Summary: Ever since you were a child, you had dreamed about getting your mark and finding the perfect person. When you finally got your mark, a quarter-sized star on the inside of your wrist, you were delighted! Your fairytale romance was just getting started. Egon didn't believe in fate. He didn't believe that a mark on your body meant something just because it matched a mark on someone else's body. When he woke up one morning and found a star on his wrist, he brushed it off. Moles could be star-shaped, he supposed.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Ghostbusters (sad, I know). This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.
Notes: Look who started another series without finishing her other Egon series (plural whoops). I don’t think anyone’s wrote a soulmate mark fic for Egon (apologies if I’m wrong. I’m basing this off of AO3)
Enjoy
1972, Columbia University
I notice the mark in the mirror when I'm brushing my teeth. A quarter-sized star on the inside of my wrist that wasn't there when I went to bed.
Excitement bubbles up in my chest as I put my toothbrush down to examine the new mark. A select few people were lucky enough to receive a mark. Never in a million years would I have thought I was one of the lucky few.
The childish dreams of 'soulmates' and 'true love' never really faded from my mind as I grew up. My mother's stories as a child were still vivid in my mind. Even as the months passed after my nineteenth birthday and I still hadn't received any marking, I hadn't given up hope. But here, on a random Tuesday morning, all my secret longings finally became a reality.
The idea of a mark match was such a romantic idea to me. Finding that person who bore the same mark as you and falling madly in love. Knowing that you were compatible in romance and life? It was a dream come true for me.
Hollywood only furthered the romanticization of 'the mark'. All films and television shows involved couples who were lucky enough to find their mark match and fell madly in love. Magazines ran articles for teenagers with real stories of mark matches. I wanted what those people had, the undeniable connection with someone at first glance. The shared mark to show we were a pair.
Giddy with the knowledge that I would get the romance I had always craved, I dash out of the bathroom to call my mother, not bothering to wipe the toothpaste from the corner of my mouth.
1974, Columbia University
Finals week, Junior year. These are the moments that count. The moments that will begin to dictate which graduate programs I'll be accepted into. My time has to be managed perfectly.
Would I rather go out for drinks with my friends after classes? Yes. But I have to be responsible. There will be plenty of time to get plastered once finals are over.
The professor wraps up the class, again reminding us of the date and time for the final exam. I jot it down at the top of my page even though I've had it written in my planner for weeks now.
I walk out of the classroom with my peer and one of my only friends in my field, Ray Stantz. He's chatting away about one of the points Professor Graves made during lecture.
"I've got to get going, or I'll be late," Ray checks his watch, "See you at the final." He waves before taking his leave. I wave back, beginning my walk across campus towards the library.
Before class, I had suggested we study together in the library, but of course, Ray had other plans tonight. Probably a date with the girl he's been seeing for a few weeks. It must be nice sometimes to be unmarked. I couldn't get myself to date much. The occasional time I went out with a guy, they were nice enough. But the mark made me wary of seriously dating any of those guys. What if I ran into the love of my life and had to hurt someone? It wasn't fair to anyone.
***
The library, of course, is packed. Finding an open space seems nearly impossible by the time I've taken my third lap around, that is until I see a spot has opened up by a guy hunched over a circular table.
The table was small, but I wouldn't take up too much space. It should be fine to share.
I tap on the man's shoulder, "Would you mind if I sat on the other side of this table?"
Without even looking up from his work, he replies in a deep voice, "Fine."
"Oh, uh-- thank you." I move around the table to the seat across from the grumbler, setting my backpack down before sitting down in the chair.
He's a mop of dark hair bent over a notebook that he's scribbling in. I watch for a moment as his hand rapidly moves across the page.
Right, I ought to get to my homework instead of watching the strange man work on his.
Reaching into my backpack is harder than it looks at this angle. I plant my feet on the carpet, twisting my body at an awkward angle to reach into the backpack for my Psychology book and notebook. Right as I've almost got my hands on both, my foot slips, kicking the stranger squarely in the knee.
I straighten quickly, feeling positively mortified. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry!"
He looks up, and my heart begins to beat faster. Never in a million years would I have expected the student wearing a sweater vest over a white polo to be cute. The scowl and everything.
"It's fine."
I pull the bag of M&M's I brought for a snack out of my bag, "Could I offer you some, as an apology? I'm (y/n), by the way."
"Egon," he eyes the bag for a second before reaching out his hand for the M&Ms.
The cuff of his shirt rides up with the stretch of his arm, my eyes drawn instantly to the star on his wrist. My eyes shoot up to his. No way...
The questions escape my mouth before I can stop them, "What's that? On your wrist?"
He snatches his hand away without the M&Ms, "It's a mole."
"A star-shaped mole."
Egon goes back to his notebook, "Yes."
I bite the inside of my lip, my eyes narrowing as I look at him. What a liar! What's so wrong with having a mark that he has to lie about it? "Oh, have you gone to a specialist for that? A star-shaped mole sounds dangerous."
I notice the way Egon's lips tighten, "I have not."
"You're lying."
"I haven't gone to--"
"No, not that." I frown at him, "That's a mark, not a mole!"
"I don't believe in those fairytales."
My face drains of emotion. I've waited for this moment to find my match, and the one I match with doesn't even believe in the mark. Just my luck!
"You don't believe in the mark? Like at all?"
"No. Why would a small mark on my wrist dictate my life?"
Because that stupid mark means we're perfectly compatible, you oaf.
"You don't find it romantic? Destiny and all that?" I have to ask for my own bruised ego.
"It's nonsense."
Well ouch. I pull the sleeve of my shirt down my wrist, not wanting this... jerk to see we've got the same star mark in the same place.
"You're unbelievable. You're one of the people lucky enough to have a mark, and you don't even care."
Egon puts his pencil down, "Why do you care?"
The eye contact we're sharing is exactly the opposite I had hoped for when I met my mark match. I don't exactly know what to say to that. I could come clean and show him the matching mark on my wrist, but I'm not sure I want to be matched with this jackass, even if it's 'fate' or whatever.
I toss my head, "I don't care."
He grunts and goes back to his notebook.
Ugh! He was the last person I wanted to be mark matched with. The thought makes me miserable, though, because even as I'm already annoyed with him, he's supposed to be 'it' for me.
***
My watch reads ten p.m. when I start to pack up my backpack to head home. My table mate is still scribbling away in his notebook, not looking like he'll ever grow tired of it.
Is this really what the universe thought I was compatible with? Really?
I zip my backpack up before pulling the straps onto my shoulders and turning to walk back to my apartment.
Egon speaks, "Good night, (y/n)." He's still hyper-focused on the notebook when I look back at the table.
Includes: Soulmate marks, soulmate fic, angst, arguing, Egon POV1
Word Count: 1154
MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link
Summary: Ever since you were a child, you had dreamed about getting your mark and finding the perfect person. When you finally got your mark, a quarter-sized star on the inside of your wrist, you were delighted! Your fairytale romance was just getting started.
Egon didn’t believe in fate. He didn’t believe that a mark on your body meant something just because it matched a mark on someone else’s body. When he woke up one morning and found a star on his wrist, he brushed it off. Moles could be star-shaped, he supposed.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Ghostbusters (sad, I know). This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.
Notes: Thank you for all the love on the previous chapter! You guys make writing so enjoyable and motivate me to do my best work! I hope you enjoy this chapter<3
Enjoy
***
It's very unlike me to be so... dazed, but I know I'm justified to be in a state of shock after today's revelations. In an instant, my world (to an extent) changed, and the attraction I felt towards (y/n) began to make sense. I had a soulmate; the mark on my wrist had a meaning behind it at last.
A much younger version of myself had been antagonized over the mark when the significance had been explained to me. It hadn't made sense to me why I had one, and no one around me did. I assume my family thought I would react with curiosity to the mark and would try to find an explanation for the unknown.
My reaction was very different other times that an unanswered question arose in my life. I pretended and continued to pretend till today that the mark didn't exist. I couldn't view the mark how others did: an acknowledgment that I had the opportunity for a connection deeper than normal. For me, I saw the mark as something that stripped me of choice. Not that I spent much time exploring the way my peers did. Every experience I had with sexual attraction had been set up by another, never initiated by me.
That's why the kiss, my initiation of the first move in the human mating ritual, had been as much of a shock for me as I'm sure it was for her. I can only explain the experience as having my body take control over my rational brain.
With my very limited experience and first-person knowledge of kissing, I infer that she enjoyed the contact. That is until she pulled away, her face riddled with guilt.
Of all emotions, guilt wasn't something I calculated she should be feeling after that kiss. In my estimation, she had nothing to feel guilty for. (y/n) didn't know Peter the way Ray and I did. She hadn't spent countless hours observing him. (y/n) didn't owe Venkman even a pinch of thought at that moment.
Besides, based on what he had spoken of, very openly to Ray and I, he had taken her on two dates and shared one very... stiff kiss.
Despite this, I can admit that I admire her sense of loyalty and her active conscience.
"Earth to Egon," Ray waves his hand in front of my face, "Are you feeling okay? You've been zoning pretty hard."
I'm not one to pretend or hide things from people. I find it wastes time to hide what you're feeling. "I found out (y/n) is my match mark today."
Ray's eyes widen, "She told you."
Shaking my head, I respond, "I saw the mark... Did you know?"
He has the good sense to look apologetic. "I saw it before finals. I swear I would've told you, but she begged me not to."
Why did my match mark not want me to know that much? I understand that the things I said to her in our initial meeting weren't the nicest in terms of our shared mark, but I didn't know! How could she be upset with me when I wasn't aware of whom I was speaking to?
"Why do you think she's with Venkman?"
Ray frowns, "Because Peter approached her."
"She knew, Ray. When she met him at the bar."
"I know."
I run my hand through my hair. How have I run my soulmate into the arms of another man? This wasn't how these things were supposed to happen. I wasn't stupid; I know how most match marks meet. Enough to know the situation was anything but normal.
"How do I fix this?"
"Did... (y/n) tell Peter yet?" His face grows red, "Is she breaking it off with Peter?'
My head in my hands, I respond in a mumble, "She doesn't know yet."
"I know (y/n) fairly well, Egon. She isn't going to believe words alone."
I was afraid of that.
***
She's looking through the files from yesterday when I arrive at Dr. Leinonen's office. I know she's noticed me, her entire person stiffening unnaturally.
I don't want to push her further away from me, but I can't work with all of this on my mind. My personal research was halted from further revelation last night due to these... feelings. If I don't speak to her, I will be wasting Dr. Leinonen's time today.
"(y/n)," Hesitantly, I reach out for her, my hand landing on her shoulder.
She turns slowly towards me, and I feel the unflattering warmth come to my cheeks. Never in my life have I felt this sort of attraction towards another person. In fact, for quite a while, I thought I could lead a content life putting all my focus on my work and studies. Having the mark seemed like a fluke in this sense. A star-shaped imperfection instead of a soulmate identifier.
(y/n) was a rather attractive woman physically, and I'd be lying to say I hadn't noticed when she kicked me at the library. However, physical attraction wasn't the only thing that drew me towards her. With the limited time I've had to study her, my list of observations as to why I found her attractive only grew. She was intelligent in a way that wasn't boisterous, as if she knew she was smart and didn't care whether you knew it or not. It was a certain kind of confidence in oneself that needed no explanation.
Her natural softness was also something evident and was reflected in her eyes that held warm kindness.
I could mentally list other things that piqued my interest in her, such as her wish to practice outside of academia, the crease between her brows that appeared when she was flustered, the way she could easily connect with the children we were working with... How she apparently thought I wasn't interested in her.
Even as I had been the one to instill doubt in her over the marks, I would admit to myself that her dismissal stung.
"Egon." Even the way she says my name brings warmth to my face. "Do you need something?"
"No--" I fight the urge to look away, "Have you spoken to Peter?"
(y/n) glances around us even as the office is empty, "No. I haven't had the chance to speak with him..."
"What will you say?"
"Egon." (y/n) glances down at her shoes, "It's not that easy..."
"He'll understand," I say with certainty, but truthfully, I'm not sure how Peter will react. Due to the large fact that it would never work out with (y/n) and Venkman because of the match mark, I think he'd come around eventually. She was always supposed to be with me.
She purses her lips, "I hope so."
I tilt my head, "Does that mean you're..."
"Egon. I'm not going to have this discussion at work. I--" The crease between her brows makes an appearance, "Can we speak during lunch?"
