#the 'you see in black and white until you meet your soulmate and then you can see colors' variant

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

Hey Roddy. Do you take Chrobin prompts during Nanorimo? My brain is feeling a little wingfic, so. "Everyone has wings, but they aren't always out. Chrom asks Robin to unfurl hers after Southtown, and she has six." ...It's fine if you don't want to. I just, y'know. *Waves hands* Them.

Honestly, my NaNo performance this year is absolutely atrocious and I'm using it mostly as trying to get myself to get up and write again - which is to say I would write literally anything and count it for NaNo right now. Anyway I was casually chewing on this thought for like two days before I suddenly figured out an angle to come at it from that made me really want to write it...which ironically produces a story where the single scene you have pictured cannot happen.

----

Chrom has never met someone who doesn’t have wings; that doesn’t mean he’s never met someone whose wings he’s never seen. It’s polite to keep them folded out of the way so as to not bump into people in the streets or take up too much space in the barracks; it’s a fashion in Ylisstol to wear cloaks with hoods or cowls that obscure all but the largest wings into shapeless fabric. Of the Shepherds, Ricken in particular wears mages’ robes to hide the fluffy fledgling down that marks his age, and Sumia says that fabric over her wings keeps her mindful of what she’s doing with them and stops her from absentmindedly knocking them into things - most of the time, anyway.

So the stranger unconscious in the fields with no memory might be a notable oddity for all of the aforementioned reasons, the baggy hooded coat does not stand out as a peculiarity.

Her name is Robin. Like the birds.

-

The masked swordsman, Marth - swordswoman - whatever - has dark, glossy blue-feathered wings. She fights with them spread, like a goose flapping and screeching to drive away a threat. Like an eagle swooping low, coming in for the kill.

But when the assassins are dead and Emmeryn is safe, Chrom runs after the masked prophet to thank her, offer her anything in thanks, and he finds her with her wings folded to her back, small, like a sparrow, alone in the dark.

-

Taguel don’t have wings. This makes sense to Chrom, and the fact that Panne prominently displays her winglessness by not wearing any draped clothing across her back - or even much clothing at all, really - is still only one of her second or third most eye-catching traits.

-

Absolutely mortified as he is about walking in on Robin in the bath, and trying for both their sakes to put any sights he may have seen out of his memory forever, it takes until the next day, looking at her across a map as they discuss strategy, to realize something.

He is pretty damn sure that she didn’t have wings.

-

Manakete, unlike taguel, have wings in their human form. Manakete, unlike humans, have not a feather on their body; Nowi’s wings are leathery, like a bat, like a wyvern, like her dragon form.

-

Flying is difficult enough simply carrying the weight of one’s own body. Adding armor and weapons, even moreso. Wyverns and pegasi remain invaluable companions off and on the battlefield for such reason (even if Ylisse doesn’t have any corps of wyvern riders). A careful rider with a strong bond with their steed should only have to use their own wings to slow their fall if they are extremely unlucky. 

Phila and her knights are unlucky, and the Risen archers keep firing even as they fall. 

And Gangrel laughs. Gangrel stands holding a pike, upon which are impaled a pair of severed wings. Even from a distance, Chrom knows those tan speckled feathers. He’d know them even if, next to him, Lissa’s wings weren’t patterned the same. 

Emm falls. And Chrom flies, forgetting the archers, forgetting everything except the need to save her, but she falls faster than he can fly and arrows fly faster than he does. He barely notices the first two tearing through his wings, but by the third, Basilio is in the air with him pulling him back to earth. Robin clings to Lissa, holding her to the ground, holding her face against her shoulder, stopping her from following and from seeing. 

But Chrom gets a last glimpse of his older sister before Basilio drags him away. 

-

In Ferox they plan; their rescue failed, but they will not fail to topple Gangrel from his throne. Chrom has the faith of his Shepherds, the might and support of the khans, and Robin’s tactical guidance. He has Emmeryn’s dream for peace.

But they do not march for Plegia yet. And when Chrom closes his eyes he has the memory of Emm’s body lying broken on the sand and stone and the bloody stumps of her dismembered wings protruding from her back.

Sleep is hard to come by.

He finds Robin still in the war room, pouring over maps and markers. “Didn’t Flavia and Basilio say that we would start determining the specifics of our strategy in the morning?” he asks, even though he suspects that in the dark and in the silence, Robin hears Lissa’s scream the way Chrom watches Emm fall. 

Robin starts at the sound of his voice and she reaches immediately for her coat, draped over one of the chairs instead of her shoulders. Then she looks back up at him and when their eyes meet, Chrom thinks of the promise that she made to him, that she would stand at his side and help him be worthy of Emmeryn’s legacy. Her fist slowly unclenches from the fabric and her hand moves back to the markers on the table, but her eyes linger on Chrom’s for a little longer. “I need to have at least some idea of strategies to suggest,” she says, turning her attention back to the map. 

Without her coat, when she leans across the table to grab a book from the other side, her lack of wings is obvious. Her shirt, cut low in the front and back, exposes her shoulders and some of her back; he can’t help but notice the lack of even the stubs of wings amputated, or even any scars that could indicate a complete removal.

“You can say something, if you like,” she says, paging through her book. Her words could indicate a challenge she intends to bite back on - he remembers that unfortunate conversation about whether or not she could be termed a “lady” - but now, lately, with all of this weight they carry, he doubts it. 

“You probably don’t even remember, do you?” he asks. 

“I don’t,” she affirms, and that is the end of their discussion of that matter.

-

The dust settles over the scent of sweat and sand and singed feathers. Chrom steps on a reddish-brown plume that might have fallen from Gangrel’s wings. Robin stands at the crest of a hill, looking up at the carrion birds circling over the battlefield, ready to alight upon the corpses and add their feathers to the mix. Her expression is one he’s not seen worn on her face before and it’s hard to place. Wistful?

Chrom has a lot that he wants to say to her, but the first words out of his mouth, with a flap of his still-bandaged left wing, is, “Once I’m healed, I can take you to see Ylisse from up there.”

“I think I’d like that,” she says.

-

Most children are born without even a bump of what will develop into their wings. They usually start to emerge at the same time as a baby’s first teeth.

Robin wonders if her daughter will inherit her condition. 

She wonders if she will know by the time she comes back from war.

-

Validar, the new king of Plegia, looks identical to the leader of the assassins who attacked Emmeryn in Ylisstol. 

The hierophant of the Grimleal looks almost identical to Robin but for her wings; three on each side, long and thin with feathers of such a rich black that they appear purple in the light. 

-

Little lady Marth has a sword identical to Chrom’s and a Brand in her eye identical to that of baby Lucina’s. Little lady Marth is Lucina, no longer a baby, from a time yet to be, and the story belies belief but is too outrageous to possibly be false. The beautiful warrior who stands before her is Robin and Chrom’s daughter, and how could she be anyone else, when she looks so much like her father, her hair, her eyes, her wings with blue feathers darker than Chrom’s, almost black in the moonlight. Robin smooths down a few of her rumpled feathers.  

“I’ve been wondering if you would have them,” Robin murmurs, “or if you would be like me. I’ve wondered if it might be hard for you.”

“You have?” Lucina asks. “I would have been okay, because you were okay, and you’re my mother.” She blinks fiercely and presses the back of her hand to her mouth. “Mother… you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

-

Without heavy weapons or armor, mages would, in theory, be better suited to flying under their own power during combat. Like a divine storm of lashing winds, raging flames, and crackling lightning from above - but archers are an even greater threat to unarmored mages than they are to armored pegasus and rider. And magic, Lucina has been informed by Laurent, takes a great deal of concentration and conscious thought; add to that the focus required to remain airborne and steady enough to properly aim a spell, and the exposed position it puts oneself in, and the disadvantages outweigh the advantages. Cynthia agreed, saying that she would only be carting a tome around in the air if her pegasus was carrying her; Morgan attempted to train himself as a “flying tactician-magician” for two days, during which he shot nearly all of their companions with lightning. He acquiesced that it was indeed incredibly hard to aim while flying.

Gods, Lucina misses them all so much. She thinks of them as she tries to comb dirt and ashes out of her wings. They took care of each other, the way she sees their parents do now; anyone who needs help preening their wings will find it. Even from Nowi or Panne. Even for Henry, who only so recently fell in with the Shepherds. Just as even Severa and Gerome relented quickly to assistance. They took care of each other.

The memory of their companionship hurts worse now that she is no longer alone.

“Do you need help, sweetheart?” Robin asks, and Lucina, contorted as she is trying to reach the base of her wings, nods. 

“I wasn’t sure when you learned how to care for wings,” Lucina admits once her mother has seated herself behind her. “If it was before or after mine came in.”

Robin hums. After a few minutes she asks, “Do you know if I ever knew the reason why I don’t have wings?”

Lucina shakes her head, then says, “Not that I knew. I asked you when I was young and you just said that people are all different; some have Brands and some have wings and some don’t, just like some people are dragons and some are rabbits.”

“That sounds like I didn’t know why,” Robin says.

“Or maybe I was too young for the real answer,” Lucina says. “I was still rather young when…”

She doesn’t want to finish the thought, but she knows her mother knows how that sentence ends, regardless.

-

Morgan has black-feathered wings. He runs to hug Robin when he sees her, but with his arms around her shoulders he freezes for a moment before he fully leans into the embrace. Like for an instant he was confused. Like something he expected wasn’t there.

-

When Validar orders Robin to seize the Fire Emblem from Chrom and give it to him, she does so; her body acts against her mind as a splitting pain fills her head and sears across her back. Even after regaining control of herself, the pain persists, through their flight from the castle back to the safety of their army.

And that pain is still nothing compared to the horror of what she has done, and the thought of what else she could be ordered to do.

-

The sunset bleeds orange over the Plegian fields. At the outskirts of their camp, Lucina watches Robin shake off her coat to find, sprouting from between her shoulder blades, six wings. 

“Mother?” Lucina asks. “Could I have a word?”

Robin turns. Her eyes are wet with pain but she pulls a smile onto her face for her daughter. “Of course.”

Her purple-black fathers are matted with blood, wet and scraggly the way a chick comes out of the egg. But even now, Lucina knows those wings. She saw them on a monster looming over her kingdom as it burned it to the ground.

It is easier to raise her sword when she sees such a plain sign of the Fell Dragon whose vessel Robin will become. She knows what she has to do. 

Her resolve is still not strong enough. 

-

The hierophant, Grima, does not set her feet upon the ground. She hangs in the air with the lazy flap of her wings; it seems as natural to her as breathing. 

Robin has never left the ground under her own power. 

“You refuse my gifts at every turn,” Grima says. “Grounded by your own will, when you could choose godhood. But if you won’t claim your birthright, I will take what has been laid out for you instead.”

They are the same, Robin and Grima, the tactician and the hierophant, and the wings on their backs cast the same shadows as the Fell Dragon’s do on the ground far below.

-

They are the same, and that is the key to the Fell Dragon’s undoing.

Robin dissolves into the air, and Grima’s bones sink into the ground.

-

Chrom finds her again, no longer a stranger, unconscious in the fields, with no brand on her hand and no wings on her back.

[d1stalker]

All of You, All of Me [Logan Howlett]

Summary: In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.

Warnings: au where everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate, fem!reader, slow burn, angst, running away from feelings, pining, grovelinggg WC: 14.2k - MASTERLIST - A/N: help i'm sorry i didn't mean for it to get this long, but this fic is my baby

----

You've always cherished the idea of having a soulmate—someone who would love you unconditionally, waiting just for you as you them. The thought of finding that perfect match, the one who complements you in every way, is something you’ve always dreamed of. 

But as you get older, the hope you carry seems to dwindle more and more each year. Everyone around you has found their other half, reveling in the newfound ability to see colours in all their glory, and soaking up every moment of shared affection.

Everyone, except for you.

Your world remains a stark, colourless void, as if the universe is deliberately withholding the one thing you desire most.

And to make matters worse, despite not finding your soulmate, you are unequivocally, irrevocably in love with someone who has.

Logan Howlett.

You can’t remember a time where you didn’t feel anything toward him. His rugged, lone-wolf demeanor snuck its way deep into the crevices of your heart, and made itself a home there.

You and him formed an unlikely friendship, formed through the desire to fight back against all the people who’ve wronged mutants. Over the years, you had accepted the fact that while he wasn’t yours, at least you were alone together. Well, until she came.

Jean Grey.

She was strong, charming, and everything you felt you weren’t. It was no wonder her and Logan were meant to be together—the stoic, brooding mutant and his graceful, strong-willed counterpart. 

You remember the day it happened so vividly, it’s almost like you were the one who found their life partner. You and him had been walking around the mansion, when Charles had called you into his office to meet someone new. One look at their faces when they made eye contact and you knew you’d lost him.

It pained you to see them all over each other, all the time. Your once-regular walks in the garden became rare, then vanished entirely. On missions, he no longer looked out for you; his attention was consumed by protecting her. And as much as it hurt, you couldn’t deny they seemed perfect for each other—just as soulmates should be. You had no right to feel jealous.

Then, just as quickly as she had entered his life, she left it. 

The Pheonix was too strong, ripping her apart from the inside out. The pained scream he let out as not only his heart died, but as the world around him faded back into black and white, was forever ingrained into your memory. 

Logan was never the same after that.

 —

You trudge down the familiar halls of the mansion, your feet heavy with the weight of the day. It’s been long, filled with training sessions, team meetings, and a lot of paperwork. All you want to do is retreat to your room, lose yourself in a book, or maybe just sleep until the ache in your chest dulls.

As you walk, you hear faint commotion down the hallway—a low murmur of voices and the occasional clatter of something being moved. But you pay it no mind, too lost in your thoughts to care. Another mission, another discussion, another moment where you aren’t needed. It’s all so routine now.

Lost in your reverie, you don’t notice the figure walking toward you until it’s too late. You collide with a solid chest, the impact jolting you back to reality.

“Oh, sorry—” you begin, stepping back, but the words die on your lips as you look up.

It’s Logan.

Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, shock rippling through your body as you process his presence. And for a moment, neither of you speak. You just stand there, taking him in—the man who was once your closest friend, the man who was torn apart by grief and loss. His clothes are rumpled, his skin rougher than you remember, like he’s been through hell and back. 

You hadn’t seem him in a long time. After the devastation, he stopped talking to everyone. He holed himself up in his room for days at a time, only coming out in the dead of night to eat. Either that, or he was away on a mission–anything to stay distracted. 

But now, looking at him, there’s something different off. Something you can’t quite place your finger on. Did he always look like that? Maybe it’s the way the light above is reflecting off of him. Or maybe it’s—oh.

Looking around in surprise, you watch as the usually dark, stoic walls explode into a deep, rich shade. The carpet below you—no longer a mural of grey—radiates colors you can’t name. Your hands, his eyes, his hair-

You want to open your mouth and say something, anything, to the man who has caused your world to shift on its axis, but he’s already turned, walking away from you.

“Give me a fuckin’ break.”

----

Brown. Logan’s hair is brown.

After Logan leaves you paralyzed in the hallway, you run to your room, find the book on colors you had stashed in your bedside table, and throw open the cover. In it is a diagram that displays every known colour and their names. You learn that your favorite pair of pants are maroon, your bedsheets are navy green, and the X-Men suits are bright yellow and blue.

You stare at the page, each word blurring as your mind tries to process the impossible. Logan’s hair is brown. The thought keeps repeating in your head like a mantra, over and over again, until it becomes a steady thrum, drowning out everything else.

Brown.

You sit back on your bed, letting the book slip from your hands, the pages crumpling as it hits the floor.

Why him? Why me? Why now?

You begin to fidget, the adrenaline of the prior moment causing your heart to flail in your chest like crazy. You can’t stay here, you think to yourself. The idea of locked in your room with only your thoughts for company does not sound appealing. You need air, something to ground you, something to clear the haze clouding your head. Without thinking, you jump out of bed and find yourself heading up to the roof, the one place where you can breathe without feeling like the walls of the mansion closing in on you.

The trip up the stairs feels longer than ever before, each step heavy under the weight of your mind. It’s like every thought adds ten pounds. When you open the door, the cool night air hits you like a welcomed slap to the face, and you exhale deeply.

Walking to the edge, you lean against the railing. You’re in a daze - wondering if you made up the entire thing in your head. The only proof that you haven't, and that Logan being your soulmate is real, is the colours that coat the mansion’s grounds. The moonlight bathes everything in what you now know as a soft, silver glow, and for a moment, you just stand there, looking out into the distance.

It doesn’t make sense, and the more you try to wrap your head around it, the more tangled your thoughts become. You don’t want to face the possibility of what it could mean, but you can’t just brush it aside either. It has quite literally changed your entire life. 

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to quiet your racing mind. But when you open them again, you freeze.

Logan is standing at the other end of the roof, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the sky. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and for a split second, you consider turning back, retreating before he sees you. It would be a wise idea - he didn’t want to talk to you then, and he probably doesn’t want to talk to you now. But, it an act that can only be seen as your own body betraying you, you take a step forward. 

The sudden movement catches his attention, and his head snaps in your direction, his eyes locking onto yours. 

“Why are you here?” he asks accusingly.

You hesitate, unsure of how to answer. Seeing him out here was the last thing you had expected, and now that he’s in front of you, you are at a loss of words.

Logan’s eyes narrow, and he pushes off the wall, walking toward you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I needed air,” you manage to say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just needed to clear my head.”

“Well, find somewhere else to do it,” he snaps, “I don’t want company.”

“Logan, I—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, not even bothering to hear you out. “Don’t start. I know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

You blink, taken aback, and hurt at his coldness. “What are you talking about?”

He lets out a low, humourless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? God, I… this is all so fucking stupid.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel a flush of embarrassment rise to your cheeks. “I wasn’t—”

“Enough!” he barks, his voice echoing in the night. “I’m not interested, alright? Whatever it is you think is happening between us, it’s not real. It’s just some stupid trick of the universe, and I’m not playing along.”

His words hit you like a physical blow - like you’ve just been shot at right in the heart - and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. “I don’t understand. I didn’t mean for any of this—”

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” he snaps at you, “And I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like there’s something here,” he gestures between you two, “when there isn’t. You’re not mine, and I’m sure as hell not yours.”

The finality in his tone leaves you breathless, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. You have nothing to say back, he’s not giving you any slack. The reality of his rejection sinks in with a brutal, crushing weight, you have to put in effort to not stumble over. 

After a long moment, you finally collect yourself. Then, “Okay,” you whisper. “I understand.”

Logan’s expression doesn’t soften; if anything, it grows colder, more distant.

“Good. Then stay away from me.”

You nod, eyes filling with tears. You quickly turn your face away, not wanting him to see just how much he’s hurt you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make things worse for you.”

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even acknowledge your apology. He just turns away, his back to you, effectively shutting you out.

You stand there for a long moment, watching him walk away for the second time that night. The colours that seemed so vibrant, so full of life just a moment ago, now feel like a cruel reminder of everything you could never have.

—

When you eventually return to your room, all you can do is lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling as your encounter with Logan on the roof replays in your mind on an endless loop, each harsh word he’d thrown at you cutting deeper than the last. It’s causes pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, pain that seems to have no end, no respite.

If he doesn’t want you in his life, you’ll accept that. You have to - it’s not like you have a choice. Soulmates are a two-way street.  

You can’t force him to feel something he doesn’t, can’t make him see you in a way he clearly never will. And you understand, don’t you? You can’t even imagine how difficult this would be for him. Losing your soulmate, and then the universe saying Fuck You and giving you another? 

You’ll never ever forget how wrecked he was when Jean died. How her death shattered him into pieces so small you weren’t–no–you’re still not sure he’ll ever be whole again. 

And you—where do you stand in the grand scheme of things? Just as the unfortunate recipient of a bond that neither of you asked for? Are you even allowed to be upset about this?

—

Waking up the next morning, you honestly wish you hadn’t. You knew you weren’t on good terms with Logan after his little rooftop showcase of emotions, but nothing could have prepared you for the way he starts to treat you.

His face is stuck in a perpetual scowl when you’re in his vicinity. He’s leaving every room the moment you enter, refusing to look at you, speak to you, or acknowledge your presence in any way. It’s as if you’ve become invisible, a ghost haunting the same halls you once shared with him. There’s only one thing you two seem to wordlessly agree on: don’t tell anyone. 

Each day following becomes a struggle, an unbearable test of your strength as you try to make it through without breaking. You begin to avoid Logan as much as he avoids you, but the mansion is only so big, and there are always moments when you catch sight of him in the distance, his broad shoulders hunched, his brooding face glaring daggers in your direction. 

It hurts you every time, an unending torture that leaves you stumbling. Still, you bite your tongue and keep moving, pretending you don’t care.

But you do care. You care more than you want to admit, more than you think is possible. Because despite everything—despite the rejection, the coldness, the anger—you still love him. 

And that’s the cruelest twist of all.

So you endure it, day after day, week after week, month after month. Letting it tear you apart piece by piece, because what else can you do? You carry this burden alone, just as you’ve carried your feelings for him all these years. And maybe one day, the pain will fade, the bond will weaken, and you’ll be able to move on.

—

The only person you tell is Charles.

“What’s on your mind, my child?” he asks one day, while you’re sweeping the dust in his office. 

You hesitate, your gaze dropping to your hands as you focus on cleaning. You know he’s just asking out of courtesy, and that he could easily crawl into your mind and figure it out himself. He probably wouldn’t even need to put in that much effort, given how loud your thoughts are. But still, you don’t yield to his probing.

“Nothing, really,” you mutter, forcing a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just… tired, I guess.”

Charles watches you carefully, his eyes full of the warmth and compassion he always has, but this time, it makes you feel uncomfortable. Like he can see right through the facade you’re trying so hard to maintain, which you have no doubt, he does. 

“I’m here to help, whatever the burden.”

You want to groan. It’s not like he’s doing it on purpose but damn does it feel like he’s trying to guilt you into confessing that you just recently had your heart shattered. 

“I know, Professor. But… it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“You forget, I worry about all of you,” he replies gently. “It’s in my nature.”

The chuckle that crawls out your throat is nothing short of bitter. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t mean you have to face it alone.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep the emotions at bay. Do you really want to explain to him the insurmountable suffering you’re in, the rejection you faced from the one person who is supposed to be your soulmate? How can you tell him that the bond the universe forged is the very thing tearing you apart?

“It’s just… I don’t know how to make sense of it, Professor,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything’s so… wrong.”

He leans forward slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “Wrong how?”

Knowing that you’re teetering into confession territory, you hesitate, needing time to collect your thoughts. 

“Logan… he… we… It’s not supposed to be like this, is it?” you eventually get out. Not your best work, but you know he’d get the gist. 

Understanding dawns in Charles’s eyes, and you can see the sympathy there, the quiet acceptance of the truth you’re struggling to voice. “The bond you share… it’s more than you expected, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling the tears well up again. “But he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want me.”

The professor sighs softly, and he looks at you like you’re a lost puppy. “Logan has been through so much, more than most could bear. His heart has been wounded in ways that are difficult to heal, and it’s not surprising that he would resist this new connection.”

“So why me?” you ask. “Why bind me to someone who will never love me?”

Leaning back in his chair, his fingers steepled thoughtfully, he says, “I wish I had an answer for you, my dear. The universe works in mysterious ways, ways that often defy our understanding. But I do know this: the bond you share is there for a reason. Whether it’s meant to bring you closer or to teach you something important… that remains to be seen.”

“It feels like a punishment,” you whisper, the tears finally spilling over. As much as you hate being put on the hot seat, you can admit that it feels good talking to someone about it.  “Every day, it hurts more. And he won’t even look at me. I don’t know how to make it stop.”

“The heartache you’re feeling is profound, but you must understand that it’s not your fault. Logan’s reaction isn’t a reflection of your worth, but of his own pain and fear.”

He reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your own before continuing.

“To love, even when it’s not returned, takes incredible courage. But you must also take care of yourself. Give Logan the space he needs, and in the meantime, allow yourself the grace to heal.”

So you do. In the days that follow your conversation with Charles, you make a promise to yourself—to try, really try, to focus on your own life, to reclaim the parts of yourself that have been overshadowed by the pain of this unrequited love.

The colours are still there, vivid and vibrant, and though they sometimes feel like a bittersweet reminder of what could never be, you find moments where they bring you joy. You marvel at the deep blue of the sky, the rich greens of the trees, the way the sunlight filters through the leaves and paints the world in golden hues. It’s like seeing the world anew, and in those moments, you allow yourself to feel happiness.

Moreover, you busy yourself, volunteering for every assignment that comes your way. The adrenaline, the focus, the purpose—they all help to drown out the pain, even if only temporarily. And when you return from each mission, tired but satisfied, you feel a little more like yourself again.

The mansion, too, becomes less of a prison and more of a home once more. You start spending more time with the others, rejoining them for meals, for training sessions, for movie nights. 

You laugh with Rogue, spar with Scott, and even find yourself engaging in playful banter with Remy. It’s not perfect, and there are still moments where you catch yourself faltering, when the weight of everything threatens to pull you under, but those moments are becoming fewer and farther between.

You’re healing, slowly but surely, and with each passing day, you feel a little stronger, a little more in control of your life—of your emotions. 

But then there are the times when you cross paths with Logan, and those moments are the hardest.

One evening, after returning from a particularly grueling mission, you find yourself heading toward the kitchen, your mind on the sandwich you plan to make. The place is quiet, most of the team out on various assignments, or finishing up on some work, and you relish the peace as you walk down the corridor.

However, just as you reach the kitchen door and push it open, you find Logan standing there, preparing to exit the room at the exact same moment. Your heart lurches, and you stop dead in your tracks, almost like a deer caught in headlights. 

His gaze meets yours, and all you can see is his impassive, stoic expression. He steps back, giving you space to enter, but the tension between you is palpable.

“Sorry,” you mumble, stepping to the side, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

Logan doesn’t say anything, barely nodding—if you could even it that— before brushing past you, his shoulder grazing yours. The brief contact sends a jolt through your system, and you have to force yourself to stay still and not physically react. 

Once he leaves, you let out a shaky breath, your heart still racing from the encounter. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him—so long since you’ve seen the deep brown of his hair that you love so much. You hate this. 

Why does he have no reaction to at all? Why is it only you who seems to care? 

Because you are the only one who does care.

You move into the kitchen, still intent on eating, but it’s a challenge. Your hands are trembling.

—

It all comes to a head one night during dinner. In this rare occasion, both you and Logan are in the same room. You’re supposed to be celebrating Rogue and Gambit’s anniversary, and even though you insisted that they share this special moment together alone, they didn’t take no for an answer. 

That’s how you find yourself, sitting at the grand dining table with all your friends, and Logan. 

He’s across from you. Just your luck.

He refuses to spare you a single glance, his eyes staying busy the whole night. And while it’s been months and months of this, you have never gotten used to it. Still, you can’t help but sneak a few looks at that chocolate-coloured hair. Brown. 

Everything seems to be going smoothly, the food is delicious and the dessert even better, but when Gambit presents Rogue with a giant painting, that’s when you slip up. 

“I love how you blended the red with the blue!” You compliment, loving the way he managed to create the perfect contrast between shades. You’re too caught up in staring at the artwork to realize the table as gone deathly quiet, all eyes on you.

Rogue's expression is one of gentle confusion, her head tilted slightly as she tries to make sense of your words. “Darling, I thought you couldn’t see colour?”

In any other situation, you’re sure the team would have laughed at how comically large your eyes got, and how all the blood draining from your face makes you look like a gaping fish, but in this moment, nothing is funny. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, and when you finally muster the courage to glance at him, you see that his all-too familiar glare you’ve been subject to for the last half-year. It makes your heart thud painfully in your chest

“I…” you begin, but you falter. Your mind is going through a thousand thoughts per minute, searching for an excuse you can use to deflect, to pretend it was just a mistake, but the silence is too heavy, too demanding.

Rogue’s confusion deepens, her gaze flickering between you and Logan, who is now staring at you with an expression that’s impossible to read. She starts to say something, but Remy gently places a hand on her arm, shaking his head slightly as if to tell her to let you speak. 

Logan’s gaze stays locked on you for a moment longer. Then, without a word, he pushes his chair back, the legs scraping harshly against the floor. The sound echoes in the silence, and before you can react, he stands up and walks out of the room, his movements stiff, almost mechanical.

The door closes behind him with a quiet click, and the tension in the room thickens. You feel a rush of embarrassment flood through you, your heart sinking as the reality of what just happened crashes over you. 

You lower your head, your eyes stinging with tears that you fight desperately to hold back. But it’s no use. The emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried for so long bubble to the surface, and before you can stop yourself, the tears start to fall. 

“I think I need a moment,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling as you stand up from the table. Without waiting for a response, you hastily excuse yourself and head for the door, not before mumbling a quick apology to the couple in which you were there for.

Soon you find yourself outside in the gardens, the nightly breeze hitting your face as you make your way to a secluded bench. You can’t even appreciate the beauty in what you see, because all you feel is the overwhelming sense of failure and sadness that threatens to swallow you whole.

Sitting down heavily on the bench, you bury your face in your hands and let go. The sobs come hard and fast, each one ripping through you with a force that leaves you breathless. You’re heartbroken and angry and absolutely over it, but at the same time you feel like a massive asshole because who are you to be upset with a man who’s mourning the loss of a soulmate? 

It’s not fair.

You don’t know how long you sit there, lost in your grief, but eventually, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. You look up, wiping at your eyes, and see Scott walking toward you.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks gently.

You shake your head, unable to find your voice, and Scott sits down beside you on the bench. 

“I’m sorry,” you croak, “I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

Scott clicks his tongue in disagreement, his gaze focused on the gardens ahead. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s clear you’ve been carrying this burden for a long time. It’s no wonder it slipped out tonight.”

“So everyone knows now?” you ask. He nods.

“It wasn’t hard to put two and two together,” he concludes, and you groan, bringing your hands to your face.

“I just… I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want to be pitied.”

“Pity isn’t what anyone feels right now,” Scott says softly. “We’re worried about you. You’ve been hurting, and we didn’t see it. That’s on us.”

“It’s not your fault,” you bring your hands down from your face. “I’ve been trying to deal with it on my own. I thought I could handle it, but… clearly I was wrong”

With a serious expression, Scott turns to look at you. “I know what you’re going through, more than you might realize.”

You glance at him, surprised by his words. “You do?”

He nods, a sad smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was in love with Jean, remember? When her and Logan found out they were soulmates… it tore me apart. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to move on, and for a long time, I couldn’t.”

The mention of Jean’s name brings a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, but there’s also a strange comfort in knowing that Scott understands your pain. “How did you… how did you get through it?”

He sighs, “It wasn’t easy. It took a long time, and I had to accept it.”

You wipe at your eyes again, sniffling as you try to compose yourself. “I’ve been thinking about leaving for a while. Taking a longer mission, just to get away for a bit. Maybe then I can figure out how to move on.”

He is quiet for a moment, considering your words. “If that’s what you need to do, I understand,” he says, “sometimes, a change of scenery can help. Though I think you should try to talk to Logan again.”

Letting out a bitter laugh, you shake your head. “I don’t know if he’ll even listen to me. He’s made it pretty clear how he feels.”

“He’s hurting too,” He decides, “He’s not handling it well, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. You both need closure, and running away won’t give you that.”

“What if it just makes things worse?”

“It might.” Scott places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “But it might also give you both the chance to start healing. You deserve that chance.”

You nod slowly, letting the weight of his words sink in. “I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

“Take the time you need,” he says. “We’re all here for you.”

“Thanks, Scott. That means a lot.” You offer him a small, grateful smile.

With a final nod, he turns and walks back toward the mansion, leaving you once again alone in the quiet of the gardens. You take a deep breath, the idea of leaving still tugs at you, but now, there’s also the thought of confronting Logan—of finding some kind of closure, whatever that might mean.

You really don’t want to do it, and you’re pretty sure it’s just going to end the same way it did last time - with him shutting you out. But Scott’s words echo in your mind, reminding you that healing often requires confrontation, not avoidance.

Goddamn it.

You huff as you stand up from where you’re seated. You can’t keep running from this, can’t keep letting him run from this. You need to talk to Logan, to lay everything out on the table, even if it tears you apart in the process.

Your anxiety builds with each step as you approach his room, and you pause outside his door, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he could hear it if he was listening. This is it. There’s no turning back now. With a shaky breath, you finally raise your hand and knock. 

There’s a long, agonizing pause, making you strain to hear any movement on the other side. For a second, the silence causes you think he might not answer, that he might just ignore you like he’s done so many times before. But then, you hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching the door. Your heart catches in your throat as it slowly opens, revealing Logan standing there, his expression hard and unreadable.

The moment he realizes it’s you, his eyes darken, and he immediately moves to close the door, shutting you out yet again. However, you’re not letting him get away that easily. Before the door can fully close, you stick your foot out, blocking it with more force than you intended.

“C’mon, Logan,” you press. “You know we need to talk.”

He freezes, his grip on the door tightening until his knuckles turn white. His jaw clenches and unclenches, nostrils flaring. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he can will you away if he tries hard enough. But he doesn’t push the door shut either. The room is thick with suspense, both of you standing there in a silent standoff.

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, Logan steps back, opening the door just a smidge wider, barely enough for you to squeeze through. It’s a reluctant invitation, but it’s all you need.

“Fine,” he mutters, his voice rough, edged with irritation. “Talk.”

You step into the room, and he closes the door behind you, lingering close to it, as if he’s ready to bolt at any second. You feel vulnerable and exposed. It’s suddenly hard to gather your thoughts when he’s standing so close, when the heat of his presence and the distance he’s placed between is right in your face.

“Why did you come?” Logan questions. He still refuses to look directly at you, his gaze fixed somewhere over your shoulder.

“Because we can’t keep pretending this isn’t happening,” you reply, “We need to talk about what’s going on between us.”

His jaw tightens further, and his teeth grind with barely contained frustration. He finally looks at you, his eyes hard and defensive. “There’s nothing to say,” he says bitterly. “I told you how I feel. I thought that was enough.”

“It’s not enough!” you shoot back, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. “You think you can just push me away, pretend like this bond doesn’t exist, and that’s supposed to solve everything? It doesn’t work like that, Logan.”

He flinches slightly at your words, but his keeps his expression hard. “Well what do you want me to say?” he demands, his voice rising. “That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean to hurt you? Because I am, and I didn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t be what you want me to be.”

His words hurt. 

“I know you told me how you feel,” you start, “but you’ve never let me tell you how I feel. You’ve never given me the chance to say that it’s been tearing me apart.”

A flash of guilt. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think you needed to say it. I already knew.”

“That isn’t fair,” you argue.

“You don’t understand,” he counters, “I lost Jean. I loved her, and when she died, it broke something in me. And now… now I’m supposed to just… move on? With you? It’s not that simple.”

“I never asked you to love me, Logan,” you say, your voice trembling with the intensity of your emotions. “I never pushed for anything more than friendship—it’s not like you gave me the chance! You’ve been shutting me out, ignoring me, making me feel like I’m nothing more than a burden, like I don’t even matter!”

You can see that the pain in your voice hitting him hard, but he doesn’t apologize. Instead, he looks away, his expression conflicted. “I’m trying to protect you,” he mutters, the words sounding hollow even to him

“Protect me?” you echo incredulously. “All you’re doing is make me feel like shit. Like I’m worthless. I can’t even be your friend, to help you through this.”

You pause. “You expect us all to know how you’re feeling, but you can’t even communicate it.”

Logan winces, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, filled with a torment you’ve never seen before. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words seem to get caught in his throat. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I can’t be what you want me to be,” he admits, his tone filled with a deep, aching sadness. “I don’t know how to let you in. Without her, I feel like… I can’t let anyone in.”

Your eyes soften a fraction his confession, but there’s also a deep frustration that burns inside you, a frustration born of months of pain and rejection. 

“You haven’t even tried,” you say softly with a quiet resignation, “You haven’t even tried to let me in, to see what we could have been, even if it was just as friends.”

What follows is a long, nagging silence. You let it linger, giving Logan the chance he needs to think of something to say. But there’s no answer, no promise that things will change, and then you realize, with a sinking feeling, that he’s not going to take that step, too broken to try.

That’s when it really hits you. 

Whatever you were fighting for, was a losing battle from the start. 

You give up.

This time, it is you who turns your back on him. 

“Goodbye, Logan. Take care of yourself.”

You don’t wait for a response. You don’t glance back. You walk out of the room, the door closing softly behind you, and with it, the last remnants of hope you had for something more.

— 

You decide to go on the mission.

It’s nothing complicated. Your task is to survey different regions of Europe, ensuring that there are no burgeoning anti-mutant operations threatening the safety of anyone. The primary goal is gathering information, and quiet observation. No violence, Charles told you in the debrief. 

The lack of immediate danger doesn’t make leaving any easier, though. This is as much about finding yourself as it is about fulfilling your duty.

Rogue and Kitty are with you during your final preparations, helping you pack the essentials and offering support in their own ways. They don’t ask many questions, probably sensing that this decision was not just made on a whim. And for that, you’re grateful.

“I still think you’re crazy for going solo,” Rogue says with a half-smile as she zips up your bag. “But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

You manage a small smile in return. “Thanks, Rogue. I just need some time…”

Kitty, who’s been quietly folding clothes and tucking them into your bag, looks up, seriousness clouding her gaze.  “We get it. Just promise you’ll keep in touch, okay? And don’t hesitate to call if you need backup.”

“I promise,” you assure.

She hesitates for a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small device—the X-Men communicator gadget. She holds it out to you, and you reach your hand out. 

“Here,” she says softly, pressing the device into your hand. “This is so you can update us on your whereabouts, your status, or any important mission details. Even if you don’t need anything, just… let us know you’re okay, alright?”

You look down at the communicator in your hand, and close your fingers around it, nodding as you meet Kitty’s gaze. 

“Alright, I’ll check in regularly. I won’t leave you guys in the dark.”

Rogue finishes the last bit of organization. “You’ve got this,” she says, “And we’ve got your back, even from a distance.” You nod, appreciating their support more than you can express. 

It almost feels like a walk of shame—leaving the mansion. Everyone knows why too, and that makes it a thousand times worse. But you won’t let it get to you. With one last look, you get in your car and begin on the windy path to the airport. 

—

When you arrive in Europe, the first thing that strikes you is the sheer beauty of the landscape. Each city, each town, has its own unique charm, its own story to tell. The bustling uphill streets of Porto, the serene canals of Venice, the ancient ruins of Athens—they all offer a distraction from the turmoil inside you.

The only good part about this whole mess is that you can see colour, and truly appreciate the sights before you.

You move from one place to the next, blending in with the crowds, quietly observing, gathering information, and sending brief updates to the team through the communicator Kitty gave you. Every message is short, to the point, just enough to let them know you’re safe and on track. You don’t share much beyond the essentials, not wanting to burden them with your personal struggles.

Then, in a small café in Rome, you meet a man named Marco. He’s a traveler like you, exploring Europe with a curiosity that matches your own. He’s warm, easygoing, and before long, the two of you strike up a conversation over coffee.

He is charming in a way that makes you feel at ease, his laughter infectious as he shares stories of his travels. You don’t tell him much about yourself, keeping the details of your mission and your mutant abilities hidden. To him, you’re just another traveler, searching for something—though he doesn’t pry into what that something is.

As the days pass, you and Marco continue to cross paths, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to, someone who doesn’t know about your past, about the things you’re running from. With him, you can be anyone, and for the first time in a long while, you start to feel a little lighter. You find yourself laughing more, the weight on your chest lifting a little each day. You don’t talk about the mission, and you certainly don’t talk about Logan.

One evening, as you’re both sitting on the steps of the Spanish Steps in Rome, watching the sunset, he turns to you with a grin. “So, where are you off to next?”

You hesitate, not wanting to reveal too much, but then you smile. “I’m heading to Florence. There are some places I need to check out.”

His eyes light up. “Florence? I’ve been meaning to re-visit. Mind if I tag along?”

A part of you wants to say no, to keep the distance you’ve carefully maintained, but another part—the part that’s been lonely for so long—nods in agreement. “Sure, why not?”

—

Back at the mansion, things haven’t been as positive. The once lively atmosphere has dimmed, replaced by an uneasy tension that lingers in the halls. The X-Men carry on with their duties, but there’s a noticeable shift—a missing piece that everyone feels but no one talks about. Logan, in particular, has become even more withdrawn, if that’s possible. The man who was once brooding and distant now seems even more so, his mood volatile and unpredictable.

His behavior has become a source of concern for the team. He’s always been rough around the edges, but now, it’s like the slightest thing can set him off. He snaps at everyone, his temper flaring at the smallest provocation. On missions, he’s reckless, throwing himself into danger without a second thought, as if he’s trying to outrun something—or someone. 

In many evenings, Logan finds himself in the mansion’s gym, trying to work off the restless energy that’s been plaguing him for months. The room is always empty, save for him, the steady rhythm of his fists pounding against the punching bag being the only sound. Sweat drips down his face, his muscles straining as he channels all his frustration and anger into each punch. Yet, no matter how hard he hits, he can’t seem to shake the thoughts of you that have been haunting him.

This night, door to the gym creaks open, and Logan doesn’t need to look up to know who it is. He can sense the other man’s presence, feel the weight of his gaze as he steps inside. He doesn’t slow his punches, doesn’t acknowledge Scott’s presence, but he knows why he’s here. They’ve had this conversation before—or something like it—but nothing’s changed. Nothing’s gotten better.

Scott watches him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He’s been watching Logan spiral for weeks now, but he’s kept his distance, knowing that he’d only be pushed away. But this can’t go on—Logan can’t keep doing this, can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he refuses to confront.

“She wouldn’t want this,” he finally says, voice cutting through the steady thud of Logan’s fists against the bag.

Logan’s movements falter for just a second before he resumes, his jaw tightening. “Who?” he growls, not bothering to turn around. “Her or Jean?”

Scott doesn’t flinch at the harshness in the other man’s tone. He steps closer, his eyes steady on their target as he answers, “Both.”

Finally, Logan stops. His fists still as he leans against the bag, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His shoulders are tense, the weight of Scott’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. He doesn’t want to hear this, doesn’t want to be reminded of what he’s lost—of who he’s lost. 

Taking a step closer, Scott’s voice is firm. “Look, I’m not a spiritual person. But I also don’t think the universe messed up with this.”

Clenching, his fists, Logan knows what the other man is getting at, but he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. Doesn’t want to think about what could have been, what he’s been too scared to even consider.

“I know you know how I felt about Jean,” Scott says quietly, knowing he’s breaching a sensitive subject. “Losing her… it killed me too. And if I had been given a chance—a real chance to be with her, to make things right—I would have taken it. No hesitation.”

Logan’s breath hitches at that. The truth is, he’s been running—running from you, from the bond you share, from the possibility of something real. 

“I’m not saying you should chase after her,” he continues. “But I am saying that you need to stop running from her. The universe doesn’t just throw things like this at us for no reason. And you know that.”

The weight of Scott’s words settle over Logan like a shroud. He knows the other man is right—deep down, he’s always known. But that doesn’t make it any easier. The fear, the guilt, the pain of losing Jean—it’s all still there, gnawing at him, holding him back. 

There’s something else too, something he’s been trying to ignore but can’t any longer: the way he feels about you, the way he’s always felt, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. One of the first thought’s that ran through his head when his world re-erupted into colour was that, had this happened before Jean, maybe it could have worked. Maybe he could have been what you wanted, felt something real.

Scott takes a step back, giving Logan the space he needs. “Just think about it,” he says softly. “Think about what you really want. And don’t wait until it’s too late to figure it out.”

Logan doesn’t respond, but Scott doesn’t need him to. He’s said what he needed to say, and now it’s up to him to decide what comes next. With a final look, Scott turns and leaves the gym, the door closing softly behind him.

The clawed mutant stands there for a long time, his fists still clenched, his mind racing. He knows he can’t keep doing this—can’t keep tearing himself apart over something he can’t change, something he’s too afraid to confront.

But change is terrifying, especially when it means facing the truth. The truth that maybe, just maybe, the bond he shares with you is something worth fighting for. Something that Jean wouldn’t want him to throw away.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Logan finally lets his fists unclench, the tension in his body slowly ebbing away. He doesn’t have all the answers—hell, he barely knows where to start—but he knows one thing for sure: he's can’t run away anymore. Not from this, not from you.

—

You’ve now spent days in Florence, wandering through the Uffizi Gallery, marveling at the works of the Renaissance masters, and evenings enjoying the quiet serenity of the Arno River. With you, Marco. You’ve grown to trust him. He’s never made you uncomfortable, never had any intentions to take advantage of you, and knows all the best restaurants. 

But there’s always been a small, nagging doubt that you’ve pushed aside—a feeling that something isn’t quite right. You’ve ignored it, convincing yourself that you’re just being paranoid after everything you’ve been through. After all, he has been nothing but kind, always knowing the right thing to say, always showing up just when you need someone.

It isn’t until the two of you are exploring a quieter part of Florence, that the doubt flares into something more. You’re walking through an old, narrow alleyway, the kind that tourists rarely venture into, when Marco suggests you take a shortcut through a small, unmarked door in the side of a building.

“I found this place the last time I was here,” Marco says, his smile as easy as ever. “It’s a hidden gem, leads right to a beautiful courtyard. You’ll love it.”

You hesitate, something in his tone—or maybe it’s the way his eyes gleam just a little too brightly—sets off alarm bells in your mind. You’ve come to trust him though, haven’t you? You’ve traveled together for weeks, shared countless stories and laughs. Surely, he wouldn’t lead you into danger.

Still, as you step through the door, the darkened space beyond immediately feels wrong. The air is colder, damp, and the walls are lined with strange, unidentifiable equipment. You glance back at Marco, and that’s when you see it—the change in his expression. The warmth is gone, replaced by something cold and calculating.

Before you can react, you feel a sharp prick in your arm. Your vision blurs, and your body goes numb almost instantly. You stumble back, trying to push away, but your legs give out, and you collapse to the floor.

Marco looms over you, the smile gone from his face, replaced by a look of triumph. “Did you really think I didn’t know?” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a mutant, and you thought you could hide it from me?”

The world around you spins as the drug takes full effect, but you force your mind to stay focused. “What… why?” you manage to whisper, the betrayal cutting deep.

“Why?” He laughs, the sound harsh and devoid of any warmth. “Because mutants like you are worth a fortune. My clients pay top dollar for… research subjects. And you, my dear, are about to make me very, very rich.”

You try to move, to fight back, but your body refuses to respond. Panic rises in your chest as he kneels beside you, pulling out a small device that looks like a portable scanner. He runs it over you, and it emits a low hum as it registers your vital signs, confirming what he already knows. You’re weak. 

“You won’t get away with this,” you say.

“Oh, but I already have,” he replies with cruel satisfaction. “No one knows where you are. And even if they did, it’ll be too late by the time they find you.”

With the last bit of strength you can muster, you reach into your pocket, fingers trembling as you fumble with the X-Men communicator that Kitty gave you. His attention is momentarily distracted as he prepares a syringe filled with a clear liquid, and you seize the opportunity. You manage to pull out the communicator, your fingers barely able to grip it. Then, with a deep breath, you press the SOS button, the screen flashing to life.

You type in the message as quickly as you can, your vision blurring even more as the drug takes hold. 

Location: Florence. 

Message: Help.

Just as you hit send, Marco notices what you’re doing. His eyes widen in anger, and he grabs your wrist, yanking the communicator out of your hand. “You little—!” he snarls, but it’s too late. The message has already been sent.

His face contorts in rage as he slams the gadget against the ground, smashing it to pieces. He glares down at you, his hand tightening painfully around your wrist. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But it doesn’t matter. They’ll never get here in time.”

Your strength is nearly gone, the drug pulling you into unconsciousness, but you manage one last defiant look. “You won’t win,” you whisper with the last of your energy.

Marco releases your wrist with a sneer, standing up and looking down at you with contempt again. “We’ll see about that,” he mutters before turning away, leaving you on the cold, hard floor as darkness overtakes you. 

You can only hope they—that Logan—will reach you in time.

—

The signal comes through during a meeting. A sudden, loud beep cuts through the room,  and everyone freezes, their attention immediately drawn to the source of the sound. To Kitty’s pocket. It’s the X-Men communicator, the one linked to your device. 

Logan’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing as he recognizes the tone. He’s on his feet before anyone else can react, his heart pounding in his chest. “What the hell was that?” he demands, his voice tense with urgency.

Kitty quickly pulls it out of her pocket, her eyes widening as she reads the message that’s flashed across the screen. Her face pales, and she looks up at the others, her voice trembling as she speaks. “It’s from her… Florence… Help.”

There’s a brief pause, maybe a second long in length, and then the room erupts into a flurry of movement. 

Chairs scrape against the floor as the team rises to their feet, already preparing for action. But Logan is the first to react, his face a mask of fury and determination. “I’m going,” he growls, already heading for the door.

“Logan, wait!” Scott steps forward, blocking Logan’s path with a firm hand on his chest. 

“Get out of my way, Summers,” He snarls, his voice filled with barely controlled rage. “I’m not waiting around while she’s in danger.”

“We can’t just rush in without a plan,” Scott insists, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Logan shoves the other mutant’s hand away, his eyes blazing with anger. “She sent an SOS, Scott! She needs help, and we’re wasting time standing here talking about it!”

The rest of the team watches the confrontation with anxious eyes, knowing that things could easily escalate. Logan’s been on edge for weeks, and the urgency of the situation—of you— has pushed him to the brink. 

“Logan,” Ororo interjects, “We understand how you feel, but we need to think this through. If this is a trap—”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s a trap!” He snaps, his voice rising. “She’s part of our team! We can’t just leave her there!”

“That’s not what we’re saying,” Scott tries to reason, but Logan isn’t having it.

“Then what the hell are you sayin’?” He demands, his frustration boiling over. “Why are we wasting time when we should be getting her out of there?”

There’s a brief, uncomfortable silence, and then it’s Rogue who steps forward, conflicted. “Logan… what if… what if she doesn’t want to see you?”

He freezes, the words hitting him harder than any physical blow could. He stares at Rogue, disbelief and anger warring in his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls.

Rogue swallows, her eyes filled with worry. “She left because she needed time, Logan. Because things between you two… they weren’t good. Maybe she—maybe she doesn’t want you to be the one to save her.”

Clenching his hands into fists, his body is taut with tension. “Fuck that!” he roars with a fierce, protective rage. “She’s part of our team! She sent that message to us, to the X-Men, because she needs our help. I don’t care what’s happened between us, I’m not leavin’ her there!”

The room falls silent, the weight of Logan’s words settling over everyone. They know Logan is right—she’s part of the team, and they can’t leave her behind. But they also know that the situation is more complicated than that.

Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze steady as he looks at Logan. “We’re not saying we shouldn’t go after her, Logan. We’re saying that you need to be prepared for whatever we might find when we get there. She might be in a bad place, and she might not be ready to face you.”

“I don’t care,” he says after a brief pause, his voice quieter now, but no less determined. “I’m going to get her out of there. Whether she wants to see me or not, I’m not lettin’ her go through this alone.”

Scott studies Logan for a long moment, then finally nods. “Alright. But we do this together, as a team.”

Logan nods, his jaw set in a grim line. “Fine. Let’s go.”

—

Your eyes snap open, the dim light of the room piercing your vision. You’re in a large, abandoned warehouse. Your head feels heavy, like it’s filled with cotton, and there’s a dull, throbbing pain at the base of your skull. As you try to move, you realize with a jolt of fear that you’re restrained, your arms and legs strapped tightly to a chair. Panic flares in your chest, and you struggle against the bonds, but they don’t budge.

And then you see him—Marco, standing a few feet away, watching you with a smirk that sends a chill down your spine. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, and you realize with horror that you’ve been caught, trapped in whatever twisted game he’s been playing.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he says, voice dripping with mock concern. “I was starting to wonder if I’d given you too much of the sedative. But it seems you’re tougher than I thought.”

You try to respond, but a gag in your mouth muffles your words, turning them into incoherent sounds. You glare at him your eyes burning with fury.

He only chuckles, clearly amused by your resistance. “Oh, don’t bother trying to speak. We wouldn’t want you calling for help, now would we? Though, I must say, I’m impressed you managed to send that little SOS before I caught on. Clever, but ultimately futile.”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he looks you over, his expression turning cold. “You know, I’ve dealt with a lot of mutants in my time, but there’s something special about you. Something… unique.” He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Too bad your powers won’t do you any good here. The drug I gave you should keep you nice and powerless for the foreseeable future.”

Straining against the bonds, you continue to try to break free, but he drug in your system dulls your abilities, leaving you feeling weak and vulnerable. All you can do is stare at him with hatred as he continues to taunt you.

“Such fire in your eyes,” Marco murmurs, almost to himself. “It’s a shame you’ll never see the light of day again. But don’t worry—I’ll make sure your abilities are put to good use.”

He lets go of your chin, his hand trailing down to your shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Now, let’s see what we can do to make you a little more… compliant.”

Just as he reaches into his coat pocket, presumably for another syringe, a sudden, loud crash echoes through the warehouse. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass fills the air, followed by the unmistakable hum of energy blasts and the heavy thud of boots on the concrete floor.

The X-Men have arrived.

Marco’s eyes widen in surprise and then narrow in anger. He spins around, barking orders at the security guards scattered throughout the warehouse. “Stop them! Don’t let them get near her!”

The guards rush forward, weapons drawn, but they’re no match for your friends. The familiar sounds of battle flood your ears—Rogue’s powerful punches, Scott’s optic blasts, and Storm’s lightning crackling through the air. You struggle against your restraints again, desperate to free yourself, but it’s no use. 

Then, you catch a glimpse of Logan. He’s fighting his way toward you, his claws out, slicing through anyone who gets in his way. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, your eyes meet his, and you can see the raw determination in his gaze. He’s coming for you.

But just as he takes a step forward, something changes. He hesitates. You can’t hear what he’s thinking, but you can see the conflict on his face—the way he seems to second-guess himself, the way his steps falter. Your heart sinks as you realize he’s unsure, almost as if he's torn between wanting to save you and fearing that you don’t want him to.

In that split second of hesitation, Rogue swoops in, landing beside you with a determined look on her face. She doesn’t waste any time, using her strength to tear through the restraints that bind you. “We’ve got you, sugah,” she says, her voice steady and reassuring as she pulls the gag from your mouth. “You’re safe now.”

You nod, your throat too dry and your body too weak to speak. Your muscles scream in protest as you try to stand, but she quickly wraps an arm around you, helping you to your feet. You’re shaky, your body still reeling from the effects of the drug, but you’re free. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan still standing there, his eyes locked on you, his expression unreadable. He wanted to save you. He wanted to be the one to pull you out of that nightmare, but something held him back.

Rogue helps you toward the exit as the rest of the team continues to subdue the guards and Marco. You lean heavily on her, your legs barely able to support your weight, but you force yourself to keep moving. 

And when everyone else has back in the jet, hugging you and comforting you, you look over to Logan, who sits far away, on the opposite side, refusing to meet your gaze. 

—

Returning to the mansion feels like stepping back into a familiar, comforting embrace. You missed the soft, warm bed in your room, the quiet serenity of the gardens, and the comforting presence of your friends. It's been a few days since the whole ordeal in Florence, and the drug has finally worked its way out of your system. Your strength has returned, and physically, you feel like yourself again. The mansion, too, seems unchanged—still the safe haven you’ve always known.

But as the days pass, you begin to notice that while many things have returned to normal, some things have not. You’ve seen most of your friends, their faces lighting up when they see you, their hugs tight and full of relief. There have been quiet conversations and laughter, shared meals in the kitchen, and moments that remind you why this place is home.

Except, there’s one person you haven’t seen. Logan.

His absence is like a shadow that follows you wherever you go. You’ve felt his presence in the mansion—heard his voice in the halls, the sound of his footsteps on the floorboards—but he’s kept his distance. He hasn’t sought you out, hasn’t tried to talk to you, and that stings more than you want to admit.

You’ve tried to stay strong, to remind yourself of the resilience you found during your time away. You’ve reminded yourself over and over that you don’t need anyone else to validate your worth, that you can stand on your own. Yet the longer Logan avoids you, the harder it is to hold on to that strength. The old wounds, the ones you thought had begun to heal, start to ache again, and you can’t help but wonder if anything has really changed at all.

More often than not, you find yourself retreating to the front lawn. The sun is warm on your skin as you lie down in the grass, a book in hand. The soft rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant hum of life inside the mansion create a peaceful background, and for a moment, you manage to lose yourself in the pages of your book.

Still, even here, in the sanctuary of the garden, the thoughts you’ve been trying to push aside keep creeping back in. The memory of Florence, of Logan’s hesitation, lingers like a bitter aftertaste. You replay the moment over and over in your mind, trying to make sense of it, trying to understand why he stopped, why he didn’t come for you.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the shadow that falls across your page until a deep, familiar voice breaks the silence.

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

The voice startles you, and you jerk slightly, looking up to see Logan standing above you. His expression is guarded, as if he’s not sure how you’ll react to his presence. There’s a tautness to his posture, a stiffness that you recognize all too well. 

For a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by the suddenness of his appearance. He’s as rugged and intimidating as ever, but there’s something different in his eyes—something a tad bit softer. You close your book, sitting up slowly as you meet his gaze. The question that’s been gnawing at you since Florence rises to the surface, and you know you can’t keep it inside any longer.

“What happened?” you ask, your voice steady but filled with quiet intensity. “In Florence?”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a moment, his gaze shifting to the trees in the distance. He doesn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretches out between you, thick with unspoken words. 

You just watch him, waiting for an explanation, but there’s a part of you that’s already bracing for disappointment. You’ve been here before, waiting for Logan to decide what happens next, to take the lead. And you’re tired of it. You’re tired of being the one left in the dark, of being the one who has to wait for him to be ready.

Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. “I… I hesitated,” he admits huskily, almost in a growl. “I wanted to save you. Hell, I was going to. But then… I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

His confession hangs in the air, and you feel a mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and sadness. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t realized that his hesitation was rooted in something so painfully human.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to?” you ask softly, searching his face for answers.

Logan finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. “Because of everything that’s happened between us. Because I pushed you away. I hurt you, and I thought… maybe you’d be better off if it wasn’t me.”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of his reasoning. “Logan, this can’t keep being about what you think is best,” you begin. “And it’s not about who saves who. It’s about being there when it counts. You were there. You came for me.”

He doesn’t have a response to that, at least not right away. He looks down at the ground, his fists unclenching, his shoulders slumping even further. It’s like he’s carrying the weight of everything he’s done, everything he’s failed to do, and it’s crushing him. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally manages to get out. “For everything.”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I know I’ve messed up,” he continues. “I know I haven’t been there for you like I should’ve. But I’m here now. And if you’ll let me… I want to try to make things right.”

You know you should be happy—this is everything you’ve wanted to hear from him for so long. But it’s also too much, too late. The doubt, the pain, it can’t just disappear with a snap of your fingers.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you admit. 

There’s pain on his face. “I get it,” he says, his voice rough but steady. “I know I’ve got a lot to make up for. And I know it’s not going to happen overnight. But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, if it means I can earn your trust back.”

“I need time. I need time to figure out where I stand, and where you stand with me.”

He nods slowly, his gaze dropping to the ground again. “Take all the time you need,” he says quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I appreciate that,” With a small nod, you stand up, brushing the grass off your clothes. “I need time,” you repeat, more for your own benefit than his.

“And you’ve got it,” Logan replies. “As much as you need.”

—

Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. You focus on yourself, on healing the wounds that were reopened during your conversation with Logan. It feels strange, being the one who needs space, but you know it’s necessary. You find things to take your mind off him: you train more, read more, spend more time with Rogue, Kitty, or Remy. It’s nice.

But Logan… Logan doesn’t give up. He knows you need time, and he respects that. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pressure you to make a decision, but he makes it clear through his actions that he hasn’t forgotten about you, and more importantly, that he isn’t going anywhere.

It starts with the small things—things so subtle that you almost don’t notice at first. You probably wouldn’t have suspected anything if you hadn’t known the kind of person he is. He’s nothing if not persistent. He knows you better than you realize—the rift he created after Jean’s death muddling with your memory—and he uses that knowledge to quietly, almost imperceptibly, work his way back into your life.

In the mornings, you wake up to find your favorite snacks waiting for you in the kitchen, carefully placed where you’d be sure to see them. He never mentions it, never takes credit, but you know it’s him. It’s in the way he glances at you from the corner of his eye as you take a bite, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He never makes a big deal out of it—just a quiet, unspoken gesture that says, I’m thinking of you.

Then there are the late-night training sessions. You go down to the Danger Room or the gym, hoping to clear your mind with a bit of solitary exercise, only to find Logan already there. At first, you’re tempted to leave, to find somewhere else to work out, but something in his demeanor stops you. He doesn’t approach you, doesn’t speak unless you initiate it. Instead, he just… exists beside you, his presence steady and reassuring, like a rock in the storm.

It’s in these moments that you begin to see a different side of Logan—one that’s patient, understanding, and perhaps a little unsure of himself. He follows your lead, mirroring your exercises or silently spotting you during weightlifting, always attentive to your needs without ever making you feel pressured or overwhelmed. He’s just there, offering his support in the quietest, most understated way possible.

And then there are the little surprises in your room—small, thoughtful gestures that you can’t help but notice. A favorite book you’d mentioned in passing suddenly appears on your nightstand, its pages pristine and waiting for you to dive into. The time-worn leather straps on your gear are suddenly replaced with new ones that fit perfectly, the stitching unmistakably done by Logan’s hand. Even your plants, the ones you’d worried would wither away while you were on a mission, seem to thrive in your absence, the soil freshly watered and the leaves turned toward the sun.

He never asks for thanks, never draws attention to what he’s doing. It’s all done quietly, behind the scenes, as if he’s afraid that if you notice too much, you might push him away. But you do notice. How could you not?

At first, you try to ignore it, telling yourself that these gestures don’t change anything, that they’re just a way for Logan to assuage his guilt. You tell yourself that he’s just doing this because he feels bad, because he wants to make up for the past, not because he actually cares. You’ve built walls around your heart for a reason, and you’re not ready to let them down just because he’s being nice.

But over time, those small gestures begin to chip away at those walls, brick by brick. You start to realize that Logan isn’t just going through the motions—he’s really paying attention, noticing the little things that make you who you are. It isn’t just about the snacks or the books or the plants—it’s about the way he remembers the details of your life, the things that matter to you, the things that make you feel seen and understood.

After a particularly long and stressful day, you return to your room exhausted, and all you want is to collapse into bed and forget the world for a while. But when you walk in, you find a small bouquet of wildflowers sitting on your nightstand, the beautiful colors a stark contrast to the dark thoughts that have been swirling in your mind all day. There’s no note, no explanation—there never is—but you know who left them.

You just stand there, staring at the flowers, your heart squeezing in your chest. It’s such a simple gesture, and yet it means so much. You’d forgotten that Logan knew how much you love wildflowers—you’d mentioned it once, years ago. The way they’re resilient, thriving even in the harshest conditions, blooming where others wouldn’t. It’s as if he’s telling you that he sees that strength in you, that he admires it.

And it’s then, in the quiet of your room, surrounded by the small, thoughtful gestures that Logan has left behind, that you realize something. This isn’t just about making up for the past. Logan is showing you, in the only way he knows how, that he wants this. Wants you.

He's finally picked up the pieces of him that fell apart after Jean’s death, and he is willing to pick up the pieces of you that fell apart after his rejection.

So, one evening, months after that fateful conversation on the lawn, you find yourself standing in the common room, staring at the fireplace, lost in thought. The mansion is quiet, the rest of the team either out on a mission or asleep. It’s just you and the flickering flames, the soft crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

But when you hear footsteps behind you, heavy and deliberate, you know instantly who it is. Without turning, you can sense his presence, the way he moves with that quiet confidence, the way the air seems to shift when he is near. Logan has always had a way of grounding you, even when you don’t want him to.

He walks up beside you, stopping just short of touching you, his warmth radiating in the small space between your bodies. He doesn’t say anything at first, doesn’t ask why you’re here or try to force a conversation. He just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets, waiting patiently, giving you the time you need. It’s something you’ve come to appreciate about him in recent months—his newfound ability to just be, without pushing or demanding more than you’re ready to give.

"I’ve been thinking," you say finally, your voice soft, as you continue to gaze into the flames.

"Yeah?" Logan asks, his tone careful, as if he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.

You turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "You’ve been… different. Doing all these little things… I see them, you know."

Logan’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long time, you see hope there. "I just wanted you to know that I care. That I’m sorry," he says, with so much emotion. “You were never a burden to me.”

You swallow hard. "It’s hard for me, Logan," you admit, "I’ve been hurt before, and I’m scared. Scared that if I let myself love you again, you’ll just… break me."

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. "I’d never hurt you again," he says, "I’d rather cut off my own damn hand than hurt you. The past is the past, and you are my future."

That’s enough to make your walls crumble completely. You know, deep down, that Logan is telling the truth. That he’s willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust again.

And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’re ready to let him.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you let your actions speak for you. You close the distance between you, standing on your toes as you press your lips to his in a gentle, tentative kiss. Logan freezes for a split second, as if he can’t believe this is really happening, but then he kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close, holding you as if he never wants to let go.

The kiss is slow, tender, full of everything that has been building between you for so long. It isn’t just a kiss—it’s a promise, a commitment to try again, to rebuild what has been broken. When you finally pull back, your breath mingling with his, you rest your head on his shoulder. "I’m still scared," you whisper.

"I know," Logan replies, his arms tightening around you. "But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ll take this slow, darlin’. Whatever you need."

You nod. "Okay."

Logan smiles then, a real, genuine smile that makes your heart flutter in a way it hasn’t in years. It’s a smile full of relief, of gratitude, of love—a smile that tells you that he understands just how much this moment means, just how much you’re giving him by letting him back into your heart.

—

The time that follows is a slow, steady journey of rebuilding trust. Logan is true to his word—he is patient, understanding, and surprisingly tender in ways you hadn’t expected. The small gestures continue—coffee waiting for you in the morning, a gentle hand on your back during missions, quiet moments of companionship where no words are needed.

You can feel the doubts you’ve been holding onto slowly begin to fade. Each time Logan shows up for you, each time he puts your needs above his own, it chips away at the fear that has kept you guarded for so long. It’s in the way he listens when you talk, truly listens, as if every word you say matters. It’s in the way he looks at you—not with the same fury he once had, but with a steady, enduring affection that speaks of something deeper.

With Jean, he loved her because she was his soulmate, she was who the universe destined him to be with. He loved her because that’s what he thought he had to do.

With you, he has a choice. He doesn’t need to acknowledge the bond, but he chooses to. He chooses to everyday and he’ll never stop. He loves you because he wants to, not because he has to.

One evening, you find yourself sitting on the mansion’s porch watching the sunset. Logan joins you without a word, sitting close enough that your shoulders brush. 

“You’ve been quiet today,” he says softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I’ve just been thinking,” you reply, leaning your head on his shoulder. It’s a simple gesture, but one that speaks volumes about how far you’ve come in trusting him again.

“’Bout what?” he asks, his voice gentle.

“About us,” you say, your voice steady. “About how things have changed. How… how good they’ve been.”

Logan’s hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours in a way that feels so natural, so right. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echo, squeezing his hand. “I’m not scared anymore, Logan. Not like I was.”

He turns to face you, his eyes searching yours. “You sure?”

You nod, smiling softly. “I’m sure. You’ve shown me that this bond means something to you, that you’re not going to hurt me. And… I want this. I want us.”

Logan’s face lights up with so much love, that it takes your breath away. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad, darlin’. Because I want us too. More than anything.”

—

It isn’t long before the rest of the X-Men begin to notice the change in Logan as well. At first, it’s subtle—small things like the way he looks at you during briefings, or the way he seems to be more patient, more relaxed when you’re around. But over time, it becomes impossible to ignore.

During a training session in the Danger Room, you’re paired with Logan for a simulated mission. The others watch as Logan moves with you in perfect sync, his focus not just on the mission but on you—making sure you’re safe, supporting you when needed, and trusting you completely. It’s a far cry from the Logan they had seen when he was in mourning, where his moves were rash and careless.

After the session, as you and Logan leave the Danger Room, you catch sight of Ororo and Scott exchanging a look, the kind of look that speaks volumes, full of surprise and a touch of amusement.

“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you approach them.

Ororo smiles warmly, a knowing glint in her eyes. “Nothing, just… noticing how good you two are together.”

Scott nods in agreement, his expression softening as he glances at Logan. “Yeah, it’s… different, finally seeing him like this. In a good way.”

Logan shrugs, but there’s no hiding the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’re you guys talking about?”

“Just that it’s nice to see you happy, Logan,” Ororo says gently. “Really happy.”

Logan looks at you then, his smile growing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah. It is.”

More members of the team begin to notice the change in Logan as time goes on. Rogue, who has always had a soft spot for him, comments on how he seems more at ease, less burdened by the weight of his past. Hank, ever the observer, points out how Logan’s demeanor has shifted—less brooding, more open. Even Charles, who has seen Logan through his darkest times, pulls you aside one day to express his approval.

“I must say,” Charles says, his tone warm and approving, “I haven’t seen Logan like this in a very long time. Whatever you two have managed to sort out, it’s working.”

And it is. Slowly but surely, the wounds that had once held you back have healed. The doubts that had kept you from fully embracing your relationship with Logan have faded, replaced by a deep, abiding love. It isn’t just the little gestures anymore—it’s the way Logan makes you feel seen, heard, and cherished in a way that no one else ever has.

—

“I never thought we’d get here,” you admit one night whilst looking up at the stars.

Logan looks at you, his expression tender. “Neither did I,” he says, his voice full of sincerity. “But I’m damn glad we did.”

You smile, leaning into him as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I love you, Logan. And I trust you. Completely.”

His grip tightens slightly, as if to hold onto the moment, to hold onto you. “I love you too, darlin’. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone.”

You know what he’s trying to say. So without thinking, you reach up and cup his face, drawing him closer until your lips are just a breath away from his. “Show me,” you whisper, your voice low and filled with desire.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He closes the small gap between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that is soft at first, almost tentative, as if he’s savoring the feel of you. 

You can feel the heat between you building, the kiss growing more fervent as your hands roam over his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, then into his hair. Brown. 

His hands slide up your back, one hand tangling in your hair as he angles your head, deepening the kiss further until you’re both breathless.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads resting against each other’s, you’re both panting, your hearts racing in sync. His eyes are dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he holds you close.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs. “I never thought I’d get my happy ending, but here you are… and I’m never lettin’ you go.”

You smile, feeling the last remnants of pain melt away, replaced by a certainty that this is where you’re meant to be. “And I’m never leaving,” you whisper back, sealing your words with another kiss that quickly reignites the fire between you.

This kiss is hungrier, more urgent, as if you both need to make up for lost time. Logan’s hands roam your body with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine, his touch igniting a fire in your core.

That night, you lose yourself in him, in the way he tastes, in the way he makes love to you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. Because this time, you’re not just in love—you’re in love with a man who loves you back, fully and completely. 

And that makes all the difference.

----

a/n: i love you if you made it this far. please check out my new series The Feeling's Mutual

[imaginaryf1shots]

Soulmate | Max Verstappen Ver.

WC: 4.1K

Max x journalist!reader

Summery: you live in a world where soulmates exist, and until you find yourself, you only see in black and white.

Warnings: none?

Masterlist

Max Masterlist

Lewis Ver. , Oscar Ver. , Charles Ver.

In a world where everyone is born seeing black and white, the promise of seeing colour is on everyone's mind. The key to unlocking the colours is your soulmate. Meeting their eyes will make you be able to see all the hues and shades of the world. Those who see colours describe it so beautifully. People usually discover their soulmates between the age of 18 and 25, some earlier and some later. However, some people start to lose hope when year after year passes and no colour is introduced into their lives.

You have lived your life hoping and believing that one day, a single glance will change your world. But as you've hit your adult years and not a single colour, you've lost hope, all your friends and family see colour already, even your 13 year old cousin. So you just came to terms with seeing life in monochrome. You just focused on your career, building it up and making something of yourself.

You've worked in a few sports before, football, tennis before you moved to motorsport, starting with NASCAR then Formula 2 and here you are now after two months in Formula 2 you've been promoted to Formula 1. The world of formula 1 is very fast-paced, and you find yourself deep in it, watching old races and interviews and races. The sport intrigued you, the races, the adrenaline, the drama.

Due to your easy going nature, and how you can get people comfortable, you've been made to interview the drivers for a new segment for F1TV, a room was giving to you on track and each week you sit down for a long interview with two drivers.

“I just don't understand. Why won't you try it?” You heard your mum's voice through your phone's speaker. Rolling your eyes at her words as you got ready for the day. “Don't roll your eyes at me.”

You sigh and wonder how she always knows when you do that. “Mum, I told you, I don't want to.”

“I just don't get why, I've heard of so many stories of people being happy after they try it.”

“Mum, please, I'm busy with work, I don't have time for any of this.” You exasperated.

“That excuse died a long time ago.” Your mum fought back.

“Mum, I love you, but you just don't get it, so please just leave me be.” 

“I only say this because I care about-”

“You don't understand, and you never well, okay, you found dad when you were 19, you've found him and you never had to go on dates for people who lost or gave up, and yes I kind of lost hope, I'm not getting my hopes up anymore, but it kills me, why do I not have a soulmate, everyone I know already found theirs and I hear about it all the time, I'm lonely, I'm extremely lonely, even when I'm out with friends when we have family gatherings I'm lonely, and I heat about colours and shades and all I see is grey, so don't try to enterfer anymore please, just let me be.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“I'm sorry, love.” Was all she could say in the end. “I didn't realise.”

“I know you didn't.” Your voice sounded defeated. “I have a to go, I'll talk to you later.”

“Okay, honey, talk to you later.”

Your conversation with your mother left you feeling down and unmotivated.

This weekend, you'd be interviewing Alex Albon and Max Verstappen. Alex came first, and you sat down in front of the cameras for the lengthy interview. The set was cozy, and Alex was a blast to interview. You talked about racing to his pets, to golf, to his dreams, and so on. Alex is funny and easy to talk to you, so the interview went smoothly, and he didn't stop talking, and it all just flowed easy between the two of you. Even with your bad mood, you still enjoyed your time, and your mood got better.

After Alex left with a quick hug, you were told that Verstappen would be coming a bit later than anticipated, so you'd have 45 minutes between the interviews. That time, you and the crew took a break and ate some food before you had to be ready once more for the reigning world champion. And right before he came in, one of the crew rushed in and went straight to you and the producer.

"Max is apparently in a very bad mood. The media panel today was a disaster." He told the two of you, your eyes met the producers in worry. You've seen interviews of angry Max, and you weren't looking forward to interviewing him, not after the morning you had.

"I thought we only had drivers without the panel for the week?" You asked, confused.

"I did, too. There must've been a mix-up either with us or his schedule." The producer told you. "What was he asked?"

"Uh, they asked about him not finding his soulmate, and if it's maybe a sign that he's meant to be alone." You and the producer gasped at the rude question, of course his mood was soured, you don't ask or speak about people who haven't found their soulmates like that, you knew the pain of not finding your other half very well, and it's always painful to constantly asked about if you found them. "They even asked if he thinks his mood will get better once he does and if he'll calm down."

"Wow, that's just, that's so rude." The producer said and looked at you. Everyone knows you haven't found yours as well. The producer gave you a smile and patted your shoulder. "Don't worry and just stay calm. Our questions aren't intrusive or uncatting. We don't have anything about his love life.”

“You're right.” You nod to yourself in encouragement.

Max walks in with his entourage, his press officer walks over to you and the producer, she tells you to just jump into the interview seeing as he ran late to come here and he has other things he needs to do after.

You glance at the driver as he gets mic-ed up. Max's presence was imposing, his haw was set, and his eyes were hard. You could feel his mood even from a distance. The producer hurried you along.

You sat on the comfortable sofa, you try out the sofas each week to make sure it's comfortable for the drivers, as the sport light was on you. You introduced yourself with a fake smile, glancing at Max for a second before looking at your notes.

"Good afternoon, Max." You started calming your racing heart by saying to yourself that this is just an interview. "Thank you for taking the time to speak with us today. How are you feeling about this weekend's race?"

"It's going to be a challenging race, but I'm confident." Max's expression remained guarded, but he responded as calmly as he could. "The team has done a great job, as we're well-prepared."

"That's always good to hear." You replied, keeping your tone light. Maybe this won't be too bad. "This track has a lot of history. Do you have any special memories or moments here that stand out to you?"

"Definitely, this was one of the first tracks I raced in in Formula 1." Max's gaze softened, and yet again, your eyes just looked all over his face not meeting his eyes, even in monochrome you couldn't deny how good looking he is, you wondered what colour his hair is, it looks soft.

"It's a very demanding track, but once you get it right, it's very rewarding."

"That's wonderful." You nodded, feeling the tension ease just a bit. "Now, moving away from racing for a moment, how do you usually unwind during the season? Especially with such a long season, do you have any hobbies or activities that help you relax?"

As you asked the question, you looked up, meeting Max's eyes for the first time. In that split second, and as you blinked, everything changed. The world around you, previously in grayscale blur, just erupted into vibrant, breathtaking colour. Starting from Max's eyes, their shades the first thing you've seen, and moving to the color of his clothes, the sofa and everything around you, everything has come to life in a way you've never experienced before. Max's eyes warm and held an expression mirroring your own.

Max blinked, and in an instant, his stern an slightly annoyed façade/mood broke, a genuine smile that he never had before broke across his face.

"I-uh." He cleared his throat to try and regain some of his composure after the revelation he just had, both your eyes meeting and not straying from each other. "I enjoy spending time with my family and friends." He said, his voice softer, almost as if he was speaking to you alone. "I also spend a lot of time sim racing and gaming with my friends, a bit of FIFA here and there."

Like Max, you could hardly believe what had happened, fighting to maintain your composure, you continue a smile tugging at your lips. "That sounds like a lot of fun. Do you ever play FIFA with other drivers? I imagine it would get pretty competitive."

"Yes, we do, sometimes." Max chuckled, the tension between the two of you completely dissolved to the amazement of everyone behind the cameras. "It's always a good time, and it definitely gets competitive. We take it seriously, even though it's just for fun."

The crew keeps exchanging confused glances unaware of the profound shift that had occurred. You force yourself to focus on the next question, the vibrant colours making everything around you feel surreal.

“Speaking of competition, if you weren’t a Formula 1 driver, what other career path do you think you might have taken?” You asked, genuinely curious.

Max leaned back, considering the question. “I’ve always been passionate about sports, so maybe something related to that, like engineering or coaching. I enjoy working closely with a team and seeing how everything comes together.”

“That’s really interesting.” You said, nodding. “It shows how much you value teamwork and the technical aspects of the sport.”

“What about you?” Max asks, and you look at him confused. “If you weren't a journalist, what would you want to be?”

“Oh, since I choose sports and have been surrounded by it for years, I think I'd be a sportswoman.” You tell him with a smile. “You're lucky, I'm too old to get into karting.”

“Guess, if you were into karting, we would've met years ago.” You knew what he meant. You could've met your soulmate years ago if you'd been in karting. 

“I guess so.” You try not to think about the what ifs as you ask the last question. “One last question that we ask to every driver, what advice would you give to young aspiring drivers who look up to you?”

Max’s eyes met yours again, a spark of connection undeniable between you. “I’d tell them to stay focused and never give up. It’s a tough journey, but if you’re passionate and willing to work hard, you can achieve your dreams. It’s important to stay dedicated, even when things get tough.”

“Great advice, Max. Thank you so much for your time. It’s been a pleasure talking with you.” You concluded, barely able to contain the smile spreading across your face.

Max smiled back, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable. “Thank you. It’s been great speaking with you, too.”

The interview wrapped up, but as the revelation between the two lf you lingered you didn't want to leave, after so many years of guessing who your soulmate be and almost giving up entirely you didn't want to be apart from even for a second.

Max may seem tough to people, strong and determined, but he's spent nights dreaming of when he'd finally meet you. His thoughts lately have been of self doubt, maybe everyone is right, and the reason he hadn't met you yet is that he doesn't deserve you. He's too hot-headed, too aggressive. But here you are, proving him and everyone who doubted him wrong.

The crew, oblivious to the transformation, began packing up the equipment, their chatter and movements a blur in your colourful new world.

Max turned to you, his demeanour noticeably lighter, a subtle smile still playing on his lips. 

“I don’t have my phone with me.” Max managed to find his voice, his voice softer now, almost tentative. “Could I borrow yours for a moment?”

“Of course.” You replied, your voice trembling slightly as you handed him your phone.

He took it with a nod of thanks and quickly entered his number, calling his own phone to ensure that he'll be able to contact you after the day is over. When he handed your phone back, your fingers brushed, and an electric jolt shot through you, confirming the profound connection. As if the colours weren't enough, the electric feeling that went through you is a confirmation. Max left the room with a lingering look at you.

The crew, sensing something unusual but unable to pinpoint it, exchanged puzzled glances. One of your colleagues approached, and his brow furrowed in confusion. 

“What just happened?” He asked, his tone laced with curiosity. “Did you two know each other before?”

You struggled to keep your emotions in check, a smile fighting to break free. “No, we just...connected.” You said, unable to find the right words to describe the whirlwind of emotions and the explosion of colour that had transformed your world.

Max left the room and started to look around, as if he's seeing everything for the first time and in a sense he was. He took in the colours that have been described to him many times before, he looked to the sky and saw the blue everyone described, he saw a few trees and saw the green leaves and the brown trunk. Everything looked so different now.

The rest of the day you both got questions and buzzed looks from those working with you, both your moods are good and it's not wavering, it's not changing. The realisation of what had happened, of finding your soulmate in such an unexpected place, left you reeling.

Later, as the paddock began to empty and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the vibrant landscape, as you stood and watched your first colourful sunset, you received a message from Max.

Meet me after you finish work. We need to talk.

Time could couldn’t go by fast enough, you kept looking at your phone waiting for Max to tell you where you'd meet  you had finished your work for the day, but work for F1 drivers take kuchen longer than yours. Every moment stretched into eternity as you waited for it to end. As you looked at the sun from the top of the FIA hospitality, you wished Max was with you enjoying your first sunset together. You dont know Max, you know if Max, but you've never met before today, but you feel like you do. It feels like everything is alright, like the world is finally tilted the right way, gravity is finally working.

come to redbull motorhome.

You made the jounry from the FIA building to redbull, right as you reached through building Max came out and gestured for you to come in, trying not to be seen by fans or cameras. He made you walk in front of him, his hand on your back as he guided you. You feel the heat, and even the electricity was evident through the layers of your clothes, you relaxed instantly to his toutch, leaning back into it. Max sighed. It felt like he could toutch you skin to skin, the feeling vibrated through him filling him up.

Max led you to his room. From the tours you've seen other teams do, Max's room looked the best. You both sat on the sofa facing each other. Your eyes were just taking the other in, Max's hair was ruffled, as if he ran his hand through it a lot. You took in his eyes, which you now know are blue, his nose the shape of his jaw, yhe frekle on his lips, you're trying to memorise him. Tattoo him into your mind.

Max took your hand in his, and you wonder if the feeling of electricity will remain forever or will it fade with time. You both close your eyes for a moment. 

“Did you have a good day?” You asked softly after you opened your eyes.

“It didn't start ikay, but there's something that made my day, my week, my life.” Max replied, his voice gentle. You couldn't fight the smile that took over your face. There was a moment of silence, each of you searching for the right words to express the whirlwind of emotions you were feeling.

“I can’t believe what happened earlier.” You began, your voice filled with wonder and disbelief. “I never thought... I had almost given up on finding my soulmate.”

Max nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Me too. I’ve been so focused on racing, I started to think that maybe it wasn’t going to happen for me. But then I saw you, and everything changed.”

You leaned closer, it wasn't a conscious decision, but you were feeling the warmth of his presence. “I’ve been living in black and white for so long, I forgot what it felt like to hope. And now, it’s like... like everything has come alive.”

Max squeezed your hand, sending a familiar electric thrill through you, a reminder of the bond you had discovered. “I know exactly what you mean. I’ve been so caught up in my career, I stopped looking for anything else. But today, meeting you... it’s like the world has finally made sense.” You smiled, your heart swelling with a mixture of relief and joy. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? How we can go from feeling like we’re missing something, to finding everything in a single moment.”

“I’m so glad we found each other. It’s like a dream come true, one I never thought I’d get to experience.” Max’s gaze softened, his eyes reflecting the same vibrant colors that now filled your world.

You squeezed his hand, feeling the connection deepening with each passing second. “I’m happy too. I was beginning to think that maybe it wasn’t meant for me, that maybe I’d never see the world in colour. But now, being here with you... it feels like everything was leading up to this.”

Max’s smile widened, and he leaned closer, his hand still holding yours. “I know we’ve just met, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. It’s like... like we were always meant to find each other, no matter what.”

You nodded, tears of happiness welling up in your eyes. “I feel the same way. It’s like all the waiting. All the wondering was worth it because it brought me to you.”

He gently wiped away a tear that had escaped down your cheek, his touch tender and reassuring. “We have a lot to look forward to.” he said softly. “And I can’t wait to experience everything in colour, either you.” 

You leaned into his touch, your heart filled with a warmth you had never known before. “Me too, Max. I’m so grateful we found each other, even if it took a bit longer than we expected. It was worth the wait.”

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, the world around you fading into a blur of colour and emotion. For the first time in your life, you felt complete, the missing piece of your heart finally found.

As you sat there in his room, the noise from outside faddws away and a that mattered was that you found each other.

Later that week on Sunday, you find yourself in the media pen, Max wasn't on the podium after contact with another driver on track, Max wasn't amused, he hated losing, he was clearly not satisfied. The frustration was evident in his clenched jaw and the tense set of his shoulders as he made his way through the sea of microphones and cameras, his responses curt and tinged with irritation. The incident with another driver had cost him the win, and you could already sense the frustration simmering in the air.

Finally, it was your turn. As he approached, you could see the tension in his posture, the anger still simmering just below the surface. You offered a gentle smile, hoping to soften his mood.

“Hi, Max. Tough race today.” You began, keeping your voice calm and understanding. “Can you walk us through what happened out there?”

Max sighed, his expression strained but slightly less harsh as he met your gaze. “Yeah, it wasn’t great. We were doing well, but then there was contact with another car, and that threw everything off. It’s frustrating because we had a good chance of winning.”

You nodded, listening intently. “I can understand how disappointing that must be. Can you tell us more about the incident? What exactly happened?”

He glanced around, his irritation still evident but less intense than before. “He was going for an overtake, and I thought I had enough room, but we ended up colliding. It cost us a lot of time and positions. It’s just... frustrating.”

Your heart went out to him. You wanted to offer some comfort, to show him that you understood his frustration. Max was leaning his hands on the barrier so you subtly reached out and touched his hand, a gentle, reassuring gesture. He glanced down, surprised, and when he looked back up at you, his eyes had softened.

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Max.” You said, your voice filled with genuine concern. “It must be tough to end the race this way after all the hard work you and the team put in.”

He took a deep breath, his expression relaxing a bit more. “Yeah, it’s not the result we wanted, but that’s racing. We’ll learn from this and come back stronger. Thanks for understanding.”

You offered a supportive smile, your hand still resting lightly on his. “I’m sure you will. You’ve always shown great resilience. What’s the plan moving forward from here?”

Max’s mood seemed to lighten further, the tension visibly easing from his shoulders. “We’ll go back, analyze what happened, and make sure we’re better prepared for the next race. It’s important to keep looking forward.”

“Absolutely.” You agreed, your voice encouraging. “One setback doesn’t define you or the team. You’ve got a lot of races ahead, and I’m sure we’ll see you back on the top soon.”

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. “Thanks. It means a lot to hear that.”

As the interview wrapped up, Max’s demeanor was noticeably calmer. The frustration from earlier had dulled, replaced by a quiet determination. He glanced at you, a hint of gratitude in his expression.

“Thanks for the interview.” He said, his voice softer once the mic was out of his face. “And for... you know, understanding.”

You smiled back, your heart lifting. “Anytime, Max. I’m sure the next race will be better.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turned to leave. Max will always be grateful for you. He's known you for a couple days, and you both spent all of your free time together and texting whenever you could. He felt like you understood the highs and lows of racing making him bind with you more. You understood sport and how everything can change in a second.

For now, the disappointment of the day was behind him, and the promise of future victories lay ahead. And in that brief, quiet moment, you had been able to offer a bit of comfort, a reminder that even in the toughest times, there’s always a reason to look forward.

Max accidently said he sees colour in one of the interviews a few months later, and so the hunt for his soulmate has begun. Thankfully, since you work in F1, you weren't suspected, and so you were able to keep your privacy. For a while.

During winter break, photos of you were released to the public, and the fans have gone wild. Every single interaction you've had was cut and edited. And the moment your eyes met went viral all over social media, in the F1 sphere and outside of it.

For you and Max, you're both just glad you finally found your other half. That you don't have to go through this world alone.

Vote for the next one

Maintaglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU

Masterpost

Guys, I'm so sorry. But here's this!

~~~~

Danny blinks and he is somewhere else. He’s sitting at a dining room table, surrounded. There are so many people here. They’re all talking over each other, some yelling, some laughing. This scene comes as a great surprise to him, who -one blink ago- was trying and failing to do his homework at home in his room. Danny shoots up, his chair making a horrible noise as he pushes it away so fast it tumbles over. Everyone in the room turns to look over at him like he’s insane. 

“Oh my god, who are you people?” Danny did not mean to say this out loud, but at the sound of his voice he startles. Danny takes a moment to assess, and then, “Oh my god who am I?”  He is tall, and big, and this is certainly not his body, what is he wearing.

The boy sitting to the right of Danny, a little shorter than he is, with black hair and blue eyes (though now that he’s paying attention that does describe most people in the room),  starts chuckling lightly. “Uh, Jason? Are you good?” 

Danny turns to stare him right in the eyes. “What day is it?”

And he can tell the concern around the table is just ratcheting up every time he opens his stupid mouth.

“Did you hit your head on patrol?” The voice comes from the only blond and one of the only girls in the room, who's to the left of the person across from him. The person across from him is another boy with black hair and blue eyes who is studying Danny in a way that makes him uncomfortable, that under-a-microscope look that makes you feel like you’re failing at something.

“I have no idea if Jason hit his head.” Danny says. “I was just trying to remember if it was my birthday.”

And if he thought the room was busy when he first arrived here it is absolute pandemonium now. Everyone starts shouting and asking questions that he can’t even hear over the shouting. Someone with white hair in a suit just came through a door he didn’t even see earlier to stand by the only person not shouting, who -Danny would guess- is the only other adult in this room, witting at the head of the table. He also has black hair and blue eyes, and where almost everyone else’s reaction was panic, he froze instead. The person across from Danny also isn’t shouting, but the person next to Danny on his right has now fully stood up and looks like he might actually jump across the table to win the argument he ended up in. 

“Are you Jason’s soulmate?” is the main gist of the shouting that Danny can interpret but he’s more concerned with actual Jason at the moment. If they switched bodies... Then Jason might be in trouble…

“Hey, I forget, how long is this body swap supposed to last again?” Danny asks.

“Until you and Jason have physical contact. You have to actually meet.” The boy sitting across from him explains. He seems like one of the only ones that heard Danny talk, everyone else was still shouting. 

“Oh, that just seems terrible. What if we’re in different countries or something?” Danny complained. “Everyone in the world is just supposed to be able to drop everything and afford to fly across the world. The universe is really trying to screw people over now. Honestly, am I in a different country? Where even are we right now?”

“You’re in Gotham.” This voice was new, coming from the head of the table to Danny’s right. 

“Oh no. Nope.” Danny started backing away from the table, almost tripping on his overturned chair. “Absolutely not, no, how do I get out of here?” He starts earnestly looking for a door to get out of this place, but there are three doors he can see and he has no idea where any of them go, and doesn’t this room have any windows? What kind of a room doesn’t have any windows? Do they like to eat in a basement?

“Jason- not Jason. Uh, you need to calm down, everything will be fine alright, We’ll get you and Jason introduced no problem.” Danny swivels to track the voice and it’s the one who was sitting next to him, he’s walking towards him with his hands up and out in front of him. 

“I have to get home.” Danny breathes. 

“We can get you there, promise. Now, I’m Dick, can you tell me your name?”

“Your name is Dick? Who named you Dick?” Danny is so confused he’s stopped panicking. “How old are you for you to go by the name Dick?”

“Okay, rude.” Dick sounds like a petulant child so Danny’s estimations for his age are continuously dropping. “I’m 24.”

Danny snorts. “Okay.” The blond girl starts laughing over at the table. “I’m uh, I’m Danny.”

“Nice to meet you. Sort of. I’m Tim.” The guy from across from him had made it over to stand next to Dick. “There’s a lot of us here today so the one laughing like a hyena is Steph. That one there is Duke.” African-American, still with black hair but he has brown eyes and waves once introduced. “Damian is the short one next to him, and Cass was sitting across from Dick earlier. Our dad, Jason’s dad-” 

“Not my dad!” Steph interrupted. Tim waves her off.

“Everyone but Steph's dad, is over there, Bruce. Alfred, our butler is the one next to him.” Alfred gives a slight nod to his head. Bruce is just staring at him.

“So, names out of the way. You said you wanted to go home, where do you live?”

“Amity Park.”

[obsessedwithceleste]

Fighting Fate (It’s a losing battle)

Theodore Nott x gn!reader

Inspired by, and dedicated to @musingsofahufflepuff

Summary: soulmate!au in which everyone sees in black and white until they meet their soulmate. Bold of fate to assume it can tell you what to do.

word count: 3.1k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Ever since your first day at Hogwarts, you’d been told that you were lucky. A one in a million chance. Exceptional. Because as soon as you’d been sorted, and the sorting hat had been lifted up off of your head, your eyes had met his, and the world had burst into color.

It had been wildly disorientating at first- you almost fainted from the visual overload as the banners over each section of students burst into bright color. As you went to take your seat, you got strange looks from several students, but you never felt his eyes leave you.

You’d always thought it was rubbish. Even at the ripe old age of eleven. Your mother had first explained the idea of soulmates to you as a bedtime story. You remember her explaining how everything looked bland and colorless now because you hadn’t met your soulmate yet. But once you did, the world would come to life.

“When will I meet my soulmate?” You’d asked.

“Well, that’s the catch isn’t it? It’s different for everyone. Some meet their soulmate very young. At school even. But some, some will never meet their soulmate. They can be anywhere in the world, fate doesn’t discriminate.”

You’d scrunched your little nose up in distaste.

“That’s stupid. Why do I have to listen to fate?”

Your mother had only laughed, tucking you in and kissing your forehead goodnight. But the sentiment had remained as you grew up. How could someone really just be meant for you? Ridiculous.

Theo had known that you were going to be his soulmate before fate did. He’d watched silently from his seat on the train as you boarded, a nervous grin on your face as you waved goodbye to your family. You were perfect, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. At least until Mattheo swatted his arm.

“What’re you staring at, mate?” He’d asked loudly, gaining the attention of the other boys in the carriage.

“See them, there?” Theo asked, pointing to where you were boarding. “That’s going to be my soulmate.” He’d announced proudly.

“Yeah, okay mate,” the other boys had laughed, quickly moving on to the next topic.

But Theo didn’t take his eyes off of you until you disappeared through the train doors and off into some unknown compartment.

The next time he saw you was at the sorting ceremony. He watched as you confidently made your way up to the front, the smile never leaving your face as McGonagall lowered the hat onto your head. It only took a few moments of deliberation before the hat was being lifted off of your head and Theo’s eyes met yours.

It was like the wind was taken out of him as the room sprung to life, colors swirling around his vision as his eyes raced around the room in awe.

By the end of the night, all of Theo’s friends had been sorted into Slytherin with him. Mattheo, Enzo, Draco, Blaise. Even Crabbe and Goyle.

“I was right on the train. About them being my soulmate,” he’d announced proudly, pointing out different objects and describing the different colors to his friends who wondered in amazement.

You on the other hand, didn’t speak a word of it to anyone until you accidentally let it slip to your mother over break that you could see the pretty colored ornaments strung up on the tree.

She’d been thrilled of course, wanting to know every detail about this soulmate of yours. What did he look like? What house was he? Had the two of you spoken.

You answered each question with less enthusiasm than the one prior, and eventually she got the point and stopped asking.

As soon as the news slipped that Theodore Nott, a child of the sacred twenty-eight, and son of Tiberius Nott no less, could see in color however, it didn’t take long for people to start noticing you. Telling you how lucky you were to have found your soulmate. To be able to see color. As if you wanted a soulmate at eleven years old.

The first few years it was easy to avoid. Being only eleven or twelve, Theo was content admiring you from a far. Third year was when the boy finally got the courage to really try and talk to you for the first time. Sure he’d said hi a few times over the past couple years, but nothing you’d found particularly note worthy. Especially not for someone who was supposedly your soulmate.

“Are you any good at charms?” A voice asks, startling you as you look up from the essay you had been finishing up in the court yard. It was a warm, cloudy day, with only a light breeze, so you’d thought it would be the perfect day to take your studies outside.

You stare up in surprise at the brunette boy in front of you, watching silently as he takes a seat across from you.

In the past, you'd played the avoiding game, quickly scurrying off if you saw the boy or his friends approaching. This year, you hadn't been taking the same precautions, and it seemed Theodore was taking full advantage.

“I’m alright,” you reply hesitantly.

That was a lie. Charms was your best subject, but you were hoping the boy might go away. He didn’t.

"I know that you're top of the class," he responds, staring intently at you with a sly smirk.

That afternoon you begrudgingly helped Theodore with his charms homework, and he happily helped you with your DADA essay. There wasn’t a whole lot of interaction between the two of you, but he wasn’t horrible you supposed. At least he had brain cells to rub together.

After that he kept popping up sporadically throughout your third year.

At quidditch tryouts he'd insisted on partnering with you for several of the drills. You both were offered a place on the team. In the Great Hall he'd seek you out to ask about the homework assignment he'd missed after skiving off of class with Mattheo. The fact that you gave him your notes each time meant nothing. Obviously. And every so often, between the shelves of books in the library, you'd see a flash of soft brown hair, and intense eyes gazing at you before they disappeared as if you were imagining it.

With each increasing encounter, the both of you made idle conversation as you kept the boy at an arms length. It was nothing personal really. In fact the more you thought about it, he seemed perfectly alright. But something in your stubborn thirteen year old self just wanted to stick it to fate. So you continued to ice the boy out.

Theodore however, was nothing if not determined. He knew from the moment he saw you that he was meant to be yours, and he’d be damned if he let you slip through his fingers. Thirteen year old Theodore was a stubborn bastard and he knew he was willing to play the long game.

Things grew a bit more complicated in fourth year when you became friends with some of the Slytherin crowd.

It had been an accident really. You’d been reading down by the Black Lake when Daphne Greengrass had stumbled upon you, followed closely by Pansy Parkinson and Lorenzo Berkshire.

“Oh!” she’d said in delight, seeing the book in your hands, “I love that book!”

The two of you ended up talking enthusiastically about the novel for almost an entire hour with Pansy and Enzo butting in every so often to add their thoughts.

“Wait, you’re Theodore’s soulmate aren’t you?” Enzo asks, eventually recognizing you.

You eye the boy cautiously as you nod slowly, suddenly feeling self conscious.

Pansy just wrinkles her nose.

“Sorry you got stuck with such a tosser.” She says.

The four of you are quiet for a moment before your laughter breaks the silence, the other three following shortly after.

After that, you’re integrated into their little group seamlessly. You’d always been a bit of a loner. Sure people would wander up to you often enough to chatter about what it was like to see colors, but that was really all people wanted to know about you. Like it was some trivial party trick.

It was nice having your own friends to study with and wander about Hogsmeade with on the weekends. It was nice to have people who liked being around you simply for being you. Not because some magical force had decided to bind you to a whole other human and grant you the ability to see color.

It didn’t take long for Theo to notice you hanging about more frequently. How could he not? You were so pretty. So smart and witty. So perfect. He was just so happy to have you around more often. Even if it wasn’t to spend time with him specifically.

He reveled in any little morsel of information that he could scrape up from your friends. Your favorite color, your favorite sweets at Honeydukes, your class schedule. Theo was willing to admit the last one was a bit weird, but he was really just hungry to learn anything he could about his elusive soulmate.

Soon enough, it didn’t become unusual for Theodore and Mattheo to join the four of you on your little excursions. Popping up at the Black Lake, or meeting up with you at the Three Broomsticks. He was just always there. As if he was making a point of it. And begrudgingly you began to let him in.

A friend of your friends was okay you thought. Wouldn’t hurt to get to know him a bit. That wasn’t crossing any lines.

For Theo however, this was huge. He was finally getting somewhere. Even if you weren’t ready for any sort of romantic relationship, he was going to be the best damn friend you’d ever had.

By fifth year, there was simply no denying it. Theodore Nott was your best friend. You weren’t really sure how it had happened. The two of you just fit so well together. He had truly wormed his way into your life.

It had started with the study sessions.

"Remember when you helped me with charms in third year?" He'd asked. "I got top marks on that assignment."

As those became more frequent, it had turned into afternoons by the lake with both of you deep in your own novels, but sharing the comfortable silence.

Then it had morphed into weekends at Hogsmeade. Your friends thought they were being subtle when they consistently slipped away, leaving you and Theo to wander about the village. You couldn't find it in yourself to mind though.

You’d tried to keep him at an arms length. You really had. But Enzo couldn’t make you laugh as hard as you did with Theo. And Daphne just wasn’t the intellectual match that Theo was. And Pansy always made sure you let loose sure, but being around Theo was just- freeing.

You still weren’t sold on the whole soulmate thing though. Sure Theo was great. Perfect even. But you just couldn’t shake the icky feeling of blindly trusting fate to decide your life.

Then it happened. No one was expecting it. Especially not Pansy. But you and Pansy and Draco and Theo had all been working late on a potions assignment before dinner, and on your way back up from the dungeons, Pansy ran smack into a certain platinum haired Ravenclaw. You’d later find out that her name was Luna Lovegood. As soon as their eyes met, Pansy stumbled, leaning into you for support. You already knew what was happening as her eyes darted around wildly.

“Oh. I suppose we’re soulmates then aren’t we?” The girl said, a dreamy look overtaking her.

It all seemed too easy for them after that. It was like a flip had switched and the two were just mad for each other. A picture perfect example of what soulmates should be.

You found it to be slightly horrifying how blindly trusting fate could severely change a person and their relationship with an essential stranger.

Theo however, couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. He had what? Almost five whole years on Pansy, and was lucky to get a friendly hug out of his soulmate. Yet Pansy and Luna were inseparable after only a few short weeks.

Not that Theo thought he was entitled to your affection necessarily. But it would be nice if you’d at least acknowledge the bond you two shared he thought.

“Why don’t you believe in soulmates?” Daphne asks one night.

It was one of those rare nights where it was only you, Daphne, Pansy, and Enzo huddled together wrapped in thick, warm blankets inside Daphne and Pansy’s dorm room. Salazar knows where Millicent was off spending her night. A bottle of shared fire whisky sat between you and packs of chocolate frogs littered the floor.

You blink in surprise at your friend’s question. You didn’t talk about soulmate stuff much.

“I do believe in them,” you say with a simple shrug.

“Yeah but you don’t really believe in them, ya know? Why?” She pushes.

You pause again, glancing at Pansy who was looking back at you intently.

“I don’t know. I guess I just don’t like the idea of someone deciding to be with me, just because they’re supposed to.” You say finally.

“I suppose I know what you mean.” Pansy murmurs after a moment.

You look at the girl in surprise and can tell the other two are shocked as well.

“Don’t get me wrong. I adore Luna. Really. I always tell her that I’m so glad that fate put us together. But then sometimes I wonder. If it weren’t for fate, would I have even given her a second glance that day I bumped into her in the corridor?”

There’s a silent lull as your group mulls over Pansy’s words before slowly drifting off to a new topic.

In another dorm, not so far off, Theo lay on his bed staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“Think they’ll come around soon?” Mattheo asks, sensing his roommate’s building tension.

“I dunno. But I’ll wait,” he replies, closing his eyes and letting images of you flood his mind. “They’re worth it.”

That night as you’re leaving to return to your dorm, Enzo catches your arm, pulling you off to the side.

“You can never tell Theo that I told you this, but the first time I met Theo, we were on the train waiting to leave for Hogwarts and he pointed out the window to a someone and said ‘they’re going to be my soulmate’. Then, at the sorting ceremony he got all dizzy all the sudden, and when we got to the common room, he said that he’d been right about who his soulmate would be. You. Just thought you should know.”

And with that, he’s gone.

It’s after that that you really begin to see Theo. You’d never really given him a fighting chance. But now, you kind of wanted to.

It’s the beginning of sixth year when Theo finally notices the shift. Notices you actually seeking him out on purpose, not flinching away when your hands brush, eyes hovering on his lips a bit too long for it to be accidental. And to say that he is ecstatic.

Meanwhile you were silently kicking yourself for taking so long to get over your petty bullshit with fate. Sure you still didn’t love the idea of it all, but after spending enough time with Theo, you could really, truly see the appeal.

After that night in fifth year, you began noticing how Theodore was one of the only students who could keep up with your academic prowess. He could always sense when you were tired, or stressed, or simply in a mood, and always did his best to subtly cheer you up. He was always there. Even after all the years you had put him through the wringer, he remained by your side. And that’s what really convinced you.

It’s also what landed you here, at the top of the astronomy tower, with your head in Theodore’s lap as his fingers raked gently through your hair.

It had become a usual meeting spot for the both of you. Theo had brought you up here a week into the school year starting. It was his safe place. His getaway when everything got to be too much, or when he just needed space to think. When those words had left his mouth you had melted. He trusted you. You had meant so much to him for so long, and you couldn't be bothered to give him the time of day.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, eyes gazing out at the swirling navy sky that seemed to stretch on forever.

“For what, amore?”

“Dunno. Making you feel like you weren’t good enough, or makin you feel like a bad soulmate.”

Theo looks down at you, and you meet his steady gaze.

“I knew I was good enough, amore. We wouldn’t be soulmates if we weren’t perfect for each other.” He replies.

You perk up at this. “You think I’m perfect?” You ask, a dopey smile appearing on your face.

Theo just rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he laughs. He'd grown used to your antics. Just another piece of you that he'd grown fond of.

“I said that we’re perfect together. But you’re perfect too I suppose.”

It hadn’t taken nearly as long as you had expected to reach this point. It seemed that Theo had just been waiting for the word to switch on boyfriend mode. All it took was one spontaneous, heated make out session in his dorm room, and you had the boy wrapped around your finger. (He already had been for years, but you didn’t need to know that.)

“Alright. Wrap it up love birds. You better be fully clothed,” Pansy calls, head peeping up from the top of the staircase leading up to the tower. “You two have been up here for hours, and you can’t have them all to yourself Theodore. They were our friend first.”

“Yeah! Time’s up lover boy!” You hear Enzo call.

Theo groans, head falling back as he rises lazily, offering you a hand up.

“I waited five years for this, can’t you guys let me have my moment?” He calls back.

“No!” The chorus replies.

With a laugh, you grab onto Theo’s hand, tugging him towards the stairs.

“C’mon. If we get Mattheo and Enzo drunk enough, they won’t notice if I spend the night,” you say with a cheeky wink.

“I heard that!” Enzo’s voice rings out.

“You wouldn’t say no to me anyway,” you shout back.

With a smile, Theo follows you down the stairs after your rowdy friends, hand wrapped tightly around yours. It had taken him five long years, and he certainly wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.

I'm a sucker for soulmate aus

[themoonchildwhofell]

the elevator

pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

content/warnings: fluff!!, soulmate!au

summary: an AU where you'll see color once you meet your soulmate.

note: hey!!! really wanted to have this written since I've been obsessed with Lizzy Mcalpine's recent album.

"Fuck!" You curse at yourself for sleeping off the 5 alarms you set today. You we're set to meet the head of the Behavioral Analysis Unit for a job opportunity. I mean it wasn't everyday the FBI would offer you a job especially since all you did was login to their server. Okay. I guess "logging in" was a better way of saying it. More like you hacked your way in to gather some information about this weird unsolved crime you listened to in a true crime podcast. It's not your fault you we're wickedly good at coding and that their firewall was ass.

You ran as fast as you can, navigating your way through the horde of people coming and going. Since the world started having soulmates, it was kind of a bummer for you. It started when you just got a pretty mini cooper that you bought with your own savings and was so excited to drive it. Suddenly, the world turned black and white. Everything was dull. You we're kinda expecting it to come when you turn 18 and was shocked that it was 3 years early. Your mom had already told you what will happen and what you needed to do to get back the colors. Since this was an established thing now, a lot of laws were also placed to make sure everyone is safe. One of that would be driving. Since you're now not able to see color, you we're not allowed to drive until you see your soulmate. 10 years later, you still have to push your way through the horde of soulmate-less people the same as you are.

You finally get to the FBI Building in Quantico. As you open the doors, you notice that the elevator was slowly closing in. "Wait!" You shout. Trying to see if the person inside the elevator would stop the doors and wait for you. You sigh a breath of relief as you see the elevator slowly open. You quickly grab your things that you didn't notice fell on the floor when you ran towards the elevator. And ran inside the elevator. You check your phone for the time and see that you still have at least 5 minutes before the meeting starts. You breathe out the air stuck in your lungs not noticing you were holding your breath. You turn to the person who stopped the elevator to thank them.

As soon as you look at the guy beside you, you feel warmth surrounding your whole body. Everything felt like a blur however you didn't feel dizzy. Your eyes start to focus on the most beautiful shade of brown eyes you've ever seen. You try to look around to see if you we're just having a stroke or if this was just a dream. But everything seems to be a lot more vibrant. You we're seeing color again.

"Hi." The man greets you. You turn your head towards him to see the prettiest man you've ever laid your eyes on. He had light brown wavy hair, beautiful eyes, and the nicest smile. "I'm Spencer. I guess we're souimates?"

You smiled back at him and introduce yourself. I guess this wasn't such a bad day after all.

[il-predestinato]

hello beautiful elle

since it is going to be a long 3 months without our boys could you please recommend some fics that you liked? cause i really like your writings and how realistic they are and i wanted to get some of you suggestions for the break!

love you loads

Thank you, lovely anon, for your very kind message! 🥺 I must admit I have fallen behind in reading fics. I am sure I am forgetting some excellent Lestappen fics/writers, but these are some of my all-time favourites!

Lestappen Fic Recs:

And in the end I will seek you out amongst the stars by mandzilkos (@geeeooorrrge) - rating: G, 22k words

Soulmate AU where you see in black and white until you meet your soulmate, and the world goes back to black and white after your soulmate dies. This is ALWAYS the first Lestappen fic that comes to mind whenever anyone asks for a recommendation, and it is probably my all-time favourite. The fic that inspired me to write Lestappen, if I'm honest.

getting half of you just ain't enough by shybear_styles - rating: E, 20k words

The friends with benefits story that spans the 2019 season. The only thing better than amazing smut is amazing smut with feels. For sure a top 5 fic in the Lestappen fandom for me. Also, this author is simply amazing in general and you should read all of her fics! I haven't given up hope that she will return one day and write more Lestappen. 🤧

you feel the mornin' feel by shybear_styles - rating: M, 3.3k words

Remember that time Sebastian Vettel asked Charles, "Is he [Max] pretty?" And we never got an answer because Charles descended into gay panic? Well, worry not! We get an answer in this fic.

Monaco Malaise by ProngsfootxJily (@cupidskissx) - rating: E, 8k words

Rivals with benefits, takes place after the 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Yes, this one is delicious smut but also a character study. Both of them are written so well, and it leaves you begging for more. Don't forget to check out the equally amazing sequel! (Don't worry, I have been relentlessly harassing her to write the sequel's sequel.)

algorithm by Anney (@badboy-george) - rating: M, 17k words

In a world where F1 uses simulation-based compatibility tests, five times Max doesn't find the right partner and the one time he does. Black Mirror ("San Junipero" and "Hang the DJ") vibes in the best way. Another one of my absolute favourite fics. If you've read any Lestappen fics, you've probably read "Every Other Sunday." This one is simply a masterpiece by the immensely talented Anney; definitely check out her other fics!

panem et circenses by Anney - rating: E, 13.2k words

Wow - simply devastating, haunting, an ode to these two as drivers, set in a dystopian future AU. The world building is absolutely incredible, but at its heart is such a beautiful story of love and hope. This one doesn't get enough recognition. (TW: implied non-con, not between Lestappen.)

Unlearn by wantinghopingwriting (Tazza1993) (@lightsoutfullhearts) - NR, 45k words

This is another all-time favourite, a must-read. Fake/pretend relationship to lovers multi-chapter story that is ever so satisfying; both of them are so well characterized. Set in a parallel-ish 2022 season. I really cannot recommend this one enough.

the edge of what can be loved by Ledger_m (@the-last-jedis) - rating: T, 13k words

The third wheel fic from the perspective of Max and Charles' various "Steves." It's funny, heartwarming, and everyone on the grid is nosy as fuck.

Charles Leclerc vs Red Bull caps by Ledger_m - rating: T, 6.4k words

Charles is the hero we all need, as he goes on a mission to get rid of all of Max's stupid Red Bull caps. This is REQUIRED reading! Kami is a genius. Go read all of her fics.

If You Don't Play, You'll Never Win by antimonyandthyme (@antimonyandthyme) - rating: T, 4.1k

Post 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Max wants to take their relationship further; Charles... doesn't. Oh my God, where do I begin to describe how much I love this fic. The language is beautiful, both of them are so well-written, and I feel punched in the gut over and over again in the best way. The ending (well, the whole thing) is so damn satisfying.

all's well that ends well (to end up with you) by stylestappen (@stylestappen) - rating: G, 3k words

Max has a meltdown in the cereal aisle (yes, the cereal aisle) at 3 am when he realizes he is in love with Charles despite the latter's questionable taste in cereal. Dani has an absolutely wicked sense of humour! (Although I don't understand what she has against cocoa puffs 😭.) She also wrote a banger of a Lestappen soon-to-be teammates fic, so make sure to check out her profile.

Max Verstappen: Spotify Extraordinaire by frnndtorres - rating: G, 26k words

Max makes Spotify playlists for the grid. Fluffy, funny, care-free, liberal use of nicknames, with a healthy dose of feels between Max and Charles. A really fun read.

i love the way your green eyes mix with that malibu indigo by altissimozucca (@altisssimozucca) - rating: G, 11k words

Max and Charles spend summer of 2020 together in Malibu and try not to fall in love. Spoiler alert: they fall in love. I feel the urge to explain something: When I first started reading Lestappen, there were less than 250 fics in their entire tag (yeah I know, we are currently close to 3000 fics, which is insane). From 2019-2021, we truly lived off crumbs. So trust me when I say that we owe so much to altissimozucca, who wrote something like 40% of the fics in the Lestappen tag and nearly single-handedly kept us fed in those days. It's so hard to pick one of her fics to recommend, so make sure you check out her profile for more!

#803442 by altissimozucca - rating: M, 1k words

Max and Charles celebrate the end of the 2019 season in a hotel room. So soft, so fluffy, so satisfying.

Bruises by eefiplier - rating: E, 5.1k words

I think of this one as THE Lestappen smut fic. Oh my God, it's 5k words of amazing established relationship smut with all the feels. A classic. I can read this one over and over again.

outside the box by playclock (@endowataru) - rating: M, 6.1k words

Max falls in love with Charles' driving... oh and Charles himself too. They are ultra competitive idiots who are madly in love. There aren't enough established relationship fics out there, but this one is simply amazing. And don't forget to check out this author's profile for additional Lestappen fics. I promise every single one is a banger!

i made it link by link by purpleglasseswrites (@f-ferrari-forever) - rating: M, 4.2k words

Charles and Max try to be kinky, but who are they kidding - they are far too vanilla for that stuff. 🤣 This one is so sweet, and don't forget to read the sequel!

One man's trash, another man's treasure by AzziNow (@track-terror-apologist) - rating: T, 4.2k words

Charles turns into a raccoon and terrorizes everyone except Max. (Well, he terrorizes Max too... slightly.)

Call it madness, call it love… by AzziNow - rating: M, 3.5k words

Ferrari auctions off Charles for charity. No angst, just fluff. Alpha!Max/Alpha!Charles. So I confess that I never read A/B/O fics. There's nothing wrong with it - just not my cup of tea. But I really enjoyed this one. Al has such a chaotic sense of humour.

it all reminds me of you by grandprix (@grandprix-ao3) - rating: E, 3k words

Secret relationship Lestappen with flashbacks. Oh the yearning, the desire, the smut - incredibly satisfying. I must put a plug-in for this author's other Lestappen fics as well. Never misses - make sure to check them out!

burning you into my mind by thightattoos - rating: E, 4.1k words

Porn with feels and possessiveness. You cannot ask for anything more. I must have read this one a dozen times.

an evil plan or two by witchee_writer - rating: T, 5.2k words

Max and Charles are roped into a plan to get Brocedes back together; they come to a few realizations along the way. The only thing better than a Lestappen fic? A Lestappen AND Brocedes fic!

Fine Line by empireoffclouds - rating: NR, 7k words

One of the more light-hearted enemies to friends to lovers fics. I absolutely adore their dynamic here - it's snarky, warm, but also so them. The incomplete sequel is also a super fun read.

Into Darkness Of Thought by flamingosarepink - rating: T, 1k words

After the 2019 Japanese Grand Prix, Charles thinks Max isn't coming back to their shared space.

steal softly under castle walls by untouchableocean - rating: G, 521 words

Max gets home late from Milton Keynes and Charles has already fallen asleep. Short, tooth-rooting fluff of the best kind.

Zoomies by greeny1710 (@maxlambiase) - rating: E, 2.2k words

This one is just hilarious. A (mostly) naked Max walks into Charles' team Zoom call during the COVID lockdown.

...and many, many more that I'm sure I have forgotten! 🙈 You can also check out my AO3 bookmarks (the first few pages are pretty much all Lestappen fics).

Please remember to leave kudos and comments for these amazing writers. The talent in this fandom is absolutely incredible. They all deserve so much recognition. Happy reading!

[kurokens]

In The Night I Miss You | Satosugu

anime/manga: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru & geto suguru

words: 1.5k

pronouns: they/them

request: none

notes: sorry for the wait!!! but part 2 of In The Middle, my first satosugu piece, is finally here! a little bit more angsty this time and from satosugu's pov

not proof read

song rec: The Night I Miss You - Lee Changsub

genre: hurt comfort, fluff, slowburn, a little bit angsty, poly?

warnings: satosugu are in a loving relationship, misunderstanding, pinning, a lot of pinning on satosugu's end, reader is so oblivious, insecure and self conscious reader

Satoru and Suguru were quite the pair, always together since they can remember, as if fate created them for each other. Two pieces of a puzzle fitting perfectly together. They knew that, hell, everyone around them and their mother knew that. And yet, they both felt like something was missing, they spent years happily loving each others, and they never stopped, but they couldn't help but feel some kind of longing for something more.

At first it drove them crazy, how could they feel like that when they already had everything they ever dreamed of? They're both each others soulmate, and yet it's not enough, not anymore, not since they met you. You came and wrecked their perfect little world. You and your stupid smile, you and your stupid laugh, you and your stupid kindness, you and your stupid gentleness, just you and your stupid self. It was such a hard time for them to accept these feelings, especially with the growing guilt towards each others, clueless about the other similar torment. Until one day, the cat got out of the bag. "Say sugu..." The white-haired man started softly, a gentle hum coming back from his lover. "Are you satisfied? I mean, with us? Our couple?"

"Why? Yes, of course. Is something the matter? Have I done anything to make you think otherwise?" Suguru exhaled through a trembling breath.

"No, god no. It's just, god, how do I say this without sounding selfish. Have you ever felt like something was missing?" Satoru breathed out, closing his eyes in shame.

"You mean, like someone?" The black-haired man whispered shakily causin Gojo to spring up from his previous position, biwildered eyes meeting the ones he was ashamed to look at earlier.

"I didn't, I didn't say that, I mean not exactly, but, but maybe? Do you?" He murmured, a glint of hope in his orbs.

"Do you?" Suguru asked, just as hopeful.

"Yes, god, yes. I'm so sorry Sugu, I love you, I do, I promise. Like I've never loved anyone, but lately I've felt this way and I don't know why, and I didn't know how to tell you. Please tell me you do too. I can see it in your eyes, you do too right?" Satoru begged, his hands now clamped on the sheets below him.

"Yes, I do. God I was so scared to tell you, I'm so glad you feel it too. Oh, I'm so glad." Geto let out, his breathing calming down as well as his nerves. "You're thinking about someone in particular are you not?" He continued, reaching out to take Gojo's hands in his, easing down his stress.

"Yes..." He answered, tightening his grip around Geto's hands. "Do you?" Only receiving a nod along with the brightest smile he's ever seen his lover give him. "It's them, right?" Another nod came his way, just as he was pulled into a hug. "I'm so glad you feel the same. I was so scared. I thought I would lose you if I said anything, I don't want to lose you." He sobbed, finally letting out all the repressed feelings he's been having for the past couple of days.

Suguru stayed quiet, nuzzling his head into his lover's neck, grateful for the conversation, but also for the fact that they both felt the same. Of course the universe wouldn't betray them like that. They were soulmates, and it was destiny for both of them to fall for you, and maybe it was how it was always meant to be, not just them, but the three of you. And Suguru was more than content with this idea, he wished nothing more but to be able to share this overwhelming love with you as well. But he knew it would take time, it's not something they could act on just like that. They needed to proceed slowly, they didn't want to scare you, let alone lose you. Hell, losing you would shatter them, they could handle rejection just fine, but not having you in their life anymore just wasn't possible.

That's why Suguru had to physically stop Satoru from screwing this up. It was quite hard for the white-haired man child to refrain himself from acting on his desire to confess to you, and make you theirs. Since you lived with them, seeing you everyday and not being able to love you like he truly did, was the worst hardship he ever had to face. He wasn't used to not getting what he wanted, so having to wait for you to be theirs was proper torture. Don't get him wrong, it was also very hard for Suguru, but he knew they had to do this properly, and one of them had to be strong, because Satoru sure wasn't going to be. And because of that they would regularly have the same conversation in their room late at night, or early in the morning because it's when they were yearning for you the most. In the comfort of their bed.

"I dont know for how much longer I can do this Sugu..." Satoru sighed, burying his head in his lover's chest, muffling his next words. "They're so pretty, and so nice, and so caring, I love them so much. I would give anything to crush them between us right now."

"Me neither love, but there is nothing much we can do about it.They live with us." His black haired lover replied, laughing at his antics.

"I know, ugh I know, but it's getting so much harder everyday. Seeing them is becoming unbearable. I can't stand it anymore, we need to do something." He went on, on the verge of throwing a tantrum because of how much he yearned for you.

"Shh, I know, I feel the same. But we can't just drop this on them all of the sudden and expect it to go well." The oldest reasoned. "We will get there, we just need to take things slow Toru, we can't rush them into something like that."

And he was right, Satoru knew he was right, but it's been weeks and nothing changed. They tried being more affectionate towards you, complimenting you, being a little bit touchier and clingier without crossing any boundaries. Hell, they were looking at you so lovingly you could compare them to teenage boys going through their first ever crush. And yet, nothing changed, you were so clueless, it was driving them insane, but at the same time it was so endearing how oblivious you were to their adoration.

Everyone around you three noticed it, but you. It was quite amusing for your friends, but it was proper torture to them. And Satoru was growing reckless, he could'nt look at you in the eyes anymore, scared he will do something on impulse and regret it later because it could jeopardise your relationship, and your potential future together. Suguru wasn't much better to be fair, he could still look at you, but it was getting harder, and he couldn't bring himself to say anything to you that wasn't a heartfelt confession about their undying love for you, and his need to make you part of their life. So they decided to ton it down a bit, grow some distance between you, just the time for them to get themselves together, and to elaborate the perfect plan to confess to you properly without forcing you into anything. Yes, that was a good plan, or so they thought. Not once have they ever imagined this plan of action could backfire. Because why would it? It was the perfect plan!! Just until it wasn't.

After some time of putting distance between you, (literally a single day, Satoru couldn't more), the couple deciding to put their plan back into action but with a bit more hints being thrown into it. But, unfortunately for them, when they came back from work, the house was oddly silent, not a trace of you to be seen. "Sweetcheek?" Satoru called, walking towards your room, only to be met by complete silence. "Hey gorgeous, you in there?" He knocked, but once again silence was his only answer. So he opened the door, to see if maybe you were sleeping, but you weren't. Your bed was made, but something was off. Your room was clean but it felt like something was missing.

"Sugu, come here real quick." He urged, and Suguru footsteps were quickly heard. "Something isn't right."

They both stood at the entrance of your room, analysing everything, trying to find what was amiss, this odd feeling growing stronger and stronger. And then they spot it, a letter neatly placed on your desk, which read:

'The walls are thins here you know. Anyway don't worry I'll be out of your space soon. Sorry about the stuff I've left there, it's just for the time it takes for me to look for a new place and then I will give you back your much needed space. Thank you for letting me stay this long, and sorry for the trouble I've caused.'

The couple grew livid. Their worst fear became reality, and they didn't know how to fix it, but they knew they had to. And the sooner, the better.

part 3 is out, find it here!!

[ilguna]

☼ breathtaking pt1 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; you thought that you were going to go into the arena without ever meeting your soulmate. little did you know, he's been next to you the whole time.

warnings; swearing

wc; 3.5k

part two.

–

The worst part about the announcement of the Quarter Quell was by far the amount of questions you were asked about it afterwards. In the months leading up to the reaping, all you kept being asked was, “How do you feel?”

In the beginning, you would just stare at them for a second, hoping that they’d realize how stupid they are for asking it in the first place. How do they think you feel? While they’re all grown and get to live the rest of their lives without worrying about dying, you’re having your rights taken away from you yet again.

You aren’t supposed to do this again. Everyone was promised that once they win, they are done with the Hunger Games. They were no longer eligible to go inside, the only time you’d come close would be during mentoring. You’d get to live that week in the Capitol over and over and over again, watching different tributes get reaped, and then die in the arena.

As the reaping drew closer, the question died in their throats. The idea of reminding you about your potential fate made them uncomfortable. They never considered the idea of how irritating it was to answer the question every day of the week and then for it to slowly fizzle out.

You could handle the odds of going back into the arena. With only four girls in District Five, there was a twenty-five percent chance that the name pulled out of the bowl would be yours. It bothered the other girls, but you knew you had to let it go if you wanted to be even remotely happy for what could be your last weeks in your home.

Actually, the part that upsets you the most is the fact you’ll never get to see the world in color, because you haven’t met your soulmate yet. You’ll never get to see the sky, or the trees, or the color of the clothes you wear everyday. All the features that make someone who they are is absent in your sight. You’re left with black, white, and grey.

You thought that you would have years to try and find them. You’re only in your twenties. You were supposed to take over mentoring, which would’ve allowed you to get a better chance at finding your soulmate. 

It was ruined as soon as your name was the one drawn out of the bowl. You felt your heart sink into your stomach, because you weren’t stupid enough to think anyone would volunteer for you. The sighs of relief that came from the other girls was salt in the wound.

For a few hours, you were stupid enough to hope that you’d win, until you saw exactly who was drawn this year. It ended up being the last nail on the coffin. You are going to die inside of the arena, you’re sure of it. That’s why you haven’t taken a single thing seriously this past week.

Why does it matter? Why would sponsors matter? They don’t want you, they want the siblings, they want the volunteers, they want their darlings, and they want the newest trouble. You are just a minor victor in the crowd.

When you were telling your stylist about your pessimistic views, all he could say was that they were entirely justified. The Capitol loves their victor’s unfairly, and then it ruins the chances for the rest of you. Anything that would normally catch the attention of the crowd on a regular Hunger Games is useless here. The parade, the scores, the interview you’re about to do. It’s for nothing.

You trace patterns on the bare skin of your thigh, watching as your prep team and stylist move around the room. They’d briefly gathered a few minutes ago to talk, and ever since they’ve been running around pulling things off the shelves in the closet. You’re guessing it’s jewelry.

Your stylist pulls out one of those protective bags for dresses, except this one is bigger and stuffed with fabric. He unzips it to take a look inside, and you can see the smile come across his face. His eyes dart up to yours, looking at you through the mirror.

“(Y/n),” He begins, coming closer, “I’ve been saving this dress for a special occasion, since I will never be able to use it again in any of my work. Tonight, you will be my muse.”

You give him a slight smile, “Are you sure you don’t want to save it for anything else?”

“I’m sure.” He says, unzipping the bag, “I’m aware you can’t see the color, but you should know that it’s not the most important part. It’s the design.”

Together, he and the prep team work to get the dress out of the bag. It’s a light shade of grey, so you’re going to guess that it’s a pastel color. It’s uncommon for stylists to go for something so gentle, because the lights on the stage tend to wash the tributes out. That’s why the colors are bright and hard, so they can pop and shine.

You think that it’s going to be some small dress, but the fabric never stops. There’s so much of it. He tosses the dress bag off to the side, and then unzips the back for you to get into. It takes a minute, they have to adjust and pin the dress where it’s too big or too small. By the end, you can’t even tell that it’s been altered.

One of the prep team members gets to work on fluffing the dress, while the other fixes your hair, and then gets to work on putting the jewelry on you. She focuses on your earrings and the necklaces on your collarbone to make sure they’re positioned perfectly. They get you in heels, and then your stylist shuffles in front of you to settle something on the top of your head.

You’re ordered to close your eyes until you’re in front of the mirror and finishing touches are made. They fix your makeup, and then spray something wet and sweet smelling on your skin. You’re guessing it’s perfume, but as soon as you open your eyes and sway slightly, your skin sparkles.

The dress is floor length, off the shoulder but with long and loose sleeves to keep you from getting cold while waiting for your turn to be interviewed. And the object he snuggled in your hair is a tiny tiara that sparkles with your skin each time you move.

You run your hand over the gorgeous patterned lace, letting out a breath, “What color is it?”

“Pink.” He says, coming over to stand behind you, “A gentle and loving pink, one that resembles innocence and beauty.” He fixes a curl, “It’s light and uplifting, and it looks beautiful on you.”

“Thank you.” You smile.

“You’re good to go out, (Y/n). I believe in you.” He says.

You wander out of the room and down the hall, absently tracing one of the closest flowers while you near the line to the stage. The other victor’s are in varying outfits. This year, District Two is subjected to looking like gladiators, the Ritchson siblings are eye-catching in their sequin outfits. Johanna Mason wears a long dress, but she doesn’t look out of place.

A few eyes land on you as you draw closer, but they don’t linger longer for more than a second. They don’t care, a victor from District Five is anything but a threat to them at this point. You’re sure half of them have already decided how they’re going to get rid of you in the arena. And if they haven’t, it’s because they know they can take you in a fight. There’s no use planning it.

It’s only a few minutes later, when the entire hallway is going completely silent. You look over to see Katniss, dressed in a large wedding dress. You should’ve guessed, that was the whole obsession after their Victory Tour. Of course, her stylist would try one more thing to catch the Capitol’s attention.

“I can’t believe Cinna put you in that thing.” Finnick says, there’s a look of bewilderment on his face.

“He didn’t have any choice. President Snow made him.” Katniss defends.

Cashmere flickers her hair over her shoulder, “Well, you look ridiculous!” She spits, taking Gloss’ hand and walking off with him to stand at the front of the line.

You swallow, closing your eyes. You don’t know how you’re going to survive this, really. You know nothing about any of these people, except for what you’ve seen on the screen. You’re at a severe disadvantage compared to the other female victor’s back home. At least they got to talk to half of these people.

The only two victor’s that feel the same way you do must be Katniss and Peeta, but even they’re fitting in more than you are.

You resist the urge to rub down your face, but you do let out a slight huff. You guess you’ll just have to resort to hiding in the arena, even though you didn’t win through that strategy. You mostly fucked around with trying to set off traps and force the gamemakers to accidentally kill the tributes for you. It worked, it’s why you’re standing here today. 

That’s not going to fly in the arena, though. These people have watched your games, the same way you watched theirs. All strategies are on the table, which means that you’ll need to figure out how to camouflage and hide, immediately. 

Cashmere and Gloss lead the way onto the stage, and one by one, you make your way to the seats at the back of the stage. The audience is loud, cheering and whistling. The lights are blinding, you squint through them, relaxing your face when you’re adjusted to the brightness.

You tuck the dress beneath you before you sit down, as soon as you’re planted in your seat, you can feel the nerves in your stomach settle. You haven’t been on a stage in a few years, you remember hating every minute of it. From the parade, to your face being shown for scores, to all the interviews and speeches you did after you won. You hated every second of it.

Caesar’s hair is a different color, it’s some type of grey, so you’re thinking it’s a muted color. You know that he changes it every year, you wish you could see, because you’re sure he looks fantastic every time. He’s been hosting the Hunger Games for a long, long time. That’s a lot of colors to go through, repeating or not.

He does his usual opening-interview spiel with the audience by cracking a few jokes and getting them in a fun mood. From what you’ve heard from your mentors, the citizens of the Capitol are torn between hating the Quarter Quell and adoring it. It’s clear on why; most of the favorites are here. It’s a shame they don’t know how much power they hold.

Cashmere starts the interviews with a speech on how she’s been crying ever since she was chosen. She’s so heartbroken over the fact that the Capitol is suffering because of how many victor’s they’re losing to the games. Gloss follows up with talking about how they’ve been so kind to them ever since they won, and it’s been a pleasure mentoring since.

Enobaria expresses how sad she is that she won’t be able to experience the Capitol’s wonders, since there’s more to live through. She was hoping to get more body modifications and possibly become one of their featured darlings, or a modeling icon for the people back home. 

Beetee does his intelligent rambling, talking about how the Quarter Quell is technically illegal and it shouldn’t exist in the first place. He asks if the experts—Gamemakers—have considered this and examined it as of late. You watch as Wiress goes up and backs him up calmly, explaining that this isn’t fair.

When Mags takes the stage, it’s filled with Caesar guessing what she’s trying to say, but you can tell that she’s outraged, too. She’s too old for this, and yet she volunteered to come to save a girl she mentored. Finnick talks through a bright smile, and when Caesar asks if he’s got anything to say, his eyes darken. He proceeds to recite a love poem that’s clearly talking about his home district and how he might not get to see it ever again. It’s misinterpreted and too many people in the crowd think it’s aimed at them. 

“For District Five, we have the lovely (Y/n) (L/n)!” Caesar shouts, hand held out in your direction.

You get to your feet with a smile, heading toward the front of the stage. You place your hand in his, he squeezes your knuckles, “Hello, Caesar.”

“Hello!” He laughs, looking over what you’re wearing, “Well, don’t you look pretty! I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like this before on stage.”

“My stylist was saving it for a special day, and that’s tonight, I suppose. I was just as surprised as you are.” You look out to the audience.

“Yes, it has been an interesting night so far.” He agrees, “Tell me, what was going through your mind at the reaping?”

You give a half-shrug, “I was disappointed, if I’m being honest.”

“And why’s that?” He asks.

“Well, I’m sure you can guess.” You shake your head, “I’m sure it’s an honor for some people to be back here again and have the opportunity to compete, but I’m losing out on one of the most important parts about living.”

“Let me guess, getting to mentor tributes?” He smiles.

You shake your head again, “No Caesar, it’s getting to see color.”

There’s enough gasps at once that makes your smile inwardly. You know what the other victor’s are trying to do, so you’ll help them. Even if they don’t invite you into their alliances, you’re with them on this. You don’t want the Quarter Quell to happen. You want to go home. That’s why you’ll expose yourself to the Capitol, because you’ve heard how colorful they are. They’ll eat up the idea of living this long without seeing color, ever.

Caesar gapes for a second, “You haven’t found your soulmate yet?”

You look out, “I will never get to see the Capitol the way the rest of you do. I hear the buildings are brightly colored, I hear how gorgeous the clothes are. And I will never get to experience that, because it’s being taken away from me.”

You can feel the tears build in your eyes. They’re partially real, because all you’ve ever wanted was to see the world the way your parents did. They saw real beauty everywhere they looked, and you saw nothing. And you will see nothing, until the day you die in the arena.

You hard blink to force the tears down your face, throat clogging. You have to play it up for them, otherwise they won’t care. You take a few seconds to dab at the corners of your eyes, with Caesar comforting you. The citizens are eating it up, there’s a few of them crying, you can’t see them past the light in your eyes, but you can hear them out there.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n).” Caesar squeezes your hand.

“I am too.” You sniff, fanning your face, “For what it’s worth, I think the city is beautiful without color, too.”

The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of your interview. There’s shouts complaining over how short it felt. You kiss the tips of your fingers and blow a kiss to the crowd before turning away and walking back to your seat. You struggle to hold in the smile that wants to break over your face.

The next few interviews are just as brutal. Johanna questions whether or not the creators can do anything about it. They never anticipated that the Capitol and the victors would form such a bond. Cecelia does a number by saying goodbye to her kids on camera, which has the whole audience in tears.

Seeder’s calm when she says that Snow is considered powerful. If he is, then certainly he can change the fate of the Quarter Quell, right? Chaff comes in swinging, reciting the same thing as Seeder but enforcing the idea that Snow must not care about the way his people feel.

And then Katniss walks to the front and the audience is in shambles. She’s unable to speak for several minutes, and by the tame she can, she’s speaking about her wedding. How none of them will be able to attend it, now that she’s been reaped for another Hunger Games, but Snow wanted to show them what could’ve happened.

She starts twirling like she did last year, except the minor flames from the year before have turned into large ones. They consume the end of the dress and eat away at the layers, until it reaches her shoulders, and suddenly the flames are gone. You’re left staring at a black dress with feathers. When she stretches her arms out, wings appear. 

Katniss’ interview ends almost a minute later, and she takes her seat. This allows Peeta to come to the front of the stage, where they go back and forth being comical. Caesar changes the topic to the Quell once he sees an opportunity to, and there the mood slowly spirals downward.

He says that he and Katniss are already married, and they did it privately while they could because they wanted the moment to be theirs. Then he quickly says that it’s unofficial because the traditions back home mean almost nothing to a piece of paper confirming it. Caesar and the crowd eat it up, completely on the edge of their seats.

“As you say, no one could’ve. But I have to confess, I’m glad you two had at least a few months of happiness together.” Caesar says. There’s a round of applause, Katniss briefly looks up from her dress.

“I’m not glad,” Peeta suddenly ays, “I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially.”

There’s a shock that goes through Caesar, he doesn’t say anything for a second, “Surely even a brief time is better than no time?”

“Maybe I’d think that, too, Caesar,” Peeta spits, “if it weren’t for the baby.”

Silence.

The words sink in the air, but as people get to their feet, shaking their fists, voices raised and screaming about injustice, it sparks others to follow. It’s not long before the whole audience is a wreck and nothing but an indiscernible noise. Caesar stands there dumbfounded, speaking into the microphone but not gathering any attention.

You press your lips together to hide the smile cracking at the corners of your lips.

Caesar’s trying to get the crowd to calm down, chaos has broken out. There’s no point in saying anything once the anthem begins to play. The volume’s so loud that you can feel it in your chest when the deeper parts play. It lets you know that it’s time to get to your feet to say goodbye on the program.

You lace your fingers in front of you, but quickly notice that others are not doing the same. As you look down the line of victors to your left, where Peeta is at the end, you can see that they’re holding hands, and your district partner has his palm open to do the same. 

You grab his hand, and turn to Finnick, who has this little smile on his face, hand held up for you to take. You carefully place your hand on top of his, he’s quick to lace his fingers with yours. You squeeze tightly, hoping for some reassurance, and find him squeezing back.

When you look up to the crowd, your face twists. The light is just as strong, but you can tell what’s beyond it, because it’s no longer a sea of different shades of black, white and grey. They’re in color, they’re bright, and they almost hurt your eyes from the shades they’re wearing.

You gasp, tears filling your eyes when you look out. You remember what your stylist said about the dress you’re wearing, and look down at it. Gentle, loving, innocent, beauty, light and uplifting pink. He was right. He dressed you as a princess for these people.

You tear your eyes away to finally, finally look at Finnick, your soulmate. The reason why you’re seeing these colors. You’re met with bright and breathtaking eyes, watching your face with a crooked smile. You can’t help the laugh that comes from you as the tears overflow your eyes. 

“It’s you.” You breathe.

“It’s me.” He agrees.

[choiseungcheolprincess]

More Than Friends// Choi Seungcheol

Bestfriend!Choi Seungcheolxafab!Black!Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: You've been best friends for years. You can't imagine life without him. You don't know when the lines blurred, but you start to wonder are you the only one who feels this way?

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warning: Spit play, Praising, Fingering, Oral Use of nicknames (good girl, princess, baby girl)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🔞

A/N: Helloooo! Enjoy, like, and repost whatever you feel is right!- Cherry 🍒

I've been friends with Seungcheol for a while. He's been there for me when I needed him the most after the conversation at his apartment. The guy just finished practicing and wanted to eat and have drinks. Cheol called me and asked if I wanted to join them. I said yes of course. We were all sitting there listening to the stories of how Hoshi is intimidating while practicing for this comeback. I got up to get some food until Cheol stopped me and made me sit back down and made me a plate of food. 

"You guys operate like a couple," Jeonghan said sipping his beer. Everyone hummed agreeance. Seungkwan looked at me. 

"Your friendship dynamic changed. All we are saying is something changed." 

"What if you guys are soul mates!" Soonyoung said. I laughed 

"What is it with you and the soulmates theory Soonyoung?" 

"I mean everyone has one, platonic or romantic. What if you and Seungcheol Hyung are romantic soulmates" 

"Ignore him he's drunk," Mingyu said

"Am not!" Soonyoung said pouting then turning to Wonwoo to kiss him. Wonwoo just patted him on the head. 

No one said anything else, I knew they were right. I just don't know what happened to make the lines blurred. Was it before or after I found out my ex-boyfriend was cheating on me? That was six months ago: 

Me and my boyfriend were supposed to meet up for a date until he canceled on me. He said he had a bad day at work so I decided to go to his house and cook him some food. That was until I got to his apartment only to find him in bed with a co-worker. Heartbroken and unable to see through the tears. I called Cheol who immediately came to get me. Of course, my ex-boyfriend follows me out of the building at the exact time Cheol is pulling up and getting out of the car. 

"Oh of course you call him! You can't get mad at me for cheating when something is going on between you too!" He shouted out. Cheol helped me get into the car and then turned around to face the pathetic excuse of a man. I don't know exactly what was said, but seeing Cheol angry was not something you see all the time, but when he is. It's scary. After watching my ex-boyfriend's face change Cheol walked away and got into the car without saying a word and drove off. Playing with my bracelet trying to calm down, Cheol grabbed my hand and glanced over. 

"Are you okay, Princess?" He said softly. I shrugged. He pulled into an empty parking lot when tears began running down my face unbuckling his seat beat then leaned his seat back

"Cheol what are you doing?" I questioned he just ignored me, picking me up and over the center console and onto his lap allowing me to cry in his shirt, which was white. 

"Your shirt has makeup all on it," I said, sniffing. 

"I don't care, you need someone to cry on, and I'm here. If you care so much I'll take it off" He said I hit his shoulder making him laugh. One of his hands was placed on my back and the other was running through my hair. When I was done crying I got back into the passenger side, laughing at the stain on his shirt. 

"I'm sorry, about your shirts Cheollie" He looked down seeing the light stain on his shirt. He just laughed along with me. 

"Let's get some food and you can stay at mine tonight," He said I nodded. 

"Sounds good" 

Was that when everything changed? Or was it always like that and I just just just noticed now? Cheol's always been affectionate. His love language is gift-giving and physical touch. He does it with everyone. Was it when your boyfriend forgot your birthday and didn't show up to your dinner but Cheol made sure that you knew he remembered? Especially when he pulled out the jewelry box

"Happy Birthday Y/n" The open box in front of me showed a pinky ring. It was white gold and wrapped in white and pink diamonds. 

"S-seungcheol..." I whispered he just smiled at me gently taking the ring out of the box and sitting next to me tilting the ring a little so I could see the engraving on the inside 'To my princess, my best friend Y/N' and grabbing my hand to the ring on my pinky 

"Y/N-ah, You are one of my best friends. You have seen me at my best and my worst. When you heard of my injury you dropped everything just to be by my side. You ensured I wasn't lonely when everyone went on Nana's tour and I thank you for that. I can never repay you for everything you did for me, but I hope this is a start." 

I was playing with the ring on my pinky. Seungcheol comes back with food. I was placing it on the table in front of us. He handed me some chopsticks. 

"I thought we could share if that's okay" He whispered as I nodded, smiling a little. He sat down next to me. Still, all in my head, he nudges my arm with his shoulder 

“You okay?” He asked me, I just looked at him. When did I start looking at him differently, why haven’t I recognized my feelings for him? 

“Y/n?” I snapped out of my thoughts. I was leaning forward to take a bite of the tteokbokki. 

“Mmm, good,” I said, covering my mouth and chewing. Glaring at Jeonghan and Shua who were laughing. 

I ate in silence. I was listening to how excited they were about their comeback.

“You should do the challenge!”I froze about to eat the pork belly then laughed and shook my head. 

“No way I seen the footwork and there’s no way I can do that” I watched the video of the choreography and the break dance at the end of the song is insane. 

“You can do the bridge,” Seungcheol said they all nodded agreeing with what he said. I would deny it until he looked at me, pleading with his eyes. 

“Okay, teach it to me?” I said looking at him, his eyes softened and he nodded. I smiled taking a sip of water.  One by one everyone started to leave. First Soonyoung and Seungkwan. Shua next, Jihoon soon after. Vernon, Seokmin, and  Minghao, and Junhu. Mingyu and Wonwoo left after they finished their last beer. Jeonghan and Chan were left. Jeonghan looked at Chan who was in his own world at this point and got up Helping the younger and the drunker one up. 

“I’m gonna make sure he gets to his bed,” Jeonghan said leaving me alone with Cheol. We sat in comfortable silence for a moment until he looked at me. 

“You staying the night?” He asked I thought about it for a second then nodded. 

“Can I borrow a shirt?’ I said getting up and walking to his room. Knowing he’ll say yes. I went into his closet and grabbed a shirt, then went to take a shower. After I took a shower, I dried off and put on the shirt. I left the bathroom and found him sitting in the living room. As often as I spent the night in Cheol's apartment, you think I would have extra clothes over here. The only clothes I have are actual day clothes, and undergarments not pajamas, simply because I like wearing his shirts they are big and comfortable. 

“Movie?” I asked

“You pick?” He said. 

“I was gonna tell you to pick” I grabbed the remote, turning the TV on. We both sat down after we cleaned up scrolling through Netflix trying to decide on a movie. 

“Hmmm, do we have to watch a movie?” I asked not finding anything interesting enough to watch and taking the remote from my hands and clicking on the TV Show category. 

“Have you started watching Bridgerton?” He asked glancing over at me. 

“Have you?” I said laughing 

“You know that the only reason I’d watch this is with you,” He said pressing select and starting the first episode of season 3. We sat in silence, Cheol grabbed my legs and rested them on his lap. Running his hand up and my calf  I felt my heart flutter as his finger traced circles on my skin. Eyes focused on the screen. I couldn’t focus on the show anymore, my mind drifted as I felt the warmth of his hands. I felt myself getting turned on as I watched his eyes move up and down my body. I knew I had to stop this, but I couldn't move away.  Episode one is finished now on episode two Halfway through the episode you looked at Cheol. 

‘Tell him..’ a voice inside my head whispered 

“Cheol?” I said making him over at me. 

“Hmm?” He said still rubbing my leg. 

I can do this! I CAN do this right? 

It was the end of the episode and Colin and Pen kissed. I glanced over at Seungcheol who was looking at me. 

“What’s wrong, you’ve been quiet ever since I bought the food out.” He asked I shook my head the words stuck in my throat.  I can do this. I guess. 

“Cheol, I-” I took a deep breath pulling my legs off of him and moving closer to him. He looked concerned. I was playing with the ring on my pinky again. 

“Princess? What’s going on?” He said grabbing my hands. I looked at him biting my lip. Closing my eyes. 

“Seungcheol, we’ve been best friends a long time, right? I can’t imagine my life without you in it if I’m being honest, Cheollie. I don’t know why it took me so long even to realize this but. I-” Stopping to look him in the eyes. 

“I’ve been in love with you for so long. You’re everything I could ever ask for. Caring, protective motivational, and understanding, you take charge when needed and become the one person in my life I know will be there. These last few months being able to be here and be a support system for you watching you work to be back on stage with your members have been inspiring and made in love with you even more. ” 

He just stared at me. No words came out. I could decipher what he was thinking. I slowly moved my hands from his and got up.

“I should go. I’ll see you later?” Moving from him grabbing my phone off the table. His hand quickly grabbed my wrist. Getting looking down at me. 

“Were you going to leave? Without me saying what I have to say. Just gonna run out and pretend those pretty words didn’t come out of that pretty little mouth of yours.” His thumb ran over my lower lip. I sucked in a breath. 

“Princess... I have always been in love with you. Every time I tried to tell you, you were in a relationship or I was dating someone or having a fling, it has always been you baby. The first time you came to watch our concert and just seeing you in the crowd with that smile of yours singing along to all of our songs, you made sure to come to every concert just to show your support not only for me but for my members as well. Every show, every stage when I look at the carats cheering for us, I’m looking for you, you are the one to calm my nerves. You have not only helped me go through one of the toughest times in my life. Babygirl I fell and I fell hard for you ” He stepped closer to me hand on my cheek.  I could feel my heart racing as I looked up into his eyes. He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. I closed my eyes and kissed him back, my, heart full of joy and hope.  We pulled away, our eyes still locked. He smiled and kissed me again, this time more deeply. I melted into his arms. He sat down pulling me into his lap. Cheol kissed me again, this time passionately. I was lost in the moment, my heart racing as I felt his hands exploring my body. His hands on my hips moving them. Letting me grind against him. He bit down on my lip  I let out a moan of pleasure as his tongue slid into my mouth. We fought for dominance, which he won, of course, We pulled away panting. His shirt was over my waist his fingers digging into my skin.  His lips met mine again, this time with more intensity. His tongue made its way into my mouth, exploring every crevice. I felt my body temperature rise as my heart raced.

“Cheol” I whimpered against his lips as he raised his hips to meet mine. He groaned his hand sliding down my thigh I felt myself getting wetter as my desire for him grew more intense. His lips moved from my mouth to my neck, leaving a trail of kisses behind. I arched my back to meet his advances, my heart racing as I felt my body trembling with pleasure.  His fingers brushed against my clit, collecting my wetness with his fingers then start to rub my clit. His other hand moved higher, caressing my breasts as his lips continued to explore my neck. His touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure through my body. I let out a moan of pleasure as my body quivered. His lips returned to my mouth, his touch sending my mind into overdrive. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to climax,

“Good girl princess. Tell me what you need”  He whispered against my lips. 

“I-I want your fingers, please” I whimpered body trembling with anticipation. He slowly inserted two fingers into me, his thumb rubbing my clit as his fingers thrusted in and out of me and I began writhing in pleasure. I felt my body tense up as I started to come undone. 

“I’m cumming!” I said. 

“That’s a good girl, use my fingers to cum” His lips returned to mine, and I let out a final moan of pleasure as my body shuddered in ecstasy. When I finally calmed down I tugged on the string of his sweatpants untying it.  He quickly removed his fingers from my pussy and allowed me to take his pants off. He stood there naked, his erection jutting out proudly. ‘Wow, he’s big.’  I thought to myself as I looked up at him with admiration. I reached out and wrapped my small hand around his shaft, feeling it throb in my hand. I slowly began to stroke him, feeling him harden even more.

“Shit, Y/n, make it wet baby. Spit on it, ” He said taking his shirt off and tossing it across the room. Taking my hand and spitting on it wrapping it around him again. 

“Good fucking girl,” He said panting. I smiled softly watching his face twitch in pleasure.  Finally taking him in my mouth slowly watching his mouth drop slightly. 

“Fuuuuuuuck, baby girl,” He said once I took some of him in my mouth. My hand wrapped around the rest.  He looked down at me, biting his lip. Learning what sends shivers up and down his spine. I pulled up to suck on the head of his cock. I started to move my head and hand up and down his cock occasionally deep throating him. 

“Oh, my fuck- so good at that” His raspy voice whispered his hand in my hair. My eyes never left his. 

“Fuck, you look so beautiful like this.” He said, then pulled me away from him. Bending down picked me up and placed me on the couch with him on his knees. Without a warning, his mouth attached to my clit. 

“Oh shit, Cheol!” I cried out my hands in his hair. His fingers slid into me again. Riding his fingers as his mouth worked on my clit had me arching me arching my back. He pulled away still fucking me with his fingers. 

“You don’t know how long I wanted this, princess. To taste you and feel you around me. Now that I know what you taste and feel like…I’m never letting you go” He said curling his fingers and hitting my G-spot over and over again. 

“Fuck, right there!” I moaned, and he smiled teasingly and said 

“Right here, princess? ” I nodded biting my lip, which made him spank my clit lightly 

“F-uck!” I screamed tightening around his fingers 

“Oh- no baby you gonna cum? You need to ask sweetie, let me hear you beg” he said smirking and spanking my clit again. 

“Please, let me cum so you can fuck me Cheollie” My hips meet his fingers in every thrust. His lips wrapped around my clit again making me gasp and whimper. I couldn’t help myself, the aura he gave, the control he had. The word slipped out 

“Daddy! Please can I cum?”  He smirked again before pushing his fingers deeper inside me and sucking and nibbling at my clit, making me moan louder. I felt my orgasm building, my body trembling with pleasure, and when it finally released, I screamed out in pleasure, my body shaking and trembling with pleasure.  I gasped in pleasure, my orgasm finally arriving. He didn't stop, continuing his ministrations until I was spent. Only then did he remove his fingers and lips from me, leaving me in a blissful state.

“Daddy huh?” He said standing up and taking my legs in his hands wrapping them around his waist. Sliding his cock through my lips. 

“Mmmh, please don’t tease me.” He leaned down kissing me. Biting at my lower lip pulling away 

“Beg me to fuck you baby” 

 “Please daddy, fuck me,” I pleaded. His lips curved into a smirk, pushing inside me., back arched gasping out as he bottomed out  He slowly began to thrust in and out, his grip tightening on my hips with each thrust. I moaned in pleasure, my body trembling with pleasure. He leaned down and kissed me, his breath hot against my lips. 

“You, feel so good. Like you were made for me” he groaned out kissing and biting my neck. I moaned out at the pain and pleasure he was giving me. He leaned up took my leg in his hand put it on his shoulder kissing it softly. The angle change made my mouth drop open, 

“Right there daddy, please” I moaned 

“Please what babygirll? Use your words” he said his other hand pinching at my nipple. I couldn’t think straight. My brain can’t even form the thought of what I was asking for.

“Princess, be a good girl and use your words,” He said hand traveling up my chest onto my neck. 

“F-faster please” I cried out. His pace increased, and my moans became louder with each thrust. He leaned down and whispered, his voice low and raspy. 

“Such a good girl, taking all of me. Asking so nicely. I always wondered how much of a good girl you’d be.” I tightened around him making him groan out. 

“Fuck,” Him hitting my g-spot the way he looked like he could spend forever in this position. Turned me on even more. Making me clench around him. 

“You keep doing that I’m gonna cum” He said I smiled and did it again. He groaned his thrusts stuttering. His hold on me tightened, he reached down and rubbed my clit I gasped as I felt him release inside me. Which triggered my orgasm. 

“Daddy!” I screamed out he continued to fuck me through it. He collapsed on top of me, our breathing still heavy. Once he caught his breath he pulled out. I whimpered at the loss of his warmth. I felt him get up he took me in his arms carrying me to his room and then the bathroom and sat me on the toilet. 

“Use the bathroom princess,” He said grabbing a washcloth and wetting it. I used the bathroom grabbed some toilet paper, wiped myself, and stood up. Seungcheol quietly wiped me with the washcloth and cleaned himself off picking me up again and leaving the bathroom. Walking towards his bed laying down with me on top of him. 

“You’re mine now baby girl, and I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon”

[wnbnny]

wish you back - h.js

w.c - 2.0k | genre - highschool!au/slice of life | pairings - jisung x gn reader | authors note - omfg i'm back from hiatus 😭 anyw req by my bby @starseungs i hope u enjoy <3 req can be found here!

life brings about many surprises, one of which comes in the form of han jisung.

life as a highschooler wasn't easy, navigating through workloads, teenage crushes, and the struggles of a growing and developing brain.

most of all, the concept of soulmates.

soulmates were a thing you would expect from a movie, a fictional world. yet, it was very much true, girls gossiping over potential soulmates in the hallways, boys proposing to their girlfriends in soccer games, happy couples strolling down the streets of the city. your life was lived in monochrome, the classic black and white. it was only when you met your supposed soulmate at the age of 18 that everything would explode, a vibrant splatter of colours that finally allowed you to see the world as it was, not just through a filter. people described it as the feeling of warmth on your skin, the thrill of it all, the reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues, purples, pink, all the hues, like home.

but that blood red string scared you.

what was so good about soulmates? the idea of having the rest of your life laid out before you, pre-destined and fated, scared you. what if your soulmate lived halfway across the world? what if you would never meet your soulmate, destined to die a lonely death while everyone else danced under the stars with their loved one? what if you didn't like the life planned out for you? what if you had to live the rest of your life seeing only black and white, and never see the yellow of the sun or the fresh green of the grass and the vibrant red of the flowers? what if your soulmate didn't want you?

it was especially the latter of the questions that haunted you the most.

you feared, with a frightening worriedness, that your chosen one would reject you. you had heard stories of people being rejected by their chosen soulmate, only to either live out their lives in misery or take their own life. no one was ever the same after meeting their soulmate. 

to be honest, you would rather live forever in a world with only black and white than to go through that heartbreak. you would never allow yourself to fall in love, you vowed. soulmate or not, heartbreak was something you never wanted to experience.

---

"oi!" 

"what do you want for your birthday? y'know what, nevermind, it should be a surprise." jisung grinned, ruffling your hair as you scowled at him.

"don't remind me, you know how much i dread the damned day." you groaned, shoulders sagging in defeat. 

your 18th birthday. 

the day you would finally meet your soulmate. 

life had been so peaceful until now, you thought. until someone would come into the picture and fuck everything up.

just 7 days to go until the day. 7 days wouldn't be that bad, right?

wrong.

day 7. day 6. day 5. day 4. day 3. day 2. 

each day, you could feel the trepidation settling into your bones, a chill running through your spine every time you looked at the clock on the wall, until that very day.

the day was normal, well-wishes from your parents and your gift given to you, the new bag you had been yearning for, significantly improving your mood, a smile on your face as you walked to the bus, corners of your lips lifting up and eyes crinkling. your eyes zeroed in on every person as you boarded the bus, squinting in anticipation of the bright colours that were supposed to burst in your vision. luckily, the world remained black and white, not a single spot of colour. you looked down at your phone. damn. the only classes you had with jisung were in the afternoon.

throughout the day, everyone showered you with birthday wishes, gifting you beautifully wrapped presents, yet you couldn't find it in your heart to be genuinely happy, a fake smile plastered on your face as you thanked them for the wishes. it wasn't that you didn't appreciate the gifts, truly. you just dreaded the change that would come in a few hours or so. in a few hours, you would be meeting the person that you would spend the rest of your life with. 

"class dismissed!" you startled awake with a jolt, unconsciously having daydreamed throughout the class, lost in thought. as you scrambled to move onto the next class, hastily picking up your textbook, a hand stopped you. you flinched in surprise, heightened alertness instantly kicking in. a girl held out your pen to you, the world still remaining in black and white.

thank goodness.

up next was biology, your hated arch nemesis. groaning half-heartedly to yourself as you dragged yourself to your locker to dump your heavy textbooks in, a voice broke you out of your reverie.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY-" a voice screamed, causing you to yelp in surprise, head whipping around in surprise as you finally saw the offender of your eardrums.

oh.

time seemed to stop.

red, the colour of his old beanie.

brown, the colour of his soft silky hair that you loved to thread your fingers through.

black, the colour of his old sweatpants and backpack.

yellow, the colour of his pins on his backpack.

blue, the colour of his fluffy hoodie.

purple, the colour of his keychain.

white, the colour of the blinding brightness that seemed to overtake you for a millisecond.

han jisung was your fucking soulmate.

in his hands was a badly wrapped present, wrapped in a bright yellow paper, his lips parted in shock and surprise as he started dumbfoundedly at you.

"oh."

he could only sputter, his boba eyes round and wide as the present dropped to the floor in shock.

han jisung was your soulmate. 

fuck.

"uh- so-" jisung's hand came up to scratch the back of his head, eyes wide in disbelief. 

"so uh- we're..."

"soulmates." you could only say in response.

should you be happy? you were supposed to jump in joy, after all. anyone would expect someone to be happy after bagging the person who was simultaneously your best friend and your secret crush. 

but why did it feel like you and jisung were headed on a one way train to doom?

"i- i gotta go." you stammered, turning around and dashing out the hall, breathing laboured as you heard him call after you in desperation.

no, no, no-

life was going so well. he would never want you, ever. he would never see you in that way. your friendship would be ruined. you would lose your best friend. 

life seemed to bustle around you as you ran. greens, pinks, purples, hues of every shade faded into your vision as you ran, tears finally cascading down your face, dripping onto the lush grass beneath your feet. you couldn't bring yourself to look at anything, eyes tightly shut, a stark reminder of what would change.

---

[57 missed calls]

jisungie 

hello?? y/n? i know you probably don't want to see me now... but i'll be here waiting for you, ok?  it's probably hard to accept that we're soulmates... but take your time:) seen at 12.03 a.m

jisungie

you didn't come to class today...  r u ok?? take care of yourself seen at 15.39 p.m

jisungie

its been five days already i miss you seen at 23.12 p.m

---

you threw your phone across the room, head buried in your shoulders as you muffled a sob. 

fuck him and his perfect personality.

if only he were that easy to forget, to let go. 

but he was han jisung. perfect in every way. as if you could ever dream of forgetting him and his warm touch, his wide grin, his fluffy brown hair hanging over in his eyes with a boyish innocence.

"ding!"

you groaned in annoyance, flinging the sheets back, stumbling out of bed, and quickly wiping away your tears. 

probably one of mom's online deliveries again. 

walking down the stairs, you swung open the door. 

"hi, you can leave the delivery there-"

except it wasn't even a delivery man.

it was han jisung.

"jisung-?" 

you could only stammer in response, eyes widening as you took a step back.

after all, what was one supposed to say to your soulmate that you'd been avoiding for days?

a flash of white and pink caught your eyes. your gaze drifted down to his hands, only to be met with a bouquet of pink, white, and red tulips, a beautiful arrangement wrapped in pink tulle and tied together with a elegant white ribbon.

"uhh... surprise?" jisung smiled anxiously before scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as his face turned crimson red.

too stunned to speak, you could only stand there gaping at him. after what felt like an eternity, you finally spoke.

"what are you doing here?"

"wait... lemme just- uh- compose myself. big speech, y'know?" he grinned in nervousness, fidgeting slightly, clearly a bundle of nerves.

"so..." he exhaled. "i know i'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but... i don't blame you. but however you feel about us being... soulmates, it doesn't change the fact that i don't mind being your soulmate. i was... pretty happy at first, but then you ran away, so i-"

"wait, happy? i thought you would be mad, or angry, or anything-" you cut him off, brows furrowing in confusion.

jisung gulped. "i had feelings for you." 

"what-?" your heart rate skyrocketed, a ringing in your ears, the thumping of your heart against your ribcage, all making you painfully hopeful, pleading with the gods to not break your heart and dash your hopes again.

"i- i had feelings for you. so... no matter how you want this whole soulmate thing to turn out, even if you don't feel the same, i'll be happy either way knowing you're my soulmate. if you don't want it to, this won't change anything between us, we can go back to living our normal lives-"

jisung was cut off by the feeling of soft, plush lips on his, crashing into him with a ferocity as your arms were thrown around his neck, teeth clashing with his, warm hands threading into his hair.

you didn't think you would ever get used to kissing jisung, you thought. every single touch, smile, even a tiny glance set your nerves ablaze. the feeling of his pillowy lips on yours was thrilling, his hands threaded into your hair and pulling you closer by your lower back, pressing you flush against him until there was so space between the two of you, bridging the gaps that felt like oceans forcing the two of you apart.

finally, the two of you parted with a gasping 'pop', ears red and cheeks flushed, staring at each other in childlike wonder. 

"thank you for the tulips," you smile, taking them from his hands and planting one last kiss on his cheek, "they're lovely."

jisung's ears turned bright red, stammering out a 'you're welcome' in response as you laughed at his antics. "oh, that reminds me," he smiled giddily, hand reaching into his pocket to pull out a beautiful baby pink coloured box, gently opening it. you gasped, inside was a beautiful necklace with a heart charm in the middle, simple and elegant. "i was gonna give this to you on your birthday, but... well, you ran off, so here." he smiles nervously awaiting your reaction, and is pleasantly surprised when you squeal and plant a big fat kiss on his lips. he helps you put it on, your lips finding his again as you wrap your arms around his neck and tug him closer. "it's beautiful, thank you." you smile, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

"so you'll accept me as your soulmate?" he asked, eyes wide as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, anxiously waiting for your answer.

you nod, smiling. "i accepted you as my soulmate the moment i found out, i just... thought you wouldn't feel the same way back... so i just avoided you. in hindsight, that sounds pretty stupid," you sigh.

"aish, we could've kissed a long time ago if i had just told you i felt the same!" jisung groaned, pulling you closer as you laughed and smacked his arm in playful indignation. "at least we worked it out." smiling softly, you allowed yourself a moment of peace, tucking your head into the crook of his neck.

"out of all the people in the world, i'm stuck with you, han jisung. but you're the best person to be stuck with."

[mimismenu]

꒰ 🎨 ꒱ 𝒩ishimura ℛiki [니키] : 𝒪neshot!

𝓰enre : soulmate au, fluffy fluffy fluff!

𝓹airing : non-idol,,artsy ni-ki x artsy fem reader.

𝓢ynopsis : in which people see the world in shades of black & white until making contact with their soulmate.

𝔀arning(s) : bumping into each other cliche.

꒰ 💬 ꒱ 𝓂i 𝓃ote!

remember, this is a work of fiction. i did not proofread, so please excuse any mistakes. if you enjoyed this, please like and reblog. it would be much appreciated.

enjoy, my lovely readers. xoxo, mimi.

NISHIMURA RIKI was the quiet, loner type at decelis high, considering the fact that his best friends were all upperclassmen that had since graduated. he often sat by himself during lunch period, headphones on blast as he drew in his small sketchbook. his art was beautiful to anyone who had the privilege to see, yet it lacked one element; color.

the boy greatly envied those who had gained their palette, straight from the source of interacting with their soulmate; to which he had yet to meet. at least that’s what he believed, since he’d never came in physical contact with them.

currently, he was sat beneath a tree in the courtyard, hoping to sketch the scenery of campus, humming along to a track playing in his ears. his legs were entirely outstretched, laid before him as he used his thighs as a surface to draw upon.

a figure, obviously in a rush, had approached with hurried steps through the grass, tripping over his limbs with a soft ‘oof’. glancing up in surprise, riki’s gaze met the back of your kneeling figure. he recognized you immediately, as you shared multiple art classes throughout the years, and many labeled you as the campus sweetheart.

but…

wait, your outfit was a different sprawl of hues from the generic blacks and whites that he could see. in fact, his view was anything but grayscale. he assumed that you’d realized the same, your head tilting a few degrees in curiosity as you stared at the green grass beneath your palms.

pulling himself from the initial shock, the boy removed his headphones, placing them and his sketchbook aside to help you gather what had fallen from your grasp, knelt beside you.

“are you okay, y/n?” the boy questioned, his fingertips grazing yours as you’d reached for the item. when your eyes met his, he felt the air leave his lungs, your features far more angelic than people had described. his sight was one that people would’ve fought for, and yet he had the privilege to witness you in such beautiful color. your expression mirrored his, the honey of his skin, the blush of his lips– it was an exquisite change, leaving you in awe.

“y/n?” his voice drew you from the daze of his beauty, causing your eyes to flutter in rapid blinks that showcased your nerves.

“s–sorry, riki.” you murmur, reaching to take your sketchbook from his hands, only for him to pull it back. leaning your upper half forward, you found yourself a mere few inches from him– your breath mingling with his.

“y/n.” riki called with a low tone, causing you to gulp, averting your gaze. his fingers reached up, gently caressing your chin as he turned your head to meet his eyes.

“why were you in such a rush, bunny?” he questions, his brows furrowing in worry of any possible injury you may have gotten. flustered by the pet name, your cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink, catching his interest as he waited patiently for a response.

“well.. well i wanted to..” you begin, stumbling over your words in embarrassment. you were actually on the search for him, hoping to find a vantage point in which you could draw him for the day. your fingers reached to grasp at the sketchbook, your name sprawled across the front; only for riki to cheekily grin at you.

“what’s in here, hm?” he questions with a playful wiggle of his brows, glancing down at the sketchbook to flip the front page.

“w–wait!” you attempted to protest, only for his lips to part in surprise, having found a drawing of… himself?

“y/n…” he whispers in disbelief, his eyes casting between the drawing and you, his gaze landing on the paper once more. his fingers gently flipped through the pages, finding a multitude of sketches you’d made of him; most of them during lunch period, where he peacefully sat alone.

“oh, pretty...” he murmurs, folding the sketchbook shut before placing it aside, practically tugging you onto his lap. “stop admiring from afar.” he mutters, pressing gentle kisses against your cheeks, to which your skin flushes even further. he was honored to have been the apple of your eye, as you were his.

after all, his staring sessions during class were rather obvious to everyone but you.

“riki!” you squeal in shyness, hands pressed against his chest as he lovingly smothers you.

“see, it's a sign that you should’ve joined me all along, baby.” he coos, glancing up at the sky and pointing with his index finger; the colors sprawled across your vision as you turned your head.

“not only can you see colors, but you have me to grace your presence.” he grins at you, ticking your sides as a giggle falls past your lips, your gaze returning to his.

“oh, yippie!” you sarcastically respond with a playful smile, earning a gasp of feign hurt from the boy; to which you place a gentle kiss to his lips.

now it was his turn to be flustered, your action catching him off guard before he pulled you in once again, your smiles meshing as you expressed your affection, no longer hidden.

taglist : @greentulip @nshmuras @wonsdoll 📎

[ash-whimsicalfanfic]

A Black & White World

Mattheo Riddle X Fem OC/Reader

Word Count: 2635

Warnings: Mild Language, Partying, Alcohol, Angst, Fluff, Blood…

Prompt: Everyone sees black and white until you meet your soulmate. Unfortunately, you are the only one in your friend group who hasn't met their soulmate.

"Look at this color! Isn't gorgeous!" Pansy exclaims, running into the common room with her dress.

Lorenzo, Theodore, Draco and Blaise go quiet, looking between her and I nervously. She looks confused and I smile.

"I'm assuming it's a darker shade of green which should go well with your hair since it's a darker brown. Not to mention your have a somewhat pale complexion." I say with a soft smile.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry Y/N. I forgot." She whispers.

"It's fine. Seriously." I say.

"Y/N..." She trails off.

"It's fine. I have to go catch up on some studying." I say.

She nods, looking guilty. I grab my bag, giving her a soft smile before I leave the room and frown. I never am going to meet him.

After sulking in the library for a few hours, instead of studying, I headed to the Great Hall for dinner. I found them sitting there already and I take my seat when the room goes silent.

"I'd like to introduce our new student! He is a fifth year and he was pre-sorted into Slytherin! Please welcome Mattheo Riddle!" Professor Dumbledore exclaims.

I focus on my food, pushing it around on my plate. Pansy kicks me from under the table and I glare at her. She motions to her left and I look over to see the Mattheo had sat on the other side of Draco.

Mattheo looks at me, and the moment our eyes locked...I could see color. The first thing I noticed was his brown eyes. Then I took in the blank expression. He looks away and I bite the inside of my cheek before looking at Pansy and shrugging.

"Y/N!" Fred exclaims.

"Yes, Weasley?" I ask, turning towards him.

"Umbridge took our brooms again...could you get them back for us...again?" He asks, motioning between him and George.

"No! Last time she was forced to write lines with Umbridge's special quill." Pansy snaps.

"Special quill?" Mattheo asks.

"Basically you write lines, but it's writes into your hand." Lorenzo explains.

"Yes. Come along." I sigh, standing as I begin to walk out of the Great Hall.

We get to Umbridge's office and she wasn't in here. I point to their brooms and they grab them when I hear her. Oh great. I motion them to hurry and they grab my hand, pulling me towards the window as we all jump out.

Fred and George each hold one of my hands as I hang between the two.

"If you drop me, I'll kill you!" I exclaim as they fly higher on their brooms and I'm dangling by their hands.

"Fred! George!" Pansy screeches from below in the courtyard.

"We won't drop her! We got to go! Umbitch!" Fred exclaims.

"Y/L/N!" She screams and I grimace.

"Tree!" I screech and the twins fly higher.

"Sorry!" They shout.

"I'm going to kill you both!" I shout.

"Well in that case." Fred says, as he smirks.

He lets go of my hand and so does George. However, they both fly down and grab me again and I find myself about to throw up. Thankfully, they land.

I stumble forward and Pansy rushes forward, pulling me into a hug.

"Oh thank god. Your okay." She breathes.

"Y/L/N, I thought you learned last time. Come along. You'll be writing lines again." Umbridge says.

"Why are you still trying? You know it doesn't work on me." I say.

"How doesn't it hurt you?" She asks, rolling her eyes.

"It hurts, but I know how to hide it. Kinda like it." I smirk, shrugging and her eyes widen briefly before she rushes off.

"What the fuck?" Mattheo mumbles, his eyes widening slightly.

"I never said she was sane, did I? She has her crazy...but we all do...just hers is more so than others." Draco explains quietly.

"I think I'm in love." Mattheo whispers.

It's been a few weeks since Mattheo transferred here, but he avoids me, so I do the same. I was out dress shopping with Pansy for a party that was being thrown tonight.

"This is pretty! I like it. I've discovered that emerald green is more my shade." I say as I turn to her, holding the dress up to me.

It was short, going to about mid-thigh. It had a high slit on one side, so I definitely wouldn't be able to wear panties with it. It was a deep v-neck, and it'd run down between my breasts, nearly reaching my belly button.

"Its so pretty and so you! And yeah, I agree! Emerald green is your color—wait a goddamn minute! Emerald! When were you able to start seeing color?" She asks.

I pale, realizing I slipped up. She knows. I look down, letting a deep breath out as a familiar ache takes over my heart.

"He doesn't want anything to do with me, Pansy. I'm just trying to move forward." I say, looking at the satin dress I held.

"Alright." She mumbles, knowing I didn't want to talk about it.

"There they are!" Draco exclaims.

I add the dress to my basket before I look up to see that all the guys were here. I decided to slip away and went to the shoe section. I found a gorgeous pair of black heels with a silver snake wrapping around the heel. I find them in my size and add them to the basket. I look at a pair of shoes and grab them before heading back to Pansy.

"Pans, try these on." I say, tossing her the box.

She grabs them and sits on a nearby bench as the guys watch. I ignore Mattheo's eyes on me and she grins up at me.

"They are perfect and will go with my dress! Did you get yourself shoes?" She asks, putting the shoes back in the box.

"Yeah. I just need to find some boob tape." I say.

"What? What are you wearing?" Draco asks protectively and I roll my eyes.

"None of your concern. I'm a big girl and unfortunately yet fortunately, I'm single so I can wear what I want when I want and look however the hell I want." I say tiredly.

"Give her a break Draco, she's having a hard time. She met her soulmate...but she said he doesn't want anything to do with her." Pansy whispers.

I acted like I couldn't hear, focusing on the handbags that were literally right next to us. I grab one and pair it up with my dress before adding it the basket.

"Ms. Y/L/N?" The store clerk calls.

I look up before walking over to the front desk. She laid out some of her best snake jewelry and I look over them slowly.

There was a long silver snake choker necklace that was covered in diamonds. It was a necklace, in the shape of a snake and it would be like I had a snake resting around my neck. The snake head and tail would rest between my breasts, but it was gorgeous.

I see a matching pair of snake earrings that would dangle. It was like the snake was slithering, however it looks like it would bite your ear from the way they clip on.

"I'll go with these two pieces." I say.

"That's over a grand, are you sure Ms. Y/L/N?" She asks.

"Yes." I say, pulling my card free.

I pay for the jewelry, dress and shoes before walking back over to Pansy who was ready to go to the makeup store. The guys followed behind us and I let Pansy lead the way.

"This shade of red would be gorgeous on you!" Pansy exclaims, running towards me.

"I don't know Pans. I'm not big on makeup." I say unsure.

"She is right. The red would really make your eyes pop." Theodore says.

I sigh, looking at the lipstick. I nod, giving in and she grins. I follow behind her as she excitedly shows me different pallets before I decided to look at the different perfumes.

I look around before catching Mattheo staring at me once again and I look away. Why won't he stop staring?

"Excuse me?" I hear.

I turn towards a boy who was much taller than me. He had blond hair and green eyes.

"Yes?" I ask annoyed.

"Would you go out with me?" He asks.

"Abso-fucking-lutely not. Goodbye." I say, turning away.

I gasp as he pulls me back by my hair. I spin around, pulling my fist back and hitting him in the nose. He groans, grabbing his very much broken nose. I knee him in the balls and watch as he sinks to the floor.

"Maybe next time you'll think before you put your hands on a girl, asshole." I snap.

I put the lipstick down before I storm out of the store knowing if I stayed any longer, I would've pulled my wand out whether he was a muggle or not. I was absolutely furious.

I find myself in a bookstore and I felt myself calming down as I read the backs of several books. I ended up caving and bought myself several romance novels and several spicy books.

I walk out to see that Pansy was waiting outside with the guys.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asks.

"Why wouldn't I be? Well...my card definitely is suffering now. Who knew books have gotten so expensive? It's such a shame." I mutter annoyed.

"I...I'm talking about that guy." She says.

"Oh him. I came to the bookstore to calm down. I wanted to crucio him, muggle or not." I say.

"Alright. I think you've had your dosage of muggles for the month. Let's get her back to Hogwarts." Draco sighs and I shrug at the concerned looks from my friends.

Mattheo looked confused and I look at his hands to see that his knuckles were split. I quickly look away before he notices though.

I slip on the dress, looking at myself in the floor length mirror. I smooth out the silky material. It was gorgeous. I loved this, although I was a little worried about some slip up or flashing someone.

I pull on the heels before looking back at myself in the mirror. The heels pulled the entire outfit together. The dangling snakes and the snake necklace around my neck looked beautiful. I looked...hot.

Not to mention the makeup job that Pansy did was phenomenal. I had a red lipstick on with a dark eyeshadow. I heard the music and I knew I needed to get out there soon.

I walk out and go to the common room where everyone was dancing. I head towards the drink table, pouring myself a glass. I slowly scan the room, ignoring Mattheo who was staring at me. He had a group of girls surrounding him who were hardcore flirting. Pansy was dancing with Draco.

"Wanna dance?" Theo asks.

"Where is Luna?" I ask.

"Broke up." He says shortly.

I take his hand and we head towards the dance floor where we start dancing. He was one of my best friends. I shouldn't have been dancing so sensually with him. This was wrong. Especially knowing Mattheo was watching.

"Seems like both our soulmates don't want us!" He calls.

"Theo, what are you trying to say?" I call back, turning to face him as I stop dancing.

"Why not try something out? Just you and I." He suggests.

"Theo, we are best friends." I say surprised.

"We could be more though." He says, pulling me closer to him as he starts to dance.

I look over his shoulder at Mattheo who was watching us with a clenched jaw. His fists clenched around the cup and his drink goes everywhere.

I couldn't be in a relationship with anyone else unless it was Mattheo.

It felt wrong already.

Mattheo was pushing through the crowd and I look down between Theo and I. Theo was giving me time to think although, I knew my answer. I knew I couldn't be with him. Especially because I only saw him as my best friend. And I'm friends with Luna. I wouldn't do that to her. I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation to why the two broke up because just the other day, they were so in love.

"Theodore, get the hell away from her." Mattheo snaps.

I look up to see Mattheo standing behind him. Theodore turns towards him, chuckling and I could tell by Mattheo's stance that he was about ready to beat the hell out of Theodore.

"No Theo. I'm not interested in something like that. We are friends. That's it. Mattheo, come on." I say.

Theodore grabs my wrist and pulls me into his chest. I stumble and I smell the alcohol on his breath before his lips were on mine. I push him away, sending him back as Mattheo goes to lunge at him, but I use all my might to push Mattheo back as more attention focused on us.

"What's going on?" Draco asks, pushing through the crowd.

"Get Theodore out of here before Mattheo kills him! He's being drunk and stupid and has no clue what he is doing anymore!" I grunt, pushing Mattheo back who was still trying to get to Theodore.

Blaise and Lorenzo start to drag Theodore away as Draco and Pansy calm the party down and I was able to drag Mattheo away. I held his hand, pulling him through the halls and outside until I see the Astronomy tower. I pull him up to the top before I turn to him.

"Don't you ever fucking stop me again, Y/N! He fucking deserves what will come to his way! You could've been hurt. If I'm going to get into a fight, you need to standby." He snaps.

"No! Theodore is going through something right now. He's drunk and he probably won't even remember this tomorrow. So, calm down Mattheo! He's still my best friend." I snap.

"He fucking kissed you right in front of me!" He snaps, running a hand through his hair as he paces.

"And? Why do you care Mattheo? You've acted as if I was invisible these past few weeks although we both know we are soulmates." I snap.

"I didn't think you'd want to be with a monster like me." He snaps.

"Well you don't get to pick what I want and what I don't want, Mattheo! I'm a big girl! And frankly, I'm a monster too if you are. We are more alike than you think." I say.

"Your not a monster! Your so much more than you think you are!" He snaps, looking me in the eye.

"You can't say stuff like that, Mattheo." I say annoyed.

"Why not?" He asks, stepping towards me and I back up.

"Because we aren't together." I snap.

"Then be my girlfriend." He says, pinning me against the wall as he looks down at me with those chocolate eyes.

"Fine." I snap.

He chuckles before leaning down and kissing me roughly. I kiss back, moving my hands to his hair where I run them through his curly locks. He presses himself further against me, biting my lip before pulling back. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth and I see my blood coating his lips.

"As much as I love this dress on you, I rather see it off." He says, pushing a strap off my shoulder.

"Then take it off." I murmur.

"At my dorm." He says.

I huff, nodding before he drags me along. I try my best to keep up with him, the both of us eager to get to his dorm.

[pholla-jm]

Colors

IMAGINE: COLORS - ZORO X READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: soulmate au. a bit ooc? ****************

The world was rather drab in your opinion. Just black, white and grays. And to see color you have to meet a certain person, your soulmate to be more specific. 

You hated that idea. If you want to see the world at its fullest you have to depend on a single person? You cursed the deity that created it. You wanted to be an independent person, and falling in love only sounded like it was going to slow you down. 

So you continued to live life in monochrome, accepting to live like this. That doesn’t mean you hated every second of it. To make the best of it, you traveled to different islands, exploring different cultures and trying different foods. 

It was a good life. 

The island you were currently at was quite busy. People constantly bump into each other, shoving, just trying to get to their destination. You wouldn’t be surprised if there were any pickpockets in the area. You didn’t really like it, too many people. So you decided to head to the docks to find your little boat. 

However, it was gone. Someone had stolen it. Your day literally couldn’t get any worse. 

Your eyes gaze at all the other ships, trying to find one that you deemed worthy enough to get help. A ship with a sheep figurehead caught your eyes. It was rather… cute. 

You could see some people walking around on the deck. With a deep sigh, you mentally prepare yourself to play the damsel in distress. Forcing tears to sheen over your eyes, you climb up the ship. 

“Excuse me,” You softly say, tears becoming more fresh in your eyes as you try to catch someone's attention. 

“Hey! What are you doing on my ship?” You hear a boy call out to you. You look at him, seeing that he was wearing a straw hat and an open vest. You could tell he had his guard up, and you don’t blame him. It is his ship anyway. However, you could tell that it would be rather easy to convince. 

“Someone stole my ship… and now I’m stuck here. Can you help me?” “Huh, are you a pirate too?” 

What, a pirate?

You didn’t really consider yourself to be a pirate but if it pleased the boy in front of you, then you would say that you were. 

“Because if you are, then you’re a terrible pirate.” He says and you almost choke on your spit. 

“No,” you whisper while wiping away some tears, “I’m not a pirate. I’m sailing by myself.” 

The boy was about to say something until another woman appeared. 

“Luffy, who is this person?” A taller woman now stood behind the boy, a slight scowl present on her face. 

“I’m (y/n), and my ship has been stolen. I just need passage to the next island… I have berri to pay you with.” You say holding up a small bag of berri, since the rest of it was on your ship. Something that irked you even more.

As soon as the woman heard berri, her scowl lifted away and a bright smile graced her face. “Of course!” She says immediately grabbing the small pouch of money that you had. She walks off, not saying anything else. Leaving you with the boy named Luffy. 

“Welcome to the crew!” He excitedly says. You quirked an eyebrow, “uh. Not part of the crew. Just to the next island.” 

Luffy ignores you, “I’ll show you to the rest of the crew. That was Nami, she’s our navigator,” he grabs your hand and starts to drag you around the ship. He opens one of the doors, which led to a kitchen. A man stood over the stove, stirring something. 

The man sighs hearing the door open. “Luffy, how many times do I have to tell you-” He turns around, ready to scold the boy. However, he stops once he sees you. 

“Well, who do I have the honor meeting?” He walks over to you, with a suave smile. “This is (y/n), she’s going to be a part of the crew now. This is Sanji, he’s the cook” Sanji grabs onto your hand, and you just slightly shake your head, “oh no. Just to the next island.” Sanji brings your hand up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on it. “Well, I do hope you change your mind.” You nervously laugh at him while pulling your hand back, “thanks.” 

Luffy grabs onto your other hand, dragging you out of the kitchen. 

“This is Usopp!” He shouts pointing to someone with curly hair and quite a long nose. “He’s a-” “I’m the Captain!” He cuts off Luffy. “No! I’m the Captain!” 

The two start to bicker, causing you to sweat drop at their antics. 

While they are bickering, you decide to look around the ship. Your eyes caught a man that was sleeping on the side of the wall. He had three swords right next to him, and you wondered, who uses three swords?

Leaving the two bickering boys, you walked up to the sleeping man. Wanting to get a closer look at the three swords. However, when you are standing right infront of him, his eyes snapped open, looking straight into your eyes.

Suddenly, you could see this green hair. Something that greatly stood out to you. 

Wait. 

You could see the color of his hair. You could see every color around you. 

It was all too much. The sudden rush of colors causes your head to spin and hurt. There were too many colors that you’ve never seen or heard before. You didn't have time to process the fact that you were now face to face with your soulmate. You rush past the man, and lean yourself over the railing. It wasn’t long until you were puking your guts out. 

“Huh, I guess my first impression isn’t that great.” You hear the man speak and you inwardly cringe. He must think you’re disgusting now. 

You groan, pushing yourself up to face your soulmate. Now that your headache has calmed down a little, you were able to take a better look at the man. He was tall, and had a few muscles on him. The thing that stood out to you was his green hair. You weren’t expecting to meet your soulmate on a pirate ship, and an actual pirate nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t expecting to meet my soulmate. And the colors… and it was just too much.” You explain. The man hums in response, “I wasn’t expecting my soulmate to sneak up on me.” You purse your lips, “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you… I was just interested in your swords.” 

The corner of his lips twitched, and he was about to say something until Luffy jumped in between the two of you. 

“(y/n)! There you are! You met Zoro!” He excitedly says. “Yeah, we met. They’re a part of our crew now, right?” Zoro says and your eyes widen. 

It seems like Luffy wasn’t the only one who decided that you were going to be a part of the crew. 

“Shhiiishiiishii, yeah!” 

Zoro shoots you a look, one of amusement and just a little bit of smugness. “Welcome, I can’t wait to show you more about my swords.”Zoro walks away leaving you speechless and Luffy just a little bit confused. “What was that about?” He asks. “Uh, don’t worry about it.” You answer, “I just found my soulmate…” 

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

Prompt List

Hey! I am so sorry for not uploading for like five months! I really want to start uploading again but I think doing so many Taylor Swift inspired prompts burnt me out - if you sent a request or do send one I will get to it just give me time.

Here is a prompt list I'll be using from now on, like always if you have your own idea(s), send them in!

These's prompts include: "dialogue", 'anything in quotations is what the whole fic will be based around', 5 times plus 1, AU's and more!

Send in just one or merge some ideas together!

Click here to add yourself to my tag list! 🤍

_______________________________________________

1 - “You’re in love with her, you know that right?”

2 - “I didn’t know where else to go.”

3 - “I’m replaceable, you’re not.”

4 - “You kept it?”

5 - Leaning their head on their shoulder

6 - “Because that’s what you and I do, we protect each other.”

7 - “I swear on us.” “Why us?” “Because there is nothing I have ever believed in more.”

8 - Person A getting hurt protect Person B

9 - “Hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

10 - “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

11 - “Whatever you do, don’t let go.”

12 - 5 times Person A and B correct people about their relationship status and the 1 time they just accept it

13 - Everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate. The world goes back to black and white when they die.

14 - “For what it’s worth, I never gave up on you.”

15 - Accidental love confession

16 - “You’re staring at him/her again.”

17 - “Give me one good reason why I should trust you?” “Because no matter how much you hate me, you know I have never lied to you.”

18 - “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

19 - “If there was ever anybody meant for me, it’s you.”

20 - “You had your chance with her. You had your chance and you blew it, and this is my chance and I am not going to blow it because we are made for each other.”

21 - ‘I still hope there is more to our story. Maybe we just had to fall apart to find each other again one day.’

22 - “You weren’t there…why weren’t you there? I needed you! I needed you and you weren’t there!”

23 - “It’s my job to keep you safe, yes, but you could work with me a little to make it easier.”

24 - “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you and you haven’t stopped thinking about me.”

25 - ‘I am usually an optimist but I have never hoped for a sad ending like I do for you and her.’

26 - “I can’t say if the day I met you was the best or worst day of my life.”

27 - “Don’t look at me like that.”

28 - ‘Do you think the universe fights for souls to be together? Some things are too strange and strong to be coincidences.’

29 - “She’s my best friend, that’s never changed.” “Yeah, the only thing that changed was your feelings for her.”

30 - “How many fingers am I holding up?”

31 - “You’d die for her?”

32 - ‘He had that awkward tenderness of someone who had never been in love and was forced to improvise.’

33 - “I did it for you, you idiot.”

34 - “If I never see you again just know that I love you so, so much.”

35 - ‘He kissed her. Without warning, without permission. Without even deciding to do it, but simply because he couldn’t have done anything else.’

36 - “I thought you were dead!”

37 - Squeezing their hand reassuringly

38 - “Whatever you do, do not make a sound.”

39 - “I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

40 - “I can’t do this without you. I won’t do this without you.”

41 - “See? I told ya they’d get together.”

42 - ‘There is some good left in this world and it is worth fighting for.’

43 - Born with your soulmates first name tattooed on your body

44 - ‘There are some people that you meet and you just know from the get go that they are important, that you have to do anything to keep them in your life. He was that person.’

45 - “You came to me, begging me for help!”

46 - “Tell me about your life before all of this.”

47 - ‘S/he would always be my biggest what if.’

48 - “It turns out I’m absolutely terrible at staying away from you.”

49 - One being forced to hurt the other but refusing, getting themselves hurt instead

50 - “Why is it always the people you can’t trust saying “trust me”?”

51 - ‘If you were going to die, I was going to die with you.’

52 - “You can’t sleep yet kid, I need you to stay awake.”

53 - ‘We met at the wrong time. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway. Maybe one day, years from now, we’ll meet in a coffee shop, in a faraway city somewhere and we could give it another shot.’

54 - Five times they wanted to say ‘I love you’ and the 1 time they finally did

55 - “I always thought you were the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

56 - “I’ve never had a family before.”

57 - “I’m not leaving without her.”

58 - ‘Sometimes we do everything right and it’s still not enough.'

59 - “Hey, you’re bleeding.”

60 - ‘We’re in love, we just want to be together. What’s wrong with that?’

61 - “Take me instead. Leave her/him and take me.”

62 - Sitting together on a rooftop

63 - “I think…I’m in love with (Name.)” “Congrats on being the last one to find out.”

64 - Needing somebody else to point out the fact you have feelings for character

65 - “I know we’re not…friends or anything, but…I’m here for you, if you need someone to talk to.”

66 - Drunken kiss

67 - “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

68 - ‘Home is not where you are from. It’s where you belong. Some of us travel the whole world to find it. Others find it in a person.’

69 - “If I had it my way, we’d never leave this bed.” 

70 - ‘Everything that needs saying, truly saying, begins with a lump in the throat.’

71 - When mysterious injuries appear on your body, it’s because your soulmate got them.

72 - ‘For old times sake.’

73 - “I’m never gonna be good enough for you, am I?”

74 - “Don’t hurt him! Just stop hurting him, please!”

75 - ‘Sometimes there are no words that can help. Sometimes you just need to sit together in silence and try to come to terms with how the world works.’

76 - “When I let a day go by without talking to you, that’s just not a good day.”

77 – “Do you have a plan?” “I have a gun.”

78 - “How long did you think you could hide that?”

79 - “Leave with me.”

80 - ‘She was good and he needed a little good in his life because without it there was an awful lot of darkness.’

81 - 5 places Person A and B have kissed plus the 1 place where they did more than that

82 - “Honestly I wasn’t listening but I always disagree with whatever you say.”

83 - “There’s no way I’m sharing a bed with you.” “You’re more than welcome to sleep on the floor.”

84 - Person B is frowning all the time but Person A can always see when they are happy (Grumpy x Sunshine)

85 - ‘I want you to always remember me. Will you remember that I existed and that I stood next to you here like this?”

86 - “I’ll do it, but only because you asked me to.”

87 - 5 times Person A treated Person B’s injuries, plus 1 time Person B treated Person A’s injury.

88 - ‘Maybe one day we’ll meet again and I’ll be right for you and you’ll be right for me.’

89 - "Dying in the middle of nowhere doesn't seem so bad if you're here."

90 - “Oh no, you’re a morning person.”

91 - “I hate you.” “I love you too.”

92 - “No, don't stop, keep talking. I like hearing you talk.”

93 - “Are you cold?”

94 - “What do you want from me?”

95 - “Look, I know you hate me but I don’t know what to do and I really need some help.”

96 - “I’m not leaving you. Not this time.”

97 - “I wish things had been different.”

98 - “I can’t leave you alone for a second without you getting into trouble, can I?”

99 - “You’re not sleeping?” “Nope.” “Why not?” “Don’t want you to stab me the second I close my eyes.” “I won’t.”

100 - “This isn’t just an (object), it’s a promise.”

[delirious-donna]

Ghosts of the Past [Extra Drabble]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

an: I decided that it would be cute to write a section from the POV of the couple that Kento and reader meet in the museum. I’ve grown very fond of this couple and I hope you’ll enjoy this extra little piece of the story.

warning: none, SFW, fluff and humour

Series Masterlist

The museum was full of its usual hustle and bustle, even more so given the holidays, and it was a pleasure to be a part of the hubbub.

Felicity scanned the crowds with a keen eye, smiling at the energetic children—some more rambunctious than others—accompanied by parents trying to corral them into some semblance of order. She well remembered when her own brood were this age, and the hours spent in this much-loved building keeping them amused during school holidays.

A hand slipped into hers, more familiar than any other and Felicity squeezed the fingers of her beloved husband, glancing at him with a love that had never diminished even after all these years together. She counted her blessings for having met her soulmate so young, and for the family they had raised, as well as the fun and laughter they continued to share.

The pair perused the museum that they knew like the back of their hand, winding through the galleries and stopping to spot new artefacts and displays. This was still one of their favourite pastimes, there was always a discovery to make and even on days when it felt like they had seen everything the museum had to offer, there was always people watching to fall back on.

Much to Howard’s feigned disapproval, Felicity adored watching people. Since their children had grown up and flown the nest to build their own families it had become a ritual of sorts to indulge her social curiosities in public places such as these. There was something special about witnessing the complexities of real human relationships that scratched the itch far more than any TV drama or soap opera ever could. Friendships blooming over shared interests, young minds being educated through fun interactive education, families finding their feet with the addition of children in tow, tired parents happy to see their kids entertained to give them a moment of peace, and best of all, romance blossoming in the most unlikely places and ways.

Today was no different, with new delights to be found in every room, but it wasn’t until they neared the new photography exhibition did Felicity feel the buzz of excitement that often signalled a special find.

“You’re like a bloodhound, Flic,” Howard chuckled with a playful roll of his eyes. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and secured his wife’s arm through his own.

“Pfft, nonsense. I’m simply drawn to where the universe wants me to be.” She didn’t believe the sentiment, but she’d be damned to admit he was right after all these decades together.

The pair admired a large mural of a cheetah made up of hundreds of thousands of tiny black-and-white images until her attention was drawn to the room by their left. There were only two occupants, a young man slowly edging around the room and an equally young woman resting on the leather seat in the middle.

Felicity watched whilst the young woman never took her eyes off the man perusing the photos on the wall. Her gaze was intent but there was a softness that infused her features with what appeared to be fondness. Perhaps even attraction? The young man, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to being the focus of the woman. His posture was stiff, hands clasped behind his back with a slight rock on the balls of his feet when something interested him.

If this wasn’t a budding romance, she’d eat her hat. Felicity tugged gently at the cuff of Howard’s shirt sleeve, nodding her head in the direction of the young couple and was met with a sigh of resignation.

“Leave them be,” he hissed, though there was no heat to his tone. Despite the words, he too began to watch as the young woman moved towards the man and started to speak. They were too far away to hear the conversation, but it was obvious after a moment that it wasn’t going well.

The couple watched on whilst the woman’s expression turned to shock then irritation. Whatever the man was saying, it wasn’t going over well, and when she strode off to the other side of the room, Howard could only feel sympathy for the young man. He looked genuinely perplexed, a hand scratching at the back of his neck as if the skin prickled from the exchange.

Felicity leaned into her husband to speak close to his ear. “Doesn’t that remind you of anyone?” She chuckled, turning twinkling eyes up at him and he felt a swell of love wash through him. It did remind him of someone, himself, and the young woman would be Felicity, his Flic.

“He looks as baffled as I felt back then. You always seemed to be mad at me for something I didn’t even realise was wrong,” Howard admitted with a shake of his head.

“I was, though it hardly matters now. The only thing that truly matters is how he deals with it… will he turn on his heel or will he try to resolve the issue?”

It was obvious that the wheels inside the young man’s head were turning at an astonishing rate, but he wasn’t moving, and Felicity’s shoulders slumped sadly.

“Give him a moment,” Howard chastised, pointing towards the man’s hand. “Don’t you see how he wishes to reach for her?”

He was right. The man’s hand was stretching, reaching as if what he wanted was just out of reach. It dropped as quickly as it happened, but only because he took the tentative steps to move alongside his object of affection.

“I always reached out for you, just as he did for her. Maybe they’ll make it,” he whispered co-conspiratorially.

“He’s confused, darling. I don’t think he quite knows what he wants, only that he doesn’t have it yet. Come on,” she said, moving them towards the young couple.

The woman was near yelling, yet the man simply looked on in confusion. So badly she wished to grab them both by the ear and turn them to face one another. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife and it was like stepping into a memory of her past, familiar and amusing. Back then, it had been far from funny but with the advantage of hindsight and a lot more life experience, she could view it for what it was.

“Oh, Howard, look there. Doesn’t that bring back memories?” Felicity called loudly, pleased when the pair jumped in surprise at being interrupted. They jerked apart like naughty children, and it only strengthened her belief that they both wanted something more than their current situation.

“They say that couples shouldn’t bicker, especially in public,” she said with a slight laugh. “But don’t listen to such rubbish. Howard and I used to snipe at each other regularly, and we’ve been married thirty-five years.”

The look of utter shock on their faces, especially the woman, was worth it. Along with the stammered explanations that it wasn’t what it seemed, that they weren’t a couple. So that was where the problem lay. Felicity wondered if it was down to one party in particular, and her gaze strayed to the young man.

A quick assessment painted a detailed picture. Young, handsome, successful, affluent given the timepiece on his wrist but maybe too invested in his work? She couldn’t blame him; society expected all youngsters these days to chase after unrealistic dreams. A career wasn’t the only thing that mattered in life, and from the expression he wore, he wasn’t as happy as he made out. A nudge in the right direction might do the trick. It would be a shame to see a bright young woman slip through his fingers simply because he was scared to try to make it work.

“My dear, when you’ve been around as long as we have, you start to trust what your gut tells you. I won’t say anything else except to offer this one piece of advice. Don’t go to bed angry, and don’t wait to go after what you truly want.”

Felicity offered a kindly smile at the young man, his jaw slack at the offered wisdom. She patted the woman’s arm once more as Howard led her away, but only after he offered his own incline of the head at the man. There was compassion in his eyes, and she knew that it felt like he was staring at his younger self at that moment. She knew that because it was the same for her, a ghost of the past come to remind them both where they started and how far they had come.

“Do you think they’ll make it?” Felicity asked once they were well out of earshot.

Howard sighed, turning his head back for a moment before replying. “If he’s anything like me then he’ll do whatever it takes to make it work.”

“You old softie…”

Taglist: @actuallysaiyan @pseudowho @desiray562 @bloombb @markleeisdabestdrug @kentoslvt @threezzyo @themossiestchick @thejujvtsupost @ratmilk14 @levin4nami @sweetpo1son @dabislilbaby @fandomsfanficsfantasize @hotvinimon @ryomance @justmanu @w-emma-fil @orikuu @sutaagaaru @venjrnjrbhrr19