Yautja and Human Smol read with some witcher stuff cause I was into it back then lmao, no warnings!
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The Earth had a capacity for life. Only so many people it could house and nurture safely.
Humanity hit that threshold long before you were born.
The peace treaty between species made it possible to live among the stars. Some races were willing to share their planets, while others offered space in their ships.
'It's almost like exchange students, but for life- you'd become one of them.'
You didn't feel at home on Earth. Ever since your first breath, you had no place on that planet.
So up you went. 'Above and beyond,' or whatever they told you. Usually, humans who wanted to leave had forms filled out and uploaded to the exchange system.
If you had to call it anything, you'd describe it as 'adoption'. You, specifically, were adopted by yautjas. The deadliest species in the treaty.
You packed your bags, taking your 'goodbye pack' the government provided you with. Laptop, tablet, and other human things 'so the adaptation wouldn't be so harsh'. That's what the flyer said.
"We wish you luck and success in your new life among the stars. It's an honor to have an earthling as brave as you out there."
That's what the video said.
You sling your bag over your shoulder and pick up the government packs off the floor, walking toward the hangar in your papers. You and some others behind you get in line for admission.
Seeing yautjas wasn't new. There were videos and pictures of them plastered everywhere, just like the other species of the treaty. But still, your eyes widened from their bored expression when you saw your admits standing in front of the ship, datapads in hand.
You're first in line, walking up to them and presenting your registration. They repeat your name and information, and you confirm everything, waiting patiently.
"Welcome to the clan." One of them says, nodding at you. You nod back and make your way inside. The ship is a transport shuttle, spacious and high-tech. This was happening. It takes you a second to choose a seat and strap yourself.
The information speech you're given during the trip feels warmer and more welcoming than anything you've heard on Earth.
'Maybe this was a good decision.' You think.
"From today on, you'll be part of our society, which means no special treatment. No special conditions. No buts and ifs." He keeps talking. "Just life as a yautja in a mothership. That's all."
You appreciated the clarity and honesty they had. You expected it to be hard but weren't afraid of working for it. Whatever challenge presented itself for you, you'd beat it. You had survived this far. This wouldn't be different.
Your group gets taken to the housing levels, where each human gets assigned a room. Your eyebrows rise up when you see two grown yautjas in yours.
"Get up, Fang. Our partner is here."
Fang and Claw. Two youngsters from the clan you got accepted into. Written in bold letters at the end of your papers. "Hey," you say as they approach you at the door. "Good trip?" The other one, Fang, asks.
"Yeah, good trip," you answer. You had no idea they'd be so big. "Are you guys really my age?"
"Are you 124?"
"Oh man."
Despite their scary looks, Fang and Claw are what they are. Young. And a little stupid. You somehow felt at home with them. It was nice to be treated like a person and not a number for once.
You get installed in your bunk bed, pull out your laptop, and test the 'fastest internet connection in the galaxy' they had on the ship. A direct link to Earth, in case you want to talk to anyone.
You just wanted access to the shows.
"What's that necklace?" Claw asks. "What's in it?" You look up from your screen, then down to your chest. "It's a wolf necklace."
"Your previous clan?"
"They don't have clans, just families," Fang replies. Claw frowns in confusion, "So your previous family?"
"No, not my family-"
"That's a wolf- so Wolf clan,"
"Claw-"
"I like it," he continues. You smile at the sheer absurdity of it, "Cool to wear your symbol like that."
You laugh softly, "It's not my symbol- it's from a show, a story- the Witcher. In the story, the Witcher comes from a school whose banner is the wolf. Their symbol is the wolf," You play with the pendant between your fingers, "I don't really have a family."
They both stop to listen to you explain. Claw shakes his head, "But you wear it, so it's your symbol. Wolf human from the Witcher school. A Witcher," the word sounds weird when translated from them, clearly adapted.
"Wolf human," Fang repeats, "Nice title, sounds strong. You should keep it," he says. You huff in amusement. "Sure, I'll keep it,"
They barely return to their own unpacking before you look up again. "We should watch it," they look back at you, "- the Witcher-, we should watch it-, sometime." You clear your throat awkwardly.
"It's a filmed story? Like the ones in the human culture lessons?"
"It's called a 'movie'. Idiot."
"Shut up."
You put your hands up before any growling appears, "It's a series- actually. Short episodes that make up for one long thing. Good to watch in between, ah-, training? Missions? Whatever you guys do?"
Claw nods, "Wolf-human story with the wolf-human, I'm in." You smile and look at Fang. "Is there blood?"
"Lots of it."
"I'm in."
You watch the first season during your first night at the ship, only pausing to retrieve your food and for general discussion between the yautjas about how accurate (or stupid) the fighting scenes in the show were.
You have to plug your laptop into the adapted port on the wall so you can keep binging with your roommates, smiling ear to ear whenever they'd say something positive about it. When you finally close your laptop down, you look at them again. "So, thoughts?"
"Don't fuck with magic," Fang says. Claw nods. "Never fuck with magic."
You laugh as they each settle down in their bunks. Fang shuts the lights off as you lay in the dark for a bit more.
"Sleep well, wolf-human." Claw says. Fang mumbles something in return. You smile again, bidding them goodnight before closing your eyes to sleep.
Do you think Yautja would like motorcycles? Or would they be upset if their mate rides one? This is the current debate between my friend and I.
I think they wouldn't have a problem with it tbh
Granted there's a chance (depending which yautja we're talking about) that they'd think its an ancient thing and yk, there's better options out there than a thing with WHEELS
Others (I'm thinking about city hunter and fugitive) would probably think that's sick as fuck lmao
Like how sometimes you look at people on horses and you think they look cool even though there's sm more 'efficient' ways of going places
ALSO if we're talking about a mated yautja, you're wearing armor- as in that sturdy black plated suit for crashes. That puny ass helmet of yours ain't impressive and definitely does not offer you enough protection
I have a patron request I'm working on that talks around this and man lmao I'm having fun with it
We do it like this here - tooth-rotting fluff on one day and scathing, filthy nsfw on the other lmfao
1.3K words - NSFW Cannibal Bad Blood Yautja x Afab!Reader - WARNINGS: Kidnapping, violence, very graphic p in v nsfw, implied murder, fear of heights, panicked sex, etc.
💫This one is filthy, you've been warned💫
If you don't know who Cannibal is, it's this guy! A crazed bad blood who is also (like the name says) a damn Cannibal - enjoy!
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You had heard of accidents around town all day, a crash here, burning tires there- the police made barricades and told everyone to stay inside.
Your town was in the mountains, the houses were decently far off and at the moment, that made you nervous. If there was a freak on the loose, you had to be careful.
Following the police's instructions, you locked all doors and windows while your coffee was brewed in the kitchen. You would not be sleeping tonight.
You texted your friends, hoping someone would have an answer when you heard crashing outside. Gasping and walking over the window, the heavy thumps barely reach your ears before a huge blur breaks through the glass.
Thrown to the floor along with the debris from your wrecked wall, you scream as you're picked up again, being held up by your shirt. Your eyes focus on the scariest thing you have ever seen in your life.
It flares its teeth and roars in your face as you scream back in sheer panic, thrashing hard and gripping its hand.
Its claws grip and tear your pant legs into shorts, ripping pieces of fabric as it hissed and snarled, getting closer to your crotch. When it holds your belt line, there's shooting outside. Bullets break through the remnants of the glass and wood before the thing is running off-
With you.
In the frantic running and moving, you hear bullets whizzing past you, screaming and crying as your heart hammers against your chest. Half naked and kidnapped by a monster was not how you thought this day would end.
It's not long until the creature manages to dodge the police, running deeper and deeper into the woods with you. It was big, bigger than any man you met. It smelled of death, blood, and gore. The way it gripped your thigh and tore your pants told you very clearly of its intentions with you. And fuck if it didn't make you scared, squeezing your legs together as it carried you away from any help you could get.
It flings you over its shoulder as it jumps up a thick tree, the bones of its armor poke and scratch your hips as one of its huge hands grip your ass tightly. It sends a shameful twist up and down your spine before ending on your cunt.
It hisses harder like it knows what you're feeling. You squeeze your legs together again and that earns you a hard slap on your behind, making you yell out as it jumps to another thicker oak tree, throwing you on one of its branches.
You hug the branch for your dear life, shaking and trembling as you look below. Several feet in the air, at the top of your town's mountain. You hear metal buckling before you're dragged back again. Your nails dig into the tree bark before one of its hands grips the back of your neck, pressing your face against the wood as it positions itself behind you. The rest of your pants get ripped off with a single pull.
Your heart hammers and your adrenaline is high- you're scared and you're also horny. How? You didn't know. But as soon as your hips are pulled back against what could only be the monster's cock, you feel a delicious shudder go through you. It snarls and pushes in at once, not giving you any time before it starts harshly pounding you into the wood.
Your moans are loud and desperate as its thirsts are quick and deep. Its hips snap against yours at such speed that the back of your thighs hurt from the slapping. Behind you, the monster snarls and roars, pressing against you so hard your spine bent painfully as its cock stroked the deepest parts of you.
Your grip on the branch does not falter one second, knowing if you let go, you could fall from the sheer force of his thrusts. You yell out multiple times, muffled by the monster's own groaning before it changes tactics.
The hand on your neck switches to your throat, circling around you before gripping tightly and hauling you up, tearing your arms from around the branch. You yell in fear of falling as it crouches, leaning against the tree trunk and continuing to fuck into you as your hands try to grab anything to secure yourself.
Your eyes roll back into your skull as the impact of his thrusts gets quicker, and stronger before he slams you down on himself, roaring loud enough to make your ears ring and deafen briefly before he explodes inside of you. Hot, long surges of liquid gush inside your walls as you twitch and squirm in its grasp, struggling to breathe as you feel yourself spasming in your own orgasm.
Your vision blurs before you are moved again, barely aware of the change of view. The top of the trees are now the bottom of them. The sky is now the forest floor as you're dragged away once more.
You think you can hear yelling in the distance before the thumping steps of the monster gripping you turn faster. You pass out for God knows how long before you're violently shaken awake again.
This time, you're at a small makeshift camp, it seems. There's a fire, even though it doesn't look like a normal one. There's also blood. A lot of blood. The look in its eyes is crazed even when it's resting.
'It -is- crazy,' you think.
You're still naked from your waist down, still sticky with his…
He snarls and gets your attention again. His crotch armor is also gone. You finally have a look at the cock that made you pass out from pleasure who knows how long ago. It's ridged, long, and thick.
And hard. Again.
He gets up and your belly coils with anticipation once more. You had no idea this side of you existed before.
This time, he's having you belly up, he decides. You spread your legs and he pulls your thighs to him, leaning forward on his knees as he had before. The sliding-in is easier this time. Your sensitive insides curl around him just as tightly as before as he hisses and begins thrusting again. Quick and deep, like he liked to do.
Quick and deep, like he drove you mad on his cock. Mad like him. Insane with pleasure.
You moan, getting pounded into the grassy patch as he grunts and snarls on top of you. You wrap your legs around his hips, and he rewards you by gripping your throat again, squeezing just enough for you to stay alert.
You gasp and sob as the impact shakes you to your core. Being so big, his face isn't close to yours. You face his chest, finally noticing the most curious aspect about him- The rings dangling from his pecs.
You blush harder and will your hands to rest his abs. When he doesn't react, still thrusting deep in your cunt, you pull them up to his chest, squeezing the pecs in your hands, feeling the cold metal of the rings press against your palms.
He shudders and hisses, snapping his head down to look at you. His pupils just about disappear in his eyes as the grip on your throat tightens.
You cough and sputter, closing your hands tighter in fear as he chuckles darkly and loosens his grip a tiny bit. He comes abruptly, slamming in again as you scream underneath him. You squirm hard, trembling legs tightening around his hips as he picks up his pace again, not giving you a break at all.
The wet slapping sounds make you blush hard again, closing your eyes tightly and submitting to the most pleasurable torture of your life.
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If you made it here, you're still alive, good! Remember to breathe lmao
*Looks around* Well hello lmao what a better way to return than posting a THICK ass fic huh
8K words - Warnings for getting trapped, small spaces, and everything that comes with it + general trauma + injury - Gender-neutral reader
Enjoy! <3
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You often put others' needs before your own.
Not that you noticed you did it. It took some pointing out from your close friends to get you to realize just how you swept your desires under the rug.
After god knows how much pushing, you agreed to go on a trip by yourself. "No work worries, no guys, no girls, just you and your alone time!" Your friend had said.
You sat in your living room with your laptop, browsing through destinations and flight tickets. Everyone seemed eager to see you go on the trip. At least, you hoped it was that. While you loved your friends, you worried that if you were not helpful somehow, they would drop you cold.
Were they happy for you or happy to see you go? You didn't know, but the trip could help that too. You wanted to be more independent, sure, and in tune with yourself.
Your eyes stop on an ad, and immediately you click it.
Skiing in the Rocky Mountains.
You smile. The cool crisp air may do you some good.
You book the ticket and the hotel for your stay, and as the week goes by, you pack your bags. You had gone on other trips throughout your life, of course, but this one felt a little different. Maybe because it'd be your first alone adventure in a long time, but whatever it was, you felt good about it.
The day before the trip, you say goodbye to your friends and head back to your house. Only 7 hours of sleep and a couple more of flight separated you from snow and, hopefully, a lot of fun.
The trip is easy enough. You get to your room at the hotel and unpack just enough to start exploring as soon as you could.
Groups of people gathered at the tourist stops choosing what they would be doing and booking activities for the day. Just as you reach the board, the ski equipment is fully booked for the day already.
You frown as a lady beside you nods. "Yup, all gone! I'm pissed as fuck too! You either bring your own or get here at the butt of the morning to rent equipment." She sighs. "I'm going on a hike. Make sure to leave your name in the equipment call, though. If somebody gives up, they should give you preference, it seems." She shrugs.
You nod, perking up and signing your name with the clerk's list, looking back at the girl again, "what hike did you choose?"
"Me? One of the easy ones, that one-," she points at the boards again. The list still had some spots left, "It's the longest of the easy ones, though. Thinking about joining?"
You nod, "Yeah, it's only my first day here. It sounds good enough for a first day," you say, picking up the pen and putting down your info on the list. The group would depart in 30 minutes, enough time to prepare for it.
"Nice! I'll see you at the meeting point later then!" She smiles and walks off. You smile at the clerk and head back to your room to pack your bag for the hike.
You pack your backpack with energy bars, the biggest water bottle you could find, the emergency first aid kit one of your friends gifted you, a hiking map you bought in the reception, a small emergency light, an emergency bivy, and an emergency blanket, just in case.
On your way down, you buy two sandwiches from a machine, along with a soup-filled thermos, stuffing them in your backpack before heading to the meeting spot.
You look around, searching for the lady you talked to earlier, wondering if she would make it in time.
She arrives 2 minutes before your departure, panting a bit but smiling at you, waving as she walks over. "Hey there, ready to freeze up there?"
"Definitely not." You two laugh as your guide speaks up, stating the hike rules and emergency tips. "And lastly, do not go anywhere alone. The hike is easy, but don't underestimate it! Safety is in numbers, always. Now, with all of that said, let's get hiking!"
The way up is slow. People chat quietly while they walk, taking pictures and generally marveling about the views, you included.
The wind is ice cold and makes your lungs feel a bit prickly when you breathe. Your cheeks are cold, a reminder that you were really there, enjoying a hike on a trip you made on your own. It makes you smile.
You're halfway up when your newfound friend approaches you again.
"So, you came by yourself?" The girl asks. You nod, "yeah, I thought I would do something different…what about you?"
"I travel alone all the time. First time here, though!" She smiles, "After I started going places alone, I just couldn't stop. It's way easier." She says. The guide announces your first stop to rest is just up ahead.
As most of the group sits down to eat and drink, you and your friend sit on a fallen log at the edge of the trail. You pull out one of your bars while she takes a few swigs of her water bottle.
You're laughing at her jokes when a crack calls your attention toward the trees. You turn around to look, staring intently at the trees. Your friend’s gaze switches from you to the trees multiple times, “Bestie? You good?”
“Did you hear anything?” You ask her, still searching. The chatter from the rest of the group dies down as you strain to hear anything from the trees again. “It’s probably a squirrel or something.” She shrugs.
“I think that was too heavy to be a squirrel.” You say, hearing it again as you get up from the log, picking up your backpack. She does the same, “Okay….maybe it’s a huge squirrel or a deer?” She says, starting to sound worried as well.
The cracking sounds get louder and more violent before a strong gust of wind hits both of you. A big thundering sound follows it. You realize what’s happening all too late.
“Avalanche! Run!”
You both scream and make for it. The snow comes crashing down through the trees as you and your friend sprint through the trail, trying to catch up with the rest of the group. You look at the snow for a fraction of a second and slip.
You fall to the ground. You can barely hear any screaming over the falling snow’s booming noise. You scream and try getting up again, putting your hands up to shield yourself from the snow.
Another sound hits your ears before a blur launches itself toward you. The sound is blood-curdling, bone-chilling, roaring as loud as the snow coming for you. You feel the impact of said thing against your body, throwing you both off the edge. You hold onto it, whatever it was. Screaming and closing your eyes as you both flew over the edge.
He had seen it coming, of course. While his brothers and sisters went for the hottest countries on whatever planet they landed in. He loved the snow. He had over two centuries of experience with it.
He saw it coming.
You are as light as he thought you would be. He holds you and your backpack against his chest as you fall off the snowy ledge. The cord of his wrist gauntlet catches against the stone. He snaps it off as you both get launched into the cave underneath the ledge.
He lands hard on his feet, setting you down unceremoniously on the ground before rushing back to the cave entrance. The snow rages violently over as it falls from the edge, washing over anything in its way. He had been using this cave for a few days now. He knew this could happen. Would happen.
Still, he needed to close the entrance.
The snow piles and pushes inside the cave. He aims his blaster toward the entrance’s ceiling and shoots, jumping over to your side as the stones crash down, stopping the snow from burying you both alive as he shields your body from the falling rocks.
It’s too much. You cry and scream while keeping your face on the floor, hands shielding your head as the booming noises of cracking trees, snow, and falling rocks make your heart pound in every which way inside your ribcage. You get dragged closer by the man who saved you, and you hug the thigh he was crouching on the ground with, sobbing into it as you wait for the nightmare to be over.
It feels like hours. It probably is hours long until the wreckage comes to a stop. You still hear the avalanche layers settling on top of the cave and its would-be entrance. The cave is pitch black. You can’t see a palm in front of your face. All you hear is your ragged breathing and the man’s -somehow- calm one. His is heavier, although slower than yours. he was big, you were sure he was from the blur you saw standing there before the rocks fell. His breathing had a dragging sound to it, a soft ‘ch ch ch’ that made your hairs stand on end. Oh God, what if he was asthmatic?
“I- I think we’re okay now-” You say. He doesn’t reply. “Sir, are you hurt? Oh God-” You panic, patting around the floor for your bag, scooting away from him until you find it. “I’ve got a light in here. God, I hope it’s not broken!” You take a deep breath and try to remember where you placed it, counting the small bags on the front before reaching the fourth one. You pull its zip and reach for the light. The thick, now wet, gloves you wear make the metal almost slip from your grasp.
“Please turn on, please turn on,” You pray as you push the button, successfully illuminating the wall in front of you. “Yes! Okay, now we can-” You turn around, looking for the man,
Finding something else entirely.
It’s bigger than any man you’ve ever known in your life. Its skin is of a blueish hue with black mottling. It has protrusions that remind you of a hedgehog’s quills up its forearms, chest, and the sides of its face. It wore a mask along with dense-looking armor that looked battle-worn. Its chest heaved the same slow and steady breathing, making the quills drag against the black netting it wore.
Your pupils dilate in dread as you perceive it whole. Your body freezes. Your breath hitches.
And you faint.
The light falls from your hand as your body hits the floor. Your backpack acts as a hard pillow as the world darkens and comes to a stop.
He watches as you turn into stone and pass out on your equipment, and only then does he move toward you. He grabs the small light you produced from your pack and turns it off with the click of a button, careful not to break it. He did not need light, not as long as he had his mask (even if he didn’t, if he was honest), and not as long as you were unconscious.
‘Might as well save its power.’ He thinks.
He takes a quick check over your form. Bruising was sure to occur. Your ankle was sprained, also expected. All in all, everything is fine. He’s glad about that.
Now, for air.
He stands up and walks to the entrance again. While it wasn’t safe to leave the cave while the layers were still loose, and with the temperatures dropping outside, your chances of survival were low, even if his weren’t. But being wholly shut in wouldn’t do either, especially with your panicked breath. Screaming requires air. Lots of it.
He stretches his palm over the cold stone, feeling around. A few well-placed holes would do well enough. Stepping back, his aim shines over the stone once more.
Adjusting the width of each blast, he lasers perfect circles scattered on the wall. The snow outside melts, and fresh, cold air drifts in through the holes before more snow covers them once more. He reaches for his back pocket, retrieving several silver rings, and places them into the holes in the stone. Adjusting the desired length of each ring before pressing a button, he watches the holograms expand on his gauntlet until they surpass the snow outside. He checks each tube, satisfied when air flows steadily through all of them.
He turns back to you and walks over.
He couldn’t say what made him save you. He had been hunting in the mountains. He did see you and your group going up. But why did he risk himself to save you? He didn’t know. He found himself clutching the tree he was perched on when the snow went down, even though he would have been safe. He leaped before you fell to your knees in the snow.
Crouching down, he takes a second to look at your face.
You groan, and he sits down, moving back to give you some space. You look around, seeing the thin light streaks coming from the wall. You look a bit to the side and squint, spotting the one figure you hoped was a dream.
A scream rips from your throat as you panic once more, almost crushing your light in the process. You back up into the nearest wall and point your light at him, turning it on again. “What are you?! What-!”
It’s a strange creature, half man and half… something else. You had no idea what.
He lifts his hands up, and you grasp your light firmly as if it were a gun. “Don’t move-! Stay there! Who are you? What do you want?!” You ask. Demand.
You hear audio shuffling before a distorted, “Easy…- Easy…” reaches your ears. You recognize the voice. Your instructor, the line spoken to the whole group while going through a particularly slippery part of the trail that morning. “What-...What are you? You’re not a man-, who are you?” You ask desperately.
He shakes his head, and you want to cry harder, though he didn’t answer your second question. “Am I dead?” You sob. He shakes his head again and slowly points to the door.
You sniffle, not peeling your eyes from him. “Are you going to hurt me? Please don’t-” He doesn’t reply, slowly lowering his hands again. You start to get nervous again before he points to the corner of the cave. Hesitantly, you cast the light to it, seeing the glint of the metal-like cord he had used to save you both. Your eyes widen as you try to remember the quick flashes of the occurred. You fell. The snow was coming. Something caught you, held you, and you fell over the edge. The light moves back to his form. “It was you-, so you saved me, okay-, but why?”
Again, no reply.
The tears form cold, stiff streaks on your cheeks as you try to wipe them with the back of your gloves. You look around the cave. It wasn’t that big. You doubted you could stand up fully inside it, let alone someone as big as your…new friend. He had taken care of the air supply, but you weren’t properly trained for this. You feared you wouldn’t last until the morning. Not like this.
“You-, you made the holes in the walls, right? Can’t you get us out?” You ask him. He shakes his head. “Safer-...Here.”
“How is it safer here? We’re buried to our necks in-...Snow.” He nods.
“Snow is a good insulator, right?” He nods again. “Right…So you’ll get us out in the morning?” He doesn’t reply. “I’ll take that as a hopeful yes.” You say, setting your light down in the middle of the cave, pointing at the ceiling, illuminating the space the best it could.
You open your backpack and set to planning your night here. You see your phone and gasp, trying to get it. No signal.
You sigh as you look at the rest of your pack. You had your blanket, emergency bivy, and food and water were also fine. Nothing got broken during your rescue, thankfully.
You take a look at your companion to find him also going through his own pack, though his equipment looked far different than yours. They almost seemed like…weapons.
Oh, God.
“Do you come here often?” You ask. His head snaps at you. You freeze.
He shakes his head, and you sigh in relief. “You don’t…hunt people, right?”
He keeps staring. You wish you hadn’t asked. “Innocent people? You hunt innocent people?” Perhaps it was the trauma, the ice, the pain, or the sheer chaos of the situation you found yourself in. But judging an alien creature wasn’t as impossible as you thought it’d be.
“Hunters- -Like me.” His mask croaks.
Your eyebrows shoot up. “You hunt…other hunters? Human ones or, like, -really- like you? People like you?”
“-Like me.” He repeats.
“Your own species? Like a cop?”
A few seconds pass before you hear your own voice. “Like a cop.” Your eyes widen more. “So you’re a space cop, got it…Then what are you doing here on Earth? And in the -snow- of all places?”
A strange sound comes from him. A scoff.
“Vaca̶̤͔͚͌̃͝ͅtion timee̷̛͖̬͙̞̞̯͙͉͓̓́̈́̀̚e̴̛̞͎͆̀͂̉̎̂͘̕͠͝e-” A young girl’s voice followed by laughter.
You find yourself laughing nervously at the audio. A soft laugh that makes him tilt his head slightly. “Me too.” You say, “Ironically enough.”
You set out your equipment in silence before you unwrap your first sandwich. You look at your watch. 3 PM. Nice time to have a heavier snack, then you could eat the bars until the night and then eat your soup. And you’d still have your second sandwich!
Your…second sandwich.
“Hey.” You look at him again. He looks up from organizing his gear. “Do you have any food in that pack of yours? I have an extra one here.” You lift the wrapped sandwich to show him.
He seems to consider before giving you a dismissive hand gesture, going back to his fiddling.
“I have plenty here,” You say. “I don’t think…someone as big as you shouldn’t go too long without eating something.” He looks at you again. His mask moves slightly. You weren’t sure if he was really looking at your hand or not.
“It’s just a turkey sandwich, are you vegetarian?” You ask, worried, for some reason. He makes a strange sound. Clicking and huffing came from his mask. Was he laughing?
“Look, to me, you’re a carnivore -at least- but I can’t be too sure, right? You’re the first…alien I know.”
He shakes his head. “Not-, Vegetarian.”
You nod, digging around your backpack for the other sandwich before tossing it to him. The speed with which he catches it is impressive enough. You blink, and his hand moves from the ground to beside his mask, catching the sandwich.
He eyes it as you eat your own. For a second, you wonder if he’s allergic to anything in it. You’re about to ask when he moves again, sitting with his back turned to you.
You frown in confusion as he sets the sandwich down on his thigh before starting to take the mask off.
Each pop it makes has your eyes widening impossibly more. With everything that happened, you forgot the mask wasn't his -face-.
He sets the mask down, its impassive expression staring at you from the floor while he picks up the sandwich again, unwrapping it.
You wondered what he looked like without it. It felt too rude to ask. Maybe he wanted to remain anonymous from you.
Maybe the light hurt his eyes. Maybe he didn’t want to scare you.
Maybe he was just -shy-.
The clicking sound- now much louder and clear, calls your attention back to reality. You watch as he apparently throws the whole sandwich into his mouth, if he really had one, and swallows it whole.
If he chewed it, you didn’t hear it. But you do hear the biggest ‘gulp’ of your life coming from him.
You jump a little bit when he picks up the mask again, snapping the tubes back on and turning around again.
You finish eating your own food and put the trash in your bag. "I need something I can…call you- you know, other than alien? That feels rude.”
He shakes his head, and you lick your cold lips in thought. “How does Storm sound? I don’t think ‘Avalanche’ is any good.” You shrug, taking a swig from your water bottle. “I don’t think I should mention this to anyone, right?”
He nods. You purse your lips again, “Look- I know the less contact between us the better, and I definitely shouldn't be asking these questions- but if I don't talk I think I'll go insane."
Storm crosses his arms, seemingly in thought before he says a simple, firm, "Yes."
"...Are there more alien species? Do you know them? Seen any?"
"Yes. -Yes….Yes."
"Wow." You whisper to yourself. "You're the most amazing and intense thing that ever happened to me…besides the avalanche, of course."
He relaxes, shifting a bit to sit against the stone wall. You do the same, resting against your pack. "Our government must know of you- are we friends? Our people?"
He shakes his head. You sag. "Oh…that sucks" Storm tilts his head, and a series of cut audios gather your attention again. "Government- sucks."
You laugh. His shoulders shake slightly. Maybe he was laughing as well?
"This wasn't what I had in mind when I came here, but I'm glad you're here. Thank you for saving me," you say. He stares at you before nodding slowly.
You smile and look at his pack on the floor, "Hey, do you have water? I have some if you want." He shakes his head and pulls out a metal bottle from one of the pouches on his back. A canteen?
“Do you want to lay out our things? We could see what we have and how we’re going to split it until tomorrow. I know the first rule is overpacking is good but…I don’t reeeally have that much,” you let out a nervous laugh.
He takes a second and stands on his knees. He is almost as tall as you'd be standing like that. He gathers his pack and throws it closer to you while he moves over.
You stare at him for a couple of seconds before the mask slowly turns to you. “Oh-, right, sorry- you’re just- okay never mind- So, I got my light, of course-, I got some energy bars, water, a map, a bivy, a blanket, a knife, a little emergency kit, and soup! Well-, more food if you can’t translate that.” You hold up the thermos like it was a prized trophy, "what do you got?"
He starts laying his own things out.
A dagger, cuffs of some kind, knives, a -whip-, the canteen he had shown you earlier, mini orbs that suspiciously looked like smoke bombs from movies, plus other things- probably weapons too, you had no idea the use of. And last, but not least, he offers you a jar.
You put yours down and hold his. The lid is not nearly as simple as yours, it has a mechanism on top of it. You frown in confusion before he snorts and presses two buttons on top of it.
The lid fizzes, and you gasp, looking up at him. He nods, and you slowly take it off, placing it on top of your blanket. The smell hits your nose, and you look at him again. "Jerky? Oh my God-, can I?" He nods.
You carefully take a strip of meat from the jar. "What kind of meat is this? This isn't…human, right?" You gulp. He shakes his head and lifts his wrist. His gauntlet shows a hologram of a deer.
"Ohhhh, wow, you're really a hunter, aren't you?" You marvel, putting the strip back in the jar before closing it again. Storm taps the same buttons, and it seals tight again.
You place the jar on the floor along with everything else. The contrast between your equipment and his is stark. You laugh a bit. "Well, aren't we made for each other?" He snorts as you check your watch.
You look up and find his mask very close to you, also looking at your watch. "It's not as fancy as yours," you laugh, holding your wrist up for him to see.
Being this close, you feel your face heat up. You look down at his torso when he gently grabs your wrist, inspecting it closer. "You- are you not um- cold? You're not exactly ah…layered up."
He did wear some fur around his shoulders and waist, but other than that, only the netting and some armor. He does the clicking sound again- chuckling?
The hand on your wrist firms it while the other pops your glove open, pulling it up and off your hand. You jerk a bit when he pulls the naked hand to his chest. "Oh- what-...Oh."
Hot. He is hot. Literally.
You can't tell if the netting is heated or if he's just a furnace. But he's incredibly warm. Your fingers twitch as you concentrate on the feel of his skin. It wasn't like yours, that was for sure. It was almost rubbery, and hot but texturized as well. It was…well, alien. The prickly quills he had also were interesting to stare at.
What a Tarzan moment.
You take your hand back, putting your glove on again, "I'm jealous of that temperature. Even with all these layers, I'm still cold," you frown, "your planet must be scorching hot," you say.
He takes a while but nods.
He didn't exactly like sharing information, you learned. It was fair, he saved you- and he was an alien. Things were complicated. "I think you look great here though, in the snow," The glove feels cold compared to what you just experienced.
He scoffs, crossing his arms as you think about the events of today over and over again before looking at him once more. "Do you have any family?" The question hits you like a train and blurts out of your mouth before you could filter it. "I mean- if you can tell me."
He nods, and your eyebrows go up in surprise. Not that you thought he wouldn't have one. He had a belly button, so he couldn't have just…spawned from somewhere. You smile at the mental image of him just popping into existence.
You look back at your equipment, especially at the food. "Look, I know we're on 'not too much involvement' thing, but you don't have to turn away every time to eat. I won't tell anyone- though I'm sure the government must have blurry pictures of others like you in their archives somewhere already."
He's closer to you than before, having not moved away since your little touching moment. His presence is as grounding as it is exciting. It makes you alert and awake, even though you're so tired.
Storm's mask turns to you slightly, considering.
"Scary."
You frown. "Scary? Your face is scary? But your mask is so…familiar? Is it too different from it?"
He nods again.
"Oh- well, I won't be afraid of you, you saved my life, and now we're here chatting and having an icy picnic covered in snow. I'd say this makes us best friends." You smile. He huffed.
What he does instead is lift his wrist gauntlet again. Another hologram pops up.
"Ohhhhh my-" You look back up at his mask. Its cold expression almost mocks you. "Okay, you weren't lying when you said it was different- why do you guys make it like that? You know what- that's none of my business, sorry." You look back at the hologram.
While you didn't know if it was really him- the hologram was all red-, the way their faces were just…made sense. The tusks, the teeth, the mandibles. You marvel at the quills on the eyebrows, just like they were on the rest of him.
Something must have been wrong with you, but you didn't think he was ugly.
"I get the scary part. I'd freak out if I saw you in the dark, no offense." He chuckles deeply, the most you've seen him laugh so far. You smile again. "Thanks for showing me, now I won't pass out on you again if you take it off." He shuts it off. You almost made a sad noise at it.
Suddenly, all the excitement takes a toll on you. With your last burning curiosity sated, your eyes begin to get heavier. "Okay, I think the adrenaline is starting to wear off." You say. "I think I'm going to sleep a bit."
He gets up, checking the air supply tubes in the stone. You worm your way into your bivy, leaving the blanket for him if he needs it. He probably wouldn't, but the thought eased you. "Wake me up if anything changes okay?" You say. He doesn't react. You take a painkiller and lay down again.
"...and please don't leave me here alone." You say, with a little more emotion than you anticipated.
He turns his head and nods before going back to his inspection.
You close your eyes for a second.
Just a second.
You jolt awake when a hand closes around your shoulder. You blink several times, breathing in deeply as you focus on the mask before you again. "Hey- anything changed?"
Storm shakes his head, pointing at your watch instead as you sit up. You check the time. 7:15 PM. Your ice cave definitely feels colder now.
You get up, taking your soup thermos out of the bag. Its lid made for a little bowl. You prayed it was still warm.
You sigh in relief as you pour the soup on the lid. It was lukewarm, but the warmth spreading through your torso was priceless. You're on your second sip when you hear the same fizzy noise as before. Your eyes darted to your side where Storm was taking his mask off.
You gulp as the second tube is snapped off. He's facing forward as he's sitting beside you. But still, you would see it.
You tip the cup back as you swallow your third sip, hoping the thick plastic would disguise your blatant staring.
Storm's fingers slip under the metal, snapping it briefly before lifting it from his face. Your breath quickens quietly as your eyes follow the metal until it's placed on the floor. You stare at it before slowly looking back up.
Storm is looking at you.
Your eyes dilate as you take in every aspect of his face. The mandibles, the tusks, the sharp teeth peeking from behind tightly closed tusks. The blue hue from his body painted his face, fading into a cool white tone in the middle of his face. The edges of his head are shaped like a crown. A black crown that closed into the middle of his head, where the blues and whites were.
And then the eyes. His eyes.
Unlike the rest of him, Storm’s eyes were yellow. Deep, electric yellow. The primal instinct in your brain told you this was wrong. His face was wrong. Well, he wasn’t human. You were coded to think anything with different features walking on two legs was weird.
Your brain told you to run, scream or get help, to do something -against- him while the rest of you knew well that he was an ally. It was hard to go against every fiber of your being and stay still.
‘He’s still your friend.’ You think. ‘He just looks a little different.’
Storm’s expression changes, and while you can’t grasp what the tusk movements must mean yet, you surely know what a skeptical eyebrow raise looks like. “I’m not freaking out, I swear.” You manage to say. You have no idea if he still understands you without the mask.
He seems to, as his top tusks twitch and his eyebrows relax. He looks away and grips his own jerky jar. You’re suddenly reminded of your soup. You pour more soup onto the lid, gulping it down while trying your best not to openly stare at him.
It’s evident he’s also trying to ignore you while he eats. His tusks part and he inserts the chunks of jerky in. You can’t see any molars in your ogling. Maybe he was made for tearing out chunks of food and swallowing them like a crocodile?
You gulp down more of your soup until it’s down to half of it. You shake the thermos a bit, doing your best to stir the soup before leaning it toward him. “Would you like some?” To your surprise, he’s also offering you his jar. You smile, nodding, “Let’s swap.”
You trade bottles, picking out a piece of jerky while he brings the thermos closer to his mouth. He didn’t have an apparent nose, but maybe he just smelled things differently. He must have deemed it good enough for his mandible part, and he tips his head back, drinking the soup. You half expected it to spill over and make a mess, but having done this for however long he had lived, he knew what he was doing.
You, on the other side, had no idea what you’d do without your lips.
After eating your fill and re-packing, you huddle close to him. Storm messed with his wrist gauntlet as you lost yourself in your thoughts once more. For once in your life, the silence was comfortable. Sure, you couldn’t exactly communicate, but that didn’t feel like a problem.
You could communicate with your friends and family, but it still made you anxious at times. Next time you check your watch, it's about 9 PM. “I think we should sleep,” you say, getting his attention once more. “I’ve slept a bit and…fainted, but you haven’t slept yet.”
Seeing him without the mask was as otherworldly as it was interesting. Seeing his expressions as he listened to you, then changing while he thought before finally setting as he nodded.
You smile and crawl back to your bivy while he checks the air supply once more. You had no idea how you would get out of the cave tomorrow, but you trusted Storm and his high-tech equipment. And his muscles. The muscles were a big plus, too.
By the time he turns around, you’re inside your bivy, but you point to the blanket folded neatly on top of your backpack. “I know you’re well warm, but the blanket is over there if you need it.” He looks at it briefly before nodding at you. He hands you your emergency light and lays down on the opposite side of the cave, about two arm's lengths away from you.
“Good night, partner.” You say before shutting the light off, getting a grunt in return.
The cave was pitch black as you expected. You shuffle a bit in your bivy before settling down completely on your side. You wondered how people outside were doing. Did the avalanche make the news? Did your friends know? Was anyone else hurt during it? You were thankful to be alive, thankful for Storm, but you felt bad for everyone else.
Tears prickled in the corners of your vision as you try so hard to fall asleep. It’s cold, you’re trapped in a cave with an alien. Not that Storm was a negative point. You’d be dead without him. But things were far from okay right now.
You hear shuffling and wonder if Storm also has trouble sleeping. He’d been calm so far, never raising his voice or panicking. ‘Maybe he’s used to these situations.’ You think, given the scars he bears on his body. You didn’t want to think of what could hurt someone like Storm.
Your chest feels tight. It’s hard to push the anxiety down. You almost want to talk to him again, but what would you say? What -could- you say? You were the one to suggest sleeping in the first place. Your heart beats faster, and you’re awfully aware of your surroundings, even in the dark.
The walls are cold and wet. The air is a little stale. You can smell yourself as you can also smell Storm behind you. You can smell the thick rubbery scent of your gloves as they grip the bivy’s lining with all they got. Like you had gripped Storm earlier that day when he rescued you.
You swallow dryly, trying to breathe in and out to avoid negative thoughts. Things would be okay. You were alive, fairly warm, and you had a big alien as your personal bodyguard through a disaster. You hear more shuffling. The sound of the emergency blanket being unfolded hits your ears. You wait a couple of seconds, eyes darting around in the dark before you open your mouth to ask him if he was okay.
You’re in the middle of breathing your first word when you feel the blanket getting laid on top of your bivy. Storm smooths out the blanket on top of you before laying down again, closer to you this time. You’re at loss for words. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water.
You feel his breath against the top of your beanie, so his chest must be somewhere in front of you now. You bite your lip, feeling the knot in your chest loosen the tiniest bit. You were not alone. Things were going to be okay.
You focus on his breathing pattern, so even and calm. Constant. The sound his tusks occasionally make is soothing over the deathly silence of the cave. You don’t remember closing your eyes, nor do you remember falling asleep.
The way your bladder burns wakes you up. Storm’s breathing is heavier now, asleep. It pains you to move, like getting your pet out of your lap after it finally got comfortable.
As soon as you move, his breathing stops. Then resumes in that light, calculated rhythm. Awake.
“Sorry, sorry,” you whisper, worming out of your bivy, patting around for your light. You go to the far corner of the cave and do your business, covering it with loose dirt with your boot, thanking the universe Storm didn’t move an inch from where he was.
Taking your pants off in the unbelievable cold of a 3 AM shut-in ice cave was no easy business. Curse bodily functions to the end and back. You do your best to push the burning shame down and head to your backpack, sanitizing your hands.
You steal a glance to your side while you think, catching Storm looking directly at you. Your spine shivers a bit, a mix from the cold and his gaze. You take another sip of water and crawl back into your bivy, mindful of your ankle.
It makes your face heat up more to see how close he’s been to you for all these hours and how he doesn’t care enough to move away, even now that you disrupted him awake.
You lick your lips and clutch your light, looking at him again before shutting it off. Your face is still hot from all of it, but you listen intently to his breathing and clicking. You hoped he wouldn’t move away from you just yet, at least until you fell asleep.
You feel the warmth coming from his chest, moving your head forward so you could be closer to it, trying to chase away the rest of the cold from your suit again. That pee break cost you some precious degrees.
You’re still sulking internally when he finally moves. Your eyes widen in the dark as he spreads the blanket over you again. You smile and close your eyes, only to open them again as widely as before when you feel his arm drape over you.
He grunts, and suddenly you’re being dragged forward by that same arm. Your forehead hits something, and you instantly know it's his chest. You swallow hard. It’s as hot as it was earlier, rumbling with each breath.
“Warm.” He croaks. You shiver at how deep his real voice is. You nod fervently against his chest. The arm stays around you.
It takes you several minutes of internal struggle to calm down again. Your face is hotter, both from your embarrassment and his body temperature. Your ears turn back on when you hear a faint noise.
You squint, leaning in closer, and the sound gets louder.
His heartbeat.
Your body relaxes, almost melting against him.
His arm tightens the tiniest bit around you. You press your cheek against his chest, feeling his mandibles graze against the top of your beanie.
The rest of the night goes by too fast for your liking.
He wakes you up at 7 AM sharp. You almost want to cry when you realize the arm is no longer holding you, that his heartbeat is not against your ear still.
He packs his equipment, and so do you, leaving only the map out. “We were here yesterday.” You say, pointing at the map. “The hotel is here, and I think the equipment stall is here?” You felt like you were explaining your destination to a taxi driver.
You look up at him. He’s masked and ready to leave. So are you.
“How are we going to do this? Or, well, how you’re going to do this?” You ask. Storm makes a punching motion toward the stone. You almost can’t believe your very eyes. “Oh.”
Storm retracts the tubes and puts them away in one of his bags. This was it.
You stand at the side as Storm readies himself. He pushes some buttons on his gauntlet. You brace yourself as it makes a firing-up noise.
Storm steadies himself and times the punch with the gauntlet’s blast.
You close your eyes at the noise, protecting your head with your hands before you’re snatched from the ground once more.
You open them again when blinding light covers your eyelids. Everything is white as your eyes adjust. When colors flood your vision, you realize that not only you’re out of the cave but you’re in the air. Everything moves too fast.
Storm holds you up as he lands harshly in the snow piled below between trees. You shake the snow off your face as he works you both out of the thick snow bank. He squats again, and you hold tightly onto his neck before he jumps once more.
You struggle not to scream this time as well.
Storm lands firmly onto the snowy forest floor. He places you down gently as he surveys the area before relaxing once more. You look around, looking at the mountainside, following the trail of broken rocks until you see the cave's would-be entrance, quickly getting topped with more falling snow. “We were there?” You ask, out of breath. Storm nods. You turn to him. “Good legs.” You compliment. He huffs behind the mask.
You feel buzzing coming from your backpack, frowning in confusion before you remember your phone. Placing the pack on the floor, you quickly check it, watching as the multiple messages and missed calls finally load into your screen. You smile, choking on your breath before looking at Storm again.
You avoid your hurting ankle as you surge forward and wrap your arms around him again. He barely moves, not stepping back or stopping you. His hands hesitate at his sides before coming up and resting them on your shoulders, pressing you against him once before letting go.
You look up at him, seeing him at full height in daylight felt unreal. “Thank you so much. I owe you everything. You saved me. You had no obligation to, but you did. Thank you so much.” You bury your face into his chest again, feeling it rumble. You smile before he tenses up, and you both hear the helicopter sound from far away.
You let him go, looking up at the sky before looking back at him. Your heart tore into pieces. “You can go now.” The tears sting your eyes. “I’ll be fine from here.” He looks back at you.
“I’ll never forget you.” You sob, “Thank you again, for everything.”
The helicopter gets closer. You watch as he disappears in front of your very eyes. The blue skin and armor blend with the snow and trees behind him before the reflective figure jumps up one tree to another, and another, until you lose track of it in the distance.
Cold tears slide down your face as you hobble your way to a clearing, throwing your arms up when the helicopter comes into view.
The rest of the day goes by too slowly for your liking.
You’re taken back to the hotel, where a makeshift hospital has been set up. You’re asked questions, to which you reply either ‘I don’t know’ or ‘I was buried in the snow all night’. You text your friends and relatives back while your ankle is tended to. You see the hiking girl from yesterday when you’re getting cleared from IV hydration hours later.
She screams in surprise, coming to hug you. ‘How did you make it?! Oh my God, we thought you were dead! I’m so happy to see you!” She cries, and so do you. After talking for a while, she shakes her head. “I’m cutting the damn trip -short-. I’m going the fuck home, and so should you. The flights are crazy, but there’s a company giving preference to the victims and their families.” She informs you.
One hour later, she hugs you one last time before leaving.
You do as she says, cutting the trip short as well, needing to process and recover from everything that happened. You’re promised heaven on earth by the hotel and the flight companies for future trips. Your friends scoff at the very thought of it. “Why the hell would you go back there? That’s insane of them to offer you packages like that.” One of them says.
You nod along the next few weeks until things slowly blend into normality again. You don’t tell anyone about what happened that night, and people don’t bother you about it. You look at your bag in your wardrobe every time you open it, thinking back to him, wondering if he also thought about you.
Six months of this go by. Followed by another six months.
One day, you open your wardrobe and pull your bag out again, dusting it for your trip. People worry about your decision of going back there. Some worry it might reopen wounds rather than closing them for good like you told them it would. Some others just thought you were crazy.
Crazy or not, you packed your bag and left. The flight took off and landed. You found yourself at the hotel, looking at the same clerk in the eyes again while she checked you in again, welcoming you back to the hotel.
You look at the hiking lists, finding them slightly different, but still running. You check in for solo hiking. You pack your bag accordingly this time, filled with all the necessities a survivor could need before you take off.
The forest is peaceful, and the track is fresh beneath your boots. You’re enjoying soup fondly at the end of the track when you hear that noise. The rumbly, clicking noise that you heard in your dreams for the past year. Always followed by the steady sound of a strong heartbeat.
You turn around, smiling when blue hues and armor flood your vision once more.
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If you read it till here, you're a champ lmao
If you're my (or anyone elses) patron, please take a look at your supports
Its common to lose people every month but because of this nasty error I lost even more lmao so if you support me (or again, anyone), please take a look below to see if things are okay :') some of us really rely on that support
Gender neutral reader x Yautja - 319 words - No warnings
Baking
-
Cooking, for him, was only fun at the eating part. Always.
It's not that he couldn't cook. He could. He knew how to…not die of starvation.
Mainly because Yautjas could eat just about anything raw and get away with it, but that was just a detail. Tiny detail.
It didn't surprise him that you had a talent for baking.
Yautjas had sweet stuff. Granted, said things were usually alcoholic beverages but that still didn't stop him from looking at you weirdly when you first introduced him to cakes.
And then cookies.
And then pies.
And then muffins- mini cakes.
Out of all of them, he was obsessed with cookies. They didn't have anything like them back home. Who would even bake something like this? It had no real nutritional value- the sugar was good for him but there really wasn't anything else to it.
But Paya, it tasted too good.
Whenever you went to the kitchen and pulled out your ingredients, he hoped to all gods you’d make cookies.
You didn’t mind him, of course. If anything, it felt good to be praised for something you did. It was simple stuff, in your mind. Just baking and then having a nice moment to eat in peace. Nobody really thought much of it until him.
You realized it was way more than you thought when you could him carefully analyze a cookie with his mask. Scanning it.
“Honey-...what -are- you doing?”
The little jerking he made was enough to tell you how focused he was. You laughed. “You can just ask me for the recipe, you know?”
You tried buying him cookies from the store. He liked them, but they didn’t taste the same.
“It’s because they’re not homemade.” You told him. “I make mine with a heart for someone I love, so they taste better.” It did make sense. “That and I’m just that good.”
He also agreed.
Gender neutral reader x Yautja - 321 words - No warnings
Sculpting
Not many yautjas pursued the field, even as a pass time. They were good with their hands, but anything that wasn't incredibly violent or combative in some way was rarely encouraged. Paya knew how they still had scholars.
It seemed fitting for humans, though. He'd watch you work for hours. Sometimes you'd do ceramic pieces. He'd watch you wet your fingers before going back to the turning piece of clay on the wheel.
There was just something entirely mesmerizing about watching your fingers work. He started off sitting and ended up laying on the couch, whatever tension melting from his form as the minutes went by.
He felt molded by you, in some way. The ability you had to affect him so much. "Wrapped around the finger" was an expression he had heard once, when a human does whatever the other one wants, simply for being themselves.
He understood it. He felt wrapped around your fingers like whatever you were sculpting. Never had he thought he would be in a situation like this.
Never did he think he would be praying for the days to last forever, just so he could spend them like this. With you, and only you.
"Purring is really the best work background noise, I think."
His blinks.
"Aw, don't stop! You always stop when I mention it, but can I help myself? It's so dang adorable."
He scoffs, shifting on the too small couch to get comfortable again.
Humans. Give them a little space and they walk all over you.
"That cat next door ain't got nothing on you."
He gets up from the couch, dragging his finger across the wet clay before smearing it on your cheek as you laugh.
He points at the unfinished piece on the wheel. "Fine fine, I'll entertain you some more." You shake your head, wetting your fingers again as he sits down, sighing and getting lost in you again.
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This was posted SIX MONTHS AGO ✨Here✨
Also my commissions are -open-. It's $1 for every 100 words and the best part: anything I come up with over what you paid is on me 💖 Something like what you just read would be $3 for example ;) hit me up!
