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It's rare, having a soulmark. Having someone else's name etched upon your skin is a leftover evolutionary trait, designed for finding who you are most compatible with in order to produce healthy offspring.

It's outdated. It's dying out. Humans have moved past the need for them, like wisdom teeth, Emily reasons.

Some people have them, some don't. Emily Raines is one of the few to have been born with a soulmark, his name in messy scrawl along her clavicle; Owen. The problem? He's already met his Emily... right? Or; what if Finding Emily was a soulmate au?

CHAPTER 1

A/N: little shortcut in your eyes is also up on ao3! Gonna try and cross post here for this one 🫶 the fic is below the cut, please excuse the rambling in my author's note LMAOOOOO

It's been a minute since I wrote on here. I was previously under "kayharrisons" (hi og bjorn/spike girlies if you're still here) and had a LOT of reader inserts on here which I've since deleted. I'm not big into writing reader inserts anymore, unfortunately. And tbh I was so mentally exhausted just looking at em. I didn't feel joy at the thought of writing, it felt like a chore, which sucked, because I DO love to write. Ngl, feeling MUCH happier now that I've made that choice!

With that out of the way, I hope whoever reads this fic enjoys it! Got a lot going on irl atm, so the next few chapters might take a little minute!

Soulmates are something of a small statistic, these days. Every 1 in 10,000, or something of the sort.

The numbers used to be higher, it used to be the case that every tenth person had a soulmate way back when. Somehow the universe just knew who on earth was your so called perfect match, who would compliment your personality and who was biologically compatible.

Something something, soulmates tend to produce healthier offspring.

Emily thought the whole ordeal was a fucking nightmare.

The universe supposedly says "this one person is it for you" and that's supposed to be it? You're supposed to just roll over and accept it? What if you meet them young? Are you expected to never even think about anyone else romantically? Are you to just grin and bear it?

What if your soulmate is abusive? A murderer? The worst of the worst? Isn't it an insult, a giant fuck you from the universe, that you're matched with them?

It has never made sense to Emily why people lose their fucking minds over soulmates.

It's illogical. It's insanity.

She has one.

Owen.

His name curls along her clavicle, handwriting messy, as if he'd stopped by in the night and scribbled his name on her before running away.

She had been born with it, which means he is older than her. Other than that, she knows nothing about him.

Major flaws in the system; he could be any age and, again, she knows nothing about him.

She does not hunt for him, despite what her friends suggest that is in fact what she should be doing with her free time. No, Emily does not hunt for boys called Owen. She parties, she studies a little too hard in between episodes of 90 Day Fiancé with her mom whilst wishing she could actually have some sort of conversation with her that did not make her feel like she was readying the tinfoil hats.

She kisses boys who aren't called Owen. She sleeps with the odd one or two. She never has a steady relationship because most boys get pissy about her having a soulmate, despite her stance being firmly towards not seeking him out. Honestly, the odds of her actually finding him are slim to fucking none anyway. This factoid matters little to boys who feel their ego is threatened.

Emily writes papers about soulmates. She looks into the pros and cons; leaning firmly towards more cons than anything else, mind you. Her goddamn thesis is about how love, and therefore soulmates, tend to cause insanity.

People tut at her for such a stance, but, honestly, it makes more sense to her than the notion of falling head over heels just because somebody's name is written on you. How are you even supposed to know that you're actually soulmates?

Millions of people share names, after all! She doesn't buy the bullshit claims from pairs who say they just knew the second they found out the name of their other half.

Honestly... how can you gage whether or not you're going to spend the rest of your life with somebody based off of nothing but a name?

It's insanity.

**********/*?

Owen is certain he's going to spend the rest of his life with her.

He watches Emily prance off, pulled away by her friends, her wings bobbing with the movement, her laugh echoing through the night, and he is nothing short of enchanted.

His gut feelings when it comes to girls are usually wrong. His brother loves to take the piss out of him for it, delighting in his brother's misery and dramatics when it comes to girls.

Matt has it easy. He'd met Freya during sixth form when she'd moved schools. The rest was history.

Owen wants that.

He dreams of the connection, of the fact that there was one person out there that the universe had decided was perfect for him.

Emily.

The mark had appeared some months after his second birthday, to his mother's delight. It was rare for a family to have more than one person with a mark.

God fucking knows his parents hadn't.

Her name is elegantly scrawled onto his left pointer finger, more often than not resulting in him daydreaming during classes and hang outs, eyes always drawn to the elegnant swoops of her writing.

Sometimes, he'll trace it with his right pointer finger, will mouth her name to himself over and over, letting the syllables roll from his lips and surround him, like a warm embrace.

She has always brought him comfort. During his darkest days, after mum's death, just the very thought of this mysterious Emily kept him going.

And now, he's met her.

Now, all he has to do is call her, or text. All he has to do is make her laugh that gorgeous laugh again, and then everything will start to fall into place.

But, as Owen Brompton will come to discover, life is of course never that simple.

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