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wingedghostpepper · 2 hours ago

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Trapped (yautja x human)

Part 6

[Hope you’re excited for this one cause it’s LONG 🤭 I’d love to know what you think of their dynamic! Your comments are literally the best part of this journey to me 💚]

Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 💚

You pressed a few buttons on the padlock, and the door opened with a loud clunk. The noise echoes, but the lab was still too quiet… so quiet it made your stomach churn. Was it just you and the Yautja left here? Did everyone abandon the place because of this creature’s escape… or did something else take them out?

You couldn’t help but wonder, was this Yautja really the first one to get out? Could another alien have caused the damage? This one didn’t seem affected by human weapons. No bullet wounds, no injuries, aside from some healed slashes that came from the xenomorph. It didn’t add up.

What really happened here?

The silence grated on you. It twisted in your chest, simmering as anger and fear. You walked to the end of the corridor, still stained red… and now green. The Yautja had passed through here before reaching you. It followed you now, not because it needed direction, but because you were moving fast, taking the lead. Surprisingly, it let you.

But your panic grew with every empty hallway. No signs of life. No humans. Your breath caught in your throat tight, like it was being pulled from inside. Where is everyone? Your eyes scanned the vast, vacant facility, but saw nothing.

Are you alone?

Is this the end?

What’s going to happen to you?

Your breath turned shallow, fast… too fast. The air suddenly felt too thick to pull in.

Your vision warped with that awful fish-eye blur, like the corridor was stretching, bending around you. The lights above seemed too bright, flickering at the edges, pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

Your hand shot up to your chest, gripping your shirt like it might stop your ribs from caving in.

It felt like dying.

Are you dying?

Did something get inside you?

Are you infected?

What is happening???

Your knees wobbled, like the floor wasn’t steady anymore. Everything was spinning too fast, too loud and your mind couldn’t keep up.

Then came the sound.

A low, sharp growl pulled your attention.

You turned and saw it.

The Yautja was suddenly in front of you, backing you into a corner. You stumbled until your back hit the wall, your palms gluing on the cold surface behind you, breath hitching, eyes darting for an exit. But there was nowhere to go. It closed the space between you, chest nearly brushing your forehead.

It wasn’t attacking.

You pushed against its scaly chest with whatever strength you had left, but it didn’t move. Instead, it raised one hand slowly and pressed its palm over your mouth.

You shook your head in protest, trying to free yourself, but its grip was firm, strong but not painful. More like another warning. A reminder of who’s in control.

Desperate, you reached up and yanked one of its dreadlocks, instinctively… recklessly. Panic made you stupid, and you realized that a second too late.

The growl deepened. It stepped into you slightly, body stiffening, chest rumbling with something that sounded like a restrained snarl… or maybe even a gasp. You remembered then: their dreadlocks were sensitive. Some kind of organ. You had just touched something you shouldn’t have…

Its free hand shot up and clamped around your wrist, halting you. Its growl wasn’t loud, but it was enough to make your entire body scream danger. It didn’t attack, but it let you know exactly how close you were to pushing too far. It pushed your hand down firmly, like it was teaching you a rule.

Don’t touch the dreadlocks again.

You winced from the grip, your wrist throbbed, but part of you thought maybe you deserved that. Its hand remained over your mouth, eyes locked on yours.

But this wasn’t a power move, you realised. Not really.

Its mandibles clicked softly, and a low purr began to rise from deep in its chest.

With your mouth sealed, your only choice was to breathe through your nose. You met its gaze, trying to read it and you could swear, for a second, its eyes softened. So did its grip. The purr continued, steady, low, rhythmic. A reminder: Breathe.

You nodded faintly, understanding. This thing… it was different. Smarter than you expected. Attuned to you. Maybe it could hear your racing heart, feel your pulse, and every time it purred, it seemed to settle you, almost intentionally.

Your body eased.

The sound was strange, but oddly comforting. You felt yourself go lax. You hadn’t spoken a word, but you and the Yautja had reached some kind of understanding. By cornering you and forcing you to breathe, it had made it clear, it needed you to stay focused.

To help it find its armor.

Only when your heart slowed to normal did it let you go.

You tapped its hand lightly, signaling you were ready. It pulled away, but didn’t move from your space, still cornering you, making sure. Once your breathing evened, it stepped back.

And now, it led the way. No more waiting for you to take the lead. It moved first, fast and confident. You didn’t mind. Honestly, the idea of being in front again was terrifying. Still, it kept checking, behind, ahead, scanning constantly like it expected an ambush.

Then it hit you, it let you walk in front before to keep you in sight…

“I can go first,” you said, unsure if it would even understand.

But before it could react, new sounds emerged, footsteps. Human voices. Guns being readied.

You froze, heart leaping with relief.

Finally. Other people.

But then, your mind turned to the Yautja, already tensing, bracing to fight.

And you thought… this isn’t fair.

Wait… What are you thinking? Not fair?

The Yautja is a threat. It should be restrained.

But it was unarmed. Alone. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.

And in that blur of confusion and instinct, you reached for its wrist and pulled.

It didn’t budge. Didn’t look at you.

“Please,” you whispered, voice cracking.

You didn’t know if it could understand your words, but it seemed to understand your tone this whole time.

“Please, we have to run. They’ll kill you.”

It finally turned, those sharp eyes meeting yours. It must have heard your heartbeat again. Must have known you meant it.

“Put your armor on first,” you added weakly, not sure what side you were on anymore. You were human. But you had made an alliance. And to the Yautja, alliances were sacred. They didn’t back down. They didn’t run.

But this one did.

It ran with you.

You both sprinted away, ducking into the closest lab, the one you called the glass room. Rows of glass chambers lined the corridor, each holding creatures, aliens, specimens meant to be studied.

Or… they used to. Now, many of the chambers were shattered.

Something had been here before you. And it had let them out.

Your breath caught again. This wasn’t over. This was worse than you imagined.

The Yautja scanned the room, then looked at you.

“Its armor is not here,” you whispered to yourself. “We need to keep moving.”

You pointed to the far exit, to the right, where you hoped the armory was still intact.

It followed you, and you both exited cautiously. As you approached the armory door, you saw it, wide open.

Luck? Or a trap?

Before you could decide, the footsteps returned. Closer. Voices.

No time.

You jabbed your finger toward the hallway, barely catching your breath before taking off. The Yautja was already ahead, its stride powerful and effortless, covering in seconds what took you three times the effort.

You reached the armory just behind him, lungs burning, heart pounding. He turned only to make sure you were in before slamming a fist against the control panel. Sparks flew as the padlock gave in with a metallic crunch.

The door sealed behind you with a sharp hiss.

Maybe that would hold. Maybe it would buy you some time.

The Yautja looked around like a kid in a candy store, or rather, a warrior in a sacred temple. Weapons of all kinds, from all over the galaxy. Even you were impressed every time you’ve been here.

Then it saw it, its armor.

It walked toward it, reverent, touching it like it was something holy.

Only then it started to suit up.

You couldn’t do anything but stare intrigued. Its body was massive, so much so that you couldn’t even imagine the scale of its armor.

You tried to look away as the Yautja began putting on its armor. Until now, the only thing covering its body was some sort of loincloth the humans had put on it, and even that was long gone, tossed aside with a casual snatch of its hand.

You begged yourself to avert your gaze, but you couldn’t. As a biologist (and as a human) curiosity had its claws in you. You wanted to look. You wanted to know.

All those times you had studied it, there was never any protocol about reproductive methods. You knew plenty from what you’d studied, but that particular detail was never discussed. You had always wondered. You just never imagined you’d be here, now.

You fidgeted with your fingers, stealing glances at its back, the only side you could see. Your eyes darted toward the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but where you truly wanted to look.

You had seen this creature plenty of times, but this time, it wasn’t just observation. This time, something felt different.

This time it was awake and moving.

Your eyes traced the curve of its back, the way the muscles shifted under that thick, reptilian skin. It was mostly a deep, earthy green, almost blending with the dull tones of the room. Thin, brownish stripes that started at its back and stretched forward across the ribs and chest. They looked natural, yes, but oddly symmetrical.

And then, just as the Yautja slightly moved its head, you saw it.

At the base of its neck, almost hidden beneath the heavy dreadlocks, was a line, a singular, faint marking, different from the others. A muted, bluish tone, barely catching the light. Not random. It was too clean, too deliberate.

You had never noticed that before.

“What is this?” you caught yourself muttering.

You cleared your throat, an actual, anxious reflex.

The Yautja turned. Its body was nearly exposed, save for the abdominal armor it had just placed. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You weren’t sure how you would’ve reacted if you’d seen it completely bare.

This could’ve been a breakthrough.

Maybe it would’ve been terrifying. Maybe just… fascinating.

As hard as it was for you, you looked away now, finally letting it finish dressing.

Since you were in the armoury… maybe it was time to actually equip yourself.

Your hand instinctively went to your pocket—the small container with the salve was still there, thank god. You’d managed to snatch it back in the lab and hadn’t let go of it since.

You started looking around the room, eyes darting between racks and cases. To your surprise, there were all sorts of pouches, different shapes, sizes, even materials, lined up and stored like they were ready to be picked.

Your fingers brushed over a few before you found one that looked like it could work. You strapped it around your waist, worn like a belt, and started loading it with what little you had: the salve, a couple of instruments you always kept tucked in your lab coat, forceps, a data pen, a small scanner. It wasn’t much, but it felt like something.

A small, strange comfort. Like pretending you were prepared.

You turned to look at the Yautja now, its armor, though not heavy or extravagant, somehow made it look even more imposing. Plates covered its chest, arms, and legs, though many vital areas remained exposed. You couldn’t help but wonder, was it for protection, or simply for appearance?

It moved to look for its helmet.

“It’s up there,” you pointed, motioning toward a high shelf in the armory.

You knew it could leap and grab it. Yautja were incredibly strong in the legs, they could launch themselves into the air as if gravity barely applied.

But it didn’t move. Instead, it crossed its arms.

“What? You want me to get it?” you scoffed, half-joking.

Still, it remained still.

“Seriously? Why can’t you just spring up like a grasshopper?” you added, hoping to change its mind.

No reaction.

Was it being serious?

“I’m not climbing for you. What is this? Some kind of test? I’ve proven myself already, haven’t I? I’m a worthy ally!”

You stepped closer, your voice rising with each word, your hands gesturing wildly. When it still didn’t move, you sighed, clicking your tongue in frustration.

You weren’t built for climbing. But apparently, if you wanted its respect, or its help, you had to prove yourself again.

With reluctance, you climbed onto the counter, steadying yourself. You stretched toward the helmet but quickly realized you’d need to go even higher.

“Shit…” you muttered. You weren’t afraid of heights, but this wasn’t exactly your idea of a good time.

The Yautja clicked its mandibles.

“Yeah yeah, I know you’re watching,” you mumbled, annoyed.

You clambered up a shelf, your knees trembling. You took a deep breath, eyes locked on the helmet. You braced yourself and made the final reach.

It was heavier than you expected, your arm dipped with its weight. You gripped the shelf with one hand, clutching the helmet with the other, swinging slightly in mid-air.

A stream of curses spilled from your mouth. You hoped it could somehow understand them.

You thought about dropping the helmet, but you knew that would piss the Yautja off. So you swung your arm and tossed the helmet toward it, praying it’d catch it.

And it did. One-handed. Effortlessly.

“Show off” you said under your breath.

You glared at it as you climbed down, panting.

“Okay? Was that amusing to you?” you snapped.

It didn’t respond. Just stood there, holding the helmet under its arm, watching you pace angrily.

“Tell me I won’t have to do that crap again,” you muttered.

You vented, cursed your luck, questioned every decision that led you to ally with a damn alien. You even pointed a finger at it, until you saw its eyes darken.

Maybe that was a step too far.

“Sorry, okay?” you said, crossing your arms. “I just don’t understand why I had to prove myself again. I’ve been helping you this whole time.”

But then again, Yautja weren’t human. They didn’t know unless you showed them.

You took a deep breath to calm down, feeling your face red hot. It stepped closer now, slowly. Standing in front of you, its stance had changed. Maybe… it was seeing you differently now.

Or maybe that was just your imagination.

“Can you wear your helmet now? I… I want to know…” You hesitated.

What did you want to know?

It clicked its mandibles and let out a growl, one you hadn’t heard before.

“Keth’raal,” it said.

The first word you could clearly distinguish.

It placed a hand over its chest, where a human’s heart would be.

Your breath caught.

Was it introducing itself?

Goosebumps prickled your skin, your eyes slowly widening.

You looked between its hand and its eyes. Its gaze was… calm.

“Kee…thraal?” you tried to say, uncertain.

“Keth’raal,” it repeated, deep and rumbling. Its voice was alien, guttural and rhythmic, the mandibles moving in sync with the sound.

You stared in awe. “Keth’raal,” you repeated softly, like a sacred word.

You almost wanted to touch its hand, for trusting you with its name. But that felt too human, so you held back.

Still… you whispered his name again, in hopes you don’t forget it.

“Keth’raal.”

He purred. It made you wonder if you had pronounced it correctly.

You nodded, a quiet understanding forming between you again.

You opened your mouth to say your name—but a loud knock on the door made you jump.

“Is anybody there?” someone called from the other side.

You didn’t recognize the voice.

Another hard bang - louder, more urgent.

Behind you, the Yautja stirred, tensing. Ready to strike if the door burst open.

You had to move. Now.

You were the only one who knew the truth.

The Yautja shouldn’t be killed — not just because he hadn’t hurt you, but because…

he felt like something more.

A bridge between two worlds.

Before he could react, you ran in front of the door, placing yourself between them. If it opened, they’d see you first.

The door finally swung open.

A man, armed, uniformed, raised his gun. His eyes jumped from you to the creature behind you. Panic lit his face, you couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind.

“No! No, don’t shoot!” You threw your hands up, heart hammering.

The man froze for a breath –stunned by what he saw– then shouted over you. “Move! Move out of the way!”

“Please, he—” you caught yourself, “it’s not hostile!”

“Get out of the way!” he shouted again, voice cracking.

But you didn’t move. You stepped even closer to the Yautja, your arms out as if your body could protect his (it could never).

“Then you shoot me first,” you said, louder than before. “If you want him, you go through me.”

He had saved your life after all. You owed him this much.

Behind you, a low, guttural roar built.

You felt him move, the Yautja surging forward. His helmet clattered to the floor recklessly as he readied a strike.

The man panicked and fired.

You moved before you could think — just enough.

The bullet grazed your arm, burning through flesh. You gasped and dropped, hand clutching the wound.

Pain shot through you. Hot. Sharp. You swore you could taste it in your mouth.

Your vision wavered.

The man hesitated for a second too long.

And that was all it took.

The Yautja lunged, disarming him with brutal ease. One clean strike, a slice of his blade and the man hit the ground, unconscious, bleeding from his arm.

It should’ve ended there, but you saw it in the Yautja’s eyes.

He wanted more.

He wanted to end him.

But then he turned, saw you struggling to breathe through the pain and the anger shifted.

He dropped beside you, eyes focusing on the bleeding spot.

“It stings,” you hissed, blood dripping from your arm. “I need to patch it…”

Before you finished, he’d already torn the hem of your lab coat and wrapped it around your arm. Clumsy, but careful.

“Thank you,” you breathed, as you adjusted the cloth over the wound.

He stared at you —really stared at you— fury still fresh in his eyes. Then turned to the man’s body.

“C’jit,” he growled.

You didn’t know the word, but you could guess.

He wanted to rip out the man’s spine, maybe even use it as a weapon and somehow, you wouldn’t have blamed him.

“Keth’raal.”

You said his name louder now.

He snapped his head toward you like a switch had been flipped.

“We need to leave.”

Your words must have gotten through to him, because his movements slowed—too careful now. He took a long second before he decided to make another nose.

“Na’thek,” he growled softly, this time in a voice so quiet it almost didn’t match the beast he was.

You frowned slightly, curious. “What?”

He placed his palm on his chest. “Keth’raal.”

Then he touched your hand, letting it rest there. “Na’thek.” you distinguished the same word again.

You didn’t know the word, but something in your chest tightened at the sound of it.

A name? A title?

You weren’t sure but… maybe you wanted to find out.

“We need to go,” you whispered, pulling back slowly, still unsure of your exchange.

You stood, wobbling a bit, but steady. He rose with you.

He picked up his helmet from the floor and placed it back on. The moment it clicked into place, something shifted. The same being, but more dangerous now. Sharper.

Lethal.

He looked like a warrior again. No doubt about it.

You caught yourself staring.

You shook your head. No time for this.

Before the two of you could leave the armoury, the Yautja paused.

It turned toward you, then reached to one of the racks and picked up a small weapon, something compact, sleek, alien in design but clearly made for close combat. A dagger, maybe, though it had an odd curve to it, almost like a claw forged in metal.

It held it out to you.

Your heart skipped.

You stared at it, the weight of what that gesture meant settling fast and hard in your chest.

You lifted your hands slightly and gave a quick shake of your head, forcing a small, tight-lipped smile.

“I appreciate it,” you said, voice a little shaky, “but if I carry something like that, I’ll probably hurt myself before anyone else.”

Truth was, just looking at it made your stomach twist. The idea of holding something meant to hurt, meant for violence, it unsettled you in a way nothing else did. You didn’t even want to imagine a moment where you’d need to use it.

The Yautja tilted its head slightly, mandibles flexing once. But it didn’t insist.

Instead, it turned and tucked the blade back into one of the many pouches across its armor. One more piece of silent protection it would carry, for both of you.

You had what you came for, and you needed to disappear before more showed up.

He was ready. Armed and deadly.

But not to you.

You had no idea where you’d go.

You’d think about that later.

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