prompt: soulmate!au (the first words you hear your soulmate say are marked on you)
warnings: n/a
a/n: it's ~Short~. so short. also reader and yautja know ASL (which is just Canon so .,,...,, thats pretty neat :3 )
Here's the thing about your soulmate situation: when you hear someone say those three magic words that are on your wrist?
It means literally nothing to you.
And not because you don't believe in, or value, soulmates, but it just so happened that you were apart of the tragically large percentage of the populace with some of the most generic shit ever inked under your skin.
What the fuck.
Like, what were you supposed to do with this? Who doesn't say 'what the fuck'? You say 'what that fuck' more times a day than you can even think to name. You've heard it as someone's first words more times than you would think.
Most people, especially those with that generic shit on their arm, prepare a very specific phrase they give in reply to every new person they meet, just to make sure they don't end up missing their soulmate.
Of course, whether you had that contingency plan or not didn't matter, because regardless: it would be hard to be particularly articulate, or remember any unique phrase in your current situation - hanging in a tree, caught in a net.
As you dangled from a tree, a frighteningly large height off the ground, and your limbs contorted uncomfortably, you couldn't help but note that this was decidedly not the relaxing afternoon stroll you anticipated.
Many of his kin thought him arrogant, almost dangerously so. Those even less informed further thought him one more battle, one more kill, away from snapping and become Bad Blood. But he knew better, as did his clanmates (though they still poked fun at his arrogance).
But was it arrogance when you were as strong as you thought?
He loved the hunt, craved it, but he was not an irrational beast. He simply enjoyed what he - and all Yautja - did. And, more to the point, he was good at what he did - he would argue one of the best, if not the best period.
Humans in general were rarely worthy prey, but there were rare Yautja - ones who came back and told stories of those few human warriors worthy of combat. Naru, Dutch, Harrigan, Woods, Ripley, Da'dtou-di. The list was short; humans in general were quite weak, cowardly, and all in all inadequate prey. To choose to hunt one of them is, if not always an outright violation of the Code, then toeing the line.
But L'ulij-gra knew he could find one. One such human that was a worthy challenger, respectable prey, and then he could boast his new and rare trophy to any other Yautja that dare challenge or doubt him.
He'd been tracking one, learned its schedule. Part of its training routine was jogs through a dense forest on the outskirts of its village, typically with its hound. That is why he had set the net trap, to catch his prized challenge, one of his greatest prey.
However, as he lurked high in the tree tops - cloaked to the naked eye, he had to watch some other human stumble in the way. He couldn't help the growl that came out as it obliviously stepped onto the trap, triggering the net to enclose around it and fling it up - leaving it caged and dangling from the tree. His plan for the day's hunt now ruined.
You almost didn't hear it, over your yelling and screaming, but your ears picked it up none the less. Something growled, snarled - a deep, guttural, horrifying sound that was so unfamiliar and alien it made your skin crawl, and so loud you could practically feel the vibrations.
What you actually did end up feeling, was air blowing against you and something flew past. Specifically, fell down, from the top of the tree onto the ground below you.
What you saw next, you could barely comprehend. On the ground, you noticed there was... pressure, on the grass and leaves - yet nothing was there. But you had felt something fall - heard it, felt it.
As you struggled to make sense of it all, you noticed the air. It looked... off.
You were nearly eleven feet off the ground, easy, but as you focused your gaze on the off putting air, you realized there was something standing just below you. The top of its head reached only a few inches from the dip in the net from which you found yourself hung.
If that alone wasn't enough to tip you off that this wasn't human, then the way the air seemed to flicker and fold, slowly 'shedding' and revealing a literal non-human creature did the job just fine.
The way the net scooped you up had you on your back, head tilted back uncomfortably as you looked (upside)down at the creature all too close. You doubt seeing it right side up would have made the situation any less scary.
Its skin was a murky green, spotted with black, and its body was hulking and muscular. A large metal mask covered its entire face, stretching up to the top of its head. There was also metal armor on its shoulders, wrists, and shins, while the rest of its body was 'covered' by a type of netting material. You assumed there was a loin cloth or something beneath the belt that had many large pouches attached all around it. You also took notice of the strange pieces of metal on each forearm. They looked like bracers, but too thick - and they had sections that glowed.
Like, what in the smartwatch-?
Of course this was an alien (or maybe you were on a high budget prank show, in which case you were ready to sue), but it wasn't until it let out a sharp, loud roar that the reality of the situation fully cemented itself in your mind. Its stance was tense, and you could feel a negative energy coming off of it. At first you figured it was angry, but given that it hadn't… killed you yet, just screamed at the heavens, you dare say it was more... annoyed, than anything.
"What ... the fuck." Your voice was shaky, cracking as you struggled to vocalize your confusion and fear.
Something in your words had the creature tilting its head, examining you with additional attention. Suddenly, it pressed at one of its gauntlets, sharp claws managing to delicately - you would even say beautifully - maneuver the interface before a voice spoke out.
But not just any voice: it was your exact voice.
"What the fuck." It 'spoke' to you, tilting its head left and right further as it regarded you curiously.
Your own words echoed back to you; your very voice, your tone and cadence down to the wire. A recording of what you just said played back. But even though it was technically your own words, as soon as they came out of its mouth (or… mask?), you just knew. You felt it. A tug at your core, a sense of peace.
This was your soulmate. And apparently that counted as the first words you heard it speak.
Though, you didn't have much time to bask in the joy of reunion (or succumb to the throws of panic and existentialism - whichever came first, really), before the net was suddenly cut lose and you found yourself falling towards the ground.
Which would have been a nasty fall.
Thankfully your soulmate's arms caught you with record speed. Though, given that his muscled arms were as hard and thick as fucking tree trunks, you couldn't say for certain landing in them was less painful than the hard forest floor below.
In fact, you could state that with complete certainty, because after you two stared into each other eyes (eye slits? what with the mask and all?) in what should have been a romantic moment, it simply dropped its arms and let you fall (from a significantly less fatal height) the rest of the way onto the ground.
"Ouch!"
Throwing a pout, you lazily throw out your hand to give the closest body part of your alien soulmate a smack. Now, the fact that the closest part happened to be a thigh did fluster you a bit, leaving you unprepared for when it grabbed your forearm, turning your tattooed wrist towards its gaze.
You watched it examine your tattoo in fascination. Like it was taking stock. Well, it obviously knew what soulmates were, so that was… good? Maybe? Something less to explain, at the very least.
It caught your eyes scanning its own arms, and turned its hand to show you the wrist you were clearly looking for. The writing was a series of dashes you couldn't understand on its own, but at least you knew what they must mean.
"What... who are you?"
It held the palm of its hands over its face, curling its claws and you could make out from the tension of its muscles that it was conveying aggression. You recognized his signing.
Mad.
Then, with its hand as if holding something, it swung in a downward curve to the right, then flicked to the left.
Sword.
Well, a cooler meaning than your name, you thought. Definitely more badass. Yes, think of the positives.
You raised your hands to return the favor. "Um, I'm-"
However, before you could continue, you found yourself once again hoisted up off the ground.
Of course, not in the romantic bridal carry kind of way - but rather in a bag of potatoes kind of way. It had grabbed you by your lifted up arms and tossed you over its shoulder with unceremonious ease.
You two, you decided, would really need to work on your communication.
His mate weakly punched at his back, kicking and squirming in his hold. He clicked his mandibles in annoyance - he would have to train them himself; its fellow humans didn't train it adequately enough it seemed. What if something else tried to catch it? Kill it? They'd be dead in seconds, and that just wouldn't do.
Yes, he thought to himself - as his mate's restlessness continued to be little more of an inconvenience than a little bug flying around one's head, he'd have to start training them immediately.
It had been nothing more than annoyance, when he went to untie you. An unworthy catch, getting in the way of his true prey. But now that he had you, knew what you truly were, his blood lust had quieted. Which was a rare state for L'ulij-gra, about as rare as a human being a Yautja's mate. But his prey human was going no where, and so the hunt could continue another day; there were more important matters to attend to. Luckily, his clan was made up of... other odd Yautjas, and so he knew that, ultimately, his new mate would be accepted on board. Not that there was a choice - he would fight them all, at once if necessary, to keep them by his side.
"Don't just man-handle me, you dick!"
A raspy chuckle escaped him at your continued - though fruitless and ultimately pointless - struggle.
While it may not be particularly strong, at least his mate was entertaining.
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