#kwei x reader

Kwei had brought it down before sunrise, ending the fight with a clean strike through the spine.

Now, its skull belongs to him.

And soon, it will belong to someone else.

It is quiet as he returns to the clan grounds.

The evening air is cold, carrying the smell of distant fire smoke.

The clan is already preparing. Fires are being lit.

Warriors move through the settlement, carrying supplies and sharpening blades.

They all know what tomorrow is.

The claiming ceremony.

A tradition older than most of the warriors present.

A hunt is completed. The skull of the creature is offered. And from the females of the clan, one is chosen to become a wife.

Kwei reaches the entrance of the central courtyard and pauses for a moment.

His brother is waiting.

Dek stands near one of the fire pits, arms crossed over his chest. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes immediately fall on the skull in Kwei’s hands.

“A worthy kill,” Dek says.

Kwei steps closer and sets the skull on the stone table between them.

The bone is thick and ridged, its teeth curved and brutal. A dangerous creature. The kind that earns respect when it is brought down.

Dek runs a clawed finger across one of the horns.

“It will make a fine first gift.”

Kwei grunts in agreement.

The skull will not remain here long. By this time tomorrow, it will be placed in the hands of his chosen mate.

Dek glances at him.

“You have decided, then.”

It is not a question.

Kwei has never been one to hesitate.

“Yes.”

Dek leans back slightly, studying his brother.

“And yet you have told no one.”

Kwei does not answer.

He reaches for a cloth and begins cleaning the remaining blood and dirt from the bone.

The silence stretches.

Dek snorts softly.

“You enjoy this.”

Kwei glances at him briefly.

“What?”

“The mystery. Every female in this clan has been preparing for weeks.”

Kwei knows.

He has seen it.

Some train harder. Some speak louder. Some walk closer to him than they once did, hoping their presence will be noticed.

Dek gestures lazily toward the outer paths of the settlement.

“They believe they know what you want.”

Kwei finally sets the cloth aside.

“They are wrong.”

Dek’s brow ridges lift slightly.

“Oh?”

Kwei leans his weight against the stone table.

“I do not want a warrior.”

Dek blinks.

That is not the answer he expected.

“You are a hunter. One of the strongest in this clan.”

“I know.”

“Then why would you not want a warrior beside you?”

Kwei looks toward the distant treeline.

Because he has seen what that looks like.

He has watched the pairings before.

Two warriors sharing a home that feels more like a training ground.

Competition.

Strength measured every day.

He does not want that.

“I have enough war in my life,” he says simply.

Dek studies him carefully now.

“You believe a warrior cannot bring peace.”

“I believe a warrior will not try.”

Dek crosses his arms again.

“And the others?”

Kwei knows what he means.

The females who have approached him these past months.

Strong hunters.

Impressive fighters.

Loud.

Proud.

They want to stand beside him because he is strong.

Because his name carries weight in the clan.

Because they believe standing next to him will raise their own.

But that is not what he wants.

Kwei glances down at the skull again.

“I do not want someone who sees me as a prize.”

Dek tilts his head slightly.

“And yet you have chosen.”

“Yes.”

The answer is firm.

Certain.

Dek’s gaze sharpens.

“Then tell me who you chose.”

Kwei meets his brother’s eyes.

“No.”

Dek laughs under his breath.

“You truly intend to surprise the entire clan.”

Kwei does not smile.

But his eyes shift slightly toward the path leading down to the water pools.

Earlier that day, he had passed by there.

He had seen you kneeling beside a youngling, cleaning a cut on the small warrior’s arm.

Your hands had been gentle.

Your voice soft.

You had not noticed him watching.

You rarely notice him.

Most of the others do.

They look at him with calculation.

With ambition.

With the quiet hunger to be chosen.

You do not.

You speak to him when spoken to.

You nod respectfully.

Then you return to whatever task you were doing.

Water.

Food preparation.

Helping someone who needed it.

You never try to impress him.

And that, strangely, had made you impossible to ignore.

Dek notices the shift in his gaze.

“You are thinking of her.”

Kwei’s attention snaps back to his brother.

“I did not say that.”

“You did not need to. Is she strong?”

Kwei considers the question.

Then shakes his head.

“Not in the way you mean.”

Dek leans forward slightly, curious.

“Then why her?”

Kwei looks around the courtyard.

The stone.

The weapons.

The skulls of old hunts mounted along the walls.

This place is strong.

Impressive.

But it is not warm.

His home is the same.

Strong.

Cold.

Empty.

He exhales slowly.

“A hunter can fill my walls with trophies. But they cannot fill my home.”

Dek’s expression changes slightly.

Understanding flickers there.

“You want warmth.”

“Yes.”

Dek studies him for a long moment.

“You believe she can give you that.”

Kwei nods once.

“I know she can.”

Dek pushes away from the fire pit and stretches his arms.

“Well. Tomorrow will be interesting.”

Kwei lifts the skull from the table again.

The bone is heavy.

Solid.

A worthy gift.

Tomorrow, he will place it in your hands.

You will be shocked.

He knows that already.

You will look up at him with those wide, uncertain eyes and wonder why he has chosen you.

He can already imagine the question forming in your mind.

Why me?

Kwei turns toward the ceremonial hall.

The fires inside are already being prepared.

The clan will gather.

The elder will speak.

And when the moment comes, he will walk past every female who tried to be noticed.

Until he stops in front of the one who never tried at all.

Dek calls after him.

“One last question.”

Kwei pauses.

His brother grins slightly.

“Are you certain she will accept you?”

Kwei glances back over his shoulder.

For a moment, his expression softens.

Then he answers.

“If she does not, I will accept it. But I will not choose another.”

Dek studies him carefully.

That answer surprises him even more than the rest.

Kwei turns away again and continues toward the hall.

The skull rests steady in his hands.

Tomorrow, the clan will believe he is choosing a wife.

But the truth is simpler than that.

Tomorrow, he will choose warmth.

---

You were the only human living in the settlement. Yautja wasn't really the kind to accept other species. But after one of their Elders took you from Earth as a live trophy, you began to live amongst them. You learned their language, their traditions and soon, you became a member of their clan.

During an attack, you proved yourself worthy by saving the younglings. They were left behind, not a priority. But you fought a monster and kept them safe.

It earned you your place in their society.

An independent female living on her own, doing chores she can.

This will not be your first ceremony. During such events, all females are present.

You were never chosen and you expect the same to happen today.

The fire is already burning when you arrive.

The smell of smoke mixes with the cool evening air.

You pause at the edge of the courtyard.

There are many females already standing near the stone platform where the ritual will take place.

Some are hunters.

Some are warriors.

All of them know why they are here.

You lower your gaze slightly as you move to stand among them.

The ceremony is an old tradition. One that carries weight within the clan. A warrior proves himself through a hunt, bringing back the skull of the creature he killed. That skull becomes the first gift to the female he chooses as his mate.

A promise.

A declaration.

A sign that he can provide.

And tonight, the warrior who will make that choice is Kwei.

You have spoken to him before.

But not often.

You do not think he even notices you.

So you take your place quietly among the others and keep your head lowered.

Around you, the other females stand tall.

Some wear their armour proudly. Others carry the marks of previous hunts on their skin. Their posture is confident. Their movements are careful and deliberate.

They expect to be seen.

You do not.

Your hands rest loosely in front of you as you stare at the ground underneath your feet.

The stone floor is warm from the fire.

The air around you feels heavy with anticipation.

Then the drums begin.

A deep, steady rhythm echoes across the courtyard. Warriors of the clan begin to gather around the outer circle, their large forms surrounding the ceremonial space.

You feel their eyes moving over the line of females.

Judging.

Watching.

Waiting.

You try not to think about it.

You try not to think about Kwei.

The drums grow louder.

Then suddenly they stop.

Silence falls across the courtyard.

You lift your eyes slightly.

The elder steps forward first.

He stands beside the stone platform, raising one hand to quiet the crowd completely.

“Tonight,” he begins, his voice carrying easily across the courtyard, “a hunter returns with honour.”

You hear movement behind you.

Heavy footsteps.

You already know who it is.

Kwei enters the courtyard slowly.

You do not look directly at him at first.

But you see the shape of him from the corner of your vision.

Tall.

Broad.

Strong.

In his hands, he carries the skull.

The bone is pale beneath the firelight, thick and ridged with long, curved horns. Even from this distance, you can see how dangerous the creature must have been when it was alive.

The elder gestures toward the skull.

“The hunt proves strength,” he says.

Kwei steps forward and places the skull on the ceremonial stone.

The bone lands with a heavy sound.

“The gift proves worth.”

You swallow slightly.

This is the moment every female here has been waiting for. You don't expect anything tonight. But then, why are you nervous?

The elder continues.

“From among the females of this clan, the hunter will choose the one he believes worthy to stand beside him. The skull of his hunt will become the first gift given to his mate.”

The elder steps back.

All attention turns to Kwei.

Your heart beats even faster now.

Kwei stands beside the skull for a moment.

He lifts it.

The bone looks heavy in his hands.

He turns.

And begins to walk.

You keep your head lowered.

You do not want to draw attention to yourself. You do not want to seem as if you expect anything.

So you stare at the stone floor and wait for the moment to pass.

Kwei’s footsteps move slowly down the line of females.

He stops briefly in front of the first.

She stands tall.

Confident.

But after a moment, he moves again.

Another female.

Another pause.

Another step forward.

You hear the faint murmurs of the crowd.

Everyone watching.

Your hands tighten slightly together.

You know he will not stop here.

You barely know him.

And you certainly are not the kind of female warriors usually choose.

You are not the strongest.

You are not the fiercest.

You have never tried to be.

So when the footsteps stop in front of you, you assume he is choosing the female standing beside you.

You remain still.

Head lowered.

Breathing quietly.

But the footsteps do not move again.

Seconds pass.

You lift your eyes.

And find Kwei standing directly in front of you.

Your breath catches.

For a moment, you simply stare at him.

Surely this is a mistake.

Surely he means someone else.

But his eyes are on you.

Only you.

The courtyard has gone completely silent.

Your heart begins to pound.

You glance slightly to the side, wondering if he will move again.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lowers the skull.

And places it gently into your hands.

The bone is heavier than you expected.

You nearly stumble under the sudden weight.

Your eyes widen in shock.

A ripple of murmurs spreads through the watching clan.

You barely hear them.

All you can see is Kwei standing in front of you.

All you can feel is the heavy skull resting in your arms.

Kwei speaks.

“This hunt, I dedicate to my mate.”

Mate.

The word echoes through your mind.

Your fingers tighten instinctively around the bone.

You look up at him again, searching his face for some sign that this is a mistake.

But there is none.

His expression is calm.

As if this decision was never in doubt.

The elder steps forward again.

“The gift has been given. The choice has been made.”

Your heart is still racing.

You feel the eyes of the entire clan on you now.

Some surprised.

Some curious.

You barely know what to do.

So you hold the skull carefully and bow your head slightly.

It is the only response you can manage.

You accepted.

The elder nods once.

“Then the bond is acknowledged.”

The drums begin again.

The ceremony continues.

But you barely hear any of it.

Your mind is still caught on one simple thought.

Kwei chose you.

Out of everyone standing here.

He chose you.

And you have absolutely no idea why.

The celebration lasts long into the evening.

Fires burn across the clearing, and the scent of roasted meat fills the air. Yautja warriors sit together, recounting hunts and victories, their deep voices carrying across the night. Skulls and trophies gleam in the firelight, reminders of strength and survival.

You sit quietly among the others. The other females congratulated you, you could tell, they were truly happy for you.

The skull Kwei offered you rests beside you, polished and carefully placed on a mat. It is heavier than you expected. Not just in weight, but in meaning.

You try not to think about it.

Instead, your fingers trace the ridges of the skull, remembering the moment he placed it in your hands. The heat of his gaze. The certainty in his voice.

You are still not entirely sure this is real.

Across the fire, Kwei sits with the other hunters.

He speaks little. That part does not surprise you.

But his eyes move often.

And every time they do, they return to you.

You feel it each time.

It makes your heart beat strangely.

Eventually, the celebration begins to thin. Warriors rise and return to their homes. The fires burn lower. The air grows quieter.

You stand slowly, unsure of what comes next.

You feel his presence before you hear him.

Heavy footsteps approach behind you.

"Kwei."

His voice is low, gentle in a way that surprises you.

You turn.

Up close, he seems even larger than before. The firelight catches along the plates of his armour and the faint scars across his skin.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

Then he gestures.

A simple motion toward the path leading away from the clearing.

You follow him.

The walk is quiet.

The clan settlement fades behind you, replaced by the softer sounds of night insects and distant wind moving through the stone.

His home stands slightly apart from the others.

It is sturdy, built from thick wood and dark stone, decorated with trophies of hunts long past. Bones, claws, and carved markings line the entrance.

Yet the inside feels strangely empty.

Cold.

You step inside cautiously.

Kwei enters behind you and closes the door.

For a long moment, he simply stands there, watching you.

You feel suddenly very aware of yourself.

Of the skull you still carry.

Of the strange new weight of being chosen.

Finally, you speak.

"Why?"

The word leaves you before you can stop it.

Your voice is quiet, but the question feels enormous in the silence.

Kwei tilts his head slightly.

You force yourself to continue.

"There were stronger females."

Your hands tighten slightly around the skull. You look down briefly.

"I am not like them."

Silence fills the room.

You wonder if you have spoken out of place.

Then Kwei moves.

He steps closer until he stands only a short distance away.

Up close, his size is overwhelming.

But his posture is calm.

Not threatening.

His voice is softer than you expected.

"I know."

You blink.

He reaches out slowly, tapping two claws gently against his chest.

"My home."

Then he gestures around the room.

The cold walls.

The empty space.

"It is cold." His gaze returns to you. "I do not want another hunter."

His head tilts again, studying your expression carefully.

"I want warmth."

Your breath catches slightly.

He gestures again, mimicking the shape of something being built with his hands.

"A nest."

A nest.

A home.

His voice lowers even further.

"You bring warmth."

Your throat tightens unexpectedly.

You stare at him, trying to understand.

"But... we barely speak."

His mandibles shift slightly in what you slowly realise might be something like a smile.

"I observe."

You freeze.

"You bring food to injured younglings. You share water. You speak gently. You are kind."

Your cheeks grow warm.

You had never thought anyone would notice those things.

Kwei steps closer.

"The others want battle. I want peace."

His hand lifts slowly.

For a moment, you think he might touch you.

But he stops just short, as if he is unsure if he is allowed.

"You are different."

Silence settles between you.

Your heart beats quickly.

Slowly, carefully, you set the skull down on the nearby table.

Then you look back up at him.

"I don't know how to be a Yautja wife."

The words feel embarrassingly small.

He shakes his head.

"I do not want a Yautja wife. I want you."

The simplicity of it hits harder than anything else.

Your chest tightens.

Slowly, you step forward.

His posture goes completely still.

You lift your hand.

For a moment, you hesitate.

Then you place your palm gently against his chest.

The warmth under your hand surprises you.

His breath catches slightly.

You look up at him.

"I can try."

The words are quiet but sincere.

Kwei does not move for several seconds. Then his large hand slowly lifts, covering yours where it rests against him.

---

The clan is quiet when Kwei returns from the hunt.

Night has already fallen. The air is sharp with the coming winter, cold enough that frost gathers along the edges of leaves and stones.

His armour is heavy with the scent of blood and earth. A large creature hangs across his shoulder, its claws bound with thick rope.

The hunt was successful.

Any other hunter would walk proudly through the clan with such a prize. Many do. They enjoy the attention, the admiration, the loud praise from other warriors.

Kwei walks past them without stopping.

His path leads somewhere else.

Home.

The word still feels strange sometimes. Not because it is unfamiliar, but because of what it has become.

Years ago, this place was nothing more than a shelter. Stone walls. A place to sleep between hunts. Cold, quiet, empty.

Now it is something different.

Now it is yours.

The door opens with a low wooden creak.

Warm air greets him first.

Then the smell.

Cooked meat. Herbs you gathered earlier in the day. The faint smoke from the fire burning in the hearth.

It is a scent he knows well now.

It is the scent of peace.

Furs cover the stone floor, and the large sleeping nest in the corner is piled high with thick pelts from hunts. Some are from creatures that live far. Some from beasts so large that bringing them home nearly cost him his life.

Every single one was brought here for the same reason.

You.

Humans feel cold easily. He learned that very quickly.

And so the nest grew warmer with every passing season.

Kwei lowers the creature from his shoulder onto the floor near the door.

The sound draws your attention.

You step out from the back room, wiping your hands against a cloth.

When you see him, your face lights up immediately.

"Kwei."

Your voice is soft and warm, exactly the way it always is when he returns.

You walk toward him without hesitation.

You are smaller than him. Much smaller. Yet you stand before him without fear, reaching for him.

Your hand touches his arm.

"You are back."

He nods once.

Your eyes move briefly to the creature on the floor.

"You had a good hunt."

Another nod.

You smile.

There is no jealousy in your voice. No competition. No pride that demands proof of strength, the way many Yautja females would.

Only quiet happiness that he returned safely.

The warmth in his chest spreads instantly.

You turn slightly, already moving toward the fire.

"I made food. I was not sure when you would return, but it should still be warm."

You speak casually, like this is the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe for you it is. For him, it is still something precious.

Something rare.

He watches you move around the room, adjusting the pot above the fire, setting out the carved wooden bowls you prefer to use. The soft fur around your shoulders shifts when you move.

You hum quietly to yourself while you work.

Kwei removes his armour slowly, placing the heavy pieces against the wall.

Your home is full now.

Not with trophies or weapons.

With life.

You glance back at him over your shoulder.

"Was the hunt difficult?"

He could tell you many things.

About the creature that nearly tore open his side. About the long chase through the frozen river. About the moment he drove his blade through the beast's skull.

But he only answers simply.

"It was good."

You laugh softly.

"You always say that."

Kwei tilts his head slightly.

It is true.

He does not enjoy talking about hunts the way the others do. They sit for hours telling stories of blood and battle.

He listens.

But he does not speak.

You bring the food to the low table near the fire and sit down.

"Come. Eat."

He steps closer.

But instead of sitting immediately, he reaches for you.

Large arms wrap around your body, lifting you easily from the floor before you can react.

You laugh in surprise.

"Kwei!"

He does not answer.

Instead, he carries you across the room toward the large nest of furs.

You try to continue your earlier conversation.

"What did you hunt this time? It looked big."

No answer.

You glance up at him.

He lowers himself onto the nest, pulling you with him until you are pressed safely against his chest.

Your head rests just under his chin.

Only then does he finally speak.

"I want to hear you."

You blink.

"What?"

His arms tighten slightly around you.

"Talk."

You laugh again, quieter this time.

"You just came back from a hunt and you want to hear me talk?"

He nods.

Your fingers trace small circles against the skin of his arm.

"What should I talk about?"

Kwei closes his eyes briefly.

Your voice is calm.

Soft.

Warm.

It fills the space in a way nothing else ever could.

"Anything."

You think for a moment.

Then you begin speaking about your day.

About the herbs you gathered near the river. About the young hunter who slipped in the mud during training and covered himself completely in dirt. About how one of the elders tried to teach you a new recipe, but nearly burned the meat.

Your words flow easily.

Kwei listens.

He does not interrupt.

Does not move.

His large body relaxes slowly under your gentle voice.

This is what he wanted all those years ago.

Not another warrior.

Not another hunter eager for battle.

Warmth.

A home.

A nest filled with life.

Your hand eventually moves through his dreadlocks absentmindedly while you continue talking.

Your fingers are gentle.

Comforting.

At some point, your voice slows.

"You are very quiet tonight."

He opens one eye slightly.

"I am listening."

You smile against his chest.

"Did you at least miss me while you were gone?"

The question is playful.

Light.

Kwei opens his eyes fully now.

His hand moves up, gently holding the back of your head as he pulls you closer.

"Always."

The word is low.

Certain.

Your heart warms instantly.

Exactly the way Kwei always wanted.

~Masterlist~

Pain was a familiar to Kwei.

He's recalled pain through the stories scrawled and written across his body in scars. Three-clawed slashes from dangerous creatures. Broken skin healed over from traps set by Yautja of other clans, usually bad bloods. Scars from prey that escaped him. Scars from those that lined the walls of his ship's trophy room. He could recall each prickle and red-hot scalding stab of pain he's felt from a single glance. Kwei has felt so much before.

But nothing like this.

The dull, bottomless, helplessly growing ache in his chest that came with holding his own blade against his brother's throat. The same blade that sliced cleanly through flesh and set blood free from the confines of skin and muscle.

His fondness for Dek had done this to him. Had it been any other Yautja ordered to do this, they would've sliced Dek's head off in a heartbeat.

Watching the panicked, almost pleading, disbelieving gaze etched onto Dek's petrified features only deepened the sinkhole that opened in his stomach. His brother's mandibles had flared out in snarls and loud growling shrieks… but Kwei knew better. His growls weren't a warning to Kwei. They were cries for mercy— a concept shown by next to no Yautja. Worthy prey was hunted. Yautja were predators to all.

And above all else, weakness was not tolerated among their kind.

Fragility was not accepted. The frail and feeble were cast aside.

Yet Kwei could not stand the thought of doing the same to his very own brother. Dek, who stuck his neck out for him, even when they were stupid children. His brother, who lost a fang saving him from a deadly children's toy. The one who stood beside him longer than their father had ever been around.

Kwei disobeyed his father. He raised his own blade against him and sent Dek away. Far away— to Genna, where he could hunt and bring back his trophy. He would honor the family. Him. Kwei.

"Bring it back home," Kwei had said, clutching his severed arm to his chest before saving his brother from Njohrr. His memory would be honored by Dek's Kalisk trophy.

Now he was here. Fighting off the call of dhi'ki-de just long enough for him to watch his ship disappear into the sky. It was an honor in itself, wasn't it? He felt that it was. Dek would be safe inside of his ship. The cruel, harsh lands of Genna would test his brother, but that little runt was nothing if not resilient. A good fighter, a good hunter…. a good Yautja. Dek would be a good Yautja. Maybe Genna would whip the stubborn, ignorant arrogance out of him, and whip some common sense in.

An airy chuckle slipped from his mouth. Blood followed shortly after, speckling the insides of his mandibles with green, glowing blood. This pain didn't matter at all. Not when Dek was out of Njohrr's grasp.

Kwei could die like this… really, he could.

He was content knowing he protected his brother.

He was at peace.

The Yautja laid out on the padded medical table is… big, to say the least. But your ship told you that he was rather average for a Yautja. It made you wonder if he was an Elite yet or just a blooded hunter. Unless you could see his trophies, then you'll refrain from putting too many labels on him.

…Armor makes you think of Elite. Just not quite Elder status since he's clearly got some youth to him. That, and the lack of accessories you've seen elders adorned with.

But blooded also makes sense— you're getting off track!

You tentatively glanced at his severed arm. Technically, you could reattach it. What irked you was the damage. It was badly burned. So you were going to do the easier thing and give him a new one. If you kept the lopped off limb in some Weyland Yutani Corporation Regenerative Juices ™, they might make a dent in the damaged flesh.

You hoped it did. You didn't want to be on the receiving end of a Yautja's wrath.

All of his armor was set aside in preparation for your little operation. What he was left in were some plain fabric clothes. Simple enough to protect him from the elements, and practical for his armor.

Plasma cannon! Cool. These were one of the weapons you never got the chance to see up close without the fear of three dots locking onto your form. The metal was smooth to the touch and had an appropriate weight to it.

Your eyes flitted back to the Yautja as he shifted. You held your breath for a moment— had the anesthesia seriously worn off already?

Fortunately, it hadn't, and he settled rather quickly, his head gently lulling to the other side. His dreadlocks fell away to expose the rest of his neckline, where lighter lines alerted you of scars long healed over. The 'hair' on his head interested you more than the scars. They were considerably thinner compared to the thick, hefty ones you've seen in your few encounters with Yautja warriors. Some had them, some didn't. They were just as varied as humans were, in all honesty.

His shoulder guards and arm gauntlets were placed beside it. As were his weapons. In reach, if he suddenly decided to bypass a bunch of drugs meant to keep him unconscious and numb and beat your ass. No point in locking his stuff up— you'd love to keep your head on your shoulders instead of pissing him off.

With all of his things taken care of, you did one final sweep to check his injuries. Most of them healed rapidly thanks to your ship's immaculate medical abilities. You'd be absolutely screwed without them. As you ran your hands carefully over the healed wounds, you took note of how hot he ran. You weren't worried that he was running a fever— more so curious as to why his body radiated such heat. To add onto your many satisfied curiosities, you found that his skin was an odd mixture of roughly textured and smooth skin. Almost like an alligator's hide with a lot more give. The color, a reddish-brown, was deep, with lighter hues around the center of his face.

And his face… he had a strong set of mandibles on him. It felt strange, viewing a Yautja so closely. They weren't a species known for being friendly and outspoken. No, they… they were private. Secluded, only venturing the vast universe for hunts. You heard they reserved their faces for family and, in rare cases, worthy opponents. His fangs were big. A quick comparison told you that they were larger than your pointer fingers.

The Yautja took a particularly deep breath, his exhale lightly shaking his mandibles in his medically induced slumber.

"Excuse me for just a second," you murmured under your breath, removing the last bit of armor he had. It was a simple neck piece that slipped beneath the rest of his shirt, the former of which you promptly whisked away. "I've got to make sure nothing pokes you while you shift around."

His muscles were firm. He could crack your head like an egg with his remaining arm if he wanted.

Then again, couldn't all Yautja do that to you?

Ah, right, you had a job to do. Weyland should've killed you by now for your thoughts. They always had a mind of your own and ran on for far too long.

You gently moved his dreadlocks out of the way so they didn't catch on the metal tools you had set out. But with how heavily sedated he was, and how much blood he lost, you weren't too worried about him waking up anytime soon. Whatever cut his arm off ended up cauterizing some of the marred flesh. It prevented him from bleeding out right away.

A soft sigh fell past your lips, your gaze sweeping over his form.

"Who did you piss off, big guy…?"

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, getting straight to work on attaching his new arm. Yautja weapons were no joke. They used some sort of laser technology for a lot of their shit. This clean slice was clearly done by a blade.

It took you hours to connect this refined prototype of yours. The ship's advanced medical systems found the nerves and muscles you could work with. The cauterized wounds had to be reopened for the new cybernetic augmentation. Flexible, durable, and strong. Weyland Yutani lost a good synth technician. Or an insane one. You liked brushes with death a little too much for your own good.

The time it took was worth it. It made you feel better about yourself that you relied mostly on your own handiwork instead of letting the robotic little pinchers take over and do your work for you. You weren't going to be like those assholes at Weyland who could repair busted synths in a matter of seconds. You were human. You made things more complicated for yourself because you could.

Besides, when are you going to get the chance to simply observe a Yautja like this again?

Kwei doesn't wake up like he thought he would.

Last he checked, he was crumpled up and discarded in his desert biome of a home, trying to ignore the call of dhi'ki-de

So, what in Paya's name was he doing on a medical bed?

It was like bags of lead were set all over his body to keep him from moving. Even blinking took more effort than it normally would've. Kwei's mandibles spread out gently, almost like he were stretching them, before settling flat against his mouth. He was able to glance around once his eyes fully adjusted to the dim lighting of the medical room.

It was unlike his own ship. Cooler tones and sleeker designs, although clearly the interior has seen better days.

Kwei's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. With each second that passed, he felt the weight easing from his abdomen. Whatever made him so numb and limp was swiftly leaving his system.

His yellow eyes landed on a figure's back. Small, too small to be a Yautja. Smooth skin, a body not fit for constant fighting. It was a human. Kwei knew one when he saw one. They were… annoyingly persistent. In the few trips he's made to earth, Kwei had claimed a few skulls for his own trophy wall. They were good prey and good warriors. He's never been disappointed during his fights.

Most traveling humans had translators in their ships, didn't they? The smart ones, if he remembered correctly.

"Ooman," Kwei slowly spoke, his clicks and murmurs taking on a slightly raspy edge. He must've swallowed half of Yautja Prime's deserts from how scratchy his throat was. "Release me."

You glanced over your shoulder at the sound of his voice. It was deep, not that you expected anything less.

"Huh. You woke up quick…" You swiveled around in your chair, arms folded across your chest. "You're not restrained. I'm not trying to experiment on you or anything like that… just wanted to make sure you didn't die when I found you. You alright?"

He failed to answer. Kwei glanced down at his body. True to your word, he wasn't restrained. He also wasn't without an arm anymore, which stunned him. Here he was thinking that he was experiencing the fabled "phantom pain" he's heard from Elders and those who lost limbs during hunts.

He sat up. Quickly— far too quickly.

"Woah, hold on! Not that fast, come on!"

You scrambled out of your chair to reach him, brushing aside the very real danger of any Yautja being approached so rapidly would've folded their assumed aggressor in half like a lawn chair. You might as well be looking death right in the eye while you're doing this.

The only thing that comforted you was that he was still recovering from the affects of your anesthesia. Which means he's going to fall over if he gets up too fast!! Fuck!!

Your hand shot out to steady him, palm pressing against his chest so he didn't fling himself off of the damn table. You didn't exactly have the time to fear the snapping of his mandibles and enraged glower while you prevented him from smashing his face into the other side of the table. Why were Yautja so hard to calm down?!

A deep growl rumbled from him in response to your touch. The message was loud and clear: "Hands Off", which you weren't stupid enough to ignore. You removed your hand from him, your concerned gaze morphing into an annoyed glare. If he kept moving around so carelessly he was bound to damage the goods.

"Be careful," you warned. "I don't want you ripping that thing out after I spent so long putting it on you. I connected it to a lot of your nerves, too."

Once more, he sat himself up, eyes locked onto the new metal arm he had. He saw where flesh met metal, where the material mimicked the appearance of his remaining hand.

Fearlessly, and almost foolishly, you rolled closer on your swivel chair, resting your arms on the busted back where the headrest was supposed to be. You were too focused on his new prosthetic to care. "Try closing your hand. It should work like a normal arm."

Five digits closed into a fist. The sight alone made your heart soar. You did wonderfully.

I'm a genius. And I didn't even need to use the shit they power their synths with. All I needed to use was his blood. You grinned to yourself, leaning closer to get a better look at the movements of his hand and arm. He tested it out and began bending the prosthetic at the elbow. Each digit and knuckle was also stretched and clenched. It barely made any noise at all, which you prided yourself on above all else. It wasn't loud or annoying!

Anyhow, you were glad he was at least paying attention to your hard work. You had already thought about the fact that his weapons would slip from his grasp if the arm was fully metal, so there was added padding around the hand and where his wrist gauntlet was supposed to go. No use in giving him a new arm if it pissed him off.

You couldn't keep your prideful comment to yourself. "Good, isn't it?"

His eyes immediately shot to you when you decided to open your mouth again. What, he didn't like the way you spoke Yautja?

You rested your chin on crossed arms as you regarded him fully. He was strangely good-looking. Pah, you're looking into things too much. You've basically stared at him for the past few hours. Of course you've gotten used to his features.

"Why am I here?"

"Hmph. I found you bleeding out when I was exploring."

He squinted at you, as if silently asking why you were doing that in the first place. With a soft sigh, you elaborated further.

"Yautja Prime has useful plants when it comes to making medicinal ointments. I figured I'd be able to find something more resilient if I checked on the drier regions of this place. I guess I did find something tough…" You shook the thought out of your head before you asked something you could end up regretting. "What's your name, anyway?"

He had a very serious look now that he was awake. Then again, when weren't Yautja serious? He was the picture of a seasoned hunter. Minus the part about being in pieces when you found him. His hardened features, furrowed, hairless brows, and a scowl. That's a hunter right there. A killer.

So how come the heat in his eyes lacked the lethal hostility Yautja commonly held within them? The kind you were used to seeing wasn't particularly present within him. Perhaps he had more important matters on his mind.

Seeing that he wasn't in the mood to go first, you introduced yourself casually after returning to your seat. He processed it, head cocking to the side subtly, mandibles lifting.

You gestured to him. "There, you've got my name. I'd like to know yours. It's the least you could do after I patched you up."

"Kwei," he finally said, posture still stiff and rigid as a board. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if a wrench would break if you whacked him over the head with it.

Uncomfortable? You internally mused, keeping your eyes on him and your thoughts to yourself. "Nice to meet you, Kwei. You're good at recovering."

Your ship, your rules. You're not going to peel your eyes off of him like a fool. You aren't that stupid. Worst case scenario— you inject him with some more sedatives and toss him back where you found him.

Still… I can't blame him. He probably thought he was as good as dead when he got it ripped off of him.

Now he was so full of… life. Square shoulders, broad frame, and a power that was left unspoken. The power imbalance was apparent here. You gave him what he was missing only hours ago. An upper hand. Any human who had a proper sense of self-preservation would've double-tapped him or ran the other way. You liked doing weird things for humans and other humanoids alike. What use was your skill if you didn't spread your knowledge and technology?

"Why did you save me?" he asked, having had his fill of your blatant staring.

Crossing one leg over the other, you told him why you did what you did. You'd have the same answers if you were in his position. "I wanted to. It's not very fun seeing others bleed out on the floor alone."

He then lifted his prosthetic arm, simply uttering a "Why?" through strong mandibles.

"Because I wanted to. I knew I could save you. By the way, if you still want your actual arm, I've got it sitting in some fluids that will hopefully heal some of the damages."

You pushed yourself across the room while in your swiveling chair. It's the most dangerous thing you've actually got on your ship since you never strap it down, meaning whoever sits in it during takeoff is just asking to die.

Kwei watched as you pulled a cloth away from a covered cylinder. Beneath it, through thick glass, was his severed arm, suspended in a thick blue liquid.

You left it uncovered and returned to the side of the medical bed. "Careful standing up. I might have to get you something sweet. Blood loss and all."

He stood up, which you raised an eyebrow at, and started to put his armor back on. Shoulder guards, wrist gauntlet, a sling of explosives, the collapsible long sword— the whole shebang. You'd think he's getting ready to kill someone. Whoever wronged him, presumably.

Watching him suit up was a good reward for all your hard work. He was quick with it, too. So you took it all in. The movements of a Yautja suiting back up. Each movement had purpose. Every strap that was tightened— all the mechanisms locking into place and armor seemingly melding against one another as he got himself all fitted out.

Eventually, Kwei noticed one of his items was missing. He slowly turned to you, and good lord, were his eyes very telling.

You stared right back at him to try and figure out what was missing.

Neck armor. You set it aside since it was literally soaked with that bio-luminescent green blood of his. You reached over to the nearby counter you set it on and tossed it over. "Here. That's the only one I had to move away. Happy?"

He said nothing the entire time he assessed all of his belongings. Checking if you took anything for yourself, if you hid a weapon of his to use against him, all of that petty nonsense. If he had some common sense about humans, he'd know that a lot of them didn't have the balls to mess with Yautja.

There wasn't a need for him to say "don't touch my things" again. That one look from him was your only warning.

Still, you explained yourself. You'd talk for the both of you. You got back to your feet, grabbing a nearby bowl of snacks to eat from while you watched him do his thing. Yautja were so interesting. You'd observe him like a performer on the side of the street at this point. "I had to move it because it'd mess with my scanners. Don't get your panties in a twist. And here, have this for being a good patient."

You stuck a dried apricot into his mouth without much warning, not caring if he swallowed or spat it out. He flinched immediately and snarled at you. You cackled and ripped your hand away before he could grab it and break it.

"Eat it!" You encouraged, popping the dried stone fruit into your mouth to show him it was safe. "We use it to help those who donate their blood. It's the least sweet fruit I've got on my ship right now. Drink some water, too."

You offered him his water skin back. He took it, none too kindly, but the tension in his shoulders you saw before had lessened.

After he drank, he refocused on you. Was he sizing you up? The hell are you going to do to him? Pull on one of his dreadlocks? Slap him?

Kwei let out a sound suspiciously similar to a huff and stalked away, turning on his heel to lean back against the counter you kept your supplies at. He crossed his arms—

Only to let out a hiss of pain. His new prosthetic arm had smacked against the side of the cabinet when he folded his arms over his chest. You approached him again, already grabbing at the metal to see what was wrong with it. Kwei didn't flinch away from your touch a second time. No, he watched. Like you did with him, ignoring his glares for you to keep your eyes elsewhere. Kwei observed it all with those light, opaque yellow eyes of his.

Your fluid movements as you inspected the metal arm interested him. So you did this as a job. You were familiar with it, weren't you?

A pyode amedha who worked with things that made others stronger.

A tender fleshed, pudgy, weak and slippery soft-bellied human was helping him. Why?

You were tiny. Smaller than Dek, even.

The reminder momentarily stunned Kwei, allowing you the ample opportunity to fidget with the arm. How could he let it slip from his mind for so long?

You busied yourself with correcting the sensitivity and rambling to Kwei, the one Yautja you were sort of set on pack-bonding wit. This guy was cool.

"Sorry, sometimes it can get kinda sensitive. I'll fix it."

Dek. He needed to return to where his ship used to be. He had to wait for Dek.

"Lift your damn arm. You weigh, like, a ton."

Kwei lifted his arm only to access his gauntlet. A few taps brought up a hologram of his ship's location. Genna. Destination reached. A mock-up of the planet showed a red dot pulsating on one of its continents, showing him that Dek landed on solid ground instead of the sea. Good. That was good.

"Thanks. Can you shift to the side a bit? I need to—"

"I need to return to Yautja Prime. Now."

You paused at his interruption, staring him down for a solid five seconds. "We never left. You can take a look— we're in a cave. Not too far from where I found you, but I know Yautja like killing things that can fight back."

He strode past you, brushing your hand off of his arm, walking around like he owned the ship. "I must go to where I keep my ship. My brother will return there and he isn't aware I survived."

You tagged right along. Trailing behind a Yautja was fun! You couldn't see past this behemoth's hulking form. Your eyes followed each sway of his fleshy dreadlocks as they brushed up against his back.

"Where's your brother? Is he on his blooding ritual?"

He glanced over his shoulder, the slightest twinge of surprise flashing through his features. "You know of it?"

"Ehh… my company sort of required we know about any humanoid species. Anyway, where'd he go? What's his name?"

Kwei took another turn. "You ask too many questions."

"I saved your life."

"I did not ask you too."

I should break his legs. You let out a loud groan. "Come on, I don't even want a repayment. I'm curious."

A guttural rumbling followed your groan. "His name is Dek. I sent him to Genna."

He spotted the cockpit, which he zeroed in on right away. His steps just barely shook the ground, thudding dully through the narrow hallways of your ship. Kwei was comically large compared to your normal-sized halls.

His words registered a second later. You rushed to his side when he planted his ass firmly into the captain's chair. "Wait, what? Did you just say Genna? You sent him to Genna?"

Is he making sure Genna kills him first?!

Kwei's hairless brows furrowed, one arched up in question at your surprise. "Yes. The Death Planet."

"I, I know what Genna is. I think everyone who knows about space knows about Genna."

Genna reminded you of a company you used to work at.

Your eyes flitted to the barely covered up logo on your stolen ship. Weyland liked plastering their corporation everywhere. It was almost on every wall in the ship, which definitely wasn't yours. It was a miracle and a half that you snatched it up from under the company's noses, but it was only because it was an older model they planned to decommission. You ran away from those fools for a reason.

"He definitely shouldn't be there. That's where my old company is," you quickly said, already sliding over to the nearby screen to look up the planet's current coordinates. Kwei, apparently good as new, followed, easily dwarfing your body in order to see what you were doing. "I previously worked for Weyland Yutani. They use alien creatures for weapons and they've dug their claws into that planet for the past two years."

He grunted, glaring at the pitiful controls of the cockpit's monitors and navigation. What a shitty ship. "He's doing his hunt. He won't care about humans. Many of you are pyode."

"I'm not soft," You lied straight to his face.

His shoulders subtly shook with a huff-like laughter. "We call you soft meat for a reason."

Alright, asshole. It was your turn for your brows to raise. "Alright, you got me. What's he hunting?"

"Kalisk," he clicked back.

Eugh.

This time around, you failed at hiding your grimace. Kalisks. Those things were tough creatures and deadly. Last you heard, that's what Weyland Yutani wanted from Genna. A Kalisk specimen to study because of their rumored regenerative powers.

You brought your hand up to your face, rubbing at your temples. Getting there would be a headache. "If you want to go to Genna to see him, then—"

"No," Kwei swiftly cut you off, leaning over you.

When the hell did he stand up? You thought, tilting your head back to look up at him. Oh my god he's fucking huge from here.

"He has to hunt. He needs to return here."

You stared up at him incredulously. He can't seriously be pulling this tactic. An intimidation show? Really? After you fixed his damn arm and kept him from bleeding out? You should pelt him with rocks for his audacity.

Your fingers hovered over the coordinates the ship automatically supplied to you. You slowly brought your hand back down after hearing his wishes. From what you knew about Yautja, they honored the hunt. Like no other. If he doesn't think his brother needs the help, then you definitely shouldn't stick yourself into their business. You've been testing fate and tempting death since you dragged Kwei in here.

Tongue darting over your lips, you relented, switching the screen back to the diagnostics and scans your equipment retrieved from Kwei. If Dek was coming back home with a trophy, it'd be a nice surprise (and relief) for him to see his brother waiting for him.

"…Alright, fine. I won't interrupt on his hunt… but I'm going to monitor what Weyland is doing."

His hunt is one thing. You don't know him yourself, but if Weyland gets involved with Dek to try and profit off Yautja weaponry, that's when you're stepping in. You know humans aren't supposed to have their technology. there's too many of your kind, and a bunch of synths, who would only use it to "better humanity", when in reality, they'd probably start a war using Yautja-made weapons.

"I'll head there if I find out that Weyland is trying to utilize your kind's tech, but I won't stop Dek from doing anything. Is that a deal?"

"…Acceptable," the Yautja decided, mandibles pressing back up against his mouth. He could still taste the subtle tartness that lingered from that fruit you fed him.He's never had anything so sweet before. And he's never had a human force-feed him. "I will stop you from reaching my brother if the need arises."

"If we even go there."

"I would decide. Dek went with my ship. Yours is inferior to Yautja-made designs."

"It's not my creation. I stole it."

He crossed his arms. His flesh hand settled upon the new, cold metal of his new arm. It appeared to weird Kwei out for a split second, as he raised his fingers from the chill. You hadn't gotten the chance to put the final, protective layer over the prosthetic, which would've granted the arm a slightly more realistic feel. You'd let Kwei decide if he wanted the synthetic feel or not.

He seemed to be focused on other things aside from your handiwork. Much to your disappointment. Kwei had leaned over to mess with your navigation.

"You don't exactly have a ship to go there."

"I have yours," Kwei shot back with a tone of finality. Fine, he did have a ship. "I will remain here until my brother returns with the Kalisk."

You smacked his hand away when he attempted to punch in some coordinates. "Cut that out. I've hidden the ship and I don't need you messing with where we are right after you woke up."

He decided to pull that intimidation shit again and stood right up from the captain's chair.

"I know my home planet."

…Maybe the Yautja figured out how to show off to each other a little too well. The intimidation thing was starting to work. The fact that he could pick you up and throw you across the ship also had your resolver wavering.

This is why I can't keep doing kind things. You sourly sat down in the seat beside the captain's chair. Kwei settled back down, eyes roving over the shiny, brand-new prosthetic you so graciously gifted him.

"Ooman."

You let your head fall back against your chair. "I've got a name."

"Pyode."

You glared. "What?"

"You craft limbs… can you craft weapons?"

Your gaze softened at his question. You nodded, sitting up straighter. It wasn't everyday that people asked about what you did for a living. "Yeah. Synths, limbs, and weapons. Picked up on a bit when I had an actual job. Why?"

He took out his long sword, giving a simple flick of his wrist to unsheathe it fully from its retracted state. The sword, almost fully black, sizzled with red-hot energy on the sharp edge of the blade. Kwei held it out to you expectantly.

"My sword was damaged in my last fight. Fix it."

"Prove your worth," is what he's saying.

You grasped the handle, finding it uncomfortable and heavy to hold. Yeah, you weren't made for combat. You were made to rot in a room and make cool cybernetic shit.

"…I thought Yautja weren't supposed to give others their technology."

Kwei turned to face you. His eyes bore into your own for what felt like an eternity. Another smartass comment died on your tongue, and you wondered if his brother dealt with this. The unyielding stare of an older, experienced, firm blooded hunter.

"Fix it," he repeated.

You held his gaze before lowering it, sighing at your own show of submission. He was too good at staring someone down. This really wasn't the whole "my ship my rules" thing you had going on anymore.

Kwei's chest appeared to puff out.

“We have enough food in storage to last… two weeks,” rumbled Kwei, who stood in the central room of the smoking wreckage of your ship. 

“Not as long as I’d like, but that’s two weeks longer than dying now,” you joked.

Kwei shot you an unamused look, and his upper mandibles twitched as if scowling. “We will not die now. Have some pride.”

Why would you be dying now? Oh, right, because your ship– Kwei’s, actually– was currently smashed to bits on some uninhabited ice planet.

You and Kwei had set off on a small hunting trip, just to get some exotic meats for an upcoming Yautja ceremony. Sure, the ragtag little band of strays Dek and Thia had picked up only had two Yautjas–  Dek himself and his brother Kwei– but you all still celebrated holidays like Yautja: lots of food, drink, arm-wrestling and headbutting like rams. This would be the first official holiday celebrated by your little group, so it was a big deal, and according to Kwei, a big deal required lots of fancy food. 

So, you’d tagged along with him on his hunting trip. You were a former Weland-Yutani scientist and, while having deserted for Dek’s crew because the ethics board took too many vacations, you were still a scientist and still curious to learn about Yautjas. The ship were barely beyond the atmosphere when Kwei input the wrong coordinates– by a single digit!-- and you’d ended up careening through an asteroid belt before crashing onto this frozen hellscape.

“Kwei, the ship is completely. We have no life support. We’re cooked.”

“We can still survive. The air is breathable,” he grunted. “And if we do die, we will not be cooked, we will be frozen.”

“It’s– it’s a saying.”

“Oomans… so weird.”

“But anyway! Life support is out. We’re going to freeze, Kwei.” 

“I might, but I thought oomans were good at surviving in cold?” He piled the rations on the platform in the center of the cockpit, where you’d decided to move everything of import, for it was better to try to keep just one room warm than the whole ship. 

“When we have the right tools, yeah,” you protested, but he was already out the door, letting in a blast of freezing air and snow. You hissed and curled tighter in the passenger’s seat.

Great. Juuuust great, you thought, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. Stuck on a freezing planet in a totaled ship with only two week’s worth of rations, and my only company is…

Kwei. Handsome, brave, kind Kwei, who’d stood up to his father for Dek’s safety, who’d lost an arm for Dek’s safety. Handsome, brave, kind Kwei, who despite his upbringing, welcomed anyone into Dek’s clan. Handsome, brave, kind Kwei, who could hunt like the best of them, especially with his fancy new prosthetic arm.

You shook your head rapidly. Now was not the time to be getting all dreamy about those pretty yellow eyes of his– stop! You were probably going to die here! Now was not the goddamn time to be crushing! 

Something heavy, warm, and musky-smelling dropped on top of you, turning the world dark. You sputtered and pushed it off, only to see a smug-looking Yautja standing over you. 

“Pelt. To keep warm.” He held other pelts under his prosthetic arm, all of different colors but with the same kind of hair: thick and soft and cozy warm.

“Oh. Thank you. Did you… hunt these?”

“No. They appeared out of thin air.” 

So that’s where Dek got it. 

“What animal are they from?” You asked as he sat down (criss-cross applesauce style, something you never imagined you’d see a seven-foot-tall murder alien do) in the pilot’s chair and piled the furs on top of himself. 

“Mevrals. Like… what are they? Earth animals? Bears. Like bears,” he explained. “Big. Hairy. Mean.” His mandibles twitched a little into an expression you’d come to know as a smile. “Tasty.”

“Tasty how? What do they taste like?” Your curiosity was borne of genuine hunger, but you wouldn’t admit it– those rations had to last two weeks at the least.

Kwei paused, thinking, and his jaw opened a little, as if he was imagining mevral meat on his tongue. He had a very cute thinking face, you noted. His eyebrows (eye ridges?) would furrow and he’d tilt his head a little like a dog when it hears an interesting noise.

“Mm… gamey. Tough. A little salty.” He let out a little chuffing noise. “The part that sticks out the most right now was how warm the meat was.” 

You nodded, also wanting something hot to eat to fight off the chill sinking into your skin.

The wind kicked up a little outside and the resulting shriek made you shiver. You remembered the winds howling outside your window during winter when you were a kid. The only difference was then, you were nice and safe in your warm house and might wake up to a snow day, but now, you might not wake up at all. 

“Dek will get our distress signal,” Kwei said, barely audible over the howling winds, his gaze fixed on the little long-distance transmitter sitting on the control panel that was thankfully still working. You glanced at him, wondering if he was trying to convince you or himself.

The winds outside howled louder, and it looked a little darker than it had before. “Is the sun going down?”

Kwei sat up straighter, craning his neck, his predlocs falling over his shoulders. “...I think so.” There was a growl in his tone. Both of you were in trouble, and you knew it.

“It’s going to get a lot colder,” you mumbled. Your breath was already coming in clouds. 

“I know.”

“Maybe I should start a fire?”

Kwei looked over at you and his eye ridges raised. “In here?”

“Yeah. There’s a little hole in the ceiling.” You pointed to the sizable missing chunk above you both. “We wouldn’t suffocate.” 

“What about fuel?”

Oh, yes. The most important part of a fire. What, what what… not the pelts. Paper, did you have paper? Yes! 

You reached into your backpack and pulled out your journal. It was a new one with only a few entries, meant to symbolize the fresh start you got by leaving Weyland-Yutani, so there wasn’t a great loss, but it was still unfortunate. Before you could rip out any pages, though, Kwei stood and pulled the pelt off you.

“Hey!”

“Be calm. Stand.”

You did immediately. Your obedience shocked evene you.

Kwei, meanwhile, bent and yanked the seat from where it was anchored to the floor. You stared, dumbstruck, as he placed the seat against the wall, then did the same to the pilot’s seat, muscles rippling under his thick skin. 

“Now, there is a place for the fire.” He gestured to the open space where the chairs had once been.

“Ooh. Good idea.”

You got to work starting the fire, piling up the mostly-empty pages from your journal and then using a small flint firestarter to get a blaze going. You sat back on your haunches, satisfied with your wilderness survival skills, already warmer, then turned to go snuggle up in that pelt again. Or, you were going to.

“Kwei, is that a nest?” The Yautja had piled the furs across both the seats, along with what seemed to be a thermal emergency blanket and was curled up in the middle of it, looking far cuter than he had any right to look.

“Yes. To keep warm.”

You stared at him, wondering if he was going to shuffle aside to make room for you shivering body. He didn’t. 

Ass.

“Why do you stand there? Come. It will be warmer like this.”

What.

“Come,” he repeated, yellow eyes soft in the glow of the firelight, and raised his flesh arm as if to welcome you into the pelts. 

Well, you wouldn’t wait for him to beckon a third time. You stepped forward and were immediately pulled into his arms, laying across his muscular thighs, head on his shoulder. He was so warm. 

At least, he was until he tried to wrap his prosthetic arm around you too. You yelped. “Jeez! Cold! …Sorry! But seriously, how can you still have it on? It’s like a block of ice!”

Kwei blinked, then let out a low noise. “I did not realize it was this cold. The flesh has grown numb.”

“Oh, shit,” you said. “It must be lowering your whole body temperature. You should take it off.”

“No,” he snapped suddenly, and you jerked back. “I will be vulnerable without it.”

Oh. Right. Yautja. Yikes.

“Kwei,” you started. “The planet is uninhabited. The only person who could know where we are is Dek. No one's going to hurt us. And as of right now, your arm won’t be a help, it’s only hurting you. Please, take it off, before you get even colder.

His eyes met yours and there was an odd softness in them. His mandibles twitched, as if he wanted to argue, before– “Okay, ooman.”

You leaned back as Kwei removed his arm and tucked it under some of the furs, leaving his stump bare and displaying the knot of scars there. He caught you looking and pulled a pelt over it but did not meet your gaze. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to stare.” Your cheeks, already blotchy from the cold, darkened further. “But I– I thought Yautjas are proud of their scars?”

“Proud of scars we obtain on hunts,” he replied. “Honorably.”

“But you got that scar protecting Dek. Is that not honorable?”

He blinked rapidly again as if caught off guard. “Oh. Yes.”

Kwei made no move to fix the pelt when it fell off his shoulder, you noted. But you did. You pulled the pelts tight around you both and he looked down in question.

“Can’t have you getting too chilly,” you replied, snuggling into his chest. A low, rhythmic chuffing noise escaped him– a laugh– and he placed his hand around your waist. His head drooped a little, resting on top of yours, and those pretty yellow eyes drifted closed

Before long, low snores filled the small cockpit. The noise was soothing, almost, and that plus the firelight, the warmth of Kwei’s chest, and his comforting scent made you fall asleep too, no longer worried about freezing in the night.

The two of you were woken the next morning by a crackle from the transmitter. You both traded looks and you reached out to turn up the volume.

“Kwei! Kwei! Come in, brother!” Came Dek’s voice. “We have received your signal. Thia and I shall arrive in four hours!”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

A few days later, when you were back with Dek and the others on their ship, you exited your shower in a bathrobe to see something laying on your bed. You picked it up, turning it over in your hands.

It was a journal. The cover was leather, the pages handmade, all stitched together with perfectly prepared sinew. On the first page was a note in Yuatja:

You are a very nice ooman. Nice to cuddle and to talk with. 

Your stylus hastily scribbled away on your data pad. Your feet scrunched against dead leaves and brittle branches. Your head was down, your focus elsewhere as you traced the path, marked down trees, wildlife, and among other things as you made a 3-D model of the landscape that you were traversing. You, in small terms, were a map maker and a navigator. When the company went to a new world, they would send you too, your main job being to create accurate maps for the team to use and safely navigate the terrain. Your second job was to identify wildlife. And that included both plants and animals – minerals too at times. Your third job, to live and be able to serve out your contract.

It was a sick game, you had concluded once. You had a long allotted time you needed to serve out to the company, and you would be lucky if you didn’t die during an assignment. You found your steps slowing at the thought. Your hand holding your stylus rising slightly to brush your mouth with your knuckles. You felt a shiver run along your spine.

You’ve been lucky. Lucky enough, but being sent to so many planets, it was only a matter of time before you lost your footing. Not that the company would care if you died on one of these assignments. If you died right now, they would see your death as a momentary pause in progress before sending another to replace you and hopefully recover the data you did collect before your death. Oh, and they would be mad that you hadn’t served your full contract, but, of course, what could they do to a dead man? Make your relatives (both close and distant) suffer, you suppose, but it wasn’t like you could do much about that. However, you had heard that the company made someone’s grandpa serve out the rest of a person’s contract when said person ran away and went into hiding. You pressed your lips together. The only living relative you had was your older sister, and she had served out her contract a while ago. Right now, you reckon; she is probably living on a beach with her fiancé. While you remained out of sight and out of mind.

And even though she is free from responsibilities, you wouldn’t want to put your time onto her. So you grit your teeth, and lived.

Even though living was proving harder than previously thought. You wiped a stray bead of sweat off your face as you went to sit down on a rock. As of now, the company, also known as the Weyland Yutani Corporation, had sent you to a planet covered with rainforests. It was so humid here that you had already drenched three sets of clothes with sweat alone, and getting your clothes to properly dry after washing them was a nightmare and a half.

Now, usually when someone hears of your position and mission details, they expect you to be a synth. I mean, why send a human to do such a dangerous job? The answer was a multitude of things. For one, it was cheaper, you were easy to replace, didn’t cost as much as a synth, and you had a contract to serve out. And you were terribly good at your job. You accidentally became important and good enough that you were sent to the harder planets to map out – but not important enough that the corporation cared about your wellbeing, of course.

You stretched your legs out as you continued to sit on the rock, rolled your shoulders, cracked your neck a bit. It could be worse-

You heard a branch snap, and you felt the hairs on your arms stand up – your skin erupting in goosebumps as you looked around. You stood up, took off your backpack, carefully slid your stylus and data pad into your zipper pouch before closing it back up and slinging it over your shoulders again. Another twig snapped, leaves rustled, the wind stilled. For fuck’s sake-

You turned on your heel and broke out into a dead sprint down the path you came from. Behind you was a noise, erratic breathing, with more branches snapping underweight. You didn’t dare you look back as your sole covered feet squished and sunk against barely dry mud, dirt and grime. Low hanging branches smacked you in the face, twisted vines that you previously navigated through grappled with you – threatening to entangle you, but you pulled hard as you continued running. Behind you, you could hear something grotesque and loud. Like a jaw was unhinging and getting closer to swallow you whole.

Then, your foot got caught in an uprooted old tree, the hard wood of the root catching your laces as you fell face first to the ground, the wind getting knocked right out of you as you felt the fabric of your clothes give you nasty burns on your knees and elbows.

You heard something snarl above you and you pushed yourself to roll and lie on your back, your upper body being propped up by your elbows. The thing that was chasing you was large, disgusting to look at and even worse to smell.

It’s tongue ran along it’s sharp teeth as it lunged for you. You shut your eyes tight. You did say that your luck would run out eventually, after all, you just didn’t think it would be today. Though, as soon as the thought flashed behind your eyelids, you heard another sound. One as grotesque as what the monster had made. The sound itself was hard to describe, but it was like a loud squelch. Like something sharp puncturing something squishy and wet. You flinched, your eyes still closed as something landed near your feet. Almost shakily, you opened your eyes. The monster that was chasing you was lying on the forest floor, a spear of some sort sticking through its chest as a orange liquid spilled from its mouth. You scrunched your nose up when a putrid smell hit your nose. You coughed as you covered your nose with your sleeve, “that smell is so gross,” you muttered as you went to stand up. Your eyes still on the beast that was dead on the ground – but something was off. The space in front of you looked … distorted?

You took a step forward. Your hand reaching out slowly until your fingers pressed against something solid until your whole palm was flat. Whatever invisible thing was in front of you was cold, and metal. It made you laugh, but that was impossible. The only things that you knew could be invisible and killed big beasts were-

You froze in place, your hand basically groping a hard patch of pure muscle. Uh oh.

You yanked your hand away like whatever was in front of you had burned your skin, and just as you turned on your heel to run again, your face smacked right into a spider web. You screeched loudly as you danced about. Your arms waving erratically around you as you tried to get the webbing out of your face.

“Get it off, get it off, get it off, get it off-!”

Behind you, the yautja disabled his cloak. He watched you for a moment. His scanner not picking up any sort of weapon on your person. And watching you prance around like that made his mandibles click as a sound erupted from his throat – a chuckle of sorts. The new sound itself made you pause as you hastily pulled over the silk strings from your hair and face – eyes flicking back as you saw the yautja in full view now. And when you finally got the last bits of webbing off of you, your full attention was finally back on him. Though, when he took a step forward, you took a step back.

As a navigator for the Weyland Yutani Corporation, it was your job not to cause trouble or hinder the mission in any way, and that included not dying. Especially not dying to a species you could actually communicate with. The corporation basically hammered various alien species’ languages into your head. And that included yautja.

You cleared your throat as you tried to calm your racing heart and steady your shaking hands, “thank you,” you managed to say in yautja tongue, “I hope I didn’t hinder your hunt in any way.”

You watched, with baited breath, as the yautja hunter tilted his head at you as if studying you (and maybe being a little surprised that you could speak his language). After a moment of looking you over, it huffed, another odd sound, “Not a hinder,” he ended up saying, “you were good bait.”

“Bait?!”

You didn’t mean to come off as offended, but you were, in fact, offended.

He jutted his head back to the dead thing behind him, “it had been following you for a while, waiting for you to take a rest and show exhaustion.”

“And how long have you been following it,” you dared to ask.

“Not following, tracking. I noticed you first, then it.”

You made an ‘oh’ sound as you suddenly felt stupid. You knew the planets you visited were in no way, shape, or form “safe,” but you didn’t think you would run into something like this. You jumped a little when your wrist band pinged and you brought your arm up to see a holographic message pop up.

MU/TH/UR – Status?

A message from mother… if the company finds out about the yautja here… You quickly typed out a ‘fine. Status normal.’

MU/TH/UR – Recent records show elevated heart rate and adrenaline spike.

You looked at the yautja who was still carefully watching you. ‘Ran into a spider web.’

MU/TH/UR – is that all?

‘Yes.’

MU/TH/UR – continue with navigation and map modeling.

‘Understood.’

It was probably a mistake not to tell your boss that there was a yautja on the planet, however, he did save you even if you were just bait to him.

“You are probably already aware of the others that are here,” you said as you looked back at him, staring up into his mask, “but I didn’t tell them about you… consider it as repayment for saving me, even though you weren’t actually trying to save me.”

You watched him nod before looking you over one more time and turning his back to you. His body crouched down as he examined his prey that was still twitching on the forest floor. You stood there awkwardly for a moment. He wasn’t attacking you, nor was he trying to engage in anymore conversation. Do you walk away? Continue mapping out the terrain? You thought back to your assignment and the message you got. Best continue on then. You took off your backpack once more to get your stylus and data pad out. And once you shouldered your pack again, you opened up the 3-d map you had modeled so far. If you go back up the path, you could continue where you left off.

You glanced to the crouched yautja. His back was still to you. Carefully, you moved around him. Your lips pressed into a firm line as you went to leave.

“You have a map?”

The question caught you off guard as you found yourself frozen again. Your lips pressed into a tight, thin line as the yautja stood back up. He grabbed a hold of your arm and turned you back to face him, his mask tilted down, and you reckoned he was looking at the holographic map. The details looked realistic, as if a synth had scanned the area and inputted the visuals into the data pad itself.

“One that I’m still working on, but yes.”

You could tell he was studying you again while a heavy silence hung in the air before you heard a clicking sound come from him. He turned his back to you again as he went back to tending to his kill and you released a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.