Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

People always said to achieve what you can and do what you will, but you can never change what fate has chosen for you.

Or, you supposed, who.

Soulmarks had been a common thing since the 18th Century when some girl and some guy found that they had matching scar-like marks on their bodies. Upon examining multiple groups of people worldwide after more and more reports of matching marks on couple's bodies (or different marks, much to the couple's dismay, but they were marks nonetheless), the whole world came to the conclusion that this must be the workings of something beyond human knowledge- mostly because of the way the already-odd marks changed color to what appeared to be their partner's mood.

The sheer aspect of people having some kind of built-in mood scar would be expected to not have a good effect on society and the world as a whole, but, much to the world leader’s surprise, it was taken in with open arms by the people of Earth. Humans seemed to greatly appreciate the weight of who to love being lifted off their shoulders and, though there were a few hundred cases of people trying to cut their mark off and simultaneously killing themselves and their partner, it was just something that people adapted to and chose to accept rather than run from. Having a partner picked out for you by the gods made it seem a little more special, a little more unique and meant-to-be.

Everyone accepted their place as being pre-paired from birth, and no one had a problem with it.

Until cases of people with non-matching marks started to make the local and worldwide news.

It started with two or three but then multiplied to more-or-less hundreds of recorded cases in a span of ten years. People weren’t sure what to make of this phenomenon, nor were they able to comprehend what having your ancestor’s mark meant. Confused, scientists struggled and failed to find the matching marks to the people and didn’t know why some marks that were matchless passed onto the future offspring of that family line. Did it mean that some people were doomed to a loveless life, and indirectly affected the offspring of their great-great-great grandchildren?

Nobody knows.

Nobody found out.

And here you stand, the bitter wind of a too cold April stinging your arms and reminding you that you probably should’ve worn something warmer, thinking about the useless scientists of the past and hating your great-great-great grandmother that indirectly ruined your love life by giving you a matchless soulmark. Thanks, Grandma. Hope your death was as lonely as I am.

You sigh heavily, your breath clouding in front of your face and drifting off with the cold breeze, fading. You supposed that wasn’t very kind to say that about your grandmother since it wasn’t like she meant to give you this mark, or that humans had any control over soulmarks in general, but still… It had ruined your childhood and affected your life thereafter. How could you let it go?

After the initial realization and the denial and understanding that came with your parents explaining that you had a soul mark that didn’t connect to anything or anyone, your childish wonder and dreams faded from reach, only to be replaced by an immense sadness and painful emptiness that you wouldn’t find love. Even when you learned that it was possible to get together with another partnerless person, you still felt lost, like it wouldn’t mean something if you didn’t match to your partner. Like your soulmate was out there somewhere.

The bus groans to a stop before you, its grey surface as bleak as your mood. Wishing away the damned thoughts, you ghost up the cold steps, past the grey people in their suits and varsity clothing, with their wondrous smiles and their hope in dreams. Past what you wanted to be— who you wanted to be.

Sometimes you really hated soulmarks.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Love was a constant, ever-pressing tumor in the back of your mind. No matter what you did to try to quiet the hidden urge to find love in its romantic form, the creeping thought haunted you when you were by yourself. It’s not like you purposefully dwelled on what a touch would feel like— you could be thinking about what to cook for dinner that night and the sudden thought of how someone’s arms would feel around your waist would pop into your head and you’d jerk every time in a flustered attempt to get rid of the poisonous thought. You weren’t very pretty, so that cut the physical factor of affection, and you didn’t have a good personality whatsoever, so that burned the ashes of an already-failed chance at love or affection from practically anyone. The only people you knew even remotely had some form of feeling for you was your cat and your roommate, both of whom you spent every day with. Love was a foreign and unwelcome concept in your lonely, cold world, and even though your soul begged for some kind of easy tenderness, you didn’t want your world to change.

You didn’t want to hurt.

You huff again for the fifth time while restocking shelves, the colorful rainbow of cereal boxes making you imagine paintings of dragons and mountains that you would get to do once your shift was over. The pure excitement was absolutely overbearing, and you felt your mind speed up, as if it might speed up time a little bit. You back up, carefully examining your handiwork of organizing the cereal aisle by color. No, you move a box an inch to the right. I’m definitely not OCD at all.

“Ah…”

A small voice behind you hummed and you jumped, not expecting it. Spinning around, you gazed at the small rabbit-like monster, forgetting that you had a job for a moment and staring in wonder at them. Monsters were nothing new, being on the Surface for 4-5 years already, but you didn’t see many in your small town since it was built around the university and not many people had a reason to go to the town unless it was to study at the university. Though monsters were generally accepted into America, they still faced discrimination and suffered from places rejecting their presence entirely, so not many monsters bothered moving from the city they first entered due to the fear of being singled out. You had always been for one to find fascination with fantasy and such, so you were excited when the barrier first broke and the first monsters, a pair of bipedal goat-dogs, appeared and made their stand on the Surface.

“What can I do for you today, ma’am?” With a voice like honey, you put on your best smile and greeted her, trying to keep your excitement and awe down to a new low. She gave you a small smile in return, wringing her hands in an act of nervousness and you couldn’t help but soften at the small monster.

Looks like you’re not the only one nervous.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Stepping into the elevator of your small apartment complex, you push your floor and wait, the elevator music singing softly in your ears as you tried to ignore the weird feeling in your gut. What was this feeling? It wasn’t anything good, you knew, but you couldn’t quite place the queasy, uneasy feeling that settled within you.

Was something wrong?

Why would it be wrong?

Your anxiety grew as you stepped off the elevator and moved quietly to your door, listening. Usually, your roommate would have soft music on during this time, but today you didn’t hear it, and you felt the air press onto your shoulders as you feared the worst. It was stupid to fear something because of the mere lack of music, but you couldn’t shake the odd feeling. Not understanding where the feeling even came from doesn’t help, either.

With shaking hands, you place your key in the keyhole and turn it with a soft click, turning the round knob carefully and peeking in. Please don’t let there be blood Please don’t let there be blood Please don’t—

You swing the door open fully, ignoring the loud bang of the door connecting with wall and keeping your face in a deadpan expression. From your doorway, you can see the entrance of your kitchen and half of your living room— and also your roommate dragging a skeleton from the living room.

She looks up, panic practically written on her soft, round face as she opens her mouth to say something, anything, to explain the scene before you.

One panicked roommate.

One unconscious— maybe dead— skeleton.

…

Good God, I’m too sober for this.

You heave out a sigh and try to stay relatively calm, shutting the door gently and crossing the room over to your roommate.

“I-I… (y/n). . . It’s not what it looks like…” Your roommate stammers, dropping the (dead?) body to the plush carpet. You stare at her, and then glance down at the body. Using the word “body” would be an overstatement— the thing on your apartment floor was nothing but a skeleton, It was short and densely built, nothing like the anatomical skeleton you kept in your art room, so you assumed it was a monster. A blue, fluffy jacket engulfed it and it sported black track shorts and black sneakers.

You just wondered what the punchline was.

“So… Is this some kind of joke, or…?” You try to find the words to express your confusion as you look to your roommate incredulously. Gulping audibly, she clears her throat and gestures to the skeleton on the ground.

“I may have let these two—” She gestures to your couch, which was out of sight until now, where a ridiculously tall skeleton snores quietly. “—men come and stay here for a bit until they can get back on their own feet.”

“A bit?” Your confusion furthers as she looks away from your sharp gaze anxiously.

“Yes, a bit. Uh— A bit meaning… Several months? Maybe a year? It depends,” She sighs, running her hand through her reddish-brown hair. You could see her soulmark on her wrist peek out from her sweatshirt, a dull peridot green with her partner’s mood, which you could guess was a worried color what with how stressed she looked. You sigh, clenching your hands and looking at her closely. A million and one thoughts flew through your mind and you couldn’t keep track of them all. What if they’re dangerous? Where did she find them? What is she doing dragging the one? Why did this happen so quickly? What happened? Was it dead? What the hell?

“I know that this is sudden,” She starts, taking your hand gently. Her hands were warm, and your thoughts stopped and a worried and concerned look settled on your now-pale features. “But they were on the streets, (y/n). I couldn’t leave them like that, not with all the people ready to hurt monsters in this damned town. We’ve got that extra room where I store my camera things— I can put that in my room and give them that room to stay in.”

“What about food, Korra? It’s not like it won’t cost anything to feed two more people, let alone monsters,” You feel lightheaded, like this was some messed-up dream and you really wish you would wake up already. “What if people trash our place because we’re housing monsters— Hell, do you even know if these guys are safe? What if they’ve got some crazy voodoo shit?” Panic rises as you speak, worry and confusion blending with the inability to think straight, and you rip your hand out of hers and hug yourself tightly, staring at her with stern eyes. Korra huffed, defeated because she knew you had a point but stubborn nonetheless.

“Still, (y/n). . . Please, let them stay for a while. If things turn bad then we can kick them out,” Her eyes pleaded with her words, a sad frown resting on her face. You sigh, looking away at the skeleton (still on the ground), watching his chest rise and fall as if a skeleton could breathe. Magic, you supposed.

Groaning, you give up to your roomie’s puppy eyes and heart of gold. “Fine— but if they cause more problems than benefits, they’re out.” You look at her heavily and glance toward the skeleton on the carpet. “May I ask why in hell you were dragging them, by the way?”

Korra sweats, laughing nervously and looking down at the skeleton. “Well, you see, I may have given him medicine because he said he had a migraine?” Your eyebrows furrow. He’s a skeleton, do they even get migraines? “And, uh, turns out monsters and medicine don’t go together…?” She chuckled anxiously, biting her lip and looking at you apologetically.

“So…” You sigh for the umpteenth time today. “You may or may not have killed him?”

She snorts. “He’s a skeleton— he’s already dead.”

“Wh—? He’s still a living being! Do you even know anything about monsters?”

“No,” She hums, bending down to pick up his shoulders and smirking. “But neither do you. He’s still breathing, and I want to move him to my bed, so go pick up his legs so he doesn’t drag.”

Grumbling, you cross around to his legs and grab hold, lifting them up and slowly but surely carrying him to your roommate’s room and plopping him onto her bed. “Why your bed?”

She snorts, raising an eyebrow at you while she covers the skeleton with a blanket and gets another blanket for the other skeleton on your couch. “What, would you rather him be in your room?”

“No, good point,” You stick your tongue out at her and close the door behind you with a soft click. The two of you shuffle back through the short hallway, making your way to the living room. The taller skeleton was strewn over the couch, his legs dangling off the side and his head resting on the edge of the armrest. “Why didn’t he wake up during that fiasco? Did you drug him too?”

“Dunno,” Korra murmurs, laying the blanket over the large skeleton gently. “Maybe he’s just a deep sleeper.” With a sigh of content, she turns toward you and smiles gratefully. “Thanks for letting them stay— I’m sorry that it’s so sudden, but I just found them today in an alley and they accepted my invitation to lunch. I couldn’t just throw them back out into the streets”

“You found them in an alley, treated them to dinner, and led them to your home,” She nods happily and you roll your eyes. “I don’t know whether you’re stupid or you’re kind.”

“Both, actually,” She chuckles, smiling broadly. It wasn’t the first time she’d done something similar to this. In fact, you’d called the police so many times because of her suddenly treating random people to dinner and disappearing that the police had a premade set of questions to ask you before they went to look for her. You swore she’d get hurt someday, but she never listened.

“Welp, I have to get going for work since Tom put me on the nightshift,” You roommate sighs, trudging into the kitchen and grabbing a small lunch sack out of the fridge. Turning to you, she smiled a tiny smile and let out a airy laugh. “Good luck with the boys. Don’t forget to feed them.”

“You act like they are children.” You chuckle quietly, pushing her toward the door. “I’ll be fine— just go. I’ll call you if the place is on fire.”

She snaps her head back and narrows her eyes threateningly, though the smile on her face ruined her attempt at looking intimidating. “That better not happen, y’hear? Don’t even call me for it.”

You giggle, shaking your head and watching her leave, waving slightly. Now what? You practically had to play babysitter for the entire night, and you weren’t sure if this was a good idea. What if they really are dangerous? What do I do then? You grimace, shuffling over to your cat, who was on the small velvet chair across from the couch and pick him up despite him sleeping. He mewls drowsily, looking at you in annoyance but then getting comfortable in your arms as you pet him softly. The tall skeleton was still sleeping, and from what you knew, so was the small one. You didn’t want them to wake up anytime soon in fear of what they could do, but you knew you didn’t have a choice in when they woke up. Heaving out a nervous huff and setting your cat back down onto the chair, you walk over into your room, picking out some comfy-but-appropriate pajamas. It was only five, but you weren’t going anywhere for the rest of the night, so you didn’t bother with proper clothing. Making your way to the bathroom, you stop at Korra’s door, listening to the quiet snoring from inside. Good, you sigh, still asleep.

Stepping onto the cool tile of the small bathroom, you shut the door and flip on the light, a warm glow illuminating the glossy surfaces. A small shower, toilet, and sink were all that the room sported, but it was good enough for you and Korra, and you set down your pajamas on the floor and make your way to the shower, starting the water and stripping down while you wait for the water to warm. Monsters would know not to come into a bathroom, right? You step into the shower, standing for a moment and letting the water flow down your back, soothing you and letting you focus on something other than your thoughts. Sighing contently, you look down to get your shampoo when a splotch of color on your skin catches your attention.

…What?

Your eyebrows furrow, looking closely at the rainbow pattern that your soulmark was now filled with instead of the dull black you were used to.

But…

What was that supposed to mean…?