#mate 2

[vavoom-sorted-art]

Angel/Demon Mating Dance (all the turtleneck madness drove me to... whatever this is. Enjoy.)

(yes, it is inspired by this:)

[skapediem]

saw spiderverse twice today and pavitr prabhakar did you know that you are EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!

[crowlixcx]

I’ll just go to head office and explain it all.

[homkamiro]

🐭🐶🐱

[luxaofhesperides]

Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!

For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.

It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.

But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly. 

His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color. 

He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.

And then it went nearly colorless. 

Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating. 

Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate. 

Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.

A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever. 

“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy. 

Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents. 

“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.

The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it. 

Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence. 

“Morning,” Duke offers.

“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”

“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”

Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”

“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”

Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”

“I’ll drive, too.”

“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”

Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”

“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”

“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”

Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”

Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door. 

The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out. 

The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once. 

Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words. 

“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”

“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”

“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”

The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left. 

“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze. 

It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.

Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.  

He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo. 

He gets the Vietnamese Plate.

Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.” 

The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles. 

Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”

“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”

As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”

She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen. 

Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders. 

Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.

But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.

The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that. 

She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet. 

As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day. 

“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”

“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”

“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security. 

He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction. 

As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage. 

Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”

“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office. 

“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”

“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”

“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.

Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time. 

Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives. 

“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.

Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”

“Oh, yikes.”

“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”

“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.

He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed. 

“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”

Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”

“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”

“What does this do?”

“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”

“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises. 

Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”

She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye. 

By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.

Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.

“Duke?”

It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest. 

It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die. 

This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it. 

He won’t let anyone take it from him. 

“Duke. Give that to me.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary. 

“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat. 

Bruce reaches a hand out. 

He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him. 

“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.

“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”

Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.

Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.

Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away. 

The orb in his hand moves. 

Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.

It’s his soulmark. 

Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it. 

One moment, the orb was still.

The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap. 

Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid. 

“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot. 

“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face. 

“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.

“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke. 

“Are you alright?”

Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”

Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises. 

If anyone can, it’s Batman. 

If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends. 

Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.

[theroamingtrashcan]

me going literally anywhere after the arcane finale be like

[hajihiko]

Heard about the food poisoning. That really sucks. I hope you feel better soon 💙💙💙

thank you! It wasn't great but I lived ✌

But this ask gives me context for my doodle woes

(when you've been throwing up so hard you sprain your abs)

(that's one thing the lab can't prep you for)

[beensbaee]

𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒚𝒂𝒎 𝒔𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆 ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

summary; neteyam didn’t know how head over heels he truly was for you - until he saw Ao’nung and his friends bullying you.

word count; 3.2k (really proud of this one! let me know what you think 🥹🩵💙)

THE BOND.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Neteyam knew he was going to have a difficult time adjusting to The Way Of Water. From the moment he landed his Ikran, the defensive stares he'd received from the clan had him bowing his head in shame.

He knew how bad his family looked - running away from a war and seeking uturu in a place with peace that wished to stay undisturbed.

He never talked badly about the treatment he and his family received, because he knew how big of a sacrifice they were making by letting them stay. And he was thankful.

But there was a certain part of him - a secretive, tucked away piece that desperately wished he could be treated the way he always wanted to be. Equally.

Not questioned in any way - or seen as something to avoid. That was how he wanted the clan to react. Not be put on a pedestal - like back at home, where the pressure to be perfect was crushing. And not stomped on - like some sort of a threat, something to be questioned and investigated when he had first arrived. A burden.

Oh how he hated the treatment. The glares he'd first received. The backhanded compliments from Ao'nung and his friends - boy's his own age. Even the Tsahik's comments had him up at night - tossing and turning as he wished - dreamt for things to go back the way they were. When it was just him and his family - peaceful and alone in their home.

He was walking on the sand when he first saw you. On a stroll during the night whilst his family slept - trying to clear his mind. A small movement in the water had caught his eye - and it was only natural for him to go and see what it was. He approached the water with careful steps, the bioluminescence of the underwater plants shining through as he peered down - looking for what had made movement underwater with furrowed brows. His eyes searched the water carefully - but he saw nothing.

Unbeknownst to him however, you had seen someone approach the water and swam behind one of the reefs easily. You gently lifted your head above the water, watching the boy search the sea with a curiosity you simply found adorable.

The way his brows were knitted together with confusion had you smiling - how his tail wagged expectedly behind him as your mind came up with the clever idea to play a harmless trick on your clan's guest.

Of course you had seen him around - but you had been watching from afar. Not letting him see you so you could take in the guests who'd come to your island without them noticing.

Your arms moved forward, pushing downward as you swam deep into the water - a simple maneuver to avoid any water at the surface moving and giving away your presence underneath.

He was leaning over the vines now, still positive he'd seen something as you finally made yourself visible - curls with the most colorful shells braided into them was one of the first things he saw as you met his eyes -

What an extraordinary shade they were.

You smirked, whispering a playful boo as those stunning eyes widened.

He was startled, stumbling backwards from pure surprise - you had caught him off guard, and the fact made you laugh.

He watched as you came out of the water - the act reminding him of a flower blooming with the way your beauty appeared when he'd least expected it.

The way you approached him was mesmerizing- your curls moving like waves when you walked. And the manner in which you moved your hands to do the gesture I see you had his clenched fists opening with a tender feeling too overwhelming.

He knew Eywa had heard him - knew she had given him something so special when he'd first seen your precious smile.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You were exceptionally good at making him nervous.

It was a feeling he'd been feeling a lot recently. 

Like when the Tsahik would visit his family's Marui and ask how they were doing, her piercing eyes unwavering as Neteyam quieted instantly - his palms sweaty as he waited for the news. War had come. They had to leave - any of those seemed possible with the way her eyes seemed to ice over when she looked at them.

Mastering the Ilu was another thing he'd grown nervous of - watching even Lo'ak - his baby bro - whom he'd always needed to help, master it and already bond with the fellow clan members had him saddened. The disappointment was something suffocating as he struggled every single day.

But with you, his nervousness was something different

It was like a bird - fluttering and caged in his chest, wanting to break through and fly freely.

You became the one he would seek out every morning and night, his mind beginning to recognize the familiar path from his Marui to yours. He liked how your stare wasn't something accusing - but something curious. Your gentle questions soothed him - they were calm and kind and so sweet that his face would warm due to the thrilling sensation of your eyes staring into his.

There was something different about you from the rest of the clan - something he loved so much.

Your eyes were the darkest color he'd ever seen was what he'd quickly realized. They were not the same striking turquoise as the rest of the clan, but a deep hue of blue that reminded him of home. A shade so comforting to him, one that reminded him of the sky before eclipse. Of the plants back at home - of himself and everything he loved.

Maybe they should have been alarming - it would have been to anyone else who'd never seen such a color. But for him, it was different. He could never put it into words - but your eyes never made him uneasy.

Unexplainable, was what you'd told him when he'd asked you about them, it was a trait you were simply born with.

He wondered if you had yet realized that your eyes were the exact color of his skin.

You loved exploring the island too - you'd take him with you, showing Neteyam your favorite sights and your favorite treats to eat.

When you asked him about his life before - he didn't speak with the sadness he expected to come when talking about his home, but a feeling similar to bliss came as he imagined showing you the forest. Oh how you would adore the plants - the animals - and how well you would fit into his clan. Your heart would be something they would treasure. He imagined showing you everything he loved the same way you showed him the reef.

It did not take long for him to realize that you did not have friends.

He'd see you at dinner, sitting alone but seemingly pleased as you ate by yourself.

You were in your own little world was what he'd quickly realized - you'd watch the sky a lot and close your eyes, a content smile on your face was how he'd catch you many times. He wished to be with you - in whatever world you were in.

You were like his sister, Kiri - your connection to Eywa so deeply rooted, just like hers.

He worried he was interrupting your solitude at times- but he did not want to leave you alone.

When he asked if he was in fact distrusting your peace, you laughed - a sound that had him releasing a breath he didn't even know he was holding in.

No - he was not, in any form, disturbing your peace. You told him he was someone you looked forward to - and the fondness in your voice had him moving closer to you - where the two of you sat on rocks nearby the ongoing clan having dinner

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

"You look forward to meeting me?"

The hesitation in his voice when he spoke was heartbreaking. He was looking at the water - avoiding your eyes. But they glistened in the moonlight, and you felt your heart break at the sight. You promised yourself to never see him so unsure of himself, to always show him how special he was. How special he was to you.

"Neteyam." You whispered

He turned, swallowing the lump in his throat as you smiled at him, unable to contain your affection for the Sully boy

"You are special. So special. I am beyond lucky Eywa has allowed our paths to cross. To me, you are my secret treasure." You teased as his familiar smile appeared - his sharp fangs peaking through as he looked at you.

"Funny. I thought the same way about you."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

He did not know when he had fallen for you, but he knew he was too caught up and entangled in your little word to even realize.

Maybe it was when he saw you interacting with Tuk the first time. He'd been looking for you all morning - worried and sad by the fact that he simply could not find you for the life of him, only to hear your bubbly laugh - followed by his little sister’s as he found both of you swimming together

"Neteyam! I made a new friend!" Was what Tuk squealed

"Neteyam, how could you hide this adorable little girl from me for this long?" Was what you'd asked teasingly, Tuk's eyes round with love as she looked up at you with nothing but pure adoration from your kindness

Or maybe he realized his love for you when you gifted him his favorite accessory - a simple bracelet with a beautiful blue shell intertwined expertly between the thin vines - your cheeks pink and your laughter nervous as you handed him the gift. His cheeks were just as red as he stumbled over his words - thanking you over and over again as you looked at him with the same eyes he loved so much

He never took it off - never would.

Sometimes he thought it was when you'd first met - but he knows that even if it was, he only grew to love you more as the months went by.

But when did he grow so protective?

He knows what day that was.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Ao'nung had been persistent, annoying you to the point where you had simply stopped replying

"I mean, I knew you were a freak from the start - but betraying your own clan, hanging out with that Sully boy? I mean - that is just low." He laughed, his goons right behind them as they only encouraged his insults with their own rising laughter

Your head was down as you continued weaving the basket in front of you, not even raising your head to look at the crowd of boys around you

"Yea, why do you even hang out with him? Found someone as out of place as you? Didn't know you'd be so friendly with those half bloods - "

The way he'd spit his words out was what angered you the most

"Do not call them that." You finally snapped, Ao'nung was unable to stop himself from taking a step back from the look in your eyes

"You are wrong - I hope you know that Ao'nung." You seethed, eyes alight as the boy bared his teeth

" I can't believe you. You should just leave with them - I doubt anyone would miss you." He spat, hands clenched by his sides as you heard a voice

"Hey!"

It was a distant sound, but your brows furrowed with alarm as you watched Lo'ak approach - immediately standing in front of you with crossed arms

"Don't talk to her like that." He said firmly as you tried blinking away your surprise - of course he'd seen you and Neteyam together at times, but you'd only spoken to him on a few occasions. Your interactions were short - but sweet. You knew he'd taken a liking to you, but you never believed he was willing to stand up for you like this. You smiled, standing up to match his height as you hissed at Ao'nung's little crowd - the boys immediately moving back and mumbling something as Lo'ak laughed - turning back to you with a proud gleam in his eyes as you merely smiled back

Of course they felt threatened by you - some thought your silence and solitude was something dangerous, but you never felt the need to explain that this was just how you were. Talkative - but not with everyone.

"Familiarizing yourself with the whole family I see." Ao'nung barked as you merely shook your head, a frown on your face as you gently grabbed hold of Lo'ak's shoulder

"Come on, it is ok. We'll leave." You insisted gently

Normally, Lo'ak would've ignored a command like that and barged head first into the argument - but Lo'ak knew his brother - he'd never spend so much of his time with someone who wasn't worth listening to. And he knew you - though very little, you were someone he trusted.

Slowly, he nodded his head, shielding your body from the group with his own as he led you away from the crowd. Unfortunately, Ao'nung's hand found your arm as he tugged you back the second Lo'ak turned his head.

You stumbled back as Ao'nung practically growled at Lo'ak

"Think you can just take every person from this clan to mix with your dirty family?" He snapped, eyes alight as he stared at Lo'ak with nothing but hate - you were trying desperately to pull your arm out of his grasp as he tightened his grip.

"Ao'nung - let go." You pleaded as Lo'ak clenched his jaw, looking towards you and where Ao'nung's hands forcefully held you before shaking his head.

"Sorry, Y/n." Was all Lo'ak said as he moved forward to attack Ao'nung with a fury she believed no one could waver - all until she heard him.

No - no she did not hear him, she simply felt his presence. And his rage was not something to be reckoned with as he split the group apart with a menacing shove - knocking some boys over as they tripped from the force of his push - their yells of surprise were silenced as Neteyam stood in front of Ao'nung.

His lips were pulled back - fangs bared threateningly as Ao'nung's face fell

"Back. Off. Now." Neteyam hissed, standing in front of Y/n and Lo'ak - the younger Sully boy almost cowering behind Neteyam - never had they seen him so... enraged.

Ao'nung scoffed - but remained silent. Looking back and forth between the three in front of him before scowling - turning away, and walking off. His little friends were following the boy's footsteps only moments later - their yells of outrage ignored as Ao'nung merely walked away.

Neteyam turned around, his eyes concerned as he immediately reached for Y/n - his hands holding her shoulders as he looked into her eyes - looking for any sign of hurt or pain -

"Are you ok? Are you hurt?" He questioned - and Lo'ak watched you nod your head, whispering I'm fine repeatedly as Neteyam wrapped his arms around you the momet you confirmed you were ok

"It is fine. We are all fine." She reassured as Neteyam finally looked towards Lo'ak - who only stared back with wide eyes

He'd never seen Neteyam so upset before. And he'd never seen Neteyam so... protective. He'd covered Lo'ak's ass multiple times - but the way he'd approached Ao'nung had Lo'ak's own teeth clattering, feared for Ao'nung's safety - but sickeningly pleased by his brother's reaction.

"Thanks bro." He managed, giving Lo'ak a gentle smack on the back of his neck as the boy merely swatted his hands away with a laugh

"Don't touch me bro!" He said, a grin on his face which faltered as he turned towards Y/n with a gentleness in his eyes that Neteyam had not seen before.

"You ok?" He asked as Y/n smiled - moving forward and enveloping Lo'ak in her and Neteyam's hug - the trio now standing with arms all around each other as she laughed

"Fine! More than fine. Thank you, Lo'ak." She cooed, gently pinching the boy's cheek. He looked away, his blush evident and bright as he shrugged his shoulders, suddenly shy as he mumbled a quick no worries that had Neteyam laughing - this time, Y/n being the one to gently swat the back of Neteyam's neck for teasing the younger Sully boy.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

You were laying on the sand - the moonlight shining on you and outlining your figure.

He stood only a few meters away - his hands clutching the necklace in his hands as he watched you with the same nervousness fluttering in his chest.

Your head was tipped towards the sky - lips pulled into a content and peaceful smile - something he wished to never disturb.

And he wouldn't - but his favorite eyes peaked open, immediately catching him.

You never failed to feel his presence.

He laid down next to you, and you shifted your body to lay closer to him. His gift was tucked underneath the palm of his hand as the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filled the quiet.

He rested his head against yours, and you leaned your body into his as he gently grabbed your hand, moving your fingers and pointing them towards the sky.

"You know, my dad came from a star."

You listened quietly, your hand squeezing his and giving him the reassurance he needed to continue.

"That one - right there." He whispered, pointing towards the gleaming light as you followed where he’d moved your hand - staring at the faraway star he pointed to with a faint smile

"I have a feeling you are about to tell me something important." You whispered, and he looked back at you - stared right into those beautiful eyes as he grinned

"You know everything about me - but this, this is something I have not told you yet." He whispered back, sitting up as you followed his movements

"My dad tells me all the time about his love for my mother - I was talking to him yesterday about how he knew he loved her." He started, eyes gentle as his hands held the necklace behind his back - fingers running over the engravings he'd spent hours carving as you looked at him with the same curious glint in your eyes that he loved to see

"He said he did not know - he was spending too much time with her to notice how badly he had fallen in love. But - when he did realize, he said it was like her filling a hole in his heart he didn't even know he had." He breathed out - and you could feel your own heartbeat quicken as he moved his hands from behind his back to reveal the most beautiful necklace you would ever see.

"Y/n - you and I, we are made for each other. I know this. I feel it everyday - " He spoke - his voice breaking as he looked at you, tears brimming as you tried to calm yourself by taking a few breaths

"Be my mate, yawne." He whispered, his smile so bright and beautiful as you finally sobbed

"Neteyam - yes. Yes yes yes!"

He put the necklace around your neck - a courting gift - his finger tracing over your stripes as he clasped it - securing it before moving his hands to cradle your face.

He kissed you - sweet lips meeting yours.

"My sweet girl."

[beaulesbian]

ONE PIECE ep. 1115 || Bepo saving Law

Trust them, Captain! From the extremely cold port of the north till now, we've always survived! So none of us will die here! We've overcome so much together! So, Captain! Don't die! Please, don't die!

+ manga ch. 1081

[letstalkaboutshtufff]

Never a Burden Part 2

Neteyam x reader

Pairing: Neteyam x Reader Mate

Warnings: Mentions of injury, mild blood, kinda 18+ at the end.

Previous chapter

****************************************************

You waited for what felt like hours for your mate to return.

As soon as he walked through the entrance you shot up on your feet.

He released a sigh when he saw you and raised his arms out to you.

You immediately ran into his embrace hugging him tightly.

Seconds later you were pulling away to look him up and down. Your breath caught seeing his bleeding knuckles.

“Teyam…”

“It is nothing love, don’t be sad” he pulled you close again releasing a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry Neteyam…” you murmured into his chest.

“Shh don’t apologize.” He kissed your head and pulled you to sit down on his lap by the fire.

“Lemme get some salve for your hand-“ you attempted to stand but he pulled you back down with a click of his tongue.

“Leave it, it’s nothing..”

“…Neteyam… what did you do?” Fear was evident in your voice.

“I showed him what happens when someone messes with my family…” his tone was bitter.

Panic was clear as day on your face but Neteyam was quick to dispel your worries, “Don’t worry he’s not dead, as much as I wanted to kill him, I did not.”

“But he won’t be able to join us on raids anytime soon…” he muttered.

“W-wha, what did you do??”

Made his face look like a bowl of purple berries, Broke his arm for touching you, gave him a much worse bruise on his stomach, shoved him in the river and held his head down a little too long…

“Just roughed him a bit don’t worry..”

“But you just said he wouldn’t be able to-“

He shut you up with an abrupt kiss. It was slow and sweet, that is until he bit you.

“Ow what was that for.” You pouted and pulled back.

“For not telling me the moment someone was bothering you.”

“But Teyam-“

“No buts”. His eyes were stern.

“Since when do we hide things from each other hm?” You looked down feeling shame.

“I…I didn’t want to but I didn’t want to burden you with this Neteyam…” he sighed loudly.

“It’s never a burden, you’re never a burden…” he made sure you were looking in his eyes.

They held nothing but the truth. You weren’t a burden.

“Promise you’ll never hide something like this from me again.”

You nodded, “I promise”.

He kissed you again, “good”.

“How is your wound?” He readjusted you to look at your stomach.

“It’s alright, it looks worse than it is..”

You could read the emotions on his face, bearing himself up that he couldn’t protect you.

“Don’t Neteyam, don’t- I’m alright. I promise. It’s nobody’s fault except them.. and thanks to you I don’t think they’ll be bothering me anytime soon…” you kissed his bruised knuckles.

He smiled warmly but then suddenly furrowed his brows, “Wait they? What do you mean “they””.

You blinked up innocently, “didn’t I mention his friends…?”

Neteyam scoffed in exasperation, “No you did not mention his friends!”

“Ok ok calm down, they didn’t do anything just called me some names, Tu’Mey was the only one who hurt me-Ow Neteyam!” You pouted bringing a hand to your freshly flicked forehead.

“What did you just promise woman!”

“I-It it doesn’t count, I forgot about them, I wasn’t hiding it!”

“You-” you interrupted him this time with a kiss.

He let out the millionth sigh of the night.

“What am I going to do with you hm?” He said fondly.

“You’re the one who chose me Neteyam” you grinned.

“Yeah I did…”

“Do you regret it…?”

“Never” he smirked pulling you in for a much deeper kiss than before.

“I think I know how to keep you out of trouble…”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” You shivered when he nibbled on your ear.

“I’ll wear you out until you can’t move, you can’t cause trouble if you can’t walk..”

Eywa help you..

**************************************************

Short but sweet conclusion! Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading🥰

[taxus-fraud]

My opponent just called upon the Oracles and scattered most of my pieces across space and time. Does anyone know the best counter in this situation?

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 10

Danny groaned, blearily raising his head from the nest of blankets and pillows he had made in his apartment. He had smelled something strange.

Something strong enough to wake him from his sleep. Danny got up and stumbled to the front door, cursing his luck for getting a fever so soon into his interdimentional road trip.

Peering out of his open doorway he saw a little kid shivering in the cold, badly hidden behind two trash cans in the mouth of an alley. Danny didn't think twice. In fact he didn't think at all. It wasn't uncommon for an Omega to smell a child who didn't have the scent of another Omega on them and immediately claim that child as thier own, and seeing as his home dimension had exclusively Omegas...let's just say there's a lot of drama in family court and a lot of laws pertaining to this.

So of course the next thing Danny knows is that the kid was bundled up inside his very soft and comfy makeshift nest before Danny passed out.

For the next week Danny had this mysterious fever and he acted like a parent on autopilot, barely conscious as he instinctually cared for the little boy. He made them food and cut them up into tiny bits to feed his baby and if it was handfoods like pizza rolls or sandwich triangles, Danny would hold him in his arms and rock his back and forth, humming softly as his child ate.

Eventually his heat ended (note that omegas from his world don't have heats, they don't have alphas and so they don't even know what a heat is) and Danny was very surprised he has a child in his house. But he and the baby are very emotionally attached to one another. When Danny asked what the little kids name was (and man this kid was little) the kid stared at him in the way little kids do before muttering the world "Clone" followed by what sounded suspiciously like a serial number.

Danny decided, nah. His kid now. Sucks to be the bioparent cause Danny doesn't wanna share.

Somewhere in the city, the bats were freaking out. They had raided a lab and discovered not only had one of them been cloned, but the clone had escaped and no one knew where it was. Cue panicked parental frenzy.

[gl-saveme]

jealously stewing and ignoring your feelings for your best friend in the lesbian bathtub 😤🛁

Grace Budsarin as Genlong in Mate Ep 3 Sonya Saranphat as Pleng in Affair Ep2

[zepskies]

Against the Wind - Part 2

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader 

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Thank you guys so much for all the amazing feedback on Part 1! Now, most of your theories and questions will be answered...

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, and peril, the other kind of "hunting."

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 2: Seems Like Yesterday

“I’ll raise you 25,” you say, tossing five chocolate covered pretzels into the middle pile. It’s a risky bet, considering how much you lost in the last hand. Dean regards you with an amused, if critical eye while he holds his cards.

“Ooh, you’re bluffing,” he says. You pop your brows at him, a subtle smile tugging at your lips.

“You want to test that theory? Put your money where your mouth is,” you challenge.

He tilts his head at you with a raise of his own brows.

“Cheeky omega,” he mutters. His attention returns to his cards as he deliberates on his next move.

You attempt to be nonchalant as you glance down at your cards again. It’s a shitty hand, but he doesn’t need to know that. The alpha’s won the last two hands of Texas Hold ‘Em, but you did win the first one. Though you suspect he let you win.

You want to at least even the score before he resumes his work out in the shed. He spends most of his time there during the day, or making sure the firewood is stocked. It seems like he takes any excuse not to spend too much time in your presence.

More than anything, you want to ask him if he feels what you feel—the same tug in the pit of your stomach every time he’s nearby. You just haven’t found a way to broach that with him.

Hey, I know we just met like two minutes ago, but I think we’re supposed to be together. Do you feel it too?

You nearly roll your eyes at yourself. Yeah, that’ll go over well.

So you have to be content with mornings like this and in the evenings, where he lets you put on one of his records, and you two share dinner together, maybe another round of cards. Or you’ll read a book while lounging on the chaise, and he lays out on the couch, listening to his music with his eyes closed. You like watching him like that, with a relaxed, damn near peaceful set to his face.

Too often he holds that harder, stoic expression, or that divot between his brows that makes you want to soothe two of your fingers there; or better yet, lean in and press your lips—

“It’s your move,” Dean reminds you. He’s finally played his hand, but you were too distracted to hear what he said.

“What’d you do?” you ask, surveying the piles of cards.

“Call,” he repeats, popping a few pretzels into his mouth. He washes it down with beer and more barbeque chips. Those are worth $10 in this little fantasy betting. He points a finger towards you with the same hand that holds his beer, teasing, “You got all the lights on in there? Or am I boring you?”

You glance up at him, fighting a smile. “All right, keep your pants on. Let me see…”

As the dealer, he’s already turned over the River: the last card in the hand. It’s a 10 of Clubs, which means your One Pair is actually a Two Pair. It’s still not a great hand, but it’s decent enough to maybe let you get the best of your opponent.

After you go “all in,” Dean’s lips twitch at a smile, and he humors you, going all in as well. You’re on tenterhooks when he finally reveals his hand.

“Ooh, it ain’t a cheesy ‘90s sitcom, but it’s still…a Full House,” he brags as he lays out each card in a smooth line of overlapping cards, the mix of glossy red diamonds and black spades showing the truth. He won again.

You huff in defeat, your shoulders sinking in your seat at the kitchen table. You turn over your measly hand. Sweeping the winnings toward himself (a mound of chocolate covered pretzels, a stack of barbecue chips, and a handful of Oreos), Dean chuckles and tosses you a wink.

“Ah, don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart. I’ve been hustlin’ poker for a long time. Hell, I’ve been playing this game before I even knew my times tables,” he says as he collects the cards.

“That young?” you reply. “Who taught you?”

“My dad,” he says. “Oh, believe me, I used to get my ass kicked many a’ time, but by the time I turned sixteen, I was hustlin’ grown ass men in skeevy bars out of their daily paycheck.”

“You were hanging out in bars at sixteen?” you ask incredulously. There, Dean seems to realize he’s said too much. He becomes more guarded as he puts away the deck and cleans the crumbs off the table.

“My dad was always working. You could say I didn’t really have a curfew,” he says.

“A latchkey kid, huh?” you reply, hiding the way you’re trying so hard to glean any more hints of truth between his words.

“Heh, yeah.” He gets up from the table and tosses the breakfast dishes in the sink, then travels to the front door to don his jacket and boots.

“All right, I’ll be out back,” he says.

Out back, code for out in the shed. You nod, and in a flash, he’s shutting the door behind him.

You’ve learned another small tidbit about him, one that feels more important than it seems on the surface. And yet, it only elicits more questions you doubt he’ll be willing to answer so easily. He’s more than tight-lipped about his past, only giving vague outlines and general pictures.

Even his stories—like being raised up in a family of traveling mechanics, putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo when he was a kid, or the guy’s serious fear of clowns—feel like they’re missing some key details.

You decide to take up your crutches and head for your room. There you unearth the journal from its hiding place under your pillow. This time, you turn to the very beginning. Before all the jargon about mythology (and an odd footnote about a “Turducken Slammer”), there are actual journal entries. The first one dates back to November 6, 1983. The first line already captures your attention.

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don’t believe it. Last week we were a normal family…eating dinner, going to Dean’s T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy. But in an instant, it all changed… When I try to think back, get it all straight in my head…I feel like I’m going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out. I’m wandering around, alone and lost and I can’t do anything.

This is Dean’s father, you realize. The more that you read, with no small amount of dismay, you also realize that this man is writing about his wife, Mary.

Dean’s mom…

He writes about their house burning with all their memories inside, along with Mary. Somehow, he saw her pinned bloody to the ceiling.

Along with these pages is a clipping from a news story:

House Fire Kills Mother of Two

Lawrence, Kansas.

You’re spellbound by it all. You keep reading.

November 13, 1983

…Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe—the safe with Mary’s old diaries, the boys’ savings bonds, what little jewelry we had…all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

The police don’t believe his story, about how she died before the fire, about what he saw. So he tries to convince himself that what he saw wasn’t real. Still, he can’t find rest, and he worries about his sons’ safety.

December 4, 1983

I haven’t let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side—or from his brother.

Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he’s trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his mom. I don’t know how to stop it, and part of me doesn’t want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won’t remember her at all.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a droplet lands on the page. You quickly wipe it away before it becomes a stain, and you dry it all the way with your breath before you move on to the next page, sniffling. Your heart hurts, even as your guilt grows. You know now that you’re really, truly invading Dean’s privacy by reading his father’s words. You just can’t stop yourself from turning the next page.

John becomes convinced that someone, or something, started the fire that destroyed his life and took his wife away from him and his sons. He leaves his job and the remnants of that world behind, to venture deeper into the darker one. But in that darkness, he finds truth.

He visits a psychic, Missouri, who leads him back to his house and senses the echoes of an evil presence—something that shakes her to the core, and John too: the creature that killed his wife.

December 20

…She told me that it was the most powerful, awful thing she’s ever come across.

On January 1, 1984, John makes a New Year’s resolution. He determines to find the answers himself.

A shiver runs down your spine. In John’s words, your heart breaks for Dean, but you also see yourself. You try not to think about why.

You keep flipping through the rest of the journal past January. There are translations of a Latin exorcism, and like you read before, strange drawing of evil looking creatures—as well as what they are, scraps of their history, and how to kill them.

Silver bullet to the heart, can’t withstand iron, salt and burn.

You pause on a certain page, more filled with lore than the rest, and a primitive drawing in the center.

WENDIGO

Cree: Evil that devours.

Wood spirit. Eats live flesh. Lives in forests.

Perfect hunter.

Your breath stills in your lungs as a cold sweat forms across your skin. The more you read, the faster your heart beats.

The crunch of dead leaves. Your father shouting at you to run, and keep running.

The coarse shout of a bear morphs into something other. It’s a sharper, whirring sound like wind howling amidst animalistic clicking, and then bones breaking—your father’s scream cut short. You turn around with your rifle in hand, poised to shoot blindly.

Your stomach churns as bile rises into your throat. You feel sick, and wrong, and you suddenly have the urge to throw the journal against the wall.

“Omega?” calls Dean’s sharp voice. “You okay?”

You jolt badly at the sudden noise. You didn’t hear him reenter the house. He likely caught the scent of your distress. He pushes the door of your room open to find you, but he stops short in the doorway. His surprise quickly morphs into a frown when he notices what you’re holding in your lap.

You gasp, freezing where you sit, but there’s no point in trying to cover up what you’ve done. With an angry purse of his lips, he reaches over and takes the journal from your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with this?” he demands.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I just—” You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I was just curious. I wanted to know more about you. I thought it was…a normal journal.”

“So this is how you go about it, huh? Got everything you wanted, Columbo?” he says, his sarcasm cutting into you. He flips through the journal to make sure all the pages are intact before he tucks the journal under his arm. “Seriously, going into somebody’s stuff? Who the hell raised you?”

At that, you begin to bristle.

“My dad,” you snap back. Though remembering the passages you’ve lived with for the past few hours, you soften with a painful twinge of sympathy in your heart. 

“And it looks like yours raised you to be some kind of…well, what are you, a ghostbuster or something?” you ask.

His jaw locks. “Or something.” 

With an exasperated sigh at his hedging, you swing your legs around the edge of the bed and haul yourself up with your crutches so you can at least match his stance (more or less).

“Dean, please, just talk to me,” you implore, gesturing at the journal tucked under his arm. “The things I read—”

“Are none of your goddamn business!” he growls, making the omega inside you cringe. The alpha’s voice is deep and sharp, and even though he isn’t crowding you, his height and broadness are still intimidating.

“The sooner you heal up, the sooner I can ship you back to where you belong,” he says. “Back to your life, so you can stop sticking your nose into mine.” 

Your mouth actually falls open in shock. His vehement words feel almost as powerful as a physical blow, if to your soul. They make your arms tremble while holding yourself upright on your crutches. Hot tears well up in your eyes, though you try to blink them away. After a moment, you’re able to collect yourself enough to speak.

“I’m sorry for going through your stuff,” you say, in a quiet voice.

You hobble awkwardly past him out of the room. You don’t stop until you reach the front door, where your snow boots are. You manage to get them on by yourself so you can go outside and get some fresh air, not to mention some much needed distance from the alpha’s burning presence. You can still feel him trailing behind you. You hear his heavy boots.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grits out.

You hobble faster.

Dean watches you go out the door without a word in irritation, even though it triggers an alarm deep in his gut every time you leave the safety of the cabin. 

The snow depth has lightened somewhat since the storm, but it’s still not easy to navigate on your crutches. You get some distance from the cabin, mindful not to go too far. You know you’re limited, and you didn’t even take a gun with you.

Finding a solid tree to lean on, you rest there and try in vain to stifle your tears. You know you were wrong for snooping, and he had a right to be mad, but did he really have to be such a freakin’ bear? 

Fucking alphas. I swear.

You thought you were starting to connect with him, but clearly, Dean wants nothing to do with you. He wants you out of his life. 

Does he not feel the same pull you feel to him? Does he really not realize…that he’s meant to be your mate?

You take in a shaky breath through your nose. If he does, apparently he doesn’t care.

Just then, you hear the crunch of snow nearby. Twigs snapping.

Your body stiffens with a terrible memory—of that day in the woods. Your breath comes out in short puffs on the cold air, your eyes wide as you listen closely.

Hearing nothing, you allow yourself to breathe a little easier. You venture a few paces forward and to the right, but you stop shy of how it slopes downward. Some unnamed feeling tells you to look over the edge.

You lean over and cast your gaze down the slope, but all you see is snow and trees down below. With a shaky breath, you lean back and look out to the north again. Plodding along the trail, heading towards you, is a bear.

Oh shit…

You remember Dean mentioning something about a bear passing by his cabin a couple of days before the storm. Looks like he’s back to make his rounds.

His fur is dark; from this distance, you can’t tell if it’s a black bear or a grizzly. It doesn’t make much difference when all you have on your person is a can of bear spray. His gait is massive, unhurried, but he lets out a braying sound when your gaze meets his, as if acknowledging you. He stops there for a moment, assessing. Your body locks up with fear.

The bear groans again, this time sharper. You finally snap out of your reverie and force your body to move slowly backward with your crutches spearing into the snow. The cabin isn’t that far, maybe thirty or forty yards at most. Still, the bear can probably beat you.

Instead of trying to run, you stand your ground and shout at the bear, hoping he’ll back off. Your voice dies in your throat when he rears up on his hind legs, with a loud roar. Trembling, you miss a step and get knocked back into the snow on your ass, your crunches falling out at your sides. You scramble inside your jacket for anything that might help you. 

Bear spray!

You hurry to get the cap off with shaking hands, but before you can even aim, the creature’s heave paws thudding into the ground in front of you—a gunshot rings out and hits the animal in the chest. 

The bear falters, then roars in pain and anger.

Two more shots finally bring it down to an even heavier thud, not far from your feet.

In this moment, these are the things you don’t know about Dean Winchester:

For one, the scent of an omega in distress always calls to an alpha’s protective instincts. But the scent of your abject fear feels like someone tried to rip his lungs out through his stomach.

Second, when he sees you there, your wide, shiny eyes filled with the remnants of panic, yet relief at the sight of him, it takes everything within him not to drop to his knees, grab you by the hair, sink his teeth into your neck and claim you, right there in the snow. Maybe then you’d start listening to him and stop taking your life into your hands.

Instead, his lips purse as he wracks his rifle and slings the strap of it over his shoulder. He stalks toward you and scoops you up, crutches and all. He brings you back to the cabin without a word.

His jaw is once again locked with silence and strain; he doesn’t trust himself to speak until he’s brought you inside and carried you over to the chaise. He sits beside you there and takes an inventory of you with his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks at last.

You manage to meet his gaze and give a little nod.

“Okay. Don’t move,” he says shortly. He gets up and goes to the kitchen, where he grabs a foldable set of knives and a cooler from under the sink.

You watch him in silence, and you realize he’s going back to gut the bear. You didn’t know that he actually hunted out here…well, hunted to eat. He continues to gather items in silence. It gets to a point where you can’t stand it, or his curtness, any longer.

“Thank you,” you say, halting his steps. Dean glances at you over his shoulder, then continues strapping up his supplies. He huffs in response.

“We’re gonna be eatin’ good for a while,” he says without looking at you. 

His attitude both hurts you and aggravates you, so much that you refuse to take it anymore. 

“Look, Dean. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have butted into your life,” you say. Frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Expelling a sharp sigh, you amend yourself. “I’m sorry for invading your privacy. I’m sorry about what you went through, and I’m…I’m sorry about your mom. I’m sorry for today. I’ll just…stay out of your way, and I’ll leave as soon as I can.”

Dean finally turns your way, but your lips tremble as you turn your face away from him and shut your eyes tightly against the salty burn of tears. Deep inside, his heart withers in his chest. He sighs and drops his supplies on the couch. He walks over with those heavy boots, and he sits on the edge of the chaise beside you. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually, he rests a warm, calloused hand on your arm and earns your tearful gaze. 

“I’m sorry. I, uh…shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says. 

You sniff, quickly wiping away your embarrassing tears as they come. Your cheeks are hot with it.

“What is it you wanna know? About me,” he asks, surprising you that much more.

 Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. It takes you some time to think, but the first thing that comes to your mind is…

“Everything in that journal,” you say, licking your dry lips. “Is it real?”

Dean holds your gaze steadily. You know the truth without him having to say it, but he does.

“I was a hunter,” he says. “Those things you read about, I found ‘em. Killed ‘em. It was my job.”

“And now?” you ask, once that large bit of information has time to set into your brain.

His lips tug at a half smile. “Consider me…mostly retired.”

You exhale softly, and you nod. It earns a furrowed look from Dean.

“You don’t seem all that freaked out by this,” he says, with a more scrutinizing gaze on you.

“Should I be?” you say, with an unsteady laugh.

He raises his brows. “In my experience, yeah.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you should even put into words what you’ve been holding onto for months. Like John, no one believed you. Even your own mother had started to look at you like you needed a shrink.

“Omega?” Dean presses. His green eyes are perceptive as they take in the conflicted look on your face. “There something you wanna tell me?”

You deliberate for a moment longer. Then, you release a sigh and glance down at your hands clenching in your lap.

“A few months ago, I lost my dad,” you begin.

Dean nods. “Yeah, you said—”

“I lost him in these woods,” you say.

That quiets the alpha.

You shake your head, and you find your words as the memories that have been haunting your nights return to you.

“Like I said, we used to go hiking here every year…”

AN: Just so you know, all of the journal entries appear in the official "John's Journal" SPN merch. 😉

Next Time:

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name louder, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

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[nnjthndr]

Joels kind of like a shonen mc in wild life especially the finale, where once he declares you part of his "family" you can't hurt him. Not that you can't try to, everybody except gem and grian tried to kill him many many times, it's just when they do they can barely graze him, hell half the time he's not even aware that they're trying to kill him and even when he is he just shrugs it off (there is something deeply wrong with him)

[lxgentlefolkcomic]

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Dialogue transcripts:

Panel 1

Jonathan, writing:  The Captain has been true to his word, though he has offered no answers. Each of us has his own room, small but comfortably furnished. If I did not know better by now than to be swayed by mere courtesy—

Panel 2

Sound effect: Knock knock

Jonathan:  Y-yes?

Voice (offscreen):  Dinner.

Panel 3

Nemo (offscreen): Welcome, gentlemen.

Panel 4

Nemo: I thought I would dine with you tonight, to give you a proper welcome and answer your questions. But first, please, sit.

Panel 5

Nemo: Help yourselves to these dishes, each from the ocean’s bounty! Though I will warn you, this one is rather spicy.

Panel 6

Jonathan: It smells heavenly! I am always eager to try new cuisines.

Panel 7

Nemo: Oh? This dish is prepared with a marine fruit that produces a substance similar to capsaicin. Would you like to know more?

Panel 8

Jonathan: I’m afraid that I would be rather out of my depth with marine biology.

Panel 9

Nemo: Of course, I understand.