#soulmate: tattoo

[rangers-are-cool-moved]

For: Open | If you’d like it specified, ask Muse: Prompt: Tattoo - when they reach a certain age, a tattoo shows up on their bodies that they have in common

  Hidden from all but the former Ranger who owned the house and his visiting kin, a small child sized ledge could be found tucked away in the corner. It had first been noted when Maechedir brought the property but he had never bothered to sort it out. A fact he had been grateful for, at varying times in the recent years.

The Northern Barrow-downs.

  Well. The Barrow-downs in general wasn’t a place that many of the living, both travellers and permanent Bree residents, liked to visit. Some of the more braver folk went there only to get items not found anywhere else but most of the time, they asked the Rangers of the North to help. With barghests, wandering spirits and barrow-weights among other creatures now calling the place home, it wasn’t a surprise that most folk tried to avoid the Barrow-downs if possible.

  For most children who lived in Bree, their curiosity were quickly drowned out by fear and dread as they reached the main entrance to the Northern Barrow-downs. Many returned to the safety of the town, terrified of the unnatural chill in the air, glowing red eyes of the roaming hounds and the ever present low lying mist. Yet for the youngsters who did venture into the terrifying land of danger, barrows and darkness, many were never seen again.

“Maechedir, have you seen Hal? She never appeared in the Prancing Pony today.”

  It was one thing to be asked that question by some of the children as his seven year old granddaughter tended to hide away and be alone. But when one of his kin and more importantly, the Heir to the Northern Dúnedain asked it, the former Ranger gave his full attention. He thought for a few minutes, thinking back to when he had last seen her then frowned.

  ”Last time I saw her, she was curled up reading in the alcove by the wall. That was about 7 this morning. I haven’t seen her since, which is odd for Hal. Although…” The old Ranger trailed off uncharacteristically, recalling a fact that he had been worried about.

  When Maechedir didn’t finish his sentence, slate grey eyes narrowed with concern- and worry. For that wasn’t a good sign, especially with the storm coming over. “Mae?” A couple of other visiting Rangers, who had also been looking for the young girl, came to stop near them.

  ”There was something wrong, Arathorn. She’s been acting off for the last few days but I thought it was because another child had disappeared. And she hasn’t said anything but I’ve noticed that she’s been rubbing her upper arms a lot, like they were hurting. I think her tattoos have started to appear.”

  All the Rangers present at that precise moment stilled. They knew that the Tinnudir born man wasn’t prone to exaggeration and triads weren’t unknown to their kin. In fact one such triad of soulmates was standing just a few feet away, waiting for Arathorn’s instructions. It was easy to work out where the search would be starting but the difficulty came in actually finding the kid. As the Barrow-downs weren’t the easiest of places to track in and Hal was far too good at hiding, especially when she didn’t want to be found.

  A wordless look was all the group of Wandering Men needed and they quickly vanished to track down the silent seven year old. It was rare for them to have to search for Hal as normally they ended up asking her for help. As the skies overhead darkened with the fast approaching thunderstorm, Arathorn hoped that his kin would be successful in finding her in time.

~~~~~~

  A decade later, that very group of Dúnedain with the exception of Arathorn, kept a eye on the same young woman from their sheltered campfire. Yet this time, she was now a fully trained Ranger in her own right and they trusted her completely. Some things hadn’t altered though, like Hal’s ability to not be noticed until she spoke. “Thunderstorm coming this way.”

  Most of the other men jumped at the words while rarely heard quiet laughter sounded a moment later but they didn’t mind. The mission leader, Raidon, nodded at her warning and tilted his head, just turning to glance outside to see any signs of lightning yet. While also listening to the various conversations going on. His attention was pulled back when the subject turned to soulmates and tattoos. Many of them had black filled in tattoos, meaning they had been touched by their soulmate while others had greyed out ones and that meant a dead soulmate.

  His own tattoo was coloured black as he had found his partner in Calenglad, back in Tinnudir, Evendim. Of the remain nine Rangers, only one hadn’t mentioned what their tattoos was. Hal. Although he knew that she was listening, having recognised the tiny familiar movements his old student made. “Have you met the carrying the matching tattoos to yours, yet Hal?”

“I don’t know.”

"How do you not know? It’s either just lines, black or grey.”

  A cool sardonic look caused the other man to wince slightly but that was soon forgotten when the gender-fluid 18 years old rolled her sleeves up. The first was a half filled in silver Dúnedan star and on the other arm, was a unfilled but very familiar silver tree of Gondor. "That’s why I don’t know. If I find them, I find them but if I don’t…” She gave a faint smile and hid the tattoos once more. “Well, I’m used to being alone.”

  And that was the end of that particular conversation, Raidon thought as he watched her return to focusing on the maps of the wilderness surrounding Rivendell and the Gap of Rohan. Although the older man knew that it was only due to Arathorn, that his younger kin hadn’t completely given up on finding her soulmates. Then the thunderstorm finally arrived and nothing else was said, as most of them tried to get some much needed rest. before starting the journey to Rivendell and Rohan beyond.

[jadewritesficshere]

Steddie soulmate AU where Eddie is a famous musician, everyone assumes he doesn't have a soulmate. Eddie was just smart and doesn't confirm, doesn't want to go through rabid fans who claim to be his soulmate. He's had too many show up wearing his initials they tattooed on themselves even before he was asked about soulmates in an interview.

Enter Steve Harrington who works as a nurse. Just casually on his third nightshift in a row in the ER. Sipping some coffee trying not to fall asleep when they get the call about some confidential patient coming in.

Eddie comes in for some injury. Steve has 0 clue who he is, just says "You look familiar, did we go to school together?" And Eddie practically falls off the stretcher at Steve's feet. Goes all googoo eyes at him. Steve being mildly concerned because Eddie's heart rate keeps skyrocketing (its because Steve is touching him).

One of the other nurses can't help but try and get the gossip from Steve, who is very much confused as to why she cares about this random patient. She tells Steve who Eddie is, and he's just like ???? Okay???

Steve doesn't admit it but the picture she shows is HOT. It's Eddie, flipping off the camera, tongue out. He's covered in tattoos, including the word 'sorry' written in a weird script on his middle finger. He's shirtless and his pants are so low that Steve can see the dip of his hips creating a v and-

Steve has to walk into the supply room to get himself under control. Pretends it doesn't mean anything and goes back to his job as his heart thuds rapidly in his chest.

Eddie tries not to pass out when they draw his blood, Steve holds his hand. It feels right. Eddie can't help wanting to ask," Hey, do you have a soulmate?" But he hates being asked that question, so he won't.

Until Steve bends over, his scrub top lifting up slightly. Eddie can't help glancing at his ass, but then he can't breathe. Because on his lower back is the initials EJM.

"Steve G. H?" Eddie asks as his voice goes up an octave. Steve turns, bewildered ," How did you-?" "Edward James Munson." Eddie whispers.

Oh

[evyltalks]

sharing is caring

[aleisters]

[ros3mari3]

Inked in Destiny

Bucky Barnes x soulmate!Reader

The first time you saw the tattoo on your wrist, you were seven years old. Delicate vines curled over your skin, inked in deep black, twisting gracefully around your arm. It was beautiful, intricate, and entirely mysterious.

You learned to hide it. Others had words that spoke of love and promises; yours was an enigma, a pattern that felt like a secret before you even knew who it belonged to. So you kept it covered, concealing it beneath bracelets and long sleeves, unwilling to face what it might mean. Over time, it became second nature to hide it, to pretend it wasn’t there.

Years passed, and the mystery of the ink faded into the background of your life. Until the war came, and the world tilted on its axis.

James Buchanan Barnes was a name whispered like legend, a man thought lost to time and violence. When you joined the Avengers, you never expected to meet him. And you certainly never expected the way your pulse would stutter the moment his gaze locked onto yours.

From the beginning, there was something about Bucky—something familiar, yet completely foreign. He was reserved, his voice always edged with reluctance, his eyes shadowed with the weight of things unspoken. You caught glimpses of warmth, of a man buried beneath the pain, but he always pulled away before you could see too much.

And then, one day, everything changed.

You had been sparring, caught up in the fluid rhythm of movement, when your sleeve rode up—just slightly. Just enough.

Bucky’s entire body went rigid. His breath hitched, and for the first time since you met him, there was something in his eyes other than guarded restraint—something raw, something like fear.

“What is that?” His voice was tight, laced with something unreadable.

Your stomach twisted. You knew what he was looking at. But still, instinct kicked in, and you yanked your sleeve down. “Nothing.”

His gaze didn’t waver. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, and you took one back.

“You always wear long sleeves,” he murmured, his tone deceptively soft. “Even in the summer.”

You swallowed hard. “So?”

He hesitated, fingers twitching at his side, then—without another word—turned on his heel and walked away.

The abruptness of his exit left you reeling. You stood frozen, your mind racing, watching his retreating form as he disappeared down the hall. The air between you felt charged, the weight of unspoken truths pressing in on your chest.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. The image of his expression—the fleeting fear, the wariness—played on repeat in your mind. And so, against your better judgment, you found yourself outside his door.

You knocked once. No answer.

Twice. Silence.

On the third knock, the door swung open, revealing Bucky standing there, his jaw clenched tight. His room was dimly lit, shadows stretching across his face, emphasizing the exhaustion lining his features.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice hoarse.

“You ran,” you shot back. “You saw my tattoo and just—left.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he looked like he might shut the door in your face. But instead, he exhaled sharply, stepping aside to let you in.

The air in the room was thick with tension as you stood in front of him, your arms crossed. “You knew, didn’t you?”

Bucky didn’t answer right away. Instead, he rolled up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing the same delicate, curling vines twining over his forearm. The sight of it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I knew,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve known for a while.”

Your breath caught. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His jaw tightened. “Because I didn’t want this for you. I didn’t want me for you.”

Your heart ached at the weight behind his words. Slowly, carefully, you reached out, tracing a finger over the ink on his skin. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

Bucky flinched under your touch, but he didn’t pull away. His gaze searched yours, filled with hesitation, with conflict. “I’m dangerous,” he whispered. “You deserve better.”

You shook your head. “I deserve my soulmate.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, thick with emotions neither of you were ready to name. But something shifted then—something fragile, something real.

And for the first time, Bucky didn’t step away.

[moonkissedart]

Inuyasha from ‘I Love the Flaws You Try to Hide’ by @cannibalsforbreakfast.

You should really read this, if you like any of these: soul mates au, soul mate tattoos, Inuyasha takes care of Kagome, Inuyasha as an illegal tattoo artist, Sesshomaru as a doctor, smut. 🤭

And here’s a short video just to show the gold in the background and his eyes.

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Text: Soul Bonds must be trusted, even if you hate your partner. You are one body in two parts, feeling what they feel, signal tattoos transferring with a brush of skin, a silent messaging system.

[imfinereallyy]

Tattooed Steve, pt. 2

Part 1 here

Soooo I ended up writing more tattooed Steve. I couldn’t resist. I also realized that Eddie would be the first person to find out but like…other than Robin. But I didn’t count her because Steve and Robin are the same person honestly at this point. Anyway I hope you like it! Pt. 1 is linked above.

—-

It’s two weeks after Vecna when he gets his first one. It’s unexpected, impulsive even, but Steve needs to feel something. He has just spent the past week and half waiting for Eddie to wake up, staring at his pale form, wishing away the anxiety with every beep, beep, beep that comes from the heart monitor. Begging for this stupid, stupid man to wake up.

He isn’t really sure why he wanted Eddie to wake up. Sure the ruggrats love him, and there is the general sense of not wanting any innocent person to die on his watch, but Steve knows deep down it’s about something else. Or more like the potential of something else. He tries not to think about it too hard.

So during that first week and half of watching a comatose Eddie, Steve takes his time studying the man. Learning every curve, and every scar. And eventually, every visible tattoo he can see. They are interesting, not all of them good, but all very Eddie. It somehow makes them better. Some of them are messed up from the bat bites (ironically the bat tattoos remain untouched), but they add to his aesthetic if Steve is being honest with himself.

When Eddie wakes up after that week and a half, groggy and confused (especially towards the fact that Harrington is practically holding vigil at his bedside), the first thing Steve says to him is “Oh thank god you’re awake.” The second is “What the hell were you thinking?” Before Eddie proceeds to pass out again.

Later, when all of the doctors and family and friends have had their time with him, the third thing Steve says to Eddie is, “Tell me about your tattoos.”

And despite the fact half of them are mangled, Steve doesn’t think he has ever seen anyone light up that bright in his life. And when Eddie starts waving his hands in excitement, Steve can’t help but think that he’s never been so close to the sun before.

So, two weeks after Vecna, Steve makes a decision. Or again, if he’s being honest, an impulse. He finds old books in the library about tattoos (which aren’t very helpful), and finds zines hidden between the pages (much more helpful) on stick and pokes.

Steve shows up with supplies from Melvad’s (for a probably very dangerous tattoo kit) at Robin’s doorstep. “Robs, I need you to give me a tattoo.” Then she proceeds to spit all of her morning tea on him.

After a lot of shouting “Did you hit your head again dingus? Oh my god did you get into another fight? Are you having a break down? SPEAK STEVE.”

And a lot of convincing, “Robin I’m fine. No I’m not having a breakdown. Robs, Robbie, Birdie, I swear nothing happen. I just want to do it.”

The end up on Robin’s bathroom floor (because of course all important things happen on the bathroom floor), with a look of deep concentration on her face. “I can’t believe you’re letting me do this, with only twenty minutes from a zine you smuggled out of Hawkins Library. I can’t believe they even have zines.”

“I don’t think they were aware of it honestly.” Steve snorts. His shirt was off, a patch hair already shaved off right where is heart is placed.

“Do you know what you want?” Robin asks, head tilted.

“No, not really. I was hoping you would help.”

Robin hums, like she’s resisting the urge to point out how impulsive he’s being. Like she knows he needs to do this. “Tell me what made you decide to want one.”

So Steve does. He tell her about waiting for Eddie to wake up. Wondering why Eddie got them. Wanting to own himself again, to actually like something new on his body. Put something there he had control of. His curiosity of if it were painful. His interest behind the stories of Eddies tattoos. How Eddie lit up so bright when asked. Wanting to feel like that. Wanting to be close to the sun again.

Robin mercifully didn’t look too deeply (or at least didn’t push on it) about the interest in Eddie himself. “Okay, I think I got it. Just…hold still.”

Twenty minutes later, after three passes with pen ink and a needle, Robin disinfects his tattoo. Before she covers up, she asks “Do you want to see it?”

Steve nods his head eagerly. The tattoo had painful, more painful than he expected, but he found it sort of grounding. Something to keep him aware of himself, almost as if he was able to grasp parts of himself he wasn’t conscious of before.

When Steve stands up to look in the mirror, there he sees off center on his chest, a wonky little sun. It was something a preschooler could have drawn, but it was one of the most beautiful things Steve had ever seen, and it was made by one of the most important people in his life.

Robin says shyly at Steve’s speechless state, “You said you wanted to be close to the sun again.”

Steve scoops Robin up in an instant, ignoring the stinging both on the outside and inside of his chest. “Thank you Birdie.” Which translates, you are the only person I ever need etched in me forever.

“Always, Stevie.” Which means, you’re never getting rid of me anyway.

They pull away with tearful smiles, and silent promises. Steve can start to feel maybe not much like his old self, but somewhere on the way to who he truly is.

Then Robin says, “Okay, me next.”

————

okay I wasn’t sure if really anyone wanted more, or if I was going to do it but I actually really enjoyed where this ended up. Also I apologize for any tense changes. I quite literally type this on my phone and say screw it, without looking it over. Let me know if you want more maybe? Send me prompts even. Thanks for reading :)

[mo0ns-and-stars]

HC: James first tattoos are two stars right above his heart one for Sirius and one for Regulus he got them on the same day they rescued Regulus out of his parents house🌟✨

Furthermore: He asked both of the brothers to draw them without them knowing what it was for

[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfics - Soulmates

Words: 824

@wolfstarmicrofic

***

It was a truth universally acknowledged by the sixth years that Sirius Black had a secret.

Until his seventeenth birthday, he would take any opportunity to strip down to his pants, or even less. But that suddenly changed. He'd even stopped getting changed in the dormitory, taking his clothes into the bathroom to dress each morning and evening.

Marlene was convinced he’d gotten a tattoo he was embarrassed about. Remus and James were more concerned about spell damage from his family. Sirius point blank refused to discuss it with any of them, and after a month, they eventually stopped pushing the matter.

On Lily’s birthday, something happened that made Remus panic more than the possibility of spell damage littering Sirius’ skin. He was finishing up prefect rounds when he heard a sniffle from the cosy alcove in the library. He poked his head around the corner and was startled to see Lily wiping her eyes furiously.

He was by her side in a second, “What happened?” She shook her head. “Lils. Is it Snape? Did he—“

“No, it’s not— it’s not that.” She sniffed, “Something appeared on my skin today and I have a feeling that I know what it means but…”

“A soul mark?”

“I think so. It’s on my fucking collarbone. At least Sirius’ is on his—“ She covered her mouth quickly. “Shit, you didn’t hear that.”

“Sirius has a soul mark? Fuck. That’s why he stopped getting his kit off twice a week?” Remus stared at her collarbone as if he expected to be able to see it through her robes. “Wait. He showed you?”

She shook her head, “I saw it by accident. Someone gave him the password to the prefects' bathroom.” She said pointedly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Remus said with a smirk. “So, on your collarbone? Can I see?”

She sighed, undid the top couple of buttons on her shirt, and slid it aside, pushing her robes back. On her collarbone, several fine lines made up a pair of delicate antlers.

Remus pressed his lips together. “Remus Lupin, don’t you dare laugh at me.” She glared at him. “It’s ’Prongs’, right? That’s what Prongs means?”

He nodded, “Yeah. His patronus is a stag.”

“You all think everyone is so stupid and oblivious, I swear. There was a whole month last year where those three idiots claimed to have a lisp as a result of a potion gone wrong. You could very clearly see the mandrake leaf under their tongues the whole time. They’re unregistered animagi.” She did up her buttons slowly. “I’m guessing Pete is some kind of rodent and Sirius is a gross, mangy, little dog.”

“Who else knows?” Remus had frozen. “They were so sure that they wouldn’t be found out. Idiots.”

“Nobody that I know of. I wasn’t about to tell anyone, I figured it related to the moons.” She smiled at him. “Honestly, the day I figured it out was the day I thought ‘Huh, maybe Potter isn’t a complete tosser’. But if you tell him I said that, I’ll hex you so hard.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“And yours with me, always.” She sighed again, “James’ birthday is in March, right?”

“Yeah, a couple of weeks after mine. Are you going to tell him?”

She hummed thoughtfully, “It’d probably be funnier to wake up and let him see it himself. But that means covering myself up for two months. I don’t want to get all obsessive and weird about it like Sirius.”

“Is it bad? Sirius’ mark?”

“I— It wouldn’t be fair to tell you about it.” Lily touched his shoulder gently. “He’ll tell you all when he’s ready.”

“Yeah, I hope you’re right.” He stood up. “Anyway, I believe there’s a bottle of Firewhiskey or two waiting back in our dorm. Marlene will be getting antsy.”

***

On Remus’ birthday, he awoke at 7:37 am to a very peculiar tingling sensation on his left bum cheek. He rushed to the bathroom, not checking to see if anyone else was awake yet. He twisted around, pulling down his boxers on one side, trying to look in the mirror, but it was too high. He tried twisting around again.

“It’s stars.” A quiet voice said from behind him. “Canis Major.”

Remus looked up into the mirror and made eye contact with Sirius, who lingered in the doorway. “And yours?”

“The moon phases.” He shrugged, lowering his pyjama bottoms slightly as if he hadn’t been shielding his body from scrutiny for almost six months.

Remus took a step toward Sirius, not taking his eyes off the nine small circles, but before he could say anything, James burst in, took in the scene of his two friends admiring one another’s arses, and quickly retreated.

“Pete, do not go in there!” They heard him shout from under his pillow.

Sirius started to chuckle as a smile tugged at Remus’ lips “Happy Birthday, Moons.”

[author’s note: idk if it’s because I’m currently on day 8 of a covid infection (send help) but the image of Remus trying to see his bum in the mirror and essentially chasing his tail like a dog has me laughing, coughing and wheezing so hard.]

[evyltalks]

Little rosekiller for you 🌹🔪

(First real barty and evan art hope you’ll like it)

[xi-xi-chen]

I made this a while back, so it's very rough, but I guess I finally found some courage to post it. It's a soulmate tattoo kinda thingie I thought about. I'm not sure if I'll make the next part.

[heretolurkandnothingmore]

Blue and Gold.

A little illustration for a (sort of Soulmate Tattoo) fic I'm working on.

[aftgmostly]

List of fics to read Andreil edition (5+1)

Tales from a Quirky Small Town by @gluupor (Gilmore girls AU)

i only need the working of my hands by @littlespoonevan (Andrew gets amnesia a year after canon)

growing pains by Ominous, nightquills (Stuart is Neil's guardian, High School AU)

hold on to let go by moonix, djhedy, fuzzballsheltiepants (they reunite post-college)

A Me For Every You by sambutwithbooks (5+1 thing, soulmates AU with different universes. this one is AMAZING)

i shall not live in vain by redskiesandsailboats (Soulmate AU, flowers bloom on your body when they get hurt)

I Hate Him by DeeLeBee (Soulmate AU, your soulmate feels pain when you lie to them)

BONUS

Jerejean fic: This Ink Is Still Drying by sourpastels (Tattoo artist Jean)

[lostintransist]

Hallo friendo!!! I'm back with more tattoo soulmate au stuff!!

No cap loving playing Horangi's shitty luck 💖

RAAARGH we did a first phase now onto the second phase soon 2.1/4

His luck was a terrible terrible thing, he should have known better. One bet turned into three, turned into six. Riding high, doing fantastic just as things always went. To good to be true, always the crumbling edge before the fall. And now- Here he sits, scowling as he's unmasked. Gear bet and lost. Hand over his crotch as he stares at the shit hand he has. He could manage it, he swears, maybe a pitiance from Lady Luck... If she wasn't such a conniving bitch.

A small brush across his back has him shouting and clutching his cards to his chest. Eyes wide staring at the small woman holding a tray with martinis and other cocktails. Squinting at the letting on his back before offering him a shy smile and setting a drink on the table next to him. Motioning to another man hunched over a table, cards bowed low and looking over his shoulder at him. A smirk on his lips, a wink before he turned back around laying his cards out. Several groans as people at his table cried out. A royal flush. The man quickly cashing out and flashing Horangi another smile, running a tongue over where the Korean's scars were on his face before sauntering off with languid steps.

His gaze flicked down to the drink and the keycard set underneath it. Maybe tonight wouldn't be a complete bust after all. Bolting up and after the man as he passed by the small woman, missing the familiar name mumbled between her and another employee.

Lady luck was only able to help those who didn't miss the obvious signs.

Soulmate Tattoo Part 2 found here.

A/N: I fought through the ADHD demons to deliver this one to you.

You roll your head from side to side as you wander down the halls watching for the signs that decorate the corners. This massive old building had been converted from a mansion for a single-family to a hotel sometime in the nineties by someone who wanted to keep the old charm of the building but in the process of cutting it open and running new veins for the old girl had created something closer to the Winchester Mansion than the stately building it must have originally been. They made a maze instead.

You had decided to travel in your off-season, trying to hit some of your bucket list cities. This would be the last one before you head home. You had hit museums and the cutest little coffee shop through a red door set among bricks that stretched the block.

Spotting your door you fish the RFID card from your pocket. The door opens at your touch, but not to a sight you could have ever imagined.

Two blinks is all you get before you are moving. A broad beast of a man with a neck tattoo marking him as a member of the local crime organization is choking someone to death on your bed. The carpet muffles the sound of your steps as you shift behind the man and taze him with the tool you keep on the belt of your pants. His back straightens as he lets out a squeal before passing out. Without a glance at the person who gasped for their precious air, you grab your backpack and return to the hall.

Retracing your steps you keep your pace as a door slams behind you with the sound of pounding feet coming closer.

“Ma’am!”

You flinch. You hated that you looked so feminine shaped still. Maybe you should start doing more makeup to give yourself the shadow of a beard since the binder didn’t seem to help others clock you as androgynous.

“Sir?”

Still not right and still not your problem. Noping your way out of situations has saved you more time than you could count using all of your knuckle creases on each hand combined.

“Hey, asshole!”

“What!?” You snap as you spin around. A tall man, Asian by the shape of his features, stares at you with both hands held out from his sides in a clear ‘what the fuck’ gesture. He’s attractive, and your type. Fuck. All the better to get out of here.

“You just saved my life and you’re walking away?”

You glanced side to side before back at him with your brows quirked.

“Obviously. If you have nothing else to add to this,” you flick your hand between your bodies, “I am going to go ask for a new room.”

His mouth pops open as his eyes bug out of his head slightly. All his muscles must be stealing the nutrients from his brain. Twisting on your heel you continue to the front desk.

The swish of fabric is the only warning as he runs up next to you, legs matching your pace.

“At least let me take you to dinner as a thank you.”

Pushy bastard.

Stopping abruptly, he takes two steps beyond you before turning back to look.

“Why is this something you are pushing? You don’t know me.”

“I know many people wouldn’t taze the mob to save a man they’ve never met.” He looks you over now, the loose fit of your shirt and the wide flare of the jeans that are too big for your body, only held up by the belt snug around your hips. “Let me treat you to dinner and then I’ll disappear from your life.”

“Do you even have any money if the mob is after you?” You question him as you start on the journey to find the front desk again.

He snorts, “They weren’t after me for owing them money.”

You send a glance at him without shifting your head.

“Okay so they might have been after me for money, but only this time. They are more pissed about the hit my team completed against a member of their group.”

“So, you’re a mercenary?” You keep the question casual as you start down the stairs.

“I am a member of a paramilitary group that takes contracts with governments all over the world,” he replied haughtily.

The noncommittal hum you let out seems to creep under his skin. Good, maybe if you burrow under his skin like scarabs then he might leave you be. Before either of you can pick up the conversation further the front desk appears, an oasis in this maze of a building.

A quick exchange of room keys and a new set of instructions has the man marked for death at your elbow turning and directing you out of the building. Once the bustle of people flowing around you eases the proximity of his heat you wrench your elbow from his long fingers. You walk against the flow of the crowd, keeping close to the buildings. He follows.

Outside of the building you have an easier time navigating. Working your way across the city you arrive at the last restaurant you wanted to try before jumping on a train tomorrow to head to a larger city with an airport.

With a nod and two fingers held aloft you are seated at a tiny table across from a man who upon further inspection is absolutely your type. Dark hair, sharp brows, and a nose that sat crookedly on his face. His thin lips were drawn down in a frown as he stared at you. To give yourself a moment to not look at him you tuck your backpack under your seat.

“Can I get your name?”

“No.”

He sighed and readjusted in his seat. His feet bracketed the legs of your chair as he leaned back in his own.

“Pronouns?”

You lifted a brow. He did not seem like someone who would care about that.

“They/them,” you watch him as you reply.

Nodding once he responded, “Know a few people like you.”

The server appears then, taking your orders and leaving water in their wake.

“What are you doing out here?” He questions you.

“Traveling.”

His left eye gives the slightest twitch. It was clear you were traveling, your accent marked you as a foreigner.

“You going to give anything to this conversation?” His eyes narrow.

“Nope.”

With a sigh through his nose, he settles in for a long meal.

It doesn’t take nearly as long as he expected, two bowls of soup appear after their waters do. You tuck into your meal. Unable to help it the wash of flavors over your tongue has your eyes drifting closed and a pleased hum escaping your throat. You pointedly do not look at your table mate when you come back to your senses.

Twenty minutes after you walk through the door, he is laying the local currency down on the table and walking you to the door, a hand at your back. You turn to snarl at him for taking liberties when you see alarm flick across his face as he is dragged backward by the collar. Something must have changed between your gaze meeting his and his meeting his attacker because the man fought like had been born to it. His shirt ripped sometime early in the short fight, fluttering around him as he moved.

Meals were ripped from tables and smashed into faces. The man, who you still haven’t learned his name, ended the fight with a punch that you could hear from across the small shop and a front kick that sent his attacker to the ground. He stood, breath heaving as he stared down at his attacker. You loudly moved up behind him catching sight of something that ripped your stomach into your ass.

There in orange between two tigers was a soulmate mark. A mark that listed your name, the name you had chosen yourself. Without too much thought you grip the back of what is left of his shirt and drag him from the shop before anyone else can think about calling the authorities or the owner kicks the two of you out.

When he is finally able to turn despite your hold on to the tatters of his shirt he stares down at you confused but keeps moving at the swift pace you set.

“What is your name?” You question him as you dog a woman walking her dog down the sidewalk.

“Horangi. Why?”

“And are you Korean by linage?”

He stops now, your arm jolting as it fights against the force of his strength.

“Why?”

You can’t see him moving without an answer this time.

Filling your lungs to the point your ribs expand as far as they can you blow the breath out slowly.

“The name on your back is my chosen name and it is a shade of orange that looks suspiciously like it matches the Korean lettering on my right calf.”

His mind moves slower in this than it did in the fight. You can see it shift through his mind layer by layer until he is stepping forward, replacing the torn shirt in your hand with one of his own and leading the way back to the hotel.

“I would very much like to see that mark of yours,” he grumbles back at you as you start to jog to keep pace.

Soulmates Part 1 | Masterlist

[barbra-annbunny]

Oh God, does it hurt when a lover is in pain; especially when they are out of reach from your touch.

They stared at the mirror in silence, a shared understanding of what they were seeing going unsaid. Instead of a reflection of the two men being shown in the mirror, there sat a person in a strange room. They were bent over a desk drawing on a peculiar tablet with a white stylus. Their long braids were laid flat against the back of the chair, tamped down by weird-looking earmuffs. This person wore a long shirt, a pair of shorts and not much else. Along their wrist was a hodgepodge of bracelets of all different kinds, these bracelets were nestled against the base of a tattoo. This tattoo was of a Chrysanthemum and Lily of the Valley, nestled side by side on the softest part of their inner forearm.

The men’s eyes widened before looking down to their own wrists. Upon the taller of the two’s inner forearm lay a Lily of the Valley and a Carnation nestled beside each other, as if in a warm embrace. Similarly, the blonde man had a Chrysanthemum and a Carnation laid in a similar embrace on the inner forearm. These men looked at each other again, blue meeting black. 

“I think I have a new dream,” The pirates said at the same time.

“Better than the All Blue?”, the green haired man smirked.

“Better than becoming the World’s Greatest Swordsman?” The other replied, as he put out his cigarette.

They looked back to the mirror and answered each other’s question in tandem, “Definitely.”

Carnation - January primary birth flower (reader)

Lily of the Valley - May primary birth flower (Sanji)

Chrysanthemum - November primary birth flower (Zoro)

Here’s a little blurb i wrote about Sanji and Zoro learning that their soulmate is in a completely different universe. I haven’t decided if I will expand this, let me know if you would be interested!

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