I Am Not A Stranger Here
Soulmates, soul marks, soul bonds... it seems like everyone is either waiting to find theirs or expounding upon the magic of fate. And then there's you. Running from fate like your life depends on it - but what happens when you realize you can't stop?
6.4k words. Continuation of a blurb I posted a bit ago. Fem reader. Enjoy!
It was back in 1882 when scientists first recognized the soulmarks that every person seemed to be born with were tied to the fingerprint of their soulmate(s) - though the location of the mark on the body varied among individuals. Almost always the dominant index finger (though it has been recorded to be other fingers in rare circumstances, the marks fan out depending on the number of soulmates. Researchers have never been able to fully document the physiological symptoms of seeing, meeting, and bonding with soulmates - not without a lack of trying. And now, with the rise of research and development of Soulmate Finding Databases and Applications, the answers humanity has been hunting for millennia may finally be revealed. Vought scientists spoke exclusively with The Sun this weekend, discussing the finer details of their newest research projects and applications.
Hayley Miller: Hello, and thank you both for inviting me - and all of my audience - into your beautiful home.
Ashley Barrett: Of course. It’s so much easier to talk business at home like this.
Cameron Coleman: And our work is so close to home for so many - ourselves included.
Miller: That’s true. There are those who wonder - do experiments or algorithms belong in such a ... delicate business as soulmates and love?
Coleman: We -
Barrett: It’s always on our minds, you know? We’ll never forget the miracle we experienced when our bond was formed. But we can’t help but think of those for whom fate wasn’t enough. If we could build something that helped just one soulmate find another? That would make it all worth it.
Miller: And this program is how you plan on doing that?
Coleman: Precisely. We have the technology to scan and process both soulmarks and fingerprints, so we figured - why not use that technology to connect soulmates directly?
Barrett: We've had great success so far, and with every new user added there's more opportunities for success and true love. Like we always say,
Coleman and Barrett: More bonds means more love.
Miller: And that's all the time we have for today! Tune in after these messages to hear about the upcoming reveal of the newest member of the Seven, and don't forget to sign up for More Love with your Vought+ account for a 15% discount!
You groaned, closing out of the thinly veiled ad your mom sent you and slid into the ancient theater seat.
When most people talk about meeting their soulmate for the first time, its a grandiose affair. Hearts race, eyes meet, and a bond settles into place before either party has a chance to give their name. You’d heard this story countless times - in shitty romance novels, in feel-good news stories that your mother used to send you - Ashley Barrett slop included.
But most people actually meet their soulmate. You were sitting in the back of an auditorium - definitely hidden in the shadows, and they were on stage, giving a seminar on hero ethics or some other bullshit that barely applied to you.
It was subtle enough you didn’t quite realize it at first. You’d gotten to the auditorium early - of course - and settled in at the far, far, far back. But still - you felt it. You felt them.
First - a prickle on the back of your neck. You’d put your hair up, thinking the summer heat was just setting off your nerves.
Then - a spike in your heart rate. A shiver down your spine. Anxiety acting up, maybe?
You were in denial - it’s easy to see looking back. But then you saw them and you couldn’t deny the burning in both your soulmarks. A prickling sensation morphed into a burning throb as you looked up at the stage and felt that undeniable pull. The tug from somewhere deep down that draws you to your soulmates. You can feel it in your chest - in the way your body contorts to lean towards the stage. Your subconscious was searching for a seat closer to the front before you realized what was happening.
There was no denying it any longer. Marie Moreau and Jordan Li were your soulmates.
You didn't need to wait for Brink to introduce them to know who they were. You were moving towards the exit before they even sat down.
After Marie and Jordan saved some random girl at a club, they were celebrated by GodU and Vought. They shared rank 2. Somehow. (Well, not somehow. There are a lot of rumors about ultimatums and threats and benefactors and blackmail that everyone is all too willing to entertain). They were basically GodU royalty. Everyone knew who they were. True representatives of what it means to be a Godolkin-trained hero, if the press briefings are to be believed.
If that was true, you were everything but that. You were here on a technicality. Your independent study status meant you were barely in Crime Fighting, and Brink was constantly trying to make you anyone else’s problem. You spent most days holed up in the greenhouses, trying to coax rare saplings into thriving. The only reason you put up with this bullshit school, this bullshit company, was because you knew, deep down, that this was the only way your powers meant anything. You weren’t a healer or a fighter or even an entertainer. You are an academic, through and through. A scientist. And you might’ve dropped out in the first year if you hadn’t stumbled on a rare and delicate plant species that seemed to help supe-specific illnesses and the side effects of compound V. Maybe you couldn’t help people directly, but your research could.
But none of that was ready yet. You weren’t ready yet. So you did the only thing that you could think of - you fled.
Ducking behind the sound gear, scurrying around the other lurkers in the shadowy back row of Godolkin’s main auditorium, you managed to make it out and in a side alley, leaning heavily on your knees. Trying to remember how to breathe.
When you learned who your soulmates were, you could feel the pull everyday, tugging you towards fate. But your fear was stronger - keeping you running.
It was cowardly, you knew - hiding from your soulmates. But they already faced enough backlash as it is - sharing rank 2, being an interracial couple, Jordan’s gender identity, Marie’s history... you couldn’t ask them to come out again. Not for you. You were no one. Barely a supe. And they were actual heroes.
How could you get in the way of that?
So you avoided them constantly. Became almost an expert at it - learned their schedules, memorized their habits. If you'd been living on the outskirts of GodU social life prior to that fateful October morning, you were practically invisible now. And this time it wasn't because of the small minded nature of the students there, it was because of your own avoidance. Darting from room to room with your head down, the tug in your chest became a warning sign, and your feet would move before you could stop yourself. Bathroom stalls, abandoned classrooms, even supply closets were your refuge as you desperately tried to outrun fate, trying to force the world to follow your five year plan. Publish your research before graduation, complete clinical trials for the treatment within two years of graduation, and move to help produce the serum once it's approved for OTC sales. Then you can meet your soulmates. When your powers, your work, you actually meant something.
You dedicated as much time as you could to your research. Nurturing, cultivating, and processing each sample into a supplement that you fed to little super mice. Every seedling and every lab mouse contributed everything they had to proving this work was worth something. That you were worth something. You worked like it was the only way you’d be able to earn the love you were supposedly destined for.
That was how you met Emma. Head down, fingers six inches deep in soil, you heard a series of crashes that had you immediately alert. No one comes here - who the hell...
“Please be careful!” You called out warily, peeking around a large ficus and expecting to see a whole gaggle of students, or even some kind of pigeon who found himself on the wrong side of the plastic walls. Instead, a petite blonde was pushing herself up from the ground, unbothered by the dirt on her pants or the spectacle of her tumble.
“I'm so sorry, I was just looking for a quiet space to smoke. I can go - there's a million -”
“Oh no, it's ok, as long as you don't catch my plants on fire.”
“Cool. I should've known the plant girl would be chill about weed. Emma.” She stuck her hand out for you to shake, you gave your name, and that was that. She had this way of putting you instantly at ease, in a way no friend ever had before. Not that you'd had many friends - here or back home. But you could tell that Emma was a rare kind of friendly. The kind of girl who genuinely wants everyone to be having a good time at a party, and who won't hesitate to go out of her way to make a stranger's day. Emma would show up in the greenhouses when she felt like it, usually with a joint, and she'd stay as long as she wanted, chatting, smoking, chilling, or even napping. You even shared some of your own stash with her - this one custom strain you'd grown last summer had an unreal harvest, and it was nice to have a friend to share it with. She offered to pay you a couple times, but you never took it. Something about it felt weird - maybe you just wanted to feel less like a drug dealer, and more like a normal college student sharing with a friend.
Your first year at GodU was a caffeine-fueled slog, days filled with either grueling physical labor maintaining your botanical samples or the equally exhausting process of documenting the entire process and the results to ensure that your final paper is both clear and precise. When you entered your second year, you were expecting more of the same. Instead, you're desperately trying to continue to barrel through life as everything shifts and changes around you. And you just kept running, kept pushing yourself forward like you could calculate your way to a happy ending.
You told yourself you’d talk to them in the new semester. You presented your research to Brink at the end of the fall semester, there was something there. Something real. Your hard work had demonstrated a marked decrease in blood pressure and hyperactivity in the “super mice” exposed to this plant - statistically significant enough to get you the funding for something. Maybe a clinical trial, if you’re lucky. At the very least, you might get a grant for more samples or a recommendation for publication in a small journal. You thought this was how you’d finally get recognition.
In some ways, you were right.
When Brink read your paper, he knew they were in trouble. This was a PR nightmare - and it would fall entirely on him if anything like this got out. Compound V causing heart problems? A medicine invented by an undergrad student doing more than anything Vought had attempted over the last decade?
Ashley was going to have his head. With the release of her and Coleman's app coming up, she wants all of Vought - the whole world, to be honest - watching her. This could distract the public, disrupt her launch - and therefore, his job.
So he did the only thing he could think of - he called Shetty.
“We have a problem.”
“Ever the conversationalist, Brinkerhoff.”
“Indira, the plant girl actually fucking found something.” She’s been an irritant since she first got to Godolkin (barely even a supe, if you ask him. Not that anyone did. They just decided he would be her faculty advisor and that was that. Never mind that she's the furthest from combat anyone could get). And now, at the end of her third semester, she comes up with what could very well be the next scientific breakthrough.
“You - that’s impossible. We’ve been trying to solve this for years, we’ve lost countless subjects over this.”
“You can read her findings if you want. But they’re clear. She found some fucking miracle plant.”
“This can’t get out.” The way that Compound V ripped through the human body was bound to have side effects - no one with a brain would believe that supes were free from side effects. But the story of invincible and powerful superheros is what makes Vought money, and the secret of chronic illnesses among supes is what gives Vought enough power over those supes to keep them in line. This research would not only expose their weaknesses, but provide them with a path to healing that doesn't include Vought or their subsidiaries. The attrition rates of supes would skyrocket, and Vought would lose millions. At least.
“I know that Indira, but how do we -”
“We need to get her to drop out.”
You were planning on seeking them out come January. You’d imagined it countless times, rehearsed what you’d say until your little sibling nearly broke the door down demanding you stop hogging the shower. You even got a hair cut - your mom’s friend was able to refresh your curls in the way you like, leaving you feeling something dangerously close to pretty.
But you still hadn’t heard from Brink approving your research. Instead, you’d been bombarded with new forms and approvals and grant applications that left you scrambling to meet each strange deadline, wondering where you stood.
And once you got back - something had shifted. And not just because of the obstacles you were facing with your research.
You hadn’t been popular by any stretch before. You were relatively unknown, content to be with your plants and your studies. But when you came back in the spring, you could feel the scorn in the way people looked at you.
You tried to tell yourself you were just sensitive. Paranoid. But the whispers only got louder. And the way the other supes were pushing you around in the hallways didn’t feel so accidental anymore.
The names didn’t start until the end of the first week. Trickling in through Instagram comments and Twitter DMs, by the next Wednesday the murmurs were following you in the halls.
Second-Rate Supe. Plant Freak. Useless. Waste of V.
She’s worse than a human - because she’s pretending like she’s one of us.
Is she even really a supe at all? Someone should check.
She doesn’t belong here.
You weren’t sure what changed. Maybe you did.
But you didn’t go talk to Jordan or Marie that week.
Ever since a random October morning when Jordan and Marie had been doing another round of bullshit seminars, the two supes hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was different.
Marie thought their other soulmate must have been there.
Jordan thought someone was watching them.
Or at least, that’s the line they stuck to, digging their heels in every time their girlfriend so much as mentioned the prospect that their third was here. Its as if everything in their system shut down at the prospect. Like the blast shields they’d seen on the dorm windows, each part of them stiffened and retracted into itself, and one thought plays on a loop in their mind. No. It can’t be. I’m not ready. The kind of thought that filled their chest with a painful mix of embarrassment and shame that makes them clam up and lash out.
They’d always known they had two soulmates - the heart shaped mark on their thigh mocking them no matter which form they took. At first, it felt like just another sign from the universe that they were too much. Too much for their parents. Too much for one soulmate, for one body, for one world. After meeting Marie, after feeling the bond click into place, the warmth blooming out of their left soulmark, there was a brief moment where they thought the hard part was over. Marie accepted them, their friends accepted them, school was going ok. Maybe everything would work itself out.
But Vought’s demands were neverending, Brink worked them past exhaustion, and the world wasn’t nearly as ready for a couple as queer as theirs, whether they were soulmates or not. Their parents hated that those around them enabled their gender confusion and most days it felt like it was their strength alone that was keeping their friends alive and somewhat sane. They're tired. Tired of trying to be everything to everyone, tired of trying to act like they're untouchable. And if they were honest, truly honest, they were tired of coming out. And they weren’t exactly looking forward to doing it again.
I’m not ready.
It’s been three months and they haven’t been able to shake that thought. And being home for the holidays hadn’t helped things at all. They'd gotten good at ignoring their parents’ more obvious judgment, but the little comments had a way of worming under their skin and into their psyche. A constant little voice in the back of their mind wondering if they’re studying enough, exercising enough, training enough... wondering if they're Supe enough for this place.
“Earth to Jordan!” Andre’s voice cut into their thoughts. “Take this. It’s legit.” A blunt was placed in their fingers before they could say anything. They rolled their eyes, trying to mask the flurry of uncomfortable emotions roiling in their gut.
“We have the same dealers, Andre, don’t - “ “Ah, but this isn’t mine.” He said smugly, a proud little smile playing at his lips. “The Little Cricket has a super secret hookup with a custom strain. And I gotta say, I’m impressed.”
“Pink Crush, she calls it. And don’t say it like that, she’s not a hookup - she’s my friend.” Emma admonished.
“If she’s your friend, why haven’t we met her?”
“She’s shy.”
“You’re talking about the plant freak, right? She’s not just shy, she’s a recluse. I can’t believe-” Emma had launched a pillow in Sam’s direction, glaring at him.
“Don’t be mean, Sam. She’s my friend. And I like her.”
“I’m just saying...”
The conversation topic changed quickly after that, but something about it stuck in their mind.
Maybe it was just the weed, making them overthink things. But plant freak echoed in the back of their mind - why does that feel so wrong?
It was getting to the point where you could feel them coming before you could even hear them. The tug in your chest was becoming nearly unignorable with each passing day. Twice now you’d left the greenhouses to clear your head and you ended up right outside the top ten dorms, like your feet carried you to your soulmates without your input.
And tonight was no different. You’d intended to simply walk the perimeter of the campus, taking the long way home to avoid any other students. And there it was - the swooping sensation in your chest, the warmth on your hip - run.
You hated yourself a little more each time you ran. The thudding of your sneakers on the pavement syncing up with the pounding of your heart and you can't fight the little hopeful voice in your mind. It's fate. They're your soulmates. Just turn around. It won't be perfect but it'll be yours. Just -
And then the moment passes, and you're out of breath in another alley. Alone. You try to pack your shame away, tuck it into the back of your mind and get back to work. But every time you run away, it feels like you're leaving a tiny piece of yourself in the dust behind you.
Marie was sure she'd felt her other soulmate, a warmth pressing into her wrist and a strong desire to take a new route to class. But it was fleeting - as soon as she caved to her instincts, the guiding force was gone.
After the fourth big fight with Jordan about whether their third really was on campus or not, Marie stopped bringing it up. Even though she could feel them, in brief moments on her walk home or in the evenings that she has her tea on the townhouse porch... she was tired of fighting.
It's not like she doesn't understand why Jordan's resistant. She just hates that they can't admit what's going on. They'll talk in circles about how she must be imagining things, teetering dangerously close to gaslighting her into dropping the issue.
It isn't just in fights that Marie feels the absence of her other soulmate. There are these moments - quiet moments that are missing another voice. Another shadow. Another quiet breath in the early morning hours. Another soft embrace when the world feels too sharp.
But they passed as quickly as they were there. A ghost of what could be. Of what should be.
It's hard not to resent Jordan for their fear. She's left feeling more isolated each time she pretends like she doesn't desperately want to tear this school apart to find her other soulmate. Not because Jordan isn't enough, not because they're too much, but because she feels the loss of each day that they're incomplete.
It sounds insane. It sounds like a lot of bullshit words that mean nothing. Jordan is the only one who could possibly, actually, understand. But they're not ready. It's clear in the way their heart races any time she's brought it up; in the way they clam up and shut down.
How do you choose the soulmate you've never met over the one who you see everyday? You can't. So, despite the part of her that aches to chase that warm feeling until she finds her mystery soulmate and puts everything right again -
She walks back to the main path and arrives at class ten minutes early.
It wasn’t until mid-February that the other students started ambushing you in the greenhouses. Like harassing you in the halls and online wasn’t enough, they had to start visiting the one place you felt safe. Never going far enough to where you’d be able to report anything, just far enough to crack your defenses. Cutting just deep enough to leave you aching and shrinking in on yourself with each passing day.
Worse than any one bully or insult was the way it shrank your world to the few scattered moments of peace. Leaving your dorm was stepping onto the battlefield. Even using your phone was a delicate dance - trying to swipe the notifications away before the insults have a change to stick.
If you didn’t know any better, you’d say someone was trying to break you.
Maybe it was the universe, trying to force you to follow fate.
You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d break first or if the universe would.
You wanted to run, to flee like you had from Jordan and Marie . But there was a clause, buried in your student paperwork that kept you right where you were. You’d been pouring over the contracts from Brink and his team over winter break when you saw it - the line that made your heart stutter to a stop.
Any Intellectual Property or other creative and scientific endeavors made at Godolkin University during a student's tenure remain the property of the university up and until the student obtains the relevant degree(s).
A whole bunch of bullshit legalese to justify stealing the hard work of struggling students. And what choice did you have - if running away meant all your work was going to be filed away and forgotten? You did the only thing you could do - what you’d been doing all along. You put your head down and you survived. Like the force of your will could make the whole fucked up system bend to your need.
You didn't have faith in much anymore - it felt like Godolkin and Vought had taken your spirit, your passion, and siphoned it off, leaving you drained and paranoid. Your research is all you have - the only product of nearly two years of hard work. And now, nearly three months into the semester, with continued radio silence from Brink, the path to success seems unpassable. You resend the same email every day with your paper attached, but by spring break you stopped hoping for a response.
One of the many inane office duties Jordan had to pick up when Brink took his extended spring break was managing the professor's email inbox. They didn't intend to spy - despite the countless nagging doubts they had about their mentor and his activities - but when they stumbled upon a recurring email from a student they'd never heard of before, they opened it on instinct.
It was odd that there was a student of Brink's that Jordan wasn't familiar with. They know the names, powers, and general ranks of each crime fighting student currently enrolled at GodU - and this supe isn't one of them. Nonetheless, each day since the start of the semester, they'd sent an email with a significantly sized attachment.
Clicking into the file, they were instantly fascinated. They read the paper once, then again, and by the third read through, the magnitude of what they were reading seemed to settle.
Compound V wasn't just a super serum. It had the capacity to take as much as it gave - but this supe, some random student at GodU, had found a way to ease that pain. Or so it seemed. They printed a couple of copies, unable to shake a strange feeling in their gut and a simple question: why was Brink ignoring something so significant?
Marie was in the middle of her weekly study session with Emma when Jordan burst into the blonde's dorm room, thrusting one of the copies into their girlfriend’s hands.
“Read this.” They said gruffly, practically tossing the other copy onto their desk before snatching the bong from Emma's grasp and taking a deep hit.
“Hi, Jordan. Our day's been good, how are you?” Emma said sarcastically - though the smile playing on her lips made it clear she wasn't actually pissed that Jordan crashed their study date - even if the blonde girl does refer to it as a ‘condition of their shared custody’ of Marie.
“Oh, just peachy. My boss and mentor seems to be actively hiding a whole ass fucking student from me, and -” They were preparing to launch into a full blown rant about trust and Brink when Emma interrupted them.
“Fucking finally! I told her, I told her I was going to tell you if she didn’t buck up and tell you herself, the way he's -”
Jordan finally regained control over their own mouth, which had spent the last few moments hanging open in complete and utter shock, and their brain finally caught up to what Emma was saying.
“No, I found a strange folder on Brink's email and got nosy. What...” Their voice was oddly hoarse - it felt like something was unraveling in their hands, and they didn't exactly know how to even begin to untangle the mess. But Emma seemed unperturbed, carrying on as if this story was just casual gossip. As if Jordan wasn’t hanging off her every word.
“I should've guessed. She always clams up when I mention your name or anything. Says since she's not your student, she doesn't want to bother you or whatever. My friend from the greenhouses, the one who grew the good weed, she's been trying to get a response about her research for months.” she explained casually, shoving another handful of chips into her mouth before continuing. “I imagine that's what that is - the little super mice and the serum? The rest is a bit above my head but she gets real excited about it all. S'cute.” The blonde explained, flopping back on her bed when she finished. Jordan turned to their girlfriend, a complicated mess of emotions clear on their face, a million questions in their eyes. Am I crazy for thinking this matters? What do I do if it is?
“These findings are significant. You said she's been submitting this paper for awhile?” Meeting their anxious and terrified gaze with her warmth and understanding, she was their soft place to land. They took a deep breath, the pit in their stomach beginning to dissipate. I'm not alone. She'll have a plan.
“She submitted it at the end of last semester.” Emma paused, weighing something in her mind before she spoke. “I'm going to suggest something, and it's going to sound crazy - I mean, so much of what happens at this school is crazy but this feels like its kind of another kind of crazy but I don't trust coincidences and - “
“Spit it out, Cricket-.”
“Go for it, Em. We'll still hang out with you, even if it is crazy.”
“Speak for yourself, Mar.” They were hoping that they sounded playful and not genuinely pissed, but the joke fell flat. “Jordan.”
“Alright, alright. Judgment free zone, or whatever.”
“Look. I'm no stranger to a hate campaign, ok? I know that it can happen overnight, no matter your following. But...” She paused, trying to find the right words. “Have you ever seen bot comments? Like on insta or tiktok or whatever?” The non sequitur was so Emma that it wouldn't usually bother Jordan, but they were so on edge they had to fight back the urge to shake the blonde until she spat out whatever theory she'd cooked up about her mystery science friend.
They didn't understand why this mystery struck them so deeply - it wasn't just anger at Brink or curiosity as to the identity of the genius lurking in the background of Godolkin. There was something instinctual, something primal that they didn't have the time to investigate. Everything about this felt urgent and important, an unexplainable energy thrumming in their veins, leaving them bouncing on their toes as they tried to remain in control. “Get to the point, Em. Please.” They gritted out.
“She submitted the paper at the end of last semester, and she went from being basically unknown by everyone to being harassed almost constantly. I feel insane suggesting it was started intentionally, but then I remember the whole shitshow with Tommy Chambers.”
“Who...” Marie started hesitantly.
“Isn't that the performing arts dropout from 09?” Jordan asked Emma, a furrow in their brow.
“Yeah. He found out the hard way that if you drop out, you don't have the rights to anything you do here.”
They knew that, everyone did now. Some of the more liberal professors had taken to reminding students of that fact in class. But it wasn't until Emma laid it out like that that it actually clicked in Jordan's mind. If Brink wanted her research buried, he couldn't just deny funding or cancel her program. If she graduated, she would just take her research elsewhere. And expulsion is a process that requires multiple code of conduct violations and multiple faculty members involved.
But if she left of her own free will... her research would become Vought's. They could delay clinical trials indefinitely, impede production or distribution of the treatment...
“So you think Brink manufactured a hate campaign against an unknown nerd just to hide her research?” They sounded more skeptical than they were, the scheme making a sick amount of sense.
“That's the thing. I can't tell how much is manufactured Vought bullshit and how much is normal asshole bullshit. The comments seem real enough to me. But the timing is sus as fuck.” She snatched the bong back from them, relighting the bowl deftly.
“So. We've got a theory, and a paper, and another ten days before Brink is back on campus. What can we do?” As usual, Marie was there to bring them back to Earth before they thought themself into an anxiety attack. Or an assault charge.
“Well, I was going to go pick up some more weed and The Queen from her, you guys could come and meet her, at least?” The blonde bounced up again, knocking the half finished bag of chips and her textbook to the ground.
“The Queen?” Jordan asked with a wry smile, but they were moving to follow the blonde without complaint. Just as urgently that they'd felt the need to dive headfirst into this mystery, they somehow knew they needed to meet this girl.
“My potted plant. She's helping her.”
And Marie was no different. She didn't dare to hope that this was the moment, but there was something familiar about this drive. It reminded her of the need she'd felt to attend GodU. The push to demand her rightful place in the Crime Fighting program.
Was this another moment of fate leaning on the scales, pushing her and Jordan towards their final piece?
If you hadn't been planning on meeting Emma that afternoon, you might've ducked out of the greenhouse before this random group of sophomores came over to poke fun at you. But instead here you were, trying to document the growth progress of your seedlings to the cackling soundtrack of frat boys trying to get under your skin.
“Hey, plant freak! Whatcha workin’ on?”
“I think those are her friends. Plant girl, you makin’ friends over there?”
Nothing original or particularly cruel, just the buzzing drone of casual harassment that had become increasingly common for you.
But if they hadn't been there, you would've felt the way your soulmark only burned hotter as you ignored the insults, and you would've run, just like you had way back in October, and in every chance since.
You were too focused on ignoring the bullies, on getting this one seedling to behave when -
A beefy hand snatched the seedling from your grasp, smirking cruelly at you before he crushed the delicate bluish-green plant in his fist. You reached for the now dead plant (the third one someone had killed), glaring up at the frat boy.
You didn’t notice that you'd gained a new audience.
“Oh, good, you finally learned to pick on something with the same brain power as yourself.” You spat, feeling a strange new sense of strength and indignation.
“Aw, scared, plant freak?” Another guy butted in with a cruel glint in his eye, leaning against the back table. “You should be. You don't belong here.”
You were standing there, surrounded by too many assholes and feeling incredibly exposed. You know how to throw a punch, but that's about it, and you've never actually had to -
“What the fuck is your problem, Crawley?” The last voice you could have expected broke the tense silence in the greenhouse.
Jordan Li.
“Back. Off.”
Marie Moreau.
Your head snapped up, your body turning towards the two of them like a compass pointing north. And the moment you'd been running from for five months hit you like a speeding train.
Your eyes met theirs, time slowed to a crawl, and the bond clicked into place. All the breath left your lungs in a huff and you could only stare at the two of them, eyes wide and lips slightly parted, as the rest of the world faded away.
This?
This is what you were so afraid of?
This is what you'd been running from?
You could feel them. Your heart shifted to beat in time with theirs, every breath flowing through all three of you like one singular system. And the warmth in your soulmark - it spread across your body, flowing through you to every vein and capillary and back to your heart.
You didn't hear the frat boys shuffle away, the presence of three Guardians of Godolkin turning the tides against the crowd of beefy idiots. You didn't hear Emma shout obscenities at their retreating backs. You didn't hear anything other than your own heartbeat and the feeling of home that washed over you as you stood there, dumbfounded, your gaze never leaving Marie and Jordan. Your world had narrowed, your vision tunneled, and nothing else seemed to matter. Two pairs of brown eyes staring into your soul, three hearts becoming one.
“Did you know?” Jordan's voice broke the silence, and for a moment, you were sure they were talking to you, until Emma piped up.
“Not that it was like this. You didn't tell me it had gotten that bad.” The blonde chastised you, and you blinked, forcing your eyes away from the duo and to your friend.
“I, uh, it's not that bad.” You managed to stammer out stupidly, still feeling like you'd been knocked off your axis. “Though I wish Bradley would stop killing my samples. I'm a plant doctor, not a necromancer.” Your voice was a bit hoarse and everything sounded a little far away, the joke falling flat in the awkward silence of the greenhouse. You blinked rapidly, trying to keep your eyes from drifting back to your soulmates.
“Did you know?” This time it was Marie who spoke, and your eyes snapped to hers immediately. You nodded before you could think better of it, her eyes demanding honesty. “October?” You nodded again. “Why...”
That shame that you'd been neatly filing away burst free in your gut and you had to look away.
“I... didn't want you to meet this version of me.” You confessed quietly. “I was going to find you both in January but things got... complicated.”
“Can someone tell me what the fuck is happening right now?” Emma demanded, her eyes darting between the three of you. Marie flashed her wrist and you caught a flash of the sister mark to yours pressed into her skin like it belonged there. Like you belonged with her. Because you do.
“You're kidding.” A grin was slowly stretching across her face. “Jordan, you're stealing all my friends!” They coughed roughly, something dangerously close to a blush dusting their cheeks.
You leaned heavily against the table in front of you, relief and exhaustion making your legs feel shaky and unreliable. The bond was still thrumming in every vein, leaving you almost dizzy with it. It was almost as if your energy itself had morphed around both of theirs all at once. Even the way you breathed felt in sync.
And you were beginning to feel their emotions, different tenors of energy flowing through you. A spiking worry, an anxious buzz, an undercurrent of tension, a steady strength humming beneath it all.
You understood now why it was so hard to study the bond itself - why all the scientists you'd read avoided speaking to the sensations and explanations of a bond. Article after article of ‘while we don't understand the mechanisms of soul bonds or soul marks, it is necessary to...’ It drove you crazy - if even other scientists don't understand what the hell is going on, how can you trust that it means what everyone says it does? But now... now you see.
There was nothing scientific about this.
This connection felt like more than biology. More than the kind of urge that was brought about by baser needs, this went deeper. Deeper than the physical, even deeper than the emotional. Your father used to say that bonding with your mom felt like he’d stopped being held in place by gravity; instead, it was her existence that kept him tethered to the earth and he found himself stuck in her orbit.
You used to think he was being dramatic, overstating the connection to save your childlike sensibilities. Now you know that he was underselling it.
Marie sent Emma back to her dorm with the plant and the weed, promising that she'd make up the study session in the next couple of days. The blonde left with a wink and a wave, a suggestive comment that you couldn’t catch.
You still felt shaky - like a raw nerve or a live wire, vulnerable. Even as the bond settled, there were still a million questions. A thousand what-ifs, countless worries... Finding your voice felt impossible. You tore your eyes from the table, looking up at Jordan and Marie, eyes swimming with the flood of new emotions.
“Intense, huh?” Jordan’s voice broke the silence. You could only nod mutely, drawing a deep breath through your nose and out through your mouth.
“I... I’m sorry. For running.” You finally managed to get your mouth working again. “I thought I could out-plan fate but clearly...” you gestured to the chaos around you, the crushed seedling laying limply on the counter.
You could still feel their hurt, but there was an understanding there as well that you wanted to fall into. Was this what being bonded was really like? Was this what you’d been running from?
Marie and Jordan were having a whole conversation with just their eyes, and you didn’t even have a chance to decide how you felt about before they were starting off in the direction they came, Marie hooking her arm in yours as she went.
You’d spent months running and hiding, trying to make your life perfect. Trying to make your life worth them. Now, on the other side, none of that bullshit seemed to matter.
Because you were home.
an: let me know if yall want a part two or other works in this version of the soulmate au!
