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One Chance Pls - Blog Posts

itsnexhun

2 years ago

usually not a fan of soulmate au BUT THIS IS SO GOOD SNDKKFK

I’m such a sucker for a soulmate au! The Uvo one was amazing, would you write one for feitan?

Au where every mark/scar/tattoo appears on the other person as well and u die if ur soulmate dies

It wasn’t an uncommon practice.

A lot of prominent families that were publicly well-known tattooed every single one of their members with a symbol. The symbol slightly differed per member, as to easily match the soulmates together as soon as the tattoo had been verified. People waking up with such a mark couldn’t hide it forever after all, and most didn’t want to. Why hide such a thing when it meant you were meant for royalty or riches?

It wasn’t like that for you.

As soon as the tattoo had formed on your leg, when you were about sixteen, you hadn’t minded it that much. You found it a bit tacky and big, but you weren’t that hung-up about it. That all changed when you watched the news a bit more.

More and more news items were broadcast about a group of thieves committing atrocities, which wouldn’t have shaken you up that much if the news-reader didn’t keep adding:

‘The band of thieves is recognizable by the large spider tattoos with numbers located on their bodies-’

As soon as you’d realized that you had ran to your parents like a little baby, crying and asking what to do. Your mother, ever the quick-thinker, immediately covered the tattoo with everything at her disposal while your father was still processing what it meant.

While it wasn’t publicly endorsed, everyone knew what happened to the soulmates of criminals. Killing them would mean killing the criminal, which was often easier than finding and eliminating the original criminal. It was such a useful technique, even the state closed their eyes to the practice, only interfering when they deemed it necessary.

You had even heard of special sort of bounty hunters, who went after soulmates instead of the criminals themselves.

The Phantom Troupe was known for their gruesome crimes, having no respect or care for human life at all. They probably had gigantic bounties on their heads, meaning you had a gigantic bounty on your head. Even if the tattoo was fake, who would be willing to take that chance?

This tattoo meant you were in danger and it meant that whoever got the tattoo was dangerous.

Covering up had been quite easy, though it impeded on a lot of your life. You never could go swimming, you never undressed in front of others and you had to spend fifteen minutes every morning applying make-up to your upper-leg. Your mother had ingrained these things into your head, making sure that you never told anyone else, not even those you thought you could trust.

And for a long time, it went fine.

The fear of being found turned into a mild noise at the back of your head, quieted by the constant rituals you undertook to ensure it never came to be. In the end, how you were found out was still a mystery to you, but the method didn’t really matter at all. The question was who would find you first.

And for better or for worse, it turned out to be your soulmate.

Walking home at night never was a pleasant endeavor, but it was one you were forced to undertake every evening. Your bus didn’t stop anywhere closer, so the last two blocks between the bus stop and home had to go on foot. The necessity of it didn’t make the feeling any less though, the dark and bleak alleyways always creeping you out.

Blasting your music on a high enough volume to drown out your anxieties, you speed-walked toward your house.

It was pretty late, so you had expected to be the only one on the street, thinking the rest of the city to be sleeping away in their beds. Mostly you were right, lights turning off all around you, though there was one man walking straight toward you coming from the opposite direction.

It was always creepy to walk toward other people at such hours, but he gave off a really creepy vibe. His hands were in his pockets, his eyes straight toward you, not even pretending to look elsewhere. If only for the fact that you walked this piece of town every night, but you tried not to let it get to you, walking on with just the slightest bit of hesitance in your step.

He came closer, still staring straight at you, and you wished to God that he would just walk on.

You lowered the volume of your music, finding the situation a bit too creepy to not keep your complete attention on it.

Closing in on you, he suddenly stopped walking and your heart skipped a beat, your hands digging into your pockets to push a key in between your knuckles just in case. The man was pretty small in stature, but his presence felt dangerous, and everything from his black coat to the cowl masking his lower face to the umbrella he was carrying just screamed suspicious.

It hadn’t even rained at all this week.

You tried to walk on, ignoring that he had just stopped, but he still looked directly at you.

“Do you have no self-preservation?” He suddenly asked, making you halt immediately. If anyone else had tried to talk to you, you would’ve booked it, but his tone of voice demanded your attention above all else.

You turned slightly to him, pulling one earplug out of your ear.

“Are you talking to me?” You asked, faking not having paid attention. He merely tilted his head, unimpressed with your acting.

You were about to put your earbuds back in and run away when he suddenly grabbed you by your hair. Releasing a sound of surprise and pain, you were about to scream when his other hand went to cover your mouth. He held a strength you hadn’t expected from him, yet it seemed to fit him seamlessly.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He added, short and curt with his words, talking in an accent you had trouble placing. You were about to try and pull away again when he pulled your hair further down. “And shut up.”

Your eyes widened, the force of his words and the glare attached easily shutting up any attempt at screaming you had planned. He seemed satisfied with your fearful gaze, removing his grip on your hair and mouth. His words weren’t sufficient enough to keep you quiet when his hand moved lower, right down to your legs, a soft yelp escaping you.

A terrifying glare was sent your way, making you sure his patience was running out. You shut yourself up again, looking around frantically to anyone else on the street, a new form of panic forming when you saw absolutely no one.

A tear in your legging was not what you had expected when he’d moved his hands down, and they filled you with a new kind of fear. The location of the tear was a bit odd for that, however, and you came to a sudden realization what he was looking for when he looked up in mild surprise as the skin beneath the legging was blank.

“Where is the tattoo?” He asked, though his question was said more as a statement than an actual question. When you looked away, not saying anything he suddenly gripped your throat tightly, his nails digging into your skin. You cried out in pain, not loud enough for anyone to hear.

“Where is it.”

“Ma-make-up” You managed to croak out, the dark-haired man's nails drawing blood in your neck. Frantically your hands went to your tattoo, rubbing away the make-up, your skin hurting from the force and desperation you applied.

As soon as you managed to wipe away a small piece of the foundation, he let you go, re-assessing the now partially visible tattoo. You doubled over, wheezing up air as you were let go, your throat burning.

He chuckled at your state, the first sign of emotion besides annoyance you’d seen come out of him. “See? No self-preservation. What if I had been a bounty hunter? What would you have done?”

Still catching your breath, you looked up at him, the moonlight illuminating the small smile you could see behind the cowl. His eyes stood amused, though it wasn’t an amusement you felt the need to be acquainted with, too dark to be good news.

His hand cupped your chin, his thumb making soft motions on your cheek.

“What good news I found you first.”