This is a Valentine’s Day Special chapter of my OC Keth'raal and his human companion 🩷 I miss Keth’raal dearly and I hope this chapter brings you some joy on this special day 🥰
“Oh… oh no,”
you mumbled, horrified at the sight of an enormous heart sitting right in the middle of your kitchen table.
It had been ten days ago when Keth’raal first noticed you casually, far too casually, looking up Valentine’s Day decorations.
You hadn’t planned on making a big deal out of it. There wouldn’t be guests anyway. Just him.
And explaining Valentine’s Day to him beforehand felt… wrong. Like it would ruin the whole point of the surprise.
So instead, you had found yourself scrolling through the internet late at night, looking for ideas that didn’t involve the usual heart-shaped everything and overpriced chocolates. Something subtle. Something different.
And yet, every single time your screen passed a heart-shaped plate, or pink confetti, or something painfully cliché, your eyes lingered.
You sighed at yourself more than once.
Hell, you even giggled at the dumb Valentine’s quotes you swore you hated.
“Roses are red, your clicks would scare my friends. But I’d still choose you, because you are the best.”
You scribbled it down on a Post-it note before you could stop yourself, sticking it on top of a book like it might escape otherwise. You stared at it for a moment, your fingernail scratching idly over the little square of yellow paper.
“Maybe I should just celebrate it normally,” you murmured to yourself.
That was when a soft creak sounded from the other side of the living room.
You snapped your head toward the sound, jolting up from the couch as panic hit you immediately. You grabbed the book you had stuck the Post-it note onto and pressed it tight to your chest, already halfway to your bedroom.
“AGH—!”
Your scream tore out of you as an invisible force caught the hem of your pajama shirt, yanking you backwards. Your feet left the floor for half a second before you crashed into a cold, solid chest, arms closing around you in an impossibly tight hug.
“Are you running away from me?”
The mechanical distortion of his helmeted voice sounded just above your head as he slowly materialized behind you. His arms draped over your shoulders, protective and heavy, while long, rubbery dreadlocks fell forward, half-burying your face.
You looked up and your heart stuttered painfully at the sight of his mask angled down at you.
“Hah,” you let out a very fake giggle.
Then you bolted.
You ducked just enough to slip out of his hold and made a break for your bedroom again—
“Oomph!”
The air left your lungs violently as you ran straight into another invisible barrier. You stumbled, nearly falling, before strong hands caught you once more. He materialized in front of you this time, fingers squeezing the fabric of your shirt as he pulled you closer, closer, until you were almost nose-to-mask.
“Na’kai.”
The word rolled out of him in a teasing, singsong tone you had never heard before. So rare and so unexpected, your eyes flew open in shock.
…or maybe excitement.
“Do you wish to be chased?” he murmured, drawing you in another inch. You could hear the faint clicking of his mandibles beneath the mask now. “I will chase you. But first you will tell me what is on that book you are holding.”
His head tilted, attention flicking to the book crushed against your chest.
A soft purr began to build in his chest, low, coaxing, almost persuasive.
Your limbs betrayed you first, going slack as your breath deepened. You leaned toward him without thinking, your forehead finally resting against the cool skin of his torso. You dragged your cheek slowly over it as you caught your breath.
Whatever that sound was, it wasn’t just a call.
It sank into you, warming your body from the inside out, tangling your thoughts until they scattered uselessly. There was only one thing left in your mind, one name echoing loud and relentless.
Keth’raal.
He was all that existed in that moment. Your focus, your need, your gravity. You wanted his hands on you again, wanted to disappear into their cold strength, breathe in that musky scent that was only his.
Your body leaned into him, already asking for more, even before you realized you had stopped trying to run at all.
“Keth’raal,” you breathed his name, your voice barely more than air as your lips pressed against his skin, right under where his heart was beating.
His grip tightened in your shirt, pulling you closer, making sure you couldn’t escape this time.
“Please, Keth’raal,” you whined, his name leaving your lips like a plea.
His body went utterly still.
His chest stopped moving altogether as you whispered his name one last time, the silence stretching so thick between you, it made your skin prickle. Then his grip loosened, one hand lifted, finding your face. His palm was cold against your skin as he cupped your cheek, tilting your head up until you had no choice but to look at him.
“Yes?”
The translator echoed softly through the mask, his thumb hovering, almost tracing circles against your cheek.
You breathed him in, eyes fluttering shut as you leaned into his touch. His other hand slid to the small of your back, drawing you closer until your sternum brushed his torso.
“You’ll never catch me,” you whispered.
And then you ducked.
You slipped out of his hold again, somehow escaping his grasp and that damn purr that threatened to melt you completely. You didn’t even know how you managed it. Only that adrenaline carried you forward as you sprinted for your bedroom.
You slammed the door shut behind you and locked it, your back sliding down the wood as laughter bubbled out of you, breathless and giddy from your little victory.
But that didn’t last long…
Keth’raal was already there.
Materializing at your side, towering over you, as if the door had never existed at all. Your eyes widened in pure shock as you scrambled to your feet, instinctively trying to bolt again.
Too late.
The door was locked. And his arms were already around you.
He grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you effortlessly over his shoulder. You burst into laughter, slapping at his back and begging him to put you down, though you both knew you were enjoying every second of it.
This was exactly what you had expected.
And you weren’t disappointed.
He tossed you onto the mattress, the bed bouncing beneath you as his hands closed around your wrists, pinning you down. You stared up at him, breathless, as he straddled you, one knee on either side of your torso, his shadow swallowing you as he leaned closer.
“You will either start talking,” he said, his raspy voice vibrating beneath the mask, grazing your ears, “or I will do the thing that brings you to tears.”
“No—no, please, not the tickling,” you squealed, already trying to squirm free, laughter building up as panic set in.
Because he knew.
He knew exactly where to press. Exactly how much. Exactly how to make you beg.
Even in play, he was a true predator, sharp, attentive, unfairly skilled. Reading you like an open book, every reaction written plainly across your body.
Almost unfair.
But not for him.
He was Keth’raal.
And in your eyes, he was so perfectly, devastatingly himself that you couldn’t deny him even this.
“Speak, Na’kai,” he encouraged, his mask resting against your forehead now as he spoke.
He knew how to do this. How to lower his voice just enough, how to make your body buzz with it. He had learned long ago, back in the lab days, how sound alone could calm you, steady your heart. And he had figured you out frighteningly fast.
But to be fair… you had done the same to him.
“Alright…” you sighed, closing your eyes and drawing in a deep breath.
“So… like Halloween. Or New Year’s Eve,” you began, your voice careful. “Humans have… more celebrations.”
You swallowed, keeping your eyes shut as if that would make it easier.
“And—” you pressed your lips together, hesitating.
You felt him shift closer instead. His mask nudging the side of your face, his breath heavy beneath it, warm enough that you almost imagined you could feel it through the metal.
“Well,” you continued quietly, “we have another one coming up soon.”
Your eyes fluttered open just as you felt his grip loosen, your wrists freed at last.
“Yeah?” he asked, curiosity obvious on his tone as his hand immediately returned to your face. His thumb settled against your bottom lip, holding it there while you looked up at him.
For a split second, the voids of his mask flashed red.
You weren’t sure if it was instinct or intention, but it made your thoughts stumble all the same.
With his thumb still resting on your lip, you spoke again.
“We sort of… celebrate love,” you murmured.
His head tilted.
“The feeling here?” His thumb traced slowly downward, from your lip to your chin, then lower, gliding over your throat until his palm settled against your chest.
You nodded.
And somehow, now that you had said it, breathing felt easier. Like the hardest part was already over.
Except…
You weren’t done yet.
“How do you celebrate love?” he asked then.
His palm spread wider over your chest, where your heart beat out of rhythm . His mask remained fixed on the rise and fall of your breathing, tracking it as his hand subtly moved with you.
“It’s silly, you don’t have to—”
“I do,” he interrupted. “Humans do it. So it’s important to you.”
“It’s not,” you chuckled, the sound small and unconvincing.
Because in all honesty… it was.
It mattered more than you wanted to admit. You had spent the whole morning looking at Valentine’s decorations, after all. You had been picturing it. Him, here, with you.
Who were you kidding?
“Fine…” you sighed, giving in at last. Being honest was a little easier than pretending again.
Besides, you never really knew when he would leave. Or when you’d see him again.
“So,” you began slowly, “we get heart-shaped decorations. We wear red, since it’s the color of love. We…” you hesitated. “…we exchange gifts.”
Your voice lowered, unsure, and your eyes refused to meet his mask.
Because there was something else. Something humans usually do on Valentine’s Day. Something you wanted, but didn’t know how to explain. Or if he would even want it.
“What else?” he asked quietly.
He had said it so calmly, as if he already knew there was more. Or maybe he was reading the way your pulse faltered, the way your breath caught when you avoided looking at him.
His palm left your chest and rose slowly to your cheek, fingers tracing your heated skin.
“You are turning red,” he observed under the mask. The translator carried the words more clearly than his voice, making you jolt.
“Does that mean you feel love?” His head tilted as he hovered over you, rubbery dreadlocks spilling over his shoulders like a river of ink.
“What?” you stuttered, your face burning now.
“You said it is the color of love,” he replied simply.
Damn it…
Every thought of his followed a clean, relentless logic. You couldn’t argue with him even if you tried, he was too precise, too thoughtful with every conclusion he reached.
“And embarrassment,” you blurted out, pressing the backs of your hands to your cheeks in a useless attempt to cool them.
“Aah.” His chest rumbled softly, the sound vibrating beneath you. “And embarrassment,” he repeated.
It sounded thoughtful.
It also sounded just a little too amused.
He slowly eased off you, finally giving you room to breathe. His hand never left yours as he helped you sit up at the edge of the bed, his grip tight. Then he lowered himself onto one knee in front of you, still holding your hand.
You couldn’t see his face, not behind the mask, but you were certain of it anyway. That cocky, wide grin. The one that always showed up when he thought he had you cornered.
You dragged a hand down your face, hoping, foolishly, that you could erase the heat in your cheeks, the frantic rhythm still drumming in your chest.
“So?” he prompted.
His thumb brushed softly over the back of your hand. You focused on that instead of his mask, suddenly far too aware of yourself to meet his gaze.
“We, uh…” You swallowed. “We show our love through touch. I guess.”
You clenched your jaw, then finally forced yourself to look at him.
He nodded once. Then again.
“How?” he asked.
Your heart kicked hard against your ribs, before it spiraled back into that wild, uncontrollable rhythm.
“It’s a human thing, you wouldn’t—”
“I learn fast,” he cut in.
There it was. The pride. You could practically see it in the way he straightened, chest subtly puffing out beneath the armor. And damn it, he wasn’t wrong. He did learn fast. Faster than anyone you had ever known.
Always adapting. Always reading you.
“Keth’raal…” you sighed. “Stop messing with me. I know you don’t want to do any of the human things—”
“Says who?”
He rose from his kneel in one smooth motion, suddenly towering over you. His armor caught the faint moonlight creeping through the window, metal shining softly in the dark. He looked even bigger like this, bigger than he ever had in the lab.
You weren’t sure you would ever get used to his true size.
His hand came down to your head, long talons gently scratching at your scalp, exactly where he knew it would make you melt. Your shoulders relaxed without you even realising it.
“Says who, Na’kai?” he repeated.
You smiled despite yourself, something shy and helpless painting your face. “Me.”
“Can I have a say in this?” he asked quietly. “Or will you pull another trick on me?”
His head tilted just slightly.
And your stomach dropped.
You knew what he meant. The lab. The lie. The moment you told him you would follow, but then shoved him out instead, forcing him to escape without you.
He would never let that go.
And if you were honest with yourself… neither would you.
“Keth’raal…” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the floor as guilt welled up in your chest.
He didn’t let it linger though.
His index finger curled beneath your chin, lifting your face gently until you were looking up at him.
“I am sorry,” he said quietly. The translator rendered the words rougher than the way they actually left him, stripped of the care in his voice.
You blinked up at him, surprised.
In all the time you had spent together, he still managed to surprise you with his gentleness.
With the way he read you without you ever needing to speak.
He felt you. How your body reacted, the way your breath changed, how your chest grew heavy whenever your thoughts drifted back to the lab. That memory never truly left you. The guilt nested there, quiet but constant, swelling around your heart no matter how much time passed.
And in that moment, he chose to apologize instead.
For bringing it up.
For even brushing against that wound, even playfully.
Keth’raal might have been an alien lifeform, born of pure violence and survival, but he was the most humane being you had ever known. Always willing to soften, to mend what hurt between you, especially in the moments that felt the most uncomfortable, the most fragile.
And that, more than anything, was what made it impossible not to love him.
“Then…” your lips turned into a small smile, “…you can have a say.”
He shifted then, moving around the bed before lowering his weight onto it. The mattress dipped beneath him (the new one you had bought after the last had very tragically not survived another incident, one you’d rather not think about right now.)
His hand patted the space beside him.
And you didn’t hesitate.
You crawled onto the bed and his arms opened for you as they always did, wordless and welcoming. You settled against him easily, your head finding its place over his chest, solid and strong beneath your cheek.
“So,” you began, voice softer now, “basically, on that day… you choose who you want to be your valentine. Someone you like a lot. You ask them, you get them a gift, something cute, or heart-shaped, and then you spend time together. Romantic time…”
You muttered the last two words, your index and middle finger tapping lightly against his stomach, firm under your touch.
He didn’t seem fazed in the slightest.
“And what does that mean for humans?” he asked.
His fingers mirrored your rhythm, tapping gently over your shoulder, talons grazing the fabric of your shirt, making your skin prickle wherever he touched.
“You know…” you said, swallowing. “We kiss and… we cuddle…”
You bit your tongue before you could say anything more.
“So you do not mate?” he asked and his fingers froze completely.
Slowly, you turned your head to look up at him, only to notice his shoulders moving. Just barely.
A low, sneaky laugh rumbled beneath the mask.
And just like that, the tension snapped between you, replaced by warmth, mischief, and that familiar, infuriating affection that only Keth’raal could pull out of you.
Your face twisted into a frown before you smacked his chest, the sound echoing in the room and that was what made him lose it.
His laughter burst free, deep and unrestrained, strange in the way it rolled from him yet endearing, muffled beneath the mask. It vibrated through his chest, through you and your irritation didn’t stand a chance against it.
The frown melted into a reluctant smile as you looked up at him, watching him enjoy himself far too much at your expense.
“Why are you asking if you already know?” you huffed, pushing at his chest.
He barely moved. Instead, he caught you and pulled you back, flattening you against him once more as if you weighed nothing at all.
“Why not?” he shot back, talons slipping into your hair, combing through it as he kept you pressed to his chest.
“So,” he continued, tone thoughtful now, “hearts. And the color red.”
It wasn’t a question, but it felt like one, as if he was double-checking the rules of this strange human ritual.
“Sounds like a ceremony of my kin,” he added with a shrug.
“And kissing,” you said, lifting your hand up to catch one of his dreadlocks where it brushed against your cheek.
“No.”
The word was quiet but demanding.
His hand closed around your wrist and you let go of the dreadlock.
“You do not touch me until that day.”
Your head snapped back in shock. “Valentine’s Day?!” you yelped. “That’s in, like, ten days!”
“Correct.” He sounded pleased. “Ten days are enough.”
Before you could even argue, his arms tightened around you one last time and then he let go.
You barely had time to process it before he straightened, grabbed his spear in one smooth motion and turned back only once.
“See you in ten days,” he said, the mask’s eyes flashing red.
And then he was gone, vanishing into thin air just how he had appeared.
“What the hell?!” you shouted after him, but the room was already empty.
You stood there for a moment, stunned.
…Well. You had never seen him this excited before.
Leaving you behind without hesitation to go, wherever it was he went when he disappeared like that.
You sighed, grabbing your phone again and scrolling with renewed determination.
“I’m getting the heart-shaped cupcake tray,” you muttered to yourself. “I don’t care.”
And ten days passed faster than you thought they ever could.
Almost every day, new packages arrived at your door, pink, red, heart-shaped, wrapped in glossy paper that screamed Valentine’s Day. Anything that looked like love, smelled like sugar, or felt vaguely ridiculous somehow ended up in your hands.
You didn’t even know if you would actually spend the day with him.
But you chose to believe you would.
And in the worst-case scenario… well. You would eat all the heart-shaped chocolates by yourself.
Had he ever even tried chocolate?
You had no idea what he would think of the decorations either.
Or your clothes.
You planned on wearing red and pink all day, colors that were definitely not you and that alone made your stomach flutter with nerves. Would he tease you? Stare too long? Pretend not to care and then care far too much?
By the morning of Valentine’s Day, your house smelled like cupcakes and warm chocolate fondue. Little heart decorations hung everywhere, subtle at first glance but unmistakable once you noticed them. On the kitchen counter sat a small heart-shaped box, on top of a handwritten letter.
The same silly quote you had come up with days ago.
You still weren’t sure what he would think of your gift. You only hoped he would understand its meaning, rather than its usefulness.
You were certain he had plenty of that vibrant, blue salve he used to treat his wounds. But this one was different.
This specific salve had saved his life.
Back in the lab, when everything went wrong and fear had driven your hands faster than your thoughts, that balm had kept him alive. It had cost you something, your hand never fully recovering, never quite able to close all the way again, but you had never once regretted it.
It was the reason he was still here.
So you took your time.
Carefully, methodically, using every proper tool you had as a biologist this time, you transferred the salve into a glass locket meant to be worn around the neck. The substance still glowed neon blue, cold and luminous, unchanged by time.
You chose a sturdy chain, thick enough not to snap easily. Something that could endure movement. Combat. Him.
Lifting the locket, you stared at it for a long moment.
The blue still shone the same way it always had, a reminder that nothing had truly changed.
And yet… everything had.
That balm no longer lived in a sterile lab or your trembling hands. Now it rested inside something delicate, something pretty.
A Valentine’s gift.
If someone had told you years ago that this would be its final purpose, you would’ve laughed.
But now, holding it between your fingers, you knew.
There was no other way it could have ended.
So the fourteenth of February was here and you could barely wait to get home.
Your shift wasn’t even that long, but it dragged on endlessly, every minute stretching thinner than the last. Because if luck was on your side, if the universe decided to be kind, Keth’raal might visit you.
On Valentine’s Day.
Keth’raal… on Valentine’s Day.
The thought alone made your cheeks heat, a smile tugging at your lips before you even realized it. One of your coworkers noticed, nudging you with a knowing grin and commenting that someone clearly had exciting Valentine’s plans.
You didn’t even bother denying it.
Your steps felt lighter on the walk home, quicker, almost impatient. Night had already fallen, the sky dark and scattered with stars and you found yourself glancing around instinctively, half-hoping, half-expecting to feel him nearby.
Your hands fumbled with the keys, excitement making you clumsy as you slid the key into the lock and twisted it open.
The kitchen lights were on.
“Oh my god,” you breathed, your smile blooming instantly, your cheeks already aching from it.
Your heart kicked up into a sprint as you hurried toward the kitchen…
And stopped.
“Oh…” you whispered, horror creeping in fast.
“Oh no…”
Your hand flew to your mouth.
Your kitchen table looked like it had been bathed in red and pink, slick, glossy, dripping on the floor. Something large lay at the center of it, heavy and wrong, and your stomach dropped as your eyes locked onto the shape.
You took a cautious step closer, your head tilting slowly as dread tightened in your chest.
It looked like a heart.
A massive, unmistakably real heart lay on your table.
“AH!” you screamed, whirling around as a hand landed on your shoulder.
“It’s me,” came his voice, soft, calm, even the vocoder gentle in its translation.
“Gosh—” you exhaled sharply, your breath shaky as you clutched at your chest. “You scared me.”
You turned to look at him, ready to ask about the massive organ lying on your table, your heart still hammering in your chest, your eardrums pulsing with it.
But you noticed his mask…
It was red.
Something thick and crimson dripped slowly down its surface and your hands snapped up to your mouth, muffling another scream before it could escape.
Oh my god. Oh my god. What have I done?
You had given him instructions for Valentine’s Day, and he had followed them far too accurately.
Red.
A heart-shaped gift.
A literal heart.
Oh my god.
You saw him tilt his head, that familiar motion he always made when you stayed silent for too long, when he was trying to read you and couldn’t.
Your eyes stayed fixed on his mask, your brows knitting together slowly.
“You don’t seem to like it,” he said at last.
The vocoder carried confusion beneath the words. Almost… disappointment.
“No, no,” you rushed out, shaking your head immediately. “It’s very—” you swallowed, glancing back at the heart on the table, then at the red still trailing down his mask, your brain short-circuiting. “It’s very… you.”
He tilted his head again, clearly not following.
“You know what?” you blurted suddenly. “This is all my fault. I am absolutely to blame.”
You stepped toward him before you could overthink it, hands grabbing onto his arms and pulling him flush against you, your own arms wrapping around his torso.
“I love it,” you said quickly, honesty tangled with disbelief. “Thank you.”
You held him tightly, your eyes squeezing shut as you forced yourself to breathe through your nose. He didn’t move while you clung to him, you were sure he wasn’t even breathing for a second.
Then a small laugh left your lips. Soft and shaky. Your face relaxed as you shook your head in disbelief, the sound turning into a quiet giggle against his chest.
“This can’t be happening,” you laughed, the words tumbling out of you.
“You’re laughing,” he said, still unsure, like this was definitely not what he had expected.
“It’s because you’re cute,” you said without thinking and his reaction was instant.
A deep rumble rolled through his chest, a low warning, like something primal and dangerous waking up in him.
“You brought me a heart?” you asked, finally looking up at him, your arms still tight around his body.
He didn’t step back.
Didn’t pull away.
He just nodded.
“It’s a huge heart,” you added faintly, glancing toward the table again.
He nodded once more, dreadlocks sliding over his shoulder with the motion, overly confident in his choice.
And even though he was three times your size, he let you squeeze him tightly, never protesting, never making a sound.
“It’s a trophy,” he said quietly.
Your eyes widened instantly.
“You hunted this thing?” Your voice lifted, excitement replacing the shock.
“Was it hard to kill?” You grinned, tilting your head up just enough to catch his mask looking down at you.
“It’s not my heart on the table,” he replied, his voice steady through the vocoder. “But it took me seven days to find it.”
“You… gifted me a heart.” you said softly. “On Valentine’s Day.”
Your smile faltered into something gentler, your brows knitting together with a bittersweet warmth.
You couldn’t quite believe it, a being like him, a menace to entire worlds, had softened. Had listened. Had taken a stupid human celebration of love and answered it in the most him way possible.
And somehow… it was perfect.
Even if it was dripping onto your floor.
That heart wasn’t just a trophy. It was a statement.
Macabre, yes — but the sheer size of it whispered something intimate, something unspoken.
This is how much you mean to me.
Your eyes lifted to his mask again as you slowly loosened your hold, but he didn’t let you drift far. His hands found you immediately, naturally drawing you back in as his arms wrapped around your shoulders, making you feel small again.
His skin carried a scent you had never noticed before, sweet, warm, alien. You nudged your nose into the inside of his elbow, where it seemed stronger.
“Red looks good on you,” he said, his throat working around the words before the translator followed.
“I can say the same for you,” you smiled.
Your index finger lifted, brushing over the rough surface of his mask, coming away stained with that red sheen. Slowly you brought it to your nose.
You could have sworn it looked like human blood, but it wasn’t. It hadn’t oxidised.
“It smells… sweet,” you murmured. “Like your skin.”
“It’s a fruit,” he explained, nodding toward the table. “From the same planet I hunted that— don’t!” His hand grabbed your wrist when you tried to taste it.
“I don’t know if it’s poisonous for you,” he scolded you, holding your hand up.
“I’m sorry,” you giggled. “It smelled too good.”
“I know,” he answered quietly.
Then he added, almost hesitantly,
“I recognized it had the sweetness humans like, so… I thought—”
Your breath hitched.
“You rubbed it on your skin?” you whispered, stunned. “On purpose?”
He had tried not only to dress in red, in his own savage, unorthodox way, but he had taken it a step further.
Perfume.
“My god…” you sighed, collapsing into his chest, burying your face there. “What am I gonna do with you?”
You hoped he wouldn’t catch the words, or the sweet desperation lingering with them.
But of course he could hear your heart, how it thundered against your ribs, loud and traitorous and desperate to be heard.
You had lost the game of hiding your feelings a long time ago.
Now you were just floating somewhere high, foolish and giddy, held together by his arms and the simple, devastating fact that he had loved you back in the only language he knew.
“I made you something too,” you said softly.
You left his arms, your steps careful as you hopped over the pool of red-pink blood staining your floor. You grabbed the heart shaped box, taking the neon blue medallion out and hurrying back to him.
He hadn’t moved an inch, simply waiting for you.
You lifted the medallion by its chain, letting it dangle in front of his mask so he could see it properly, the blue glow illuminating softly over his helmet.
“Is that…?” he hesitated.
“Yeah,” you nodded. “There was some left in the container. I had forgotten it in my lab coat. I kept it… to remember you.”
“Na’kai…”
Your given name rumbled from his chest heavily, as his hand reached for you. His thumb brushed gently over the scar on your cheek, the one that bound you together through blood and memory.
His thumb stayed there as you unbuckled the chain, lifting it carefully over his head. Your fingers grazed his nape as you tried to fasten it, the contrast between his cold skin and your flushed warmth sending a shiver through you.
His chest went still, as if he hadn’t taken a single breath since you reached for his neck.
Your fingers fumbled with the clasp, the height of him making this simple task suddenly impossible. After a few tries, you gave up, a breathless laugh escaping you as you dropped your forehead against his chest.
“I can’t do it,” you laughed softly, your fingers still resting at his neck. You could almost feel the slow, powerful pulse beneath his skin.
“Want me to help?” he murmured, so quietly even the vocoder struggled to catch it.
You shook your head, lifting your face to his mask.
“You think I can’t handle it?”
You meant it as a joke, but it came out breathless, your fingers still worrying the clasp as you stared up at him, daring him to believe you.
“Na’kai… you know I trust you.”
The syllables came out low and throaty beneath the mask, made audible only by how close you were to him. A deep purr began to build in his chest again, vibrating through his body and straight into yours.
Your lower lip caught between your teeth instinctively as your hands worked faster on the clasp, anything to finish before you completely forgot how to breathe.
“There,” you said at last, stepping back.
Relief flooded you as air finally reached your lungs again, your eyes lingering , the neon blue medallion glowing softly against the deep green of his skin, stark and beautiful.
He lifted a hand toward his chest, looking down at it, his talons clicking lightly against the glass.
“It’s like a reminder,” you said softly, voice catching just a little, “of what saved your life. And you can always have it on… you.”
The last word came out hesitant, almost broken, as you noticed him stepping closer, the way a predator moves when it doesn’t want to startle its prey.
His prosthetic arm lifted, cool metalbrushing beneath the raised line of your scar again.
The touch was careful, feather-light, tracing the old wound like it was something intimate instead of a mark of survival.
“You are my reminder,” he said, the words rumbling low from deep in his chest. “It is you who saved me.”
You blinked up at him, stunned. That simple confession hit like a quiet shockwave, unraveling you in ways you still weren’t prepared for.
Even now, after all these years of knowing him, he could undo you with just a handful of words. No flourish. No poetry. But plain honesty.
His touch lingered, the softness of it so at odds with everything else about him, his lethal, massive frame, his scars that mapped out battles won, his mandibles that could snap bone.
Yet here, with you, all of it softened. You could feel the change, the slow, conscious lowering of defenses he had carried for centuries. Like reinforced gates opening, just enough to let you in.
“Do you like it?” you whispered, fingers fidgeting with the medallion now hanging around his thick neck.
The neon blue glow caught softly against your skin, painting faint light across your knuckles.
He gave a single, slow nod. Then his massive palm settled against the back of your head, guiding you closer until your cheek rested against the cold, scarred plates of his chest.
You leaned in, breathing him in, that strange sweetness still clinging on his skin.
“So when you said ‘hearts,’” he rumbled, “you did not mean literal ones.”
There was real disappointment in his voice. His talons moved through your hair, tracing slow, absent patterns over your scalp.
You shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing out loud. A soft huff escaped him, maybe a sigh, maybe a growl, muffled slightly by the mask.
He took two steps forward, carrying you with him, your body still tucked inside the loose circle of his arms.
One hand lifted toward the ceiling, where the little heart-shaped paper lanterns swayed gently.
“Are these supposed to be the hearts?” he asked, sounding genuinely perplexed as he tapped one with the tip of his talon.
You nodded, lips pressed tight, shoulders already starting to shake.
He let out a longer, deeper sigh. The translator wasn’t needed this time, the exasperation was clear, the mild betrayal, the faintest edge of his wounded pride.
“You humans are unbelievable,” he muttered, voice booming louder under the mask, frustration making the words vibrate through his chest. “You take a perfect shape and you turn it into that?”
“So you don’t like humans?” you asked, smirking up at him, the tease obvious in your voice.
His head tilted down slowly, those glowing eyes of his mask locking onto yours.
One set of talons drifted up, brushing over the shell of your ear, tracing the curve before settling there.
“No,” he rumbled, “only my human.”
His fingers slid lower, grazing the side of your neck where your pulse fluttered beneath thin skin.
He stopped there, feeling the quick rhythm and you knew he could hear it, probably even smell the spike of heat in your blood too.
“So I’m yours?” You tilted your head just enough to challenge him, lips curving, daring him to back down.
But he didn’t. Of course not.
Instead he leaned in, the edge of his mask brushing the side of your face. Close enough now that you could hear the soft clicks and rolling guttural sounds he made beneath it, unfiltered, the real language he usually kept locked away from the translator.
“You think I would hunt down a creature and rip out its heart for any other human?” The words came out rough, but the tone underneath them was proud, sincere.
Before he could pull back, you turned your head, catching him there. Your hands rising, cupping the sides of his masked face, keeping him close.
Your lips brushed the thick, corded strands of his dreadlocks as you leaned in.
“So you’re saying I’m special to you?” you murmured, voice soft against the slick dreads.
His throat vibrated with a low, roaring sound you could easily mistake for a groan, before the translator even had a chance to catch up.
“So special,” he said, “I could take you back to my planet.”
Your fingers found one thick dreadlock, rubbing slowly along its length, feeling the strange, living texture under your touch.
“And what if I accept the invitation?” you whispered, lips still ghosting against the strands, your breath warm.
He froze for a second and then leaned closer, until his mask pressed gently against your temple.
“I’d take you right now,” he whispered back, the translator barely keeping up.
The words hung there between you, heavy and electric over your breaths.
“So I made all these preparations for nothing?!” you said, pulling back just enough to break the electric bubble that had formed around you.
Your voice came out louder than you meant, almost theatrical, like you were trying to shake off the sudden, syrupy warmth that had turned your limbs to liquid.
Your knees really had gone weak. The honesty in his earlier words still echoed in your chest, as he was asking you to go with him.
Again.
With that same steady certainty he had carried since the day you met.
“I’ll try whatever… that is,” he said, lifting one clawed hand to point at the heart-shaped tray you had just pulled from the fridge. Rows of pink-frosted cupcakes sat there like little sugar crimes against good taste. “If we indulge in the rest of your human festivities later.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious and already smirking.
“Which means?”
He tilted his head, the motion slow and purposeful, like he was choosing his next words.
“You need to teach me what humans do before the mating part.” His voice stayed nonchalant , except for the tiniest upward lilt at the end.
“Apparently they kiss. Cuddle. Share food. Stare at each other for long periods without speaking—“
“Okay—okay!” you burst out, throwing both hands up in mock surrender. You tried to laugh it off, even as heat climbed up your neck. “We do not need to narrate the entire courtship manual right now!”
He made that low sound again you knew by now was an amused sound. His broad shoulders shook once, twice and you knew.
He was enjoying this. Way too much.
Extra part 💕
“What is that thing anyway?” you asked, legs dangling off the edge of your kitchen counter as you scrubbed at the stubborn red smears on his helmet. The cloth came away streaked with vivid crimson and you wrinkled your nose at the faint, sweet-tart smell that clung to it.
“Xylos berry,” he answered. The medallion hanging against your chest hummed faintly, translating his clicks and growls into smooth, familiar words.
He sat opposite you on the other counter, too big for the space, his massive frame somehow making the whole kitchen feel smaller.
In one clawed hand he held a cupcake, turning it slowly, inspecting the swirl of pink frosting like it might bite back.
“I wanted to use red xenomorph blood,” he continued. “Finest red in the universe. Bright. Lasting.”
Your hand froze mid-swipe. “You would use xenomorph blood… so you could dress in red?”
He nodded once, content with his answer. Those green eyes of his, usually sharp enough to cut, went wide and soft for a moment, the perfect picture of innocence. Almost believable, if you didn’t know better.
“But it would melt your armor,” you pointed out, eyebrows rising.
“Exactly why I didn’t do it.” His mouth stretched into something dangerously close to a mocking grin, mandibles flexing just enough to show teeth. “You are dressed in red. I did not wish to be less festive.”
He lifted one talon and pointed it lazily at your red sweater, the gesture so absurdly humane that you had to click your tongue to cover the laugh building up. You shook your head, smiling despite yourself.
How did he do that? Sound lethal and look cute at the same time? It shouldn’t be possible. And yet here he was, several hundred pounds of muscle, scars, and killing instinct, pouting over holiday color coordination like it was a matter of honor.
“Okay, that’s the best I can do,” you said at last, setting the helmet down beside you with a soft clunk. The red was mostly gone, what remained looked more like faint berry stains than blood now. Good enough.
He slid off his perch without a sound, graceful as always, and crossed the small space between you in two slow steps.
Then he was there, settling between your dangling legs, cold armored plates pressing lightly against the insides of your thighs.
You leaned back on your hands instinctively, giving him room to crowd in, breathing in that lingering sweet scent of xylos berry still clinging to him.
“How may I repay the favor, Na’kai?” His voice dropped lower, the translator in the medallion doing the work as his actual speech sounded, raw clicks and rolling throat-sounds that vibrated straight through you.
His mandibles clicked softly, close enough now that you could feel the faint brush of them against your cheek. Warm breath ghosting over your ear.
You swallowed, pulse suddenly loud in your own ears. “I can teach you something,” you managed, the words coming out smaller than you intended.
Your gaze kept sliding—traitorously—to his mouth, to the slow flex of mandibles, the gleam of inner teeth.
He made a low, throaty sound, approval, hunger, amusement, all tangled together, and leaned in even closer.
One mandible grazed your cheekbone, his breath fanning hot against the shell of your ear.
“I’ve been told I’m a fast learner,” he whispered.
A shiver raced down your spine, your back arching slightly, out of your control.
You tried to focus on anything else, the coldness of the counter under your palms, the taste of sugar still in your mouth, the ridiculously huge heart still sitting on your table, but your eyes stayed locked on his mouth anyway, caught in the intimate rhythm of his breathing, the quiet clicks that felt like secrets meant only for you.
But you didn’t give him time to linger, to draw the moment out the way he so clearly wanted.
Instead you grabbed the chance, both hands cupping the sides of his masked face, fingers pressing into the cold, ridged edges where flesh met armor.
He made a startled, low click of surprise as you pulled him to you and pressed your lips to the soft inner curve of his mandibles.
The contact was strange and perfect all at once, warm, slightly textured skin that gave just enough under the pressure of your mouth.
You held him there for a second longer than you meant to, then pulled back just enough to watch his reaction.
His eyes, usually sharp and glowing green, had gone wide, pupils blown in what looked like genuine shock.
They darted between your eyes and your mouth, back and forth, like he was trying to solve a game that had suddenly rewritten its own rules. Speechless. Utterly, gloriously speechless.
“And that’s kissing,” you said, voice a little shaky, a little breathless. “For humans. I don’t know if you—”
You never finished the sentence.
His fingers, long, clawed and careful, threaded through your hair in one smooth motion.
He tilted your head to the side, exposing the long line of your neck. Then his head dipped and the flat of his tongue dragged slow and hot over your racing pulse.
Heat bloomed instantly over your skin, a burning trail that raced from the point of contact up toward your ear. Your breath snagged hard in your throat. Every hair on your body stood, the shiver that followed was violent, unstoppable.
His breath ghosted over the damp skin he had just marked, making the sensation loop back on itself until you were trembling in his hold.
He kept your head angled exactly where he wanted it, fingers still tangled firmly in your hair. Your eyes squeezed shut, fearing that if you open them this would vanish like smoke.
Because you had waited so long for something like this. For him.
Your heart kicked against your ribs like it needed to come out.
And beneath your palms, pressed to his chest, you could feel his own heartbeat, wilder, harder, completely out of rhythm. Like his body had forgotten how to stay calm and keep his coolness for once.
“Keth’raal?” you whispered, barely making a sound.
You were about to beg, to ask him to do it again, chase that burning line back down your neck, when movement caught your eye.
The heart.
The ridiculous, bloody trophy heart he had left on the table.
It was beating again.
Thump. Thump. THUMP.
“Keth’raal!” You shrilled his name, horrified.
His hands left you instantly, snatching up the spear that always seemed to be within reach.
In one fluid motion, he drove the blade straight through the center of the heart, pinning it to the table with brutal force. Your wooden table giving up under the impact.
“What the actual fuck?” you yelped, scrambling to pull your knees up onto the counter, hands flying to cover your eyes. “Is it dead?”
“Should be,” he growled, voice tight with irritation.
You cracked your fingers apart just in time to see it give one final, aggressive throb and then… burst.
A massive puff of deep pink dust exploded outward with a loud, cartoonish pop.
You threw your arms up to shield your face, coughing as the rosy cloud settled over everything.
The kitchen. The counters. The floor. The ceiling. Every surface suddenly looked like it belonged in a fairy-tale, a fever dream coated in soft, iridescent pink that caught the light and threw it back in tiny rainbows.
Keth’raal stood frozen in the middle of it all, spear still embedded in your ruined table, shoulders slumped, head bowed in the most defeated posture you had ever seen on him.
Pink dust clung to his dreadlocks, dusted his armor, even frosted the edges of his mandibles like some ridiculous blush.
He looked… embarrassed.
In the most human way possible.
You stared for a second longer, then the ridiculousness of it all hit you.
A helpless giggle escaped your lips. Then another. Soon you were laughing so hard your stomach hurt, sliding off the counter on wobbly legs and crossing the pink-dusted floor to him.
You wrapped both arms around his waist, or as much of it as you could reach, and pressed your cheek to the cool, now-pink plates of his chest.
He hesitated at first, before his arms came around you in return, enveloping your body gently.
“You know what’s for sure?” you said between giggles, voice muffled against him.
He made a low, questioning rumble.
“I don’t think anyone’s going to believe my Valentine’s Day story this year.”
He huffed, a defeated chuckle.
“Next year,” he murmured against the top of your head, mandibles brushing your hair, “I will hunt something that stays dead.”
You laughed harder, clinging to him in the wreckage of your kitchen, pink dust still drifting through the air like the galaxy’s most ridiculous confetti.
And yet, it felt like the best holiday you had ever had.
a/n: Oh how I missed him 🤭 he’s always been a yearner but he makes me melt in this one 🙂↕️ the way he reciprocated the kiss??? 🫠 where do I sign up for that??
What did you think of this valentine’s special? I’m so excited to see you in the comments 🩷 I missed all of you and I’ll be back with more of the boys soon 🥹
I have some weird attractions when it comes to men, honestly I thought the weirdest thing was being attracted to a Hybrid while his Hybrid visage was on display then it was masked murderers in horror movies and then I watched a Predator movie…then I watched all of the Predator movies…tell me why tf I’m attracted to Yautja?! Am I the only one? I feel like it belongs on my Hear Me Out cake or something…
WHY AM I ATTRACTED TO THESE THINGS?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!
Ohhh, thank you, my dears, for 300 followers on my Tumblr!
I'm surprised that it's going so fast! 😱😍
Today on the menu is my Yautja OC—Kalli. I came up with a scene where Kalli gets very angry after hearing someone mocking her family, especially her father and his younger sister.
Kalli is very sensitive about this and is ready to challenge anyone who dares to mock her family. Way to go, Kalli! 😍
I hope to be able to introduce more characters from my project and their stories soon. 🤩
In the meantime, let me know if you like this character. ☺️
ANKETHIA x MAK'ARHU / A DOODLE
( both characters are women, she/her !! )
a little doodle dump of some art i've done of my yautja duo, ankethia and mak'arhu! i've been working on a spec story for them that i may or may not reveal more of later.
mak’arhu and ankethia hailed from rival clans trapped in conflict over territory. ankethia had abandoned her clan seeking a life of freedom and thrill, and mak’arhu swore to her family to hunt ankethia and bring her head to their enemies to put an end to this conflict once and for all and claim what was “rightfully” theirs.
of course, mak’arhu found more than just an enemy in ankethia. ankethia introduced her to a new way of life separate from the restrictive, controlling life within her family. the rest was history.
