#the lovers' library

[aceofbooks-creative-anthologies]

Fun fact about the Ace self-inserts: almost all of them are either from the USA (or at least one parent is) or spent a significant amount of time there.

MHA: Chishiki moved to the US after Oboro died in their third year. She finished high school there and then went onto college and eventually got her doctorate. She spent a portion of her PhD program studying All Might.

TR: Dokusha's father (brother to Takemichi's mother) moved to the US when he graduated high school. Dokusha was born and raised there, and moved to Japan to live with her aunt and her family after the rest of the Dokushas died in a house fire.

BC: Doesn't apply.

HQ(1): Henshuu moved to the US after graduating high school for college. She didn't come home to Japan until years later, when her father got sick.

HQ(2): Wright was born and raised in Japan to American parents. They had moved to Japan for their work, and she came along a year later. Her parents eventually divorced because her father was given a better offer in the US, but Wright already had friends and school activities in Japan, so her mom decided to stay instead of completely uprooting their lives. She spent summers and winter break with her father in the US up until her second year of high school.

Dr.S: Kamikaku was born and raised in Japan to American parents. They had moved to Japan for their work, and she came along a year later. The Kamikakus summered in the US, but Ace eventually stopped going along so that she could keep up academically with Senku.

FT: Doesn't apply.

BL: Kyori's mother moved to Japan from the US on a whim after graduating college. She fell in love with a guy that stopped for the same sidewalk light (opposite sides of the road, opposite directions) every morning on her way for coffee. After three years, he worked up the courage to run across the street (dodging cars) before their light could turn so that he could walk with her to get her coffee. And the rest is history.

[catbrarian]

cats and libraries ۫ ꣑ৎ

[knithacker]

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[soultied-z]

i wish i knew how to love myself the way i love others

[gentlemanmotorslifestyle]

[thvmuse]

Fictional men who have the "it's ok to murder but it's never ok to disrespect your wife" energy >>>>

[natureaestheticdreams]

Follow @natureaestheticdreams for more🌳🌿🍏

[n--m7]

[thebookaddict7]

Good books can make you homesick for places you have never been.

[nightmareevara]

I want to be part of your journey, your struggles, your everyday life. I wanna be there for you even at your worst, not just when you are doing well.

[readtheuniverse]

[aceofbooks-creative-anthologies]

Background: Ace was scouted to run the 10K for the Japanese Olympic team. She successfully made it through try-outs and qualifiers, officially making the team. The very next day, she fell. At the hospital, she was told that she'll never be able to compete again.

Ace is still using walking aids (crutches, canes, a wheelchair, etc. depends on what she can manage) when she arrives at Blue Lock. It takes about two months for Chigiri to gain her friendship back before she tells him what happened.

This is that conversation.

TW: vague mention of a suicide attempt & institutionalization

wc: 4056; written in Chigiri's POV

I watch quietly as Barou leaves the canteen with a tray of food for her, again. At least once a day, he's eating quickly and taking a meal to her quarters somewhere in the facility. She tries to eat with us (the old Blue Lock crew and the old U-22 team) for most meals—it usually results in some kind of lecture about the endurance training she's making us endure. But sometimes she has to take them in her room. I've noticed that it typically aligns with whenever she has to trade out her walking aids for something else. Today, she was watching the practice match from her wheelchair.

"Hey, Bachira?" I ask without taking my eyes off the door.

"Hmm?" comes his mumble from further down the table, mouth full of rice.

"You know where Bl—Coach Kyori's quarters are, right?"

"Yef," he swallows and takes a sip of water before smirking, "but I'm not telling you." His tone is teasing. I know that—it's just how Bachira is. But it doesn't make it any less irritating.

"What do you want?" It's absurd that I even have to ask him for this.

"I want Ace to be happy, of course!" I give him a glance out of the corner of my eye. His voice is cheery, but his face is serious. "And I'm not sure that you can do that for her yet." He takes another bite; everyone else at the table has gone silent. "You don't know what she's been through. Ego would probably kick you from the program if you caused a setback for her."

"What do you know?!" I slam my hands on the table as I stand up, knocking my chair over. "I was her friend for twelve years! You've known her for barely eight months! Most of which she wasn't even around for!"

"I know that you shattered her heart." He shrugs. "Repeatedly, in fact. I also know that she opened up to me, and not you, two days after she arrived. I know that—"

"She didn't even speak to me for the first week she was here! And she's only just started talking to Isagi—"

"Leave me out of this." Isagi picks up his food tray and leaves to sit somewhere else. I feel more than see a few others leave as well.

"Like I was saying," Bachira takes another bite of his rice, the picture of casual, "I know that Barou has stepped up to help her without asking a single thing. I know that Ego—"

"Chigiri!" Barou calls; he made it back to the canteen in the few seconds I had my eyes off the door. "She's asking for you." He motions with his head back towards the door, and then starts walking away without waiting for me.

"Don't hurt her." Bachira snarls as one final warning to my back as I leave.

Barou is rounding a corner as I leave the canteen. "Barou! Wait up!" I'm jogging, but he somehow stays just far enough ahead of me that I only see him turn corners as he leads me through a series of corridors. I'm pretty sure we've left the training stratums and entered some other part of the facility.

Finally, he comes to a stop in front of an unmarked door, and I'm able to catch up to him. He knocks gently (Barou can be gentle?) three times, "Hey, it's me. I brought 'im, like you asked." We can just barely hear shuffling on the other side before the door opens.

"Thanks Sho. Hi Red." She's smiling weakly, and putting most of her weight against the door frame. At some point, she changed from her blouse and jeans into the official Blue Lock sweats. Despite everything, it's comforting to see her in such a familiar silhouette. Like the last eight months had never happened.

"I told 'ya to stay on the bed. Ego gave you those buttons for a reason." He side steps her as he walks over the threshold, and then steps behind her, putting his hands on her waist. I rub at my eye as it starts to twitch.

"I know. But you also know that I hate them, and if I can walk a few steps, then I'm going to walk those few steps." She shifts her weight from the door frame and into his hands. It takes me a second to realize that they're both looking at me expectantly.

I step over the threshold and the door slides into place behind me. Barou and Blue start to tenderly walk across the large space; I see that his hands aren't actually touching her now, just ghosting over her sides—a comforting presence of sorts, I suppose. They're whispering, but I'm distracted by the rest of the space. I've only seen bits and pieces of her room at home through photos, but this feels almost sterile in comparison.

There's half a dozen large digital screens grouped together on one wall, all displaying video and photos from various games and training sessions. They all seem to be looping through footage of Raichi at the moment.

There are resistance bands and free hand weights stored carefully in one corner. Along the wall opposite the door is a bed that obviously has an adjustable frame, as it's positioned at about a 110° angle. There's a kitchenette with a small table and two chairs, her uneaten dinner sitting on the counter. There's a door slightly ajar next to it that must lead to a bathroom.

Most of the decor and other furniture are in the greys and blues that are all over Blue Lock. There's a purple quilt bunched up at the bottom of the bed; and a purple beaded curtain hanging in a doorway that has a basket full of folded laundry in front of it.

There's framed photos hanging up around the bed; her medals and trophies are on display on shelves above the footage of Raichi.

There's a kotatsu positioned in front of the screens, every inch of it covered in stacks of books.

And then there's the armchair awkwardly positioned slightly off center in the room—angled so that it gives an unobstructed view of the screens, but also an unobstructed path to the bathroom. Which Barou is currently fussing over, fluffing cushions with one hand and keeping Blue balanced with the other. My hands itch as I think about taking his place; but as I open my mouth to offer help, he's guiding her to sit. Neither of us miss the way she winces.

He makes a tutting noise before busying himself with warming her dinner. He gives me and one of the kitchen chairs pointed looks when he realizes that I still haven't moved more than three steps into the room.

I move almost robotically, feeling disconnected from my limbs, but I do manage to take one of the kitchen chairs and carry it closer to the armchair. I'm still standing behind it when he brings the now hot food and a bottle of water to her and sets them on the stand next to the armchair.

"Thank you Sho." Her smile is stronger, brighter this time.

"Yeah, whatever." He ruffles her hair before leaning down and pressing a ghost of a kiss to the crown of her head. He turns to me, "Do you think you can find your way back to the English dorms on your own? Or do I need to stick around and walk you back."

"Sho, don't be rude."

Barou crosses his arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow at me expectantly. It takes me far longer than it should have to find my voice. "Yeah, I think I'll be okay on my own. Thanks though." I clear my throat as he glares at me for just a few seconds longer.

And then he makes his way to the door. "I'll pick you up for breakfast, Ace. Try not to be asleep this time," is the last thing he says before opening the door and leaving.

Blue moves the food around her plate for a few minutes, only taking half a dozen small bites. Finally, she sighs, and sets down her chopsticks. "Are you going to sit, or are you going to keep staring at me from above?" Her speaking directly to me restarts my brain.

"Sorry," I step around to the front of the chair and sit as instructed. "I just don't think I've ever seen you so...."

"Broken? Yeah, it's new for me, too." I'm looking in her face for a spark of laughter, or a flicker of irritation. But there's nothing there. She won't meet my gaze—she's watching Raichi on the screens.

"I don't know—"

"Where do you want me to start?" she interrupts like she normally does, but there's no bite to it. She shifts in her seat, wincing with each movement.

There are so many things that I want to ask. "Is this my fault? Is that why you weren't talking to me?"

She barks out a laugh. "Maybe? But I'm going to lean towards 'no'. You have no control over the weather. As for why I wasn't talking to you, we both know it has nothing to do with my current physical state."

I nod. "Then what was it?"

She sighs and reaches for her bottle of water, wincing when she settles back in. "I was recruited to join the Olympic team. I actually got the 'we're interested' email the night you told me about Blue Lock. So when you left, after everything, I poured everything I had into training and getting ready for try-outs. I wanted to tell you—both times I came to the visitor days. But I didn't know how, and you weren't exactly making it easy. And when I found out you weren't running, I was mad. I had asked you to do one thing—"

"Wait. Back up. You were recruited for the Olympics? I didn't even know you were interested. How did I miss that?"

"It's been my dream since I was six." I have a sudden flash of a memory, six-year-old Blue walking up to me at the park after I had just run my heart out.

"You seem fast. How do you feel about racing an Olympian?" Her t-shirt is the same color as her eyes, which are the same brilliant blue as the sky. "There's.... no.... way.... you're.... an.... Olympian!" I'm doubled over, and each word comes out with its own breath. "Maybe not yet! But I will be!" She stomps her foot with her declaration, and her sneakers light up the same color as her eyes. "Fine.... Blue. As long as you're okay with racing against the world's best soccer striker!" "I don't know what that is, but you're on....." She pauses for a moment, her pointer finger on her chin as she considers my appearance. "Red! Ready?" I nod. "Set? Go!" She takes off before I even realize that she's said 'Go'. The race ends in a tie, despite there being no clearly defined 'finish' line. We agree to meet up the next day to break the tie.

"I mean, I remember you saying that when we first met. But you stopped bringing it up, so I thought it was just—"

"A passing fancy? No. I stopped talking about it when you got hurt. I didn't want to rub it in your face that my trainer thought I had potential, had a real chance at my dreams, when yours had been so abruptly shattered." Her lower lip wobbles, and she uses the back of her hand to wipe away unshed tears. Great. Bachira is going to kill me.

"Blue, I'm so sorry. If I had known—"

"That was the thing, though, I didn't want you to know. I mean, I did. Of course, I did. But you were so fragile. I had to spend five minutes at the park gates every time just convincing you to walk with me. I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want to lose you. I mean, we had just started talking, y'know? We were just starting to become actual friends. And then the further from your accident that we got, the harder it became to admit the truth, so I just didn't. But if you knew that you were actively keeping me from my dreams, would you have stuck around?"

I can feel heat rising in my cheeks. The truth of what she is saying hits me, a little too hard. "We were fifteen....."

"Yeah, I know. And that's why I kept it a secret." She leans forward and picks up her chopsticks, and takes a few small bites of food that has to be lukewarm at best. "Anyway, I've had to process a lot of grief around all of this in a very short amount of time, which is why I'm able to separate myself from it some."

My eyes rake over her, taking in all of the changes that I've missed over the six months we were apart. She's thinner, and a lot of her muscle definition is gone. The circles under her eyes were always dark against her so-pale-I-can't-be-in-the-sun-without-100-SPF skin, but now they look like she was punched in the face. But the biggest change, "When did you cut your hair?"

She uses her empty hand to brush it out of her face, just barely long enough to tuck it behind her ear. She bites her lip, literally chewing over her thoughts. "It was about a week after my accident. So about a month and a half after you left. I, uh...." She clears her throat and shifts her gaze from her food to Raichi on the screens. "His stride is still too long..... Where's the....? Shit." She's twisting back and forth, reaching under the cushions and pillows.

"What are you loo—"

"The remote! The fucking remote! I need to—" In a flourish, she's standing up and pushing the side tray out of the way. "I need to slow the footage down so I can figure out how much he needs to shorten his stride by, and then I need to recalculate—" She has pushed all of the books off of the closest side of the kotatsu, and is on her hands and knees reaching underneath it.

"Blue...." I've never seen this side of her. She's always so calm, collected, composed. She doesn't seem to hear me. As she's beginning to clear the further side of the kotatsu, I look around for anything that could remotely be what she's looking for. And I see it on the floor underneath my chair. "Blue. I think I found it."

"All these fucking screens. Fucking Ego can't just give me a fucking tablet or some shit? I swear to god he's just trying to make me mad." Under the kotatsu again.

"Blue," I stand up and grab the remote.

"Practically none of them know how to run in a sustainable way. I sent Ego plans for three months before I got here and there has been essentially no improvement. Was nobody doing the work? I can't believe—"

I move in front of her and get down on my knees. "Blue."

"Look, if you're not going to help, can you at least get out of my—"

"Blue!" I shout, grabbing her shoulders, forcing her to look at me. There are tears streaming down her cheeks, her mouth hangs open, stuck mid-word. I move my hands to gently cup her face. "I found the remote." Her breathing sounds erratic. "Hey, hey, hey. It's okay. I found the remote. Just take a breath. You're always so good at breathing. What—what was the technique your trainer had you using after a run?"

At the mention of her trainer, she begins to sob. "I—I—I'm—"

"Shhh.... It's okay. Just.... Just come here, okay?" I gently negotiate us so that I'm holding her, her head tucked under my chin. I use the remote to turn the screens off; it takes me far too many tries to find the right button.

We must sit there for fifteen, twenty minutes before her breathing evens out. I'm frozen in place as she starts to shift. "I'm sorry. I'll just—Fuck." She's furiously trying to dry her face with the back of her hands, and then the bottom of her sweatshirt. She stumbles to her feet. "Shit. Where did Sho put my meds?" She doubles over and uses the back of my chair to support her weight. "Shit. This stupid fucking body—" I scramble to my feet and step behind her, like I saw Barou do earlier. She flinches when my hands touch her waist.

"Sorry! I can—" I move to step back.

"No. Please. Can you—can you just help me get to the bed." I nod, not realizing that she can't see me. "I can make the actual steps, I just need you to make sure that my back stays straight, and that I don't tip over."

"Okay.... But you need to stand up for me to make sure your back stays straight."

"Right.... Okay." She takes three deep breaths and rights herself. "Fuck. Damn it. Okay, quickly and carefully, please."

It's only five strides or so to the bed. I could do it in seconds on my own. But it takes us a solid minute to shuffle across the floor. "How do we get you into the bed?"

"When it's this bad, Sho usually picks me up and—" I have an arm behind her shoulders and the other under her knees before she can finish speaking. She lets out a squeak and clasps her hands around my neck. My face heats up as I gently deposit her on the bed and adjust the pillows behind her. She lets out a sigh as she settles back into them.

"Oh hey! There they are!" She's reaching for one of several pill bottles on the shelf that runs along the wall. "Can you grab me the bottle of water from the armchair?" I nod and will myself to calm down as I turn around. My hand closes around the water bottle, and I notice that it's lukewarm now. I wonder if she has another in the fridge in the kitchen—

"I tried to kill myself." The bottle of water slips out of my hand. "Pl—Please. Please, don't turn around. I can't have you look at me right now." I pick up the water off the floor, but I do as she has asked and don't turn around.

"I slipped and fell. It was the day after—the fucking day after—I got accepted on to the Olympic team. I had gotten the call the day before, but the formal letter was in the mailbox. I had waited all morning by the door for our mailman to come by, and as soon as he moved onto my neighbor's, I was out the door. I jumped off the porch to try and get there just that much faster. I missed the black ice on the walkway. I thought I was paralyzed, I was in so much pain. But of course, because I was in pain, I obviously wasn't paralyzed. But I came down with enough force at just the right angle, that I did mess up my back and pelvis and hips pretty badly—nothing broke, and I'm told all the time I should be thankful for that. The minutiae of it all doesn't really matter, just that I'll never be able to compete. I might be lucky if I can run again at all. I—I tried to kill myself in the hospital over the news. So I was committed to the psych ward, and they decided that I was enough of a risk to myself that my ha—my hair—" I hear her sob, and it shatters my heart. But I don't turn around. She asked me not to.

"They cut off my hair, so I couldn't hurt myself with it." She lets out a shakey, watery laugh next. "And then Ego found me. The suicidal-recently-forced-into-retirement Japanese Olympian, who ran a ten-thousand meter race, with an averaged three-minutes-and-ten-seconds per kilometer pace. 'Obviously she has great stamina and endurance! And she's probably desperate enough to get out of the hospital that I won't have to pay her professional athlete rates! The perfect solution to my ongoing problems!'" Her attempts at mimicking Ego are very unflattering on his behalf. It takes every ounce of my willpower to not laugh, because it's not the time.

"But he promised to give my life purpose again." She pauses to blow her nose. It's wet and phelgmy.

"And here I am." I can't see her, but I know her well enough to at least know that there's a defeated shrug following that particular statement. "Trapped in a state-of-the-art facility, receiving six different types of physical manipulations and therapies, some of them multiple times a day. I'm taking four different pills for the pain, three for the anxiety and depression, and I have to drink eight of those nasty electrolyte-protein-vitamin-supplement drinks you guys get after matches. Every. Day. I have video calls with a therapist twice a week, and a psychiatrist once every two weeks. I have good days when I feel like I can take over the world, but the bad days outnumber them something like three to one. And the bad days are never consistent; some are better than others, and then some make me want to die to end the pain. And I—" Another sob. I'm crushing the water bottle in my hand.

"I'm having to train a bunch of idiotic athletes the basic principles of running so that they don't run out of stamina in the middle of a fucking game. Something I never had problems with, but it doesn't fucking matter because I'll never run again. I mean, HOW stupid do they have to—"

"I ran out of stamina." I finally turn around to look at her. There's a pile of tissues on the bed, and her eyes are blood shot, nose bright red.

"What?" The look of bewilderment in her eyes is something I haven't seen in a long time. And it's beautiful. She's beautiful.

"I'm one of your idiots. I ran out of stamina during our game against the U-22 guys; I had to be subbed out. I was devastated. I—" My breath gets caught in my throat. "I'm the one that asked Ego to get us an endurance coach. But if I had known that it was you that he was going to bring on—"

"You would have told him no?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying." I set the water bottle down, and then take the five strides to her bedside, take her hand in one of mine, and use my other to cup her face again, my thumb stroking her cheek. She places her other hand over mine, and then leans into my hand, and it's nice. Really nice. "What I'm saying is, that—that if I knew that it was you that he was going to bring on, I would've asked for an endurance coach a lot sooner."

That earns me a giggle. And then a chuckle. And finally, finally, a full laugh. "If you had just been running with me all this time, you wouldn't need me as an endurance coach."

"Yeah, well," her laughter has me grinning, "it's a nice-added benefit that I get to have my best friend here. It was getting really dull without having you around."

"You missed me that much, huh?"

"If I say yes, can we drop the subject and leave my pride intact?"

"I'll think about it." She winks at me and sticks out her tongue. Something she had to have picked up from Bachira over the last two months of them hanging out.

"Yeah.... I missed you." I finally abandon the last of my pride and sit on the bed to pull her into a hug. She relaxes into me before hugging me back, and I curse myself for not trying this sooner. Twelve years of friendship. And I could've been hugging her this whole time. Maybe even kis—

"Hey Red?" Her voice is muffled against my collarbone.

"Hm?"

"Can I get that water now? I could really use one of my pain meds."

[catbrarian]

reading ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

[gamperisi]

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Surprise Marriage

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> When you and Logan receive some...surprising news, it leads to a lot of unanswered questions.

Disclaimer: One or two swear words here and there. Mostly fluff, chaos, little angst, yearning, kissing and a happy ending. Not Proof Read.

The morning, so far, had been slow for Logan. 

Which, thankfully, due to the last couple of years, wasn’t out of the ordinary. Sure, a kid or two might forget to have done their homework or the coffee filter hadn’t been changed. But other than the small, common, everyday mishaps, everything had been pretty normal. 

But somehow, when Logan woke up, something felt off. 

Maybe it was the quiet hallways, maybe it was the fact he hadn’t seen any other professors in the break room or around the school, or maybe it was the fact that when he walked into the Professor's office, everyone looked at him with…worry. 

“What is it? What’s going on?”

“Logan, I think it’s best if you sit down.”

Logan looked around everybody and they all looked worried, too. Not “someone’s dead” worried, but worried enough to make him feel uneasy. 

“What’s going on?”

“Have you seen Y/n today?”

Logan shook his head. “She had a late night. She’s probably still sleeping.”

Professor X looked at Storm. “Go and get her for me, please.”

Storm nodded and made her way out of the door and towards your bedroom. Meanwhile, Logan was still confused. 

“Charles, what’s going on?”

The man took a small sigh and looked at the papers on his desk before looking back up to Logan. 

“Come on, clearly everyone else knows. What is it?”

The Professor went back and forth with himself for a minute before finally looking back up. “I suppose I should tell you. You’re married, Logan.”

Logan laughed. “Excuse me?”

“I received these papers this morning from a law firm in Oklahoma. It seems it took them a while to find an address for you both.”

“Both? What?”

“Here, take a look for yourself.” The Professor pushed the papers to the edge of his desk where Logan took them with caution and a lot of confusion. 

“What the hell? When were these even..drawn up? Better yet, who’s my wife?”

“Well, that would be the other question except-”

Just as the Professor was about to finish his sentence, the door to his office opened and Storm walked in with you not far behind. Everyone looked at you…worriedly. Like they knew something you didn’t. 

Logan looked annoyed as he flipped through a couple sheets of paper but when he saw you, he held the same expression but only for a minute then it turned into…into something else. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

Then you remembered. 

It had been laundry day. 

And you wore one of his shirts to bed. 

Standing in his t-shirt and some plaid pyjama shorts that you found in the back of your wardrobe, your hair down and slightly messy from having only just woken up, you looked around everyone. 

“What’s going on?”

“Well, Y/n-”

“Take a look at this.” Logan handed you the pile of paper he had been reading, and with a slightly tired and confused look, you read through it. 

What was it meant to be? A news article? A government contract? A kid’s essay who’s handwriting they couldn’t read…again?

But no. 

It was anything but. 

Well, maybe a government contract…of sorts. 

“This is a marriage licence.” You spoke aloud. “Logan, why am I looking at a marriage licence at eight in the morning? Oh my god, are Jean and Scott finally getting hitched. About time.”

“No,” Logan said. “It’s ours.”

“What?”

“It’s ours. We’re married.”

You stopped reading. Even if you had pretended to do so, all the words on the page suddenly became blocks of ink that you couldn’t make out. 

“What?”

Then the Professor started to explain. “We were hoping one of you could explain this to us, though if neither of you wish to, that’s completely fine. What happens between a husband and wife is none of our-”

“When did this even happen?” You asked Logan. 

“I don’t know.”

“A law firm in Oklahoma sent it over. Apparently it’s taken them a while to find your address.”

You thought for a moment. Yourself and Logan hadn’t been in Oklahoma for nearly ten months. And you certainly didn’t get married. At least, not from memory. 

“I need to sit down.”

Logan pushed out the chair beside him with his foot and you fell into the softer leather. You had just woken up and all of a sudden you felt like you wanted to sleep for at least a month. 

“We’re married? Are you sure it’s ours? Maybe they got the addresses mixed up and…I don’t know. Got it wrong?”

Logan leaned back and pressed his hand to the side of his face. “Flipped to the back page.”

And so you did. 

There was your name. And Logan’s. Signed and dated. 

You were married to Logan. 

Logan had become your husband as of ten months ago. 

You had become Logan’s wife. 

“I think I’m gonna puke.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Scott said. Jean hit him on the arm. “What?”

“Hard to not be a little offended at that.” Logan said, half under his breath, half to you. 

“Do either of you know when this happened?”

You shook your head, still trying to read the pieces of paper in front of you. When could this have-

“The library.”

“What?” 

Logan sat up. “We signed for a package. What kind of delivery company has us sign a marriage contract instead?”

“I don’t know but it had to be there. That’s the only time we ever…wrote our names, signed a piece of paper. It could have been this.”

“We would have noticed if it said “MARRIAGE LICENCE” at the top of the page.”

Then the bell rang. 

“We…should pick this up later. For now, let's just try and go about today as normal.”

You could only nod in agreement. And as everyone left, the Professor turned to both you and Logan who were sitting facing each other in your chairs. 

“I’ll give you both some time.”

Logan nodded a small thank you and waited until the door closed behind Xavier before he spoke. 

You were silent. Still processing. Your heart was like rapid fire against your chest and your vision was slowly losing focus on the paper in front of you. 

Logan pulled the paper from your hands and placed it on the desk before shuffling closer and holding onto both of your hands. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” One of Logan’s hands came to rest by the side of your face. “Just breathe. I can hear your heartbeat from here. Just…take a deep breath.”

“We’re married, Logan.” Your voice was quieter than usual. 

“I know.”

“We’re married.”

Logan nodded. “I know.”

“What are we going to do?”

“That one I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

You shrugged. “What are we meant to do? By all technicality…we’re married. Husband and Wife. According to this piece of paper, I’ve been a fraud to the government by not going by Howlett.”

“So we…we get a divorce?”

“How? Don’t there have to be…grounds for getting divorced?”

“So, we tell them it was a mistake.” Logan offered. “I’m sure we’ll be divorced as quick as we found out we were- are married.”

You could only nod. 

Logan rubbed a thumb over each of your knuckles. “Hey, we’ll be okay. It’ll all be fine. Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I woke up and found out I’m a wife with a husband. That’s what’s going on. Jesus, are the lights always this bright in here?”

You covered your closed eyes with one hand, trying your best to stop the pounding in your head. 

“How can you be so calm about this?”

Logan shrugged. “Figure you’re freaking out enough for the both of us.”

That made you laugh a little. 

“Come on, we need to get to class. And you need to get dressed. Unless you want to teach in your pyjamas.”

You looked down at yourself. “Oh, yeah. Sorry about using your t-shirt. Laundry day.”

Logan smiled. “It’s okay. Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.”

Hours later, you found yourself in a pair of jeans you fished from the bottom of your semi-fresh clothes pile and decided to keep Logan’s t-shirt on. A, because it’s one of the most comfortable things you’ve worn, and B, it was the only clean top you had. 

And after spending all day teaching classes, you found yourself going through each of your dirty items and throwing them into the washing machine, being careful to make sure there were no sneaky bright or dark colours that made their way into a wash they shouldn’t have been in. 

“Hey.”

You turned to find Storm waiting by the door before walking inside. 

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“After teaching a bunch of teenagers all day? Exhausted.” You said with a small laugh. And Storm chuckled for a moment before walking around you and leaning on the wall so she was facing you as you unloaded your dirty laundry into the machine. 

“I know that feeling but that wasn’t why I was asking.”

You nodded. You knew that. “I don’t know. It’s just…new information.”

“Have you seen Logan today?”

You shook your head. “Not since this morning. Though he did leave a coffee on my desk when I got back to my classroom after lunch.”

Storm smiled. Between herself and the others (including the kids - though they were yet to find out) Storm thought the best thing to happen was for yourself and Logan to get married. Okay, maybe not in the way it happened. But it was a positive thing. 

They had been watching you and Logan for years, becoming friends, becoming teammates, trusting each other, finding your own…ways together. Like with the coffee. Logan only did that with you. Or how, despite only knowing him a week, seemed to know more about him than anyone else did. 

You were both so close with each other than some of the kids in the school had questioned your relationship status with each other. 

“Have you talked about what you’re going to do?”

“What can we do? The most reasonable, and sensible, thing to do is get a divorce.”

Storm crossed her arms. “Have you talked about maybe…staying together?”

“What?”

Storm shrugged. “It’s an idea. Maybe this is a sign telling you both that there’s something more than just friendship. I mean, going off what you’re currently wearing…that is his, isn’t it?”

You looked down. 

“It’s laundry day. He let me wear it.”

“And are you going to give it back, or did he tell you to keep it?”

You were silent and Storm watched as small patches of blush warmed your cheeks. She had her answer. 

“Look, all I’m saying is, maybe this is a sign. Maybe this is your chance to see if there is something more between you and Logan.”

“If there was, something would have happened by now.”

Oh, how Storm wished that was true. 

But sometimes it was agony watching you both together. Like how at Christmas, you fell asleep against him by the fire and Logan smiled. It wasn’t a big grin, but he smiled. Or how you were the only one Logan would let near him when he had been impaled in his shoulder by a six foot rod. Or how you looked at him. And how he looked at you right back. 

There was more than just friendship. A lot more. 

“Just think about it.”

And with that she left. And you were left wondering. 

What the hell was there to think about? You and Logan were friends, sure, but…more? Sure, when you first met him, it felt instant. Instant likeness, instant trust. And that never came easy for you. Or Logan for that matter. And, yeah, maybe once or twice you had thought something could have happened. 

Like the night in the motel room, funnily enough, in Oklahoma. 

It had been one bed and you had both woken up and turned to face each other. You had both been talking for a good twenty minutes when the conversation lulled and you were both there. You felt something. You couldn’t put your finger on it but you felt something. But everything was cut short when the owner of the Motel came to knock on the door so he could fix the leaky tap in the bathroom. 

Or like the night when you all went camping with the kids. 

Somehow, you had found yourself sharing a tent with Logan even though it had been planned for you and Storm to bunk. 

You teased Logan on how happy he was to be bunked with you and not Scott. And for a split second, you could have sworn you saw him blush. Though it was probably out of embarrassment of your teasing. 

But that couldn’t have been something. It couldn’t have meant anything, could it?

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Logan turned and found the last person he expected to be standing by the door. 

“Scott?”

“Figured you’d still be awake and lo and behold, I was right.”

Logan watched as he walked inside and sat across from him. “Have you come to say something, or just be a dick the whole time?”

Scott chuckled, “Maybe a bit of both.”

Logan raised his eyebrows and took another drink. 

“Have you talked to her?” Logan knew exactly who he was talking about. But he shook his head. 

“Not since this morning.”

“Have you talked about what you’re going to do?”

“What do you want, pal?”

Well, he wasn’t being Logan if he didn’t want to skip the pleasantries. 

“I think you and Y/n should give this thing a chance.”

“Excuse me?”

Scott smirked a little. “Come on, you can’t tell me you’ve not thought about it with her. How close you two are, how you both seem to know what the other does before they even do it. And call it what you want, I think this is the perfect excuse.”

“Perfect excuse?”

“To see if something can actually happen between you two.”

“And why should it?”

“Because you’re in love with her.”

For some reason, that felt like a punch to the gut to Logan. 

“Look, bub, I know-”

“Logan, the way you look at her isn’t the way a friend looks at another friend. I’ve seen the way you look at her. We all have. From day one, that girl has been something else for you, and even if you don’t know it, the rest of us do. You’re in love with her. You always have been.”

“No, I’m-”

“You can’t deny it, Logan.” Scott told him. “Eventually something is going to snap and it might be too late. So, you’ve done the whole relationship a little backwards. So what? You’d only get divorced anyway if it doesn’t work out. But you need to do something about your feelings, Logan.”

Logan had to laugh. “I think I’d know if I was in love with someone.”

Scott sighed. Did he seriously have to paint Logan a fucking picture. 

“You make her coffee every day. You bring her lunch and sit with her every day. She is the first person you go to when you finally want to ask someone for help. And I know for a fact she is the first person you tell anything to. She knows more about you than anyone else in this building does, and that is down to you and everything you have shared with her. Anytime anyone looks in her direction, you aren’t too far behind her.”

“I saw you, that day, when the Mayor and his brother turned up at the school.” Scott continued. “The way his brother was looking her up and down…Logan you were by her side in less than ten seconds and we all saw the look you gave him. That man left the Professor’s office trembling. He also never looked in y/n’s direction again.”

“What’s your point?”

“That you were jealous, Logan. And that, for as much as you can and probably will try and deny it. You love her.”

The conversation lulled for a moment. 

“All I’m saying is at least think about it. We’ve all seen you together. Maybe it’s time you finally noticed yourself.”

Logan didn’t see you until the next day when he caught you folding laundry in your room. 

“Want some help?”

You turned around and saw him. “Sure. You can start with that pile.”

Logan entered your room, a little more awkward than usual, and started folding clothes. 

“How are you…how are you feeling?”

You shrugged. “Like normal, I guess. What about you?”

“Yeah, fine.”

IT was a slight struggle after that but conversation flowed a little easier eventually. 

That was something Logan always loved when it came to being around you. He wasn’t the biggest one for talking to people but with you, it was easy. Probably helped by the fact you could somehow change topics at lightning speed. 

Conversations with you were never, ever boring. 

Even when they were probably meant to be. 

And it wasn’t long before your fear surrounding being married…faded. 

Around a week later, a leak had sprung on one side of the school which meant having to bunk rooms for a while. Of course, all the kids went with their friends. 

But it also meant you had to bunk with someone too. 

“You can bunk with me.” Logan told you. 

You nodded. “Finally sharing a room. Wow, we’re really moving generations in this relationship.”

“After you, wife.”

This became a common theme, until the weight of the words settled down on both of you once more. 

A divorce lawyer had picked up your case. 

It would take a couple of weeks to get all the papers sorted, but yourself and Logan would be divorced by the middle of the following month. 

Like nothing had ever happened. 

Except, it just so happened, that was when something did happen. 

Scott and Storms’s words had been playing on Logan’s mind and yours. Not helped by the fact it wasn’t the last time someone held that kind of conversation with either of you. 

You found yourself in a similar conversation with Scott, whilst Logan had a similar conversation with Jean. 

And then the Professor approached you both, without the other one knowing. 

Except he hadn’t been to sit down and talk to you about it. He just made small comments in passing that left you both questioning more and more about your true feelings. 

And then Logan found you in the library one night. 

“Here you are. You didn’t come to bed so…what are you doing?”

Standing close to the top of the book ladder, you were scanning through different books with a flashlight.

“The main light is too big and the fire’s light doesn’t reach this far back.”

Logan blinked. “That…still didn’t answer my question.”

“I’ve got a new semester of lessons set out. I wanted to get a head start on finding the books needed.”

Logan looked around. “You got a list?”

You looked at him. “Logan, it’s past midnight. Go to bed.”

“That’s not what I asked. Where’s your list? I know you’ve got one.”

Sighing, you reached into your back pocket and held it out. He walked over and plucked it from your fingers. 

“There’s twenty six books on this list.”

“And I currently have three. If you still want to help, any that you find, just place them on the table behind the sofa.”

And so he did. 

By two in the morning, you’d both found twenty three books in total. Just three more left. 

“Is this the right edition?”

“Let me see.”

Logan walked over to where you were still standing on the ladder and handed it up to you. You flipped through a couple of the first pages as you slowly climbed backwards down the stairs. 

“Yeah, this is the right one. The last two should be on a lower shelf.”

As you finally reached the last few steps, you felt your foot slip and your knees crashed against the bars. Except, instead of falling backwards, or rolling with the ladder itself, Logan’s hands steadied you. 

“You alright?”

You took a second to breathe. Having your life flash before your eyes for a couple of seconds really knocks the wind out of you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed a little. “I’m fine.”

You turned in Logan’s arms and was met with his broad and solid chest as his hands held you at your waist. 

“Good,” Logan laughed a little, too. 

The sound of your life had always been like music to his ears. 

A comfort, even when the moment hadn’t been all that comfortable beforehand. 

And for that moment, time seemed to still. Any silence that had been in the room was slowly becoming defending, until your hearing focused on his breathing. The steady rise and fall of his chest and the quickening of your own heartbeat. 

The flashlight that you had held in your hands had rolled somewhere onto the floor when you slipped on the ladder. 

But you had never seen Logan so…clearly. 

You had known him for so long and had even spent nights and mornings in the same bed together. But for the first time, you were committing him to memory. Part of you felt like these moments would go, once the papers came through. That even if neither of you wanted it, something would inherently change between you both once the papers were signed and delivered. 

But something in that moment was changing too. 

Like how you were realising you never wanted to be away from him. That the best place on this earth was right where you were. In his arms, his eyes on you, and yours on him. 

You found yourself leaning in forward, almost as if, if you didn’t get closer to him, he might disappear. 

And he was doing the same. 

One of his hands came up to your face as he rubbed a couple of strands of your hair between his fingers before he slowly pushed it back and let his gaze wash over you. 

He was committing you to memory, too. 

His eyes locked on yours once more, just as his other hand trailed down your waist and to your hip. 

You fell closer to him. 

Or maybe he pulled you closer. 

Either way, you never wanted to be without his touch. 

What felt like an eternity later, you finally felt his lips against yours and yours against his. 

It started off slow. This was new territory for you both when it came to the other. It was slow, full of mixed feelings and…something else. 

Then it snapped. 

Logan pushed a little harder and you felt your legs hit the back of the book ladder just as his hand and arm snaked around and up your back, holding you flush against him as your own arms pulled him closer to you. 

Logan braced the hand that had been by your face, by the side of your head, holding onto the book ladder, keeping you both steady. 

And he felt your breath hitch as he stepped into you. 

Before you knew it, you were braced against one of the bars on the ladder as Logan’s lips went from yours, across your jaw and down the column of your neck. A small grunt escaped him as your own fingers scratched through the back of his hair and down the back of his neck. 

However, just as his lips returned to yours and his hands slipped under the hem of your t-shirt– his t-shirt, as your own started reaching for the hem of his…a clock went off. 

“W-w-w-w-w-wait. Wait. Stop.”

“Is everything okay?”

You swallowed. “Yes…no. I don’t know. We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Logan wanted to ask “Why? Why shouldn't we?”. But instead, lowered his head. He knew why. 

“You’re right…you’re right.”

Your own temple came to rest against his for a few moments, neither of you wishing to leave the moment just yet. 

“We should go…before someone comes in.”

“It’s two in the morning, who is going to come in?”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Then don’t.”

You stayed quiet for a long time, feeling Logan’s fingers draw circles over your skin. Eventually, the only sound you heard was his heartbeat and his breath, slowly matching your own. 

But no matter how much of you told you to stay, you tried your best to fight it. 

You and Logan were friends. Friends who were about to get a divorce from a marriage neither of you could remember fully consenting to. 

“Goodnight, Logan.”

Reluctantly, you stepped out of his arms, his light grip on your hand not letting go until you were both too far apart to hold on any longer, and made your way through the school until you came across an empty room. 

It was the smaller quiet space that overlooked the back of the school. Perfect for the nights when too much noise was keeping you up at night. 

Except, it wasn’t noise keeping you awake. 

It was your own mind, relieving the one thing you thought you would never do with Logan. The one thing you wanted most to keep going. The one thing you would never forget. 

When Logan woke the next day, part of him thought it was all a dream. But even he couldn’t have dreamed up anything from the night before and have it still feel so real in the morning. 

Then he didn’t see you for three days. 

Save for one moment when he brought a box of your things from his room, to yours. You opened the door, wearing another one of his t-shirts. One that went missing months ago. One that he had seen on your at least a dozen times since. One that he felt he was truly seeing for the first time, on you. 

The exchange, coming from the both of you together, couldn’t have felt anything more than awkward. 

And then another moment hit. 

You didn’t close the door. 

He didn’t know what to say. 

All he knew was that he wished he was back with you, in the library. 

And you were wishing the same thing right back. 

“I should-”

“You should-”

A small, awkward laugh came from both of you before eventually you shut the door, wishing you had enough confidence to open it back up and call after him. 

Two days later, Logan hadn’t seen you at all. 

And a morning meeting, with Storm going to get you from your bed, led to Logan realising why he hadn’t seen you. 

“She’s not there?”

Logan turned immediately. “What?”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know. She’s not in her room or any other place she usually is this early in the morning.”

“Doesn’t she have classes to teach?” Scott asked. 

“She doesn’t teach Wednesday and Thursday.” Logan told him. 

And it wasn’t long before Logan heard his name being called behind him by Xavier as he marched his way out of the office and to every room he could think you would be. 

You were nowhere to be found. It was almost like you hadn’t been there for weeks. The books you had taken out – the ones Logan had helped you find – were piled neatly in your bedroom. On your desk, you had a small wicker basket filled with letters and postcards, all arranged in date order, the newest ones being at the front. 

The pictures you had on your windowsill displayed all the people you loved the most. And included a picture from when you had ambushed him on his birthday. He rarely, if ever, took a photo. 

But he smiled, albeit a little awkwardly, with you. 

“Where could she have gone?”

Logan looked around your room. You wouldn’t have just gotten up and left for good. You loved teaching your kids too much, despite whatever else had happened. 

Then Logan saw the framed pictures on the wall, just across from your bed. 

“I’ll check with Cyerbro. She couldn’t have gone far.”

“She could be half way across the world by now!”

Logan shook his head. “But she’s not.”

A lot of them were confused, but Xavier watched Logan for a moment. 

“Do you know where she is?”

“I have an idea.”

With that, Logan reached for the wall and pulled down one of the smaller frames and carried it out with him.

“Hold on, I’m coming with you.” Storm called out to him. 

“You don’t even know where I’m going.”

“Logan, you look like you’re just about ready to punch a bull. I know, right now, even if you are the last person she wants to see, you are the first person she needs. But that also means I know what you’re going to do and, love you or not, Y/n wouldn’t want you to hurt someone or even yourself to find her.”

And Storm was right. 

And she was right to tag along. 

Because just five hours later, Logan had pulled up outside a local pharmacy. They had received a call on the way; they were heading in the right direction, but they needed to go into the town first. Any chance of finding where she was in the mountains lay where she had been all day. 

And it wasn’t long before Storm had to step in to stop Logan from almost killing the cashier. 

He had been dancing around the question, leading them all on different tangents of conversation about the town and the people in it before finally he got to his answer.

The cashier nodded. “I don’t know where she lives, but Connie might. She knows everything in the town.”

“Where is Connie?”

The cashier pointed out of the door. “In the bakery, across the street.”

“Thank you,” Logan told him, swiping the picture back up from the counter and walking outside. Storm stopped short behind Logan when she saw he wasn’t moving off the sidewalk. 

Then she saw. 

You had just left the building and climbed inside your beaten up, old Jeep Wrangler. You pulled out of your parking spot and drove off down the street. 

And Logan followed. 

However, halfway up the road, he started to recognise the place. He’d been here before, except he was going up the way he would come down and out of the cabin. 

So, he took a turn. 

He was at your cabin ten minutes before you were. Storm had stayed behind in the town to call the others and let them know what was going on. 

“You fixed her up well.”

You jumped at his voice and threw a can of pumpkin puree at his head. Though he managed to catch it before his head made a dent in the can. 

“Jesus, Logan.” Then you realised. “How did you find me?”

“You forget that I know you. The pictures on your wall. They’re a lot more recent.”

You didn’t know what else to say so you turned back to your front door and pushed it open, Logan hurrying after you. 

“Why did you leave?” He called out, placing the can on the side. 

“I didn’t leave.” You called back as you unpacked some of your groceries. 

“You disappeared into thin air but you weren’t abducted. I’d call that leaving.”

“I needed a break, Logan. I needed…time.”

“Time from what?”

“From everything. From you, from marriage, from the school, from the library. It’s like I woke up one morning and, quite literally, everything had changed. One day we were- we were teachers and friends…we were us, Logan. And then…we kissed and…I don’t know what we’re meant to do, Logan.” You dropped your head as you pressed your palms onto the kitchen counter.

“Maybe we’re meant to do nothing.” Logan walked towards you. “Maybe we keep things as they are.”

“What? Single and married?”

Logan shook his head, bringing his hand to pull yours to look at him. 

“Married and together.”

Your lips parted for a moment, your eyes scanning his face, waiting for the joke to have its punchline. 

“So, we did everything a little backwards?” Logan shrugged. “So what.”

“Logan…”

“I love you, y/n.” Logan told you, nothing but seriousness and truth in his eyes. “And I think you love me, too. But you’re scared. And so am I. Do you love me, y/n?”

You were trying your hardest to keep your emotions inside you, but something was failing. “Of course I do.”

“Then we start here, just you and me.”

“If something goes wrong, I can’t lose you. You mean too much to me, Logan.”

Logan smirked. “Good job I can regenerate.”

You scoffed and hit him in the shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

Logan nodded, a faint smile on his face. “I know. You’re not going to lose me, Y/n. You couldn’t ever.”

“Promise me.”

Logan nodded. “I promise. Can I kiss you now?”

Logan didn’t have time to finish his question before your lips met his in a searing kiss, your hands pulling him closer to you whilst his own arms wrapped around you. 

Maybe you had done the whole relationship thing backwards, but that didn’t matter. Not anymore.

Not when you finally had each other for life. 

[ozgurkedi]