#*proceeds to write fic anyway*

[corviiids]

i get the lines blur but there IS a big difference between media which doesn't explicitly tell/show you precisely what happens in the end but does point pretty clearly down the intended road vs legitimate open endings where you're supposed to decide what happens completely on your own and multiple interpretations would be supported

[joyfuladorable]

"-eil! O'Neil!!"

She stirs as red blinks through her eyelids.

"...APRIL!!"

Something drips onto her shoulder, warm & smelling of metal.

She opens her eyes.

"Cassa- Casey..?"

"Don't worry," Casey says, straining to keep back debris that threatens to crush them. Her panic button continues to blink steadily through the darkness. "They're coming."

[hey-must-be-a-devilbetween-us]

okay so I've been just been thinking about Aziraphale and insecurities and the general census I've gotten from this webbed-site 'that he would never shut up that's stupid.' (in a non serious way lol)

Hear me out though, Aziraphale could change his corporeal form to whatever he liked but I think that doesn't necessarily mean he wouldn't feel self conscious sometimes.

He was issued this body from the beginning like a tool or a weapon and it has been effected noticeably by hedonism and enjoying earthly pleasures, so to other angels this is weird.

like even Gabriel commented and mocked him for being chubby in s1.

so! in general i think he really likes the idea of presenting himself being a cute round sweet little pooh bear (while in reality being a fucking killing machine, an absolute badass) which separates himself from the other angels, in a perceivably subtle way he likes to look different from them, not so severe, kind and approachable and comfy, like an old couch instead of a metal chair, but hes still obviously an angel.

but sometimes i think it wouldn't be too crazy for him to wonder if the way his body is now is something Crowley could ever find attractive (sexually or otherwise), and that's really the only place where the insecurity would stem from ya know?

(plot twist: every person Crowley's ever looked at twice is only because they looked like Aziraphale, but I'm sure you knew that.)

BUT i think the idea of changing himself to be something he thought Crowley would like would be so embarrassing and would seem wholly pathetic to him right?

and it would make him sad to think that Crowley is that shallow and really this is him, the curves and the marks and ruddy face and chubby thighs and round belly are all proof of how thoroughly he's enjoyed his time on earth, feasting and relaxing and reading.

and its ironic because all of those things have been facilitated by Crowley in some form or another because he likes to tend to him.

Anthony acts of service Crowley, i would go so far as to say that the physical evidence of Aziraphales pleasure and decadence and enjoyment are super gratifying, and obviously he thinks Aziraphale is as cute as a button (and if I'm being gross on main, imo Crowley thinks Aziraphales plump curvy loveliness is red burning hot, v relatable.)

so Aziraphale could change himself into something he might think Crowley would like, but god wouldn't that just be humiliatingly vulnerable, it would be admitting too much and really he wants Crowley to want him the way that he is, it wouldn't feel good otherwise.

I'm not saying he loathes his body, otherwise he would change it of course, (and he shouldn't he's lovely) I just think his feelings on the subject are probably pretty nuanced, two or more feelings can exist at once, ya feel me?

hahaha but yeah baby you're ALREADY THERE, peak form.

[cuppasunu]

🤓

[fleetsonourgecentral]

A request: Ebony celebrates Fleetway Super birthday along with the freedom Fighthers celebrathing Sonic's birthday (so Super and Sonic share a birthday celebration :D) but Scourge IS jealous because he doesn't get any gifts

Adfjdasfjds Scourge being jealous for petty reasons my beloved

~~~

"This doesn't seem fair," Scourge grumbled, folding his arms and glaring at his surroundings like he could set the decorations alight with his eyes alone. Unfortunately, getting zapped by the Master Emerald didn't seem to grant him those powers, but hey, it was always worth double checking.

"Life isn't fair," Sonic said, smug smirk fully plastered on his face as he lounged on his throne for the day. The throne in question was nothing more than an old armchair fished out of the dump, and was covered in rips and clearly falling apart, but it was clean (thanks to Tekno's efforts) and it was the nicest chair the Freedom Fighters owned, so they made do.

Scourge was surprised they were putting in the effort at all. Sonic's ego was so big it was a wonder his head didn't swell and become too heavy for his body to carry; there was really no need to stroke his ego by giving him a throne.

For some reason, though, the Freedom Fighters, despite usually being extremely enthusiastic about keeping Sonic's ego in check, had decided today was an exception. It was his birthday, after all.

"How did you even get all this?" Scourge said. Thankfully, none of the cheesy "happy birthday" banners had been strung up on the wall - those were dumped on Ebony's doorstep - but in their place were custom-made banners proudly congratulating the Hero of Mobius on another year of victory over Robotnik. Over the top and unnecessary, considering the victory in question was mostly just his continued survival, and thus his continued ability to be a future pain in the ass.

Not that Robotnik didn't have it coming, but still.

"We made them!" Tails chirped from where he was stringing up another banner, this one declaring today as Sonic Day. "Tekno designed most of the banner so it would look cool enough that Sonic won't complain, and then Amy and I helped decide what they should say, and then we all painted them together!"

"And you didn't invite me?"

"We both know you would've told us all to fuck off if we asked you to help," Amy said, although the teasing smile on her face showed her comment was light-hearted instead of irritated. Gross.

"These aren't new, anyway," Tekno said. "We made these before you arrived, so you couldn't have helped. Unless you found a way to time travel. If you find an easy way to time travel, let me know?"

"Sure, whatever."

And now that Scourge was looking, the banners did seem a little worn. Small rips on the edges, colors dulled, the paper crinkled; obviously reused over the years. He nudged one of the banners crumpled on the floor with his foot, then picked it up to inspect it, holding it with his thumb and forefinger. Sonic's painted winking face greeted him, and Scourge sneered at it. On the back of the banner, he could see a cluster of signatures. Some he recognised - Tails and Amy - while some he'd never heard of - who in the world was Shortfuse? - and some... well, some were just initials, none of which he recognised. He certainly didn't remember any friends of Sonic's who went by J.L.

"Are you going to stand there, or are you going to help?" Amy said, lightly elbowing him as she passed, snatching the banner from his hands.

"What's it look like? I'm gonna stand here."

"No you're not. Help Tekno bring the gifts in."

"I'm not participating in this. You do shit like this then wonder why he's an arrogant dickhead."

"Is it arrogance if it's justified?" Sonic said.

"Justify my foot up your ass," Scourge said, just as Tekno dragged him away.

The pile of presents was bigger than it had any right to be. The Freedom Fighters didn't have much money - apparently fighting for the safety of the entire fucking planet doesn't pay well, or at all, which is bullshit and all the more reason for Scourge to find the whole thing stupid - so none of them could really afford to go all-out with the presents, but the bulk of the pile came from local civilians who had caught wind of the celebration and wanted to express their gratitude. Over the past week during their travels, civilians would stop them, shyly handing over presents and telling them they were for Sonic's birthday, a token of their appreciation for constantly saving their asses, because they couldn't be bothered to do it themselves.

No one said that last bit out loud, but Scourge always made sure to mentally add it.

Why they couldn't express their gratitude with some fucking cash, he did not know.

"Grab the presents by the table?" Tekno said, scooping presents into her arms. For what it was worth, although the pile was bigger than one would expect, at least most of the presents were small.

Groaning with all the contempt he could muster, Scourge shuffled over to the table and started tucking presents under his arms.

"Did you drop off everything at Ebony's?" Tekno said. Her voice was low, hidden by the rustle of the presents, only loud enough for Scourge to hear. Not that he thought Sonic could hear them when they were out here, but better safe than sorry.

"Whaddya take me for? Of course I did," Scourge said, voice equally low, although that was more for Tekno's peace of mind than his own. She'd shush him if she thought he was being too loud, but she was also really bad at shushing people quietly, and ended up attracting attention with her shushes more often than not. It was really counterproductive. Scourge didn't know why Sonic had let it slide for this long.

"Just making sure."

Scourge grunted, but he did give the rest of the presents an obligatory once-over, just to be sure there weren't any that shouldn't be there.

Super's birthday fell on the same day as Sonic's. It was why all the cheesy banners had been dumped on Ebony instead of in the trash where they belonged. The Freedom Fighters - okay, mostly Tekno - thought it was a good idea to send a few presents over from all of them, as a gesture of goodwill and minor bribery to please not turn evil and try to kill them all again. It was a plan Sonic had been conveniently left out of; even with their less strained relationship (although that really wasn't saying much) it was blatantly obvious he still wasn't fond of Super. He wouldn't stop them from giving him birthday presents, or wanting to wish him a happy birthday, but he would wrinkle his nose and mutter a comment under his breath, which was apparently a problem, although Scourge hadn't figured out why.

Ebony had asked if they wanted to stop by, even tentatively offered a joint birthday celebration if that would make things easier, but she was swiftly turned down. Presents were a safe bet, the Freedom Fighters had agreed, because they could be dropped off at any time, and Sonic would never have to know, and they could wish Super a happy birthday without ever leaving Sonic's side on the actual day. And they could send Scourge to be their little delivery boy so none of them would have to do it; despite the olive branch, Tails and Amy were still wary of Super. Apparently Scourge and (somehow) Tekno were the only ones who weren't little bitches about him.

Well, Sonic wasn't a little bitch exactly, but he wasn't as cool and casual about Super as he wanted to be. So he didn't count.

"I'm just saying," Scourge said, hefting as many presents into his arms as he could, "if you're going to make the decorations look like a 'congrats on kicking ass without dying' celebration, we should all be getting presents."

"It's not your birthday, though."

"I'm his boyfriend, though. Shouldn't I get, like, a solidarity present?"

"No, because it isn't your birthday."

Scourge bit back a comment about how if Super got to have a birthday just because he was another Sonic, then logically, so should he. Because, well, it wasn't his birthday, even though all the celebration really made it feel like it should be. He thought birthdays for Sonics were the same across all dimensions - he was pretty sure he shared a birthday with Prime, eugh - but apparently not.

With another exaggerated groan, he shuffled back into the living room with the presents towering high above him, because second trips were for chumps, and dumped them at Sonic's feet. His own gift wasn't in there, but only because he'd already given it to Sonic this morning. The moment he woke up, in fact. Scourge wasn't about to be beaten by anyone in anything, including being the first person to give Sonic a gift.

Not that it was anything special. Scourge wasn't exactly rolling in money either, and Sonic was a pain in the ass to shop for. Humiliation had nipped at his heels when he handed the gift over, ready to burn him, but Sonic seemed to really like it - underneath the obligatory layer of snark - so it was fine.

Probably.

He eyed the pile of presents again, and tried not to gnaw on his lip.

Some of the civilians who gave them presents looked... well, not well-off, but comfortable. Not rich, not even close to rich, but able to at least afford something nice for the Hero of Mobius. More than Scourge could afford.

More than any of the Freedom Fighters could afford, though, and Sonic didn't really give a shit about his fans outside of the inherent bragging rights that come with having fans in the first place. None of those civilians knew what Sonic liked. The Freedom Fighters did. Scourge did.

He doubted any civilian signatures were on the back of the banner he picked up.

A party thrown by civilians probably wouldn't look like this at all. That would be far more elaborate, with more people pitching in to help, even more vomit-worthy banners and decorations hung from every wall and banister, singing the praises of Sonic the Hedgehog. Over the top, and licking his ass, and making a huge deal out of him. Exactly the kind of celebration Sonic would like; he always loved it when people lavished him with praise for his efforts in saving the world, the arrogant bastard.

Sonic didn't have any of that, this year. Oh, sure, the party would stroke his ego, but it wasn't lavish. Compared to what he could have, it was almost humble.

But. He didn't look upset by it. Didn't even feign annoyance that it wasn't as big as it could be.

Scourge couldn't remember any of his own birthdays looking like this growing up. No friends surrounding him, bickering as they hung birthday banners or fetched presents or argued over the cake. No shitty birthday chair fished out of the dump. No lavish party to sing his praises. His birthdays weren't humble like this one, but they weren't extravagant, either.

They were... cold. Empty. There was no soul in the presents, no warmth in the candle of the cake. No signatures on the back of a hand-made birthday banner.

Scourge swallowed down the ugly feeling in his stomach.

Whatever. He didn't need any of that shit. He was Scourge the fucking Hedgehog, he knew exactly how great he was. Who needed a giant party? Not him. He wasn't that fragile.

"Scowl any harder and your face will get stuck."

Scourge flipped Sonic off without even looking. "Eat shit, birthday boy."

"Are you sulking because Pixel Brain jumped on you this morning when he came to wish me a happy birthday?"

"He crushed my fucking ribs," Scourge complained, glad for something to focus on. The interruption had been rude, and Tails was fortunate they were already awake; had he done that shit while Scourge was still asleep, he would've gotten an ass full of quills.

"Right. And you're definitely not sulking because you wanted to cuddle."

"I don't cuddle."

"Bullshit you don't."

"I don't. You have no proof."

"Then you're gonna start."

Before Scourge could say a word of protest, Sonic grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him onto his lap.

"Fuck off and let me go," Scourge snapped, shifting to get comfortable.

"It's my birthday," Sonic said, smirking his stupid, smug, victorious grin. "That means you have to do what I say."

"I'm not doing shit, you can't tell me what to do, birthday or not," Scourge said, leaning further into Sonic when he wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him closer.

"You'll get the chair when it's your birthday, if it's any consolation."

"Fuck the chair! What about my presents?"

"We'll see."

"Asshole," Scourge grumbled, biting Sonic lightly on the shoulder to emphasize his point, but he only got an amused chuckle in return.

"You're getting off when the cake gets here," Sonic said.

Huffing, Scourge snuggled further into Sonic. They'd see about that.

[aria0fgold]

So I have this timeloop omori au that I was planning to write for its anniversary last year but the Horrors got me so I never got to continue planning it and now that I'm into isat too, I'm thinking of either repurposing the au or just-- keeping it while also giving it to isat.

[chiropteracupola]

There was a man from Donegal went walking, rather a ways away from home and afterwards a ways farther…

[and you can read the fic about it on an ao3 near you]

[gingerpeachtea]

🦀🧳🦀

YAY AIRPORT CRABS have 10 sentences from burning suns!!!

She fixed her hair while he worked, a feeble excuse not to look at him, though she also wouldn’t want him seeing her like this regardless. Sweat stuck wisps of hair to her forehead. She should’ve long since caught her breath, and her heart had calmed, but not entirely—a state that should be reserved for the company of aching thighs and pillow talk, not a poor stage performance. He placed her shoes neatly beneath her vanity, where she always kept them. Christian wrapped a loose hand around her ankle, his thumb slipping beneath the crosses of her fishnets to rub small circles over the bone. She looked down at him, still knelt before her. Her eyes fell to his hand [before he could/before he had the chance to meet her gaze]. “What is it?” she asked. She knew the answer. For all the ways he’d changed, Christian still hadn’t lost his boyish avoidance of directness. She considered some kind of physical comfort, perhaps a hand on his shoulder or cupping his cheek, but didn’t move.

(make me write!!)

[acaciapines]

everyone say thank you ash @iinkstrike for posting the many bungo stray dogs i've written for her over the years onto ao3...no i have never watched bungo stray dogs. but of COURSE i will write the most bonkers fic for my bestie of all time ever. and yknow what. it goes hard. there's even a steven universe au in there.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

another addition to "things i would love to write but will probably never get around to": series of ingo + the protag battling various people in hisui & reflecting on training differences, culminating in their battle vs each other where both of them come to the mid-battle realization that holy shit this person is actually on their level

[hueseok]

.

[koushirouizumi]

A Summary of COFTFFVerse DaiHika {Post-DigiAdventures 02, when theyre in 10th~ grade}

Hikari, half-possessed UNWILLINGLY, (KEYWORD UNWILLINGLY), by LadyDevimon, to Daisuke, as 'Hikari': You can hold me, embrace me, or cHASE AFTER ME IF I RUN AWAY !!! D A I S U K E: I'm too scared to do any of those things. HIKARI:

[cardhamine]

in the spirit of talking about our interests without feeling guilty, I will drop one fun fact about Breached which is that I have written nearly 20k words of a college AU ... rant in notes

*said like a sinner in a confessional and anyone reading this is the unwitting priest*

[backmarkerr]

if you ever think "this would be a fun fic idea for simi", there is a 99% chance that it happened irl already. like that playboy magazine reporter interviewing Seb found out, "That has all already happened..."

THE FINAL

[genshinluvr]

A Day with The Captain (and Others)

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Capitano x Isekai'd!Reader, Ifa x Isekai'd!Reader, Ororon x Isekai'd!Reader, Kinich x Isekai'd!Reader, Dainsleif x Isekai'd!Reader, Kaveh x Isekai'd!Reader, slight Mavuika x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You and Capitano journey into Natlan for his Fatui business, but you injure yourself in the process (clumsy you). During your trip to the Stadium of the Sacred Flame, you and Capitano meet familiar faces.

Note: Hiiiii, sorry for not posting in so long TT_TT I have been really busy and 2025 was not nice to me at all. I have decided to get rid of my posting schedule because it puts a lot of pressure on me, and I want to be able to post a fanfic when I'm satisfied with the outcomes. I'm going to try to post more fanfics, but the posting schedule will be different every time. If you want to be notified when I post (aside from turning on my blog notifications), I will alert everyone in my Discord server that I have linked at the very bottom of this post. I never realized how Capitano-centered this fic was until I completed it. Anyway, I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (also Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I know of, aside from bad writing after not writing anything in months. Maybe the mischaracterization of the Natlan men.

Word Count: 6.2k

“You didn’t have to carry me, you know?” You murmur as you rest your chin on Capitano’s shoulders, letting the Harbinger carry you on his back.

Capitano chuckles, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t have to carry you if you hadn’t tripped on a rock and twisted your ankle,” Capitano retorts. “I knew you were clumsy, but not this clumsy.”

Your face heats up at Capitano’s comment, causing you to bury your face into his neck. Capitano’s shoulders bounce as he softly laughs. You tighten your legs around his waist as Capitano adjusts you on his back before proceeding to make his way toward the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. While the other men are tending to their duties (work and other pressing matters), you and Capitano are in Natlan. Capitano has some pressing Fatui matters to tend to in Natlan, but you wanted to tag along with the Harbinger because you never really spend time with him alone. Then again, you’re usually not able to spend some alone time with any man because of how possessive some men can get. 

“We should get you medical attention as soon as possible. Your ankle is swelling up,” Capitano mutters, breaking you out of your daydream.

You blink and shake your head. “I may have twisted my ankle, but it’s not that bad!” You protest, wiggling your ankle to prove to Capitano that you’re okay. 

However, in doing so, sharp pain shoots up your legs, causing you to wince. Capitano stares at you, not saying a word. 

You look away, heat creeping up your neck. “I twisted my ankle a few minutes ago, Capitano. Of course, it’s going to hurt.”

Even though Capitano has his helmet on, you can tell that he rolled his eyes at your poor excuse. Sometimes, you forget how protective Capitano is when it comes to you. Heck, the others are just as protective, but Capitano’s level of protectiveness is on another level. Wait… is it protectiveness or possessiveness? The two go hand-in-hand when it comes to the men you hold near and dear to your heart. 

Capitano proceeds to give you a piggyback ride to the Stadium of the Sacred Flame, not caring about the strange looks people give the both of you as you two walk past them. The fur on Capitano’s cloak makes it nearly impossible to wrap your arms around his neck due to how puffy it is. 

“What’s on your mind?” Capitano asks, tilting his head back to look at you.

You adjust your arms around his neck, shaking your head. “Nothing. I’m wondering if we’ll run into Kinich and Ororon while we’re in Natlan, that’s all,” you lie. 

Capitano grunts in response, stopping in his tracks. “Why? Do you not want to spend some alone time with me?” Capitano asks.

You can’t tell if he’s joking or if he’s being serious. “Huh? What makes you say that?!” You exclaim, unwrapping your legs around Capitano’s waist. “Put me down.” You mumble, tapping on Capitano’s biceps.

The black-haired Harbinger hesitantly places you down on the ground, making sure you don’t hurt yourself in the process. You look down to see Capitano with his arm around your waist, refusing to let you stand on both your feet; you raise an eyebrow at Capitano while he continues to stare at you without saying a word. 

You waddle closer to Capitano, cupping his face (helmet?) in your hands. “Why are you pouty when I mentioned running into Kinich and Ororon in Natlan? We’re in their nation! It’s very likely we’ll run into them or Mualani and Kachina.” You said, staring up at the Harbinger. 

You can almost hear Capitano roll his eyes as he places his unoccupied hand over yours. “I’m not pouty. Am I not allowed to want to spend some alone time with you without someone interfering?” Capitano mutters, pressing his forehead against yours.

You gulp, slowly turning your head, but Capitano grabs you by the chin and forces your head to remain in place. Capitano stares into your eyes, waiting for your response. The longer you two look into each other’s eyes— well, you’re staring into complete darkness because of his helmet— the more your face becomes warmer. 

You pat Capitano’s head, smiling at the Harbinger. “I didn’t think someone of your caliber would feel and act this way when it comes to little ol’ me,” you murmur. “This side of you is very cute and endearing. I want to see it more, Capitano.”

Archons, you’re fighting the urge to squeeze Capitano. No matter how tall or short you are, the Captain towers over you. 

Capitano chuckles and pats your head. “Only you are allowed to see this side of me. No one else but you.” Capitano then proceeds to lift you and carry your bridal style, continuing the trek to the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. 

The once peaceful atmosphere between you and Capitano is soon interrupted by a familiar voice. “Aw, the Captain and the weasel are having a sweet and intimate moment! How disgusting!”

Capitano stops in his tracks and turns around, seeing Kinich, Ajaw, and Ororon approach the both of you. You can almost see Capitano visibly deflate at the mere sight of Kinich and Ororon. You give him a comforting pat on the shoulders, watching the two Natlanteans approach you and Capitano. 

Ororon nods to Capitano before turning to you, smiling. “[Y/N], it’s good to see you in Natlan. What brings you here?”

You smile at Ororon and rest your head on Capitano’s shoulders. “Oh, you know, just spending time with Capitano! We never really got to spend some time together outside of the abode. Capitano has some things to do, but I decided to tag along because I didn’t want to be alone,” you reply.

“Are you sure that’s the actual reason? Or is it because you have a fear of abandonment? You’re dating more than one person; someone is bound to leave at one point because they get bored with you.” Ajaw cackles.

If you had dog ears, it would’ve been flat on your head after hearing Ajaw’s comment. Kinich pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing and shaking his head. The atmosphere suddenly changes, almost like the warm air of Natlan plummets to near-freezing temperatures. You peek at Capitano from the corner of your eyes; if you look closely and squint hard enough, you will see a dark aura surrounding the Harbinger. Maybe murderous is a better word for it. 

You turn to look at Capitano, pointing at the tiny, floating menace that is Ajaw. “Can you give me permission to strangle this little shit?” You ask.

Kinich sighs. “I wouldn’t recommend doing that, but I’ll handle it myself. You have nothing to worry about,” Kinich says. 

You cross your arms over your chest and huff, sticking your nose up in the air. Capitano walks away, kissing the top of your head. You lean into Capitano’s arms, thinking about what Ajaw said. How in the world does Ajaw know that you have a fear of abandonment? Are you that easy to read? You’re so deep in your thoughts that you don’t realize that you and Capitano have arrived at the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. The stadium is as lively as ever, with a bustling crowd and children running around, laughing and screaming. 

Capitano helps you sit on one of the seats, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I would advise you not to listen to the creature. He’s merely trying to get a reaction out of you for entertainment,” Capitano says gruffly, kneeling before you and reaching for your injured foot.

“Ajaw is such a jerk. I don’t get how someone can tolerate something as rotten as Ajaw.” You mumble, wincing when Capitano gently massages your swollen ankle. “What if he’s right? What if you all slowly get bored with me and start leaving one by one?” 

Capitano laughs sarcastically, shaking his head. “I highly doubt that will happen, [Y/N]. If you have any doubts, we will not hesitate to quell your concerns.”

You stare at Capitano, engrossed in your thoughts while watching the Harbinger gently massage your swollen ankles. While both you and Capitano are occupied, the two of you fail to notice Ororon, Kinich, and a mysterious man approaching both of you. 

Capitano lets out a slow exhale, cupping your ankle with both hands. “I believe it’s best for Doctor Baizhu to check up on you when we return to the abode,” Capitano murmurs, his hands gradually getting colder.

For some reason, it had slipped your mind that Capitano’s vision is cryo. Wait— does he have a vision? Your eyes immediately start scanning Capitano from head to toe, searching for a cryo vision. Someone clears their throat, grabbing your attention. 

“Need some help, you two?” The light grayish cyan-haired man standing between Kinich and Ororon asks, smiling at you and Capitano. “Ororon and Kinich informed me of what happened, and while I may not be a doctor, I can provide some temporary relief until you take them to see Doctor Baizhu.”

Capitano stands up and shields you from the three Natlanteans. Capitano crosses his arms over his chest, scrutinizing the new addition to the group. You peek from behind Capitano, making eye contact with the mysterious man. The man smiles at you before glancing at Capitano, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ororon sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know you’re protective of [Y/N], and we all are, but Ifa can provide temporary medical care for them. Ifa is my friend, Capitano. You have nothing to worry about.” Ororon reassures the Harbinger, occasionally looking over at you.

Capitano continues to scrutinize the three men before turning to you. You and Capitano stare at each other as if communicating telepathically. Capitano holds his arm out towards you as you stand up, making sure you’re not putting too much pressure on your injured ankle. Capitano debates whether he should give you a piggyback ride or just carry you to wherever Ororon, Ifa, and Kinich wanted you and Capitano to go. Capitano wraps his arms around your waist and scoops you into his arms, carrying you bridal style. 

Ifa leads the way while Kinich and Ororon walk beside Capitano. You glance at the four men after making eye contact with bystanders as the five of you walk further into the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. You can’t help but realize that from an outsider’s perspective, seeing a Fatui Harbinger carrying an injured person with three other men following along is an interesting sight. But dear Archons, the number of stares you’re receiving is making you feel a bit out of place. 

You rub the back of your neck. “So, where are you leading us exactly, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Ifa stops in his tracks and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m leading you away from prying eyes. I figured you don’t want to draw a crowd while I tend to your injuries.” Ifa replies, shooting you a charming smile.

The five of you approach a table that is tucked in a corner of the Stadium of the Sacred Flame, away from prying eyes, just as Ifa wanted. Capitano sits you on one of the chairs and stands close by, refusing to leave your side. Ifa chuckles to himself, kneeling before you and reaching for your injured ankle. 

You gaze at Ifa curiously, wondering what he found funny. “What are you laughing at?” You ask, watching the man before you place an ice pack on your swollen ankle—wait, when and where did he get the ice pack from?

Ifa shakes his head. “Oh, nothing. I find it— what’s the word? Funny? Adorable? Interesting? Yeah, that could work. It's interesting that you have quite a few people wrapped around your fingers. A Fatui Harbinger being one of them is definitely interesting,” Ifa says lightheartedly.

Ifa wraps your injured ankle before propping it on another chair across from you. You look up at Capitano, who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you in the slightest, before looking over at Kinich and Ororon.

Kinich gently squeezes your shoulders. “How did this happen? You two weren’t ambushed by anyone while traveling to the Stadium of the Sacred Flame, were you?” Kinich asks, leaning against the table beside you.

You press your lips into a thin line, unsure how to respond to Kinich’s concerns. Ororon, Kinich, and Ifa wait for your response while you awkwardly sit there. You can always lie and say that you and Capitano were, in fact, ambushed, and Capitano saved the day as per usual and got you to safety.

“It must be traumatizing enough for [Y/N] not to want to say anything. Judging by the appearance of both [Y/N] and Capitano, I can safely assume that they managed to escape unscathed. However, during the process of escaping, [Y/N] most likely lost their footing, causing them to twist their ankle,” Ororon theorizes, stroking his chin. 

You stare at Ororon with your mouth agape, amazed that Ororon’s able to come up with an almost convincing theory. It's too bad that the only information Ororon’s correct about is that you twisted your ankle. Ifa looks at Ororon, nodding his head, seemingly impressed with Ororon’s analytical skills based on what he’s looking at.

You slowly nod. “Yeah, I wish that were the case, but I tripped on a rock and twisted my ankle while Capitano and I were on our way to the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. There was no ambush, fortunately and also unfortunately,” you reply sheepishly.

“Oh? Why is it both fortunate and unfortunate?” Ifa asks.

“Fortunate that both you and the Captain weren’t ambushed, but also unfortunate because the actual reason makes you look stupid?” Kinich interjects, raising an eyebrow at you with a small smile.

Your bottom lip juts out while you nod in response to Kinich’s question. Kinich chuckles and resists the urge to pinch your cheek. The sun is still high in the sky, meaning your day in Natlan has yet to end, and Capitano’s Fatui duties have yet to begin. The only reason why you and Capitano are in the Stadium of the Sacred Flame is because of your unfortunate accident. 

Your head snaps in Capitano’s direction, eyes wide with worry. “Capitano, you still have Fatui duties to tend to. I’m sorry my clumsiness resulted in us having to take a detour to the Stadium of the Sacred Flame,” you apologize.

Capitano shakes his head, gently rubbing your head affectionately. “There’s no need to apologize. While my duties are important, they’re not pressing matters. We can continue our journey after this,” he replies.

Ifa watches the way Capitano treats you, intrigued by the way you two interact. Ororon has told Ifa about their relationship with you, and it piqued Ifa’s curiosity because, from an outsider’s perspective, how does that work? How can over thirty people share one person? How does the dynamic work exactly? Are they dating each other as well, or do they all share you but don’t care for the others involved? 

Ororon nudges Ifa, giving him a questioning look when the two lock eyes. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for three minutes now. What are you thinking about, Ifa?” Ororon asks, raising an eyebrow at his dear friend. 

Ifa presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head. “Oh, nothing! Don’t worry about it, Ororon.” Ifa pats Ororon’s shoulders. “Capitano, if you’re worried, [Y/N] can stay here with the three of us while you’re away tending your duties for the Fatui. It’s best for [Y/N] to rest their injured ankle, and we can keep an eye on them while you’re away.” Ifa suggests.

Silence falls over everyone as you all wait for Capitano’s response. The Harbinger crosses his arms over his chest, staring at the four of you. You can’t tell if Capitano is hesitating, or debating whether he should leave you at the Stadium of the Sacred Flame with Ororon, Kinich, and Ifa. The ice pack on your wrapped ankle soothes the pain of your twisted ankle, making you feel at ease. You want to tag along with Capitano to his Fatui duties, but with a wrapped and iced ankle, it’s unlikely that you’ll be able to tag along with your Harbinger significant other. 

You gently touch Capitano’s forearm. “I can stay here and wait for your return, Capitano. I don’t want to be a burden to you. What if we do end up getting ambushed? You won’t be able to fend for yourself because I’ll be dead weight—”

“You will never be a burden.” The three men— Capitano, Kinich, and Ororon— interrupt your rambling.

Ifa’s gaze shifts from one man to another, amused by what’s unfolding before him. “[Y/N], are you aware of the power you have?” Ifa mutters, stroking his chin.

You look at Ifa, rubbing the back of your neck with a sheepish smile. “Hehe, what power?” You feign ignorance, looking over at your beloved partners from the corner of your eye.

Ifa raises an eyebrow at you, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk as he gazes at you with amusement. 

You clear your throat before turning to look at Capitano, Ororon, and Kinich. “But in all seriousness, I can stay here and rest. I shouldn’t be moving too much when I’m injured.”

Capitano sighs, unsure of how to respond. Capitano looks at your wrapped ankle, then at your face while you stare at him, waiting for his response. Even if he’s okay with temporarily leaving you at the Stadium of the Sacred Flame to deal with Fatui matters, he doesn’t want you to be in Natlan “alone.” Sure, you’ll have Ororon, Kinich, and Ifa keeping you company while he’s away, but you were looking forward to having some alone time with him, even though he has Fatui matters to handle.

Ororon hums, stroking his chin. “If it helps you ease your mind a bit, [Y/N] can still go with you, but we’ll tag along with you and [Y/N] to keep them company while you’re dealing with Fatui stuff.”

Capitano ends up reluctantly agreeing to Ororon’s suggestion in the end. Before continuing your journey to wherever in Natlan the Fatui business is, you all decide to take the opportunity to eat before continuing the trip. 

You stare at the menu, eyes wide. “Everything looks so good! I don’t know what to choose,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest while skimming the menu.

Ifa leans close to you, “Why don’t you order one of everything and try them out?” Ifa suggests, looking at you through his long lashes.

You stare at Ifa and then at the menu, debating whether to order one of everything, as Ifa has suggested. If you do, there’s a chance that everyone won’t be able to finish the entire thing, and you don’t want to bring back leftovers. 

“Is it possible that you’re scheming something, Ifa?” You mutter, raising an eyebrow at Ifa.

Ifa presses his lips into a thin line, suppressing a smile. You turn to Capitano, Ororon, and Kinich, only to see them stare at you and Ifa. Oh, shit, did something happen? Ifa nudges you and shoots you a look, as if he’s egging you on. 

You narrow your eyes at Ifa before pointing at the menu and turning to the other men. “Would it be possible for me to order one of everything on the menu? Minus the alcohol because I don’t intend on drinking.”

Kinich raises his eyebrows at you, leaning back in his seat. “Are you going to be eating everything? No judgment, of course.”

You slowly nod your head. “I’m trying everything! But I also want to bring something back to the estate for the others, you know?”

Everyone sits in silence for a moment, glancing at each other like they can communicate telepathically—it’s not entirely impossible. You all end up ordering everything on the menu and trying out every dish the beautiful Pyro nation has to offer. Because you wanted to try every dish from Natlan, you took one bite of every dish (with different cutlery, of course), and ultimately finished the one you enjoyed the most. 

After everyone finishes eating their food, they pack the leftover food and put it in their inventory. Sometimes you forget that you’re in a video game and inventories exist. Now you don’t have to worry about bringing back a large amount of food to the estate and having to deal with unintentionally luring saurians with food. 

Capitano turns his back in your direction and squats; you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist. Capitano grasps onto your thighs and adjusts you on his back before beginning your journey to somewhere in Natlan. You rest your head on Capitano’s shoulders, closing your eyes. The amount of food you have consumed was more than you would usually eat, and you’re starting to regret it.

Kinich peeks at you, eyebrows furrowing. “[Y/N]? Are you alright?” Kinich asks, walking closer to you and Capitano.

You close your eyes, nodding. “I’m okay, Kinich. Why’d you ask?” You mumble, cheeks squished on Capitano’s shoulders.

Kinich and Ororon look at each other. While you wait for Kinich and Ororon’s response, you slowly drift to sleep on Capitano’s shoulders. The gentle rocking of Capitano’s pace, the warm sun, and the gentle breeze are lulling you to sleep. Ifa chuckles, shaking his head as he and the others continue walking in silence, afraid of disturbing your sleep. Capitano peeks over his shoulder to get a look at you. For a moment, Capitano’s tempted to carry you in his arms rather than have you cling to him while you’re asleep. But at the same time, Capitano doesn’t want to disturb your sleep by moving you around just to carry you in his arms.

Ifa puckers his lips. “So… tell me more about your relationship with [Y/N]. What’s it like to share a partner with other people?” Ifa asks casually, tucking his hands in his pocket.

“We,” Ororon gestures to him and Kinich, “wouldn’t say that we’re dating [Y/N] per se…” Ororon trails off, scratching the back of his head. 

Ifa raises his eyebrows at Ororon’s response, questioning whether Ororon is telling the truth or is trying to deflect. The two men (Kinich and Ororon) have been spending a lot of time with you at the estate if they’re not busy, and for Ororon to say that they weren’t dating you is both questionable and debatable. Ifa notices how Kinich and Ororon act around you while the five of you were at the Stadium of the Sacred Flame. They dote on you, and it’s cute! The not-so-subtle stare, the longing looks they shoot in your direction while you’re not paying attention, the way they would smile whenever you speak. 

Kinich crosses his arms over his chest, looking elsewhere. The sight of blush creeping up Kinich’s face makes Ifa smirk. “It’s complicated, Ifa. We have been talking to and spending time with [Y/N], but we don’t know them enough to consider ourselves dating…” Kinich trails off, grabbing the back of his neck.

“Hey, if you guys want someone to be your relationship counselor, I’m here,” Ifa says nonchalantly, nodding. “It’s not too late for me to be part of [Y/N]’s little harem, is it?” He teases, the corner of his lips quirking up.

Capitano scoffs at Ifa’s cheeky comment, not taking his eyes off the trail before him. Ifa raises his eyebrows at Capitano’s response while Kinich and Ororon give each other the side eye. You mumble in your sleep and crack your eyes open, squinting at the sun. You rub your eyes and yawn, snuggling up against Capitano’s shoulders.

Ororon peeks at you, smiling. “How was your short nap?” Ororon asks, stroking your hair.

You smile at Ororon, blinking at him sleepily. “It barely feels like a nap. Like I only closed my eyes and did not fall asleep at all,” you reply, letting out a deep exhale. “I think the food is making me sleepy. Maybe I should walk instead of being carried around by Capitano.”

The men around you vocalize their protests when you try to get off Capitano’s back, but he refuses to put you down. You give Capitano and the others a questioning look while he shakes his head. 

Ifa chuckles, shaking his head and gestures to your still-injured ankle. “Did it slip your mind that you’re injured? You’re not allowed to walk or stand on your own until you heal,” Ifa comments, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You lightly smack your forehead, sighing. “Right, how could I forget about that?” You mutter. Your face heats up with embarrassment as you proceed to bury your face into the fur on Capitano’s cloak, wanting to die from embarrassment. Capitano chuckles and strokes your hair. The journey continues for another hour or so (you don’t know how long the trip actually is because you’re not keeping track of the time due to constantly falling asleep), and you all finally see a Fatui camp in the distance. 

Capitano squats down, letting you get off him. Ororon and Ifa steady you, making sure you don’t put any pressure on your injured ankle. Yeah, you twisted your ankle, and you can probably walk if you had some crutches, but that’s not going to happen anytime soon, especially when you know that Baizhu, your lovely Doctor boyfriend, will not approve of you moving around with an injury. 

“We got this from here, Capitano. You can go tend to your duties now,” Kinich says, gesturing for the Harbinger to go on ahead without the four of you.

Capitano nods and looks in your direction one last time. You two lock eyes (well, you technically can’t see his eyes, but you’re assuming you’re gazing into his pretty eyes) momentarily; you nod to the Captain as both a confirmation and reassurance. Capitano walks to the Fatui camp, leaving you, Ororon, Kinich, and Ifa behind.

“We can sit under the tree in the shade while we wait for Capitano, if that’s okay with you guys,” you suggest, pointing at a tree about ten meters from where the Fatui camp is.

Even though the tree’s not that far (to you), Ifa offers to carry you to the tree rather than have you hang around Ororon and Ifa’s shoulders while they assist you to the destination. While the four of you slowly make your way to the tree, Capitano makes sure to keep an eye on the four of you, making sure nothing happens to the four of you (mainly you).

The Fatui Agent clears his throat. “Are you alright, Capitano?”

Capitano nods. “Yes, why did you ask?” Capitano replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

The Fatui Agent laughs nervously, shaking his head. “It’s nothing, sir. Anyway, shall we proceed with the meeting?”

Capitano nods wordlessly, gesturing for the Agent to continue where he left off.

The four of you have no idea how long Fatui meetings typically last, but it sure is dragging on longer than you anticipated. Now you’re sitting in the shade, watching Kinich, Ororon, and Ifa demonstrate their abilities. 

You hug your legs to your chest, resting your chin on your knees. “Why did I get the sense of déjà vu?” You mumble, squinting as you try to adjust to the sunlight.

Ifa leans against the tree, tilting his head to the side. “Care to clarify? How does this feel like déjà vu?” Ifa asks.

Kinich and Ororon sit beside you, sandwiching you between them. You shrug, trying to think back to a time when this situation felt similar to the one now. This is the first time you’re in Natlan for this long and with just the men from Natlan, plus Capitano. Why is this feeling so familiar? Then, it pops into your head.

You snap your fingers, sitting up straight. “Ah! It’s because I somehow always end up injured whenever I step outside of the estate. If I remember correctly— I probably am not, when I met Kaveh, I also got injured,” You say. “But I could also be misremembering it. Shit, is my memory that bad?” You deflate, resting your chin back on your knees with a sigh. 

Ororon pats your head, smiling at you sympathetically. “I think we should visit Doctor Baizhu after we return to the estate. Not just for your twisted ankle, but for your head as well, maybe,” Ororon suggests.

You stare at the man and press your lips into a thin line. I mean, it won’t be too much of a hassle to get your head checked, would it? While you’re buried in your thoughts, a familiar figure approaches the four of you. Ororon, Kinich, and Ifa immediately stand up, greeting the new presence. Biker boots stop in front of you, snapping you out of your thoughts. You slowly look up: from the shoes to the leather-clad legs, you lock eyes with red eyes. Your eyes widen when you finally come to realize who’s standing in front of you—the Pyro Archon. You push yourself off the ground, scrambling to get up.

Mavuika’s eyes widen, quickly grabbing and steadying you. “Whoa, there! Careful now!” Mavuika chuckles, both her hands on your biceps. “It’s good to finally meet you, [Y/N]. I’ve been hearing great things from Capitano, Kinich, and Ororon,” Mavuika says, looking over at the three men with a cheeky smile.

Your eyes widen, staring at the Pyro Archon with a starstruck expression. The Pyro Archon knows of your existence because of the three (now four) men you hold near and dear to your heart?! Wait, they talked about you to the Pyro Archon? You look at Kinich, Ororon, and Ifa with a questioning gaze. Kinich and Ororon look away, acting like they don’t hear what Mavuika says to you. 

Mavuika’s eyes widen. “Ah! Let’s not forget the dear traveler, Aether. You’re all he talks about whenever he visits Natlan,” Mavuika giggles, shaking her head. “Aether wasn’t wrong when he said that you’re adorable.” Mavuika pinches your cheek.

You look away, face warming up under her touch. Today may be the first time you’re meeting the Pyro Archon in person, and you want to make a good first impression, but she’s already pinching your cheeks while spilling information from your beloved partners. 

Mavuika’s eyes widen before gesturing for you to sit back down. “Please sit down! I don’t want you to stand up with an injured ankle,” she says, guiding you over to a tree stump you didn’t notice that was there the entire time. After getting you to sit down, Mavuika turns to the others, her hands propped on her hips. “Now, care to explain how [Y/N] got injured?”

Mavuika reminds you of a mom with how she’s demanding an explanation on how you managed to injure yourself. Kinich gives Mavuika the rundown on how it all happened while you awkwardly sit there, not wanting to see her reaction to the dumb reason you twisted your ankle. After the brief explanation, Mavuika exhales through her nose while stroking her chin, nodding. Mavuika turns to you and pats your head with a soft laugh, “Ah, so the injury is due to your clumsiness. Aether said you were cute, and he wasn’t kidding.” 

You bury your face into your hands. Mavuika snickers and continues to pat your head, her eyes wandering over to where Capitano stands with the other Fatui Agents. Mavuika sighs before crossing her arms over her chest, questioning why you choose to tag along with the Harbinger. Mavuika is aware of your relationship with more than one person, and she’s not one to judge people and who they date! One thing she does question is how your relationship with around thirty men works out because she could’ve sworn there are at least two or more people who are possessive over you, and it’s not Aether.

Mavuika props her hands on her hips, gazing at you with seriousness. “[Y/N]. Be honest with me, alright?” You stare at Mavuika blankly, confused about what caused her to switch up. “What do you want me to be honest about?”

It’s strange that Mavuika, the Pyro Archon, demands that you be honest with her about something despite meeting each other less than an hour ago. Mavuika squats in front of you and grabs both of your hands, squeezing them. “These men have been treating you right, correct? If not, you can tell me everything and I will handle it myself,” Mavuika says, deadpan. 

You smile and gently squeeze Mavuika’s hands in response. “They treat me extremely well! I never knew what real love was until these men came into my life, Mavuika. Trust me, they fill the empty void in my heart.”

Mavuika nods, biting the inside of her cheek as she contemplates. Mavuika sighs and gets up, slowly releasing your hand before stepping away. When Mavuika steps away, you can’t help but notice how close she was to you, so close that her leather pants would brush against your bare legs when she stands up. When did she get so close to you?

Ifa and Ororon look at each other from the corner of their eyes. Kinich looks at Mavuika from the corner of his eyes, almost like he’s judging her by the look on his face. You press your lips into a thin line, debating whether you should say something. You open your mouth to speak, but heavy hands landing on your shoulders startle you.

“Mavuika, what a surprise to see you here,” Capitano says.

You look up to see Capitano towering over you, not sparing you a glance. You place your hands over his, gently squeezing them. “Ah! You’re back! How was the meeting with your comrades?” You ask.

Capitano doesn’t respond. Instead, he continues to stare at Mavuika without saying a word. The corner of Mavuika’s lips curves up, crossing her arms over her chest. Both Capitano and Mavuika don’t speak as they stare at each other for a prolonged time. You can feel the tension rise between Capitano and Mavuika as the silence between them drags on.

Kinich clears his throat. “If you are done with your Fatui business, I think now is the time to return to the estate with [Y/N],” Kinich says, turning to you, “don’t you agree, [Y/N]? We should get you to Doctor Baizhu to check out your injury.”

You nod, getting ready to stand up from where you’re sitting, only for Capitano to push you down. “Yeah, what Kinich said! Since you’re done with your Fatui meeting, we can return to the estate now, right? After all, I do need to get my ankle checked out, and we have leftovers that need to be refrigerated.”

Capitano nods, effortlessly lifts you and carries you bridal style while Mavuika scrutinizes you and Capitano—maybe just Capitano. Capitano turns around and starts walking away with Ifa, Ororon, and Kinich following. The five of you come to a stop when a familiar face approaches your small group.

You wave at Dainsleif, smiling at the man. “Dainsleif! What are you doing in Natlan?”

Dainsleif nods, now standing before your group. Dainsleif opens his mouth to respond, but closes his mouth when his eyes land on your wrapped ankle. Dainsleif crosses his arms over his chest, gazing at you with displeasure. “What happened?” Dainsleif demands, now standing much closer to examine your injured ankle.

“Well, you see—”

“You tripped, didn’t you?” Dainsleif deadpans.

You pucker your lips and nod, looking away from the blond man. Dainsleif sighs for the umpteenth time, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We’re going to need to put you in a bubble if you ever leave the estate,” Dainsleif mutters.

Your eyes widen at Dainsleif’s comment, rapidly shaking your head in protest. There’s no way in hell you’re going to be put in a bubble if you ever leave the estate! It’s not like you’re against being safe, it’s because—

“Then that will solidify the fact that [Y/N] is, in fact, an Abyss Mage! The bubble surrounding [Y/N] will also confirm that they are a hydro Abyss Mage,” Kaveh says, strutting up to your group with a shit eating grin.

You stare at Kaveh, deadpan. You throw your hands up in the air before slumping against Capitano’s chest, glaring at the other blond man. If you were a cat, your tail would be flicking with irritation. Kaveh flashes his pearly whites at you and reaches out to ruffle your hair, only for you to smack his hand away with a glare.

“Aw, come on, [Y/N]. Don’t be like that in front of our new guest and potential new housemate,” Kaveh teases, poking your sides after glancing at Ifa from the corner of his eyes.

Ifa quirks his eyebrows at Kaveh’s comment, but doesn’t interject. You burrow yourself in Capitano’s chest after hearing Kaveh’s comment. Ifa being a potential new housemate at the estate? You’re not entirely sure if Ifa is interested in the slightest! You peek over Capitano’s shoulders to look at Ifa, only to lock gazes with him. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you quickly duck down and bury your face into Capitano’s chest, ears becoming hot when you hear Ifa laugh. Okay, so it’s possible that Ifa could be a new member of the estate.

Note: Finally! An update after a trillion years! 😭 I swear, 2025 has been nothing but ruthless to me, and it drained me so much that I could not get myself to finish a single fanfic. I have a lot of things in the draft, but I am never satisfied with how they turn out! It's so frustrating. Anyway, my Discord server has officially been reopened! I was supposed to reopen it in early January, but that plan fell through. If you're interested in joining my Discord server, the invite to my Discord server can be found [HERE]! The Discord server invite links will be different every time I post a new fanfic, and these links have expiration dates. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr), Ko-Fi (Genshinluvr/Aaliah_exo), and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist: @rubyninja1 (I will be making a new and updated taglist very soon 🫡)

Read more of my works on my Grand Masterlist, which contains every masterlist I have created! | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories there, too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[uhdrienne]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 the embodiment of grace and deviousness

⛓️ pairing: seungcheol x f!reader ⛓️ genre: sfw, fluff, angst, mafia au, soulmate au ⛓️ word count: ~8k ⛓️ warnings: mentions of violence, weapons, open wounds. do not interact if it can be triggering! there's going to be cursing too because seungcheol is a grumpy one :") ⛓️ summary: as an author, it's almost poetic that your soulmate tattoo would be a flower. actually... half a flower. a snapdragon, to be exact. the petals on your arm, the vines on seungcheol's. it's even more cliche when you meet him on valentine's day. to you it means grace, but for seungcheol, he still has zero idea on what flower his tattoo is. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious at all, but during this season of love, you're about to figure out exactly what this all means for you and him, the leader of the city's most dangerous mafia.

author's note: suuurprise! to commemorate my first valentines' on this platform, here is a fic, part of @ddeonghwa-s Secret Cupid Event 💌 thank you so much to @ddeonghwa-s for putting this event together, and of course to the wonderful @kpopflowerfield for giving me this opportunity to write for you, i hope you like this as much as i did💘

here is the event masterlist! do support the works of all other authors too, all of them are so so amazing <3 happy valentines' day!!

depending on the POV, italics signify either the author's writing or Seungcheol's thoughts <3

"Territory 13 is acting up again, sir."

"Are they?"

"They're giving trouble. Threatening to cut off our chain supply in the north."

“Hm.”

“We’ve lost a few men fighting them for the past few days. The situation doesn’t seem to be de-escalating, so we reported to you.”

“Nowhere else we can push to weaken them?”

“They seem to have it figured out, sir. They outnumber us at every turn.”

"Well, we can't have that, can we?"

"No, sir."

"You have three hours till dawn. Take the men you need and get it settled. It won't be pretty if I don't get better news by then."

"Yes, sir."

"Go."

He swings his chair around to the fading sky of the night, nursing his glass of amber. He looks down to his full sleeve of black, red, and blue ink. Zinnias, dahlias, rhododendrons, and in the centre, like the highlight of a Naturalism painting, a whorl of vines and small, green leaves, linked to the vines of other flowers. He has no idea what it means, has had no idea since the day he got it. Ever since, all he's focused on is getting it covered, blended in with other flowers on his skin.

What is the point of such a mark on his skin, he wonders for the umpteenth time as he runs his hands over the permanent imprint, if the universe won't show me what it means?

He glances at the corner of his screen. 1:30am. 14 February. Hm.

He looks away.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we can proceed with cover design and vetting for you, ma'am."

"Oh... Not possible? At all?"

"I'm afraid not, ma'am. Your drafts weren’t given the green light from our Head of Publishing, and our team can't exactly spare the manpower to help you right now."

"...I see. And there’s no one else I can look for? Or….. any contacts you may have?”

“We can try, ma’am, but we can’t promise anything. It’s busy period for us publishers at the moment.”

“Ah. Well, thank you anyway. I hope we can work together in the future."

You put your phone down and sink back into your chair, covering your face with your hands. Your most recent creative co-director pulled out two days ago, another graphic design deal fell through, and now this publishing company. At this rate, you don't know if your book will even ever reach the local bookstore across the street.

You blow out a breath, look down at the only black ink on unblemished skin, the one that's been there since the day you turned 20 years old.... the petals of a snapdragon.

Your phone lights up with a text from a friend, and as you unlock it, the date catches your attention.

14 February. Happy Valentines' Day to you.

Your final straw comes when you're walking home from your office the next night. You rub your tattoo, which has been irritated the whole of today. You have no idea what it means, just that it can't be good for your soulmate bond. But you've never been concerned for him, not the slightest bit, since the day you got the tattoo. Because he's not something you're looking for right now.

Then you hear scuffling, a familiar thing here in the rougher area of town where you live. Your only intention is to walk past and ignore everything. From prior experience, that's the best survival tactic you have: Don't go looking for trouble, and it won't find you.

A man appears on the sidewalk and walks towards you. You walk faster, calculating the distance it takes. Two hundred metres and you'll be under the safety of the street lights. One hundred and fifty. One hundred. The man seems to be getting closer.

You hear a thud. Fuck. What was that?

You squeeze your eyes together and turn around. It sounds stupid, but you'd like to at least see the face of your captor before you see darkness. You read novels about this. When a character gets out of a captor's grasp, they can never tell the police what the kidnappers look like. If now is your time, you won't go down making the same mistake.

Except there isn't a captor nor a body bag. It's just another man, hands in pockets, bending down to survey the unconscious lump on the concrete ground just behind you. He looks at you, the exact moment that you too meet his eyes. And you feel it. At the worst possible time in your life, ever, for crying out loud.

Hundreds, maybe thousands of volts of electricity. A rising and a pop in your head, a sizzling burn on your forearm. Who knew a soulmate bond snapping into place could be this painful? You choke out a gasp as the pain sears, brands itself into your arm. The outline of the flower appears in full glory, the vines entwining itself around your arm as it links with the petals. It's beautiful and horrifying, and you watch as the flower you've been waiting for finally, finally blooms.

Before long, the bloom appears on your forearm. A snapdragon.

The man seems to feel the same thing, as he doubles over in pain, pupils dilated in shock and clutching his arm. His face is covered by his hood so you can't see what he looks like, but he turns and runs, and before long he's disappeared into the darkness.

A few minutes pass before the pain finally subsides, and in its place comes a wave of exhaustion. You sink on the concrete, careful not to stir your unconscious stalker, who's still lying on the ground motionless.

You've found your soulmate. On the day of love.

You touch your mouth when you feel a smile creeping up your face.

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

Seungcheol opens his door, barks an order to his guard outside not to disturb him unless "someone is bloody dead", sinks down on a couch and grabs a whisky. He downs it, the burn of the alcohol close to nothing as compared to that of the flower sitting oh-so-innocently on his forearm. He'll never forget the way the snapdragon petals appeared, as if they were burnt into his skin.

He stares at it, remembers the girl who gasped in pain just as he did. He never meant for this to happen. He was only passing by and saw a man from one of the local, problematic gangs sneaking up on you. He only meant to get the man away as he usually would for anyone else, because his principles, despite his rough line of work, never permitted him to disrespect women. He only meant to do one thing and go on his way. He only felt his arm burning right before he turned onto that damn street.

He glares at his arm, like the ordeal is its fault. His hand is shaking. It never shakes.

He didn't mean to feel his bond snap into place, never meant to meet you. He takes another long swig. This is the worst timing ever, he thinks darkly.

Meeting your soulmate on Valentines' Day can't be pure coincidence. If there wasn't a sign before that this was your chance, there very well was now. The next day you come up with a mission plan.

Find the man who is apparently my soulmate

...........

And that's when you sit down and have a good think. What are you even going to do when you do find him, anyway? Get together with him purely because he's meant for you, as the universe dictated? What if he's a rude jerk? What if he's ugly? What if... oh god, what if his breath stinks?

What if... he doesn't like you?

You continue writing on your notepad, absently, mindlessly writing sentences and paragraphs like word-vomit. Before long, you look down on the page to see almost a full journal entry, like you always do when you're anxious or stressed.

"Great," You mutter. "May as well write a book about this."

You enter the bookstore, waving at the little old lady who runs it.

"Good morning," She hums. "What are you looking for?"

You smile, thumbing through the different books on the shelf. "Morning. Something about flowers, maybe? I'm doing research... for a book I'm writing."

She nods. "Perhaps a book that explains the flower on your arm?"

You chuckle. Nothing could ever get past her eyes. "You caught me."

The lady laughs in return. "That," she says, hobbling out from the counter to rummage her inventory, "is a snapdragon. Yours is lovely -- a nice shade of red."

You smile. "Does its colour represent something, too?"

The old lady pulls down a thick book, flips through it and sweeps off the dust on the cover. "Every colour has its representation, but it's also your choice to decide what it means to you." She passes you the book. "In Chinese culture, it means prosperity. It's a lucky colour. For others, it could mean passion and love. It could also mean danger, perhaps courage..."

"Wow," You mumble, flipping through the book. "One colour and thousands of meanings?"

The old lady shrugs. "Colours and nature existed way before we did," She takes the book from you and goes to wrap it up in construction paper. "Is that the tattoo that brings you to your other half?"

"So the world says," You shrug, as you pay for the book. "I had the petals first, so the stem and leaves appeared when I met him, but I don't know where he is... or even what he looks like."

The lady nods in understanding. "I wouldn't worry. You'll find your way back to each other. I'd think that's what the tattoo's for."

"Do you know about them? What do they do?"

"Some stories say they help soulmates detect when one is in danger. Other stories say the closer you are, the warmer it feels... I've never tried."

Huh. You nod. "Thank you. So very much."

There is a soft shimmer of fascination in the old lady's eyes as she waves you goodbye. "I have faith that what's meant for you will come to you in due course, dear. Have a good day now."

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

Seungcheol hasn't stopped glowering at his tattoo all day. It looks... out of place. The petals aren't supposed to be there. It looks like an outsider, a strange feeling he can't place. If this is the bond acting up, he surmises, it fucking sucks.

He needs coffee to cure the pounding headache building up.

He orders someone to get his coffee, and as he sits to wait, he taps at his keyboard impatiently, trying to figure out how the tattoo had built up.

The petals came later, he thinks. Is that supposed to mean something?

When his right-hand man, a freckled, tan man comes in with the coffee, Seungcheol is still none the wiser on the phenomenon. So he lowers his guard (for once, he thinks bitterly, for a soulmate bond of all things), and asks the man who's currently laying his coffee cup down. "Lee."

Lee looks up. "Yes, sir?"

"What do you know about soulmate bond tattoos?"

Lee looks visibly excited. "Did you get yours, sir?"

"Asking for a friend," Seungcheol deflects immediately. "So, what do you know about it?"

"I have one, sir," Lee says, and rolls up his sleeve to reveal a... half-faded anchor tattoo. "I was so.... it felt so strange to meet my other half."

"Strange. What was it like?"

Lee shrugs as he sets down a serviette. "Can I speak freely?"

Seungcheol waves at him to go ahead. He's usually the man who acts like he has a stick up his ass, but this time, he wants to find out everything he can about having a soulmate. Just so I don't drag the poor girl down with me for no good reason, he reasons to himself.

"It wasn't all good feelings," Lee explains thoughtfully, hands pausing mid-air. "My soulmate... he was an underground weapons dealer. And you know people in our circle, we don't do feelings. They're liabilities, it's another thing enemies can use against us." He chuckles bitterly. "That was one of the only things we had in common."

Seungcheol doesn't miss the way he's speaking in past tense. "You don't have to explain yourself," He says cautiously.

"No, that's okay," Lee says. "It was a while back. See, I have fading scars to prove that."

"What did it... feel like?"

"It started fading and it hurt so much, I knew something was wrong." Lee shows his arm again.

"What happened?"

Lee shrugs. "He died in an underground turf war. One of those."

Seungcheol makes eye contact. "Did you at least have good days with him?"

Lee looks at him, then looks away. "We did. Almost left the circle for each other, but..." He shrugs again. "Time just wasn't on our side."

"No," Seungcheol agrees. "It wasn't."

His fists clench. So this is what could happen to both parties who were in the circle, nevermind a civilian. He nods. "Thank you for telling me."

Lee gives him a half-smile. "So is this about your tattoo?"

"Y- No, for my friend," Seungcheol replies, cursing himself at the slip-up.

"I see," Lee says, the mischievous glint in his eyes returning. Seungcheol knows Lee doesn't believe him. As his right-hand man for years, how could he not see through Seungcheol? He starts walking towards the door. "Well, tell your friend that if there's anything I learnt, it's that time is a bitch. There's going to be a lot of fear, and it won't be pretty. But... take it from me," He smiles sadly. "It's going to feel worse when you don't treasure time and lose them. After all...." He opens the door. "I lived to tell the tale."

When the door closes behind him, Seungcheol leans back into his chair and rubs his temples.

"Some soulmates you find in the lecture hall of your school. Some you find along the way of life. Some... are pre-ordained by the universe, in the form of a snapdragon tattoo.

But are these... pre-meditated, pre-planned people meant to stay?"

You put down your pen.

You're curious. At the world, for giving you a person. How that system came about. About your soulmate. What he's like, what he looks like.

But there's no straightforward way to find him. No instruction manual that tells you where to go and what to do.

You decide to take a walk that evening. No distance limit. Just wherever your feet takes you.

And it brings you to this cafe on a street you've never been, with soft music and oak furniture, and a smiley, freckled and tan man behind the counter grins at you. "Welcome to Choi's."

"Hello," You say, smiling a bit. "Could I get a latte, and... that croissant? It looks amazing."

"Of course," He says, before turning to another burly staff that just appeared. "Get her a latte, will you?"

The staff nods, and disappears behind the coffee machine.

You take a seat, and hum as you wait. When the pastry and drink appear on your table, you thank the staff and look down to see the milk foam in the shape of a heart. Mmm. You take a sip, already feeling a lot better.

The bell jingles, and a man steps in, hands in his pockets. and heads for the counter. By force of habit, you look up and send him a cursory glance. And then you freeze. The man has rolled up his sleeves as he speaks to the staff, as if they already know each other, and on his arms....

A full tattoo sleeve of flowers. Zinnias, dahlias, rhododendrons, and in the centre, a whorl of vines leading to the most prominent flower. It looks fresh, like it was inked in a mere five minutes earlier.... in a shade of brilliant red... a snapdragon.

It's him.

The man must have excellent situational awareness because he acutely notices someone staring at him and he turns to you. Your shell-shocked face, your trembling hands... and his eyes fall on your forearm.

Choi Seungcheol had never felt this thunderstruck, not even when he found out half his men had been bought over by rivals years ago. He knows he'll never forget this feeling.

So he does the next best thing. He excuses himself from his staff and leaves.

So you get up and run after him.

Seungcheol's in the middle of cursing himself and the world out when he hears your voice calling for him.

"Sir...?"

He can pretend he doesn't know you're calling him. Sure. He can do that. Keep on walking, Seungcheol.

Until he hears running, and a tap on his shoulder. Ah.

He swallows, closes his eyes, and turns around. "Yes?" He asks coldly.

Ah. So he's not in the habit of making conversation, you think. "I'm really sorry about this, but can I...."

"Can you what?" Seungcheol replies, even though he already knows what you're going to say.

"Can I see your arm? For a second? I just wanted to make sure I wasn't seeing wrongly."

"No, you may not."

You cringe. Silence dwindles between both of you. "Uh... right."

Seungcheol reaches for his car key. "Why do you want to see my arm, love?" He casts a cursory glance at your arm. "To see if I'm your soulmate?"

You look down, then at him. "...Yeah. I got this tattoo, and I don't know what my soulmate looks like, so..."

"So you're trying to find him in me, huh?" Seungcheol doesn't mean to be rude, but this is the only way to get you off his back, at least until he knows how to move forward. The least he can do is to warn you. "News flash, love. I'm just a man who enjoys flowers. But me as your soulmate?" He chuckles and presses a button. From a distance, his car makes a beeping sound and unlocks. "I highly doubt it. You'll need to know who we are before you enter our world."

"And who are you?" The words come out before you can stop them.

Seungcheol supposes it doesn't hurt to establish who he is, just so you'll have enough sense to stay away.

"The mafia, love," He says softly, as he walks towards his car. "I'm the leader, here. I'd advise you to stay away from me, soulmate or otherwise."

When his car pulls away, you sigh and look at your tattoo.

The biggest joke the universe could have pulled on you. Making a mafia leader, out of 8 billion other people, your soulmate.

When he reaches home, Seungcheol reaches for his phone. When Lee answers, Seungcheol gives him a long list of things to do, for the cafe and for the mafia.

"Has anyone caught on the cafe yet?" He asks.

"Nope," Lee answers. "It was a good front to keep track of the public, but it seems like a normal cafe to them. So I'd say everything's fine, boss."

"Good."

"Anything else?" Lee says.

"....One more thing." Seungcheol says, sighing through his nose. "A girl came to the cafe tonight."

"...Uh-huh."

"The girl in the white cardigan and jeans."

"Right."

"Warn her not to divulge who we are and what the cafe really is. With any luck, she'll figure out that the cafe is protecting us."

"Protecting us..." Lee gasps. "Sir, you told her who you are? Why?"

"To get her to leave me alone," Seungcheol mutters. "Anyway, just tell her to zip her mouth. I don't care how you do it."

He regrets the words once they exit his mouth. "Just don't hit her or anything. We're not in that business."

A soft laugh comes over the phone. "She your soulmate or something, boss?"

Seungcheol pinches his nose. "So she thinks. Just because we have a matching..."

An idea hits him. "Do me another favour."

"Name it, boss."

"Find out where she was last night. Just to make clear something for me."

"You got it."

A knock on your door sounds in the middle of the night. When you open the door, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you flinch when two burly guys flanking the same freckled, tan man from the cafe last night step in your doorway.

"Uh...you're from the cafe, aren't you?"

"I thought a familiar face might help matters," The freckled man says. "My name's Lee. And you?"

You introduce yourself cautiously, but you look at the two men. "So... what the man said yesterday was true? You're not really a cafe, are you?"

Lee shrugs. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with, anyway." He nods to the men. "We just came here to give a little warning."

You have a feeling you already know. "What warning?"

"Don't pry, and don't tell," Lee says, still smiling, but you sense the underlying threat within. "I don't know what business you have with us, but it should end now." He nods at you. "For both yours and our good."

The burly man on the left makes a point of nodding towards your home. "We know where you live, and we can find you no matter where you go. Don't complicate things for yourself. You won't like what comes next."

And they leave, leaving you shaking in the doorway. Anger courses through you. Your soulmate sent people after you to push you away.

You don't know everything about soulmate bonds, but what you do know is that soulmates are drawn to each other: to protect, and to take care of. Either your soulmate is very, very clueless; or he just doesn't want anything to do with you. You have to find out which answer it is before you decide whether to let go of him or not.

Alright, Mr. Mafia Boss, you clench your teeth. I don't have to deal with your mafia directly to get an audience with you. Let's see how far this game can go.

Moonlight slants through his ceiling-to-floor windows. Seungcheol grits his teeth as he watches the surveillance that Lee found for him. You, walking home the night of 14 February, around 10pm, going faster and faster as that son-of-a-bitch followed you. His arms rest on his chair as he sees himself appear and knock the guy out cold.

He sighs. So it really was you. He'd recognise that face anywhere.

He looks at his tattoo once more, hating how perfectly it entwines with the rest of his tattoos. So much for covering it up. He turns his arm around again and again. It's exquisite, but it lies there like a burden.

And it picks the perfect timing to start burning. Seungcheol grunts in pain, clutching his arm as it burns, sears with the same pain it did that night. He doesn't know how the system came about, but what he knows is this: You're in danger. And as annoyed as he is about this whole situation, he has to find you. If only to make the pain stop.

He reaches for his telephone, and when the other line picks up he hisses: "Find her. Now. Scour all the surveillance in the city. I don't care what you have to do, but find her."

He can hear his man barking out orders in the background, and he shakily puts the phone down. Lee comes bursting into the room, grabs Seungcheol's arm to check on him. Normally, Seungcheol would have the head of anyone who dared to touch him without permission, but given Lee's position in this predicament, he allows him to.

"Is it supposed to be like this?" Seungcheol groans out. "It hurts like hell."

"Yup," Lee mutters. "It is. Looks and seems exactly like mine whenever Bri got into danger."

"Danger--" Seungcheol scowls and tries getting up. "You mean she's injured?"

Lee shrugs. "I don't know if it extends to normal minor situations, but whenever Bri got into a fight, I'd feel my arm burning."

"Her, fight. Don't make me laugh," Seungcheol scoffs, then grunts again as another wave of pain hits him. "She looks like she couldn't hurt a fly."

"We've located her, boss," Another man comes into the room, holding a laptop towards him.

"Where?"

When silence answers him, he hisses. "I didn't ask you this question for you to not fucking reply. I asked where?"

"The border of Territory 7, sir."

"What the hell is she doing there? Is she an underworld member, too?" Lee wonders out loud.

Seungcheol pushes himself up off his seat, wincing as his arm throbs slightly. "Fuck if I know. But I guess I have to find her if I want this pain to stop."

"I'll get men and go with you," Lee starts, but Seungcheol waves him off. "No need. We don't need to stir up a fuss, not when the territories are already misbehaving these few weeks. I'll get her, and... figure it out later."

You're tapping your foot as you wander the edges of the city's largest turf. It's well-known that civilians shouldn't pass by here if they want to get home alive and well, but with the recent news of unrest stirring in such turfs, you figure that it's the best way to seek Seungcheol out. It's stupid, but it's your best bet. Plus, you figure that the nearer you are to

You must be near a group of militants on patrol duty, because you can hear hushed orders and boots crunching. You sigh and look at your watch.

"Are you actually stupid?"

You raise your head. "So it worked. So nice of you to join me this evening."

Seungcheol storms towards you. "So you tricked me?"

"Wasn't a trick." You mutter. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You are a nutcase," He seethes, as he grabs your arm and starts dragging you away. "Do you have any idea what would happen if anyone caught you? These few places are red-light districts now. You're not supposed to be here."

"I wouldn't know. You came anyway."

Seungcheol lets you go and huffs at you. "Go home, and don't get any more stupid ideas. Yes, I'm your soulmate. Yes, my tattoo is also a snapdragon, and I guess I can sense when you're in places you shouldn't be because my arm fucking burns, okay? Got your answer?"

"No," You say defiantly. "I haven't found out one thing. Why were you so desperate to deny that you weren't my soulmate? But you still came running anyway."

"This," He hisses, stepping closer to you, "is a pain in my ass. I can't work if my tattoo's going to start hurting every half hour. So for god's sake, please stay out of anything that doesn't concern you. Do not run into a lion's den to get an audience with me."

"So you're going to give me a way to contact you?" You shrug. "Sure, if that will keep me from making rash decisions."

Seungcheol furrows his brows. "What gave you that idea?"

"Well, you can't think I'm going to let you go after all of this, do you?"

What??

"Did I not make myself clear en-"

"Oh, you did," You say. "Like you said, you came running because you could sense I was somewhere I shouldn't be. So you can't stay away no matter how much I piss you off, can you?"

"I nev-"

"That's how soulmates work, Mr. Mafia Boss." You say smugly. "We can't stay away from each other, like a moth can't stray from the light."

Seungcheol scowls at you and then proceeds to maintain a ten-second glaring competition until he blows out a breath.

"Ten more reasons why I hate this bond so much," He mutters, before pulling out a business card and shoving it into your hands. "I've got ground rules. Don't call me for stupid reasons. Do not call to ask me out privately. Do not give my number to anyone for any reason. No exceptions, unless you want a bullet through your brain."

"Did you just threaten to shoot me...." You peruse the business card. "Choi Seungcheol?"

"Yes, and what about it?"

"You know nothing about being a gentleman."

"Never said I was one. Get in the car."

"You''re going to shoot me in there? With the expensive leather?"

"I will if you don't keep your mouth shut and start moving."

You zip it and follow him.

Success. You've met your soulmate. (You're sitting in his car, too.)

He said you couldn't call. But texting exists, so.... You're determined to bug him until he takes notice.

"It's me."

He leaves you on read.

The next day you add another message. "I guess I'll write to an empty chatroom. I'm doing good, I just had a sandwich for breakfast and I'm going to continue writing now."

5pm: "I'm done with my next chapter. Trying to find an illustrator for the cover. I'm craving soup."

11pm: "goodnight! hope your work or whatever's going well. You can't tell me anything about what you're doing?"

And so it continues, for a full three days, with silly texts about a sentence error you wrote, or a funny thing you ate, or asking him what he's doing at work, until you get a single response from him that has you rolling your eyes: "Be quiet."

You do not, to Seungcheol's chagrin, keep quiet.

He didn't think you could talk so much to someone who never replied. In a week he'd all but figured out your life pattern: wake up, eat, write (he had no idea what you were writing), find publishers and illustrators, take a walk maybe in the late afternoon, eat again, and write until it was time to sleep. You lead an awfully idyllic life compared to him, he thinks as he closes your text.

You also seem to have a love for soup, he realises. The weirdest fucking craving.

And croissants from his fake cafe. You sent him photos of it across the week, and he wonders how you never get tired of the damn thing. Your food cravings change from soup to something else every now and then, getting more bizarre with each one. (Pasta with pickles? Really?)

It was cute. (He cursed himself out after thinking about it.)

And so it goes for two more weeks until Seungcheol decides this has to stop. He texts you back for once, and you're elated as you read his text.

"Be ready Saturday night. Zip it for now, will you? I'm trying to work."

You're waiting outside your house when he pulls up. You already know that he knows exactly where you live, so you never bothered texting him your address. You get in once he stops the car, his grumpy face still on full display.

"Thanks for taking me out," You say, smiling at him, and he grunts as he pulls out and steps on the accelerator. "Isn't that exactly what you wanted?"

You shrug. "And you gave in. Is that a soulmate thing?"

"I will drop you off right this second if you say 'soulmate' one more time." He threatens.

He rubs the sleeve covering the skin on which his tattoo lies, and you frown. "Is it causing you trouble? I haven't gone anywhere weird recently, though."

"No. And you better not have."

He doesn't say much after that, simply drives about twenty minutes to a sleek, al fresco restaurant. The neon lights, warm-looking space draws you in, and when you read the menu outside while waiting for him to park...

"Soup? So you did read my texts!"

"You won't shut up about it. A little hard to miss it even if I wanted to."

You chuckle and flip through the menu. "So what're you getting?"

"You pick, you're the one craving soup of all things," He mutters absently. "Don't really care. Just came to get a message across."

"What is it?"

"Sit first before I tell you."

And so you do. He lets you get tomato soup and grilled cheese, pasta and a soda, and says absolutely nothing. He eats a little, rolling his eyes at the amount you inhale. Finally, you put down your fork. "So what did you want to tell me?"

He swallows his water before putting the glass down. "Just one thing."

You cock your head. "I'm listening."

"Why are you contacting me personally, so often? I'm sure I said not to do that."

"You said not to call," You reply, smiling. When he looks like he's about to protest, you smile again. "So I texted."

"You're fucking impossible," He mutters.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing. Anyway, stop that. I'm a busy man."

"I know. That's why I text, like, three times in a day. It's not a lot, is it?"

His hand comes down on the table, not loud enough to cause a scene but firm enough to catch your attention. "I don't have the time to entertain you, Miss Y/N. You know who I am, and that was my fault, and I think it would do you good to remember that."

"Pulling the mafia leader card on me, again?" You sigh and shake your head. "I don't know what you do, and you won't tell me. I write about people like you and mobsters. You're exactly what I write in my books."

"I am not one of your little book characters," Seungcheol hisses back. "I am not a work of fiction or something you pull out of your imagination and twist about like your plaything. I am real, and I am someone who can hurt you if I want to. And I don't owe you any information. Stop bothering me, got it?"

"Is that why you brought me here?" A surge of confidence and defiance grips you. He couldn't have taken you out to somewhere he knew you'd enjoy for no reason.

He scowls. “I can go wherever I want. Don’t read too much into it.”

You grin. “Sure.”

He nods.

“So can I continue messaging you?”

He groans. “Did you not get any of what I just said?”

You shrug. "Guess you’ll have to tell me a few more times.”

He sighs loudly, and his fingers drum the table as he seemingly goes deep into thought. The scowl is almost becoming a permanent fixture on his face, you think.

After a long moment, he groans and utters: “Next Sunday. 6pm.”

He takes you out two more times. The next Sunday, to a small restaurant you chose. This time he ate better, the consistent strain in his forehead almost easing as he bit into the lasagna.

He answered your questions, albeit grumpily, and when you got off his car that night, you thought, as you opened your journal up again, that he was finally, finally warming up to you.

But the next time he brings you out, he is visibly in a stormy mood, barely making conversation and stabbing his meat with his fork.

“Is there something wrong?” You ask.

“No.”

And there the conversation ends.

As dessert rolls in, you try one more time.

“So… how’s work lately?”

“Fine.”

“Ah.”

Please talk. Please.

“You know, I always wonder what a mafia boss does,” You pick up your spoon. “Like, order kills or something?”

Seungcheol picks up his glass. “I remember telling you not to ask about what I do.”

“And you don’t have to give me a full answer,” You shrug. “I’m just asking for a general idea. I thought it’d be nice if I got to know what you do.”

Seungcheol sits back in his seat. "Don't read too much into what I do, love." He takes another sip of water. "You can't honestly think I'm interested in you enough to reveal myself after a few meals. You said you're a writer. You shouldn't be this easy to lie to, you know that?"

Yeah, screw this.

Any confidence you had sizzles out. Easy to lie to. He thinks you're a gullible, small girl eating up every morsel of attention he deigns to give you when he feels like it. Red-hot, burning humiliation and shame rise in you.

After a long pause, you nod. "Alright. Fine. I get it. I apologise for occupying your time."

He surveys you for a second, then nods, like he just made a good business deal. "Just so we make things clear with each other."

"Crystal," You reply, no warmth in your words. "I think I finally got what you wanted to say. I thought you just weren't used to this... idea of having a soulmate, so I wanted to warm you up to it. But now I see you never wanted one in the first place."

Seungcheol furrows his brows just a fraction.

You push your chair back. You're careful not to look or seem angry, in part not to show him you're affected, and also to just... save face. He already embarrassed you. No need to do it again in public. "Take care, Mr. Choi. Thanks for putting up with me, anyway. It won't happen again. I’ll get the bill."

Soulmate, my ass.

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

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It wasn't supposed to turn out this way.

Glass meets the plaster of the wall. His tattoo lies there, barren, lacking its usual warmth even though nothing was taken away.

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

Ladies and gentlemen, this is perhaps how the story goes. He pushed her away, and she realised how the universe’s plan, this whole concept, had utterly failed. There were never meant to be pre-ordained people. People change, and oftentimes they disappoint…

The journal remains open, the last sentence discontinued.

T w o M o n t h s L a t e r

Soft, oozing vocals of Clara Bow fill your apartment as you pack your writing materials. You're done writing for the day.

You glance at the clock. Nine p.m. In time for a snack and TV before you head to bed.

When you turn on the TV, the news catches your attention. Another territory struggle, another turf battle for control. You shake your head and switch the channel. Typical.

As you settle down into the cushions with chips and a glass of white wine, sudden searing pain, hot and white and agonising, shoots down your arm. You gasp and grasp it in your other hand, almost keeling over at how painful it is.

Something is wrong. Very, very, wrong.

You sink to the floor, clutching your arm and sweat starting to bead your forehead. It hurts, your arm hurts, everything hurts.

Is Seungcheol in trouble?

His name card. Right. You can just find out for yourself, and if he asks, you could just say the tattoo's causing you a lot of pain. Yes. That's it.

You stagger to your drawers to find his card, messing everything up in the process. You fumble for your phone and dial his number, again and again and again, but all you’re greeted with is a beep and an automated voice instructing you to leave a message.

You don’t know what to do. No emergency contact, no one you can find… hell, you don’t even know where he is. As you’re standing, getting ready to run out and search, there's a pounding on your door.

You barely make it to the door and open it, and there stands the freckled, tan man whose name you never got. He looks awkward, eyes racing to your tattoo. "I'm sure you must be in a lot of pain," He says. "Mr. Choi ordered me to check on you."

"Check on me?" You almost wheeze. "What's going on that my arm hurts this badly?"

Lee shakes his head. "Not right now. We will talk in the van."

"Of course you can't say." You snap, patience wearing thin, temper as riled up as the pain in your arm. You're done with his secrets. "I can't know what he's doing, I can't know where he is, or if he's alive or dead, even if the pain he's causing may very well kill me too."

"You won't die," Lee says, a little more kindly. "If this comforts you, my soulmate's gone, and I'm still here."

Your anger evaporates a fraction. "I'm sorry about that."

"No need to be." Lee sighs, then reaches his own arm out. "Hold on to me, I won’t do anything weird. I'll take you to him. He's going to be a bitch when he sees you, but... I think it would be good for both of you. More often than not, distance breaks things apart."

"He's enough of a bitch even when I'm around," You mumble, but you take his arm anyway as he helps you out.

Without much effort, he gets you into the van he came in, and barks out an order to the curious men inside to drive into what he calls "The Heart".

"What's the Heart?" You ask, as he passes you a canteen of water to drink from.

"It's what it sounds like. The heart of our territory." Lee explains, eyes trained in front. "Mr. Choi's there when we... have scuffles, and that's usually the place where security is tightest, so he can be near to us to get updates and give orders, and still not get into danger."

"So he is a leader."

"He is, and one of those you wouldn't want to cross. He's quick with his work, and he can resort to getting his hands dirty if he has to. His network and connections are... frighteningly impressive, to say the least."

"Funny how I'm hearing it from you and not him," You huff as you lay your head back, trying not to think about the pain.

"He hasn't had the experience of telling people about his life, Miss," Lee chuckles. "But I figured you'll know eventually, so better sooner than later, right?"

"Sooner than later?"

"You're meant to stick around him, Miss. For the good and bad. You're his soulmate, after all."

"I don't know if we'll get there." You sigh, and close your eyes. "Is he badly hurt? Will me being there even help matters?"

Lee shrugs. "We'll find out."

Lee gets six men to flank you both as he walks you in. Up ahead, there's a building seemingly made of unforgiving steel, it's blank canvas looming in the dark red, streaked sky.

"That's the Heart?"

"That’s the one. Unpenetrable, Miss. Let's go in."

You pray for all your sakes it really is as Lee takes you up into the elevator. When he opens one of the (almost) hundreds of similar doors to lead to an empty, cell-like room, and inside sits Seungcheol, with a red fabric pressed---

"You're bleeding," You blurt. The pain in your arm subsides just a fraction, perhaps jarred by the sensation of finally, finally, meeting him.

He looks up, eyes twisting in furious shock as he glares at Lee, and then you (you don’t know why). "Exactly which part of my order did you not understand, Lee?"

Lee bows his head in apology. "I'll never take away a chance to meet your soulmate away, you know that, sir."

Seungcheol scowls hard, and you're almost afraid he's going to shoot Lee there and then.

"Get out."

Lee smiles, ushers you in and walks out. "I'll be back in half an hour to report. I'll call for the doctor again."

You bend and peel aside the fabric. Once white, it's now soaked red, it's warmth unsettling. There's blood, so much of it, and on his once unblemished skin now contains a mess of open flesh, blood, and a...

A bullet.

"A gun." You mumble.

"Try not to throw up." He replies, ever-so-gently nudging you away. "This is Armani."

"You jerk."

His face twists in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." The anger is returning. "You say all sorts of fucking nonsense to keep me away, and we meet again months later because you're shot. And that may be a normal day for you, Mr. Choi, but us civilians don't go about our day-to-day expecting a bullet hole to appear in our skin."

His hand clenches up.

"This is why I said everything I did," He snarls in return, putting more pressure on his wound. "I knew I would never want you to try to handle what I am!"

"You never let me try," You hiss. "You refused to tell me anything, to let me see what your life was like. No, you chose to shut me out! And don't you dare tell me what I can or can't handle."

He huffs. "I see no reason in dragging you, or anyone else, in when it isn't needed."

"Yet Lee brought me here tonight." You point out. "He knows something you clearly don't."

"Lee is a nosy fucker." He snaps.

"He's someone who's experienced it all. His soulmate is gone, Seungcheol."

"And look at the pain it caused him. At least if anything happens to me, it's no love lost for you."

"Shut up."

"What?"

"I said shut up. Sometimes people want to help you. Sometimes people wouldn't actually mind, I don't know, going into this Heart place to check on you. Sometimes, you need to get it into your thick skull that I actually want to be here, to make sure you don't die while this stupid snapdragon is burned into me!"

His eyes meet yours.

"But you won't get it!" You chuckle. "You send men to check on me when I’m in pain, but I doubt you have any intention of finding me after all this gets better."

"You think I wanted to?" He shoots back.

"And you think I had it all settled for me? That I was better off not knowing the person that was meant for me, this whole time?"

"I never wanted that." Seungcheol insists hotly. "Look at my world, it's a mess, a violent place, a--"

"And there has to be a reason I'm the one picked out!" You defend. "Do you have any idea what snapdragons stand for?"

When he doesn't reply, you continue. "It stands for grace and strength. I can handle all of this. I'm not meant to measure up with your headstrong personality anyway."

"Then what are you meant for?" He asks, tone now soft, dejected.

"To complement you," You reply. You've never been this sure in your life. "To make up for the traits you lack. I'm not supposed to be as strong, or as fierce as you are. I'm meant to... ground you. That's what soulmates are. To... allow each other's strengths to shine and make up for what they don't have yet."

Seungcheol goes quiet.

"And you?" He asks, after a long pause. "What do I complement you in?"

You survey him again. "That's something I can't discover yet, because you won't let me."

“So what do you suggest?” He continues.

“No more hiding. Show me who you are. No restraint, I don’t need you to keep anything secret.”

“What if you end up like Lee?”

“Then it would have been a life well spent, at least.”

Seungcheol grunts with effort as he leaves his seat and stumbles to you. "And if I obeyed, and let you in?"

You look at him square in the eye. "Then it would be my honour to stand with you... or in the shadows, or wherever you make me stand."

"This sounds a lot like an induction of one of my men," Seungcheol murmurs. "I don't want that."

"Then what do you want?" You ask softly.

Seungcheol looks down at you, emotions warring in his eyes. After a while, he slumps and turns away. “Fuck. I can’t do this to you.”

“Tell me what you want, Seungcheol,” You say quietly. “You order people around for a living. I’m telling you to be honest with me, too.”

"…You. With me. Wherever you, or I, want to be."

You shrug a little as he cups your face. "I can live with that."

"You better," Seungcheol mumbles, as his mouth finds yours at last, burning more than any wretched tattoo, warmth spreading to your fingertips. "After everything you just said... I don't imagine you're going anywhere for a while."

February 14, 2026

The doctor came to patch him up. His hand squeezed yours hard as the bullet was finally pried out of him.

It's honestly a blur to you now when you think about it, but all you remember is his eyes boring into yours, his unwavering, callused grip on your hand.

"The snapdragon symbolises strength and grace reflected in their tall, strong stems, blooms and resistance to colder temperatures. Others believe they also represent deception and deviousness.

She embodied grace. She was his missing piece, the trait he needed to complement his headstrong nature. But he also needed someone strong enough to stand with him, through every obstacle his work throws him in. And she... she needed his courage and unwavering will to stand with her through it all."

You put the pen down. Mmm. Not too bad for a closing chapter. You send a text to the new publishing house that you contacted two weeks ago. They had seen your draft, and they loved it. Two weeks from now, when everything is settled, you promise yourself, you will show Seungcheol. He'd been curious for a while now about what holed you up in your writing room.

"Love?"

You look up from biting into your croissant. "Well, look who's back from Sicily. How did the meetings go?"

Seungcheol smiles and opens his arms. "Not too bad. I suppose the love you share for novels, along with the Don's* wife, was a selling point. She was most keen on sending you," He cocks his head to the pile of books at his feet, "this. She said it'd make a good Valentines' gift, since I've been poor at accompanying you these few months."

"That sounds perfect. We're both suckers for romances."

As you sink into his embrace, the tattoo once again burns, but it's not the passionate, red-hot zealous heat. It's warm, comforting, like a hot chocolate in winter.

He sighs. "Happy Valentines', love. I'm going to lose my girl to a bunch of fictional mafia men again?"

"You know it."

"I still don't understand why. You have one right here, next to y-"

"Softer! Do you want the whole town to hear you?"

fin.

*Don = the highest role in an organised crime family

thank you for reading 💟

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