s all.”

“Nice, huh? What’s your version of nice? Starting a two-person book club?” Wade stifles a laugh, pressing a finger to Logan’s chest. “Look, if you want to sleep with her, and the feeling’s mutual, then go for it. Just tell me this—how long’s it been since you visited Pussy Village? Was it before or after the Big Bang?”

Things are never truly serious with Wade Wilson. “I’m not answering that.”

Wade raises both hands in surrender, still chuckling. “Fine, fine. But if you’re really interested, just be clear about it. She doesn’t need a half-assed situationship.”

By now, it’s like a mantra he repeats again and again, hoping that eventually both Wade and he will start to believe it. “I don’t want to have sex with her.”

As he heads back to his (now Wade’s old) room, Wade adds, “I’m sure she’d appreciate it if you underlined some quotes you like.”

Much to his dismay, that’s exactly what Logan does.

His handwriting isn’t the most legible, but he tries his best, leaving notes in the margins of some pages, such as:

I hate this John kid.

Her aunt is a cunt.

This is too cheesy.

Mr. Rochester’s married?

St. John—what a prick.

He finishes the book at 7 a.m. A long-ass book—just for you. While getting ready for work, Wade calls him an unemployed fucker, and Logan knows nothing better than to shoot back a similar insult, stretching his arms as the first rays of sunlight creep through the curtains.

Wade was right about something, even if Logan himself doesn’t wish to admit it: he’s behaving like a teenager—staying up until dawn, practically chained to the bed without daring to go out. Falling for a girl he didn’t know a week ago.

Learning to control his impulses has been a hard task, especially with his temperament. Over the years, Logan thought he’d mastered the art of self-restraint, long past the point where his body moved without his mind’s permission.

As his feet carry him down the hall toward your apartment, he recognizes how wrong he is.

This is a terrible idea, he thinks. And yet, his fist knocks on the wood. Three times.

Fuck.

The door opens just a crack. You peek out, your face barely visible, eyes puffy from sleep. “Logan?”

His name isn’t a fancy one. It’s pretty normal, pretty standard. There must be a thousand other guys named like him—yet it’s only when you say it, your voice turning it into something rare and unique, that it feels different, like it’s only his.

The tone you use with him isn’t the one he’s used to: Logan, you’re a disappointment. Logan, how dare you turn your back on your friends? Logan, they’re all dead. Logan, it’s your fault.

Yours is inviting, and warm, and new. He likes new.

“I just finished it,” he answers, holding up the book, mindful not to grip it too tight as not to crumple the pages.

You scratch the back of your head, blinking at him. “You just finished it… at 7 a.m.?

Yeah, it sounds stupid now that you say it out loud, but it’s true. Hoping his reaction is enough to explain what he can’t put into words, he gives you a slow nod.

This time, you don’t wait for him to say more. “Come in?”

Yes, this is what he’s been looking forward all week. This moment, this interaction.

This Come in. This Yes, thank you. You’re so kind.

His quiet acceptance of your invitation, the unpronounced thought of I don’t deserve this, but I can’t back off now, because how could I ever say no to you?

He follows you into the kitchen as you move to make tea. “Want some?” you ask, but he declines the offer. If he were to drink anything right now, it would be something much stronger, not tea, despite the early hour. “You’re here to talk about the book?”

“Well, you told me I could come back after reading it.”

“I did,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips as you hide it behind your mug. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be so punctual.”

You don’t need to know that he’s been counting down the seconds, marking each minute in his mind since the last time he saw you. That’s a detail he’ll keep to himself. “It’s a good story.”

“Tell me about it.” You smile even wider, and he takes a moment to absorb the details of your face—the crinkles by your eyes, the way your nose scrunches when you’re amused. “I lent you my most precious book. Fell in love with it years ago.”

“I can see why you liked it,” he explains, flipping through the pages to find the one he marked. “All the romance and the yearning—”

“Hey, it’s also good for other reasons,” you try to defend yourself, but any other argument dies on your lips when he finds the passage he was looking for and begins to read aloud.

“I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you, especially when you are near me, as now,” he recites, his voice lower, almost reverent, as he looks up from the page to meet your gaze. “It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your frame.”

You seem startled by the sharp sound of him closing the book. He’s sort of breathless, and from where he stands, he can tell you are too. “That’s one of my favorite passages.”

“I can’t blame you for believing in soulmates if this is the kind of thing you read growing up,” he teases, handing the book back to you.

Though a part of him almost wishes he didn’t have to—so that it would still be a reason, a tether, pulling him back to you again and again.

Grinning, you take it, your eyes remaining trained on his. “I happen to notice it hasn’t changed your perspective on soulmates.”

“It’ll take more than a book.”

“This is, in my opinion, one of the best love stories ever written. How else will I convince you?”

“Why do you feel like you need to convince me?” He takes a step forward—you take a step back. “Why can’t it be the other way around? I might end up being the one who convinces you.”

“You could never,” you respond, clasping your hands behind your back. “It would be like convincing me the sky is green instead of blue.”

Logan retreats slightly. “Don’t you get tired?”

“Of what?”

“Of waiting. Of always being on the lookout.”

You don’t react badly to his question. You’re not even shaken, not fazed in the slightest. “When I meet him, I’ll know all the waiting was worth it.”

“And in the meantime?” Logan inquires, pressing himself further into your intimacy, edging closer as if testing the boundaries you’re willing to cross. His words are a subtle request for more, for answers. “What will you do until you find him?”

If you ever do, he thinks, but it’s left unsaid, lingering in his thoughts. He’s getting better at not saying the things that sit heavy in his chest without thinking.

“I think you misunderstand, Logan.” You study him through your lashes, and he feels he’s become the keeper of your most sacred secrets. “It’s not about waiting as if my life’s on pause. I’ve been with other people. But in the end, I want to choose him.”

That casual admission strikes him like a wave of cold water. A flicker of jealousy burns at the edges of his composure, though he tries to smother it.

I’ve been with other people, you say, your tone so nonchalant, and yet the mental images that flood his mind are anything but comfortable.

He imagines someone else standing in your kitchen. Perhaps in five minutes, there will be another man knocking on your door, here to discuss a book, and it won’t be him.

Perhaps this isn’t rare for you—all this come in, grab something to drink, let’s talk when you’re done reading.

Perhaps he’s not as important as you make him feel.

His thoughts spiral until your voice pulls him back from the brink.

“Don’t you understand how beautiful it is?” There’s a dazzling glint in your expression, a light in your eyes that makes him ache. “Outside of these four walls, there’s a person who’s waiting to meet me, in the same way I expect to meet him. I can’t grant myself the choice not to believe in something like this.”

Far from easing the martyr in his mind, this conversation only deepens his internal struggle. The questions overlap each other: what happens if you never find him? Would you ever consider settling for somebody else?

He rephrases that last one—would you ever consider being with him?

“He’s a lucky guy,” Logan murmurs, and just like that, he feels himself slipping deeper, falling into the rabbit hole with you guiding him through the madness.

For a moment, he can pretend—pretend that matching scars and bonds that defy the rules of his principles make sense.

Maybe, just for you, he’ll allow himself to believe it.

Your eyes soften with sudden emotion, glistening with the beginnings of tears. He feels the primal urge to reach out, to cup your cheek, to be there when the first tear falls. “You think so?” you ask, your voice fragile.

I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you, especially when you are near me, as now.

“Of course I do,” he replies, his tone quiet but laden with a strange, undeniable truth.

It is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your frame.

Whatever this is between you—it’s messed up. He’s messed up. And you… you’re just as tangled in this chaos for indulging it, for looking at him in that way that calls out to him.

The more time he spends with you, the less he feels like himself. Everything he’s done lately—reading that damn book, standing in your apartment at 7 a.m.—none of it feels like something he’d do.

It’s not just his mind you’re messing with: it’s his very sense of self.

Logan’s smart mouth had always been a liability, getting him into trouble either by saying too much or by choosing the wrong words. Bad things had always followed in the wake of his tongue.

Somehow, when it comes to you, he’s the most careful he’s ever been. He doesn’t want to upset you, nor does he want to be the cause of any sorrow that might affect your heart.

When the two of you stand at the threshold once more, just as you have other times before, you softly say: “I feel like I’m experiencing a déjà vu.”

He laughs, because it sounds ridiculous. “Care to explain why?”

“You come, we talk, you leave.” You lean against the wall, your hand ghosting over the handle. “But you never stay that long.”

There’s no mistaking the layered meaning in your words. You, who work with language and its peculiarities for a living, never speak by chance—every phrase, every pause, carries an assigned weight. The double meaning in your statement doesn’t escape either of you.

You’re a natural at this madness, diving headfirst into it. You must be losing it, too, because your actions don’t match what you said before.

Slowly, his fingers brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the perfect excuse to feel your skin, to close the distance without saying what he actually wants.

They say food and shelter are the basic human needs, but Logan chooses to believe they forgot to include the longing to reach out and just feel you.

“I can’t stay,” he finally responds to your earlier comment, his hand still lingering against your skin.

His strength—the only thing saving him from completely giving in—helps him pull himself away.

Before the impulse to kiss you becomes too overwhelming to resist, Logan leaves.

Some time later, you’re making lunch, music playing softly in the background at the same time the city’s distinct noise finds a way to break through your tranquility.

You rely greatly on the knowledge that you’re good at multitasking—now more than ever, with a book in one hand and the other stirring the pasta on the stove.

The warmth from the pot rises around you, but you trust yourself not to be careless. Not to be stupid enough to burn yourself with the boiling water.

This time, you miscalculate. Not only do you dip the wooden spoon into the pot, but your fingertips too.

Though it only lasts a second, and the voice in your head instantly screams Hot! Hot! Hot!, the shock makes you drop the book to the floor. You yank your hand back, racing to the sink to run it under cold water.

“Fuck,” you grumble, watching the skin redden in protest. “Lesson learned: no more multitasking.”

The funny thing is, just a door away, Logan’s watching a movie with Wade when he feels a sting in the tips of his fingers.

It’s barely there, practically faint, but he looks down, inspecting his hand like it doesn’t belong to his own body. His skin briefly flushes with irritation before returning to its normal state.

Wade notices his distraction. “Hey, you okay?”

Logan pays no mind to it. “Sure. Just felt something strange.”

Is it still called avoiding if you’re both doing it? You’d like to think so.

For the sake of clarity, let’s say you’ve been actively avoiding Logan, but truth be told—he’s been avoiding you too. That last encounter in your apartment didn’t help matters at all.

If anything, it made everything worse.

You’ve been down this road before, knowing men like him too well: they’re everywhere, until they’re not.

One day, they vanish without a trace, leaving you staring at the empty space they used to occupy, asking yourself ‘What happened to my Prince Charming in disguise?’

They disappear as though they never existed, and not even the best detective can track them down.

So far, your avoidance strategy has worked wonders. Maybe it’s for the best. He’s a distraction—an undeniably attractive one, the kind anyone would want to trip over.

Yet you miss him, which is dumb: why are you missing someone you were never supposed to care about in the first place?

You return home after a long trip to the grocery store, arms laden with bags. It’s the kind of errand that exhausts you, though you keep telling yourself it’s better than thinking about him.

As you struggle to get through the building's exit, you resign yourself to the fact that it’ll take several trips to bring everything up to your apartment.

Then the elevator doors slide open, and you drop everything to the floor.

You should’ve known better than to assume victory so soon. After days of successfully avoiding him, there he is.

And of course, it’s when you look your worst—tired from running around, weighed down by groceries, barely holding it together.

“Hey,” he greets you, standing just outside the elevator, like he’s not sure if he should step inside or stay where he is. He’s dressed in a red-and-black flannel shirt, layered over a white vest, a leather jacket tossed over his shoulders, and a pair of jeans that seem made for him.

He looks... ridiculously good.

“Hi,” you manage to answer after a beat, scrambling to collect the bags you’d dropped. “Just—give me a second.”

“Let me help you,” Logan says, ducking down to gather the groceries, but you pull them away.

“I’ve got it. Are you going out? On a date, maybe?” You nod toward his clothes, trying to keep things light, teasing even.

Glancing down at himself, a crease appears between his brows, and in one swoop, he gathers all the bags with a single hand. “I’m supposed to meet Wade at a bar, but he’ll survive without me.”

“Logan, you don’t—”

But he’s already moving, one hand tugging you out of the elevator, the other gesturing toward your apartment.

“Not up for debate,” he mutters. Then, without waiting for permission, he holds out his hand. “Keys.”

Sighing, you dig into your pocket and drop them into his open palm. He unlocks the door with practiced ease, stepping inside and placing the bags on your kitchen counter.

As he starts to unpack them, you stop him. “You really don’t need to do that.”

That seems to catch his attention. He pauses, turning toward you with his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the counter.

His unrelenting stare sizes you up, and he cocks his head to the side. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

He thinks he’s so discreet, so smooth. “Well, I’ve been busy,” you explain, fiddling with the frayed edge of your sweater, tugging at it like it might unravel your nerves.

You hear him click his tongue. “Been busy too.” His words hang in the air, thickening the atmosphere. Your body tenses, and you stare at his shoes, until— “Sweetheart,” he calls you softly, and your eyes snap shut for a moment, your chin almost pressing against your chest. “My eyes are up here.”

A quick flutter of your lashes brings you back to him, and your chest tightens with the effort it takes to look into his eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” you ask, praying he’ll let this go.

You watch as his mouth twitches with something halfway between a smile and a smirk. “You already want me to leave?”

“If you have plans, then yeah.”

He huffs out a laugh, inhaling a shallow breath like you’ve missed something obvious. “Wade can wait. He’ll be fine.” His expression shifts, and the playful tone in his voice falls away, replaced by something more raw. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You can’t help but snort. “Oh, please. Like you haven’t been doing the same.” You walk over to the couch, feeling your legs wobble beneath you. You collapse into one corner, hoping the distance will help you breathe.

Like a shadow, Logan follows after you, sitting far too close. His legs splay wide, so wide they’re almost grazing yours.

“At least I have a reason for it. What about you?” His hand reaches out, fingers closing around yours in a grip that’s both firm and gentle, enhancing your anxiety. Your throat tightens, the room shrinking around you. “I need you to tell me I’m not crazy,” he says, his voice rough and low. “I need you to tell me you feel it too.”

Panic flares in your chest, and you scramble for time. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, but your voice cracks, the uncertainty leaking through the cracks in your bravado.

He doesn’t buy your acting. “You do. We can’t keep playing dumb. You’re gonna make me lose my fuckin’ mind one of these days.”

It’s not just his words—it’s the way he stands so close, heat radiating from his body, the roughness of his hand gripping yours like he’s terrified you’ll slip away.

The intensity of it all weighs on you in ways you can’t even begin to describe, leaving you breathless, caught between denial and desire.

“Logan, this isn’t—”

“What? Okay?” There’s a glimpse of mirthlessness in his tone as he speaks, his forehead furrowing. “I can’t stay away from you, don’t you see it? It feels too good to be wrong,” he utters, inching forward. You know you should take a step back, tell him to stop. Nothing good can come from this. “It takes two to feel these things. It can’t be just me.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to give in.” Blood pounds in your ears, your pulse racing as your heart hammers unpleasantly. Little shivers of ice run through your spine, and yet, your stomach burns with desire.

More than ever, you feel yourself slipping, your sanity at risk.

Logan runs his eyes up and down your face, agitated, almost going cross-eyed. “Earlier you asked if I was going on a date. Would you like that? Me being with other people? Kissing another woman?” His hot breath caresses your cheek, and you avert your gaze momentarily. “Answer me.”

Don’t do it. For the love of God, don’t. “I can’t—I don’t—”

“Come on, baby.”

“I don’t want you to be with other people,” you mumble, your lips almost grazing his, and that’s all he needs to grip your chin and pull you into a kiss.

His mouth moves hungrily over yours, pushing you back until the armrest digs into your lower back. A choked whimper gets lost in your throat, and you bring him closer by grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket, your chest pressing against his.

Logan bites down on your lip, soothing the sting with his tongue, and the moan you let out reverberates in the apartment.

“This is what you were hiding from me?” he rasps, his forehead bumping against yours. “These sweet sounds you make?”

You end up perched in his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips. He’s hard beneath you, and as you shift, your center makes contact with his erection through the layers of fabric.

Both of you sigh into each other’s mouths, your hips moving on their own accord, rocking slightly against his clothed cock. He hooks one of his arms around your waist, guiding your movements.

Everything seems to fall into place. Outside your window, birds chirp. The world feels lighter, like a better place. The beast inside you quiets, and for once, your mind is blissfully blank.

Logic? Error 404—not found.

You tug at his hair, and Logan growls, breaking the kiss. “Do that again.” He jerks under your touch, bucking up into you. Encouraged, you pull his hair again, fingers wrapping around a strand at the nape of his neck, and you’re rewarded with a deep groan.

He’s dizzy for it, but you’re no better, not when he trails his kisses down your neck, his mouth latching onto your skin, tasting the sweat and salt.

“I can’t control myself around you,” he murmurs, groping your tits, and you wail, the ache between your legs becoming intolerable. His hands slip under your sweater, caressing the scars on your back.

That’s when recognition settles over you.

What are you doing? And why are you doing it?

He ceases sucking your flesh when you go rigid on top of him. Pecking your lips once again, Logan’s hands cradle your face, his thumbs rubbing circles on your cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t understand how he does it, how he can remain so calm. Doesn’t he realize the gravity of this? “We have to stop.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me something you already know the answer to.”

His arms drop to his sides, releasing you from his hold. You push yourself off him, away from the couch, putting as much distance between you as you can.

Pressing your palms to your eyes, you shake your head. “God, I’m stupid. This is stupid.”

Your reaction seems to get on his nerves, his frustration somehow increasing. Logan stands, towering over you. “Was it stupid when you were dry humping me?”

“Fuck you, Logan.”

“I’m not the bad guy here. You kissed me back.” He doesn’t let up, trailing behind you as you try to escape. “You want me as much as I want you.”

“Will you stop saying that?” you bark, throwing your arms in the air. Your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. “Yeah, we like each other. So? Does that make it right? How can you just ignore how wrong this is?”

His expression hardens, anger flashing in his eyes. “Forget your idea of what's good and bad. You're just upset you can't control what you feel.”

“He’s closer than ever.”

Logan gawks at you, his voice bitter as he goes on with his rambling. “That fucker again? Don’t you ever get tired of talking about someone who you don’t even know? Because you’re certainly wearing me out.”

“You wish you were him, don’t you?” You jab your finger into his chest, feeling his heartbeat, a flutter you choose to ignore. “You want to be my soulmate.”

“Damn right I do,” he practically spits his words, narrowing his eyes at you. “But I’m not him.”

“No. You’re not.”

Everything seems to fall out of place. Outside your window, birds don’t chirp—they scream for mercy. The world doesn’t feel lighter, but heavier. The beast inside you roars back to life, restless and louder than ever, while your mind spins in chaos.

“We shouldn’t see each other anymore.” Your voice pierces through the thick silence in the room, and you swallow down the lump forming in your throat.

“If that’s what you want,” he replies, his jaw clenched tight, irritation radiating off him in waves.

“It’s what we both need.”

“Speak for yourself. I don’t have a soulmate.” His tone is biting, but you don’t miss the undercurrent of longing in his words. “But if in any other universe I do, I hope it’s you.”

Your hand turns the knob, and then he’s halfway out the door, sparing you one last glance before he turns his back to you.

No more visits. No more books. No more bruising kisses that leave you questioning your mere existence.

Let things stay as they are—it’s safer that way. You don’t want to know the reason behind this forceful need.

After all, being his grumpy and ill-tempered self, he’ll stay holed up in Wade’s apartment, avoiding any interaction with the real world. And you? You’ll forget about him. Easy-peasy.

It didn’t go well in the end.

You remember your first heartbreak—seventeen, fresh out of high school. One of your hands clutched a million dreams, and the other, a pillow soaked with your tears.

Your mother remained by your side, caressing your back, attempting to soothe the sobs that racked your body. She murmured that it’d pass, that you wouldn’t feel like this forever. You believed her then, and trusted that things would eventually be okay.

Almost ten years later, another heartbreak shouldn’t come as a surprise. By now, you thought you would’ve developed the tools to survive it. You should be able to piece yourself back together by instinct.

But life, as it turns out, has a peculiar way of catching you off guard.

Whether it’s pent-up horniness, touch-starvation, or genuine affection—it doesn't change the fact that your pseudo-relationship with Logan fell apart.

Though you’re not the one who’s suffering the most. Neither is Logan.

Wade, the third party in this tangled mess, has somehow taken it the hardest.

“I feel like a child of divorce,” he says, his head resting on your lap, eyes distant as they fixate on the peeling wallpaper. “You need to do something about that.”

“I’ll take care of it next month.”

He’s supposed to be the one supporting you, but it feels like the roles are reversed—you’re comforting him, letting him vent.

“My two favorite people now can’t even be in the same room. What are we gonna do for Christmas? New Year's Eve?” Straightening up, he grabs the nearest cushion and buries his face into it to muffle a defeated scream. “Damn it, Cupid! You had one job!”

All in all, Wade’s emotionally unavailable at the moment, grieving your separation from Logan as if it were his own loss, too caught up in his melodrama to be of any real help.

Meanwhile, you fill your days with work, books, anything to keep your mind occupied.

You go to bed too late, you wake up too early. Sleep too little, cry too much.

One thing stays constant—you and Logan don’t talk. Stolen glances in the hallway, awkward elevator rides—those are the only remnants of whatever you once were. Back to being strangers again. 

Well, not really. Strangers don’t know the route to your mouth the way he does.

The ache lingers every day. Missing him when you’re awake is a common occurrence. At night, as you toss and turn beneath the sheets, he stars in your dreams. You can’t recall the last time he wasn’t lodged in your thoughts. 

Where there used to be ideas, creativity, and plots worth scribbling down, there’s now only Logan—a man destined to problematize your stay on earth.

That fucker again? Don’t you ever get tired of talking about someone who you don’t even know? Because you’re certainly wearing me out.

And yet, despite all of it, you continue to prioritize someone else. Someone who isn’t even here. Clung to the idea of a soulmate, you chose him over Logan.

What did he expect? For you to abandon your principles, your belief in destiny? It’s who you are. Nearly thirty years of life guided by one belief can’t just be discarded like trash.

You liked to separate things into categories: good and bad, right and wrong. A simple method to structure everything, to make sense of your world, and it has worked most of the time.

But now? The limits of those sacred categories look blurred. Your judgment feels unreliable, and you wonder if the choices you’ve made lately have been the correct ones.

Each of your decisions seems to be leading you further down a path you can’t recognize. 

What’s the goal? Finding your soulmate, the voice in your head mockingly answers for the hundredth time, rolling its imaginary eyes. And where is he?

You’ve shut Logan out, a man who’s made it clear he has feelings for you, for this elusive person. Isn’t it time he steps into the light at long last?

This is what you fear the most: loneliness.

You don’t want to be the lone woman who sits by herself in a cafe, drawing pity from waitresses who discuss her solitude. By no means do you wish to be that friend who dispenses wise dating advice, but goes home to an empty bed. You refuse to become the godmother whose hand no one holds when her time comes.

No, this can’t be all fate has to offer to you. There must be more. If your life were a book, you’d be flipping through the pages to the last chapter, desperate to see how it ends.

Or, better yet, you’d grab a pen and rewrite it yourself. What kind of ending you’ll have—you’re not so sure about that.

It’s Sunday, one of those endless weekends where the only way to survive is by rearranging your entire apartment. You could manage it alone, but help would be nice—Wade’s help, to be more precise, would be perfect for this kind of task, and you find yourself knocking on his door. 

No answer. Deciding to dial his number to see if he’s fallen asleep, you try calling him, waiting through the rings until he finally picks up. “Hey.”

Except it’s not Wade’s voice that answers. “I’m sorry, who is this?”

The door swings open, and Logan appears right behind it, holding Wade’s phone to his ear.

He narrows his eyes, leaning against the frame, a single eyebrow lifted in curiosity. “How sad. You don’t remember what I sound like.”

You feel foolish for still being on the call, so you lock your phone, ending it. “Where’s Wade?” you ask, frowning as you hold your breath, your voice sharper than intended.

“Out and about. Didn’t tell me where he was going,” Logan replies, glaring at you as he raises the phone to your face. “He left without this.”

Abort mission! Nodding in agreement, you begin to step back. “Great, I’ll look for him later.”

You’re close to being locked up once again in the safety of your apartment when you hear him: “You need anything?”

It’s the most he’s said to you in weeks. You hesitate, keeping your back turned. “I’m moving some heavy stuff around. Thought I could use the help.”

“I could do it.”

No. Not really. He’s doing that thing again—offering help when you know you shouldn’t accept it. You shake your head.

“It’s not necessary,” you say, forcing a casual tone.

“Doesn’t have to mean anything,” he retorts, his footsteps heavy and deliberate as they draw closer. With each passing second, your options shrink, leaving you no room for retreat. “Don’t worry. I won’t try to kiss you again if that’s what’s got you all worked up.”

“I’m not worked up,” you hiss, and he sidesteps you easily, his arm nudging yours.

The electricity is still there, undeniable, but neither of you has the courage to acknowledge it, acting as though it’s an ordinary occurrence.

His eyes roam the room, like he’s forgotten what your apartment looked like. He pauses by the bookshelf, his fingers gliding over the spine of Jane Eyre, and a low whistle escapes him as he slips it back into place. 

You, frozen at the threshold, feel your irritation simmering just beneath the surface, and the urge to hide in your bedroom only becomes stronger.

After this, you’ll have to burn your favorite book. What a pity.

“What do you want me to do?” he asks, hooking his fingers into the loops of his jeans, his posture both confident and annoyingly relaxed.

There’s a challenge in his tone, and he acts as if you’re the one who pulled him into this situation—like he didn’t worm his way in here.

You gesture toward the couch. “Can you put it by the window?”

He sets to work, moving the smaller pieces of furniture aside to make space for the couch. Under no circumstances are you going to just stand there and watch him sweat.

Instead, you busy yourself with the long-forgotten glasses and cups gathering dust in one of the kitchen cabinets, each one glinting with past disappointments.

Wetting a towel, you start by wiping the rims. The air feels heavily charged with uneasiness, but you're relieved that for once, you can breathe without feeling like you’re on the brink of a heart attack.

You can already imagine Wade’s face when you tell him—

“So,” Logan’s voice cuts through the silence, startling you, “how’s the search going? Got any luck?”

His words have the desired effect on you, and the glass slips from your grasp, shattering against the floor in a crash that mirrors the jump of your heart. You curse under your breath, stepping back from the mess, taking in the shards sprawled around your shoes.

“Be careful,” he says from the other side of the room, still dragging the furniture into place, and you scrutinize him over your shoulder, your brows knitted.

“I don’t need your advice,” you murmur through gritted teeth as you crouch to pick up the larger shards. His attention returns to the couch, but you guess he’s not technically thinking how nice of a person you are.

As you kneel, your hands tremble slightly, and you wonder when that started. You fumble for a larger shard of glass, bracing your hand against the floor for balance, unaware of the smaller piece lying dangerously close to your fingers.

The sting comes fast, slicing through the skin of your pinky. You flinch, raising your hand, and Logan, hearing the faint wince, abandons his task and crosses the room to you.

"I don’t need your advice," he echoes, mocking your tone as he squats beside you, his hand closing around yours to inspect the wound. "You’re bleeding."

“Brilliant observation, Sherlock. I hadn’t noticed—” The words die in your throat, your eyes widening as you take a closer look at his hand. “Wait, why are you bleeding?”

He snorts, diverting his attention to his own hand. “What do you mean I’m—” Whatever it is he intended to shoot back remains unsaid as both of you stare down at the small cut in his pinky.

Driven by instinct, you place your hands side by side, your finger grazing his. The cuts are identical: same place, same width, same depth. The only difference is his vanishes within seconds, leaving only a few droplets of crimson blood as evidence.

Logan couldn’t have cut himself. He was nowhere near the glass. “Are you…?” You swallow thickly, trying to string together a coherent thought, dizziness making its triumphant appearance. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yes.”

“And what is that—”

“I need a drink.”

“Can you stop acting like a dick for one second?” You peer into his glossy eyes, watching him try to avoid your gaze, though he can’t seem to resist. “Please, Logan. Look at me.”

When he does, his mouth parts as if to speak, then closes again. “I don’t understand. I thought I didn’t have a soulmate.” His gruff tone slows even further, like he's straining to push the words from his lungs. “I thought—I thought I was alone.”

It explains so much: how your scars had reappeared once he and Wade returned from The Void. 

The instant attraction, the yearning to be near him.

The dread that washed over you each time he walked away.

The dreams that plagued your nights, and the tightness in your chest these past few weeks that made you wonder if you could ever coexist in the same space as him without breaking apart.

All those times you felt he was getting closer weren’t just a figment of your imagination—he was, in fact, right there.

But he wasn’t just anyone—it was him. Logan is your soulmate. You two are meant to be together. How long would it take for you to truly believe it? Until it no longer sounded like something too good to be true?

Without uttering a sound, Logan gazes at you, silently pleading to see them. To see your scars. You extend your arm, and with a gentle motion, he rolls up the sleeve of your shirt, revealing the marks etched into your skin.

He runs his fingers along the lines, trying to understand the bond you now share—both his and yours.

In a sense, you’re his. You carry his scars, the physical manifestation of the life he has lived. Even though he may not bear any of his own, you do, and that’s more than enough.

He belongs to you just as much as you belong to him.

“There are more,” you tell him. your voice barely above a whisper. He stands, offering you his hand, and you take it, rising to your feet. Logan inches closer, his mouth hovering just above yours, his large hand coming up to cup your cheek.

The look he gives you is one reserved for those he loves, a look filled with such warmth and affection that it almost feels dreamlike.

“Do you want me to see them?” he inquires, and all he needs is a nod from you to gently tug your shirt up your chest and over your head.

He lets out a dry chuckle when you attempt to tame your hair, the effort proving to be in vain. The clock on the wall seems to pause its ticking the moment his fingers begin to trail each of the scars that captures his gaze.

You can’t even begin to fathom what thoughts might be swirling in his mind, but if the flicker of lust and desire you catch in his expression is anything to go by, you’re not so worried.

Logan’s touch carries an unexpected softness, a tenderness you never imagined a man like him could possess.

Deep down, you wish he understood that these scars don’t hurt, that they never have. “I’m okay,” you reassure him, prompting him to explore more of your skin, to claim you as his.

“Do you… like them?” he asks without meeting your eyes.

Do you like my scars? is the real question hidden underneath.

Do you like me? is the one he can’t bring himself to pronounce.

“They’re yours. I could never not like them.” 

Before you stands a man you once believed was meant to be your burden, your trial. Logan had been the earthquake sent to test your endurance, to see how much you could withstand before surrendering and waving the white flag.

The same fingers that once imprinted his mark on you now linger on the strap of your bra, waiting for you to decide whether to let him go further or stop.

Desire has a limit before it overwhelms. There’s only so much need a person can contain before it spills over, uncontrollable and raw.

This game, one you never learned how to play, feels as foreign to him as it does to you—neither of you knows the rules.

“Can I see more?” He’s still talking about the scars, still fumbling with the strap, and you nod, your eyelids growing droopier as you take his free hand and direct it to the front of your jeans.

He catches the hint, undoing the button with ease, allowing you to shed the last layers of restraint.

Bare, moments away from being completely naked, standing in stark contrast to Logan, who remains fully clothed, your stomach does a flip as he rubs his thumb along the sides of your underwear.

Leaning your forehead against his shoulder, you stifle a sigh when he splays his hand across your lower back, pulling you closer.

His rough grip tightens on your ass, testing the feel of you, while your breathing becomes shallow, erratic.

“What is it, honey?” He slides his fingers your stomach, just below your belly button, brushing a small scar in there. “Want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” you croak, the plea slipping out involuntarily, throwing your arms around his neck. He buries his face against your jaw, his lips parting against your skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck.

You tilt your head back, exposing more of your throat to him, breathless as you whisper: “I’ve waited so long.”

He moves toward the couch, and you follow, trying to anticipate what he’s got planned for you. “I know, baby. I know. You’ve waited long enough.” Guiding your body down, he has you lying horizontally on the sofa. He unhooks your bra, kneading your breasts with both hands, eliciting a ragged gasp from you. “But I’m here now. You don’t have to wait any longer,” he huffs by your ear, rolling your nipples between his fingers, his breath mingling with yours, each exhale warm and inviting. “Gonna let me make you feel good? Show you how much I’ve been thinkin’ about you?”

Instead of answering with real words, you surge forward, crashing your lips against with his, reveling in the way he cages you with his biceps, locking you up in a prison of desire from which you never wish to break free. He tries not to settle his full weight on top of you, attentive not to crush you.

As he nips at the column of your throat, you squirm beneath him, canting your hips up to seek the friction you crave.

He presses his knee against your center and you push back, grinding against him with an animalistic urgency.

You can’t recall ever feeling this desperate, this overwhelmed by a man. But then again, he’s unlike any other you’ve encountered in your array of momentary hookups.

His kisses grow even more insistent as breathy moans roll off to your tongue, merging with the occasional creak of the couch beneath your movements.

Logan spreads your thighs wider, sinking to his knees on the floor to tug your lower half forward until your ass is almost hanging in the air. He places your thighs on his shoulders, supporting you as he leans in to pepper your soft flesh with kisses.

One can be certain that he’s marking your inner thighs with a hickey or two, the scratch of his beard feeling magnificent against your sensitive skin, and you can hardly bring yourself to think about the potential burn he’ll leave behind. Logan inhales your scent, the tip of his nose dangerously close to your cunt, and you tangle a hand in his hair as he continues to test your patience.

“Eager?” he wonders aloud, looking at you through his lashes. While maintaining eye contact, he presses a kiss to your clit through the fabric of your panties.

He does it again, and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, his fingers deftly pulling your underwear down your legs.

The first drag of his tongue along your folds has you scrunching your eyebrows in pleasure, tightening your grip on his hair. Logan moans against you, the sound muffled as he dips the tip of his tongue into your entrance, lapping at your arousal with an insatiable hunger.

The way you purr his name—a soft caress, a pat on his back that says Yeah, you’re doing fine—only spurs him on, infusing every one of his ministrations with fervor.

His longing for you radiates in the intensity of his touch, sending shivers through you, making you writhe because of his hands alone.

Your core throbs. Your skin prickles with electricity. Your legs quake on either side of his face. He’s hungry and you’re his feast. He’s parched and you’re the last bottle of water in an arid world.

Logan eats you out like this will be the only time he’ll have the privilege—each movement calculated, pushing all the right buttons, pulling out every trick he knows to make you think No, it doesn’t get any better than this. This is as much as one can get.

Then his fingers join the symphony of pleasure, pumping in and out of you as he keeps flicking your clit with expert precision, and your back arches from the couch, following his pace with your hips. He pushes back, you push forward—he pushes forward, you push back.

Who is enjoying this more: him or you?

His pointed tongue teases your bud, matched with the persistent hammering of his fingers plunged into your wet heat. The combination has you coming on his mouth, falling over the precipice while you struggle to keep yourself together.

Your walls flutter around his digits, and your cries fuse with his groans, both overshadowed by his insatiable desire to savor until the last drop of your release.

Shockwaves ripple through your body and you prop your weight on your arms to capture his lips in a fervent kiss, your eyes rolling rolling back in ecstasy as you taste yourself, a mix of sour and sweet.

In a frenzy, he sheds his clothes, practically tearing them away, and you wrap your hand around his length, stroking him in time with your kisses. Logan pulls back, panting against you, and you steal a glance at him.

Your gaze travels down to his hard cock, the tip a furious red, and he seizes your wrist.

“Why don’t you kiss it better?” he rasps, his voice dropping an octave. In this moment, you’re taken aback by his beauty, and the urge to express it rises within you.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur against his thigh, showering his skin with heated kisses. You stare in disbelief at the trail of hair leading to his girth, mouth watering at the sight.

A kiss on the tip, followed by a broad lick along a prominent vein—Logan’s grip on the armrest tightens, his knuckles turning white. “So perfect.”

“Shut up,” he retorts breathlessly, but you revel in the strangled noise that escapes him as you take him deeper, his head disappearing between your lips. His palm rests on your nape, anchoring you in place. “Goddammit. The fuckin’—mouth you have on you.”

You try to take him in further once you’re feeling more confident, while Logan fights with all his might against the need to thrust his hips up into your warmth. He can’t stay still, grunting and smothering you with lavish praise that heightens your arousal, slick pouring out of you in waves.

“Pretty thing you are. Don’t even know how to function around you. You got me all—fuck, actin’ all stupid.”

At one point, he tells you to stop, because he doesn’t want to come just yet. You know what comes next as he rubs his cock along your folds, blending your wetness with his precum.

It’s sloppy, and dirty, and messy—and God, do you love it.

He sinks into you and the world collides in a way you never expected. Everything you thought you knew falls apart, leaving you stranded in unfamiliar territory.

You can’t comprehend how you’ve spent so many years without him. Without this.

Your lips find his, and he swallows every sound he punches out of your lungs. His thrusts grow harder and faster as you adjust to his size, how big he feels inside you.

He digs his fingers into the globes of your ass, yanking you towards his shaft every time he fucks into you. You feel the brush of his balls against your skin, the way his muscles flex beneath your touch.

To this day, it’s still hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that love is what humans both strive and die for.

You come to understand it fully as his eyes flicker to yours, checking for any signs of discomfort in your features.

You understand why people write books and songs about love when he breathes your name in the shell of your ear, chanting how good you’re taking him, how tight and wet you are for him.

You understand the place love occupies in your life as the sound of your bodies slapping together creates a melody which has never been played before.

You understand why you’ve searched for this your entire life, lifting every carpet in hopes of uncovering the love you’ve pined for.

In the past, it had always felt like a race—finding your soulmate before the clock struck twelve. Now that you have him, you wonder what the future holds for you, how this connection will evolve.

For now, you can allow yourself the possibility of relishing the drag of his cock in your interior. His pace doesn’t falter for a second—something about mutants and their non-stop stamina, no doubt. He shoves a hand between your sweaty bodies, rubbing circles on your already swollen bud.

Each time he fills you to the brim, you have to ground yourself, resisting the pull of an altered reality.

“So full,” you blurt out, mewling with a specially hard thrust, a chocked sob lodged in your throat. “Please, stay.”

It could mean many things: Please, keep fucking me. Please, don’t leave after this. Please, remain by my side form this moment onward, because I don’t know how to go on with my life now that I’ve experienced this closeness.

Whatever meaning he ascribes to your words is of little importance. He tightens his arms around you, kissing you deeply, tongue and teeth clashing as they compete to see who wins the battle. “Never. I’m never lettin’ you go, y’hear me?”

Heat pools in your lower back, a coiling tension radiating through your limbs. “You’re mine, princess. Can’t afford to lose you now that I found you. Gonna remind you every day.”

His rambling pushes you over the edge, your dripping cunt spasming around him as you reach your climax, moaning his name against his shoulder. You cling to him, convulsing beneath his body, and he grinds his hips into yours, his chest rumbling as he growls.

“Inside,” you mumble, extending your hand to press it to his waist. “Need you inside me. Please, I want it so bad.”

Logan stutters against you, his forehead falling against your collarbone as he finishes with one powerful thrust, his cock pulsing warm ropes of come within your cunt. You clench around him, whining as he prolongs both your pleasure and his, milking the last drop of his seed. His voice is a constant murmur, filling every space in the room until he slumps against you.

Night has fallen. The cut on your pinky no longer stings. Your scars, after all, are still there, nestled against Logan’s unmarked skin. You caress his back, sighing contentedly as a wave of peace washes over you.

You’ve never felt this relaxed.

Logan grasps your chin and tilts it up, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips. “Hey,” he mutters, his gaze roaming all over your face.

You cup his cheek, his rough stubble grazing your palm. “Hey, stranger. Long time no see.”

A genuine laugh pierces through the silence. the kind he rarely allows himself. Crinkles form at the corners of his eyes, his brow furrowing as he glances at you with love.

Love—hadn’t you pondered its existence for so long? Your fuel for living, the muse behind your best poems, a recurring motif in your fantasies.

Love now has Logan’s name written in ink, no longer a blank canvas awaiting its unknown owner. No—it’s all his now.

You’d do it all over again if it meant ending up like this, tangled and intertwined, with the promise of a future together. He has many stories to share—about his past universe, about himself. You have secrets to unveil, too. There’s so much you both have yet to discover about each other.

But time isn’t up. This isn’t a race, you remind yourself: things are just getting started.

Everywhere you go, every place you attempt to set foot in, there it is. Love is dressed up in an expensive silk robe, a ribbon tied neatly on top of it. You reach closer, trying to unravel it, though it's pointless. The moment love sees you—truly sees your longing for it—it flees, and you struggle to keep up. Love runs faster than anyone, hiding within the bushes, counting the seconds until its next appearance.

Finally, you’ve wrapped love around your finger.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[yuri-is-online]

I feel like Octavinelle would all respond pretty well to you being lonely tbh

Azul: Bullied, lonely child? Only two friends made because he was "fun" enough and felt at risk of losing them? If you talk about being lonely he MIGHT bring up a contract, but I could also see your honesty being met by the most clumsy olive branch of him stammering that HE could be your friend... since hes so generous, of course (liar he wants a friend too)

Floyd: What?! That's no fun! Being lonely almost as bad as being bored! He kind of thrives on attention/entertainment so I feel like his solution is just to drag you wherever he goes. YOU have to be the one to say that no, you have to go to your own class not his.

Jade: While I do think he would be most manipulative if you told him you're lonely, I think it would be tame - akin to "hey eat this weird mushroom" or dragging you on a hike you are NOT experienced enough for as his "requirements" for companionship. He wouldn't stop hanging out if you refused, he really just likes seeing your reactions. I also don't think he'd ever kick you out of a room he's in, and he'd do his own thing while you do yours

I'm so glad you sent this because I was just thinking while I was settling to sleep that I had a lot more to say but was worried a separate post might be too much.

All Three

If there is one thing Twisted Wonderland does really well it's acknowledging the inhuman aspects of its characters. Malleus has so much magic he fails to solve problems without it, Ruggie has really sensitive hearing, Leona talks about smell a lot etc.

Point being the trio has a bunch of things they find weird about life on land. They're not really going to make fun of Yuu for feeling out of place. Assuming they don't trip and fall a whole bunch, that's just too easy.

They're technically new up here too yeah? Let them show you the ropes.

Azul

He's surprisingly soft with Yuu during events. Especially if you pick dialogue options that show intelligence or planning.

^ this happens if you get why he's selling salad cups I think?

^ and this one is if you assume you'll be using the bell of salvation to destroy the flowers

My one amendment to your idea is that I don't think he'd be shy about it at all. He'd be putting forward a show of confidence because of how he was slighted in the past. He would think your friendship was the most natural conclusion in the whole world.

Your smart. He's smarter. Together you could make some real magic! And maybe play some board games. He could use some time to relax.

Floyd

Completely right. I already talked a lot about him in my original answer, but I do think he enjoys hanging out with Yuu when he's in the mood to be social.

He's got all of that extrovert energy Idia's so afraid of, and if you start indulging him, you won't get to stop. I think he'd be really happy to have someone go along with what it is he wants to do no matter how outlandish it gets. Even better if you look like you're having fun!

I could see him say that you "owe him" for hanging out with you when he wants some of your food though.

Jade

Oh? You're lonely? What a shame. How horrible. Terrible really.

That must mean you'll have no problem signing up for his club right? Because that's very much what I could see him doing. He really wants another member to order arou- I mean enjoy the mountains with.

^ If you tell Epel you will be "Here for whatever [the team] needs." When he asks you to help run the Pit Stop, Jade immediately decides this means you will commit a crime for him. Which to be fair-

I would object to the bit about taking you on a hike you're unqualified for though. He tells you not to try climbing Mount Moln until you've done an easier one first.

Obviously I agree about the sketchy mushrooms. If he's brave enough to walk into the Culinary Crucible with them, what's Ramshackle?

Him coming to the Ramshackle guest room to sit quietly while you both do your own thing is something he'd really enjoy. You make much more interesting faces when he gives you a break from his teasing.

[sewinrat]

You as Amanda the Adventurer includes(child reader);

You were just walking around for a new adventure with your pet friend sheep, Wooly! Who was hesitant especially when he feel the bad vibes around the place. After walking for quite some time, you saw a diner called, 'Smile Diner'. You dragged Wooly into the diner with a bright smile.

You enter the place and look around happily. There was not a lot of people. Actually, there's only five people sitting together. You dragged Wooly to a random table. Checking the menu only to find weird things on it but that's okay! You're used to it! "Wooly, what do you want to get?" You ask the sheep across you. Unfortunately however, Wooly had a bit of trouble choosing as he felt weirded out seeing the names. You're starting to lose your temper and keep asking him what he wants aggressively. Until eventually you couldn't wait any longer and yell at him, glitching in and out before suddenly sitting there with a smile again as you calmly ask Wooly what he wants, which caught the attention of the other five people.

Luther in a confused tone wonders why is there a child and a sheep without any adult supervision. Nyen was annoyed but couldn't do anything about it without his master's order yet. Nyon and Sebastian basically try to mind their own business while Randal laughs at the poor sheep who was trembling.

For some reason, one thing lead to another and now you're living with the ivory's. You look oblivious to your surroundings while Wooly is scared for his life, especially around the cat with the Nevada shirt.

You are quite the obedient child with a horrible temper and a gruesome sense of view, humour and mind. You fit well together with Randal as friends. Actually, you and Wooly are exactly like Randal and Sebastian. The only differences are that Wooly let it all happened as long as everything is in control while Sebastian is going to escape any chance he can and you have the worst temper or patience while Randal has no temper. Often times, Randal makes you lose it and it results in you attacking him. But it's all fine in the end. Luckily no one was hurt besides Randal.

Going into a different topic, cats. You look at the two adults being cats and ask them if they talk. Nyen grunts and Nyon stays quiet as always. You however don't mind and instead said, "Animals don't talk like that, silly! They make funny sounds like this; Meooww." You unknowingly mocked at them. Wooly just lowers his head down, remembering the time you did that to him and it doesn't end that well.

There was once where you said something about 'a lonely kitten is out there somewhere. Won't you help the lonely kitten?' This perks up Luther but he doesn't understand what you're trying to say. He wants the find this 'lonely kitten' though. Not knowing what it meant.

You laugh at anything dark honestly and try to make games out of anything. You drag Randal mostly to go on adventures while Wooly and Sebastian awkwardly watch you two in a safe distance. You spoke to the unhinged boy like he was an audience. 'Silly mister fox!' 'Kuku~ he is silly!' Refering to a fox with lost half of it's head. 'The opposite of alive iss..' 'DEAD!~' Randal continued and laugh maniacally as you both stand in front of a grave. 'Let's make an apple pie!' Wooly were holding peaches but it suddenly glitches into apples to which Randal clapped at and leaving Sebastian concerned.

Ranfren Characters thoughts on You(ooc);

Randal: "I like them! They're so fun to play with ~ kuku it's always fun to have a friend like them to play correctly! Ahh but they have such a bad temperr... I guess that's partly my fault heheh~ I wonder what they mean by rotting somewhere far but I feel myself rotting away too!~" Best Friends FOREVER.

Luther: "They are too similar like Randal but oh well. At least they are more well behaved. Randal mentioned that they are rotting like him but I don't pay any mind. A nice addition to the family they are♡ Their pet sheep is nice as well, they're like Sebastian but obedient. I want to find this lonely kitten they mentioned so I can help it♡ However I do think we need to keep that temper under control." He's clueless of your cryptic messages and hints but he'll soon figure out. Very soon.

Nyen: "Annoying brat. Always saying that cats go meow. I hope the lonely kitten they had mentioned dies." Doesn't like you. Best to avoid when Luther is not around. He won't kill you however.

Nyon: Nyon doesn't even came close to you. He only came close to Wooly but that happens once in a blue moon. Avoids you more when he saw how aggressive and dark-minded you can get.

Sebastian: "Ugh... Just another addition to the freaks of a family. Somehow I think they're worse than Randal... Everytime they speak, freaks me out because they always say something weird. I wonder how that sheep handle it.." He's... Just don't bother him that much. He already has Randal on his back. However he is glad that you managed to keep Randal away from him longer.

Bonus! Wooly: "I really don't know how we got into this situation but we can't escape now.." Nothing much to say. Wooly has been with you for so long he knows. He doesn't encourage you but he also doesn't do much unless you're close to being in danger or starting the danger.

[morelikeravenbore]

What was Auras reaction to Seb calling her ignorant?

🦋 'Aurélie woke bright and early the following morning with a steely resolve to never utter the name Sebastian Sallow again unless it was to curse it to the wind.' — How to Make a Villain, chapter thirteen.

AAAHHH this question is so fun, thank you for asking it! I've been thinking about my answer all day, so in my usual fashion I'm absolutely going to over-explain it because ✨Ravenclaw.✨

So lemme preface this by saying canon Aurélie was never part of the game events. She started Hogwarts in seventh year and thus had to deal with the consequences of Sebastian's quest line as they slowly but inevitably fell in love. In saying that, I have been dabbling on and off with a fifth year AU in which Sebaura reunite post-graduation after seven years apart, so I've given the IgNoRaNt thing a lot of thought.

To set the scene, here's a snippet of their dynamic in fifth year. (If you think their bickering is bad in Villain universe, they're insufferable in fifth year lolol).

[Sebastian's POV]

'Aura! For once in your life, stop being so dramatic!'

A month. A whole bloody month of chasing after, arguing with, and generally lamenting the existence of the most annoying girl to ever walk the face of the earth; one long, agonising month since she'd shown up at Hogwarts as the new fifth year, the new mystery, and completely derailed life as he'd known it. Not that his life had exactly been on track before her arrival, but if he was the out-of-control locomotive, then she was the broken track that had sent the whole bloody lot careening off the rails and into a ravine, explosions and all.

Needless to say, fifth year MC Aura [hates going on quests.] It's not that she doesn't want to help, it's just that li'l fifteen year old fancy-pants Frenchie hates trudging through the cold muddy Highlands, hates getting her nice shoes all dirty, and especially hates using her magic to blast Beasts into the ether (even if they are big scary spiders or killer Mongrels.) So when she relents to following Sebastian through some icky cave or up a freezing cold mountain in search of some weird relic or whatever, she lets him know in no uncertain terms that she is NOT happy about it. She'd probably even ignore him for weeks afterwards and he'd have to do some serious grovelling (ie bribery with new shoes) just to get her to look at him again.

But still, she does it for him because they're both orphans, they're both lonely, and they're both really leaning on eachother for support. Yes, she hates their "adventures", yes, she complains about it the entire time, but she does it for him. Every single time.

So when Sebastian calls her ignorant — when he crosses the line from light-hearted bickering to actually insulting her? She considers it a huge rejection. She followed him into danger time and time again, overlooked his red flags, even forgave him for the whole crucio thing only for him to personally insult her? Nah bro. Aura's certainly not afraid of letting him know when he's acting out of line, but up until that point, their disagreements had never gotten personal.

This is when everything starts to go south for their friendship, culminating with the Solomon incident and leading to their eventual seven-year split after graduation. When she's really hurt, Aurélie withdraws into herself so deeply that it's very hard to coax her out again. — And that's exactly what happens when he dun fucks up and calls her a nasty name.

NOT TO MENTION calling a Ravenclaw ignorant is like a mortal sin. Like, calling an average every day person ignorant is pretty mean, but a Ravenclaw?! Boy, pls. Sit down.

🦋 Thank you again anon for the cute question, I had so much fun answering it! Here are some more piccies of my girl for you. Have a perfectly scrumptious day!

(the dress was a gift from my love @sleepywitchlory, made by @ominouscorridors)

[hlvrfreakyfriday]

(( so i've decided to repost the Freaky Friday fic here on the blog, to have one other place to read it besides just ao3. here we go! ))

HLVRFF: Chapter 1

It all happened so fast, Benry didn't even detect what was going on until after the fact. And by then, it was too late for him to do anything about it.

Being an eldritch horror from the cosmic void, Benrey had a lot of real fun abilities at his disposal. One of those being the ability to 'astral project' as he'd heard humans call it. He never really used this one too much, though. Until he moved in with Gordon, that is. He'd found that slipping out of his own body to go hang out in Gordon's dreams was a pretty sick way to pass the time at night, when nothing else was keeping his attention successfully. Or when he was feeling lonely. Being the only one in your friend group who doesn't need to sleep at night kind of sucks sometimes.

Gordon was… a little unnerved by the brain-intrusions at first. But he never told Benry to fuck off with that shit, as the night time chats with the entity were much, MUCH preferred over all his PTSD night terrors. Dreams never kicked in right whenever Benry was there, including the bad ones, so it was a win-win situation, really. However, if a dream was already in the middle of happening when Benry jumped in, the dream didn't just automatically stop.

He never thought much about it until tonight.

Benry wasn't really feeling in the mood for any video games, so he decided he'd go see what ol' Feetman was up to in dream land. He got himself laid out nice and comfy in his bed, slipped out of his body and into Gordon's.

And soon came to very much regret it.

Gordon was having a nightmare about Xen, looked like. From his vantage point, he could see the man fleeing for his life from something. He didn't see what, but whatever it was, it had the poor guy scared absolutely shitless. Benry could feel all the horrible emotions Gordon was having while sharing a headspace with him, and yeah, no, this was not cool. He needed to calm Gordon down, show him he was just dreaming. If he could get him in a more lucid state, the nightmare would be easy to knock away.

Dream-Xen wasn't set up the same way as the real deal was- but thankfully Benry was able to just clip through everything just like the real one, which allowed him to cut Gordon off as the human frantically made his way through the winding tunnels.

When Gordon rounded the corner and came face to face with Benry, the human let out a strained shriek, and looked like he was about to book it back towards whatever he was fleeing from before. Whu..? Oh, shit, right. Benry was playing the bad guy when they were all on Xen, so of course Gordon wouldn't be very happy to see him, even if he wasn't at the same giant size he was back then.

…Wait.

Benry was the main threat to Gordon and the Science Team when they were on Xen.

So… did that mean…

As if to answer Benry's unspoken question, a massive, pale hand came phasing through the roof of the cave, one of its sharp black talons nearly impaling Gordon as it did. Gordon fell to the cave floor and looked on in horror as the monstrous owner of the hand brought their face into view.

Gordon wasn't having a nightmare about Xen. He was having a nightmare about Benry.

The alien's heart dropped like a fucking rock at the realization. Dream-Benry raised his fist, looking like he was getting ready to crush Gordon, and that's when real-Benry shoved down the sanguine and shadow building up in his throat and dove towards the human. He grabbed Gordon, and then sunk them both down into the floor, escaping into another chamber. Gordon thrashed in his grip, desperate to get away, but Benry held firm, and flipped the man around to face him.

"dude, dude, you gotta- you gotta calm down. that thing- that's not me, you're dreaming-" Benry tried to explain, but Gordon wasn't fucking listening, he just kept screaming at him to let go and get away and-

They were both silenced when the sole of a giant combat boot came down hard directly on top of them.

------------

Benry's whole form jolts as he returns to a more corporeal state of being. God, fuck. Dying was never fun, even in dreams. He lets out a heavy sigh and blinks- wait. His eyes are open? Why is it so fuckin' dark, then? He looks around the room, and does see… a faint light, shining in the corner of the room. Focusing on that light, his eyes begin to adjust a bit more to the dark. It's then he realizes that everything is blurry? He moves to push himself up into a sitting position- oh holy fuck he feels so tired and heavy and weak. What the shit. He brings a hand up to his head to rub at his eyes… and finds that his cheeks are a lot less bony than he remembers. Benry blindly gropes at his face some more, and feels what is very clearly a scruffy beard that he very much did not have before.

"yo what-" he says aloud, cutting himself off instantly when he hears himself speaking with Gordon's voice.

That's… new.

And would explain why he can't see shit all. Benry carefully feels over for where he knows Gordon's bedside nightstand is, and turns on the lamp once he finds the switch, to back up the little light from what he now realizes is Gordon's night light. Okay okay, no longer dark, but still blurry as hell. Squinting at the nightstand, he makes out the general shape of Gordon's glasses, and gingerly picks them up and places them on his face. Ah, there we go, blessed with sight once again. Albeit still pretty fucking shitty sight. This isn't how Gordon's eyes are ALL the time, is it? No, no, can't be. That'd be messed up. His sight, and all of his other senses come to think, are probably just all discombobulated from being forced into the wrong body. Yeah. Totally. He just needs to give it a minute.

Suddenly, a scream rings out in the house, in a voice that Benry recognizes as his own.

Oh shit, Gordon.

Welp, 'giving it a minute' is now officially off the table.

Benry quickly hops out of bed (ignoring the foreign ache in his-Gordon's? legs) and bolts towards the door. It's here that he makes yet another discovery.

His usual powers didn't carry over with him into Gordon's body, apparently, as when he tries to clip through the door because it's faster than opening it, he just fuckin' slams right into the damn thing. He groans, both in pain (so much pain…) and embarrassment, before opening the door like a normal human person and books it down the hall to his bedroom.

Flinging the door open and flicking on the light switch, he's met with a very concerning sight.

------------

Gordon lurches up into a sitting position, reflexively throwing his arms up, as if to hold off the massive boot that was trying to squash him like a bug. It was just a dream, he thinks as he realizes that he's not dead or on Xen. Doesn't do anything to calm his residual panic, though. His heart is still going a mile a minute and… and that's not right. His heart isn't beating right.

His brain finally catches up with the rest of him, and he realizes that he's in an entirely different room than he was when he went to sleep. It's Benry's room from the looks of it, but… it's not right, either. Why is the lighting so weird. The light's not even on, but he can see, he can see SO clearly and- the colours. They're all so much more vibrant, and there's ones he doesn't even recognize. He can't even think how to DESCRIBE them, what the fuck.

Ignore that for right now, Gordon, you gotta calm down, he thinks to himself. Closing his eyes, he reaches a hand up to run his fingers through his hair. Doing such has often helped him ground himself during anxiety and panic. But instead of feeling his long, soft hair, he feels a knit beanie. He does not wear knit beanies. His roommate wears knit beanies. His roommate whose room he inexplicably woke up in just now.

Gordon's eyes snap open and he looks at his hands.

They are not his hands.

"What the fuck," he utters, barely above a whisper, in what is definitely Benry's voice.

No. No? No. No! This isn't happening. This is NOT fucking HAPPENING. He's still dreaming, CLEARLY he's still dreaming! He just needs to wake up. C'mon, Gordon, you can do it. Wake up. Wake up, Gordon. Wake UP, Gordon. WAKE UP, GORDON-

A scream rips out of his throat, as he feels something else in his borrowed body rip.

[misslavenderlady]

Me when I'm in ur inbox

Im here to ask a question about the boys and our little guy Laddie! Cause I'm in love with the way you protray them 🥺

Whos secretly his favorite boy? Which of them has a secret soft spot for the little guy? Do you have any headcanons for how they found him?

@hypocriticaltypwriter

Always good to get an ask from you, Cherry! Thank you for your kind words 💜

I know it's a bit obvious, but I think out of all the boys, Dwayne is his favorite. Dwayne is the most quiet and intimidating since he puts his guard up around new people or people he doesn't like. But he's also been shown to be the go-to driver for Laddie whenever they're all on their motorcycles. That tells me he's safe and careful enough to make sure a little kid will be okay on the back of a bike. Not to mention Laddie always sticks close to him (or Paul) whenever he's not with Star. I believe Star told him if she's ever not around or busy to go with Dwayne because she knows he'll he safe.

A close second would be Paul. They're always having fun together. Paul helps him safely down the rocks, but turns it into a fun game so he isn't scared. He helps Laddie feel important by asking him to help get his boombox. He's always smiling and laughing with Laddie because he's very fond of him. He's definitely the fun, older brother type.

Michael is the one with the secret soft spot. I've read a few pages of The Lost Boys comic and after Michael, Star and Laddie become human again, Laddie becomes an honorary child to Star and Michael. They play with him, help him out, and overall keep his spirits up until they can find his biological parents. Michael is great with children and takes good care of the little guy. It helps fuel his interest in having kids of his own someday. (also Laddie refers to Lucy as Grandma Lucy, hence why I say he's Michael's honorary kid)

As for how they met, I have my theories based on what I believe and what I've read in the novelization.

Now the boys met Star first. According to her, she was a runaway who was homeless and sleeping on the beach without any shelter. They found her one night in the spring of the same year that the Emersons came to Santa Carla (let's say they found her in late April or early May). She felt safe with them and in good care, but was starting to get cold feet after becoming a half vampire.

I believe the boys in their own twisted way interpreted this as her being lonely. So they decided to find a new buddy for the gang. We see that Laddie is a reported missing child with his picture on a milk carton. It's never made clear how they got him but I believe he got lost in some way, maybe after a fight with his parents and ran off. He was alone and scared and lost but the boys found him and decided to bring him in.

They tell Star he had run away from a bad home like her, but she doesn't fully buy it. But because Laddie is a half vampire like her, she has the urge to look after him. David knew this would happen and purposely orchestrated it this way. He knew if they had Laddie, Star wouldn't leave. The man has serious abandonment issues and loyalty issues and doesn't want Star (or any of them for that matter) to leave, so he's essentially baby-trapped her. But he truly believes in his darkened heart that he's doing the right thing to keep the family together.

In the novel Laddie tells Star that he has dreams of a house and two parents and a dog he played with. Star tells him those are memories, not dreams. It shows how your memories of human life get a little fuzzy and disappear once you become a vampire. She desperately wants Laddie to hang on to these memories as a way to help restore their humanity.

[snugglebug-92]

The One Where Matt Rescues Her

You hated online school with a passion, but you loved the amount of free time you had. You were able to take all your classes online and the rest of the school year went by fast for you. It was nice being somewhere new for a change. Plus, you got to travel everywhere with Matt, so you go to see many different places. When the school year was over the two of you went back to Massachusetts. While Matt trained most of the time and you stuck inside scared. Scared of what would happen if you ventured outdoors. Matt and the rest of your family hated this so for 3 weeks everyone went to Europe. It was a nice distraction for you and a break for everyone else. But before you knew it, summer was over, and it was time to go back to college. But this time it was in person, and you didn’t have Matt to lean on. Thankfully there was someone you knew there from one of Matt’s many hockey teams. Unto your knowledge Matt sent him a text briefly outlining your situation. He also asked him to keep a look out for you. Of course, Brock said yes. Not only did he have sisters who he would want his teammates to do this for, but he was that type of person.

It didn’t take long for you and Brock to reconnect. You ended up having a class together. While you were on the lookout for any sign of your ex he was trying to get to class on time. He slid into the seat next to you. After class the two of you get coffee and talk for a while catching up and that's when the big question comes your way.

“Hey so I don’t mean to pry but why the switch? You don’t have to answer I’m curious,” Brock questions. He takes note of the way your eyes glance around the room before you inhale.

“Well, it’s sort of a long story but I won’t bore you with the details. Well, I dated a bad guy, and I thought things were going well until they weren’t. I’d be covering bruises all the time. I couldn’t leave without being afraid of mine or another person's life being seriously harmed so I never did. Until one night it was bad. He drugged me and I couldn’t move or do anything by the time he finished. I don’t remember much but after that I left Boston. I don’t ever plan on going back unless I have to,” you look at Brock knowing it was a lot you dumped on him. All he does is open his arms in a hug which you are happy to receive.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to hang out a lot more often. Study sessions turn into meeting the team and dinners at his house. He becomes the brother you were missing with Matt still being gone. You and Brock do almost everything together until Matthew complains he’s lonely. You notice early on when you meet the team that the forward and defenseman have an interesting relationship. Soon your and Brock’s study sessions are getting interrupted. Not long after there’s another person who tags along to dinner. After a while the three of you become a trio. Everything is great. You have weekly movie nights at your apartment where you, and Brock make fun of Knies. This week it's for his failed attempt at flirting with women. You let your guard down and that’s when things take a turn for the worse. 

During winter break you go home. Instead of coming back to Minnesota right away you stay in Massachusetts. Rumors soar around that Matt will be making his debut against the Bruins. But you aren’t the only person who hears those rumors, and your ex is sure to buy a ticket to that hockey game. Christmas comes and goes, and those rumors of a debut get confirmed as true when Matt makes his rookie lap. You all scream and cheer proud to see him in the NHL. The boys end up winning the game with Matt getting the game winning goal. Everything is great until you see him. You are walking to the bathroom when you see Bryan. You knew you should have accepted your moms offer of her coming with you, but you also didn’t want to be afraid. You quickly run into the bathroom hoping he didn’t see you but boy were you wrong. As soon as you walk out you feel a hand grip your wrist. You try to break free, but you aren’t strong enough.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry baby?” he questions.

“Away from you. Now let me go before I get the police involved. I'm not joking,” you seethe looking him in the eye pretending to not be afraid but inside you are shaking. He looks at you and laughs before dragging you with him. You gulp and don’t know what to do when Matt comes out of nowhere and saves you. 

“Hey Bryan get the fuck away from my sister,” Matt says, and Bryan lets go before walking away. You collapse on the floor and Matt runs to you pulling you close to him.

“Matt,” you whisper between the sobs. Matt rubs your back as you cry against him.

“I’m here for you. I have you,” he says, and your cries calm down.

“I’m sorry I ruined your debut,” you look up at your brother and he wraps his arms around you.

“You didn’t ruin anything. Now let's get to our family before they start to worry. We can talk about this later,” Matt responds before the two of you walk back toward your family. Little did the two of you know that wouldn’t be the last either of you would see of Bryan.

[pavlovianfuckery]

thanks for the tag @chanihobbit

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

14

2. What‘s your AO3 word count?

42,813

3. What fandom do you write for?

Mostly The Sandman (Netflix) but I do have one lonely Star Wars thing (sole survivor of series of oneshots that got lost because life) And I've recently gotten into iZombie, so I've done a couple for that as well.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

All of these are smutty Sandman reader inserts, all Dream/reader

lets not pretend we're not all nuts for The Voice-hypno kink

it was meant to be a joke but it spiralled-pegging

how about a fucked up game of hot potato because why not-title should be fairly self-explanatory

i have abandonment issues and anxiety and now so do you- angyst stair fucking

throw me down the stairs but sexually-some cnc-adjacent stuff

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try, but I'm awkward as fuck and I get shy so not 100% on that one

6. What‘s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Toss up between i have abandonment issues and anxiety and now so do you and this is where i'd put my frankenstein joke IF I HAD ONE they both have kind of angsty endings

7. What‘s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mean I write smut so they all have happy endings in them, badum-tish. for a soft and silly ending I think catch me if you can or whatever but for just being straight up funny and making ME happy it's paging dr debeers and his atrocious bedside manner, it's very urgent actually

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nope, I am very small and the haters can't spot me

9. Do you write smut? What kind?

That's all I write and everything tends to involve kinks in some form, I'm very much a write what you want to read kinda gal. Aside from me being a pervert and it just being plain fun to write I just think sex in general is a very Neat Fun Activity. Also it can be an interesting lens to look at a character through since it's a pretty vulnerable thing usually and I really enjoy that aspect as well, getting to dig a bit and figure out whats going on under the hood and all that. Wow ok that sounds pretentious as fuck, moving on

10. Do you write Cross-Overs?

Nope.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not sure why anyone would tbh

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, and not sure I'd like to, I barely interact with anyone as it is and I'm picky as fuck

14. What‘s your all time favorite ship?

I mean I don't really write ships (or do reader inserts count? hm), but for reading I like a bunch of different ones, the first one that come to mind is probably FrostIron (and sometimes JohnLock but shhh)

15. What‘s your WIP you like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I don't have a ton of proper WIPs going anymore, but I do tend to finish the ones I have even if it might take time. Right now all of my Sandman stuff is on the back-burner while I play with this new shiny thing, but my brain being a mercurial beast it might not happen at all, who knows not me

16. What are your writing strengths?

Probably my lack of shame or that I get super focused and can write things decently fast

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Probably the whole one trick pony thing, don't ask me to think of things like plots, I am here for the fictional man fucking and nothing else. Also I struggle to take things seriously for the most part, there will be banter and silliness of some sort more often than not. possibly flowery language?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Never done that, I prefer writing in english even though it's not my first language. I suppose if a character was speaking another language I'd do it but I haven't really given it any thought until now

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Lord of the Rings. I was 12, it was bad lol

20. Favorite fic you‘ve ever written?

Probably lets not pretend we're not all nuts for The Voice, I think it came out pretty well and I had a good time writing it, starting out I was not confident I could manage to write it at all.

this was super fun, tagging @honeybeezgobzzzzz @roguelov and anyone else that wants to play :)

[curs3dn0va]

TW: death, substance use, pick me behaviour, and backstabbing, swearing

After my ex-something left I was in such bad state I actually got internalized in a mental hospital for a while, I can only descrive it as a limbo of trying to face the complete void in my life that he left behind, I've heard some people with addictions say that recovery takes away your "personality" because all that you defined as "yourself" was or was a part of your addiction. That's sort of what I went through when he left, I was't even half a person, everything I liked and anjoyed was highly linked to him, and same with my friends... or the people I was friendly to, they reminded me of the person I was around him, so I stopped talking to them... but I did have someone I knew from before him: lets call her B (it does stand for bitch but I'm getting ahead of myself).

B and I had a long friendship together, we met in elementary school, she was a year younger but it was a Montessory system (look it up) so we were in the same room and often "worked" together. As I had mentioned before I was severly bullied during elementary school, it started as teasing because of my glasses and grew as the years went by, and even though B was my only friend -that I remember at least- I wasn't hers, and in the end we were in different grades. In my las year of elementary school, B transferred to another school, and that's the year that the bullying got truly horrible. But we reconnected... well, I reconnected. You see, I was always the one begging to hang out, and being autistic and very lonely I would call her a lot, I would ring her house like 10 times if necessary, but as soon as a concice "no" was given I would stop, the thing is that B would make excuses and I was a problem solver, so we would be talking fo a while about all the reasons she couldn't hang out, and then I would be sad. She was my only friend, and probably my favorite person (remember, I also have bpd) which is a heavy burden for a child, so I don't really blame her for trying to get rid of me in a very subtle way that I was just not getting.

Enter middleschool and I start making other firends, B and I are still in contact and out parents are friends so my mom recommends my school and she enter on my second year, I immediatetly adopt her into my friend group and things progress nicely, I do worry about her a bit, because with the years I have come to love her like a sister, and I wanted her to make her own friends from her grade so that she wouldn't be lonely when we graduated, and she kind of managed. Middleschool was an okay time for our friendship, at least that I can recall, but I was still the one always reaching out, always the first texts, always the first call.

We kept in touch during highschool, although she was an overachiever and I was in 4 different highschools... well, I kept in touch. And then my ex happened, and 4 years later, I knew there was one person I could call who predated that whole fiasco, B and I had just drifted apart for those years, and I wanted to see how she was. B was happy to hear from me, and our friendship resumed -hell, she even visited me in the looney bin- her life started to get hectic with her uni graduation coming soon, so I did all I could to help (because that all I knew how to do). Those were some fun few months... and then we went to this party, very unremarkable really, we drank a little and made fun of some people, her friends asked her when she was getting a boyfriend and she responded "Who needs a boyfriend whe I have Nova?" and pretended to faint into my arms, it was a joke that we used to make mostly because I was very protective and attentive, and she wasn't interested in anyone, until we were playing ping pong. I went to get us some pie because our ride was about to arrive and we wanted pie, when I came back to our game some dude was playing with her, I approached and he said "oh I just want to teach her" and I shrugged, told B our ride was coming and sat down to eat my pie. We left and everything was fine, she crashed in my couch and that was that.

Next day B told me about the guy, her friends know him from some other friends and -her friends- told her he asked for her number, she seemed excited aod I wanted to know about it, and she explained that he was actually her type while showing me a picture of the party, I was very baffled since when we were making fun on people we had said "who the fuck brings a suit to a party? that's so pretentious" and there he was... the guy in the suit was "her type". I tried my best to be supportive, but I have to admit that having come from a very toxic situation myself I was not the "omg he did the bearest minimum??????? MARRY HIM", even less for B. I would've killed for her. I wanted someone who worshipped the ground she walked on, and he was... a bare minimum kinda guy. B had never been in a relationship before, so everything to her was "so original" and "very thoughtful", and when I didn't share her enthusiasm she would get short with me. One night after watching Midsommar (great movie btw, highly recommend) I drunkely said "I just really wish I could pick up all the shitty ways a man can hurt you out of my brain and put them on yours, just so that you'd know in dvance" we looked at eachother, I don't remember what she said anymore, but I did make it clear that I was sorry for coming across as unsupportive, but I was just trying to look out for her, and she understood.

He ended up being a scumbag, the most shocking part is that no one but me saw it coming, I was there to comfort B every time he would bail on a date, but those were rapidly becoming the only times we would talk. I had made another friend at this time, he was really cool and we hung out often, but B was very consumed in her relationship, and when it ended she was acting like "I really get what you meant now" and "men are really trash", which I didn't care much about, but I had been starting to get myself out there and trying to date, this is when the "jokes" about me being better than a boyfriend whent from "Jokes" to just presenting me to people as her boyfriend (I used to look very femme back then, but no one would laugh anymore). The trouble began when I met this boy, let's call him L (for "leeching piece of shit") and he was a karmic twin flame for me, I confirmed it every way I could, but he really was my twin flame, and so I went feral for L, at least for a month, then I realized my traumas ran far too deep for a relationship so intense so soon, so we just became friends, and it was all platonic from then on with him.

Why is a random idiot I met relevant? well because B made him relelvant. I will admit that I had also just started using weed to cope with my trauma, I moved out of my house with L as roommates, and I don't remember all the things I did, but the things I do remember doing were shitty. And after a while of me running around trying to contact her, B cut me off from her life over a pretty silly argument. But this is not the thing that blew our friendship appart, because I'm sure in her eyes I deserved it. No, what blew it up happened a few months later.

My grandmother was an amazing woman, she took in my grandpa's children (including my mom) and raised them as her own, she moved to a state she knew nothing about just to help my mom take care of me while she focused on her studies, she took care of my older half-sister's (my father's side) children while she was in the hospital in a high risk pregnancy, plus me because my mom was the one looking after my older half-sister in the hospital. My granmother was a saint, if people started praying to her instead of god we would see a resurgeance of miracles. Anyways, she diead in April 26, 2023. It was a hectic day to say the least, my mom and I were a mess, but I had to stay strong because my mom is the type to shut down during emergencies. And at the funeral there were many things happening, it was stressful. And then in walks in, with a group of people, that fucking narcicistic Bitch, comes right to where my mom and I are standing, the group of people hug me and my mom, but she only hugs my mom and then looks down as the group makes awkward conversation.

Who is even that sick? I don't even think I could pull a stunt like that at someone's loved one's funeral, which should tell you a lot because I am a truly sick fuck, but going to my ex-bestie's grandmother's funeral, the grandmother that I know raised them because she also took care of me when we were little, and not eve offer a "I'm very sorry for your loss"? What. The. Fuck. Is. Wrong. With. You? How fucking pathetic do you have to be to go top someone's funeral to attract attention?

This is what B looked like: (fictionalized dialogue)

atendee: "how do you know the deceaced?"

Bitch: "Oh, that my ex-bestfriend's grandmother"

atendee: "oh... have you come to make amends? to show support in such a vulnerable time?"

Bitch: "what? psh no, I just want to cause emotional distress under the guise of coming to offer support to my ex-besties mother, she's also like my own mother and probably loves me more than that loser she has as an offspring, anyways I have to go parade my new hair in front of the casket brb"

And dear reader... you want to know what the worst part is? I lent her some books that I haven't trusted myself to pick up since I'm afraid to gauge her fucking eyes out with a spoon, so I sent her a text and she said "oh yeah, you can pick them up whenever! btw I have a boyfriend now!". I am not kidding you dear reader. This delutional piece of human waste actually gave me an update on her life as if I would... what? be happy for her???? SHE RUINED MY GRANDMOTHER'S FUNERAL AND SHE WANTS ME TO BE HAPPY FOR HER? I hope she get's cheated on, dumped, ran over by a car 3 times and survives but lives with chronic pain, becomes addicted to pain medication, and lives a miserable life away from me. Am I evil for wishing something so horrific to someone? yeah, but not evil enough to go to her grandmother's funeral and not ever make aye contact. Fuck you Bitch. If you read this I hope you contact me so I can insult you to your stupid fucking face.

*I want to set aside a space for the poeple that B tried to make me drop from my life but I kept around because I love them and they are worth every second: my mans S, you're a real one; My buddy L2, I'm sorrry I already used your initial fro someone sucky, but I wanted to thank you since despite not having seen eachother in months you were working at a parmacy my mom went, saw her crying and came by to the funeral even though it was very late and you had just gotten done with work; and last but not least, my amazing Boyfirend, who came running after work and stayed as late as he could. I am so greatful to all of these people for making the funeral bearable. I love all of you.

[willinglyghoulified]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the Last 10 people Who reblogged something from you. Learn about your mutuals and followers. 🎠 But only if you want to, just have fun! 💖💖

Awe thank you!~ I love this sm! Answers are gonna get long-winded though T_T

5 Things That Make Me Happy:

Positive Feedback - has to be on the top of my list because this absolutely does breathe life into me. I started writing in the first place to make people happy. I do it because I love it and I want to share that love with others. I want to be the writer that makes people look forward to getting off work to read that new chapter or the reason they stayed up a little too late because they just had to know what happened next. I want my stories to be someone else's escape. And maybe one day, I'll be on their bookshelves, too. ♥

Genuine Friendships - they're so important to me. I'm someone who has very few friends and even fewer family, so if you're close to me, it means something. I'm all about chosen family, and it often reflects in my writing (one of my fav main characters has a tendency to adopt lonely misfits). With my friends, we're either just acquaintances or you're my goddamn sibling, there's really no in between, which is both a good and a bad quality trait.

Fucking Fallout - because it's the most immersive game I've ever played. I know a lot of the games get some hate throughout the fandom, but I genuinely love every installment that they come up with, because it continues the story. Even with all its flaws, I love all of 1, 2, 3, 4, NV, and 76. I'm more partial to 4 because I relate more to their characters, but NV had the superior storyline. ♥ I literally cannot get this game or these characters out of my head.

BTS - Okay hear me out on this one: I know BTS is a stereotypical K-Pop band, but I seriously love them as people. I don't like K-Pop normally, as a genre. I listened to "emo music" growing up (I was born in 1993 so the 2000s was where my favorite music really lied). I was also a troubled kid and I brought a lot of those insecurities and trauma to my adulthood, and my old bands just wasn't doing it anymore. The memories of teen angst mostly stressed me out. But then I found BTS, and their music and messages helped me SO MUCH as a young adult, well into later adulthood (I'm 29 now). I absolutely love them, and they make me happy with their genuine care and messages. Those 7 boys are some of my biggest inspirations in life, reminding me that I can do anything if I try hard enough. But you will NEVER catch me mixing my love for BTS with the Fallout stuff on this blog. I've noticed that liking K-Pop is a quick way to catch hate, so I keep my obsession with them to myself. I'm okay with that; I've done it for the last six years.

My Husband - as cheesy as it is to say, I have the best husband I could have asked for. STORY TIME: I met him in Kindergarten, and he was always getting me in trouble by making me laugh and the teacher kept telling us to be quiet. She had to separate us. I had a crush on him in 2nd grade. Then we didn't see each other again until middle school. We had gym class together in 6th grade. In 8th grade, we became best friends. He dated a friend of ours in 9th, and I thought that would help me get rid of the feelings I had for him because I was terrified I'd ruin our friendship if I made a move. It didn't work out between him and our friend, but he told me in 10th grade that he liked me a lot, and we really understood each other. (Honestly it "helped" that we both came from troubled/broken families and were both below poverty level.) When we got together, we were each other's first EVERYTHING. We were together all throughout high school with no complications, and our peers deemed us worthy of being prom king and queen in 12th grade even though we were the nerds who oftentimes got bullied. It was so surreal. We moved in together after high school. We went through a loooooot of bullshit. Being kicked out of houses, losing jobs, losing family members (deaths and otherwise) and we're pretty much inseparable now. We've been together for 14 years. He's supportive in everything I do, even if he doesn't always understand my obsessions. He believes in me. He knows I'm not going to thank him for doing the bare minimum (respecting me, listening to me, helping me, not expecting me to mother him, etc). He genuinely fucking loves me. And he's pretty damn handsome and funny, too. Icing on the cake. And after losing all the people that we have over the years, we're pretty much all that we've got left. But I wouldn't choose to live this life with anyone else.

[selfcontainedunivcrse]

VWOOP can you tell me about serens story 👀

HI I would love to tell you about my little guy…

So. First of all, he is from minecraft :3. He is very meta about Minecraft, bc well. I like this sort of a framing :]. And uses a lot of headcanons about the Minecraft multiverse and servers and how the game is structured. Out of universe, this kind of translates to being a wannabe modder. 

He goes through three stages of life basically. He hangs out around a traditional server that devolves into violent conflict, in the way that servers sometimes do. Enough horrors happen that he just escapes. He does not identify a life before this. I don’t have a full cast for here yet but he does know a foil to himself named Requiem, and a meek redstoner with a mech-type. It’s supposed to be like a mid-sized SMP, and I think he held some sort of power before it devolved into The Horrors. (The supporting characters don’t come up again to him, though Req exists sort of like . As an allegory to him. In my brain.)

So, he dips. Without knowing what else to do, he becomes an adventurer traveling from server to server. Mechanically like a Wandering Trader. I have a servers in general headcanon that most servers can be left either though proper server navigation via communicator/portals/what have you, or you can walk far enough with the intention to leave and then end up in the realm of singleplayer and LAN worlds. You can return to your own singleplayer world/s easily through VIbes, but finding the same small servers/LAN worlds over and over on foot is difficult. He is primarily traveling on foot. He passes through a lot of servers and does not like what he sees at all, a lot of them devolving into similar senseless violence that happened to himself and his friends. He’s especially bothered by roleplay canonicity that goes beyond the regular mechanics Of Minecraft, like death/ghosts or giving power to random things in the world (like the Crimson Egg, HC Big Moon, stuff like that). He tries to learn more about the world through his adventuring, going beyond just being a trader of sorts to go on an Uncovering Secrets of the Universe quest. He starts to follow the research of other people who’ve done so, and basically ends up in modded minecraft.

It’s worth noting that at this point in his life, he’s also a smug little fool. He’s into the glory and the adrenaline of adventuring. He wants to go dungeoncrawling and almost die. This is fun and epic and he’s showing off.

Notably, in his modded adventurers, he picks up a questionably-implemented little creature. It’s some sort of unofficial cobblemon expansion with more Minecraft themed forms, like Nether and End themed. It’s incredibly experimental and he’d never come across worlds with it again. He names an ender wooper Vwoop and they’re his little companion, because adventuring is nice, but sort of lonely, and you can bucket them like an axolotl so its convenient. One day they start talking. He does not know enough about cobblemon to dispute this, but it can hold a weapon, so they’re adventuring partners now…?

And adventuring partners they are. They’re having a nice time. They’re some of the adventurers ever, even. Seren does the heavy lifting, but Vwoop is also here. Seren is forming new hypothesises about the world based on what he’s seeing. He’s come to some conclusions about the will of players shaping the world. (Vwoop asserts this isn’t that bad of a thing – he started talking to Vwoop like a person, and Vwoop became a person, in the style of mob NPCs/kids. Is that so bad?). Regardless, they are out here having a generally nice time. Showing off. Discovering things, pawning off rare items, having near-death experiences. Seren’s not afraid of his near-death experiences, he’s a confident respawner, but he is a bit nervous for Vwoop, considering they ARE just some creature.

Until he gets his own canon horrors! They’re exploring. They come across a dungeon. Cion lives here, and is NOT a fan of adventurers who believe that they can just do whatever they want. He was hibernating. Cion is significantly OP at this state in time, as he is actively cheating, and attacks the two. He’s easy on Vwoop, since they seem just to be going along with Seren, but leave Seren with a pretty bad withered scar on his shoulder where Cion claws him. You are not supposed to get scars in Minecraft. Seren dislikes this wholeheartedly. He respawns later on (Cion lets them go, he just wants to make a point) and it is still there. 

Seren writes this off as a skill issue. He got scared and let getting hurt mean something to him. He would not do it again. He solidifies his conspiracy theory of canonicity. He doesn’t have any real desire to settle down, so it’s not hard to try to keep his identity insular and not really latch on to anything hard enough that it would impact him. And this is his adventurer arc.

Somehow, Vwoop gets isekaid. I. I don’t know this part. I think Cion is involved again, but it’s not necessarily purposeful. Regardless, they are separated, and nobody likes this. Seren gets his emo arc. He tries to use what he’s learned about modding, and how some people were able to alter the universe, to somehow translate this to necromancy. To bring back his little guy. To do this he also settles down into a very small LAN world, and essentially gets super depressed. 

He is not very good at necromancy. (Vwoop is, also, not even dead! He doesn’t know this though). Instead, he creates another creature, which he also calls Vwoop. As it’s sort of a clone, he just presumes that it has memory loss for the first little while. He was also wholeheartedly not intending to be a parent. He doesn’t know how to be a parent. Honestly I’m not entirely sure how to title their relationship ooc, Vwoop considers him to be its sibling and Seren does not label it at all. However, he does have to raise it, because it has fully not seen the world before. And he does so very poorly. They live above a small shop set up for other travelers and trade modded items that he’d collected in his adventuring days, which he considers to be over. Instead he spends his time doing totally ethical science to try to crack modding, getting very into the idea of being able to control the physical world himself. Especially as his paranoia of the horrors of self-destructing server communities grow. He wants to be more than just a player and not be subject to such things. Enforcing his belief is proximity to the aforementioned cheater, Cion, as they basically become neighbours, and this kind of spirals.

They stay in a small community mostly comprised of people coming and going, and also Cion, much to Seren’s displeasure. Cion enjoys poking around in his personal life. Seren’s not doing great. He can muster customer service, and that’s pretty much it. Vwoop is increasingly aware about the nature of its existence, how depressed Seren is that it’s not *the* Vwoop, and also that it longs to explore for itself. While he trades modded items, it trades books, collecting accounts of other players’ experiences and stories and mythologies about other worlds. This drives them further apart, because it absolutely embodies Seren’s fears about the corrosiveness of servers. Eventually things come to a head with Vwoop figuring out more and more of his totally ethical science, and other creatures that he’s made and disposed of in the process of trying to perfect Vwoop. Eventually it makes the decision that it needs to live for itself, after they get into a fight (a physical one, on account of... Vwoop.). So it leaves quietly one night. (... after stealing his identity. It swipes his communicator on the way out.)

He does not know what to do now.

[morifinwes]

wangxian fic rec list!

aka in which i read fics, write some recs down for aamna and share them!! they're all wangxian fics and uhh @yibobibo i hope you'll like them!!

modern

wolf devours playboy bunny by @greenteafiend (5K, werewolf!lwj, getting together, idk if anyone needs to know that but there's nudity just not uhh explicit)

Lan Zhan has wanted Wei Ying as long as he has known him, and the worst part is that he thinks Wei Ying could want him back.

Too bad he could never in good conscience let himself go there—Wei Ying has a debilitating fear of all things canine, and once a month, Lan Zhan is the exact, precise thing that Wei Ying’s nightmares are made of.

Aka, Lan Zhan is a werewolf.

between the lines by @jywait (19K gaming au!!!, i'm always down for a good gaming au, lwj is the best aksks he's such a good boy)

☆yilingpatriarch☆: pls...give me some face, help me fight these monsters...I'm gonna die

Bluetooth: no.

"You have died." The screen said, and Wei Wuxian threw his hands up in frustration.

resonant frequencies by chinxe (15K, college au, fake dating au, tw mention of cheating but it's brief and no one was cheated on i promise)

In which Wei Wuxian decides that the best way to deal with being in love with Lan Wangji is to pretend to date him for three weeks.

It goes about as well as can be expected.

drift compatible by windoworwhatever (5K, poetry, fluff, drunkji, getting together, college au)

"It was just a fact of life. The sky was blue, university stipends for graduate students working in TA positions barely covered rent, bisexuals cuffed their jeans, Lan Wangji had a massive crush on Wei Wuxian, and spent his time pining and writing research papers about gay subtexts in ancient poetry."

OR

Lan Wangji is in love with Wei Wuxian, and everybody knows, except Wei Wuxian.

the bunny next door by detailsinthefabric (43K, this is mostly fluff and very light angst, and they were neighbors!!!, rabbits!!, aka wangxian's bunny children, this is... so cute i just have to rec it)

Lan Wangji did not know what he was doing. He did not know what he was going to say. He was frozen in place, puzzling over the situation. Maybe he had made the man uncomfortable, which is why he wanted to leave? But his tone had still been so friendly—maybe…

“Would…” he paused, swallowed, forced the last words to come out of his suddenly parched mouth, “would you let me pet him?”

-------------------------------------

Lan Wangji, who doesn't know how to socialize and whose icy demeanor scares everyone away, lets down all his defenses when he meets the bunny next door...oh, and also its owner, Wei Wuxian.

leading tone by silencemostofall (32K, everyone is a music student? or something like that akskk, curse fic, tw panic attacks, tw child abuse, small scene of drunkji, wwx has low self esteem, bro this was so painful to read)

The first time you touch someone you're fated to love, you leave a mark on their skin. If they will love you in return, they'll mark you where you touched them. The deeper the color, the deeper the connection.

Wei Ying has no marks at all.

public places, private thoughts by leahelisabeth (for the love of camelot) ( 8K, cherry magic au, getting together with like... immediate upgrade to fiance status, the author is wrong i crave good wangxian cherry magic aus even tho i haven't even watched cherry magic)

Wei Wuxian had heard the story of course. It had made its rounds through his high school and followed him into his college days. He didn’t think there was any possibility it was true. Virginity was a social construct, invented by creepy old men to exercise dominance over women. The idea that a simple lack of sexual activity before the age of thirty could give one magical powers was absolutely ludicrous.

Wei Wuxian believed this until the morning of his thirtieth birthday.

AKA the Wangxian Cherry Magic AU that absolutely nobody asked for.

i'd be all right (if i could see you) by @thirtysixsavefiles (16K, this was nice, i read this at 6am but it was cute, (while writing this post i must admit i don't remember anything but 6am-me said it's good))

The younger Lan brother is something of an enigma on campus; while Lan Xichen can sometimes be seen in the company of other graduate students or conducting a seminar, Lan Wangji appears to spend all his time in class or in the library. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t attend social events. He doesn’t do anything for fun, as far as Wei Wuxian can tell, and it’s driving Wei Wuxian just a little bit up the wall.

Or, Wei Wuxian convinces Lan Wangji to come to a house party, and then they're assigned to the same group project. Wei Wuxian tries his best, but he is not in possession of all the facts.

axe on leg by itszero (4K, i still don't get why wwx did that but it was nice seeing him jealous for once, jealous!wwx, lwj i love you....)

Wei Wuxian pressed his face into his pillow and screamed. He paused to take a few deep breaths, partially hindered by the pillow, and listened to the sounds of Nie Huaisang slurping his iced coffee, from his seat on Wei Wuxian's desk chair.

Having caught his breath, he resumed his screaming and did not stop at the sound of his dorm room door opening.

"What's wrong with him?" He heard his brother, Jiang Cheng, ask.

The slurping stopped. "He's an idiot."

"He's always been an idiot. Why is he bothered about it now?"

"He forced Lan Wangji to go on a date," Nie Huaisang replied, shaking the ice cubes in his drink.

"Okay and…?"

"With someone else." The slurping resumed.

Wei Wuxian, in all his glorious dumbassery, convinces his boyfriend to go on a date with someone else.

these two most powerful by @stiltonbasket (4K, amnesia, wangxian with children!!!, aksksk this was adorable, dadji!!)

When Lan Wangji went to bed last night, he was alone in a tiny guest room with nothing but the howling of the wind in the mountains and his own lonely thoughts for company.

 

But when he opened his eyes in the morning, Wei Ying was asleep beside him.

 

(In which Lan Wangji loses twenty years' worth of memories after a night-hunt gone wrong, and his life as a doting father and husband continues without a hitch somehow.)

good things come to those who wait [but i ain't in a patient phase] by @cerlunas (4K, getting together, pining lwj)

Lan Wangji can't take it anymore.

 

“I love you”, he says, and god, it feels terrifying. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian starts, but Lan Wangji doesn’t want to hear it.

He grabs his cup and drinks everything. He doesn’t know what face Wei Wuxian is making at him right now, and it’s okay. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian repeats louder, but it’s too late. He is already falling asleep.

Or, even after 13 years, Lan Wangji is still in love with his best friend. Maybe it's time to open up.

wei ying, will you marry m- oh my god he swallowed the ring! by selene210 (2K, marriage proposals, crack, marriage proposals but.. they go wrong)

“A ring?”

And indeed it was. The ring Lan Wangji was going to propose to Wei Ying with. That the man had now choked on.

“You swallowed it.”

“It was in my soufflé! Why did you put a ring in my soufflé Lan Zhan- oh. oh”

of glittery valentine's cards by @soft-fics (3K, valentine's day, this was adorable aksk, a-yuan best boy!!)

Lan Zhan didn't want to know what his best friend had planned for Valentine's Day; his heart would simply not be able to handle it. When his son tells him that he made Wei Ying a Valentine's Day card, though, Lan Zhan decided to bring it over anyway.

of coffee and white tea by @soft-fics (9K, fluff, lwj doesn't like coffee, wwx buys him coffee, then they switch drinks, again and again and again, the staff ships it lmao, tbh jc shouldn't have done that like wtf)

For the fourth time this week a stranger orders him a cup of coffee. Lan Wangji wonders how exactly to tell this man to stop ordering him coffee he doesn't even like. Turns out, buying the other white tea and switching drinks is not the best way to go about it

canon setting

on the importance of restraint (or lack thereof) by nixthothou (4K, in which sizhui snaps, i love that boy, no like seriously he's the best boy)

Lan Sizhui does not usually find himself in the company of Sect Leader Jiang.

Suffice to say, Lan Sizhui's feelings toward him are conflicted.

lan wangji is wei wuxian's baby by lilycs (3K, i was craving fluff while reading this, lwj my beloved, drunk!lwj)

Lan Wangji gets drunk from barely a cup of alcohol, becoming a whiny baby and asking his husband for cuddles.

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (8K, wei wuxian & lan sect, 5+1 things, in which they learn to love him, they're all part of the wwx protection squad lead by lwj, wangxian isn't the focus but !!! THIS)

Times change, but some people remain the same.

The Lans are nothing, if not aware of this.

For one of their own, they will stand against the world.

Or, 5 times the Lans defended Wei Wuxian, and the 1 time he was there to see it happen.

so why not crack your skull when the mind swells by @greenteafiend (13K, love curse, post cql canon, curses, getting together, fluff, so much fluff, lwj tries to talk about his emotions!, lwj pov)

Lan Wangji detects the curse trying to curl through his heart meridians like smoke. A love curse, then. It must have been cast remotely somehow to have found him in his bed in Cloud Recesses. No matter. Lan Wangji crushes it easily, enveloping it in his spiritual energy, and then squeezing. Curse averted, Lan Wangji closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. He thinks no more of it.

Two days later, Wei Wuxian arrives in Cloud Recesses.

Or, Wei Wuxian is cursed to feel terrible pain when he and Lan Wangji aren’t touching.

i started from the bottom / now i'm rich by x_los (57K, time travel, fix it, jealous lwj, crack treated serious, god this is so good tho, wwx/wrh & wwx/jgs but like as a joke and it doesn't really happen, but it has its purpose!!)

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

 

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

lead me on through by mrsronweasley (55K, they're in love your honor, arranged marriage but they don't know to whom, basically wwx & lwj want to practice kissing which then goes beyond kissing but not the whole way y'know, lxc the best wingman tho)

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

[thebadgerclan]

Harry Potter Masterlist 2

FIRST MASTERLIST HERE

** indicates smut

Harry Potter x reader

Self-Critical- After a raid goes wrong, Harry finds solace in your arms and the bath...

Better**- Your plans got rained out, but you don’t mind...

Better Than Treacle**- Better than treacle, now that’s saying something...

Safe Now- When he’s with you, he knows he’s safe...

Secrecy- It has to stay between you, it just does...

On The Line- Harry won’t risk your life...

Wrong Order- Harry doesn’t regret last night at all...

Caught- Sex in your parents’ house isn’t a good idea...

Just Be Yourself- Harry gets some relationship advice from his godfather...

Under The Stars- A warm summer night under the stars...

My Baby- Sometimes, Harry needs to hear how much you love him...

In Time- It doesn’t feel real yet, but it will, in time...

Just Another Teenager- Harry’s just another teenager...

Pretty Damn Cool- Harry teaches you to cast a Patronus...

Hermione Granger x reader

SFW Alphabet

NSFW Alphabet**

Fred Weasley x reader

A Little Bit Of Fun**- Fred decided to have a little fun with you today...

Perfect**- There are so many words to describe your boyfriend...

Sweet- Complementary desserts and diamond rings...

George Weasley x reader

For Years- He’s waited for 2 years, he’ll love you for so many more...

Pay Attention- George can’t seem to pay attention at Order meetings...

SFW Alphabet

NSFW Alphabet**

Flying- You conquer your fear of flying...

Cat and Mouse- George thinks your costume is positively adorable...

Charlie Weasley x reader

Being Married To Charlie HCs

Charlie As A Dad HCs

Domestic Life w/ Charlie HCs

Dating Charlie HCs

Bill Weasley x reader

Being Married To Bill HCs

Smut HCs**

Yet**- You haven’t gone that far yet, but tonight, you will...

Oliver Wood x reader

Mo Leannan- Oliver’s training sessions run late...

The Alchemist- He’s not the best with words, but he’ll tell you how much he loves you every day...

Not A Beater- Oliver isn’t a beater, that’s for damn sure...

Not As Beautiful As You- Oliver takes you to a beautiful waterfall, but it’s not the most beautiful thing there...

Busy Week- You’ve both been so busy and you miss your boyfriend...

Victory**- You help Oliver celebrate after winning the Quidditch Cup...

Tom Riddle x reader

The Only Exception- Tom doesn’t care that you’re muggle born

The Dark Lord and His Dark Lady- While he sometimes doubts, you are his and he is yours...

Anniversary- Yours and Tom’s third anniversary...

Draco Malfoy x reader

A Different Side- Draco can let his walls down around you...

The Price Of Being A Malfoy- You’re everything his family isn’t...

Lucius Malfoy x reader

Real Love- Lucius truly loves you...

Regardless- Lucius doesn’t care what anyone else thinks...

No One Better- He thinks that after all he’s done, you deserve better...

Work Of Art- Your art is the most beautiful he’s ever seen...

Satisfied**- Lucius’ cock always leaves you satisfied...

Whenever You’re Ready- Lucius adores you in every single way, but he’ll wait until you’re ready...

Being Insecure About Small Breasts w/ Lucius**

Heal Your Broken Heart- Your heart’s been broken, but Lucius wants to fix it...

Sex w/ Lucius HCs**

Day Off**- Lucius takes a day off, and spend it teasing you...

Never Felt Like This- Lucius has never felt like this about anyone...

All Yours- Lucius gets jealous, even though you’re all his...

Star- Lucius never realized how famous you are...

I Am Yours- You’re disheartened when you find out that Lucius has mistresses, but he is yours and yours alone...

SFW Alphabet

Watch Yourself**- When you’re feeling down, Lucius shows you just how perfect you are...

NSFW Alphabet** 

Lucius w/ a Virgin Reader HCs**

Lucius Comforting a Sad Reader HCs

Jealous/Possessive Lucius HCs

Ruined News- His actions ruined your good news, not that he’d care at this point...

Kissing HCs

Lunch Break**- You visit Lucius on his lunch break...

Oral HCs**

Pretty Girl**- You like it when Lucius tells you how well you’re doing...

All Of You**- You’re ready to give Lucius all of you...

So Good**- His teasings fell so good, but you need more...

Body Worship HCs**

Lucius As A Soft Dom HCs**

Collar- Picking out your first collar...

Rules**- You broke a rule...

Newt Scamander x reader

Second Niffler- Newt and Phil see your form for the first time...

Never Felt Happier- Newt has never been happier than he is right now...

Sham- Newt will remind as many times as he has to: you are not a sham...

Always Protect You- Newt won’t let anyone or anything hurt you...

Not Always Innocent- Newt always assumes they’re innocent...

A Few Drinks- After a few drinks, Newt has to remind you that you’re together...

Still Like You More- Newt is afraid to take you into the case...

A Fire Burning In My Heart- You feel exactly what the lyrics say...

Trying To Tell You- All week, you’ve tried to tell him...

Racing Hearts- You make his heart race, and he makes yours race...

His Shirt**- Newt can’t resist you, seeing you in his shirt...

That Time Of The Month-Newt takes care of you during your period...

Take Care Of My Baby**- When Newt wakes up hard, you take care of him...

Pretty Kitty- Animagi take on traits of their forms, but Newt doesn’t know about yours...

Lonely- Newt’s been working constantly on his book...

Lost Niffler- A lost niffler leads to a new relationship...

Jealous of the Niffler- He knows it’s silly, but he’s still jealous...

Cedric Diggory x reader

I Know I’m In Love- Cedric had an amazing afternoon...

Make A Move- He knows how you feel, but he’s waiting for you to make the first move...

Back To Her- He was so scared he wouldn’t come back to you...

A Bit Nervous- Cedric’s a bit nervous to ask you to the Yule Ball...

Spicing Things Up**- It might not have been a very productive conversation, but you’ve certainly spiced things up...

Life After- You both dream of a life after the war...

Broom Cupboard- The Head Boy and Girl caught snogging...

NSFW Alphabet**

SFW Alphabet

Here (TW: ABUSE MENTIONS)- Your brother shows up at Hogwarts...

The Golden Boy’s First**- Cedric’s first time...

Neville Longbottom x reader

December Afternoons- A picnic in the snow...

Spin The Bottle- Fred and George introduce a muggle party game...

Soul Marks and Nifflers- He was afraid he’d never find you...

SFW Alphabet

NSFW Alphabet**

Staying In**- The two of you stay in today...

Lily Evans x reader

New Record**- You’ve never done 5 before...

Chilled- Quidditch in the cold...

Oral HCs**

Braids and Patroni- Lily braids your hair while you work on your homework...

Burnt**- You get a bit distracted while Lily’s baking...

Broken Hearts and Friendships- You won’t put her through that stress anymore...

SFW Alphabet

NSFW Alphabet**

James Potter x reader

Dating James HCs

Best/Worst Things About James HCs

Serious James HCs

Domestic Life w/ James HCs

Oral HCs**

Sirius Black x reader

The Man I Fell In Love With**- He’s changed, but he’s still the man you fell in love with...

Got It Bad- Though Gryffindor lost, Sirius is extraordinarily happy...

Home Safe- They both come home that night...

Her First Match- You wouldn’t miss this match for the world

Handsome- You see Sirius shirtless...

Distracted- Your thoughts are anywhere but the meeting...

Part 2: Puppy**- Sirius knows how to please you...

Oral HCs**

Want Him**- He wants you and you want him...

First Christmas After- His first Christmas as a free man...

Take Care Of You**- Sirius needs you to take care of him...

Jealous/Possessive HCs

Blankets- The heat’s out, but you don’t mind...

Sentenced- Halloween night in Godric’s Hollow...

Starlight- Sometimes, Sirius can’t believe he’s really home...

Padfoot’s Lament- Now he’s free, but you are gone...

A Nap, Interrupted**-  Sirius interrupts your nap, but you’re not upset...

My Idiot- Sirius thought it was a good idea to climb the Whomping Willow

Our House, Our Home- Your house doesn’t smell like home, which distresses your Omega...

Picking Out Your Baby’s Name w/ Sirius

Sirius Black Reacting To You Telling Him “I Don’t Date People Prettier Than Me”

Convince Me- He’ll spend the rest of his life convincing you he’s not a player if that’s what you want...

My Good Puppy**- Sirius’ behavior has earned him a reward...

All I Need- You don’t need dates or fancy dinners...

Seconds Away- Death was seconds away from both of you...

Face**- Sirius wants you to sit on his face...

1,095 Days- Three years, and this is how you’re repaid...

SFW Alphabet

A Hero’s Death- Sirius finds out what really happened to Regulus...

Return The Favor**- Sirius’ stamina is a bit low, but you don’t mind...

Can’t Hurt You Here- He doesn’t quite believe it yet, but nothing can hurt him here...

Different Scent- Sirius comes home, but your scent is different...

The Art of Distraction- Sirius is infinitely skilled in the art of distraction...

Hellscape- These raids are dangerous...

Brother’s Best Friend- Dating your brother’s best friend, what could go wrong?

Out In The Open- It’s all out in the open now...

Enjoy The View- You get a glimpse of your man fresh out of the shower...

Failed Exam- He’ll always be there to make you feel better...

Remus Lupin x reader 

Rough and Hard**- As it turns out, Remus isn’t always so tender...

Hurt (platonic)- When you’re hurt on a mission, Sirius jumps to a conclusion...

Vacation**- A week of relaxation...

Dating Remus HCs

Creatures Of The Night- You’ve known since you met...

Best/Worst Things About Remus HCs

Moony’s Needs**- Moony needs you...

Part 2: Pack- You’re part of his pack...

Domestic Life/ Kids w/ Remus HCs

Being Insecure About Small Breasts w/ Remus

Confident, Lycanthropy Accepting Remus HCs

Dating Remus Since 4ht Year & Being Couple Goals HCs

Oral HCs**

The Rest Of Your Life- Graduation’s almost here...

Getting Eaten Out From Behind HCs**

Mornings w/ Kids HCs

Tomorrow Isn’t Promised**- Tomorrow isn’t promised, but right now, you can push those thoughts aside...

Spanking In The Dorms/Prefect’s Bathroom HCs**

Sex At Hogwarts HCs**

Recuperation-Like every month, you care for your lover after the full...

My Forever- You’re his forever, he knows that for certain...

Honeymoon HCs

The Marauders Coming To Visit Your New Baby HCs

Her Big Bad Wolf- The annual Gryffindor Halloween Party...

The Healer’s Day Off- Every month, you take time off to care for you love...

Scents- Your scent changed, and Moony isn’t quite sure why...

Grind**- Remus finds you when you don’t show up for dinner...

The Forest- A trip into the forest gone wrong...

Mine Alone**- He’ll let him watch, but you’re his and his alone...

Pink- It happened with no words...

Nicknames- Remus discovers your new favorite nickname...

Panda In The Forest- This bear definitely doesn’t belong here, but Moony knows who it is...

Vulnerable**-Sometimes, Remus can let himself be vulnerable...

Transformation- Remus is suspicious of how much time you’re spending with Sirius...

Everything To Me- Remus’ insecurities get to him, but you remind him that he is everything to you...

After The Battle- Remus comes to you after the battle...

Your Kiss- The first kiss of many...

Provide For You- You have more than enough money to provide for him...

NSFW Alphabet**

Beautiful Body- After someone comments on your body, Remus helps you feel better...

SFW Alphabet

Months- Remus has liked you for months, but he’s shy...

Professor Lupin’s “Assistant”**- An evening spent between Professor Lupin and his “assistant”...

What You Want To Call Me**- Remus isn’t what you want to call him...

More Pregnant**- Remus know he can’t get you more pregnant, but at the moment, he doesn’t care...

Safe and Loved- After the full moon, Remus needs to feel protected...

Perfect Evening- Your dress might be ruined, but your evening is not...

Dangerous- Even something as simple as going to the store is dangerous now...

His Alpha’s Arms- Remus is overjoyed to be back in his Alpha’s arms...

Battle Scars- His scars are marks of strength...

Interrupted- Yours and Remus’ make out is interrupted...

Trading Jabs- It’s all in good fun...

Quiet Down- The office isn’t warded...

Severus Snape x reader

The Two Of Us- It’s been so long since you’ve had time together...

First Place- He knew you could do it...

Full Marks**- You’ll do anything to raise your grade...

So In Love With You- The rest of your lives is ahead of you...

Lioness- Severus didn’t want to go to the party, but you still find a way to help him enjoy himself...

After Everything- He deserves more than you can give, but you’re his nonetheless...

One Little Thing- Arguments happen, but it still hurts...

It Was You- You’ll always defend him, even in the past...

Good Boy**- Severus is many things, but above all, he is yours in many ways...

Cheetah and Bat- Seeing your Animagus inspires Severus to give it another try...

The Perfect Day- Any day is a perfect day when he’s with you...

Be Still**- Severus needs to grade these exams, but you’re both wanting each other...

Nerves**- While you’re both nervous, you both want this...

Different- Even though you just met, you can tell he’s different...

Ink- Severus never took you for the type to have tattoos...

Years Of Yearning- Severus is able to live through a book, years of yearning being somewhat satisfied...

Mistletoe**- Christmas break is finally here...

I Can’t Lose You- The world is dangerous, and he can’t lose you...

Hard- Severus helps you to relax when the world becomes a bit too much...

The Perfect Day- You plan a day out for your lover...

Sweet Affections- Severus loved being in your arms...

The Mark- He has to tell you...

Not Your Fault- He blames himself...

Figure It Out- After Dumbledore fell...

Midnight Patrols-You can’t sleep when he’s not here..

Mistake- The messenger of the prophecy...

Better Off- If this is how you’ll act, he’s better off without you..

Part 2: His Fragile Heart- He was wrong, and he wants you back

Fantasize**- Severus sees your classtime fantasies...

Severus Getting Married To An American Reader So He Can Vote Against Tr*mp HCs

A Life Without You (TW: SUICIDE)- He can’t live without you...

Those Three Little Words- You love each other more than anything, but you seldom say those three little words...

Being Insecure About Small Breasts w/ Severus

Good Grades**- Good grades pay off...

Coming Clean- At your graduation, secrets are revealed

Sex w/ Severus HCs**

Dating Severus and Being A Professor HCs

Kissing HCs

Oral HCs**

Happy Birthday, My Love- The morning of his birthday...

Not All That Bad- Severus shows you that Slytherin isn’t all that bad...

Pick You-You watch The Bachelor with Severus...

Deep Inside**- Severus won’t let you come until he’s deep inside you...

After Everything- After everything he’s done, you still want to be his, forever...

Jealous/Possessive HCs

They Won’t Know**- Severus wants you, and he doesn’t care who sees...

Severus With A Virgin Reader HCs**

The Best Addiction- You’re addicted to him, as he is to you...

See Your Worth- When you’re feeling inadequate, Severus shows you how much he loves you...

Only You- A night spent with your love...

Few Weaknesses- You discover one of Severus’ few weaknesses...

Protective HCs

Hold On For Me- In that moment, it was the only option...

The Most Beautiful Sound- The students mock your accent, but Severus adores it...

Feel The Same- Severus doesn’t want to ruin your friendship...

Never Hurt You (TW: PAST ABUSE)- You know he’ll never hurt you...

Wake Up Call**- You enjoy waking Severus up, between his legs, that is...

Prima Donna- Severus helps you relax after weeks of rehearsals...

The Great White Way- Severus’s jealousy flares seeing you on stage with another man...

Where You Go, I Go (TW: SUICIDE)- You’ll follow wherever he goes...

Beautiful, Gorgeous, Perfect- Severus knows that you feel insecure sometimes, and he knows how to make you feel better...

What Better Wat To Wake Up?**- Severus wakes you up in a very pleasant way...

New Toys**- Severus brings home some new toys...

Only Yours**- Severus makes sure you know you’re his...

Like This**- Severus wants you just like this...

The Letter- You never planned to send it...

Giving and Receiving**- Tonight, you’re both giving and receiving...

Craving Affection-You’re craving Severus’ affection, and he’s more than happy to give it to you...

Obscenely Affectionate**- Valentine’s Day, an excuse to be obscenely affectionate, an excuse which Severus willingly takes...

Your Grace**- Severus teaches you the wonders of the marriage bed...

Hufflepuff At Heart- You may not be a witch, but Severus knows you’re a badger

Restless- You’re on a mission for the Order, and Severus is worried...

Severus Comforting A Sad Reader HCs

Nothing Like Him- Part of him can’t believe you want to have kids with him...

Beauty In Everything- You find beauty in everything, even in things others don’t find beautiful...

Domestic Life w/ Sev HCs

New Style- You braid Severus’ hair...

Not A Dream- Though it feels like a dream, you assure him it isn’t...

Shooting Stars- Everyone wishes on shooting stars, but you already have everything you want...

Smile- It doesn’t matter how big or small it is, Severus will do anything to see you smile...

You’re Mine**- When Severus’ assistant gets a little too friendly, you remind your husband who he belongs to...

An Amazing Father- Severus is afraid of fatherhood, but you know you’ll be alright...

Pretty Little Prefect**- The monthly prefect’s meeting...

Such A Good Job**- You’ve done such a good job pleasuring yourself, Severus wants you to finish it...

Bath Bombs- Severus puts his own touch on muggle bath bombs...

Captivity- His worst nightmare was coming true...

No More- It was just too much...

Nesting- Your heat’s a few days away...

Keep No Secrets- Severus knows he has to tell you, but he’s terrified...

Lots of Practice- Severus has never kissed anyone before...

Happy Anniversary- Your second wedding anniversary with Severus...

Keep You Safe-You know Severus will keep you safe, especially from other Alphas...

Need To See Him- You need to see him, to make sure he’s alright...

All Mine**- When Lucius gets a little too friendly, Severus reminds you that you’re all his...

Be On Top**- Severus wants you to be on top for the first time...

Missed You**- After nearly a week in London, you return home...

Perfectly Fine- Severus takes care of you after a prank gone wrong, and feelings are revealed...

A Galaxy Far, Far Away- You introduce Severus to Star Wars...

Need You Here- After a nightmare, you need your husband by your side...

Long Weekend**- While you don’t make it to most of your plans, you and Severus still enjoy yourselves...

A Little Risky**-You and Severus have some fun at the Order meeting...

Snowball Fight-A snowball fight with your husband...

Finally Home- Your fiance returns home after a month and a half...

Unbothered**- Severus’ isn’t bothered by your period, he still wants to taste you...

NSFW Alphabet**

SFW Alphabet

My Perfect, Beautiful Man**- You give Severus some much needed praise and attention...

Never Cheat On You- Severus thinks you’re cheating, but he couldn’t be farther from the truth...

Slow, Tender, and Sensual**- Your first time with Severus is everything you wanted: slow, tender, and sensual...

The Only Woman I’ll Ever Love- Severus didn’t listen to her, you’re the only women he’ll ever love...

My Princess- For your birthday, Severus treats you like the princess you are...

Spare A Dance For Me- You help Severus teach the Slytherins to dance...

Validation**- Severus craves validation, and you’re more than willing to give it...

Hands**- You watch Severus while he brews.  Well, you watch his hands...

Sweet Spot**- Severus’ sweet spot makes him feel so good...

Grateful- One year after the battle...

Your Heart Is A Treasure- Severus won’t treat you like they did...

The Matron’s Assistant- You return to Hogwarts, and find more than just work...

Make A Bad Day Better- You always make bad days better...

Always Yours- It doesn’t matter what anyone says or does, you’re always his...

Throne**- Severus makes you feel like a queen, especially in bed...

Discipline- You’ve always been light on discipline with your daughter...

Don’t Give A Damn- You don’t give a damn that Severus is younger than you, but he’s still insecure...

Precipice**- Severus decides to play a little game with you... 

Not A Prank- He’s convinced it’s a prank by the Marauders...

Caught- The twins catch you and Severus in an intimate moment...

Nocturnal Conversations- Severus converses with you while you sleep-talk...

The Right Time- It just felt like the right time to ask...

With You- He never thought you could be happy with him...

Eyes On Me**- You want him to look at you when he comes...

My Vow To You- His vow to you trumps all others...

Show You How**- Severus teaches you how to suck his cock...

Bare Face- Severus sees you for the first time without makeup...

Let It Out- After someone shouts at you, Severus makes you feel better...

Denied**- Severus is needy, but you’re busy...

Perfectly Valid- Severus loves you just as  you are...

The Bigger Man- He needs to be the bigger man with Lupin...

Every Inch**- Severus wants to kiss every inch of you...

Every Part- You love every part of him, even the parts he doesn’t...

Get Away- A vacation with your family...

Still New- Your relationship is still so new, you can’t help but be a little flustered...

Entirely Real- You can’t believe that this is really happening...

Cared For- After the full moon, you just need to be cared for...

Little Tease**- Your choice of attire gets Severus a little riled up...

Argument/Making Up HCs

Severus as a Soft Dom HCs**

Too Good**- He just couldn’t hold back...

His Turn- You’ve cared for him, now it’s his turn to care for you...

Twice the Fun**- Severus’ new potion gives twice the fun...

Tail-End**- It might be the tail-end of your heat, but you’re still needing him...

Overwhelmed (platonic)- When things feel overwhelming, help comes from an unlikely person...

My Misstress’ Eyes Are Nothing Like The Sun- When Severus is assigned midnight patrol, you can’t sleep...

Have You Right Here- Your Alpha always knows how to make you feel better...

Severus Snape x reader x Remus Lupin

Now**- After your lovers tease you, you need them now

Punishments and Pleasure**- While the evening began in a punishment, it ended with immense pleasure...

Filled**- A morning in the library..

Waited For You**- You’ve been gone for two days, but your lovers waited for you...

Forgot The Charm**- The three of you seemed to have forgotten the silencing charm...

Remus Lupin x reader x Sirius Black

He’s Home- He’s home, and he needs you...

Life w/ Kids HCs

Happy Birthday- Remus and Sirius treat you on your birthday...

Their Job- They’re your alphas, it’s their job to take care of you...

Help You Feel Good**- Your lovers show you how to use your new toy...

His Beautiful Loves**- Remus loves to watch, but he also loves to join in...

Cuddles- You join your lovers on the couch...

How Do You Want Us?**- Remus fucks you while you fuck Sirius...

SFW Alphabet

Noisy Little Thing**- You need to be quiet, lest the whole Order hear...

Broken Collar- It was an accident, but you’re still very upset about it...

Severus Snape x reader x Lucius Malfoy

Impersonations- It’s all in good fun...

More Than Desperate**- After your lovers tease you all day, you’re more than desperate for them...

Insatiable**- You can’t get enough...

Needy**- Your period makes you horny, and your men certainly aren’t complaining...

Good Beta**- Your Beta takes care of you until your Alpha comes home...

Tonight**- Tonight, they will have them, and they will have you...

Full**- Both your men fill you up...

Feeling Needy**- Severus is feeling needy today...

Snuggles- After a long day, the three of you want to be close...

Fuck Waiting**- They can’t wait anymore, you look too sexy...

Overworked- When school take its toll, your lovers are there...

James Potter x reader x Remus Lupin

Sensual**- Slow, sweet, and sensual...

New Heights**- James and Remus take your pleasure to new heights...

Being Married To, Honeymoon, Sex w/, Twins w/ Remus and James HCs

Wedding HCs

A Future With Them- You can’t wait for the future

Yourself**- They want you to make yourself come...

Good Together**- Remus thinks you two look so good together...

Scars**- You show Remus just how perfect he is...

What Their Home Is Like HCs

Remus and James As Parents HCs

Cedric Diggory x reader x Harry Potter

Dating Cedric and Harry HCs

Cedric Diggory x reader x Hermione Granger

Domestic Life HCs

Sex HCs**

James Potter x reader x Lily Evans

First Heat**- Your first heat...

Harry Potter x Severus Snape

Through It All- Harry has been there through it all...

Paradise- Harry takes his husband away for a week...

Good Boy**- Severus loves being Harry’s good boy...

Slipped His Mind**- Severus forgets something important...

Unwavering- Harry’s support and love for his husband is unwavering...

My Perfect Boy**- When Severus is feeling insecure, his Daddy helps him see...

Much Better**- After a bad day, Harry helps Severus feel better...

James Potter x Lily Evans

James and Lily As Friends HCs

Everyone Can See- Everyone can see they’re falling for each other...

Sirius Black x Lily Evans

Sirius x Lily HCs

Other

Marauders x an Ilvermorny Transfer HCs

[kunimikat]

hi! i'm having a hard time mentally lately and i recently found out that i kind of erm,,,,, when my mental health is really bad my brain is like "no!😀" and skyrockets me into absolute baby mode and just want cuddles and love and i feel really lonely and don't talk a lot. bokuto is my comfort character so if you woudlnt mind could you do some headcanons or whatever you want- about him helping? feel free to ignore this i know it's a bit strange💔 but i thought i'd throw it out there :) 💞

I really hope it gets better for you, I hope my shitty HCs somehow makes your day a little better. Lots of love 🥺🤲❤️oh and this might’ve come off more angsty but I promise I put fluff at the end. And listen to this while reading cause it just makes this- 💔🦟🦗🦟🦗❤️

Requests are open! And if you have requests like this I’m happy to do them :)

Also proof read but still might be mistakes.sorry, there might be some triggering things in here, but there is nothing crazy so I think it’s ok 🧍

Before you guys even got together he’d always check up on you.

To the point were he subconsciously did it anywhere, and anytime

He’d give you small owl knickknacks or a snack before school started, or when it ended. Making sure you ate something that day.

Or he’d just try to make you laugh as much as he could during then

But sometimes he’d drop everything, and just give you a tight hug. Anywhere, no matter who it was in front of. Holding you close to him, not saying anything but you could hear him tripping over the words he wanted to say but just couldn’t.

He could tell it was a bad day where you’d come in and just sit on the benches or bleachers with both in mind but staring at the bright fluorescent gym lights. Where you’d just zone out mid-conversation and look at your feet or phone in disinterest. When you’d throw in a sarcastic self-deprecation joke when someone would ask if you’re ok.

Or when you’d have days where you’d stay up studying, doing your homework, and not sleeping for who knows how long when you come in with the energy drink in hand. Or the days when you’d get nothing done, and just sleep everything away and just deal with it the next day.

It didn’t take a therapist or a mastermind to tell you weren’t ok.

The nervous tics, the small lip bites, the impulsive “Let’s do something and think about consequences later!”

Bokuto knew he was just like the latter but at least it wasn’t all the time, so when he saw his bestfriend and crush slowly killing themselves mentally (and maybe physically, he was hoping not), yet cracking jokes about it the next second. All he wanted to do was run in and kiss you until all you felt was loved.

He just wanted to see you happy again

He felt like fainting everytime he saw you giggle or laugh at his antics(knowing Bokuto that has probably happened)

Or when you and Ahgkaaashi would hang out with him at the Owl section of the Zoo and pick out your favorite ones

When you two would try cooking some dish either of you couldn even try pronouncing and it ending in a mess. One he didn’t mind cleaning up when he got to talk to you throughout the whole time.

The times you’d have to turn in your work a little late because you were helping Bokuto cope after losing a game, which he felt bad about but you brushed it off with a genuine smile saying “I can’t leave poor Akaashi with Bokuemo for the rest of the week can I?” “H-Hey!”

When you and Bokuto would hang out in the bird themed cafe on the end of the street from school. And just be yourselves without having to impress anyone.

How you excuse yourself from the group of people you barely knew the names of, to go cry in the bathroom then come back as if nothing happened.

Times where you both forget your in highschool with insecurities, voice cracks, stress, and having to make a decision regarding the rest of your life by the end of it. And just laying in some random parking lot, staring into the blaring street lamp light and the stars behind it.

Bokuto loved it when you didn’t use the jokes to cover up how you felt. Or how you jumped to another subject when he would ask. When you tell him everything you’re feeling.,

The confusion, the way you didn’t know why your mind worked the way it did and why you felt horrible all of a sudden but fine the next.

You wanted it to stop, to have an explanation for the way you think and why. Yet now you’re telling no one, and clearly holding it in. Bokuto was now watching you letyour emotions eat you alive from the inside out.

He just wanted the you he knew. The you that he had so many fun memories with. Not the forced persona you played when you needed a cover up for how you truly felt.

This wasn’t the way he wanted to confess but it was getting all too much for Bokuto to watch,

Bokuto’s tears were streaming down his face as he had you held out in front of him. His body was trembling and his grasp was so shaky it was easy to break away. But you knew you could ever do that to him, or yourself. He clenched his jaw , not being able to lock eyes with you, a painful tug at his heart everytime he locked eyes with your hopeless look. You felt tears brimming your eyes yet you didn’t even know why he sat you down here. But you felt it was your fault, so immediately you let out a ‘Sorry-‘

Instead of an answer Bokuto pulled you toward him, pushing your head into the crook of his neck. You let out a choked noise as surprise, instinctively wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Why...why’re you saying sorry Y/N? I should be saying sorry for not helping you, I-“

Bokuto lost his breath for a second as a silent sob wracked his body, bringing you closer to him. Tears were falling down from your eyes but you could barely feel them as they became a stream.

“Y/N, I love you, I love you so, so much. Why are you doing this to yourself? You know you could come talk to me, I-I’m not the the best therapist but,-“

He let out a shaky breath, pulling you back out to look at you directly. You squeezed his arm that was holding you, reassuring him you felt the same way, but also to go on. Puffy eyes and a tear stained face looked at you sternly. “Please, please don’t keep these feelings to yourself Y/N. It hurts, it hurts me so much when I see you like this. Especially since you feel like you can’t come to me. I-, I-“

Bokuto bit his lip, clenching his eyes tight, forcing the tears that were already threatening to fall out. “I don’t want to see you like this. I love you, I love you.”The only thing lacing his tone is the sincerity in it.

He says it again to make sure you understood every word that came from him. But he didn’t need to. His grip so tight on your arms it almost hurt. But in a way, you didn’t mind it as it showed you how much more serious this was to him.

“You have me, Kaashi, the team, and honestly anyone! We all love you and what you have to say!”

You both give small shaky laughs, despite the situation, the tension slowly melting. He wipes the tears that were flowing down your cheeks, kissing each one after he did. You held each one of his hand. Squeezing them to give yourself courage, and to know this was all too real.

“Bokuto...I’m so sorry to you and everyone else. I- I locked myself away because I thought I would be bothering you and everyone and could just get over it then push the feelings down. But now seeing you...seeing you so much...pain, someone I love hurt because of me. I...I really realize how I was affecting everyone.”

Bokuto tried denying but you shook your head, your eyes that were looking down were now up at him.

“I’ve come to reality especially after seeing you like this Bo, I love you too, and I want to make it up to you this whole week! No, month...year? Whatever. I’ll be better for our future. And you know what, why don’t I help you with that math homework so we’re both gonna get better at something by the end of the week!”

Laugher filled the once cold room with a feeling of warmth that you couldn’t explain. Bokuto leaned in and gave a small peck. You were about to give a small hum in happiness. Until he pulled far back away from you in panic.

“I-Is something wrong Bo? Does my breath stink-“

“N-NONONO NOTHING LIKE THAT. ITS JUST...I just kissed you without asking...a-and I read in a magazine you’re supposed to do that or your crush won’t like you back!”

Silence.

But you interrupted it with your laughter, holding onto to one of his shoulders to not fall over. He had a confused look on his face as he fidgeted, not knowing what to do. “Y-Y/N! What?”

“You’re so stupid Bo,”

And like that you pulled him into a kiss, one he quickly melted into. He made a small surprised noise, but that was the only noise of complaint. The kiss turned into Bokuto giving you pecks all over your face. A giddy feeling in your stomach with each one. Between the kisses you say “Y’know I’m surprised you decided to sit down and read a magazine without testing on the real deal.” His face has a small flush, instead of saying anything he just kisses you aggressively all over, causing you to reel back and laugh harder. He pulls away from the assault and grabs your hand. He leads you over to the couch and hugs you as you both flop onto the couch. You looked at him confused, “Bo?”

But he just turned the TV on, clicked through the channels, until he found one he liked. He looked over at you excitedly, “Let’s cuddle and watch the movie I was talking about last week!”

The genuine excitement in his voice was all it took to have you wrapped around his finger. So now it was getting late and you were falling asleep to Bokuto gently rubbing his hand in circles on your back. And his faint smell of cologne luring you to sleep.

Hey! Sorry if this is on the shorter side, but I tried packing as much emotion as I could into it to make up. I hope you enjoyed this, cause I added a few of my little issues into it so I hope you don’t mind. (Also along with some people ik) I really hope it gets better for you, hopefully by now even though this came out late (sorry really busy this month for some reason🧍) if you need anyone to talk to I’m always open to hear❤️..

[tamatojam]

An Analysis of some of the weird stuff from Wilbur and Tommy’s Afterlife Conversation

Let’s first review what we were told in the 4 minutes that they spoke:

Okay right off the bat something is strange. Tommy says “Am I... Am I dead?”

Now this is odd because later in the conversation we learn that Tommy’s been in the void for a while. Why would he ask this question now, after already being there for over “two months”?

Wilbur greets Tommy and Tommy sighs as if he’s annoyed by something. When Wilbur asks if he’s alright Tommy shoots back that he’s “better than ever” in a hostile voice.

Tommy then asks “How long is left?” And Wilbur goes to check. Tommy tells him to hurry up and Wilbur says to chill and that he doesn’t have it on hand, while a LOT of paper seems to get moved around in the background (so there’s way more info than what we was read out.)

Wilbur says “[How long] for the universe to end, right?”

Tommy says “No, I obviously didn’t-“ but cuts himself off and tells Wilbur to go on. They argue for a bit, then Wilbur says that there’s a couple eons until the universe ends.

But what did Tommy really want to know?

Tommy says “You like your facts, you’re always telling me your facts.”

Wilbur says “I’m answering your question-“

Tommy interupts and says “Because that’s what I meant by that question.” Very sarcastically.

We still DON’T get the info that Tommy was actually asking about.

Wilbur asks if Tommy wants to play Competitive Solitaire again. AGAIN. So they had been getting along okay enough to compete and have a card game at the very least.

Wilbur even says “because it’s fun and we have a good time?” when Tommy asks him why he wants to play again. (Tommy does mock him for it but still.)

Tommy says “You are so lonely.”

And Wilbur says “What do you mean? We have Schlatt and Mexican Dream.”

Notice how he said “we” and not “I”. He’s including Tommy.

Tommy also denies having Mexican Dream come over to talk with them.

(Wilbur also says Schlatt’s been asleep “3 months” but Tommy says later that Schlatt was making them count despite the fact that he was only dead for “2 months.”

Idk what this could mean but it feels worth mentioning)

Now Wilbur says “I’m really happy you’re here.” And calls back to the Disc Finale when he said a space was opening for Tommy. Tommy tells him to stop talking about it, but Wilbur continues to say “Me and you were never good for that server.”

Tommy hyperventilates a bit and Wilbur mentions it, but doesn’t seem to understand why it’s happening or what it means.

Wilbur says “I know for a fact that if I come back, or if I’m brought back to life in some way, it’s definitely gonna... go to shit again.”

Tommy immediately tells him to fuck off.

Wilbur then says that after a few more months of “work” they could build a solitaire arena.

Tommy tunes out and starts to complain, but then realizes Wilbur has stopped speaking, and calls out for him before finally waking up alive.

That’s where the conversation stopped, so here’s my analysis.

Why was Tommy asking if he was dead? What was his real question? How much does Wilbur really know?

What happened the rest of the 2 months in the afterlife that we didn’t see?

Personally I think that Tommy and Wilbur were expecting Tommy to be revived.

It seems like Tommy was checking if he was still dead, and upon hearing Wilbur’s voice was pissed to know that he wasn’t alive yet.

Tommy also asked “How long is left?”

Personally I think he was asking how long was left until he was revived. Wilbur seems like he has a lot of knowledge of time (hence the large amounts of paper.) He could possibly know the future timeline of the server.

It seems to me like Tommy and Wilbur have a plan, and were waiting for Tommy to get revived.

Wilbur and Tommy, despite apparently not liking each other, were talking a lot, playing card games multiple times, and actively excluding Mexican Dream from their conversation, despite Tommy getting along really well with MD. It wouldn’t be out of the question for them to have thought up a plan.

Wilbur seems pretty set on staying dead though, and maybe all his talk of being glad that they’re both in the afterlife was him trying to also convince Tommy that being dead wasn’t too bad. Tommy wasn’t having any of it though.

But either way, Wilbur has said many times that he DOESN’T want to come back.

So it’s interesting that Tommy begs Dream to not bring Wilbur back because apparently Wilbur has “horrible plans for when he’s revived.” But why have plans in the first place if he never intends on returning?

We also never hear any of these horrible plans, just Wilbur mentioning that things would “go to shit” if he came back. (But let’s be real, that’s pretty fucking vague to say when it comes to the Dream SMP plot. Things go to shit over a shovel getting stolen.)

NOT TO MENTION that Tommy doesn’t mention Dream wanting to revive Wilbur to ANYONE. Not many people like Wilbur or Dream, so why wouldn’t he warn them? But the closest Tommy got to mentioning it was with Jack, but then he stopped and said “No, you’d probably just get in the way.” ...Get in the way of WHAT, Tommy???

Tommy and Wilbur probably didn’t get along great, obviously, but there’s definitely way more to what they were talking about. I think there’s a plan we aren’t aware of yet, and we’re gonna have to wait to find out what it is along with the rest of the characters.

DISCLAIMER:

I am in deep denial and I’m well aware that there’s a 99.9999% chance that absolutely none of this is true

This was just for fun and bc I was bored and wanted to analyze something, so don’t take it too seriously :D Hope you enjoyed!