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yaut-jaknowit · 2 days

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Aboard a communal ship with many different species (lots of humans though) A human fed up with her yautja partner always comparing her to yautja. Gets drunk at the bar and does karaoke to Human by Christina Perri. Prompting all the human at the bar to sing to lol

Am same anon that asked for the mechanic story with the trio of bad bloods. If it's okay with you, my color can be a blue diamond 🔷️

I'm Only Human

Pairings: Zaikeh (Female Yautja) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2986

Summary: With your patience stretched thin, you burst at the seems. That was the last time you could handle being compared to a Yautja. You are human. There's no ifs, ands, or buts about it. So, you take yourself to the nearest bar on the communal ship and drink away your problems. Your only three friends come to cheer you.

Author Note: Welcome back, Blue Diamond! I love your idea with the mechanic! It's been a huge hit. Thank you for nicknaming yourself. I can't wait to see what else you throw at me.

Masterlist

Ao3

Time in, time out. It’s the same thing every day. Despite the very fact you know you aren’t as strong or as mighty or as fit as the weakest of Yautjas, Zaikeh tells you this. Every. Single. Time. Can’t reach a bowl? A Yautja could. Can’t lift a box? A Yautja could. It’s grown old but the pain was fresh everything time she points out the difference.

At first, you tried to bring it to her attention that it wasn’t nice to say that to you. Yes, you know that you are incredibly weaker than her every sense of the word. Females were stronger, more intelligent than their male counterparts. While you are simply not.

The two points didn’t connect in Zaikeh’s mind. Each time, she would brush it off. Feelings and emotions for a Yautja aren’t as well developed compared to humans. They react more on instinct than what they feel. Unless that feeling is mating.

Your feet paused just shy of the front door of your shared quarters. Your hand rests on the door frame as you peeked over your shoulder at Zaikeh. The large, black female Yautja sat in the living room, on the floor. One of her many weapons in her lap, sharpening the blade.

“Hey Zai, I’m going over to A'jiadh’s,” you announced. A’jiadh was part of the trio alongside with Mai’tuiudh. The three of them have settled on this communal ship for the time being. Until an enforcer finds them and sends them on the run again. They’re famous for how well they invade and kill any enforcers their kind sends after them.

The black Yautja picked up her head and cocked her head to the side. “Why are you going over there?” she grunted then returned her attention to the weapon sharpening. Zai was meticulously about her cleaning of both her weapons and armor anytime they get dirtied. A'jiadh lacks this skill. Mai’tuiudh lies closer to Zaikeh than A'jiadh.

You could swear you had told her earlier in the week. “To hang out. He’s going to help me with some language practice and sparring.” While being on the run, it’s best to be prepared. This includes knowing how to fight off an enemy.

If you were to be captured by an enforcer, god only knows what they might do to you once learning you willingly live Bad Bloods.

Zaikeh hummed and inspected the sharpness of her blade. “Any Yautja would know how to fight by your age.” Your nails turn white as they press into the metal door frame. You refrained from speaking the retort that sat bitterly on your tongue. How does she not see the hurt in your eyes at her words?

“Well, I can still learn, can’t I?” The words came out harsher than you were aiming for. The months just building up to a point you couldn’t hold it back anymore. She just huffed and continued to perfect the blade a little more. And that hurt.

Once the first crack in the dam raced up the wall, there was no stopping it from spiderwebbing out.

The first sting of tears crowded your lash line. A lump began to grow in your throat. “I can’t take it anymore!” you shouted and spun on your heels to face who you thought would be the end.

Everyone has a boiling point. Where it spills over the edge and creates a bigger mess in the end.

“Why do you constantly compare me to other Yautjas?! I’m not like them. I’m not a Yautja. I’m not like you!” Tears poured down your face as the first of your sobs broke free. The dam crumbling in your hands, far too late to stop it. The water gushing and taking you within its storm. “I’m human. I don’t think you’ve realized this yet.”

All the pain in your voice was evident.

She raised her head in surprised when you first yelled at the top of your lungs. Your voice echoing back at you in the limited space. Her forest green eyes were focused on you now. Not missing the way you cried with a flare of anger and sorrow filling your scent.

“I’m only human, Zai,” you whimpered and drew back into yourself. Defeat washed over you. It weighed down your shoulders as you looked upon your mate with hurt. “I’m only human.”

Then, you about faced and scrambled out of your shared quarters. This life will never be the same afterwards. She’ll come after you in a bit, letting you calm down from your outburst. First though, before you could allow for that to happen, you were going to skip A’jiadh’s and head to the nearest bar. You needed something to wash down the pain of the afternoon.

Though the alien words rolled over your head, you could understand the country feeling it gave. Species of all different kinds mingled both at booths and tables and on the dance floor. You, on the other hand, found roost on the darkest corner, place to sulk. A heavy, strong drink resting on the wooden table before you.

Condensation builds up on the glass, creating a ring on the coaster. You picked up the drink and took a mouth of the throat burning liquid. A buzz was beginning to build up by this point. It wasn’t to the degree you wouldn’t remember the next morning, but you’re steps wouldn’t the straightest. So, you stayed hold up in the corner, drinking away your reoccurring issues. One who was too oblivious to see the issues before her very eyes.

If you could, you would slap the Yautja silly. Maybe knock some sense into her with the way she’s been acting as of late. It’s only gotten worse. You don’t know if the other two had something to do about it. But, they seemed to endure your presences at least. Why else would A’jiadh invite you over to spar and whatnot.

Said Yautja must be confused on why you hadn’t shown up. Oh well. He’ll shoot a message over to Zai and she can be the one to explain her misdeeds.

You used the back of your hand to wipe the evidence of fresh tears away, gone from sight. Just in time too.

Three bodies slid into the booth before you. People you know. As much as you wished to pull a smile on your face, the alcohol and sorrow that filled your veins prevented that. You kept a blank expression on your features and just stared at the dark wood.

“Uh oh, trouble in paradise,” one of the aliens teased and nudged you with her elbow. You held your tongue and just lightly shrugged, uncaring of any of their words.

On the other side of the table, one of them ‘oo’ed and gave Vincy a look. “She’s truly in trouble if she’s pouting this bad,” Cog snickered then sat back in the booth, arms thrown over the back of the couch. Lestgawnt, the only one not to poke at you, butted his foot against your ankle. You only drew your limbs into your torso and turned to face the wall.

The group silenced themselves. Vincy placed her hand on your shoulder. “Hey, what’s wrong? What happened? Is Zaikeh still comparing you to her species?” she questioned with a softer tone time around. You sniffled and rubbed at your running rose with the back of your hand before nodding timidly.

Cog huffed and shook her head. “I can’t believe her! Does she not see you’re not a Yautja. I sweat, Yautjas are so full of themselves!” she muttered mostly to herself then leveled her gaze on you. “You know you are more than welcome to stay with one of us and get away from her. Clearly she doesn’t appreciate you the way you deserve.”

That tugged a smile onto your lips. You appreciated her. All them actually. Living with three aliens that knew little about humans was difficult. Until they landed here. There may not be many humans here but the two you found were great. Then there was Lest, a Jakor. He was cool to hang around with.

You glanced at each of them. All of their eyes were on you, even Lest’s. “Thanks but no thank you. I-I don’t want to leave her. I just need to get her to understand this comparison hurts me. Yautjas… they’re fucking stubborn.” Your curse and true words brought upon laughter amongst the table.

“I don’t know why you don’t just leave her ass. There are plenty of options around here. Like…” Vincy leaned on the table with her elbows and pointed into the crowd. “Like her. Damn, I want a piece of that.” More laughter bolstered into the air. You followed her finger to find a random alien that you didn’t even know the name of. Yes, she was attractive but Zaikeh had your heart.

Everything else about her was fine. She protected you, clothed you, sparred gingerly with you, taught you things you never thought were in existence. This was just the one thing she slacked on. You downed the rest of your drink and slammed it down on the table.

Your eyes met Cog on the other side of the table. “Let’s dance or sing. I need to get off of my ass. I need to get her off of my mind.” You couldn’t just sit in this corner for the rest of the night before you had retire back to your shared quarters. And face the Yautja after storming off. You dragged a hand over your features at the thought then shooed Vincy from your side.

The woman scooted out and offered your hand which you gladly took. She hauled you out of the booth and up onto your feet within the span of a couple of seconds. Lest and Cog moved out as well and guided you towards the dance floor packed with other bodies.

Vincy gave you a goofy look before rocking with the beat of the music. You couldn’t the small giggle that broke your tense shoulders.

With the alcohol in your system working its magic, you began to dance out your heart. Everything that’s been weighing on you as of late started wash off of you. It was relaxing to feel all your troubles just leave. You laugh and giggled and danced alongside your three friends.

From being on the run with a trio of Bad Bloods to cultural differences between you and Zai, to dance away the night was what you been needing. All it took was a few cups of alcohol to get you dancing. To feel the beat of the music draw you in and let the worries of your life wash away. You couldn’t help giggling every so often and bumping into any of your friends. Your steps are a little wobbly.

A couple of more drinks down the hatch had you standing on the only stage in the bar. One of your arms is slung over Vincy’ shoulder as she keep you standing. A microphone like device held in your hands as you sung out your heart.

Out of the billions of songs they had, you found the one you needed to let loose your frustrations.

Human by Christina Perri.

The lyrics appear upon a transparent screen but you didn’t need them. Not when it was sung from the depths of your heart. This song was heavily connected to your life at this very moment. It was fate to find this song when all your troubles began.

Eyes of many watched as the words, the lyrics poured from your lips like a waterfall. Every word pronounced with all the hurt you’ve had building up.

Tears sting your eyes, on the verge of crying in front of the crowd. Yet, you were in your own world. The music and alcohol working its magic on you. It loosened up your tense emotions, letting you be free.

When the first tear rolled down your face, you opened your eyes when you felt a familiar stare. Instantly, your gaze darted to the entrance to find Zaikeh, standing there, a little out of breath. Her stance was tense, eyes pinned onto your trembling frame held up by Vincy. Her mandibles drew in tight to her face as she straightened her posture and watched the door.

“But I’m only human,” you sun directly in the microphone, hoping the words finally hit Zaikeh in the heart. Anything to get it through her thick skull that her comparison is hurting rather than helping. There’s nothing you could do to change yourself into what she wants.

“And I bleed when I fall down. I’m only human.” These lyrics meant a lot to you. It was not just the song but words you meant deep down. You can only be, do so much until you hit your limitations. The brick wall you couldn’t get passed or it would kill you.

You cried, shoulders sobbing and shaking. Vincy held you tighter, afraid you were going to topple over at the slightest breeze. “And I crash and I break down. Your words in my head, knives in my heart. You build me up and then I fall apart. ‘Cause I’m only human.” Zaikeh kept her eyes locked onto your form, watching as every tear fell and stained not only your cheeks but the metal floors as well.

The Yautja was glued to her spot and could only see the pain in your face as the words hit her. Vincy pulled you into a straighter position and off the stage as the song ended. You buried your face into her shoulder, body shaking with each heartbroken sob. Each one striking the black female straight into her heart.

Instantly, she was pushing her way through the crowd towards the group. Some of the members glared up at the Yautja only to realize who and what she is and backed off.

As she moved towards you, Lest and Cog saw the incoming danger and put themselves between you and Zaikeh. A scowl on each other faces. Cog crossed her arms and was ready to face down Zaikeh if it came down to that. Vincy kept tugging at you waist to get you away from the trouble about to rise. You latched onto her and stumbled with each step to keep up.

The human and Jakor didn’t stand a chance against Zaikeh and shoved the two of them out of her way. Cog slammed into another person while Lest was knocked into a wall. Vincy was the only one that stood in her pathing. She marched up to her, ready to pull you from the human. Vincy shoved you behind her and bared her teeth up at the Yautja in aggression.

“You aren’t allowed to see her! You fucked up and aren’t allowed to be around her,” Vincy snarled and pointed an challenging finger up at her. Zaikeh just stared down at this girl who barely reached her waist. She quiet literally grabbed Vincy by the head and picked her up.

Vincy screamed a war cry and swung and kicked at the Yautja, looking like a kitten trying to fight its mother. Zai simply dropped her off to the side then roared straight into the human’s face. The brown haired woman froze, stunned at the loudest of her roar.

This silence the rest of the bar. Everyone’s eyes on the two of you now. You picked up your head and found Zai’s attention had returned to you. She crowded your space and pushed you against the nearest wall. Your hands were grabbed and pinned to the hard surface she trapped you to. It was pointless to even attempt to fight this massive beast who owned your heart.

A whined built up in the back of your throat. A new fresh set of tears falling down your cheeks. You hiccupped, head tilted all the way back to expose your throat to her without meaning to. The alcohol in your system doing wonders.

It was heavy on your breath. Zaikeh could smell it. A huff sounded from the lumber giant. She reached down and easily tossed you onto her shoulder. On her heel, she spun around and marched out of the bar, not giving your three friends a look.

Not like any of them could do a thing to save you from your mate.

In the confides of your room, she set you down on the cool tile. At this point, you come to realize that this wasn’t your shared bedroom. This is your space on their ship. What was going on? There’s A’jiadh and Mai’tuiudh too. With all of their stuff packed up. You whined and clutched onto the arm Zaikeh offered you. Otherwise you would’ve been head over heels in the worst way possible.

“What’s… what’s happenin’?” you slurred, wobbling a little. There wasn’t a clear thought in your mind right now.

The Yautja looked down at you and held you to her thigh. “We are leaving,” she answered. A’jiadh and Mai were moving supplies into the ship. A human sounded from you.

“Oh, nice.” It didn’t register inside of your brain what was happening or what that meant. You were in your own la-la land, happy as can be. She must have realized this and huffed before carrying you into your original bed. It felt like heavy to lay on.

She tucks in the blankets tightly to your body. A waterskin was set off to the side, within reach. You hummed and tried to reach up towards her. Something inside of you felt angry towards her but you couldn’t place your drunk finger on it.

A soft kiss was placed to your forehead. You were out like a light. A morning full of fun surprises were going to meet you the next time you woke up. One including a raging hangover.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #Zaikeh

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sepublic · 2 days

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Continuing my ramblings on Predator (1987), there's an interesting choice of cinematography when the protagonists start fighting back against their titular antagonist; Once Anna explains the Predator's schtick as a chameleon, our heroes begin making new traps meant to fool the Predator. And as they do, there's some pretty choice shots emphasizing the bulging muscles of characters like Dillon and the like. Dillon is interesting especially given he's framed as the least masculine of the guys due to being a dishonest pencil-pusher; Here, it seems as if everyone, even Dillon, is reclaiming their masculinity with this chance to fight back. With this chance to turn back the odds and restore their conventional status as action heroes.....

And then we know how it all goes down; The Predator breaks free of the trap, and kills its last four victims of the film to leave only Dutch and Anna. The Predator as a dark reflection of the characters' machismo makes more sense when you consider how he can mimic the voices of the others, and the wound that puts him down is identical to that of his final victim Poncho; Both are felled by a log trap.

From the perspective of the Predator, other characters' voices become noticeable high-pitched; I wonder if this is, in a way, meant to show how even a badass like Dutch is 'feminized' in the eyes of the Yautja. The line between Predator and the protagonists is further blurred when Dutch achieves his own form of cloaking that is also sabotaged when he comes into contact with water; He learns to fight more like the Predator, relying on stealth, ambush, and the environment around him to hide and attack. So now the Predator becomes the hunted too. Its final words are to repeat Dutch's only lines back at him before laughing in Billy's hearty voice.

You know that one post circulating around here, where people joke about what if the Predator was more the exception to his home's culture, rather than the norm? What if he was the Yautja equivalent to bored middle-class dudes who decide to go on a hunting trip for fun, to collect trophies from lions and other animals that are otherwise harmless and victimized, to flex how 'badass' he is? And meanwhile everyone else back home is rolling their eyes because what a loser. What if that's really just what the Predator is meant to symbolize, in the context of the original film at least; People who like to kill and hunt to show off how masculine they are.

But in the end, it's quite easy and cowardly, arguably, to rely on a cloaking device, whilst sniping oblivious targets from afar. Beforehand, I wonder if we could take into account how animals are treated by the human protagonists beforehand; One of the characters kicking a bird aside, Mac stabbing a scorpion. Them flexing their macho attitudes by killing an animal that for all intents and purposes is pretty helpless against the one who gets it. And then the roles are reversed where the human protagonists become the game for the Predator to make trophies out of.

I find it fascinating Dutch's reaction when Mac admits that Blain was his friend; You get the sense that this is quite uncharacteristic a thing for Mac to do. Nowadays it seems like a pretty obvious and understandable thing for any guy to do, but for someone like Mac, it IS quite the confession of emotional vulnerability here. Plus there's Poncho being a sad sopping wet cat for the rest of the film, once Hawkins is the first to die.

If Predator is a slasher film, then it subscribes to its own version of the rules, just as it has its own version of a 'final girl' in muscled badass Dutch, played by Arnold Schwarzenegger. You know how those who have premarital sex die first? It seems Predator operates on similar rules; Hawkins makes crude jokes about female genitalia and is killed first. Blain calls everyone else the f-slur and proclaims his own sexual prowess, in addition to being your typical badass macho man who's too tough to feel pain, and then he's unceremoniously killed off pretty early too. This is despite, or rather because of, being the "big guy" who wields a giant mini-gun.

Mac and Billy are stoic, but Mac unravels psychologically and sings lyrics about objectifying a woman shortly before his death, and Billy remains rattled throughout by the Predator's presence, even openly admitting to Poncho that he's afraid. And of course there's Poncho, who is on the verge of tears 24/7 once the movie's genre shifts, voice constantly wavering.

On a final note, one could be half-joking about homoerotic undertones between Mac and Blain, at least on Mac’s end. Which could be an interesting discussion in and of itself when you also account for Blain’s use of the f-slur and how he’s the most stereotypically masculine of the group. Because I know the military is known for being a place where homosexuality was often discovered and explored. How would that factor into the larger themes of masculinity in this film, I wonder?

#predator 1987 #yautja #predator #analysis #mac eliot #al dillon #jorge poncho ramirez #blain cooper #rick hawkins #billy sole

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marcus--666 · 3 days

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here's how thwe'ku lost her left arm: a yautja was pissed a female rejected him, so he attempted to kill the suckling but Thwe'ku was the one in charge of the babies that day, and after she got her arm blown off protecting the baby, she took her combi-stick and just shoved it into the stump to keep fighting the now bad blood

My babe Thwe'ku, I love her so much she's so badass

#oc: thwe'ku #yautja #predator #yautja oc #predator oc #original character #oc #gore #cw gore #ask to tag

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devileaterjaek · 3 days

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#gaming #capcom #predator #yautja #alien vs predator

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vampylovesaliens · 13 hours

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Vox'urn is a proud huntress of a primarily seafaring clan, but they share their world with another species with whom they often clash. Things have recently gotten more hostile, and so I felt like drawing Vox facing off with one of their most skilled warriors.

(his name is Maal'lekstruk'm >w>)

#my ocs #alien #yautja #predator #shark #creature #Vox'urn

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cncleric · 2 days

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Clamping my teeth around her neck (gently) knowing damn well she'll instantly freeze thanks to that adorable prey reaction of hers

#it actually is so cute #primal play #prey #predator #primal kink #t4t #queer #lovers #requited love #queer nsft #t4t nsft #ftm nsft #transmasc #trans nsft #puppy pl@y #puppy gf

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johnnyslittleanimalblog · 3 days

Video

flickr

african lion Ouwehand 3L0A0479 by safi kok

#animal #Africa #afrika #Afrikaanse leeuw #african Lion #mammal #zoogdier #dier #predator #panthera leo leo #Leeuw #Lion #witte leeuw #white lion #timbavati #Ouwehands #Ouwehands dierenpark #Ouwehand #flickr

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sweeetestcurse · 3 days

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Dane DiLiegro as Feral Predator/Predator in Prey (2022) 05/??

#preyedit #dane diliegro #feral predator #predator #gifs #prey #my gifs #blood #animal death #queue

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tyrinecarver · 2 days

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It's been forever since I've drawn this classic matchup. Which is crazy cuz I love Yautja. But they, like Xenomorphs, are stupidly hard to draw lol.

Artwork © Tyrine Carver and Wil Woods of Musetap Studios

Process videos on my tiktok @ Musetap Get the print at musetapstudios.com! -- Twitter/Pinterest/Artstation/DeviantArt/Tiktok: Musetap -- Facebook/Instagram: MusetapStudios -- [email protected]

#xenomorph #predator #yautja #musetap #tyrine #wil woods #art #digital art #op is artist #fanart #musetap studios #anti ai

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junkfoodcinemas · 4 months

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Predator (1987) dir. John McTiernan

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theactioneer · 4 months

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R.I.P. Carl Weathers (1948-2024)

Predator (1987)

#carl weathers #r.i.p.#80s #action movie #predator

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goryhorroor · 1 month

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horror sub-genres: science-fiction

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spaceshipsandpurpledrank · 1 year

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#talkin #tik tok #predator #5k #10k

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amisunderstoodgoddess · 7 months

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The Hunt

(final part here)

Rating: Explicit +18

Summary: When the creature you fear so much manages to escape containment, will he show you any mercy or take you without any regret?

Author's note: I intend to make this story with just two chapters. This is the first, the second will soon be available. Hope you like it!

English is not my first language.

'ALERT: Specimen 375-6 is out of containment.

It's not training. All search and capture units were activated.

ALERT: Specimen 375-6 out of containment.'

You swallow hard as you read the warning message on your phone, the words falling over your body like a truck of bricks.

He had escaped.

The creature you knew and didn't know.

It was yet another top-secret government item, another non-human biological material captured and kept for research.

He stands out from the others, of course.

With his height, intimidating physique, and obvious intelligence, but you never actually approached his cell, only catching brief glimpses from afar as you did your job collecting and saving data from the scientists' research in the system.

But you always felt something strange in the rare moments you needed to approach the cell block he was in.

He kept to the back, using the shadows to stay hidden. And yet there was one thing that caught your attention, regardless of how dark the place was.

His eyes.

Two orange spheres, standing out like beacons in the night.

He remained basically the same every time you entered that part of the building. Sitting on the floor with his legs half bent and his wrists firmly restrained by chains resting on his knees, you couldn't make out the color of his scaly skin or his features in general, but the color of those eyes shone like neon lights in the darkness of the cell.

He looked at you, every time.

It was disturbingly intense. There were no blinking eyelids or shifting gazes, he stared at you with unwavering focus from the moment you entered the lab until the moment you left. His eyes…they shone with intelligence and superiority. Like he's just there because he wants to be there, not because he was captured. He owned everything he laid eyes on. The rational part of your brain screamed, 'Look away! Run away!' but those eyes seemed to want to capture your soul with each encounter.

All your co-workers had noticed the strange fixation that the creature seemed to have on you, but you always denied it, diverting the subject while saying it was just their imagination.

Deep down you knew it wasn't.

You saw the way his unsettling gaze settled on your form, felt the shiver run down your spine at his gaze and yet - even now, you could still feel that warm buzz inside at the memory of his burning gaze locked on you.

You could admit that it wasn't healthy to feel any level of curiosity towards a murderous monster who was obsessed with you. It was scary.

Your only consolation was that he was tightly contained with the best technologies the government could dispose of.

But he always seemed very calm to you, as if he were above all that. In a confident and almost arrogant way, in the way that only people who have a coldly calculated plan are.

Now he was free.

And you had a horrible feeling that you knew exactly who he was going after.

You quickly walk down the street towards your house. Your heart beats fast, the gentle breeze brushes your warm skin and your loose hair. The canopy of trees above and the few lights along the main path cast their shadow in the opposite direction as you walk faster and faster.

At the end of the street, your eyes notice movement, something large and slow, moving behind a row of parked cars. It's not completely unusual for pedestrians to be out so late - after all, you're here, right? - but your stomach drops a little, very consciously. Something instinctive warning you that it is smart to be afraid.

By the time your trajectory takes you past the line of dark vehicles, the street is once again empty and you allow the hairs on the back of your neck to rise with relief. It was probably just some insomniac suburbanite, taking out the trash or smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk.

Rows of closed windows stare at you blankly as you pass by, colonial houses with sagging porches and overgrown backyards, the residents of the peaceful neighborhood sleeping soundly within the comfort of their homes.

A noise breaks the silence: a loud, prolonged rumble, followed by an inhuman whine, an undeniably animal sound.

There's a single lamp behind you that puts an enormous silhouette into sharp relief, but you can still easily see his solid, dangerous structure.

Your knees threaten to give way, your throat burns as you try to take a deep breath, fear leaves you numb and clumsy in exactly the least desired way at the moment. You don't think, not really, you just act. Getting to the house across the street is like running a marathon, and raising your fists to knock on the door, swing the doorknob, requires a huge effort against the adrenaline that makes your hands shake uncontrollably. "Please help me!", your voice is hoarse, your throat is tight, it's not loud enough, no matter how much you want to scream - it's like you're trapped in a nightmare where no one can hear your screams for help. "Let me in, please, I-"

The door swings open under the weight of your fists, and you almost fall to your knees at the abrupt movement. You don't have time to think, to weigh whether this would be the smartest choice compared to the others, you don't know if he's clinging to your back or if there's still a safe distance between the two of you -

You just enter.

---

The realization of the terrible mistake you made dawns on you in the space of a few minutes of panting breaths.

The living room is empty, strangely enough, not that you really have time to think about it. A staircase appears in your field of vision, and your panicked animal brain sends you toward it, taking two steps at a time, crossing a long landing and climbing to a second floor, holding on to the railing like a wooden board salvation. "Someone please!" You manage to scream, "Please, someone! I'm being followed, call the police!"

The police couldn't help you, and if you were thinking clearly you would know that. No one, not even the army, could help you against this thing.

Yet there is no voice responding, no shuffling human movement, no clicking light. And then you see the paint cans, the tarp, the door off its hinges and against the opposite wall.

This house is under construction.

Nobody. No lights. Without help.

Spinning on your heel, you stagger back toward the stairs. But there is no more time. The door you left ajar in your moment of despair lets in a pale beam of moonlight through the unfinished wooden floor of the foyer, and you watch in mute horror as a shape fills it - huge, so tall that he has to lower his head past the doorframe, a brick wall of an alien assassin wearing a metallic mask. The soulless black holes of the visor, poor excuses for eyes, stare back at you.

Alone, in an empty and unfamiliar house. Your heart pounds in your chest, bile rising in your throat - you're trapped.

You know it. And he knows it too.

The creature walks with slow and determined steps towards the end of the stairs. You briefly, wildly consider waiting until he reaches the landing and then throwing yourself off the balcony. You can survive.

The thought makes you feel like a panicked rat, chewing on its own leg to get out of the trap.

Of course there's also the possibility that you'll break every bone in your body and die from sheer stupidity - which may be preferable to death by those sharp claws on his massive hands, but at least the latter you'll be able to escape. If you can keep your wits and your legs under you, you might be able to outwit the Predator. Evade the trap.

You almost want to laugh at your own delusions of salvation.

Your unsteady feet drag back without your eyes leaving him, but with every slow step you take back he takes one towards the stairs. The silver rays of the moon bathing his reptilian-looking skin, highlighting his entire body dyed in a singular tone of obsidian, with some lighter variations on the abdomen and in some internal points. Thick, long tendrils of 'hair' flow around the mask and over his broad shoulders, adorned with gold and silver metal beads. One of his hands - oh, huge and with long, sharp black claws - seems to want to reach out towards you, but the creature holds back for some reason, preferring to continue with the strange war of glances.

It seems that in his escape from the laboratory he recovered some of his things: in addition to the mask, he wore the wrist gauntlets, the net that covered his body, the strange piece of cloth wrapped around his hips decorated with bones and skulls, and the metallic protectors on the shins. The metallic chestplate and combi-stick weren't visible, you can't tell if he managed to recover it or not.

Regardless, he was infinitely more frightening now that you can see him outside of containment; big and broad, a solid wall of defined muscles. But it was his posture that unnerved you. The roll of his shoulders, the tension in his arms. The almost imperceptible flex of his calf muscles, as if he was preparing to jump - just waiting for a movement from you to attack.

He reaches out, this time to his own face, grabbing the metal there. Air pressure is released when the metal mask is removed.

You hold your breath.

His face was lighter than the rest of his body, a slightly grayish tone with some black streaks mixing with the dreadlock-like hair on his head, a few black barbs framing the sides of his face and along his elongated forehead. There were, of course, those flaming eyes you already knew. Instead of lips, he had four folded jaws with long teeth at the tip of each of them. Inside those jaws, you could see more of his teeth, smaller but more numerous and frighteningly sharp.

He moved his jaws as he climbed the stairs with purposeful slowness, his massive size making the stairs creak, strange clicks and rumbles emerging from his mouth.

You gasped in response to his face, shaky and scared, your backward steps continuing until your back hit the wall.

End of the line.

If you ran you would have to turn your back on him, and you couldn't do that. Never turn your back on a predator, everyone knew this rule.

It was as if you were in a horror movie or a nightmare, where you could only watch without any reaction as the monster approached. The predatory way he approached awakened the primitive instinct to flee, but your legs were shaking too much for that.

You pushed yourself further against the wall, even though there was no longer any space. It looked like he wouldn't stop walking, that he would simply knock you into the wall, but at the last second he pinned you against him and ice-cold wood at your back.

The air was knocked from you, hands flat against his chest instinctively as a way to get some distance. Even under the net, his skin was clearly much warmer and firmer than your own, smooth in some places and textured in others, the latter matching the gray patterns that spread across his extremities. He smelled mostly of moss and damp, like a forest after rain. But there was also a muffled current of pheromones, a slightly peppery scent that hit you like a tsunami.

In fact now that you felt it, it felt heavier and heavier by the second, as if he was exhaling on purpose. With each inhale, that smell seemed to make you a little more relaxed, a little more dizzy.

It took a few seconds for you to realize that he was even closer, hovering above you, his breath hot and wet, stirring your strands of hair. A gasp left your throat as his sharp jaws dove down, digging his nose or whatever it was into your hair to press into your neck - though you didn't know if that sound had been out of terror or something else. All you knew was that when he backed away, another low, animalistic growl resonated from deep in his chest, long and continuous and it took you a few awkward seconds to realize he was...purring? Purring like a cat? It was bizarre, but your own body began to uncoil, as if some force tied behind you sternum had pulled your back with him.

Your breathing is now labored for what seems like an entirely different reason. You can increasingly smell that intoxicating scent in the air and that, plus the mesmerizing purr, is making your eyes roll back slightly, a blurry haze taking over your thoughts. You can feel his sharp claws as they dig into your shirt and you, in turn, can't control the shudder in your body in response.

His scent is doing something to you, something that definitely shouldn't be happening. There's an overwhelming pressure blooming in your core, the beginnings of a dull ache that makes you clench your thighs to ease the tension. The saliva in your mouth comes down with difficulty as you swallow and lick your lips, stretching your neck to look into his eyes - god, you could barely reach the line below his chest with your head. What's happening with you? He is not human, he is not human. This is wrong.

"..." His jaws click and move, strange sounds fill the room with deep growls and hisses; he was talking, but you couldn't understand him. His eyes roam your face as he speaks his strange language, and his thumb gently wipes away a tear you hadn't even noticed falling from your eye.

You open your mouth to question, to scream for help, to beg for mercy, for anything...but nothing comes out.

His breath is hot as he bends his body until he's almost face to face with you, all predatory expression and clicking jaws, almost drooling on your skin. And then, as he forcing the words out of his depths, he says, “Mate.” He declares to you, slowly and gravely in a way that no human sound could ever be, but a little more understandable now.

You look at him in shock, not expecting a deep, English word to come out of his alien mouth. His inhuman eyes are bright enough that you clearly see the orange flames in the dim light of the night, slashed down the center with black, almost feline pupils that threaten to drag you inside.

Mate.

What the hell?

You blink slowly, the low rumble persisting as he purrs under your attention and you can tell he's trying very hard to appear less threatening to you. You bite your lip against a hysterical and completely untimely laugh that wants to escape, the tension of fear finally channeling into something different (something manic and traumatized) when he presses his broad forehead to yours in a frighteningly intimate gesture, tilting his head even further to rub your cheeks with those sharp jaws, snorting into your hair and sniffing at your neck.

The drag of the deadly fangs against your skin is exhilarating, in the worst way and you fear what is to come, a very animal and very instinctive part rooted in the most unconscious corner of your being, knows exactly what this creature is wanting from you. And the worst part, the most disturbing and embarrassing part of this realization, is that you don't know if you want to resist. Not with the way his scent and purrs are making your legs shaky and your mind fuzzy.

You're shaking, but it's not just from fear and perhaps the creature knows this, because he pulls back a little until he looks into your eyes - something very carnal and very primal vibrating almost visibly beneath that reptilian skin.

He slowly looks away from yours to fiddle with something on his wrist, and you feel like you can breathe once again without the oppressive weight of the orange orbs on you. He clicks the object on his arm for a few moments and then pulls a small metal disk out of it. It's no bigger than a small cell phone chip, and he balanced it on his fingertips.

Curious, you lean in a little. You just want to take a look at what he's doing; but before you even know what's happening, the giant puts his hand around your throat and pulls you towards him. You scream at the hostile action and try to fight him, but of course it's no use. With his strong hand, he can easily subdue you and move your head to the side, pressing the metal thing against the skin just behind your ear in a quick, burning blow.

You don't have time to react, much less to understand how he did that at that speed.

You just feel the effect.

It burns, like you're being branded, and you scream. Your whole head hurts, and for a second you wonder if he hit you against the wall in the process. It's a wrong and distorted feeling, like someone is tuning a radio inside your head, you hear screams and white noise echoing inside; so loud that you have to cover your ears with your hands, but that does little to decrease to the cacophony inside your mind.

When the alien releases you, you kneel on the ground, still writhing in discomfort and pain from the chaos in your head – and then, suddenly, everything stops. You're panting, your fingers covering your ears and your head between your knees, but when the noise quiets, you slowly look up. And although you are dizzy and a little disoriented, the presence of the creature hovering ominously above you is clear.

“W-what was that?” you mumble between quick breaths. "What the hell did you do to me!?"

The alien blinks slowly and tilts his head, jaws clicking before he responds. "Now we can talk."

Your eyes widen at the strange sound (but fluid and articulate, very different from just a few minutes ago), your stomach tightens and you pull your knees closer to your chest. “W-what?”

“It’s a translator,” he says. His voice is still very dark and booming, but his growls and clicks have somehow turned into words you can understand. “This allows your little ooman brain to understand my language.”

You swallow hard and feel the blood drain from your body. He was scary when you couldn't understand him, but he was even scarier when he could talk.

“Get up, little ooman,” he murmurs. “We should get to my ship. I don’t want to spend any more time on this miserable planet.”

You can't believe what you're hearing, everything is happening so fast. With shaky legs, you gape at him. “I…I don’t understand.”

The moment is interrupted by something when the alien turns his head towards the window of the house, the various dreads tubes rattling with the movement and his jaws opening in a low trill while a long, forked tongue at the tip comes out of his deadly-looking mouth. You gasp at the sight, but he doesn't look at you, using his own body in front of yours, as if he was instinctively hiding and protecting you from something you cannot see, feel or hear. The burgundy appendage is long and glistens with the moisture of his alien saliva, along its length there are some quivers and small barbs. He slowly waves the thing in the air, almost as if he's proving something. And then you understand.

He's smelling it.

Maybe he's even more snake-like than you thought, after all, catching scent particles in the air with his tongue.

The air is positively thick with eager anticipation, he's alert and ready and you feel it.

You don't have time to think about it too much, though. Because soon he is looking at you again, although there is no longer any sign of malice and hunger in his posture now. The way he lifts his colossal body until he's completely erect, swelling the already prominent muscles to appear more menacing, only speaks of a creature with a purpose.

"Oomans here. They must have some kind of tracker." He growls once more and clicks that gauntlet again, making you jerk back with a new wave of fear.

"Y-yes, all the containment units are after you now. It's only a matter of time before they find you and try to arrest you again. Y-you should go." You respond quietly and slowly, trying to make him understand every word.

"My ship is nearby." He grumbles sullenly. You try to control the wave of curiosity that the word 'ship' evokes in you. Seriously, how many humans have had the opportunity to see one up close? But of course you don't say anything, if you got out of this situation with your life it would be good enough. You would forget about this bizarre encounter and go on with your peaceful and boring life as if you had received the greatest gift of all.

But then he continues.

“You…” He covers your body with his once again, cornering you against the wall. Your eyes widen as he wraps a thick arm around your waist, pulling you into him. "You belong to me now, ooman. You'll come along."

You feel like you didn't get it right. “T-to space?”

He doesn't seem to want to entertain this conversation anymore and just grunts again.

It's like all the red flags go up in your mind at once.

"N-no! No, I can't, that's...I can't!"

But he doesn't listen to you, and you can't predict the sharp sting on your neck. It doesn't hurt like it used to, but he cradles your head with huge fingers almost tenderly as a sickening sensation wracks your body and makes you stagger. You feel weak, your body giving out as you babble out things that even you don't understand. Everything is getting dark and your little fingers are scratching his arms looking for support, your breathing is coming with difficulty and your eyes are unfocused.

"It's okay, mate, just give in...I'll take care of you..." He purrs, but you can barely hear him, your senses are fuzzy and lethargic and you know you're going to pass out.

The last thing you see before the darkness swallows you and the unknown can wrap its tentacles around you, are orange flames above you. Hot, consuming and scary.

And then there is nothing but emptiness.

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