No, Jack Zimmermann did not need or want a soulmate. And then this little shit came along.

Eight years, four months and change, and that's the moment the bond snaps into place.

“What is it that you do, Omega Malkin?” Sid says eventually, tired of the guessing game. Apparently, he’s asked a controversial question. There’s a tension in the air. Mrs. Malkin starts giving a very particular look to her son and Omega Malkin shifts in his seat and straightens his spine like he’s gearing up for a fight. “Hockey,” Omega Malkin says evenly. Sid’s fork slips from his grip and clatters against his plate. He looks up and across the table at Omega Malkin. -- or; Sidney Crosby is an unbonded werewolf. So is Evgeni Malkin.

It must happen during the Stanley Cup locker room celebration. Sid walks in, and sweeps the Cup up over his head amongst an eruption of champagne spray. Sid is so brilliantly, incandescently happy that he doesn’t even notice that not all the joy he feels is his own.

Mitch keeps it to himself most days, the fact that he carries around Dylan’s handprint.

Keigo has known since he was a child that his soulmate is going to hate him. He knows he is one of the unlucky few who have a mark displaying pain, instead of love. That he’s got his tragedy inked onto his body for all the world to see. Why else would he have the shape of a large hand wrapped around the base of his throat? Keigo's not expecting his soulmate to care for him, he's not expecting to end up caring for the League of Villains, and he's definitely not expecting a happy ending. He's wrong, on all accounts.